The Blue Goose
Page 17
CHAPTER XVII
_The Bearded Lion_
Zephyr was doing some meditation on his own account after the meetingwith Firmstone at the Devil's Elbow.
That not only Firmstone's reputation, but his life as well, hung in thebalance, Zephyr had visible proof. This material proof he was absentlytipping from hand to hand, during his broken and unsatisfactoryinterview with Firmstone. It was nothing more nor less than anickel-jacketed bullet which, that very morning, had barely missed hishead, only to flatten itself against the rocks behind him.
The morning was always a dull time at the Blue Goose. Morrison sleptlate. Elise was either with Madame or rambling among the hills. OnlyPierre, who seemed never to sleep, was to be counted upon with anycertainty.
By sunrise on the day that Firmstone and Miss Hartwell were riding tothe Falls Zephyr was up and on his way to the Blue Goose. He foundPierre in the bar-room.
"_Bon jour, M'sieur._" Zephyr greeted him affably as he slowly sank intoa chair opposite the one in which Pierre was seated.
Pierre, with hardly a movement of his facial muscles, returned Zephyr'ssalutation. From his manner no one would have suspected that, hadsomeone with sufficient reason inquired as to the whereabouts of Zephyr,Pierre would have replied confidently that the sought-for person wasbobbing down the San Miguel with a little round hole through his head.Zephyr's presence in the flesh simply told him that, for some unknownreason, his plan had miscarried.
Zephyr lazily rolled a cigarette and placed it between his lips. Heraised his eyes languidly to Pierre's.
"M'sieu Pierre mek one slick plan. Ze Rainbow Company work ze mine, zemill. _Moi_, Pierre, mek ze gol' in mon cellaire." Zephyr blew forth thewords in a cloud of smoke.
Pierre started and looked around. His hand made a motion toward his hippocket. Zephyr dropped his bantering tone.
"Not yet, Frenchy. You'll tip over more soup kettles than you know of."He dropped the flattened bullet on the table and pointed to it. "Thatwas a bad break on your part. It might have been worse for you as wellas for me, if your man hadn't been a bad shot."
Pierre reached for the bullet, but Zephyr gathered it in.
"Not yet, M'sieur. It was intended for me, and I'll keep it, as a tokenof respect. I know M'sieur Pierre. Wen M'sieur Pierre bin mek up ze min'for shoot, M'sieur Pierre bin say,'_Comment!_ Zat fellaire he bin toodamn smart _pour moi_.' Thanks! Me and Firmstone are much obliged."
Pierre shrugged his shoulders impatiently. Zephyr noted the gesture.
"Don't stop there, M'sieur. Get up to your head. You're in a mess, a badone. Shake your wits. Get up and walk around. Explode some _sacres_.Pull out a few handfuls of hair and scatter around. No good lookingdaggers. The real thing won't work on me, and you'd only get in a worsemess if it did. That's Firmstone, too. We both are more valuable to youalive than dead. Of what value is it to a man to do two others, if hegets soaked in the neck himself?"
Pierre was angered. It was useless to try to conceal it. His swarthycheeks grew livid.
"_Sacre!_" he blurted. "What you mean in hell?"
"That's better. Now you're getting down to business. When I find a manthat's up against a thing too hard for him, I don't mind giving him alift."
"You lif' and bedam!" Pierre had concluded that pretensions were uselesswith Zephyr, and he gave his passion full play. Even if he made breakswith Zephyr, he would be no worse off.
"I'll' lif'' all right. 'Bedam' is as maybe. Now, Frenchy, if you'llcalm yourself a bit, I'll speak my little piece. You've slated Firmstoneand me for over the divide. _P'quoi, M'sieur?_ For this. Firmstoneunderstands his business and tends to it. This interferes with yourcellar. So Mr. Firmstone was to be fired by the company. You steeredthat safe into the river to help things along. You thought that Jimwould be killed and Firmstone would be chump enough to charge it to ahold-up, and go off on a wrong scent. Jim got off, and Firmstone wasgoing to get the safe. I know you are kind-hearted and don't like to dofolks; but Firmstone and me were taking unwarranted liberties with yourplans. Now put your ear close to the ground, Frenchy, and listen hardand you'll hear something drop. If you do Firmstone you'll seecross-barred sunlight the rest of your days. I'll see to that. If you dous both it won't make much difference. I've been taking my pen in handfor a few months back, and the result is a bundle of papers in a safeplace. It may not be much in a literary way; but it will make mightyinteresting reading for such as it may concern, and you are one of them.Now let me tell you one thing more. If this little damned thing had gonethrough my head on the way to something harder, in just four days you'dbe taking your exercise in a corked jug. My game is worth two of yours.Mine will play itself when I'm dead; yours won't."
Pierre's lips parted enough to show his set teeth.
"_Bien!_ You tink you bin damn smart, heh? I show you. You bin catch onerattlesnake by ze tail. _Comment?_ I show you." Pierre rose.
"Better wait a bit, Frenchy. I've been giving you some information. NowI'll give you some instructions. You've been planning to have Elisemarried. Don't do it. You've made up your mind not to keep your promiseto her dead father and mother. You just go back to your originalintentions. It will be good for your body, and for your soul, too, ifyou've got any. You're smooth stuff, Pierre, too smooth to think thatI'm talking four of a kind on a bob-tail flush. Comprenny?"
Pierre's eyes lost their fierceness, but his face none of itsdetermination.
"I ain't going to give hup my li'l Elise. _Sacre, non!_"
"That's for Elise to say. You've got to give her the chance."
There was a moment's pause. "How you bin mek me, heh?" Pierre turnedlike a cat. There was a challenge in his words; but there were thoughtshe did not voice.
Zephyr was not to be surprised into saying more than he intended.
"That's a slick game, Pierre; but it won't work. If you want to draw myfire, you'll have to hang more than an empty hat on a stick. In plain,flat English, I've got you cinched. If you want to feel the straps draw,just start in to buck."
Pierre rose from the table. His eyes were all but invisible. There wasno ursine clumsiness in his movements, as he walked to and fro in thebar-room. As became a feline, he walked in silence and on his toes. Hewas thinking of many a shady incident in his past career, and he knewthat with the greater number of his shaded spots Zephyr was more or lessfamiliar. With which of them was Zephyr most familiar, and was there anyone by means of which Zephyr could thwart him by threatening exposure?Pierre's tread became yet more silent. He was half crouching, as ifready for a spring. Zephyr had referred to the cellar. There was hisweakest spot. Luna, the mill foreman, dozens of men, he could name themevery one--all had brought their plunder to the Blue Goose.
Every man who brought him uncoined gold was a thief, and they all feltsafe because in the eyes of the law he, Pierre, was one of them. Healone was not safe. Not one of the thieves was certainly known to theothers; he was known to them all. It could not be helped. He had takenbig chances; but his reward had been great as well. That would not helphim, if--Unconsciously he crouched still lower. "If there's anyprocession heading for Canon City you'll be in it, too." Someone had gotfrightened. Luna, probably. Firmstone was working him, and Zephyr washelping Firmstone. Pierre knew well the fickle favour of the common man.A word could destroy his loyalty, excite his fears, or arouse him tovengeance. Burning, bitter hatred raged in the breast of the littleFrenchman. Exposure, ruin, the penitentiary! His hand rested on the buttof his revolver as he slowly turned.
Zephyr was leaning on the table. There was a look of languid assurance,of insolent contempt in the eye that was squinting along a polishedbarrel held easily, but perfectly balanced for instant action.
"Go it, Frenchy." Zephyr's voice was patronising.
Pierre gave way to the passion that raged within him.
"_Sacre nom du diable! Mille tonnerres!_ You bin tink you mek me scare,_moi_, Pierre! Come on, Meestaire Zephyr, come on! Fourtin more justlike it! Strew de piece hall roun' ze dooryard!"
"A-a-ah! Ze gran' _spectacle_! _Magnifique!_ By gar! She bin comedownfirsrate. Frenchy, you have missed your cue. Take the advice of afriend. Don't stay here, putting addled eggs under a painted goose. Justdo that act on the stage, and you'll have to wear seven-league boots toget out of the way of rolling dollars."