Part 13

“He told us that the dead-line was mined with dynamite, and that a sparrow couldn’t cross it. We had no way of finding out just how strong the line was. He wanted us to wait, so we waited—until Hartley came across and told us the truth. Now I’m goin’ to give Jack and Molly the Turkey Track for a weddin’ present. And I wish you’d see about gettin’ me to a doctor, cause I don’t want to die off, when there’s so much hatchet-buryin’ goin’ on, Marsh.”

“Just as soon as we can get yuh to one, Eph,” said Marsh. “We’ll take yuh to the Arrow, while one of the boys rides after the doctor.”

“What about me?” Thus Abe Allison.

No one had paid any attention to him. He had taken no part in the shooting, made no effort to run away. Now the crowd considered him, rather amazed to think that he had been overlooked.

“Oh, yeah,” Hashknife looked at him critically. “You were one of Ed Larrimer’s men, wasn’t yuh, Allison?”

“Uh-huh,” Allison looked around at the crowd. “I’m as guilty as ——, I reckon. To me, this wasn’t a killin’ proposition. But I’m not beggin’. I knew it was crooked work; so I’ll take my medicine.”

“He never killed anybody,” said Larrimer, whose wound was being bound up by one of the sheepmen. “Abe was straight until he worked for me.”

“I’ll take care of him,” said the sheriff firmly. “Get me a lariat, Sunshine. We’ll make a clean sweep of the whole gang while we’re at it.”

“Who will make a clean sweep?” asked Hashknife.

Sunshine stopped and looked back at the sheriff.

“You better answer that, Sudden,” he grinned.

“Well, all right,” grudgingly. “I’ll admit that Hartley made a clean sweep. I’ll help a little by puttin’ Allison where he belongs.”

“Let’s talk about it a little,” said Hashknife. “It appears to me that we all forgot Allison, until he chirps up and asks us what to do with him. My idea of the right thing to do would be to ask Mr. Allison to grab his hat, rattle his hocks out of this country and promise to never come back.”

“You mean—to turn him loose?” asked the sheriff, a trifle amazed. “Why, he’s a rustler——”

“Was, yuh mean,” Hashknife grinned softly. “I reckon he’s what you’d call a complete cure, Sudden.”

The sheriff scratched his head; his eyes squinted thoughtfully.

“You ought to be satisfied, Sudden,” observed Sunshine. “You’ve got enough now to brag about for the rest of yore life.”

Some one laughed. Sudden hunched his shoulders and glared at Sunshine, but turned to Allison, half choking with anger.

“You here yet? Whatsa matter—ain’t yuh got no horse? Want us to haul yuh away? My ——, some folks can’t take a hint!”

He whirled on his heel and barked an order at Sunshine.

“Get some of these reformed sheepherders to help yuh rig up a litter of some kind. We’ve got to pack Eph King to the Arrow. And some of yuh fix up Larrimer, so he can ride a horse. Can’tcha move? My gosh, I don’t want to do everythin’.”

The crowd hastened to construct the litter. Allison had not moved, and now he turned to Hashknife, his face twitching nervously.

“Did he mean that I could go away—free, Hartley?”

“Are you here yet?” grinned Hashknife.

Allison took a deep breath and started toward the corral, but after a few strides he stopped and looked at Hashknife.

“Kinda queer, ain’t it?” he whispered foolishly. “I—I want to run, but I’m scared to do it.”

“You don’t have to run,” said Hashknife.

“I know it.” He smiled queerly. “I don’t have to—but I can’t hardly help myself.” He brushed the back of his hand across his cheek. ‘I want to say somethin’ to you—but I can’t, it seems like. I—you know, don’tcha, Hartley?”

“Yeah, I know, Allison.”

The freed rustler nodded, turned and walked slowly to the corral, as if trying desperately to hold himself in check. Hashknife smiled thoughtfully and looked at Molly and Jack. The girl’s eyes were filled with tears, but she was smiling at Hashknife, a smile that repaid him for everything he had done.

“Everything is all right—thank you,” she said softly.

“It always was all right,” nodded Hashknife. “Sometimes it takes us quite a while to find it out—but it’s worth more then.”

Marsh Hartwell came to Hashknife. There were tears in the big man’s eyes, and his hand trembled slightly as he held it out to the tall cowboy and said hoarsely:

“Hartley, I just want to say that Marsh Hartwell and Lo Lo Valley owes you a mighty big debt. We’re goin’ to pull off a big meetin’ at the Arrow, just as soon as we can notify those on the dead-line, and if there’s anythin’ in Lo Lo Valley that you and your pardner want, you sure can have it.”

Hashknife shooks hands gravely with him and turned to Sleepy.

“Cowboy, this is our chance. Is there anythin’ yuh want real bad?”

“Yeah, there is.’” Sleepy scratched his ear. “I want a chance to sleep. This is the dangest hoot-owl country I ever got into. And I’ve got to have a package of tobacco. Thassall, I reckon. Now what do you want, Hashknife?”

“Me?” Hashknife smiled widely. “Well, I’d kinda like to see the expression on Mrs. Marsh Hartwell’s face when she sees her two kids comin’ home with their dads, and finds out that everythin’ is all right. That’ll be all I want.”

Hashknife turned away and looked out beyond the corral, where Abe Allison was riding up the slope of a hill. He drew rein and waved his sombrero in a sweeping arc. Hashknife threw up his right hand in a peace sign. Sudden Smithy, who was superintending the moving of the wounded, looked up and waved at Allison as if it was the departure of an old friend.

* * * * *

The menace of Kiopo Pass was gone forever; all dead-lines wiped out. Sunshine Gallagher straightened up and took a deep breath.

“I knowed it would work out like this,” he said wisely.

“Some day,” said Sudden severely, “you’ll git caught lyin’.”