Ranching For Sylvia Volume-554 by Harold Bindloss (chrome ebook reader .TXT) 📕

Grant's Messenger Had Been Saved A Long Ride To His Station.

"Well?" He Said.

"When We Couldn't Find The Buck, Flett Sent His Partner Off To Pick Up

His Trail, And Then Said We'd Better Take The Team Along And Look For

You.  I Left Where The Trail Forks; He Was To Wait A Bit.  Now, Do You

Think You Can Get Up?"

George Did So, And Managed With Some Assistance To Climb The Slope,

Where His Companion Left Him And Went Off For The Constable.  Flett

Arrived Presently, And Made George Tell His Story.

"The Thing's Quite Plain," He Said.  "The Fellow You Saw Jumped Off

With The Liquor, Though One Wouldn't Expect Him To Carry It Far.  You

Say He Was Tall; Did He Walk A Little Lame?"

"It Was Too Dark To Tell.  I'm Inclined To Think I Would Know Him

Again."

"Well," Explained Flett, "This Is The Kind Of Thing Little Ax Is Likely

To Have A Hand In, And He's The Tallest Buck In The Crowd.  I'll Stick

To The Team Until We Come Across Somebody Who Knows Its Owner.  The

First Thing We Have To Do Is To Find That Case Of Liquor."

Half An Hour Later The Teamster Came Back Carrying It, And Set It Down

Before The Constable With A Grin.

"Guess It's Your Duty To See What's In These Bottles," He Remarked.

"Shall I Get One Out?"

"You Needn't; I've A Pretty Good Idea," Answered Flett; Adding

Meaningly, "Besides, It's The Kind Of Stuff A White Man Can't Drink."

Then He Turned To George.  "I'd Better Take You Home.  You Look Kind Of

Shaky."

"What About My Horse?" George Asked.

"Guess He's Made For Home," Said The Teamster.  "I Struck His Trail,

And It Led Right Out Of The Woods."

George Got Into The Wagon With Some Trouble, And The Teamster Rode

Beside It When They Set Off.

"You Haven't Much To Put Before A Court," He Said To Flett.

"No," The Constable Replied Thoughtfully.  "I'm Not Sure Our People

Will Take This Matter Up; Anyway, It Looks As If We Could Only Fix It

On The Indians.  This Is What Comes Of You Folks Fooling Things,

Instead Of Leaving Them To Us."

"The Police Certainly Like A Conviction," Rejoined The Teamster,

Grinning.  "They Feel Real Bad When The Court Lets A Fellow Off; Seem

To Think That's Their Business.  Guess It's Why A Few Of Their

Prisoners Escape."

Flett Ignored This, And The Teamster Turned To George.

"I'll Tell You What Once Happened To Me.  I Was Working For A Blamed

Hard Boss, And It Doesn't Matter Why I Quit Without Getting My Wages

Out Of Him, But He Wasn't Feeling Good When I Lit Out Behind A

Freight-Car.  By Bad Luck, There Was A Trooper Handy When A Train-Hand

Found Me At A Lonely Side-Track.  Well, That Policeman Didn't Know What

To Do With Me.  It Was Quite A Way To The Nearest Guard-Room; They

Don't Get Medals For Corraling A Man Who's Only Stolen A Ride, And He

Had To Watch Out For Some Cattle Rustlers; So Wherever He Went I Had To

Go Along With Him.  We Got Quite Friendly, And One Night He Said To Me,

'There's A Freight That Stops Here Nearly Due.  I'll Go To Sleep While

You Get Out On Her.'"

The Teamster Paused And Added With A Laugh:

"That's What I Did, And I'd Be Mighty Glad To Set The Drinks Up If I

Ever Meet That Man Off Duty.  We'd Both Have A Full-Size Jag On Before

We Quit."

"And You're One Of The Fellows Who're Running Hardie's Temperance

Campaign!" Flett Said Dryly.

Flett Left The Team At George's Homestead.  Bidding Him Take Good Care

Of It, And Borrowing A Fresh Team, He Drove Away With The Wagon.  When

He Reached Sage Butte It Was Getting Dusk.  He Hitched The Horses

Outside Of The Better Of The Two Hotels And Entered In Search Of Food,

As He Had Still A Long Ride Before Him.  Supper Had Long Been Finished,

And Flett Was Kept Waiting For Some Time, But He Now And Then Glanced

At The Wagon.  It Was Dark When He Drove Away, After Seeing That The

Case Lay Where He Had Left It, And He Had Reached His Post Before He

Made A Startling Discovery.  When He Carried The Case Into The

Lamplight, It Looked Smaller, And On Hastily Opening It He Found It Was

Filled With Soil!

He Sat Down And Thought; Though On The Surface The Matter Was Clear--He

Had Been Cleverly Outwitted By Somebody Who Had Exchanged The Case

While He Got His Meal.  This, As He Reflected, Was Not The Kind Of

Thing For Which A Constable Got Promoted; But There Were Other Points

That Required Attention.  The Substitution Had Not Been Effected By

Anybody Connected With The Queen's; It Was, He Suspected, The Work Of

Some Of The Frequenters Of The Sachem; And He And His Superiors Had To

Contend With A Well-Organized Gang.  News Of What Had Happened In The

Bluff Had Obviously Been Transmitted To The Settlement While He Had

Rested At Lansing's Homestead.  He Had, However, Made A Long Journey,

And As He Would Have To Ride On And Report The Matter To His Sergeant

In The Morning, He Went To Sleep.

The Next Day George Was Setting Out On A Visit To Grant When A Man Rode

Up And Asked For The Team.

"Flett Can't Get Over, But He Wants The Horses At The Post, So As To

Have Them Handy If He Finds Anybody Who Can Recognize Them," He

Explained.

That Sounded Plausible, But George Hesitated.  The Animals Would Be Of

Service As A Clue To Their Owner And A Proof Of His Complicity In The

Affair.  As They Had Not Been Identified, It Would Embarrass The Police

If They Were Missing.

"I Can Only Hand Them Over To A Constable, Unless You Have Brought A

Note From Flett," He Replied.

"Then, As I Haven't One, You'll Beat Me Out Of A Day's Pay, And Make

Flett Mighty Mad.  Do You Think He'd Get Anybody Who Might Know The

Team To Waste A Day Riding Out To Your Place?  Guess The Folks Round

Here Are Too Busy, And They'd Be Glad Of The Excuse That It Was So Far.

They Won't Want To Mix Themselves Up In This Thing."

George Could Find No Fault With This Reasoning, But He Thought The

Fellow Was A Little Too Eager To Secure The Horses.

"Well," He Said, "As I'm Going To Call On Mr. Grant, I'll See What He

Has To Say.  If I'm Not Back In Time, Mr. West Will Give You Supper."

"Then Grant's Standing In With You And The Temperance Folks?"

It Struck George That He Had Been Incautious, But He Could Not

Determine Whether The Man Had Blundered Or Not.  His Question Suggested

Some Knowledge Of The Situation, But An Accomplice Of The Offenders

Would, No Doubt, Have Heard Of The Part Grant's Hired Man Had Played.

"I Don't See How That Concerns You," He Replied.  "You'll Have To Wait

Until I Return If You Want The Team."

He Rode On, But He Had Not Gone Far When He Met Beamish, Of The Sachem.

"I Was Coming Over To See You," The Man Told Him.  "You Bought That

Young Hereford Bull Of Broughton's, Didn't You?"

George Was Surprised At The Question, But He Answered That He Had Done

So.

"Then Would You Sell Him?"

"I Hadn't Thought Of It."

"Guess That Means I'll Have To Tempt You," Beamish Said.  "I Want The

Beast."

He Named A Price That Struck George As Being In Excess Of The Animal's

Value; And Then Explained:

"I've Seen Him Once Or Twice Before He Fell Into Broughton's Hands; The

Imported Red Rover Strain Is Marked In Him, And A Friend Of Mine, Who's

Going In For Herefords, Told Me Not To Stick At A Few Dollars If I

Could Pick Up Such A Bull."

This Was Plausible, But Not Altogether Satisfactory, And George,

Reflecting That A Buyer Does Not Really Praise What He Means To

Purchase, Imagined That There Was Something Behind It.

"I'm Not Likely To Get A Better Bid," He Admitted.  "But I Must Ask If

The Transaction Would Be Complete?  Would You Expect Anything Further

From Me In Return?"

Beamish Regarded Him Keenly, With A Faint Smile.

"Well," He Said, "I Certainly Want The Bull, But You Seem To

Understand.  Leave It At That; I'm Offering To Treat You Pretty

Liberally."

"So As To Prevent My Assisting Flett In Any Way Or Taking A Part In

Hardie's Campaign?"

"I Wouldn't Consider It The Square Thing For You To Do," Beamish

Returned Quietly.

George Thought Of The Man Who Was Waiting At The Homestead For The

Team.  It Was Obvious That An Attempt Was Being Made To Buy Him, And He

Strongly Resented It.

"Then I Can Only Tell You That I Won't Make This Deal.  That's The End

Of The Matter."

Beamish Nodded And Started His Horse, But He Looked Back As He Rode Off.

"Well," He Called, In A Meaning Tone, "You May Be Sorry."

George Rode On To Grant's Homestead, And Finding Him At Work In The

Fallow, Told Him What Had Passed.

"I Fail To See Why They're So Eager To Get Hold Of Me," He Concluded.

Grant, Sitting In The Saddle Of The Big Plow, Thoughtfully Filled His

Pipe.

"Of Course," He Said, "It Wasn't A Coincidence That Beamish Came Over

Soon After The Fellow Turned Up For The Horses.  It Would Have Been

Worth While Buying The Bull If You Had Let Them Go--Especially As I