CHAPTER IV
THE VERGE OF CONFESSION
Murphy uttered one sputtering cry of surprise, flinging his handinstinctively to his hip, but attempted no more. Hampton's readyweapon was thrusting its muzzle into the astounded face, and the grayeyes gleaming along the polished barrel held the fellow motionless.
"Hands up! Not a move, Murphy! I have the drop!" The voice was low,but stern, and the old frontiersman obeyed mechanically, although hisseamed face was fairly distorted with rage.
"You! Damn you!--I thought I knew--the voice."
"Yes, I am here all right. Rather odd place for us to meet, isn't it?But, you see, you've had the advantage all these years; you knew whomyou were running away from, while I was compelled to plod along in thedark. But I 've caught up just the same, if it has been a long race."
"What do ye--want me fer?" The look in the face was cunning.
"Hold your hands quiet--higher, you fool! That's it. Now, don't playwith me. I honestly didn 't know for certain I did want you, Murphy,when I first started out on this trip. I merely suspected that Imight, from some things I had been told. When somebody took theliberty of slashing at my back in a poker-room at Glencaid, and drovethe knife into Slavin by mistake, I chanced to catch a glimpse of thehand on the hilt, and there was a scar on it. About fifteen yearsbefore, I was acting as officer of the guard one night at Bethune. Itwas a bright starlit night, you remember, and just as I turned thecorner of the old powder-house there came a sudden flash, a report, asharp cry. I sprang forward only to fall headlong over a dead body;but in that flash I had seen the hand grasping the revolver, and therewas a scar on the back of it, a very peculiar scar. It chanced I hadthe evening previous slightly quarrelled with the officer who waskilled; I was the only person known to be near at the time he was shot;certain other circumstantial evidence was dug up, while Slavin and oneother--no, it was not you--gave some damaging, manufactured testimonyagainst me. As a result I was held guilty of murder in the seconddegree, dismissed the army in disgrace, and sentenced to ten years'imprisonment. So, you see, it was not exactly you I have been hunting,Murphy,--it was a scar."
Murphy's face was distorted into a hideous grin. "I notice you bearexactly that kind of a scar, my man, and you spoke last night as if youhad some recollection of the case."
The mocking grin expanded; into the husky voice crept a snarl ofdefiance, for now Murphy's courage had come back--he was fronting fleshand blood. "Oh, stop preachin'--an' shoot--an' be damned ter ye!"
"You do me a grave injustice, Murphy. In the first place, I do notpossess the nature of an Indian, and am not out for revenge. Yourslashing at me down in Glencaid has n't left so much as a sting behind.It's completely blotted out, forgotten. I haven't the slightest desireto kill you, man; but I do want to clear my name of the stain of thatcrime. I want you to tell the whole truth about that night's work atBethune; and when you have done so, you can go. I 'll never lay afinger on you; you can go where you please."
"Bah!--ye ain't got no proof--agin me--'sides, the case is closed--itcan't be opened agin--by law."
"You devil! I 'd be perfectly justified in killing you," exclaimedHampton, savagely.
Murphy stared at him stupidly, the cunning of incipient insanity in hiseyes. "En' whar--do ye expect--me ter say--all this, pervidin', ofcourse--I wus fule 'nough--ter do it?"
"Up yonder before Custer and the officers of the Seventh, when we getin."
"They'd nab me--likely."
"Now, see here, you say it is impossible for them to touch you, becausethe case is closed legally. Now, you do not care very much for theopinion of others, while from every other standpoint you feel perfectlysafe. But I 've had to suffer for your crime, Murphy, suffer forfifteen years, ten of them behind stone walls; and there are others whohave suffered with me. It has cost me love, home, all that a man holdsdear. I 've borne this punishment for you, paid the penalty of youract to the full satisfaction of the law. The very least you can do inordinary decency is to speak the truth now. It will not hurt you, butit will lift me out of hell."
Murphy's eyes were cunning, treacherously shifting under the thatch ofhis heavy brows; he was like an old rat seeking for any hole of refuge."Well--maybe I might. Anyhow, I'll go on--with ye. Kin I sit up? I'm dog tired--lyin' yere."
"Unbuckle your belt, and throw that over first."
"I'm damned--if I will. Not--in no Injun--country."
"I know it's tough," retorted Hampton, with exasperating coolness, hisrevolver's muzzle held steady; "but, just the same, it's got to bedone. I know you far too well to take chances on your gun. Sounlimber."
"Oh, I--guess not," and Murphy spat contemptuously. "Do ye think--I 'mafeard o' yer--shootin'? Ye don't dare--fer I 'm no good ter ye--dead."
"You are perfectly right. You are quite a philosopher in your way.You would be no good to me dead, Murphy, but you might prove fully asvaluable maimed. Now I 'm playing this game to the limit, and thatlimit is just about reached. You unlimber before I count ten, youmurderer, or I 'll spoil both your hands!"
The mocking, sardonic grin deserted Murphy's features. It was sullenobstinacy, not doubt of the other's purpose, that paralyzed him.
"Unlimber! It's the last call."
With a snarl the scout unclasped his army belt, dropped it to theground, and sullenly kicked it over toward Hampton. "Now--now--you,you gray-eyed--devil, kin I--sit up?"
The other nodded. He had drawn the fangs of the wolf, and now that heno longer feared, a sudden, unexplainable feeling of sympathy tookpossession of him. Yet he drew farther away before slipping his owngun into its sheath. For a time neither spoke, their eyes peeringacross the ridge. Murphy sputtered and swore, but his victoriouscompanion neither spoke nor moved. There were several distant smokesout to the northward now, evidently the answering signals of differentbands of savages, while far away, beneath the shadow of the low bluffsbordering the stream, numerous black, moving dots began to show againstthe light brown background. Hampton, noticing that Murphy had stoppedswearing to gaze, swung forward his field-glasses for a better view.
"They are Indians, right enough," he said, at last. "Here, take alook, Murphy. I could count about twenty in that bunch, and they aretravelling north."
The older man adjusted the tubes to his eyes, and looked long andsteadily at the party. Then he slowly swung the glasses toward thenorthwest, apparently studying the country inch by inch, his jawsworking spasmodically, his unoccupied hand clutching nervously at thegrass.
"They seem--to be a-closin' in," he declared, finally, staring aroundinto the other's face, all bravado gone. "There's anuther lot--bucks,all o' 'em--out west yonder--an' over east a smudge is--just startin'.Looks like--we wus in a pocket--an' thar' might be some--har-raisin'fore long."
"Well, Murphy, you are the older hand at this business. What do youadvise doing?"
"Me? Why, push right 'long--while we kin keep under cover.Then--after dark--trust ter bull luck an' make--'nuther dash. It'smostly luck, anyhow. Thet canyon just ahead--looks like it leads along way--toward the Powder. Its middling deep down, an' if thereain't Injuns in it--them fellers out yonder--never cud git no sight atus. Thet's my notion--thet ivery mile helps in this--business."
"You mean we should start now?"
"Better--let the cattle rest--first. An'--if ye ever feed prisoners--I'd like ter eat a bite--mesilf."
They rested there for over two hours, the tired horses contentedlymunching the succulent grass of the _coulee_, their two mastersscarcely exchanging a word. Murphy, after satisfying his appetite,rested flat upon his back, one arm flung over his eyes to protect themfrom the sun. For a considerable time Hampton supposed him asleep,until he accidentally caught the stealthy glance which followed hisslightest movement, and instantly realized that the old weasel wasalert. Murphy had been beaten, yet evidently remained unconquered,biding his chance with savage stoicism, and the other watched himwarily even while seeming to oc
cupy himself with the field-glass.
At last they saddled up, and, at first leading their horses, passeddown the _coulee_ into the more precipitous depths of the narrowcanyon. This proved hardly more than a gash cut through the rollingprairie, rock strewn, holding an insignificant stream of brackishwater, yet was an ideal hiding-place, having ample room for easypassage between the rock walls. The men mounted, and Hampton, with awave of his hand, bade the old scout assume the lead.
Their early advance was slow and cautious, as they never felt certainwhat hidden enemies might lurk behind the sharp corners of the windingdefile, and they kept vigilant eyes upon the serrated sky-line. Thesavages were moving north, and so were they. It would be remarkablygood fortune if they escaped running into some wandering band, or ifsome stray scout did not stumble upon their trail. So they continuedto plod on.
It was fully three o'clock when they attained to the bank of thePowder, and crouched among the rocks to wait for the shades of night toshroud their further advance. Murphy climbed the bluff for a widerview, bearing Hampton's field-glasses slung across his shoulder, forthe latter would not leave him alone with the horses. He returnedfinally to grunt out that there was nothing special in sight, except ashifting of those smoke signals to points farther north. Then they laydown again, Hampton smoking, Murphy either sleeping or pretending tosleep. And slowly the shadows of another black night swept down andshut them in.
It must have been two hours later when they ventured forth. Silenceand loneliness brooded everywhere, not so much as a breath of airstirring the leaves. The unspeakable, unsolvable mystery of it allrested like a weight on the spirits of both men. It, was a disquietingthought that bands of savages, eager to discover and slay, werestealing among the shadows of those trackless plains, and that theymust literally feel their uncertain way through the cordon, every soundan alarm, every advancing step a fresh peril. They crossed the swift,deep stream, and emerged dripping, chilled to the marrow by the icywater. Then they swung stiffly into the wet saddles, and plunged, withalmost reckless abandon, through the darkness. Murphy continued tolead, the light tread of his horse barely audible, Hampton pressingclosely behind, revolver in hand, the two pack-horses trailing in therear. Hampton had no confidence in his sullen, treacherous companion;he looked for early trouble, yet he had little fear regarding anyattempt at escape now. Murphy was a plainsman, and would realize thehorror of being alone, unarmed, and without food on those demon-hauntedprairies. Besides, the silent man behind was astride the better animal.
Midnight, and they pulled up amid the deeper gloom of a great,overhanging bluff, having numerous trees near its summit. There wasthe glow of a distant fire upon their left, which reddened the sky, andreflected oddly on the edges of a vast cloud-mass rolling upthreateningly from the west. Neither knew definitely where they were,although Murphy guessed the narrow stream they had just forded might bethe upper waters of the Tongue. Their horses stood with heads hangingwearily down, their sides rising and falling; and Hampton, rollingstiffly from the saddle, hastily loosened his girth.
"They 'll drop under us if we don't give them an hour or two," he said,quietly. "They 're both dead beat."
Murphy muttered something, incoherent and garnished with oaths, and themoment he succeeded in releasing the buckle, sank down limp at the veryfeet of his horse, rolling up into a queer ball. The other stared, andtook a step nearer.
"What's the matter? Are you sick, Murphy?"
"No--tired--don't want ter see--thet thing agin."
"What thing?"
"Thet green, devilish,--crawlin' face--if ye must know!" And hetwisted his long, ape-like arms across his eyes, lying curled up as adog might.
For a moment Hampton stood gazing down upon him, listening to hisincoherent mutterings, his own face grave and sympathetic. Then hemoved back and sat down. Suddenly the full conception of what thismeant came to his mind--_the man had gone mad_. The strained cords ofthat diseased brain had snapped in the presence of imagined terrors,and now all was chaos. The horror of it overwhelmed Hampton; not onlydid this unexpected denouement leave him utterly hopeless, but what washe to do with the fellow? How could he bring him forth from therealive? If this stream was indeed the Tongue, then many a mile of roughcountry, ragged with low mountains and criss-crossed by deep ravines,yet stretched between where they now were and the Little Big Horn,where they expected to find Custer's men. They were in the very heartof the Indian country,--the country of the savage Sioux. He stared atthe curled-up man, now silent and breathing heavily as if asleep. Thesilence was profound, the night so black and lonely that Hamptoninvoluntarily closed his heavy eyes to shut it out. If he only mightlight a pipe, or boil himself a cup of black coffee! Murphy neverstirred; the horses were seemingly too weary to browse. Then Hamptonnodded, and sank into an uneasy doze.