The Sunset Trail Part 37

"It'll be with Jim as it was with Ed," sighed Mr. Masterson. "I'll come too late."

What increased the depression of Mr. Masterson was the raw newness and the youth of Jim. The threatened one was gifted, too, with the recklessness that had betrayed Marshal Ed. This, with his inexperience, only made him the surer victim.

As against this there would arise to Mr. Masterson the hopeless thought of Mr. Updegraffe-as coldly game as any who ever spread his blankets in Dodge! There was none more formidable! Cautious, resolute, without fear as without scruple, it called for the best name on the list when one talked of matching Mr. Updegraffe!

Mr. Peac.o.c.k was not so dangerous. Still, even he might be expected to shoot an enemy who was looking the other way and thinking on something else. At the least he made a second gun to add to Mr. Updegraffe's, and with that invincible one for a side partner and only a boy to face, Mr.

Peac.o.c.k must be counted. These were the sorrowful reflections of Mr.

Masterson when the conductor pa.s.sed through, crying:

"Dodge the next stop! Twenty minutes for lunch!"

Whether it were the work of the mysterious "A" who summoned Mr.

Masterson, or of some one other than that concealed individual, word had been furnished to Mr. Peac.o.c.k and Mr. Updegraffe of Mr. Masterson's coming. There the pair stood waiting in the center of the gra.s.s-green plaza of the town.

Mr. Masterson saw them as he stepped from the train; he never saw any one else. This genius for concentration is a mark of the born gun-player. Mr. Masterson did not parley. His brother had been slain, and here before him were his destroyers. He could feel the revenge-hunger seize him! Making straight for the waiting ones he called:

"You murderers might better begin to fight right now!"

Mr. Updegraffe, with all the coolness of ice, fired point-blank at Mr.

Masterson. The shot was two inches wide, and buried itself in a Pullman.

At this, certain tourists who had filled the windows with their eager faces, crept beneath the seats.

Mr. Masterson, ignoring Mr. Peac.o.c.k and honouring Mr. Updegraffe as the element perilous, opened on the latter. The bullet drove before it a piece of rib, and sent the splinter of bone through Mr. Updegraffe's lungs. The death-blindness upon him, and never a notion of what he was about, he slowly walked a pace or two, and fell dead.

As Mr. Updegraffe went down, Mr. Peac.o.c.k, who had not fired a shot, took refuge behind a little building that stood in the plaza and was both calaboose and Court House. This discreet disposition of himself by Mr.

Peac.o.c.k was doubtless allowable. None the less it smelled of an unspeakable meanness, impossible to any Bayard of the guns. Thus to take cover is the caste-mark of a mongrel.

So contemptible did this move for safety seem to Mr. Masterson that he would have walked away, leaving Mr. Peac.o.c.k to enjoy his ign.o.ble security. Mr. Peac.o.c.k, however, inched his desperate nose around the corner and fired on Mr. Masterson. The bullet broke a third-story window one hundred yards away.

Mr. Masterson's rancorous interest was rearoused in Mr. Peac.o.c.k by these tactics. When that gentleman again protruded his nose, Mr. Masterson shot twice at that feature like the ticking of a clock. The lead guttered the side of the building within an inch of the target. Mr.

Masterson charged Mr. Peac.o.c.k, who thereupon took to his heels, and escaped into Gallon's, which hostelry lay open in his rear.

Mr. Masterson would have followed, but it was here that Mr. Webster, all a-tremble, ran up with a shotgun. At this Mr. Masterson's eyes s.h.i.+fted viciously to Mr. Webster. That the latter was shaking as with an ague did not lessen Mr. Masterson's interest in him. Mr. Webster saw that he had attracted the whole of Mr. Masterson's attention, and was in no wise rea.s.sured.

"What are you going to do with that shotgun, Web?" asked Mr. Masterson, tones low and steady but with a deadly focus on Mr. Webster.

"Well," stammered Mr. Webster, "I'm Mayor, Bat, an' this shootin' 's got to stop."

"I've been reckoned a judge," returned Mr. Masterson, coming closer to Mr. Webster, watching him the while with constant and forbidding eye; "I've been reckoned a judge, and I should say it had stopped unless you begin it again."

"I shan't begin it!" hastily a.s.serted Mr. Webster.

"Then let me hold your shotgun," returned Mr. Masterson, voice iron and syrup. "It doesn't become your office."

And Mr. Webster gave Mr. Masterson his gun.

What Mr. Masterson next beheld was as though he saw a ghost. There across the plaza came Jim. Mr. Masterson stared.

"Aren't you dead?" he whispered. "Dead?" echoed Jim, in wide surprise.

"I was asleep over in the Wright House until your guns woke me up!"

Mr. Masterson never understood; Jim never understood; Dodge never understood! Not a soul came forward as the "A" of that message; and the telegraph man said he didn't know!

And yet it was sure that Mr. Updegraffe and Mr. Peac.o.c.k were in battle array, awaiting Mr. Masterson. Mr. Peac.o.c.k being guaranteed a peace, came out of Gallon's and admitted this. He, too, displayed a message signed "A." The Peac.o.c.k message was from Tucson. It ran:

"Masterson has just left for Dodge to kill you and Updegraffe.

-A."

The cloud was never lifted. The queries of "Who sent them?" and "Why?"

remain to this hour unanswered.

While the puzzle was fresh, and Mr. Peac.o.c.k's message was going from hand to hand, together with the one received by Mr. Masterson, the latter-all vigilance and caution-turned to Jim.

"Get your blankets," was his low command. "The train will be here in an hour, and we're going West."

"We'll have to put you under arrest!" faltered Mr. Webster.

An ominous shadow settled about Mr. Masterson's mouth. He opened Mr.

Webster's shotgun with militant prudence; there were two sh.e.l.ls in it.

Without a word he reloaded the empty chambers of his six-shooter. Being organised, he looked at Mr. Webster and shook his head.

"I must take the next train West," he said. "I haven't time to-day to be arrested."

"Only for voylatin' an ordinance!" whiningly explained Mr. Webster, who must do something for his honour. "Dodge has become a city since you was here, Bat, an' the fact is we ought to fine you five dollars for shootin' inside th' limits. As for Updegraffe: onder th' circ.u.mstances no one thinks of blamin' you for downin' him."

"City!" mused Mr. Masterson. "Five dollars! If you'll consider court as held and the fine imposed, I'll yield to these metropolitan exactions,"

and Mr. Masterson snapped a gold-piece towards Mr. Webster. "And now,"

concluded Mr. Masterson, pleasantly, tossing the shotgun into the hollow of his arm, "since I see but few familiar faces, Web, I want you to stay close by my side till I leave."

"Why, sh.o.r.ely!" murmured Mr. Webster, whom the suggestion discouraged.

When the train drew in, Mr. Masterson saw Jim aboard. Taking the sh.e.l.ls from the shotgun, he returned the weapon to Mr. Webster.

"They'd be a temptation to you, Web," said Mr. Masterson, referring to the sh.e.l.ls, "and only get you into trouble. Like many another, you're safest with an empty gun. Adios!"

"Adios!" repeated Mr. Webster, and he watched the train until it died out of sight in the West.