Gunman's Reckoning Page 2

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  The brakie heard this recital with the keenest interest, nodding fromtime to time.

  "What beats me, Lefty," he said at the end of the story, "is why youdidn't knife into the fight yourself and take a hand with Donnegan"

  At this Lefty was silent. It was rather the silence of one which cannottell whether or not it is worth while to speak than it was the silenceof one who needs time for thought.

  "I'll tell you why, bo. It's because when I take a trail like that itonly has one end I'm going to bump off the other bird or he's going tobump off me"

  The brakie cleared his throat

  "Look here," he said, "looks to me like a queer thing that you're onthis train"

  "Does it" queried Lefty softly "Why?"

  "Because Donnegan is two cars back, asleep."

  "The devil you say!"

  The brakie broke into laughter

  "Don't kid yourself along," he warned. "Don't do it. It ain'twise--with me."

  "What you mean?"

  "Come on, Lefty. Come clean. You better do a fade off this train."

  "Why, you fool--"

  "It don't work, Joe. Why, the minute I seen you I knew why you was here.I knew you meant to croak Donnegan."

  "Me croak him? Why should I croak him?"

  "Because you been trailing him two thousand miles. Because you ain't gotthe nerve to meet him face to face and you got to sneak in and take acrack at him while he's lying asleep. That's you, Lefty Joe!"

  He saw Lefty sway toward him; but, all stories aside, it is a very boldtramp that cares for argument of a serious nature with a brakie. Andeven Lefty Joe was deterred from violent action. In the darkness hisupper lip twitched, but he carefully smoothed his voice.

  "You don't know nothing, pal," he declared.

  "Don't I?"

  "Nothing," repeated Lefty.

  He reached into his clothes and produced something which rustled in therush of wind. He fumbled, and finally passed a scrap of the paper intothe hand of the brakie.

  "My heavens," drawled the latter. "D'you think you can fix me with abuck for a job like this? You can't bribe me to stand around while youbump off Donnegan. Can't be done, Lefty!"

  "One buck, did you say?"

  Lefty Joe expertly lighted a match in spite of the roaring wind, and bythis wild light the brakie read the denomination of the bill with agasp. He rolled up his face and was in time to catch the sneer on theface of Lefty before a gust snatched away the light of the match.

  They had topped the highest point in Jericho Pass and now the long traindropped into the down grade with terrific speed. The wind became ahurricane. But to the brakie all this was no more than a calm night. Histhoughts were raging in him, and if he looked back far enough heremembered the dollar which Donnegan had given him; and how he hadpromised Donnegan to give the warning before anything went wrong. Hethought of this, but rustling against the palm of his right hand wasthe bill whose denomination he had read, and that figure ate into hismemory, ate into his brain.

  After all what was Donnegan to him? What was Donnegan but a worthlesstramp? Without any answer to that last monosyllabic query, the brakiehunched forward, and began to work his way up the train.

  The tramp watched him go with laughter. It was silent laughter. In themost quiet room it would not have sounded louder than a continual, lighthissing noise. Then he, in turn, moved from his place, and worked hisway along the train in the opposite direction to that in which thebrakie had disappeared.

  He went expertly, swinging from car to car with apelike clumsiness--andsurety. Two cars back. It was not so easy to reach the sliding side doorof that empty car. Considering the fact that it was night, that thetrain was bucking furiously over the old roadbed, Lefty had a notaltogether simple task before him. But he managed it with the sameapelike adroitness. He could climb with his feet as well as his hands.He would trust a ledge as well as he would trust the rung of a ladder.

  Under his discreet manipulations from above the door loosened and itbecame possible to work it back. But even this the tramp did withconsiderable care. He took advantage of the lurching of the train, andevery time the car jerked he forced the door to roll a little, so thatit might seem for all the world as though the motion of the train alonewere operating it.

  For suppose that Donnegan wakened out of his sound sleep and observedthe motion of the door; he would be suspicious if the door opened in asingle continued motion; but if it worked in these degrees he would behypersuspicious if he dreamed of danger. So the tramp gave five wholeminutes to that work.

  When it was done he waited for a time, another five minutes, perhaps, tosee if the door would be moved back. And when it was not disturbed, butallowed to stand open, he knew that Donnegan still slept.

  It was time then for action, and Lefty Joe prepared for the descent intothe home of the enemy. Let it not be thought that he approached thismoment with a fallen heart, and with a cringing, snaky feeling as a manmight be expected to feel when he approached to murder a sleepingfoeman. For that was not Lefty's emotion at all. Rather he was overcomeby a tremendous happiness. He could have sung with joy at the thoughtthat he was about to rid himself of this pest.

  True, the gang was broken up. But it might rise again. Donnegan hadfallen upon it like a blight. But with Donnegan out of the way would notSuds come back to him instantly? And would not Kennebec Lou himselfreturn in admiration of a man who had done what he, Kennebec, could notdo? With those two as a nucleus, how greatly might he not build!

  Justice must be done to Lefty Joe. He approached this murder as astatesman approaches the removal of a foe from the path of publicprosperity. There was no more rancor in his attitude. It was rather theblissful largeness of the heart that comes to the politician when heunearths the scandal which will blight the race of his rival.

  With the peaceful smile of a child, therefore, Lefty Joe lay stretchedat full length along the top of the car and made his choice of weapons.On the whole, his usual preference, day or night, was for a revolver.Give him a gat and Lefty was at home in any company. But he had reasonsfor transferring his alliance on this occasion. In the first place, abox car which is reeling and pitching to and fro, from side to side, isnot a very good shooting platform--even for a snapshot like Lefty Joe.Also, the pitch darkness in the car would be a further annoyance to goodaim. And in the third and most decisive place, if he were to miss hisfirst shot he would not be extremely apt to place his second bullet. ForDonnegan had a reputation with his own revolver. Indeed, it was saidthat he rarely carried the weapon, because when he did he was alwaystempted too strongly to use it. So that the chances were large thatDonnegan would not have the gun now. Yet if he did have it--if he,Lefty, did miss his first shot--then the story would be brief and bitterindeed.

  On the other hand, a knife offered advantages almost too numerous to belisted. It gave one the deadly assurance which only comes with theknowledge of an edge of steel in one's hand. And when the knife reachesits mark it ends a battle at a stroke.

  Of course these doubts and considerations pro and con went through themind of the tramp in about the same space of time that it requires for adog to waken, snap at a fly, and drowse again. Eventually, he took outhis knife. It was a sheath knife which he wore from a noose of silkaround his throat, and it always lay closest to his heart. The blade ofthe knife was of the finest Spanish steel, in the days when Spanishsmiths knew how to draw out steel to a streak of light; the handle ofthe knife was from Milan. On the whole, it was a delicate and beautifulweapon--and it had the durable suppleness of--say--hatred itself.

  Lefty Joe, like a pirate in a tale, took this weapon between his teeth;allowed his squat, heavy bulk to swing down and dangle at arm's lengthfor an instant, and then he swung himself a little and landed softly onthe floor of the car.

  Who has not heard snow drop from the branch upon other snow beneath?That was the way Lefty Joe dropped to the floor of the car. He remainedas he had fallen; crouched, alert, with one hand spread out
on theboards to balance him and give him a leverage and a start in case heshould wish to spring in any direction.

  Then he began to probe the darkness in every direction; with everyglance he allowed his head to dart out a little. The movement was like achicken pecking at imaginary grains of corn. But eventually he satisfiedhimself that his quarry lay in the forward end of the car; that he wasprone; that he, Lefty, had accomplished nine-tenths of his purpose byentering the place of his enemy unobserved.