The Rangeland Avenger, Above the Law & Alcatraz (3 Wild West Adventures in One Edition). Max Brand
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he repeated; “Say, kid, did you ever see swine with this stuff hanging around in their hides?”
He slid a hand into his hip pocket and brought it out again full of gold pieces of three denominations. He poured it deftly back and forth.
“Take a slant at it, Jerry,” he said. “Listen to ‘em click! One little job I pulled last week brought me this and about twice as much more. Easy? say, it’s a shame to take the coin. It’s like robbing the cradle. Do you think I’d leave this game even to go off with you, Jerry? Not till I’m blind, kid! Get wise! Say the word and we can pull a stunt on Black Jim that’ll give us the cabin and all the loot that’s stacked up in it.”
His eyes glittered.
“How much has he got stowed away in there, kid?”
She retreated another pace. He was half a dozen yards away now.
“I don’t know,” she murmured. Fear was growing in her, and horror with it. In a sudden desperation she held out her hand to him and cried: “Freddie what is it? You were pretty clean when you first came up here. What has changed you? What’s happened?”
“What’s happened?” he asked, dully, as if he could not follow her meaning.
“Yes, yes! Open your lungs—taste this air. Isn’t that enough in itself to make a man of you? And the scent of the evergreen, Freddie—and the nearness of the sky—and the whiteness of the stars—”
“And the absence of the law, kid,” he broke in. “Don’t forget that. A man makes his own law up here, which means no law at all. We’re above it, that’s what we are. Stay here a little longer and you’ll get it, too!”
She stared at him with great eyes while her mind moved quickly. She was beginning to understand, not the gross-minded brute which Frederick Montgomery had become, but the singular influence of the wild, free life. Of those other twelve and of Montgomery, the open license made animals. There was a difference between them and Black Jim. She had felt the touch of the animal in him, too, but in another manner. The others were like feeders on carrion; he was truly a great and fearless beast of prey. The solemn silences of the mountains imparted to him some of their own dignity. The mystery and the terror of the wilderness were his.
“Above the law?” she said. “No, you’re beneath it. I wish—I wish I were a man for half a minute—to rid the world of you all!”
She turned and fled back to the cabin.
“Jerry! Oh, Jerry!” he shouted from the edge of the clearing where the deadline of Black Jim still held him.
She turned at the door.
“Have you made up your mind about it finally?”
She shuddered so that she could not answer.
“Then, by God, I’ll have you, if I have to get Black Jim first, and I’ll get his other loot when I get you!”
He disappeared among the trees and she went back into the cabin, weak at heart, and filled now with a strange yearning for the return of Black Jim. The vultures, she felt, circled above the valley, waiting for her. He was the strong eagle which would put them to flight.
Evening drew on. He did not come. Night settled black over the valley and the white stars brushed the great trees that fringed the cliffs. Still he did not come. The hearth fire remained unlighted. The damp cold of darkness numbed her hands and her heart. She waited, bowed and miserable. He was delayed, but delay to Black Jim could mean only death. No other force could take all this time for his return. This grew more certain in her mind as the hours passed. In that gloom every minute meant more than whole hours during the day.
At last she made up her mind. Montgomery—not the light-hearted man she had known, but a hot-eyed beast—threatened her. Not he alone, but perhaps all of the other twelve were so many dangers. Now that Black Jim was gone she was helpless in their hands.
By the next day they would know of his long absence and come for her—for her and for the rest of the loot, as Montgomery had said. She must get away from the valley that night. The sentinel was there, to be sure, but that sentinel was Montgomery and she felt that there was a fighting chance that she could pass him safely in the gap. If necessary she could fight, and perhaps she could handle a revolver as well as he. Perhaps she could surprise him. He would not look for the attempt and if she could get him under the aim of her revolver, she knew that he was not a hero.
Once out of the gap there was an even chance for life. She might wander through the mountains until she starved to death. On the other hand she might find a road and follow it to town.
She weighed the chances in her own practical way; rose from the stool; saw that her cartridge belt was well filled; strapped a canvas bag full of food on the other hip, and left the cabin.
She kept as closely as possible to the center of the valley, for she felt that the habitation of the gang must lie close to the wall, on which side she could not know. As she approached the gap she went more and more slowly, for here the valley began to narrow rapidly, and the chance that she might encounter one of the twelve grew greater. At every step she feared a discovery, for it was impossible to guess what lay immediately before her. The valley floor was not only thick with great trees, but mighty boulders. They had evidently been split by erosion from the cliffs around and lay here and there, a perfect hiding place for a veritable army. The keen scent of wood-smoke reached her nostrils. She paused a moment, uncertain from which direction it came, for the air was still. Then she turned to the right and stole on with careful steps. Each crackling of a twig beneath her feet made her heart thunder.
IX. JERRY DECIDES
The scent of smoke grew fainter, ceased, and came again. A murmur like the sound of voices brought her to a dead halt to listen. She heard nothing further for a moment and went on again until a great stone, full forty feet in height, blocked her progress and she began to circle it. As she turned the corner of the boulder she stopped short, and dropped to the ground.
The big stone and several smaller ones close to it lay in a rough circle, and in the center of the space smoked a pile of wood, which would soon break into flames. Already little crimson tongues of flames licked up along the edges, quivered, and went out, to be replaced by others. By the dim light of this rising fire, she made out shadowy figures one after another, nine in all, and she could not see all of the circle.
“Start it yourself, Porky,” said a voice.
A snatch of flame jerked up the side of the pile of wood and flickered a moment like a detached thing at the top. By that light she saw the big bearded fellow leaning against a rock just opposite her.
“Not me,” he answered, “Mac will be back maybe. If he don’t come, I’ll start the ball rollin’. Gimme time.”
The fear which made her drop to the ground still paralyzed Jerry, so that she heard these things as from a great distance. With all her heart she wished for the strength to creep back from the rock, but for the moment she had no strength. The clatter of a galloping horse drew up to the rocks and stopped. Montgomery entered the circle and threw himself down beside Porky. A general silence held the group. The fire flamed up and clearly showed the round of somber faces as they turned to Montgomery.
New heart came to Jerry, for Montgomery had evidently abandoned his place in the gap and now the way of her flight lay clear. She rose cautiously from her prone position to her hands and knees and began to draw softly back.
“Did he come through?” asked a voice.
“Just passed me,” answered Montgomery, “and he was riding hard. The roan looked as if he’d covered a hundred miles today.”
Jerry paused, all ears, and her heart leaped. They must mean that Black Jim had ridden through the pass. The black shadow of the rock concealed