THE LAST CIGARS
Trimmer, the lumberman, not to be stayed, had broken in upon McCoppet
ruthlessly, with perceptions unerring concerning the troubles in the
air, when Lawrence was arrested. The gambler consented to an interview
with instinctive regard for his safety. That something significant was
laid on Trimmer's mind he felt with a subtle sense of divination.
The lumberman, smoking furiously, came to his point with utmost
directness.
"Opal," he said, "I'm goin' away, and I want ten thousand dollars. I
want it now. You owe me some you ain't paid up, and now I'm raisin'
the ante."
"You're raising bunions," McCoppet assured him softly, throwing away
his unsmoked cigar and putting a fresh one in his mouth. "I'll pay you
what I agreed--when I get the ready cash."
"Think so, do you, Opal?" inquired the lumberman, eying his man in
growing restlessness. "I think different, savvy? I'm onto you and
your game with Lawrence--you payin' him twenty thousand bucks to fake
the reservation. I want ten thousand right away, in the next ten
minutes, or you'd better pack your trunk."
McCoppet, startled by the accusation, watched the savage manner in
which the lumberman ate up the smoke of his weed. He could think of
one way only in which a man of Trimmer's mentality could have come upon
certain private facts.
"So," he said presently, "you crawled in under this place, this floor,
and caught it through the cracks."
"Knot-hole," said Trimmer gesturing, "that one over there. And I tell
you, Opal, I want that money now. Do you hear? I want it now!" He
smashed his heavy fist upon the table, and off flew the ash of his
cigar.
"What will you do if I refuse?" the gambler asked him coldly. "Wait!
Hold on! Don't forget, my friend, that Culver's murder is up to you,
and I'll give you up in a minute."
The lumberman rose. Every moment that passed increased the danger to
them both.
"Look a-here, Opal," he said in a threatening voice of anger, "I ain't
a-goin' to fool with you no longer. Hear me shout? Culver's up to you
as much as me. You stole the 'Laughin' Water' claim. There's hell
a-sizzlin' down the street right now--down to Lawrence's. If you don't
cough up ten thousand bucks pretty pronto----"
"So, Larry--so, you've split on me already," the gambler interrupted,
rising and narrowing his gaze upon the bloated face. "You've peddled
it maybe, and now you come to me----"
"I ain't peddled nuthin'!" Trimmer cut in angrily. "I didn't tell no
one but Barger, and he ain't no friend of Van Buren's. But Lawrence is
caught. Pratt run out the line, and now it's me that stands between
you and trouble, and I want the money to stand."
McCoppet was far less calm than he appeared. How much was already
really known to the town was a matter wholly of conjecture. And
Trimmer's haste to cash in thus and probably vanish excited his gravest
suspicions. He eyed his friend narrowly.
"Larry, we'll wait and see how much you've maybe leaked."
"No we won't wait fer nuthin'!--not fer nuthin', understand?" corrected
Trimmer aggressively. "I ain't a-trustin' you, Opal, no more! You
done me up at every turn, and now, by God! you're goin' to come to
terms!" He pulled an ugly, rusty gun, and thumped with its muzzle on
the table. "You'll never leave this room alive if I don't git the
money. Ring fer it, Opal, ring the bell, and order it in with the
drinks!"
McCoppet would have temporized. It was not so much the money now as
the state of affairs in the street. How much was known?--and what was
being done? These were the questions in his mind.
"Don't get excited, friend," he said. "If things are out, and you and
I are caught with the aces in our sleeves, we may have to fight back to
back." He was edging around to draw his pistol unobserved,
But Trimmer was alert. "Stand still, there, Opal, I've got the drop,"
he said. "I'm lookin' out fer number one, this morning, understand?
You ring the----"
A sudden, loud knock at the door broke in upon his speech, and both men
started in alarm.
"Opal! Opal!" cried a muffled voice in accents of warning just outside
the door, "Christler's on your trail! Come out! Come out and--huh!
Too late! You'll have to get out the window!"
The roar and excitement of the coming crowd, aroused to a wild
indignation, broke even to the den. An army of citizens, leading the
way for Christler's deputies, was storming McCoppet's saloon.
He heard, and a little understood. He knew too much to attempt to
explain, to accuse even Trimmer to a mob in heat. Nothing but flight
was possible, and perhaps even that was a risk.
He started for the window. Trimmer leaped before him.
"No you don't!" he said. "I told you, Opal----"
"Take that!" the gambler cut in sharply. His gun leaped out with flame
at its end; and the roar, fire, bullet, and all seemed to bury in the
lumberman's body. A second shot and a third did the same--and Trimmer
went down like a log.
His gun had fallen from his hand. With all his brute vitality he
crawled to take it up. One of the bullets had pierced his heart, but
yet he would not die.
McCoppet had snatched up a chair and with it he beat out the window.
Then Trimmer's gun crashed tremendously--and Opal sank against the sill.
He faced his man. A ghastly pallor spread upon his countenance. He
went down slowly, like a man of melting snow, his cigar still hanging
on his lip.
He saw the lumberman shiver. But the fellow crowded his cigar stump in
his mouth, with fire and all, and chewed it up as he was dying.
"Good shot," said McCoppet faintly. His head went forward on his
breast and he crumpled on the floor.