Page:Sunset Magazine vol. 31.pdf/463

 ride, in the rough frank way peculiar to the country—and curiously enough, it is entirely free from offense. Instead of replying in kind, as would any one else, Gilpin gave a sly smile and said “You fellers talk too much.” The subtle suggestion was not lost; innuendo beats iteration a thousand miles. The quick looks the others exchanged were followed by whispers, when Gilpin capped this by getting on his dignity and affecting anger over the raillery.

And the whispers grew. Of course they did not reach the Thurbers, for Thurber of the Gourd was a hard-handed man and there lived none who dared hint it to him; but Shanghai heard. None of the better element in the county but scoffed at the gossip and dismissed it from mind; still, there are always some who swallow such stuff eagerly. It was to these that Shanghai gave ear.

He said nothing to Annielee, because in a dull blind way he raged against her, even while believing no word of it. But he saddled a horse one morning and struck across country for the Straight Y ranch, where Gilpin was employed.

Coming upon him on day-herd atop a hill, Shanghai rode close, and still sitting his horse, said to Gilpin, who was on the ground with the reins under his arm, “You’re the man I'm looking for.”

Mel glanced up in quick alarm, but replied in a friendly tone “Hello, Shanghai. What's the matter? You look mad.”

“Stand up” continued Pryor, not trusting himself with preliminaries. “Stand up on your feet and say what a liar you are.”

“Why, what's got into you, Shanghai?” protested Mel, but there had come a whine into his voice and he rose obediently. “You’ve been talking” was all Pryor could find to say. “I ain’t never said a word. Whoever says I said a word is a liar. You take me face to face with him. I'll tell him so. You—”

“It ain't what you say” Shanghai, in terrupted huskily, “it’s your damned— here, you sign this. I don't want to talk to the likes of you at all.” He thrust a sheet of paper at Mel, who strove to read it, but he was so nervous that

the gist of it escaped him. “What's

this,

Shanghai?”

he asked

weakly. “It’s a lie-bill. Sign it. Yes, you will, too; here's a pencil.”

“But I ain’t done nothing, Shanghai. Me and you have always been friends. What's got into you, Shanghai? You surely don’t aim to–” “You sign that piece of paper.” He drew a six-shooter from his waist-band very deliberately. Once more Mel applied himself to master ing the document, but his panic was too real.

There was a sick smile on his weak

mouth and he gulped. Fearing that he might refuse and necessitate his killing him, Pryor stepped from his horse and took Gilpin by the arm. “Listen. I'll read it to you.” This is to certify that the lies going round about Annielee Thurber ain't true.

I haven’t

got nothing but respect for that lady. And I hereby admit I am a sorry scoundrel and not fit for her to wipe her shoes on. She is as pure as the lily and as white as the snow. I will promise never to lie about nobody no more. I was a coyote for doing what I did. All of which is hereby swore to in the pres ence of James T. Pryor.

“What does it mean?” inquired Gilpin stupidly. “There ain't no call to make me say all that, Shanghai. I swear I never—”

He broke off his protestations abruptly because the muzzle of Shanghai’s gun poked his side; he caught the chill of the steel through his shirt and trembled. “You put your name there,” indicating with a forefinger, the while his gaze became so threatening that Gilpin could not face it. He licked his lips and took the pencil; yet he hesitated.

“If you don’t, Gilpin, you'll never go back to camp tonight.” “All right, I’ll sign. But you ain’t doing me right, Shanghai. This ain’t fair.” Pryor folded the bill with nice care, placed it in a small leather bag, and remounted. “That's all I want with you” he said easily, the generosity of a victor softening him for the moment. “You can go now. But if I ever hear a sound out of you, Gilpin—well, you know me. Adios.” Greatly elated, Shanghai arrayed him self like the sun that night and galloped every foot of the way to the Gourd ranch. Into the peaceful domesticity of the Thur ber home he burst, and when the old people had discreetly withdrawn to bed, hitched his chair close to Annielee's, to her no in

considerable uneasiness, and hauled forth the