They stared at him with a fascinated horror.
"How do you know it's him?" asked Shorty Rhinehart.
"There ain't no sound in the whole world like it. It's a sort of cross between the singing of a bird an' the wailin' of the wind. It's the ghost of Whistlin' Dan."
The tall roan raised his head and whinnied softly. It was an unearthly effect—as if the animal heard the sound which was inaudible to all but his master. It changed big Jim Silent into a quavering coward. Here were five practised fighters who feared nothing between heaven and hell, but what could they avail him against a bodiless spirit? The whistling stopped. He breathed again, but only for a moment.
It began again, and this time much louder and nearer. Surely the others must hear it now, or else it was certainly a ghost. The men sat with dilated eyes for an instant, and then Hal Purvis cried, "I heard it, chief! If it's a ghost, it's hauntin' me too!"
Silent cursed loudly in his relief.
"It ain't a ghost. It's Whistlin' Dan himself. An' Terry Jordan has been carryin' us lies! What in hell do you mean by it?"
"I ain't been carryin' you lies," said Jordan, hotly. "I told you what I heard. I didn't never say that there was any one seen his dead body!"
The whistling began to die out. A babble of conjecture and exclamation broke out, but Jim Silent, still sickly white around the mouth, swung up into the saddle.
"That Whistlin' Dan I'm leavin' to you, Haines," he called. "I've had his blood onct, an' if I meet him agin there's goin' to be another notch filed into my shootin' iron."
He rode swiftly into the dark of the willows, and the lack of noise told that he was picking his way carefully among the bended branches.
"It seems to me," said Terry Jordan, "which I'm not suggestin' anything—but it seems to me that the chief was in a considerable hurry to leave the camp."
"He was," said Hal Purvis, "an' if you seen that play in Morgan's place you wouldn't be wonderin' why. If I was the chief I'd do the same."
"Me speakin' personal," remarked Shorty Rhinehart, "I ain't layin' out to be no man-eater like the chief, but I ain't seen the man that'd make me take to the timbers that way. I don't noways expect thereissuch a man!"
"Shorty," said Haines calmly, "we all knows that you're quite a man, but you and Terry are the only ones of us who are surprised that Silent slid away. The rest of us who saw this Whistling Dan in action aren't a bit inclined to wonder. Suppose you were to meet a black panther down here in the willows?"
"I wouldn't give a damn if I had my Winchester with me."
"All right, Terry, but suppose the panther," broke in Hal Purvis, "could sling shootin' irons as well as you could—maybethat'dmake you partic'ler pleased."
"It ain't possible," said Terry.
"Sure it ain't," grinned Purvis amiably, "an' this Barry ain't possible, either. Where you going, Lee?"
Haines turned from his task of saddling his mount.
"Private matter. Kilduff, you take my place while I'm gone. I may be back tomorrow night. The chief isn't apt to return so soon."
A few moments later Haines galloped out of the willows and headed across the hills towards old Joe Cumberland's ranch. He was remembering his promise to Kate, to keep Dan out of danger. He had failed from that promise once, but that did not mean that he had forgotten. He looked up to the yellow-bright mountain stars, and they were like the eyes of good women smiling down upon him. He guessed that she loved Barry and if he could bring her to Whistling Dan she might have strength enough to take the latter from Silent's trail. The lone rider knew well enough that to bring Dan and Kate together was to surrender his own shadowy hopes, but the golden eyes of the sky encouraged him. So he followed his impulse.
Haines could never walk that middle path which turns neither to the right nor the left, neither up nor down. He went through life with a free-swinging stride, and as the result of it he had crossed the rights of others. He might have lived a lawful life, for all his instincts were gentle. But an accident placed him in the shadow of the law. He waited for his legal trial, but when it came and false witness placed him behind the bars, the revolt came. Two days after his confinement, he broke away from his prison and went to the wilds. There he found Jim Silent, and the mountain-desert found another to add to its list of great outlaws.
Morning came as he drew close to the house, and now his reminiscences were cut short, for at a turn of the road he came upon Kate galloping swiftly over the hills. He drew his horse to a halt and raised his hand. She followed suit. They sat staring. If she had remembered his broken promise and started to reproach, he could have found answer, but her eyes were big with sorrow alone. He put out his hand without a word. She hesitated over it, her eyes questioning him mutely, and then with the ghost of a smile she touched his fingers.
"I want to explain," he said huskily.
"What?"
"You remember I gave you my word that no harm would come to Barry?"
"No man could have helped him."
"You don't hold it against me?"
A gust of wind moaned around them. She waved her arm towards the surrounding hills and her laugh blended with the sound of the wind, it was so faint. He watched her with a curious pang. She seemed among women what that morning was to the coming day—fresh, cool, aloof. It was hard to speak the words which would banish the sorrow from her eyes and make them brilliant with hope and shut him away from her thoughts with a barrier higher than mountains, and broader than seas.
"I have brought you news," he said at last, reluctantly.
She did not change.
"About Dan Barry."
Ay, she changed swiftly enough at that! He could not meet the fear and question of her glance. He looked away and saw the red rim of the sun pushing up above the hills. And colour poured up the throat of Kate Cumberland, up even to her forehead beneath the blowing golden hair.
Haines jerked his sombrero lower on his head. A curse tumbled up to his lips and he had to set his teeth to keep it back.
"But I have heard his whistle."
Her lips moved but made no sound.
"Five other men heard him."
She cried out as if he had hurt her, but the hurt was happiness. He knew it and winced, for she was wonderfully beautiful.
"In the willows of the river bottom, a good twenty miles south," he said at last, "and I will show you the way, if you wish."
He watched her eyes grow large with doubt.
"Can you trust me?" he asked. "I failed you once. Can you trust me now?"
Her hand went out to him.
"With all my heart," she said. "Let us start!"
"I've given my horse a hard ride. He must have some rest."
She moaned softly in her impatience, and then: "We'll go back to the house and you can stable your horse there until you're ready to start. Dad will go with us."
"Your father cannot go," he said shortly.
"Cannot?"
"Let's start back for the ranch," he said, "and I'll tell you something about it as we go."
As they turned their horses he went on: "In order that you may reach Whistling Dan, you'll have to meet first a number of men who are camping down there in the willows."
He stopped. It became desperately difficult for him to go on.
"I am one of those men," he said, "and another of them is the one whomWhistling Dan is following."
She caught her breath and turned abruptly on him.
"What are you, Mr. Lee?"
Very slowly he forced his eyes up to meet her gaze.
"In that camp," he answered indirectly, "your father wouldn't be safe!"
It was out at last!
"Then you are—"
"Your friend."
"Forgive me. Youaremy friend!"
"The man whom Dan is following," he went on, "is the leader. If he gives the command four practised fighters pit themselves against Barry."
"It is murder!"
"You can prevent it," he said. "They know Barry is on the trail, but I think they will do nothing unless he forces them into trouble. And he will force them unless you stop him. No other human being could take him off that trail."
"I know! I know!" she muttered. "But I have already tried, and he will not listen to me!"
"But he will listen to you," insisted Haines, "when you tell him that he will be fighting not one man, but six."
"And if he doesn't listen to me?"
Haines shrugged his shoulders.
"Can't you promise that these men will not fight with him?"
"I cannot."
"But I shall plead with them myself."
He turned to her in alarm.
"No, you must not let them dream you know who they are," he warned, "for otherwise—"
Again that significant shrug of the shoulders.
He explained: "These men are in such danger that they dare not take chances. You are a woman, but if they feel that you suspect them you will no longer be a woman in their eyes."
"Then what must I do?"
"I shall ride ahead of you when we come to the willows, after I have pointed out the position of our camp. About an hour after I have arrived, for they must not know that I have brought you, you will ride down towards the camp. When you come to it I will make sure that it is I who will bring you in. You must pretend that you have simply blundered upon our fire. Whatever you do, never ask a question while you are there—and I'll be your warrant that you will come off safely. Will you try?"
He attempted no further persuasion and contented himself with merely meeting the wistful challenge of her eyes.
"I will," she said at last, and then turning her glance away she repeated softly, "I will."
He knew that she was already rehearsing what she must say to WhistlingDan.
"You are not afraid?"
She smiled.
"Do you really trust me as far as this?"
With level-eyed tenderness that took his breath, she answered: "An absolute trust, Mr. Lee."
"My name," he said in a strange voice, "is Lee Haines."
Of one accord they stopped their horses and their hands met.
The coming of the railroad had changed Elkhead from a mere crossing of the ways to a rather important cattle shipping point. Once a year it became a bustling town whose two streets thronged with cattlemen with pockets burdened with gold which fairly burned its way out to the open air. At other times Elkhead dropped back into a leaden-eyed sleep.
The most important citizen was Lee Hardy, the Wells Fargo agent. Office jobs are hard to find in the mountain-desert, and those who hold them win respect. The owner of a swivel-chair is more lordly than the possessor of five thousand "doggies." Lee Hardy had such a swivel-chair. Moreover, since large shipments of cash were often directed by Wells Fargo to Elkhead, Hardy's position was really more significant than the size of the village suggested. As a crowning stamp upon his dignity he had a clerk who handled the ordinary routine of work in the front room, while Hardy set himself up in state in a little rear office whose walls were decorated by two brilliant calendars and the coloured photograph of a blond beauty advertising a toilet soap.
To this sanctuary he retreated during the heat of the day, while in the morning and evening he loitered on the small porch, chatting with passers-by. Except in the hottest part of the year he affected a soft white collar with a permanent bow tie. The leanness of his features, and his crooked neck with the prominent Adam's apple which stirred when he spoke, suggested a Yankee ancestry, but the faded blue eyes, pathetically misted, could only be found in the mountain-desert.
One morning into the inner sanctum of this dignitary stepped a man built in rectangles, a square face, square, ponderous shoulders, and even square-tipped fingers. Into the smiling haze of Hardy's face his own keen black eye sparkled like an electric lantern flashed into a dark room. He was dressed in the cowboy's costume, but there was no Western languor in his make-up. Everything about him was clear cut and precise. He had a habit of clicking his teeth as he finished a sentence. In a word, when he appeared in the doorway Lee Hardy woke up, and before the stranger had spoken a dozen words the agent was leaning forward to be sure that he would not miss a syllable.
"You're Lee Hardy, aren't you?" said he, and his eyes gave the impression of a smile, though his lips did not stir after speaking.
"I am," said the agent.
"Then you're the man I want to see. If you don't mind—"
He closed the door, pulled a chair against it, and then sat down, and folded his arms. Very obviously he meant business. Hardy switched his position in his chair, sitting a little more to the right, so that the edge of the seat would not obstruct the movement of his hand towards the holster on his right thigh.
"Well," he said good naturedly, "I'm waitin'."
"Good," said the stranger, "I won't keep you here any longer than is necessary. In the first place my name is Tex Calder."
Hardy changed as if a slight layer of dust had been sifted over his face. He stretched out his hand.
"It's great to see you, Calder," he said, "of course I've heard about you. Everyone has. Here! I'll send over to the saloon for some red-eye. Are you dry?"
He rose, but Calder waved him back to the swivel-chair.
"Not dry a bit," he said cheerily. "Not five minutes ago I had a drink of—water."
"All right," said Hardy, and settled back into his chair.
"Hardy, there's been crooked work around here."
"What in hell—"
"Get your hand away from that gun, friend."
"What the devil's the meaning of all this?"
"That's very well done," said Calder. "But this isn't the stage. Are we going to talk business like friends?"
"I've got nothing agin you," said Hardy testily, and his eyes followed Calder's right hand as if fascinated. "What do you want to say? I'll listen. I'm not very busy."
"That's exactly it," smiled Tex Calder, "I want you to get busier."
"Thanks."
"In the first place I'll be straight with you. Wells Fargo hasn't sent me here."
"Who has?"
"My conscience."
"I don't get your drift."
Through a moment of pause Calder's eyes searched the face of Hardy.
"You've been pretty flush for some time."
"I ain't been starvin'."
"There are several easy ways for you to pick up extra money."
"Yes?"
"For instance, you know all about the Wells Fargo money shipments, and there are men around here who'd pay big for what you could tell them."
The prominent Adam's apple rose and fell in Hardy's throat.
"You're quite a joker, ain't you Calder? Who, for instance?"
"Jim Silent."
"This is like a story in a book," grinned Hardy. "Go on. I supposeI've been takin' Silent's money?"
The answer came like the click of a cocked revolver.
"You have!"
"By God, Calder—"
"Steady! I have some promising evidence, partner. Would you like to hear part of it?"
"This country has its share of the world's greatest liars," saidHardy, "I don't care what you've heard."
"That saves my time. Understand me straight. I can slap you into a lock-up, if I want to, and then bring in that evidence. I'm not going to do it. I'm going to use you as a trap and through you get some of the worst of the lone riders."
"There's nothin' like puttin' your hand on the table."
"No, there isn't. I'll tell you what you're to do."
"Thanks."
The marshal drove straight on.
"I've got four good men in this town. Two of them will always be hanging around your office. Maybe you can get a job for them here, eh? I'll pay the salaries. You simply tip them off when your visitors are riders the government wants, see? You don't have to lift a hand. You just go to the door as the visitor leaves, and if he's all right you say: 'So long, we'll be meeting again before long.' But if he's a man I want, you say 'Good-bye.' That's all. My boys will see that it is good-bye."
"Go on," said the agent, "and tell the rest of the story. It starts well."
"Doesn't it?" agreed Calder, "and the way it concludes is with you reaching over and shaking hands with me and saying 'yes'!"
He leaned forward. The twinkle was gone from his eyes and he extended his hand to Hardy. The latter reached out with an impulsive gesture, wrung the proffered hand, and then slipping back into his chair broke into hysterical laughter.
"The real laugh," said Calder, watching his man narrowly, "will be on the long riders."
"Tex," said the agent. "I guess you have the dope. I won't say anything except that I'm glad as hell to be out of the rotten business at last. Once started I couldn't stop. I did one 'favour' for these devils, and after that they had me in their power. I haven't slept for months as I'm going to sleep tonight!"
He wiped his face with an agitated hand.
"A week ago," he went on, "I knew you were detailed on this work. I've been sweating ever since. Now that you've come—why, I'm glad of it!"
A faint sneer touched Calder's mouth and was gone.
"You're a wise man," he said. "Have you seen much of Jim Silent lately?"
Hardy hesitated. The rôle of informer was new.
"Not directly."
Calder nodded.
"Now put me right if I go off the track. The way I understand it, Jim Silent has about twenty gun fighters and long riders working in gangs under him and combining for big jobs."
"That's about it."
"The inside circle consists of Silent; Lee Haines, a man who went wrong because the law didhimwrong; Hal Purvis, a cunning devil; and Bill Kilduff, a born fighter who loves blood for its own sake."
"Right."
"Here's something more. For Jim Silent, dead or alive, the government will pay ten thousand dollars. For each of the other three it pays five thousand. The notices aren't out yet, but they will be in a few days. Hardy, if you help me bag these men, you'll get fifty per cent of the profits. Are you on?"
The hesitancy of Hardy changed to downright enthusiasm.
"Easy money, Tex. I'm your man, hand and glove."
"Don't get optimistic. This game isn't played yet, and unless I make the biggest mistake of my life we'll be guessing again before we land Silent. I've trailed some fast gunmen in my day, and I have an idea that Silent will be the hardest of the lot; but if you play your end of the game we may land him. I have a tip that he's lying out in the country near Elkhead. I'm riding out alone to get track of him. As I go out I'll tell my men that you're O.K. for this business."
He hesitated a moment with his hand on the door knob.
"Just one thing more, Hardy. I heard a queer tale this morning about a fight in a saloon run by a man named Morgan. Do you know anything about it?"
"No."
"I was told of a fellow who chipped four dollars thrown into the air at twenty yards."
"That's a lie."
"The man who talked to me had a nicked dollar to prove his yarn."
"The devil he did!"
"And after the shooting this chap got into a fight with a tall man twice his size and fairly mopped up the floor with him. They say it wasn't a nice thing to watch. He is a frail man, but when the fight started he turned into a tiger."
"Wish I'd seen it."
"The tall man tallies to a hair with my description of Silent."
"You're wrong. I know what Silent can do with his hands. No one could beat him up. What's the name of the other?"
"Barry. Whistling Dan Barry."
Calder hesitated.
"Right or wrong, I'd like to have this Barry with me. So long."
He was gone as he had come, with a nod and a flash of the keen, black eyes. Lee Hardy stared at the door for some moments, and then went outside. The warm light of the sun had never been more welcome to him. Under that cheering influence he began to feel that with Tex Calder behind him he could safely defy the world.
His confidence received a shock that afternoon when a heavy step crossed the outside room, and his door opening without a preliminary knock, he looked up into the solemn eyes of Jim Silent. The outlaw shook his head when Hardy offered him a chair.
"What's the main idea of them two new men out in your front room,Lee?" he asked.
"Two cowpunchers that was down on their luck. I got to stand in with the boys now and then."
"I s'pose so. Shorty Rhinehart in here to see you, Lee?"
"Yep."
"You told him that the town was gettin' pretty hot."
"It is."
"You said you had no dope on when that delayed shipment was comin' through?"
Hardy made lightning calculations. A half truth would be the best way out.
"I've just got the word you want. It come this morning."
Silent's expression changed and he leaned a little closer.
"It's the nineteenth. Train number 89. Savvy? Seven o'clock atElkhead!"
"How much? Same bunch of coin?"
"Fifty thousand!"
"That's ten more."
"Yep. A new shipment rolled in with the old one. No objections?"
Silent grinned.
"Any other news, Lee?"
"Shorty told you about Tex Calder?"
"He did. Seen him around here?"
The slightest fraction of a second in hesitation.
"No."
"Was that the straight dope you give Shorty?"
"Straighter'n hell. They're beginnin' to talk, but I guess I was jest sort of panicky when I talked with Shorty."
"This Tex Calder——"
"What about him?" This with a trace of suspicion.
"He's got a long record."
"So've you, Jim."
Once more that wolflike grin which had no mirth.
"So long, Lee. I'll be on the job. Lay to that."
He turned towards the door. Hardy followed him. A moment more, in a single word, and the job would be done. Five thousand dollars for a single word! It warmed the very heart of Lee Hardy.
Silent, as he moved away, seemed singularly thoughtful. He hesitated a moment with bowed head at the door—then whirled and shoved a six-gun under the nose of Hardy. The latter leaped back with his arms thrust above his head, straining at his hands to get them higher.
"My God, Jim!"
"You're a low-down, lyin' hound!"
Hardy's tongue clove to the roof of his mouth.
"Damn you, d'you hear me?"
"Yes! For God's sake, Jim, don't shoot!"
"Your life ain't worth a dime!"
"Give me one more chance an' I'll play square!"
A swift change came over the face of Silent, and then Hardy went hot with terror and anger. The long rider had known nothing. The gun play had been a mere bluff, but he had played into the hands of Silent, and now his life was truly worth nothing.
"You poor fool," went on Silent, his voice purring with controlled rage. "You damn blind fool! D'you think you could double cross me an' get by with it?"
"Give me a chance, Jim. One more chance, one more chance!"
Even in his terror he remembered to keep his voice low lest those in the front room should hear.
"Out with it, if you love livin'!"
"I—I can't talk while you got that gun on me!"
Silent not only lowered his gun, but actually returned it to the holster. Nothing could more clearly indicate his contempt, and Hardy, in spite of his fear, crimsoned with shame.
"It was Tex Calder," he said at last.
Silent started a little and his eyes narrowed again.
"What of him?"
"He came here a while ago an' tried to make a deal with me."
"An' made it!" said Silent ominously.
No gun pointed at him this time, but Hardy jerked his hands once more above his head and cowered against the wall.
"So help me God he didn't, Jim."
"Get your hands down."
He lowered his hands slowly.
"I told him I didn't know nothin' about you."
"What about that train? What about that shipment?"
"It's jest the way I told you, except that it's on the eighteenth instead of the nineteenth."
"I'm goin' to believe you. If you double cross me I'll have your hide. Maybe they'll get me, but there'll be enough of my boys left to get you. You can lay to that. How much did they offer you, Lee? How much am I worth to the little old U.S.A.?"
"I—I—it wasn't the money. I was afraid to stick with my game any longer."
The long rider had already turned towards the door, making no effort to keep his face to the agent. The latter, flushing again, moved his hand towards his hip, but stopped the movement. The last threat of Silent carried a deep conviction with it. He knew that the faith of lone riders to each other was an inviolable bond. Accordingly he followed at the heels of the other man into the outside room.
"So long, old timer," he called, slapping Silent on the shoulder,"I'll be seein' you agin before long."
Calder's men looked up with curious eyes. Hardy watched Silent swing onto his horse and gallop down the street. Then he went hurriedly back to his office. Once inside he dropped into the big swivel-chair, buried his face in his arms, and wept like a child.
Dust powdered his hat and clothes as Tex Calder trotted his horse north across the hills. His face was a sickly grey, and his black hair might have been an eighteenth century wig, so thoroughly was it disguised. It had been a long ride. Many a long mile wound back behind him, and still the cattle pony, with hanging head, stuck to its task. Now he was drawing out on a highland, and below him stretched the light yellow-green of the willows of the bottom land. He halted his pony and swung a leg over the horn of his saddle. Then he rolled a cigarette, and while he inhaled it in long puffs he scanned the trees narrowly. Miles across, and stretching east and west farther than his eye could reach, extended the willows. Somewhere in that wilderness was the gang of Jim Silent. An army corps might have been easily concealed there.
If he was not utterly discouraged in the beginning of his search, it was merely because the rangers of the hills and plains are taught patience almost as soon as they learn to ride a horse. He surveyed the yellow-green forest calmly. In the west the low hanging sun turned crimson and bulged at the sides into a clumsy elipse. He started down the slope at the same dog-trot which the pony had kept up all day. Just before he reached the skirts of the trees he brought his horse to a sudden halt and threw back his head. It seemed to him that he heard a faint whistling.
He could not be sure. It was so far off and unlike any whistling he had ever heard before, that he half guessed it to be the movement of a breeze through the willows, but the wind was hardly strong enough to make this sound. For a full five minutes he listened without moving his horse. Then came the thing for which he waited, a phrase of melody undoubtedly from human lips.
What puzzled him most was the nature of the music. As he rode closer to the trees it grew clearer. It was unlike any song he had ever heard. It was a strange improvisation with a touch of both melancholy and savage exultation running through it. Calder found himself nodding in sympathy with the irregular rhythm.
It grew so clear at last that he marked with some accuracy the direction from which it came. If this was Silent's camp, it must be strongly guarded, and he should approach the place more cautiously than he could possibly do on a horse. Accordingly he dismounted, threw the reins over the pony's head, and started on through the willows. The whistling became louder and louder. He moved stealthily from tree to tree, for he had not the least idea when he would run across a guard. The whistling ceased, but the marshal was now so near that he could follow the original direction without much trouble. In a few moments he might distinguish the sound of voices. If there were two or three men in the camp he might be able to surprise them and make his arrest. If the outlaws were many, at least he could lie low near the camp and perhaps learn the plans of the gang. He worked his way forward more and more carefully. At one place he thought a shadowy figure slipped through the brush a short distance away. He poised his gun, but lowered it again after a moment's thought. It must have been a stir of shadows. No human being could move so swiftly or so noiselessly.
Nevertheless the sight gave him such a start that he proceeded with even greater caution. He was crouched close to the ground. Every inch of it he scanned carefully before he set down a foot, fearful of the cracking of a fallen twig. Like most men when they hunt, he began to feel that something followed him. He tried to argue the thought out of his brain, but it persisted, and grew stronger. Half a dozen times he whirled suddenly with his revolver poised. At last he heard a stamp which could come from nothing but the hoof of a horse. The sound dispelled his fears. In another moment he would be in sight of the camp.
"Do you figger you'll find it?" asked a quiet voice behind him.
He turned and looked into the steady muzzle of a Colt. Behind that revolver was a thin, handsome face with a lock of jet black hair falling over the forehead. Calder knew men, and now he felt a strange absence of any desire to attempt a gun-play.
"I was just taking a stroll through the willows," he said, with a mighty attempt at carelessness.
"Oh," said the other. "It appeared to me you was sort of huntin' for something. You was headed straight for my hoss."
Calder strove to find some way out. He could not. There was no waver in the hand that held that black gun. The brown eyes were decidedly discouraging to any attempt at a surprise. He felt helpless for the first time in his career.
"Go over to him, Bart," said the gentle voice of the stranger. "Stand fast!"
The last two words, directed to Calder came, with a metallic hardness, for the marshal started as a great black dog slipped from behind a tree and slunk towards him. This was the shadow which moved more swiftly and noiselessly than a human being.
"Keep back that damned wolf," he said desperately.
"He ain't goin' to hurt you," said the calm voice. "Jest toss your gun to the ground."
There was nothing else for it. Calder dropped his weapon with the butt towards Whistling Dan.
"Bring it here, Bart," said the latter.
The big animal lowered his head, still keeping his green eyes upon Calder, took up the revolver in his white fangs, and glided back to his master.
"Jest turn your back to me, an' keep your hands clear of your body," said Dan.
Calder obeyed, sweating with shame. He felt a hand pat his pockets lightly in search for a hidden weapon, and then, with his head slightly turned, he sensed the fact that Dan was dropping his revolver into its holster. He whirled and drove his clenched fist straight at Dan's face.
What happened then he would never forget to the end of his life. Calder's weapon still hung in Dan's right hand, but the latter made no effort to use it. He dropped the gun, and as Calder's right arm shot out, it was caught at the wrist, and jerked down with a force that jarred his whole body.
"Down, Bart!" shouted Dan. The great wolf checked in the midst of his leap and dropped, whining with eagerness, at Calder's feet. At the same time the marshal's left hand was seized and whipped across his body. He wrenched away with all his force. He might as well have struggled with steel manacles. He was helpless, staring into eyes which now glinted with a yellow light that sent a cold wave tingling through his blood.
The yellow gleam died; his hands were loosed; but he made no move to spring at Dan's throat. Chill horror had taken the place of his shame, and the wolf-dog still whined at his feet with lips grinned back from the long white teeth.
"Who in the name of God are you?" he gasped, and even as he spoke the truth came to him—the whistling—the panther-like speed of hand—"Whistling Dan Barry."
The other frowned.
"If you didn't know my name why were you trailin' me?"
"I wasn't after you," said Calder.
"You was crawlin' along like that jest for fun? Friend, I figger to know you. You been sent out by the tall man to lay for me."
"What tall man?" asked Calder, his wits groping.
"The one that swung the chair in Morgan's place," said Dan. "Now you're goin' to take me to your camp. I got something to say to him."
"By the Lord!" cried the marshal, "you're trailing Silent."
Dan watched him narrowly. It was hard to accuse those keen black eyes of deceit.
"I'm trailin' the man who sent you out after me," he asserted with a little less assurance.
Calder tore open the front of his shirt and pushed back one side of it. Pinned there next to his skin was his marshal's badge.
He said: "My name's Tex Calder."
It was a word to conjure with up and down the vast expanse of the mountain-desert. Dan smiled, and the change of expression made him seem ten years younger.
"Git down, Bart. Stand behind me!" The dog obeyed sullenly. "I've heard a pile of men talk about you, Tex Calder." Their hands and their eyes met. There was a mutual respect in the glances. "An' I'm a pile sorry for this."
He picked up the gun from the ground and extended it butt first to the marshal, who restored it slowly to the holster. It was the first time it had ever been forced from his grasp.
"Who was it you talked about a while ago?" asked Dan.
"Jim Silent."
Dan instinctively dropped his hand back to his revolver.
"The tall man?"
"The one you fought with in Morgan's place."
The unpleasant gleam returned to Dan's eyes.
"I thought there was only one reason why he should die, but now I see there's a heap of 'em."
Calder was all business.
"How long have you been here?" he asked.
"About a day."
"Have you seen anything of Silent here among the willows?"
"No."
"Do you think he's still here?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I dunno. I'll stay here till I find him among the trees or he breaks away into the open."
"How'll you know when he leaves the willows?"
Whistling Dan was puzzled.
"I dunno," he answered. "Somethin' will tell me when he gets far away from me—he an' his men."
"It's an inner sense, eh? Like the smell of the bloodhound?" saidCalder, but his eyes were strangely serious.
"This day's about done," he went on. "Have you any objections to me camping with you here?"
Not a cowpuncher within five hundred miles but would be glad of such redoubted company. They went back to Calder's horse.
"We can start for my clearing," said Dan. "Bart'll bring the hoss.Fetch him in."
The wolf took the dangling bridle reins and led on the cowpony. Calder observed his performance with starting eyes, but he was averse to asking questions. In a few moments they came out on a small open space. The ground was covered with a quantity of dried bunch grass which a glorious black stallion was cropping. Now he tossed up his head so that some of his long mane fell forward between his ears and at sight of Calder his ears dropped back and his eyes blazed, but when Dan stepped from the willows the ears came forward again with a whinny of greeting. Calder watched the beautiful animal with all the enthusiasm of an expert horseman. Satan was untethered; the saddle and bridle lay in a corner of the clearing; evidently the horse was a pet and would not leave its master. He spoke gently and stepped forward to caress the velvet shining neck, but Satan snorted and started away, trembling with excitement.
"How can you keep such a wild fellow as this without hobbling him?" asked Calder.
"He ain't wild," said Dan.
"Why, he won't let me put a hand on him."
"Yes, he will. Steady, Satan!"
The stallion stood motionless with the veritable fires of hell in his eyes as Calder approached. The latter stopped.
"Not for me," he said. "I'd rather rub the moustache of the lion in the zoo than touch that black devil!"
Bart at that moment led in the cowpony and Calder started to remove the saddle. He had scarcely done so and hobbled his horse when he was startled by a tremendous snarling and snorting. He turned to see the stallion plunging hither and thither, striking with his fore-hooves, while around him, darting in and out under the driving feet, sprang the great black wolf, his teeth clashing like steel on steel. In another moment they might sink in the throat of the horse! Calder, with an exclamation of horror, whipped out his revolver, but checked himself at the very instant of firing. The master of the two animals stood with arms folded, actually smiling upon the fight!
"For God's sake!" cried the marshal. "Shoot the damned wolf, man, or he'll have your horse by the throat!"
"Leave 'em be," said Dan, without turning his head. "Satan an' Black Bart ain't got any other dogs an' hosses to run around with. They's jest playing a little by way of exercise."
Calder stood agape before what seemed the incarnate fury of the pair. Then he noticed that those snapping fangs, however close they came, always missed the flesh of the stallion, and the driving hoofs never actually endangered the leaping wolf.
"Stop 'em!" he cried at last. "It makes me nervous to watch that sort of play. It isn't natural!"
"All right," said Dan. "Stop it, boys."
He had not raised his voice, but they ceased their wild gambols instantly, the stallion, with head thrown high and arched tail and heaving sides, while the wolf, with lolling red tongue, strolled calmly towards his master.
The latter paid no further attention to them, but set about kindling a small fire over which to cook supper. Calder joined him. The marshal's mind was too full for speech, but now and again he turned a long glance of wonder upon the stallion or Black Bart. In the same silence they sat under the last light of the sunset and ate their supper. Calder, with head bent, pondered over the man of mystery and his two tamed animals. Tamed? Not one of the three was tamed, the man least of all.
He saw Dan pause from his eating to stare with wide, vacant eyes among the trees. The wolf-dog approached, looked up in his master's face, whined softly, and getting no response went back to his place and lay down, his eyes never moving from Dan. Still he stared among the trees. The gloom deepened, and he smiled faintly. He began to whistle, a low, melancholy strain so soft that it blended with the growing hush of the night. Calder listened, wholly overawed. That weird music seemed an interpretation of the vast spaces of the mountains, of the pitiless desert, of the limitless silences, and the whistler was an understanding part of the whole.
He became aware of a black shadow behind the musician. It was Satan, who rested his nose on the shoulder of the master. Without ceasing his whistling Dan raised a hand, touched the small muzzle, and Satan went at once to a side of the clearing and lay down. It was almost as if the two had said good-night! Calder could stand it no longer.
"Dan, I've got to talk to you," he began.
The whistling ceased; the wide brown eyes turned to him.
"Fire away—partner."
Ay, they had eaten together by the same fire—they had watched the coming of the night—they had shaken hands in friendship—they were partners. He knew deep in his heart that no human being could ever be the actual comrade of this man. This lord of the voiceless desert needed no human companionship; yet as the marshal glanced from the black shadow of Satan to the gleaming eyes of Bart, and then to the visionary face of Barry, he felt that he had been admitted by Whistling Dan into the mysterious company. The thought stirred him deeply. It was as if he had made an alliance with the wandering wind. Why he had been accepted he could not dream, but he had heard the word "partner" and he knew it was meant. After all, stranger things than this happen in the mountain-desert, where man is greater and convention less. A single word has been known to estrange lifelong comrades; a single evening beside a camp-fire has changed foes to partners. Calder drew his mind back to business with a great effort.
"There's one thing you don't know about Jim Silent. A reward of ten thousand dollars lies on his head. The notices aren't posted yet."
Whistling Dan shrugged his shoulders.
"I ain't after money," he answered.
Calder frowned. He did not appreciate a bluff.
"Look here," he said, "if we kill him, because no power on earth will take him alive—we'll split the money."
"If you lay a hand on him," said Dan, without emotion, "we won't be friends no longer, I figger."
Calder stared.
"If you don't want to get him," he said, "why in God's name are you trailing him this way?"
Dan touched his lips. "He hit me with his fist."
He paused, and spoke again with a drawling voice that gave his words an uncanny effect.
"My blood went down from my mouth to my chin. I tasted it. Till I get him there ain't no way of me forgettin' him."
His eyes lighted with that ominous gleam.
"That's why no other man c'n put a hand on him. He's laid out all for me. Understand?"
The ring of the question echoed for a moment through Calder's mind.
"I certainly do," he said with profound conviction, "and I'll never forget it." He decided on a change of tactics. "But there are other men with Jim Silent and those men will fight to keep you from getting to him."
"I'm sorry for 'em," said Dan gently. "I ain't got nothin' agin any one except the big man."
Calder took a long breath.
"Don't you see," he explained carefully, "if you shoot one of these men you are simply a murderer who must be apprehended by the law and punished."
"It makes it bad for me, doesn't it?" said Dan. "An' I hope I won't have to hurt more'n one or two of 'em. You see,"—he leaned forward seriously towards Calder—"I'd only shoot for their arms or their legs. I wouldn't spoil them altogether."
Calder threw up his hands in despair. Black Bart snarled at the gesture.
"I can't listen no more," said Dan. "I got to start explorin' the willows pretty soon."
"In the dark?" exclaimed Calder.
"Sure. Black Bart'll go with me. The dark don't bother him."
"I'll go along."
"I'd rather be alone. I might meet him."
"Any way you want," said Calder, "but first hear my plan—it doesn't take long to tell it."
The darkness thickened around them while he talked. The fire died out—the night swallowed up their figures.
When Lee Haines rode into Silent's camp that evening no questions were asked. Questions were not popular among the long riders. He did not know more than the names of half the men who sat around the smoky fire. They were eager to forget the past, and the only allusions to former times came in chance phrases which they let fall at rare intervals. When they told an anecdote they erased all names by instinct. They would begin: "I heard about a feller over to the Circle Y outfit that was once ridin'—" etc. As a rule they themselves were "that feller over to the Circle Y outfit." Accordingly only a few grunts greeted Haines and yet he was far and away the most popular man in the group. Even solemn-eyed Jim Silent was partial to the handsome fellow.
"Heard the whistling today?" he asked.
Purvis shook his head and Terry Jordan allowed "as how it was most uncommon fortunate that this Barry feller didn't start his noise." After this Haines ate his supper in silence, his ear ready to catch the first sound of Kate's horse as it crashed through the willows and shrubs. Nevertheless it was Shorty Rhinehart who sprang to his feet first.
"They's a hoss there comin' among the willows!" he announced.
"Maybe it's Silent," remarked Haines casually.
"The chief don't make no such a noise. He picks his goin'," answeredHal Purvis.
The sound was quite audible now.
"They's been some crooked work," said Rhinehart excitedly. "Somebody's tipped off the marshals about where we're lyin'."
"All right," said Haines quietly, "you and I will investigate."
They started through the willows. Rhinehart was cursing beneath his breath.
"Don't be too fast with your six-gun," warned Haines.
"I'd rather be too early than too late."
"Maybe it isn't a marshal. If a man were looking for us he'd be a fool to come smashing along like that."
He had scarcely spoken when Kate came into view.
"A girl, by God!" said Rhinehart, with mingled relief and disgust.
"Sure thing," agreed Haines.
"Let's beat it back to the camp."
"Not a hope. She's headed straight for the camp. We'll take her in and tell her we're a bunch from the Y Circle X outfit headed north. She'll never know the difference."
"Good idea," said Rhinehart, and he added with a chuckle, "it's been nigh three months since I've talked to a piece of calico."
"Hey, there!" called Haines, and he stepped out with Rhinehart before her horse.
"Oh!" cried Kate, reining up her horse sharply. "Who are you?"
"A beaut!" muttered Rhinehart in devout admiration.
"We're from the Y Circle X outfit," said Haines glibly, "camping over here for the night. Are you lost, lady?"
"I guess I am. I thought I could get across the willows before the night fell. I'm trying to find a man who rode in this direction."
"Come on into the camp," said Haines easily. "Maybe some of the boys can put you on his track. What sort of a looking fellow is he?"
"Rides a black horse and whistles a good deal. His name is Barry. They call him Whistling Dan."
"By God!" whispered Rhinehart in the ear of Haines.
"Shut up!" answered Haines in the same tone. "Are you afraid of a girl?"
"I've trailed him south this far," went on Kate, "and a few miles away from here I lost track of him. I think he may have gone on across the willows."
"Haven't seen him," said Rhinehart amiably. "But come on to the camp, lady. Maybe one of the boys has spotted him on the way. What's your name?"
"Kate Cumberland," she answered.
He removed his hat with a broad grin and reached up a hand to her.
"I'm most certainly glad to meet you, an' my name's Shorty. This here is Lee. Want to come along with us?"
"Thank you. I'm a little worried."
"'S all right. Don't get worried. We'll show you the way out. Just follow us."
They started back through the willows, Kate following half a dozen yards behind.
"Listen here, Shorty," said Haines in a cautious voice. "You heard her name?"
"Sure."
"Well, that's the daughter of the man that raised Whistling Dan. I saw her at Morgan's place. She's probably been tipped off that he's following Silent, but she has no idea who we are."
"Sure she hasn't. She's a great looker, eh, Lee?"
"She'll do, I guess. Now get this: The girl is after Whistling Dan, and if she meets him she'll persuade him to come back to her father's place. She'll take him off our trail, and I guess none of us'll be sorry to know that he's gone, eh?"
"I begin to follow you, Lee. You've always had the head!"
"All right. Now we'll get Purvis to tell the girl that he's heard a peculiar whistling around here this evening. We'll advise her to stick around and go out when she hears the whistling again. That way she'll meet him and head him off, savvy?"
"Right," said Rhinehart.
"Then beat it ahead as fast as you can and wise up the boys."
"That's me—specially about their bein' Y Circle X fellers, eh?"
He chuckled and made ahead as fast as his long legs could carry him.Haines dropped back beside Kate.
"Everything goes finely," he assured her. "I told Rhinehart what to do. He's gone ahead to the camp. Now all you have to do is to keep your head. One of the boys will tell you that we've heard some whistling near the camp this evening. Then I'll ask you to stay around for a while in case the whistling should sound again, do you see? Remember, never ask a question!"
It was even more simple than Haines had hoped. Silent's men suspected nothing. After all, Kate's deception was a small affair, and her frankness, her laughter, and her beauty carried all before her.
The long riders became quickly familiar with her, but through their rough talk, the Westerners' reverence for a woman ran like a thread of gold over a dark cloth. Her fear lessened and almost passed away while she listened to their talk and watched their faces. The kindly human nature which had lain unexpressed in most of them for months together burst out torrent-like and flooded about her with a sense of security and power. These were conquerors of men, fighters by instinct and habit, but here they sat laughing and chattering with a helpless girl, and not a one of them but would have cut the others' throats rather than see her come to harm. The roughness of their past and the dread of their future they laid aside like an ugly cloak while they showed her what lies in the worst man's heart—a certain awe of woman. Their manners underwent a sudden change. Polite words, rusted by long disuse, were resurrected in her honour. Tremendous phrases came labouring forth. There was a general though covert rearranging of bandanas, and an interchange of self-conscious glances. Haines alone seemed impervious to her charm.
The red died slowly along the west. There was no light save the flicker of the fire, which played on Kate's smile and the rich gold of her hair, or caught out of the dark one of the lean, hard faces which circled her. Now and then it fell on the ghastly grin of Terry Jordan and Kate had to clench her hand to keep up her nerve.
It was deep night when Jim Silent rode into the clearing. Shorty Rhinehart and Hal Purvis went to him quickly to explain the presence of the girl and the fact that they were all members of the Y Circle X outfit. He responded with nods while his gloomy eyes held fast on Kate. When they presented him as the boss, Jim, he replied to her good-natured greeting in a voice that was half grunt and half growl.