diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20044-8.txt | 9836 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20044-8.zip | bin | 0 -> 153344 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20044-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 209316 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20044-h/20044-h.htm | 15402 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20044-h/images/img-front.jpg | bin | 0 -> 50302 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20044.txt | 9836 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 20044.zip | bin | 0 -> 153334 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
10 files changed, 35090 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/20044-8.txt b/20044-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..70ac522 --- /dev/null +++ b/20044-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9836 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Riders of the Silences, by John Frederick, +Illustrated by Frank Tenney Johnson + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Riders of the Silences + + +Author: John Frederick + + + +Release Date: December 7, 2006 [eBook #20044] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RIDERS OF THE SILENCES*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 20044-h.htm or 20044-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/0/4/20044/20044-h/20044-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/0/4/20044/20044-h.zip) + + + + + +RIDERS OF THE SILENCES + +by + +JOHN FREDERICK + +With Frontispiece by Frank Tenney Johnson + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: Each one of them should have ridden alone to be properly +appreciated. To see them together was like watching a flock of eagles.] + + + + +A. L. Burt Company +Publishers -------- New York +Published by arrangement with The H. K. Fly Company +Copyright, 1920, by +The H. K. Fly Company +Copyright, 1920, +The Munsey Co. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I. The Thunderbolt + II. Irene + III. The Launching of The Bolt + IV. The Corner Plot + V. Hurley + VI. Fear + VII. The Voice in The Storm + VIII. Belief + IX. Riders of The Silences + X. The Guard + XI. Jack Grows Up + XII. The Burial + XIII. A Tale of The Sledge + XIV. McGurk + XV. Gold Hair + XVI. Ennui + XVII. Black Gandil + XVIII. Five Minutes' Silence + XIX. Partners + XX. Full Dress + XXI. The Dance + XXII. The Overtone + XXIII. The Fear of The Living + XXIV. The Luck of The Shipwrecked + XXV. Jacqueline Waits + XXVI. A Game of Suppose + XXVII. The Trail + XXVIII. A Hint of White + XXIX. Jack + XXX. The Whisper of The Knife + XXXI. Laughter + XXXII. A Tale of A Careless Man + XXXIII. A Count To Ten + XXXIV. Tiger-Heart + XXXV. Jack Hears a Small Voice + XXXVI. A Voice in The Night + XXXVII. A Man's Death + XXXVIII. The Waiting + XXXIX. The Cross Goes On + + + + +RIDERS OF THE SILENCES + + +CHAPTER I + +THE THUNDERBOLT + +It seemed that Father Anthony gathered all the warmth of the short +northern summer and kept it for winter use, for his good nature was an +actual physical force. From his ruddy face beamed such an ardent +kindliness that people literally reached out towards him as they might +extend their hands toward a comfortable fire. + +All the labors of his work as an Inspector of Jesuit institutions +across the length and breadth of Canada could not lessen the flame of +the good father's enthusiasm; his smile was as indefatigable as his +critical eyes. The one looked sharply into every corner of a room and +every nook and hidden cranny of thoughts and deeds; the other veiled +the criticism and soothed the wounds of vanity. + +On this day, however, the sharp eyes grew a little less keen and +somewhat wider, while that smile was fixed rather by habit than +inclination. In fact, his expression might be called a frozen +kindliness as he looked across the table to Father Victor. + +It required a most indomitable geniality, indeed, to outface the rigid +piety of Jean Paul Victor. His missionary work had carried him far +north, where the cold burns men thin. The eternal frost of the Arctics +lay on his hair, and his starved eyes looked out from hollows shadowed +with blue. He might have posed for a painting of one of those damned +souls whom Dante placed in the frozen circle of the "Inferno." + +It was his own spirit which tortured him--the zeal which drove him +north and north and north over untracked regions, drove him until his +body failed, drove him even now, though his body was crippled. + +A mighty yearning, and a still mightier self-contempt whipped him on, +and the school over which he was master groaned and suffered under his +régime, and the disciples caught his spirit and went out like warriors +in the name of God to spread the faith. + +He despised them as he despised himself, for he said continually in his +heart: "How great is the purpose and how little is our labor!" + +Some such thought as that curled his thin lip as he stared across at +Father Anthony like a wolf that has not eaten for a fortnight. The +good father sustained the gaze, but he shivered a little and sighed. +There was awe, and pity, and even a touch of horror in his eyes. + +He said gently: "Are there none among all your lads, dear Father +Victor, whom you find something more than imperfect machines?" + +The man of the north drew from a pocket of his robe a letter. His +marvelously lean fingers touched it almost with a caress, and when he +spoke the softening which could not appear in the rigid features came +into his voice and made it lower and deeper. + +"One." + +Father Anthony started in astonishment, as one might start to hear a +divine prophet admit a mistake, but being wise he remained silent, +waiting. Jean Paul Victor peered into space. + +"Pierre Ryder. He is like a pleasant summer, and I"--he clasped his +colorless hands--"am frozen--frozen to the heart." + +Still Father Anthony waited, but his eyes were like diamonds for +brightness. + +"He shall carry on my mission in the north. I, who am silent, have +done much; but Pierre sings, and he will do more. I had to fight my +first battle to conquer my own stubborn soul, and the battle left me +weak for the great work in the snows, but Pierre will not fight that +battle, for I have trained him." + +He repeated after a pause: "For those who sing forget themselves and +their weariness. I, Jean Paul Victor, have never sung." + +He bowed his head, submitting to the judgment of God. + +"This letter is for him. Shall we not carry it to him? For two days I +have not seen Pierre." + +Father Anthony winced. + +He said: "Do you deny yourself even the pleasure of the lad's company? +Alas, Father Victor, you forge your own spurs and goad yourself with +your own hands. What harm is there in being often with the lad?" + +The sneer returned to the lips of Jean Paul Victor. + +"The purpose would be lost--lost to my eyes and lost to his--the +purpose for which I have lived and for which he shall live--the purpose +to which you are dedicated, Gabrielle Antoine Anthony." + +He relented in his fierceness, and continued with the strange gentle +note in his voice: "Our love for the young, it is like a vine that +climbs through the branches of a strong tree. When the vine is young +it may be taken away in safety and both the tree and the vine will +live, but if it grows old it will kill the tree when the vine is torn +away. + +"I am the strong tree, and Pierre has grown into my heart. It is time +that he be torn away. He is almost ready. The work is prepared. He +must start forth." + +Even while he announced his purpose the sweat poured out on his +forehead. He rose and paced noiselessly up and down the bare room, his +black robe catching around the long, bony legs. Father Anthony drew a +great breath. At last Jean Paul Victor could speak again. + +"In all the history of our order, there is hardly one man who will go +out armed like Pierre Ryder. He is young, he is strong, he is +fearless, he is pure of heart and single of mind. He has never tasted +wine; he has never looked wrongly on a woman." + +"A prodigy--but it is your work." + +"Mine--all mine!" + +The whole soul of the man stood up in his eyes in a fierce triumph. + +"Hear how I worked. When I first saw him he was a child, a baby, but +he came to me and took one finger of my hand in his small fist and +looked up to me. Ah, Gabrielle the smile of an infant goes to the +heart swifter than the thrust of a knife! I looked down upon him and +thought many things, and I knew that I was chosen to teach the child. +There was a voice that spoke in me. You will smile, but even now I +think I can hear it." + +"I swear to you that I believe," said Father Anthony, and his voice +trembled. + +"Another man would have given Pierre a Bible and a Latin grammar and a +cell. I gave him the testament and the grammar; I gave him also the +wild north country to say his prayers in and patter his Latin. I +taught his mind, but I did not forget his body. + +"He is to go out among wild men. He must have strength of the spirit. +He must also have a strength of the body that they will understand and +respect. How else can he translate for them the truths of the Holy +Spirit? Every day of his life I have made him handle firearms. Other +men think, and aim, and fire; Pierre thinks and shoots, and has +forgotten how to miss. + +"He goes among wild men. These lessons must be learned. He is a +soldier of God. He can ride a horse standing; he can run a hundred +miles in a day behind a dog-team. He can wrestle and fight with his +hands, for I have brought skilled men to teach him. I have made him a +thunderbolt to hurl among the ignorant and the unenlightened; and this +is the hand which shall wield it. Ha!" + +A flash of cold fire came for a single instant in his eyes as he stood +with upturned face. He changed. + +"Yet he is gentle as a woman. He goes out through the villages and +comes back unharmed, and after him come letters from girls and old men +and dames. Even strong men come many miles to see him and they write +to him. He is known. It is now hardly a six month since he saved a +trapper from a bobcat and killed the animal with a knife." + +His heart failed him at the thought, and he murmured: "It must have +been my prayers which saved him from the teeth and the claws." + +Good Father Anthony rose. + +"You have described a young David. I am eager to see him. Let us go." + +"Wait. Before you go you must know that he does not suspect that he +differs from other youths. Women have looked lewdly upon him and +written him letters with singing words, but Pierre being of a simple +nature, he answers them briefly and commends them to God. In fact, the +flattery of women he does not understand, and the flattery of men he +thinks is mere kindliness. Are you prepared to meet him, father?" + +Father Anthony nodded, and the two went out together. The chill of the +open was hardly more than the bitter cold inside the building, but +there was a wind that drove the cold through the blood and bones of a +man. + +They staggered along against it until they came to a small outhouse, +long and low. On the sheltered side of it they paused to take breath, +and Feather Victor explained: "This is his hour in the gymnasium. To +make the body strong required thought and care. Mere riding and +running and swinging of the ax will not develop every muscle. So I +made this gymnasium, and here Pierre works every day. His teachers of +boxing and wrestling have abandoned him." + +There was almost a smile on the lean face. + +"The last man left with a swollen jaw and limping on one leg." + +Conscience-stricken, he stopped short, crossed himself, and then went +on: "So I give him for partners men who have committed small sins. +Their penance is to stand before Pierre and box each day for a few +minutes and then to wrestle against him. They are fierce men, these +woodsmen and trappers, and big of body; but little Pierre, they dread +him like a whip of fire. One and all, they come to me within a +fortnight and beg for an easier penance." + +Here he opened the door, and they slipped inside. The air was warmed +by a big stove, and the room--for the afternoon was dark--lighted by +two swinging lanterns suspended from the low roof. By that +illumination Father Anthony saw two men stripped naked, save for a +loin-cloth, and circling each other slowly in the center of a ring +which was fenced in with ropes and floored with a padded mat. +Certainly Father Victor had spared nothing in expense to make the +fittings of the gymnasium perfect. + +Of the two wrestlers, one was a veritable giant of a Canuck, swarthy of +skin, hairy-chested. His great hands were extended to grasp or to +parry--his head lowered with a ferocious scowl--and across his forehead +swayed a tuft of black, shaggy hair. He might have stood for one of +those northern barbarians whom the Romans loved to pit against their +native champions in the arena. He was the greater because of the +opponent he faced, and it was upon this opponent that the eyes of +Father Anthony centered. + +Like Father Victor, he was caught first by the bright hair. It was a +dark red, and where the light struck it strongly there were places like +fire. Down from this hair the light slipped like running water over a +lithe body, slender at the hips, strong-chested, round and smooth of +limb, with long muscles everywhere leaping and trembling at every move. + +He, like the big Canuck, circled cautiously about, but the impression +he gave was as different from the other as day is from night. His head +was carried high; in place of a scowl, he smiled with a sort of boyish +eagerness, and a light which was partly exultation and partly mischief +sparkled in his eyes. Once or twice the giant caught at the other, but +David slipped from under the grip of Goliath easily. It seemed as if +his skin were oiled. The big man snarled with anger, and lunged more +eagerly at Pierre. Father Anthony caught the shoulder of his friend. + +"Quick!" he whispered anxiously. "Stop them, for if the black fellow +sets his fingers on the boy he will break him like a willow wand, +and--in the name of God, Jean Paul!" + +For the two, abandoning their feints, suddenly rushed together, and the +swarthy arms of the monster slipped around the white body of Pierre. +For a moment they whirled, twisting and struggling. + +"Now!" murmured Father Victor; and as if in answer to a command, Pierre +slipped down, whipped his hands to a new grip, and the two crashed to +the mat, with Pierre above. + +"Open your eyes, Father Anthony. The lad is safe. How Goliath grunts!" + +The boy had not cared to follow his advantage, but rose and danced +away, laughing softly. The Canuck floundered up and rushed like a +furious bull. His downfall was only the swifter. The impact of the +two bodies sounded like hands clapped together, and then Goliath rose +into the air, struggling mightily, and pitched with a thud to the mat. + +He writhed there, for the wind was knocked from his body by the fall. +At length he struggled to a sitting posture and glared up at the +conqueror. The boy reached out a hand to his fallen foe. + +"You would have thrown me that way the first time," he said, "but you +let me change grips on you. In another week you will be too much for +me, _bon ami_." + +The other accepted the hand after an instant of hesitation and was +dragged to his feet. He stood resting one elbow on the gleaming +shoulder of Pierre and looking down into the boy's face with a singular +grin. But there was no triumph in the eye of Pierre--only a +good-natured interest. + +"In another week," answered the giant, "there will not be a sound bone +in my body. This very night I shall go to Father Victor. I had rather +starve for three days in the forest than stand up to you for three +minutes, little brother." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +IRENE + +"You have seen him," murmured the tall priest. "Now let us go back and +wait for him. I will leave word." + +He touched one of the two or three men who were watching the athletes, +and whispered his message in the other's ear. Then he went back with +Father Anthony. + +"You have seen him," he repeated, when they sat once more in the +cheerless room. "Now pronounce on him." + +The other answered: "I have seen a wonderful body--but the mind, Father +Victor?" + +"It is as simple as that of a child--his thoughts run as clear as +spring water." + +"Ah, but they are swift thoughts. Suppose the spring water gathers up +a few stones and rushes on down the side of the mountain. Very soon it +is wearing a deeper channel--then but a little space, and it is a +raging torrent and tears down great trees from its banks and goes +shouting and leaping out toward the sea. + +"Suppose a strange thought came in the mind of your Pierre. It would +be like the pebbles in the swift-running spring water. He would carry +it on, rushing. It would tear away the old boundaries of his mind--it +might wipe out the banks you have set down for him--it might tear away +the choicest teachings." + +Father Victor sat straight and stiff with stern, set lips. + +He said dryly: "Father Anthony has been much in the world." + +"I speak from the best intention, good father. Look you, now, I have +seen that same red hair and those same lighted blue eyes before, and +wherever I have seen them has been war and trouble and unrest. I have +seen that same whimsical smile which stirs the heart of a woman and +makes a man reach for his revolver. This boy whose mind is so +clear--arm him with a single wrong thought, with a single doubt of the +eternal goodness of God's plans, and he will be a thunderbolt indeed, +dear Father, but one which even your strong hand could not control." + +"I have heard you," said the priest; "but you will see. He is coming +now." + +There was a knock at the door; then it opened and showed a modest +novice in a simple gown of black serge girt at the waist with the flat +encircling band. His head was downward; it was not till the blue eyes +flashed inquisitively up that Father Anthony recognized Pierre. + +The hard voice of Jean Paul Victor pronounced: "This is that Father +Anthony of whom I have spoken." + +The novice slipped to his knees and folded his hands. The two priests +exchanged glances, one of triumph and one of wonder, while the plump +fingers of Father Anthony poised over that dark red hair, pressed +smooth on top where the skull-cap rested, and curling somewhat at the +sides. The blessing which he spoke was Latin, and Father Victor looked +somewhat anxiously toward his protégé till the latter answered in a +diction so pure that Cicero himself would have smiled to hear it: + +"Father, I thank thee, and if my mind were as old as thine I might be +able to wish blessings as great as these in return." + +"Stand up!" cried Father Anthony. "By Heavens, Jean Paul, it is the +purest Latin I have heard this twelvemonth." + +And the lad answered: "It must be pure Latin; Father Victor has taught +me." + +Gabrielle Anthony stared, and to save him from too obvious confusion +the other priest interrupted: "I have a letter for you, my son." + +And he passed the envelope to Pierre. The latter examined it with +interest. + +"The writing sprawls like the knees of a boy of ten. What old man has +written to you, Pierre?" + +"No man that I know. This comes from the south. It is marked from the +United States." + +"So far!" exclaimed the tall priest. "Give me the letter, lad." + +But here he caught the whimsical eyes of Father Anthony, and he allowed +his outstretched hand to fall. Yet he scowled as he said: "No; keep it +and read it, Pierre." + +"I have no great wish to keep it," answered Pierre, studying anxiously +the dark brow of the priest. + +"It is yours. Open it and read." + +The lad obeyed instantly. He shook out the folded paper and moved a +little nearer the light. Then he read aloud, as if it had never +entered his mind that what was addressed to him might be meant for his +eyes alone. And as he read he reminded Father Anthony of some childish +chorister pronouncing words beyond his understanding. The tears came +to the eyes of the good father. + +And he said in his heart: "Alas! I have been too much in the world of +men, and now a child can teach me." + +The musical voice of the boy began: + + +"Morgantown, + "R. F. D. No. 4. + +"SON PIERRE: + +"Here I lie with a chunk of lead from the gun of Bob McGurk resting +somewheres in the insides of me, and there ain't no way of doubting +that I'm about to go out. Now, I ain't complaining none. I've had my +fling. I've eat my meat to order, well done and rare--mostly rare. +Maybe some folks will be saying that I've got what I've been asking +for, and I know that Bob McGurk got me fair and square, shooting from +the hip. That don't help me none, lying here with a through ticket to +some place that's farther south than Texas." + + +Pierre lowered the letter and looked gravely upon Father Victor. + +"There are blasphemies coming. Shall I read on?" + +"Yes." + +He began again, a little spot of red coming into either cheek: + + +"Hell ain't none too bad for me, I know. I ain't whining none. I just +lie here and watch the world getting dimmer until I begin to be seeing +things out of my past. That shows the devil ain't losing no time with +me. But the thing that comes back oftenest and hits me the hardest is +the sight of your mother, lying with you in the hollow of her arm and +looking up at me and whispering, 'Dad,' just before she went out." + + +The hand of the boy fell, and his wide eyes sought the face of Father +Victor. The latter was standing. + +"You told me I had no father--" + +An imperious arm stretched toward him. + +"Give me the letter." + +He moved to obey, and then checked himself. + +"This is my father's writing, is it not?" + +"No, no! It's a lie, Pierre!" + +But Pierre stood with the letter held behind his back, and the first +doubt in his life stood up darkly in his eyes. Father Victor sank +slowly back into his chair. All his gaunt frame was trembling. + +"Read on," he commanded. + +And Pierre, white of face, read on: + + +"So I got a idea that I had to write to you, Pierre. There ain't +nothing I can make up to you, but knowing the truth may help some. +Poor kid, you ain't got no father in the eyes of the law, and neither +did you have no mother, and there ain't no name that belongs to you by +rights." + + +Father Anthony veiled his eyes, but the bright starved eyes of Jean +Paul Victor stared on at the reader. His voice was lower now, and the +lips moved slowly, as though numb with cold: + + +I was a man in them days, and your mother was a woman that brought your +heart into your throat and set it singing. She and me, we were too +busy being just plain happy to care much what was right or wrong; so +you just sort of happened along, Pierre. Me being so close to hell, I +remember her eyes that was bluer than heaven looking up to me, and her +hair, that was copper with gold lights in it, ran down across the white +of her shoulder, and even past her side and around you, Pierre, till it +seemed like you was lying in a red river. She being about all in, she +got hold of my hand and looked up to me with them blue eyes I been +talking about, and said 'Dad,' and went out. And I damned near +followed her. + +"I buried Irene on the side of the mountain under a big, rough rock, +and I didn't carve nothing on the rock. Then I took you, Pierre, and I +knew I wasn't no sort of a man to raise up the son of Irene; so I +brought you to Father Victor on a winter night and left you in his +arms. That was after I'd done my best to raise you and you was just +about old enough to chatter a bit. There wasn't nothing else to do. +My wife, she went pretty near crazy when I brought you home. And she'd +of killed you, Pierre, if I hadn't took you away. + +"You see, I was married before I met Irene. So there ain't no alibi +for me. I just acted the hound. But me being so close to hell now, I +look back to that time, and somehow I see no wrong in it still. + +"And if I done wrong then, I've got my share of hell-fire for it. Here +I lie, with my boys, Bill and Bert, sitting around in the corner of the +room waiting for me to go out. They ain't men, Pierre. They're wolves +in the skins of men. They're the right sons of their mother. When I +go out they'll grab the coin I've saved up, and leave me to lie here +and rot, maybe. + +"Lad, it's a fearful thing to die without having no one around that +cares, and to know that even after I've gone out I'm going to lie here +and have my dead eyes looking up at the ceiling. So I'm writing to +you, Pierre, part to tell you what you ought to know; part because I +got a sort of crazy idea that maybe you could get down here to me +before I go out. + +"You don't owe me nothing but hard words, Pierre; but if you don't try +to come to me, the ghost of your mother will follow you all your life, +lad, and you'll be seeing her blue eyes and the red-gold of her hair in +the dark of the night as I see it now. Me, I'm a hard man, but it +breaks my heart, that ghost of Irene. So here I'll lie, waiting for +you, Pierre, and lingering out the days with whisky, and fighting the +wolf eyes of them there sons of mine. If I weaken--If they find they +can look me square in the eye--they'll finish me quick, and make off +with the coin. Pierre, come quick. + +"MARTIN RYDER." + + +The hand of Pierre dropped slowly to his side, and the letter fluttered +with a crisp rustling to the floor. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE LAUNCHING OF THE BOLT + +Then came a voice that startled the two priests, for it seemed that a +fourth man had entered the room, so changed was it from the musical +voice of Pierre. + +"Father Victor, the roan is a strong horse. May I take him?" + +"Pierre!" and the priest reached out his bony hands. + +But the boy did not seem to notice or to understand. + +"It is a long journey, and I will need a strong horse. It must be +eight hundred miles to that town." + +"Pierre, what claim has he upon you? What debt have you to repay?" + +And Pierre le Rouge answered: "He loved my mother." + +He raised his face a little higher and smiled upon them. + +"It is a beautiful name, is it not--Irene?" + +There was no voice from Jean Paul Victor, so he turned to Father +Anthony. + +"It is a charming name, Pierre." + +"I would give my revolver with the pearl handle, and my skates, and the +engraven knife of old Canole just for one glimpse of her." + +"You are going?" + +The boy asked in astonishment: "Would you not have me go, Father?" + +And Jean Paul Victor could not meet the sorrowful blue eyes. + +He bowed his head and answered: "My child, I would have you go. But +promise with your hand in mine that you will come back to me when your +father is buried." + +The lean fingers caught the extended hand of Pierre and froze about it. + +"But first I have a second duty in the southland." + +"A second?" + +"You taught me to shoot and to use a knife. Once you said: 'An eye for +an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.' Father Victor, my father was killed +by another man." + +"Pierre, dear lad, swear to me here on this cross that you will not +raise your hands against the murderer. 'Vengeance is mine, saith the +Lord.'" + +"He must have an instrument for his wrath. He shall work through me in +this." + +"Pierre, you blaspheme." + +"'An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.'" + +"It was a demon in me that quoted that in your hearing, and not myself." + +"The horse, Father Victor--may I have the roan?" + +"Pierre, I command you--" + +The light in the blue eyes was as cold and steady as that in the +starved eyes of Jean Paul Victor. + +"Hush!" he said calmly. "For the sake of the love that I bear for you, +do not command me." + +"Pierre, I have prayed God for you night and morning, and for the sake +of those prayers which are dearer than gold in heaven, stay with me!" + +"Dear Father Victor, you also hope for hands that love you to close +your eyes at the end." + +And the stern priest dropped his head. He said at last: "I have +nothing saving one great and terrible treasure which I see was +predestined to you. It is the cross of Father Meilan. You have worn +it before. You shall wear it hereafter as your own." + +He took from his own neck a silver cross suspended by a slender silver +chain, and the boy, with startled eyes, dropped to his knees and +received the gift. + +"It has brought good to all who possessed it, but for every good thing +that it works for you it will work evil on some other. Great is its +blessing and great is its burden. I, alas, know; but you also have +heard of its history. Do you accept it, Pierre?" + +"Dear Father, with all my heart." + +The colorless hands touched the dark-red hair, and the prophet eyes of +the priest went up. + +"God pardon the sins you shall commit." + +Pierre crushed the hand of Jean Paul Victor against his lips and rushed +from the room, while the tall priest, staring down at the fingers which +had been kissed, pronounced: + +"It is better that he should commit murder with his hands than to slay +in his evil thoughts." + +"Can you resign him like this?" + +"I have forged a thunderbolt. Father Gabrielle, you are a prophet. It +is too great for my hand. Listen!" + +And they heard clearly the sharp clang of a horse's hoofs on the +hard-packed snow, loud at first, but fading rapidly away. The wind, +increasing suddenly, shook the house furiously about them. + +It was a north wind, and traveled south before the rider of the strong +roan. Over a thousand miles of plain and hills it passed, and down +into the cattle country of the mountain-desert which the Rockies hem on +one side and the tall Sierras on the other. + +It was a trail to try even the endurance of Pierre and the strong roan, +but the boy clung to it doggedly. On a trail that led down from the +edges of the northern mountain the roan crashed to the ground in a +plunging fall, hitting heavily on his knees. He was dead before the +boy had freed his feet from the stirrups. + +Pierre threw the saddle over his shoulder and walked eight miles to the +nearest ranchhouse, where he spent practically the last cent of his +money on another horse, and drove on south once more. + +There was little hope in him as day after day slipped past. Only the +ghost of a chance remained that Martin Ryder could fight away death for +another fortnight; yet Pierre had seen many a man from the +mountain-desert stave off the end through weeks and weeks of the +bitterest suffering. His father must be a man of the same hard durable +metal, and upon that Pierre staked all his hopes. + +And always he carried the picture of the dying man alone with his two +wolf-eyed sons who waited for his eyes to weaken. Whenever he thought +of that he touched his horse with the spurs and rode fiercely for a +time. They were his flesh and blood, the man, and even the two +wolf-eyed sons. + +So he came at last to a gap in the hills and looked down on Morgantown +in the hollow, twoscore unpainted houses sprawling along a single +street. The snow was everywhere white and pure, and the town was like +a stain on the landscape with wisps of smoke rising and trailing across +the hilltops. + +Down to the edge of the town he rode, left his cow-pony standing with +hanging head outside a saloon, strode through the swinging doors, and +asked of the bartender the way to the house of Martin Ryder. + +The bartender stopped in his labor of rubbing down the surface of his +bar and stared at the black-serge robe of the stranger, with curiosity +rather than criticism, for women, madmen, and clergymen have the +right-of-way in the mountain-desert. + +He said: "Well, I'll be damned!--askin' your pardon. So old Mart Ryder +has come down to this, eh? Partner, you're sure going to have a rough +ride getting Mart to heaven. Better send a posse along with him, +because some first-class angels are going to get considerable riled +when they sight him coming. Ha, ha, ha! Sure I'll show you the way. +Take the northwest road out of town and go five miles till you see a +broken-backed shack lyin' over to the right. That's Mart Ryder's +place." + +Out to the broken-backed shack rode Pierre le Rouge, Pierre the Red, as +every one in the north country knew him. His second horse, staunch +cow-pony that it was, stumbled on with sagging knees and hanging head, +but Pierre rode upright, at ease, for his mind was untired. + +Broken-backed indeed was the house before which he dismounted. The +roof sagged from end to end, and the stove pipe chimney leaned at a +drunken angle. Nature itself was withered beside that house; before +the door stood a great cottonwood, gashed and scarred by lightning, +with the limbs almost entirely stripped away from one side. Under this +broken monster Pierre stepped and through the door. Two growls like +the snarls of watch-dogs greeted him, and two tall, unshaven men barred +his way. + +Behind them, from the bed in the corner, a feeble voice called: "Who's +there?" + +"In the name of God," said the boy gravely, for he saw a hollow-eyed +specter staring toward him from the bed in the corner, "let me pass! I +am his son!" + +It was not that which made them give back, but a shrill, faint cry of +triumph from the sick man toward which they turned. Pierre slipped +past them and stood above Martin Ryder. He was wasted beyond +belief--only the monster hand showed what he had been. + +"Son?" he queried with yearning and uncertainty. + +"Pierre, your son." + +And he slipped to his knees beside the bed. The heavy hand fell upon +his hair and stroked it. + +"There ain't no ways of doubting it. It's red silk, like the hair of +Irene. Seein' you, boy, it ain't so hard to die. Look up! So! +Pierre, my son! Are you scared of me, boy?" + +"I'm not afraid." + +"Not with them eyes you ain't. Now that you're here, pay the coyotes +and let 'em go off to gnaw the bones." + +He dragged out a small canvas bag from beneath the blankets and +gestured toward the two lurkers in the corner. + +"Take it, and be damned to you!" + +A dirty, yellow hand seized the bag; there was a chortle of exultation, +and the two scurried out of the room. + +"Three weeks they've watched an' waited for me to go out, Pierre. +Three weeks they've waited an' sneaked up to my bed an' sneaked away +agin, seein' my eyes open." + +Looking into their fierce fever brightness, Pierre understood why they +had quailed. For the man, though wrecked beyond hope of living, was +terrible still. The thick, gray stubble on his face could not hide +altogether the hard lines of mouth and jaw, and on the wasted arm the +hand was grotesquely huge. It was horror that widened the eyes of +Pierre as he looked at Martin Ryder; it was a grim happiness that made +his lips almost smile. + +"You've taken holy orders, lad?" + +"No." + +"But the black dress?" + +"I'm only a novice. I've sworn no vows." + +"And you don't hate me--you hold no grudge against me for the sake of +your mother, Pierre?" + +He took the heavy hand. + +"Are you not my father? And my mother was happy with you. For her +sake I love you." + +"The good Father Victor. He sent you to me." + +"I came of my own will. He would not have let me go." + +"He--he would have kept my flesh and blood away from me?" + +"Do not reproach him. He would have kept me from a sin." + +"Sin? By God, boy, no matter what I've done, is it sin for my son to +come to me? What sin?" + +"The sin of murder!" + +"Ha!" + +"I have come to find McGurk." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE CORNER PLOT + +Like some old father-bear watching his cub flash teeth against a +stalking lynx, half proud and half fearful of such courage, so the +dying cattleman looked at his son. Excitement set a high and dangerous +color in his cheek. His eyes were too bright. + +"Pierre--brave boy! Look at me. I ain't no imitation-man, even now, +but I ain't a ghost of what I was. There wasn't no man I wouldn't of +met fair and square with bare hands or with a gun. Maybe my hands was +big, but they were fast on the draw. I've lived all my life with iron +on the hip, and my six-gun has seven notches. + +"But McGurk downed me fair and square. There wasn't no murder. I was +out for his hide, and he knew it. I done the provokin', an' he jest +done the finishin', that was all. It hurts me a lot to say it, but +he's a better man than I was. A kid like you, why, he'd jest eat you, +Pierre." + +Pierre le Rouge smiled again. He felt a stern and aching pride to be +the son of this man. + +"So that's settled," went on Martin Ryder, "an' a damned good thing it +is. Son, you didn't come none too soon. I'm goin' out fast. There +ain't enough light left in me so's I can see my own way. Here's all I +ask: When I die touch my eyelids soft an' draw 'em shut--I've seen the +look in a dead man's eyes. Close 'em, and I know I'll go to sleep an' +have good dreams. And down in the middle of Morgantown is the +buryin'-ground. I've ridden past it a thousand times an' watched a +corner plot, where the grass grows quicker than it does anywheres else +in the cemetery. Pierre, I'd die plumb easy if I knew I was goin' to +sleep the rest of time in that place." + +"It shall be done." + +"But that corner plot, it would cost a pile, son. And I've no money. +I gave what I had to them wolf-eyed boys, Bill an' Bert. Money was +what they wanted, an' after I had Irene's son with me, money was the +cheapest way of gettin' rid of 'em." + +"I'll buy the plot." + +"Have you got that much money, lad?" + +"Yes," lied Pierre calmly. + +The bright eyes grew dimmer and then fluttered close. Pierre started +to his feet, thinking that the end had come. But the voice began +again, fainter, slowly: + +"No light left inside of me, but dyin' this way is easy. There ain't +no wind will blow on me after I'm dead, but I'll be blanketed safe from +head to foot in cool, sweet-smellin' sod--the kind that has tangles of +the roots of grass. There ain't no snow will reach to me where I lie. +There ain't no sun will burn down to me. Dyin' like that is +jest--goin' to sleep." + +After that he said nothing for a time, and the late afternoon darkened +slowly through the room. + +As for Pierre, he did not move, and his mind went back. He did not see +the bearded wreck who lay dying before him, but a picture of Irene, +with the sun lighting her copper hair with places of burning gold, and +a handsome young giant beside her. They rode together on some upland +trail at sunset rime, sharply framed against the bright sky. Their +hands were together; their faces were raised; they laughed, from the +midst of their small heaven. + +There was a whisper below him: "Irene!" + +And Pierre looked down to blankly staring eyes. He groaned, and +dropped to his knees. + +"I have come for you," said the whisper, "because the time has come, +Irene. We have to ride out together. We have a long ways to go. Are +you ready?" + +"Yes," said Pierre. + +"Thank God! It's a wonderful night. The stars are asking us out. +Quick! Into your saddle. Now the spurs. So! We are alone and free, +with the winds around us, and all that we have been forgotten behind +us. Irene, look up with me!" + +The eyes opened wide and stared up; without a stir in the great, gaunt +body he was dead. Pierre drew the eyes reverently shut. There were no +tears in his eyes, but a feeling of hollowness about his heart, and a +great pain. He straightened and looked about him and found that the +room was quite dark. + +So in the dimness Pierre fumbled, by force of habit, at his throat, and +found the cross which he wore by a silver chain about his throat. He +held it in a great grip and closed his eyes and prayed. When he opened +his eyes again it was almost deep night in the room, and Pierre had +passed from youth to manhood. Through the gloom nothing stood out +distinctly save the white face of the dead man, and from that Pierre +looked quickly away. + +One by one he numbered his obligations to Martin Ryder, and first and +last he remembered the lie which had soothed his father. The money for +that corner plot where the grass grew first in the spring of the +year--where was he to find it? He fumbled in his pocket and found only +a single coin. + +He leaned back against the wall and strove to concentrate on the +problem, but his thoughts wandered in spite of himself back to the +snows of Canada, to the letter, to the ride south, the death of the +roan, and so on until he reached his entry to that very room. + +Looking backward, he remembered all things much more clearly than when +he had actually seen them. For instance, he recalled now that as he +walked through the door the two figures which had started up to block +his way had left behind them some playing-cards at the corner table. +One of these cards had slipped from the edge of the board and flickered +slowly to the floor. + +With that memory the thoughts of Pierre le Rouge stopped. The picture +of the falling card remained; all else went out in his mind like the +snuffing of the candle. Then, as if he heard a voice directing him +through the utter blackness of the room, he knew what he must do. + +All his wealth was the single half-dollar piece in his pocket, and +there was only one way in which that coin could be increased to the sum +he would need to buy that corner plot, where the soul of old Martin +Ryder could sleep long and deep. + +From his brothers he would get no help. The least memory of those +sallow, hungry faces convinced him of that. + +There remained the gaming table. In the north country he had watched +men sit in a silent circle, smoking, drinking, with the flare of an +oil-lamp against deep, seamed faces, and only the slip and whisper of +card against card. + +Cold conscience tapped the shoulder of Pierre, remembering the lessons +of Father Victor, but a moment later his head went up and his eyes were +shining through the dark. After all, the end justified the means. It +was typical of him that sorrow sat lightly on him. + +A moment later he was laughing softly as a boy in the midst of a prank, +and busily throwing off the robe of serge. Fumbling through the night +he located the shirt and overalls he had seen hanging from a nail on +the wall. Into these he slipped, leaned to kiss the chill, damp +forehead of the sleeper, and then went out under the open sky. + +The rest had revived the strength of the tough little cow-pony, and he +drove on at a gallop toward the twinkling lights of Morgantown. There +was a new consciousness about Pierre as if he had changed his whole +nature with his clothes. The sober sense of duty which had kept him in +awe all his life like a lifted finger, was almost gone, and in its +place was a joyous freedom. + +For the first time he faintly realized what an existence other than +that of a priest might be. Now for a brief moment he could forget the +part of the subdued novice and become merely a man with nothing about +him to distinguish him from other men, nothing to make heads turn at +his approach and raise whispers as he passed. + +It was a game, but he rejoiced in it as a girl does in her first +masquerade. To-morrow he must be grave and sober-footed and an example +to other men; to-night he could frolic as he pleased. The good Father +Victor would hear and frown, perhaps, but remembering the purpose for +which the thing was done he would forgive. + +So Pierre le Rouge tossed back his head and laughed up to the frosty +stars. The loose sleeves and the skirts of the robe no longer +entangled his limbs. He threw up his arms and shouted. A hillside +caught the sound and echoed it back to him with a wonderful clearness, +and up and down the long ravine beat the clatter of the flying hoofs. +The whole world shouted and laughed and rode with him on Morgantown. + +If the people in the houses that he passed had known they would have +started up from their chairs and taken rifle and horse and after him on +the trail. But how could they tell from the passing of those ringing +hoofs that Pierre, the novice, was dead, and Red Pierre was born? + +So they drowsed on about their comfortable fires, and Pierre drew rein +with a jerk before the largest of Morgantown's saloons. With a hand on +the swinging doors he paused a breathless moment, thinking, doubting, +wondering--and a little cold of heart like the boy who stands on the +bank of the river to take the first plunge in the spring of the year. +He had to set his teeth before he could summon the resolution to throw +open the door. It was done; he stepped inside, and stood blinking in +the sudden rush of light against his face. + +It was all bewildering at first; the radiance, the blue tangle of +smoke, the storm of voices. For Muldoon's was packed from door to +door. Coins rang in a steady chorus along the bar, and the crowd +waited three and four deep. + +Some one was singing a rollicking song of the range at one end of the +bar, and a chorus of four bellowed a profane parody at the other end. + +The ears of Pierre le Rouge tingled hotly, and he lowered his eyes to +the floor. Truly, Father Victor would be very wrath when all this was +confessed. Partly to escape this uproar he worked his way to the +quieter room at the back of the saloon. + +It was almost as crowded as the bar, but here no one spoke except for +an occasional growl. Sudden speaking, and a loud voice, indeed, was +hardly safe. Some one cursed at his ill-luck as Pierre entered, and a +dozen hands reached for six-guns. In such a place one had to be +prepared. + +Pierre remembered with quick dismay that he was not armed. All his +life the straight black gown had been weapon enough to make all men +give way before him. Now he carried no borrowed strength upon his +shoulders. + +Automatically he slipped his fingers under the breast of his shirt +until their tips touched the cold metal of the cross. That gave him +stronger courage. The joy of the adventure made his blood warm again +as he drew out his one coin and looked for a place to start his venture. + +"It is God who governs me," he said, "and why should I doubt Him?" + +So he approached the nearest table. On the surface of it were marked +six squares with chalk, and each with its appropriate number. The man +who ran the game stood behind the table and shook three dice. The +numbers which turned up paid the gambler. The numbers which failed to +show paid the owner of the game. + +His luck had been too strong that night, and now only two men faced +him, and both of them lost persistently. They had passed the stage of +intelligent gaming; they were "bucking" the dice with savage +stubbornness. + +Pierre edged closer, shut his eyes, and deposited his coin. When he +looked again he saw that he had wagered on the five. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +HURLEY + +The dice clattered across the table and were swept up by the hand of +the man behind the table before Pierre could note them. Sick at heart, +he began to turn away, as he saw that hand reach out and gather in the +coins of the other two betters. It went out a third time and laid +another fifty-cent piece upon his. The heart of Pierre bounded up to +his throat. + +Again the dice rolled, and this time he saw distinctly two fives turn +up. Two dollars in silver were dropped upon his, and still he let the +money lie. Again, again, and again the dice rolled. And now there +were pieces of gold among the silver that covered the square of the +five. + +The other two looked askance at him, and the owner of the game growled: +"Gimme room for the coins, stranger, will you?" + +Pierre picked up his winnings. In his left hand he held them, and the +coins brimmed his cupped palm. With the free hand he placed his new +wagers. But he lost now. + +"I cannot win forever," thought Pierre, and redoubled his bets in an +effort to regain the lost ground. + +Still his little fortune dwindled, till the sweat came out on his +forehead and the blood that had flushed his face ran back and left him +pale with dread. And at last there remained only one gold piece. He +hesitated, holding it poised for the wager, while the owner of the game +rattled the dice loudly and looked up at the coin with hungry eyes. + +Once more Pierre closed his eyes and laid his wager, while his empty +left hand slipped again inside his shirt and touched the metal of the +cross, and once more when he opened his eyes the hand of the gambler +was going out to lay a second coin over his. + +"It is the cross!" thought Pierre, and thrilled mightily. "It is the +cross which brings me luck." + +The dice rattled out. He won. Again, and still he won. The gambler +wiped his forehead and looked up anxiously. For these were wagers in +gold, and the doubling stakes were running high. About Pierre a crowd +had grown--a dozen cattlemen who watched the growing heap of gold with +silent fascination. Then they began to make wagers of their own, and +there were faint whispers of wrath and astonishment as the dice clicked +out and each time the winnings of Pierre doubled. + +Suddenly the dealer stopped and held up his left hand as a warning. +With his right, very slowly, inch by inch lest any one should suspect +him of a gun play, he drew out a heavy forty-five and laid it on the +table with the belt of cartridges. + +"Three years she's been on my hip through thick and thin, stranger. +Three years she's shot close an' true. There ain't a butt in the world +that hugs your hand tighter. There ain't a cylinder that spins easier. +Shoot? Lad, even a kid like you could be a killer with that six-gun. +What will you lay ag'in' it?" + +And his red-stained eyes glanced covetously at the yellow heap of +Pierre's money. + +"How much?" said Pierre eagerly. "Is there enough on the table to buy +the gun?" + +"Buy?" said the other fiercely. "There ain't enough coin west of the +Rockies to buy that gun. D'you think I'm yaller hound enough to sell +my six? No, but I'll risk it in a fair bet. There ain't no disgrace +in that; eh, pals?" + +There was a chorus of low grunts of assent. + +"All right," said Pierre. "That pile against the gun." + +"All of it?" + +"All." + +"Look here, kid, if you're tryin' to play a charity game with me--" + +"Charity?" + +The direct, frank surprise of that look disarmed the other. He swept +up the dice-box, and shook it furiously, while his lips stirred. It +was as if he murmured an incantation for success. The dice rolled out, +winking in the light, spun over, and the owner of the gun stood with +both hands braced against the edge of the table, and stared hopelessly +down. + +A moment before his pockets had sagged with a precious weight, and +there had been a significant drag of the belt over his right hip. Now +both burdens were gone. + +He looked up with a short laugh. + +"I'm dry. Who'll stake me to a drink?" + +Pierre scooped up a dozen pieces of the gold. + +"Here." + +The other drew back. + +"You're very welcome to it. Here's more, if you'll have it." + +"The coin I've lost to you? Take back a gamblin' debt?" + +"Easy there," said one of the men. "Don't you see the kid's green? +Here's a five-spot." + +The loser accepted the coin as carelessly as if he were conferring a +favor by taking it, cast another scowl in the direction of Pierre, and +went out toward the bar. Pierre, very hot in the face, pocketed his +winnings and belted on the gun. It hung low on his thigh, just in easy +gripping distance of his hand, and he fingered the butt with a smile. + +"The kid's feelin' most a man," remarked a sarcastic voice. "Say, kid, +why don't you try your luck with Mac Hurley? He's almost through with +poor, old Cochrane." + +Following the direction of the pointing finger, Pierre saw one of those +mute tragedies of the gambling hall. Cochrane, an old cattleman whose +carefully trimmed, pointed white beard and slender, tapering fingers +set him apart from the others in the room, was rather far gone with +liquor. He was still stiffly erect in his chair, and would be till the +very moment consciousness left him, but his eyes were misty, and when +he spoke the fine-cut lips moved slowly, as though numbed by cold. + +Beside him stood a tall, black bottle with a little whisky glass to +flank it. He made his bets with apparent carelessness, but with a real +and deepening gloom. Once or twice he glanced up sharply as though +reckoning his losses, though it seemed to Pierre le Rouge almost like +an appeal. + +And what appeal could affect Mac Hurley? There was no color in the +man, either body or soul. No emotion could show in those pale, small +eyes or change the color of the flabby cheeks. If his hands had been +cut off he might have seemed some sodden victim of a drug habit, but +the hands saved him. + +They seemed to belong to another body--beautiful, swift, and strong, +and grafted by some foul mischance onto this rotten hulk. Very white +they were, and long, with a nervous uneasiness in every motion, +continually hovering around the cards with little touches which were +almost caresses. + +"It ain't a game," said the man who had first pointed out the group to +Pierre, "it's just a slaughter. Cochrane's too far gone to see +straight. Look at that deal now! A kid could see that he's crooking +the cards!" + +It was Blackjack, and Hurley, as usual, was dealing. He dealt with one +hand, flipping the cards out with a snap of the wrist, the fingers +working rapidly over the pack. Now and then he glanced over to the +crowd, as if to enjoy their admiration of his skill. He was showing it +now, not so much by the deftness of his cheating as by the openness +with which he exposed his tricks. + +As the stranger remarked to Pierre, a child could have discovered that +the cards were being dealt at will from the top and the bottom of the +pack, but the gambler was enjoying himself by keeping his game just +open enough to be apparent to every other man in the room--just covert +enough to deceive the drink-misted brain of Cochrane. And the pale, +swinish eyes twinkled as they stared across at the dull sorrow of the +old man. There was an ominous sound from Pierre: + +"Do you let a thing like that happen in this country?" he asked +fiercely. + +The other turned to him with a sneer. + +"_Let_ it happen? Who'll stop him? Say, partner, you ain't meanin' to +say that you don't know who Hurley is?" + +"I don't need telling. I can see." + +"What you can't see means a lot more than what you can. I've been in +the same room when Hurley worked his gun once. It wasn't any killin', +but it was the prettiest bit of cheatin' I ever seen. But even if +Hurley wasn't enough, what about Carl Diaz?" + +He glared his triumph at Pierre, but the latter was too puzzled to +quail, and too stirred by the pale, gloomy face of Cochrane to turn +toward the other. + +"What of Diaz?" + +"Look here, boy. You're a kid, all right, but you ain't that young. +D'you mean to say that you ain't heard of Carlos Diaz?" + +It came back to Pierre then, for even into the snow-bound seclusion of +the north country the shadow of the name of Diaz had gone. He could +not remember just what they were, but he seemed to recollect grim tales +through which that name figured. + +The other went on: "But if you ain't ever seen him before, look him +over now. They's some says he's faster on the draw than Bob McGurk, +but, of course, that's stretchin' him out a size too much. What's the +matter, kid; you've met McGurk?" + +"No, but I'm going to." + +"Might even be carried to him, eh--feet first?" + +Pierre turned and laid a hand on the shoulder of the other. + +"Don't talk like that," he said gently. "I don't like it." + +The other reached up to snatch the hand from his shoulder, but he +stayed his arm. + +He said after an uncomfortable moment of that silent staring: "Well, +partner, there ain't a hell of a lot to get sore over, is there? You +don't figure you're a mate for McGurk, do you?" + +He seemed oddly relieved when the eyes of Pierre moved away from him +and returned to the figure of Carlos Diaz. The Mexican was a perfect +model for a painting of a melodramatic villain. He had waxed and +twirled the end of his black mustache so that it thrust out a little +spur on either side of his long face. His habitual expression was a +scowl; his habitual position was with a cigarette in the fingers of his +left hand, and his right hand resting on his hip. + +He sat in a chair directly behind that of Hurley, and Pierre's +new-found acquaintance explained: + +"He's the bodyguard for Hurley. Maybe there's some who could down +Hurley in a straight gun fight; maybe there's one or two like McGurk +that could down Diaz--damn his yellow hide--but there ain't no one can +buck the two of 'em. It ain't in reason. So they play the game +together. Hurley works the cards and Diaz covers up the retreat. +Can't beat that, can you?" + +Pierre le Rouge slipped his left hand once more Inside his shirt until +the fingers touched the cross. + +"Nevertheless, that game has to stop." + +"Who'll--say, kid, are you stringin' me, or are you drunk? Look me in +the eye!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +FEAR + +Pierre turned and looked calmly upon the other. + +And the man whispered in a sort of awe: "Well, I'll be damned!" + +"Stand aside!" + +The other fell back a pace, and Pierre went straight to the table and +said to Cochrane: "Sir, I have come to take you home." + +The old man looked up and rubbed his eyes as though waking from a sleep. + +"Stand back from the table!" warned Hurley. + +"By the Lord, have they been missing me?" queried old Cochrane. + +"You are waited for," answered Pierre le Rouge, "and I've been sent to +take you home." + +"If that's the case--" + +"It ain't the case. The kid's lying." + +"Lying?" repeated Cochrane, as if he had never heard the word before, +and he peered with clearing eyes toward Pierre. "No, I think this boy +has never lied." + +Silence had spread through the place like a vapor. Even the slight +sounds in the gaming-room were done now, and one pair after another of +eyes swung toward the table of Cochrane and Hurley. The wave of the +silence reached to the barroom. No one could have carried the tidings +so soon, but the air was surcharged with the consciousness of an +impending crisis. + +Half a dozen men started to make their way on tiptoe toward the back +room. One stood with his whisky glass suspended in mid air, and tilted +back his head to listen. In the gaming-room Hurley pushed back his +chair and leaned to the left, giving him a free sweep for his right +hand. The Mexican smiled with a slow and deep content. + +"Thank you," answered Pierre, "but I am waiting still, sir." + +The left hand of Hurley played impatiently on the table. + +He said: "Of course, if you have enough--" + +"I--enough?" flared the old aristocrat. + +Pierre le Rouge turned fairly upon Hurley. + +"In the name of God," he said calmly, and God on his lips was as gentle +as music, "make an end of your game. You're playing for money, but I +think this man is playing for his eternal soul." + +The solemn, bookish phraseology came smoothly from his tongue. He knew +no other. It drew a murmur of amusement from the room and a snarl from +Hurley. + +"Put on skirts, kid, and join the Salvation Army, but don't get +yourself messed all up in here. This is my party, and I'm damned +particular who I invite! Now, run along!" + +The head of Pierre tilted back, and he burst into laughter which +troubled even Hurley. + +The gambler blurted: "What's happening to you, kid?" + +"I've been making a lot of good resolutions, Mr. Hurley, about keeping +out of trouble; but here I am in it up to the neck." + +"No trouble as long as you keep your hand out of another man's game, +kid." + +"That's it. I can't see you rob Mr. Cochrane like this. You aren't +gambling--you're digging gold. The game stops now." + +It was a moment before the crowd realized what was about to happen; +they saw it reflected first in the face of Hurley, which suddenly went +taut and pale, and then, even as they looked with a smile of curiosity +and derision toward Pierre le Rouge, they saw and understood. + +For the moment Pierre said, "The game stops now," the calm which had +been with him was gone. It was like the scent of blood to the starved +wolf. The last word was scarcely off his tongue when he was crouched +with a devil of green fury in his eyes--the light struck his hair into +a wave of flame--his face altered by a dozen ugly years. + +"D'you mean?" whispered Hurley, as if he feared to break the silence +with his full voice. + +"Get out of the room." + +And the impulse of Hurley, plainly enough, was to obey the order, and +go anywhere to escape from that relentless stare. His glance wavered +and flashed around the circle and then back to Red Pierre, for the +expectancy and the alertness of all the crowd forced him back. + +When the leader of the pack springs and fails to kill, the rest of the +pack tear him to pieces. Remembering this, Mac Hurley forced his +glance back to Pierre. Moreover, there was a soft voice from behind, +and he remembered Diaz. + +All this had taken place in the length of time that it takes a heavy +body to totter on the brink of a precipice or a cat to regain its feet +after a fall. After the voice of Diaz there was a sway through the +room, a pulse of silence, and then three hands shot for their +hips--Pierre, Diaz, and Hurley. + +No stop-watch could have caught the differing lengths of time which +each required for the draw. The muzzle of Hurley's revolver was not +clear of the holster--the gun of Diaz was nearly at the level when +Pierre's weapon exploded at his hip. The bullet cut through the wrist +of Hurley. Never again would that slender, supple hand fly over the +cards, doing things other than they seemed. He made no effort to +escape from the next bullet, but stood looking down at his broken +wrist; horror for the moment gave him a dignity oddly out of place with +his usual appearance. He alone in all the room was moveless. + +The crowd, undecided for an instant, broke for the doors at the first +shot; Pierre le Rouge, pitched to the floor as Diaz leaped forward, the +revolver in either hand spitting lead and fire. + +It was no bullet that downed Pierre but his own cunning. He broke his +fall with an outstretched left hand, while the bullets of Diaz pumped +into the void space which his body had filled a moment before. + +Lying there at ease, he leveled the revolver, grinning with the +mirthless lust of battle, and fired over the top of the table. The +guns dropped from the hands of huge Diaz. He caught at his throat and +staggered back the full length of the room, crashing against the wall. +When he pitched forward on his face he was dead before he struck the +floor. + +Pierre, now Red Pierre, indeed, rose and ran to the fallen man, and, +looking at the bulk of the giant, he wondered with a cold heart. He +knew before he slipped his hand over the breast of Diaz that this was +death. Then he rose again and watched the still fingers which seemed +to be gripping at the boards. + +These he saw, and nothing else, and all he heard was the rattling of +the wind of winter, wrenching at some loose shingle on the roof, and he +knew that he was alone in the world, for he had put out a life. + +He found a strange weight pulling down his right hand, and started when +he saw the revolver. He replaced it in the holster automatically, and +in so doing touched the barrel and found it warm. + +Then fear came to Pierre, the first real fear of his life. He jerked +his head high and looked about him. The room was utterly empty. He +tiptoed to the door and found even the long bar deserted, littered with +tall bottles and overturned glasses. The cold in his heart increased. +A moment before he had been hand in hand with all the mirth in that +place. + +Now the men whose laughter he had repeated with smiles, the men against +whose sleeves his elbow had touched, were further away from him than +they had been when all the snow-covered miles from Morgantown to the +school of Father Victor had laid between them. They were men who might +lose themselves in any crowd, but he was set apart with a brand, even +as Hurley and Diaz had been set apart that eventful evening. + +He had killed a man. That fact blotted out the world. He drew his gun +again and stole down the length of the bar. Once he stopped and poised +the weapon before he realized that the white, fierce face that squinted +at him was his own reflection in a mirror. + +Outside the door the free wind caught at his face, and he blessed it in +his heart, as if it had been the touch of the hand of a friend. Beyond +the long, dark, silent street the moon rose and passed up through the +safe, dark spaces of the sky. + +He must move quickly now. The pursuit was not yet organized, but it +would begin in a space of minutes. From the group of half a dozen +horses which stood before the saloon he selected the best--a tall, +raw-boned nag with an ugly head. Into the saddle he swung, wondering +faintly that the theft of a horse mattered so little to him. His was +the greatest sin. All other things mattered nothing. + +Down the long street he galloped. The sharp echoes flew out at him +from every unlighted house, but not a human being was in sight. So he +swung out onto the long road which wound up through the hills, and +beside him rode a grim brotherhood, the invisible fellowship of Cain. + +The moon rose higher, brighter, and a grotesque black shadow galloped +over the snow beside him. He turned his head sharply to the other side +and watched the sweep of white hills which reached back in range after +range until they blended with the shadows of night. + +The road faded to a bridle path, and this in turn he lost among the +windings of the valley. He was lost from even the traces of men, and +yet the fear of men pursued him. Fear, and yet with it there was a +thrill of happiness, for every swinging stride of the tall, wild roan +carried him deeper into freedom, the unutterable fierce freedom of the +hunted. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE VOICE IN THE STORM + +All life was tame compared with this sudden awakening of Pierre, for +his whole being burst into flower, his whole nature opened. He had +killed a man. For fear of it he raced the tall roan furiously through +the night. + +He had killed a man. For the joy of it his head was high, he shouted a +song that went ringing across the blank, white hills. What place was +there in Red Pierre for solemn qualms of conscience? Had he not met +the first and last test triumphantly? The oldest instinct in creation +was satisfied in him. Now he stood ready to say to all the world: +Behold, a man! + +Let it be remembered that his early years had been passed in a dull, +dun silence, and time had slipped by him with softly padding, +uneventful hours. Now, with the rope of restraint snapped, he rode at +the world with hands, palm upward, asking for life, and that life which +lies under the hills of the mountain-desert heard his question and sent +a cold, sharp echo back to answer his lusty singing. + +The first answer, as he plunged on, not knowing where, and not caring, +was when the roan reeled suddenly and flung forward to the ground. +Even that violent stop did not unseat Red Pierre. He jerked up on the +reins with a curse and drove in the spurs. Valiantly the horse reared +his shoulders up, but when he strove to rise the right foreleg dangled +helplessly. He had stepped in some hole and the bone was broken +cleanly across. + +The rider slipped from the saddle and stood facing the roan, which +pricked its ears forward and struggled once more to regain its feet. +The effort was hopeless, and Pierre took the broken leg and felt the +rough edges of the splintered bone through the skin. The animal, as if +it sensed that the man was trying to do it some good, nosed his +shoulder and whinnied softly. + +Pierre stepped back and drew his revolver. The bullet would do quickly +what the cold would accomplish after lingering hours of torture, yet, +facing those pricking ears and the brave trust of the eyes, he was +blinded by a mist and could not aim. He had to place the muzzle of the +gun against the roan's temple and pull the trigger. When he turned his +back he was the only living thing within the white arms of the hills. + +Yet, when the next hill was behind him, he had already forgotten the +second life which he put out that night, for regret is the one sorrow +which never dodges the footsteps of the hunted. Like all his +brotherhood of Cain, Pierre le Rouge pressed forward across the +mountain-desert with his face turned toward the brave to-morrow. In +the evening of his life, if he should live to that time, he would walk +and talk with God. + +Now he had no mind save for the bright day coming. + +He had been riding with the wind and had scarcely noticed its violence +in his headlong course. Now he felt it whipping sharply at his back +and increasing with each step. Overhead the sky was clear, pitilessly +clear. It seemed to give vision for the wind and cold to seek him out, +and the moon made his following shadow long and black across the snow. + +The wind quickened rapidly to a gale that cut off the surface of the +snow and whipped volleys of the small particles level with the surface. +It cut the neck of Red Pierre, and the gusts struck his shoulders with +staggering force like separate blows, twisting him a little from side +to side. + +Coming from the direction of Morgantown, it seemed as if the vengeance +for Diaz was following the slayer. Once he turned and laughed hard and +short in the teeth of the wind, and shook his fist back at Morgantown +and all the avenging powers of the law. + +Yet he was glad to turn away from the face of the storm and stride on +down-wind. Even traveling with the gale grew more and more impossible. +The snowdrifts which the wind picked up and hurried across the hills +pressed against Pierre's back like a great, invisible hand, bowing him +as if beneath a burden. In the hollows the labor was not so great, but +when he approached a summit the gale screamed in his ear and struck him +savagely. + +For all his optimism, for all his young, undrained strength, a doubt +began to grow in the mind of Pierre le Rouge. At length, remembering +how that weight of gold came in his pockets, he slipped his left hand +into the bosom of his shirt and touched the icy metal of the cross. +Almost at once he heard, or thought he heard, a faint, sweet sound of +singing. + +The heart of Red Pierre stopped. For he knew the visions which came to +men perishing with cold; but he grew calmer again in a moment. This +touch of cold was nothing compared with whole months of hard exposure +which he had endured in the northland. It had not the edge. If it +were not for the wind it was scarcely a threat to life. Moreover, the +singing sounded no more. It had been hardly more than a phrase of +music, and it must have been a deceptive murmur of the wind. + +After all, a gale brought wilder deceptions than that. Some men had +actually heard voices declaiming words in such a wind. He himself had +heard them tell their stories. So he leaned forward again and gave his +stanch heart to the task. Yet once more he stopped, for this time the +singing came clearly, sweetly to him. + +There was no doubt of it now. Of course it was wildly impossible, +absurd; but beyond all question he heard the voice of a woman, high and +tender, come whistling down the wind. He could almost catch the words. +For a little moment he lingered still. Then he turned and fought his +way into the strong arms of the storm. + +Every now and then he paused and crouched to the snow. Usually there +was only the shriek of the wind in his ears, but a few times the +singing came to him and urged him on. If he had allowed the idea of +failure to enter his mind, he must have given up the struggle, but +failure was a stranger to his thoughts. + +He lowered his head against the storm. Sometimes it caught under him +and nearly lifted him from his feet. But he clung against the slope of +the hill, sometimes gripping hard with his hands. So he worked his way +to the right, the sound of the singing coming more and more frequently +and louder and louder. When he was almost upon the source of the music +it ceased abruptly. + +He waited a moment, but no sound came. He struggled forward a few more +yards and pitched down exhausted, panting. Still he heard the singing +no longer. With a falling heart he rose and resigned himself to wander +on his original course with the wind, but as he started he placed his +hand once more against the cross, and it was then that he saw her. + +For he had simply gone past her, and the yelling of the storm had cut +off the sound of her voice. Now he saw her lying, a spot of bright +color on the snow. He read the story at a glance. As she passed this +steep-sided hill the loosely piled snow had slid down and carried with +it the dead trunk of a fallen tree. + +Pierre came from behind and stood over her unnoticed. He saw that the +oncoming tree, by a strange chance, had knocked down the girl and +pinned her legs to the ground. His strength and the strength of a +dozen men would not be sufficient to release her. This he saw at the +first glance, and saw the bright gold of her hair against the snow. +Then he dropped on his knees beside her. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +BELIEF + +The girl tossed up her arms in a silent ecstasy, and Pierre caught the +small cold hands and saw that she was only a child of twelve or +fourteen, lovely as only a child can be, and still more beautiful with +the wild storm sweeping over her and the waste of snow around them. + +He crouched lower still, and when he did so the strength of the wind +against his face decreased wonderfully, for the sharp angle of the +hill's declivity protected them. Seeing him kneel there, helpless with +wonder, she cried out with a little wail: "Help me--the tree--help me!" +And, bursting into a passion of sobbing, she tugged her hands from his +and covered her face. + +Pierre placed his shoulder under the trunk and lifted till the muscles +of his back snapped and cracked. He could not budge the weight; he +could not even send a tremor through the mass of wood; He dropped back +beside her with a groan. He felt her eyes upon him; she had ceased her +sobs, and looked steadily, gravely, into his face. + +It would have been easy for him to meet that look on the morning of +this day, but after that night's work in Morgantown he had to brace his +nerve mightily to withstand it. + +She said: "You can't budge the tree?" + +"Yes--in a minute; I will try again." + +"You'll only hurt yourself for nothing. I saw how you strained at it." + +The greatest miracle he had ever seen was her calm. Her eyes were wide +and sorrowful indeed, but she was almost smiling up to him. + +After a while he was able to say, in a faint, small voice: "Are you +very cold?" + +She answered: "I'm not afraid. But if you stay longer with me, you may +freeze. The snow and even the tree help to keep me almost warm; but +you will freeze. Go for help; hurry, and if you can, send it back to +me." + +He thought of the long miles back to Morgantown; no human being could +walk that distance against this wind; not even a strong horse could +make its way through the storm. If he went on with the wind, how long +would it be before he reached a house? Before him, over range after +range of hills, he saw no single sign of a building. If he reached +some such place it would be the same story as the trip to Morgantown; +men simply could not beat a way against that wind. + +Then a cold hand touched his, and he looked up to find her eyes grave +and wide once more, and her lips half smiling, as if she strove to +deceive him. + +"There's no chance of bringing help?" + +He merely stared hungrily at her, and the loveliest thing he had ever +seen was the play of golden hair beside her cheek. Her smile went out. +She withdrew her hand, but she repeated: + +"I'm not afraid. I'll simply grow numb and then fall asleep. But you +go on and save yourself." + +Seeing him shake his head, she caught his hands again, and so strongly +that the chill of her touch filled his veins with an icy fire. + +"I'll be unhappy. You'll make me so unhappy if you stay. Please go." + +He raised the small, white hand and pressed it to his lips. + +She said: "You are crying!" + +"No, no!" + +"There! I see the tears shining on my hand. What is your name?" + +"Pierre." + +"Pierre? I like that name. Pierre, to make me happy, will you go? +Your face is all white and touched with a shadow of blue. It is the +cold. Oh, won't you go?" Then she pleaded, finding him obdurate: "If +you won't go for me, then go for your father." + +He raised his head with a sudden laughter, and, raising it, the wind +beat into his face fiercely and the particles of snow whipped his skin. + +"Dear Pierre, then for your mother?" + +He bowed his head. + +"Not for all the people who love you and wait for you now by some warm +fire--some cozy fire, all yellow and bright?" + +He took her hands and with them covered his eyes. + +"Listen: I have no father; I have no mother." + +"Pierre! Oh, Pierre, I'm sorry!" + +"And for the rest of 'em, I've killed a man. The whole world hates me; +the whole world's hunting me." + +The small hands tugged away. He dared not raise his bowed and +miserable head for fear of her eyes. And then the hands came back to +him and touched his face. + +She was saying tremulously: "Then he deserved to be killed. There must +be men like that--almost. And I--like you still, Pierre." + +"Really?" + +"I almost think I like you more--because you could kill a man--and then +stay here for me." + +"If you were a grown-up girl, do you know what I'd say?" + +"Please tell me." + +"That I could love you." + +"Pierre--" + +"Yes." + +"My name is Mary Brown." + +He repeated several times: "Mary." + +"And if I were a grown-up girl, do you know what I would answer?" + +"I don't dare guess it." + +"That I could love you, Pierre, if you were a grown-up man." + +"But I am." + +"Not a really one." + +And they both broke into laughter--happy laughter that died out before +a sound of rushing and of thunder, as a mass slid swiftly past them, +snow and mud and sand and rubble. The wind fell away from them, and +when Pierre looked up he saw that a great mass of tumbled rock and soil +loomed above them. + +The landslide had not touched them, by some miracle, but in a moment +more it might shake loose again, and all that mass of ton upon ton of +stone and loam would overwhelm them. The whole mass quaked and +trembled and trembled, and the very hillside shuddered beneath them. + +She looked up and saw the coming ruin; but her cry was for him, not +herself. + +"Run, Pierre--you can save yourself." + +With that terror threatening him from above, he rose and started to run +down the hill. A moan of woe followed him, and he stopped and turned +back, and fought his way through the wind until he was beside her once +more. + +She was wringing the white, cold hands and weeping: + +"Pierre--I couldn't help it--but when you left me the whole world went +out, and my heart broke. I couldn't help calling out for you; but now +I'm strong again, and I won't have you stay. The whole mountain is +shaking and falling toward us. Go now, Pierre, and I'll never make a +sound to bring you back." + +He said: "Hush! I've something here which will keep us both safe. +Look!" + +He tore from the chain which held it at his throat the little metal +cross, and held it high overhead, glimmering in the pallid light. She +forgot her fear in wonder. + +"I gambled with only one coin to lose, and I came out to-night with +hundreds and hundreds of dollars because I had the cross. It is a +charm against all danger and against all bad fortune. It has never +failed me." + +Over them the piled mass slid closer. The forehead of Pierre gleamed +with sweat, but a strong purpose made him talk on. At least he could +take all the foreboding of death from the child, and when the end came +it would be swift and wipe them both out at one stroke. She clung to +him, eager to believe. + +"I've closed my eyes so that I can believe." + +"It has never failed me. It saved me once when I fought a big bobcat +with only a knife. It saved me again when I fought two men. Both of +them were famous fighters, but neither of them had the cross. One of +them I crippled and the other died. You see, the power of the cross is +as great as that. Do you doubt it now, Mary?" + +"Do you believe in it so much--really--Pierre?" + +Each time there was a little lowering of her voice, a little pause and +caress in the tone as she uttered his name, and nothing in all his life +had stirred Red Pierre so deeply with happiness and sorrow. + +"Do you believe, Pierre?" she repeated. + +He looked up and saw the shuddering mass of the landslide creeping upon +them inch by inch. In another moment it would loose itself with a rush +and cover them. + +"I believe," he said. + +"If you should live, and I should die--" + +"I would throw the cross away." + +"No, you would keep it; and every time it touched cold against your +breast you would think of me, Pierre, would you not?" + +"When you reach out to me like that, you sort of take my heart between +your hands." + +"And when you look at me like that I feel grown-up and sad and happy +both together. But, listen, Pierre, I know why I cannot die now. God +means us to be so happy together, doesn't He? Because after we've been +together on such a night, how can we ever be apart again?" + +The mass of the landslide toppled right above them. She did not seem +to see. + +"Of course we never can be." + +"But we'll be like a brother and sister and something more." + +"And something more, Mary." + +She clapped her hands and laughed. The laughter hurt him more than her +sobbing, for as she lay wrapped in her thick furs, even the pale, cold +light could not make her pallid. + +The blowing hair was as warm as yellow sunshine to the heart of Pierre +le Rouge, and the color of her cheeks was as dear to him as the early +flowers of spring in the northland. + +"I'm so happy, Pierre. I was never so happy." + +And he said, with his eyes on the approaching ruin: + +"It was your singing that brought me to you. Will you sing again?" + +"I sang because I knew that when I sang the sound would carry farther +through the wind than if I called for help. What shall I sing for you +now, Pierre?" + +"What you sang when I came to you." + +And the light, sweet voice rose easily through the sweep of the wind. +She smiled as she sang, and the smile and music were all for Pierre, he +knew, and all the pathos of the climax was for him; but through the +last stanza of the song the rumble of the approaching death grew +louder, and as she ended he threw himself beside her and gathered her +into protecting arms. + +She cried: "Pierre! What is it?" + +"I must keep you warm; the snow will eat away your strength." + +"No; it's more than that. Tell me, Pierre! You don't trust the power +of the cross?" + +"Are you afraid?" + +"Oh, no; I'm not afraid, Pierre." + +"If one life would be enough, I'd give mine a thousand times. Mary, we +are to die." + +A small arm slipped around his neck--a cold hand pressed against his +cheek. + +"Pierre." + +"Yes." + +The thunder broke above them with a mighty roaring. + +"You have no fear." + +"Mary, if I had died alone I would have dropped down to hell under my +sins; but, with your arm around me, you'll take me with you. Hold me +close." + +"With all my heart, Pierre. See--I'm not afraid. It is like going to +sleep. What wonderful dreams we'll have!" + +And then the black mass of the landslide swept upon them. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +RIDERS OF THE SILENCES + +Down all the length of the mountain-desert and across its width of +rocks and mountains and valleys and stern plateaus there is a saying: +"You can tell a man by the horse he rides." For most other important +things are apt to go by opposites, which is the usual way in which a +man selects his wife. With dogs, for instance--a quiet man is apt to +want an active dog, and a tractable fellow may keep the most vicious of +wolf-dogs. + +But when it comes to a horse, a man's heart speaks for itself, and if +he has sufficient knowledge of the king of beasts he will choose a +sympathetic mount. A dainty woman loves a neat-stepping saddle-horse; +a philosopher likes a nodding, stumble-footed nag which will jog all +day long and care not a whit whether it goes up dale or down. + +To know the six wild riders who galloped over the white reaches of the +mountain-desert this night, certainly their horses should be studied +first and the men secondly, for the one explained the other. + +They came in a racing triangle. Even the storm at its height could not +daunt such furious riders. At the point of the triangle thundered a +mighty black stallion, his muzzle and his broad chest flecked with +white foam, for he stretched his head out and champed at the bit with +ears laid flat back, as though even that furious pace gave him no +opportunity to use fully his strength. + +He was no cleanly cut beauty, but an ugly headed monster with a +savagely hooked Roman nose and small, keen eyes, always red at the +corners. A medieval baron in full panoply of plate armor would have +chosen such a charger among ten thousand steeds, yet the black stallion +needed all his strength to uphold the unarmored giant who bestrode him, +a savage figure. + +When the broad brim of his hat flapped up against the wind the +moonshine caught at shaggy brows, a cruelly arched nose, thin, straight +lips, and a forward-thrusting jaw. It seemed as if nature had hewn him +roughly and designed him for a primitive age where he could fight his +way with hands and teeth. + +This was Jim Boone. To his right and a little behind him galloped a +riderless horse, a beautiful young animal continually tossing its head +and looking as if for guidance at the big stallion. + +To the left strode a handsome bay with pricking ears. A mound +interfered with his course, and he cleared it in magnificent style that +would have brought a cheer from the lips of any English lover of the +chase. + +Straight in the saddle sat Dick Wilbur, and he raised his face a little +to the wind, smiling faintly as if he rejoiced in its fine strength, as +handsome as the horse he rode, as cleanly cut, as finely bred. The +moon shone a little brighter on him than on any others of the six stark +riders. + +Bud Mansie behind, for instance, kept his head slightly to one side and +cursed beneath his breath at the storm and set his teeth at the wind. +His horse, delicately formed, with long, slender legs, could not have +endured that charge against the storm save that it constantly edged +behind the leaders and let them break the wind. It carried less weight +than any other mount of the six, and its strength was cunningly nursed +by the rider so that it kept its place, and at the finish it would be +as strong as any and swifter, perhaps, for a sudden, short effort, just +as Bud Mansie might be numbed through all his nervous, slender body, +but never too numb for swift and deadly action. + +On the opposite wing of the flying wedge galloped a dust-colored gray, +ragged of mane and tail, and vindictive of eye, like its down-headed +rider, who shifted his glance rapidly from side to side and watched the +ground closely before his horse as if he were perpetually prepared for +danger. + +He distrusted the very ground over which his mount strode. For all +this he seemed the least formidable of all the riders. To see him pass +none could have suspected that this was Black Morgan Gandil. + +Last of the crew came two men almost as large as Jim Boone himself, on +strong steady-striding horses. They came last in this crew, but among +a thousand other long-riders they would have ridden first, either +red-faced, good-humored, loud-voiced Garry Patterson, or Phil Branch, +stout-handed, blunt of jaw, who handled men as he had once hammered red +iron at the forge. + +Each of them should have ridden alone in order to be properly +appreciated. To see them together was like watching a flock of eagles +every one of which should have been a solitary lord of the air. But +after scanning that lordly train which followed, the more terrible +seemed the rider of the great black horse. + +Yet the king was sad, and the reason for his sadness was the riderless +horse which galloped so freely beside him. His son had ridden that +horse when they set out, and all the way down to the railroad Handsome +Hal Boone had kept his mount prancing and curveting and had ridden +around and around tall Dick Wilbur, playing pranks, and had teased his +father's black until the big stallion lashed out wildly with furious +heels. + +It was the memory of this that kept the grave shadow of a smile on the +father's lips for all the sternness of his eyes. He never turned his +head, for, looking straight forward, he could conjure up the laughing +vision; but when he glanced to the empty saddle he heard once more the +last unlucky shot fired from the train as they raced off with their +booty, and saw Hal reel in his saddle and pitch forward; and how he had +tried to check his horse and turn back; and how big Dick Wilbur, and +Patterson, and mighty-handed Phil Branch had forced him to go on and +leave that form lying motionless on the snow. + +At that he groaned, and spurred the black, and so the cavalcade rushed +faster and faster through the night. + +They came over a sharp ridge and veered to the side just in time, for +all the further slope was a mass of treacherous sand and rubble and raw +rocks and mud, where a landslide had stripped the hill to the stone. + +As they veered about the ruin and thundered on down to the foot of the +hill, Jim Boone threw up his hand for a signal and brought his stallion +to a halt on back-braced, sliding legs. + +For a metallic glitter had caught his eye, and then he saw, half +covered by the pebbles and dirt, the figure of a man. He must have +been struck by the landslide and not overwhelmed by it, but rather +carried before it like a stick in a rush of water. At the outermost +edge of the wave he lay with the rocks and dirt washed over him. Boone +swung from the saddle and lifted Pierre le Rouge. + +The gleam of metal was the cross which his fingers still gripped. +Boone examined it with a somewhat superstitious caution, took it from +the nerveless fingers, and slipped it into a pocket of Pierre's shirt. +A small cut on the boy's forehead showed where the stone struck which +knocked him senseless, but the cut still bled--a small trickle--Pierre +lived. He even stirred and groaned and opened his eyes, large and +deeply blue. + +It was only an instant before they closed, but Boone had seen. He +turned with the figure lifted easily in his arms as if Pierre had been +a child fallen asleep by the hearth and now about to be carried off to +bed. + +And the outlaw said: "I've lost my boy to-night. This here one was +given me by the will of--God." + +Black Morgan Gandil reined his horse close by, leaned to peer down, and +the shadow of his hat fell across the face of Pierre. + +"There's no good comes of savin' shipwrecked men. Leave him where you +found him, Jim. That's my advice. Sidestep a red-headed man. That's +what I say." + +The quick-stepping horse of Bud Mansie came near, and the rider wiped +his blue, stiff lips, and spoke from the side of his mouth, a prison +habit of the line that moves in the lock-step: "Take it from me, Jim, +there ain't any place in our crew for a man you've picked up without +knowing him beforehand. Let him lay, I say." + +But big Dick Wilbur was already leading up the horse of Hal Boone, and +into the saddle Jim Boone swung the inert body of Pierre. The argument +was settled, for every man of them knew that nothing could turn Boone +back from a thing once begun. Yet there were muttered comments that +drew Black Morgan Gandil and Bud Mansie together. + +And Gandil, from the South Seas, growled with averted eyes: + +"This is the most fool stunt the chief has ever pulled." + +"Right, pal," answered Mansie. "You take a snake in out of the cold, +and it bites you when it comes to in the warmth; but the chief has +started, and there ain't nothing that'll make him stop, except maybe +God or McGurk." + +And Black Gandil answered with his evil, sudden grin: "Maybe McGurk, +but not God." + +They started on again with Garry Patterson and Dick Wilbur riding close +on either side of Pierre, supporting his limp body. It delayed the +whole gang, for they could not go on faster than a jog-trot. The wind, +however, was falling off in violence. Its shrill whistling ceased, at +length, and they went on, accompanied only by the harsh crunching of +the snow underfoot. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE GUARD + +Consciousness returned to Pierre like the light of the rising moon +which breaks dimly through the window and makes all the objects in a +room grotesquely large and blackly shadowed. Many a time his eyes +opened, and he saw nothing, but when he did see and hear it was by +vague glimpses. + +He heard the crying crunch of the snow underfoot; he heard the panting +and snorting of the horses; he felt the swing and jolt of the saddle +beneath him; he saw the grim faces of the long-riders, and he said: +"The law has taken me." + +Thereafter he let his will lapse, and surrendered to the sleepy +numbness which assailed his brain in waves. He was riding without +support by this time, but it was an automatic effort. There was no +more real life in him than in a dummy figure. It was not the effect of +the blow. It was rather the long exposure and the over-exertion of +nerves and mind and body during the evening and night. He had simply +collapsed beneath the strain. + +But an old army man has said: "Give me a soldier of eighteen or twenty. +In a single day he may not march quite so far as a more mature man or +carry quite so much weight. He will go to sleep each night dead to the +world. But in the morning he awakens a new man. He is like a slate +from which all the writing has been erased. He is ready for a new day +and a new world. Thirty days of campaigning leaves him as strong and +fresh as ever. + +"Thirty days of campaigning leaves the old soldier a wreck. Why? +Because as a man grows older he loses the ability to sleep soundly. He +carries the nervous strain of one day over to the next. Life is a +serious problem to a man over thirty. To a man under thirty it is +simply a game. For my part, give me men who can play at war." + +So it was with Pierre le Rouge. He woke with a faint heaviness of +head, and stretched himself. There were many sore places, but nothing +more. He looked up, and the slant winter sun cut across his face and +made a patch of bright yellow on the wall beside him. + +Next he heard a faint humming, and, turning his head, saw a boy of +fourteen or perhaps a little more, busily cleaning a rifle in a way +that betokened the most expert knowledge of the weapon. Pierre himself +knew rifles as a preacher knows his Bible, and as he lay half awake and +half asleep he smiled with enjoyment to see the deft fingers move here +and there, wiping away the oil. A green hand will spend half a day +cleaning a gun, and then do the work imperfectly; an expert does the +job efficiently in ten minutes. This was an expert. + +Undoubtedly this was a true son of the mountain desert. He wore his +old slouch hat even in the house, and his skin was that olive brown +which comes from many years of exposure to the wind and sun. At the +same time there was a peculiar fineness about the boy. His feet were +astonishingly small and the hands thin and slender for all their supple +strength. And his neck was not bony, as it is in most youths at this +gawky age, but smoothly rounded. + +Men grow big of bone and sparse of flesh in the mountain desert. It +was the more surprising to Pierre to see this young fellow with the +marvelously delicate-cut features. By some freak of nature here was a +place where the breed ran to high blood. + +The cleaning completed, the boy tossed the butt of the gun to his +shoulder and squinted down the barrel. Then he loaded the magazine, +weighted the gun deftly at the balance, and dropped the rifle across +his knees. + +"Morning," said Pierre le Rouge cheerily, and swung off the bunk to the +floor. "How old's the gun?" + +The boy, without the slightest show of excitement, snapped the butt to +his shoulder and drew a bead on Pierre's breast. + +"Sit down before you get all heated up," said a musical voice. +"There's nobody waiting for you on horseback." + +And Pierre sat down, partly because Western men never argue a point +when that little black hole is staring them in the face, partly because +he remembered with a rush that the last time he had fully possessed his +consciousness he had been lying in the snow with the cross gripped hard +and the toppling mass of the landslide above him. All that had +happened between was blotted from his memory. He fumbled at his +throat. The cross was not there. He touched his pockets. + +"Ease your hands away from your hip," said the cold voice of the boy, +who had dropped his gun to the ready with a significant finger curled +around the trigger, "or I'll drill you clean." + +Pierre obediently raised his hands to the level of his shoulders. The +boy sneered, and a light of infinite scorn blazed into those great +black eyes. + +"This isn't a hold-up," he explained. "Put 'em down again, but watch +yourself." + +The sneer varied to a contemptuous smile. + +"I guess you're tame, all right." + +"Point that gun another way, will you, son?" + +The boy started and flushed a little. + +"Don't call me son." + +"Is this a lockup--a jail?" + +"This?" + +"What is it, then? The last I remember I was lying in the snow with--" + +"I wish to God you'd been let there," said the boy bitterly. + +But Pierre, overwhelmed with the endeavor to recollect, rushed on with +his questions and paid no heed to the tone. + +"I had a cross in my hand--" + +The scorn of the boy grew to mighty proportions. + +"It's there in the breast-pocket of your shirt." + +Pierre drew out the little cross, and the touch of it against his palm +restored whatever of his strength was lacking. Very carefully he +attached it to the chain about his throat. Then he looked up to the +contempt of the boy, and as he did so another memory burst on him and +brought him to his feet. The gun went to the boy's shoulders at the +same time. + +"When I was found--was any one else with me?" + +"Nope." + +"What happened?" + +"Must have been buried in the landslide. Half a hill caved in, and the +dirt rolled you down to the bottom. Plain luck, that's all, that kept +you from going out." + +"Luck?" said Pierre and he laid his hand against his breast where he +could feel the outline of the cross. "Yes, I suppose it was luck. And +she--" + +He sat down slowly and buried his face in his hands. A new tone came +in the voice of the boy. His tone was thrillingly gentle as he asked: +"Was a woman with you?" But Pierre heard only the tone and not the +words. His face was gray when he looked up again, and his voice hard. + +"Tell me as briefly as you can how I come here, and who picked me up." + +"My father and his men. They passed you lying on the snow. They +brought you home." + +"Who is your father?" + +The boy stiffened and his color rose in pride and defiance. + +"My father is Jim Boone." + +Instinctively, while he stared, the right hand of Pierre le Rouge crept +toward his hip. + +"Keep your hand steady," said the boy. "I got a nervous +trigger-finger. Yeh, dad is pretty well known." + +"You're his son?" + +"I'm Jack Boone." + +"But I've heard--tell me, do you look like your father?" + +Jack Boone smiled, strove to frown, and then burst into surprisingly +musical laughter. It came in bursts and ripples, and seemed that it +would never end. His merriment ended slowly, for he saw the eyes of +Pierre stare into blank distance, and knew that the man with the red +hair was thinking of the woman whom the landslide had buried. +Something that was partially sympathy and partially curiosity altered +Jack's expression. + +After all, it was very difficult to remain hostile in front of the +steady blue eyes of this stranger. + +Pierre said gravely: "Why am I under guard?" + +Jack was instantly aflame with the old anger. + +"Not because I want you here." + +"Who does?" + +"Dad." + +"Put away your pop-gun and talk sense. I won't try to get away until +Jim Boone comes. I only fight men." + +Even the anger and grief of the boy could not keep him from smiling in +his peculiarly winning way. + +"Just the same I'll keep the shooting-iron handy. Sit still. A gun +don't keep me from talking sense, does it? You're here to take Hal's +place. Hal!" + +The little wail told a thousand things, and Pierre, shocked out of the +thought of his own troubles, waited. + +"My brother, Hal; he's dead; he died last night, and on the way back +dad found you and brought you to take Hal's place. _Hal's_ place!" + +The accent showed how impossible it was that Hal's place could be taken +by any mortal man. + +"I got orders to keep you here, but if I was to do what I'd like to do, +I'd give you the best horse on the place and tell you to clear out. +That's me!" + +"Then do it." + +"And face dad afterward?" + +"Tell him I overpowered you. That would be easy; you a slip of a boy, +and me a man." + +"Stranger, it goes to show you may have heard of Jim Boone, but you +don't anyways know him. When he orders a thing done he wants it done, +and he don't care how, and he don't ask questions why. He just raises +hell." + +"He really expects to keep me here?" + +"Expects? He will." + +"Going to tie me up?" asked Pierre ironically. + +"Maybe," answered Jack, overlooking the irony. "Maybe he'll just put +you on my shoulders to guard." + +He moved the gun significantly. + +"And I can do it." + +"Of course. But he would have to let me go some time." + +"Not till you'd promised to stick by him. I told him that myself, but +he said that you're young and that he'd teach you to like this life +whether you wanted to or not. Me speaking personally, I agree with +Black Gandil: This is the worst fool thing that dad has ever done. +What do we want with you--in Hal's place!" + +And a suggestion of a sob came in Jack's voice, though he set his teeth +to keep it back. + +"But I've got a thing to do right away--to-day; it can't wait. + +"Give dad your word to come back and he'll let you go. He says you're +the kind that will keep your word. You see, he found you with a cross +in your hand." + +And Jack's lips curled again. + +It was all absurd, too impossible to be real. The only real things +were the body of white-handed, yellow-haired Mary Brown under the +tumbled rocks and dirt of the landslide, and the body of Martin Ryder +waiting to be placed in that corner plot where the grass grew quicker +than all other grass in the spring of the year. + +However, having fallen among madmen, he must use cunning to get away +before the outlaw and his men came back from wherever they had gone. +Otherwise there would be more bloodshed, more play of guns and hum of +lead. + +"Tell me of Hal," he said, and dropped his elbows on his knees as if he +accepted his fate. + +"Don't know you well enough to talk of Hal." + +"I'm sorry." + +The boy made a little gesture of apology. + +"I guess that was a low-down mean thing to say. Sure I'll tell you +about Hal--if I can." + +For his lips trembled at the thought of the dead. + +"Tell me anything you can," said Pierre gently, "because I've got to +try to be like him, haven't I?" + +"You could try till rattlers got tame, but it'd take ten like you to +make one like Hal. He was dad's own son--he was my brother." + +The sob came openly now, and the tears were a bright mist in the boy's +eyes. + +"What's your name?" + +"Pierre." + +"Pierre? I suppose I got to learn it." + +"I suppose so." And he edged farther forward, so that he was sitting +only on the edge of the bunk. + +"Please do." And he gathered his feet under him, ready for a spring +forward and a grip at the boy's threatening rifle. + +Jack had canted his head a little to one side, smiling faintly for the +joy of the memory. + +"Did you ever see a horse that was gentle and yet had never been +ridden, or his spirit broke, Pierre--" + +Here Pierre made his leap swift as some bobcat of the northern woods; +his hand whipped out as lightning fast as the striking paw of the lynx, +and the gun was jerked from the hands of Jack. Not before the boy +clutched at it with a cry of horror, but the force of the pull sent him +lurching to the floor and broke his grip. + +He was up in an instant, however, and a knife of ugly length glittered +in his hand; as he sprang at Pierre his lips were as white as the teeth +over which they snarled. + +Pierre tossed aside the rifle and met the attack bare-handed. Deadly +swift was the thrust of the knife, but compared with the motion of +Pierre it was as slow as tame things are when they are likened to the +wild. + +He caught the knife-bearing hand at the wrist and under his grip the +hand loosened its hold and the steel tinkled on the floor. His other +arm caught the body of Jack in a mighty vise. + +There was a brief and futile struggle, and a hissing of breath in the +silence till the hat tumbled from the head of Jack and down over the +shoulders streamed a torrent of silken black hair. + +Pierre stepped back. This was the meaning, then, of the strangely +small feet and hands and the low music of the voice. It was the body +of a girl that he had held, and his arm still tingled from the +finger-tips to the shoulder. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +JACK GROWS UP + +It was not fear nor shame that made the eyes of Jacqueline so wide as +she stared past Pierre toward the door. He glanced across his +shoulder, and blocking the entrance to the room, literally filling the +doorway, was the bulk of Jim Boone. + +"Seems as if I was sort of steppin' in on a little family party," he +said. "I'm sure glad you two got acquainted so quick. Jack, how did +you and-- What the hell's your name, lad?" + +"He tricked me, dad, or he would never have got the gun away from me. +This--this Pierre--this beast--he got me to talk of Hal till my eyes +filled up and I couldn't see. Then he stole----" + +"The point," said Jim Boone coldly, "is that he got the gun. Run +along, Jack. You ain't so growed up as I was thinkin'. Or hold +on--maybe you're more grown up. Which is it? Are you turnin' into a +woman, Jack?" + +She whirled on Pierre in a white fury. + +"You see? You see what you've done? He'll never trust me +again--never! Pierre, I hate you. I'll always hate you. And if Hal +were here----" + +A storm of sobs and tears cut her short, and she disappeared through +the door. Boone and Pierre stood regarding each other critically. + +The boy spoke first: "You're not as big as I expected." + +"I'm plenty big; but you're older than I thought." + +"Too old for what you want of me. The girl told me what that was." + +"Not too old to be made what I want." + +And his hands passed through a significant gesture of moulding the +empty air. The boy met his eye dauntlessly. + +"I suppose," he said, "that I've a pretty small chance of getting away." + +"Just about none, Pierre. Come here." + +Pierre stepped closer and looked down the hall into another room. +There, about a table, sat the five grimmest riders of the mountain +desert that he had even seen. They were such men as one could judge at +a glance, and Pierre made that instinctive motion for his six-gun. + +"The girl," Jim Boone was saying, "kept you pretty busy tryin' to make +a break, and if she could do anything maybe you'd have a pile of +trouble with one of them guardin' you. But if I'd had a good look at +you, lad, I'd never have let Jack take the job of guardin' you." + +"Thanks," answered Pierre dryly. + +"You got reason; I can see that. Here's the point, Pierre. I know +young men because I can remember pretty close what I was at your age. +I wasn't any ladies' lap dog, at that, but time and older men molded me +the way I'm going to mold you. Understand?" + +Pierre was nerved for many things, but the last word made him stir. It +roused in him a red-tinged desire to get through the forest of black +beard at the throat of Boone and dim the glitter of those keen eyes. +It brought him also another thought. + +Two great tasks lay before him: the burial of his father and the +avenging of him on McGurk. As to the one, he knew it would be childish +madness for him to attempt to bury his father in Morgantown with only +his single hand to hold back the powers of the law or the friends of +the notorious Diaz and crippled Hurley. + +And for the other, it was even more vain to imagine that through his +own unaided power he could strike down a figure of such almost +legendary terror as McGurk. The bondage of the gang might be a +terrible thing through the future, but the present need blinded him to +what might come. + +He said: "Suppose I stop raising questions or making a fight, but give +you my hand and call myself a member----" + +"Of the family? Exactly. If you did that I'd know it was because you +were wantin' something, Pierre, eh?" + +"Two things." + +"Lad, I like this way of talk. One--two--you hit quick like a two-gun +man. Well, I'm used to paying high for what I get. What's up?" + +"The first----" + +"Wait. Can I help you out by myself, or do you need the gang?" + +"The gang." + +"Then come, and I'll put it up to them. You first." + +It was equally courtesy and caution, and Pierre smiled faintly as he +went first through the door. He stood in a moment under the eyes of +five silent men. + +The booming voice of Jim Boone pronounced: + +"This is Pierre. He'll be one of us if he can get the gang to do two +things. I ask you, will you hear him for me, and then pass on whether +or not you try his game?" + +They nodded. There were no greetings to acknowledge the introduction. +They waited, eyeing the youth with distrust. + +Pierre eyed them in turn, and then he spoke directly to big Dick Wilbur. + +"Here's the first: I want to bury a man in Morgantown and I need help +to do it." + +Black Gandil snarled: "You heard me, boys; blood to start with. Who's +the man you want us to put out?" + +"He's dead--my father." + +They came up straight in their chairs like trained actors rising to a +stage crisis. The snarl straightened on the lips of Black Morgan +Gandil. + +"He's lying in his house a few miles out of Morgantown. As he died he +told me that he wanted to be buried in a corner plot in the Morgantown +graveyard. He'd seen the place and counted it for his a good many +years because he said the grass grew quicker there than any other +place, after the snow went." + +"A damned good reason," said Garry Patterson. As the idea stuck more +deeply into his imagination he smashed his fist down on the table so +that the crockery on it danced. "A damned good reason, say I!" + +"Who's your father?" asked Dick Wilbur, who eyed Pierre more critically +but with less enmity than the rest. + +"Martin Ryder." + +"A ringer!" cried Bud Mansie, and he leaned forward alertly. "You +remember what I said, Jim?" + +"Shut up. Pierre, talk soft and talk quick. We all know Mart Ryder +had only two sons and you're not either of them." + +The Northerner grew stiff and as his face grew pale the red mark where +the stone had struck his forehead stood out like a danger signal. + +He said slowly: "I'm his son, but not by the mother of those two." + +"Was he married twice?" + +Pierre was paler still, and there was an uneasy twitching of his right +hand which every man understood. + +He barely whispered. "No; damn you!" + +But Black Gandil loved evil. + +He said, with a marvelously unpleasant smile: "Then she was----" + +The voice of Dick Wilbur cut in like the snapping of a whip: "Shut up, +Gandil, you devil!" + +There were times when not even Boone would cross Wilbur, and this was +one of them. + +Pierre went on: "The reason I can't go to Morgantown is that I'm not +very well liked by some of the men there." + +"Why not?" + +"When my father died there was no money to pay for his burial. I had +only a half-dollar piece. I went to the town and gambled and won a +great deal. But before I came out I got mixed up with a man called +Hurley, a professional gambler." + +"And Diaz?" queried a chorus. + +"Yes. Hurley was hurt in the wrist and Diaz died. I think I'm wanted +in Morgantown." + +Out of a little silence came the voice of Black Gandil: "Dick, I'm +thankin' you now for cuttin' me so short a minute ago." + +Phil Branch had not spoken, as usual, but now he repeated, with rapt, +far-off eyes: "'Hurley was hurt in the wrist and Diaz died?' Hurley +and Diaz! I played with Hurley, a couple of times." + +"Speakin' personal," said Garry Patterson, his red verging toward +purple in excitement, "which I'm ready to go with you down to +Morgantown and bury your father." + +"And do it shipshape," added Black Gandil. + +"With all the trimmings," said Bud Mansie, "with all Morgantown joinin' +the mournin' voluntarily under cover of our six-guns." + +"Wait," said Boone. "What's the second request?" + +"That can wait." + +"It's a bigger job than this one?" + +"Lots bigger." + +"And in the mean time?" + +"I'm your man." + +They shook hands. Even Black Gandil rose to take his share in the +ceremony--all save Bud Mansie, who had glanced out the window a moment +before and then silently left the room. A bottle of whiskey was +produced and glasses filled all round. Jim Boone brought in the +seventh chair and placed it at the table. They raised their glasses. + +"To the empty chair," said Boone. + +They drank, and for the first time in his life, the liquid fire went +down the throat of Pierre. He set down his glass, coughing, and the +others laughed good-naturedly. + +"Started down the wrong way?" asked Wilbur. + +"It's beastly stuff; first I ever drank." + +A roar of laughter answered him. + +"Still I got an idea," broke in Jim Boone, "that he's worthy of takin' +the seventh chair. Draw it up lad." + +Vaguely it reminded Pierre of a scene in some old play with himself in +the role of the hero signing away his soul to the devil, but an +interruption kept him from taking the chair. There was a racket at the +door--a half-sobbing, half-scolding voice, and the laughter of a man; +then Bud Mansie appeared carrying Jack in spite of her struggles. He +placed her on the floor and held her hands to protect himself from her +fury. + +"I glimpsed her through the window," he explained. "She was lining out +for the stable and then a minute later I saw her swing a saddle +onto--what horse d'you think?" + +"Out with it." + +"Jim's big Thunder. Yep, she stuck the saddle on big black Thunder and +had a rifle in the holster. I saw there was hell brewing somewhere, so +I went out and nabbed her." + +"Jack!" called Jim Boone. "What were you started for?" + +Bud Mansie released her arms and she stood with them stiffening at her +sides and her small brown fists clenched. + +"Hal--he died, and there was nothing but talk about him--nothing done. +You got a live man in Hal's place." + +She pointed an accusing finger at Pierre. + +"Maybe he takes his place for you, but he's not my brother--I hate him. +I went out to get another man to make up for Pierre." + +"Well?" + +"A dead man. I shoot straight enough for that." + +A very solemn silence spread through the room; for every man was +watching in the eyes of the father and daughter the same shining black +devil of wrath. + +"Jack, get into your room and don't move out of it till I tell you to. +D'you hear?" + +She turned on her heel like a soldier and marched from the room. + +"Jack." + +She stopped in the door but would not turn back, and still the room, +watching that little tragedy, was breathless. + +"Jack, don't you love your old dad any more?" + +She whirled and ran to him with outstretched arms and clung to him, +sobbing. + +"Oh, dad--dear dad," she groaned. "You've broken my heart; you've +broken my heart!" + +The others filed softly out of the room and stood bareheaded under the +winter sky. + +Bud Mansie, his meager face transformed with wonder, said: "Fellers, +what d'you know about it? Our Jack's grown up." + +And Black Gandil answered: "Look at this Pierre frowning at the ground. +It was him that changed her." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE BURIAL + +The annals of the mountain desert have never been written and can never +be written. They are merely a vast mass of fact and tradition and +imagining which floats from tongue to tongue from the Rockies to the +Sierra Nevadas. A man may be a fact all his life and die only a local +celebrity. Then again, he may strike sparks from that imagination +which runs riot by camp-fires and at the bars of the crossroads saloons. + +In that case he becomes immortal. It is not that lies are told about +him or impossible feats ascribed to him, but every detail about him is +seized upon and passed on with a most scrupulous and loving care. + +In due time he will become a tradition. That is, he will be known +familiarly at widely separated parts of the range, places which he has +never visited. It has happened to a few of the famous characters of +the mountain desert that they became traditions before their deaths. +It happened to McGurk, of course. It also happened to Red Pierre. + +Oddly enough, the tradition of Red Pierre did not begin with his ride +from the school of Father Victor to Morgantown, distant many days of +difficult and dangerous travel. Neither did tradition seize on the gun +fight that crippled Hurley and "put out" wizard Diaz. These things +were unquestionably known to many, but they did not strike the popular +imagination. What set men first on fire was the way Pierre le Rouge +buried his father "at the point of the gun" in Morgantown. + +That day Boone's men galloped out of the higher mountains down the +trail toward Morgantown. They stole a wagon out of a ranch stable on +the way and tied two lariats to the tongue. So they towed it, bounding +and rattling, over the rough trail to the house where Martin Ryder lay +dead. + +His body was placed in state in the body of the wagon, pillowed with +everything in the line of cloth which the house could furnish. Thus +equipped they went on at a more moderate pace toward Morgantown. + +What followed it is useless to repeat here. Tradition rehearsed every +detail of that day's work, and the purpose of this narrative is only to +give the details of some of the events which tradition does not know, +at least in their entirety. + +They started at one end of Morgantown's street. Pierre guarded the +wagon in the center of the street and kept the people under cover of +his rifle. The rest of Boone's men cleaned out the houses as they went +and sent the occupants piling out to swell the crowd. + +And so they rolled the crowd out of town and to the cemetery, where +"volunteers" dug the grave of Martin Ryder wide and deep, and Pierre +paid for the corner plot three times over in gold. + +Then a coffin--improvised hastily for the occasion out of a +packing-box--was lowered reverently, also by "volunteer" mourners, and +before the first sod fell on the dead, Pierre borrowed a long black +cloak from one of the women and wrapped himself in it, in lieu of the +robe of the priest, and raised over his head the crucifix of Father +Victor that brought good luck, and intoned a service in the purest +Ciceronian Latin, surely, that ever regaled the ears of Morgantown's +elect. + +The moment he raised that cross the bull throat of Jim Boone bellowed a +command, the poised guns of the gang enforced it, and all the crowd +dropped to their knees, leaving the six outlaws scattered about the +edges of the mob like sheep dogs around a folding flock, while in the +center stood Pierre with white, upturned face and the raised cross. + +So Martin Ryder was buried with "trimmings," and the gang rode back, +laughing and shouting, through the town and up into the safety of the +mountains. Election day was fast approaching and therefore the rival +candidates for sheriff hastily organized posses and made the usual +futile pursuit. + +In fact, before the pursuit was well under way, Boone and his men sat +at their supper table in the cabin. The seventh chair was filled; all +were present except Jack, who sulked in her room. Pierre went to her +door and knocked. He carried under his arm a package which he had +secured in the General Merchandise Store of Morgantown. + +"We're all waiting for you at the table," he explained. + +"Just keep on waiting," said the husky voice of Jacqueline. + +"If I leave the table will you come out?" + +She stammered: "Ye--n-no!" + +"Yes or no?" + +"No, no, no!" + +And he heard the stamp of her foot and smiled a little. + +"I've brought you a present." + +"I hate your presents!" + +"It's a thing you've wanted for a long time, Jacqueline." + +Only a stubborn silence. + +"I'm putting your door a little ajar." + +"If you dare to come in I'll--" + +"And I'm leaving the package right here at the entrance. I'm so sorry, +Jacqueline, that you hate me." + +And then he walked off down the hall--cunning Pierre--before she could +send her answer like an arrow after him. At the table he arranged an +eighth plate and drew up a chair before it. + +"If that's for Jack," remarked Dick Wilbur, "you're wasting your time. +I know her and I know her type. She'll never come out to the table +to-night--nor to-morrow, either. I know!" + +In fact, he knew a good deal too much about girls and women also, did +Wilbur, and that was why he rode the long trails of the mountain-desert +with Boone and his men. Far south and east in the Bahamas a great +mansion stood vacant because he was gone, and the dust lay thick on the +carpets and powdered the curtains and tapestries with a common gray. + +He had built it and furnished it for a woman he loved, and afterward +for her sake he had killed a man and fled from a posse and escaped in +the steerage of a west-bound ship. Still the law followed him, and he +kept on west and west until he reached the mountain-desert which thinks +nothing of swallowing men and their reputations. + +There he was safe, but some day he would see some woman smile, catch +the glimmer of some eye, and throw safety away to ride after her. + +It was a weakness, but what made a tragic figure of handsome Dick +Wilbur was that he knew his weakness and sat still and let fate walk up +and overtake him. + +Yet Pierre le Rouge answered this man of sorrowful wisdom: "In my part +of the country men say: 'If you would speak of women let money talk for +you.'" + +And he placed a gold piece on the table. + +"She will come out to the supper table." + +"She will not," smiled Wilbur, and covered the coin. "Will you take +odds?" + +"No charity. Who else will bet?" + +"I," said Jim Boone instantly. "You figure her for an ordinary sulky +kid." + +Pierre smiled upon him. + +"There's a cut in my shirt where her knife passed through; and that's +the reason that I'll bet on her now." + +The whole table covered his coin, with laughter. + +"We've kept one part of your bargain, Pierre. We've seen your father +buried in the corner plot. Now, what's the second part?" + +"I don't know you well enough to ask you that," said Pierre. + +They plied him with suggestions. + +"To rob the Berwin Bank?" + +"Stick up a train?" + +"No. That's nothing." + +"Round up the sheriffs from here to the end of the mountains?" + +"Too easy." + +"Roll all those together," said Pierre, "and you'll begin to get an +idea of what I'll ask." + +Then a low voice called from the black throat of the hall "Pierre!" + +The others were silent, but Pierre winked at them, and made great +flourish with knife and fork against his plate as if to cover the sound +of Jacqueline's voice. + +"Pierre!" she called again. "I've come to thank you." + +He jumped up and turned toward the hall. + +"Do you like it?" + +"It's a wonder!" + +"Then we're friends?" + +"If you want to be." + +"There's nothing I want more. Then you'll come out and have supper +with us, Jack?" + +"Pierre--" + +"Yes?" + +"I'm ashamed. I've been acting like a silly kid." + +"But we're waiting for you." + +There was a little pause, and then Jim Boone struck his fist on the +table and cursed, for she stepped from the darkness into the flaring +light of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +A TALE OF THE SLEDGE + +She wore a cartridge belt slung jauntily across her hips and from it +hung a holster of stiff new leather with the top flap open to show the +butt of a man-sized forty-five caliber six-shooter--her first gun. Not +a man of the gang but had loaned her his guns time and again, but they +had never dreamed of giving the child a weapon of her own. + +So they stared at her agape, where she stood with her head back, one +slender hand resting on her hip, one hovering about the butt of the +gun, as if she challenged them to question her right to be called "man." + +It was as if she abandoned all claims to femininity with that single +step; the gun at her side made her seem inches taller and years older. +She was no longer a child, but a long-rider who could back any horse on +the range and shoot with the best. + +One glance she cast about the room to drink in the amazement of the +gang, and then with a profound instinct guiding her, she picked out the +best critic in the room and said to him with a frown: "Well, Dick, +how's it hang?" + +The big man was as flushed as the girl. + +"Hangs like a charm," he said, "a charm that 'll be apt to make men +step about." + +And her father broke in rather hoarsely: "Sit down, girl. Sit down and +be one of us. One of us you are by your own choice from this day on. +You're neither man nor woman, but a long-rider with every man's hand +against you. You've done with any hope of a home or of friends. +You're one of us. Poor Jack--my girl!" + +"Poor?" she returned. "Not while I can make a quick draw and shoot +straight." + +And then she swept the circle of eyes, daring them to take her boast +lightly, but they knew her too well, and were all solemnly silent. At +this she relented somewhat, and went directly to Pierre, flushing from +throat to hair. She held out her hand. + +"Will you shake and call it square?" + +"I sure will," nodded Pierre. + +"And we're pals--you and me, like the rest of 'em?" + +"We are." + +"Shake again." + +She took the place beside him. + +Garry Patterson was telling how he had said farewell to a Swedish +sweetheart, and the roar of laughter took the eyes away from Jacqueline +for a moment. So she leaned to Pierre le Rouge and whispered at his +ear: "Pierre you've made me the happiest fellow on the range." + +As the whisky went round after round and the fun waxed higher the two +seemed shut away from the others; they were younger, less touched and +marked by life; they listened while the others talked, and now and then +exchanged glances of interest or aversion. + +"Listen," she said after a time, "I've heard this story before." + +It was Phil Branch, square-built and square of jaw, who was talking. + +"There's only one thing I can handle better than a gun, and that's a +sledge-hammer. A gun is all right in its way, but for work in a crowd, +well, give me a hammer and I'll show you a way out." + +Bud Mansie grinned: "Leave me my pair of sixes and you can have all the +hammers between here and Central Park in a crowd. There's nothing +makes a crowd remember its heels like a pair of barking sixes." + +"Ah, ah!" growled Branch. "But when they've heard bone crunch under +the hammer there's nothing will hold them." + +"I'd have to see that." + +"Maybe you will, Bud, maybe you will. It was the hammer that started +me for the long trail west. I had a big Scotchman in the factory who +couldn't learn how to weld. I'd taught him day after day and cursed +him and damn near prayed for him. But he somehow wouldn't learn--the +swine--ah, ah!" + +He grew vindictively black at the memory. + +"Every night he wiped out what I'd taught him during the day and the +eraser he used was booze. So one fine day I dropped the hammer after +watchin' him make a botch on a big bar, and cussed him up one leg and +down the other. The Scotchman had a hang-over from the night before +and he made a pass at me. It was too much for me just then, for the +day was hot and the forge fire had been spitting cinders in my face all +morning. So I took him by the throat." + +He reached out and closed his taut fingers slowly. + +"I didn't mean nothin' by it, but after a man has been moldin' iron, +flesh is pretty weak stuff. When I let go of Scotchy he dropped on the +floor, and while I stood starin' down at him somebody seen what had +happened and spread the word. + +"I wasn't none too popular, bein' not much on talk, so the boys got +together and pretty soon they come pilin' through the door at me, +packin' everything from hatchets to crowbars. + +"Lads, I was sorry about Scotchy, but after I glimpsed that gang comin' +I wasn't sorry for nothing. I felt like singin', though there wasn't +no song that could say just what I meant. But I grabbed up the big +fourteen-pound hammer and met 'em half-way. + +"The first swing of the hammer it met something hard, but not as hard +as iron. The thing crunched with a sound like an egg under a heavy +man's heel. And when that crowd heard it they looked sick. God, how +sick they looked! They didn't wait for no second swing, but they beat +it hard and fast through the door with me after 'em. They scattered, +but I kept right on and didn't never really stop till I reached the +mountain-desert and you, Jim." + +"Which is a good yarn," said Bud Mansie, "but I can tell you one that +'ll cap it. It was----" + +He stopped short, staring up at the door. Outside, the wind had kept +up a perpetual roaring, and no one noticed the noise of the opening +door. Bud Mansie, facing that door, however, turned a queer yellow and +sat with his lips parted on the last word. He was not pretty to see. +The others turned their heads, and there followed the strangest panic +which Pierre had even seen. + +Jim Boone jerked his hand back to his hip, but stayed the motion, half +completed, and swung his hands stiffly above his head. Garry Patterson +sat with his eyes blinked shut, pale, waiting for death to come. Dick +Wilbur rose, tall and stiff, and stood with his hands gripped at his +sides, and Black Morgan Gandil clutched at the table before him and his +keen eyes wandered swiftly about the room, seeking a place for escape. + +There was only one sound, and that was a whispering moan of terror from +Jacqueline. Only Pierre made no move, yet he felt as he had when the +black mass of the landslide loomed above him. + +What he saw in the door was a man of medium size and almost slender +build. In spite of the patch of gray hair at either temple he was only +somewhere between twenty-five and thirty. But to see him was to forget +all details except the strangest face which Pierre had ever seen or +would ever look upon in all his career. + +It was pale, with a pallor strange to the ranges; even the lips seemed +bloodless, and they curved with a suggestion of a smile that was a +nervous habit rather than any sign of mirth. The nerves of the left +eye were also affected, and the lid dropped and fluttered almost shut, +so that he had to carry his head far back in order to see plainly. +There was such indomitable pride and scorn in the man that his name +came up to the lips of Pierre: "McGurk." + +A surprisingly gentle voice said: "Jim, I'm sorry to drop in on you +this way, but I've had some unpleasant news." + +His words dispelled part of the charm. The hands of big Boone lowered; +the others assumed more natural positions, but each, it seemed to +Pierre, took particular and almost ostentatious care that their right +hands should be always far from the holsters of their guns. + +The stranger went on: "Martin Ryder is finished, as I suppose you know. +He left a spawn of two mongrels behind him. I haven't bothered with +them, but I'm a little more interested in another son that has cropped +up. He's sitting over there in your family party and his name is +Pierre. In his own country they call him Pierre le Rouge, which means +Red Pierre, in our talk. + +"You know I don't like to be dictatorial, and I've never crossed you in +anything before, Jim. Have I?" + +Boone moistened his white lips and answered: "Never," huskily, as if it +were a great muscular effort for him to speak. + +"This time I have to break the custom. Boone, this fellow Pierre has +to leave the country. Will you see that he goes?" + +The lips of Boone moved and made no sound. + +He said at length: "McGurk, I'd rather cross the devil than cross you. +There's no shame in admitting that. But I've lost my boy, Hal." + +"Too bad, Jim. I knew Hal; at a distance, of course." + +"And Pierre is filling Hal's place in the family." + +"Is that your answer?" + +"McGurk, are you going to pin me down in this?" + +And here Jack whirled and cried: "Dad, you won't let Pierre go!" + +"You see?" pleaded Boone. + +It was uncanny and horrible to see the giant so unnerved before this +stranger, but that part of it did not come to Pierre until later. Now +he felt a peculiar emptiness of stomach and a certain jumping chill +that traveled up and down his spine. Moreover, he could not move his +eyes from the face of McGurk, and he knew at length that this was +fear--the first real fear that he had ever known. + +Shame made him hot, but fear made him cold again. He knew that if he +rose his knees would buckle under him; that if he drew out his revolver +it would slip from his palsied fingers. For the fear of death is a +mighty fear, but it is nothing compared with the fear of man. + +"I've asked you a question," said McGurk. "What's your answer?" + +There was a quiver in the black forest of Boone's beard, and if Pierre +was cold before, he was sick at heart to see the big man cringe before +McGurk. + +He stammered: "Give me time." + +"Good," said McGurk. "I'm afraid I know what your answer would be now, +but if you take a couple of days you will think things over and come to +a reasonable conclusion. I will be at Gaffney's place about fifteen +miles from here. You know it? Send your answer there. In the mean +time"--he stepped forward to the table and poured a small drink of +whiskey into a glass and raised it high--"here's to the long health and +happiness of us all. Drink!" + +There was a hasty pouring of liquor. + +"And you also!" + +Pierre jumped as if he had been struck, and obeyed the order hastily. + +"So," said the master, pleasant again, and Pierre wiped his forehead +furtively and stared up with fascinated eyes. "An unwilling pledge is +better than none at all. To you, gentleman, much happiness; to you, +Pierre le Rouge, _bon voyage_." + +They drank; the master placed his glass on the table again, smiled upon +them, and was gone through the door. He turned his back in leaving. +There was no fitter way in which he could have expressed his contempt. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +MCGURK + +The mirth died and in its place came a long silence. Jim Boone stared +upon Pierre with miserable eyes, and then rose and left the room. The +others one by one followed his example. Dick Wilbur in passing dropped +his hand on Pierre's shoulder. Jacqueline was silent. + +As he sat there minute after minute and then hour after hour of the +long night Pierre saw the meaning of it. If they sent word that they +would not give up Pierre it was war, and war with McGurk had only one +ending. If they sent word that Pierre was surrendered the shame would +never leave Boone and his men. + +Whatever they did there was ruin for them in the end. All this Pierre +conned slowly in his mind, until he was cold. Then he looked up and +saw that the lamp had burned out and that the wood in the fireplace was +consumed to a few red embers. + +He replenished the fire, and when the yellow flames began to mount he +made his resolution and walked slowly up and down the floor with it. +For he knew that he must go to meet McGurk. + +The very thought of the man sent the old chill through his blood, yet +he must go and face him and end the thing. + +It came over him with a pang that he was very young; that life was +barely a taste in his mouth, whether bitter or sweet he could not tell. +He picked a flaming stick from the fire and went before a little round +mirror on the wall. + +Back at him stared the face of a boy. He had seen so much of the grim +six in the last day that the contrast startled him. They were men, +hardened to life and filled with knowledge of it. They were books +written full and ready to be ended. But he? He was a blank page with +a scribbled word here and there. Nevertheless, he was chosen and he +must go. + +Having reached that decision he closed his mind on what would happen. +There was a vague fear that when he faced McGurk he would be unmanned +again and frozen with fear; that his spirit would be broken and he +would become a thing too despicable for a man to kill. + +One thing was certain: if he was to act a man's part and die a man's +death he must not stand long before McGurk. It seemed to him then that +he would die happy if he had the strength to fire one shot before the +end. + +Then he tiptoed from the house and went over the snow to the barn and +saddled the horse of Hal Boone. It was already morning, and as he led +the horse to the door of the barn a shadow, a faint shadow in that +early light, fell across the snow before him. + +He looked up and saw Jacqueline. She stepped close, and the horse +nosed her shoulder affectionately. + +She said: "Isn't there anything that will keep you from going?" + +"It's just a little ride before breakfast. I'll be back in an hour." + +It was foolish to try to blind her, as he saw by her wan, unchildish +smile. + +"Is there no other way, Pierre?" + +"I don't know of any, do you?" + +"You have to leave us, and never come back?" + +"Is he as sure as that, Jack?" + +"Sure? Who?" + +She had not known, after all; she thought that he was merely riding +away from the region where McGurk was king. Now she caught his wrists +and shook them. + +"Pierre, you are not going to face McGurk? Pierre!" + +It was sweet and bitter-sweet that the child should wish him to stay, +and it made the heart of Pierre old and stern to look down on her. + +"If you were a man, you would understand." + +"I know; because of your father. I do understand, but oh, Pierre, it +makes me so unhappy--so terribly sad, Pierre." + +Inspiration made her catch her breath. + +"Listen! I can shoot as straight as almost any man. We will ride down +together. We will go through the doors together--me first to take his +fire, and you behind to shoot him down." + +"I guess no man can be as brave as a woman, Jack. No; I have to see +McGurk alone. He faced my father alone and shot him down. I'll face +McGurk alone and live long enough to put my mark on him." + +"But you don't know him. He can't be hurt. Do you think my father +and--and Dick Wilbur would fear any man who could be hurt? No, but +McGurk has been in a hundred fights and never been touched. There's a +charm over him, don't you see?" + +"I'll break the charm, that's all." + +"You're only a boy, Pierre." + +"I, also, carry a charm with me. Good-by." + +He was up in the saddle. + +"Then I'll call dad--I'll call them all--if you die they shall all +follow you. I swear they shall, Pierre!" + +He merely leaned forward and touched the horse with his spurs, but +after he had raced the first hundred yards he glanced back. She was +running hard for the house, and calling as she went. Pierre cursed and +spurred the horse again. + +Yet even if Jim Boone and his men started out after him they could +never overtake him. Before they were in their saddles and up with him, +he'd be a full three miles out in the hills. Not even black Thunder +could make up as much ground as that. + +So all the fifteen miles to Gaffney's place he urged his horse. The +excitement of the race kept the thought of McGurk back in his mind. +Only once he lost time when he had to pull up beside a buckboard and +inquire the way. After that he flew on again. Yet as he clattered up +to the door of Gaffney's crossroads saloon and swung to the ground he +looked back and saw a cluster of horsemen swing around the shoulder of +a hill and come tearing after him. Surely his time was short. + +He thrust open the door of the place and called for a drink. The +bartender spun the glass down the bar to him. + +"Where's McGurk?" + +The other stopped in the very act of taking out the bottle from the +shelf, and his curious glance went over the face of Pierre le Rouge. +He decided, apparently, that it was foolish to hold suspicions against +so young a man. + +"In that room," and he jerked his hand toward a door. "What do you +want with him?" + +"Got a message for him." + +"Tell it to me, and I'll pass it along." + +Pierre met the eye of the other and smiled faintly. + +"Not _this_ message." + +"Oh," said the other, and then shouted: "McGurk!" + +Far away came the rush of hoofs over a hard trail. Only a minute more +and they would be here; only a minute more and the room would be full +of fighting men ready to die with him and for him. Yet Pierre was +glad; glad that he could meet the danger alone; ten minutes from now, +if he lived, he could answer certainly one way or the other the +greatest of all questions: "Am I a man?" + +Out of the inner room the pleasant voice which he dreaded answered: +"What's up?" + +The barkeeper glanced Pierre le Rouge over again and then answered: "A +friend with a message." + +The door opened and framed McGurk. He did not start, seeing Pierre. + +He said: "None of the rest of them had the guts even to bring me the +message, eh?" + +Pierre shrugged his shoulders. It was a mighty effort, but he was able +to look his man fairly in the eyes. + +"All right, lad. How long is it going to take you to clear out of the +country?" + +"That's not the message," answered a voice which Pierre did not +recognize as his own. + +"Out with it, then." + +"It's in the leather on my hip." + +And he went for his gun. Even as he started his hand he knew that he +was too slow for McGurk, yet the finest split-second watch in the world +could not have caught the differing time they needed to get their guns +out of the holsters. + +Just a breath before Pierre fired there was a stunning blow on his +right shoulder and another on his hip. He lurched to the floor, his +revolver clattering against the wood as he fell, but falling, he +scooped up the gun with his left and twisted. + +That movement made the third shot of McGurk fly wide and Pierre fired +from the floor and saw a spasm of pain contract the face of the outlaw. + +Instantly the door behind him flew open and Boone's men stormed into +the room. Once more McGurk fired, but his wound made his aim wide and +the bullet merely tore up a splinter beside Pierre's head. A fusillade +from Boone and his men answered, but the outlaw had leaped back through +the door. + +"He's hurt," thundered Boone. "By God, the charm of McGurk is broken. +Dick, Bud, Gandil, take the outside of the place. I'll force the door." + +Wilbur and the other two raced through the door and raised a shout at +once, and then there was a rattle of shots. Big Patterson leaned over +Pierre. + +He said in an awe-stricken voice: "Lad, it's a great work that you've +done for all of us, if you've drawn the blood from McGurk." + +"His left shoulder," said Pierre, and smiled in spite of his pain. + +"And you, lad?" + +"I'm going to live; I've got to finish the job. Who's that beside you? +There's a mist over my eyes." + +"It's Jack. She outrode us all." + +Then the mist closed over the eyes of Pierre and his senses went out in +the dark. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +GOLD HAIR + +Those who are curious about the period which followed during which the +title "Le Rouge" was forgotten and he became known only as "Red" Pierre +through all the mountain-desert, can hear the tales of his doing from +the analists of the ranges. This story has to do only with his +struggle with McGurk, and must end where that struggle ended. + +The gap of six years which occurs here is due to the fact that during +that period McGurk vanished from the mountain-desert. He died away +from the eyes of men and in their minds he became that tradition which +lives still so vividly, the tradition of the pale face, the sneering, +bloodless lips, and the hand which never failed. + +During this lapse of time there were many who claimed that he had +ridden off into some lonely haunt and died of the wound which he +received from Pierre's bullet. A great majority, however, would never +accept such a story, and even when the six years had rolled by they +still shook their heads and "had their doubt on the matter" like +_Wouter Van Twiller_ of immortal memory. + +They awaited his return just as certain stanch old Britons await the +second coming of Arthur from the island of Avalon. In the mean time +the terror of his name passed on to him who had broken the "charm" of +McGurk. + +Not all that grim significance passed on to "Red" Pierre, indeed, +because he never impressed the public imagination as did the terrible +ruthlessness of McGurk. At that he did enough to keep tongues wagging. + +Cattlemen loved to tell those familiar exploits of the "two sheriffs," +or that "thousand-mile pursuit of Canby," with its half-tragic, +half-humorous conclusion, or the "Sacking of Two Rivers," or the +"three-cornered battle" against Rodriguez and Blond. + +But men could not forget that in all his work there rode behind Red +Pierre six dauntless warriors of the mountain-desert, while McGurk had +been always a single hand against the world, a veritable lone wolf. + +Whatever kept him away through those six years, the memory of the wound +he received at Gaffney's place never left McGurk, and now he was coming +back with a single great purpose in his mind, and in his heart a +consuming hatred for Pierre and all the other of Boone's men. + +Certainly if he had sensed the second coming of McGurk, Pierre would +not have ridden so jauntily through the hills this day, or whistled so +carelessly, or swept the hills with such a complacent, lordly eye. A +man of mark cannot bear himself too modestly, and Pierre, from boots to +high-peaked, broad-brimmed sombrero, was the last word in elegance for +a rider of the mountain-desert. + +Even his mount seemed to sense the pride of his master. It was a +cream-colored mustang, not one of the lump-headed, bony-hipped species +common to the ranges, but one of those rare reversions to the Spanish +thoroughbreds from which the Western cow-pony is descended. The mare +was not over-large, but the broad hips and generous expanse of chest +were hints, and only hints, of her strength and endurance. There was +the speed of the blooded racer in her and the tirelessness of the +mustang. + +Now, down the rocky, half broken trail she picked her way as daintily +as any debutante tiptoeing down a great stairway to the ballroom. Life +had been easy for Mary since that thousand-mile struggle to overtake +Canby, and now her sides were sleek from good feeding and some casual +twenty miles a day, which was no more to her than a canter through the +park is to the city horse. + +The eye which had been so red-stained and fierce during the long ride +after Canby was now bright and gentle. At every turn she pricked her +small sharp ears as if she expected home and friends on the other side +of the curve. And now and again she tossed her head and glanced back +at the master for a moment and then whinnied across some echoing ravine. + +It was Mary's way of showing happiness, and her master's acknowledgment +was to run his gloved left hand up through her mane and with his +ungloved right, that tanned and agile hand, pat her shoulder lightly. + +Passing to the end of the down-grade, they reached a slight upward +incline, and the mare, as if she had come to familiar ground, broke +into a gallop, a matchless, swinging stride. Swerving to right and to +left among the great boulders, like a football player running a broken +field, she increased the gallop to a racing pace. + +That twisting course would have shaken an ordinary horseman to the +toes, but Pierre, swaying easily in the saddle, dropped the reins into +the crook of his left arm and rolled a cigarette in spite of the motion +and the wind. It was a little feat, but it would have drawn applause +from a circus crowd. + +He spoke to the mare while he lighted a match and she dropped to an +easy canter, the pace which she could maintain from dawn to dark, +eating up the gray miles of the mountain and the desert, and it was +then that Red Pierre heard a gay voice singing in the distance. + +His attitude changed at once. He caught a shorter grip on the reins +and swung forward a little in the saddle, while his right hand touched +the butt of the revolver in its holster and made sure that it was +loose; for to those who hunt and are hunted every human voice in the +mountain-desert is an ominous token. + +The mare, sensing the change of her master through that weird +telegraphy which passed down the taut bridle reins, held her head high +and flattened her short ears against her neck. + +The song and the singer drew closer, and the vigilence of Pierre ceased +as he heard a mellow barytone ring out: + + "They call me poor, yet I am rich + In the touch of her golden hair, + My heart is filled like a miser's hands + With the red-gold of her hair. + The sky I ride beneath all day + Is the blue of her dear eyes; + The only heaven I desire + Is the blue of her dear eyes." + + +And here Dick Wilbur rode about the shoulder of a hill, broke off his +song at the sight of Pierre le Rouge, and shouted a welcome. They came +together and continued their journey side by side. The half-dozen +years had hardly altered the blond, handsome face of Wilbur, and now, +with the gladness of his singing still flushing his face, he seemed +hardly more than a boy--younger, in fact, than Red Pierre, into whose +eyes there came now and then a grave sternness. + +"After hearing that song," said Pierre smiling, "I feel as if I'd +listened to a portrait." + +"Right!" said Wilbur, with unabated enthusiasm. "It's the bare and +unadorned truth, Prince Pierre. My fine _Galahad_, if you came within +eye-shot of her there'd be a small-sized hell raised." + +"No. I'm immune there, you know." + +"Nonsense. The beauty of a really lovely woman is like a fine perfume. +It strikes right to a man's heart; there's no possibility of +resistance. I know. You, Pierre, act like a man already in love or a +boy who has never known a woman. Which is it, Pierre?" + +The other made a familiar gesture with those who knew him, a touching +of his left hand against his throat where the cross lay. + +He said: "I suppose it seems like that to you." + +"Like what? Dodging me, eh? Well, I never press the point, but I'd +give the worth of your horse, Pierre, to see you and Mary together." + +Red Pierre started, and then frowned. + +"Irritates you a little, eh? Well, a woman is like a spur to most men." + +He added, with a momentary gloom: "God knows, I bear the marks of 'em." + +He raised his head, as if he looked up in response to his thought. + +"But there's a difference with this girl. I've named the quality of +her before--a fragrance, you know, that disarms a man, and like a +fragrance there's just a touch of melancholy about her and an appeal +that follows after you when she's gone." + +Pierre looked to his friend with some alarm, for there was a saying +among the followers of Boone that a woman would be the downfall of big +Dick Wilbur again, as a woman had been his downfall before. The +difference would be that this fall must be his last. + +And Wilbur went on: "She's Eastern, Pierre, and out here visiting the +daughter of old Barnes who owns about a thousand miles of range, you +know. How long will she be here? That's the question I'm trying to +answer for her. I met her riding over the hills--she was galloping +along a ridge, and she rode her way right into my heart. Well, I'm a +fool, of course, but about this girl I can't be wrong. To-night I'm +taking her to a masquerade." + +He pulled his horse to a full stop. + +"Pierre, you have to come with me." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +ENNUI + +Pierre stared at his companion with almost open-mouthed astonishment. + +"I? A dance?" + +And then his head tilted back and he laughed. + +"My good times, Dick, come out of the hills and the sky-line, and the +gallop of Mary. But as for women, they bore me, Dick." + +"Even Jack?" + +"She's more man than woman." + +It was the turn of Wilbur to laugh, and he responded uproariously until +Pierre frowned and flushed a little. + +"When I see you out here on your horse with your rifle in the boot and +your six-gun swinging low in the scabbard, and riding the fastest bit +of horse-flesh on the ranges," explained Wilbur, "I get to thinking +that you're pretty much king of the mountains; but in certain respects, +Pierre, you're a child. Ha, ha, ha! a regular infant." + +Pierre stirred uneasily in his saddle. A man must be well over thirty +before he can withstand ridicule. + +He said dryly: "I've an idea that I know Jack about as well as the next +man." + +"Let it drop," said Wilbur, sober again, for he shared with all of +Boone's crew a deep-rooted unwillingness to press Red Pierre beyond a +certain point. "The one subject I won't quarrel about is Jack, God +bless her." + +"She's the best pal," said Pierre soberly, "and the nearest to a man +I've ever met." + +"Nearest to a man?" queried Wilbur, and smiled, but so furtively that +even the sharp eye of Red Pierre did not perceive the mockery. He went +on: + +"But the dance, what of that? It's a masquerade. There'd be no fear +of being recognized." + +Pierre was silent a moment more. Then he said: + +"This girl--what did you call her?" + +"Mary." + +"And about her hair--I think you said it was black?" + +"Golden, Pierre." + +"Mary, and golden hair," mused Red Pierre. "I think I'll go to that +dance." + +"With Jack? She dances wonderfully, you know." + +"Well--with Jack." + +So they reached a tumbled ranch-house squeezed between two hills so +that it was sheltered from the storms of the winter but held all the +heat of the summer. + +Once it had been a goodly building, the home of some cattle-king. But +bad times had come. + +A bullet in a saloon brawl put an end to the cattle king, and now his +home was a wreck of its former glory. The northern wing shelved down +to the ground as if the building were kneeling to the power of the +wind, and the southern portion of the house, though still erect, seemed +tottering and rotten throughout and holding together until at a final +blow the whole structure would crumple at once. + +To the stables, hardly less ruinous than the big house, Pierre and +Wilbur took their horses, and a series of whinnies greeted them from +the stalls. To look down that line of magnificent heads raised above +the partitions of the stalls was like glancing into the stud of some +crowned head who made hunting and racing his chief end in life, for +these were animals worthy of the sport of kings. + +They were chosen each from among literal hundreds and thousands, and +they were cared for far more tenderly than the masters cared for +themselves. There was a reason in it, for upon their speed and +endurance depended the life of the outlaw. Moreover, the policy of Jim +Boone was one of actual "long riding." + +Here he had come to a pause for a few days to recuperate his horses and +his men. To-morrow, perhaps, he would be on the spur again and +sweeping off to a distant point in the mountain desert to strike and be +gone again before the rangers knew well that he had been there. Very +rarely did one settler have another neighbor at a distance of less than +two hundred miles. It meant arduous and continual riding, and a horse +with any defect was worse than useless because the speed of the gang +had to be the speed of the slowest horse in the lot. + +It was some time before the two long riders had completed the grooming +of their horses and had gone down the hill and into the house. In the +largest habitable room they found a fire fed with rotten timbers from +the wrecked portion of the building, and scattered through the room a +sullen and dejected group: Mansie, Branch, Jim Boone, and Black Morgan +Gandil. + +At a glance it was easy to detect their malady; it was the horrible +ennui which comes to men who are always surrounded by one set of faces. +If a man is happily married he may bear with his wife and his children +constantly through long stretches of time, but the glamour of life lies +in the varying personalities which a man glimpses in passing, but never +knows. + +This was a rare crew. Every man of them was marked for courage and +stamina and wild daring. Yet even so in their passive moments they +hated each other with a hate that passed the understanding of common +men. + +Through seven years they had held together, through fair weather and +foul, and now each knew from the other's expression the words that were +about to be spoken, and each knew that the other was reading him, and +loathing what he read. + +So they were apt to relapse into long silences unless Jack was with +them, for being a woman her variety was infinite, or Pierre le Rouge, +whom all except Black Gandil loved and petted, and feared. + +They were a battered crowd. Wind and hard weather and a thousand suns +had marked them, and the hand of man had branded them. Here and there +was a touch of gray in their hair, and about the mouth of each were +lines which in such silent moments as this one gave an expression of +infinite and wistful yearning. + +"What's up? What's wrong?" asked Wilbur from the door, but since no +answer was deigned he said no more. + +But Pierre, like a charmed man who dares to walk among lions, strolled +easily through the room, and looked into the face of big Boone, who +smiled faintly up to him, and Black Gandil, who scowled doubly dark, +and Bud Mansie, who shifted uneasily in his chair and then nodded, and +finally to Branch. He dropped a hand on the massive shoulder of the +blacksmith. + +"Well?" he asked. + +Branch let himself droop back into his chair. His big, dull, colorless +eyes stared up to his friend. + +"I dunno, lad. I'm just weary with the sort of tired that you can't +help by sleepin'. Understand?" + +Pierre nodded, slowly, because he sympathized. "And the trouble?" + +Branch stared about as if searching for a reason. + +"Jack's up-stairs sulking; Patterson hasn't come home yet." + +And Black Gandil, who heard all things, said without looking up: "A man +that saves a ship-wrecked fellow, he gets bad luck for thanks." + +Pierre turned a considering eye on him, and Gandil scowled back. + +"You've been croaking for six years, Morgan, about the bad luck that +would come to Jim from saving me out of the snow. It's never happened, +has it?" + +Gandil, snarling from one side of his mouth, answered: "Where's +Patterson?" + +"Am I responsible if the blockhead has got drunk some place?" + +"Patterson doesn't get drunk--not that way. And he knows that we were +to start again to-day." + +"There ain't no doubt of that," commented Branch. + +"It's the straight dope. Patterson keeps his dates," said Bud Mansie. + +The booming bass of Jim Boone broke in: "Shut up, the whole gang of +you. We've had luck for the six years Pierre has been with us. Who +calls him a Jonah?" + +And Black Gandil answered: "I do. I've sailed the seas. I know bad +luck when I see it." + +"You've been seeing it for six years." + +"The worst storms come on a voyage that starts with fair weather. +Patterson? He's gone; he ain't just delayed; he's gone." + +It was not the first of these gloomy prophecies which Gandil had made, +but each time a heavy gloom broke over Red Pierre. For when he summed +up the good fortune which the cross of Father Victor had brought him, +he found that he had gained a father, and lost him at their first +meeting; and he had won money on that night of the gambling, but it had +cost the life of another man almost at once. The horse which carried +him away from the vengeance in Morgantown had died on the way and he +had been saved from the landslide, but the girl had perished. + +He had driven McGurk from the ranges, and where would the penalty fall +on those who were near and dear to him? In a superstitious horror he +had asked himself the question a thousand times, and finally he could +hardly bear to look into the ominous, brooding eyes of Black Gandil. +It was as if the man had a certain and evil knowledge of the future. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +BLACK GANDIL + +The knowledge of the torment he was inflicting made the eye of Black +Gandil bright with triumph. + +He continued, and now every man in the room was sitting up, alert, with +gloomy eyes fixed upon Pierre: "Patterson is the first, but he ain't +the last. He's just the start. Who's next?" He looked slowly around. + +"Is it you, Bud, or you, Phil, or you, Jim, or maybe me?" + +And Pierre said: "What makes you think you know that trouble's coming, +Morgan?" + +"Because my blood runs cold in me when I look at you." + +Red Pierre grew rigid and straightened in a way they knew. + +"Damn you, Gandil, I've borne with you and your croaking too long, d'ye +hear? Too long, and I'll hear no more of it, understand?" + +"Why not? You'll hear from me every time I sight you in the offing. +You c'n lay to that!" + +The others were tense, ready to spring for cover, but Boone reared up +his great figure. + +"Don't answer him, Pierre. You, Gandil, shut your face or I'll break +ye in two." + +The fierce eyes of Pierre le Rouge never wavered from his victim, but +he answered: "Keep out of this. This is my party. I'll tell you why +you'll stop gibbering, Gandil." + +He made a pace forward and every man shrank a little away from him. + +"Because the cold in your blood is part hate and more fear, Black +Gandil." + +The eyes of Gandil glared back for an instant. With all his soul he +yearned for the courage to pull his gun, but his arm was numb; he could +not move it, and his eyes wavered and fell. + +The shaggy gray head of Jim Boone fell likewise, and he was murmuring +to his savage old heart: + +"The good days are over. They'll never rest till one of 'em is dead, +and then the rest will take sides and we'll have gun-plays at night. +Seven years, and then to break up!" + +Dick Wilbur, as usual, was the pacifier. He strode across the room, +and the sharp sound of his heels on the creaking floor broke the +tension. He said softly to Pierre: "You've raised hell enough. Now +let's go up and get Jack down here to undo what you've just finished. +Besides, you've got to ask her for that dance, eh?" + +The glance of Pierre still lingered on Gandil as he turned and followed +Wilbur up the complaining stairs to the one habitable room in the +second story of the house. It was set aside for the use of Jacqueline. + +At the door Wilbur said: "Shrug your shoulders back; you look as if you +were going to jump at something. And wipe the wolf-look off your face. +After all, Jack's a girl, not a gun-fighter." + +Then he knocked and opened the door. + +She lay face down on her bunk, her head turned from them and toward the +wall. Slender and supple and strong, it was still only the size of her +boots and her hands that would make one look at her twice and then +guess that this was a woman, for she was dressed, from trousers even to +the bright bandanna knotted around her throat, like any prosperous +range rider. + +Now, to be sure, the thick coils of black hair told her sex, but when +the broad-brimmed sombrero was pulled well down on her head, when the +cartridge-belt and the six-gun were slung about her waist, and most of +all when she spurred her mount recklessly across the hills, no one +could have suspected that this was not some graceful boy born and bred +in the mountain-desert, wilful as a young mountain-lion, and as +dangerous. + +"Sleepy?" called Wilbur. + +She waited a moment and then queried with exaggerated impudence: "Well?" + +Ennui unspeakable was in that drawling monotone. + +"Brace up; I've got news for you." + +Her hand moved and all the graceful body, but it was only with a yawn. +What need was there to speak? She wished to be alone. + +"And I've brought Pierre along to tell you about it. + +"Oh!" + +And she sat bolt upright with shining eyes. Instantly she remembered +to yawn again, but her glance smiled on them above her hand. + +She apologized. "Awfully sleepy, Dick." + +But he was not deceived. He said: "There's a dance down near the +Barnes place, and Pierre wants you to go with him." + +Back tilted her head, and her throat stirred as if she were singing. + +"Pierre! A dance?" + +He explained: "Dick's lost his head over a girl with yellow hair, and +he wants me to go down and see her. He thought you might want to go +along." + +Her face changed like the moon when a cloud blows across it. Before +she answered she slipped down on the bunk again, pillowed her head +leisurely on her arm, and answered with another slow, insolent yawn: +"Thanks! I'm staying home to-night." + +Wilbur glared his rage covertly at Pierre, but the latter was blandly +unconscious that he had made any _faux pas_. + +He said carelessly: "Too bad. It might be interesting, Jack?" + +At his voice she looked up--a sharp and graceful toss of the head. + +"What?" + +"The girl with the yellow hair." + +"Then go ahead and see her. I won't keep you. You don't mind if I go +on sleeping? Sit down and be at home." + +With this she calmly turned her back again and seemed thoroughly +disposed to carry out her word. Red Pierre flushed a little, watching +her, and he spoke his anger outright: "You're acting like a sulky kid, +Jack, not like a man." + +It was a habit of his to forget that she was a woman. Without turning +her head she answered: "Do you want to know why?" + +"You're like a cat showing your claws. Go on! Tell me what the reason +is." + +"Because I get tired of you." + +In all his life he had never been so scorned. He did not see the +covert grin of Wilbur in the background. He blurted: "Tired?" + +"Awfully. You don't mind me being frank, do you, Pierre?" + +He could only stammer: "Sometimes I wish to God you were a man, Jack!" + +"You don't often remember that I'm a woman." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +She was silent, but there was a perceptible tremor in the graceful body. + +He repeated: "Do you mean that I'm rude or rough with you, Jacqueline?" + +Still the silence, but Wilbur was grinning broader than ever. "Answer +me!" + +She started up and faced him, her face convulsed with rage. + +"What do you want me to say? Yes, you are rude--I hate you and your +lot. Go away from me; I don't want you; I hate you all." + +And she would have said more, but furious sobs swelled her throat and +she could not speak, but dropped, face down, on the bunk and gripped +the blankets in each hard-set hand. Over her Pierre leaned, utterly +bewildered, found nothing that he could say, and then turned and +strode, frowning, from the room. Wilbur hastened after him and caught +him just as the door was closing. + +"Come back," he pleaded. "This is the best game I've ever seen. Come +back, Pierre! You've made a wonderful start." + +Pierre le Rouge shook off the detaining hand and glared up at Wilbur. + +"Don't try irony, Dick. I feel like murder. Think of it! All this +time she's been hating me; and now it's making her weep; think of +it--Jack--weeping!" + +"Why, you're a child, Pierre. Go back and take her in your arms and +tell her you're going to make her go to the dance." + +"Take her in my arms? She'd stab me, there's that much of the devil in +her. Don't grin at me and keep chuckling like an utter ass. What's +up, Dick?" + +"Don't you see? No, you don't, but it's so plain that a baby of three +years could understand. She's in love with you." + +"With me?" + +"With Red Pierre." + +"You can't make a joke out of Jack with me. You ought to know that." + +"Pierre, I'd as soon make a joke out of a wildcat." + +"Grinning still? Wilbur, I'm taking more from you than I would from +any man on the ranges." + +"I know you are, and that's why I'm stringing this out because I'm +going to have a laugh--ha, ha, ha!--the rest of my life--ha, ha, ha, +ha!--whenever I think of this--ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!" + +The burst of merriment left him speechless, and Pierre, glowering, his +right hand twitching dangerously close to that holster at his hip. He +sobered, and said: "Go in and talk to her and prove that I'm right." + +"Ask Jack if she loves me? Why, I'd as soon ask any man the same +question." + +The big long rider was instantly curious. + +"Has she never appealed to you as a woman, Pierre?" + +"How could she? I've watched her ride; I've watched her use her gun; +I've slept rolled in the same blankets with her, back to back; I've +walked and talked and traveled with her as if she were my kid brother." + +Wilbur nodded, as if the miracle were being slowly unfolded before his +eyes. + +"And you've never noticed anything different about her? Never watched +a little lift and grace in her walk that no man could ever have; never +heard her laugh in a voice that no man could ever imitate; never seen +her color change just because you, Pierre, came near or went far away +from her?" + +"Because of me?" asked the bewildered Pierre. + +"You fool, you! Why, lad, I've been kept amused by you two for a whole +evening, watching her play for your attention, saving her best smiles +for you, keeping her best attitudes for you, and letting all the +richness of her voice go out for--a block--a stone. Gad, the thing +still doesn't seem possible! Pierre, one instant of that girl would +give romance to a man's whole life." + +"This girl? This Jack of ours?" + +"He hasn't seen it! Why, if I hadn't seen years ago that she had tied +her hands and turned her heart over to you, I'd have been down on my +knees to her a thousand times, begging her for a smile, a shadow of a +hope." + +"If I didn't know you, Dick, I'd say that you were partly drunk and +partly a fool." + +"Here's a hundred--a cold hundred that I'm right. I'll make it a +thousand, if you dare." + +"Dare what?" + +"Ask her to marry you." + +"Marry--me?" + +"Damn it all--well, then--whatever you like. But I say that if you go +back into that room and sit still and merely look at her, she'll be in +your arms within five minutes." + +"I hate to take charity, but a bet is a bet. That hundred is in my +pocket already. It's a go!" + +They shook hands. + +"But what will be your proof, Dick, whether I win or lose?" + +"Your face, blockhead, when you come out of the room." + +Upon this Pierre pondered a moment, and then turned toward the door. +He set his hand on the knob, faltered, and finally set his teeth and +entered the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +FIVE MINUTES' SILENCE + +She lay as he had left her, except that her face was now pillowed in +her arms, and the long sobs kept her body quivering. Awe and curiosity +swept over Pierre, looking down at her, but chiefly a puzzled grief +such as a strong man feels when a friend is in trouble. He came closer +and laid a hand on her shoulder. + +"Jack!" + +She turned far enough to strike his hand away and instantly resumed her +former position, though the sobs were softer. This childish anger +irritated him. He was about to storm out of the room when the thought +of the hundred dollars stopped him. It was not that he hoped to win +the money, for dollars rolled easily into his hands and out again, but +the bet had been made, and it was his pride that he would play out his +part of it. It seemed unsportsmanlike to leave without some effort. + +The effort which he finally made was that suggested by Wilbur. He +folded his arms and stood silent, waiting, and ready to judge the time +as nearly as he could until the five minutes should have elapsed. He +was so busy computing the minutes that it was with a start that he +noticed some time later that the weeping had ceased. She lay quiet. +Her hand was dabbing furtively at her face for a purpose which Pierre +could not surmise. + +At last a broken voice murmured: "Pierre!" + +He would not speak, but something in the voice made his anger go. +After a little it came, and louder this time: "Pierre?" + +He did not stir. + +She whirled and sat on the edge of the bunk, crying: "Pierre!" with a +note of fright. Then she flushed richly. + +"I thought perhaps you were gone. I thought--Pierre--I was afraid--I +mean I hoped--" + +She could not go on. + +And still he persisted in that silence, his arms folded, the keen blue +eyes considering her as if from a great distance. + +She explained: "I was afraid--Pierre! Why don't you speak? Tell me, +are you angry?" + +And she sprang up and made a pace toward him. She had never seemed so +little manlike, so wholly womanly. For the thick coils of hair were +loosed on her head, and the black hair framed a face stained, flushed, +with eyes that were like a great black, bottomless well of sorrow and +wistfulness. And the hand which stretched toward him, palm up, was a +symbol of everything new and strange that he found in her. + +He had seen it balled to a small, angry fist, brown and dangerous; he +had seen it gripping the butt of a revolver, ready for the draw; he had +seen it tugging at the reins and holding a racing horse in check with +an ease which a man would envy; but never before had he seen it turned +palm up, to his knowledge; and now, because he could not speak to her, +according to his plan, he studied her thoroughly for the first time. + +Slender and marvelously made was that hand. The whole woman was in it, +finely fashioned, delicate, made for beauty, not for use. It was all +he could do to keep from exclaiming. + +She made a quick step toward him, eager, uncertain: + +"Pierre, I thought you had left me--that you were gone, and angry." + +The hearts of men are tinder; something caught on fire in Pierre, but +still he would say nothing. He was beginning to feel a cruel pleasure +in his victory, but it was not without a deep sense of danger. + +She had laid aside her six-gun, but she had not abandoned it. She had +laid aside her anger, but she could resume it again as swiftly as she +could take up her revolver. + +He exulted in the touch of victory, but it was as a man who rides a +horse that paces docilely beneath him but may plunge into a fury of +bucking in a moment. She was closer--very close, and somehow he knew +that at his pleasure he could make her smile or tremble by speaking. +Yet he would not speak. The five minutes were not yet up. + +She cried with a little burst of rage: "Pierre, you are making a game +of me!" + +But seeing that he did not change she altered swiftly and caught his +hand in both of hers. She spoke the name which she always used when +she was greatly moved. + +"Ah, Pierre le Rouge, what have I done?" + +His silence tempted her on like the smile of the sphinx. + +And suddenly she was inside his arms, though how she separated them he +could not tell, and crying: "Pierre, I am unhappy. Help me, Pierre!" + +It was true, then, and Wilbur had won his bet. But how could it have +happened? He took the arms that encircled his neck and brought them +slowly down, and watched her curiously. Something was expected of him, +but what it was he could not tell, for women were as strange to him as +the wild sea is strange to the Arab. + +He hunted his mind, and then: "One of the boys has angered you, Jack?" + +And she said, because she could think of no way to cover the confusion +which came to her after the outbreak: "Yes." + +He dropped her arms and strode a pace or two up and down the room. + +"Gandil?" + +"N-no!" + +"You're lying. It was Gandil." + +And he made straight for the door. + +She ran after him and flung herself between him and the door. Clearly, +as if it were a painted picture, she saw him facing Gandil--saw their +hands leap for the guns--saw Gandil pitch face forward on the +floor--writhe all his limbs--and then lie still. "Pierre--for God's +sake!" + +Her terror convinced him partially, and the furor went back from his +eyes as a light goes back in a long, dark hall. + +"On your honor, Jack, it's not Gandil?" + +"On my honor." + +"But some one has broken you up." + +"No, I--" + +"Don't lie. Why, even while you look at me your color changes. You're +pale one minute and red the next. Some one has crossed you, Jack. And +whoever crosses you crosses me, by God! Out with his name! Is it +Branch?" + +"No." + +"Then it's big Patterson." + +"No." + +"I have it! Mansie! There's always something of the sneak about him +that I never liked." + +"No, no!" + +"It is! He came up to you and whispered some dog's remark for you to +hear. Damn him--I never trusted Mansie!" + +He pushed her away from the door and set his hand on the knob, but he +could not keep her back. She was upon him again and twisted between +him and the entrance to the room. + +"Pierre, upon my honor, it was none of these men." + +He could not help but believe. + +"Only Wilbur is left. Jack, I'd rather raise my hand against myself +than to harm Dick, but if--" + +"I'll never tell you who it was. Don't you see? It would be like a +murder in cold blood if I were to send you after him." + +"But he's here--he's one of us, this man who's bothered you." + +She could not help but answer: "Yes." + +He scowled down at the floor. + +"You would never be able to guess who it is. Give it up. After all--I +can live through it--I guess." + +"It's something that has saddened you. Do you know, we've been so much +together that I can almost read your mind, in a way. Why are you +smiling?" + +"I wish that you could read it--Pierre--at times." + +He took her face between his hands and frowned down into her eyes. At +his touch she grew very pale and trembled as If a wind were striking +against her. + +"You see, you've been so near to me, and so dear to me all these years, +Jack, that you're like a sister, almost." + +"And you to me, Pierre." + +"But different--nearer even than a sister." + +"So much nearer!" + +"It's queer, isn't it? But you can't forget this trouble you've had. +The tears come up in your eyes again. Tell me his name, Jack, and the +dog--" + +She said: "Only let me go. Take your hands away, Pierre." + +He obeyed her, deeply worried, and she stood for a moment with a hand +pressed over her eyes, swaying. He had never seen her like this; he +was like a pilot striving to steer his ship through an unfathomable +fog. Following what had become an instinct with him, he raised his +left hand and touched the cross beneath his throat. And inspiration +came to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +PARTNERS + +"Whether you want to or not, Jack, we'll go to this dance to-night." + +Jacqueline's hand fell away from her eyes. She seemed suddenly glad +again. + +"Do you want to take me, Pierre?" + +He explained: "Of course. Besides, we have to keep an eye on Wilbur. +This girl with the yellow hair--" + +She had altered swiftly again. There was no understanding her or +following her moods this day. He decided to disregard them, as he had +often done before. + +"Black Gandil swears that I'm bringing bad luck to the boys at last. +Patterson has disappeared; Wilbur has lost his head about a girl. +We've got to save Dick." + +He knew that she was fond of Wilbur, but she showed no enthusiasm now. + +"Let him go his own way. He's big enough to take care of himself." + +"But it's common talk, Jack, that the end of Wilbur will come through a +woman. It was that that sent him on the long trail, you know. And +this girl with the yellow hair--" + +"Why do you harp on her?" + +"Harp on her?" + +"Every other word--nothing but yellow hair. I'm sick of it. I know +the kind--faded corn color--dyed, probably. Pierre, you are all blind, +and you most of all." + +This being obviously childish, Pierre brushed the consideration of it +from his mind. + +"And for clothes, Jack?" + +They were both dumb. It had been years since she had worn the clothes +of a woman. She had danced with the men of her father's gang many a +time while some one whistled or played on a mouth-organ, and there was +the time they rode into Beulah Ferry and held up the dance-hall, and +Jim Boone and Mansie lined up the crowd with their hands held high +above their heads while the sweating musicians played fast and furious +and Jack and Pierre danced down the center of the hall. + +She had danced many a time, but never in the clothes of a woman; so +they stared, mutely puzzled. + +A thought came first to Jacqueline. It obliterated even the memory of +the yellow-haired girl and set her eyes dancing. She stepped close and +murmured her suggestion in the ear of Pierre. Whatever it was, it made +his jaw set hard and brought grave lines into his face. + +She stepped back, asking: "Well?" + +"We'll do it. What a little demon you are, Jack!" + +"Then we'll have to start now. There's barely time." + +They ran from the room together, and as they passed through the room +below Wilbur called after them: "The dance?" + +"Yes." + +"Wait and go with me." + +"We ride in a roundabout way." + +They were through the door as Pierre called back, and a moment later +the hoofs of their horses scattered the gravel down the hillside. +Jacqueline rode a black stallion sired by her father's mighty Thunder, +who had grown old but still could do the work of three ordinary horses +in carrying the great bulk of his master. The son of Thunder was +little like his sire, but a slender-limbed racer, graceful, nervous, +eager. A clumsy rider would have ruined the horse in a single day's +hard work among the trails of the mountain-desert, but Jacqueline, +fairly reading the mind of the black, nursed his strength when it was +needed and let him run free and swift when the ground before him was +level. + +Now she picked her course dexterously down the hillside with the +cream-colored mare of Pierre following half a length behind. + +After the first down-pitch of ground was covered they passed into +difficult terrain, and for half an hour went at a jog trot, winding in +and out among the rocks, climbing steadily up and up through the hills. + +Here the ground opened up again, and they roved on at a free gallop, +the black always half a length in front. In all the length of the +mountain-desert there was no other picture which could compare with +these two in their youth and their pride and their fearlessness. + +They rode alert, high-headed like their horses, and there was about +them a suggestion of the patience which carries a man endlessly after +one purpose, and a suggestion of the eagerness, too, which makes him +strike swift and hard and surely when the time for action comes. + +Along the ridge of a crest, an almost level stretch of a mile or more, +Jack eased the grip on the reins, and the black responded with a sudden +lengthening of stride and lowered his head with ears pressed back flat +while he fairly flew over the ground. + +Nothing could match that speed. The strong mare fell to the rear, +fighting gamely, but beaten by that effort of the stallion. + +Jack swerved in the saddle and looked back, laughing her triumph. +Pierre smiled grimly in response and leaned forward, shifting his +weight more over the withers of Mary. He spoke to her, and one of her +pricking ears fell back as if to listen to his voice. He spoke again +and the other ear fell back, her neck straightened, she gave her whole +heart to her work. + +First she held the stallion even, then she began to gain. That was the +meaning of those round, strong hips, and the breadth of the chest. She +needed a half-mile of running to warm her to her work, and now the +black came back to her with every leap. + +The thunder of the approaching hoofs warned the girl. One more glance +she cast in apprehension over her shoulder, and then brought her spurs +into play again and again. Still the rush of hoofs behind her grew +louder and louder, and now there was a panting at her side and the head +of cream-colored Mary drew up and past. + +She gave up the battle with a little shout of anger and slowed up her +mount with a sharp pull on the reins. It needed only a word from +Pierre and his mare drew down to a hand-gallop, twisting her head a +little toward the black as if she called for some recognition of her +superiority. + +"It's always this way," cried Jack, and jerked at the reins with a +childish impotence of anger. "I beat you for the first quarter of a +mile and then this fool of a horse--I'm going to give him away." + +"The black," said Pierre, assuming an air of quiet and superior knowing +which always aggravated her most, "is a good second-rate cayuse when +some one who knows horses is in the saddle. I'd give you fifty for him +on the strength of his looks and keep him for a decoration." + +She could only glare her speechless rage for a moment. Then she +changed swiftly and threw out her hands in a little gesture of +surrender. + +"After all, what difference does it make? Your Mary can beat him in a +long run or a short one, but it's your horse, Pierre, and that takes +the sting away. If it were any one else's I'd--well, I'd shoot either +the horse or the rider. But my partner's horse is my horse, you know." + +She broke into song, the clear voice flinging back from the +mountainside to the cańon that dropped on their right: + + "My partner's horse is my horse, bunky-- + From his fetlock to the bucking-strap, + From his flying hoofs to the saddle-flap-- + My partner's horse is my horse, bunky. + + "My partner's gun is my gun, bunky-- + From the chamber to the trigger-guard; + And the butt like a friend's hand gripping hard-- + My partner's gun is my gun, bunky. + + "My partner's heart is my heart, bunky-- + And like matched horses galloping well, + They will beat together through heaven and hell-- + My partner's heart is my heart, bunky." + + +He swerved his mare sharply to the left and took her hand with a strong +grip. + +"Jack, of all the men I've ever known, I'd rather walk with you, I'd +rather talk with you, I'd rather ride with you, I'd rather fight for +you. Jack, you're the best pal that ever wore spurs, and the gamest +sport." + +"Of all the men you ever knew," she said, "I suppose that I am." + +He did not hear the low voice, for he was looking out over the cańon +and whistling the refrain of her song happily. A few moments later +they swung out onto the very crest of the range. + +On all sides the hills dropped away through the gloom of the evening, +brown near by, but falling off through a faint blue haze and growing +blue-black with the distance. A sharp wind, chill with the coming of +night, cut at them. Not a hundred feet overhead shot a low-winging +hawk back from his day's hunting and rising only high enough to clear +the range and then plunge down toward his nest. + +Like the hawks they peered down from their point of vantage into the +profound gloom of the valley below. They shaded their eyes and studied +it with a singular interest for long moments, patient, silent, quiet as +the hawk when he steadies himself in leisurely circles high in the +heart of heaven and fixes his eyes surely on his prey far, far +below--then folds his wings and shoots suddenly down, a veritable bolt +from the blue. + +So these two marauders stared until she raised a hand slowly and then +pointed down. He followed the direction she indicated, and there, +through the haze of the evening, he made out a glimmer of lights. + +He said sharply: "I know the place, but we'll have a devil of a ride to +get there." + +And like the swooping hawk they started down the slope. It was +precipitous in many places, but Pierre kept almost at a gallop, making +the mare take the slopes often crouched back on her haunches with +forefeet braced forward, and sliding many yards at a time. + +In between the boulders he darted, twisting here and there, and always +erect and jaunty in the saddle, swaying easily with every movement of +Mary. Not far behind him came the girl. Fine rider that she was, she +could not hope to compete with such matchless horsemanship where man +and horse were only one piece of strong brawn and muscle, one daring +spirit. Many a time the chances seemed too desperate to her, but she +followed blindly where he led, setting her teeth at each succeeding +venture, and coming out safe every time, until they swung out at last +through a screen of brush and onto the level floor of the valley. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +FULL DRESS + +In the heart of that valley two roads crossed. Many a year before a +man with some imagination and illimitable faith was moved by the +crossing of those roads to build a general merchandise store. + +Time justified his faith, in a small way, and now McGuire's store was +famed for leagues and leagues about, for he dared to take chances with +all manner of novelties, and the curious, when their pocketbooks were +full, went to McGuire's to find inspiration. + +Business was dull this night, however; there was not a single patron at +the bar, and the store itself was empty, so he went to put out the big +gasoline lamp which hung from the ceiling in the center of the room, +and was on the ladder, reaching high above his head, when a singular +chill caught him in the center of his plump back and radiated from that +spot in all directions, freezing his blood. He swallowed the lump in +his throat and with his arms still stretched toward the lamp he turned +his head and glanced behind. + +Two men stood watching him from a position just inside the door. How +they had come there he could never guess, for the floor creaked at the +lightest step. Nevertheless, these fantoms had appeared silently, and +now they must be dealt with. He turned on the ladder to face them, and +still he kept the arms automatically above his head while he descended +to the floor. + +However, on a closer examination, these two did not seem particularly +formidable. They were both quite young, one with dark-red hair and a +somewhat overbright eye; the other was hardly more than a boy, very +slender, delicately made, the sort of handsome young scoundrel whom +women cannot resist. + +Having made these observations McGuire ventured to lower his arms by +jerks; nothing happened; he was safe. So he vented his feelings by +scowling on the strangers. + +"Well," he snapped, "what's up? Too late for business. I'm closin' +up." + +The two quite disregarded him. Their eyes were wandering calmly about +the place, and now they rested on the pride of McGuire's store. The +figure of a man in evening clothes, complete from shoes to gloves and +silk hat, stood beside a girl of wax loveliness. She wore a low-cut +gown of dark green, and over her shimmering, cold white shoulders was +draped a scarf of dull gold. Above, a sign said: "You only get married +once; why don't you do it up right?" + +"That," said the taller stranger, "ought to do very nicely for us, eh?" + +And the younger replied in a curiously light, pleasant voice: "Just +what we want. But how'll I get away with all that fluffy stuff, eh?" + +The elder explained: "We're going to a bit of a dance and we'll take +those evening clothes." + +The heart of McGuire beat faster and his little eyes took in the +strangers again from head to foot. + +"They ain't for sale," he said. "They's just samples. But right over +here--" + +"This isn't a question of selling," said the red-headed man. "We've +come to accept a little donation, McGuire." + +The storekeeper grew purple and white in patches. Still there was no +show of violence, no display of guns; he moved his hand toward his own +weapon, and still the strangers merely smiled quietly on him. He +decided that he had misunderstood, and went on: "Over here I got a line +of goods that you'll like. Just step up and--" + +The younger man, frowning now, replied: "We don't want to see any more +of your junk. The clothes on the models suit us all right. Slip 'em +off, McGuire." + +"But--" began McGuire and then stopped. + +His first suspicion returned with redoubled force; above all, that head +of dark red hair made him thoughtful. He finished hoarsely: "What the +hell's this?" + +"Why," smiled the taller man, "you've never done much in the interests +of charity, and now's a good time for you to start. Hurry up, McGuire; +we're late already!" + +There was a snarl from the storekeeper, and he went for his gun, but +something in the peculiarly steady eyes of the two made him stop with +his fingers frozen hard around the butt. A mighty sickness overwhelmed +McGuire, and before his eyes there swam a dark mist. + +He whispered: "You're Red Pierre?" + +"The clothes," repeated Pierre sternly, "on the jump, McGuire." + +And with a jump McGuire obeyed. His hands trembled so that he could +hardly remove the scarf from the shoulders of the model, but afterward +fear made his fingers supple. He lifted up the green gown; white, +filmy clothes showed underneath. + +There came a sharp cry from Jack: "Turn away, Pierre; turn quick and +don't dare to look. I'll take care of McGuire." + +And Pierre le Rouge turned, grinning. When she told him that he could +look again, he found her with a bright spot of color in either cheek, +and her eyes avoided his. It thrilled Pierre, and yet it troubled him, +for she seemed changed, all at once, less of a comrade, and strangely +aloof. McGuire was doing up the clothes in two bundles. + +Jacqueline took one of them and Pierre the other under his left arm; +with his right hand he drew out some yellow coins. + +"I didn't buy these clothes because I didn't have the time to dicker +with you, McGuire. I've heard you talk prices before, you know. But +here's what the clothes are worth to us." + +And into the quaking hands of McGuire he poured a chinking stream of +gold pieces. + +Relief, amazement, and a very wholesome fear struggled in the face of +McGuire as he saw himself threefold overpaid. At that little yellow +heap he remained staring, unheeding the sound of the retreating +outlaws. At it he still stared with fascinated eyes while the door +banged and the clatter of galloping hoofs began. + +"It ain't possible," he said at last, "thieves have begun to pay." + +His eyes sought the ceiling. + +"So that's Red Pierre?" said McGuire. + +As for Pierre and Jacqueline, they were instantly safe in the black +heart of the mountains. Many a mile of hard riding lay before them, +however, and already the dance must be nearly ready to begin in the +Crittenden schoolhouse. There was no road, not even a trail that they +could follow. They had never even seen the Crittenden schoolhouse; +they knew its location only by vague descriptions. + +But they had ridden a thousand times in places far more bewildering and +less known to them. Like all true denizens of the mountain-desert, +they had a sense of direction as uncanny as that of an Eskimo. Now +they struck off confidently through the dark and trailed up and down +through the mountains until they reached a hollow in the center of +which shone a group of dim lights. It was the schoolhouse near the +Barnes place, the scene of the dance. + +So they turned back behind the hills and in the covert of a group of +cottonwoods they kindled two more little fires, shading them on three +sides with rocks and leaving them open for the sake of light on the +fourth. + +They worked busily for a time, without a word spoken by either of them. +The only sound was the rustling of Jacqueline's stolen silks and the +purling of a small stream of water near them, some meager spring. + +But presently: "P-P-Pierre, I'm f-freezing." + +He himself was numbed by the chill air and paused in the task of +thrusting a leg into the trousers, which persisted in tangling and +twisting under his foot. + +"So'm I. It's c-c-cold as the d-d-d-devil." + +"And these--th-things--aren't any thicker than spider webs." + +"Wait. I'll build you a great big fire." + +And he scooped up a number of dead twigs. + +"P-P-Pierre! D-d-d-don't you d-d-dare c-come in s-sight of m-me." + +"D-d-damn it! I don't want to see you." + +"P-Pierre! Aren't you ash-sh-sh-shamed to talk like that?" + +"Jack, this damned collar won't button." + +"K-k-eep t-t-t-trying." + +"Come help me." + +"Pierre! How can I come dressed like th-th-this?" + +"I'm n-n-not going to the dance." + +"P-P-P-Pierre!" + +"I'm not." + +"Then I am." + +"W-w-w-without me?" + +"Y-y-yes." + +"Jack, you're a flirt." + +"I hate you, Pierre!" + +"Thank G-G-G-God! The collar's on." + +"I can't tie this--th-th-thing." + +"I'll come help you." + +"N-n-n-no!" + +"What is it?" + +"The thing that g-g-goes around me." + +"C-c-c-corset?" + +A silence. + +"Pierre!" + +"W-well?" + +"It's t-t-tied!" + +"But this damned tie isn't!" + +"I'll do it for you." + +And then: "N-n-no. Go b-b-b-back!" + +He fixed the eye-glass on his nose and laughed at the thought of +himself. + +"Pierre." + +"Well?" + +"I've got the dress on." + +"Then I can come?" + +He was warm enough now, with the suit on and even the tie knotted, +after a fashion. + +"No. I st-t-till feel just n-n-n-naked, Pierre." + +"Is there something missing?" + +"Yes. Around the shoulders." + +"Take the scarf." + +There was an interlude of more rustling, then: + +"P-P-Pierre." + +"Well?" + +"I wish I had a m-m-m-mirror." + +"Jack, are you vain?" + +A cry of delight answered him. He threw caution to the winds and +advanced on her. He found her kneeling above a pool of water fed by +the soft sliding little stream from the spring. With one hand she held +a burning twig by way of a torch, and with the other she patted her +hair into shape and finally thrust the comb into the glittering, heavy +coils. + +She started, as if she felt his presence without looking, and knelt +with body erect. + +"P-P-Pierre!" + +"Yes?" + +"C-c-c-close your eyes." + +He obeyed. + +"Look!" + +She stood with the torch high overhead, and he saw a beauty so glorious +that he closed his eyes involuntarily and still he saw the vision in +the dull-green gown, with the scarf of old gold about her shoulders and +the skin peering out here and there, dazzling white. And there were +two lights, the barbaric red of the jewels in her hair, and the black +shimmer of her eyes. He drew back a step more. It was a picture to be +looked at from a distance. + +She ran to him with a cry of dismay: + +"Pierre, what's wrong with me?" + +His arms went round her of their own accord. It was the only place +they could go. And all this fragrant, marvelous beauty was held in the +circle of his will. + +"It isn't that, but you're so wonderful, Jack, so glorious, that I +hardly know you. You're like a different person." + +He felt the warm body trembling, and the thought that it was not +entirely from the cold set his heart beating like a trip-hammer. What +he felt was so strange to him that he stepped back in a vague alarm, +and then laughed. She stood with a half whimsical half expectant smile. + +"Jack, how am I to risk you in the arms of all the strangers in that +dance?" + +The light of Alexander when he dreamed of new worlds to conquer came +into those wide black eyes. + +"It's late. Listen!" + +She cupped a hand at her ear and leaned to listen. Up from the hollow +below them came a faint strain of music, a very light sound that was +drowned a moment later by the solemn rushing of the wind through the +great trees above them. + +They looked up of one accord. + +"Pierre, what was that?" + +"Nothing; the wind in the branches, that's all." + +"It was a hushing sound. It was like--it was like a warning, almost." + +But he was already turning away, and she followed him hastily. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE DANCE + +Jacqueline could never back a horse in that gown, or even sit sidewise +in the saddle without hopelessly crumpling it, so they walked to the +schoolhouse. It was a slow progress, for she had to step lightly and +carefully for fear of the slippers. He took her bare arm and helped +her; he would never have thought of it under ordinary conditions, but +since she had put on this gown she was greatly changed to him, no +longer the wild, free rider of the mountain-desert, but a defenseless, +strangely weak being. Her strength was now something other than the +skill to ride hard and shoot straight and quick. + +Greatest wonder of all, she accepted the new relation tacitly, and +leaned more and more weight on his hand, and even looked up and laughed +with pleasure when he almost lifted her over a muddy runlet. It was +all new, very strange, and, oddly enough, not unpleasant. Each was +viewing the other from such an altered point that neither spoke. + +So they came to the schoolhouse in this silence, and reached the long +line of buggies, buckboards, and, most of all, saddled horses. They +flooded the horse-shed where the school children stabled their mounts +in the winter weather. They were tethered to the posts of the fence; +they were grouped about the trees. + +It was a prodigious gathering, and a great affair for the +mountain-desert. They knew this even before they had set foot within +the building. + +They stopped here and adjusted their masks carefully. They were made +from a strip of black lining which Jack had torn from one of the coats +in the trunk which lay far back in the hills. + +Those masks had to be tied firmly and well, for some jester might try +to pull away that of Pierre, and if his face were seen, it would be +death--a slaughter without defense, for he had not been able to conceal +his big Colt in these tight-fitting clothes. Even as it was, there was +peril from the moment that the lights within should shine on that head +of dark-red hair. + +As for Jack, there was little fear that she would be recognized. She +was strange even to Pierre every time he looked down at her, for she +had ceased to be Jack and had become very definitely "Jacqueline." But +the masks were on; the scarf adjusted about the throat and bare, +shivering shoulders of Jack, and they stood arm in arm before the door +out of which streamed the voices and the music. + +"Are you ready?" + +"Yes." + +"Pierre--if they should find us out--" + +"Never in a thousand years. Are you ready?" + +"Yes." + +But she was trembling so, either from fear, or excitement, or both, +that he had to take a firm hold on her arm and almost carry her up the +steps, shove the door open, and force her in. + +A hundred eyes were instantly upon them, practised, suspicious eyes, +accustomed to search into all things and take nothing for granted; eyes +of men who, when a rap came at their door, looked to see whether or not +the shadow of the stranger fell full in the center of the crack beneath +the door. If it fell to one side the man might be an enemy, and +therefore they would stand at one side of the room, their hands upon +the butt of the six-gun, and shout: "Come in." Such was the battery of +glances from the men, and the color of Pierre altered, paled. + +He knew some of those faces, for those who hunt and are hunted never +forget the least gestures of their enemies. There was a mighty +temptation to turn back even then, but he set his teeth and forced +himself to stand calmly, adjust the absurd eye-glass on his nose, and +stare about the room. + +The chuckle which replied to this maneuver freed him for the moment. +Suspicion was lulled. Moreover, the red-jeweled hair of Jacqueline and +her lighted eyes called all attention almost immediately upon her. She +shifted the golden scarf--the white arms and breast flashed in the +light--a gasp responded. There would be talk to-morrow; there were +whispers even now. + +It was not the main hall that they stood in, for this school, having +been built by an aspiring community, contained two rooms; this smaller +room, used by the little ones of the school, was now converted into a +hat-and-cloak room, and here also were a dozen baskets and boxes filled +with comforters and blankets. + +It was because of what lay in those baskets that the men and the women +walked and talked softly in this room. They were wary lest they should +arouse a sound which not even the loudest music could quite drown--a +sound which makes all women sit up straight and sniff like hunted +animals at bay, and makes all men frown and glance about for places of +refuge. + +Now and then some girl came panting and flushed from the dance-hall +within and tiptoed to one of these baskets, and raised an edge of a +blanket and looked down at the contents with a singular smile. Pierre +hung up his hat, removed his gloves slowly, nerving himself to endure +the sharp glances, and opened the door for Jacqueline. + +If she had held back tremulously before, something she had seen in the +eyes of those in the first room, something in the whisper and murmur +which rose the moment she started to leave, gave her courage. She +stepped into the dance-hall like a queen going forth to address devoted +subjects. + +The second ordeal was easier than the first. There were many times +more people in that crowded room, but each was intent upon his own +pleasure. A wave of warmth and light swept upon them, and a blare of +music, and a stir and hum of voices, and here and there the sweet sound +of a happy girl's laughter. They raised their heads, these two wild +rangers of the mountain-desert, and breathed deep of the fantastic +scene. + +It was marvelous, indeed, that so much gay life could exist within the +arms of those gaunt, naked hills beyond the windows. There was no +attempt at beauty in the costumes of the masqueraders. Here and there +some girl achieved a novel and pleasing effect; but on the whole they +strove for cheaper and more stirring things in the line of the +grotesque. + +Here passed a youth wearing a beard made from the stiff, red bristles +of the tail of a sorrel horse. Another wore a bear's head cunningly +stuffed, the grinning teeth flashing over his head and the skin draped +over his shoulders. A third disfigured himself horribly by painting +after the fashion of an Indian on the war-path, with crimson streaks +down his forehead and red and black across his cheeks. + +But not more than a third of all the assembly made any effort to +masquerade, beyond the use of the simple black mask across the upper +part of the face. The rest of the men and women contented themselves +with wearing the very finest clothes they could afford to buy, and +there was through the air a scent of the general merchandise store +which not even a liberal use of cheap perfume and all the drifts of +pale-blue cigarette smoke could quite overcome. + +As for the music, it was furnished by two very old men, relics of the +days when there were contests in fiddling; a stout fellow of middle +age, with cheeks swelled almost to bursting as he thundered out +terrific blasts on a slide trombone; a youth who rattled two sticks on +an overturned dish-pan in lieu of a drum, and a cornetist of real skill. + +In an interlude, before very long, he would amuse with a solo, +including all sorts of runs and whistling notes, and be a source of +talk for many a month to come. + +There were hard faces in the crowd, most of them, of men who had set +their teeth against hard weather and hard men, and fought their way +through, not to happiness, but to existence, so that fighting had +become their pleasure. + +Now they relaxed their eternal vigilance, their eternal suspicion. +Another phase of their nature weakened. Some of them were smiling and +laughing for the first time in months, perhaps, of bitter labor and +loneliness on the range. With the gates of good-nature opened, a +veritable flood of gaiety burst out. It glittered in their eyes, it +rose to their lips in a wild laughter. They seemed to be dancing more +furiously fast in order to forget the life which they had left, and to +which they must return. + +And through all the cheapness there was a great note of poetry as well; +but one caught this only by a sense of intuition, or by remembering +that these were the conquerors of the bitter nature of the +mountain-desert. There was beauty here, the beauty of strength in the +men and a brown loveliness in the girls; just as in the music, the +blatancy of the rattling dish-pan and the blaring trombone were more +than balanced by the real skill of the violinists, who kept a high, +sweet, singing tone through all the clamor. + +One could close his ears to the rest of the noise, if he strove to do +so, and hear nothing but that harmonious moaning of the strings, steady +and clear, like the aspirations of a man divorced from the facts of his +weakness and his crudeness in practical life. + +And Pierre le Rouge and Jacqueline? They stood aghast for a moment +when that crash of noise broke around them; but they came from a life +where there was nothing of beauty except the lonely strength of the +mountains and the appalling silences of the stars that roll above the +desert. Almost at once they caught the overtone of human joyousness, +and they turned with strange smiles to each other, and it was "Pierre?" +"Jack?" Then a nod, and she was in his arms, and they glided into the +dance. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE OVERTONE + +When a crowd gathers in the street, there rises a babel of voices, a +confused and pointless clamor, no matter what the purpose of the +gathering, until some man who can think as well as shout begins to +speak. Then the crowd murmurs a moment, and after a few seconds +composes itself to listen. + +So it was with the noise in the hall when Pierre and Jacqueline began +to dance. First there were smiles of derision and envy around them, +but after a moment a little hush came where they moved, and then men +began to note the smile of the girl and the whiteness of that round +throat, and the grace of the bare, tapering arms. + +So a whisper went around the room, and there began a craning of necks +and an exchange of nods. All that crowd became in a moment no more +than the chorus which fills the background of the stage when the +principals step out from the wings. + +They could not help but dance well, for they had youth and grace and +strength, and the glances of applause and envy were like wine to +quicken their blood, while above all they caught the overtone of the +singing violins, and danced by that alone. The music ended with a long +flourish just as they whirled to a stop in a corner of the room. At +once an eddy of men started toward them. + +"Who shall it be?" smiled Pierre. "With whom do you want to dance? +It's your triumph, Jack." + +She was alight and alive with the victory, and her eyes roved over the +crowd. + +"The big man with the tawny hair." + +"But he's making right past us." + +"No; he'll turn and come back." + +"How do you know?" + +For answer she glanced up and laughed, and he realized with a singular +sense of loneliness that she knew many things which were beyond his +ken. Some one touched his arm, and a voice, many voices, beset him: + +"How's the chances for a dance with the girl, partner?" + +"My name's McCormack. Riley? Glad to know you. I've got a flask on +the hip, Riley; what's the chance of making a trade on this next dance?" + +"How do we swap partners? Mine is the rangy girl with the red topknot. +Not much on looks, Bill, but a cayuse don't cover ground on his looks. +Dance? Say, Bill, she'll rock you to sleep!" + +"This dance is already booked," Pierre answered, and kept his eyes on +the tall man with the scarred face and the resolute jaw. He wondered +profoundly why Jacqueline had chosen such a partner. + +At least she had prophesied correctly, for the big man turned toward +them just as he seemed about to head for another part of the hall. The +crowd gave way before him, not that he shouldered them aside, but they +seemed to feel the coming of his shadow before him, and separated as +they would have done before the shadow of a falling tree. + +In another moment Pierre found himself looking up to the giant. No +mask could disguise him, neither cover that long, twisting mark of +white down his cheek, nor hide the square set of the jaw, nor dim the +keen steady eyes. Upon him there was written at large: "This is a man." + +And there came to Pierre an exceedingly great uneasiness in his right +hand, and a twitching of the fingers low down on his thigh where the +familiar holster should have hung. His left hand rose, following the +old instinct, and touched beneath his throat where the cold cross lay. + +He was saying easily: "This is your dance, isn't it?" + +"Right, Bud," answered the big man in a mellow voice as great as his +size. "Sorry I can't swap partners with you, but I hunt alone." + +An overwhelming desire to get a distance between himself and this huge +unknown came to Pierre. + +He said: "There goes the music. You're off." + +And the other, moving toward Jack, leaned down a little and murmured at +the ear of the outlaw: "Thanks, Pierre." + +Then he was gone, and Jacqueline was laughing over his shoulder back to +Pierre. + +Through his daze and through the rising clamor of the music, a voice +said beside him: "You look sort of sick, dude. Who's your friend?" + +"Don't you know him?" asked Pierre. + +"No more than I do you; but I've ridden the range for ten years around +here, and I know that he's new to these parts. If I'd ever glimpsed +him before, I'd remember him. He'd be a bad man in a mix, eh?" + +And Pierre answered with devout earnestness: "He would." + +"But where 'd you buy those duds, pal? Hey, look! Here's what I've +been waiting for--the Barneses and the girl that's visitin' 'em from +the East." + +"What girl?" + +"Look!" + +The Barnes group was passing through the door, and last came the +unmistakable form of Dick Wilbur, masked, but not masked enough to hide +his familiar smile or cover the well-known sound of his laughter as it +drifted to Pierre across the hall, and on his arm was a girl in an +evening dress of blue, with a small, black mask across her eyes, and +deep-golden hair. + +Pausing before she swung into the dance with Wilbur, she made a gesture +with the white arm, and looked up laughing to big, handsome Dick. +Pierre trembled, and his heart beat once and stopped. + +As he watched, the song which Dick had sung came like a monotonous, +religious chant within him: + + They call me poor, yet I am rich + In the touch of her golden hair; + My heart is filled like a miser's hands + With the red-gold of her hair. + + The only sky I ride beneath + Is the dear blue of her eyes, + The only heaven I desire + Is the blue of her dear eyes. + + +But even the memory of the song died in him while he watched her dance, +and saw the lights and shadows flit across the smooth shoulders; and +when he saw the hands of Wilbur about her, a red rage came up in him. + +Dick in passing, marked that stare above the heads of the crowd, and +frowned with trouble. The hungry eyes of Pierre followed them as they +circled the hall again; and this time Wilbur, perhaps fearing that +something had gone wrong with Pierre, steered close to the edge of the +dancing crowd and looked inquisitively across. + +He leaned and spoke to the girl, and she turned her head, smiling, to +Pierre. Then the smile went out, and even despite the mask, he saw +that her eyes had widened. The heart of Pierre grew thunderous with +music. She had stopped and slipped from the arm of Wilbur, and came +step by step slowly toward him like one walking in her sleep. + +There, by the edge of the dancers, with the noise of the music and the +laughter and the shuffling feet to cover them, they met. The hands she +held to him were cold and trembling. He only knew that they were +marvelously soft, and that they faltered and closed strongly about his +own. + +"Is it you?" + +"It is I." + +That was all; and then the shadow of Wilbur loomed above them. + +"What's this? Do you know each other? It isn't possible! Pierre, are +you playing a game with me?" + +But under the glance of Pierre he fell back a step, and reached for the +gun which was not there. They were alone once more. + +"Mary--Mary Brown!" + +"Pierre!" + +"But you are dead!" + +"No, no! But you--Pierre----" + +"It was a miracle--the cross--that saved me." + +"Where can we go?" + +"Outside." + +"Pierre." + +"Yes." + +"Hold my arm close--so I'll know it isn't just dreaming. And go +quickly!" + +"They are staring at us--the fools--as if they were trying to +understand." + +"We'll be followed?" + +"Never." + +"Do you need a wrap?" + +"No." + +"But it is cold outside, and your shoulders are bare." + +"Then take that cloak. But quickly, Pierre, before we're followed." + +He drew it about her; he led her through the door; it clicked shut; +they were alone with the sweet, frosty air about them. She tore away +the mask, and her beauty struck him like the moon when it drops +suddenly through a mist of clouds. + +"And yours, Pierre?" + +"Not here." + +"Why?" + +"Because there are people. Hurry. Now here, with just the trees +around us----" + +And he tore off the mask. + +The white, cold moon shone over them, slipping down between the dark +tops of the trees, and the wind stirred slowly through the branches +with a faint, hushing sound, as if once more a warning were coming to +Pierre this night. He looked up, his left hand at the cross. + +"Look down. You are afraid of something, Pierre. What is it?" + +"With your arms around my neck, there's nothing in the world I fear. +Mary, I loved you all this time." + +"Pierre--and I----" + +"But you have grown so tall--so strange--I can hardly feel----" + +"And you--so stern and old." + +"I never dreamed I could love anything more than the little girl who +lay in the snow, and died there that night." + +"And I never dreamed I could smile at any man except the boy who lay by +me that night. And he died." + +"What miracle saved you?" + +She said: "It was wonderful, and yet very simple. You remember how the +tree crushed me down into the snow? Well, when the landslide moved, it +carried the tree before it; the weight of the trunk was lifted from me. +Perhaps it was a rock that struck me over the head then, for I lost +consciousness. The slide didn't bury me, but the rush carried me +before it like a stick before a wave, you see. + +"When I woke I was almost completely covered with a blanket of debris, +but I could move my arms, and managed to prop myself up in a sitting +posture. It was there that my father and his searching party found me; +he had been combing that district all night. They carried me back, +terribly bruised, but without even a bone broken. It was a miracle +that I escaped, and the miracle must have been worked by your cross; do +you remember?" + +He shuddered and threw a hand up before his eyes. + +"Dearest----" + +"It's nothing--but the cross--for every good fortune it has brought me, +it has brought bad luck to others." + +"Hush, Pierre. Put your arms around me. I am all yours--all. You +must not think of the trouble or the cross." + +He obeyed and drew her close to him, and the warm slender body gave to +him and lay close against his; and her head went back, and the curve of +her soft lips was close to his. He kissed her, reverently, and then, +with passion, the lips, the eyes, the throat, that quivered as if she +were singing. + +"Pierre, I have said good night to you every time before I went to +sleep all these years." + +"And I've looked for you in the face of every woman." + +"And I used to think that a still, small voice answered me out of the +night." + +"Oh, my dear, there was a voice; for I've loved you so hard that it +must have been like a hand at your shoulder tapping, and asking you to +remember me. Mary, you are crying." + +"I'm so happy; I can't help it. It's as if--as if--Pierre----" + +"Dear, my dear." + +"Hold me closer. I want to feel your strength around me, so that I +know I can never lose you again." + +"Never." + +"Tell me again that you love me." + +"I love you." + +"I love you, Pierre." + +Then the wind spoke for them, using the trees for a harp above them. +She looked up to him, and saw the nodding branches above his head, and +higher still, the cold and changeless radiance of the stars. He bent +back her head and stared so grimly down into her eyes that her smile +ceased tremulously. + +"Mary, what is the perfume?" + +"None, except the scent of the pines and the sweet, cold air of the +night, Pierre." + +"There is something more. It's as if the wind had taken all the +fragrance from a thousand miles of wild flowers, and brought them +blended and faint and sweeter than anything else in the world. It is +you, Mary, you are so beautiful. How many men have told you that you +are beautiful?" + +"None have told me; at least I've listened to them with only half my +heart." + +"What have they told you?" + +"Nothing, except words about eyes and lips, and things like that." + +"And your hair?" + +"Oh, yes, they never forget that." + +"Then there is nothing left for me to say, except that God made you so +that I could love you with all my heart. And while I hold you here and +hunt for things to say, my mind goes rushing out to great things--the +sea, the mountains, the wind, the cold, quiet, beautiful stars. But +you are unhappy to hear me. Look! The big tears come one by one in +your eyes, and roll down your face." + +"I'm so happy, Pierre, that I cannot help but be sad a little." + +"But never after this. We will always be happy." + +"Always and always." + +"Mary, I have ridden all day over a burning hot desert and come under +the mountains at night and looked up, and I've seen the white, pure +snow with the blue of the sky behind it. You are like that to me. But +you will be cold out here; I musn't go on saying nothings like this." + +"I love it, Pierre. I won't have you stop." + +"Sit here on this stump--now, I'll sit at your feet." + +"No, beside me, please, Pierre." + +"I will not move. Give me your hands. Now, when I look up your face +is framed by a tree-top that goes nodding from one side to the other, +and I look up at your eyes and past them at the stars until I know that +our love is like them, and free as the wind. Mary, my dearest, your +cold hand that I kiss is more to me than oceans of silver, or mountains +of gold." + +"Now, if we could both die, this would never end. But it will never +end in spite of to-morrow, will it? You will go back home with me." + +"Go home with you?" + +"Take my hand again. Pierre, what has happened? What have I done? +What have I said?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE FEAR OF THE LIVING + +But he only stared gravely up to her with such a sorrow that her heart +went cold. + +"Nothing--but I've remembered." + +"What?" + +"It's the cross. It brings luck and bad fortune together. Mary, I'll +throw it away, now--and then--no, it makes no difference. We are done +for." + +"Pierre!" + +"Don't you see, Mary, or are you still blind as I was ever since I saw +you tonight? It's all in that name--Pierre." + +"There nothing in it, Pierre, that I don't love." + +He rose, and she with him. His head was bowed as if with the weight of +the doom which he foresaw. + +"You have heard of the wild men of the mountains, and the long-riders?" + +He knew that she nodded, though she could not speak. + +"I am Red Pierre." + +"_You_!" + +"Yes." + +Yet he had the courage to raise his head and watch her shrink with +horror. It was only an instant. Then she was beside him again, and +one arm around him, while she turned her head and glanced fearfully +back at the lighted schoolhouse. The faint music mocked them. + +"And you dared to come to the dance? We must go. Look, there are +horses! We'll ride off into the mountains, and they'll never find +us--we'll----" + +"Hush! One day's riding would kill you--riding as I ride." + +"I'm strong---very strong, and the love of you, Pierre, will give me +more strength. But quickly, for if they knew you, every man in that +place would come armed and ready to kill. I know, for I've heard them +talk. Tell me, are one-half of all the terrible things they say----" + +"They are true, I guess." + +"I won't think of them. Whatever you've done, it was not you, but some +devil that forced you on. Pierre, I love you more than ever. Will you +go East with me, and home? We will lose ourselves in New York. The +millions of the crowd will hide us." + +"Mary, there are some men from whom even the night can't hide me. If +they were blind their hate would give them eyes to find me." + +"Pierre, you are not turning away from me--Pierre!" + +"God help me." + +"He will. There's some ghost of a chance for us. Will you take that +chance and come with me?" + +He thought of many things, but what he answered was: "I will." + +"Then let's go at once. The railroad----" + +"Not that way. No one in that house suspects me now. We'll go back +and put on our masks again, and--hush, what's there?" + +"Nothing." + +"There is--a man's step." + +And she, seeing the look on his face, covered her eyes in nameless +horror. When she looked up a great form was looming through the dark, +and then the voice of Wilbur came, hard and cold. + +"I've looked everywhere for you. Miss Brown, they are anxious about +you in the schoolhouse. Will you go back?" + +"No--I----" + +But Pierre commanded: "Go back." + +So she turned, and he ordered again: "I think our friend has something +to say to me. You can find your way easily. To-morrow----" + +"To-morrow, Pierre?" + +"Yes." + +"I shall be waiting." + +With what a voice she said it! And then she was gone. + +He turned quietly to big Dick Wilbur, on whose contorted face the +moonlight fell. + +"Say it, Dick, and have it out in cursing me, if that 'll help." + +The big man stood with his hands gripped hard behind him, fighting for +self-control. + +"Pierre, I've cared for you more than I've cared for any other man. +I've thought of you like a kid brother. Now tell me that you haven't +done this thing, and I'll believe you rather than my senses. Tell me +you haven't come like a thief in the night and stolen the girl I love +away from me; tell me----" + +"If you keep on like that, you'll end by jumping at my throat. Hold +yourself, Dick." + +"I will if you'll tell me that you haven't----" + +"I love her, Dick." + +"Damn you! And she?" + +"She'll forget me; God knows I hope she'll forget me." + +"I brought two guns with me. Here they are." + +He held out the weapons. + +"Take your choice." + +"Does it have to be this way?" + +"If you'd rather have me shoot you down in cold blood?" + +"I suppose this is as good a way as any." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Nothing. Give me a gun." + +"Here. This is ten paces. Are you ready?" + +"Yes." + +"Pierre. God forgive you for what you've done. She liked me, I know. +If it weren't for you, I would have won her and a chance for real life +again--but now--damn you!" + +"I'll count to ten, slowly and evenly. When I reach ten we fire?" + +"Yes." + +"I'll trust you not to beat the count, Dick." + +"And I you. Start." + +He counted quietly, evenly: "One, two, three, four, five six, seven, +eight, nine--ten." + +The gun jerked up in the hand of Wilbur, but he stayed the movement +with his finger pressing still upon the trigger. The hand of Pierre +had not moved. + +He cried: "By God, Pierre, what do you mean?" + +There was no answer. He strode across the intervening space dropped +his gun, and caught the other by the shoulders. Out of the nerveless +fingers of Pierre the revolver slipped and crushed a dead twig on the +ground, and a pair of lifeless eyes stared up to Dick Wilbur. + +"In the name of God, Pierre, what has happened to you?" + +"Dick, why didn't you fire?" + +"Fire? Murder you?" + +"You shoot straight--I know--it would have been over quickly." + +"What is it, boy? You look dead--there's no color in your face, no +light in your eyes, even your voice is dead. I know it isn't fear. +What is it?" + +"You're wrong. It's fear." + +"Fear and Red Pierre. The two don't mate." + +"Fear of living, Dick." + +"So that's it? God help you. Pierre, forgive me. I should have known +that you had met her before, but I was mad, and didn't know what I was +doing, couldn't think." + +"It's over and forgotten. I have to go back and get Jack. Will you +ride home with us?" + +"Jack? She's not in the hall. She left shortly after you went, and +she means some deviltry. There's a jealous fiend in that girl. I +watched her eyes when they followed you and Mary from the hall." + +"Then we'll ride back alone." + +"Not I. Carry the word to Jim that I'm through with the game. I'm +going to wash some of the grime off my conscience and try to make +myself fit to speak to this girl again." + +"It's the cross," said Pierre. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Nothing. The bad luck has come to poor old Jim at last, because he +saved me out of the snow. Patterson has gone, and now you, and perhaps +Jack--well, this is good-by, Dick?" + +"Yes." + +Their hands met, a long, strong grip. + +"You forgive me, Dick?" + +"With all my heart, old fellow." + +"I'll try to wish you luck. Stay close to her. Live clean for her +sake and worship her like a saint. Perhaps you'll win her." + +"I'll do what one man can." + +"But if you succeed, ride out of the mountain-desert with her--never +let me hear of it." + +"I don't understand. Will you tell me what's between you, Pierre? +You've some sort of claim on her. What is it?" + +"I've said good-by. Only one thing more. Never mention my name to +her." + +So he turned and walked out into the moonlight in the immaculate +dress-suit and big Wilbur stared after him until he disappeared beyond +the shoulder of a hill. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE LUCK OF THE SHIPWRECKED + +It was early morning before Pierre reached the refuge of Boone's gang, +but there was still a light through the window of the large room, and +he entered to find Boone, Mansie, and Gandil grouped about the fire, +all ominously silent, all ominously wakeful. They looked up to him and +big Jim nodded his gray head. Otherwise there was no greeting. + +From a shadowy corner Jacqueline rose and went toward the door. He +crossed quickly and barred the way. + +"What is it, Jack?" + +"Get out of the way." + +"Not till you tell me what's wrong." + +A veritable devil of fury came blazing in her eyes, and her hand +twitched nervously back to her hip where the dark holster hung. She +said in a voice that shook with anger: "Don't try your bluff on me. I +ain't no shorthorn, Pierre le Rouge." + +He stepped aside, frowning. + +"To-morrow I'll argue the point with you, Jack." + +She turned at the door and snapped back: "You? You ain't fast enough +on the draw to argue with me!" + +And she was gone. He turned to face the mocking smile of Black Gandil +and a rapid volley of questions. + +"Where's Patterson?" + +"No more idea than you have." + +"And Branch?" + +"What's become of Branch? Hasn't he returned?" + +"No. And Dick Wilbur?" + +"Boys, he's done with this life and I'm glad of it. He's starting on a +new track." + +"After a woman?" sneered Bud Mansie. + +"Shut up, Bud," broke in Boone, and then slowly to Pierre: "Patterson +is gone for two days now. You ought to know what that means. Branch +ought to have returned from looking for him, and Branch is still out. +Wilbur is gone. Out of seven we're only four left. Who's next?" + +He stared gloomily from face to face, and Gandil snarled: "A fellow who +saves a shipwrecked man--" + +"Damn you, keep still, Gandil." + +"Don't damn me, Pierre le Rouge, but damn the luck you've brought to +Jim Boone." + +"Jim, do you chalk all this up against me?" + +"I, lad? No, no! But it's queer. Patterson's done for; there's no +doubt of that. Good-natured Garry Patterson. God, boy, how we'll miss +him! And Branch seems to have gone the same way. If neither of them +show up before morning we can cross 'em off the list. Now Wilbur has +gone and Jack has ridden home looking like a small-sized thunder storm, +and now you come with a white face and a blank eye. What hell is +trailin' us, Pierre, what hell is in store for us. You've seen +something, and we want to know what it is." + +"A ghost, Jim, that's all. Just a ghost." + +Bud Mansie said softly: "There's only one ghost that could make you +look like this. Was it McGurk, Pierre?" + +Boone commanded: "No more of that, Bud. Boy's we're going to turn in, +and to-morrow we'll climb the hills looking for the two we've lost. +But there's something or some one after us. Lads, I'm thinking our +good days are over. The seven of us have been too many for a small +posse and too fast for a big one, but the seven are down to four. The +good days are over." + +And the three answered in a solemn chorus: "The good days are over." + +All eyes fixed on Pierre, and his glance was settled on the floor. + +The morning brought them no better cheer, for Jack, whose singing +generally wakened them, was not to be coaxed into speech, and when +Pierre entered the room she rose and left the breakfast-table. The sad +eyes of Jim Boone followed her and then turned to Pierre. No +explanation was forthcoming, and he asked for none. The old fatalist +had accepted the worst, and now he waited for doom to descend. + +They took their horses after breakfast and rode out to search the +hills, for it was quite possible that an accident had crippled at least +one of the two lost men, either Patterson or Branch. Not a gully +within miles was left unsearched, but toward evening they rode back, +one by one, with no tidings. + +One by one they rode up, and whistled to announce their coming, and +then rode on to the stable to unsaddle their horses. About the supper +table all gathered with the exception of Bud Mansie. So they waited +the meal and each from time to time stole a glance at the fifth plate +where Bud should sit. + +It was Jack who finally stirred herself from her dumb gloom to take up +that fifth and carry it out of the room. It was as if she had +announced the death of Mansie. + +After that, they ate what they could and then went back around the +fire. The evening waned, but it brought no sign of any of the missing +three. The wood burned low in the fire. The first to break the long +silence was Jim Boone, with "Who brings in the wood?" + +And Black Gandil answered: "We'll match, eh?" + +In an outburst of energy the day before he disappeared Garry Patterson +had chopped up some wood and left a pile of it at the corner of the +house. It was a very little thing to bring in an armful of that wood, +but long-riders do not love work, and now they started the matching +seriously. The odd man was out, and Pierre went out on the first toss +of the coins. + +"You see," said Gandil. "Bad luck to every one but himself." + +At the next throw Jacqueline was the lucky one, and her father +afterward. Gandil rose and stretched himself leisurely, yet as he +sauntered toward the door his backward glance at Pierre was black +indeed. He glanced curiously toward Jack--who looked away sharply--and +then turned his eyes to her father. + +The latter was considering him with a gloomy, foreboding stare and +considering over and over again, as Pierre le Rouge well knew, the +prophecy of Black Morgan Gandil. + +He fell in turn into a solemn brooding, and many a picture out of the +past came up beside him and stood near till he could almost feel its +presence. He was roused by the creaking of the floor beneath the +ponderous step of Jim Boone, who flung the door open and shouted: "Oh, +Morgan." + +In the silence he turned and stared back at Pierre. + +"What's up with Gandil?" + +"God knows, not I." + +Pierre rose and ran from the room and around the side of the building. +There by the woodpile lay the prostrate body. It was a mere limp +weight when he turned and raised it in his arms. So he walked back +into the house carrying all that was left of Black Morgan Gandil, and +placed his burden on a bunk at the side of the room. + +There had been no outcry from either Jim Boone or his daughter, but +they came quickly to him, and Jacqueline pressed her ear over the heart +of the hurt man. + +She said; "He's still alive, but nearly gone. Where's the wound?" + +They found it when they drew off his coat--a small cut high on the +right breast, and another lower and more to the left. Either of them +would been fatal, and about each the flesh was discolored where the +hilt of the knife or the fist of the striker had driven home the blade. + +They stood back and made no hopeless effort to save him. It was +uncanny that Black Morgan Gandil, after all of his battles, should die +without a struggle in this way. And it had been no cowardly attack +from the rear. Both wounds were in the front. A hope came to them +when his color increased at one time, but it was for only a moment; it +went out again as if some one were erasing paint from his cheeks. + +But just as they were about to turn away his body stirred with a slight +convulsion, the eyes opened wide, and he strove to speak. A red froth +came on his lips. He made another desperate effort, and twisting +himself onto one elbow pointed a rigid arm at Pierre. He gasped: +"McGurk--God!" and dropped. He was dead before his head touched the +blanket. + +It was Jacqueline who closed the staring eyes, for the two men were +frozen where they stood. They had heard the story of Patterson and +Branch and Mansie in one word from the lips of the dying man. + +McGurk was back. McGurk was prowling about the last of the gang of +Boone, and the lone wolf had pulled down four of the band one by one on +successive days. Only two remained, and these two looked at one +another with a common thought. + +"The lights!" cried Jacqueline, turning from the body of Gandil. "He +can shoot us down through the windows at his leisure." + +"But he won't," said her father. "I've lived too long with the name of +McGurk in my ears not to know the man. He'll never kill by stealth, +but openly and man to man. I know him, damn him. He'll wait till he +meets us alone, and then we'll finish as poor Gandil, there, or +Patterson and Branch and Bud Mansie, all of them fallen somewhere in +the mountains with the buzzards left to bury 'em. That's how we'll +finish with McGurk on our trail. And you--Gandil was right--it's you +that's brought him on us. A shipwrecked man--by God, Gandil was right!" + +His right hand froze on the butt of his gun and his face convulsed with +impotent rage, for he knew, as both the others knew, that long before +that gun was clear of the holster the bullet from Pierre's gun would be +on its way. But Pierre threw his arms wide, and standing so, his +shadow made a black cross on the wall behind him. He even smiled to +tempt the big man further. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +JACQUELINE WAITS + +Jacqueline ran between and caught the hand of her father, crying: + +"Are you going to finish the work of McGurk before he has a chance to +start it? He hunted the rest down one by one. Dad, if you put out +Pierre what is left? Can you face that devil alone?" + +And the old man groaned: "But it's his luck that's ruined me. It's his +damned luck which has broken up the finest fellowship that ever mocked +at law on the ranges. Oh, Jack, the heart in me's broken. I wish to +God that I lay where Gandil lies. What's the use of fighting any +longer? No man can stand up against McGurk!" + +And the cold which had come in the blood of Pierre agreed with him. He +was a slayer of men, but McGurk was a devil incarnate. His father had +died at the hand of this lone rider; it was fitting, it was fate that +he himself should die in the same way. The girl looked from face to +face, and sensed their despondency. It seemed that their fear gave her +the greater courage. Her face flushed as she stood glaring her scorn. + +"The yellow streak took a long time in showin', but it's in you, all +right, Pierre le Rouge." + +"You've hated me ever since the dance, Jack. Why?" + +"Because I knew you were yellow--like this!" + +He shrugged his shoulders like one who gives up the fight against a +woman, and seeing it, she changed suddenly and made a gesture with both +hands toward him, a sudden gesture filled with grace and a queer +tenderness. + +She said: "Pierre, have you forgotten that when you were only a boy you +stood up to McGurk and drew blood from him? Are you afraid of him now?" + +"I'll take my chance with any man--but McGurk--" + +"He has no cross to bring him luck." + +"Aye, and he has no friends for that luck to ruin. Look at Gandil, +Jack, and then speak to me of the cross." + +"Pierre, that first time you met you almost beat him to the draw. Oh, +if I were a man, I'd--Pierre, it was to get McGurk that you rode out to +the range. You've been here six years, and McGurk is still alive, and +now you're ready to run from his shadow." + +"Run?" he said hotly. "I swear to God that as I stand here I've no +fear of death and no hope for the life ahead." + +She sneered: "You're white while you say it. Your will may be brave, +but your blood's a coward, Pierre. It deserts you." + +"Jack, you devil--" + +"Aye, you can threaten me safely. But if McGurk were here--" + +"Let him come." + +"Pierre!" + +"I mean it." + +"Then give me one promise." + +"A thousand of 'em." + +"Let me hunt him with you." + +He stared at her with a mute wonder. She had never been so beautiful. + +"Jack, what a heart you have! If you were a man we could rule the +mountains, you and I." + +"Even as I am, what prevents us, Pierre?" + +And looking at her he forgot the sorrow which had been his ever since +he looked up to the face framed with red-gold hair and the dark tree +behind and the cold stars steady above it. It would come to him again, +but now it was gone, and he murmured, smiling: "I wonder?" + +They made their plans that night, sitting all three together. It was +better to go out and hunt the hunter than to wait there and be tracked +down. Jack, for she insisted on it, would ride out with Pierre the +next morning and hunt through the hills for the hiding-place of McGurk. + +Some covert he must have, so as to be near his victims. Nothing else +could explain the ease with which he kept on their track. They would +take the trail, and Jim Boone, no longer agile enough to be effective +on the trail, would guard the house and the body of Gandil in it. + +There was little danger that even McGurk would try to rush a hostile +house, but they took no chances. The guns of Jim Boone were given a +thorough overhauling, and he wore as usual at his belt the +heavy-handled hunting knife, a deadly weapon in a hand-to-hand fight. +Thus equipped, they left him and took the trail. + +They had not ridden a hundred yards when a whistle followed them, the +familiar whistle of the gang. They reined short and saw big Dick +Wilbur riding his bay after them, but at some distance he halted and +shouted: "Pierre!" + +"He's come back to us!" cried Jack. + +"No. It's only some message." + +"Do you know?" + +"Yes. Stay here. This is for me alone." + +And he rode back to Wilbur, who swung his horse close alongside. +However hard he had followed in the pursuit of happiness and the golden +hair of Mary Brown, his face was drawn with lines of age and his eyes +circled with shadows. + +He said: "I've kept close on her trail, Pierre, and the nearest she has +come to kindness has been to send me back with a message to you." + +He laughed without mirth, and the sound stopped abruptly. + +"This is the message in her own words: 'I love him, Dick, and there's +nothing in the world for me without him. Bring him back to me. I +don't care how; but bring him back.' So tell Jack to ride the trail +alone to-day and go back with me. I give her up, not freely, but +because I know there's no hope for me." + +But Pierre answered: "Wherever I've gone there's been luck for me and +hell for every one around me. I lived with a priest, Dick, and left +him when I was nearly old enough to begin repaying his care. I came +South and found a father and lost him the same day. I gambled for +money with which to bury him, and a man died that night and another was +hurt. I escaped from the town by riding a horse to death. I was +nearly killed in a landslide, and now the men who saved me from that +are done for. + +"It's all one story, the same over and over. Can I carry a fortune +like that back to her? Dick, it would haunt me by day and by night. +She would be the next. I know it as I know that I'm sitting in the +saddle here. That's my answer. Carry it back to her." + +"I won't lie and tell you I'm sorry, because I'm a fool and still have +a ghost of a hope, but this will be hard news to tell her, and I'd +rather give five years of life than face the look that will come in her +eyes." + +"I know it, Dick." + +"But this is final?" + +"It is." + +"Then good-bye again, and--God bless you, Pierre." + +"And you, old fellow." + +They swerved their horses in opposite directions and galloped apart. + +"It was nothing," said Pierre to Jack, when he came up with her and +drew his horse down to a trot. But he knew that she had read his mind, +and for an hour they could not look each other in the face. + +But all day through the mazes of cańon and hill and rolling ground they +searched patiently. There was no cranny in the rocks too small for +them to reconnoiter with caution. There was no group of trees they did +not examine. + +Yet it was not strange that they failed. In the space of every square +mile there were a hundred hiding-places which might have served McGurk. +It would have taken a month to comb the country. They had only a day, +and left the result to chance, but chance failed them. When the +shadows commenced to swing across the gullies they turned back and rode +with downward heads, silent. + +One hill lay between them and the old ranch-house which had been the +headquarters for their gang so many days, when they saw a faint drift +of smoke across the sky--not a thin column of smoke such as rises from +a chimney, but a broad stream of pale mist, as if a dozen chimneys were +spouting wood-smoke at once. + +They exchanged glances and spurred their horses up the last slope. As +always in a short spurt, the long-legged black of Jacqueline +out-distanced the cream-colored mare, and it was she who first topped +the rise of land. The girl whirled in her saddle with raised arm, +screamed back at Pierre, and rode on at a still more furious pace. + +What he saw when he reached a corresponding position was the +ranch-house wreathed in smoke, and through all the lower windows was +the red dance of flames. Before him fled Jacqueline with all the speed +of the black. He loosened the reins, spoke to the mare, and she +responded with a mighty rush. Even that tearing pace could not quite +take him up to the girl, but he flung himself from the saddle and was +at her side when she ran across the smoking veranda and wrenched at the +front door. + +The whole frame gave back at her, and as Pierre snatched her to one +side the doorway fell crashing on the porch, while a mighty volume of +smoke burst out at them like a puff from the pit. + +They stood sputtering, coughing, and choking, and when they could look +again they saw a solid wall of red flame, thick, impenetrable, +shuddering with the breath of the wind. + +While they stared a stronger breath of that wind tore the wall of +flames apart, driving it back in a raging tide to either side. The +fire had circled the walls of the entire room, but it had scarcely +encroached on the center, and there, seated at the table, was Boone. + +He had scarcely changed from the position in which they last saw him, +save that he was fallen somewhat deeper in the chair, his head resting +against the top of the back. He greeted them, through that infernal +furnace, with laughter, and wide, steady eyes. At least it seemed +laughter, for the mouth was agape and the lips grinned back, but there +was no sound from the lips and no light in the fixed eyes. + +Laughter indeed it was, but it was the laughter of death, as if the +soul of the man, in dying, recognized its natural wild element and had +burst into convulsive mirth. So he sat there, untouched as yet by the +wide river of fire, chuckling at his destiny. The wall of fire closed +across the doorway again and the work of red ruin went on with a +crashing of timbers from the upper part of the building. + +As that living wall shut solidly, Jacqueline leaped forward, shouting, +like a man, words of hope and rescue; Pierre caught her barely in +time--a precarious grasp on the wrist from which she nearly wrenched +herself free and gained the entrance to the fire. But the jerk threw +her off balance for the least fraction of an instant, and the next +moment she was safe in his arms. + +Safe? He might as well have held a wildcat, or captured with his bare +hands a wild eagle, strong of talon and beak. She tore and raged in a +wild fury. + +"Pierre, coward, devil!" + +"Steady, Jack!" + +"Are you going to let him die?" + +"Don't you see? He's already dead." + +"You lie. You only fear the fire!" + +"I tell you, McGurk has been here before us." + +Her arm was freed by a twisting effort and she beat him furiously +across the face. One blow cut his lip and a steady trickle of hot +blood left a taste of salt in his mouth. + +"You young fiend!" he cried, and grasped both her wrists with a +crushing force. + +She leaned and gnashed at his hands, but he whirled her about and held +her from behind, impotent, raging still. + +"A hundred McGurks could never have killed him!" + +There was a sharp explosion from the midst of the fire. + +"See! He's fighting against his death!" + +"No! No! It's only the falling of a timber!" + +Yet with a panic at his heart he knew that it was the sharp crack of a +firearm. + +"Liar again! Pierre, for God's sake, do something for him. Father! +He's fighting for his life!" + +Another and another explosion from the midst of the fire. He +understood then. + +"The flames have reached his guns. That's all, Jack. Don't you see? +We'd be throwing ourselves away to run into those flames." + +Realization came to her at last. A heavy weight slumped down suddenly +over his arms. He held her easily, lightly. Her head had tilted back, +and the red flare of the fire beat across her face and throat. The +roar of the flames shut out all other thought of the world and cast a +wide inferno of light around them. + +Higher and higher rose the fires, and the wind cut off great fragments +and hurried them off into the night, blowing them, it seemed, straight +up against the piled thunder of the clouds. Then the roof sagged, +swayed, and fell crashing, while a vast cloud of sparks and livid fires +shot up a hundred feet into the air. It was as if the soul of old +Boone had departed in that final flare. + +It started the girl into sudden life, surprising Pierre, so that she +managed to wrench herself free and ran from him. He sprang after her +with a shout, fearing that in her hysteria she might fling herself into +the fire, but that was not her purpose. Straight to the black horse +she ran, swung into the saddle with the ease of a man, and rode +furiously off through the falling of the night. + +He watched her with a curious closing of loneliness like a hand about +his heart. He had failed, and because of that failure even Jacqueline +was leaving him. It was strange, for since the loss of the girl of the +yellow hair and those deep blue eyes, he had never dreamed that another +thing in life could pain him. + +So at length he mounted the mare again and rode slowly down the hill +and out toward the distant ranges, trotting mile after mile with +downward head, not caring even if McGurk should cross him, for surely +this was the final end of the world to Pierre le Rouge. + +About midnight he halted at last, for the uneasy sway of the mare +showed that she was nearly dead on her feet with weariness. He found a +convenient place for a camp, built his fire, and wrapped his blanket +about him without thinking of food. + +He never knew how long he sat there, for his thoughts circled the world +and back again and found all a prospect of desert before him and +behind, until a sound, a vague sound out of the night startled him into +alertness. He slipped from beside the fire and into the shadow of a +steep rock, watching with eyes that almost pierced the dark on all +sides. + +And there he saw her creeping up on the outskirts of the firelight, +prone on her hands and knees, dragging herself up like a young wildcat +hunting prey; it was the glimmer of her eyes that he caught first +through the gloom. A cold thought came to him that she had returned +with her gun ready. + +Inch by inch she came closer, and now he was aware of her restless +glances probing on all sides of the camp-fire. Silence--only the +crackling of a pitchy stick. And then he heard a muffled sound, soft, +soft as the beating of a heart in the night, and regularly pulsing. It +hurt him infinitely, and he called gently: "Jack, why are you weeping?" + +She started up with her fingers twisted at the butt of her gun. + +"It's a lie," called a tremulous voice. "Why should I weep?" + +And then she ran to him. + +"Oh, Pierre, I thought you were gone!" + +That silence which came between them was thick with understanding +greater than speech. He said at last: + +"I've made my plan. I am going straight for the higher mountains and +try to shake McGurk off my trail. There's one chance in ten I may +succeed, and if I do then I'll wait for my chance and come down on him, +for sooner or later we have to fight this out to the end." + +"I know a place he could never find," said Jacqueline. "The old cabin +in the gulley between the Twin Bears. We'll start for it to-night." + +"Not we," he answered. "Jack, here's the end of our riding together." + +She frowned with puzzled wonder. + +He explained: "One man is stronger than a dozen. That's the strength +of McGurk--that he rides alone. He's finished your father's men. +There's only Wilbur left, and Wilbur will go next--then me!" + +She stretched her hands to him. She seemed to be pleading for her very +life. + +"But if he finds us and has to fight us both--I shoot as straight as a +man, Pierre!" + +"Straighter than most. And you're a better pal than any I've ever +ridden with. But I must go alone. It's only a lone wolf that will +ever bring down McGurk. Think how he's rounded us up like a herd of +cattle and brought us down one by one." + +"By getting each man alone and killing him from behind." + +"From the front, Jack. No, he's fought square with each one. The +wounds of Black Gandil were all in front, and when McGurk and I meet +it's going to be face to face." + +Her tone changed, softened: "But what of me, Pierre?" + +"You have to leave this life. Go down to the city, Jack. Live like a +woman; marry some lucky fellow; be happy." + +"Can you leave me so easily?" + +"No, it's hard, devilish hard to part with a pal like you, Jack; but +all the rest of my life I've got hard things to face, partner." + +"Partner!" she repeated with an indescribable emphasis. "Pierre, I +can't leave you." + +"Why?" + +"I'm afraid to go. Let me stay!" + +He said gloomily: "No good will come of it." + +"I'll never trouble you--never!" + +"No, the bad luck comes on the people who are with me, but never on me. +It's struck them all down, one by one; your turn is next, Jack. If I +could leave the cross behind--" + +He covered his face, and groaned: "But I don't dare; I don't dare! I +have to face McGurk. Jack, I hate myself for it, but I can't help it. +I'm afraid of McGurk, afraid of that damned white face, that lowered, +fluttering eyelid, that sneering mouth. Without the cross to bring me +luck, how could I meet him? But while I keep the cross there's ruin +and hell without end for every one with me." + +She was white and shaking. She said: "I'm not afraid. I've one friend +left; there's nothing else to care for." + +"So it's to be this way, Jack?" + +"This way, and no other." + +"Partner, I'm glad. My God, Jack, what a man you would have made!" + +Their hands met and clung together, and her head had drooped, perhaps +in acquiescence. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +A GAME OF SUPPOSE + +Dick Wilbur, telling Mary how Pierre had cut himself adrift, did not +even pretend to sorrow, and she listened to him with her eyes fixed +steadily on his own. As a matter of fact, she had shown neither hope +nor excitement from the moment he came back to her and started to tell +his message. But if she showed neither hope nor excitement for +herself, surely she gave Dick still fewer grounds for any optimistic +foresights. + +So he finished gloomily: "And as far as I can make out, Pierre is +right. There's some rotten bad luck that follows him. It may not be +the cross--I don't suppose you believe in superstition like that, Miss +Brown?" + +She said: "It saved my life." + +"The cross?" + +"Yes." + +"Then Pierre--you mean--you met before the dance--you mean--" + +He was stammering so that he couldn't finish his thoughts, and she +broke in: "If he will not come to me, then I must go to him." + +"Follow Pierre le Rouge?" queried Wilbur. "Miss Brown, you're an +optimist. But that's because you've never seen him ride. I consider +it a good day's work to start out with him and keep within sight till +night, but as for following and overtaking him--ha, ha, ha, ha!" + +He laughed heartily at the thought. + +And she smiled a little sadly, answering: "But I have the most +boundless patience in the world. He may gallop all the way, but I will +walk, and keep on walking, and reach him in the end. I am not very +strong, but--" + +Her hands moved out as though testing their power, gripping at the air. + +"Where will you go to hunt for him?" + +"I don't know. But every evening, when I look out at the sunset hills, +with the purple along the valleys, I think that he must be out there +somewhere, going toward the highest ranges. If I were up in that +country I know that I could find him." + +"Never in a thousand years." + +"Why?" + +"Because he's on the trail--" + +"On the trail?" + +"Of McGurk." + +She started. + +"What is this man McGurk? I hear of him on all sides. If one of the +men rides a bucking horse successfully, some one is sure to say: 'Who +taught you what you know, Bud--McGurk?' And then the rest laugh. The +other day a man was pointed out to me as an expert shot. 'Not as fast +as McGurk,' it was said, 'but he shoots just as straight.' Finally I +asked some one about McGurk. The only answer I received was: 'I hope +you never find out what he is.' Tell me, what is McGurk?" + +Wilbur considered the question gravely. + +He said at last: "McGurk is--hell!" + +He expanded his statement: "Think of a man who can ride anything that +walks on four feet, who never misses with either a rifle or a revolver, +who doesn't know the meaning of fear, and then imagine that man living +by himself and fighting the rest of the world like a lone wolf. That's +McGurk. He's never had a companion; he's never trusted any man. +Perhaps that's why they say about him the same thing that they say +about me." + +"What's that?" + +"You will smile when you hear. They say that McGurk will lose out in +the end on account of some woman." + +"And they say that of you?" + +"They say right of me. I know it myself. Look at me now? What right +have I here? If I'm found I'm the meat of the first man who sights me, +but here I stay, and wait and watch for your smiles--like a love-sick +boy. By Jove, you must despise me, Mary!" + +"I don't try to understand you Westerners," she answered, "and that's +why I have never questioned you before. Tell me, why is it that you +come so stealthily to see me and run away as soon as any one else +appears?" + +He said with wonder: "Haven't you guessed?" + +"I don't dare guess." + +"But you have, and your guess was right. There's a price on my head. +By right, I should be out there on the ranges with Pierre le Rouge and +McGurk. There's the only safe place; but I saw you and I came down out +of the wilds and can't go back. I'll stay, I suppose, till I run my +head into a halter." + +She was too much moved to speak for a moment, and then: "You come to me +in spite of that? Dick, whatever you have done, I know that it's only +chance which made you go wrong, just as it made Pierre. I wish--" + +The dimness of her eyes encouraged him with a great hope. He stole +closer to her. + +He repeated: "You wish--" + +"That you could be satisfied with a mere friendship. I could give you +that, Dick, with all my heart." + +He stepped back and smiled somewhat grimly on her. + +She went on: "And this McGurk--what do you mean when you say that +Pierre is on his trail?" + +"Hunting him with a gun." + +She grew paler and trembled, but her voice remained steady. It was +always that way; at the very moment when he expected her to quail, some +inner strength bore her up and baffled him. + +"But in all those miles of mountains they may never meet?" + +"They can't stay apart any more than iron can stay away from a magnet. +Listen: half a dozen years ago McGurk had the reputation of bearing a +charmed life. He had been in a hundred fights and he was never touched +with either a knife or a bullet. Then he crossed Pierre le Rouge when +Pierre was only a youngster just come onto the range. He put two +bullets through Pierre, but the boy shot him from the floor and wounded +him for the first time. The charm of McGurk was broken. + +"For half a dozen years McGurk was gone; there was never a whisper +about him. Then he came back and went on the trail of Pierre. He has +killed the friends of Pierre one by one; Pierre himself is the next in +order--Pierre or myself. And when those two meet there will be the +greatest fight that was ever staged in the mountain-desert." + +She stood straight, staring past Wilbur with hungry eyes. + +"I knew he needed me. I have to save him, Dick. You see that? I have +to bring him down from the mountains and keep him safe from McGurk. +McGurk! somehow the sound means what 'devil' used to mean to me." + +"You've never traveled alone, and yet you'd go up there and brave +everything that comes for the sake of Pierre? What has he done to +deserve it, Mary?" + +"What have I done, Dick, to deserve the care you have for me?" + +He stared gloomily on her. + +"When do you start?" + +"To-night." + +"Your friends won't let you go." + +"I'll steal away and leave a note behind me." + +"And you'll go alone?" + +She caught at a hope. + +"Unless you'll go with me, Dick?" + +"I? Take you--to Pierre?" + +She did not speak to urge him, but in the silence her beauty pleaded +for her. + +He said: "Mary, how lovely you are. If I go I will have you for a few +days--for a week at most, all to myself." + +She shook her head. From the window behind her the sunset light flared +in her hair, flooding it with red-gold against which her skin was +marvelously delicate and white, and the eyes of the deepest blue. + +"All the time that we are gone, you will never say things like this, +Dick?" + +"I suppose not. I should be near you, but terribly far away from your +thoughts all the while. Still, you will be near. You will be very +beautiful, Mary, riding up the trail through the pines, with all the +scents of the evergreens blowing about you, and I--well, I must go back +to a second childhood and play a game of suppose--" + +"A game of what?" + +"Of supposing that you are really mine, Mary, and riding out into the +wilderness for my sake." + +She stepped a little closer, peering into his face. + +"No matter what you suppose, I'm sure you'll leave that part of it +merely a game, Dick!" + +He laughed suddenly, though the sound broke off as short and sharp as +it began. + +"Haven't I played a game all my life with the fair ladies? And have I +anything to show for it except laughter? I'll go with you, Mary, if +you'll let me." + +"Dick, you've a heart of gold! What shall I take?" + +"I'll make the pack up, and I'll be back here an hour after dark and +whistle. Like this--" + +And he gave the call of Boone's gang. + +"I understand. I'll be ready. Hurry, Dick, for we've very little +time." + +He hesitated, then: "All the time we're on the trail you must be far +from me, and at the end of it will be Pierre le Rouge--and happiness +for you. Before we start, Mary, I'd like to--" + +It seemed that she read his mind, for she slipped suddenly inside his +arms, kissed him, and was gone from the room. He stood a moment with a +hand raised to his face. + +"After all," he muttered, "that's enough to die for, and--" He threw +up his long arms in a gesture of infinite resignation. + +"The will of God be done!" said Wilbur, and laughed again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE TRAIL + +She was ready, crouched close to the window of her room, when the +signal came, but first she was not sure, because the sound was as faint +as a memory. Moreover, it might have been a freakish whistling in the +wind, which rose stronger and stronger. It had piled the +thunder-clouds high and higher, and now and again a heavy drop of rain +tapped at her window like a thrown pebble. + +So she waited, and at last heard the whistle a second time, +unmistakably clear. In a moment she was hurrying down to the stable, +climbed into the saddle, and rode at a cautious trot out among the +sand-hills. + +For a time she saw no one, and commenced to fear that the whole thing +had been a gruesomely real, practical jest. So she stopped her horse +and imitated the signal whistle as well as she could. It was repeated +immediately behind her--almost in her ear, and she turned to make out +the dark form of a tall horseman. + +"A bad night for the start," called Wilbur. "Do you want to wait till +to-morrow?" + +She could not answer for a moment, the wind whipping against her face, +while a big drop stung her lips. + +She said at length: "Would a night like this stop Pierre--or McGurk?" + +For answer she heard his laughter. + +"Then I'll start. I must never stop for weather." + +He rode up beside her. + +"This is the start of the finish." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Nothing. But somewhere on this ride, I've an idea a question will be +answered for me." + +"What question?" + +Instead of replying he said: "You've got a slicker on?" + +"Yes." + +"Then follow me. We'll gallop into the wind a while and get the horses +warmed up. Afterward we'll take the valley of the Old Crow and follow +it up to the crest of the range." + +His horse lunged out ahead of hers, and she followed, leaning far +forward against a wind that kept her almost breathless. For several +minutes they cantered steadily, and before the end of the gallop she +was sitting straight up, her heart beating fast, a faint smile on her +lips, and the blood running hot in her veins. For the battle was +begun, she knew, by that first sharp gallop, and here at the start she +felt confident of her strength. When she met Pierre she could force +him to turn back with her. + +Wilbur checked his horse to a trot; they climbed a hill, and just as +the rain broke on them with a rattling gust they swung into the valley +of the Old Crow. Above them in the sky the thunder rode; the rain +whipped against the rocks like the rattle of a thousand flying hoofs; +and now and again the lightning flashed across the sky. + +Through that vast accompaniment they moved on in the night straight +toward the heart of the mountains which sprang into sight with every +flash of the lightning and seemed toppling almost above them, yet they +were weary miles away, as she knew. + +By those same flashes she caught glimpses of the face of Wilbur. She +hardly knew him. She had seen him always big, gentle, handsome, +good-natured; now he was grown harder, with a stern set of the jaw, and +a certain square outline of face. It had seemed impossible. Now she +began to guess how the law could have placed a price upon his head. +For he belonged out here with the night and the crash of the storm, +with free, strong, lawless things about him. + +An awe grew up in her, and she was filled half with dread and half with +curiosity at the thought of facing him, as she must many a time, across +the camp-fire. In a way, he was the ladder by which she climbed to an +understanding of Pierre le Rouge, Red Pierre. For that Pierre, she +knew, was to big Wilbur what Dick himself was to the great mass of +law-abiding men. Accident had cut Wilbur adrift, but it was more than +accident which started Pierre on the road to outlawry; it was the sheer +love of dangerous chance, the glory in fighting other men. This was +Pierre. + +What was the man for whom Pierre hunted? What was McGurk? Not even +the description of Wilbur had proved very enlightening. Her thought of +him was vague, nebulous, and taking many forms. Sometimes he was tall +and dark and stern. Again he was short and heavy and somewhat deformed +of body. But always he was everywhere in the night about her. + +She guessed at his voice rumbling through an echo of the thunder; she +heard the sound of his pursuing horse in the rattle of the following +rain. Her work was to keep this relentless lone rider away from +Pierre; it was as if she strove to keep the ocean tide away from the +shore. They seemed doomed to meet and shock. + +All this she pondered as they began the ride up the valley, but as the +long journey continued, and the hours and the miles rolled past them, a +racking weariness possessed her and numbed her mind. She began to wish +desperately for morning, but even morning might not bring an end to the +ride. That would be at the will of the outlaw beside her. Finally, +only one picture remained to her. It stabbed across the darkness of +her mind--the red hair and the keen eyes of Pierre. + +The storm decreased as they went up the valley. Finally the wind fell +off to a pleasant breeze, and the clouds of the rain broke in the +center of the heavens and toppled west in great tumbling masses. In +half an hour's time the sky was clear, and a cold moon looked down on +the blue-black evergreens, shining faintly with the wet, and on the +dead black of the mountains. + +For the first time in all that ride her companion spoke: "In an hour +the gray will begin in the east. Suppose we camp here, eat, get a bit +of sleep, and then start again?" + +As if she had waited for permission, fighting against her weariness, +she now let down the bars of her will, and a tingling stupor swept over +her body and broke in hot, numbing waves on her brain. + +"Whatever you say. I'm afraid I couldn't ride much further to-night." + +"Look up at me." + +She raised her head. + +"No; you're all in. But you've made a game ride. I never dreamed +there was so much iron in you. We'll make our fire just inside the +trees and carry water up from the river, eh?" + +A scanty growth of the evergreens walked over the hills and skirted +along the valley, leaving a broad, sandy waste in the center where the +river at times swelled with melted snow or sudden rains and rushed over +the lower valley in a broad, muddy flood. + +At the edge of the forest he picketed the horses in a little open space +carpeted with wet, dead grass. It took him some time to find dry wood. +So he wrapped her in blankets and left her sitting on a saddle. As the +chill left her body she began to grow delightfully drowsy, and vaguely +she heard the crack of his hatchet. He had found a rotten stump and +was tearing off the wet outer bark to get at the dry wood within. + +After that it was only a moment before a fire sputtered feebly and +smoked at her feet. She watched it, only half conscious, in her utter +weariness, and seeing dimly the hollow-eyed face of the man who stooped +above the blaze. Now it grew quickly, and increased to a sharp-pointed +pyramid of red flame. The bright sparks showered up, crackling and +snapping, and when she followed their flight she saw the darkly nodding +tops of the evergreens above her. + +With the fire well under way, he took the coffee-pot to get water from +the river, and left her to fry the bacon. The fumes of the frying meat +wakened her at once, and brushed even the thought of her exhaustion +from her mind. She was hungry--ravenously hungry. + +So she tended the bacon slices with care until they grew brown and +crisped and curled at the edges. After that she removed the pan from +the fire, and it was not until then that she began to wonder why Wilbur +was so long in returning with the water. The bacon grew cold; she +heated it again and was mightily tempted to taste one piece of it, but +restrained herself to wait for Dick. + +Still he did not come. She stood up and called, her high voice rising +sharp and small through the trees. It seemed that some sound answered, +so she smiled and sat down. Ten minutes passed and he was still gone. +A cold alarm swept over her at that. She dropped the pan and ran out +from the trees. + +Everywhere was the bright moonlight--over the wet rocks, and sand, and +glimmering on the slow tide of the river, but nowhere could she see +Wilbur, or a form that looked like a man. Then the moonlight glinted +on something at the edge of the river. She ran to it and found the +coffee-can half in the water and partially filled with sand. + +A wild temptation to scream came over her, but the tight muscles of her +throat let out no sound. But if Wilbur were not here, where had he +gone? He could not have vanished into thin air. The ripple of the +water washing on the sand replied. Yes, that Current might have rolled +his body away. + +To shut out the grim sight of the river she turned. Stretched across +the ground at her feet she saw clearly the impression of a body in the +moist sand. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +A HINT OF WHITE + +The heels had left two deeply defined gouges in the ground; there was a +sharp hollow where the head had lain, and a broad depression for the +shoulders. It was the impression of the body of a man--a large man +like Wilbur. Any hope, any doubt she might have had, slipped from her +mind, and despair rolled into it with an even, sullen current, like the +motion of the river. + +It is strange what we do with our big moments of fear and sorrow and +even of joy. Now Mary stooped and carefully washed out the coffee-pot, +and filled it again with water higher up the bank; and turned back +toward the edge of the trees. + +It was all subconscious, this completing of the task which Wilbur had +begun, and subconscious still was her careful rebuilding of the fire +till it flamed high, as though she were setting a signal to recall the +wanderer. But the flame, throwing warmth and red light across her +eyes, recalled her sharply to reality, and she looked up and saw the +dull dawn brightening beyond the dark evergreens. + +Guilt, too, swept over her, for she remembered what big, handsome Dick +Wilbur had said: He would meet his end through a woman. Now it had +come to him, and through her. + +She cringed at the thought, for what was she that a man should die in +her service? She raised her hands with a moan to the nodding tops of +the trees, to the vast, black sky above them, and the full knowledge of +Wilbur's strength came to her, for had he not ridden calmly, defiantly, +into the heart of this wilderness, confident in his power to care both +for himself and for her? But she! What could she do wandering by +herself? The image of Pierre le Rouge grew dim indeed and sad and +distant. + +She looked about her at the pack, which had been distributed expertly, +and disposed on the ground by Wilbur. She could not even lash it in +place behind the saddle. So she drew the blanket once more around her +shoulders and sat down to think. + +She might return to the house--doubtless she could find her way back. +And leave Pierre in the heart of the mountains, surely lost to her +forever. She made a determination, sullen, like a child, to ride on +and on into the wilderness, and let fate take care of her. The pack +she could bundle together as best she might; she would live as she +might; and for a guide there would be the hunger for Pierre. + +So she ended her thoughts with a hope; her head nodded lower, and she +slept the deep, deep sleep of the exhausted mind and the lifeless body. +She woke hours later with a start, instantly alert, quivering with fear +and life and energy, for she felt like one who has gone to sleep with +voices in his ear. + +While she slept some one had been near her; she could have sworn it +before her startled eyes glanced around. + +And though she kept whispering, with white lips, "No, no; it is +impossible!" yet there was evidence which proved it. The fire should +have burned out, but instead it flamed more brightly than ever, and +there was a little heap of fuel laid conveniently close. Moreover, +both horses were saddled, and the pack lashed on the saddle of her own +mount. + +Whatever man or demon had done this work evidently intended that she +should ride Wilbur's beautiful bay. Yes, for when she went closer, +drawn by her wonder, she found that the stirrups had been much +shortened. + +Nothing was forgotten by this invisible caretaker; he had even left out +the cooking-tins, and she found a little batter of flapjack flour mixed. + +The riddle was too great for solving. Perhaps Wilbur had disappeared +merely to play a practical jest on her; but that supposition was too +childish to be retained an instant. Perhaps--perhaps Pierre himself +had discovered her, but having vowed never to see her again, he cared +for her like the invisible hands in the old Greek fable. + +This, again, an instinctive knowledge made her dismiss. If he were so +close, loving her, he could not stay away; she read in her own heart, +and knew. Then it must be something else; evil, because it feared to +be seen; not wholly evil, because it surrounded her with care. + +At least this new emotion obscured somewhat the terror and the sorrow +of Wilbur's disappearance. She cooked her breakfast as if obeying the +order of the unseen, climbed into the saddle of Wilbur's horse, and +started off up the valley, leading her own mount. + +Every moment or so she turned in the saddle suddenly in the hope of +getting a glimpse of the follower, but even when she surveyed the +entire stretch of country from the crest of a low hill, she saw +nothing--not the least sign of life. + +She rode slowly, this day, for she was stiff and sore from the violent +journey of the night before, but though she went slowly, she kept +steadily at the trail. It was a broad and pleasant one, being the +beaten sand of the river-bottom; and the horse she rode was the finest +that ever pranced beneath her. + +His trot was as smooth and springy as the gallop of most horses, and +when she let him run over a few level stretches, it was as if she had +suddenly been taken up from the earth on wings. There was something +about the animal, too, which reminded her of its vanished owner; for it +had strength and pride and gentleness at once. Unquestionably it took +kindly to its new rider; for once when she dismounted the big horse +walked up behind and nuzzled her shoulder. + +The mountains were much plainer before the end of the day. They rose +sheer up in wave upon frozen wave like water piled ragged by some +terrific gale, with the tops of the waters torn and tossed and then +frozen forever in that position, like a fantastic and gargantuan mask +of dreaming terror. It overawed the heart of Mary Brown to look up to +them, but there was growing in her a new impulse of friendly +understanding with all this scalped, bald region of rocks, as if in +entering the valley she had passed through the gate which closes out +the gentler world, and now she was admitted as a denizen of the +mountain-desert, that scarred and ugly asylum for crime and fear and +grandeur. + +Feeling this new emotion, the old horizons of her mind gave way and +widened; her gentle nature, which had known nothing but smiles, +admitted the meaning of a frown. Did she not ride under the very +shadow of that frown with her two horses? Was she not armed? She +touched the holster at her hip, and smiled. To be sure, she could +never hit a mark with that ponderous weapon, but at least the pistol +gave the seeming of a dangerous lone rider, familiar with the wilds. + +It was about dark, and she was on the verge of looking about for a +suitable camping-place, when the bay halted sharply, tossed up his +head, and whinnied. From the far distance she thought she heard the +beginning of a whinny in reply. She could not be sure, but the +possibility made her pulse quicken. In this region, she knew, no +stranger could be a friend. + +So she started the bay at a gallop and put a couple of swift miles +between her and the point at which she had heard the sound; no living +creature, she was sure, could have followed the pace the bay held +during that distance. So, secure in her loneliness, she trotted the +horse around a bend of the rocks and came on the sudden light of a +camp-fire. + +It was too late to wheel and gallop away; so she remained with her hand +fumbling at the butt of the revolver, and her wide, blue eyes fixed on +the flicker of the fire. Not a voice accosted her. As far as she +could peer among the lithe trunks of the saplings, not a sign of a +living thing was near. + +Yet whoever built that fire must be near, for it was obviously, newly +laid. Perhaps some fleeing outlaw had pitched his camp here and had +been startled by her coming. In that case he lurked somewhere in the +woods at that moment, his keen eyes fixed on her, and his gun gripped +hard in his hand. Perhaps--and the thought thrilled her--this little +camp had been prepared by the same power, human or unearthly, which had +watched over her early that morning. + +All reason and sane caution warned her to ride on and leave that camp +unmolested, but an overwhelming, tingling curiosity besieged her. The +thin column of smoke rose past the dark trees like a ghost, and +reaching the unsheltered space above the trees, was smitten by a light +wind and jerked away at a sharp angle. + +She looked closer and saw a bed made of a great heap of the tips of +limbs of spruce, a bed softer than down and more fragrant than any +manufactured perfume, however costly. + +Possibly it was the sight of this bed which tempted her down from the +saddle, at last. With the reins over her arm, she stood close to the +fire and warmed her hands, peering all the while on every side, like +some wild and beautiful creature tempted by the bait of the trap, but +shrinking from the scent of man. + +As she stood there a broad, yellow moon edged its way above the hills +and rolled up through the black trees and then floated through the sky. +Beneath such a moon no harm could come to her. It was while she stared +at it, letting her tensed alertness relax little by little, that she +saw, or thought she saw, a hint of moving white pass over the top of +the rise of ground and disappear among the trees. + +She could not be sure, but her first impulse was to gather the reins +with a jerk and place her foot in the stirrup; but then she looked back +and saw the fire, burning low now and asking like a human voice to be +replenished from the heap of small, broken fuel near by; and she saw +also the softly piled bed of evergreens. + +She removed her foot from the stirrup. What mattered that imaginary +figure of moving white? She felt a strong power of protection lying +all about her, breathing out to her with the keen scent of the pines, +fanning her face with the chill of the night breeze. She was alone, +but she was secure in the wilderness. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +JACK + +For many a minute she waited by that camp-fire, but there was never a +sign of the builder of it, though she centered all her will in making +her eyes and ears sharper to pierce through the darkness and to gather +from the thousand obscure whispers of the forest any sounds of human +origin. So she grew bold at length to take off the pack and the +saddles; the camp was hers, built for her coming by the invisible power +which surrounded her, which read her mind, it seemed, and chose +beforehand the certain route which she must follow. + +She resigned herself to that force without question, and the worry of +her search disappeared. It seemed certain that this omnipotence, +whatever it might be, was reading her wishes and acting with all its +power to fulfill them, so that in the end it was merely a question of +time before she should accomplish her mission--before she should meet +Pierre le Rouge face to face. + +That night her sleep was deep, indeed, and she only wakened when the +slant light of the sun struck across her eyes. It was a bright day, +crisp and chill, and through the clear air the mountains seemed leaning +directly above her, and chief of all two peaks, almost exactly similar, +black monsters which ruled the range. Toward the gorge between them +the valley of the Old Crow aimed its course, and straight up that +diminishing cańon she rode all day. + +The broad, sandy bottom changed and contracted until the channel was +scarcely wide enough for the meager stream of water, and beside it she +picked her way along a narrow bridle-path with banks on either side, +which became with every mile more like cliffs, walling her in and +dooming her to a single destination. + +It was evening before she came to the headwaters of the Old Crow, and +rode out into the gorge between the two mountains. The trail failed +her here. There was no semblance of a ravine to follow, except the +mighty gorge between the two peaks, and into the dark throat of this +pass she ventured, like some maiden of medieval romance riding through +a solemn gate with the guarding towers tall and black on either side. + +The moment she was well started in it and the steep shadow of the +evening fell across her almost like night from the west, her heart grew +cold as the air of that lofty region. A sense of coming danger filled +her, like a little child when it passes from a lighted room into one +dark and still. Yet she kept on, holding a tight rein, throwing many a +fearful glance at the vast rocks which might have concealed an entire +army in every mile of their extent. + +When she found the cabin she mistook it at first for merely another +rock of singular shape. It was at this shape that she stared, and +checked her horse, and not till then did she note the faint flicker of +a light no brighter or more distinct than the phosphorescent glow of +the eyes of a hunted beast. + +All her impulse was to drive her spurs home and pass that place at a +racing gallop, but she checked the impulse sharply and began to reason. +In the first place, it was doubtless only the cabin of some prospector, +such as she had often heard of. In the second place, night was almost +upon her, and she saw no desirable camping-place, or at least any with +the necessary water at hand. + +What harm could come to her? Among Western men, she well knew a woman +is safer than all the law and the police of the settled East can make +her, so she nerved her courage and advanced toward the faint, changing +light. + +The cabin was hidden very cunningly. Crouched among the mighty +boulders which earthquakes and storms of some wilder, earlier epoch had +torn away from the side of the crags above, the house was like another +stone, leaning its back to the mountain for support. + +When she drew very close she knew that the light which glimmered at the +window must come from an open fire, and the thought of a fire warmed +her very heart. She hallooed, and receiving no answer, fastened the +horses and entered the house. The door swung to behind her, as if of +its own volition it wished to make her close prisoner. + +The place consisted of one room, and not a spacious one at that, but +arranged as a shelter, not a home. The cooking, apparently, was done +over the open hearth, for there was no sign of any stove, and, +moreover, on the wall near the fireplace hung several soot-blackened +pans and the inevitable coffee-pot. + +There were two bunks built on opposite sides of the room, and in the +middle a table was made of a long section split from the heart of a log +by wedges, apparently, and still rude and undressed, except for the +preliminary smoothing off which had been done with a broad-ax. + +The great plank was supported at either end by a roughly constructed +saw-buck. It was very low, and for this reason two fairly square +boulders of comfortable proportions were sufficiently high to serve as +chairs. + +For the rest, the furniture was almost too meager to suggest human +habitation, but from nails on the wall there depended a few shirts and +a pair of chaps, as well as a much-battered quirt. But a bucket of +water in a corner suggested cleanliness, and a small, round, highly +polished steel plate, hanging on the wall in lieu of a mirror, further +fortified her decision that the owner of this place must be a man +somewhat particular as to his appearance. + +Here she interrupted her observations to build up the fire, which was +flickering down and apparently on the verge of going out. She worked +busily for a few minutes, and a roaring blaze rewarded her; she took +off her slicker to enjoy the warmth, and in doing so, turned, and saw +the owner of the place standing with folded arms just inside the door. + +"Making yourself to home?" asked the host, in a low, strangely pleasant +voice. + +"Do you mind?" asked Mary Brown. "I couldn't find a place that would +do for camping." + +And she summoned her most winning smile. It was wasted, she knew at +once, for the stranger hardened perceptibly, and his lip curled +slightly in scorn or anger. In all her life Mary had never met a man +so obdurate, and, moreover, she felt that he could not be wooed into a +good humor. + +"If you'd gone farther up the gorge," said the other, "you'd of found +the best sort of a campin' place--water and everything." + +"Then I'll go," said Mary, shrinking at the thought of the strange, +cold outdoors compared with this cheery fire. But she put on the +slicker and started for the door. + +At the last moment the host was touched with compunction. He called: +"Wait a minute. There ain't no call to hurry. If you can get along +here just stick around." + +For a moment Mary hesitated, knowing that only the unwritten law of +Western hospitality compelled that speech; it was the crackle and flare +of the bright fire which overcame her pride. + +She laid off the slicker again, saying, with another smile: "For just a +few minutes, if you don't mind." + +"Sure," said the other gracelessly, and tossed his own slicker onto a +bunk. + +Covertly, but very earnestly, Mary was studying him. He was hardly +more than a boy--handsome, slender. + +Now that handsome face was under a cloud of gloom, a frown on the +forehead and a sneer on the lips, but it was something more than the +expression which repelled Mary. For she felt that no matter how she +wooed him, she could never win the sympathy of this darkly handsome, +cruel youth; he was aloof from her, and the distance between them could +never be crossed. She knew at once that the mysterious bridges which +link men with women broke down in this case, and she was strongly +tempted to leave the cabin to the sole possession of her surly host. + +It was the warmth of the fire which once more decided against her +reason, so she laid hands on one of the blocks of stone to roll it +nearer to the hearth. She could not budge it. Then she caught the +sneering laughter of the man, and strove again in a fury. It was no +use; for the stone merely rocked a little and settled back in its place +with a bump. + +"Here," said the boy, "I'll move it for you." + +It was a hard lift for him, but he set his teeth, raised the stone in +his slender hands, and set it down again at a comfortable distance from +the fire. + +"Thank you," smiled Mary, but the boy stood panting against the wall, +and for answer merely bestowed on her a rather malicious glance of +triumph, as though he gloried in his superior strength and despised her +weakness. + +Some conversation was absolutely necessary, for the silence began to +weigh on her. She said: "My name is Mary Brown." + +"Is it?" said the boy, quite without interest. "You can call me Jack." + +He sat down on the other stone, his dark face swept by the shadows of +the flames, and rolled a cigarette, not deftly, but like one who is +learning the mastery of the art. It surprised Mary, watching his +fumbling fingers. She decided that Jack must be even younger than he +looked. + +She noticed also that the boy cast, from time to time, a sharp, rather +worried glance of expectation toward the door, as if he feared it would +open and disclose some important arrival. Furthermore, those old worn +shirts hanging on the wall were much too large for the throat and +shoulders of Jack. + +Apparently, he lived there with some companion, and a companion of such +a nature that he did not wish him to be seen by visitors. This +explained the lad's coldness in receiving a guest; it also stimulated +Mary to linger about a few more minutes. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE WHISPER OF THE KNIFE + +Not that she stayed there without a growing fear, but she still felt +about her, like the protection of some invisible cloak, the presence of +the strange guide who had followed her up the valley of the Old Crow. + +It seemed as if the boy were reading her mind. + +"See you got two horses. Come up alone?" + +"Most of the way," said Mary, and tingled with a rather feline pleasure +to see that her curtness merely sharpened the interest of Jack. + +The boy puffed on his cigarette, not with long, slow breaths of +inhalation like a practised smoker, but with a puckered face as though he +feared that the fumes might drift into his eyes. + +"Why," thought Mary, "he's only a child!" + +Her heart warmed a little as she adopted this view-point of her surly +host. Being warmed, and having much to say, words came of themselves. +Surely it would do no harm to tell the story to this queer urchin, who +might be able to throw some light on the nature of the invisible +protector. + +"I started with a man for guide." She fixed a searching gaze on the boy. +"His name was Dick Wilbur." + +She could not tell whether it was a tremble of the boy's hand or a short +motion to knock off the cigarette ash. + +"Did you say 'was' Dick Wilbur?" + +"Yes. Did you know him?" + +"Heard of him, I think. Kind of a hard one, wasn't he?" + +"No, no! A fine, brave, gentle fellow--poor Dick!" + +She stopped, her eyes filling with tears at many a memory. + +"H-m!" coughed the boy. "I thought he was one of old Boone's gang? If +he's dead, that made the last of 'em--except Red Pierre." + +It was like the sound of a trumpet call at her ear. Mary sat up with a +start. + +"What do you know of Red Pierre?" + +The boy flushed a little, and could not quite meet her eye. + +"Nothin'." + +"At least you know that he's still alive?" + +"Sure. Any one does. When he dies the whole range will know about +it--damn quick. I know _that_ much about Red Pierre; but who doesn't?" + +"I, for one." + +"You!" + +Strangely enough, there was more of accusation than of surprise in the +word. + +"Certainly," repeated Mary. "I've only been in this part of the country +for a short time. I really know almost nothing about the--the legends." + +"Legends?" said the boy, and laughed with a voice of such rich, light +music that it took the breath from Mary. "Legend? Say, lady, if Red +Pierre is just a legend the Civil War ain't no more'n a fable. Legend? +You go anywhere on the range an' get 'em talking about that legend, and +they'll make you think it's an honest-to-goodness fact, and no mistake." + +Mary queried earnestly: "Tell me about Red Pierre. It's almost as hard +to learn anything of him as it is to find out anything about McGurk." + +"What you doing?" asked the boy, keen with suspicion. "Making a study of +them two for a book?" + +He wiped a damp forehead. + +"Take it from me, lady, it ain't healthy to join up them two even in +talk!" + +"Is there any harm in words?" + +The boy was so upset for some unknown reason that he rose and paced up +and down the room in a nervous tremor. + +"Lots of harm in fool words." + +He sat down again, and seemed a little anxious to explain his unusual +conduct. + +"Ma'am, suppose you had a well plumb full of nitroglycerin in your back +yard; suppose there was a forest fire comin' your way from all sides; +would you like to have people talk about the nitroglycerin and that +forest fire meeting? Even the talk would give you chills. That's the +way it is with Pierre and McGurk. When they meet there's going to be a +fight that'll stop the hearts of the people that have to look on." + +Mary smiled to cover her excitement. + +"But are they coming your way?" + +The question seemed to infuriate young Jack, who cried: "Ain't that a +fool way of talkin'? Lady, they're coming every one's way. You never +know where they'll start from or where they'll land. If there's a +thunder-cloud all over the sky, do you know where the lightning's going +to strike?" + +"Excuse me,", said Mary, but she was still eager with curiosity, "but I +should think that a youngster like you wouldn't have anything to fear +from even those desperadoes." + +"Youngster, eh?" snarled the boy, whose wrath seemed Implacable. "I can +make my draw and start my gun as fast as any man--except them two, +maybe"--he lowered his voice somewhat even to name them--"Pierre--McGurk!" + +"It seems hopeless to find out anything about McGurk," said Mary, "but at +least you can tell me safely about Red Pierre." + +"Interested in him, eh?" said the boy dryly. + +"Well, he's a rather romantic figure, don't you think?" + +"Romantic? Lady, about a month ago I was talking with a lady that was a +widow because of Red Pierre. She didn't think him none too romantic." + +"Red Pierre had killed the woman's husband?" repeated Mary, with pale +lips. + +"Yep. He was one of the gang that took a chance with Pierre and got +bumped off. Had three bullets in him and dropped without getting his gun +out of the leather. Pierre sure does a nice, artistic job. He serves +you a murder with all the trimmings. If I wanted to die nice and polite +without making a mess, I don't know who I'd rather go to than Red Pierre." + +"A murderer!" mused Mary, with bowed head. + +The boy opened his lips to speak, but changed his mind and sat regarding +the girl with a somewhat sinister smile. + +"But might it not be," said Mary, "that he killed one man in self-defense +and then his destiny drove him, and bad luck forced him into one bad +position after another? There have been histories as strange as that, +you know." + +Jack laughed again, but most of the music was gone from the sound, and it +was simply a low, ominous purr. + +"Sure," he said. "You can take a bear-cub and keep him tame till he gets +the taste of blood, but after that you got to keep him muzzled, you know. +Pierre needs a muzzle, but there ain't enough gun-fighters on the range +to put one on him." + +Something like pride crept into the boy's voice while he spoke, and he +ended with a ringing tone. Then, feeling the curious, judicial eyes of +Mary upon him, he abruptly changed the subject. + +"You say Dick Wilbur is dead?" + +"I don't know. I think he is." + +"But he started out with you. You ought to know." + +"It was like this: We had camped on the edge of the trees coming up the +Old Crow Valley, and Dick went off with the can to get water at the +river. He was gone a long time, and when I went out to look for him I +found the can at the margin of the river half filled with sand, and +beside it there was the impression of the body of a big man. That was +all I found, and Dick never came back." + +They were both silent for a moment. + +"Could he have fallen into the river?" + +"Sure. He was probably helped in. Did you look for the footprints?" + +"I didn't think of that." + +Jack was speechless with scorn. + +"Sat down and cried, eh?" + +"I was dazed; I couldn't think. But he couldn't have been killed by some +other man. There was no shot fired; I should have heard it." + +Jack moistened his lips. + +"Lady, a knife don't make much sound either going or coming out--not much +more sound than a whisper, but that whisper means a lot. I got an idea +that Dick heard it. Then the river covered him up." + +He stopped short and stared at Mary with squinted eyes. + +"D'you mean to tell me that you had the nerve to come all the way up the +Old Crow by yourself?" + +"Every inch of the way." + +Jack leaned forward, sneering, savage. + +"Then I suppose you put the hitch that's on that pack outside?" + +"No." + +Jack was dumfounded. + +"Then you admit--" + +"That first night when I went to sleep I felt as if there were something +near me. When I woke up there was a bright fire burning in front of me +and the pack had been lashed and placed on one of the horses. At first I +thought that it was Dick, who had come back. But Dick didn't appear all +day. The next night--" + +"Wait!" said Jack. "This is gettin' sort of creepy. If you was the +drinking kind I'd say you'd been hitting up the red-eye." + +"The next evening," continued Mary steadily, "I came about dark on a +camp-fire with a bed of twigs near it. I stayed by the fire, but no one +appeared. Once I thought I heard a horse whinny far away, and once I +thought that I saw a streak of white disappear over the top of a hill." + +The boy sprang up, shuddering with panic. + +"You saw what?" + +"Nothing. I thought for a minute that it was a bit of something white, +but it was gone all at once." + +"White--vanished at once--went into the dark as fast as a horse can +gallop?" + +"Something like that. Do you think it was some one?" + +For answer the boy whipped out his revolver, examined it, and spun the +cylinder with shaking hands. Then he said through set teeth: "So you +come up here trailin' _him_ after you, eh?" + +"Who?" + +"McGurk!" + +The name came like a rifle shot and Mary rose in turn and shrank back +toward the wall, for there was murder in the lighted black eyes which +stared after her and crumbling fear in her own heart at the thought of +McGurk hovering near,--of the peril that impended for Pierre. Of the +nights in the valley of the Crow she refused to let herself think. Cold +beads of perspiration stood out on her forehead. + +"You fool--you fool! Damn your pretty pink-and-white face--you've done +for us all! Get out!" + +Mary moved readily enough toward the door, her teeth chattering with +terror in the face of this fury. + +Jack continued wildly: "Done for us all; got us all as good as under the +sod. I wish you was in-- Get out quick, or I'll forget--you're a woman!" + +He broke into a shrill, hysterical laughter, which stopped short and +finished in a heart-broken whisper: "Pierre!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +LAUGHTER + +At that Mary, who stood with her hand on the latch, whirled and stood +wide-eyed, her astonishment greater than her fear, for that whisper +told her a thousand things. + +Through her mind all the time that she stayed in the cabin there had +passed a curious surmise that this very place might be the covert of +Pierre le Rouge--he of the dark red hair and the keen blue eyes. There +was a fatality about it, for the invisible Power which had led her up +the valley of the Old Crow surely would not make mistakes. + +In her search for Pierre, Providence brought her to this place, and +Providence could not be wrong. This, a vague emotion stirring in her +somewhere between reason and the heart, grew to an almost certain +knowledge as she heard the whisper, the faint, heartbroken whisper: +"Pierre!" + +And when she turned to the boy again, noting the shirts and the chaps +hanging at the wall, she knew they belonged to Pierre as surely as if +she had seen him hang them there. + +The fingers of Jack were twisted around the butt of his revolver, white +with the intensity of the pressure. + +Now he cried: "Get out! You've done your work; get out!" + +But Mary stepped straight toward the murderous, pale face. + +"I'll stay," she said, "and wait for Pierre." + +The boy blanched. + +"Stay?" he echoed. + +The heart of Mary went out to this trusty companion who feared for his +friend. + +She said gently: "Listen; I've come all this way looking for Pierre, +but not to harm him, or to betray him, I'm his friend. Can't you trust +me, Jack?" + +"Trust you? No more than I'll trust what came with you!" + +And the fierce black eyes lingered on Mary and then fled past her +toward the door, as if the boy debated hotly and silently whether or +not it would be better to put an end to this intruder, but stayed his +hand, fearing that Power which had followed her up the valley of the +Old Crow. + +It was that same invisible guardian who made Mary strong now; it was +like the hand of a friend on her shoulder, like the voice of a friend +whispering reassuring words at her ear. She faced those blazing, black +eyes steadily. It would be better to be frank, wholly frank. + +"This is the house of Pierre. I know it as surely as if I saw him +sitting here now. You can't deceive me. And I'll stay. I'll even +tell you why. Once he said that he loved me, Jack, but he left me +because of a strange superstition; and so I've followed to tell him +that I want to be near no matter what fate hangs over him." + +And the boy, whiter still, and whiter, looked at her with clearing, +narrowing eyes. + +"So you're one of them," said the boy softly; "you're one of the fools +who listen to Red Pierre. Well, I know you; I've known you from the +minute I seen you crouched there at the fire. You're the one Pierre +met at the dance at the Crittenden schoolhouse. Tell me!" + +"Yes," said Mary, marveling greatly. + +"And he told you he loved you?" + +"Yes." + +It was a fainter voice now, and the color was going up her cheeks. + +The lad fixed her with his cold scorn and then turned on his heel and +slipped into an easy position on the bunk. + +"Then wait for him to come. He'll be here before morning." + +But Mary followed across the room and touched the shoulder of Jack. It +was as if she touched a wild wolf, for the lad whirled and struck her +hand away in an outburst of silent fury. + +"Why shouldn't I stay? He hasn't--he hasn't changed--Jack?" + +The insolent black eyes looked up and scanned her slowly from head to +foot. Then he laughed in the same deliberate manner. It was to Mary +as if her clothes had been torn from her body and she were exposed to +the bold eyes of a crowd, like a slave put up for sale. + +"No, I guess he thinks as much of you now as he ever did." + +"You are lying to me," said the girl faintly, but the terror in her +eyes said another thing. + +"He thinks as much of you as he ever did. He thinks as much of you as +he does of the rest of the soft-handed, pretty-faced fools who listen +to him and believe him. I suppose----" + +He broke off to laugh heartily again, with a jarring, forced note which +escaped Mary. + +"I suppose that he made love to you one minute and the next told you +that bad luck--something about the cross--kept him away from you?" + +Each slow word, like a blow of a fist, drove the girl quivering back. +She closed her eyes to shut out the scorn of that handsome, boyish +face; closed her eyes to summon out from the dark of her mind the +picture of Pierre le Rouge as he had knelt before her and told her of +his love; of Pierre le Rouge as he had lain beside her with the small, +shining cross held high above his head, and waited for death to come +over them both. She saw all this, and then she heard the voice of +Pierre renouncing her. + +She opened her eyes again. She cried: + +"It is all a lie! If he is not true, there's no truth in the world." + +"If you come down to that," said the boy coldly, "there ain't much +wasted this side of the Rockies. It's about as scarce as rain." + +He continued in an almost kindly tone: "What would you do with a wild +man like Red Pierre? Run along; git out of here; grab your horse, and +beat it back to civilization; there ain't no place for you up here in +the wilderness." + +"What would I do with him?" cried the girl. + +"Love him!" + +It seemed as though her words, like whips, lashed the boy back to his +murderous anger. He lay with blazing eyes, watching her for a moment, +too moved to speak. At last he propped himself on one elbow, shook a +small, white-knuckled fist under the nose of Mary, and cried: "Then +what would he do with you?" + +He went on: "Would he wear you around his neck like a watch charm?" + +"I'd bring him back with me--back into the East, and he would be lost +among the crowds and never suspected of his past." + +"_You'd_ bring Pierre anywhere? Say, lady, that's like hearing the +sheep talk about leading the wolf around by the nose. If all the men +in the ranges can't catch him, or make him budge an inch out of the way +he's picked, do you think you could stir him?" + +Jeering laughter shook him; it seemed that he would never be done with +his laughter, yet there was a hint of the hysterically mirthless in it. +It came to a jarring stop. + +He said: "D'you think he's just bein' driven around by chance? Lady, +d'you think he even wants to get out of this life of his? No, he loves +it! He loves the danger. D'you think a man that's used to breathing +in a whirlwind can get used to living in calm air? It can't be done!" + +And the girl answered steadily: "For every man there is one woman, and +for that woman the man will do strange things." + +"You poor, white-raced, whimpering fool," snarled the boy, gripping at +his gun again, "d'you dream that _you're_ the one that's picked out for +Pierre? No, there's another!" + +"Another? A woman who----" + +"Who loves Pierre--a woman that's fit for him. She can ride like a +man; she can shoot almost as straight and as fast as Pierre; she can +handle a knife; and she's been through hell for Pierre, and she'll go +through it again. She can ride the trail all day with him and finish +it less fagged than he is. She can chop down a tree as well as he can, +and build a fire better. She can hold up a train with him or rob a +bank and slip through a town in the middle of the night and laugh with +him about it afterward around a camp-fire. I ask you, is that the sort +of a woman that's meant for Pierre?" + +And the girl answered, with bowed head: "She is." + +She cried instantly afterward, cutting short the look of wild triumph +on the face of the boy: "But there's no such woman; there's no one who +could do these things! I know it!" + +The boy sprang to his feet, flushing as red as the girl was white. + +"You fool, if you're blind and got to have your eyes open to see, look +at the woman!" + +And she tore the wide-brimmed sombrero from her head. Down past the +shoulders flooded a mass of blue-black hair. The firelight flickered +and danced across the silken shimmer of it. It swept wildly past the +waist, a glorious, night-dark tide in which the heart of a strong man +could be tangled and lost. With quivering lips Jacqueline cried: "Look +at me! Am I worthy of him?" + +Short step by step Mary went back, staring with fascinated eyes as one +who sees some devilish, midnight revelry, and shrinks away from it lest +the sight should blast her. She covered her eyes with her hands but +instantly strong grips fell on her wrists and her hands were jerked +down from her face. She looked up into the eyes of a beautiful tigress. + +"Answer me--your yellow hair against mine--your child fingers against +my grip--are you equal with me?" + +But the strength of Jacqueline faded and grew small; her arms fell to +her side; she stepped back, with a rising pallor taking the place of +the red. For Mary, brushing her hands, one gloved and one bare, before +her eyes, returned the stare of the mountain girl with a calm and equal +scorn. Her heart was breaking, but a mighty loathing filled up her +veins in place of strength. + +"Tell me," she said, "was--was this man living with you when he came to +me and--and made speeches--about love?" + +"Bah! He was living with me. I tell you, he came back and laughed +with me about it, and told me about your baby-blue eyes when they +filled with tears; laughed and laughed and laughed, I tell you, as I +could laugh now." + +The other twisted her hands together, moaning: "And I have followed +him, even to the place where he keeps his--woman? Ah, how I hate +myself; how I despise myself. I'm unclean--unclean in my own eyes!" + +"Wait!" called Jacqueline. "You are leaving too soon. The night is +cold." + +"I am going. There is no need to gibe at me." + +"But wait--he will want to see you! I will tell him that you have been +here--that you came clear up the valley of the Old Crow to see him and +beg him on your knees to love you--he'll be angry to have missed the +scene!" + +But the door closed on Mary as she fled with her hands pressed against +her ears. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +A TALE OF A CARELESS MAN + +Jacqueline ran to the door and threw it open. + +"Ride down the valley!" she cried. "That's right. He's coming up, and +he'll meet you on the way. He'll be glad--to see you!" + +She saw the rider swing sharply about, and the clatter of the galloping +hoofs died out up the valley; then she closed the door, dropped the +latch, and, running to the middle of the room, threw up her arms and +cried out, a wild, shrill yell of triumph like the call of the old +Indian brave when he rises with the scalp of his murdered enemy +dripping in his hand. + +The extended arms she caught back to her breast, and stood there with +head tilted back, crushing her delight closer to her heart. + +And she whispered: "Pierre! Mine, mine! Pierre!" + +Next she went to the steel mirror on the wall and looked long at the +flushed, triumphant image. At length she started, like one awakening +from a happy dream, and hurriedly coiled the thick, soft tresses about +her head. Never before had she lingered so over a toilet, patting each +lock into place, twisting her head from side to side like a peacock +admiring its image. + +Now she looked about hungrily for a touch of color and uttered a little +moan of vexation when she saw nothing, till her eyes, piercing through +the gloom of a dim corner, saw a spray of autumn leaves, long left +there and still stained with beauty. She fastened them at the breast +of her shirt, and so arrayed began to cook. + +Never was there a merrier cook, not even some jolly French chef with a +heart made warm with good red wine, for she sang as she worked, and +whenever she had to cross the room it was with a dancing step. Spring +was in her blood, warm spring that loosens the muscles about the heart +and makes the eyes of girls dim and sets men smiling for no cause +except that they are living, and rejoicing with the whole awakening +world. + +So it was with Jacqueline. Ever and anon as she leaned over the pans +and stirred the fire she raised her head and remained a moment +motionless, waiting for a sound, yearning to hear, and each time she +had to look down again with a sigh. + +As it was, he took her by surprise, for he entered with the soft foot +of the hunted and remained an instant searching the room with a careful +glance. Not that he suspected, not that he had not relaxed his guard +and his vigilance the moment he caught sight of the flicker of light +through the mass of great boulders, but the lifelong habit of +watchfulness remained with him. + +Even when he spoke face to face with a man, he never seemed to be +giving more than half his attention, for might not some one else +approach if he lost himself in order to listen to any one voice? He +had covered half the length of the room with that soundless step before +she heard, and rose with a glad cry: "Pierre!" + +Meeting that calm blue eye, she checked herself mightily. + +"A hard ride?" she asked. + +"Nothing much." + +He took the rock nearest the fire and then raised a glance of inquiry. + +"I got cold," she said, "and rolled it over." + +He considered her and then the rock, not with suspicion, but as if he +held the matter in abeyance for further consideration; a hunted man and +a hunter must keep an eye for little things, must carry an armed hand +and an armed heart even among friends. As for Jacqueline, her color +had risen, and she leaned hurriedly over a pan in which meat was frying. + +"Any results?" she asked. + +"Some." + +She waited, knowing that the story would come at length. + +He added after a moment: "Strange how careless some people get to be." + +"Yes?" she queried. + +"Yes." + +Another pause, during which he casually drummed his fingers on his +knee. She saw that he must receive more encouragement before he would +tell, and she gave it, smiling to herself. Women are old in certain +ways of understanding in which men remain children forever. + +"I suppose we're still broke, Pierre?" + +"Broke? Well, not entirely. I got some results." + +"Good." + +"As a matter of fact, it was a pretty fair haul. Watch that meat, +Jack; I think it's burning." + +It was hardly beginning to cook, but she turned it obediently and hid +another slow smile. Rising, she passed behind his chair, and pretended +to busy herself with something near the wall. This was the environment +and attitude which would make him talk most freely, she knew. + +"Speaking of careless men," said Pierre, "I could tell you a yarn, +Jack." + +She stood close behind him and made about his unconscious head a +gesture of caress, the overflow of an infinite tenderness. + +"I'd sure like to hear it, Pierre." + +"Well, it was like this: I knew a fellow who started on the range with +a small stock of cattle. He wasn't a very good worker, and he didn't +understand cattle any too well, so he didn't prosper for quite a while. +Then his affairs took a sudden turn for the better; his herd began to +increase. Nobody understood the reason, though a good many suspected, +but one man fell onto the reason: our friend was simply running in a +few doggies on the side, and he'd arranged a very ingenious way of +changing the brands." + +"Pierre--" + +"Well?" + +"What does 'ingenious' mean?" + +"Why, I should say it means 'skilful, clever,' and it carries with it +the connotation of 'novel.'" + +"It carries the con-conno--what's that word, Pierre?" + +"I'm going to get some books for you, Jack, and we'll do a bit of +reading on the side, shall we?" + +"I'd love that!" + +He turned and looked up to her sharply. + +He said: "Sometimes, Jack, you talk just like a girl." + +"Do I? That's queer, isn't it? But go on with the story." + +"He changed the brands very skilfully, and no one got the dope on him +except this one man I mentioned; and that man kept his face shut. He +waited. + +"So it went on for a good many years. The herd of our friend grew very +rapidly. He sold just enough cattle to keep himself and his wife +alive; he was bent on making one big haul, you see. So when his +doggies got to the right age and condition for the market, he'd trade +them off, one fat doggie for two or three skinny yearlings. But +finally he had a really big herd together, and shipped it off to the +market on a year when the price was sky-high." + +"Like this year?" + +"Don't interrupt me, Jack!" + +From the shadow behind him she smiled again. + +"They went at a corking price, and our friend cleared up a good many +thousand--I won't say just how much. He sank part of it in a ruby +brooch for his wife, and shoved the rest into a satchel. + +"You see how careful he'd been all those years while he was piling up +his fortune? Well, he began to get careless the moment he cashed in, +which was rather odd. He depended on his fighting power to keep that +money safe, but he forgot that while he'd been making a business of +rustling doggies and watching cattle markets, other men had been making +a business of shooting fast and straight. + +"Among others there was the silent man who'd watched and waited for so +long. But this silent man hove alongside while our rich friend was +bound home in a buckboard. + +"'Good evening!' he called. + +"The rich chap turned and heard; it all seemed all right, but he'd done +a good deal of shady business in his day, and that made him suspicious +of the silent man now. So he reached for his gun and got it out just +in time to be shot cleanly through the hand. + +"The silent man tied up that hand and sympathized with the rich chap; +then he took that satchel and divided the paper money into two bundles. +One was twice the size of the other, and the silent man took the +smaller one. There was only twelve thousand dollars in it. Also, he +took the ruby brooch for a friend--and as a sort of keepsake, you know. +And he delivered a short lecture to the rich man on the subject of +carelessness and rode away. The rich man picked up his gun with his +left hand and opened fire, but he'd never learned to shoot very well +with that hand, so the silent man came through safe." + +"That's a bully story," said Jack. "Who was the silent man?" + +"I think you've seen him a few times, at that." + +She concealed another smile, and said in the most businesslike manner: +"Chow-time, Pierre," and set out the pans on the table. + +"By the way," he said easily, "I've got a little present for you, Jack." + +And he took out a gold pin flaming with three great rubies. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +A COUNT TO TEN + +She merely stared, like a child which may either burst into tears or +laughter, no one can prophesy which. + +He explained, rather worried: "You see, you are a girl, Jack, and I +remembered that you were pleased about those clothes that you wore to +the dance in Crittenden Schoolhouse, and so when I saw that pin +I--well--" + +"Oh, Pierre!" said a stifled voice, "Oh, Pierre!" + +"By Jove, Jack, aren't angry, are you? See, when you put it at the +throat it doesn't look half bad!" + +And to try it, he pinned it on her shirt. She caught both his hands, +kissed them again and again, and then buried her face against them as +she sobbed. If the heavens had opened and a cloudburst crashed on the +roof of the house, he would have been less astounded. + +"What is it?" he cried. "Damn it all--Jack--you see--I meant--" + +But she tore herself away and flung herself face down on the bunk, +sobbing more bitterly than ever. He followed, awestricken--terrified. + +He touched her shoulder, but she shrank away and seemed more distressed +than ever. It was not the crying of a weak woman: these were +heart-rending sounds, like the sobbing of a man who has never before +known tears. + +"Jack--perhaps I've done something wrong--" + +He stammered again: "I didn't dream I was hurting you--" + +Then light broke upon him. + +He said: "It's because you don't want to be treated like a silly girl; +eh, Jack?" + +But to complete his astonishment she moaned: "N-n-no! It's b-b-because +you--you n-n-never _do_ t-treat me like a g-g-girl, P-P-Pierre!" + +He groaned heartily: "Well, I'll be damned!" + +And because he was thoughtful he strode away, staring at the floor. It +was then that he saw it, small and crumpled on the floor. He picked it +up--a glove of the softest leather. He carried it back to Jacqueline. + +"What's this?" + +"Wh-wh-what?" + +"This glove I found on the floor?" + +The sobs decreased at once--broke out more violently--and then she +sprang up from the bunk, face suffused, and eyes timidly seeking his +with upward glances. + +"Pierre, I've acted a regular chump. Are you out with me?" + +"Not a bit, old-timer. But about this glove?" + +"Oh, that's one of mine." + +She took it and slipped it into the bosom of her shirt--the calm blue +eye of Pierre noted. + +He said: "We'll eat and forget the rest of this, if you want, Jack." + +"And you ain't mad at me, Pierre?" + +"Not a bit." + +There was just a trace of coldness in his tone, and she knew perfectly +why it was there, but she chose to ascribe it to another cause. + +She explained: "You see, a woman is just about nine-tenths fool, +Pierre, and has to bust out like that once in a while." + +"Oh!" said Pierre, and his eyes wandered past her as though he found +food for thought on the wall. + +She ventured cautiously, after seeing that he was eating with appetite: +"How does the pin look?" + +"Why, fine." + +And the silence began again. + +She dared not question him in that mood, so she ventured again: "The +old boy shooting left-handed--didn't he even fan the wind near you?" + +"That was another bit of carelessness," said Pierre, but his smile held +little of life. "He might have known that if he _had_ shot close--by +accident--I might have turned around and shot him dead--on purpose. +But when a man stops thinking for a minute, he's apt to go on for a +long time making a fool of himself." + +"Right," she said, brightening as she felt the crisis pass away, "and +that reminds me of a story about--" + +"By the way, Jack, I'll wager there's a more interesting story than +that you could tell me." + +"What?" + +"About how that glove happened to be on the floor." + +"Why, partner, it's just a glove of my own." + +"Didn't know you wore gloves with a leather as soft as that." + +"No? Well, that story I was speaking about runs something like this--" + +And she told him a gay narrative, throwing all her spirit into it, for +she was an admirable mimic. He met her spirit more than half-way, +laughing gaily; and so they reached the end of the story and the end of +the meal at the same time. She cleared away the pans with a few +motions and tossed them clattering into a corner. Neat housekeeping +was not numbered among the many virtues of Jacqueline. + +"Now," said Pierre, leaning back against the wall, "we'll hear about +that glove." + +"Damn the glove!" broke from her. + +"Steady, pal!" + +"Pierre, are you going to nag me about a little thing like that?" + +"Why, Jack, you're red and white in patches. I'm interested." + +He sat up. + +"I'm more than interested. The story, Jack." + +"Well, I suppose I have to tell you. I did a fool thing to-day. Took +a little gallop down the trail, and on my way back I met a girl sitting +in her saddle with her face in her hands, crying her heart out. Poor +kid! She'd come up in a hunting party and got separated from the rest. + +"So I got sympathetic--" + +"About the first time on record that you've been sympathetic with +another girl, eh?" + +"Shut up, Pierre! And I brought her in here--right into your cabin, +without thinking what I was doing, and gave her a cup of coffee. Of +course it was a pretty greenhorn trick, but I guess no harm will come +of it. The girl thinks it's a prospector's cabin--which it was once. +She went on her way, happy, because I told her of the right trail to +get back with her gang. That's all there is to it. Are you mad at me +for letting any one come into this place?" + +"Mad?" he smiled. "No, I think that's one of the best lies you ever +told me, Jack." + +Their eyes met, hers very wide, and his keen and steady. The she +gripped at the butt of her gun, an habitual trick when she was very +angry, and cried: + +"Do I have to sit here and let you call me--that? Pierre, pull a few +more tricks like that and I'll call for a new deal. Get me?" + +She rose, whirled, and threw herself sullenly on her bunk. + +"Come back," said Pierre. "You're more scared than angry. Why are you +afraid, Jack?" + +"It's a lie--I'm not afraid!" + +"Let me see that glove again." + +"You've seen it once--that's enough." + +He whistled carelessly, rolling a cigarette. After he lighted it he +said: "Ready to talk yet, partner?" + +She maintained an obstinate silence, but that sharp eye saw that she +was trembling. He set his teeth and then drew several long puffs on +his cigarette. + +"I'm going to count to ten, pal, and when I finish you're going to tell +me everything straight. In the mean time don't stay there thinking up +a new lie. I know you too well, and if you try the same thing on me +again--" + +"Well?" she snarled, all the tiger coming back in her voice. + +"You'll talk, all right. Here goes the count: One--two--three--four--" + +As he counted, leaving a long drag of two or three seconds between +numbers, there was not a change in the figure of the girl. She still +lay with her back turned on him, and the only expressive part that +showed was her hand. First it lay limp against her hip, but as the +monotonous count proceeded it gathered to a fist. + +"Five--six--seven--" + +It seemed that he had been counting for hours, his will against her +will, the man in him against the woman in her, and during the pauses +between the sound of his voice the very air grew charged with waiting. +To the girl the wait for every count was like the wait of the doomed +traitor when he stands facing the firing-squad, watching the glimmer of +light go down the aimed rifles. + +For she knew the face of the man who sat there counting; she knew how +the firelight flared in the dark-red of his hair and made it seem like +another fire beneath which the blue of the eyes was strangely cold and +keen. Her hand had gathered to a hard-balled fist. + +"Eight--nine--" + +She sprang up, screaming: "No, no, Pierre!" + +And threw out her arms to him. + +"Ten." + +She whispered: "It was the girl with yellow hair--Mary Brown." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +TIGER-HEART + +It was as if she had said: "Good morning!" in the calmest of voices. +There was no answer in him, neither word nor expression, and out of ten +sharp-eyed men, nine would have passed him by without noting the +difference; but the girl knew him as the monk knows his prayers or the +Arab his horse, and a solemn, deep despair came over her. She felt +like the drowning, when the water closes over their heads for the last +time. + +He puffed twice again at the cigarette and then flicked the butt into +the fire. When he spoke it was only to say: "Did she stay long?" + +But his eyes avoided her. She moved a little so as to read his face, +but when he turned again and answered her stare she winced. + +"Not very long, Pierre." + +"Ah," he said, "I see! It was because she didn't dream that this was +the place I lived in." + +It was the sort of heartless, torturing questioning which was once the +crudest weapon of the inquisition. With all her heart she fought to +raise her voice above the whisper whose very sound accused her, but +could not. She was condemned to that voice as the man bound in +nightmare is condemned to walk slowly, slowly, though the terrible +danger is racing toward him, and the safety which he must reach lies +only a dozen steps, a dozen mortal steps away. + +She said in that voice: "No; of course she didn't dream it." + +"And you, Jack, had her interests at heart--her best interests, poor +girl, and didn't tell her?" + +Her hands went out to him in mute appeal. + +"Please, Pierre--don't!" + +"Is something troubling you, Jack?" + +"You are breaking my heart." + +"Why, by no means! Let's sit here calmly and chat about the girl with +the yellow hair. To begin with--she's rather pleasant to look at, +don't you think?" + +"I suppose she is." + +"H-m! rather poor taste not to be sure of it. Well, let it go. You've +always had rather queer taste in women, Jack; but, of course, being a +long-rider, you haven't seen much of them. At least her name is +delightful--Mary Brown! You've no idea how often I've repeated it +aloud to myself and relished the sound--Mary Brown!" + +"I hate her!" + +"You two didn't have a very agreeable time of it? By the way, she must +have left in rather a hurry to forget her glove, eh?" + +"Yes, she ran--like a coward." + +"Ah?" + +"Like a trembling coward. How can you care for a white-faced little +fool like that? Is she your match? Is she your mate?" + +He considered a moment, as though to make sure that he did not +exaggerate. + +"I love her, Jack, as men love water when they've ridden all day over +hot sand without a drop on their lips--you know when the tongue gets +thick and the mouth fills with cotton--and then you see clear, bright +water, and taste it." + +"She is like that to me. She feeds every sense; and when I look in her +eyes, Jack, I feel like the starved man on the desert, as I was saying, +drinking that priceless water. You knew something of the way I feel, +Jack. Isn't it a little odd that you didn't keep her here?" + +She had stood literally shuddering during this speech, and now she +burst out, far beyond all control: "Because she loathes you; because +she hates herself for ever having loved you; because she despises +herself for having ridden up here after you. Does that fill your cup +of water, Pierre, eh?" + +His forehead was shining with sweat, but he set his teeth, and, after a +moment, he was able to say in the same hard, calm voice: "I suppose +there was no real reason for her change. She can be persuaded back to +me in a moment. In that case just tell me where she has gone and I'll +ride after her." + +He made as if to rise, but she cried in a panic, and yet with a wild +exultation: "No, she's done with you forever, and the more you make +love to her now the more she'll hate you. Because she knows that when +you kissed her before--when you kissed her--you were living with a +woman." + +"I--living with a woman?" + +Her voice had risen out of the whisper for the outbreak. Now it sank +back into it. + +"Yes--with me!" + +"With you? I see. Naturally it must have gone hard with her--Mary! +And she wouldn't see reason even when you explained that you and I are +like brothers?" + +He leaned a little toward her and just a shade of emotion came in his +voice. + +"When you carefully explained, Jack, with all the eloquence you could +command, that you and I have ridden and fought and camped together like +brothers for six years? And how I gave you your first gun? And how +I've stayed between you and danger a thousand times? And how I've +never treated you otherwise than as a man? And how I've given you the +love of a blood-brother to take the place of the brother who died? And +how I've kept you in a clean and pure respect such as a man can only +give once in his life--and then only to his dearest friend? She +wouldn't listen--even when you talked to her like this?" + +"For God's sake--Pierre!" + +"Ah, but you talked well enough to pave the way for me. You talked so +eloquently that with a little more persuasion from me she will know and +understand. Come, I must be gone after her. Which way did she +ride--up or down the valley?" + +"You could talk to her forever and she'd never listen. Pierre, I told +her that I was--your woman--that you'd told me of your scenes with +her--and that we'd laughed at them together." + +She covered her eyes and crouched, waiting for the wrath that would +fall on her, but he only smiled bitterly on the bowed head, saying: +"Why have I waited so long to hear you say what I knew already? I +suppose because I wouldn't believe until I heard the whole abominable +truth from your own lips. Jack, why did you do it?" + +"Won't you see? Because I've loved you always, Pierre!" + +"Love--you--your tiger-heart? No, but you were like a cruel, selfish +child. You were jealous because you didn't want the toy taken away. I +knew it. I knew that even if I rode after her it would be hopeless. +Oh, God, how terribly you've hurt me, partner!" + +It wrung a little moan from her. He said after a moment: "It's only +the ghost of a chance, but I'll have to take it. Tell me which way she +rode? No? Then I'll try to find her." + +She leaped between him and the door, flinging her shoulders against it +with a crash and standing with outspread arms to bar the way. + +"You must not go!" + +He turned his head somewhat. + +"Don't stand in front of me, Jack. You know I'll do what I say, and +just now it's a bit hard for me to face you." + +"Pierre, I feel as if there were a hand squeezing my heart small, and +small, and small. Pierre, I'd die for you!" + +"I know you would. I know you would, partner. It was only a mistake, +and you acted the way any cold-hearted boy would act if--if some one +were to try to steal his horse, for instance. But just now it's hard +for me to look at you and be calm." + +"Don't try to be! Swear at me--curse--rave--beat me; I'd be glad of +the blows, Pierre. I'd hold out my arms to 'em. But don't go out that +door!" + +"Why?" + +"Because--if you found her--she's not alone." + +"Say that slowly. I don't understand. She's not alone?" + +"I'll try to tell you from the first. She started out for you with +Dick Wilbur for a guide." + +"Good old Dick, God bless him! I'll fill all his pockets with gold for +that; and he loves her, you know." + +"You'll never see Dick Wilbur again. On the first night they camped +she missed him when he went for water. She went down after a while and +saw the mark of his body on the sand. He never appeared again." + +"Who was it?" + +"Listen. The next morning she woke up and found that some one had +taken care of the fire while she slept, and her pack was lashed on one +of the saddles. She rode on that day and came at night to a camp-fire +with a bed of boughs near it and no one in sight. She took that camp +for herself and no one showed up. + +"Don't you see? Some one was following her up the valley and taking +care of the poor baby on the way. Some one who was afraid to let +himself be seen. Perhaps it was the man who killed Dick Wilbur without +a sound there beside the river; perhaps as Dick died he told the man +who killed him about the lonely girl and this other man was white +enough to help Mary. + +"But all Mary ever saw of him was that second night when she thought +that she saw a streak of white, traveling like a galloping horse, that +disappeared over a hill and into the trees--" + +"A streak of white--" + +"Yes, yes! The white horse--McGurk!" + +"McGurk!" repeated Pierre stupidly; then: "And you knew she would be +going out to him when she left this house?" + +"I knew--Pierre--don't look at me like that--I knew that it would be +murder to let you cross with McGurk. You're the last of seven--he's a +devil--no man--" + +"And you let her go out into the night--to him." + +She clung to a last thread of hope: "If you met him and killed him with +the luck of the cross it would bring equal bad luck on some one you +love--on the girl, Pierre!" + +He was merely repeating stupidly: "You let her go out--to him--in the +night! She's in his arms now--you devil--you tiger--" + +She threw herself down and clung about his knees with hysterical +strength. + +"Pierre, you shall not go. Pierre, you walk on my heart if you go!" + +He tore the little cross from his neck and flung it into her upturned +face. + +"Don't make me put my hands on you, Jack. Let me go!" + +There was no need to tear her grasp away. She crumpled and slipped +sidewise to the floor. He leaned over and shook her violently by the +shoulder. + +"Which way did she ride? Which way did they ride?" + +She whispered: "Down the valley, Pierre; down the valley; I swear they +rode that way." + +And as she lay in a half swoon she heard the faint clatter of galloping +hoofs over the rooks and a wild voice yelling, fainter and fainter with +distance: + +"McGurk!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +JACK HEARS A SMALL VOICE + +It came back to her like a threat; it beat at her ears and roused her, +that continually diminishing cry: "McGurk!" It went down the valley, +and Mary Brown, and McGurk with her, perhaps, had gone up the gorge, +but it would be a matter of a short time before Pierre le Rouge +discovered that there was no camp-fire to be sighted in the lower +valley and whirled to storm back up the cańon with that battle-cry: +"McGurk!" still on his lips. + +And if the two met she knew the result. Seven strong men had ridden +together, fought together, and one by one they had fallen, disappeared +like the white smoke of the camp-fire, jerked off into thin air by the +wind, until only one remained. + +How clearly she could see them all! Bud Mansie, meager, lean, with a +shifting eye; Garry Patterson, of the red, good-natured face; Phil +Branch, stolid and short and muscled like a giant; Handsome Dick Wilbur +on his racing bay; Black Gandil, with his villainies from the South +Seas like an invisible mantle of awe about him; and her father, the +stalwart, gray Boone. + +All these had gone, and there remained only Pierre le Rouge to follow +in the steps of the six who had gone before. + +She crawled to the door, feeble in mind and shuddering of body like a +runner who has spent his last energy in a long race, and drew it open. +The wind blew up the valley from the Old Crow, but no sound came back +to her, no calling from Pierre; and over her rose the black pyramid of +the western peak of the Twin Bears like a monstrous nose pointing +stiffly toward the stars. + +She closed the door, dragged herself back to her feet, and stood with +her shoulders leaning against the wall. Her weakness was not +weariness--it was as if something had been taken from her. She +wondered at herself somewhat vaguely. Surely she had never been like +this before, with the singular coldness about her heart and the feeling +of loss, of infinite loss. + +What had she lost? She began to search her mind for an answer. Then +she smiled uncertainly, a wan, small smile. It was very clear; what +she had lost was all interest in life and all hope for the brave +to-morrow. Nothing remained of all those lovely dreams which she had +built up by day and night about the figure of Pierre le Rouge. He was +gone, and the bright-colored bubble she had blown vanished at once. + +She felt a slight pain at her forehead and then remembered the cross +which Pierre had thrown into her face. Casting that away he had thrown +his faintest chance of victory with it; it would be a slaughter, not a +battle, and red-handed McGurk would leave one more foe behind him. + +But looking down she found the cross and picked up the shining bit of +metal; it seemed as if she held the greater part of Pierre le Rouge in +her hands. She raised the cross to her lips. + +When she fastened the cross about her throat it was with no exultation, +but like one who places over his heart a last memorial of the dead; a +consecration, like the red sign or the white which the crusaders wore +on the covers of their shields. + +Then she took from her breast the spray of autumn leaves. He had not +noticed them, yet perhaps they had helped to make him gay when he came +into the cabin that night, so she placed the spray on the table. Next +she unpinned the great rubies from her throat and let her eye linger +over them for a moment. They were chosen stones, each as deeply +lighted as an eye, if there ever were eyes of this blood-red, and they +looked up at her with a lure and a challenge at once. + +The first thought of what she must do came to Jacqueline then, but not +in an overwhelming tide--it was rather a small voice that whispered in +her heart. + +Last, she took from her bosom the glove of the yellow-haired girl. +Compared with her stanch riding gloves, how small was this! Yet, when +she tried it, it slipped easily on her hand. This she laid in that +little pile, for these were the things which Pierre would wish to find +if by some miracle he came back from the battle. The spray, perhaps, +he would not understand; and yet he might. She pressed both hands to +her breast and drew a long breath, for her heart was breaking. Through +her misted eyes she could barely see the shimmer of the cross. + +That sight made her look up, searching for a superhuman aid in her woe, +and for the first time in her life a conception of God dawned on her +wild, gay mind. She made a picture of him like a vast cloud looming +over the Twin Bear peaks and breathing an infinite calm over the +mountains. The cloud took a faintly human shape--a shape somewhat like +that of her father when he lived, for he could be both stern and +gentle, as she well knew, and such gray Boone had been. + +Perhaps it was because of this that another picture came out of her +infancy of a soft voice, of a tender-touching hand, of brooding, +infinitely loving eyes. She smiled the wan smile again because for the +first time it came to her that she, too, even she, the wild, the +"tiger-heart," as Pierre himself had called her, might one day have +been the mother of a child, his child. + +But the ache within her grew so keen that she dropped, writhing, to her +knees, and twisted her hands together in agony. It was prayer. There +were no words to it, but it was prayer, a wild appeal for aid. + +That aid came in the form of a calm that swept on her like the flood of +a clear moonlight over a storm-beaten landscape. The whisper which had +come to her before was now a solemn-speaking voice, and she knew what +she must do. She could not keep the two men apart, but she might reach +McGurk before and strike him down by stealth, by craft, any way to kill +that man as terrible as a devil, as invulnerable as a ghost. + +This she might do in the heart of the night, and afterward she might +have the courage left to tell the girl the truth and then creep off +somewhere and let this steady pain burn its way out of her heart. + +Once she had reached a decision, it was characteristic that she moved +swiftly. Also, there was cause for haste, for by this time Pierre must +have discovered that there was no one in the lower reaches of the gorge +and would be galloping back with all the speed of the cream-colored +mare which even McGurk's white horse could not match. + +She ran from the cabin and into the little lean-to behind it where the +horses were tethered. There she swung her saddle with expert hands, +whipped up the cinch, and pulled it with the strength of a man, +mounted, and was off up the gorge. + +For the first few minutes she let the long-limbed black race on at full +speed, a breathless course, because the beat of the wind in her face +raised her courage, gave her a certain impulse which was almost +happiness, just as the martyrs rejoiced and held out their hands to the +fire that was to consume them; but after the first burst of headlong +galloping, she drew down the speed to a hand-canter, and this in turn +to a fast trot, for she dared not risk the far-echoed sound of the +clattering hoofs over the rock. + +And as she rode she saw at last the winking eye of red which she longed +for and dreaded. She pulled her black to an instant halt and swung +from the saddle, tossing the reins over the head of the horse to keep +him standing there. + +Yet, after she had made half a dozen hurried paces something forced her +to turn and look again at the handsome head of the horse. He stood +quite motionless, with his ears pricking after her, and now as she +stopped he whinnied softly, hardly louder than the whisper of a man. +So she ran back again and threw the reins over the horn of the saddle; +he should be free to wander where he chose through the free mountains, +but as for her, she knew very certainly now that she would never mount +that saddle again, or control that triumphant steed with the touch of +her hands on the reins. She put her arms around his neck and drew his +head down close. + +There was a dignity in that parting, for it was the burning of her +bridges behind her. When "King-Maker" Richard of Warwick, betrayed and +beaten on the field, came to his last stand by the forest, he +dismounted and stabbed his favorite charger. Very different was this +wild mountain girl from the armored earl who put kings up and pulled +them down again at pleasure, but her heart swelled as great as the +heart of famous Warwick; he gave up a kingdom, and she gave up her love. + +When she drew back the horse followed her a pace, but she raised a +silent hand in the night and halted him; a moment later she was lost +among the boulders. + +It was rather slow work to stalk that camp-fire, for the big boulders +cut off the sight of the red eye time and again, and she had to make +little, cautious detours before she found it again, but she kept +steadily at her work. Once she stopped, her blood running cold, for +she thought that she heard a faint voice blown up the cańon on the +wind: "McGurk!" + +For half a minute she stood frozen, listening, but the sound was not +repeated, and she went on again with greater haste. So she came at +last in view of a hollow in the side of the gorge. Here there were a +few trees, growing in the cove, and here, she knew, there was a small +spring of clear water. Many a time she had made a cup of her hands and +drunk here. + +Now she made out the fire clearly, the trees throwing out great spokes +of shadow on all sides, spokes of shadows that wavered and shook with +the flare of the small fire beyond them. She dropped to her hands and +knees and, parting the dense underbrush, began the last stealthy +approach. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +A VOICE IN THE NIGHT + +Up the same course which Jacqueline followed, Mary Brown had fled +earlier that night with the triumphant laughter of Jack still ringing +in her ears and following her like a remorseless, pointed hand of shame. + +There is no power like shame to disarm the spirit. A dog will fight if +a man laughs at him; a coward will challenge the devil himself if he is +whipped on by scorn; and this proud girl shrank and moaned on the +saddle. She had not progressed far enough to hate Pierre. That would +come later, but now all her heart had room for was a consuming loathing +of herself. + +Some of that torture went into the spurs with which she punished the +side of the bay, and the tall horse responded with a high-tossed head +and a burst of whirlwind speed. The result was finally a stumble over +a loose rock that almost flung Mary over the pommel of the saddle and +forced her to draw rein. + +Having slowed the pace she became aware that she was very tired from +the trip of the day, and utterly exhausted by the wild scene with +Jacqueline, so that she began to look about for a place where she could +stop for even an hour or so and rest her aching body. + +Thought of McGurk sent her hand trembling to her holster. Still she +knew she must have little to fear from him. He had been kind to her. +Why had this scourge of the mountain-desert spared her? Was it to +track down Pierre? + +It was at this time that she heard the purl and whisper of running +water, a sound dear to the hearts of all travelers. She veered to the +left and found the little grove of trees with a thick shrubbery growing +between, fed by the water of that diminutive brook. She dismounted and +tethered the horses. + +By this time she had seen enough of camping out to know how to make +herself fairly comfortable, and she set about it methodically, eagerly. +It was something to occupy her mind and keep out a little of that +burning sense of shame. One picture it could not obliterate, and that +was the scene of Jacqueline and Pierre le Rouge laughing together over +the love affair with the silly girl of the yellow hair. + +That was the meaning, then, of those silences that had come between +them? He had been thinking, remembering, careful lest he should forget +a single scruple of the whole ludicrous affair. She shuddered, +remembering how she had fairly flung herself into his arms. + +On that she brooded, after starting the little fire. It was not that +she was cold, but the fire, at least, in the heart of the black night, +was a friend incapable of human treachery. She had not been there long +when the tall bay, Wilbur's horse, stiffened, raised his head, arched +his tail, and then whinnied. + +She started to her feet, stirred by a thousand fears, and heard, far +away, an answering neigh. At once all thought of shame and of Pierre +le Rouge vanished from her mind, for she remembered the man who had +followed her up the valley of the Old Crow. Perhaps he was coming now +out of the night; perhaps she would even see him. + +And the excitement grew in her pulse by pulse, as the excitement grows +in a man waiting for a friend at a station; he sees first the faint +smoke like a cloud on the skyline, and then a black speck beneath the +smoke, and next the engine draws up on him with a humming of the rails +which grows at length to a thunder. + +All the while his heart beats faster and faster and rocks with the sway +of the approaching engine; so the heart of Mary Brown beat, though she +could not see, but only felt the coming of the stranger. + +The only sign she saw was in the horses, which showed an increasing +uneasiness. Her own mare now shared the restlessness of the tall bay, +and the two were footing it nervously here and there, tugging at the +tethers, and tossing up their heads, with many a start, as if they +feared and sought to flee from some approaching catastrophe--some vast +and preternatural change--some forest fire which came galloping faster +than even their fleet limbs could carry them. + +Yet all beyond the pale of her campfire's light was silence, utter and +complete silence. It seemed as if a veritable muscular energy went +into the intensity of her listening, but not a sound reached her except +a faint whispering of the wind in the dark trees above her. + +But at last she knew that the thing was upon her. The horses ceased +their prancing and stared in a fixed direction through the thicket of +shrubbery; the very wind grew hushed above her; she could feel the new +presence as one feels the silence when a door closes and shuts away the +sound of the street below. + +It came on her with a shock, thrilling, terrible, yet not altogether +unpleasant. She rose, her hands clenched at her sides and the great +blue eyes abnormally wide as they stared in the same direction as the +eyes of the two horses held. Yet for all her preparation she nearly +fainted and a blackness came across her mind when a voice sounded +directly behind her, a pleasantly modulated voice: "Look this way. I +am here, in front of the fire." + +She turned about and the two horses, quivering, whirled toward that +sound. + +She stepped back, back until the embers of the fire lay between her and +that side of the little clearing. In spite of herself the exclamation +escaped her.--"McGurk!" + +The voice spoke again: "Do not be afraid. You are safe, absolutely." + +"What are you?" + +"Your friend." + +"Is it you who followed me up the valley?" + +"Yes." + +"Come into the light. I must see you." A faint laughter reached her +from the dark. + +"I cannot let you do that. If that had been possible I should have +come to you before." + +"But I feel--I feel almost, as if you are a ghost and no man of flesh +and blood." + +"It is better for you to feel that way about it," said the voice +solemnly, "than to know me." + +"At least, tell me why you have followed me, why you have cared for me." + +"You will hate me if I tell you, and fear me." + +"No, whatever you are, trust me. Tell me at least what came to Dick +Wilbur?" + +"That's easy enough. I met him at the river, a little by surprise, and +caught him before he could even shout. Then I took his guns and let +him go." + +"But he didn't come back to me?" + +"No. He knew that I would be there. I might have finished him without +giving him a chance to speak, girl, but I'd seen him with you and I was +curious. So I found out where you were going and why, and let Wilbur +go. I came back and looked at you and found you asleep." + +She grew cold at the thought of him leaning over her. + +"I watched you a long time, and I suppose I'll remember you always as I +saw you then. You were very beautiful with the shadow of the lashes +against your cheek--almost as beautiful as you are now as you stand +over there, fearing and loathing me. I dared not let you see me, but I +decided to take care of you--for a while." + +"And now?" + +"I have come to say farewell to you." + +"Let me see you once before you go." + +"No! You see, I fear you even more than you fear me." + +"Then I'll follow you." + +"It would be useless--utterly useless. There are ways of becoming +invisible in the mountains. But before I go, tell me one thing: Have +you left the cabin to search for Pierre le Rouge in another place?" + +"No. I do not search for him." + +There was an instant of pause. Then the voice said sharply: "Did +Wilbur lie to me?" + +"No. I started up the valley to find him." + +"But you've given him up?" + +"I hate him--I hate him as much as I loathe myself for ever +condescending to follow him." + +She heard a quick breath drawn in the dark, and then a murmur; "I am +free, then, to hunt him down!" + +"Why?" + +"Listen: I had given him up for your sake; I gave him up when I stood +beside you that first night and watched you trembling with the cold in +your sleep. It was a weak thing for me to do, but since I saw you, +Mary, I am not as strong as I once was." + +"Now you go back on his trail? It is death for Pierre?" + +"You say you hate him?" + +"Ah, but as deeply as that?" she questioned herself. + +"It may not be death for Pierre. I have ridden the ranges many years +and met them all in time, but never one like him. Listen: six years +ago I met him first and then he wounded me--the first time any man has +touched me. And afterward I was afraid, Mary, for the first time in my +life, for the charm was broken. For six years I could not return, but +now I am at his heels. Six are gone; he will be the last to go." + +"What are you?" she cried. "Some bloodhound reincarnated?" + +He said: "That is the mildest name I have ever been called." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +A MAN'S DEATH + +"Give up the trail of Pierre." + +And there, brought face to face with the mortal question, even her fear +burned low in her, and once more she remembered the youth who would not +leave her in the snow, but held her in his arms with the strange cross +above them. + +She said simply: "I still love him." + +A faint glimmer came to her through the dark and she could see deeper +into the shrubbery, for now the moon stood up on the top of the great +peak above them and flung a faint radiance into the hollow. That +glimmer she saw, but no face of a man. + +And then the silence held; every second of it was more than a hundred +spoken words. + +Then the calm voice said: "I cannot give him up." + +"For the sake of God!" + +"God and I have been strangers for a good many years." + +"For my sake." + +"But you see, I have been lying to myself. I told myself that I was +coming merely to see you once--for the last time. But after I saw you +I had to speak, and now that I have spoken it is hard to leave you, and +now that I am with you I cannot give you up to Pierre le Rouge." + +She cried: "What will you have of me?" + +He answered with a ring of melancholy: "Friendship? No, I can't take +those white hands--mine are so red. All I can do is to lurk about you +like a shadow--a shadow with a sting that strikes down all other men +who come near you." + +She said: "For all men have told me about you, I know you could not do +that." + +"Mary, I tell you there are things about me, and possibilities, about +which I don't dare to question myself." + +"You have guarded me like a brother. Be one to me still; I have never +needed one so deeply!" + +"A brother? Mary, if your eyes were less blue or your hair less golden +I might be; but you are too beautiful to be only that to me." + +"Listen to me--" + +But she stopped in the midst of her speech, because a white head loomed +beside the dim form. It was the head of a horse, with pricking ears, +which now nosed the shoulder of its master, and she saw the firelight +glimmering in the great eyes. + +"Your horse," she said in a trembling voice, "loves you and trusts you." + +"It is the only thing which has not feared me. When it was a colt it +came out of the herd and nosed my hand. It is the only thing which has +not fought me, as all men have done--as you are doing now, Mary." + +The wind that blew up the gorge came in gusts, not any steady current, +but fitful rushes of air, and on one of these brief blasts it seemed to +Mary that she caught the sound of a voice blown to whistling murmur. +It was a vague thing of which she could not be sure, as faint as a +thought. Yet the head of the white horse disappeared, and the glimmer +of the man's face went out. + +She called: "Whatever you are, wait! Let me speak!" + +But no answer came, and she knew that the form was gone forever. + +She cried again: "Who's there?" + +"It is I," said a voice at her elbow, and she turned to look into the +dark eyes of Jacqueline. + +"So he's gone?" asked Jack bitterly. + +She fingered the butt of her gun. + +"I thought--well, my chance at him is gone." + +"But what--" + +"Bah, if you knew you'd die of fear. Listen to what I have to say. +All the things I told you in the cabin were lies." + +"Lies?" said Mary evenly. "No, they proved themselves." + +"Be still till I've finished, because if you talk you may make me +forget--" + +The gesture which finished the sentence was so eloquent of hate that +Mary shrank away and put the embers of the fire between them. + +"I tell you, it was all a lie, and Pierre le Rouge has never loved +anything but you, you milk-faced, yellow-livered--" + +She stopped again, fighting against her passion. + +The pride of Mary held her stiff and straight, though her voice shook. + +"Has he sent you after me with mockery?" + +"No, he's given up the hope of you." + +"The hope?" + +"Don't you see? Are you going to make me crawl to explain? It always +seemed to me that God meant Pierre for me. It always seemed to me that +a girl like me was what he needed. But Pierre had never seen it. +Maybe, if my hair was yellow an' my eyes blue, he might have felt +different; but the way it is, he's always treated me like a kid +brother--" + +"And lived with you?" said the other sternly. + +"Like two men! D'you understand how a woman could be the bunky of a +man an' yet be no more to him than--than a man would be. You don't? +Neither do I, but that's what I've been to Pierre le Rouge. What's +that?" + +She lifted her head and stood poised as if for flight. Once more the +vague sound blew up to them upon the wind. Mary ran to her and grasped +both of her hands in her own. + +"If it's true--" + +But Jack snatched her hands away and looked on the other with a mighty +hatred and a mightier contempt. + +"True? Why, it damn near finishes Pierre with me to think he'd take up +with--a thing like you. But it's true. If somebody else had told me +I'd of laughed at 'em. But it's true. Tell me: what'll you do with +him?" + +"Take him back--if I can reach him--take him back to the East and to +God's country." + +"Yes--maybe he'd be happy there. But when the spring comes to the +city, Mary, wait till the wind blows in the night and the rain comes +tappin' on the roof. Then hold him if you can. D'ye hear? Hold him +if you can!" + +"If he cares it will not be hard. Tell me again, if--" + +"Shut up. What's that again?" + +The sound was closer now and unmistakably something other than the moan +of the wind. Jacqueline turned in great excitement to Mary: + +"Did McGurk hear that sound down the gorge?" + +"Yes. I think so. And then he--" + +"My God!" + +"What is it?" + +"Pierre, and he's calling for--d'you hear?" + +Clear and loud, though from a great distance, the wind carried up the +sound and the echo preserved it: "McGurk!" + +"McGurk!" repeated Mary. + +"Yes! And you brought him up here with you, and brought his death to +Pierre. What'll you do to save him now? Pierre!" + +She turned and fled out among the trees, and after her ran Mary, +calling, like the other: "Pierre!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +THE WAITING + +After that call first reached him, clear to his ears though vague as a +murmur at the ear of Mary, McGurk swung to the saddle of his white +horse, and galloped down the gorge like a veritable angel of death. + +The end was very near, he felt, yet the chances were at least ten to +one that he would miss Pierre in the throat of the gorge, for among the +great boulders, tall as houses, which littered it, a thousand men might +have passed and repassed and never seen each other. Only the calling +of Pierre could guide him surely. + +The calling had ceased for some moments, and he began to fear that he +had overrun his mark and missed Pierre in the heart of the pass, when, +as he rounded a mighty boulder, the shout ran ringing in his very ears: +"McGurk!" and a horseman swung into view. + +"Here!" he called in answer, and stood with his right hand lifted, +bringing his horse to a sharp halt, like some ancient cavalier stopping +in the middle of the battle to exchange greetings with a friendly foe. + +The other rider whirled alongside, his sombrero's brim flaring back +from his forehead, so that McGurk caught the glare of the eyes beneath +the shadow. + +"So for the third time, my friend--" said McGurk. + +"Which is the fatal one," answered Pierre. "How will you die, McGurk? +On foot or on horseback?" + +"On the ground, Pierre, for my horse might stir and make my work messy. +I love a neat job, you know." + +"Good." + +They swung from the saddles and stood facing each other. + +"Begin!" commanded McGurk. "I've no time to waste." + +"I've very little time to look at the living McGurk. Let me look my +fill before the end." + +"Then look, and be done. I've a lady coming to meet me." + +The other grew marvelously calm. + +"She is with you, McGurk?" + +"My dear Pierre, I've been with her ever since she started up the Old +Crow." + +"It will be easier to forget her. Are you ready?" + +"So soon? Come, man, there's much for us to say. Many old times to +chat over." + +"I only wonder," said Pierre, "how one death can pay back what you've +done. Think of it! I've actually run away from you and hidden myself +away among the hills. I've feared you, McGurk!" + +He said it with a deep astonishment, as a grown man will speak of the +way he feared darkness when he was a child. McGurk moistened his white +lips. The white horse pawed the rocks as though impatient to be gone. + +"Listen," said Pierre, "your horse grows restive. Suppose we stand +here--it's a convenient distance apart, you see, and wait with our arms +folded for the next time the white horse paws the rocks, because when I +kill you, McGurk, I want you to die knowing that another man was faster +on the draw and straighter with his bullets than you are. D'you see?" + +He could not have spoken with a more formal politeness if he had been +asking the other to pass first through the door of a dining-room. The +wonder of McGurk grew and the sweat on his forehead seemed to be +spreading a chill through his entire body. + +He said: "I see. You trust all to the cross, eh, Pierre? The little +cross under your neck?" + +"The cross is gone," said Pierre le Rouge. "Why should I use it +against a night rider, McGurk? Are you ready?" + +And McGurk, not trusting his voice for some strange reason, nodded. +The two folded their arms. + +But the white horse which had been pawing the stones so eagerly a +moment before was now unusually quiet. The very postures of the men +seemed to have frozen him to stone, a beautiful, marble statue, with +the moonlight glistening on the muscles of his perfect shoulders. + +At length he stirred. At once a quiver jerked through the tense bodies +of the waiting men, but the white horse had merely stiffened and raised +his head high. Now, with arched neck and flaunting tail he neighed +loudly, as if he asked a question. How could he know, dumb brute, that +what he asked only death could answer? + +And as they waited an itching came at the palm of McGurk's hand. It +was not much, just a tingle of the blood. To ease it, he closed his +fingers and found that his hand was moist with cold perspiration. + +He began to wonder if his fingers would be slippery on the butt of the +gun. Then he tried covertly to dry them against his shirt. But he +ceased this again, knowing that he must be of hair-trigger alertness to +watch for the stamp of the white horse. + +It occurred to him, also, that he was standing on a loose stone which +might wabble when he pulled his gun, and he cursed himself silently for +his hasty folly. Pierre, doubtless, had noticed that stone, and +therefore he had made the suggestion that they stand where they were. +Otherwise, how could there be that singular calm in the steady eyes +which looked across at him? + +Also, how explain the hunger of that stare? Was not he McGurk, and was +not this a man whom he had already once shot down? God, what a fool he +had been not to linger an instant longer in that saloon in the old days +and place the final shot in the prostrate body! In all his life he had +made only one such mistake, and now that folly was pursuing him. And +now-- + +The foot of the white horse lifted--struck the rock. The sound of its +fall was lost in the explosion of two guns, and a ring of metal on +metal. The revolver snapped from the hand of McGurk, whirled in a +flashing circle, and clanged on the rocks at his feet. The bullet of +Pierre had struck the barrel and knocked it cleanly from his hand. + +It was luck, only luck, that placed that shot, and his own bullet, +which had started first, had travelled wild for there stood Pierre le +Rouge, smiling faintly, alert, calm. For the first time in his life +McGurk had missed. He set his teeth and waited for death. + +But that steady voice of Pierre said: "To shoot you would be a +pleasure; it would even be a luxury, but there wouldn't be any lasting +satisfaction in it. So there lies your gun at your feet. Well, here +lies mine." + +He dropped his own weapon to a position corresponding with that of +McGurk's. + +"We were both very wild that time. We must do better now. We'll stoop +for our guns, McGurk. The signal? No, we won't wait for the horse to +stamp. The signal will be when you stoop for your gun. You shall have +every advantage, you see? Start for that gun, McGurk, when you're +ready for the end." + +The hand of McGurk stretched out and his arm stiffened but it seemed as +though all the muscles of his back had grown stiff. He could not bend. +It was strange. It was both ludicrous and incomprehensible. Perhaps +he had grown stiff with cold in that position. + +But he heard the voice of Pierre explaining gently: "You can't move, my +friend. I understand. It's fear that stiffened your back. It's fear +that sends the chill up and down your blood. It's fear that makes you +think back to your murders, one by one. McGurk, you're done for. +You're through. You're ready for the discard. I'm not going to kill +you. I've thought of a finer hell than death, and that is to live as +you shall live. I've beaten you, McGurk, beaten you fairly on the +draw, and I've broken your heart by doing it. The next time you face a +man you'll begin to think--you'll begin to remember how one other man +beat you at the draw. And that wonder, McGurk, will make your hand +freeze to your side, as you've made the hands of other men before me +freeze. D'you understand?" + +The lips of McGurk parted. The whisper of his dry panting reached +Pierre, and the devil in him smiled. + +"In six weeks, McGurk, you'll take water from a Chinaman. Now get out!" + +And pace by pace McGurk drew back, with his face still toward Pierre. + +The latter cried: "Wait. Are you going to leave your gun?" + +Only the steady retreat continued. + +"And go unarmed through the mountains? What will men say when they see +McGurk with an empty holster?" + +But the outlaw had passed out of view beyond the corner of one of the +monster boulders. After him went the white horse, slowly, picking his +steps, as if he were treading on dangerous and unknown ground and would +not trust his leader. Pierre was left to the loneliness of the gorge. + +The moonlight only served to make more visible its rocky nakedness, and +like that nakedness was the life of Pierre under his hopeless inward +eye. Over him loomed from either side the gleaming pinnacles of the +Twin Bears, and he remembered many a time when he had looked up toward +them from the crests of lesser mountains--looked up toward them as a +man looks to a great and unattainable ideal. + +Here he was come to the crest of all the ranges; here he was come to +the height and limit of his life, and what had he attained? Only a +cruel, cold isolation. It had been a steep ascent; the declivity of +the farther side led him down to a steep and certain ruin and the dark +night below. But he stiffened suddenly and threw his head high as if +he faced his fate; and behind him the cream-colored mare raised her +head with a toss and whinnied softly. + +It seemed to him that he had heard something calling, for the sound was +lost against the sweep of wind coming up the gorge. Something calling +there in the night of the mountains as he himself had called when he +rode so wildly in the quest for McGurk. How long ago had that been? + +But it came once more, clear beyond all doubt. He recognized the voice +in spite of the panting which shook it; a wild wail like that of a +heart-broken child, coming closer to him like some one, running: +"Pierre! Oh, Pierre!" + +And all at once he knew that the moon was broad and bright and fair, +and the heavens clear and shining with golden points of light. Once +more the cry. He raised his arms and waited. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +THE CROSS GOES ON + +So Mary, running through the wilderness of boulders, was guided +straight and found Pierre, and before the morning came, they were +journeying east side by side, east and down to the cities of culture +and a new life; but Jacqueline, a thousand times quicker of foot and +surer of eye and ear, missed her goal, went past it, and still on and +on, running finally at a steady trot. + +Until at last she knew that she had far overstepped her mark and sank +down against one of the rocks to rest and think out what next she must +do. There seemed nothing left. Even the sound of a gun fired she +might not hear, for that sharp call would not travel far against the +wind. + +It was while she sat there, burying Pierre in her thoughts, a white +shape came glimmering down to her through the moonlight. She was on +her feet at once, alert and gun in hand. It could only be one horse, +only one rider, McGurk coming down from his last killing with the sneer +on his pale lips. Well, he would complete his work this night and kill +her fighting face to face. + +A man's death; that was all she craved. She rose; she stepped boldly +out into the center of the trail between the rocks. + +There she saw the greatest wonder she had ever looked on. It was +McGurk walking with bare, bowed head, and after him, like a dog after +the master, followed the white horse. She shoved the revolver back +into the holster. This should be a fair fight. + +"McGurk!" + +Very slowly the head went up and back, and there he stood, not ten +paces from her, with the white moon full on his face. The sneer was +still there; the eyelid fluttered in scornful derision. And the heart +of Jacqueline came thundering in her throat. + +But she cried in a strong voice: "McGurk, d'you know me?" + +He did not answer. + +"You murderer, you night-rider! Look again: it's the last of the +Boones!" + +The sneer, it seemed to her, grew bitterer, but still the man did not +speak. Then the thought of Pierre, lying dead somewhere among the +rocks, burned across her mind. Her hand leaped for the revolver, and +whipped it out in a blinding flash to cover him, but with her finger +curling on the trigger she checked herself in the nick of time. McGurk +had made no move to protect himself. + +A strange feeling came to her that perhaps the man would not war +against women; the case of Mary was almost proof enough of that. But +as she stepped forward, wondering, she looked at the holster at his +side and saw that it was empty. Then she understood. + +Understood in a daze that Pierre had met the man and conquered him and +sent him out through the mountains disarmed. The white horse raised +his head and whinnied, and the sound gave a thought to her. She could +not kill this man, unarmed as he was; she could do a more shameful +thing. + +"The bluff you ran was a strong one, McGurk," she said bitterly, "and +you had these parts pretty well at a standstill; but Pierre was a bit +too much for you, eh?" + +The white face had not altered, and still it did not change, but the +sneer was turned steadily on her. + +She cried: "Go on! Go on down the gorge!" + +Like an automaton the man stepped forward, and after him paced the +white horse. She stepped between, caught the reins, and swung up to +the saddle, and sat there, controlling between her stirrups the +best-known mount in all the mountain-desert. A thrill of wild +exultation came to her. She cried: "Look back, McGurk! Your gun is +gone, your horse is gone; you're weaker than a woman in the mountains!" + +Yet he went on without turning, not with the hurried step of a coward, +but still as one stunned. Then, sitting quietly in the saddle, she +forgot McGurk and remembered Pierre. He was happy by this time with +the girl of the yellow hair; there was nothing remaining to her from +him except the ominous cross which touched cold against her breast. +That he had abandoned as he had abandoned her. + +What, then, was left for her? The horse of an outlaw for her to ride; +the heart of an outlaw in her breast. + +She touched the white horse with the spurs and went at a reckless +gallop, weaving back and forth among the boulders down the gorge. For +she was riding away from the past. + +The dawn came as she trotted out into a widening valley of the Old +Crow. To maintain even that pace she had to use the spurs continually, +for the white horse was deadly weary, and his head fell more and more. +She decided to make a brief halt, at last, and in order to make a fire +that would take the chill of the cold morning from her, she swung up to +the edge of the woods. There, before she could dismount, she saw a man +turn the shoulder of the slope. She drew the horse back deeper among +the trees and waited. + +He came with a halting step, reeling now and again, a big man, hatless, +coatless, apparently at the last verge of exhaustion. Now his foot +apparently struck a small rock, and he pitched to his face. It +required a long struggle before he could regain his feet; and now he +continued his journey at the same gait, only more uncertainly than +ever, close and closer. There was something familiar now about the +fellow's size, and something in the turn of his head. Suddenly she +rode out, crying: "Wilbur!" + +He swerved, saw the white horse, threw up his hands high above his +head, and went backward, reeling, with a hoarse scream which Jacqueline +would never forget. She galloped to him and swung to the ground. + +"It's me--Jack. D'you hear?" + +He would not lower those arms, and his eyes stared wildly at her. On +his forehead the blood had caked over a cut; his shirt was torn to +rags, and the hair matted wildly over his eyes. She caught his hands +and pulled them down. + +"It's not McGurk! Don't you hear me? It's Jack!" + +He reached out, like a blind man who has to see by the sense of touch, +and stroked her face. + +"Jack!" he whispered at last. "Thank God!" + +"What's happened?" + +"McGurk--" + +A violent palsy shook him, and he could not go on. + +"I know--I understand. He took your guns and left you to wander in +this hell! Damn him! I wish--" + +She stopped. + +"How long since you've eaten?" + +"Years!" + +"We'll eat--McGurk's food!" + +But she had to assist him up the slope to the trees, and there she left +him propped against a trunk, his arms fallen weakly at his sides, while +she built the fire and cooked the food. Afterward she could hardly +eat, watching him devour what she placed before him; and it thrilled +all the woman in her to a strange warmth to take care of the +long-rider. Then, except for the disfigured face and the bloodshot +eyes, he was himself. + +"Up there? What happened?" + +He pointed up the valley. + +"The girl and Pierre. They're together." + +"She found him?" + +"Yes." + +He bowed his head and sighed. + +"And the horse, Jack?" He said it with awe. + +"I took the horse from McGurk." + +"You!" + +She nodded. After all, it was not a lie. + +"You killed McGurk?" + +She said coolly: "I let him go the way he let you, Dick. He's on foot +in the mountains without a horse or a gun." + +"It isn't possible!" + +"There the horse for proof." + +He looked at her as if she were something more than human. + +"Our Jack--did this?" + +"We've got to start on. Can you walk, Dick?" + +"A thousand miles now." + +Yet he staggered when he tried to rise, and she made him climb up to +the saddle. The white horse walked on, and she kept her place close at +the stirrup of the rider. He would have stopped and dismounted for her +a hundred times, but she made him keep his place. + +"What's ahead of us, Jack? We're the last of the gang?" + +"The last of Boone's gang. We are." + +"The old life over again?" + +"What else?" + +"Yes; what else?" + +"Are you afraid, Dick?" + +"Not with you for a pal. Seven was too many; with two we can rule the +range." + +"Partners, Dick?" + +How could he tell that her voice was gone so gentle because she was +seeing in her mind's eye another face than his? He leaned toward her, +thrilling. + +"Why not something more than partners, after a while, Jack?" + +She smiled strangely up to him. + +"Because of this, Dick." + +And fumbling at her throat, she showed him the glittering metal of the +cross; an instinct made him swerve the horse away from her. + +"The cross goes on, but what of you Jack?" + +A long silence fell between them. Words died in the making. + +The great weight pressing down on that slender throat was like the iron +hand of a giant, but slowly one by one the sounds marshalled themselves: + +". . . God knows . . ." It was the passing of Judgment. "God +knows . . . not I." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RIDERS OF THE SILENCES*** + + +******* This file should be named 20044-8.txt or 20044-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/0/4/20044 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://www.gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: +https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/20044-8.zip b/20044-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f523a6b --- /dev/null +++ b/20044-8.zip diff --git a/20044-h.zip b/20044-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c093585 --- /dev/null +++ b/20044-h.zip diff --git a/20044-h/20044-h.htm b/20044-h/20044-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..167f016 --- /dev/null +++ b/20044-h/20044-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,15402 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Riders of the Silences, by John Frederick</title> +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: medium; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-size: small } + +P.letter {font-size: small ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 5% } + +P.salutation {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 5% } + +P.footnote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.index {font-size: small ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +P.intro {font-size: medium ; + text-indent: -5% ; + margin-left: 5% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.dedication {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 15%; + text-align: justify } + +P.published {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 15% } + +p.quote {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.report {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +p.report2 {font-size: small ; + text-indent: 4% ; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +p.finis { text-align: center } + + hr.full { width: 100%; + height: 5px; } + a:link {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none; } + link {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none; } + a:visited {color:#0000ff; + text-decoration:none; } + a:hover {color:#ff0000; + text-decoration: underline; } + pre {font-size: 75%; } + +</STYLE> +</head> +<body> +<h1 align="center">The Project Gutenberg eBook, Riders of the Silences, by John Frederick, +Illustrated by Frank Tenney Johnson</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Riders of the Silences</p> +<p>Author: John Frederick</p> +<p>Release Date: December 7, 2006 [eBook #20044]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RIDERS OF THE SILENCES***</p> +<br><br><center><h3>E-text prepared by Al Haines</h3></center><br><br> +<hr class="full" noshade> +<br> +<br> +<br> +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT="Each one of them should have ridden alone to be properly appreciated. To see them together was like watching a flock of eagles." BORDER="2" WIDTH="426" HEIGHT="651"> +<H3> +[Frontispiece: Each one of them should have ridden alone to be properly appreciated. To see them together was like watching a flock of eagles.] +</H3> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +RIDERS OF THE SILENCES +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +By JOHN FREDERICK +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +WITH FRONTISPIECE BY +<BR> +FRANK TENNEY JOHNSON +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +A. L. BURT COMPANY +<BR> +Publishers ———— New York +</H4> + +<BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +Published by arrangement with The H. K. Fly Company +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY +<BR> +THE H. K. FLY COMPANY +<BR><BR> +COPYRIGHT, 1920, +<BR> +THE MUNSEY CO. +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<BR> + +<CENTER> + +<TABLE WIDTH="80%"> +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">CHAPTER</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">I. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap01">The Thunderbolt</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">II. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap02">Irene</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">III. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap03">The Launching of The Bolt</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap04">The Corner Plot</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">V. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap05">Hurley</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">Fear</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">The Voice in The Storm</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">VIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">Belief</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">IX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">Riders of The Silences</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">X. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">The Guard</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">Jack Grows Up</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">The Burial</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">A Tale of The Sledge</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">McGurk</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">Gold Hair</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">Ennui</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">Black Gandil</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">Five Minutes' Silence</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">Partners</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">Full Dress</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">The Dance</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">The Overtone</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">The Fear of The Living</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">The Luck of The Shipwrecked</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap25">Jacqueline Waits</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap26">A Game of Suppose</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap27">The Trail</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap28">A Hint of White</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap29">Jack</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap30">The Whisper of The Knife</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap31">Laughter</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap32">A Tale of A Careless Man</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap33">A Count To Ten</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXIV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap34">Tiger-Heart</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXV. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap35">Jack Hears a Small Voice</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXVI. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap36">A Voice in The Night</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXVII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap37">A Man's Death</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXVIII. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap38">The Waiting</A></TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="right" VALIGN="top">XXXIX. </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap39">The Cross Goes On</A></TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +RIDERS OF THE SILENCES +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER I +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE THUNDERBOLT +</H3> + +<P> +It seemed that Father Anthony gathered all the warmth of the short +northern summer and kept it for winter use, for his good nature was an +actual physical force. From his ruddy face beamed such an ardent +kindliness that people literally reached out towards him as they might +extend their hands toward a comfortable fire. +</P> + +<P> +All the labors of his work as an Inspector of Jesuit institutions +across the length and breadth of Canada could not lessen the flame of +the good father's enthusiasm; his smile was as indefatigable as his +critical eyes. The one looked sharply into every corner of a room and +every nook and hidden cranny of thoughts and deeds; the other veiled +the criticism and soothed the wounds of vanity. +</P> + +<P> +On this day, however, the sharp eyes grew a little less keen and +somewhat wider, while that smile was fixed rather by habit than +inclination. In fact, his expression might be called a frozen +kindliness as he looked across the table to Father Victor. +</P> + +<P> +It required a most indomitable geniality, indeed, to outface the rigid +piety of Jean Paul Victor. His missionary work had carried him far +north, where the cold burns men thin. The eternal frost of the Arctics +lay on his hair, and his starved eyes looked out from hollows shadowed +with blue. He might have posed for a painting of one of those damned +souls whom Dante placed in the frozen circle of the "Inferno." +</P> + +<P> +It was his own spirit which tortured him—the zeal which drove him +north and north and north over untracked regions, drove him until his +body failed, drove him even now, though his body was crippled. +</P> + +<P> +A mighty yearning, and a still mightier self-contempt whipped him on, +and the school over which he was master groaned and suffered under his +régime, and the disciples caught his spirit and went out like warriors +in the name of God to spread the faith. +</P> + +<P> +He despised them as he despised himself, for he said continually in his +heart: "How great is the purpose and how little is our labor!" +</P> + +<P> +Some such thought as that curled his thin lip as he stared across at +Father Anthony like a wolf that has not eaten for a fortnight. The +good father sustained the gaze, but he shivered a little and sighed. +There was awe, and pity, and even a touch of horror in his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +He said gently: "Are there none among all your lads, dear Father +Victor, whom you find something more than imperfect machines?" +</P> + +<P> +The man of the north drew from a pocket of his robe a letter. His +marvelously lean fingers touched it almost with a caress, and when he +spoke the softening which could not appear in the rigid features came +into his voice and made it lower and deeper. +</P> + +<P> +"One." +</P> + +<P> +Father Anthony started in astonishment, as one might start to hear a +divine prophet admit a mistake, but being wise he remained silent, +waiting. Jean Paul Victor peered into space. +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre Ryder. He is like a pleasant summer, and I"—he clasped his +colorless hands—"am frozen—frozen to the heart." +</P> + +<P> +Still Father Anthony waited, but his eyes were like diamonds for +brightness. +</P> + +<P> +"He shall carry on my mission in the north. I, who am silent, have +done much; but Pierre sings, and he will do more. I had to fight my +first battle to conquer my own stubborn soul, and the battle left me +weak for the great work in the snows, but Pierre will not fight that +battle, for I have trained him." +</P> + +<P> +He repeated after a pause: "For those who sing forget themselves and +their weariness. I, Jean Paul Victor, have never sung." +</P> + +<P> +He bowed his head, submitting to the judgment of God. +</P> + +<P> +"This letter is for him. Shall we not carry it to him? For two days I +have not seen Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +Father Anthony winced. +</P> + +<P> +He said: "Do you deny yourself even the pleasure of the lad's company? +Alas, Father Victor, you forge your own spurs and goad yourself with +your own hands. What harm is there in being often with the lad?" +</P> + +<P> +The sneer returned to the lips of Jean Paul Victor. +</P> + +<P> +"The purpose would be lost—lost to my eyes and lost to his—the +purpose for which I have lived and for which he shall live—the purpose +to which you are dedicated, Gabrielle Antoine Anthony." +</P> + +<P> +He relented in his fierceness, and continued with the strange gentle +note in his voice: "Our love for the young, it is like a vine that +climbs through the branches of a strong tree. When the vine is young +it may be taken away in safety and both the tree and the vine will +live, but if it grows old it will kill the tree when the vine is torn +away. +</P> + +<P> +"I am the strong tree, and Pierre has grown into my heart. It is time +that he be torn away. He is almost ready. The work is prepared. He +must start forth." +</P> + +<P> +Even while he announced his purpose the sweat poured out on his +forehead. He rose and paced noiselessly up and down the bare room, his +black robe catching around the long, bony legs. Father Anthony drew a +great breath. At last Jean Paul Victor could speak again. +</P> + +<P> +"In all the history of our order, there is hardly one man who will go +out armed like Pierre Ryder. He is young, he is strong, he is +fearless, he is pure of heart and single of mind. He has never tasted +wine; he has never looked wrongly on a woman." +</P> + +<P> +"A prodigy—but it is your work." +</P> + +<P> +"Mine—all mine!" +</P> + +<P> +The whole soul of the man stood up in his eyes in a fierce triumph. +</P> + +<P> +"Hear how I worked. When I first saw him he was a child, a baby, but +he came to me and took one finger of my hand in his small fist and +looked up to me. Ah, Gabrielle the smile of an infant goes to the +heart swifter than the thrust of a knife! I looked down upon him and +thought many things, and I knew that I was chosen to teach the child. +There was a voice that spoke in me. You will smile, but even now I +think I can hear it." +</P> + +<P> +"I swear to you that I believe," said Father Anthony, and his voice +trembled. +</P> + +<P> +"Another man would have given Pierre a Bible and a Latin grammar and a +cell. I gave him the testament and the grammar; I gave him also the +wild north country to say his prayers in and patter his Latin. I +taught his mind, but I did not forget his body. +</P> + +<P> +"He is to go out among wild men. He must have strength of the spirit. +He must also have a strength of the body that they will understand and +respect. How else can he translate for them the truths of the Holy +Spirit? Every day of his life I have made him handle firearms. Other +men think, and aim, and fire; Pierre thinks and shoots, and has +forgotten how to miss. +</P> + +<P> +"He goes among wild men. These lessons must be learned. He is a +soldier of God. He can ride a horse standing; he can run a hundred +miles in a day behind a dog-team. He can wrestle and fight with his +hands, for I have brought skilled men to teach him. I have made him a +thunderbolt to hurl among the ignorant and the unenlightened; and this +is the hand which shall wield it. Ha!" +</P> + +<P> +A flash of cold fire came for a single instant in his eyes as he stood +with upturned face. He changed. +</P> + +<P> +"Yet he is gentle as a woman. He goes out through the villages and +comes back unharmed, and after him come letters from girls and old men +and dames. Even strong men come many miles to see him and they write +to him. He is known. It is now hardly a six month since he saved a +trapper from a bobcat and killed the animal with a knife." +</P> + +<P> +His heart failed him at the thought, and he murmured: "It must have +been my prayers which saved him from the teeth and the claws." +</P> + +<P> +Good Father Anthony rose. +</P> + +<P> +"You have described a young David. I am eager to see him. Let us go." +</P> + +<P> +"Wait. Before you go you must know that he does not suspect that he +differs from other youths. Women have looked lewdly upon him and +written him letters with singing words, but Pierre being of a simple +nature, he answers them briefly and commends them to God. In fact, the +flattery of women he does not understand, and the flattery of men he +thinks is mere kindliness. Are you prepared to meet him, father?" +</P> + +<P> +Father Anthony nodded, and the two went out together. The chill of the +open was hardly more than the bitter cold inside the building, but +there was a wind that drove the cold through the blood and bones of a +man. +</P> + +<P> +They staggered along against it until they came to a small outhouse, +long and low. On the sheltered side of it they paused to take breath, +and Feather Victor explained: "This is his hour in the gymnasium. To +make the body strong required thought and care. Mere riding and +running and swinging of the ax will not develop every muscle. So I +made this gymnasium, and here Pierre works every day. His teachers of +boxing and wrestling have abandoned him." +</P> + +<P> +There was almost a smile on the lean face. +</P> + +<P> +"The last man left with a swollen jaw and limping on one leg." +</P> + +<P> +Conscience-stricken, he stopped short, crossed himself, and then went +on: "So I give him for partners men who have committed small sins. +Their penance is to stand before Pierre and box each day for a few +minutes and then to wrestle against him. They are fierce men, these +woodsmen and trappers, and big of body; but little Pierre, they dread +him like a whip of fire. One and all, they come to me within a +fortnight and beg for an easier penance." +</P> + +<P> +Here he opened the door, and they slipped inside. The air was warmed +by a big stove, and the room—for the afternoon was dark—lighted by +two swinging lanterns suspended from the low roof. By that +illumination Father Anthony saw two men stripped naked, save for a +loin-cloth, and circling each other slowly in the center of a ring +which was fenced in with ropes and floored with a padded mat. +Certainly Father Victor had spared nothing in expense to make the +fittings of the gymnasium perfect. +</P> + +<P> +Of the two wrestlers, one was a veritable giant of a Canuck, swarthy of +skin, hairy-chested. His great hands were extended to grasp or to +parry—his head lowered with a ferocious scowl—and across his forehead +swayed a tuft of black, shaggy hair. He might have stood for one of +those northern barbarians whom the Romans loved to pit against their +native champions in the arena. He was the greater because of the +opponent he faced, and it was upon this opponent that the eyes of +Father Anthony centered. +</P> + +<P> +Like Father Victor, he was caught first by the bright hair. It was a +dark red, and where the light struck it strongly there were places like +fire. Down from this hair the light slipped like running water over a +lithe body, slender at the hips, strong-chested, round and smooth of +limb, with long muscles everywhere leaping and trembling at every move. +</P> + +<P> +He, like the big Canuck, circled cautiously about, but the impression +he gave was as different from the other as day is from night. His head +was carried high; in place of a scowl, he smiled with a sort of boyish +eagerness, and a light which was partly exultation and partly mischief +sparkled in his eyes. Once or twice the giant caught at the other, but +David slipped from under the grip of Goliath easily. It seemed as if +his skin were oiled. The big man snarled with anger, and lunged more +eagerly at Pierre. Father Anthony caught the shoulder of his friend. +</P> + +<P> +"Quick!" he whispered anxiously. "Stop them, for if the black fellow +sets his fingers on the boy he will break him like a willow wand, +and—in the name of God, Jean Paul!" +</P> + +<P> +For the two, abandoning their feints, suddenly rushed together, and the +swarthy arms of the monster slipped around the white body of Pierre. +For a moment they whirled, twisting and struggling. +</P> + +<P> +"Now!" murmured Father Victor; and as if in answer to a command, Pierre +slipped down, whipped his hands to a new grip, and the two crashed to +the mat, with Pierre above. +</P> + +<P> +"Open your eyes, Father Anthony. The lad is safe. How Goliath grunts!" +</P> + +<P> +The boy had not cared to follow his advantage, but rose and danced +away, laughing softly. The Canuck floundered up and rushed like a +furious bull. His downfall was only the swifter. The impact of the +two bodies sounded like hands clapped together, and then Goliath rose +into the air, struggling mightily, and pitched with a thud to the mat. +</P> + +<P> +He writhed there, for the wind was knocked from his body by the fall. +At length he struggled to a sitting posture and glared up at the +conqueror. The boy reached out a hand to his fallen foe. +</P> + +<P> +"You would have thrown me that way the first time," he said, "but you +let me change grips on you. In another week you will be too much for +me, <I>bon ami</I>." +</P> + +<P> +The other accepted the hand after an instant of hesitation and was +dragged to his feet. He stood resting one elbow on the gleaming +shoulder of Pierre and looking down into the boy's face with a singular +grin. But there was no triumph in the eye of Pierre—only a +good-natured interest. +</P> + +<P> +"In another week," answered the giant, "there will not be a sound bone +in my body. This very night I shall go to Father Victor. I had rather +starve for three days in the forest than stand up to you for three +minutes, little brother." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER II +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +IRENE +</H3> + + +<P> +"You have seen him," murmured the tall priest. "Now let us go back and +wait for him. I will leave word." +</P> + +<P> +He touched one of the two or three men who were watching the athletes, +and whispered his message in the other's ear. Then he went back with +Father Anthony. +</P> + +<P> +"You have seen him," he repeated, when they sat once more in the +cheerless room. "Now pronounce on him." +</P> + +<P> +The other answered: "I have seen a wonderful body—but the mind, Father +Victor?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is as simple as that of a child—his thoughts run as clear as +spring water." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, but they are swift thoughts. Suppose the spring water gathers up +a few stones and rushes on down the side of the mountain. Very soon it +is wearing a deeper channel—then but a little space, and it is a +raging torrent and tears down great trees from its banks and goes +shouting and leaping out toward the sea. +</P> + +<P> +"Suppose a strange thought came in the mind of your Pierre. It would +be like the pebbles in the swift-running spring water. He would carry +it on, rushing. It would tear away the old boundaries of his mind—it +might wipe out the banks you have set down for him—it might tear away +the choicest teachings." +</P> + +<P> +Father Victor sat straight and stiff with stern, set lips. +</P> + +<P> +He said dryly: "Father Anthony has been much in the world." +</P> + +<P> +"I speak from the best intention, good father. Look you, now, I have +seen that same red hair and those same lighted blue eyes before, and +wherever I have seen them has been war and trouble and unrest. I have +seen that same whimsical smile which stirs the heart of a woman and +makes a man reach for his revolver. This boy whose mind is so +clear—arm him with a single wrong thought, with a single doubt of the +eternal goodness of God's plans, and he will be a thunderbolt indeed, +dear Father, but one which even your strong hand could not control." +</P> + +<P> +"I have heard you," said the priest; "but you will see. He is coming +now." +</P> + +<P> +There was a knock at the door; then it opened and showed a modest +novice in a simple gown of black serge girt at the waist with the flat +encircling band. His head was downward; it was not till the blue eyes +flashed inquisitively up that Father Anthony recognized Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +The hard voice of Jean Paul Victor pronounced: "This is that Father +Anthony of whom I have spoken." +</P> + +<P> +The novice slipped to his knees and folded his hands. The two priests +exchanged glances, one of triumph and one of wonder, while the plump +fingers of Father Anthony poised over that dark red hair, pressed +smooth on top where the skull-cap rested, and curling somewhat at the +sides. The blessing which he spoke was Latin, and Father Victor looked +somewhat anxiously toward his protégé till the latter answered in a +diction so pure that Cicero himself would have smiled to hear it: +</P> + +<P> +"Father, I thank thee, and if my mind were as old as thine I might be +able to wish blessings as great as these in return." +</P> + +<P> +"Stand up!" cried Father Anthony. "By Heavens, Jean Paul, it is the +purest Latin I have heard this twelvemonth." +</P> + +<P> +And the lad answered: "It must be pure Latin; Father Victor has taught +me." +</P> + +<P> +Gabrielle Anthony stared, and to save him from too obvious confusion +the other priest interrupted: "I have a letter for you, my son." +</P> + +<P> +And he passed the envelope to Pierre. The latter examined it with +interest. +</P> + +<P> +"The writing sprawls like the knees of a boy of ten. What old man has +written to you, Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +"No man that I know. This comes from the south. It is marked from the +United States." +</P> + +<P> +"So far!" exclaimed the tall priest. "Give me the letter, lad." +</P> + +<P> +But here he caught the whimsical eyes of Father Anthony, and he allowed +his outstretched hand to fall. Yet he scowled as he said: "No; keep it +and read it, Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"I have no great wish to keep it," answered Pierre, studying anxiously +the dark brow of the priest. +</P> + +<P> +"It is yours. Open it and read." +</P> + +<P> +The lad obeyed instantly. He shook out the folded paper and moved a +little nearer the light. Then he read aloud, as if it had never +entered his mind that what was addressed to him might be meant for his +eyes alone. And as he read he reminded Father Anthony of some childish +chorister pronouncing words beyond his understanding. The tears came +to the eyes of the good father. +</P> + +<P> +And he said in his heart: "Alas! I have been too much in the world of +men, and now a child can teach me." +</P> + +<P> +The musical voice of the boy began: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="salutation"> +"Morgantown,<BR> +"R. F. D. No. 4.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="salutation"> +"SON PIERRE: +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Here I lie with a chunk of lead from the gun of Bob McGurk resting +somewheres in the insides of me, and there ain't no way of doubting +that I'm about to go out. Now, I ain't complaining none. I've had my +fling. I've eat my meat to order, well done and rare—mostly rare. +Maybe some folks will be saying that I've got what I've been asking +for, and I know that Bob McGurk got me fair and square, shooting from +the hip. That don't help me none, lying here with a through ticket to +some place that's farther south than Texas." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Pierre lowered the letter and looked gravely upon Father Victor. +</P> + +<P> +"There are blasphemies coming. Shall I read on?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +He began again, a little spot of red coming into either cheek: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Hell ain't none too bad for me, I know. I ain't whining none. I just +lie here and watch the world getting dimmer until I begin to be seeing +things out of my past. That shows the devil ain't losing no time with +me. But the thing that comes back oftenest and hits me the hardest is +the sight of your mother, lying with you in the hollow of her arm and +looking up at me and whispering, 'Dad,' just before she went out." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The hand of the boy fell, and his wide eyes sought the face of Father +Victor. The latter was standing. +</P> + +<P> +"You told me I had no father—" +</P> + +<P> +An imperious arm stretched toward him. +</P> + +<P> +"Give me the letter." +</P> + +<P> +He moved to obey, and then checked himself. +</P> + +<P> +"This is my father's writing, is it not?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, no! It's a lie, Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +But Pierre stood with the letter held behind his back, and the first +doubt in his life stood up darkly in his eyes. Father Victor sank +slowly back into his chair. All his gaunt frame was trembling. +</P> + +<P> +"Read on," he commanded. +</P> + +<P> +And Pierre, white of face, read on: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"So I got a idea that I had to write to you, Pierre. There ain't +nothing I can make up to you, but knowing the truth may help some. +Poor kid, you ain't got no father in the eyes of the law, and neither +did you have no mother, and there ain't no name that belongs to you by +rights." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Father Anthony veiled his eyes, but the bright starved eyes of Jean +Paul Victor stared on at the reader. His voice was lower now, and the +lips moved slowly, as though numb with cold: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +I was a man in them days, and your mother was a woman that brought your +heart into your throat and set it singing. She and me, we were too +busy being just plain happy to care much what was right or wrong; so +you just sort of happened along, Pierre. Me being so close to hell, I +remember her eyes that was bluer than heaven looking up to me, and her +hair, that was copper with gold lights in it, ran down across the white +of her shoulder, and even past her side and around you, Pierre, till it +seemed like you was lying in a red river. She being about all in, she +got hold of my hand and looked up to me with them blue eyes I been +talking about, and said 'Dad,' and went out. And I damned near +followed her. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"I buried Irene on the side of the mountain under a big, rough rock, +and I didn't carve nothing on the rock. Then I took you, Pierre, and I +knew I wasn't no sort of a man to raise up the son of Irene; so I +brought you to Father Victor on a winter night and left you in his +arms. That was after I'd done my best to raise you and you was just +about old enough to chatter a bit. There wasn't nothing else to do. +My wife, she went pretty near crazy when I brought you home. And she'd +of killed you, Pierre, if I hadn't took you away. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"You see, I was married before I met Irene. So there ain't no alibi +for me. I just acted the hound. But me being so close to hell now, I +look back to that time, and somehow I see no wrong in it still. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"And if I done wrong then, I've got my share of hell-fire for it. Here +I lie, with my boys, Bill and Bert, sitting around in the corner of the +room waiting for me to go out. They ain't men, Pierre. They're wolves +in the skins of men. They're the right sons of their mother. When I +go out they'll grab the coin I've saved up, and leave me to lie here +and rot, maybe. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"Lad, it's a fearful thing to die without having no one around that +cares, and to know that even after I've gone out I'm going to lie here +and have my dead eyes looking up at the ceiling. So I'm writing to +you, Pierre, part to tell you what you ought to know; part because I +got a sort of crazy idea that maybe you could get down here to me +before I go out. +</P> + +<P CLASS="letter"> +"You don't owe me nothing but hard words, Pierre; but if you don't try +to come to me, the ghost of your mother will follow you all your life, +lad, and you'll be seeing her blue eyes and the red-gold of her hair in +the dark of the night as I see it now. Me, I'm a hard man, but it +breaks my heart, that ghost of Irene. So here I'll lie, waiting for +you, Pierre, and lingering out the days with whisky, and fighting the +wolf eyes of them there sons of mine. If I weaken—If they find they +can look me square in the eye—they'll finish me quick, and make off +with the coin. Pierre, come quick. +</P> + +<P CLASS="salutation"> +"MARTIN RYDER." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +The hand of Pierre dropped slowly to his side, and the letter fluttered +with a crisp rustling to the floor. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER III +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE LAUNCHING OF THE BOLT +</H3> + + +<P> +Then came a voice that startled the two priests, for it seemed that a +fourth man had entered the room, so changed was it from the musical +voice of Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +"Father Victor, the roan is a strong horse. May I take him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre!" and the priest reached out his bony hands. +</P> + +<P> +But the boy did not seem to notice or to understand. +</P> + +<P> +"It is a long journey, and I will need a strong horse. It must be +eight hundred miles to that town." +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, what claim has he upon you? What debt have you to repay?" +</P> + +<P> +And Pierre le Rouge answered: "He loved my mother." +</P> + +<P> +He raised his face a little higher and smiled upon them. +</P> + +<P> +"It is a beautiful name, is it not—Irene?" +</P> + +<P> +There was no voice from Jean Paul Victor, so he turned to Father +Anthony. +</P> + +<P> +"It is a charming name, Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"I would give my revolver with the pearl handle, and my skates, and the +engraven knife of old Canole just for one glimpse of her." +</P> + +<P> +"You are going?" +</P> + +<P> +The boy asked in astonishment: "Would you not have me go, Father?" +</P> + +<P> +And Jean Paul Victor could not meet the sorrowful blue eyes. +</P> + +<P> +He bowed his head and answered: "My child, I would have you go. But +promise with your hand in mine that you will come back to me when your +father is buried." +</P> + +<P> +The lean fingers caught the extended hand of Pierre and froze about it. +</P> + +<P> +"But first I have a second duty in the southland." +</P> + +<P> +"A second?" +</P> + +<P> +"You taught me to shoot and to use a knife. Once you said: 'An eye for +an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.' Father Victor, my father was killed +by another man." +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, dear lad, swear to me here on this cross that you will not +raise your hands against the murderer. 'Vengeance is mine, saith the +Lord.'" +</P> + +<P> +"He must have an instrument for his wrath. He shall work through me in +this." +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, you blaspheme." +</P> + +<P> +"'An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.'" +</P> + +<P> +"It was a demon in me that quoted that in your hearing, and not myself." +</P> + +<P> +"The horse, Father Victor—may I have the roan?" +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, I command you—" +</P> + +<P> +The light in the blue eyes was as cold and steady as that in the +starved eyes of Jean Paul Victor. +</P> + +<P> +"Hush!" he said calmly. "For the sake of the love that I bear for you, +do not command me." +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, I have prayed God for you night and morning, and for the sake +of those prayers which are dearer than gold in heaven, stay with me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Dear Father Victor, you also hope for hands that love you to close +your eyes at the end." +</P> + +<P> +And the stern priest dropped his head. He said at last: "I have +nothing saving one great and terrible treasure which I see was +predestined to you. It is the cross of Father Meilan. You have worn +it before. You shall wear it hereafter as your own." +</P> + +<P> +He took from his own neck a silver cross suspended by a slender silver +chain, and the boy, with startled eyes, dropped to his knees and +received the gift. +</P> + +<P> +"It has brought good to all who possessed it, but for every good thing +that it works for you it will work evil on some other. Great is its +blessing and great is its burden. I, alas, know; but you also have +heard of its history. Do you accept it, Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +"Dear Father, with all my heart." +</P> + +<P> +The colorless hands touched the dark-red hair, and the prophet eyes of +the priest went up. +</P> + +<P> +"God pardon the sins you shall commit." +</P> + +<P> +Pierre crushed the hand of Jean Paul Victor against his lips and rushed +from the room, while the tall priest, staring down at the fingers which +had been kissed, pronounced: +</P> + +<P> +"It is better that he should commit murder with his hands than to slay +in his evil thoughts." +</P> + +<P> +"Can you resign him like this?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have forged a thunderbolt. Father Gabrielle, you are a prophet. It +is too great for my hand. Listen!" +</P> + +<P> +And they heard clearly the sharp clang of a horse's hoofs on the +hard-packed snow, loud at first, but fading rapidly away. The wind, +increasing suddenly, shook the house furiously about them. +</P> + +<P> +It was a north wind, and traveled south before the rider of the strong +roan. Over a thousand miles of plain and hills it passed, and down +into the cattle country of the mountain-desert which the Rockies hem on +one side and the tall Sierras on the other. +</P> + +<P> +It was a trail to try even the endurance of Pierre and the strong roan, +but the boy clung to it doggedly. On a trail that led down from the +edges of the northern mountain the roan crashed to the ground in a +plunging fall, hitting heavily on his knees. He was dead before the +boy had freed his feet from the stirrups. +</P> + +<P> +Pierre threw the saddle over his shoulder and walked eight miles to the +nearest ranchhouse, where he spent practically the last cent of his +money on another horse, and drove on south once more. +</P> + +<P> +There was little hope in him as day after day slipped past. Only the +ghost of a chance remained that Martin Ryder could fight away death for +another fortnight; yet Pierre had seen many a man from the +mountain-desert stave off the end through weeks and weeks of the +bitterest suffering. His father must be a man of the same hard durable +metal, and upon that Pierre staked all his hopes. +</P> + +<P> +And always he carried the picture of the dying man alone with his two +wolf-eyed sons who waited for his eyes to weaken. Whenever he thought +of that he touched his horse with the spurs and rode fiercely for a +time. They were his flesh and blood, the man, and even the two +wolf-eyed sons. +</P> + +<P> +So he came at last to a gap in the hills and looked down on Morgantown +in the hollow, twoscore unpainted houses sprawling along a single +street. The snow was everywhere white and pure, and the town was like +a stain on the landscape with wisps of smoke rising and trailing across +the hilltops. +</P> + +<P> +Down to the edge of the town he rode, left his cow-pony standing with +hanging head outside a saloon, strode through the swinging doors, and +asked of the bartender the way to the house of Martin Ryder. +</P> + +<P> +The bartender stopped in his labor of rubbing down the surface of his +bar and stared at the black-serge robe of the stranger, with curiosity +rather than criticism, for women, madmen, and clergymen have the +right-of-way in the mountain-desert. +</P> + +<P> +He said: "Well, I'll be damned!—askin' your pardon. So old Mart Ryder +has come down to this, eh? Partner, you're sure going to have a rough +ride getting Mart to heaven. Better send a posse along with him, +because some first-class angels are going to get considerable riled +when they sight him coming. Ha, ha, ha! Sure I'll show you the way. +Take the northwest road out of town and go five miles till you see a +broken-backed shack lyin' over to the right. That's Mart Ryder's +place." +</P> + +<P> +Out to the broken-backed shack rode Pierre le Rouge, Pierre the Red, as +every one in the north country knew him. His second horse, staunch +cow-pony that it was, stumbled on with sagging knees and hanging head, +but Pierre rode upright, at ease, for his mind was untired. +</P> + +<P> +Broken-backed indeed was the house before which he dismounted. The +roof sagged from end to end, and the stove pipe chimney leaned at a +drunken angle. Nature itself was withered beside that house; before +the door stood a great cottonwood, gashed and scarred by lightning, +with the limbs almost entirely stripped away from one side. Under this +broken monster Pierre stepped and through the door. Two growls like +the snarls of watch-dogs greeted him, and two tall, unshaven men barred +his way. +</P> + +<P> +Behind them, from the bed in the corner, a feeble voice called: "Who's +there?" +</P> + +<P> +"In the name of God," said the boy gravely, for he saw a hollow-eyed +specter staring toward him from the bed in the corner, "let me pass! I +am his son!" +</P> + +<P> +It was not that which made them give back, but a shrill, faint cry of +triumph from the sick man toward which they turned. Pierre slipped +past them and stood above Martin Ryder. He was wasted beyond +belief—only the monster hand showed what he had been. +</P> + +<P> +"Son?" he queried with yearning and uncertainty. +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, your son." +</P> + +<P> +And he slipped to his knees beside the bed. The heavy hand fell upon +his hair and stroked it. +</P> + +<P> +"There ain't no ways of doubting it. It's red silk, like the hair of +Irene. Seein' you, boy, it ain't so hard to die. Look up! So! +Pierre, my son! Are you scared of me, boy?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not afraid." +</P> + +<P> +"Not with them eyes you ain't. Now that you're here, pay the coyotes +and let 'em go off to gnaw the bones." +</P> + +<P> +He dragged out a small canvas bag from beneath the blankets and +gestured toward the two lurkers in the corner. +</P> + +<P> +"Take it, and be damned to you!" +</P> + +<P> +A dirty, yellow hand seized the bag; there was a chortle of exultation, +and the two scurried out of the room. +</P> + +<P> +"Three weeks they've watched an' waited for me to go out, Pierre. +Three weeks they've waited an' sneaked up to my bed an' sneaked away +agin, seein' my eyes open." +</P> + +<P> +Looking into their fierce fever brightness, Pierre understood why they +had quailed. For the man, though wrecked beyond hope of living, was +terrible still. The thick, gray stubble on his face could not hide +altogether the hard lines of mouth and jaw, and on the wasted arm the +hand was grotesquely huge. It was horror that widened the eyes of +Pierre as he looked at Martin Ryder; it was a grim happiness that made +his lips almost smile. +</P> + +<P> +"You've taken holy orders, lad?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"But the black dress?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm only a novice. I've sworn no vows." +</P> + +<P> +"And you don't hate me—you hold no grudge against me for the sake of +your mother, Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +He took the heavy hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you not my father? And my mother was happy with you. For her +sake I love you." +</P> + +<P> +"The good Father Victor. He sent you to me." +</P> + +<P> +"I came of my own will. He would not have let me go." +</P> + +<P> +"He—he would have kept my flesh and blood away from me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do not reproach him. He would have kept me from a sin." +</P> + +<P> +"Sin? By God, boy, no matter what I've done, is it sin for my son to +come to me? What sin?" +</P> + +<P> +"The sin of murder!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ha!" +</P> + +<P> +"I have come to find McGurk." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CORNER PLOT +</H3> + + +<P> +Like some old father-bear watching his cub flash teeth against a +stalking lynx, half proud and half fearful of such courage, so the +dying cattleman looked at his son. Excitement set a high and dangerous +color in his cheek. His eyes were too bright. +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre—brave boy! Look at me. I ain't no imitation-man, even now, +but I ain't a ghost of what I was. There wasn't no man I wouldn't of +met fair and square with bare hands or with a gun. Maybe my hands was +big, but they were fast on the draw. I've lived all my life with iron +on the hip, and my six-gun has seven notches. +</P> + +<P> +"But McGurk downed me fair and square. There wasn't no murder. I was +out for his hide, and he knew it. I done the provokin', an' he jest +done the finishin', that was all. It hurts me a lot to say it, but +he's a better man than I was. A kid like you, why, he'd jest eat you, +Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +Pierre le Rouge smiled again. He felt a stern and aching pride to be +the son of this man. +</P> + +<P> +"So that's settled," went on Martin Ryder, "an' a damned good thing it +is. Son, you didn't come none too soon. I'm goin' out fast. There +ain't enough light left in me so's I can see my own way. Here's all I +ask: When I die touch my eyelids soft an' draw 'em shut—I've seen the +look in a dead man's eyes. Close 'em, and I know I'll go to sleep an' +have good dreams. And down in the middle of Morgantown is the +buryin'-ground. I've ridden past it a thousand times an' watched a +corner plot, where the grass grows quicker than it does anywheres else +in the cemetery. Pierre, I'd die plumb easy if I knew I was goin' to +sleep the rest of time in that place." +</P> + +<P> +"It shall be done." +</P> + +<P> +"But that corner plot, it would cost a pile, son. And I've no money. +I gave what I had to them wolf-eyed boys, Bill an' Bert. Money was +what they wanted, an' after I had Irene's son with me, money was the +cheapest way of gettin' rid of 'em." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll buy the plot." +</P> + +<P> +"Have you got that much money, lad?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," lied Pierre calmly. +</P> + +<P> +The bright eyes grew dimmer and then fluttered close. Pierre started +to his feet, thinking that the end had come. But the voice began +again, fainter, slowly: +</P> + +<P> +"No light left inside of me, but dyin' this way is easy. There ain't +no wind will blow on me after I'm dead, but I'll be blanketed safe from +head to foot in cool, sweet-smellin' sod—the kind that has tangles of +the roots of grass. There ain't no snow will reach to me where I lie. +There ain't no sun will burn down to me. Dyin' like that is +jest—goin' to sleep." +</P> + +<P> +After that he said nothing for a time, and the late afternoon darkened +slowly through the room. +</P> + +<P> +As for Pierre, he did not move, and his mind went back. He did not see +the bearded wreck who lay dying before him, but a picture of Irene, +with the sun lighting her copper hair with places of burning gold, and +a handsome young giant beside her. They rode together on some upland +trail at sunset rime, sharply framed against the bright sky. Their +hands were together; their faces were raised; they laughed, from the +midst of their small heaven. +</P> + +<P> +There was a whisper below him: "Irene!" +</P> + +<P> +And Pierre looked down to blankly staring eyes. He groaned, and +dropped to his knees. +</P> + +<P> +"I have come for you," said the whisper, "because the time has come, +Irene. We have to ride out together. We have a long ways to go. Are +you ready?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank God! It's a wonderful night. The stars are asking us out. +Quick! Into your saddle. Now the spurs. So! We are alone and free, +with the winds around us, and all that we have been forgotten behind +us. Irene, look up with me!" +</P> + +<P> +The eyes opened wide and stared up; without a stir in the great, gaunt +body he was dead. Pierre drew the eyes reverently shut. There were no +tears in his eyes, but a feeling of hollowness about his heart, and a +great pain. He straightened and looked about him and found that the +room was quite dark. +</P> + +<P> +So in the dimness Pierre fumbled, by force of habit, at his throat, and +found the cross which he wore by a silver chain about his throat. He +held it in a great grip and closed his eyes and prayed. When he opened +his eyes again it was almost deep night in the room, and Pierre had +passed from youth to manhood. Through the gloom nothing stood out +distinctly save the white face of the dead man, and from that Pierre +looked quickly away. +</P> + +<P> +One by one he numbered his obligations to Martin Ryder, and first and +last he remembered the lie which had soothed his father. The money for +that corner plot where the grass grew first in the spring of the +year—where was he to find it? He fumbled in his pocket and found only +a single coin. +</P> + +<P> +He leaned back against the wall and strove to concentrate on the +problem, but his thoughts wandered in spite of himself back to the +snows of Canada, to the letter, to the ride south, the death of the +roan, and so on until he reached his entry to that very room. +</P> + +<P> +Looking backward, he remembered all things much more clearly than when +he had actually seen them. For instance, he recalled now that as he +walked through the door the two figures which had started up to block +his way had left behind them some playing-cards at the corner table. +One of these cards had slipped from the edge of the board and flickered +slowly to the floor. +</P> + +<P> +With that memory the thoughts of Pierre le Rouge stopped. The picture +of the falling card remained; all else went out in his mind like the +snuffing of the candle. Then, as if he heard a voice directing him +through the utter blackness of the room, he knew what he must do. +</P> + +<P> +All his wealth was the single half-dollar piece in his pocket, and +there was only one way in which that coin could be increased to the sum +he would need to buy that corner plot, where the soul of old Martin +Ryder could sleep long and deep. +</P> + +<P> +From his brothers he would get no help. The least memory of those +sallow, hungry faces convinced him of that. +</P> + +<P> +There remained the gaming table. In the north country he had watched +men sit in a silent circle, smoking, drinking, with the flare of an +oil-lamp against deep, seamed faces, and only the slip and whisper of +card against card. +</P> + +<P> +Cold conscience tapped the shoulder of Pierre, remembering the lessons +of Father Victor, but a moment later his head went up and his eyes were +shining through the dark. After all, the end justified the means. It +was typical of him that sorrow sat lightly on him. +</P> + +<P> +A moment later he was laughing softly as a boy in the midst of a prank, +and busily throwing off the robe of serge. Fumbling through the night +he located the shirt and overalls he had seen hanging from a nail on +the wall. Into these he slipped, leaned to kiss the chill, damp +forehead of the sleeper, and then went out under the open sky. +</P> + +<P> +The rest had revived the strength of the tough little cow-pony, and he +drove on at a gallop toward the twinkling lights of Morgantown. There +was a new consciousness about Pierre as if he had changed his whole +nature with his clothes. The sober sense of duty which had kept him in +awe all his life like a lifted finger, was almost gone, and in its +place was a joyous freedom. +</P> + +<P> +For the first time he faintly realized what an existence other than +that of a priest might be. Now for a brief moment he could forget the +part of the subdued novice and become merely a man with nothing about +him to distinguish him from other men, nothing to make heads turn at +his approach and raise whispers as he passed. +</P> + +<P> +It was a game, but he rejoiced in it as a girl does in her first +masquerade. To-morrow he must be grave and sober-footed and an example +to other men; to-night he could frolic as he pleased. The good Father +Victor would hear and frown, perhaps, but remembering the purpose for +which the thing was done he would forgive. +</P> + +<P> +So Pierre le Rouge tossed back his head and laughed up to the frosty +stars. The loose sleeves and the skirts of the robe no longer +entangled his limbs. He threw up his arms and shouted. A hillside +caught the sound and echoed it back to him with a wonderful clearness, +and up and down the long ravine beat the clatter of the flying hoofs. +The whole world shouted and laughed and rode with him on Morgantown. +</P> + +<P> +If the people in the houses that he passed had known they would have +started up from their chairs and taken rifle and horse and after him on +the trail. But how could they tell from the passing of those ringing +hoofs that Pierre, the novice, was dead, and Red Pierre was born? +</P> + +<P> +So they drowsed on about their comfortable fires, and Pierre drew rein +with a jerk before the largest of Morgantown's saloons. With a hand on +the swinging doors he paused a breathless moment, thinking, doubting, +wondering—and a little cold of heart like the boy who stands on the +bank of the river to take the first plunge in the spring of the year. +He had to set his teeth before he could summon the resolution to throw +open the door. It was done; he stepped inside, and stood blinking in +the sudden rush of light against his face. +</P> + +<P> +It was all bewildering at first; the radiance, the blue tangle of +smoke, the storm of voices. For Muldoon's was packed from door to +door. Coins rang in a steady chorus along the bar, and the crowd +waited three and four deep. +</P> + +<P> +Some one was singing a rollicking song of the range at one end of the +bar, and a chorus of four bellowed a profane parody at the other end. +</P> + +<P> +The ears of Pierre le Rouge tingled hotly, and he lowered his eyes to +the floor. Truly, Father Victor would be very wrath when all this was +confessed. Partly to escape this uproar he worked his way to the +quieter room at the back of the saloon. +</P> + +<P> +It was almost as crowded as the bar, but here no one spoke except for +an occasional growl. Sudden speaking, and a loud voice, indeed, was +hardly safe. Some one cursed at his ill-luck as Pierre entered, and a +dozen hands reached for six-guns. In such a place one had to be +prepared. +</P> + +<P> +Pierre remembered with quick dismay that he was not armed. All his +life the straight black gown had been weapon enough to make all men +give way before him. Now he carried no borrowed strength upon his +shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +Automatically he slipped his fingers under the breast of his shirt +until their tips touched the cold metal of the cross. That gave him +stronger courage. The joy of the adventure made his blood warm again +as he drew out his one coin and looked for a place to start his venture. +</P> + +<P> +"It is God who governs me," he said, "and why should I doubt Him?" +</P> + +<P> +So he approached the nearest table. On the surface of it were marked +six squares with chalk, and each with its appropriate number. The man +who ran the game stood behind the table and shook three dice. The +numbers which turned up paid the gambler. The numbers which failed to +show paid the owner of the game. +</P> + +<P> +His luck had been too strong that night, and now only two men faced +him, and both of them lost persistently. They had passed the stage of +intelligent gaming; they were "bucking" the dice with savage +stubbornness. +</P> + +<P> +Pierre edged closer, shut his eyes, and deposited his coin. When he +looked again he saw that he had wagered on the five. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER V +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HURLEY +</H3> + + +<P> +The dice clattered across the table and were swept up by the hand of +the man behind the table before Pierre could note them. Sick at heart, +he began to turn away, as he saw that hand reach out and gather in the +coins of the other two betters. It went out a third time and laid +another fifty-cent piece upon his. The heart of Pierre bounded up to +his throat. +</P> + +<P> +Again the dice rolled, and this time he saw distinctly two fives turn +up. Two dollars in silver were dropped upon his, and still he let the +money lie. Again, again, and again the dice rolled. And now there +were pieces of gold among the silver that covered the square of the +five. +</P> + +<P> +The other two looked askance at him, and the owner of the game growled: +"Gimme room for the coins, stranger, will you?" +</P> + +<P> +Pierre picked up his winnings. In his left hand he held them, and the +coins brimmed his cupped palm. With the free hand he placed his new +wagers. But he lost now. +</P> + +<P> +"I cannot win forever," thought Pierre, and redoubled his bets in an +effort to regain the lost ground. +</P> + +<P> +Still his little fortune dwindled, till the sweat came out on his +forehead and the blood that had flushed his face ran back and left him +pale with dread. And at last there remained only one gold piece. He +hesitated, holding it poised for the wager, while the owner of the game +rattled the dice loudly and looked up at the coin with hungry eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Once more Pierre closed his eyes and laid his wager, while his empty +left hand slipped again inside his shirt and touched the metal of the +cross, and once more when he opened his eyes the hand of the gambler +was going out to lay a second coin over his. +</P> + +<P> +"It is the cross!" thought Pierre, and thrilled mightily. "It is the +cross which brings me luck." +</P> + +<P> +The dice rattled out. He won. Again, and still he won. The gambler +wiped his forehead and looked up anxiously. For these were wagers in +gold, and the doubling stakes were running high. About Pierre a crowd +had grown—a dozen cattlemen who watched the growing heap of gold with +silent fascination. Then they began to make wagers of their own, and +there were faint whispers of wrath and astonishment as the dice clicked +out and each time the winnings of Pierre doubled. +</P> + +<P> +Suddenly the dealer stopped and held up his left hand as a warning. +With his right, very slowly, inch by inch lest any one should suspect +him of a gun play, he drew out a heavy forty-five and laid it on the +table with the belt of cartridges. +</P> + +<P> +"Three years she's been on my hip through thick and thin, stranger. +Three years she's shot close an' true. There ain't a butt in the world +that hugs your hand tighter. There ain't a cylinder that spins easier. +Shoot? Lad, even a kid like you could be a killer with that six-gun. +What will you lay ag'in' it?" +</P> + +<P> +And his red-stained eyes glanced covetously at the yellow heap of +Pierre's money. +</P> + +<P> +"How much?" said Pierre eagerly. "Is there enough on the table to buy +the gun?" +</P> + +<P> +"Buy?" said the other fiercely. "There ain't enough coin west of the +Rockies to buy that gun. D'you think I'm yaller hound enough to sell +my six? No, but I'll risk it in a fair bet. There ain't no disgrace +in that; eh, pals?" +</P> + +<P> +There was a chorus of low grunts of assent. +</P> + +<P> +"All right," said Pierre. "That pile against the gun." +</P> + +<P> +"All of it?" +</P> + +<P> +"All." +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, kid, if you're tryin' to play a charity game with me—" +</P> + +<P> +"Charity?" +</P> + +<P> +The direct, frank surprise of that look disarmed the other. He swept +up the dice-box, and shook it furiously, while his lips stirred. It +was as if he murmured an incantation for success. The dice rolled out, +winking in the light, spun over, and the owner of the gun stood with +both hands braced against the edge of the table, and stared hopelessly +down. +</P> + +<P> +A moment before his pockets had sagged with a precious weight, and +there had been a significant drag of the belt over his right hip. Now +both burdens were gone. +</P> + +<P> +He looked up with a short laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm dry. Who'll stake me to a drink?" +</P> + +<P> +Pierre scooped up a dozen pieces of the gold. +</P> + +<P> +"Here." +</P> + +<P> +The other drew back. +</P> + +<P> +"You're very welcome to it. Here's more, if you'll have it." +</P> + +<P> +"The coin I've lost to you? Take back a gamblin' debt?" +</P> + +<P> +"Easy there," said one of the men. "Don't you see the kid's green? +Here's a five-spot." +</P> + +<P> +The loser accepted the coin as carelessly as if he were conferring a +favor by taking it, cast another scowl in the direction of Pierre, and +went out toward the bar. Pierre, very hot in the face, pocketed his +winnings and belted on the gun. It hung low on his thigh, just in easy +gripping distance of his hand, and he fingered the butt with a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"The kid's feelin' most a man," remarked a sarcastic voice. "Say, kid, +why don't you try your luck with Mac Hurley? He's almost through with +poor, old Cochrane." +</P> + +<P> +Following the direction of the pointing finger, Pierre saw one of those +mute tragedies of the gambling hall. Cochrane, an old cattleman whose +carefully trimmed, pointed white beard and slender, tapering fingers +set him apart from the others in the room, was rather far gone with +liquor. He was still stiffly erect in his chair, and would be till the +very moment consciousness left him, but his eyes were misty, and when +he spoke the fine-cut lips moved slowly, as though numbed by cold. +</P> + +<P> +Beside him stood a tall, black bottle with a little whisky glass to +flank it. He made his bets with apparent carelessness, but with a real +and deepening gloom. Once or twice he glanced up sharply as though +reckoning his losses, though it seemed to Pierre le Rouge almost like +an appeal. +</P> + +<P> +And what appeal could affect Mac Hurley? There was no color in the +man, either body or soul. No emotion could show in those pale, small +eyes or change the color of the flabby cheeks. If his hands had been +cut off he might have seemed some sodden victim of a drug habit, but +the hands saved him. +</P> + +<P> +They seemed to belong to another body—beautiful, swift, and strong, +and grafted by some foul mischance onto this rotten hulk. Very white +they were, and long, with a nervous uneasiness in every motion, +continually hovering around the cards with little touches which were +almost caresses. +</P> + +<P> +"It ain't a game," said the man who had first pointed out the group to +Pierre, "it's just a slaughter. Cochrane's too far gone to see +straight. Look at that deal now! A kid could see that he's crooking +the cards!" +</P> + +<P> +It was Blackjack, and Hurley, as usual, was dealing. He dealt with one +hand, flipping the cards out with a snap of the wrist, the fingers +working rapidly over the pack. Now and then he glanced over to the +crowd, as if to enjoy their admiration of his skill. He was showing it +now, not so much by the deftness of his cheating as by the openness +with which he exposed his tricks. +</P> + +<P> +As the stranger remarked to Pierre, a child could have discovered that +the cards were being dealt at will from the top and the bottom of the +pack, but the gambler was enjoying himself by keeping his game just +open enough to be apparent to every other man in the room—just covert +enough to deceive the drink-misted brain of Cochrane. And the pale, +swinish eyes twinkled as they stared across at the dull sorrow of the +old man. There was an ominous sound from Pierre: +</P> + +<P> +"Do you let a thing like that happen in this country?" he asked +fiercely. +</P> + +<P> +The other turned to him with a sneer. +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Let</I> it happen? Who'll stop him? Say, partner, you ain't meanin' to +say that you don't know who Hurley is?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't need telling. I can see." +</P> + +<P> +"What you can't see means a lot more than what you can. I've been in +the same room when Hurley worked his gun once. It wasn't any killin', +but it was the prettiest bit of cheatin' I ever seen. But even if +Hurley wasn't enough, what about Carl Diaz?" +</P> + +<P> +He glared his triumph at Pierre, but the latter was too puzzled to +quail, and too stirred by the pale, gloomy face of Cochrane to turn +toward the other. +</P> + +<P> +"What of Diaz?" +</P> + +<P> +"Look here, boy. You're a kid, all right, but you ain't that young. +D'you mean to say that you ain't heard of Carlos Diaz?" +</P> + +<P> +It came back to Pierre then, for even into the snow-bound seclusion of +the north country the shadow of the name of Diaz had gone. He could +not remember just what they were, but he seemed to recollect grim tales +through which that name figured. +</P> + +<P> +The other went on: "But if you ain't ever seen him before, look him +over now. They's some says he's faster on the draw than Bob McGurk, +but, of course, that's stretchin' him out a size too much. What's the +matter, kid; you've met McGurk?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, but I'm going to." +</P> + +<P> +"Might even be carried to him, eh—feet first?" +</P> + +<P> +Pierre turned and laid a hand on the shoulder of the other. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't talk like that," he said gently. "I don't like it." +</P> + +<P> +The other reached up to snatch the hand from his shoulder, but he +stayed his arm. +</P> + +<P> +He said after an uncomfortable moment of that silent staring: "Well, +partner, there ain't a hell of a lot to get sore over, is there? You +don't figure you're a mate for McGurk, do you?" +</P> + +<P> +He seemed oddly relieved when the eyes of Pierre moved away from him +and returned to the figure of Carlos Diaz. The Mexican was a perfect +model for a painting of a melodramatic villain. He had waxed and +twirled the end of his black mustache so that it thrust out a little +spur on either side of his long face. His habitual expression was a +scowl; his habitual position was with a cigarette in the fingers of his +left hand, and his right hand resting on his hip. +</P> + +<P> +He sat in a chair directly behind that of Hurley, and Pierre's +new-found acquaintance explained: +</P> + +<P> +"He's the bodyguard for Hurley. Maybe there's some who could down +Hurley in a straight gun fight; maybe there's one or two like McGurk +that could down Diaz—damn his yellow hide—but there ain't no one can +buck the two of 'em. It ain't in reason. So they play the game +together. Hurley works the cards and Diaz covers up the retreat. +Can't beat that, can you?" +</P> + +<P> +Pierre le Rouge slipped his left hand once more Inside his shirt until +the fingers touched the cross. +</P> + +<P> +"Nevertheless, that game has to stop." +</P> + +<P> +"Who'll—say, kid, are you stringin' me, or are you drunk? Look me in +the eye!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +FEAR +</H3> + + +<P> +Pierre turned and looked calmly upon the other. +</P> + +<P> +And the man whispered in a sort of awe: "Well, I'll be damned!" +</P> + +<P> +"Stand aside!" +</P> + +<P> +The other fell back a pace, and Pierre went straight to the table and +said to Cochrane: "Sir, I have come to take you home." +</P> + +<P> +The old man looked up and rubbed his eyes as though waking from a sleep. +</P> + +<P> +"Stand back from the table!" warned Hurley. +</P> + +<P> +"By the Lord, have they been missing me?" queried old Cochrane. +</P> + +<P> +"You are waited for," answered Pierre le Rouge, "and I've been sent to +take you home." +</P> + +<P> +"If that's the case—" +</P> + +<P> +"It ain't the case. The kid's lying." +</P> + +<P> +"Lying?" repeated Cochrane, as if he had never heard the word before, +and he peered with clearing eyes toward Pierre. "No, I think this boy +has never lied." +</P> + +<P> +Silence had spread through the place like a vapor. Even the slight +sounds in the gaming-room were done now, and one pair after another of +eyes swung toward the table of Cochrane and Hurley. The wave of the +silence reached to the barroom. No one could have carried the tidings +so soon, but the air was surcharged with the consciousness of an +impending crisis. +</P> + +<P> +Half a dozen men started to make their way on tiptoe toward the back +room. One stood with his whisky glass suspended in mid air, and tilted +back his head to listen. In the gaming-room Hurley pushed back his +chair and leaned to the left, giving him a free sweep for his right +hand. The Mexican smiled with a slow and deep content. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," answered Pierre, "but I am waiting still, sir." +</P> + +<P> +The left hand of Hurley played impatiently on the table. +</P> + +<P> +He said: "Of course, if you have enough—" +</P> + +<P> +"I—enough?" flared the old aristocrat. +</P> + +<P> +Pierre le Rouge turned fairly upon Hurley. +</P> + +<P> +"In the name of God," he said calmly, and God on his lips was as gentle +as music, "make an end of your game. You're playing for money, but I +think this man is playing for his eternal soul." +</P> + +<P> +The solemn, bookish phraseology came smoothly from his tongue. He knew +no other. It drew a murmur of amusement from the room and a snarl from +Hurley. +</P> + +<P> +"Put on skirts, kid, and join the Salvation Army, but don't get +yourself messed all up in here. This is my party, and I'm damned +particular who I invite! Now, run along!" +</P> + +<P> +The head of Pierre tilted back, and he burst into laughter which +troubled even Hurley. +</P> + +<P> +The gambler blurted: "What's happening to you, kid?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've been making a lot of good resolutions, Mr. Hurley, about keeping +out of trouble; but here I am in it up to the neck." +</P> + +<P> +"No trouble as long as you keep your hand out of another man's game, +kid." +</P> + +<P> +"That's it. I can't see you rob Mr. Cochrane like this. You aren't +gambling—you're digging gold. The game stops now." +</P> + +<P> +It was a moment before the crowd realized what was about to happen; +they saw it reflected first in the face of Hurley, which suddenly went +taut and pale, and then, even as they looked with a smile of curiosity +and derision toward Pierre le Rouge, they saw and understood. +</P> + +<P> +For the moment Pierre said, "The game stops now," the calm which had +been with him was gone. It was like the scent of blood to the starved +wolf. The last word was scarcely off his tongue when he was crouched +with a devil of green fury in his eyes—the light struck his hair into +a wave of flame—his face altered by a dozen ugly years. +</P> + +<P> +"D'you mean?" whispered Hurley, as if he feared to break the silence +with his full voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Get out of the room." +</P> + +<P> +And the impulse of Hurley, plainly enough, was to obey the order, and +go anywhere to escape from that relentless stare. His glance wavered +and flashed around the circle and then back to Red Pierre, for the +expectancy and the alertness of all the crowd forced him back. +</P> + +<P> +When the leader of the pack springs and fails to kill, the rest of the +pack tear him to pieces. Remembering this, Mac Hurley forced his +glance back to Pierre. Moreover, there was a soft voice from behind, +and he remembered Diaz. +</P> + +<P> +All this had taken place in the length of time that it takes a heavy +body to totter on the brink of a precipice or a cat to regain its feet +after a fall. After the voice of Diaz there was a sway through the +room, a pulse of silence, and then three hands shot for their +hips—Pierre, Diaz, and Hurley. +</P> + +<P> +No stop-watch could have caught the differing lengths of time which +each required for the draw. The muzzle of Hurley's revolver was not +clear of the holster—the gun of Diaz was nearly at the level when +Pierre's weapon exploded at his hip. The bullet cut through the wrist +of Hurley. Never again would that slender, supple hand fly over the +cards, doing things other than they seemed. He made no effort to +escape from the next bullet, but stood looking down at his broken +wrist; horror for the moment gave him a dignity oddly out of place with +his usual appearance. He alone in all the room was moveless. +</P> + +<P> +The crowd, undecided for an instant, broke for the doors at the first +shot; Pierre le Rouge, pitched to the floor as Diaz leaped forward, the +revolver in either hand spitting lead and fire. +</P> + +<P> +It was no bullet that downed Pierre but his own cunning. He broke his +fall with an outstretched left hand, while the bullets of Diaz pumped +into the void space which his body had filled a moment before. +</P> + +<P> +Lying there at ease, he leveled the revolver, grinning with the +mirthless lust of battle, and fired over the top of the table. The +guns dropped from the hands of huge Diaz. He caught at his throat and +staggered back the full length of the room, crashing against the wall. +When he pitched forward on his face he was dead before he struck the +floor. +</P> + +<P> +Pierre, now Red Pierre, indeed, rose and ran to the fallen man, and, +looking at the bulk of the giant, he wondered with a cold heart. He +knew before he slipped his hand over the breast of Diaz that this was +death. Then he rose again and watched the still fingers which seemed +to be gripping at the boards. +</P> + +<P> +These he saw, and nothing else, and all he heard was the rattling of +the wind of winter, wrenching at some loose shingle on the roof, and he +knew that he was alone in the world, for he had put out a life. +</P> + +<P> +He found a strange weight pulling down his right hand, and started when +he saw the revolver. He replaced it in the holster automatically, and +in so doing touched the barrel and found it warm. +</P> + +<P> +Then fear came to Pierre, the first real fear of his life. He jerked +his head high and looked about him. The room was utterly empty. He +tiptoed to the door and found even the long bar deserted, littered with +tall bottles and overturned glasses. The cold in his heart increased. +A moment before he had been hand in hand with all the mirth in that +place. +</P> + +<P> +Now the men whose laughter he had repeated with smiles, the men against +whose sleeves his elbow had touched, were further away from him than +they had been when all the snow-covered miles from Morgantown to the +school of Father Victor had laid between them. They were men who might +lose themselves in any crowd, but he was set apart with a brand, even +as Hurley and Diaz had been set apart that eventful evening. +</P> + +<P> +He had killed a man. That fact blotted out the world. He drew his gun +again and stole down the length of the bar. Once he stopped and poised +the weapon before he realized that the white, fierce face that squinted +at him was his own reflection in a mirror. +</P> + +<P> +Outside the door the free wind caught at his face, and he blessed it in +his heart, as if it had been the touch of the hand of a friend. Beyond +the long, dark, silent street the moon rose and passed up through the +safe, dark spaces of the sky. +</P> + +<P> +He must move quickly now. The pursuit was not yet organized, but it +would begin in a space of minutes. From the group of half a dozen +horses which stood before the saloon he selected the best—a tall, +raw-boned nag with an ugly head. Into the saddle he swung, wondering +faintly that the theft of a horse mattered so little to him. His was +the greatest sin. All other things mattered nothing. +</P> + +<P> +Down the long street he galloped. The sharp echoes flew out at him +from every unlighted house, but not a human being was in sight. So he +swung out onto the long road which wound up through the hills, and +beside him rode a grim brotherhood, the invisible fellowship of Cain. +</P> + +<P> +The moon rose higher, brighter, and a grotesque black shadow galloped +over the snow beside him. He turned his head sharply to the other side +and watched the sweep of white hills which reached back in range after +range until they blended with the shadows of night. +</P> + +<P> +The road faded to a bridle path, and this in turn he lost among the +windings of the valley. He was lost from even the traces of men, and +yet the fear of men pursued him. Fear, and yet with it there was a +thrill of happiness, for every swinging stride of the tall, wild roan +carried him deeper into freedom, the unutterable fierce freedom of the +hunted. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE VOICE IN THE STORM +</H3> + + +<P> +All life was tame compared with this sudden awakening of Pierre, for +his whole being burst into flower, his whole nature opened. He had +killed a man. For fear of it he raced the tall roan furiously through +the night. +</P> + +<P> +He had killed a man. For the joy of it his head was high, he shouted a +song that went ringing across the blank, white hills. What place was +there in Red Pierre for solemn qualms of conscience? Had he not met +the first and last test triumphantly? The oldest instinct in creation +was satisfied in him. Now he stood ready to say to all the world: +Behold, a man! +</P> + +<P> +Let it be remembered that his early years had been passed in a dull, +dun silence, and time had slipped by him with softly padding, +uneventful hours. Now, with the rope of restraint snapped, he rode at +the world with hands, palm upward, asking for life, and that life which +lies under the hills of the mountain-desert heard his question and sent +a cold, sharp echo back to answer his lusty singing. +</P> + +<P> +The first answer, as he plunged on, not knowing where, and not caring, +was when the roan reeled suddenly and flung forward to the ground. +Even that violent stop did not unseat Red Pierre. He jerked up on the +reins with a curse and drove in the spurs. Valiantly the horse reared +his shoulders up, but when he strove to rise the right foreleg dangled +helplessly. He had stepped in some hole and the bone was broken +cleanly across. +</P> + +<P> +The rider slipped from the saddle and stood facing the roan, which +pricked its ears forward and struggled once more to regain its feet. +The effort was hopeless, and Pierre took the broken leg and felt the +rough edges of the splintered bone through the skin. The animal, as if +it sensed that the man was trying to do it some good, nosed his +shoulder and whinnied softly. +</P> + +<P> +Pierre stepped back and drew his revolver. The bullet would do quickly +what the cold would accomplish after lingering hours of torture, yet, +facing those pricking ears and the brave trust of the eyes, he was +blinded by a mist and could not aim. He had to place the muzzle of the +gun against the roan's temple and pull the trigger. When he turned his +back he was the only living thing within the white arms of the hills. +</P> + +<P> +Yet, when the next hill was behind him, he had already forgotten the +second life which he put out that night, for regret is the one sorrow +which never dodges the footsteps of the hunted. Like all his +brotherhood of Cain, Pierre le Rouge pressed forward across the +mountain-desert with his face turned toward the brave to-morrow. In +the evening of his life, if he should live to that time, he would walk +and talk with God. +</P> + +<P> +Now he had no mind save for the bright day coming. +</P> + +<P> +He had been riding with the wind and had scarcely noticed its violence +in his headlong course. Now he felt it whipping sharply at his back +and increasing with each step. Overhead the sky was clear, pitilessly +clear. It seemed to give vision for the wind and cold to seek him out, +and the moon made his following shadow long and black across the snow. +</P> + +<P> +The wind quickened rapidly to a gale that cut off the surface of the +snow and whipped volleys of the small particles level with the surface. +It cut the neck of Red Pierre, and the gusts struck his shoulders with +staggering force like separate blows, twisting him a little from side +to side. +</P> + +<P> +Coming from the direction of Morgantown, it seemed as if the vengeance +for Diaz was following the slayer. Once he turned and laughed hard and +short in the teeth of the wind, and shook his fist back at Morgantown +and all the avenging powers of the law. +</P> + +<P> +Yet he was glad to turn away from the face of the storm and stride on +down-wind. Even traveling with the gale grew more and more impossible. +The snowdrifts which the wind picked up and hurried across the hills +pressed against Pierre's back like a great, invisible hand, bowing him +as if beneath a burden. In the hollows the labor was not so great, but +when he approached a summit the gale screamed in his ear and struck him +savagely. +</P> + +<P> +For all his optimism, for all his young, undrained strength, a doubt +began to grow in the mind of Pierre le Rouge. At length, remembering +how that weight of gold came in his pockets, he slipped his left hand +into the bosom of his shirt and touched the icy metal of the cross. +Almost at once he heard, or thought he heard, a faint, sweet sound of +singing. +</P> + +<P> +The heart of Red Pierre stopped. For he knew the visions which came to +men perishing with cold; but he grew calmer again in a moment. This +touch of cold was nothing compared with whole months of hard exposure +which he had endured in the northland. It had not the edge. If it +were not for the wind it was scarcely a threat to life. Moreover, the +singing sounded no more. It had been hardly more than a phrase of +music, and it must have been a deceptive murmur of the wind. +</P> + +<P> +After all, a gale brought wilder deceptions than that. Some men had +actually heard voices declaiming words in such a wind. He himself had +heard them tell their stories. So he leaned forward again and gave his +stanch heart to the task. Yet once more he stopped, for this time the +singing came clearly, sweetly to him. +</P> + +<P> +There was no doubt of it now. Of course it was wildly impossible, +absurd; but beyond all question he heard the voice of a woman, high and +tender, come whistling down the wind. He could almost catch the words. +For a little moment he lingered still. Then he turned and fought his +way into the strong arms of the storm. +</P> + +<P> +Every now and then he paused and crouched to the snow. Usually there +was only the shriek of the wind in his ears, but a few times the +singing came to him and urged him on. If he had allowed the idea of +failure to enter his mind, he must have given up the struggle, but +failure was a stranger to his thoughts. +</P> + +<P> +He lowered his head against the storm. Sometimes it caught under him +and nearly lifted him from his feet. But he clung against the slope of +the hill, sometimes gripping hard with his hands. So he worked his way +to the right, the sound of the singing coming more and more frequently +and louder and louder. When he was almost upon the source of the music +it ceased abruptly. +</P> + +<P> +He waited a moment, but no sound came. He struggled forward a few more +yards and pitched down exhausted, panting. Still he heard the singing +no longer. With a falling heart he rose and resigned himself to wander +on his original course with the wind, but as he started he placed his +hand once more against the cross, and it was then that he saw her. +</P> + +<P> +For he had simply gone past her, and the yelling of the storm had cut +off the sound of her voice. Now he saw her lying, a spot of bright +color on the snow. He read the story at a glance. As she passed this +steep-sided hill the loosely piled snow had slid down and carried with +it the dead trunk of a fallen tree. +</P> + +<P> +Pierre came from behind and stood over her unnoticed. He saw that the +oncoming tree, by a strange chance, had knocked down the girl and +pinned her legs to the ground. His strength and the strength of a +dozen men would not be sufficient to release her. This he saw at the +first glance, and saw the bright gold of her hair against the snow. +Then he dropped on his knees beside her. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER VIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BELIEF +</H3> + + +<P> +The girl tossed up her arms in a silent ecstasy, and Pierre caught the +small cold hands and saw that she was only a child of twelve or +fourteen, lovely as only a child can be, and still more beautiful with +the wild storm sweeping over her and the waste of snow around them. +</P> + +<P> +He crouched lower still, and when he did so the strength of the wind +against his face decreased wonderfully, for the sharp angle of the +hill's declivity protected them. Seeing him kneel there, helpless with +wonder, she cried out with a little wail: "Help me—the tree—help me!" +And, bursting into a passion of sobbing, she tugged her hands from his +and covered her face. +</P> + +<P> +Pierre placed his shoulder under the trunk and lifted till the muscles +of his back snapped and cracked. He could not budge the weight; he +could not even send a tremor through the mass of wood; He dropped back +beside her with a groan. He felt her eyes upon him; she had ceased her +sobs, and looked steadily, gravely, into his face. +</P> + +<P> +It would have been easy for him to meet that look on the morning of +this day, but after that night's work in Morgantown he had to brace his +nerve mightily to withstand it. +</P> + +<P> +She said: "You can't budge the tree?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—in a minute; I will try again." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll only hurt yourself for nothing. I saw how you strained at it." +</P> + +<P> +The greatest miracle he had ever seen was her calm. Her eyes were wide +and sorrowful indeed, but she was almost smiling up to him. +</P> + +<P> +After a while he was able to say, in a faint, small voice: "Are you +very cold?" +</P> + +<P> +She answered: "I'm not afraid. But if you stay longer with me, you may +freeze. The snow and even the tree help to keep me almost warm; but +you will freeze. Go for help; hurry, and if you can, send it back to +me." +</P> + +<P> +He thought of the long miles back to Morgantown; no human being could +walk that distance against this wind; not even a strong horse could +make its way through the storm. If he went on with the wind, how long +would it be before he reached a house? Before him, over range after +range of hills, he saw no single sign of a building. If he reached +some such place it would be the same story as the trip to Morgantown; +men simply could not beat a way against that wind. +</P> + +<P> +Then a cold hand touched his, and he looked up to find her eyes grave +and wide once more, and her lips half smiling, as if she strove to +deceive him. +</P> + +<P> +"There's no chance of bringing help?" +</P> + +<P> +He merely stared hungrily at her, and the loveliest thing he had ever +seen was the play of golden hair beside her cheek. Her smile went out. +She withdrew her hand, but she repeated: +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not afraid. I'll simply grow numb and then fall asleep. But you +go on and save yourself." +</P> + +<P> +Seeing him shake his head, she caught his hands again, and so strongly +that the chill of her touch filled his veins with an icy fire. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll be unhappy. You'll make me so unhappy if you stay. Please go." +</P> + +<P> +He raised the small, white hand and pressed it to his lips. +</P> + +<P> +She said: "You are crying!" +</P> + +<P> +"No, no!" +</P> + +<P> +"There! I see the tears shining on my hand. What is your name?" +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre? I like that name. Pierre, to make me happy, will you go? +Your face is all white and touched with a shadow of blue. It is the +cold. Oh, won't you go?" Then she pleaded, finding him obdurate: "If +you won't go for me, then go for your father." +</P> + +<P> +He raised his head with a sudden laughter, and, raising it, the wind +beat into his face fiercely and the particles of snow whipped his skin. +</P> + +<P> +"Dear Pierre, then for your mother?" +</P> + +<P> +He bowed his head. +</P> + +<P> +"Not for all the people who love you and wait for you now by some warm +fire—some cozy fire, all yellow and bright?" +</P> + +<P> +He took her hands and with them covered his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen: I have no father; I have no mother." +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre! Oh, Pierre, I'm sorry!" +</P> + +<P> +"And for the rest of 'em, I've killed a man. The whole world hates me; +the whole world's hunting me." +</P> + +<P> +The small hands tugged away. He dared not raise his bowed and +miserable head for fear of her eyes. And then the hands came back to +him and touched his face. +</P> + +<P> +She was saying tremulously: "Then he deserved to be killed. There must +be men like that—almost. And I—like you still, Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"Really?" +</P> + +<P> +"I almost think I like you more—because you could kill a man—and then +stay here for me." +</P> + +<P> +"If you were a grown-up girl, do you know what I'd say?" +</P> + +<P> +"Please tell me." +</P> + +<P> +"That I could love you." +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre—" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"My name is Mary Brown." +</P> + +<P> +He repeated several times: "Mary." +</P> + +<P> +"And if I were a grown-up girl, do you know what I would answer?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't dare guess it." +</P> + +<P> +"That I could love you, Pierre, if you were a grown-up man." +</P> + +<P> +"But I am." +</P> + +<P> +"Not a really one." +</P> + +<P> +And they both broke into laughter—happy laughter that died out before +a sound of rushing and of thunder, as a mass slid swiftly past them, +snow and mud and sand and rubble. The wind fell away from them, and +when Pierre looked up he saw that a great mass of tumbled rock and soil +loomed above them. +</P> + +<P> +The landslide had not touched them, by some miracle, but in a moment +more it might shake loose again, and all that mass of ton upon ton of +stone and loam would overwhelm them. The whole mass quaked and +trembled and trembled, and the very hillside shuddered beneath them. +</P> + +<P> +She looked up and saw the coming ruin; but her cry was for him, not +herself. +</P> + +<P> +"Run, Pierre—you can save yourself." +</P> + +<P> +With that terror threatening him from above, he rose and started to run +down the hill. A moan of woe followed him, and he stopped and turned +back, and fought his way through the wind until he was beside her once +more. +</P> + +<P> +She was wringing the white, cold hands and weeping: +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre—I couldn't help it—but when you left me the whole world went +out, and my heart broke. I couldn't help calling out for you; but now +I'm strong again, and I won't have you stay. The whole mountain is +shaking and falling toward us. Go now, Pierre, and I'll never make a +sound to bring you back." +</P> + +<P> +He said: "Hush! I've something here which will keep us both safe. +Look!" +</P> + +<P> +He tore from the chain which held it at his throat the little metal +cross, and held it high overhead, glimmering in the pallid light. She +forgot her fear in wonder. +</P> + +<P> +"I gambled with only one coin to lose, and I came out to-night with +hundreds and hundreds of dollars because I had the cross. It is a +charm against all danger and against all bad fortune. It has never +failed me." +</P> + +<P> +Over them the piled mass slid closer. The forehead of Pierre gleamed +with sweat, but a strong purpose made him talk on. At least he could +take all the foreboding of death from the child, and when the end came +it would be swift and wipe them both out at one stroke. She clung to +him, eager to believe. +</P> + +<P> +"I've closed my eyes so that I can believe." +</P> + +<P> +"It has never failed me. It saved me once when I fought a big bobcat +with only a knife. It saved me again when I fought two men. Both of +them were famous fighters, but neither of them had the cross. One of +them I crippled and the other died. You see, the power of the cross is +as great as that. Do you doubt it now, Mary?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you believe in it so much—really—Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +Each time there was a little lowering of her voice, a little pause and +caress in the tone as she uttered his name, and nothing in all his life +had stirred Red Pierre so deeply with happiness and sorrow. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you believe, Pierre?" she repeated. +</P> + +<P> +He looked up and saw the shuddering mass of the landslide creeping upon +them inch by inch. In another moment it would loose itself with a rush +and cover them. +</P> + +<P> +"I believe," he said. +</P> + +<P> +"If you should live, and I should die—" +</P> + +<P> +"I would throw the cross away." +</P> + +<P> +"No, you would keep it; and every time it touched cold against your +breast you would think of me, Pierre, would you not?" +</P> + +<P> +"When you reach out to me like that, you sort of take my heart between +your hands." +</P> + +<P> +"And when you look at me like that I feel grown-up and sad and happy +both together. But, listen, Pierre, I know why I cannot die now. God +means us to be so happy together, doesn't He? Because after we've been +together on such a night, how can we ever be apart again?" +</P> + +<P> +The mass of the landslide toppled right above them. She did not seem +to see. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course we never can be." +</P> + +<P> +"But we'll be like a brother and sister and something more." +</P> + +<P> +"And something more, Mary." +</P> + +<P> +She clapped her hands and laughed. The laughter hurt him more than her +sobbing, for as she lay wrapped in her thick furs, even the pale, cold +light could not make her pallid. +</P> + +<P> +The blowing hair was as warm as yellow sunshine to the heart of Pierre +le Rouge, and the color of her cheeks was as dear to him as the early +flowers of spring in the northland. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm so happy, Pierre. I was never so happy." +</P> + +<P> +And he said, with his eyes on the approaching ruin: +</P> + +<P> +"It was your singing that brought me to you. Will you sing again?" +</P> + +<P> +"I sang because I knew that when I sang the sound would carry farther +through the wind than if I called for help. What shall I sing for you +now, Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +"What you sang when I came to you." +</P> + +<P> +And the light, sweet voice rose easily through the sweep of the wind. +She smiled as she sang, and the smile and music were all for Pierre, he +knew, and all the pathos of the climax was for him; but through the +last stanza of the song the rumble of the approaching death grew +louder, and as she ended he threw himself beside her and gathered her +into protecting arms. +</P> + +<P> +She cried: "Pierre! What is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I must keep you warm; the snow will eat away your strength." +</P> + +<P> +"No; it's more than that. Tell me, Pierre! You don't trust the power +of the cross?" +</P> + +<P> +"Are you afraid?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no; I'm not afraid, Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"If one life would be enough, I'd give mine a thousand times. Mary, we +are to die." +</P> + +<P> +A small arm slipped around his neck—a cold hand pressed against his +cheek. +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +The thunder broke above them with a mighty roaring. +</P> + +<P> +"You have no fear." +</P> + +<P> +"Mary, if I had died alone I would have dropped down to hell under my +sins; but, with your arm around me, you'll take me with you. Hold me +close." +</P> + +<P> +"With all my heart, Pierre. See—I'm not afraid. It is like going to +sleep. What wonderful dreams we'll have!" +</P> + +<P> +And then the black mass of the landslide swept upon them. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER IX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +RIDERS OF THE SILENCES +</H3> + + +<P> +Down all the length of the mountain-desert and across its width of +rocks and mountains and valleys and stern plateaus there is a saying: +"You can tell a man by the horse he rides." For most other important +things are apt to go by opposites, which is the usual way in which a +man selects his wife. With dogs, for instance—a quiet man is apt to +want an active dog, and a tractable fellow may keep the most vicious of +wolf-dogs. +</P> + +<P> +But when it comes to a horse, a man's heart speaks for itself, and if +he has sufficient knowledge of the king of beasts he will choose a +sympathetic mount. A dainty woman loves a neat-stepping saddle-horse; +a philosopher likes a nodding, stumble-footed nag which will jog all +day long and care not a whit whether it goes up dale or down. +</P> + +<P> +To know the six wild riders who galloped over the white reaches of the +mountain-desert this night, certainly their horses should be studied +first and the men secondly, for the one explained the other. +</P> + +<P> +They came in a racing triangle. Even the storm at its height could not +daunt such furious riders. At the point of the triangle thundered a +mighty black stallion, his muzzle and his broad chest flecked with +white foam, for he stretched his head out and champed at the bit with +ears laid flat back, as though even that furious pace gave him no +opportunity to use fully his strength. +</P> + +<P> +He was no cleanly cut beauty, but an ugly headed monster with a +savagely hooked Roman nose and small, keen eyes, always red at the +corners. A medieval baron in full panoply of plate armor would have +chosen such a charger among ten thousand steeds, yet the black stallion +needed all his strength to uphold the unarmored giant who bestrode him, +a savage figure. +</P> + +<P> +When the broad brim of his hat flapped up against the wind the +moonshine caught at shaggy brows, a cruelly arched nose, thin, straight +lips, and a forward-thrusting jaw. It seemed as if nature had hewn him +roughly and designed him for a primitive age where he could fight his +way with hands and teeth. +</P> + +<P> +This was Jim Boone. To his right and a little behind him galloped a +riderless horse, a beautiful young animal continually tossing its head +and looking as if for guidance at the big stallion. +</P> + +<P> +To the left strode a handsome bay with pricking ears. A mound +interfered with his course, and he cleared it in magnificent style that +would have brought a cheer from the lips of any English lover of the +chase. +</P> + +<P> +Straight in the saddle sat Dick Wilbur, and he raised his face a little +to the wind, smiling faintly as if he rejoiced in its fine strength, as +handsome as the horse he rode, as cleanly cut, as finely bred. The +moon shone a little brighter on him than on any others of the six stark +riders. +</P> + +<P> +Bud Mansie behind, for instance, kept his head slightly to one side and +cursed beneath his breath at the storm and set his teeth at the wind. +His horse, delicately formed, with long, slender legs, could not have +endured that charge against the storm save that it constantly edged +behind the leaders and let them break the wind. It carried less weight +than any other mount of the six, and its strength was cunningly nursed +by the rider so that it kept its place, and at the finish it would be +as strong as any and swifter, perhaps, for a sudden, short effort, just +as Bud Mansie might be numbed through all his nervous, slender body, +but never too numb for swift and deadly action. +</P> + +<P> +On the opposite wing of the flying wedge galloped a dust-colored gray, +ragged of mane and tail, and vindictive of eye, like its down-headed +rider, who shifted his glance rapidly from side to side and watched the +ground closely before his horse as if he were perpetually prepared for +danger. +</P> + +<P> +He distrusted the very ground over which his mount strode. For all +this he seemed the least formidable of all the riders. To see him pass +none could have suspected that this was Black Morgan Gandil. +</P> + +<P> +Last of the crew came two men almost as large as Jim Boone himself, on +strong steady-striding horses. They came last in this crew, but among +a thousand other long-riders they would have ridden first, either +red-faced, good-humored, loud-voiced Garry Patterson, or Phil Branch, +stout-handed, blunt of jaw, who handled men as he had once hammered red +iron at the forge. +</P> + +<P> +Each of them should have ridden alone in order to be properly +appreciated. To see them together was like watching a flock of eagles +every one of which should have been a solitary lord of the air. But +after scanning that lordly train which followed, the more terrible +seemed the rider of the great black horse. +</P> + +<P> +Yet the king was sad, and the reason for his sadness was the riderless +horse which galloped so freely beside him. His son had ridden that +horse when they set out, and all the way down to the railroad Handsome +Hal Boone had kept his mount prancing and curveting and had ridden +around and around tall Dick Wilbur, playing pranks, and had teased his +father's black until the big stallion lashed out wildly with furious +heels. +</P> + +<P> +It was the memory of this that kept the grave shadow of a smile on the +father's lips for all the sternness of his eyes. He never turned his +head, for, looking straight forward, he could conjure up the laughing +vision; but when he glanced to the empty saddle he heard once more the +last unlucky shot fired from the train as they raced off with their +booty, and saw Hal reel in his saddle and pitch forward; and how he had +tried to check his horse and turn back; and how big Dick Wilbur, and +Patterson, and mighty-handed Phil Branch had forced him to go on and +leave that form lying motionless on the snow. +</P> + +<P> +At that he groaned, and spurred the black, and so the cavalcade rushed +faster and faster through the night. +</P> + +<P> +They came over a sharp ridge and veered to the side just in time, for +all the further slope was a mass of treacherous sand and rubble and raw +rocks and mud, where a landslide had stripped the hill to the stone. +</P> + +<P> +As they veered about the ruin and thundered on down to the foot of the +hill, Jim Boone threw up his hand for a signal and brought his stallion +to a halt on back-braced, sliding legs. +</P> + +<P> +For a metallic glitter had caught his eye, and then he saw, half +covered by the pebbles and dirt, the figure of a man. He must have +been struck by the landslide and not overwhelmed by it, but rather +carried before it like a stick in a rush of water. At the outermost +edge of the wave he lay with the rocks and dirt washed over him. Boone +swung from the saddle and lifted Pierre le Rouge. +</P> + +<P> +The gleam of metal was the cross which his fingers still gripped. +Boone examined it with a somewhat superstitious caution, took it from +the nerveless fingers, and slipped it into a pocket of Pierre's shirt. +A small cut on the boy's forehead showed where the stone struck which +knocked him senseless, but the cut still bled—a small trickle—Pierre +lived. He even stirred and groaned and opened his eyes, large and +deeply blue. +</P> + +<P> +It was only an instant before they closed, but Boone had seen. He +turned with the figure lifted easily in his arms as if Pierre had been +a child fallen asleep by the hearth and now about to be carried off to +bed. +</P> + +<P> +And the outlaw said: "I've lost my boy to-night. This here one was +given me by the will of—God." +</P> + +<P> +Black Morgan Gandil reined his horse close by, leaned to peer down, and +the shadow of his hat fell across the face of Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +"There's no good comes of savin' shipwrecked men. Leave him where you +found him, Jim. That's my advice. Sidestep a red-headed man. That's +what I say." +</P> + +<P> +The quick-stepping horse of Bud Mansie came near, and the rider wiped +his blue, stiff lips, and spoke from the side of his mouth, a prison +habit of the line that moves in the lock-step: "Take it from me, Jim, +there ain't any place in our crew for a man you've picked up without +knowing him beforehand. Let him lay, I say." +</P> + +<P> +But big Dick Wilbur was already leading up the horse of Hal Boone, and +into the saddle Jim Boone swung the inert body of Pierre. The argument +was settled, for every man of them knew that nothing could turn Boone +back from a thing once begun. Yet there were muttered comments that +drew Black Morgan Gandil and Bud Mansie together. +</P> + +<P> +And Gandil, from the South Seas, growled with averted eyes: +</P> + +<P> +"This is the most fool stunt the chief has ever pulled." +</P> + +<P> +"Right, pal," answered Mansie. "You take a snake in out of the cold, +and it bites you when it comes to in the warmth; but the chief has +started, and there ain't nothing that'll make him stop, except maybe +God or McGurk." +</P> + +<P> +And Black Gandil answered with his evil, sudden grin: "Maybe McGurk, +but not God." +</P> + +<P> +They started on again with Garry Patterson and Dick Wilbur riding close +on either side of Pierre, supporting his limp body. It delayed the +whole gang, for they could not go on faster than a jog-trot. The wind, +however, was falling off in violence. Its shrill whistling ceased, at +length, and they went on, accompanied only by the harsh crunching of +the snow underfoot. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER X +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE GUARD +</H3> + + +<P> +Consciousness returned to Pierre like the light of the rising moon +which breaks dimly through the window and makes all the objects in a +room grotesquely large and blackly shadowed. Many a time his eyes +opened, and he saw nothing, but when he did see and hear it was by +vague glimpses. +</P> + +<P> +He heard the crying crunch of the snow underfoot; he heard the panting +and snorting of the horses; he felt the swing and jolt of the saddle +beneath him; he saw the grim faces of the long-riders, and he said: +"The law has taken me." +</P> + +<P> +Thereafter he let his will lapse, and surrendered to the sleepy +numbness which assailed his brain in waves. He was riding without +support by this time, but it was an automatic effort. There was no +more real life in him than in a dummy figure. It was not the effect of +the blow. It was rather the long exposure and the over-exertion of +nerves and mind and body during the evening and night. He had simply +collapsed beneath the strain. +</P> + +<P> +But an old army man has said: "Give me a soldier of eighteen or twenty. +In a single day he may not march quite so far as a more mature man or +carry quite so much weight. He will go to sleep each night dead to the +world. But in the morning he awakens a new man. He is like a slate +from which all the writing has been erased. He is ready for a new day +and a new world. Thirty days of campaigning leaves him as strong and +fresh as ever. +</P> + +<P> +"Thirty days of campaigning leaves the old soldier a wreck. Why? +Because as a man grows older he loses the ability to sleep soundly. He +carries the nervous strain of one day over to the next. Life is a +serious problem to a man over thirty. To a man under thirty it is +simply a game. For my part, give me men who can play at war." +</P> + +<P> +So it was with Pierre le Rouge. He woke with a faint heaviness of +head, and stretched himself. There were many sore places, but nothing +more. He looked up, and the slant winter sun cut across his face and +made a patch of bright yellow on the wall beside him. +</P> + +<P> +Next he heard a faint humming, and, turning his head, saw a boy of +fourteen or perhaps a little more, busily cleaning a rifle in a way +that betokened the most expert knowledge of the weapon. Pierre himself +knew rifles as a preacher knows his Bible, and as he lay half awake and +half asleep he smiled with enjoyment to see the deft fingers move here +and there, wiping away the oil. A green hand will spend half a day +cleaning a gun, and then do the work imperfectly; an expert does the +job efficiently in ten minutes. This was an expert. +</P> + +<P> +Undoubtedly this was a true son of the mountain desert. He wore his +old slouch hat even in the house, and his skin was that olive brown +which comes from many years of exposure to the wind and sun. At the +same time there was a peculiar fineness about the boy. His feet were +astonishingly small and the hands thin and slender for all their supple +strength. And his neck was not bony, as it is in most youths at this +gawky age, but smoothly rounded. +</P> + +<P> +Men grow big of bone and sparse of flesh in the mountain desert. It +was the more surprising to Pierre to see this young fellow with the +marvelously delicate-cut features. By some freak of nature here was a +place where the breed ran to high blood. +</P> + +<P> +The cleaning completed, the boy tossed the butt of the gun to his +shoulder and squinted down the barrel. Then he loaded the magazine, +weighted the gun deftly at the balance, and dropped the rifle across +his knees. +</P> + +<P> +"Morning," said Pierre le Rouge cheerily, and swung off the bunk to the +floor. "How old's the gun?" +</P> + +<P> +The boy, without the slightest show of excitement, snapped the butt to +his shoulder and drew a bead on Pierre's breast. +</P> + +<P> +"Sit down before you get all heated up," said a musical voice. +"There's nobody waiting for you on horseback." +</P> + +<P> +And Pierre sat down, partly because Western men never argue a point +when that little black hole is staring them in the face, partly because +he remembered with a rush that the last time he had fully possessed his +consciousness he had been lying in the snow with the cross gripped hard +and the toppling mass of the landslide above him. All that had +happened between was blotted from his memory. He fumbled at his +throat. The cross was not there. He touched his pockets. +</P> + +<P> +"Ease your hands away from your hip," said the cold voice of the boy, +who had dropped his gun to the ready with a significant finger curled +around the trigger, "or I'll drill you clean." +</P> + +<P> +Pierre obediently raised his hands to the level of his shoulders. The +boy sneered, and a light of infinite scorn blazed into those great +black eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"This isn't a hold-up," he explained. "Put 'em down again, but watch +yourself." +</P> + +<P> +The sneer varied to a contemptuous smile. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess you're tame, all right." +</P> + +<P> +"Point that gun another way, will you, son?" +</P> + +<P> +The boy started and flushed a little. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't call me son." +</P> + +<P> +"Is this a lockup—a jail?" +</P> + +<P> +"This?" +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, then? The last I remember I was lying in the snow with—" +</P> + +<P> +"I wish to God you'd been let there," said the boy bitterly. +</P> + +<P> +But Pierre, overwhelmed with the endeavor to recollect, rushed on with +his questions and paid no heed to the tone. +</P> + +<P> +"I had a cross in my hand—" +</P> + +<P> +The scorn of the boy grew to mighty proportions. +</P> + +<P> +"It's there in the breast-pocket of your shirt." +</P> + +<P> +Pierre drew out the little cross, and the touch of it against his palm +restored whatever of his strength was lacking. Very carefully he +attached it to the chain about his throat. Then he looked up to the +contempt of the boy, and as he did so another memory burst on him and +brought him to his feet. The gun went to the boy's shoulders at the +same time. +</P> + +<P> +"When I was found—was any one else with me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nope." +</P> + +<P> +"What happened?" +</P> + +<P> +"Must have been buried in the landslide. Half a hill caved in, and the +dirt rolled you down to the bottom. Plain luck, that's all, that kept +you from going out." +</P> + +<P> +"Luck?" said Pierre and he laid his hand against his breast where he +could feel the outline of the cross. "Yes, I suppose it was luck. And +she—" +</P> + +<P> +He sat down slowly and buried his face in his hands. A new tone came +in the voice of the boy. His tone was thrillingly gentle as he asked: +"Was a woman with you?" But Pierre heard only the tone and not the +words. His face was gray when he looked up again, and his voice hard. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me as briefly as you can how I come here, and who picked me up." +</P> + +<P> +"My father and his men. They passed you lying on the snow. They +brought you home." +</P> + +<P> +"Who is your father?" +</P> + +<P> +The boy stiffened and his color rose in pride and defiance. +</P> + +<P> +"My father is Jim Boone." +</P> + +<P> +Instinctively, while he stared, the right hand of Pierre le Rouge crept +toward his hip. +</P> + +<P> +"Keep your hand steady," said the boy. "I got a nervous +trigger-finger. Yeh, dad is pretty well known." +</P> + +<P> +"You're his son?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm Jack Boone." +</P> + +<P> +"But I've heard—tell me, do you look like your father?" +</P> + +<P> +Jack Boone smiled, strove to frown, and then burst into surprisingly +musical laughter. It came in bursts and ripples, and seemed that it +would never end. His merriment ended slowly, for he saw the eyes of +Pierre stare into blank distance, and knew that the man with the red +hair was thinking of the woman whom the landslide had buried. +Something that was partially sympathy and partially curiosity altered +Jack's expression. +</P> + +<P> +After all, it was very difficult to remain hostile in front of the +steady blue eyes of this stranger. +</P> + +<P> +Pierre said gravely: "Why am I under guard?" +</P> + +<P> +Jack was instantly aflame with the old anger. +</P> + +<P> +"Not because I want you here." +</P> + +<P> +"Who does?" +</P> + +<P> +"Dad." +</P> + +<P> +"Put away your pop-gun and talk sense. I won't try to get away until +Jim Boone comes. I only fight men." +</P> + +<P> +Even the anger and grief of the boy could not keep him from smiling in +his peculiarly winning way. +</P> + +<P> +"Just the same I'll keep the shooting-iron handy. Sit still. A gun +don't keep me from talking sense, does it? You're here to take Hal's +place. Hal!" +</P> + +<P> +The little wail told a thousand things, and Pierre, shocked out of the +thought of his own troubles, waited. +</P> + +<P> +"My brother, Hal; he's dead; he died last night, and on the way back +dad found you and brought you to take Hal's place. <I>Hal's</I> place!" +</P> + +<P> +The accent showed how impossible it was that Hal's place could be taken +by any mortal man. +</P> + +<P> +"I got orders to keep you here, but if I was to do what I'd like to do, +I'd give you the best horse on the place and tell you to clear out. +That's me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Then do it." +</P> + +<P> +"And face dad afterward?" +</P> + +<P> +"Tell him I overpowered you. That would be easy; you a slip of a boy, +and me a man." +</P> + +<P> +"Stranger, it goes to show you may have heard of Jim Boone, but you +don't anyways know him. When he orders a thing done he wants it done, +and he don't care how, and he don't ask questions why. He just raises +hell." +</P> + +<P> +"He really expects to keep me here?" +</P> + +<P> +"Expects? He will." +</P> + +<P> +"Going to tie me up?" asked Pierre ironically. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe," answered Jack, overlooking the irony. "Maybe he'll just put +you on my shoulders to guard." +</P> + +<P> +He moved the gun significantly. +</P> + +<P> +"And I can do it." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course. But he would have to let me go some time." +</P> + +<P> +"Not till you'd promised to stick by him. I told him that myself, but +he said that you're young and that he'd teach you to like this life +whether you wanted to or not. Me speaking personally, I agree with +Black Gandil: This is the worst fool thing that dad has ever done. +What do we want with you—in Hal's place!" +</P> + +<P> +And a suggestion of a sob came in Jack's voice, though he set his teeth +to keep it back. +</P> + +<P> +"But I've got a thing to do right away—to-day; it can't wait. +</P> + +<P> +"Give dad your word to come back and he'll let you go. He says you're +the kind that will keep your word. You see, he found you with a cross +in your hand." +</P> + +<P> +And Jack's lips curled again. +</P> + +<P> +It was all absurd, too impossible to be real. The only real things +were the body of white-handed, yellow-haired Mary Brown under the +tumbled rocks and dirt of the landslide, and the body of Martin Ryder +waiting to be placed in that corner plot where the grass grew quicker +than all other grass in the spring of the year. +</P> + +<P> +However, having fallen among madmen, he must use cunning to get away +before the outlaw and his men came back from wherever they had gone. +Otherwise there would be more bloodshed, more play of guns and hum of +lead. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me of Hal," he said, and dropped his elbows on his knees as if he +accepted his fate. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't know you well enough to talk of Hal." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm sorry." +</P> + +<P> +The boy made a little gesture of apology. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess that was a low-down mean thing to say. Sure I'll tell you +about Hal—if I can." +</P> + +<P> +For his lips trembled at the thought of the dead. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me anything you can," said Pierre gently, "because I've got to +try to be like him, haven't I?" +</P> + +<P> +"You could try till rattlers got tame, but it'd take ten like you to +make one like Hal. He was dad's own son—he was my brother." +</P> + +<P> +The sob came openly now, and the tears were a bright mist in the boy's +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"What's your name?" +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre? I suppose I got to learn it." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose so." And he edged farther forward, so that he was sitting +only on the edge of the bunk. +</P> + +<P> +"Please do." And he gathered his feet under him, ready for a spring +forward and a grip at the boy's threatening rifle. +</P> + +<P> +Jack had canted his head a little to one side, smiling faintly for the +joy of the memory. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you ever see a horse that was gentle and yet had never been +ridden, or his spirit broke, Pierre—" +</P> + +<P> +Here Pierre made his leap swift as some bobcat of the northern woods; +his hand whipped out as lightning fast as the striking paw of the lynx, +and the gun was jerked from the hands of Jack. Not before the boy +clutched at it with a cry of horror, but the force of the pull sent him +lurching to the floor and broke his grip. +</P> + +<P> +He was up in an instant, however, and a knife of ugly length glittered +in his hand; as he sprang at Pierre his lips were as white as the teeth +over which they snarled. +</P> + +<P> +Pierre tossed aside the rifle and met the attack bare-handed. Deadly +swift was the thrust of the knife, but compared with the motion of +Pierre it was as slow as tame things are when they are likened to the +wild. +</P> + +<P> +He caught the knife-bearing hand at the wrist and under his grip the +hand loosened its hold and the steel tinkled on the floor. His other +arm caught the body of Jack in a mighty vise. +</P> + +<P> +There was a brief and futile struggle, and a hissing of breath in the +silence till the hat tumbled from the head of Jack and down over the +shoulders streamed a torrent of silken black hair. +</P> + +<P> +Pierre stepped back. This was the meaning, then, of the strangely +small feet and hands and the low music of the voice. It was the body +of a girl that he had held, and his arm still tingled from the +finger-tips to the shoulder. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +JACK GROWS UP +</H3> + + +<P> +It was not fear nor shame that made the eyes of Jacqueline so wide as +she stared past Pierre toward the door. He glanced across his +shoulder, and blocking the entrance to the room, literally filling the +doorway, was the bulk of Jim Boone. +</P> + +<P> +"Seems as if I was sort of steppin' in on a little family party," he +said. "I'm sure glad you two got acquainted so quick. Jack, how did +you and— What the hell's your name, lad?" +</P> + +<P> +"He tricked me, dad, or he would never have got the gun away from me. +This—this Pierre—this beast—he got me to talk of Hal till my eyes +filled up and I couldn't see. Then he stole——" +</P> + +<P> +"The point," said Jim Boone coldly, "is that he got the gun. Run +along, Jack. You ain't so growed up as I was thinkin'. Or hold +on—maybe you're more grown up. Which is it? Are you turnin' into a +woman, Jack?" +</P> + +<P> +She whirled on Pierre in a white fury. +</P> + +<P> +"You see? You see what you've done? He'll never trust me +again—never! Pierre, I hate you. I'll always hate you. And if Hal +were here——" +</P> + +<P> +A storm of sobs and tears cut her short, and she disappeared through +the door. Boone and Pierre stood regarding each other critically. +</P> + +<P> +The boy spoke first: "You're not as big as I expected." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm plenty big; but you're older than I thought." +</P> + +<P> +"Too old for what you want of me. The girl told me what that was." +</P> + +<P> +"Not too old to be made what I want." +</P> + +<P> +And his hands passed through a significant gesture of moulding the +empty air. The boy met his eye dauntlessly. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose," he said, "that I've a pretty small chance of getting away." +</P> + +<P> +"Just about none, Pierre. Come here." +</P> + +<P> +Pierre stepped closer and looked down the hall into another room. +There, about a table, sat the five grimmest riders of the mountain +desert that he had even seen. They were such men as one could judge at +a glance, and Pierre made that instinctive motion for his six-gun. +</P> + +<P> +"The girl," Jim Boone was saying, "kept you pretty busy tryin' to make +a break, and if she could do anything maybe you'd have a pile of +trouble with one of them guardin' you. But if I'd had a good look at +you, lad, I'd never have let Jack take the job of guardin' you." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks," answered Pierre dryly. +</P> + +<P> +"You got reason; I can see that. Here's the point, Pierre. I know +young men because I can remember pretty close what I was at your age. +I wasn't any ladies' lap dog, at that, but time and older men molded me +the way I'm going to mold you. Understand?" +</P> + +<P> +Pierre was nerved for many things, but the last word made him stir. It +roused in him a red-tinged desire to get through the forest of black +beard at the throat of Boone and dim the glitter of those keen eyes. +It brought him also another thought. +</P> + +<P> +Two great tasks lay before him: the burial of his father and the +avenging of him on McGurk. As to the one, he knew it would be childish +madness for him to attempt to bury his father in Morgantown with only +his single hand to hold back the powers of the law or the friends of +the notorious Diaz and crippled Hurley. +</P> + +<P> +And for the other, it was even more vain to imagine that through his +own unaided power he could strike down a figure of such almost +legendary terror as McGurk. The bondage of the gang might be a +terrible thing through the future, but the present need blinded him to +what might come. +</P> + +<P> +He said: "Suppose I stop raising questions or making a fight, but give +you my hand and call myself a member——" +</P> + +<P> +"Of the family? Exactly. If you did that I'd know it was because you +were wantin' something, Pierre, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Two things." +</P> + +<P> +"Lad, I like this way of talk. One—two—you hit quick like a two-gun +man. Well, I'm used to paying high for what I get. What's up?" +</P> + +<P> +"The first——" +</P> + +<P> +"Wait. Can I help you out by myself, or do you need the gang?" +</P> + +<P> +"The gang." +</P> + +<P> +"Then come, and I'll put it up to them. You first." +</P> + +<P> +It was equally courtesy and caution, and Pierre smiled faintly as he +went first through the door. He stood in a moment under the eyes of +five silent men. +</P> + +<P> +The booming voice of Jim Boone pronounced: +</P> + +<P> +"This is Pierre. He'll be one of us if he can get the gang to do two +things. I ask you, will you hear him for me, and then pass on whether +or not you try his game?" +</P> + +<P> +They nodded. There were no greetings to acknowledge the introduction. +They waited, eyeing the youth with distrust. +</P> + +<P> +Pierre eyed them in turn, and then he spoke directly to big Dick Wilbur. +</P> + +<P> +"Here's the first: I want to bury a man in Morgantown and I need help +to do it." +</P> + +<P> +Black Gandil snarled: "You heard me, boys; blood to start with. Who's +the man you want us to put out?" +</P> + +<P> +"He's dead—my father." +</P> + +<P> +They came up straight in their chairs like trained actors rising to a +stage crisis. The snarl straightened on the lips of Black Morgan +Gandil. +</P> + +<P> +"He's lying in his house a few miles out of Morgantown. As he died he +told me that he wanted to be buried in a corner plot in the Morgantown +graveyard. He'd seen the place and counted it for his a good many +years because he said the grass grew quicker there than any other +place, after the snow went." +</P> + +<P> +"A damned good reason," said Garry Patterson. As the idea stuck more +deeply into his imagination he smashed his fist down on the table so +that the crockery on it danced. "A damned good reason, say I!" +</P> + +<P> +"Who's your father?" asked Dick Wilbur, who eyed Pierre more critically +but with less enmity than the rest. +</P> + +<P> +"Martin Ryder." +</P> + +<P> +"A ringer!" cried Bud Mansie, and he leaned forward alertly. "You +remember what I said, Jim?" +</P> + +<P> +"Shut up. Pierre, talk soft and talk quick. We all know Mart Ryder +had only two sons and you're not either of them." +</P> + +<P> +The Northerner grew stiff and as his face grew pale the red mark where +the stone had struck his forehead stood out like a danger signal. +</P> + +<P> +He said slowly: "I'm his son, but not by the mother of those two." +</P> + +<P> +"Was he married twice?" +</P> + +<P> +Pierre was paler still, and there was an uneasy twitching of his right +hand which every man understood. +</P> + +<P> +He barely whispered. "No; damn you!" +</P> + +<P> +But Black Gandil loved evil. +</P> + +<P> +He said, with a marvelously unpleasant smile: "Then she was——" +</P> + +<P> +The voice of Dick Wilbur cut in like the snapping of a whip: "Shut up, +Gandil, you devil!" +</P> + +<P> +There were times when not even Boone would cross Wilbur, and this was +one of them. +</P> + +<P> +Pierre went on: "The reason I can't go to Morgantown is that I'm not +very well liked by some of the men there." +</P> + +<P> +"Why not?" +</P> + +<P> +"When my father died there was no money to pay for his burial. I had +only a half-dollar piece. I went to the town and gambled and won a +great deal. But before I came out I got mixed up with a man called +Hurley, a professional gambler." +</P> + +<P> +"And Diaz?" queried a chorus. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Hurley was hurt in the wrist and Diaz died. I think I'm wanted +in Morgantown." +</P> + +<P> +Out of a little silence came the voice of Black Gandil: "Dick, I'm +thankin' you now for cuttin' me so short a minute ago." +</P> + +<P> +Phil Branch had not spoken, as usual, but now he repeated, with rapt, +far-off eyes: "'Hurley was hurt in the wrist and Diaz died?' Hurley +and Diaz! I played with Hurley, a couple of times." +</P> + +<P> +"Speakin' personal," said Garry Patterson, his red verging toward +purple in excitement, "which I'm ready to go with you down to +Morgantown and bury your father." +</P> + +<P> +"And do it shipshape," added Black Gandil. +</P> + +<P> +"With all the trimmings," said Bud Mansie, "with all Morgantown joinin' +the mournin' voluntarily under cover of our six-guns." +</P> + +<P> +"Wait," said Boone. "What's the second request?" +</P> + +<P> +"That can wait." +</P> + +<P> +"It's a bigger job than this one?" +</P> + +<P> +"Lots bigger." +</P> + +<P> +"And in the mean time?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm your man." +</P> + +<P> +They shook hands. Even Black Gandil rose to take his share in the +ceremony—all save Bud Mansie, who had glanced out the window a moment +before and then silently left the room. A bottle of whiskey was +produced and glasses filled all round. Jim Boone brought in the +seventh chair and placed it at the table. They raised their glasses. +</P> + +<P> +"To the empty chair," said Boone. +</P> + +<P> +They drank, and for the first time in his life, the liquid fire went +down the throat of Pierre. He set down his glass, coughing, and the +others laughed good-naturedly. +</P> + +<P> +"Started down the wrong way?" asked Wilbur. +</P> + +<P> +"It's beastly stuff; first I ever drank." +</P> + +<P> +A roar of laughter answered him. +</P> + +<P> +"Still I got an idea," broke in Jim Boone, "that he's worthy of takin' +the seventh chair. Draw it up lad." +</P> + +<P> +Vaguely it reminded Pierre of a scene in some old play with himself in +the role of the hero signing away his soul to the devil, but an +interruption kept him from taking the chair. There was a racket at the +door—a half-sobbing, half-scolding voice, and the laughter of a man; +then Bud Mansie appeared carrying Jack in spite of her struggles. He +placed her on the floor and held her hands to protect himself from her +fury. +</P> + +<P> +"I glimpsed her through the window," he explained. "She was lining out +for the stable and then a minute later I saw her swing a saddle +onto—what horse d'you think?" +</P> + +<P> +"Out with it." +</P> + +<P> +"Jim's big Thunder. Yep, she stuck the saddle on big black Thunder and +had a rifle in the holster. I saw there was hell brewing somewhere, so +I went out and nabbed her." +</P> + +<P> +"Jack!" called Jim Boone. "What were you started for?" +</P> + +<P> +Bud Mansie released her arms and she stood with them stiffening at her +sides and her small brown fists clenched. +</P> + +<P> +"Hal—he died, and there was nothing but talk about him—nothing done. +You got a live man in Hal's place." +</P> + +<P> +She pointed an accusing finger at Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe he takes his place for you, but he's not my brother—I hate him. +I went out to get another man to make up for Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" +</P> + +<P> +"A dead man. I shoot straight enough for that." +</P> + +<P> +A very solemn silence spread through the room; for every man was +watching in the eyes of the father and daughter the same shining black +devil of wrath. +</P> + +<P> +"Jack, get into your room and don't move out of it till I tell you to. +D'you hear?" +</P> + +<P> +She turned on her heel like a soldier and marched from the room. +</P> + +<P> +"Jack." +</P> + +<P> +She stopped in the door but would not turn back, and still the room, +watching that little tragedy, was breathless. +</P> + +<P> +"Jack, don't you love your old dad any more?" +</P> + +<P> +She whirled and ran to him with outstretched arms and clung to him, +sobbing. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, dad—dear dad," she groaned. "You've broken my heart; you've +broken my heart!" +</P> + +<P> +The others filed softly out of the room and stood bareheaded under the +winter sky. +</P> + +<P> +Bud Mansie, his meager face transformed with wonder, said: "Fellers, +what d'you know about it? Our Jack's grown up." +</P> + +<P> +And Black Gandil answered: "Look at this Pierre frowning at the ground. +It was him that changed her." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE BURIAL +</H3> + + +<P> +The annals of the mountain desert have never been written and can never +be written. They are merely a vast mass of fact and tradition and +imagining which floats from tongue to tongue from the Rockies to the +Sierra Nevadas. A man may be a fact all his life and die only a local +celebrity. Then again, he may strike sparks from that imagination +which runs riot by camp-fires and at the bars of the crossroads saloons. +</P> + +<P> +In that case he becomes immortal. It is not that lies are told about +him or impossible feats ascribed to him, but every detail about him is +seized upon and passed on with a most scrupulous and loving care. +</P> + +<P> +In due time he will become a tradition. That is, he will be known +familiarly at widely separated parts of the range, places which he has +never visited. It has happened to a few of the famous characters of +the mountain desert that they became traditions before their deaths. +It happened to McGurk, of course. It also happened to Red Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +Oddly enough, the tradition of Red Pierre did not begin with his ride +from the school of Father Victor to Morgantown, distant many days of +difficult and dangerous travel. Neither did tradition seize on the gun +fight that crippled Hurley and "put out" wizard Diaz. These things +were unquestionably known to many, but they did not strike the popular +imagination. What set men first on fire was the way Pierre le Rouge +buried his father "at the point of the gun" in Morgantown. +</P> + +<P> +That day Boone's men galloped out of the higher mountains down the +trail toward Morgantown. They stole a wagon out of a ranch stable on +the way and tied two lariats to the tongue. So they towed it, bounding +and rattling, over the rough trail to the house where Martin Ryder lay +dead. +</P> + +<P> +His body was placed in state in the body of the wagon, pillowed with +everything in the line of cloth which the house could furnish. Thus +equipped they went on at a more moderate pace toward Morgantown. +</P> + +<P> +What followed it is useless to repeat here. Tradition rehearsed every +detail of that day's work, and the purpose of this narrative is only to +give the details of some of the events which tradition does not know, +at least in their entirety. +</P> + +<P> +They started at one end of Morgantown's street. Pierre guarded the +wagon in the center of the street and kept the people under cover of +his rifle. The rest of Boone's men cleaned out the houses as they went +and sent the occupants piling out to swell the crowd. +</P> + +<P> +And so they rolled the crowd out of town and to the cemetery, where +"volunteers" dug the grave of Martin Ryder wide and deep, and Pierre +paid for the corner plot three times over in gold. +</P> + +<P> +Then a coffin—improvised hastily for the occasion out of a +packing-box—was lowered reverently, also by "volunteer" mourners, and +before the first sod fell on the dead, Pierre borrowed a long black +cloak from one of the women and wrapped himself in it, in lieu of the +robe of the priest, and raised over his head the crucifix of Father +Victor that brought good luck, and intoned a service in the purest +Ciceronian Latin, surely, that ever regaled the ears of Morgantown's +elect. +</P> + +<P> +The moment he raised that cross the bull throat of Jim Boone bellowed a +command, the poised guns of the gang enforced it, and all the crowd +dropped to their knees, leaving the six outlaws scattered about the +edges of the mob like sheep dogs around a folding flock, while in the +center stood Pierre with white, upturned face and the raised cross. +</P> + +<P> +So Martin Ryder was buried with "trimmings," and the gang rode back, +laughing and shouting, through the town and up into the safety of the +mountains. Election day was fast approaching and therefore the rival +candidates for sheriff hastily organized posses and made the usual +futile pursuit. +</P> + +<P> +In fact, before the pursuit was well under way, Boone and his men sat +at their supper table in the cabin. The seventh chair was filled; all +were present except Jack, who sulked in her room. Pierre went to her +door and knocked. He carried under his arm a package which he had +secured in the General Merchandise Store of Morgantown. +</P> + +<P> +"We're all waiting for you at the table," he explained. +</P> + +<P> +"Just keep on waiting," said the husky voice of Jacqueline. +</P> + +<P> +"If I leave the table will you come out?" +</P> + +<P> +She stammered: "Ye—n-no!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes or no?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, no, no!" +</P> + +<P> +And he heard the stamp of her foot and smiled a little. +</P> + +<P> +"I've brought you a present." +</P> + +<P> +"I hate your presents!" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a thing you've wanted for a long time, Jacqueline." +</P> + +<P> +Only a stubborn silence. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm putting your door a little ajar." +</P> + +<P> +"If you dare to come in I'll—" +</P> + +<P> +"And I'm leaving the package right here at the entrance. I'm so sorry, +Jacqueline, that you hate me." +</P> + +<P> +And then he walked off down the hall—cunning Pierre—before she could +send her answer like an arrow after him. At the table he arranged an +eighth plate and drew up a chair before it. +</P> + +<P> +"If that's for Jack," remarked Dick Wilbur, "you're wasting your time. +I know her and I know her type. She'll never come out to the table +to-night—nor to-morrow, either. I know!" +</P> + +<P> +In fact, he knew a good deal too much about girls and women also, did +Wilbur, and that was why he rode the long trails of the mountain-desert +with Boone and his men. Far south and east in the Bahamas a great +mansion stood vacant because he was gone, and the dust lay thick on the +carpets and powdered the curtains and tapestries with a common gray. +</P> + +<P> +He had built it and furnished it for a woman he loved, and afterward +for her sake he had killed a man and fled from a posse and escaped in +the steerage of a west-bound ship. Still the law followed him, and he +kept on west and west until he reached the mountain-desert which thinks +nothing of swallowing men and their reputations. +</P> + +<P> +There he was safe, but some day he would see some woman smile, catch +the glimmer of some eye, and throw safety away to ride after her. +</P> + +<P> +It was a weakness, but what made a tragic figure of handsome Dick +Wilbur was that he knew his weakness and sat still and let fate walk up +and overtake him. +</P> + +<P> +Yet Pierre le Rouge answered this man of sorrowful wisdom: "In my part +of the country men say: 'If you would speak of women let money talk for +you.'" +</P> + +<P> +And he placed a gold piece on the table. +</P> + +<P> +"She will come out to the supper table." +</P> + +<P> +"She will not," smiled Wilbur, and covered the coin. "Will you take +odds?" +</P> + +<P> +"No charity. Who else will bet?" +</P> + +<P> +"I," said Jim Boone instantly. "You figure her for an ordinary sulky +kid." +</P> + +<P> +Pierre smiled upon him. +</P> + +<P> +"There's a cut in my shirt where her knife passed through; and that's +the reason that I'll bet on her now." +</P> + +<P> +The whole table covered his coin, with laughter. +</P> + +<P> +"We've kept one part of your bargain, Pierre. We've seen your father +buried in the corner plot. Now, what's the second part?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know you well enough to ask you that," said Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +They plied him with suggestions. +</P> + +<P> +"To rob the Berwin Bank?" +</P> + +<P> +"Stick up a train?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. That's nothing." +</P> + +<P> +"Round up the sheriffs from here to the end of the mountains?" +</P> + +<P> +"Too easy." +</P> + +<P> +"Roll all those together," said Pierre, "and you'll begin to get an +idea of what I'll ask." +</P> + +<P> +Then a low voice called from the black throat of the hall "Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +The others were silent, but Pierre winked at them, and made great +flourish with knife and fork against his plate as if to cover the sound +of Jacqueline's voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre!" she called again. "I've come to thank you." +</P> + +<P> +He jumped up and turned toward the hall. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you like it?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a wonder!" +</P> + +<P> +"Then we're friends?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you want to be." +</P> + +<P> +"There's nothing I want more. Then you'll come out and have supper +with us, Jack?" +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre—" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm ashamed. I've been acting like a silly kid." +</P> + +<P> +"But we're waiting for you." +</P> + +<P> +There was a little pause, and then Jim Boone struck his fist on the +table and cursed, for she stepped from the darkness into the flaring +light of the room. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A TALE OF THE SLEDGE +</H3> + + +<P> +She wore a cartridge belt slung jauntily across her hips and from it +hung a holster of stiff new leather with the top flap open to show the +butt of a man-sized forty-five caliber six-shooter—her first gun. Not +a man of the gang but had loaned her his guns time and again, but they +had never dreamed of giving the child a weapon of her own. +</P> + +<P> +So they stared at her agape, where she stood with her head back, one +slender hand resting on her hip, one hovering about the butt of the +gun, as if she challenged them to question her right to be called "man." +</P> + +<P> +It was as if she abandoned all claims to femininity with that single +step; the gun at her side made her seem inches taller and years older. +She was no longer a child, but a long-rider who could back any horse on +the range and shoot with the best. +</P> + +<P> +One glance she cast about the room to drink in the amazement of the +gang, and then with a profound instinct guiding her, she picked out the +best critic in the room and said to him with a frown: "Well, Dick, +how's it hang?" +</P> + +<P> +The big man was as flushed as the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"Hangs like a charm," he said, "a charm that 'll be apt to make men +step about." +</P> + +<P> +And her father broke in rather hoarsely: "Sit down, girl. Sit down and +be one of us. One of us you are by your own choice from this day on. +You're neither man nor woman, but a long-rider with every man's hand +against you. You've done with any hope of a home or of friends. +You're one of us. Poor Jack—my girl!" +</P> + +<P> +"Poor?" she returned. "Not while I can make a quick draw and shoot +straight." +</P> + +<P> +And then she swept the circle of eyes, daring them to take her boast +lightly, but they knew her too well, and were all solemnly silent. At +this she relented somewhat, and went directly to Pierre, flushing from +throat to hair. She held out her hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Will you shake and call it square?" +</P> + +<P> +"I sure will," nodded Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +"And we're pals—you and me, like the rest of 'em?" +</P> + +<P> +"We are." +</P> + +<P> +"Shake again." +</P> + +<P> +She took the place beside him. +</P> + +<P> +Garry Patterson was telling how he had said farewell to a Swedish +sweetheart, and the roar of laughter took the eyes away from Jacqueline +for a moment. So she leaned to Pierre le Rouge and whispered at his +ear: "Pierre you've made me the happiest fellow on the range." +</P> + +<P> +As the whisky went round after round and the fun waxed higher the two +seemed shut away from the others; they were younger, less touched and +marked by life; they listened while the others talked, and now and then +exchanged glances of interest or aversion. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen," she said after a time, "I've heard this story before." +</P> + +<P> +It was Phil Branch, square-built and square of jaw, who was talking. +</P> + +<P> +"There's only one thing I can handle better than a gun, and that's a +sledge-hammer. A gun is all right in its way, but for work in a crowd, +well, give me a hammer and I'll show you a way out." +</P> + +<P> +Bud Mansie grinned: "Leave me my pair of sixes and you can have all the +hammers between here and Central Park in a crowd. There's nothing +makes a crowd remember its heels like a pair of barking sixes." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, ah!" growled Branch. "But when they've heard bone crunch under +the hammer there's nothing will hold them." +</P> + +<P> +"I'd have to see that." +</P> + +<P> +"Maybe you will, Bud, maybe you will. It was the hammer that started +me for the long trail west. I had a big Scotchman in the factory who +couldn't learn how to weld. I'd taught him day after day and cursed +him and damn near prayed for him. But he somehow wouldn't learn—the +swine—ah, ah!" +</P> + +<P> +He grew vindictively black at the memory. +</P> + +<P> +"Every night he wiped out what I'd taught him during the day and the +eraser he used was booze. So one fine day I dropped the hammer after +watchin' him make a botch on a big bar, and cussed him up one leg and +down the other. The Scotchman had a hang-over from the night before +and he made a pass at me. It was too much for me just then, for the +day was hot and the forge fire had been spitting cinders in my face all +morning. So I took him by the throat." +</P> + +<P> +He reached out and closed his taut fingers slowly. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't mean nothin' by it, but after a man has been moldin' iron, +flesh is pretty weak stuff. When I let go of Scotchy he dropped on the +floor, and while I stood starin' down at him somebody seen what had +happened and spread the word. +</P> + +<P> +"I wasn't none too popular, bein' not much on talk, so the boys got +together and pretty soon they come pilin' through the door at me, +packin' everything from hatchets to crowbars. +</P> + +<P> +"Lads, I was sorry about Scotchy, but after I glimpsed that gang comin' +I wasn't sorry for nothing. I felt like singin', though there wasn't +no song that could say just what I meant. But I grabbed up the big +fourteen-pound hammer and met 'em half-way. +</P> + +<P> +"The first swing of the hammer it met something hard, but not as hard +as iron. The thing crunched with a sound like an egg under a heavy +man's heel. And when that crowd heard it they looked sick. God, how +sick they looked! They didn't wait for no second swing, but they beat +it hard and fast through the door with me after 'em. They scattered, +but I kept right on and didn't never really stop till I reached the +mountain-desert and you, Jim." +</P> + +<P> +"Which is a good yarn," said Bud Mansie, "but I can tell you one that +'ll cap it. It was——" +</P> + +<P> +He stopped short, staring up at the door. Outside, the wind had kept +up a perpetual roaring, and no one noticed the noise of the opening +door. Bud Mansie, facing that door, however, turned a queer yellow and +sat with his lips parted on the last word. He was not pretty to see. +The others turned their heads, and there followed the strangest panic +which Pierre had even seen. +</P> + +<P> +Jim Boone jerked his hand back to his hip, but stayed the motion, half +completed, and swung his hands stiffly above his head. Garry Patterson +sat with his eyes blinked shut, pale, waiting for death to come. Dick +Wilbur rose, tall and stiff, and stood with his hands gripped at his +sides, and Black Morgan Gandil clutched at the table before him and his +keen eyes wandered swiftly about the room, seeking a place for escape. +</P> + +<P> +There was only one sound, and that was a whispering moan of terror from +Jacqueline. Only Pierre made no move, yet he felt as he had when the +black mass of the landslide loomed above him. +</P> + +<P> +What he saw in the door was a man of medium size and almost slender +build. In spite of the patch of gray hair at either temple he was only +somewhere between twenty-five and thirty. But to see him was to forget +all details except the strangest face which Pierre had ever seen or +would ever look upon in all his career. +</P> + +<P> +It was pale, with a pallor strange to the ranges; even the lips seemed +bloodless, and they curved with a suggestion of a smile that was a +nervous habit rather than any sign of mirth. The nerves of the left +eye were also affected, and the lid dropped and fluttered almost shut, +so that he had to carry his head far back in order to see plainly. +There was such indomitable pride and scorn in the man that his name +came up to the lips of Pierre: "McGurk." +</P> + +<P> +A surprisingly gentle voice said: "Jim, I'm sorry to drop in on you +this way, but I've had some unpleasant news." +</P> + +<P> +His words dispelled part of the charm. The hands of big Boone lowered; +the others assumed more natural positions, but each, it seemed to +Pierre, took particular and almost ostentatious care that their right +hands should be always far from the holsters of their guns. +</P> + +<P> +The stranger went on: "Martin Ryder is finished, as I suppose you know. +He left a spawn of two mongrels behind him. I haven't bothered with +them, but I'm a little more interested in another son that has cropped +up. He's sitting over there in your family party and his name is +Pierre. In his own country they call him Pierre le Rouge, which means +Red Pierre, in our talk. +</P> + +<P> +"You know I don't like to be dictatorial, and I've never crossed you in +anything before, Jim. Have I?" +</P> + +<P> +Boone moistened his white lips and answered: "Never," huskily, as if it +were a great muscular effort for him to speak. +</P> + +<P> +"This time I have to break the custom. Boone, this fellow Pierre has +to leave the country. Will you see that he goes?" +</P> + +<P> +The lips of Boone moved and made no sound. +</P> + +<P> +He said at length: "McGurk, I'd rather cross the devil than cross you. +There's no shame in admitting that. But I've lost my boy, Hal." +</P> + +<P> +"Too bad, Jim. I knew Hal; at a distance, of course." +</P> + +<P> +"And Pierre is filling Hal's place in the family." +</P> + +<P> +"Is that your answer?" +</P> + +<P> +"McGurk, are you going to pin me down in this?" +</P> + +<P> +And here Jack whirled and cried: "Dad, you won't let Pierre go!" +</P> + +<P> +"You see?" pleaded Boone. +</P> + +<P> +It was uncanny and horrible to see the giant so unnerved before this +stranger, but that part of it did not come to Pierre until later. Now +he felt a peculiar emptiness of stomach and a certain jumping chill +that traveled up and down his spine. Moreover, he could not move his +eyes from the face of McGurk, and he knew at length that this was +fear—the first real fear that he had ever known. +</P> + +<P> +Shame made him hot, but fear made him cold again. He knew that if he +rose his knees would buckle under him; that if he drew out his revolver +it would slip from his palsied fingers. For the fear of death is a +mighty fear, but it is nothing compared with the fear of man. +</P> + +<P> +"I've asked you a question," said McGurk. "What's your answer?" +</P> + +<P> +There was a quiver in the black forest of Boone's beard, and if Pierre +was cold before, he was sick at heart to see the big man cringe before +McGurk. +</P> + +<P> +He stammered: "Give me time." +</P> + +<P> +"Good," said McGurk. "I'm afraid I know what your answer would be now, +but if you take a couple of days you will think things over and come to +a reasonable conclusion. I will be at Gaffney's place about fifteen +miles from here. You know it? Send your answer there. In the mean +time"—he stepped forward to the table and poured a small drink of +whiskey into a glass and raised it high—"here's to the long health and +happiness of us all. Drink!" +</P> + +<P> +There was a hasty pouring of liquor. +</P> + +<P> +"And you also!" +</P> + +<P> +Pierre jumped as if he had been struck, and obeyed the order hastily. +</P> + +<P> +"So," said the master, pleasant again, and Pierre wiped his forehead +furtively and stared up with fascinated eyes. "An unwilling pledge is +better than none at all. To you, gentleman, much happiness; to you, +Pierre le Rouge, <I>bon voyage</I>." +</P> + +<P> +They drank; the master placed his glass on the table again, smiled upon +them, and was gone through the door. He turned his back in leaving. +There was no fitter way in which he could have expressed his contempt. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +MCGURK +</H3> + + +<P> +The mirth died and in its place came a long silence. Jim Boone stared +upon Pierre with miserable eyes, and then rose and left the room. The +others one by one followed his example. Dick Wilbur in passing dropped +his hand on Pierre's shoulder. Jacqueline was silent. +</P> + +<P> +As he sat there minute after minute and then hour after hour of the +long night Pierre saw the meaning of it. If they sent word that they +would not give up Pierre it was war, and war with McGurk had only one +ending. If they sent word that Pierre was surrendered the shame would +never leave Boone and his men. +</P> + +<P> +Whatever they did there was ruin for them in the end. All this Pierre +conned slowly in his mind, until he was cold. Then he looked up and +saw that the lamp had burned out and that the wood in the fireplace was +consumed to a few red embers. +</P> + +<P> +He replenished the fire, and when the yellow flames began to mount he +made his resolution and walked slowly up and down the floor with it. +For he knew that he must go to meet McGurk. +</P> + +<P> +The very thought of the man sent the old chill through his blood, yet +he must go and face him and end the thing. +</P> + +<P> +It came over him with a pang that he was very young; that life was +barely a taste in his mouth, whether bitter or sweet he could not tell. +He picked a flaming stick from the fire and went before a little round +mirror on the wall. +</P> + +<P> +Back at him stared the face of a boy. He had seen so much of the grim +six in the last day that the contrast startled him. They were men, +hardened to life and filled with knowledge of it. They were books +written full and ready to be ended. But he? He was a blank page with +a scribbled word here and there. Nevertheless, he was chosen and he +must go. +</P> + +<P> +Having reached that decision he closed his mind on what would happen. +There was a vague fear that when he faced McGurk he would be unmanned +again and frozen with fear; that his spirit would be broken and he +would become a thing too despicable for a man to kill. +</P> + +<P> +One thing was certain: if he was to act a man's part and die a man's +death he must not stand long before McGurk. It seemed to him then that +he would die happy if he had the strength to fire one shot before the +end. +</P> + +<P> +Then he tiptoed from the house and went over the snow to the barn and +saddled the horse of Hal Boone. It was already morning, and as he led +the horse to the door of the barn a shadow, a faint shadow in that +early light, fell across the snow before him. +</P> + +<P> +He looked up and saw Jacqueline. She stepped close, and the horse +nosed her shoulder affectionately. +</P> + +<P> +She said: "Isn't there anything that will keep you from going?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's just a little ride before breakfast. I'll be back in an hour." +</P> + +<P> +It was foolish to try to blind her, as he saw by her wan, unchildish +smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Is there no other way, Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know of any, do you?" +</P> + +<P> +"You have to leave us, and never come back?" +</P> + +<P> +"Is he as sure as that, Jack?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure? Who?" +</P> + +<P> +She had not known, after all; she thought that he was merely riding +away from the region where McGurk was king. Now she caught his wrists +and shook them. +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, you are not going to face McGurk? Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +It was sweet and bitter-sweet that the child should wish him to stay, +and it made the heart of Pierre old and stern to look down on her. +</P> + +<P> +"If you were a man, you would understand." +</P> + +<P> +"I know; because of your father. I do understand, but oh, Pierre, it +makes me so unhappy—so terribly sad, Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +Inspiration made her catch her breath. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen! I can shoot as straight as almost any man. We will ride down +together. We will go through the doors together—me first to take his +fire, and you behind to shoot him down." +</P> + +<P> +"I guess no man can be as brave as a woman, Jack. No; I have to see +McGurk alone. He faced my father alone and shot him down. I'll face +McGurk alone and live long enough to put my mark on him." +</P> + +<P> +"But you don't know him. He can't be hurt. Do you think my father +and—and Dick Wilbur would fear any man who could be hurt? No, but +McGurk has been in a hundred fights and never been touched. There's a +charm over him, don't you see?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll break the charm, that's all." +</P> + +<P> +"You're only a boy, Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"I, also, carry a charm with me. Good-by." +</P> + +<P> +He was up in the saddle. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'll call dad—I'll call them all—if you die they shall all +follow you. I swear they shall, Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +He merely leaned forward and touched the horse with his spurs, but +after he had raced the first hundred yards he glanced back. She was +running hard for the house, and calling as she went. Pierre cursed and +spurred the horse again. +</P> + +<P> +Yet even if Jim Boone and his men started out after him they could +never overtake him. Before they were in their saddles and up with him, +he'd be a full three miles out in the hills. Not even black Thunder +could make up as much ground as that. +</P> + +<P> +So all the fifteen miles to Gaffney's place he urged his horse. The +excitement of the race kept the thought of McGurk back in his mind. +Only once he lost time when he had to pull up beside a buckboard and +inquire the way. After that he flew on again. Yet as he clattered up +to the door of Gaffney's crossroads saloon and swung to the ground he +looked back and saw a cluster of horsemen swing around the shoulder of +a hill and come tearing after him. Surely his time was short. +</P> + +<P> +He thrust open the door of the place and called for a drink. The +bartender spun the glass down the bar to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's McGurk?" +</P> + +<P> +The other stopped in the very act of taking out the bottle from the +shelf, and his curious glance went over the face of Pierre le Rouge. +He decided, apparently, that it was foolish to hold suspicions against +so young a man. +</P> + +<P> +"In that room," and he jerked his hand toward a door. "What do you +want with him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Got a message for him." +</P> + +<P> +"Tell it to me, and I'll pass it along." +</P> + +<P> +Pierre met the eye of the other and smiled faintly. +</P> + +<P> +"Not <I>this</I> message." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh," said the other, and then shouted: "McGurk!" +</P> + +<P> +Far away came the rush of hoofs over a hard trail. Only a minute more +and they would be here; only a minute more and the room would be full +of fighting men ready to die with him and for him. Yet Pierre was +glad; glad that he could meet the danger alone; ten minutes from now, +if he lived, he could answer certainly one way or the other the +greatest of all questions: "Am I a man?" +</P> + +<P> +Out of the inner room the pleasant voice which he dreaded answered: +"What's up?" +</P> + +<P> +The barkeeper glanced Pierre le Rouge over again and then answered: "A +friend with a message." +</P> + +<P> +The door opened and framed McGurk. He did not start, seeing Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +He said: "None of the rest of them had the guts even to bring me the +message, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +Pierre shrugged his shoulders. It was a mighty effort, but he was able +to look his man fairly in the eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"All right, lad. How long is it going to take you to clear out of the +country?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's not the message," answered a voice which Pierre did not +recognize as his own. +</P> + +<P> +"Out with it, then." +</P> + +<P> +"It's in the leather on my hip." +</P> + +<P> +And he went for his gun. Even as he started his hand he knew that he +was too slow for McGurk, yet the finest split-second watch in the world +could not have caught the differing time they needed to get their guns +out of the holsters. +</P> + +<P> +Just a breath before Pierre fired there was a stunning blow on his +right shoulder and another on his hip. He lurched to the floor, his +revolver clattering against the wood as he fell, but falling, he +scooped up the gun with his left and twisted. +</P> + +<P> +That movement made the third shot of McGurk fly wide and Pierre fired +from the floor and saw a spasm of pain contract the face of the outlaw. +</P> + +<P> +Instantly the door behind him flew open and Boone's men stormed into +the room. Once more McGurk fired, but his wound made his aim wide and +the bullet merely tore up a splinter beside Pierre's head. A fusillade +from Boone and his men answered, but the outlaw had leaped back through +the door. +</P> + +<P> +"He's hurt," thundered Boone. "By God, the charm of McGurk is broken. +Dick, Bud, Gandil, take the outside of the place. I'll force the door." +</P> + +<P> +Wilbur and the other two raced through the door and raised a shout at +once, and then there was a rattle of shots. Big Patterson leaned over +Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +He said in an awe-stricken voice: "Lad, it's a great work that you've +done for all of us, if you've drawn the blood from McGurk." +</P> + +<P> +"His left shoulder," said Pierre, and smiled in spite of his pain. +</P> + +<P> +"And you, lad?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to live; I've got to finish the job. Who's that beside you? +There's a mist over my eyes." +</P> + +<P> +"It's Jack. She outrode us all." +</P> + +<P> +Then the mist closed over the eyes of Pierre and his senses went out in +the dark. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +GOLD HAIR +</H3> + + +<P> +Those who are curious about the period which followed during which the +title "Le Rouge" was forgotten and he became known only as "Red" Pierre +through all the mountain-desert, can hear the tales of his doing from +the analists of the ranges. This story has to do only with his +struggle with McGurk, and must end where that struggle ended. +</P> + +<P> +The gap of six years which occurs here is due to the fact that during +that period McGurk vanished from the mountain-desert. He died away +from the eyes of men and in their minds he became that tradition which +lives still so vividly, the tradition of the pale face, the sneering, +bloodless lips, and the hand which never failed. +</P> + +<P> +During this lapse of time there were many who claimed that he had +ridden off into some lonely haunt and died of the wound which he +received from Pierre's bullet. A great majority, however, would never +accept such a story, and even when the six years had rolled by they +still shook their heads and "had their doubt on the matter" like +<I>Wouter Van Twiller</I> of immortal memory. +</P> + +<P> +They awaited his return just as certain stanch old Britons await the +second coming of Arthur from the island of Avalon. In the mean time +the terror of his name passed on to him who had broken the "charm" of +McGurk. +</P> + +<P> +Not all that grim significance passed on to "Red" Pierre, indeed, +because he never impressed the public imagination as did the terrible +ruthlessness of McGurk. At that he did enough to keep tongues wagging. +</P> + +<P> +Cattlemen loved to tell those familiar exploits of the "two sheriffs," +or that "thousand-mile pursuit of Canby," with its half-tragic, +half-humorous conclusion, or the "Sacking of Two Rivers," or the +"three-cornered battle" against Rodriguez and Blond. +</P> + +<P> +But men could not forget that in all his work there rode behind Red +Pierre six dauntless warriors of the mountain-desert, while McGurk had +been always a single hand against the world, a veritable lone wolf. +</P> + +<P> +Whatever kept him away through those six years, the memory of the wound +he received at Gaffney's place never left McGurk, and now he was coming +back with a single great purpose in his mind, and in his heart a +consuming hatred for Pierre and all the other of Boone's men. +</P> + +<P> +Certainly if he had sensed the second coming of McGurk, Pierre would +not have ridden so jauntily through the hills this day, or whistled so +carelessly, or swept the hills with such a complacent, lordly eye. A +man of mark cannot bear himself too modestly, and Pierre, from boots to +high-peaked, broad-brimmed sombrero, was the last word in elegance for +a rider of the mountain-desert. +</P> + +<P> +Even his mount seemed to sense the pride of his master. It was a +cream-colored mustang, not one of the lump-headed, bony-hipped species +common to the ranges, but one of those rare reversions to the Spanish +thoroughbreds from which the Western cow-pony is descended. The mare +was not over-large, but the broad hips and generous expanse of chest +were hints, and only hints, of her strength and endurance. There was +the speed of the blooded racer in her and the tirelessness of the +mustang. +</P> + +<P> +Now, down the rocky, half broken trail she picked her way as daintily +as any debutante tiptoeing down a great stairway to the ballroom. Life +had been easy for Mary since that thousand-mile struggle to overtake +Canby, and now her sides were sleek from good feeding and some casual +twenty miles a day, which was no more to her than a canter through the +park is to the city horse. +</P> + +<P> +The eye which had been so red-stained and fierce during the long ride +after Canby was now bright and gentle. At every turn she pricked her +small sharp ears as if she expected home and friends on the other side +of the curve. And now and again she tossed her head and glanced back +at the master for a moment and then whinnied across some echoing ravine. +</P> + +<P> +It was Mary's way of showing happiness, and her master's acknowledgment +was to run his gloved left hand up through her mane and with his +ungloved right, that tanned and agile hand, pat her shoulder lightly. +</P> + +<P> +Passing to the end of the down-grade, they reached a slight upward +incline, and the mare, as if she had come to familiar ground, broke +into a gallop, a matchless, swinging stride. Swerving to right and to +left among the great boulders, like a football player running a broken +field, she increased the gallop to a racing pace. +</P> + +<P> +That twisting course would have shaken an ordinary horseman to the +toes, but Pierre, swaying easily in the saddle, dropped the reins into +the crook of his left arm and rolled a cigarette in spite of the motion +and the wind. It was a little feat, but it would have drawn applause +from a circus crowd. +</P> + +<P> +He spoke to the mare while he lighted a match and she dropped to an +easy canter, the pace which she could maintain from dawn to dark, +eating up the gray miles of the mountain and the desert, and it was +then that Red Pierre heard a gay voice singing in the distance. +</P> + +<P> +His attitude changed at once. He caught a shorter grip on the reins +and swung forward a little in the saddle, while his right hand touched +the butt of the revolver in its holster and made sure that it was +loose; for to those who hunt and are hunted every human voice in the +mountain-desert is an ominous token. +</P> + +<P> +The mare, sensing the change of her master through that weird +telegraphy which passed down the taut bridle reins, held her head high +and flattened her short ears against her neck. +</P> + +<P> +The song and the singer drew closer, and the vigilence of Pierre ceased +as he heard a mellow barytone ring out: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"They call me poor, yet I am rich<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">In the touch of her golden hair,</SPAN><BR> +My heart is filled like a miser's hands<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">With the red-gold of her hair.</SPAN><BR> +The sky I ride beneath all day<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Is the blue of her dear eyes;</SPAN><BR> +The only heaven I desire<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Is the blue of her dear eyes."</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +And here Dick Wilbur rode about the shoulder of a hill, broke off his +song at the sight of Pierre le Rouge, and shouted a welcome. They came +together and continued their journey side by side. The half-dozen +years had hardly altered the blond, handsome face of Wilbur, and now, +with the gladness of his singing still flushing his face, he seemed +hardly more than a boy—younger, in fact, than Red Pierre, into whose +eyes there came now and then a grave sternness. +</P> + +<P> +"After hearing that song," said Pierre smiling, "I feel as if I'd +listened to a portrait." +</P> + +<P> +"Right!" said Wilbur, with unabated enthusiasm. "It's the bare and +unadorned truth, Prince Pierre. My fine <I>Galahad</I>, if you came within +eye-shot of her there'd be a small-sized hell raised." +</P> + +<P> +"No. I'm immune there, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Nonsense. The beauty of a really lovely woman is like a fine perfume. +It strikes right to a man's heart; there's no possibility of +resistance. I know. You, Pierre, act like a man already in love or a +boy who has never known a woman. Which is it, Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +The other made a familiar gesture with those who knew him, a touching +of his left hand against his throat where the cross lay. +</P> + +<P> +He said: "I suppose it seems like that to you." +</P> + +<P> +"Like what? Dodging me, eh? Well, I never press the point, but I'd +give the worth of your horse, Pierre, to see you and Mary together." +</P> + +<P> +Red Pierre started, and then frowned. +</P> + +<P> +"Irritates you a little, eh? Well, a woman is like a spur to most men." +</P> + +<P> +He added, with a momentary gloom: "God knows, I bear the marks of 'em." +</P> + +<P> +He raised his head, as if he looked up in response to his thought. +</P> + +<P> +"But there's a difference with this girl. I've named the quality of +her before—a fragrance, you know, that disarms a man, and like a +fragrance there's just a touch of melancholy about her and an appeal +that follows after you when she's gone." +</P> + +<P> +Pierre looked to his friend with some alarm, for there was a saying +among the followers of Boone that a woman would be the downfall of big +Dick Wilbur again, as a woman had been his downfall before. The +difference would be that this fall must be his last. +</P> + +<P> +And Wilbur went on: "She's Eastern, Pierre, and out here visiting the +daughter of old Barnes who owns about a thousand miles of range, you +know. How long will she be here? That's the question I'm trying to +answer for her. I met her riding over the hills—she was galloping +along a ridge, and she rode her way right into my heart. Well, I'm a +fool, of course, but about this girl I can't be wrong. To-night I'm +taking her to a masquerade." +</P> + +<P> +He pulled his horse to a full stop. +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, you have to come with me." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ENNUI +</H3> + + +<P> +Pierre stared at his companion with almost open-mouthed astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"I? A dance?" +</P> + +<P> +And then his head tilted back and he laughed. +</P> + +<P> +"My good times, Dick, come out of the hills and the sky-line, and the +gallop of Mary. But as for women, they bore me, Dick." +</P> + +<P> +"Even Jack?" +</P> + +<P> +"She's more man than woman." +</P> + +<P> +It was the turn of Wilbur to laugh, and he responded uproariously until +Pierre frowned and flushed a little. +</P> + +<P> +"When I see you out here on your horse with your rifle in the boot and +your six-gun swinging low in the scabbard, and riding the fastest bit +of horse-flesh on the ranges," explained Wilbur, "I get to thinking +that you're pretty much king of the mountains; but in certain respects, +Pierre, you're a child. Ha, ha, ha! a regular infant." +</P> + +<P> +Pierre stirred uneasily in his saddle. A man must be well over thirty +before he can withstand ridicule. +</P> + +<P> +He said dryly: "I've an idea that I know Jack about as well as the next +man." +</P> + +<P> +"Let it drop," said Wilbur, sober again, for he shared with all of +Boone's crew a deep-rooted unwillingness to press Red Pierre beyond a +certain point. "The one subject I won't quarrel about is Jack, God +bless her." +</P> + +<P> +"She's the best pal," said Pierre soberly, "and the nearest to a man +I've ever met." +</P> + +<P> +"Nearest to a man?" queried Wilbur, and smiled, but so furtively that +even the sharp eye of Red Pierre did not perceive the mockery. He went +on: +</P> + +<P> +"But the dance, what of that? It's a masquerade. There'd be no fear +of being recognized." +</P> + +<P> +Pierre was silent a moment more. Then he said: +</P> + +<P> +"This girl—what did you call her?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mary." +</P> + +<P> +"And about her hair—I think you said it was black?" +</P> + +<P> +"Golden, Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"Mary, and golden hair," mused Red Pierre. "I think I'll go to that +dance." +</P> + +<P> +"With Jack? She dances wonderfully, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Well—with Jack." +</P> + +<P> +So they reached a tumbled ranch-house squeezed between two hills so +that it was sheltered from the storms of the winter but held all the +heat of the summer. +</P> + +<P> +Once it had been a goodly building, the home of some cattle-king. But +bad times had come. +</P> + +<P> +A bullet in a saloon brawl put an end to the cattle king, and now his +home was a wreck of its former glory. The northern wing shelved down +to the ground as if the building were kneeling to the power of the +wind, and the southern portion of the house, though still erect, seemed +tottering and rotten throughout and holding together until at a final +blow the whole structure would crumple at once. +</P> + +<P> +To the stables, hardly less ruinous than the big house, Pierre and +Wilbur took their horses, and a series of whinnies greeted them from +the stalls. To look down that line of magnificent heads raised above +the partitions of the stalls was like glancing into the stud of some +crowned head who made hunting and racing his chief end in life, for +these were animals worthy of the sport of kings. +</P> + +<P> +They were chosen each from among literal hundreds and thousands, and +they were cared for far more tenderly than the masters cared for +themselves. There was a reason in it, for upon their speed and +endurance depended the life of the outlaw. Moreover, the policy of Jim +Boone was one of actual "long riding." +</P> + +<P> +Here he had come to a pause for a few days to recuperate his horses and +his men. To-morrow, perhaps, he would be on the spur again and +sweeping off to a distant point in the mountain desert to strike and be +gone again before the rangers knew well that he had been there. Very +rarely did one settler have another neighbor at a distance of less than +two hundred miles. It meant arduous and continual riding, and a horse +with any defect was worse than useless because the speed of the gang +had to be the speed of the slowest horse in the lot. +</P> + +<P> +It was some time before the two long riders had completed the grooming +of their horses and had gone down the hill and into the house. In the +largest habitable room they found a fire fed with rotten timbers from +the wrecked portion of the building, and scattered through the room a +sullen and dejected group: Mansie, Branch, Jim Boone, and Black Morgan +Gandil. +</P> + +<P> +At a glance it was easy to detect their malady; it was the horrible +ennui which comes to men who are always surrounded by one set of faces. +If a man is happily married he may bear with his wife and his children +constantly through long stretches of time, but the glamour of life lies +in the varying personalities which a man glimpses in passing, but never +knows. +</P> + +<P> +This was a rare crew. Every man of them was marked for courage and +stamina and wild daring. Yet even so in their passive moments they +hated each other with a hate that passed the understanding of common +men. +</P> + +<P> +Through seven years they had held together, through fair weather and +foul, and now each knew from the other's expression the words that were +about to be spoken, and each knew that the other was reading him, and +loathing what he read. +</P> + +<P> +So they were apt to relapse into long silences unless Jack was with +them, for being a woman her variety was infinite, or Pierre le Rouge, +whom all except Black Gandil loved and petted, and feared. +</P> + +<P> +They were a battered crowd. Wind and hard weather and a thousand suns +had marked them, and the hand of man had branded them. Here and there +was a touch of gray in their hair, and about the mouth of each were +lines which in such silent moments as this one gave an expression of +infinite and wistful yearning. +</P> + +<P> +"What's up? What's wrong?" asked Wilbur from the door, but since no +answer was deigned he said no more. +</P> + +<P> +But Pierre, like a charmed man who dares to walk among lions, strolled +easily through the room, and looked into the face of big Boone, who +smiled faintly up to him, and Black Gandil, who scowled doubly dark, +and Bud Mansie, who shifted uneasily in his chair and then nodded, and +finally to Branch. He dropped a hand on the massive shoulder of the +blacksmith. +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" he asked. +</P> + +<P> +Branch let himself droop back into his chair. His big, dull, colorless +eyes stared up to his friend. +</P> + +<P> +"I dunno, lad. I'm just weary with the sort of tired that you can't +help by sleepin'. Understand?" +</P> + +<P> +Pierre nodded, slowly, because he sympathized. "And the trouble?" +</P> + +<P> +Branch stared about as if searching for a reason. +</P> + +<P> +"Jack's up-stairs sulking; Patterson hasn't come home yet." +</P> + +<P> +And Black Gandil, who heard all things, said without looking up: "A man +that saves a ship-wrecked fellow, he gets bad luck for thanks." +</P> + +<P> +Pierre turned a considering eye on him, and Gandil scowled back. +</P> + +<P> +"You've been croaking for six years, Morgan, about the bad luck that +would come to Jim from saving me out of the snow. It's never happened, +has it?" +</P> + +<P> +Gandil, snarling from one side of his mouth, answered: "Where's +Patterson?" +</P> + +<P> +"Am I responsible if the blockhead has got drunk some place?" +</P> + +<P> +"Patterson doesn't get drunk—not that way. And he knows that we were +to start again to-day." +</P> + +<P> +"There ain't no doubt of that," commented Branch. +</P> + +<P> +"It's the straight dope. Patterson keeps his dates," said Bud Mansie. +</P> + +<P> +The booming bass of Jim Boone broke in: "Shut up, the whole gang of +you. We've had luck for the six years Pierre has been with us. Who +calls him a Jonah?" +</P> + +<P> +And Black Gandil answered: "I do. I've sailed the seas. I know bad +luck when I see it." +</P> + +<P> +"You've been seeing it for six years." +</P> + +<P> +"The worst storms come on a voyage that starts with fair weather. +Patterson? He's gone; he ain't just delayed; he's gone." +</P> + +<P> +It was not the first of these gloomy prophecies which Gandil had made, +but each time a heavy gloom broke over Red Pierre. For when he summed +up the good fortune which the cross of Father Victor had brought him, +he found that he had gained a father, and lost him at their first +meeting; and he had won money on that night of the gambling, but it had +cost the life of another man almost at once. The horse which carried +him away from the vengeance in Morgantown had died on the way and he +had been saved from the landslide, but the girl had perished. +</P> + +<P> +He had driven McGurk from the ranges, and where would the penalty fall +on those who were near and dear to him? In a superstitious horror he +had asked himself the question a thousand times, and finally he could +hardly bear to look into the ominous, brooding eyes of Black Gandil. +It was as if the man had a certain and evil knowledge of the future. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +BLACK GANDIL +</H3> + + +<P> +The knowledge of the torment he was inflicting made the eye of Black +Gandil bright with triumph. +</P> + +<P> +He continued, and now every man in the room was sitting up, alert, with +gloomy eyes fixed upon Pierre: "Patterson is the first, but he ain't +the last. He's just the start. Who's next?" He looked slowly around. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it you, Bud, or you, Phil, or you, Jim, or maybe me?" +</P> + +<P> +And Pierre said: "What makes you think you know that trouble's coming, +Morgan?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because my blood runs cold in me when I look at you." +</P> + +<P> +Red Pierre grew rigid and straightened in a way they knew. +</P> + +<P> +"Damn you, Gandil, I've borne with you and your croaking too long, d'ye +hear? Too long, and I'll hear no more of it, understand?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why not? You'll hear from me every time I sight you in the offing. +You c'n lay to that!" +</P> + +<P> +The others were tense, ready to spring for cover, but Boone reared up +his great figure. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't answer him, Pierre. You, Gandil, shut your face or I'll break +ye in two." +</P> + +<P> +The fierce eyes of Pierre le Rouge never wavered from his victim, but +he answered: "Keep out of this. This is my party. I'll tell you why +you'll stop gibbering, Gandil." +</P> + +<P> +He made a pace forward and every man shrank a little away from him. +</P> + +<P> +"Because the cold in your blood is part hate and more fear, Black +Gandil." +</P> + +<P> +The eyes of Gandil glared back for an instant. With all his soul he +yearned for the courage to pull his gun, but his arm was numb; he could +not move it, and his eyes wavered and fell. +</P> + +<P> +The shaggy gray head of Jim Boone fell likewise, and he was murmuring +to his savage old heart: +</P> + +<P> +"The good days are over. They'll never rest till one of 'em is dead, +and then the rest will take sides and we'll have gun-plays at night. +Seven years, and then to break up!" +</P> + +<P> +Dick Wilbur, as usual, was the pacifier. He strode across the room, +and the sharp sound of his heels on the creaking floor broke the +tension. He said softly to Pierre: "You've raised hell enough. Now +let's go up and get Jack down here to undo what you've just finished. +Besides, you've got to ask her for that dance, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +The glance of Pierre still lingered on Gandil as he turned and followed +Wilbur up the complaining stairs to the one habitable room in the +second story of the house. It was set aside for the use of Jacqueline. +</P> + +<P> +At the door Wilbur said: "Shrug your shoulders back; you look as if you +were going to jump at something. And wipe the wolf-look off your face. +After all, Jack's a girl, not a gun-fighter." +</P> + +<P> +Then he knocked and opened the door. +</P> + +<P> +She lay face down on her bunk, her head turned from them and toward the +wall. Slender and supple and strong, it was still only the size of her +boots and her hands that would make one look at her twice and then +guess that this was a woman, for she was dressed, from trousers even to +the bright bandanna knotted around her throat, like any prosperous +range rider. +</P> + +<P> +Now, to be sure, the thick coils of black hair told her sex, but when +the broad-brimmed sombrero was pulled well down on her head, when the +cartridge-belt and the six-gun were slung about her waist, and most of +all when she spurred her mount recklessly across the hills, no one +could have suspected that this was not some graceful boy born and bred +in the mountain-desert, wilful as a young mountain-lion, and as +dangerous. +</P> + +<P> +"Sleepy?" called Wilbur. +</P> + +<P> +She waited a moment and then queried with exaggerated impudence: "Well?" +</P> + +<P> +Ennui unspeakable was in that drawling monotone. +</P> + +<P> +"Brace up; I've got news for you." +</P> + +<P> +Her hand moved and all the graceful body, but it was only with a yawn. +What need was there to speak? She wished to be alone. +</P> + +<P> +"And I've brought Pierre along to tell you about it. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" +</P> + +<P> +And she sat bolt upright with shining eyes. Instantly she remembered +to yawn again, but her glance smiled on them above her hand. +</P> + +<P> +She apologized. "Awfully sleepy, Dick." +</P> + +<P> +But he was not deceived. He said: "There's a dance down near the +Barnes place, and Pierre wants you to go with him." +</P> + +<P> +Back tilted her head, and her throat stirred as if she were singing. +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre! A dance?" +</P> + +<P> +He explained: "Dick's lost his head over a girl with yellow hair, and +he wants me to go down and see her. He thought you might want to go +along." +</P> + +<P> +Her face changed like the moon when a cloud blows across it. Before +she answered she slipped down on the bunk again, pillowed her head +leisurely on her arm, and answered with another slow, insolent yawn: +"Thanks! I'm staying home to-night." +</P> + +<P> +Wilbur glared his rage covertly at Pierre, but the latter was blandly +unconscious that he had made any <I>faux pas</I>. +</P> + +<P> +He said carelessly: "Too bad. It might be interesting, Jack?" +</P> + +<P> +At his voice she looked up—a sharp and graceful toss of the head. +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"The girl with the yellow hair." +</P> + +<P> +"Then go ahead and see her. I won't keep you. You don't mind if I go +on sleeping? Sit down and be at home." +</P> + +<P> +With this she calmly turned her back again and seemed thoroughly +disposed to carry out her word. Red Pierre flushed a little, watching +her, and he spoke his anger outright: "You're acting like a sulky kid, +Jack, not like a man." +</P> + +<P> +It was a habit of his to forget that she was a woman. Without turning +her head she answered: "Do you want to know why?" +</P> + +<P> +"You're like a cat showing your claws. Go on! Tell me what the reason +is." +</P> + +<P> +"Because I get tired of you." +</P> + +<P> +In all his life he had never been so scorned. He did not see the +covert grin of Wilbur in the background. He blurted: "Tired?" +</P> + +<P> +"Awfully. You don't mind me being frank, do you, Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +He could only stammer: "Sometimes I wish to God you were a man, Jack!" +</P> + +<P> +"You don't often remember that I'm a woman." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean by that?" +</P> + +<P> +She was silent, but there was a perceptible tremor in the graceful body. +</P> + +<P> +He repeated: "Do you mean that I'm rude or rough with you, Jacqueline?" +</P> + +<P> +Still the silence, but Wilbur was grinning broader than ever. "Answer +me!" +</P> + +<P> +She started up and faced him, her face convulsed with rage. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you want me to say? Yes, you are rude—I hate you and your +lot. Go away from me; I don't want you; I hate you all." +</P> + +<P> +And she would have said more, but furious sobs swelled her throat and +she could not speak, but dropped, face down, on the bunk and gripped +the blankets in each hard-set hand. Over her Pierre leaned, utterly +bewildered, found nothing that he could say, and then turned and +strode, frowning, from the room. Wilbur hastened after him and caught +him just as the door was closing. +</P> + +<P> +"Come back," he pleaded. "This is the best game I've ever seen. Come +back, Pierre! You've made a wonderful start." +</P> + +<P> +Pierre le Rouge shook off the detaining hand and glared up at Wilbur. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't try irony, Dick. I feel like murder. Think of it! All this +time she's been hating me; and now it's making her weep; think of +it—Jack—weeping!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, you're a child, Pierre. Go back and take her in your arms and +tell her you're going to make her go to the dance." +</P> + +<P> +"Take her in my arms? She'd stab me, there's that much of the devil in +her. Don't grin at me and keep chuckling like an utter ass. What's +up, Dick?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you see? No, you don't, but it's so plain that a baby of three +years could understand. She's in love with you." +</P> + +<P> +"With me?" +</P> + +<P> +"With Red Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"You can't make a joke out of Jack with me. You ought to know that." +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, I'd as soon make a joke out of a wildcat." +</P> + +<P> +"Grinning still? Wilbur, I'm taking more from you than I would from +any man on the ranges." +</P> + +<P> +"I know you are, and that's why I'm stringing this out because I'm +going to have a laugh—ha, ha, ha!—the rest of my life—ha, ha, ha, +ha!—whenever I think of this—ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!" +</P> + +<P> +The burst of merriment left him speechless, and Pierre, glowering, his +right hand twitching dangerously close to that holster at his hip. He +sobered, and said: "Go in and talk to her and prove that I'm right." +</P> + +<P> +"Ask Jack if she loves me? Why, I'd as soon ask any man the same +question." +</P> + +<P> +The big long rider was instantly curious. +</P> + +<P> +"Has she never appealed to you as a woman, Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +"How could she? I've watched her ride; I've watched her use her gun; +I've slept rolled in the same blankets with her, back to back; I've +walked and talked and traveled with her as if she were my kid brother." +</P> + +<P> +Wilbur nodded, as if the miracle were being slowly unfolded before his +eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"And you've never noticed anything different about her? Never watched +a little lift and grace in her walk that no man could ever have; never +heard her laugh in a voice that no man could ever imitate; never seen +her color change just because you, Pierre, came near or went far away +from her?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because of me?" asked the bewildered Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +"You fool, you! Why, lad, I've been kept amused by you two for a whole +evening, watching her play for your attention, saving her best smiles +for you, keeping her best attitudes for you, and letting all the +richness of her voice go out for—a block—a stone. Gad, the thing +still doesn't seem possible! Pierre, one instant of that girl would +give romance to a man's whole life." +</P> + +<P> +"This girl? This Jack of ours?" +</P> + +<P> +"He hasn't seen it! Why, if I hadn't seen years ago that she had tied +her hands and turned her heart over to you, I'd have been down on my +knees to her a thousand times, begging her for a smile, a shadow of a +hope." +</P> + +<P> +"If I didn't know you, Dick, I'd say that you were partly drunk and +partly a fool." +</P> + +<P> +"Here's a hundred—a cold hundred that I'm right. I'll make it a +thousand, if you dare." +</P> + +<P> +"Dare what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ask her to marry you." +</P> + +<P> +"Marry—me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Damn it all—well, then—whatever you like. But I say that if you go +back into that room and sit still and merely look at her, she'll be in +your arms within five minutes." +</P> + +<P> +"I hate to take charity, but a bet is a bet. That hundred is in my +pocket already. It's a go!" +</P> + +<P> +They shook hands. +</P> + +<P> +"But what will be your proof, Dick, whether I win or lose?" +</P> + +<P> +"Your face, blockhead, when you come out of the room." +</P> + +<P> +Upon this Pierre pondered a moment, and then turned toward the door. +He set his hand on the knob, faltered, and finally set his teeth and +entered the room. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XVIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +FIVE MINUTES' SILENCE +</H3> + + +<P> +She lay as he had left her, except that her face was now pillowed in +her arms, and the long sobs kept her body quivering. Awe and curiosity +swept over Pierre, looking down at her, but chiefly a puzzled grief +such as a strong man feels when a friend is in trouble. He came closer +and laid a hand on her shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Jack!" +</P> + +<P> +She turned far enough to strike his hand away and instantly resumed her +former position, though the sobs were softer. This childish anger +irritated him. He was about to storm out of the room when the thought +of the hundred dollars stopped him. It was not that he hoped to win +the money, for dollars rolled easily into his hands and out again, but +the bet had been made, and it was his pride that he would play out his +part of it. It seemed unsportsmanlike to leave without some effort. +</P> + +<P> +The effort which he finally made was that suggested by Wilbur. He +folded his arms and stood silent, waiting, and ready to judge the time +as nearly as he could until the five minutes should have elapsed. He +was so busy computing the minutes that it was with a start that he +noticed some time later that the weeping had ceased. She lay quiet. +Her hand was dabbing furtively at her face for a purpose which Pierre +could not surmise. +</P> + +<P> +At last a broken voice murmured: "Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +He would not speak, but something in the voice made his anger go. +After a little it came, and louder this time: "Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +He did not stir. +</P> + +<P> +She whirled and sat on the edge of the bunk, crying: "Pierre!" with a +note of fright. Then she flushed richly. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought perhaps you were gone. I thought—Pierre—I was afraid—I +mean I hoped—" +</P> + +<P> +She could not go on. +</P> + +<P> +And still he persisted in that silence, his arms folded, the keen blue +eyes considering her as if from a great distance. +</P> + +<P> +She explained: "I was afraid—Pierre! Why don't you speak? Tell me, +are you angry?" +</P> + +<P> +And she sprang up and made a pace toward him. She had never seemed so +little manlike, so wholly womanly. For the thick coils of hair were +loosed on her head, and the black hair framed a face stained, flushed, +with eyes that were like a great black, bottomless well of sorrow and +wistfulness. And the hand which stretched toward him, palm up, was a +symbol of everything new and strange that he found in her. +</P> + +<P> +He had seen it balled to a small, angry fist, brown and dangerous; he +had seen it gripping the butt of a revolver, ready for the draw; he had +seen it tugging at the reins and holding a racing horse in check with +an ease which a man would envy; but never before had he seen it turned +palm up, to his knowledge; and now, because he could not speak to her, +according to his plan, he studied her thoroughly for the first time. +</P> + +<P> +Slender and marvelously made was that hand. The whole woman was in it, +finely fashioned, delicate, made for beauty, not for use. It was all +he could do to keep from exclaiming. +</P> + +<P> +She made a quick step toward him, eager, uncertain: +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, I thought you had left me—that you were gone, and angry." +</P> + +<P> +The hearts of men are tinder; something caught on fire in Pierre, but +still he would say nothing. He was beginning to feel a cruel pleasure +in his victory, but it was not without a deep sense of danger. +</P> + +<P> +She had laid aside her six-gun, but she had not abandoned it. She had +laid aside her anger, but she could resume it again as swiftly as she +could take up her revolver. +</P> + +<P> +He exulted in the touch of victory, but it was as a man who rides a +horse that paces docilely beneath him but may plunge into a fury of +bucking in a moment. She was closer—very close, and somehow he knew +that at his pleasure he could make her smile or tremble by speaking. +Yet he would not speak. The five minutes were not yet up. +</P> + +<P> +She cried with a little burst of rage: "Pierre, you are making a game +of me!" +</P> + +<P> +But seeing that he did not change she altered swiftly and caught his +hand in both of hers. She spoke the name which she always used when +she was greatly moved. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, Pierre le Rouge, what have I done?" +</P> + +<P> +His silence tempted her on like the smile of the sphinx. +</P> + +<P> +And suddenly she was inside his arms, though how she separated them he +could not tell, and crying: "Pierre, I am unhappy. Help me, Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +It was true, then, and Wilbur had won his bet. But how could it have +happened? He took the arms that encircled his neck and brought them +slowly down, and watched her curiously. Something was expected of him, +but what it was he could not tell, for women were as strange to him as +the wild sea is strange to the Arab. +</P> + +<P> +He hunted his mind, and then: "One of the boys has angered you, Jack?" +</P> + +<P> +And she said, because she could think of no way to cover the confusion +which came to her after the outbreak: "Yes." +</P> + +<P> +He dropped her arms and strode a pace or two up and down the room. +</P> + +<P> +"Gandil?" +</P> + +<P> +"N-no!" +</P> + +<P> +"You're lying. It was Gandil." +</P> + +<P> +And he made straight for the door. +</P> + +<P> +She ran after him and flung herself between him and the door. Clearly, +as if it were a painted picture, she saw him facing Gandil—saw their +hands leap for the guns—saw Gandil pitch face forward on the +floor—writhe all his limbs—and then lie still. "Pierre—for God's +sake!" +</P> + +<P> +Her terror convinced him partially, and the furor went back from his +eyes as a light goes back in a long, dark hall. +</P> + +<P> +"On your honor, Jack, it's not Gandil?" +</P> + +<P> +"On my honor." +</P> + +<P> +"But some one has broken you up." +</P> + +<P> +"No, I—" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't lie. Why, even while you look at me your color changes. You're +pale one minute and red the next. Some one has crossed you, Jack. And +whoever crosses you crosses me, by God! Out with his name! Is it +Branch?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"Then it's big Patterson." +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"I have it! Mansie! There's always something of the sneak about him +that I never liked." +</P> + +<P> +"No, no!" +</P> + +<P> +"It is! He came up to you and whispered some dog's remark for you to +hear. Damn him—I never trusted Mansie!" +</P> + +<P> +He pushed her away from the door and set his hand on the knob, but he +could not keep her back. She was upon him again and twisted between +him and the entrance to the room. +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, upon my honor, it was none of these men." +</P> + +<P> +He could not help but believe. +</P> + +<P> +"Only Wilbur is left. Jack, I'd rather raise my hand against myself +than to harm Dick, but if—" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll never tell you who it was. Don't you see? It would be like a +murder in cold blood if I were to send you after him." +</P> + +<P> +"But he's here—he's one of us, this man who's bothered you." +</P> + +<P> +She could not help but answer: "Yes." +</P> + +<P> +He scowled down at the floor. +</P> + +<P> +"You would never be able to guess who it is. Give it up. After all—I +can live through it—I guess." +</P> + +<P> +"It's something that has saddened you. Do you know, we've been so much +together that I can almost read your mind, in a way. Why are you +smiling?" +</P> + +<P> +"I wish that you could read it—Pierre—at times." +</P> + +<P> +He took her face between his hands and frowned down into her eyes. At +his touch she grew very pale and trembled as If a wind were striking +against her. +</P> + +<P> +"You see, you've been so near to me, and so dear to me all these years, +Jack, that you're like a sister, almost." +</P> + +<P> +"And you to me, Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"But different—nearer even than a sister." +</P> + +<P> +"So much nearer!" +</P> + +<P> +"It's queer, isn't it? But you can't forget this trouble you've had. +The tears come up in your eyes again. Tell me his name, Jack, and the +dog—" +</P> + +<P> +She said: "Only let me go. Take your hands away, Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +He obeyed her, deeply worried, and she stood for a moment with a hand +pressed over her eyes, swaying. He had never seen her like this; he +was like a pilot striving to steer his ship through an unfathomable +fog. Following what had become an instinct with him, he raised his +left hand and touched the cross beneath his throat. And inspiration +came to him. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +PARTNERS +</H3> + + +<P> +"Whether you want to or not, Jack, we'll go to this dance to-night." +</P> + +<P> +Jacqueline's hand fell away from her eyes. She seemed suddenly glad +again. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you want to take me, Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +He explained: "Of course. Besides, we have to keep an eye on Wilbur. +This girl with the yellow hair—" +</P> + +<P> +She had altered swiftly again. There was no understanding her or +following her moods this day. He decided to disregard them, as he had +often done before. +</P> + +<P> +"Black Gandil swears that I'm bringing bad luck to the boys at last. +Patterson has disappeared; Wilbur has lost his head about a girl. +We've got to save Dick." +</P> + +<P> +He knew that she was fond of Wilbur, but she showed no enthusiasm now. +</P> + +<P> +"Let him go his own way. He's big enough to take care of himself." +</P> + +<P> +"But it's common talk, Jack, that the end of Wilbur will come through a +woman. It was that that sent him on the long trail, you know. And +this girl with the yellow hair—" +</P> + +<P> +"Why do you harp on her?" +</P> + +<P> +"Harp on her?" +</P> + +<P> +"Every other word—nothing but yellow hair. I'm sick of it. I know +the kind—faded corn color—dyed, probably. Pierre, you are all blind, +and you most of all." +</P> + +<P> +This being obviously childish, Pierre brushed the consideration of it +from his mind. +</P> + +<P> +"And for clothes, Jack?" +</P> + +<P> +They were both dumb. It had been years since she had worn the clothes +of a woman. She had danced with the men of her father's gang many a +time while some one whistled or played on a mouth-organ, and there was +the time they rode into Beulah Ferry and held up the dance-hall, and +Jim Boone and Mansie lined up the crowd with their hands held high +above their heads while the sweating musicians played fast and furious +and Jack and Pierre danced down the center of the hall. +</P> + +<P> +She had danced many a time, but never in the clothes of a woman; so +they stared, mutely puzzled. +</P> + +<P> +A thought came first to Jacqueline. It obliterated even the memory of +the yellow-haired girl and set her eyes dancing. She stepped close and +murmured her suggestion in the ear of Pierre. Whatever it was, it made +his jaw set hard and brought grave lines into his face. +</P> + +<P> +She stepped back, asking: "Well?" +</P> + +<P> +"We'll do it. What a little demon you are, Jack!" +</P> + +<P> +"Then we'll have to start now. There's barely time." +</P> + +<P> +They ran from the room together, and as they passed through the room +below Wilbur called after them: "The dance?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Wait and go with me." +</P> + +<P> +"We ride in a roundabout way." +</P> + +<P> +They were through the door as Pierre called back, and a moment later +the hoofs of their horses scattered the gravel down the hillside. +Jacqueline rode a black stallion sired by her father's mighty Thunder, +who had grown old but still could do the work of three ordinary horses +in carrying the great bulk of his master. The son of Thunder was +little like his sire, but a slender-limbed racer, graceful, nervous, +eager. A clumsy rider would have ruined the horse in a single day's +hard work among the trails of the mountain-desert, but Jacqueline, +fairly reading the mind of the black, nursed his strength when it was +needed and let him run free and swift when the ground before him was +level. +</P> + +<P> +Now she picked her course dexterously down the hillside with the +cream-colored mare of Pierre following half a length behind. +</P> + +<P> +After the first down-pitch of ground was covered they passed into +difficult terrain, and for half an hour went at a jog trot, winding in +and out among the rocks, climbing steadily up and up through the hills. +</P> + +<P> +Here the ground opened up again, and they roved on at a free gallop, +the black always half a length in front. In all the length of the +mountain-desert there was no other picture which could compare with +these two in their youth and their pride and their fearlessness. +</P> + +<P> +They rode alert, high-headed like their horses, and there was about +them a suggestion of the patience which carries a man endlessly after +one purpose, and a suggestion of the eagerness, too, which makes him +strike swift and hard and surely when the time for action comes. +</P> + +<P> +Along the ridge of a crest, an almost level stretch of a mile or more, +Jack eased the grip on the reins, and the black responded with a sudden +lengthening of stride and lowered his head with ears pressed back flat +while he fairly flew over the ground. +</P> + +<P> +Nothing could match that speed. The strong mare fell to the rear, +fighting gamely, but beaten by that effort of the stallion. +</P> + +<P> +Jack swerved in the saddle and looked back, laughing her triumph. +Pierre smiled grimly in response and leaned forward, shifting his +weight more over the withers of Mary. He spoke to her, and one of her +pricking ears fell back as if to listen to his voice. He spoke again +and the other ear fell back, her neck straightened, she gave her whole +heart to her work. +</P> + +<P> +First she held the stallion even, then she began to gain. That was the +meaning of those round, strong hips, and the breadth of the chest. She +needed a half-mile of running to warm her to her work, and now the +black came back to her with every leap. +</P> + +<P> +The thunder of the approaching hoofs warned the girl. One more glance +she cast in apprehension over her shoulder, and then brought her spurs +into play again and again. Still the rush of hoofs behind her grew +louder and louder, and now there was a panting at her side and the head +of cream-colored Mary drew up and past. +</P> + +<P> +She gave up the battle with a little shout of anger and slowed up her +mount with a sharp pull on the reins. It needed only a word from +Pierre and his mare drew down to a hand-gallop, twisting her head a +little toward the black as if she called for some recognition of her +superiority. +</P> + +<P> +"It's always this way," cried Jack, and jerked at the reins with a +childish impotence of anger. "I beat you for the first quarter of a +mile and then this fool of a horse—I'm going to give him away." +</P> + +<P> +"The black," said Pierre, assuming an air of quiet and superior knowing +which always aggravated her most, "is a good second-rate cayuse when +some one who knows horses is in the saddle. I'd give you fifty for him +on the strength of his looks and keep him for a decoration." +</P> + +<P> +She could only glare her speechless rage for a moment. Then she +changed swiftly and threw out her hands in a little gesture of +surrender. +</P> + +<P> +"After all, what difference does it make? Your Mary can beat him in a +long run or a short one, but it's your horse, Pierre, and that takes +the sting away. If it were any one else's I'd—well, I'd shoot either +the horse or the rider. But my partner's horse is my horse, you know." +</P> + +<P> +She broke into song, the clear voice flinging back from the +mountainside to the cańon that dropped on their right: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"My partner's horse is my horse, bunky—<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">From his fetlock to the bucking-strap,</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">From his flying hoofs to the saddle-flap—</SPAN><BR> +My partner's horse is my horse, bunky.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"My partner's gun is my gun, bunky—<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">From the chamber to the trigger-guard;</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">And the butt like a friend's hand gripping hard—</SPAN><BR> +My partner's gun is my gun, bunky.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +"My partner's heart is my heart, bunky—<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">And like matched horses galloping well,</SPAN><BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">They will beat together through heaven and hell—</SPAN><BR> +My partner's heart is my heart, bunky."<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +He swerved his mare sharply to the left and took her hand with a strong +grip. +</P> + +<P> +"Jack, of all the men I've ever known, I'd rather walk with you, I'd +rather talk with you, I'd rather ride with you, I'd rather fight for +you. Jack, you're the best pal that ever wore spurs, and the gamest +sport." +</P> + +<P> +"Of all the men you ever knew," she said, "I suppose that I am." +</P> + +<P> +He did not hear the low voice, for he was looking out over the cańon +and whistling the refrain of her song happily. A few moments later +they swung out onto the very crest of the range. +</P> + +<P> +On all sides the hills dropped away through the gloom of the evening, +brown near by, but falling off through a faint blue haze and growing +blue-black with the distance. A sharp wind, chill with the coming of +night, cut at them. Not a hundred feet overhead shot a low-winging +hawk back from his day's hunting and rising only high enough to clear +the range and then plunge down toward his nest. +</P> + +<P> +Like the hawks they peered down from their point of vantage into the +profound gloom of the valley below. They shaded their eyes and studied +it with a singular interest for long moments, patient, silent, quiet as +the hawk when he steadies himself in leisurely circles high in the +heart of heaven and fixes his eyes surely on his prey far, far +below—then folds his wings and shoots suddenly down, a veritable bolt +from the blue. +</P> + +<P> +So these two marauders stared until she raised a hand slowly and then +pointed down. He followed the direction she indicated, and there, +through the haze of the evening, he made out a glimmer of lights. +</P> + +<P> +He said sharply: "I know the place, but we'll have a devil of a ride to +get there." +</P> + +<P> +And like the swooping hawk they started down the slope. It was +precipitous in many places, but Pierre kept almost at a gallop, making +the mare take the slopes often crouched back on her haunches with +forefeet braced forward, and sliding many yards at a time. +</P> + +<P> +In between the boulders he darted, twisting here and there, and always +erect and jaunty in the saddle, swaying easily with every movement of +Mary. Not far behind him came the girl. Fine rider that she was, she +could not hope to compete with such matchless horsemanship where man +and horse were only one piece of strong brawn and muscle, one daring +spirit. Many a time the chances seemed too desperate to her, but she +followed blindly where he led, setting her teeth at each succeeding +venture, and coming out safe every time, until they swung out at last +through a screen of brush and onto the level floor of the valley. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +FULL DRESS +</H3> + + +<P> +In the heart of that valley two roads crossed. Many a year before a +man with some imagination and illimitable faith was moved by the +crossing of those roads to build a general merchandise store. +</P> + +<P> +Time justified his faith, in a small way, and now McGuire's store was +famed for leagues and leagues about, for he dared to take chances with +all manner of novelties, and the curious, when their pocketbooks were +full, went to McGuire's to find inspiration. +</P> + +<P> +Business was dull this night, however; there was not a single patron at +the bar, and the store itself was empty, so he went to put out the big +gasoline lamp which hung from the ceiling in the center of the room, +and was on the ladder, reaching high above his head, when a singular +chill caught him in the center of his plump back and radiated from that +spot in all directions, freezing his blood. He swallowed the lump in +his throat and with his arms still stretched toward the lamp he turned +his head and glanced behind. +</P> + +<P> +Two men stood watching him from a position just inside the door. How +they had come there he could never guess, for the floor creaked at the +lightest step. Nevertheless, these fantoms had appeared silently, and +now they must be dealt with. He turned on the ladder to face them, and +still he kept the arms automatically above his head while he descended +to the floor. +</P> + +<P> +However, on a closer examination, these two did not seem particularly +formidable. They were both quite young, one with dark-red hair and a +somewhat overbright eye; the other was hardly more than a boy, very +slender, delicately made, the sort of handsome young scoundrel whom +women cannot resist. +</P> + +<P> +Having made these observations McGuire ventured to lower his arms by +jerks; nothing happened; he was safe. So he vented his feelings by +scowling on the strangers. +</P> + +<P> +"Well," he snapped, "what's up? Too late for business. I'm closin' +up." +</P> + +<P> +The two quite disregarded him. Their eyes were wandering calmly about +the place, and now they rested on the pride of McGuire's store. The +figure of a man in evening clothes, complete from shoes to gloves and +silk hat, stood beside a girl of wax loveliness. She wore a low-cut +gown of dark green, and over her shimmering, cold white shoulders was +draped a scarf of dull gold. Above, a sign said: "You only get married +once; why don't you do it up right?" +</P> + +<P> +"That," said the taller stranger, "ought to do very nicely for us, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +And the younger replied in a curiously light, pleasant voice: "Just +what we want. But how'll I get away with all that fluffy stuff, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +The elder explained: "We're going to a bit of a dance and we'll take +those evening clothes." +</P> + +<P> +The heart of McGuire beat faster and his little eyes took in the +strangers again from head to foot. +</P> + +<P> +"They ain't for sale," he said. "They's just samples. But right over +here—" +</P> + +<P> +"This isn't a question of selling," said the red-headed man. "We've +come to accept a little donation, McGuire." +</P> + +<P> +The storekeeper grew purple and white in patches. Still there was no +show of violence, no display of guns; he moved his hand toward his own +weapon, and still the strangers merely smiled quietly on him. He +decided that he had misunderstood, and went on: "Over here I got a line +of goods that you'll like. Just step up and—" +</P> + +<P> +The younger man, frowning now, replied: "We don't want to see any more +of your junk. The clothes on the models suit us all right. Slip 'em +off, McGuire." +</P> + +<P> +"But—" began McGuire and then stopped. +</P> + +<P> +His first suspicion returned with redoubled force; above all, that head +of dark red hair made him thoughtful. He finished hoarsely: "What the +hell's this?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why," smiled the taller man, "you've never done much in the interests +of charity, and now's a good time for you to start. Hurry up, McGuire; +we're late already!" +</P> + +<P> +There was a snarl from the storekeeper, and he went for his gun, but +something in the peculiarly steady eyes of the two made him stop with +his fingers frozen hard around the butt. A mighty sickness overwhelmed +McGuire, and before his eyes there swam a dark mist. +</P> + +<P> +He whispered: "You're Red Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +"The clothes," repeated Pierre sternly, "on the jump, McGuire." +</P> + +<P> +And with a jump McGuire obeyed. His hands trembled so that he could +hardly remove the scarf from the shoulders of the model, but afterward +fear made his fingers supple. He lifted up the green gown; white, +filmy clothes showed underneath. +</P> + +<P> +There came a sharp cry from Jack: "Turn away, Pierre; turn quick and +don't dare to look. I'll take care of McGuire." +</P> + +<P> +And Pierre le Rouge turned, grinning. When she told him that he could +look again, he found her with a bright spot of color in either cheek, +and her eyes avoided his. It thrilled Pierre, and yet it troubled him, +for she seemed changed, all at once, less of a comrade, and strangely +aloof. McGuire was doing up the clothes in two bundles. +</P> + +<P> +Jacqueline took one of them and Pierre the other under his left arm; +with his right hand he drew out some yellow coins. +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't buy these clothes because I didn't have the time to dicker +with you, McGuire. I've heard you talk prices before, you know. But +here's what the clothes are worth to us." +</P> + +<P> +And into the quaking hands of McGuire he poured a chinking stream of +gold pieces. +</P> + +<P> +Relief, amazement, and a very wholesome fear struggled in the face of +McGuire as he saw himself threefold overpaid. At that little yellow +heap he remained staring, unheeding the sound of the retreating +outlaws. At it he still stared with fascinated eyes while the door +banged and the clatter of galloping hoofs began. +</P> + +<P> +"It ain't possible," he said at last, "thieves have begun to pay." +</P> + +<P> +His eyes sought the ceiling. +</P> + +<P> +"So that's Red Pierre?" said McGuire. +</P> + +<P> +As for Pierre and Jacqueline, they were instantly safe in the black +heart of the mountains. Many a mile of hard riding lay before them, +however, and already the dance must be nearly ready to begin in the +Crittenden schoolhouse. There was no road, not even a trail that they +could follow. They had never even seen the Crittenden schoolhouse; +they knew its location only by vague descriptions. +</P> + +<P> +But they had ridden a thousand times in places far more bewildering and +less known to them. Like all true denizens of the mountain-desert, +they had a sense of direction as uncanny as that of an Eskimo. Now +they struck off confidently through the dark and trailed up and down +through the mountains until they reached a hollow in the center of +which shone a group of dim lights. It was the schoolhouse near the +Barnes place, the scene of the dance. +</P> + +<P> +So they turned back behind the hills and in the covert of a group of +cottonwoods they kindled two more little fires, shading them on three +sides with rocks and leaving them open for the sake of light on the +fourth. +</P> + +<P> +They worked busily for a time, without a word spoken by either of them. +The only sound was the rustling of Jacqueline's stolen silks and the +purling of a small stream of water near them, some meager spring. +</P> + +<P> +But presently: "P-P-Pierre, I'm f-freezing." +</P> + +<P> +He himself was numbed by the chill air and paused in the task of +thrusting a leg into the trousers, which persisted in tangling and +twisting under his foot. +</P> + +<P> +"So'm I. It's c-c-cold as the d-d-d-devil." +</P> + +<P> +"And these—th-things—aren't any thicker than spider webs." +</P> + +<P> +"Wait. I'll build you a great big fire." +</P> + +<P> +And he scooped up a number of dead twigs. +</P> + +<P> +"P-P-Pierre! D-d-d-don't you d-d-dare c-come in s-sight of m-me." +</P> + +<P> +"D-d-damn it! I don't want to see you." +</P> + +<P> +"P-Pierre! Aren't you ash-sh-sh-shamed to talk like that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Jack, this damned collar won't button." +</P> + +<P> +"K-k-eep t-t-t-trying." +</P> + +<P> +"Come help me." +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre! How can I come dressed like th-th-this?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm n-n-not going to the dance." +</P> + +<P> +"P-P-P-Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm not." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I am." +</P> + +<P> +"W-w-w-without me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Y-y-yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Jack, you're a flirt." +</P> + +<P> +"I hate you, Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +"Thank G-G-G-God! The collar's on." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't tie this—th-th-thing." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll come help you." +</P> + +<P> +"N-n-n-no!" +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"The thing that g-g-goes around me." +</P> + +<P> +"C-c-c-corset?" +</P> + +<P> +A silence. +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +"W-well?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's t-t-tied!" +</P> + +<P> +"But this damned tie isn't!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do it for you." +</P> + +<P> +And then: "N-n-no. Go b-b-b-back!" +</P> + +<P> +He fixed the eye-glass on his nose and laughed at the thought of +himself. +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've got the dress on." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I can come?" +</P> + +<P> +He was warm enough now, with the suit on and even the tie knotted, +after a fashion. +</P> + +<P> +"No. I st-t-till feel just n-n-n-naked, Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"Is there something missing?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Around the shoulders." +</P> + +<P> +"Take the scarf." +</P> + +<P> +There was an interlude of more rustling, then: +</P> + +<P> +"P-P-Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" +</P> + +<P> +"I wish I had a m-m-m-mirror." +</P> + +<P> +"Jack, are you vain?" +</P> + +<P> +A cry of delight answered him. He threw caution to the winds and +advanced on her. He found her kneeling above a pool of water fed by +the soft sliding little stream from the spring. With one hand she held +a burning twig by way of a torch, and with the other she patted her +hair into shape and finally thrust the comb into the glittering, heavy +coils. +</P> + +<P> +She started, as if she felt his presence without looking, and knelt +with body erect. +</P> + +<P> +"P-P-Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" +</P> + +<P> +"C-c-c-close your eyes." +</P> + +<P> +He obeyed. +</P> + +<P> +"Look!" +</P> + +<P> +She stood with the torch high overhead, and he saw a beauty so glorious +that he closed his eyes involuntarily and still he saw the vision in +the dull-green gown, with the scarf of old gold about her shoulders and +the skin peering out here and there, dazzling white. And there were +two lights, the barbaric red of the jewels in her hair, and the black +shimmer of her eyes. He drew back a step more. It was a picture to be +looked at from a distance. +</P> + +<P> +She ran to him with a cry of dismay: +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, what's wrong with me?" +</P> + +<P> +His arms went round her of their own accord. It was the only place +they could go. And all this fragrant, marvelous beauty was held in the +circle of his will. +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't that, but you're so wonderful, Jack, so glorious, that I +hardly know you. You're like a different person." +</P> + +<P> +He felt the warm body trembling, and the thought that it was not +entirely from the cold set his heart beating like a trip-hammer. What +he felt was so strange to him that he stepped back in a vague alarm, +and then laughed. She stood with a half whimsical half expectant smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Jack, how am I to risk you in the arms of all the strangers in that +dance?" +</P> + +<P> +The light of Alexander when he dreamed of new worlds to conquer came +into those wide black eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"It's late. Listen!" +</P> + +<P> +She cupped a hand at her ear and leaned to listen. Up from the hollow +below them came a faint strain of music, a very light sound that was +drowned a moment later by the solemn rushing of the wind through the +great trees above them. +</P> + +<P> +They looked up of one accord. +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, what was that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing; the wind in the branches, that's all." +</P> + +<P> +"It was a hushing sound. It was like—it was like a warning, almost." +</P> + +<P> +But he was already turning away, and she followed him hastily. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE DANCE +</H3> + + +<P> +Jacqueline could never back a horse in that gown, or even sit sidewise +in the saddle without hopelessly crumpling it, so they walked to the +schoolhouse. It was a slow progress, for she had to step lightly and +carefully for fear of the slippers. He took her bare arm and helped +her; he would never have thought of it under ordinary conditions, but +since she had put on this gown she was greatly changed to him, no +longer the wild, free rider of the mountain-desert, but a defenseless, +strangely weak being. Her strength was now something other than the +skill to ride hard and shoot straight and quick. +</P> + +<P> +Greatest wonder of all, she accepted the new relation tacitly, and +leaned more and more weight on his hand, and even looked up and laughed +with pleasure when he almost lifted her over a muddy runlet. It was +all new, very strange, and, oddly enough, not unpleasant. Each was +viewing the other from such an altered point that neither spoke. +</P> + +<P> +So they came to the schoolhouse in this silence, and reached the long +line of buggies, buckboards, and, most of all, saddled horses. They +flooded the horse-shed where the school children stabled their mounts +in the winter weather. They were tethered to the posts of the fence; +they were grouped about the trees. +</P> + +<P> +It was a prodigious gathering, and a great affair for the +mountain-desert. They knew this even before they had set foot within +the building. +</P> + +<P> +They stopped here and adjusted their masks carefully. They were made +from a strip of black lining which Jack had torn from one of the coats +in the trunk which lay far back in the hills. +</P> + +<P> +Those masks had to be tied firmly and well, for some jester might try +to pull away that of Pierre, and if his face were seen, it would be +death—a slaughter without defense, for he had not been able to conceal +his big Colt in these tight-fitting clothes. Even as it was, there was +peril from the moment that the lights within should shine on that head +of dark-red hair. +</P> + +<P> +As for Jack, there was little fear that she would be recognized. She +was strange even to Pierre every time he looked down at her, for she +had ceased to be Jack and had become very definitely "Jacqueline." But +the masks were on; the scarf adjusted about the throat and bare, +shivering shoulders of Jack, and they stood arm in arm before the door +out of which streamed the voices and the music. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you ready?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre—if they should find us out—" +</P> + +<P> +"Never in a thousand years. Are you ready?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +But she was trembling so, either from fear, or excitement, or both, +that he had to take a firm hold on her arm and almost carry her up the +steps, shove the door open, and force her in. +</P> + +<P> +A hundred eyes were instantly upon them, practised, suspicious eyes, +accustomed to search into all things and take nothing for granted; eyes +of men who, when a rap came at their door, looked to see whether or not +the shadow of the stranger fell full in the center of the crack beneath +the door. If it fell to one side the man might be an enemy, and +therefore they would stand at one side of the room, their hands upon +the butt of the six-gun, and shout: "Come in." Such was the battery of +glances from the men, and the color of Pierre altered, paled. +</P> + +<P> +He knew some of those faces, for those who hunt and are hunted never +forget the least gestures of their enemies. There was a mighty +temptation to turn back even then, but he set his teeth and forced +himself to stand calmly, adjust the absurd eye-glass on his nose, and +stare about the room. +</P> + +<P> +The chuckle which replied to this maneuver freed him for the moment. +Suspicion was lulled. Moreover, the red-jeweled hair of Jacqueline and +her lighted eyes called all attention almost immediately upon her. She +shifted the golden scarf—the white arms and breast flashed in the +light—a gasp responded. There would be talk to-morrow; there were +whispers even now. +</P> + +<P> +It was not the main hall that they stood in, for this school, having +been built by an aspiring community, contained two rooms; this smaller +room, used by the little ones of the school, was now converted into a +hat-and-cloak room, and here also were a dozen baskets and boxes filled +with comforters and blankets. +</P> + +<P> +It was because of what lay in those baskets that the men and the women +walked and talked softly in this room. They were wary lest they should +arouse a sound which not even the loudest music could quite drown—a +sound which makes all women sit up straight and sniff like hunted +animals at bay, and makes all men frown and glance about for places of +refuge. +</P> + +<P> +Now and then some girl came panting and flushed from the dance-hall +within and tiptoed to one of these baskets, and raised an edge of a +blanket and looked down at the contents with a singular smile. Pierre +hung up his hat, removed his gloves slowly, nerving himself to endure +the sharp glances, and opened the door for Jacqueline. +</P> + +<P> +If she had held back tremulously before, something she had seen in the +eyes of those in the first room, something in the whisper and murmur +which rose the moment she started to leave, gave her courage. She +stepped into the dance-hall like a queen going forth to address devoted +subjects. +</P> + +<P> +The second ordeal was easier than the first. There were many times +more people in that crowded room, but each was intent upon his own +pleasure. A wave of warmth and light swept upon them, and a blare of +music, and a stir and hum of voices, and here and there the sweet sound +of a happy girl's laughter. They raised their heads, these two wild +rangers of the mountain-desert, and breathed deep of the fantastic +scene. +</P> + +<P> +It was marvelous, indeed, that so much gay life could exist within the +arms of those gaunt, naked hills beyond the windows. There was no +attempt at beauty in the costumes of the masqueraders. Here and there +some girl achieved a novel and pleasing effect; but on the whole they +strove for cheaper and more stirring things in the line of the +grotesque. +</P> + +<P> +Here passed a youth wearing a beard made from the stiff, red bristles +of the tail of a sorrel horse. Another wore a bear's head cunningly +stuffed, the grinning teeth flashing over his head and the skin draped +over his shoulders. A third disfigured himself horribly by painting +after the fashion of an Indian on the war-path, with crimson streaks +down his forehead and red and black across his cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +But not more than a third of all the assembly made any effort to +masquerade, beyond the use of the simple black mask across the upper +part of the face. The rest of the men and women contented themselves +with wearing the very finest clothes they could afford to buy, and +there was through the air a scent of the general merchandise store +which not even a liberal use of cheap perfume and all the drifts of +pale-blue cigarette smoke could quite overcome. +</P> + +<P> +As for the music, it was furnished by two very old men, relics of the +days when there were contests in fiddling; a stout fellow of middle +age, with cheeks swelled almost to bursting as he thundered out +terrific blasts on a slide trombone; a youth who rattled two sticks on +an overturned dish-pan in lieu of a drum, and a cornetist of real skill. +</P> + +<P> +In an interlude, before very long, he would amuse with a solo, +including all sorts of runs and whistling notes, and be a source of +talk for many a month to come. +</P> + +<P> +There were hard faces in the crowd, most of them, of men who had set +their teeth against hard weather and hard men, and fought their way +through, not to happiness, but to existence, so that fighting had +become their pleasure. +</P> + +<P> +Now they relaxed their eternal vigilance, their eternal suspicion. +Another phase of their nature weakened. Some of them were smiling and +laughing for the first time in months, perhaps, of bitter labor and +loneliness on the range. With the gates of good-nature opened, a +veritable flood of gaiety burst out. It glittered in their eyes, it +rose to their lips in a wild laughter. They seemed to be dancing more +furiously fast in order to forget the life which they had left, and to +which they must return. +</P> + +<P> +And through all the cheapness there was a great note of poetry as well; +but one caught this only by a sense of intuition, or by remembering +that these were the conquerors of the bitter nature of the +mountain-desert. There was beauty here, the beauty of strength in the +men and a brown loveliness in the girls; just as in the music, the +blatancy of the rattling dish-pan and the blaring trombone were more +than balanced by the real skill of the violinists, who kept a high, +sweet, singing tone through all the clamor. +</P> + +<P> +One could close his ears to the rest of the noise, if he strove to do +so, and hear nothing but that harmonious moaning of the strings, steady +and clear, like the aspirations of a man divorced from the facts of his +weakness and his crudeness in practical life. +</P> + +<P> +And Pierre le Rouge and Jacqueline? They stood aghast for a moment +when that crash of noise broke around them; but they came from a life +where there was nothing of beauty except the lonely strength of the +mountains and the appalling silences of the stars that roll above the +desert. Almost at once they caught the overtone of human joyousness, +and they turned with strange smiles to each other, and it was "Pierre?" +"Jack?" Then a nod, and she was in his arms, and they glided into the +dance. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE OVERTONE +</H3> + + +<P> +When a crowd gathers in the street, there rises a babel of voices, a +confused and pointless clamor, no matter what the purpose of the +gathering, until some man who can think as well as shout begins to +speak. Then the crowd murmurs a moment, and after a few seconds +composes itself to listen. +</P> + +<P> +So it was with the noise in the hall when Pierre and Jacqueline began +to dance. First there were smiles of derision and envy around them, +but after a moment a little hush came where they moved, and then men +began to note the smile of the girl and the whiteness of that round +throat, and the grace of the bare, tapering arms. +</P> + +<P> +So a whisper went around the room, and there began a craning of necks +and an exchange of nods. All that crowd became in a moment no more +than the chorus which fills the background of the stage when the +principals step out from the wings. +</P> + +<P> +They could not help but dance well, for they had youth and grace and +strength, and the glances of applause and envy were like wine to +quicken their blood, while above all they caught the overtone of the +singing violins, and danced by that alone. The music ended with a long +flourish just as they whirled to a stop in a corner of the room. At +once an eddy of men started toward them. +</P> + +<P> +"Who shall it be?" smiled Pierre. "With whom do you want to dance? +It's your triumph, Jack." +</P> + +<P> +She was alight and alive with the victory, and her eyes roved over the +crowd. +</P> + +<P> +"The big man with the tawny hair." +</P> + +<P> +"But he's making right past us." +</P> + +<P> +"No; he'll turn and come back." +</P> + +<P> +"How do you know?" +</P> + +<P> +For answer she glanced up and laughed, and he realized with a singular +sense of loneliness that she knew many things which were beyond his +ken. Some one touched his arm, and a voice, many voices, beset him: +</P> + +<P> +"How's the chances for a dance with the girl, partner?" +</P> + +<P> +"My name's McCormack. Riley? Glad to know you. I've got a flask on +the hip, Riley; what's the chance of making a trade on this next dance?" +</P> + +<P> +"How do we swap partners? Mine is the rangy girl with the red topknot. +Not much on looks, Bill, but a cayuse don't cover ground on his looks. +Dance? Say, Bill, she'll rock you to sleep!" +</P> + +<P> +"This dance is already booked," Pierre answered, and kept his eyes on +the tall man with the scarred face and the resolute jaw. He wondered +profoundly why Jacqueline had chosen such a partner. +</P> + +<P> +At least she had prophesied correctly, for the big man turned toward +them just as he seemed about to head for another part of the hall. The +crowd gave way before him, not that he shouldered them aside, but they +seemed to feel the coming of his shadow before him, and separated as +they would have done before the shadow of a falling tree. +</P> + +<P> +In another moment Pierre found himself looking up to the giant. No +mask could disguise him, neither cover that long, twisting mark of +white down his cheek, nor hide the square set of the jaw, nor dim the +keen steady eyes. Upon him there was written at large: "This is a man." +</P> + +<P> +And there came to Pierre an exceedingly great uneasiness in his right +hand, and a twitching of the fingers low down on his thigh where the +familiar holster should have hung. His left hand rose, following the +old instinct, and touched beneath his throat where the cold cross lay. +</P> + +<P> +He was saying easily: "This is your dance, isn't it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Right, Bud," answered the big man in a mellow voice as great as his +size. "Sorry I can't swap partners with you, but I hunt alone." +</P> + +<P> +An overwhelming desire to get a distance between himself and this huge +unknown came to Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +He said: "There goes the music. You're off." +</P> + +<P> +And the other, moving toward Jack, leaned down a little and murmured at +the ear of the outlaw: "Thanks, Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +Then he was gone, and Jacqueline was laughing over his shoulder back to +Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +Through his daze and through the rising clamor of the music, a voice +said beside him: "You look sort of sick, dude. Who's your friend?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you know him?" asked Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +"No more than I do you; but I've ridden the range for ten years around +here, and I know that he's new to these parts. If I'd ever glimpsed +him before, I'd remember him. He'd be a bad man in a mix, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +And Pierre answered with devout earnestness: "He would." +</P> + +<P> +"But where 'd you buy those duds, pal? Hey, look! Here's what I've +been waiting for—the Barneses and the girl that's visitin' 'em from +the East." +</P> + +<P> +"What girl?" +</P> + +<P> +"Look!" +</P> + +<P> +The Barnes group was passing through the door, and last came the +unmistakable form of Dick Wilbur, masked, but not masked enough to hide +his familiar smile or cover the well-known sound of his laughter as it +drifted to Pierre across the hall, and on his arm was a girl in an +evening dress of blue, with a small, black mask across her eyes, and +deep-golden hair. +</P> + +<P> +Pausing before she swung into the dance with Wilbur, she made a gesture +with the white arm, and looked up laughing to big, handsome Dick. +Pierre trembled, and his heart beat once and stopped. +</P> + +<P> +As he watched, the song which Dick had sung came like a monotonous, +religious chant within him: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +They call me poor, yet I am rich<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">In the touch of her golden hair;</SPAN><BR> +My heart is filled like a miser's hands<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">With the red-gold of her hair.</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> +The only sky I ride beneath<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Is the dear blue of her eyes,</SPAN><BR> +The only heaven I desire<BR> +<SPAN STYLE="margin-left: 1em">Is the blue of her dear eyes.</SPAN><BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +But even the memory of the song died in him while he watched her dance, +and saw the lights and shadows flit across the smooth shoulders; and +when he saw the hands of Wilbur about her, a red rage came up in him. +</P> + +<P> +Dick in passing, marked that stare above the heads of the crowd, and +frowned with trouble. The hungry eyes of Pierre followed them as they +circled the hall again; and this time Wilbur, perhaps fearing that +something had gone wrong with Pierre, steered close to the edge of the +dancing crowd and looked inquisitively across. +</P> + +<P> +He leaned and spoke to the girl, and she turned her head, smiling, to +Pierre. Then the smile went out, and even despite the mask, he saw +that her eyes had widened. The heart of Pierre grew thunderous with +music. She had stopped and slipped from the arm of Wilbur, and came +step by step slowly toward him like one walking in her sleep. +</P> + +<P> +There, by the edge of the dancers, with the noise of the music and the +laughter and the shuffling feet to cover them, they met. The hands she +held to him were cold and trembling. He only knew that they were +marvelously soft, and that they faltered and closed strongly about his +own. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it you?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is I." +</P> + +<P> +That was all; and then the shadow of Wilbur loomed above them. +</P> + +<P> +"What's this? Do you know each other? It isn't possible! Pierre, are +you playing a game with me?" +</P> + +<P> +But under the glance of Pierre he fell back a step, and reached for the +gun which was not there. They were alone once more. +</P> + +<P> +"Mary—Mary Brown!" +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +"But you are dead!" +</P> + +<P> +"No, no! But you—Pierre——" +</P> + +<P> +"It was a miracle—the cross—that saved me." +</P> + +<P> +"Where can we go?" +</P> + +<P> +"Outside." +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Hold my arm close—so I'll know it isn't just dreaming. And go +quickly!" +</P> + +<P> +"They are staring at us—the fools—as if they were trying to +understand." +</P> + +<P> +"We'll be followed?" +</P> + +<P> +"Never." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you need a wrap?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +"But it is cold outside, and your shoulders are bare." +</P> + +<P> +"Then take that cloak. But quickly, Pierre, before we're followed." +</P> + +<P> +He drew it about her; he led her through the door; it clicked shut; +they were alone with the sweet, frosty air about them. She tore away +the mask, and her beauty struck him like the moon when it drops +suddenly through a mist of clouds. +</P> + +<P> +"And yours, Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not here." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because there are people. Hurry. Now here, with just the trees +around us——" +</P> + +<P> +And he tore off the mask. +</P> + +<P> +The white, cold moon shone over them, slipping down between the dark +tops of the trees, and the wind stirred slowly through the branches +with a faint, hushing sound, as if once more a warning were coming to +Pierre this night. He looked up, his left hand at the cross. +</P> + +<P> +"Look down. You are afraid of something, Pierre. What is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"With your arms around my neck, there's nothing in the world I fear. +Mary, I loved you all this time." +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre—and I——" +</P> + +<P> +"But you have grown so tall—so strange—I can hardly feel——" +</P> + +<P> +"And you—so stern and old." +</P> + +<P> +"I never dreamed I could love anything more than the little girl who +lay in the snow, and died there that night." +</P> + +<P> +"And I never dreamed I could smile at any man except the boy who lay by +me that night. And he died." +</P> + +<P> +"What miracle saved you?" +</P> + +<P> +She said: "It was wonderful, and yet very simple. You remember how the +tree crushed me down into the snow? Well, when the landslide moved, it +carried the tree before it; the weight of the trunk was lifted from me. +Perhaps it was a rock that struck me over the head then, for I lost +consciousness. The slide didn't bury me, but the rush carried me +before it like a stick before a wave, you see. +</P> + +<P> +"When I woke I was almost completely covered with a blanket of debris, +but I could move my arms, and managed to prop myself up in a sitting +posture. It was there that my father and his searching party found me; +he had been combing that district all night. They carried me back, +terribly bruised, but without even a bone broken. It was a miracle +that I escaped, and the miracle must have been worked by your cross; do +you remember?" +</P> + +<P> +He shuddered and threw a hand up before his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Dearest——" +</P> + +<P> +"It's nothing—but the cross—for every good fortune it has brought me, +it has brought bad luck to others." +</P> + +<P> +"Hush, Pierre. Put your arms around me. I am all yours—all. You +must not think of the trouble or the cross." +</P> + +<P> +He obeyed and drew her close to him, and the warm slender body gave to +him and lay close against his; and her head went back, and the curve of +her soft lips was close to his. He kissed her, reverently, and then, +with passion, the lips, the eyes, the throat, that quivered as if she +were singing. +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, I have said good night to you every time before I went to +sleep all these years." +</P> + +<P> +"And I've looked for you in the face of every woman." +</P> + +<P> +"And I used to think that a still, small voice answered me out of the +night." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, my dear, there was a voice; for I've loved you so hard that it +must have been like a hand at your shoulder tapping, and asking you to +remember me. Mary, you are crying." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm so happy; I can't help it. It's as if—as if—Pierre——" +</P> + +<P> +"Dear, my dear." +</P> + +<P> +"Hold me closer. I want to feel your strength around me, so that I +know I can never lose you again." +</P> + +<P> +"Never." +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me again that you love me." +</P> + +<P> +"I love you." +</P> + +<P> +"I love you, Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +Then the wind spoke for them, using the trees for a harp above them. +She looked up to him, and saw the nodding branches above his head, and +higher still, the cold and changeless radiance of the stars. He bent +back her head and stared so grimly down into her eyes that her smile +ceased tremulously. +</P> + +<P> +"Mary, what is the perfume?" +</P> + +<P> +"None, except the scent of the pines and the sweet, cold air of the +night, Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"There is something more. It's as if the wind had taken all the +fragrance from a thousand miles of wild flowers, and brought them +blended and faint and sweeter than anything else in the world. It is +you, Mary, you are so beautiful. How many men have told you that you +are beautiful?" +</P> + +<P> +"None have told me; at least I've listened to them with only half my +heart." +</P> + +<P> +"What have they told you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing, except words about eyes and lips, and things like that." +</P> + +<P> +"And your hair?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes, they never forget that." +</P> + +<P> +"Then there is nothing left for me to say, except that God made you so +that I could love you with all my heart. And while I hold you here and +hunt for things to say, my mind goes rushing out to great things—the +sea, the mountains, the wind, the cold, quiet, beautiful stars. But +you are unhappy to hear me. Look! The big tears come one by one in +your eyes, and roll down your face." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm so happy, Pierre, that I cannot help but be sad a little." +</P> + +<P> +"But never after this. We will always be happy." +</P> + +<P> +"Always and always." +</P> + +<P> +"Mary, I have ridden all day over a burning hot desert and come under +the mountains at night and looked up, and I've seen the white, pure +snow with the blue of the sky behind it. You are like that to me. But +you will be cold out here; I musn't go on saying nothings like this." +</P> + +<P> +"I love it, Pierre. I won't have you stop." +</P> + +<P> +"Sit here on this stump—now, I'll sit at your feet." +</P> + +<P> +"No, beside me, please, Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"I will not move. Give me your hands. Now, when I look up your face +is framed by a tree-top that goes nodding from one side to the other, +and I look up at your eyes and past them at the stars until I know that +our love is like them, and free as the wind. Mary, my dearest, your +cold hand that I kiss is more to me than oceans of silver, or mountains +of gold." +</P> + +<P> +"Now, if we could both die, this would never end. But it will never +end in spite of to-morrow, will it? You will go back home with me." +</P> + +<P> +"Go home with you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Take my hand again. Pierre, what has happened? What have I done? +What have I said?" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE FEAR OF THE LIVING +</H3> + + +<P> +But he only stared gravely up to her with such a sorrow that her heart +went cold. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing—but I've remembered." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's the cross. It brings luck and bad fortune together. Mary, I'll +throw it away, now—and then—no, it makes no difference. We are done +for." +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you see, Mary, or are you still blind as I was ever since I saw +you tonight? It's all in that name—Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"There nothing in it, Pierre, that I don't love." +</P> + +<P> +He rose, and she with him. His head was bowed as if with the weight of +the doom which he foresaw. +</P> + +<P> +"You have heard of the wild men of the mountains, and the long-riders?" +</P> + +<P> +He knew that she nodded, though she could not speak. +</P> + +<P> +"I am Red Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"<I>You</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +Yet he had the courage to raise his head and watch her shrink with +horror. It was only an instant. Then she was beside him again, and +one arm around him, while she turned her head and glanced fearfully +back at the lighted schoolhouse. The faint music mocked them. +</P> + +<P> +"And you dared to come to the dance? We must go. Look, there are +horses! We'll ride off into the mountains, and they'll never find +us—we'll——" +</P> + +<P> +"Hush! One day's riding would kill you—riding as I ride." +</P> + +<P> +"I'm strong—-very strong, and the love of you, Pierre, will give me +more strength. But quickly, for if they knew you, every man in that +place would come armed and ready to kill. I know, for I've heard them +talk. Tell me, are one-half of all the terrible things they say——" +</P> + +<P> +"They are true, I guess." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't think of them. Whatever you've done, it was not you, but some +devil that forced you on. Pierre, I love you more than ever. Will you +go East with me, and home? We will lose ourselves in New York. The +millions of the crowd will hide us." +</P> + +<P> +"Mary, there are some men from whom even the night can't hide me. If +they were blind their hate would give them eyes to find me." +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, you are not turning away from me—Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +"God help me." +</P> + +<P> +"He will. There's some ghost of a chance for us. Will you take that +chance and come with me?" +</P> + +<P> +He thought of many things, but what he answered was: "I will." +</P> + +<P> +"Then let's go at once. The railroad——" +</P> + +<P> +"Not that way. No one in that house suspects me now. We'll go back +and put on our masks again, and—hush, what's there?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing." +</P> + +<P> +"There is—a man's step." +</P> + +<P> +And she, seeing the look on his face, covered her eyes in nameless +horror. When she looked up a great form was looming through the dark, +and then the voice of Wilbur came, hard and cold. +</P> + +<P> +"I've looked everywhere for you. Miss Brown, they are anxious about +you in the schoolhouse. Will you go back?" +</P> + +<P> +"No—I——" +</P> + +<P> +But Pierre commanded: "Go back." +</P> + +<P> +So she turned, and he ordered again: "I think our friend has something +to say to me. You can find your way easily. To-morrow——" +</P> + +<P> +"To-morrow, Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall be waiting." +</P> + +<P> +With what a voice she said it! And then she was gone. +</P> + +<P> +He turned quietly to big Dick Wilbur, on whose contorted face the +moonlight fell. +</P> + +<P> +"Say it, Dick, and have it out in cursing me, if that 'll help." +</P> + +<P> +The big man stood with his hands gripped hard behind him, fighting for +self-control. +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, I've cared for you more than I've cared for any other man. +I've thought of you like a kid brother. Now tell me that you haven't +done this thing, and I'll believe you rather than my senses. Tell me +you haven't come like a thief in the night and stolen the girl I love +away from me; tell me——" +</P> + +<P> +"If you keep on like that, you'll end by jumping at my throat. Hold +yourself, Dick." +</P> + +<P> +"I will if you'll tell me that you haven't——" +</P> + +<P> +"I love her, Dick." +</P> + +<P> +"Damn you! And she?" +</P> + +<P> +"She'll forget me; God knows I hope she'll forget me." +</P> + +<P> +"I brought two guns with me. Here they are." +</P> + +<P> +He held out the weapons. +</P> + +<P> +"Take your choice." +</P> + +<P> +"Does it have to be this way?" +</P> + +<P> +"If you'd rather have me shoot you down in cold blood?" +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose this is as good a way as any." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing. Give me a gun." +</P> + +<P> +"Here. This is ten paces. Are you ready?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre. God forgive you for what you've done. She liked me, I know. +If it weren't for you, I would have won her and a chance for real life +again—but now—damn you!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll count to ten, slowly and evenly. When I reach ten we fire?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll trust you not to beat the count, Dick." +</P> + +<P> +"And I you. Start." +</P> + +<P> +He counted quietly, evenly: "One, two, three, four, five six, seven, +eight, nine—ten." +</P> + +<P> +The gun jerked up in the hand of Wilbur, but he stayed the movement +with his finger pressing still upon the trigger. The hand of Pierre +had not moved. +</P> + +<P> +He cried: "By God, Pierre, what do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +There was no answer. He strode across the intervening space dropped +his gun, and caught the other by the shoulders. Out of the nerveless +fingers of Pierre the revolver slipped and crushed a dead twig on the +ground, and a pair of lifeless eyes stared up to Dick Wilbur. +</P> + +<P> +"In the name of God, Pierre, what has happened to you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Dick, why didn't you fire?" +</P> + +<P> +"Fire? Murder you?" +</P> + +<P> +"You shoot straight—I know—it would have been over quickly." +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, boy? You look dead—there's no color in your face, no +light in your eyes, even your voice is dead. I know it isn't fear. +What is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"You're wrong. It's fear." +</P> + +<P> +"Fear and Red Pierre. The two don't mate." +</P> + +<P> +"Fear of living, Dick." +</P> + +<P> +"So that's it? God help you. Pierre, forgive me. I should have known +that you had met her before, but I was mad, and didn't know what I was +doing, couldn't think." +</P> + +<P> +"It's over and forgotten. I have to go back and get Jack. Will you +ride home with us?" +</P> + +<P> +"Jack? She's not in the hall. She left shortly after you went, and +she means some deviltry. There's a jealous fiend in that girl. I +watched her eyes when they followed you and Mary from the hall." +</P> + +<P> +"Then we'll ride back alone." +</P> + +<P> +"Not I. Carry the word to Jim that I'm through with the game. I'm +going to wash some of the grime off my conscience and try to make +myself fit to speak to this girl again." +</P> + +<P> +"It's the cross," said Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing. The bad luck has come to poor old Jim at last, because he +saved me out of the snow. Patterson has gone, and now you, and perhaps +Jack—well, this is good-by, Dick?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +Their hands met, a long, strong grip. +</P> + +<P> +"You forgive me, Dick?" +</P> + +<P> +"With all my heart, old fellow." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll try to wish you luck. Stay close to her. Live clean for her +sake and worship her like a saint. Perhaps you'll win her." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll do what one man can." +</P> + +<P> +"But if you succeed, ride out of the mountain-desert with her—never +let me hear of it." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't understand. Will you tell me what's between you, Pierre? +You've some sort of claim on her. What is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"I've said good-by. Only one thing more. Never mention my name to +her." +</P> + +<P> +So he turned and walked out into the moonlight in the immaculate +dress-suit and big Wilbur stared after him until he disappeared beyond +the shoulder of a hill. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE LUCK OF THE SHIPWRECKED +</H3> + + +<P> +It was early morning before Pierre reached the refuge of Boone's gang, +but there was still a light through the window of the large room, and +he entered to find Boone, Mansie, and Gandil grouped about the fire, +all ominously silent, all ominously wakeful. They looked up to him and +big Jim nodded his gray head. Otherwise there was no greeting. +</P> + +<P> +From a shadowy corner Jacqueline rose and went toward the door. He +crossed quickly and barred the way. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it, Jack?" +</P> + +<P> +"Get out of the way." +</P> + +<P> +"Not till you tell me what's wrong." +</P> + +<P> +A veritable devil of fury came blazing in her eyes, and her hand +twitched nervously back to her hip where the dark holster hung. She +said in a voice that shook with anger: "Don't try your bluff on me. I +ain't no shorthorn, Pierre le Rouge." +</P> + +<P> +He stepped aside, frowning. +</P> + +<P> +"To-morrow I'll argue the point with you, Jack." +</P> + +<P> +She turned at the door and snapped back: "You? You ain't fast enough +on the draw to argue with me!" +</P> + +<P> +And she was gone. He turned to face the mocking smile of Black Gandil +and a rapid volley of questions. +</P> + +<P> +"Where's Patterson?" +</P> + +<P> +"No more idea than you have." +</P> + +<P> +"And Branch?" +</P> + +<P> +"What's become of Branch? Hasn't he returned?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. And Dick Wilbur?" +</P> + +<P> +"Boys, he's done with this life and I'm glad of it. He's starting on a +new track." +</P> + +<P> +"After a woman?" sneered Bud Mansie. +</P> + +<P> +"Shut up, Bud," broke in Boone, and then slowly to Pierre: "Patterson +is gone for two days now. You ought to know what that means. Branch +ought to have returned from looking for him, and Branch is still out. +Wilbur is gone. Out of seven we're only four left. Who's next?" +</P> + +<P> +He stared gloomily from face to face, and Gandil snarled: "A fellow who +saves a shipwrecked man—" +</P> + +<P> +"Damn you, keep still, Gandil." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't damn me, Pierre le Rouge, but damn the luck you've brought to +Jim Boone." +</P> + +<P> +"Jim, do you chalk all this up against me?" +</P> + +<P> +"I, lad? No, no! But it's queer. Patterson's done for; there's no +doubt of that. Good-natured Garry Patterson. God, boy, how we'll miss +him! And Branch seems to have gone the same way. If neither of them +show up before morning we can cross 'em off the list. Now Wilbur has +gone and Jack has ridden home looking like a small-sized thunder storm, +and now you come with a white face and a blank eye. What hell is +trailin' us, Pierre, what hell is in store for us. You've seen +something, and we want to know what it is." +</P> + +<P> +"A ghost, Jim, that's all. Just a ghost." +</P> + +<P> +Bud Mansie said softly: "There's only one ghost that could make you +look like this. Was it McGurk, Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +Boone commanded: "No more of that, Bud. Boy's we're going to turn in, +and to-morrow we'll climb the hills looking for the two we've lost. +But there's something or some one after us. Lads, I'm thinking our +good days are over. The seven of us have been too many for a small +posse and too fast for a big one, but the seven are down to four. The +good days are over." +</P> + +<P> +And the three answered in a solemn chorus: "The good days are over." +</P> + +<P> +All eyes fixed on Pierre, and his glance was settled on the floor. +</P> + +<P> +The morning brought them no better cheer, for Jack, whose singing +generally wakened them, was not to be coaxed into speech, and when +Pierre entered the room she rose and left the breakfast-table. The sad +eyes of Jim Boone followed her and then turned to Pierre. No +explanation was forthcoming, and he asked for none. The old fatalist +had accepted the worst, and now he waited for doom to descend. +</P> + +<P> +They took their horses after breakfast and rode out to search the +hills, for it was quite possible that an accident had crippled at least +one of the two lost men, either Patterson or Branch. Not a gully +within miles was left unsearched, but toward evening they rode back, +one by one, with no tidings. +</P> + +<P> +One by one they rode up, and whistled to announce their coming, and +then rode on to the stable to unsaddle their horses. About the supper +table all gathered with the exception of Bud Mansie. So they waited +the meal and each from time to time stole a glance at the fifth plate +where Bud should sit. +</P> + +<P> +It was Jack who finally stirred herself from her dumb gloom to take up +that fifth and carry it out of the room. It was as if she had +announced the death of Mansie. +</P> + +<P> +After that, they ate what they could and then went back around the +fire. The evening waned, but it brought no sign of any of the missing +three. The wood burned low in the fire. The first to break the long +silence was Jim Boone, with "Who brings in the wood?" +</P> + +<P> +And Black Gandil answered: "We'll match, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +In an outburst of energy the day before he disappeared Garry Patterson +had chopped up some wood and left a pile of it at the corner of the +house. It was a very little thing to bring in an armful of that wood, +but long-riders do not love work, and now they started the matching +seriously. The odd man was out, and Pierre went out on the first toss +of the coins. +</P> + +<P> +"You see," said Gandil. "Bad luck to every one but himself." +</P> + +<P> +At the next throw Jacqueline was the lucky one, and her father +afterward. Gandil rose and stretched himself leisurely, yet as he +sauntered toward the door his backward glance at Pierre was black +indeed. He glanced curiously toward Jack—who looked away sharply—and +then turned his eyes to her father. +</P> + +<P> +The latter was considering him with a gloomy, foreboding stare and +considering over and over again, as Pierre le Rouge well knew, the +prophecy of Black Morgan Gandil. +</P> + +<P> +He fell in turn into a solemn brooding, and many a picture out of the +past came up beside him and stood near till he could almost feel its +presence. He was roused by the creaking of the floor beneath the +ponderous step of Jim Boone, who flung the door open and shouted: "Oh, +Morgan." +</P> + +<P> +In the silence he turned and stared back at Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +"What's up with Gandil?" +</P> + +<P> +"God knows, not I." +</P> + +<P> +Pierre rose and ran from the room and around the side of the building. +There by the woodpile lay the prostrate body. It was a mere limp +weight when he turned and raised it in his arms. So he walked back +into the house carrying all that was left of Black Morgan Gandil, and +placed his burden on a bunk at the side of the room. +</P> + +<P> +There had been no outcry from either Jim Boone or his daughter, but +they came quickly to him, and Jacqueline pressed her ear over the heart +of the hurt man. +</P> + +<P> +She said; "He's still alive, but nearly gone. Where's the wound?" +</P> + +<P> +They found it when they drew off his coat—a small cut high on the +right breast, and another lower and more to the left. Either of them +would been fatal, and about each the flesh was discolored where the +hilt of the knife or the fist of the striker had driven home the blade. +</P> + +<P> +They stood back and made no hopeless effort to save him. It was +uncanny that Black Morgan Gandil, after all of his battles, should die +without a struggle in this way. And it had been no cowardly attack +from the rear. Both wounds were in the front. A hope came to them +when his color increased at one time, but it was for only a moment; it +went out again as if some one were erasing paint from his cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +But just as they were about to turn away his body stirred with a slight +convulsion, the eyes opened wide, and he strove to speak. A red froth +came on his lips. He made another desperate effort, and twisting +himself onto one elbow pointed a rigid arm at Pierre. He gasped: +"McGurk—God!" and dropped. He was dead before his head touched the +blanket. +</P> + +<P> +It was Jacqueline who closed the staring eyes, for the two men were +frozen where they stood. They had heard the story of Patterson and +Branch and Mansie in one word from the lips of the dying man. +</P> + +<P> +McGurk was back. McGurk was prowling about the last of the gang of +Boone, and the lone wolf had pulled down four of the band one by one on +successive days. Only two remained, and these two looked at one +another with a common thought. +</P> + +<P> +"The lights!" cried Jacqueline, turning from the body of Gandil. "He +can shoot us down through the windows at his leisure." +</P> + +<P> +"But he won't," said her father. "I've lived too long with the name of +McGurk in my ears not to know the man. He'll never kill by stealth, +but openly and man to man. I know him, damn him. He'll wait till he +meets us alone, and then we'll finish as poor Gandil, there, or +Patterson and Branch and Bud Mansie, all of them fallen somewhere in +the mountains with the buzzards left to bury 'em. That's how we'll +finish with McGurk on our trail. And you—Gandil was right—it's you +that's brought him on us. A shipwrecked man—by God, Gandil was right!" +</P> + +<P> +His right hand froze on the butt of his gun and his face convulsed with +impotent rage, for he knew, as both the others knew, that long before +that gun was clear of the holster the bullet from Pierre's gun would be +on its way. But Pierre threw his arms wide, and standing so, his +shadow made a black cross on the wall behind him. He even smiled to +tempt the big man further. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap25"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +JACQUELINE WAITS +</H3> + + +<P> +Jacqueline ran between and caught the hand of her father, crying: +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going to finish the work of McGurk before he has a chance to +start it? He hunted the rest down one by one. Dad, if you put out +Pierre what is left? Can you face that devil alone?" +</P> + +<P> +And the old man groaned: "But it's his luck that's ruined me. It's his +damned luck which has broken up the finest fellowship that ever mocked +at law on the ranges. Oh, Jack, the heart in me's broken. I wish to +God that I lay where Gandil lies. What's the use of fighting any +longer? No man can stand up against McGurk!" +</P> + +<P> +And the cold which had come in the blood of Pierre agreed with him. He +was a slayer of men, but McGurk was a devil incarnate. His father had +died at the hand of this lone rider; it was fitting, it was fate that +he himself should die in the same way. The girl looked from face to +face, and sensed their despondency. It seemed that their fear gave her +the greater courage. Her face flushed as she stood glaring her scorn. +</P> + +<P> +"The yellow streak took a long time in showin', but it's in you, all +right, Pierre le Rouge." +</P> + +<P> +"You've hated me ever since the dance, Jack. Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because I knew you were yellow—like this!" +</P> + +<P> +He shrugged his shoulders like one who gives up the fight against a +woman, and seeing it, she changed suddenly and made a gesture with both +hands toward him, a sudden gesture filled with grace and a queer +tenderness. +</P> + +<P> +She said: "Pierre, have you forgotten that when you were only a boy you +stood up to McGurk and drew blood from him? Are you afraid of him now?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll take my chance with any man—but McGurk—" +</P> + +<P> +"He has no cross to bring him luck." +</P> + +<P> +"Aye, and he has no friends for that luck to ruin. Look at Gandil, +Jack, and then speak to me of the cross." +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, that first time you met you almost beat him to the draw. Oh, +if I were a man, I'd—Pierre, it was to get McGurk that you rode out to +the range. You've been here six years, and McGurk is still alive, and +now you're ready to run from his shadow." +</P> + +<P> +"Run?" he said hotly. "I swear to God that as I stand here I've no +fear of death and no hope for the life ahead." +</P> + +<P> +She sneered: "You're white while you say it. Your will may be brave, +but your blood's a coward, Pierre. It deserts you." +</P> + +<P> +"Jack, you devil—" +</P> + +<P> +"Aye, you can threaten me safely. But if McGurk were here—" +</P> + +<P> +"Let him come." +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +"I mean it." +</P> + +<P> +"Then give me one promise." +</P> + +<P> +"A thousand of 'em." +</P> + +<P> +"Let me hunt him with you." +</P> + +<P> +He stared at her with a mute wonder. She had never been so beautiful. +</P> + +<P> +"Jack, what a heart you have! If you were a man we could rule the +mountains, you and I." +</P> + +<P> +"Even as I am, what prevents us, Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +And looking at her he forgot the sorrow which had been his ever since +he looked up to the face framed with red-gold hair and the dark tree +behind and the cold stars steady above it. It would come to him again, +but now it was gone, and he murmured, smiling: "I wonder?" +</P> + +<P> +They made their plans that night, sitting all three together. It was +better to go out and hunt the hunter than to wait there and be tracked +down. Jack, for she insisted on it, would ride out with Pierre the +next morning and hunt through the hills for the hiding-place of McGurk. +</P> + +<P> +Some covert he must have, so as to be near his victims. Nothing else +could explain the ease with which he kept on their track. They would +take the trail, and Jim Boone, no longer agile enough to be effective +on the trail, would guard the house and the body of Gandil in it. +</P> + +<P> +There was little danger that even McGurk would try to rush a hostile +house, but they took no chances. The guns of Jim Boone were given a +thorough overhauling, and he wore as usual at his belt the +heavy-handled hunting knife, a deadly weapon in a hand-to-hand fight. +Thus equipped, they left him and took the trail. +</P> + +<P> +They had not ridden a hundred yards when a whistle followed them, the +familiar whistle of the gang. They reined short and saw big Dick +Wilbur riding his bay after them, but at some distance he halted and +shouted: "Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +"He's come back to us!" cried Jack. +</P> + +<P> +"No. It's only some message." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Stay here. This is for me alone." +</P> + +<P> +And he rode back to Wilbur, who swung his horse close alongside. +However hard he had followed in the pursuit of happiness and the golden +hair of Mary Brown, his face was drawn with lines of age and his eyes +circled with shadows. +</P> + +<P> +He said: "I've kept close on her trail, Pierre, and the nearest she has +come to kindness has been to send me back with a message to you." +</P> + +<P> +He laughed without mirth, and the sound stopped abruptly. +</P> + +<P> +"This is the message in her own words: 'I love him, Dick, and there's +nothing in the world for me without him. Bring him back to me. I +don't care how; but bring him back.' So tell Jack to ride the trail +alone to-day and go back with me. I give her up, not freely, but +because I know there's no hope for me." +</P> + +<P> +But Pierre answered: "Wherever I've gone there's been luck for me and +hell for every one around me. I lived with a priest, Dick, and left +him when I was nearly old enough to begin repaying his care. I came +South and found a father and lost him the same day. I gambled for +money with which to bury him, and a man died that night and another was +hurt. I escaped from the town by riding a horse to death. I was +nearly killed in a landslide, and now the men who saved me from that +are done for. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all one story, the same over and over. Can I carry a fortune +like that back to her? Dick, it would haunt me by day and by night. +She would be the next. I know it as I know that I'm sitting in the +saddle here. That's my answer. Carry it back to her." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't lie and tell you I'm sorry, because I'm a fool and still have +a ghost of a hope, but this will be hard news to tell her, and I'd +rather give five years of life than face the look that will come in her +eyes." +</P> + +<P> +"I know it, Dick." +</P> + +<P> +"But this is final?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is." +</P> + +<P> +"Then good-bye again, and—God bless you, Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"And you, old fellow." +</P> + +<P> +They swerved their horses in opposite directions and galloped apart. +</P> + +<P> +"It was nothing," said Pierre to Jack, when he came up with her and +drew his horse down to a trot. But he knew that she had read his mind, +and for an hour they could not look each other in the face. +</P> + +<P> +But all day through the mazes of cańon and hill and rolling ground they +searched patiently. There was no cranny in the rocks too small for +them to reconnoiter with caution. There was no group of trees they did +not examine. +</P> + +<P> +Yet it was not strange that they failed. In the space of every square +mile there were a hundred hiding-places which might have served McGurk. +It would have taken a month to comb the country. They had only a day, +and left the result to chance, but chance failed them. When the +shadows commenced to swing across the gullies they turned back and rode +with downward heads, silent. +</P> + +<P> +One hill lay between them and the old ranch-house which had been the +headquarters for their gang so many days, when they saw a faint drift +of smoke across the sky—not a thin column of smoke such as rises from +a chimney, but a broad stream of pale mist, as if a dozen chimneys were +spouting wood-smoke at once. +</P> + +<P> +They exchanged glances and spurred their horses up the last slope. As +always in a short spurt, the long-legged black of Jacqueline +out-distanced the cream-colored mare, and it was she who first topped +the rise of land. The girl whirled in her saddle with raised arm, +screamed back at Pierre, and rode on at a still more furious pace. +</P> + +<P> +What he saw when he reached a corresponding position was the +ranch-house wreathed in smoke, and through all the lower windows was +the red dance of flames. Before him fled Jacqueline with all the speed +of the black. He loosened the reins, spoke to the mare, and she +responded with a mighty rush. Even that tearing pace could not quite +take him up to the girl, but he flung himself from the saddle and was +at her side when she ran across the smoking veranda and wrenched at the +front door. +</P> + +<P> +The whole frame gave back at her, and as Pierre snatched her to one +side the doorway fell crashing on the porch, while a mighty volume of +smoke burst out at them like a puff from the pit. +</P> + +<P> +They stood sputtering, coughing, and choking, and when they could look +again they saw a solid wall of red flame, thick, impenetrable, +shuddering with the breath of the wind. +</P> + +<P> +While they stared a stronger breath of that wind tore the wall of +flames apart, driving it back in a raging tide to either side. The +fire had circled the walls of the entire room, but it had scarcely +encroached on the center, and there, seated at the table, was Boone. +</P> + +<P> +He had scarcely changed from the position in which they last saw him, +save that he was fallen somewhat deeper in the chair, his head resting +against the top of the back. He greeted them, through that infernal +furnace, with laughter, and wide, steady eyes. At least it seemed +laughter, for the mouth was agape and the lips grinned back, but there +was no sound from the lips and no light in the fixed eyes. +</P> + +<P> +Laughter indeed it was, but it was the laughter of death, as if the +soul of the man, in dying, recognized its natural wild element and had +burst into convulsive mirth. So he sat there, untouched as yet by the +wide river of fire, chuckling at his destiny. The wall of fire closed +across the doorway again and the work of red ruin went on with a +crashing of timbers from the upper part of the building. +</P> + +<P> +As that living wall shut solidly, Jacqueline leaped forward, shouting, +like a man, words of hope and rescue; Pierre caught her barely in +time—a precarious grasp on the wrist from which she nearly wrenched +herself free and gained the entrance to the fire. But the jerk threw +her off balance for the least fraction of an instant, and the next +moment she was safe in his arms. +</P> + +<P> +Safe? He might as well have held a wildcat, or captured with his bare +hands a wild eagle, strong of talon and beak. She tore and raged in a +wild fury. +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, coward, devil!" +</P> + +<P> +"Steady, Jack!" +</P> + +<P> +"Are you going to let him die?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you see? He's already dead." +</P> + +<P> +"You lie. You only fear the fire!" +</P> + +<P> +"I tell you, McGurk has been here before us." +</P> + +<P> +Her arm was freed by a twisting effort and she beat him furiously +across the face. One blow cut his lip and a steady trickle of hot +blood left a taste of salt in his mouth. +</P> + +<P> +"You young fiend!" he cried, and grasped both her wrists with a +crushing force. +</P> + +<P> +She leaned and gnashed at his hands, but he whirled her about and held +her from behind, impotent, raging still. +</P> + +<P> +"A hundred McGurks could never have killed him!" +</P> + +<P> +There was a sharp explosion from the midst of the fire. +</P> + +<P> +"See! He's fighting against his death!" +</P> + +<P> +"No! No! It's only the falling of a timber!" +</P> + +<P> +Yet with a panic at his heart he knew that it was the sharp crack of a +firearm. +</P> + +<P> +"Liar again! Pierre, for God's sake, do something for him. Father! +He's fighting for his life!" +</P> + +<P> +Another and another explosion from the midst of the fire. He +understood then. +</P> + +<P> +"The flames have reached his guns. That's all, Jack. Don't you see? +We'd be throwing ourselves away to run into those flames." +</P> + +<P> +Realization came to her at last. A heavy weight slumped down suddenly +over his arms. He held her easily, lightly. Her head had tilted back, +and the red flare of the fire beat across her face and throat. The +roar of the flames shut out all other thought of the world and cast a +wide inferno of light around them. +</P> + +<P> +Higher and higher rose the fires, and the wind cut off great fragments +and hurried them off into the night, blowing them, it seemed, straight +up against the piled thunder of the clouds. Then the roof sagged, +swayed, and fell crashing, while a vast cloud of sparks and livid fires +shot up a hundred feet into the air. It was as if the soul of old +Boone had departed in that final flare. +</P> + +<P> +It started the girl into sudden life, surprising Pierre, so that she +managed to wrench herself free and ran from him. He sprang after her +with a shout, fearing that in her hysteria she might fling herself into +the fire, but that was not her purpose. Straight to the black horse +she ran, swung into the saddle with the ease of a man, and rode +furiously off through the falling of the night. +</P> + +<P> +He watched her with a curious closing of loneliness like a hand about +his heart. He had failed, and because of that failure even Jacqueline +was leaving him. It was strange, for since the loss of the girl of the +yellow hair and those deep blue eyes, he had never dreamed that another +thing in life could pain him. +</P> + +<P> +So at length he mounted the mare again and rode slowly down the hill +and out toward the distant ranges, trotting mile after mile with +downward head, not caring even if McGurk should cross him, for surely +this was the final end of the world to Pierre le Rouge. +</P> + +<P> +About midnight he halted at last, for the uneasy sway of the mare +showed that she was nearly dead on her feet with weariness. He found a +convenient place for a camp, built his fire, and wrapped his blanket +about him without thinking of food. +</P> + +<P> +He never knew how long he sat there, for his thoughts circled the world +and back again and found all a prospect of desert before him and +behind, until a sound, a vague sound out of the night startled him into +alertness. He slipped from beside the fire and into the shadow of a +steep rock, watching with eyes that almost pierced the dark on all +sides. +</P> + +<P> +And there he saw her creeping up on the outskirts of the firelight, +prone on her hands and knees, dragging herself up like a young wildcat +hunting prey; it was the glimmer of her eyes that he caught first +through the gloom. A cold thought came to him that she had returned +with her gun ready. +</P> + +<P> +Inch by inch she came closer, and now he was aware of her restless +glances probing on all sides of the camp-fire. Silence—only the +crackling of a pitchy stick. And then he heard a muffled sound, soft, +soft as the beating of a heart in the night, and regularly pulsing. It +hurt him infinitely, and he called gently: "Jack, why are you weeping?" +</P> + +<P> +She started up with her fingers twisted at the butt of her gun. +</P> + +<P> +"It's a lie," called a tremulous voice. "Why should I weep?" +</P> + +<P> +And then she ran to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Pierre, I thought you were gone!" +</P> + +<P> +That silence which came between them was thick with understanding +greater than speech. He said at last: +</P> + +<P> +"I've made my plan. I am going straight for the higher mountains and +try to shake McGurk off my trail. There's one chance in ten I may +succeed, and if I do then I'll wait for my chance and come down on him, +for sooner or later we have to fight this out to the end." +</P> + +<P> +"I know a place he could never find," said Jacqueline. "The old cabin +in the gulley between the Twin Bears. We'll start for it to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"Not we," he answered. "Jack, here's the end of our riding together." +</P> + +<P> +She frowned with puzzled wonder. +</P> + +<P> +He explained: "One man is stronger than a dozen. That's the strength +of McGurk—that he rides alone. He's finished your father's men. +There's only Wilbur left, and Wilbur will go next—then me!" +</P> + +<P> +She stretched her hands to him. She seemed to be pleading for her very +life. +</P> + +<P> +"But if he finds us and has to fight us both—I shoot as straight as a +man, Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +"Straighter than most. And you're a better pal than any I've ever +ridden with. But I must go alone. It's only a lone wolf that will +ever bring down McGurk. Think how he's rounded us up like a herd of +cattle and brought us down one by one." +</P> + +<P> +"By getting each man alone and killing him from behind." +</P> + +<P> +"From the front, Jack. No, he's fought square with each one. The +wounds of Black Gandil were all in front, and when McGurk and I meet +it's going to be face to face." +</P> + +<P> +Her tone changed, softened: "But what of me, Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +"You have to leave this life. Go down to the city, Jack. Live like a +woman; marry some lucky fellow; be happy." +</P> + +<P> +"Can you leave me so easily?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, it's hard, devilish hard to part with a pal like you, Jack; but +all the rest of my life I've got hard things to face, partner." +</P> + +<P> +"Partner!" she repeated with an indescribable emphasis. "Pierre, I +can't leave you." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm afraid to go. Let me stay!" +</P> + +<P> +He said gloomily: "No good will come of it." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll never trouble you—never!" +</P> + +<P> +"No, the bad luck comes on the people who are with me, but never on me. +It's struck them all down, one by one; your turn is next, Jack. If I +could leave the cross behind—" +</P> + +<P> +He covered his face, and groaned: "But I don't dare; I don't dare! I +have to face McGurk. Jack, I hate myself for it, but I can't help it. +I'm afraid of McGurk, afraid of that damned white face, that lowered, +fluttering eyelid, that sneering mouth. Without the cross to bring me +luck, how could I meet him? But while I keep the cross there's ruin +and hell without end for every one with me." +</P> + +<P> +She was white and shaking. She said: "I'm not afraid. I've one friend +left; there's nothing else to care for." +</P> + +<P> +"So it's to be this way, Jack?" +</P> + +<P> +"This way, and no other." +</P> + +<P> +"Partner, I'm glad. My God, Jack, what a man you would have made!" +</P> + +<P> +Their hands met and clung together, and her head had drooped, perhaps +in acquiescence. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap26"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A GAME OF SUPPOSE +</H3> + + +<P> +Dick Wilbur, telling Mary how Pierre had cut himself adrift, did not +even pretend to sorrow, and she listened to him with her eyes fixed +steadily on his own. As a matter of fact, she had shown neither hope +nor excitement from the moment he came back to her and started to tell +his message. But if she showed neither hope nor excitement for +herself, surely she gave Dick still fewer grounds for any optimistic +foresights. +</P> + +<P> +So he finished gloomily: "And as far as I can make out, Pierre is +right. There's some rotten bad luck that follows him. It may not be +the cross—I don't suppose you believe in superstition like that, Miss +Brown?" +</P> + +<P> +She said: "It saved my life." +</P> + +<P> +"The cross?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Then Pierre—you mean—you met before the dance—you mean—" +</P> + +<P> +He was stammering so that he couldn't finish his thoughts, and she +broke in: "If he will not come to me, then I must go to him." +</P> + +<P> +"Follow Pierre le Rouge?" queried Wilbur. "Miss Brown, you're an +optimist. But that's because you've never seen him ride. I consider +it a good day's work to start out with him and keep within sight till +night, but as for following and overtaking him—ha, ha, ha, ha!" +</P> + +<P> +He laughed heartily at the thought. +</P> + +<P> +And she smiled a little sadly, answering: "But I have the most +boundless patience in the world. He may gallop all the way, but I will +walk, and keep on walking, and reach him in the end. I am not very +strong, but—" +</P> + +<P> +Her hands moved out as though testing their power, gripping at the air. +</P> + +<P> +"Where will you go to hunt for him?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know. But every evening, when I look out at the sunset hills, +with the purple along the valleys, I think that he must be out there +somewhere, going toward the highest ranges. If I were up in that +country I know that I could find him." +</P> + +<P> +"Never in a thousand years." +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because he's on the trail—" +</P> + +<P> +"On the trail?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of McGurk." +</P> + +<P> +She started. +</P> + +<P> +"What is this man McGurk? I hear of him on all sides. If one of the +men rides a bucking horse successfully, some one is sure to say: 'Who +taught you what you know, Bud—McGurk?' And then the rest laugh. The +other day a man was pointed out to me as an expert shot. 'Not as fast +as McGurk,' it was said, 'but he shoots just as straight.' Finally I +asked some one about McGurk. The only answer I received was: 'I hope +you never find out what he is.' Tell me, what is McGurk?" +</P> + +<P> +Wilbur considered the question gravely. +</P> + +<P> +He said at last: "McGurk is—hell!" +</P> + +<P> +He expanded his statement: "Think of a man who can ride anything that +walks on four feet, who never misses with either a rifle or a revolver, +who doesn't know the meaning of fear, and then imagine that man living +by himself and fighting the rest of the world like a lone wolf. That's +McGurk. He's never had a companion; he's never trusted any man. +Perhaps that's why they say about him the same thing that they say +about me." +</P> + +<P> +"What's that?" +</P> + +<P> +"You will smile when you hear. They say that McGurk will lose out in +the end on account of some woman." +</P> + +<P> +"And they say that of you?" +</P> + +<P> +"They say right of me. I know it myself. Look at me now? What right +have I here? If I'm found I'm the meat of the first man who sights me, +but here I stay, and wait and watch for your smiles—like a love-sick +boy. By Jove, you must despise me, Mary!" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't try to understand you Westerners," she answered, "and that's +why I have never questioned you before. Tell me, why is it that you +come so stealthily to see me and run away as soon as any one else +appears?" +</P> + +<P> +He said with wonder: "Haven't you guessed?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't dare guess." +</P> + +<P> +"But you have, and your guess was right. There's a price on my head. +By right, I should be out there on the ranges with Pierre le Rouge and +McGurk. There's the only safe place; but I saw you and I came down out +of the wilds and can't go back. I'll stay, I suppose, till I run my +head into a halter." +</P> + +<P> +She was too much moved to speak for a moment, and then: "You come to me +in spite of that? Dick, whatever you have done, I know that it's only +chance which made you go wrong, just as it made Pierre. I wish—" +</P> + +<P> +The dimness of her eyes encouraged him with a great hope. He stole +closer to her. +</P> + +<P> +He repeated: "You wish—" +</P> + +<P> +"That you could be satisfied with a mere friendship. I could give you +that, Dick, with all my heart." +</P> + +<P> +He stepped back and smiled somewhat grimly on her. +</P> + +<P> +She went on: "And this McGurk—what do you mean when you say that +Pierre is on his trail?" +</P> + +<P> +"Hunting him with a gun." +</P> + +<P> +She grew paler and trembled, but her voice remained steady. It was +always that way; at the very moment when he expected her to quail, some +inner strength bore her up and baffled him. +</P> + +<P> +"But in all those miles of mountains they may never meet?" +</P> + +<P> +"They can't stay apart any more than iron can stay away from a magnet. +Listen: half a dozen years ago McGurk had the reputation of bearing a +charmed life. He had been in a hundred fights and he was never touched +with either a knife or a bullet. Then he crossed Pierre le Rouge when +Pierre was only a youngster just come onto the range. He put two +bullets through Pierre, but the boy shot him from the floor and wounded +him for the first time. The charm of McGurk was broken. +</P> + +<P> +"For half a dozen years McGurk was gone; there was never a whisper +about him. Then he came back and went on the trail of Pierre. He has +killed the friends of Pierre one by one; Pierre himself is the next in +order—Pierre or myself. And when those two meet there will be the +greatest fight that was ever staged in the mountain-desert." +</P> + +<P> +She stood straight, staring past Wilbur with hungry eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"I knew he needed me. I have to save him, Dick. You see that? I have +to bring him down from the mountains and keep him safe from McGurk. +McGurk! somehow the sound means what 'devil' used to mean to me." +</P> + +<P> +"You've never traveled alone, and yet you'd go up there and brave +everything that comes for the sake of Pierre? What has he done to +deserve it, Mary?" +</P> + +<P> +"What have I done, Dick, to deserve the care you have for me?" +</P> + +<P> +He stared gloomily on her. +</P> + +<P> +"When do you start?" +</P> + +<P> +"To-night." +</P> + +<P> +"Your friends won't let you go." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll steal away and leave a note behind me." +</P> + +<P> +"And you'll go alone?" +</P> + +<P> +She caught at a hope. +</P> + +<P> +"Unless you'll go with me, Dick?" +</P> + +<P> +"I? Take you—to Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +She did not speak to urge him, but in the silence her beauty pleaded +for her. +</P> + +<P> +He said: "Mary, how lovely you are. If I go I will have you for a few +days—for a week at most, all to myself." +</P> + +<P> +She shook her head. From the window behind her the sunset light flared +in her hair, flooding it with red-gold against which her skin was +marvelously delicate and white, and the eyes of the deepest blue. +</P> + +<P> +"All the time that we are gone, you will never say things like this, +Dick?" +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose not. I should be near you, but terribly far away from your +thoughts all the while. Still, you will be near. You will be very +beautiful, Mary, riding up the trail through the pines, with all the +scents of the evergreens blowing about you, and I—well, I must go back +to a second childhood and play a game of suppose—" +</P> + +<P> +"A game of what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of supposing that you are really mine, Mary, and riding out into the +wilderness for my sake." +</P> + +<P> +She stepped a little closer, peering into his face. +</P> + +<P> +"No matter what you suppose, I'm sure you'll leave that part of it +merely a game, Dick!" +</P> + +<P> +He laughed suddenly, though the sound broke off as short and sharp as +it began. +</P> + +<P> +"Haven't I played a game all my life with the fair ladies? And have I +anything to show for it except laughter? I'll go with you, Mary, if +you'll let me." +</P> + +<P> +"Dick, you've a heart of gold! What shall I take?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll make the pack up, and I'll be back here an hour after dark and +whistle. Like this—" +</P> + +<P> +And he gave the call of Boone's gang. +</P> + +<P> +"I understand. I'll be ready. Hurry, Dick, for we've very little +time." +</P> + +<P> +He hesitated, then: "All the time we're on the trail you must be far +from me, and at the end of it will be Pierre le Rouge—and happiness +for you. Before we start, Mary, I'd like to—" +</P> + +<P> +It seemed that she read his mind, for she slipped suddenly inside his +arms, kissed him, and was gone from the room. He stood a moment with a +hand raised to his face. +</P> + +<P> +"After all," he muttered, "that's enough to die for, and—" He threw +up his long arms in a gesture of infinite resignation. +</P> + +<P> +"The will of God be done!" said Wilbur, and laughed again. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap27"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE TRAIL +</H3> + + +<P> +She was ready, crouched close to the window of her room, when the +signal came, but first she was not sure, because the sound was as faint +as a memory. Moreover, it might have been a freakish whistling in the +wind, which rose stronger and stronger. It had piled the +thunder-clouds high and higher, and now and again a heavy drop of rain +tapped at her window like a thrown pebble. +</P> + +<P> +So she waited, and at last heard the whistle a second time, +unmistakably clear. In a moment she was hurrying down to the stable, +climbed into the saddle, and rode at a cautious trot out among the +sand-hills. +</P> + +<P> +For a time she saw no one, and commenced to fear that the whole thing +had been a gruesomely real, practical jest. So she stopped her horse +and imitated the signal whistle as well as she could. It was repeated +immediately behind her—almost in her ear, and she turned to make out +the dark form of a tall horseman. +</P> + +<P> +"A bad night for the start," called Wilbur. "Do you want to wait till +to-morrow?" +</P> + +<P> +She could not answer for a moment, the wind whipping against her face, +while a big drop stung her lips. +</P> + +<P> +She said at length: "Would a night like this stop Pierre—or McGurk?" +</P> + +<P> +For answer she heard his laughter. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'll start. I must never stop for weather." +</P> + +<P> +He rode up beside her. +</P> + +<P> +"This is the start of the finish." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing. But somewhere on this ride, I've an idea a question will be +answered for me." +</P> + +<P> +"What question?" +</P> + +<P> +Instead of replying he said: "You've got a slicker on?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Then follow me. We'll gallop into the wind a while and get the horses +warmed up. Afterward we'll take the valley of the Old Crow and follow +it up to the crest of the range." +</P> + +<P> +His horse lunged out ahead of hers, and she followed, leaning far +forward against a wind that kept her almost breathless. For several +minutes they cantered steadily, and before the end of the gallop she +was sitting straight up, her heart beating fast, a faint smile on her +lips, and the blood running hot in her veins. For the battle was +begun, she knew, by that first sharp gallop, and here at the start she +felt confident of her strength. When she met Pierre she could force +him to turn back with her. +</P> + +<P> +Wilbur checked his horse to a trot; they climbed a hill, and just as +the rain broke on them with a rattling gust they swung into the valley +of the Old Crow. Above them in the sky the thunder rode; the rain +whipped against the rocks like the rattle of a thousand flying hoofs; +and now and again the lightning flashed across the sky. +</P> + +<P> +Through that vast accompaniment they moved on in the night straight +toward the heart of the mountains which sprang into sight with every +flash of the lightning and seemed toppling almost above them, yet they +were weary miles away, as she knew. +</P> + +<P> +By those same flashes she caught glimpses of the face of Wilbur. She +hardly knew him. She had seen him always big, gentle, handsome, +good-natured; now he was grown harder, with a stern set of the jaw, and +a certain square outline of face. It had seemed impossible. Now she +began to guess how the law could have placed a price upon his head. +For he belonged out here with the night and the crash of the storm, +with free, strong, lawless things about him. +</P> + +<P> +An awe grew up in her, and she was filled half with dread and half with +curiosity at the thought of facing him, as she must many a time, across +the camp-fire. In a way, he was the ladder by which she climbed to an +understanding of Pierre le Rouge, Red Pierre. For that Pierre, she +knew, was to big Wilbur what Dick himself was to the great mass of +law-abiding men. Accident had cut Wilbur adrift, but it was more than +accident which started Pierre on the road to outlawry; it was the sheer +love of dangerous chance, the glory in fighting other men. This was +Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +What was the man for whom Pierre hunted? What was McGurk? Not even +the description of Wilbur had proved very enlightening. Her thought of +him was vague, nebulous, and taking many forms. Sometimes he was tall +and dark and stern. Again he was short and heavy and somewhat deformed +of body. But always he was everywhere in the night about her. +</P> + +<P> +She guessed at his voice rumbling through an echo of the thunder; she +heard the sound of his pursuing horse in the rattle of the following +rain. Her work was to keep this relentless lone rider away from +Pierre; it was as if she strove to keep the ocean tide away from the +shore. They seemed doomed to meet and shock. +</P> + +<P> +All this she pondered as they began the ride up the valley, but as the +long journey continued, and the hours and the miles rolled past them, a +racking weariness possessed her and numbed her mind. She began to wish +desperately for morning, but even morning might not bring an end to the +ride. That would be at the will of the outlaw beside her. Finally, +only one picture remained to her. It stabbed across the darkness of +her mind—the red hair and the keen eyes of Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +The storm decreased as they went up the valley. Finally the wind fell +off to a pleasant breeze, and the clouds of the rain broke in the +center of the heavens and toppled west in great tumbling masses. In +half an hour's time the sky was clear, and a cold moon looked down on +the blue-black evergreens, shining faintly with the wet, and on the +dead black of the mountains. +</P> + +<P> +For the first time in all that ride her companion spoke: "In an hour +the gray will begin in the east. Suppose we camp here, eat, get a bit +of sleep, and then start again?" +</P> + +<P> +As if she had waited for permission, fighting against her weariness, +she now let down the bars of her will, and a tingling stupor swept over +her body and broke in hot, numbing waves on her brain. +</P> + +<P> +"Whatever you say. I'm afraid I couldn't ride much further to-night." +</P> + +<P> +"Look up at me." +</P> + +<P> +She raised her head. +</P> + +<P> +"No; you're all in. But you've made a game ride. I never dreamed +there was so much iron in you. We'll make our fire just inside the +trees and carry water up from the river, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +A scanty growth of the evergreens walked over the hills and skirted +along the valley, leaving a broad, sandy waste in the center where the +river at times swelled with melted snow or sudden rains and rushed over +the lower valley in a broad, muddy flood. +</P> + +<P> +At the edge of the forest he picketed the horses in a little open space +carpeted with wet, dead grass. It took him some time to find dry wood. +So he wrapped her in blankets and left her sitting on a saddle. As the +chill left her body she began to grow delightfully drowsy, and vaguely +she heard the crack of his hatchet. He had found a rotten stump and +was tearing off the wet outer bark to get at the dry wood within. +</P> + +<P> +After that it was only a moment before a fire sputtered feebly and +smoked at her feet. She watched it, only half conscious, in her utter +weariness, and seeing dimly the hollow-eyed face of the man who stooped +above the blaze. Now it grew quickly, and increased to a sharp-pointed +pyramid of red flame. The bright sparks showered up, crackling and +snapping, and when she followed their flight she saw the darkly nodding +tops of the evergreens above her. +</P> + +<P> +With the fire well under way, he took the coffee-pot to get water from +the river, and left her to fry the bacon. The fumes of the frying meat +wakened her at once, and brushed even the thought of her exhaustion +from her mind. She was hungry—ravenously hungry. +</P> + +<P> +So she tended the bacon slices with care until they grew brown and +crisped and curled at the edges. After that she removed the pan from +the fire, and it was not until then that she began to wonder why Wilbur +was so long in returning with the water. The bacon grew cold; she +heated it again and was mightily tempted to taste one piece of it, but +restrained herself to wait for Dick. +</P> + +<P> +Still he did not come. She stood up and called, her high voice rising +sharp and small through the trees. It seemed that some sound answered, +so she smiled and sat down. Ten minutes passed and he was still gone. +A cold alarm swept over her at that. She dropped the pan and ran out +from the trees. +</P> + +<P> +Everywhere was the bright moonlight—over the wet rocks, and sand, and +glimmering on the slow tide of the river, but nowhere could she see +Wilbur, or a form that looked like a man. Then the moonlight glinted +on something at the edge of the river. She ran to it and found the +coffee-can half in the water and partially filled with sand. +</P> + +<P> +A wild temptation to scream came over her, but the tight muscles of her +throat let out no sound. But if Wilbur were not here, where had he +gone? He could not have vanished into thin air. The ripple of the +water washing on the sand replied. Yes, that Current might have rolled +his body away. +</P> + +<P> +To shut out the grim sight of the river she turned. Stretched across +the ground at her feet she saw clearly the impression of a body in the +moist sand. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap28"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXVIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A HINT OF WHITE +</H3> + + +<P> +The heels had left two deeply defined gouges in the ground; there was a +sharp hollow where the head had lain, and a broad depression for the +shoulders. It was the impression of the body of a man—a large man +like Wilbur. Any hope, any doubt she might have had, slipped from her +mind, and despair rolled into it with an even, sullen current, like the +motion of the river. +</P> + +<P> +It is strange what we do with our big moments of fear and sorrow and +even of joy. Now Mary stooped and carefully washed out the coffee-pot, +and filled it again with water higher up the bank; and turned back +toward the edge of the trees. +</P> + +<P> +It was all subconscious, this completing of the task which Wilbur had +begun, and subconscious still was her careful rebuilding of the fire +till it flamed high, as though she were setting a signal to recall the +wanderer. But the flame, throwing warmth and red light across her +eyes, recalled her sharply to reality, and she looked up and saw the +dull dawn brightening beyond the dark evergreens. +</P> + +<P> +Guilt, too, swept over her, for she remembered what big, handsome Dick +Wilbur had said: He would meet his end through a woman. Now it had +come to him, and through her. +</P> + +<P> +She cringed at the thought, for what was she that a man should die in +her service? She raised her hands with a moan to the nodding tops of +the trees, to the vast, black sky above them, and the full knowledge of +Wilbur's strength came to her, for had he not ridden calmly, defiantly, +into the heart of this wilderness, confident in his power to care both +for himself and for her? But she! What could she do wandering by +herself? The image of Pierre le Rouge grew dim indeed and sad and +distant. +</P> + +<P> +She looked about her at the pack, which had been distributed expertly, +and disposed on the ground by Wilbur. She could not even lash it in +place behind the saddle. So she drew the blanket once more around her +shoulders and sat down to think. +</P> + +<P> +She might return to the house—doubtless she could find her way back. +And leave Pierre in the heart of the mountains, surely lost to her +forever. She made a determination, sullen, like a child, to ride on +and on into the wilderness, and let fate take care of her. The pack +she could bundle together as best she might; she would live as she +might; and for a guide there would be the hunger for Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +So she ended her thoughts with a hope; her head nodded lower, and she +slept the deep, deep sleep of the exhausted mind and the lifeless body. +She woke hours later with a start, instantly alert, quivering with fear +and life and energy, for she felt like one who has gone to sleep with +voices in his ear. +</P> + +<P> +While she slept some one had been near her; she could have sworn it +before her startled eyes glanced around. +</P> + +<P> +And though she kept whispering, with white lips, "No, no; it is +impossible!" yet there was evidence which proved it. The fire should +have burned out, but instead it flamed more brightly than ever, and +there was a little heap of fuel laid conveniently close. Moreover, +both horses were saddled, and the pack lashed on the saddle of her own +mount. +</P> + +<P> +Whatever man or demon had done this work evidently intended that she +should ride Wilbur's beautiful bay. Yes, for when she went closer, +drawn by her wonder, she found that the stirrups had been much +shortened. +</P> + +<P> +Nothing was forgotten by this invisible caretaker; he had even left out +the cooking-tins, and she found a little batter of flapjack flour mixed. +</P> + +<P> +The riddle was too great for solving. Perhaps Wilbur had disappeared +merely to play a practical jest on her; but that supposition was too +childish to be retained an instant. Perhaps—perhaps Pierre himself +had discovered her, but having vowed never to see her again, he cared +for her like the invisible hands in the old Greek fable. +</P> + +<P> +This, again, an instinctive knowledge made her dismiss. If he were so +close, loving her, he could not stay away; she read in her own heart, +and knew. Then it must be something else; evil, because it feared to +be seen; not wholly evil, because it surrounded her with care. +</P> + +<P> +At least this new emotion obscured somewhat the terror and the sorrow +of Wilbur's disappearance. She cooked her breakfast as if obeying the +order of the unseen, climbed into the saddle of Wilbur's horse, and +started off up the valley, leading her own mount. +</P> + +<P> +Every moment or so she turned in the saddle suddenly in the hope of +getting a glimpse of the follower, but even when she surveyed the +entire stretch of country from the crest of a low hill, she saw +nothing—not the least sign of life. +</P> + +<P> +She rode slowly, this day, for she was stiff and sore from the violent +journey of the night before, but though she went slowly, she kept +steadily at the trail. It was a broad and pleasant one, being the +beaten sand of the river-bottom; and the horse she rode was the finest +that ever pranced beneath her. +</P> + +<P> +His trot was as smooth and springy as the gallop of most horses, and +when she let him run over a few level stretches, it was as if she had +suddenly been taken up from the earth on wings. There was something +about the animal, too, which reminded her of its vanished owner; for it +had strength and pride and gentleness at once. Unquestionably it took +kindly to its new rider; for once when she dismounted the big horse +walked up behind and nuzzled her shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +The mountains were much plainer before the end of the day. They rose +sheer up in wave upon frozen wave like water piled ragged by some +terrific gale, with the tops of the waters torn and tossed and then +frozen forever in that position, like a fantastic and gargantuan mask +of dreaming terror. It overawed the heart of Mary Brown to look up to +them, but there was growing in her a new impulse of friendly +understanding with all this scalped, bald region of rocks, as if in +entering the valley she had passed through the gate which closes out +the gentler world, and now she was admitted as a denizen of the +mountain-desert, that scarred and ugly asylum for crime and fear and +grandeur. +</P> + +<P> +Feeling this new emotion, the old horizons of her mind gave way and +widened; her gentle nature, which had known nothing but smiles, +admitted the meaning of a frown. Did she not ride under the very +shadow of that frown with her two horses? Was she not armed? She +touched the holster at her hip, and smiled. To be sure, she could +never hit a mark with that ponderous weapon, but at least the pistol +gave the seeming of a dangerous lone rider, familiar with the wilds. +</P> + +<P> +It was about dark, and she was on the verge of looking about for a +suitable camping-place, when the bay halted sharply, tossed up his +head, and whinnied. From the far distance she thought she heard the +beginning of a whinny in reply. She could not be sure, but the +possibility made her pulse quicken. In this region, she knew, no +stranger could be a friend. +</P> + +<P> +So she started the bay at a gallop and put a couple of swift miles +between her and the point at which she had heard the sound; no living +creature, she was sure, could have followed the pace the bay held +during that distance. So, secure in her loneliness, she trotted the +horse around a bend of the rocks and came on the sudden light of a +camp-fire. +</P> + +<P> +It was too late to wheel and gallop away; so she remained with her hand +fumbling at the butt of the revolver, and her wide, blue eyes fixed on +the flicker of the fire. Not a voice accosted her. As far as she +could peer among the lithe trunks of the saplings, not a sign of a +living thing was near. +</P> + +<P> +Yet whoever built that fire must be near, for it was obviously, newly +laid. Perhaps some fleeing outlaw had pitched his camp here and had +been startled by her coming. In that case he lurked somewhere in the +woods at that moment, his keen eyes fixed on her, and his gun gripped +hard in his hand. Perhaps—and the thought thrilled her—this little +camp had been prepared by the same power, human or unearthly, which had +watched over her early that morning. +</P> + +<P> +All reason and sane caution warned her to ride on and leave that camp +unmolested, but an overwhelming, tingling curiosity besieged her. The +thin column of smoke rose past the dark trees like a ghost, and +reaching the unsheltered space above the trees, was smitten by a light +wind and jerked away at a sharp angle. +</P> + +<P> +She looked closer and saw a bed made of a great heap of the tips of +limbs of spruce, a bed softer than down and more fragrant than any +manufactured perfume, however costly. +</P> + +<P> +Possibly it was the sight of this bed which tempted her down from the +saddle, at last. With the reins over her arm, she stood close to the +fire and warmed her hands, peering all the while on every side, like +some wild and beautiful creature tempted by the bait of the trap, but +shrinking from the scent of man. +</P> + +<P> +As she stood there a broad, yellow moon edged its way above the hills +and rolled up through the black trees and then floated through the sky. +Beneath such a moon no harm could come to her. It was while she stared +at it, letting her tensed alertness relax little by little, that she +saw, or thought she saw, a hint of moving white pass over the top of +the rise of ground and disappear among the trees. +</P> + +<P> +She could not be sure, but her first impulse was to gather the reins +with a jerk and place her foot in the stirrup; but then she looked back +and saw the fire, burning low now and asking like a human voice to be +replenished from the heap of small, broken fuel near by; and she saw +also the softly piled bed of evergreens. +</P> + +<P> +She removed her foot from the stirrup. What mattered that imaginary +figure of moving white? She felt a strong power of protection lying +all about her, breathing out to her with the keen scent of the pines, +fanning her face with the chill of the night breeze. She was alone, +but she was secure in the wilderness. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap29"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +JACK +</H3> + + +<P> +For many a minute she waited by that camp-fire, but there was never a +sign of the builder of it, though she centered all her will in making +her eyes and ears sharper to pierce through the darkness and to gather +from the thousand obscure whispers of the forest any sounds of human +origin. So she grew bold at length to take off the pack and the +saddles; the camp was hers, built for her coming by the invisible power +which surrounded her, which read her mind, it seemed, and chose +beforehand the certain route which she must follow. +</P> + +<P> +She resigned herself to that force without question, and the worry of +her search disappeared. It seemed certain that this omnipotence, +whatever it might be, was reading her wishes and acting with all its +power to fulfill them, so that in the end it was merely a question of +time before she should accomplish her mission—before she should meet +Pierre le Rouge face to face. +</P> + +<P> +That night her sleep was deep, indeed, and she only wakened when the +slant light of the sun struck across her eyes. It was a bright day, +crisp and chill, and through the clear air the mountains seemed leaning +directly above her, and chief of all two peaks, almost exactly similar, +black monsters which ruled the range. Toward the gorge between them +the valley of the Old Crow aimed its course, and straight up that +diminishing cańon she rode all day. +</P> + +<P> +The broad, sandy bottom changed and contracted until the channel was +scarcely wide enough for the meager stream of water, and beside it she +picked her way along a narrow bridle-path with banks on either side, +which became with every mile more like cliffs, walling her in and +dooming her to a single destination. +</P> + +<P> +It was evening before she came to the headwaters of the Old Crow, and +rode out into the gorge between the two mountains. The trail failed +her here. There was no semblance of a ravine to follow, except the +mighty gorge between the two peaks, and into the dark throat of this +pass she ventured, like some maiden of medieval romance riding through +a solemn gate with the guarding towers tall and black on either side. +</P> + +<P> +The moment she was well started in it and the steep shadow of the +evening fell across her almost like night from the west, her heart grew +cold as the air of that lofty region. A sense of coming danger filled +her, like a little child when it passes from a lighted room into one +dark and still. Yet she kept on, holding a tight rein, throwing many a +fearful glance at the vast rocks which might have concealed an entire +army in every mile of their extent. +</P> + +<P> +When she found the cabin she mistook it at first for merely another +rock of singular shape. It was at this shape that she stared, and +checked her horse, and not till then did she note the faint flicker of +a light no brighter or more distinct than the phosphorescent glow of +the eyes of a hunted beast. +</P> + +<P> +All her impulse was to drive her spurs home and pass that place at a +racing gallop, but she checked the impulse sharply and began to reason. +In the first place, it was doubtless only the cabin of some prospector, +such as she had often heard of. In the second place, night was almost +upon her, and she saw no desirable camping-place, or at least any with +the necessary water at hand. +</P> + +<P> +What harm could come to her? Among Western men, she well knew a woman +is safer than all the law and the police of the settled East can make +her, so she nerved her courage and advanced toward the faint, changing +light. +</P> + +<P> +The cabin was hidden very cunningly. Crouched among the mighty +boulders which earthquakes and storms of some wilder, earlier epoch had +torn away from the side of the crags above, the house was like another +stone, leaning its back to the mountain for support. +</P> + +<P> +When she drew very close she knew that the light which glimmered at the +window must come from an open fire, and the thought of a fire warmed +her very heart. She hallooed, and receiving no answer, fastened the +horses and entered the house. The door swung to behind her, as if of +its own volition it wished to make her close prisoner. +</P> + +<P> +The place consisted of one room, and not a spacious one at that, but +arranged as a shelter, not a home. The cooking, apparently, was done +over the open hearth, for there was no sign of any stove, and, +moreover, on the wall near the fireplace hung several soot-blackened +pans and the inevitable coffee-pot. +</P> + +<P> +There were two bunks built on opposite sides of the room, and in the +middle a table was made of a long section split from the heart of a log +by wedges, apparently, and still rude and undressed, except for the +preliminary smoothing off which had been done with a broad-ax. +</P> + +<P> +The great plank was supported at either end by a roughly constructed +saw-buck. It was very low, and for this reason two fairly square +boulders of comfortable proportions were sufficiently high to serve as +chairs. +</P> + +<P> +For the rest, the furniture was almost too meager to suggest human +habitation, but from nails on the wall there depended a few shirts and +a pair of chaps, as well as a much-battered quirt. But a bucket of +water in a corner suggested cleanliness, and a small, round, highly +polished steel plate, hanging on the wall in lieu of a mirror, further +fortified her decision that the owner of this place must be a man +somewhat particular as to his appearance. +</P> + +<P> +Here she interrupted her observations to build up the fire, which was +flickering down and apparently on the verge of going out. She worked +busily for a few minutes, and a roaring blaze rewarded her; she took +off her slicker to enjoy the warmth, and in doing so, turned, and saw +the owner of the place standing with folded arms just inside the door. +</P> + +<P> +"Making yourself to home?" asked the host, in a low, strangely pleasant +voice. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mind?" asked Mary Brown. "I couldn't find a place that would +do for camping." +</P> + +<P> +And she summoned her most winning smile. It was wasted, she knew at +once, for the stranger hardened perceptibly, and his lip curled +slightly in scorn or anger. In all her life Mary had never met a man +so obdurate, and, moreover, she felt that he could not be wooed into a +good humor. +</P> + +<P> +"If you'd gone farther up the gorge," said the other, "you'd of found +the best sort of a campin' place—water and everything." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'll go," said Mary, shrinking at the thought of the strange, +cold outdoors compared with this cheery fire. But she put on the +slicker and started for the door. +</P> + +<P> +At the last moment the host was touched with compunction. He called: +"Wait a minute. There ain't no call to hurry. If you can get along +here just stick around." +</P> + +<P> +For a moment Mary hesitated, knowing that only the unwritten law of +Western hospitality compelled that speech; it was the crackle and flare +of the bright fire which overcame her pride. +</P> + +<P> +She laid off the slicker again, saying, with another smile: "For just a +few minutes, if you don't mind." +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," said the other gracelessly, and tossed his own slicker onto a +bunk. +</P> + +<P> +Covertly, but very earnestly, Mary was studying him. He was hardly +more than a boy—handsome, slender. +</P> + +<P> +Now that handsome face was under a cloud of gloom, a frown on the +forehead and a sneer on the lips, but it was something more than the +expression which repelled Mary. For she felt that no matter how she +wooed him, she could never win the sympathy of this darkly handsome, +cruel youth; he was aloof from her, and the distance between them could +never be crossed. She knew at once that the mysterious bridges which +link men with women broke down in this case, and she was strongly +tempted to leave the cabin to the sole possession of her surly host. +</P> + +<P> +It was the warmth of the fire which once more decided against her +reason, so she laid hands on one of the blocks of stone to roll it +nearer to the hearth. She could not budge it. Then she caught the +sneering laughter of the man, and strove again in a fury. It was no +use; for the stone merely rocked a little and settled back in its place +with a bump. +</P> + +<P> +"Here," said the boy, "I'll move it for you." +</P> + +<P> +It was a hard lift for him, but he set his teeth, raised the stone in +his slender hands, and set it down again at a comfortable distance from +the fire. +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you," smiled Mary, but the boy stood panting against the wall, +and for answer merely bestowed on her a rather malicious glance of +triumph, as though he gloried in his superior strength and despised her +weakness. +</P> + +<P> +Some conversation was absolutely necessary, for the silence began to +weigh on her. She said: "My name is Mary Brown." +</P> + +<P> +"Is it?" said the boy, quite without interest. "You can call me Jack." +</P> + +<P> +He sat down on the other stone, his dark face swept by the shadows of +the flames, and rolled a cigarette, not deftly, but like one who is +learning the mastery of the art. It surprised Mary, watching his +fumbling fingers. She decided that Jack must be even younger than he +looked. +</P> + +<P> +She noticed also that the boy cast, from time to time, a sharp, rather +worried glance of expectation toward the door, as if he feared it would +open and disclose some important arrival. Furthermore, those old worn +shirts hanging on the wall were much too large for the throat and +shoulders of Jack. +</P> + +<P> +Apparently, he lived there with some companion, and a companion of such +a nature that he did not wish him to be seen by visitors. This +explained the lad's coldness in receiving a guest; it also stimulated +Mary to linger about a few more minutes. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap30"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE WHISPER OF THE KNIFE +</H3> + + +<P> +Not that she stayed there without a growing fear, but she still felt +about her, like the protection of some invisible cloak, the presence of +the strange guide who had followed her up the valley of the Old Crow. +</P> + +<P> +It seemed as if the boy were reading her mind. +</P> + +<P> +"See you got two horses. Come up alone?" +</P> + +<P> +"Most of the way," said Mary, and tingled with a rather feline pleasure +to see that her curtness merely sharpened the interest of Jack. +</P> + +<P> +The boy puffed on his cigarette, not with long, slow breaths of +inhalation like a practised smoker, but with a puckered face as though he +feared that the fumes might drift into his eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Why," thought Mary, "he's only a child!" +</P> + +<P> +Her heart warmed a little as she adopted this view-point of her surly +host. Being warmed, and having much to say, words came of themselves. +Surely it would do no harm to tell the story to this queer urchin, who +might be able to throw some light on the nature of the invisible +protector. +</P> + +<P> +"I started with a man for guide." She fixed a searching gaze on the boy. +"His name was Dick Wilbur." +</P> + +<P> +She could not tell whether it was a tremble of the boy's hand or a short +motion to knock off the cigarette ash. +</P> + +<P> +"Did you say 'was' Dick Wilbur?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. Did you know him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Heard of him, I think. Kind of a hard one, wasn't he?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, no! A fine, brave, gentle fellow—poor Dick!" +</P> + +<P> +She stopped, her eyes filling with tears at many a memory. +</P> + +<P> +"H-m!" coughed the boy. "I thought he was one of old Boone's gang? If +he's dead, that made the last of 'em—except Red Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +It was like the sound of a trumpet call at her ear. Mary sat up with a +start. +</P> + +<P> +"What do you know of Red Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +The boy flushed a little, and could not quite meet her eye. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothin'." +</P> + +<P> +"At least you know that he's still alive?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure. Any one does. When he dies the whole range will know about +it—damn quick. I know <I>that</I> much about Red Pierre; but who doesn't?" +</P> + +<P> +"I, for one." +</P> + +<P> +"You!" +</P> + +<P> +Strangely enough, there was more of accusation than of surprise in the +word. +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly," repeated Mary. "I've only been in this part of the country +for a short time. I really know almost nothing about the—the legends." +</P> + +<P> +"Legends?" said the boy, and laughed with a voice of such rich, light +music that it took the breath from Mary. "Legend? Say, lady, if Red +Pierre is just a legend the Civil War ain't no more'n a fable. Legend? +You go anywhere on the range an' get 'em talking about that legend, and +they'll make you think it's an honest-to-goodness fact, and no mistake." +</P> + +<P> +Mary queried earnestly: "Tell me about Red Pierre. It's almost as hard +to learn anything of him as it is to find out anything about McGurk." +</P> + +<P> +"What you doing?" asked the boy, keen with suspicion. "Making a study of +them two for a book?" +</P> + +<P> +He wiped a damp forehead. +</P> + +<P> +"Take it from me, lady, it ain't healthy to join up them two even in +talk!" +</P> + +<P> +"Is there any harm in words?" +</P> + +<P> +The boy was so upset for some unknown reason that he rose and paced up +and down the room in a nervous tremor. +</P> + +<P> +"Lots of harm in fool words." +</P> + +<P> +He sat down again, and seemed a little anxious to explain his unusual +conduct. +</P> + +<P> +"Ma'am, suppose you had a well plumb full of nitroglycerin in your back +yard; suppose there was a forest fire comin' your way from all sides; +would you like to have people talk about the nitroglycerin and that +forest fire meeting? Even the talk would give you chills. That's the +way it is with Pierre and McGurk. When they meet there's going to be a +fight that'll stop the hearts of the people that have to look on." +</P> + +<P> +Mary smiled to cover her excitement. +</P> + +<P> +"But are they coming your way?" +</P> + +<P> +The question seemed to infuriate young Jack, who cried: "Ain't that a +fool way of talkin'? Lady, they're coming every one's way. You never +know where they'll start from or where they'll land. If there's a +thunder-cloud all over the sky, do you know where the lightning's going +to strike?" +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me,", said Mary, but she was still eager with curiosity, "but I +should think that a youngster like you wouldn't have anything to fear +from even those desperadoes." +</P> + +<P> +"Youngster, eh?" snarled the boy, whose wrath seemed Implacable. "I can +make my draw and start my gun as fast as any man—except them two, +maybe"—he lowered his voice somewhat even to name them—"Pierre—McGurk!" +</P> + +<P> +"It seems hopeless to find out anything about McGurk," said Mary, "but at +least you can tell me safely about Red Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"Interested in him, eh?" said the boy dryly. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, he's a rather romantic figure, don't you think?" +</P> + +<P> +"Romantic? Lady, about a month ago I was talking with a lady that was a +widow because of Red Pierre. She didn't think him none too romantic." +</P> + +<P> +"Red Pierre had killed the woman's husband?" repeated Mary, with pale +lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Yep. He was one of the gang that took a chance with Pierre and got +bumped off. Had three bullets in him and dropped without getting his gun +out of the leather. Pierre sure does a nice, artistic job. He serves +you a murder with all the trimmings. If I wanted to die nice and polite +without making a mess, I don't know who I'd rather go to than Red Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"A murderer!" mused Mary, with bowed head. +</P> + +<P> +The boy opened his lips to speak, but changed his mind and sat regarding +the girl with a somewhat sinister smile. +</P> + +<P> +"But might it not be," said Mary, "that he killed one man in self-defense +and then his destiny drove him, and bad luck forced him into one bad +position after another? There have been histories as strange as that, +you know." +</P> + +<P> +Jack laughed again, but most of the music was gone from the sound, and it +was simply a low, ominous purr. +</P> + +<P> +"Sure," he said. "You can take a bear-cub and keep him tame till he gets +the taste of blood, but after that you got to keep him muzzled, you know. +Pierre needs a muzzle, but there ain't enough gun-fighters on the range +to put one on him." +</P> + +<P> +Something like pride crept into the boy's voice while he spoke, and he +ended with a ringing tone. Then, feeling the curious, judicial eyes of +Mary upon him, he abruptly changed the subject. +</P> + +<P> +"You say Dick Wilbur is dead?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know. I think he is." +</P> + +<P> +"But he started out with you. You ought to know." +</P> + +<P> +"It was like this: We had camped on the edge of the trees coming up the +Old Crow Valley, and Dick went off with the can to get water at the +river. He was gone a long time, and when I went out to look for him I +found the can at the margin of the river half filled with sand, and +beside it there was the impression of the body of a big man. That was +all I found, and Dick never came back." +</P> + +<P> +They were both silent for a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Could he have fallen into the river?" +</P> + +<P> +"Sure. He was probably helped in. Did you look for the footprints?" +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't think of that." +</P> + +<P> +Jack was speechless with scorn. +</P> + +<P> +"Sat down and cried, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"I was dazed; I couldn't think. But he couldn't have been killed by some +other man. There was no shot fired; I should have heard it." +</P> + +<P> +Jack moistened his lips. +</P> + +<P> +"Lady, a knife don't make much sound either going or coming out—not much +more sound than a whisper, but that whisper means a lot. I got an idea +that Dick heard it. Then the river covered him up." +</P> + +<P> +He stopped short and stared at Mary with squinted eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"D'you mean to tell me that you had the nerve to come all the way up the +Old Crow by yourself?" +</P> + +<P> +"Every inch of the way." +</P> + +<P> +Jack leaned forward, sneering, savage. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I suppose you put the hitch that's on that pack outside?" +</P> + +<P> +"No." +</P> + +<P> +Jack was dumfounded. +</P> + +<P> +"Then you admit—" +</P> + +<P> +"That first night when I went to sleep I felt as if there were something +near me. When I woke up there was a bright fire burning in front of me +and the pack had been lashed and placed on one of the horses. At first I +thought that it was Dick, who had come back. But Dick didn't appear all +day. The next night—" +</P> + +<P> +"Wait!" said Jack. "This is gettin' sort of creepy. If you was the +drinking kind I'd say you'd been hitting up the red-eye." +</P> + +<P> +"The next evening," continued Mary steadily, "I came about dark on a +camp-fire with a bed of twigs near it. I stayed by the fire, but no one +appeared. Once I thought I heard a horse whinny far away, and once I +thought that I saw a streak of white disappear over the top of a hill." +</P> + +<P> +The boy sprang up, shuddering with panic. +</P> + +<P> +"You saw what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing. I thought for a minute that it was a bit of something white, +but it was gone all at once." +</P> + +<P> +"White—vanished at once—went into the dark as fast as a horse can +gallop?" +</P> + +<P> +"Something like that. Do you think it was some one?" +</P> + +<P> +For answer the boy whipped out his revolver, examined it, and spun the +cylinder with shaking hands. Then he said through set teeth: "So you +come up here trailin' <I>him</I> after you, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Who?" +</P> + +<P> +"McGurk!" +</P> + +<P> +The name came like a rifle shot and Mary rose in turn and shrank back +toward the wall, for there was murder in the lighted black eyes which +stared after her and crumbling fear in her own heart at the thought of +McGurk hovering near,—of the peril that impended for Pierre. Of the +nights in the valley of the Crow she refused to let herself think. Cold +beads of perspiration stood out on her forehead. +</P> + +<P> +"You fool—you fool! Damn your pretty pink-and-white face—you've done +for us all! Get out!" +</P> + +<P> +Mary moved readily enough toward the door, her teeth chattering with +terror in the face of this fury. +</P> + +<P> +Jack continued wildly: "Done for us all; got us all as good as under the +sod. I wish you was in— Get out quick, or I'll forget—you're a woman!" +</P> + +<P> +He broke into a shrill, hysterical laughter, which stopped short and +finished in a heart-broken whisper: "Pierre!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap31"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +LAUGHTER +</H3> + + +<P> +At that Mary, who stood with her hand on the latch, whirled and stood +wide-eyed, her astonishment greater than her fear, for that whisper +told her a thousand things. +</P> + +<P> +Through her mind all the time that she stayed in the cabin there had +passed a curious surmise that this very place might be the covert of +Pierre le Rouge—he of the dark red hair and the keen blue eyes. There +was a fatality about it, for the invisible Power which had led her up +the valley of the Old Crow surely would not make mistakes. +</P> + +<P> +In her search for Pierre, Providence brought her to this place, and +Providence could not be wrong. This, a vague emotion stirring in her +somewhere between reason and the heart, grew to an almost certain +knowledge as she heard the whisper, the faint, heartbroken whisper: +"Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +And when she turned to the boy again, noting the shirts and the chaps +hanging at the wall, she knew they belonged to Pierre as surely as if +she had seen him hang them there. +</P> + +<P> +The fingers of Jack were twisted around the butt of his revolver, white +with the intensity of the pressure. +</P> + +<P> +Now he cried: "Get out! You've done your work; get out!" +</P> + +<P> +But Mary stepped straight toward the murderous, pale face. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll stay," she said, "and wait for Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +The boy blanched. +</P> + +<P> +"Stay?" he echoed. +</P> + +<P> +The heart of Mary went out to this trusty companion who feared for his +friend. +</P> + +<P> +She said gently: "Listen; I've come all this way looking for Pierre, +but not to harm him, or to betray him, I'm his friend. Can't you trust +me, Jack?" +</P> + +<P> +"Trust you? No more than I'll trust what came with you!" +</P> + +<P> +And the fierce black eyes lingered on Mary and then fled past her +toward the door, as if the boy debated hotly and silently whether or +not it would be better to put an end to this intruder, but stayed his +hand, fearing that Power which had followed her up the valley of the +Old Crow. +</P> + +<P> +It was that same invisible guardian who made Mary strong now; it was +like the hand of a friend on her shoulder, like the voice of a friend +whispering reassuring words at her ear. She faced those blazing, black +eyes steadily. It would be better to be frank, wholly frank. +</P> + +<P> +"This is the house of Pierre. I know it as surely as if I saw him +sitting here now. You can't deceive me. And I'll stay. I'll even +tell you why. Once he said that he loved me, Jack, but he left me +because of a strange superstition; and so I've followed to tell him +that I want to be near no matter what fate hangs over him." +</P> + +<P> +And the boy, whiter still, and whiter, looked at her with clearing, +narrowing eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"So you're one of them," said the boy softly; "you're one of the fools +who listen to Red Pierre. Well, I know you; I've known you from the +minute I seen you crouched there at the fire. You're the one Pierre +met at the dance at the Crittenden schoolhouse. Tell me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Mary, marveling greatly. +</P> + +<P> +"And he told you he loved you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +It was a fainter voice now, and the color was going up her cheeks. +</P> + +<P> +The lad fixed her with his cold scorn and then turned on his heel and +slipped into an easy position on the bunk. +</P> + +<P> +"Then wait for him to come. He'll be here before morning." +</P> + +<P> +But Mary followed across the room and touched the shoulder of Jack. It +was as if she touched a wild wolf, for the lad whirled and struck her +hand away in an outburst of silent fury. +</P> + +<P> +"Why shouldn't I stay? He hasn't—he hasn't changed—Jack?" +</P> + +<P> +The insolent black eyes looked up and scanned her slowly from head to +foot. Then he laughed in the same deliberate manner. It was to Mary +as if her clothes had been torn from her body and she were exposed to +the bold eyes of a crowd, like a slave put up for sale. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I guess he thinks as much of you now as he ever did." +</P> + +<P> +"You are lying to me," said the girl faintly, but the terror in her +eyes said another thing. +</P> + +<P> +"He thinks as much of you as he ever did. He thinks as much of you as +he does of the rest of the soft-handed, pretty-faced fools who listen +to him and believe him. I suppose——" +</P> + +<P> +He broke off to laugh heartily again, with a jarring, forced note which +escaped Mary. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose that he made love to you one minute and the next told you +that bad luck—something about the cross—kept him away from you?" +</P> + +<P> +Each slow word, like a blow of a fist, drove the girl quivering back. +She closed her eyes to shut out the scorn of that handsome, boyish +face; closed her eyes to summon out from the dark of her mind the +picture of Pierre le Rouge as he had knelt before her and told her of +his love; of Pierre le Rouge as he had lain beside her with the small, +shining cross held high above his head, and waited for death to come +over them both. She saw all this, and then she heard the voice of +Pierre renouncing her. +</P> + +<P> +She opened her eyes again. She cried: +</P> + +<P> +"It is all a lie! If he is not true, there's no truth in the world." +</P> + +<P> +"If you come down to that," said the boy coldly, "there ain't much +wasted this side of the Rockies. It's about as scarce as rain." +</P> + +<P> +He continued in an almost kindly tone: "What would you do with a wild +man like Red Pierre? Run along; git out of here; grab your horse, and +beat it back to civilization; there ain't no place for you up here in +the wilderness." +</P> + +<P> +"What would I do with him?" cried the girl. +</P> + +<P> +"Love him!" +</P> + +<P> +It seemed as though her words, like whips, lashed the boy back to his +murderous anger. He lay with blazing eyes, watching her for a moment, +too moved to speak. At last he propped himself on one elbow, shook a +small, white-knuckled fist under the nose of Mary, and cried: "Then +what would he do with you?" +</P> + +<P> +He went on: "Would he wear you around his neck like a watch charm?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'd bring him back with me—back into the East, and he would be lost +among the crowds and never suspected of his past." +</P> + +<P> +"<I>You'd</I> bring Pierre anywhere? Say, lady, that's like hearing the +sheep talk about leading the wolf around by the nose. If all the men +in the ranges can't catch him, or make him budge an inch out of the way +he's picked, do you think you could stir him?" +</P> + +<P> +Jeering laughter shook him; it seemed that he would never be done with +his laughter, yet there was a hint of the hysterically mirthless in it. +It came to a jarring stop. +</P> + +<P> +He said: "D'you think he's just bein' driven around by chance? Lady, +d'you think he even wants to get out of this life of his? No, he loves +it! He loves the danger. D'you think a man that's used to breathing +in a whirlwind can get used to living in calm air? It can't be done!" +</P> + +<P> +And the girl answered steadily: "For every man there is one woman, and +for that woman the man will do strange things." +</P> + +<P> +"You poor, white-raced, whimpering fool," snarled the boy, gripping at +his gun again, "d'you dream that <I>you're</I> the one that's picked out for +Pierre? No, there's another!" +</P> + +<P> +"Another? A woman who——" +</P> + +<P> +"Who loves Pierre—a woman that's fit for him. She can ride like a +man; she can shoot almost as straight and as fast as Pierre; she can +handle a knife; and she's been through hell for Pierre, and she'll go +through it again. She can ride the trail all day with him and finish +it less fagged than he is. She can chop down a tree as well as he can, +and build a fire better. She can hold up a train with him or rob a +bank and slip through a town in the middle of the night and laugh with +him about it afterward around a camp-fire. I ask you, is that the sort +of a woman that's meant for Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +And the girl answered, with bowed head: "She is." +</P> + +<P> +She cried instantly afterward, cutting short the look of wild triumph +on the face of the boy: "But there's no such woman; there's no one who +could do these things! I know it!" +</P> + +<P> +The boy sprang to his feet, flushing as red as the girl was white. +</P> + +<P> +"You fool, if you're blind and got to have your eyes open to see, look +at the woman!" +</P> + +<P> +And she tore the wide-brimmed sombrero from her head. Down past the +shoulders flooded a mass of blue-black hair. The firelight flickered +and danced across the silken shimmer of it. It swept wildly past the +waist, a glorious, night-dark tide in which the heart of a strong man +could be tangled and lost. With quivering lips Jacqueline cried: "Look +at me! Am I worthy of him?" +</P> + +<P> +Short step by step Mary went back, staring with fascinated eyes as one +who sees some devilish, midnight revelry, and shrinks away from it lest +the sight should blast her. She covered her eyes with her hands but +instantly strong grips fell on her wrists and her hands were jerked +down from her face. She looked up into the eyes of a beautiful tigress. +</P> + +<P> +"Answer me—your yellow hair against mine—your child fingers against +my grip—are you equal with me?" +</P> + +<P> +But the strength of Jacqueline faded and grew small; her arms fell to +her side; she stepped back, with a rising pallor taking the place of +the red. For Mary, brushing her hands, one gloved and one bare, before +her eyes, returned the stare of the mountain girl with a calm and equal +scorn. Her heart was breaking, but a mighty loathing filled up her +veins in place of strength. +</P> + +<P> +"Tell me," she said, "was—was this man living with you when he came to +me and—and made speeches—about love?" +</P> + +<P> +"Bah! He was living with me. I tell you, he came back and laughed +with me about it, and told me about your baby-blue eyes when they +filled with tears; laughed and laughed and laughed, I tell you, as I +could laugh now." +</P> + +<P> +The other twisted her hands together, moaning: "And I have followed +him, even to the place where he keeps his—woman? Ah, how I hate +myself; how I despise myself. I'm unclean—unclean in my own eyes!" +</P> + +<P> +"Wait!" called Jacqueline. "You are leaving too soon. The night is +cold." +</P> + +<P> +"I am going. There is no need to gibe at me." +</P> + +<P> +"But wait—he will want to see you! I will tell him that you have been +here—that you came clear up the valley of the Old Crow to see him and +beg him on your knees to love you—he'll be angry to have missed the +scene!" +</P> + +<P> +But the door closed on Mary as she fled with her hands pressed against +her ears. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap32"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A TALE OF A CARELESS MAN +</H3> + + +<P> +Jacqueline ran to the door and threw it open. +</P> + +<P> +"Ride down the valley!" she cried. "That's right. He's coming up, and +he'll meet you on the way. He'll be glad—to see you!" +</P> + +<P> +She saw the rider swing sharply about, and the clatter of the galloping +hoofs died out up the valley; then she closed the door, dropped the +latch, and, running to the middle of the room, threw up her arms and +cried out, a wild, shrill yell of triumph like the call of the old +Indian brave when he rises with the scalp of his murdered enemy +dripping in his hand. +</P> + +<P> +The extended arms she caught back to her breast, and stood there with +head tilted back, crushing her delight closer to her heart. +</P> + +<P> +And she whispered: "Pierre! Mine, mine! Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +Next she went to the steel mirror on the wall and looked long at the +flushed, triumphant image. At length she started, like one awakening +from a happy dream, and hurriedly coiled the thick, soft tresses about +her head. Never before had she lingered so over a toilet, patting each +lock into place, twisting her head from side to side like a peacock +admiring its image. +</P> + +<P> +Now she looked about hungrily for a touch of color and uttered a little +moan of vexation when she saw nothing, till her eyes, piercing through +the gloom of a dim corner, saw a spray of autumn leaves, long left +there and still stained with beauty. She fastened them at the breast +of her shirt, and so arrayed began to cook. +</P> + +<P> +Never was there a merrier cook, not even some jolly French chef with a +heart made warm with good red wine, for she sang as she worked, and +whenever she had to cross the room it was with a dancing step. Spring +was in her blood, warm spring that loosens the muscles about the heart +and makes the eyes of girls dim and sets men smiling for no cause +except that they are living, and rejoicing with the whole awakening +world. +</P> + +<P> +So it was with Jacqueline. Ever and anon as she leaned over the pans +and stirred the fire she raised her head and remained a moment +motionless, waiting for a sound, yearning to hear, and each time she +had to look down again with a sigh. +</P> + +<P> +As it was, he took her by surprise, for he entered with the soft foot +of the hunted and remained an instant searching the room with a careful +glance. Not that he suspected, not that he had not relaxed his guard +and his vigilance the moment he caught sight of the flicker of light +through the mass of great boulders, but the lifelong habit of +watchfulness remained with him. +</P> + +<P> +Even when he spoke face to face with a man, he never seemed to be +giving more than half his attention, for might not some one else +approach if he lost himself in order to listen to any one voice? He +had covered half the length of the room with that soundless step before +she heard, and rose with a glad cry: "Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +Meeting that calm blue eye, she checked herself mightily. +</P> + +<P> +"A hard ride?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing much." +</P> + +<P> +He took the rock nearest the fire and then raised a glance of inquiry. +</P> + +<P> +"I got cold," she said, "and rolled it over." +</P> + +<P> +He considered her and then the rock, not with suspicion, but as if he +held the matter in abeyance for further consideration; a hunted man and +a hunter must keep an eye for little things, must carry an armed hand +and an armed heart even among friends. As for Jacqueline, her color +had risen, and she leaned hurriedly over a pan in which meat was frying. +</P> + +<P> +"Any results?" she asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Some." +</P> + +<P> +She waited, knowing that the story would come at length. +</P> + +<P> +He added after a moment: "Strange how careless some people get to be." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes?" she queried. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +Another pause, during which he casually drummed his fingers on his +knee. She saw that he must receive more encouragement before he would +tell, and she gave it, smiling to herself. Women are old in certain +ways of understanding in which men remain children forever. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose we're still broke, Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +"Broke? Well, not entirely. I got some results." +</P> + +<P> +"Good." +</P> + +<P> +"As a matter of fact, it was a pretty fair haul. Watch that meat, +Jack; I think it's burning." +</P> + +<P> +It was hardly beginning to cook, but she turned it obediently and hid +another slow smile. Rising, she passed behind his chair, and pretended +to busy herself with something near the wall. This was the environment +and attitude which would make him talk most freely, she knew. +</P> + +<P> +"Speaking of careless men," said Pierre, "I could tell you a yarn, +Jack." +</P> + +<P> +She stood close behind him and made about his unconscious head a +gesture of caress, the overflow of an infinite tenderness. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd sure like to hear it, Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, it was like this: I knew a fellow who started on the range with +a small stock of cattle. He wasn't a very good worker, and he didn't +understand cattle any too well, so he didn't prosper for quite a while. +Then his affairs took a sudden turn for the better; his herd began to +increase. Nobody understood the reason, though a good many suspected, +but one man fell onto the reason: our friend was simply running in a +few doggies on the side, and he'd arranged a very ingenious way of +changing the brands." +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre—" +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" +</P> + +<P> +"What does 'ingenious' mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, I should say it means 'skilful, clever,' and it carries with it +the connotation of 'novel.'" +</P> + +<P> +"It carries the con-conno—what's that word, Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to get some books for you, Jack, and we'll do a bit of +reading on the side, shall we?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'd love that!" +</P> + +<P> +He turned and looked up to her sharply. +</P> + +<P> +He said: "Sometimes, Jack, you talk just like a girl." +</P> + +<P> +"Do I? That's queer, isn't it? But go on with the story." +</P> + +<P> +"He changed the brands very skilfully, and no one got the dope on him +except this one man I mentioned; and that man kept his face shut. He +waited. +</P> + +<P> +"So it went on for a good many years. The herd of our friend grew very +rapidly. He sold just enough cattle to keep himself and his wife +alive; he was bent on making one big haul, you see. So when his +doggies got to the right age and condition for the market, he'd trade +them off, one fat doggie for two or three skinny yearlings. But +finally he had a really big herd together, and shipped it off to the +market on a year when the price was sky-high." +</P> + +<P> +"Like this year?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't interrupt me, Jack!" +</P> + +<P> +From the shadow behind him she smiled again. +</P> + +<P> +"They went at a corking price, and our friend cleared up a good many +thousand—I won't say just how much. He sank part of it in a ruby +brooch for his wife, and shoved the rest into a satchel. +</P> + +<P> +"You see how careful he'd been all those years while he was piling up +his fortune? Well, he began to get careless the moment he cashed in, +which was rather odd. He depended on his fighting power to keep that +money safe, but he forgot that while he'd been making a business of +rustling doggies and watching cattle markets, other men had been making +a business of shooting fast and straight. +</P> + +<P> +"Among others there was the silent man who'd watched and waited for so +long. But this silent man hove alongside while our rich friend was +bound home in a buckboard. +</P> + +<P> +"'Good evening!' he called. +</P> + +<P> +"The rich chap turned and heard; it all seemed all right, but he'd done +a good deal of shady business in his day, and that made him suspicious +of the silent man now. So he reached for his gun and got it out just +in time to be shot cleanly through the hand. +</P> + +<P> +"The silent man tied up that hand and sympathized with the rich chap; +then he took that satchel and divided the paper money into two bundles. +One was twice the size of the other, and the silent man took the +smaller one. There was only twelve thousand dollars in it. Also, he +took the ruby brooch for a friend—and as a sort of keepsake, you know. +And he delivered a short lecture to the rich man on the subject of +carelessness and rode away. The rich man picked up his gun with his +left hand and opened fire, but he'd never learned to shoot very well +with that hand, so the silent man came through safe." +</P> + +<P> +"That's a bully story," said Jack. "Who was the silent man?" +</P> + +<P> +"I think you've seen him a few times, at that." +</P> + +<P> +She concealed another smile, and said in the most businesslike manner: +"Chow-time, Pierre," and set out the pans on the table. +</P> + +<P> +"By the way," he said easily, "I've got a little present for you, Jack." +</P> + +<P> +And he took out a gold pin flaming with three great rubies. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap33"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A COUNT TO TEN +</H3> + + +<P> +She merely stared, like a child which may either burst into tears or +laughter, no one can prophesy which. +</P> + +<P> +He explained, rather worried: "You see, you are a girl, Jack, and I +remembered that you were pleased about those clothes that you wore to +the dance in Crittenden Schoolhouse, and so when I saw that pin +I—well—" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Pierre!" said a stifled voice, "Oh, Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +"By Jove, Jack, aren't angry, are you? See, when you put it at the +throat it doesn't look half bad!" +</P> + +<P> +And to try it, he pinned it on her shirt. She caught both his hands, +kissed them again and again, and then buried her face against them as +she sobbed. If the heavens had opened and a cloudburst crashed on the +roof of the house, he would have been less astounded. +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" he cried. "Damn it all—Jack—you see—I meant—" +</P> + +<P> +But she tore herself away and flung herself face down on the bunk, +sobbing more bitterly than ever. He followed, awestricken—terrified. +</P> + +<P> +He touched her shoulder, but she shrank away and seemed more distressed +than ever. It was not the crying of a weak woman: these were +heart-rending sounds, like the sobbing of a man who has never before +known tears. +</P> + +<P> +"Jack—perhaps I've done something wrong—" +</P> + +<P> +He stammered again: "I didn't dream I was hurting you—" +</P> + +<P> +Then light broke upon him. +</P> + +<P> +He said: "It's because you don't want to be treated like a silly girl; +eh, Jack?" +</P> + +<P> +But to complete his astonishment she moaned: "N-n-no! It's b-b-because +you—you n-n-never <I>do</I> t-treat me like a g-g-girl, P-P-Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +He groaned heartily: "Well, I'll be damned!" +</P> + +<P> +And because he was thoughtful he strode away, staring at the floor. It +was then that he saw it, small and crumpled on the floor. He picked it +up—a glove of the softest leather. He carried it back to Jacqueline. +</P> + +<P> +"What's this?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wh-wh-what?" +</P> + +<P> +"This glove I found on the floor?" +</P> + +<P> +The sobs decreased at once—broke out more violently—and then she +sprang up from the bunk, face suffused, and eyes timidly seeking his +with upward glances. +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, I've acted a regular chump. Are you out with me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a bit, old-timer. But about this glove?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, that's one of mine." +</P> + +<P> +She took it and slipped it into the bosom of her shirt—the calm blue +eye of Pierre noted. +</P> + +<P> +He said: "We'll eat and forget the rest of this, if you want, Jack." +</P> + +<P> +"And you ain't mad at me, Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not a bit." +</P> + +<P> +There was just a trace of coldness in his tone, and she knew perfectly +why it was there, but she chose to ascribe it to another cause. +</P> + +<P> +She explained: "You see, a woman is just about nine-tenths fool, +Pierre, and has to bust out like that once in a while." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh!" said Pierre, and his eyes wandered past her as though he found +food for thought on the wall. +</P> + +<P> +She ventured cautiously, after seeing that he was eating with appetite: +"How does the pin look?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, fine." +</P> + +<P> +And the silence began again. +</P> + +<P> +She dared not question him in that mood, so she ventured again: "The +old boy shooting left-handed—didn't he even fan the wind near you?" +</P> + +<P> +"That was another bit of carelessness," said Pierre, but his smile held +little of life. "He might have known that if he <I>had</I> shot close—by +accident—I might have turned around and shot him dead—on purpose. +But when a man stops thinking for a minute, he's apt to go on for a +long time making a fool of himself." +</P> + +<P> +"Right," she said, brightening as she felt the crisis pass away, "and +that reminds me of a story about—" +</P> + +<P> +"By the way, Jack, I'll wager there's a more interesting story than +that you could tell me." +</P> + +<P> +"What?" +</P> + +<P> +"About how that glove happened to be on the floor." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, partner, it's just a glove of my own." +</P> + +<P> +"Didn't know you wore gloves with a leather as soft as that." +</P> + +<P> +"No? Well, that story I was speaking about runs something like this—" +</P> + +<P> +And she told him a gay narrative, throwing all her spirit into it, for +she was an admirable mimic. He met her spirit more than half-way, +laughing gaily; and so they reached the end of the story and the end of +the meal at the same time. She cleared away the pans with a few +motions and tossed them clattering into a corner. Neat housekeeping +was not numbered among the many virtues of Jacqueline. +</P> + +<P> +"Now," said Pierre, leaning back against the wall, "we'll hear about +that glove." +</P> + +<P> +"Damn the glove!" broke from her. +</P> + +<P> +"Steady, pal!" +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, are you going to nag me about a little thing like that?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Jack, you're red and white in patches. I'm interested." +</P> + +<P> +He sat up. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm more than interested. The story, Jack." +</P> + +<P> +"Well, I suppose I have to tell you. I did a fool thing to-day. Took +a little gallop down the trail, and on my way back I met a girl sitting +in her saddle with her face in her hands, crying her heart out. Poor +kid! She'd come up in a hunting party and got separated from the rest. +</P> + +<P> +"So I got sympathetic—" +</P> + +<P> +"About the first time on record that you've been sympathetic with +another girl, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Shut up, Pierre! And I brought her in here—right into your cabin, +without thinking what I was doing, and gave her a cup of coffee. Of +course it was a pretty greenhorn trick, but I guess no harm will come +of it. The girl thinks it's a prospector's cabin—which it was once. +She went on her way, happy, because I told her of the right trail to +get back with her gang. That's all there is to it. Are you mad at me +for letting any one come into this place?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mad?" he smiled. "No, I think that's one of the best lies you ever +told me, Jack." +</P> + +<P> +Their eyes met, hers very wide, and his keen and steady. The she +gripped at the butt of her gun, an habitual trick when she was very +angry, and cried: +</P> + +<P> +"Do I have to sit here and let you call me—that? Pierre, pull a few +more tricks like that and I'll call for a new deal. Get me?" +</P> + +<P> +She rose, whirled, and threw herself sullenly on her bunk. +</P> + +<P> +"Come back," said Pierre. "You're more scared than angry. Why are you +afraid, Jack?" +</P> + +<P> +"It's a lie—I'm not afraid!" +</P> + +<P> +"Let me see that glove again." +</P> + +<P> +"You've seen it once—that's enough." +</P> + +<P> +He whistled carelessly, rolling a cigarette. After he lighted it he +said: "Ready to talk yet, partner?" +</P> + +<P> +She maintained an obstinate silence, but that sharp eye saw that she +was trembling. He set his teeth and then drew several long puffs on +his cigarette. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm going to count to ten, pal, and when I finish you're going to tell +me everything straight. In the mean time don't stay there thinking up +a new lie. I know you too well, and if you try the same thing on me +again—" +</P> + +<P> +"Well?" she snarled, all the tiger coming back in her voice. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll talk, all right. Here goes the count: One—two—three—four—" +</P> + +<P> +As he counted, leaving a long drag of two or three seconds between +numbers, there was not a change in the figure of the girl. She still +lay with her back turned on him, and the only expressive part that +showed was her hand. First it lay limp against her hip, but as the +monotonous count proceeded it gathered to a fist. +</P> + +<P> +"Five—six—seven—" +</P> + +<P> +It seemed that he had been counting for hours, his will against her +will, the man in him against the woman in her, and during the pauses +between the sound of his voice the very air grew charged with waiting. +To the girl the wait for every count was like the wait of the doomed +traitor when he stands facing the firing-squad, watching the glimmer of +light go down the aimed rifles. +</P> + +<P> +For she knew the face of the man who sat there counting; she knew how +the firelight flared in the dark-red of his hair and made it seem like +another fire beneath which the blue of the eyes was strangely cold and +keen. Her hand had gathered to a hard-balled fist. +</P> + +<P> +"Eight—nine—" +</P> + +<P> +She sprang up, screaming: "No, no, Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +And threw out her arms to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Ten." +</P> + +<P> +She whispered: "It was the girl with yellow hair—Mary Brown." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap34"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXIV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +TIGER-HEART +</H3> + + +<P> +It was as if she had said: "Good morning!" in the calmest of voices. +There was no answer in him, neither word nor expression, and out of ten +sharp-eyed men, nine would have passed him by without noting the +difference; but the girl knew him as the monk knows his prayers or the +Arab his horse, and a solemn, deep despair came over her. She felt +like the drowning, when the water closes over their heads for the last +time. +</P> + +<P> +He puffed twice again at the cigarette and then flicked the butt into +the fire. When he spoke it was only to say: "Did she stay long?" +</P> + +<P> +But his eyes avoided her. She moved a little so as to read his face, +but when he turned again and answered her stare she winced. +</P> + +<P> +"Not very long, Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah," he said, "I see! It was because she didn't dream that this was +the place I lived in." +</P> + +<P> +It was the sort of heartless, torturing questioning which was once the +crudest weapon of the inquisition. With all her heart she fought to +raise her voice above the whisper whose very sound accused her, but +could not. She was condemned to that voice as the man bound in +nightmare is condemned to walk slowly, slowly, though the terrible +danger is racing toward him, and the safety which he must reach lies +only a dozen steps, a dozen mortal steps away. +</P> + +<P> +She said in that voice: "No; of course she didn't dream it." +</P> + +<P> +"And you, Jack, had her interests at heart—her best interests, poor +girl, and didn't tell her?" +</P> + +<P> +Her hands went out to him in mute appeal. +</P> + +<P> +"Please, Pierre—don't!" +</P> + +<P> +"Is something troubling you, Jack?" +</P> + +<P> +"You are breaking my heart." +</P> + +<P> +"Why, by no means! Let's sit here calmly and chat about the girl with +the yellow hair. To begin with—she's rather pleasant to look at, +don't you think?" +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose she is." +</P> + +<P> +"H-m! rather poor taste not to be sure of it. Well, let it go. You've +always had rather queer taste in women, Jack; but, of course, being a +long-rider, you haven't seen much of them. At least her name is +delightful—Mary Brown! You've no idea how often I've repeated it +aloud to myself and relished the sound—Mary Brown!" +</P> + +<P> +"I hate her!" +</P> + +<P> +"You two didn't have a very agreeable time of it? By the way, she must +have left in rather a hurry to forget her glove, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, she ran—like a coward." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah?" +</P> + +<P> +"Like a trembling coward. How can you care for a white-faced little +fool like that? Is she your match? Is she your mate?" +</P> + +<P> +He considered a moment, as though to make sure that he did not +exaggerate. +</P> + +<P> +"I love her, Jack, as men love water when they've ridden all day over +hot sand without a drop on their lips—you know when the tongue gets +thick and the mouth fills with cotton—and then you see clear, bright +water, and taste it." +</P> + +<P> +"She is like that to me. She feeds every sense; and when I look in her +eyes, Jack, I feel like the starved man on the desert, as I was saying, +drinking that priceless water. You knew something of the way I feel, +Jack. Isn't it a little odd that you didn't keep her here?" +</P> + +<P> +She had stood literally shuddering during this speech, and now she +burst out, far beyond all control: "Because she loathes you; because +she hates herself for ever having loved you; because she despises +herself for having ridden up here after you. Does that fill your cup +of water, Pierre, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +His forehead was shining with sweat, but he set his teeth, and, after a +moment, he was able to say in the same hard, calm voice: "I suppose +there was no real reason for her change. She can be persuaded back to +me in a moment. In that case just tell me where she has gone and I'll +ride after her." +</P> + +<P> +He made as if to rise, but she cried in a panic, and yet with a wild +exultation: "No, she's done with you forever, and the more you make +love to her now the more she'll hate you. Because she knows that when +you kissed her before—when you kissed her—you were living with a +woman." +</P> + +<P> +"I—living with a woman?" +</P> + +<P> +Her voice had risen out of the whisper for the outbreak. Now it sank +back into it. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—with me!" +</P> + +<P> +"With you? I see. Naturally it must have gone hard with her—Mary! +And she wouldn't see reason even when you explained that you and I are +like brothers?" +</P> + +<P> +He leaned a little toward her and just a shade of emotion came in his +voice. +</P> + +<P> +"When you carefully explained, Jack, with all the eloquence you could +command, that you and I have ridden and fought and camped together like +brothers for six years? And how I gave you your first gun? And how +I've stayed between you and danger a thousand times? And how I've +never treated you otherwise than as a man? And how I've given you the +love of a blood-brother to take the place of the brother who died? And +how I've kept you in a clean and pure respect such as a man can only +give once in his life—and then only to his dearest friend? She +wouldn't listen—even when you talked to her like this?" +</P> + +<P> +"For God's sake—Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, but you talked well enough to pave the way for me. You talked so +eloquently that with a little more persuasion from me she will know and +understand. Come, I must be gone after her. Which way did she +ride—up or down the valley?" +</P> + +<P> +"You could talk to her forever and she'd never listen. Pierre, I told +her that I was—your woman—that you'd told me of your scenes with +her—and that we'd laughed at them together." +</P> + +<P> +She covered her eyes and crouched, waiting for the wrath that would +fall on her, but he only smiled bitterly on the bowed head, saying: +"Why have I waited so long to hear you say what I knew already? I +suppose because I wouldn't believe until I heard the whole abominable +truth from your own lips. Jack, why did you do it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Won't you see? Because I've loved you always, Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +"Love—you—your tiger-heart? No, but you were like a cruel, selfish +child. You were jealous because you didn't want the toy taken away. I +knew it. I knew that even if I rode after her it would be hopeless. +Oh, God, how terribly you've hurt me, partner!" +</P> + +<P> +It wrung a little moan from her. He said after a moment: "It's only +the ghost of a chance, but I'll have to take it. Tell me which way she +rode? No? Then I'll try to find her." +</P> + +<P> +She leaped between him and the door, flinging her shoulders against it +with a crash and standing with outspread arms to bar the way. +</P> + +<P> +"You must not go!" +</P> + +<P> +He turned his head somewhat. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't stand in front of me, Jack. You know I'll do what I say, and +just now it's a bit hard for me to face you." +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, I feel as if there were a hand squeezing my heart small, and +small, and small. Pierre, I'd die for you!" +</P> + +<P> +"I know you would. I know you would, partner. It was only a mistake, +and you acted the way any cold-hearted boy would act if—if some one +were to try to steal his horse, for instance. But just now it's hard +for me to look at you and be calm." +</P> + +<P> +"Don't try to be! Swear at me—curse—rave—beat me; I'd be glad of +the blows, Pierre. I'd hold out my arms to 'em. But don't go out that +door!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because—if you found her—she's not alone." +</P> + +<P> +"Say that slowly. I don't understand. She's not alone?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll try to tell you from the first. She started out for you with +Dick Wilbur for a guide." +</P> + +<P> +"Good old Dick, God bless him! I'll fill all his pockets with gold for +that; and he loves her, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"You'll never see Dick Wilbur again. On the first night they camped +she missed him when he went for water. She went down after a while and +saw the mark of his body on the sand. He never appeared again." +</P> + +<P> +"Who was it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Listen. The next morning she woke up and found that some one had +taken care of the fire while she slept, and her pack was lashed on one +of the saddles. She rode on that day and came at night to a camp-fire +with a bed of boughs near it and no one in sight. She took that camp +for herself and no one showed up. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you see? Some one was following her up the valley and taking +care of the poor baby on the way. Some one who was afraid to let +himself be seen. Perhaps it was the man who killed Dick Wilbur without +a sound there beside the river; perhaps as Dick died he told the man +who killed him about the lonely girl and this other man was white +enough to help Mary. +</P> + +<P> +"But all Mary ever saw of him was that second night when she thought +that she saw a streak of white, traveling like a galloping horse, that +disappeared over a hill and into the trees—" +</P> + +<P> +"A streak of white—" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, yes! The white horse—McGurk!" +</P> + +<P> +"McGurk!" repeated Pierre stupidly; then: "And you knew she would be +going out to him when she left this house?" +</P> + +<P> +"I knew—Pierre—don't look at me like that—I knew that it would be +murder to let you cross with McGurk. You're the last of seven—he's a +devil—no man—" +</P> + +<P> +"And you let her go out into the night—to him." +</P> + +<P> +She clung to a last thread of hope: "If you met him and killed him with +the luck of the cross it would bring equal bad luck on some one you +love—on the girl, Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +He was merely repeating stupidly: "You let her go out—to him—in the +night! She's in his arms now—you devil—you tiger—" +</P> + +<P> +She threw herself down and clung about his knees with hysterical +strength. +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, you shall not go. Pierre, you walk on my heart if you go!" +</P> + +<P> +He tore the little cross from his neck and flung it into her upturned +face. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't make me put my hands on you, Jack. Let me go!" +</P> + +<P> +There was no need to tear her grasp away. She crumpled and slipped +sidewise to the floor. He leaned over and shook her violently by the +shoulder. +</P> + +<P> +"Which way did she ride? Which way did they ride?" +</P> + +<P> +She whispered: "Down the valley, Pierre; down the valley; I swear they +rode that way." +</P> + +<P> +And as she lay in a half swoon she heard the faint clatter of galloping +hoofs over the rooks and a wild voice yelling, fainter and fainter with +distance: +</P> + +<P> +"McGurk!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap35"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXV +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +JACK HEARS A SMALL VOICE +</H3> + + +<P> +It came back to her like a threat; it beat at her ears and roused her, +that continually diminishing cry: "McGurk!" It went down the valley, +and Mary Brown, and McGurk with her, perhaps, had gone up the gorge, +but it would be a matter of a short time before Pierre le Rouge +discovered that there was no camp-fire to be sighted in the lower +valley and whirled to storm back up the cańon with that battle-cry: +"McGurk!" still on his lips. +</P> + +<P> +And if the two met she knew the result. Seven strong men had ridden +together, fought together, and one by one they had fallen, disappeared +like the white smoke of the camp-fire, jerked off into thin air by the +wind, until only one remained. +</P> + +<P> +How clearly she could see them all! Bud Mansie, meager, lean, with a +shifting eye; Garry Patterson, of the red, good-natured face; Phil +Branch, stolid and short and muscled like a giant; Handsome Dick Wilbur +on his racing bay; Black Gandil, with his villainies from the South +Seas like an invisible mantle of awe about him; and her father, the +stalwart, gray Boone. +</P> + +<P> +All these had gone, and there remained only Pierre le Rouge to follow +in the steps of the six who had gone before. +</P> + +<P> +She crawled to the door, feeble in mind and shuddering of body like a +runner who has spent his last energy in a long race, and drew it open. +The wind blew up the valley from the Old Crow, but no sound came back +to her, no calling from Pierre; and over her rose the black pyramid of +the western peak of the Twin Bears like a monstrous nose pointing +stiffly toward the stars. +</P> + +<P> +She closed the door, dragged herself back to her feet, and stood with +her shoulders leaning against the wall. Her weakness was not +weariness—it was as if something had been taken from her. She +wondered at herself somewhat vaguely. Surely she had never been like +this before, with the singular coldness about her heart and the feeling +of loss, of infinite loss. +</P> + +<P> +What had she lost? She began to search her mind for an answer. Then +she smiled uncertainly, a wan, small smile. It was very clear; what +she had lost was all interest in life and all hope for the brave +to-morrow. Nothing remained of all those lovely dreams which she had +built up by day and night about the figure of Pierre le Rouge. He was +gone, and the bright-colored bubble she had blown vanished at once. +</P> + +<P> +She felt a slight pain at her forehead and then remembered the cross +which Pierre had thrown into her face. Casting that away he had thrown +his faintest chance of victory with it; it would be a slaughter, not a +battle, and red-handed McGurk would leave one more foe behind him. +</P> + +<P> +But looking down she found the cross and picked up the shining bit of +metal; it seemed as if she held the greater part of Pierre le Rouge in +her hands. She raised the cross to her lips. +</P> + +<P> +When she fastened the cross about her throat it was with no exultation, +but like one who places over his heart a last memorial of the dead; a +consecration, like the red sign or the white which the crusaders wore +on the covers of their shields. +</P> + +<P> +Then she took from her breast the spray of autumn leaves. He had not +noticed them, yet perhaps they had helped to make him gay when he came +into the cabin that night, so she placed the spray on the table. Next +she unpinned the great rubies from her throat and let her eye linger +over them for a moment. They were chosen stones, each as deeply +lighted as an eye, if there ever were eyes of this blood-red, and they +looked up at her with a lure and a challenge at once. +</P> + +<P> +The first thought of what she must do came to Jacqueline then, but not +in an overwhelming tide—it was rather a small voice that whispered in +her heart. +</P> + +<P> +Last, she took from her bosom the glove of the yellow-haired girl. +Compared with her stanch riding gloves, how small was this! Yet, when +she tried it, it slipped easily on her hand. This she laid in that +little pile, for these were the things which Pierre would wish to find +if by some miracle he came back from the battle. The spray, perhaps, +he would not understand; and yet he might. She pressed both hands to +her breast and drew a long breath, for her heart was breaking. Through +her misted eyes she could barely see the shimmer of the cross. +</P> + +<P> +That sight made her look up, searching for a superhuman aid in her woe, +and for the first time in her life a conception of God dawned on her +wild, gay mind. She made a picture of him like a vast cloud looming +over the Twin Bear peaks and breathing an infinite calm over the +mountains. The cloud took a faintly human shape—a shape somewhat like +that of her father when he lived, for he could be both stern and +gentle, as she well knew, and such gray Boone had been. +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps it was because of this that another picture came out of her +infancy of a soft voice, of a tender-touching hand, of brooding, +infinitely loving eyes. She smiled the wan smile again because for the +first time it came to her that she, too, even she, the wild, the +"tiger-heart," as Pierre himself had called her, might one day have +been the mother of a child, his child. +</P> + +<P> +But the ache within her grew so keen that she dropped, writhing, to her +knees, and twisted her hands together in agony. It was prayer. There +were no words to it, but it was prayer, a wild appeal for aid. +</P> + +<P> +That aid came in the form of a calm that swept on her like the flood of +a clear moonlight over a storm-beaten landscape. The whisper which had +come to her before was now a solemn-speaking voice, and she knew what +she must do. She could not keep the two men apart, but she might reach +McGurk before and strike him down by stealth, by craft, any way to kill +that man as terrible as a devil, as invulnerable as a ghost. +</P> + +<P> +This she might do in the heart of the night, and afterward she might +have the courage left to tell the girl the truth and then creep off +somewhere and let this steady pain burn its way out of her heart. +</P> + +<P> +Once she had reached a decision, it was characteristic that she moved +swiftly. Also, there was cause for haste, for by this time Pierre must +have discovered that there was no one in the lower reaches of the gorge +and would be galloping back with all the speed of the cream-colored +mare which even McGurk's white horse could not match. +</P> + +<P> +She ran from the cabin and into the little lean-to behind it where the +horses were tethered. There she swung her saddle with expert hands, +whipped up the cinch, and pulled it with the strength of a man, +mounted, and was off up the gorge. +</P> + +<P> +For the first few minutes she let the long-limbed black race on at full +speed, a breathless course, because the beat of the wind in her face +raised her courage, gave her a certain impulse which was almost +happiness, just as the martyrs rejoiced and held out their hands to the +fire that was to consume them; but after the first burst of headlong +galloping, she drew down the speed to a hand-canter, and this in turn +to a fast trot, for she dared not risk the far-echoed sound of the +clattering hoofs over the rock. +</P> + +<P> +And as she rode she saw at last the winking eye of red which she longed +for and dreaded. She pulled her black to an instant halt and swung +from the saddle, tossing the reins over the head of the horse to keep +him standing there. +</P> + +<P> +Yet, after she had made half a dozen hurried paces something forced her +to turn and look again at the handsome head of the horse. He stood +quite motionless, with his ears pricking after her, and now as she +stopped he whinnied softly, hardly louder than the whisper of a man. +So she ran back again and threw the reins over the horn of the saddle; +he should be free to wander where he chose through the free mountains, +but as for her, she knew very certainly now that she would never mount +that saddle again, or control that triumphant steed with the touch of +her hands on the reins. She put her arms around his neck and drew his +head down close. +</P> + +<P> +There was a dignity in that parting, for it was the burning of her +bridges behind her. When "King-Maker" Richard of Warwick, betrayed and +beaten on the field, came to his last stand by the forest, he +dismounted and stabbed his favorite charger. Very different was this +wild mountain girl from the armored earl who put kings up and pulled +them down again at pleasure, but her heart swelled as great as the +heart of famous Warwick; he gave up a kingdom, and she gave up her love. +</P> + +<P> +When she drew back the horse followed her a pace, but she raised a +silent hand in the night and halted him; a moment later she was lost +among the boulders. +</P> + +<P> +It was rather slow work to stalk that camp-fire, for the big boulders +cut off the sight of the red eye time and again, and she had to make +little, cautious detours before she found it again, but she kept +steadily at her work. Once she stopped, her blood running cold, for +she thought that she heard a faint voice blown up the cańon on the +wind: "McGurk!" +</P> + +<P> +For half a minute she stood frozen, listening, but the sound was not +repeated, and she went on again with greater haste. So she came at +last in view of a hollow in the side of the gorge. Here there were a +few trees, growing in the cove, and here, she knew, there was a small +spring of clear water. Many a time she had made a cup of her hands and +drunk here. +</P> + +<P> +Now she made out the fire clearly, the trees throwing out great spokes +of shadow on all sides, spokes of shadows that wavered and shook with +the flare of the small fire beyond them. She dropped to her hands and +knees and, parting the dense underbrush, began the last stealthy +approach. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap36"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXVI +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A VOICE IN THE NIGHT +</H3> + + +<P> +Up the same course which Jacqueline followed, Mary Brown had fled +earlier that night with the triumphant laughter of Jack still ringing +in her ears and following her like a remorseless, pointed hand of shame. +</P> + +<P> +There is no power like shame to disarm the spirit. A dog will fight if +a man laughs at him; a coward will challenge the devil himself if he is +whipped on by scorn; and this proud girl shrank and moaned on the +saddle. She had not progressed far enough to hate Pierre. That would +come later, but now all her heart had room for was a consuming loathing +of herself. +</P> + +<P> +Some of that torture went into the spurs with which she punished the +side of the bay, and the tall horse responded with a high-tossed head +and a burst of whirlwind speed. The result was finally a stumble over +a loose rock that almost flung Mary over the pommel of the saddle and +forced her to draw rein. +</P> + +<P> +Having slowed the pace she became aware that she was very tired from +the trip of the day, and utterly exhausted by the wild scene with +Jacqueline, so that she began to look about for a place where she could +stop for even an hour or so and rest her aching body. +</P> + +<P> +Thought of McGurk sent her hand trembling to her holster. Still she +knew she must have little to fear from him. He had been kind to her. +Why had this scourge of the mountain-desert spared her? Was it to +track down Pierre? +</P> + +<P> +It was at this time that she heard the purl and whisper of running +water, a sound dear to the hearts of all travelers. She veered to the +left and found the little grove of trees with a thick shrubbery growing +between, fed by the water of that diminutive brook. She dismounted and +tethered the horses. +</P> + +<P> +By this time she had seen enough of camping out to know how to make +herself fairly comfortable, and she set about it methodically, eagerly. +It was something to occupy her mind and keep out a little of that +burning sense of shame. One picture it could not obliterate, and that +was the scene of Jacqueline and Pierre le Rouge laughing together over +the love affair with the silly girl of the yellow hair. +</P> + +<P> +That was the meaning, then, of those silences that had come between +them? He had been thinking, remembering, careful lest he should forget +a single scruple of the whole ludicrous affair. She shuddered, +remembering how she had fairly flung herself into his arms. +</P> + +<P> +On that she brooded, after starting the little fire. It was not that +she was cold, but the fire, at least, in the heart of the black night, +was a friend incapable of human treachery. She had not been there long +when the tall bay, Wilbur's horse, stiffened, raised his head, arched +his tail, and then whinnied. +</P> + +<P> +She started to her feet, stirred by a thousand fears, and heard, far +away, an answering neigh. At once all thought of shame and of Pierre +le Rouge vanished from her mind, for she remembered the man who had +followed her up the valley of the Old Crow. Perhaps he was coming now +out of the night; perhaps she would even see him. +</P> + +<P> +And the excitement grew in her pulse by pulse, as the excitement grows +in a man waiting for a friend at a station; he sees first the faint +smoke like a cloud on the skyline, and then a black speck beneath the +smoke, and next the engine draws up on him with a humming of the rails +which grows at length to a thunder. +</P> + +<P> +All the while his heart beats faster and faster and rocks with the sway +of the approaching engine; so the heart of Mary Brown beat, though she +could not see, but only felt the coming of the stranger. +</P> + +<P> +The only sign she saw was in the horses, which showed an increasing +uneasiness. Her own mare now shared the restlessness of the tall bay, +and the two were footing it nervously here and there, tugging at the +tethers, and tossing up their heads, with many a start, as if they +feared and sought to flee from some approaching catastrophe—some vast +and preternatural change—some forest fire which came galloping faster +than even their fleet limbs could carry them. +</P> + +<P> +Yet all beyond the pale of her campfire's light was silence, utter and +complete silence. It seemed as if a veritable muscular energy went +into the intensity of her listening, but not a sound reached her except +a faint whispering of the wind in the dark trees above her. +</P> + +<P> +But at last she knew that the thing was upon her. The horses ceased +their prancing and stared in a fixed direction through the thicket of +shrubbery; the very wind grew hushed above her; she could feel the new +presence as one feels the silence when a door closes and shuts away the +sound of the street below. +</P> + +<P> +It came on her with a shock, thrilling, terrible, yet not altogether +unpleasant. She rose, her hands clenched at her sides and the great +blue eyes abnormally wide as they stared in the same direction as the +eyes of the two horses held. Yet for all her preparation she nearly +fainted and a blackness came across her mind when a voice sounded +directly behind her, a pleasantly modulated voice: "Look this way. I +am here, in front of the fire." +</P> + +<P> +She turned about and the two horses, quivering, whirled toward that +sound. +</P> + +<P> +She stepped back, back until the embers of the fire lay between her and +that side of the little clearing. In spite of herself the exclamation +escaped her.—"McGurk!" +</P> + +<P> +The voice spoke again: "Do not be afraid. You are safe, absolutely." +</P> + +<P> +"What are you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Your friend." +</P> + +<P> +"Is it you who followed me up the valley?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Come into the light. I must see you." A faint laughter reached her +from the dark. +</P> + +<P> +"I cannot let you do that. If that had been possible I should have +come to you before." +</P> + +<P> +"But I feel—I feel almost, as if you are a ghost and no man of flesh +and blood." +</P> + +<P> +"It is better for you to feel that way about it," said the voice +solemnly, "than to know me." +</P> + +<P> +"At least, tell me why you have followed me, why you have cared for me." +</P> + +<P> +"You will hate me if I tell you, and fear me." +</P> + +<P> +"No, whatever you are, trust me. Tell me at least what came to Dick +Wilbur?" +</P> + +<P> +"That's easy enough. I met him at the river, a little by surprise, and +caught him before he could even shout. Then I took his guns and let +him go." +</P> + +<P> +"But he didn't come back to me?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. He knew that I would be there. I might have finished him without +giving him a chance to speak, girl, but I'd seen him with you and I was +curious. So I found out where you were going and why, and let Wilbur +go. I came back and looked at you and found you asleep." +</P> + +<P> +She grew cold at the thought of him leaning over her. +</P> + +<P> +"I watched you a long time, and I suppose I'll remember you always as I +saw you then. You were very beautiful with the shadow of the lashes +against your cheek—almost as beautiful as you are now as you stand +over there, fearing and loathing me. I dared not let you see me, but I +decided to take care of you—for a while." +</P> + +<P> +"And now?" +</P> + +<P> +"I have come to say farewell to you." +</P> + +<P> +"Let me see you once before you go." +</P> + +<P> +"No! You see, I fear you even more than you fear me." +</P> + +<P> +"Then I'll follow you." +</P> + +<P> +"It would be useless—utterly useless. There are ways of becoming +invisible in the mountains. But before I go, tell me one thing: Have +you left the cabin to search for Pierre le Rouge in another place?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. I do not search for him." +</P> + +<P> +There was an instant of pause. Then the voice said sharply: "Did +Wilbur lie to me?" +</P> + +<P> +"No. I started up the valley to find him." +</P> + +<P> +"But you've given him up?" +</P> + +<P> +"I hate him—I hate him as much as I loathe myself for ever +condescending to follow him." +</P> + +<P> +She heard a quick breath drawn in the dark, and then a murmur; "I am +free, then, to hunt him down!" +</P> + +<P> +"Why?" +</P> + +<P> +"Listen: I had given him up for your sake; I gave him up when I stood +beside you that first night and watched you trembling with the cold in +your sleep. It was a weak thing for me to do, but since I saw you, +Mary, I am not as strong as I once was." +</P> + +<P> +"Now you go back on his trail? It is death for Pierre?" +</P> + +<P> +"You say you hate him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, but as deeply as that?" she questioned herself. +</P> + +<P> +"It may not be death for Pierre. I have ridden the ranges many years +and met them all in time, but never one like him. Listen: six years +ago I met him first and then he wounded me—the first time any man has +touched me. And afterward I was afraid, Mary, for the first time in my +life, for the charm was broken. For six years I could not return, but +now I am at his heels. Six are gone; he will be the last to go." +</P> + +<P> +"What are you?" she cried. "Some bloodhound reincarnated?" +</P> + +<P> +He said: "That is the mildest name I have ever been called." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap37"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXVII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +A MAN'S DEATH +</H3> + + +<P> +"Give up the trail of Pierre." +</P> + +<P> +And there, brought face to face with the mortal question, even her fear +burned low in her, and once more she remembered the youth who would not +leave her in the snow, but held her in his arms with the strange cross +above them. +</P> + +<P> +She said simply: "I still love him." +</P> + +<P> +A faint glimmer came to her through the dark and she could see deeper +into the shrubbery, for now the moon stood up on the top of the great +peak above them and flung a faint radiance into the hollow. That +glimmer she saw, but no face of a man. +</P> + +<P> +And then the silence held; every second of it was more than a hundred +spoken words. +</P> + +<P> +Then the calm voice said: "I cannot give him up." +</P> + +<P> +"For the sake of God!" +</P> + +<P> +"God and I have been strangers for a good many years." +</P> + +<P> +"For my sake." +</P> + +<P> +"But you see, I have been lying to myself. I told myself that I was +coming merely to see you once—for the last time. But after I saw you +I had to speak, and now that I have spoken it is hard to leave you, and +now that I am with you I cannot give you up to Pierre le Rouge." +</P> + +<P> +She cried: "What will you have of me?" +</P> + +<P> +He answered with a ring of melancholy: "Friendship? No, I can't take +those white hands—mine are so red. All I can do is to lurk about you +like a shadow—a shadow with a sting that strikes down all other men +who come near you." +</P> + +<P> +She said: "For all men have told me about you, I know you could not do +that." +</P> + +<P> +"Mary, I tell you there are things about me, and possibilities, about +which I don't dare to question myself." +</P> + +<P> +"You have guarded me like a brother. Be one to me still; I have never +needed one so deeply!" +</P> + +<P> +"A brother? Mary, if your eyes were less blue or your hair less golden +I might be; but you are too beautiful to be only that to me." +</P> + +<P> +"Listen to me—" +</P> + +<P> +But she stopped in the midst of her speech, because a white head loomed +beside the dim form. It was the head of a horse, with pricking ears, +which now nosed the shoulder of its master, and she saw the firelight +glimmering in the great eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Your horse," she said in a trembling voice, "loves you and trusts you." +</P> + +<P> +"It is the only thing which has not feared me. When it was a colt it +came out of the herd and nosed my hand. It is the only thing which has +not fought me, as all men have done—as you are doing now, Mary." +</P> + +<P> +The wind that blew up the gorge came in gusts, not any steady current, +but fitful rushes of air, and on one of these brief blasts it seemed to +Mary that she caught the sound of a voice blown to whistling murmur. +It was a vague thing of which she could not be sure, as faint as a +thought. Yet the head of the white horse disappeared, and the glimmer +of the man's face went out. +</P> + +<P> +She called: "Whatever you are, wait! Let me speak!" +</P> + +<P> +But no answer came, and she knew that the form was gone forever. +</P> + +<P> +She cried again: "Who's there?" +</P> + +<P> +"It is I," said a voice at her elbow, and she turned to look into the +dark eyes of Jacqueline. +</P> + +<P> +"So he's gone?" asked Jack bitterly. +</P> + +<P> +She fingered the butt of her gun. +</P> + +<P> +"I thought—well, my chance at him is gone." +</P> + +<P> +"But what—" +</P> + +<P> +"Bah, if you knew you'd die of fear. Listen to what I have to say. +All the things I told you in the cabin were lies." +</P> + +<P> +"Lies?" said Mary evenly. "No, they proved themselves." +</P> + +<P> +"Be still till I've finished, because if you talk you may make me +forget—" +</P> + +<P> +The gesture which finished the sentence was so eloquent of hate that +Mary shrank away and put the embers of the fire between them. +</P> + +<P> +"I tell you, it was all a lie, and Pierre le Rouge has never loved +anything but you, you milk-faced, yellow-livered—" +</P> + +<P> +She stopped again, fighting against her passion. +</P> + +<P> +The pride of Mary held her stiff and straight, though her voice shook. +</P> + +<P> +"Has he sent you after me with mockery?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, he's given up the hope of you." +</P> + +<P> +"The hope?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you see? Are you going to make me crawl to explain? It always +seemed to me that God meant Pierre for me. It always seemed to me that +a girl like me was what he needed. But Pierre had never seen it. +Maybe, if my hair was yellow an' my eyes blue, he might have felt +different; but the way it is, he's always treated me like a kid +brother—" +</P> + +<P> +"And lived with you?" said the other sternly. +</P> + +<P> +"Like two men! D'you understand how a woman could be the bunky of a +man an' yet be no more to him than—than a man would be. You don't? +Neither do I, but that's what I've been to Pierre le Rouge. What's +that?" +</P> + +<P> +She lifted her head and stood poised as if for flight. Once more the +vague sound blew up to them upon the wind. Mary ran to her and grasped +both of her hands in her own. +</P> + +<P> +"If it's true—" +</P> + +<P> +But Jack snatched her hands away and looked on the other with a mighty +hatred and a mightier contempt. +</P> + +<P> +"True? Why, it damn near finishes Pierre with me to think he'd take up +with—a thing like you. But it's true. If somebody else had told me +I'd of laughed at 'em. But it's true. Tell me: what'll you do with +him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Take him back—if I can reach him—take him back to the East and to +God's country." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes—maybe he'd be happy there. But when the spring comes to the +city, Mary, wait till the wind blows in the night and the rain comes +tappin' on the roof. Then hold him if you can. D'ye hear? Hold him +if you can!" +</P> + +<P> +"If he cares it will not be hard. Tell me again, if—" +</P> + +<P> +"Shut up. What's that again?" +</P> + +<P> +The sound was closer now and unmistakably something other than the moan +of the wind. Jacqueline turned in great excitement to Mary: +</P> + +<P> +"Did McGurk hear that sound down the gorge?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes. I think so. And then he—" +</P> + +<P> +"My God!" +</P> + +<P> +"What is it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Pierre, and he's calling for—d'you hear?" +</P> + +<P> +Clear and loud, though from a great distance, the wind carried up the +sound and the echo preserved it: "McGurk!" +</P> + +<P> +"McGurk!" repeated Mary. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes! And you brought him up here with you, and brought his death to +Pierre. What'll you do to save him now? Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +She turned and fled out among the trees, and after her ran Mary, +calling, like the other: "Pierre!" +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap38"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXVIII +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE WAITING +</H3> + + +<P> +After that call first reached him, clear to his ears though vague as a +murmur at the ear of Mary, McGurk swung to the saddle of his white +horse, and galloped down the gorge like a veritable angel of death. +</P> + +<P> +The end was very near, he felt, yet the chances were at least ten to +one that he would miss Pierre in the throat of the gorge, for among the +great boulders, tall as houses, which littered it, a thousand men might +have passed and repassed and never seen each other. Only the calling +of Pierre could guide him surely. +</P> + +<P> +The calling had ceased for some moments, and he began to fear that he +had overrun his mark and missed Pierre in the heart of the pass, when, +as he rounded a mighty boulder, the shout ran ringing in his very ears: +"McGurk!" and a horseman swung into view. +</P> + +<P> +"Here!" he called in answer, and stood with his right hand lifted, +bringing his horse to a sharp halt, like some ancient cavalier stopping +in the middle of the battle to exchange greetings with a friendly foe. +</P> + +<P> +The other rider whirled alongside, his sombrero's brim flaring back +from his forehead, so that McGurk caught the glare of the eyes beneath +the shadow. +</P> + +<P> +"So for the third time, my friend—" said McGurk. +</P> + +<P> +"Which is the fatal one," answered Pierre. "How will you die, McGurk? +On foot or on horseback?" +</P> + +<P> +"On the ground, Pierre, for my horse might stir and make my work messy. +I love a neat job, you know." +</P> + +<P> +"Good." +</P> + +<P> +They swung from the saddles and stood facing each other. +</P> + +<P> +"Begin!" commanded McGurk. "I've no time to waste." +</P> + +<P> +"I've very little time to look at the living McGurk. Let me look my +fill before the end." +</P> + +<P> +"Then look, and be done. I've a lady coming to meet me." +</P> + +<P> +The other grew marvelously calm. +</P> + +<P> +"She is with you, McGurk?" +</P> + +<P> +"My dear Pierre, I've been with her ever since she started up the Old +Crow." +</P> + +<P> +"It will be easier to forget her. Are you ready?" +</P> + +<P> +"So soon? Come, man, there's much for us to say. Many old times to +chat over." +</P> + +<P> +"I only wonder," said Pierre, "how one death can pay back what you've +done. Think of it! I've actually run away from you and hidden myself +away among the hills. I've feared you, McGurk!" +</P> + +<P> +He said it with a deep astonishment, as a grown man will speak of the +way he feared darkness when he was a child. McGurk moistened his white +lips. The white horse pawed the rocks as though impatient to be gone. +</P> + +<P> +"Listen," said Pierre, "your horse grows restive. Suppose we stand +here—it's a convenient distance apart, you see, and wait with our arms +folded for the next time the white horse paws the rocks, because when I +kill you, McGurk, I want you to die knowing that another man was faster +on the draw and straighter with his bullets than you are. D'you see?" +</P> + +<P> +He could not have spoken with a more formal politeness if he had been +asking the other to pass first through the door of a dining-room. The +wonder of McGurk grew and the sweat on his forehead seemed to be +spreading a chill through his entire body. +</P> + +<P> +He said: "I see. You trust all to the cross, eh, Pierre? The little +cross under your neck?" +</P> + +<P> +"The cross is gone," said Pierre le Rouge. "Why should I use it +against a night rider, McGurk? Are you ready?" +</P> + +<P> +And McGurk, not trusting his voice for some strange reason, nodded. +The two folded their arms. +</P> + +<P> +But the white horse which had been pawing the stones so eagerly a +moment before was now unusually quiet. The very postures of the men +seemed to have frozen him to stone, a beautiful, marble statue, with +the moonlight glistening on the muscles of his perfect shoulders. +</P> + +<P> +At length he stirred. At once a quiver jerked through the tense bodies +of the waiting men, but the white horse had merely stiffened and raised +his head high. Now, with arched neck and flaunting tail he neighed +loudly, as if he asked a question. How could he know, dumb brute, that +what he asked only death could answer? +</P> + +<P> +And as they waited an itching came at the palm of McGurk's hand. It +was not much, just a tingle of the blood. To ease it, he closed his +fingers and found that his hand was moist with cold perspiration. +</P> + +<P> +He began to wonder if his fingers would be slippery on the butt of the +gun. Then he tried covertly to dry them against his shirt. But he +ceased this again, knowing that he must be of hair-trigger alertness to +watch for the stamp of the white horse. +</P> + +<P> +It occurred to him, also, that he was standing on a loose stone which +might wabble when he pulled his gun, and he cursed himself silently for +his hasty folly. Pierre, doubtless, had noticed that stone, and +therefore he had made the suggestion that they stand where they were. +Otherwise, how could there be that singular calm in the steady eyes +which looked across at him? +</P> + +<P> +Also, how explain the hunger of that stare? Was not he McGurk, and was +not this a man whom he had already once shot down? God, what a fool he +had been not to linger an instant longer in that saloon in the old days +and place the final shot in the prostrate body! In all his life he had +made only one such mistake, and now that folly was pursuing him. And +now— +</P> + +<P> +The foot of the white horse lifted—struck the rock. The sound of its +fall was lost in the explosion of two guns, and a ring of metal on +metal. The revolver snapped from the hand of McGurk, whirled in a +flashing circle, and clanged on the rocks at his feet. The bullet of +Pierre had struck the barrel and knocked it cleanly from his hand. +</P> + +<P> +It was luck, only luck, that placed that shot, and his own bullet, +which had started first, had travelled wild for there stood Pierre le +Rouge, smiling faintly, alert, calm. For the first time in his life +McGurk had missed. He set his teeth and waited for death. +</P> + +<P> +But that steady voice of Pierre said: "To shoot you would be a +pleasure; it would even be a luxury, but there wouldn't be any lasting +satisfaction in it. So there lies your gun at your feet. Well, here +lies mine." +</P> + +<P> +He dropped his own weapon to a position corresponding with that of +McGurk's. +</P> + +<P> +"We were both very wild that time. We must do better now. We'll stoop +for our guns, McGurk. The signal? No, we won't wait for the horse to +stamp. The signal will be when you stoop for your gun. You shall have +every advantage, you see? Start for that gun, McGurk, when you're +ready for the end." +</P> + +<P> +The hand of McGurk stretched out and his arm stiffened but it seemed as +though all the muscles of his back had grown stiff. He could not bend. +It was strange. It was both ludicrous and incomprehensible. Perhaps +he had grown stiff with cold in that position. +</P> + +<P> +But he heard the voice of Pierre explaining gently: "You can't move, my +friend. I understand. It's fear that stiffened your back. It's fear +that sends the chill up and down your blood. It's fear that makes you +think back to your murders, one by one. McGurk, you're done for. +You're through. You're ready for the discard. I'm not going to kill +you. I've thought of a finer hell than death, and that is to live as +you shall live. I've beaten you, McGurk, beaten you fairly on the +draw, and I've broken your heart by doing it. The next time you face a +man you'll begin to think—you'll begin to remember how one other man +beat you at the draw. And that wonder, McGurk, will make your hand +freeze to your side, as you've made the hands of other men before me +freeze. D'you understand?" +</P> + +<P> +The lips of McGurk parted. The whisper of his dry panting reached +Pierre, and the devil in him smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"In six weeks, McGurk, you'll take water from a Chinaman. Now get out!" +</P> + +<P> +And pace by pace McGurk drew back, with his face still toward Pierre. +</P> + +<P> +The latter cried: "Wait. Are you going to leave your gun?" +</P> + +<P> +Only the steady retreat continued. +</P> + +<P> +"And go unarmed through the mountains? What will men say when they see +McGurk with an empty holster?" +</P> + +<P> +But the outlaw had passed out of view beyond the corner of one of the +monster boulders. After him went the white horse, slowly, picking his +steps, as if he were treading on dangerous and unknown ground and would +not trust his leader. Pierre was left to the loneliness of the gorge. +</P> + +<P> +The moonlight only served to make more visible its rocky nakedness, and +like that nakedness was the life of Pierre under his hopeless inward +eye. Over him loomed from either side the gleaming pinnacles of the +Twin Bears, and he remembered many a time when he had looked up toward +them from the crests of lesser mountains—looked up toward them as a +man looks to a great and unattainable ideal. +</P> + +<P> +Here he was come to the crest of all the ranges; here he was come to +the height and limit of his life, and what had he attained? Only a +cruel, cold isolation. It had been a steep ascent; the declivity of +the farther side led him down to a steep and certain ruin and the dark +night below. But he stiffened suddenly and threw his head high as if +he faced his fate; and behind him the cream-colored mare raised her +head with a toss and whinnied softly. +</P> + +<P> +It seemed to him that he had heard something calling, for the sound was +lost against the sweep of wind coming up the gorge. Something calling +there in the night of the mountains as he himself had called when he +rode so wildly in the quest for McGurk. How long ago had that been? +</P> + +<P> +But it came once more, clear beyond all doubt. He recognized the voice +in spite of the panting which shook it; a wild wail like that of a +heart-broken child, coming closer to him like some one, running: +"Pierre! Oh, Pierre!" +</P> + +<P> +And all at once he knew that the moon was broad and bright and fair, +and the heavens clear and shining with golden points of light. Once +more the cry. He raised his arms and waited. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap39"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +CHAPTER XXXIX +</H3> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +THE CROSS GOES ON +</H3> + + +<P> +So Mary, running through the wilderness of boulders, was guided +straight and found Pierre, and before the morning came, they were +journeying east side by side, east and down to the cities of culture +and a new life; but Jacqueline, a thousand times quicker of foot and +surer of eye and ear, missed her goal, went past it, and still on and +on, running finally at a steady trot. +</P> + +<P> +Until at last she knew that she had far overstepped her mark and sank +down against one of the rocks to rest and think out what next she must +do. There seemed nothing left. Even the sound of a gun fired she +might not hear, for that sharp call would not travel far against the +wind. +</P> + +<P> +It was while she sat there, burying Pierre in her thoughts, a white +shape came glimmering down to her through the moonlight. She was on +her feet at once, alert and gun in hand. It could only be one horse, +only one rider, McGurk coming down from his last killing with the sneer +on his pale lips. Well, he would complete his work this night and kill +her fighting face to face. +</P> + +<P> +A man's death; that was all she craved. She rose; she stepped boldly +out into the center of the trail between the rocks. +</P> + +<P> +There she saw the greatest wonder she had ever looked on. It was +McGurk walking with bare, bowed head, and after him, like a dog after +the master, followed the white horse. She shoved the revolver back +into the holster. This should be a fair fight. +</P> + +<P> +"McGurk!" +</P> + +<P> +Very slowly the head went up and back, and there he stood, not ten +paces from her, with the white moon full on his face. The sneer was +still there; the eyelid fluttered in scornful derision. And the heart +of Jacqueline came thundering in her throat. +</P> + +<P> +But she cried in a strong voice: "McGurk, d'you know me?" +</P> + +<P> +He did not answer. +</P> + +<P> +"You murderer, you night-rider! Look again: it's the last of the +Boones!" +</P> + +<P> +The sneer, it seemed to her, grew bitterer, but still the man did not +speak. Then the thought of Pierre, lying dead somewhere among the +rocks, burned across her mind. Her hand leaped for the revolver, and +whipped it out in a blinding flash to cover him, but with her finger +curling on the trigger she checked herself in the nick of time. McGurk +had made no move to protect himself. +</P> + +<P> +A strange feeling came to her that perhaps the man would not war +against women; the case of Mary was almost proof enough of that. But +as she stepped forward, wondering, she looked at the holster at his +side and saw that it was empty. Then she understood. +</P> + +<P> +Understood in a daze that Pierre had met the man and conquered him and +sent him out through the mountains disarmed. The white horse raised +his head and whinnied, and the sound gave a thought to her. She could +not kill this man, unarmed as he was; she could do a more shameful +thing. +</P> + +<P> +"The bluff you ran was a strong one, McGurk," she said bitterly, "and +you had these parts pretty well at a standstill; but Pierre was a bit +too much for you, eh?" +</P> + +<P> +The white face had not altered, and still it did not change, but the +sneer was turned steadily on her. +</P> + +<P> +She cried: "Go on! Go on down the gorge!" +</P> + +<P> +Like an automaton the man stepped forward, and after him paced the +white horse. She stepped between, caught the reins, and swung up to +the saddle, and sat there, controlling between her stirrups the +best-known mount in all the mountain-desert. A thrill of wild +exultation came to her. She cried: "Look back, McGurk! Your gun is +gone, your horse is gone; you're weaker than a woman in the mountains!" +</P> + +<P> +Yet he went on without turning, not with the hurried step of a coward, +but still as one stunned. Then, sitting quietly in the saddle, she +forgot McGurk and remembered Pierre. He was happy by this time with +the girl of the yellow hair; there was nothing remaining to her from +him except the ominous cross which touched cold against her breast. +That he had abandoned as he had abandoned her. +</P> + +<P> +What, then, was left for her? The horse of an outlaw for her to ride; +the heart of an outlaw in her breast. +</P> + +<P> +She touched the white horse with the spurs and went at a reckless +gallop, weaving back and forth among the boulders down the gorge. For +she was riding away from the past. +</P> + +<P> +The dawn came as she trotted out into a widening valley of the Old +Crow. To maintain even that pace she had to use the spurs continually, +for the white horse was deadly weary, and his head fell more and more. +She decided to make a brief halt, at last, and in order to make a fire +that would take the chill of the cold morning from her, she swung up to +the edge of the woods. There, before she could dismount, she saw a man +turn the shoulder of the slope. She drew the horse back deeper among +the trees and waited. +</P> + +<P> +He came with a halting step, reeling now and again, a big man, hatless, +coatless, apparently at the last verge of exhaustion. Now his foot +apparently struck a small rock, and he pitched to his face. It +required a long struggle before he could regain his feet; and now he +continued his journey at the same gait, only more uncertainly than +ever, close and closer. There was something familiar now about the +fellow's size, and something in the turn of his head. Suddenly she +rode out, crying: "Wilbur!" +</P> + +<P> +He swerved, saw the white horse, threw up his hands high above his +head, and went backward, reeling, with a hoarse scream which Jacqueline +would never forget. She galloped to him and swung to the ground. +</P> + +<P> +"It's me—Jack. D'you hear?" +</P> + +<P> +He would not lower those arms, and his eyes stared wildly at her. On +his forehead the blood had caked over a cut; his shirt was torn to +rags, and the hair matted wildly over his eyes. She caught his hands +and pulled them down. +</P> + +<P> +"It's not McGurk! Don't you hear me? It's Jack!" +</P> + +<P> +He reached out, like a blind man who has to see by the sense of touch, +and stroked her face. +</P> + +<P> +"Jack!" he whispered at last. "Thank God!" +</P> + +<P> +"What's happened?" +</P> + +<P> +"McGurk—" +</P> + +<P> +A violent palsy shook him, and he could not go on. +</P> + +<P> +"I know—I understand. He took your guns and left you to wander in +this hell! Damn him! I wish—" +</P> + +<P> +She stopped. +</P> + +<P> +"How long since you've eaten?" +</P> + +<P> +"Years!" +</P> + +<P> +"We'll eat—McGurk's food!" +</P> + +<P> +But she had to assist him up the slope to the trees, and there she left +him propped against a trunk, his arms fallen weakly at his sides, while +she built the fire and cooked the food. Afterward she could hardly +eat, watching him devour what she placed before him; and it thrilled +all the woman in her to a strange warmth to take care of the +long-rider. Then, except for the disfigured face and the bloodshot +eyes, he was himself. +</P> + +<P> +"Up there? What happened?" +</P> + +<P> +He pointed up the valley. +</P> + +<P> +"The girl and Pierre. They're together." +</P> + +<P> +"She found him?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +He bowed his head and sighed. +</P> + +<P> +"And the horse, Jack?" He said it with awe. +</P> + +<P> +"I took the horse from McGurk." +</P> + +<P> +"You!" +</P> + +<P> +She nodded. After all, it was not a lie. +</P> + +<P> +"You killed McGurk?" +</P> + +<P> +She said coolly: "I let him go the way he let you, Dick. He's on foot +in the mountains without a horse or a gun." +</P> + +<P> +"It isn't possible!" +</P> + +<P> +"There the horse for proof." +</P> + +<P> +He looked at her as if she were something more than human. +</P> + +<P> +"Our Jack—did this?" +</P> + +<P> +"We've got to start on. Can you walk, Dick?" +</P> + +<P> +"A thousand miles now." +</P> + +<P> +Yet he staggered when he tried to rise, and she made him climb up to +the saddle. The white horse walked on, and she kept her place close at +the stirrup of the rider. He would have stopped and dismounted for her +a hundred times, but she made him keep his place. +</P> + +<P> +"What's ahead of us, Jack? We're the last of the gang?" +</P> + +<P> +"The last of Boone's gang. We are." +</P> + +<P> +"The old life over again?" +</P> + +<P> +"What else?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; what else?" +</P> + +<P> +"Are you afraid, Dick?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not with you for a pal. Seven was too many; with two we can rule the +range." +</P> + +<P> +"Partners, Dick?" +</P> + +<P> +How could he tell that her voice was gone so gentle because she was +seeing in her mind's eye another face than his? He leaned toward her, +thrilling. +</P> + +<P> +"Why not something more than partners, after a while, Jack?" +</P> + +<P> +She smiled strangely up to him. +</P> + +<P> +"Because of this, Dick." +</P> + +<P> +And fumbling at her throat, she showed him the glittering metal of the +cross; an instinct made him swerve the horse away from her. +</P> + +<P> +"The cross goes on, but what of you Jack?" +</P> + +<P> +A long silence fell between them. Words died in the making. +</P> + +<P> +The great weight pressing down on that slender throat was like the iron +hand of a giant, but slowly one by one the sounds marshalled themselves: +</P> + +<P> +". . . God knows …" It was the passing of Judgment. "God +knows … not I." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> +<hr class="full" noshade> + +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RIDERS OF THE SILENCES***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 20044-h.txt or 20044-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/0/4/20044">http://www.gutenberg.org/2/0/0/4/20044</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution.</p> + + + +<pre> +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/license">http://www.gutenberg.org/license)</a>. + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS,' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org">http://www.gutenberg.org</a> + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/etext06/</a> + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL">http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/GUTINDEX.ALL</a> + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** +</pre> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/20044-h/images/img-front.jpg b/20044-h/images/img-front.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c168be5 --- /dev/null +++ b/20044-h/images/img-front.jpg diff --git a/20044.txt b/20044.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..71659e8 --- /dev/null +++ b/20044.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9836 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Riders of the Silences, by John Frederick, +Illustrated by Frank Tenney Johnson + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Riders of the Silences + + +Author: John Frederick + + + +Release Date: December 7, 2006 [eBook #20044] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RIDERS OF THE SILENCES*** + + +E-text prepared by Al Haines + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 20044-h.htm or 20044-h.zip: + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/0/4/20044/20044-h/20044-h.htm) + or + (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/0/4/20044/20044-h.zip) + + + + + +RIDERS OF THE SILENCES + +by + +JOHN FREDERICK + +With Frontispiece by Frank Tenney Johnson + + + + + + + +[Frontispiece: Each one of them should have ridden alone to be properly +appreciated. To see them together was like watching a flock of eagles.] + + + + +A. L. Burt Company +Publishers -------- New York +Published by arrangement with The H. K. Fly Company +Copyright, 1920, by +The H. K. Fly Company +Copyright, 1920, +The Munsey Co. + + + + +CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER + + I. The Thunderbolt + II. Irene + III. The Launching of The Bolt + IV. The Corner Plot + V. Hurley + VI. Fear + VII. The Voice in The Storm + VIII. Belief + IX. Riders of The Silences + X. The Guard + XI. Jack Grows Up + XII. The Burial + XIII. A Tale of The Sledge + XIV. McGurk + XV. Gold Hair + XVI. Ennui + XVII. Black Gandil + XVIII. Five Minutes' Silence + XIX. Partners + XX. Full Dress + XXI. The Dance + XXII. The Overtone + XXIII. The Fear of The Living + XXIV. The Luck of The Shipwrecked + XXV. Jacqueline Waits + XXVI. A Game of Suppose + XXVII. The Trail + XXVIII. A Hint of White + XXIX. Jack + XXX. The Whisper of The Knife + XXXI. Laughter + XXXII. A Tale of A Careless Man + XXXIII. A Count To Ten + XXXIV. Tiger-Heart + XXXV. Jack Hears a Small Voice + XXXVI. A Voice in The Night + XXXVII. A Man's Death + XXXVIII. The Waiting + XXXIX. The Cross Goes On + + + + +RIDERS OF THE SILENCES + + +CHAPTER I + +THE THUNDERBOLT + +It seemed that Father Anthony gathered all the warmth of the short +northern summer and kept it for winter use, for his good nature was an +actual physical force. From his ruddy face beamed such an ardent +kindliness that people literally reached out towards him as they might +extend their hands toward a comfortable fire. + +All the labors of his work as an Inspector of Jesuit institutions +across the length and breadth of Canada could not lessen the flame of +the good father's enthusiasm; his smile was as indefatigable as his +critical eyes. The one looked sharply into every corner of a room and +every nook and hidden cranny of thoughts and deeds; the other veiled +the criticism and soothed the wounds of vanity. + +On this day, however, the sharp eyes grew a little less keen and +somewhat wider, while that smile was fixed rather by habit than +inclination. In fact, his expression might be called a frozen +kindliness as he looked across the table to Father Victor. + +It required a most indomitable geniality, indeed, to outface the rigid +piety of Jean Paul Victor. His missionary work had carried him far +north, where the cold burns men thin. The eternal frost of the Arctics +lay on his hair, and his starved eyes looked out from hollows shadowed +with blue. He might have posed for a painting of one of those damned +souls whom Dante placed in the frozen circle of the "Inferno." + +It was his own spirit which tortured him--the zeal which drove him +north and north and north over untracked regions, drove him until his +body failed, drove him even now, though his body was crippled. + +A mighty yearning, and a still mightier self-contempt whipped him on, +and the school over which he was master groaned and suffered under his +regime, and the disciples caught his spirit and went out like warriors +in the name of God to spread the faith. + +He despised them as he despised himself, for he said continually in his +heart: "How great is the purpose and how little is our labor!" + +Some such thought as that curled his thin lip as he stared across at +Father Anthony like a wolf that has not eaten for a fortnight. The +good father sustained the gaze, but he shivered a little and sighed. +There was awe, and pity, and even a touch of horror in his eyes. + +He said gently: "Are there none among all your lads, dear Father +Victor, whom you find something more than imperfect machines?" + +The man of the north drew from a pocket of his robe a letter. His +marvelously lean fingers touched it almost with a caress, and when he +spoke the softening which could not appear in the rigid features came +into his voice and made it lower and deeper. + +"One." + +Father Anthony started in astonishment, as one might start to hear a +divine prophet admit a mistake, but being wise he remained silent, +waiting. Jean Paul Victor peered into space. + +"Pierre Ryder. He is like a pleasant summer, and I"--he clasped his +colorless hands--"am frozen--frozen to the heart." + +Still Father Anthony waited, but his eyes were like diamonds for +brightness. + +"He shall carry on my mission in the north. I, who am silent, have +done much; but Pierre sings, and he will do more. I had to fight my +first battle to conquer my own stubborn soul, and the battle left me +weak for the great work in the snows, but Pierre will not fight that +battle, for I have trained him." + +He repeated after a pause: "For those who sing forget themselves and +their weariness. I, Jean Paul Victor, have never sung." + +He bowed his head, submitting to the judgment of God. + +"This letter is for him. Shall we not carry it to him? For two days I +have not seen Pierre." + +Father Anthony winced. + +He said: "Do you deny yourself even the pleasure of the lad's company? +Alas, Father Victor, you forge your own spurs and goad yourself with +your own hands. What harm is there in being often with the lad?" + +The sneer returned to the lips of Jean Paul Victor. + +"The purpose would be lost--lost to my eyes and lost to his--the +purpose for which I have lived and for which he shall live--the purpose +to which you are dedicated, Gabrielle Antoine Anthony." + +He relented in his fierceness, and continued with the strange gentle +note in his voice: "Our love for the young, it is like a vine that +climbs through the branches of a strong tree. When the vine is young +it may be taken away in safety and both the tree and the vine will +live, but if it grows old it will kill the tree when the vine is torn +away. + +"I am the strong tree, and Pierre has grown into my heart. It is time +that he be torn away. He is almost ready. The work is prepared. He +must start forth." + +Even while he announced his purpose the sweat poured out on his +forehead. He rose and paced noiselessly up and down the bare room, his +black robe catching around the long, bony legs. Father Anthony drew a +great breath. At last Jean Paul Victor could speak again. + +"In all the history of our order, there is hardly one man who will go +out armed like Pierre Ryder. He is young, he is strong, he is +fearless, he is pure of heart and single of mind. He has never tasted +wine; he has never looked wrongly on a woman." + +"A prodigy--but it is your work." + +"Mine--all mine!" + +The whole soul of the man stood up in his eyes in a fierce triumph. + +"Hear how I worked. When I first saw him he was a child, a baby, but +he came to me and took one finger of my hand in his small fist and +looked up to me. Ah, Gabrielle the smile of an infant goes to the +heart swifter than the thrust of a knife! I looked down upon him and +thought many things, and I knew that I was chosen to teach the child. +There was a voice that spoke in me. You will smile, but even now I +think I can hear it." + +"I swear to you that I believe," said Father Anthony, and his voice +trembled. + +"Another man would have given Pierre a Bible and a Latin grammar and a +cell. I gave him the testament and the grammar; I gave him also the +wild north country to say his prayers in and patter his Latin. I +taught his mind, but I did not forget his body. + +"He is to go out among wild men. He must have strength of the spirit. +He must also have a strength of the body that they will understand and +respect. How else can he translate for them the truths of the Holy +Spirit? Every day of his life I have made him handle firearms. Other +men think, and aim, and fire; Pierre thinks and shoots, and has +forgotten how to miss. + +"He goes among wild men. These lessons must be learned. He is a +soldier of God. He can ride a horse standing; he can run a hundred +miles in a day behind a dog-team. He can wrestle and fight with his +hands, for I have brought skilled men to teach him. I have made him a +thunderbolt to hurl among the ignorant and the unenlightened; and this +is the hand which shall wield it. Ha!" + +A flash of cold fire came for a single instant in his eyes as he stood +with upturned face. He changed. + +"Yet he is gentle as a woman. He goes out through the villages and +comes back unharmed, and after him come letters from girls and old men +and dames. Even strong men come many miles to see him and they write +to him. He is known. It is now hardly a six month since he saved a +trapper from a bobcat and killed the animal with a knife." + +His heart failed him at the thought, and he murmured: "It must have +been my prayers which saved him from the teeth and the claws." + +Good Father Anthony rose. + +"You have described a young David. I am eager to see him. Let us go." + +"Wait. Before you go you must know that he does not suspect that he +differs from other youths. Women have looked lewdly upon him and +written him letters with singing words, but Pierre being of a simple +nature, he answers them briefly and commends them to God. In fact, the +flattery of women he does not understand, and the flattery of men he +thinks is mere kindliness. Are you prepared to meet him, father?" + +Father Anthony nodded, and the two went out together. The chill of the +open was hardly more than the bitter cold inside the building, but +there was a wind that drove the cold through the blood and bones of a +man. + +They staggered along against it until they came to a small outhouse, +long and low. On the sheltered side of it they paused to take breath, +and Feather Victor explained: "This is his hour in the gymnasium. To +make the body strong required thought and care. Mere riding and +running and swinging of the ax will not develop every muscle. So I +made this gymnasium, and here Pierre works every day. His teachers of +boxing and wrestling have abandoned him." + +There was almost a smile on the lean face. + +"The last man left with a swollen jaw and limping on one leg." + +Conscience-stricken, he stopped short, crossed himself, and then went +on: "So I give him for partners men who have committed small sins. +Their penance is to stand before Pierre and box each day for a few +minutes and then to wrestle against him. They are fierce men, these +woodsmen and trappers, and big of body; but little Pierre, they dread +him like a whip of fire. One and all, they come to me within a +fortnight and beg for an easier penance." + +Here he opened the door, and they slipped inside. The air was warmed +by a big stove, and the room--for the afternoon was dark--lighted by +two swinging lanterns suspended from the low roof. By that +illumination Father Anthony saw two men stripped naked, save for a +loin-cloth, and circling each other slowly in the center of a ring +which was fenced in with ropes and floored with a padded mat. +Certainly Father Victor had spared nothing in expense to make the +fittings of the gymnasium perfect. + +Of the two wrestlers, one was a veritable giant of a Canuck, swarthy of +skin, hairy-chested. His great hands were extended to grasp or to +parry--his head lowered with a ferocious scowl--and across his forehead +swayed a tuft of black, shaggy hair. He might have stood for one of +those northern barbarians whom the Romans loved to pit against their +native champions in the arena. He was the greater because of the +opponent he faced, and it was upon this opponent that the eyes of +Father Anthony centered. + +Like Father Victor, he was caught first by the bright hair. It was a +dark red, and where the light struck it strongly there were places like +fire. Down from this hair the light slipped like running water over a +lithe body, slender at the hips, strong-chested, round and smooth of +limb, with long muscles everywhere leaping and trembling at every move. + +He, like the big Canuck, circled cautiously about, but the impression +he gave was as different from the other as day is from night. His head +was carried high; in place of a scowl, he smiled with a sort of boyish +eagerness, and a light which was partly exultation and partly mischief +sparkled in his eyes. Once or twice the giant caught at the other, but +David slipped from under the grip of Goliath easily. It seemed as if +his skin were oiled. The big man snarled with anger, and lunged more +eagerly at Pierre. Father Anthony caught the shoulder of his friend. + +"Quick!" he whispered anxiously. "Stop them, for if the black fellow +sets his fingers on the boy he will break him like a willow wand, +and--in the name of God, Jean Paul!" + +For the two, abandoning their feints, suddenly rushed together, and the +swarthy arms of the monster slipped around the white body of Pierre. +For a moment they whirled, twisting and struggling. + +"Now!" murmured Father Victor; and as if in answer to a command, Pierre +slipped down, whipped his hands to a new grip, and the two crashed to +the mat, with Pierre above. + +"Open your eyes, Father Anthony. The lad is safe. How Goliath grunts!" + +The boy had not cared to follow his advantage, but rose and danced +away, laughing softly. The Canuck floundered up and rushed like a +furious bull. His downfall was only the swifter. The impact of the +two bodies sounded like hands clapped together, and then Goliath rose +into the air, struggling mightily, and pitched with a thud to the mat. + +He writhed there, for the wind was knocked from his body by the fall. +At length he struggled to a sitting posture and glared up at the +conqueror. The boy reached out a hand to his fallen foe. + +"You would have thrown me that way the first time," he said, "but you +let me change grips on you. In another week you will be too much for +me, _bon ami_." + +The other accepted the hand after an instant of hesitation and was +dragged to his feet. He stood resting one elbow on the gleaming +shoulder of Pierre and looking down into the boy's face with a singular +grin. But there was no triumph in the eye of Pierre--only a +good-natured interest. + +"In another week," answered the giant, "there will not be a sound bone +in my body. This very night I shall go to Father Victor. I had rather +starve for three days in the forest than stand up to you for three +minutes, little brother." + + + + +CHAPTER II + +IRENE + +"You have seen him," murmured the tall priest. "Now let us go back and +wait for him. I will leave word." + +He touched one of the two or three men who were watching the athletes, +and whispered his message in the other's ear. Then he went back with +Father Anthony. + +"You have seen him," he repeated, when they sat once more in the +cheerless room. "Now pronounce on him." + +The other answered: "I have seen a wonderful body--but the mind, Father +Victor?" + +"It is as simple as that of a child--his thoughts run as clear as +spring water." + +"Ah, but they are swift thoughts. Suppose the spring water gathers up +a few stones and rushes on down the side of the mountain. Very soon it +is wearing a deeper channel--then but a little space, and it is a +raging torrent and tears down great trees from its banks and goes +shouting and leaping out toward the sea. + +"Suppose a strange thought came in the mind of your Pierre. It would +be like the pebbles in the swift-running spring water. He would carry +it on, rushing. It would tear away the old boundaries of his mind--it +might wipe out the banks you have set down for him--it might tear away +the choicest teachings." + +Father Victor sat straight and stiff with stern, set lips. + +He said dryly: "Father Anthony has been much in the world." + +"I speak from the best intention, good father. Look you, now, I have +seen that same red hair and those same lighted blue eyes before, and +wherever I have seen them has been war and trouble and unrest. I have +seen that same whimsical smile which stirs the heart of a woman and +makes a man reach for his revolver. This boy whose mind is so +clear--arm him with a single wrong thought, with a single doubt of the +eternal goodness of God's plans, and he will be a thunderbolt indeed, +dear Father, but one which even your strong hand could not control." + +"I have heard you," said the priest; "but you will see. He is coming +now." + +There was a knock at the door; then it opened and showed a modest +novice in a simple gown of black serge girt at the waist with the flat +encircling band. His head was downward; it was not till the blue eyes +flashed inquisitively up that Father Anthony recognized Pierre. + +The hard voice of Jean Paul Victor pronounced: "This is that Father +Anthony of whom I have spoken." + +The novice slipped to his knees and folded his hands. The two priests +exchanged glances, one of triumph and one of wonder, while the plump +fingers of Father Anthony poised over that dark red hair, pressed +smooth on top where the skull-cap rested, and curling somewhat at the +sides. The blessing which he spoke was Latin, and Father Victor looked +somewhat anxiously toward his protege till the latter answered in a +diction so pure that Cicero himself would have smiled to hear it: + +"Father, I thank thee, and if my mind were as old as thine I might be +able to wish blessings as great as these in return." + +"Stand up!" cried Father Anthony. "By Heavens, Jean Paul, it is the +purest Latin I have heard this twelvemonth." + +And the lad answered: "It must be pure Latin; Father Victor has taught +me." + +Gabrielle Anthony stared, and to save him from too obvious confusion +the other priest interrupted: "I have a letter for you, my son." + +And he passed the envelope to Pierre. The latter examined it with +interest. + +"The writing sprawls like the knees of a boy of ten. What old man has +written to you, Pierre?" + +"No man that I know. This comes from the south. It is marked from the +United States." + +"So far!" exclaimed the tall priest. "Give me the letter, lad." + +But here he caught the whimsical eyes of Father Anthony, and he allowed +his outstretched hand to fall. Yet he scowled as he said: "No; keep it +and read it, Pierre." + +"I have no great wish to keep it," answered Pierre, studying anxiously +the dark brow of the priest. + +"It is yours. Open it and read." + +The lad obeyed instantly. He shook out the folded paper and moved a +little nearer the light. Then he read aloud, as if it had never +entered his mind that what was addressed to him might be meant for his +eyes alone. And as he read he reminded Father Anthony of some childish +chorister pronouncing words beyond his understanding. The tears came +to the eyes of the good father. + +And he said in his heart: "Alas! I have been too much in the world of +men, and now a child can teach me." + +The musical voice of the boy began: + + +"Morgantown, + "R. F. D. No. 4. + +"SON PIERRE: + +"Here I lie with a chunk of lead from the gun of Bob McGurk resting +somewheres in the insides of me, and there ain't no way of doubting +that I'm about to go out. Now, I ain't complaining none. I've had my +fling. I've eat my meat to order, well done and rare--mostly rare. +Maybe some folks will be saying that I've got what I've been asking +for, and I know that Bob McGurk got me fair and square, shooting from +the hip. That don't help me none, lying here with a through ticket to +some place that's farther south than Texas." + + +Pierre lowered the letter and looked gravely upon Father Victor. + +"There are blasphemies coming. Shall I read on?" + +"Yes." + +He began again, a little spot of red coming into either cheek: + + +"Hell ain't none too bad for me, I know. I ain't whining none. I just +lie here and watch the world getting dimmer until I begin to be seeing +things out of my past. That shows the devil ain't losing no time with +me. But the thing that comes back oftenest and hits me the hardest is +the sight of your mother, lying with you in the hollow of her arm and +looking up at me and whispering, 'Dad,' just before she went out." + + +The hand of the boy fell, and his wide eyes sought the face of Father +Victor. The latter was standing. + +"You told me I had no father--" + +An imperious arm stretched toward him. + +"Give me the letter." + +He moved to obey, and then checked himself. + +"This is my father's writing, is it not?" + +"No, no! It's a lie, Pierre!" + +But Pierre stood with the letter held behind his back, and the first +doubt in his life stood up darkly in his eyes. Father Victor sank +slowly back into his chair. All his gaunt frame was trembling. + +"Read on," he commanded. + +And Pierre, white of face, read on: + + +"So I got a idea that I had to write to you, Pierre. There ain't +nothing I can make up to you, but knowing the truth may help some. +Poor kid, you ain't got no father in the eyes of the law, and neither +did you have no mother, and there ain't no name that belongs to you by +rights." + + +Father Anthony veiled his eyes, but the bright starved eyes of Jean +Paul Victor stared on at the reader. His voice was lower now, and the +lips moved slowly, as though numb with cold: + + +I was a man in them days, and your mother was a woman that brought your +heart into your throat and set it singing. She and me, we were too +busy being just plain happy to care much what was right or wrong; so +you just sort of happened along, Pierre. Me being so close to hell, I +remember her eyes that was bluer than heaven looking up to me, and her +hair, that was copper with gold lights in it, ran down across the white +of her shoulder, and even past her side and around you, Pierre, till it +seemed like you was lying in a red river. She being about all in, she +got hold of my hand and looked up to me with them blue eyes I been +talking about, and said 'Dad,' and went out. And I damned near +followed her. + +"I buried Irene on the side of the mountain under a big, rough rock, +and I didn't carve nothing on the rock. Then I took you, Pierre, and I +knew I wasn't no sort of a man to raise up the son of Irene; so I +brought you to Father Victor on a winter night and left you in his +arms. That was after I'd done my best to raise you and you was just +about old enough to chatter a bit. There wasn't nothing else to do. +My wife, she went pretty near crazy when I brought you home. And she'd +of killed you, Pierre, if I hadn't took you away. + +"You see, I was married before I met Irene. So there ain't no alibi +for me. I just acted the hound. But me being so close to hell now, I +look back to that time, and somehow I see no wrong in it still. + +"And if I done wrong then, I've got my share of hell-fire for it. Here +I lie, with my boys, Bill and Bert, sitting around in the corner of the +room waiting for me to go out. They ain't men, Pierre. They're wolves +in the skins of men. They're the right sons of their mother. When I +go out they'll grab the coin I've saved up, and leave me to lie here +and rot, maybe. + +"Lad, it's a fearful thing to die without having no one around that +cares, and to know that even after I've gone out I'm going to lie here +and have my dead eyes looking up at the ceiling. So I'm writing to +you, Pierre, part to tell you what you ought to know; part because I +got a sort of crazy idea that maybe you could get down here to me +before I go out. + +"You don't owe me nothing but hard words, Pierre; but if you don't try +to come to me, the ghost of your mother will follow you all your life, +lad, and you'll be seeing her blue eyes and the red-gold of her hair in +the dark of the night as I see it now. Me, I'm a hard man, but it +breaks my heart, that ghost of Irene. So here I'll lie, waiting for +you, Pierre, and lingering out the days with whisky, and fighting the +wolf eyes of them there sons of mine. If I weaken--If they find they +can look me square in the eye--they'll finish me quick, and make off +with the coin. Pierre, come quick. + +"MARTIN RYDER." + + +The hand of Pierre dropped slowly to his side, and the letter fluttered +with a crisp rustling to the floor. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE LAUNCHING OF THE BOLT + +Then came a voice that startled the two priests, for it seemed that a +fourth man had entered the room, so changed was it from the musical +voice of Pierre. + +"Father Victor, the roan is a strong horse. May I take him?" + +"Pierre!" and the priest reached out his bony hands. + +But the boy did not seem to notice or to understand. + +"It is a long journey, and I will need a strong horse. It must be +eight hundred miles to that town." + +"Pierre, what claim has he upon you? What debt have you to repay?" + +And Pierre le Rouge answered: "He loved my mother." + +He raised his face a little higher and smiled upon them. + +"It is a beautiful name, is it not--Irene?" + +There was no voice from Jean Paul Victor, so he turned to Father +Anthony. + +"It is a charming name, Pierre." + +"I would give my revolver with the pearl handle, and my skates, and the +engraven knife of old Canole just for one glimpse of her." + +"You are going?" + +The boy asked in astonishment: "Would you not have me go, Father?" + +And Jean Paul Victor could not meet the sorrowful blue eyes. + +He bowed his head and answered: "My child, I would have you go. But +promise with your hand in mine that you will come back to me when your +father is buried." + +The lean fingers caught the extended hand of Pierre and froze about it. + +"But first I have a second duty in the southland." + +"A second?" + +"You taught me to shoot and to use a knife. Once you said: 'An eye for +an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.' Father Victor, my father was killed +by another man." + +"Pierre, dear lad, swear to me here on this cross that you will not +raise your hands against the murderer. 'Vengeance is mine, saith the +Lord.'" + +"He must have an instrument for his wrath. He shall work through me in +this." + +"Pierre, you blaspheme." + +"'An eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth.'" + +"It was a demon in me that quoted that in your hearing, and not myself." + +"The horse, Father Victor--may I have the roan?" + +"Pierre, I command you--" + +The light in the blue eyes was as cold and steady as that in the +starved eyes of Jean Paul Victor. + +"Hush!" he said calmly. "For the sake of the love that I bear for you, +do not command me." + +"Pierre, I have prayed God for you night and morning, and for the sake +of those prayers which are dearer than gold in heaven, stay with me!" + +"Dear Father Victor, you also hope for hands that love you to close +your eyes at the end." + +And the stern priest dropped his head. He said at last: "I have +nothing saving one great and terrible treasure which I see was +predestined to you. It is the cross of Father Meilan. You have worn +it before. You shall wear it hereafter as your own." + +He took from his own neck a silver cross suspended by a slender silver +chain, and the boy, with startled eyes, dropped to his knees and +received the gift. + +"It has brought good to all who possessed it, but for every good thing +that it works for you it will work evil on some other. Great is its +blessing and great is its burden. I, alas, know; but you also have +heard of its history. Do you accept it, Pierre?" + +"Dear Father, with all my heart." + +The colorless hands touched the dark-red hair, and the prophet eyes of +the priest went up. + +"God pardon the sins you shall commit." + +Pierre crushed the hand of Jean Paul Victor against his lips and rushed +from the room, while the tall priest, staring down at the fingers which +had been kissed, pronounced: + +"It is better that he should commit murder with his hands than to slay +in his evil thoughts." + +"Can you resign him like this?" + +"I have forged a thunderbolt. Father Gabrielle, you are a prophet. It +is too great for my hand. Listen!" + +And they heard clearly the sharp clang of a horse's hoofs on the +hard-packed snow, loud at first, but fading rapidly away. The wind, +increasing suddenly, shook the house furiously about them. + +It was a north wind, and traveled south before the rider of the strong +roan. Over a thousand miles of plain and hills it passed, and down +into the cattle country of the mountain-desert which the Rockies hem on +one side and the tall Sierras on the other. + +It was a trail to try even the endurance of Pierre and the strong roan, +but the boy clung to it doggedly. On a trail that led down from the +edges of the northern mountain the roan crashed to the ground in a +plunging fall, hitting heavily on his knees. He was dead before the +boy had freed his feet from the stirrups. + +Pierre threw the saddle over his shoulder and walked eight miles to the +nearest ranchhouse, where he spent practically the last cent of his +money on another horse, and drove on south once more. + +There was little hope in him as day after day slipped past. Only the +ghost of a chance remained that Martin Ryder could fight away death for +another fortnight; yet Pierre had seen many a man from the +mountain-desert stave off the end through weeks and weeks of the +bitterest suffering. His father must be a man of the same hard durable +metal, and upon that Pierre staked all his hopes. + +And always he carried the picture of the dying man alone with his two +wolf-eyed sons who waited for his eyes to weaken. Whenever he thought +of that he touched his horse with the spurs and rode fiercely for a +time. They were his flesh and blood, the man, and even the two +wolf-eyed sons. + +So he came at last to a gap in the hills and looked down on Morgantown +in the hollow, twoscore unpainted houses sprawling along a single +street. The snow was everywhere white and pure, and the town was like +a stain on the landscape with wisps of smoke rising and trailing across +the hilltops. + +Down to the edge of the town he rode, left his cow-pony standing with +hanging head outside a saloon, strode through the swinging doors, and +asked of the bartender the way to the house of Martin Ryder. + +The bartender stopped in his labor of rubbing down the surface of his +bar and stared at the black-serge robe of the stranger, with curiosity +rather than criticism, for women, madmen, and clergymen have the +right-of-way in the mountain-desert. + +He said: "Well, I'll be damned!--askin' your pardon. So old Mart Ryder +has come down to this, eh? Partner, you're sure going to have a rough +ride getting Mart to heaven. Better send a posse along with him, +because some first-class angels are going to get considerable riled +when they sight him coming. Ha, ha, ha! Sure I'll show you the way. +Take the northwest road out of town and go five miles till you see a +broken-backed shack lyin' over to the right. That's Mart Ryder's +place." + +Out to the broken-backed shack rode Pierre le Rouge, Pierre the Red, as +every one in the north country knew him. His second horse, staunch +cow-pony that it was, stumbled on with sagging knees and hanging head, +but Pierre rode upright, at ease, for his mind was untired. + +Broken-backed indeed was the house before which he dismounted. The +roof sagged from end to end, and the stove pipe chimney leaned at a +drunken angle. Nature itself was withered beside that house; before +the door stood a great cottonwood, gashed and scarred by lightning, +with the limbs almost entirely stripped away from one side. Under this +broken monster Pierre stepped and through the door. Two growls like +the snarls of watch-dogs greeted him, and two tall, unshaven men barred +his way. + +Behind them, from the bed in the corner, a feeble voice called: "Who's +there?" + +"In the name of God," said the boy gravely, for he saw a hollow-eyed +specter staring toward him from the bed in the corner, "let me pass! I +am his son!" + +It was not that which made them give back, but a shrill, faint cry of +triumph from the sick man toward which they turned. Pierre slipped +past them and stood above Martin Ryder. He was wasted beyond +belief--only the monster hand showed what he had been. + +"Son?" he queried with yearning and uncertainty. + +"Pierre, your son." + +And he slipped to his knees beside the bed. The heavy hand fell upon +his hair and stroked it. + +"There ain't no ways of doubting it. It's red silk, like the hair of +Irene. Seein' you, boy, it ain't so hard to die. Look up! So! +Pierre, my son! Are you scared of me, boy?" + +"I'm not afraid." + +"Not with them eyes you ain't. Now that you're here, pay the coyotes +and let 'em go off to gnaw the bones." + +He dragged out a small canvas bag from beneath the blankets and +gestured toward the two lurkers in the corner. + +"Take it, and be damned to you!" + +A dirty, yellow hand seized the bag; there was a chortle of exultation, +and the two scurried out of the room. + +"Three weeks they've watched an' waited for me to go out, Pierre. +Three weeks they've waited an' sneaked up to my bed an' sneaked away +agin, seein' my eyes open." + +Looking into their fierce fever brightness, Pierre understood why they +had quailed. For the man, though wrecked beyond hope of living, was +terrible still. The thick, gray stubble on his face could not hide +altogether the hard lines of mouth and jaw, and on the wasted arm the +hand was grotesquely huge. It was horror that widened the eyes of +Pierre as he looked at Martin Ryder; it was a grim happiness that made +his lips almost smile. + +"You've taken holy orders, lad?" + +"No." + +"But the black dress?" + +"I'm only a novice. I've sworn no vows." + +"And you don't hate me--you hold no grudge against me for the sake of +your mother, Pierre?" + +He took the heavy hand. + +"Are you not my father? And my mother was happy with you. For her +sake I love you." + +"The good Father Victor. He sent you to me." + +"I came of my own will. He would not have let me go." + +"He--he would have kept my flesh and blood away from me?" + +"Do not reproach him. He would have kept me from a sin." + +"Sin? By God, boy, no matter what I've done, is it sin for my son to +come to me? What sin?" + +"The sin of murder!" + +"Ha!" + +"I have come to find McGurk." + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +THE CORNER PLOT + +Like some old father-bear watching his cub flash teeth against a +stalking lynx, half proud and half fearful of such courage, so the +dying cattleman looked at his son. Excitement set a high and dangerous +color in his cheek. His eyes were too bright. + +"Pierre--brave boy! Look at me. I ain't no imitation-man, even now, +but I ain't a ghost of what I was. There wasn't no man I wouldn't of +met fair and square with bare hands or with a gun. Maybe my hands was +big, but they were fast on the draw. I've lived all my life with iron +on the hip, and my six-gun has seven notches. + +"But McGurk downed me fair and square. There wasn't no murder. I was +out for his hide, and he knew it. I done the provokin', an' he jest +done the finishin', that was all. It hurts me a lot to say it, but +he's a better man than I was. A kid like you, why, he'd jest eat you, +Pierre." + +Pierre le Rouge smiled again. He felt a stern and aching pride to be +the son of this man. + +"So that's settled," went on Martin Ryder, "an' a damned good thing it +is. Son, you didn't come none too soon. I'm goin' out fast. There +ain't enough light left in me so's I can see my own way. Here's all I +ask: When I die touch my eyelids soft an' draw 'em shut--I've seen the +look in a dead man's eyes. Close 'em, and I know I'll go to sleep an' +have good dreams. And down in the middle of Morgantown is the +buryin'-ground. I've ridden past it a thousand times an' watched a +corner plot, where the grass grows quicker than it does anywheres else +in the cemetery. Pierre, I'd die plumb easy if I knew I was goin' to +sleep the rest of time in that place." + +"It shall be done." + +"But that corner plot, it would cost a pile, son. And I've no money. +I gave what I had to them wolf-eyed boys, Bill an' Bert. Money was +what they wanted, an' after I had Irene's son with me, money was the +cheapest way of gettin' rid of 'em." + +"I'll buy the plot." + +"Have you got that much money, lad?" + +"Yes," lied Pierre calmly. + +The bright eyes grew dimmer and then fluttered close. Pierre started +to his feet, thinking that the end had come. But the voice began +again, fainter, slowly: + +"No light left inside of me, but dyin' this way is easy. There ain't +no wind will blow on me after I'm dead, but I'll be blanketed safe from +head to foot in cool, sweet-smellin' sod--the kind that has tangles of +the roots of grass. There ain't no snow will reach to me where I lie. +There ain't no sun will burn down to me. Dyin' like that is +jest--goin' to sleep." + +After that he said nothing for a time, and the late afternoon darkened +slowly through the room. + +As for Pierre, he did not move, and his mind went back. He did not see +the bearded wreck who lay dying before him, but a picture of Irene, +with the sun lighting her copper hair with places of burning gold, and +a handsome young giant beside her. They rode together on some upland +trail at sunset rime, sharply framed against the bright sky. Their +hands were together; their faces were raised; they laughed, from the +midst of their small heaven. + +There was a whisper below him: "Irene!" + +And Pierre looked down to blankly staring eyes. He groaned, and +dropped to his knees. + +"I have come for you," said the whisper, "because the time has come, +Irene. We have to ride out together. We have a long ways to go. Are +you ready?" + +"Yes," said Pierre. + +"Thank God! It's a wonderful night. The stars are asking us out. +Quick! Into your saddle. Now the spurs. So! We are alone and free, +with the winds around us, and all that we have been forgotten behind +us. Irene, look up with me!" + +The eyes opened wide and stared up; without a stir in the great, gaunt +body he was dead. Pierre drew the eyes reverently shut. There were no +tears in his eyes, but a feeling of hollowness about his heart, and a +great pain. He straightened and looked about him and found that the +room was quite dark. + +So in the dimness Pierre fumbled, by force of habit, at his throat, and +found the cross which he wore by a silver chain about his throat. He +held it in a great grip and closed his eyes and prayed. When he opened +his eyes again it was almost deep night in the room, and Pierre had +passed from youth to manhood. Through the gloom nothing stood out +distinctly save the white face of the dead man, and from that Pierre +looked quickly away. + +One by one he numbered his obligations to Martin Ryder, and first and +last he remembered the lie which had soothed his father. The money for +that corner plot where the grass grew first in the spring of the +year--where was he to find it? He fumbled in his pocket and found only +a single coin. + +He leaned back against the wall and strove to concentrate on the +problem, but his thoughts wandered in spite of himself back to the +snows of Canada, to the letter, to the ride south, the death of the +roan, and so on until he reached his entry to that very room. + +Looking backward, he remembered all things much more clearly than when +he had actually seen them. For instance, he recalled now that as he +walked through the door the two figures which had started up to block +his way had left behind them some playing-cards at the corner table. +One of these cards had slipped from the edge of the board and flickered +slowly to the floor. + +With that memory the thoughts of Pierre le Rouge stopped. The picture +of the falling card remained; all else went out in his mind like the +snuffing of the candle. Then, as if he heard a voice directing him +through the utter blackness of the room, he knew what he must do. + +All his wealth was the single half-dollar piece in his pocket, and +there was only one way in which that coin could be increased to the sum +he would need to buy that corner plot, where the soul of old Martin +Ryder could sleep long and deep. + +From his brothers he would get no help. The least memory of those +sallow, hungry faces convinced him of that. + +There remained the gaming table. In the north country he had watched +men sit in a silent circle, smoking, drinking, with the flare of an +oil-lamp against deep, seamed faces, and only the slip and whisper of +card against card. + +Cold conscience tapped the shoulder of Pierre, remembering the lessons +of Father Victor, but a moment later his head went up and his eyes were +shining through the dark. After all, the end justified the means. It +was typical of him that sorrow sat lightly on him. + +A moment later he was laughing softly as a boy in the midst of a prank, +and busily throwing off the robe of serge. Fumbling through the night +he located the shirt and overalls he had seen hanging from a nail on +the wall. Into these he slipped, leaned to kiss the chill, damp +forehead of the sleeper, and then went out under the open sky. + +The rest had revived the strength of the tough little cow-pony, and he +drove on at a gallop toward the twinkling lights of Morgantown. There +was a new consciousness about Pierre as if he had changed his whole +nature with his clothes. The sober sense of duty which had kept him in +awe all his life like a lifted finger, was almost gone, and in its +place was a joyous freedom. + +For the first time he faintly realized what an existence other than +that of a priest might be. Now for a brief moment he could forget the +part of the subdued novice and become merely a man with nothing about +him to distinguish him from other men, nothing to make heads turn at +his approach and raise whispers as he passed. + +It was a game, but he rejoiced in it as a girl does in her first +masquerade. To-morrow he must be grave and sober-footed and an example +to other men; to-night he could frolic as he pleased. The good Father +Victor would hear and frown, perhaps, but remembering the purpose for +which the thing was done he would forgive. + +So Pierre le Rouge tossed back his head and laughed up to the frosty +stars. The loose sleeves and the skirts of the robe no longer +entangled his limbs. He threw up his arms and shouted. A hillside +caught the sound and echoed it back to him with a wonderful clearness, +and up and down the long ravine beat the clatter of the flying hoofs. +The whole world shouted and laughed and rode with him on Morgantown. + +If the people in the houses that he passed had known they would have +started up from their chairs and taken rifle and horse and after him on +the trail. But how could they tell from the passing of those ringing +hoofs that Pierre, the novice, was dead, and Red Pierre was born? + +So they drowsed on about their comfortable fires, and Pierre drew rein +with a jerk before the largest of Morgantown's saloons. With a hand on +the swinging doors he paused a breathless moment, thinking, doubting, +wondering--and a little cold of heart like the boy who stands on the +bank of the river to take the first plunge in the spring of the year. +He had to set his teeth before he could summon the resolution to throw +open the door. It was done; he stepped inside, and stood blinking in +the sudden rush of light against his face. + +It was all bewildering at first; the radiance, the blue tangle of +smoke, the storm of voices. For Muldoon's was packed from door to +door. Coins rang in a steady chorus along the bar, and the crowd +waited three and four deep. + +Some one was singing a rollicking song of the range at one end of the +bar, and a chorus of four bellowed a profane parody at the other end. + +The ears of Pierre le Rouge tingled hotly, and he lowered his eyes to +the floor. Truly, Father Victor would be very wrath when all this was +confessed. Partly to escape this uproar he worked his way to the +quieter room at the back of the saloon. + +It was almost as crowded as the bar, but here no one spoke except for +an occasional growl. Sudden speaking, and a loud voice, indeed, was +hardly safe. Some one cursed at his ill-luck as Pierre entered, and a +dozen hands reached for six-guns. In such a place one had to be +prepared. + +Pierre remembered with quick dismay that he was not armed. All his +life the straight black gown had been weapon enough to make all men +give way before him. Now he carried no borrowed strength upon his +shoulders. + +Automatically he slipped his fingers under the breast of his shirt +until their tips touched the cold metal of the cross. That gave him +stronger courage. The joy of the adventure made his blood warm again +as he drew out his one coin and looked for a place to start his venture. + +"It is God who governs me," he said, "and why should I doubt Him?" + +So he approached the nearest table. On the surface of it were marked +six squares with chalk, and each with its appropriate number. The man +who ran the game stood behind the table and shook three dice. The +numbers which turned up paid the gambler. The numbers which failed to +show paid the owner of the game. + +His luck had been too strong that night, and now only two men faced +him, and both of them lost persistently. They had passed the stage of +intelligent gaming; they were "bucking" the dice with savage +stubbornness. + +Pierre edged closer, shut his eyes, and deposited his coin. When he +looked again he saw that he had wagered on the five. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +HURLEY + +The dice clattered across the table and were swept up by the hand of +the man behind the table before Pierre could note them. Sick at heart, +he began to turn away, as he saw that hand reach out and gather in the +coins of the other two betters. It went out a third time and laid +another fifty-cent piece upon his. The heart of Pierre bounded up to +his throat. + +Again the dice rolled, and this time he saw distinctly two fives turn +up. Two dollars in silver were dropped upon his, and still he let the +money lie. Again, again, and again the dice rolled. And now there +were pieces of gold among the silver that covered the square of the +five. + +The other two looked askance at him, and the owner of the game growled: +"Gimme room for the coins, stranger, will you?" + +Pierre picked up his winnings. In his left hand he held them, and the +coins brimmed his cupped palm. With the free hand he placed his new +wagers. But he lost now. + +"I cannot win forever," thought Pierre, and redoubled his bets in an +effort to regain the lost ground. + +Still his little fortune dwindled, till the sweat came out on his +forehead and the blood that had flushed his face ran back and left him +pale with dread. And at last there remained only one gold piece. He +hesitated, holding it poised for the wager, while the owner of the game +rattled the dice loudly and looked up at the coin with hungry eyes. + +Once more Pierre closed his eyes and laid his wager, while his empty +left hand slipped again inside his shirt and touched the metal of the +cross, and once more when he opened his eyes the hand of the gambler +was going out to lay a second coin over his. + +"It is the cross!" thought Pierre, and thrilled mightily. "It is the +cross which brings me luck." + +The dice rattled out. He won. Again, and still he won. The gambler +wiped his forehead and looked up anxiously. For these were wagers in +gold, and the doubling stakes were running high. About Pierre a crowd +had grown--a dozen cattlemen who watched the growing heap of gold with +silent fascination. Then they began to make wagers of their own, and +there were faint whispers of wrath and astonishment as the dice clicked +out and each time the winnings of Pierre doubled. + +Suddenly the dealer stopped and held up his left hand as a warning. +With his right, very slowly, inch by inch lest any one should suspect +him of a gun play, he drew out a heavy forty-five and laid it on the +table with the belt of cartridges. + +"Three years she's been on my hip through thick and thin, stranger. +Three years she's shot close an' true. There ain't a butt in the world +that hugs your hand tighter. There ain't a cylinder that spins easier. +Shoot? Lad, even a kid like you could be a killer with that six-gun. +What will you lay ag'in' it?" + +And his red-stained eyes glanced covetously at the yellow heap of +Pierre's money. + +"How much?" said Pierre eagerly. "Is there enough on the table to buy +the gun?" + +"Buy?" said the other fiercely. "There ain't enough coin west of the +Rockies to buy that gun. D'you think I'm yaller hound enough to sell +my six? No, but I'll risk it in a fair bet. There ain't no disgrace +in that; eh, pals?" + +There was a chorus of low grunts of assent. + +"All right," said Pierre. "That pile against the gun." + +"All of it?" + +"All." + +"Look here, kid, if you're tryin' to play a charity game with me--" + +"Charity?" + +The direct, frank surprise of that look disarmed the other. He swept +up the dice-box, and shook it furiously, while his lips stirred. It +was as if he murmured an incantation for success. The dice rolled out, +winking in the light, spun over, and the owner of the gun stood with +both hands braced against the edge of the table, and stared hopelessly +down. + +A moment before his pockets had sagged with a precious weight, and +there had been a significant drag of the belt over his right hip. Now +both burdens were gone. + +He looked up with a short laugh. + +"I'm dry. Who'll stake me to a drink?" + +Pierre scooped up a dozen pieces of the gold. + +"Here." + +The other drew back. + +"You're very welcome to it. Here's more, if you'll have it." + +"The coin I've lost to you? Take back a gamblin' debt?" + +"Easy there," said one of the men. "Don't you see the kid's green? +Here's a five-spot." + +The loser accepted the coin as carelessly as if he were conferring a +favor by taking it, cast another scowl in the direction of Pierre, and +went out toward the bar. Pierre, very hot in the face, pocketed his +winnings and belted on the gun. It hung low on his thigh, just in easy +gripping distance of his hand, and he fingered the butt with a smile. + +"The kid's feelin' most a man," remarked a sarcastic voice. "Say, kid, +why don't you try your luck with Mac Hurley? He's almost through with +poor, old Cochrane." + +Following the direction of the pointing finger, Pierre saw one of those +mute tragedies of the gambling hall. Cochrane, an old cattleman whose +carefully trimmed, pointed white beard and slender, tapering fingers +set him apart from the others in the room, was rather far gone with +liquor. He was still stiffly erect in his chair, and would be till the +very moment consciousness left him, but his eyes were misty, and when +he spoke the fine-cut lips moved slowly, as though numbed by cold. + +Beside him stood a tall, black bottle with a little whisky glass to +flank it. He made his bets with apparent carelessness, but with a real +and deepening gloom. Once or twice he glanced up sharply as though +reckoning his losses, though it seemed to Pierre le Rouge almost like +an appeal. + +And what appeal could affect Mac Hurley? There was no color in the +man, either body or soul. No emotion could show in those pale, small +eyes or change the color of the flabby cheeks. If his hands had been +cut off he might have seemed some sodden victim of a drug habit, but +the hands saved him. + +They seemed to belong to another body--beautiful, swift, and strong, +and grafted by some foul mischance onto this rotten hulk. Very white +they were, and long, with a nervous uneasiness in every motion, +continually hovering around the cards with little touches which were +almost caresses. + +"It ain't a game," said the man who had first pointed out the group to +Pierre, "it's just a slaughter. Cochrane's too far gone to see +straight. Look at that deal now! A kid could see that he's crooking +the cards!" + +It was Blackjack, and Hurley, as usual, was dealing. He dealt with one +hand, flipping the cards out with a snap of the wrist, the fingers +working rapidly over the pack. Now and then he glanced over to the +crowd, as if to enjoy their admiration of his skill. He was showing it +now, not so much by the deftness of his cheating as by the openness +with which he exposed his tricks. + +As the stranger remarked to Pierre, a child could have discovered that +the cards were being dealt at will from the top and the bottom of the +pack, but the gambler was enjoying himself by keeping his game just +open enough to be apparent to every other man in the room--just covert +enough to deceive the drink-misted brain of Cochrane. And the pale, +swinish eyes twinkled as they stared across at the dull sorrow of the +old man. There was an ominous sound from Pierre: + +"Do you let a thing like that happen in this country?" he asked +fiercely. + +The other turned to him with a sneer. + +"_Let_ it happen? Who'll stop him? Say, partner, you ain't meanin' to +say that you don't know who Hurley is?" + +"I don't need telling. I can see." + +"What you can't see means a lot more than what you can. I've been in +the same room when Hurley worked his gun once. It wasn't any killin', +but it was the prettiest bit of cheatin' I ever seen. But even if +Hurley wasn't enough, what about Carl Diaz?" + +He glared his triumph at Pierre, but the latter was too puzzled to +quail, and too stirred by the pale, gloomy face of Cochrane to turn +toward the other. + +"What of Diaz?" + +"Look here, boy. You're a kid, all right, but you ain't that young. +D'you mean to say that you ain't heard of Carlos Diaz?" + +It came back to Pierre then, for even into the snow-bound seclusion of +the north country the shadow of the name of Diaz had gone. He could +not remember just what they were, but he seemed to recollect grim tales +through which that name figured. + +The other went on: "But if you ain't ever seen him before, look him +over now. They's some says he's faster on the draw than Bob McGurk, +but, of course, that's stretchin' him out a size too much. What's the +matter, kid; you've met McGurk?" + +"No, but I'm going to." + +"Might even be carried to him, eh--feet first?" + +Pierre turned and laid a hand on the shoulder of the other. + +"Don't talk like that," he said gently. "I don't like it." + +The other reached up to snatch the hand from his shoulder, but he +stayed his arm. + +He said after an uncomfortable moment of that silent staring: "Well, +partner, there ain't a hell of a lot to get sore over, is there? You +don't figure you're a mate for McGurk, do you?" + +He seemed oddly relieved when the eyes of Pierre moved away from him +and returned to the figure of Carlos Diaz. The Mexican was a perfect +model for a painting of a melodramatic villain. He had waxed and +twirled the end of his black mustache so that it thrust out a little +spur on either side of his long face. His habitual expression was a +scowl; his habitual position was with a cigarette in the fingers of his +left hand, and his right hand resting on his hip. + +He sat in a chair directly behind that of Hurley, and Pierre's +new-found acquaintance explained: + +"He's the bodyguard for Hurley. Maybe there's some who could down +Hurley in a straight gun fight; maybe there's one or two like McGurk +that could down Diaz--damn his yellow hide--but there ain't no one can +buck the two of 'em. It ain't in reason. So they play the game +together. Hurley works the cards and Diaz covers up the retreat. +Can't beat that, can you?" + +Pierre le Rouge slipped his left hand once more Inside his shirt until +the fingers touched the cross. + +"Nevertheless, that game has to stop." + +"Who'll--say, kid, are you stringin' me, or are you drunk? Look me in +the eye!" + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +FEAR + +Pierre turned and looked calmly upon the other. + +And the man whispered in a sort of awe: "Well, I'll be damned!" + +"Stand aside!" + +The other fell back a pace, and Pierre went straight to the table and +said to Cochrane: "Sir, I have come to take you home." + +The old man looked up and rubbed his eyes as though waking from a sleep. + +"Stand back from the table!" warned Hurley. + +"By the Lord, have they been missing me?" queried old Cochrane. + +"You are waited for," answered Pierre le Rouge, "and I've been sent to +take you home." + +"If that's the case--" + +"It ain't the case. The kid's lying." + +"Lying?" repeated Cochrane, as if he had never heard the word before, +and he peered with clearing eyes toward Pierre. "No, I think this boy +has never lied." + +Silence had spread through the place like a vapor. Even the slight +sounds in the gaming-room were done now, and one pair after another of +eyes swung toward the table of Cochrane and Hurley. The wave of the +silence reached to the barroom. No one could have carried the tidings +so soon, but the air was surcharged with the consciousness of an +impending crisis. + +Half a dozen men started to make their way on tiptoe toward the back +room. One stood with his whisky glass suspended in mid air, and tilted +back his head to listen. In the gaming-room Hurley pushed back his +chair and leaned to the left, giving him a free sweep for his right +hand. The Mexican smiled with a slow and deep content. + +"Thank you," answered Pierre, "but I am waiting still, sir." + +The left hand of Hurley played impatiently on the table. + +He said: "Of course, if you have enough--" + +"I--enough?" flared the old aristocrat. + +Pierre le Rouge turned fairly upon Hurley. + +"In the name of God," he said calmly, and God on his lips was as gentle +as music, "make an end of your game. You're playing for money, but I +think this man is playing for his eternal soul." + +The solemn, bookish phraseology came smoothly from his tongue. He knew +no other. It drew a murmur of amusement from the room and a snarl from +Hurley. + +"Put on skirts, kid, and join the Salvation Army, but don't get +yourself messed all up in here. This is my party, and I'm damned +particular who I invite! Now, run along!" + +The head of Pierre tilted back, and he burst into laughter which +troubled even Hurley. + +The gambler blurted: "What's happening to you, kid?" + +"I've been making a lot of good resolutions, Mr. Hurley, about keeping +out of trouble; but here I am in it up to the neck." + +"No trouble as long as you keep your hand out of another man's game, +kid." + +"That's it. I can't see you rob Mr. Cochrane like this. You aren't +gambling--you're digging gold. The game stops now." + +It was a moment before the crowd realized what was about to happen; +they saw it reflected first in the face of Hurley, which suddenly went +taut and pale, and then, even as they looked with a smile of curiosity +and derision toward Pierre le Rouge, they saw and understood. + +For the moment Pierre said, "The game stops now," the calm which had +been with him was gone. It was like the scent of blood to the starved +wolf. The last word was scarcely off his tongue when he was crouched +with a devil of green fury in his eyes--the light struck his hair into +a wave of flame--his face altered by a dozen ugly years. + +"D'you mean?" whispered Hurley, as if he feared to break the silence +with his full voice. + +"Get out of the room." + +And the impulse of Hurley, plainly enough, was to obey the order, and +go anywhere to escape from that relentless stare. His glance wavered +and flashed around the circle and then back to Red Pierre, for the +expectancy and the alertness of all the crowd forced him back. + +When the leader of the pack springs and fails to kill, the rest of the +pack tear him to pieces. Remembering this, Mac Hurley forced his +glance back to Pierre. Moreover, there was a soft voice from behind, +and he remembered Diaz. + +All this had taken place in the length of time that it takes a heavy +body to totter on the brink of a precipice or a cat to regain its feet +after a fall. After the voice of Diaz there was a sway through the +room, a pulse of silence, and then three hands shot for their +hips--Pierre, Diaz, and Hurley. + +No stop-watch could have caught the differing lengths of time which +each required for the draw. The muzzle of Hurley's revolver was not +clear of the holster--the gun of Diaz was nearly at the level when +Pierre's weapon exploded at his hip. The bullet cut through the wrist +of Hurley. Never again would that slender, supple hand fly over the +cards, doing things other than they seemed. He made no effort to +escape from the next bullet, but stood looking down at his broken +wrist; horror for the moment gave him a dignity oddly out of place with +his usual appearance. He alone in all the room was moveless. + +The crowd, undecided for an instant, broke for the doors at the first +shot; Pierre le Rouge, pitched to the floor as Diaz leaped forward, the +revolver in either hand spitting lead and fire. + +It was no bullet that downed Pierre but his own cunning. He broke his +fall with an outstretched left hand, while the bullets of Diaz pumped +into the void space which his body had filled a moment before. + +Lying there at ease, he leveled the revolver, grinning with the +mirthless lust of battle, and fired over the top of the table. The +guns dropped from the hands of huge Diaz. He caught at his throat and +staggered back the full length of the room, crashing against the wall. +When he pitched forward on his face he was dead before he struck the +floor. + +Pierre, now Red Pierre, indeed, rose and ran to the fallen man, and, +looking at the bulk of the giant, he wondered with a cold heart. He +knew before he slipped his hand over the breast of Diaz that this was +death. Then he rose again and watched the still fingers which seemed +to be gripping at the boards. + +These he saw, and nothing else, and all he heard was the rattling of +the wind of winter, wrenching at some loose shingle on the roof, and he +knew that he was alone in the world, for he had put out a life. + +He found a strange weight pulling down his right hand, and started when +he saw the revolver. He replaced it in the holster automatically, and +in so doing touched the barrel and found it warm. + +Then fear came to Pierre, the first real fear of his life. He jerked +his head high and looked about him. The room was utterly empty. He +tiptoed to the door and found even the long bar deserted, littered with +tall bottles and overturned glasses. The cold in his heart increased. +A moment before he had been hand in hand with all the mirth in that +place. + +Now the men whose laughter he had repeated with smiles, the men against +whose sleeves his elbow had touched, were further away from him than +they had been when all the snow-covered miles from Morgantown to the +school of Father Victor had laid between them. They were men who might +lose themselves in any crowd, but he was set apart with a brand, even +as Hurley and Diaz had been set apart that eventful evening. + +He had killed a man. That fact blotted out the world. He drew his gun +again and stole down the length of the bar. Once he stopped and poised +the weapon before he realized that the white, fierce face that squinted +at him was his own reflection in a mirror. + +Outside the door the free wind caught at his face, and he blessed it in +his heart, as if it had been the touch of the hand of a friend. Beyond +the long, dark, silent street the moon rose and passed up through the +safe, dark spaces of the sky. + +He must move quickly now. The pursuit was not yet organized, but it +would begin in a space of minutes. From the group of half a dozen +horses which stood before the saloon he selected the best--a tall, +raw-boned nag with an ugly head. Into the saddle he swung, wondering +faintly that the theft of a horse mattered so little to him. His was +the greatest sin. All other things mattered nothing. + +Down the long street he galloped. The sharp echoes flew out at him +from every unlighted house, but not a human being was in sight. So he +swung out onto the long road which wound up through the hills, and +beside him rode a grim brotherhood, the invisible fellowship of Cain. + +The moon rose higher, brighter, and a grotesque black shadow galloped +over the snow beside him. He turned his head sharply to the other side +and watched the sweep of white hills which reached back in range after +range until they blended with the shadows of night. + +The road faded to a bridle path, and this in turn he lost among the +windings of the valley. He was lost from even the traces of men, and +yet the fear of men pursued him. Fear, and yet with it there was a +thrill of happiness, for every swinging stride of the tall, wild roan +carried him deeper into freedom, the unutterable fierce freedom of the +hunted. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE VOICE IN THE STORM + +All life was tame compared with this sudden awakening of Pierre, for +his whole being burst into flower, his whole nature opened. He had +killed a man. For fear of it he raced the tall roan furiously through +the night. + +He had killed a man. For the joy of it his head was high, he shouted a +song that went ringing across the blank, white hills. What place was +there in Red Pierre for solemn qualms of conscience? Had he not met +the first and last test triumphantly? The oldest instinct in creation +was satisfied in him. Now he stood ready to say to all the world: +Behold, a man! + +Let it be remembered that his early years had been passed in a dull, +dun silence, and time had slipped by him with softly padding, +uneventful hours. Now, with the rope of restraint snapped, he rode at +the world with hands, palm upward, asking for life, and that life which +lies under the hills of the mountain-desert heard his question and sent +a cold, sharp echo back to answer his lusty singing. + +The first answer, as he plunged on, not knowing where, and not caring, +was when the roan reeled suddenly and flung forward to the ground. +Even that violent stop did not unseat Red Pierre. He jerked up on the +reins with a curse and drove in the spurs. Valiantly the horse reared +his shoulders up, but when he strove to rise the right foreleg dangled +helplessly. He had stepped in some hole and the bone was broken +cleanly across. + +The rider slipped from the saddle and stood facing the roan, which +pricked its ears forward and struggled once more to regain its feet. +The effort was hopeless, and Pierre took the broken leg and felt the +rough edges of the splintered bone through the skin. The animal, as if +it sensed that the man was trying to do it some good, nosed his +shoulder and whinnied softly. + +Pierre stepped back and drew his revolver. The bullet would do quickly +what the cold would accomplish after lingering hours of torture, yet, +facing those pricking ears and the brave trust of the eyes, he was +blinded by a mist and could not aim. He had to place the muzzle of the +gun against the roan's temple and pull the trigger. When he turned his +back he was the only living thing within the white arms of the hills. + +Yet, when the next hill was behind him, he had already forgotten the +second life which he put out that night, for regret is the one sorrow +which never dodges the footsteps of the hunted. Like all his +brotherhood of Cain, Pierre le Rouge pressed forward across the +mountain-desert with his face turned toward the brave to-morrow. In +the evening of his life, if he should live to that time, he would walk +and talk with God. + +Now he had no mind save for the bright day coming. + +He had been riding with the wind and had scarcely noticed its violence +in his headlong course. Now he felt it whipping sharply at his back +and increasing with each step. Overhead the sky was clear, pitilessly +clear. It seemed to give vision for the wind and cold to seek him out, +and the moon made his following shadow long and black across the snow. + +The wind quickened rapidly to a gale that cut off the surface of the +snow and whipped volleys of the small particles level with the surface. +It cut the neck of Red Pierre, and the gusts struck his shoulders with +staggering force like separate blows, twisting him a little from side +to side. + +Coming from the direction of Morgantown, it seemed as if the vengeance +for Diaz was following the slayer. Once he turned and laughed hard and +short in the teeth of the wind, and shook his fist back at Morgantown +and all the avenging powers of the law. + +Yet he was glad to turn away from the face of the storm and stride on +down-wind. Even traveling with the gale grew more and more impossible. +The snowdrifts which the wind picked up and hurried across the hills +pressed against Pierre's back like a great, invisible hand, bowing him +as if beneath a burden. In the hollows the labor was not so great, but +when he approached a summit the gale screamed in his ear and struck him +savagely. + +For all his optimism, for all his young, undrained strength, a doubt +began to grow in the mind of Pierre le Rouge. At length, remembering +how that weight of gold came in his pockets, he slipped his left hand +into the bosom of his shirt and touched the icy metal of the cross. +Almost at once he heard, or thought he heard, a faint, sweet sound of +singing. + +The heart of Red Pierre stopped. For he knew the visions which came to +men perishing with cold; but he grew calmer again in a moment. This +touch of cold was nothing compared with whole months of hard exposure +which he had endured in the northland. It had not the edge. If it +were not for the wind it was scarcely a threat to life. Moreover, the +singing sounded no more. It had been hardly more than a phrase of +music, and it must have been a deceptive murmur of the wind. + +After all, a gale brought wilder deceptions than that. Some men had +actually heard voices declaiming words in such a wind. He himself had +heard them tell their stories. So he leaned forward again and gave his +stanch heart to the task. Yet once more he stopped, for this time the +singing came clearly, sweetly to him. + +There was no doubt of it now. Of course it was wildly impossible, +absurd; but beyond all question he heard the voice of a woman, high and +tender, come whistling down the wind. He could almost catch the words. +For a little moment he lingered still. Then he turned and fought his +way into the strong arms of the storm. + +Every now and then he paused and crouched to the snow. Usually there +was only the shriek of the wind in his ears, but a few times the +singing came to him and urged him on. If he had allowed the idea of +failure to enter his mind, he must have given up the struggle, but +failure was a stranger to his thoughts. + +He lowered his head against the storm. Sometimes it caught under him +and nearly lifted him from his feet. But he clung against the slope of +the hill, sometimes gripping hard with his hands. So he worked his way +to the right, the sound of the singing coming more and more frequently +and louder and louder. When he was almost upon the source of the music +it ceased abruptly. + +He waited a moment, but no sound came. He struggled forward a few more +yards and pitched down exhausted, panting. Still he heard the singing +no longer. With a falling heart he rose and resigned himself to wander +on his original course with the wind, but as he started he placed his +hand once more against the cross, and it was then that he saw her. + +For he had simply gone past her, and the yelling of the storm had cut +off the sound of her voice. Now he saw her lying, a spot of bright +color on the snow. He read the story at a glance. As she passed this +steep-sided hill the loosely piled snow had slid down and carried with +it the dead trunk of a fallen tree. + +Pierre came from behind and stood over her unnoticed. He saw that the +oncoming tree, by a strange chance, had knocked down the girl and +pinned her legs to the ground. His strength and the strength of a +dozen men would not be sufficient to release her. This he saw at the +first glance, and saw the bright gold of her hair against the snow. +Then he dropped on his knees beside her. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +BELIEF + +The girl tossed up her arms in a silent ecstasy, and Pierre caught the +small cold hands and saw that she was only a child of twelve or +fourteen, lovely as only a child can be, and still more beautiful with +the wild storm sweeping over her and the waste of snow around them. + +He crouched lower still, and when he did so the strength of the wind +against his face decreased wonderfully, for the sharp angle of the +hill's declivity protected them. Seeing him kneel there, helpless with +wonder, she cried out with a little wail: "Help me--the tree--help me!" +And, bursting into a passion of sobbing, she tugged her hands from his +and covered her face. + +Pierre placed his shoulder under the trunk and lifted till the muscles +of his back snapped and cracked. He could not budge the weight; he +could not even send a tremor through the mass of wood; He dropped back +beside her with a groan. He felt her eyes upon him; she had ceased her +sobs, and looked steadily, gravely, into his face. + +It would have been easy for him to meet that look on the morning of +this day, but after that night's work in Morgantown he had to brace his +nerve mightily to withstand it. + +She said: "You can't budge the tree?" + +"Yes--in a minute; I will try again." + +"You'll only hurt yourself for nothing. I saw how you strained at it." + +The greatest miracle he had ever seen was her calm. Her eyes were wide +and sorrowful indeed, but she was almost smiling up to him. + +After a while he was able to say, in a faint, small voice: "Are you +very cold?" + +She answered: "I'm not afraid. But if you stay longer with me, you may +freeze. The snow and even the tree help to keep me almost warm; but +you will freeze. Go for help; hurry, and if you can, send it back to +me." + +He thought of the long miles back to Morgantown; no human being could +walk that distance against this wind; not even a strong horse could +make its way through the storm. If he went on with the wind, how long +would it be before he reached a house? Before him, over range after +range of hills, he saw no single sign of a building. If he reached +some such place it would be the same story as the trip to Morgantown; +men simply could not beat a way against that wind. + +Then a cold hand touched his, and he looked up to find her eyes grave +and wide once more, and her lips half smiling, as if she strove to +deceive him. + +"There's no chance of bringing help?" + +He merely stared hungrily at her, and the loveliest thing he had ever +seen was the play of golden hair beside her cheek. Her smile went out. +She withdrew her hand, but she repeated: + +"I'm not afraid. I'll simply grow numb and then fall asleep. But you +go on and save yourself." + +Seeing him shake his head, she caught his hands again, and so strongly +that the chill of her touch filled his veins with an icy fire. + +"I'll be unhappy. You'll make me so unhappy if you stay. Please go." + +He raised the small, white hand and pressed it to his lips. + +She said: "You are crying!" + +"No, no!" + +"There! I see the tears shining on my hand. What is your name?" + +"Pierre." + +"Pierre? I like that name. Pierre, to make me happy, will you go? +Your face is all white and touched with a shadow of blue. It is the +cold. Oh, won't you go?" Then she pleaded, finding him obdurate: "If +you won't go for me, then go for your father." + +He raised his head with a sudden laughter, and, raising it, the wind +beat into his face fiercely and the particles of snow whipped his skin. + +"Dear Pierre, then for your mother?" + +He bowed his head. + +"Not for all the people who love you and wait for you now by some warm +fire--some cozy fire, all yellow and bright?" + +He took her hands and with them covered his eyes. + +"Listen: I have no father; I have no mother." + +"Pierre! Oh, Pierre, I'm sorry!" + +"And for the rest of 'em, I've killed a man. The whole world hates me; +the whole world's hunting me." + +The small hands tugged away. He dared not raise his bowed and +miserable head for fear of her eyes. And then the hands came back to +him and touched his face. + +She was saying tremulously: "Then he deserved to be killed. There must +be men like that--almost. And I--like you still, Pierre." + +"Really?" + +"I almost think I like you more--because you could kill a man--and then +stay here for me." + +"If you were a grown-up girl, do you know what I'd say?" + +"Please tell me." + +"That I could love you." + +"Pierre--" + +"Yes." + +"My name is Mary Brown." + +He repeated several times: "Mary." + +"And if I were a grown-up girl, do you know what I would answer?" + +"I don't dare guess it." + +"That I could love you, Pierre, if you were a grown-up man." + +"But I am." + +"Not a really one." + +And they both broke into laughter--happy laughter that died out before +a sound of rushing and of thunder, as a mass slid swiftly past them, +snow and mud and sand and rubble. The wind fell away from them, and +when Pierre looked up he saw that a great mass of tumbled rock and soil +loomed above them. + +The landslide had not touched them, by some miracle, but in a moment +more it might shake loose again, and all that mass of ton upon ton of +stone and loam would overwhelm them. The whole mass quaked and +trembled and trembled, and the very hillside shuddered beneath them. + +She looked up and saw the coming ruin; but her cry was for him, not +herself. + +"Run, Pierre--you can save yourself." + +With that terror threatening him from above, he rose and started to run +down the hill. A moan of woe followed him, and he stopped and turned +back, and fought his way through the wind until he was beside her once +more. + +She was wringing the white, cold hands and weeping: + +"Pierre--I couldn't help it--but when you left me the whole world went +out, and my heart broke. I couldn't help calling out for you; but now +I'm strong again, and I won't have you stay. The whole mountain is +shaking and falling toward us. Go now, Pierre, and I'll never make a +sound to bring you back." + +He said: "Hush! I've something here which will keep us both safe. +Look!" + +He tore from the chain which held it at his throat the little metal +cross, and held it high overhead, glimmering in the pallid light. She +forgot her fear in wonder. + +"I gambled with only one coin to lose, and I came out to-night with +hundreds and hundreds of dollars because I had the cross. It is a +charm against all danger and against all bad fortune. It has never +failed me." + +Over them the piled mass slid closer. The forehead of Pierre gleamed +with sweat, but a strong purpose made him talk on. At least he could +take all the foreboding of death from the child, and when the end came +it would be swift and wipe them both out at one stroke. She clung to +him, eager to believe. + +"I've closed my eyes so that I can believe." + +"It has never failed me. It saved me once when I fought a big bobcat +with only a knife. It saved me again when I fought two men. Both of +them were famous fighters, but neither of them had the cross. One of +them I crippled and the other died. You see, the power of the cross is +as great as that. Do you doubt it now, Mary?" + +"Do you believe in it so much--really--Pierre?" + +Each time there was a little lowering of her voice, a little pause and +caress in the tone as she uttered his name, and nothing in all his life +had stirred Red Pierre so deeply with happiness and sorrow. + +"Do you believe, Pierre?" she repeated. + +He looked up and saw the shuddering mass of the landslide creeping upon +them inch by inch. In another moment it would loose itself with a rush +and cover them. + +"I believe," he said. + +"If you should live, and I should die--" + +"I would throw the cross away." + +"No, you would keep it; and every time it touched cold against your +breast you would think of me, Pierre, would you not?" + +"When you reach out to me like that, you sort of take my heart between +your hands." + +"And when you look at me like that I feel grown-up and sad and happy +both together. But, listen, Pierre, I know why I cannot die now. God +means us to be so happy together, doesn't He? Because after we've been +together on such a night, how can we ever be apart again?" + +The mass of the landslide toppled right above them. She did not seem +to see. + +"Of course we never can be." + +"But we'll be like a brother and sister and something more." + +"And something more, Mary." + +She clapped her hands and laughed. The laughter hurt him more than her +sobbing, for as she lay wrapped in her thick furs, even the pale, cold +light could not make her pallid. + +The blowing hair was as warm as yellow sunshine to the heart of Pierre +le Rouge, and the color of her cheeks was as dear to him as the early +flowers of spring in the northland. + +"I'm so happy, Pierre. I was never so happy." + +And he said, with his eyes on the approaching ruin: + +"It was your singing that brought me to you. Will you sing again?" + +"I sang because I knew that when I sang the sound would carry farther +through the wind than if I called for help. What shall I sing for you +now, Pierre?" + +"What you sang when I came to you." + +And the light, sweet voice rose easily through the sweep of the wind. +She smiled as she sang, and the smile and music were all for Pierre, he +knew, and all the pathos of the climax was for him; but through the +last stanza of the song the rumble of the approaching death grew +louder, and as she ended he threw himself beside her and gathered her +into protecting arms. + +She cried: "Pierre! What is it?" + +"I must keep you warm; the snow will eat away your strength." + +"No; it's more than that. Tell me, Pierre! You don't trust the power +of the cross?" + +"Are you afraid?" + +"Oh, no; I'm not afraid, Pierre." + +"If one life would be enough, I'd give mine a thousand times. Mary, we +are to die." + +A small arm slipped around his neck--a cold hand pressed against his +cheek. + +"Pierre." + +"Yes." + +The thunder broke above them with a mighty roaring. + +"You have no fear." + +"Mary, if I had died alone I would have dropped down to hell under my +sins; but, with your arm around me, you'll take me with you. Hold me +close." + +"With all my heart, Pierre. See--I'm not afraid. It is like going to +sleep. What wonderful dreams we'll have!" + +And then the black mass of the landslide swept upon them. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +RIDERS OF THE SILENCES + +Down all the length of the mountain-desert and across its width of +rocks and mountains and valleys and stern plateaus there is a saying: +"You can tell a man by the horse he rides." For most other important +things are apt to go by opposites, which is the usual way in which a +man selects his wife. With dogs, for instance--a quiet man is apt to +want an active dog, and a tractable fellow may keep the most vicious of +wolf-dogs. + +But when it comes to a horse, a man's heart speaks for itself, and if +he has sufficient knowledge of the king of beasts he will choose a +sympathetic mount. A dainty woman loves a neat-stepping saddle-horse; +a philosopher likes a nodding, stumble-footed nag which will jog all +day long and care not a whit whether it goes up dale or down. + +To know the six wild riders who galloped over the white reaches of the +mountain-desert this night, certainly their horses should be studied +first and the men secondly, for the one explained the other. + +They came in a racing triangle. Even the storm at its height could not +daunt such furious riders. At the point of the triangle thundered a +mighty black stallion, his muzzle and his broad chest flecked with +white foam, for he stretched his head out and champed at the bit with +ears laid flat back, as though even that furious pace gave him no +opportunity to use fully his strength. + +He was no cleanly cut beauty, but an ugly headed monster with a +savagely hooked Roman nose and small, keen eyes, always red at the +corners. A medieval baron in full panoply of plate armor would have +chosen such a charger among ten thousand steeds, yet the black stallion +needed all his strength to uphold the unarmored giant who bestrode him, +a savage figure. + +When the broad brim of his hat flapped up against the wind the +moonshine caught at shaggy brows, a cruelly arched nose, thin, straight +lips, and a forward-thrusting jaw. It seemed as if nature had hewn him +roughly and designed him for a primitive age where he could fight his +way with hands and teeth. + +This was Jim Boone. To his right and a little behind him galloped a +riderless horse, a beautiful young animal continually tossing its head +and looking as if for guidance at the big stallion. + +To the left strode a handsome bay with pricking ears. A mound +interfered with his course, and he cleared it in magnificent style that +would have brought a cheer from the lips of any English lover of the +chase. + +Straight in the saddle sat Dick Wilbur, and he raised his face a little +to the wind, smiling faintly as if he rejoiced in its fine strength, as +handsome as the horse he rode, as cleanly cut, as finely bred. The +moon shone a little brighter on him than on any others of the six stark +riders. + +Bud Mansie behind, for instance, kept his head slightly to one side and +cursed beneath his breath at the storm and set his teeth at the wind. +His horse, delicately formed, with long, slender legs, could not have +endured that charge against the storm save that it constantly edged +behind the leaders and let them break the wind. It carried less weight +than any other mount of the six, and its strength was cunningly nursed +by the rider so that it kept its place, and at the finish it would be +as strong as any and swifter, perhaps, for a sudden, short effort, just +as Bud Mansie might be numbed through all his nervous, slender body, +but never too numb for swift and deadly action. + +On the opposite wing of the flying wedge galloped a dust-colored gray, +ragged of mane and tail, and vindictive of eye, like its down-headed +rider, who shifted his glance rapidly from side to side and watched the +ground closely before his horse as if he were perpetually prepared for +danger. + +He distrusted the very ground over which his mount strode. For all +this he seemed the least formidable of all the riders. To see him pass +none could have suspected that this was Black Morgan Gandil. + +Last of the crew came two men almost as large as Jim Boone himself, on +strong steady-striding horses. They came last in this crew, but among +a thousand other long-riders they would have ridden first, either +red-faced, good-humored, loud-voiced Garry Patterson, or Phil Branch, +stout-handed, blunt of jaw, who handled men as he had once hammered red +iron at the forge. + +Each of them should have ridden alone in order to be properly +appreciated. To see them together was like watching a flock of eagles +every one of which should have been a solitary lord of the air. But +after scanning that lordly train which followed, the more terrible +seemed the rider of the great black horse. + +Yet the king was sad, and the reason for his sadness was the riderless +horse which galloped so freely beside him. His son had ridden that +horse when they set out, and all the way down to the railroad Handsome +Hal Boone had kept his mount prancing and curveting and had ridden +around and around tall Dick Wilbur, playing pranks, and had teased his +father's black until the big stallion lashed out wildly with furious +heels. + +It was the memory of this that kept the grave shadow of a smile on the +father's lips for all the sternness of his eyes. He never turned his +head, for, looking straight forward, he could conjure up the laughing +vision; but when he glanced to the empty saddle he heard once more the +last unlucky shot fired from the train as they raced off with their +booty, and saw Hal reel in his saddle and pitch forward; and how he had +tried to check his horse and turn back; and how big Dick Wilbur, and +Patterson, and mighty-handed Phil Branch had forced him to go on and +leave that form lying motionless on the snow. + +At that he groaned, and spurred the black, and so the cavalcade rushed +faster and faster through the night. + +They came over a sharp ridge and veered to the side just in time, for +all the further slope was a mass of treacherous sand and rubble and raw +rocks and mud, where a landslide had stripped the hill to the stone. + +As they veered about the ruin and thundered on down to the foot of the +hill, Jim Boone threw up his hand for a signal and brought his stallion +to a halt on back-braced, sliding legs. + +For a metallic glitter had caught his eye, and then he saw, half +covered by the pebbles and dirt, the figure of a man. He must have +been struck by the landslide and not overwhelmed by it, but rather +carried before it like a stick in a rush of water. At the outermost +edge of the wave he lay with the rocks and dirt washed over him. Boone +swung from the saddle and lifted Pierre le Rouge. + +The gleam of metal was the cross which his fingers still gripped. +Boone examined it with a somewhat superstitious caution, took it from +the nerveless fingers, and slipped it into a pocket of Pierre's shirt. +A small cut on the boy's forehead showed where the stone struck which +knocked him senseless, but the cut still bled--a small trickle--Pierre +lived. He even stirred and groaned and opened his eyes, large and +deeply blue. + +It was only an instant before they closed, but Boone had seen. He +turned with the figure lifted easily in his arms as if Pierre had been +a child fallen asleep by the hearth and now about to be carried off to +bed. + +And the outlaw said: "I've lost my boy to-night. This here one was +given me by the will of--God." + +Black Morgan Gandil reined his horse close by, leaned to peer down, and +the shadow of his hat fell across the face of Pierre. + +"There's no good comes of savin' shipwrecked men. Leave him where you +found him, Jim. That's my advice. Sidestep a red-headed man. That's +what I say." + +The quick-stepping horse of Bud Mansie came near, and the rider wiped +his blue, stiff lips, and spoke from the side of his mouth, a prison +habit of the line that moves in the lock-step: "Take it from me, Jim, +there ain't any place in our crew for a man you've picked up without +knowing him beforehand. Let him lay, I say." + +But big Dick Wilbur was already leading up the horse of Hal Boone, and +into the saddle Jim Boone swung the inert body of Pierre. The argument +was settled, for every man of them knew that nothing could turn Boone +back from a thing once begun. Yet there were muttered comments that +drew Black Morgan Gandil and Bud Mansie together. + +And Gandil, from the South Seas, growled with averted eyes: + +"This is the most fool stunt the chief has ever pulled." + +"Right, pal," answered Mansie. "You take a snake in out of the cold, +and it bites you when it comes to in the warmth; but the chief has +started, and there ain't nothing that'll make him stop, except maybe +God or McGurk." + +And Black Gandil answered with his evil, sudden grin: "Maybe McGurk, +but not God." + +They started on again with Garry Patterson and Dick Wilbur riding close +on either side of Pierre, supporting his limp body. It delayed the +whole gang, for they could not go on faster than a jog-trot. The wind, +however, was falling off in violence. Its shrill whistling ceased, at +length, and they went on, accompanied only by the harsh crunching of +the snow underfoot. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THE GUARD + +Consciousness returned to Pierre like the light of the rising moon +which breaks dimly through the window and makes all the objects in a +room grotesquely large and blackly shadowed. Many a time his eyes +opened, and he saw nothing, but when he did see and hear it was by +vague glimpses. + +He heard the crying crunch of the snow underfoot; he heard the panting +and snorting of the horses; he felt the swing and jolt of the saddle +beneath him; he saw the grim faces of the long-riders, and he said: +"The law has taken me." + +Thereafter he let his will lapse, and surrendered to the sleepy +numbness which assailed his brain in waves. He was riding without +support by this time, but it was an automatic effort. There was no +more real life in him than in a dummy figure. It was not the effect of +the blow. It was rather the long exposure and the over-exertion of +nerves and mind and body during the evening and night. He had simply +collapsed beneath the strain. + +But an old army man has said: "Give me a soldier of eighteen or twenty. +In a single day he may not march quite so far as a more mature man or +carry quite so much weight. He will go to sleep each night dead to the +world. But in the morning he awakens a new man. He is like a slate +from which all the writing has been erased. He is ready for a new day +and a new world. Thirty days of campaigning leaves him as strong and +fresh as ever. + +"Thirty days of campaigning leaves the old soldier a wreck. Why? +Because as a man grows older he loses the ability to sleep soundly. He +carries the nervous strain of one day over to the next. Life is a +serious problem to a man over thirty. To a man under thirty it is +simply a game. For my part, give me men who can play at war." + +So it was with Pierre le Rouge. He woke with a faint heaviness of +head, and stretched himself. There were many sore places, but nothing +more. He looked up, and the slant winter sun cut across his face and +made a patch of bright yellow on the wall beside him. + +Next he heard a faint humming, and, turning his head, saw a boy of +fourteen or perhaps a little more, busily cleaning a rifle in a way +that betokened the most expert knowledge of the weapon. Pierre himself +knew rifles as a preacher knows his Bible, and as he lay half awake and +half asleep he smiled with enjoyment to see the deft fingers move here +and there, wiping away the oil. A green hand will spend half a day +cleaning a gun, and then do the work imperfectly; an expert does the +job efficiently in ten minutes. This was an expert. + +Undoubtedly this was a true son of the mountain desert. He wore his +old slouch hat even in the house, and his skin was that olive brown +which comes from many years of exposure to the wind and sun. At the +same time there was a peculiar fineness about the boy. His feet were +astonishingly small and the hands thin and slender for all their supple +strength. And his neck was not bony, as it is in most youths at this +gawky age, but smoothly rounded. + +Men grow big of bone and sparse of flesh in the mountain desert. It +was the more surprising to Pierre to see this young fellow with the +marvelously delicate-cut features. By some freak of nature here was a +place where the breed ran to high blood. + +The cleaning completed, the boy tossed the butt of the gun to his +shoulder and squinted down the barrel. Then he loaded the magazine, +weighted the gun deftly at the balance, and dropped the rifle across +his knees. + +"Morning," said Pierre le Rouge cheerily, and swung off the bunk to the +floor. "How old's the gun?" + +The boy, without the slightest show of excitement, snapped the butt to +his shoulder and drew a bead on Pierre's breast. + +"Sit down before you get all heated up," said a musical voice. +"There's nobody waiting for you on horseback." + +And Pierre sat down, partly because Western men never argue a point +when that little black hole is staring them in the face, partly because +he remembered with a rush that the last time he had fully possessed his +consciousness he had been lying in the snow with the cross gripped hard +and the toppling mass of the landslide above him. All that had +happened between was blotted from his memory. He fumbled at his +throat. The cross was not there. He touched his pockets. + +"Ease your hands away from your hip," said the cold voice of the boy, +who had dropped his gun to the ready with a significant finger curled +around the trigger, "or I'll drill you clean." + +Pierre obediently raised his hands to the level of his shoulders. The +boy sneered, and a light of infinite scorn blazed into those great +black eyes. + +"This isn't a hold-up," he explained. "Put 'em down again, but watch +yourself." + +The sneer varied to a contemptuous smile. + +"I guess you're tame, all right." + +"Point that gun another way, will you, son?" + +The boy started and flushed a little. + +"Don't call me son." + +"Is this a lockup--a jail?" + +"This?" + +"What is it, then? The last I remember I was lying in the snow with--" + +"I wish to God you'd been let there," said the boy bitterly. + +But Pierre, overwhelmed with the endeavor to recollect, rushed on with +his questions and paid no heed to the tone. + +"I had a cross in my hand--" + +The scorn of the boy grew to mighty proportions. + +"It's there in the breast-pocket of your shirt." + +Pierre drew out the little cross, and the touch of it against his palm +restored whatever of his strength was lacking. Very carefully he +attached it to the chain about his throat. Then he looked up to the +contempt of the boy, and as he did so another memory burst on him and +brought him to his feet. The gun went to the boy's shoulders at the +same time. + +"When I was found--was any one else with me?" + +"Nope." + +"What happened?" + +"Must have been buried in the landslide. Half a hill caved in, and the +dirt rolled you down to the bottom. Plain luck, that's all, that kept +you from going out." + +"Luck?" said Pierre and he laid his hand against his breast where he +could feel the outline of the cross. "Yes, I suppose it was luck. And +she--" + +He sat down slowly and buried his face in his hands. A new tone came +in the voice of the boy. His tone was thrillingly gentle as he asked: +"Was a woman with you?" But Pierre heard only the tone and not the +words. His face was gray when he looked up again, and his voice hard. + +"Tell me as briefly as you can how I come here, and who picked me up." + +"My father and his men. They passed you lying on the snow. They +brought you home." + +"Who is your father?" + +The boy stiffened and his color rose in pride and defiance. + +"My father is Jim Boone." + +Instinctively, while he stared, the right hand of Pierre le Rouge crept +toward his hip. + +"Keep your hand steady," said the boy. "I got a nervous +trigger-finger. Yeh, dad is pretty well known." + +"You're his son?" + +"I'm Jack Boone." + +"But I've heard--tell me, do you look like your father?" + +Jack Boone smiled, strove to frown, and then burst into surprisingly +musical laughter. It came in bursts and ripples, and seemed that it +would never end. His merriment ended slowly, for he saw the eyes of +Pierre stare into blank distance, and knew that the man with the red +hair was thinking of the woman whom the landslide had buried. +Something that was partially sympathy and partially curiosity altered +Jack's expression. + +After all, it was very difficult to remain hostile in front of the +steady blue eyes of this stranger. + +Pierre said gravely: "Why am I under guard?" + +Jack was instantly aflame with the old anger. + +"Not because I want you here." + +"Who does?" + +"Dad." + +"Put away your pop-gun and talk sense. I won't try to get away until +Jim Boone comes. I only fight men." + +Even the anger and grief of the boy could not keep him from smiling in +his peculiarly winning way. + +"Just the same I'll keep the shooting-iron handy. Sit still. A gun +don't keep me from talking sense, does it? You're here to take Hal's +place. Hal!" + +The little wail told a thousand things, and Pierre, shocked out of the +thought of his own troubles, waited. + +"My brother, Hal; he's dead; he died last night, and on the way back +dad found you and brought you to take Hal's place. _Hal's_ place!" + +The accent showed how impossible it was that Hal's place could be taken +by any mortal man. + +"I got orders to keep you here, but if I was to do what I'd like to do, +I'd give you the best horse on the place and tell you to clear out. +That's me!" + +"Then do it." + +"And face dad afterward?" + +"Tell him I overpowered you. That would be easy; you a slip of a boy, +and me a man." + +"Stranger, it goes to show you may have heard of Jim Boone, but you +don't anyways know him. When he orders a thing done he wants it done, +and he don't care how, and he don't ask questions why. He just raises +hell." + +"He really expects to keep me here?" + +"Expects? He will." + +"Going to tie me up?" asked Pierre ironically. + +"Maybe," answered Jack, overlooking the irony. "Maybe he'll just put +you on my shoulders to guard." + +He moved the gun significantly. + +"And I can do it." + +"Of course. But he would have to let me go some time." + +"Not till you'd promised to stick by him. I told him that myself, but +he said that you're young and that he'd teach you to like this life +whether you wanted to or not. Me speaking personally, I agree with +Black Gandil: This is the worst fool thing that dad has ever done. +What do we want with you--in Hal's place!" + +And a suggestion of a sob came in Jack's voice, though he set his teeth +to keep it back. + +"But I've got a thing to do right away--to-day; it can't wait. + +"Give dad your word to come back and he'll let you go. He says you're +the kind that will keep your word. You see, he found you with a cross +in your hand." + +And Jack's lips curled again. + +It was all absurd, too impossible to be real. The only real things +were the body of white-handed, yellow-haired Mary Brown under the +tumbled rocks and dirt of the landslide, and the body of Martin Ryder +waiting to be placed in that corner plot where the grass grew quicker +than all other grass in the spring of the year. + +However, having fallen among madmen, he must use cunning to get away +before the outlaw and his men came back from wherever they had gone. +Otherwise there would be more bloodshed, more play of guns and hum of +lead. + +"Tell me of Hal," he said, and dropped his elbows on his knees as if he +accepted his fate. + +"Don't know you well enough to talk of Hal." + +"I'm sorry." + +The boy made a little gesture of apology. + +"I guess that was a low-down mean thing to say. Sure I'll tell you +about Hal--if I can." + +For his lips trembled at the thought of the dead. + +"Tell me anything you can," said Pierre gently, "because I've got to +try to be like him, haven't I?" + +"You could try till rattlers got tame, but it'd take ten like you to +make one like Hal. He was dad's own son--he was my brother." + +The sob came openly now, and the tears were a bright mist in the boy's +eyes. + +"What's your name?" + +"Pierre." + +"Pierre? I suppose I got to learn it." + +"I suppose so." And he edged farther forward, so that he was sitting +only on the edge of the bunk. + +"Please do." And he gathered his feet under him, ready for a spring +forward and a grip at the boy's threatening rifle. + +Jack had canted his head a little to one side, smiling faintly for the +joy of the memory. + +"Did you ever see a horse that was gentle and yet had never been +ridden, or his spirit broke, Pierre--" + +Here Pierre made his leap swift as some bobcat of the northern woods; +his hand whipped out as lightning fast as the striking paw of the lynx, +and the gun was jerked from the hands of Jack. Not before the boy +clutched at it with a cry of horror, but the force of the pull sent him +lurching to the floor and broke his grip. + +He was up in an instant, however, and a knife of ugly length glittered +in his hand; as he sprang at Pierre his lips were as white as the teeth +over which they snarled. + +Pierre tossed aside the rifle and met the attack bare-handed. Deadly +swift was the thrust of the knife, but compared with the motion of +Pierre it was as slow as tame things are when they are likened to the +wild. + +He caught the knife-bearing hand at the wrist and under his grip the +hand loosened its hold and the steel tinkled on the floor. His other +arm caught the body of Jack in a mighty vise. + +There was a brief and futile struggle, and a hissing of breath in the +silence till the hat tumbled from the head of Jack and down over the +shoulders streamed a torrent of silken black hair. + +Pierre stepped back. This was the meaning, then, of the strangely +small feet and hands and the low music of the voice. It was the body +of a girl that he had held, and his arm still tingled from the +finger-tips to the shoulder. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +JACK GROWS UP + +It was not fear nor shame that made the eyes of Jacqueline so wide as +she stared past Pierre toward the door. He glanced across his +shoulder, and blocking the entrance to the room, literally filling the +doorway, was the bulk of Jim Boone. + +"Seems as if I was sort of steppin' in on a little family party," he +said. "I'm sure glad you two got acquainted so quick. Jack, how did +you and-- What the hell's your name, lad?" + +"He tricked me, dad, or he would never have got the gun away from me. +This--this Pierre--this beast--he got me to talk of Hal till my eyes +filled up and I couldn't see. Then he stole----" + +"The point," said Jim Boone coldly, "is that he got the gun. Run +along, Jack. You ain't so growed up as I was thinkin'. Or hold +on--maybe you're more grown up. Which is it? Are you turnin' into a +woman, Jack?" + +She whirled on Pierre in a white fury. + +"You see? You see what you've done? He'll never trust me +again--never! Pierre, I hate you. I'll always hate you. And if Hal +were here----" + +A storm of sobs and tears cut her short, and she disappeared through +the door. Boone and Pierre stood regarding each other critically. + +The boy spoke first: "You're not as big as I expected." + +"I'm plenty big; but you're older than I thought." + +"Too old for what you want of me. The girl told me what that was." + +"Not too old to be made what I want." + +And his hands passed through a significant gesture of moulding the +empty air. The boy met his eye dauntlessly. + +"I suppose," he said, "that I've a pretty small chance of getting away." + +"Just about none, Pierre. Come here." + +Pierre stepped closer and looked down the hall into another room. +There, about a table, sat the five grimmest riders of the mountain +desert that he had even seen. They were such men as one could judge at +a glance, and Pierre made that instinctive motion for his six-gun. + +"The girl," Jim Boone was saying, "kept you pretty busy tryin' to make +a break, and if she could do anything maybe you'd have a pile of +trouble with one of them guardin' you. But if I'd had a good look at +you, lad, I'd never have let Jack take the job of guardin' you." + +"Thanks," answered Pierre dryly. + +"You got reason; I can see that. Here's the point, Pierre. I know +young men because I can remember pretty close what I was at your age. +I wasn't any ladies' lap dog, at that, but time and older men molded me +the way I'm going to mold you. Understand?" + +Pierre was nerved for many things, but the last word made him stir. It +roused in him a red-tinged desire to get through the forest of black +beard at the throat of Boone and dim the glitter of those keen eyes. +It brought him also another thought. + +Two great tasks lay before him: the burial of his father and the +avenging of him on McGurk. As to the one, he knew it would be childish +madness for him to attempt to bury his father in Morgantown with only +his single hand to hold back the powers of the law or the friends of +the notorious Diaz and crippled Hurley. + +And for the other, it was even more vain to imagine that through his +own unaided power he could strike down a figure of such almost +legendary terror as McGurk. The bondage of the gang might be a +terrible thing through the future, but the present need blinded him to +what might come. + +He said: "Suppose I stop raising questions or making a fight, but give +you my hand and call myself a member----" + +"Of the family? Exactly. If you did that I'd know it was because you +were wantin' something, Pierre, eh?" + +"Two things." + +"Lad, I like this way of talk. One--two--you hit quick like a two-gun +man. Well, I'm used to paying high for what I get. What's up?" + +"The first----" + +"Wait. Can I help you out by myself, or do you need the gang?" + +"The gang." + +"Then come, and I'll put it up to them. You first." + +It was equally courtesy and caution, and Pierre smiled faintly as he +went first through the door. He stood in a moment under the eyes of +five silent men. + +The booming voice of Jim Boone pronounced: + +"This is Pierre. He'll be one of us if he can get the gang to do two +things. I ask you, will you hear him for me, and then pass on whether +or not you try his game?" + +They nodded. There were no greetings to acknowledge the introduction. +They waited, eyeing the youth with distrust. + +Pierre eyed them in turn, and then he spoke directly to big Dick Wilbur. + +"Here's the first: I want to bury a man in Morgantown and I need help +to do it." + +Black Gandil snarled: "You heard me, boys; blood to start with. Who's +the man you want us to put out?" + +"He's dead--my father." + +They came up straight in their chairs like trained actors rising to a +stage crisis. The snarl straightened on the lips of Black Morgan +Gandil. + +"He's lying in his house a few miles out of Morgantown. As he died he +told me that he wanted to be buried in a corner plot in the Morgantown +graveyard. He'd seen the place and counted it for his a good many +years because he said the grass grew quicker there than any other +place, after the snow went." + +"A damned good reason," said Garry Patterson. As the idea stuck more +deeply into his imagination he smashed his fist down on the table so +that the crockery on it danced. "A damned good reason, say I!" + +"Who's your father?" asked Dick Wilbur, who eyed Pierre more critically +but with less enmity than the rest. + +"Martin Ryder." + +"A ringer!" cried Bud Mansie, and he leaned forward alertly. "You +remember what I said, Jim?" + +"Shut up. Pierre, talk soft and talk quick. We all know Mart Ryder +had only two sons and you're not either of them." + +The Northerner grew stiff and as his face grew pale the red mark where +the stone had struck his forehead stood out like a danger signal. + +He said slowly: "I'm his son, but not by the mother of those two." + +"Was he married twice?" + +Pierre was paler still, and there was an uneasy twitching of his right +hand which every man understood. + +He barely whispered. "No; damn you!" + +But Black Gandil loved evil. + +He said, with a marvelously unpleasant smile: "Then she was----" + +The voice of Dick Wilbur cut in like the snapping of a whip: "Shut up, +Gandil, you devil!" + +There were times when not even Boone would cross Wilbur, and this was +one of them. + +Pierre went on: "The reason I can't go to Morgantown is that I'm not +very well liked by some of the men there." + +"Why not?" + +"When my father died there was no money to pay for his burial. I had +only a half-dollar piece. I went to the town and gambled and won a +great deal. But before I came out I got mixed up with a man called +Hurley, a professional gambler." + +"And Diaz?" queried a chorus. + +"Yes. Hurley was hurt in the wrist and Diaz died. I think I'm wanted +in Morgantown." + +Out of a little silence came the voice of Black Gandil: "Dick, I'm +thankin' you now for cuttin' me so short a minute ago." + +Phil Branch had not spoken, as usual, but now he repeated, with rapt, +far-off eyes: "'Hurley was hurt in the wrist and Diaz died?' Hurley +and Diaz! I played with Hurley, a couple of times." + +"Speakin' personal," said Garry Patterson, his red verging toward +purple in excitement, "which I'm ready to go with you down to +Morgantown and bury your father." + +"And do it shipshape," added Black Gandil. + +"With all the trimmings," said Bud Mansie, "with all Morgantown joinin' +the mournin' voluntarily under cover of our six-guns." + +"Wait," said Boone. "What's the second request?" + +"That can wait." + +"It's a bigger job than this one?" + +"Lots bigger." + +"And in the mean time?" + +"I'm your man." + +They shook hands. Even Black Gandil rose to take his share in the +ceremony--all save Bud Mansie, who had glanced out the window a moment +before and then silently left the room. A bottle of whiskey was +produced and glasses filled all round. Jim Boone brought in the +seventh chair and placed it at the table. They raised their glasses. + +"To the empty chair," said Boone. + +They drank, and for the first time in his life, the liquid fire went +down the throat of Pierre. He set down his glass, coughing, and the +others laughed good-naturedly. + +"Started down the wrong way?" asked Wilbur. + +"It's beastly stuff; first I ever drank." + +A roar of laughter answered him. + +"Still I got an idea," broke in Jim Boone, "that he's worthy of takin' +the seventh chair. Draw it up lad." + +Vaguely it reminded Pierre of a scene in some old play with himself in +the role of the hero signing away his soul to the devil, but an +interruption kept him from taking the chair. There was a racket at the +door--a half-sobbing, half-scolding voice, and the laughter of a man; +then Bud Mansie appeared carrying Jack in spite of her struggles. He +placed her on the floor and held her hands to protect himself from her +fury. + +"I glimpsed her through the window," he explained. "She was lining out +for the stable and then a minute later I saw her swing a saddle +onto--what horse d'you think?" + +"Out with it." + +"Jim's big Thunder. Yep, she stuck the saddle on big black Thunder and +had a rifle in the holster. I saw there was hell brewing somewhere, so +I went out and nabbed her." + +"Jack!" called Jim Boone. "What were you started for?" + +Bud Mansie released her arms and she stood with them stiffening at her +sides and her small brown fists clenched. + +"Hal--he died, and there was nothing but talk about him--nothing done. +You got a live man in Hal's place." + +She pointed an accusing finger at Pierre. + +"Maybe he takes his place for you, but he's not my brother--I hate him. +I went out to get another man to make up for Pierre." + +"Well?" + +"A dead man. I shoot straight enough for that." + +A very solemn silence spread through the room; for every man was +watching in the eyes of the father and daughter the same shining black +devil of wrath. + +"Jack, get into your room and don't move out of it till I tell you to. +D'you hear?" + +She turned on her heel like a soldier and marched from the room. + +"Jack." + +She stopped in the door but would not turn back, and still the room, +watching that little tragedy, was breathless. + +"Jack, don't you love your old dad any more?" + +She whirled and ran to him with outstretched arms and clung to him, +sobbing. + +"Oh, dad--dear dad," she groaned. "You've broken my heart; you've +broken my heart!" + +The others filed softly out of the room and stood bareheaded under the +winter sky. + +Bud Mansie, his meager face transformed with wonder, said: "Fellers, +what d'you know about it? Our Jack's grown up." + +And Black Gandil answered: "Look at this Pierre frowning at the ground. +It was him that changed her." + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE BURIAL + +The annals of the mountain desert have never been written and can never +be written. They are merely a vast mass of fact and tradition and +imagining which floats from tongue to tongue from the Rockies to the +Sierra Nevadas. A man may be a fact all his life and die only a local +celebrity. Then again, he may strike sparks from that imagination +which runs riot by camp-fires and at the bars of the crossroads saloons. + +In that case he becomes immortal. It is not that lies are told about +him or impossible feats ascribed to him, but every detail about him is +seized upon and passed on with a most scrupulous and loving care. + +In due time he will become a tradition. That is, he will be known +familiarly at widely separated parts of the range, places which he has +never visited. It has happened to a few of the famous characters of +the mountain desert that they became traditions before their deaths. +It happened to McGurk, of course. It also happened to Red Pierre. + +Oddly enough, the tradition of Red Pierre did not begin with his ride +from the school of Father Victor to Morgantown, distant many days of +difficult and dangerous travel. Neither did tradition seize on the gun +fight that crippled Hurley and "put out" wizard Diaz. These things +were unquestionably known to many, but they did not strike the popular +imagination. What set men first on fire was the way Pierre le Rouge +buried his father "at the point of the gun" in Morgantown. + +That day Boone's men galloped out of the higher mountains down the +trail toward Morgantown. They stole a wagon out of a ranch stable on +the way and tied two lariats to the tongue. So they towed it, bounding +and rattling, over the rough trail to the house where Martin Ryder lay +dead. + +His body was placed in state in the body of the wagon, pillowed with +everything in the line of cloth which the house could furnish. Thus +equipped they went on at a more moderate pace toward Morgantown. + +What followed it is useless to repeat here. Tradition rehearsed every +detail of that day's work, and the purpose of this narrative is only to +give the details of some of the events which tradition does not know, +at least in their entirety. + +They started at one end of Morgantown's street. Pierre guarded the +wagon in the center of the street and kept the people under cover of +his rifle. The rest of Boone's men cleaned out the houses as they went +and sent the occupants piling out to swell the crowd. + +And so they rolled the crowd out of town and to the cemetery, where +"volunteers" dug the grave of Martin Ryder wide and deep, and Pierre +paid for the corner plot three times over in gold. + +Then a coffin--improvised hastily for the occasion out of a +packing-box--was lowered reverently, also by "volunteer" mourners, and +before the first sod fell on the dead, Pierre borrowed a long black +cloak from one of the women and wrapped himself in it, in lieu of the +robe of the priest, and raised over his head the crucifix of Father +Victor that brought good luck, and intoned a service in the purest +Ciceronian Latin, surely, that ever regaled the ears of Morgantown's +elect. + +The moment he raised that cross the bull throat of Jim Boone bellowed a +command, the poised guns of the gang enforced it, and all the crowd +dropped to their knees, leaving the six outlaws scattered about the +edges of the mob like sheep dogs around a folding flock, while in the +center stood Pierre with white, upturned face and the raised cross. + +So Martin Ryder was buried with "trimmings," and the gang rode back, +laughing and shouting, through the town and up into the safety of the +mountains. Election day was fast approaching and therefore the rival +candidates for sheriff hastily organized posses and made the usual +futile pursuit. + +In fact, before the pursuit was well under way, Boone and his men sat +at their supper table in the cabin. The seventh chair was filled; all +were present except Jack, who sulked in her room. Pierre went to her +door and knocked. He carried under his arm a package which he had +secured in the General Merchandise Store of Morgantown. + +"We're all waiting for you at the table," he explained. + +"Just keep on waiting," said the husky voice of Jacqueline. + +"If I leave the table will you come out?" + +She stammered: "Ye--n-no!" + +"Yes or no?" + +"No, no, no!" + +And he heard the stamp of her foot and smiled a little. + +"I've brought you a present." + +"I hate your presents!" + +"It's a thing you've wanted for a long time, Jacqueline." + +Only a stubborn silence. + +"I'm putting your door a little ajar." + +"If you dare to come in I'll--" + +"And I'm leaving the package right here at the entrance. I'm so sorry, +Jacqueline, that you hate me." + +And then he walked off down the hall--cunning Pierre--before she could +send her answer like an arrow after him. At the table he arranged an +eighth plate and drew up a chair before it. + +"If that's for Jack," remarked Dick Wilbur, "you're wasting your time. +I know her and I know her type. She'll never come out to the table +to-night--nor to-morrow, either. I know!" + +In fact, he knew a good deal too much about girls and women also, did +Wilbur, and that was why he rode the long trails of the mountain-desert +with Boone and his men. Far south and east in the Bahamas a great +mansion stood vacant because he was gone, and the dust lay thick on the +carpets and powdered the curtains and tapestries with a common gray. + +He had built it and furnished it for a woman he loved, and afterward +for her sake he had killed a man and fled from a posse and escaped in +the steerage of a west-bound ship. Still the law followed him, and he +kept on west and west until he reached the mountain-desert which thinks +nothing of swallowing men and their reputations. + +There he was safe, but some day he would see some woman smile, catch +the glimmer of some eye, and throw safety away to ride after her. + +It was a weakness, but what made a tragic figure of handsome Dick +Wilbur was that he knew his weakness and sat still and let fate walk up +and overtake him. + +Yet Pierre le Rouge answered this man of sorrowful wisdom: "In my part +of the country men say: 'If you would speak of women let money talk for +you.'" + +And he placed a gold piece on the table. + +"She will come out to the supper table." + +"She will not," smiled Wilbur, and covered the coin. "Will you take +odds?" + +"No charity. Who else will bet?" + +"I," said Jim Boone instantly. "You figure her for an ordinary sulky +kid." + +Pierre smiled upon him. + +"There's a cut in my shirt where her knife passed through; and that's +the reason that I'll bet on her now." + +The whole table covered his coin, with laughter. + +"We've kept one part of your bargain, Pierre. We've seen your father +buried in the corner plot. Now, what's the second part?" + +"I don't know you well enough to ask you that," said Pierre. + +They plied him with suggestions. + +"To rob the Berwin Bank?" + +"Stick up a train?" + +"No. That's nothing." + +"Round up the sheriffs from here to the end of the mountains?" + +"Too easy." + +"Roll all those together," said Pierre, "and you'll begin to get an +idea of what I'll ask." + +Then a low voice called from the black throat of the hall "Pierre!" + +The others were silent, but Pierre winked at them, and made great +flourish with knife and fork against his plate as if to cover the sound +of Jacqueline's voice. + +"Pierre!" she called again. "I've come to thank you." + +He jumped up and turned toward the hall. + +"Do you like it?" + +"It's a wonder!" + +"Then we're friends?" + +"If you want to be." + +"There's nothing I want more. Then you'll come out and have supper +with us, Jack?" + +"Pierre--" + +"Yes?" + +"I'm ashamed. I've been acting like a silly kid." + +"But we're waiting for you." + +There was a little pause, and then Jim Boone struck his fist on the +table and cursed, for she stepped from the darkness into the flaring +light of the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +A TALE OF THE SLEDGE + +She wore a cartridge belt slung jauntily across her hips and from it +hung a holster of stiff new leather with the top flap open to show the +butt of a man-sized forty-five caliber six-shooter--her first gun. Not +a man of the gang but had loaned her his guns time and again, but they +had never dreamed of giving the child a weapon of her own. + +So they stared at her agape, where she stood with her head back, one +slender hand resting on her hip, one hovering about the butt of the +gun, as if she challenged them to question her right to be called "man." + +It was as if she abandoned all claims to femininity with that single +step; the gun at her side made her seem inches taller and years older. +She was no longer a child, but a long-rider who could back any horse on +the range and shoot with the best. + +One glance she cast about the room to drink in the amazement of the +gang, and then with a profound instinct guiding her, she picked out the +best critic in the room and said to him with a frown: "Well, Dick, +how's it hang?" + +The big man was as flushed as the girl. + +"Hangs like a charm," he said, "a charm that 'll be apt to make men +step about." + +And her father broke in rather hoarsely: "Sit down, girl. Sit down and +be one of us. One of us you are by your own choice from this day on. +You're neither man nor woman, but a long-rider with every man's hand +against you. You've done with any hope of a home or of friends. +You're one of us. Poor Jack--my girl!" + +"Poor?" she returned. "Not while I can make a quick draw and shoot +straight." + +And then she swept the circle of eyes, daring them to take her boast +lightly, but they knew her too well, and were all solemnly silent. At +this she relented somewhat, and went directly to Pierre, flushing from +throat to hair. She held out her hand. + +"Will you shake and call it square?" + +"I sure will," nodded Pierre. + +"And we're pals--you and me, like the rest of 'em?" + +"We are." + +"Shake again." + +She took the place beside him. + +Garry Patterson was telling how he had said farewell to a Swedish +sweetheart, and the roar of laughter took the eyes away from Jacqueline +for a moment. So she leaned to Pierre le Rouge and whispered at his +ear: "Pierre you've made me the happiest fellow on the range." + +As the whisky went round after round and the fun waxed higher the two +seemed shut away from the others; they were younger, less touched and +marked by life; they listened while the others talked, and now and then +exchanged glances of interest or aversion. + +"Listen," she said after a time, "I've heard this story before." + +It was Phil Branch, square-built and square of jaw, who was talking. + +"There's only one thing I can handle better than a gun, and that's a +sledge-hammer. A gun is all right in its way, but for work in a crowd, +well, give me a hammer and I'll show you a way out." + +Bud Mansie grinned: "Leave me my pair of sixes and you can have all the +hammers between here and Central Park in a crowd. There's nothing +makes a crowd remember its heels like a pair of barking sixes." + +"Ah, ah!" growled Branch. "But when they've heard bone crunch under +the hammer there's nothing will hold them." + +"I'd have to see that." + +"Maybe you will, Bud, maybe you will. It was the hammer that started +me for the long trail west. I had a big Scotchman in the factory who +couldn't learn how to weld. I'd taught him day after day and cursed +him and damn near prayed for him. But he somehow wouldn't learn--the +swine--ah, ah!" + +He grew vindictively black at the memory. + +"Every night he wiped out what I'd taught him during the day and the +eraser he used was booze. So one fine day I dropped the hammer after +watchin' him make a botch on a big bar, and cussed him up one leg and +down the other. The Scotchman had a hang-over from the night before +and he made a pass at me. It was too much for me just then, for the +day was hot and the forge fire had been spitting cinders in my face all +morning. So I took him by the throat." + +He reached out and closed his taut fingers slowly. + +"I didn't mean nothin' by it, but after a man has been moldin' iron, +flesh is pretty weak stuff. When I let go of Scotchy he dropped on the +floor, and while I stood starin' down at him somebody seen what had +happened and spread the word. + +"I wasn't none too popular, bein' not much on talk, so the boys got +together and pretty soon they come pilin' through the door at me, +packin' everything from hatchets to crowbars. + +"Lads, I was sorry about Scotchy, but after I glimpsed that gang comin' +I wasn't sorry for nothing. I felt like singin', though there wasn't +no song that could say just what I meant. But I grabbed up the big +fourteen-pound hammer and met 'em half-way. + +"The first swing of the hammer it met something hard, but not as hard +as iron. The thing crunched with a sound like an egg under a heavy +man's heel. And when that crowd heard it they looked sick. God, how +sick they looked! They didn't wait for no second swing, but they beat +it hard and fast through the door with me after 'em. They scattered, +but I kept right on and didn't never really stop till I reached the +mountain-desert and you, Jim." + +"Which is a good yarn," said Bud Mansie, "but I can tell you one that +'ll cap it. It was----" + +He stopped short, staring up at the door. Outside, the wind had kept +up a perpetual roaring, and no one noticed the noise of the opening +door. Bud Mansie, facing that door, however, turned a queer yellow and +sat with his lips parted on the last word. He was not pretty to see. +The others turned their heads, and there followed the strangest panic +which Pierre had even seen. + +Jim Boone jerked his hand back to his hip, but stayed the motion, half +completed, and swung his hands stiffly above his head. Garry Patterson +sat with his eyes blinked shut, pale, waiting for death to come. Dick +Wilbur rose, tall and stiff, and stood with his hands gripped at his +sides, and Black Morgan Gandil clutched at the table before him and his +keen eyes wandered swiftly about the room, seeking a place for escape. + +There was only one sound, and that was a whispering moan of terror from +Jacqueline. Only Pierre made no move, yet he felt as he had when the +black mass of the landslide loomed above him. + +What he saw in the door was a man of medium size and almost slender +build. In spite of the patch of gray hair at either temple he was only +somewhere between twenty-five and thirty. But to see him was to forget +all details except the strangest face which Pierre had ever seen or +would ever look upon in all his career. + +It was pale, with a pallor strange to the ranges; even the lips seemed +bloodless, and they curved with a suggestion of a smile that was a +nervous habit rather than any sign of mirth. The nerves of the left +eye were also affected, and the lid dropped and fluttered almost shut, +so that he had to carry his head far back in order to see plainly. +There was such indomitable pride and scorn in the man that his name +came up to the lips of Pierre: "McGurk." + +A surprisingly gentle voice said: "Jim, I'm sorry to drop in on you +this way, but I've had some unpleasant news." + +His words dispelled part of the charm. The hands of big Boone lowered; +the others assumed more natural positions, but each, it seemed to +Pierre, took particular and almost ostentatious care that their right +hands should be always far from the holsters of their guns. + +The stranger went on: "Martin Ryder is finished, as I suppose you know. +He left a spawn of two mongrels behind him. I haven't bothered with +them, but I'm a little more interested in another son that has cropped +up. He's sitting over there in your family party and his name is +Pierre. In his own country they call him Pierre le Rouge, which means +Red Pierre, in our talk. + +"You know I don't like to be dictatorial, and I've never crossed you in +anything before, Jim. Have I?" + +Boone moistened his white lips and answered: "Never," huskily, as if it +were a great muscular effort for him to speak. + +"This time I have to break the custom. Boone, this fellow Pierre has +to leave the country. Will you see that he goes?" + +The lips of Boone moved and made no sound. + +He said at length: "McGurk, I'd rather cross the devil than cross you. +There's no shame in admitting that. But I've lost my boy, Hal." + +"Too bad, Jim. I knew Hal; at a distance, of course." + +"And Pierre is filling Hal's place in the family." + +"Is that your answer?" + +"McGurk, are you going to pin me down in this?" + +And here Jack whirled and cried: "Dad, you won't let Pierre go!" + +"You see?" pleaded Boone. + +It was uncanny and horrible to see the giant so unnerved before this +stranger, but that part of it did not come to Pierre until later. Now +he felt a peculiar emptiness of stomach and a certain jumping chill +that traveled up and down his spine. Moreover, he could not move his +eyes from the face of McGurk, and he knew at length that this was +fear--the first real fear that he had ever known. + +Shame made him hot, but fear made him cold again. He knew that if he +rose his knees would buckle under him; that if he drew out his revolver +it would slip from his palsied fingers. For the fear of death is a +mighty fear, but it is nothing compared with the fear of man. + +"I've asked you a question," said McGurk. "What's your answer?" + +There was a quiver in the black forest of Boone's beard, and if Pierre +was cold before, he was sick at heart to see the big man cringe before +McGurk. + +He stammered: "Give me time." + +"Good," said McGurk. "I'm afraid I know what your answer would be now, +but if you take a couple of days you will think things over and come to +a reasonable conclusion. I will be at Gaffney's place about fifteen +miles from here. You know it? Send your answer there. In the mean +time"--he stepped forward to the table and poured a small drink of +whiskey into a glass and raised it high--"here's to the long health and +happiness of us all. Drink!" + +There was a hasty pouring of liquor. + +"And you also!" + +Pierre jumped as if he had been struck, and obeyed the order hastily. + +"So," said the master, pleasant again, and Pierre wiped his forehead +furtively and stared up with fascinated eyes. "An unwilling pledge is +better than none at all. To you, gentleman, much happiness; to you, +Pierre le Rouge, _bon voyage_." + +They drank; the master placed his glass on the table again, smiled upon +them, and was gone through the door. He turned his back in leaving. +There was no fitter way in which he could have expressed his contempt. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +MCGURK + +The mirth died and in its place came a long silence. Jim Boone stared +upon Pierre with miserable eyes, and then rose and left the room. The +others one by one followed his example. Dick Wilbur in passing dropped +his hand on Pierre's shoulder. Jacqueline was silent. + +As he sat there minute after minute and then hour after hour of the +long night Pierre saw the meaning of it. If they sent word that they +would not give up Pierre it was war, and war with McGurk had only one +ending. If they sent word that Pierre was surrendered the shame would +never leave Boone and his men. + +Whatever they did there was ruin for them in the end. All this Pierre +conned slowly in his mind, until he was cold. Then he looked up and +saw that the lamp had burned out and that the wood in the fireplace was +consumed to a few red embers. + +He replenished the fire, and when the yellow flames began to mount he +made his resolution and walked slowly up and down the floor with it. +For he knew that he must go to meet McGurk. + +The very thought of the man sent the old chill through his blood, yet +he must go and face him and end the thing. + +It came over him with a pang that he was very young; that life was +barely a taste in his mouth, whether bitter or sweet he could not tell. +He picked a flaming stick from the fire and went before a little round +mirror on the wall. + +Back at him stared the face of a boy. He had seen so much of the grim +six in the last day that the contrast startled him. They were men, +hardened to life and filled with knowledge of it. They were books +written full and ready to be ended. But he? He was a blank page with +a scribbled word here and there. Nevertheless, he was chosen and he +must go. + +Having reached that decision he closed his mind on what would happen. +There was a vague fear that when he faced McGurk he would be unmanned +again and frozen with fear; that his spirit would be broken and he +would become a thing too despicable for a man to kill. + +One thing was certain: if he was to act a man's part and die a man's +death he must not stand long before McGurk. It seemed to him then that +he would die happy if he had the strength to fire one shot before the +end. + +Then he tiptoed from the house and went over the snow to the barn and +saddled the horse of Hal Boone. It was already morning, and as he led +the horse to the door of the barn a shadow, a faint shadow in that +early light, fell across the snow before him. + +He looked up and saw Jacqueline. She stepped close, and the horse +nosed her shoulder affectionately. + +She said: "Isn't there anything that will keep you from going?" + +"It's just a little ride before breakfast. I'll be back in an hour." + +It was foolish to try to blind her, as he saw by her wan, unchildish +smile. + +"Is there no other way, Pierre?" + +"I don't know of any, do you?" + +"You have to leave us, and never come back?" + +"Is he as sure as that, Jack?" + +"Sure? Who?" + +She had not known, after all; she thought that he was merely riding +away from the region where McGurk was king. Now she caught his wrists +and shook them. + +"Pierre, you are not going to face McGurk? Pierre!" + +It was sweet and bitter-sweet that the child should wish him to stay, +and it made the heart of Pierre old and stern to look down on her. + +"If you were a man, you would understand." + +"I know; because of your father. I do understand, but oh, Pierre, it +makes me so unhappy--so terribly sad, Pierre." + +Inspiration made her catch her breath. + +"Listen! I can shoot as straight as almost any man. We will ride down +together. We will go through the doors together--me first to take his +fire, and you behind to shoot him down." + +"I guess no man can be as brave as a woman, Jack. No; I have to see +McGurk alone. He faced my father alone and shot him down. I'll face +McGurk alone and live long enough to put my mark on him." + +"But you don't know him. He can't be hurt. Do you think my father +and--and Dick Wilbur would fear any man who could be hurt? No, but +McGurk has been in a hundred fights and never been touched. There's a +charm over him, don't you see?" + +"I'll break the charm, that's all." + +"You're only a boy, Pierre." + +"I, also, carry a charm with me. Good-by." + +He was up in the saddle. + +"Then I'll call dad--I'll call them all--if you die they shall all +follow you. I swear they shall, Pierre!" + +He merely leaned forward and touched the horse with his spurs, but +after he had raced the first hundred yards he glanced back. She was +running hard for the house, and calling as she went. Pierre cursed and +spurred the horse again. + +Yet even if Jim Boone and his men started out after him they could +never overtake him. Before they were in their saddles and up with him, +he'd be a full three miles out in the hills. Not even black Thunder +could make up as much ground as that. + +So all the fifteen miles to Gaffney's place he urged his horse. The +excitement of the race kept the thought of McGurk back in his mind. +Only once he lost time when he had to pull up beside a buckboard and +inquire the way. After that he flew on again. Yet as he clattered up +to the door of Gaffney's crossroads saloon and swung to the ground he +looked back and saw a cluster of horsemen swing around the shoulder of +a hill and come tearing after him. Surely his time was short. + +He thrust open the door of the place and called for a drink. The +bartender spun the glass down the bar to him. + +"Where's McGurk?" + +The other stopped in the very act of taking out the bottle from the +shelf, and his curious glance went over the face of Pierre le Rouge. +He decided, apparently, that it was foolish to hold suspicions against +so young a man. + +"In that room," and he jerked his hand toward a door. "What do you +want with him?" + +"Got a message for him." + +"Tell it to me, and I'll pass it along." + +Pierre met the eye of the other and smiled faintly. + +"Not _this_ message." + +"Oh," said the other, and then shouted: "McGurk!" + +Far away came the rush of hoofs over a hard trail. Only a minute more +and they would be here; only a minute more and the room would be full +of fighting men ready to die with him and for him. Yet Pierre was +glad; glad that he could meet the danger alone; ten minutes from now, +if he lived, he could answer certainly one way or the other the +greatest of all questions: "Am I a man?" + +Out of the inner room the pleasant voice which he dreaded answered: +"What's up?" + +The barkeeper glanced Pierre le Rouge over again and then answered: "A +friend with a message." + +The door opened and framed McGurk. He did not start, seeing Pierre. + +He said: "None of the rest of them had the guts even to bring me the +message, eh?" + +Pierre shrugged his shoulders. It was a mighty effort, but he was able +to look his man fairly in the eyes. + +"All right, lad. How long is it going to take you to clear out of the +country?" + +"That's not the message," answered a voice which Pierre did not +recognize as his own. + +"Out with it, then." + +"It's in the leather on my hip." + +And he went for his gun. Even as he started his hand he knew that he +was too slow for McGurk, yet the finest split-second watch in the world +could not have caught the differing time they needed to get their guns +out of the holsters. + +Just a breath before Pierre fired there was a stunning blow on his +right shoulder and another on his hip. He lurched to the floor, his +revolver clattering against the wood as he fell, but falling, he +scooped up the gun with his left and twisted. + +That movement made the third shot of McGurk fly wide and Pierre fired +from the floor and saw a spasm of pain contract the face of the outlaw. + +Instantly the door behind him flew open and Boone's men stormed into +the room. Once more McGurk fired, but his wound made his aim wide and +the bullet merely tore up a splinter beside Pierre's head. A fusillade +from Boone and his men answered, but the outlaw had leaped back through +the door. + +"He's hurt," thundered Boone. "By God, the charm of McGurk is broken. +Dick, Bud, Gandil, take the outside of the place. I'll force the door." + +Wilbur and the other two raced through the door and raised a shout at +once, and then there was a rattle of shots. Big Patterson leaned over +Pierre. + +He said in an awe-stricken voice: "Lad, it's a great work that you've +done for all of us, if you've drawn the blood from McGurk." + +"His left shoulder," said Pierre, and smiled in spite of his pain. + +"And you, lad?" + +"I'm going to live; I've got to finish the job. Who's that beside you? +There's a mist over my eyes." + +"It's Jack. She outrode us all." + +Then the mist closed over the eyes of Pierre and his senses went out in +the dark. + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +GOLD HAIR + +Those who are curious about the period which followed during which the +title "Le Rouge" was forgotten and he became known only as "Red" Pierre +through all the mountain-desert, can hear the tales of his doing from +the analists of the ranges. This story has to do only with his +struggle with McGurk, and must end where that struggle ended. + +The gap of six years which occurs here is due to the fact that during +that period McGurk vanished from the mountain-desert. He died away +from the eyes of men and in their minds he became that tradition which +lives still so vividly, the tradition of the pale face, the sneering, +bloodless lips, and the hand which never failed. + +During this lapse of time there were many who claimed that he had +ridden off into some lonely haunt and died of the wound which he +received from Pierre's bullet. A great majority, however, would never +accept such a story, and even when the six years had rolled by they +still shook their heads and "had their doubt on the matter" like +_Wouter Van Twiller_ of immortal memory. + +They awaited his return just as certain stanch old Britons await the +second coming of Arthur from the island of Avalon. In the mean time +the terror of his name passed on to him who had broken the "charm" of +McGurk. + +Not all that grim significance passed on to "Red" Pierre, indeed, +because he never impressed the public imagination as did the terrible +ruthlessness of McGurk. At that he did enough to keep tongues wagging. + +Cattlemen loved to tell those familiar exploits of the "two sheriffs," +or that "thousand-mile pursuit of Canby," with its half-tragic, +half-humorous conclusion, or the "Sacking of Two Rivers," or the +"three-cornered battle" against Rodriguez and Blond. + +But men could not forget that in all his work there rode behind Red +Pierre six dauntless warriors of the mountain-desert, while McGurk had +been always a single hand against the world, a veritable lone wolf. + +Whatever kept him away through those six years, the memory of the wound +he received at Gaffney's place never left McGurk, and now he was coming +back with a single great purpose in his mind, and in his heart a +consuming hatred for Pierre and all the other of Boone's men. + +Certainly if he had sensed the second coming of McGurk, Pierre would +not have ridden so jauntily through the hills this day, or whistled so +carelessly, or swept the hills with such a complacent, lordly eye. A +man of mark cannot bear himself too modestly, and Pierre, from boots to +high-peaked, broad-brimmed sombrero, was the last word in elegance for +a rider of the mountain-desert. + +Even his mount seemed to sense the pride of his master. It was a +cream-colored mustang, not one of the lump-headed, bony-hipped species +common to the ranges, but one of those rare reversions to the Spanish +thoroughbreds from which the Western cow-pony is descended. The mare +was not over-large, but the broad hips and generous expanse of chest +were hints, and only hints, of her strength and endurance. There was +the speed of the blooded racer in her and the tirelessness of the +mustang. + +Now, down the rocky, half broken trail she picked her way as daintily +as any debutante tiptoeing down a great stairway to the ballroom. Life +had been easy for Mary since that thousand-mile struggle to overtake +Canby, and now her sides were sleek from good feeding and some casual +twenty miles a day, which was no more to her than a canter through the +park is to the city horse. + +The eye which had been so red-stained and fierce during the long ride +after Canby was now bright and gentle. At every turn she pricked her +small sharp ears as if she expected home and friends on the other side +of the curve. And now and again she tossed her head and glanced back +at the master for a moment and then whinnied across some echoing ravine. + +It was Mary's way of showing happiness, and her master's acknowledgment +was to run his gloved left hand up through her mane and with his +ungloved right, that tanned and agile hand, pat her shoulder lightly. + +Passing to the end of the down-grade, they reached a slight upward +incline, and the mare, as if she had come to familiar ground, broke +into a gallop, a matchless, swinging stride. Swerving to right and to +left among the great boulders, like a football player running a broken +field, she increased the gallop to a racing pace. + +That twisting course would have shaken an ordinary horseman to the +toes, but Pierre, swaying easily in the saddle, dropped the reins into +the crook of his left arm and rolled a cigarette in spite of the motion +and the wind. It was a little feat, but it would have drawn applause +from a circus crowd. + +He spoke to the mare while he lighted a match and she dropped to an +easy canter, the pace which she could maintain from dawn to dark, +eating up the gray miles of the mountain and the desert, and it was +then that Red Pierre heard a gay voice singing in the distance. + +His attitude changed at once. He caught a shorter grip on the reins +and swung forward a little in the saddle, while his right hand touched +the butt of the revolver in its holster and made sure that it was +loose; for to those who hunt and are hunted every human voice in the +mountain-desert is an ominous token. + +The mare, sensing the change of her master through that weird +telegraphy which passed down the taut bridle reins, held her head high +and flattened her short ears against her neck. + +The song and the singer drew closer, and the vigilence of Pierre ceased +as he heard a mellow barytone ring out: + + "They call me poor, yet I am rich + In the touch of her golden hair, + My heart is filled like a miser's hands + With the red-gold of her hair. + The sky I ride beneath all day + Is the blue of her dear eyes; + The only heaven I desire + Is the blue of her dear eyes." + + +And here Dick Wilbur rode about the shoulder of a hill, broke off his +song at the sight of Pierre le Rouge, and shouted a welcome. They came +together and continued their journey side by side. The half-dozen +years had hardly altered the blond, handsome face of Wilbur, and now, +with the gladness of his singing still flushing his face, he seemed +hardly more than a boy--younger, in fact, than Red Pierre, into whose +eyes there came now and then a grave sternness. + +"After hearing that song," said Pierre smiling, "I feel as if I'd +listened to a portrait." + +"Right!" said Wilbur, with unabated enthusiasm. "It's the bare and +unadorned truth, Prince Pierre. My fine _Galahad_, if you came within +eye-shot of her there'd be a small-sized hell raised." + +"No. I'm immune there, you know." + +"Nonsense. The beauty of a really lovely woman is like a fine perfume. +It strikes right to a man's heart; there's no possibility of +resistance. I know. You, Pierre, act like a man already in love or a +boy who has never known a woman. Which is it, Pierre?" + +The other made a familiar gesture with those who knew him, a touching +of his left hand against his throat where the cross lay. + +He said: "I suppose it seems like that to you." + +"Like what? Dodging me, eh? Well, I never press the point, but I'd +give the worth of your horse, Pierre, to see you and Mary together." + +Red Pierre started, and then frowned. + +"Irritates you a little, eh? Well, a woman is like a spur to most men." + +He added, with a momentary gloom: "God knows, I bear the marks of 'em." + +He raised his head, as if he looked up in response to his thought. + +"But there's a difference with this girl. I've named the quality of +her before--a fragrance, you know, that disarms a man, and like a +fragrance there's just a touch of melancholy about her and an appeal +that follows after you when she's gone." + +Pierre looked to his friend with some alarm, for there was a saying +among the followers of Boone that a woman would be the downfall of big +Dick Wilbur again, as a woman had been his downfall before. The +difference would be that this fall must be his last. + +And Wilbur went on: "She's Eastern, Pierre, and out here visiting the +daughter of old Barnes who owns about a thousand miles of range, you +know. How long will she be here? That's the question I'm trying to +answer for her. I met her riding over the hills--she was galloping +along a ridge, and she rode her way right into my heart. Well, I'm a +fool, of course, but about this girl I can't be wrong. To-night I'm +taking her to a masquerade." + +He pulled his horse to a full stop. + +"Pierre, you have to come with me." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +ENNUI + +Pierre stared at his companion with almost open-mouthed astonishment. + +"I? A dance?" + +And then his head tilted back and he laughed. + +"My good times, Dick, come out of the hills and the sky-line, and the +gallop of Mary. But as for women, they bore me, Dick." + +"Even Jack?" + +"She's more man than woman." + +It was the turn of Wilbur to laugh, and he responded uproariously until +Pierre frowned and flushed a little. + +"When I see you out here on your horse with your rifle in the boot and +your six-gun swinging low in the scabbard, and riding the fastest bit +of horse-flesh on the ranges," explained Wilbur, "I get to thinking +that you're pretty much king of the mountains; but in certain respects, +Pierre, you're a child. Ha, ha, ha! a regular infant." + +Pierre stirred uneasily in his saddle. A man must be well over thirty +before he can withstand ridicule. + +He said dryly: "I've an idea that I know Jack about as well as the next +man." + +"Let it drop," said Wilbur, sober again, for he shared with all of +Boone's crew a deep-rooted unwillingness to press Red Pierre beyond a +certain point. "The one subject I won't quarrel about is Jack, God +bless her." + +"She's the best pal," said Pierre soberly, "and the nearest to a man +I've ever met." + +"Nearest to a man?" queried Wilbur, and smiled, but so furtively that +even the sharp eye of Red Pierre did not perceive the mockery. He went +on: + +"But the dance, what of that? It's a masquerade. There'd be no fear +of being recognized." + +Pierre was silent a moment more. Then he said: + +"This girl--what did you call her?" + +"Mary." + +"And about her hair--I think you said it was black?" + +"Golden, Pierre." + +"Mary, and golden hair," mused Red Pierre. "I think I'll go to that +dance." + +"With Jack? She dances wonderfully, you know." + +"Well--with Jack." + +So they reached a tumbled ranch-house squeezed between two hills so +that it was sheltered from the storms of the winter but held all the +heat of the summer. + +Once it had been a goodly building, the home of some cattle-king. But +bad times had come. + +A bullet in a saloon brawl put an end to the cattle king, and now his +home was a wreck of its former glory. The northern wing shelved down +to the ground as if the building were kneeling to the power of the +wind, and the southern portion of the house, though still erect, seemed +tottering and rotten throughout and holding together until at a final +blow the whole structure would crumple at once. + +To the stables, hardly less ruinous than the big house, Pierre and +Wilbur took their horses, and a series of whinnies greeted them from +the stalls. To look down that line of magnificent heads raised above +the partitions of the stalls was like glancing into the stud of some +crowned head who made hunting and racing his chief end in life, for +these were animals worthy of the sport of kings. + +They were chosen each from among literal hundreds and thousands, and +they were cared for far more tenderly than the masters cared for +themselves. There was a reason in it, for upon their speed and +endurance depended the life of the outlaw. Moreover, the policy of Jim +Boone was one of actual "long riding." + +Here he had come to a pause for a few days to recuperate his horses and +his men. To-morrow, perhaps, he would be on the spur again and +sweeping off to a distant point in the mountain desert to strike and be +gone again before the rangers knew well that he had been there. Very +rarely did one settler have another neighbor at a distance of less than +two hundred miles. It meant arduous and continual riding, and a horse +with any defect was worse than useless because the speed of the gang +had to be the speed of the slowest horse in the lot. + +It was some time before the two long riders had completed the grooming +of their horses and had gone down the hill and into the house. In the +largest habitable room they found a fire fed with rotten timbers from +the wrecked portion of the building, and scattered through the room a +sullen and dejected group: Mansie, Branch, Jim Boone, and Black Morgan +Gandil. + +At a glance it was easy to detect their malady; it was the horrible +ennui which comes to men who are always surrounded by one set of faces. +If a man is happily married he may bear with his wife and his children +constantly through long stretches of time, but the glamour of life lies +in the varying personalities which a man glimpses in passing, but never +knows. + +This was a rare crew. Every man of them was marked for courage and +stamina and wild daring. Yet even so in their passive moments they +hated each other with a hate that passed the understanding of common +men. + +Through seven years they had held together, through fair weather and +foul, and now each knew from the other's expression the words that were +about to be spoken, and each knew that the other was reading him, and +loathing what he read. + +So they were apt to relapse into long silences unless Jack was with +them, for being a woman her variety was infinite, or Pierre le Rouge, +whom all except Black Gandil loved and petted, and feared. + +They were a battered crowd. Wind and hard weather and a thousand suns +had marked them, and the hand of man had branded them. Here and there +was a touch of gray in their hair, and about the mouth of each were +lines which in such silent moments as this one gave an expression of +infinite and wistful yearning. + +"What's up? What's wrong?" asked Wilbur from the door, but since no +answer was deigned he said no more. + +But Pierre, like a charmed man who dares to walk among lions, strolled +easily through the room, and looked into the face of big Boone, who +smiled faintly up to him, and Black Gandil, who scowled doubly dark, +and Bud Mansie, who shifted uneasily in his chair and then nodded, and +finally to Branch. He dropped a hand on the massive shoulder of the +blacksmith. + +"Well?" he asked. + +Branch let himself droop back into his chair. His big, dull, colorless +eyes stared up to his friend. + +"I dunno, lad. I'm just weary with the sort of tired that you can't +help by sleepin'. Understand?" + +Pierre nodded, slowly, because he sympathized. "And the trouble?" + +Branch stared about as if searching for a reason. + +"Jack's up-stairs sulking; Patterson hasn't come home yet." + +And Black Gandil, who heard all things, said without looking up: "A man +that saves a ship-wrecked fellow, he gets bad luck for thanks." + +Pierre turned a considering eye on him, and Gandil scowled back. + +"You've been croaking for six years, Morgan, about the bad luck that +would come to Jim from saving me out of the snow. It's never happened, +has it?" + +Gandil, snarling from one side of his mouth, answered: "Where's +Patterson?" + +"Am I responsible if the blockhead has got drunk some place?" + +"Patterson doesn't get drunk--not that way. And he knows that we were +to start again to-day." + +"There ain't no doubt of that," commented Branch. + +"It's the straight dope. Patterson keeps his dates," said Bud Mansie. + +The booming bass of Jim Boone broke in: "Shut up, the whole gang of +you. We've had luck for the six years Pierre has been with us. Who +calls him a Jonah?" + +And Black Gandil answered: "I do. I've sailed the seas. I know bad +luck when I see it." + +"You've been seeing it for six years." + +"The worst storms come on a voyage that starts with fair weather. +Patterson? He's gone; he ain't just delayed; he's gone." + +It was not the first of these gloomy prophecies which Gandil had made, +but each time a heavy gloom broke over Red Pierre. For when he summed +up the good fortune which the cross of Father Victor had brought him, +he found that he had gained a father, and lost him at their first +meeting; and he had won money on that night of the gambling, but it had +cost the life of another man almost at once. The horse which carried +him away from the vengeance in Morgantown had died on the way and he +had been saved from the landslide, but the girl had perished. + +He had driven McGurk from the ranges, and where would the penalty fall +on those who were near and dear to him? In a superstitious horror he +had asked himself the question a thousand times, and finally he could +hardly bear to look into the ominous, brooding eyes of Black Gandil. +It was as if the man had a certain and evil knowledge of the future. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +BLACK GANDIL + +The knowledge of the torment he was inflicting made the eye of Black +Gandil bright with triumph. + +He continued, and now every man in the room was sitting up, alert, with +gloomy eyes fixed upon Pierre: "Patterson is the first, but he ain't +the last. He's just the start. Who's next?" He looked slowly around. + +"Is it you, Bud, or you, Phil, or you, Jim, or maybe me?" + +And Pierre said: "What makes you think you know that trouble's coming, +Morgan?" + +"Because my blood runs cold in me when I look at you." + +Red Pierre grew rigid and straightened in a way they knew. + +"Damn you, Gandil, I've borne with you and your croaking too long, d'ye +hear? Too long, and I'll hear no more of it, understand?" + +"Why not? You'll hear from me every time I sight you in the offing. +You c'n lay to that!" + +The others were tense, ready to spring for cover, but Boone reared up +his great figure. + +"Don't answer him, Pierre. You, Gandil, shut your face or I'll break +ye in two." + +The fierce eyes of Pierre le Rouge never wavered from his victim, but +he answered: "Keep out of this. This is my party. I'll tell you why +you'll stop gibbering, Gandil." + +He made a pace forward and every man shrank a little away from him. + +"Because the cold in your blood is part hate and more fear, Black +Gandil." + +The eyes of Gandil glared back for an instant. With all his soul he +yearned for the courage to pull his gun, but his arm was numb; he could +not move it, and his eyes wavered and fell. + +The shaggy gray head of Jim Boone fell likewise, and he was murmuring +to his savage old heart: + +"The good days are over. They'll never rest till one of 'em is dead, +and then the rest will take sides and we'll have gun-plays at night. +Seven years, and then to break up!" + +Dick Wilbur, as usual, was the pacifier. He strode across the room, +and the sharp sound of his heels on the creaking floor broke the +tension. He said softly to Pierre: "You've raised hell enough. Now +let's go up and get Jack down here to undo what you've just finished. +Besides, you've got to ask her for that dance, eh?" + +The glance of Pierre still lingered on Gandil as he turned and followed +Wilbur up the complaining stairs to the one habitable room in the +second story of the house. It was set aside for the use of Jacqueline. + +At the door Wilbur said: "Shrug your shoulders back; you look as if you +were going to jump at something. And wipe the wolf-look off your face. +After all, Jack's a girl, not a gun-fighter." + +Then he knocked and opened the door. + +She lay face down on her bunk, her head turned from them and toward the +wall. Slender and supple and strong, it was still only the size of her +boots and her hands that would make one look at her twice and then +guess that this was a woman, for she was dressed, from trousers even to +the bright bandanna knotted around her throat, like any prosperous +range rider. + +Now, to be sure, the thick coils of black hair told her sex, but when +the broad-brimmed sombrero was pulled well down on her head, when the +cartridge-belt and the six-gun were slung about her waist, and most of +all when she spurred her mount recklessly across the hills, no one +could have suspected that this was not some graceful boy born and bred +in the mountain-desert, wilful as a young mountain-lion, and as +dangerous. + +"Sleepy?" called Wilbur. + +She waited a moment and then queried with exaggerated impudence: "Well?" + +Ennui unspeakable was in that drawling monotone. + +"Brace up; I've got news for you." + +Her hand moved and all the graceful body, but it was only with a yawn. +What need was there to speak? She wished to be alone. + +"And I've brought Pierre along to tell you about it. + +"Oh!" + +And she sat bolt upright with shining eyes. Instantly she remembered +to yawn again, but her glance smiled on them above her hand. + +She apologized. "Awfully sleepy, Dick." + +But he was not deceived. He said: "There's a dance down near the +Barnes place, and Pierre wants you to go with him." + +Back tilted her head, and her throat stirred as if she were singing. + +"Pierre! A dance?" + +He explained: "Dick's lost his head over a girl with yellow hair, and +he wants me to go down and see her. He thought you might want to go +along." + +Her face changed like the moon when a cloud blows across it. Before +she answered she slipped down on the bunk again, pillowed her head +leisurely on her arm, and answered with another slow, insolent yawn: +"Thanks! I'm staying home to-night." + +Wilbur glared his rage covertly at Pierre, but the latter was blandly +unconscious that he had made any _faux pas_. + +He said carelessly: "Too bad. It might be interesting, Jack?" + +At his voice she looked up--a sharp and graceful toss of the head. + +"What?" + +"The girl with the yellow hair." + +"Then go ahead and see her. I won't keep you. You don't mind if I go +on sleeping? Sit down and be at home." + +With this she calmly turned her back again and seemed thoroughly +disposed to carry out her word. Red Pierre flushed a little, watching +her, and he spoke his anger outright: "You're acting like a sulky kid, +Jack, not like a man." + +It was a habit of his to forget that she was a woman. Without turning +her head she answered: "Do you want to know why?" + +"You're like a cat showing your claws. Go on! Tell me what the reason +is." + +"Because I get tired of you." + +In all his life he had never been so scorned. He did not see the +covert grin of Wilbur in the background. He blurted: "Tired?" + +"Awfully. You don't mind me being frank, do you, Pierre?" + +He could only stammer: "Sometimes I wish to God you were a man, Jack!" + +"You don't often remember that I'm a woman." + +"What do you mean by that?" + +She was silent, but there was a perceptible tremor in the graceful body. + +He repeated: "Do you mean that I'm rude or rough with you, Jacqueline?" + +Still the silence, but Wilbur was grinning broader than ever. "Answer +me!" + +She started up and faced him, her face convulsed with rage. + +"What do you want me to say? Yes, you are rude--I hate you and your +lot. Go away from me; I don't want you; I hate you all." + +And she would have said more, but furious sobs swelled her throat and +she could not speak, but dropped, face down, on the bunk and gripped +the blankets in each hard-set hand. Over her Pierre leaned, utterly +bewildered, found nothing that he could say, and then turned and +strode, frowning, from the room. Wilbur hastened after him and caught +him just as the door was closing. + +"Come back," he pleaded. "This is the best game I've ever seen. Come +back, Pierre! You've made a wonderful start." + +Pierre le Rouge shook off the detaining hand and glared up at Wilbur. + +"Don't try irony, Dick. I feel like murder. Think of it! All this +time she's been hating me; and now it's making her weep; think of +it--Jack--weeping!" + +"Why, you're a child, Pierre. Go back and take her in your arms and +tell her you're going to make her go to the dance." + +"Take her in my arms? She'd stab me, there's that much of the devil in +her. Don't grin at me and keep chuckling like an utter ass. What's +up, Dick?" + +"Don't you see? No, you don't, but it's so plain that a baby of three +years could understand. She's in love with you." + +"With me?" + +"With Red Pierre." + +"You can't make a joke out of Jack with me. You ought to know that." + +"Pierre, I'd as soon make a joke out of a wildcat." + +"Grinning still? Wilbur, I'm taking more from you than I would from +any man on the ranges." + +"I know you are, and that's why I'm stringing this out because I'm +going to have a laugh--ha, ha, ha!--the rest of my life--ha, ha, ha, +ha!--whenever I think of this--ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!" + +The burst of merriment left him speechless, and Pierre, glowering, his +right hand twitching dangerously close to that holster at his hip. He +sobered, and said: "Go in and talk to her and prove that I'm right." + +"Ask Jack if she loves me? Why, I'd as soon ask any man the same +question." + +The big long rider was instantly curious. + +"Has she never appealed to you as a woman, Pierre?" + +"How could she? I've watched her ride; I've watched her use her gun; +I've slept rolled in the same blankets with her, back to back; I've +walked and talked and traveled with her as if she were my kid brother." + +Wilbur nodded, as if the miracle were being slowly unfolded before his +eyes. + +"And you've never noticed anything different about her? Never watched +a little lift and grace in her walk that no man could ever have; never +heard her laugh in a voice that no man could ever imitate; never seen +her color change just because you, Pierre, came near or went far away +from her?" + +"Because of me?" asked the bewildered Pierre. + +"You fool, you! Why, lad, I've been kept amused by you two for a whole +evening, watching her play for your attention, saving her best smiles +for you, keeping her best attitudes for you, and letting all the +richness of her voice go out for--a block--a stone. Gad, the thing +still doesn't seem possible! Pierre, one instant of that girl would +give romance to a man's whole life." + +"This girl? This Jack of ours?" + +"He hasn't seen it! Why, if I hadn't seen years ago that she had tied +her hands and turned her heart over to you, I'd have been down on my +knees to her a thousand times, begging her for a smile, a shadow of a +hope." + +"If I didn't know you, Dick, I'd say that you were partly drunk and +partly a fool." + +"Here's a hundred--a cold hundred that I'm right. I'll make it a +thousand, if you dare." + +"Dare what?" + +"Ask her to marry you." + +"Marry--me?" + +"Damn it all--well, then--whatever you like. But I say that if you go +back into that room and sit still and merely look at her, she'll be in +your arms within five minutes." + +"I hate to take charity, but a bet is a bet. That hundred is in my +pocket already. It's a go!" + +They shook hands. + +"But what will be your proof, Dick, whether I win or lose?" + +"Your face, blockhead, when you come out of the room." + +Upon this Pierre pondered a moment, and then turned toward the door. +He set his hand on the knob, faltered, and finally set his teeth and +entered the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +FIVE MINUTES' SILENCE + +She lay as he had left her, except that her face was now pillowed in +her arms, and the long sobs kept her body quivering. Awe and curiosity +swept over Pierre, looking down at her, but chiefly a puzzled grief +such as a strong man feels when a friend is in trouble. He came closer +and laid a hand on her shoulder. + +"Jack!" + +She turned far enough to strike his hand away and instantly resumed her +former position, though the sobs were softer. This childish anger +irritated him. He was about to storm out of the room when the thought +of the hundred dollars stopped him. It was not that he hoped to win +the money, for dollars rolled easily into his hands and out again, but +the bet had been made, and it was his pride that he would play out his +part of it. It seemed unsportsmanlike to leave without some effort. + +The effort which he finally made was that suggested by Wilbur. He +folded his arms and stood silent, waiting, and ready to judge the time +as nearly as he could until the five minutes should have elapsed. He +was so busy computing the minutes that it was with a start that he +noticed some time later that the weeping had ceased. She lay quiet. +Her hand was dabbing furtively at her face for a purpose which Pierre +could not surmise. + +At last a broken voice murmured: "Pierre!" + +He would not speak, but something in the voice made his anger go. +After a little it came, and louder this time: "Pierre?" + +He did not stir. + +She whirled and sat on the edge of the bunk, crying: "Pierre!" with a +note of fright. Then she flushed richly. + +"I thought perhaps you were gone. I thought--Pierre--I was afraid--I +mean I hoped--" + +She could not go on. + +And still he persisted in that silence, his arms folded, the keen blue +eyes considering her as if from a great distance. + +She explained: "I was afraid--Pierre! Why don't you speak? Tell me, +are you angry?" + +And she sprang up and made a pace toward him. She had never seemed so +little manlike, so wholly womanly. For the thick coils of hair were +loosed on her head, and the black hair framed a face stained, flushed, +with eyes that were like a great black, bottomless well of sorrow and +wistfulness. And the hand which stretched toward him, palm up, was a +symbol of everything new and strange that he found in her. + +He had seen it balled to a small, angry fist, brown and dangerous; he +had seen it gripping the butt of a revolver, ready for the draw; he had +seen it tugging at the reins and holding a racing horse in check with +an ease which a man would envy; but never before had he seen it turned +palm up, to his knowledge; and now, because he could not speak to her, +according to his plan, he studied her thoroughly for the first time. + +Slender and marvelously made was that hand. The whole woman was in it, +finely fashioned, delicate, made for beauty, not for use. It was all +he could do to keep from exclaiming. + +She made a quick step toward him, eager, uncertain: + +"Pierre, I thought you had left me--that you were gone, and angry." + +The hearts of men are tinder; something caught on fire in Pierre, but +still he would say nothing. He was beginning to feel a cruel pleasure +in his victory, but it was not without a deep sense of danger. + +She had laid aside her six-gun, but she had not abandoned it. She had +laid aside her anger, but she could resume it again as swiftly as she +could take up her revolver. + +He exulted in the touch of victory, but it was as a man who rides a +horse that paces docilely beneath him but may plunge into a fury of +bucking in a moment. She was closer--very close, and somehow he knew +that at his pleasure he could make her smile or tremble by speaking. +Yet he would not speak. The five minutes were not yet up. + +She cried with a little burst of rage: "Pierre, you are making a game +of me!" + +But seeing that he did not change she altered swiftly and caught his +hand in both of hers. She spoke the name which she always used when +she was greatly moved. + +"Ah, Pierre le Rouge, what have I done?" + +His silence tempted her on like the smile of the sphinx. + +And suddenly she was inside his arms, though how she separated them he +could not tell, and crying: "Pierre, I am unhappy. Help me, Pierre!" + +It was true, then, and Wilbur had won his bet. But how could it have +happened? He took the arms that encircled his neck and brought them +slowly down, and watched her curiously. Something was expected of him, +but what it was he could not tell, for women were as strange to him as +the wild sea is strange to the Arab. + +He hunted his mind, and then: "One of the boys has angered you, Jack?" + +And she said, because she could think of no way to cover the confusion +which came to her after the outbreak: "Yes." + +He dropped her arms and strode a pace or two up and down the room. + +"Gandil?" + +"N-no!" + +"You're lying. It was Gandil." + +And he made straight for the door. + +She ran after him and flung herself between him and the door. Clearly, +as if it were a painted picture, she saw him facing Gandil--saw their +hands leap for the guns--saw Gandil pitch face forward on the +floor--writhe all his limbs--and then lie still. "Pierre--for God's +sake!" + +Her terror convinced him partially, and the furor went back from his +eyes as a light goes back in a long, dark hall. + +"On your honor, Jack, it's not Gandil?" + +"On my honor." + +"But some one has broken you up." + +"No, I--" + +"Don't lie. Why, even while you look at me your color changes. You're +pale one minute and red the next. Some one has crossed you, Jack. And +whoever crosses you crosses me, by God! Out with his name! Is it +Branch?" + +"No." + +"Then it's big Patterson." + +"No." + +"I have it! Mansie! There's always something of the sneak about him +that I never liked." + +"No, no!" + +"It is! He came up to you and whispered some dog's remark for you to +hear. Damn him--I never trusted Mansie!" + +He pushed her away from the door and set his hand on the knob, but he +could not keep her back. She was upon him again and twisted between +him and the entrance to the room. + +"Pierre, upon my honor, it was none of these men." + +He could not help but believe. + +"Only Wilbur is left. Jack, I'd rather raise my hand against myself +than to harm Dick, but if--" + +"I'll never tell you who it was. Don't you see? It would be like a +murder in cold blood if I were to send you after him." + +"But he's here--he's one of us, this man who's bothered you." + +She could not help but answer: "Yes." + +He scowled down at the floor. + +"You would never be able to guess who it is. Give it up. After all--I +can live through it--I guess." + +"It's something that has saddened you. Do you know, we've been so much +together that I can almost read your mind, in a way. Why are you +smiling?" + +"I wish that you could read it--Pierre--at times." + +He took her face between his hands and frowned down into her eyes. At +his touch she grew very pale and trembled as If a wind were striking +against her. + +"You see, you've been so near to me, and so dear to me all these years, +Jack, that you're like a sister, almost." + +"And you to me, Pierre." + +"But different--nearer even than a sister." + +"So much nearer!" + +"It's queer, isn't it? But you can't forget this trouble you've had. +The tears come up in your eyes again. Tell me his name, Jack, and the +dog--" + +She said: "Only let me go. Take your hands away, Pierre." + +He obeyed her, deeply worried, and she stood for a moment with a hand +pressed over her eyes, swaying. He had never seen her like this; he +was like a pilot striving to steer his ship through an unfathomable +fog. Following what had become an instinct with him, he raised his +left hand and touched the cross beneath his throat. And inspiration +came to him. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX + +PARTNERS + +"Whether you want to or not, Jack, we'll go to this dance to-night." + +Jacqueline's hand fell away from her eyes. She seemed suddenly glad +again. + +"Do you want to take me, Pierre?" + +He explained: "Of course. Besides, we have to keep an eye on Wilbur. +This girl with the yellow hair--" + +She had altered swiftly again. There was no understanding her or +following her moods this day. He decided to disregard them, as he had +often done before. + +"Black Gandil swears that I'm bringing bad luck to the boys at last. +Patterson has disappeared; Wilbur has lost his head about a girl. +We've got to save Dick." + +He knew that she was fond of Wilbur, but she showed no enthusiasm now. + +"Let him go his own way. He's big enough to take care of himself." + +"But it's common talk, Jack, that the end of Wilbur will come through a +woman. It was that that sent him on the long trail, you know. And +this girl with the yellow hair--" + +"Why do you harp on her?" + +"Harp on her?" + +"Every other word--nothing but yellow hair. I'm sick of it. I know +the kind--faded corn color--dyed, probably. Pierre, you are all blind, +and you most of all." + +This being obviously childish, Pierre brushed the consideration of it +from his mind. + +"And for clothes, Jack?" + +They were both dumb. It had been years since she had worn the clothes +of a woman. She had danced with the men of her father's gang many a +time while some one whistled or played on a mouth-organ, and there was +the time they rode into Beulah Ferry and held up the dance-hall, and +Jim Boone and Mansie lined up the crowd with their hands held high +above their heads while the sweating musicians played fast and furious +and Jack and Pierre danced down the center of the hall. + +She had danced many a time, but never in the clothes of a woman; so +they stared, mutely puzzled. + +A thought came first to Jacqueline. It obliterated even the memory of +the yellow-haired girl and set her eyes dancing. She stepped close and +murmured her suggestion in the ear of Pierre. Whatever it was, it made +his jaw set hard and brought grave lines into his face. + +She stepped back, asking: "Well?" + +"We'll do it. What a little demon you are, Jack!" + +"Then we'll have to start now. There's barely time." + +They ran from the room together, and as they passed through the room +below Wilbur called after them: "The dance?" + +"Yes." + +"Wait and go with me." + +"We ride in a roundabout way." + +They were through the door as Pierre called back, and a moment later +the hoofs of their horses scattered the gravel down the hillside. +Jacqueline rode a black stallion sired by her father's mighty Thunder, +who had grown old but still could do the work of three ordinary horses +in carrying the great bulk of his master. The son of Thunder was +little like his sire, but a slender-limbed racer, graceful, nervous, +eager. A clumsy rider would have ruined the horse in a single day's +hard work among the trails of the mountain-desert, but Jacqueline, +fairly reading the mind of the black, nursed his strength when it was +needed and let him run free and swift when the ground before him was +level. + +Now she picked her course dexterously down the hillside with the +cream-colored mare of Pierre following half a length behind. + +After the first down-pitch of ground was covered they passed into +difficult terrain, and for half an hour went at a jog trot, winding in +and out among the rocks, climbing steadily up and up through the hills. + +Here the ground opened up again, and they roved on at a free gallop, +the black always half a length in front. In all the length of the +mountain-desert there was no other picture which could compare with +these two in their youth and their pride and their fearlessness. + +They rode alert, high-headed like their horses, and there was about +them a suggestion of the patience which carries a man endlessly after +one purpose, and a suggestion of the eagerness, too, which makes him +strike swift and hard and surely when the time for action comes. + +Along the ridge of a crest, an almost level stretch of a mile or more, +Jack eased the grip on the reins, and the black responded with a sudden +lengthening of stride and lowered his head with ears pressed back flat +while he fairly flew over the ground. + +Nothing could match that speed. The strong mare fell to the rear, +fighting gamely, but beaten by that effort of the stallion. + +Jack swerved in the saddle and looked back, laughing her triumph. +Pierre smiled grimly in response and leaned forward, shifting his +weight more over the withers of Mary. He spoke to her, and one of her +pricking ears fell back as if to listen to his voice. He spoke again +and the other ear fell back, her neck straightened, she gave her whole +heart to her work. + +First she held the stallion even, then she began to gain. That was the +meaning of those round, strong hips, and the breadth of the chest. She +needed a half-mile of running to warm her to her work, and now the +black came back to her with every leap. + +The thunder of the approaching hoofs warned the girl. One more glance +she cast in apprehension over her shoulder, and then brought her spurs +into play again and again. Still the rush of hoofs behind her grew +louder and louder, and now there was a panting at her side and the head +of cream-colored Mary drew up and past. + +She gave up the battle with a little shout of anger and slowed up her +mount with a sharp pull on the reins. It needed only a word from +Pierre and his mare drew down to a hand-gallop, twisting her head a +little toward the black as if she called for some recognition of her +superiority. + +"It's always this way," cried Jack, and jerked at the reins with a +childish impotence of anger. "I beat you for the first quarter of a +mile and then this fool of a horse--I'm going to give him away." + +"The black," said Pierre, assuming an air of quiet and superior knowing +which always aggravated her most, "is a good second-rate cayuse when +some one who knows horses is in the saddle. I'd give you fifty for him +on the strength of his looks and keep him for a decoration." + +She could only glare her speechless rage for a moment. Then she +changed swiftly and threw out her hands in a little gesture of +surrender. + +"After all, what difference does it make? Your Mary can beat him in a +long run or a short one, but it's your horse, Pierre, and that takes +the sting away. If it were any one else's I'd--well, I'd shoot either +the horse or the rider. But my partner's horse is my horse, you know." + +She broke into song, the clear voice flinging back from the +mountainside to the canon that dropped on their right: + + "My partner's horse is my horse, bunky-- + From his fetlock to the bucking-strap, + From his flying hoofs to the saddle-flap-- + My partner's horse is my horse, bunky. + + "My partner's gun is my gun, bunky-- + From the chamber to the trigger-guard; + And the butt like a friend's hand gripping hard-- + My partner's gun is my gun, bunky. + + "My partner's heart is my heart, bunky-- + And like matched horses galloping well, + They will beat together through heaven and hell-- + My partner's heart is my heart, bunky." + + +He swerved his mare sharply to the left and took her hand with a strong +grip. + +"Jack, of all the men I've ever known, I'd rather walk with you, I'd +rather talk with you, I'd rather ride with you, I'd rather fight for +you. Jack, you're the best pal that ever wore spurs, and the gamest +sport." + +"Of all the men you ever knew," she said, "I suppose that I am." + +He did not hear the low voice, for he was looking out over the canon +and whistling the refrain of her song happily. A few moments later +they swung out onto the very crest of the range. + +On all sides the hills dropped away through the gloom of the evening, +brown near by, but falling off through a faint blue haze and growing +blue-black with the distance. A sharp wind, chill with the coming of +night, cut at them. Not a hundred feet overhead shot a low-winging +hawk back from his day's hunting and rising only high enough to clear +the range and then plunge down toward his nest. + +Like the hawks they peered down from their point of vantage into the +profound gloom of the valley below. They shaded their eyes and studied +it with a singular interest for long moments, patient, silent, quiet as +the hawk when he steadies himself in leisurely circles high in the +heart of heaven and fixes his eyes surely on his prey far, far +below--then folds his wings and shoots suddenly down, a veritable bolt +from the blue. + +So these two marauders stared until she raised a hand slowly and then +pointed down. He followed the direction she indicated, and there, +through the haze of the evening, he made out a glimmer of lights. + +He said sharply: "I know the place, but we'll have a devil of a ride to +get there." + +And like the swooping hawk they started down the slope. It was +precipitous in many places, but Pierre kept almost at a gallop, making +the mare take the slopes often crouched back on her haunches with +forefeet braced forward, and sliding many yards at a time. + +In between the boulders he darted, twisting here and there, and always +erect and jaunty in the saddle, swaying easily with every movement of +Mary. Not far behind him came the girl. Fine rider that she was, she +could not hope to compete with such matchless horsemanship where man +and horse were only one piece of strong brawn and muscle, one daring +spirit. Many a time the chances seemed too desperate to her, but she +followed blindly where he led, setting her teeth at each succeeding +venture, and coming out safe every time, until they swung out at last +through a screen of brush and onto the level floor of the valley. + + + + +CHAPTER XX + +FULL DRESS + +In the heart of that valley two roads crossed. Many a year before a +man with some imagination and illimitable faith was moved by the +crossing of those roads to build a general merchandise store. + +Time justified his faith, in a small way, and now McGuire's store was +famed for leagues and leagues about, for he dared to take chances with +all manner of novelties, and the curious, when their pocketbooks were +full, went to McGuire's to find inspiration. + +Business was dull this night, however; there was not a single patron at +the bar, and the store itself was empty, so he went to put out the big +gasoline lamp which hung from the ceiling in the center of the room, +and was on the ladder, reaching high above his head, when a singular +chill caught him in the center of his plump back and radiated from that +spot in all directions, freezing his blood. He swallowed the lump in +his throat and with his arms still stretched toward the lamp he turned +his head and glanced behind. + +Two men stood watching him from a position just inside the door. How +they had come there he could never guess, for the floor creaked at the +lightest step. Nevertheless, these fantoms had appeared silently, and +now they must be dealt with. He turned on the ladder to face them, and +still he kept the arms automatically above his head while he descended +to the floor. + +However, on a closer examination, these two did not seem particularly +formidable. They were both quite young, one with dark-red hair and a +somewhat overbright eye; the other was hardly more than a boy, very +slender, delicately made, the sort of handsome young scoundrel whom +women cannot resist. + +Having made these observations McGuire ventured to lower his arms by +jerks; nothing happened; he was safe. So he vented his feelings by +scowling on the strangers. + +"Well," he snapped, "what's up? Too late for business. I'm closin' +up." + +The two quite disregarded him. Their eyes were wandering calmly about +the place, and now they rested on the pride of McGuire's store. The +figure of a man in evening clothes, complete from shoes to gloves and +silk hat, stood beside a girl of wax loveliness. She wore a low-cut +gown of dark green, and over her shimmering, cold white shoulders was +draped a scarf of dull gold. Above, a sign said: "You only get married +once; why don't you do it up right?" + +"That," said the taller stranger, "ought to do very nicely for us, eh?" + +And the younger replied in a curiously light, pleasant voice: "Just +what we want. But how'll I get away with all that fluffy stuff, eh?" + +The elder explained: "We're going to a bit of a dance and we'll take +those evening clothes." + +The heart of McGuire beat faster and his little eyes took in the +strangers again from head to foot. + +"They ain't for sale," he said. "They's just samples. But right over +here--" + +"This isn't a question of selling," said the red-headed man. "We've +come to accept a little donation, McGuire." + +The storekeeper grew purple and white in patches. Still there was no +show of violence, no display of guns; he moved his hand toward his own +weapon, and still the strangers merely smiled quietly on him. He +decided that he had misunderstood, and went on: "Over here I got a line +of goods that you'll like. Just step up and--" + +The younger man, frowning now, replied: "We don't want to see any more +of your junk. The clothes on the models suit us all right. Slip 'em +off, McGuire." + +"But--" began McGuire and then stopped. + +His first suspicion returned with redoubled force; above all, that head +of dark red hair made him thoughtful. He finished hoarsely: "What the +hell's this?" + +"Why," smiled the taller man, "you've never done much in the interests +of charity, and now's a good time for you to start. Hurry up, McGuire; +we're late already!" + +There was a snarl from the storekeeper, and he went for his gun, but +something in the peculiarly steady eyes of the two made him stop with +his fingers frozen hard around the butt. A mighty sickness overwhelmed +McGuire, and before his eyes there swam a dark mist. + +He whispered: "You're Red Pierre?" + +"The clothes," repeated Pierre sternly, "on the jump, McGuire." + +And with a jump McGuire obeyed. His hands trembled so that he could +hardly remove the scarf from the shoulders of the model, but afterward +fear made his fingers supple. He lifted up the green gown; white, +filmy clothes showed underneath. + +There came a sharp cry from Jack: "Turn away, Pierre; turn quick and +don't dare to look. I'll take care of McGuire." + +And Pierre le Rouge turned, grinning. When she told him that he could +look again, he found her with a bright spot of color in either cheek, +and her eyes avoided his. It thrilled Pierre, and yet it troubled him, +for she seemed changed, all at once, less of a comrade, and strangely +aloof. McGuire was doing up the clothes in two bundles. + +Jacqueline took one of them and Pierre the other under his left arm; +with his right hand he drew out some yellow coins. + +"I didn't buy these clothes because I didn't have the time to dicker +with you, McGuire. I've heard you talk prices before, you know. But +here's what the clothes are worth to us." + +And into the quaking hands of McGuire he poured a chinking stream of +gold pieces. + +Relief, amazement, and a very wholesome fear struggled in the face of +McGuire as he saw himself threefold overpaid. At that little yellow +heap he remained staring, unheeding the sound of the retreating +outlaws. At it he still stared with fascinated eyes while the door +banged and the clatter of galloping hoofs began. + +"It ain't possible," he said at last, "thieves have begun to pay." + +His eyes sought the ceiling. + +"So that's Red Pierre?" said McGuire. + +As for Pierre and Jacqueline, they were instantly safe in the black +heart of the mountains. Many a mile of hard riding lay before them, +however, and already the dance must be nearly ready to begin in the +Crittenden schoolhouse. There was no road, not even a trail that they +could follow. They had never even seen the Crittenden schoolhouse; +they knew its location only by vague descriptions. + +But they had ridden a thousand times in places far more bewildering and +less known to them. Like all true denizens of the mountain-desert, +they had a sense of direction as uncanny as that of an Eskimo. Now +they struck off confidently through the dark and trailed up and down +through the mountains until they reached a hollow in the center of +which shone a group of dim lights. It was the schoolhouse near the +Barnes place, the scene of the dance. + +So they turned back behind the hills and in the covert of a group of +cottonwoods they kindled two more little fires, shading them on three +sides with rocks and leaving them open for the sake of light on the +fourth. + +They worked busily for a time, without a word spoken by either of them. +The only sound was the rustling of Jacqueline's stolen silks and the +purling of a small stream of water near them, some meager spring. + +But presently: "P-P-Pierre, I'm f-freezing." + +He himself was numbed by the chill air and paused in the task of +thrusting a leg into the trousers, which persisted in tangling and +twisting under his foot. + +"So'm I. It's c-c-cold as the d-d-d-devil." + +"And these--th-things--aren't any thicker than spider webs." + +"Wait. I'll build you a great big fire." + +And he scooped up a number of dead twigs. + +"P-P-Pierre! D-d-d-don't you d-d-dare c-come in s-sight of m-me." + +"D-d-damn it! I don't want to see you." + +"P-Pierre! Aren't you ash-sh-sh-shamed to talk like that?" + +"Jack, this damned collar won't button." + +"K-k-eep t-t-t-trying." + +"Come help me." + +"Pierre! How can I come dressed like th-th-this?" + +"I'm n-n-not going to the dance." + +"P-P-P-Pierre!" + +"I'm not." + +"Then I am." + +"W-w-w-without me?" + +"Y-y-yes." + +"Jack, you're a flirt." + +"I hate you, Pierre!" + +"Thank G-G-G-God! The collar's on." + +"I can't tie this--th-th-thing." + +"I'll come help you." + +"N-n-n-no!" + +"What is it?" + +"The thing that g-g-goes around me." + +"C-c-c-corset?" + +A silence. + +"Pierre!" + +"W-well?" + +"It's t-t-tied!" + +"But this damned tie isn't!" + +"I'll do it for you." + +And then: "N-n-no. Go b-b-b-back!" + +He fixed the eye-glass on his nose and laughed at the thought of +himself. + +"Pierre." + +"Well?" + +"I've got the dress on." + +"Then I can come?" + +He was warm enough now, with the suit on and even the tie knotted, +after a fashion. + +"No. I st-t-till feel just n-n-n-naked, Pierre." + +"Is there something missing?" + +"Yes. Around the shoulders." + +"Take the scarf." + +There was an interlude of more rustling, then: + +"P-P-Pierre." + +"Well?" + +"I wish I had a m-m-m-mirror." + +"Jack, are you vain?" + +A cry of delight answered him. He threw caution to the winds and +advanced on her. He found her kneeling above a pool of water fed by +the soft sliding little stream from the spring. With one hand she held +a burning twig by way of a torch, and with the other she patted her +hair into shape and finally thrust the comb into the glittering, heavy +coils. + +She started, as if she felt his presence without looking, and knelt +with body erect. + +"P-P-Pierre!" + +"Yes?" + +"C-c-c-close your eyes." + +He obeyed. + +"Look!" + +She stood with the torch high overhead, and he saw a beauty so glorious +that he closed his eyes involuntarily and still he saw the vision in +the dull-green gown, with the scarf of old gold about her shoulders and +the skin peering out here and there, dazzling white. And there were +two lights, the barbaric red of the jewels in her hair, and the black +shimmer of her eyes. He drew back a step more. It was a picture to be +looked at from a distance. + +She ran to him with a cry of dismay: + +"Pierre, what's wrong with me?" + +His arms went round her of their own accord. It was the only place +they could go. And all this fragrant, marvelous beauty was held in the +circle of his will. + +"It isn't that, but you're so wonderful, Jack, so glorious, that I +hardly know you. You're like a different person." + +He felt the warm body trembling, and the thought that it was not +entirely from the cold set his heart beating like a trip-hammer. What +he felt was so strange to him that he stepped back in a vague alarm, +and then laughed. She stood with a half whimsical half expectant smile. + +"Jack, how am I to risk you in the arms of all the strangers in that +dance?" + +The light of Alexander when he dreamed of new worlds to conquer came +into those wide black eyes. + +"It's late. Listen!" + +She cupped a hand at her ear and leaned to listen. Up from the hollow +below them came a faint strain of music, a very light sound that was +drowned a moment later by the solemn rushing of the wind through the +great trees above them. + +They looked up of one accord. + +"Pierre, what was that?" + +"Nothing; the wind in the branches, that's all." + +"It was a hushing sound. It was like--it was like a warning, almost." + +But he was already turning away, and she followed him hastily. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE DANCE + +Jacqueline could never back a horse in that gown, or even sit sidewise +in the saddle without hopelessly crumpling it, so they walked to the +schoolhouse. It was a slow progress, for she had to step lightly and +carefully for fear of the slippers. He took her bare arm and helped +her; he would never have thought of it under ordinary conditions, but +since she had put on this gown she was greatly changed to him, no +longer the wild, free rider of the mountain-desert, but a defenseless, +strangely weak being. Her strength was now something other than the +skill to ride hard and shoot straight and quick. + +Greatest wonder of all, she accepted the new relation tacitly, and +leaned more and more weight on his hand, and even looked up and laughed +with pleasure when he almost lifted her over a muddy runlet. It was +all new, very strange, and, oddly enough, not unpleasant. Each was +viewing the other from such an altered point that neither spoke. + +So they came to the schoolhouse in this silence, and reached the long +line of buggies, buckboards, and, most of all, saddled horses. They +flooded the horse-shed where the school children stabled their mounts +in the winter weather. They were tethered to the posts of the fence; +they were grouped about the trees. + +It was a prodigious gathering, and a great affair for the +mountain-desert. They knew this even before they had set foot within +the building. + +They stopped here and adjusted their masks carefully. They were made +from a strip of black lining which Jack had torn from one of the coats +in the trunk which lay far back in the hills. + +Those masks had to be tied firmly and well, for some jester might try +to pull away that of Pierre, and if his face were seen, it would be +death--a slaughter without defense, for he had not been able to conceal +his big Colt in these tight-fitting clothes. Even as it was, there was +peril from the moment that the lights within should shine on that head +of dark-red hair. + +As for Jack, there was little fear that she would be recognized. She +was strange even to Pierre every time he looked down at her, for she +had ceased to be Jack and had become very definitely "Jacqueline." But +the masks were on; the scarf adjusted about the throat and bare, +shivering shoulders of Jack, and they stood arm in arm before the door +out of which streamed the voices and the music. + +"Are you ready?" + +"Yes." + +"Pierre--if they should find us out--" + +"Never in a thousand years. Are you ready?" + +"Yes." + +But she was trembling so, either from fear, or excitement, or both, +that he had to take a firm hold on her arm and almost carry her up the +steps, shove the door open, and force her in. + +A hundred eyes were instantly upon them, practised, suspicious eyes, +accustomed to search into all things and take nothing for granted; eyes +of men who, when a rap came at their door, looked to see whether or not +the shadow of the stranger fell full in the center of the crack beneath +the door. If it fell to one side the man might be an enemy, and +therefore they would stand at one side of the room, their hands upon +the butt of the six-gun, and shout: "Come in." Such was the battery of +glances from the men, and the color of Pierre altered, paled. + +He knew some of those faces, for those who hunt and are hunted never +forget the least gestures of their enemies. There was a mighty +temptation to turn back even then, but he set his teeth and forced +himself to stand calmly, adjust the absurd eye-glass on his nose, and +stare about the room. + +The chuckle which replied to this maneuver freed him for the moment. +Suspicion was lulled. Moreover, the red-jeweled hair of Jacqueline and +her lighted eyes called all attention almost immediately upon her. She +shifted the golden scarf--the white arms and breast flashed in the +light--a gasp responded. There would be talk to-morrow; there were +whispers even now. + +It was not the main hall that they stood in, for this school, having +been built by an aspiring community, contained two rooms; this smaller +room, used by the little ones of the school, was now converted into a +hat-and-cloak room, and here also were a dozen baskets and boxes filled +with comforters and blankets. + +It was because of what lay in those baskets that the men and the women +walked and talked softly in this room. They were wary lest they should +arouse a sound which not even the loudest music could quite drown--a +sound which makes all women sit up straight and sniff like hunted +animals at bay, and makes all men frown and glance about for places of +refuge. + +Now and then some girl came panting and flushed from the dance-hall +within and tiptoed to one of these baskets, and raised an edge of a +blanket and looked down at the contents with a singular smile. Pierre +hung up his hat, removed his gloves slowly, nerving himself to endure +the sharp glances, and opened the door for Jacqueline. + +If she had held back tremulously before, something she had seen in the +eyes of those in the first room, something in the whisper and murmur +which rose the moment she started to leave, gave her courage. She +stepped into the dance-hall like a queen going forth to address devoted +subjects. + +The second ordeal was easier than the first. There were many times +more people in that crowded room, but each was intent upon his own +pleasure. A wave of warmth and light swept upon them, and a blare of +music, and a stir and hum of voices, and here and there the sweet sound +of a happy girl's laughter. They raised their heads, these two wild +rangers of the mountain-desert, and breathed deep of the fantastic +scene. + +It was marvelous, indeed, that so much gay life could exist within the +arms of those gaunt, naked hills beyond the windows. There was no +attempt at beauty in the costumes of the masqueraders. Here and there +some girl achieved a novel and pleasing effect; but on the whole they +strove for cheaper and more stirring things in the line of the +grotesque. + +Here passed a youth wearing a beard made from the stiff, red bristles +of the tail of a sorrel horse. Another wore a bear's head cunningly +stuffed, the grinning teeth flashing over his head and the skin draped +over his shoulders. A third disfigured himself horribly by painting +after the fashion of an Indian on the war-path, with crimson streaks +down his forehead and red and black across his cheeks. + +But not more than a third of all the assembly made any effort to +masquerade, beyond the use of the simple black mask across the upper +part of the face. The rest of the men and women contented themselves +with wearing the very finest clothes they could afford to buy, and +there was through the air a scent of the general merchandise store +which not even a liberal use of cheap perfume and all the drifts of +pale-blue cigarette smoke could quite overcome. + +As for the music, it was furnished by two very old men, relics of the +days when there were contests in fiddling; a stout fellow of middle +age, with cheeks swelled almost to bursting as he thundered out +terrific blasts on a slide trombone; a youth who rattled two sticks on +an overturned dish-pan in lieu of a drum, and a cornetist of real skill. + +In an interlude, before very long, he would amuse with a solo, +including all sorts of runs and whistling notes, and be a source of +talk for many a month to come. + +There were hard faces in the crowd, most of them, of men who had set +their teeth against hard weather and hard men, and fought their way +through, not to happiness, but to existence, so that fighting had +become their pleasure. + +Now they relaxed their eternal vigilance, their eternal suspicion. +Another phase of their nature weakened. Some of them were smiling and +laughing for the first time in months, perhaps, of bitter labor and +loneliness on the range. With the gates of good-nature opened, a +veritable flood of gaiety burst out. It glittered in their eyes, it +rose to their lips in a wild laughter. They seemed to be dancing more +furiously fast in order to forget the life which they had left, and to +which they must return. + +And through all the cheapness there was a great note of poetry as well; +but one caught this only by a sense of intuition, or by remembering +that these were the conquerors of the bitter nature of the +mountain-desert. There was beauty here, the beauty of strength in the +men and a brown loveliness in the girls; just as in the music, the +blatancy of the rattling dish-pan and the blaring trombone were more +than balanced by the real skill of the violinists, who kept a high, +sweet, singing tone through all the clamor. + +One could close his ears to the rest of the noise, if he strove to do +so, and hear nothing but that harmonious moaning of the strings, steady +and clear, like the aspirations of a man divorced from the facts of his +weakness and his crudeness in practical life. + +And Pierre le Rouge and Jacqueline? They stood aghast for a moment +when that crash of noise broke around them; but they came from a life +where there was nothing of beauty except the lonely strength of the +mountains and the appalling silences of the stars that roll above the +desert. Almost at once they caught the overtone of human joyousness, +and they turned with strange smiles to each other, and it was "Pierre?" +"Jack?" Then a nod, and she was in his arms, and they glided into the +dance. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII + +THE OVERTONE + +When a crowd gathers in the street, there rises a babel of voices, a +confused and pointless clamor, no matter what the purpose of the +gathering, until some man who can think as well as shout begins to +speak. Then the crowd murmurs a moment, and after a few seconds +composes itself to listen. + +So it was with the noise in the hall when Pierre and Jacqueline began +to dance. First there were smiles of derision and envy around them, +but after a moment a little hush came where they moved, and then men +began to note the smile of the girl and the whiteness of that round +throat, and the grace of the bare, tapering arms. + +So a whisper went around the room, and there began a craning of necks +and an exchange of nods. All that crowd became in a moment no more +than the chorus which fills the background of the stage when the +principals step out from the wings. + +They could not help but dance well, for they had youth and grace and +strength, and the glances of applause and envy were like wine to +quicken their blood, while above all they caught the overtone of the +singing violins, and danced by that alone. The music ended with a long +flourish just as they whirled to a stop in a corner of the room. At +once an eddy of men started toward them. + +"Who shall it be?" smiled Pierre. "With whom do you want to dance? +It's your triumph, Jack." + +She was alight and alive with the victory, and her eyes roved over the +crowd. + +"The big man with the tawny hair." + +"But he's making right past us." + +"No; he'll turn and come back." + +"How do you know?" + +For answer she glanced up and laughed, and he realized with a singular +sense of loneliness that she knew many things which were beyond his +ken. Some one touched his arm, and a voice, many voices, beset him: + +"How's the chances for a dance with the girl, partner?" + +"My name's McCormack. Riley? Glad to know you. I've got a flask on +the hip, Riley; what's the chance of making a trade on this next dance?" + +"How do we swap partners? Mine is the rangy girl with the red topknot. +Not much on looks, Bill, but a cayuse don't cover ground on his looks. +Dance? Say, Bill, she'll rock you to sleep!" + +"This dance is already booked," Pierre answered, and kept his eyes on +the tall man with the scarred face and the resolute jaw. He wondered +profoundly why Jacqueline had chosen such a partner. + +At least she had prophesied correctly, for the big man turned toward +them just as he seemed about to head for another part of the hall. The +crowd gave way before him, not that he shouldered them aside, but they +seemed to feel the coming of his shadow before him, and separated as +they would have done before the shadow of a falling tree. + +In another moment Pierre found himself looking up to the giant. No +mask could disguise him, neither cover that long, twisting mark of +white down his cheek, nor hide the square set of the jaw, nor dim the +keen steady eyes. Upon him there was written at large: "This is a man." + +And there came to Pierre an exceedingly great uneasiness in his right +hand, and a twitching of the fingers low down on his thigh where the +familiar holster should have hung. His left hand rose, following the +old instinct, and touched beneath his throat where the cold cross lay. + +He was saying easily: "This is your dance, isn't it?" + +"Right, Bud," answered the big man in a mellow voice as great as his +size. "Sorry I can't swap partners with you, but I hunt alone." + +An overwhelming desire to get a distance between himself and this huge +unknown came to Pierre. + +He said: "There goes the music. You're off." + +And the other, moving toward Jack, leaned down a little and murmured at +the ear of the outlaw: "Thanks, Pierre." + +Then he was gone, and Jacqueline was laughing over his shoulder back to +Pierre. + +Through his daze and through the rising clamor of the music, a voice +said beside him: "You look sort of sick, dude. Who's your friend?" + +"Don't you know him?" asked Pierre. + +"No more than I do you; but I've ridden the range for ten years around +here, and I know that he's new to these parts. If I'd ever glimpsed +him before, I'd remember him. He'd be a bad man in a mix, eh?" + +And Pierre answered with devout earnestness: "He would." + +"But where 'd you buy those duds, pal? Hey, look! Here's what I've +been waiting for--the Barneses and the girl that's visitin' 'em from +the East." + +"What girl?" + +"Look!" + +The Barnes group was passing through the door, and last came the +unmistakable form of Dick Wilbur, masked, but not masked enough to hide +his familiar smile or cover the well-known sound of his laughter as it +drifted to Pierre across the hall, and on his arm was a girl in an +evening dress of blue, with a small, black mask across her eyes, and +deep-golden hair. + +Pausing before she swung into the dance with Wilbur, she made a gesture +with the white arm, and looked up laughing to big, handsome Dick. +Pierre trembled, and his heart beat once and stopped. + +As he watched, the song which Dick had sung came like a monotonous, +religious chant within him: + + They call me poor, yet I am rich + In the touch of her golden hair; + My heart is filled like a miser's hands + With the red-gold of her hair. + + The only sky I ride beneath + Is the dear blue of her eyes, + The only heaven I desire + Is the blue of her dear eyes. + + +But even the memory of the song died in him while he watched her dance, +and saw the lights and shadows flit across the smooth shoulders; and +when he saw the hands of Wilbur about her, a red rage came up in him. + +Dick in passing, marked that stare above the heads of the crowd, and +frowned with trouble. The hungry eyes of Pierre followed them as they +circled the hall again; and this time Wilbur, perhaps fearing that +something had gone wrong with Pierre, steered close to the edge of the +dancing crowd and looked inquisitively across. + +He leaned and spoke to the girl, and she turned her head, smiling, to +Pierre. Then the smile went out, and even despite the mask, he saw +that her eyes had widened. The heart of Pierre grew thunderous with +music. She had stopped and slipped from the arm of Wilbur, and came +step by step slowly toward him like one walking in her sleep. + +There, by the edge of the dancers, with the noise of the music and the +laughter and the shuffling feet to cover them, they met. The hands she +held to him were cold and trembling. He only knew that they were +marvelously soft, and that they faltered and closed strongly about his +own. + +"Is it you?" + +"It is I." + +That was all; and then the shadow of Wilbur loomed above them. + +"What's this? Do you know each other? It isn't possible! Pierre, are +you playing a game with me?" + +But under the glance of Pierre he fell back a step, and reached for the +gun which was not there. They were alone once more. + +"Mary--Mary Brown!" + +"Pierre!" + +"But you are dead!" + +"No, no! But you--Pierre----" + +"It was a miracle--the cross--that saved me." + +"Where can we go?" + +"Outside." + +"Pierre." + +"Yes." + +"Hold my arm close--so I'll know it isn't just dreaming. And go +quickly!" + +"They are staring at us--the fools--as if they were trying to +understand." + +"We'll be followed?" + +"Never." + +"Do you need a wrap?" + +"No." + +"But it is cold outside, and your shoulders are bare." + +"Then take that cloak. But quickly, Pierre, before we're followed." + +He drew it about her; he led her through the door; it clicked shut; +they were alone with the sweet, frosty air about them. She tore away +the mask, and her beauty struck him like the moon when it drops +suddenly through a mist of clouds. + +"And yours, Pierre?" + +"Not here." + +"Why?" + +"Because there are people. Hurry. Now here, with just the trees +around us----" + +And he tore off the mask. + +The white, cold moon shone over them, slipping down between the dark +tops of the trees, and the wind stirred slowly through the branches +with a faint, hushing sound, as if once more a warning were coming to +Pierre this night. He looked up, his left hand at the cross. + +"Look down. You are afraid of something, Pierre. What is it?" + +"With your arms around my neck, there's nothing in the world I fear. +Mary, I loved you all this time." + +"Pierre--and I----" + +"But you have grown so tall--so strange--I can hardly feel----" + +"And you--so stern and old." + +"I never dreamed I could love anything more than the little girl who +lay in the snow, and died there that night." + +"And I never dreamed I could smile at any man except the boy who lay by +me that night. And he died." + +"What miracle saved you?" + +She said: "It was wonderful, and yet very simple. You remember how the +tree crushed me down into the snow? Well, when the landslide moved, it +carried the tree before it; the weight of the trunk was lifted from me. +Perhaps it was a rock that struck me over the head then, for I lost +consciousness. The slide didn't bury me, but the rush carried me +before it like a stick before a wave, you see. + +"When I woke I was almost completely covered with a blanket of debris, +but I could move my arms, and managed to prop myself up in a sitting +posture. It was there that my father and his searching party found me; +he had been combing that district all night. They carried me back, +terribly bruised, but without even a bone broken. It was a miracle +that I escaped, and the miracle must have been worked by your cross; do +you remember?" + +He shuddered and threw a hand up before his eyes. + +"Dearest----" + +"It's nothing--but the cross--for every good fortune it has brought me, +it has brought bad luck to others." + +"Hush, Pierre. Put your arms around me. I am all yours--all. You +must not think of the trouble or the cross." + +He obeyed and drew her close to him, and the warm slender body gave to +him and lay close against his; and her head went back, and the curve of +her soft lips was close to his. He kissed her, reverently, and then, +with passion, the lips, the eyes, the throat, that quivered as if she +were singing. + +"Pierre, I have said good night to you every time before I went to +sleep all these years." + +"And I've looked for you in the face of every woman." + +"And I used to think that a still, small voice answered me out of the +night." + +"Oh, my dear, there was a voice; for I've loved you so hard that it +must have been like a hand at your shoulder tapping, and asking you to +remember me. Mary, you are crying." + +"I'm so happy; I can't help it. It's as if--as if--Pierre----" + +"Dear, my dear." + +"Hold me closer. I want to feel your strength around me, so that I +know I can never lose you again." + +"Never." + +"Tell me again that you love me." + +"I love you." + +"I love you, Pierre." + +Then the wind spoke for them, using the trees for a harp above them. +She looked up to him, and saw the nodding branches above his head, and +higher still, the cold and changeless radiance of the stars. He bent +back her head and stared so grimly down into her eyes that her smile +ceased tremulously. + +"Mary, what is the perfume?" + +"None, except the scent of the pines and the sweet, cold air of the +night, Pierre." + +"There is something more. It's as if the wind had taken all the +fragrance from a thousand miles of wild flowers, and brought them +blended and faint and sweeter than anything else in the world. It is +you, Mary, you are so beautiful. How many men have told you that you +are beautiful?" + +"None have told me; at least I've listened to them with only half my +heart." + +"What have they told you?" + +"Nothing, except words about eyes and lips, and things like that." + +"And your hair?" + +"Oh, yes, they never forget that." + +"Then there is nothing left for me to say, except that God made you so +that I could love you with all my heart. And while I hold you here and +hunt for things to say, my mind goes rushing out to great things--the +sea, the mountains, the wind, the cold, quiet, beautiful stars. But +you are unhappy to hear me. Look! The big tears come one by one in +your eyes, and roll down your face." + +"I'm so happy, Pierre, that I cannot help but be sad a little." + +"But never after this. We will always be happy." + +"Always and always." + +"Mary, I have ridden all day over a burning hot desert and come under +the mountains at night and looked up, and I've seen the white, pure +snow with the blue of the sky behind it. You are like that to me. But +you will be cold out here; I musn't go on saying nothings like this." + +"I love it, Pierre. I won't have you stop." + +"Sit here on this stump--now, I'll sit at your feet." + +"No, beside me, please, Pierre." + +"I will not move. Give me your hands. Now, when I look up your face +is framed by a tree-top that goes nodding from one side to the other, +and I look up at your eyes and past them at the stars until I know that +our love is like them, and free as the wind. Mary, my dearest, your +cold hand that I kiss is more to me than oceans of silver, or mountains +of gold." + +"Now, if we could both die, this would never end. But it will never +end in spite of to-morrow, will it? You will go back home with me." + +"Go home with you?" + +"Take my hand again. Pierre, what has happened? What have I done? +What have I said?" + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII + +THE FEAR OF THE LIVING + +But he only stared gravely up to her with such a sorrow that her heart +went cold. + +"Nothing--but I've remembered." + +"What?" + +"It's the cross. It brings luck and bad fortune together. Mary, I'll +throw it away, now--and then--no, it makes no difference. We are done +for." + +"Pierre!" + +"Don't you see, Mary, or are you still blind as I was ever since I saw +you tonight? It's all in that name--Pierre." + +"There nothing in it, Pierre, that I don't love." + +He rose, and she with him. His head was bowed as if with the weight of +the doom which he foresaw. + +"You have heard of the wild men of the mountains, and the long-riders?" + +He knew that she nodded, though she could not speak. + +"I am Red Pierre." + +"_You_!" + +"Yes." + +Yet he had the courage to raise his head and watch her shrink with +horror. It was only an instant. Then she was beside him again, and +one arm around him, while she turned her head and glanced fearfully +back at the lighted schoolhouse. The faint music mocked them. + +"And you dared to come to the dance? We must go. Look, there are +horses! We'll ride off into the mountains, and they'll never find +us--we'll----" + +"Hush! One day's riding would kill you--riding as I ride." + +"I'm strong---very strong, and the love of you, Pierre, will give me +more strength. But quickly, for if they knew you, every man in that +place would come armed and ready to kill. I know, for I've heard them +talk. Tell me, are one-half of all the terrible things they say----" + +"They are true, I guess." + +"I won't think of them. Whatever you've done, it was not you, but some +devil that forced you on. Pierre, I love you more than ever. Will you +go East with me, and home? We will lose ourselves in New York. The +millions of the crowd will hide us." + +"Mary, there are some men from whom even the night can't hide me. If +they were blind their hate would give them eyes to find me." + +"Pierre, you are not turning away from me--Pierre!" + +"God help me." + +"He will. There's some ghost of a chance for us. Will you take that +chance and come with me?" + +He thought of many things, but what he answered was: "I will." + +"Then let's go at once. The railroad----" + +"Not that way. No one in that house suspects me now. We'll go back +and put on our masks again, and--hush, what's there?" + +"Nothing." + +"There is--a man's step." + +And she, seeing the look on his face, covered her eyes in nameless +horror. When she looked up a great form was looming through the dark, +and then the voice of Wilbur came, hard and cold. + +"I've looked everywhere for you. Miss Brown, they are anxious about +you in the schoolhouse. Will you go back?" + +"No--I----" + +But Pierre commanded: "Go back." + +So she turned, and he ordered again: "I think our friend has something +to say to me. You can find your way easily. To-morrow----" + +"To-morrow, Pierre?" + +"Yes." + +"I shall be waiting." + +With what a voice she said it! And then she was gone. + +He turned quietly to big Dick Wilbur, on whose contorted face the +moonlight fell. + +"Say it, Dick, and have it out in cursing me, if that 'll help." + +The big man stood with his hands gripped hard behind him, fighting for +self-control. + +"Pierre, I've cared for you more than I've cared for any other man. +I've thought of you like a kid brother. Now tell me that you haven't +done this thing, and I'll believe you rather than my senses. Tell me +you haven't come like a thief in the night and stolen the girl I love +away from me; tell me----" + +"If you keep on like that, you'll end by jumping at my throat. Hold +yourself, Dick." + +"I will if you'll tell me that you haven't----" + +"I love her, Dick." + +"Damn you! And she?" + +"She'll forget me; God knows I hope she'll forget me." + +"I brought two guns with me. Here they are." + +He held out the weapons. + +"Take your choice." + +"Does it have to be this way?" + +"If you'd rather have me shoot you down in cold blood?" + +"I suppose this is as good a way as any." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Nothing. Give me a gun." + +"Here. This is ten paces. Are you ready?" + +"Yes." + +"Pierre. God forgive you for what you've done. She liked me, I know. +If it weren't for you, I would have won her and a chance for real life +again--but now--damn you!" + +"I'll count to ten, slowly and evenly. When I reach ten we fire?" + +"Yes." + +"I'll trust you not to beat the count, Dick." + +"And I you. Start." + +He counted quietly, evenly: "One, two, three, four, five six, seven, +eight, nine--ten." + +The gun jerked up in the hand of Wilbur, but he stayed the movement +with his finger pressing still upon the trigger. The hand of Pierre +had not moved. + +He cried: "By God, Pierre, what do you mean?" + +There was no answer. He strode across the intervening space dropped +his gun, and caught the other by the shoulders. Out of the nerveless +fingers of Pierre the revolver slipped and crushed a dead twig on the +ground, and a pair of lifeless eyes stared up to Dick Wilbur. + +"In the name of God, Pierre, what has happened to you?" + +"Dick, why didn't you fire?" + +"Fire? Murder you?" + +"You shoot straight--I know--it would have been over quickly." + +"What is it, boy? You look dead--there's no color in your face, no +light in your eyes, even your voice is dead. I know it isn't fear. +What is it?" + +"You're wrong. It's fear." + +"Fear and Red Pierre. The two don't mate." + +"Fear of living, Dick." + +"So that's it? God help you. Pierre, forgive me. I should have known +that you had met her before, but I was mad, and didn't know what I was +doing, couldn't think." + +"It's over and forgotten. I have to go back and get Jack. Will you +ride home with us?" + +"Jack? She's not in the hall. She left shortly after you went, and +she means some deviltry. There's a jealous fiend in that girl. I +watched her eyes when they followed you and Mary from the hall." + +"Then we'll ride back alone." + +"Not I. Carry the word to Jim that I'm through with the game. I'm +going to wash some of the grime off my conscience and try to make +myself fit to speak to this girl again." + +"It's the cross," said Pierre. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Nothing. The bad luck has come to poor old Jim at last, because he +saved me out of the snow. Patterson has gone, and now you, and perhaps +Jack--well, this is good-by, Dick?" + +"Yes." + +Their hands met, a long, strong grip. + +"You forgive me, Dick?" + +"With all my heart, old fellow." + +"I'll try to wish you luck. Stay close to her. Live clean for her +sake and worship her like a saint. Perhaps you'll win her." + +"I'll do what one man can." + +"But if you succeed, ride out of the mountain-desert with her--never +let me hear of it." + +"I don't understand. Will you tell me what's between you, Pierre? +You've some sort of claim on her. What is it?" + +"I've said good-by. Only one thing more. Never mention my name to +her." + +So he turned and walked out into the moonlight in the immaculate +dress-suit and big Wilbur stared after him until he disappeared beyond +the shoulder of a hill. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV + +THE LUCK OF THE SHIPWRECKED + +It was early morning before Pierre reached the refuge of Boone's gang, +but there was still a light through the window of the large room, and +he entered to find Boone, Mansie, and Gandil grouped about the fire, +all ominously silent, all ominously wakeful. They looked up to him and +big Jim nodded his gray head. Otherwise there was no greeting. + +From a shadowy corner Jacqueline rose and went toward the door. He +crossed quickly and barred the way. + +"What is it, Jack?" + +"Get out of the way." + +"Not till you tell me what's wrong." + +A veritable devil of fury came blazing in her eyes, and her hand +twitched nervously back to her hip where the dark holster hung. She +said in a voice that shook with anger: "Don't try your bluff on me. I +ain't no shorthorn, Pierre le Rouge." + +He stepped aside, frowning. + +"To-morrow I'll argue the point with you, Jack." + +She turned at the door and snapped back: "You? You ain't fast enough +on the draw to argue with me!" + +And she was gone. He turned to face the mocking smile of Black Gandil +and a rapid volley of questions. + +"Where's Patterson?" + +"No more idea than you have." + +"And Branch?" + +"What's become of Branch? Hasn't he returned?" + +"No. And Dick Wilbur?" + +"Boys, he's done with this life and I'm glad of it. He's starting on a +new track." + +"After a woman?" sneered Bud Mansie. + +"Shut up, Bud," broke in Boone, and then slowly to Pierre: "Patterson +is gone for two days now. You ought to know what that means. Branch +ought to have returned from looking for him, and Branch is still out. +Wilbur is gone. Out of seven we're only four left. Who's next?" + +He stared gloomily from face to face, and Gandil snarled: "A fellow who +saves a shipwrecked man--" + +"Damn you, keep still, Gandil." + +"Don't damn me, Pierre le Rouge, but damn the luck you've brought to +Jim Boone." + +"Jim, do you chalk all this up against me?" + +"I, lad? No, no! But it's queer. Patterson's done for; there's no +doubt of that. Good-natured Garry Patterson. God, boy, how we'll miss +him! And Branch seems to have gone the same way. If neither of them +show up before morning we can cross 'em off the list. Now Wilbur has +gone and Jack has ridden home looking like a small-sized thunder storm, +and now you come with a white face and a blank eye. What hell is +trailin' us, Pierre, what hell is in store for us. You've seen +something, and we want to know what it is." + +"A ghost, Jim, that's all. Just a ghost." + +Bud Mansie said softly: "There's only one ghost that could make you +look like this. Was it McGurk, Pierre?" + +Boone commanded: "No more of that, Bud. Boy's we're going to turn in, +and to-morrow we'll climb the hills looking for the two we've lost. +But there's something or some one after us. Lads, I'm thinking our +good days are over. The seven of us have been too many for a small +posse and too fast for a big one, but the seven are down to four. The +good days are over." + +And the three answered in a solemn chorus: "The good days are over." + +All eyes fixed on Pierre, and his glance was settled on the floor. + +The morning brought them no better cheer, for Jack, whose singing +generally wakened them, was not to be coaxed into speech, and when +Pierre entered the room she rose and left the breakfast-table. The sad +eyes of Jim Boone followed her and then turned to Pierre. No +explanation was forthcoming, and he asked for none. The old fatalist +had accepted the worst, and now he waited for doom to descend. + +They took their horses after breakfast and rode out to search the +hills, for it was quite possible that an accident had crippled at least +one of the two lost men, either Patterson or Branch. Not a gully +within miles was left unsearched, but toward evening they rode back, +one by one, with no tidings. + +One by one they rode up, and whistled to announce their coming, and +then rode on to the stable to unsaddle their horses. About the supper +table all gathered with the exception of Bud Mansie. So they waited +the meal and each from time to time stole a glance at the fifth plate +where Bud should sit. + +It was Jack who finally stirred herself from her dumb gloom to take up +that fifth and carry it out of the room. It was as if she had +announced the death of Mansie. + +After that, they ate what they could and then went back around the +fire. The evening waned, but it brought no sign of any of the missing +three. The wood burned low in the fire. The first to break the long +silence was Jim Boone, with "Who brings in the wood?" + +And Black Gandil answered: "We'll match, eh?" + +In an outburst of energy the day before he disappeared Garry Patterson +had chopped up some wood and left a pile of it at the corner of the +house. It was a very little thing to bring in an armful of that wood, +but long-riders do not love work, and now they started the matching +seriously. The odd man was out, and Pierre went out on the first toss +of the coins. + +"You see," said Gandil. "Bad luck to every one but himself." + +At the next throw Jacqueline was the lucky one, and her father +afterward. Gandil rose and stretched himself leisurely, yet as he +sauntered toward the door his backward glance at Pierre was black +indeed. He glanced curiously toward Jack--who looked away sharply--and +then turned his eyes to her father. + +The latter was considering him with a gloomy, foreboding stare and +considering over and over again, as Pierre le Rouge well knew, the +prophecy of Black Morgan Gandil. + +He fell in turn into a solemn brooding, and many a picture out of the +past came up beside him and stood near till he could almost feel its +presence. He was roused by the creaking of the floor beneath the +ponderous step of Jim Boone, who flung the door open and shouted: "Oh, +Morgan." + +In the silence he turned and stared back at Pierre. + +"What's up with Gandil?" + +"God knows, not I." + +Pierre rose and ran from the room and around the side of the building. +There by the woodpile lay the prostrate body. It was a mere limp +weight when he turned and raised it in his arms. So he walked back +into the house carrying all that was left of Black Morgan Gandil, and +placed his burden on a bunk at the side of the room. + +There had been no outcry from either Jim Boone or his daughter, but +they came quickly to him, and Jacqueline pressed her ear over the heart +of the hurt man. + +She said; "He's still alive, but nearly gone. Where's the wound?" + +They found it when they drew off his coat--a small cut high on the +right breast, and another lower and more to the left. Either of them +would been fatal, and about each the flesh was discolored where the +hilt of the knife or the fist of the striker had driven home the blade. + +They stood back and made no hopeless effort to save him. It was +uncanny that Black Morgan Gandil, after all of his battles, should die +without a struggle in this way. And it had been no cowardly attack +from the rear. Both wounds were in the front. A hope came to them +when his color increased at one time, but it was for only a moment; it +went out again as if some one were erasing paint from his cheeks. + +But just as they were about to turn away his body stirred with a slight +convulsion, the eyes opened wide, and he strove to speak. A red froth +came on his lips. He made another desperate effort, and twisting +himself onto one elbow pointed a rigid arm at Pierre. He gasped: +"McGurk--God!" and dropped. He was dead before his head touched the +blanket. + +It was Jacqueline who closed the staring eyes, for the two men were +frozen where they stood. They had heard the story of Patterson and +Branch and Mansie in one word from the lips of the dying man. + +McGurk was back. McGurk was prowling about the last of the gang of +Boone, and the lone wolf had pulled down four of the band one by one on +successive days. Only two remained, and these two looked at one +another with a common thought. + +"The lights!" cried Jacqueline, turning from the body of Gandil. "He +can shoot us down through the windows at his leisure." + +"But he won't," said her father. "I've lived too long with the name of +McGurk in my ears not to know the man. He'll never kill by stealth, +but openly and man to man. I know him, damn him. He'll wait till he +meets us alone, and then we'll finish as poor Gandil, there, or +Patterson and Branch and Bud Mansie, all of them fallen somewhere in +the mountains with the buzzards left to bury 'em. That's how we'll +finish with McGurk on our trail. And you--Gandil was right--it's you +that's brought him on us. A shipwrecked man--by God, Gandil was right!" + +His right hand froze on the butt of his gun and his face convulsed with +impotent rage, for he knew, as both the others knew, that long before +that gun was clear of the holster the bullet from Pierre's gun would be +on its way. But Pierre threw his arms wide, and standing so, his +shadow made a black cross on the wall behind him. He even smiled to +tempt the big man further. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV + +JACQUELINE WAITS + +Jacqueline ran between and caught the hand of her father, crying: + +"Are you going to finish the work of McGurk before he has a chance to +start it? He hunted the rest down one by one. Dad, if you put out +Pierre what is left? Can you face that devil alone?" + +And the old man groaned: "But it's his luck that's ruined me. It's his +damned luck which has broken up the finest fellowship that ever mocked +at law on the ranges. Oh, Jack, the heart in me's broken. I wish to +God that I lay where Gandil lies. What's the use of fighting any +longer? No man can stand up against McGurk!" + +And the cold which had come in the blood of Pierre agreed with him. He +was a slayer of men, but McGurk was a devil incarnate. His father had +died at the hand of this lone rider; it was fitting, it was fate that +he himself should die in the same way. The girl looked from face to +face, and sensed their despondency. It seemed that their fear gave her +the greater courage. Her face flushed as she stood glaring her scorn. + +"The yellow streak took a long time in showin', but it's in you, all +right, Pierre le Rouge." + +"You've hated me ever since the dance, Jack. Why?" + +"Because I knew you were yellow--like this!" + +He shrugged his shoulders like one who gives up the fight against a +woman, and seeing it, she changed suddenly and made a gesture with both +hands toward him, a sudden gesture filled with grace and a queer +tenderness. + +She said: "Pierre, have you forgotten that when you were only a boy you +stood up to McGurk and drew blood from him? Are you afraid of him now?" + +"I'll take my chance with any man--but McGurk--" + +"He has no cross to bring him luck." + +"Aye, and he has no friends for that luck to ruin. Look at Gandil, +Jack, and then speak to me of the cross." + +"Pierre, that first time you met you almost beat him to the draw. Oh, +if I were a man, I'd--Pierre, it was to get McGurk that you rode out to +the range. You've been here six years, and McGurk is still alive, and +now you're ready to run from his shadow." + +"Run?" he said hotly. "I swear to God that as I stand here I've no +fear of death and no hope for the life ahead." + +She sneered: "You're white while you say it. Your will may be brave, +but your blood's a coward, Pierre. It deserts you." + +"Jack, you devil--" + +"Aye, you can threaten me safely. But if McGurk were here--" + +"Let him come." + +"Pierre!" + +"I mean it." + +"Then give me one promise." + +"A thousand of 'em." + +"Let me hunt him with you." + +He stared at her with a mute wonder. She had never been so beautiful. + +"Jack, what a heart you have! If you were a man we could rule the +mountains, you and I." + +"Even as I am, what prevents us, Pierre?" + +And looking at her he forgot the sorrow which had been his ever since +he looked up to the face framed with red-gold hair and the dark tree +behind and the cold stars steady above it. It would come to him again, +but now it was gone, and he murmured, smiling: "I wonder?" + +They made their plans that night, sitting all three together. It was +better to go out and hunt the hunter than to wait there and be tracked +down. Jack, for she insisted on it, would ride out with Pierre the +next morning and hunt through the hills for the hiding-place of McGurk. + +Some covert he must have, so as to be near his victims. Nothing else +could explain the ease with which he kept on their track. They would +take the trail, and Jim Boone, no longer agile enough to be effective +on the trail, would guard the house and the body of Gandil in it. + +There was little danger that even McGurk would try to rush a hostile +house, but they took no chances. The guns of Jim Boone were given a +thorough overhauling, and he wore as usual at his belt the +heavy-handled hunting knife, a deadly weapon in a hand-to-hand fight. +Thus equipped, they left him and took the trail. + +They had not ridden a hundred yards when a whistle followed them, the +familiar whistle of the gang. They reined short and saw big Dick +Wilbur riding his bay after them, but at some distance he halted and +shouted: "Pierre!" + +"He's come back to us!" cried Jack. + +"No. It's only some message." + +"Do you know?" + +"Yes. Stay here. This is for me alone." + +And he rode back to Wilbur, who swung his horse close alongside. +However hard he had followed in the pursuit of happiness and the golden +hair of Mary Brown, his face was drawn with lines of age and his eyes +circled with shadows. + +He said: "I've kept close on her trail, Pierre, and the nearest she has +come to kindness has been to send me back with a message to you." + +He laughed without mirth, and the sound stopped abruptly. + +"This is the message in her own words: 'I love him, Dick, and there's +nothing in the world for me without him. Bring him back to me. I +don't care how; but bring him back.' So tell Jack to ride the trail +alone to-day and go back with me. I give her up, not freely, but +because I know there's no hope for me." + +But Pierre answered: "Wherever I've gone there's been luck for me and +hell for every one around me. I lived with a priest, Dick, and left +him when I was nearly old enough to begin repaying his care. I came +South and found a father and lost him the same day. I gambled for +money with which to bury him, and a man died that night and another was +hurt. I escaped from the town by riding a horse to death. I was +nearly killed in a landslide, and now the men who saved me from that +are done for. + +"It's all one story, the same over and over. Can I carry a fortune +like that back to her? Dick, it would haunt me by day and by night. +She would be the next. I know it as I know that I'm sitting in the +saddle here. That's my answer. Carry it back to her." + +"I won't lie and tell you I'm sorry, because I'm a fool and still have +a ghost of a hope, but this will be hard news to tell her, and I'd +rather give five years of life than face the look that will come in her +eyes." + +"I know it, Dick." + +"But this is final?" + +"It is." + +"Then good-bye again, and--God bless you, Pierre." + +"And you, old fellow." + +They swerved their horses in opposite directions and galloped apart. + +"It was nothing," said Pierre to Jack, when he came up with her and +drew his horse down to a trot. But he knew that she had read his mind, +and for an hour they could not look each other in the face. + +But all day through the mazes of canon and hill and rolling ground they +searched patiently. There was no cranny in the rocks too small for +them to reconnoiter with caution. There was no group of trees they did +not examine. + +Yet it was not strange that they failed. In the space of every square +mile there were a hundred hiding-places which might have served McGurk. +It would have taken a month to comb the country. They had only a day, +and left the result to chance, but chance failed them. When the +shadows commenced to swing across the gullies they turned back and rode +with downward heads, silent. + +One hill lay between them and the old ranch-house which had been the +headquarters for their gang so many days, when they saw a faint drift +of smoke across the sky--not a thin column of smoke such as rises from +a chimney, but a broad stream of pale mist, as if a dozen chimneys were +spouting wood-smoke at once. + +They exchanged glances and spurred their horses up the last slope. As +always in a short spurt, the long-legged black of Jacqueline +out-distanced the cream-colored mare, and it was she who first topped +the rise of land. The girl whirled in her saddle with raised arm, +screamed back at Pierre, and rode on at a still more furious pace. + +What he saw when he reached a corresponding position was the +ranch-house wreathed in smoke, and through all the lower windows was +the red dance of flames. Before him fled Jacqueline with all the speed +of the black. He loosened the reins, spoke to the mare, and she +responded with a mighty rush. Even that tearing pace could not quite +take him up to the girl, but he flung himself from the saddle and was +at her side when she ran across the smoking veranda and wrenched at the +front door. + +The whole frame gave back at her, and as Pierre snatched her to one +side the doorway fell crashing on the porch, while a mighty volume of +smoke burst out at them like a puff from the pit. + +They stood sputtering, coughing, and choking, and when they could look +again they saw a solid wall of red flame, thick, impenetrable, +shuddering with the breath of the wind. + +While they stared a stronger breath of that wind tore the wall of +flames apart, driving it back in a raging tide to either side. The +fire had circled the walls of the entire room, but it had scarcely +encroached on the center, and there, seated at the table, was Boone. + +He had scarcely changed from the position in which they last saw him, +save that he was fallen somewhat deeper in the chair, his head resting +against the top of the back. He greeted them, through that infernal +furnace, with laughter, and wide, steady eyes. At least it seemed +laughter, for the mouth was agape and the lips grinned back, but there +was no sound from the lips and no light in the fixed eyes. + +Laughter indeed it was, but it was the laughter of death, as if the +soul of the man, in dying, recognized its natural wild element and had +burst into convulsive mirth. So he sat there, untouched as yet by the +wide river of fire, chuckling at his destiny. The wall of fire closed +across the doorway again and the work of red ruin went on with a +crashing of timbers from the upper part of the building. + +As that living wall shut solidly, Jacqueline leaped forward, shouting, +like a man, words of hope and rescue; Pierre caught her barely in +time--a precarious grasp on the wrist from which she nearly wrenched +herself free and gained the entrance to the fire. But the jerk threw +her off balance for the least fraction of an instant, and the next +moment she was safe in his arms. + +Safe? He might as well have held a wildcat, or captured with his bare +hands a wild eagle, strong of talon and beak. She tore and raged in a +wild fury. + +"Pierre, coward, devil!" + +"Steady, Jack!" + +"Are you going to let him die?" + +"Don't you see? He's already dead." + +"You lie. You only fear the fire!" + +"I tell you, McGurk has been here before us." + +Her arm was freed by a twisting effort and she beat him furiously +across the face. One blow cut his lip and a steady trickle of hot +blood left a taste of salt in his mouth. + +"You young fiend!" he cried, and grasped both her wrists with a +crushing force. + +She leaned and gnashed at his hands, but he whirled her about and held +her from behind, impotent, raging still. + +"A hundred McGurks could never have killed him!" + +There was a sharp explosion from the midst of the fire. + +"See! He's fighting against his death!" + +"No! No! It's only the falling of a timber!" + +Yet with a panic at his heart he knew that it was the sharp crack of a +firearm. + +"Liar again! Pierre, for God's sake, do something for him. Father! +He's fighting for his life!" + +Another and another explosion from the midst of the fire. He +understood then. + +"The flames have reached his guns. That's all, Jack. Don't you see? +We'd be throwing ourselves away to run into those flames." + +Realization came to her at last. A heavy weight slumped down suddenly +over his arms. He held her easily, lightly. Her head had tilted back, +and the red flare of the fire beat across her face and throat. The +roar of the flames shut out all other thought of the world and cast a +wide inferno of light around them. + +Higher and higher rose the fires, and the wind cut off great fragments +and hurried them off into the night, blowing them, it seemed, straight +up against the piled thunder of the clouds. Then the roof sagged, +swayed, and fell crashing, while a vast cloud of sparks and livid fires +shot up a hundred feet into the air. It was as if the soul of old +Boone had departed in that final flare. + +It started the girl into sudden life, surprising Pierre, so that she +managed to wrench herself free and ran from him. He sprang after her +with a shout, fearing that in her hysteria she might fling herself into +the fire, but that was not her purpose. Straight to the black horse +she ran, swung into the saddle with the ease of a man, and rode +furiously off through the falling of the night. + +He watched her with a curious closing of loneliness like a hand about +his heart. He had failed, and because of that failure even Jacqueline +was leaving him. It was strange, for since the loss of the girl of the +yellow hair and those deep blue eyes, he had never dreamed that another +thing in life could pain him. + +So at length he mounted the mare again and rode slowly down the hill +and out toward the distant ranges, trotting mile after mile with +downward head, not caring even if McGurk should cross him, for surely +this was the final end of the world to Pierre le Rouge. + +About midnight he halted at last, for the uneasy sway of the mare +showed that she was nearly dead on her feet with weariness. He found a +convenient place for a camp, built his fire, and wrapped his blanket +about him without thinking of food. + +He never knew how long he sat there, for his thoughts circled the world +and back again and found all a prospect of desert before him and +behind, until a sound, a vague sound out of the night startled him into +alertness. He slipped from beside the fire and into the shadow of a +steep rock, watching with eyes that almost pierced the dark on all +sides. + +And there he saw her creeping up on the outskirts of the firelight, +prone on her hands and knees, dragging herself up like a young wildcat +hunting prey; it was the glimmer of her eyes that he caught first +through the gloom. A cold thought came to him that she had returned +with her gun ready. + +Inch by inch she came closer, and now he was aware of her restless +glances probing on all sides of the camp-fire. Silence--only the +crackling of a pitchy stick. And then he heard a muffled sound, soft, +soft as the beating of a heart in the night, and regularly pulsing. It +hurt him infinitely, and he called gently: "Jack, why are you weeping?" + +She started up with her fingers twisted at the butt of her gun. + +"It's a lie," called a tremulous voice. "Why should I weep?" + +And then she ran to him. + +"Oh, Pierre, I thought you were gone!" + +That silence which came between them was thick with understanding +greater than speech. He said at last: + +"I've made my plan. I am going straight for the higher mountains and +try to shake McGurk off my trail. There's one chance in ten I may +succeed, and if I do then I'll wait for my chance and come down on him, +for sooner or later we have to fight this out to the end." + +"I know a place he could never find," said Jacqueline. "The old cabin +in the gulley between the Twin Bears. We'll start for it to-night." + +"Not we," he answered. "Jack, here's the end of our riding together." + +She frowned with puzzled wonder. + +He explained: "One man is stronger than a dozen. That's the strength +of McGurk--that he rides alone. He's finished your father's men. +There's only Wilbur left, and Wilbur will go next--then me!" + +She stretched her hands to him. She seemed to be pleading for her very +life. + +"But if he finds us and has to fight us both--I shoot as straight as a +man, Pierre!" + +"Straighter than most. And you're a better pal than any I've ever +ridden with. But I must go alone. It's only a lone wolf that will +ever bring down McGurk. Think how he's rounded us up like a herd of +cattle and brought us down one by one." + +"By getting each man alone and killing him from behind." + +"From the front, Jack. No, he's fought square with each one. The +wounds of Black Gandil were all in front, and when McGurk and I meet +it's going to be face to face." + +Her tone changed, softened: "But what of me, Pierre?" + +"You have to leave this life. Go down to the city, Jack. Live like a +woman; marry some lucky fellow; be happy." + +"Can you leave me so easily?" + +"No, it's hard, devilish hard to part with a pal like you, Jack; but +all the rest of my life I've got hard things to face, partner." + +"Partner!" she repeated with an indescribable emphasis. "Pierre, I +can't leave you." + +"Why?" + +"I'm afraid to go. Let me stay!" + +He said gloomily: "No good will come of it." + +"I'll never trouble you--never!" + +"No, the bad luck comes on the people who are with me, but never on me. +It's struck them all down, one by one; your turn is next, Jack. If I +could leave the cross behind--" + +He covered his face, and groaned: "But I don't dare; I don't dare! I +have to face McGurk. Jack, I hate myself for it, but I can't help it. +I'm afraid of McGurk, afraid of that damned white face, that lowered, +fluttering eyelid, that sneering mouth. Without the cross to bring me +luck, how could I meet him? But while I keep the cross there's ruin +and hell without end for every one with me." + +She was white and shaking. She said: "I'm not afraid. I've one friend +left; there's nothing else to care for." + +"So it's to be this way, Jack?" + +"This way, and no other." + +"Partner, I'm glad. My God, Jack, what a man you would have made!" + +Their hands met and clung together, and her head had drooped, perhaps +in acquiescence. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI + +A GAME OF SUPPOSE + +Dick Wilbur, telling Mary how Pierre had cut himself adrift, did not +even pretend to sorrow, and she listened to him with her eyes fixed +steadily on his own. As a matter of fact, she had shown neither hope +nor excitement from the moment he came back to her and started to tell +his message. But if she showed neither hope nor excitement for +herself, surely she gave Dick still fewer grounds for any optimistic +foresights. + +So he finished gloomily: "And as far as I can make out, Pierre is +right. There's some rotten bad luck that follows him. It may not be +the cross--I don't suppose you believe in superstition like that, Miss +Brown?" + +She said: "It saved my life." + +"The cross?" + +"Yes." + +"Then Pierre--you mean--you met before the dance--you mean--" + +He was stammering so that he couldn't finish his thoughts, and she +broke in: "If he will not come to me, then I must go to him." + +"Follow Pierre le Rouge?" queried Wilbur. "Miss Brown, you're an +optimist. But that's because you've never seen him ride. I consider +it a good day's work to start out with him and keep within sight till +night, but as for following and overtaking him--ha, ha, ha, ha!" + +He laughed heartily at the thought. + +And she smiled a little sadly, answering: "But I have the most +boundless patience in the world. He may gallop all the way, but I will +walk, and keep on walking, and reach him in the end. I am not very +strong, but--" + +Her hands moved out as though testing their power, gripping at the air. + +"Where will you go to hunt for him?" + +"I don't know. But every evening, when I look out at the sunset hills, +with the purple along the valleys, I think that he must be out there +somewhere, going toward the highest ranges. If I were up in that +country I know that I could find him." + +"Never in a thousand years." + +"Why?" + +"Because he's on the trail--" + +"On the trail?" + +"Of McGurk." + +She started. + +"What is this man McGurk? I hear of him on all sides. If one of the +men rides a bucking horse successfully, some one is sure to say: 'Who +taught you what you know, Bud--McGurk?' And then the rest laugh. The +other day a man was pointed out to me as an expert shot. 'Not as fast +as McGurk,' it was said, 'but he shoots just as straight.' Finally I +asked some one about McGurk. The only answer I received was: 'I hope +you never find out what he is.' Tell me, what is McGurk?" + +Wilbur considered the question gravely. + +He said at last: "McGurk is--hell!" + +He expanded his statement: "Think of a man who can ride anything that +walks on four feet, who never misses with either a rifle or a revolver, +who doesn't know the meaning of fear, and then imagine that man living +by himself and fighting the rest of the world like a lone wolf. That's +McGurk. He's never had a companion; he's never trusted any man. +Perhaps that's why they say about him the same thing that they say +about me." + +"What's that?" + +"You will smile when you hear. They say that McGurk will lose out in +the end on account of some woman." + +"And they say that of you?" + +"They say right of me. I know it myself. Look at me now? What right +have I here? If I'm found I'm the meat of the first man who sights me, +but here I stay, and wait and watch for your smiles--like a love-sick +boy. By Jove, you must despise me, Mary!" + +"I don't try to understand you Westerners," she answered, "and that's +why I have never questioned you before. Tell me, why is it that you +come so stealthily to see me and run away as soon as any one else +appears?" + +He said with wonder: "Haven't you guessed?" + +"I don't dare guess." + +"But you have, and your guess was right. There's a price on my head. +By right, I should be out there on the ranges with Pierre le Rouge and +McGurk. There's the only safe place; but I saw you and I came down out +of the wilds and can't go back. I'll stay, I suppose, till I run my +head into a halter." + +She was too much moved to speak for a moment, and then: "You come to me +in spite of that? Dick, whatever you have done, I know that it's only +chance which made you go wrong, just as it made Pierre. I wish--" + +The dimness of her eyes encouraged him with a great hope. He stole +closer to her. + +He repeated: "You wish--" + +"That you could be satisfied with a mere friendship. I could give you +that, Dick, with all my heart." + +He stepped back and smiled somewhat grimly on her. + +She went on: "And this McGurk--what do you mean when you say that +Pierre is on his trail?" + +"Hunting him with a gun." + +She grew paler and trembled, but her voice remained steady. It was +always that way; at the very moment when he expected her to quail, some +inner strength bore her up and baffled him. + +"But in all those miles of mountains they may never meet?" + +"They can't stay apart any more than iron can stay away from a magnet. +Listen: half a dozen years ago McGurk had the reputation of bearing a +charmed life. He had been in a hundred fights and he was never touched +with either a knife or a bullet. Then he crossed Pierre le Rouge when +Pierre was only a youngster just come onto the range. He put two +bullets through Pierre, but the boy shot him from the floor and wounded +him for the first time. The charm of McGurk was broken. + +"For half a dozen years McGurk was gone; there was never a whisper +about him. Then he came back and went on the trail of Pierre. He has +killed the friends of Pierre one by one; Pierre himself is the next in +order--Pierre or myself. And when those two meet there will be the +greatest fight that was ever staged in the mountain-desert." + +She stood straight, staring past Wilbur with hungry eyes. + +"I knew he needed me. I have to save him, Dick. You see that? I have +to bring him down from the mountains and keep him safe from McGurk. +McGurk! somehow the sound means what 'devil' used to mean to me." + +"You've never traveled alone, and yet you'd go up there and brave +everything that comes for the sake of Pierre? What has he done to +deserve it, Mary?" + +"What have I done, Dick, to deserve the care you have for me?" + +He stared gloomily on her. + +"When do you start?" + +"To-night." + +"Your friends won't let you go." + +"I'll steal away and leave a note behind me." + +"And you'll go alone?" + +She caught at a hope. + +"Unless you'll go with me, Dick?" + +"I? Take you--to Pierre?" + +She did not speak to urge him, but in the silence her beauty pleaded +for her. + +He said: "Mary, how lovely you are. If I go I will have you for a few +days--for a week at most, all to myself." + +She shook her head. From the window behind her the sunset light flared +in her hair, flooding it with red-gold against which her skin was +marvelously delicate and white, and the eyes of the deepest blue. + +"All the time that we are gone, you will never say things like this, +Dick?" + +"I suppose not. I should be near you, but terribly far away from your +thoughts all the while. Still, you will be near. You will be very +beautiful, Mary, riding up the trail through the pines, with all the +scents of the evergreens blowing about you, and I--well, I must go back +to a second childhood and play a game of suppose--" + +"A game of what?" + +"Of supposing that you are really mine, Mary, and riding out into the +wilderness for my sake." + +She stepped a little closer, peering into his face. + +"No matter what you suppose, I'm sure you'll leave that part of it +merely a game, Dick!" + +He laughed suddenly, though the sound broke off as short and sharp as +it began. + +"Haven't I played a game all my life with the fair ladies? And have I +anything to show for it except laughter? I'll go with you, Mary, if +you'll let me." + +"Dick, you've a heart of gold! What shall I take?" + +"I'll make the pack up, and I'll be back here an hour after dark and +whistle. Like this--" + +And he gave the call of Boone's gang. + +"I understand. I'll be ready. Hurry, Dick, for we've very little +time." + +He hesitated, then: "All the time we're on the trail you must be far +from me, and at the end of it will be Pierre le Rouge--and happiness +for you. Before we start, Mary, I'd like to--" + +It seemed that she read his mind, for she slipped suddenly inside his +arms, kissed him, and was gone from the room. He stood a moment with a +hand raised to his face. + +"After all," he muttered, "that's enough to die for, and--" He threw +up his long arms in a gesture of infinite resignation. + +"The will of God be done!" said Wilbur, and laughed again. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII + +THE TRAIL + +She was ready, crouched close to the window of her room, when the +signal came, but first she was not sure, because the sound was as faint +as a memory. Moreover, it might have been a freakish whistling in the +wind, which rose stronger and stronger. It had piled the +thunder-clouds high and higher, and now and again a heavy drop of rain +tapped at her window like a thrown pebble. + +So she waited, and at last heard the whistle a second time, +unmistakably clear. In a moment she was hurrying down to the stable, +climbed into the saddle, and rode at a cautious trot out among the +sand-hills. + +For a time she saw no one, and commenced to fear that the whole thing +had been a gruesomely real, practical jest. So she stopped her horse +and imitated the signal whistle as well as she could. It was repeated +immediately behind her--almost in her ear, and she turned to make out +the dark form of a tall horseman. + +"A bad night for the start," called Wilbur. "Do you want to wait till +to-morrow?" + +She could not answer for a moment, the wind whipping against her face, +while a big drop stung her lips. + +She said at length: "Would a night like this stop Pierre--or McGurk?" + +For answer she heard his laughter. + +"Then I'll start. I must never stop for weather." + +He rode up beside her. + +"This is the start of the finish." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Nothing. But somewhere on this ride, I've an idea a question will be +answered for me." + +"What question?" + +Instead of replying he said: "You've got a slicker on?" + +"Yes." + +"Then follow me. We'll gallop into the wind a while and get the horses +warmed up. Afterward we'll take the valley of the Old Crow and follow +it up to the crest of the range." + +His horse lunged out ahead of hers, and she followed, leaning far +forward against a wind that kept her almost breathless. For several +minutes they cantered steadily, and before the end of the gallop she +was sitting straight up, her heart beating fast, a faint smile on her +lips, and the blood running hot in her veins. For the battle was +begun, she knew, by that first sharp gallop, and here at the start she +felt confident of her strength. When she met Pierre she could force +him to turn back with her. + +Wilbur checked his horse to a trot; they climbed a hill, and just as +the rain broke on them with a rattling gust they swung into the valley +of the Old Crow. Above them in the sky the thunder rode; the rain +whipped against the rocks like the rattle of a thousand flying hoofs; +and now and again the lightning flashed across the sky. + +Through that vast accompaniment they moved on in the night straight +toward the heart of the mountains which sprang into sight with every +flash of the lightning and seemed toppling almost above them, yet they +were weary miles away, as she knew. + +By those same flashes she caught glimpses of the face of Wilbur. She +hardly knew him. She had seen him always big, gentle, handsome, +good-natured; now he was grown harder, with a stern set of the jaw, and +a certain square outline of face. It had seemed impossible. Now she +began to guess how the law could have placed a price upon his head. +For he belonged out here with the night and the crash of the storm, +with free, strong, lawless things about him. + +An awe grew up in her, and she was filled half with dread and half with +curiosity at the thought of facing him, as she must many a time, across +the camp-fire. In a way, he was the ladder by which she climbed to an +understanding of Pierre le Rouge, Red Pierre. For that Pierre, she +knew, was to big Wilbur what Dick himself was to the great mass of +law-abiding men. Accident had cut Wilbur adrift, but it was more than +accident which started Pierre on the road to outlawry; it was the sheer +love of dangerous chance, the glory in fighting other men. This was +Pierre. + +What was the man for whom Pierre hunted? What was McGurk? Not even +the description of Wilbur had proved very enlightening. Her thought of +him was vague, nebulous, and taking many forms. Sometimes he was tall +and dark and stern. Again he was short and heavy and somewhat deformed +of body. But always he was everywhere in the night about her. + +She guessed at his voice rumbling through an echo of the thunder; she +heard the sound of his pursuing horse in the rattle of the following +rain. Her work was to keep this relentless lone rider away from +Pierre; it was as if she strove to keep the ocean tide away from the +shore. They seemed doomed to meet and shock. + +All this she pondered as they began the ride up the valley, but as the +long journey continued, and the hours and the miles rolled past them, a +racking weariness possessed her and numbed her mind. She began to wish +desperately for morning, but even morning might not bring an end to the +ride. That would be at the will of the outlaw beside her. Finally, +only one picture remained to her. It stabbed across the darkness of +her mind--the red hair and the keen eyes of Pierre. + +The storm decreased as they went up the valley. Finally the wind fell +off to a pleasant breeze, and the clouds of the rain broke in the +center of the heavens and toppled west in great tumbling masses. In +half an hour's time the sky was clear, and a cold moon looked down on +the blue-black evergreens, shining faintly with the wet, and on the +dead black of the mountains. + +For the first time in all that ride her companion spoke: "In an hour +the gray will begin in the east. Suppose we camp here, eat, get a bit +of sleep, and then start again?" + +As if she had waited for permission, fighting against her weariness, +she now let down the bars of her will, and a tingling stupor swept over +her body and broke in hot, numbing waves on her brain. + +"Whatever you say. I'm afraid I couldn't ride much further to-night." + +"Look up at me." + +She raised her head. + +"No; you're all in. But you've made a game ride. I never dreamed +there was so much iron in you. We'll make our fire just inside the +trees and carry water up from the river, eh?" + +A scanty growth of the evergreens walked over the hills and skirted +along the valley, leaving a broad, sandy waste in the center where the +river at times swelled with melted snow or sudden rains and rushed over +the lower valley in a broad, muddy flood. + +At the edge of the forest he picketed the horses in a little open space +carpeted with wet, dead grass. It took him some time to find dry wood. +So he wrapped her in blankets and left her sitting on a saddle. As the +chill left her body she began to grow delightfully drowsy, and vaguely +she heard the crack of his hatchet. He had found a rotten stump and +was tearing off the wet outer bark to get at the dry wood within. + +After that it was only a moment before a fire sputtered feebly and +smoked at her feet. She watched it, only half conscious, in her utter +weariness, and seeing dimly the hollow-eyed face of the man who stooped +above the blaze. Now it grew quickly, and increased to a sharp-pointed +pyramid of red flame. The bright sparks showered up, crackling and +snapping, and when she followed their flight she saw the darkly nodding +tops of the evergreens above her. + +With the fire well under way, he took the coffee-pot to get water from +the river, and left her to fry the bacon. The fumes of the frying meat +wakened her at once, and brushed even the thought of her exhaustion +from her mind. She was hungry--ravenously hungry. + +So she tended the bacon slices with care until they grew brown and +crisped and curled at the edges. After that she removed the pan from +the fire, and it was not until then that she began to wonder why Wilbur +was so long in returning with the water. The bacon grew cold; she +heated it again and was mightily tempted to taste one piece of it, but +restrained herself to wait for Dick. + +Still he did not come. She stood up and called, her high voice rising +sharp and small through the trees. It seemed that some sound answered, +so she smiled and sat down. Ten minutes passed and he was still gone. +A cold alarm swept over her at that. She dropped the pan and ran out +from the trees. + +Everywhere was the bright moonlight--over the wet rocks, and sand, and +glimmering on the slow tide of the river, but nowhere could she see +Wilbur, or a form that looked like a man. Then the moonlight glinted +on something at the edge of the river. She ran to it and found the +coffee-can half in the water and partially filled with sand. + +A wild temptation to scream came over her, but the tight muscles of her +throat let out no sound. But if Wilbur were not here, where had he +gone? He could not have vanished into thin air. The ripple of the +water washing on the sand replied. Yes, that Current might have rolled +his body away. + +To shut out the grim sight of the river she turned. Stretched across +the ground at her feet she saw clearly the impression of a body in the +moist sand. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII + +A HINT OF WHITE + +The heels had left two deeply defined gouges in the ground; there was a +sharp hollow where the head had lain, and a broad depression for the +shoulders. It was the impression of the body of a man--a large man +like Wilbur. Any hope, any doubt she might have had, slipped from her +mind, and despair rolled into it with an even, sullen current, like the +motion of the river. + +It is strange what we do with our big moments of fear and sorrow and +even of joy. Now Mary stooped and carefully washed out the coffee-pot, +and filled it again with water higher up the bank; and turned back +toward the edge of the trees. + +It was all subconscious, this completing of the task which Wilbur had +begun, and subconscious still was her careful rebuilding of the fire +till it flamed high, as though she were setting a signal to recall the +wanderer. But the flame, throwing warmth and red light across her +eyes, recalled her sharply to reality, and she looked up and saw the +dull dawn brightening beyond the dark evergreens. + +Guilt, too, swept over her, for she remembered what big, handsome Dick +Wilbur had said: He would meet his end through a woman. Now it had +come to him, and through her. + +She cringed at the thought, for what was she that a man should die in +her service? She raised her hands with a moan to the nodding tops of +the trees, to the vast, black sky above them, and the full knowledge of +Wilbur's strength came to her, for had he not ridden calmly, defiantly, +into the heart of this wilderness, confident in his power to care both +for himself and for her? But she! What could she do wandering by +herself? The image of Pierre le Rouge grew dim indeed and sad and +distant. + +She looked about her at the pack, which had been distributed expertly, +and disposed on the ground by Wilbur. She could not even lash it in +place behind the saddle. So she drew the blanket once more around her +shoulders and sat down to think. + +She might return to the house--doubtless she could find her way back. +And leave Pierre in the heart of the mountains, surely lost to her +forever. She made a determination, sullen, like a child, to ride on +and on into the wilderness, and let fate take care of her. The pack +she could bundle together as best she might; she would live as she +might; and for a guide there would be the hunger for Pierre. + +So she ended her thoughts with a hope; her head nodded lower, and she +slept the deep, deep sleep of the exhausted mind and the lifeless body. +She woke hours later with a start, instantly alert, quivering with fear +and life and energy, for she felt like one who has gone to sleep with +voices in his ear. + +While she slept some one had been near her; she could have sworn it +before her startled eyes glanced around. + +And though she kept whispering, with white lips, "No, no; it is +impossible!" yet there was evidence which proved it. The fire should +have burned out, but instead it flamed more brightly than ever, and +there was a little heap of fuel laid conveniently close. Moreover, +both horses were saddled, and the pack lashed on the saddle of her own +mount. + +Whatever man or demon had done this work evidently intended that she +should ride Wilbur's beautiful bay. Yes, for when she went closer, +drawn by her wonder, she found that the stirrups had been much +shortened. + +Nothing was forgotten by this invisible caretaker; he had even left out +the cooking-tins, and she found a little batter of flapjack flour mixed. + +The riddle was too great for solving. Perhaps Wilbur had disappeared +merely to play a practical jest on her; but that supposition was too +childish to be retained an instant. Perhaps--perhaps Pierre himself +had discovered her, but having vowed never to see her again, he cared +for her like the invisible hands in the old Greek fable. + +This, again, an instinctive knowledge made her dismiss. If he were so +close, loving her, he could not stay away; she read in her own heart, +and knew. Then it must be something else; evil, because it feared to +be seen; not wholly evil, because it surrounded her with care. + +At least this new emotion obscured somewhat the terror and the sorrow +of Wilbur's disappearance. She cooked her breakfast as if obeying the +order of the unseen, climbed into the saddle of Wilbur's horse, and +started off up the valley, leading her own mount. + +Every moment or so she turned in the saddle suddenly in the hope of +getting a glimpse of the follower, but even when she surveyed the +entire stretch of country from the crest of a low hill, she saw +nothing--not the least sign of life. + +She rode slowly, this day, for she was stiff and sore from the violent +journey of the night before, but though she went slowly, she kept +steadily at the trail. It was a broad and pleasant one, being the +beaten sand of the river-bottom; and the horse she rode was the finest +that ever pranced beneath her. + +His trot was as smooth and springy as the gallop of most horses, and +when she let him run over a few level stretches, it was as if she had +suddenly been taken up from the earth on wings. There was something +about the animal, too, which reminded her of its vanished owner; for it +had strength and pride and gentleness at once. Unquestionably it took +kindly to its new rider; for once when she dismounted the big horse +walked up behind and nuzzled her shoulder. + +The mountains were much plainer before the end of the day. They rose +sheer up in wave upon frozen wave like water piled ragged by some +terrific gale, with the tops of the waters torn and tossed and then +frozen forever in that position, like a fantastic and gargantuan mask +of dreaming terror. It overawed the heart of Mary Brown to look up to +them, but there was growing in her a new impulse of friendly +understanding with all this scalped, bald region of rocks, as if in +entering the valley she had passed through the gate which closes out +the gentler world, and now she was admitted as a denizen of the +mountain-desert, that scarred and ugly asylum for crime and fear and +grandeur. + +Feeling this new emotion, the old horizons of her mind gave way and +widened; her gentle nature, which had known nothing but smiles, +admitted the meaning of a frown. Did she not ride under the very +shadow of that frown with her two horses? Was she not armed? She +touched the holster at her hip, and smiled. To be sure, she could +never hit a mark with that ponderous weapon, but at least the pistol +gave the seeming of a dangerous lone rider, familiar with the wilds. + +It was about dark, and she was on the verge of looking about for a +suitable camping-place, when the bay halted sharply, tossed up his +head, and whinnied. From the far distance she thought she heard the +beginning of a whinny in reply. She could not be sure, but the +possibility made her pulse quicken. In this region, she knew, no +stranger could be a friend. + +So she started the bay at a gallop and put a couple of swift miles +between her and the point at which she had heard the sound; no living +creature, she was sure, could have followed the pace the bay held +during that distance. So, secure in her loneliness, she trotted the +horse around a bend of the rocks and came on the sudden light of a +camp-fire. + +It was too late to wheel and gallop away; so she remained with her hand +fumbling at the butt of the revolver, and her wide, blue eyes fixed on +the flicker of the fire. Not a voice accosted her. As far as she +could peer among the lithe trunks of the saplings, not a sign of a +living thing was near. + +Yet whoever built that fire must be near, for it was obviously, newly +laid. Perhaps some fleeing outlaw had pitched his camp here and had +been startled by her coming. In that case he lurked somewhere in the +woods at that moment, his keen eyes fixed on her, and his gun gripped +hard in his hand. Perhaps--and the thought thrilled her--this little +camp had been prepared by the same power, human or unearthly, which had +watched over her early that morning. + +All reason and sane caution warned her to ride on and leave that camp +unmolested, but an overwhelming, tingling curiosity besieged her. The +thin column of smoke rose past the dark trees like a ghost, and +reaching the unsheltered space above the trees, was smitten by a light +wind and jerked away at a sharp angle. + +She looked closer and saw a bed made of a great heap of the tips of +limbs of spruce, a bed softer than down and more fragrant than any +manufactured perfume, however costly. + +Possibly it was the sight of this bed which tempted her down from the +saddle, at last. With the reins over her arm, she stood close to the +fire and warmed her hands, peering all the while on every side, like +some wild and beautiful creature tempted by the bait of the trap, but +shrinking from the scent of man. + +As she stood there a broad, yellow moon edged its way above the hills +and rolled up through the black trees and then floated through the sky. +Beneath such a moon no harm could come to her. It was while she stared +at it, letting her tensed alertness relax little by little, that she +saw, or thought she saw, a hint of moving white pass over the top of +the rise of ground and disappear among the trees. + +She could not be sure, but her first impulse was to gather the reins +with a jerk and place her foot in the stirrup; but then she looked back +and saw the fire, burning low now and asking like a human voice to be +replenished from the heap of small, broken fuel near by; and she saw +also the softly piled bed of evergreens. + +She removed her foot from the stirrup. What mattered that imaginary +figure of moving white? She felt a strong power of protection lying +all about her, breathing out to her with the keen scent of the pines, +fanning her face with the chill of the night breeze. She was alone, +but she was secure in the wilderness. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX + +JACK + +For many a minute she waited by that camp-fire, but there was never a +sign of the builder of it, though she centered all her will in making +her eyes and ears sharper to pierce through the darkness and to gather +from the thousand obscure whispers of the forest any sounds of human +origin. So she grew bold at length to take off the pack and the +saddles; the camp was hers, built for her coming by the invisible power +which surrounded her, which read her mind, it seemed, and chose +beforehand the certain route which she must follow. + +She resigned herself to that force without question, and the worry of +her search disappeared. It seemed certain that this omnipotence, +whatever it might be, was reading her wishes and acting with all its +power to fulfill them, so that in the end it was merely a question of +time before she should accomplish her mission--before she should meet +Pierre le Rouge face to face. + +That night her sleep was deep, indeed, and she only wakened when the +slant light of the sun struck across her eyes. It was a bright day, +crisp and chill, and through the clear air the mountains seemed leaning +directly above her, and chief of all two peaks, almost exactly similar, +black monsters which ruled the range. Toward the gorge between them +the valley of the Old Crow aimed its course, and straight up that +diminishing canon she rode all day. + +The broad, sandy bottom changed and contracted until the channel was +scarcely wide enough for the meager stream of water, and beside it she +picked her way along a narrow bridle-path with banks on either side, +which became with every mile more like cliffs, walling her in and +dooming her to a single destination. + +It was evening before she came to the headwaters of the Old Crow, and +rode out into the gorge between the two mountains. The trail failed +her here. There was no semblance of a ravine to follow, except the +mighty gorge between the two peaks, and into the dark throat of this +pass she ventured, like some maiden of medieval romance riding through +a solemn gate with the guarding towers tall and black on either side. + +The moment she was well started in it and the steep shadow of the +evening fell across her almost like night from the west, her heart grew +cold as the air of that lofty region. A sense of coming danger filled +her, like a little child when it passes from a lighted room into one +dark and still. Yet she kept on, holding a tight rein, throwing many a +fearful glance at the vast rocks which might have concealed an entire +army in every mile of their extent. + +When she found the cabin she mistook it at first for merely another +rock of singular shape. It was at this shape that she stared, and +checked her horse, and not till then did she note the faint flicker of +a light no brighter or more distinct than the phosphorescent glow of +the eyes of a hunted beast. + +All her impulse was to drive her spurs home and pass that place at a +racing gallop, but she checked the impulse sharply and began to reason. +In the first place, it was doubtless only the cabin of some prospector, +such as she had often heard of. In the second place, night was almost +upon her, and she saw no desirable camping-place, or at least any with +the necessary water at hand. + +What harm could come to her? Among Western men, she well knew a woman +is safer than all the law and the police of the settled East can make +her, so she nerved her courage and advanced toward the faint, changing +light. + +The cabin was hidden very cunningly. Crouched among the mighty +boulders which earthquakes and storms of some wilder, earlier epoch had +torn away from the side of the crags above, the house was like another +stone, leaning its back to the mountain for support. + +When she drew very close she knew that the light which glimmered at the +window must come from an open fire, and the thought of a fire warmed +her very heart. She hallooed, and receiving no answer, fastened the +horses and entered the house. The door swung to behind her, as if of +its own volition it wished to make her close prisoner. + +The place consisted of one room, and not a spacious one at that, but +arranged as a shelter, not a home. The cooking, apparently, was done +over the open hearth, for there was no sign of any stove, and, +moreover, on the wall near the fireplace hung several soot-blackened +pans and the inevitable coffee-pot. + +There were two bunks built on opposite sides of the room, and in the +middle a table was made of a long section split from the heart of a log +by wedges, apparently, and still rude and undressed, except for the +preliminary smoothing off which had been done with a broad-ax. + +The great plank was supported at either end by a roughly constructed +saw-buck. It was very low, and for this reason two fairly square +boulders of comfortable proportions were sufficiently high to serve as +chairs. + +For the rest, the furniture was almost too meager to suggest human +habitation, but from nails on the wall there depended a few shirts and +a pair of chaps, as well as a much-battered quirt. But a bucket of +water in a corner suggested cleanliness, and a small, round, highly +polished steel plate, hanging on the wall in lieu of a mirror, further +fortified her decision that the owner of this place must be a man +somewhat particular as to his appearance. + +Here she interrupted her observations to build up the fire, which was +flickering down and apparently on the verge of going out. She worked +busily for a few minutes, and a roaring blaze rewarded her; she took +off her slicker to enjoy the warmth, and in doing so, turned, and saw +the owner of the place standing with folded arms just inside the door. + +"Making yourself to home?" asked the host, in a low, strangely pleasant +voice. + +"Do you mind?" asked Mary Brown. "I couldn't find a place that would +do for camping." + +And she summoned her most winning smile. It was wasted, she knew at +once, for the stranger hardened perceptibly, and his lip curled +slightly in scorn or anger. In all her life Mary had never met a man +so obdurate, and, moreover, she felt that he could not be wooed into a +good humor. + +"If you'd gone farther up the gorge," said the other, "you'd of found +the best sort of a campin' place--water and everything." + +"Then I'll go," said Mary, shrinking at the thought of the strange, +cold outdoors compared with this cheery fire. But she put on the +slicker and started for the door. + +At the last moment the host was touched with compunction. He called: +"Wait a minute. There ain't no call to hurry. If you can get along +here just stick around." + +For a moment Mary hesitated, knowing that only the unwritten law of +Western hospitality compelled that speech; it was the crackle and flare +of the bright fire which overcame her pride. + +She laid off the slicker again, saying, with another smile: "For just a +few minutes, if you don't mind." + +"Sure," said the other gracelessly, and tossed his own slicker onto a +bunk. + +Covertly, but very earnestly, Mary was studying him. He was hardly +more than a boy--handsome, slender. + +Now that handsome face was under a cloud of gloom, a frown on the +forehead and a sneer on the lips, but it was something more than the +expression which repelled Mary. For she felt that no matter how she +wooed him, she could never win the sympathy of this darkly handsome, +cruel youth; he was aloof from her, and the distance between them could +never be crossed. She knew at once that the mysterious bridges which +link men with women broke down in this case, and she was strongly +tempted to leave the cabin to the sole possession of her surly host. + +It was the warmth of the fire which once more decided against her +reason, so she laid hands on one of the blocks of stone to roll it +nearer to the hearth. She could not budge it. Then she caught the +sneering laughter of the man, and strove again in a fury. It was no +use; for the stone merely rocked a little and settled back in its place +with a bump. + +"Here," said the boy, "I'll move it for you." + +It was a hard lift for him, but he set his teeth, raised the stone in +his slender hands, and set it down again at a comfortable distance from +the fire. + +"Thank you," smiled Mary, but the boy stood panting against the wall, +and for answer merely bestowed on her a rather malicious glance of +triumph, as though he gloried in his superior strength and despised her +weakness. + +Some conversation was absolutely necessary, for the silence began to +weigh on her. She said: "My name is Mary Brown." + +"Is it?" said the boy, quite without interest. "You can call me Jack." + +He sat down on the other stone, his dark face swept by the shadows of +the flames, and rolled a cigarette, not deftly, but like one who is +learning the mastery of the art. It surprised Mary, watching his +fumbling fingers. She decided that Jack must be even younger than he +looked. + +She noticed also that the boy cast, from time to time, a sharp, rather +worried glance of expectation toward the door, as if he feared it would +open and disclose some important arrival. Furthermore, those old worn +shirts hanging on the wall were much too large for the throat and +shoulders of Jack. + +Apparently, he lived there with some companion, and a companion of such +a nature that he did not wish him to be seen by visitors. This +explained the lad's coldness in receiving a guest; it also stimulated +Mary to linger about a few more minutes. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX + +THE WHISPER OF THE KNIFE + +Not that she stayed there without a growing fear, but she still felt +about her, like the protection of some invisible cloak, the presence of +the strange guide who had followed her up the valley of the Old Crow. + +It seemed as if the boy were reading her mind. + +"See you got two horses. Come up alone?" + +"Most of the way," said Mary, and tingled with a rather feline pleasure +to see that her curtness merely sharpened the interest of Jack. + +The boy puffed on his cigarette, not with long, slow breaths of +inhalation like a practised smoker, but with a puckered face as though he +feared that the fumes might drift into his eyes. + +"Why," thought Mary, "he's only a child!" + +Her heart warmed a little as she adopted this view-point of her surly +host. Being warmed, and having much to say, words came of themselves. +Surely it would do no harm to tell the story to this queer urchin, who +might be able to throw some light on the nature of the invisible +protector. + +"I started with a man for guide." She fixed a searching gaze on the boy. +"His name was Dick Wilbur." + +She could not tell whether it was a tremble of the boy's hand or a short +motion to knock off the cigarette ash. + +"Did you say 'was' Dick Wilbur?" + +"Yes. Did you know him?" + +"Heard of him, I think. Kind of a hard one, wasn't he?" + +"No, no! A fine, brave, gentle fellow--poor Dick!" + +She stopped, her eyes filling with tears at many a memory. + +"H-m!" coughed the boy. "I thought he was one of old Boone's gang? If +he's dead, that made the last of 'em--except Red Pierre." + +It was like the sound of a trumpet call at her ear. Mary sat up with a +start. + +"What do you know of Red Pierre?" + +The boy flushed a little, and could not quite meet her eye. + +"Nothin'." + +"At least you know that he's still alive?" + +"Sure. Any one does. When he dies the whole range will know about +it--damn quick. I know _that_ much about Red Pierre; but who doesn't?" + +"I, for one." + +"You!" + +Strangely enough, there was more of accusation than of surprise in the +word. + +"Certainly," repeated Mary. "I've only been in this part of the country +for a short time. I really know almost nothing about the--the legends." + +"Legends?" said the boy, and laughed with a voice of such rich, light +music that it took the breath from Mary. "Legend? Say, lady, if Red +Pierre is just a legend the Civil War ain't no more'n a fable. Legend? +You go anywhere on the range an' get 'em talking about that legend, and +they'll make you think it's an honest-to-goodness fact, and no mistake." + +Mary queried earnestly: "Tell me about Red Pierre. It's almost as hard +to learn anything of him as it is to find out anything about McGurk." + +"What you doing?" asked the boy, keen with suspicion. "Making a study of +them two for a book?" + +He wiped a damp forehead. + +"Take it from me, lady, it ain't healthy to join up them two even in +talk!" + +"Is there any harm in words?" + +The boy was so upset for some unknown reason that he rose and paced up +and down the room in a nervous tremor. + +"Lots of harm in fool words." + +He sat down again, and seemed a little anxious to explain his unusual +conduct. + +"Ma'am, suppose you had a well plumb full of nitroglycerin in your back +yard; suppose there was a forest fire comin' your way from all sides; +would you like to have people talk about the nitroglycerin and that +forest fire meeting? Even the talk would give you chills. That's the +way it is with Pierre and McGurk. When they meet there's going to be a +fight that'll stop the hearts of the people that have to look on." + +Mary smiled to cover her excitement. + +"But are they coming your way?" + +The question seemed to infuriate young Jack, who cried: "Ain't that a +fool way of talkin'? Lady, they're coming every one's way. You never +know where they'll start from or where they'll land. If there's a +thunder-cloud all over the sky, do you know where the lightning's going +to strike?" + +"Excuse me,", said Mary, but she was still eager with curiosity, "but I +should think that a youngster like you wouldn't have anything to fear +from even those desperadoes." + +"Youngster, eh?" snarled the boy, whose wrath seemed Implacable. "I can +make my draw and start my gun as fast as any man--except them two, +maybe"--he lowered his voice somewhat even to name them--"Pierre--McGurk!" + +"It seems hopeless to find out anything about McGurk," said Mary, "but at +least you can tell me safely about Red Pierre." + +"Interested in him, eh?" said the boy dryly. + +"Well, he's a rather romantic figure, don't you think?" + +"Romantic? Lady, about a month ago I was talking with a lady that was a +widow because of Red Pierre. She didn't think him none too romantic." + +"Red Pierre had killed the woman's husband?" repeated Mary, with pale +lips. + +"Yep. He was one of the gang that took a chance with Pierre and got +bumped off. Had three bullets in him and dropped without getting his gun +out of the leather. Pierre sure does a nice, artistic job. He serves +you a murder with all the trimmings. If I wanted to die nice and polite +without making a mess, I don't know who I'd rather go to than Red Pierre." + +"A murderer!" mused Mary, with bowed head. + +The boy opened his lips to speak, but changed his mind and sat regarding +the girl with a somewhat sinister smile. + +"But might it not be," said Mary, "that he killed one man in self-defense +and then his destiny drove him, and bad luck forced him into one bad +position after another? There have been histories as strange as that, +you know." + +Jack laughed again, but most of the music was gone from the sound, and it +was simply a low, ominous purr. + +"Sure," he said. "You can take a bear-cub and keep him tame till he gets +the taste of blood, but after that you got to keep him muzzled, you know. +Pierre needs a muzzle, but there ain't enough gun-fighters on the range +to put one on him." + +Something like pride crept into the boy's voice while he spoke, and he +ended with a ringing tone. Then, feeling the curious, judicial eyes of +Mary upon him, he abruptly changed the subject. + +"You say Dick Wilbur is dead?" + +"I don't know. I think he is." + +"But he started out with you. You ought to know." + +"It was like this: We had camped on the edge of the trees coming up the +Old Crow Valley, and Dick went off with the can to get water at the +river. He was gone a long time, and when I went out to look for him I +found the can at the margin of the river half filled with sand, and +beside it there was the impression of the body of a big man. That was +all I found, and Dick never came back." + +They were both silent for a moment. + +"Could he have fallen into the river?" + +"Sure. He was probably helped in. Did you look for the footprints?" + +"I didn't think of that." + +Jack was speechless with scorn. + +"Sat down and cried, eh?" + +"I was dazed; I couldn't think. But he couldn't have been killed by some +other man. There was no shot fired; I should have heard it." + +Jack moistened his lips. + +"Lady, a knife don't make much sound either going or coming out--not much +more sound than a whisper, but that whisper means a lot. I got an idea +that Dick heard it. Then the river covered him up." + +He stopped short and stared at Mary with squinted eyes. + +"D'you mean to tell me that you had the nerve to come all the way up the +Old Crow by yourself?" + +"Every inch of the way." + +Jack leaned forward, sneering, savage. + +"Then I suppose you put the hitch that's on that pack outside?" + +"No." + +Jack was dumfounded. + +"Then you admit--" + +"That first night when I went to sleep I felt as if there were something +near me. When I woke up there was a bright fire burning in front of me +and the pack had been lashed and placed on one of the horses. At first I +thought that it was Dick, who had come back. But Dick didn't appear all +day. The next night--" + +"Wait!" said Jack. "This is gettin' sort of creepy. If you was the +drinking kind I'd say you'd been hitting up the red-eye." + +"The next evening," continued Mary steadily, "I came about dark on a +camp-fire with a bed of twigs near it. I stayed by the fire, but no one +appeared. Once I thought I heard a horse whinny far away, and once I +thought that I saw a streak of white disappear over the top of a hill." + +The boy sprang up, shuddering with panic. + +"You saw what?" + +"Nothing. I thought for a minute that it was a bit of something white, +but it was gone all at once." + +"White--vanished at once--went into the dark as fast as a horse can +gallop?" + +"Something like that. Do you think it was some one?" + +For answer the boy whipped out his revolver, examined it, and spun the +cylinder with shaking hands. Then he said through set teeth: "So you +come up here trailin' _him_ after you, eh?" + +"Who?" + +"McGurk!" + +The name came like a rifle shot and Mary rose in turn and shrank back +toward the wall, for there was murder in the lighted black eyes which +stared after her and crumbling fear in her own heart at the thought of +McGurk hovering near,--of the peril that impended for Pierre. Of the +nights in the valley of the Crow she refused to let herself think. Cold +beads of perspiration stood out on her forehead. + +"You fool--you fool! Damn your pretty pink-and-white face--you've done +for us all! Get out!" + +Mary moved readily enough toward the door, her teeth chattering with +terror in the face of this fury. + +Jack continued wildly: "Done for us all; got us all as good as under the +sod. I wish you was in-- Get out quick, or I'll forget--you're a woman!" + +He broke into a shrill, hysterical laughter, which stopped short and +finished in a heart-broken whisper: "Pierre!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI + +LAUGHTER + +At that Mary, who stood with her hand on the latch, whirled and stood +wide-eyed, her astonishment greater than her fear, for that whisper +told her a thousand things. + +Through her mind all the time that she stayed in the cabin there had +passed a curious surmise that this very place might be the covert of +Pierre le Rouge--he of the dark red hair and the keen blue eyes. There +was a fatality about it, for the invisible Power which had led her up +the valley of the Old Crow surely would not make mistakes. + +In her search for Pierre, Providence brought her to this place, and +Providence could not be wrong. This, a vague emotion stirring in her +somewhere between reason and the heart, grew to an almost certain +knowledge as she heard the whisper, the faint, heartbroken whisper: +"Pierre!" + +And when she turned to the boy again, noting the shirts and the chaps +hanging at the wall, she knew they belonged to Pierre as surely as if +she had seen him hang them there. + +The fingers of Jack were twisted around the butt of his revolver, white +with the intensity of the pressure. + +Now he cried: "Get out! You've done your work; get out!" + +But Mary stepped straight toward the murderous, pale face. + +"I'll stay," she said, "and wait for Pierre." + +The boy blanched. + +"Stay?" he echoed. + +The heart of Mary went out to this trusty companion who feared for his +friend. + +She said gently: "Listen; I've come all this way looking for Pierre, +but not to harm him, or to betray him, I'm his friend. Can't you trust +me, Jack?" + +"Trust you? No more than I'll trust what came with you!" + +And the fierce black eyes lingered on Mary and then fled past her +toward the door, as if the boy debated hotly and silently whether or +not it would be better to put an end to this intruder, but stayed his +hand, fearing that Power which had followed her up the valley of the +Old Crow. + +It was that same invisible guardian who made Mary strong now; it was +like the hand of a friend on her shoulder, like the voice of a friend +whispering reassuring words at her ear. She faced those blazing, black +eyes steadily. It would be better to be frank, wholly frank. + +"This is the house of Pierre. I know it as surely as if I saw him +sitting here now. You can't deceive me. And I'll stay. I'll even +tell you why. Once he said that he loved me, Jack, but he left me +because of a strange superstition; and so I've followed to tell him +that I want to be near no matter what fate hangs over him." + +And the boy, whiter still, and whiter, looked at her with clearing, +narrowing eyes. + +"So you're one of them," said the boy softly; "you're one of the fools +who listen to Red Pierre. Well, I know you; I've known you from the +minute I seen you crouched there at the fire. You're the one Pierre +met at the dance at the Crittenden schoolhouse. Tell me!" + +"Yes," said Mary, marveling greatly. + +"And he told you he loved you?" + +"Yes." + +It was a fainter voice now, and the color was going up her cheeks. + +The lad fixed her with his cold scorn and then turned on his heel and +slipped into an easy position on the bunk. + +"Then wait for him to come. He'll be here before morning." + +But Mary followed across the room and touched the shoulder of Jack. It +was as if she touched a wild wolf, for the lad whirled and struck her +hand away in an outburst of silent fury. + +"Why shouldn't I stay? He hasn't--he hasn't changed--Jack?" + +The insolent black eyes looked up and scanned her slowly from head to +foot. Then he laughed in the same deliberate manner. It was to Mary +as if her clothes had been torn from her body and she were exposed to +the bold eyes of a crowd, like a slave put up for sale. + +"No, I guess he thinks as much of you now as he ever did." + +"You are lying to me," said the girl faintly, but the terror in her +eyes said another thing. + +"He thinks as much of you as he ever did. He thinks as much of you as +he does of the rest of the soft-handed, pretty-faced fools who listen +to him and believe him. I suppose----" + +He broke off to laugh heartily again, with a jarring, forced note which +escaped Mary. + +"I suppose that he made love to you one minute and the next told you +that bad luck--something about the cross--kept him away from you?" + +Each slow word, like a blow of a fist, drove the girl quivering back. +She closed her eyes to shut out the scorn of that handsome, boyish +face; closed her eyes to summon out from the dark of her mind the +picture of Pierre le Rouge as he had knelt before her and told her of +his love; of Pierre le Rouge as he had lain beside her with the small, +shining cross held high above his head, and waited for death to come +over them both. She saw all this, and then she heard the voice of +Pierre renouncing her. + +She opened her eyes again. She cried: + +"It is all a lie! If he is not true, there's no truth in the world." + +"If you come down to that," said the boy coldly, "there ain't much +wasted this side of the Rockies. It's about as scarce as rain." + +He continued in an almost kindly tone: "What would you do with a wild +man like Red Pierre? Run along; git out of here; grab your horse, and +beat it back to civilization; there ain't no place for you up here in +the wilderness." + +"What would I do with him?" cried the girl. + +"Love him!" + +It seemed as though her words, like whips, lashed the boy back to his +murderous anger. He lay with blazing eyes, watching her for a moment, +too moved to speak. At last he propped himself on one elbow, shook a +small, white-knuckled fist under the nose of Mary, and cried: "Then +what would he do with you?" + +He went on: "Would he wear you around his neck like a watch charm?" + +"I'd bring him back with me--back into the East, and he would be lost +among the crowds and never suspected of his past." + +"_You'd_ bring Pierre anywhere? Say, lady, that's like hearing the +sheep talk about leading the wolf around by the nose. If all the men +in the ranges can't catch him, or make him budge an inch out of the way +he's picked, do you think you could stir him?" + +Jeering laughter shook him; it seemed that he would never be done with +his laughter, yet there was a hint of the hysterically mirthless in it. +It came to a jarring stop. + +He said: "D'you think he's just bein' driven around by chance? Lady, +d'you think he even wants to get out of this life of his? No, he loves +it! He loves the danger. D'you think a man that's used to breathing +in a whirlwind can get used to living in calm air? It can't be done!" + +And the girl answered steadily: "For every man there is one woman, and +for that woman the man will do strange things." + +"You poor, white-raced, whimpering fool," snarled the boy, gripping at +his gun again, "d'you dream that _you're_ the one that's picked out for +Pierre? No, there's another!" + +"Another? A woman who----" + +"Who loves Pierre--a woman that's fit for him. She can ride like a +man; she can shoot almost as straight and as fast as Pierre; she can +handle a knife; and she's been through hell for Pierre, and she'll go +through it again. She can ride the trail all day with him and finish +it less fagged than he is. She can chop down a tree as well as he can, +and build a fire better. She can hold up a train with him or rob a +bank and slip through a town in the middle of the night and laugh with +him about it afterward around a camp-fire. I ask you, is that the sort +of a woman that's meant for Pierre?" + +And the girl answered, with bowed head: "She is." + +She cried instantly afterward, cutting short the look of wild triumph +on the face of the boy: "But there's no such woman; there's no one who +could do these things! I know it!" + +The boy sprang to his feet, flushing as red as the girl was white. + +"You fool, if you're blind and got to have your eyes open to see, look +at the woman!" + +And she tore the wide-brimmed sombrero from her head. Down past the +shoulders flooded a mass of blue-black hair. The firelight flickered +and danced across the silken shimmer of it. It swept wildly past the +waist, a glorious, night-dark tide in which the heart of a strong man +could be tangled and lost. With quivering lips Jacqueline cried: "Look +at me! Am I worthy of him?" + +Short step by step Mary went back, staring with fascinated eyes as one +who sees some devilish, midnight revelry, and shrinks away from it lest +the sight should blast her. She covered her eyes with her hands but +instantly strong grips fell on her wrists and her hands were jerked +down from her face. She looked up into the eyes of a beautiful tigress. + +"Answer me--your yellow hair against mine--your child fingers against +my grip--are you equal with me?" + +But the strength of Jacqueline faded and grew small; her arms fell to +her side; she stepped back, with a rising pallor taking the place of +the red. For Mary, brushing her hands, one gloved and one bare, before +her eyes, returned the stare of the mountain girl with a calm and equal +scorn. Her heart was breaking, but a mighty loathing filled up her +veins in place of strength. + +"Tell me," she said, "was--was this man living with you when he came to +me and--and made speeches--about love?" + +"Bah! He was living with me. I tell you, he came back and laughed +with me about it, and told me about your baby-blue eyes when they +filled with tears; laughed and laughed and laughed, I tell you, as I +could laugh now." + +The other twisted her hands together, moaning: "And I have followed +him, even to the place where he keeps his--woman? Ah, how I hate +myself; how I despise myself. I'm unclean--unclean in my own eyes!" + +"Wait!" called Jacqueline. "You are leaving too soon. The night is +cold." + +"I am going. There is no need to gibe at me." + +"But wait--he will want to see you! I will tell him that you have been +here--that you came clear up the valley of the Old Crow to see him and +beg him on your knees to love you--he'll be angry to have missed the +scene!" + +But the door closed on Mary as she fled with her hands pressed against +her ears. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII + +A TALE OF A CARELESS MAN + +Jacqueline ran to the door and threw it open. + +"Ride down the valley!" she cried. "That's right. He's coming up, and +he'll meet you on the way. He'll be glad--to see you!" + +She saw the rider swing sharply about, and the clatter of the galloping +hoofs died out up the valley; then she closed the door, dropped the +latch, and, running to the middle of the room, threw up her arms and +cried out, a wild, shrill yell of triumph like the call of the old +Indian brave when he rises with the scalp of his murdered enemy +dripping in his hand. + +The extended arms she caught back to her breast, and stood there with +head tilted back, crushing her delight closer to her heart. + +And she whispered: "Pierre! Mine, mine! Pierre!" + +Next she went to the steel mirror on the wall and looked long at the +flushed, triumphant image. At length she started, like one awakening +from a happy dream, and hurriedly coiled the thick, soft tresses about +her head. Never before had she lingered so over a toilet, patting each +lock into place, twisting her head from side to side like a peacock +admiring its image. + +Now she looked about hungrily for a touch of color and uttered a little +moan of vexation when she saw nothing, till her eyes, piercing through +the gloom of a dim corner, saw a spray of autumn leaves, long left +there and still stained with beauty. She fastened them at the breast +of her shirt, and so arrayed began to cook. + +Never was there a merrier cook, not even some jolly French chef with a +heart made warm with good red wine, for she sang as she worked, and +whenever she had to cross the room it was with a dancing step. Spring +was in her blood, warm spring that loosens the muscles about the heart +and makes the eyes of girls dim and sets men smiling for no cause +except that they are living, and rejoicing with the whole awakening +world. + +So it was with Jacqueline. Ever and anon as she leaned over the pans +and stirred the fire she raised her head and remained a moment +motionless, waiting for a sound, yearning to hear, and each time she +had to look down again with a sigh. + +As it was, he took her by surprise, for he entered with the soft foot +of the hunted and remained an instant searching the room with a careful +glance. Not that he suspected, not that he had not relaxed his guard +and his vigilance the moment he caught sight of the flicker of light +through the mass of great boulders, but the lifelong habit of +watchfulness remained with him. + +Even when he spoke face to face with a man, he never seemed to be +giving more than half his attention, for might not some one else +approach if he lost himself in order to listen to any one voice? He +had covered half the length of the room with that soundless step before +she heard, and rose with a glad cry: "Pierre!" + +Meeting that calm blue eye, she checked herself mightily. + +"A hard ride?" she asked. + +"Nothing much." + +He took the rock nearest the fire and then raised a glance of inquiry. + +"I got cold," she said, "and rolled it over." + +He considered her and then the rock, not with suspicion, but as if he +held the matter in abeyance for further consideration; a hunted man and +a hunter must keep an eye for little things, must carry an armed hand +and an armed heart even among friends. As for Jacqueline, her color +had risen, and she leaned hurriedly over a pan in which meat was frying. + +"Any results?" she asked. + +"Some." + +She waited, knowing that the story would come at length. + +He added after a moment: "Strange how careless some people get to be." + +"Yes?" she queried. + +"Yes." + +Another pause, during which he casually drummed his fingers on his +knee. She saw that he must receive more encouragement before he would +tell, and she gave it, smiling to herself. Women are old in certain +ways of understanding in which men remain children forever. + +"I suppose we're still broke, Pierre?" + +"Broke? Well, not entirely. I got some results." + +"Good." + +"As a matter of fact, it was a pretty fair haul. Watch that meat, +Jack; I think it's burning." + +It was hardly beginning to cook, but she turned it obediently and hid +another slow smile. Rising, she passed behind his chair, and pretended +to busy herself with something near the wall. This was the environment +and attitude which would make him talk most freely, she knew. + +"Speaking of careless men," said Pierre, "I could tell you a yarn, +Jack." + +She stood close behind him and made about his unconscious head a +gesture of caress, the overflow of an infinite tenderness. + +"I'd sure like to hear it, Pierre." + +"Well, it was like this: I knew a fellow who started on the range with +a small stock of cattle. He wasn't a very good worker, and he didn't +understand cattle any too well, so he didn't prosper for quite a while. +Then his affairs took a sudden turn for the better; his herd began to +increase. Nobody understood the reason, though a good many suspected, +but one man fell onto the reason: our friend was simply running in a +few doggies on the side, and he'd arranged a very ingenious way of +changing the brands." + +"Pierre--" + +"Well?" + +"What does 'ingenious' mean?" + +"Why, I should say it means 'skilful, clever,' and it carries with it +the connotation of 'novel.'" + +"It carries the con-conno--what's that word, Pierre?" + +"I'm going to get some books for you, Jack, and we'll do a bit of +reading on the side, shall we?" + +"I'd love that!" + +He turned and looked up to her sharply. + +He said: "Sometimes, Jack, you talk just like a girl." + +"Do I? That's queer, isn't it? But go on with the story." + +"He changed the brands very skilfully, and no one got the dope on him +except this one man I mentioned; and that man kept his face shut. He +waited. + +"So it went on for a good many years. The herd of our friend grew very +rapidly. He sold just enough cattle to keep himself and his wife +alive; he was bent on making one big haul, you see. So when his +doggies got to the right age and condition for the market, he'd trade +them off, one fat doggie for two or three skinny yearlings. But +finally he had a really big herd together, and shipped it off to the +market on a year when the price was sky-high." + +"Like this year?" + +"Don't interrupt me, Jack!" + +From the shadow behind him she smiled again. + +"They went at a corking price, and our friend cleared up a good many +thousand--I won't say just how much. He sank part of it in a ruby +brooch for his wife, and shoved the rest into a satchel. + +"You see how careful he'd been all those years while he was piling up +his fortune? Well, he began to get careless the moment he cashed in, +which was rather odd. He depended on his fighting power to keep that +money safe, but he forgot that while he'd been making a business of +rustling doggies and watching cattle markets, other men had been making +a business of shooting fast and straight. + +"Among others there was the silent man who'd watched and waited for so +long. But this silent man hove alongside while our rich friend was +bound home in a buckboard. + +"'Good evening!' he called. + +"The rich chap turned and heard; it all seemed all right, but he'd done +a good deal of shady business in his day, and that made him suspicious +of the silent man now. So he reached for his gun and got it out just +in time to be shot cleanly through the hand. + +"The silent man tied up that hand and sympathized with the rich chap; +then he took that satchel and divided the paper money into two bundles. +One was twice the size of the other, and the silent man took the +smaller one. There was only twelve thousand dollars in it. Also, he +took the ruby brooch for a friend--and as a sort of keepsake, you know. +And he delivered a short lecture to the rich man on the subject of +carelessness and rode away. The rich man picked up his gun with his +left hand and opened fire, but he'd never learned to shoot very well +with that hand, so the silent man came through safe." + +"That's a bully story," said Jack. "Who was the silent man?" + +"I think you've seen him a few times, at that." + +She concealed another smile, and said in the most businesslike manner: +"Chow-time, Pierre," and set out the pans on the table. + +"By the way," he said easily, "I've got a little present for you, Jack." + +And he took out a gold pin flaming with three great rubies. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII + +A COUNT TO TEN + +She merely stared, like a child which may either burst into tears or +laughter, no one can prophesy which. + +He explained, rather worried: "You see, you are a girl, Jack, and I +remembered that you were pleased about those clothes that you wore to +the dance in Crittenden Schoolhouse, and so when I saw that pin +I--well--" + +"Oh, Pierre!" said a stifled voice, "Oh, Pierre!" + +"By Jove, Jack, aren't angry, are you? See, when you put it at the +throat it doesn't look half bad!" + +And to try it, he pinned it on her shirt. She caught both his hands, +kissed them again and again, and then buried her face against them as +she sobbed. If the heavens had opened and a cloudburst crashed on the +roof of the house, he would have been less astounded. + +"What is it?" he cried. "Damn it all--Jack--you see--I meant--" + +But she tore herself away and flung herself face down on the bunk, +sobbing more bitterly than ever. He followed, awestricken--terrified. + +He touched her shoulder, but she shrank away and seemed more distressed +than ever. It was not the crying of a weak woman: these were +heart-rending sounds, like the sobbing of a man who has never before +known tears. + +"Jack--perhaps I've done something wrong--" + +He stammered again: "I didn't dream I was hurting you--" + +Then light broke upon him. + +He said: "It's because you don't want to be treated like a silly girl; +eh, Jack?" + +But to complete his astonishment she moaned: "N-n-no! It's b-b-because +you--you n-n-never _do_ t-treat me like a g-g-girl, P-P-Pierre!" + +He groaned heartily: "Well, I'll be damned!" + +And because he was thoughtful he strode away, staring at the floor. It +was then that he saw it, small and crumpled on the floor. He picked it +up--a glove of the softest leather. He carried it back to Jacqueline. + +"What's this?" + +"Wh-wh-what?" + +"This glove I found on the floor?" + +The sobs decreased at once--broke out more violently--and then she +sprang up from the bunk, face suffused, and eyes timidly seeking his +with upward glances. + +"Pierre, I've acted a regular chump. Are you out with me?" + +"Not a bit, old-timer. But about this glove?" + +"Oh, that's one of mine." + +She took it and slipped it into the bosom of her shirt--the calm blue +eye of Pierre noted. + +He said: "We'll eat and forget the rest of this, if you want, Jack." + +"And you ain't mad at me, Pierre?" + +"Not a bit." + +There was just a trace of coldness in his tone, and she knew perfectly +why it was there, but she chose to ascribe it to another cause. + +She explained: "You see, a woman is just about nine-tenths fool, +Pierre, and has to bust out like that once in a while." + +"Oh!" said Pierre, and his eyes wandered past her as though he found +food for thought on the wall. + +She ventured cautiously, after seeing that he was eating with appetite: +"How does the pin look?" + +"Why, fine." + +And the silence began again. + +She dared not question him in that mood, so she ventured again: "The +old boy shooting left-handed--didn't he even fan the wind near you?" + +"That was another bit of carelessness," said Pierre, but his smile held +little of life. "He might have known that if he _had_ shot close--by +accident--I might have turned around and shot him dead--on purpose. +But when a man stops thinking for a minute, he's apt to go on for a +long time making a fool of himself." + +"Right," she said, brightening as she felt the crisis pass away, "and +that reminds me of a story about--" + +"By the way, Jack, I'll wager there's a more interesting story than +that you could tell me." + +"What?" + +"About how that glove happened to be on the floor." + +"Why, partner, it's just a glove of my own." + +"Didn't know you wore gloves with a leather as soft as that." + +"No? Well, that story I was speaking about runs something like this--" + +And she told him a gay narrative, throwing all her spirit into it, for +she was an admirable mimic. He met her spirit more than half-way, +laughing gaily; and so they reached the end of the story and the end of +the meal at the same time. She cleared away the pans with a few +motions and tossed them clattering into a corner. Neat housekeeping +was not numbered among the many virtues of Jacqueline. + +"Now," said Pierre, leaning back against the wall, "we'll hear about +that glove." + +"Damn the glove!" broke from her. + +"Steady, pal!" + +"Pierre, are you going to nag me about a little thing like that?" + +"Why, Jack, you're red and white in patches. I'm interested." + +He sat up. + +"I'm more than interested. The story, Jack." + +"Well, I suppose I have to tell you. I did a fool thing to-day. Took +a little gallop down the trail, and on my way back I met a girl sitting +in her saddle with her face in her hands, crying her heart out. Poor +kid! She'd come up in a hunting party and got separated from the rest. + +"So I got sympathetic--" + +"About the first time on record that you've been sympathetic with +another girl, eh?" + +"Shut up, Pierre! And I brought her in here--right into your cabin, +without thinking what I was doing, and gave her a cup of coffee. Of +course it was a pretty greenhorn trick, but I guess no harm will come +of it. The girl thinks it's a prospector's cabin--which it was once. +She went on her way, happy, because I told her of the right trail to +get back with her gang. That's all there is to it. Are you mad at me +for letting any one come into this place?" + +"Mad?" he smiled. "No, I think that's one of the best lies you ever +told me, Jack." + +Their eyes met, hers very wide, and his keen and steady. The she +gripped at the butt of her gun, an habitual trick when she was very +angry, and cried: + +"Do I have to sit here and let you call me--that? Pierre, pull a few +more tricks like that and I'll call for a new deal. Get me?" + +She rose, whirled, and threw herself sullenly on her bunk. + +"Come back," said Pierre. "You're more scared than angry. Why are you +afraid, Jack?" + +"It's a lie--I'm not afraid!" + +"Let me see that glove again." + +"You've seen it once--that's enough." + +He whistled carelessly, rolling a cigarette. After he lighted it he +said: "Ready to talk yet, partner?" + +She maintained an obstinate silence, but that sharp eye saw that she +was trembling. He set his teeth and then drew several long puffs on +his cigarette. + +"I'm going to count to ten, pal, and when I finish you're going to tell +me everything straight. In the mean time don't stay there thinking up +a new lie. I know you too well, and if you try the same thing on me +again--" + +"Well?" she snarled, all the tiger coming back in her voice. + +"You'll talk, all right. Here goes the count: One--two--three--four--" + +As he counted, leaving a long drag of two or three seconds between +numbers, there was not a change in the figure of the girl. She still +lay with her back turned on him, and the only expressive part that +showed was her hand. First it lay limp against her hip, but as the +monotonous count proceeded it gathered to a fist. + +"Five--six--seven--" + +It seemed that he had been counting for hours, his will against her +will, the man in him against the woman in her, and during the pauses +between the sound of his voice the very air grew charged with waiting. +To the girl the wait for every count was like the wait of the doomed +traitor when he stands facing the firing-squad, watching the glimmer of +light go down the aimed rifles. + +For she knew the face of the man who sat there counting; she knew how +the firelight flared in the dark-red of his hair and made it seem like +another fire beneath which the blue of the eyes was strangely cold and +keen. Her hand had gathered to a hard-balled fist. + +"Eight--nine--" + +She sprang up, screaming: "No, no, Pierre!" + +And threw out her arms to him. + +"Ten." + +She whispered: "It was the girl with yellow hair--Mary Brown." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV + +TIGER-HEART + +It was as if she had said: "Good morning!" in the calmest of voices. +There was no answer in him, neither word nor expression, and out of ten +sharp-eyed men, nine would have passed him by without noting the +difference; but the girl knew him as the monk knows his prayers or the +Arab his horse, and a solemn, deep despair came over her. She felt +like the drowning, when the water closes over their heads for the last +time. + +He puffed twice again at the cigarette and then flicked the butt into +the fire. When he spoke it was only to say: "Did she stay long?" + +But his eyes avoided her. She moved a little so as to read his face, +but when he turned again and answered her stare she winced. + +"Not very long, Pierre." + +"Ah," he said, "I see! It was because she didn't dream that this was +the place I lived in." + +It was the sort of heartless, torturing questioning which was once the +crudest weapon of the inquisition. With all her heart she fought to +raise her voice above the whisper whose very sound accused her, but +could not. She was condemned to that voice as the man bound in +nightmare is condemned to walk slowly, slowly, though the terrible +danger is racing toward him, and the safety which he must reach lies +only a dozen steps, a dozen mortal steps away. + +She said in that voice: "No; of course she didn't dream it." + +"And you, Jack, had her interests at heart--her best interests, poor +girl, and didn't tell her?" + +Her hands went out to him in mute appeal. + +"Please, Pierre--don't!" + +"Is something troubling you, Jack?" + +"You are breaking my heart." + +"Why, by no means! Let's sit here calmly and chat about the girl with +the yellow hair. To begin with--she's rather pleasant to look at, +don't you think?" + +"I suppose she is." + +"H-m! rather poor taste not to be sure of it. Well, let it go. You've +always had rather queer taste in women, Jack; but, of course, being a +long-rider, you haven't seen much of them. At least her name is +delightful--Mary Brown! You've no idea how often I've repeated it +aloud to myself and relished the sound--Mary Brown!" + +"I hate her!" + +"You two didn't have a very agreeable time of it? By the way, she must +have left in rather a hurry to forget her glove, eh?" + +"Yes, she ran--like a coward." + +"Ah?" + +"Like a trembling coward. How can you care for a white-faced little +fool like that? Is she your match? Is she your mate?" + +He considered a moment, as though to make sure that he did not +exaggerate. + +"I love her, Jack, as men love water when they've ridden all day over +hot sand without a drop on their lips--you know when the tongue gets +thick and the mouth fills with cotton--and then you see clear, bright +water, and taste it." + +"She is like that to me. She feeds every sense; and when I look in her +eyes, Jack, I feel like the starved man on the desert, as I was saying, +drinking that priceless water. You knew something of the way I feel, +Jack. Isn't it a little odd that you didn't keep her here?" + +She had stood literally shuddering during this speech, and now she +burst out, far beyond all control: "Because she loathes you; because +she hates herself for ever having loved you; because she despises +herself for having ridden up here after you. Does that fill your cup +of water, Pierre, eh?" + +His forehead was shining with sweat, but he set his teeth, and, after a +moment, he was able to say in the same hard, calm voice: "I suppose +there was no real reason for her change. She can be persuaded back to +me in a moment. In that case just tell me where she has gone and I'll +ride after her." + +He made as if to rise, but she cried in a panic, and yet with a wild +exultation: "No, she's done with you forever, and the more you make +love to her now the more she'll hate you. Because she knows that when +you kissed her before--when you kissed her--you were living with a +woman." + +"I--living with a woman?" + +Her voice had risen out of the whisper for the outbreak. Now it sank +back into it. + +"Yes--with me!" + +"With you? I see. Naturally it must have gone hard with her--Mary! +And she wouldn't see reason even when you explained that you and I are +like brothers?" + +He leaned a little toward her and just a shade of emotion came in his +voice. + +"When you carefully explained, Jack, with all the eloquence you could +command, that you and I have ridden and fought and camped together like +brothers for six years? And how I gave you your first gun? And how +I've stayed between you and danger a thousand times? And how I've +never treated you otherwise than as a man? And how I've given you the +love of a blood-brother to take the place of the brother who died? And +how I've kept you in a clean and pure respect such as a man can only +give once in his life--and then only to his dearest friend? She +wouldn't listen--even when you talked to her like this?" + +"For God's sake--Pierre!" + +"Ah, but you talked well enough to pave the way for me. You talked so +eloquently that with a little more persuasion from me she will know and +understand. Come, I must be gone after her. Which way did she +ride--up or down the valley?" + +"You could talk to her forever and she'd never listen. Pierre, I told +her that I was--your woman--that you'd told me of your scenes with +her--and that we'd laughed at them together." + +She covered her eyes and crouched, waiting for the wrath that would +fall on her, but he only smiled bitterly on the bowed head, saying: +"Why have I waited so long to hear you say what I knew already? I +suppose because I wouldn't believe until I heard the whole abominable +truth from your own lips. Jack, why did you do it?" + +"Won't you see? Because I've loved you always, Pierre!" + +"Love--you--your tiger-heart? No, but you were like a cruel, selfish +child. You were jealous because you didn't want the toy taken away. I +knew it. I knew that even if I rode after her it would be hopeless. +Oh, God, how terribly you've hurt me, partner!" + +It wrung a little moan from her. He said after a moment: "It's only +the ghost of a chance, but I'll have to take it. Tell me which way she +rode? No? Then I'll try to find her." + +She leaped between him and the door, flinging her shoulders against it +with a crash and standing with outspread arms to bar the way. + +"You must not go!" + +He turned his head somewhat. + +"Don't stand in front of me, Jack. You know I'll do what I say, and +just now it's a bit hard for me to face you." + +"Pierre, I feel as if there were a hand squeezing my heart small, and +small, and small. Pierre, I'd die for you!" + +"I know you would. I know you would, partner. It was only a mistake, +and you acted the way any cold-hearted boy would act if--if some one +were to try to steal his horse, for instance. But just now it's hard +for me to look at you and be calm." + +"Don't try to be! Swear at me--curse--rave--beat me; I'd be glad of +the blows, Pierre. I'd hold out my arms to 'em. But don't go out that +door!" + +"Why?" + +"Because--if you found her--she's not alone." + +"Say that slowly. I don't understand. She's not alone?" + +"I'll try to tell you from the first. She started out for you with +Dick Wilbur for a guide." + +"Good old Dick, God bless him! I'll fill all his pockets with gold for +that; and he loves her, you know." + +"You'll never see Dick Wilbur again. On the first night they camped +she missed him when he went for water. She went down after a while and +saw the mark of his body on the sand. He never appeared again." + +"Who was it?" + +"Listen. The next morning she woke up and found that some one had +taken care of the fire while she slept, and her pack was lashed on one +of the saddles. She rode on that day and came at night to a camp-fire +with a bed of boughs near it and no one in sight. She took that camp +for herself and no one showed up. + +"Don't you see? Some one was following her up the valley and taking +care of the poor baby on the way. Some one who was afraid to let +himself be seen. Perhaps it was the man who killed Dick Wilbur without +a sound there beside the river; perhaps as Dick died he told the man +who killed him about the lonely girl and this other man was white +enough to help Mary. + +"But all Mary ever saw of him was that second night when she thought +that she saw a streak of white, traveling like a galloping horse, that +disappeared over a hill and into the trees--" + +"A streak of white--" + +"Yes, yes! The white horse--McGurk!" + +"McGurk!" repeated Pierre stupidly; then: "And you knew she would be +going out to him when she left this house?" + +"I knew--Pierre--don't look at me like that--I knew that it would be +murder to let you cross with McGurk. You're the last of seven--he's a +devil--no man--" + +"And you let her go out into the night--to him." + +She clung to a last thread of hope: "If you met him and killed him with +the luck of the cross it would bring equal bad luck on some one you +love--on the girl, Pierre!" + +He was merely repeating stupidly: "You let her go out--to him--in the +night! She's in his arms now--you devil--you tiger--" + +She threw herself down and clung about his knees with hysterical +strength. + +"Pierre, you shall not go. Pierre, you walk on my heart if you go!" + +He tore the little cross from his neck and flung it into her upturned +face. + +"Don't make me put my hands on you, Jack. Let me go!" + +There was no need to tear her grasp away. She crumpled and slipped +sidewise to the floor. He leaned over and shook her violently by the +shoulder. + +"Which way did she ride? Which way did they ride?" + +She whispered: "Down the valley, Pierre; down the valley; I swear they +rode that way." + +And as she lay in a half swoon she heard the faint clatter of galloping +hoofs over the rooks and a wild voice yelling, fainter and fainter with +distance: + +"McGurk!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV + +JACK HEARS A SMALL VOICE + +It came back to her like a threat; it beat at her ears and roused her, +that continually diminishing cry: "McGurk!" It went down the valley, +and Mary Brown, and McGurk with her, perhaps, had gone up the gorge, +but it would be a matter of a short time before Pierre le Rouge +discovered that there was no camp-fire to be sighted in the lower +valley and whirled to storm back up the canon with that battle-cry: +"McGurk!" still on his lips. + +And if the two met she knew the result. Seven strong men had ridden +together, fought together, and one by one they had fallen, disappeared +like the white smoke of the camp-fire, jerked off into thin air by the +wind, until only one remained. + +How clearly she could see them all! Bud Mansie, meager, lean, with a +shifting eye; Garry Patterson, of the red, good-natured face; Phil +Branch, stolid and short and muscled like a giant; Handsome Dick Wilbur +on his racing bay; Black Gandil, with his villainies from the South +Seas like an invisible mantle of awe about him; and her father, the +stalwart, gray Boone. + +All these had gone, and there remained only Pierre le Rouge to follow +in the steps of the six who had gone before. + +She crawled to the door, feeble in mind and shuddering of body like a +runner who has spent his last energy in a long race, and drew it open. +The wind blew up the valley from the Old Crow, but no sound came back +to her, no calling from Pierre; and over her rose the black pyramid of +the western peak of the Twin Bears like a monstrous nose pointing +stiffly toward the stars. + +She closed the door, dragged herself back to her feet, and stood with +her shoulders leaning against the wall. Her weakness was not +weariness--it was as if something had been taken from her. She +wondered at herself somewhat vaguely. Surely she had never been like +this before, with the singular coldness about her heart and the feeling +of loss, of infinite loss. + +What had she lost? She began to search her mind for an answer. Then +she smiled uncertainly, a wan, small smile. It was very clear; what +she had lost was all interest in life and all hope for the brave +to-morrow. Nothing remained of all those lovely dreams which she had +built up by day and night about the figure of Pierre le Rouge. He was +gone, and the bright-colored bubble she had blown vanished at once. + +She felt a slight pain at her forehead and then remembered the cross +which Pierre had thrown into her face. Casting that away he had thrown +his faintest chance of victory with it; it would be a slaughter, not a +battle, and red-handed McGurk would leave one more foe behind him. + +But looking down she found the cross and picked up the shining bit of +metal; it seemed as if she held the greater part of Pierre le Rouge in +her hands. She raised the cross to her lips. + +When she fastened the cross about her throat it was with no exultation, +but like one who places over his heart a last memorial of the dead; a +consecration, like the red sign or the white which the crusaders wore +on the covers of their shields. + +Then she took from her breast the spray of autumn leaves. He had not +noticed them, yet perhaps they had helped to make him gay when he came +into the cabin that night, so she placed the spray on the table. Next +she unpinned the great rubies from her throat and let her eye linger +over them for a moment. They were chosen stones, each as deeply +lighted as an eye, if there ever were eyes of this blood-red, and they +looked up at her with a lure and a challenge at once. + +The first thought of what she must do came to Jacqueline then, but not +in an overwhelming tide--it was rather a small voice that whispered in +her heart. + +Last, she took from her bosom the glove of the yellow-haired girl. +Compared with her stanch riding gloves, how small was this! Yet, when +she tried it, it slipped easily on her hand. This she laid in that +little pile, for these were the things which Pierre would wish to find +if by some miracle he came back from the battle. The spray, perhaps, +he would not understand; and yet he might. She pressed both hands to +her breast and drew a long breath, for her heart was breaking. Through +her misted eyes she could barely see the shimmer of the cross. + +That sight made her look up, searching for a superhuman aid in her woe, +and for the first time in her life a conception of God dawned on her +wild, gay mind. She made a picture of him like a vast cloud looming +over the Twin Bear peaks and breathing an infinite calm over the +mountains. The cloud took a faintly human shape--a shape somewhat like +that of her father when he lived, for he could be both stern and +gentle, as she well knew, and such gray Boone had been. + +Perhaps it was because of this that another picture came out of her +infancy of a soft voice, of a tender-touching hand, of brooding, +infinitely loving eyes. She smiled the wan smile again because for the +first time it came to her that she, too, even she, the wild, the +"tiger-heart," as Pierre himself had called her, might one day have +been the mother of a child, his child. + +But the ache within her grew so keen that she dropped, writhing, to her +knees, and twisted her hands together in agony. It was prayer. There +were no words to it, but it was prayer, a wild appeal for aid. + +That aid came in the form of a calm that swept on her like the flood of +a clear moonlight over a storm-beaten landscape. The whisper which had +come to her before was now a solemn-speaking voice, and she knew what +she must do. She could not keep the two men apart, but she might reach +McGurk before and strike him down by stealth, by craft, any way to kill +that man as terrible as a devil, as invulnerable as a ghost. + +This she might do in the heart of the night, and afterward she might +have the courage left to tell the girl the truth and then creep off +somewhere and let this steady pain burn its way out of her heart. + +Once she had reached a decision, it was characteristic that she moved +swiftly. Also, there was cause for haste, for by this time Pierre must +have discovered that there was no one in the lower reaches of the gorge +and would be galloping back with all the speed of the cream-colored +mare which even McGurk's white horse could not match. + +She ran from the cabin and into the little lean-to behind it where the +horses were tethered. There she swung her saddle with expert hands, +whipped up the cinch, and pulled it with the strength of a man, +mounted, and was off up the gorge. + +For the first few minutes she let the long-limbed black race on at full +speed, a breathless course, because the beat of the wind in her face +raised her courage, gave her a certain impulse which was almost +happiness, just as the martyrs rejoiced and held out their hands to the +fire that was to consume them; but after the first burst of headlong +galloping, she drew down the speed to a hand-canter, and this in turn +to a fast trot, for she dared not risk the far-echoed sound of the +clattering hoofs over the rock. + +And as she rode she saw at last the winking eye of red which she longed +for and dreaded. She pulled her black to an instant halt and swung +from the saddle, tossing the reins over the head of the horse to keep +him standing there. + +Yet, after she had made half a dozen hurried paces something forced her +to turn and look again at the handsome head of the horse. He stood +quite motionless, with his ears pricking after her, and now as she +stopped he whinnied softly, hardly louder than the whisper of a man. +So she ran back again and threw the reins over the horn of the saddle; +he should be free to wander where he chose through the free mountains, +but as for her, she knew very certainly now that she would never mount +that saddle again, or control that triumphant steed with the touch of +her hands on the reins. She put her arms around his neck and drew his +head down close. + +There was a dignity in that parting, for it was the burning of her +bridges behind her. When "King-Maker" Richard of Warwick, betrayed and +beaten on the field, came to his last stand by the forest, he +dismounted and stabbed his favorite charger. Very different was this +wild mountain girl from the armored earl who put kings up and pulled +them down again at pleasure, but her heart swelled as great as the +heart of famous Warwick; he gave up a kingdom, and she gave up her love. + +When she drew back the horse followed her a pace, but she raised a +silent hand in the night and halted him; a moment later she was lost +among the boulders. + +It was rather slow work to stalk that camp-fire, for the big boulders +cut off the sight of the red eye time and again, and she had to make +little, cautious detours before she found it again, but she kept +steadily at her work. Once she stopped, her blood running cold, for +she thought that she heard a faint voice blown up the canon on the +wind: "McGurk!" + +For half a minute she stood frozen, listening, but the sound was not +repeated, and she went on again with greater haste. So she came at +last in view of a hollow in the side of the gorge. Here there were a +few trees, growing in the cove, and here, she knew, there was a small +spring of clear water. Many a time she had made a cup of her hands and +drunk here. + +Now she made out the fire clearly, the trees throwing out great spokes +of shadow on all sides, spokes of shadows that wavered and shook with +the flare of the small fire beyond them. She dropped to her hands and +knees and, parting the dense underbrush, began the last stealthy +approach. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI + +A VOICE IN THE NIGHT + +Up the same course which Jacqueline followed, Mary Brown had fled +earlier that night with the triumphant laughter of Jack still ringing +in her ears and following her like a remorseless, pointed hand of shame. + +There is no power like shame to disarm the spirit. A dog will fight if +a man laughs at him; a coward will challenge the devil himself if he is +whipped on by scorn; and this proud girl shrank and moaned on the +saddle. She had not progressed far enough to hate Pierre. That would +come later, but now all her heart had room for was a consuming loathing +of herself. + +Some of that torture went into the spurs with which she punished the +side of the bay, and the tall horse responded with a high-tossed head +and a burst of whirlwind speed. The result was finally a stumble over +a loose rock that almost flung Mary over the pommel of the saddle and +forced her to draw rein. + +Having slowed the pace she became aware that she was very tired from +the trip of the day, and utterly exhausted by the wild scene with +Jacqueline, so that she began to look about for a place where she could +stop for even an hour or so and rest her aching body. + +Thought of McGurk sent her hand trembling to her holster. Still she +knew she must have little to fear from him. He had been kind to her. +Why had this scourge of the mountain-desert spared her? Was it to +track down Pierre? + +It was at this time that she heard the purl and whisper of running +water, a sound dear to the hearts of all travelers. She veered to the +left and found the little grove of trees with a thick shrubbery growing +between, fed by the water of that diminutive brook. She dismounted and +tethered the horses. + +By this time she had seen enough of camping out to know how to make +herself fairly comfortable, and she set about it methodically, eagerly. +It was something to occupy her mind and keep out a little of that +burning sense of shame. One picture it could not obliterate, and that +was the scene of Jacqueline and Pierre le Rouge laughing together over +the love affair with the silly girl of the yellow hair. + +That was the meaning, then, of those silences that had come between +them? He had been thinking, remembering, careful lest he should forget +a single scruple of the whole ludicrous affair. She shuddered, +remembering how she had fairly flung herself into his arms. + +On that she brooded, after starting the little fire. It was not that +she was cold, but the fire, at least, in the heart of the black night, +was a friend incapable of human treachery. She had not been there long +when the tall bay, Wilbur's horse, stiffened, raised his head, arched +his tail, and then whinnied. + +She started to her feet, stirred by a thousand fears, and heard, far +away, an answering neigh. At once all thought of shame and of Pierre +le Rouge vanished from her mind, for she remembered the man who had +followed her up the valley of the Old Crow. Perhaps he was coming now +out of the night; perhaps she would even see him. + +And the excitement grew in her pulse by pulse, as the excitement grows +in a man waiting for a friend at a station; he sees first the faint +smoke like a cloud on the skyline, and then a black speck beneath the +smoke, and next the engine draws up on him with a humming of the rails +which grows at length to a thunder. + +All the while his heart beats faster and faster and rocks with the sway +of the approaching engine; so the heart of Mary Brown beat, though she +could not see, but only felt the coming of the stranger. + +The only sign she saw was in the horses, which showed an increasing +uneasiness. Her own mare now shared the restlessness of the tall bay, +and the two were footing it nervously here and there, tugging at the +tethers, and tossing up their heads, with many a start, as if they +feared and sought to flee from some approaching catastrophe--some vast +and preternatural change--some forest fire which came galloping faster +than even their fleet limbs could carry them. + +Yet all beyond the pale of her campfire's light was silence, utter and +complete silence. It seemed as if a veritable muscular energy went +into the intensity of her listening, but not a sound reached her except +a faint whispering of the wind in the dark trees above her. + +But at last she knew that the thing was upon her. The horses ceased +their prancing and stared in a fixed direction through the thicket of +shrubbery; the very wind grew hushed above her; she could feel the new +presence as one feels the silence when a door closes and shuts away the +sound of the street below. + +It came on her with a shock, thrilling, terrible, yet not altogether +unpleasant. She rose, her hands clenched at her sides and the great +blue eyes abnormally wide as they stared in the same direction as the +eyes of the two horses held. Yet for all her preparation she nearly +fainted and a blackness came across her mind when a voice sounded +directly behind her, a pleasantly modulated voice: "Look this way. I +am here, in front of the fire." + +She turned about and the two horses, quivering, whirled toward that +sound. + +She stepped back, back until the embers of the fire lay between her and +that side of the little clearing. In spite of herself the exclamation +escaped her.--"McGurk!" + +The voice spoke again: "Do not be afraid. You are safe, absolutely." + +"What are you?" + +"Your friend." + +"Is it you who followed me up the valley?" + +"Yes." + +"Come into the light. I must see you." A faint laughter reached her +from the dark. + +"I cannot let you do that. If that had been possible I should have +come to you before." + +"But I feel--I feel almost, as if you are a ghost and no man of flesh +and blood." + +"It is better for you to feel that way about it," said the voice +solemnly, "than to know me." + +"At least, tell me why you have followed me, why you have cared for me." + +"You will hate me if I tell you, and fear me." + +"No, whatever you are, trust me. Tell me at least what came to Dick +Wilbur?" + +"That's easy enough. I met him at the river, a little by surprise, and +caught him before he could even shout. Then I took his guns and let +him go." + +"But he didn't come back to me?" + +"No. He knew that I would be there. I might have finished him without +giving him a chance to speak, girl, but I'd seen him with you and I was +curious. So I found out where you were going and why, and let Wilbur +go. I came back and looked at you and found you asleep." + +She grew cold at the thought of him leaning over her. + +"I watched you a long time, and I suppose I'll remember you always as I +saw you then. You were very beautiful with the shadow of the lashes +against your cheek--almost as beautiful as you are now as you stand +over there, fearing and loathing me. I dared not let you see me, but I +decided to take care of you--for a while." + +"And now?" + +"I have come to say farewell to you." + +"Let me see you once before you go." + +"No! You see, I fear you even more than you fear me." + +"Then I'll follow you." + +"It would be useless--utterly useless. There are ways of becoming +invisible in the mountains. But before I go, tell me one thing: Have +you left the cabin to search for Pierre le Rouge in another place?" + +"No. I do not search for him." + +There was an instant of pause. Then the voice said sharply: "Did +Wilbur lie to me?" + +"No. I started up the valley to find him." + +"But you've given him up?" + +"I hate him--I hate him as much as I loathe myself for ever +condescending to follow him." + +She heard a quick breath drawn in the dark, and then a murmur; "I am +free, then, to hunt him down!" + +"Why?" + +"Listen: I had given him up for your sake; I gave him up when I stood +beside you that first night and watched you trembling with the cold in +your sleep. It was a weak thing for me to do, but since I saw you, +Mary, I am not as strong as I once was." + +"Now you go back on his trail? It is death for Pierre?" + +"You say you hate him?" + +"Ah, but as deeply as that?" she questioned herself. + +"It may not be death for Pierre. I have ridden the ranges many years +and met them all in time, but never one like him. Listen: six years +ago I met him first and then he wounded me--the first time any man has +touched me. And afterward I was afraid, Mary, for the first time in my +life, for the charm was broken. For six years I could not return, but +now I am at his heels. Six are gone; he will be the last to go." + +"What are you?" she cried. "Some bloodhound reincarnated?" + +He said: "That is the mildest name I have ever been called." + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII + +A MAN'S DEATH + +"Give up the trail of Pierre." + +And there, brought face to face with the mortal question, even her fear +burned low in her, and once more she remembered the youth who would not +leave her in the snow, but held her in his arms with the strange cross +above them. + +She said simply: "I still love him." + +A faint glimmer came to her through the dark and she could see deeper +into the shrubbery, for now the moon stood up on the top of the great +peak above them and flung a faint radiance into the hollow. That +glimmer she saw, but no face of a man. + +And then the silence held; every second of it was more than a hundred +spoken words. + +Then the calm voice said: "I cannot give him up." + +"For the sake of God!" + +"God and I have been strangers for a good many years." + +"For my sake." + +"But you see, I have been lying to myself. I told myself that I was +coming merely to see you once--for the last time. But after I saw you +I had to speak, and now that I have spoken it is hard to leave you, and +now that I am with you I cannot give you up to Pierre le Rouge." + +She cried: "What will you have of me?" + +He answered with a ring of melancholy: "Friendship? No, I can't take +those white hands--mine are so red. All I can do is to lurk about you +like a shadow--a shadow with a sting that strikes down all other men +who come near you." + +She said: "For all men have told me about you, I know you could not do +that." + +"Mary, I tell you there are things about me, and possibilities, about +which I don't dare to question myself." + +"You have guarded me like a brother. Be one to me still; I have never +needed one so deeply!" + +"A brother? Mary, if your eyes were less blue or your hair less golden +I might be; but you are too beautiful to be only that to me." + +"Listen to me--" + +But she stopped in the midst of her speech, because a white head loomed +beside the dim form. It was the head of a horse, with pricking ears, +which now nosed the shoulder of its master, and she saw the firelight +glimmering in the great eyes. + +"Your horse," she said in a trembling voice, "loves you and trusts you." + +"It is the only thing which has not feared me. When it was a colt it +came out of the herd and nosed my hand. It is the only thing which has +not fought me, as all men have done--as you are doing now, Mary." + +The wind that blew up the gorge came in gusts, not any steady current, +but fitful rushes of air, and on one of these brief blasts it seemed to +Mary that she caught the sound of a voice blown to whistling murmur. +It was a vague thing of which she could not be sure, as faint as a +thought. Yet the head of the white horse disappeared, and the glimmer +of the man's face went out. + +She called: "Whatever you are, wait! Let me speak!" + +But no answer came, and she knew that the form was gone forever. + +She cried again: "Who's there?" + +"It is I," said a voice at her elbow, and she turned to look into the +dark eyes of Jacqueline. + +"So he's gone?" asked Jack bitterly. + +She fingered the butt of her gun. + +"I thought--well, my chance at him is gone." + +"But what--" + +"Bah, if you knew you'd die of fear. Listen to what I have to say. +All the things I told you in the cabin were lies." + +"Lies?" said Mary evenly. "No, they proved themselves." + +"Be still till I've finished, because if you talk you may make me +forget--" + +The gesture which finished the sentence was so eloquent of hate that +Mary shrank away and put the embers of the fire between them. + +"I tell you, it was all a lie, and Pierre le Rouge has never loved +anything but you, you milk-faced, yellow-livered--" + +She stopped again, fighting against her passion. + +The pride of Mary held her stiff and straight, though her voice shook. + +"Has he sent you after me with mockery?" + +"No, he's given up the hope of you." + +"The hope?" + +"Don't you see? Are you going to make me crawl to explain? It always +seemed to me that God meant Pierre for me. It always seemed to me that +a girl like me was what he needed. But Pierre had never seen it. +Maybe, if my hair was yellow an' my eyes blue, he might have felt +different; but the way it is, he's always treated me like a kid +brother--" + +"And lived with you?" said the other sternly. + +"Like two men! D'you understand how a woman could be the bunky of a +man an' yet be no more to him than--than a man would be. You don't? +Neither do I, but that's what I've been to Pierre le Rouge. What's +that?" + +She lifted her head and stood poised as if for flight. Once more the +vague sound blew up to them upon the wind. Mary ran to her and grasped +both of her hands in her own. + +"If it's true--" + +But Jack snatched her hands away and looked on the other with a mighty +hatred and a mightier contempt. + +"True? Why, it damn near finishes Pierre with me to think he'd take up +with--a thing like you. But it's true. If somebody else had told me +I'd of laughed at 'em. But it's true. Tell me: what'll you do with +him?" + +"Take him back--if I can reach him--take him back to the East and to +God's country." + +"Yes--maybe he'd be happy there. But when the spring comes to the +city, Mary, wait till the wind blows in the night and the rain comes +tappin' on the roof. Then hold him if you can. D'ye hear? Hold him +if you can!" + +"If he cares it will not be hard. Tell me again, if--" + +"Shut up. What's that again?" + +The sound was closer now and unmistakably something other than the moan +of the wind. Jacqueline turned in great excitement to Mary: + +"Did McGurk hear that sound down the gorge?" + +"Yes. I think so. And then he--" + +"My God!" + +"What is it?" + +"Pierre, and he's calling for--d'you hear?" + +Clear and loud, though from a great distance, the wind carried up the +sound and the echo preserved it: "McGurk!" + +"McGurk!" repeated Mary. + +"Yes! And you brought him up here with you, and brought his death to +Pierre. What'll you do to save him now? Pierre!" + +She turned and fled out among the trees, and after her ran Mary, +calling, like the other: "Pierre!" + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII + +THE WAITING + +After that call first reached him, clear to his ears though vague as a +murmur at the ear of Mary, McGurk swung to the saddle of his white +horse, and galloped down the gorge like a veritable angel of death. + +The end was very near, he felt, yet the chances were at least ten to +one that he would miss Pierre in the throat of the gorge, for among the +great boulders, tall as houses, which littered it, a thousand men might +have passed and repassed and never seen each other. Only the calling +of Pierre could guide him surely. + +The calling had ceased for some moments, and he began to fear that he +had overrun his mark and missed Pierre in the heart of the pass, when, +as he rounded a mighty boulder, the shout ran ringing in his very ears: +"McGurk!" and a horseman swung into view. + +"Here!" he called in answer, and stood with his right hand lifted, +bringing his horse to a sharp halt, like some ancient cavalier stopping +in the middle of the battle to exchange greetings with a friendly foe. + +The other rider whirled alongside, his sombrero's brim flaring back +from his forehead, so that McGurk caught the glare of the eyes beneath +the shadow. + +"So for the third time, my friend--" said McGurk. + +"Which is the fatal one," answered Pierre. "How will you die, McGurk? +On foot or on horseback?" + +"On the ground, Pierre, for my horse might stir and make my work messy. +I love a neat job, you know." + +"Good." + +They swung from the saddles and stood facing each other. + +"Begin!" commanded McGurk. "I've no time to waste." + +"I've very little time to look at the living McGurk. Let me look my +fill before the end." + +"Then look, and be done. I've a lady coming to meet me." + +The other grew marvelously calm. + +"She is with you, McGurk?" + +"My dear Pierre, I've been with her ever since she started up the Old +Crow." + +"It will be easier to forget her. Are you ready?" + +"So soon? Come, man, there's much for us to say. Many old times to +chat over." + +"I only wonder," said Pierre, "how one death can pay back what you've +done. Think of it! I've actually run away from you and hidden myself +away among the hills. I've feared you, McGurk!" + +He said it with a deep astonishment, as a grown man will speak of the +way he feared darkness when he was a child. McGurk moistened his white +lips. The white horse pawed the rocks as though impatient to be gone. + +"Listen," said Pierre, "your horse grows restive. Suppose we stand +here--it's a convenient distance apart, you see, and wait with our arms +folded for the next time the white horse paws the rocks, because when I +kill you, McGurk, I want you to die knowing that another man was faster +on the draw and straighter with his bullets than you are. D'you see?" + +He could not have spoken with a more formal politeness if he had been +asking the other to pass first through the door of a dining-room. The +wonder of McGurk grew and the sweat on his forehead seemed to be +spreading a chill through his entire body. + +He said: "I see. You trust all to the cross, eh, Pierre? The little +cross under your neck?" + +"The cross is gone," said Pierre le Rouge. "Why should I use it +against a night rider, McGurk? Are you ready?" + +And McGurk, not trusting his voice for some strange reason, nodded. +The two folded their arms. + +But the white horse which had been pawing the stones so eagerly a +moment before was now unusually quiet. The very postures of the men +seemed to have frozen him to stone, a beautiful, marble statue, with +the moonlight glistening on the muscles of his perfect shoulders. + +At length he stirred. At once a quiver jerked through the tense bodies +of the waiting men, but the white horse had merely stiffened and raised +his head high. Now, with arched neck and flaunting tail he neighed +loudly, as if he asked a question. How could he know, dumb brute, that +what he asked only death could answer? + +And as they waited an itching came at the palm of McGurk's hand. It +was not much, just a tingle of the blood. To ease it, he closed his +fingers and found that his hand was moist with cold perspiration. + +He began to wonder if his fingers would be slippery on the butt of the +gun. Then he tried covertly to dry them against his shirt. But he +ceased this again, knowing that he must be of hair-trigger alertness to +watch for the stamp of the white horse. + +It occurred to him, also, that he was standing on a loose stone which +might wabble when he pulled his gun, and he cursed himself silently for +his hasty folly. Pierre, doubtless, had noticed that stone, and +therefore he had made the suggestion that they stand where they were. +Otherwise, how could there be that singular calm in the steady eyes +which looked across at him? + +Also, how explain the hunger of that stare? Was not he McGurk, and was +not this a man whom he had already once shot down? God, what a fool he +had been not to linger an instant longer in that saloon in the old days +and place the final shot in the prostrate body! In all his life he had +made only one such mistake, and now that folly was pursuing him. And +now-- + +The foot of the white horse lifted--struck the rock. The sound of its +fall was lost in the explosion of two guns, and a ring of metal on +metal. The revolver snapped from the hand of McGurk, whirled in a +flashing circle, and clanged on the rocks at his feet. The bullet of +Pierre had struck the barrel and knocked it cleanly from his hand. + +It was luck, only luck, that placed that shot, and his own bullet, +which had started first, had travelled wild for there stood Pierre le +Rouge, smiling faintly, alert, calm. For the first time in his life +McGurk had missed. He set his teeth and waited for death. + +But that steady voice of Pierre said: "To shoot you would be a +pleasure; it would even be a luxury, but there wouldn't be any lasting +satisfaction in it. So there lies your gun at your feet. Well, here +lies mine." + +He dropped his own weapon to a position corresponding with that of +McGurk's. + +"We were both very wild that time. We must do better now. We'll stoop +for our guns, McGurk. The signal? No, we won't wait for the horse to +stamp. The signal will be when you stoop for your gun. You shall have +every advantage, you see? Start for that gun, McGurk, when you're +ready for the end." + +The hand of McGurk stretched out and his arm stiffened but it seemed as +though all the muscles of his back had grown stiff. He could not bend. +It was strange. It was both ludicrous and incomprehensible. Perhaps +he had grown stiff with cold in that position. + +But he heard the voice of Pierre explaining gently: "You can't move, my +friend. I understand. It's fear that stiffened your back. It's fear +that sends the chill up and down your blood. It's fear that makes you +think back to your murders, one by one. McGurk, you're done for. +You're through. You're ready for the discard. I'm not going to kill +you. I've thought of a finer hell than death, and that is to live as +you shall live. I've beaten you, McGurk, beaten you fairly on the +draw, and I've broken your heart by doing it. The next time you face a +man you'll begin to think--you'll begin to remember how one other man +beat you at the draw. And that wonder, McGurk, will make your hand +freeze to your side, as you've made the hands of other men before me +freeze. D'you understand?" + +The lips of McGurk parted. The whisper of his dry panting reached +Pierre, and the devil in him smiled. + +"In six weeks, McGurk, you'll take water from a Chinaman. Now get out!" + +And pace by pace McGurk drew back, with his face still toward Pierre. + +The latter cried: "Wait. Are you going to leave your gun?" + +Only the steady retreat continued. + +"And go unarmed through the mountains? What will men say when they see +McGurk with an empty holster?" + +But the outlaw had passed out of view beyond the corner of one of the +monster boulders. After him went the white horse, slowly, picking his +steps, as if he were treading on dangerous and unknown ground and would +not trust his leader. Pierre was left to the loneliness of the gorge. + +The moonlight only served to make more visible its rocky nakedness, and +like that nakedness was the life of Pierre under his hopeless inward +eye. Over him loomed from either side the gleaming pinnacles of the +Twin Bears, and he remembered many a time when he had looked up toward +them from the crests of lesser mountains--looked up toward them as a +man looks to a great and unattainable ideal. + +Here he was come to the crest of all the ranges; here he was come to +the height and limit of his life, and what had he attained? Only a +cruel, cold isolation. It had been a steep ascent; the declivity of +the farther side led him down to a steep and certain ruin and the dark +night below. But he stiffened suddenly and threw his head high as if +he faced his fate; and behind him the cream-colored mare raised her +head with a toss and whinnied softly. + +It seemed to him that he had heard something calling, for the sound was +lost against the sweep of wind coming up the gorge. Something calling +there in the night of the mountains as he himself had called when he +rode so wildly in the quest for McGurk. How long ago had that been? + +But it came once more, clear beyond all doubt. He recognized the voice +in spite of the panting which shook it; a wild wail like that of a +heart-broken child, coming closer to him like some one, running: +"Pierre! Oh, Pierre!" + +And all at once he knew that the moon was broad and bright and fair, +and the heavens clear and shining with golden points of light. Once +more the cry. He raised his arms and waited. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX + +THE CROSS GOES ON + +So Mary, running through the wilderness of boulders, was guided +straight and found Pierre, and before the morning came, they were +journeying east side by side, east and down to the cities of culture +and a new life; but Jacqueline, a thousand times quicker of foot and +surer of eye and ear, missed her goal, went past it, and still on and +on, running finally at a steady trot. + +Until at last she knew that she had far overstepped her mark and sank +down against one of the rocks to rest and think out what next she must +do. There seemed nothing left. Even the sound of a gun fired she +might not hear, for that sharp call would not travel far against the +wind. + +It was while she sat there, burying Pierre in her thoughts, a white +shape came glimmering down to her through the moonlight. She was on +her feet at once, alert and gun in hand. It could only be one horse, +only one rider, McGurk coming down from his last killing with the sneer +on his pale lips. Well, he would complete his work this night and kill +her fighting face to face. + +A man's death; that was all she craved. She rose; she stepped boldly +out into the center of the trail between the rocks. + +There she saw the greatest wonder she had ever looked on. It was +McGurk walking with bare, bowed head, and after him, like a dog after +the master, followed the white horse. She shoved the revolver back +into the holster. This should be a fair fight. + +"McGurk!" + +Very slowly the head went up and back, and there he stood, not ten +paces from her, with the white moon full on his face. The sneer was +still there; the eyelid fluttered in scornful derision. And the heart +of Jacqueline came thundering in her throat. + +But she cried in a strong voice: "McGurk, d'you know me?" + +He did not answer. + +"You murderer, you night-rider! Look again: it's the last of the +Boones!" + +The sneer, it seemed to her, grew bitterer, but still the man did not +speak. Then the thought of Pierre, lying dead somewhere among the +rocks, burned across her mind. Her hand leaped for the revolver, and +whipped it out in a blinding flash to cover him, but with her finger +curling on the trigger she checked herself in the nick of time. McGurk +had made no move to protect himself. + +A strange feeling came to her that perhaps the man would not war +against women; the case of Mary was almost proof enough of that. But +as she stepped forward, wondering, she looked at the holster at his +side and saw that it was empty. Then she understood. + +Understood in a daze that Pierre had met the man and conquered him and +sent him out through the mountains disarmed. The white horse raised +his head and whinnied, and the sound gave a thought to her. She could +not kill this man, unarmed as he was; she could do a more shameful +thing. + +"The bluff you ran was a strong one, McGurk," she said bitterly, "and +you had these parts pretty well at a standstill; but Pierre was a bit +too much for you, eh?" + +The white face had not altered, and still it did not change, but the +sneer was turned steadily on her. + +She cried: "Go on! Go on down the gorge!" + +Like an automaton the man stepped forward, and after him paced the +white horse. She stepped between, caught the reins, and swung up to +the saddle, and sat there, controlling between her stirrups the +best-known mount in all the mountain-desert. A thrill of wild +exultation came to her. She cried: "Look back, McGurk! Your gun is +gone, your horse is gone; you're weaker than a woman in the mountains!" + +Yet he went on without turning, not with the hurried step of a coward, +but still as one stunned. Then, sitting quietly in the saddle, she +forgot McGurk and remembered Pierre. He was happy by this time with +the girl of the yellow hair; there was nothing remaining to her from +him except the ominous cross which touched cold against her breast. +That he had abandoned as he had abandoned her. + +What, then, was left for her? The horse of an outlaw for her to ride; +the heart of an outlaw in her breast. + +She touched the white horse with the spurs and went at a reckless +gallop, weaving back and forth among the boulders down the gorge. For +she was riding away from the past. + +The dawn came as she trotted out into a widening valley of the Old +Crow. To maintain even that pace she had to use the spurs continually, +for the white horse was deadly weary, and his head fell more and more. +She decided to make a brief halt, at last, and in order to make a fire +that would take the chill of the cold morning from her, she swung up to +the edge of the woods. There, before she could dismount, she saw a man +turn the shoulder of the slope. She drew the horse back deeper among +the trees and waited. + +He came with a halting step, reeling now and again, a big man, hatless, +coatless, apparently at the last verge of exhaustion. Now his foot +apparently struck a small rock, and he pitched to his face. It +required a long struggle before he could regain his feet; and now he +continued his journey at the same gait, only more uncertainly than +ever, close and closer. There was something familiar now about the +fellow's size, and something in the turn of his head. Suddenly she +rode out, crying: "Wilbur!" + +He swerved, saw the white horse, threw up his hands high above his +head, and went backward, reeling, with a hoarse scream which Jacqueline +would never forget. She galloped to him and swung to the ground. + +"It's me--Jack. D'you hear?" + +He would not lower those arms, and his eyes stared wildly at her. On +his forehead the blood had caked over a cut; his shirt was torn to +rags, and the hair matted wildly over his eyes. She caught his hands +and pulled them down. + +"It's not McGurk! Don't you hear me? It's Jack!" + +He reached out, like a blind man who has to see by the sense of touch, +and stroked her face. + +"Jack!" he whispered at last. "Thank God!" + +"What's happened?" + +"McGurk--" + +A violent palsy shook him, and he could not go on. + +"I know--I understand. He took your guns and left you to wander in +this hell! Damn him! I wish--" + +She stopped. + +"How long since you've eaten?" + +"Years!" + +"We'll eat--McGurk's food!" + +But she had to assist him up the slope to the trees, and there she left +him propped against a trunk, his arms fallen weakly at his sides, while +she built the fire and cooked the food. Afterward she could hardly +eat, watching him devour what she placed before him; and it thrilled +all the woman in her to a strange warmth to take care of the +long-rider. Then, except for the disfigured face and the bloodshot +eyes, he was himself. + +"Up there? What happened?" + +He pointed up the valley. + +"The girl and Pierre. They're together." + +"She found him?" + +"Yes." + +He bowed his head and sighed. + +"And the horse, Jack?" He said it with awe. + +"I took the horse from McGurk." + +"You!" + +She nodded. After all, it was not a lie. + +"You killed McGurk?" + +She said coolly: "I let him go the way he let you, Dick. He's on foot +in the mountains without a horse or a gun." + +"It isn't possible!" + +"There the horse for proof." + +He looked at her as if she were something more than human. + +"Our Jack--did this?" + +"We've got to start on. Can you walk, Dick?" + +"A thousand miles now." + +Yet he staggered when he tried to rise, and she made him climb up to +the saddle. The white horse walked on, and she kept her place close at +the stirrup of the rider. He would have stopped and dismounted for her +a hundred times, but she made him keep his place. + +"What's ahead of us, Jack? We're the last of the gang?" + +"The last of Boone's gang. We are." + +"The old life over again?" + +"What else?" + +"Yes; what else?" + +"Are you afraid, Dick?" + +"Not with you for a pal. Seven was too many; with two we can rule the +range." + +"Partners, Dick?" + +How could he tell that her voice was gone so gentle because she was +seeing in her mind's eye another face than his? He leaned toward her, +thrilling. + +"Why not something more than partners, after a while, Jack?" + +She smiled strangely up to him. + +"Because of this, Dick." + +And fumbling at her throat, she showed him the glittering metal of the +cross; an instinct made him swerve the horse away from her. + +"The cross goes on, but what of you Jack?" + +A long silence fell between them. Words died in the making. + +The great weight pressing down on that slender throat was like the iron +hand of a giant, but slowly one by one the sounds marshalled themselves: + +". . . God knows . . ." It was the passing of Judgment. "God +knows . . . not I." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RIDERS OF THE SILENCES*** + + +******* This file should be named 20044.txt or 20044.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/0/4/20044 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://www.gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: +https://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + diff --git a/20044.zip b/20044.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5ea4ba0 --- /dev/null +++ b/20044.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8759e31 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #20044 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/20044) |
