Mason of Bar X Ranch

“That will be fine of you,” Josephine answered, sober as a judge. “I am sure our boys will appreciate your great courage and daring.”

Percy drew himself up stiffly at her flattery.

“Bud promised to furnish me with a horse,” he continued, “and by Jove, I must be getting out to the corral. One of his men is going to teach me how to ride the brute. I used to be real clever on horseback, don’t you know, but this horse looks real vicious; still, I think I can manage the beast. Well, so long, girls, see you later.”

When he was out of hearing, Josephine jumped to her feet.

“Now, isn’t that rich?” she demanded, facing Mason. “Just imagine poor Percy wanting to go after Ricker’s gang. Come, Sir Jack, take us to find Bud. I think he is framing up something on Percy with that horse deal, and I don’t want the poor fellow to get his neck broken. Then we will go and see Tex.”

They found Bud at the bunk-house. When questioned by Josephine he admitted that he had shown Percy the horse he was to ride, and also that he had picked one that was likely to prove troublesome to Percy. He thought that was the best way to discourage the fellow, and also take some of the conceit out of him. Josephine made him promise to pick out a safe mount for Percy, after which they went in to see Tex.

A portion of the bunk-house had been given over to the injured cowboy. Waneda, the Spanish girl, was in constant attendance, and flitted noiselessly about the room as she placed chairs for Tex’s visitors.

“Tex is asleep just now. The doctor says he must not talk or be allowed to become excited. He says he will pull him through, but he must be kept quiet for a few days,” she told them softly.

“Then there is no use in staying here any longer,” Bud said, starting for the door, “there is a lot of work ahead of me before I start for Ricker’s. Anyway, I know the name of the man who shot Tex, and I’m going to get him to-night.”

He went out followed by the others. Calling one of the cowboys over to him he gave him some orders to carry out. Then he insisted that Mason should get some rest before the time set for the raid.

“This is going to be a hard night’s work, and it is a man’s job,” he said; “all the men are resting up and I advise you to go to the house and take things easy. We will have about two hours before we start, and I will blow a signal whistle that you may have time to join us.”

“That sounds like good advice and I think I will act on it,” he agreed.

“What are you going to do about Percy?” Josephine called back to him as they started for the house. Bud grinned.

“Don’t worry about your dude friend,” he answered, “I will have him so well tired out before we start that he will want to go to bed. Right now I expect he is trying to ride an old razorback horse that I ordered to be saddled for him. You know I can’t be bothered with him to-night, but don’t worry, he won’t come to any harm.”

When they arrived at the house, Josephine went to the kitchen, telling Mason she had to see her mother about getting an early dinner.

“For, you see, I can’t let you start away on an empty stomach,” she added naively.

She was back in a few minutes, however, saying that her mother did not need her help.

“Your mother is resting in her room,” she told him, “and my Dad is away somewhere on the range, so now I can visit with you and Ethel.”

“Then your Dad isn’t going with us to Ricker’s?” he questioned.

“Of course not, silly,” his sister cut in. She had taken an easy chair and was leisurely reading a magazine.

“You don’t suppose that Josephine would let her father go on a dangerous mission like this raid at his age, do you?” she continued.

“Josephine, I ask you to take my part; you see how my sister bawls me out at the slightest opportunity,” he said whimsically, glancing over at his sister.

“Sir Jack, I am sorry that so many terrible things have happened since you have been here,” Josephine said gravely, “and I am afraid your mother and sister will never want to come out this way again.”

“Don’t you ever believe that,” Ethel protested warmly. “Why, we are just having the time of our lives. There is just enough spice in this life to make you feel glad you are living. Am I not right, brother?”

“You’ve said it, sister mine,” he answered gaily.

“Sir Jack,” Josephine was looking at him steadily, “I know you are very reckless, and something tells me you are going into great danger to-night, Please promise me that you will try to be very, very careful.”

“Why, certainly, I can promise you that much,” he answered, a bit startled.

Josephine seemed pleased at his answer.

“Come to dinner now, I can hear mother calling,” she commanded them.

After the meal, Mason went to his room and tried to snatch a few winks of sleep. He had fallen into a heavy slumber with troublesome dreams.

He was fighting once again a desperate battle with the ugly hunchback at Ricker’s ranch, and was feeling the monster’s bony hands clutching his throat, trying to strangle him, when he woke with a start, the cold sweat standing out on his face. Josephine was calling him.

“Sir Jack!” she was saying, “hurry up, Bud sounded the signal whistle five minutes ago, and you haven’t a minute to lose.”

“I will be right down,” he answered.

As he had seen that everything was ready before he had gone to sleep, it took him scarcely a minute to slip on his boots and buckle on his guns. He went down the steps two at a time and flung the door open.

“Don’t forget what I told you about being careful,” Josephine called after him. “Ethel and I are coming out to see the men start after they get lined up.”

“Good for you,” he called back over his shoulder.

He had broken into a run, as he didn’t want to keep Bud waiting. When he reached the corral he found to his relief that the men were not quite ready to start. He quickly saddled his horse while taking note of the men who were picked to go. He noted with satisfaction that they were about the same cowboys that had taken the trail when Josephine was captured. Scotty Campbell, Red Sullivan and also Big Joe Turner were among the men picked. They were hard fighters and he was proud to ride with them.

As he was turning these thoughts over in his mind the men received the order to mount. Bud grouped the men and briefly informed them that at a certain point from Ricker’s ranch he would send a man ahead to surprise the guard. Mason took notice that Bud said nothing about who this man was. He wondered at this, and came to the conclusion that Bud feared the men would balk if he mentioned MacNutt’s name. If this was the true reason, Mason gave Bud credit for sound judgment, as it would be dark before they arrived at the point where Ricker had his guard stationed. Then it would be an easy matter to send MacNutt on ahead, and as none of the cowboys took him seriously, he would not be missed.

This was all conjecture on Mason’s part, but he meant to sound Bud on the subject at the first opportunity. At this point of his reasoning, Bud gave the order to start, and MacNutt was riding with him, a fact that bore out Mason’s keen reasoning. As they started, Mason remembered Josephine’s promise, and looking towards the ranch he saw both girls waving a farewell to him. Mason waved his hat in return and all the cowboys followed suit. As they rode at a fair canter down the trail he was amused to hear the cowboys argue among themselves as to which one of them the girls had waved at. Gradually he pressed ahead until he found himself riding with Bud and MacNutt. Upon questioning Bud he found his reasoning to be correct, for the latter informed him that he intended to send MacNutt ahead at the proper time.

The cowboys rode in silence for over three hours and Mason was glad when at last darkness closed in on them and at a sign from Bud, MacNutt began to draw ahead.

At a command from Bud the men slowed their horses down to a walk.

“The all clear signal from MacNutt is to be two flashes from a small pocket lamp he carries,” he whispered in Mason’s ear, “You see, I am trusting this man on your faith in him. I wish I could feel as sure of him as you seem to,” the sheriff continued.

“Of course, I can’t explain why, but I think MacNutt will prove all right,” Mason answered, keeping his voice low.

At a point farther on Bud halted his men.

“Now, boys,” he said, “we will make the rest the trip on foot. We have about a half mile to cover, and one man will be left behind to guard the horses. I am going to try and close in on Ricker without a shot being fired if possible. I want you men to wait here in silence until I give you the signal to move forward. Then we will surround the house and burst in on them. I want each of you to take particular pains to cover your man, and keep him covered! Is that plain to you?”

“How about Ricker’s guard?” one of the cowboys questioned.

“He will be taken care of,” Bud answered quietly. “Just you men wait for a signal from me to move forward.”

Mason was almost positive that not a single one of the men had missed MacNutt.

The sheriff was keeping his eyes glued on a spot just ahead of them. The moments that followed were anxious ones for Mason. What if MacNutt should fail them? Just as he was getting decidedly nervous, his sharp eyes caught two tiny flashes of light at the point where they were watching. He breathed a sigh of relief as he heard Bud give the command for the men to move forward.

“I thought I saw a light just ahead of us,” one of the cowboys said in a suspicious voice.

“Silence!” Bud whispered sharply.

When they reached the guard’s place, or lookout, no one was there! MacNutt had done some skillful maneuvering to outwit the guard, as he was one of Ricker’s best men.

“You don’t suppose that MacNutt has double crossed us and is in league with the guard?” Bud whispered to Mason. “He may be trying to lead us into a trap. It all looks mighty suspicious to me.”

Mason’s faith was still unshaken.

“No, I don’t think that,” he whispered back, “I think he will show up when we least expect him.”

They were stealing cautiously on and were close to the ranch now, and could almost look in the windows where they could see lights burning. Suddenly Mason felt his arm grasped from out of the darkness. He drew back in alarm and was just going to strike a lunging blow in the dark, when he heard his name spoken in a whisper so low he could scarcely hear the words. Another low whisper, and then he knew the person was MacNutt, as he hoped.

Mason quickly made the fact known to Bud, who seemed immensely relieved. One of the cowboys had managed to get a look into one of the windows, and he at once made a report to Bud.

Good luck must have been with them this night, for the men inside were playing cards. They had depended on their sentinel on the lookout, and had placed no guard about the house or at the doors.

Bud massed his men at the two doors, and at signal they were kicked open while the sheriff’s men poured into the room covering Ricker’s men before they had a chance to draw. Ricker himself was most astonished of all, and most furious.

“We meet again, Ricker,” Bud said coolly; “I have come for Nick Cover, over there by you. He shot up Tex, one of my men, and I am going to arrest him. Will you let me take him peacefully, or do you want a little gun play with my men?”

“You’ve got the drop on me,” Ricker snarled, hoarse with rage; “take him and clear yourself and men out of here before I change my mind and take a chance against you for all the odds.”

“You had better think twice before you try any rough stuff with me,” Bud said coolly.

Stepping quickly over to the man Cover, he snapped a pair of handcuffs on his wrists. A look of hate glowed in the man’s eyes as Bud led him over and put him under the guard of his men.

Mason noticed that MacNutt was watching Ricker closely and Ricker was glowering at MacNutt savagely.

The actions of MacNutt puzzled Mason. The man had thrown off his languid air and was as alert as a panther. His next move was like lightning. An automatic revolver suddenly appeared in each hand and covered Ricker’s heart!

“Don’t draw, Ricker! it means death to you if you draw! You were getting suspicious of me and started to draw your gun, didn’t you? Remember how well I shot at your little target range here one day? Yes, you remember now, don’t you? It was a fool stunt on my part, you know, but it’s just a little way I have.”

MacNutt rattled on in this way to the amazement of all in the room. Was this the man that had played the part of a halfwit so successfully at Bar X ranch? Most of the cowboys of Bar X asked themselves this question, while Mason and Bud stared at him in wonder.

“Bud Anderson,” MacNutt continued, “you came here to arrest Nick Cover and you got your man. Well, I came with you for the sole purpose of arresting this man whom I have so nicely covered. My real name is Trent Burton, United States Marshal, at your service. Ricker, I arrest you for a murder you committed back East. Also, for running a counterfeiting den on this ranch!”

Had a bomb suddenly exploded in the room it could not have caused any greater consternation than had the Marshal’s denouncement of Ricker. Then the tension seemed to relax and Mason could fairly hear the men breathe. Ricker’s face had tuned ashen while Trent Burton was denouncing him, and now he furtively watched the Marshal as though in sudden fear of this new danger that threatened him. The Marshal kept his guns trained steadily on the chief’s heart.

“Ricker,” the Marshal continued grimly, “you have led the life of a mean cur dog. This boy’s father here,” he waved one of his guns at Mason, “was quite a big help to me. He set me straight about you when I was wandering a bit off your track. You stole money from Mr. Mason when he was in the lumber business, and also threatened his life.

“Perhaps it will interest you to learn how I dropped on to your counterfeiting game so easily. Ricker, I am going to make you acquainted with my most able deputy. Jean Barry, step forward!”

“Traitor!” Ricker hissed, as the man Jean Barry stepped over and took a position near the Marshal.

Suddenly a shot rang out, extinguishing the light.

Simultaneous with the report of the gun, Trent Burton’s lithe body shot past Mason. Then from the darkness came blows and curses, followed by a number of shots, as the men fought in the dark.

A bullet seared Mason’s arm like a red hot iron just as Bud shouted a warning for his men to guard the doors.

CHAPTER XIII – THE COUNTERFEITERS

The firing ceased abruptly, each side fearing to hit one of its own men. The next instant Mason was grasped from behind and thrown violently to the floor. His assailant seemed possessed with superhuman strength and ferocity while he breathed with a peculiar whistling sound through his teeth. Mason’s brain worked like lightning as the belief flashed through his mind that he was struggling with the demon hunchback dwarf.

The beast’s bony hands were at his throat and Mason fought desperately. He realized that he was being slowly strangled. His left arm was wounded and lay useless at his side. As he vainly tried to bring his knee into the pit of the dwarf’s stomach his hand touched his own revolver. With his remaining strength he managed to work it free from the holster and brought the butt crashing down on the dwarf’s head.

The bony hands relaxed about his throat and he rolled the thing off his body with a shudder. He realized how close he had been to death.

He had stood near one of the windows when he had been attacked, and as he lay there quietly getting his strength back he heard voices whispering outside the window. There was not a sound from inside the room, each man being afraid to move or make a sound for fear of betraying his location to the other.

He listened eagerly to the whispering, and to his joy discovered that it was two of Bud’s men trying to figure out how they could thrust a lighted lantern through the window without getting shot.

Evidently they had found a way, for there came a crash of broken glass and the lantern passed rapidly over Mason and stopped close to the center of the room. The cowboys had found a long pole and had tied the lantern to one end of it. At the appearance of the lantern a number of bullets passed over Mason, and he was glad he had not attempted to get on his feet.

The light showed a strange scene. Ricker lay on the floor with his hands and feet shackled.

Trent Burton was bending low over him, the two deadly automatics still in his hands. Scotty and Jim Haley stood facing each other with their guns on a level, but neither dared to fire.

“Stick that gun away, Jim, and be nice,” drawled the Marshal. “I’ve got you covered and so has Bud there near the door.”

Jim’s gun wavered a bit as he half turned his eyes towards the door.

Mason had been watching Scotty and Jim from where he lay on the floor and fired the instant Jim’s gun wavered. Jim’s gun fell to the floor, while he grabbed his wrist with a curse. Mason quickly leveled his gun at the dwarf, who was crawling up on him again.

“If you come one inch farther, you beast, I’ll blow your fool head off. This is the second time you have tried to murder me.”

He was in an ugly fighting mood, and his arm was beginning to give him considerable pain. The rest of Ricker’s gang, seeing Jim Haley put out of action and their leader lying on the floor with his feet and hands shackled, lost heart and surrendered.

Bud sent some of the men scouting around for an extra lamp.

“I wonder who shot the lamp out,” the Marshal queried, “it wasn’t done by anybody in this room.”

“I did,” the dwarf spoke up, grinning exultantly. “I was in the cellar and fired through a hole in the floor. Then while the fight was going on I crawled through the window.”

“And well I know it,” Mason said ruefully, “he crept up on me and had me nearly strangled before I knocked him on the head with my gun. He must have a skull like iron.”

The Marshal after a brief struggle snapped a pair of handcuffs on the dwarf’s wrists.

“You are too dangerous a person to be at large, my most excellent engraver.

“This dwarf,” he continued, “was Ricker’s chief engraver.”

Then, noticing Mason’s wound, he called Jean Barry, his deputy, to examine his arm. Jean made a thorough examination.

“Your arm isn’t broken, luckily; as near as I can tell the bullet just grazed the bone in the elbow,” he announced cheerfully, as Mason had winced as he handled the injured arm.

“Well, it felt as though it was broken, I can’t raise it up,” Mason said grimly.

The Marshal was keenly interested. He seemed worried about Mason’s injury, and watched Jean as he put a crude bandage around the injured member.

“Bud,” the Marshal spoke up, “I propose we take a general inventory of our men and see how many wounded we have and how bad their injuries are. In the meantime we will send to the Post for a doctor. Who will volunteer to go?”

“I will,” Scotty spoke up eagerly; “young Mason here did me a good turn when he nailed Jim Haley, and I want to return the favor.”

“All right, Scotty, go ahead,” Bud agreed; “isn’t far to the Post, and while you’re gone we’ll look this ranch over.”

As most of the injured had received only slight flesh wounds, the Marshal and Bud undertook to examine the cellar and premises. The Marshal paused as they were about to commence their search and watched Jean Barry, who was dressing the men’s wounds.

“Jean, after you get the men’s wounds dressed, you had better go and bring in Ricker’s guard,” he said reflectively.

“I’ve got Tug Conners bound securely,” he added, “but I had to tap him on the head first, and he may be suffering.”

Ricker had been jerked to his feet none too gently by one of Bud’s men and placed on a table with his back to the wall. The look of fear in his eyes had died out, and he was regarding the Marshal with a look of hate.

“Who the hell are you, anyway?” he burst out savagely. “I’ve seen you before, somewhere in the East.”

The Marshal turned to the counterfeiter with a grim smile.

“Right, you are, my counterfeiting friend,” he answered suavely, “perhaps I can refresh your memory.”

Into his eyes came a look of reminiscence.

“Follow me back ten years,” he said, keeping his eyes fixed on Ricker, “to a little den on the East Side in New York. There had been a gang of counterfeiters shoving the queer, and they were operating around New York and neighboring cities.

“I was called in from another case I had been working on, and after long search succeeded in tracing the counterfeiters to this little den I speak of. In making the capture of the ringleader, part of my disguise was torn off, and that is the reason you remember me. In the excitement of the struggle you escaped, and I sent one of my men after you.”

Ricker was regarding the Marshal sullenly, his face working in violent spasms mingled with fear with hate.

“He trailed you to Baltimore,” the Marshal continued relentlessly, “and as he was attempting your arrest you sent a bullet through his head. After that, you disappeared and all efforts of my men failed to locate you.

“A short time ago, however, and through the efforts of my deputy, Jean Barry, I learned that you had headed for the West. As there has been a quantity of counterfeit money circulating in the East, I sent Jean Barry, who had at one time been a cowboy, out here to look you up.

“In the course of time, Jean Barry had evidence enough against you to warrant my suspicions, so I came out here and worked with him. This is your last attempt at counterfeiting, Ricker, for you will be tried for the murder of my detective.”

“Trent Burton,” Ricker ground out the name with an oath, “I’ll never be tried for that murder, and only for this traitor, Jean Barry, you would never have got the goods on me for this counterfeiting business. Only a few of my own men knew I was making the queer; the rest I kept in ignorance as they are only cattlemen.

“I owe my discovery to Jean Barry’s trickery; he came to me and hired out as a cowboy, and I didn’t suspect him of being a detective, but I’ll promise you this much,” the counterfeiter brought his shackled hands down on his knee with an oath, “there isn’t a jail made that will hold me. I’ll escape and get revenge on Jean Barry, and I’ll get you too, Mason.

“Your father helped to get the evidence against me and I’ll get you if I have to strike you through your sweetheart, Josephine. Ha, that’s a tender spot, isn’t it?”

Mason had jumped to his feet, startled by the counterfeiter’s vehemence. What if the man should make good his threat and do some injury to Josephine? The thought made a chill run through his frame.

“Come, Ricker, stow that kind of talk. You’re not in a position just now to make threats,” the Marshal cautioned him roughly.

The counterfeiter lapsed into a moody silence and further questions by the Marshal brought no response from him. Bud invited Mason to come with them while they made an inspection of the cellar, after he had first seen that the guards were placed to his satisfaction. In the cellar they found a complete plant for making counterfeit money. They had been there but a few minutes when they heard a commotion above them. They were relieved when they heard Scotty’s voice calling down to them. He wanted Mason to come up as he had brought a doctor.

The doctor put a bandage on Mason’s arm and soon his wound was feeling much better.

“Scotty, you made good time in getting the doctor here,” Mason said gratefully, grasping his hand.

Then a sudden inspiration seized him.

“The Marshal and Bud are in the cellar breaking up the counterfeiting press and apparatus,” he told Scotty. “Do you remember how we had our men drawn around this ranch the night that Pete Carlo, the Mexican, slipped through our lines and got back to the mountains without being seen?”

“Shure,” Scotty nodded eagerly.

“Well, let’s see if we can find out how he got past us. There must be a secret passage leading out of this cellar,” Mason cried enthusiastically.

“I’m game,” Scotty agreed readily.

They started for the cellar, but had they seen the look of dismay and fear that had come into the counterfeiter’s face while they were talking, they would have been puzzled.