To the Last Man

by Zane Grey

  CHAPTER IX

  Half a mile from the Isbel ranch the cavalcade passed the log cabin ofEvarts, father of the boy who had tended sheep with Bernardino.

  It suited Gaston Isbel to halt here. No need to call! Evarts and hisson appeared so quickly as to convince observers that they had beenwatching.

  "Howdy, Jake!" said Isbel. "I'm wantin' a word with y'u alone."

  "Shore, boss, git down an' come in," replied Evarts.

  Isbel led him aside, and said something forcible that Jean divined fromthe very gesture which accompanied it. His father was telling Evartsthat he was not to join in the Isbel-Jorth war. Evarts had worked forthe Isbels a long time, and his faithfulness, along with somethingstronger and darker, showed in his rugged face as he stubbornly opposedIsbel. The old man raised his voice: "No, I tell you. An' thatsettles it."

  They returned to the horses, and, before mounting, Isbel, as if heremembered something, directed his somber gaze on young Evarts.

  "Son, did you bury Bernardino?"

  "Dad an' me went over yestiddy," replied the lad. "I shore was gladthe coyotes hadn't been round."

  "How aboot the sheep?"

  "I left them there. I was goin' to stay, but bein' all alone--I gotskeered.... The sheep was doin' fine. Good water an' some grass. An'this ain't time fer varmints to hang round."

  "Jake, keep your eye on that flock," returned Isbel. "An' if Ishouldn't happen to come back y'u can call them sheep yours.... I'dlike your boy to ride up to the village. Not with us, so anybody wouldsee him. But afterward. We'll be at Abel Meeker's."

  Again Jean was confronted with an uneasy premonition as to some idea orplan his father had not shared with his followers. When the cavalcadestarted on again Jean rode to his father's side and asked him why hehad wanted the Evarts boy to come to Grass Valley. And the old manreplied that, as the boy could run to and fro in the village withoutdanger, he might be useful in reporting what was going on at Greaves'sstore, where undoubtedly the Jorth gang would hold forth. This appearedreasonable enough, therefore Jean smothered the objection he had meantto make.

  The valley road was deserted. When, a mile farther on, the riderspassed a group of cabins, just on the outskirts of the village, Jean'squick eye caught sight of curious and evidently frightened peopletrying to see while they avoided being seen. No doubt the wholesettlement was in a state of suspense and terror. Not unlikely thisdark, closely grouped band of horsemen appeared to them as Jorth's ganghad looked to Jean. It was an orderly, trotting march that manifestedneither hurry nor excitement. But any Western eye could have caughtthe singular aspect of such a group, as if the intent of the riders wasa visible thing.

  Soon they reached the outskirts of the village. Here their approachbad been watched for or had been already reported. Jean saw men,women, children peeping from behind cabins and from half-opened doors.Farther on Jean espied the dark figures of men, slipping out the backway through orchards and gardens and running north, toward the centerof the village. Could these be friends of the Jorth crowd, on the waywith warnings of the approach of the Isbels? Jean felt convinced ofit. He was learning that his father had not been absolutely correct inhis estimation of the way Jorth and his followers were regarded bytheir neighbors. Not improbably there were really many villagers who,being more interested in sheep raising than in cattle, had an honestleaning toward the Jorths. Some, too, no doubt, had leanings that weredishonest in deed if not in sincerity.

  Gaston Isbel led his clan straight down the middle of the wide road ofGrass Valley until he reached a point opposite Abel Meeker's cabin.Jean espied the same curiosity from behind Meeker's door and windows ashad been shown all along the road. But presently, at Isbel's call, thedoor opened and a short, swarthy man appeared. He carried a rifle.

  "Howdy, Gass!" he said. "What's the good word?"

  "Wal, Abel, it's not good, but bad. An' it's shore started," repliedIsbel. "I'm askin' y'u to let me have your cabin."

  "You're welcome. I'll send the folks 'round to Jim's," returnedMeeker. "An' if y'u want me, I'm with y'u, Isbel."

  "Thanks, Abel, but I'm not leadin' any more kin an' friends into thisheah deal."

  "Wal, jest as y'u say. But I'd like damn bad to jine with y'u.... Mybrother Ted was shot last night."

  "Ted! Is he daid?" ejaculated Isbel, blankly.

  "We can't find out," replied Meeker. "Jim says thet Jeff Campbell saidthet Ted went into Greaves's place last night. Greaves allus wasfriendly to Ted, but Greaves wasn't thar--"

  "No, he shore wasn't," interrupted Isbel, with a dark smile, "an' henever will be there again."

  Meeker nodded with slow comprehension and a shade crossed his face.

  "Wal, Campbell claimed he'd heerd from some one who was thar. Anyway,the Jorths were drinkin' hard, an' they raised a row with Ted--same oldsheep talk an' somebody shot him. Campbell said Ted was thrown outback, an' he was shore he wasn't killed."

  "Ahuh! Wal, I'm sorry, Abel, your family had to lose in this. MaybeTed's not bad hurt. I shore hope so.... An' y'u an' Jim keep out ofthe fight, anyway."

  "All right, Isbel. But I reckon I'll give y'u a hunch. If this heahfight lasts long the whole damn Basin will be in it, on one side ort'other."

  "Abe, you're talkin' sense," broke in Blaisdell. "An' that's why we'reup heah for quick action."

  "I heerd y'u got Daggs," whispered Meeker, as he peered all around.

  "Wal, y'u heerd correct," drawled Blaisdell.

  Meeker muttered strong words into his beard. "Say, was Daggs in thetJorth outfit?"

  "He WAS. But he walked right into Jean's forty-four.... An' I reckonhis carcass would show some more."

  "An' whar's Guy Isbel?" demanded Meeker.

  "Daid an' buried, Abel," replied Gaston Isbel. "An' now I'd be obligedif y'u 'll hurry your folks away, an' let us have your cabin an'corral. Have yu got any hay for the hosses?"

  "Shore. The barn's half full," replied Meeker, as he turned away."Come on in."

  "No. We'll wait till you've gone."

  When Meeker had gone, Isbel and his men sat their horses and lookedabout them and spoke low. Their advent had been expected, and thelittle town awoke to the imminence of the impending battle. InsideMeeker's house there was the sound of indistinct voices of women andthe bustle incident to a hurried vacating.

  Across the wide road people were peering out on all sides, some hiding,others walking to and fro, from fence to fence, whispering in littlegroups. Down the wide road, at the point where it turned, stoodGreaves's fort-like stone house. Low, flat, isolated, with its dark,eye-like windows, it presented a forbidding and sinister aspect. Jeandistinctly saw the forms of men, some dark, others in shirt sleeves,come to the wide door and look down the road.

  "Wal, I reckon only aboot five hundred good hoss steps are separatin'us from that outfit," drawled Blaisdell.

  No one replied to his jocularity. Gaston Isbel's eyes narrowed to aslit in his furrowed face and he kept them fastened upon Greaves'sstore. Blue, likewise, had a somber cast of countenance, not, perhaps,any darker nor grimmer than those of his comrades, but morerepresentative of intense preoccupation of mind. The look of himthrilled Jean, who could sense its deadliness, yet could not grasp anymore. Altogether, the manner of the villagers and the watchful pacingto and fro of the Jorth followers and the silent, boding front of Isbeland his men summed up for Jean the menace of the moment that must verysoon change to a terrible reality.

  At a call from Meeker, who stood at the back of the cabin, Gaston Isbelrode into the yard, followed by the others of his party. "Somebodylook after the hosses," ordered Isbel, as he dismounted and took hisrifle and pack. "Better leave the saddles on, leastways till we seewhat's comin' off."

  Jean and Bill Isbel led the horses back to the corral. While wateringand feeding them, Jean somehow received the impression that Bill wastrying to speak, to confide in him, to unburden himself of some load.This peculiarity of Bill's had become marked when he
was perfectlysober. Yet he had never spoken or even begun anything unusual. Uponthe present occasion, however, Jean believed that his brother mighthave gotten rid of his emotion, or whatever it was, had they not beeninterrupted by Colmor.

  "Boys, the old man's orders are for us to sneak round on three sides ofGreaves's store, keepin' out of gunshot till we find good cover, an'then crawl closer an' to pick off any of Jorth's gang who showshimself."

  Bill Isbel strode off without a reply to Colmor.

  "Well, I don't think so much of that," said Jean, ponderingly. "Jorthhas lots of friends here. Somebody might pick us off."

  "I kicked, but the old man shut me up. He's not to be bucked ag'in'now. Struck me as powerful queer. But no wonder."

  "Maybe he knows best. Did he say anythin' about what he an' the restof them are goin' to do?"

  "Nope. Blue taxed him with that an' got the same as me. I reckon we'dbetter try it out, for a while, anyway."

  "Looks like he wants us to keep out of the fight," replied Jean,thoughtfully. "Maybe, though ... Dad's no fool. Colmor, you wait heretill I get out of sight. I'll go round an' come up as close asadvisable behind Greaves's store. You take the right side. An' keephid."

  With that Jean strode off, going around the barn, straight out theorchard lane to the open flat, and then climbing a fence to the northof the village. Presently he reached a line of sheds and corrals, towhich he held until he arrived at the road. This point was about aquarter of a mile from Greaves's store, and around the bend. Jeansighted no one. The road, the fields, the yards, the backs of thecabins all looked deserted. A blight had settled down upon thepeaceful activities of Grass Valley. Crossing the road, Jean began tocircle until he came close to several cabins, around which he made awide detour. This took him to the edge of the slope, where brush andthickets afforded him a safe passage to a line directly back ofGreaves's store. Then he turned toward it. Soon he was againapproaching a cabin of that side, and some of its inmates descried him,Their actions attested to their alarm. Jean half expected a shot fromthis quarter, such were his growing doubts, but he was mistaken. Aman, unknown to Jean, closely watched his guarded movements and thenwaved a hand, as if to signify to Jean that he had nothing to fear.After this act he disappeared. Jean believed that he had beenrecognized by some one not antagonistic to the Isbels. Therefore hepassed the cabin and, coming to a thick scrub-oak tree that offeredshelter, he hid there to watch. From this spot he could see the backof Greaves's store, at a distance probably too far for a rifle bulletto reach. Before him, as far as the store, and on each side, extendedthe village common. In front of the store ran the road. Jean'sposition was such that he could not command sight of this road downtoward Meeker's house, a fact that disturbed him. Not satisfied withthis stand, he studied his surroundings in the hope of espying abetter. And he discovered what he thought would be a more favorableposition, although he could not see much farther down the road. Jeanwent back around the cabin and, coming out into the open to the right,he got the corner of Greaves's barn between him and the window of thestore. Then he boldly hurried into the open, and soon reached an oldwagon, from behind which he proposed to watch. He could not see eitherwindow or door of the store, but if any of the Jorth contingent cameout the back way they would be within reach of his rifle. Jean tookthe risk of being shot at from either side.

  So sharp and roving was his sight that he soon espied Colmor slippingalong behind the trees some hundred yards to the left. All his effortsto catch a glimpse of Bill, however, were fruitless. And this appearedstrange to Jean, for there were several good places on the right fromwhich Bill could have commanded the front of Greaves's store and thewhole west side.

  Colmor disappeared among some shrubbery, and Jean seemed left alone towatch a deserted, silent village. Watching and listening, he felt thatthe time dragged. Yet the shadows cast by the sun showed him that, nomatter how tense he felt and how the moments seemed hours, they werereally flying.

  Suddenly Jean's ears rang with the vibrant shock of a rifle report. Hejerked up, strung and thrilling. It came from in front of the store.It was followed by revolver shots, heavy, booming. Three he counted,and the rest were too close together to enumerate. A single hoarseyell pealed out, somehow trenchant and triumphant. Other yells, not sowild and strange, muffled the first one. Then silence clapped down onthe store and the open square.

  Jean was deadly certain that some of the Jorth clan would showthemselves. He strained to still the trembling those sudden shots andthat significant yell had caused him. No man appeared. No more soundscaught Jean's ears. The suspense, then, grew unbearable. It was notthat he could not wait for an enemy to appear, but that he could notwait to learn what had happened. Every moment that he stayed there,with hands like steel on his rifle, with eyes of a falcon, but added toa dreadful, dark certainty of disaster. A rifle shot swiftly followedby revolver shots! What could, they mean? Revolver shots of differentcaliber, surely fired by different men! What could they mean? It wasnot these shots that accounted for Jean's dread, but the yell which hadfollowed. All his intelligence and all his nerve were not sufficientto fight down the feeling of calamity. And at last, yielding to it, heleft his post, and ran like a deer across the open, through the cabinyard, and around the edge of the slope to the road. Here his cautionbrought him to a halt. Not a living thing crossed his vision. Breakinginto a run, he soon reached the back of Meeker's place and entered, tohurry forward to the cabin.

  Colmor was there in the yard, breathing hard, his face working, and infront of him crouched several of the men with rifles ready. The road,to Jean's flashing glance, was apparently deserted. Blue sat on thedoorstep, lighting a cigarette. Then on the moment Blaisdell strode tothe door of the cabin. Jean had never seen him look like that.

  "Jean--look--down the road," he said, brokenly, and with big handshaking he pointed down toward Greaves's store.

  Like lightning Jean's glance shot down--down--down--until it stopped tofix upon the prostrate form of a man, lying in the middle of the road.A man of lengthy build, shirt-sleeved arms flung wide, white head inthe dust--dead! Jean's recognition was as swift as his sight. Hisfather! They had killed him! The Jorths! It was done. His father'spremonition of death had not been false. And then, after theseflashing thoughts, came a sense of blankness, momentarily almostoblivion, that gave place to a rending of the heart. That pain Jeanhad known only at the death of his mother. It passed, this agonizingpang, and its icy pressure yielded to a rushing gust of blood, fiery ashell.

  "Who--did it?" whispered Jean.

  "Jorth!" replied Blaisdell, huskily. "Son, we couldn't hold your dadback.... We couldn't. He was like a lion.... An' he throwed his lifeaway! Oh, if it hadn't been for that it 'd not be so awful. Shore, wecome heah to shoot an' be shot. But not like that.... By God, it wasmurder--murder!"

  Jean's mute lips framed a query easily read.

  "Tell him, Blue. I cain't," continued Blaisdell, and he tramped backinto the cabin.

  "Set down, Jean, an' take things easy," said Blue, calmly. "You knowwe all reckoned we'd git plugged one way or another in this deal. An'shore it doesn't matter much how a fellar gits it. All thet ought tobother us is to make shore the other outfit bites the dust--same asyour dad had to."

  Under this man's tranquil presence, all the more quieting because itseemed to be so deadly sure and cool, Jean felt the uplift of his darkspirit, the acceptance of fatality, the mounting control of facultiesthat must wait. The little gunman seemed to have about his inertpresence something that suggested a rattlesnake's inherent knowledge ofits destructiveness. Jean sat down and wiped his clammy face.

  "Jean, your dad reckoned to square accounts with Jorth, an' save usall," began Blue, puffing out a cloud of smoke. "But he reckoned toolate. Mebbe years; ago--or even not long ago--if he'd called Jorth outman to man there'd never been any Jorth-Isbel war. Gaston Isbel'sconscience woke too late. That's how I figger it."

 
"Hurry! Tell me--how it--happen," panted Jean.

  "Wal, a little while after y'u left I seen your dad writin' on a leafhe tore out of a book--Meeker's Bible, as yu can see. I thought thetwas funny. An' Blaisdell gave me a hunch. Pretty soon along comesyoung Evarts. The old man calls him out of our hearin' an' talks tohim. Then I seen him give the boy somethin', which I afterward figgeredwas what he wrote on the leaf out of the Bible. Me an' Blaisdell bothtried to git out of him what thet meant. But not a word. I keptwatchin' an' after a while I seen young Evarts slip out the back way.Mebbe half an hour I seen a bare-legged kid cross, the road an' go intoGreaves's store.... Then shore I tumbled to your dad. He'd sent a noteto Jorth to come out an' meet him face to face, man to man! ... Shoreit was like readin' what your dad had wrote. But I didn't say nothin'to Blaisdell. I jest watched."

  Blue drawled these last words, as if he enjoyed remembrance of his keenreasoning. A smile wreathed his thin lips. He drew twice on thecigarette and emitted another cloud of smoke. Quite suddenly then hechanged. He made a rapid gesture--the whip of a hand, significant andpassionate. And swift words followed:

  "Colonel Lee Jorth stalked out of the store--out into the road--mebbe ahundred steps. Then he halted. He wore his long black coat an' hiswide black hat, an' he stood like a stone.

  "'What the hell!' burst out Blaisdell, comin' out of his trance.

  "The rest of us jest looked. I'd forgot your dad, for the minnit. Sohad all of us. But we remembered soon enough when we seen him stalkout. Everybody had a hunch then. I called him. Blaisdell begged himto come back. All the fellars; had a say. No use! Then I shore cussedhim an' told him it was plain as day thet Jorth didn't hit me like anhonest man. I can sense such things. I knew Jorth had trick up hissleeve. I've not been a gun fighter fer nothin'.

  "Your dad had no rifle. He packed his gun at his hip. He jest stalkeddown thet road like a giant, goin' faster an' faster, holdin' his headhigh. It shore was fine to see him. But I was sick. I heerdBlaisdell groan, an' Fredericks thar cussed somethin' fierce.... Whenyour dad halted--I reckon aboot fifty steps from Jorth--then we allwent numb. I heerd your dad's voice--then Jorth's. They cut likeknives. Y'u could shore heah the hate they hed fer each other."

  Blue had become a little husky. His speech had grown gradually todenote his feeling. Underneath his serenity there was a differentorder of man.

  "I reckon both your dad an' Jorth went fer their guns at the sametime--an even break. But jest as they drew, some one shot a rifle fromthe store. Must hev been a forty-five seventy. A big gun! The bulletmust have hit your dad low down, aboot the middle. He acted thet way,sinkin' to his knees. An' he was wild in shootin'--so wild thet hemust hev missed. Then he wabbled--an' Jorth run in a dozen steps,shootin' fast, till your dad fell over.... Jorth run closer, bent overhim, an' then straightened up with an Apache yell, if I ever heerdone.... An' then Jorth backed slow--lookin' all the time--backed to thestore, an' went in."

  Blue's voice ceased. Jean seemed suddenly released from an impellingmagnet that now dropped him to some numb, dizzy depth. Blue's leanface grew hazy. Then Jean bowed his head in his hands, and sat there,while a slight tremor shook all his muscles at once. He grew deathlycold and deathly sick. This paroxysm slowly wore away, and Jean grewconscious of a dull amaze at the apparent deadness of his spirit.Blaisdell placed a huge, kindly hand on his shoulder.

  "Brace up, son!" he said, with voice now clear and resonant. "Shoreit's what your dad expected--an' what we all must look for.... If yuwas goin' to kill Jorth before--think how -- -- shore y'u're goin' tokill him now."

  "Blaisdell's talkin'," put in Blue, and his voice had a cold ring. "LeeJorth will never see the sun rise ag'in!"

  These calls to the primitive in Jean, to the Indian, were not in vain.But even so, when the dark tide rose in him, there was still a hauntingconsciousness of the cruelty of this singular doom imposed upon him.Strangely Ellen Jorth's face floated back in the depths of his vision,pale, fading, like the face of a spirit floating by.

  "Blue," said Blaisdell, "let's get Isbel's body soon as we dare, an'bury it. Reckon we can, right after dark."

  "Shore," replied Blue. "But y'u fellars figger thet out. I'm thinkin'hard. I've got somethin' on my mind."

  Jean grew fascinated by the looks and speech and action of the littlegunman. Blue, indeed, had something on his mind. And it boded ill tothe men in that dark square stone house down the road. He paced to andfro in the yard, back and forth on the path to the gate, and then heentered the cabin to stalk up and down, faster and faster, until all atonce he halted as if struck, to upfling his right arm in a singularfierce gesture.

  "Jean, call the men in," he said, tersely.

  They all filed in, sinister and silent, with eager faces turned to thelittle Texan. His dominance showed markedly.

  "Gordon, y'u stand in the door an' keep your eye peeled," went on Blue."... Now, boys, listen! I've thought it all out. This game of manhuntin' is the same to me as cattle raisin' is to y'u. An' my life inTexas all comes back to me, I reckon, in good stead fer us now. I'mgoin' to kill Lee Jorth! Him first, an' mebbe his brothers. I had tothink of a good many ways before I hit on one I reckon will be shore.It's got to be SHORE. Jorth has got to die! Wal, heah's my plan....Thet Jorth outfit is drinkin' some, we can gamble on it. They're notgoin' to leave thet store. An' of course they'll be expectin' us tostart a fight. I reckon they'll look fer some such siege as they heldround Isbel's ranch. But we shore ain't goin' to do thet. I'm goin'to surprise thet outfit. There's only one man among them who isdangerous, an' thet's Queen. I know Queen. But he doesn't know me.An' I'm goin' to finish my job before he gets acquainted with me. Afterthet, all right!"

  Blue paused a moment, his eyes narrowing down, his whole face settingin hard cast of intense preoccupation, as if he visualized a scene ofextraordinary nature.

  "Wal, what's your trick?" demanded Blaisdell.

  "Y'u all know Greaves's store," continued Blue. "How them winders havewooden shutters thet keep a light from showin' outside? Wal, I'mgamblin' thet as soon as it's dark Jorth's gang will be celebratin'.They'll be drinkin' an' they'll have a light, an' the winders will beshut. They're not goin' to worry none aboot us. Thet store is like afort. It won't burn. An' shore they'd never think of us chargin' themin there. Wal, as soon as it's dark, we'll go round behind the lotsan' come up jest acrost the road from Greaves's. I reckon we'd betterleave Isbel where he lays till this fight's over. Mebbe y'u 'll havemore 'n him to bury. We'll crawl behind them bushes in front ofColeman's yard. An' heah's where Jean comes in. He'll take an ax, an'his guns, of course, an' do some of his Injun sneakin' round to theback of Greaves's store.... An', Jean, y'u must do a slick job of this.But I reckon it 'll be easy fer you. Back there it 'll be dark aspitch, fer anyone lookin' out of the store. An' I'm figgerin' y'u cantake your time an' crawl right up. Now if y'u don't remember howGreaves's back yard looks I'll tell y'u."

  Here Blue dropped on one knee to the floor and with a finger he traceda map of Greaves's barn and fence, the back door and window, andespecially a break in the stone foundation which led into a kind ofcellar where Greaves stored wood and other things that could be leftoutdoors.

  "Jean, I take particular pains to show y'u where this hole is," saidBlue, "because if the gang runs out y'u could duck in there an' hide.An' if they run out into the yard--wal, y'u'd make it a sorry run ferthem.... Wal, when y'u've crawled up close to Greaves's back door, an'waited long enough to see an' listen--then you're to run fast an' swingyour ax smash ag'in' the winder. Take a quick peep in if y'u want to.It might help. Then jump quick an' take a swing at the door. Y'u 'llbe standin' to one side, so if the gang shoots through the door theywon't hit y'u. Bang thet door good an' hard.... Wal, now's where Icome in. When y'u swing thet ax I'll shore run fer the front of thestore. Jorth an' his outfit will be some attentive to thet poundin' ofyours on the back door. So I reckon. An' they'll be lookin' thet way.I'
ll run in--yell--an' throw my guns on Jorth."

  "Humph! Is that all?" ejaculated Blaisdell.

  "I reckon thet's all an' I'm figgerin' it's a hell of a lot," respondedBlue, dryly. "Thet's what Jorth will think."

  "Where do we come in?"

  "Wal, y'u all can back me up," replied Blue, dubiously. "Y'u see, myplan goes as far as killin' Jorth--an' mebbe his brothers. Mebbe I'llget a crack at Queen. But I'll be shore of Jorth. After thet alldepends. Mebbe it 'll be easy fer me to get out. An' if I do y'ufellars will know it an' can fill thet storeroom full of bullets."

  "Wal, Blue, with all due respect to y'u, I shore don't like your plan,"declared Blaisdell. "Success depends upon too many little things anyone of which might go wrong."

  "Blaisdell, I reckon I know this heah game better than y'u," repliedBlue. "A gun fighter goes by instinct. This trick will work."

  "But suppose that front door of Greaves's store is barred," protestedBlaisdell.

  "It hasn't got any bar," said Blue.

  "Y'u're shore?"

  "Yes, I reckon," replied Blue.

  "Hell, man! Aren't y'u takin' a terrible chance?" queried Blaisdell.

  Blue's answer to that was a look that brought the blood to Blaisdell'sface. Only then did the rancher really comprehend how the littlegunman had taken such desperate chances before, and meant to take themnow, not with any hope or assurance of escaping with his life, but tolive up to his peculiar code of honor.

  "Blaisdell, did y'u ever heah of me in Texas?" he queried, dryly.

  "Wal, no, Blue, I cain't swear I did," replied the rancher,apologetically. "An' Isbel was always sort of' mysterious aboot hisacquaintance with you."

  "My name's not Blue."

  "Ahuh! Wal, what is it, then--if I'm safe to ask?" returned Blaisdell,gruffly.

  "It's King Fisher," replied Blue.

  The shock that stiffened Blaisdell must have been communicated to theothers. Jean certainly felt amaze, and some other emotion not fullyrealized, when he found himself face to face with one of the mostnotorious characters ever known in Texas--an outlaw long supposed to bedead.

  "Men, I reckon I'd kept my secret if I'd any idee of comin' out of thisIsbel-Jorth war alive," said Blue. "But I'm goin' to cash. I feel itheah.... Isbel was my friend. He saved me from bein' lynched in Texas.An' so I'm goin' to kill Jorth. Now I'll take it kind of y'u--if anyof y'u come out of this alive--to tell who I was an' why I was on theIsbel side. Because this sheep an' cattle war--this talk of Jorth an'the Hash Knife Gang--it makes me, sick. I KNOW there's been crookedwork on Isbel's side, too. An' I never want it on record thet I killedJorth because he was a rustler."

  "By God, Blue! it's late in the day for such talk," burst outBlaisdell, in rage and amaze. "But I reckon y'u know what y'u'retalkin' aboot.... Wal, I shore don't want to heah it."

  At this juncture Bill Isbel quietly entered the cabin, too late to hearany of Blue's statement. Jean was positive of that, for as Blue wasspeaking those last revealing words Bill's heavy boots had resounded onthe gravel path outside. Yet something in Bill's look or in the wayBlue averted his lean face or in the entrance of Bill at thatparticular moment, or all these together, seemed to Jean to add furthermystery to the long secret causes leading up to the Jorth-Isbel war.Did Bill know what Blue knew? Jean had an inkling that he did. And onthe moment, so perplexing and bitter, Jean gazed out the door, down thedeserted road to where his dead father lay, white-haired and ghastly inthe sunlight.

  "Blue, you could have kept that to yourself, as well as your realname," interposed Jean, with bitterness. "It's too late now for eitherto do any good.... But I appreciate your friendship for dad, an' I'mready to help carry out your plan."

  That decision of Jean's appeared to put an end to protest or argumentfrom Blaisdell or any of the others. Blue's fleeting dark smile wasone of satisfaction. Then upon most of this group of men seemed tosettle a grim restraint. They went out and walked and watched; theycame in again, restless and somber. Jean thought that he must havebent his gaze a thousand times down the road to the tragic figure ofhis father. That sight roused all emotions in his breast, and the onethat stirred there most was pity. The pity of it! Gaston Isbel lyingface down in the dust of the village street! Patches of blood showedon the back of his vest and one white-sleeved shoulder. He had beenshot through. Every time Jean saw this blood he had to stifle agathering of wild, savage impulses.

  Meanwhile the afternoon hours dragged by and the village remained as ifits inhabitants had abandoned it. Not even a dog showed on the sideroad. Jorth and some of his men came out in front of the store and saton the steps, in close convening groups. Every move they, made seemedsignificant of their confidence and importance. About sunset they wentback into the store, closing door and window shutters. Then Blaisdellcalled the Isbel faction to have food and drink. Jean felt no hunger.And Blue, who had kept apart from the others, showed no desire to eat.Neither did he smoke, though early in the day he had never been withouta cigarette between his lips.

  Twilight fell and darkness came. Not a light showed anywhere in theblackness.

  "Wal, I reckon it's aboot time," said Blue, and he led the way out ofthe cabin to the back of the lot. Jean strode behind him, carrying hisrifle and an ax. Silently the other men followed. Blue turned to theleft and led through the field until he came within sight of a darkline of trees.

  "Thet's where the road turns off," he said to Jean. "An' heah's theback of Coleman's place.... Wal, Jean, good luck!"

  Jean felt the grip of a steel-like hand, and in the darkness he caughtthe gleam of Blue's eyes. Jean had no response in words for thelaconic Blue, but he wrung the hard, thin hand and hurried away in thedarkness.

  Once alone, his part of the business at hand rushed him into eagerthrilling action. This was the sort of work he was fitted to do. Inthis instance it was important, but it seemed to him that Blue hadcoolly taken the perilous part. And this cowboy with gray in his thinhair was in reality the great King Fisher! Jean marveled at the fact.And he shivered all over for Jorth. In ten minutes--fifteen, more orless, Jorth would lie gasping bloody froth and sinking down. Somethingin the dark, lonely, silent, oppressive summer night told Jean this.He strode on swiftly. Crossing the road at a run, he kept on over theground he had traversed during the afternoon, and in a few moments hestood breathing hard at the edge of the common behind Greaves's store.

  A pin point of light penetrated the blackness. It made Jean's heartleap. The Jorth contingent were burning the big lamp that hung in thecenter of Greaves's store. Jean listened. Loud voices and coarselaughter sounded discord on the melancholy silence of the night. WhatBlue had called his instinct had surely guided him aright. Death ofGaston Isbel was being celebrated by revel.

  In a few moments Jean had regained his breath. Then all his facultiesset intensely to the action at hand. He seemed to magnify his hearingand his sight. His movements made no sound. He gained the wagon,where he crouched a moment.

  The ground seemed a pale, obscure medium, hardly more real than thegloom above it. Through this gloom of night, which looked thick like acloud, but was really clear, shone the thin, bright point of light,accentuating the black square that was Greaves's store. Above thisstood a gray line of tree foliage, and then the intensely dark-blue skystudded with white, cold stars.

  A hound bayed lonesomely somewhere in the distance. Voices of mensounded more distinctly, some deep and low, others loud, unguarded,with the vacant note of thoughtlessness.

  Jean gathered all his forces, until sense of sight and hearing were inexquisite accord with the suppleness and lightness of his movements. Heglided on about ten short, swift steps before he halted. That was asfar as his piercing eyes could penetrate. If there had been a guardstationed outside the store Jean would have seen him before being seen.He saw the fence, reached it, entered the yard, glided in the denseshadow of the barn until the black square began to loom gray--the colorof stone at night. Jean
peered through the obscurity. No dark figureof a man showed against that gray wall--only a black patch, which mustbe the hole in the foundation mentioned. A ray of light now streakedout from the little black window. To the right showed the wide, blackdoor.

  Farther on Jean glided silently. Then he halted. There was no guardoutside. Jean heard the clink of a cap, the lazy drawl of a Texan, andthen a strong, harsh voice--Jorth's. It strung Jean's whole beingtight and vibrating. Inside he was on fire while cold thrills rippledover his skin. It took tremendous effort of will to hold himself backanother instant to listen, to look, to feel, to make sure. And thatinstant charged him with a mighty current of hot blood, straining,throbbing, damming.

  When Jean leaped this current burst. In a few swift bounds he gainedhis point halfway between door and window. He leaned his rifle againstthe stone wall. Then he swung the ax. Crash! The window shuttersplit and rattled to the floor inside. The silence then broke with ahoarse, "What's thet?"

  With all his might Jean swung the heavy ax on the door. Smash! Thelower half caved in and banged to the floor. Bright light flared outthe hole.

  "Look out!" yelled a man, in loud alarm. "They're batterin' the backdoor!"

  Jean swung again, high on the splintered door. Crash! Pieces flewinside.

  "They've got axes," hoarsely shouted another voice. "Shove the counterag'in' the door."

  "No!" thundered a voice of authority that denoted terror as well. "Letthem come in. Pull your guns an' take to cover!"

  "They ain't comin' in," was the hoarse reply. "They'll shoot in on usfrom the dark."

  "Put out the lamp!" yelled another.

  Jean's third heavy swing caved in part of the upper half of the door.Shouts and curses intermingled with the sliding of benches across thefloor and the hard shuffle of boots. This confusion seemed to be splitand silenced by a piercing yell, of different caliber, of terriblemeaning. It stayed Jean's swing--caused him to drop the ax and snatchup his rifle.

  "DON'T ANYBODY MOVE!"

  Like a steel whip this voice cut the silence. It belonged to Blue.Jean swiftly bent to put his eye to a crack in the door. Most of thosevisible seemed to have been frozen into unnatural positions. Jorthstood rather in front of his men, hatless and coatless, one armoutstretched, and his dark profile set toward a little man just insidethe door. This man was Blue. Jean needed only one flashing look atBlue's face, at his leveled, quivering guns, to understand why he hadchosen this trick.

  "Who're---you?" demanded Jorth, in husky pants.

  "Reckon I'm Isbel's right-hand man," came the biting reply. "Oncetolerable well known in Texas.... KING FISHER!"

  The name must have been a guarantee of death. Jorth recognized thisoutlaw and realized his own fate. In the lamplight his face turned apale greenish white. His outstretched hand began to quiver down.

  Blue's left gun seemed to leap up and flash red and explode. Severalheavy reports merged almost as one. Jorth's arm jerked limply,flinging his gun. And his body sagged in the middle. His handsfluttered like crippled wings and found their way to his abdomen. Hisdeath-pale face never changed its set look nor position toward Blue.But his gasping utterance was one of horrible mortal fury and terror.Then he began to sway, still with that strange, rigid set of his facetoward his slayer, until he fell.

  His fall broke the spell. Even Blue, like the gunman he was, hadpaused to watch Jorth in his last mortal action. Jorth's followersbegan to draw and shoot. Jean saw Blue's return fire bring down a hugeman, who fell across Jorth's body. Then Jean, quick as the thoughtthat actuated him, raised his rifle and shot at the big lamp. It burstin a flare. It crashed to the floor. Darkness followed--a blank,thick, enveloping mantle. Then red flashes of guns emphasized theblackness. Inside the store there broke loose a pandemonium of shots,yells, curses, and thudding boots. Jean shoved his rifle barrel insidethe door and, holding it low down, he moved it to and fro while heworked lever and trigger until the magazine was empty. Then, drawinghis six-shooter, he emptied that. A roar of rifles from the front ofthe store told Jean that his comrades had entered the fray. Bulletszipped through the door he had broken. Jean ran swiftly round thecorner, taking care to sheer off a little to the left, and when he gotclear of the building he saw a line of flashes in the middle of theroad. Blaisdell and the others were firing into the door of the store.With nimble fingers Jean reloaded his rifle. Then swiftly he ranacross the road and down to get behind his comrades. Their shootinghad slackened. Jean saw dark forms coming his way.

  "Hello, Blaisdell!" he called, warningly.

  "That y'u, Jean?" returned the rancher, looming up. "Wal, we wasn'tworried aboot y'u."

  "Blue?" queried Jean, sharply.

  A little, dark figure shuffled past Jean. "Howdy, Jean!" said Blue,dryly. "Y'u shore did your part. Reckon I'll need to be tied up, butI ain't hurt much."

  "Colmor's hit," called the voice of Gordon, a few yards distant. "Helpme, somebody!"

  Jean ran to help Gordon uphold the swaying Colmor. "Are you hurt--bad?"asked Jean, anxiously. The young man's head rolled and hung. He wasbreathing hard and did not reply. They had almost to carry him.

  "Come on, men!" called Blaisdell, turning back toward the others whowere still firing. "We'll let well enough alone.... Fredericks, y'uan' Bill help me find the body of the old man. It's heah somewhere."

  Farther on down the road the searchers stumbled over Gaston Isbel. Theypicked him up and followed Jean and Gordon, who were supporting thewounded Colmor. Jean looked back to see Blue dragging himself along inthe rear. It was too dark to see distinctly; nevertheless, Jean gotthe impression that Blue was more severely wounded than he had claimedto be. The distance to Meeker's cabin was not far, but it took whatJean felt to be a long and anxious time to get there. Colmor apparentlyrallied somewhat. When this procession entered Meeker's yard, Blue waslagging behind.

  "Blue, how air y'u?" called Blaisdell, with concern.

  "Wal, I got--my boots--on--anyhow," replied Blue, huskily.

  He lurched into the yard and slid down on the grass and stretched out.

  "Man! Y'u're hurt bad!" exclaimed Blaisdell. The others halted intheir slow march and, as if by tacit, unspoken word, lowered the bodyof Isbel to the ground. Then Blaisdell knelt beside Blue. Jean leftColmor to Gordon and hurried to peer down into Blue's dim face.

  "No, I ain't--hurt," said Blue, in a much weaker voice. "I'm--jestkilled! ... It was Queen! ... Y'u all heerd me--Queen was--only bad manin that lot. I knowed it.... I could--hev killed him.... But Iwas--after Lee Jorth an' his brothers...."

  Blue's voice failed there.

  "Wal!" ejaculated Blaisdell.

  "Shore was funny--Jorth's face--when I said--King Fisher," whisperedBlue. "Funnier--when I bored--him through.... But it--was--Queen--"

  His whisper died away.

  "Blue!" called Blaisdell, sharply. Receiving no answer, he bent lowerin the starlight and placed a hand upon the man's breast.

  "Wal, he's gone.... I wonder if he really was the old Texas KingFisher. No one would ever believe it.... But if he killed the Jorths,I'll shore believe him."