The Zane Grey Megapack. Zane Grey
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again’ ye, cap’n,” said Case, skilfully shaking the ivory cubes.
“Hain’t I got eyes?” growled the outlaw.
Steadily his pile of gold diminished, and darker grew his face.
“Cap’n, I’m a bad wind to draw,” Case rejoined, drinking again from the flask. His naturally red face had become livid, his skin moist, and his eyes wild with excitement.
“Hullo! If them dice wasn’t Jenks’s, an’ I hadn’t played afore with him, I’d swear they’s loaded.”
“You ain’t insinuatin’ nothin’, cap’n?” inquired Case softly, hesitating with the dice in his hands, his evil eyes glinting at Legget.
“No, you’re fair enough,” growled the leader. “It’s my tough luck.”
The game progressed with infrequent runs of fortune for the outlaw, and presently every piece of gold lay in a shining heap before the sailor.
“Clean busted!” exclaimed Legget in disgust.
“Can’t you find nothin’ more?” asked Case.
The outlaw’s bold eyes wandered here and there until they rested upon the prisoner.
“I’ll play ther lass against yer pile of gold,” he growled. “Best two throws outen three. See here, she’s as much mine as Brandt’s.”
“Make it half my pile an’ I’ll go you.”
“Nary time. Bet, or give me back what yer win,” replied Legget gruffly.
“She’s a trim little craft, no mistake,” said Case, critically surveying Helen. “All right, cap’n, I’ve sportin’ blood, an’ I’ll bet. Yer throw first.”
Legget won the first cast, and Case the second. With deliberation the outlaw shook the dice in his huge fist, and rattled them out upon the stone. “Hah!” he cried in delight. He had come within one of the highest score possible. Case nonchalantly flipped the little white blocks. The Indians crowded forward, their dusky eyes shining.
Legget swore in a terrible voice which re-echoed from the stony cliff. The sailor was victorious. The outlaw got up, kicked the stone and dice in the brook, and walked away from the group. He strode to and fro under one of the trees. Gruffly he gave an order to the Indians. Several of them began at once to kindle a fire. Presently he called Jenks, who was fishing the dice out of the brook, and began to converse earnestly with him, making fierce gestures and casting lowering glances at the sailor.
Case was too drunk now to see that he had incurred the enmity of the outlaw leader. He drank the last of the rum, and tossed the silver flask to an Indian, who received the present with every show of delight.
Case then, with the slow, uncertain movements of a man whose mind is befogged, began to count his gold; but only to gather up a few pieces when they slipped out of his trembling hands to roll on the moss. Laboriously, seriously, he kept at it with the doggedness of a drunken man. Apparently he had forgotten the others. Failing to learn the value of the coins by taking up each in turn, he arranged them in several piles, and began to estimate his wealth in sections.
In the meanwhile Helen, who had not failed to take in the slightest detail of what was going on, saw that a plot was hatching which boded ill to the sailor. Moreover, she heard Legget and Jenks whispering.
“I kin take him from right here ’atwixt his eyes,” said Jenks softly, and tapped his rifle significantly.
“Wal, go ahead, only I ruther hev it done quieter,” answered Legget. “We’re yet a long ways, near thirty miles, from my camp, an’ there’s no tellin’ who’s in ther woods. But we’ve got ter git rid of ther fresh sailor, an’ there’s no surer way.”
Cautiously cocking his rifle, Jenks deliberately raised it to his shoulder. One of the Indian sentinels who stood near at hand, sprang forward and struck up the weapon. He spoke a single word to Legget, pointed to the woods above the cliff, and then resumed his statue-like attitude.
“I told yer, Jenks, that it wouldn’t do. The redskin scents somethin’ in the woods, an’ ther’s an Injun I never seed fooled. We mustn’t make a noise. Take yer knife an’ tomahawk, crawl down below the edge o’ the bank an’ slip up on him. I’ll give half ther gold fer ther job.”
Jenks buckled his belt more tightly, gave one threatening glance at the sailor, and slipped over the bank. The bed of the brook lay about six feet below the level of the ground. This afforded an opportunity for the outlaw to get behind Case without being observed. A moment passed. Jenks disappeared round a bend of the stream. Presently his grizzled head appeared above the bank. He was immediately behind the sailor; but still some thirty feet away. This ground must be covered quickly and noiselessly. The outlaw began to crawl. In his right hand he grasped a tomahawk, and between his teeth was a long knife. He looked like a huge, yellow bear.
The savages, with the exception of the sentinel who seemed absorbed in the dense thicket on the cliff, sat with their knees between their hands, watching the impending tragedy.
Nothing but the merest chance, or some extraordinary intervention, could avert Case’s doom. He was gloating over his gold. The creeping outlaw made no more noise than a snake. Nearer and nearer he came; his sweaty face shining in the sun; his eyes tigerish; his long body slipping silently over the grass. At length he was within five feet of the sailor. His knotty hands were dug into the sward as he gathered energy for a sudden spring.
At that very moment Case, with his hand on his knife, rose quickly and turned round.
The outlaw, discovered in the act of leaping, had no alternative, and spring he did, like a panther.
The little sailor stepped out of line with remarkable quickness, and as the yellow body whirled past him, his knife flashed blue-bright in the sunshine.
Jenks fell forward, his knife buried in the grass beneath him, and his outstretched hand still holding the tomahawk.
“Tryin’ ter double-cross me fer my gold,” muttered the sailor, sheathing his weapon. He never looked to see whether or no his blow had been fatal. “These border fellars might think a man as sails the seas can’t handle a knife.” He calmly began gathering up his gold, evidently indifferent to further attack.
Helen saw Legget raise his own rifle, but only to have it struck aside as had Jenks’s. This time the savage whispered earnestly to Legget, who called the other Indians around him. The sentinel’s low throaty tones mingled with the soft babbling of the stream. No sooner had he ceased speaking than the effect of his words showed how serious had been the information, warning or advice. The Indians cast furtive glances toward the woods. Two of them melted like shadows into the red and gold thicket. Another stealthily slipped from tree to tree until he reached the open ground, then dropped into the grass, and was seen no more until his dark body rose under the cliff. He stole along the green-stained wall, climbed a rugged corner, and vanished amid the dense foliage.
Helen felt that she was almost past discernment or thought. The events of the day succeeding one another so swiftly, and fraught with panic, had, despite her hope and fortitude, reduced her to a helpless condition of piteous fear. She understood that the savages scented danger, or had, in their mysterious way, received intelligence such as rendered them wary and watchful.
“Come on, now, an’ make no noise,” said Legget to Case. “Bring the girl, an’ see that she steps light.”
“Ay, ay, cap’n,” replied the sailor. “Where’s Brandt?”
“He’ll be comin’ soon’s his cut stops bleedin’. I reckon he’s weak yet.”
Case gathered up his goods, and, tucking it under his arm, grasped Helen’s arm. She was leaning against the tree, and when he pulled her, she wrenched herself free, rising with difficulty. His disgusting touch and revolting face had revived her sensibilities.
“Yer kin begin duty by carryin’ thet,” said Case, thrusting