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Already suspicious from the familiar sound of his voice, he was not surprised to recognize "Black Bart." The plainsman's fingers gripped the negro's arm, his eyes burning. So this gambler and blackleg was the gentlemanly Mr. Hawley, was he; well, what could be his little game? Why had he inveigled the girl into this lonely spot? And what did he now propose doing with her?
Sitting his horse carelessly in the plainsman's indolent fashion, he asked his question of McWilliams in front of the Lazy D bunkhouse. "Nope. When does the shindig come off?" "Friday night. Big thing. Y'u want to be there. All y'u lads." "Mebbe some of us will ride over." He of the polka dot kerchief did not appear quite satisfied.
Don't you worry about that, no matter what Ned Higgins or his cronies tell you." "I shall not discuss my affairs with outsiders," replied Bob with seriousness that brought a smile to the plainsman's face. "Good! Now, let's get down to business. Can you ride?" "No. But I can learn." "You'll have to. A man on a ranch who can't ride is about as useless as a rifle without cartridges.
"I tell you, I did not have it with me. After all, you see it is the same knife." We all gaped curiously, and there, as I am a living man, we saw that wavy kris, extended in his hand, turn back into the form of the plainsman's hunting-knife! A gasp of wonder and half terror came from the circle. Some of the men drew back. I heard an Irish private swear and saw him cross himself.
A Southern gentleman could not choose otherwise. But I've come here to beg you to let me have the chance." "You?" surprised and curious. "What greater claim on that fellow's life have you than I?" The pudgy hands of the doctor grasped the plainsman's shoulders. "It's for Christie," he explained brokenly. "She was the one he tried to run away with. You you know how I feel."
The wind isn't making all of them. Somebody is stirring them up for cover. Every whirl has an Indian in it. It's all of ten miles to Bent's. We must fight them off and let the others run for it, before they cut us off in front. Look at that!" The exclamation burst from the plainsman's lips. That was my last straight looking. The rest is ever a kaleidoscope of action thrilled through with terror.
He leaped to his feet, and the act gave him pain, but not enough to show that any bone was broken. His rifle, the plainsman's staff and defense, lay at his feet. He quickly picked it up and found that it, too, was unbroken. In fact, it was not bent in the slightest, and here his luck had stood him well. But ten feet away lay a horse, the pony that had been a good friend to him in need.
Twice he struggled to his knees, only to be crowded backward by relentless power; once he hurled Keith sideways, but the plainsman's muscles stiffened into steel, and he gradually regained his position. Neither dared release a grip in order to strike a blow: neither had sufficient breath left with which to utter a sound.
The plainsman's gun was up in an instant, in spite of the pursuers behind. Death was in his eye as he took aim, but at that instant there was a shout from the bluff, and the cry was taken up behind him "Sheriff's posse!" That cry lost him his chance of fetching Red Mask down. Before he could let the hammer of his gun fall, the horseman had wheeled about and vanished in the darkness.
It was well that I had walked the last stage of my journey. Had I been twenty-four hours later I should have missed him, and this one story of the West might never have been told. The inside of the cabin was what one would expect to find in a Plainsman's home who had no one but himself to consider. While I rested he prepared our supper.
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