It rose sharply up to a rim against the sky, and as I moved to its foot, rocks crunched under my feet. It was what we had been looking for… a steep slope of rocks broken and shattered by changing heat and cold. A moment longer I waited and then, as I started downward, my ears caught a faint sound.
Quickly I turned and looked along the base of the talus slope. I could see someone walking toward me, a tall man. Instinctively I stepped back to more level ground and better footing.
He came on along, walking easily and almost without sound. There was no question in my mind as to who he was, yet I waited, curious what the man would do, and aware of our camp, just below.
“Greetings, my friend! I had a feeling only one man would be up here at night. It takes a man with a bit of the poet in him to come to such a place when he could be sleeping. Well, I’m glad you came. It’s time we had a talk away from those others.” “They’re my friends,” I said, somewhat stiffly.
He waved that away. “Of course. We all have friends. What they mean to us depends on how we use them. I think yours have ceased to have value.” “My viewpoint is somewhat different.” “Ah? Of course. You’d be a romantic sort or you’d not have come west. And a bit of a damned fool, if you don’t mind my saying so.
You’ve nothing to gain out here.
“The sea… now that’s another thing. When this is over, I’m going to get the handsomest ship on the water, and I’ll round up some of my old crew and we’ll show the rascals what piracy really is.” “If you ever hope to do that,” I suggested calmly, “it would be wise to start now.” He laughed, turning his eyes to me. “Well now! Our Scholar threatens? Maybe there’s something there, after all.” He gestured toward a flat rock. “Sit down, man. We need to talk. You and I.
we have brains. That lot down there smell of the hides they take and of the life they live.
They’re nothing. Now you and me, that’s something else. The world is ready for those strong enough to take it… and I don’t want all of it, just freedom to do what I damned well please with a piece of it. All would be too much trouble.” He had seated himself on another rock. He leaned toward me. “I like you, Scholar. Let’s go partners. If you want the girl… take her. I don’t want any one woman.
Attachments are a bloody bad business.
Take them and be rid of them, and off to another port in the morning.
“You and me… we could have that treasure between us.
Oh, it’s there! I know it’s there! And not far from where we sit, either. What do you say? Throw in with me. You take the girl and one-third. I take one-third and we use the remaining third for expenses… for a ship.
“There’s a schooner in New Orleans that can shake off anything on the water. We can take a couple of prizes, then off for the Indian Ocean.
It’s the best place, believe me.
“Can you navigate? You can? Fine! That will take some burden off my shoulders. I’m a dead-reckoning man myself, and there’re times when it’s not good enough.” He took a Cuban cheroot from his pocket and lighted it. “Look… I’ve twenty-odd men back there, and a tough lot they are. They can take that bunch of yours and chop them like mincemeat… but I happen to know there’s a river that heads not far from here, deep enough to float a canoe. We’ll leave the lot of them, take the loot, and float down to New Orleans.
“It’s as simple as that. You know where the loot is. I have the canoe hidden. We can be two days gone before they realize and they’ll waste themselves hunting for sign… the river leaves none.” I chuckled. “And the one man alive when the canoe reaches New Orleans has it all?
Am I right?” He laughed. “There! I knew you were my kind of man. No, none of that. You spoke of friends awhile back. A man may not need friends but he needs companions, and the devil of it is a man doesn’t find many men who have brains, not many who appreciate the arts, music, books, ideas … a man needs somebody to talk to.
“No, we’ll go all the way together. No throat cutting in the night, no double cross. And after we get to sea, we’ll go halves on everything.” I got to my feet. “No, Mr. Falvey.
I’ll have nothing to do with it. My advice is for you to turn about and take your men out of here. I doubt if there’s a treasure, and if there is, we don’t know where it is. Nor does your niece.
“I’ll admit we thought there was, but her directions turned out to be flimsy, indeed.
Why, there’re fifty places within a dozen miles of here that answer to her information! We leave as soon as our wounded man is able to travel.” The smile had gone from his face. He shrugged.
“Well, it was worth a try. I half expected you’d be a damned fool.” He held out his hand to me, smiling. “No hard feelings?” Instinctively, my hand went out. He gripped mine hard. “All right, men, take him!” I jerked hard on my hand, but Falvey had uncommon strength and he hung on. Instantly, hearing boots grate on the rocks, I threw myself into hm. My move was unexpected and Falvey staggered, fought for his balance, but when I threw my weight down slope, he let go. I went flying, my left hand gripping my rifle, and rolled and tumbled down the slope into the darkness.
Two shots rang out, then a third. At least one bullet clipped leaves near me.
Falvey, who had fallen to his knees, was getting up, swearing.
I started to move, a branch cracked under my hand, and a shot clipped an aspen trunk close to me and spat bark in my face.
Yet I lunged to my feet and ran into the aspen, weaving in and out among the trunks.
Another shot was fired, but there was small chance of hitting me among the aspen. I ran on, heedless of sound, yet actually making little on the damp leaves. On my left was a dark clump of spruce… the camp should be there.
I plunged into the open, looking quickly around.
Nothing! Somehow I had lost my way among the trees, and– But no.
The fire was there. The dark coals smoked slightly, and there was a tinge of red where one still glowed.
Gone… they were gone.
I was alone.
CHAPTER 15
Alone… they were gone. But where? And for how long?
My own gear was gone too. Everything had been taken but the fire. were they captives? Or hearing the shooting, had they simply fled, imagining me dead, or if not dead, able to survive and find them.
Survive… that was the first thing, and to survive I must move.
An instant I held perfectly still, listening.
Every sense put out its feeler, the wind, the stirring of brush. Carefully I eased back from the fire’s faint glow, into the deeper shadow of the spruce. I could see nothing there, but neither could they.
Where to go? Higher there was no cover. Downhill toward water and easier travel was almost instinctive and therefore to be avoided. Along the mountain’s face then, toward the north.
The spruce trees stood so close their boughs touched. Crouching I went under some, between others.
My mind held the thought like a ghost… move like a ghost… and I did just that.
The thin moccasins sensed every branch, every thing under my feet. I felt my way swiftly along.
Get away first, far away, survive first, and then find my friends and help them if they needed help. A dead Ronan Chantry was of no use to anyone but buzzards and coyotes. Along the face of the mountain. It was steep, but not too steep for travel. Here and there it was suddenly steeper, and glancing up, I could see the still peaks and shoulders of the mountain, majestic in the moonlight. I moved again, ran lightly for thirty yards, then paused.
The night was without sound. I waited, stilling my breathing, listening. Nothing.
Again I moved, more carefully now, angling slightly upslope. I wanted to see what lay above me in the open. If they were traveling there, they could pass me, move ahead, then cut downslope and I would be surrounded.
I saw nothing. Living in the wilderness had tuned my ears, made my senses more keen. I was more like the boy I had been than the student of later years. Now I was back, and in every fiber of my being I knew, this was my home, this was where I belonged.