“Hush! One day's riding would kill you—riding as I ride.”
“I'm strong—very strong, and the love of you, Pierre, will give me more strength. But quickly, for if they knew you, every man in that place would come armed and ready to kill. I know, for I've heard them talk. Tell me, are one-half of all the terrible things they say—”
“They are true, I guess.”
“I won't think of them. Whatever you've done, it was not you, but some devil that forced you on. Pierre, I love you more than ever. Will you go East with me, and home? We will lose ourselves in New York. The millions of the crowd will hide us.”
“Mary, there are some men from whom even the night can't hide me. If they were blind their hate would give them eyes to find me.”
“Pierre, you are not turning away from me—Pierre—There's some ghost of a chance for us. Will you take that chance and come with me?”
He thought of many things, but what he answered was: “I will.” “Then let's go at once. The railroad—”
“Not that way. No one in that house suspects me now. We'll go back and put on our masks again, and—hush. What's there?”
“Nothing.”
“There is—a man's step.”
And she, seeing the look on his face, covered her eyes in horror. When she looked up a great form was looming through the dark, and then the voice of Wilbur came, hard and cold.
“I've looked everywhere for you. Miss Brown, they are anxious about you in the schoolhouse. Will you go back?”
“No—I—”
But Pierre commanded: “Go back.”
So she turned, and he ordered again: “I think our friend has something to say to me. You can find your way easily. Tomorrow—”
“Tomorrow, Pierre?”
“Yes.”
“I shall be waiting.”
With what a voice she said it! And then she was gone.
He turned quietly to big Dick Wilbur, on whose contorted face the moonlight fell.
“Say it, Dick, and have it out in cursing me, if that'll help.”
The big man stood with his hands gripped behind, fighting for self-control.
“Pierre, I've cared for you more than I've cared for any other man. I've thought of you like a kid brother. Now tell me that you haven't done this thing, and I'll believe you rather than my senses. Tell me you haven't stolen the girl I love away from me; tell me—”
“I love her, Dick.”
“Damn you! And she?”
“She'll forget me; God knows I hope she'll forget me.” “I brought two guns with me. Here they are.”
He held out the weapons.
“Take your choice.”
“Does it have to be this way?”
“If you'd rather have me shoot you down in cold blood?”
“I suppose this is as good a way as any.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Give me a gun.”
“Here. This is ten paces. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
“Pierre. God forgive you for what you've done. She liked me, I know. If it weren't for you, I would have won her and a chance for real life again—but now—damn you!”
“I'll count to ten, slowly and evenly. When I reach ten we fire?”
“Yes.”
“I'll trust you not to beat the count, Dick.”
“And I you. Start.”
He counted quietly, evenly: “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine—ten!”
The gun jerked up in the hand of Wilbur, but he stayed the movement with his finger pressing still upon the trigger. The hand of Pierre had not moved.
He cried: “By God, Pierre, what do you mean?”
There was no answer. He strode across the intervening space, dropped his gun and caught the other by the shoulders. Out of Pierre's nerveless fingers the revolver slipped to the ground.
“In the name of God, Pierre, what has happened to you?”
“Dick, why didn't you fire?”
“Fire? Murder you?”
“You shoot straight—I know—it would have been over quickly.”
“What is it, boy? You look dead—there's no color in your face, no light in your eyes, even your voice is dead. I know it isn't fear. What is it?”
“You're wrong. It's fear.”
“Fear and Red Pierre. The two don't mate.”
“Fear of living, Dick.”
“So that's it? God help you. Pierre, forgive me. I should have known that you had met her before, but I was mad, and didn't know what I was doing, couldn't think.”
“It's over and forgotten. I have to go back and get Jack. Will you ride home with us?”
“Jack? She's not in the hall. She left shortly after you went, and she means some deviltry. There's a jealous fiend in that girl. I watched her eyes when they followed you and Mary from the hall.”
“Then we'll ride back alone.”
“Not I. Carry the word to Jim that I'm through with the game. I'm going to wash some of the grime off my conscience and try to make myself fit to speak to this girl again.”
“It's the cross,” said Pierre.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. The bad luck has come to poor old Jim at last, because he saved me out of the snow. Patterson has gone, and now you, and perhaps Jack—well, this is good-bye, Dick?”
“Yes.”
Their hands met.
“You forgive me, Dick?”
“With all my heart, old fellow.”
“I'll try to wish you luck. Stay close to her. Perhaps you'll win her.”
“I'll do what one man can.”
“But if you succeed, ride out of the mountain-desert with her—never let me hear of it.”
“I don't understand. Will you tell me what's between you, Pierre? You've some sort of claim on her. What is it?” “I've said good-bye. Only one thing more. Never mention my name to her.”
So he turned and walked out into the moonlight and Wilbur stared after him until he disappeared beyond the shoulder of a hill.
CHAPTER 23
It was early morning before Pierre reached the refuge of Boone's gang, but there was still a light through the window of the large room, and he entered to find Boone, Mansie, and Gandil grouped about the fire, all ominously silent, all ominously wakeful. They looked up to him and big Jim nodded his gray head. Otherwise there was no greeting.
From a shadowy corner Jacqueline rose and went toward the door. He crossed quickly and barred the way.
“What is it, Jack?”
“Get out of the way.”
“Not till you tell me what's wrong.”
A veritable devil of fury came blazing in her eyes, and her hand twitched nervously back to her hip where the dark holster hung. She said in a voice that shook with anger: “Don't try your bluff on me. I ain't no shorthorn, Pierre le Rouge.”