Under His Shirt/Chapter 9

URING the night the prisoner stirred and suddenly sat up in his bed. It availed him little to sit up, however, for his wrists were chained together, and one wrist was fastened in turn to one of the posts of the iron bed. They had taken no chance that he might escape, as though there could be strength in his fever-stricken, tormented body to make even the effort!

Now he listened with starting eyes to a faint sound at the door to his room. Could it be that the incarnate devils were coming back? Could it be that Red Stanton, furious because he had not been permitted by the rancher to torture his victim in the evening again, as he had tortured him during the day, was now coming back to claim the helpless man for fresh brutalities? There were many ways of inflicting the most exquisite tortures. One might light a match and hold it close to the flesh of a man who was so bound that he could not move.

Darkness swam before the eyes of the prisoner at the very thought. Yes, he was weak, he was very weak, and his nerves jumped and twitched. He could not endure torture again. He would break down. The secrets would tumble from his lips before he knew it.

Oh, it was true! Some one was opening the door to the room in which he lay. Not that he could see anything, no matter how he strained his eyes, but a strange sixth sense made him aware that they were close to him. Now the door closed with the softest of clicks; and now some one was stealing closer to him. Oh, horror of horrors! Heaven only grant that he might die like a man rather than shame himself! If only he could see the door by the light of the day, but this stifling blackness of the night He set his teeth and forced away the faintness. His mind was clearing. Presently he heard a whisper from the darkness.

"Partner, there ain't nothing for you to be afraid of. Keep your nerve plumb steady!"

A delirious joy ran through the weak body of the victim. It seemed that he could not stand this sudden thrill of hope which rushed through him.

"Who is it?" he gasped. "Joe Daly, it ain't you yourself?" There was a little silence, as he turned cold again. Could it be that this was only a trap to trick him into admitting that he knew Daly?

"I ain't Daly," said the whisperer in the blackness, "but I'm one that'll do you no harm. Will you believe that?"

"Yes! But who are you?"

"I'm the gent that they call Pete."

The prisoner sank back on the bed with the faintest of groans. He remembered, now. What could be either feared or hoped for at the hands of such a craven?

"I've come up here to have a talk," went on Pete. "Partner, I want to find out who wore this here breastplate that they got out of your saddlebag."

"What good would it do me to tell you, even if I knowed?" asked the prisoner.

"I got a key to unlock these here locks that are holding you. I swiped it just now from Red Stanton"

"That devil—I'll tear the heart out of him if I live to get a square chance at him."

"You'll get that chance if you talk to me straight."

"About this here piece of steel?"

"Yes, I want to know who wore it."

"What could that mean to you?"

"I'm just curious."

"Well, I'll tell you. Charlie Burnet got this thing to keep for"

"That's a lie," said Pete Burnside. "Charlie Burnet ain't the gent that used to wear it."

"If you know, what are you asking me for? And even if I should tell you, how can I be sure that you'll be able to turn me loose?"

"You got my word of honor, and something'll tell you that I mean what I say!"

"How could it mean anything to you to know who used to wear this?"

"It means more to me than a million-dollar gold mine! I been lying awake thinking about it!"

"The devil you have! Well, it's sure queer to me what makes you so interested in it, but I'll tell you the fact and no kidding. Joe Daly himself has been wearing this right around his neck and under his shirt."

"Thank the Lord," broke in Pete Burnside. "Thank the Lord I know that now!"

"And your promise" cut in the prisoner.

"I'll keep that!"

Instantly the key dropped into the first padlock, and it clicked open. In another moment the prisoner stood on his feet.

"And now Red Stanton!" he snarled softly through the darkness.

"What?" asked Pete Burnside.

"I'm going to get that hound and carve the heart out of him!"

"Wait till you got daylight, and he's awake."

"Did he give me any fair chance when he caught me? No, he mobbed me, and then he tortured me."

His voice choked away to nothing, as he recalled the horror of that long pain.

"You'll start riding now with me," said Burnside.

"You ain't got any call to love him!" exclaimed the man of the gang. "Ain't I seen him talk to you like you was a dog? Ain't I seen him knock you down with a chair?"

"You've seen that," said Pete Burnside.

And suddenly he was laughing, but the sound of his laughter made the flesh of the rustler creep. "I'll have a little accounting with him for all that," said Pete, "but I got another job now."

"What's that?"

"I got to ride up to see Joe Daly."

"Eh?"

"I mean it. You and me got to ride up to see him."

"I'll never show you the way, Pete!"

"Let's get outside, and we'll talk more about it."

He led the way to the window. It was ridiculously easy to get down, Pete tied one end of a blanket around a nail, and then the rustler climbed down. He had scarcely reached the ground, when Pete landed beside him.

"Now we'll get our hosses and start," said Pete, and he led the way to the corral behind the barns.

They secured their mounts. Pete did the roping and then the saddling, for the whole right side of the rustler, including muscles which must be strained if he moved his arm, was terribly inflamed from the manner in which that burning steel had been thrust against his flesh. Nevertheless he was able to climb into his saddle. He fastened his teeth to keep back a groan; then he asked of his companion: "You got to show me a reason why you should be brought up to see Joe Daly. Are you wanting to join his gang?"

"Well, tell me man to man, ain't he got a need for new hands?"

"He sure has. There's three gone that ain't going to come back. And he needs a lot more'n five to do his business."

"Well," said Pete, "he'll be mighty interested to see me."

The other coughed.

"How come you to let Red Stanton walk over you that way, partner?" he asked in a cold voice.

"I had to play a part. I've had to keep after it for month after month till I been sick"—his voice raised a little—"but I'm sure done now. I'm through with that game, and I'm ready for something new."

"I dunno that I understand," growled the rustler, his horror and contempt growing, as he recalled the scene he had witnessed in the Peters house between Stanton and Pete.

"What you understand don't matter a lot," returned Pete. "What amounts to something is that Joe will understand when I meet up with him."

The rustler turned in his saddle and stared at his companion. There was no possible doubt that this was not the same man who had been abused by Red Stanton in the Peters house. His flesh might not have altered, but there was a new and braver spirit in him. The rustler drew his breath in wonder. If ever a man had been changed, this was one.

"Look here," he said. "Let's talk straight. You want me to show you the way up to where Joe Daly is hanging out. Now, how can I tell that you ain't going to"

"To what?" asked Pete. "D'you think that maybe I'll clean up Joe and his whole gang?"

The rustler laughed.

"Oh, that sure sounds foolish," he chuckled. "But"

"What d'you think I would do then?"

Again the rustler pondered for a time.

"You've turned me loose," he said at last. "It sure looks like you were a friend of Joe's. I'll take the chance. Come along, partner!"

They started out at a rocking canter, the rustler twisting in his saddle so that the torment of his injured side might be lessened. So they went on until they came to a steeper grade, where it was necessary to bring the horses back to a walk.

"I'd like to know one thing," said the rustler.

"Fire away."

"What did it mean to you to know that that breastplate belonged to Joe Daly?"

Pete was silent for a moment, then he answered: "I'll tell you the straight of it, partner. I been up here in the mountains trying to find out something that Joe would be as much interested in as I am. And it wasn't till I heard about him owning that breastplate that I knew. D'you see?"

"Something important, eh?"

"Sure it is, but if you look at it another way you might say that it's nothing but a big joke!" And, as the humor of it seemed to strike him, he broke out into loud and ringing laughter.