The Heart of Thunder Mountain. Edfrid A. Bingham
indeed, regarded Haig as an intruder; many of them had more than once threatened violence against him; and there was not among them one whom Haig, if he had wanted a defender, could have counted on. Yet, for all that, Huntington was practically alone in the depth of his hatred and the violence of his methods. If Haig had no friends in the Park, he had only a few, perhaps no more than two or three, inveterate enemies, of whom Huntington was the active representative.
Huntington now saw in the faces of the men around him that they were doubtful of him, and that the time was opportune to turn their passivity into energetic support of his plans. Moreover, he had already “put his foot in it,” had gone too far to withdraw without discredit. Having openly insulted the absent enemy, and having clearly revealed his intention to cheat him of this prize, to weaken now would be to abandon forever all hope of ascendency. For an instant he regretted what he had done, and cursed himself under his breath. Then, taking a new grip on himself, he returned to the attack.
“Seven hundred and fifty, then!” he said with a swagger. “And it’s cash, not words.”
There was a moment of suspense. The three men, who were moving slowly away, turned in their saddles. Not a muscle quivered, not a foot stirred in the expectant crowd. Marion felt that in another minute she would cry out, shrieking at Seth, shrieking the warning Haig had sent by her.
“That’s good enough, for me!” declared Raley, throwing the reins over his pony’s head, and preparing painfully to dismount.
“No, Jim!” cried Smith. “Let him say a thousand, an’ I’m with you. ’Tain’t exactly on the square, but the’s no use killin’ ourselves for–”
His speech was cut short by a shrill cry from a woman who stood on a horse block at the outer edge of the crowd.
“Look! Look!” she called, pointing a finger toward the long white road.
CHAPTER IV
THE HIGHEST BIDDER
Far up the road appeared a little cloud of dust with a black speck in its center.
A murmur ran through the crowd; a name was passed from mouth to mouth; and the men nearest Huntington began to edge away instinctively, leaving a larger and larger space clear around him and the three cow-punchers.
Marion too looked, and understood. She had not dismounted, but still sat her pony within ten feet of the outlaw, at the side of the roadway, in about the middle of which stood Huntington. With an effort she drew her eyes away from that ominous black spot in the distance, and turned toward Seth. A shiver ran through her body, but her cheeks burned, and there was a voice in her ears that shouted, “Tell him he’s a fool to anger me!” For a moment she was on the point of rushing upon Seth, and shrieking that warning into his face. But now it was too late.
Like all the others Huntington stood for a few seconds fascinated by that figure in the puff of dust. And for just those few seconds there was a certain unsteadiness in his attitude, irresolution in the black eyes beneath their bushy brows. But the blue-whiteness under the dark beard was not the pallor of fear, so called. Seth Huntington was as incapable of physical cowardice as he was of moral courage. He was not afraid of Philip Haig, but he was dreadfully afraid of being thought afraid of him. There was yet time to avoid a clash with Haig, to withdraw from an undertaking in which he knew he was wholly in the wrong. But he was not equal to that test of character. He would sooner tackle all the Haigs in Christendom than face the derision of his neighbors, whom he had assiduously taught to expect great things of him on the first occasion. Here was the occasion; he had seized it, blinded by passion; and there was no way for him now but to see it through. He straightened up, and faced the three cow-punchers.
“All right!” he cried defiantly. “It’s a thousand.”
But the three had heard the name murmured by the crowd, had seen the distant horseman. Larkin was plainly elated. Raley and Smith, as plainly abashed, looked this way and that, avoiding the eyes of their leader, and every other eye as well. Huntington, seeing the game about to slip from his hands, whirled on his heel and looked swiftly toward the store.
“Thompson!” he yelled.
“Here!” was the answer, as a small, gray-bearded man in shirt sleeves advanced a step or two from the door.
“Fetch me that roll from your safe, will you?”
“Right!”
As Thompson disappeared within the store, Huntington turned again toward the cowboys.
“A thousand dollars–cash!” he repeated.
Larkin leaned forward on his horse, and looked at him shrewdly.
“Seems to me it’s not the horse you’re after so much as him,” he said, with a grin and a nod toward the road.
“That’s as may be,” retorted Huntington. “Money talks.”
“An’ it says mighty funny things sometimes,” replied Larkin, who now made no concealment of his dislike of Huntington and his “game.”
“We’ll see!” cried Huntington angrily. “How does twelve hundred sound to you two?”
He looked steadily at Raley and Smith, who exchanged glances.
“What’s your awful hurry?” Larkin demanded, in a drawling tone, but with an anxious eye for the galloping figure now in plain view. “We’ll give Haig a chance to bid–eh, men?”
Smith shot an angry but uneasy look at the leader. Huntington saw it, and guessed that there was more than weariness and greed in the willingness of Smith and Raley to combine against Larkin. Probably, he thought, there had been differences of opinion, disputes even, on the road to Paradise. He turned impatiently toward the store.
At that instant Thompson ran out, broke through the ring of men, and handed a roll of “yellowbacks” to Huntington, who hurriedly peeled off several of the bills, and thrust them at arm’s length toward the wavering cow-punchers.
“Haig talked about a thousand dollars!” he cried. “There’s fifteen hundred. Do you want it?”
For a moment it was heads or tails. Even Larkin eyed the money hungrily. Then his teeth clicked together, and he turned upon his partners, whose faces showed plainly the answer that was upon their lips.
“An’ what’ll you say to him?” he demanded.
“Eighteen hundred!” shouted Huntington.
“That’s good enough for me!” cried Raley. “Say it, Jud!”
There was a distant thunder of hoofs as Haig’s horse took the short bridge over the Brightwater. The crowd backed still farther away from Huntington, who was again fingering his roll of bills.
“Two thousand!” he roared, shaking the handful of “yellowbacks” at the wavering Smith.
Raley leaned from his saddle, and grabbed Smith’s arm.
“Quick, Jud!” he pleaded hotly. “Don’t be a fool!”
“All right! We’ll take it!” answered Smith.
“No!” said Larkin firmly, pulling his horse around between Huntington and the two partners.
“Yes!” the two cried out together.
Huntington stepped forward, and thrust both handfuls of bills almost into Larkin’s face.
“Name your price then!” he bellowed.
Larkin looked at the money,–smelt it,–as he said afterwards, grimly confessing his weakness at the sight of more than he could save in years of riding the range and branding mavericks. If there had been ten seconds more–
Haig galloped into the crowd, which gave him plenty of room, and reined up his pony just in front of the golden outlaw. For some instants he saw only the horse; and his eyes kindled. Then he faced the cowboys and Huntington.
They were fixed in almost the very attitudes in which he had come upon them. Huntington’s outstretched hands had indeed fallen to his side, but they still clutched the crumpled