CHAPTER XXXI
THE DEATH OF DU SANG
Whispering Smith, with his horse in a lather, rode slowly back twentyminutes later with Seagrue disarmed ahead of him. The desertedbattle-ground was alive with men. Stormy Gorman, hot for blood, hadcome back, captured Karg, and begun swearing all over again, and Smithlistened with amiable surprise while he explained that seeing Dancingkilled, and not being able to tell from Whispering Smith's peculiartactics which side he was shooting at, Gorman and his companions hadgone for help. While they angrily surrounded Karg and Seagrue, Smithslipped from his horse where Bill Dancing lay, lifted the huge headfrom the dust, and tried to turn the giant over. A groan greeted theattempt.
"Bill, open your eyes! Why would you not do as I wanted you to?" hemurmured bitterly to himself. A second groan answered him. Smithcalled for water, and from a canteen drenched the pallid forehead,talking softly meanwhile; but his efforts to restore consciousnesswere unavailing. He turned to where two of the cowboys had draggedKarg to the ground and three others had their old companion Seagrue inhand. While two held huge revolvers within six inches of his head, thethird was adjusting a rope-knot under his ear.
Whispering Smith became interested. "Hold on!" said he mildly, "whatis loose? What are you going to do?"
"We're going to hang these fellows," answered Stormy, with a volley ofhair-raising imprecations.
"Oh, no! Just put them on horses under guard."
"That's what we're going to do," exclaimed the foreman. "Only we'regoing to run 'em over to those cottonwoods and drive the horses outfrom under 'em. Stand still, you tow-headed cow-thief!" he cried,slipping the noose up tight on George Seagrue's neck.
"See here," returned Whispering Smith, showing some annoyance, "youmay be joking, but I am not. Either do as I tell you or release thosemen."
"Well, I guess we are not joking very much. You heard me, didn't you?"demanded Stormy angrily. "We are going to string these damned crittersup right here in the draw on the first tree."
Whispering Smith drew a pocket-knife and walked to Flat Nose, slit therope around his neck, pushed him out of the circle, and stood infront of him. "You can't play horse with my prisoners," he saidcurtly. "Get over here, Karg. Come, now, who is going to walk infirst? You act like a school-boy, Gorman."
Hard words and a wrangle followed, but Smith did not changeexpression, and there was a backdown. "Have you fellows let Du Sangget away while you were playing fool here?" he asked.
"Du Sang's over the hill there on his horse, and full of fight yet,"exclaimed one.
"Then we will look him up," suggested Smith. "Come, Seagrue."
"Don't go over there. He'll get you if you do," cried Gorman.
"Let us see about that. Seagrue, you and Karg walk ahead. Don't duckor run, either of you. Go on."
Just over the brow of the hill near which the fight had taken place, aman lay below a ledge of granite. The horse from which he had fallenwas grazing close by, but the man had dragged himself out of theblinding sun to the shade of the sagebrush above the rock--the trailof it all lay very plain on the hard ground. Watching him narrowly,Smith, with his prisoners ahead and the cowboys riding in a circlebehind, approached.
"Du Sang?"
The man in the sagebrush turned his head.
Smith walked to him and bent down. "Are you suffering much, Du Sang?"
The wounded man, sinking with shock and internal hemorrhage, uttered astring of oaths.
Smith listened quietly till he had done; then he knelt beside him andput his hand on Du Sang's hand. "Tell me where you are hit, Du Sang.Put your hand to it. Is it the stomach? Let me turn you on your side.Easy. Does your belt hurt? Just a minute, now; I can loosen that."
"I know you," muttered Du Sang thickly. Then his eyes--terrible,rolling, pink eyes--brightened and he swore violently.
"Du Sang, you are not bleeding much, but I'm afraid you are badlyhit," said Whispering Smith. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Get me some water."
A creek flowed at no great distance below the hill, but the cowboysrefused to go for water. Whispering Smith would have gone with Seagrueand Karg, but Du Sang begged him not to leave him alone lest Gormanshould kill him. Smith canvassed the situation a moment. "I'll put youon my horse," said he at length, "and take you down to the creek."
He turned to the cowboys and asked them to help, but they refused totouch Du Sang.
Whispering Smith kept his patience. "Karg, take that horse's head,"said he. "Come here, Seagrue; help me lift Du Sang on the horse. Theboys seem to be afraid of getting blood on their hands."
With Whispering Smith and Seagrue supporting Du Sang in the saddle andKarg leading the horse, the cavalcade moved slowly down to the creek,where a tiny stream purled among the rocks. The water revived theinjured man for a moment; he had even strength enough, with some help,to ride again; and, moving in the same halting order, they took him toRebstock's cabin. Rebstock, at the door, refused to let the sinkingman be brought into the house. He cursed Du Sang as the cause of allthe trouble. But Du Sang cursed him with usury, and, while WhisperingSmith listened, told Rebstock with bitter oaths that if he had giventhe boy Barney anything but a scrub horse they never would have beentrailed. More than this concerning the affair Du Sang would not say,and never said. The procession turned from the door. Seagrue led theway to Rebstock's stable, and they laid Du Sang on some hay.
Afterward they got a cot under him. With surprising vitality he talkeda long time to Whispering Smith, but at last fell into a stupor. Atnine o'clock that night he sat up. Ed Banks and Kennedy were standingbeside the cot. Du Sang became delirious, and in his delirium calledthe name of Whispering Smith; but Smith was at Baggs's cabin with BillDancing. In a spasm of pain, Du Sang, opening his eyes, suddenly threwhimself back. The cot broke, and the dying man rolled under the feetof the frightened horses. In the light of the lanterns they lifted himback, but he was bleeding slowly at the mouth, quite dead.
The surgeon, afterward, found two fatal wounds upon him. The firstshot, passing through the stomach, explained Du Sang's failure to killat a distance in which, uninjured, he could have placed five shotswithin the compass of a silver dollar. Firing for Whispering Smith'sheart, he had, despite the fearful shock, put four bullets through hiscoat before the rifle-ball from the ground, tearing at right anglesacross the path of the first bullet, had cut down his life to aquestion of hours.
Bill Dancing, who had been hit in the head and stunned, had been movedback to the cabin at Mission Spring, and lay in the little bedroom. Adoctor at Oroville had been sent for, but had not come. At midnight ofthe second day, Smith, who was beside his bed, saw him rouse up, andnoted the brightness of his eyes as he looked around. "Bill," hedeclared hopefully, as he sat beside the bed, "you are better, hangit! I know you are. How do you feel?"
"Ain't that blamed doctor here yet? Then give me my boots. I'm goingback to Medicine Bend to Doc Torpy."
In the morning Whispering Smith, who had cleansed and dressed thewound and felt sure the bullet had not penetrated the skull, offeredno objection to the proposal beyond cautioning him to ride slowly."You can go down part way with the prisoners, Bill," suggestedWhispering Smith. "Brill Young is going to take them to Oroville, andyou can act as chairman of the guard."
Before the party started, Smith called Seagrue to him. "George, yousaved my life once. Do you remember--in the Pan Handle? Well, I gaveyou yours twice in the Cache day before yesterday. I don't know howbadly you are into this thing. If you kept clear of the killing atTower W I will do what I can for you. Don't talk to anybody."