CHAPTER XVII
THE PANTHER'S PAW
Evening came and still they had not sighted the outlaws. As dark fellthey drew near a house snuggled away among a group of cottonwoods.Here they determined to spend the night, for Calder's pony was nowalmost exhausted. A man of fifty came from the house in answer totheir call and showed them the way to the horse-shed. While theyunsaddled their horses he told them his name was Sam Daniels, yethe evinced no curiosity as to the identity of his guests, and theyvolunteered no information. His eyes lingered long and fondly over theexquisite lines of Satan. From behind, from the side, and in front, heviewed the stallion while Dan rubbed down the legs of his mount witha care which was most foreign to the ranges. Finally the cattlemanreached out a hand toward the smoothly muscled shoulders.
It was Calder who stood nearest and he managed to strike up Daniels'sextended arm and jerk him back from the region of danger.
"What'n hell is that for?" exclaimed Daniels.
"That horse is called Satan," said Calder, "and when any one save hisowner touches him he lives up to his name and raises hell."
Before Daniels could answer, the light of his lantern fell upon BlackBart, hitherto half hidden by the deepening shadows of the night,but standing now at the entrance of the shed. The cattleman's teethclicked together and he slapped his hand against his thigh in a reachfor the gun which was not there.
"Look behind you," he said to Calder. "A wolf!"
He made a grab for the marshal's gun, but the latter forestalled him.
"Go easy, partner," he said, grinning, "that's only the runningmate of the horse. He's not a wolf, at least not according to hisowner--and as for being wild--look at that!"
Bart had stalked calmly into the shed and now lay curled up exactlybeneath the feet of the stallion.
The two guests received a warmer welcome from Sam Daniels' wife whenthey reached the house. Their son, Buck, had been expected homefor supper, but it was too late for them to delay the meal longer.Accordingly they sat down at once and the dinner was nearly over whenBuck, having announced himself with a whoop as he rode up, entered,banging the door loudly behind him. He greeted the strangers with acareless wave of the hand and sat down at the table. His mother placedfood silently before him. No explanations of his tardiness were askedand none were offered. The attitude of his father indicated clearlythat the boy represented the earning power of the family. He was a bigfellow with broad, thick wrists, and a straight black eye. When he hadeaten, he broke into breezy conversation, and especially of a viciousmustang he had ridden on a bet the day before.
"Speakin' of hosses, Buck," said his father, "they's a black out inthe shed right now that'd make your eyes jest nacherally pop out'ntheir sockets. No more'n fifteen hands, but a reg'lar picture. Must begreased lightnin'."
"I've heard talk of these streaks of greased lightnin'," said Buck,with a touch of scorn, "but I'll stack old Mike agin the best ofthem."
"An' there's a dog along with the hoss--a dog that's the nearest to awolf of any I ever seen."
There was a sudden change in Buck--a change to be sensed rather thandefinitely noted with the eye. It was a stiffening of his body--analertness of which he was at pains to make no show. For almostimmediately he began to whistle softly, idly, his eyes rovingcarelessly across the wall while he tilted back in his chair. Dandropped his hand close to the butt of his gun. Instantly, the eyes ofBuck flashed down and centered on Dan for an instant of keen scrutiny.Certainly Buck had connected that mention of the black horse and thewolf-dog with a disturbing idea.
When they went to their room--a room in which there was no bed andthey had to roll down their blankets on the floor--Dan opened thewindow and commenced to whistle one of his own wild tunes. It seemedto Calder that there was a break in that music here and there, and afew notes grouped together like a call. In a moment a shadowy figureleaped through the window, and Black Bart landed on the floor withsoft padding feet.
Recovering from his start Calder cursed softly.
"What's the main idea?" he asked.
Dan made a signal for a lower tone.
"There ain't no idea," he answered, "but these Daniels people--do youknow anything about them?"
"No. Why?"
"They interest me, that's all."
"Anything wrong?"
"I guess not."
"Why did you whistle for this infernal wolf? It makes me nervous tohave him around. Get out, Bart."
The wolf turned a languid eye upon the marshal.
"Let him be," said Dan. "I don't feel no ways nacheral without havin'Bart around."
The marshal made no farther objections, and having rolled himself inhis blankets was almost immediately asleep and breathing heavily. Themoment Dan heard his companion draw breath with a telltale regularity,he sat up again in his blankets. Bart was instantly at his side. Hepatted the shaggy head lightly, and pointed towards the door.
"Guard!" he whispered.
Then he lay down and was immediately asleep. Bart crouched at his feetwith his head pointed directly at the door.
In other rooms there was the sound of the Daniels family going tobed--noises distinctly heard throughout the flimsy frame of the house.After that a deep silence fell which lasted many hours, but in thatdarkest moment which just precedes the dawn, a light creaking came upthe hall. It was very faint and it occurred only at long intervals,but at the first sound Black Bart raised his head from his paws andstared at the door with those glowing eyes which see in the dark.
Now another sound came, still soft, regular. There was a movement ofthe door. In the pitch dark a man could never have noticed it, but itwas plainly visible to the wolf. Still more visible, when the doorfinally stood wide, was the form of the man who stood in the opening.In one hand he carried a lantern thoroughly hooded, but not so wellwrapped that it kept back a single ray which flashed on a revolver.The intruder made a step forward, a step as light as the fall offeathers, but it was not half so stealthy as the movement of BlackBart as he slunk towards the door. He had been warned to watch thatdoor, but it did not need a warning to tell him that a danger wasapproaching the sleeping master. In the crouched form of the man, inthe cautious step, he recognized the unmistakable stalking of one whohunts. Another soft step the man made forward.
Then, with appalling suddenness, a blacker shadow shot up from thedeep night of the floor, and white teeth gleamed before the stranger'sface. He threw up his hand to save his throat. The teeth sank intohis arm--a driving weight hurled him against the wall and then tothe floor--the revolver and the lantern dropped clattering, and thelatter, rolling from its wrapping, flooded the room with light. Butneither man nor wolf uttered a sound.
Calder was standing, gun in hand, but too bewildered to act, whileDan, as if he were playing a part long rehearsed, stood covering thefallen form of Buck Daniels.
"Stand back from him, Bart!" he commanded.
The wolf slipped off a pace, whining with horrible eagerness, for hehad tasted blood. Far away a shout came from Sam Daniels. Dan loweredhis gun.
"Stand up," he ordered.
The big fellow picked himself up and stood against the wall with theblood streaming down his right arm. Still he said nothing and his keeneyes darted from Calder to Whistling Dan.
"Give me a strip of that old shirt over there, will you, Tex?" saidDan, "an' keep him covered while I tie up his arm."
Before Calder could move, old Daniels appeared at the door, a heavyColt in his hand. For a moment he stood dumbfounded, but then, with acry, jerked up his gun--a quick movement, but a fraction of a secondtoo slow, for the hand of Dan darted out and his knuckles struck thewrist of the old cattleman. The Colt rattled on the floor. He lungedafter his weapon, but the voice of Buck stopped him short.
"The game's up, Dad," he growled, "that older feller is Tex Calder."
The name, like a blow in the face, straightened old Daniels and lefthim white and blinking. Whistling Dan turned his back on the fatherand deftly bound up the lac
erated arm of Buck.
"In the name o' God, Buck," moaned Sam, "what you been tryin' to do inhere?"
"What you'd do if you had the guts for it. That's Tex Calder an' thisis Dan Barry. They're on the trail of big Jim. I wanted to put 'em offthat trail."
"Look here," said Calder, "how'd you know us?"
"I've said my little say," said Buck sullenly, "an' you'll get no moreout of me between here an' any hell you can take me to."
"He knew us when his father talked about Satan an' Black Bart," saidDan to Tex. "Maybe he's one of Silent's."
"Buck, for God's sake tell 'em you know nothin' of Silent," cried oldDaniels. "Boy, boy, it's hangin' for you if they get you to Elkheadan' charge you with that!"
"Dad, you're a fool," said Buck. "I ain't goin' down on my knees to'em. Not me."
Calder, still keeping Buck covered with his gun, drew Dan a little toone side.
"What can we do with this fellow, Dan?" he said. "Shall we give up thetrail and take him over to Elkhead?"
"An' break the heart of the ol' man?"
"Buck is one of the gang, that's certain."
"Get Silent an' there won't be no gang left."
"But we caught this chap in red blood--"
"He ain't very old, Tex. Maybe he could change. I think he ain't beenplayin' Silent's game any too long."
"We can't let him go. It isn't in reason to do that."
"I ain't thinkin' of reason. I'm thinkin' of old Sam an' his wife."
"And if we turn him loose?"
"He'll be your man till he dies."
Calder scowled.
"The whole range is filled with these silent partners of theoutlaws--but maybe you're right, Dan. Look at them now!"
The father was standing close to his son and pouring out a torrent ofappeal--evidently begging him in a low voice to disavow any knowledgeof Silent and his crew, but Buck shook his head sullenly. He had givenup hope. Calder approached them.
"Buck," he said, "I suppose you know that you could be hung for whatyou've tried to do tonight. If the law wouldn't hang you a lynchingparty would. No jail would be strong enough to keep them away fromyou."
Buck was silent, dogged.
"But suppose we were to let you go scot free?"
Buck started. A great flush covered his face.
"I'm taking the advice of Dan Barry in doing this," said Calder."Barry thinks you could go straight. Tell me man to man, if I give youthe chance will you break loose from Silent and his gang?"
A moment before, Buck had been steeled for the worst, but this suddenchange loosened all the bonds of his pride. He stammered and choked.Calder turned abruptly away.
"Dan," he said, "here's the dawn, and it's time for us to hit thetrail."
They rolled their blankets hastily and broke away from the gratitudewhich poured like water from the heart of old Sam. They were in theirsaddles when Buck came beside Dan. His pride, his shame, and hisgratitude broke his voice.
"I ain't much on words," he said, "but it's you I'm thankin'!"
His hand reached up hesitatingly, and Dan caught it in a firm grip.
"Why," he said gently, "even Satan here stumbles now an' then, butthat ain't no reason I should get rid of him. Good luck--partner!"
He shook the reins and the stallion leaped off after Calder's trottingpony. Buck Daniels stood motionless looking after them, and his eyeswere very dim.
For an hour Dan and Tex were on the road before the sun looked overthe hills. Calder halted his horse to watch.
"Dan," he said at last, "I used to think there were only two ways ofhandling men--one with the velvet touch and one with the touch ofsteel. Mine has been the way of steel, but I begin to see there's athird possibility--the touch of the panther's paw--the velvet with thesteel claws hid beneath. That's your way, and I wonder if it isn't thebest. I think Buck Daniels would be glad to die for you!"
He turned directly to Dan.
"But all this is aside from the point, which is that the whole countryis full of these silent partners of the outlaws. The law plays a lonehand in the mountain-desert."
"You've played the lone hand and won twenty times," said Dan.
"Ay, but the twenty-first time I may fail. The difference betweensuccess and failure in this country is just the length of time ittakes to pull a trigger--and Silent is fast with a gun. He's the rootof the outlaw power. We may kill a hundred men, but till he's gonewe've only mowed the weeds, not pulled them. But what's the use oftalking? One second will tell the tale when I stand face to face withJim Silent and we go for our six-guns. And somewhere between thatrising sun and those mountains I'll find Jim Silent and the end ofthings for one of us."
He started his cattle-pony into a sudden gallop, and they drove oninto the bright morning.