The Dude Wrangler

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THE DUDE WRANGLER

by

CAROLINE LOCKHART

Frontispiece by Dudley Glyne Summers

[Illustration: "Wallie swung the frying pan with all his strength ... knocking the six-shooter from Boise Bill's hand as he jumped across the fire at him"]

Garden City, N. Y., And Toronto Doubleday, Page & Company 1921

Copyright, 1921, by Doubleday, Page & Company All Rights Reserved, Including That of Translation into Foreign Languages, Including the Scandinavian

Copyright, 1921, by Street & Smith Corporation

CONTENTS

CHAPTER PAGE

I. The Girl from Wyoming 3 II. "The Happy Family" 10 III. "Pinkey" 18 IV. The Brand of Cain 24 V. "Gentle Annie" 33 VI. "Burning His Bridges" 42 VII. His "Gat" 47 VIII. Neighbours 62 IX. Cutting His Eyeteeth 69 X. The Best Pulling Team in the State 81 XI. Merry Christmas 92 XII. The Water Witch 112 XIII. Wiped Out 131 XIV. Lifting a Cache 142 XV. Collecting a Bad Debt 156 XVI. The Exodus 168 XVII. Counting Their Chickens 176 XVIII. The Millionaires 182 XIX. A Shock for Mr. Canby 196 XX. Wallie Qualifies as a First-Class Hero 207 XXI. "Worman! Worman!" 221 XXII. "Knocking 'Em for a Curve!" 231 XXIII. Rifts 247 XXIV. Hicks the Avenger 261 XXV. "And Just Then----" 301

THE DUDE WRANGLER

CHAPTER I

THE GIRL FROM WYOMING

Conscious that something had disturbed him, Wallie Macpherson raised himself on his elbow in bed to listen. For a full minute he heard nothing unusual: the Atlantic breaking against the sea-wall at the foot of the sloping lawn of The Colonial, the clock striking the hour in the tower of the Court House, and the ripping, tearing, slashing noises like those of a sash-and-blind factory, produced through the long, thin nose of old Mr. Penrose, two doors down the hotel corridor, all sounds to which he was too accustomed to be awakened by them.

While Wallie remained in this posture conjecturing, the door between the room next to him and that of Mr. Penrose was struck smartly several times, and with a vigour to denote that there was temper behind the blows which fell upon it. He had not known that the room was occupied; being considered undesirable on account of the audible slumbers of the old gentleman it was often vacant.

The raps finally awakened even Mr. Penrose, who demanded sharply:

"What are you doing?"

"Hammering with the heel of my slipper," a feminine voice answered.

"What do you want?"

"A chance to sleep."

"Who's stopping you?" crabbedly.

"You're snoring." Indignation gave an edge to the accusation.

"You're impertinent!"

"You're a nuisance!" the voice retorted. Wallie covered his mouth with his hand and hunched his shoulders.

There was a moment's silence while Mr. Penrose seemed to be thinking of a suitable answer. Then:

"It's my privilege to snore if I want to. This is my room--I pay for it!"

"Then this side of the door is mine and I can pound on it, for the same reason."

Mr. Penrose sneered in the darkness: "I suppose you're some sour old maid--you sound like it."

"And no doubt you're a Methuselah with dyspepsia!"

Wallie smote the pillow gleefully--old Mr. Penrose's collection of bottles and boxes and tablets for indigestion were a byword.

"We will see about this in the morning," said Mr. Penrose, significantly. "I have been coming to this hotel for twenty-eight years----"

"It's nothing to boast of," the voice interrupted. "I shouldn't, if I had so little originality."

Mr. Penrose, seeming to realize that the woman would have the last word if the dialogue lasted until morning, ended it with a loud snort of derision.