 CHAPTER 20 TRAPT Get the money," said Ronecky to Jerry Smith. There it is. He pointed to the drawer where McKeever, as banker, had kept the money. The wounded man in the meantime had disappeared. "'How much is ours?' asked Jerry Smith. "'All you find there,' answered Ronecky, calmly. "'But there's a big bunch—large bills, too. McKeever was loaded for bear. He loses, the house loses it. But in my country, Jerry, that wouldn't be half of what the house would lose, for a little trick like what's been played on us tonight. Not the half of what the house would lose, I tell you. He had us trimmed, Jerry, and out west we'd wreck this joint from head to heels. The definite Jerry fingered the money in the drawer of the table, uncertainly. Ronecky Dune swept it up and thrust it into his pocket. "'We'll split straws later,' said Ronecky. "'Main thing we need right about now is action. This coin will start us.' In the hall as they took their hats, they found big Frederick Fernand in the act of dissuading several of his clients from leaving. The incident of the evening was regrettable, most regrettable, but such things would happen when wild men appeared. Besides, the fault had been that of McKeever. He assured them that McKeever would never again be employed in his house. And Fernand meant it. He had discarded all care for the wounded man. Ronecky Dune stepped to him and drew him aside. "'Mr. Fernand,' he said, "'I've got to have a couple of words with you.' "'Come into my private room,' said Fernand, eager to get the fighter out of view of the rest of the little crowd.' He drew Ronecky and Jerry Smith into a small apartment which opened off the hall. It was furnished with an almost feminine delicacy of style, with wide-seated spindle-leg gluey the fifteenth chairs, and a couch covered with rich brocade. The desk was a work of bull. A small tapestry of goblins made a ragged glow of color on the wall. Frederick Fernand had recreated an atmosphere two hundred years old. He seated them at once. "'And now, sir,' he said sternly to Ronecky Dune, "'you are aware that I could have you placed in the hands of the police for what you've done to-night?' Ronecky Dune made no answer. His only retort was a gradually spreading smile. "'Partner,' he said at length, while Fernand was fleshing with anger at this nonchalance on the part of the Westerner, they might have grabbed me, but they would have grabbed your house first. "'That fact,' said Fernand hotly, "'is the reason you have decided to act like a wild man in my place?' "'Mr. Dune, this is your last visit.' "'It sure is,' said Ronecky heartily. "'Do you know what would have happened to you out in my neck of the woods if there had been a game like the one to-night?' I wouldn't have waited to be polite, but just pulled a gat and started smashing things for luck. The incident is closed,' Fernand said, with gravity, and he leaned forward as if to rise. "'Not by a long sight,' said Ronecky Dune. "'I got an idea, partner, that you worked the whole deal. This is a square house, Fernand. Why was I picked out for the dirty work? It required all of Fernand's long habits of self-control to keep him from gasping.' He managed to look Ronecky Dune fairly in the eyes. What did the youngster know? What had he guessed? Suppose I get down to cases and name names. The gent that talked to you about me was John Mark. Am I right?' asked Ronecky. "'Sir,' said Fernand, thinking that the world was tumbling about his ears. "'What infernal—' "'I'm right,' said Ronecky. "'I can tell when I've heard a gent by the way his face wrinkles up. I sure hurt you that time, Fernand.' John Mark it was, eh?' Fernand could merely stare. He began to have vague fears that this young devil might have hypnotic powers, or be in touch with he knew not what unearthly source of information. "'Out with it,' said Ronecky, leaving his chair.' Frederick Fernand bit his lip and thought. He was by no means a coward, and two alternatives presented themselves to him. One was to say nothing, and pretend absolute ignorance. The other was to drop his hand into his coat-pocket and fire the little automatic which nestled there. "'Listen,' said Ronecky-Dune, suppose I was to go a little further still in my guesses. Suppose I said I figured out that John Mark and his men might be scattered around the outside of this house, waiting for me and Smith to come out. What would you say to that?' "'Nothing,' said Fernand, but he blinked as he spoke. For a feat of imagination as great as that I have only a silent admiration. "'But, if you have some insane idea that John Mark, a gentleman I know and respect greatly, is lurking like an assassin outside the doors of my house, or maybe inside him,' said Ronecky, unabashed by this gravity, "'If you think that,' went on the gambler heavily, I can only keep silence. "'But, to ease your mind, I'll show you a simple way out of the house, a perfectly safe way which you cannot doubt will lead you out unharmed. Does that bring you what you want?' "'It sure does,' said Ronecky. "'Lead the way, Captain, and you'll find us right at your heels.' He fell in beside Jerry Smith, while the fat man led on as their guide. "'What does he mean by safe exit?' asked Jerry Smith. "'You'd think we were in a smuggler's cave.' "'Worse,' said Ronecky. "'A pile-worse son. And they'll have to have some tunnels or something for getaways. This ain't a lawful house, Jerry.' As they talked, they were being led down toward the cellar. They paused at last in a cool, big room, paved with cement, and the unmistakable scent of the underground was in the air. "'Here we are,' said the fat man, and so saying turned a switch, which illuminated the room completely, and then drew aside a curtain which opened into a black cavity. Ronecky Dune approached and peered into it. "'How does it look to you, Jerry?' he asked. "'Dark, but good enough for me, if you're all set on leaving by some funny way.' "'I don't care how it looks,' said Ronecky thoughtfully. "'By the looks you can't make out nothing most of the time. Nothing important. But there's ways of smelling things, and the smell of this here tunnel ain't too good to me. Look again, and try to pry down the tunnel with your flashlight, Jerry.' Accordingly Jerry raised his little pocket-electric torch and held it above his head. They saw a tunnel opening, with raw dirt walls, and a floor, and a rude framing of heavy timbers to support the roof. But it turned an angle and went out of view in a very few paces. "'Go down there with your lantern, and look for an exit,' said Ronecky Dune. "'I'll stay back here and see that we get our farewell all fixed up.' The damp cellar air seemed to affect the throat of the fat man, and he coughed heavily. "'Say, Ronecky,' said Jerry Smith, looks to me that they're carrying this pretty far. Let's take a chance on what we've got ahead of us.' The fat man was chuckling. You show a touching trust in me, Mr. Dune.' Ronecky turned on him with an ugly sneer. "'I don't like you, Fernand,' he said. "'There's nothing about you that looks good to me. If I knew half as much as I guess about you, I'd blow your head off, and go out without even thinking about you again. But I don't know. Here you've got me up against it. We're going to go down that tunnel. But if it's blind, Fernand, and you trap us from this end, it will be the worst day of your life. Take this passage, Dune, or turn around and come back with me, and I'll show you some other ways of getting out. Ways that lie under the open sky, Dune. Would you like that better? Do you want Starlight and John Mark, or a little stretch of darkness all by yourself?' asked Fernand. Ronecky Dune studied the face of Fernand, almost wistfully. The more he knew about the fellow, the more thoroughly convinced he was that Fernand was bad in all possible ways. He might be telling the truth now, however. Again he might be simply tempting him on to a danger. There was only one way to decide. Ronecky, a gambler himself, mentally flipped a coin, and nodded to Jerry. "'We'll go in,' he said, but man, man, how my old scars are pricking. They walked into the moldy, damp air of the tunnel, reached the corner, and there the passage turned, and ended in a blank wall of raw dirt, with a little apron of fallen debris at the bottom of it. Ronecky Dune walked first, and when he saw the passage obstructed in this manner, he whirled like a flash and fired at the mouth of the tunnel. A snarl and a curse told him that he had at least come close to his target, but he was too late. A great door was sliding rapidly across the width of the tunnel, and before he could fire a second time the tunnel was closed. Jerry Smith was temporarily mad. He ran at the door, which had just closed, and struck the whole weight of his body against it. There was not so much as a quiver. The face of it was smooth steel, and there was probably a dense thickness of stonework on the other side to match the cellar walls of the house. It was my fool fault, exclaimed Jerry, turning to his friend. My fault, Ronecky! Oh! What a fool I am! I should have known by the feel of the scars, said Ronecky. Put out that flashlight, Jerry. We may need it after a while, and the batteries won't last forever. He sat down as he spoke, cross-legged, and the last thing Jerry saw as he snapped out the light was the lean, intense face and the blazing eyes of Ronecky Dune. Decidedly this was not a fellow to trifle with. If he trembled for himself and Ronecky he could also spare a shudder for what would happen to Frederick Fernand if Ronecky got away. In the meantime the light went out, and the darkness sat heavy beside and about them, with that faint succession of inaudible breathing sounds which are sensed rather than actually heard. Is there anything we can do? Ask Jerry suddenly. It's all right to sit down and argue and worry, but isn't it foolish, Ronecky? How come? I mean it in this way. Sometimes when you can't solve a problem it's easy to prove that it can't be solved by anyone. That's what I can prove now, but why waste time? Have we got anything special to do with our time? Ask Ronecky dryly. Well, my proof is easy. Here we are in hard-pan dirt without any sort of tool for digging, so we sure can't tunnel out from the sides, can we? Looks most like we can't, said Ronecky, sadly. And the only ways that are left are at the ends. That's right. But one end is the unfinished part of the tunnel, and if you think we can do anything to the steel door, hush up, said Ronecky. Besides there ain't any use in talking in a whisper either. No, it sure don't look like we could do much to that door. Besides, even if we could, I don't think I'd go. I'd rather take a chance against starvation than another trip to Fat Fernand's place. If I ever enter it again, son, you lay to it that he'll get me bumped off, Mighty Pronto. Jerry Smith, after a groan, returned to his argument. But that ties us up, Ronecky. The door won't work, and it's worse than solid rock. And we can't tunnel out from the side without so much as a pin to help us dig, can we? I think that just settles things, Ronecky. We can't get out. Suppose we had some dynamite, said Ronecky cheerily. Sure, but we haven't. Suppose we find some. Jerry Smith groaned. Are you trying to make a joke out of this? Besides, could we send off a blast of dynamite in a closed tunnel like this? We could try, said Ronecky. The way I'm figuring is to show you its bad medicine to sit down and figure out how you're beat. Even if you owe a pile of money, they sum satisfaction in sitting back and adding up the figures so that they come out about a million dollars on top, in your dreams. Before we can get out of here, we got to begin to feel powerful sure. But you take it straight, friend. Fernand ain't going to leave us in here. Nope, he's going to find a way to get us out. That's easy to figure out. But the way he'll get us out will be as dead ones, and then he can dump us when he feels like it in the river. Ain't that the simplest way of working it out? The teeth of Jerry Smith came together with a snap. Then the thing for us to do is get set and wait for them to make an attack. No use waiting. When they attack, it'll be in a way that'll give us no chance. Then you figure the same as me. We're lost. Unless we can get out before they make the attack. In other words, Jerry, there may be something behind the dirt wall at the end of the tunnel. Nonsense, Ronecky. There's got to be, said Ronecky soberly, because of their Aunt, you and me are dead ones, Jerry. Come along and help me look anyway. Jerry rose obediently and flashed on his precious pocket torch, and they went down to pass the turn and come again to the ragged wall of earth which terminated the passage. Jerry held the torch and passed it close to the dirt. All was solid. There was no sign of anything wrong. The very pick marks were clearly defined. Hold on, whispered Ronecky. Hold on, Jerry, I seen something. He snatched the electric torch, and together they peered at the patch from which the dried earth had fallen. Queer for deadpan to break up like that, muttered Ronecky, cutting into the surface beneath the patch with the point of his hunting-knife. Instantly there was a sharp gritting of steel against steel. The shout of Ronecky was an in-drawn breath. The shout of Jerry was a moan of relief. Ronecky continued his observations. The thing was very clear. They had dug the tunnel to this point, and excavated the place which they had guarded with a steel door. But in order to conceal the hiding-place, or whatever it might be, they cunningly worked a false wall of dirt against the face of it, using clay and a thin coating of plaster as a base. It's a place they don't use very often, maybe, said Ronecky, and that's why they can afford to put up this fake wall of plaster and mud after every time they want to come down here. Pretty clever to leave the little pile of dirt on the floor, just like it had been worked off by the picks, eh? But we found them, Jerry, and now all we got to do is get to the door and into whatever lies beyond. We'd better hurry, then, cried Jerry. How come? Take a breath! Ronecky obeyed. The air was beginning to fill with a punchet and unmistakable odor of burning wood. Chapter 21 of Ronecky Dune. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Reading by Rowdy Delaney. Idaho, USA. Ronecky Dune. By Max Brand. Chapter 21. The Miracle. No great intelligence was needed to understand the meaning of it. Fernand, having trapped his game, was now about to kill it. He could suffocate the two with smoke blown into the tunnel and make them rush blindly out. The moment they appeared, dazed, and uncertain, revolvers of half a dozen gunmen would be emptied into them. It's like taking a trap full of rats, said Ronecky bitterly, and shaking them into a pail of water. Let's go back and see what we can. They had only to turn the corner of the tunnel, to be sure. Fernand had had the door of the tunnel slid noiselessly open, then into the tunnel itself, smoking, slowly burning, pungent pieces of pine wood had been thrown, having been first soaked with oil, perhaps. The tunnel was rapidly filling with smoke, and through the white drifts of it they looked into the lighted cellar beyond. They would run out at last, gasping for breath and blinded by the smoke, to be shot down in perfect light. So much was clear. Now back to the wall, and try and find the door, said Ronecky. Jerry had already turned. In a moment they were back, and tearing with their fingers at the sham wall, kicking loose fragments with their feet. All the time, while they cleared a larger and larger space, they searched feverishly with the electric torch for some sign of a knob which would indicate a door, or some button, or spring, that might be used to open it. But there was nothing, and in the meantime the smoke was drifting back in more and more unbearable clouds. I can't take much more, declared Jerry at length. Keep low! The best air is there, answered Ronecky. A voice called from the mouth of the tunnel, and they could recognize the smooth tongue of Frederick Fernand. Dune! I think I have you now. But trust yourselves to me, and all may still be well with you. Throw out your weapons, and walk out yourselves with your hands above your heads, and you may have a second chance. I don't promise I simply offer you a hope in place of no hope at all. Is that a good bargain? I'll see you hung first, answered Ronecky, and turned again to his work at the wall. But it seemed a quite hopeless task. The surface of the steel was still covered, after they had cleared as much as they could, with a thin, clinging coat of plaster which might well conceal a button or a device for opening the door. Every moment the task became infinitely harder. Finally, Jerry, his lungs nearly empty of oxygen, cast himself to the floor and gasp. A horrible gagging sound betrayed his efforts to breathe. Ronecky knelt beside him, his own lungs burning, and his head was thick and dizzy. One more try, then we'll run, and rush them and die fighting, Jerry. He nodded and started to his feet. Together they made that last effort, fumbling with their hands across the surface, and suddenly had they touched the spring indeed? A section of the surface before them swayed slowly in. Ronecky caught the half-senseless body of Jerry Smith and thrust him inside. He staggered after and before him stood Ruth Tolliver. While they lay panting on the floor, she closed the door through which they had come, and then stood and silently watched them. Presently Smith sat up, and Ronecky Doon staggered to his feet, his head clearing rapidly. He found himself in a small room, not more than eight feet square, with a ceiling so low that he could barely stand erect. As for the furnishings and the arrangement, it was more like the inside of a safe than anything else. There were, to be sure, three little stools, but nothing else one would expect to find in an apartment. For the rest was nothing but a series of steel drawers and strong chests lining the walls of the room and leaving in the center very little room in which one might move about. He had only a moment to see all of this. Ruth Tolliver, hooded in a dark evening cloak but with the light gleaming in her coppery hair, was shaking him by the arm and leaning a white face close to him. Hurry, she was saying, there isn't a minute to lose. You must start now at once. They will find out. They will guess, and then— John Mark, he asked—yes, she exclaimed, realizing that she had said too much, and she pressed her hand over her mouth, looking at Ronecky Doon in a sort of horror. Jerry Smith had come to his feet at last, but he remained in the background, staring with a befuddled mind at the lovely vision of the girl. Fear and excitement and pleasure had transformed her face, but she seemed trembling in an agony of desire to be gone. She seemed invincibly drawn to remain there longer still. Ronecky Doon stared at her, with a strange blending of pity and admiration. He knew that the danger was not over by any means, but he began to forget that. This way, called the girl, and led toward an opposite door very low in the wall. Lady, said Ronecky gently, will you hold on one minute? They won't start to go through the smoke for a while. They'll think they've choked us, when we don't come out on the rush, shooting. But they'll wait quite a time to make sure. They don't like my style so well that they'll hurry me. He smiled sourly at the thought. And we got time to learn a lot of things that we'll never find out, unless we know right now, pronto. He stepped before the girl as he spoke. How come you knew we were in there? How come you to get down here? How come you risk everything you got to let us out through that treasure-room of Mark's gang? He had guessed as shrewdly as he could, and he saw, by her immediate wincing, that the shot had told. You strange, mad, wild westerner, she exclaimed, do you mean to tell me you want to stay here and talk? Even if you have a moment to spare, you must use it. If you knew the men with whom you are dealing, you would never dream of, in her paws, he said, smiling, lady, it's tolerable clear that you don't know me. But the way I figure it is this. A gent may die any time, but when he finds a minute for good living, he'd better make the most of it. He knew, by her eyes, that she had guessed his meaning, but she wished to be certain. What do you intend by that, she asked? It's tolerable simple, said Ronyki. I've seen square things done in my life, but I've never yet seen a girl throw all she had to a good turn for a gent she's seen only once. You follow me, lady? I pretty near guess the trouble you're running into. You guess what, she asked? I guess that you're one of John Mark's best cards. You're his chief gambler, lady, and he uses you on the big game. She had drawn back, one hand pressed against her breast, her mouth tight with the pain. You have guessed all about me, she asked faintly. That means you despise me. What folks do don't matter so much, said Ronyki. It's the reason they have for doing the thing that matters. I figure, and the way they do it. I don't know how John Mark hypnotized you and made a tool out of you, but I know that you ain't changed by what you've done. Ronyki Dune stepped to her quickly and took both her hands. He was not, ordinarily, particularly forward with girls. Now he acted as gracefully as if he had been the father of Ruth Tolliver. Lady, he said, you saved two lives tonight. That's a tolerable lot to have piled up to anybody's credit. Besides, inside your snow white. We've got to go, but I'm coming back. Will you let me come back? Never, never, declared Ruth Tolliver. You must never see me. You must never see Carolyn Smith again. Any step you take in that direction is under peril of your life. Leave New York, Ronyki Dune. Leave it as quickly as you may, and never come back. Only pray that his arm isn't long enough to follow you. Leave, Carolyn, he asked. I'll tell you what you're going to do, Ruth. When you get back home, you're going to tell Carolyn that Jerry here has seen the light about Mark and that he has money enough to pay back what he owes. But I haven't, Jerry broke in. I have it, said Ronyki, and that's the same thing. I'll take no charity, declared Jerry Smith. You'll do what I tell you, said Ronyki Dune. You've been bothering enough, son. Go tell Carolyn what I've said, he went on to the girl. Let her know that there's no claim on anybody, and if she wants to find Bill Gregg, all she's got to do is go across the street. You understand? But even if I tell her, how could she go, Ronyki Dune, when she's watched? If she can't make a start and get to a man that loves her and is waiting for her right across the street, she ain't worth worrying about, said Ronyki sternly. Do we go this way? She hurried before them. You've waited too long. You've waited too long. She kept whispering in her terror as she led them through the door, paused to turn out the light behind her, and then conducted them down a passage like that on the other side of the treasure chamber. It was all deadly black and deadly silent, but the rustle of the girl's dress, as she hurried before them, was their guide. And always her whisper came back, hurry, hurry! I fear it is too late. Suddenly they were climbing up a narrow flight of steps. They stood under the starlight in the backyard, with houses about them on all sides. Go down that alley, and you will be on the street, said the girl. Down that alley, and then hurry, run, find the first taxi. Will you do that? We'll sure go, and we'll wait for Carolyn Smith and you too. Don't talk madness. Why will you stay? You risk everything for yourselves and for me. Jerry Smith was already tugging at Ronyki's arm to draw him away, but the Westerner was stubbornly pressing back to the girl. He had her hand, and would not leave it. If you don't show up, lady, he said, I'll come to find you. You hear? No, no. I swear. Bless you, but never venture near again. But oh, Ronyki Dune, I wish ten other men in the whole world could be half so generous, and wild as you. Suddenly her hand was slipped from his, and she was gone into the shadows. Down the alley went Jerry Smith, but he returned in an agony of dread to find that Ronyki Dune was still running here and there, in a blind confusion, probing the shadowy corners of the yard in search of the girl. Come off, you wild man, said Jerry. They'll be on our heels any minute. They may be waiting for us now. Down the alley. Come off, idiot, quick! If I thought there was a chance of finding her, I'd stay, declared Ronyki Dune, shaking his head bitterly. Whether you and me live, don't count beside a girl like that. Getting soot on one tip of her finger might mean more in whether you or me die. Maybe, maybe, said the other, but answer that to-morrow. Right now, let's start to make sure of ourselves, and we can come back and find her later. Ronyki Dune submitting partly to the force, and partly to the persuasion of his friend, turned reluctantly, and followed him down the alley. CHAPTER 22 Mark makes a move Passing hurriedly out of the cloakroom, a little later, Ruth met Simons, the lieutenant of Frederick Fernand, in the passage. He was a rat-faced little man with a fruitive smile. Not an unpleasant smile, but it was continually coming and going, as if he wished earnestly to win the favor of the men before him, but greatly doubted his ability to do so. Ruth Tolliver, knowing his genius for cards, knowing his cold and unscrupulous soul, detested him heartily. When she saw his eyes flicker up and down the hall she hesitated. Obviously he wished to speak to her, and obviously he did not wish to be seen in the act. As she paused he stepped to her, his face suddenly set with determination. Watched John Mark, he whispered, don't trust him, he suspects everything. What? Everything about what, she asked? Simons gazed at her for a moment with a singular expression. There were conjoined cynicism, admiration, doubt, and fear in his glance. But instead of speaking again, he bowed and slipped away into the open hall. She heard him call, and she heard Fernand's oily voice make answer, and at that she shivered. What had Simons guessed? How under heaven did he know where she had gone when she left the gaming-house? Or did he know? Had he not merely guessed? Perhaps he had been set on by Fernand, and marked to entangle and confuse her. There remained, out of all this confusion of guesswork, a grim feeling that Simons did indeed know, and that, for the first time in his life, perhaps, he was doing an unbought, a purely generous thing. She remembered now how often Simons had followed her with his eyes, how often his face had blighted when she spoke even casually to him. Yes, there might be a reason for Simons' generosity, but it implied that he knew fairly well what John Mark himself half-guessed. The thought that she was under the suspicion of Mark himself was terrible to her. She drew a long breath and advanced courageously into the gaming-rooms. The first thing she saw was Fernand, hurrying a latecomer toward the tables, laughing and chatting as he went. She shuddered at the sight of him. It was strange that he, who had a moment before, in the cellar of that house been working to bring about the death of two men, should now be immaculate, self-possessed. A step farther and she saw John Mark sitting at a console table, with his back to the room and a cup of tea before him. That was, in fact, his favorite drink at all hours of the day or night. To see Fernand was bad enough, but to see the mastermind of all the evil that passed around her was too much. The girl inwardly thanked Heaven that his back was turned and started to pass him as softly as possible. Just a minute, Ruth, he called, as she was almost at the door of the room. For a moment there was a frantic impulse in her to bolt like a foolish child afraid of the dark. In the next apartment there was light and warmth and eager faces and smiles and laughter, and here, behind her, was the very spirit of darkness calling her back. After an imperceptible hesitation she turned. Mark had not turned in his chair, but it was easy to discover how he had known of her passing. A small oval mirror fixed against the wall before him had shown her image. How much had it betrayed, she wondered, of her guilty, stealthy pace. She went to him and found that he was leisurely and openly examining her in the glass as she approached, his chin resting on one hand, his thin face perfectly calm, his eyes hazy with content. It was a habit of his to regard her like a picture, but she had never become used to it. She was always disconcerted by it as she was at this moment. He rose, of course, when she was beside him and asked her to sit down. But I've hardly touched a card, she said. This isn't very professional, you know, wasting a whole evening. She was astonished to see him flush to the roots of his hair. His voice shook. Sit down, please. She obeyed, positively inert with surprise. Do you think I keep you at this detestable business because I want the money? He asked. Dear heaven! Ruth, is that what you think of me? Fortunately before she could answer he went on. No, no, no. I have wanted to make you a free and independent being, my dear, and that is why I have put you through the most dangerous and exacting school in the world. You understand? I think I do, she replied, falteringly. But not entirely. Let me pour you some tea, no? He sighed as he blew forth the smoke of a cigarette. But you don't understand entirely, he continued, and you must. Go back to the old days, when you knew nothing about the world but me. Can you remember? Yes, yes. Then you certainly recall a time when, if I had simply given directions, you would have been mine, Ruth. I could have married you the moment you became a woman. Is that true? Yes, she whispered. That is perfectly true. The coldness that passed over her taught her for the first time how truly she dreaded that marriage which had been postponed, but which inevitably hung over her head. But I didn't want such a wife, continued John Mark. You would have been an undeveloped child, really. You would never have grown up. No matter what they say, something about a woman is cut off at the root when she marries. Certainly if she had not been free before, she is a slave if she marries a man with a strong will. And I have a strong will, Ruth, very strong. Very strong, John, she whispered again. He smiled faintly as if there were less than what he wanted in the second use of the name. He went on, you see, I have faced a problem. I must and would marry you. There was never any other woman born who was meant for me. So much so good. But if I married you before you were wise enough to know me, you would have become a slave, shrinking from me, yielding to me, incapable of loving me. No, I wanted a free and independent creature as a wife. I wanted a partnership, you see. Put you into the world, then, and let you see men and women? No, I could not do that in the ordinary way. I have had to show you the hard and bad side of life, because I am, in many ways, a hard and bad man myself. He said it almost literally through his teeth. His face was fierce, defying her. His eyes were wistful, and treating her not to agree with him. Such a sudden rush of pity for the man swept over her that she put out her hand and pressed his. He looked down at her hand for a moment, and she felt his fingers trembling under that gentle pressure. I understand more now, she said slowly, than I have ever understood before. But I'll never understand entirely. A thing that's understood entirely is despised, he said, with a careless sweep of his hand. A thing that is understood is not feared. I wish to be feared, not to make people cower, but to make them know when I come and when I go. Even love is nothing without a seasoning of fear. For instance, he flushed as the torrent of his speech swept him into a committal of himself. I'm afraid of you, dear girl. Do you know what I have done with the money you have won? Tell me," she said curiously, and at the same time she glanced in wonder as a servant passed softly across the little room. Was it not stranger than words could tell that such a man as John Mark should be sitting in this almost public place and pouring his soul out into the ears of a girl? I shall tell you," said Mark, his voice softening. I have contributed half of it to charity. Her lips compressed with doubt, parted in wonder. Charity? She exclaimed. The other half, he went on, I deposited in a bank to the credit of a fictitious personality. That fictitious personality is, in flesh and blood, Ruth Tolliver, with a new name. You understand? I have only to hand you the bank-book with the list of deposits, and you can step out of this Tolliver personality and appear in a new part of the world as another being. Do you see what it means? If at the last you find you cannot marry me, my dear, you are provided for, not out of my charity, which would be bitter to you, but out of your own earnings. And lest you should be horrified by the thought of living on your earnings at the gaming-table, I have thrown bread on the water's, dear Ruth. For every dollar you have in the bank you have given another to charity, and both, I hope, have borne interest for you. His smile faded a little, as she murmured, with her glance going past him, then I am free, free, John? Whenever you wish. Not that I shall ever wish, but to know that I am not chained, that is a wonderful thing. She looked directly at him again. I never dreamed there was such fineness in you, John Mark. I never dreamed it, but I should have. Now I have been winning Carolyn to the game, he went on, and she is beginning to love it. In another year, or six months, trust me to have completely filled her with the fever. But now enters the mischief-maker in the peace. A stranger, an ignorant outsider. This incredible man arrives, and in a few days, having miraculously run Carolyn to earth, goes on and brings Carolyn face to face with her lover, teaches Jerry Smith that I am his worst enemy, gets enough money to pay off his debt to me, and convinces him I can never use my knowledge of his crime to jail him, because I don't dare bring the police too close to my own rather explosive record. I saw them both here, said the girl. She wondered how much he had guessed, and she saw his keen eyes probe her with a glance. But her ingenuousness, if it did not disarm him, at least dulled the edge of his suspicions. He was here, and the trap was laid here, and he slipped through it. Got through a certain room which Fernand would give a million to keep secret. At any rate the fellow has shown that he is slippery, and has a sting, too. He sent a bullet a fraction of an inch past Fernand's head, at one point in this little story. In short, the price is too high. What I want is to secure Carolyn Smith from the inside. I want you to go to her, to persuade her to go with you on a trip, take her to the Bermudas, or to Havana. Any place you please, the moment the Westerner thinks the Lady is running away from him, of her own volition, he'll throw up his hands, and curse his luck, and go home. They have a sort of pride on the other side of the Rockies. Will you go back to night, right now, and persuade Carolyn to go with you? She bowed her head under the shock of it. Becky Dune had begged her to send Carolyn Smith to meet her lover. Now the counter-attack followed. Do you think she'd listen? Yes. Tell her that the one thing that will save the head of Bill Gregg is for her to go away, otherwise I'll wipe the fool off the map. Better still, tell her that Gregg of his own free will has left New York and given up the chase. Tell her you wanted to console her with a trip. She'll be sad, and glad, and flattered, all at the same moment, and go along with you without a word. Will you try, Ruth? I suppose you would have Bill Gregg removed if he continued a nuisance. Not a shadow of a doubt. Will you do your best? She rose. Yes, said the girl. Then she managed to smile at him. Of course I'll do my best. I'll go back right now. He took her arm to the door of the room. Thank heaven, he said, that I have one person in whom I can trust without question, one who needs no bribing or rewards, but works to please me. Goodbye, my dear." He watched her down the hall, and then turned, and went through room after room to the rear of the house. There he rapped on a door in a peculiar manner. It was opened at once, and Harry Morgan appeared before him. A rushed job, Harry, he said, a little shadowing. Harry jerked his cap lower over his eyes. Give me the smell of the trail. I'm ready, he said. Ruth Tolliver has just left this house. Follow her. She'll probably go home. She'll probably talk with Carolyn Smith. Find a way of listening. If you hear anything that seems wrong to you, anything about Carolyn leaving the house alone, for instance, telephone me at once. Now go and work, as you have never worked for me before. End of Chapter 22 Chapter 23 of Veronica Dune This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Reading by Rowdy Delaney, Idaho, U.S.A. Ronnicky Dune by Max Brandt Chapter 23 Carolyn Takes Command Ruth left the gaming-house of Frederick Fernand, entirely convinced that she must do, as John Mark had told her, work for him as she had never worked before. The determination made her go home to Beekman Place as fast as a taxi cab would whirl her along. It was not until she climbed to Carolyn Smith's room and opened the door that her determination faltered. For there she saw the girl lying on her bed weeping. And it seemed to the poor bewildered brain of Ruth Tolliver, as if the form of Ronnicky Dune, passionate and eager as before, stood at her side and begged her again to send Carolyn across the street to a lifelong happiness, and she could do it. Though Mark had ordered the girl to be confined to her room until further commands were given on the subject, no one in the house would think of questioning Ruth Tolliver if she took the girl downstairs to the street and told her to go on her way. She closed the door softly and, going to the bed, touched the shoulder of Carolyn. The poor girl sat up slowly and turned a stained and swollen face to Ruth. If there was much to be pitied there, there was something to be laughed at also. Ruth could not forebear smiling. But Carolyn was clutching at her hands. He's changed his mind, she asked eagerly. He sent you to tell me that he's changed his mind, Ruth? Oh! You've persuaded him to it? Like an angel? I know you have! Ruth Tolliver freed herself from the reaching hands, moistened the ends of a towel in the bathroom, and began to remove the traces of tears from the face of Carolyn Smith. That face was no longer flushed, but growing pale with excitement and hope. It's true, she kept asking. It is true, Ruth. Do you love him as much as that? More than I can tell you, so much more. Try to tell me, then, dear. Talking of her love affair began to brighten the other girl, and now she managed to wand smile. His letters were very bad, but between the lines I could read so much real manhood, such simple honesty, such a heart, such a will to trust. Ruth, are you laughing at me? No, no, far from that. It's a thrilling thing to hear, my dear. For she was remembering that in another man there might be found these same qualities. Not so much simplicity, perhaps, but to make up for it a great fire of will and driving energy. But I didn't actually know that I was in love. Even when I made the trip west and wrote to him to meet the train on my return, even then I was only guessing. When he didn't appear at the station, I went cold, and made up my mind that I would never think of him again. But when you saw him in the street, here, John Mark had prepared me and hardened me against that meeting, and I was afraid to even think for myself. But when Ronegie Dune, bless him, talked to me in your room, I knew what Bill Greg must be, since he had a friend who would venture as much for him as Ronegie Dune did. It came over me in a flash. I did love him. I did indeed. Yes, yes, whispered Ruth Tolliver, nodding and smiling faintly. I remember how he stood there and talked to you. He was like a man on fire. No wonder that spark caught in you, Carolyn. He—he's a very fine-looking fellow, don't you think, Carolyn? Bill Greg? Yes, indeed. I mean Ronegie. Of course, very handsome. There was something in the voice of Carolyn that made Ruth look down sharply to her face, but the girl was clever enough to mask her excitement and delight. Afterward, when you think over what he has said, it isn't a great deal, but at the moment he seems to know a great deal about what's going on inside one, don't you think, Carolyn? His continual appeals for advice—appeals from the infallible Ruth Tolliver—set the heart of Carolyn beating. There was most certainly something in the wind. I think he does, agreed Carolyn, masking her eyes. He has a way, when he looks at you, of making you feel that he isn't thinking of anything else in the world but you. Does he have that same effect on everyone, asked Ruth? He added, after a moment of thought, Yes, I suppose it's just the habit of his. I wish I knew. Why, queried Carolyn, unable to refrain from the stinging little question? Oh, for no good reason. Just that he's an odd character. In my work, you know, one has to study character. Ronegie Doon is a different sort of man, don't you think? Very different, dear. Then the great inspiration came to Carolyn. Ruth was the key, which she knew, could unlock nearly any door in the house of John Mark. Do you know what we are going to do, she said gravely, rising? Well, we're going to open that door together, and we're going down the stairs—together. Together? But we—don't you know John Mark gave orders? That I'm not to leave the room? What difference does that make? They won't dare stop us, if you are with me, leading the way. Carolyn, are you mad? When I come back, you're not coming back. Not coming back? No, you're going with me. She took Ruth by the arms, and turned her until the light struck into her eyes. Ruth Tolliver, aghast at this sudden strength in one who had always been a meek follower, obeyed without resistance. But where, she demanded? Where I'm going. What? To Ronegie Doon, my dear, don't you see? The insistence bewildered Ruth Tolliver. She felt herself driven, irresistibly forward, with or without her own will. Carolyn, she protested, trying feebly to free herself from the commanding hands and eyes of her companion. Are you quite mad? Go to him? Why should I? How can I? Not as I am going to Bill Gregg, with my heart in my hands, but to ask Ronegie Doon, bless him, to take you away somewhere, so that you can begin a new life. Isn't that simple? Ask charity of a stranger? You know he isn't a stranger, and you know it isn't charity. He'll be happy. He's the kind that's happy when he's being of use to others. Yes, answered Ruth Tolliver. Of course he is. And you'd trust him? To the end of the world. Good to leave! Ruth, you've kept cobwebs before your eyes so long that you don't see what's happening around you. John Mark hypnotizes you. He makes you think that the whole world is bad, that we are simply making capital out of our crimes. As a matter of fact, the cold truth is that he has made me a thief, Ruth, and he has made you something almost as bad—a gambler. The follower had become the leader, and she was urging Ruth Tolliver slowly to the door. Ruth was protesting. She could not throw herself on the kindness of Veronica Dune. It could not be done. It would be literally throwing herself at his head. But here the door opened, and she allowed herself to be led out into the hall. They had not made more than a half a dozen steps down the dem length when the guard hurried toward them. Talk to him, whispered Carolyn Smith. Please come to stop me, and you're the only person who can make him let us pass on. The guard hurriedly came up to them. Sorry, he said. Got an idea you're going downstairs, Miss Smith? Yes, she said faintly. The fellow grinned. Not yet. You'll stay up here till the chief gives the word, and I got to ask you to step back into your room, and step quick. His voice grew harsh, and he came closer. He told me straight, you're not to come out. Carolyn shrunk back, and she was on the verge of turning when the arm of Ruth Tolliver passed strongly around her shoulders, and stayed her. She's going with me, she told John Mark's bulldog. Does that make a difference to you? He ducked his head, and grinned feebly in anxiety. Sure it makes a difference. You go where you want, any time you want. But this—I say she's going with me, and I'm responsible for her. She urged Carolyn forward, and the latter made a step, only to find that she was directly confronted by the guard. I got my orders, he said desperately to Ruth. Do you know who I am, she asked hotly? I know who you are, he answered, and believe me, I would not start bothering you none, but I got to keep this lady back. I got the orders. Their old orders insisted Ruth Tolliver, and they have been changed. Not to my knowing, replied the other, less certain in his manner. Ruth seized the critical moment to say, Walk on, Carolyn, if he blocks your way. She did not need to finish the sentence, for as Carolyn started, the guard slunk sullenly to one side of the corridor. It ain't my doings, he said, but they got two bosses in this joint, and one of them is a girl. How can a gent have any idea which way he ought to step in a pinch? Go on, Miss Smith, but she'll be answered for— They hardly heard the last of these words, as they turned down the stairway, hurrying, but not fast enough to excite the suspicion of the man behind them. Oh, Ruth! whispered Carolyn. Oh, Ruth! It was close, said Ruth Tolliver, but we're through. And now that I'm about to leave it, I realize how I've hated this life all these years. I'll never stop thanking you for waking me up to it, Carolyn. They reached the floor of the lower hall, and a strange thought came to Ruth. She had hurried home to execute the bidding of John Mark. She had left it obeying the bidding of Ronnicky Doon. They scurried to the front door. As they opened it, a sharp gust of night air blew in on them, and they heard the sound of a man running up the steps. In a moment the dim hall light showed on the slender form and the pale face of John Mark standing before them. Carolyn felt the start of Ruth Tolliver. For her part she was on the verge of collapse, but a strong pressure from the hand of her companion told her that she had an ally in the time of need. Tutt, tutt, Mark was saying, what's this? How did Carolyn get out of her room? And with you, Ruth? It's idiotic to keep her locked up in there all day and all night, and whether like this, said Ruth, with a perfect calm that restored Carolyn's courage almost to normal. When I talked to her this evening I made up my mind that I'd take her out for a walk. Well, replied John Mark, that might not be so bad. Let's step inside and talk it over for a moment. They retreated, and he entered, and clicked the door behind him. The main question is, where do you intend to walk? Just in the street below the house. Which might not lead you across to the house on the other side? Certainly not. I shall be with her. I suppose both of you go into that house, and I lose two birds instead of one. What of that, my clever Ruth? She knew it once, by something in his voice rather than his words, that he had managed to learn the tenor of the talk in Carolyn's room. She asked bluntly, what are you guessing at? Nothing. I only speak of what I know. No single pair of ears is enough for a busy man. I have to hire help, and I get it. Very effective help, too. Don't you agree? Eavesdropping, exclaimed Ruth bitterly. Well, it's true, John Mark. You sent me to steal her from her lover, and I've tried to steal her for him in the end. Do you know why? Because she was able to show me what a happy love might mean to a woman. She showed me that, and she showed me how much courage love had given her. So I began to guess a good many things, and among the rest I came to the conclusion that I could never truly love you, John Mark. I've spoken quickly, she went on at last. It isn't that I have feared you all the time. I haven't been playing a part, John, on my word. Only tonight I learned something new. Do you see? Heaven be praised, said John Mark, that we all have the power of learning new things now and again. I congratulate you. Am I to suppose that Carolyn was your teacher? He turned from her and faced Carolyn Smith, and though he smiled on her, there was a quality in that smile that shriveled her very soul with fear. No matter what he might say, or do this evening, to establish himself in the better graces of the girl he was losing, his malice was not dead. She knew that. She was my teacher, answered Ruth steadily, because she showed me, John, what a marvelous thing it is to be free. You understand that all those years I have been with you I have never been free. Not free, he asked, the very touch of emotion in his voice. Not free, my dear? Was there ever the least wish of yours since you were a child that I did not gratify? Not one, Ruth. Not one, surely, of which I am conscious. Because I had no wishes, she answered slowly, that were not suggested by something you liked or disliked. You were the starting point of all that I desired. I was almost afraid to think until I became sure that you approved of my thinking. That was long ago, he said gravely. Since those old days I see you have changed greatly. Because of the education you gave me, she answered, yes, yes, that was a great mistake. I began to see. Heaven, one might say, gave you to me. I felt I must improve on the gift of heaven before I accepted you. There was my fault. After that I must pay the great penalty, kismet. And now what is it you wish? To leave it once. A little harsh, but necessary, if you will it. There is the door, free to you. The change of identity of which I spoke to you is easily arranged. I have only to take you to the bank, and that is settled. Is there anything else? Only one thing, and that is not much. Very good. You have given me so much, she ran on, eagerly, that you will give me one more thing, out of the goodness of that really big heart of yours, John, dear. He winced under the pleasantly tender word. And she said, I want to take Carolyn with me, to freedom and the man she loves. That is really all. The lean fingers of John Mark drummed on the back of the chair, while he smiled down on her, an inexplicable expression on his face. Really that, he asked. My dear, how strange your women really are. After all these years of study I should have thought that you would, at least, have partially comprehended me. I see that as not to be. But try to understand that I divide with a nice distinction the affairs of sentiment and the affairs of business. There is only one element in my world of sentiment. That is you. Therefore ask what you want and take it for yourself. But for Carolyn, that is an entirely different matter. No, Ruth, you may take what you will for yourself. But for her, for any other living soul, not a penny, not a scent will I give. Can you comprehend it? Is it clear, as for giving her freedom, nothing under heaven could persuade me to it? The ultimate sacrifice. She stared at him as the blow fell, and then her glance turned slowly to Carolyn who had uttered a sharp cry and sunk into a chair. Help me, Ruth, she implored pitifully. No other person in the world can help me but you. Do you see that? Ask Ruth quietly of John Mark, and still it doesn't move you? Not a hair-breath, my dear. But isn't it absurd? Because I have my freedom, and I tell the police that in this house a girl against her will. Tush, my dear, you really do not know me at all. Do you think they can reach me? She may be a hundred miles away before you have spoken ten words to the authorities. But I warn you that all your holds are broken. She knows that you have no hold over her brother. She knows that Ronnicki Dune has broken them all. That Jerry is free of you. Jerry Dune, said Mark, his face turning gray, is a talented man. No doubt of it, his is a very peculiar and incisive talent, I admit. But though he has broken all the old holds, there are ways of finding new ones. If you leave now, I can promise you, my dear, that before the next day dawns the very soul of Carolyn will be a pawn in my hands. Do you doubt it? Such an exquisitely tender, such a delicate soul as Carolyn, can you doubt that I can form invisible bonds that will hold her even when she is a thousand miles away from me? Tush, my dear, think again. And you will think better of my ability. Suppose, said Ruth, I offer to stay. He bowed. You tempt me with such overwhelming generosity to become even more generous myself and set her free at once. But alas, I am essentially a practical man. If you will stay with me, Ruth, if you will marry me at once, why then indeed this girl is as free as the wind. Otherwise I should be a fool. You see, my dear, I love you so that I must have you by fair means or foul, but I cannot put any chain on you except your own word. I confess it, you see, even before this girl, if she is capable of understanding, which I doubt. I speak again. Do you make the offer? She hesitated, and he went on. Be careful, I have had you once, and I have lost you, it seems. If I have you again, there is no power in you, no power between heaven and earth to take you from me a second time. Give yourself to me with a word, and I shall make you mind forever. Then Carolyn shall go free. Free is the wind. To her lover, my dear, who is waiting. He made no step toward her, and he kept his voice smooth and clear. Had he done otherwise, he knew that she would have shrunk. She looked to him. She looked to Carolyn Smith. The latter had suddenly raised her head, and thrown out her hands, with an unutterable appeal in her eyes. At that mute appeal, Ruth Tolliver surrendered. It's enough, she said. I think there would be no place for me after all. What could I do in this world except what you've taught me to do? No, let Carolyn go freely, and I give my— Stop! He checked her with a raised hand, and his eyes blazed and glittered in the dead whiteness of his face. Don't give me your word, my dear. I don't want that chain to bind you. There might come a time when some power arose strong enough to threaten to take you from me. Then I want to show you that I don't need your promise. I can hold you for myself. You come to me and tell me simply that you will be mine if you can. Will you do that? She crossed the room slowly and stood before him. I will do that, she said faintly, half-closing her eyes. She had come so close to that, if he willed, he could have taken her in his arms. She nerved herself against it, then she felt her hand taken, raised, and touched lightly against trembling lips. As she stepped back, she knew that the decisive moment of her life had been passed. You are free to go, said John Mark to Carolyn. Therefore don't wait, go at once. Ruth the girl whispered. Ruth Tolliver turned away, and the movement brought Carolyn beside her, with a cry of pain. Is it what I think, she asked, are you making the sacrifice all for me? You don't really care for him, Ruth? And Carolyn, John Mark broke in. She turned at the command of that familiar voice, as if she had been struck with a whip. He raised the curtain in front of the window beside the door, and was pointing up across the street. I see the window of Greg's room, he said. A light has just appeared in it. I suppose he is waiting. But if you wish to go, your time is short. Very short. An infinite threat was behind the calmness of the voice. She could only say to Ruth, I'll never forget. Then she fled down the hall and through the door, and the two within heard the sharp patter of her heels as she ran down to the street. It was freedom for Carolyn, and Ruth, lifting her eyes, looked into the face of the man she was to marry. She could have held out, she felt, had it not been for the sound of those departing footsteps, running so blithely toward a lifetime of happiness. Even as it was, she made herself hold out. Then a vague astonishment came to clear her mind. There was no joy in the face of John Mark, only a deep and settled pain. You see, he said, with a smile of anguish, I've done it. I have bought the thing I love, and that, you know, is the last and deepest damnation. If another man had told me I was capable of such a thing, I'd have killed him on the spot. But now I have done it. I think I'll go to my room," she answered, her eyes on the floor. She made herself raise them to his, unless she wished to talk to me longer. She saw him shudder. If you can help it, he said, don't make me see the brand I've put on you. Don't, for heaven's sakes, cringe to me if you can help it. Very well, she said. He struck his clenched fist against his face. It's the price, he declared through his teeth, and I accept it. He spoke more to himself than to her. And then directly, will you let me walk up with you? Yes. He took her passive arm. Then went slowly, slowly up the stairs. For at each landing it seemed her strength gave out, and she had to pause for a brief rest. When she paused he spoke with difficulty, but with his heart in every word. You remember the old Greek fable-ruth? The story about all the pains and torments which flew out of Pandora's box? And how hope came out last? That blessed hope? And healed the wounds? Here, a moment after the blow has fallen, I am hoping again like a fool. I am hoping that I shall teach you to forget, or if I cannot teach you to forget, then I shall even make you glad of what you have done to-night. The door closed on her, and she was alone. Raising her head she found she was looking straight across the street to the lighted windows of the rooms of Ronyki Dune and Bill Gregg. While she watched she saw a silhouette of a man and a woman run to each other, saw them clasp in each other's arms. Ruth dropped to her knees, and buried her face in her hands. End of Chapter 24 CHAPTER XXV of Ronyki Dune This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Reading by Rowdy Delaney, Idaho, U.S.A. Ronyki Dune By Max Brande CHAPTER XXV Unhappy Freedom Once out in the street, Carolyn had cast one glance of terror over her shoulder at the towering façade of the house of John Mark. Then she fled, as fast as her feet would carry her, right across the street and up the steps of the rooming-house and frantically up the stairs a panic behind her. Presently she was tapping hurriedly and loudly on the door, while with her head turned she watched for the coming of some swift avenging figure from behind. John Mark had given her up, but it was impossible for John Mark to give up anything. When would he strike? That was the only question. Then the door opened. The very light that poured into the dim hall was like the reach of a friendly hand, and there was Ronyki Dune laughing for pure joy. And there was Bill Gregg's haggard face as if he saw a ghost. I told you, Bill, and here she is. After that she forgot Ronyki Dune and the rest of the world except Gregg, as he took her in his arms and asked over and over. How did it come about? How did it come about? And over and over she answered. It was Ronyki, Bill. We owe everything to him and Ruth Tolliver. This brought from Ronyki a sudden question. And what of her? What of Ruth Tolliver? She wouldn't come? It pricked the bubble of Carolyn's happiness, that question. Staring at the frowning face of Ronyki Dune, her heart for a moment misgave her. How could she tell the truth? How could she admit her cowardice which had accepted Ruth's great sacrifice? No, she said at last. Ruth stayed. Talk about that afterward, Ronyki, pleaded Bill Gregg. I got about a million things to say to Carolyn. I'm going to talk now, said Ronyki gravely. They something queer about the way Carolyn said that. Will you let me ask a few more questions? Won't you wait, asked Carolyn, in an agony of remorse and shame? Won't you wait till the morning? Ronyki Dune walked up and down the room for a moment. He had no wish to break in upon the long-delayed happiness of these two. While he paced he heard Bill Gregg saying that they must start at once and put three thousand miles between them and that devil, John Mark. And he heard Carolyn say that there was no longer anything to fear. The claws of the devil had been trimmed, and he would not reach out after them. He had promised. At that, Ronyki whirled sharply on them again. What made him change his mind about you, he asked. He isn't the sort to change his mind without a pretty good reason. What bought him off? Nothing but a price would change him, I guess. And she had to admit it was Ruth. She paid the price, he asked harshly. How, Carolyn? She promised to marry him, Ronyki. The bitter truth was coming now and she cringed as she spoke it. The tall body of Ronyki Dune was trembling with excitement. She made that promise so that you could go free, Carolyn? No, no, exclaimed Bill Gregg. It's true, said the girl. We were about to leave together when John Mark stopped us. Ruth was coming with you, asked Ronyki? Yes. And when Mark stopped you, she offered herself an exchange for your freedom? Yes. Both she and Bill Gregg looked apprehensively at the face of Ronyki Dune, where a storm was gathering. But he restrained his anger with a mighty effort. She was going to cut away from that life and start over? Is that straight, Carolyn? Yes. Get the police, Ronyki, said Bill Gregg. They sure can't hold no woman again her will in this country. Don't you see that it is her will, asked Ronyki Dune darkly? Ain't she made a bargain? Don't you think she's ready and willing to live up to it? Sure she is, son, and she'll go the limit to do what she said she'll do. You stay here, I'll go out and tackle the job. Then I go too, said Bill Gregg stoutly. You've been through enough for me. Here's where I go as far as you go. I'm ready when you're ready, Ronyki. It was so just an offer that even Carolyn dared not cry out against it, but she sat with her hands clasped close together, her eyes begging Ronyki to let the offer go. Ronyki Dune nodded slowly. I hoped you'd say that, Bill, he said. But I'll tell you what. You stay here for a while, and I'll trot down and take a look around and try to figure out what's to be done. Can't just walk up and wrap at the front door of the house, you know? And I can't go in the way I went before. No doubt about that. I got to step light. So let me go out and look around, will you, Bill? Then I'll come back, and I'll tell you what I've decided. On the street Ronyki looked dubiously across at the opposite house. He realized that more than an hour had passed since Carolyn had left John Mark's house. What had happened to Ruth in that hour? The front of the house was lighted in two or three windows, but those lights could tell him nothing. From inside the house he could locate Ruth's room again, but from the outside it was impossible for him to do it. The whole house, of course, was thoroughly guarded against his attack, for attack they knew he would. The only question was from what angle he would deliver his assault. In that case, of course, the correct thing was to find the unexpected means. But how could he out-guess a band of trained criminals? They would have foreseen far greater subtleties than any he could attempt. They would be so keen that the best way to take them by surprise might be simply to step up to the house, ring the doorbell, and enter, if the door were opened. The idea intrigued him at once. They might be, and no doubt were, guarding every obscure cellar window, every skylight. To trick them was impossible. But it was always possible to bluff any man, even John Mark's and his followers. Straight across the street marched Ronyki Dune, and up the steps of the opposite house, and rang the bell. There was a timid ring, but two sharp pressures, such as would announce a man in a hurry, a brisk man who did not wish to be delayed. He took only one precaution, pulling his hat down so the black shadow of the brim would fall like a robber's mask across the upper part of his face. Then he waited, as a man both hurried, and certain, turning a little away from the door, at an angle which still more effectually concealed him, while he tapped impatiently with one foot. Finally the door opened, after he made certain that someone had looked out at him from the side window. How much had they seen? How much had they guessed, as to the identity of this night visitor? The softness of the opening of the door, and the whisper of the wind, as it rushed into the hall beyond, were like a hiss of threatening secrecy. And then, from the shadow of that meager opening, a voice was saying, Who's there? The very caution, however, reassured Ronyki Dune. And they suspected that it was he they would either have kept the door definitely closed, or else they would have flung it wide, and boldly invited him in. I want to see Harry Morgan, quick, he said, and stepped close to the door. At this bold approach the door closed like the winking of an eye, until it was barely an inch ajar. Keep back, came the warning, through the small opening. Keep clear, beau! Damn nation! exclaimed Ronyki. What's the idea? I want Harry, I tell you. Harry ain't here. Just hand me that piece of paper over there, and I'll write out the message, said Ronyki, pointing to the little table just beyond the doorman. The latter turned with a growl, and the moment he was halfway around, Ronyki Dune sprang in. His arm fastened around the head of the unlucky water, and passing down his throat crushed it in a stranglehold. His other hand, darting out in strong precision, caught the right arm of the water at the wrist, and jerked it back between his shoulders. In an instant he was effectively gagged and bound by those two movements, and Ronyki Dune, pausing for an instant to make sure of himself, heard footsteps in the hall above. It was too late to do what he hoped, yet he must take his prize out of the way. For that purpose he half carried, half dragged his victim through the doorway and into the adjoining room. There he deposited him on the floor, as near death as life. Relaxing his hold on the man's throat, he whipped out his colt and tucked the cold muzzle under the chin of the other. Now don't stir, he said. Don't whisper. Don't move a muzzle. Partner I'm Ronyki Dune. Now talk quick. Where's Ruth Tolliver? Upstairs. In her room? Yes. Ronyki started to rise. Then for there had been a slight fraction of a second's pause before the victim answered, he changed his mind. I ought to smash your head open for that lie, he said, at a random guess. Tell me straight now. Where's Ruth Tolliver? How can I tell if she ain't in her room? Look, said Ronyki, if anyone comes into that hall before you've told me where the girl is. You're dead, partner. That's straight. Now talk. She's with Mark. And where's he? He'd kill me if I tell you. Not if I find him before he finds you. His killing days are ended. Where's Mark and the girl? Has he run off with her? Yes. They're married, asked Ronyki Dune, feeling that it might be a wild goose chase after all. I don't know. But where are they? Heaven help me, then. I'll tell you. He began to whisper swiftly, incoherently, his voice almost shaking to silence as he reached the heart of his narrative. End of Chapter 25 Chapter 26 of Ronyki Dune This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Reading by Rowdy Delaney, Idaho, USA Ronyki Dune By Max Brand Chapter 26 Hills and Sea The summer house lay in a valley between two hills, resting on the lawn before it, Ruth Tolliver lay with her head pillowed back between her hands, and the broad brim of her straw hat flopped down to shade her eyes. She could look up on either side of the sweep of grass, with the wind twinkling in it, grass that rolled smoothly up to the gentle blue sky beyond. On the one hand it was very near to her, that film of blue, but to her right the narrow, bright heads of a young poplar grove pushed up beyond the hilltop, and that made the sky fall back an immeasurable distance. Not very much variety in that landscape, but there was an infinite variety in the changes of the open air silence. Overtones, all of them, but what a range! If she found that what was immediately overhead, and beside her was too bland, if she wereied of that lovely drift of clouds across the sky, then she had only to raise herself upon one elbow, and look down to the broad, white band of earth and the startling blue of the ocean beyond. She was a little way up the hills, to be sure, but in spite of her elevation, when she looked out toward the horizon it seemed that the sea was hollowed like a great bowl, that the horizon wave was apt at any moment to roll in upon the beach, and overwhelm her among the hills. Not a very great excitement for such a girl as Ruth Tolliver, to be sure. Particularly, when the faint crease between her eyes told of a perpetual worry, and a strain under which she was now living. She was trying to lose herself in forgetfulness, in this open, drowsy climate. Behind her a leisurely step came down one of the garden paths. It brought her to attention at once. A shadow passed over her face, and instantly she was sitting up, alert, and excited. John Mark sat down cross-legged beside her, a very changed John Mark indeed. He wore white trousers and low white shoes, with a sackcoat of blue, a cool-looking man even on this sultry day. The cane, which he insisted upon at all times, he planted between his knees to help in the process of lowering himself to the ground. He now hooked the head over his shoulder, pushed back the hat and smiled at the girl. Everything is finished, he said calmly. How well you look, Ruth! That hair of yours against the green grass? Everything is finished. The license and the clergyman will arrive within the hour. She shrugged her shoulders. As a rule she tried at least to be politely acquiescent, but now and then something in her revolted. But John Mark was an artist in choosing remarks and moments which should not be noticed. Apparently her silence made not even a ripple on the calm surface of his assurance. He had been so perfectly diplomatic, indeed, during the whole affair, that she had come to respect and fear him more than ever. Even in that sudden midnight departure from the house in Beekman Place, in that unaccountable panic which made him decide to flee the vicinity of Ronnicky Dune, even in that critical moment he made sure there was a proper chaperone with them. During all her years with him he had always taken meticulous care that she should be above the slightest breath of suspicion. A strange thing when the work to which he had assigned her was considered. Well, he asked, now that you've seen, how do you like it? If you wish, we'll move to-day after the ceremony. It's only a temporary halting-place, or it can be a more or less permanent home, just as you please. It rather amused her to listen to this deprecatory manner of speech. Of course she could direct him in small matters, but in such a thing as a choice of residence she knew that in the end he would absolutely have his own way. I don't know, she said, I like silence just now. I'll stay here as long as you're contented." He pressed her hand very lightly. It was the only time he had caressed her since they left New York, and his hand left hers instantly. Of course, he explained, I'm glad to be at a distance for a time, a place to which we can't be followed. By Ronnickie Dune her question had sprung impulsively from her lips. Exactly. From the first he had been amazingly frank in confessing his fear of the Westerner. Who else in the world would I care about for an instant? Where no other has crossed me once successfully, he has done so twice. That, you know, makes me begin to feel that my fate is wrapped up in the young devil. He shuttered at the thought as if a cold wind had struck him. I think you need not worry about him, said the girl faintly. I suppose by this time he is in such a condition that he will never worry another soul in the world. The other turned and looked at her for a long grave moment. You think he attempted to break into the house? And didn't you expect the same thing? Why else did you leave New York? I confess that was my idea, but I think no harm has come to him. The chances are nine out of ten, at least, that he has not been badly hurt. She turned away, her hands clenched hard. On my honour, he insisted with some emotion. I gave directions that, if he made an attack, he was not to be harmed more than necessary to disarm him. Knowing that to disarm him would mean to kill him. Not at all. After all, he is not such a terrible fellow as that. Not at all, my dear. A blow? A shot might have dropped him, but unless it were followed by a second, he would not be killed. Single shots and single blows rarely kill, you know. She nodded more hopefully, and then her eyes turned with a wide question upon her companion. He answered it at once with the utmost frankness. You wonder why I gave such an order when I dread dune, when I so dread dune, when I so hardly want him out of my way forever. I'll tell you. If dune were killed, there would be a shadow between us at once. Not that I believe you love him, no, that cannot be. He may have touched your heart, but he cannot have convinced your head, and you are equal parts of brain and soul, my dear. Therefore you cannot love him. She controlled the faintest smile at the surety of his analysis. He could never escape the old conclusion that the girl must be in large part his own product. He could never keep from attributing to her his own motives. But just suppose, she said, that Ronycky Dune broke into your house, forced one of your men to tell him where we are, and then followed us at once. He would be about due to arrive now. What if all that happened? He smiled at her. If all that happened, you are quite right. He would be about due to arrive. I suppose being a westerner, the first thing he would do in the village would be to hire a horse to take him out here. And he would come galloping yonder, where you see the white road tossing over the hills. And what if he does come, she asked? Then said John Mark Gravely, he will indeed be in serious danger. It will be the third time that he has threatened me, and the third time, you've prepared even for his coming here, she asked, the thought tightening the muscles of her throat. When you have such a man as Ronycky Dune on your hands, he confessed, you have to be ready for anything. Yes, I have prepared. If he comes, he'll come by the straightest route, certain that we don't expect him. He'll run blindly into the trap. Yonder, you see where the two hills almost close over the road? Yonder is shorty Kruger behind the rocks, waiting and watching. A very good gunman is shorty. Know him? Yes, she said, shuddering, of course I know him. But even suppose that he passes Kruger, down there in the hollow where the road bends towards us. You can see Lefty himself. I wired him to come. There he is. Lefty asked the girl aghast? Lefty himself, said John Mark. You know how much I respect Ronycky Dune's fighting properties? Yes, Lefty himself, the great, the infallible Lefty. She turned her back on the white road which led from the village and faced the sea. If we are down here long enough, he said, I'll have a little wharf built inside that cove. You see, then we can bring up a motorboat and anchor it in there. Do you know much about boats? Almost nothing. That's true, but we'll correct it. Between you and me, if I had to choose between a boat and a horse, I don't know which I should two sharp detonations cut off his words. While he raised a startled hand for silence they remained staring at one another and the long faint echoes rolled across the hills. A revolver shot first far off, he said, and then a rifle shot. That metallic clang always means a rifle shot. He turned, and she turned with him. Covering their eyes from the white light of the sun, they peered at the distant road, where, as he pointed out, the two hills leaned together and left a narrow footing between. The miracle has happened, said John Mark, in a perfectly sober voice. It is Ronyki Dune. End of Chapter 26 Chapter 27 of Ronyki Dune This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. THE LAST STAND At the same moment she saw what his keener eye had discerned a moment before. A small trail of dust was blowing down the road, just below the place where the two hills leaned together. Under it was the dimly discernible, dust-veiled form of a horseman riding at full speed. Fate is against me, said John Mark, in his quiet way. Why should this daredevil be destined to hunt me? I can gain nothing by his death but your hate. And if he succeeds in breaking through Lefty, as he is broken through Kruger, even then he shall win nothing. I swear it. As he spoke, he looked at her in gloomy resolution, but the girl was on fire. Fear and joy were fighting in her face. In her ecstasy she was clinging to the man beside her. Think of it! Think of it! she exclaimed. He has done what I said he would do. Ah! I read your mind! Ronnicki Dune! Ronnicki Dune! Was there ever your like under the wide, wide sky? He's brushed Kruger out of the way. Not entirely, said John Mark, calmly. Not entirely, you see? As he spoke they heard again the unmistakable sound of a rifle-shot, and then another, and another, ringing from the place where the two hills leaned over the road. Its Kruger, declared John Mark, calmly, that chillerous idiot Dune apparently shot him, and didn't wait to finish him. Very clever on his part, but very sloppy. However, he seems to have wounded Kruger so badly that my gunman can't hit his mark. For Ronnicki Dune, if it were indeed he, was still galloping down the road, more and more clearly discernible while the rifle-firing behind him ceased. Of course that firing will alarm Lefty, went on John Mark, seeming to enjoy the spectacle before him, as if it were a thing from which he was entirely detached. And Lefty can make his choice. Kruger was his pal. If he wants to revenge the fall of Kruger, he may shoot from behind a tree. If not, he'll shoot from the open, and it will be an even fight. The terror of it all, the whole realization, sprang up in the girl. In a moment she was crying. Stop him, John. For heaven's sake, find a way to stop him. There is only one power that can turn the trick, I'm afraid, answered John Mark. That power is Lefty. If he shoots Lefty, he'll come straight toward us, on his way to the house, and if he sees you, if he sees me, he'll shoot me, of course, declared Mark. She stared at him. John, she said, I know you're brave, but you won't try to face him. I'm fairly expert with a gun, he added, but it is good of you to be concerned about me. I am concerned. More than concerned, John. A woman has premonitions, and I tell you I know, as well as I know I'm standing here, that if you face Ronyky Dune, you'll go down. You're right, replied Mark, I fear that I have been too much of a specialist, so I shall not face Dune. Then start for the house, and hurry. Run away, and leave you here? The cloud of dust and the figure of the rider in it were sweeping rapidly down the grove in the hollow where Lefty waited, and the girl was torn between three emotions. Joy at the coming of the adventurer. Fear for him. Terror at the thought of his meeting with Mark. It would be murder, John. I'll go with you if you'll start now. No, he said quietly, I won't run. Besides, it's impossible for him to take you for me. Impossible, she asked, what do you mean? When the time comes you'll see. Now he's nearly there, watch. The rider was in full view now, driving his horse at a stretching gallop. There was no doubt about the identity of the man. They could not make out his face, of course, at that distance, but something in the careless dash of his seat in the saddle, something about the slender, erect body cried out almost in words that it was Ronyky Dune. A moment later the first tree tops of the grove brushed across him, and he was lost from view. The girl buried her face in her hands, and then she looked up. By this time he must have reached Lefty, and yet there was no sound of shooting. Had Lefty found discretion the better part of Valor and let him go by unhindered? But in that case the swift gallop of the horse would have borne the rider through the grove by this time. What's happened, she asked John Mark, what can have happened down there? A very simple story, said Mark. Lefty, as I feared, has been more chivalrous than wise. He has stepped out into the road and ordered Ronyky to stop, and Ronyky has stopped. Now he is sitting in his saddle, looking down at Lefty, and they are holding a parley. Very like two nights of the old days, exchanging compliments before they cut each other's throats. But even as he spoke, there was the sound of a gun exploding, and then silence. One shot. One revolver shot, said John Mark, in his deadly calm voice. It is, as I said, they drew at a signal, and one of them proved far the faster. It was a dead shot, for only one was needed to end the battle. One of them is standing, the other lies dead under the shadow of that grove, my dear. Which is it? Which is it? asked the girl in a whisper. Then she threw up her hands with a joyous cry. Ronyky doon! Ronyky! Ronyky doon! A horseman was breaking into view through the grove, and now he rode into full view below them. Unmistakably, Ronyky doon! Even at that distance, he heard the cry, and throwing up his hand with a shout that tingled faintly up to them. He spurred straight up the slope toward them. Ruth Tolliver started forward, but a hand closed over her wrist with a biting grip, and brought her suddenly to a halt. She turned to find John Mark, an automatic hanging loosely in his other hand. His calm had gone, and in his dead white face the eyes were rolling and gleaming, and his set lips trembled. You were right, he said. I cannot face him. Not that I fear death, but there would be a thousand damn nations in it if I died knowing that he would have you after my eyes were closed. I told you he could not take you. Not living, my dear. Dead, he may have us both. John, said the girl, staring and bewildered. In the name of pity, John! In the name of all goodness you have showed me, don't do it! He laughed wildly. I am about to lose the one thing on earth I have ever cared for, and still I can smile. I am about to die by my own hand, and still I can smile. For the last time, will you stand up like your old brave self? Mercy, she cried, in Heaven's name. Then have it as you are, he said, and she saw the sun flash on the steel as he raised the gun. She closed her eyes, waited, heard the distant drumming of hooves on the turf of the hillside. Then she caught the report of a gun. But it was strangely far away, that sound. She thought at first that the bullet must have numbed her as it struck her. Presently a shooting pain would pass through her body, then death. Opening her bewildered eyes, she beheld John Mark, staggering. The automatic lying on the ground, his hands clutching at his breast. Then, glancing to one side, she saw the form of Ronyki Doon, riding as fast as spur would urge his horse, the long colt balanced in his hand. That then was the shot she had heard, a long range chance shot when he saw what was happening at the top of the hill. So swift was Doon's coming, that by the time she reached her feet again he was beside her, and they leaned over John Mark together. As they did so, Mark's eyes opened, then they closed again as if with pain. When he looked up again his sight was clear. As I expected, he said, dryly, I see your faces together, both together, and actually wasting sympathy on me. Tush, tush, so rich in happiness that you can waste time on me. John, the girl said, on her knees and weeping beside him, you know I have always cared for you, but as a brother, John, and not— Really, he said calmly, you are wasting emotion, I am not going to die, and I wish you would put a bandage around me, and send for some of the men at the house to carry me up there. That bullet of yours, by Harry, a very pretty snap shot, just raked across my breast, as far as I can make out. Perhaps it broke a bone or two, but that's all. Yes, I am to have the pleasure of living. His smile was a ghastly thing, and growing suddenly weak as if for the first time in his life he allowed his indomitable spirit to relax. His head fell to one side, and he lay in a limp faint. CHAPTER XXVIII Hope Deferred Time in six months brought the year to the early spring. That time when even the mountain desert forgets its sternness for a month or two. Six months had not made Bill Gregg rich from his mind, but it had convinced him, on the contrary, that a man with a wife must have a sure income, even if it be a small one. He squatted on a small piece of land, gathered a little herd, and, having thrown up a four-room shack, he and Carolyn lived as happily as a king and a queen. Not that the domains were very large, but from their hut up on the hill they could look over the fine sweep of the country, which did not all belong to them, to be sure, but which they constantly promised themselves should one day be theirs. It was the dull period of the afternoon, the quiet, waiting period which comes between three and four o'clock, and the sunset, and Bill and his wife sat in the shadow of the mighty silver spruce before their door. The great tree was really more of a home for them than the roof they had built to sleep under. Presently Carolyn stood up and pointed. "'She's coming,' she said, and looking down the hillside, she smiled in anticipation. The rider below them, winding up the trail, looked up and waved, then urged her horse to a full gallop for the short remnant of the distance before her. It was Ruth Tolliver who swung down from the saddle, laughing and joyous from the ride. A strangely changed Ruth she was. She had turned to a brown beauty in the wind and the sun of the west, a more buoyant and more graceful beauty. She had accepted none of the offers of John Mark, but leaving her old life entirely behind her, as Ronyki Dune had suggested, she went west to make her own living. With Carolyn and Bill Gregg she had found a home, and her work was teaching the valley school half a dozen miles away. Any mail, Bill asked, for she had passed the distant group of mailboxes on her way to the school. At that the face of the girl darkened. One letter, she said, and I want you to read it aloud, Carolyn. Then we'll put our heads together and see if we can make out what it means. She handed the letter to Carolyn, who shook it out. It's from Ronyki, she exclaimed. It's from Ronyki, said Ruth Tolliver gravely, so gravely that the other two raised their heads and cast silent glances at her. Carolyn read aloud. Dear Ruth, I figure that I am overdue back at Bill's by about a month. By two months, corrected Ruth soberly, and I've got to apologize to them and you for being so late. Matter of fact, I started out right pronto to get back on time, but something turned up. You see, I went broke. Carolyn dropped the letter with an exclamation. Do you think he's gone back to gambling, Ruth? No, said the girl, he gave me his promise never to play for money again, and a promise from Ronyki Dune is as good as minted gold. It sure is, agreed Bill Gregg. Carolyn went on with the letter. I went broke because Pete Darnley was in a terrible hole, having fallen out with his old man, and Pete needed a lift. Which of course I gave him pronto, Pete being a fine gent. There was an exclamation of impatience from Ruth Tolliver. Isn't that like Ronyki? Isn't that typical? I'm afraid it is, said the other girl, with a touch of sadness. Dear old Ronyki, but such a wild man. She continued in the reading. But I've got a scheme on now, by which I'm sure I'll get a stake and come back, and then you and me can get married, as soon as you feel like saying the word. The scheme is finding a lost mine. A lost mine? shouted Gregg, his practical, miner's mind, revolting at this idea. My guns! Is Ronyki plum-nutty? That's all he's got to do, just find a lost mine? Well, if that ain't plenty, may I never see a yearling again. Find a lost mine, went on Carolyn, her voice trembling between tears and laughter, and sink a new shaft a couple of hundred feet to where the old vein, sink a shaft a couple of hundred feet, said Bill Gregg, and him broke, where'll he get the money to sink the shaft? When we began to take out the pay-dirt, went on Carolyn, I'll either come or send for you, and— Hush up! said Bill Gregg softly. Carolyn looked up and saw the tears streaming down the face of Ruth Tolliver. I'm so sorry, poor dear! She whispered, going to the other girl. But Ruth Tolliver shook her head. I'm only crying, she said, because it's so delightfully, and beautifully, and terribly like Ronikey, to write such a letter, and tell of such plans. He's given away a lot of money to help some spin-thrift, and now he's gone to get more by finding a lost mine. But do you see what it means, Carolyn? It means that he doesn't love me, really. Don't love you, asked Bill Gregg? Then he's a plum-fool. Why—hush, Bill!—put in, Carolyn! You mustn't say that, she added to Ruth. Of course you have reason to be sad about it, and angry, too. Sad, perhaps, but not angry, said Ruth Tolliver. How could I ever be really angry with Ronikey? Hasn't he given me a chance to live a clean life? Hasn't he given me this big, free, open West to live in? And what would I do without Ronikey? What would have happened to me in New York? Oh, no. Not angry. But I've simply waked up, Carolyn. I now see that Ronikey never cared particularly about me. He was simply in love with the danger of my position. As a matter of fact, I don't think he ever told me in so many words that he loved me. I simply took it for granted, because he did such things for me as even a man in love would not have done. After the danger and uniqueness were gone, Ronikey simply lost interest. Don't say such things, exclaimed Carolyn. It's true, said Ruth steadily. If he really wanted to come, well, did you ever hear of anything Ronikey wanted that he didn't get? Except money, suggested Bill Gregg. Well, he even gets that, but he mostly gives it away pretty pronto. He'd have come like a bullet from a gun if he really wanted me, said Ruth. No, the only way I can bring Ronikey is to surround myself with new dangers, terrible dangers, make myself a lost cause again. Then Ronikey would come laughing and singing, eager as ever. Oh, I think I know him. And what are you going to do, asked Carolyn? The only thing I can do, said the other girl, I'm going to wait. Far, far north, two horsemen came at the same time to a splitting of the trail they rode. The elder, bearded man, pointed ahead. That's the roundabout way, he said, but it's sure the only safe way. We'll travel there, Ronikey. Eh? Ronikey Dune lifted his head, and his bay mare lifted her head at the same instant. The two were strangely in touch with one another. I don't know, he said. I ain't heard of anybody taking the shortcut for years, not since the big slide in the canyon. But I got a feeling I'd sort of like to try it. Save a lot of time, and give us a lot of fun. Unless it breaks our necks. Sure, said Ronikey, but you don't enjoy having your neck safe and sound, unless you take a chance of breaking it, once in a while. END OF CHAPTER XXVIII This concludes Ronikey Dune by Max Brand. Goodbye, Rowdy Delaney, Idaho, USA, April 2008.