He remained silent for a space, in deep thought.
“Barney,” he said presently, “I’d like yore help in this business. Scotty Robbins ain’t o’ much account. He’s a poor cur, he is. But Big George’s some bad man. I’ve got his record from over th’ Line. He’s done two fives an’ a three-year term for horse-stealin’, an’ I know for a fact, too, that he’s a gun artist. He killed two men in a dirty mix-up at Los Barancedes, over in New Mexico, quite a while back. Th’ Rurales well-nigh put th’ kibosh on him, but somehow he beat ’em out. So, yu’ see,” he concluded with a whimsical smile, “it ain’t exactly a one-man job—at night, too. That is, if yu’re willin’?”
His request was met more than half-way.
“Eyah! that I will, Sargint,” the other answered bluntly and briefly. “I guess I know me duty as a law-abidin’ man should.” He had, in his brief acquaintance, formed a profound respect for the fearless man who sought his assistance.
“I know it’s not exactly a civilian’s end o’ th’ deal to get shoved into takin’ unnecessary risks,” Ellis went on. “If I had time I’d ride out to Buffalo Wallow an’ get Nicholson—he’s about due there, on patrol. But I haven’t ... an’ this lay’s supposed to come off tomorrow night. Besides, I wanta go an’ see Tucker. Pity old Boswell, th’ J.P.’s, gone East. I’d a got yu’ sworn in as a ‘special.’ So yu’ see how it is,” he ended simply.
“Eyah!” said Gallagher, with a grim heartiness; “don’t yu’ worry over nothin’ son. My name’s Barney Gallagher. I kin ‘trail me coat’ as good as me father or me grandfather ever did. Yu’ll find I’m right there with th’ goods.”
Ellis regarded the speaker’s hard-featured face with its twinkling Irish-blue eyes, and his angular, powerful frame.
“Yu’ just bet yu’ are, Barney,” he murmured thoughtfully. “Yu’ just bet yu’ are. See here; look! I’ll mosey on over to Tucker’s first thing in th’ mornin’; an’ I’ll find out, if I can—without tellin’ him nothin’—what he knows. Shorty’ll be safe enough locked up here while we’re away, an’ if we nail these other two we can take th’ whole bunch into Sabbano for their preliminary trial. I’ll be back mid-day, an’ towards evenin’ we’ll slide out.”
Their arrangements thus settled, Gallagher departed to his ranch, and Ellis proceeded to cook supper for himself and his prisoner. Later he fixed up the horses for the night and, on second thought, after examining Johnny’s hoof with a satisfied scrutiny, and leading him around a little, he wrenched off the remaining shoes and turned him loose in the pasture, where there was good feed and running water.
“Go to it, old boy,” he chuckled, amused at that animal’s antics as, delighted with his unwonted freedom, the horse, after a roll or two, sailed off with a joyous kick and squeal, his previous limp now hardly perceptible.