Fiction

The Flaming Jewel

Robert Chambers

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II

Clinch had not taken a dozen strides before Hal Smith loomed up ahead in
the rosy dusk, driving in Leverett before him.

An exclamation of fierce exultation burst from Clinch's thin lips as he
flung out one arm, indicating Smith and his clinking prisoner:

"Who was that gol-dinged catamount that suspicioned Hal?  I wa'nt
worried none, neither.  Has a gent.  Mebbe he sticks up folks, too, but
he's a gent.  And gents is honest or they ain't gents."

Smith came up at his easy, tireless gait, hustling Leverett along with
prods from gun-butt or muzzle, as came handiest.

The prisoner turned a ghastly visage on Clinch, who ignored him.

"Got my packet, Hal?" he demanded.

Smith poked Leverett with his rifle: "Tune up," he said; "tell Clinch
your story."

As a caged rat looks death in the face, his ratty wits working like
lightning and every atom of cunning and ferocity alert for attack or
escape, so the little, mean eyes of Earl Leverett became fixed on Clinch
like two immobile and glassy beats of jet.

"G'wan," said Clinch softly, "spit it out."

"Jake done it," muttered Leverett, thickly.

"Done what?"

"Stole that there packet o' yourn -- whatever there was into it."

"Who put him up to it?"

"A fella called Quintana."

"What was there in it for Jake?" inquired Clinch pleasantly.

"Ten thousand."

"How about you?"

"I told 'em I wouldn't touch it.  Then they pulled their guns on me, and
I was scared to squeal."

"So that was the way?" asked Clinch in his even, reassuring voice.

Leverett's eyes travelled stealthily around the circle of men, then
reverted to Clinch.

"I dassn't touch it," he said, "but I dassn't squeal. ... I as huntin'
onto Drowned Valley when Jake meets up with me."

"`I got the packet,' he sez, `and I'm a-going to double criss-cross
Quintana, I am, and beat it.  Don't you wish you was whacks with me?'

"`No,' sez I, `honesty is my policy, no matter what they tell about me.
S'help me God, I ain't never robbed no trap and I ain't no skin thief,
whatever lies folks tell.  All I ever done was run a little hootch,
same's everybody.'"

He licked his lips furtively, his cold, bright eyes fastened on Clinch.

"G'wan Earl," nodded the latter, "heave her up."

"That's all.  I sez, `Good-bye, Jake.  An' if you heed me warning',
ill-gotten gains ain't a-going to prosper nobody.'  That's what I said
to Jake Kloon, the last solemn words I spoke to that there man now in
his bloody grave----"

"Hey?" demanded Clinch.

"That's where Jake is," repeated Leverett.  "Why, so help me, I wa'nt
gone ten yards when, bang! goes a gun, and I see this here Quintana come
outen the busy, I do, and walk up to Jake and frisk him and Jake still
a-kickin' the moss to slivers.  Yessir, that's what I seen."

"G'wan."

"Yessir. ... 'N'then Quintana he shoved Jake into a sink-hole.  Thaswot
I seen with my own two eyes.  Yessir.  'N'then Quintana he run off, 'n'I
jest set down in the trail, I did; 'n'then Hal come up and acted like I
had stole your packet, he did; 'n'then I told him what Quintana done.
'N'Hal, he takes after Quintana, but I don't guess he meets up with him,
for he come back and ketched holt o' me, 'n'he druv me in like I was a
caaf, he did.  'N'here I be."

The dusk in the forest had deepened so that the men's faces had become
mere blotches of grey.

Smith said to Clinch: "That's his story, Mike.  But I preferred he
should tell it to you himself, so I brought him along. ... Did you drive
Star Peak?"

"There wa'nt nothin' onto it," said Clinch very softly.  Then, of a
sudden, his shadowy visage became contorted and he jerked up his rifle
and threw a cartridge into the magazine.

"You dirty louse!" he roared at Leverett, "you was into this, too,
a-robbin' my little Eve----"

"Run!" yelled somebody, giving Leverett a violent shove into the woods.

In the darkness and confusion, Clinch shouldered his way out of the
circle and fired at the crackling noise that marked Leverett's course,
-- fired again, lower, and again as a distant crash revealed the
frenzied flight of the trap-robber.  After he had fired a fourth shot,
somebody struck up his rifle.

"Aw," said Jim Hastings, "that ain't no good.  You act up like a kid,
Mike.  'Tain't so far to Ghost Lake, n'them Troopers might hear you."

After a silence, Clinch spoke, his voice heavy with reaction:

"Into that there packet is my little girl's dower.  It's all I got to
give her.  It's all she's got to make her a lady.  I'll kill any man
that robs her or that helps rob her.  'N'that's that."

"Are you going on after Quintana?" asked Smith.

"I am.  'N'these fellas are a-goin with me.  N' I want you should go
back to my Dump and look after my girlie while I'm gone."

"How long are you going to be away?"

"I dunno."

There was a silence.  Then,

"All right," said Smith, briefly.  He added: "Look out for sink-holes,
Mike."

Clinch tossed his heavy rifle to his shoulder: "Let's go," he said in
his pleasant, misleading way, "-- and I'll shoot the guts outa any fella
that don't show up at roll call."

* * * * *
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The Complete Plays of Gilbert and Sullivan
W.S. Gilbert

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