The Max Brand Megapack. Max Brand
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sent him—he—” he broke down, stammering, utterly confused.
“This is why I sent him!” she answered, and throwing open the door gestured to him to enter.
He followed her and saw the lean figure of old Joe Cumberland lying on a blanket close to the wall.
“That’s why!” she whispered.
“How does he come here?”
“Ask the devil in his human form! Ask your friend, Jim Silent!”
He walked into the outer room with his head low. He found the others already returned. Their carefully controlled grins spoke volumes.
“Where’s Silent?” he asked heavily.
“He’s gone,” said Jordan.
Hal Purvis took Haines to one side.
“Take a brace,” he urged.
“She hates me, Hal,” said the big fellow sadly. “For God’s sake, was there no other way of getting me out?”
“Not one! Pull yourself together, Lee. There ain’t no one for you to hold a spite agin. Would you rather be back in Elkhead dangling from the end of a rope?”
“It seems to have been a sort of—joke,” said Haines.
“Exactly. But at that sort of a joke nobody laughs!”
“And Whistling Dan Barry?”
“He’s done for. We’re all agin him, an’ now even the rangers will help us hunt him down. Think it over careful, Haines. You’re agin him because you want the girl. I want that damned wolf of his, Black Bart. Kilduff would rather get into the saddle of Satan than ride to heaven. An’ Jim Silent won’t never rest till he sees Dan lyin’ on the ground with a bullet through his heart. Here’s four of us. Each of us want something that belongs to him, from his life to his dog. Haines, I’m askin’ you man to man, was there any one ever born who could get away from four men like us?”
CHAPTER XXVIII
WHISTLING DAN, DESPERADO
It was an urgent business which sent Silent galloping over the hills before dawn. When the first light came he was close to the place of Gus Morris. He slowed his horse to a trot, but after a careful reconnoitring, seeing no one stirring around the sheriff’s house, he drew closer and commenced to whistle a range song, broken here and there with a significant phrase which sounded like a signal. Finally a cloth was waved from a window, and Silent, content, turned his back on the house, and rode away at a walk.
Within half an hour the pounding of a horse approached from behind. The plump sheriff came to a halt beside him, jouncing in the saddle with the suddenness of the stop.
“What’s up?” he called eagerly.
“Whistlin’ Dan.”
“What’s new about him? I know they’re talkin’ about that play he made agin Haines. They’s some says he’s a faster man than you, Jim!”
“They say too damned much!” snarled Silent. “This is what’s new. Whistlin’ Dan Barry—no less—has busted open the jail at Elkhead an’ set Lee Haines free.”
The sheriff could not speak.
“I fixed it, Gus. I staged the whole little game.”
“You fixed it with Whistlin’ Dan?”
“Don’t ask me how I worked it. The pint is that he did the job. He got into the jail while the lynchers was guardin’ it, gettin’ ready for a rush. They opened fire. It was after dark last night. Haines an’ Dan made a rush for it from the stable on their hosses. They was lynchers everywhere. Haines didn’t have no gun. Dan wouldn’t trust him with one. He did the shootin’ himself. He dropped two of them with two shots. His devil of a wolf-dog brung down another.”
“Shootin’ at night?”
“Shootin’ at night,” nodded Silent. “An” now, Gus, they’s only one thing left to complete my little game—an’ that’s to get Whistlin’ Dan Barry proclaimed an outlaw an’ put a price on his head, savvy?”
“Why d’you hate him so?” asked Morris curiously.
“Morris, why d’you hate smallpox?”
“Because a man’s got no chance fightin’ agin it.”
“Gus, that’s why I hate Whistlin’ Dan, but I ain’t here to argue. I want you to get Dan proclaimed an outlaw.”
The sheriff scowled and bit his lip.
“I can’t do it, Jim.”
“Why the hell can’t you?”
“Don’t go jumpin’ down my throat. It ain’t human to double cross nobody the way you’re double crossin’ that kid. He’s clean. He fights square. He’s jest done you a good turn. I can’t do it, Jim.”
There was an ominous silence.
“Gus,” said the outlaw, “how many thousand have I given you?”
The sheriff winced.
“I dunno,” he said, “a good many, Jim.”
“An’ now you’re goin’ to lay down on me?”
Another pause.
“People are gettin’ pretty excited nowadays,” went on Silent carelessly. “Maybe they’d get a lot more excited if they was to know jest how much I’ve paid you, Gus.”
The sheriff struck his forehead with a pudgy hand.
“When a man’s sold his soul to the devil they ain’t no way of buyin’ it back.”
“When you’re all waked up,” said Silent soothingly, “they ain’t no more reasonable man than you, Gus. But sometimes you get to seein’ things cross-eyed. Here’s my game. What do you think they’d do in Elkhead if a letter came for Dan Barry along about now?”
“The boys must be pretty hot,” said the sheriff. “I suppose the letter’d be opened.”
“It would,” said the outlaw. “You’re sure a clever feller, Gus. You c’n see a white hoss in the sunlight. Now what d’you suppose they’d think if they opened a letter addressed to Dan Barry and read something like this:
“‘Dear Dan: You made great play for L.H. None of us is going to forget it. Maybe the thing for you to do is to lay low for a while. Then join us any time you want to. We all think nobody could of worked that stunt any smoother than you done. The rest of the boys say that two thousand ain’t enough for the work you’ve done. They vote that you get an extra thousand for it. I’m agreeable about that, and when you get short of cash just drop up and see us—you know where.
“‘That’s a great bluff you’ve made about being on my trail. Keep it up. It’ll fool everybody for a while. They’ll think, maybe, that what you did for L.H. was because he was your personal friend. They won’t suspect that you’re now one of us. Adios, “‘J.S.’”
Silent waited for the effect of this missive to show in Morris’s face.
“Supposin’ they was to read a letter like that, Gus. D’you think maybe it’d sort of peeve them?”
“He’d be outlawed inside of two days!”
“Right. Here’s the letter. An’ you’re goin’ to see that it’s delivered in Elkhead, Morris.”
The sheriff looked sombrely on the little square of white.
“I sort of think,” he said at last, “that this here’s the death warrant for Whistlin’ Dan Barry.”
“So do I,” grinned Silent, considerably thirsty for action. “That’s your chance