THE CROSS BAR-8 LOSES SLEEP
SNEED was angry, which be by the way he talked, ate, moved and swore. He had many to for and they were over six hundred square miles of territory. The work was hard when he had his full dozen punchers, but now it from the of his men, who asleep while their at night, and who in a way almost mechanical. The work was not to of temper, and he was among the members of the outfit. Where only would have over of opinion, now forth; and the were greatly, and every day. Things which would have no notice, or a laugh at most, now and surliness. And the for the work was the of five cow punchers.
132Sneed, of the missing men and of himself as to why they had not returned, fell, instead, to an for them on their return to the ranch. He needed no rehearsing, for while he did not know in just what manner he would his ideas them, he what his ideas were and he had always been good at when under pressure, and he was under pressure now if he had been.
The work was hard in itself to his anger to and to create and on the part of his men, but it was only one of his discontent. Busy all day at the away from the Backbone and closer to the proper where they would be less likely to to Apache raiders; all day from the of to the of the night, they have up under the strain, for these were men of iron, to and riding. But as they were there was one thing which they must have, and that was sleep. If they have only four hours of sleep when they themselves, with the of their 133boots, in their bunks, they have the labor for weeks. But this was them, and on their minds were of fire, and death.
For a week night had been a terror on the Cross Bar-8. No sooner had the asleep than of window would about them, and stinging. There was not a whole window in the house and the door was so full of lead that it on its half-shattered hinges. Cooking were fast premiums, for an be on the premises. And their cook, a Mexican, who most in a personal and a hell, and who that he was in to both, the for just two nights and then, panic-stricken, had from the place and left them to their own as best they could. The protection of the was all very well and good under ordinary circumstances, but when they failed to stop the which passed through his cook and which more than once had him, it was time for him to some place from the Cross Bar-8, and where the was less 134strong. When the allowed a devil-sped to a it was time to migrate, which he did, but in when the had and when the was not in evidence.
The of the house and the house were wrecked. The clock, the of the foreman, with its in the it by a .50 slug, its hands pointing to half-past one. Lead the walls, where opposite windows, and the and were a disgrace. Sombreros, and the pictures the were like of pepper shakers. No sooner was a light than it the for a shot, and more than one gave proof as to the of the perpetrator. So that they asleep at supper, the men were by the noise of and the of the bullets. Pursuit was a failure, and was also hazardous, as proven by Bert Hodge’s arm, by a .50 from somewhere.
The two houses, as they were, were when to the condition of the other of the ranch. Horses were 135at all points, and always with a in the center of the forehead. The of the plain, and fire had half-destroyed the three corrals. The three new cook wagons, unsheltered, were of and nuts, and their were ruined. A wheel was missing from each of them and their had been cut through in the middle, the ends being on the of the house three minutes after their had the foreman, who the and of a as he opened the door. The best had been off and the had fire on nights when it should have slept. And the small water near the cook shack, which water for the house, had been of a on two mornings. Scouting was of no avail, for the (which now the night in the house) were as as their riders. Keeping was a farce, for it had been twice, and the had asleep; and, by their at dawn, that their rifles, and their were missing. With all his for The Orphan, Sneed was fair-minded to give his enemy for being the 136man. When the had and the and his men were fresh, he had the his whole attention; and he was no fool. But he had nothing but a of defeat, which did not his peace of mind or him to a of his anger. Do what he could, plan as he might, he was beaten, and at every turn. He had to with a man and were above the average; a man who, a and a in with strategy, above the ordinary and outlaw. Sneed that he was at the of his enemy and why it was that he did not up in the night and kill the as it slept, which was feasible. Finally, when the had too much for his iron nerves the was to take on the and give it his personal protection. The relations the and the were not as as they might have been, and the of this was and to the and his outfit.
When Shields to take of the trouble, 137accompanied by Charley and two others, he the foreman, for Charley had news of a nature for the Cross Bar-8.
The ran out of the house and met them near the corral, where the had taken place.
“By the God, Sheriff!” he cried, white with anger. “This thing has got to stop if we have to call out the cavalry! We can’t a breakfast–not a whole plate or pan in the house! Our and are being by the score! And as for the of our possessions, they are so full of that they when the wind blows!”
“So I heard,” the sheriff. “I’ll do my best.”
“We’ve been doing our best, but what good is it?” the foreman. “We are so we go to sleep moving about! We our after dark without being a of! Our new are wrecks, the and the best us for our while it burned! That has got to be killed, d––n him!”
“We’ll do our best, Sneed,” Shields. 138“I we can stop it; at least we can give you a good night’s rest.”
“Where are my five punchers?” Sneed asked; his until his voice broke. “And Bucknell! D––n near you him above the cañon, up like a of flour!”
“Well, Charley can tell you about your men,” Shields responded, the on all of him.
“Well, what about them?” the to the sheriff’s deputy, anger in his eyes.
“Well,” Charley slowly began, “I was taking a cut this morning, and when I got to a place about a dozen miles of the mouth of Bill’s cañon, I saw five on the desert. They were your cow-punchers, and they was so full of that they looked like big brooms. Apaches, I reckon,” he added sententiously.
Sneed his and when he was not choking.
“And after I told them to let up on that outlaw’s trail!” he yelled. “Where will it end, war-whoops and murders? What of 139a God-forsaken is this, anyhow? A man can’t his nose out of his own house after dark without having it by a slug! He’s a h–l of a orphant, he is! Poor thing, ain’t got no or to look after his dear little hide! He needs a of for a papa, that’s what he needs, and a good for a mamma! Orphant! He’s a h–l of a orphant!”
“Have you him?” asked the sheriff, having to in of himself at the on all of him, and at the foreman’s words.
“Trailed him!” Sneed, on his in his vehemence. “Trailed him! Good God, yes! But what good is it, what can we do when our are so dod-gasted that they can’t catch a bug? Trailed him! Yes, we him, all right! We him until we asleep in the on our sleeping cayuses! And while we were gone, d––d if he didn’t in and up our furniture! We him, all right; just like a of cross-eyed, ants! We had to wake each other up, and he could-a killed the whole of us with a club! And my who were so cock-sure they’d him! 140How in h–l did they go and up with Apaches? They wasn’t no kids!”
“The last time we saw them they were the stage to go south after him,” Charley said. “They hadn’t got more than ten miles south when they must have met the Apaches. I have a that The Orphan had a hand in that meeting, but how he did it I don’t know. But I know that the spot was for a head-on collision. Punchers south would turn the of the and into the party they it. And I didn’t see The Orphant’s around all full of arrows, neither.”
Sneed’s was pathetic. He almost frothed, and in his blood-shot eyes. His and his were red as fire and the of his and out like whip-cords, while his convulsively. He was of speech, his being growls, a series of snarls, and he only and forth, his arms and wildly.
Shields about the and gave a orders, his men them without delay. One man was to keep in the house while Sneed and his woe-begone men slept. The 141and Charley away toward the north to the search for the outlaw; and there was to be no asked or if his had anything to do with it.
The himself about the in a plan the had out, and his were peculiar. First a position from which a man an view of the premises, he to off in all directions. The place was about eight hundred yards west of the house and house, and one of a triangle with them; and from it it was possible to look in through the of of them. Any one good range of either house would up against the lights in the windows; and if a man had been over with on that particular angle, he off the without being seen. The Orphan was to meet with a if he paid his regular visit the night.
The deputy, after his work to his three more positions where they the corrals, the and the of the house. Then he more 142distances and was that objects in the direct lines the positions, this being to make it for the to shoot each other. This done, he into the house and with his in arms, laughing about the joke they would play on the marauder.
While Shields and Charley the plain and while the and and paced, and while Sneed and his cow-punchers slept as if in death, safely under guard, two men were along the Ford’s Station Sagetown Trail well to the east of the Backbone, and the same of tobacco. One of them sat high up in the air on the seat of a stage coach, from where he his six-horse team. His was in and his was one of contentment. The other alongside on a dirty which had a white on the near foot, close watch of the plain, his mind active and alert.
Bill Howland laughed and his with enthusiasm: “Say, Orphant,” he cried, “you are h–l with that Cross 143Bar-8 gang! You has got them so up and that they don’t know where they are! If their was money they’d have to up their drinks. They’re about as as dogs. They me of the who a to see if it was alive, and out that it was. No, sir, they won’t die of brain fever. Why, they ain’t had any sleep for a week, have to work hard, eat what they can cook in tins, and can’t say their soul’s their own after dark. They if they one day and all but one of sleep. Then the other his at night. But they don’t know enough. Oh, it’s rich: the whole town is laughing at ’em fit to bust. It’s the thing in these parts since I’ve been out here.”
Then he paused: “Say, Sneed sent a to town this morning. It was that brass-headed, flat-faced Bucknell, what you up by the cañon. He the to in a dozen men and come out and protect his and the of the outfit. And the pin-headed and the whole thing right in of the Taggert’s crowd, and he had 144to blow, all right. He did, and that gang’s always thirsty.”
The the from his cigarette and smiled: “Well?” he asked, looking up.
“So Shields took Charley Winter and the two Larkin boys and out to the right after the back. So you want to go easy to-night or you’ll touch off some and such. Shields and his men will out there for days and nights. That’ll give the a to up a nights. But you be about them and or you’ll some. Now, don’t you that I told you about it. I wouldn’t-a said nothing at all, as it ain’t none of my business, only you and got me out of a tight place, and Bill Howland don’t a favor, no siree! You gave me a square and a full on kings with them paint shops, and I’ll give you a every time I can. It wouldn’t be a to watch for me once in a while–I might have some news for you.”
Bill’s offer, plain as it was that he to help, not only he was in to the outlaw, but also he to have safe trips, touched 145the deeply. Never in his life had The Orphan been offered a helping hand from a stranger; all he for was to the first. He on silently, in thought, and then, his cigarette at a cactus, his and looked full at the man above him.
“You play square with me, Bill, and I’ll take of you,” he replied. “The less you say, the less you are to put your in it. I’ll my mouth about your information, for if Shields what you’ve just said he’d play a for you to to. The Cross Bar-8 would shoot you a day passed. Any time you have news for me, tie your to that cactus,” pointing to an tall plant close at hand. “Do it on your trip. If I see it in time I’ll meet you on the Sagetown end of the on your return. I’m going now, so by-by.”
“So long, and good luck,” Bill heartily. “I’ll do the game, all right. Be some about the way you around that of a Cross Bar-8 for the next days.”
The Orphan and back, making 146a to the south, for he had a plan to and did not wish to be by meeting any more parties. Bill his team and rolled on his way to Sagetown, a happy his countenance.
“They can’t us, bronchs,” he to his team. “Me and The Orphant can the whole territory, you we can!”
