THE DEATH DICE

He was shaking as with a chill, although the perspiration stood out on chin and forehead. On hearing this Lafe glanced in his direction and asked, good-naturedly enough, what was the matter.

"Nothing," said the half-breed quickly, "only you haven't sung anything else in two days but that song, and my nerves ain't good after the time we had at the ranch."

Several times in the course of the evening, as the outfit loafed in camp after supper, the boss had occasion to pa.s.s Baptismo where he lay by the fire. Each time he either hummed or whistled a line of "The Dying Cowboy."

Johnson had spread his tarp about thirty yards removed from his men. He was a very light sleeper, accustomed to wake at least once in the course of the night to look all around the camp and make sure that everything was well. Therefore he heard Baptismo when the latter stood over him, and he knew almost what each second of hesitation meant. Had the half-breed moved, the boss would have shot him dead. After an interval, Baptismo turned away and went softly to his own bed.

In the gray of dawn, as the Anvil men were roping their mounts from the remuda and the horses were plunging wildly into the press of their brethren, Lafe called his strawboss and told him to take charge of the work for the day. To Baptismo he said, placing a hand carelessly on the half-breed's six-shooter: "I reckon you'd better come along with me, Baptismo." With that he took possession of the gun.

The man's nostrils flared quickly and he grew pallid about the lips, but he neither inquired why Lafe wanted him nor offered any objection.

Instead, he glanced in apprehension toward the group of riders now ready and waiting for the chief's orders to be off. The horses were restless to the tang in the air.

It was not until the two were a mile from camp and well on their way to the county town that Baptis...o...b..oke silence. Then it was to protest vehemently against suspicions which Johnson had not voiced. The boss made no answer, but kept a vigilant watch over his movements.

There was a crowd gathered in the town. They had a man in their midst and were dragging him at the end of a rope. As Johnson and his prisoner came down the single street, they encountered this mob. A cloud of dust enveloped the wretch they were dragging and Lafe had to check the rush before it cleared sufficiently for him to discover the victim's ident.i.ty. It was Ba.s.s. He was unconscious and was bleeding from wounds inflicted by his captors' boots and ropes. A goodly portion of the crowd was composed of the Tilsons, relatives of Sellers, and the remainder were members of the outfit for which Jerry had worked. Johnson held up his hand, palm outward, and called for order.

"What the h.e.l.l do you want?" they inquired.

"I used to be sheriff of Badger," cried Lafe, "and I'm boss now of the Anvil range. I arrested that man you've got there. This looks like a lynching. What's the idea?"

Gustfully they explained that the idea was to hang Mr. Ba.s.s to a tree adjacent. Lafe heard them in seeming patience, piecing together from the confusion of cries just how strong their pa.s.sions ran. He inquired in a civil tone as to their reasons for hanging Mordecai.

"What for?" they echoed. "Why, d.a.m.n it all, he done killed Jerry Sellers. Stabbed him in the back. Do you hear that? Stabbed him in the back!"

Lafe touched his horse with his heel and advanced on them a few steps.

"Men," said he, "Ba.s.s never killed Jerry Sellers. I done arrested him for it, but I made a mistake. The man who knifed him--"

The mob interrupted with hoots and a roar of abuse. Some of them pushed past Lafe and began to drag Ba.s.s forward once more. Others demanded to know what warrant the sheriff had for this extraordinary statement. They still called him "sheriff."

"Let's give him a trial," Lafe plead loudly; "let's try each of these men in turn. This man I've got here--"

He broke off, afraid to proceed further lest the swift rage of the mob include Baptismo also, and neither man secure justice. Once started, and two might swing as lightly as one.

"Why," bawled a man close to Johnson, "Ba.s.s, he done confessed. We done made him."

"You've made a mistake--" said Lafe, but they swept by him.

In the turmoil Baptismo edged off. Perceiving it, Johnson stuck a gun to his head and ordered him to ride in front or there would be no trial nor any chance for justice--simply a speedy arraignment before the Judgment Seat for Baptismo. Then he urged his horse into the thickest of the mob and, despite some rough handling, cut the rope by which the prisoner was being dragged.

"Men," he cried, "if you hang him, you've got to put me out of the way first. This man never killed Jerry Sellers."

Not one man in a hundred but would have been taken at his word. They hesitated, but the sheriff sat his horse coolly in the midst of it all, and the half-breed clung at his knee. It was impossible to argue against the outcry, or to obtain anything coherent from the medley of shouts.

In his agony of suspense Baptismo drew a pair of dice from the pocket of his chaps and began to click them in his hand. It was characteristic of the half-breed that he should be able to smile brilliantly upon the crowd even when most fearful. The sheriff saw the dice. His face lighted and he thrust forward again, shouting for quiet.

"You say that Ba.s.s is guilty. You say he's confessed. I say that I've got the murderer here. You want to hang Mordecai without a trial. I want a trial--a trial for both--and that's all we'll need. Let's throw dice."

It is probable that not more than four or five of the mob caught Johnson's words, but they happened to be in the forefront, and when they halted, progress was immediately arrested.

"Throw dice?" one asked eagerly. "Thunderation, what for?"

"You think this man killed Jerry Sellers. I know that Baptismo killed him. I've got Baptismo here. Let the two of 'em throw dice to see which is innocent. If Baptismo didn't kill him--why, he just couldn't throw lowest."

The leaders looked at one another. It was just such a suggestion as appealed to their heated minds. They began to argue and Lafe breathed in relief. When men start argument, action need not be feared immediately.

Gradually order was restored. Everybody waited on the man who held the rope, who was spokesman.

"I ain't so sure," said he, "that this'll prove anything. But we aim to hang this feller Ba.s.s. You aim to hang that yellow-belly. If it's agreeable to them, I reckon we cain't raise any objections. We'll have a hanging anyhow, and Jerry'll rest easier."

Baptismo still clicked the dice automatically. He wetted his lips and a.s.sured them in a dry voice that this would be satisfactory to him and eminently fair. Perhaps Baptismo was not unbiased. The dice were his, and he knew that if held in a certain position in the palm of the hand, they could be thrown to suit the needs of the player.

Their minds diverted by the possibilities of this trial by luck, the crowd fell in quickly with the suggestion. It savored of the rough justice to which they were accustomed, and if the parties princ.i.p.ally concerned were willing, why should they withhold sanction to the ordeal?

Moreover, it gave an opportunity for divine intervention.

Johnson got down from his horse and removed the rope from Mordecai's neck.

"Here, you! Wake up!" cried several, shaking him by the shoulders.

Somebody shoved a bottle to his lips and he groaned and speedily revived. Then they explained to him as clearly as several tongues talking at once could do, what the nature of the test was.

"I reckon you'll hang me anyhow, if I don't?" he asked.

They signified that such was their intent.

"Then, of course, I'll throw," said he. "It ain't fair, but it's my only chance."

Ba.s.s was still too weak to realize fully what was transpiring. The mob took no account of this, but surged forward to the spot originally selected for the hanging. It was a tree, which grew back of a flat rock.

The advantage of this site was that the two could roll the dice on the rock, and then the one who was guilty could be hanged from the tree without further inconvenience.

Lafe went ahead, piloting the two princ.i.p.als by the arms, one on each side of him. He placed them side by side in front of the rock. The half-breed picked up the dice.

"One throw, or best out of three?" he inquired.

There was a pause, while the crowd looked to Ba.s.s.

"One will do as well as a hundred, I reckon," said he.

Baptismo gave a grunt of satisfaction and shook the dice in his hand.

With a twist along his two first fingers he spun them on the rock. A double six! Twelve! A long sigh came from the crowd, and then they all began to talk. Somebody cheered. a.s.suredly this proved everything. A double six was the highest that could be thrown. Baptismo could not be beaten. True, his throw might be tied--so, too, an elephant might fly.

The odds against Ba.s.s seemed utterly hopeless. He looked at the dice dully for a minute and then turned to Lafe.

"I reckon I'm done for," said he, "but G.o.d knows I didn't do it."

"If you did," Johnson said, his eyes troubled, "you fight mighty well for a feller who'd stab in the back."

And then, before them all, Ba.s.s fell on his knees beside the rock and sank his face in his arms. None but Lafe knew that he was praying. The crowd thought that he had fainted from weakness and sought to rouse him, urging him to go on with the test. At last he rose.