by Max Brand
"By Jiminy!" exclaimed Jack Moon, smiling with an almost boyish pleasure. "That's sure a hoss, that one of yours. Lou?"
"You've heard of her?"
"Everybody that's heard of you has heard of her, if they have any ears to listen to folks' talk," said the other. "She's handy herself, ain't she? How come she don't make any more noise going through a wood?"
"Training," answered Ronicky Doone. "Took a pile of pains."
"I reckon!"
"But now she knows enough not to step where the dead leaves are thick or on a branch or nothing like that. Besides, I've got her so's she knows when she ain't to make any noise like whinnying."
"That must of took time, Ronicky!"
"About two years, training her every day."
"You don't say! Well, you sure are the out-beatingest gent for patience, Ronicky!"
The other returned no answer. It was very strange to hear them conversing in so frank a manner, making no mysteries with each other the one asking simple questions, the other answering them with fully as much simplicity. One might have thought them old and familiar acquaintances. Neither had raised his voice since Ronicky answered the third call.
"How come you to foller so close?" went on Jack Moon.
"I'm going to kill you, Moon," said the smaller man, as gentle of voice as ever.
"The devil you are!" murmured Moon, also without violence. "How come?"
"They won't hear the gun. Not with that wood-chopping going on and at this distance."
"No, maybe not. And then what?"
"Hide your body and then drift back to the camp and get Dawn and the girl tonight."
"You agin' a dozen?"
"A dozen? They's only a man and a half in that camp. And you're the whole man, partner."
"I take that kind of you, Ronicky."
"Don't mention it."
"But they'll have numbers on you!"
"Numbers ain't anything. Not in night work. Not when you got the instinct for shooting. I'd sort of like it."
"You would?"
"Yep. I never met up with so many gents that was all ripe for shooting, Moon. And I sure would like to get busy right among all them targets."
"Why don't you get a job with a sheriff?" asked Moon. "That'd keep your hand in on the work you like."
"I wouldn't make it professional. I ain't that low. I shoot to kill when I have to, that's all."
"But you sort of like to have to, eh?"
"I guess that's it. Ah!"
The last monosyllable was a snarl of eagerness, and the hand of Ronicky flashed down to his revolver but it came away again and rested carelessly on his hip. He had mistaken a movement of the outlaw's right hand.
"Sorry," said Ronicky.
"That's all right. I got steady nerves. Well, Ronicky, it's sure fine to have met you after hearing so much about you. And it's fine to see you so fit."
"Thanks," said Ronicky. "I'm waiting for you to start something, Jack."
"Want me to start for my gat first? I never take gifts, Ronicky. They cost too much!"
"H'm!" said Ronicky. "You're a queer bird, Jack."
"Yep. That's right. I'm queer. Pretty near as queer as you. You're so sure you'd beat me if we come to pulling guns."
"That ain't queer," said Ronicky. "It's just a feeling you get."
"Like shooting in the dark?"
"Kind of. I know I'm a faster man than you, Jack. Shooting you is pretty near to murder except that you been such a devil that you deserve a thousand killings."
"Thanks! But they ain't going to be no gun play, son."
"No?"
"I've said they wasn't, and I mean it. You're going to come back in camp with me. You're going to come back as one of my men."
Ronicky started and then shook his head.
"You got me figured all wrong," he said patiently. "I ain't your kind, Jack."
"Nobody is," said the other. "But you'll come."
"To get a share of the Cosslett gold if it's found?"
"D'you think I'd try to buy you with gold, Ronicky? Son, you must think I'm a plumb fool. No, money ain't your price."
"I got a price, have I?"
"I'll show you. You'll come into camp with me because you want to get Dawn and the girl off."
"Well? Ain't they made a bargain? They show you the treasure, and you set 'em free."
"You know as well as me that they ain't any treasure, son. I'm digging just for the fun of it. One chance in a thousand, maybe, and it's worth the try."
"Moon," said the other, straightening, "it ain't any good. I know you."
"You're the only gent in the world that does, then," said Jack Moon.
"Maybe you think that. Maybe you're right. I don't want to get close enough to a gent like you to find out the truth. I want to put on gloves when I handle you."
"That's sort of strong, son!"
"Curse you!" said Ronicky Doone, his voice trembling suddenly with a horror and loathing which he had been repressing all of this time. "I can understand and forgive some gents for killing. Some men kill because they go plumb mad with anger. And I'd forgive them. But you you're never going to lose your temper. You're not fond of nothing but yourself. You kill because things get in your way. You kill by rule, the way other folks build a house or do 'rithmetic. Moon, of all the gents I ever hear about, you're the worst. I'm going to finish you, right here under these trees!"
"Sure sorry!" the outlaw chuckled. "But, Ronicky, I won't fight!"
The other gasped.
"You? Not fight? Jack Moon not fight?"
"That's what I said."
"You lie!"
"Nope. Why should I get myself dropped? Right now I know you're a better man than I am."
"Moon, I'm going to pull my gun. Defend yourself like a man, or I'll shoot you like the skunk you are!"
But Jack Moon dropped both hands on his hips and smiled straight at the set face of Ronicky Doone.
"You can't do it, Ronicky," he said. "That's the trouble with fools like you. You can't do a lot of things you ought to do. You won't shoot till I move for my gun. I ain't going to move!"
"I'll let the mountains know you're yaller, Moon!"
"Tell the mountains, then. None of the men would believe it."
Ronicky Doone ground his teeth, knowing the truth.
"Come out with your game, Jack," he said at last. "How you going to get me? Why d'you want me? How come you think I'm such a fool I'll go into your camp with you where I'd be helpless?"
The leader laughed softly, more to himself an inward mirth.
"D'you expect me to answer all them questions? All I'll tell you is this: I'm going to get you into camp so's I can down you by myself, Ronicky. You're a better man than me right now. The first I've ever met! But after I've had you with me for twenty-four hours, you'll begin to get weak without knowing it. And when the bust comes, I'll win! That's the main reason!"
"You think I'm a plumb fool, Jack," said Ronicky. "Come into your camp? What'd make me want to do that?"
"Because you're weak in the head," said the outlaw, with the utmost calm. "You took up Dawn's fight for no good reason, and now you got to fight it through, or you can't never respect yourself again. And the only way you can help Dawn is by getting into camp, where you and Dawn can try to make your break side by side or fight us to the finish back to back! You know that, and that's why you'll take my offer. You talk about rushing the camp at night. That's fool talk. You know's well as I know that the first shot fired would be by my man Treat into the head of Hugh Dawn."
Ronicky glowered. Indeed, the bait was almost irresistible, even though he was warned at the same time that, if he took it, the trap would close over him sooner or later.
"You can come in with me," said Jack Moon, "but when you come, you got to act like one of my men. And I'll make them like it! They'll want to finish you the first week or so. But you'll take care of that. I trust you to sort of make your own way!"
He grinned at Ronicky wit
h malevolent meaning.
"Suppose I was to start a riot and shoot up some of your men, Jack? Think about that?"
"You won't do it. You ain't the kind that can kill without cause. You'll just bluff them down."
Suddenly Ronicky started.
"Suppose I was to take up your offer which I ain't going to do, of course what would Dawn and the girl think, not knowing the truth, and thinking that I've took the oath and become one of your men? I didn't think of that before!"
"They'll think you're a skunk," said Jack Moon. "That's the main reason I want to get you there. The girl's too fond of you."
Again Ronicky started.
"Talk soft about her," he said fiercely.
"Sure," and the outlaw nodded. "I like her fine. No fear of me talking hard about her. Matter of fact, I'm bringing you in so's I can show her that I've done what I told her I'd do wind you right around my little finger!"
"You swine!" muttered Ronicky.
"What difference does that make? Even if she despises you for a couple of days, won't you still have your chance to play hero later on and save her and her father? And when you get away with them, can't you explain how everything lies?" He paused, then added: "But while you're in camp you'll explain nothing to nobody. I'll have your word on that before you go in!"
"I'm not going in," said Ronicky. "I got a little sense left!"
"You're afraid I'll hypnotize you, or something?" said the leader. "Afraid of my men? Far as that goes, I'll give you my word that I won't let the crowd jump you. A couple might try to measure you, but you can take care of yourself, I reckon. Later on, when I'm ready, you and me'll have it out! Make your play, Ronicky. Will you come, or will you just hang around here in the trees and do no good? You can't get help. You know I got enough on Dawn to have him sent up or executed along with me if we're caught. And I'd sure bust myself wide open to do it. One down, all down. That's my motto."
Ronicky sighed. "I'm coming," he said. "I'm coming. Jack. I start in feeling that I'm beat. You're too clever for me. But I ain't going to admit I'm beat till you drop me full of lead as a roast is full of cloves. Lead on, partner."
"You understand everything?"
"I go in and let on that I've took the oath to stick with your crowd."
"And you promise that you won't use what you might learn from the boys if they should get to talking promiscuous to you about what we've done in the old days."
"I'll promise that. I'm not to do any explaining to anybody, the girl in particular. I'm to work under your orders until I get my chance to make my own play. Same time you contract that you won't send your whole crowd after me. That's what we shake on?"
"That's what we shake on. The only show-down will be between you and me. The girl "
"Leave her out," said Ronicky sharply.
The other laughed. "Anyway you want. But I'm going to show her that I'm a better man than you are."
"She's got too much sense not to see through you, Moon!"
"Has she? I like 'em clever, Doone. They play better into my hand when they're that way! Do we shake hands and start back?"
Ronicky bowed his head, though never for an instant taking his eyes off the big figure in front of him. A few minutes before he had been on the point of drawing his revolver and shooting to kill. But the man had bound his arms with an invisible cord and had netted him in an hypnotic influence. He felt that to bow to the will of the outlaw would be disastrous. Yet, was it not cowardice to refuse? Was there really anything to dread save mob action on the part of the crowd? If he could trust Moon's word to prevent such action, what else was there to worry over? In the meantime, the man to whom he had given his promise that he would see him through to the end was a helpless, hopeless prisoner in the midst of the band.
"I'll go," said Ronicky at last, "on your own terms. You take me in to prove to the girl that I'm crooked. I accept because I want to get the girl and her father loose. We both have our eyes open we play the game we hope to plant each other under the sod in the end. Let's start back!"
"Good!" said the outlaw, and, stepping briskly forth to lead the way, he began laughing softly to himself.
As for Ronicky, his mind was in a whirl of doubts as he followed. This was not his sphere, this atmosphere of trickery and suspicion. He was meant for swift decisions swiftly acted upon. But, having committed himself to this course of action, he could do nothing but submit and let chance bring what it would. At least, he could be constantly on the alert, and if Moon strove to strike by surprise the blow might recoil on his own head.
They came to the edge of the clearing. The shacks were indistinct masses of shadow now, save for the faces on which the firelight struck. A mass of dead logs had been heaped in the center of the open space, and the flames from them leaped straight up until the wind, which stirred above the treetops, lopped off the fire in great billows and extinguished them in waves of darkness.
This fire was for the purpose of giving heat, as the night was coming on chill; the cooking fire was a much humbler affair drawn well to one side. Scattered about it was the expectant circle. What Ronicky Doone saw was a blur of strong, ill-shaven faces, alternately played upon by light and shade as the men leaned toward the fire or sat back. Next he saw the shining hair of the girl, turning to red gold where the firelight struck through it.
She sat with her fingers locked about her knees, and she was talking with animation to the solemn-faced Silas Treat, her nearest neighbor on the right. Hugh Dawn flanked her on the other side.
"Looks kind of at home already, don't she?" asked Jack Moon. "She's one in a thousand, that girl!"
"Sure," said Ronicky Doone. "She's smart enough to know how to act a part."
But he was ill at ease. If in five minutes the outlaw leader had been able to change the mind of a man bent on killing him, and had brought the would-be combatant peaceably back to his camp and really into his power, what could he not do with a girl of an impressionable age? Something must be done about this. The girl must be warned sharply to be on her guard, not against physical danger, because that could not exist among Westerners for her, but against the insidious words of Jack Moon.
It seemed that Moon read his thoughts and defied him.
"I'll make a place for you between Treat and the girl," he said. "You see, I figure to keep you happy, Ronicky!"
He stepped forward to the girl, and Ronicky saw her lift her head with a start and then stare beyond the leader into the darkness. Seeing no one perhaps the firelight blinded her she laughed and seemed highly pleased. Then he made out Moon's voice saying: "Thought you'd be getting lonely, maybe, among all us rough gents. So I brought you a friend."
At that she started to her feet, and Ronicky came on toward her, smiling. At sight of him she stiffened, at first as though in horror, and then with an exclamation of scorn which Ronicky Doone was never to forget.
"Don't come near me!" she cried fiercely. "Don't come near me! Jack Moon, I'd rather have any member of your crew beside me than that creature! I thought there was one man in the world who valued himself above a price. But now I see there's none. None!"
"Jerry," said Ronicky eagerly, "inside of three days you'll know the truth about this."
"For money!" breathed the girl, white of face. "Sold for money! Why, a man like Jack Moon who defies the law is far finer than you! At least he isn't sold. He may buy, but he's never bought!"
"I could talk forever now," said Ronicky, "and never show you why I'm here. But when the time comes, you'll know."
"Whatever you say," she replied, "remember this: I don't care to hear you. You've sold more than yourself. You've sold my faith in you. And that can be sold only once. This is the last word I'll address to you, sir!"
She turned her back and sat down.
"I didn't figure," said Jack Moon, "that you'd come so close to saying kind things about me so soon."
"Kind?" she answered. Suddenly her anger melted almost to the point of tears. "Don't you see I hate you for
what you've done to him? It it's worse than killing a man. It's devilish, this buying of a soul!"
Chapter Seventeen. Reward of Service.
But the leader seemed quite unperturbed by her words. He turned cheerfully to the circle of men, and they interrupted their own talk to stare at the newcomer.
"Gents," said Moon, "this is Ronicky Doone. I've brought him around to our way of thinking. I want you to take to him, and I'm pretty sure that he'll take to us. I guess they ain't anybody here that'd vote agin' letting Ronicky have a share of the plunder if we find Cosslett's gold. If they is, speak up!"
Ronicky could see the point of this speech. Without making a definite statement, the bandit allowed it to be clearly inferred that the offer of a share in the gold had been the purchase price of the new member of the band. Now the wave of silence traveled around the circle, and keen eyes looked at him from under grimly gathered brows.
Silas Treat spoke first. "This kid looks tolerable young to me. I got a right to talk. Any gent that's brought in may be sent out with me to do a little job later on. I want to know what he'll turn when it comes to taking a trick. How does he ride? How does he shoot? What does he know? What's he done?"
I'll answer that," said the leader. "First place, I'll answer for him as a fighting man. They ain't such a thing as luck in a gun play. Or if there is, lucky gents are what we want. I've heard about Doone for two years. Take too long to tell you all. But the first of you that gets tangled with him, will find out a bunch of things pronto. About the rest well, call your hoss, Ronicky!"
Wondering what point there could be in this, Ronicky whistled sharply, and from behind came the swift beating of hoofs. The bay mare shot into the circle of the firelight and stood, a gleaming, beautiful figure, beside her master. There she fidgeted, turning this way and that and eying the bandits with uneasy glances, as though she were not at all pleased to find her owner in such company.
"Look her over, boys," said Moon. "Is they a hoss in the outfit that can touch her? Is a hoss like that ever going to be run down on the trail? And can't you judge a gent pretty much by the hoss he rides?"