Bob Hampton of Placer

by Randall Parrish

  CHAPTER XI

  THE DOOR OPENS, AND CLOSES AGAIN

  In one sense Hampton had greatly enjoyed Miss Spencer's call. Herbright, fresh face, her impulsive speech, her unquestioned beauty, hadhad their effect upon him, changing for the time being the gloomy trendof his thoughts. She was like a draught of pure Spring air, and he hadgratefully breathed it in, and even longed for more.

  But gradually the slight smile of amusement faded from his eyes.Something, which he had supposed lay securely hidden behind years anddistance, had all at once come back to haunt him,--the unhappy ghost ofan expiated crime, to do evil to this girl Naida. Two men, at least,knew sufficient of the past to cause serious trouble. This effort bySlavin to hold personal communication with the girl was evidently madefor some definite purpose. Hampton was unable to decide what thatpurpose could be. He entertained no doubt regarding the enmity of thebig gambler, or his desire to "get even" for all past injuries; but howmuch did he know? What special benefit did he hope to gain fromconferring with Naida Gillis? Hampton decided to have a face-to-faceinterview with the man himself; he was accustomed to fight his battlesin the open, and to a finish. A faint hope, which had been growingdimmer and dimmer with every passing year, began to flicker once againwithin his heart. He desired to see this man Murphy, and to learnexactly what he knew.

  He had planned his work, and was perfectly prepared to meet itsdangers. He entered the almost deserted saloon opposite the hotel,across the threshold of which he had not stepped for two years, and theman behind the bar glanced up apprehensively.

  "Red Slavin?" he said. "Well, now see here, Hampton, we don't want notrouble in this shebang."

  "I 'm not here seeking a fight, Jim," returned the inquirer, genially."I merely wish to ask 'Red' an unimportant question or two."

  "He's there in the back room, I reckon, but he's damn liable to take apot shot at you when you go in."

  Hampton's genial smile only broadened, as he carelessly rolled anunlighted cigar between his lips.

  "It seems to me you are becoming rather nervous for this line ofbusiness, Jim. You should take a good walk in the fresh air everymorning, and let up on the liquor. I assure you, Mr. Slavin is one ofmy most devoted friends, and is of that tender disposition he would notwillingly injure a fly."

  He walked to the door, flung it swiftly and silently open, and steppingwithin, closed it behind him with his left hand. In the otherglittered the steel-blue barrel of a drawn revolver.

  "Slavin, sit down!"

  The terse, imperative words seemed fairly to cut the air, and thered-bearded gambler, who had half risen to his feet, an oath upon hislips, sank back into his seat, staring at the apparition confrontinghim as if fascinated. Hampton jerked a chair up to the opposite sideof the small table, and planted himself on it, his eyes never oncedeserting the big gambler's face.

  "Put your hands on the table, and keep them there!" he said. "Now, mydear friend, I have come here in peace, not war, and take these slightprecautions merely because I have heard a rumor that you have indulgedin a threat or two since we last parted, and I know something of yourimpetuous disposition. No doubt this was exaggerated, but I am acareful man, and prefer to have the 'drop,' and so I sincerely hope youwill pardon my keeping you covered during what is really intended as afriendly call. I regret the necessity, but trust you are restingcomfortably."

  "Oh, go to hell!"

  "We will consider that proposition somewhat later." Hampton laid hishat with calm deliberation on the table. "No doubt, Mr. Slavin,--ifyou move that hand again I 'll fill your system with lead,--youexperience some very natural curiosity regarding the object of myunanticipated, yet I hope no less welcome, visit."

  Slavin's only reply was a curse, his bloodshot eyes roaming the roomfurtively.

  "I suspected as much," Hampton went on, coolly. "Indeed, I should havefelt hurt had you been indifferent upon such an occasion. It doescredit to your heart, Slavin. Come now, keep your eyes on me! I wasabout to gratify your curiosity, and, in the first place, I came toinquire solicitously regarding the state of your health during myabsence, and incidentally to ask why you are exhibiting so great aninterest in Miss Naida Gillis."

  Slavin straightened up, his great hands clinching nervously, drops ofperspiration appearing on his red forehead. "I don't understand yourdamned fun."

  Hampton's lips smiled unpleasantly. "Slavin, you greatly discourageme. The last time I was here you exhibited so fine a sense of humorthat I was really quite proud of you. Yet, truly, I think you dounderstand this joke. Your memory can scarcely be failing at yourage.--Make another motion like that and you die right there! You knowme.--However, as you seem to shy over my first question, I 'll honoryou with a second,--Where's Silent Murphy?"

  Slavin's great square jaws set, a froth oozing from between his thicklips, and for an instant the other man believed that in his paroxysm ofrage he would hurl himself across the table. Then suddenly theungainly brute went limp, his face grown haggard.

  "You devil!" he roared, "what do you mean?"

  Surprised as Hampton was by this complete breaking down, he knew hisman far too well to yield him the slightest opportunity for treachery.With revolver hand resting on the table, the muzzle pointing at thegiant's heart, he leaned forward, utterly remorseless now, and keen asan Indian on the trail.

  "Do you know who I am?"

  The horror in Slavin's eyes had changed to sullenness, but he noddedsilently.

  "How do you know?"

  There was no reply, although the thick lips appeared to move.

  "Answer me, you red sneak! Do you think I am here to be played with?Answer!"

  Slavin gulped down something which seemed threatening to choke him, buthe durst not lift a hand to wipe the sweat from his face. "If--if Ididn't have this beard on you might guess. I thought you knew me allthe time."

  Hampton stared at him, still puzzled. "I have certainly seen yousomewhere. I thought that from the first. Where was it?"

  "I was in D Troop, Seventh Cavalry."

  "D Troop? Brant's troop?"

  The big gambler nodded. "That's how I knew you, Captain," he said,speaking with greater ease, "but I never had no reason to say anythingabout it round here. You was allers decent 'nough ter me."

  "Possibly,"--and it was plainly evident from his quiet tone Hampton hadsteadied from his first surprise,--"the boot was on the other leg, andyou had some good reason not to say anything."

  Slavin did not answer, but he wet his lips with his tongue, his eyes onthe window.

  "Who is this fellow Murphy?"

  "He was corporal in that same troop, sir." The ex-cavalryman droppedinsensibly into his old form of speech. "He knew you too, and wetalked it over, and decided to keep still, because it was none of ouraffair anyhow."

  "Where is he now?"

  "He left last night with army despatches for Cheyenne."

  Hampton's eyes hardened perceptibly, and his fingers closed moretightly about the butt of his revolver. "You lie, Slavin! The lastmessage did not reach here until this morning. That fellow is hidingsomewhere in this camp, and the two of you have been trying to get atthe girl. Now, damn you, what is your little game?"

  The big gambler was thinking harder then, perhaps, than he had everthought in his life before. He was no coward, although there was ayellow, wolfish streak of treachery in him, and he read clearly enoughin the watchful eyes glowing behind that blue steel barrel a mercilessdetermination which left him nerveless. He knew Hampton would kill himif he needed to do so, but he likewise realized that he was not likelyto fire until he had gained the information he was seeking. Cunningpointed the only safe way out from this difficulty. Lies had servedhis turn well before, and he hoped much from them now. If he only knewhow much information the other possessed, it would be easy enough. Ashe did not, he must wield his weapon blindly.

  "You 're makin' a devil of a fuss over little or nuthin'," he growled,simulating a tone of disgust.
"I never ain't hed no quarrel with ye,exceptin' fer the way ye managed ter skin me at the table bout twoyears ago. I don't give two screeches in hell for who you are; an'besides, I reckon you ain't the only ex-convict a-ranging Dakota eitherfer the matter o' that. No more does Murphy. We ain't no bloomin'detectives, an' we ain't buckin' in on no business o' yourn; ye kinjust bet your sweet life on thet."

  "Where is Murphy, then? I wish to see the fellow."

  "I told you he'd gone. Maybe he didn't git away till this mornin', buthe's gone now all right. What in thunder do ye want o' him? I reckonI kin tell ye all thet Murphy knows."

  For a breathless moment neither spoke, Hampton fingering his gunnervously, his eyes lingering on that brutal face.

  "Slavin," he said at last, his voice hard, metallic, "I 've figured itout, and I do know you now, you lying brute. You are the fellow whoswore you saw me throw away the gun that did the shooting, and thatafterwards you picked it up."

  There was the spirit of murder in his eyes, and the gambler coweredback before them, trembling like a child.

  "I--I only swore to the last part, Captain," he muttered, his voicescarcely audible. "I--I never said I saw you throw---"

  "And I swore," went on Hampton, "that I would kill you on sight. Youlying whelp, are you ready to die?"

  Slavin's face was drawn and gray, the perspiration standing in beadsupon his forehead, but he could neither speak nor think, fascinated bythose remorseless eyes, which seemed to burn their way down into hisvery soul.

  "No? Well, then, I will give you, to-day, just one chance tolive--one, you dog--one. Don't move an eyelash! Tell me honestly whyyou have been trying to get word with the girl, and you shall go outfrom here living. Lie to me about it, and I am going to kill you whereyou sit, as I would a mad dog. You know me, Slavin--now speak!"

  So intensely still was it, Hampton could distinguish the faint tickingof the watch in his pocket, the hiss of the breath between the giant'sclinched teeth. Twice the fellow tried to utter something, his lipsshaking as with the palsy, his ashen face the picture of terror. Nowretch dragged shrieking to the scaffold could have formed a morepitiful sight, but there was no mercy in the eyes of the man watchinghim.

  "Speak, you cringing hound!"

  Slavin gripped his great hands together convulsively, his throatswelling beneath its red beard. He knew there was no way of escape."I--I had to do it! My God, Captain, I had to do it!"

  "Why?"

  "I had to, I tell you. Oh, you devil, you fiend! I 'm not the one you're after--it's Murphy!"

  For a single moment Hampton stared at the cringing figure. Thensuddenly he rose to his feet in decision. "Stand up! Lift your handsfirst, you fool. Now unbuckle your gun-belt with your left hand--yourleft, I said! Drop it on the floor."

  There was an unusual sound behind, such as a rat might have made, andHampton glanced aside apprehensively. In that single second Slavin wasupon him, grasping his pistol-arm at the wrist, and striving with hairyhand to get a death-grip about his throat. Twice Hampton's left drovestraight out into that red, gloating face, and then the giant'scrushing weight bore him backward. He fought savagely, silently, hisslender figure like steel, but Slavin got his grip at last, and withgiant strength began to crunch his victim within his vise-like arms.There was a moment of superhuman strain, their breathing mere sobs ofexhaustion. Then Slavin slipped, and Hampton succeeded in wrigglingpartially free from his death-grip. It was for scarcely an instant,yet it served; for as he bent aside, swinging his burly opponent withhim, some one struck a vicious blow at his back; but the descendingknife, missing its mark, sunk instead deep into Slavin's breast.

  Hampton saw the flash of a blade, a hand, a portion of an arm, and thenthe clutching fingers of Slavin swept him down. He reached out blindlyas he fell, his hand closing about the deserted knife-hilt. The twocrashed down together upon the floor, the force of the fall driving theblade home to the gambler's heart.