"Shore somethin's comin' off," said Ladd, sharply; and he sat up with keen eyes narrowing.
Belding spoke a few words; and, remembering an impression he had wished to make upon Mr. Gale, he made them strong. But now it was with grim humor that he spoke.
"Better stop that boy," he concluded, looking at Mr. Gale. "He'll do some mischief. He's wilder'n hell."
"Stop him? Why, assuredly," replied Mr. Gale, rising with nervous haste.
Just then **** came out of his door. Belding eyed him keenly. The only change he could see was that **** had put on a hat and a pair of heavy gloves.
"Richard, where are you going?" asked his father.
"I'm going over here to see a man."
"No. It is my wish that you remain. I forbid you to go," said Mr. Gale, with a hand on his son's shoulder.
**** put Mr. Gale aside gently, respectfully, yet forcibly. The old man gasped.
"Dad, I haven't gotten over my bad habit of disobeying you. I'm sorry. Don't interfere with me now. And don't follow me. You might see something unpleasant."
"But my son! What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to beat a dog."
Mr. Gale looked helplessly from this strangely calm and cold son to the restless Belding. Then **** strode off the porch.
"Hold on!" Ladd's voice would have stopped almost any man. "****, you wasn't agoin' without me?"
"Yes, I was. But I'm thoughtless just now, Laddy."
"Shore you was. Wait a minute, ****. I'm a sick man, but at that nobody can pull any stunts round here without me."
He hobbled along the porch and went into his room. Jim Lash knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and, humming his dance tune, he followed Ladd. In a moment the rangers appeared, and both were packing guns.
Not a little of Belding's grim excitement came from observation of Mr. Gale. At sight of the rangers with their guns the old man turned white and began to tremble.
"Better stay behind," whispered Belding. "****'s going to beat that two-legged dog, and the rangers get excited when they're packing guns."
"I will not stay behind," replied Mr. Gale, stoutly. "I'll see this affair through. Belding, I've guessed it. Richard is going to fight the Chases, those robbers who have ruined you."
"Well, I can't guarantee any fight on their side," returned Belding, dryly. "But maybe there'll be Greasers with a gun or two."
Belding stalked off to catch up with ****, and Mr. Gale came trudging behind with Thorne.
"Where will we find these Chases?" asked **** of Belding.
"They've got a place down the road adjoining the inn. They call it their club. At this hour Radford will be there sure.
I don't know about the old man. But his office is now just across the way."
They passed several houses, turned a corner into the main street, and stopped at a wide, low adobe structure. A number of saddled horses stood haltered to posts. Mexicans lolled around the wide doorway.
"There's Ben Chase now over on the corner," said Belding to ****.
"See, the tall man with the white hair, and leather band on his hat. He sees us. He knows there's something up. He's got men with him. They'll come over. We're after the young buck, and sure he'll be in here."
They entered. The place was a hall, and needed only a bar to make it a saloon. There were two rickety pool tables. Evidently Chase had fitted up this amusement room for his laborers as well as for the use of his engineers and assistants, for the crowd contained both Mexicans and Americans. A large table near a window was surrounded by a noisy, smoking, drinking circle of card-players.
"Point out this Radford Chase to me," said Gale.
"There! The big fellow with the red face. His eyes stick out a little. See! He's dropped his cards and his face isn't red any more."
**** strode across the room.
Belding grasped Mr. Gale and whispered hoarsely: "Don't miss anything.
It 'll be great. Watch **** and watch Laddy! If there's any gun play, dodge behind me."
Belding smiled with a grim pleasure as he saw Mr. Gales' face turn white.
**** halted beside the table. His heavy boot shot up, and with a crash the table split, and glasses, cards, chips flew everywhere.
As they rattled down and the chairs of the dumfounded players began to slide **** called out: "My name is Gale. I'm looking for Mr. Radford Chase."
A tall, heavy-shouldered fellow rose, boldly enough, even swaggeringly, and glowered at Gale.
"I'm Radford Chase," he said. His voice betrayed the boldness of his action.
It was over in a few moments. The tables and chairs were tumbled into a heap; one of the pool tables had been shoved aside; a lamp lay shattered, with oil running dark upon the floor. Ladd leaned against a post with a smoking gun in his hand. A Mexican crouched close to the wall moaning over a broken arm. In the far corner upheld by comrades another wounded Mexican cried out in pain. These two had attempted to draw weapons upon Gale, and Ladd had crippled them.
In the center of the room lay Radford Chase, a limp, torn, hulking, bloody figure. He was not seriously injured. But he was helpless, a miserable beaten wretch, who knew his condition and felt the eyes upon him. He sobbed and moaned and howled. But no one offered to help him to his feet.
Backed against the door of the hall stood Ben Chase, for once stripped of all authority and confidence and courage. Gale confronted him, and now Gale's mien was in striking contrast to the coolness with which he had entered the place. Though sweat dripped from his face, it was as white as chalk. Like dark flames his eyes seemed to leap and dance and burn. His lean jaw hung down and quivered with passion. He shook a huge gloved fist in Chase's face.
"Your gray hairs save you this time. But keep out of my way! And when that son of yours comes to, tell him every time I meet him I'll add some more to what he got to-day!"