Silvertip (1942) (17 page)

"My gun did the work, but you did the managing of it," said Silvertip. "How did he come to have your cloak?"

"We had been arguing a little," said Bandini, with detestable smugness, "and I gave him the cloak, at the end of the argument, as a sign that we were reconciled friends
again. That was all, in fact. A gift out of the kindness of my heart."

"Bandini," said Silvertip, "you knew that I'd look for you at that special hour that night. You were afraid. And you passed the cloak to young Pedro Monterey in the hope that I'd mistake him for you, during the night. And your idea worked out."

"You say this, Silver," answered Bandini, shrugging his shoulders. "But what you say means nothing. Every gringo is a natural liar."

"I am going to kill you, Bandini," said Silvertip gravely. "I warn you again. I'm going to kill you the moment that Monterey's work is done."

"Why do you wait?" asked Bandini. "Here is a time now. I am ready for you, Silver, night or day!"

Silvertip looked at him with curious eyes. "No," he answered, shaking his head. "You're not ready, Jose. You'll never be ready. There's a curdling of your heart when you think of having to stand up to me."

"Do you think so? Try me now, eye to eye!" exclaimed Bandini.

Silvertip smiled. "You know that I'm tied to my place here, with Monterey," he answered. "That makes you feel safe. But don't be a fool, Bandini. Sooner or later I'll have it out with you, and the sooner the better! Not here. Monterey wouldn't allow that. But one of these days, we'll meet outside the house."

"The minute you say," answered Bandini, "I'll be ready for you!"

They parted on that note.

Old Arturo Monterey moved calmly through the day. The sense of destiny about to be achieved never left him. There was in him a perfect surety that his vow would be accomplished, and Drummon delivered into his hands for the final vengeance to be taken. After that, he himself would die.

And he was ready for the end. Twenty-five years of brooding upon one purpose had perhaps unsettled his mind a little, and now the death of his son, the pinching out of the line of Monterey, left him ready to hurry to his grave after his great purpose had been accomplished.

For some time, there was no sign of danger from the Drammons. Perfect peace seemed to fill the bright days, and when scouting parties went out beyond the grazing grounds of the cattle, they rarely sighted so much as a herdsman attendant of Drummon.

No one was deceived. The danger was present, but
merely delayed, and the Drummons were preparing their blow.

To Silvertip, it was a strange time. He had become, in the house of Monterey, a great figure. The Mexicans could not accept him as a friend; the age-long prejudice was too compelling for that. But they could look up to him as a force without which they could hardly win their war. So they attended him with respectful glances whenever he appeared, and he could not stir from the house without having two or three of the half wild vaqueros appear to join in his company of their own volition. Above all, Juan Perez was his shadow.

It was the second day after the burial of Pedrillo, that Jose Bandini encountered Silver in the patio and said to him, with a glance that moved grimly up and down his body: "Senior Silver, there is one great thing true in thi
s
world-that we hate one another. A gringo, like a swine, is able to lie in the mud of his passion; but I am not. I cannot sleep at night, Senior Silver, for thinking of the moment when you and I shall be face to face. And I have made a plan."

"Go on," said Silvertip.

"It's a simple one, and a good one. If the two of us fight near the house, the one who survives will be known as the killer. That is bad. When I have killed you, I lose my chance to get a reward out of the money box of the mad old man, Monterey. If you kill me, he will detest you, because he thinks that Pedro loved me. But suppose that we ride out, to-day, and come onto the lands of the Drummons-onto the verge of them. And suppose that we fight out our fight there, Silver? Why, then the one of us who remains alive can gallop back and talk about an ambush laid by the Drummons, and how their bullets killed the man!"

Silvertip scanned the face of Bandini with care. And then, suddenly, a fury of passionate hatred subdued all the soberer part of his mind and made him throw away suspicion.

"Bandini," he said, "get your horse, I'll saddle mine. And in two hours one of us will be finished!"

Chapter
XXI

Tonio's Warnin
g
OUT in the corral, the horses swept in waves, back and forth, as Silvertip advanced on them with his rope. He singled out the one he wanted, that same long, low-built bay which had carried him so well before, and dropped the rope on it at the first gesture.

Tonio came to him as he was saddling the broncho. There was concern in the big, round face, and the wise brow of the Mexican.

"You and Bandini, senor, you are riding out together?" he said.

"Yes," said Silvertip. "What's the matter?"

"He hates you so much that he groans when he hears your name," said Tonio.

"I know it," answered Silver.

"Hatred," said Tonio, "is a food that breeds thought. A great hate will make a fool wise. And Bandini is not a fool. I shall ride out with you."

"No,"' said Silver.

"Then keep eyes in the back of your head," went on Tonio. "I saw the face of Bandini, just now, and he was laughing to himself."

That warning from Tonio should have put Silvertip on guard, but the thought that he was about to confront Bandini face to face and so accomplish a great purpose, or end all things in the effort, worked like fire in his brain, and clouded and smoked over his better judgment.

He joined Jose Bandini, therefore, and they cantered side by side down the narrow ravine below the house of Monterey.

It was easy to believe that Bandini had been laughing before. He was still in the midst of a smiling humor, and when he turned his glance toward Silvertip, repeatedly there was a gleam in his eye and a chuckle from his throat.

"You gringos," he said to Silver, "think that you are the greatest fighting men in the world; and you, Silver, think that you are in the front rank of them. Now I'm not a distinguished man among my people, particularly, but-"

"No," said Silvertip. "Only distinguished for murder, not for fighting!"

"I am not particularly distinguished," went on Bandini, smoothly overriding the insulting interruption of his companion, "and yet, Senor Silver, this day I am going to eat your heart!"

"You're sure, Bandini," said Silvertip, "because you've learned a new trick in the pulling of a gun. Or you have a better revolver, and think that it'll act of its own accord. But that is only how you feel before we fight."

"Another lie!" said Bandini.

"No, it's true," said Silver. "The fact is that when you stand up to me, Jose, you'll turn into a snowman, and melt the strength out of your knees, and your hands will be shaking, and your heart will be beating in the hollow of your throat. How many times have you really stood up to a fighting man? You have a little reputation, but how many times have you earned it?"

He was amazed when Jose Bandini answered, with perfect cheerfulness:

"Never once! I've never had to. Most of the men I've met could be outmaneuvered. And any fellow's a fool if he thinks that it's dishonorable to take an enemy from behind. What does the lion do, for that matter?"

Bandini made a sweeping gesture to the sky.

"As the lion, so is Bandini," he said.

"And you're the rat that Monterey hired to teach his son how to fight?"

"If I'm a rat," said Bandini, who seemed willing to endure any epithet, "Pedro was only a mouse. He thought me a hero. I laughed continually behind his back."

They came out of the Monterey ravine, and thence rode across the valley of the Haverhill. Suddenly Bandini pointed out a group of low hills, though that was too large a name for them-they were mere swales of land, and over them grew entanglements of shrubbery.

"There's the place for us," he said to Silvertip. "When we get into that scrub, no one will be able to see us, and we can fight it out. Not an eye will fall on us, and afterward I can ride back to Monterey and tell him that unlucky Silvertip has been killed by sneaking, murdering assassins."

Silvertip said nothing. He merely smiled, and looked straight ahead as though already he were seeing a death- and not his own!

So, at the side of Bandini, he entered the brush and found himself in the midst of a small hollow around which the shrubbery gathered in what was almost a wall.

"Now!" cried Bandini, cheerfully, and sprang down from his horse. Silver followed that example, instantly.

"What'll you have?" demanded Silvertip. "Turn back to back and take ten steps? Or fire at the drop of a handkerchief? Take your choice-one way or the other-or anything else that pleases you better?"

"The first idea is a good idea," said the Mexican. "We turn back to back, and take ten steps."

"I take ten steps, and you turn at the fifth and shoot me through the back," said Silvertip. "That would be the way of it, and you know it, you yellow rat."

Again the insult slipped away from the easy mind of the Mexican.

"Well, then," he said, "you can tell me what next way you want. We can face each other-and the first man to go for his gun gives the signal?"

"Perfect!" said Silvertip.

He stood back a little. His shoulders dropped forward; his body flexed a trifle; a smile twitched at his lips, was gone, returned again; and his eyes shown. "Are you ready, Bandini?" he demanded.

To his amazement, Bandini laughed loud and long, once more.

"Ready for what?" asked Bandini.

"Ready to stand your ground?" asked Silvertip, bewildered.

"But why should I stand my ground?" asked Bandini.
"You fool, do you think that I brought you out here to put my life in your hands?"

And still he laughed, putting his hands on the red and yellow scarf that was bound about his slender hips, and swaying rhythmically from side to side.

Silvertip stared for one more moment. Then a shudder of apprehension went with electric suddenness up his spine. He turned his head, slowly, and saw, standing head and shoulders above the line of brush behind him, the grinning faces of four men-a Drummon every one. Two held at the ready double-barreled shotguns, one of them with sawed-off barrels. The others covered him with rifles.

And still the laughter of Bandini rang and beat against his ears.

In a dream, Silver turned his body toward the line of guns. He heard one of the men say:

"Take him from behind, Bandini. Rope him, boy!"

And the thin shadow of a falling noose flicked past Silvertip's eyes; the lariat drew taut, and he was jerked to his back.

Chapter
XXII

Doomed!

THEY dragged Silvertip at the end of the lariat. Through
the brush, they pulled him, while the thorns and the tips of the sharp branches ripped his clothes, and the flesh beneath them.

Then they paused to confer with Bandini, and let Silver get to his feet.

The conference was not long.

"Here's half your money," said one of the Drummons. "You get the rest from Hank, when you come to the house."

He was counting out greenbacks into the hand of Ba'ndini.

"It's a pity to take the money," said Bandini, still chuckling. "I ought to pay you for this job. But now I have to ride back to the Monterey house like mad, and give the alarm: 'Silver is taken! The Drummons came down in force and mobbed him. I tried to help. But it was no good.' Here-put a few bullets in this!"

He pulled off his jacket and tossed it into the air. Three rifles cracked before he caught the garment again. Holding it up, he exhibited three holes that had been drilled through it by the volley.

"That is how bravely Bandini stayed and fought," sai
d
the Mexican. "Monterey will thank me for that. There is only one trouble-that flat-faced Tonio loves the gringo so much that he'll be apt to suspect that I had a hand in his taking. However, we have to take these small chances. For I have to keep the confidence of Monterey, friends, if I'm to do the important work for you."

They spoke little more. Bandini merely lingered to say:

"Keep him alive until I get there. I want to see the finish of him. To-night, if I can, I'll go out by myself, like a hero"-he still was laughing-"and go all alone into that dangerous house of the Drummons-to rescue Silver, or die for him!"

The Drummons could appreciate a joke of this nature. They greeted it with a hoarse thundering of mirth. And as Bandini rode off, they started toward their own place, in triumph.

Like a band of wild Indians they galloped, dragging Silvertip on the ground behind them; and when they slowed enough to enable him to regain his feet, they were soon off again, jerking him flat.

His body was raw, his wits half senseless, by the time they reached the river. Through it they dragged him, and brought him senseless indeed to the farther bank.