“Sure. Git up, boy, and beat it. You can tell the others that Cervantes is my meat—quick meat, likewise. You and Slim and Doggy light out of here to-morrow, and if you miss bringin’ in Jake Harper, I’ll skin the three of you one-handed! Git!”
Sandy Davitt departed hurriedly.
“I see,” observed Murphy, shifting the cigar in his mouth, “I see you ain’t backward when it comes to action, Buck. What’s the program?”
“You ride over to the Lazy S in the morning,” Buck ordered, who was indeed suddenly displaying a new and alert manner. “Pull the mortgage stuff on Estella, polite but firm, savvy? I know about where Cervantes will be. When I’m done with him I’ll drop along to the house and fire you off the premises. Now set still till I get a drink.”
Buck departed. Murphy glanced after him, then lighted his cigar thoughtfully.
“Humph!” he growled. “I’ve heard biggity talk ’fore this, Mister Buck! If I knows you, which I’d ought to, you ain’t ridin’ up to that greaser and pullin’ no gun on him—no, sir! If you git him, it’ll be ’cause he ain’t armed, maybe. Well, let her ride! All I want is to git another chance at that smart Aleck, Robinson, who recognized me for Pincher Brady, cuss him! He’s run up a big day’s score, and I aim to pay him. By Godfrey, I’d come close to givin’ him an even break, I would!”
With this admirable sentiment, Mr. Murphy inspected his right hand, whose back was crossed by a big piece of sticking-plaster. He was not really injured—the bullet had only scraped his hand slightly. His black scowl was perhaps induced by memory of the fate which had overtaken Matt Brady that same day.
Buck was uneasy, and remained uneasy. He had gone to great lengths to stage his final play for the Shumway girl and ranch, and saw himself verging on disaster. It was all due to that fool Robinson. He had met Murphy and had drawn him into Mike’s place for conference. He had taken the snoring stranger for granted—and the stranger had wakened in sudden nightmare, according to the story told by Mike and by Murphy. What did it mean? Had Robinson overheard much of the talk? How had he chanced to recognize Murphy as Pincher Brady?—
The fellow had not gone to Laredo at all, but to Jake Harper’s. That was suspicious. Where had Robinson come from? The south, beyond a doubt; but Buck was unable to discover anything about the man. Being thus uneasy, Buck issued stringent orders to his men, and regarded Robinson’s fate as settled.
Upon the following morning, Mr. Murphy mounted and rode away from the Running Dog by his lonely. A little later Buck and two of his riders departed in company. Later still Sandy Davitt, Slim, and Doggy rode away together. The day was clear, brilliant, fairly warm.