11. THE TALKING TREE
They stood along the wall, unkempt and untidy, but there was somethingabout them that was as cold and deadly as the whine of a bullet or thefangs of a viper. They were lean as weasels, and as fast. The riflesthey held, from the repeating carbines belonging to Barr, Yancey, Dabband Grant, to Pete's single-shot fifty caliber, seemed a part of themand they had grown up with those rifles. These were men who had no shotsto waste and who therefore must make every one count. They would beshamed if they shot a turkey or grouse anywhere except through the headand they had only raucous jeers for whoever was unable to shoot as well.
"Turn 'raound!" Pete ordered gruffly.
"Not here ya fool!" Barr countermanded the order. "A fair half ofSmithville'll come a'racin'."
Pete sneered. "Let 'em come. They won't find us."
"No!" Obviously Barr was in command. "This goes my way."
Jeff stood, cold and shaken and knowing that, when he walked into thecabin, he had walked into his own death. These must be the men aboutwhom Bill Ellis had warned him. But why should the Whitneys want to killhim? Summoning all his past experience with Tarrant Enterprises, Ltd.,which had taught him to try to appear outwardly cool in the hottest ofspots, Jeff did his best to seem not only calm but to take full commandof the situation.
"You're in my cabin," he said quietly.
"We knaow," Pete's eyes were venom-laden, "but you won't be needin' itfer long."
The rest of the Whitneys said nothing. Jeff studied them and tried, byreading their faces, to determine his next act.
Pete, so poisoned with hatred that it distorted his face, offerednothing. Yancey, Dabb and Grant might be swayed if it were not for Barr.Dominating the rest, and with them, at the same time he stood apart fromthem. He was strong, Pete was weak--and for that very reason extremelydangerous. The rest needed leadership. But while there was no lust inBarr's eyes, neither was there any mercy. Jeff looked steadily at himand kept his voice quiet.
"What's it about?"
"We liked ya, peddler." Barr's voice was very grave. "We liked ya an'you traded fair with your goods. But there's no bit of room in thesehills for a policeman."
"Policeman!" Jeff exploded.
"We know," Barr seemed downcast, as though someone he trusted hadbetrayed him. "The boy told us."
"Told you what?"
"All--an' 'twill serve ya naught to plead or ask pardon. If you're aman, be one now."
Jeff's head whirled. Apparently, while he was in Ackerton, one or moreof the Whitneys had met Dan and the boy had spun some fantastic tale.Jeff looked over his captors again and saw only unyieldingdetermination. He took a deep breath before he spoke.
"What did Dan tell you?"
"Enough," Barr grunted. "We had the truth from a babe's mouth."
"But--"
Dabb interrupted. "What made ye set your mind on the thought that aWhitney kil't Blazer?"
"Didn't you?"
"We do not pry into killin's," Barr said. "You erred when you did."
Another piece fitted into the puzzle. Evidently Dan had told whoever itwas he had met that he and Jeff were out to avenge Johnny, and doubtlesshe'd said that Jeff was an officer. Jeff pondered Dabb's question andBarr's comment. It was possible, even probable, that only his killerknew who had shot Johnny. Whoever was guilty would be a fool if he wasanything except close-mouthed about it.
"Leave us shoot him," Pete said nasally. "'Twill serve naught to doelsewise."
"I said we'd wait," Barr growled.
Jeff breathed a little easier. The Whitneys intended to shoot him, butnot immediately and he wondered what they were waiting for and why.Perhaps, as Barr had mentioned, they were too close to Smithville, andin order to remain unseen, perhaps they would wait until night to takehim out. Maybe there were other reasons, but evidently he had a littletime. Jeff took a shot in the dark.
"I'll be missed in Ackerton."
"We know," Barr muttered. "The boy said it all."
Jeff moistened dry lips with his tongue. His chance shot had ricocheted;whatever story Dan had concocted tied in with Jeff's trip to Ackerton.He had to think his way out of this.
"People will be looking for me."
"They won't find you," Barr promised. "But could be they'll find us."
Jeff said pointedly, "Five against one?"
"You had a shotgun when you come in."
"And if I'd known who was waiting, I'd have come shooting. But you canall cheer up. Maybe those who look for me won't expect to need guns, andyou can take them just like you did me. Maybe they won't even have guns.Then you can shoot them down from ambush, _like you did Johnny Blazer_!"
Six pairs of eyes regarded him, and only Pete's remained unchanged. Therest shifted from deliberate purposefulness to cold fury, and Barr'sface turned white. His lips tautened, and he bit his words off and spatthem at Jeff.
"Ye lie!"
"I do not lie!"
Swiftly Barr closed the distance between them. His left hand snakedforward and his open palm struck Jeff's cheek. It was not a blow that aman might offer a worthy antagonist, but an insulting slap. Barr's eyeswere glowing coals.
"Ye lie, policeman! Nary a man in the hills shot Blazer thataway!"
Jeff snarled back, "I don't lie and I can prove it!"
His face still white, Barr stepped back. He jerked his rifle toshooting position and lowered it reluctantly. Tense as stretchedbuckskin, he studied Jeff and snapped, "Say those words ag'in!"
"Johnny Blazer not only had no gun when he was shot, but whoever shothim was hiding when he did it!" Jeff pronounced each word very slowlyand very clearly, as though he were rehearsing a careful speech.
"How d'ye know he lacked aught to shoot back?"
"I--" Jeff thought of Bill Ellis and caught himself in time. "I sawsomeone who found him on my Ackerton trip. Johnny had no gun when theypicked him up."
"Shut up!" Barr whirled furiously on his cousin who had started tospeak. He said, more to himself than to anyone else, "Blazer's guns_was_ found in his cabin."
Jeff laughed tauntingly. "You hillbillies are brave men! Now all youhave to do is admit that whoever shot Johnny was hiding in the brush."
Still furious, Barr regarded him steadily. "How do ya know that?"
"All I had to do was look."
"What'd ya look at?"
Jeff answered contemptuously, "I wouldn't expect any of you to thinkthat far, but the bullet went clear through Johnny. There are enoughtrees and shrubs around so that it had to nick one of them. It's easy tofigure the angle it came from."
Jeff held his breath. He himself had not thought of this until now, butit had to be right. Johnny Blazer was a woodsman. If whoever shot himhad been in the open, Johnny would have seen him. Because he wasunarmed, he probably would have died anyhow. But he would have died inthe brush for he would at least have tried to escape.
Slow-thinking Dabb digested Jeff's statement and spoke solemnly. "Hit'sright, Barr. None among us thought to look."
Barr was momentarily bewildered. "None saw the need."
"But need there might be."
"Go look, Dabb."
"I'll gao, too," Pete offered.
"Dabb's goin'."
Rifle in the crook of his arm, Dabb left the cabin. Jeff waiteduneasily. Dabb's education might be a bit short in the conjugation ofverbs and the more complex forms of mathematics, but it had taught himall about ballistics. When he came back he would know whether or notJohnny had been shot from ambush.
If he hadn't been--Jeff looked at Barr's stormy eyes and shuddered.
Twenty minutes later, Dabb returned. He came slowly, and somewhatshrunkenly, as though he had been both derided and belittled. He stoodin the doorway, not looking at the rest, and when he spoke his voice wasmuffled and reluctant.
"Hit's true, Barr. Hit's true enough. Whosoever shot Blazer wascrouchin' in a little patch of evergreens a hunnert an' fifty steps fromthe road." He said, as though that was vastly important, "With my owneyes I sa
w his crouch. He broke some twigs the better to see."
Something came into the cabin with him, an unseen but heavy and mournfulsomething that seemed, within itself, to rob everyone of the power ofspeech. The Whitneys looked sidewise at each other and Barr spokeslowly,
"Thus ye saw?"
"Thus I saw."
"Whar did the lead strike?"
"The tree," Dabb answered dully. "Hit's buried in the tree."
There was silence which Barr broke with a soul-desolated cry, "This dayI know shame!"
They were weighted as though by heavy burdens, and Jeff understood whythey scourged themselves. By the cowardly action of one of their number,something they could never get back had been taken from all of them.They must hang their heads because among them walked a man who was not aman. Jeff rubbed salt into their wounds.
"You can all be proud of yourselves."
It was as though they did not hear. This terrible crime, this heinoussin, had been committed, but they did not want to believe.
Grant said hopefully, "Maybe 'twar an outlander."
"'Twar no outlander," Barr muttered. "'Twas a hill man."
Jeff trembled, fired with another idea. If the tree could talk, he hadthought, it might tell who shot Johnny Blazer. _The tree could talk!_
"Are you afraid to find out who did it?" he challenged.
Barr glowered at him. "An' how do we do that!"
"Dig the bullet out of the tree."
"Pay nao heed to him!" Pete intoned. "He would but tangle us an' lead usfrom him."
"Hold your tongue!" Barr ordered gruffly. "No man walks safe with oneamong us who shoots men as he would a varmint! Get the bullet, Dabb!"
Dabb left a second time and Jeff hoped his wildly beating heart couldnot be heard. To these mountain men killing was right, as long as menmet in a fair fight. But it was soul-blackening, the extreme depths ofdegradation, to kill as Johnny Blazer's killer had, and that killer wasabout to be known. Only one rifle could have fired the fatal shot, andthe hill men would recognize that bullet and know who had fired it. Orwould they? Four of the Whitneys present carried thirty caliber riflesand there must be more in the hills. Jeff's hopes alternately rose andwaned.
Then Dabb came back and held up the leaden slug so all could see. Fourpairs of eyes swung accusingly on Pete. Mushrooming where it had struckJohnny and then the tree, the slug still retained its shape where it hadfitted its brass shell. There could be no mistake; it was fifty caliber.
Sweat broke out on Pete's forehead. "Hit--Hit--'Twarn't me!"
Barr spat, "'Twar you!"
"He--he stole pelts out'en my traps!"
"You met him unfair!"
Pete half screamed. "He had a rifle an' shot afore I did!"
Barr said relentlessly, "Whar was his rifle?"
"I--I brought it back here!"
"He had no rifle! You lay like a whiskered cat afore a mouse's den an'gave him no fairness. Do not add a lie to cowardice."
Jeff said eagerly, "Now you know, Barr. Now all of you know, and Dan didtell part of the truth. I promised him that we'd find out who shot hisfather. It was all we wanted and all we will want. I am not apoliceman."
Barr looked squarely at him. "So you say."
"It's true. Go to Ackerton and find out what I did there. And think alittle. Neither the Whitneys nor anyone else can take the law into theirown hands and forever keep it there. Do the right thing now."
"An' what is that?"
"Take Pete into Smithville and turn him over to Bill Ellis. He'll get afair trial."
"_Pah!_" Yancey exploded. "Give our kin into the law's keep? 'Tis bestto shoot him ourselves!"
"Stop the talkin'." Barr was still looking at Jeff. "You say ye are apeddler an' naught else?"
"I say so."
"Yet, you saw fit to beholden yourself to the boy? You took it uponyourself to tell him you'd settle with whosoever shot his father?"
"I did."
"Then, be ye peddler or policeman, you shall."
"What do you mean?"
"We'll bide here through the day," Barr pronounced. "With the night weshall go to a cabin on Trilley Ridge. You have a shotgun an'," Barrinclined a contemptuous head toward Pete, "he has a rifle. With thedawn, both at the same time, ye'll walk on Trilley Ridge. If you comedown the ridge, peddler, ye'll be free to come an' go amongst us. IfPete comes down it, he has a twenty-four hours to leave the hills. Ishall sit with ye in the cabin. Grant, Dabb an' Yancey shall be at thefoot of Trilley Ridge, to shoot should one of ye flee rather thanfight."
Grant, Dabb and Yancey nodded solemn agreement. Jeff's head reeled. Withtomorrow's dawn, he was to fight a death duel with Pete Whitney. Barrwould be with them all night to make sure that things went according tohis fantastic plan. Dabb, Grant and Yancey would be waiting to killwhoever violated the terms of the duel. If Jeff won, even though hewould be privileged to remain in the hills, he would have killed a man.Regardless of what happened or who won, the Whitneys would have ridthemselves of an unwelcome kinsman and closed the mouth of one who mightbe a policeman.
Jeff licked dry lips. He had never killed a man and knew that he couldnever kill. He tried to think of some way out, of something he could do,and there was nothing. Jeff licked his lips again.
"What say you?" Barr demanded.
"It--it's a crazy idea!"
"'Tis what ye wanted, what ye told the boy you'd git."
"I didn't tell him I'd get it this way. For heaven's sake, man, listento reason! The law, and not me, should take care of this."
Barr's eyes flamed. "Are ye a policeman?"
"No!"
"The boy said different."
"Mebbe," Grant said slowly, "'twould be best to shoot him. I'll go onTrilley Ridge with--with who used to be my kin."
Jeff heaved a great sigh. First things first, always a new customer downthe road, and if he went on the ridge, he would have time to think. Ifhe did not, his hours were numbered anyway. He said slowly, "Let it beyour way, Barr."
Barr said quietly, "'Tis well ye say so, for 'twould not be right shoulda Whitney shoot a Whitney or be shot by one. D'ye lack aught?"
"My pack."
Barr looked curiously at him but Jeff made no attempt to satisfy hiscuriosity. He'd always been able to pull almost anything he needed outof his pack and there should be something to help him now. He couldn'tthink of what it was, but the pack had been a part of him for so longthat he would feel better if he had it.
"Whar's the pack?" Barr asked.
"At Granny Wilson's."
"Get it an' fetch it," Barr directed Yancey. "D'ye need aught else?"
Jeff's brain was still whirling. "No."
Barr glanced inquiringly at Pete, who stared like a vicious animal andsaid nothing. There was finality in Barr's words. "Ask no more for itshall not be given. Both have had your say."
The words hammered dully at Jeff's ears. Then he awoke with a start andswallowed twice. For the first time he became aware of the shotgunshells that weighted his pocket. They were even more harmless than somany stones, for they were still loaded with paper.
But he'd been given a chance to speak and he had not spoken.
* * * * *
Pal went wild with joy when Jeff returned from Ackerton. He stayed asclose as he could get, for he had missed his master greatly and neededhim sorely. He smirked at the white kitten when he spotted it, but madeno hostile move because Jeff had brought it. Wholly contented, Pal layat Jeff's feet while he breakfasted and talked with Granny and Dan.
When Jeff rose to leave, Pal danced happily to the door and wagged histail in anticipation. Everything was once more as it had been andshould be. They were about to go peddling together on the trails. Thebig dog glanced back to see if Dan was coming, too. Instead, the boygrasped his collar.
"You stay here."
Pal flattened his ears and drooped his tail. But he was not allowed togo. For a full minute he stood hopefully in front of the door. Then hewent
sadly back into the kitchen.
Playing with a ball of paper that Granny had wadded up and thrown on thefloor, the fluffy kitten arched its back and spat. Pal paid noattention. His heart was heavy and joy had gone with Jeff.
All the rest of the morning he was a wooden dog who did not even rousehimself when Yancey Whitney came to the door, said that Jeff wanted hispack, and went away with it. That afternoon he followed Dan about thehill, but he had no eyes for the sheep, the cow, the mule, and he lackedzest even for chasing blackbirds that came to pillage Granny's garden.He cared only about the trail up which Jeff had come and down which hehad gone again.
That night, after Dan and Granny had gone to bed, Pal padded restlesslyover to the door. Eagerly he sniffed every wind that blew and everyscent that tickled his nose. He knew when six deer, feeling safe in thecover of night, came out of the forest and climbed the hill to graze inthe sheep pasture. He heard a mouse rustle, and he was aware when anight-flying owl cruised past the door. All these things he smelled orheard. He felt only the absence of his master.
The night was very deep and very black when Pal's yearning for Jeffbecame unbearable. He pushed his nose against the door, and when he didso the latch rattled slightly. He pricked up his ears and bent his headtoward the noise, but he did not understand any of the mysterious waysby which people fastened things.
Softly he reared against the door, sniffing at every crack. Gettingdown, he trembled anxiously. Then, inch by inch, he began a secondinspection of the door.
It was completely accidental when, in raising his head, he pushed thelatch upward and the door swung open. Pal did not linger to think aboutanything else; he knew only that the way was clear. He flew into thenight, found Jeff's trail and raced along it.
At Johnny Blazer's cabin, he scented Jeff's trail and that of fiveWhitneys--the pack-laden Yancey had gone back there--leading into thehills. Pal followed along.
He halted momentarily at the foot of Trilley Ridge, for Dabb Whitney wassitting on a big rock and the smell of his pipe was rank and heavy inthe darkness. Pal slipped past, knowing that he could not be seen in thenight. He caught the odor of wood smoke. Then, mingled with it, were thescents of Pete and Barr Whitney and of Jeff. Abandoning the trail, Palfollowed his nose to his beloved master.
He came to the cabin and scratched on the door.
12. SURPRISE
They came to the cabin on Trilley Ridge after dark, Jeff and Petewalking side by side and Barr silent behind them. Jeff balanced the packon his shoulders and was glad he had it there. It was an old friend andhad always been a true one. He had been in trouble many times while itwas on his shoulders, but he had never stayed in trouble.
As they walked he tried to pinpoint directions, but because of thedarkness he could not do so. They had left the road for a path so faintthat the casual traveler would not even see it as he passed. There wasanother path, and still another, and all of it was country that the hillmen knew well but that Jeff did not know at all. When they finallyreached the cabin, he was sure only that it was north of the road. Butit would not have been an unpleasant journey if Pete had not beenwalking with him.
Found out, Pete had retreated sullenly into himself and Jeff againthought of an animal. But Pete was no ordinary savage thing that mightattack because it was hungry or seeking a fight. He planned, and hiddenbehind his weak blue eyes was a crafty brain. Jeff knew that Pete'sonly thought revolved around ways to kill him, and it was a cold thingto know.
The men came to the cabin and Barr said, "This is hit."
Jeff spoke over his shoulder. "You sure the place isn't haunted?"
"No ha'nts." Barr seemed perplexed, as though there was something aboutthe mission he no longer understood. "Push the door an' go in."
"Sure," Jeff said agreeably.
He opened the door and felt Pete go tense beside him. Jeff gripped hisshotgun with both hands, preparing to bring it crashing down on theman's head. Pete would kill without imperiling himself, if he could, andalmost his only chance would occur when they entered the dark cabin. ButBarr knew this too.
"Stay here," he ordered his cousin. And to Jeff, "Got a match in yourpocket?"
"Yep."
"Go in by yourself an' light hit. Strike hit to the tallow candlethat'll be settin' on the table."
Jeff entered, felt the cabin's walls enclose him, and had a strangefeeling that Barr Whitney was a complete fool. It would be simple toswing suddenly, cock the shotgun as he swung and, always supposing hehad some live ammunition, send a leaden hail back through the door. Thenhe understood.
Barr was no fool. He had merely gauged Jeff and he knew men. He hadknown that Pete would turn and shoot if sent in first, but Jeff wouldnot. Besides, Jeff thought wryly, though Pete might be forced to standin any line of fire that might sweep out the door, Barr would beelsewhere.
Jeff took a match from his pocket, struck it, and looked around thecabin. It was one fairly large room, and at the far end was a naturalstone fireplace. There was a table, three chairs, two double bunks builtone on top of the other, cooking utensils hanging from wooden pegsdriven into the wall, and small windows. The cabin was either abachelor's home or else it was used only on occasion by some person orpersons who had reason to spend time here. Jeff touched his dying matchto the fat tallow candle that stood on the table and flicked the burnedmatch onto the floor.
"Come on in," he said cheerfully. "And welcome to our happy home!"
Pete's face was cold, and that was almost the only expression. He strodeto a chair, pulled it away from the table and sat down with his rifleacross his lap. Jeff stood his shotgun in a corner and turned to faceBarr.
"Snug little den," he said pleasantly.
Barr looked puzzled and said nothing. However, the burning determinationand the sternness were partly gone from his face. This was a seriousbusiness but Jeff was not accepting it seriously. Never flicking hiseyes from his captives, Barr pulled a chair very close to the door.
"Here we be," he pronounced, "an' here we stay 'til the sun lightens thetopmost twigs on the big pines."
"That's cute," Jeff declared admiringly. "That's really cute!"
Barr glared at him. "What is?"
"Your description. ''Til the sun lightens the topmost twigs on the bigpines.' Not exactly poetry, but it has a poetic spirit. Well, if we'regoing to be here all night, we should do something besides glare at eachother."
He slid out of the pack, laid it on the table and stretched. Then hestifled a yawn. He'd had no sleep last night and evidently he'd get nonetonight, but more than once he'd had to stay awake as long, and he coulddo it again.
"If you be weary," Barr indicated the bunks, "you might sleep."
"Thanks," Jeff declined, "but I'm afraid I'd have bad dreams. Besides,this may be my last chance to talk with you. What'll we talk about,Barr?"
Barr broke out suddenly, "I can't plumb ya. Can't plumb ya a'tall!"
Jeff said smoothly, "It's easy. I'm not a complex person. I'll tell youmy life story if you want to hear it. Won't cost you a cent."
"I swan!" Barr ejaculated. "I could like ye a lot if'n I didn't--"
"If you didn't think I was a policeman? Sorry I can't change your mindon that subject. But I'm not."
Barr's eyes searched Jeff's. "Why'd the boy say it?"
Jeff shrugged. "If I knew why boys say things, I'd be a lot smarter thanI am."
"But ya did tell the boy ya'd find out who kil't Blazer?"
"Yup."
"Yet, now ye got the chanst, you'd pass it by?"
"This is a chance? I don't want to kill anybody. I never promised Dananything except that we'd find his father's murderer. Afterwards I wasgoing to turn him over to the law."
Barr wrinkled his brows. "But ye be no policeman?"
"I'm not," Jeff said flatly. "Barr, what had you intended to do withme?"
It was Barr's turn to shrug. "Shoot ya."
"And in your opinion, that was right?"
Barr said fiercely, "A body don't stop
to think should he tromp on itshaid does he find a pizen snake on his h'arthstone!"
Jeff lapsed into silence. His life story he had offered in jest, but heunderstood Barr's. His ancestors had been among the first to come toAmerica, and they had come because there wasn't room enough for them inEurope. But neither had there been room enough in America's scatteredcolonies for people so fierce, reckless and proud. They had either leftthe settlements of their own accord or been driven out. They had wantedabove all to live by their own personal inclinations and not by ruleswhich they had little part in making. Always they had sought the wildestand most inaccessible places because only there could they live as theymust.
Barr Whitney typified this wild independence, which couldn't possiblyendure. Sooner or later even the hill clans must submit to the forwardmarch of civilization and Jeff hoped that the advancing juggernaut wouldnot crush them completely. The spirit they represented always had beenand always would be necessary to free people. Probably the older oneswould go down fighting; certainly they would never learn that they mustbend themselves to others. Perhaps their children, or their children'schildren, would.
Jeff shrugged. That was to come. This was now, and neither civilizationnor anything else had as yet tamed Barr Whitney. Jeff rubbed a hand onhis trousers.
"You ail?" Barr asked.
"My hand's twitching."
"The oil of shunk an' the grease of b'ar, mixed two of one to one of theother, an' cooked on a hick'ry fire when the moon's near horn points towater, will drive out ary itch."
Jeff grinned. "Can't wait for the moon's near horn to point to water,and besides I don't want a cure. When my hand twitches, I'm lucky."
Pete moved so swiftly that he seemed in one split second to be sittingon his chair and then, magically, to be standing with his rifle at halfraise. But quick as he was, Barr was quicker. His rifle cracked, a lockof hair detached itself from Pete's head to float softly to the floor,and before the sound died Barr had levered another cartridge into thechamber. He spoke as casually as though he had just shot at a squirrel.
"Next'un's goin' through your haid, Pete. Si' down."
Pete sat. Barr grinned. Jeff dared let himself think of the prospectthat awaited.
Tomorrow morning, side by side and at exactly the same time, Jeff andPete would be allowed to leave the cabin. Jeff pulled his stomach in, asthough he could already feel Pete's slug ripping through it. Again hepondered escaping, but all he could think of was what he had alreadyconsidered.
If he ran, one of the waiting Whitneys would shoot him down when he cameoff the ridge. There was little chance of doing anything tonight; Barrwas along to see that he didn't. He couldn't protect himself with paperbullets. Jeff had a wild notion of whirling as they stepped out thedoor, smashing Pete over the head with the muzzle of his shotgun, andtrying to claim him as prisoner. But that was a very wild plan which hadalmost no chance of success. Pete was far too quick and far too expert arifleman.
Jeff put such thoughts behind him. No man could do anything well if hetried to do more than one thing at a time, and first things must befirst. He shivered.
"How about a fire, Barr?"
"Lay a blaze if'n ye want. Thar's wood in the box."
Jeff laid a fire, lighted it and stood with his back to the fireplace asflames crackled. He looked at a darkened window and had a curiousthought that this night would never end. It should, he decided, havepassed long ago. But when he looked at his watch, it was only half pastnine.
He should be hungry but he wasn't. They'd eaten in Johnny Blazer'scabin, and now he was too nervous to eat. After a very long interval, helooked again at his watch.
It was a quarter to ten.
Jeff glanced at his pack and created mental images of the goods itcontained. There were knives, fishing tackle, a half dozen new mouthorgans, fiddle strings, gay ribbons, scissors, needles--He had boughtonly what the hill people wanted, and among all of it he could not thinkof a single article that would help him now.
Jeff set his jaw. Maybe, if there was something to do, time would notdrag so slowly and, besides, he could think better when he was busy."Play cards?" he invited.
"No." Barr shook his head.
"Oh, come on!"
Barr tipped his head toward Pete, who sat motionless, with his rifleacross his lap. Unmoving, he missed nothing and was ready at a splitsecond notice to take advantage of anything that offered.
"Take his rifle away," Jeff urged. "You can still watch him."
"A body has the right to keep his rifle."
"He sure is nursing it." Jeff felt reckless. "How about sitting in,Pete? We don't have to shoot each other before morning."
Pete refused to answer. Jeff pulled his chair to the table and tried toentertain himself with solitaire. But he was too tense and strained toconcentrate, and when he found himself adding the four of hearts to theseven of spades, he shoved the cards across the table and let them laythere. Restlessly he threw another chunk of wood on the fire and turnedto Barr.
With no noise, and almost without effort, Barr rose. His eyes were alertand his face was intent. He backed, so that while continuing to commandthe cabin and the two in it, he could control the door, too. There was arasping scratch on the door and Barr said softly, "See what's thar. Seewho's a'visitin'."
Jeff opened the door and Pal panted in. His ears were flat and his tailhang-dog as, giving Barr a wide berth and glancing suspiciously at Pete,he went to the far end of the cabin and stood. Not knowing whether ornot he was to be punished for leaving Granny's, he looked expectantly athis master. Jeff laughed and twitched his fingers.
"Come here, you old flea cage."
Grinning happily, Pal came at once and Jeff brushed his shaggy head withan affectionate hand. He was less tense and, strangely, his anxietylessened. The great dog wagged an ecstatic tail while Jeff continued topat his head.
For a short space, delighted to be near each other once more, neitherhad paid attention to anything else. Pal licked Jeff's face with a big,sloppy tongue and wagged everything from his muzzle to the tip of histail. He turned to growl at Barr and Pete, and Barr flicked his rifle.
"I wouldn't leave him try it."
"I won't," Jeff promised.
He slipped two fingers beneath Pal's collar, led him over to the tableand sat down. Bending over Pal, as though continuing to caress him, hehoped Barr could not hear his pounding heart, and was glad his eyes werehidden. After a moment, Jeff raised his head.
He looked too casually at the candle that flickered a foot from hishand. Trying to appear disinterested, he gauged Pete's exact distanceand Barr's position. He moistened dry lips with his tongue and reviewedhis suddenly-formed plan.
Even though he risked a burned hand doing it, he was positive that hecould snuff the candle out before Barr could shoot. Then he'd tip thetable over and fight his way out. Jeff nibbled his lower lip and lookeddoubtfully at Pal. Barr was supple as an eel and strong as an ox; Jeffmight need help and could he count on Pal?
Barr asked suspiciously, "What ye flustered about?"
Jeff muttered silently at himself. He had a plan. If it was desperate,the situation called for desperate measures. But everything depended onsurprise. To give Barr the slightest warning would also give him time toshoot Jeff. It went without saying that he would then be able to shootPal, and Jeff hadn't the least doubt that Barr would be happy to doboth. He forced a laugh.
"It's just nice to see something around here that's not hell-bent toshoot something else."
Barr remained alert. "Whar'd ye get Blazer's dog?"
"Found him over beyond Cressman," Jeff said truthfully. "Do you keepdogs?"
"Houn's," Barr admitted. "Wouldn't pester myself with a no-account dogsuch as that."
Jeff cast for a way to lull Barr. "Depends on what you want in a dog,wouldn't you say?"
"Could. What do you want?"
Jeff did his best to look like a man who faces a desperate situation,but who was mightily cheered because his dog saw fit to
track him down.If he did everything exactly right, and with split-second precision, hisplan had at least an even chance of working.
Escape would not solve everything. Pete would still be unpunished and ifthe Whitneys should meet him, Jeff, again, they would not bother to takehim prisoner. They'd shoot on sight. But he could name Johnny Blazer'skiller. That would start things, and maybe he'd be able to finish them.
Regardless of what might happen in the future, this was now. Jeff had toget out of the cabin before he could do anything else, but it was asthough Barr could read his mind.
"You're ponderin'," he accused.
"Is that a crime in these hills?"
"If," Barr said deliberately, "you try to make a break, I'll kill ye inyour tracks. I have spoke it."
Jeff said irritably, "Don't be a darn fool!"
"Don't you be one, nuther. You're gettin' a chanst."
"Yes," Jeff sighed, "a big chance." He looked again at the candle. "Anyof your hounds ever get you out of jail, Barr?"
"_Pah!_ How might a houn' do such?"
"Well, Pal got me out."
"Those words I mistrust."
"He did," Jeff insisted. "It was in Cressman--"
He told of the Cressman jail and of how he was literally thrown out ofit because, when he played the mouth organ, Pal howled. He spoke ofinquiring the way to Delview as a ruse to throw Pop and Joe Parker fromhis trail, for he suspected that they had intended to have himrearrested there. Instead of going to Delview, he had come over thehills to Smithville.
Barr chuckled derisively. "Peddlin' teach you sech tall tales?"
"It's true."
"Ha! You toot music an' the dog howls?"
"Let me show you."
Jeff took a mouth organ from his pack, blew a soft note and Palresponded with a moaning wail that trailed out on a soft soprano note.
Barr seemed dumfounded. "Doggone!"
Jeff's eyes strayed to the candle. Barr rose, wrenched it from itsdrippings and put it down at the far end of the table. He resumed hisseat. "I can see best when hit's thar," he announced grimly. "You wa'nthavin' notions 'bout that candle, was you?"
"Why, no, of course not."
Jeff managed to appear innocent, even while he mentally kicked himself.His chance had come and gone. There'd be another chance and Barr seemedmore at ease.
"This night I learn't what I knew not. A dog howls to noise."
"This one does."
"Make him do hit ag'in. 'Tis a mighty curious thing."
Jeff blew another note and Pal howled again. Barr's eyes sparkled. Anelemental creature himself, he was interested in the elemental and thisfascinated him. He must find the answer, but while seeking it he did notforget to keep his eyes on Jeff and Pete.
"Why's he do hit?" he asked.
"I don't know," Jeff admitted. "Can't figure it myself."
"Have him do hit some more."
At the first note, Pal obliged with a banshee wail that subsided, thengathered force and mounted again. The sound filled the cabin and offeredthe illusion of being not only real, but all reality. It was as thoughthe door burst open of its own accord, and Jeff rubbed his eyes indisbelief.
Ike Wilson stood framed in the doorway.
He was slim, supple, smiling, but behind the smile there was somethinghard as stone and there was nothing to provoke humor in the cocked,double-barreled shotgun he carried. Half erect in his chair, Barr frozethere. Pete's face turned white. Ike grinned happily.
"Hi, peddler!"
"Hi, Ike! Where the blazes did you come from?"
"Broadview Prison. Stopped by Granny's an' she told me you was about.Heerd the dog howl an' calc'lated you'd be nigh." His chuckle was richand very audible. "I didn't expect a hul nest of you. Good thing Ipeered in the window glass afore I come in."
Barr snarled, "This ain't your mix!"
"Oh, yes, it is! Yes, it is my mix! Now just hand me that lil' old riflegun, Barr. Stock foremost."
Fighting against so doing but unable to help himself, Barr relinquishedhis rifle. Ike threw it through the open door.
"Now, Pete," he coaxed, "I need your'n."
Pete remained rooted. Smiling, but with a deadly something behind thesmile, Ike tightened his finger on the shotgun's trigger.
"Don't like to shoot settin' pat'tidges, but I will."
Pete handed his rifle over. Ike tossed it out and slammed the door.Holding the shotgun with one hand, he drew a length of buckskin from hispocket and whipped it straight. He spoke as though he were addressing apetulant child. "Now just put your hands behin't the chair, Barr. Thisshotgun might go off accidental like, an' it makes quite a hole."
Tight-lipped, Barr did as he was ordered. Expertly Ike laced his handsand then his feet. He approached Jeff apologetically.
"'Feard I'll have to tie you too, peddler."
"But--"
"Now don't gimme no fuss." Ike rubbed the friendly Pal's head. "Jest dolike Uncle Ike says."
Jeff thrust his hands behind the chair and permitted himself to bebound. Ike slipped a rawhide thong through Pal's collar and tied him tothe chair rung. He stood erect and looked around, his manner that of onewho has just done a job and done it well.
Jeff asked, "What's the big idea, Ike?"
Ike chuckled again. "Business! Say, how come these Whitneys had a gun onyou?"
"Barr," Jeff inclined his head, "had the idea that I'm a policeman."
"Fer snort's sake!" Ike faced Barr. "Your brain soft? He's a peddler an'a good 'un. I ought to know. I was in jail with him."
"Leave me loose," Barr snarled, "an' I won't hurt ye."
"'Pears to me you won't anyhow."
"Ye'll not git back down the ridge!"
"Now, now," Ike soothed, "jest leave that to Uncle Ike. I got up it,didn't I?"
Ike whirled to face Pete and something inside of Jeff turned cold. Hehad seen angry men, but suddenly he knew that not even Barr Whitney wasas strong in anger as Ike Wilson. It was an inward quality, foroutwardly he remained very gentle and he did not raise his voice.
"I come fer Bucky."
Pete muttered sullenly, "Got nothin' to do with Bucky."
"Oh, yes, you have," Ike corrected him. "Yes, you have. Bucky's still inBroadview, but you're goin' to help get him out. Bet that if youstrained yourself, you could mind the night we got Wheeler's chickens.You was goin' to stay behin't, you said, an' leave us know shouldsomebody come. But when the police come, you was a long ways behin't.What'd they pay you fer turnin' us in, Pete?"
Sweat glistened on Pete's brow. "I had naught to do with it!"
"You'll never git anywhere, Pete, lyin' in such a way. Are you comin'like a little man, or am I goin' to scatter your spare parts from hereto Cressman?"
Pete gasped, "What you goin' to do with me?"
"Jest lay in the hills," Ike soothed. "Leastwise we'll lay thar 'til Ican send word to that smart Joe Parker. Goin' to tell him, I am, that Iknow who stuck up the Cressman bank. Goin' to tell him that, when Buckycomes into the hills, he'll find that man tied to a tree. I reckonParker'll swap for that."
"If he doesn't," Jeff said suddenly, "you can offer more. Pete killedJohnny Blazer!"
"He did?" Ike's eyes glowed eagerly. "Now I know I got me a swap! Come'long, Pete."
Herding his captive, he started for the door. Suddenly he stopped andordered, "Wait thar!"
Pete stood still. Ike glided to Jeff, sliced the bonds that tied hishands, and bent to whisper, "Gimme five minutes, peddler--jest fiveminutes an' kiss Granny fer me."
"I will," Jeff promised, "and I'll tell her that you'll deliver one toher yourself in a few days."
He waited ten minutes before stooping to untie his feet. He rose, andbefore freeing Barr he glanced out of one of the small windows.
The first hint of dawn was in the sky and the horizon was endless. Hehad found binding ties in these hills, but somehow he had foundlimitless freedom, too.
JIM KJELGAARD
was born in New York City. Happily e
nough, he was still in thepre-school age when his father decided to move the family to thePennsylvania mountains. There young Jim grew up among some of the besthunting and fishing in the United States. He says: "If I had pursued myscholastic duties as diligently as I did deer, trout, grouse, squirrels,etc., I might have had better report cards!"
Jim Kjelgaard has worked at various jobs--trapper, teamster, guide,surveyor, factory worker and laborer. When he was in the late twentieshe decided to become a full-time writer. He has published severalhundred short stories and articles and quite a few books for youngpeople.
His hobbies are hunting, fishing, dogs, and questing for new stories. Hetells us: "Story hunts have led me from the Atlantic to the Pacific andfrom the Arctic Circle to Mexico City. Stories, like gold, are where youfind them. You may discover one three thousand miles from home or, as inTHE SPELL OF THE WHITE STURGEON, right on your own door step." And headds: "I am married to a very beautiful girl and have a teen-agedaughter. Both of them order me around in a shameful fashion, but I canstill boss the dog! We live in Phoenix, Arizona."
* * * * *
_Books by Jim Kjelgaard_
BIG RED
REBEL SIEGE
FOREST PATROL
BUCKSKIN BRIGADE
CHIP, THE DAM BUILDER
FIRE HUNTER
IRISH RED
KALAK OF THE ICE
A NOSE FOR TROUBLE
SNOW DOG
TRAILING TROUBLE
WILD TREK
THE EXPLORATIONS OF PERE MARQUETTE
THE SPELL OF THE WHITE STURGEON
OUTLAW RED
THE STORY OF THE MORMONS
CRACKER BARREL TROUBLE SHOOTER
THE LOST WAGON
LION HOUND
TRADING JEFF AND HIS DOG
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