Chapter Twenty-seven
_The Last Stand_
At the same instant she saw what his keener eye had discerned the momentbefore. A small trail of dust was blowing down the road, just below theplace where the two hills leaned together. Under it was the dimlydiscernible, dust-veiled form of a horseman riding at full speed.
"Fate is against me," said John Mark in his quiet way. "Why should thisdare-devil be destined to hunt me? I can gain nothing by his death butyour hate. And, if he succeeds in breaking through Lefty, as he hasbroken through Kruger, even then he shall win nothing. I swear it!"
As he spoke he looked at her in gloomy resolution, but the girl was onfire--fear and joy were fighting in her face. In her ecstasy she wasclinging to the man beside her.
"Think of it--think of it!" she exclaimed. "He has done what I said hewould do. Ah, I read his mind! Ronicky Doone, Ronicky Doone, was thereever your like under the wide, wide sky? He's brushed Kruger out of hisway--"
"Not entirely," said John Mark calmly, "not entirely, you see?"
As he spoke they heard again the unmistakable sound of a rifle shot, andthen another and another, ringing from the place where the two hillsleaned over the road.
"It's Kruger," declared John Mark calmly. "That chivalrous idiot, Doone,apparently shot him down and didn't wait to finish him. Very clever workon his part, but very sloppy. However, he seems to have wounded Krugerso badly that my gunman can't hit his mark."
For Ronicky Doone, if it were indeed he, was still galloping down theroad, more and more clearly discernible, while the rifle firing behindhim ceased.
"Of course that firing will be the alarm for Lefty," went on John Mark,seeming to enjoy the spectacle before him, as if it were a thing fromwhich he was entirely detached. "And Lefty can make his choice. Krugerwas his pal. If he wants to revenge the fall of Kruger he may shoot frombehind a tree. If not, he'll shoot from the open, and it will be an evenfight."
The terror of it all, the whole realization, sprang up in the girl. In amoment she was crying: "Stop him, John--for Heaven's sake, find a way tostop him."
"There is only one power that can turn the trick, I'm afraid," answeredJohn Mark. "That power is Lefty."
"If he shoots Lefty he'll come straight toward us on his way to thehouse, and if he sees you--"
"If he sees me he'll shoot me, of course," declared Mark.
She stared at him. "John," she said, "I know you're brave, but you won'ttry to face him?"
"I'm fairly expert with a gun." He added: "But it's good of you to beconcerned about me."
"I am concerned, more than concerned, John. A woman has premonitions,and I tell you I know, as well as I know I'm standing here, that if youface Ronicky Doone you'll go down."
"You're right," replied Mark. "I fear that I have been too much of aspecialist, so I shall not face Doone."
"Then start for the house--and hurry!"
"Run away and leave you here?"
The dust cloud and the figure of the rider in it were sweeping rapidlydown on the grove in the hollow, where Lefty waited. And the girl wastorn between three emotions: Joy at the coming of the adventurer, fearfor him, terror at the thought of his meeting with Mark.
"It would be murder, John! I'll go with you if you'll start now!"
"No," he said quietly, "I won't run. Besides it is impossible for him totake you from me."
"Impossible?" she asked. "What do you mean?"
"When the time comes you'll see! Now he's nearly there--watch!"
The rider was in full view now, driving his horse at a stretchinggallop. There was no doubt about the identity of the man. They could notmake out his face, of course, at that distance, but something in thecareless dash of his seat in the saddle, something about the slender,erect body cried out almost in words that this was Ronicky Doone. Amoment later the first treetops of the grove brushed across him, and hewas lost from view.
The girl buried her face in her hands, then she looked up. By this timehe must have reached Lefty, and yet there was no sound of shooting. HadLefty found discretion the better part of valor and let him go byunhindered? But, in that case, the swift gallop of the horse would haveborne the rider through the grove by this time.
"What's happened?" she asked of John Mark. "What can have happened downthere?"
"A very simple story," said Mark. "Lefty, as I feared, has been morechivalrous than wise. He has stepped out into the road and orderedRonicky to stop, and Ronicky has stopped. Now he is sitting in hissaddle, looking down to Lefty, and they are holding a parley--very liketwo knights of the old days, exchanging compliments before they try tocut each other's throats."
But, even as he spoke, there was the sound of a gun exploding, and thena silence.
"One shot--one revolver shot," said John Mark in his deadly calm voice."It is as I said. They drew at a signal, and one of them proved far thefaster. It was a dead shot, for only one was needed to end the battle.One of them is standing, the other lies dead under the shadow of thatgrove, my dear. Which is it?"
"Which is it?" asked the girl in a whisper. Then she threw up her handswith a joyous cry: "Ronicky Doone! Ronicky, Ronicky Doone!"
A horseman was breaking into view through the grove, and now he rode outinto full view below them--unmistakably Ronicky Doone! Even at thatdistance he heard the cry, and, throwing up his hand with a shout thattingled faintly up to them, he spurred straight up the slope towardthem. Ruth Tolliver started forward, but a hand closed over her wristwith a biting grip and brought her to a sudden halt. She turned to findJohn Mark, an automatic hanging loosely in his other hand.
His calm had gone, and in his dead-white face the eyes were rolling andgleaming, and his set lips trembled. "You were right," he said, "Icannot face him. Not that I fear death, but there would be a thousanddamnations in it if I died knowing that he would have you after my eyeswere closed. I told you he could not take you--not living, my dear. Deadhe may have us both."
"John!" said the girl, staring and bewildered. "In the name of pity,John, in the name of all the goodness you have showed me, don't do it."
He laughed wildly. "I am about to lose the one thing on earth I haveever cared for, and still I can smile. I am about to die by my own hand,and still I can smile. For the last time, will you stand up like yourold brave self?"
"Mercy!" she cried. "In Heaven's name--"
"Then have it as you are!" he said, and she saw the sun flash on thesteel, and he raised the gun.
She closed her eyes--waited--heard the distant drumming of hoofs on theturf of the hillside. Then she caught the report of a gun.
But it was strangely far away, that sound. She thought at first that thebullet must have numbed, as it struck her. Presently a shooting painwould pass through her body--then death.
Opening her bewildered eyes she beheld John Mark staggering, theautomatic lying on the ground, his hands clutching at his breast. Thenglancing to one side she saw the form of Ronicky Doone riding as fast asspur would urge his horse, the long Colt balanced in his hand. That,then, was the shot she had heard--a long-range chance shot when he sawwhat was happening on top of the hill.
So swift was Doone's coming that, by the time she had reached her feetagain, he was beside her, and they leaned over John Mark together. Asthey did so Mark's eyes opened, then they closed again, as if with pain.When he looked again his sight was clear.
"As I expected," he said dryly, "I see your faces together--bothtogether, and actually wasting sympathy on me? Tush, tush! So rich inhappiness that you can waste time on me?"
"John," said the girl on her knees and weeping beside him, "you knowthat I have always cared for you, but as a brother, John, and not--"
"Really," he said calmly, "you are wasting emotion. I am not going todie, and I wish you would put a bandage around me and send for some ofthe men at the house to carry me up there. That bullet of yours--byHarry, a very pretty snap shot--just raked across my breast, as far as Ican make out. Perhaps it broke a bone or two, but that
's all. Yes, I amto have the pleasure of living."
His smile was ghastly thing, and, growing suddenly weak, as if for thefirst time in his life he allowed his indomitable spirit to relax, hishead fell to one side, and he lay in a limp faint.
Chapter Twenty-eight
_Hope Deferred_
Time in six months brought the year to the early spring, that time wheneven the mountain desert forgets its sternness for a month or two. Sixmonths had not made Bill Gregg rich from his mine, but it had convincedhim, on the contrary, that a man with a wife must have a sure income,even if it be a small one.
He squatted on a small piece of land, gathered a little herd, and,having thrown up a four-room shack, he and Caroline lived as happily asking and queen. Not that domains were very large, but, from their hut onthe hill, they could look over a fine sweep of country, which did notall belong to them, to be sure, but which they constantly promisedthemselves should one day be theirs.
It was the dull period of the afternoon, the quiet, waiting period whichcomes between three or four o'clock and the sunset, and Bill and hiswife sat in the shadow of the mighty silver spruce before their door.The great tree was really more of a home for them than the roof they hadbuilt to sleep under.
Presently Caroline stood up and pointed. "She's coming," she said, and,looking down the hillside, she smiled in anticipation.
The rider below them, winding up the trail, looked up and waved, thenurged her horse to a full gallop for the short remnant of the distancebefore her. It was Ruth Tolliver who swung down from the saddle,laughing and joyous from the ride.
A strangely changed Ruth she was. She had turned to a brown beauty inthe wind and the sun of the West, a more buoyant and more gracefulbeauty. She had accepted none of the offers of John Mark, but, leavingher old life entirely behind her, as Ronicky Doone had suggested, shewent West to make her own living. With Caroline and Bill Gregg she hadfound a home, and her work was teaching the valley school, half a dozenmiles away.
"Any mail?" asked Bill, for she passed the distant group of mail boxeson her way to the school.
At that the face of the girl darkened. "One letter," she said, "and Iwant you to read it aloud, Caroline. Then we'll all put our headstogether and see if we can make out what it means." She handed theletter to Caroline, who shook it out. "It's from Ronicky," sheexclaimed.
"It's from Ronicky," said Ruth Tolliver gravely, so gravely that theother two raised their heads and cast silent glances at her.
Caroline read aloud: "Dear Ruth, I figure that I'm overdue back atBill's place by about a month--"
"By two months," corrected Ruth soberly.
"And I've got to apologize to them and you for being so late. Matter offact I started right pronto to get back on time, but something turnedup. You see, I went broke."
Caroline dropped the letter with an exclamation. "Do you think he's goneback to gambling, Ruth?"
"No," said the girl. "He gave me his promise never to play for moneyagain, and a promise from Ronicky Doone is as good as minted gold."
"It sure is," agreed Bill Gregg.
Caroline went on with the letter: "I went broke because Pete Darnely wasin a terrible hole, having fallen out with his old man, and Pete neededa lift. Which of course I gave him pronto, Pete being a fine gent."
There was an exclamation of impatience from Ruth Tolliver.
"Isn't that like Ronicky? Isn't that typical?"
"I'm afraid it is," said the other girl with a touch of sadness. "Dearold Ronicky, but such a wild man!"
She continued in the reading: "But I've got a scheme on now by whichI'll sure get a stake and come back, and then you and me can getmarried, as soon as you feel like saying the word. The scheme is to finda lost mine--"
"A lost mine!" shouted Bill Gregg, his practical miner's mind revoltingat this idea. "My guns, is Ronicky plumb nutty? That's all he's got todo--just find a 'lost mine?' Well, if that ain't plenty, may I never seea yearling ag'in!"
"Find a lost mine," went on Caroline, her voice trembling between tearsand laughter, "and sink a new shaft, a couple of hundred feet to findwhere the old vein--"
"Sink a shaft a couple of hundred feet!" said Bill Gregg. "And himbroke! Where'll he get the money to sink the shaft?"
"When we begin to take out the pay dirt," went on Caroline, "I'll eithercome or send for you and--"
"Hush up!" said Bill Gregg softly.
Caroline looked up and saw the tears streaming down the face of RuthTolliver. "I'm so sorry, poor dear!" she whispered, going to the othergirl. But Ruth Tolliver shook her head.
"I'm only crying," she said, "because it's so delightfully andbeautifully and terribly like Ronicky to write such a letter and tell ofsuch plans. He's given away a lot of money to help some spendthrift, andnow he's gone to get more money by finding a lost mine!' But do you seewhat it means, Caroline? It means that he doesn't love me--really!"
"Don't love you?" asked Bill Gregg. "Then he's a plumb fool. Why--"
"Hush, Bill," put in Caroline. "You mustn't say that," she added toRuth. "Of course you have reason to be sad about it and angry, too."
"Sad, perhaps, but not angry," said Ruth Tolliver. "How could I ever bereally angry with Ronicky? Hasn't he given me a chance to live a cleanlife? Hasn't he given me this big free open West to live in? And whatwould I be without Ronicky? What would have happened to me in New York?Oh, no, not angry. But I've simply waked up, Caroline. I see now thatRonicky never cared particularly about me. He was simply in love withthe danger of my position. As a matter of fact I don't think he evertold me in so many words that he loved me. I simply took it for grantedbecause he did such things for me as even a man in love would not havedone. After the danger and uniqueness were gone Ronicky simply lostinterest."
"Don't say such things!" exclaimed Caroline.
"It's true," said Ruth steadily. "If he really wanted to comehere--well, did you ever hear of anything Ronicky wanted that he didn'tget?"
"Except money," suggested Bill Gregg. "Well, he even gets that, but mostgenerally he gives it away pretty pronto."
"He'd come like a bullet from a gun if he really wanted me," said Ruth."No, the only way I can bring Ronicky is to surround myself with newdangers, terrible dangers, make myself a lost cause again. Then Ronickywould come laughing and singing, eager as ever. Oh, I think I know him!"
"And what are you going to do?" asked Caroline.
"The only thing I can do," said the other girl. "I'm going to wait."
* * * * *
Far, far north two horsemen came at that same moment to a splitting ofthe trail they rode. The elder, bearded man, pointed ahead.
"That's the roundabout way," he said, "but it's sure the only safe way.We'll travel there, Ronicky, eh?"
Ronicky Doone lifted his head, and his bay mare lifted her head at thesame instant. The two were strangely in touch with one another.
"I dunno," he said, "I ain't heard of anybody taking the short cut foryears--not since the big slide in the canyon. But I got a feeling I'dsort of like to try it. Save a lot of time and give us a lot of fun."
"Unless it breaks our necks."
"Sure," said Ronicky, "but you don't enjoy having your neck safe andsound, unless you take a chance of breaking it, once in a while."
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