"If he doesn't recognize you," said Lungy, "let the dead past stay dead!"
Out there in the sunshine the Jackleg looked the part, so I wondered how we come to be faked by him. We could see that the other fellow was a sheriff, a deputy-sheriff, or a candidate for sheriff--it was in his features.
"Howdy, fellows!" said I.
"Howdy!" said the sheriff, and closed his face.
"Odd place to meet!" gushed the Jackleg, as smily as ever. "Which way?"
"We allowed to go right on," I said.
"This is our route," said Jackleg, and moseys up the opposite draw, clucking to his bronk, like an old woman.
"What do you make of his being here?" asked Lungy.
"Hunting Swedes," I said. "And with a case against Pete for robbery and assault. I hope we see him first!"
We went on, Lungy ignorantly cheerful, I lost-like to know what was what, and feeling around with my mind's finger for the trigger of the situation. Suddenly I whoaed up, shifted around on my hip, and looked back.
"Lost anything, Bill?" asked Lungy.
"Temporarily mislaid my brains," said I. "We're going back and pick up the scent of the Jackleg."
Lungy looked up inquiringly, as we doubled back on our tracks.
"When you kick a covey of men out of this sagebrush," I explained, "they naturally ask about anything they're after. They inquire if you know a Cock-Robin married to a Jenny-Wren, or an Owl to a Pussycat, or whatever marital misdeal they're trailing. They don't mog on like it was Kansas City or Denver."
"Both parties kept still," replied Lungy. "What's the answer, Bill?"
"Both got the same guilty secret," said I, "and they've got it the worst. They know where Pete is. So will we if we follow their spoor."
We pelted on right brisk after them. The draw got to be a canon, with grassy, sheep-nibbled bottom, and we knew we were close to somewhere. At last, rolling to us around a bend, came a tide of remarks, rising and swelling to the point of rough-house and riot.
"The widow!" said I. "She knows me. You go in, Lungy, and put up a stall to keep 'em from seeing Pete alone first!"
I crept up close. The widow was calling the Jackleg everything that a perfect lady as she was, you know, could lay her tongue to, and he trying to blast a crack in the oratory to slip a word into.
"I dislike," said Lungy, "to disturb privacy; but we want your man to show us the way."
"Who the devil are you?" said the sheriff.
"My name--" began Lungy.
"Whativer it is, sorr," said the widow, "it's a betther name nor his you shpake to--the black far-down, afther taking me man and lavin' me shtarve wid me babbies he robbed iv what the coort give! But as long as I've a tongue in me hid to hould, ye'll not know where he's hid!"
And just then down behind me comes Pete on a fair-sized cayuse branded with a double X.
"Dat bane you, Bill?" said he casual-like. "You most skar me!"
I flagged him back a piece and told him the Jackleg was there. He ran, and I had to rope him.
"You're nervous, Pete," said I, helping him up. "What's the matter?"
"Dis blame getaway biz," he said, "bane purty tough on fallar. Ay listen an' yump all tem nights!"
"How about going back for the mine?" I asked.
"Dat bane gude yoke!" he grinned. "Ay got gude flock an' planty range hare, an' Ay stay, Ay tank. Yu kill lawyer fallar, Bill, an' take half whole shooting-match!"
"Got that certificate?" I asked.
It was all worn raw at the folds, but he had it. The Jackleg had an assignment all ready on the back, and I wrote Addison's name in, and made Pete sign it.
"Now," said I. "We'll take care of Mr. Jackleg, and you'll get something for this, but I don't know what. Don't ever come belly-aching around saying we've bunked you after Lungy has put up his good money and copped the mine. These men want this paper, not you. Probably they've got no warrant. Brace up and stand pat!"
So we walked around bold as brass. The widow was dangling a Skandy-looking kid over her shoulder by one foot, and analyzing the parentage of Jackleg. Lungy was grinning, but the sheriff's face was shut down.
"Ah, Mr. Peterson!" said the lawyer. "And our old and dear friend William Snoke, too! I thought I recognized you this morning! And now, please excuse our old and dear friend Mr. Peterson for a moment's consultation."
"Dis bane gude pless," said Pete. "Crack ahead!"
"This is a private matter, gentlemen," said Jackleg.
"Shall we withdraw?" asks Lungy.
"No!" yells Pete. "You stay--be vitness!"
"I wish to remind you, dear Mr. Peterson," said he as we sort of settled in our places, "that your criminal assault and robbery of me has subjected you to a long term in prison. And I suffered great damage by interruption of business, and bodily and mental anguish from the wounds, contusions and lesions inflicted, and especially from the compound fracture of the inferior maxillary bone--"
"Dat bane lie!" said Pete. "Ay yust broke your yaw!"
"He admits the _corpus delicti_!" yelled the lawyer. "Gentlemen, bear witness!"
"I didn't hear any such thing," said Lungy.
"Neither did I," I said.
"I figure my damages," he went on, "at twelve thousand dollars."
Pete picked a thorn out of his finger.
"Now, Mr. Peterson," went on the lawyer, "I don't suppose you have the cash. But when I have stood up and fought for a man for pure friendship and a mere contingent fee, I learn to love him. I would fain save you from prison, if you would so act as to enable me to acquit you of felonious intent. A prison is a fearful place, Mr. Peterson!"
"Ay tank," said Pete, "Ay brace up an' stand pat!"
"If you would do anything," pleaded the Jackleg, "to show good intention, turn over to me any papers you may have, no matter how worthless--notes, or--or certificates!"
Pete pulled out his wallet. Lungy turned pale.