Читать книгу Buffalo Bill's Best Bet; Or, A Sure Thing Well Won - Ingraham Prentiss - Страница 5

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“Pards, it’s no use; thet horse o’ his are a goer from Goersville, an’ he jist kept right ahead o’ ther cap’n’s mare,” said Prairie Pete, riding back into the timber, after half an hour’s chase of the fugitive gambler.

“Lady ain’t in good trim, Pete, jist now, as yer know she’s a leetle lame; ef not, she’d hev overtook ther My-fist-toe, as that gambler calt his animile,” answered a Texan, who had also just returned and dismounted.

“Did he kill Poker Dick?” asked a third, riding up.

“No; I guesses it were better of he had, though,” responded a young giant, with blond hair falling to his waist.

All looked at the speaker, who was known as Seven-foot Harry, on account of his great height. He shrugged his shoulders knowingly and made no reply. A moment after Captain Dash rode up, his brow stern, and his gaunt-bodied racing mare limping badly.

“The pace was too fast for Lady, boys, lame as she is, so he escaped; but only for a time.”

There was something in the tone of the leader which told his men that Kent King would find a dangerous man upon his trail in Captain Dash, who seemed determined to track him to the bitter end.

In his fancy dress, half buckskin, half Mexican. Captain Dash looked exceedingly handsome, for his face was flushed with his rapid ride; but the beauty of his expressive mouth was marred by the stern look resting upon it, while in his dark-blue eyes dwelt a light that was almost cruel.

“Captain, Ben Tabor wanted me ter say that he would like ter see yer, when yer returned,” said Seven-foot Harry.

“Where is Tabor?”

“Over in ther woods yonder, nursin’ Poker Dick.”

“Ah, Poker Dick was on guard when Kent King escaped! Was he hurt?”

“Suthin’ ails him, cap’n, as I’ll show yer,” and Seven-foot Harry led the way to where a camp fire had been made some distance off from the others.

Pacing to and fro before the burning logs was Ben Tabor, a frank-faced young Texan, who now wore a troubled look that ill became him. Before the fire was a prostrate form, rolled in his blankets, and as motionless as though dead.

“Well, Tabor, is that Poker Dick, and is he hurt?” asked Captain Dash, as he walked up to the two men.

“That is Poker Dick, captain, and he’s hurt,” was the quiet response.

“I was angry with him for allowing the gambler to escape, but I’ll forgive him now, for——”

“Pard, don’t yer say nuthin’ kind ter me, or it’ll break my heart, tough as it are.”

The form arose from the blanket, and the blood-besmeared face of Poker Dick was turned full upon his chief, a slight gash in the forehead showing where Kent King had struck him with his pistol, the blow momentarily stunning him.

“Why, Dick, old fellow, I don’t want to blame you, so tell me how it was,” and Captain Dash rested his hand kindly on the shoulder of Poker Dick.

But the man drew back quickly and said, in trembling tones:

“Don’t tech me, cap’n, don’t tech me, fer I is awful wicked.”

“The blow has turned your mind——”

“No, cap’n, my mind ain’t hurt, but my heart are. Tell him, Ben, for I hesn’t ther power, an’ ther words would choke me.”

Impressed with the strange manner of Poker Dick, Captain Dash turned to Ben Tabor.

“I hate to tell, too, Dick,” said Tabor, “but I cannot help it. Captain Dash, I was the first one to get to Dick, and finding him senseless, I remained, while the other boys went in chase of King.”

“You did right, as you saw that he was wounded,” was the captain’s response.

“I only wish some one else had been in my place, for they would have to tell what I found.”

“And what was it, Ben?” asked the captain.

Before he got a reply Poker Dick spoke up:

“Cap’n, Ben hes a heart like a woman an’ don’t want to tell on his old pard Dick, so I’ll spit the story out myself, an’ I’ll feel better, for it gives me a awful bad taste in my mouth an’ pain in my heart.

“Yer see, cap’n, I was guard ter-night. Lately ther boys hes won all my dust from me, an’ I got low-spirited; an’ thet devil, Kent King, told me he’d give me a belt o’ gold an’ some dimints’ ef I’d——”

“By Heaven! You turned traitor and accepted his bribe?” cried Captain Dash, in angry tones.

“Jist so; you hes cut ther story down to ther kernel darn quick, cap’n. He give me nine hundred dollars in gold slugs, an’ two dimints as was worth five times thet much. Ben hes ’em. He found ’em on me. Knowin’ as I was dead broke afore, he sighted my leetle game, knowed I were a darn rascal, and played ther trump on me, an’ here I is.”

“And thet blow on your head, sir?” the captain asked.

“Thet were a keepsake, given me as a partin’ present from Kent King. Arter he hed gi’n me his gold an’ dimints, an’ I fotched him his saddle, he jist tapped me on ther head, ter get back his wealth, I reckon. But ther boys must hev crowded him too fast.”

“And you found this belt of gold upon him, Tabor?”

“Yes, Captain Dash; and seeing it in my hand when he came to, Poker Dick told me all.”

“You know the forfeit for one of our band to become a traitor, sir?” and Captain Dash turned sternly upon the prisoner.

“I does, cap’n; it are death,” was the firm reply.

“Dick, never would I have suspected you of such an act. Your temptation was great; but you have set free a man whose life has been one long crime, and who injured me deeply, and is now at liberty to harm those I care for. That he will do so, if in his power, I know full well. I must start on his trail before it is too late.”

“He said he were going ter Santa Fe, cap’n, for thar he would be on ekil terms with you!”

“Those are the terms I wish to meet him on; but now to the crime you have committed.”

Captain Dash looked the traitor squarely in the face.

“Yas, cap’n. I is list’nin’.”

“You have kindred living at Austin, I believe?”

“Ther old folks live thar, cap’n. My father an’ my mother, an’ I hes a leetle brother o’ seventeen.”

“This gold I will send to them, and put with it a hundred dollars of my own, and I know the boys will do the same.”

“I’ll give a hundred, cap’n,” said Ben Tabor.

“And I’ll chip in ther same,” put in Seven-foot Harry.

“All that is added will go to your parents, Dick; they shall never know that you were a traitor, but believe you were killed by Kent King, instead of wounded.”

“You intends ter kill me, then, cap’n?”

“You know the forfeit is death.”

“Yas; ther’s no gittin’ round thet, an’ I desarves it; but yer’ll send ther old folks ther gold, fer they depends on me ter keep ther pot b’ilin’.”

“Yes; but the diamonds I will keep for a special purpose.”

“You kin hev ’em, cap’n. I s’pose they is mine, seein’ as I made a swap with the gambler fer ’em; but when is I ter hev my chips called in, cap’n?”

“I will soon tell you; and Dick, if I can save you I will, as you have confessed all, and from my heart I pity you. Harry, you and Ben remain here until I return.”

“I’ll not attempt ter skip, cap’n; but ther boys hed better stay, so as yer’ll feel yer’ve got me,” called out the prisoner, as Captain Dash walked away toward the camp fire, around which the other members of the band were gathered.

With eager eyes, staring as a starving man at food he could not touch, Poker Dick watched Captain Dash as he joined the band of Texans. He saw them gather around the captain in an excited way, while the bright firelight falling upon their faces told that they were listening to the story of his crime.

Having heard the tale of his treachery, the prisoner saw them all sit down around the fire. Each moment then seemed an eternity. He knew that his life was in their hands, and that when he had joined the Revolver Riders oaths of membership bound them together which to break would bring death.

Once before a man of the band had turned traitor, and his life had been spared by the vote of all, and shortly after he had deserted and become a bandit, leaguing himself with Mexicans and Indians. With this recollection, would they spare Poker Dick?

He answered the question himself:

“I guess not; ef ther boys did, they’d be fools. I will hev ter pass in my chips.”

He turned to Seven-foot Harry and Ben Tabor.

“They seems ’arnest ’bout suthin’, pards.”

“The captain seems pleading for you, Dick,” answered Tabor.

“Yas, he’s powerful good; but I guesses the boys will string me.”

“I hopes not, Dick; I fer one decides ter pardon yer,” remarked Seven-foot Harry.

“’Tain’t no use, boys. I is ter be called on fer what chips I has got, an’ ther game’s agin’ me, fer I don’t hold a trump keerd: see, ther boys is comin’.”

Not a quiver of Poker Dick’s face showed any emotion, as the silent, stern-looking men came near and formed in a circle around him. Then Captain Dash said, in a low but distinct tone:

“Dick Martin, I regret, more than I can express, to have to say to you that your act this night, in aiding the escape of Kent King, that accursed gambler guide, has cost you your life.”

“I desarves all yer can say agin’ me, pards, so don’t let up on me,” was the quiet rejoinder.

“No, I throw no abuse or words of unkindness in the teeth of a man who stands on the brink of his grave. I have urged that your comrades overlook your crime this once, and give you another trial; but there are only three of us to beg this favor against twenty-seven who say you must die.”

At a word from their leader the men ranged themselves in line, and passed by the doomed man, grasping his hand in grim, silent farewell, and then continuing on into the darkness beyond the firelight.

“Now, cap’n, here’s my last grip, an’ it’s not with ther hand thet tuk ther slugs an’ dimints. Good-by, for I is goin’ over ther dark river, an’ you’ll follow afore long.”

Captain Dash grasped the man’s hand, and then called out:

“Men, once more I ask it: spare this brave man’s life.”

A hoarse, low, stern answer came from back in the shadow:

“No!”

The leader bowed his head a moment, but quickly recovering himself, called out in stern tones:

“Are you ready?”

A low assent came from the darkness beyond.

“One! two! three! fire!”

Six revolvers flashed together, and without a moan Poker Dick fell.