Both men were awake early, silent with the premonition of trouble ahead, thoughtful of the fact that the time for the long-planned action was at hand. It was remarkable that a man as loquacious as Euchre could hold his tongue so long; and this was significant of the deadly nature of the intended deed.
During breakfast he said a few words customary in the service of food. At the conclusion of the meal he seemed to come to an end of deliberation.
"Buck, the sooner the better now," he declared, with a glint in his eye. "The more time we use up now the less surprised Bland'll be.""I'm ready when you are," replied Duane, quietly, and he rose from the table.
"Wal, saddle up, then," went on Euchre, gruffly. "Tie on them two packs I made, one fer each saddle. You can't tell--mebbe either hoss will be carryin' double. It's good they're both big, strong hosses. Guess thet wasn't a wise move of your Uncle Euchre's--bringin' in your hosses an' havin' them ready?""Euchre, I hope you're not going to get in bad here. I'm afraid you are. Let me do the rest now," said Duane.
The old outlaw eyed him sarcastically.
"Thet 'd be turrible now, wouldn't it? If you want to know, why, I'm in bad already. I didn't tell you thet Alloway called me last night. He's gettin' wise pretty quick.""Euchre, you're going with me?" queried Duane, suddenly divining the truth. '
"Wal, I reckon. Either to hell or safe over the mountain! Iwisht I was a gun-fighter. I hate to leave here without takin' a peg at Jackrabbit Benson. Now, Buck, you do some hard figgerin' while I go nosin' round. It's pretty early, which 's all the better."Euchre put on his sombrero, and as he went out Duane saw that he wore a gun-and-cartridge belt. It was the first time Duane had ever seen the outlaw armed.
Duane packed his few belongings into his saddlebags, and then carried the saddles out to the corral. An abundance of alfalfa in the corral showed that the horses had fared well. They had gotten almost fat during his stay in the valley. He watered them, put on the saddles loosely cinched, and then the bridles.
His next move was to fill the two canvas water-bottles. That done, he returned to the cabin to wait.
At the moment he felt no excitement or agitation of any kind.
There was no more thinking and planning to do. The hour had arrived, and he was ready. He understood perfectly the desperate chances he must take. His thoughts became confined to Euchre and the surprising loyalty and goodness in the hardened old outlaw. Time passed slowly. Duane kept glancing at his watch. He hoped to start the thing and get away before the outlaws were out of their beds. Finally he heard the shuffle of Euchre's boots on the hard path. The sound was quicker than usual.
When Euchre came around the corner of the cabin Duane was not so astounded as he was concerned to see the outlaw white and shaking. Sweat dripped from him. He had a wild look.
"Luck ours--so-fur, Buck!" he panted.
"You don't look it," replied Duane.
"I'm turrible sick. Jest killed a man. Fust one I ever killed!""Who?" asked Duane, startled.
"Jackrabbit Benson. An' sick as I am, I'm gloryin' in it. Iwent nosin' round up the road. Saw Alloway goin' into Deger's.
He's thick with the Degers. Reckon he's askin' questions.
Anyway, I was sure glad to see him away from Bland's. An' he didn't see me. When I dropped into Benson's there wasn't nobody there but Jackrabbit an' some greasers he was startin' to work.
Benson never had no use fer me. An' he up an' said he wouldn't give a two-bit piece fer my life. I asked him why.
"'You're double-crossin' the boss an' Chess,' he said.
"'Jack, what 'd you give fer your own life?' I asked him.
"He straightened up surprised an' mean-lookin'. An' I let him have it, plumb center! He wilted, an' the greasers run. Ireckon I'll never sleep again. But I had to do it."Duane asked if the shot had attracted any attention outside.
"I didn't see anybody but the greasers, an' I sure looked sharp. Comin' back I cut across through the cottonwoods past Bland's cabin. I meant to keep out of sight, but somehow I had an idee I might find out if Bland was awake yet. Sure enough Irun plumb into Beppo, the boy who tends Bland's hosses. Beppo likes me. An' when I inquired of his boss he said Bland had been up all night fightin' with the Senora. An', Buck, here's how I figger. Bland couldn't let up last night. He was sore, an' he went after Kate again, tryin' to wear her down. Jest as likely he might have went after Jennie, with wuss intentions.
Anyway, he an' Kate must have had it hot an' heavy. We're pretty lucky.""It seems so. Well, I'm going," said Duane, tersely.
"Lucky! I should smiler Bland's been up all night after a most draggin' ride home. He'll be fagged out this mornin', sleepy, sore, an' he won't be expectin' hell before breakfast. Now, you walk over to his house. Meet him how you like. Thet's your game. But I'm suggestin', if he comes out an' you want to parley, you can jest say you'd thought over his proposition an' was ready to join his band, or you ain't. You'll have to kill him, an' it 'd save time to go fer your gun on sight. Might be wise, too, fer it's likely he'll do thet same.""How about the horses?"
"I'll fetch them an' come along about two minnits behind you.
'Pears to me you ought to have the job done an' Jennie outside by the time I git there. Once on them hosses, we can ride out of camp before Alloway or anybody else gits into action. Jennie ain't much heavier than a rabbit. Thet big black will carry you both.""All right. But once more let me persuade you to stay--not to mix any more in this," said Duane, earnestly.