DOUBLE-CROSSED.
“What’s the matter with you fellows, anyhow?” asked De Bray.
“Ye ain’t fit ter live,” said Lonesome Pete.
“That’s right,” cut in Hotchkiss. “Ye didn’t hev the nerve ter call
Lawless’ bluff, but had ter rough things up fer the little woman back
hyer.”
“You don’t understand the layout, my friends,” said De Bray, his eyes
twinkling and the shadow of a smile hovering about the corners of his
mouth.
His manner was one of cool unconcern. Billings, Pete, and Hotchkiss
could not understand him, but this did not in the least tend to
placate them. There had been a mysterious note in the tenderfoot’s
manner ever since the stage had left Montegordo. Billings, Pete, and
Hotchkiss, however, were in no mood to figure out a conundrum. Taking
De Bray as they found him, he was a pretty low-down proposition.
Pete, having brought out the rope, was engaged in making a slip-noose
in the end of it. Hotchkiss was pushing back his sleeves in a
businesslike way. Billings had firm hold of De Bray’s arm.
At this point, the woman leaned forward and dropped a trembling hand
on Billings’ shoulder.
“You are not going to hurt him?” she pleaded, in her soft, gentle
voice.
“It’ll be about as painless, mum, as sich things usually aire,” said
Hotchkiss.
“I am the cause of this,” she went on, “and I could not bear to think
that a human life has been sacrificed on my account.”
“He sure looks human,” said Lonesome Pete, trying the slip-knot with
his hands, “although he didn’t act it, not noways.”
“Anyhow,” spoke up De Bray, “you might put this off until we get to
Sun Dance--out of consideration for the lady’s feelings, if not for
mine.”
“The lady won’t see a thing,” said Billings. “The tree I referred to
is out o’ sight around them rocks.”
“I can tell you something,” pursued De Bray, “that will open your
eyes, but I don’t think it’s safe to let the secret out before we
reach Sun Dance.”
“Thet’s a play ter gain time,” averred Hotchkiss, “an’ it won’t go
down with _us_.”
“Your temper is hot just now,” said De Bray, “and all of you will
feel different when you give it a chance to cool.”
“I hopes,” growled Pete, “that when I see a real lady imposed on I’ll
allers have the sand ter take her part, whether I’m in temper or out
o’ it.”
Hotchkiss jumped from the wagon.
“Throw him out ter me, Chick,” said he.
“Please, please do not let this go any further,” said the woman,
stretching out her hands earnestly. “He did only what any one would
have done to save his life. What are a ring, and a locket, and two
hundred dollars compared with a human life? What you intend doing
would be a terrible thing--so terrible that I can hardly believe
you’re in earnest. For _my_ sake, spare him!”
Hotchkiss drew his sleeve over his forehead.
“Pussonly,” said he, “if the whelp ain’t hung, he ort ter be tarred
an’ feathered.”
“I ain’t never goin’ ter let it be said,” ground out Chick Billings,
who noted that Hotchkiss was wavering, “that anythin’ like what jest
happened took place on a stage o’ mine an’ me never doin’ nothin’ ter
play even.”
“I’d hate ter hev it said in Sun Dance,” said Pete, “that us fellers
allowed sich a whelp as this Easterner ter pollute the camp with his
presence--knowin’ the things about him that we do.”
“The hangin’,” finished Billings, “will purceed. Hotchkiss, ye kin
help er not, jest as ye please.”
“I’ll help, o’ course,” said Hotchkiss; “but it’s my natur’ allers
ter oblige er lady, when it’s possible. Sorry, mum,” he finished,
turning to the woman, “but ye see how it is.”
Reginald de Bray threw back his head and laughed. The mirth seemed
untimely.
“Quit it!” snorted Chick Billings. “Ye ort ter be sayin’ yer prayers,
’stead o’ laffin’.”
“You fellows force my hand,” answered De Bray. “Take your hands off
me for a minute, Billings, so I can show you something.”
“An’ when I let go my hands,” jeered Billings, “ye’ll make er break.”
“Hold a gun on me, one of you,” suggested De Bray.
Hotchkiss drew a revolver. As he leveled it, Billings released De
Bray. The latter, bending down, pulled up his trousers and drew
something from the top of his shoe. The object proved to be a roll of
bills. De Bray opened out the roll on his knee, and the eyes of those
about him began to widen.
The bill on top of the pile was of the $1,000 variety. As De Bray
thumbed over the rest of the bills, it was seen that they were all of
the same denomination.
“Waal, I’ll be jiggered!” muttered Billings.
“Wouldn’t thet rattle yer spurs?” gasped Pete.
“Thar’s money enough ter start a Fust National Bank,” commented the
astounded Hotchkiss.
“I was told in Montegordo,” explained De Bray, “that it was a little
bit reckless for a man to carry twenty thousand dollars in cash over
the trail between there and Sun Dance. But I’ve got to get to the
camp and see Buffalo Bill, and, inasmuch as I’ve usually been able to
take care of myself, I thought I’d risk it.
“I don’t think any of us expected to meet highwaymen. When Lonesome
Pete mentioned the subject, though, I thought it a good chance to
take time by the forelock, as the saying is, and make myself secure
against a possible surprise. So I asked the lady”--here he turned
with one of his rosy smiles toward the woman in the back seat--“to
hide my hundred in her bonnet, along with her own.
“I don’t think there’s the least doubt,” he went on, “but that the
little trick saved my twenty thousand for me. As soon as we get to
Sun Dance I shall reimburse the lady for the money and jewelry she
lost. All I can say at the present time is that----”
De Bray stopped suddenly. The attention of every one in the
mountain-wagon was focused upon De Bray and his pile of bills.
Abruptly a movement of swift feet was heard, followed by a frightened
jump on the part of the leaders of the team.
On the instant all eyes were lifted. A masked man, with a rifle slung
from his shoulders by a strap, was holding the leaders by the bits.
Beside the masked man stood Captain Lawless, he having reappeared on
that part of the trail as if by magic. Six masked men, with rifles at
their shoulders, had sprung up around the stage as though out of the
very ground.
“Sorry to bother you again,” said Lawless, “but I changed my plans
somewhat when I saw that gold locket, and I and my men have scrambled
across the arm of the cañon. If you hadn’t stopped here so long,
we shouldn’t have been able to overtake you. Lucky thing we did,
as twenty thousand is something of a haul. Right here is where you
fellows are going to get the double-cross.”
This second surprise was even more telling than the first had been.
Billings and the rest had not dreamed of encountering Lawless and his
gang a second time. It is popularly supposed that lightning never
strikes twice in the same place, yet here was proof to the contrary.
What was there about the woman’s locket to bring the road-agent and
his rascally followers across the arm of the cañon? Whatever it was,
the change in Lawless’ plan had worked out badly for De Bray. De Bray
had his $20,000 on his knee, and no subterfuge could now avail to
save the funds.
Billings, Pete, and Hotchkiss realized that they themselves were to
blame. If they had not halted so long on the road for the purpose
of palavering with De Bray, and if they had not forced him to an
explanation, his money might have been saved.
Hotchkiss had his revolver in his hand. The hand had dropped at his
side, and he was pondering the advisability of resistance. There were
eight of the road-agents--eight against three, and if resistance was
offered, the fight which followed would surely imperil the woman.
Hotchkiss, brave though he was, hesitated to do anything that would
endanger one of the gentler sex.
Lawless came closer to De Bray.
“For a tenderfoot,” said Lawless, “you’re a fine specimen of a fox;
but here’s where I call you. Fork over!”
He held out his hand.
“Bound to take what I’ve got, are you?” queried De Bray.
His tone was noticeably cool and his manner steady.
“The pickings were slim before,” flung back Lawless. “This will be a
raise worth while, and----”
At that instant something happened. Dropping the money into the
bottom of the stage, like lightning De Bray flung himself across the
forward wheel, gripped Lawless by the throat, and bore him to the
ground.
For an Easterner, inexperienced in Western ways, Reginald de Bray
showed an abnormal amount of pluck and rough-and-ready incentive.
Pete, Billings, and Hotchkiss were not slow in following up his
attack.
Hotchkiss, already on the ground, sprang to the side of the wagon and
pushed the woman into the bottom of the box.
“Down!” he cried, and no sooner had he placed the woman in
comparative safety than the rifles of the road-agents began to talk.
Bullets slapped into the side of the wagon, sang through the air, and
in other ways made their presence disagreeably apparent.
Lonesome Pete fired his six-shooter, and one of the masked men
dropped his rifle and fell face-downward; before he could fire again,
a piece of lead caught him in the shoulder and flung him down
against the dashboard, dazed, helpless, and out of the fight.
Billings, plying his whip frantically, tried to drive the leaders
over the man at their heads. The robber, although lifted from his
feet with every jump of the frightened horses, managed to keep his
hold.
One of the robbers rushed to the spot where De Bray was struggling
with the leader of the gang, and fetched the Easterner a blow with
the stock of his gun. De Bray pitched forward to the ground, and lay
silent.
Lawless jumped to his feet. A bullet from Hotchkiss’ revolver whipped
past his ear and struck the man at the horses’ heads. The man let go
his hold with a wild yell, and the four-horse team would have sped
onward but for Lawless.
The leader of the gang in no uncertain way demonstrated his prowess.
A bullet from one of his weapons tore its way through Hotchkiss’ arm,
and sent the miner reeling backward against the mountain-wagon.
The wagon was already leaping over the ground, and Hotchkiss slid
from the revolving rear wheel and sprawled full length across the
trail.
Quick as thought, Lawless made a flying jump for the driver’s seat,
and, as luck would have it, gained a position at Billings’ side.
A blow from the butt of his revolver sent Billings down on the
crouching form of Lonesome Pete, and Lawless caught the lines as they
were flickering over the dashboard.
Throwing himself back on the bits with all his strength, the leader
of the robbers brought the frantic horses to a halt.
The short, sharp battle was practically over. Numbers had won. De
Bray was still lying unconscious on the ground; Hotchkiss was lifting
himself on his uninjured arm, and staring at his revolver, which lay
at a distance from him; Pete and Billings were huddled against the
dashboard, and four masked men had their rifles leveled to prevent
any further act of resistance.
“Take the horses’ heads, one of you!” yelled Lawless. “No more
shooting; we’ve got this little game right where we want it.
The woman has fainted. Two of you take her and carry her to the
horses--one of you is enough to keep track of this bunch.”
While two of the scoundrels, swinging their rifles over their
shoulders, advanced and lifted the woman from the place where
Hotchkiss had put her, another went to the heads of the plunging
leaders.
The minute the man had the leaders well in hand, Lawless bent down,
collected the scattered bills, and stuffed them into his pocket.
The woman, limp and unconscious, was carried out of sight.
Lawless, grabbing Billings by the collar and jerking him upright,
stared venomously into his eyes.
“See what’s happened!” growled Lawless, “and you have only yourselves
to blame. Here’s something else for you to tell Buffalo Bill--and
it’s something more to make him take my trail and try for a clean-up.
That’s what I want. I’m ready for the king of scouts, and we’ll see
how he comes out. Meanwhile, here’s something for you to deliver to
Gentleman Jim, in Sun Dance--a locket, a ring, and a note. He’ll
understand. Tell him that Lawless never forgets his debts.”
By then, the two men who had carried away the woman reappeared. They
picked up the fallen desperado and likewise bore him out of sight
among the boulders.
Leaping down from the wagon, Lawless walked quickly to the man who
had been wounded by Hotchkiss. The fellow was sitting up at the
trailside. Lawless helped him to his feet and supported him toward
the rocks.
“That will do,” he called to the man with the gun and to the man who
was holding the horses. “Now for a quick getaway.”
By then, Chick Billings was able to take the lines. When the horses
were released, he held them where they were, and watched the robbers
vanish.
Following this, Chick Billings swore, easing his pent-up feelings
after the manner of stage-drivers generally.
“Pete!” he called.
“Hyer,” answered Pete.
“Bad hurt?”
“Nicked in the shoulder.”
“Waal, brace up, pard. We got ter git out o’ this. The quicker we git
ter Sun Dance an’ set a possé on the track o’ these hyer scoundrels,
the more show o’ success the possé’ll hev. I say, Hotchkiss!”
“Coming,” replied the miner, getting to his feet and picking up his
revolver. “Thet was brisk, while it lasted,” he said grimly, walking
toward De Bray.
“If thar’d been one or two more o’ us,” mourned Pete, “we might hev
had a diff’rent story ter tell in Sun Dance. How’s De Bray?”
“I’ll do,” De Bray himself answered, climbing slowly to his feet and
picking up his hat. “I--I never thought the butt of a musket was so
hard,” and he put both hands to the back of his head.
“Yer money is gone, De Bray,” announced Billings.
“So I supposed,” was the calm rejoinder.
“Look hyer,” cried Lonesome Pete, wincing with the pain of his wound,
but unable to repress his curiosity, “ye’re no tenderfoot. That dodge
ye worked, an’ the way ye went fer Lawless, proves thet.”
“Maybe I’m not a tenderfoot,” answered De Bray; “but that’s all you
lads need to know. How did Lawless and his gang manage to overhaul us
here?”
“They come across the arm o’ the gulch,” explained Billings. “The
stage-trail winds around the arm, an’ they made a short cut.”
“But why? My brain isn’t just as clear as it might be, and I can’t
figure it out.”
“None o’ the rest o’ us kin figger it out, either,” said Hotchkiss.
“Somethin’ about thet locket sent Lawless arter us ag’in--an’ arter
the woman.”
“The woman?” queried De Bray, startled.
“Yep; the villains took her away.”
“It’s a big mystery,” put in Billings. “Lawless left a note, the
ring, an’ the locket fer me ter take ter Gentleman Jim.”
“Who’s Gentleman Jim?” asked De Bray.
“He’s erbout the only squar’ gambler I knows anythin’ erbout. He
hangs out in Sun Dance, an’ is a friend o’ Buffler Bill’s.”
“They came back to get the woman,” mused De Bray, “and they got here
just in time to see me showing you fellows all that money.”
“We’re some ter blame, I reckon,” said Hotchkiss. “If we hadn’t
stopped hyer as long as we did, roughin’ things up with you, this
wouldn’t hev happened. It give Lawless an’ his outfit a chance ter
come up with us ag’in.”
“I can’t blame you,” answered De Bray; “it certainly seemed pretty
low-down, the way I acted. The thing looked wrong, but needed an
explanation to set it right. The quicker we get to Sun Dance, the
better.”
“Right ye aire,” seconded Pete. “Climb in, you two, an’ we’ll vamose.”
De Bray and Hotchkiss got into the wagon and took the second seat.
“I don’t reckon it ’u’d do us any good ter try ter see whar thet gang
went with ther woman, hey?” said Pete.
“Thar ain’t any o’ us in shape ter foller the whelps,” answered
Hotchkiss. “We’ll git ter Sun Dance an’ lay the hull play before
Buffler Bill. He’ll know what ter do if any one will.”
“You _bet_!” emphasized Pete.
“Besides,” struck in Billings, as he set the horses to a gallop, “one
o’ Buffler Bill’s pards is somehow mixed up in this.”
“Meanin’ Little Cayuse?” asked Pete.
“Who else?” returned Billings.
“Blame’ queer whar thet kid went ter, all of a sudden. He must hev
got out o’ the wagon before Lawless an’ his gang come down on us,
thet fust time. Anyways, it seems sure Lawless didn’t see him.”
“Maybe he was scared,” hazarded De Bray.
“Him? Scared?” Pete threw back his head and laughed huskily. “Why,
De Bray, thet leetle Piute is skeer-proof. More’n likely he got an
idee in his heathen mind, an’ laid out ter kerry it through. He’ll be
heerd of, if I’m any prophet.”
“Well,” muttered De Bray, “I’m out twenty thousand, but I’d say
good-by to the money with pleasure if we could only have that little
lady back in this wagon with us.”
“I’d have stopped a bullet with my other arm for that,” put in
Hotchkiss.
“Too bloomin’ bad!” growled Pete, trying to tie up his shoulder with
a handkerchief. “Whyever did he want ter take the woman away with
him, this hyer whelp of a Lawless? He wasn’t figgerin’ on thet the
fust time.”
“Thet locket had everythin’ ter do with it,” said Billings.
“That letter you’re to take to Gentleman Jim may give us a clue to
the scoundrel’s actions,” suggested De Bray.
“Thet’s what I’m hopin’,” remarked Hotchkiss.
“You say this Gentleman Jim is a square gambler, and a friend of the
scout’s?”
“Yes. He got mixed up with ther scout in the matter o’ the Forty
Thieves Mine, an’ it was Lawless as done the mixin’. At fust, it
seems, Lawless trusted Gentleman Jim; an’ then, bekase Gentleman Jim
did ther squar’ thing, Lawless got a grudge at him. Runnin’ off ther
woman has somethin’ ter do with thet grudge, an’ I’ll bet money on
it.”
“We’ll know more,” spoke up De Bray, through his clenched teeth,
“before we’re many hours older.”
And in this De Bray was right.