The doctor unnecessarily slashed the horses with his whip. But he was careful not to increase the pace.

Jim went on after a moment's pause, while he watched the hawk-like mould of his companion's profile.

"Peter's a good friend," he said. "Last night, if I'd said the word, he'd have fought for me. He'd have fought for me till the boys shot him down in his tracks. And he'd have thought no more of giving his life for me than--than Smallbones would think of taking mine. And some of the gold he's looking for would--have come his way."

The doctor looked round sharply. He began to wonder if Jim were getting light-headed.

"You're talkin' foolish," he said.

But the other shook his head.

"You see, I don't guess you know Peter as I do--now. I didn't quite know him--before. I do now. Life's so mighty full of--well, the things we don't want, that it's well to get out and look for something that don't seem to be lying around. And every time you find one of those things, it seems to set the things life wants you to have farther and farther away. That's what Peter's doing." He smiled ever so gently.

"He's looking for what he calls gold. Guess I'll find some of Peter's gold--in yonder bluff."

The doctor's eyes were staring out at their destination. He had no answer. He caught something of Jim's meaning, but his hard mind had not the proper power of a.s.similation.

"If that bluff was a thousand miles off, Doc, I still shouldn't have anything in my fool-head to tell. Seems to me a bit chilly. Couldn't we drive faster?"

"No. By Gad, we couldn't!"

The driver's words came with a sudden outburst of pa.s.sion. If half the silent curses he was hurling at the head of the venomous Smallbones at that moment took effect, the man would surely have then and there been blotted out of the history of Barnriff.

Jim had no more to say, and the other had no power to frame the thoughts which filled his mind. And so a silence fell upon them as they approached the woods.

Through the perfect fretwork of the upper branches the eastern light shone cold and pure; in the lower depths the gray gloom had not yet lifted. The dark aisles between the trees offered a gloomy welcome.

They suggested just such an ending as was intended for their journey.

The leaders had pa.s.sed round the southern limits, and were no longer in view. The doctor headed his horses upon their course. Something of the eagle light had gone out of his eyes. He stared just ahead of his horses, but no farther. As they came to the bend, where Barnriff would be shut off from their view, Jim turned in his seat, and who can tell what was in his mind at the moment? He knew it was his last glimpse of the place, which for him had held so many disappointments, so many heartaches. Yet--he wanted to see it.

But his eyes never reached the village. They encountered two objects upon the prairie, and fastened themselves upon them, startled, even horrified. A large man was running, bearing in his arms a strange burden, and behind him, trailing wearily, but still running, was a woman. He could have cried out at the sight, and his cry would have been one of horror. Instead, he turned to his companion.

"No reasonable request is denied a--dying man, Doc," he said, eagerly.

"Drive faster."

Without a word the other touched his horses with the whip, and they broke from their amble into a brisk trot.

In half a minute they drew up in the shadow of a great overhanging tree.

Jim was promptly a.s.sisted to the ground by the waiting men, for he was bound hand and foot. Now his bonds were removed, and immediately he stepped forward to where Smallbones had just succeeded in throwing his rope into position overhead, and was testing it with his own weight.

As the prisoner came up he turned, and a malicious sparkle shone in his eyes as he confronted the calm face.

"It'll bear my weight?" Jim inquired, coldly. "It wouldn't be pleasant to go through it twice." He glanced up at the tree as though interested.

"It's built fer ropin' 'outlaws,'" Smallbones grinned. "I sure don't guess a low-down skunk of a murderer'll----"

But the man never finished his sentence. Doc Crombie had him by the throat in a clutch that threatened to add another and more welcome crime to the records.

"Another word from your lousy tongue an' I'll strangle you!" roared the doctor, venting at last all the pent-up wrath gathered on the journey out.

But Jim was impatient. He remembered those two toiling figures behind.

"Let up, Doc," he said sharply. "His words don't hurt. Let's finish things."

The doctor's hand fell from the man's throat and he drew back.

"Fix the ropes," he said shortly.

In silence four of the men advanced, while the evil eyes of Smallbones savagely glowered at the doctor. In a few moments Jim's arms were pinioned, and his ankles bound fast. Then the rope was loosely thrown about his neck. And after that a man advanced with a large silk handkerchief, already folded, and with which to blindfold him.

But suddenly the doctor bethought him of something.

"Wait!" he cried. Then he addressed himself directly to the condemned man. "Jim Thorpe, you sure got friends present. You sure got friends ready to hear anything you got to tell. You're goin' out o' this world right now, actin' a lie if not speakin' one. Ther' are folks among us dead sure, or I wouldn't say it. Mebbe you ain't thought that if this thing is done, an' what I suspicion is true, you're makin' murderers of us all--an' in pertickler Smallbones. Say, you got your chance.

Speak."

The men round the tree stood hushed in awe, waiting. There was not a sound to break the stillness except the soft rustle of the trees in the morning breeze.

"I have told you all, I am innocent," Jim said firmly. Then he shrugged. "Guess you must take your own chances what you are when this is done. We don't need to wait any longer."

For answer the doctor signed to the man with the handkerchief. The prisoner's face was pale, but his eyes were steady and his lips firm.

There was no weakness in him, and the wondering crowd were troubled.

Most of them had seen hangings in their time, but they had never seen a man face death in cold blood quite like this.

Suddenly, while the bandage was being secured, one of the younger men in the front rank threw up his arm as though to ward off a blow. He covered his eyes, and fled precipitately behind his comrades, where he could no longer see. Several others turned their backs deliberately.

The whole thing was too terrible. It was hideous.

Doc Crombie stood with folded arms within two yards of the prisoner.

Behind the prisoner Smallbones and the rest of his men stood, their hands grasping the plaited rope. They were only awaiting the silent signal from the doctor.

When the handkerchief had been adjusted the man fell in beside his comrades on the rope. The awful moment had arrived when the signal must be given. The tension amongst the onlookers was breathless, and the agony of the man about to die must have been appalling, in spite of his apparent calm.

The moments pa.s.sed. It almost seemed as though the hardened nerve of the doctor needed support. At last he stiffened. He raised his head, and looked squarely at the pinioned man.

"Jim Thorpe," he cried, in a harsh, unyielding voice. "You are condemned to die by the ballot of your fellow citizens, for the murder of Will----"

"Ho! Ho, Doc! Hold on! For G.o.d's sake, hold your hand, Doc!"

A great hoa.r.s.e voice split the deathly stillness with a roar that suddenly electrified the a.s.sembly. Everybody swung round in the direction whence it came. That is, everybody but the doctor. He had recognized the voice, and he had caught Smallbones' gleaming eye. With a spring he was at Jim's side, and threw the noose clear of his neck.

He had no idea of the reason of the interruption, but he had caught Smallbones' eye.

He turned about in time to see Peter Blunt break through the crowd bearing in his arms the crippled brother of Eve Henderson. Following close upon his heels was Eve herself, gasping and almost fainting with her exertion.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI

THE Pa.s.sING OF ELIA