But at last his suffering came to an end.
"I'm going to send you with a message to the Fort," exclaimed Rogers, suddenly, as he stopped the horse. "That is, I'm going to start you with a message. Whether you live to deliver it is another matter," he added, grimly. "However, if anything happens to you, the message will be probably found, because within three hours you ought to be on a well traveled trail."
In amazement, the scout listened to his words, then felt something being thrust under the cords that bound his arms.
As this motion ceased, there ensued an absolute silence, then a resounding slap rang out and Shaw felt his mount leap forward—whither, he did not know.
And as his horse dashed ahead, Rogers mocking laugh rang in his ears.
Diabolical, indeed, was the plan the terrible outlaw had adopted.
Absolutely helpless, even his powers of speech and sight cut off by a gag and bandage, and bound fast to a horse, the scout was sent at a gallop into the night. Should the animal stumble, he might be crushed to death. Unfamiliar with the trail, in the darkness the horse might step off a precipice or, should the animal take it into his head, he might wander among the foothills, browsing in the sweet grass while the man on his back, tortured by flies and mosquitoes, slowly went crazy from thirst and hunger.
Little, however, did Rogers reck what fate overtook the scout, though he hoped the horse would return to the Fort, finding his way by instinct, well knowing that the sight of the soldier, bound and wounded, would rouse the colonel to fury, while his crude note was intended to strike terror by its threats.
But not long did the outlaw have to gloat over his deviltry.
As he stood listening to the hoofbeats of the army horse grow fainter and fainter, his eyes wandered over the dim outlines of the mountains surrounding him.
Suddenly he saw a ball of flame shoot into the air from the hill directly ahead of him, followed almost immediately by other balls from right and left.
"Rocket signals!" exclaimed Rogers. "By the blood of old Barney! it won't do for me to delay getting to the Stockade. Judging from their rockets, the manhunters must be closing in on it. If I'm going to reach there at all, it must be to-night. I can never get through in the daytime."
Rose and the others also beheld the signals, and in the face of the danger all the girl's anger against the outlaw vanished.
"Oh, Red! Did you see those rockets?" she inquired, with her old time interest in his welfare, as he rejoined his anxious companions.
"Sure I saw 'em," he replied. "Couldn't very well help it—unless I was blindfolded, like the scout."
At the mention of the luckless man he had led away, the girl drew her breath sharply.
"What did you do to him?" she demanded.
"It's none of your business, but I don't mind telling you," responded Rogers, his anger at Rose apparently forgotten. "I sent him with a message to the Fort."
"But he'll never get there!" protested the girl.
"Why not?"
"The horse doesn't know the way."
"Never you worry. An army horse will always find his way back to his post—provided nothing happens to him."
"But, if he doesn't go quickly, the man may die!" gasped Rose, in horror.
"So much the better. It'll give more force to my terms."
At this announcement that the desperado had not only sent a message to the Fort, but had dictated conditions, the others were amazed.
"What in the world did you say?" queried the girl, voicing the curiosity of the rest.
"Not much."
"But what?"
"Say, you're asking a good many questions, did you know it?" demanded Rogers.
His tone, however, indicated that he was not displeased and so Rose persisted.
"How can I help it since you won't tell without my asking?" she returned.
"If you ain't just like old Barney," mused the bandit, smiling at the girl good naturedly. "I've seen Barney ready to shoot a man down, then something would excite his curiosity, and he'd forget what he was holding his guns for. Many a time he——"
"Never mind about daddy. What did you say in your message?" interrupted Rose, impatiently.
"But it was about your daddy."
"About daddy? Oh, Red, tell me." Then a shrewd thought flashed into her mind and she added: "You're wasting valuable time teasing me."
The words produced the desired effect upon the bandit, recalling him, as they did, to the danger of his position.
"I guess it would be better for me if we stayed mad," he rejoined. "I forget everything when I'm talking to you, Rosie."
"Then I won't say another word to you,ever, unless you tell me what message you sent to the Fort," pouted the girl, aware that the breech between them had been healed.
"Oh, it was nothing much. I just told the colonel I'd come back to keep the pledge I made to Barney the night he was killed, adding that I had two more of his men beside the messenger, I was keeping so's he'd behave. Oh, yes, and I told him if he didn't get a safe conduct for you and leave it at old man Quint's before to-day week, I'd run down and burn up his old Fort."
In contemplation of the effect such a message from the man for whom his troops were scouring the "Bad Lands" would have upon their choleric colonel, the scouts forgot the precariousness of their position.
"But old turkey gobler won't do it," exclaimed Rose, with the evident wish of being contradicted.
"No-o. I don't suppose he will," admitted the outlaw, reluctantly. "But it will give me a chance to make 'em sit-up and take notice. It'll show 'em they've got some job on their hands to catch me when I can run through their lines, call at old man Quint's and get back again."
"Nobody with any sense would try it," grunted Pedro. "What would become of Rosie and me if you got caught? You ought to think of others besides yourself when you're planning these daredevil raids."
"That's just what I am doing," retorted Rogers. "Didn't I tell you I asked the colonel for a safe conduct for Rosie? If I can only get it, she can go to Old Mex. and you can go where you please."
"And where'll you go?" demanded Pedro, suspiciously.
"I? Oh, I'll just carry out my pledge and then travel for my health."
The matter-of-fact manner in which the outlaw, who was, even as he spoke, being hunted by hundreds of men, talked of eluding his pursuers and fulfilling his promise, gave the scouts an idea of his absolute fearlessness which they could not but admire, while at the same time his contempt for the Service galled them.
The girl, however, received Red's words in silence.
"What is the pledge you made to daddy?" she suddenly demanded.
"Something that doesn't concern you, Rosie."
"But itdoes. I don't see why you should run such risks of being captured, now you're safe, just on account of a promise.Pleasetell me what it is. I'm Barney's daughter, and as such—if it seems foolish—I can absolve you from your pledge."
Though they had known that the outlaw had made some sort of promise to his pal as he lay dying in his arms, neither Rose nor Pedro were aware of its exact nature. Moreover, the constant reference to it since their capture had whetted the curiosity of the scouts.
Consequently it was with keenest eagerness the four listened for the bandit's answer.
"It's generous of you, Rosie, very," he finally declared. "But Red Rogers never broke a promise yet!"
And with these words, the outlaw mounted his horse and, followed by Pedro with the prisoners, set out for the Old Stockade.
CHAPTER IX.
A DESPERATE RUSE.
Despite the fact that the man who spoke these words was a villain of the deepest die, wantonly cruel, who had not hesitated to take the life of man or woman when his doing so meant the saving of his own, there was an impressiveness about his refusal to foreswear his promise to his dead pal. And, respecting his attitude, regardless of how perverted it was, the girl made no further attempt to dissuade him from his purpose.
Indeed, no opportunity could she have found even had she desired to make the attempt.
As the horses bore them up the trail, the outlaws and their prisoners were able to obtain a better view of the surrounding hills and what they beheld amazed them.
The rocks seemed alive with scores of bobbing lights, giving to the mountains, huge in their outlines, the appearance of strange monsters with innumerable glowing eyes.
In silence, Rogers contemplated the spectacle.
And as he watched, there suddenly leaped into the air a great semi-circular wall of flame.
"By the blood of old Barney! there'll be hot work to-night," snarled the outlaw. "I'd calculated the manhunters would go into camp for the night and instead they're searching with fire and torches!"
If the activity of the troopers alarmed Rogers and his pals, it raised the spirits of the scouts to the highest pitch of exultation and excitement.
Just where the Old Stockade was located, neither Jennings nor Scotty knew, but so enormous was the semi-circle of flame they believed it would be impossible for Rogers to reach it and his next move made their belief certainty.
"You all stay here," he exclaimed. "I'm going to reconnoiter."
"Please don't, Red," pleaded the girl.
"But I must, Rosie. If it's a possible thing, we must get through to the Stockade, and the flare from those fires is so deceptive, I can't tell whether or not the trail is blocked unless I get close."
And without giving the girl the opportunity to make further protest, the outlaw disappeared in the darkness.
Yet scarcely did it seem to the anxious group that he had gone than he was back.
"Quick! Blindfold the prisoners!" he commanded. "We can't get to the Old Stockade. The fire wall runs clear round the loop, and when I turned 'Look out' rock, a score of lights were just starting up the very mountain we're on."
"Where are you going, back?" queried Rose, the only indication of the desperateness of their situation being in the tenseness of her voice.
"Don't talk direction," warned Rogers. "We're going to the 'Breathing Cave.' It's our only chance—and it's going to be lively work. Dismount and walk, Pedro. We can make better time and help the horses more."
Instantly the outlaw's commands were obeyed, and the dash for the "Breathing Cave" and temporary safety, at least, was begun.
Maddened to think they were powerless to disclose the whereabouts of Red Rogers, the scouts racked their brains for some expedient by which they could manage to retard the fugitives. But in vain. And to their helplessness was added the inability even to see how close their comrades were.
When the heliograph signal had been received at the Fort and by the three center columns that Lieutenant Fox and his men had not only picked up the outlaw's trail, but had actually got near enough to shoot at him, there was great excitement and jubilation among the troopers in the saddle and the men left at the Post.
What the colonel and civil authorities had feared it might take weeks, perhaps months, to do had been accomplished in less than forty-eight hours, and their joy was corresponding.
Instantly word was telegraphed to deputy marshals and sheriffs as to the general whereabouts of the fugitives, and they were urged to press into service every man who could carry a gun and ride to the foothills without mercy to their horses.
Assurances received that the request would be obeyed, the colonel ordered four hundred of the five hundred troopers left at the Fort to race to the scene, and he himself rode at their head.
Thoroughly aware of their quarry's resourcefulness, the colonel had struck upon the scheme of throwing out the great semi-circle of fire as an effective stop to the fugitives getting through to the North or West. The East needed no protection, for it was self-evident that the outlaw would not come out on the plains where capture was certain. Only the South—the direction from which the civil posses would come—would be left dark, for the reason that there were none among them who could read the heliograph signals. But the colonel hoped they would see the fires of his troopers and divining their purpose complete the circle.
Fox's men, by reason of their being on the scene, were ordered to the West, together with such of the middle columns as could be got there in time, while the men from the Fort were to take the Northern position.
Sparing neither themselves nor their mounts, the troopers rode, and the exchange of rockets Rogers had seen were the announcements that the men were in position, followed in due course by the signal to touch off the wall of fire.
To Rogers and the girl, it seemed as though the torch-bearing troopers must have wings, so rapidly did they advance, and the voices of the manhunters approaching from the direction of "Look Out" rock soon became audible, as they shouted encouragement to one another.
The course followed by the outlaw and his companions was almost due Southwest.
"Can we make it?" breathed Rose, as the shouts became more and more distinct.
"We'vegotto make it," returned Rogers.
"Don't talk that way. Tell me the truth," pleaded the girl.
"Fifteen minutes will tell the tale, Rosie. Keep your eye on Pedro. Don't let him lag."
In an agony of suspense, the girl kept her head turned toward the manhunters while she maintained a whispered outpouring of encouragement and exhortation at the bandit who was leading the prisoners.
Nearer and nearer, the fugitives approached the haven selected by the notorious outlaw.
"I reckon we're safe, Rosie," breathed Rogers, at last. "We have less than a hundred yards to go."
"Glory be!" returned the girl.
But their rejoicing was premature!
Barely had the words left the outlaw's lips than his keen eyes discerned the form of a man skulking ahead of them.
Suppressing an oath, Rogers bade Rose halt and dismount. Then, crouching low, he glided with wonderful swiftness upon the moving figure.
As he drew himself together for the leap that would bring him upon the man, Red's foot crunched a pebble.
Apprised by the sound that there was some one near at hand, for the outlaw had managed to hide his advance in the shadow of the brush and rocks lining the trail, the man stopped.
"Who goes there? Friend or foe?" he gasped.
"Friend," returned the outlaw, advancing boldly.
Relieved at the thought he had run across a fellow manhunter, the other exclaimed:
"I'm glad you're here. I've heard hoofbeats coming up this trail for several minutes. I don't believe any one else but Red and me knows of the 'Breathing Cave,' so I suppose it's him. By standing one on each side of the trail, we ought to get both him and Pedro.
"We'll shoot Pedro. But we won't get the ten thousand reward unless we get Red alive. I asked Sheriff Black to-day. When I found that out and heard where Red had been located and the plans the soldiers were making which would cut off his going to the Old Stockade, I hit the trail for the Cave. I'm——"
But the fellow never finished his sentence.
With a shocking oath, the terrible outlaw seized him by the throat and shook him as a terrier does a rat.
"You would betray me for a reward, would you, Faro Pete?" he hissed.
An instant Rogers waited until the shudder which ran through his captive's body told him the fellow had recognized him. Then he raised his pistol butt and crashed it down with terrific force upon his would-be betrayer's head.
Precious time had been lost, however, in listening to, Faro Pete—time that Red spared only because he wished to learn all he could as to the manhunters' plans and the reward. As soon as he had acquired this information, he had ended his former pal's life, and dropping the body beside the trail, the outlaw hastened back to his companions.
"There's some one over there to the North of us, I think," breathed Pedro, when his master rejoined him.
Pressed on all sides, Rogers and his comrades were, indeed, in desperate straits. One false move and their fate would be sealed.
A moment, the outlaw pondered.
"Quick, Rosie! Take this knife and cut the thongs binding the scouts to the horses. Pedro, grab the smaller one. Choke him so he'll be quiet. When I give the word, dash with him for the Cave. I'll tote the other.
"Rosie, when I saynow, turn the horses and send them down the trail on the run!"
These directions were uttered with as little noise as possible. Yet they were overheard.
"Here they are! Here they are! Close in on 'em!" yelled four or five voices from the direction Pedro had said he heard suspicious sounds.
Under the crackling of the bushes and the crunching of stones as the manhunters advanced, Rogers whispered:
"Now!"
Frantically Rose jabbed the horses with the knife the outlaw had given her.
Snorting with pain and fright, the animals dashed down the trail, the beat of their iron shoes upon the rocks ringing out loud and clear.
"Watch out!"
"Down the trail!"
"They're mounted!"
"Shoot 'em!"
"Don't let 'em escape!"
In a babel of voices, these warnings and commands were roared.
"Crouch down!" breathed Rogers. "If they shoot, we'll dash for the Cave. If they don't, we'll——"
Bang! crashed a volley. Then another and another.
With all speed possible, the troopers rushed up the mountainside while, as the reports rang out and reverberated among the mountains, wild were the wavings of torches by the manhunters too far away to join in the pursuit.
And under cover of the confusion, Red Rogers and his comrades gained the entrance to the "Breathing Cave."
CHAPTER X.
BESIEGED.
So deadly had been the aim of the troopers as they poured their volleys of lead at the horses dashing down the mountain that the animals were quickly stopped in their mad run.
"Close in! Be careful, Red is a dead shot!" yelled the manhunters as they leaped and scrambled over the rocks, hurrying to gain the spot where the horses had dropped before the fugitives, whom they supposed to have been riding the animals, could have the chance to seek cover in the underbrush.
The flare of the torches made the mountainside almost as light as day.
In the excitement, the manhunters poured volleys of lead at everything that moved, determined not to let the outlaw escape again.
But as the foremost of the pursuers gained the side of the disabled horses, they knew that they had been outwitted by the resourceful Rogers.
"He's fooled us!" yelled a trooper.
"What makes you think so?" demanded Lieutenant Fox, who was the first officer to reach the scene.
"Because the horses and their blankets are riddled with bullets," replied one of his men. "No person could have been on their backs and have lived."
"Then whereisRogers?" returned the young officer.
"The old Nick only knows," grunted a veteran. "One thing's certain, though." And then the trooper grew silent, as if repenting of his words.
"What is certain? Why don't you speak, man, instead of standing there like a dummy?" flashed Fox.
"I didn't want to seem to be meddling, sir," rejoined the trooper. "But I was going to say that Red can't be far away or he wouldn't have resorted to the ruse of turning his horses loose."
"Then get busy and find him. Don't waste precious time standing round here," snapped the lieutenant. And at his words, the group about the fallen horses melted away and disappeared among the rocks and underbrush, the men's course being indicated by the glow from their torches.
A moment the young officer stood, debating whether he should go with his men or report to the colonel, and before he had made up his mind, the members of the sheriff's posse who had caused the outlaw to abandon his horses, came upon him.
"Who are you?" demanded the lieutenant.
"We came with Sheriff Black," replied one of them.
"Well, get into the brush. Don't dally round here. Rogers has tricked us."
"Ain't that just like him?" exclaimed another member of the posse. "I told Black, while we were waiting up the trail yonder, that I'd bet Red would get away, and now he's done it. One or a thousand men, it don't make no difference to him. If he has any chance at all, he can wriggle through them. Now I——"
But the young officer, reminded by the fellow's words of the manner in which the outlaw had eluded him during the day, turned on his heel and was walking away, when a shout sounded from ahead.
"This way! This way!" yelled a voice. "Red's gone this way! Here's the body of a man he's killed!"
Instantly the troopers who had been scouring the mountainside surrounding the horses gave up their efforts and hastened up the trail.
"That's Faro Pete," announced Sheriff Black, after an examination of the body. "I'd rather have lost a dozen other men than him."
"Why?" demanded Captain Smythe, forcing his way through the group about the man whom the outlaw had killed.
"Because, as a member of Red's old gang, he knew all his haunts. When he heard where the cuss had been located, he 'lowed that Red would probably make for the Old Stockade, and if he found the trails cut off, for the 'Breathing Cave.' Pete was the only man, so far as I know, who was ever with Red in the Cave. And now he's gone and we're likely to be gray headed before we can find out how to get into it."
"Breathing Cave? Breathing Cave?" repeated the captain. "What in the world are you talking about, man? Who ever heard of a Breathing Cave?"
"I have, sir," replied a voice.
In surprise, the officers and sheriff turned toward the speaker and beheld Alkali.
"Then tell us what it is and where it is," commanded Smythe.
"It's a crack in a rock, barely large enough for a man to squeeze into, and when you stand beside it, you can feel it breathe."
"Feel a rock breathe," sneered Lieutenant Fox, contemptuously. "Have you been drinking, Alkali?"
"No, sir. What I'm telling you about that Cave is the truth. And I can prove it."
"How?" demanded Smythe.
"By taking you to it."
"You know where it is?" exclaimed the sheriff and the officers, in pleased surprise.
"Sure I do. You ain't more than three rods from it this very minute."
"Then take us to it," ordered the captain. "Beyond a doubt, that's where the man we're after is hiding. Fox, go down and report to the colonel all we have learned. You might suggest that it would be well for him to come up here. He'll probably wish to take charge of the prisoner."
With no attempt to conceal his disappointment and displeasure at being sent by his superior to carry a message to the colonel that might just as well have been entrusted to a private, especially when the capture of the notorious outlaw who had led them such a merry chase seemed imminent, the lieutenant turned on his heel without replying, starting down the mountainside at a run.
Shouting and yelling in jubilation at the thought they would soon have the notorious outlaw securely bound and on his way back to the jail from which he had escaped, leaving a trail of Corpses behind him, the troopers swarmed after the half-breed.
"I wish you'd hold 'em back, sir," exclaimed Alkali to the captain, who with several other officers was following close at the scout's heels.
"Why?"
"Because I want to examine the entrance to the Cave to find if Red is really in there. But if them troopers, crowd round, they'll spoil any tracks there may be."
Realizing that Alkali spoke sound sense, the captain faced about.
"No man can come nearer the Cave than twenty feet until I give permission," he shouted.
Amazed at the command, the troopers asked one another what new development could have transpired. But their curiosity was quickly allayed by the sight of the half-breed creeping about on his hands and knees.
Interest in the scout's discoveries was forgotten for the moment by the officers as they felt a sudden outpouring of air, followed several seconds later by a sucking downward of the atmosphere.
"What in the world can that be?" they asked one another.
"It's the 'Breathing Cave,'" grunted Alkali; in explanation.
"It sure is just like a person breathing," asserted Captain Smythe, after he and several of his companions had dropped to their knees near the crevice in the rock and felt the outward and inward rush of air against their faces.
"How did you know about it, Alkali?" demanded another officer.
"Injuns."
"Did they give any explanation of the mystery?"
"Some did, some didn't."
Further discussion of the wonder was prevented for the moment, at least, by the arrival of Colonel Edwards.
"Have you got the devil cornered, Smythe?" he asked of the officer.
"I believe so, sir."
"Believe? Don't youknow?" thundered his superior.
"No, sir. I'm waiting for Alkali to determine whether Rogers has entered that opening in the rock or not."
"Well, I guess the surest way to put an end to him is for the earth to swallow him," chuckled the colonel. "What do you find, Alkali?"
"He's in there, and there are two others with him. I——"
"Any sign of the three Mounted Scouts they captured?" interrupted Captain Smythe.
"They was dragging something with them. You can see where the dirt over there is scraped. But whether it's the Scouts, I can't say, sir."
"We'll probably find their bodies somewhere down the trail," opined the colonel. "It isn't likely they would have bothered with them when we were pressing them so close. But you're sure Red Rogers is in there?"
"Yes, sir."
"Any other way to get into the Cave?"
"Not as I know of, sir."
"How big is it?"
"Never was inside."
"Well, there's one sure thing. Rogers and his companions can't find any food in there."
"Captain Smythe, you will pick thirty-men and stay here, camped about the opening to this Cave, until you either starve Rogers out or to death."
CHAPTER XI.
THE OUTLAW BECOMES SUSPICIOUS OF ROSE.
After the captain had selected the troopers whom he wished to keep with him, all of whom were chosen because of their fearlessness and deadly marksmanship, the colonel gave the command for the rest of the men to return to the base of the mountain and camp for the night.
"Shall you want Alkali?" he asked, as he prepared to follow them.
"No, sir. That is, I don't think so. You said there was no other entrance to the Cave, didn't you, Alkali?" the captain asked, turning to the half-breed.
"None as I knows of," repeated the scout.
"Then I don't see how Alkali can be of any use to me, Colonel Edwards."
But the officer was soon to regret his decision to dispense with the services of the half-breed.
Wearied with the labors of the strenuous day, now that they felt they had the notorious outlaw in their power, or at least where he could do no more harm, the troopers rolled themselves up in their blankets and were soon fast asleep, while a solitary sentinel stool guard over the crevice, at the two ends of which fires had been kindled.
Within the Cave, however, all was activity, though the outlaw and his companions had passed through an even more nerve-wracking day than their pursuers.
The haven which Rogers had reached barely in time to save his life was one that he and his former gang had chiselled from the solid rock. Scarce twenty feet long was it, but it extended back for at least twice that distance. The phenomenal breathing of the crevice afforded a constant change of air, thus enabling them to burn candles which had been left when it was one of Rogers' regular hiding places before his capture.
Lighting several of these, he bade Rose prepare some food, while he stood as near to the entrance as he dared in order that he might hear what transpired among the troopers in the event of their trailing him to the Cave.
And could they have seen the smile that spread over his face as the half-breed declared he was ignorant of any other means of departing from or getting into the retreat, Colonel Edwards would never have called off the manhunt.
"It's a lucky thing for me that I ran across Faro Pete and put him out of the way," chuckled the bandit to himself. "If I hadn't, old 'turkey gobler' would have had me like a rat in a trap. As it is, I'll be able to pull off a few stunts that will give him an awful jar."
From where he lay, he could hear almost every word that the manhunters said, and again he grinned as the order to lay siege to the Cave was issued. And when all was quiet and only the guard was astir, he returned to his companions, to whom he quickly related all that had transpired.
"Let them keep up their old siege, if they want to," exclaimed Rose, as the outlaw concluded. "We've got food enough in that bag for a couple of days, anyhow, so we can just stay here and get a good rest. I sure do need it, and I guess you and Pedro do, too, Red."
"Sleep won't seem a bit bad, especially as it will be the first I have had outside a jail for five years," agreed the outlaw.
"But what are you going to do with the scouts?" demanded Pedro. "It won't do to take the gags out of their mouths or to let 'em loose."
"And they'll lower our supply of food," interposed the girl.
"It looks as though old 'turkey gobler' would starve his own men and not us," chuckled the outlaw. "Still, there's no hurry about deciding what to do with them. They can't do any damage, that's certain. After I take a look round to-morrow and see how the land lays, we can attend to them."
Preys to all sorts of hopes and fears, Jennings and Scotty had passed through an ordeal during the last hour such as seldom falls to the lot of any human. The sight of their comrades beating the mountainside for their captors had inspired them with hope for their own rescue. When Rogers had decided to take them with him, they still clung to this hope. But as the pursuit grew closer, they were in terror lest the outlaw put a bullet into each of them and thus rid himself of the handicap they were to his escape. With the realization that they would probably be kept to serve the purpose of their captor, after they heard from his lips that there was a different place to enter the Cave than the one the troopers were besieging, they lost heart, however. And as their hunger increased with the savory odors coming from the food that Rose was preparing, they wished that the notorious outlaw had, indeed, ended their suffering.
But they were to find that Rogers was not utterly without feeling.
As Rose announced that their meal was ready, the desperado walked over to where the scouts lay.
"I reckon you fellows are a bit hungry," he chuckled. "Now, I tell you what I'm going to do. I'm going to take the gags out of your mouths and give you something to eat. I'll also remove the bandages from your eyes. It won't do you any good to yell or cry out, because we've got enough shells and bullets in this Cave to hold it against a regiment. Besides, if any of your friends up above tried to get in here, unless they struck one particular place, they'd fall way down, clean to hell, I guess. So you see, it won't do you any good to try to start something."
"But they might let 'em know' there was another way to get into the place," interposed Pedro.
"Little good it would do 'em," returned his chief. "They could search a month of Sundays and never find it."
"Still, they might get word to the Fort and then old 'turkey gobler' would order the men out again, which would interfere with our going where we pleased," objected Rose.
"Reckon you're right, girl. It will be a big sight easier for me to carry out my plans if I don't have a bunch of manhunters to dodge for a while.
"Say, you fellows," he exclaimed, turning toward his captives, "if you make any attempt to communicate with the guard up there, I'll chuck you down that crack in the rock—and no one ever comes back from there. So be good and you'll be a big lot happier. Perhaps, if you're real good, after I've carried out my pledge, I'll let you loose. You're a mighty entertaining couple of chaps, but I can't say I should care to have to tote you about with me all the rest of my days, especially as the way, you're togged up is something likely to attract attention."
His words disclosing that the outlaw was in rare good humor, the scouts wisely decided not to bring down his wrath upon them, and accordingly when they were placed at the table and the gags and bandages were removed, they made no outcry, eating gratefully the food which the girl and even Rogers fed them.
But the outlaw's leniency would go no further, as Rose found when she pleaded with him to remove the thongs from their arms and ankles and allow them to stretch their aching limbs.
Indeed, the request seemed to revive his earlier suspicion of the girl.
"Say, what's the matter with you, anyhow, girl?" he demanded. "Here, just because I fed the poor devils, you seem to think I should turn 'em loose. Pretty soon, I suppose you'll be asking me to go to that guard pacing back and forth and give myself up." Then an idea seemed to strike him, and, with a disgusting leer, he said: "I believe this doll-faced kid here has hypnotized you."
"Well, I knowheisn't the kind of man that would make you sleep all trussed up the way you've got him," flashed Rose, blushing at the outlaw's words.
"You're dead right, he ain't," retorted Rogers, "because he ain't the sort of chap who would ever catch a man to bind him."
And laughing at his words, evidently considering them mighty clever, the bandit got up from the table, ordered Pedro to place the prisoners on some straw, and threw himself down upon a pile of blankets, keeping his eyes upon Rose, however, till her breathing indicated that she was asleep.
CHAPTER XII.
A CLOSE CALL.
Despite his bravado evinced before his prisoners and the girl, Rogers did not feel as secure in the "Breathing Cave," as his words made him appear. Consequently, though he was wearied by his unusual exertions after his long confinement behind the bars, he was awake early the next morning.
Arousing Pedro, he bade him keep a close watch on the girl and the scouts, and not to let them converse unless he was within hearing distance.
"I'll watch 'em, never fear," promised the bandit.
"See that you do. Your life is responsible for their safety," returned his master. And with these words, the outlaw walked to the end of the cave opposite the crevice by which he had entered, placed his shoulder against what seemed part of the solid wall of rock and, after several attempts, pushed out a block about three feet square.
Cautiously sticking his head through the trap door, Rogers listened intently for several minutes and then, apparently satisfied it would be safe for him to go forth, squeezed through the hole, closing it behind him.
But he was by no means out of danger.
The spot where the second entrance to the Cave was located was less than a hundred yards from where Captain Smythe and his troopers had established their siege camp, and was in full view from the valley below where the rest of the troopers had bivouaced.
Yet, unless they had chanced to see him suddenly appear from the rock, he ran little risk of detection from the latter, for he quickly gained the shelter of a crag, where he waited to learn if an alarm was raised.
When some five minutes had passed and the silence which enveloped the mountains and valleys was unbroken, he began his descent.
With all the cunning of which he was master, the daredevil outlaw crept down the hillside, crossed the level land and then went up the other mountain in order that he might learn whether or not any troops had been stationed to watch the trail to the Old Stockade.
As he found the way entirely open, he was sorely tempted to pay a hurried visit to the place which had been his headquarters and the scene of many a wild orgy before he had been captured, but he told himself there would be plenty of time to live over the old days when he had fulfilled his pledge and accordingly he retraced his steps.
But the outlaw found that it would not prove so easy a matter to regain the Cave as it was to leave it.
When he reached a spot on his return whence he could survey the valley where the troopers had camped, instead of finding it deserted, as he had expected, he found it alive with cavalrymen.
Wondering as to the cause, yet aware that it effected him, Rogers sought out a rock from which he could watch the manhunters.
Had he returned an hour before, however, he would have found his progress unimpeded.
After breakfast, Colonel Edwards had given the command to break camp and return to the Fort, ordering the men to keep a sharp lookout for the bodies of the three Mounted Scouts, who had been captured by the outlaw.
When the search failed to reveal them, as the reader knows, both officers and men came to the conclusion that Rogers had kept them with him, and many were the speculations as to his reason for so doing.
About an hour had they been on the march, when a solitary rider was sighted. More out of curiosity than anything else, Colonel Edwards trained his field glasses upon him. But as he did so, his manner changed.
"By all the gods of war, that's our man Shaw!" he gasped, "and he's bound, gagged and blindfolded. That's the work of that devil, Rogers! Lieutenant Hastings, take three men and see what's the trouble."
Like wildfire, the identity of the horseman had spread among the cavalrymen and eagerly they watched as the detail dashed on its mission.
The strain of the terrible night when he knew not what moment might be his last had proved too much for the Scout, however, and when his comrades gained his side, he was jabbering to himself, a raving maniac.
Calling down all the curses of which they could think upon the head of the desperado for his treatment of their fellow, the officer and his men quickly, but tenderly, removed the gag, bandage and rawhide, then lifted the scout from his horse and laid him on the plain, forcing some brandy between his swollen lips, all the while plying him with questions. But it was no use. Shaw could only jabber.
Realizing from the troopers' actions that something serious was amiss, Colonel Edwards and his aides rode up just as one of the men picked up the message Red Rogers had written, which had passed unnoticed in the endeavor to restore the Mounted Scout to his normal self.
"A communication for you, sir," said Hastings, handing the rough scrawl to his superior.
Adjusting his glasses, the colonel began to read it, then burst into a towering rage.
"Listen to this! Listen to this!" he roared, addressing all within earshot. "'Colonel Turkey Gobler. I cum bak to keep my promise to a ded man. Yu no whu i mene, barney Landon, the man you cudnt get the reward for becoze i hid his body. im going to fix evry man who helped do barney. I am kepeing 2 of yure men. if yu get after me, ill send em bak to yu in peces. if yu wil leve a safe conduk for rosie landon to ole man quints friday i wont turn no tricks on yure post. Red Rogers.'"
As he proceeded, the colonel grew madder and madder, fairly screaming as he finished.
"Think of it! That to me!" he chortled. "We'll go back and smoke that devil out, if it takes every man on the post. Hastings, give the orders. Send two men to the Fort with Shaw."
Not a man was there who did not consider Red's message a personal insult, regardless of poor Shaw's treatment, and never were commands more willingly obeyed than those to ride back to the Breathing Cave and capture the daredevil bandit.
Pitching camp in the valley, the troopers quickly swarmed up the hillside to the Cave, and it was almost at the moment of their arrival that Rogers had caught sight of them.
As the officers reached the spot where the outlaw was supposed to lie hidden, they immediately held a council of war, discussing the quickest means of bringing the desperado to book. Many were the schemes suggested, but it was finally decided to begin by trying literally to smoke him out.
The men were ordered to collect piles of dry branches which were jammed as tightly as possible into the crevice in the rock and then set afire.
At the sight of the flames and the realization of the troopers' purpose, the outlaw leaped to his feet.
"Daylight or no daylight, I've got to save Rosie and Pedro!" he muttered, and, never thinking of the danger to himself his act entailed, he began to work his way to the Cave.
With marvellous skill, he descended the hill, crossed the valley in which was located the camp, and crept up the other side. But every trick of which he was master he was obliged to use. Indeed, no less than three times, troopers passed within pistol shot of him, yet never even a suspicion did they have of his presence.
But when he seemed to have success within his reach, he was balked. Less than thirty yards was he from the secret entrance to the Cave when some of the men began to gather brush just above it. And, cursing frightfully, Rogers was forced to seek cover.
Fortunately for the girl and men within the Cave, the mysterious breathing of the crevice kept the greatest part of the smoke from entering the excavation in which they cowered.
Surprised to awake and find the outlaw gone, Rose grew more and more uneasy as time went by without his return, and when the men began to jam the brush into the crevice, she was beside herself with fear.
"There's no use of worrying," declared Pedro. "If they'd caught him, they wouldn't be trying to suffocate him." And, so self-evident was this argument that the girl took courage.
It was not until dusk, however, that Rogers finally found the opportunity to re-enter his hiding place. And his arrival was just in time, for his comrades were all but overcome with the smoke.
The sight of the outlaw unharmed, inspired them with hope, and eagerly they followed him from the Cave.
And, because of the darkness, they experienced but little difficulty in reaching the trail to the Old Stockade, and in due course arrived at that nigh-impregnable fortress.
CHAPTER XIII.
A REIGN OF TERROR.
Perched almost on the top of a rock-crowned mountain, from a distance the Stockade looked like a boulder, a fact that doubtless accounted for its never having been discovered by any of the Scouts or plainsmen. Not a tree was there within rods of it, so that surprise was out of the question, a condition that had made it so valuable to the gold miners who had used it as a refuge against Indians, and one that had recommended it to the notorious outlaw as the headquarters for his band, and the strong box for his ill-gotten gains.
So jealously had Rogers guarded the secret of its whereabouts that he had always insisted that members of his gang should be blindfolded before he would lead them to it, and thus no one but himself knew the exact trail which he had learned from an old Indian squaw whom he had helped to get revenge upon the chief of her tribe.
Even Pedro did not know how to reach it, and it was, therefore, with deep disappointment that he heard Red order him to bandage the eyes of the prisoners and Rose, and was in turn blindfolded himself.
When these precautions had been taken, the outlaw took a turn with a rope round the waist of each, and thus kept them together and guided them.
On pain of death for any attempt to run away, the Scouts had been allowed the use of their legs by Rogers, in order to facilitate the escape from the Cave. But, because of the numbness caused by the length of time their ankles had been bound, Jennings and Scotty found it difficult to climb the tortuous trail, and it was after midnight before the creaking of a door told them they had reached their destination.
"Stay where you are for a few minutes while I see that all is right," commanded Rogers, dropping the rope.
Wondering whether this was the preface to some terrible deed of treachery, the four stood still, fearing to move.
But their alarm was unfounded.
Lighting a torch, of which there were many in this lofty stronghold, the outlaw went from window to window, making sure that the shutters of iron were in place, that no rays of light might be radiated and thus disclose the location of the Old Stockade.
So well had his gang, who were practically his slaves, fashioned them, however, that they were still sound, and, returning to his companions, he removed their bandages, revealing to their eyes a scene of barbaric splendor. Rugs of finest weave and costly furs covered the floor. Exquisite tapestries adorned the walls, and scattered here and there were glorious statues and ornaments of rarest stone, silver and gold, all the loot of Red Rogers' raids which had often carried him into Mexico.
In speechless amazement, Rose and the Scouts gazed about them.
"Like it?" asked the outlaw, enjoying their surprise. "If you will be good and do as I say for a few days, until I finish my business, I will divide them among you. I'm going away, and shall not have any use for them.
"Pedro, go and bring some wine. You fellows give me your word you won't try to run away, and I'll sever your bonds. Will you do it?"
"Oh, do," implored the girl. "It will seem just as though we were living a fairy tale in some enchanted palace to be up here—only if your arms are bound, it will spoil the illusion."
"And if we don't?" demanded Jennings.
"It won't make any difference to any one but Rosie. I shall give Pedro orders to shoot any one of you who tries to run away. So it's up to you to decide whether you'll be comfortable or not."
"Sort of heads I win, tails you lose, eh?" returned Scotty, to whose youthful imagination, Rose's play-dream appealed strongly.
"That's about it, I reckon," grinned the outlaw.
For several minutes, the Scouts were silent, both loath to give their word to a man than to kill whom nothing would bring them more pleasure. But, at last, solacing themselves with the thought that a promise given to a desperado was no promise at all, they agreed, and Red cut their bonds.
Almost at the same time, Pedro returned bearing a cobweb-covered flagon and some goblets wrought from pure gold, which he filled and passed about.
"We'll drink to the success of my pledge," exclaimed the outlaw, raising the goblet to his lips. "I'm going away to-night," he continued, as he set the golden cup upon a stand. "When I'll be back, I can't just tell. Until I do, you are all to stay here. Pedro, I shall make your life pay forfeit for any escape. If any or all of the three try it, drop them in their tracks. Keep all the weapons in the chest, and don't let the key leave your person."
"But suppose you don't come back?" asked Jennings, significantly. "Do you think we are going to spend the rest of our lives here?"
"Oh, I'll be back, right enough," returned the fearless bandit. "Yet, if you think some of Turkey Gobler's men may get me, I'll leave it this way—if I'm not back again in three days, you may go back to your Fort. I may send you, anyhow, if your colonel is reasonable. That's why I brought you, to make him reasonable. You can divide the stuff here. There's only one condition that I'll make. You must agree to keep Rosie from arrest because of her assistance in getting out of jail."
"I'll agree to that," exclaimed Scotty, with an eagerness that made the other men laugh, and sent a flush to the girl's cheeks.
"Good! But don't bank too heavily on it, for I shall return."
"How about food?" inquired Rose, as the outlaw walked toward the door.
"There's enough in that canvas bag. I helped myself to some of the troopers' stores while I was waiting to get back to the Cave. When I come back, I'll bring more."
And opening the door, the desperado stepped forth into the night.
Familiar with every rock and pebble in the trail, Rogers descended rapidly to the valley.
"Guess I'd better have a mount," he muttered to himself, as he came upon a dozen or more of the cavalry horses.
Having a wonderful power over animals, the outlaw was able, by speaking soothingly, to pick out a horse, just as he had done to the Mounted Scouts, and was soon threading his way up the trail down which he had fled the day before.
Riding with caution until he was out of danger of discovery by the troopers, Rogers headed his mount for the cabin of old Quint, which he reached just at daybreak.
"Go into the woods and up to the spring," piped a shrill voice from behind a half-opened window shutter, in response to Rogers' three taps on the door. "I'll follow right along."
Quickly the desperado obeyed, and was soon joined by a small, hunched-backed man with long gray hair and beard.
"I've been expecting you ever since I heered the news," said he, without any word of greeting. "But you can't stay here."
Though Quint had always been a man of few words, he had, nevertheless, been the one friend in whom Rogers placed implicit reliance. Indeed, the old man had planned many of his raids, sharing royally in the loot, and the brevity of his greeting piqued the outlaw.
"Who said anything about staying here?" he demanded, angrily. "I've got other business."
These words seemed to bring great relief to the old man.
"Just come to say good-bye, eh? Well, I wish you luck. Anything I can do for you? Need any money?"
"Not a cent. But I tell you what Idowant. I want to know where I can find Jerry Hooper, Zeb Cross and Al Bender."
These were the names of the three plainsmen who had killed Barney Landon, and as he heard them, Quint looked at the bandit keenly.
"Take my advice, and you'll leave well enough alone. This region is getting mighty hot for you. Better get out before they carry you out," he exclaimed, significantly.
"Thanks, I don't want advice," grinned Rogers. "I want to know where I can find those three fellows."
"You'll find them on their ranches, jest as they used to be."
"Much obliged. Oh, there's another thing you can do for me, Quint. You can go to the Fort and tell Edwards, with my compliments, that he's wasting time trying to smoke me out of the 'Breathing Cave.' Also tell him I'm sorry I had to take another one of his horses."
"So Edwards thinks you're in the Cave?" asked the old man, chuckling. "Sure, I'll be glad to get word to him. I wish he'd been mixed up with Barney. I don't know a man I hate more'n I do Hiram Edwards. Yes, I'll sure let him know."
"Thank you. Good-bye." And with a wave of his hand, Rogers dashed away through the woods.
For a while, he smiled as he pictured to himself the scene between the pompous colonel and the little old man; then became grave as he thought of the mission upon which he was riding.
Though Barney Landon had been a desperado, he had been accused by Zeb Cross of lifting some cattle—and wrongly. Cross, however, lured by a reward, had persuaded Hooper and Bender to waylay the outlaw. This they had done, wounding him grievously. But Landon had managed to ride to where Rogers was spending the night, and died in his arms, after which the outlaw hid his body so that no one could collect the reward.
Before his pal's death, he made him a pledge, and in attempting to carry it out, traveled to the city of Keno, where he had been arrested by twenty Mounted Scouts, but only after he had shot down ten others.
And now, at his first opportunity, this man, whose mind and ideas were so perverted that he preferred a life of crime to one of honor, was taking up the quest again.
Nearest of any of the three was Al Bender's ranch, and thither Rogers rode, recking not that it was broad daylight.
To his delight, Bender was standing in the doorway as the outlaw dashed up.
"Your time has come, Al Bender!" he hissed. And, before the terror-stricken man could escape, Rogers put a bullet through his heart.
"There's one, Barney!" he murmured, as he rode away. "Now, for Zeb Cross!"
Night had fallen before the outlaw reached his destination. Riding boldly to the door, he banged on it with his gun butt.
"You?" gasped the ranchman, as he beheld the red-bearded desperado.
But the bark of a pistol was his only answer.
Never heeding the cowboys who rushed to learn the cause of the shot, Rogers raced to the horse corral, hastily cut out one of the ponies, and was away before the people on the ranch had realized what had happened.
"That makes two," he chuckled, grimly. "I only hope Jerry Hooper is at home."
Unfortunately for the man, Red found him returning from a tour of inspection of his cattle at noon the next day.
Recognizing the outlaw from afar, Hooper tried to race away from him. But in vain.
"Now, I can face Barney," exclaimed Rogers, setting his pony toward the Old Stockade.
As the reports of the murders were received, people who had ever been concerned in any trouble with Rogers or Landon feared for their lives, and a veritable reign of terror seized the region.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE RAID ON THE OLD STOCKADE.
Although posses were formed and troopers thrown on the outlaw's trail, he managed to evade them, though several times they got near enough to shoot at him. But, with that perversity of Fate which seems at times to guard and protect wrongdoers, bring suffering upon the honest, he escaped to his fortress on the rock-crowned mountain unscathed.
Yet, in his very hour of gloating, his nemesis was stalking him.
When they awoke the morning after Rogers' departure, Scotty sought out Rose.
"What claim has Red Rogers got on you, that you stick to him?" he demanded.
"No man has any claim on Rose Landon!" flashed the girl, flushing at the question.
"Then why do you go round with Red?"
"Because he has been good to me. He stood by me and gave me money so I could live an honest life when no one else would have anything to do with me, because I was Barney Landon's daughter."
"But it's no way for you to live, girl," exclaimed the Scout. "He's sure to get caught. It's only a question of time—and not so very long a time at that, and then you'll be branded as his sweetheart."
"It's a lie! I'm no one's sweetheart!"
"But people won't believe that—and then what will you do?"
"Oh, don't! What right have you to talk to me like this, anyway?" demanded Rose.
"The right my love for you gives me."
"How dareyoutalk tomeof love?"
"Because I mean it. You're too fine a girl to have your life blasted by Red Rogers. I want to save you."
There was that in the passionate tone in which the young Scout spoke, and in the expression upon his handsome face that drew Rose to him, irresistibly—and then the thought of taking her place among the good women of the world—a thought that always strikes hardest the woman who sees the opportunity being closed to her, flashed to her mind.
"How can you help me?" she asked, in a voice scarcely more than a whisper.
"I can make you my wife. Then I shall have the right to protect you. Oh, Rose, think what joy it would be. Don't say we haven't known each other long enough. Think what we've been through."
"But what would Red say?"
"What can he? We can go before he gets back and be married."
"But you gave him your word not to. And there's Pedro. He would shoot you."
"A man isn't supposed to keep his word to a murderer and robber. As for Pedro, I guess Jennings and I can fix him. Will you, girlie? Tell me quick before we're interrupted."
A moment Rose hesitated.
Then, with a happy little catch in her voice, she breathed:
"Yes."
But, before they could seal their betrothal with a kiss, Jennings appeared.
Keeping his secret, Scotty said:
"Let's lay for Pedro and do him up. Then we can get away, obtain reinforcements from the camp in the valley and raid the Old Stockade when Red Rogers gets back."
With a scowl, the scout nodded his head toward the girl.
"Don't worry about her. She's going with us," smiled the youngster.
"Really?"
"Yes," answered Rose.
"Good. Then let's start right now. I just saw Pedro sneaking off down the trail. By keeping our eyes open, we can get out of this place and hide until he returns, and then go on our way without danger."
No sooner had the plan been suggested than it was agreed upon.
"I wish we could take some of these things," sighed the girl, as she took a parting survey of the costly furnishings.
"Never mind, now. We'll come back for them."
And, without delay, the trio fled from their prison. Cautiously they advanced until they found a rock behind which they could hide, and there they remained until Pedro passed them.
Deeming the chance unequaled to learn the trail, the outlaw's trusted man had gone down the path, noting its every wind and turn. As this had taken longer than he had anticipated, he made all haste possible to get back.
And when he found his prisoners flown, he was panic-stricken.
"Red said my life would pay if they got away!" he wailed. Then suddenly the thought flashed into his mind that he, too, could make his escape and thus avoid the wrath of his master—and packing up everything he could carry, he fled.
With untoward incident, the Mounted Scouts reached the camp of their comrades with Rose. Their story was quickly reported to the colonel, and they were immediately summoned before him.
Upon the young Scout's statement of his engagement and as a reward for the information in regard to Rogers' retreat, the commandant of Fort Griswold agreed not to have the girl arrested.
"There's one thing I should like to ask, sir," stammered Scotty, as they started to leave the presence of the colonel.
"What is it?"
"That I be allowed to act as guide when you raid the Old Stockade."
"All right, you may. Now, leave me."
The story of the young Scout's romantic wooing was soon spread among the troopers, and they all clustered to congratulate him—and when they beheld the beauty of the girl, they envied him.
But Scotty's love-making was cut short.
Word of Rogers' murders was received by the colonel, together with the information that the outlaw was heading for the foothills again.
Selecting fifty powerful, dead-shot scouts, the commander put them in charge of Lieutenant Hastings, with Scotty as guide.
"You best start right away," he added, after announcing the detail. "If you get there before Rogers, you can hide in the Stockade and seize him when he comes in. Remember, I want him alive!"
But though they made all speed, the Scouts found that the murdering outlaw was before them.
Sighting a light from a door of whose existence he had not dreamed, Scotty crept toward it.
In a trice he whipped out his "Colts" and aimed them within.
Wondering that he did not shoot, his comrades glided to him, and the sight that met their gaze astounded them.
With chin resting upon its hand sat a skeleton across a box of gold, seemingly staring at the Scouts. And before them both stood the outlaw, evidently having just entered.
"I have kept my pledge, Barney!" cried Red Rogers. "I've sent your murderers to hell!Now, I can take my gold and bury you."
As he spoke, Red Rogers stared at the skeleton, then ran his fingers gloatingly through the gold coins.
This mercenary act shattered the spell that held the Scouts immovable.
"Hands up!" yelled Scotty.
Like a flash, the outlaw wheeled.
"The tables are turned!" smiled the young Scout, grimly. "You'remyprisoner, now!"
Realizing that resistance was vain, Red Rogers chose the end that suited his terrible career.
With a mocking laugh, he dashed past Scotty, straight toward the muzzles of the fifty rifles.
"Fire!" rang out the lieutenant's voice.
Crash! went the guns, and Red Rogers pitched forward, his body riddled.
The raid on the Old Stockade had been successful!
Rose and Scotty were soon married, and the girl was later awarded a large portion of the gold found in the outlaw's lair.
For a few days Pedro managed to escape the troopers, but he was finally caught and sent to prison for the rest of his life.
THE END.
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