the seventh man-第30部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


he　river　with　Tucker　Creek　lay　the　village　of　Bly　Falls。　There　was　no　other　spot　in　the　mountain…desert；　perhaps；　which　could　show　so　many　communities。　Also　it　was　possible　to　get　in　touch　with　the　towns　from　Rickett；　for　in　a　wild　spirit　of　enterprise　telephones　had　been　strung　to　connect　each　village　of　the　group。

His　hand　went　out　mechanically　and　pushed　in　an　open　drawer　of　his　filing　cabinet　as　if　he　were　closing　up　the　affair；　putting　away　the　details　of　the　plan。　Each　point　was　now　clear；　orderly　assembled。　It　meant　simply　chasing　Barry　along　a　course　which　covered　close　to　a　hundred　miles　and　which　lay　in　a　loosely　shaped　U。　St。　Vincent's　was　the　tip　of　the　eastern　side　of　that　U。　The　men　of　St。　Vincent's　were　to　be　called　out　to　turn　the　outlaw　out　of　his　course　towards　Tucker　Creek；　and　then；　as　he　struck　northeast　towards　Caswell　City；　they　were　to　furnish　the　posse　with　fifteen　fresh　horses；　the　best　they　could　gather　on　such　short　notice。　Swinging　north　along　that　side　of　the　U；　Wago　would　next　be　warned　to　get　its　contribution　of　fifteen　horses　ready；　and　this　fresh　relay　would　send　Barry　thundering　along　towards　Caswell　City　at　full　speed。　Then　Caswell　City　would　send　out　its　contingent　of　men　and　horses；　and　turn　the　fugitive　back　from　the　fords。　By　this　time；　unless　his　horse　were　better　winded　than　any　that　Billy　had　ever　dreamed　of；　it　would　be　staggering　at　every　stride；　and　the　fresh　horses　from　Caswell　City　would　probably　ride　him　down　before　he　had　gone　five　miles。　Even　in　case　they　failed　in　this；　there　was　the　little　town　of　Ganton；　which　would　be　ready　with　its　men　and　mounts。　Perhaps　they　could　hem　in　the　desperado　from　the　front　and　shoot　him　down　there；　as　he　skirted　along　the　river。　At　the　worst　they　would　furnish　the　fresh　horses　and　the　fifteen　hardy　riders　would　spur　at　full　speed　south　along　the　river。　If　again；　by　some　miracle；　the　black　stallion　lasted　out　this　run；　Wilsonville　lay　due　ahead；　and　that　place　would　again　give　new　horses　to　the　chase。

Last　of　all；　the　men　of　Bly　Falls　could　be　warned。　Bly　Falls　was　a　town　of　size　and　it　could　turn　out　enough　men　to　block　a　dozen　Dan　Barrys；　no　matter　how　desperate。　If　he　reached　that　point；　he　must　turn　back。　The　following　posse　would　catch　him　from　the　rear；　and　between　two　fires　he　must　die　ingloriously。　Taking　the　plan　as　a　whole　it　meant　running　Barry　close　to　a　hundred　miles　with　six　sets　of　horses。

It　all　hinged；　however；　on　the　first　step：　Could　the　men　of　St。　Vincent　turn　him　out　of　his　western　course　and　send　him　north　towards　Caswell　City？　If　they　could；　he　was　no　better　than　a　dead　man。　All　things　favored　Billy。　In　the　first　place　it　was　still　morning；　and　eight　hours　of　broad　daylight　would　keep　the　fugitive　in　view　every　inch　of　the　way。　In　the　second　place；　much　of　the　distance　was　cut　up　by　the　barb…wire　fences　of　the　farm…lands；　and　he　must　either　jump　these　or　else　stop　to　cut　them。

A　crackle　of　laughter　cut　in　on　Billy　the　clerk。　They　were　laughing　in　that　inner　office；　where　the　sheriff　lay　dead。　Blood　swept　across　his　eyes；　set　his　brain　whirling；　and　he　rushed　to　the　door。

〃You　yelpin'　coyotes！〃　shouted　Billy　the　clerk。　〃Get　out。　I　got　to　be　alone！　Get　out；　or　by　God〃

It　was　not　so　much　his　words；　or　the　fear　of　his　threats；　but　the　very　fact　that　Billy　the　clerk；　harmless；　smiling　old　Billy；　had　burst　into　noisy　wrath；　scared　them　as　if　an　earthquake　had　gripped　the　building。　They　went　out　sidling；　and　left　the　rooms　in　quiet。　Then　Billy　took　up　the　phone。

〃Pete　Glass　is　dead；〃　he　was　saying　a　moment　later　to　the　owner　of　the　general　merchandise　store　at　St。　Vincent。　〃Barry　came　in　this　morning　and　shot　him。　The　boys　have　run　him　east　to　the　Morgan　Hills。　Johnny；　listen　hard　and　shut　up。　You　got　half　an　hour　to　turn　out　every　man　in　your　town。　Ride　south　till　you　get　in　the　hills　on　a　bee…line　east　of　where　Tucker　Creek　runs　into　the　old　Asper。　D'ye　hear？　Then　keep　your　eyes　peeled　to　the　east；　and　watch　for　a　man　on　a　black　hoss　ridin'　hard；　because　Barry　is　sure　as　hell　goin'　to　double　back　out　of　the　Morgan　Hills　and　come　west　like　a　scairt　coyote。　The　posse　will　be　behind　him；　but　they　most　like　be　a　hell　of　a　ways　to　the　bad。　Johnny；　everything　hangs　on　your　turnin'　Barry　back。　And　have　fifteen　fresh　hosses；　the　best　St。　Vincent　has；　so　that　the　boys　in　the　posse　can　climb　on　'em　and　ride　hell…bent　for　Wago。　Johnny；　if　we　get　him　started　north　he's　deadand　if　you　turn　him　like　I　say　I'll　see　that　you　come　in　on　the　reward。　D'ye　hear？〃

But　there　was　only　an　inarticulate　whoop　from　the　other　end　of　the　wire。

Billy　hung　up。　A　little　later　he　was　talking　to　Wago。



Chapter　XXX。　The　Morgan　Hills

Once　out　of　Rickett；　Barry　pulled　the　stallion　back　to　an　easy　canter。　He　had　camped　during　the　latter　part　of　the　night　near　the　town　and　ridden　in　in　the　morning；　so　that　Satan　was　full　of　running。　He　rebelled　now　against　this　easy　pace；　and　tossed　his　head　with　impatience。　No　curb　restrained　him；　not　even　a　bit；　the　light　hackamore　could　not　have　held　him　for　an　instant；　but　the　voice　of　the　rider　kept　him　in　hand。　Now；　out　of　Rickett's　one　street；　came　the　thing　for　which　Barry　had　waited；　and　delayed　his　coursea　scudding　dust　cloud。　On　the　top　of　a　rise　of　ground　he　brought　Satan　to　a　halt　and　looked　back；　though　Black　Bart　ran　in　a　circle　around　him；　and　whined　anxiously。　Bart　knew　that　they　should　be　running；　there　was　no　good　in　that　ragged　dust…cloud。　Finally　he　sat　down　on　his　haunches　and　looked　his　master　in　the　face；　quivering　with　eagerness。　The　posse　came　closer；　at　the　rate　of　a　racing　horse；　and　near　at　hand　the　tufts　of　dust　which　tossed　up　above　and　behind　the　riders　dissolved；　and　Whistling　Dan　made　them　out　clearly；　and　more　clearly。

For　one　form　he　looked　above　all；　a　big　man　who　rode　somewhat　slanting；　but　Vic　Gregg　was　not　among　the　crowd；　and　for　the　rest；　Barry　had　no　wish　to　come　within　range　of　their　harm。　The　revolver　at　his　side；　the　rifle　in　the　case；　were　for　the　seventh　man　who　must　die　for　Grey　Molly。　These　who　followed　him　mattered　nothingexcept　that　he　must　not　come　within　their　reach。　He　studied　them　calmly　as　they　swept　nearer；　fifteen　chosen　men　as　he　could　tell　by　their　riding；　on　fifteen　choice　horses　as　he　could　tell　by　their　gait。　If　they　pushed　him　into　a　cornerwell；　five　men　were　odds　indeed；　yet　he　would　not　have　given　them　a　thought；　ten　men　made　it　a　grim　affair；　but　still　he　might　have　taken　a　chance；　however；　fifteen　men　made　a　battle　suicidehe　simply　must　not　let　them　corner　him。　Particularly　fifteen　such　men　as　these；　for　in　the　mountain…desert　where　all　men　are　raised　gun　in　hand；　these　were　the　quickest　and　the　surest　marksmen。　Each　one　of　them　had　struck　that　elusive　white　ball　in　motion；　and　each　had　done　it　with　a　revolver。　What　could　they　do　with　a　rifle？

That　thought　might　have　sent　him　rushing　Satan　down　the　farther　slope；　but　instead；　he　raised　his　head　a　little　more　and　began　to　whistle　softly　to　himself。　Satan　locked　an　ear　back　to　listen；　Black　Bart　rose　with　a　muffled　growl。　The　posse　rode　in　clear　view　now；　and　at　their　head　was　a　tall；　lean　man　with　the　sun　glinting　now　and　again　on　his　yellow　moustaches。　He　threw　out　his　arm　and　the　posse　scattered　towards　the　left。　Obviously　he　was　the　accepted　leader；　and　indeed　few　men　in　the　mountain…desert　would　not　willingly　have　followed　Mark　Retherton。　Another　gesture　from　Retherton；　and　at　once　a　dozen　guns　gleaned；　and　a　dozen　bullets　whizzed　perilously　close　to　Barry；　then　the　reports　came　barking　up　to　him；　he　was　just　a　little　out　of　range。

Still　he　lingered　for　a　moment　before　he　turned　Satan　reluctantly；　it　seemed；　and　started　him　down　the　far　slope；　straightaway　for　the　Morgan　Hills　as　old　Billy　had　prophesied。　It　would　be　no　exercise　canter　even　for　Satan；　for　the　horses　which　followed　were　rare　of　their　kind；　and　the　western　horse　at　the　worst　has　manifold　fine　points。　His　ancestor　is　the　Barb　or　the　Arab　which　the　Spaniards　brought　with　them　to　Mexico　and　the　descendants　of　that　finest　of　equine　bloods　made　up　the　wild　herds　which　soon　roamed　the　mountain…desert　to　the　north。　Long　famines　of　winter；　hot　deserts　in　summer；　changed　their　appearance。　Their　heads　grew　lumpier；　their　necks　more　scraggy；　their　croups　more　slanting；　their　legs　shorter；　but　their　hoofs　grew　denser；　hardier；　their　shorter　coupling　gave　them　greater　weight…carrying　possibilities；　the　stout　bones　and　the　clean　lines　of　their　legs　meant　speed；　and　above　all　they　kept　the　stout　heart　of　the　thoroughbred　and　they　gained　more　than　this；　an　indomitable；　bulldog　persistence。　The　cheapest　Western　cow…pony　may　look　like　the　cartoon　of　a　horse；　but　he　has　points　which　a　judge　will　note；　and　he　will　run　a　picture　horse　to　death　in　three　days。

Such　were　the　horses　which　took　the　trail　of　Satan　and　they　were　chosen　specimens　of　their　kind。　Up　the　slope　they　stormed　and　there　went　Satan　skimming　across　the　hollow　beneath　them。　Their　blood　was　his　blood；　their　courage　his　courage；　their　endurance　his　endurance。　The　difference　between　them　was　the　difference　between　the　factory　machine　and　the　hand　made　work　of　art。　From　his　pasterns　to　his　withers；　from　his　hoofs　to　his　croup　every　muscle　was　perfectly　designed　and　perfectly　placed　for　speed；　tireless　running；　every　bone　was　the　maximum　of　lightness　and　strength　combined。　A　feather　bloom　on　a　steady　wind；　such　was　the　gait　of　Satan。

Down　the　hollow　the　posse　thundered；　and　up　the　farther　slope；　and　still　the　black　slipped　away　from　them　until　Mark　Retherton　cursed　deeply　to　himself。

〃Don't　race　your　hosses；　boys；〃　he　shouted。　〃Keep　'em　in　hand。　That　devil　is　playing　with　us。〃

As　a　result；　they　checked　their　mounts　to　merely　a　fast　gallup；　and　Barry；　looking　back；　laughed　softly　with　understanding。　Far　different　the　laborious　pounding　of　the　posse　and　the　light　stretch　of　Satan　beneath　him。　He　leaned　a　little　until　he　could　catch　the　sound　of　the　breathing；　big；　steady　draughts　with　comfortable　intervals　between。　He　could　run　like　that　all　day；　it　seemed；　and　Whistling　Dan　ran　his　fingers　luxuriously　down　the　shining　neck。　Instantly　the　head　tossed　up；　and　a　short　whinney　whipped　back　to　him　like　a　question。　Just　before　them　the　Morgan　Hills　jutted　up；　like　stiff　mu