White Wolf's Law

“You playin’ detective?” he asked, grinning. “Who you watchin’?”

“Them two jaspers standin’ on the corner,” Sam replied.

“They’re plumb dangerous. It ain’t safe to even watch them two killers. Come have a drink.”

Sam Hogg tossed down a drink, then leaning forward, whispered: “Tim, I can’t tell yuh how I know, but yuh been talkin’ loud agin’ a certain gent, and he’s out for your blood.”

Tim grinned and, reaching beneath the bar, brought up a sawed-off shotgun.

“Reckon I know who you mean, and the Toad don’t work in the open, but this scatters some, an’ I’m keepin’ it darned close to me.”

Before either could say more the screen doors swung open and two men entered. Both were strangers. One was drunk and the other was attempting to pacify him.

“If I lets yuh have one more drink, will yuh promise to go to bed?” the sober one demanded.

“Positively,” the other replied.

From somewhere outside there came a shot, followed by a shrill scream, then another shot. Sam Hogg ran to the door. As he emerged on the street it struck him as queer that the strangers’ curiosity was not strong enough to make them follow him.

Several men were running and pointing up Main Street beyond the judge’s house. The ex-Ranger saw the Yuma Kid and Baldy a block away. The running men also noticed the two killers and instantly dropped to a walk. It wasn’t safe to approach them at a run. The men halted for a moment, then edged across the road to circle them.

“That’s what they was waitin’ for, tryin’ to delay pursuit!” Sam Hogg growled.

Rage overcame him and he yanked out his gun, leaped off the board walk and charged down the road. For a moment he thought Baldy was going to intercept him, but the Yuma Kid spat out a sentence in Spanish and Baldy stepped aside.

As Sam Hogg ran, followed by several other men, he heard the pounding of hoofs slowly receding on the plain. They found Dutchy on the outskirts of town, lying face downward in the dust of the trail.

A brief examination by the light of a match convinced Sam Hogg that the grizzled puncher was dead. He had been shot through the head from behind. Even as death was upon him he had drawn one gun and fired. The little cattleman cursed with sorrow and rage.

A little later one of the crowd discovered the prone figure of Kennedy, the dude, at the side of the trail. Examination disclosed he had been stunned by the butt of a gun. He groaned and opened his eyes.

Sam Hogg seized him.

“Where’s the gal? Who downed Dutchy? What happened? Come alive and spill it.”

At each question the ex-Ranger shook the half-conscious man. Finally a lanky cow-puncher interfered.

“Hell, Sam, if yuh knock the breath out of the darned dude, how can he talk?”

At last Mac Kennedy told his story. He had called on Snippets and suggested they take a walk. He had done that many times before. Dutchy accompanied them. Just as they reached the fork in the trail he had heard a shot, and swung about in time to see Dutchy fall. Then something hit him on the head, and that was all he knew. He had seen none of the men who had attacked them. Sam Hogg was convinced that Kennedy was not trying to conceal anything, not even his own cowardice.

Sheriff Tom Powers arrived on the scene; without delay he formed a posse and started in pursuit. The crowd drifted back to town. Here they found more excitement. Tim Lynch had been knifed and killed by an unknown man. His body was discovered behind the bar of the Lone Star by one of the first excited men to return from the crossroads.

Sam Hogg walked slowly to his brother’s store. The two talked in whispers for a time, then Sam called in a passing cowboy and sent him across the street to the Red Queen to fetch Big Dick, his foreman.

A few minutes later, Big Dick was dusting it straight for the Frying Pan Ranch. He was to bring back Sam Hogg’s best fighters.

CHAPTER VII

THE SENTENCE

A little after dawn the following morning, eighteen heavily armed riders from the Frying Pan Ranch clattered into town. They dismounted before the Hogg Hardware Store, and Sam Hogg, followed by Tad Hicks, Windy Sam, and Kansas Jones, stepped from the store and greeted them.

The ex-Ranger’s eyes lit with enthusiasm as he looked them over. Clean limbed, hardy, eager faced, reckless eyed, each one of them was willing to fight at the drop of a hat. He snapped out his orders; half of them were to be on duty at all times at the store; those not on duty were free to do as they pleased – with one exception – the Red Queen Saloon was barred to all.

Tom Powers and his posse returned to town with long faces and jaded horses. The sheriff dismounted before the hardware store. He shook his head at a question from Sam Hogg.

“The trail was plain until we struck Snake Canyon, halfway between the lava fields and the Frying Pan, but we lost it there. Cattle had been driven across the trail, and we couldn’t find nothin’.”

He threw himself into a chair and rolled a cigarette while Sam Hogg told him of the murder of Tim Lynch, and why he had sent for his riders. Suddenly the sheriff looked up and asked hopefully:

“You seen Allen?”

Sam Hogg shook his head.

The sheriff got up wearily. He left the store and headed for the jail. He attempted to snatch a few minutes’ sleep before time to conduct Pete Cable to the court to be sentenced, but sleep refused to come.

Where was Allen? Had he proof about the men he accused? Could he get it? The Lava Gang had struck twice. Who would be the third victim? The sheriff cursed when he thought of Snippets McPherson in the power of such men as the sons of le Diable à Cheval. He felt helpless. He suddenly realized how much he had come to depend on the outlaw, Jim Allen.

At eleven o’clock he led the prisoner, Pete Cable, into the crowded courtroom. A hush settled on the spectators as they entered. All eyes were fixed on the prisoner. His assurance had left him completely. He seemed crushed by fear.

The formalities were gone through.

“And there hanged by the neck until dead.”

The judge pronounced the fatal sentence. For a moment there was silence as people craned their necks to see the condemned man. The judge walked slowly from the court, the sheriff half carried, half led, Pete Cable back to his cell.

The people filed from the courtroom. As far as they were concerned the affair was over.

Waiting is the most trying ordeal for the active man, and as the day passed and night came, and still nothing happened, the Frying Pan riders became restless.

The men within the store were fully as impatient as those without. Toothpick paced the floor; every few minutes he would stop and listen, then recommence his pacing. On his return, when he had been told of Dutchy and Snippets, the men had barely been able to keep him from immediate violence.

Jim Hogg was fuming for action. The sheriff stared at the ceiling. Tad Hicks and Windy sat on the floor close to the stove and grumbled their impatience.

“Hey, Sam,” Windy pleaded, “tell a gent why for yuh’re delayin’ the battle?”

“An’ who the devil are we goin’ to fight?” Tad Hicks added.

Sam Hogg threw up his hands and shook his head. What were they waiting for? Allen? He might be dead.

Time passed, and all but Toothpick were dozing. He continued his endless pacing. Suddenly he stopped and listened for a moment, then sprang to the back door and threw it open. Sam Hogg and the sheriff jerked to sudden life and crowded after him. Some one was coming.

“It’s him,” Toothpick said exultantly.

They heard a faint whistle. With hands on guns they stepped outside. A black blotch materialized from the darkness and Jim-twin Allen hailed them.

“That yuh, Toothpick? Who’s with yuh?”

“Tom Powers and Sam Hogg?”

The black blotch crept nearer.

“Where can I stable these old bags of bones?”

“Is them yuhr grays?” Sam Hogg asked.

“Yeah,” Allen replied.

“Yuh go on in and get warm. Til rub ’em down, feed ’em, and fix ’em pretty,” Sam Hogg said eagerly.

For a fraction of a second Allen hesitated, then he spoke to the grays.

“Thanks,” he said as he passed Sam Hogg.

Unceremoniously Allen sauntered into the store, sank into a chair near the fire, and called a greeting to Jim Hogg. The sheriff looked at Toothpick, and the latter shook his head; both hesitated to tell him the bad news. They served him a thick sandwich, which he munched in silence, then drank two cups of black coffee.

“Well?” he asked when he had finished.

Toothpick, Jim Hogg, and the sheriff stirred uneasily. Sam Hogg returned to the room just as the sheriff began to tell his story.

Sam Hogg stared at the little outlaw as he listened. This was not the boy he had seen the night before in the judge’s house. The freckled face was the same, but it was older. Allen was no longer a laughing youth, but a man whom all respected and, deep down in their hearts, feared. Allen’s expression never changed at the faltering accounts of the death of Dutchy and the kidnaping of Snippets. The ex-Ranger got the idea Allen had heard the story before and for some reason was concealing the fact.

Tad Hicks opened his sleepy eyes and stared at the little man by the stove. He took one look, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. He nudged Windy, and the plump puncher ceased his snores and sat up.

When the sheriff had finished, Toothpick stepped forward with clenched hands.

“Jim, Dutchy was my friend, and I want yuh to promise – ” he began.

Allen interrupted.

“I get yuh, but it can’t be did. Dutchy was downed by a couple of skunks what was called ‘Left Steve’ and Bill Ranee – ”

Sam Hogg now interrupted in his turn.

“Did yuh say was called?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Allen said indifferently. “Tom, I hears yuh fellows talkin’ last night where yuh lost the trail. I hears that Dutchy was downed, but don’t hear nothin’ about Snippets being run off. So I takes after the killers an’ downs ’em.”

They glanced from the little outlaw in the chair to one another, then back again. Windy Sam dug Tad Hicks in the ribs.

“Yuh know him?” he whispered.

“The Wolf,” Tad replied.

“I knows that, but take a look at them pants,” Windy muttered.

“The hobo! He talks of downin’ gents like yuh does prairie hens, an’ we come near beatin’ hell out of him,” Tad Hicks exclaimed in an awe-struck whisper.

“But the girl! Snippets! What are you going to do about her?” Jim Hogg demanded impatiently.

“I thinks I knows where she is,” Allen replied wearily.

“Let’s get goin’ then!” The choleric little storekeeper seized his hat.

“It can’t be did. They got her over in the lava fields. I got to trail ’em. I found where they went in and I’ve got to pick the rest out,” Allen said flatly.

“We got twenty men out there and a hundred more scattered about. We’ll comb them hills and find her,” Jim Hogg insisted.

Allen shook his head.

Sam Hogg and the sheriff looked at each other. They knew Allen was lying. For if there had been a single chance of Snippets being taken over the border he would be wasting no time in words. They could not fathom why he was lying.

“Looka here, there ain’t no use being stubborn,” Jim Hogg growled at Allen. “We got to do something.”

“Go ahead,” Allen replied. He looked at Sam Hogg and added: “I’m goin’ now. Where’s them hosses of mine?”

“Don’t yuh go ’way, sheriff,” Jim Hogg cried as his brother and Allen started toward the rear door. “I’m goin’ to see the judge and make him order yuh to hunt for that gal.”

As the furious storekeeper stormed out of the room Allen winked at Sam Hogg and the sheriff.

Outside, while he was saddling his horses, he explained. “The Toad’s got the Yuma Kid and Baldy and them two brothers watchin’ the girl. What happens if we go chargin’ in there? Do yuh think them four will give her up? And if we kill ’em they’ll sure enough take her with them.”

“What yuh goin’ to do?” the sheriff asked.

“I’m hopin’ Jim, your brother’ll do it for me. The Toad plumb hates me, an’ if he could down me he’d be willin’ to cut and run for Mexico after. When he hears I’m goin’ to try and pick out the trail through the lava fields I sorta figure he’ll tell his killers to hike it over there and get me; then I’ll get the girl.”

“And yuh lied deliberate to fool Jim?” Sam Hogg asked.

“Jim is right convincin’ when he’s got his mad up, an’ I don’t think he’s a good liar. I figure there’ll be some one who will be plumb anxious to pass the news on to the Toad.” Then Allen talked rapidly for a few minutes and the others listened in silence.

After Allen had vanished into the night the sheriff said admiringly: “Gosh, ain’t he a hellion?”

Sam Hogg nodded and hurried through the store. Outside he found Tad Hicks. He ordered him to follow and hurried down the dark, deserted street. He explained a little to Tad, and the two crouched down in some bushes opposite the judge’s and settled themselves to watch.

Jim Hogg was still spluttering with wrath when he burst into the judge’s house. Although the hour was late he found the judge’s family still up. Ace Cutts and Kennedy were with them.

“We got news of Snippets!” roared the storekeeper. “An’ I want yuh to order Tom Powers to gather every blessed man in town and search them lava hills, ’cause that’s where they got her.”

“What do you mean? How do you know? Is she hurt?” The judge fired rapid questions.

“Jim Allen tole me. He says they got her over there and that he knows part of the trail and is goin’ to pick out the rest to-morrow, but by that time the gal will be over the border,” Jim attempted to explain.

“Wait a minute, Mr. Hogg,” Kennedy spoke quietly. “Let’s get this straight. You say that Allen insists that Snippets is being held captive in the lava beds? And he’s going by himself to trail her?”

“That’s exactly what I said. The dam little runt – ”

“It’s sense to me,” Ace Cutts interrupted. “Three men in those lava beds can hold off a hundred. Allen has a better chance by himself,” he insisted.

The judge, Mrs. Ransom, and even Mary joined in the discussion as to the best way to rescue Snippets.

“I think Allen is right,” Kennedy said. “But then I’m an Eastern dude and don’t know anything about it. Good night, folks. I’m riding out to my ranch to-night, so I won’t see you to-morrow.”

“I’m going with yuh,” Ace Cutts stated.

The two went out and hurried toward the Red Queen.

Sam Hogg arose from his hiding place and growled: “The dirty skunk!”

“Who? Him or tother?” Tad asked.

Ten minutes later Kennedy and Ace Cutts rode down the street. The moment they had passed the judge’s house they put their horses into a wild, scrambling run.

Sam Hogg smiled grimly, then, drawing his gun from his holster, he fired three times in the air.

CHAPTER VIII

KIDNAPED

The attack had come so suddenly that Snippets McPherson hardly realized what was happening before she was roughly seized and hoisted to a horse in front of a masked man. She had uttered only one shrill scream, for common sense told her it was better to obey her captor than to risk his carrying out his threat of choking her. She realized that the single shot – the one which hit Dutchy – would raise the alarm.

So she remained passive. The thing that worried her more than her own situation was Dutchy’s fate. She was sure he had been badly hurt, for she knew the old gunman would never cease firing as long as he had strength to pull a trigger.

She marked the course they were traveling. It was almost due east. They followed the trail to the Frying Pan and Bar X for about five miles, then left it to take a course south. They twisted in and out of the brush, slid down banks and scrambled up sheer slides.

Snippets estimated that they were about ten miles from town when she was transferred to a waiting buckboard. As she was driven away in this, she heard the mooing of cattle and the shouts of men, and she knew that the cattle were being driven across their trail to hide it. There were two men in the buckboard with her. She sat on the driver’s seat with one, while another knelt in the rear. Suddenly the man behind her dropped a sack over her head which blinded her completely. Even breathing was difficult.

A half hour later she was lifted from the buckboard and carried into a house. The sack was removed and she found herself in a perfectly bare room. One of the men carried a flickering lantern; by its light she sized up her two captors. She had never seen either of them before. One was tall and thin, with a drooping mustache, and the other was a short, powerfully built Mexican.

“Yuh stay quiet and yuh won’t get hurted,” the one with the mustache said.

“If yuh don’t, I’ll – ” the Mexican began.

She could not resist saying: “You know who will come after me, don’t you? The Wolf!”

It amused her and gave her courage to see how they jumped. The Mexican snarled as, followed by the other, he left the room.

They took the lamp and left her in total darkness. She satisfied herself that the blinds on the windows were securely fastened, then tried to figure out where she was. She puzzled on this until her head nodded and she fell asleep.

She was awakened by the opening of the door. Sun streamed through the cracks in the blinds. A man entered. He was of medium height; his hat was pulled down over his eyes and a handkerchief covered his face.

“I’m not going to beat about the bush. You know where the Wolf holes out and you might as well tell me now as later,” the man said.

There was something about the voice that was vaguely familiar, but the handkerchief muffled the tones so that she could not place it.

“I don’t know where he is,” she faltered.

“Spill it,” repeated the man roughly. “I’m not going to stand here all day. I’m asking you where the Wolf holes out. You have only a little time. If yuh don’t tell I’ll turn you over to the Mexican out there. I’m comin’ back.”

He went out and locked the door after him. Snippets tried to pull herself together. Again and again she told herself that Allen would come, yet in spite of herself the fear grew. She ran to the blinds and beat against them with her hands; then she paced the room like a trapped animal. At last, worn out, she dropped on the floor.

In the late afternoon she heard voices outside. She flashed to the window and listened. There was one voice she knew – a high, cackling voice. That was Baldy. No doubt the Yuma Kid was with him. She heard harsh Mexican voices and caught scraps of conversation. The Toad had sent his killers here to wait for Allen. They knew he would trail her. Now she dropped on her knees and prayed that he would stay away.

Time passed and she crouched against the wall and listened – fearful for the shot which would tell her that Allen had come on his last mission. Daylight faded, and night came.

It must have been past midnight when the door opened with a jerk and the same man who had faced her that morning stood before her.

“You going to tell?” he snarled.

She faced him with the courage of despair.

“How can I tell when I don’t know where he is?”

He laughed harshly, leaped forward, caught one wrist in an iron grip, and twisted her arm cruelly.

“Spill it or I’ll twist your arm off,” he rasped.

She gritted her teeth and tried to suppress a scream. From outside came the noise of a horse at a hard gallop. The thought flashed into her mind that Jim Allen had arrived. The man threw her aside and ran from the room. She heard excited voices, the confusion of men running about. A few minutes later there came the sound of horses ridden rapidly away. The sounds ceased. She stole to the door, which the man had forgotten to lock, opened it, and glanced out. Her two captors were out there. Maybe they would go to bed soon. She must wait; she closed the door and sat on the floor near it, so she could hear them.

Hours later she sat up with a start and realized she had been asleep. The light of another gray dawn was seeping into the room. Again she opened the door. The men were still there. Their backs were toward her. She decided to chance it, to try to slip by them and out of the building. She must get away before the other man returned.

She moved softly, slowly. She was halfway there, when a board creaked, and the men turned. She leaped forward, but before she could reach the outer door the Mexican had her by the hair. She screamed and kicked at him.

“Yuh leetle fury,” he growled. “I theenk I’ll tame yuh.”

He buried both hands in her hair and shook her, yanked her about. He shifted his hands to her throat. Tighter and tighter he gripped.

Suddenly a terrific uproar rocked the room. The man released her, and she fell back against the wall. The air was filled with smoke. Slowly it cleared, and she saw Jim-twin Allen standing close to the door she had tried to reach. There was a smoking gun in his hand. Against the farther wall stood the tall man with the long mustache, his hands upraised, On the floor at her feet sprawled the Mexican, flat on his face, his arms and legs twisted grotesquely.

Snippets crossed to Allen. “I knew you would come,” she said simply.

He smiled at her. “Get back in there,” he snapped to the tall man who had been her captor. The man quailed in fright and backed, hands still raised, into the room where Snippets had been a prisoner.

“Come on, kid,” said Allen. “We got to get out of here.”

The two grays were waiting close to the house. A rifle hung on Honey Boy’s saddle.

“Do yuh think Princess will know yuh?” Allen asked.

Snippets placed her fingers to her lips and whistled. Princess cocked her ears, then, followed by her mate, dashed toward the girl. Snippets, undismayed by the snapping teeth, rubbed the mare’s soft muzzle.

“Hop on her, kid, ’cause those gents will be tearin’ mad,” he urged.

After they were mounted, Snippets glanced about in bewildered recognition of the landscape. “Why, this is the Bar X – uncle’s ranch!” she gasped. “What does it mean?”

Allen hesitated. “Reckon you’ll learn some time, so I might as well tell yuh, kid, that Ace Cutts is a bad actor.”

She thought of her uncle, of his fondness for the boy, and grew silent. Side by side they rode toward town in the bright morning sunlight.

Five riders approached out of a draw to the north of the lava fields. They were heading fast for the Bar X Ranch. Anderson, their leader, jerked his horse to a sudden, sliding stop. He pointed to the two figures on a smooth meadow a mile before them.

“Who the hell is that clown there?” he cried.

Quick suspicion fired the Yuma Kid. “Two grays!” he rasped.

Baldy’s thin lips drew back in a toothless snarl. “The Wolf!”

“He tricked us!” As Anderson made the admission, his face grew rigid, and the veins on the back of his neck expanded.

The other two riders were Mexicans, José and Pedro Gonzalez, two of the Toad’s men. Both were killers. They were used on raids where it was bad policy to leave any survivors.

“Madre de Dios!” José swore. “He has the girl!”

“We hang if – ” his brother began.

“We don’t stop him,” Anderson snapped. He gave his orders rapidly. The Mexicans swung their horses to cut in behind Allen, while Anderson, Baldy, and the Yuma Kid turned to their right to head him off. Anderson shouted with exultation when he saw Ace Cutts and several riders top the rise on the farther side of the valley. They had Allen in a trap.

Bill Anderson and the other two were within a half mile of Allen before he saw them. At a glance he understood that they would head him off. He grinned confidently at Snippets.

“Kid, we’re in a jam. Don’t try tuh guide Princess, she savvies how tuh follow,” he called cheerfully.

Allen swung Honey Boy straight up the northern rise toward several mushroomlike buttes. Princess followed some fifteen yards in the rear. He was within a few hundred yards of the crest when Ace Cutts and his men topped the rise. Ace shouted, and three of his men threw themselves off their horses and began to fire, while he and two other men continued to race along the crest.

Allen whirled his horse and sent it in a scrambling run along the treacherous slope. Without a touch of the reins from Snippets, Princess turned and followed. The range was long for accurate shooting, but some of the shots fired by the dismounted men sang uncomfortably close to Allen’s ears.