The Man of the Forest | Page 5

and the others, undoubtedly,
composed his gang, long notorious in that sparsely settled country. And
the Beasley mentioned -- he was one of the two biggest ranchers and
sheep-raisers of the White Mountain ranges. What was the meaning of
a rendezvous between Snake Anson and Beasley? Milt Dale answered
that question to Beasley's discredit; and many strange matters
pertaining to sheep and herders, always a mystery to the little village of
Pine, now became as clear as daylight.
Other men entered the cabin.

"It ain't a-goin' to rain much," said one. Then came a crash of wood
thrown to the ground.
"Jim, hyar's a chunk of pine log, dry as punk," said another.
Rustlings and slow footsteps, and then heavy thuds attested to the
probability that Jim was knocking the end of a log upon the ground to
split off a corner whereby a handful of dry splinters could be procured.
"Snake, lemme your pipe, an' I'll hev a fire in a jiffy."
"Wal, I want my terbacco an' I ain't carin' about no fire," replied Snake.
"Reckon you're the meanest cuss in these woods," drawled Jim.
Sharp click of steel on flint -- many times -- and then a sound of hard
blowing and sputtering told of Jim's efforts to start a fire. Presently the
pitchy blackness of the cabin changed; there came a little crackling of
wood and the rustle of flame, and then a steady growing roar.
As it chanced, Dale lay face down upon the floor of the loft, and right
near his eyes there were cracks between the boughs. When the fire
blazed up he was fairly well able to see the men below. The only one
he had ever seen was Jim Wilson, who had been well known at Pine
before Snake Anson had ever been heard of. Jim was the best of a bad
lot, and he had friends among the honest people. It was rumored that he
and Snake did not pull well together.
"Fire feels good," said the burly Moze, who appeared as broad as he
was black-visaged. "Fall's sure a-comin'. . . Now if only we had some
grub!"
"Moze, there's a hunk of deer meat in my saddle-bag, an' if you git it
you can have half," spoke up another voice.
Moze shuffled out with alacrity.
In the firelight Snake Anson's face looked lean and serpent-like, his
eyes glittered, and his long neck and all of his long length carried out

the analogy of his name.
"Snake, what's this here deal with Beasley?" inquired Jim.
"Reckon you'll l'arn when I do," replied the leader. He appeared tired
and thoughtful.
"Ain't we done away with enough of them poor greaser herders -- for
nothin'?" queried the youngest of the gang, a boy in years, whose hard,
bitter lips and hungry eyes somehow set him apart from his comrades.
"You're dead right, Burt -- an' that's my stand," replied the man who
had sent Moze out. "Snake, snow 'll be flyin' round these woods before
long," said Jim Wilson. "Are we goin' to winter down in the Tonto
Basin or over on the Gila?"
"Reckon we'll do some tall ridin' before we strike south," replied Snake,
gruffly.
At the juncture Moze returned.
"Boss, I heerd a hoss comin' up the trail," he said.
Snake rose and stood at the door, listening. Outside the wind moaned
fitfully and scattering raindrops pattered upon the cabin.
"A-huh!" exclaimed Snake, in relief.
Silence ensued then for a moment, at the end of which interval Dale
heard a rapid clip-clop on the rocky trail outside. The men below
shuffled uneasily, but none of them spoke. The fire cracked cheerily.
Snake Anson stepped back from before the door with an action that
expressed both doubt and caution.
The trotting horse had halted out there somewhere.
"Ho there, inside!" called a voice from the darkness.
"Ho yourself!" replied Anson.

"That you, Snake?" quickly followed the query.
"Reckon so," returned Anson, showing himself.
The newcomer entered. He was a large man, wearing a slicker that
shone wet in the firelight. His sombrero, pulled well down, shadowed
his face, so that the upper half of his features might as well have been
masked. He had a black, drooping mustache, and a chin like a rock. A
potential force, matured and powerful, seemed to be wrapped in his
movements.
"Hullo, Snake! Hullo, Wilson!" he said. "I've backed out on the other
deal. Sent for you on -- on another little matter . . . particular private."
Here he indicated with a significant gesture that Snake's men were to
leave the cabin.
"A-huh! ejaculated Anson, dubiously. Then he turned abruptly. Moze,
you an' Shady an' Burt go wait outside. Reckon this ain't the deal I
expected.... An' you can saddle the hosses."
The three members