CHAPTER II
A MAN'S REPUTATION
Purgatory moved fast, but warily. The black horse seemed to have caughtsomething of his rider's caution. For part of the distance toward therock the animal traveled straight, loping rapidly, but as he neared thelittle stretch of broken country that surrounded the rock he began tosheer off, advancing with mincing steps, his ears erect, his eyes wideand alert, snorting suspiciously.
Knowing his horse, the rider made no attempt to guide him; he knewPurgatory was alert to any hostile movement on the part of the men whowere shooting, and that at the first sign of danger to himself or to hisrider he would do what was required of him.
The man on the summit of the rock was still shooting, thoughintermittently. It seemed to the rider that the man's target must beelusive or concealed, for the shooter's actions showed that he wasirritated. The other man, too, was still shooting. The rider noted thathe, too, seemed to be meeting with failure, for as the rider drew nearerhe heard the man curse.
Neither of the two men who were visible to the rider had seenhim--neither of them had heard the big black horse gliding over the deepsand of the desert. The rider grinned with grim mirthlessness, edgingPurgatory around so that the two men, their backs toward him, were notmore than twenty or thirty feet away and entirely exposed to his view.
So intent were they upon their work that they did not even hear therider's low laugh as he brought the big black horse to a halt and satquietly in the saddle, a heavy pistol in each hand, watching them.
The rock, the rider noted, was a huge granite block, rotted from longexposure to the elements, seamed and scarred and cracked. The action ofthe eternally moving sand had worn an irregular-shaped concave into itssouthern wall, so that the summit overhung the side. The man on thesummit was lying flat on his stomach, leaning far over, still shootingdownward. The other man, who was standing at the base, was flattenedagainst it, facing the concave side, shooting occasionally, and cursingvolubly.
The rider was curious. Glancing sidelong, southward, he saw two horsesnot more than a hundred yards away. They were in a depression, behind asand ridge, which accounted for the fact that the rider had not seen thembefore.
Sight of the horses brought a widening grin to the rider's face. He hadthought, at first, that the two men were shooting at another man,concealed behind the rock; but the fact that there were only two horsesindicated that he had been in error. No man would be foolhardy enough toattempt to cross the desert on foot, and unless a man were a friend hewould not be carried upon another man's horse. Therefore, it seemed to beevident that the target at which the men were shooting was not anotherman.
And now, convinced that the men had cornered an animal of some kind, andthat they feared it too greatly to face it openly, the rider laughedloudly and called to the men, his voice freighted with sarcasm.
"Scared?" he said. "Oh, don't be. If you'll back off a little an' givehim room, he'll just naturally slope, an' give you a chance to get toyour cayuses."
Both men wheeled almost at the same instant. The man at the base of therock snarled--after the first gasp of astonishment, baring his teeth inhideous mirth and embarrassment; the other man, startled and caught offbalance at the sound of the rider's voice, slipped, tried to catchhimself, failed, and tumbled awkwardly down, scrambling and cursing, tothe sand within a few feet of the rider.
Sitting in the sand at the base of the rock, the man who had fallen alsosnarled as he sat, looking at the rider.
Neither of the two men moved after the involuntary muscular action thathad resulted from their astonishment. The man at the base of the rockstood in the position in which he had found himself when he had wheeled.
The pistol in his right hand was held close to his side, the muzzledirected at the rider.
But a change was coming over the man's face. The color was slowly goingout of it, the lips were loosening as his jaws dropped, his body began tosag, and his eyes began to widen with fear, stark and naked. At length,the rider now watching him with a gaze in which there began to glowrecognition and contempt, the man dropped his hands to his sides andleaned against the rock.
"'Drag' Harlan!" he muttered hoarsely.
The rider watched, his eyes glittering coldly, his lips twisting in acrooked sneer. Amusement was his dominating emotion, but there was hatein his gaze, mingling with a malignant joy and triumph. The pistols inhis hands became steady as his wrist muscles stiffened; and he watchedthe two men warily, apparently looking straight at the standing man, butseeing the sitting man also.
And now a silence fell--a strained, premonitory silence that had in it ahint of imminent tragedy. The sitting man stiffened, divining the promiseof violence; the standing man shrank back a little and looked downward atthe pistol in his right hand.
The rider saw the glance and laughed lowly.
"Keep her right where she is, Dolver," he warned. "You lift her onelittle wee lift, an' I bore you plumb in the brain-box. Sort offlabbergasted, eh? Didn't expect to run into me again so soon?"
He laughed as the other cringed, his face dead white, his eyes fixed onthe rider with a sort of dread fascination.
"Dolver, didn't you know when you got my little partner, Davey Langan,that I'd be comin' for you?" said the rider in a slow, drawling whisper."In the back you got him, not givin' him a chance. You're gettin' yoursnow. I'm givin' you a chance to take it like a man--standin', with yourface to me. Lift her now--damn you!"
There was no change in his expression as he watched the man he had calledDolver. There came no change in the cold, steady gleam of his eyes as hesaw the man stiffen and swing the muzzle of his pistol upward with aquick, jerky motion. But he sneered as with the movement he sent a bulletinto the man's chest; his lips curving with slight irony when Dolver'sgun went off, the bullet throwing up sand at Purgatory's forehoofs.
His eyes grew hard as he saw Dolver stagger, drop his pistol, and clutchat his chest; and he watched with seeming indifference as the man slowlysank to his knees and stretched out, face down, in the dust at the baseof the rock.
His lips were stiff with bitter rage, however, as he faced the other man,who had not moved.
"Get up on your hind legs, you yellow coyote!" he commanded.
For an instant it seemed that the other man was to share the fate of thefirst. The man seemed to think so, too, for he got up trembling, hishands outstretched along the rock, the fingers outspread and twitchingfrom the paralysis of fear that had seized him.
"Shoot your gab off quick!" commanded the rider. "Who are you?"
"I'm Laskar," the man muttered.
"Where you from?"
"Lamo."
The rider's eyes quickened. "Where did you meet up with that scum?" Heindicated Dolver.
"In town."
"Lamo?"
The man nodded.
"How long ago?" asked the rider.
"'Bout a week."
The man's voice was hoarse; he seemed reluctant to talk more, and he castfurtive, dreading glances toward the base of the rock where Dolver hadstood before the rider had surprised the men.
Watching the man narrowly, the rider noted his nervous glance, and hisshrinking, dreading manner. Harlan's eyes gleamed with suspicion, and ina flash he was off the black and standing before Laskar, forbidding andmenacing.
"Take off your gun-belt an' chuck it under my horse!" he directedsharply. "There's somethin' goin' on here that ain't been mentioned. I'mfindin' out what it is."
He watched while the man unbuckled his cartridge belt and threw it--thepistol still in the holster--into the sand at Purgatory's hoofs. Then hestepped to the man, sheathed one of his pistols, and ran the free handover the other's clothing in search of other weapons. Finding none, hestooped and took up Dolver's pistol and rifle that had fallen from theman's hands when he had tumbled off the rock, throwing them near wherethe cartridge belt had fallen.
"You freeze there while I take a look around this rock!" he commanded,with a cold look at the man.
/> Half a dozen steps took him around the base of the rock. He went boldly,though his muscles were tensed and his eyes alert for surprises. But hehad not taken a dozen steps in all when he halted and stiffened, his lipssetting into straight, hard lines.
For, stretched out on his left side in the sand close to the base of therock--under the flattened summit which had afforded him protection fromthe bullets the man with the rifle had been sending at him--was a man.
The man was apparently about fifty, with a seamed, pain-lined face. Hisbeard was stained with dust, his hair was gray with it; his clothinglooked as though he had been dragged through it. He was hatless, and oneof his boots was off. The foot had been bandaged with a handkerchief, andthrough the handkerchief the dark stains of a wound appeared.
The man's shirt was open in front; and the rider saw that another woundgaped in his chest, near the heart. The man had evidently made someattempt to care for that wound, too, for a piece of cloth from his shirthad been cut away, to permit him to get at the wound easily.
The man's left side seemed to be helpless, for the arm was twistedqueerly, the palm of the hand turned limply upward; but when the ridercame upon him the man was trying to tuck a folded paper into one of thecylinders of a pistol.
He had laid the weapon in the sand, and with his right hand was workingwith the cylinder and the paper. When he saw the rider he sneered andceased working with the pistol, looking up into the rider's face, hiseyes glowing with defiance.
"No chance for that even, eh?" he said, glancing at the paper and thepistol. "Things is goin' plumb wrong!"
He sagged back, resting his weight on the right elbow, and lookedsteadily at the rider--the look of a wounded animal defying his pursuers.
"Get goin'!" he jeered. "Do your damnedest! I heard that sneak, Dolver,yappin' to you. You're 'Drag' Harlan--gun-fighter, outlaw, killer! I'veheard of you," he went on as he saw Harlan scowl and stiffen. "Yourreputation has got all over. I reckon you're in the game to salivate me."
Harlan sheathed his gun.
"You're talkin' extravagant, mister man." And now he permitted a coldsmile to wreathe his lips. "If it'll do you any good to know," he added,"I've just put Dolver out of business."
"I heard that, too," declared the man, laughing bitterly. "I heard youtellin' Dolver. He killed your partner--or somethin'. That's personal,an' I ain't interested. Get goin'--the sooner the better. If you'd handit to me right now, I'd be much obliged to you; for I'm goin' fast. Thishole in my chest--which I got last night while I was sleepin'--will dothe business without any help from you."
After a pause for breath, the man began to speak again, railing at hiswould-be murderers. He was talking ramblingly when there came a soundfrom the opposite side of the rock--a grunt, a curse, and, almostinstantly, a shriek.
The wounded man raised himself and threw a glance of startled inquiry atHarlan: "What's that?"
Harlan watched the man steadily.
"I reckon that'll be that man Laskar," he said slowly. "I lifted his gunan' his rifle, an' Dolver's gun, an' throwed them under Purgatory--myhorse. Laskar has tried to get them, an' Purgatory's raised someobjection."
He stepped back and peered around the rock. Laskar was lying in the sandnear the base of the rock, doubled up and groaning loudly, whilePurgatory, his nostrils distended, his eyes ablaze, was standing over theweapons that lay in the sand, watching the groaning man malignantly.
Harlan returned to the wounded man, to find that he had collapsed and wasbreathing heavily.
For some minutes Harlan stood, looking down at him; then he knelt in thesand beside him and lifted his head. The man's eyes were closed, andHarlan laid his head down again and examined the wound in his chest.
He shook his head as he got up, went to Purgatory, and got some water,which he used to wipe away the dust and blood which had become mattedover the wound. He shook his head again after bathing the wound. Thewound meant death for the man within a short time. Yet Harlan forced somewater into the half-open mouth and bathed the man's face with it.
For a long time after Harlan ceased to work with him the man lay in astupor-like silence, limp and motionless, though his eyes openedoccasionally, and by the light in them Harlan knew the man was aware ofwhat he had been doing.
The sun was going now; it had become a golden, blazing ball which wassinking over the peaks of some distant mountains, its fiery rays stabbingthe pale azure of the sky with brilliantly glowing shafts that threw offever-changing seas of color that blended together in perfect harmony.
Harlan alternately watched the wounded man and Laskar.
Laskar was still groaning, and finally Harlan walked to him and pushedhim with a contemptuous foot.
"Get up, you sneak!" he ordered. And Laskar, groaning, holding hischest--where Purgatory's hoofs had struck him--staggered to his feet andlooked with piteously pleading eyes at the big man who stood near him,unmoved by the spectacle of suffering he presented.
And when he found that Harlan gave him no sympathy, he cursed horribly.This drew a cold threat from Harlan.
"Shut your rank mouth or I'll turn Purgatory loose on you--again. Lookin'for sympathy, eh? How much sympathy did you give that hombre who'scashin' in behind the rocks? None--damn you!"
It was the first flash of feeling Harlan had exhibited, and Laskar shrankfrom him in terror.
But Harlan followed him, grasping him by a shoulder and gripping it withiron fingers, so that Laskar screamed with pain.
"Who is that man?" Harlan motioned toward the rock.
"Lane Morgan. He owns the Rancho Seco--about forty miles south of Lamo,"returned Laskar after a long look into Harlan's eyes.
"Who set you guys onto him--what you wantin' him for?"
"I don't know," whined Laskar. "Day before yesterday Dolver an' me meetsup in Lamo, an' Dolver asks me to help him give Morgan his pass-outchecks on the ride over to Pardo--which Morgan's intendin' to make. Iain't got any love for Morgan, an' so I took Dolver up."
"You're a liar!"
Harlan's fingers were sinking into Laskar's shoulder again, and once morethe man screamed with pain and impotent fury.
"I swear--" began Laskar.
Harlan's grin was bitterly contemptuous. He placed the other hand onLaskar's shoulder and forced the man to look into his eyes.
"You're a liar, but I'm lettin' you off. You're a sneak with Greaserblood in you. I don't ever want to see you again. I'm goin' to Lamo--soonas this man Morgan cashes in. I'll be there some time tomorrow. Lamowouldn't please me none if I was to find you there when I ride in. Youslope, now--an' keep on hittin' the breeze until there ain't no more ofit. I'd blow you apart if this man Morgan was anything to me. But itain't my game unless I see you again."
He watched until Laskar, still holding his chest, walked to where the twohorses were concealed, and mounted one of them. When Laskar, leaning overthe pommel of the saddle, had grown dim in the haze that was settlingover the desert, Harlan scowled and returned to the wounded man.
To his astonishment, Morgan was conscious--and a cold calmness seemed tohave come over him. His eyes were filled with a light that told ofcomplete knowledge and resignation. He half smiled as Harlan knelt besidehim.
"I'm about due, I reckon," he said. "I heard you talkin' to the man youjust let get away. It don't make any difference--about _him_. I reckon hewas just a tool, anyway. There's someone behind this bigger than Dolveran' that man Laskar. He didn't tell you?"
Harlan shook his head negatively, watching the other intently.
"I didn't reckon he would," said Morgan. "But there's _somebody_." Hegazed long into Harlan's face, and the latter gazed steadily back at him.He seemed to be searching Harlan's face for signs of character.
Harlan stood the probing glance well--so that at last Morgan smiled,saying slowly: "It's funny--damned funny. About faces, I mean. Yourreputation--it's bad. I've been hearin' about you for a couple of yearsnow. An' I've been lookin' at you an' tryin' to make myself say, 'Yes,he's the kind of a guy
which would do the things they say he's done.'
"I can't make myself say it; I can't even make myself think it. Eitheryou're a mighty good actor, or you're the worst-judged man I ever met.Which is it?"
"Mostly all of us get reputations we don't deserve," said Harlan lowly.
Morgan's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Meanin' that you don't deserveyours?" he said.
"I reckon there's been a heap of lyin' goin' on about me."
For a long time Morgan watched the other, studying him. The long twilightof the desert descended and found them--Morgan staring at Harlan; thelatter enduring the gaze--for he knew that the end would not long bedelayed.
At last Morgan sighed.
"Well," he said, "I've got to take a chance on you. An', somehow, itseems to me that I ain't takin' much of a chance, either. For a manthat's supposed to be the hell-raisin' outlaw that folks say you are,you've got the straightest eyes I ever seen. I've seen killers--an'outlaws, an' gun-fighters, an' I never seen one that could look at a manlike you've looked at me. Harlan," he went on slowly, "I'm goin' to tellyou about some gold I've hid--a hundred thousand dollars!"
Keenly, suspicion lurking deep in his eyes, his mouth half open,seemingly ready to snap shut the instant he detected greed or cupidity inHarlan's eyes, he watched the latter.
It seemed that he expected Harlan to betray a lust for the gold he hadmentioned; and he was ready to close his lips and to die with his secret.And when he saw that apparently Harlan was unmoved, that he betrayed,seemingly, not the slightest interest, that even his eyelids did notflicker at his words, nor his face change color--Morgan drew a tremuloussigh.
"You've got me guessin'," he confessed weakly. "I don't know whetheryou're a devil or a saint."
"I ain't claimin' nothin'," said Harlan. "An' I ain't carin' a damn aboutyour gold. I'd a heap rather you wouldn't mention it. More than one manhas busted his character chasin' that rainbow."
"You ain't interested?" demanded Morgan.
"Not none."
Morgan's eyes glowed with an eager light. For now that Harlan betrayedlack of interest, Morgan was convinced--almost--that the man's reputationfor committing evil deeds had been exaggerated.
"You've got to be interested," he declared, lifting himself on his goodarm and leaning toward Harlan. "It ain't the gold that is botherin' me somuch, anyway--it's my daughter.
"It's all my own fault, too," he went on when he saw Harlan's eyesquicken. "I've felt all along that somethin' was wrong, but I didn't havesense enough to look into it. An' now, trustin' folks so much, an' notpayin' strict attention to what was goin' on around me, I've got to thepoint where I've got to put everything into the hands of a man I neversaw before--an outlaw."
"There ain't nobody crowdin' you to put anything into his hands," sneeredHarlan. "I ain't a heap anxious to go around buttin' into trouble foryou. Keep your yap shut, an' die like a man!"
Morgan laughed, almost triumphantly. "I'll do my dyin' like a man, allright--don't be afraid of that. You want to hear what I've got to tellyou?"
"I've got to listen. Shoot!"
"There's a gang of outlaws operatin' in the Lamo country. Luke Deveny isthe chief. It's generally known that Deveny's the boss, but he keeps histracks pretty well covered, an' Sheriff Gage ain't been able to getanything on him. Likely Gage is scared of him, anyway.
"Anyway, Gage don't do nothin'. Deveny's a bad man with a gun; thereain't his equal in the Territory. He's got a fellow that runs withhim--Strom Rogers--who's almost as good as he is with a gun. They're holyterrors; they've got the cattlemen for two hundred miles around eatin'out of their hands. They're roarin', rippin' devils!
"There ain't no man knows how big their gang is--seems like half thepeople in the Lamo country must belong to it. There's spies all around;there ain't a thing done that the outlaws don't seem to know of it. Theydrive stock off right in front of the eyes of the owners; they rob thebanks in the country; they drink an' kill an' riot without anyoneinterferin'.
"There ain't anyone knows where their hang-out is--no one seems to knowanything about them, except that they're on hand when there's anydevilment to be done.
"I've got to talk fast, for I ain't got long. I've never had any troublewith Deveny or Rogers, or any of the rest of them, because I've alwaystended to my own business. I've seen the thing gettin' worse an' worse,though; an' I ought to have got out of there when I had a chance. Latelythere ain't been no chance. They watch me like a hawk. I can't trust mymen. The Rancho Seco is a mighty big place, an' I've got thirty menworkin' for me. But I can't trust a damned one of them.
"About a year ago I found some gold in the Cisco Mountains near theranch. It was nugget gold--only a pocket. I packed it home, lettin'nobody see me doin' it; an' I got it all hid in the house, except thelast batch, before anybody knowed anything about it. Then, comin' homewith the last of it, the damned bottom had to bust out of the bag rightnear the corral gate, where Meeder Lawson, my foreman, was standin'watchin' me.
"It turned out that he'd been watchin' me for a long time. I never likedthe cuss, but he's a good cowman, an' I had to hold onto him. When he sawthe gold droppin' out an' hittin' the ground like big hailstones, hegrinned that chessie-cat grin he's got, an' wanted to know if I wasthrough totin' it home.
"I wanted to know how he knowed there was more of it, an' he said he'dbeen keepin' an eye on me, an' knowed there was a heap more of itsomewhere around.
"I fired him on the spot. There'd have been gunplay, but I got the dropon him an' he had to slope. Well, the next mornin' Luke Deveny rode up towhere I was saddlin', an' told me I'd have to take Lawson back.
"I done so, for I knowed there'd be trouble with the outlaws if I didn't.I ain't never been able to get any of that gold to the assayer. They'vebeen watchin' me like buzzards on a limb over some carrion. I don't getout of their sight.
"An' now they've finally got me. I've got a little of the gold in mypocket now--here it is." He drew out a small buckskin bag and passed itto Harlan, who took it and held it loosely in his hands, not taking hisgaze from Morgan.
"Keep a-goin'," suggested Harlan.
"Interested, eh?" grinned Morgan; "I knowed you'd be. Well, here I am--Ididn't get to the assay office at Pardo; an' I'll never get there now."He paused and then went on:
"Now they're after Barbara, my daughter. Deveny--an' Strom Rogers, an'some more--all of them, I reckon. I ought to have got out long ago. Butit's too late now, I reckon.
"That damned Deveny--he's a wolf with women. Handsome as hell, with waysthat take with most any woman that meets him. An' he's as smooth an' coldan' heartless as the devil himself. He ain't got no pity for nobody ornothin'. An' Strom Rogers runs him a close second. An' there's more ofthem almost as bad.
"They watch every trail that runs from the Rancho Seco to--to anywhere.If I ride north there's someone watchin' me. If I ride south there's aman on my trail. If I go east or west I run into a man or two who'stakin' interest in me. When I go to Lamo, there'll be half a dozen menstrike town about the same time.
"I can't prove they are Deveny's men--but I know it, for they're alwaysaround. An' it's the same way with Barbara--she can't go anywhere withoutDeveny, or Rogers--or some of them--ain't trailin' her.
"As I said, the sheriff can't do anything--or he won't. He looks worriedwhen I meet him, an' gets out of my way, for fear I'll ask him to dosomethin'.
"That's the way it stands. An' now Barbara will have to play it a lonehand against them. Bill Morgan--that's my son--ain't home. He'sgallivantin' around the country, doin' some secret work for the governor.Somethin' about rustlers an' outlaws. He ought to be home now, to protectBarbara. But instead he's wastin' his time somewheres else when he oughtto be here--in Lamo--where's there's plenty of the kind of guys he'slookin' for.
"There's only one man in the country I trust. He's John Haydon, of theStar ranch--about fifteen miles west of the Rancho Seco. Seems to me thatHaydon's square. He's an upstandin' man of about thirty, an' he's deadstuck on Bar
bara. Seems to me that if it wasn't for Haydon, Deveny, orLawson, or Rogers, or some of them scum would have run off with Barbaralong ago.
"You see how she shapes up?" he queried as he watched Harlan's face.
"Looks bad for Barbara," said Harlan slowly.
Morgan writhed and was silent for a time.
"Look here, Harlan," he finally said; "you're considered to be ahell-raiser yourself, but I can see in your eyes that you ain't takin'advantage of women. An' Harlan"--Morgan's voice quavered--"there's mylittle Barbara all alone to take care of herself with that gang of wolvesaround. I'm wantin' you to go to the Rancho Seco an' look around. My wifedied last year. There's mebbe two or three guys around the ranch wouldstick to Barbara, but that's all. Take a look at John Haydon, an' if youthink he's on the level--an' you want to drift on--turn things over tohim."
Morgan shuddered, and was silent for a time, his lips tight-shut, hisface whitening in the dusk as he fought the pain that racked him. When heat last spoke again his voice was so weak that Harlan had to kneel andlean close to him to hear the low-spoken words that issued from betweenhis quavering lips:
"Harlan--you're white; you've got to be white--to Barbara! That paper Iwas tryin' to stuff into my gun--when you come around the rock. You takeit. It'll tell you where the gold is. You'll find my will--in my desk inmy office--off the _patio_. Everything goes to Barbara. Everybody knowsthat. Haydon knows it--Deveny's found it out. You can't get me back--it'stoo far. Plant me here--an' tell Barbara." He laughed hollowly. "I reckonthat's all." He felt for one of Harlan's hands, found it, and gripped itwith all his remaining strength. His voice was hoarse, quavering:
"You won't refuse, Harlan? You can't refuse! Why, my little Barbara willbe all alone, man! What a damned fool I've been not to look out for her!"
Night had come, and Morgan could not see Harlan's face. But he wasconscious of the firm grip of Harlan's hands, and he laughed lowly andthankfully.
"You'll do it--for Barbara--won't you? Say you will, man! Let me hear yousay it--now!"
"I'm givin' you my word," returned Harlan slowly. And now he leaned stillcloser to the dying man and whispered long to him.
When he concluded Morgan fought hard to raise himself to a sittingposture; he strained, dragging himself in the sand in an effort to seeHarlan's face. But the black desert night had settled over them, and allMorgan could see of Harlan was the dim outlines of his head.
"Say it again, man! Say it again, an' light a match so's I can see youwhile you're sayin' it!"
There was a pause. Then a match flared its light revealing Harlan's face,set in serious lines.
"I wouldn't lie to you--now--Morgan," he said; "I'm goin' to the Lamocountry to bust up Deveny's gang."
Morgan stared hard at the other while the flickering light lasted with astrained intensity that transfigured his face, suffusing it with a glowthat could not have been more eloquent with happiness had the supremeMaster of the universe drawn back the mysterious veil of life to permithim to look upon the great secret.
When the match flickered and went out, and the darkness of the desertreigned again, Morgan sank back with a tremulous, satisfied sigh.
"I'm goin' now," he said; "I'm goin'--knowin' God has been good to me."He breathed fast, gaspingly. And for a moment he spoke hurriedly, asthough fearful he would not be given time to say what he wanted to say:
"Someone plugged me--last night while I was sleepin'. Shot me in thechest--here. Didn't give me no chance. There was three of them. My firehad gone out an' I couldn't see their faces. Likely Laskar an' Dolver wastwo. The other one must have sloped. It was him shot me. Tried to knifeme, too; but I fought him, an' he broke away. It happened behind arock--off to the left--a red boulder.
"I grabbed at him an' caught somethin'. What it was busted. I couldn'twait to find out what it was. I'm hopin' it's somethin' that'll help youto find out who the man was. I ain't goin' to be mean--just when I'mdyin'; but if you was to look for that thing, find it, an' could tell whothe man is, mebbe some day you'd find it agreeable to pay him for what hedone to me."
He became silent; no sound except his fast, labored breathing broke thedead calm of the desert night.
"Somethin' more than the gold an' Barbara back of it all," he mutteredthickly, seeming to lapse into a state of semiconsciousness in which theburden that was upon his mind took the form of involuntary speech:"Somethin' big back of it--somethin' they ain't sayin' nothin' about. ButHarlan--he'll take care of--" He paused; then his voice leaped. "Why,there's Barbara now! Why, honey, I thought--I--why----"
His voice broke, trailing off into incoherence.
After a while Harlan rose to his feet. An hour later he found the redrock Morgan had spoken of--and with a flaming bunch of mesquite in handhe searched the vicinity.
In a little depression caused by the heel of a boot he came upon aglittering object, which he examined in the light of the flamingmesquite, which he had thrown into the sand after picking up theglittering object. Kneeling beside the dying flame he discovered that theglittering trifle he had found was a two- or three-inch section of goldwatch chain of peculiar pattern. He tucked it into a pocket of histrousers.
Later, he mounted Purgatory and fled into the appalling blackness,heading westward--the big black horse loping easily.
The first streaks of dawn found Purgatory drinking deeply from thegreen-streaked moisture of Kelso's water-hole. And when the sun stuck aglowing rim over the desert's horizon, to resume his rule over the bakedand blighted land, the big black horse and his rider were travelingsteadily, the only life visible in the wide area of desolation--a movingblot, an atom behind which was death and the eternal, whispered promiseof death.