28
“What––what did you come here for?” stammered the justice.
“To get away from––from back there in that cactus-bordered country of black, lava hills where I was born an’ where I belong!” said Rathburn grimly, sliding into a chair on the opposite side of the table from Brown.
“Listen to me! I was driven out. I’ve ridden for a week with the idea of gettin’ where I wasn’t known an’ where I could maybe get a fresh start, and here I find a reward notice staring me in the face from the top of the first hill I cross after leaving Arizona. I’ve never been here before; I’ve done nothing to molest you or your town; but you sic the pack on me first off an’ hand-running, without any reason, except that you’veheardthings about me, I reckon.”
Brown nodded his head as Rathburn finished. A measure of composure returned to him. His eyes gleamed with cunning as he remembered that his front door was unlocked and some one might by chance come in. But he again felt troubled as he conjectured what might happen in such event.
“You cannot blame me,” he said to Rathburn. “You’ve robbed, and you’re a killer–––”
“That’s what youhear?” thundered Rathburn. “I admit several robberies––holdups of crooked, gambling joints like you’ve got in this town, an’ petty-larceny bankers who robbed poor stockmen with sanction of the law. I’ve killed one man who had it coming to him. But I’ve shouldered the blame for every killing an’ every robbery that’s been staged in the desert country for the last three years. ‘The Coyote did it,’ is what they say, an’ the crooks an’ gunmen that turned the deal go free. I’m talking to you, Brown, as man to man––a thing I’ve never done with any mouthpiece of the law before.29I’m trying to show you how you an’ your kind can make a man an outlaw an’ keep him one till somebody shoots him down. I’m sore, Brown, because I know that one of these days I’m going to get it myself!”
The justice saw that the man was in deadly earnest. He saw the hand resting on the table tighten its grip upon the gun.
“I didn’t know all these things,” he said hastily. “I had to judge by what I heard––and read. Why didn’t you make all this known to the Arizona authorities?”
Rathburn laughed harshly. “Because I’d be framed clear across the board,” he said jeeringly. “It’s the law! It’s as much of a crime to rob a thieving gambler or a snake of a whisky runner or peddler as it is to rob a home! I’ve had to rob to live! An’ all the while there’s been the makings of one of the hardest-lookin’ bad men that this Southwest country ever saw in me. And, now that I think of it, why the devil I’ve held off I don’t know!”
Brown was moved by the sincerity of the man. He saw in Rathburn’s eyes that he was speaking the gospel truth. He saw something else in those eyes––the yearning of a homeless, friendless man, stamped with the stigma of outlawry, rebelling against the forces which were against him, relentlessly hunting him down.
“You say you came here to start over?” he asked curiously. “How do I know you won’t walk right out of this office and turn a trick right here in this very town?”
“You don’t know it, that’s the devil of it!” exclaimed Rathburn. “An’ there’s no use in my telling you I won’t, for you wouldn’t take my word for it. You’ve got me pegged for a gun-fightin’ bandit of first water an’ clear crystal, an’ I won’t30try to wise you up because it wouldn’t do any good. Now that you know I’m in this country, you’ll blame the first wrong thing that happens on to me. I’ve got no business here talking to you. I’m wasting my breath. You’ll have to find out from somebody besides me that I was telling you the truth, an’ I reckon that coincidence ain’t in the pictures. Where’s your handcuffs?”
The justice stared at him, startled.
“Where’s your handcuffs?” insisted Rathburn angrily.
“In the drawer of my desk out in front,” replied Brown.
“Go an’ get ’em an’ bring ’em here,” Rathburn commanded. “I’ll keep my drop on you under cover.”
Brown rose and went to his desk in the front room while Rathburn watched him in the doorway with his gun held under his coat.
When the justice returned to the inside room Rathburn moved a chair close against one of the bedposts. He compelled Brown to sit in the chair, put his hands around between the supports in the back, and about the bedpost. He handcuffed him in that position.
Drawing a bandanna handkerchief from a pocket he swiftly gagged the justice. Then he rummaged about the room until he found a piece of rope tied about a pack in the bottom of the wardrobe. With this he secured Brown’s ankles to the front legs of the chair.
“There!” he said, standing back to view his handiwork. “You’re pretty well trussed up. I ain’t trusting you any more than you’d trust me, an’ I don’t figure on you raising any hue an’ cry before I can get along on my way.”
The eyes of the justice were rolling as he struggled in vain to speak.
31
“Never mind,” said Rathburn. “I reckon I know what you want to say. Under the circumstances, the same being so much on my side, you’d say you believed me an’ all that. But I took a chance in coming here to tell you what I did an’ I never aim to take more’n one chance in a day. So long.”
32CHAPTER IV“I KNEW HE LIED!”
Rathburn extinguished the light in the lamp, walked swiftly to the front door, and outside. Closing the door softly he turned back up the street. He sauntered along slowly, debating his next move. Evidently the town was the last for many miles in the mountainous country east and north. Westward he would come upon many towns as the country became more and more densely populated toward the coast. Northwestward he would be able to keep within the arm of the mountains and still be in touch with civilization. But he would have to make some changes in his attire and fix that brand on his horse.
Instinctively his course brought him to the big resort he had noticed upon his arrival. The entrance doors had been closed against the chill of the night, but he could see the interior of the place through one of the windows despite the coating of dust upon the glass.
As he peered within he stiffened to alert attention and a light oath escaped him. Walking swiftly from a rear door was a tall man, the lower part of his face concealed by a black handkerchief. He held a gun in each hand and was covering the score or more patrons of the place who had risen from the tables, or stepped back from the bar, with their hands held high above their heads.
“Keep ’em there an’ you’ll be all right,” the masked man was saying in a loud voice which carried to Rathburn through cracks in the window33glass. “Line up down there, now––you hear me? Line up!”
The patrons lined up, keeping their faces toward the bandit.
“If anybody gets to acting uneasylike it’ll be the signal for me to start shootin’––understand?” came the holdup’s menacing voice as he moved around behind the bar.
“Open both cash drawers,” he ordered the servitor in the white apron. He covered the bartender with one gun while he kept the other pointed in the direction of the men standing in line.
Obeying instructions, the bartender took the bills from the cash drawers and laid them before the bandit on the bar. He then made several piles of silver near the bills, walking to and from the drawers of the big cash register. Continuing to do as he was told, he stuffed the bank notes and silver into the masked man’s pockets, one gun’s muzzle against his breast, the other holding the men in line at bay.
Rathburn heard footsteps on the walk close to him. He whirled and saw two men about to enter the resort. “I wouldn’t go in there,” he said sharply in a low voice.
“Eh––what’s that?”
The two men paused, looking at him questioningly.
“I wouldn’t go in there,” Rathburn repeated. “Come here an’ take a look.”
One of the men stepped to his side and peered curiously through the window.
“Bill!” he whispered excitedly. “Look here. It’s a holdup!”
The other man looked over his shoulder. He swore softly.
“I’ll bet it’s The Coyote!” said the first man in an awed voice.
34
“Probably is,” said Rathburn sneeringly. “They say he was heading this way.”
“Good place to stay out of––if it’shim,” declared the second man.
Rathburn suddenly pulled back his left sleeve. “See that?” he said, pointing to his left forearm.
The two men stared at the bared forearm in the yellow light which shone through the dust-stained window. They saw a scar about three inches below the elbow.
“Looks like a bullet made that,” one of the men observed.
“You’re right,” said Rathburn, letting down his shirt sleeve. “A bullet from The Coyote’s gun left that mark.”
The men looked at him wonderingly and respectfully.
“You boys live here?” asked Rathburn.
“Sure,” was the reply. “We work in the Pine Knot Hotel an’ stables. You from the hills?”
“Yep,” answered Rathburn. “Cow-puncher an’ horseshoer an’ one thing an’ another. What’s he doing now?” He again turned his attention to the scene within the resort, as did the two men with him.
The bandit was backing away from the bar toward the rear of the room, still keeping his guns thrust out before him, menacing the men who stood with uplifted hands.
“You can tell your funny judge that I called!” he sang out as he reached the rear door. “An’ now, gents,” he continued in an excited voice, “it won’t go well with the man that tries to get out this back way too soon.”
As he ceased speaking his guns roared. The two large hanging lamps, suspended from the ceiling in the center, went out to the accompaniment of35shattered glass crashing on the floor. The three smaller lamps above the back bar next were cut to splinters by bullets and the place was in total darkness.
Then there was silence, save for the sound of a horse’s hoofs coming from somewhere behind the building.
Rathburn drew back from the window as a match flared within and his two companions moved toward the front door. He stole around the corner of the building and started on a run for the rear. He stopped when he heard a horse galloping toward the east end of the street behind the buildings which lined that side. He hurried behind two buildings which did not extend as far as the resort and hastened up the street. He did not once look back.
Behind him he heard shouts and men running in the street. He increased his pace until he was running swiftly for the trees where he had left his horse. From above he caught the dying echoes of hoofs flying on the trail up the foothills by which he had come early that night.
The cries down the street increased, a gun barked, and bullets whined over his head.
“The locoed fools!” he panted. “Didn’t they hear that fellow ride away?”
But the shooting evidently was of a promiscuous nature, for he heard more shots around by the rear of the place where the robbery had been committed. No more bullets were fired in his direction as he darted into the black shadows of the trees.
He quickly untied his horse, mounted, rode in the shelter of the timber to the east trail, and began the ascent, urging his horse to its fastest walking gait up the hard trail. The fleeing bandit’s sounds of retreat no longer came to his ears, but he kept on, scanning the open stretches of trail above in36the starlight, a disparaging smile playing upon his lips.
Back in the little town excitement was at a high pitch. Extra lamps had been lighted in the resort where a big crowd had gathered. Several men ran to the office of Judson Brown, justice of the peace, while others went in search of the constable.
When Brown failed to answer the summons at his door, some one discovered it was not locked, and the little group of men trooped in to find the justice gagged and handcuffed to his bed. They lighted the lamp and removed the gag. Then acting upon his instructions they took a bunch of keys from his pocket and unlocked the handcuffs.
He stood, boiling with rage, while they alternately hurled questions at him and told him of the holdup.
He ignored their questions as to how he came to be bound and gagged and demanded more details of the robbery.
“We took him to be The Coyote,” said the spokesman of the group. He had been one of the men the bandit had lined up. “He was tall, an’ blue or gray eyes, an’–––”
“A puncher from up north picked him out through the window,” spoke up one of the men who had encountered Rathburn outside the resort. “He’d been shot in the forearm by him once––showed us the scar. The robber was The Coyote, all right.”
“Certainly it was him!” roared Brown. “He came in here, tied me up after pulling a gun on me, an’ threatening to kill me, practically, so he wouldn’t have any trouble pulling his trick. Tried to steer me off by saying he didn’t come here to make any trouble. I knew he lied!”
The constable came in as the justice was finishing his irate speech.
“I’m going to lead this chase myself!” cried37Brown. “I want The Coyote, and I’m going to get him. I raise that reward to a thousand on the spot, and I know the sheriff will back me up. Get out every man in town that can stick on a horse, and we’ll catch him if we have to comb the hills and desert country till doomsday!”
Already horsemen were gathering in the street outside. Feeling was high, for Dry Lake prided itself on its record of freedom from the molestation of outlaws. The rough element, too, was strong for a man hunt, or anything, for that matter, promising excitement.
A quarter of an hour later Brown, who was accepted as the leader when emergencies involving the law arose, distributed his forces. He sent two posses of twenty men each north and northwest. A third posse of a dozen men started southward. Towns to the west were notified by telephone as was the sheriff’s office. The sheriff said he would be on his way to Dry Lake in an hour. He was amazed that The Coyote should be in his territory. He, too, wanted the outlaw, and he praised Brown for his reward offer.
Judson Brown himself led the posse of thirty men which took the east trail up the foothills. It was an hour past midnight. The moon had risen and was flooding the tumbled landscape with its cold, white light. From different vantage points on ridges high above, two men looked grimly down and saw the moving shadows of the man hunters as they took the trail.
38CHAPTER VA CAPTURE
Three hours after the posses scattered on their search for The Coyote, spurred by thoughts of the reward of a thousand dollars offered by San Jacinto county, and Judson Brown’s declaration that the reward would be increased by the thousands more which Arizona had laid upon the fugitive’s head, Rathburn smiled at the rosy dawn in supreme satisfaction.
He had not lost his man’s trail during the early morning hours. Time and again he had outwitted the man ahead when the latter had waited to scan the back trail for signs of pursuit; more than once he had gained ground when screened by timber growth close to the trail; every stretch of dust-filled trail had been taken advantage of, while the soft going underfoot had deadened the sound of his horse’s flying hoofs.
The bandit had traveled fast and he had kept steadily to the eastward. This last was what caused Rathburn to smile with satisfaction. The man for whose crime Rathburn was suspected was heading straight for Rathburn’s own stamping ground––the far-distant desert range, which he knew from the low horizon in the south to the white-capped peaks in the north. To catch up with him would be but a matter of a few hours, Rathburn reflected contentedly.
Nor had the posse gained upon the two men ahead. Brown’s men, perhaps, did not have as excellent specimens of horseflesh as Rathburn and his quarry39rode. Nor did they possess the trail knowledge, the tricks which Rathburn knew, and which the latter, more or less to his surprise, found that the man ahead knew. Whatever it was that caused that curling, sneering smile of contempt to play upon Rathburn’s lips at intervals, it was not scorn of the riding ability of the man he was pursuing.
Moreover, both men ahead were saving their horses’ strength against a probable spurt by the posse at daylight. It would not be a hard matter to follow their trail by the bright light of broad day. So far as he could determine, Rathburn did not believe the man ahead knew he was followed by a solitary rider who was between him and the hounds of the law.
Under the circumstances, the bandit would expect to be pursued by a number, Rathburn reasoned. He was ordering his pursuit on this theory, and he did not intend to take any more time than was absolutely necessary in catching up with the man ahead.
Rathburn’s horse had not been hard ridden the day preceding, nor for several days before that. He had journeyed westward by easy stages, taking his time, favoring his mount in anticipation of some unforeseen emergency which might require hard riding. And he well knew the extraordinary powers of speed and endurance which the animal possessed.
He frowned as he thought of the brand. He had not been under the impression that the iron his horse wore was generally known to the authorities. He would have to hole-up somewhere in the hills before long and attend to that brand. As it was, it was a dead give-away as to his identity. He could thank Brown for this bit of information, anyway.
With the dawn, Rathburn found it easier to keep on his man’s trail without being seen himself. He gained considerable until he estimated that he was not40more than a mile and a half, or two miles at most, behind.
The sun was up when he reached the crest of the high ridge where was the tall pine and the sign which he had first seen the afternoon before.
He hesitated, debating whether to let the printed notice remain with his penciled inscription about the Arizona reward on it, or to tear it down. Then he saw the man he was pursuing below on the trail. He moved swiftly out of sight down the eastern side of the ridge. But when he came to the next vantage point he discovered that his man had apparently seen him; for he was riding at a mad gallop on the trail which wound eastward along the edge of the hills.
“Now’s as good a time as any, hoss!” he cried to his mount as he drove in his spurs and dashed in swift pursuit.
Down the winding trail plunged horse and rider. The dun slipped and slid on the hard surface of the steep declivities and finally emerged upon the more open path which the man ahead was following.
Rathburn no longer made any attempt at concealment. He was after the man ahead, and, somewhere behind, a posse was in mad pursuit. If he were captured before he could overtake the bandit who was responsible for the robbery, the latter would very likely escape––was certain to make his get-away, in fact.
Rathburn called upon his horse by voice and spur for all the speed there was in him. He could see the fugitive ahead urging his horse to its utmost. The race was on in earnest. Thus they came to a long stretch of open, level trail. Here Rathburn’s horse began slowly to gain.
The man ahead turned in his saddle, and Rathburn saw the glint of sunlight on dull metal. He brought out his own gun. But the other did not fire. He41kept on, half-turned in the saddle, watching his pursuer keenly. Rathburn continued to gain upon him.
They now were less than half a mile apart, and the fugitive suddenly turned his horse due north, straight toward the hills, and sent a volley of shots whistling in his pursuer’s direction.
Rathburn held his fire. The bullets flew wide of their mark, and he could see his man reloading as he rode. Rathburn now cut across, racing for the point where he thought the other would reach the hills. His horse rose to the emergency with a tremendous burst of speed. He was close enough now to shoot with a reasonable certainty of scoring a hit on his flying target. But he had no desire to kill, and he could not be certain, at that distance, of merely wounding his quarry. He also recoiled from the thought that he might accidently hit the other’s splendid horse.
Just ahead a thin line of straggling pines ranged down the gradual slope from the first low ridge of the hills for which they were heading. Rathburn swung north and gained the shelter of this screen just as the other rider again began firing. The trees now were between them, and each was an equal distance from the gentle slope of the ridge.
Rathburn called upon his horse for a last, heartbreaking burst of speed and the dun made good. At the beginning of the slope to the ridge, Rathburn veered sharply to the right and burst through the trees a scant rod or two from his man. His gun was leveled straight at the other, who had been caught momentarily off his guard.
“Drop it!” shouted Rathburn, racing toward him.
The man’s right hand fell to his side while he checked his horse with his left. Rathburn rode in close to him and they came to a halt. Rathburn’s lips were curled in a smile of contempt. The other stared42at him, white-faced, his eyes wide and inquiring. The fingers of his right hand relaxed, and the gun fell to the ground. Rathburn swung low in the saddle and scooped it up, thrusting it into a pocket of his coat.
“Now beat it up over that ridge ahead,” Rathburn ordered. “And be quick about it. That posse may be close behind us.”
The other’s eyes lit up with surprise. “You––you’re not an officer?” he stammered.
“Shut up, you fool!” cried Rathburn. “You want to stay here an’ talk when there’s a score or two of men after us? I’m worse than an officer. Slope for that ridge now. Hurry!”
The man put the steel to his horse, and they dashed up the slope, crossed the ridge, and found themselves in a thick growth of timber which covered a large area.
“Pick your way into the middle of that patch of timber,” snapped out Rathburn. “An’ don’t forget I’ll be right close behind you. Get going––don’t gape!”
The captive’s face flushed at the other’s manner and the indubitable note of contempt in his voice. But he obeyed the instructions and pushed into the timber.
When they had proceeded some distance Rathburn called a halt. “Ever been in this country before?” he demanded with a sneer.
“Yes.” The other was more composed now. He studied his captor curiously and seemed more at ease. Evidently he was heartened by the fact that Rathburn had said he was not an officer and he believed him.
“I suppose you’re after what I’m carrying on me,” he said with a touch of bitterness. “I guess I’d have43had as much chance as I’ve got now if I’d started shootin’ even after you got the drop on me!”
Rathburn laughed harshly. “You never had a chance from the start, if you only knew it,” he jeered. “Why, you upstart, you’re not entitled to any chance!”
The other man’s face darkened in swift anger. “Brave talk,” he said sneeringly. “You’ve got me where you want me, so you can say anything.”
“I’ve got a pile to say,” replied Rathburn shortly. “But this isn’t the time or place to say it. We want to be good an’ away out of that posse’s path––an’ quick.”
“You might as well take what you’re after an’ then each of us can look out for himself,” was the hot retort.
Rathburn looked at the man quizzically. “You’ve got more spunk than I thought,” he mused.
He stared at the other man closely. The bandit could not have been more than twenty-five or twenty-six. He was tall, well-built, blond. His hair and eyes were about the color of Rathburn’s. But Rathburn particularly noted the man’s face, and whatever it was he saw there caused him to shrug and frown deeply.
“What’s your name?” he demanded coldly.
“Percy,” sneeringly replied the other.
“That’s good enough for me,” said Rathburn cheerfully. “All I need is a name to call you by. Now, Percy, if you’re acquainted with this country in here an’ can steer the way to where the posse’ll be liable to overlook us you better be leading on. I see you’ve ditched your other gun somewhere––you had two.”
“So you want me to take you where you’ll be safe so you can rob me, maybe shoot me down, an’ then make your get-away,” the other accused.
44
Rathburn looked him straight in the eyes. “If you think I’m the kind of a man who’d shoot another down in cold blood when he was helpless you don’t know much about human beings,” he said slowly. “I have no intention of murdering you or harming you a-tall, if you’re halfway careful. If you feel that it’s against your principles to lead this expedition to temporary safety, we can turn back toward Dry Lake. We’re going to do one thing or the other within one minute!”
“Oh, come on,” muttered the captive. He led the way through the timber to its western edge, then turned north in the shelter of the trees traversing a long, high, rocky ridge.
“Our horses won’t leave any tracks here,” he called back. “Or maybe you don’t care whether we leave any tracks or not,” he added sarcastically.
Rathburn spurred his horse alongside of him. “It doesn’t make a bit of difference to me,” he said. “You’re the one that’s got to be scared of that posse, Percy, not me. If it wasn’t for one thing I’d take you right down there to meet ’em!”
The other looked at him both in anger and perplexity. “Suppose you’d object to tellin’ what that one thing is,” he said savagely.
“Well, it may be that I feel sorry for you,” said Rathburn as if to himself. “An’ it may be that I want credit for bringing you in without the help of any posse an’ without them knowing it!”
45CHAPTER VITHE REAL LOW-DOWN
They rode on in silence. When they reached the north end of the ridge the man in the lead turned west on a slope studded with large boulders and rock outcroppings. There was considerable shale here, too, and they had to proceed cautiously in spots, both for fear of sliding down the shale and to prevent making much noise.
“If they follow us up here, we can hear ’em before they get to us,” said the man who called himself Percy, with a shrug and a frowning look at his companion.
Rathburn did not reply.
They continued across the slope and descended into a large bowl or pocket, guarded by huge boulders and scattering trees on the slope above.
“Guess it’s safe to rest our horses here,” said Percy. “We can hear ’em coming either way; but I don’t think they’ll get up here.”
However, neither he nor Rathburn knew how many men Brown had at his command, nor did they know that the sheriff of the county, with two deputies, had raced to Dry Lake by automobile, procured horses, and hastened to join Brown on the east trail, which seemed the most likely route of escape for the outlaw.
There was a spring in the pocket surrounded by a small meadow of good grass. The pair watered their horses, loosened their saddle-cinches, and permitted the animals to graze with reins dangling.
Rathburn took his slicker pack from the rear of his saddle and spread it open on the ground.
46
“Reckon it’s safe to build a small fire here?” he asked cheerfully. “I’m powerful hungry, an’ I’ve got some emergency provisions––being trail-broke.”
Percy, too, was hungry, as his eager look toward the pack testified.
“I’ll climb up to the top on the lower side an’ keep an eye out while you fix some grub,” he volunteered. “You needn’t be scared of me jumping over the other side. There’s a drop of about five hundred feet over there.”
“Go ahead and jump if you want,” said Rathburn. “Me––I’d rather live. That’s why I want to eat.”
While the other climbed to his lookout position Rathburn made a fire. Then he took a small frying pan and coffeepot, minus its handle, from the pack, removed the packages stuffed in them, and soon was making coffee, frying bacon, and warming up beans. This, with some hard biscuits and some sirup out of a bottle, constituted their meal, which Rathburn soon had ready.
Again he looked closely at Percy’s face as the latter scrambled down from his perch to appease his hunger.
Suddenly he burst out laughing; but it was a belittling laugh, half sneering, which brought the blood to the face of the captive while Rathburn watched him closely.
“If I had to-day’s actions to do over again you mightn’t be so tickled,” said the man viciously.
“I’m laughing to think how lucky you are for a rank beginner an’ botcher!” said Rathburn as they began to eat. “You must have took a course in outlawing from some correspondence school,” he continued.
“Maybe you could have done better,” hinted the other.
“Quite likely I could,” admitted Rathburn. “In47the first place I’d have shut that back door after I came in so nobody could pot shot me from behind. Yes, I reckon I’d have done that.”
Percy glared at him thoughtfully.
“Then I wouldn’t have let myself get in line with the front and side windows,” Rathburn taunted. “Lots of men are shot through windows. Ever hear of such a thing?”
His listener didn’t answer.
“An’ now that I think of it,” Rathburn droned on, “I’d have lined those men up against the wall with their faces turned away from me. That puts ’em at more of a disadvantage, an’ they can’t see what’s going on.”
Percy now was regarding him keenly.
“Let’s see,” said Rathburn, with tantalizing slowness. “Oh, yes, Percy. I wouldn’t have taken anything from the cash drawers but the bills. I don’t like to take the time to monkey around with a lot of silver; besides, it sort of weights one down.”
He paused long enough to let that sink in, then continued: “The thing I’d have paid most of my attention to––excepting for keeping a watchful eye on the men against the wall an’ the windows an’ doors––would have been the safe. The big money’s usually in the safe, an’ the bartender can be induced to open the safe just as easy as he can be persuaded into opening the cash drawers. An’ say, Percy, I’d never let a bartender get as close to me as you let that fellow get to you. He might start something, then you’d have to begin shootin’ an’ that would alarm the town an’ ball up the program.”
“You talk like you’d had considerable experience,” observed Percy warily.
“Maybe so. Maybe I have. But if I have, I can say I’ve never pulled anything quite so raw as the way you pulled that stunt last night down in Dry48Lake, Percy. That is the real low-down on that. You just naturally laid yourself open to attack from all quarters.”
His captive looked at him both respectfully and sheepishly.
“An’ there’s only one reason why you got away with it,” said Rathburn, his eyes narrowing.
“Because I was lucky like you say, I suppose,” sneeringly answered Percy.
“No!” thundered Rathburn. “You got away with it because they thought you were The Coyote!”
The captive started; stared at Rathburn with widened eyes.
“That’s why you got away with it,” continued Rathburn in a hard voice. “An’ you thought you’d cinch it when you told ’em before you went out that they could tell their funny judge you called!”
Rathburn’s eyes blazed with angry contempt. “Trading on somebody else’s name,” he mocked. “Trying to make out you was the goods, an’ I believe they thought you was The Coyote, at that. Man, I saw the whole dirty business.”
Percy’s face went white. However, his emotion was more anger than fear, and he was prey to an overpowering curiosity.
“How do you know Iain’tThe Coyote?” he asked shrewdly.
Rathburn stared at him––stunned. Then he leaped to his feet and his gun flashed into his hand in a movement too swift for the eye to follow.
“Go over there and look at the brand on my horse,” he commanded. “Remember how that printed bill read that put it in your fool head to try an’ masquerade as The Coyote, an’ then read the brand on that horse!”
The captive rose and without a look back walked to where Rathburn’s horse was cropping the grass.49The left side of the animal was toward him and for a few moments he stood looking with bulging eyes at the CC2 on the shoulder. Then he turned slowly.
Rathburn’s gaze burned into his, but a cool, deliberate light had come into his eyes.
“So you’re The Coyote!” Percy said quietly. “I should have recognized you.”
“Yes, I’m called The Coyote,” said Rathburn, walking slowly toward him. “I’m the man they think robbed that joint down in Dry Lake last night. I’m the man they’re looking for. I’m the man they want to make pay for your bungling work. That’s the way it’s gone for three years, Percy. I’ve been blamed for job after job that I didn’t even know was pulled off till I heard they were looking for me on account of it. But this is one job they’ll not be able to lay at my door; for I’ve got the man who’s responsible an’ I’ve got him red-handed!”
“What’re you going to do about it?” asked the other coolly.
Again Rathburn’s eyes blazed with rage. “Do? Why, I’m just naturally going to take you in all by my lonesome an’ turn you over to the sheriff with my compliments.”
Rathburn cooled down as he said this, drew tobacco and papers from his shirt pocket, and proceeded to build a cigarette. He looked at his man queerly.
“Now I reckon you know why I ain’t got any idea of taking that money off you,” he said.
“They might not believe you,” returned the other.
“I know what you mean. You mean they might think I was putting up a job on ’em an’ trying to shift the blame on somebody else. It can’t be done, Percy. Listen to this: I was looking through the front window of that place last night when you held it up. Two men that work in the hotel down50there came along an’ looked in alongside of me after I warned ’em not to go in. I showed ’em this scar on my arm.” He rolled back his left sleeve disclosing a scar on the forearm about three inches below the elbow.
“I told ’em that scar was made by a bullet from The Coyote’s gun,” Rathburn went on, pulling down his sleeve and drawing his right hand back to the gun he had replaced in its holster. “That scarwasmade by The Coyote’s gun. I shot myself in the arm by accident some few years ago. Now, here’s the point: Those men will remember me an’ remember that scar. The descriptions the sheriff of that county must have in his office will tell all about that scar. It won’t be hard to identify me by it an’ by the two men that stood out there by the window with me. So they’ll know I didn’t pull the robbery!”
The other man shifted uneasily on his feet.
“An’ that ain’t all, Percy,” Rathburn continued. “Somebody saw me running up the street afterward because they took a couple of shots at me for luck. That’ll dovetail with my story. I’ve never been known to use two guns. An’ if they want any more proof all they’ll have to do will be to stand you up in front of the men you had in line, dressed as you are with that black handkerchief over your face. That’ll settle it. I reckon the sheriff will believe me an’ give me a chance when he hears the facts, or I may not wait for a talk with him.”
“I take it you’ve got me right,” said the captive, compressing his lips. “But if you’re really The Coyote I’ve heard so much about, you’ll give me my gun an’ give me a chance to run for it!”
Rathburn’s laugh jarred on his ears. “Give you51a chance an’ take a chance myself on going to the gallows?”
“The gallows!” exclaimed the other. “Oh––I see. But didn’t you say you thought the sheriff would give you a chance if he met you an’ heard your story? At that you don’t have to stay around an’ get taken back to Arizona now.”
“They hang men in this State,” Rathburn interrupted.
“But––there wasn’t–––” The other man faltered, staring.
“One of those shots you fired at the lamp went wild, or glanced off something, an’–––” Rathburn lifted his brows significantly.
“Killed somebody!” cried the other.
He staggered back just as a rattle of falling stones signified that horsemen were in the shale on the slope to eastward.
52CHAPTER VIIWHERE TO HIDE
For the space of several seconds Rathburn and his captive looked into each other’s eyes. Rathburn’s gaze was keen, alert, fired by the quick thinking he was doing. Stark terror showed in the other’s look which gradually changed to one of haunting fear and indecision. Then his eyes became clear and he returned Rathburn’s glance, cool and questioning.
“Get your horse,” ordered Rathburn, running to his own mount.
In a twinkling he had tightened his cinch, caught up the reins, and vaulted into the saddle. His captive was at his side shortly afterward.
“You’re still in the lead,” Rathburn snapped out; “unless you want to wait for ’em.”
The other whirled his horse, sent him flying for the western end of the pocket, with Rathburn close behind. They went up a steep, rocky trail, screened by boulders. When they reached the top of the west rim they looked back and saw four horsemen on the shale slope leading to the pocket. Brown evidently had split up his posse and was literally combing the hills for his quarry.
“They’ll know they’re on the right trail when they see the remains of our dinner an’ my pack down there,” remarked Rathburn dryly.
“But they haven’t seen us yet,” said Percy breathlessly. “If we can make Sunrise Cañon Trail we can lose ’em in the mountains––that is ifyouwant to lose ’em.”
53
“Where’s the trail?” asked Rathburn.
“’Bout five miles west. It’s the only trail goin’ up into the big mountains between here an’ the other side of the Dry Lake range, an’ it’s a tough one.”
Rathburn quickly sized up the country ahead. He saw low and high ridges with towering mountains to the right, or north, of them. There were scattering pines on the slopes and patches of timber in the wide ravines, many of which were veritable valleys.
“We’ll run for it while they’re getting in an’ out of that hole,” he suddenly decided with a click of his teeth. “Their horses are in no better shape than ours. Slope along.”
The other had dug in his spurs even before he got the order. They rode swiftly down the steep trail from the rim of the pocket and fled across an open space and up the slope of the first ridge.
Rathburn looked back as they crossed it, but could see no sign of their pursuers. His face still was troubled; his gaze kept boring into the back of the man on the horse ahead of him. At times he muttered to himself.
They galloped up the hard bed of a dry arroyo and swung westward across another rock-bound ridge, picking their way carefully among the boulders. Rathburn’s face became more and more strained as he noted that the leader evidently knew the country they were in like a book. Rathburn, with the experience born of years spent in the open places, was able to keep his bearings.
They had followed a course for some miles north of the main trail leading east, the trail by which he had first come into the locality. Then they had doubled back westward, some miles above that trail, of course, and now were heading almost due54north again, in the direction of the mountains which did not appear to be far away. He surmised that they were nearly directly north of the ranch where he had had the meal with the girl and boy.
At the top of the next ridge his guide pointed above them.
“See that crack in the mountain?” he said.
Rathburn nodded as he made out what appeared to be a gash in the steep side of a mountain north of them.
“That’s Sunrise Cañon,” said the other quietly. “There’s a trail up that cañon into the heart of the mountains where they couldn’t catch us––or you, if you want to go alone––in a hundred years!”
He stared steadily at Rathburn.
“Mosey along, then,” said Rathburn. “Let’s get somewheres before our horses drop.”
They kept along the ridge until it was cut by a cañon. Here they descended and entered another long, narrow ravine which they negotiated at a gallop. At its upper end they again climbed a steep slope. Their horses were showing the strain of the hours of hard riding. Rathburn realized that they could go but a limited distance. But the members of the posse most assuredly must be in the same fix so far as their mounts were concerned.
He decided that if they could get into the cañon unseen they would be able to rest their horses and remain secure for the night. Next morning they could continue on up into the hills, or slip back by a roundabout way to Dry Lake.
His lips froze into a thin white line. He did not look at the man with him as they paused for a few moments under the trees which covered the top of the ridge and gazed at a long, gently sloping stretch of nearly open country. It was covered with clumps of trees at intervals, that reached to55the dark, narrow opening in the mountains, marking the entrance to Sunrise Cañon and the trail to the fastnesses of the higher hills.
“You can swing off here to the left an’ down a wide valley to where there’s a cut-off into Dry Lake,” he heard his captive suggesting. “I don’t see any sense in all this hard ridin’ an’ hidin’ if you’re goin’ to turn me in.”
“We’ll go on,” growlingly replied Rathburn.
They descended the ridge and entered the long, sloping valley, so wide that it virtually was a plain. They made good headway, although they favored their horses. They took advantage of the shelter provided by the occasional clumps of pines. The afternoon was drawing to a close with the sun dipping sharply toward the western hills when they came in sight of the entrance to the cañon. But with the first glimpse they checked their horses and turned into the shelter of some trees near by.
“Beat us to it!” exclaimed Percy.
“Four of ’em,” said Rathburn, frowning. “Brown ain’t taking any chances. He’s a better man than I figured him out. An’ there’s more of ’em!”
He pointed westward where two riders were barely discernible on the crest of a ridge. They disappeared almost immediately in the timber below.
“We’ll turn back,” Rathburn decided. “We’ll ride with the trees between us an’ the men up at the cañon, an’ keep an eye out for the pair to the west. You might watch that side, an’ I’ll look out for the east an’ south. C’mon, let’s drift.”
The face of the man who called himself Percy was white and strained as they urged their tired mounts southward. They skirted the western end of the ridge by which they had gained the wide valley and continued on, carefully scanning the landscape in all directions for indications of pursuit. It was56plain to them that they had been seen to leave the east trail early that morning. Brown and his men undoubtedly knew they had headed north, and the justice had immediately dispatched men to guard the entrance to the cañon trail into the mountains. Then they had begun a systematic search of the locality.
This deduction was strengthened when Rathburn suddenly pointed toward the east. More riders were to be seen on the slope of the valley’s side in that direction. Even as they looked, these riders, too, disappeared from view as they dropped down behind a rise of ground.
The sun was going down fast. Already the red banners of the sunset were flaunted in the high western skies. The twilight would be upon them apace––the long-lasting, purple-veiled twilight of the altitudes. Then the night would close down with its canopy of stars.
Rathburn looked speculatively at his companion. “We’ll make a break for that clump of trees about a quarter of a mile ahead with all our horses have got left,” he said, driving in his spurs.
In a last mad dash which taxed every iota of strength and endurance left in their beasts they gained the shelter of the little patch of timber.
“Here we’ll wait,” said Rathburn coolly as he dismounted.
“What?” cried the other, staring at him incredulously. “We ain’t quite surrounded yet. We haven’t seen anybody in the south. That way may be open an’ it’s liable to be closed while we’re stayin’ here.”
“Get off your horse and unsaddle him,” commanded Rathburn sternly. “The best place to hide from a posse is in the middle of it!”