The Seventh Man Part 21

"I got to warn them."

"You'll be killed!"

He tore away her hands.

"I got to warn them--but who'll I help? Them three against Dan? He saved me--twice! But--I got. I got to go."

"If you fight for him first he'll only turn on you afterwards. Vic, stay here."

"What good's my life? What good's it if I'm a yaller dog ag'in? I'm goin' out--and be a man!"

Chapter XXII. The Fifth Man

The moment Vic Gregg stood in the open air, with the last appeal of Betty ringing still at his ear, he felt a profound conviction that he was about to die and he stood a moment breathing deeply, taking the faint alkali scent of the dust and looking up to the stars. It was that moment when night blends with day and there is no sign of light in the sky except that the stars burn more and more bright as the darkness thickens, and Vic Gregg watched the stars draw down more closely and believed that he was seeing this for the last time. Alder seemed inexpressibly dear to him as he stood there through a little s.p.a.ce, and the vaguely discernible outlines of the shacks along the street were like the faces of friends. In that house behind him was Betty Neal, waiting, praying for him, and indeed, had it not been for shame, he would have weakened now and turned back. For he hardly knew which way to turn. He wanted to save Ronicky and the other two from the attack of Barry, yet he would not lay a trap for Dan. To Barry he owed a vast debt; his debt to the three was that which any human being owes to another. He had to save them from the wolf which ran through the night in the body of a man.

That thought sent him at a run for Captain Lorrimer's saloon. It was lighted brilliantly by the gasoline lamp within, but a short distance away from it he heard no sound and his imagination drew a terrible picture of the big, empty room, with three dead men lying in the center of it where the destroyer had reached them one by one. That was what took the blood from his face and made him a white mask of tragedy when he stepped into the door of the saloon. It was quiet, but half a dozen men sat at the tables in the corner, and among them were Ronicky and the other two. Sliver Waldron was in the very act of pulling back his chair, and perhaps all three had just come in. Perhaps Barry had come here to look for his quarry and found them not yet arrived; perhaps he was now hunting in other places through the town; perhaps he was even now crouched in the shadow near at hand and ready to attack.

It made the hand of Vic Gregg contract with a cruel pressure when it fell on the shoulder of Sliver Waldron.

"Now, what in h.e.l.l!" grunted that hardened warrior.

He had no love for Vic Gregg since that day when the posse rode through the hills after him; neither had Ronicky or Gus Reeve, who rose from their chairs as if at a signal. "Come with me, gents," said Vic. "An'

come quick!"

They asked no questions and did not stay to argue the point for he had that in his face which meant action. He led them outside, and behind the horse shed of the saloon.

"We're alone?" he asked.

"Nothin' in sight."

"Look sharp."

They peered about them through the night, and a wan moon only helped to make the darkness visible.

"Gents, we may be alone now, but we ain't goin' to be alone long. Get your bosses and ride like h.e.l.l. Barry is in town!"

"Vic, you're drunk."

"I tell you, he's been seen--"

"Then by G.o.d," growled Sliver Waldron, "lead me to him. I need to have a little talk with that gent."

"Lead you to him?" echoed Vic Gregg. "Sliver, are you hungerin' to push daisies?"

"Look here, Bud," answered the older man, and he laid a hand on the shoulder of Vic. "You been with this Barry, gent, and you've lived in his house. D'you mean to say you're one of the lot that talks about him like he was a ghost bullets couldn't harm? I tell you, son, they's been so much chatter about him that folks forget he's human. I'm goin' to remind 'em of that little fact."

Vic Gregg groaned. Even while he talked he was glancing over his shoulder as if he feared the shadows under the moon. His voice was half gasp, half whisper.

"Sliver--Ronicky--don't ask me how I know--jest believe me when I say Dan Barry'll never die by the hand of any man. I tell you--he can see in the dark!"

A soft oath from Gus Reeve; a twitching of Ronicky's head told that this last had taken effect. Sliver Waldron suddenly altered his manner.

"All right, Vic. Trot back into town, or come with us. We're going to move out."

"The wisest thing you ever done, Sliver."

"I'm feelin' the same way," breathed Gus Reeve.

"S'long," whispered Vic Gregg, and faded into the night, running.

The others, without a word among themselves, gathered their horses and struck down the valley out of Alder. The padding and swish of the sand about the feet of their mounts; the very creaking of the saddle leather seemed to alarm them, and they were continually turning and looking back. That is, Gus Reeve and Ronicky Joe manifested these signs of trouble, but Sliver Waldron, riding in the center of the trio, never moved his head. They were hardly well out of the town when a swift rush of hoof beats swept up from behind, and a horseman darted into the pale mist of the valley bending low over his pommel to cut the wind of his riding.

"Who is it?"

"Vic Gregg!" muttered Gus Reeve. "Stir, along, Sliver. Vic ain't lingerin' any!"

But Sliver Waldron drew rein, and let his horse go on at a walk.

"Hearin' you talk, Ronicky," he said, "you'd think you was really scared of Dan Barry."

Ronicky Joe stiffened in his saddle and peered through the uncertain light to make out if Sliver were jesting. But the latter seemed perfectly grave.

"A gent would almost think," went on Sliver, "that we three was runnin'

away from Barry, instead of goin' out to set a trap for him."

There was something nearly akin to a grunt from Gus Reeve, but Ronicky merely continued to stare at the leader.

"'S a matter of fact," said Sliver, "when Vic was talkin' I sort of felt the chills go up my back. How about you, Ronicky?"

"I'll tell a man," sighed Ronicky. "While Vic was talkin' I seen that devil comin' on his hoss like he done when he broke out of the cabin that night. I'll tell you straight, Sliver. I had my gun drilled on him.

I couldn't of missed; but after I fired he kept straight on. It was like puncturin' a shadow!"

"Sure," nodded Sliver. "Shootin' by night ain't ever a sure thing."

Ronicky wiped his heated brow.

"So I sent Vic away before he had a chance to get real nervous. But when he comes back--well, boys, it'll be kind of amusin' to watch Vic's face when he saunters into town tomorrow and sees Dan Barry--maybe dead, maybe in the irons. Eh?"

Only a deep silence answered him, but in the interest which his words excited the terror seemed to have left Ronicky and Gus. They rode close, their heads toward Sliver alone.

"There goes Vic," mused Sliver. "There he goes--go on. Mac, you old fool!--scared to death, ridin' for his life. And why? Because he believes some ghost stories he's heard about Dan Barry!"

"Ghost stories?" echoed Reeve. "Some of 'em ain't fairy tales, Sliver."

"Jest name one that ain't!"

"Well, the way he trailed Jim Silent. We've all heard of Silent, and Barry--was too good for him."