Ronicky Doone's Treasure (1922) (20 page)

"Ay, if they could run me down. But they can't. That west road I start on is going to swing off to an east road before long, and you and I are going
"

"Back to Trainor?"

He winced, but then he went on glibly: "We're going to follow it wherever you want it to be followed. But the first thing now is for you and me to get onto our hosses and ride as we never rode before. Will you come?"

"I'll come."

"And trust me?"

"What else can I do?"

"Then," cried the outlaw, "I've started a new life."

And, for the first time in his wild life, he meant what he said!

Chapter
Twenty-four. Preparations
.

All unconscious of the fact that their leader, so long trusted, had at last betrayed them, the band of Jack Moon gathered around Silas Treat when the black-bearded giant strode out of the trees and stood before them.

"Where's Moon?" asked one.

"Back with the girl. Going to put her out of the way while we plan to tackle the house. I told him he'd better knife the filly. That's what he'll do."

"You're a fool, Treat," said Baldy McNair, who took greater liberties in his speech and manner than any other in the band. "You're a fool and a swine. But the chief's right. He'll tie up the girl and leave her in the woods. No use having her around when we rush the house. And no use having her so near she can hear any yells. Has he got her far enough back so's she won't hear much?"

"Pretty near," said Si Treat. "Back there in that little clearing up the hill. The trees would cut off most of the noise near the ground from this direction."

"How long'll it take him?"

"Not long, and he says for us to keep right on planning till he shows up."

"We've made our plan. We're going to scatter and rush the shack from all sides at once. The old boy," Baldy went on to explain, "always figures that we ain't got the gumption to do anything or plan anything while he's away. Like as not he's lying back there in the brush and laughing to himself because we sit around and do nothing, with dead Bud Kent lying here to urge us along. Well, boys, let's up and show lack Moon that with him or without him we can get along. It's time he was showed that, anyway! I say, let's scatter. Best place to start from is the shack beside Ronicky's. Well, let's half of us get in there and the rest scatter out sort of promiscuous and get ready for the run. We'll call in the other gents that are watching now, and then we'll let drive. If them two in the shack ain't got nine lives apiece, well salt 'em away and plant 'em under ground. Are you with me?"

There was a grumble of sullen acquiescence in answer, and the eight began to spread swiftly around the edges of the clearing, taking advantage of all shelter of the trees until they should be within short sprinting distance of the shack.

That hut, in the meantime, remained as silent and as black as though the two men who formerly occupied it had long since taken to flight, melting unseen into the forest by mysterious stealth.

As a matter of fact, they had been hard at work during most of the past hour. It was Ronicky who possessed the feverish urge to get out of the confining quarters of the shack and strive to break through the lines of the enemy by a surprise attack. But the sober warnings of his companion deterred him. As Hugh Dawn repeatedly pointed out, they were being watched all the time, no matter how hushed the silence around the clearing might be. They were being watched by eyes that squinted down the deadly length of rifle barrels, and if they left their shelter and the thick log walls which were strong enough to stop a revolver bullet at least, they would certainly go down before they had taken more than two steps from their place of refuge.

Ronicky Doone submitted.

"But it sure galls me," he had remarked through his teeth, "to think of lying here and getting trapped like a rat! It sure galls me, Hugh. I'd rather die ten times fighting in the open than once behind the walls of a cage!"

The other had nodded, and, reaching through the darkness of the shack, he had laid his hand on the shoulder of his young friend and pressed it with a reassuring firmness. Indeed, Hugh was a rock of unperturbed strength during the entire crisis.

"We got the strong position," he kept assuring Ronicky.

"But suppose they rush us? It ain't more'n a couple of jumps to that nearest hut."

"That's right. But a gent can do a pile of shooting while somebody else is taking a couple of steps."

"In the night?"

"That makes it bad, all right. But I don't think they'll rush your guns, Ronicky! We might hang out the lantern after lighting it. That'd give us some light on one side of the house, anyway."

Ronicky merely laughed at the absurdity of the suggestion.

"They'd smash the lantern to bits with a couple of shots."

"Didn't think of that."

"How much oil is in that lantern?" asked Ronicky suddenly.

"It's a big one. About a quart of oil in it, I guess."

"And what's that old mattress in the corner stuffed with?"

"I dunno."

Ronicky crossed the floor and ripped open the small section of mattress which had once served on the corner bunk. An instant later he muttered a low exclamation of satisfaction and came back with a liberal armful of the waste with which the mattress had been stuffed.

"Now lemme have the lantern," he suggested.

It was given him, and to the astonishment of the elder man Ronicky opened the bottom of the tin support and thoroughly wet large portions of the waste with the kerosene.

"And what in Sam Hill," muttered Hugh Dawn, "d'you figure to win by wasting all that oil, son?"

"I'll show you in a minute."

He continued by lighting the lantern and taking off the chimney. Then he turned down the wick, so that there was only a quivering tongue tip of flame visible.

"They's enough oil," he explained, "to keep that lantern going till pretty near morning, if we don't bum it no faster'n that."

"I don't foller you, Ronicky."

"Well," explained the other, "here I put a pile of this oil-soaked stuff in my corner, and there I put a pile of it alongside of you. Suppose they was to start a rush. The first one of us that sees a move gives a yell and instead of shooting grabs up the waste and passes it over the lantern. The minute the oil comes anywhere near that flame it will bust into fire, and we throw the stuff out through the windows. It'll light up everything for a minute or two. It'll make us miss a half second that we could of used for shooting, but it'll also give us a chance to get in three or four aimed shots. I'd rather have one aimed shot than ten chance cracks at shadows."

Hugh Dawn, as the idea struck home to him, gasped with pleasure.

"I been lying here waiting to die," he admitted. "And now I figure that we got a ghost of a chance to keep 'em off. Just a ghost of a chance. But, Ronicky, ghosts can be mighty important things!"

There was another time of silence. The hour was now close to half past four in the morning, or thereabouts, and it was the period of greatest fatigue, when nervous reactions are slower, when the muscles are deadened for lack of sleep, and the mind is sick for weariness. And yet, once or twice at about this time, Ronicky heard humming.

After all, happiness is a comparative thing. Hugh Dawn had felt that he was to be slaughtered without a chance even to fight. The fighting chance was now to him almost as much as the promise of complete safety to most men. Ronicky, listening, wondered and admired.

"Suppose Jerry could look inside here and see you fighting for me, Ronicky. She'd have to change her mind about a couple of things, eh?"

"Not while Moon is there to talk to her. He won't give her a chance to think. The skunk has double crossed me, Hugh. I was a fool ever to listen to him, but I took his word. He swore that if there was trouble coming, he'd never let his crowd jump me. Him and me would fight it out man to man. That's why I come in
like a fool, partner! But here we are, both trapped, and me in no position to help the way I'd be if I was loose out there among the trees!"

"Maybe not, son. And if there was ever a square-shooter, it's you, Ronicky. Look!" Dawn pointed suddenly. "I seen something move behind the trees."

"And me!" answered Ronicky. "I think I hear somebody sneaking beside the other shack and
"

Suddenly he leaped up from his knees with a yell.

"Hugh! They're at us!"

Chapter
Twenty-five. The Attack
.

Ronicky had seen two low-moving shadows detach themselves from the front of the neighboring shack and start toward the front of his own at full speed, while from the window of the hut a rifleman began blazing away at his window. That hurricane of bullets, one after the other, should have the effect of making it lively for a marksman attempting to shoot from the aperture.

Ronicky scooped up a quantity of the waste and passed it over the lantern. Instantly the flames burst out, fed by the kerosene, and he hurled the armful, with the flames already sweeping back across his shirt, through the window and out into the night. It fell a considerable distance from the wall, and the wind, catching the flames, lifted them high so that all the surroundings were suddenly and brilliantly illumined.

It revealed the sharpshooter at the opposite window. It revealed the two skulkers midway between the fronts of the shacks. It showed, to the rear, three more breaking toward the shack at full speed. But one and all were checked. They yelled with astonishment and fear at this unexpected flood of light, while at the same time reechoed shouts of rage and fear from the other side of the house proved that Hugh Dawn had carried out his portion of the maneuver with equal success. Ronicky, aiming only at light, gained more than light. He derived the advantage of a surprise attack.

He began shooting
and shooting to kill. Across the room he heard the roaring of Hugh Dawn's gun as the sturdy old warrior began pumping lead from two revolvers at the same time. Very well. He might make a terrific amount of noise, but it was hardly likely that he would do as much execution as this slender, keen-eyed fellow at the window, planting his shots and wasting few of them indeed.

First of all he fired not at the onrushing forms, but directed his attention to the man at the opposite window. For he possessed a rifle, and he could take advantage of the flaring light from the waste, as it burned, to drive home a fatal shot. Straight at him Ronicky drove his first bullet, and he saw the other fling up his arms and sink from sight without a word.

In the meantime, the two men in the front had, after their moment of hesitation on being flooded with light, resumed their forward run, and another stride would take them into shelter around the corner of the hut. One of these Ronicky nailed midstride and saw the fellow pitch to his fate with a shrill scream of pain. But his companion shot out of view behind the corner of the logs.

There would be a future danger, for the man was now under the wall, and the logs protected him fully as much as they protected the men inside the hut.

Ronicky gave that danger only a fleeting thought. He had whirled, and now he looked to the south, where the three had been sweeping up from the woods.

His first bullet went wild
the sudden change of direction had thrown him off. His second bullet made the middle man of the three stagger and reel, but the ruffian kept on running. His third shot sent the left-hand fellow whirling about, and he dropped on his face. Before he could fire again, both of the survivors of the rush were under the protection of the walls.

At the same instant the firing of Hugh Dawn stopped, and Ronicky wheeled toward his companion.

"How many?" he whispered.

"Nailed one, sure," replied Hugh Dawn, breathing hard. "And you?"

"Three!" murmured Ronicky. "Down, Hugh!"

He followed his own precepts by flattening himself against the floor. Well for him that he did so! Scarcely was he down and Hugh crouched likewise in the far and shadowy corner of the hut, when a shadowy form darted into the open doorway and blazed away at the window where Ronicky had been standing. Too late the outlaw saw the target sprawled along the floor instead of erect, and changed his aim. Before he could get in a second shot Ronicky had fired for the sixth time, and the other, gasping with agony, spun over and disappeared through the doorway and into the outer night.

Then came silence.

"Did you turn 'em?" whispered Ronicky.

"Every one! One down and four went back
and a couple of them, I think, was nicked a little!"

His exultation shook his voice. But Ronicky pointed to the rear of the house with a warning gesture.

Of the eleven men of Moon's band, four had fallen dead, or apparently dead, in the attack. Two had been badly wounded by Ronicky, and perhaps one or more of the others had been struck by the bullets of Hugh Dawn. In a word, where the odds had been, counting Jack Moon, twelve to two, they had suddenly shrunk through this rushing assault and its attendant casualties to the far less imposing total of seven to two. Of the seven, at least two were badly hurt. It left at the most not more than five fighting effectives. But Ronicky, not knowing that Jack Moon had deserted his men, and never dreaming but that he was the directing mind behind the rush, counted the odds still three to one.