Part 31 (1/2)

Blinky was the most obstreperously responsive to Pan's long harangue.

Pan thought he understood the secret of the cowboy's strange elation.

After all, what did Blinky care for horses or money? He had been a homeless wandering range rider, a hard-drinking reckless fellow with few friends, and those only for the hour of the length of a job. The success of this venture, if it turned out so, meant that Blinky would do the one big act of his life. He would take the girl Louise from her surroundings, give her a name that was honest and a love that was great, and rise or fall with her. Pan had belief in human nature. In endless ways his little acts of faith had borne fruit.

The hunters stayed up later than usual, and had to be reminded twice by Pan of the strenuous morrow.

When Pan made for his own bed Mac New followed him in the darkness.

”Smith, I'd like a word with you,” said the outlaw, under his breath.

His eyes gleamed out of his dark face.

”Sure, Mac, glad to hear you,” replied Pan, not without a little shock.

”I've stuck on heah, haven't I?” queried Mac New.

”You sure have. I wouldn't ask a better worker. And if the drive is all I hope for, I'll double your money.”

”Wal, I didn't come with you on my own hook,” rejoined the other, hurriedly. ”Leastways it wasn't my idee. Hardman got wind of your hoss-trappin' scheme. Thet was after he'd fired me without my wages.

Then he sent fer me, an' he offered me gold to get a job with you an'

keep him posted if you ketched any big bunch of hosses.”

Here the outlaw clinked the gold coin in his coat pocket.

”I took the gold, an' said I'd do it,” went on Mac New deliberately.

”But I never meant to double-cross you, an' I haven't. Reckon I might have told you before. It jest didn't come, though, till tonight.”

”Thanks, Mac,” returned Pan, extending his hand to the outlaw. ”I wasn't afraid to trust you... Hardman's playing a high hand, then?”

”Reckon he is, an' thet's a hunch.”

”All right, Mac. I'm thinking you're square with me,” replied Pan.

After the outlaw left, Pan sat on his bed pondering this latest aspect of the situation. Mac New's revelation was what Pan would have expected of such a character. Bad as he was, he seemed a white man compared with this underhanded greedy Hardman. Even granting Hardman's gradual degeneration, Pan could not bring himself to believe the man would attempt any open crooked deal. Still this attempt to bribe Mac New had a dubious look. Pan did not like it. If his wild horse expedition had not reached the last day he would have sent Blinky back to Marco or have gone himself to see if Hardman's riders could be located. But it was too late. Pan would not postpone the drive, come what might.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

At last the cold night wind reminded Pan that he had not yet rolled in his blankets, which he had intended to do until Mac New's significant statement had roused somber misgiving. He went to bed, yet despite the exertions of the long day, slumber was a contrary thing that he could not woo.

He lay under the transparent roof of a makes.h.i.+ft shelter of boughs through which the stars showed white and brilliant. For ten years and more he had lain out on most nights under the open sky, with wind and rain and snow working their will on him, and the bright stars, like strange eyes, watching him. During the early years of his range life he used to watch the stars in return and wonder what was their message.

And now, since his return home, he seemed so much closer to his beloved boyhood. Tonight the stars haunted him. Over the ridge tops a few miles, they were s.h.i.+ning in the window of Lucy's tiny room, perhaps lighting her fair face. It seemed that these stars were telling him all was not well in Lucy's mind and heart. He could not shake the insidious vague haunting thought, and longed for dawn, so that in the sunlight he could dispel all morbid doubts and the shadows that came in the night.

So for hours he lay there, absorbed in mind. It was not so silent a night as usual. The horses were restless, as if some animal were prowling about. He could hear the sudden trampling of hoofs as a number of horses swiftly changed their location. The coyotes were in full chorus out in the valley. A cold wind fitfully stirred the branches, whipped across his face. One of his comrades, Blinky he thought, was snoring heavily.

Pan grew unaccountably full of dread of unknown things. His sensitive mind had magnified the menace hinted at by Mac New. It was a matter of feeling which no intelligent reasoning could dispel. Midnight came before he finally dropped into restless slumber.

At four o'clock Lying Juan called the men to get up. He had breakfast almost ready. With groans and grunts and curses the hunters rolled out, heavy with sleep, stiff of joints, vacant of mind. Blinky required two calls.

They ate in the cold gray dawn, silent and glum. A hot breakfast acted favorably upon their mental and physical make-ups, and some brisk action in catching and saddling horses brought them back to normal.

Still there was not much time for talk.