'Drag' Harlan Part 9

Deathless fame, the respect and the admiration of every man in the section was his if he beat "Drag" Harlan to the draw. Forever afterward, if he beat Harlan, he would be pointed at as the man who had met the Pardo gunman on even terms and had downed him.

He stepped out a little, away from the front of the building, edging off from Deveny and Gage so that Harlan would have to watch in two directions.

Lawson and Rogers, having advanced to a position within a dozen paces of the group in front of the sheriff's office, now backed away, silent, watchful. Other men who had been standing near were on the move instantly. Some dove into convenient doorways, others withdrew to a little distance down the street. But all intently watched as Laskar showed by his actions that he intended to accept his chance.

Deveny, too, watched intently. He kept his gaze fixed upon Harlan, not even glancing toward Laskar. For Deveny's fear had gone, now that the dread presence had centered its attention elsewhere, and he was determined to discover the secret of Harlan's hesitating "draw," the curious movement that had given the man his sobriquet, "Drag." The discovery of that secret might mean much to him in the future; it might even mean life to him if Harlan decided to remain in the section.

Harlan had made no hostile movement as yet. He still stood where he had stood all along, except for the slight backward step he had taken before Laskar began to move. But he watched Laskar as the latter edged away from the other men, and when he saw Laskar's eyes widen with the thought that precedes action, with the gleam that reflects the command the brain trans.m.u.tes to the muscles, his right hand flashed downward toward the hip.

With a grunt, for Harlan had almost antic.i.p.ated his thoughts, Laskar's right hand swept toward the b.u.t.t of his pistol.

But Harlan's hand had come to a poise, just above the stock of his weapon--a pause so infinitesimal that it was merely a suggestion of a pause.

It was enough, however, to throw Laskar off his mental balance, and as he drew his weapon he glanced at Harlan's holster.

A dozen men who watched swore afterward that Laskar drew his gun first; that it was in his hand when Harlan's bullet struck him. But Deveny knew better; he knew that Laskar was dead on his feet before the muzzle of his weapon had cleared the holster, and that the shot he had fired had been the result of involuntary muscular action; that he had pulled the trigger after Harlan's bullet struck him, and while his gun had been loosening in his hand.

For Deveny had seen the bullet from Laskar's gun throw up sand at Harlan's feet after Harlan's weapon had sent its death to meet Laskar.

And Deveny had discovered the secret of Harlan's "draw." The pause was a trick, of course, to disconcert an adversary. But the lightning flash of Harlan's hand to his gun-b.u.t.t was no trick. It was sheer rapidity, his hand moving so fast that the eye could not follow.

And Deveny could get no pleasure from his discovery. Harlan had waited until Laskar's fingers were wrapped around the stock of his pistol before he had drawn his own, and therefore in the minds of those who had witnessed the shooting, Harlan had been justified.

Sheriff Gage thought so, too. For, after Laskar's body had been carried away, Harlan stepped to where the sheriff stood and spoke shortly:

"You wantin' me for this?"

Sheriff Gage shook his head. "I reckon everybody saw Laskar go for his gun. There was no _call_ for him to go for his gun. If you'd have shot him without him reachin' for it things would have been different."

Harlan said coldly, "I'm ready for that trial, now."

The sheriff's eyes glowed with some secret significance as they met Harlan's. He was standing at a little distance from Deveny, and he deliberately closed an eye at Harlan.

"Trial--h.e.l.l!" he declared, "you've destroyed the evidence."

Harlan wheeled, to see Deveny standing near. And for an instant as their eyes met--Harlan's level and cold, Deveny's aflame with a hostility unmistakable--the crowd which had witnessed the shooting of Laskar again became motionless, while a silence, portending further violence, descended over the street.

Then Deveny abruptly wheeled and began to walk across to the First Chance.

He had not taken many steps, however, when there were sounds of commotion farther down the street toward the Eating-House--a man cursing and a girl screaming.

Deveny halted and faced the point from which the sounds came, and a scowl appeared on his face.

Harlan wheeled, also. And he saw, at a little distance down the street, a girl running, her hair tossing in a ma.s.s around her, her eyes wild with fright and terror. Behind her came a man, cursing as he ran.

Harlan heard Sheriff Gage curse, too--heard him say:

"That's Lane Morgan's daughter--Barbara! What in h.e.l.l is she doin' here?"

The girl, not more than a dozen feet ahead of her pursuer, ran straight toward Harlan. And when--as she drew closer and he saw that she was, indeed, actually coming toward him--her eyes on him as though she had singled him out as a protector--he advanced toward her, drawing one of his guns as he went.

And, grinning as she neared him, he opened his arms wide and she ran straight into them, and laid her head on his shoulder, sobbing, and talking incoherently. While Harlan, his grin fading as he looked at her pursuer--who had halted within half a dozen paces of the girl--commanded lowly:

"You're runnin' plumb into a heap of trouble, mister man. Throw your rope around the snubbin' post. Then get on your hind legs an' do some explainin'. What you chasin' this girl for?"

The man reddened, looked downward, then up at Deveny. The latter, a pout on his lips, his eyes glowing savagely, walked to where Harlan stood with one arm around the girl, while Lawson, Rogers, Gage, and several other men advanced slowly and stood near him.

CHAPTER VII

SINGLE-HANDED

Noting the concerted movement toward him, Harlan grinned at Barbara, gently disengaged himself from her grasp, and urged her toward the door of the sheriff's office. She made no objection, for she felt that further trouble impended, and she knew she must not impede any action her rescuer planned.

Reaching the street a few minutes before, she had noted the preparations for the swift tragedy that had followed; and despite her wild desire to escape Deveny's man, she had halted, fascinated by the spectacle presented by the two men, gambling with death.

She had halted at a little distance, crouching against the front of a building. And while she had been crouching there, trembling with a new apprehension, her pursuer had caught her.

She had hardly been aware of him, and his grasp on her arm she had not resisted, so intense was her interest in what was transpiring. But the sudden ending of the affair brought again into her consciousness the recollection of her own peril, and when she saw Deveny cross the street she broke from the man's restraining grasp and ran to Harlan, convinced that he--because he seemed to be antagonistic toward the forces arrayed against her--would protect her.

And now, shrinking into the open doorway of the sheriff's office, she watched breathlessly, with straining senses, the moving figures in the drama.

Harlan had backed a little way toward the doorway in which Barbara stood.

The movement was strategic, and had been accomplished with deliberation.

He was facing Lamo's population--at least that proportion of it which was at home--with the comforting a.s.surance that no part of it could get behind him.

The gun he had drawn upon the approach of Barbara's pursuer was still in his right hand. It menaced no one, and yet it seemed to menace everyone within range of it.

For though the gun was held loosely in Harlan's hand, the muzzle downward, there was a glow in the man's eyes that conveyed a warning.

The smile on his face, too, was pregnant with the promise of violence. It was a surface smile, penetrating no deeper than his lips, and behind it, partially masked by the smile, the men in the group in the street could detect the destroying pa.s.sion that ruled the man at this instant.

Deveny, who had approached to a point within a dozen feet of Harlan, came to a slow, reluctant halt when he caught a glimpse of the strange glow in Harlan's eyes. All the others, Sheriff Gage included, likewise halted--most of them at a considerable distance, as their conceptions of prudence suggested.

Harlan's grin grew ironic as he noted the pause--the concerted rigidity of Lamo's population.

"Seems there's a heap of folks wantin' to palaver," he said lowly. "An'

no one is crowdin' me. That's polite an' proper. Seems you all sort of guessed there's plenty of room, an' crowdin' ain't necessary. I'd thank every specimen to hook his thumbs in the armholes of his vest--same as though he's a member of the p.u.s.s.y-cafe outfit which I've seen in Chicago, makin' moon-eyes at girls. If there's any of you ain't got on vests, why, you can fasten your sky-hooks on your shoulders any way to suit your idee of safety. Get them up!"

It seemed ludicrous to Barbara, despite the shadow of tragedy that lurked over it all--the embarra.s.sed manner in which Lamo's citizens complied with the command, and the spectacle they presented afterward.

Deveny's hands were the last to go up. There was a coldly malignant glare in his eyes as under Harlan's unwavering gaze he finally raised his hands and held them, palms outward, as for inspection.

Rogers had complied instantly. There was a smile on his face, faint and suggestive of grim amus.e.m.e.nt, for he had been mentally tortured over the contemplation of Barbara's predicament, and had been unable to think of any plan by which he might a.s.sist her.

Meeder Lawson's face was sullen and full of impotent rage, and he watched Deveny with a gaze of bitter accusation when he saw that the big man intended to obey Harlan's order. Barbara's pursuer, having felt Deveny's angry gaze upon him, and being uncomfortably conscious that Harlan had not forgotten him, was red of face and self-conscious. He started, and the red in his face deepened, when Harlan, in the silence which followed the concerted raising of hands, spoke sharply to him: