Mason of Bar X Ranch. Bennett Henry Holcomb
again running neck and neck.
When almost to the goal, Scotty threw his horse forward in a last heroic effort, flashing by the judge, the winner by a few feet.
A cheer went up from the cowboys as they crowded around Scotty to shake his hand.
“Guess I win that Stetson hat, don’t I, Red?” he called out to his late opponent, his eyes twinkling.
“You sure do,” answered Red, his manner a trifle piqued, “but this thing ain’t settled for good. I mean to have another go with you and it won’t be so close next time.”
“Any time or place will suit me,” answered Scotty cheerfully.
The next contest was to be a roping duel between Buck Miller and Pete Carlo the halfbreed. Buck had protested against having anything to do with the greaser, as he had named him in contempt, but Bud’s reasoning had prevailed and Buck finally agreed to go on with him.
Bud Anderson, acting as the judge, was explaining the rules for the expert ropers to observe, when a commotion was heard from some of the cowboys at the far end of the corral.
“Here comes Buck’s friend,” yelled a cowboy from this group.
All looked, and sure enough, it was the stranger that Buck had told them about. Buck muttered something suspiciously like an oath, and glanced at Mason. The latter was intently watching the newcomer. All sport came to a standstill, and eyes were turned towards the stranger. He was near enough for them to see that he rode a small horse, or else he was a very tall man for his feet just cleared the ground. He was riding at a snail’s pace and fanning himself with a wide rimmed hat. A suit that fairly groaned with loud checks graced his tall and angular form.
Silence fell upon the group of cowboys as they watched the apparition dismount in front of them.
Dismount is not the word, for he simply stuck his feet on the ground and let the horse walk out from under him, after which he turned and faced the cowboys.
“Somebody dead?” he questioned, gazing solemnly at the group, and bowing blandly to each one.
“I take it, this is the Bar X ranch,” he rattled on, before anyone could speak.
“Yes, you’ve hit it,” came quietly from the ranch owner. He was trying to figure out if this stranger was a freak or a fool.
“Met one of your men the other day, nice pleasant fellow,” the freak began again, in his small piping voice.
He smiled serenely at Buck Miller. That worthy’s face turned black with anger.
“My name is Ed. MacNutt, at your service,” the stranger rambled on. “I inquired at the hotel for a good place to recruit up, as the doctor says one of my lungs is affected. From the hotel man’s description, I take it you’re the proprietor of this outfit, and I ask you to let me put up here until I feel strong again.”
The request seemed fair enough, and after a short talk with his wife the ranch owner told MacNutt he could stay with them, after first warning him against the fresh way he talked to the cowboys.
It was arranged for him to have quarters at the bunk house. On account of the delay caused by MacNutt, the match was called off between the halfbreed and Buck Miller, much to the latter’s satisfaction.
The next event was to be a wrestling match. Tom Powers, the man that Mason disliked, was one of the contestants. He soon proved himself a superior wrestler, throwing all his opponents in rapid succession, and boasting loudly that he could throw any three men on the range within an hour’s time.
Mason had been observing Powers’ methods closely, and remarked to Bud, who stood close by, that the wrestler appeared muscle bound.
He had spoken in a low voice, but Powers overheard him and a sneer came into his face.
“Perhaps the dude would like to try me out!” he said insolently, motioning towards Mason, the sneer curling the corners of his mouth.
Mason felt the hot blood rush to his face. Quickly throwing off a light sweater which he wore, he stepped towards Powers. Anderson and the ranch owner caught him by the arm, telling him it would be madness to wrestle Powers, as he was regarded as the champion for miles around.
“Oh, let him come on, and I’ll show him up,” sneered Powers.
Mason laughed in his face.
“I’ll go on with him,” he said briskly to Anderson.
Walking up to Powers he said, “I am going to warn you, Powers, that I’ve wrestled before, so be on your guard. I don’t wish to take any unfair advantage of you.”
“Bluff,” sneered Powers, glaring at him.
MacNutt was apparently enjoying himself to the fullest extent. He was here, there, and all over, talking to each and every person as if he had known them all his life. Ambling up to Josephine, he whispered:
“Young feller’s got it all over the other guy,” pointing to Powers.
The girl nodded. She wasn’t sure if she liked this stranger or not, and just now, she was worried for fear the Easterner would get hurt.
The wrestlers were circling about each other looking for an opening. Suddenly they came together with Mason underneath. Powers tried several holds which he broke with ease. There were surprised remarks from the men, who had expected to see the Easterner crushed. The girl was staring with wide open eyes expecting every minute the life would be crushed from his body.
“Didn’t I tell you?” said a voice in her ear, and turning she beheld the stranger again.
“Oh,” she cried with a shudder. “Do you really think the young fellow has a chance?”
“Sure thing,” he answered in his high pitched voice. “The young lad is merely playing with him.”
The girl rewarded his assurance with a grateful smile and turned her attention again to the two men. Mason had broken every hold his opponent had tried and had the fellow pretty nearly winded.
Baffled at every turn, Powers resorted to dirty work. He fouled Mason again and again, until the latter worked to his feet and cautioned him against fouling. As he was protesting, Powers rushed in and securing a body hold, lifted Mason off his feet. As he felt himself falling he twisted his body in the air, bringing Powers underneath him and pinned both his shoulders to the ground, scoring a clean fall.
There was a burst of applause from the men, the girl joining in, her face radiant with smiles.
All present had thought sure that Mason would lose the first fall when they had seen him lifted off his feet. This was scientific wrestling, and the men began to appreciate it. Powers was furious over his defeat and swore the fall was a trick. The black nature of the man had Mason fighting mad by this time, and when the next bout was called, he darted in on Powers.
What followed brought a cry of wonder from the crowd. Powers’ heels had described an arc in the air; and he fell with such force that he lay stunned. Mason had secured a hold called the flying mare and had used it with telling effect.
CHAPTER V – THE ABDUCTION OF JOSEPHINE
A quiver ran through the form of the man on the ground. After two vain attempts, he rose slowly to his feet, his face contorted with rage.
Unobserved, the halfbreed had edged up close to the circle formed by the men and drawing his gun, fired point blank at Mason, who fell to the ground with a low moan. The assassin, not waiting to see the effect of his shot, sprang with a bound into the saddle of the nearest horse. Sinking his spurs deep into the animal’s flank he was away before anyone thought to stop him. It all happened so quickly the men stood dazed.
Bud was the first to rouse them to action. Emptying his gun after the fugitive he called out sharp orders to the men.
There was a scramble for horses as the cowboys responded. A cry of dismay went up from the men when it was discovered that the halfbreed had taken the fastest horse of the lot, Josephine’s famous Fleet.
As Mason fell, the girl had rushed