At first it was black as pitch; but I crawled as fast as I could in
the hope of catchin’ up with the Friar. It is instinct with most men
to follow the right wall when goin’ through a strange place in the
dark, though I never could see why. A man carries his weapon in the
right hand and naturally ought to be as free with it as possible.
Still, most men do it, so I follered the right wall, hopin’ each time
I put out my hand it would touch the Friar.
After a time, I saw a faint glimmer o’ light to the left, and I
stopped and pointed it out to The. We came to the conclusion that they
had a candle lighted in the offset where we had come upon the body,
and we discussed whether they were likely to be in there, or had gone
on farther back and left the light to see any one who tried to crawl
after ’em. I held out ’at they wouldn’t expect any one to crawl after
’em; but The said ’at Ty would be likely to go into just such a place
himself, and so would expect others to do the same. Ty certainly had
the way of impressin’ his own men.
When we got a little closer, I lay flat and scanned along the floor,
tryin’ to make out the Friar between me and the light; but I couldn’t
see him, and we went on again. I hope I may never have to do any more
such work as this. Creepin’ along in the dark eats up a feller’s nerve
like a forest fire.
When we got so close ’at I could see my hands by the light, I sent The
across to the other side, remindin’ him to knock his teeth should he
chance upon the Friar, or in case we come together again, ourselves.
Then I lay flat with my hat down low, and nudged myself along with my
elbows and toes. I couldn’t even make out The across the tunnel, which
was only about twelve feet wide, and just for the fraction of a second
it came across me that he had formerly been a Cross-brander, himself;
but this thought didn’t live long enough to draw its second breath.
Finally I reached the spot where the light threw a splash on the walls
and floor, and I made my gun ready and stuck out my neck in what was
the most breathless silence I ever tried to listen to. Across the
splash o’ light in front of me, all was a solid wall o’ darkness; and
I’d have paid over quite a sum to know what eyes were lookin’ out of
it.
Farther and farther I pushed myself into the light without seein’ a
thing; until finally I saw the candle, itself, and beside it—the
Friar.
I wriggled across the tunnel just as The crept into the room from his
side, and we felt a little better to be in the light, together again.
The body still lay again’ the wall, and The looked at the face; but he
didn’t know it. The Friar hadn’t seen or heard anything, either; and
we were up a tree to the top branches. We talked it all over, tryin’
to imagine what we would do under the same circumstances, and finally
decided they had gone on down the tunnel, leavin’ a man on guard just
below the light, and that the man had gone to sleep.
“Well,” sez I after we had discussed things around in a circle for a
while, “here we are holed up again, as cozy as a cavey o’ rats with
traps set at all the openin’s and en-thusiastic terrier dogs diggin’
down from above. If it’s not bein’ too inquisitive, Friar, what plan
did you have in comin’ down here?”
“I wanted to be close to her,” sez Friar Tuck. “I kept thinkin’ o’ how
lonely it must be for her through the dark, and I hoped the’ might be
some chance o’ helpin’ her to escape. I did not have any definite
plan—only faith and hope.”
“Like the shark which swallered the parasol,” sez I, for I was
consid’able put out; “he had faith in his digestion and hoped the
parasol was some new sort o’ health-food. But to get down to
facts—Have you any weapon with you, and are you willin’ to fight?”
“I have no weapon,” sez the Friar; “but I am willin’ to do whatever
seems best. I am trusting in the same power which upheld Gideon, and I
ask to see no farther than he saw.”
This was the Friar all right, so I merely swallowed a couple o’ times
and didn’t say anything. Whether he lived or died was the same to the
Friar, as whether he lived in Idaho or Montana would be to another
man; so I saved myself a certain amount of irritation by just thinkin’
quietly as to what was best for us to try. Fact was, I didn’t take, as
much stock in Gideon just then as I did in Ty Jones.
“I’ll tell you what I think is best,” I sez after a bit; “for me to
crawl down the hall in the hope that the watcher really has gone to
sleep; while you two stand ready in this offset. If they chase me,
I’ll run up the tunnel, and you spring out and take ’em at a
disadvantage as they go by.”
O’ course they both wanted to do the crawlin’, but it was my plan, so
I stuck out for it, and started. I was really glad to be out o’ the
light again, and I crawled as gentle as though crossin’ a bridge of
eggs. Before long my fingers struck a boot, and I felt of it
ex-treme-lee careful. If ever I go blind, my experience durin’ those
days will help consid’able in transferrin’ my eyesight to my fingers.
The feller had toppled over again’ the right wall, and I crept up
alongside, holdin’ my gun by the barrel, and ready to swat his head as
soon as I had located it; but the’ was no use—the man had already
died. He had been shot twice, but they thought he could last a while
on guard, and this was why we had been able to cross the lighted
place.
Just beyond this, I came upon another offset, on the opposite side
from where the candle was. We hadn’t noticed it that mornin’ ’cause we
had gone out along the other wall. I heard some heavy breathin’ in
here; but I also heard some one tossin’ about an’ mutterin’, and I
hardly dared risk an examination. I looked back at the splash of
light, and it seemed mighty cheery and sociable, compared with the
darkness and company I was in.
It’s astonishin’ the way pictures fly across a feller’s mind at such a
time: I saw the boy down at the foot of the stairs, I saw him as he
must have been, a few years before some quick, rash deed of his had
drawn a veil across the laughter in his eyes; I saw the feller in the
offset, and wondered how much it had taken to turn the expression of
his face into that beastlike hunger for revenge, and then dozens of
schemes and plans for capturin’ Ty began to flash upon me; but each
time, the presence of the woman spoiled everything. They had used her
for a shield once, they would do it again, and I couldn’t see a way to
get around her.
We knew ’at Ty had vowed he would never be taken alive; and I couldn’t
see what we would do with him even if we did take him alive; but I
could see that he would take pleasure in draggin’ as big a bunch into
the next world with him as possible, and yet every scheme ’at came to
me was blocked by the presence of the woman. Finally I crept a little
way into the offset. My hand touched a piece of cloth, I felt over it
with nothin’ except the ridges on my fingers touchin’; but just when I
made sure it was the Chink, he moved and sat up. I stopped breathin’;
but after a minute, he sighed and settled back.
I waited a little longer and then crawled back and told what I had
discovered. “If the’ was only some way we could throw a light into
that offset,” sez I, “I think we could fix ’em.”
We studied over this for some time before the Friar thought up a way
which seemed worth tryin’. I said I’d go back and stay at the far side
o’ the openin’, and when they brought the rope back, to come right on
with it along the left wall, and I’d knock my teeth together to show
it was me—provided I was still there and able. So the Friar pulled
off his boots, and The kept watch in the offset while the Friar ran
back. I thought it must be several days since we’d come in, but he
looked at his watch before startin’, and it was only two o’clock.
From where I was, I could make out the shape o’ the feller they had
put on watch, and knew I could keep cases on all within the little
rock room. After an age, I saw two forms creep like ghosts out of the
dark beyond the candle, and ooze into the offset without makin’ a
sound. Then in a moment, Promotheus came stealin’ along the wall with
the end of the rope. I made my signal to him, and he went on down the
tunnel, slowly pullin’ the rope after him.
I was mighty curious to see how they had fixed the lantern, which they
were to light with the candle in the offset, and it made me feel a lot
better when it came out of the recess. Horace had done the fixin’, I
afterward found out, and it had nearly broke his heart not to come in
with it; but he realized that it was necessary to have an outer guard,
so he had stayed with the two Simpson boys. He had put the lantern
into a box after nailin’ a couple o’ short pieces of rope on the
bottom for runners; and now it came slidin’ along without makin’ a
sound. He had sawed a piece out of the side, so that all the light
came up again’ the ceilin’, and onto the side where the openin’ was.
Slowly it came along, and I stood in the shadow watchin’ it. Finally
it fell on the face of the man lyin’ near the openin’, and I saw he
was one of those who had been at Skelty’s that night—for all I know,
it was his hand I had seen raisin’ the window to my room. Next, it
lighted up the openin’, itself; and then The stopped pullin’ and crept
up opposite me. We heard ’em sighin’ and groanin’, in the recess, and
finally the woman’s voice gave a weary moan as she came awake.
In a second, Ty’s voice was heard, askin’ what was the matter; and we
all braced up our nerves. A weak, delirious voice started to babble,
but it was broken by a shot, and a bullet ripped through the box, but
without puttin’ out the light. I started across the hall; but The had
already seen it, and had taken the rope and ran down the tunnel with
it. He turned the box, so ’at just the left edge o’ the light touched
the openin’, and then came across to my side. We weren’t in a black
shadow now; but still, with the light in their faces, it would have
been hard to see us.
A hand reached out of the openin’, and fired in our direction, I
dropped to my knee and aimed at the hand, but neither shot counted;
and for the next few minutes, all we heard was that weak voice,
babblin’ indistinctly. It hadn’t worked out as I thought it would. I
figured that they’d be surprised when the light shone in their faces,
and would rush out and give us a chance. Now that it was too late, I
thought up half a dozen better schemes.
Even while I was thinkin’ up a perfect one, I saw a form come out from
the recess, and threw my gun up—but I didn’t snap the hammer. It was
the woman, and behind her I could make out the shaved head o’ the
Chinaman.
We all stayed silent for some time, an’ then Ty’s voice said: “Well,
what kind of a settlement do you fellers want?”
He spoke as self-composed as though puttin’ through a beef-dicker, and
no reply was made for several seconds. Then, as no one else spoke, I
sez: “All we want is just the woman and what’s left o’ your outfit,
Ty.”
“Who’s that speakin’?” sez Ty.
“He’s generally called Happy Hawkins, Ty,” sez I.
“Who’s in charge o’ your gang?” sez he.
“Dinky Bradford,” sez I after thinkin’ a moment; “but I’m delegated to
speak for him.”
“Tell ya what I’ll do,” sez Ty; “I’ll trade ya the woman for Dinky
Bradford an’ the Singin’ Parson. Send those two in to me, and I’ll
send her out to you.”
This was the foolest proposition ever I heard of. The woman wouldn’t
’a’ been any use to us without the Friar. “Dinky Bradford is guardin’
the mouth o’ the tunnel,” sez I; “but he wouldn’t stand for any such
nonsense, nohow.”
“Is the preacher here?” asked Ty.
“Yes, I am here,” sez the Friar, steppin’ out from the offset and
comin’ toward us. Olaf, who was with him, caught his arm and kept him
from exposin’ himself.
“Damn you,” sez Ty, slow an’ deliberate. “I hate you worse ’n any man
in this territory. You’re at the bottom of all this kick-up. You’re
the one which has turned my own men again’ me; and all I ask is a
chance to settle it out with you.”
“You’re mistaken if you think that I advised this method,” began the
Friar; but Ty broke in, and said: “Never mind any o’ that
preacher-talk. I know what’s what, and I’m all prepared to have you
hide behind your religion, after havin’ started all the trouble. I’ll
offer you a plan which any man would accept—but I don’t class you as
a man. The fair way to settle this would be for the men who are with
us to empty their guns an’ lay ’em on the floor, then you and me strip
to the waist an’ fight it out with knives. They haven’t anything at
stake; but I suppose you’ll be true to your callin’, and make them
take all the risk.”
“I want to be true to my callin’,” sez the Friar; “and fightin’ with
knives isn’t part o’ my callin’.”
Ty laughed as mean as a man ever did laugh; and both Olaf and I
offered to take the Friar’s place; but Ty said he didn’t have anything
special again’ us any more ’n he’d have again’ the Friar’s ridin’
hoss; and then he offered to fight the Friar and Dinky Bradford at the
same time.
He kept on roastin’ the Friar till I bet I was blushin’; but the Friar
just stood out straight in the gloom o’ the tunnel and shook his head
no. Then the woman took a half step forward, an’ the Chink jerked her
back, twistin’ her wrist and makin’ her give a smothered scream.
I had moved the box around to give us a little more light; and when
she screamed, I saw the blood rush up the Friar’s pale face to his
eyes, where it burst into flame. Livin’ fire it was, and in a flash it
had burned away his religion, his scruples again’ violence, the whole
outer shell o’ civilization, and left him just a male human with his
woman in the power of another. “Strip,” he said, and his words rolled
down the tunnel like a growl of a grizzly. “Strip, and fight for your
life, for I intend to destroy you.”
I can still hear the laugh Ty gave when the Friar said this. “Destroy
me?” he said. “Destroy me? That’s a good one! Now, do your men agree
to let us go free if I win?”
“I do,” sez The.
“I do,” said I, after I’d taken another look at the Friar, who was
already unbuttonin’ his shirt.
“I do—if you fight fair,” said Olaf slowly.
“Then one of ya hold the lantern while we empty the guns,” said Ty.
I didn’t like this part of it; but couldn’t see any way out; so while
The held the lantern, one on each side emptied a gun and tossed it to
the center of the tunnel. We emptied all of ours, and they emptied all
of theirs, and then while Ty was takin’ off his shirt, I went up to
the Friar. When I saw the taut muscles ripplin’ beneath his white
skin, I felt comforted; but when I saw him holdin’ his knife point
down, the way they do in the picture-books, I got worried again.
“Take your knife the other way, Friar,” I whispered; “and strike up
under the floatin’ ribs on his left side. That’s the way to his
heart.”
“I know how to fight with a knife,” he snapped; so I didn’t say any
more. Horace had become a gun-fighter, here was the Friar claimin’ to
know the knife game, and if the woman had stepped out and challenged
the winner to a fight with stones, why, I was so meek I wouldn’t ’a’
got het up over it.
Then Ty Jones came out of the other offset, stripped to the waist also
and holdin’ his knife in his left hand. The woman had gone into the
niche on our side, me an’ Olaf leaned again’ our wall, Pepper Kendal
and the Chink leaned again’ the wall opposite us, The held up the
lantern, and for a full minute the only sound was the wounded
Cross-brander, babblin’ out his delirium back in the cave-room.
Ty was a shade beefier ’n the Friar; but his skin was dull, and the
muscles didn’t cut off into the tendons so sharp, nor they didn’t seem
quite so springy or well oiled; but there was half a dozen knife scars
on his chest, and he had come up our way from Mexico.
They walked toward each other, Ty’s eagle eyes an’ wolf-grin tryin’ to
beat down the grim set to the Friar’s face. They both crouched over
an’ circled about each other like a pair o’ big cats. Ty made a few
lunges, but the Friar parried ’em as simple as though it was a game,
and purty soon Ty was forced to slip his knife to his right hand with
the blade pointin’ up for a rip. When he did this, the Friar smiled,
turned his own knife the same way; and I recalled the Friar havin’
told me about learnin’ knife tricks from an I-talian he had helped
back East.
I don’t like knife fightin’, and I don’t approve of it; but I will say
’at this fight was the cleanest, quickest thing I ever saw. The Friar
was the best man, but Ty was the best posted; and time and again the
Friar saved himself by foot work. The follered ’em close with his
lantern, while Olaf and I kept a half watch on the two opposite us.
They kept movin’ faster and faster and the’ was a continuous spattin’
as they parried with their left hands. Finally the Friar grabbed Ty by
the wrist, Ty grabbed the Friar’s wrist at the same time, lowered his
head, and butted the Friar in the pit o’ the stomach. It looked bad;
but the Friar had raised his knee and caught Ty on the chin; so they
staggered apart and breathed deep for a minute, before beginnin’
again.
The grin had left Ty’s face, and it had settled into black hate. When
they began again, the Friar seized Ty’s wrist every chance he got,
twistin’ it, bendin’ the arm, and tryin’ to thrust with his knife; but
Ty was tough and wiry, and managed to twist out every time. At last
the Friar caught Ty’s right wrist, dropped his own knife, ran his head
under Ty’s right arm, caught the slack of his right pant leg, gave a
heave and threw him over his head. It was a clean throw and the Friar
stooped, picked up his knife and started for Ty before he had time to
get to his feet. Ty rolled to his feet and dodged away as though to
run, whirled, took the blade of his knife between thumb and
forefinger, and spun it through the air. It struck the Friar’s
collarbone, cut a gash through his shoulder, and twanged again’ the
wall o’ the tunnel.
The two men eyed each other for a moment, the calm of victory in the
Friar’s eyes, the red of baffled hate in Ty’s. They were about eight
feet apart. “Will you give up?” asked the Friar.
“No,” sez Ty. He doubled up his fists as though to spring, then
whirled and stepped into the offset behind him. In a moment, he came
out with a gun in his hand.
As soon as he had said no, Pepper Kendal an’ the Chink had made a dive
for the offset, and Olaf and I had made a dive for them. I got Pepper
who was old and stiff, and I managed to hit him in the center o’ the
forehead just as Ty came out with his gun. Olaf was havin’ trouble
with the Chink, and I picked up a gun and tapped Pepper on the head
with it, and then turned to knock the Chink. Just as I turned, I saw
the woman walkin’ slowly down the tunnel behind the Friar, and I saw
Ty bend his gun on him. Even then he had to pause a moment to enjoy
his deviltry, and I still see that picture in my dreams—the Friar
standin’ silent and proud, with his head thrown back and his level
eyes full on Ty, while back of him stood the woman as unconcerned as a
snow-bird. About six feet beyond ’em stood Promotheus holdin’ the
light above his head, while his face seemed frozen with horror.
For an instant they stood like stone images. Then The lunged forward
and caught Ty’s arm, the lantern went out, I heard one clear report,
and one muffled one, and then I started for ’em. I bumped into a heavy
form, two naked arms went around me in a bear-grip, and we rolled to
the floor. The candle in our offset had burned out; but I knew it was
the Friar, ’cause his was the only smooth face among us. “This is
Happy,” I muttered, and we rose to our feet.
A struggle was goin’ on beyond us, and I thought it was Olaf and the
Chink; so I lit a match, knowin’ that Ty would ’a’ had plenty o’ time
to get away already. As the match burned up, I saw the Chink lyin’
stretched out, and Olaf and Ty locked together. Olaf had his leg
wrapped around Ty’s, and was bendin’ his back. Ty’s eyes were stickin’
out white an’ gruesome, and he was gurglin’ in the throat. Suddenly,
somethin’ cracked and they both fell to the floor o’ the tunnel just
as the match went out.
I heard hard breathin’, and then Olaf’s harsh voice came out o’ the
darkness. “Well,” he said, “I guess that squares things.”
“What’s happened, what’s happened?” asked a panting voice, and then I
knew ’at Horace hadn’t been able to stand it any longer, and had come
in, game wing and all.
“We’ve settled up with Ty Jones—that’s what’s happened,” said Olaf;
and as we stood there in the gloom, the drip o’ the dawn came rollin’
cold and gray down the slant o’ the tunnel; and I shuddered and turned
away to find somethin’ for my hands to do.