“Kate!” he said, gauging his voice carefully so that it could not possibly travel to the ranch house, which all the while he carefully scanned.
For answer the front door of the shanty squeaked.
“Back!” he called. “Go back!”
The door squeaked again.
“They’re asleep in the ranch house,” she said. “Aren’t we safe?”
“S—sh!” he warned. “Talk low! They aren’t all asleep. There’s one in the ranch house who’ll never take his eyes off me till morning.”
“What can we do?”
“Go out the back way. You won’t be seen if you’re careful. Haines has his eyes on me, not you. Go for the stable. Saddle your horses. Then lead them out and take the path on the other side of the house. Don’t mount them until you’re far below the house. Go slow all the way. Sounds travel far up this canyon.”
“Aren’t you coming with us?”
“No.”
“But when they find us gone?”
“Think of Dan—not me!”
“God be merciful to you!”
In a moment the back door of the shanty creaked. They must be opening it by inches. When it was wide they would run for the stable. He wished now that he had warned Kate to walk, for a slow moving object catches the eye more seldom than one which travels fast. If Lee Haines was watching at that moment his attention must be held to Buck for one all important minute. He stood up, rolled a cigarette swiftly, and lighted it. The spurt and flare of the match would hold even the most suspicious eye for a short time, and in those few seconds Kate and her father might pass out of view behind the stable.
He sat down again. A muffled sneeze came from the ranch house and Buck felt his blood run cold. The forgotten cigarette between his fingers burned to a dull red and then went out. In the stable a horse stamped. He leaned back, locked his hands idly behind his head, and commenced to whistle. Now there was a snort, as of a horse when it leaves the shelter of a barn and takes the first breath of open air.
All these sounds were faint, but to Buck, straining his ears in an agony of suspense, each one came like the blast of a trumpet. Next there was a click like that of iron striking against rock. Evidently they were leading the horses around on the far side of the house. With a trembling hand he relighted his cigarette and waited, waited, waited. Then he saw them pass below the house! They were dimly stalking figures in the night, but to Buck it seemed as though they walked in the blaze of ten thousand searchlights. He held his breath in expectancy of that mocking laugh from the house—that sharp command to halt—that crack of the revolver.
Yet nothing happened. Now he caught the click of the horses’ iron shoes against the rocks farther and farther down the valley. Still no sound from the ranch house. They were safe!
It was then that the great temptation seized on Buck.
It would be simple enough for him to break away. He could walk to the stable, saddle his horse, and tear past the ranch house as fast as his pony could gallop. By the time the outlaws were ready for the pursuit, he would be a mile or more away, and in the hills such a handicap was enough. One thing held him. It was frail and subtle like the invisible net of the enchanter—that word he had passed to Jim Silent, to see that nothing came up the valley and to appear in the ranch house at sunrise.
In the midst of his struggle, strangely enough, he began to whistle the music he had learned from Dan Barry, the song of The Untamed, those who hunt for ever, and are for ever hunted. When his whistling died away he touched his hand to his lips where Kate had kissed him, and then smiled. The sun pushed up over the eastern hills.
When he entered the ranch house the big room was a scene of much arm stretching and yawning as the outlaws dressed. Lee Haines was already dressed. Buck smiled ironically.
“I say, Lee,” he said, “you look sort of used up this mornin’, eh?”
The long rider scowled.
“I’d make a guess you’ve not had much sleep, Haines,” went on Buck. “Your eyes is sort of hollow.”
“Not as hollow as your damned lying heart!”
“Drop that!” commanded Silent. “You hold a grudge like a woman, Lee! How was the watch, Buck? Are you all in?”
“Nothin’ come up the valley, an’ here I am at sunrise,” said Buck. “I reckon that speaks for itself.”
“It sure does,” said Silent, “but the gal and her father are kind of slow this mornin’. The old man generally has a fire goin’ before dawn is fairly come. There ain’t no sign of smoke now.”
“Maybe he’s sleepin’ late after the excitement of yesterday,” said Bill Kilduff. “You must of thrown some sensation into the family, Buck.”
The eyes of Haines had not moved from the face of Buck.
“I think I’ll go over and see what’s keeping them so late in bed,” he said, and left the house.
“He takes it pretty hard,” said Jordan, his scarred face twisted with Satanic mirth, “but don’t go rubbin’ it into him, Buck, or you’ll be havin’ a man-sized fight on your hands. I’d jest about as soon mix with the chief as cross Haines. When he starts the undertaker does the finishin’!”
“Thanks for remindin’ me,” said Buck drily. Through the window he saw Haines throw open the door of the shanty.
The outcry which Buck expected did not follow. For a long moment the long rider stood there without moving. Then he turned and walked slowly back to the house, his head bent, his forehead gathered in a puzzled frown.
“What’s the matter, Lee?” called Silent as his lieutenant entered the room again. “You look sort of sick. Didn’t she have a bright mornin’ smile for you?”
Haines raised his head slowly. The frown was not yet gone.
“They aren’t there,” he announced.
His eyes shifted to Buck. Everyone followed his example, Silent cursing softly.
“As a joker, Lee,” said Buck coldly, “you’re some Little Eva. I s’pose they jest nacherally evaporated durin’ the night, maybe?”
“Haines,” said Silent sharply, “are you serious?”
The latter nodded.
“Then by God, Buck, you’ll have to say a lot in a few words. Lee, you suspected him all the time, but I was a fool!”
Daniels felt the colour leaving his face, but help came from the quarter from which he least expected it.
“Jim, don’t draw!” cried Haines.
The eyes of the chief glittered like the hawk’s who sees the field mouse scurrying over the ground far below.
“He ain’t your meat, Lee,” he said. “It’s me he’s double crossed.”
“Chief,” said Haines, “last night while he watched the shanty, I watched him!”
“Well?”
“I saw him keep his post in front of the cabin all night without moving. And he was wide awake all the time.”
“Then how in hell—”
“The back door of the cabin!” said Kilduff suddenly.
“By God, that’s it! They sneaked out there and then went down on the other side of the house.”
“If I had let them go,” interposed Buck, “do you suppose I’d be here?”
The keen glance of Silent moved from Buck to Haines, and then back again. He turned his back on