"Wal, I reckoned not," assented the other. "An' say --whatever your game is, I ain't likin' the way you kept me waitin' an' ridin' around. We waited near all day at Big Spring. Then thet greaser rode up an' sent us here. We're a long way from camp with no grub an' no blankets""I won't keep you long," said Beasley. "But even if I did you'd not mind -- when I tell you this deal concerns Al Auchincloss -- the man who made an outlaw of you!"Anson's sudden action then seemed a leap of his whole frame.
Wilson, likewise, bent forward eagerly. Beasley glanced at the door -- then began to whisper.
"Old Auchincloss is on his last legs. He's goin' to croak.
He's sent back to Missouri for a niece -- a young girl --an' he means to leave his ranches an' sheep -- all his stock to her. Seems he has no one else. . . . Them ranches -- an' all them sheep an' hosses! You know me an' Al were pardners in sheep-raisin' for years. He swore I cheated him an' he threw me out. An' all these years I've been swearin' he did me dirt -- owed me sheep an' money. I've got as many friends in Pine -- an' all the way down the trail -- as Auchincloss has. . . . An' Snake, see here --"He paused to draw a deep breath and his big hands trembled over the blaze. Anson leaned forward, like a serpent ready to strike, and Jim Wilson was as tense with his divination of the plot at hand.
"See here," panted Beasley. "The girl's due to arrive at Magdalena on the sixteenth. That's a week from to-morrow.
She'll take the stage to Snowdrop, where some of Auchincloss's men will meet her with a team.""A-huh!" grunted Anson as Beasley halted again. "An' what of all thet?""She mustn't never get as far as Snowdrop!"
"You want me to hold up the stage -- an' get the girl?""Exactly."
"Wal -- an' what then?
Make off with her. . . . She disappears. That's your affair.
. . . I'll press my claims on Auchincloss -- hound him --an' be ready when he croaks to take over his property. Then the girl can come back, for all I care. . . . You an' Wilson fix up the deal between you. If you have to let the gang in on it don't give them any hunch as to who an' what. This 'll make you a rich stake. An' providin', when it's paid, you strike for new territory.""Thet might be wise," muttered Snake Anson. "Beasley, the weak point in your game is the uncertainty of life. Old Al is tough. He may fool you.""Auchincloss is a dyin' man," declared Beasley, with such positiveness that it could not be doubted.
"Wal, he sure wasn't plumb hearty when I last seen him. . .
. Beasley, in case I play your game -- how'm I to know that girl?""Her name's Helen Rayner," replied Beasley, eagerly. "She's twenty years old. All of them Auchinclosses was handsome an' they say she's the handsomest."
"A-huh! . . . Beasley, this 's sure a bigger deal -- an' one I ain't fancyin'. . . . But I never doubted your word. . . .
Come on -- an' talk out. What's in it for me?""Don't let any one in on this. You two can hold up the stage. Why, it was never held up. . . . But you want to mask. . . . How about ten thousand sheep -- or what they bring at Phenix in gold?"Jim Wilson whistled low.
"An' leave for new territory?" repeated Snake Anson, under his breath.
"You've said it."
"Wal, I ain't fancyin' the girl end of this deal, but you can count on me. . . . September sixteenth at Magdalena --an' her name's Helen -- an' she's handsome?"
"Yes. My herders will begin drivin' south in about two weeks. Later, if the weather holds good, send me word by one of them an' I'll meet you."Beasley spread his hands once more over the blaze, pulled on his gloves and pulled down his sombrero, and with an abrupt word of parting strode out into the night.
"Jim, what do you make of him?" queried Snake Anson.
"Pard, he's got us beat two ways for Sunday," replied Wilson.
"A-huh! . . . Wal, let's get back to camp." And he led the way out.
Low voices drifted into the cabin, then came snorts of horses and striking hoofs, and after that a steady trot, gradually ceasing. Once more the moan of wind and soft patter of rain filled the forest stillness.