Ronicky Doones Treasure | Page 4

gone hungry for four years?"
"No."
"When you was sick, two years back, were you took care of?"
"Sure."
"What did you have when the chief picked you up?"

"Nothing."
"All right. You were down to zero. He picked you up. He gave you a
chance to live on the fat. All you got to do in return is to ride with him
once in six months and to promise never to leave the band. Why?
Because he knows that if ever a gent shakes clear of it he'll be tempted
to start talking some day, and a mighty little talk would settle the hash
of all of us. That's the why of it! He's a genius, Moon is. How long
d'you think most long riders last?"
"I dunno. They get bumped off before long."
"Sure they do. Know why? Because the leaders have always kept their
men together in a bunch most of the time. Moon seen that. What does
he do? He gets a picked lot together. He gets a big money scheme all
planned. Then he calls in his men. Some of 'em come fifty miles. Some
of 'em live a hundred miles away. They all come. They make a dash
and do the work. Soon's it's done they scatter again. And the posse that
takes the tracks has five or six different trails to follow instead of one.
Result? They get all tangled up. Jack Moon has been working twenty
years and never been caught once! And he'll work twenty years more,
son, and never be caught. Because why? Because he's a genius! Steady
up! Who's that?"
Straight through the entrance to the mow came two riders.
"Silas Treat and the chief himself," said Lang.
What Ronicky Doone saw were two formidable fellows. One, mounted
on a great roan horse, was a broad-shouldered man with a square-cut
black beard which rolled halfway down his chest. The other was
well-nigh as large, and when he came into the inner circle of the
firelight Ronicky saw one of those handsome, passionless faces which
never reveal the passage of years. Jack Moon, according to Baldy, had
been a leader in crime for twenty years, and according to that estimate
he must be at least forty years old; but a casual glance would have
placed him closer to thirty-three or four. He and his companion now
reined their horses beside the fire and raised their hands in silent

greeting. The black-bearded man did not speak. The leader, however,
said:
"Who started that fire?"
"My idea," confessed Baldy. "Matter of fact, we both had the same idea.
Didn't seem anything wrong about starting a fire and getting warm and
dry."
"I seen that fire a mile away," said the leader gloomily. "It was a fool
idea."
"But they's nobody else within miles."
"Ain't there? Have you searched all through the barn?"
"Why -- no."
"How d'you know somebody didn't come here?"
"But who'd be apt to come this way?"
"Look at those cinders over there. That shows that somebody lately has
been here and started a fire. If they come here once, why not again?"
"I didn't notice that place," said Baldy regretfully. "Sure looks like I've
been careless. But I'll give the barn a search now."
"Only one place to look," said Jack Moon, "and that's behind that chunk
of the roof where it's fallen down yonder."
"All right!" The other nodded and started straight for the hiding place
of Ronicky Doone.
The latter reached behind him and patted the nose of the mare, Lou, in
sign that she must still preserve the utmost silence. Then he drew his
revolver. There was no question about what would happen if he were
discovered. He had been in a position to overhear too many
incriminating things. Unlucky Baldy, to be sure, would be an easy prey.

But the other three? Three to one were large odds in any case, and
every one of these men was formidable.
Straight to the opening came Baldy and he peered in, though he
remained at a distance of five or six paces. Ronicky Doone poised his
gun, delayed the shot, and then frowned in wonder. Baldy had turned
and was sauntering slowly back toward his companions.
"Nothing there," he said to the chief, as he approached.
Ronicky hardly believed his ears, but a moment of thought explained
the mystery. It was pitch dark behind that screening wall, and the
darkness was rendered doubly thick by Baldy's probable conviction that
there must be nothing to see behind the fallen roof section. He had
come there prepared to find nothing, and he had found the sum of his
expectations and no more.
"Sure there ain't?" and Jack Moon nodded. "Which don't mean that you
wasn't a fool to light a fire