From the broken door of the ruinous shack Gus Norman looked up to the hills. Behind them his men were gathering, drifting slowly toward the hollow between the hills and the double-eared peak which rose like a mule's head. It was a black mountain now, with the rising light of the day behind it. The sun was well up; in a few minutes, now, he could ride to that hollow and find his men waiting, all the proven twenty who had started on the ride. Now that he was in the place, he was more satisfied with it than ever. The shack lay in a roughly cut bowl, with a rim of higher ground all around that would give perfect protection to his riflemen in point-blank range of their target. Even if Dreer sought protection in the hut, having avoided the first volley, he would be a lost man. Through those rotten walls a rifle bullet would range from side to side. They could honeycomb the shack in five minutes of concentrated fire, half of them aiming breast-high and half shooting at the level of the floor, in case he tried to lie down.
No wonder, then, that Gus was smiling when he turned back into the hut. Dreer had kindled a fire and was warming his hands over it. He kept his face religiously toward Gus Norman. Early in the night Gus Norman had noted this. Indeed, he had had flashes of hope that events would turn out so that he could take this celebrity single-handed and gain the glory all for himself. One moment of carelessness, and his gun would flash and speak.
But that moment never came. If Dreer had to turn his head, it was only for the split part of a second before he had his eyes on the other once more. And Gus Norman began to respect his companion as much as he hated him. Just as a dog, say, might respect a wolf.
“The time's almost here,” he said, turning from the hills. “The boys will be waiting for me up yonder, pretty soon.”
“Rainier,” answered Dreer, “the thing I don't understand is why you didn't have 'em meet here in the cabin.”
“Because I don't like to have 'em meet until I'm with 'em. Each one of them boys, Dreer, knows that he's to ride to the hollow yonder, and that he's going to meet me there, but about three of 'em don't know the others in the crowd. That's my system. I play a lone hand. I let in the other boys, one by one, on part of the game, but I keep everything dark except just the part each one is going to play.”
“Not a bad idea. I suppose Hank is one of the new men?”
“Yep, he's new, right enough.”
“And raw, Rainier. I'm surprised that you use a boy like that.”
“I'll tell you what, Dreer. I was a fool to send him to you with that letter. I might of knowed that he'd try to talk too much or something like that. But he'd been on my hands for a long time without doing nothing. He wanted to earn his salt. So I told him to go along and fetch that letter to you.”
“He told me it was that way. But he looked like a rat in a trap. Couldn't meet my eye.”
“You scared him, Dreer. Same as you scare most of 'em. Tell you what, when I told a couple of the boys that I was aiming to get you in on my next job, they acted like a cyclone had hit 'em. Acted as though you ate men alive.”
“And why the devil do you want me, Rainier?”
“Because you're a good man to have, Dreer. You can keep a cool head. We'll strike up a partnership before we're through.”
“Not in a thousand years. I've told you that before. I'm in on this one job, and the only reason I'm in on it is because my pal, Dan Carrol, has begged me to go through for him. After this I'm out.”
“Wait till you count the easy money, Dreer. I've heard others talk like you until we've got the can opened and the stuff in our pockets. Then they change.”
He turned toward the door again.
“I wonder if it ain't time to go now?”
“You seem sort of anxious to see them boys,” remarked the outlaw suspiciously.
“Fact is,” replied Gus Norman, “that they's a couple of 'em I ain't laid eyes on for a long time. I'm kind of homesick for 'em.”
He went to the wall and took down a saddle from the peg.
“Well, I'm off, Dreer. Back inside of half an hour.”
“Take your time. But what's that?”
A heavy matting of grass covered most of the valley, muffling the sound of all who approached, but near the cabin there was a gravel coating to the ground. On this gravel, now, came the loud clatter of a galloping horse, and rushed on the cabin. Both men faced the door, but neither of them had time to reach it, when a foaming horse lunged into view and from the saddle leaped a slender youth, who staggered when his feet struck the ground. He recovered himself, turned toward the cabin, and Dreer saw the face of Mary Valentine.
“Oh, Jess,” she cried hysterically. “I'm in time. But watch him!”
There had been one convulsive movement on the part of Gus Norman, but now he apparently saw that it would be impossible for him to reach his horse and escape. He stood with a sullen face in the corner.
“Rainier?” said the girl. She entered the cabin and stood with her feet braced, her legs trembling with weariness.
“He's no more Rainier than I am. Rainier is a mere robber. That man is a sneaking murderer, Jess. That's Gus Norman.”
“My, my,” said Jess Dreer softly, but his face was black. “I been thinking you was a little wrong, Gus Norman, but I never come within miles of guessing. Not within miles!”
“You got me two to one,” said Gus Norman, fixing his eyes on the girl. “You got me cornered; I'll talk turkey.”
“Not two to one,” said Jess Dreer. “Not by no means. One of us is a girl, Gus Norman. I'll send her out of the cabin, and you and me can finish up with a little chat man to man. Eh?”
Norman's mouth worked convulsively behind his beard. For one instant his wolfish face grew so savage that it seemed he was about to draw, but he controlled himself.
“No use,” he said doggedly. “I won't fight you, Dreer. I ain't a trained man-killer, and you know it. Nope, I ain't got you, yet, but you ain't got me. I'll tell you why. The minute they's a gun fired, Dreer, them hills will come alive. They'll be twenty men come hopping for this cabin. You're a hard man, Dreer, but d' you think you could get twenty fighting men?”
“No, son. We split fifty-fifty. You can go out with me, and I'll call the boys off. That's square.”
“Except that you lie,” broke in Mary Valentine. “Don't you see it in his little animal eyes, Jess? The truth is that his gang of Normans and Sheriff Claney are all cached up yonder, between the ears of that mountain. They're waiting until they get his signal that you're here, and they aren't expected to be there, waiting, until an hour after sunrise. That was the plan.”
Jess Dreer watched Norman silently, and under that stare the older man backed up slowly until his shoulders struck the wall.
“Just step out to my saddle and get me the coil of rope you find on it, will you, Mary.”
She obeyed; and a minute later Norman was trussed beyond hope of movement.
“I'd ought to kill you, Norman,” said Jess, “but I leave butchering for the slaughterhouses.”
He turned to the girl at last. Until now he had given her not a word of welcome, but now, as his glance went slowly, leisurely over her, words became too light for use.
Her hair had fallen loose under the brim of her hat; from one white arm the sleeve had been torn; and now she was shrinking into the shadow, as if ashamed of her man's dress.
“Mary,” he said at last, “what have you done for me?”
“It was the short cut that brought me here; I thought it was too late when I got the news, but now—I'm here, Jess, and you're safe! I've been thinking on the way—I've been seeing you—dead! You see? You seem more of ghost than real right now.”
He raised his hand to stop her, growing thoughtful. And his lean face puckered until one might have thought that he was becoming angry.
“You rode through the mountains from the ranch? You did it at night?”
“There was the moon—almost as bright as day, Jess.”
“I didn't know they was any women like you, Mary. I didn't know they was even any men.”
“But stay away, Jess. Stay away! I'm afraid of you! Don't come stalking at me like that!”
“I was going to shake hands,” said Jess Dreer, “to show the world in general, and mostly to show you, that Jess Dreer has a pal at last. And heavens, girl, but I've led a lonesome life.”
A smile began to tremble on her lips—surely she had never been so lovely as she was now in the shadow, in those ragged clothes—but the hand which she extended toward him was arrested halfway.
“Jess!” she screamed, looking past him. “Caswell!”
He whirled as the first word left her lips; whirled toward Caswell, who stood, gun in hand, at the door; and the marvel of it was that he was able to get his gun from the holster and fire before Caswell could send home his shot. He fired, and the sheriff wavered as though he had been struck with a fist; then his own gun spoke, and there was a clangor of steel. The revolver flew out of the hand of Jess Dreer, struck the wall, and dropped with a clatter on the floor, while Jess Dreer stood staring stupidly down at his disarmed hand.
Mary, with a wail of terror, caught out her own weapon, but the slow voice of Dreer stopped her.
“Put away that gun, Mary. You see, Caswell ain't like that thing in the corner. He's a man, and he won't fight a woman. So just put up your gun. I reckon this little play is all over.”
