reaching over and shaking hands with me and saying ‘yes’!”
He leaned forward. The twinkle was gone from his eyes and he extended his hand to Hardy. The latter reached out with an impulsive gesture, wrung the proffered hand, and then slipping back into his chair broke into hysterical laughter.
“The real laugh,” said Calder, watching his man narrowly, “will be on the long riders.”
“Tex,” said the agent. “I guess you have the dope. I won’t say anything except that I’m glad as hell to be out of the rotten business at last. Once started I couldn’t stop. I did one ‘favour’ for these devils, and after that they had me in their power. I haven’t slept for months as I’m going to sleep tonight!”
He wiped his face with an agitated hand.
“A week ago,” he went on, “I knew you were detailed on this work. I’ve been sweating ever since. Now that you’ve come—why, I’m glad of it!”
A faint sneer touched Calder’s mouth and was gone.
“You’re a wise man,” he said. “Have you seen much of Jim Silent lately?”
Hardy hesitated. The rôle of informer was new.
“Not directly.”
Calder nodded.
“Now put me right if I go off the track. The way I understand it, Jim Silent has about twenty gun fighters and long riders working in gangs under him and combining for big jobs.”
“That’s about it.”
“The inside circle consists of Silent; Lee Haines, a man who went wrong because the law did him wrong; Hal Purvis, a cunning devil; and Bill Kilduff, a born fighter who loves blood for its own sake.”
“Right.”
“Here’s something more. For Jim Silent, dead or alive, the government will pay ten thousand dollars. For each of the other three it pays five thousand. The notices aren’t out yet, but they will be in a few days. Hardy, if you help me bag these men, you’ll get fifty per cent of the profits. Are you on?”
The hesitancy of Hardy changed to downright enthusiasm.
“Easy money, Tex. I’m your man, hand and glove.”
“Don’t get optimistic. This game isn’t played yet, and unless I make the biggest mistake of my life we’ll be guessing again before we land Silent. I’ve trailed some fast gunmen in my day, and I have an idea that Silent will be the hardest of the lot; but if you play your end of the game we may land him. I have a tip that he’s lying out in the country near Elkhead. I’m riding out alone to get track of him. As I go out I’ll tell my men that you’re O.K. for this business.”
He hesitated a moment with his hand on the door knob.
“Just one thing more, Hardy. I heard a queer tale this morning about a fight in a saloon run by a man named Morgan. Do you know anything about it?”
“No.”
“I was told of a fellow who chipped four dollars thrown into the air at twenty yards.”
“That’s a lie.”
“The man who talked to me had a nicked dollar to prove his yarn.”
“The devil he did!”
“And after the shooting this chap got into a fight with a tall man twice his size and fairly mopped up the floor with him. They say it wasn’t a nice thing to watch. He is a frail man, but when the fight started he turned into a tiger.”
“Wish I’d seen it.”
“The tall man tallies to a hair with my description of Silent.”
“You’re wrong. I know what Silent can do with his hands. No one could beat him up. What’s the name of the other?”
“Barry. Whistling Dan Barry.”
Calder hesitated.
“Right or wrong, I’d like to have this Barry with me. So long.”
He was gone as he had come, with a nod and a flash of the keen, black eyes. Lee Hardy stared at the door for some moments, and then went outside. The warm light of the sun had never been more welcome to him. Under that cheering influence he began to feel that with Tex Calder behind him he could safely defy the world.
His confidence received a shock that afternoon when a heavy step crossed the outside room, and his door opening without a preliminary knock, he looked up into the solemn eyes of Jim Silent. The outlaw shook his head when Hardy offered him a chair.
“What’s the main idea of them two new men out in your front room, Lee?” he asked.
“Two cowpunchers that was down on their luck. I got to stand in with the boys now and then.”
“I s’pose so. Shorty Rhinehart in here to see you, Lee?”
“Yep.”
“You told him that the town was gettin’ pretty hot.”
“It is.”
“You said you had no dope on when that delayed shipment was comin’ through?”
Hardy made lightning calculations. A half truth would be the best way out.
“I’ve just got the word you want. It come this morning.”
Silent’s expression changed and he leaned a little closer.
“It’s the nineteenth. Train number 89. Savvy? Seven o’clock at Elkhead!”
“How much? Same bunch of coin?”
“Fifty thousand!”
“That’s ten more.”
“Yep. A new shipment rolled in with the old one. No objections?”
Silent grinned.
“Any other news, Lee?”
“Shorty told you about Tex Calder?”
“He did. Seen him around here?”
The slightest fraction of a second in hesitation.
“No.”
“Was that the straight dope you give Shorty?”
“Straighter’n hell. They’re beginnin’ to talk, but I guess I was jest sort of panicky when I talked with Shorty.”
“This Tex Calder——”
“What about him?” This with a trace of suspicion.
“He’s got a long record.”
“So’ve you, Jim.”
Once more that wolflike grin which had no mirth.
“So long, Lee. I’ll be on the job. Lay to that.”
He turned towards the door. Hardy followed him. A moment more, in a single word, and the job would be done. Five thousand dollars for a single word! It warmed the very heart of Lee Hardy.
Silent, as he moved away, seemed singularly thoughtful. He hesitated a moment with bowed head at the door—then whirled and shoved a six-gun under the nose of Hardy. The latter leaped back with his arms thrust above his head, straining at his hands to get them higher.
“My God, Jim!”
“You’re a low-down, lyin’ hound!”
Hardy’s tongue clove to the roof of his mouth.
“Damn you, d’you hear me?”
“Yes! For God’s sake, Jim, don’t shoot!”
“Your life ain’t worth a dime!”
“Give me one more chance an’ I’ll play