tried to get up again, Johnny knocked him down again.
His face bloody, Lamson stayed down.
"Awright, kid. You whupped me."
Johnny backed off and then walked away. Mary Jane was nowhere in sight. Disappointed, he looked around again. Across the room he saw Gavin and his niece. Betty was looking at him, and she was smiling. He started toward them when something nudged his ribs and a cool voice said, "All right, kid, let's go outside an" talk."
"But I-was "Right now. An' don't get any fancy ideas.
You wouldn't be the first man I killed." The man with the gun in his back was Hoyt, the gun held so it could not be seen. They walked from the hall, and Betty looked after them, bewildered.
The fat rustler was waiting. He had Johnny's horse and theirs. Johnny moved toward his horse, remembering the pistol he had thrust into the saddlebag and the rifle in the scab- bard. He reached for the pommel and a gun barrel came down over his skull. He started to fall, caught a second glancing blow, and dropped into a swirling darkness.
The lurching of the horse over the stones of the creek brought him to consciousness. The feel under his leg told him the rifle was gone. His ankles were tied, and his wrists. Was the pistol still in the saddlebag?
Pain racked his skull, and some time later he passed out again, coming out of it only when they took him off his horse and shoved him against the cabin wall.
He was in a long grassy valley, ringed with malpais, but a valley of thousands of acres.
A third man came from the cabin. Johnny remembered him as cook for one of the roundup outfits, named Freck. "Grub's on," Freck said, nodding briefly at Johnny.
They ate in silence. Hoyt watched Johnny without making a point of it. Freck and the fat man ate noisily. "You tell anybody about this place?"
Hoyt demanded.
"Maybe," Johnny said. "I might have."
"Horse comin'," Hoyt said suddenly. "See who it is, Calkins."
Johnny stiffened. Calkins ... Mary Jane's father. Something died within him. He stared at his food, appetite gone. It had been Mary Jane, then, who told the rustlers he had found the cattle and the hideout. No wonder she had been curious. No wonder they had rushed him out before he could talk to Gavin.
Calkins stood in the door with a Winchester. Turning his head, he said, "It's the boss."
A hard, familiar voice called, then footsteps. Johnny saw Dan Lasker step into the door. Lasker's smile was bleak.
"Hello, Johnny. It ain't good to see you."
"Never figured you for a rustler."
"Man can't get rich at forty a month, Johnny." He squatted on his heels against the wall. "We need another man." Lasker lit a smoke. He seemed worried. "You're here, kid."
It was a way out and there would be no other. And Lasker wanted him to take it. Actually speaking, there was no choice.
"Are you jokin'?" Johnny's voice was sarcastic. "Only thing I can't figure is why you didn't let me in on it from the start."
And he lied quietly: "I was figurin' to moonlight a few cows myself, only I couldn't find a way out of the country."
Lasker was pleased. "Good boy, Johnny. As for a way out, we've got it."
Hoyt shoved back from the table. "All I can say is, one wrong move outa this kid, an' I'll handle it my own way!"
"All right, Hoyt." Lasker measured him coolly. "But be double-damned sure you're right."
They had over four hundred stolen cattle and were ready for a drive. But they did not return Johnny's guns. Nor did he make as much as a move toward his saddlebags.
Calkins came in midway of the following afternoon. He was puffing and excited. "Rider comin'.
An' it's that young niece of Gavin's!"
Hoyt got up swiftly. "Dan, I don't like it!"
Freck walked to the door and waited there, watching her come. "What difference does it make? She's here, an' she ain't goin' back. Nobody ever found this place, and it's not likely they have now."
"What I want to know," Hoyt said bitterly, "is how she found it."
"Probably followed the kid." Lasker was uneasy and
His face bloody, Lamson stayed down.
"Awright, kid. You whupped me."
Johnny backed off and then walked away. Mary Jane was nowhere in sight. Disappointed, he looked around again. Across the room he saw Gavin and his niece. Betty was looking at him, and she was smiling. He started toward them when something nudged his ribs and a cool voice said, "All right, kid, let's go outside an" talk."
"But I-was "Right now. An' don't get any fancy ideas.
You wouldn't be the first man I killed." The man with the gun in his back was Hoyt, the gun held so it could not be seen. They walked from the hall, and Betty looked after them, bewildered.
The fat rustler was waiting. He had Johnny's horse and theirs. Johnny moved toward his horse, remembering the pistol he had thrust into the saddlebag and the rifle in the scab- bard. He reached for the pommel and a gun barrel came down over his skull. He started to fall, caught a second glancing blow, and dropped into a swirling darkness.
The lurching of the horse over the stones of the creek brought him to consciousness. The feel under his leg told him the rifle was gone. His ankles were tied, and his wrists. Was the pistol still in the saddlebag?
Pain racked his skull, and some time later he passed out again, coming out of it only when they took him off his horse and shoved him against the cabin wall.
He was in a long grassy valley, ringed with malpais, but a valley of thousands of acres.
A third man came from the cabin. Johnny remembered him as cook for one of the roundup outfits, named Freck. "Grub's on," Freck said, nodding briefly at Johnny.
They ate in silence. Hoyt watched Johnny without making a point of it. Freck and the fat man ate noisily. "You tell anybody about this place?"
Hoyt demanded.
"Maybe," Johnny said. "I might have."
"Horse comin'," Hoyt said suddenly. "See who it is, Calkins."
Johnny stiffened. Calkins ... Mary Jane's father. Something died within him. He stared at his food, appetite gone. It had been Mary Jane, then, who told the rustlers he had found the cattle and the hideout. No wonder she had been curious. No wonder they had rushed him out before he could talk to Gavin.
Calkins stood in the door with a Winchester. Turning his head, he said, "It's the boss."
A hard, familiar voice called, then footsteps. Johnny saw Dan Lasker step into the door. Lasker's smile was bleak.
"Hello, Johnny. It ain't good to see you."
"Never figured you for a rustler."
"Man can't get rich at forty a month, Johnny." He squatted on his heels against the wall. "We need another man." Lasker lit a smoke. He seemed worried. "You're here, kid."
It was a way out and there would be no other. And Lasker wanted him to take it. Actually speaking, there was no choice.
"Are you jokin'?" Johnny's voice was sarcastic. "Only thing I can't figure is why you didn't let me in on it from the start."
And he lied quietly: "I was figurin' to moonlight a few cows myself, only I couldn't find a way out of the country."
Lasker was pleased. "Good boy, Johnny. As for a way out, we've got it."
Hoyt shoved back from the table. "All I can say is, one wrong move outa this kid, an' I'll handle it my own way!"
"All right, Hoyt." Lasker measured him coolly. "But be double-damned sure you're right."
They had over four hundred stolen cattle and were ready for a drive. But they did not return Johnny's guns. Nor did he make as much as a move toward his saddlebags.
Calkins came in midway of the following afternoon. He was puffing and excited. "Rider comin'.
An' it's that young niece of Gavin's!"
Hoyt got up swiftly. "Dan, I don't like it!"
Freck walked to the door and waited there, watching her come. "What difference does it make? She's here, an' she ain't goin' back. Nobody ever found this place, and it's not likely they have now."
"What I want to know," Hoyt said bitterly, "is how she found it."
"Probably followed the kid." Lasker was uneasy and
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