CHAPTER XVII.

CALLING A BLUFF.

Riding together as they crossed the range in the early morning, Maj. Ivan MacDonald and Thomas Fitzrapp conversed with sobered faces and in a tone that did not carry back to Darned Cuss, who brought up the rear, as became his subdued nature and the rôle of witness, which had been assigned to him. All three were well mounted and all armed for serious business, which their visit to the Open A Ranch promised to be.

"Lord Harry, Major, but won't it be a relief to be freed of this rustler pest?" Fitzrapp was saying as they drew near to the gap which served as the entrance to Childress' ranch.

"Time enough to congratulate ourselves when we've turned the trick, Thomas," said MacDonald, stroking his close-cropped beard. "I've been disappointed so many times that this discovery of O'Hara's seems too good to be true. By the way, the buster didn't come in during the night, did he?"

"Wasn't expected to unless the situation in the basin underwent a change. If this morning's work results as I expect it to, we'll have to reward that young range rider handsomely for his scouting."

MacDonald nodded agreement. "Yet it scarcely seems reasonable that the scoundrels would try so raw a deal," he said doubtfully.

"They probably expect to win out through their very daring," argued Fitzrapp. "What could be bolder than taking up a ranchhold on the very edge of our range, the nearest section that's for sale? That fellow Childress has nerve enough for anything. Signed that round-robin asking the Mounted to send a patrol here--signed it, as I told you without crinkling an eyebrow."

"What a pity the man isn't honest, Fitzrapp," remarked the pioneer. "It's just his sort of nerve, ridden on a straight track, that makes for big success. And what's the reward for all this criminal activity? A few thousand easy dollars that have to be divided seven ways, and in the end the surety of being caught either by a parcel of lead or a tie-rope strangle or years in prison. God knows I'm no saint any more than I am a preacher, Thomas, but that honesty-the-best policy lingo is not foolish chatter. Someway I can't believe Childress a crook. That day riding in from the Whitefoot he looked and talked too sensibly to follow any such fool trail as rustling."

"I've seen more of him than you have, Major," said Fitzrapp. "I only wonder he hasn't applied for board at the Rafter A or tried to hire on as a contract buster."

Although the ranch manager undoubtedly did not intend it to be anything of the sort, this last item of surprise was quite a compliment. A "contract buster" is an expert rider who undertakes the breaking of horses at so much a head, and signs off all employer's liability before he draws his first cinch.

"I'm more surprised," Fitzrapp continued, "that he's made such an impression upon our wonderful Ethel. I happen to know on undoubted authority--"

"Dunc O'Hara?" cut in the major.

Fitzrapp nodded. "I happen to know that she's seen him alone since he came into the Fire Weed. And the other day over at Gallegher's she actually begged that he make his next social call in the direction of the Rafter A."

"Jealous again, Tom," said the handsome old major with a smile. "When you're as old as I am you'll have learned that there's no accounting for the freaks of winds, wives or widows."

They rode on in silence, increasing their speed as they entered the draw. They came up to the half-finished cabin at a lope, to find Childress in the act of finishing his breakfast. Neither surprise nor restraint showed in his greeting, although he looked mildly curious.

"You're riding early this morning, Major MacDonald," he remarked, when they had declined his invitation to dismount.

"Mayhap you've heard what the early bird catches," Fitzrapp put in, for which he received a frown of caution from the veteran.

"There has been some straying from my niece's two-year-old band," returned MacDonald, his manner courteous, his tone casual. "I didn't know but that they might have wandered into your basin. Fitzrapp and I thought to have a look."

"More than welcome," Childress assured him. "If there are any two-year-olds on the Open A, they don't belong to me. A few mares with colts, the stallion over there, and the team that's now on a trip to the railroad are the extent of my horse stock at present. Later on I hope to branch out a bit, but always there must be a beginning."

The sergeant's attention was diverted by the old hound, which was making extravagant efforts to express his approval of MacDonald by leaping against the horse in an obvious attempt to lick the rider's hand. Evidently the performance was decidedly objectionable to the rangy bay which the stockman rode.

"Hyah, you Poison, quit being a variegated nuisance!" Childress shouted. "That hound-dog certainly is violent in his fancies," he remarked as the beast returned to him with a reluctant whine. "If you'll wait until I throw a saddle on Silver, I'll ride along with you."

A smile of satisfaction crossed Fitzrapp's face. Because of the fact that O'Hara had not returned with any alarming word, he felt certain that the trap could be sprung according to program.

As Childress strode off, Fitzrapp said in an undertone to MacDonald: "We've got him, Major. He's running a bluff thinking we won't look into that side ravine where he's hidden the stolen stock. Watch him try to head us off when I suggest looking there, and be prepared to listen to some glib excuses when we uncover the lifted blacks. This is going to be as good as a drama."

There was no question about the ranch manager's expectations. Obviously he was prepared to enjoy to the utmost the discomfiture of this unknown who had dared arouse the interest of the incomparable Ethel, long the object of his own devotions. He believed that nothing could now save Childress from exposure and disgrace.

The four reached the upper pasture; Darned Cuss, still silent and watchful, riding in the rear to cover Childress on his first move toward his gun. There the suspect drew rein. With a wave of his hand he indicated a dozen mares and some young colts which stared with up-pointing ears at the party interrupting their breakfast.

"No strays here, Major MacDonald, as you can see for yourself," he remarked, with a smile that seemed a trifle too bland.

"Isn't that a ravine heading into the bluff over there to the right?" queried Fitzrapp, his eyes upon Childress rather than in the direction of his gesture.

"A bit of a one," returned the owner of the Open A easily, "but you'll find nothing there. It's a regular garden patch of fire weed, and you must know that horses won't even nibble at that."

"Tell you better whether there are strays or not after we've looked," said Fitzrapp pointedly, spurring his mount toward the ravine, his heart exultant over the trap that was about to be sprung to the permanent elimination of his rival from the widow competition.

At a more leisurely pace, the others followed; Childress with an inscrutable expression, though offering no further objection. Seeing that Fitzrapp had ridden into the ravine, Cuss nerved himself for the outbreak that might be expected from the interloper when a shout announced the discovery that was promised. He was quite ready to demonstrate that he had not outgrown his proven speed and skill with the gun. The major, too, was watchful.

But no shout came to their ears, and presently Fitzrapp returned, only partly banishing a crestfallen expression that gloomed his face. Under his breath he was muttering maledictions upon the general inefficiency of Duncan O'Hara, and gulping back his regret over the failure of the coup he had planned so carefully.

"The ravine is empty," he remarked, his voice well under control. "Our strays couldn't have come this way."

"We'll have to search elsewhere," said the major, turning his mount toward the mouth of the basin. "Expect to remain here long, Childress?"

"Who knows but that I'll become a fixture if I can make the amount of the payments to the railroad company and a living besides," was the half serious return. "The basin will support a band sufficient to enable me to raise a few high-bred animals each year, rather than many nondescript ones. I believe that is where the money lies in the future."

"And have the rustlers take your profits!" exclaimed Fitzrapp, who was disturbed by MacDonald's interested expression and eager to keep the horse thief idea before his mind.

"They'll have to take me into camp first," the sergeant declared, his eyes glittering dangerously.

"Superb actor," thought Fitzrapp, and he began to cast about for some lead that would break down the reserve of this competent individual whom he had come to hate so bitterly.

The major nodded approvingly. "You've got the right idea, neighbor," he observed to Fitzrapp's increased discomfiture. "The day of range breeding is passing with the advancing wave of wheat and mixed farming. It won't be long until the oldest of us are digging post holes and stringing barb-wire. As I believe I observed once before, that's a fine animal you ride."

The sergeant's face beamed at this tribute to Silver. "He is that! Think I'll have to take him up to Strathconna's industrial exposition next June and show him off. His record shows that he's never been beaten."

Fitzrapp thought he saw a chance. "Then perhaps there was something serious behind that offer to race my horse that you made over at Gallegher's the other day. Have you any money to say that the silver beast can't be made to take the dust?"

The major said nothing, merely looking his disapproval of this boast and counter-boast.

Into Childress's face came a shrewd look as he answered. "I staked my saddle on Silver a few years ago, and I'm still riding the same leather. Suppose I could scrape up a thousand to say that he hasn't forgotten how to run. You have a horse in mind, Fitzrapp?"

"My stallion, Canada, will make yours look like a selling plater," was the eager declaration. "I'll back him for any amount, any distance, any time and any place."

Fitzrapp personally owned the horse of which he spoke, a thoroughbred black which had shown speed and was now at the Rafter A. He had no idea that Childress actually would come to terms and arrange a race, but he hoped to discredit the stranger in the eyes of the major, who had no use for a man who boasted of his horse and then was unwilling to back him.

"Fair enough," murmured the sergeant. "Will you ride him yourself?"

"Gladly," declared the ranch manager, thinking that the other was seeking a loophole of escape.

"That is, of course, provided you ride your own horse."

"Silver would scarcely perform at his best for anyone else," said Childress, smiling. "I'm not a betting man, Mr. Fitzrapp, having had my lesson and memorized it, but I'll contribute a thousand dollars to a purse if you'll do the same, and we'll ride it out, winner take all."

"The amount is small," hedged Fitzrapp.

"Didn't suppose we were out for mere money in this instance," countered Silver's owner. "Thought we were wanting to demonstrate horse supremacy. And you have a bit the edge on me, for you've seen my horse and I've never laid eyes on yours. I mentioned a thousand-dollar contribution, as that happens to be the amount named in the one certificate of deposit I have on a Strathconna bank. Of course, if you've changed your mind----"

"I wouldn't want Canada to race in public for such a small sum," returned Fitzrapp, "but if you'll make it a private race and run it in Strathconna, say the day before the exposition opens, I'll be more than glad to take you on."

This proposition was accepted by Childress with a readiness that did not increase the challenger's peace of mind. At that particular time he could ill afford to lose even the thousand, despite the superior manner with which he had complained over the small amount of the purse. After all, he knew absolutely nothing about the speed qualities of the silver stallion, and, while Canada ran exceedingly well at times, the animal possessed a capricious streak that gave any contest in which he was involved an element of dangerous doubt. Fitzrapp had, however, gone too far to back down before the major.

"Will Mr. MacDonald suit you as purse holder?" he asked.

"I'll ask none better," came ready agreement.

A little later, when they drew up before the half completed cabin, Childress went inside and returned with a certificate of deposit which he endorsed to MacDonald, after setting forth the conditions of the race upon its back.

"I haven't a check book in these riding togs," apologized Fitzrapp, "but I guess the major will take my IOU until I can cover properly."

"Unless Childress enters objection," said MacDonald, "I'll be glad to guarantee your share of the purse. But I would suggest that it would be more satisfactory all around if he can ride over to our place within the next day or two and we'll draw up a formal agreement. To my mind he's entitled to look over Canada so long as you've seen the opposing horse, Thomas. Do you suppose you could get away to-morrow or the next day, Mr. Childress?"

Several things combined to bring forth a ready acceptance from the sergeant. One was the shadow of disapproval that rested on Fitzrapp's face. Another was the hope that the visit would bring about further meeting with Mrs. Andress in whom he felt an interest that refused to be subjugated by any argument of common sense--an interest that would not yield to the more vivid impression made upon him by his debtor, the flame girl from Lazy G.

"Make it day after to-morrow," he said cheerfully. "My outfit--my one wrangler--will have returned from the railroad by that time, and I can get away." And all the time an inner voice kept telling him that he was only making trouble for himself in that a sergeant of the Scarlet had no business cultivating an interest in any woman, much less tantalizing himself with two.

The Rafter A party were on the open range outside Childress' basin when MacDonald spoke.

"I'm afraid you were a bit rash in that challenge, Thomas. The silver beast is a runner or I'm no judge of horse flesh, and that chap will ride him to the last kick. It's not going to help you any with Ethel to have Childress trim you. Already she's showing an interest in him that's not so good."

"I've confidence in Canada and I'm used to track racing," returned the ranch manager, still chagrined over the unexpected invitation which the major had extended. "But, hell, we need not trouble our minds over any race with that rustler! He'll never dare show up at the track. We'll surely have the evidence against him by that time."

"We've secured a fine lot of evidence this morning," retorted MacDonald, in a sarcastic vein which he seldom used. "What do you suppose became of those horses O'Hara saw in that ravine?"

"Heaven only knows!" exclaimed Fitzrapp.

"Wonder if O'Hara is really on the level," mused the major audibly. "His looks are against him, and he hails from over in the States, where all our troubles come from."

Fitzrapp entered a prompt defence of the head buster, and MacDonald dropped the subject with the remark that he would make another tally of the two-year-old band that afternoon.

"How did you ever come to invite Childress to visit the home ranch?" Fitzrapp's disturbed meditations finally forced the question.

"Why not? I asked him to the house up in Strathconna and there's been nothing proven against him since."

"But to open your door to one under such a cloud."

"You opened the door yourself, Fitzrapp, by challenging him to a gentleman's race," said the older man with an air of finality. "You needn't be around when he comes if you're so finical about your associates. I can show him your black and act as your representative in the matter of terms."

Fitzrapp's further grumblings were wisely mental and addressed to fate, which of late had been playing him sorry tricks. The one thing he had gained from the morning's effort was a renewed determination to press his suit for the hand of Ethel Andress with all the vigor he dared.