Chapter XXII. The Fifth Man
The moment Vic Gregg stood in the open air, with the last appeal ofBetty ringing still at his ear, he felt a profound conviction that hewas about to die and he stood a moment breathing deeply, taking thefaint alkali scent of the dust and looking up to the stars. It was thatmoment when night blends with day and there is no sign of light in thesky except that the stars burn more and more bright as the darknessthickens, and Vic Gregg watched the stars draw down more closelyand believed that he was seeing this for the last time. Alder seemedinexpressibly dear to him as he stood there through a little space, andthe vaguely discernible outlines of the shacks along the street werelike the faces of friends. In that house behind him was Betty Neal,waiting, praying for him, and indeed, had it not been for shame, hewould have weakened now and turned back. For he hardly knew which wayto turn. He wanted to save Ronicky and the other two from the attackof Barry, yet he would not lay a trap for Dan. To Barry he owed a vastdebt; his debt to the three was that which any human being owes toanother. He had to save them from the wolf which ran through the nightin the body of a man.
That thought sent him at a run for Captain Lorrimer's saloon. It waslighted brilliantly by the gasoline lamp within, but a short distanceaway from it he heard no sound and his imagination drew a terriblepicture of the big, empty room, with three dead men lying in the centerof it where the destroyer had reached them one by one. That was whattook the blood from his face and made him a white mask of tragedy whenhe stepped into the door of the saloon. It was quiet, but half a dozenmen sat at the tables in the corner, and among them were Ronicky and theother two. Sliver Waldron was in the very act of pulling back his chair,and perhaps all three had just come in. Perhaps Barry had come here tolook for his quarry and found them not yet arrived; perhaps he wasnow hunting in other places through the town; perhaps he was even nowcrouched in the shadow near at hand and ready to attack.
It made the hand of Vic Gregg contract with a cruel pressure when itfell on the shoulder of Sliver Waldron.
"Now, what in hell!" grunted that hardened warrior.
He had no love for Vic Gregg since that day when the posse rode throughthe hills after him; neither had Ronicky or Gus Reeve, who rose fromtheir chairs as if at a signal. "Come with me, gents," said Vic. "An'come quick!"
They asked no questions and did not stay to argue the point for he hadthat in his face which meant action. He led them outside, and behind thehorse shed of the saloon.
"We're alone?" he asked.
"Nothin' in sight."
"Look sharp."
They peered about them through the night, and a wan moon only helped tomake the darkness visible.
"Gents, we may be alone now, but we ain't goin' to be alone long. Getyour hosses and ride like hell. Barry is in town!"
"Vic, you're drunk."
"I tell you, he's been seen--"
"Then by God," growled Sliver Waldron, "lead me to him. I need to have alittle talk with that gent."
"Lead you to him?" echoed Vic Gregg. "Sliver, are you hungerin' to pushdaisies?"
"Look here, Bud," answered the older man, and he laid a hand on theshoulder of Vic. "You been with this Barry, gent, and you've lived inhis house. D'you mean to say you're one of the lot that talks about himlike he was a ghost bullets couldn't harm? I tell you, son, they's beenso much chatter about him that folks forget he's human. I'm goin' toremind 'em of that little fact."
Vic Gregg groaned. Even while he talked he was glancing over hisshoulder as if he feared the shadows under the moon. His voice was halfgasp, half whisper.
"Sliver--Ronicky--don't ask me how I know--jest believe me when I sayDan Barry'll never die by the hand of any man. I tell you--he can see inthe dark!"
A soft oath from Gus Reeve; a twitching of Ronicky's head told that thislast had taken effect. Sliver Waldron suddenly altered his manner.
"All right, Vic. Trot back into town, or come with us. We're going tomove out."
"The wisest thing you ever done, Sliver."
"I'm feelin' the same way," breathed Gus Reeve.
"S'long," whispered Vic Gregg, and faded into the night, running.
The others, without a word among themselves, gathered their horses andstruck down the valley out of Alder. The padding and swish of the sandabout the feet of their mounts; the very creaking of the saddle leatherseemed to alarm them, and they were continually turning and lookingback. That is, Gus Reeve and Ronicky Joe manifested these signs oftrouble, but Sliver Waldron, riding in the center of the trio, nevermoved his head. They were hardly well out of the town when a swift rushof hoof beats swept up from behind, and a horseman darted into the palemist of the valley bending low over his pommel to cut the wind of hisriding.
"Who is it?"
"Vic Gregg!" muttered Gus Reeve. "Stir, along, Sliver. Vic ain'tlingerin' any!"
But Sliver Waldron drew rein, and let his horse go on at a walk.
"Hearin' you talk, Ronicky," he said, "you'd think you was really scaredof Dan Barry."
Ronicky Joe stiffened in his saddle and peered through the uncertainlight to make out if Sliver were jesting. But the latter seemedperfectly grave.
"A gent would almost think," went on Sliver, "that we three was runnin'away from Barry, instead of goin' out to set a trap for him."
There was something nearly akin to a grunt from Gus Reeve, but Ronickymerely continued to stare at the leader.
"'S a matter of fact," said Sliver, "when Vic was talkin' I sort of feltthe chills go up my back. How about you, Ronicky?"
"I'll tell a man," sighed Ronicky. "While Vic was talkin' I seen thatdevil comin' on his hoss like he done when he broke out of the cabinthat night. I'll tell you straight, Sliver. I had my gun drilled on him.I couldn't of missed; but after I fired he kept straight on. It was likepuncturin' a shadow!"
"Sure," nodded Sliver. "Shootin' by night ain't ever a sure thing."
Ronicky wiped his heated brow.
"So I sent Vic away before he had a chance to get real nervous. But whenhe comes back--well, boys, it'll be kind of amusin' to watch Vic's facewhen he saunters into town tomorrow and sees Dan Barry--maybe dead,maybe in the irons. Eh?"
Only a deep silence answered him, but in the interest which his wordsexcited the terror seemed to have left Ronicky and Gus. They rode close,their heads toward Sliver alone.
"There goes Vic," mused Sliver. "There he goes--go on. Mac, you oldfool!--scared to death, ridin' for his life. And why? Because hebelieves some ghost stories he's heard about Dan Barry!"
"Ghost stories?" echoed Reeve. "Some of 'em ain't fairy tales, Sliver."
"Jest name one that ain't!"
"Well, the way he trailed Jim Silent. We've all heard of Silent, andBarry--was too good for him."
"Bah," sneered Sliver. "Too good for Silent? Ye lied readily enough:booze done for Silent long before Barry come along."
"That right?"
"I'll tell a man it is. Mind you, I don't say Barry ain't handy with hisgun; but he's done a little and the gents have furnished the trimmin's.Look here, if Barry is the man-eater they say, why did he pick a timefor comin' down when the sheriff was out of town?"
"By God!" exclaimed Ronicky. "I never thought of that!"
"Sure you didn't," chuckled Sliver. "But this sucker figures that youand Gus and me will be easy pickin's. He figures we'll do what Vicdid--hit for the tall pines. Then he'll blow around how he ran the fourof us out of Alder. Be pleasant comin' back to talk like that, eh?"
There was a volley of rapid curses from the other two.
"We'll get this cheap skate, Sliver," suggested Ronicky. "We'll get thisghost and tie him up and take him back to Alder and make a show of him."
"We will," nodded Sliver. "Have you figured how?"
"Lie out here in the bush. He'll hunt around Alder all night and whenthe mornin' comes he'll leave and he'll come out this way. We'll beready for him where the valley's narrow down there. They say his hossand his dog is as bad as any two ordinary
men. Well, that's three ofthem and here's three of us. It's an even break, eh?"
"Ronicky," murmured Sliver, "I always knowed you had the brains. We'lltake this gent and tame him, and run him back to Alder on the end of arope."
Gus Reeve whooped and waved his hat at the thought.
So the three reached the point where the shadowy walls of the valleynarrowed, drew almost together. There they placed the horses in a hollownear the southern cliff, and they returned to take post. There wasonly one bridle path which wound through the gulch here, and the threeconcealed themselves behind a thicket of sagebrush to wait.
They laid their plan carefully. Each man was to have his peculiar duty:Gus Reeve, an adept with the rope, would wait until the black stallionwas cantering past and then toss his noose and throw the horse. At thesame instant, Ronicky Joe would shoot the wolf-dog, and Sliver Waldronwould perforate Dan Barry while the latter rolled in the dust, unless,indeed, he was pinioned by the fall of his horse, in which case theywould have the added glory of taking him alive.
By the time all these details were settled the pale moonlight was shotthrough with the rose of dawn. Then, rapidly, the mountains lifted intoview, range beyond range, all their gullies deep blue and purple, andhere and there sharp triangles of snow. There was not a cloud, not atrace of mist, and through the crisp, thin air the vision carried as ifthrough a telescope. They could count the trees on the upper ridges;and that while the floor of the valley was still in shadow. This in turngrew brilliant, and everywhere the sage brush glittered like foliagecarved in gray-green quartz.
It was then that they saw Dan Barry, while the dawn was still aroundthem, and before the sun pushed up in the east above the mountains. Hecame winding down the bridle path with the dawn glittering on the sideof Satan, and a dark, swift form spiriting on ahead.
"Look at him!" muttered Sliver Waldron. "The damned wolf is a scout.See him nose around that hummock? Watch him smell behind that bush. Theblack devil!"
Bart, in fact, wove a loose course before his master, running here andthere to all points of vantage, as if he knew that danger lurked ahead,but where he came close, with only the narrow passage between thecliffs, he seemed to make up his animal brain that there could be notrouble in so constricted a place, and darted straight ahead.
"They're ours," whispered Waldron. "Steady, boys. Gus, get your rope,get ready!"
Gus tossed the noose a little wider, and gathered himself for the throw,but it seemed as if the wolf saw or heard the movement. He stoppedsuddenly and stood with his head high; behind him the rider checked theblack horse; all three waited.
"He's tryin' to get the wind," chuckled Waldron, "but the wind is ag'in'our faces!"
It was only a slight breeze, but it came directly against the lurkingthree; and moreover the scent of the sage was particularly keen at thistime of the day, and quite sufficient to blur the scent of man even inthe keen nostrils of Black Bart. Only for a second or so he stood theresniffing the wind, a huge animal, larger than any wolf the three hadever seen; his face wise in a certain bear-like fashion from the threegray marks in the center of his forehead. Now he trotted ahead, and thestallion broke into a gallop behind.
"My God," whispered Sliver to Gus, "don't spoil that hoss when you daubthe rope on him! Look at that action; like runnin' water!"
They came more rapidly. As if the rider knew that a point of danger wasthere to be passed, he spoke to his mount, and Satan lengthened into aracing gait that blew the brim of the rider's hat straight up. On theycame. The wolf-dog darted past. Then as the horse swept by, Gus Reeverose from behind his bush and the rope darted snakelike from his hand.The forefeet of Satan landed in the noose, and the next instant theback-flung weight of Gus tightened the rope, and Satan shot over uponhis side, flinging the master clear of the saddle.
It sent him rolling over and over in the dust, and Sliver Waldron was onhis feet with both guns in action, sending bullet after bullet towardsthe tumbling body. Gus Reeve was running towards the stallion, his ropein action to entangle one of the hindfeet and make sure of his prey;Ronicky Joe had leaped up with a yell and blazed away at Black Bart.
It was no easy mark to strike, for the moment the rope shot out from thehand of Gus, the wolf-dog whirled in his tracks and darted straight forthe scene of action. It was that, perhaps, which troubled the aim ofRonicky more than anything else, for wild animals do not whirl inthis fashion and run for an assailant. He had expected to find himselfplugging away at a flying target in the distance; instead, the blackmonster was rushing straight for him, silently. Indeed, all thatfollowed was in silence after that first wild Indian yell from RonickyJoe. His gun barked, but Black Bart was running like a football playerdown a broken field, swerving here and there with uncanny speed. Again,again, Joe missed, and then flung up his arm toward the flying danger.But Black Bart shot from the ground to make his kill. He could bringdown the strongest bull in the herd. What was the arm of a man to him?His snake-like head shot through that futile guard; his teeth cut offthe screams of Ronicky Joe. Down they went. The gun flew from the handof Ronicky; for an instant he struggled with hands and writhing legs,and then the murderous teeth of Bart sank deeper, found the life. Thedead body was limp, but Bart, shaking his hold deeper to make sure,glared across to the fallen master.
The third man had died for Grey Molly.
All this had happened in a second, and the body of Barry was stillrolling when a gun flashed in his hand, drawn while he tumbled. It spatfire, and Sliver Waldron staggered forward drunkenly, waved both hisarmed hands as if he were trying to talk by signal, and pitched on hisface into the dust.
The fourth man had died for Grey Molly.
No gun was destined for Gus Reeve, however. Black Bart had left thelifeless body of his victim and was darting towards the third man; themaster was on his knee, raising his gun for the last shot; but Gus Reevewas blind to all that had happened. He saw only the black stallion,the matchless prize of horseflesh. He tossed a loop in the taut ropeto entangle a bind foot, but that slackening of the line gave Satan hisinstant's purchase, and a moment later he was on his feet, whirled, andtwo iron-hard hoofs crushed the whole framework of the man's chest likean egg-shell. The impact lifted him from his feet, but before that bodystruck the ground the life was fled from it. The fifth man had died forGrey Molly.