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It happens that I know this scar-face Smith. We've met before. Now it's easy to see from what Collie heard that Smith is not trustin' Buster Jack. So, all underneath this Jack Belllounds's game, there's forces workin' unbeknown to him, beyond his control, an' sure to ruin him." "I see. I see. By Heaven! Wade, nothing else but ruin seems possible!... But suppose it works out his way!... What then?
His speech was abruptly cut short as the box spun from under his feet. "Kick away, old fellow!" said Scar-face Charley. "Me next! I'll be in hell with you in a minute! Every man for his principles! Hurrah for crime! Let her rip!" and without waiting for the executioner, he himself kicked the support away. Morton died without a sign. Catlin, at the last, suddenly calmed, and met his fate bravely.
I want time to settle my affairs! O God! I am too wicked to die. I cannot go bloodstained and unforgiven into the presence of the Eternal! Only let me go, and I will leave the country forever!" In the meantime Scar-face Charley and Crawford were cursing at us with an earnestness and steadiness that compelled our admiration. "Oh, shut up, Catlin!" cried Crawford at last.
Within the next few moments, in rapid succession, appeared the others with Scar-face Charley, Crawford, and Jules. The camp was already buzzing with excitement. Men poured out from the buildings into the streets like disturbed ants. Danny thrust his prisoners into the interior of the cabin, and drew us up in two lines outside.
To all appearance he was intent on the game, and nothing else; and he talked and laughed with his neighbours and the dealer as though his spirit were quite carefree. For ten minutes we watched. Then a huge figure appeared in the blackness of the doorway, slipped through, and instantly to one side, so that his back was to the wall. Scar-face Charley had arrived.
As he had rather carelessly informed the Mexican that he could deliver the cattle immediately, and realizing his mistake, for he knew that the Mexican would straightway summon his retainers and take the cattle in the name of "Liberty, Fraternity, and Equality," Scar-Face promptly shot this self-appointed savior of Mexico, mortally wounded one of his two companions, and finally persuaded the other to help drift the cattle north with a promise of a share of the profits of the enterprise.
Then we returned in the gathering dusk to our camp under the trees across the way. A man rose from a seat against a tree trunk. "Good evenin', stranger," said he. "Good evening," responded Johnny guardedly. "You are the man who stuck up Scar-face Charley in Morton's place, ain't you?" "What's that to you?" replied Johnny. "Are you a friend of his?"
"But they was somethin' else that struck me as a little funny, when I come to think of it " "Well?" Sanderson prodded, as the man halted uncertainly. "Well, it's like I told you, it was my job to burn the papers. That scar-face maid of Mis' Selim's put everything garbage and trash in a big garbage can outside the back door, and I burnt 'em up.
From the general conversation at the table that evening Pete gathered that queer visitors came to this place frequently. It was a kind of isolated, halfway house between the border and Showdown. He heard the name of "Scar-Face," "White-Eye," "Sonora Jim," "Tio Verdugo," a rare assortment of border vagabonds known by name to the cowboys of the high country. The Spider was frequently mentioned.
"Scar-face Charley is here, too," observed the spokesman, "and he wanted me to tell you that he is going to be at the Bella Union at eight this evenin', and he wants to know, will he see you? and to come heeled." "Thank you, gentlemen," replied Johnny quietly.
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