Part 22 (1/2)
He did try again. Swift as an adder, his hands flung first one and then the other weapon into action.
Click after click, no more; Jackson sat dumb, expecting death.
”They're all empty, Sam,” said Banion at last as the murderer cast down the revolvers and stood with spread hands. ”For the first time, I didn't reload. I didn't think I'd need them.”
”You can't blame me!” broke out Woodhull. ”You said it was no quarter!
Isn't a prisoner justified in trying to escape?”
”You've not escaped,” said Banion, coldly now. ”Rope him, Jackson.”
The thin, soft hide cord fell around the man's neck, tightened.
”Now,” shrilled Jackson, ”I'll give ye a dog's death!”
He sprang to the side of the black Spaniard, who by training had settled back, tightening the rope.
CHAPTER XXII
A SECRET OF TWO
Catching the intention of the maddened man, now bent only on swift revenge, Banion sprang to the head of his horse, flinging out an arm to keep Jackson out of the saddle. The horse, frightened at the stubborn struggle between the two, sprang away. Woodhull was pulled flat by the rope about his neck, nor could he loosen it now with his hands, for the horse kept steadily away. Any instant and he might be off in a mad flight, dragging the man to his death.
”Ho! p.r.o.nto--_Vien aqui_!”
Banion's command again quieted the animal. His ears forward, he came up, whickering his own query as to what really was asked of him.
Banion caught the bridle rein once more and eased the rope. Jackson by now had his shotgun and was shouting, crazed with anger. Woodhull's life chance was not worth a bawbee.
It was his enemy who saved it once again, for inscrutable but unaltered reasons of his own.
”Drop that, Jackson!” called Banion. ”Do as I tell you! This man's mine!”
Cursing himself, his friend, their captive, the horse, his gun and all animate and inanimate Nature in his blood rage, the old man, livid in wrath, stalked away at length. ”I'll kill him sometime, ef ye don't yerself!” he screamed, his beard trembling. ”Ye d.a.m.ned fool!”
”Get up, Woodhull!” commanded Banion. ”You've tried once more to kill me. Of course, I'll not take any oath or promise from you now. You don't understand such things. The blood of a gentleman isn't anywhere in your strain. But I'll give you one more chance--give myself that chance too.
There's only one thing you understand. That's fear. Yet I've seen you on a firing line, and you started with Doniphan's men. We didn't know we had a coward with us. But you are a coward.
”Now I leave you to your fear! You know what I want--more than life it is to me; but your life is all I have to offer for it. I'm going to wait till then.
”Come on, now! You'll have to walk. Jackson won't let you have his horse. My own never carried a woman but once, and he's never carried a coward at all. Jackson shall not have the rope. I'll not let him kill you.”
”What do you mean?” demanded the prisoner, not without his effrontery.
The blood came back to Banion's face, his control breaking.
”I mean for you to walk, trot, gallop, d.a.m.n you! If you don't you'll strangle here instead of somewhere else in time.”