Before Donnegan gave the signal to halt in a clear space where the starlight was least indistinct, they reached the center of the trees.
"Now, George," he said, "drop your gun to the ground."
There was a flash and faint thud.
"Now the other gun."
"They ain't any more, sir."
"Your other gun," repeated Donnegan.
A little pause. "Do what he tells you, George," said the gambler at length, and a second weapon fell.
"Now keep on your horse and keep a little off to the side," went on Donnegan, "and remember that if you try to give me the jump I might miss you in this light, but I'd be sure to hit your horse. So don't take chances, George. Now, sir, just hold your hands over your head and then dismount."
He had already gone through the gambler and taken his weapons; he was now obeyed. The man of the linen coat tossed up his arms, flung his right leg over the horn of the saddle, and slipped to the ground.
Donnegan joined his captive. "I warn you first," he said gently, "that I am quite expert with a revolver, and that it will be highly dangerous to attempt to trick me. Lower your arms if you wish, but please be careful of what you do with your hands. There are such things as knife throwing, I know, but it takes a fast wrist to flip a knife faster than a bullet. We understand each other?"
"Perfectly," agreed the other. "By the way, my name is Godwin. And suppose we become frank. You are in temporary distress. It was impossible for you to make a loan at the moment and you are driven to this forced--touch. Now, if half--"
"Hush," said Donnegan. "You are too generous. But the present question is not one of money. I have long since passed over that. The money is now mine. Steady!" This to George, who lurched in the saddle; but Godwin was calm as stone. "It is not the question of the money that troubles me, but the question of the men. I could easily handle one of you. But I fear to allow both of you to go free. You would return on my trail; there are such things as waylayings by night, eh? And so, Mr. Godwin, I think my best way out is to shoot you through the head. When your body is found it will be taken for granted that the servant killed the master for the sake of the money which he won by crooked card play. I think that's simple. Put your hands up, George, or, by heck, I'll let the starlight shine through you!"
The huge arms of George were raised above his head; Godwin, in the meantime, had not spoken.
"I almost think you mean it," he said after a short pause.
"Good," said Donnegan. "I do not wish to kill you unprepared."
There was a strangled sound deep in the throat of Godwin; then he was able to speak again, but now his voice was made into a horrible jumble by fear.
"Pal," he said, "you're dead wrong. George here--he's a devil. If you let him live he'll kill you--as sure as you're standing here. You don't know him. He's George Green. He's got a record as long as my arm and as bad as the devil's name. He--he's the man to get rid of. Me? Why, man, you and I could team it together. But George--not--"
Donnegan began to laugh, and the gambler stammered to a halt.
"I knew you when I laid eyes on you for the first time," said Donnegan. "You have the hands of a craftsman, but your eyes are put too close together. A coward's eyes--a cur's face, Godwin. But you, George--have you heard what he said?"
No answer from George but a snarl.
"It sounds logical what he said, eh, George?"
Dead silence.
"But," said Donnegan, "there are flaws in the plan. Godwin, get out of your clothes."
The other fell on his knees.
"For heaven's sake," he pleaded.
"Shut up," commanded Donnegan. "I'm not going to shoot you. I never intended to, you fool. But I wanted to see if you were worth splitting the coin with. You're not. Now get out of your clothes."
He was obeyed in fumbling haste, and while that operation went on, he succeeded in jumping out of his own rags and still kept the two fairly steadily under the nose of his gun. He tossed this bundle to Godwin, who accepted it with a faint oath; and Donnegan stepped calmly and swiftly into the clothes of his victim.
"A perfect fit," he said at length, "and to show that I'm pleased, here's your purse back. Must be close to two hundred in that, from the weight."
Godwin muttered some unintelligible curse.
"Tush. Now, get out! If you show your face in The Corner again, some of those miners will spot you, and they'll dress you in tar and feathers."
"You fool. If they see you in my clothes?"
"They'll never see these after tonight, probably. You have other clothes in your packs, Godwin. Lots of 'em. You're the sort who knows how to dress, and I'll borrow your outfit. Get out!"
The other made no reply; a weight seemed to have fallen upon him along with his new outfit, and he slunk into the darkness. George made a move to follow; there was a muffled shriek from Godwin, who fled headlong; and then a sharp command from Donnegan stopped the big man.
"Come here," said Donnegan.
George Washington Green rode slowly closer.
"If I let you go what would you do?"
There was a glint of teeth.
"I'd find him."
"And break him in two, eh? Instead, I'm going to take you home, where you'll have a chance of breaking me in two instead. There's something about the cut of your shoulders and your head that I like, Green; and if you don't murder me in the first hour or so, I think we'll get on very well together. You hear?"
The silence of George Washington Green was a tremendous thing.
"Now ride ahead of me. I'll direct you how to go."
He went first straight back through the town and up the hill to the two tents. He made George go before him into the tent and take up the roll of bedding; and then, with George and the bedding leading the way, and Donnegan leading the two horses behind, they went across the hillside to a shack which he had seen vacated that evening. It certainly could not be rented again before morning, and in the meantime Donnegan would be in possession, which was a large part of the law in The Corner, as he knew.
A little lean-to against the main shack served as a stable; the creek down the hillside was the watering trough. And Donnegan stood by while the big Negro silently tended to the horses--removing the packs and preparing them for the night. Still in silence he produced a small lantern and lighted it. It showed his face for the first time--the skin ebony black and polished over the cheekbones, but the rest of the face almost handsome, except that the slight flare of his nostrils gave him a cast of inhuman ferocity. And the fierceness was given point by a pair of arms of gorilla length; broad shoulders padded with rolling muscles, and the neck of a bull. On the whole, Donnegan, a connoisseur of fighting men, had never seen such promise of strength.
At his gesture, George led the way into the house. It was more commodious than most of the shacks of The Corner. In place of a single room this had two compartments--one for the kitchen and another for the living room. In vacating the hut, the last occupants had left some of the furnishings behind them. There was a mirror, for instance, in the corner; and beneath the mirror a cheap table in whose open drawer appeared a tumble of papers. Donnegan dropped the heavy sack of Godwin's winnings to the floor, and while George hung the lantern on a nail on the wall, Donnegan crossed to the table and appeared to run through the papers.
He was humming carelessly while he did it, but all the time he watched with catlike intensity the reflection of George in the mirror above him. He saw--rather dimly, for the cheap glass showed all its images in waves--that George turned abruptly after hanging up the lantern, paused, and then whipped a hand into his coat pocket and out again.
Donnegan leaped lightly to one side, and the knife, hissing past his head, buried itself in the wall, and its vibrations set up a vicious humming. As for Donnegan, the leap that carried him to one side whirled him about also; he faced the big man, who was now crouched in the very act of following the knife cast with the lunge of his powerful body. There was no weapon in Donnegan's hand, and yet George hesitated, balanced--and then slowly drew himself erect.
He was puzzled. An outburst of oaths, the flash of a gun, and he would have been at home in the brawl, but the silence, the smile of Donnegan and the steady glance were too much for him. He moistened his lips, and yet he could not speak. And Donnegan knew that what paralyzed George was the manner in which he had received warning. Evidently the simple explanation of the mirror did not occur to the fellow; and the whole incident took on supernatural colorings. A phrase of explanation and Donnegan would become again an ordinary human being; but while the small link was a mystery the brain and body of George were numb. It was necessary above all to continue inexplicable. Donnegan, turning, drew the knife from the wall with a jerk. Half the length of the keen blade had sunk into the wood--a mute tribute to the force and speed of George's hand--and now Donnegan took the bright little weapon by the point and gave it back to the other.
"If you throw for the body instead of the head," said Donnegan, "you have a better chance of sending the point home."
He turned his back again upon the gaping giant, and drawing up a broken box before the open door he sat down to contemplate the night. Not a sound behind him. It might be that the big fellow had regained his nerve and was stealing up for a second attempt; but Donnegan would have wagered his soul that George Washington Green had his first and last lesson and that he would rather play with bare lightning than ever again cross his new master.
At length: "When you make down the bunks," said Donnegan, "put mine farthest from the kitchen. You had better do that first."
"Yes--sir," came the deep bass murmur behind him.
And the heart of Donnegan stirred, for that "sir" meant many things.
Presently George crossed the floor with a burden; there was the "whish" of the blankets being unrolled--and then a slight pause. It seemed to him that he could hear a heavier breathing. Why? And searching swiftly back through his memory he recalled that his other gun, a stub-nosed thirty-eight, was in the center of his blanket roll.
And he knew that George had the weapon in his big hand. One pressure of the trigger would put an end to Donnegan; one bullet would give George the canvas sack and its small treasure.
"When you clean my gun," said Donnegan, "take the action to pieces and go over every part."
He could actually feel the start of George.
Then: "Yes, sir," in a subdued whisper.
If the escape from the knife had startled George, this second incident had convinced him that his new master possessed eyes in the back of his head.
And Donnegan, paying no further heed to him, looked steadily across the hillside to the white tent of Lou Macon, fifty yards away.
