The Devil's Own Part 29

"Oh, I reckon she ain't fur away; we kin find her all right. I got ter know 'bout yer furst. Are yer game?"

"I'm game 'nough, Jack," a.s.suming a familiarity I thought he would appreciate. "Only I don't want'r jump inter this yere thing without knowin' nuthin' 'bout it. What is it yer got lined up fer me ter do?"

He helped himself to yet another liberal drink, and I was glad to note that the fiery liquor was already beginning to have its effect, increasing his recklessness of speech.

"All right, Dan; have another one on me--no? Wal', h.e.l.l; I 'spose I might as wal' tell ye furst as last. Thar ain't nuthin' fer eny o' us ter git skeered about. We got it all planned. I sorter picked yer out 'cause thar ain't n.o.boddy knows yer in camp here--see? If yer disappear thar won't n.o.boddy give a d.a.m.n. An' thar ain't scarcely n.o.boddy what knows the gurl is yere nether--only maybe a few soldiers, who thinks she's a n.i.g.g.e.r. We don't want this affair talked about none, do we? I reckon not. So we planned it out this way: Thar's a frien' o' mine got a shack down on Bear Crick, 'bout twenty mile below yere. He sells red-eye ter barge an' keel-boatmen, what tie up thar nights. Wal', he's all right--a h.e.l.l o' a good feller. What we aim ter do is run the gurl down thar ternight, unbekno'nst ter enybody. I reckon yer kin ride a hoss?"

"Yes; so thet's my job?"

"Thet's the whole o' it. Yer Just got ter stay thar with her till Kirby kin git away, without n.o.boddy thinkin' enything 'bout it. It's d.a.m.n easy money ter my notion."

I thought swiftly. There were several questions I wanted to ask, but dare not. It was better to trust to luck, for I must lull, not arouse suspicion. Thus far the affair had played wonderfully into my hands; if I could maintain my part to the end, there ought to be no reason why the girl should not be saved uninjured. The one thing which I had feared no longer threatened--I was not to be brought face to face with Kirby. If we encountered each other at all, it would be in darkness, where there was only slight probability of recognition. The impatience in Kale's face drove me to declare myself.

"Why, if thet's all I got ter do fer a hundred dollars," I said gaily, "I'm yer man, Jack. An' how soon will Kirby be comin' down ter this yer place on Bear Crick?"

"In a day er two, I reckon. Soon's thar's sum boat headin' down river.

Yer see, this yer's all camp; thar ain't no fit place whar we kin hide the gurl, an' make her keep her mouth shet. Them blamed soldiers are a moosin' 'bout every whar, an' if she onct got talkin', our goose wud be cooked. Furst thing we got ter do is git her outer this camp."

"Ternight, yer sed?"

"'Bout midnight; yer'll go'--hey?"

"I reckon; yer got the money?"

With his eyes fastened on the two men eating, he counted out some gold pieces on the bar and shoved them over to me, keeping them under cover of his hand.

"Thar's half o' it, an' the rest is yers when ye bring back the hosses."

"How many hosses? Who's a goin'?"

"Three o' yer. Kirby's fer sendin' the mulatter gurl 'long. She's a free n.i.g.g.e.r an' might let her tongue wag. Now listen, Moffett, I'm a goin' out putty soon ter git things ready, an' I'll leave Sal yere ter tend bar. Now git this; thar's a right smart trail back o' the cabin, leadin' straight down ter the crick, with a spring 'bout half way.

Thar ain't no guard down thar, an' ye can't miss it, even en the dark.

The hosses will be thar et midnight waitin' fer yer. All ye got ter do is just put them two gurls on an' ride away. Yer don't never need ter speak ter 'em. Yer understand? All right, then; hav' anuther drink."

I shook my head.

"But how'm I goin' ter git ter this place--whatever it's called?"

"Thar ain't no trouble 'bout thet; all yer got ter do is ride straight south till yer c.u.m ter the crick, an' yer thar. It's Jenkins' Crossing yer after."

"I reckon thar ain't eny Injuns, er nuthin'?"

"h.e.l.l, no; they're all t'other direction; nuthin' worse'n wolves. Say, though, yer might have trouble with them gurls--got a gun?"

"No."

He reached back into a small drawer under the shelf, and brought out an ugly-looking weapon, tried the hammer movement with his thumb, and handed it over to me with a grin.

"Some cannon, an' I want it back. Don't fail at midnight."

"An' thar ain't nuthin' fer me ter do till then?"

"Not a thing; take a nap, if ye want'r. Sal kin wake ye up. I reckon I won't be back till after yer off."

I sat down in a chair and leaned back against the wall, tilting my hat down over my eyes and pretending to fall asleep. Through half-closed lids I managed to see all that transpired in the room, and my mind was busy with the approaching crisis. Had Rale revealed all the details of their plan to me, I wondered. It seemed comprehensive enough, and yet it hardly appeared possible that they would thoughtlessly place in the hands of any stranger such an advantage. It would only be natural for them to withhold something--merely trusting me with what I actually had to know. Yet crime was forever making just such mistakes; these men had to place confidence in someone, and, after all, it was not so strange that the saloon keeper had selected me. I had come to him a penniless river b.u.m, representing a cla.s.s he had dealt with all his life. I had played the part well, and he had found no reason to suspect me. Moreover the course they were pursuing appeared perfectly natural--the only means of carrying out their scheme, with the least possible chance for discovery.

Rale busied himself for some minutes before putting on his hat, counting over some money, and filling his bottles from a reserve stock underneath the shelf. The two men completed their meal and resumed their card game, while Sal hastily washed up the few dishes and tucked them away in a rude cupboard beside the fireplace. Tim slept peacefully on, but had slightly changed his posture, so that his face was now upturned to the light. The sight of his familiar features gave me an inspiration. He was, undoubtedly, an honest fellow, and had quarreled with Kirby over this very matter, refusing to have any hand in it. He had supposed up to that time that he was doing no more than his duty under the law. If I could arouse him from drunken stupor, he might even be willing to work with me in the attempt to rescue Eloise.

Rale disappeared through the rear door, after exchanging a few words with the woman, and did not return. I waited motionless for some time, fearful lest he might come back. Suddenly the front door opened noiselessly, and Kirby entered, advancing straight toward the bar. Sal served him, answering his questions, which were spoken so low I could not catch the words. His eyes swept the room, but the hat concealed my face, and he only recognized Tim. He paused long enough to bend above the upturned features of the unconscious deputy, not unpleased, evidently, to discover him in that condition.

"The d.a.m.ned old fool," he muttered, perhaps not aware that he spoke aloud. "Rale has got him fixed, all right."

CHAPTER XXIV

KIRBY AND I MEET

Sal remained seated behind the bar, nodding, and, so soon as I felt reasonably a.s.sured that she was without interest in my movements, I leaned forward and endeavored to arouse Kennedy. This was by no means easy of accomplishment, and I was compelled to pinch the fellow rather severely before he sat up angrily, blurting out the first words which came to his lips:

"What the devil--"

His half-opened eyes caught my gesture for silence, and he stopped instantly, his lips widely parted.

"Meet me outside," I whispered, warningly. "But be careful about it."

The slight noise had failed to disturb the woman, and I succeeded in slipping through the unlatched door without noting any change in her posture. Tim, now thoroughly awake, and aware of something serious in the air, was not long in joining me without, and I drew him aside into a spot of deeper blackness under the trees. He was still indignant over the pinching, and remained drunk enough to be quarrelsome. I cut his m.u.f.fled profanity short.

"That's quite enough of that, Tim," I said sharply, and was aware that he stared back at me, plainly perplexed by the change in my tone and manner. "You are an officer of the law; so am I, and it is about time we were working together."

He managed to release a gruff laugh.

"You--you d.a.m.n b.u.m; h.e.l.l, that's a good joke--what'r yer givin' me now?"

"The exact truth; and it will be worth your while, my man, to brace up and listen. I am going to give you a chance to redeem yourself--a last chance. It will be a nice story to tell back in St. Louis that you helped to kidnap a wealthy young white woman, using your office as a cloak for the crime, and, besides that, killing two men to serve a river gambler. Suppose I was to tell that sort of tale to Governor Clark, and give him the proofs--where would you land?"

He breathed hard, scarcely able to articulate, but decidedly sober.

"What--what's that? Ain't you the fellar thet wus on the boat?

Who--who the devil are yer?"

"I am an officer in the army," I said gravely, determined to impress him first of all, "and I worked on that steamer merely to learn the facts in this case. I know the whole truth now, even to your late quarrel with Kirby. I do not believe you realized before what you were doing--but you do now. You are guilty of a.s.sisting that contemptible gambler to abduct Eloise Beaucaire, and are s.h.i.+elding him now in his cowardly scheme to compel her to marry him by threat and force."

"The d.a.m.n, low-lived pup--I told him whut he wus."

"Yes, but that doesn't prevent the crime. He's all you said, and more.

But calling the man names isn't going to frighten him, nor get that girl out of his clutches. What I want to know is, are you ready to help me fight the fellow? block his game?"

"How? What do ye want done?"