Breedlove nodded. "Uhuh. Tom might, too, if he wa'n't such a dog-goned ser'ous nature. Y' see, he's all fight."
"So I can see. Well, where you bound for now?'"
"I'm goin' to rake Pilgrim Valley with a fine comb," said Tom Lilly.
"It's plumb empty," replied the sheriff. "Turn your attention to the 3Cross. You'll find something interesting there."
"Well, by the Lord Harry," exploded Tom, "if you know that much, why haven't you collected a posse and gone after 'em?"
"Because I couldn't find ten men I could trust. Somebody'd squeal and when I got to the rancho I wouldn't find a thing."
"Well, we'll surprise 'em this time," said Tom. "You better come along."
"Nope," objected the sheriff. "There might be some violence done and I'd have to take official cognizance of it. What I don't see I don't know. Just tie me tighter in this chair an' shove me in the corner. Then turn out the light, lock the door and be on your way. Good luck."
Joe Breedlove, chuckling, stepped forward to do as the sheriff asked. The two exchanged glances, they understood each other quite well, for they were of the same type. "I'd admire to drink with yuh some day," said Breedlove.
"Well, that goes double," replied the sheriff. "When your vacation in the hills is finished drop back."
Lilly shook his head. "You shore beat me, Sheriff. Well, let's be goin'." They slid out of the office and, hidden by the shadows, ducked through an alley to the back of the town. A hundred yards off they collided with a waiting party. Muffled words of greeting floated upward, the rough and apparently unemotional talk of men glad to see another.
"Here's the ol' hoss."
"Drunk er sober? Hey, remember when we had t' pull him outen that scrape at Box Canyon?"
"He don't git no tamer."
Lilly fired back. "Same old pack of gossipin' gran-ma's. Hope you brought yore tattin' along."
They had journeyed into the country without horses or gear. Yet here they stood, eight of them, each mounted, and with an extra animal for Lilly. Mounting and leading away to the south, he put a puzzled question. "Where'd you collect these scarecrows from, Joe?"
"Why, we borrowed 'em from the town's stable. The gent in charge is out in one o' them empty sheds, reflectin' over the sinfulness o' this world."
There was a suppressed chuckle. The H-H crew was having a glorious vacation. Lilly settled into a stiff pace and led them toward the 3Cross. "Well, have a good time while you can, amigos. There's shootin' work ahead. Don't forget it." Leather creaked and spurs jingled. A black veil shrouded the sky and left the world in utter darkness. Somewhere, a coyote sent forth his quavering, lonesome cry; the smell of sage was in the night breeze.
"Ease up," said Lilly in a muffled voice. The cavalcade dropped to a slow walk, crawling southward. "We're pretty close to the 3Cross now. I can smell it."
"Do we pay 'em a visit or a surprise?" whispered Joe Breedlove.
"A surprise. It's a fightin' game now, Joe. I want you to take four of the boys and corral the bunkhouse. I'll picket a couple around the house an' one at the barn. Me, I'm goin' in to find this horse-faced Englishman and pluck his eyebrows out, one at a time."
"Sounds bad," murmured Breedlove; he was chuckling. "The boys'll enjoy this little holiday."
Blacker shadows in the thin, morning air. Lilly halted, the cavalcade colliding with him. Soft warning ran from man to man and there was a slight groaning of leather and the muffled sound of hands sliding across holsters. "We walk from here," announced Lilly. "Joe, I'll give you five minutes to get that bunkhouse located. When yore ready, let out a whoop and a shot as warnin' to me."
They slid down, leaving the horses. Indian file, they slouched forward behind Lilly until the ranch-house barred their way. Silently, Joe Breedlove touched the four nearest men and, together they disappeared. Lilly whispered directions to the remaining three and waited until they had slipped off before advancing across the porch of the house. As with all Westerners, Stubbins scorned to lock his doors and Lilly raised the latch and opened the portal an inch at a time. A single coal gleamed in the fireplace; stale pipe smoke filled the room. Lilly groped his way over the rug-strewn floor, touched a table and stopped to orient himself. This room was quite silent; but he heard the heavy snoring of a man come out of some near-by room. He skirted a chair, entered what felt like a hallway to his exploring fingers and stopped at a sudden opening. The sleeping fellow's breath rose and fell, alternately sibilant and droning. A heavy sleeper, this one. Lilly felt certain it was Stubbins and moved over the threshold, approaching the bed. There was a window directly beyond the bed and by the patch of gray shadow relieving the opaque dark of the room he saw the crooked figure sprawled beneath the blankets.
Closer he dared not go. So he rested, bringing up his gun and waiting for the signal from Joe Breedlove. Treacherous silence pervaded the 3Cross. The sleeping figure strangled and turned, relapsing to a more normal breathing.
The signal changed all this. There was a high, "Eee-yippy- yippy-yip!" and the flat explosion of a revolver. A door was smashed in and instantly a dozen voices and another gun shot answered the challenge. Lilly had no opportunity to follow Joe Breedlove's fortunes; his own man had risen bolt upright in bed, silhouetted by the gray patch of the window, and was swearing broadly. "What's that—what's that?" he grumbled. A better comprehension came to him when Lilly stepped up, speaking in a soothing voice. "You stand fast, brother Stubbins. I recognize that beef-eatin' accent. Boost yore hands. Boost 'em!"
The bed springs screeched. Stubbins flung himself backward and smote the woolen head of his couch with terrific force. Lilly saw a hand go around in a semicircle and knew the man was reaching for his gun. He brought the barrel of his own weapon down, smashing Stubbins across the head. Thereupon, the master of the 3Cross grunted and temporarily passed from the scene. Lilly's exploring hand reached and appropriated Stubbins' gun and holster hanging on the bed post.
A rear door opened with a clatter and boots came tramping down the hallway. A voice said, "Hey, Stubbins! What the hell—?"
He was pouring words through the bedroom door; but his senses told him something was wrong and he drew back with a challenge. "Who's that there? Speak up or I'll plug yuh!"
"Same to you, brother," announced Lilly and stepped aside into a deeper patch of darkness. An orange-purple flame ran out and was met by another; a water jar trembled in its bowl, the acrid odor of burnt powder swirled high. A gun dropped, a body slid down with a surprising sigh. Somewhere to the rear a Chinaman's voice was flinging weird, wild words about like so many pitched knives. Over this bedlam he heard the drawling voices of one of his own men, Moses. "Well, how's it stand?"
"I plugged somebody," announced Lilly. "The main guy is here on the bed where I plastered him."
"Fifty-fifty," announced Moses in a bored tone. "I ketched me a person at the front door. Seems like he was on guard, but I reckon he fell asleep till the noise jarred him some. He's chewin' at the knots I took in him. Say, that Chink is apt to bust a lung if he don't take a few cinches in them gosh-awful words."
"Light up," said Lilly. "I think Joe's rounded his critters."
He had followed the sound of struggle in the bunk-house but intermittently during his own activity; and by now the shots had ceased and there was only the hum of voices like the buzzing of bees in a disturbed hive. Breedlove sent his gay announcement across the yard. "Say what, Tommy."
"Good enough here."
"Well, what'll I do with these boys? Never saw so many punchers fer one ranch. I count fifteen."
"Hobble 'em an' come over."
Moses had found and lighted a lamp in the main room. He carried it into the bedroom and inspected the man Lilly had dropped at the door. Blood streamed down his face, but it seemed to be something less than a mortal wound. Moses put the lamp on the floor