57CHAPTER VIIITWO QUEER MOVES
The captive complied with the order, looking at Rathburn in a peculiar way––half disgusted, half contemptuous. Indeed, he turned his back on the other, leaned against the slender trunk of a pine, and stared steadily into the south. He appeared much worried.
The horses welcomed the chance to rest.
Rathburn walked slowly back and forth the width of the patch of timber, vigilantly keeping watch. He paid no attention whatsoever to the man leaning against the tree. For all the interest he displayed he might have completely forgotten his very existence. In time this got on the other’s nerves.
“I believe you lied when you said there was a man killed down there last night,” he said coolly.
“I didn’t say anybody was killed,” Rathburn returned without looking in his direction. “You assumed that part of it.”
“Then you wanted me to think so,” said the other in a loud voice. “You was tryin’ to throw a scare into me!”
Rathburn swung on his heel and stepped squarely in front of him. “I let you think that to show you whatmighthave happened,” he said. “Such things have happened to me an’ swelled the price on my head. Now, darn you, if you talk that loud again I’ll choke your wind off!”
The words came with sinister earnestness, but they seemed to rouse some dormant strain of extraordinary courage in the man to whom they were addressed.
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He suddenly leaped from the tree and struck out with all the force at his command.
But Rathburn had anticipated the attack. He knocked the other’s blow aside and drove his right straight to the jaw.
“There’s a little souvenir to show you that I mean business, Percy,” he panted.
Percy came back to the attack with eyes gleaming with malice. Again he attempted to hit Rathburn, but the latter stepped aside with lightning swiftness and drove home another blow. He followed it up with a left and right and Percy sprawled his length on the grass.
After a time he sat up, dazed. Rathburn was standing over him. But although he realized fully that he was not a match for Rathburn in physical combat, and doubtless was greatly his inferior with his gun, his spirit was undaunted.
“You better finish me, or drag me in,” he gritted; “for I’ll get you, if I can. I don’t know what your play is, but you’ve acted too queer to-day for me to believe you’re on the square one way or the other.”
“You want some more, Percy?”
“My name is Lamy,” growlingly replied the other, as he rose cautiously.
“Oh, o-h. Percy Lamy.”
“No, just Lamy. Lamy’s my name, an’ I ain’t ashamed of it. You’d find it out––sooner or later––anyway, I––expect.” He stammered during this speech as if he had just remembered something––remembered when it was too late.
Rathburn noted the frown and the confused expression in Lamy’s eyes. He turned abruptly and walked away.
A few minutes later he came back to find Lamy59sitting with his back to a tree, staring unseeing into the deepening twilight.
“Lamy,” he said harshly, “we’re going to get away from this posse––maybe. Anyway, soon’s it’s dark we’ll ride south. It’s just possible we can leave ’em up here in the hills.”
“Suppose I refuse to go?”
“Then I’ll have to truss you up an’ tie you to your horse, an’ don’t think I won’t do it!” The ring of menace in Rathburn’s voice convinced the other, but he made no comment.
When darkness had fallen they saddled their mounts and started. They rode at a jog, keeping as much as possible in the shadow of the timber. Rathburn noticed that the valley gradually widened; he showed interest in his surroundings.
Then, off to the left below them, he saw moving shadows. He called a halt at the next clump of trees. “Lamy, are there any horses running in here that you know of?” he asked.
“There probably are,” said Lamy sarcastically; “an’ they’ve probably got riders on ’em.”
“No doubt,” returned Rathburn gravely. “I just saw some shadows that looked like horses down to the left of us.”
“I expected they’d shut us off in the south,” snapped out Lamy. “You gave ’em plenty of time.”
“We just naturally had to rest our horses,” observed Rathburn. “As it is, they’re not good for far, nor for any fast riding. Besides, I’ve changed my mind some since this morning.”
“So? I suppose you’re goin’ to give me a chance?” sneeringly inquired the other.
He could see Rathburn’s eyes in the twilight, and suddenly he shifted in his saddle uneasily. For Rathburn’s gaze had narrowed; and it shot from his eyes steel blue with a flash of fire. His face60had set in cold, grim lines. The whole nature of the man seemed to undergo a change. He radiated menace, contempt, cold resentment. The corners of his mouth twisted down sharply. His voice, as he spoke now, seemed edged like a knife.
“Lamy, hand over that money!”
Lamy’s brows lifted in swift comprehension; a look of cunning came into his eyes––was followed by a gleam of hope, not unmixed with derision. He thrust his hands into his coat pockets and held out bills and silver to Rathburn who stuffed the plunder into his own pockets.
“That all of it?” demanded Rathburn sharply. He made no effort to temper the tones of his voice.
For answer Lamy dug into his trousers’ pockets, under his chaps, and produced two more rolls of bills.
“That’s the chunk,” he said with a sneering inflection in his voice. “If you want I’ll stand a frisk.”
“No, I won’t search you. I take it you’re too sensible to lie!”
“Thanks,” replied Lamy dryly. “I suppose I’m free to go now, unless you figure you’d be safer by killin’ me off.”
Anger, swift and uncontrollable, leaped into Rathburn’s eyes. Then he laughed, softly and mirthlessly. “If I’d been minded to do for you, or had any such idea in my head, I’d have given it to you long before this,” he said. “It’s lucky for you, Lamy, that I’m pretty much the breed you thought I was.”
“Don’t pose!” retorted Lamy hotly. “You intended to get that money and make me the goat if you could, from the start. If you’d had any61idea of turnin’ me over to Brown you’d have done that little thing, too, long before this.”
“Maybe so,” Rathburn mused, staring at the other thoughtfully in the dim light of the stars. “Maybe I will yet. You’re not out of this––an’ neither am I. Those shadows down to the left are getting plainer. What’s that long dark streak over there on the right?”
“Those are trees,” answered Lamy sneeringly.
“Let’s make for ’em,” ordered Rathburn. “Don’t forget you’re still under orders, Lamy. An’ don’t overlook the fact that I’m more or less in earnest about things in general,” he added significantly.
They rode at a tangent for the dark shadow of the trees. At the edge of the timber ensued another long wait, with Rathburn uncommunicative, moodily pacing restlessly back and forth. The horses had another excellent opportunity to rest and the fagged animals took advantage of it.
Once or twice Rathburn thought he glimpsed a light far down the valley, but he couldn’t be sure. Neither could he be sure he saw the moving shadows on the opposite side of the wide valley again.
The night wore into early morning and the moon added its cold radiance to the faint glow of the myriads of stars. Rathburn sensed the nearness of enemies. Several times he stopped before Lamy, who sat upon his saddle blanket with his back against a tree trunk and dozed. Rathburn had to fight off continual drowsiness.
For long hours he walked along the edge of the pines. He dared not trust himself to sleep. He dared not trust Lamy to stand guard while he obtained some rest, and he knew that when the sun came up and the day began, he would be thoroughly awake again; for more than once he had62gone two nights without sleep. Also, he assumed that the hunt would be less spirited during the night. Members of the posse would themselves be drowsy, but they could spell each other and in that way maintain their vigil and secure a few hours of rest.
Rathburn’s rage rose at frequent intervals as he thought of the predicament he was in through no fault of his own. More than once he glared malevolently at the sleeping Lamy; then the troubled look would come again to his eyes and he would resume his pacing, muttering to himself, staring into the blue veil of the night. Once he sat down and removed his right boot and sock in the darkness; shortly afterward he again began his pacing.
He felt the pangs of hunger and shook his head savagely as he thought of the scanty supply of provisions he had been compelled to leave in the mountain pocket.
His spirits revived as he thought of the horses. They would be fresh in the morning; and he intended that his horse should have a grain feed that day. Rathburn always thought of his horse first; and, although it might seem that he taxed the animal’s powers to their utmost at times, he never went beyond a certain point. He had often said he would surrender to his pursuers rather than kill his mount in evading them.
The first faint glimmer of the dawn was lighting the skies above the ridges to the eastward when he roused Lamy. He awoke with a start, stared sleepily at Rathburn, then got speedily to his feet.
“You been awake all night?” he asked curiously.
Rathburn nodded, looking at him closely. “Saddle up,” he ordered.
They rode southward at a canter in the shelter of the edge of the timber. When the eastern skies63were rosy red and fast changing to gold with the advent of the sun they saw two things; a small ranch house about a mile southeast of them, and two riders some distance north.
Rathburn reined in his mount. He looked at Lamy who met his gaze in defiance. Then Rathburn reached into his coat pocket with his right hand and drew out a gun.
“Here’s your shooting iron,” he said, as he held the weapon out to Lamy.
The other stared at him in astonishment.
“Take it!” snapped out Rathburn. “Take it, or I may change my mind!”
Lamy took the gun wonderingly, balanced it for a moment in his hand, and shoved it into his holster.
Rathburn motioned toward the south and Lamy rode along at his side. They caught another glimpse of the horsemen in the north. As they drew opposite the ranch house, on the west or front side, they saw a woman leave it and walk the short distance to the barn and enter. At that moment both Rathburn and Lamy gave vent to low exclamations. They had caught sight of riders in the south and to the east. They appeared to be surrounded by the posse.
Rathburn looked at Lamy soberly. However, it was Lamy who spoke first. “You said the best place to hide from a posse was in the middle of it,” he said scornfully. “Why not leave the horses in the timber an’ run for the house? Maybe it has a cellar.”
“I reckon that would be as good a move as any,” replied Rathburn, to the other’s surprise. “I’m game if you are.”
Lamy’s eyes flamed with excitement as he turned his mount into the trees. They came to what looked64like a bear pit or a prospect hole. It was partly filled with brush.
“We can hide our saddles in there an’ let the horses go,” Lamy suggested. “There’s a few horses runnin’ in through here, an’ they may join ’em.”
“You can do that with yours,” said Rathburn grimly. “You seem to forget that the brand on this dun is pretty well known.”
He coolly tied his horse as Lamy followed his own suggestion, hid his saddle, and turned his mount loose.
They moved back to the edge of the timber and waited until they could see no one in sight about the house or in any direction in the valley. Then they started on a run for the house.
65CHAPTER IXLEAVE IT TO ME
Rathburn had recognized the ranch long before they came close to it. It was the place where he had stopped for a meal with the girl and the freckle-faced boy two days before––the day he had gone on into Dry Lake. He saw no sign of the girl or the boy or any one else as they reached the front door and hurried inside.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Lamy look hurriedly about and step into the kitchen. He followed him.
Lamy grabbed part of a loaf of bread and some cold meat on a shelf above the kitchen table.
“There’s usually a cellar under the main room in these square houses,” he said, hurrying back into the larger room.
Rathburn stepped after him, and Lamy pulled back the rug before the table and disclosed a trapdoor. He raised the door, held out the food to Rathburn, and whispered: “You better get down there. Take this grub an’–––”
“What’s the matter? Isn’t there room for both of us?” Rathburn put the question in a voice which conveyed surprise.
“I thought it might be better if we––if we didn’t both hide in the same place,” whispered Lamy. “Then they’d only get one of us, an’ whichever it was they’d think he was the one they wanted, see?” He appeared excited.
Rathburn’s eyes narrowed. His right hand darted to his gun in a flash, and the muzzle of the weapon66was pressed into Lamy’s ribs. “Get down there!” commanded Rathburn. “Get down.”
Lamy hesitated with a wild look in his eyes. The muzzle of Rathburn’s gun pressed harder against his midriff. He dropped lightly into the cellar. Rathburn pulled the rug against the trapdoor as he followed, then let down the door, certain that the rug would fall into place.
The pair sat upon some gunny sacks in the little cellar until their eyes became accustomed to the darkness; they could dimly see each other by the faint light which came to them through some cracks in the floor above.
They heard steps at the rear of the house; then the pound of hoofs from in front. Rathburn saw Lamy staring at him fixedly with a puzzled look. He frowned at him. Rathburn still held his gun in his hand. Both had forgotten the food which Lamy had in his lap.
“Say,” whispered Lamy. “What was your idea in givin’ me back my gun?”
He moved closer to get the reply.
“Shut up!” said Rathburn, cocking an ear toward the trapdoor.
The sound of footsteps now was in the kitchen. They heard horses snorting and men dismounting at the front door. After a brief space there were light footsteps in the room above followed by the tramp of heavy boots.
“Good morning, ma’am,” came a deep voice.
“Good morning,” was the hesitating reply. Rathburn recognized the voice of the girl who had fed him.
“Ma’am, I’m Sheriff Neal of San Jacinto County,” continued the deep voice, as several feet shuffled slightly. “These men with me are members of my posse. Maybe you know Judge Brown?”
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“I––I’ve seen him,” answered the girl.
Rathburn could feel Lamy’s knees shaking against him in excitement.
“I believe we’ve met some time,” Brown put in. Rathburn thought the justice’s voice sounded tired.
“Ma’am, we’re looking for a man––or two men.” It was the sheriff speaking again. “Have you seen any one around here this morning––any stranger, or strangers, I mean?”
“Why, no,” replied the girl with a breathless catch in her voice. “I haven’t seen any one.”
“You’re sure?”
Rathburn frowned at the sheriff’s tone, although he kept his eyes on Lamy’s white face.
He smiled as he remembered that the sheriff had mentioned two men. This doubtless was the cause of Lamy’s agitation. Nor did he think Lamy had forgotten that he, Rathburn, had pointed out that he could prove he didn’t rob the place in Dry Lake.
“You’re sure?” the sheriff asked again.
“Why, yes,” replied the girl. “I am sure.”
“Maybe she can get us some breakfast,” said Brown hopefully.
“Can you feed five men, ma’am?” asked the sheriff in a softer tone.
“Just sit down, and I’ll get you some breakfast,” said the girl.
The two men in the little cellar could hear some of the men taking chairs and one or two going out to look after the horses. The girl’s light footsteps retreated into the kitchen.
Rathburn smiled mysteriously at Lamy who was shivering with a case of nerves.
“I can’t understand who that was with him––or following him,” came Brown’s voice. “Somebody68must have seen him getting away and set out on the trail while it was hot.”
“Either that or saw him beating it somewheres on the trail east of town an’ took after him on suspicion,” drawled the sheriff. “’Spect everybody around here has seen those reward notices you put out.”
“That’s so,” said Brown. “I had the right hunch when I got the tip he’d left his Arizona hangout, sheriff. I figured he’d head this way. Then he had the nerve––well, you know what happened in my office.”
The sheriff chuckled. Then he spoke angrily. “He can’t pull any of his stunts in my territory,” he said growlingly. “I’ll hunt him down if I have to put every man I’ve got on the trail an’ keep ’em there. I figure, though,” he added hopefully, “that we’ve got him cornered in or around this valley. We traced ’em here, and we got sight of ’em yesterday. We’ll have ’em before night!”
“I hope so,” said Brown grimly.
“I’ve given orders to shoot to kill and not to miss,” thundered the sheriff. “But I guess the rewards offered for him would kind of steady the aim of the man that got a crack at him.”
Rathburn’s face went white, and his eyes shot fire as he listened to the sheriff’s cruel laugh in which the others in the room above now joined.
Lamy signaled that he wished to whisper in his ear, and Rathburn bent his head, although he kept the gun handy.
“I’m not goin’ to risk shootin’ anybody if we should be found or cornered,” Lamy whispered. “I thought you ought to know–––”
“If we’re cornered you leave it to me,” Rathburn came back. “I have reasons for everything I’m doing. An’ don’t forget that I’d rather be grabbed69for this simple trick of yours in Dry Lake than for one or two jobs over in Arizona. If things go wrong keep your mouth shut––don’t talk! If you start talking any time I’ll try to kill you!”
Lamy drew back from the ferocity in Rathburn’s tone and manner. That menacing message was again in Rathburn’s eyes.
“Who’s that boy out there?” the sheriff called sharply.
“Go in and say how-do-you-do,” came the girl’s voice from the kitchen. “It’s my brother, Frankie.”
“Come here, Frankie,” said the sheriff.
The pair below heard light footsteps on the floor above.
“That’s a fine crop of freckles you’ve got,” said the sheriff.
Rathburn saw Lamy put a hand to his face and make a grimace.
“Listen, Frankie, did you see anybody around here this morning?” asked the sheriff.
“Who––who you looking for?” asked the boy.
Rathburn started; his body suddenly tensed.
“I’m looking for an outlaw they call The Coyote,” returned the sheriff. “Ever hear of him?”
“Y-e-s. Ed brought home a notice about a reward for him.”
“That’s the man we’re after. Rides a dun-colored horse; tall, light-complexioned. Seen anybody like that around here?”
“He was here day before yesterday,” said the boy truthfully. “Sis gave him something to eat, an’ he went on into town. He didn’t seem like such a bad man to me. Told me never to lie.”
“He was here? Ate here?” The sheriff’s voice was excited.
Rathburn saw Lamy’s eyes widen.
“Frankie,” the sheriff said soberly, “that Coyote70went into town an’ robbed a place. He’s a bad, dangerous man no matter how he looks or what he says. Have you seen anybody that looked like him since?”
The question was followed by a deep silence.
Rathburn alert, his eyes gleaming, heard the sheriff rise.
“Answer me, boy. I’m the sheriff of this county!”
“’Tain’t that––’tain’t that,” said the boy in a tremulous voice. “Only––I’d rather not tell, Mr. Sheriff.”
“You must answer me!” said the official sternly. “Have you seen any one around here––yesterday or this morning?”
“Ye-e-s.”
“When?” demanded the sheriff. “Don’t lie!”
“This––this morning,” stammered the boy.
“Where? Tell me about it, quick.”
“Two men ran across from the timber to the house,” replied the boy. “He––he said not to lie for him––but–––”
The sheriff stepped quickly to the kitchen door. “I thought you said no one had been around here, ma’am.”
“Why––I didn’t see any one,” came the girl’s voice.
“I saw ’em from the pasture,” the boy confessed.
“Then they’re here!” cried the sheriff. “Search the house an’ the barn!”
In the dim, narrow cellar Rathburn was holding his gun aimed at Lamy’s heart.
“You remember what I said about keepin’ your mouth shut?” he asked in a low voice, his steel-blue gaze boring into the other’s eyes.
Lamy gasped. Then he slowly nodded his head.
“That’s your bond!” said Rathburn, as tramping feet sounded overhead.
71CHAPTER XCAUGHT IN THE CELLAR
Rathburn rose and crouched under the trapdoor, gun in hand. Lamy watched him, breathless, perplexed, uncertain. They heard men running; then there were no sounds from above and a deathly stillness settled down.
Slowly and with infinite care Rathburn raised the trapdoor an inch or two and listened intently. Lamy scrambled to his knees on the pile of gunny sacks; but Rathburn swung quickly upon him. They stared at each other in the semidarkness.
“He said two,” breathed Lamy, a curious look in his eyes.
“Are you afraid?” mocked Rathburn. “It’s me they want––don’t worry. I may make a break for it, an’ if I do there’s likely to be powder burned. You can stay here an’ get out when they take after me, if I go,” said Rathburn, and the sneer in his voice caused Lamy to flush uncomfortably.
Rathburn petted the gun in his hand. “But before I make a break I want to tell you something that I should have told you before this, when I had more time–––”
He bit off his speech as there came a sudden recurrence of the sounds in the house. The trapdoor closed down.
“Where’s the cellar?” came the sheriff’s authoritative voice.
Many feet tramped upon the floor above them. Then they heard the rug stripped back. There was an exclamation from the sheriff and the sound of moving feet suddenly was stilled.
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“Is there any one in the cellar?” the sheriff called.
Silence––with Lamy pressing Rathburn’s knee with a hand, and Rathburn smiling that queer, grim smile which conveyed so much, yet nothing which was tangible.
“Get around here, you fellows,” they heard the sheriff order.
The sound of boots and spurs attested to the quickness with which his order was obeyed.
Rathburn leaned down suddenly and with lightning swiftness jerked Lamy’s gun from its holster near his side. He tossed the weapon to a corner of the dark cellar just as the sheriff’s voice was heard again.
“Coyote, if you’re down there I’m not going to take a chance fumbling with that door. If you ain’t there, then there won’t be any harm in what I’m going to do. If I don’t hear anything when I finish talking I’m going to give the signal to my men to start shooting through the floor––and I mean it. If anybody’s down there it’d be good sense to flip up that door and crawl out hands first, an’ those hands empty.”
“Sheriff, you’re bluffing!” said Rathburn loudly.
Then the sheriff spoke again in an exultant tone. “I figured it was the best hidin’ place you could find, Coyote. You’re right; I was sort of bluffing, but I might have changed my mind an’ gone on through with it. We’ve got you dead to rights, Coyote; you haven’t got a chance. There’s seven of us now an’ every man is ready to open up if you come out of there a-shooting.”
Rathburn slipped his gun back into his holster. He raised the trapdoor slowly until it tipped back on the floor leaving the opening into the cellar clear.
“Two of ’em!” he heard some one exclaim.
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He looked up to accustom his eyes to the light and saw a dozen guns covering him.
“Gentlemen, the landscape fairly bristles with artillery,” he said amiably. “Who’s the sheriff? And––there’s Jud Brown. Who let you loose, Jud?”
“I’m Sheriff Neal,” interposed that individual, a slight, dark man with a bristly mustache. “Come out of there––hands free.”
“For the time being, eh, sheriff? I expect you figure on fixing those hands so they won’t be free, eh? Well, all I’ve got to say is that I hope you won’t spend the money foolishly, sheriff.”
Rathburn leaped lightly out of the cellar.
“Keep that other man down there covered, too,” snapped out Neal. “It’s principle more than reward money that invites me, Coyote. Hand over your gun belt an’ be careful how you unbuckle it.”
“Sheriff, it would be against my code of ethics to hand over my gun. It can’t be done, sheriff; you’ll have to come and get it.”
Neal hesitated, notwithstanding the fact that he had Rathburn covered and that several other guns were covering him. Then he stepped forward, never taking his eyes from Rathburn’s, and secured the other’s weapon.
“That’s better, sheriff,” said Rathburn with a queer smile. “You can see how I have my pride an’ little superstitions. No man has ever took a gun from me but what I’ve got it back! Thanks, sheriff.”
Lamy had come out of the cellar. Several of the men seemed to recognize him, but kept their silence with dubious looks in their eyes.
“My guide, sheriff,” said Rathburn, pointing gayly at Lamy. “He was very kind. He showed me around the country––me not being very well acquainted around here. I had to take his gun away74from him an’ sort of encourage him along with my own, but he did very nicely.”
“Just what I thought, Neal,” said Brown. “This fellow took after him an’ he captured him and made him lead him. Isn’t that so?” he asked of Lamy.
“Just a minute, Jud,” Rathburn interrupted with a frown. “I can’t let the importance of this momentous occasion be transferred to a subordinate. You must ask your questions of me, as I am the central figure in this affair.”
The cry of a girl startled them. She came running from the kitchen where she had fled when the sheriff announced his intention to shoot through the floor.
“Ed!” she cried, running to Lamy and throwing her arms about him. “Oh––Ed!”
“Who is he, ma’am?” asked the sheriff. “Your husband?”
“He’s my brother––Ed Lamy.”
“I can recommend him if you need a guide who knows the country, sheriff,” said Rathburn genially. “I guess he had an idea of making trouble for me at first, but I had the drop on him an’ he soon saw reason. I had to knock him down last night when he got fresh, but he did very well. Of course I had an advantage on my side.” He nodded toward his gun which the official still held in his hand.
“Did he make you guide him?” Neal asked Lamy, noting his empty holster.
Rathburn turned so that he could look at his former captive.
Lamy nodded. “Yes,” he replied. “I didn’t know what minute I was goin’ to get shot in the back.”
Rathburn’s eyes glowed with an amused light. “I didn’t have any idea of shootin’ him, sheriff; he was too valuable as my escort on the tour. I wonder75if the lady could spare me a cup of coffee an’ a biscuit?”
He glimpsed the boy in the kitchen doorway behind the sheriff. “Hello, sonny,” he called cheerfully. “Did you catch those freckles from your brother?”
The boy gazed at him abashed. There were actually tears in the youngster’s eyes. Ed Lamy and his sister moved into the kitchen and took the boy with them. The girl had nodded to the sheriff.
“She’ll get you something to eat,” said Neal. “What have you got on you?” He stepped to Rathburn’s side.
“Ah––the frisk. I see you are a regulation officer, sheriff.” Rathburn’s tone fairly radiated politeness and good cheer. “The silver was rather heavy. It ain’t my usual style to pack much silver, sheriff. There’s more of the bills in my hip pockets. Don’t suppose there’s more’n a thousand in the whole bundle.”
The sheriff put the bills and silver on the table. He investigated all of Rathburn’s pockets, returned him his tobacco, papers, and handkerchief, but kept a box of matches. Then he felt his prisoner’s clothing to make sure that he had no weapons concealed; he also felt his boot tops.
He looked at Rathburn with a gloating expression when he had finished; there was also a glint of admiration in the gaze he directed at him.
“You size right up to the descriptions of you, Coyote,” he reflected in a pleasant voice. “Too bad you couldn’t have been in a better business. I’m glad I caught you, but I ain’t any too––too––well, I might say any too proud of it. That may be pleasant for you to hear. But I ain’t discounting your well-known ability, an’ I want to warn you76that I or any of my men will shoot you in your tracks if you start anything that looks suspiciouslike.”
Rathburn yawned. “Sheriff, your courtesy is very greatly appreciated. I only hope we will arrive in jail or somewhere soon where I can get some sleep. I’m all in.”
77CHAPTER XIFREEDOM BEHIND BARS
In the early afternoon the little cavalcade rode into Dry Lake. Rathburn was nodding in his saddle, nearly asleep.
“We’ll keep him here to-night till I can get the facts straight,” he heard Sheriff Neal say to Brown.
They dismounted at a small square stone building with bars on the windows. Then Rathburn was proudly led between a line of curious spectators into jail.
Three rooms comprised Dry Lake’s jail. The front of the building, for a depth of a third of the distance from the front to the rear, was divided into two of these rooms; one, the larger, being the main office, and the other, much smaller, being the constable’s private office. The balance of the building was one large room, divided into two old-fashioned cages with iron and steel bars. The doors to these cages were on either side of the door into the front office and there was an aisle between the cages and the wall separating them from the offices.
Rathburn was taken immediately to the cage on the left of the office door. Sheriff Neal hesitated as he stood in the cell with him, thought for a minute, then removed the handcuffs.
“That’s right fine of you, sheriff,” said Rathburn sleepily, but cheerfully, nevertheless.
“Oh, you’ll be watched well enough,” said Neal as he closed the barred door behind him and locked Rathburn in. “You’ll find somebody around if you try to tear the place down.”
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“That wasn’t just what I was getting at, sheriff,” said the prisoner with a glitter in his eyes. “I meant it was right fine of you to give me freedom behind the bars.”
Rathburn’s taunting laugh rang in the official’s ears as the latter pushed the men with him into the outer office. Rathburn listened, yawning, to the sheriff giving instructions that the prisoner be watched constantly.
He looked about the cage which was separated from the other cell by a wall of sheet iron. It contained nothing except a bench and a stool. He pushed the bench against the stone wall at the rear and reclined upon it, using his coat for a pillow. Then he turned his face toward the wall, shading his eyes from the light, which filtered through two windows high in the wall beyond the bars on the left side by tipping his hat over his face.
Immediately he fell asleep.
The news that The Coyote had been captured, spread rapidly through the town and many came to the jail hoping they might be able to see the prisoner. All of these were denied admittance, but Sheriff Neal told the few who stated that they had been among the number the bandit had lined up at the point of his guns, that they would be called to identify The Coyote on the following day. He asked each if they were sure the bandit had two guns, and the reply in each case was in the affirmative.
“That’s funny,” Neal muttered. “He only had one gun on him.”
“More’n likely the other’s on his horse with his saddle,” Brown pointed out. “I believe he left his horse somewheres an’ made that fellow Lamy take him to the house thinking he could get something79to eat there, and that they wouldn’t be so likely to be seen in the open on foot. You got to remember that man’s more or less clever.”
This explanation satisfied Neal, and in the minds of the men who had been in the resort when it was held up, there was no question as to the identity of the robber. Even if they had suspected otherwise it is doubtful if they would have acknowledged it because they considered it less of an ignominy to be held up by the notorious Coyote than by a bandit of lesser reputation.
Thus did the bonds of evidence tighten about Rathburn while he slept through the late afternoon and the twilight.
When he awoke a faint yellow light dimly illuminated his surroundings. He lay thinking for several minutes. He knew night had fallen and surmised that he had slept a full eight hours. He could tell this because he was fully awake and alert. He turned noiselessly on his bench and saw that the light came from a lamp burning near the door to the outer office.
Rathburn could hear the hum of voices, and by listening intently, ascertained that two men were talking, one of whom was the sheriff. He could not recognize the voice of the other speaker as a voice he had ever heard before, and he could not hear what they were saying.
He listened dully to the voices until he heard a horse’s hoofs in front of the jail. He turned back with his face to the wall, and his hat tipped over his eyes, as a man entered the jail office with a stamp of boots and jingle of spurs.
“Hello, constable,” he heard the sheriff say. “What luck?”
“Couldn’t find the hoss,” came a disgruntled80voice. “Looked all afternoon an’ till it got dark for him.”
“Confound it!” exclaimed Neal. “The horse must have been somewhere aroun’ close. He sure didn’t walk down the valley.”
“That’s probably right,” said the other. “I left a couple of your men out there to keep up searching when daylight comes. That feller Lamy showed us about where they left the hosses––his hoss an’ The Coyote’s––but they wasn’t there. He said there was a bunch of wild hosses in the valley an’ that they’d probably got away an’ gone with ’em. We saw the wild hosses, but we couldn’t get anywhere near ’em––couldn’t get near enough to see if any of ’em was wearin’ saddles or not. We had some chase while it lasted, I’ll recite.”
“Did Lamy say how they came to leave their horses?” asked the sheriff in an annoyed tone.
“It was The Coyote’s orders. Thought they’d be safer in the middle of the posse or something like that. Made Lamy leave the hosses an’ run for the house an’ made him get down in the cellar with him. Don’t know if he knew Lamy lived there or not, but reckon it wouldn’t have made any difference.”
The sheriff was pacing the floor of the office as his footfalls attested. “I’ve ordered that Lamy in to-morrow. I’ve a lot more questions to ask him. Well, you might as well get a few winks, constable; Brown and the rest of ’em have hit the hay. Even the prisoner is tired out, and that’s sayin’ something for as tough a bird as he is. But I wish I had his horse. I’ve got to have his horse!”
Rathburn was smiling at the wall. He heard Neal walk to the door and look in. Receding footsteps81told him that the constable was leaving. For a time there was silence in the outer office.
Rathburn sat up quietly and began easing off his right boot. The boot came slowly, very slowly, as Rathburn worked at it, careful not to make any noise. Then, just as it came free, the sheriff again strode to the door and looked in.
He saw Rathburn yawning, as the boot dropped on the floor.
Rathburn looked at the sheriff sleepily as the official strode into the aisle and peered in between the bars. He tipped the bootless foot back on its toes as he lifted his other foot and tugged at the boot.
“That you, sheriff?” he asked with another yawn. “The lights are so bad I can’t see good. Guess I’m a little groggy anyway. I was too danged tired when I went to sleep to take off my boots.”
“You’ve got another ten hours to sleep,” said Neal with a scowl. “An’ you’ll have plenty of time to get rid of your saddle soreness. You’ll ride in automobiles and trains for a while an’ keep in out of the hot sun an’ the wet.”
The sheriff laughed harshly at his own words.
Rathburn let the other boot drop. “I expect I’ll get something to eat now an’ then, too?”
“Feel hungry?” asked Neal.
“Might chaw on a biscuit before I take another nap,” yawned the prisoner.
“I’ll see if I can scare you up a bite,” said the sheriff, leaving.
Rathburn heard him say something to some one in front. Then the sheriff went out of the building. The other man came in and looked at Rathburn curiously.
He was of medium build, with white hair and a face seamed and lined and red. Rathburn instantly82recognized in his jailer a man of the desert––possibly of the border country.
“So you’re The Coyote,” said the jailer in a rather high-pitched voice.
Rathburn winked at him. “That’s what they say,” he replied.
“You size up to him, all right,” observed the man of the desert. “An’ I can tell quick enough when I get a good look at you an’ inspect your left forearm. I’ve had your descriptions in front of my eyes on paper an’ from a dozen persons that knowed you for three years!”
“You been trailing me?” asked Rathburn curiously.
“I have; an’ it ain’t no credit to this bunch here that they got you, for I was headed in this direction myself an’ arrived ’most as soon as you did.”
“You from Arizona?” asked Rathburn, grasping his right foot in his left hand.
“I’m from Arizony an’ Mexico an’ a few other places,” was the answer. “I’ve helped catch men like you before, Coyote.”
Rathburn frowned, still keeping his hand over his right foot. “I don’t like that word, Coyote,” he said softly, holding the other’s gaze between the bars. “A coyote is a cowardly breed of animal, isn’t it?”
“An’ a tricky one,” said the jailer. “I ain’t sayin’ you’re a coward; but you’re tricky, an’ that’s bad enough.”
“Maybe so,” agreed Rathburn. “Ah––here’s our friend, his nibs, the sheriff. He went out to rustle me some grub. He wants to keep me fat for hanging!”
His laugh rang through the jail, empty save for himself and the two officers. But the temporary jailer hesitated, looking at Rathburn’s eyes, before he turned to the sheriff.