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  CHAPTER VIII

  THE AMAZING MACKENZIE

  Doubleday, a squat man with a sharp nose and a sharper eye, evinced nosurprise at his employer's message. He merely swore resignedly onlearning that Mackenzie had not sent in the mail by Loudon, and in thesame breath thanked his Maker that a new man had arrived.

  The advent of Loudon was most opportune, according to Doubleday. For,one "Lanky" having taken a wife and removed to the Sweet River Agency,the Flying M was a man short.

  "Turn yore hoss into the big corral," said Doubleday, when he hadsufficiently condemned the foolishness of Lanky, "an' take yore saddleover to the bunkhouse. There's three empty bunks. Help yoreself.Then c'mon over to the little corral an' bring yore rope. Got anoutlaw stallion with a cut hind leg, an' it's a two-man job."

  Loudon found favour in the eyes of Doubleday. The former Bar S puncherdid his work easily and well. He proved a better roper than Doubleday,and he was the equal in horsemanship of "Telescope" Laguerre, thehalf-breed buster.

  With Laguerre, Loudon struck up an instant friendship.Telescope--which name was the natural transformation undergone byTelesphore in a Western climate--was a long lean man, with the straightblack hair and the swarthy complexion of his Indian mother and themobile features and facile speech and gestures of his French father.When Loudon had been at the Flying M three days Telescope suggestedthat they ride to town in the evening.

  "We weel go to de dance hall," said Laguerre. "Fine woman dere. Weweel dance a leetle, we weel dreenk de w'iskey, un we weel have de goodtam. By gar, I not been to town for two mont. Wat your say, Tom?"

  "I'd shore enjoy goin' along, Telescope, but I can't," replied Loudon,mindful of his promise to Scotty Mackenzie.

  "Dat ees all right," said the large-hearted half-breed. "She ees mytreat. I have more as one hundred dollar, un by gar! I wan' for tospen' eet. You are my frien'. You help me for spen' eet. We weelburn up de dance hall."

  "Oh, I'm not broke," said Loudon. "I'll go with yuh another time."

  Laguerre, being wise in his generation, forbore to insist, and rode totown alone. The cook predicted a three-day orgy.

  "Rats!" said Doubleday. "Yuh don't know Telescope. He never getsdrunk. He can't. He sops it up an' he sops it up, an' it don't botherhim a mite. Wish I had his gift. Why, I've seen him tuck away a quarto' killer inside o' three hours, an' then hop out with his rope an'fasten on a hoss any leg you tell him. He's a walkin' miracle,Telescope is, an' he'll be back in the mornin'."

  Loudon, oiling his saddle in front of the bunkhouse, glanced casuallyat the cook standing in the doorway, and wondered for the twentiethtime where he had seen the man before. On his arrival at the Flying M,Loudon had sensed that, in a vague way, the cook's face was familiar.First impressions had taken no concrete form. He could not rememberwhere or under what circumstances he had seen the cook. But that hehad seen him, he was certain.

  The cook's name was Rufe Cutting. Which name, however, was notenlightening. Idly speculating, Loudon went on with his work. Thecook returned to the kitchen.

  Laguerre bore out the statement of Doubleday. He returned while themen were saddling in the morning. He did not appear in the leastdegree wearied. Hurriedly changing his saddle to a fresh horse, herode away with Loudon.

  "By gar!" exclaimed Laguerre. "I have de fine tam. I dance, I dreenkde w'iskey, un I play de pokair wit' Pete O'Leary un two odder men un Itak' deir money. I ween feefty dollar. By gar! I am glad I go totown, me."

  "Yuh shore ought to be," said Loudon. "Fifty dollars. That's rightgood hearin'."

  "Pete O'Leary she wan' for know 'bout you," continued Laguerre.

  "Pete O'Leary asked about me! What did he say, huh?"

  "Oh, she not say eet plain. She walk een de watair. But I have beende scout; I have leeve wit Enjun; I know w'at ees een ees head. Shetalk 'bout Lanky quittin' de Flyin' M, un she wan' for know have Scottyhired new man. She say she see Scotty ride out wit' you, un she knowyou name. But I not say much. I tell Pete O'Leary to ask Scotty 'bouthees business, un I not say eef you work for de Flyin' M or not. For Itink mabbeso Pete O'Leary she ees not frien' to you."

  "Well, he ain't strictly hostyle anyway," said Loudon, and he forthwithtold Laguerre of his meeting with Pete O'Leary and of the latter'sstrange actions.

  "Dat ees varree fonny," commented Laguerre. "Pete O'Leary she wasexpectin' de frien' or de message mabbee. But dat ees not so fonny ashees askin' 'bout you so moch. She worry 'bout you, un dat ees fonny.Why she worry eef she hones' man? I tell you, my frien', I do nottrus' dat Pete O'Leary. I would watch heem. I would watch heem varreesharp."

  "Oh, I don't believe it means anythin'," doubted Loudon. "But I'llkeep an eye skinned for him."

  "You better, my frien', or mabbeso some tam she skeen you."

  A week later Mackenzie returned. That evening, after supper, Doubledaytold Loudon that Scotty wanted to see him. Mackenzie, chair tilted,feet propped on the table, his hands clasped behind his head, wasstaring up at the ceiling when Loudon entered the office. The chairdescended on four legs with a crash, and the ancient arose briskly.

  "Stranger," said Mackenzie, his blue eyes no longer frosty, "I wasmistaken. Yo're a gent an' a white man, an' I ain't holdin' outnothin'. Shake."

  Loudon grinned and shook hands. He was satisfied with the other'sapology.

  "That's all right," said the puncher. "I knowed yuh mistook me forsomebody else. But I'd shore admire to know, if it ain't private, whoyuh thought I was."

  "I don't mind tellin' yuh. I ain't ever talked about it much. Dunnowhy. No reason why I shouldn't. Sit down, Loudon, an' I'll tell yuh.When I first seen yuh there in Main Street that 88 brand on yore hossmade me suspicious.

  "Sam Blakely o' the 88 an' me ain't friends. We had a run-in someeight years ago over at Virginia City, an' I kind o' left Sam the worsefor wear. I heard later how Sam was yellin' 'round that he'd get even.Knowin' Sam, I believed it. An' when I seen you ridin' a 88 hoss, Isays to myself, 'Here's Sam done gone an' hired a party to do thegettin' even.' When yuh wanted to ride for me, I was shore of it.

  "So when you got down to fix yore cinches I expected to be plugged thenext second, an' I throwed down on yuh. Yore askin' me to send yorehoss an' saddle to Johnny Ramsay was what stopped me. I knowed ifJohnny was a friend o' yores you was all right. So I sent yuh on, an'I trailed yuh clear to the ranch. If you'd turned back I'd 'a' downedyuh. But yuh didn't turn back.

  "Well, after I seen yuh talkin' to Doubleday---- Shore; yuh know thatlittle hill about half-a-mile south? I was on top of it with a pair offield glasses--after I seen yuh talkin' to Doubleday, I moseyed southagain to the Cross-in-a-box."

  "Two hundred miles!" exclaimed Loudon.

  "About that," said Mackenzie, easily, quite as if a four-hundred-mileride in ten days were an afternoon jaunt. "Yuh see, I wanted to talkto Jack Richie. Didn't want to go to the Bar S if I could help it. Mean' Saltoun never did pull together. He thinks I'm a fool, an' I knowhe's crazy.

  "Well, I talked with Jack, an' he explained everythin'. Said who yuhwas an' how yuh'd bought yore hoss from the 88 an' how yuh'd creasedSam Blakely, an' all. That was fine work. Too bad yuh didn't down himfor good. He's a varmint. Worse'n a rattler. Yuh'd ought to 'a'plugged Marvin, too, after him tryin' to make yuh out a rustlerthat-away. A sport like that'll stand shootin' any day. What's thematter?"

  For Loudon was amazedly staring at Mackenzie.

  "Four hundred miles both ways," said the puncher, "to see whether aforty-five-dollar-a-month hand was tellin' the truth!"

  "Yuh was more than a hand," rejoined Mackenzie, with a slight smile."Yuh was opportunity, with a big O. Yuh see, when yuh asked for a jobI needed a man. I needed him bad. I was shore yuh was out to down me.But when yuh said yuh knowed Johnny an' I changed my mind aboutdroppin' yuh, it come to me, provided you was straight, that you wasjust the feller for me. You was sent to me, like. You wasOpportunity, see?r />
  "An' I ain't never passed up an opportunity that I ain't been sorry.I'm kind o' superstitious thataway now, an' I'll go out o' my way tograb what I think looks like an opportunity. I knowed I couldn't resteasy till I found out somethin' about yuh. So I done it. An' I'm ----glad I done it.

  "Doubleday tells me yo're the best roper he ever seen, an' yo're awonder with the stallions. A good man with stallions is somethin' I'vewished for ever since I owned the Flyin' M. I never had him till youcome. Opportunity! I guess yuh was, an' then a few. Now I don't knowwhether yuh care about stayin', but I shore hope yuh will. I'll seethat yuh don't regret it."

  "Shore I'll stay," said Loudon. "Them stallions is where I live."

  "Then fifty-five a month goes for you from now on."

  In this auspicious fashion began Loudon's life at the Flying M. YetLoudon was not precisely happy. The cheerfulness induced by thewhole-hearted Burrs had been but temporary. He brooded over hiswrongs, and that is bad for a man. Like all men who believe themselveshard hit, he did not realize that there are a great many lonesomeladies in the world, any one of whom will make a man utterly happy.

  One young woman had proved to be an arrant flirt, therefore all youngwomen were flirts, and beauty was a snare and a delusion. So reasonedLoudon. Surrendering almost wholly to his mood, he rarely took part inthe general conversation in the bunkhouse. The men wondered at hisaloofness, but none essayed to draw him out. His smoldering gray eyesforbade any such familiarity. When riding the range with Laguerre,however, Loudon would emerge from his shell, and a strong friendshipswiftly grew up between the two.

  One day, nearly two weeks after Mackenzie's return from theCross-in-a-box, Loudon was in the blacksmith shop making a set of shoesfor Ranger when Pete O'Leary rode up to the doorway and peered in.

  "Hello," said O'Leary, cheerily. "How's tricks?"

  "Comin' in bunches," replied Loudon, shortly, and he blew the bellowsvigorously.

  "That's good. Hot, ain't it? Well, I got to be weavin' along. Solong."

  Loudon walked to the doorway and watched O'Leary till he disappearedamong the cottonwoods fringing the bank of the Dogsoldier.

  "Now I'd admire to know," he wondered, "if Pete O'Leary stopped herejust to ask how tricks was. He kind o' looked at yore brand, too,fellah," he added, addressing Ranger.

  Thoughtfully he returned to his work. Five minutes later he whackedhis knee and whistled. Comprehension had at last come to him. Hemarvelled that it had not come sooner.

  "Now, why didn't I think o' that quicker?" he muttered. "It was that88 brand on Ranger's hip that made Scotty suspicious. So it was thatbrand must 'a' made O'Leary freeze to me when I sifted into the Bend.'Couldn't Sam come?' Sam Blakely o' the 88! An' I never seen it tilljust now."

  The moves of an enemy are always interesting. Even more thoughtfullythan before, Loudon pumped the handle of the bellows. Why was Blakelycoming to Paradise Bend? To settle his score with Scotty Mackenzie?Loudon doubted it. A newly engaged man does not, as a rule, jeopardizehis future happiness by reopening old issues.

  Whatever the precise nature of Blakely's purpose might be, it was darkand Machiavellian in the main. O'Leary's peculiar actions in the ThreeCard Saloon evinced as much.

  "I don't see how it could have anythin' to do with me," puzzled Loudon."Sam couldn't 'a' knowed I was comin' to the Bend. I didn't knowmyself till just before I started. Yet here's O'Leary askin' Telescopeabout me an' skirmishin' over to see if I am at the Flyin' M. It shoreis a heap mysterious."

  Loudon decided to talk it over with Scotty Mackenzie.