pilgrim. He knew that fight was all rigged. And he'll step around like a cat. I don't fancy having that lean, long drink of water on my trail. He's soft talking but he's got hazel eyes. And I never met a hazel-eyed man yet that wasn't a blazing killer when he went on a rampage. I'm telling you, the cards have got to be played right from this time on. No more fooling. We made enough mistakes to hang."
"Ain't my fault," growled Studd. "We'd of got Nickum this day if we'd been let alone. He's just as wise as Charterhouse. They both know plenty. And Nickum's got to fall before he spreads his information at large."
"Talk, talk," broke in another. This was Wolfert, words breaking nervously. "All we do is talk about things we had ought to do or things we tried to do and boggled. I'm beginning to think we're sunk."
"Oh, shut up. You've had the willies ever since Nickum's kid took your slug—"
"Stop that! Want to advertise to the whole cursed county who got him?"
"Studd."
"Yeah, Shander?"
"I want you to get hold of the influential Mexican men. That's easy for you, considering you've played their political game all these years. Tell them to pass on the word to all their friends and dependents to watch for Box M riders by day or night, and send word to you. Get the grapevine system working. Nickum plays this game as well as we do and it'd be like him to storm down and wipe somebody off the map. Tell the Mexicans to keep watch."
"You bet Nickum plays the same kind of poker," put in Wolfert. "Ever stop to think that it's as easy for one of us to get ambushed as for them?"
"This is war, Wolfert. If you're afraid, crawl out."
"And get shot in the back for crawling?" said Wolfert bitterly. "I know where I stand."
"Glad you do," muttered Studd. "I been wondering about that. But we ain't made any reasonable plans yet about Charterhouse and Nickum. I'm repeating—they got to go soon. You dally this thing along, Shander, and we'll be licked before we start."
"Curly, I've got a job for you," Shander said, ignoring Studd's comment.
A rather thin, uneven voice joined in. "Yeah, I been waiting for something to do. My outfit's awful tired of Dead Man Range."
"Take three of your best shots and coolest heads, better pick old-timers in your bunch. Put one up in the timber by the Bowlus place. Another between Box M and Fort Carson. Have the third get as close to Box M on the north as he can possibly find concealment. And they are to stick it out until they get a bullet into either Nickum or Charterhouse. Meanwhile, I think we'll rig up a bigger bit of fun. Keep your men collected, Curly, and wait for a signal from me. If I locate a part of Nickum's men starting off to look for beef, I'll get word to you. The rest is your business. One way or another we'll whipsaw Nickum into proper shape to hit him. That's definite enough. The biggest thing is to hang back and wait for the breaks. But I want this prairie patrolled at night; and I want Box M watched by day. It will only be a matter of forty-eight hours before something drops."
"Don't sound active enough to me," observed Studd.
"No? What more do you want? We've got our men posted at four different places. We've got a system to get information to us. Once we get information, we can collect our strength and throw it anywhere within three hours' riding. Here's something else. Camp a man at Fort Carson, Curly. And another five miles nearer Box M. Everybody get that. If there's word to be relayed to any of us, these fellows pass it on. I guess we've got this organized now. Somebody's posted conveniently all around Box M. They can't move without our seeing it. And what we can't learn from the outside, I think we'll learn from inside sources."
"Speaking of which, Shander," broke in Wolfert, "It seems to me your trusting—"
"Mention no names, Wolfert. I know what I'm doing. The man you speak about is all right. He's in a damned dangerous position and he's got to go slow."
"We'll have to show results in forty-eight hours or fold up," insisted Studd.
"We will. Remember the shot signals. Be sure all your riders know them, and know how to answer them. Finally, if it comes to a matter of a pitched battle, I want everybody to be on their toes so that each outfit can be ready to move on a minute's notice. That's why I want all the scouts posted. If Nickum should elect to move out with his whole bunch and start destroying, we have all got to be in shape to come down on top of him. That means every man has got to be within easy two or three hours' ride from any place around here. That's all. Get off and keep your mouths shut."
"I wish I was sure—" began Wolfert, and was suppressed by a rough retort.
"Nobody's sure of anything till he's dead. Some of us may be dead by next sundown. Nobody knows. But I'm telling you all that this spread is the biggest prize in the west, once we lay hands on it. Make rich men of all of us. Because with Nickum gone the power in the county goes to us, and we take all the offices, levy toll on every other big rancher, and in general we will be in shape to have anything worth having in Casabella. Any objections to that?"
A sardonic answer emerged from a more distant part of the circle. "Sounds fine, providing some of us don't try to hog the prize entire. Such things happen."
"Wait till that time comes. Hang together or hang separate. We're in too deep to start quarreling now."
"Thieves always quarrel," said the sardonic one. "We will, too, when we get our fingers in the pie. But what of it? If we wasn't raising one kind of hell and deceit, we'd be doing it in another way. Casabella politics. Nobody's ever satisfied with nothing. We never get our belly full of scrapping and we never get enough plunder. Well, it don't matter. Let's go."
The ring dissolved and riders hurried off in different directions. Silence fell; the whispered treacheries of human kind faded into the great, ageless mystery of the shadow-cloaked earth and the dim, frosted stars looked down indifferently.
––––––––
VI
OLD JOHN NICKUM, bearing in mind the recent attacks made on him, took a wide swing over the desert with Clint Charterhouse to inspect a bunch of his cattle in the northwest; having done that, he discovered fresh hoof-prints along the trail and these he followed until they petered out in the hardpan bottom of an arroyo, driving east toward Dead Man's Range. Therefore, it was not until near dusk that Charterhouse got his first sight of Box M home quarters. The first landmark was a high windmill tower standing up between rows of trees; successively the party flanked corral wings, an ice house, several sodded storerooms, an enormous shed for haying implements and wagons, a still more enormous barn, three long bunkhouses built like boxcars, and finally the main house which was constructed in a fashion common to the southern cattle country.
One rambling wing was divided into rooms, each room letting out separately upon a covered porch running the whole length of the place. Lights gleamed pleasantly through an open door, and the fragrance of lilacs hung over the yard. Seastrom and Haggerty turned off and Charterhouse was about to follow them when Nickum interrupted. "You'll be one of the boys soon enough. Consider yourself a guest tonight." A queer, shrunken figure ambled up and took their horses as they dismounted and went up the porch. Nickum led Charterhouse along to a farther door, opened it and stepped through to light a lamp.
"Your room until
