CHAPTER X
THE HORSE THIEF
Loudon, who had taken no part in the feathering, watched the departure of the sheriff with brooding eyes. He did not agree with Scotty Mackenzie and the citizens of the Bend. In his estimation the punishment had not been sufficiently drastic. Alive and in possession of all his faculties the sheriff was a great power for evil. He would seek revenge.
Loudon swore softly. He was far from being a bloodthirsty man, but he regarded the killing of Block as a duty. And he did not believe in putting off till some future date what could be accomplished to-day.
"It's quite a list," he said to himself. "Block, Rufe Cutting, Blakely, an' the whole 88 outfit. An' they won't be happy till they get me. It kind o' looks as if Blakely ain't expectin' to keep our little engagement in Farewell. Block wouldn't 'a' come up here without Blakely sent him."
Thoughts of Blakely quite naturally induced thoughts of Pete O'Leary. Where was O'Leary? Loudon recollected that he had not seen O'Leary in the crowd. He looked up and down the street. O'Leary was nowhere in sight. His absence was a small thing in itself, but it might signify a guilty conscience. Loudon wondered.
That disreputable person, Scotty Mackenzie, approached, leading his horse.
"Tom," said Scotty, his blue eyes twinkling, "don't look so downhearted. He wasn't worth shootin'."
"I dunno, Scotty," replied Loudon. "It'll come to it some day, or I miss my guess."