CHAPTER XL.THE RAIN MAKER.
Panther Pete was not fool enough not to know that there would be a pursuit of himself, although he hoped that Bug-eye Slocum and his friend Nate Rainey would be able to divert that pursuit in a wrong direction.
Yet he was taking no chances; so he sent back over the various trails that led in the direction of Scarlet Gulch what he called “stool pigeons,” clever members of his road agent band, men whose shrewdness he could rely on, and whose judgment and courage he could trust.
It was the business of these men to draw any pursuers into a certain trap—a peculiar place, rock surrounded, not far from the hidden valley, where they could be slaughtered readily by the road agents.
Bill Hatfield was one of the “pigeons,” and about the shrewdest of the lot.
He had been sent out, and he had climbed into a low, thick tree, after morning came, and from that coign of vantage was watching the trail that stretched in the direction of the town, expecting momentarily to see in it something worth while. What he saw after a time was Silas Deland and young Ben Denton. They were mounted, but were coming on slowly, for Denton’s wound made him weak. He was hollow-eyed and pale; in this respect his face being in most marked contrast with the red face of Deland.
“’Tain’t Buffler Bill,” said the “pigeon” in the tree, “ner anybody like him; but they’re from ther town, and what they’re out hyer fer nobody don’t need ter ask. So, I reckons, according to the order of ther boss, it’s my duty to cut in, if I can.”
Yet he did not descend from the tree, but sat crouched in the thick branches, watching the advance of the pair.
When the horsemen reached the tree, which stood on a little eminence, they halted, just under him.
“I reckon we’ll light down here a little while, and rest ye,” said Deland kindly, glancing about and seeing no signs of enemies.
“I believe that place is not far from here,” said Denton. Though pale and weak, the fire of courage and determination burned in his eyes and revealed itself in his voice. “I’d like to push right on.”
“There aire more of our crowd, and our kind, out here some’eres,” said Denton’s companion. “And I’m fer signalin’ to them.”
“It will draw the attention of the road agents, if they’re near.”
“Well, what if it does? I’d like to bring a little rain. This country is more droughted up than the desert of Sahiry. And that’s what brung me to Scarlet Gulch, ye know, as I’ve been tellin’ ye, the droughty condition out here. Says I to myself, ‘If I can go out there and bring rain, it means the biggest kind of big money in my pocket.’”
He had slipped from his saddle, and was helping the young man to dismount.
When Denton was on the ground, and had groped his way weakly to the foot of the tree, where he dropped down with a sigh of relief, Silas Deland turned his attention to a “grip,” or hand bag, of queer make, which he had hung at the horn of his saddle. He set this on the ground by the tree; and then, dropping down by the side of Denton, he opened it.
“I was tellin’ ye about that,” he said, “and about the luck I had over in Arizony. Well, the land is that dry and burned up in Arizony that men are compelled to drink whisky because there ain’t water enough to go round.”
He sprung open the bag, and within lay a number of small, egg-shaped, white objects.
The spy in the tree craned his neck to see them, and stared with popping eyes. At first he thought they were eggs. But, when Deland took one of them out and began to talk about it, the spy discovered his mistake.
“It’s this way,” said Deland, turning the white object around in his fingers, handling it as gingerly as if it were an egg and he feared to break it; “this land out here is the driest part of creation. The last good rain was, I reckon, when Noah had his flood and the mountains became seas.
“It was funny”—he turned the egg-shaped thing around in his fingers again—“the way them scalawags humped when I pitched one of these things into the midst of ’em there in Scarlet Gulch; they thought they’d been dynamited.” He chuckled so much that for a second or two he could not go on. “But it washarmless—perfectly harmless—unless a man should get some of the fire in his hair, or in his skin, or on his clothing, and then it might burn him some. Otherwise, it was perfectly harmless. But you saw it! And did you ever see so small an object made so much fire and smoke? And didn’t that gang of vigilantes fall all over themselves in trying to get out of the way? But perfectly harmless—perfectly harmless!”
The spy in the tree stared harder than before.
One of their members had been with the mob in front of the Flash Light when the explosion came, and he had told about it to the other members of Panther Pete’s gang, narrating a wonderful story.
So the rascal in the tree knew what was meant by the singular words of Silas Deland—knew quite as well as did young Denton.
“It was strange,” Denton assented wearily.
It was plain he was not interested. He was thinking of the perils of Ellen West, and was chafing at what seemed an enforced and needless delay. He wanted to be hurrying ahead, instead of resting there under that tree.
“You’ve heard about my rain-making experiments?” said Deland.
“No, I don’t think that I have, except what you’ve told me,” Denton answered.
Deland looked surprised and disappointed. He had fancied that his fame had preceded him.
“Well, it was at White Cloud, Arizony, where I made my biggest experiment. No rain there for nigh about a year, and everything dry as a powder mill.There wasn’t a speck of cloud in the sky when I went there. I says to the people of White Cloud, ‘Give me a thousand dollars after it’s done, and I’ll bring you all the rain you want inside of twenty-four hours.’”
He stopped and looked at the sky, and then pointed a finger, seeming to the spy in the tree to be pointing straight at him.
“Looky there now! When I set off that bomb in the crowd before the Flash Light, there wasn’t a cloud as big as a man’s hand anywhere in sight. I’ll leave it to you if there was.”
“No, there wasn’t.”
“And now, look at the sky—all covered over with clouds; and it will sure rain inside of twenty-four hours, especially if I set off some more of ’em. I think I’ll turn this one loose; it will signal to our friends, maybe, and bring ’em to us; and it will bring rain to fill up some of these hollers, so that we’ll have water fer ourselves and our horses, and won’t be in danger of thirsting ter death before we get back.” He toyed with the little bomb. “What do ye say?”
“I’m too tired to form an opinion,” Denton answered.
“Well, we need help, and that’s a fact. We don’t know where we’re goin’. We’re jes’ amblin’ along, trustin’ to luck. Luck is a good thing, but some other things aire better. This is.” He patted the egg-shaped thing. “So, if you don’t object, I think I’ll touch her off.”
“The road agents are as likely to see it and come as our friends.”
“We’ll keep our eyes open. And there’s one thing: If any road agents aire drawn by it, we kin keep out of sight of ’em; and then we can trail ’em, and by trailin’ ’em we’ll find where their hotel is out here; and we’ll be close, then, to the place where they’re holding the young lady.”
This was to Ben Denton the most convincing argument of all.
“Go ahead!” he said wearily.
He sat against the tree, his hat pulled over his eyes, his whole appearance showing that he was on the verge of exhaustion.
“All right,” said Deland, “here she goes. But this is a different kind from that I throwed in the street. This kind you touch off like a rocket, by lighting this end, when it shoots up into the air. You’ll be surprised when you see it go. It’s my own invention; all of ’em aire. And I think I’ve hit on a thing that’s goin’ to make my fortune.”
The spy in the tree had grown so interested in all this that he had nearly forgotten what he was there for.
He saw Deland set the small white object on its large end, on the ground; and then he saw him light a match and touch the lighted match to the sharp, or upper, end. Almost instantly there was a flash and a roar.
Something that was blazing bright shot by him with a whistling screech, so alarming and astonishing him that he emitted a yell, and fell headlong out of the tree.
The bomb sailed on into the sky, sputtering like a rocket, as the “pigeon” struck the ground.
Though Deland and Denton were both astonished by this tumble of the man out of the tree, they were not too surprised to act promptly. Deland sprang on the man, and bore him backward to the ground, as the fellow tried to rise. He yelled for Denton to come to his aid, and this Denton did with such alacrity that he seemed not to be very weak, after all.
As for the spy, the fall had knocked the breath out of him. This, with his astonishing tumble from the tree, and the thing that had preceded it, made him an easy victim. Almost before he knew it, Deland had him by the throat and was choking him, and the younger man was also throwing himself on him, helping to hold him down.
The rockety thing that had flashed into the sky exploded there, emitting a big puff of white smoke that sprayed out and began to form what was in shape a small cloud.
“Let up!” the spy gurgled, as he felt Deland’s fingers dig into his throat.
However, Deland did not let up until young Denton had secured one of the horsehair lariats, and from it had made cords and bound the prisoner.
By this time the “pigeon” was almost black in the face and half senseless.
Deland turned his attention to the sky, and to that floating smoke cloud, as soon as he could do so. Just then a few drops of rain spattered in his upturned face.
It was but a natural phenomenon, of course, but Deland was ready to ascribe that spatter of rain to the effect of his exploding rain bomb. He yelled with glee, and stretched out his hands, calling on Denton to witness that it had actually rained.
“Denton,” he cried, “if I should send up enough of them things, I could drownd the world, same’s it was in ther days of Noah. Did you notice that beautiful sprinkle?”
Denton was paying attention to the prisoner.
The spy gurgled and coughed, wriggled about, but was helpless. Then he recalled that bright thing which had startled him by flashing with a hissing roar past his face, and his tumble out of the tree. He lay back on the ground, groaning. Then his face brightened, for he realized that he had not played in such bad luck, after all.
The command of Panther Pete was for him to intercept one of the pursuing parties, let that party capture him, and then offer to lead it to the hidden home of the outlaws; when Panther Pete would have a force ready to wipe the said pursuers out.
Deland came back from the clouds, and gave some attention to his prisoner.
“Who aire ye, and what was you doin’ there in the tree?” he demanded; a thing which Denton had demanded already.
“I’m Bill Hatfield,” confessed the rascal, sure they had never heard his name before. “I’m a peacerble citerzen.”
“What was you doin’ in that tree?”
“Come!” cried Denton, and he produced a revolver. “I know who you are, all right. You’re not from the town, and that’s proof to me that you’re one of Panther Pete’s men. Admit it, or I put a bullet through you.”
Hatfield squirmed; then said, with seeming reluctance:
“Well, what you goin’ to do about it? I am one o’ them fellers, but——”
“Ah, I knew it! And you were doing what, up in that tree?”
“I seen ye comin’, and jest shinned up there ter keep ye frum seein’ me. And say”—he turned to Deland—“what was that thing you shot at me, anyhow?”
“That was a rain bomb,” said Deland proudly. “Young man, I didn’t shoot it at ye, but you were permitted to see then a marvelous exhibition; an effort to bring rain from rainless clouds, and a successful one, too; for, see!” He held out his hand. “It’s sprinkling; and it’s been dry as a bone in this country since about the year one. Now, ain’t that so?”
Denton still held the revolver ready cocked, and again he pointed it at the rascal’s head.
“You know where Panther Pete has his lair. You’ll tell us, or down you go.”
The rascal wriggled and squirmed. Yet this was the thing he wanted.
“I don’t dare to tell,” he protested.
“Why?”
“’Cause Panther Pete would kill me.”
“And I’ll kill you if you don’t. So there you are. Take your choice.”
There was a strange flush of excitement on the face of Denton, and a bright and staring light in his eyes.
Hatfield saw that in his present mental condition Denton was not a man to fool with.
“I’ll shoot you, sure,” said Denton, “if you don’t tell me promptly where Panther Pete is.”
“I—I——” Hatfield stammered, a bit terrified.
“Out with it!”
“I couldn’t tell you, but I might lead ye to—to the place.”
“That’s as good.” Denton turned to Deland.
“It’s sprinklin’,” said Deland joyfully, “by all the frogs of Egypt, it’s actually sprinklin’, and in this country where——”
“Deland, did you hear what he says? That he will guide us to the lair of Panther Pete?” He pointed the pistol again at the head of the prisoner. “Another question,” he said: “Is there a young lady held prisoner there?”
The spy again hesitated.
“Out with it!” shouted Denton.
“Well—yes, there is.”
“It’s the young lady, is it, who was taken last night from Scarlet Gulch—Miss Ellen West?”
“I don’t know her name,” said the spy, “but it’s her; for she was brought from that town.”
“And she’s in that place now, held there by Panther Pete?”
“You’re right. Anyway, she’s there, in one o’ the houses.”
“So they’ve got houses there!” He turned to Deland again. “Get the horses ready, Deland, and this fellow is to be put on mine. I’ll sit behind him, and make him guide the horse and pilot us. And, if he tries any treachery, I’ll shoot a hole through him.”
His voice quivered. He was in deadly earnest.
“Correct ye aire,” said Deland, and he brought up the horses.
“Now, I’m going to untie your feet, so that you can get into that saddle,” said Denton; “but, if you try to get away, I’ll pot you with this pistol. Understand?”
He cast off the cords that held Hatfield’s feet, and the rascal mounted to the saddle agilely enough.
“Now, Deland, give me a lift.”
Deland gave him the “lift,” and Denton secured a seat behind the prisoner.
“Now, Deland, tie his feet under the horse’s belly.”
Hatfield did not like this, but he could not help it, for he had a healthy fear of that big revolver; and his own weapons had been taken away from him.
Deland also mounted, and they were ready to start.
The smoke from the rain bomb had dissipated, but there was a cloudy sky and a threat of rain.
“I’d like to fire off some more of the bombs, and jest see what’d come of it,” said Deland wishfully. “I’ll bet we’d have a flood before night, if I did. But I ought to save ’em, I s’pose, to try fer rain down in the town. That’s why I came there in the first place.You can tell what an awfully dry country it is by seeing the people hurry to the Flash Light.” He laughed humorously, and studied the sky. “By Jove, I’d like to try some more of them bombs!”
He had the “grip” at the saddle horn in front of him as he thus rode forth.
Hatfield smiled to himself, with face turned away. He was not pleased to be tied up so tightly, but he was pleased by the fact that these men had commanded him to lead them to the lair of Panther Pete. He was leading them now toward the “trap” in the rock-girt hollow, where he knew Panther Pete would have sharpshooting riflemen lying in ambush.
Those riflemen, he believed, would cut the riders down with bullets, and he would be free again, and in a very short time.