Ty Jones had been as wise as a fox when he located his ranch house. It sat on high ground, while back of it rose a cliff; so ’at the only way you could get to it without ropes from the back, was through the little ravine. The cliffs circled around to the crick on both sides, and the crick was so full o’ rocks that the’ was only two places a hoss could cross. He had strung barb wire through the cottonwoods in a regular tangle along the crick, and the only places he had to watch in case of an attack, were the ravine and these two fords. He could see for miles in all directions by goin’ to the head o’ the ravine; and you could hardly pick out a purtier place for a last-stand ’n the one he had selected.
The new cabin for the woman was right in front o’ the mouth o’ the ravine, the old cabin a hundred yards or so farther on, the cook-house and the Chink’s quarters to the north o’ this, the mess-hall for the men to the east of this, the barn, wagon-sheds, workshop, and so on, some distance to the south, and the bunk-shack a little to the north of the stables. He had several corrals back o’ the barn and a pasture of about thirty acres shut in by a wire fence.
After I had cooled off a little, I saw that the Friar was right. The thing we couldn’t tell was, just how much they had forced Promotheus to confess. If they had simply got Ty jealous that he was tryin’ to get the woman away, we might make it all the worse by chargin’ down on ’em; while on the other hand he might have told where we were, and Ty might take it into his head to try to get us all. This last would have been the finest thing ’at could happen to us; but the’ was no way to tell; so after eatin’ supper, we went down to the edge o’ the cliff to see what we could see.
We were most of us surprised to see how far the cabin stood from the cliff. In lookin’ down from our look-out, we had failed to take the slope into account so it had looked as though we had been able to see the woman the minute she had come out o’ the mouth of the ravine, while the fact was the cabin stood several hundred feet from the mouth. If it hadn’t been for the confounded dogs, we could have gone down and found out what we wanted to know. We made some remarks about those dogs which would have seared their hair off if they’d ’a’ been a little closer.
The light was kept in the mess-hall long after time to finish eatin’; and we guessed they were tryin’ Promotheus, right while we were lookin’ on from above. All of a sudden, Olaf struck his palm with his fist, and exclaimed: “What a fool I have been! Those dogs remembered Promotheus, and he never patted ’em. I have patted ’em and spoke soothin’ words to ’em, and they would know me. I shall go down and listen.”
Now this was a noble thought and we hadn’t a word to say again’ it; so Olaf went back to camp, shed his boots and put on moccasins. Slim was a good shot with a rifle, so he staid with Horace, who had an elephant gun and a yearnin’ to use it, up on the cliff above the mouth o’ the ravine. They had seven rifles of one kind and another, and they thought they could make a disturbance if Olaf started anything. The rest of us went down the ravine to the last curve. We tried to get the Friar to stay behind; but his blood was up, and he wouldn’t heed us. We had it made up to rope and tie him hand and foot, when we were finally ready to wind things up with Ty Jones.
Olaf left us with his big, hard face set into rigid lines. He had a long score to settle with Ty Jones, and he had made a funny gruntin’ hum in his throat every few steps as we had walked down the ravine. We waited what seemed weeks; but the’ was no uproar, and finally, he came out o’ the gloom, and spoke to us in a whisper. We went back with him to the top o’ the path before he told us what he had heard.
He said they were tryin’ to make Promotheus confess who was back of him; but that Promotheus had steadily refused. He said ’at Ty had told him over and over that if he would tell him where he could lay hands on either the Friar or Dinky Bradford, he would give him a month to get out o’ the country himself; but Promotheus had stood firm, and they had shut him up in the workshop again, tellin’ him he would get nothin’ but water until he did confess.
This made us some easier in our minds. Promotheus had acted so worn out and done up since his return, that he had fooled Ty; and Ty looked upon him as a broke-down man, and nothin’ but a tool in the hands of some stronger men. Olaf said ’at Ty acted as though he thought the Friar had sent in a report to the government, and had got Bradford to come out here the time that Promotheus had disappeared; and in some way they had got word o’ Horace comin’ through Bosco this last time. Dixon had told about seein’ us at Skelty’s, and a strange feller told about bein’ shot at, the night Olaf’s cabin had been fired. They bunched all this together, and decided ’at the best thing to do was to trade Promotheus for Horace or the Friar, if it could be done. I had a chuckle all to myself, when I pictured Horace as he had been when I took him in hand, and now with the reputation he hadn’t quite earned, bein’ a worry to the Ty Jones outfit.
“I allus said they were cowards,” sez Horace, as soon as Olaf had finished his tale. “A man’s got an imagination, and as soon as he starts to live like a wolf, this imagination fills the world with watchdogs. Ty Jones never has fought in the open, and we’ll have no trouble with him as soon as we once get him on the run.”
“Ty Jones has no fear,” sez Olaf. “I know; I have seen with my own eyes. He is too clever to be trapped; but he has no fear.”
“Well, wait and see,” sez Horace.
Me and Tank kept watch on the cliff until mornin’ and then as nothin’ had happened, we went up to camp, and Slim and Dutch took watch at our regular look-out. As we sat down to breakfast, we noticed ’at the Friar was gone. Several spoke of him havin’ been restless the night before and not turnin’ in when the rest did. The Friar allus was unregular in his habits, especially at night; so we didn’t pay much heed to him when he wrote by the fire, or went off by himself in the quiet starlight, to sing some o’ the pressure off his heart; but at such a time as this, we anticipated him to be as circumspect as possible.
We started to hunt him up, but it didn’t take long. Horace found a note pinned to the Friar’s tarp, and the note told us that he had thought it all over careful durin’ the night, and had decided that his duty compelled him to go down and offer himself in exchange for Promotheus. He said that when things came to such a tangle that no human ingenuity could unmix ’em, it was time to put trust in a higher power; that it was for him that Promotheus had risked his life, and that he felt he must take his place, as Ty had promised to let Promotheus go if he would betray him. He said that he could not see any way to help the woman, and that if he lost his life, for us not to think of revenge, as it would all turn out for the best in some mysterious way. The Friar had gone through a lot durin’ the last few years, and it had finally undermined his patience. I knew just how he felt: he wanted something to happen which would end his suspense, and he didn’t care much what it was.
As soon as Horace had finished readin’; we all sat around in complete silence, gawkin’ at each other. “Things has finally come to a head,” sez Spider Kelley, solemnly.
“There now, that’s the Christian religion!” exclaimed Horace. “The Christian religion is founded on self-sacrifice and martyrdom, and all those who get it bad enough spend the bulk o’ their time on the lookout to be martyrs and sacrifice theirselves for something—and they don’t care much what for. Look at the crusades—the flower o’ Europe was lured into the desert and dumped there like worn-out junk, even children were offered up in this sacrifice. Nothing but sentimentality, rank sentimentality. Now, when the ancient Greeks—”
“The thing for us, is to decide on what we’re to do next, not what the ancient Greeks did a few thousand years before we were born,” sez I. “There is no use hidin’ any longer. The strongest card we have up our sleeve is the fake reputation of Dinky Bradford, and what we must do is to make up the best plan to play it.”
“Why do you say fake reputation?” demanded Horace.
“Well, you’re not a government agent, are ya?” I asked.
“No,” sez he; “but at the same time—”
“I didn’t say ’at you was a fake, Horace,” sez I in a soothin’ voice. “I merely intimated that the things Ty Jones most fears about you are the things which were not so.”
“I see what you mean,” sez Horace, “and it’s all right. What’s your plan?”
“Well, as soon as we are sure ’at the Friar has reached Ty’s,” sez I, “we’ll send Ty word to deliver him back at once, and to appoint a meetin’ place to explain things to us. Not make any threats nor bluffs nor nothin’. Just a plain, simple statement of what we want done, and sign your name to it.”
“I think it would be better to tell him we had his place surrounded,” said Horace.
“Nope,” said I, “your old theory is best: let their imaginations supply the details. If we put the government into their minds too strong, they’re likely to find some way to deliver Promotheus over to the law. I have a sort of impediment that The was a little rough with an officer or two, after he deserted, and Ty knows all about him.”
“How the deuce will we get word to Ty?” sez Horace. “As fast as we’d send messengers, Ty would shut ’em up.”
“One thing is certain, at least,” sez I. “Ty won’t string ’em up as long as he knows he’s bein’ watched. And another thing is, that all of Ty’s men are wanted for one thing or another, and the longer we keep ’em in suspense, the sooner they’ll weaken. We ought to send word to the Simpson boys. They are at least two to one again’ us as we stand now.”
Just at this junction, Slim arrived with the news that the Friar was ridin’ up to the ford. I was purty sure ’at he wouldn’t go down by the ravine. The Friar might lack judgment in certain matters; but you could count on him lookin’ out for his friends, every time.
We hustled down to the look-out, and saw the Friar ride out into the open, and hail the house. In a minute the’ was a crowd about him and they pulled him from his hoss and dragged him toward the mess-hall, actin’ mighty jubilant. The dogs raised a consid’able fuss; but they didn’t let any of ’em get to the Friar this time. I don’t know whether they were tryin’ to save the Friar or the dogs.
They took the Friar into the mess-hall, and kept him there a good long time; but I felt sure he wouldn’t tell more ’n he wanted to. Then they brought him out and shut him up in the workshop with Promotheus.
“You don’t see ’em turnin’ Promotheus loose, do ya?” sez ol’ Tank.
“Ty Jones would cheat himself playin’ solitaire,” sez Spider Kelley.
“He didn’t agree to turn Promotheus loose if the Friar surrendered,” sez Olaf. “He only said he would if Promotheus enticed the Friar into a trap.”
Ty Jones certainly did have what ya call personal magnetism. His men stuck up for him, even when they was willin’ to help snuff him out.
We sent Oscar over to get the Simpson boys; and then we made our plans. The’ was no way to get to our camp from above, and we could easy guard the two trails ’at led up from below. Nothin’ would have suited us better ’n to have Ty decide to come and get us; so we told Oscar to make all the fuss he wanted when he came back.
Nothin’ happened down at the ranch that day. The woman drifted about, the same as usual, not seemin’ to observe ’at the’ was anything different from ordinary, and the punchers all stayed in sight. A few of ’em rode up to high spots across the crick and took gappin’s, and a couple of ’em came up the ravine and examined the ground on top; but they didn’t seem to find anything to interest ’em.
That night Horace wrote an order on Ty Jones to release the Friar—we had decided not to mention Promotheus—and Olaf started down with the message. We posted ourselves the same as we had done before; and after about an hour, Olaf returned.
He said he had examined the workshop, which was of logs, the same as the rest o’ the buildin’s, and had heard the Friar and Promotheus talkin’; but hadn’t ventured to say anything for fear they were watched. He said ’at the Friar was holdin’ out on the value o’ fastin’; while Promotheus was speakin’ in defence of ham an’ eggs. Then he said he had crept up to the front door of the old cabin, and had fastened up the order with a dagger.
Olaf looked to me as though he had been enjoyin’ himself a little more ’n his tale gave reason for; so I pressed him, and finally he admitted that there had been a man on watch at the mouth o’ the ravine. He said he had wriggled through it on his belly, thinkin’ it too good a place to be overlooked since the Friar had put ’em on their guard; and after lyin’ still a moment, he had heard the man move. He said he had snaked up to him, and had got him by the throat. He said he thought it was Dixon because the’ was so much throat to get hold of. Dixon had been perfectly resigned to havin’ Olaf lynched that time and Olaf’s memory was not o’ the leaky kind.
“What became of him, Olaf?” I asked.
“Oh, he fought some,” said Olaf.
“Did he get away?” I asked.
“Un, yes—yes he got away,” sez Olaf.
“Where did he go to?” sez I.
“I think he went down—way down,” sez Olaf.
“Down where?” sez I. “Why don’t you tell us what happened to him?”
Olaf looked down at his right hand. It didn’t resemble a hand much; but it would ’a’ been a handy tool to use in maulin’ wedges into a log. “Why,” sez he, “he wriggled about, and started to squeak; and when I squeezed in on his neck to shut off the squeak, why his neck broke. It was too thin to be stout.”
I held out my hand. “Olaf,” I sez, “I want to shake the hand that shook his neck.”
“Yes,” sez Tank, “and by dad, so do I!” Tank’s leg was still tender.
Oscar arrived durin’ the night with the whole four Simpson boys; and word that Kit and the kid were in fine shape, with ol’ man Simpson keepin’ a sharp watch, and Kit ready to take a standpat hand any time trouble crowded too close. We expected to keep Ty busy, and so didn’t worry any about Kit. Before dawn we started the four Simpsons out to make a circle and cross the crick, tellin’ ’em to use their own judgment to some extent; but not to run any risk. We wanted ’em to act like scouts and, if possible, to draw Ty into chasin’ ’em, and then to lead him back to our camp. We could see all of the other side o’ the crick from our look-out.
By dawn the rest of us were down on the edge of the cliff, and we saw ’em find Dixon’s body. They were consid’able excited about it; so we judged they had also read the notice on the door.
“What shall we do, to-day?” asked Horace.
“Shoot dogs,” sez I. “There ain’t any call to play safe any longer, and those dogs are the worst bother we have.”
“All right,” sez Horace. “This will be a good chance for me to see if I’m still in practice. I’m a purty good rifle-shot, Happy.”
I never could quite harden myself to Horace. The change in him was almost as much as that between an egg and a chicken; but yet the’ was still a suggestion of what he had been at first—his side-burns, most likely—and it allus jarred me to see him steamin’ ahead with self-confidence fizzin’ out of his safety valve. He took his elephant gun and trained it on one o’ the dogs which was sniffin’ around the place where Dixon’s body had lain. We were purty well off to the north of the ravine; but it was still a consid’able angle of a down-shot, and a good long one too.
“Remember,” sez I, “that when shootin’ down grade, you are mighty apt to shoot too high.”
He lowered his gun an’ looked at me as though I had called him a girl baby. “I have shot from every angle the’ is,” sez he; “and I’ve shot big game, too.”
“Ex-cuseme!” sez I. “Shoot now, and let’s see what happens.”
You had to take off your hat to Horace when it came to a cultivated taste in firearms. The thing he had got Promotheus with had been small enough to conceal in your back hair, while his present instrument wasn’t rightly a rifle at all, it was a half-grown cannon. It shot a bullet as big as your thumb which mushroomed out and exploded, as soon as it hit. The dog died a merciful death; but he left a mighty disquietin’ bunch o’ remains.
“Good boy, Horace!” I said, slappin’ him on the shoulder. “You keep on removin’ the dogs, and I’ll go up the slope, and pertect your rear, should they try to come up the ravine.”
I heartily endorsed this slaughter o’ the dogs; but I wasn’t ambitious to see it done. I have been well acquainted with a large number o’ dogs of all sorts and sizes, and I have deep feelin’s for dogs. When it comes to livin’ accordin’ to a feller’s own standard, a dog has us all beat. When a dog signs up, he don’t whisper nothin’ under his breath. He signs up for the full trip, and he don’t ask a lot o’ questions about how long the hours’ll be, or what sort o’ grub and quarters and pay he’ll draw. He just wags his tail, and sez: “This here feller is my idea of exactly what a feller ought to be; and I’m for him in all he does. If he wants me to fight, I’m hungry for it, if he wants me to be polite and swaller a lot o’ insults, I’ll do it, or if the time comes when my death is worth more to him ’n my life, why, I don’t know nothin’ about future rewards or such truck; but I’m perfectly willin’ to swap life for death in his name, and I’m proud to take the consequences—so long as he gets the reward.”
I own up ’at a dog has no morality; he’s only a reflection of his master. A decent man has a decent dog, a vicious man has a vicious dog—and this is why it would have hurt me more to watch Horace testin’ his aim on the dogs ’n it would if he had been minded to pot a few Cross-branders themselves, especially Ty Jones.
Now, the sound o’ this gun, and the sight of the dead dog made things buzz down below. The men peered out from all directions, but hardly knew what to do. I had sent Mexican Slim off to the right, just above the ravine, to pick off any dogs ’at came in that direction, and soon after Horace got his, Slim also got one; and Ty whistled the dogs to come to the house. Here was where his method of treatin’ a dog showed up bad. Any time before this, a dog which so much as set foot on the porch had been belted with anything capable of inflictin’ pain, and now they refused to go inside.
The Chink was able to whistle ’em to the cook-house; but that was as far as they’d go; and while they were standin’ in a bunch, Horace and Slim each got one. Ty was standin’ near one o’ the poles which upheld the back porch, and Horace exploded a slab from this pole in such a way that it knocked Ty down. This put the whole bunch into a consternation. Horace certainly could shoot some. It made me think o’ the poorhouse, when I reflected on what it had cost him to learn how.
Nothin’ much happened that day. Horace and Slim stuck to their knittin’, and the Simpson boys played their part well. They rode in a bunch, and when they’d come in sight o’ the ranch house, one would hold the field-glass case to his eyes, as though lookin’ through the field glasses, and another would turn and wave his hands, as though signallin’ to some one up in the hills. Once, two punchers went to the corral and saddled hosses; but Horace shot one o’ the hosses, and both men flew for the stable without waitin’ to take off the saddles. They had never seen such wounds as Horace’s elephant gun created, and it put ’em in a mighty thoughtful mood.
The Simpson boys came in soon after dark; and we all held a council of war while eatin’ supper. I was purty certain that we had a better bunch o’ men than those we were fightin’. It is no test of nerve to kill a man: a lot o’ men who got the reputation o’ bein’ bad were nothin’ but accidents or sneaks; but when you have to stick through a slow fight without knowin’ the odds again’ ya, it gives your nerve a mighty searchin’ try-out. I had hopes that after a day or so, they’d be certain that the hills on all sides of ’em were full of enemies, and they’d be mighty glad to settle on our terms. I didn’t want to kill a single man more ’n was necessary. Horace also thought we could wear out their nerve; but Olaf shook his head.
“Some o’ the punchers may desert in the night,” sez he; “but as long as a single one remains to stand back to back with Ty Jones, Ty Jones’ll stay and fight. He has no fear—I have seen.”
“The question is this,” sez I, “if those fellers are the kind to get fiercer the longer they’re kept in suspense, the thing to do is to raid ’em to-night; but, on the other hand, if they’re the kind whose nerve evaporates when it is kept uncovered, the thing to do is to wear ’em down. Let’s vote on it.”
We decided to do some more wearin’; so we kept a guard at the camp, and the rest of us went down to the cliff, and tossed over stones to where we thought they’d be hid, providin’ they had put guards at the mouth of the ravine. We raised a yelp the first throw, and heard a rush o’ men from the new cabin, though the shadow was so dense down below we couldn’t see a thing. This showed us that some o’ the dogs still survived and were bein’ used as guards, and also that there were men quartered in the woman’s cabin. This was a bother, as it would force us to be careful until we found out where she was livin’.
We posted a guard at the top of the path leadin’ up from the ravine, another at our camp, and went to sleep, feelin’ purty tol’able well fixed. Nothin’ happened that night, and the next day, we made ready to do about the same as we had done the day before; but when we reached the cliff, the’ wasn’t a sign o’ life below—not a single, breathin’ thing in sight, not even a hoss in the pasture.
“They’ve got away!” exclaimed Horace.
“Where to?” sez Olaf. “Ty Jones hasn’t any more use for the law ’n we have, and you’ll never make me believe ’at he’s pulled out and left all his belongin’s for whoever wants ’em.”
“That’s so,” sez I; “but where the deuce are they?”
We watched all mornin’; but not a sign, not a bit o’ smoke from the cook-house, just the ranch buildin’s settin’ there as deserted as the Garden of Eden. The Simpsons were workin’ their stunts across the crick; so about ten in the mornin’, Slim and Dutch rode over to tell ’em to come in, as they would look mighty foolish, providin’ they were makin’ signals to one of the hills where the Cross-branders themselves were hid.
After eatin’ dinner, the rest of us went down to the lookout, Horace shoulderin’ his elephant exterminator, and lookin’ peevish and fretful, ’cause the’ was nothin’ to shoot at. “Boys,” sez I, “do ya suppose ’at poor old Promotheus has been goin’ all this time on nothin’ but water.”
“He’s gone longer ’n this on nothing but water,” sez Horace; “and so have I. Over in Africa, once, we sent a tribe o’ blacks around to beat some lions out for us; but they fell in with another tribe who were not friendly, and they just kept on goin’. Promotheus and I were lost from everything, and we got into a desert before we found a way out. We went for I don’t know how long without water. Anyway, we went long enough to get into that numb condition when the earth becomes molten copper, and the sky a sun glass, and a man himself feels like another man’s nightmare. That tender old Promotheus you’re sympathizin’ with, carried me the best part of a day, or a century—time had melted entirely away—and when we came back to our senses we lay beside a pool of water. He’s tough, Promotheus is.”
“At the same time,” sez Tank, “settin’ cooped up in a log hut with nothin’ to cheer ya but water, isn’t my idy of havin’ high jinks.”
“Perhaps, too,” sez Spider Kelley, who didn’t have enough sense of fitness to change a nickel, “those mongrel coyotes lynched both him an’ the Friar before they vamosed.”
“They wouldn’t do that,” sez Olaf; “but I wish we knew what they had done.”
“Let’s go and shoot at the old cabin or the bunk-shack,” sez Oscar.
“I move we wait, and raid ’em to-night,” sez I, and this was what we decided to do.
The rest of us lolled about purty patient—as active men, an’ beasts too, are likely to do when the’s nothin’ on hand—but Horace who had lived in a room most of his life, hadn’t quite learned to turn off his steam when he hadn’t any use for it; so he kept bobbin’ up and fussin’ about. All of a sudden, he gave a sort of gasp, and pointed up the slope.
We looked and saw one man crouched over and runnin’ along where the south trail to our camp swung around a crag; and we sprang to our feet, and looked up at the camp. As we looked, the face of Ty Jones with a grin on it, poked up over a stone and leered down at us most exasperatin’.
Now, you can mighty easy understand that this was a fair sized, able-bodied, bite-and-kick consternation for us, if ever the’ was one in the world. Our look-out was behind a ridge which sheltered it complete from below, but left it as open from above as the straw hat which Stutterin’ Sam made the dude crawl through. Up above us, lookin’ down from the rocks in front of our camp was Ty Jones, grinnin’ as self-composed an’ satisfied as a cat which has just removed all evidence of there ever havin’ been any Canary birds; and truth to tell, we felt as indiscriminate and embarrassed as a naked man at a dance party.
All we saw was just Ty and his grin. We knew the’ was one other man with him, but that was all we did know; while our strength was as plain to them, as Tillte Dutch was the time he fell in love and used iodaform on his hair instead o’ perfume. We just stood and looked up at Ty, and then we turned our heads and looked at each other, and I never saw as many stupid expressions in one mess. We felt as though every minute was liable to be our next.
Whenever ol’ Tank Williams was surprised or puzzled or wrastlin’ with his own thoughts, he allus put me in mind of a picture I once saw of a walrus. The walrus was loungin’ up on a rock, and he looked as solemn and philosophical as though some young snip of a school boy had tested his intellect by askin’ him what two times one made. I never saw Tank look so much like the walrus as he did this time ’at Ty Jones surprised us. O’ course Tank’s teeth was different, but his mustaches stuck down in much the same way, and when I looked at him, I busted out laughin’, though I own up I was scared enough to stampede the moment before. When I laughed, it seemed to break the charm, and before I buttoned up my lips again, Horace had pulled up his elephant gun, and taken a blast at Ty’s grin. Ty pulled down his face behind the stone as soon as Horace aimed at him; but the range was long enough to strain even such a devil-tool as this half-grown cannon, so nothin’ came of it.
After my chuckle, I began to think in streams. The ground to the right of us—as we looked up towards Ty—was broken, and it occurred to me that he had been holdin’ us with his grin so as to give some of his men time to sneak down and cut us off, he and the balance were above us, the ravine to our left, and straight back of us the cliff. We couldn’t stick where we were again’ odds, and there wasn’t any water in the clump of rocks which faced the path where it come out of the ravine. As I ran over these details in my mind, I had as little temptation to laugh as I ever did have; but the second I thought of the clump o’ rocks facin’ the path, I saw that the path itself was the answer.
There was no reason to hurry, as far as I could see; they could not come to us without exposin’ themselves, and every moment we waited, the closer would come Dutch, Slim, and the four Simpson boys. To the right of us, as I said, the ground was broken, and here was where they would be most likely to sneak down on us. By goin’ in a diagonal direction, we could get to where we could see straight up the washes which made up this broken ground, and so know what we had to fight.
“Come on, fellers,” sez I, climbin’ up over the ridge.
“Where ya goin’?” sez Horace.
I sat down on top o’ the ridge. “Have you got any plan?” sez I calmly.
“No,” sez he, “I haven’t; but I’d like to know—”
“If you’re willin’ to take charge,” sez I, “why, go ahead, and I’ll obey orders; but I don’t care how small the body is, it can’t do quick work with more ’n one head, as you ought to know better ’n any of us—it havin’ been tried frequent in those Greek tales you’re all the time inflictin’ us with.”
Horace put his back up a little. “I’m willin’ to agree to anything reasonable,” sez he; “but I don’t see any sense in leavin’ this spot until we know where we’re goin’.”
I folded my fingers together, set my thumbs to chasin’ each other, and began to whistle. I wasn’t jealous of Horace; but it just occurred to me that I had handled men before he’d mustered up courage enough to stay out after seven o’clock P. M. without gettin’ his mother’s permission, and I wanted to test the others and see if they thought he had picked up more craft in three years ’n I had in a lifetime; so I whistled the tune to his song, and looked up at the clouds.
“What’s your idee, Happy?” sez ol’ Tank. I had nourished Tank on thought-food for a good long session, and I knew he’d feel mighty much like a lost calf if I left him to rustle up his own idees; so I just gave my hands a little toss and kept on with my whistlin’.
“Aw, don’t be so blame touchy,” sez Spider Kelley. I had pulled Spider through a number o’ tight places, also, and I knew he’d soon begin to feel trapped up and smothery, if I left him to sweat out his own idees for a few minutes longer; so I gave him the same gesture I had bestowed on Tank.
“What do you think we’d better do, Olaf?” sez Horace.
Olaf looked all around but did not see anything. “They have come up the ravine, took the path up the other side, through the clump o’ trees, made a wide circle and got to our camp,” sez Olaf. “If we try to get away, they cut us off. If we stay here, we die for want of water. If we rush up the hill, they shoot us from behind the rocks. All I can see is to wait until night, and then make a rush for it.”
“Well, that don’t look like much of an idee to me,” sez Horace. I kept on whistlin’.
“I move we foller Happy,” sez Spider Kelley.
“I second the motion,” sez Tank.
“I’m willin’ to,” sez Olaf, and Oscar nodded his head. This was about all Oscar ever used his head for except to hang his hat on; but he was a good boy and sizey.
“All right,” sez Horace. “Now then, Happy Hawkins, the responsibility is on you.”
“Now, be sure you mean this,” sez I; “for my plan is a foolish one, and I don’t care to explain each step. I don’t claim ’at my scheme is the best; but my experience has been, that a poor plan carried out beats a good plan which never came in. Climb up here, and we’ll walk off in that direction without lookin’ behind us.”
They couldn’t see any sense in this; but they follered me without chatterin’, and I was satisfied. Horace had the field glasses in his pocket; so when we had reached the place I thought would do, I set him to lookin’ across the crick careful to see if he could see anything. All the others watched him, and I got behind and looked up the slope. I saw several men hidin’ in the washes, and I said in a low tone: “Keep on lookin’ across the hill, Horace. Now, you others get out from behind him. Now, Horace, whirl and examine the washes up the slope and see how many men you can count.”
Horace whirled, as did all the rest of ’em, and we found seven fellers in sight. We figured ’at there must be at least fifteen Cross-branders in the neighborhood, and probably more, and the ones we were able to see in the washes convinced me ’at Ty had staked everything on gettin’ us cornered. They didn’t have enough to split up, so I felt sure they would leave the ravine open, not thinkin’ it likely we’d try to go down there.
“Now,” sez I, “let’s go to that clump o’ rocks and hide.” They all came along; but didn’t seem enthusiastic, because the washes led down close to the rocks—we, ourselves, havin’ sneaked down ’em while we were waitin’ for the woman that day. We couldn’t see the path the boys would take in comin’ up to our camp from across the crick, while the Cross-branders could see ’em a good part o’ the way, and this fretted me a lot; though I hoped they had heard Horace’s elephant gun.
After a time, Horace, through the glasses, saw a feller’s head watchin’ us from our old look-out; so we knew they had crept up along the back o’ that ridge. Then we heard consid’able shootin’ off to the right, and knew the boys had got back. There were several good places for ambush, and we felt purty blue at what had most likely happened; but they were on hossback, and would be on their guard after knowin’ ’at the Cross-branders were up to some trick; so we hoped for the best.
This clump o’ rocks we were in was composed of one big crag and a lot o’ little ones. The big one shut off our view, and finally Horace said it would be a good plan to get on top of it, as the chances were we could get a good view in all directions. It was fifteen feet up to where the’ was footin’, and we didn’t see how it could be done; but he said it was simple; so we let him try it. He made Olaf and Tank face the rock, holdin’ on to each other. Then I climbed to their shoulders and they passed up Horace. I handed him up as far as I could reach, and it was as simple as peelin’ a banana. The signal was for him to drop a pebble when he wanted to come down.
In about two moments a stone the size o’ your fist fell on Oscar’s head; which was a good thing, for it might otherwise have hurt a head we had more use for. We laddered ourselves again’ the rock, and Horace came down without missin’ a single one of our ears. When he reached the level, he put his finger on his lips, and said he had seen ten men sneakin’ up toward the rock and only a few hundred feet away. Oscar was still holdin’ to the lump on his head, so Horace explained ’at the’ hadn’t been any pebbles on top the crag.
“Now, what ya goin’ to do?” asked Horace to me.
“You, Olaf, and Oscar go around the rock to the left,” sez I; “and Tank, Spider, and I’ll go around to the right. Each fire only once, and then run around the rock again and make for the path leadin’ down into the ravine. Keep close together all the way.”
“The ravine!” exclaimed Spider.
“Sure,” sez I.
“All right,” sez Spider, draggin’ out the “all” until it would do for “I told ya so,” in case we got pocketed.
It worked fine; we flew around, surprised ’em, shot a volley into ’em, made ’em seek cover, and then we flew for the head o’ the path. Ol’ Tank, with his damaged prop, was as nimble as a one-legged Norman hoss, and Horace was loaded down with elephant ammunition; so that it was wise to have all the time we could get. Ty and five others jumped up from our look-out, and tried to head us off; but they had to go twice as far as we did. Ty and two others had rifles, and they stopped and took shots at us, but nothin’ came of it.
“Hurry on to the ranch buildin’s,” I called as we went down the path. Then I turned back, to see what they were doin’.
“Let me take a shot at ’em,” sez Horace’s voice at my elbow.
“Why didn’t you go on with the rest?” sez I. “I can give you half way and beat you runnin’.”
“Let me take just one shot,” sez Horace, so I gave in and let him. Two fellers were runnin’ at a long angle toward the mouth o’ the ravine to head us off, and get a shot from above; so I told him to try for one o’ them. He fiddled with his hind sight as calm as though shootin’ for a Christmas turkey, and hanged if he didn’t topple one over. The other stopped, and then ran back with his head ducked low to the ground, while the wounded one crawled behind a rock.
“Now dust for the buildin’s,” sez I; “and don’t try any more nonsense. Let me carry the weapon, and you won’t be so overloaded. I’ll start after you in a jiffy.”
When I looked back, I saw that all of ’em had slowed down consid’able, out o’ respect to the elephant gun; but I could still count seventeen, so we hadn’t seen ’em all before. When they started towards the head of the path again, I took a shot at Ty Jones; but I didn’t savvy the rear sight, and all it did was to make ’em slow down once more. Then I slid down the path and hot-footed it down the ravine. I saw signs o’ hosses, so I knew they had rode most of their trip, and would be in a position to circle around all they wanted to.
I soon caught up with the others, and Tank was puffin’ purty freely. All the rest were runnin’ easy, and we came out o’ the mouth o’ the ravine without seein’ a single soul. Now, we hardly knew what to do. It was about the same distance from the mouth o’ the ravine to the first curve in it, as it was to the woman’s cabin; so I told Spider to stay at the corner o’ the cabin, and watch that curve.
Then we went around and found the door locked. We called twice to the woman, but the’ was no reply; so Olaf picked up a big stone and knocked off the lock. We made a quick examination; but the’ was no one there. I posted Horace and Spider in this cabin to watch the mouth o’ the ravine through the window facin’ it, and to shoot into ’em, should they foller us close.
We next went to the big house, where we had more trouble as everything was fastened with bars on the inside, except the front door which had an immense padlock on the outside. We finally broke it off, and out dashed three o’ their confounded dogs. We killed ’em, and went inside; but the’ was no one else there. Next we went to the workshop, and after breakin’ off the padlock, we found the Friar and Promotheus gagged and tied. The Friar was sad, and Promotheus was mad. We sent ’em up to the cook-shack to get on speakin’ terms with food again, and rummaged the rest o’ the buildin’s; but could find neither the woman nor the Chink, and by the time we were through, it was gettin’ along towards dark.
I set Tank to cookin’ a meal while the rest of us carried logs and piled ’em in the mouth o’ the ravine. It would be moonlight up to ten o’clock, and after that I intended to have a fire to see by. We also set up some logs at each o’ the two fords. After supper we divided into two equal groups o’ four each, to stand guard, each man to watch two hours, one at the window of the new cabin, the other from the porch of the old one, where a view across both fords could be had.
The Friar was purty downcast at our not bein’ able to find the woman, and at our still bein’ in a state o’ war; but he didn’t kick none. He promised not to go over and surrender himself any more, and said he would stand guard careful, and warn us the first thing ’at happened. We decided ’at they would probably attack us that night, and we finally chose the old shack, as it had water piped into it from a spring a hundred yards above. I figured ’at they’d be most apt to come down the ravine, so I picked out the Friar, Olaf, and Tank to help me watch it, and the others to take turns watchin’ the fords.
About half past nine, we lit the fires and turned in, with Oscar on the porch, and Olaf at the window of the new cabin. I thought they wouldn’t come before two o’clock, and had it arranged so ’at the last ford watches would be held by Spider and Promotheus.
I wasn’t sleepy, and lyin’ stretched out is the worst cure for sleeplessness ’at ever I tried; so after twistin’ about for a while, I got up and took a look around. Oscar hadn’t seen a thing, which I took to be a mighty encouragin’ sign. Mostly, when you set a boy on guard he rouses ya out to meet the enemy every fifteen minutes, and then goes to sleep just before the enemy actually does arrive; but Olaf had trained Oscar to do what he was told, as he was told—when he was told—and then not to talk about it for a couple o’ years afterward. Oscar was reliable to a degree; but for conversational purposes, I’d sooner have been shipwrecked with a brindle bull pup.
I didn’t have any doubts of Olaf; but I dropped in to see what sort of a view he had, now that it had got dark. The fire was burnin’ high, and the ravine was as bright as day. Enough o’ the fire would last until mornin’ to give a good view, so I strolled down around the bunk-shack and stables. I saw a form movin’ in the shadow o’ the cottonwoods, and stalked it careful, finally gettin’ close enough to make out the Friar.
“Can’t ya sleep, Friar?” sez I.
“No, no, I can’t sleep,” sez he with a sigh. “Where do you think she is, Happy?”
“They probably took her with ’em; and left the Chink to guard her, back in the hills,” sez I. “No matter what happens, they’re not liable to harm her.”
“It’s sore hard to be patient,” sez the Friar. “I am honestly opposed to all violence and bloodshed. I have allus believed that all wars were useless and unnecessary; but it’s sometimes hard for me to love my enemies.”
“You’re just worried and can’t see clear,” sez I soothin’ly. “It’s plain enough if you just think it out—that’s the best part o’ religion. One place it sez: ‘Love your enemies.’ In another it sez: ‘Foller the Lord’s example.’ In still another it sez: ‘Whom he loves, he chasteneth’—which you said meant to punish. Now then, you have it all worked out: the proper way to love your enemy is to punish him; and, accordin’ to this rule, we’re goin’ to love the hide off o’ one o’ your enemies, if so be we’re able to do it.”
But the Friar never would stand for havin’ his religion doctored to suit the taste, he had to take it as stiff and raw as alcohol, where he was concerned, himself; so he turned in and explained things to me until from my standpoint, misery was the only religious excuse a feller had for bein’ happy.
By this, it was time to change watches, so the Friar relieved Olaf, while Horace and his elephant-pest went out on the front porch to watch the fords, and I turned in. None of us took our boots off that night; we had a little fire in the big room, and slept on the floor, holdin’ our belts in our hands. I drowsed off quick enough this time, knowin’ ’at Tank and Promotheus would be next on watch and certain not to let anything surprise them.
Sure enough, just about the time we had slept ourselves into complete forgetfulness, we were all jerked to our feet by the first shot Tank fired, and this one shot was followed by a bunch of others. The Cross-branders had crept down the ravine, and a little after three when the fire had burned low, they had tried to get by unnoticed. Ol’ Tank only had one eye, but it was a workin’ eye, if ever the’ was one, and he shot two of ’em with one o’ their own rifles, and when they rushed him in a body, spreadin’ out wide, he retreated to the old cabin, accordin’ to directions.
The old cabin had loopholes in it, and we had found three fairly good rifles, but not much ammunition. We didn’t waste any shots while it was still dark; but they fired at us now and again. They had brought the five rifles we had left at our camp, and used ’em freely. Slim had taken the other rifle with him.
All durin’ that day they broke the monotony by takin’ frequent shots at us; but the logs in the cabin had been matched up for just such a purpose, and not one of us was even scratched with a splinter. What we were most afraid of was, ’at they would find some way to set fire to the cabin, and we counted on that bein’ one o’ the night’s diversities.
There were three good sized rooms in the old cabin which was only one story high. One big room occupied the full south half o’ the cabin, a bedroom was in the northeast corner, and a library in the northwest corner. Yes, sir, a regular library, and the Friar and Horace both said it was a choice collection o’ books. Horace showed us one book which had a photograph of the original Prometheus chained to a rock with the vultures peckin’ at his liver, and he certainly must have been some man to stand it. This picture made The’s eyes light up consid’able.
The’ was also some chromos of naked stone images on the wall, which the Friar and Horace called mighty fine copies. They were purty well dumb-founded to find ’at Ty Jones didn’t live as much like a bob-cat as they’d thought. Under the book shelves was a row o’ locked drawers. They stuck out farther than the shelves above ’em, and we wanted to pry ’em open to see what was inside; but the Friar wouldn’t let us.
That was a wearin’ day, and we were all glad when it finally dragged itself to the lake o’ darkness, and dove in. We had our minds made up for a busy night, but waitin’ for trouble is more crampin’ to the soul than bein’ in the midst of it, so we felt cheerfuller as soon as night actually settled down.
We didn’t dare have a fire in the fireplace, for fear it would show ’em our loopholes, and we didn’t care to advertise these any more ’n was necessary; but we set a lighted candle far back in the fireplace, to see to load by. The fireplace was across the southwest corner o’ the big room. There were no loopholes in the library, but we feared the light might leak through a chink in the window shutter, so we didn’t have any light there. We kept one man watchin’ through loopholes in the bedroom, and two watchin’ in the big room, and were able to cover the whole neighborhood.
The cook-shack was the nearest buildin’, and only the two loopholes in the north end o’ the bedroom covered that; so we decided to fling the library window open and fire through that, in case they made a rush from that direction. We knew they wouldn’t be likely to start anything until after eleven, as the moon wouldn’t set until then, so we stretched out on the floor, leavin’ Oscar, Horace, and Spider on watch.
When a feller has been keepin’ his attention wound up for several days, his mainspring finally gets strained, and the cogs in his head get to cuttin’ up regardless. I managed to get a purty fair dab o’ sleep; but it seemed as though I dove straight out o’ wakefulness into a dream, and it was some the rottenest dream I ever had. I dreamed that Ty Jones had come and stooped over me and asked me what I thought o’ the way he had conducted his life. In a dream a feller is apt to do the foolest things imaginable, so I looked up into Ty’s face and told him my true opinion. I sez to him: “Ty, if your brains were blastin’ powder, they wouldn’t make enough explosion to raise your hat.”
Ty didn’t take kindly to this opinion; so he jumped into the air and lightin’ on my face, began to trample it with his heels. The discomfort of this wakened me; but at first I didn’t know I was awake. Several men had been actually tramplin’ on me, and the’ was a general fight takin’ place in that room which was hard to make head or tail of.
In the flickerin’ candle rays, it was mighty bothersome to tell who from which; so the’ was no shootin’. Aside from Ty and Pepper Kendal, we averaged bigger ’n they did, except Horace and Spider. Spider had length but he ran small in the arms and legs, while Horace was twenty-two caliber any way you looked at him. They abused Horace some consid’able, and he got kicked and trampled on purty liberal; but he was of terrier blood, and the second or third time he got kicked into a corner, he crawled out on his hands an’ knees, picked out a pair o’ legs which was strange to him, wrapped his arms about ’em, and fetched their owner to the floor with a thump. I spared enough time to knock the feller on the head; and then Horace played his trick over again.
Olaf was a mad bull in a mix-up like this—Horace said he had beershirker blood in him, and this must be good stuff for it made Olaf grin when Horace accused him of it. O’ course the’ ain’t much head or tail to such a fight, and in lookin’ back on it, it’s just like spurtin’ the pages of a picture-book with your thumb and tryin’ to observe the pictures. I saw the Friar leanin’ again’ the mantel-piece with a hurt look on his face; and it disgusted me.
In times o’ peace, I respected his prejudice again’ violence; but this was no time for foolishness, and I recall mutterin’ to myself a wish that Horace might have the loan of his big body for the next half hour. I saw Olaf knock down two men with one blow, I saw The save ol’ Tank’s life, just as a half-breed was about to knife him from behind; but for the most part it was just about as orderly a mess as a popper-ful o’ corn over a bed o’ coals.
The fight didn’t last more ’n five or ten minutes. They had banked on surprisin’ us; and when this failed they were ready to back out. I afterward found out that it was the Friar who had caught sight of ’em first, he not’ bein’ able to sleep.
Ty and Pepper Kendal were the last to leave the big room; and when their own men were out of it, they opened fire on us; we fired back, and when they backed into the library where the rest o’ their gang had disappeared, we made a rush for ’em. I supposed they had come in through the library window, and I called for a candle, hopin’ to grab Ty before he could get out.
Spider Kelley had already picked up the candle, and he had it in the doorway in a second. The big drawers at the bottom o’ the bookcase were swung back, showin’ a stairway behind ’em, and Ty Jones stood at the top with Pepper Kendal just behind him. I dove through the air, catchin’ Ty’s wrist with my left hand and his throat with my right, Pepper Kendal bent his gun on me, Olaf grabbed the gun which was fired just as The grabbed Pepper’s arms. It looked to me as though the bullet must have gone into Olaf’s head; but just then we tripped, rolled down the stairs and the imitation drawers swung to behind us.
All holts were broke on the way down, and when I reached the bottom, I lay as quiet as a frozen moonbeam. I heard steps runnin’ away from me in the dark, and presently the legs of the man next to me moved, and he got up. I rose to a crouchin’ position, held my arm above my head, and whispered, “Who is this?”
For answer, I got a smash on the arm with the butt of a forty-five which drove it down again’ my head hard enough to bring me to my knees and wake up my horse-sense. I might ’a’ known they’d have a signal.
I waited with my back again’ the wall until the silence began to soak into my nerve. One o’ my guns had got lost durin’ the mess upstairs; but I still had the other, and when I closed my grip around it, it seemed like I was shakin’ hands with my best friend. As far as I could discover I hadn’t been shot; but several knife-cuts and bruises began to hum little tunes which wasn’t in nowise cheerin’. I just simply don’t like to be kept waitin’ in the dark!
After a bit I reached my hand out cautious, and felt the heel of a ridin’ boot. I examined as careful as though the feller inside the boot was a disguised bear-trap; but the’ was no need. His neck was broke. I felt of his face, and it was soft and smooth. The face of the young feller with the boy’s eyes, I had seen put to bed drunk that night at Skelty’s, flashed across me, and I gave a sigh; but I had too much on my mind to turn soft, so I began to feel around again.
Presently my fingers struck the heel of another boot. I shut down on my bellows until the breath didn’t get down past the top inch o’ my neck, and I was as gentle with the heel o’ that boot, as though it was a bitin’ man’s eyeball; because I sure felt a quiver in it. I slid my fingers up that boot a quarter inch at a time, and I didn’t use no more rudeness ’n a mouse would use in tryin’ to sneak a cheese piller out from under a sleepin’ cat. When my fingers finally struck corduroy, I purt nigh gave a shout, for this was what Promotheus wore.
It allus embarrasses a man to be felt over in the dark, so I took my time with The; but after locatin’ both hands and his crooked mouth, I discovered he’d been knocked out complete. I rubbed his wrists until he began to moan, and then I pinched his nose until he was able to notice my name when I whispered. He had bumped his head in fallin’, and it made him sick to the stomach; so while he was gettin’ tuned up again, I prospected around.
I crawled up the stairs but couldn’t hear a sound, I scratched with my fingers, knocked softly, and pushed until my eyes began to hurt; so I knew ’at the only way out for us was to follow the Cross-branders. Things had happened so sudden up above that I hadn’t an idy as to how many were fightin’ us; but I was still purty certain that a fair sized bunch had run out the tunnel just as I dove into it, and I didn’t choose to bump into ’em in the dark.
When I came down the stairs, The felt able again; so we started to prospect. We agreed that strikin’ our teeth together would be our signal, and then we made our examination. The right side o’ the tunnel was smooth, the way Nature works, the left side was rough, and indicated man’s doin’s. Aside from us two, the only other one in the tunnel was the boy with the broken neck; but the tunnel opened into a big cave, and we didn’t know what to do about it.
Finally we started around the right hand wall, me crawlin’ first, and The’s fingers touchin’ my boot at every move. After goin’ some distance, a great, straggly gray form rose up from the floor o’ the cave, and gave me a shock which stopped my entire works. I kept my presence o’ mind all right; but I’d ’a’ been mighty glad to swap it off for absence of body. This was a most ghastly lookin’ form, and I nestled up again’ the side o’ the wall, and felt my hand back for The. He crawled up alongside o’ me, and when he spied it, he gave a start which made his teeth click. “What’s that?” he whispered.
It’s funny how the mind works. This form didn’t resemble anything earthly; so I hadn’t really tried to figure on it much; but when The threw his question at me, I looked at the shape more careful, and grew ashamed o’ myself. Here was I, a feller who had spent consid’able time around mines, and yet had got all balled up over seein’ things underground.
“That’s your old friend, daylight, comin’ down through a hole, The,” I whispered so prompt that I doubt if he noticed any gap.
He gave a sniff through his nose, and then we crept on to where this light was comin’ in through the opposite tunnel. It was mighty weak and sickly lookin’ light, but the outline o’ the tunnel mouth soon got perfectly plain to us. Every few inches we stopped to listen; but we got clear to the mouth without hearin’ anything. Then we paused. Just at that time, I’d have given right smart to have had my eyes fastened on like those of a lobster I once saw in a window down at Frisco. This insect had his eyes fixed to the ends o’ fingers which he could stretch out in any direction.
To be honest, I felt some reluctant to push my face around that corner; but when I did there wasn’t a thing in sight. The tunnel stretched ahead of us for what seemed miles, but we couldn’t see the outer openin’, although the light was strong enough to recognize each other by. The was a sight, for the bump on his head had leaked continuous; but it hadn’t disabled him none, so we drew back to consult a little.
If we had known whether they were ahead or behind us, it would have been easy to decide; but under the circumstances, we hardly knew what to do. Bein’ in the dark was one thing; but bein’ out where we could be seen was still another; so we thought full and deep.
After a few minutes I told The a little story about a feller I helped to pick up after he had jumped from a thirty-foot ledge onto a pile o’ stone. “Why did you do it?” sez I. He blinked his eyes at me a time ’r two, hove a long sigh, an’ said: “The’ was a purple dragon in front o’ me, a lot o’ long-legged yaller snakes back o’ me, and the peskiest pink jack-rabbit you ever saw kept swoopin’ into my face an’ peckin’ at my eyes. If I ever drink another drop, I hope it’ll drown me.”
The considered this story careful, an’ then we crawled out into the tunnel, rose to our feet, an’ ran along crouchin’. The tunnel ran upward at a sharp incline, which was why the light came down it so far. We kept to the right wall, and after goin’ some distance, we came across a small cave. In this we found another dead Cross-brander; but we weren’t enough interested in him to risk strikin’ a light; so we sat down a moment to rest and listen.
Presently we noticed some curious noises, but for some minutes we couldn’t decide on what they were. Suddenly The grabbed my wrist an’ said: “That’s shootin’; that’s what that is!”
It was as plain as home-cookin’ the minute he pointed it out; so we rose to our feet and made a rush for the mouth o’ the cave. We came out about half way up the face o’ the cliff; and for a moment we paused to admire Ty Jones’s foxiness. This openin’ couldn’t be seen from below, nor noticed from above, and for the most part the whole tunnel was natural, only havin’ been hand-widened in three or four places.
The fightin’ was goin’ on near the face o’ the cliff between us an’ the mouth of the ravine; so we circled around until we caught sight of ’em. The first feller we made out was Mexican Slim; so we knew our boys hadn’t been ambushed up above, and this raised our spirits like a balloon. We crept up until we could get good angle-shots, hid ourselves, gave the old Diamond Dot yell, and began to shoot. Ty’s men had been losin’ their bullet-appetite for some time, and they took us to be genuwine reinforcements. They were well planted where they were, but they started to retreat, and we crowded ’em close.
Then it was that Ty made Olaf’s word good: he exposed himself to shots, he rallied his men, and that wolf-grin never left his face; but still the tide had changed, and he had to go back with the rest. The woman, with her hands tied behind her, was in charge o’ the Chink, who was tall and heavy-set with a dark, evil, leathery face. He kept a grin on his face, too, which reminded me most of a rattlesnake at sheddin’ time. He used the woman as a shield, an’ this checked our fire an’ kept us dodgin’ for new positions. Still, all in all, this part o’ the fight was about as satisfactory as any I ever took part in.
Finally they retreated to the dip where the tunnel came out, and we had to skirmish up the rocks to keep our vantage. Soon we discovered that Ty had lost control of his men. He, Pepper Kendal, and two others stood in the mouth o’ the tunnel, and took a few shots at us before disappearin’; but six of his men ran straight across the dip, and down the other side toward the crick. Tillte Dutch was standin’ close to me, and I asked him where the hosses were. He said they were tied across the crick just above the upper ford; so I sent him for ’em full speed.
Horace and Tank stayed to watch the mouth o’ the openin’, while the rest of us wrangled the six Cross-branders through the cottonwoods. They had a good start, and so had time to cut the wire and cross the crick toward some broken land on the left. By this time Tillte had tied the reins and thrown ’em over the horns o’ the saddles so as to lead a string, and he came lopin’ into view.
Slim, two o’ the Simpson boys, Olaf, and myself mounted and cut off the six Cross-branders, who were too weary to even scatter. They had had enough and surrendered. We tied their hands, and herded ’em back to the old shack, where Oscar, Spider, and three disabled Cross-branders were runnin’ a little private hospital. We fixed up wounds as well as we could, sat the last six on a bench along the wall, and left Dick Simpson to guard ’em. Spider had been shot and cut consid’able; but he was able to stagger around some, while Oscar had been punctured below the ribs, and things looked bad for him. Olaf had been shot in the head, all right, just as The and I dove down the stairway the night before, but his skull was bullet-proof, so nothin’ came of it.
The Friar had been ransackin’ the locality, and had found one o’ the Simpson boys dead, and one badly hurt. Badly crippled, as we were, we didn’t see any way to get at Ty except to starve him out. First off, we made some coffee, and those who weren’t hurt dangerous were given some side-meat and corn bread; for, truth to tell, we were about once through. We spent the afternoon under a tree half way between the mouth o’ the tunnel, and the old cabin, so as to be handy in case we were needed. After talkin’ it all over, we couldn’t quite see why they had split up, some of ’em tryin’ to escape, and some stayin’ with Ty.
Finally I went to the cabin, durin’ a time the Friar was on watch at the cave mouth, and picked out the weakest lookin’ of the prisoners. I brought him down, and we tortured him with questions until he got fuddled and told us that the two who had stuck to Ty had been so bad hurt, they couldn’t go any farther; but that neither Ty nor Pepper were hurt to speak of.
The fact is, that in a general fight a feller loses his aim complete. We had all aimed at Ty and Pepper the most, and here they were the two not hurt at all. As darkness fell, the Friar couldn’t hold himself in. All afternoon he had done what he could for the wounded; but at thought of the woman spendin’ another night in the cave with those men, he became as wild-eyed as a bronc at his first brandin’. Durin’ the afternoon, Tank had stiffened until he couldn’t do much travelin’; but I saw the Friar had his mind made up to take a plunge, so I tried to fix things to prevent it.
Olaf, two o’ the Simpson boys, Promotheus, Tillte, Slim, Horace, and myself lined up as bein’ still in workin’ order; but while he was in the act of claimin’ to be all right, Slim doubled up in a faint, and we found he had been bad hurt without even himself knowin’ of it; so countin’ Horace who had two black eyes and a shot through the fore-arm, the’ was seven of us able to get about purty nimble. Hid away in the cave, somewhere, were Ty Jones, Pepper Kendal, and the Chink, unhurt so far as we knew, and two others, still probably able to help a little.
We placed a couple o’ logs again’ the fake drawers in the library, and left Tank to take charge of the prisoners and the cabin. Then we rustled up some tarps from the bunk-shack, and prepared to camp near the openin’ with a man allus on guard, to prevent them from comin’ out—and the Friar from goin’ in. We kept a lantern lit under shelter of a rock, and made ready to rest up a bit.
I had told all the fellers to watch the Friar close, for he just simply couldn’t get the upper hand of himself. He tried his best to simmer down and go to sleep, but every few minutes he’d boil over again. I lay awake in my tarp watchin’ him for some time; but I was so sore and weary myself I could scarcely recall what business I was on, and first I knew I had drifted off—and been shook awake again.
Promotheus was bendin’ over me with the news ’at the Friar had decided to go into the tunnel, and they couldn’t hold him back. I sprang up and started for the opening with the rest following me. Dan Simpson had relieved The on watch and when he found what was in the Friar’s mind, he had crept down and told The, who had awakened the rest of us.
We reached the Friar, just as he was goin’ into the openin’. I called to him in a low tone; but he only shook his head. It was eleven o’clock, and the shadow from the moon had already crept out from the base o’ the cliff almost to the openin’. I saw that the Friar had took the bit; so I whispered to the others: “I am goin’ in there with him; but more ’n this would be bad. We’d be in each other’s way. Listen and watch, but do not follow us in.”
“I know the way as well as you, and we could keep side by side,” sez Promotheus; but I shook my head.
He came over to the openin’ and said in a low tone: “I haven’t time to make you understand; but—but I just have to go in with you.”
“If you come, the rest’ll come too,” sez I, exasperated.
“You fellers stay here,” sez he to them in a pleadin’ tone; “but I have reasons. I just have to go in.”
So we shed our boots and started down the incline after the Friar, Promotheus touchin’ my feet with his fingers at every step I crawled. I didn’t want to be there, I couldn’t see how we could do any good; but the Friar had made my world for me, such as it was, and I understood better ’n the rest what was gnawin’ at his heart; so I hadn’t any choice. I had to go in, and somethin’ inside Promotheus drove him in also. The only crumb o’ comfort I could find, lay in the fact that Horace had been winged, and so couldn’t foller us, whether he wanted to or not.