Scott Burton on the Range

by Edward G. Cheyney

“Sounds interesting,” Baxter grumbled. “Well, it can’t be any worse than watching this line. I’ll go get some blankets and hike down there.”

“I certainly shall appreciate your help,” Scott said. He knew that it was not the kind of a job that Baxter would most like but he felt confident that he would do it.

“Oh well,” Baxter replied cheerfully, “I’m just as anxious to see Jed Clark cleaned up as you are and I’m glad enough to do anything to help. I only hope they try to take them out of there. There might be some excitement then. I’ll see you to-morrow when you come down to prove up. Luck to you on your mission to-night.”

“Thanks, wish you could be there.”

There was nothing to do now but to hurry back to the cabin and see if he could intercept that telephone message. It did not seem to be essential to his case to know what happened at that meeting. As Baxter had said Dawson must have approved Heth’s appointment and it would be easy enough to prove that he knew who Heth really was. Nevertheless, Scott wanted to sift the thing to the bottom now that he had started on it and he felt that his own success in the service would depend on cleaning up the whole situation. He was getting a little nervous. Dugan had said that Dawson would call in the evening but that was a vague term, and he might be too late to catch the message. It was never any trouble to get speed out of Jed. He loosened the rein a little and the big horse fairly flew. He seemed to delight in those wild runs over the mountain trails.

Scott knew that sounds traveled far in the stillness of those mountain forests, and he thought it best to approach the cabin cautiously. He pulled Jed down to a walk long before he reached the cut off to the cabin and turned down through the woods instead of following the stony trail.

It was still light enough to see. When he came within sight of the cabin he stopped and watched for some time. There was no sign of life. He rode quietly up to the cabin door and pushed it open. There was no one there. He hurriedly put Jed in the corral, ran up to the cabin and cautiously took down the receiver of the telephone. All was quiet. He hung up the receiver and started to get some supper. He was beginning to realize that he had not had anything to eat since breakfast.

He had not relished this detective business at the first, but he was beginning to like it now, and his wits were alert to every move that the enemy might make. A new thought occurred to him. It was a dangerous thing for a ranger to make a secret date with a crooked stock man over the telephone, especially over a party line. If these two were as thick with each other as he suspected, would they not have some way of talking over the ’phone without ringing up? A set time or something of that kind?

It was only a hunch, but it took such a strong hold on Scott that he abandoned his supper preparations, grabbed some biscuits and sat down at the ’phone. Cautiously he took down the receiver once more. All was still, but with a look of grim determination he held the receiver to his ear with one hand while he handled the biscuits with the other.

It was a long chance he was taking but he felt it was the only safe way and he hung on. The ’phone rang once or twice and he listened to several long conversations between the ranger’s wife and the wife of the man at the lookout station and with a woman somewhere in the town. They seldom had a chance to see their neighbors and these long telephone conversations took the place of personal calls. Scott learned more about the ills of children and the multiplicity of petty troubles that worry a house-wife than he had ever dreamed of. It seemed to him that those conversations would be endless.