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Updated: June 6, 2025
It was early morning before Pierre reached the refuge of Boone's gang, but there was still a light through the window of the large room, and he entered to find Boone, Mansie, and Gandil grouped about the fire, all ominously silent, all ominously wakeful. They looked up to him and big Jim nodded his gray head. Otherwise there was no greeting.
The glance of Pierre still lingered on Gandil as he turned and followed Wilbur up the complaining stairs to the one habitable room in the second story of the house. It was set aside for the use of Jacqueline. At the door Wilbur said: "Shrug your shoulders back; you look as if you were going to jump at something. And wipe the wolf look off your face. After all, Jack's a girl, not a gunfighter."
"I'll take my chance with any man but McGurk " "He has no cross to bring him luck." "Aye, and he has no friends for that luck to ruin. Look at Gandil, Jack, and then speak to me of the cross." "Pierre, that first time you met you almost beat him to the draw. Oh, if I were a man, I'd Pierre, it was to get McGurk that you rode out to the range.
For all this he seemed the least formidable of all the riders. To see him pass none could have suspected that this was Black Morgan Gandil. Last of the crew came two men almost as large as Jim Boone himself, on strong steady-striding horses.
He fell in turn into a solemn brooding, and many a picture out of the past came up beside him and stood near till he could almost feel its presence. He was roused by the creaking of the floor beneath the ponderous step of Jim Boone, who flung the door open and shouted: "Oh, Morgan." In the silence he turned and stared back at Pierre. "What's up with Gandil?" "God knows, not I."
He made a pace forward and every man shrank a little away from him. "Because the cold in your blood is part hate and more fear, Black Gandil." The eyes of Gandil glared back for an instant. With all his soul he yearned for the courage to pull his gun, but his arm was numb; he could not move it, and his eyes wavered and fell.
"I'll take my chance with any man but McGurk " "He has no cross to bring him luck." "Aye, and he has no friends for that luck to ruin. Look at Gandil, Jack, and then speak to me of the cross." "Pierre, that first time you met you almost beat him to the draw. Oh, if I were a man, I'd Pierre, it was to get McGurk that you rode out to the range.
And Black Gandil, who heard all things, said without looking up: "A man that saves a shipwrecked fellow, he gets bad luck for thanks." Pierre turned a considerable eye on him, and Gandil scowled back. "You've been croaking for six years, Morgan, about the bad luck that would come to Jim from saving me out of the snow. It's never happened, has it?"
Can you face that devil alone?" And the old man groaned: "But it's his luck that's ruined me. It's his damned luck which has broken up the finest fellowship that ever mocked at law on the ranges. Oh, Jack, the heart in me's broken. I wish to God that I lay where Gandil lies. What's the use of fighting any longer? No man can stand up against McGurk!"
I ain't no shorthorn, Pierre le Rouge." He stepped aside, frowning. "To-morrow I'll argue the point with you, Jack." She turned at the door and snapped back: "You? You ain't fast enough on the draw to argue with me!" And she was gone. He turned to face the mocking smile of Black Gandil and a rapid volley of questions. "Where's Patterson?" "No more idea than you have." "And Branch?"
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