THE SHERIFF FINDS THE ORPHAN
THE day along for the man in the chaparral, and when the sun that it was still two hours from the he to his feet, in hand, and to the west, where he had a fast-riding two which on the western end of the Cimarron Trail. Without pausing, he his way out of and ran along the of the until he had its extremity, where he into it, of the and from the thorns. Using the as a club, he and pushed until he was screened from the view of any one along the trail, but where he see all who approached. As he and the west he saw the from the of the last in his and 34straight for the of the trails, his to the earth by the speed it was making. Waiting until the was fifty yards of him, he pushed his way out to the trail, the to his as he into the open. The was looking at a dozen Apaches who had into view by the he had just quitted, and when he he was stopped by a and the of an by the man on foot.
“A truce!” The Orphan from the sights, having an idea and to it.
“Hell, yes!” the in reply, and the already to the place where the had the last hours.
By close to the of the chaparral, which from the trail, The Orphan had not been by the Apaches, and as he into his place a his ears. His on the were not to be unmourned.
As he his way into the thicket, closely by the sheriff, he the situation, and Shields, under to the man who had from 35killing him, and in good nature. The it was a joke and his enemy on the to his appreciation, for the time that they very would try to kill each other later on, after the Apaches had been taken of.
As they a point which gave them a clear view of the bowlder, The Orphan his on the shin, pointing to the Apaches around their dead.
“It’s a little over three hundred, Sheriff,” he said. “You shoot and I’ll you, so they’ll think you twice–there’s no use them think that there’s two of us, that is, not yet.”
“Good idea,” the sheriff, and his to his shoulder. “Right end for me,” he said, calling his so as to be sure that the same would not all the attention. As he his the second warrior, using one of his Winchesters, and a second later the flame. Both and the four their and the bowlder, the sheriff’s second a part of the last one to cover.
36“Fine!” the sheriff, at the score. “Best game I took a hand in, d––-d if it ain’t! We’ll have them so hard that they’ll brain fever.”
“Three in as many will make them think that they are a Winchester in the hands of a shot,” The Orphan, with at the sheriff’s appreciation. “They’ll think that if they can off from the and keep it them and you that they can out of range in a hundred yards more. That is where I come in again. You a little lead to let them know that you haven’t moved a whole lot, but stop in a of minutes, while I go the line a ways. The to the north a little, and I can a their from there. That’ll make them think you are a at ground and will them. If they rush, which they won’t after that of shooting, you good and loud and we’ll make them disgusted. I’ll take a Winchester along with me, so they won’t have any to that you are an arsenal. So long.”
The up as his 37and was pleased at the outlaw’s of the situation. He had a good to out the man, but that he would not do, for The Orphan him, and Shields was one who a thing like that.
The stopped about a hundred yards the and looked out, using his glasses. A under the of the and he smiled, the on the Winchester as he waited. Soon the from the ground and pushed out into sight. Then a of black itself and slowly raised. The Orphan took and the trigger. The to the and the once or twice and then quiet. Leaping up, the to the of the sheriff, who did not trouble himself to look up.
“I got him, Sheriff,” he said. “Work up to the other end and I’ll go to where I came from. They have got all the they have any use for and will be away soon now. The range from the point where I you is some closer than it is from here, so you ought 38to in a when they back.”
“All right,” Shields, the as he his to the western end of the thicket. “Ouch!” he as he the pricks. Then he stopped and slowly and saw The Orphan at him, and grinned:
“Say,” he began, “why can’t I go around?” he asked, with a of his arm the southern of the chaparral, and that it would be more to skirt the than to against them. “These d––––d ain’t no joke!” he added emphatically.
The outlaw’s and he at the to see that all was as it should be.
“You can go around in one day afoot,” he replied. “By that time they”–pointing to the Apaches–“will have a day’s on cayuses. And we mustn’t let them the best of us that way.”
Shields and half-way around again: “It’s a whole out here,” he said, “and my is on my cayuse.”
“Here, pardner,” The Orphan, 39out his and the of the familiarity. “Seven is the dose.”
The him, took the vessel, seven and returned it.
“I’m some now,” he remarked, as he returned to the thorns. “It’s too d––––n you’re bad,” he grumbled. “You’d make a good cow-puncher.”
The Orphan, still smiling, his hands on and the arm of the law.
“He’s all right–too he’ll make me shoot him,” he soliloquized, toward his post. As he through a particularly of he stopped to himself and laughed outright. “How in did he so west? My was as plain as day, too.” When he had his and had settled to watch the he laughed again and muttered: “Mebby he it out that I was and was for me to up. And that’s just the way I would have gone, too. He ain’t any fool, all right.”
He of the at the end of the and of the he carried, and an of over him. 40The would be pleased to do the himself, he thought, and the was father to the act. He up the Winchester he had with him and at the bowlder, only to let the Apaches know his position so that they would think the way clear to the northwest, and so give the a at them as they retreated. Dropping the Winchester he took up his Sharps, his rifle, with which he had done shooting, and to one knee, supporting his left on the other; the of his left hand he a in order that no time should be in reloading. The range was now five hundred yards, and when The Orphan the exact range he with if he missed.
His had the he it would have, for there was movement the bowlder. A pony’s for an and then from as the reloaded. A cloud of to the of and the bowlder, and a series of close reports from the direction of the sheriff. The Orphan to his and out on the plain to where his would not be and saw 41an Apache, who on the of his horse, and along the northern trail. He fired, but the range was too great, and the soon from over the range of hills. As The Orphan his way toward the the from his and pointed to the west. A on its and not away was the of its rider.
As they each other the noticed something about the sheriff’s ear, and his look of was rewarded. “Stung,” Shields, apologetically. “Just as I shot,” he added in of the Apache’s escape. “Wonder what my wife’ll say?” he mused, nursing the swelling.
The Orphan’s opened a at the sheriff’s last words, and he of the party he had sent north. His was immediate: no married man had any to risks, and he was that he from on sight.
“Sheriff, you vamoose. Clear out now, while you have the chance. Ride west for an hour, and then north for Ford’s Station. That that got away is to into twenty-seven of 42his friends and relatives that I sent north to meet you. And they won’t waste any time in back, neither.”
Shields of his ear and laughed softly. He had a sudden, for his humorous, enemy, for he which he had always in high esteem. While he had waited in the for the Apaches to he had if the Indians which The Orphan had sent north had been sent for the purpose of meeting him, and now he had the answer. Instead of him against his companion, it his respect for that individual’s strategy, and he only admiration.
“I saw your in time to duck,” the said, laughing. “If they on going as they were when I saw them they must have my about three hours later. When they that it is a safe that at least some of them took it up. So if it’s all the same to you, I’ll the north and the west alone and take another home. I have up all the war-whoops I about, so I am well satisfied.”
He toward his belt, and then looked into The Orphan’s gun, which 43rested easily on that person’s hip. His hand on, however, but more slowly and with but two extended, and into his chap’s pocket, from which it slowly and a of tobacco and some rice paper. The Orphan looked embarrassed for a second and then laughed softly.
“You’re a square man, Sheriff, but I wasn’t sure,” he said in apology. “So long.”
“That’s all right,” the heartily. “I was a big to make a play like that!”
The Orphan and around and walked away in the direction of his horse. Shields at his and then rolled a cigarette and grinned: “By George!” he at the by his companion, and he slowly followed.
After they had in the and looked his in the and a steady, look in return.
“What the you them sheep that way?” he asked. “And go and drive all of them sheep over the bank?”
The Orphan momentarily, but answered without reserve.
44“Those sheep they’d a reputation!” he answered. “And they would have it, too, only I them on the draw. As for the muttons, they at the and pushed each other over the bank. To with the herders–they only got what they was trying to hand me. But I’m a whole sorry about the sheep, although I can’t say I’m on range-killers of any kind.”
The his companion’s gun and its into into action, which him that The Orphan was telling the truth, and the last for the two for the day.
“Yes, it is too bad, all them sheep that way,” he slowly replied. “But they are at times. Well, do we part?” he asked, out his hand.
“I we do, Sheriff, and I’m to have met you,” the as he hands with no grip. “Keep away from them Apaches, and so long.”
“Thanks, I will,” the arm of the law. “And I’m to have met you, too. So long!”