As if to make up for its silence of the blast when the two reached it late the night before, Eldara was going full that evening.  Kilrain went straight for Doc Young, to bring him later to join Nash at the house of Deputy Glendin.

The front of the deputy’s house was utterly dark, but Nash, unabashed, knocked loudly on the door, and went immediately to the rear of the place.  He was in time to see a light wink out at an upper window of the two-story shack.  He slipped back, chuckling, among the trees, and waited until the back door slammed and a dark figure ran noiselessly down the steps and out into the night.  Then he returned, still chuckling, to the front of the house, and banged again on the door.

A window above him raised at length and a drawling voice, apparently overcome with sleep, called down:  “What’s up in Eldara?”

Nash answered:  “Everything’s wrong.  Deputy Glendin, he sits up in a back room playin’ poker and hittin’ the redeye.  No wonder Eldara’s goin’ to hell!”

A muffled cursing rolled down to the cowpuncher, and then a sharp challenge:  “Who’s there?”

“Nash, you blockhead!”

“Nash!” cried a relieved voice, “come in; confound you.  I thought — no matter what I thought.  Come in!”

Nash opened the door and went up the stairs.  The deputy met him, clad in a bathrobe and carrying a lamp.  Under the bathrobe he was fully dressed.

“Thought your game was called, eh?” grinned the cattleman.

“Sure.  I had a tidy little thing in black-jack running and was pulling in the iron boys, one after another.  Why didn’t you tip me off?  You could have sat in with us.”

“Nope; I’m here on business.”

“Let’s have it.”

He led the way into a back room and placed the lamp on a table littered with cards and a black bottle looming in the centre.

“Drink?”

“Nope.  I said I came on business.”

“What kind?”

“Bard.”

“I thought so.”

“I want a posse.”

“What’s he done?”

“Killed Calamity Ben at Drew’s place, started a fire that near burned the house, and lifted Duffy’s hoss.”

Glendin whistled softly.

“Nice little start.”

“Sure, and it’s just a beginnin’ for this Bard.”

“I’ll go out to Drew’s place and see what he’s done.”

“And then start after him with a gang?”

“Sure.”

“By that time he’ll be a thousand miles away.”

“Well?”

“I’m running this little party.  Let me get a gang together.  You can swear ’em in and put me in charge.  I’ll guarantee to get him before morning.”

Glendin shook his head.

“It ain’t legal, Steve.  You know that.”

“The hell with legality.”

“That’s what you say; but I got to hold my job.”

“You’ll do your part by goin’ to Drew’s place with Doc Young.  He’ll be here with Shorty Kilrain in a minute.”

“And let you go after Bard?”

“Right.”

“Far’s I know, you may jest shoot him down and then come back and say you done it because he resisted arrest.”

“Well?”

“You admit that’s what you want, Steve?”

“Absolute.”

“Well, partner, it can’t be done.  That ain’t apprehendin’ a man.  It’s jest plain murder.”

“D’you think you could ever catch that bird alive?”

“Dunno, I’d try.”

“Never in a thousand years.”

“He don’t know the country.  He’ll travel in a circle and I’ll ride him down.”

“He’s got somebody with him that knows the country better’n you or me.”

“Who?”

The face of Nash twisted into an ugly grimace.

“Sally Fortune.”

“The hell!”

“It is; but it’s true.”

“It ain’t possible.  Sally ain’t the kind to make a fool of herself about any man, let alone a gun-fighter.”

“That’s what I thought, but I seen her back up this Bard ag’in’ a roomful of men.  And she’ll keep on backin’ him till he’s got his toes turned up.”

“That’s another reason for you to get Bard, eh?  Well, I can’t send you after him, Nash.  That’s final.”

“Not a bit.  I know too much about you, Glendin.”

The glance of the other raised slowly, fixed on Nash, and then lowered to the floor.  He produced papers and Durham, rolled and lighted his cigarette, and inhaled a long puff.

“So that’s the game, Steve?”

“I hate to do it.”

“Let that go.  You’ll run the limit on this?”

“Listen, Glendin.  I’ve got to get this Bard.  He’s out-ridden me, out-shot me, out-gamed me, out-lucked me, out-guessed me — and taken Sally.  He’s mine.  He b’longs all to me.  D’you see that?”

“I’m only seein’ one thing just now.”

“I know.  You think I’m double-crossin’ you.  Maybe I am, but I’m desperate, Glendin.”

“After all,” mused the deputy, “you’d be simply doin’ work I’d have to do later.  You’re right about this Bard.  He’ll never be taken alive.”

“Good ol’ Glendin.  I knew you’d see light.  I’ll go out and get the boys I want in ten minutes.  Wait here.  Shorty and Doc Young will come in a minute.  One thing more:  when you get to Drew’s place you’ll find him actin’ queer.”

“What about?”

“I dunno why.  It’s a bad mess.  You see, he’s after this Bard himself, the way I figure it, and he wants him left alone.  He’d raise hell if he knew a posse was after the tenderfoot.”

“Drew’s a bad one to get against me.”

“I know.  You think I’m double-crossin’?”

“I’ll do it.  But this squares all scores between us, Steve?”

“Right.  It leaves the debt on my side, and you know I’ve never dodged an I.O.U.  Drew may talk queer.  He’ll tell you that Bard done all that work in self-defence.”

“Did he?”

“The point is he killed a man and stole a hoss.  No matter what comes of it, he’s got to be arrested, don’t he?”

“And shot down while ‘resistin’ arrest’?  Steve, I’d hate to have you out for me like this.”

“But you won’t listen to Drew?”

“Not this one time.  But, Lord, man, I hate to face him if he’s on the warpath.  Who’ll you take with you?”

“Shorty, of course.  He was Calamity Ben’s pal.  The rest will be — don’t laugh — Butch Conklin and his gang.”

“Butch!”

“Hold yourself together.  That’s what I mean — Butch Conklin.”

“After you dropped him the other night?”

“Self-defence, and he knows it.  I can find Butch, and I can make him go with me.  Besides, he’s out for Bard himself.”

The deputy said with much meaning:  “You can do a lot of queer things, Nash.”

“Forget it, Glendin.”

“I will for a while.  D’you really think I can let you take out Butch and his gunmen ag’in’ Bard?  Why, they’re ten times worse’n the tenderfoot.”

“Maybe, but there’s nothin’ proved ag’in’ ’em — nothin’ but a bit of cattle-liftin’, maybe, and things like that.  The point is, they’re all hard men, and with ’em along I can’t help but get Bard.”

“Murder ain’t proved on Butch and his men, but it will be before long.”

“Wait till it’s proved.  In the meantime use em all.”

“You’ve a long head, Nash.”

“Glendin, I’m makin’ the biggest play of my life.  I’m off to find Butch.  You’ll stand firm with Drew?”

“I won’t hear a word he says.”

“S’long!  Be back in ten minutes.  Wait for me.”

He was as good as his word.  Even before the ten minutes had elapsed he was back, and behind followed a crew of heavy thumping boots up the stairs of Glendin’s house and into the room where he sat with Dr. Young and Shorty Kilrain.  They rose, but not from respect, when Nash entered with Conklin and his four ill-famed followers behind.

The soiled bandage on the head of Butch was far too thick to allow his hat to sit in its normal position.  It was perched high on top, and secured in place by a bit of string which passed from side to side under the chin.  Behind him came Lovel, an almost albino type with straw-coloured hair and eyes bleached and passionless; the vacuous smile was never gone from his lips.

More feared and more hated than Conklin himself was Isaacs.  The latter, always fastidious, wore a blue-striped vest, without a coat to obscure it, and about his throat was knotted a flaming vermilion necktie, fastened in place with a diamond stickpin — obviously the spoil of some recent robbery.  Glendin, watching, ground his teeth.

McNamara followed.  He had been a squatter, but his family had died of a fever, and McNamara’s mind had been unsettled ever since; whisky had finished the work of sending him on the downward path with Conklin’s little crew of desperadoes.  Men shrank from facing those too-bright, wandering eyes, yet it was from pity almost as much as horror.

Finally came Ufert.  He was merely a round-faced boy of nineteen, proud of the distinguished bad company he kept.  He was that weak-minded type which is only strong when it becomes wholly evil.  With a different leadership he would have become simply a tobacco-chewing hanger-on at cross-roads saloons and general merchandise stores.  As it was, feeling dignified by the brotherhood of crime into which he had been admitted as a full member, and eager to prove his qualifications, he was as dangerous as any member of the crew.

The three men who were already in the room had been prepared by Glendin for this new arrival, but the fact was almost too much for their credence.  Consequently they rose, and Dr. Young muttered at the ear of Glendin:  “Is it possible, Deputy Glendin, that you’re going to use these fellows?”

“A thief to catch a thief,” whispered Glendin in reply.

He said aloud:  “Butch, I’ve been looking for you for a long time, but I really never expected to see you quite as close as this.”

“You’ve said it,” grinned Butch, “I ain’t been watchin’ for you real close, but now that I see you, you look more or less like a man should look.  H’ware ye, Glendin?”

He held out his hand, but the deputy, shifting his position, seemed to overlook the grimy proffered palm.

“You fellows know that you’re wanted by the law,” he said, frowning on them.

A grim meaning rose in the vacuous eye of Lovel; Isaacs caressed his diamond pin, smiling in a sickly fashion; McNamara’s wandering stare fixed and grew unhumanly bright; Ufert openly dropped his hand on his gun-butt and stood sullenly defiant.

“You know that you’re wanted, and you know why,” went on Glendin, “but I’ve decided to give you a chance to prove that you’re white men and useful citizens.  Nash has already told you what we want.  It’s work for seven men against one, but that one man is apt to give you all plenty to do.  If you are — successful” — he stammered a little over the right word — “what you have done in the past will be forgotten.  Hold up your right hands and repeat after me.”

And they repeated the oath after him in a broken, drawling chorus, stumbling over the formal, legal phraseology.

He ended, and then:  “Nash, you’re in charge of the gang.  Do what you want to with them, and remember that you’re to get Bard back in town unharmed — if possible.”

Butch Conklin smiled, and the same smile spread grimly from face to face among the gang.  Evidently this point had already been elucidated to them by Nash, who now mustered them out of the house and assembled them on their horses in the street below.

“Which way do we travel?” asked Shorty Kilrain, reining close beside the leader, as though he were anxious to disestablish any relationship with the rest of the party.

“Two ways,” answered Nash.  “Of course I don’t know what way Bard headed, because he’s got the girl with him, but I figure it this way:  if a tenderfoot knows any part of the range at all, he’ll go in that direction after he’s in trouble.  I’ve seen it work out before.  So I think that Bard may have ridden straight for the old Drew place on the other side of the range.  I know a short cut over the hills; we can reach there by morning.  Kilrain, you’ll go there with me.

“It may be that Bard will go near the old place, but not right to it.  Chances may be good that he’ll put up at some place near the old ranchhouse, but not right on the spot.  Jerry Wood, he’s got a house about tour or five miles to the north of Drew’s old ranch.  Butch, you take your men and ride for Wood’s place.  Then switch south and ride for Partridge’s store; if we miss him at Drew’s old house we’ll go on and join you at Partridge’s store and then double back.  He’ll be somewhere inside that circle and Eldara, you can lay to that.  Now, boys, are your hosses fresh?”

They were.

“Then ride, and don’t spare the spurs.  Hoss flesh is cheaper’n your own hides.”

The cavalcade separated and galloped in two directions through the town of Eldara.