however.”
“You ain’t interested in that job, then?”
“Why should it interest me?” said Peter. “What did the Buttricks get from you?”
“They got two hundred a month…apiece!”
“And you’d pay me the salary of both of them?”
“I’d pay you three hundred a month, kid, of the easiest money that you ever laid your eyes on.”
“Thanks,” Peter said. “In the meantime, just unbuckle that belt and hand it to me.”
There was a groan from Jarvin. “You’ll hang for this,” he said.
“Unless I go to work for you,” corrected Peter.
“Rob me and then work for me? No, by heaven!” cried Jarvin.
“I’ve done my day’s work,” Peter stated as he gestured over his shoulder in the starlight to indicate that that work lay behind them in the road. “And now I collect the profits, if you please. Hello! There goes your driver, I think.”
A scooting shadow against the pale stubble field, the driver darted to the side, leaving his precarious task behind him.
“Cowards and sneaks, all of them,” fat Jarvin sneered. “And here I am left alone.”
“You didn’t try to get out your gun,” said Peter.
“Because I don’t wear one.”
“You don’t wear one!”
“The surest way in the world to get yourself killed, if you live the sort of a life that I follow, is to wear a gun and know how to use it well,” said Jarvin. “No, son, I never carry a gun. My worst enemies…and I got plenty of those…know that I don’t go heeled. Here’s the belt. Count that money over and then ask your conscience if you can afford to keep it. Honest money like that.”
“What’s Debney’s share of this honest money?” asked Peter. “And will you go to Hades to pay it to him?”
“Debney? Debney?” repeated the fat man. “Well, it looks like you’re not just a plain hold-up artist. You’re a historian, too, and you know all about the way poor Sam fell down from the rocks.”
“Yes, there was no luck for poor Sam, as you say,” Peter replied.
“None in the world, lad. None in the world. Tell me, then, if you’re through with me? Or do you want to go through my pockets?”
“You’re too fat to keep much in your trouser pockets,” said Peter, reasoning aloud. “I’ll simply look through your coat, if you’ll hand that to me.”
Jarvin stripped off the coat with another groan. “Let me tell you something, young man…I would pay you the full double salary that the two Buttricks have been getting. That’s four hundred dollars a month, and all of your keep, besides a chance to make a neat little slice of coin in other ways. The Buttricks squeezed about five thousand apiece out of me.”
Peter blinked, in spite of himself. “Ten thousand dollars,” he said. “That’s a very great deal, Jarvin. As a matter of fact, I may come back to talk to you about this, at the quarry. What’s in this coat that you hate to give it up so badly?”
“Nothing but bad luck,” said Jarvin. And he handed the coat across, but at the same time it seemed to Peter that something flashed dimly down from the seat and dropped into the road so lightly that it made no sound. Only a faint flash of dust in the star shine. Peter caught the coat and reined his horse back.
“I’ll call on you later, Jarvin,” he said. “Good night and better luck to you next time.”
“You young hound!” wailed Jarvin.
The wagon rolled him on, and the great, clumsy bulk of its load rocked onward, outlined by the horizon stars.
Chapter Eleven
Then Peter rode in and found the thing that he wanted, without so much as dismounting from his horse. It was a little streak in the dust; swinging to one side, he scooped up a wallet. He pinched it, and a crisp rustling came forth to greet his ears. Peter could not help smiling through the darkness.
He turned his mustang from the road, jogging across the fields and into a clump of trees. There he lighted a few handfuls of twigs, and by that flickering illumination he examined
“You ain’t interested in that job, then?”
“Why should it interest me?” said Peter. “What did the Buttricks get from you?”
“They got two hundred a month…apiece!”
“And you’d pay me the salary of both of them?”
“I’d pay you three hundred a month, kid, of the easiest money that you ever laid your eyes on.”
“Thanks,” Peter said. “In the meantime, just unbuckle that belt and hand it to me.”
There was a groan from Jarvin. “You’ll hang for this,” he said.
“Unless I go to work for you,” corrected Peter.
“Rob me and then work for me? No, by heaven!” cried Jarvin.
“I’ve done my day’s work,” Peter stated as he gestured over his shoulder in the starlight to indicate that that work lay behind them in the road. “And now I collect the profits, if you please. Hello! There goes your driver, I think.”
A scooting shadow against the pale stubble field, the driver darted to the side, leaving his precarious task behind him.
“Cowards and sneaks, all of them,” fat Jarvin sneered. “And here I am left alone.”
“You didn’t try to get out your gun,” said Peter.
“Because I don’t wear one.”
“You don’t wear one!”
“The surest way in the world to get yourself killed, if you live the sort of a life that I follow, is to wear a gun and know how to use it well,” said Jarvin. “No, son, I never carry a gun. My worst enemies…and I got plenty of those…know that I don’t go heeled. Here’s the belt. Count that money over and then ask your conscience if you can afford to keep it. Honest money like that.”
“What’s Debney’s share of this honest money?” asked Peter. “And will you go to Hades to pay it to him?”
“Debney? Debney?” repeated the fat man. “Well, it looks like you’re not just a plain hold-up artist. You’re a historian, too, and you know all about the way poor Sam fell down from the rocks.”
“Yes, there was no luck for poor Sam, as you say,” Peter replied.
“None in the world, lad. None in the world. Tell me, then, if you’re through with me? Or do you want to go through my pockets?”
“You’re too fat to keep much in your trouser pockets,” said Peter, reasoning aloud. “I’ll simply look through your coat, if you’ll hand that to me.”
Jarvin stripped off the coat with another groan. “Let me tell you something, young man…I would pay you the full double salary that the two Buttricks have been getting. That’s four hundred dollars a month, and all of your keep, besides a chance to make a neat little slice of coin in other ways. The Buttricks squeezed about five thousand apiece out of me.”
Peter blinked, in spite of himself. “Ten thousand dollars,” he said. “That’s a very great deal, Jarvin. As a matter of fact, I may come back to talk to you about this, at the quarry. What’s in this coat that you hate to give it up so badly?”
“Nothing but bad luck,” said Jarvin. And he handed the coat across, but at the same time it seemed to Peter that something flashed dimly down from the seat and dropped into the road so lightly that it made no sound. Only a faint flash of dust in the star shine. Peter caught the coat and reined his horse back.
“I’ll call on you later, Jarvin,” he said. “Good night and better luck to you next time.”
“You young hound!” wailed Jarvin.
The wagon rolled him on, and the great, clumsy bulk of its load rocked onward, outlined by the horizon stars.
Chapter Eleven
Then Peter rode in and found the thing that he wanted, without so much as dismounting from his horse. It was a little streak in the dust; swinging to one side, he scooped up a wallet. He pinched it, and a crisp rustling came forth to greet his ears. Peter could not help smiling through the darkness.
He turned his mustang from the road, jogging across the fields and into a clump of trees. There he lighted a few handfuls of twigs, and by that flickering illumination he examined
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