already. Ring off. Hang up. You’re on the wrong wire.”
“Say, kid,” he said with gravity, “Do I gather that you stand for that man-eater?”
“Take it any way you like,” she said coldly.
He laughed disagreeably.
“Of course you don’t,” he went on, “You’re simply kidding me along. What if I could show you the way out of the valley tonight, Jerry?”
She caught her breath.
“The way out? Freddie! Are you playing me straight?”
“I don’t know,” he said, with a trace of sullenness, “but this is my night on duty at the gap.”
“Then I’m free!” she cried, “I’ll start as soon as it’s pitch dark and—”
“Wait a minute,” he interrupted, “don’t run away with yourself. If you disappeared Black Jim would know I let you pass and when he found out that his—”
“Stop there,” she said. “Freddie, what do you mean—do you think—”
“Lay off on that, Jerry,” returned Montgomery. “You’re a swell dancer, but you can’t get away with heavy stuff like this. You’ve been all alone with him here, haven’t you?”
She touched her hand to her forehead and wondered at its coldness in a vague way.
“Why should I care?” she murmured, “Let him think what he will.”
“But I’m still strong for you,” Montgomery was saying. “Don’t get white and scared, kid. I don’t hold it against you, much. What I say is, why not get rid of Black Jim? You can take him off his guard. Say the word and I’ll hang around at night and you can signal me when he’s asleep. Then I’ll come and do the work. It’d be a risky job, but for your sake, kid, I’d—”
“You’ve said enough,” she answered, and then summoning her courage and fighting back her disgust, for here was her one chance to gain freedom. “If you’re afraid of him, why not go with me? What’s your idea? Do you really intend to stay here. Freddie, you haven’t become one of those swine!”
He laughed heavily.
“Swine?” he repeated; “Say, kid, did you ever see swine with this stuff hanging around in their hides?”
He slid a hand into his hip pocket and brought it out again full of gold pieces of three denominations. He poured it deftly back and forth.
“Take a slant at it, Jerry,” he said. “Listen to ‘em click! One little job I pulled last week brought me this and about twice as much more. Easy? say, it’s a shame to take the coin. It’s like robbing the cradle. Do you think I’d leave this game even to go off with you, Jerry? Not till I’m blind, kid! Get wise! Say the word and we can pull a stunt on Black Jim that’ll give us the cabin and all the loot that’s stacked up in it.”
His eyes glittered.
“How much has he got stowed away in there, kid?”
She retreated another pace. He was half a dozen yards away now.
“I don’t know,” she murmured. Fear was growing in her, and horror with it. In a sudden desperation she held out her hand to him and cried: “Freddie what is it? You were pretty clean when you first came up here. What has changed you? What’s happened?”
“What’s happened?” he asked, dully, as if he could not follow her meaning.
“Yes, yes! Open your lungs—taste this air. Isn’t that enough in itself to make a man of you? And the scent of the evergreen, Freddie—and the nearness of the sky—and the whiteness of the stars—”
“And the absence of the law, kid,” he broke in. “Don’t forget that. A man makes his own law up here, which means no law at all. We’re above it, that’s what we are. Stay here a little longer and you’ll get it, too!”
She stared at him with great eyes while her mind moved quickly. She was beginning to understand, not the gross-minded brute which Frederick Montgomery had become, but the singular influence of the wild, free life. Of those other twelve and of Montgomery, the open license made animals. There was a difference between them and Black Jim. She had felt the touch of the animal in him, too, but in another manner. The others were like feeders on carrion; he was truly a great and fearless beast of prey. The solemn silences of the mountains imparted to him some of their own dignity. The mystery and the terror of the wilderness were his.
“Above the law?” she said. “No, you’re beneath it. I wish—I wish I were a man for half a minute—to rid the world of you all!”
She turned and fled back to the cabin.
“Jerry! Oh, Jerry!” he shouted from the edge of the clearing where the deadline of Black Jim still held him.
She turned at the door.
“Have you made up your mind about it finally?”
She shuddered so that she could not answer.
“Then, by God, I’ll have you, if I have to get Black Jim first, and I’ll get his other loot when I get you!”
He disappeared among the trees and she went back into the cabin, weak at heart, and filled now with a strange yearning for the return of Black Jim. The vultures, she felt, circled above the valley, waiting for her. He was the strong eagle which would put them to flight.
Evening drew on. He did not come. Night settled black over the valley and the white stars brushed the great trees that fringed the cliffs. Still he did not come. The hearth fire remained unlighted. The damp cold of darkness numbed her hands and her heart. She waited, bowed and miserable. He was delayed, but delay to Black Jim could mean only death. No other force could take all this time for his return. This grew more certain in her mind as the hours passed. In that gloom every minute meant more than whole hours during the day.
At last she made up her mind. Montgomery—not the light-hearted man she had known, but a hot-eyed beast—threatened her. Not he alone, but perhaps all of the other twelve were so many dangers. Now that Black Jim was gone she was helpless in their hands.
By the next day they would know of his long absence and come for her—for her and for the rest of the loot, as Montgomery had said. She must get away from the valley that night. The sentinel was there, to be sure, but that sentinel was Montgomery and she felt that there was a fighting chance that she could pass him safely in the gap. If necessary she could fight, and perhaps she could handle a revolver as well as he. Perhaps she could surprise him. He would not look for the attempt and if she could get him under the aim of her revolver, she knew that he was not a hero.
Once out of the gap there was an even chance for life. She might wander through the mountains until she starved to death. On the other hand she might find a road and follow it to town.
She weighed the chances in her own practical way; rose from the stool; saw that her cartridge belt was well filled; strapped a canvas bag full of food on the other hip, and left the cabin.
She kept as closely as possible to the center
