Читать книгу Six-Gun Gorilla - Anonymous - Страница 13

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Strawhan and his two companions were travelling fast. Fear spurred them on.

"How do you reckon he follows us?" growled Pete Stark.

"He smells us—durn him!" snarled Strawhan. "I'd like to stick his nose in red-hot cinders. He'll wear us down. With revolvers we don't have much chance against him. I wouldn't mind if we had the gold, but we've lost that."

"We know where it is," muttered El Valdo hopefully. "Mebbe we can double back an' find it again."

"No! There's not much chance o' that," growled Strawhan.

The three killers were nearing the top of a high spur of land which gave them a view of the country ahead. This was a bit south of the district where they usually carried out their crimes, and they were not quite sure of the locality. The sight of smoke and of a large cluster of cabins cheered them considerably, however.

"It must be Cripple Creek," muttered Strawhan. "I did hear that Sam Lovey was Sheriff there."

Pete Stark gave a growl of disappointment.

"Then we can't go there. He'll sure recognize us for that Pueblo affair. He was after us for three months, you remember?"

"I remember, an' I bet he hasn't forgotten us. That's why I'm going to put myself under his nose as soon as we arrive," said Tutt Strawhan.

"Are you crazy?" demanded his partners.

"Not likely!" snapped Strawhan. "You know what Sam Lovey will do when he captures us? He'll clap us in the lockup. We'll laugh at him, an' tell him we've pals who'll rescue us within an hour. That'll put him on his guard. He'll sit around with a gun, an' maybe get his deputies to do the same. That's the best thing that can happen to us. When that durn gorilla arrives they'll be ready for him."

"Gee, that's smart!" leered Pete Stark. "When the gorilla is dead we can escape in some way."

"Sure!" grinned Strawhan.

After that the three killers hurried down the long approach to the mining camp.

The streets were quiet when they arrived.

It was a typical mining town. Shacks with false fronts, giving them added height, were on both sides, and there were numerous saloons, gambling dens, and such like places of amusement, for it as an 'open' town, well patronized by men from the neighboring mines.

Tutt Strawhan made no attempt to hide his identity. With his hat on the back of his head and his guns swinging at his hip, he swaggered to the biggest of the saloons.

As he neared the door, a short, brown faced made standing on the steps happened to look up, spotted the newcomers, and nudged his companion. Two pairs of eyes watched the three strangers pass inside, and then the two men ran to the Sheriff's office.

Meanwhile the three gunmen had ordered drinks at the bar. The saloon keeper put the glasses down before them and demanded the payment.

Strawhan produced a gun as quick as lightning, and leveled it across the counter.

"Guess you don't need no payment from me," he snarled. "I'm Tutt Strawhan."

The bartender looked scared. Other men alongside backed away in alarm. Strawhan grabbed his glass and drank the contents at a single gulp.

As he set the glass down something hard was poked in the middle of his spine.

"Drop that gun without turning, Strawhan, or you're a dead man!"

It was the voice of Sheriff Lovey, who had come running at the news that three "wanted" men were in town. With him were three deputies, all with drawn guns.

Tutt Strawhan dropped the gun, turned, and scowled.

"What in the heck do you want?" he demanded.

"You know what I want, Strawhan," snapped the Sheriff. "Little matter of a double shootin' and a saloon robbery up at Pueblo. Better keep those hands high or there's likely to be trouble poppin' around these parts."

The three ruffians managed to look thoroughly disgusted. They were disarmed and herded together. Muttering threats, they were hurried down the main street, followed by a horde of interested men who wanted to lynch them there and then.

Sheriff Lovey kept the crowd at bay with his revolvers.

"They'll get their deserts in good time," he said. "Leave 'em to me, boys!"

Tutt Strawhan glanced anxiously towards the hillside. He fancied he could see a dark brown figure lurching down the trail.

"There's no lockup made strong enough to hold me!" he boasted. "My pals'll get me out of here within an hour."

Sheriff Lovey grinned at the gang leader.

"Thanks for the warning, Strawhan," he said. "When your pals arrive they'll get a dose of lead poisoning."

Strawhan snarled, and some of the deputies pushed him and his two henchmen down a passage into a cell. When the iron door slammed the three killers signed with relief.

They exchanged knowing winks, and seated themselves on the bunk at ease. It was the first time they had been able to relax since the Six-Gun Gorilla had started on their trail. Now they would be well guarded without strain or trouble to themselves.

In the office outside, Sheriff Lovey warned his deputies.

"We've got to be ready for anything," he said. "Rake in a half a dozen reliable men to keep a watch on the jail. Shoot any stranger who looks suspicious."

A cordon of men was placed round the lockup, and the excitement in the town died down.

Time passed. It was dusk, and most of the men had come in from the mines, when the Six-Gun Gorilla came down the trail.

He did not come openly. He kept to the shadows, skulking from tree to tree.

No one saw him reach the edge of the town. There he reared himself to his full height and sniffed.

More men! Cooking! Horses! Oil lamps! Strange smells he could not place! It was difficult to pick out the scent of the three men he wanted.

But he felt sure the three were here.

O'Neil crept down the lines of shacks, standing perfectly still when men passed by. No one saw him, but he saw everyone who went down the street. He watched them keenly, waiting for the familiar figures to appear.

They did not come. Men crowded into the saloons and the gambling dens, and they were so busy that they did not see the terrible face which appeared at the windows.

The Six-Gun Gorilla was making the rounds of all the scenes of nightlife. He studied the faces of the crowds, and strained his ears for the hated voices.

Twice he had to leap on to the roofs of buildings to avoid being seen. Once someone heart him snuffling outside a door, and fired a revolver shot from a window. The man thought it was a stray dog nosing around.

All the evening the Six-Gun Gorilla searched, and his rage grew. He was still convinced that his victims were here. He was determined to find them.

The evening wore on. Some of the men started to go to their shacks for the night. The saloons and gambling dens became quieter. Music boxes and mechanical organs ceased their tinny din.

As the doors were closed and the lights went out in shack after shack, O'Neil emerged from his hiding place.

He had decided to search the town from end to end. He approached the first shack and listened. A lone miner slept there, and it was possible to hear him snoring. The Six-Gun Gorilla found an open window and stuck his head inside.

The gorilla sniffed and was satisfied. This man was not one of the men it wanted. It made for the next cabin, a somewhat larger one.

Two men occupied this. O'Neil tried to find an open window, but there was none. He tried the latch of the door, and it was open. He crept inside.

The two men were in separate bunks. The gorilla bent over one of them, gun in hand. He was satisfied that this was nobody in whom he was interested. He moved to the second bunk. The man was facing the wall.

It so happened that this man was not yet asleep. He heard a slight movement beside him, turned on his back, and saw the gorilla looming over him. He opened his mouth to shriek the alarm, and as quick as sight the gorilla brought the butt of its gun down on the upturned forehead.

The warning cry was never uttered. The Six-Gun Gorilla crept away to search another shack. He was pleased with his discovery that a tap with the gun could make anyone quiet and still. He decided to use it whenever it was needed.

Some shacks were locked, but a steady pressure from the gorilla was always sufficient to burst in the locks. Sometimes this caused the occupants to be roused, but they never had a chance to show fight or to sound the alarm. The Six-Gun Gorilla was amazingly swift in his movements. Any of the men who were dazed with sleep had no chance of dodging before the revolver butt or the gorilla's fist thudded down on their heads. In either case it was the same. They went to sleep again. There were going to be some sore heads in the town the morning following the gorilla's search for its three enemies.

And all the time O'Neil crept from shack to shack, overlooking none, the three ruffians he sought were sleeping comfortably in jail under an armed guard!