The Untamed

NOBODY LAUGHS

That night the power which had sent Dan into Elkhead, Jim Silent, stood his turn at watch in the narrow canyon below the old Salton place.  In the house above him sat Terry Jordan, Rhinehart, and Hal Purvis playing poker, while Bill Kilduff drew a drowsy series of airs from his mouth-organ.  His music was getting on the nerves of the other three, particularly Jordan and Rhinehart, for Purvis was winning steadily.

“Let up!” broke out Jordan at last, pounding on the table with his fist.  “Your damn tunes are gettin’ my goat.  Nobody can think while you’re hittin’ it up like that.  This ain’t no prayer meetin’, Bill.”

For answer Kilduff removed the mouth-organ to take a deep breath, blinked his small eyes, and began again in a still higher key.

“Go slow, Terry,” advised Rhinehart in a soft tone.  “Kilduff ain’t feelin’ none too well tonight.”

“What’s the matter with him?” growled the scar-faced man, none too anxious to start an open quarrel with the formidable Kilduff.

Rhinehart jerked his thumb over his shoulder.

“The gal in there.  He don’t like the game the chief has been workin’ with her.”

“Neither do I,” said Purvis, “but I’d do worse than the chief done to get Lee Haines back.”

“Get Haines back?” said Kilduff, his voice ominously deep.  “There ain’t no chance of that.  If there was I wouldn’t have no kick against the chief for what he’s done to Kate.”

“Maybe there’s some chance,” suggested Rhinehart.

“Chance, hell!” cried Kilduff.  “One man agin a whole town full?  I say all that Jim has done is to get Whistlin’ Dan plugged full of lead.”

“Well,” said Purvis, “if that’s done, ain’t the game worth while?”

The rest of the men chuckled and even Kilduff smiled.

“Old Joe Cumberland is sure takin’ it hard,” said “Calamity” Rhinehart.  “All day he’s been lightin’ into the girl.”

“The funny part,” mused Purvis, “is that the old boy really means it.  I think he’d of sawed off his right hand to keep her from goin’ to Whistlin’ Dan.”

“An’ her sittin’ white-faced an’ starin’ at nothin’ an’ tryin’ to comfort him!” rumbled Kilduff, standing up under the stress of his unwonted emotion.  “My God, she was apologizin’ for what she done, an’ tryin’ to cheer him up, an’ all the time her heart was bustin’.”

He pulled out a violently coloured bandana and wiped his forehead.

“When we all get down to hell,” he said, “they’ll be quite a little talkin’ done about this play of Jim’s—­you c’n lay to that.”

“Who’s that singin’ down the canyon?” asked Jordan.  “It sounds like—­”

He would not finish his sentence as if he feared to prove a false prophet.  They rose as one man and stared stupidly at one another.

“Haines!” broke out Rhinehart at last.

“It ain’t no ways possible!” said Kilduff.  “And yet—­by God, it is!”

They rushed for the door and made out two figures approaching, one on horseback, and the other on foot.

“Haines!” called Purvis, his shrill voice rising to a squeak with his excitement.

“Here I am!” rang back the mellow tones of the big lone rider, and in a moment he and Jim Silent entered the room.

Glad faces surrounded him.  There was infinite wringing of his hand and much pounding on the back.  Kilduff and Rhinehart pushed him back into a chair.  Jordan ran for a flask of whisky, but Haines pushed the bottle away.

“I don’t want anything on my breath,” he said, “because I have to talk to a woman.  Where’s Kate?”

The men glanced at each other uneasily.

“She’s here, all right,” said Silent hastily.  “Now tell us how you got away.”

“Afterwards,” said Haines.  “But first Kate.”

“What’s your hurry to see her?” said Kilduff.

Haines laughed exultantly.

“You’re jealous, Bill!  Why, man, she sent for me!  Sent Whistling Dan himself for me.”

“Maybe she did,” said Kilduff, “but that ain’t no partic’lar sign I’m jealous.  Tell us about the row in Elkhead.”

“That’s it,” said Jordan.  “We can’t wait, Lee.”

“Just one word explains it,” said Haines.  “Barry!”

“What did he do?” This from every throat at once.

“Broke into the jail with all Elkhead at his heels flashing their six-guns—­knocked down the two guards—­unlocked my bracelets (God knows where he got the key!)—­shoved me onto the bay—­drove away with me—­shot down two men while his wolf pulled down a third—­made my horse jump a set of bars as high as my head—­and here I am!”

There was a general loosening of bandanas.  The eyes of Jim Silent gleamed.

“And all Elkhead knows that he’s the man who took you out of jail?” he asked eagerly.

“Right.  He’s put his mark on them,” responded Haines, “but the girl, Jim!”

“By God!” said Silent.  “I’ve got him!  The whole world is agin him—­the law an’ the outlaws.  He’s done for!”

He stopped short.

“Unless you’re feelin’ uncommon grateful to him for what he done for you, Lee?”

“He told me he hated me like hell,” said Haines.  “I’m grateful to him as I’d be to a mountain lion that happened to do me a good turn.  Now for Kate!”

“Let him see her,” said Silent.  “That’s the quickest way.  Call her out, Haines.  We’ll take a little walk while you’re with her.”

The moment they were gone Haines rushed to the door and knocked loudly.  It was opened at once and Kate stood before him.  She winced at sight of him.

“It’s I, Kate!” he cried joyously.  “I’ve come back from the dead.”

She stepped from the room and closed the door behind her.

“What of Dan?  Tell me!  Was—­was he hurt?”

“Dan?” he repeated with an impatient smile.  “No, he isn’t hurt.  He pulled me through—­got me out of jail and safe into the country.  He had to drop two or three of the boys to do it.”

Her head fell back a little and in the dim light, for the first time, he saw her face with some degree of clearness, and started at its pallor.

“What’s the matter, Kate—­dear?” he said anxiously.

“What of Dan?” she asked faintly.

“I don’t know.  He’s outlawed.  He’s done for.  The whole range will be against him.  But why are you so worried about him, Kate?—­when he told me that you loved me—­”

She straightened.

“Love? You?”

His face lengthened almost ludicrously.

“But why—­Dan came for me—­he said you sent him—­he—­” he broke down, stammering, utterly confused.

“This is why I sent him!” she answered, and throwing open the door gestured to him to enter.

He followed her and saw the lean figure of old Joe Cumberland lying on a blanket close to the wall.

“That’s why!” she whispered.

“How does he come here?”

“Ask the devil in his human form!  Ask your friend, Jim Silent!”

He walked into the outer room with his head low.  He found the others already returned.  Their carefully controlled grins spoke volumes.

“Where’s Silent?” he asked heavily.

“He’s gone,” said Jordan.

Hal Purvis took Haines to one side.

“Take a brace,” he urged.

“She hates me, Hal,” said the big fellow sadly.  “For God’s sake, was there no other way of getting me out?”

“Not one!  Pull yourself together, Lee.  There ain’t no one for you to hold a spite agin.  Would you rather be back in Elkhead dangling from the end of a rope?”

“It seems to have been a sort of—­joke,” said Haines.

“Exactly.  But at that sort of a joke nobody laughs!”

“And Whistling Dan Barry?”

“He’s done for.  We’re all agin him, an’ now even the rangers will help us hunt him down.  Think it over careful, Haines.  You’re agin him because you want the girl.  I want that damned wolf of his, Black Bart.  Kilduff would rather get into the saddle of Satan than ride to heaven.  An’ Jim Silent won’t never rest till he sees Dan lyin’ on the ground with a bullet through his heart.  Here’s four of us.  Each of us want something that belongs to him, from his life to his dog.  Haines, I’m askin’ you man to man, was there any one ever born who could get away from four men like us?”