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Page 20
'Ole Man' Terrill was of the watch-dog breed. Whether warned by
the instinct of his kind or wakened by the scent of McKee's
bear-grease, he suddenly opened his eyes. Like all men
accustomed to emergencies, he was instantly in full possession of
his wits, yet he pretended to be slightly confused in order to
get a grasp upon the situation before greeting his visitor.
"Howdy, Buck," he said, adjusting his revolver as he swung
half-round in his chair, that he might reach his weapon more
readily in an emergency. "Bustin' or busted?"
"Well, I'm about even with the game," replied McKee, pulling from
his pocket a bag of tobacco and papers, and deftly rolling a
butterfly cigarette. "Goin' to shake it before I lose my pile.
It's me for the Lazy K. Dropped in to say good-by."
Terrill, who had recently had an expensive seance with McKee at
poker, remonstrated:
"Yuh ought 'o give me another chanct at yuh, Buck. Yo're goin'
away with too much of my money."
"Well, 'Ole Man,' I'm likely to rob yuh of a lot more ef you
ain't keerful," answered McKee.
"Yuh can't jet yeta while," said Terrill. "Dead broke."
"Aw, come off! everybody knows ye're a walkin' bank. Bet yuh got
three thousan' in that inside pocket o' your'n this minute."
Terrill started at McKee's naming the exact amount he was
carrying. He forgot his customary caution in his surprise.
"Well, you did just hit it, shore enough. I believe ye're half-
gipsy instid o' half-Injun. Jus' like yer knowin' I stood pat on
four uv a kind when you had aces full, and throwin' down yer
cyards 'fore I c'u'd git even with yuh. How do yuh do it, Buck?"
McKee gave a smile of cunning, inscrutable superiority. "Oh,
it's jes' a power I has. 'Keen sabby,' as the Greasers say--I'm
keen on the know-how. Why, I kin tell yuh more about the money.
It's fer Jack Payson--"
"Now, there's whur ye're way off as a cleervoyant, Buck," said
Terrill triumphantly. "Yuh guessed oncet too often, as yer old
pard on the Lazy K said to the druggist. 'Peruna?' ast the
druggist. 'Yep,' said yer pard. 'Beginnin' mild on a new jag?'
ast the druggist a second time. 'Hell, no!' said yer pard they
calls Peruna now from the in-sih-dent, 'ending up strong on an
old one.' Nope, the three thousan' is county money, consigned to
Sheriff Hoover. Jack Payson has jes' lef' with a package from K.
C., but it wasn't money. It was a purty, gilt chair--a
weddin'-present fer the gal he's go'n' to marry."
At that moment the sounder of the telegraph began clicking the
call of the station. Terrill whirled about in his swivel-chair
and faced the table.
McKee stood close behind him. His lips twitched nervously. His
eyes narrowed as he watched every movement of the agent's big
shoulders as he operated the key. At the same time the
half-breed drew his revolver and covered the back of Terrill's
head.
The agent completed his message and turned to continue his
interrupted conversation. He found himself gazing into the
muzzle of a .44, big, it seemed, as a thirteen-inch gun. "Why--
what?" he stammered.
"I'm actin' jes' now as Slim's deppity," said McKee. "Unbutton
an' han' that money over."
Once having his victim in his power, all the innate cruelty of
the Indian blood of his maternal ancestors flashed to the
surface. Terrill was at his mercy. For one desperate moment he
would play with him; even torture him as his forefathers had once
made miserable the last moments of a captive. He knew that
unless he silenced Terrill his life must pay the forfeit. Death
was the penalty of detection. The arm of the express company was
long. Ultimate capture was certain. Pursued out of Arizona by
the sheriff, he would be trailed through every camp and town in
the far West.
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