The Story of the Foss River Ranch Part 49

And she allowed her horse to stand.

Now she leaned forward in her saddle and rested her elbows upon the horn in front of her. Again she heard Baptiste speak. He seemed to be in sole command.

"We'll give yer a chance fur yer life--"

Again the fiendish laugh underlaid the words.

"It's a chance of a dog--a yellow dog," he pursued. Jacky shuddered.

"But such a chance is too good fur yer likes. Look--look, those hills.

See the three tall peaks--yes, those three, taller than the rest. One straight in front; one to the right, an' one away to the left. Guess this path divides right hyar--in three, an' each path heads for one of those peaks. Say, jest one trail crosses the keg--one. Savee? The others end sudden, and then--the keg."

The full horror of the man's meaning now became plain to the girl. She heaved a great gasp, and turned to Bill. Her lover signed a warning. She turned again to the scene before her.

"Now, see hyar, you sc.u.m," Baptiste went on. "This is yer chance. Choose yer path and foller it. Guess yer can't see it no more than yer ken see this one we're on, but you've got the lay of it. Guess you'll travel the path yer choose to--the end. If yer don't move--an' move mighty slippy--you'll be dumped headlong into the muck. Ef yer git on to the right path an' cross the keg safe, yer ken sling off wi' a whole skin.

Guess you'll fin' it a ticklish job--mebbe you'll git through. But I've a notion yer won't. Now, take yer dog's chance, an' remember, its death if yer don't, anyway."

The man ceased speaking. Jacky saw Lablache shake his great head. Then something made him look at the mountains beyond. There were the three dimly-outlined peaks. They were clear enough to guide him. Jacky, watching, saw the expression of his face change. It was as though a flicker of hope had risen within him. Then she saw him turn and eye Baptiste. He seemed to read in that cruel, dark face a vengeful purpose.

He seemed to scent a trick. Presently he turned again to the hills.

How plainly the watching girl read the varying emotions which beset him.

He was trying to face this chance calmly, but the dark expanse of the surrounding mire wrung his heart with terror. He could not choose, and yet he knew he must do so or--

Baptiste spoke again.

"Choose!"

Lablache again bent his eyes upon the hills. But his lashless lids would flicker, and his vision became impaired. He turned to the Breed with an imploring gesture. Baptiste made no movement. His relentless expression remained unchanged. The wretched man turned away to the rest of the Breeds.

A pistol was leveled at his head and he turned back to Baptiste. The only comfort he obtained was a monosyllabic command.

"Choose!"

"G.o.d, man, I can't." Lablache gasped out the words which seemed literally to be wrung from him.

"Choose!" The inexorable tone sent a shudder over the distraught man.

Even in the starlight the expression of the villain's face was hideous to behold.

Baptiste's voice again rang out on the still night air.

"Move him!"

A pistol was pushed behind his ear.

"Do y' hear?"

"Mercy--mercy!" cried the distraught man. But he made no move.

There was an instant's pause. Then the loud report of the threatening pistol rang out. It had been fired through the lobe of his ear.

"Oh, G.o.d!"

The exclamation was forced from Jacky. The torture--the horror nearly drove her wild. She lifted her reins as though to ride to the villain's aid. Then something--some cruel recollection--stayed her. She remembered her uncle and her heart hardened.

The merciless torture of the Breed was allowed to pa.s.s.

To the wretched victim it seemed that his ear-drum must be split for the shot had left him almost stone deaf. The blood trickled from the wound.

He almost leapt forward. Then he stood all of a tremble as he felt the ground shake beneath him. A cold sweat poured down his great face.

"Choose!" Baptiste followed the terror-stricken man up.

"No--no! Don't shoot! Yes, I'll go--only--don't shoot."

The abject cowardice the great man now displayed was almost pitiable.

Bill's lip curled in disdain. He had expected that this man would have shown a bold front.

He had always believed Lablache to be, at least, a man of courage. But he did not allow for the circ.u.mstances--the surroundings. Lablache on the safe ground of the prairie would have faced disaster very differently. The thought of that sucking mire was too terrible. The oily maw of that death-trap was a thing to strike horror into the bravest heart.

"Which path?" Baptiste spoke, waving his hand in the direction of the mountains.

Lablache moved cautiously forward, testing the ground with his foot as he went. Then he paused again and eyed the mountains.

"The right path," he said at last, in a guttural whisper.

"Then start." The words rang out cuttingly upon the night air.

Lablache fixed his eyes upon the distant peak of the mountain which was to be his guide. He advanced slowly. The Breeds followed, Jacky and Bill bringing up the rear. The ground seemed firm and the money-lender moved heavily forward. His breath came in gasps. He was panting, not with exertion, but with terror. He could not test the ground until his weight was upon it. An outstretched foot pressed on the gra.s.sy path told him nothing. He knew that the crust would hold until the weight of his body was upon it. With every successful step his terror increased. What would the next bring forth?

His agony of mind was awful.

He covered about ten yards in this way. The sweat poured from him. His clothes stuck to him. He paused for a second and took fresh bearings. He turned his head and looked into the muzzle of Baptiste's revolver. He shuddered and turned again to the mountains. He pressed forward. Still the ground was firm. But this gave him no hope. Suddenly a frightful horror swept over him. It was something fresh; he had not thought of it before. The fact was strange, but it was so. The path--had he taken the wrong one? He had made his selection at haphazard and he knew that there was no turning back. Baptiste had said so and he had seen his resolve written in his face. A conviction stole over him that he was on the wrong path. He knew he was. He must be. Of course it was only natural.

The center path must be the main one. He stood still. He could have cried out in his mental agony. Again he turned--and saw the pistol.

He put his foot out. The ground trembled at his touch. He drew back with a gurgling cry. He turned and tried another spot. It was firm until his weight rested upon it. Then it shook. He sought to return to the spot he had left. But now he could not be sure. His mind was uncertain.

Suddenly he gave a jump. He felt the ground solid beneath him as he alighted. His face was streaming. He pa.s.sed his hand across it in a dazed way. His terror increased a hundredfold. Now he endeavored to take his bearings afresh. He looked out at the three mountains. The right one--yes, that was it. The right one. He saw the peak, and made another step forward. The path held. Another step and his foot went through. He drew back with a cry. He tripped and fell heavily. The ground shook under him and he lay still, moaning.

Baptiste's voice roused him and urged him on.

"Git on, you skunk," he said. "Go to yer death."

Lablache sat up and looked about. He felt dazed. He knew he must go on.

Death--death which ever way he turned. G.o.d! did ever a man suffer so?

The name of John Allandale came to his mind and he gazed wildly about, fancying some one had whispered it to him in answer to his thoughts. He stood up. He took another step forward with reckless haste. He remembered the pistol behind him. The ground seemed to shake under him.

His distorted fancy was playing tricks with him. Another step. Yes, the ground was solid--no, it shook. The weight of his body came down on the spot. His foot went through. He hurled himself backwards again and clutched wildly at the ground. He shuddered and cried out. Again came Baptiste's voice.

"Git on, or--"

The distraught man struggled to his feet. He was becoming delirious with terror. He stepped forward again. The ground seemed solid and he laughed a horrid, wild laugh. Another step and another. He paused, breathing hard. Then he started to mutter,--

"On--on. Yes, on again or they'll have me. The path--this is the right one. I'll cheat 'em yet."