CROWLEY
In the living-room of the Ross ranch were congregated almost the entire outfit. Around the centre-table a game of cards was in progress, and the fortunes of the game had reduced the number engaged in it to four. Some six or seven of the other men either looked on or were sprawled about the place in various stages of intoxication; and the number of empty bottles that littered the place gave evidence that it had been quite a long session.
Ross was at the table, and the big stack of chips in front of him indicated that he was the big winner. His shirt was open half way down to his waist and his broad, hairy chest was exposed. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and if anything, his hair and beard were more unkempt than usual, which is saying a good deal. Altogether, with his bloated face and bleary eyes, he did not make a very pleasant picture.
Crowley, his foreman, the tall man whom Jordan had recognized as the "jail-bird" that he had delivered at San Quentin, sat opposite to Ross, and he, too, had considerable money in front of him. The other two men in the game were about "down to the cloth," and were just "hanging on the ragged edge of nothing." As Pedro entered the room with the bottles, Crowley raked in a sizable pot, getting a call from one of the losers.
"Jes' like takin' candy from children," sneered Crowley, as he looked at the two contemptuously. "Yo' pikers is 'bout six ounces lighter'n a straw hat! Where 'd yo' all learn this game, anyway?"
"I guess the school I learnt at," said one of the men, significantly, "was some short o' knowin' some o' the sleight-o-hand work I done seen yo' pull! Dealin' seconds wasn't on the bill-o'-fare!"
For an answer, Crowley grabbed a bottle and was about to caress the man with it when Ross reached over and seized his arm in a powerful grip.
"Cut it out!" shouted Ross; "I'm short-handed now, an' besides I don't want to hev to explain no more disappearances!"
"Let the big stiff throw it, Ross! I'll give him a receipt fer it—I got an ace in the hole myself this time," and he fingered the butt of his revolver.
Whether the affair would have stopped there or not is a question, had not Pedro entered with the bottles; but, at any rate, the two belligerents subsided, and confined themselves to growls and evil glances at each other. In a few moments the game seemed about to break up—and Ross had accumulated most of the money; and what he did not win fell to the lot of Crowley, the foreman. One way to run a ranch is to pay off the men and then win the money back at stud-poker!
Ross rose from the table, after he had cashed in the checks of the foreman and had pocketed his own winnings. As he stood up, his eyes caught sight of Injun's pinto cropping the grass in the yard of the ranch near to the river bank. Ross stared intently at the horse, and several of the men followed his glance.
"What hoss is that out there? Who let him out 'n the corral? Some o' yo' rum-hounds go git him an' put him back. Don't seem to me I recconnize that skate nohow."
One of the men rose and went out to the pinto, and after some trouble succeeded in catching him. The man examined the horse, and then started toward the ranch-house with him. The man's manner indicated that something was amiss, and Ross and Crowley went out to meet him.
"This here ain't none of our hoss," said the man, looking at the animal critically. "Looks to me like the one I seen that little red skunk ridin' with thet there Sherwood kid. 'Spose them young hellions bin snoopin' 'bout here?"
Ross uttered an oath, and Crowley examined the horse: "The' ain't no doubt in th' world thet's thet little red devil's hoss. But I don't figger no cause t' git excited. He goes meanderin' 'round most any place, though I never knowed him to stick his nose in 'round here before. The' ain't no chanct of his gittin' into the ranch-house—not in a thousand years; an' if he's 'round here, he's got a hell of a walk back to where he belongs! Hey! You!" he called to the men in the ranch-house; and they came out slowly and indifferently; "take a look 'round an' see if yo' kin find hide er hair o' thet little red varmint. Thet's his hoss, an' he can't be far off. When yo' git him, bring him to me—I'll make a 'good Injun' out'n him!"
Several of the men went to the corral, and mounting their horses, rode around the ranch property in different directions. Ross turned to Crowley:
"You may not think there's any cause to git excited, but I do! Jes' now'd be an awkward time fer people t' come investigatin' 'round here. We got t' git them steers branded and out o' this pronto. It's got to be done to-night! Take some o' the boys an' go down an' git busy. I'll be down in a minute. This ought 'a' bin done before!"
Ross and his foreman turned and entered the house; and the foreman, designating several of the hands to follow him, started for the stairs that led to the cave below.