Part 21 (1/2)
”Answer me or I'll scream!”
He chuckled grimly, not in the least alarmed.
”Little good that'll do yer now, young woman,” he said gruffly, and the driver turned his head at the sound, ”unless yer voice will carry five miles or so; where are we now, Matt?”
”Comin' down ter the Big Slough,” answered the other, expectorating over the wheel, and flickering a horse with his whip-lash. ”'Twouldn't do no harm now ter fasten back the canvas, Joe; maybe she'd feel a bit more ter home that away.”
There was a good-natured drawl to the voice which had a tendency to hearten the girl. The driver seemed human, sympathetic: perhaps he would respond to questioning. The other merely grunted, and began to unloosen the cover. She leaned forward, and addressed the rounded back of the fellow in front.
”Are you Mr. Moore?”
He wheeled partly about, surprised into acknowledgment.
”Well, I ain't heered the mister part fer some time, but my name's Matt Moore, though, how the h.e.l.l did you know it?”
”The other man called you by name--don't you remember? Besides I had heard about you before.”
”Well, I'll be d.a.m.ned. Do yer hear that, Joe? Who told yer 'bout me?”
”Mr. Westcott; he mentioned you as being one of the men who attacked him in the hotel office yesterday. He said you were one of Lacy's men.
So when I heard your name mentioned to-night I knew in whose hands I had fallen. Was the brute who ordered you about Bill Lacy?”
”I reckon it was, miss,” doubtfully. ”It don't make no difference, does it, Joe?”
”Not as I kin see,” growled the other. ”Leastwise, her knowin' thet much. 'Tain't likely to do her no good, whichever way the cat jumps.
I reckon I'll have a smoke, Matt; I'm dry as a fish.”
”Same here; 'bout an hour till daylight, I reckon, Joe; pa.s.s the terbacco after yer light up.”
The glow of the match gave her swift view of the man's face; it was strange and by no means rea.s.suring, showing hard, repulsive, the complexion as dark as an Indian's, the eyes bold and a bit bloodshot from drink. Meeting her glance, he grinned unpleasantly.
”I don't pose fer no lady's man, like Matt,” he said sneeringly, the match flaring between his fingers. ”That's what Bill sent me 'long fer, 'cause he know'd I'd 'tend ter business, an' not talk too much.”
”Your name is Joe?”
”Out yere--yes; Joe Sikes, if it pleases yer eny ter know. Yer might call me Mr. Sikes, if yer want ter be real polite.”
He pa.s.sed the tobacco-bag up to Moore, who thrust the reins under him while deliberately filling his pipe, the team trotting quietly along what seemed to be a hard road. The wagon lurched occasionally, as the wheels struck a stone, but the night was still so dark, the girl could perceive little of their surroundings in spite of the looped-up curtains. There seemed to be a high ridge of earth to their right, crowned by a fringe of low trees, but everything appeared indistinct and desolate. Outside the rumble of their own progress the silence was profound.
”And you will not tell me where we are going?” she insisted, ”or what you propose doing with me?”
The pipe-glow revealed Sikes's evil countenance; Moore resumed his reins, and there was the sharp swish of a whip lash.
”'Twouldn't mean nuthin' ter yer if I did,” said the former finally, after apparently turning the matter over slowly in his mind. ”Yer don't know nuthin' 'bout this country. 'Tain't no place a tenderfoot like you kin find yer way back frum; so, as fer as I see, thar ain't nuthin' fer yer to do but just naturally wait till we takes yer back.”
”I am to be held a prisoner--indefinitely?”
”I reckon so; not that I knows enything 'bout the programme, miss; but that's 'bout the understandin' that Matt an' I has--ain't it, Matt?”
The driver turned his head, and nodded.