Jim Waring of Sonora-Town; Or, Tang of Life. Henry Herbert Knibbs
Ramon says that, he lies. I told Ramon—"
"Thanks. That's all I want to know. I don't care what you told Ramon. You let him take the horses. Now, I'm going to tell you something that will be worth more to you than gold. Don't try to rope any stock grazing round here to-night. I might wake up quick and make a mistake. Men look alike in the moonlight—and we'll have a moon."
"It shall be as the señor says. It is fate."
"All right, amigo. But it isn't fate. It's making fool mistakes when you or your countrymen tackle a job like Vaca tackled. Just get me a couple of blankets. I'll sleep out here to-night."
Juan Armigo plodded to the adobe. The lamplight showed his face beaded with sweat. He shuffled to an inner room, and came out with blankets on his arm. Vaca lay on a bed-roll in the corner of the larger room, and near him stood Ramon.
"The señor sleeps with the horses," said Armigo significantly.
Ramon bent his head and muttered a prayer.
"And if you pray," said Armigo, shifting the blankets from one arm to the other, "pray then that the two horses that you borrowed may return. As for your Uncle José, he will not die."
"And we shall be taken to the prison," said Ramon."
"You should have killed the gringo." And Armigo's tone was matter-of-fact. "Or perhaps told him where you had hidden the gold. He might have let you go, then."
Ramon shook his head. Armigo's suggestion was too obviously a question as to the whereabouts of the stolen money.
The wounded man opened his eyes. "I have heard," he said faintly. "Tell the gringo that I will say where the money is hidden if he will let me go."
"It shall be as you wish," said Armigo, curious to learn more of the matter.
At the corral he delivered Vaca's message to Waring, who feigned delight at the other's information.
"If that is so, Tio Juan," he laughed, "you shall have your share—a hundred pesos. Leave the blankets there by my saddle. We will go to the house."
From the coolness of night, with its dim radiance of stars, to the accumulated heat of the interior of the adobe was an unpleasant change. The walls were whitewashed and clean enough, but the place smelled strongly of cooking. A lamp burned on the oilcloth-covered table. Ramon, wide-eyed with trepidation, stood by his uncle, who had braced himself on his elbow as Waring approached. Waring nodded pleasantly and rolled a cigarette. José Vaca glared up at him hungrily. The lower lip, pendulous, showed his broken teeth. Waring thought of a trapped wolf. Juan glanced from one to the other.
But the gringo seemed incurious, merely gazing at the pictures on the walls; a flaming print of the Madonna, one of the Christ, a cheap photograph of Juan and his señora taken on their wedding day, an abalone shell on which was painted something resembling a horse and rider—
"The gold is hidden in the house of Pedro Salazar, of Sonora. It is buried in the earth beneath his bed."
José Vaca had spoken, but Waring was watching Ramon's eyes.
"All right, hombre. Muchas gracias."
"And now you will let me go?" queried Vaca.
"I haven't said so." Waring's tone was pleasant, almost indifferent.
Ramon's face was troubled. Of what use was it to try and deceive the gringo? But Waring was smiling. Did he, then, believe such an obvious lie?
"Bueno!" Waring exclaimed. "That lets you out. Now, what about you, Ramon?"
"My uncle has spoken," said Ramon. "I have nothing to say."
"Then you will ride with me to Sonora."
"As you say, señor."
"All right. Don't sit up all night praying. That won't do any good. Get some sleep. And you, too, Juan." And Waring turned quickly to Armigo. "Sleep all you can. You'll feel better in the morning."
Waring turned and strode out. In the corral he spread his blankets. With his head on the saddle, he lay gazing up at the stars.
The horses, with the exception of Waring's buckskin Dex, huddled in one corner of the corral. That strange shape stretched quietly on the ground was new to them.
For a long time the horse Dex stood with head lowered and one hip sagged as he rested. Just before Waring slept he felt a gentle nosing of his blankets. The big horse sniffed curiously.
"Strange blankets, eh?" queried Waring drowsily. "But it's the same old partner, Dex."
The horse walked slowly away, nosing along the fence. Waring knew that he was well sentineled. The big buckskin would resent the approach of a stranger by snorting. Waring turned on his side and slept. His day's work was done.
CHAPTER III
Donovan's Hand
Waring was up with the first faint streak of dawn. He threw hay to the horses and strode briskly to the adobe. Juan Armigo was bending over the kitchen stove. Waring nodded to him and stepped to the next room. The Mexicans were asleep; young Ramon lying face down beneath the crucifix on the wall, where he had knelt in prayer most of the night.
Waring drew back quietly.
"Let them sleep," he told Juan in the kitchen.
After frijoles and coffee, the gunman rose and gestured to Juan to follow him.
Out near the corral, Waring turned suddenly. "You say that young Ramon is straight?"
"Si, señor. He is a good boy."
"Well, he's in dam' bad company. How about Vaca?"
Juan Armigo shrugged his shoulders.
"Are you afraid of him, Juan?"
"No. But if he were to ask me for anything, it would be well to let him have it."
"I see. So he sent young Ramon in here for two extra horses, and you were afraid to refuse. I had thought you were an honest man. After I have gone, go hunt up those horses in the cañon. And if any one from Sonora rides in here and asks about Ramon or Vaca or me, you don't know anything about us. Sabe? If your horses are found before you get to them, some one stole them. Do these things. I don't want to come back to see if you have done them."
Juan Armigo nodded, gazing at Waring with crafty eyes. So the gringo was tempted by the gold. He would ride back to Sonora, find the stolen money in the house of Pedro Salazar, and keep it. It would be a very simple thing to do. Young Ramon would be afraid to speak and José Vaca would have disappeared. The gringo could swear that he had not found the bandits or the gold. So reasoned Juan, his erstwhile respect for the gunman wavering as the idea became fixed. He grinned at Waring. It would be a good trick; to steal the gold from the stealers. Of a certainty the gringo was becoming almost as subtle as a Mexican.
Waring was not pleased as he read the other's eyes, but he said nothing. Turning abruptly, he entered the corral and saddled Ramon's horse and his own.
"Get José Vaca out of here as soon as he can travel," he told Armigo. "You may have to explain if he is found here." And Waring strode to the adobe.
Ramon was awake and talking with his uncle. Waring told him to get something to eat. Then he turned to Vaca.
"José," he began pleasantly, "you tried to get me yesterday, but you only spoiled a good Stetson. See? You shot high. When you go for a man again, start in at his belt-buckle and get him low. We'll let that go this time. When you can ride, take your cayuse and fan it anywhere—but don't ride back to Sonora. I'll be there. I'm going to herd young Ramon back home. He is isn't your kind. You are free. Don't jabber. Just tell all that to