Raw Gold: A Novel

  CHAPTER XXII.

  SPEECHLESS HICKS.

  When I spoke of holding a council of war, I did so largely in afigurative sense. Literally, we set about reviving Hicks, with a view tolearning from him what had become of Lyn Rowan. He and Bevansundoubtedly knew, and as Bevans persisted in his defiant sullenness,refusing to open his mouth for other purpose than to curse usvigorously, we turned to Hicks. A liberal amount of water dashed in hisface aided him to recover consciousness, and in a short time he sat upand favored us with a scowl.

  "What has become of that girl you took away from Baker's freight-trainyesterday morning?" MacRae dispassionately questioned.

  Hicks glared at him by way of answer.

  "Hurry up and find your tongue," MacRae prompted.

  "I dunno what you're drivin' at," Hicks dissembled.

  "You will know, in short order," MacRae retorted, "if you harp on thattune. We've got you where we want you, and I rather think you'll be gladto talk, before long. I ask you what became of that girl between thetime you knifed Goodell and this morning?"

  Hicks started at mention of Goodell. His heavy face settled intostubborn lines. He blinked under MacRae's steady look. Of a sudden hesprang to his feet. I do not know what his intention may have been, buthe got little chance to carry out any desperate idea that took form inhis brain, for MacRae knocked him back on his haunches with a singleblow of his fist.

  "Answer me," he shouted, "or by the Lord! I'll make you think hell is apleasure-garden compared to this sand-bar."

  "Kick a few uh his ribs out uh place for a starter," Piegan coollyadvised. "That'll he'p him remember things."

  Yet for all their threats Hicks obstinately refused to admit that he hadever seen Lyn Rowan. What his object was in denying knowledge we knew hepossessed did not transpire till later. He knew the game was lost, sofar as he was concerned, and he was mustering his forces in a lasteffort to save himself. And MacRae's patience snapped like a frayedthread before many minutes of futile query.

  "Get me a rope off one of those pack-horses, Sarge," he snapped.

  I brought the rope; and I will brazenly admit that I should not havebalked at helping decorate the limb of a cottonwood with those twored-handed scoundrels. But I was not prepared for the turn MacRae took.Hicks evidently felt that there was something ominous to the fore, forhe fought like a fiend when we endeavored to apply the rope to his armsand legs. There was an almost superhuman desperation in his resistance,and while MacRae and I hammered and choked him into submission Piegangyrated about us with a gun in his left hand, begging us to let _him_put the finishing touches to Hicks. That, however, was the veryantithesis of MacRae's purpose.

  "I don't want to _kill_ him, Piegan," he said pointedly, when Hicks wassecurely tied. "If I had, do you suppose I'd dirty my hands on him inthat sort of a scramble when I know how to use a gun? I want him totalk--you understand?--and he _will_ talk before I'm through with him."

  There was a peculiar inflection about that last sentence, a world ofmeaning that was lost on me until I saw Mac go to the brush a few yardsdistant, return with an armful of dry willows and place them on the sandclose by Hicks. Without audible comment I watched him, but I waspuzzled--at first. He broke the dry sticks into fragments across hisknee; when he had a fair-sized pile he took out his knife and whittled afew shavings. Not till he snapped his knife shut and put it in hispocket and began, none too gently, to remove the boots from Hicks' feet,did I really comprehend what he was about. It sent a shiver through me,and even old Piegan stood aghast at the malevolent determination of theman. But we voiced no protest. That was neither the time nor place toabide by the Golden Rule. Only the law of force, ruthless, inexorable,would compel speech from Hicks. And since they would recognize noauthority save that of force, it seemed meet and just to deal with themas they had dealt with us. So Piegan Smith and I stood aloof and watchedthe grim play, for the fate of a woman hung in the balance. Hicks'salient jaw was set, his expression unreadable.

  MacRae stacked the dry wood in a neat pyramid twelve inches from thebare soles of Hicks' feet. He placed the shavings in the edge of thelittle pile. Then he stood up and began to talk, fingering a match withhorrible suggestiveness.

  "Perhaps you think that by keeping a close mouth there's a chance to getout of some of the deviltry you've had a hand in lately. But thereisn't. You'll get what's coming to you. And in case you're bolstering upyour nerve with false hopes in that direction, let me tell you that weknow exactly how you turned every trick. I don't particularly care totake the law into my own hands; I'd rather take you in and turn youover to the guard. But there's a woman to account for yet, and so youcan take your choice between the same deal you gave Hans Rutter andtelling me what became of her."

  He paused for a moment. Hicks stared up at him calculatingly.

  "I'll tell you all I know about it if you turn me loose," he said. "Giveme a horse and a chance to pull my freight, and I'll talk. Otherwise,I'm dumb."

  "I'll make no bargains with you," MacRae answered. "Talk or take theconsequences."

  Hicks shook his head. MacRae coughed--the smoke was still rolling inthick clouds from over the river--and went on.

  "Perhaps it will make my meaning clearer if I tell you what happened toRutter, eh? You and Gregory got him after he was wounded, didn't you? Hewouldn't tell where that stuff had been _cached_. But you had a way ofloosening a man's tongue--I have you to thank for the idea. Oh, it was agood one, but that old Dutchman was harder stuff than you're made of.You built a fire and warmed his feet. Still he wouldn't talk, so youwarmed them some more. Fine! But you didn't suppose you'd ever get_your_ feet warmed. I'm not asking much of you, and you'll be no deeperin the mire when you answer. If you don't--well, there's plenty of woodhere. Will you tell me what I want to know, or shall I light the fire?"

  Still no word from Hicks. MacRae bent and raked the match along a flatstone.

  "Oh, well," he said indifferently, "maybe you'll think better of it whenyour toes begin to sizzle."

  He thrust the flaring match among the shavings. As the flame crept inamong the broken willows, Hicks raised his head.

  "If I tell you what become of her, will you let me go?" he proposedagain. "I'll quit the country."

  "You'll tell me--or cook by inches, right here," Mac answereddeliberately. "You can't buy me off."

  The blaze flickered higher. I watched it, with every fiber of my beingrevolting against such savagery, and the need for it. I glanced atPiegan and Bevans. The one looked on with grim repression, the otherwith blanched face. And suddenly Hicks jerked up his knees and heavedhimself bodily aside with a scream of fear.

  "Put it out! Put it out!" he cried. "I'll tell you. For God'ssake--anything but the fire!"

  "Be quick, then," MacRae muttered, "before I move you back."

  "Last night," Hicks gasped, "when we pulled into the gorge to camp, shejerked the six-shooter out uh Lessard's belt and made a run for it. Shetook to the brush. It was dark, and we couldn't follow her. I don't knowwhere she got to, except that she started down the creek. We hunted forher half the night--didn't see nothin'. That's the truth, s'help me."

  "Down the creek--say, by the great Jehosophat!" Piegan exclaimed. "D'yuhremember that racket in the water this mornin'? Yuh wait." He turnedand ran down-stream. Almost instantly the smoke had swallowed him.

  MacRae stood staring for a second or two, then turned and scattered thefire broadcast on the sand with a movement of his foot. He lifted hishat, and I saw that his forehead and hair was damp with sweat.

  "That was a job I had mighty little stomach for," he said, catching myeye and smiling faintly. "I thought that sulky brute would come throughif I made a strong bluff. I reckon I'd have weakened in another minute,if he hadn't."

  "Ugh!" I shuddered. "It gave me the creeps. I wouldn't make a goodIndian."

  "Nor I," he agreed. "But I had to know. And I feel better now. I'm notafraid for Lyn, since I know she got away from _them_."

  Piegan, at this momen
t, set up a jubilant hallooing down the river, andshortly came rushing back to us.

  "Aha, I told yuh," he cried exultantly. "That was her crossed the riverthis mornin'. I found her track in the sand. One uh yuh stand guard,and the other feller come with me. We c'n trail her."

  "Go ahead," I told MacRae--a superfluous command, for I could not havekept him from going if I had tried.

  So I was left on the sand-bar with two dead thieves, and two who shouldhave been dead, and a little knot of horses for company. Hicks andBevans gave me little concern. I had helped tie both of them, and I knewthey would not soon get loose. But it was a weary wait. An hour fled. Ipaced the bar, a carbine in the crook of my arm and a vigilant eye forincipient outbreaks for freedom on the part of those two wolves. Thehorses stood about on three legs, heads drooping. The smoke-cloudsswayed and eddied, lifted a moment, and closed down again with thevarying spasms of the fire that was beating itself out on the farthershore. I sat me down and rested a while, arose and resumed my nervoustramping. The foglike haze began to thin. It became possible to breathewithout discomfort to the lungs; my eyes no longer stung and watered.And after a period in which I seemed to have walked a thousand miles onthat sandy point, I heard voices in the distance. Presently MacRae andPiegan Smith broke through the willow fringe on the higher ground--andwith them appeared a feminine figure that waved a hand to me.