“I see the outside,” said Pete shortly, “but I got an idea you see a lot more on the inside than I’ll ever be able to see. But - The Ghost! How come?”
Bull sat down on his bunk. He could not move to another place nearer his friend, for The Ghost squatted before him and checked every attempt of his to advance, with a wicked glint of the eyes and a growl. He looked big as a bear in that lantern light, and thrice as dangerous.
Sitting on the bunk, Bull told the story hastily. While he talked he stroked the great head of The Ghost from time to time, and each time the fingers touched him, the head was lowered a little, and the eyes of the big wolf softened. When the tale was ended, Pete Reeve swore softly with admiration.
“It’s you that’s got the nerve, Bull,” he declared. “The rest of us aren’t a thing beside you! Why - maybe you’ll get some good out of the brute - and him The Ghost!”
That name seemed to be the big stumbling-block for Pete’s astonishment.
“Another thing,” went on Bull. “There was a rancher with the hunters. Name was Jordan.”
“I know him,” said Pete, sharpening with interest. “I know him pretty well. What about him?”
“You say that,” said Bull, “as if you didn’t like him much.”
“I don’t. But fire away. What did he have to say?”
“He left a message for you. You see I offered to buy The Ghost for the price of the dogs he’d killed during the chase. Killed two, you see. And Jordan seemed sort of surprised to find out I had that much money.”
“And did you pay for the dogs?”
“Nope. They didn’t want money. They went off grumbling. They wanted The Ghost’s scalp, they said, not the price of it.”
“I don’t blame ‘em. But get back to Jordan. I’ll bet he wasn’t talking for any good!”
“Well, he seemed to wonder how I happened to of made that much money out of the traps. So I told him that part of the money was yours. You generally had plenty, and didn’t mind if I spent it like it was my own.”
“No more do I, lad,” said Pete Reeve with a sudden warmth. “But go on.”
“He seemed surprised to find out you made so much money. Wanted to know how you made it.”
“And you told him it was by prospecting - finding gold claims and selling ‘em quick? You told him that?” asked Pete Reeve eagerly.
Bull Hunter flushed and hesitated. “Partner,” he said slowly, “I’ve heard you talk about prospecting and mines. But I’ve never seen you go out with a hammer and a pick and powder and a drill in your pack. I’ve never seen you bring home no specimens. I’ve never seen you with a gent who was going to buy one of your claims. I’ve never seen you with a single raw nugget. So how could I tell him that you make a living out of mining?”
“Ain’t my word good enough for you?” asked Pete coldly, but the frown which he summoned very patently covered a weakness which he felt to be in his position. He did not wait for the answer to this direct question but ran on: “What did you tell him, Bull?”
“II told him I didn’t know.”
Pete Reeve swore. Then he rose and walked quickly back and forth through the cabin with a light, soundless step. Suddenly he whirled on Bull Hunter.
“They’s times, Bull, when I think you ain’t got any sense!”
The big man nodded. “I’m not very bright,” he he said humbly.
At that Pete Reeve’s keen eyes softened. “I don’t mean it that way. Forgive me, Bull. But why didn’t you tell Jordan my story, or make up one of your own just as good?”
“Pete, I ain’t got a very good imagination. Besides” He paused, miserably. “Pete, Jordan is plumb wrought up about you. He told me to tell you a lot of queer things.”
“Tell them!”
“Something about a lot of people around here being interested in you and your ways and watching you close. Also, he wanted me to tell you that some folks had found the air around here plumb bad for them and had moved away to other parts.”
Pete Reeve came to his feet and stamped. “Did he say that?”
“Don’t get riled up. What’s he driving at?”
Pete began to walk the floor once more. At length he faced Bull again in his sudden way.
“Bull, what do you think I do when I’m off and away from the cabin for these long spells?”
“I dunno, Pete,” said the big man.
“What?”
“I haven’t thought,” said Bull quietly. “I’ve worried a pile about those trips of yours, but I haven’t dared think.”
“Well,” cried Pete Reeve, “they were lies that I’ve told you. Want to know the straight of what I am? Want to know it?”
He thrust the words at Bull with his meager arm extended.
“It’s your business,” said Bull faintly. “Not mine!” Then he shrugged his shoulders and sat straighter. “But, we being partners, everything that’s your business is my business, too. Go ahead and tell me, Pete.”
“I can tell you short and sweet. I’ve lived the way The Ghost there has lived - by taking the things that belong to other men!”
Bull stood up slowly, an enormous, imposing figure in the shadows.
“I’ve been a man-killer, Bull,” continued the shrill-voiced little man in a frenzy of grief and self-accusation such as comes to every one now and then, “just the way The Ghost has been a cattle-killer. And I’ve robbed and stolen, and fought other men for money I didn’t have no right to. That’s the truth about me, and if it was ever known they could hang me ten times for what I’ve done. There’s the truth. And now get out and leave me. Go your way, and I’ll go mine!”
He had expected an outburst of emotion; the calm of the big man stunned him.
“Why, Pete, if it’s that way, it looks to me like you had more need of me than ever.”
Pete Reeve gasped and choked. “You mean that, Bull?” he whispered. “You mean that?”
“You and me being partners,” said Bull slowly, “of course I mean it.”
Chapter IX
Jordan’s Scheme
Bill Jordan was an impatient man by nature and by training. He had warned the entire countryside to be on the watch for Pete Reeve, and he had arranged to call up a posse at a moment’s notice. But after he had alarmed the entire widespread community, word came that Pete Reeve was no longer going on the strange journeys, but had settled down to the peaceful life of a trapper, in company with big Charlie Hunter. Men began to say that Bill Jordan had gone off half-cocked on this topic of Pete Reeve’s lawlessness.
But Bill Jordan was certain he was right. He decided that either his warning had frightened Reeve into a temporary quiet, or else the little man had made so much money in his recent raids that he had determined to settle down, for the time being at least. All of Bill’s preparedness went for nothing.
This was intensely irritating. It put him in the position of a false prophet, a role for which he had no liking. He determined finally that if Pete Reeve would not fall into the way of temptation he, Bill Jordan, would send the temptation to wait on Pete Reeve. After all, it was a simple plan, worked on the theory that animals which cannot be shot in broad daylight may often be trapped by night. Bill Jordan had arranged for the trap, and now he set about finding bait for it.
Here accident played into his hand, for, on a trip to Willowville, interesting tidings were told him by the sheriff. No less a person than Bud Fuller, suspected of many crimes and distinctly not wanted in most parts of the mountains, had felt the urge toward a peaceful life and had approached the sheriff, offering to give bond for peaceful and law-abiding conduct if the sheriff, on the other hand, would guarantee his support. For Bud Fuller had defied the law and law-abiding citizens so long that he now needed protection. This the sheriff hesitated to extend to him.