Part 49 (1/2)
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!”