Than Lilly, Antenat and Moravy, the three Vigilantes detailed by Maverick
Joe to remain in Cut-throat for certain purposes, a trio of braver men
never crossed the rushing river of the Great West.
In many places great indentations, and even caves existed, and it was
into one of the latter that the three Vigilantes went after hearing their
leader’s command.
This cave has been visited before, especially by Antenat, the
half-Creole, for on springing from his horse, he ran to a niche in the
wall, and took therefrom a little package which, in the light of the fire
kindled by his companions, he unwrapped with a curious smile on his dark
face.
“_Parbleu!_ it is here yet,” he exclaimed, as the contents of the packet
were exposed to view. “See, messieurs, what a pretty ring; where is the
_petite_ mademoiselle on whose finger it used to shine?”
Lilly and Moravy looked at the bauble, beyond all doubt a child’s ring,
and then turned their questioning eyes upon the exhibitor.
“Where did you get it, Antenat?” they both asked, in one breath.
“One day I was sitting on my horse, under the ‘Devil’s Wing,’ when all
at once something came down, from the sky, mebbe, and hit me plump on
the hand. _Sacre bleu!_ how I started and looked up. I put my hand on my
pistol but there was nothing over me but the sharp, black rock and the
sky, blue as my mistress’s eyes. Then I looked at the ground, and there
lay something that glittered. Down from the saddle went Louis Antenat,
and he held in his hand this, _ma chere_ comrades,” and the old fellow
held the little ring between thumb and forefinger, before his companion’s
eyes.
“A curious find,” said Moravy. “And you hid it here?”
“Yes.”
“Well, it’s a pretty thing. Look here, Lilly; there’s a little diamond
set on it, and here are letters on the inner surface.”
“Letters?” echoed Antenat, starting.
But Moravy bent forward into the stronger firelight, and tried to make
out the word engraved on the tiny ring.
“As near as I can make out,” he said, as he looked, “the word, ‘Jennie.’
But this is the queerest place for a baby ring with a child’s name on it.
Just think of angels in Cut-throat, boys.”
Lilly burst into a loud guffaw at his comrade’s attempt at wit; but the
lines of thought deepened on Antenat’s face, and taking the ring, he
looked at it steadily a long time.
“_Parbleu!_ it shall not hide here any more,” he said, suddenly. “When I
found it I said I would put it away where nobody would find it, for there
are fellows who would sell it for a drink of whisky. Antenat will carry
it with him, hereafter. Ah! _ma petite_ Jennie, some day old Louis may
have the pleasure of restoring your ring.”
The two men did not hear the last sentence, for Lilly had leaped up, and
darted toward the mouth of the cave.
His figure was unseen for a moment, and then it sprung back into the
firelight, and beckoned the others to his side.
“There! a ghost with a rope around his neck!” said Lilly. “If we had
finished Tom Terror that day I could call the speerit by name, but Tom
got off alive, and report says that he’s hyar now, and in the flesh.
When I got hyar a minute ago I heerd something come staggering down the
canyon, and all at once that thing came in sight, and stopped whar it’s
been standing ever since.”
The canyon at that point was not very wide; a gentle toss would have
taken a pebble easily across, and the moonlight fell uninterrupted upon
the uncanny object upon which the starting eyes of the Vigilantes were
fixed.
“That’s no ghost,” retorted Moravy. “Speerits ar’ some kind o’ air thet
kin git over ground without noise, but that fellow rattles the pebbles;
he staggers, falls ag’in’ the wall, an’ then--bless my heart! his hands
ar’ tied! that’s why he can’t pick up the rope. Whar in the name of
death! ar’ Louis?”
The next instant the Creole answered the excited Moravy, for something
long, dark and serpent-like shot through the moonshine, and fell over the
head of the object staggering along the wall.
The two men at the month of the cave darted into the canyon with
exclamations of astonishment, as the Creole jerked the “ghost” from his
feet, and brought him heavily to the ground.
The little old Creole would not let his companions assist his endeavours;
therefore, they could do nothing but sit by and watch.
Meanwhile the Creole worked on until at last he looked at his companions
in triumph.
Wild and excited, the revenger had sprung erect, and he stood before the
three Vigilantes.
“Who do you call yourself?”
“My name is Darrell.”
“The same as Rosebud Dan?”
“The same.”
Did Antenat’s little eyes flash as he glanced over his shoulder at his
companions?
“I’m sorry, monsieur, but you’re the pard they want in these parts,” he
said, coolly, to Dan. “It arn’t often thet a fellow gits hanged twice in
one night. Comrades, the lasso at Napoleon’s saddle--quick!”
Antenat’s hand moved to his revolver as he uttered the command, but the
next moment with a startling cry that resembled the hoarse intonation of
the tiger, the hanged Sport darted forward.
“Another rope for me to-night? Never, by the fires of Tophet! So you,
too, would hang the Wolf of the Rosebud? There, Louis Antenat, take that
with my compliments.”
The pistol touched the Creole’s forehead as the last word fell madly from
Darrell’s lips, and the next moment a dull but horrible report filled the
cavern.
Lilly and Moravy started back with cries of horror, and the lifeless body
of poor Antenat, released by the Sport’s left hand, fell quivering to the
ground.
“Now lift a finger, my friends, and I’ll repeat the compliment,”
thundered Deadly Dan, as turning quickly but coolly upon the Vigilantes,
he covered them with the weapon sprinkled with the Creole’s blood. “One
hanging is my share. I’ve had that, but it was not enjoyed. I do not
intend to furnish any more necks for such entertainments. Keep clear of
me. Stand back! I’m still the Wolf of the Rosebud, and there’s death in
my right hand!”
He moved slowly back as he spoke, until, reaching the shadow of a rock at
the mouth of the cave, he sprung away with a victorious cry and was gone.