CHAPTER XXII
Again inaction and suspense dragged at Duane's spirit. Like a leashedhound with a keen scent in his face Duane wanted to leap forth when hewas bound. He almost fretted. Something called to him over the bold,wild brow of Mount Ord. But while Fletcher stayed in Ord waiting forKnell and Poggin, or for orders, Duane knew his game was again a waitingone.
But one day there were signs of the long quiet of Ord being broken. Amessenger strange to Duane rode in on a secret mission that had to dowith Fletcher. When he went away Fletcher became addicted to thoughtfulmoods and lonely walks. He seldom drank, and this in itself was astriking contrast to former behavior. The messenger came again. Whatevercommunication he brought, it had a remarkable effect upon the outlaw.Duane was present in the tavern when the fellow arrived, saw the fewwords whispered, but did not hear them. Fletcher turned white with angeror fear, perhaps both, and he cursed like a madman. The messenger,a lean, dark-faced, hard-riding fellow reminding Duane of the cowboyGuthrie, left the tavern without even a drink and rode away off to thewest. This west mystified and fascinated Duane as much as the southbeyond Mount Ord. Where were Knell and Poggin? Apparently they were notat present with the leader on the mountain. After the messenger leftFletcher grew silent and surly. He had presented a variety of moods toDuane's observation, and this latest one was provocative of thought.Fletcher was dangerous. It became clear now that the other outlawsof the camp feared him, kept out of his way. Duane let him alone, yetclosely watched him.
Perhaps an hour after the messenger had left, not longer, Fletchermanifestly arrived at some decision, and he called for his horse. Thenhe went to his shack and returned. To Duane the outlaw looked in shapeboth to ride and to fight. He gave orders for the men in camp to keepclose until he returned. Then he mounted.
"Come here, Dodge," he called.
Duane went up and laid a hand on the pommel of the saddle. Fletcherwalked his horse, with Duane beside him, till they reached the logbridge, when he halted.
"Dodge, I'm in bad with Knell," he said. "An' it 'pears I'm the causeof friction between Knell an' Poggy. Knell never had any use fer me, butPoggy's been square, if not friendly. The boss has a big deal on, an'here it's been held up because of this scrap. He's waitin' over there onthe mountain to give orders to Knell or Poggy, an' neither one'sshowin' up. I've got to stand in the breach, an' I ain't enjoyin' theprospects."
"What's the trouble about, Jim?" asked Duane.
"Reckon it's a little about you, Dodge," said Fletcher, dryly. "Knellhadn't any use fer you thet day. He ain't got no use fer a man onless hecan rule him. Some of the boys here hev blabbed before I edged in withmy say, an' there's hell to pay. Knell claims to know somethin' aboutyou that'll make both the boss an' Poggy sick when he springs it. Buthe's keepin' quiet. Hard man to figger, thet Knell. Reckon you'd bettergo back to Bradford fer a day or so, then camp out near here till I comeback."
"Why?"
"Wal, because there ain't any use fer you to git in bad, too."
"The gang will ride over here any day. If they're friendly, I'll light afire on the hill there, say three nights from to-night. If you don't seeit thet night you hit the trail. I'll do what I can. Jim Fletcher sticksto his pals. So long, Dodge."
Then he rode away.
He left Duane in a quandary. This news was black. Things had beenworking out so well. Here was a setback. At the moment Duane did notknow which way to turn, but certainly he had no idea of going back toBradford. Friction between the two great lieutenants of Cheseldine! Openhostility between one of them and another of the chief's right-handmen! Among outlaws that sort of thing was deadly serious. Generally suchmatters were settled with guns. Duane gathered encouragement even fromdisaster. Perhaps the disintegration of Cheseldine's great band hadalready begun. But what did Knell know? Duane did not circle aroundthe idea with doubts and hopes; if Knell knew anything it was that thisstranger in Ord, this new partner of Fletcher's, was no less than BuckDuane. Well, it was about time, thought Duane, that he made use of hisname if it were to help him at all. That name had been MacNelly's hope.He had anchored all his scheme to Duane's fame. Duane was tempted toride off after Fletcher and stay with him. This, however, would hardlybe fair to an outlaw who had been fair to him. Duane concluded to awaitdevelopments and when the gang rode in to Ord, probably from theirvarious hiding-places, he would be there ready to be denounced by Knell.Duane could not see any other culmination of this series of events thana meeting between Knell and himself. If that terminated fatally forKnell there was all probability of Duane's being in no worse situationthan he was now. If Poggin took up the quarrel! Here Duane accusedhimself again--tried in vain to revolt from a judgment that he was onlyreasoning out excuses to meet these outlaws.
Meanwhile, instead of waiting, why not hunt up Cheseldine in hismountain retreat? The thought no sooner struck Duane than he washurrying for his horse.
He left Ord, ostensibly toward Bradford, but, once out of sight, heturned off the road, circled through the brush, and several miles southof town he struck a narrow grass-grown trail that Fletcher had told himled to Cheseldine's camp. The horse tracks along this trail were notless than a week old, and very likely much more. It wound betweenlow, brush-covered foothills, through arroyos and gullies lined withmesquite, cottonwood, and scrub-oak.
In an hour Duane struck the slope of Mount Ord, and as he climbed hegot a view of the rolling, black-spotted country, partly desert, partlyfertile, with long, bright lines of dry stream-beds winding away to growdim in the distance. He got among broken rocks and cliffs, and here theopen, downward-rolling land disappeared, and he was hard put to it tofind the trail. He lost it repeatedly and made slow progress. Finallyhe climbed into a region of all rock benches, rough here, smooth there,with only an occasional scratch of iron horseshoe to guide him. Manytimes he had to go ahead and then work to right or left till he foundhis way again. It was slow work; it took all day; and night found himhalf-way up the mountain. He halted at a little side-canon with grassand water, and here he made camp. The night was clear and cool at thatheight, with a dark-blue sky and a streak of stars blinking across. Withthis day of action behind him he felt better satisfied than he had beenfor some time. Here, on this venture, he was answering to a call thathad so often directed his movements, perhaps his life, and it was onethat logic or intelligence could take little stock of. And on thisnight, lonely like the ones he used to spend in the Nueces gorge, andmemorable of them because of a likeness to that old hiding-place, hefelt the pressing return of old haunting things--the past so long ago,wild flights, dead faces--and the places of these were taken by onequiveringly alive, white, tragic, with its dark, intent, speakingeyes--Ray Longstreth's.
That last memory he yielded to until he slept.
In the morning, satisfied that he had left still fewer tracks thanhe had followed up this trail, he led his horse up to the head of thecanon, there a narrow crack in low cliffs, and with branches of cedarfenced him in. Then he went back and took up the trail on foot.
Without the horse he made better time and climbed through deep clefts,wide canons, over ridges, up shelving slopes, along precipices--a long,hard climb--till he reached what he concluded was a divide. Going downwas easier, though the farther he followed this dim and winding trailthe wider the broken battlements of rock. Above him he saw the blackfringe of pinon and pine, and above that the bold peak, bare, yellow,like a desert butte. Once, through a wide gateway between greatescarpments, he saw the lower country beyond the range, and beyond this,vast and clear as it lay in his sight, was the great river that made theBig Bend. He went down and down, wondering how a horse could follow thatbroken trail, believing there must be another better one somewhere intoCheseldine's hiding-place.
He rounded a jutting corner, where view had been shut off, and presentlycame out upon the rim of a high wall. Beneath, like a green gulf seenthrough blue haze, lay an amphitheater walled in on the two sides hecould see. It lay perhaps a thousand feet below him; and, plain a
s allthe other features of that wild environment, there shone out a big redstone or adobe cabin, white water shining away between great borders,and horses and cattle dotting the levels. It was a peaceful, beautifulscene. Duane could not help grinding his teeth at the thought ofrustlers living there in quiet and ease.
Duane worked half-way down to the level, and, well hidden in a niche,he settled himself to watch both trail and valley. He made note of theposition of the sun and saw that if anything developed or if he decidedto descend any farther there was small likelihood of his getting back tohis camp before dark. To try that after nightfall he imagined would bevain effort.
Then he bent his keen eyes downward. The cabin appeared to be a crudestructure. Though large in size, it had, of course, been built byoutlaws.
There was no garden, no cultivated field, no corral. Excepting for therude pile of stones and logs plastered together with mud, the valley wasas wild, probably, as on the day of discovery. Duane seemed to have beenwatching for a long time before he saw any sign of man, and this oneapparently went to the stream for water and returned to the cabin.
The sun went down behind the wall, and shadows were born in the darkerplaces of the valley. Duane began to want to get closer to that cabin.What had he taken this arduous climb for? He held back, however, tryingto evolve further plans.
While he was pondering the shadows quickly gathered and darkened. If hewas to go back to camp he must set out at once. Still he lingered. Andsuddenly his wide-roving eye caught sight of two horsemen riding up thevalley. The must have entered at a point below, round the huge abutmentof rock, beyond Duane's range of sight. Their horses were tired andstopped at the stream for a long drink.
Duane left his perch, took to the steep trail, and descended as fastas he could without making noise. It did not take him long to reach thevalley floor. It was almost level, with deep grass, and here and thereclumps of bushes. Twilight was already thick down there. Duane markedthe location of the trail, and then began to slip like a shadow throughthe grass and from bush to bush. He saw a bright light before hemade out the dark outline of the cabin. Then he heard voices, a merrywhistle, a coarse song, and the clink of iron cooking-utensils. Hesmelled fragrant wood-smoke. He saw moving dark figures cross the light.Evidently there was a wide door, or else the fire was out in the open.
Duane swerved to the left, out of direct line with the light, and thuswas able to see better. Then he advanced noiselessly but swiftly towardthe back of the house. There were trees close to the wall. He would makeno noise, and he could scarcely be seen--if only there was no watch-dog!But all his outlaw days he had taken risks with only his useless lifeat stake; now, with that changed, he advanced stealthy and bold as anIndian. He reached the cover of the trees, knew he was hidden in theirshadows, for at few paces' distance he had been able to see only theirtops. From there he slipped up to the house and felt along the wall withhis hands.
He came to a little window where light shone through. He peeped in. Hesaw a room shrouded in shadows, a lamp turned low, a table, chairs. Hesaw an open door, with bright flare beyond, but could not see thefire. Voices came indistinctly. Without hesitation Duane stole fartheralong--all the way to the end of the cabin. Peeping round, he saw onlythe flare of light on bare ground. Retracing his cautious steps, hepaused at the crack again, saw that no man was in the room, and thenhe went on round that end of the cabin. Fortune favored him. Therewere bushes, an old shed, a wood-pile, all the cover he needed at thatcorner. He did not even need to crawl.
Before he peered between the rough corner of wall and the bush growingclose to it Duane paused a moment. This excitement was different fromthat he had always felt when pursued. It had no bitterness, no pain, nodread. There was as much danger here, perhaps more, yet it was not thesame. Then he looked.
He saw a bright fire, a red-faced man bending over it, whistling, whilehe handled a steaming pot. Over him was a roofed shed built againstthe wall, with two open sides and two supporting posts. Duane's secondglance, not so blinded by the sudden bright light, made out other men,three in the shadow, two in the flare, but with backs to him.
"It's a smoother trail by long odds, but ain't so short as this oneright over the mountain," one outlaw was saying.
"What's eatin' you, Panhandle?" ejaculated another. "Blossom an' me rodefrom Faraway Springs, where Poggin is with some of the gang."
"Excuse me, Phil. Shore I didn't see you come in, an' Boldt never saidnothin'."
"It took you a long time to get here, but I guess that's just as well,"spoke up a smooth, suave voice with a ring in it.
Longstreth's voice--Cheseldine's voice!
Here they were--Cheseldine, Phil Knell, Blossom Kane, Panhandle Smith,Boldt--how well Duane remembered the names!--all here, the big men ofCheseldine's gang, except the biggest--Poggin. Duane had holed them, andhis sensations of the moment deadened sight and sound of what was beforehim. He sank down, controlled himself, silenced a mounting exultation,then from a less-strained position he peered forth again.
The outlaws were waiting for supper. Their conversation might have beenthat of cowboys in camp, ranchers at a roundup. Duane listened witheager ears, waiting for the business talk that he felt would come. Allthe time he watched with the eyes of a wolf upon its quarry. BlossomKane was the lean-limbed messenger who had so angered Fletcher. Boldtwas a giant in stature, dark, bearded, silent. Panhandle Smith was thered-faced cook, merry, profane, a short, bow-legged man resembling manyrustlers Duane had known, particularly Luke Stevens. And Knell, who satthere, tall, slim, like a boy in build, like a boy in years, withhis pale, smooth, expressionless face and his cold, gray eyes. AndLongstreth, who leaned against the wall, handsome, with his dark faceand beard like an aristocrat, resembled many a rich Louisiana planterDuane had met. The sixth man sat so much in the shadow that he could notbe plainly discerned, and, though addressed, his name was not mentioned.
Panhandle Smith carried pots and pans into the cabin, and cheerfullycalled out: "If you gents air hungry fer grub, don't look fer me to feedyou with a spoon."
The outlaws piled inside, made a great bustle and clatter as they sat totheir meal. Like hungry men, they talked little.
Duane waited there awhile, then guardedly got up and crept round tothe other side of the cabin. After he became used to the dark againhe ventured to steal along the wall to the window and peeped in. Theoutlaws were in the first room and could not be seen.
Duane waited. The moments dragged endlessly. His heart pounded.Longstreth entered, turned up the light, and, taking a box of cigarsfrom the table, he carried it out.
"Here, you fellows, go outside and smoke," he said. "Knell, come on innow. Let's get it over."
He returned, sat down, and lighted a cigar for himself. He put hisbooted feet on the table.
Duane saw that the room was comfortably, even luxuriously furnished.There must have been a good trail, he thought, else how could all thatstuff have been packed in there. Most assuredly it could not have comeover the trail he had traveled. Presently he heard the men go outside,and their voices became indistinct. Then Knell came in and seatedhimself without any of his chief's ease. He seemed preoccupied and, asalways, cold.
"What's wrong, Knell? Why didn't you get here sooner?" queriedLongstreth.
"Poggin, damn him! We're on the outs again."
"What for?"
"Aw, he needn't have got sore. He's breakin' a new hoss over at Faraway,an you know him where a hoss 's concerned. That kept him, I reckon, morethan anythin'."
"What else? Get it out of your system so we can go on to the new job."
"Well, it begins back a ways. I don't know how long ago--weeks--astranger rode into Ord an' got down easy-like as if he owned the place.He seemed familiar to me. But I wasn't sure. We looked him over, an' Ileft, tryin' to place him in my mind."
"What'd he look like?"
"Rangy, powerful man, white hair over his temples, still, hard face,eyes like knives. The way he packed his guns, the way he walked an'st
ood an' swung his right hand showed me what he was. You can't fool meon the gun-sharp. An' he had a grand horse, a big black."
"I've met your man," said Longstreth.
"No!" exclaimed Knell. It was wonderful to hear surprise expressed bythis man that did not in the least show it in his strange physiognomy.Knell laughed a short, grim, hollow laugh. "Boss, this here big gentdrifts into Ord again an' makes up to Jim Fletcher. Jim, you know, iseasy led. He likes men. An' when a posse come along trailin' a blindlead, huntin' the wrong way for the man who held up No. 6, why, Jim--heup an' takes this stranger to be the fly road-agent an' cottons to him.Got money out of him sure. An' that's what stumps me more. What's thisman's game? I happen to know, boss, that he couldn't have held up No.6."
"How do you know?" demanded Longstreth.
"Because I did the job myself."
A dark and stormy passion clouded the chief's face.
"Damn you, Knell! You're incorrigible. You're unreliable. Another breaklike that queers you with me. Did you tell Poggin?"
"Yes. That's one reason we fell out. He raved. I thought he was goin' tokill me."
"Why did you tackle such a risky job without help or plan?"
"It offered, that's all. An' it was easy. But it was a mistake. I gotthe country an' the railroad hollerin' for nothin'. I just couldn't helpit. You know what idleness means to one of us. You know also that thisvery life breeds fatality. It's wrong--that's why. I was born of goodparents, an' I know what's right. We're wrong, an' we can't beat theend, that's all. An' for my part I don't care a damn when that comes."
"Fine wise talk from you, Knell," said Longstreth, scornfully. "Go onwith your story."
"As I said, Jim cottons to the pretender, an' they get chummy. They'retogether all the time. You can gamble Jim told all he knew an' thensome. A little liquor loosens his tongue. Several of the boys rode overfrom Ord, an' one of them went to Poggin an' says Jim Fletcher has a newman for the gang. Poggin, you know, is always ready for any new man.He says if one doesn't turn out good he can be shut off easy. He ratherliked the way this new part of Jim's was boosted. Jim an' Poggin alwayshit it up together. So until I got on the deal Jim's pard was already inthe gang, without Poggin or you ever seein' him. Then I got to figurin'hard. Just where had I ever seen that chap? As it turned out, I neverhad seen him, which accounts for my bein' doubtful. I'd never forgetany man I'd seen. I dug up a lot of old papers from my kit an' went overthem. Letters, pictures, clippin's, an' all that. I guess I had a prettygood notion what I was lookin' for an' who I wanted to make sure of. Atlast I found it. An' I knew my man. But I didn't spring it on Poggin.Oh no! I want to have some fun with him when the time comes. He'll bewilder than a trapped wolf. I sent Blossom over to Ord to get word fromJim, an' when he verified all this talk I sent Blossom again with amessage calculated to make Jim hump. Poggin got sore, said he'd wait forJim, an' I could come over here to see you about the new job. He'd meetme in Ord."
Knell had spoken hurriedly and low, now and then with passion. His paleeyes glinted like fire in ice, and now his voice fell to a whisper.
"Who do you think Fletcher's new man is?"
"Who?" demanded Longstreth.
"BUCK DUANE!"
Down came Longstreth's boots with a crash, then his body grew rigid.
"That Nueces outlaw? That two-shot ace-of-spades gun-thrower who killedBland, Alloway--?"
"An' Hardin." Knell whispered this last name with more feeling than theapparent circumstance demanded.
"Yes; and Hardin, the best one of the Rim Rock fellows--Buck Duane!"
Longstreth was so ghastly white now that his black mustache seemedoutlined against chalk. He eyed his grim lieutenant. They understoodeach other without more words. It was enough that Buck Duane was therein the Big Bend. Longstreth rose presently and reached for a flask, fromwhich he drank, then offered it to Knell. He waved it aside.
"Knell," began the chief, slowly, as he wiped his lips, "I gathered youhave some grudge against this Buck Duane."
"Yes."
"Well, don't be a fool now and do what Poggin or almost any of you menwould--don't meet this Buck Duane. I've reason to believe he's a TexasRanger now."
"The hell you say!" exclaimed Knell.
"Yes. Go to Ord and give Jim Fletcher a hunch. He'll get Poggin, andthey'll fix even Buck Duane."
"All right. I'll do my best. But if I run into Duane--"
"Don't run into him!" Longstreth's voice fairly rang with the force ofits passion and command. He wiped his face, drank again from the flask,sat down, resumed his smoking, and, drawing a paper from his vest pockethe began to study it.
"Well, I'm glad that's settled," he said, evidently referring to theDuane matter. "Now for the new job. This is October the eighteenth. Onor before the twenty-fifth there will be a shipment of gold reach theRancher's Bank of Val Verde. After you return to Ord give Poggin theseorders. Keep the gang quiet. You, Poggin, Kane, Fletcher, PanhandleSmith, and Boldt to be in on the secret and the job. Nobody else. You'llleave Ord on the twenty-third, ride across country by the trail till youget within sight of Mercer. It's a hundred miles from Bradford to ValVerde--about the same from Ord. Time your travel to get you near ValVerde on the morning of the twenty-sixth. You won't have to more thantrot your horses. At two o'clock in the afternoon, sharp, ride into townand up to the Rancher's Bank. Val Verde's a pretty big town. Never beenany holdups there. Town feels safe. Make it a clean, fast, daylight job.That's all. Have you got the details?"
Knell did not even ask for the dates again.
"Suppose Poggin or me might be detained?" he asked.
Longstreth bent a dark glance upon his lieutenant.
"You never can tell what'll come off," continued Knell. "I'll do mybest."
"The minute you see Poggin tell him. A job on hand steadies him. And Isay again--look to it that nothing happens. Either you or Poggin carrythe job through. But I want both of you in it. Break for the hills, andwhen you get up in the rocks where you can hide your tracks head forMount Ord. When all's quiet again I'll join you here. That's all. Callin the boys."
Like a swift shadow and as noiseless Duane stole across the level towardthe dark wall of rock. Every nerve was a strung wire. For a little whilehis mind was cluttered and clogged with whirling thoughts, from which,like a flashing scroll, unrolled the long, baffling order of action. Thegame was now in his hands. He must cross Mount Ord at night. The featwas improbable, but it might be done. He must ride into Bradford, fortymiles from the foothills before eight o'clock next morning. He musttelegraph MacNelly to be in Val Verde on the twenty-fifth. He must rideback to Ord, to intercept Knell, face him be denounced, kill him, andwhile the iron was hot strike hard to win Poggin's half-won interest ashe had wholly won Fletcher's. Failing that last, he must let the outlawsalone to bide their time in Ord, to be free to ride on to their new jobin Val Verde. In the mean time he must plan to arrest Longstreth. Itwas a magnificent outline, incredible, alluring, unfathomable inits nameless certainty. He felt like fate. He seemed to be the ironconsequences falling upon these doomed outlaws.
Under the wall the shadows were black, only the tips of trees and cragsshowing, yet he went straight to the trail. It was merely a graynessbetween borders of black. He climbed and never stopped. It did notseem steep. His feet might have had eyes. He surmounted the wall, and,looking down into the ebony gulf pierced by one point of light, helifted a menacing arm and shook it. Then he strode on and did not faltertill he reached the huge shelving cliffs. Here he lost the trail; therewas none; but he remembered the shapes, the points, the notches of rockabove. Before he reached the ruins of splintered ramparts and jumbles ofbroken walls the moon topped the eastern slope of the mountain, and themystifying blackness he had dreaded changed to magic silver light.It seemed as light as day, only soft, mellow, and the air held atransparent sheen. He ran up the bare ridges and down the smooth slopes,and, like a goat, jumped from rock to rock. In this light he knew hisway and lost no time looking for a trail. He
crossed the divide and thenhad all downhill before him. Swiftly he descended, almost always sure ofhis memory of the landmarks. He did not remember having studied them inthe ascent, yet here they were, even in changed light, familiar to hissight. What he had once seen was pictured on his mind. And, true asa deer striking for home, he reached the canon where he had left hishorse.
Bullet was quickly and easily found. Duane threw on the saddle and pack,cinched them tight, and resumed his descent. The worst was now to come.Bare downward steps in rock, sliding, weathered slopes, narrow blackgullies, a thousand openings in a maze of broken stone--these Duane hadto descend in fast time, leading a giant of a horse. Bullet cracked theloose fragments, sent them rolling, slid on the scaly slopes, plungeddown the steps, followed like a faithful dog at Duane's heels.
Hours passed as moments. Duane was equal to his great opportunity. Buthe could not quell that self in him which reached back over the lapseof lonely, searing years and found the boy in him. He who had been worsethan dead was now grasping at the skirts of life--which meant victory,honor, happiness. Duane knew he was not just right in part of his mind.Small wonder that he was not insane, he thought! He tramped on downward,his marvelous faculty for covering rough ground and holding to the truecourse never before even in flight so keen and acute. Yet all the timea spirit was keeping step with him. Thought of Ray Longstreth as he hadleft her made him weak. But now, with the game clear to its end, withthe trap to spring, with success strangely haunting him, Duane could notdispel memory of her. He saw her white face, with its sweet sad lips andthe dark eyes so tender and tragic. And time and distance and risk andtoil were nothing.
The moon sloped to the west. Shadows of trees and crags now crossed tothe other side of him. The stars dimmed. Then he was out of the rocks,with the dim trail pale at his feet. Mounting Bullet, he made short workof the long slope and the foothills and the rolling land leading downto Ord. The little outlaw camp, with its shacks and cabins and row ofhouses, lay silent and dark under the paling moon. Duane passed by onthe lower trail, headed into the road, and put Bullet to a gallop. Hewatched the dying moon, the waning stars, and the east. He had timeto spare, so he saved the horse. Knell would be leaving the rendezvousabout the time Duane turned back toward Ord. Between noon and sunsetthey would meet.
The night wore on. The moon sank behind low mountains in the west.The stars brightened for a while, then faded. Gray gloom enveloped theworld, thickened, lay like smoke over the road. Then shade by shade itlightened, until through the transparent obscurity shone a dim light.
Duane reached Bradford before dawn. He dismounted some distance from thetracks, tied his horse, and then crossed over to the station. He heardthe clicking of the telegraph instrument, and it thrilled him. Anoperator sat inside reading. When Duane tapped on the window he lookedup with startled glance, then went swiftly to unlock the door.
"Hello. Give me paper and pencil. Quick," whispered Duane.
With trembling hands the operator complied. Duane wrote out the messagehe had carefully composed.
"Send this--repeat it to make sure--then keep mum. I'll see you again.Good-by."
The operator stared, but did not speak a word.
Duane left as stealthily and swiftly as he had come. He walked his horsea couple miles back on the road and then rested him till break of day.The east began to redden, Duane turned grimly in the direction of Ord.
When Duane swung into the wide, grassy square on the outskirts of Ordhe saw a bunch of saddled horses hitched in front of the tavern. He knewwhat that meant. Luck still favored him. If it would only hold! But hecould ask no more. The rest was a matter of how greatly he could makehis power felt. An open conflict against odds lay in the balance. Thatwould be fatal to him, and to avoid it he had to trust to his name and apresence he must make terrible. He knew outlaws. He knew what qualitiesheld them. He knew what to exaggerate.
There was not an outlaw in sight. The dusty horses had covered distancethat morning. As Duane dismounted he heard loud, angry voices inside thetavern. He removed coat and vest, hung them over the pommel. He packedtwo guns, one belted high on the left hip, the other swinging low on theright side. He neither looked nor listened, but boldly pushed the doorand stepped inside.
The big room was full of men, and every face pivoted toward him. Knell'spale face flashed into Duane's swift sight; then Boldt's, then BlossomKane's, then Panhandle Smith's, then Fletcher's, then others that werefamiliar, and last that of Poggin. Though Duane had never seen Poggin orheard him described, he knew him. For he saw a face that was a record ofgreat and evil deeds.
There was absolute silence. The outlaws were lined back of a long tableupon which were papers, stacks of silver coin, a bundle of bills, and ahuge gold-mounted gun.
"Are you gents lookin' for me?" asked Duane. He gave his voice all theringing force and power of which he was capable. And he stepped back,free of anything, with the outlaws all before him.
Knell stood quivering, but his face might have been a mask. The otheroutlaws looked from him to Duane. Jim Fletcher flung up his hands.
"My Gawd, Dodge, what'd you bust in here fer?" he said, plaintively, andslowly stepped forward. His action was that of a man true to himself. Hemeant he had been sponsor for Duane and now he would stand by him.
"Back, Fletcher!" called Duane, and his voice made the outlaw jump.
"Hold on, Dodge, an' you-all, everybody," said Fletcher. "Let me talk,seein' I'm in wrong here."
His persuasions did not ease the strain.
"Go ahead. Talk," said Poggin.
Fletcher turned to Duane. "Pard, I'm takin' it on myself thet you meetenemies here when I swore you'd meet friends. It's my fault. I'll standby you if you let me."
"No, Jim," replied Duane.
"But what'd you come fer without the signal?" burst out Fletcher, indistress. He saw nothing but catastrophe in this meeting.
"Jim, I ain't pressin' my company none. But when I'm wanted bad--"
Fletcher stopped him with a raised hand. Then he turned to Poggin with arude dignity.
"Poggy, he's my pard, an' he's riled. I never told him a word thet'dmake him sore. I only said Knell hadn't no more use fer him than ferme. Now, what you say goes in this gang. I never failed you in my life.Here's my pard. I vouch fer him. Will you stand fer me? There's goin' tobe hell if you don't. An' us with a big job on hand!"
While Fletcher toiled over his slow, earnest persuasion Duane had hisgaze riveted upon Poggin. There was something leonine about Poggin. Hewas tawny. He blazed. He seemed beautiful as fire was beautiful. Butlooked at closer, with glance seeing the physical man, instead of thatthing which shone from him, he was of perfect build, with muscles thatswelled and rippled, bulging his clothes, with the magnificent head andface of the cruel, fierce, tawny-eyed jaguar.
Looking at this strange Poggin, instinctively divining his abnormaland hideous power, Duane had for the first time in his life the inwardquaking fear of a man. It was like a cold-tongued bell ringing withinhim and numbing his heart. The old instinctive firing of blood followed,but did not drive away that fear. He knew. He felt something here deeperthan thought could go. And he hated Poggin.
That individual had been considering Fletcher's appeal.
"Jim, I ante up," he said, "an' if Phil doesn't raise us out with a bighand--why, he'll get called, an' your pard can set in the game."
Every eye shifted to Knell. He was dead white. He laughed, and any onehearing that laugh would have realized his intense anger equally with anassurance which made him master of the situation.
"Poggin, you're a gambler, you are--the ace-high, straight-flush hand ofthe Big Bend," he said, with stinging scorn. "I'll bet you my roll to agreaser peso that I can deal you a hand you'll be afraid to play."
"Phil, you're talkin' wild," growled Poggin, with both advice and menacein his tone.
"If there's anythin' you hate it's a man who pretends to be somebodyelse when he's not. Thet so?"
Poggin nodded in slow-gath
ering wrath.
"Well, Jim's new pard--this man Dodge--he's not who he seems. Oh-ho!He's a hell of a lot different. But _I_ know him. An' when I springhis name on you, Poggin, you'll freeze to your gizzard. Do you getme? You'll freeze, an' your hand'll be stiff when it ought to belightnin'--All because you'll realize you've been standin' there fiveminutes--five minutes ALIVE before him!"
If not hate, then assuredly great passion toward Poggin manifesteditself in Knell's scornful, fiery address, in the shaking hand he thrustbefore Poggin's face. In the ensuing silent pause Knell's panting couldbe plainly heard. The other men were pale, watchful, cautiously edgingeither way to the wall, leaving the principals and Duane in the centerof the room.
"Spring his name, then, you--" said Poggin, violently, with a curse.
Strangely Knell did not even look at the man he was about to denounce.He leaned toward Poggin, his hands, his body, his long head all somewhatexpressive of what his face disguised.
"BUCK DUANE!" he yelled, suddenly.
The name did not make any great difference in Poggin. But Knell'spassionate, swift utterance carried the suggestion that the name oughtto bring Poggin to quick action. It was possible, too, that Knell'smanner, the import of his denunciation the meaning back of all hispassion held Poggin bound more than the surprise. For the outlawcertainly was surprised, perhaps staggered at the idea that he, Poggin,had been about to stand sponsor with Fletcher for a famous outlaw hatedand feared by all outlaws.
Knell waited a long moment, and then his face broke its cold immobilityin an extraordinary expression of devilish glee. He had hounded thegreat Poggin into something that gave him vicious, monstrous joy.
"BUCK DUANE! Yes," he broke out, hotly. "The Nueces gunman! Thattwo-shot, ace-of-spades lone wolf! You an' I--we've heard a thousandtimes of him--talked about him often. An' here he IN FRONT of you!Poggin, you were backin' Fletcher's new pard, Buck Duane. An' he'dfooled you both but for me. But _I_ know him. An' I know why he driftedin here. To flash a gun on Cheseldine--on you--on me! Bah! Don't tell mehe wanted to join the gang. You know a gunman, for you're one yourself.Don't you always want to kill another man? An' don't you always want tomeet a real man, not a four-flush? It's the madness of the gunman, an' Iknow it. Well, Duane faced you--called you! An' when I sprung his name,what ought you have done? What would the boss--anybody--have expected ofPoggin? Did you throw your gun, swift, like you have so often? Naw; youfroze. An' why? Because here's a man with the kind of nerve you'd loveto have. Because he's great--meetin' us here alone. Because you knowhe's a wonder with a gun an' you love life. Because you an' I an' everydamned man here had to take his front, each to himself. If we all drewwe'd kill him. Sure! But who's goin' to lead? Who was goin' to be first?Who was goin' to make him draw? Not you, Poggin! You leave that for alesser man--me--who've lived to see you a coward. It comes once to everygunman. You've met your match in Buck Duane. An', by God, I'm glad!Here's once I show you up!"
The hoarse, taunting voice failed. Knell stepped back from the comradehe hated. He was wet, shaking, haggard, but magnificent.
"Buck Duane, do you remember Hardin?" he asked, in scarcely audiblevoice.
"Yes," replied Duane, and a flash of insight made clear Knell'sattitude.
"You met him--forced him to draw--killed him?"
"Yes."
"Hardin was the best pard I ever had."
His teeth clicked together tight, and his lips set in a thin line.
The room grew still. Even breathing ceased. The time for wordshad passed. In that long moment of suspense Knell's body graduallystiffened, and at last the quivering ceased. He crouched. His eyes had asoul-piercing fire.
Duane watched them. He waited. He caught the thought--the breaking ofKnell's muscle-bound rigidity. Then he drew.
Through the smoke of his gun he saw two red spurts of flame. Knell'sbullets thudded into the ceiling. He fell with a scream like a wildthing in agony.
Duane did not see Knell die. He watched Poggin. And Poggin, like astricken and astounded man, looked down upon his prostrate comrade.
Fletcher ran at Duane with hands aloft.
"Hit the trail, you liar, or you'll hev to kill me!" he yelled.
With hands still up, he shouldered and bodied Duane out of the room.
Duane leaped on his horse, spurred, and plunged away.