There was no exuberant joy to meet this suggestion. McGuire had, as a
matter of fact, made his territory practically crime-proof for so long
that men had lost interest in planning adventures within the sphere of
his authority. It seemed to the four men of Pollard's gang a peculiar
folly to cast a challenge in the teeth of the formidable sheriff himself.
Even Pollard was shaken and looked to Denver. But that worthy, who had
returned from the door where he was stationed during the presence of the
sheriff, remained in his place smiling down at his hands. He, for one,
seemed oddly pleased.
In the meantime Sandy was setting forth his second and particularly
interesting news item.
"You-all know Lewison?" he asked.
"The sour old grouch," affirmed Phil Marvin. "Sure, we know him."
"I know him, too," said Sandy. "I worked for the tenderfoot that he
skinned out of the ranch. And then I worked for Lewison. If they's
anything good about Lewison, you'd need a spyglass to find it, and then
it wouldn't be fit to see. His wife couldn't live with him; he drove his
son off and turned him into a drunk; and he's lived his life for his
coin."
"Which he ain't got much to show for it," remarked Marvin. "He lives like
a starved dog."
"And that's just why he's got the coin," said Sandy. "He lives on what
would make a dog sick and his whole life he's been saving every cent he's
made. He gives his wife one dress every three years till she died. That's
how tight he is. But he's sure got the money. Told everybody his kid run
off with all his savings. That's a lie. His kid didn't have the guts or
the sense to steal even what was coming to him for the work he done for
the old miser. Matter of fact, he's got enough coin saved--all gold--to
break the back of a mule. That's a fact! Never did no investing, but
turned everything he made into gold and put it away."
"How do you know?" This from Denver.
"How does a buzzard smell a dead cow?" said Sandy inelegantly. "I ain't
going to tell you how I smell out the facts about money. Wouldn't be any
use to you if you knew the trick. The facts is these: he sold his ranch.
You know that?"
"Sure, we know that."
"And you know he wouldn't take nothing but gold coin paid down at the
house?"
"That so?"
"It sure is! Now the point's this. He had all his gold in his own private
safe at home."
Denver groaned.
"I know, Denver," nodded Sandy. "Easy pickings for you; but I didn't find
all this out till the other day. Never even knew he had a safe in his
house. Not till he has 'em bring out a truck from town and he ships the
safe and everything in it to the bank. You see, he sold out his own place
and he's going to another that he bought down the river. Well, boys,
here's the dodge. That safe of his is in the bank tonight, guarded by old
Lewison himself and two gunmen he's hired for the job. Tomorrow he starts
out down the river with the safe on a big wagon, and he'll have half a
dozen guards along with him. Boys, they's going to be forty thousand
dollars in that safe! And the minute she gets out of the county--because
old McGuire will guard it to the boundary line--we can lay back in the
hills and--"
"You done enough planning, Sandy," broke in Joe Pollard. "You've smelled
out the loot. Leave it to us to get it. Did you say forty thousand?"
And on every face around the table Terry saw the same hunger and the same
yellow glint of the eyes. It would be a big haul, one of the biggest, if
not the very biggest, Pollard had ever attempted.
Of the talk that followed, Terry heard little, because he was paying
scant attention. He saw Joe Pollard lie back in his chair with squinted
eyes and run over a swift description of the country through which the
trail of the money would lead. The leader knew every inch of the
mountains, it seemed. His memory was better than a map; in it was jotted
down every fallen log, every boulder, it seemed. And when his mind was
fixed on the best spot for the holdup, he sketched his plan briefly.
To this man and to that, parts were assigned in brief. There would be
more to say in the morning about the details. And every man offered
suggestions. On only one point were they agreed. This was a sum of money
for which they could well afford to spill blood. For such a prize as this
they could well risk making the countryside so hot for themselves that
they would have to leave Pollard's house and establish headquarters
elsewhere. Two shares to Pollard and one to each of his men, including
Sandy, would make the total loot some four thousand dollars and more per
man. And in the event that someone fell in the attempt, which was more
than probable, the share for the rest would be raised to ten thousand for
Pollard and five thousand for each of the rest. Terry saw cold glances
pass the rounds, and more than one dwelt upon him. He was the last to
join; if there were to be a death in this affair, he would be the least
missed of all.
A sharp order from Pollard terminated the conference and sent his men to
bed, with Pollard setting the example. But Terry lingered behind and
called back Denver.
"There is one point," he said when they were alone, "that it seems to me
the chief has overlooked."
"Talk up, kid," grinned Denver Pete. "I seen you was thinking. It sure
does me good to hear you talk. What's on your mind? Where was Joe wrong?"
"Not wrong, perhaps. But he overlooked this fact: tonight the safe is
guarded by three men only; tomorrow it will be guarded by six."
Denver stared, and then blinked.
"You mean, try the safe right in town, inside the old bank? Son, you
don't know the gents in this town. They sleep with a gat under every head
and ears that hear a pin drop in the next room--right while they're
snoring. They dream about fighting and they wake up ready to shoot."
Terry smiled at this outburst.
"How long has it been since there was a raid on McGuire's town?"
"Dunno. Don't remember anybody being that foolish"
"Then it's been so long that it'll give us a chance. It's been so long
that the three men on guard tonight will be half asleep."
"I dunno but you're right. Why didn't you speak up in company? I'll call
the chief and--"
"Wait," said Terry, laying a hand on the round, hard-muscled shoulder of
the yegg. "I had a purpose in waiting. Seven men are too many to take
into a town."
"Eh?"
"Two men might surprise three. But seven men are more apt to be
surprised."
"Two ag'in' three ain't such bad odds, pal. But--the first gun that pops,
we'll have the whole town on our backs."
"Then we'll have to do it without shooting. You understand, Denver?"
Denver scratched his head. Plainly he was uneasy; plainly, also, he was
more and more fascinated by the idea.
"You and me to turn the trick alone?" he whispered out of the side of his
mouth in a peculiar, confidentially guilty way that was his when he was
excited. "Kid, I begin to hear the old Black Jack talk in you! I begin to
hear him talk! I knew it would come!"