Part 20 (1/2)

”I wonder that you cannot see the fallacy of your reasoning, Ritson,”

replied Charlie. ”You ask, `What have I done?' The more appropriate question would be, `What have I _not_ done?' Have you not, according to your own confession, rebelled against your Maker and cast Him off; yet you expect Him to continue His supplies of food to you; to keep up your physical strength and powers of enjoying life, and, under the name of Luck, to furnish you with the opportunity of breaking His own commands by throwing people in your way to be robbed! Besides which, have you not yourself been guilty of gross injustice in leading poor weak Shank Leather into vicious courses--to his great, if not irreparable, damage?

I don't profess to teach theology, Ralph Ritson, my old friend, but I do think that even an average cow-boy could understand that a rebel has no claim to forgiveness--much less to favour--until he lays down his arms and gives in.”

”Had any other man but you, Charlie Brooke, said half as much as you have just said to me, I would have blown his brains out,” returned the outlaw sternly.

”I'm very glad no other man did say it, then,” returned Charlie, ”for your hands must be sufficiently stained already. But don't let anger blind you to the fact, Ralph, that you and I were once old friends; that I am your friend still, and that, what is of far greater importance, the Almighty is still your friend, and is proving His friends.h.i.+p by thwarting you.”

”You preach a strange doctrine,” said Buck Tom, laughing softly, ”but you must end your sermon here in the meantime, for we have reached the entrance to Traitor's Trap, and have not room to ride further abreast.

I will lead, and do you follow with care, for the path is none o' the safest. My asking you to follow me is a stronger proof than you may think that I believe in your friends.h.i.+p. Most strangers whom I escort up this gorge are usually requested to lead the way, and I keep my revolver handy lest they should stray from the track!”

The defile or gorge which they had reached was not inappropriately named, for, although the origin of the name was unknown, the appearance of the place was eminently suggestive of blackness and treachery. Two spurs of the mountain range formed a precipitous and rugged valley which, even in daylight, wore a forbidding aspect, and at night seemed the very portal to Erebus.

”Keep close to my horse's tail,” said Buck Tom, as they commenced the ascent. ”If you stray here, ever so little, your horse will break his neck or legs.”

Thus admonished, our hero kept a firm hand on the bridle, and closed up as much as possible on his guide. The moon was by this time clouded over, so that, with the precipitous cliffs on either side, and the great ma.s.s of the mountains further up, there was only that faint sombre appearance of things which is sometimes described as darkness visible.

The travellers proceeded slowly, for, besides the danger of straying off the path, the steepness of the ascent rendered rapid motion impossible.

After riding for about three miles thus in absolute silence, they came to a spot where the track became somewhat serpentine, and Charlie could perceive dimly that they were winding amongst great fragments of rock which were here and there over-canopied by foliage, but whether of trees or bushes he could not distinguish. At last they came to a halt in front of what appeared to be a cliff.

”Dismount here,” said Buck in a low voice, setting the example.

”Is this the end of our ride?”

”It is. Give me the bridle. I will put up your horse. Stand where you are till I return.”

The outlaw led the horses away, leaving his former friend and schoolfellow in a curious position, and a not very comfortable frame of mind. When a man is engaged in action--especially if it be exciting and slightly dangerous--he has not time to think much about his surroundings, at least about their details, but now, while standing there in the intense darkness, in the very heart--as he had reason to believe--of a robber's stronghold, young Brooke could not help questioning his wisdom in having thus thrown himself into the power of one who had obviously deteriorated and fallen very low since the time when in England they had studied and romped together. It was too late, however, to question the wisdom of his conduct. There he _was_, and so he must make the best of it. He did not indeed fear treachery in his former friend, but he could not help reflecting that the reckless and perhaps desperate men with whom that friend was now a.s.sociated might not be easy to restrain, especially if they should become acquainted with the fact that he carried a considerable sum of money about him.

He was yet pondering his position when Buck Tom returned.

”Ralph Ritson,” he said, laying his hand on the arm of the outlaw, ”you'll forgive my speaking plainly to you, I know. With regard to yourself I have not a shadow of doubt that you will act the part of an honourable host, though you follow a dishonourable calling. But I have no guarantee that those who a.s.sociate with you will respect my property.

Now, I have a considerable sum of money about me in gold and silver, which I brought here expressly for the benefit of our poor friend Shank Leather. What would you advise me to do in regard to it?”

”Intrust it to my care,” said Buck promptly.

Charlie could not see the outlaw's face very clearly, but he could easily detect the half-amused half-mocking tone in which the suggestion was made.

”My good fellow,” said Charlie, in a hearty voice, ”you evidently think I am afraid to trust you. That is a mistake. I do not indeed trust to any remnant of good that is in your poor human nature, but I have confidence in the good feeling which G.o.d is arousing in you just now. I will freely hand over the money if you can a.s.sure me that you can guard it from your comrades.”

”_This_ will make it secure from _them_,” returned Buck, with a short defiant laugh.

”Humph” exclaimed Charlie with a shrug. ”I've not much confidence in _that_ safeguard. No doubt, in certain circ.u.mstances, and on certain occasions, the revolver is a most important and useful instrument, but, taking it all round, I would not put much store by it. When you met me at the Blue Fork to-night, for instance, of what use was my revolver to me? And, for the matter of that, after you had dropped it on the road of what use was yours to you? It only wants one of your fellows to have more pluck and a quicker eye and hand than yourself to dethrone you at once.”

”Well, none of my fellows,” returned Buck Tom good-humouredly, ”happen to have the advantage of me at present, so you may trust me and count this as one o' the `certain occasions' on which a revolver is a most important instrument.”

”I dare say you are right,” responded Charlie, smiling, as he drew from the breast of his coat a small bag and handed it to his companion.

”You know exactly, of course, how much is here?” asked Buck Tom.