“I’m not afraid of him,” replied Dunkin. “You say he’s pretty good with a gun, but you think everything he does is pretty good. Well, I’ll give him a try. What you say about Bull Hunter don’t count.”
“Maybe not,” assented the withered little man. “He’s the best friend I’ve got, the best friend any man could have. He’d give his life for me. That’s why I want you to run for it, Dunkin. If you stay, I got to stay with you and face my old partner with a gun. If you run, I’ll run with you and show you a way to get off, for a while, anyway.”
“For a while? You talk like this gent Hunter was sure to get me.”
“He is,” answered Reeve with the same disconcerting calm. “In spite of you and in spite of me he’ll probably get you, if it takes him ten years for the job. Dunkin, take another think and put a saddle on your hoss and go.”
There was something so convincing in Reeve’s manner of speaking that Dunkin actually started across the veranda, but he halted after a few steps and turned back. “I’ll see him hung first,” he declared at length. “Here we are in the only part of the range where you ain’t known, and where we can work with a free hand. I won’t be turned out by any thick-head like Hunter. Reeve, we’re going to stick, that’s final. If you want to give me a hand agin’ this gent, I’ll say pretty frank that I’ll be glad to have you. If you don’t want to help, I’ll stay and face him alone.”
Reeve made a gesture of surrender. “I’ve told you what I’ll do already,” he said, “and I stick by that. But I’d rather be dead myself than shoot a bullet at Hunter!”
He had hardly made up his mind when a boy, riding bareback on a fleet pony, dashed down the street and ran to the veranda with a scared face. “They’s a gent coming with a wolf!” he called to them. “A gent with an honest-injun loafer wolf trotting along in front of him.”
It brought Pete Reeve and Dunkin to their feet.
“He’s here,” whispered Dunkin. “Are you with me, Pete?”
“I’m with you. But the wolf? Has The Ghost come back to him?”
“Must be, becauseyes, that’s The Ghost!”
Around the bend of the single street glided the gray form of the big lobo. He paused with head erect, the broad wistful face turning inquiringly to either side. Then, from behind, came the master on the tall black stallion, and The Ghost moved on. The strange little procession brought people to windows and doors, staring in amazement tinged with fear. More than one man reached for his gun at the sight of the wolf dog; and just across the street from the hotel, a woman scolded her children hastily back into the house.
Straight to the veranda of the hotel came The Ghost, reared and placed his forepaws on the edge of the porch and stared long and earnestly into the face of Dunkin. It was as though he had picked out by foreknowledge the enemy of his master, though doubtless Bull Hunter had taught him the scent of the enemy. Then the great animal slipped down and returned like a silent shadow to his master.
By this time Hunter had seen them. He halted his horse and turned in the saddle toward them.
“Now,” said Dunkin, his whole body trembling with nervous anxiety, “now I’ll make my play!”
“If you do, it’s murder,” said Reeve. “Bull Hunter won’t make a gun play in this town full of people, and he don’t expect you to try. Look! He’s waving to us. If he meant quick action, d’you think he’d take his hand that far away from his gun? Never in the world.”
Bull shouted a cheery greeting to them and then swung out of the saddle and strode toward them. If he had looked huge in the saddle, he seemed more mountainous than ever, walking on foot. Diablo followed at his heels like a dog.
Pete Reeve ran to meet him and wrung his hands. He looked like a midget before the giant, yet if any man of the mountain desert had been asked to pick the more formidable of the two, he would have picked the midget without a moment’s hesitation, for at this time in his career, Bull Hunter was known to be huge, but very little else was widely known about him; while the fame of Pete Reeve had spread far and wide.
They walked on together toward the veranda, laughing happily. At the veranda they met Dunkin, and the laughter stopped.
“I sent you a letter,” said Bull Hunter mildly, “asking you to come to meet me in Tuckertown. But I guess the letter didn’t come, Dunkin.”
“It come, right enough,” answered Dunkin. “And I’m ready to meet you anywhere. The only reason I didn’t come was because you ain’t worth that much trouble, Bull. Besides, the letter just got here. It must have been held up. For the rest, I’ve hated the sight of you for a long time, and I’m glad we’re going to have it out now. Mighty glad!”
“I’m not,” answered Bull. “I’ve never liked you, Dunkin, but I’ve never hated you.”
“Only enough to want to pump me full of lead, eh?” asked the robber.
“Lead? Shooting?” asked Bull in mild surprise. “Why, man, I’m not going to kill or try to kill you.”
“You ain’t? Then what is it that you aim to try to do with me?”
“Take you alive and turn you over to the law. That’s my job.”
It brought a gasp from both Reeve and Dunkin.
“Son,” said Dunkin hotly, “you got one chance in three of dropping me with a bullet in a fair fight; but you nor nobody else has got a chance in a million of taking me alive!”
“Maybe I ain’t,” answered Bull mildly, “but I’ll die trying it.”
“And while you’re trying,” went on Dunkin coldly, “remember that you got two on your hands, not one. When you get me you got to get Pete Reeve first.”
It was a thunderbolt to Bull Hunter. He made a gesture like a blind man toward the little gun fighter.
“Pete,” he exclaimed, “are you with him in this?”
Pete Reeve dropped his head. “It’s an old law,” he said bitterly, “and it always has to work. I’m on the trail with Dunkin, Bull. In a month or two I may be away from him, and then you’re free to tackle him alone. But while I’m with him, my grub is his grub and my hoss is his hoss and my gun is his gun. That’s the way it works, and that’s the way it’s always got to work, or else they’ll be no more living in the West. I guess that’s the straight of it.”
“That may be the way with you,” said Bull Hunter, “but no matter where I was I’d never lift a hand agin’ you. Not for love or money, Pete. It changes things a good deal.” He went a half step closer to Dunkin. “There’s one thing new I got to tell you, Dunkin. I started out wanting just to take you alive. I’m beginning to want to kill you, and I’m beginning to think I will.”
His broad forehead wrinkled with thought. “I’d forgive any man a lot, but never the one that turned Pete Reeve agin’ me. Dunkin, watch yourself. I’m going to foller you and Pete, when you leave town. I’m going to watch my chance. I’ll wait maybe a year, but I’ll get you away from Pete and tie you like a bale of hay and take you to town to the sheriff. Keep that in your head, my friend!”
Dunkin attempted to sneer, but his lips trembled beyond control. He tried to laugh, but the sound dried up in his throat. Then Bull Hunter turned on his heel and strode away, the thick dust of the street squirting up like steam from the heavy stamping of his feet.
Chapter XIX
Loss and Gain
That night after supper the spirits of Dunkin rose perceptibly. “It’s all bluff, Pete,” he said to his companion, as he lighted a cigarette after the big tin cup of coffee that finished his meal. “If Hunter meant business he’d have stayed right here and watched us till we left town. But he’s disappeared. It’s all bluff. When he seen that you were with me he lost his nerve.”