"Lawson, you made me what I am," continued Longstreth. "Ibacked you--shielded you. YOU'RE Cheseldine--if the truth is told! Now it's ended. I quit you. I'm done!"Their gray passion-corded faces were still as stones.
"GENTLEMEN!" Duane called in far-reaching voice as he stepped out. "YOU'RE BOTH DONE!"They wheeled to confront Duane.
"Don't move! Not a muscle! Not a finger!" he warned.
Longstreth read what Lawson had not the mind to read. His face turned from gray to ashen.
"What d'ye mean?" yelled Lawson, fiercely, shrilly. It was not in him to obey a command, to see impending death.
All quivering and strung, yet with perfect control, Duane raised his left hand to turn back a lapel of his open vest. The silver star flashed brightly.
Lawson howled like a dog. With barbarous and insane fury, with sheer impotent folly, he swept a clawing hand for his gun.
Duane's shot broke his action.
Before Lawson ever tottered, before he loosed the gun, Longstreth leaped behind him, clasped him with left arm, quick as lightning jerked the gun from both clutching fingers and sheath. Longstreth protected himself with the body of the dead man. Duane saw red flashes, puffs of smoke; he heard quick reports. Something stung his left arm. Then a blow like wind, light of sound yet shocking in impact, struck him, staggered him. The hot rend of lead followed the blow. Duane's heart seemed to explode, yet his mind kept extraordinarily clear and rapid.
Duane heard Longstreth work the action of Lawson's gun. He heard the hammer click, fall upon empty shells. Longstreth had used up all the loads in Lawson's gun. He cursed as a man cursed at defeat. Duane waited, cool and sure now. Longstreth tried to lift the dead man, to edge him closer toward the table where his own gun lay. But, considering the peril of exposing himself, he found the task beyond him. He bent peering at Duane under Lawson's arm, which flopped out from his side.
Longstreth's eyes were the eyes of a man who meant to kill.
There was never any mistaking the strange and terrible light of eyes like those. More than once Duane had a chance to aim at them, at the top of Longstreth's head, at a strip of his side.
Longstreth flung Lawson's body off. But even as it dropped, before Longstreth could leap, as he surely intended, for the gun, Duane covered him, called piercingly to him:
"Don't jump for the gun! Don't! I'll kill you! Sure as God I'll kill you!"Longstreth stood perhaps ten feet from the table where his gun lay Duane saw him calculating chances. He was game. He had the courage that forced Duane to respect him. Duane just saw him measure the distance to that gun. He was magnificent. He meant to do it. Duane would have to kill him.
"Longstreth, listen," cried Duane, swiftly. "The game's up.
You're done. But think of your daughter! I'll spare your life--I'll try to get you ******* on one condition. For her sake! I've got you nailed--all the proofs. There lies Lawson.
You're alone. I've Morton and men to my aid. Give up.
Surrender. Consent to demands, and I'll spare you. Maybe I can persuade MacNelly to let you go free back to your old country.
It's for Ray's sake! Her life, perhaps her happiness, can be saved! Hurry, man! Your answer!""Suppose I refuse?" he queried, with a dark and terrible earnestness.
"Then I'll kill you in your tracks! You can't move a hand! Your word or death! Hurry, Longstreth! Be a man! For her sake!
Quick! Another second now--I'll kill you!"
"All right, Buck Duane, I give my word," he said, and deliberately walked to the chair and fell into it.
