The Land of Strong Men Part 17

"But if you knew that, why the deuce did you play with them?"

"You can't be too particular if you want a game," Gerald laughed.

"You do things so dam' casual out here," Chetwood complained whimsically. "Now when they tried to draw revolvers--'guns' you call them out here--I should have given them in charge."

"Too much trouble and no police force handy," said Gerald. "But I wanted to ask you about that horse you've been training for the Indians, Mackay. Are you betting on him?"

"I haven't been training him, and I don't think I'll bet. The Indians will, though."

"Tell 'em we'll take all the money they have, at evens."

"Even money against the field?"

"Exactly. You'd better take a little yourself."

But Angus refused, princ.i.p.ally because he had no money to lose. They went down to the lobby. This was crowded. Blake French, standing on a chair, was flouris.h.i.+ng a sheaf of bills, offering even money as his brothers had done. He had been drinking, and his remarks seemed to be directed at some certain person or persons.

Looking over the heads of the crowd, Angus saw Dorgan and Paul Sam standing together. The old Indian, bare-headed, his gray braids hanging in front of either shoulder, wearing a blanket coat, skin-tight leggins and brand-new moccasins, made an incongruous figure. The two, seeing Angus, made their way toward him.

"That bird," said Dorgan nodding toward Blake, "is makin' a cinch offer.

Take all you can get. The old boy, here, was just waitin' for you to hold the bets."

"S'pose you hold money, me bet him now," Paul Sam confirmed.

"Come on, come on!" Blake vociferated from his perch. "Put up a bet on your--cayuse. Here's real money. Come and get it!"

Dorgan turned to face him.

"You're makin' a whole lot of noise on that handful of chicken feed," he observed.

"Come and take it then," Blake retorted. "They tell me you used to ride for white men once."

"Well, that never gave _you_ no first call on me!" Dorgan shot back.

Somebody laughed, and Blake's temper, always ugly, flared up.

"Keep a civil tongue in your head, you down-and-outer, or I'll throw you out!" he rasped.

But Dorgan was not awed by the threat, nor by the size of the man who made it.

"Your own tongue ain't workin' none too smooth," he retorted. "Throw me out, hey? About all you'll throw will be a D. T. fit. A hunk of mice bait, that's about what you are, color and all."

With an oath Blake leaped from his chair, sending it cras.h.i.+ng behind him. Perfectly game, little Dorgan crouched to meet the rush, in an att.i.tude which showed a certain experience.

But Angus, cursing the luck which seemed to lead him athwart Blake, stepped between them.

"Hold on, now," he said. "You mustn't----"

"Get out of my way!" Blake roared.

"Now wait!" Angus insisted pacifically. "It wouldn't----"

But Blake struck at him. Angus dodged and clinched. But as he began to shove Blake back Gavin's great arms were thrust between them.

"Let go, Mackay," he said. "Quit it!" he commanded Blake.

"I'll show that runt he can't insult me!" the latter frothed. "Yes, and Mackay, too. Turn me loose, Gan----"

"You can't beat up their jockey before the race," his brother told him.

"Too raw. Mackay? Mackay'd make a mess of you. Quit it, I tell you."

"I'll----" Blake began. But Gavin suddenly cursed him.

"Do you want me to handle you?" he demanded. In his voice came the hoa.r.s.e, growling note it had held when he had spoken to the man pinned against the wall. His hand clamped his brother's wrist and his eyes blazed. Half drunk as he was, Blake apparently recognized these danger signals.

"Let go," he said. "I won't start anything."

His brother eyed him for a moment and turned to Paul Sam.

"How much do you want to bet?"

For answer the Indian pulled forth a huge roll of bills bound by a buckskin thong. They represented sales of steers, cayuses, skins of marten, beaver, bear and lynx, bounties on coyotes and mountain lion.

"Bet um all!" he announced succinctly.

"See what he's got," Gavin said to Angus, "and we'll cover it."

Angus sorted out the currency. It was in bills of various denominations and various stages of dilapidation. The amount totaled a little over twelve hundred dollars.

"We'll put up a check," said Gerald.

But when this was explained to Paul Sam, he interposed a decided negative. He himself was putting up real, tangible money, that could be handled and counted. Similar money must be put up against it. And when this was procured, with considerable difficulty at that time of night, he would not hear of it being put in the hotel safe, but insisted that Angus should hold it literally.

"Ha-a-lo put um in skook.u.m box," he declared positively. "Me know you.

S'pose you keep money, s'pose me win, me catch um sure. S'pose him put in skook.u.m box, mebbe so me no catch um. You keep um money."

Reluctantly, Angus accepted its custody, but privately he made up his mind to deposit it in the safe as soon as the old Indian had gone. Soon after, Chetwood drew him aside.

"I've a fancy to have a little on the old buster's horse," he announced.

"What do you say?"

"I don't say anything; it's your money."

"Quite so. But what sort of a run do you think I'll get for it?"

"The best the horse has in him, whatever that is."

"Then I've a notion to have a go at it."