The nickering of the stallion and the flood of memory had brought him to a clear understanding of the situation; a sudden glare of light from the abruptly uncovered window before which he and the girl stood provoked an alertness which was abnormally keen, that played with the subjective rather than the more c.u.mbersome objective. He stooped with the quickness of a drop and scuttled into the shadows, cautious, the first law of man athrob.

The man who had brushed away the blanket that had screened the window burst into irritated talk. VB recognized him as Matson. Back in the shadows of the room he saw the Mexican standing.

A table was close to the window, so close that in crowding behind it Matson had torn down the blanket that had done service as a curtain. A lamp burned on the table, its wick so high that smoke streamed upward through the cracked chimney. And close beside the lamp, eyes glittering, cruel cunning in every line, the flush of anger smearing it, was the face of Rhues!

VB, crouching there, saw then that Matson's finger was leveled at Rhues.

"It ain't good money!"

That was the declaration Matson had made as the blanket slipped down and disclosed the scene. He repeated it, and his voice rose to a snarl.

Delilah started to rise but VB jerked her back with a vehemence that shot a new fear through the girl, that made her breathe quickly and loudly. For the first time he turned and looked at the girl, not to discover who this might be that had brought him to the nest of those who sought his life, but to threaten.

"You stay here," he whispered sharply. "If you make a sound, I'll--you'll never forget it!"

His face was close to hers and he wagged his head to emphasize the warning.

Where she had expected to find a friend the Mexican girl realized that she had encountered a foe. Where she had, from the fullness of her heart and for a dollar and the admiration of Julio, sought to help, she knew now that she had wronged. His intensity filled her with this knowledge and sent her shrinking against the wall of the cabin, a hand half raised to her cheek, trembling, wanting to whimper for mercy.

"Keep still!" he warned again, and, stretching one hand toward her as though to do sentry duty, ready to throttle any sound, to stay any flight, to bolster his commands, he crept closer to the window.

"Why ain't it good?" Rhues was asking in a voice that carried no great conviction, as though he merely stalled for time.

VB saw him stretch a bill close to the lamp and Matson lean low beside him. The light fell on the piece of currency, not six feet from VB's fever-bright eyes. He saw that they were inspecting a fifty-dollar bill issued by the Confederate States of America! And Rhues said grudgingly: "Well, if that ain't good, they's only six hunderd 'n all!"

Up came the buried memories, struggling through all the welded events in the furnace consciousness of the man who pressed his face so close to the window's crinkly gla.s.s. His eyes sought aimlessly for some object that might suggest a solution for the slipping thought he tried to grasp. They found it--found it in a rumpled, coiled contrivance of leather that lay beside the lamp. It was a money belt. The money belt that Kelly, the horse buyer, had worn!

Six hundred dollars! And a Confederate States fifty-dollar bill! They were quarreling over the spoils of that chill murder!

VB swayed unsteadily as he felt a rage swell in him, a rage that nullified caution. He turned his eyes back to the Mexican girl cringing just out of his reach and moved the extended hand up and down slowly to keep his warning fresh upon her. He wanted time to think, just a moment to determine what action would be most advisable. His heart raced unevenly and he thought the hot edges of his wound were blistering.

"That's two hundred apiece, then," Rhues said, and straightened.

VB saw that the hand which had dropped the worthless piece of paper held a roll of yellow-backed bills.

"Two hundred we all git," he growled. "You git it, Julio gits it, I git it--an' I'm th' party what done th' work!"

VB stooped and grasped Delilah roughly by the arm. He held a finger to his lips as he dragged the shaking girl out to where she could see.

"Watch!" he commanded, close in her ear. "Watch Rhues--and the others!"

Rhues counted slowly, wetting his thumb with hasty movements and dropping bills from the roll to the table top.

"Both you"--he looked up to indicate Matson and Julio--"gits 's much 's me, an' I done th' work!"

"An' if we're snagged, we stand as good a chanct o' gettin' away as you," Matson remarked, and laughed shortly.

Rhues looked up again and narrowed the red lids over his eyes.

"You said it!" he snarled. "That's why it's good to keep yer mouths shut! That's why you got to dig out--with me.

"If I'm snagged--remember, they's plenty o' stories I could tell about you two--an' I will, too, if I'm snagged 'cause o' you!"

He worked his shoulders in awkward gesture.

"An' that's why we want our share," Matson growled back. "An' want it quick! We watched th' road; you done th' killin'. We thought it was jus' to settle things with that ----, but it wasn't. It was profitable."

He ended with another short laugh.

"Well, I said I'd git him, didn't I? An' I did, didn't I? An' if th'

first time went wrong it was--profitable, wasn't it?"

"Yes, but queek, queeker!" the Mexican broke in. "They might come--now!"

"Well, quit snivelin'!" snapped Rhues. "It didn't go as we planned. I had to shoot 'fore I wanted to. But I got him, didn't I?"

Julio reached for the pile of bills Rhues shoved toward him; Matson took his; Rhues pocketed the rest. And outside, VB relaxed his hold on the girl's wrist, raising both hands upward and out, fingers stiff and claw-like.

Kelly, good-natured, careless, likable, trusting Kelly, had gone out to pay toll to this man's viciousness; had gone because he, VB, would not submit to Rhues's bullying! And now they laughed, and called it a profitable mistake!

All his civilized, law-abiding nature rose in its might. All that spirit which demands an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, which makes for statutes and courts and the driving of nations into fixed paths, lifted VB above any caution that the circ.u.mstances could have engendered. His whole nature cried out for the justice he had been trained to respect; his single remaining impulse was to make this man Rhues suffer for the act of which there was such ample evidence.

He struggled to find a way toward retribution, for in a moment it might be too late. He had no thought beyond the instant, no idea but to possess himself of something more, to make the case stronger for society. He had seen, he had heard, he had the girl beside him, but he wanted more evidence.

Matson moved away from the window and as he did so the sash sagged inward. It was a hinged casing!

His hands numb from excitement, VB forced his arms against it, shoving stoutly. The force of his effort precipitated his head and shoulders into the room! He had a flash of the three men as they whirled and poised, with oaths, but his mind did not linger on them. His fingers clutched the money belt, drew it to him, and as Rhues dropped a hand to his hip VB staggered backward out of the window, stuffing the money belt inside his shirt, in against the hot wound, and stared about him.

For an instant, silence, as Rhues stood, gun drawn, shoulders forward, gazing at the empty window. Then upon them came a shrill, quavering, anxious cry--the call of the Captain.

CHAPTER XXIII

Life, the Trophy

To VB, at the sound of the stallion's neighing, came the realization of his position--weaponless in the midst of men who, now of all times, would shoot to kill! His righteous abhorrence of the murder Rhues had done and in which the others had been conspirators did not lessen. He did not falter in his determination for vengeance; but his thirst for it did not detract one whit from his realization of the situation's difficulties.

Seconds were precious. Just a lone instant he poised, looking quickly about, and to his ears came again the cry of the horse, plaintive, worried, appealing.

"Captain!" he cried, and started to run. "Captain! You didn't fail!

They _brought_ you!"

His voice lifted to a shout as he rounded the corner of the house, and the Captain answered.

With the horse located, VB stumbled across the short intervening s.p.a.ce, one hand to his breast doing the double duty of attempting to still the searing of that wound and hold fast to the money belt. He flung himself at the door of the low little stable, jerked the fastening apart, and, backing in, saw men run from the house, heard them curse sharply, and saw them turn and look, each with his shooting hand raised.