SOMETHING YELLOW
The crowd laughed again at the excitement of Morgan, and Silent's
mirth particularly was loud and long.
"An' if you're still bent on charity," he said at last, "maybe we
could find somethin' else to lay a bet on!"
"Anything you name!" said Morgan hotly.
"I suppose," said Silent, "that you're some rider, eh?"
"I c'n get by with most of 'em."
"Yeh--I suppose you never pulled leather in your life?"
"Not any hoss that another man could ride straight up."
"Is that so? Well, partner, you see that roan over there?"
"That tall horse?"
"You got him. You c'n win back that hundred if you stick on his back
two minutes. D'you take it?"
Morgan hesitated a moment. The big roan was footing it nervously here
and there, sometimes throwing up his head suddenly after the manner of
a horse of bad temper. However, the loss of that hundred dollars and
the humiliation which accompanied it, weighed heavily on the saloon
owner's mind.
"I'll take you," he said.
A high, thrilling whistle came faintly from the distance.
"That fellow on the black horse down the road," said Lee Haines, "I
guess he's the one that can hit the four dollars? Ha! ha! ha!"
"Sure," grinned Silent, "listen to his whistle! We'll see if we can
drag another bet out of the bar-keep if the roan doesn't hurt him too
bad. Look at him now!"
Morgan was having a bad time getting his foot in the stirrup, for
the roan reared and plunged. Finally two men held his head and the
saloon-keeper swung into the saddle. There was a little silence. The
roan, as if doubtful that he could really have this new burden on his
back, and still fearful of the rope which had been lately tethering
him, went a few short, prancing steps, and then, feeling something
akin to freedom, reared straight up, snorting. The crowd yelled with
delight, and the sound sent the roan back to all fours and racing down
the road. He stopped with braced feet, and Morgan lurched forwards on
the neck, yet he struck to his seat gamely. Whistling Dan was not a
hundred yards away.
Morgan yelled and swung the quirt. The response of the roan was
another race down the road at terrific speed, despite the pull of
Morgan on the reins. Just as the running horse reached Whistling Dan,
he stopped as short as he had done before, but this time with an added
buck and a sidewise lurch all combined, which gave the effect of
snapping a whip--and poor Morgan was hurled from the saddle like
a stone from a sling. The crowd waved their hats and yelled with
delight.
"Look out!" yelled Jim Silent. "Grab the reins!"
But though Morgan made a valiant effort the roan easily swerved past
him and went racing down the road.
"My God," groaned Silent, "he's gone!"
"Saddles!" called someone. "We'll catch him!"
"Catch hell!" answered Silent bitterly. "There ain't a hoss on earth
that can catch him--an' now that he ain't got the weight of a rider,
he'll run away from the wind!"
"Anyway there goes Dan on Satan after him!"
"No use! The roan ain't carryin' a thing but the saddle."
"Satan never seen the day he could make the roan eat dust, anyway!"
"Look at 'em go, boys!"
"There ain't no use," said Jim Silent sadly, "he'll wind his black for
nothin'--an' I've lost the best hoss on the ranges."
"I believe him," whispered one man to a neighbour, "because I've got
an idea that hoss is Red Peter himself!"
His companion stared at him agape.
"Red Pete!" he said. "Why, pal, that's the hoss that Silent--"
"Maybe it is an' maybe it ain't. But why should we ask too many
questions?"
"Let the marshals tend to him. He ain't ever troubled this part of the
range."
"Anyway, I'm goin' to remember his face. If it's really Jim Silent, I
got something that's worth tellin' to my kids when they grow up."
They both turned and looked at the tall man with an uncomfortable awe.
The rest of the crowd swarmed into the road to watch the race.
The black stallion was handicapped many yards at the start before Dan
could swing him around after the roan darted past with poor Morgan in
ludicrous pursuit. Moreover, the roan had the inestimable advantage
of an empty saddle. Yet Satan leaned to his work with a stout heart.
There was no rock and pitch to his gait, no jerk and labour to his
strides. Those smooth shoulders were corded now with a thousand lines
where the steel muscles whipped to and fro. His neck stretched out
a little--his ears laid back along the neck--his whole body settled
gradually and continually down as his stride lengthened. Whistling Dan
was leaning forward so that his body would break less wind. He laughed
low and soft as the air whirred into his face, and now and then he
spoke to his horse, no yell of encouragement, but a sound hardly
louder than a whisper. There was no longer a horse and rider--the two
had become one creature--a centaur--the body of a horse and the mind
of a man.
For a time the roan increased his advantage, but quickly Satan began
to hold him even, and then gain. First inch by inch; then at every
stride the distance between them diminished. No easy task. The great
roan had muscle, heart, and that empty saddle; as well, perhaps, as a
thought of the free ranges which lay before him and liberty from the
accursed thraldom of the bit and reins and galling spurs. What he
lacked was that small whispering voice--that hand touching lightly now
and then on his neck--that thrill of generous sympathy which passes
between horse and rider. He lost ground steadily and more and more
rapidly. Now the outstretched black head was at his tail, now at his
flank, now at his girth, now at his shoulder, now they raced nose and
nose. Whistling Dan shifted in the saddle. His left foot took the
opposite stirrup. His right leg swung free.
The big roan swerved--the black in response to a word from his rider
followed the motion--and then the miracle happened. A shadow plunged
through the air; a weight thudded on the saddle of the roan; an iron
hand jerked back the reins.
Red Pete hated men and feared them, but this new weight on his back
was different. It was not the pressure on the reins which urged him to
slow up; he had the bit in his teeth and no human hand could pull down
his head; but into the blind love, blind terror, blind rage which
makes up the consciousness of a horse entered a force which he had
never known before. He realized suddenly that it was folly to attempt
to throw off this clinging burden. He might as well try to jump out of
his skin. His racing stride shortened to a halting gallop, this to a
sharp trot, and in a moment more he was turned and headed back for
Morgan's place. The black, who had followed, turned at the same time
like a dog and followed with jouncing bridle reins. Black Bart, with
lolling red tongue, ran under his head, looking up to the stallion now
and again with a comical air of proprietorship, as if he were showing
the way.
It was very strange to Red Pete. He pranced sideways a little and
shook his head up and down in an effort to regain his former temper,
but that iron hand kept his nose down, now, and that quiet voice
sounded above him--no cursing, no raking of sharp spurs to torture his
tender flanks, no whir of the quirt, but a calm voice of authority and
understanding. Red Pete broke into an easy canter and in this fashion
they came up to Morgan in the road. Red Pete snorted and started to
shy, for he recognized the clumsy, bouncing weight which had insulted
his back not long before; but this quiet voiced master reassured him,
and he came to a halt.
"That red devil has cost me a hundred bones and all the skin on my
knees," groaned Morgan, "and I can hardly walk. Damn his eyes. But
say, Dan"--and his eyes glowed with an admiration which made him
momentarily forget his pains--"that was some circus stunt you done
down the road there--that changin' of saddles on the run, I never seen
the equal of it!"
"If you got hurt in the fall," said Dan quietly, overlooking the
latter part of the speech, "why don't you climb onto Satan. He'll take
you back."
Morgan laughed.
"Say, kid, I'd take a chance with Satan, but there ain't any hospital
for fools handy."
"Go ahead. He won't stir a foot. Steady, Satan!"
"All right," said Morgan, "every step is sure like pullin' teeth!"
He ventured closer to the black stallion, but was stopped short. Black
Bart was suddenly changed to a green-eyed devil, his hair bristling
around his shoulders, his teeth bared, and a snarl that came from the
heart of a killer. Satan also greeted his proposed rider with ears
laid flat back on his neck and a quivering anger.
"If I'm goin' to ride Satan," declared Morgan, "I got to shoot the dog
first and then blindfold the hoss."
"No you don't," said Dan. "No one else has ever had a seat on Satan,
but I got an idea he'll make an exception for a sort of temporary
cripple. Steady, boy. Here you, Bart, come over here an' keep your
face shut!"
The dog, after a glance at his master, moved reluctantly away, keeping
his eyes upon Morgan. Satan backed away with a snort. He stopped at
the command of Dan, but when Morgan laid a hand on the bridle and
spoke to him he trembled with fear and anger. The saloon-keeper turned
away.
"Thankin' you jest the same, Dan," he said, "I think I c'n walk back.
I'd as soon ride a tame tornado as that hoss."
He limped on down the road with Dan riding beside him. Black Bart
slunk at his heels, sniffing.
"Dan, I'm goin' to ask you a favour--an' a big one; will you do it for
me?"
"Sure," said Whistling Dan. "Anything I can."
"There's a skunk down there with a bad eye an' a gun that jumps out
of its leather like it had a mind of its own. He picked me for fifty
bucks by nailing a dollar I tossed up at twenty yards. Then he gets a
hundred because I couldn't ride this hoss of his. Which he's made a
plumb fool of me, Dan. Now I was tellin' him about you--maybe I was
sort of exaggeratin'--an' I said you could have your back turned when
the coins was tossed an' then pick off four dollars before they hit
the ground. I made it a bit high, Dan?"
His eyes were wistful.
"Nick four round boys before they hit the dust?" said Dan. "Maybe I
could, I don't know. I can't try it, anyway, Morgan, because I told
Dad Cumberland I'd never pull a gun while there was a crowd aroun'."
Morgan sighed; he hesitated, and then: "But you promised you'd do me a
favour, Dan?"
The rider started.
"I forgot about that--I didn't think----"
"It's only to do a shootin' trick," said Morgan eagerly. "It ain't
pullin' a gun on any one. Why, lad, if you'll tell me you got a ghost
of a chance, I'll bet every cent in my cash drawer on you agin that
skunk! You've give me your word, Dan."
Whistling Dan shrugged his shoulders.
"I've given you my word," he said, "an' I'll do it. But I guess Dad
Cumberland'll be mighty sore on me."
A laugh rose from the crowd at Morgan's place, which they were nearing
rapidly. It was like a mocking comment on Dan's speech. As they came
closer they could see money changing hands in all directions.
"What'd you do to my hoss?" asked Jim Silent, walking out to meet
them.
"He hypnotized him," said Hal Purvis, and his lips twisted over yellow
teeth into a grin of satisfaction.
"Git out of the saddle damn quick," growled Silent. "It ain't nacheral
he'd let you ride him like he was a plough-hoss. An' if you've tried
any fancy stunts, I'll----"
"Take it easy," said Purvis as Dan slipped from the saddle without
showing the slightest anger. "Take it easy. You're a bum loser. When
I seen the black settle down to his work," he explained to Dan with
another grin, "I knowed he'd nail him in the end an' I staked twenty
on you agin my friend here! That was sure a slick change of hosses you
made."
There were other losers. Money chinked on all sides to an
accompaniment of laughter and curses. Jim Silent was examining the
roan with a scowl, while Bill Kilduff and Hal Purvis approached Satan
to look over his points. Purvis reached out towards the bridle when a
murderous snarl at his feet made him jump back with a shout. He stood
with his gun poised, facing Black Bart.
"Who's got any money to bet this damn wolf lives more'n five seconds?"
he said savagely.
"I have," said Dan.
"Who in hell are you? What d'you mean by trailing this man-killer
around?"
He turned to Dan with his gun still poised.
"Bart ain't a killer," said Dan, and the gentleness of his voice was
oil on troubled waters, "but he gets peeved when a stranger comes nigh
to the hoss."
"All right this time," said Purvis, slowly restoring his gun to its
holster, "but if this wolf of yours looks cross-eyed at me agin he'll
hit the long trail that ain't got any end, savvy?"
"Sure," said Dan, and his soft brown eyes smiled placatingly.
Purvis kept his right hand close to the butt of his gun and his eyes
glinted as if he expected an answer somewhat stronger than words.
At this mild acquiesence he turned away, sneering. Silent, having
discovered that he could find no fault with Dan's treatment of his
horse, now approached with an ominously thin-lipped smile. Lee Haines
read his face and came to his side with a whisper: "Better cut out the
rough stuff, Jim. This chap hasn't hurt anything but your cash, and
he's already taken water from Purvis. I guess there's no call for you
to make any play."
"Shut your face, Haines," responded Silent, in the same tone. "He's
made a fool of me by showin' up my hoss, an' by God I'm goin' to give
him a man-handlin' he'll never forgit."
He whirled on Morgan.
"How about it, bar-keep, is this the dead shot you was spillin' so
many words about?"
Dan, as if he could not understand the broad insult, merely smiled at
him with marvellous good nature.
"Keep away from him, stranger," warned Morgan. "Jest because he rode
your hoss you ain't got a cause to hunt trouble with him. He's been
taught not to fight."
Silent, still looking Dan over with insolent eyes, replied: "He sure
sticks to his daddy's lessons. Nice an' quiet an' house broke, ain't
he? In my part of the country they dress this kind of a man in gal's
clothes so's nobody'll ever get sore at him an' spoil his pretty face.
Better go home to your ma. This ain't any place for you. They's men
aroun' here."
There was another one of those grimly expectant hushes and then a
general guffaw; Dan showed no inclination to take offence. He merely
stared at brawny Jim Silent with a sort of childlike wonder.
"All right," he said meekly, "if I ain't wanted around here I figger
there ain't any cause why I should stay. You don't figger to be peeved
at me, do you?"
The laughter changed to a veritable yell of delight. Even Silent
smiled with careless contempt.
"No, kid," he answered, "if I was peeved at you, you'd learn it
without askin' questions."
He turned slowly away.
"Maybe I got jaundice, boys," he said to the crowd, "but it seems to
me I see something kind of yellow around here!"
The delightful subtlety of this remark roused another side-shaking
burst of merriment. Dan shook his head as if the mystery were beyond
his comprehension, and looked to Morgan for an explanation. The
saloon-keeper approached him, struggling with a grin.
"It's all right, Dan," he said. "Don't let 'em rile you."
"You ain't got any cause to fear that," said Silent, "because it can't
be done."