Bull Hunter

he first place he saw a hope of liberating Reeve from jail and accomplishing his own mission of killing the man. In t

ain would wash away, marks that the first keen sandstorm would rub off-this was his only proof. And with this to free one man fro

ff? How, with his clumsy wits and his clumsy tongue, could he bring the truth to light? Had he possessed the keen eyes of his uncle h

him everything that he did was as clear as day. But how to go to work? If the man were like himself it would be an easy matter. More than once he remembered how his cousins had shifted the blame for their own boyish pranks upon him. In the presence of their

le had said more than once, "is when you wa

Ah, if only he had that keen, embarrassing eye of Bill Campbell with which to pierce to the guilty heart of the sheriff and make him spe

possible solution to Bull Hunter. When it came to him he s

elebration about?" as

e sound of the sheriffs approach. Bull blushed with a sudden sense of shame. Moreover, the sheriff seemed unappr

t back to scratch his thatch of blond hair.

een snooping around, son," he said coldly. "And we fo

exactly figure what you mean." T

aid the sheriff, his own weapon

ing cold formed in his throat, choking him, and he obediently drew his hand away. He

k into its holster. "I guess they ain't much harm in you," he said more to himself th

red them

talk?" aske

said Bull

u? A wanderin' vagrant you look to me, and we got a law agin' vagrants. You amble along on your trail p

submitted. Of one thing he must make sure: that no harm befell him before he faced Pete Reeve and Pete Reeve's gun. Then he could only

Bull wiped it out of his eyes and went on gloomily. He had been trodden upon in spirit once more. But, after all, that was so old a story that it made little difference. It convinced

ody had a look for him except one of contempt. The sheriff, it seemed, had spread a story around about his lack of spirit, and if Bull remained long in the village, he would be treated with little more respect than he had been in the house of his uncle. Even now they he

he picked was sharp-eyed like Uncle Bill Campbell. They were the men whose inlooking eyes would baffle the sh

heriff," he declared. "And I want to have a few important gents around town to

ation was accepted. It was a long time since the hot

first halted near the hotel veranda. To his invitation each of them gave a quick assent. There had been something mysterious in the manner in which t

ters, for the sheriff was a two-gun man of the best variety. He came with the aggressive manner of one ready to beat down all opposition, but when he stepped into the room, his manner changed. For he found sitti

, his face blank. Standing with the light from the lamp shining

oprietor, and he turned to Bull, as i

nod

ng friend yonder says that he's got something to say to you. He's

is overgrown booby needs a horsewhipping, and that

g himself so close to Bull, he made himself appear a trifle ludicrous. Also, if he expected to throw Bull out of the poise with this blustering, he failed. It was not that Bull did not feel fear, but he had seen a curious thi

n. "Gents," he said, "excuse me for getting edgy. B

e-Bull Hunter," sa

place at the far end

stand. "Start in you

t here that's wearing a gun." He had thrown his own belt on a

ant me to take off my guns

s seemed an excellent opening. "Looks to me," he remarked, "like Mr. Hunter was right. He's got somethi

reed with Jud, and the sheriff gave way. He took off his belt and tossed it upon a chair near him. Then he faced Bull again, but he faced the big man with ha

arly, "what you going

nt

little story that I been t

ng!" exclaim

"Let him tell this his own wa

if he had it in a book. As he began to tell it, he forgot Sheriff Anderson at the farther end of the table. He talked

d to thinking. He was remembering how he'd hated Armstrong for a good many years, and that made him think that maybe Armstrong would get into trouble with Reeve, because Reeve is a pret

and listen to this fool t

Bull. "Surely they ain't

d, who had taken the po

ng out to see that no harm come to Armstrong from Reeve. Then he got on his hoss and went out. All the way he was thinking hard. Armstrong was the gent that was

d his long arm toward the sh

heard a

nding in the brush near

you went al

gent going on foot when he mi

" said Bull, and his great voice s

Plainly they were fascinated by this tale, an

r. "You slipped up to the cabin real soft, and you cli

climb over rocks? Why wouldn

didn't want

t the west w

ome close enough to look in without making a noise stepping on the dead wood. So then you went aro

Of course you ain't ri

ated, facing you, and, with his back turned, was Pete Reeve. You said to yourself, 'Drop A

armchair which stood beside

, paler than ever now, "wh

thundered

in his place, the sheriff with staring ey

assurance and knowing that he was betrayed by his pallor

een the marks of them iron

rson was not weighing small points. Into his mind leaped one image-the whiteness of those rocks on which he had stood and the indel

eir wide-eyed interest he read his own damnation. Then

afety under the table. Jud, risking a moment's delay, knocked the chimney off the lamp before he dived. The flame leap

at set him trembling through all of his great body. One touch of trust, one word of encouragement had been enough to make him a giant

even such a bulk as that of Bull Hunter with ease. Yet he caught it up in one hand, weighed it behind his head at the full limit of his extended arm, and then, bending forward, he catapulted the great missil

uns twitch up, silver in the moonshine. They exploded in one voice, as if the flying mass of