CHAPTER 12
"And now," said Pete Reeve, looking almost ruefully at his pupil,"with a little practice on that, they ain't a man in the world thatcould safely take a chance with you. I couldn't myself."
"Pete!"
"I mean it, son. Not a man in the world. I was afraid all the time. Iwas afraid you didn't have that there electricity in you or whateverthey call it. I was afraid you had too much beef and not enoughnerves. But you haven't. And now that you have the knack, keeppracticing every day--thinking the gun out of the leather--that'sthe trick!"
Bull Hunter looked down to the gun with great, staring eyes, as thoughit was the first time in his life that he had seen the weapon. PeteReeve noted his expression and abruptly became silent, grinninghappily, for there was the dawn of a great discovery in the eyes ofthe big man.
The gun was no longer a gun. It was a part of him. It was flesh of hisflesh. He had literally thought it out of the holster, and the reportof the weapon had startled him more than it had frightened anyone elsein the building. He looked in amazement down to the broad expanse ofhis right hand. It was trembling a little, as though, in fact, thathand were filled with electric currents. He closed his fingers aboutthe butt of the gun. At once the hand became steady as a rock. Hetoyed with the weapon in loosely opened fingers again, and it sliddeftly. It seemed impossible for it to fall into an awkward position.
The voice of Pete Reeve came from a great distance. "And they's onlyone thing lacking to make you perfect--and that's to have to fightonce for your life and drop the other gent. After that happens--well,Pete Reeve will have a successor!"
How much that meant Bull Hunter very well knew. The terrible fame ofPete Reeve ran the length and the breadth of the mountains. Of courseBull did not for a moment dream that Pete meant what he said. It wasall figurative. It was said to fill him with self-confidence, but partof it was true. He was no longer the clumsy-handed Bull Hunter of themoment before.
A great change had taken place. From that moment his very ways ofthinking would be different. He would be capable of less mistymovements of the mind. He would be capable of using his brain asfast as his hand acted. A tingle of new life, new possibilities wereopening before him. He had always accepted himself as a stupidlyhopeless burden in the world, a burden on his friends, useless,cloddish. Now he found that he had hopes. His own mind and body was anundiscovered country which he was just beginning to enter. What mightbe therein was worth a dream or two, and Bull Hunter straightway beganto dream, happily. That was a talent which he had always possessed insuperabundance.
The brief remainder of the day passed quickly; and then just beforesupper time a stranger came to call on Pete Reeve. He was a tall, bonyfellow with straight-looking eyes and an imperious lift of his headwhen he addressed anyone. Manners was his name--Hugh Manners. When hewas introduced he ran his eyes unabashedly over the great bulk of BullHunter, and then promptly he turned his back on the big man andexcluded him from the heart of the conversation. It irritated Bullunwontedly. He discovered that he had changed a great deal from theold days at his uncle's shack when he was used to the scorn and theindifference of all men as a worthless and stupid hulk of flesh, withno mind worth considering, but he said nothing. Another great talentof Bull's was his ability to keep silent.
Shortly after this they went down to the supper table. All through themeal Hugh Manners engaged Pete Reeve in soft, rapid-voicedconversation which was so nicely gauged as to range that Bull Hunterheard no more than murmurs. He seemed to have a great many importantthings to say to Pete, and he kept Pete nodding and listening with afrown of serious interest. At first Pete tried to make up for theinsolent neglect of his companion by drawing a word or two from Bullfrom time to time, but it was easy for Bull to see that Pete wished tohear his newfound friend hold forth. It hurt Bull, but he resignedhimself and drew out of the talk.
After supper he went up to the room and found a book. There hadbeen little time for reading since he passed the first stages ofconvalescence from his wounds. Pete Reeve had kept him constantlyoccupied with gun work, and the hunger for print had been accumulatingin Bull. He started to satisfy it now beside the smoking lamp. Hehardly heard Pete and Hugh Manners enter the room and go out againonto the second story of the veranda on which their room opened. Fromtime to time the murmur of their voices came to him, but heregarded it not.
It was only when he had lowered the book to muse over a strangesentence that his wandering eye was caught beyond the window by theflash of a falling star of unusual brilliance. It was so bright,indeed, that he crossed the room to look out at the sky, stepping verysoftly, for he had grown accustomed to lightening his footfall, andnow unconsciously the murmuring voices of the talkers made him movestealthily--not to steal upon them, but to keep from breaking in ontheir talk. But when he came to the door opening on the veranda thewords he heard banished all thought of falling stars. He listened,dazed.
Pete Reeve had just broken into the steady flow of the newcomer'stalk.
"It's no use, Hugh. I can't go, you see. I'm tied down here with thebig fellow."
"Tied down?" thought Bull Hunter, and he winced.
A curse, then, "Why don't you throw the big hulk over?"
"He ain't a hulk," protested Pete somewhat sharply, and the heart ofBull warmed again.
"Hush," said Hugh Manners. "He'll be hearing."
"No danger. He's at his books, and that means that he wouldn't hear acannon. That's his way."
"He don't look like a book-learned gent," said Hugh Manners with morerespect in his voice.
"He don't look like a lot of things that he is," said Pete. "I don'tknow what he is myself--except that he's the straightest, gentlest,kindest, simplest fellow that ever walked."
Bull Hunter turned to escape from hearing this eulogy, but he darednot move for fear his retreat might be heard--and that would beimmensely embarrassing.
"Just what he is I don't know," said Pete again. "He doesn't knowhimself. He's had what you might call an extra-long childhood--that'swhy he's got that misty look in his eyes."
"That fool look," scoffed Hugh Manners.
"You think so? I tell you, Manners, he's just waking up, and when he'sclear waked up he'll be a world-beater! You saw that doorknob?"
"Smashed? Yep. What of it?"
"He done it with a gun, standing clean across the room, with a flashdraw, shooting from the hip--and he made a clean center hit of it."
Pete brought out these facts jerkily, one by one, piling oneextraordinary thing upon the other; and when he had finished, HughManners gasped.
"I'm mighty glad," he said, "that you told me that, I--I might of madesome mistake."
"You'd sure've made an awful mistake if you tangle with him, Manners.Don't forget it."
"Your work, I guess."
"Partly," said Pete modestly. "I speeded his draw up a bit, but he hadthe straight eye and the steady hand when I started with him. Hedidn't need much target practice--just the draw."
"And he's really fast?"
"He's got my draw."
That told volumes to Manners.
"And why not take him in with us?" he asked, after a reverent pause.
"Not that!" exclaimed Pete. "Besides, he couldn't ride and keep upwith us. He'd wear out three hosses a day with his weight."
"Maybe we could find an extra-strong hoss. He ain't so big as to killa good strong hoss, Pete. I've seen a hoss that carried--"
"No good," said Pete with decision. "I wouldn't even talk to him aboutour business. He don't guess it. He thinks that I'm--well, he don'thave any idea about how I make a living, that's all!"
"But how _will_ you make a living if you stick with him?"
"I dunno," Pete sighed. "But I'm not going to turn him down."
"But ain't you about used up your money?"
"It's pretty low."
"And you're supporting him?"
"Sure. He ain't got a cent."
Bull started. He had not thought of that matter at all,
but it stoodto reason that Pete had expended a large sum on him.
"Sponging?" said Manners cynically.
"Don't talk about it that way," said Pete uneasily. "He's like a bigkid. He don't think about those things. If I was broke, he'd give mehis last cent."
"That's what you think."
"Shut up, Manners. Bull is like--a cross between a son and a brother."
"Pretty big of bone for your son, Pete. You'll have a hard timesupporting him," and Manners chuckled. Then, more seriously, "You'remaking a fool of yourself, pardner. Throw this big hulk over and comeback--with me! They's loads of money staked out waiting for us!"
"Listen," said Pete solemnly. "I'm going to tell you why I'll neverturn Bull Hunter down if I live to be a hundred! When I was a kid adirty trick was done me by old Bill Campbell. I waited all these yearstill a little while ago to get back at him. Then I found him andfought him. I didn't kill him, but I ruined him and sent him back tohis home tied on his hoss with a busted shoulder that he'll never beable to use again. His right shoulder, at that."
There was a subdued exclamation from Manners, but Pete went on, "Seemshe was the uncle of this Bull; took Bull in when Bull was orphaned,because he had to, not because he wanted to, and he raised Bull up tobe a sort of general slave around the place. Well, when he comes backhome all shot up he tries to get his sons to take my trail, but theydidn't have the nerve. But Bull that they'd always looked down on fora big good-for-nothing hulk--Bull stepped out and took my trail onfoot and hit across the mountains in a storm, above the timberline!
"And he followed till he come up with me here where he found me injail, accused of a murder. Did he turn back? He didn't. He didn't wantthe law to hang me. He wanted to kill me with his own hands so's hecould go back home and hear his uncle call him a man and praise him alittle. That shows how simple he is.
"Well, I'll cut a long story short. Bull scouted around, found outthat the sheriff had done the killing himself and just saddled theblame on me, and then he makes the sheriff confess, gets me out ofjail, and takes me out in the woods.
"'Now,' says he, 'you've got a gun, and I've got a gun, and I'm goingto kill you if I can.'
"No use arguing. He goes for his gun. I didn't want to kill a manwho'd saved my life. I tried to stop him with bullets. I shot himthrough the right arm and made him drop his gun. Then he charged mebarehanded!"
There was a gasp from Manners.
"Barehanded," repeated Pete. "That's the stuff that's in him! I shothim through the left leg. He pitched onto his face, and then hanged ifhe didn't get up on one arm and one leg and throw himself at me. Hegot that big arm of his around me. I couldn't do a thing. My gun wassqueezed between him and me. He started fumbling. Pretty soon he foundmy throat with them big gorilla fingers of his. I thought my lastminute had come. One squeeze would have smashed my windpipe--andgood-bye, Pete Reeve!
"But he wouldn't kill me. After I'd filled him full of lead, he let mego. After he had the advantage he wouldn't take it." Pete choked. Heconcluded briefly, "He mighty near bled to death before I could getthe wounds bandaged, and then I stayed on here and nursed him. Matterof fact, Manners, he saved my life twice and that's why I'm tied tohim for life. Besides, between you and me, he means more to me thanthe rest of the world put together."
"Listen," said Manners, after a pause. "I see what you mean and I'lltell you what you got to do. That big boy will do anything you tellhim. He follers you with his eyes. Well, we'll find a hoss that willcarry him. I guarantee that. Then you put your game up to him, bestfoot forward, and he'll come with us."
"Not in a thousand years," said Pete with emotion. "That boy willnever go crooked if I can keep him straight. Do you know what he'sdone? Because his uncle and cousins tried to get me, he's sworn neverto see one of 'em again. He's given them up--his own flesh andblood--to follow me, and I'm going to stick to him. That's completeand final."
"No, Pete, of all the fools--"
Bull waited to hear no more. He stole back to the table on the farside of the room sick at heart and sat down to think or try to think.
The truth came to him slowly. Pete Reeve, whom he had taken as hisideal, was, as a matter of fact--he dared not think what! The blowshook him to the center. But he had been living on the charity ofReeve. He had been draining the resources of the generous fellow.And how would he ever be able to pay him back?
One thing was definite. He must put an end to any increase of theobligations. He must leave.
The moment the thought came to him he tore a flyleaf out of the bookand wrote in his big, sprawling hand:
_Dear Pete:_
_I have to tell you that it has just occurred to me that you have been paying all the bills, and I've been paying none. That has to stop, and the only way for me to stop it is to go off all by myself. I hate to sneak away, but if I stay to say good-bye I know you'll argue me out of it because I'm no good at an argument. Good-bye and good luck, and remember that I'm not forgetting anything that has happened; that when I have enough money to pay you back I'm coming to find you if I have to travel all the way around the world._
_Your pardner, BULL_
That done, he paused a moment, tempted to tear up the little slip. Butthe original impulse prevailed. He put the paper on the table, pickedup his hat, and stole slowly from the room.