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The boy laughed without relaxing a muscle.
“Did he? He’s a fule someways.”
He passed into the kitchen and took Eve’s rocking-chair. She followed him, and stood leaning against the table.
“Then you––you didn’t get lost?”
“Say, you folks make me sick. Why ’ud I get lost more’n other fellers? You guess I’m a kid––but I ain’t. Lost! Gee! Say, sis, Peter orter know’d wher’ I was. I told him I was goin’. An’ I went. Sure I went.” He rubbed his delicate hands together in his glee. His eyes sparkled again with rising excitement. But Eve forgot her fears for him now; she was interested. She was lifted out of her own despair by his evident joy, and waited for him to tell his story.
But Elia had his own way of doing things, and that way was rarely a pleasant one. Nor was it now, as Eve was quickly to learn.
“Yes, sure, Peter’s a fule, someways––but I like him. He’s real good. Say, sis, he’s goin’ to give me all the gold he finds. He said so. Yep. An’ he’ll do it. Guess he’s good. That’s sure why I didn’t do what he told me not to.”
He sat blinking up at his sister with impish amusement. Suddenly something in his expression stirred his sister to alarm. Nor could she have said how it came to her, or what the nature of the alarm. It was there undefined, but none the less certain.
“What did he tell you not to do?” she asked anxiously.
“Give him away. Say, here, I’ll tell you. It’s a dandy yarn. Y’see I ain’t just as other folks are, sis; there’s258things I ken do, an’ things I ken understand wot other folks can’t. Say, I ken trail like––like a wolf. Well, I guess one day I told Peter I could trail. I told him I could trail your Will, an’ find out wher’ he got his gold.”
“And did you?”
The girl’s demand was almost a shriek. The boy nodded his bent head wisely, and his eyes lit with malice.
“And you didn’t give him away? You wouldn’t––you wouldn’t? He’s my husband.”
The pleading in his sister’s voice was pitiful to hear.
“That’s sure what Peter made me promise––or I wouldn’t get his gold.”
Eve breathed more freely. But her relief was short-lived.
The boy began to laugh. It was a soft chuckle that found no expression in his face. The sound of it sent a shudder through the harassed woman.
“No. I didn’t give him away,” he said suddenly. “Sis, I trailed an’ trailed, an’ I found him. Gee, I found him. He was diggin’ his gold, but it was in the hides of cattle, an’ with a red-hot brandin’ iron. Gee! I watched him, but he didn’t see me. Oh, no, I took care of that. If he’d seen me he’d sure have killed me. Say, sis, your Will’s a cattle-thief. You’ve heerd tell of ’em, ain’t you? Do you know what they do to cattle-thieves? I’ll tell you. They hang ’em. They hang ’em slow. They haul ’em up, an’ their necks stretch, an’––an’ then they die. Then the coyotes come round an’ jump up an’ try to eat ’em. An’ they hang there till they stink. That’s how they treat cattle-rustlers. An’ Will’s a cattle-rustler.”
“For God’s sake, be quiet!”
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The woman’s face was terrible in its horror, but it only seemed to give the boy pleasure, for he went on at once.
“Ther’ ain’t no use in squealin’. I didn’t give him away. I’d like to, because I’d like to see Will with his neck pulled sure. But I want Peter’s gold, an’ I wouldn’t get it if I give him away.”
“Did you come straight back here?” Eve questioned him sharply, a faint hope stirring her.
“Yep, sis, straight here.” He laughed silently while he watched her with feline glee. “An’ jest as fast as I could get, too. You see, I guessed I might miss Doc Crombie.”
“Doc Crombie?” The girl’s eyes dilated. She stood like one petrified.
“Sure. You see I couldn’t give Will away because of Peter. But I told him wher’ the stolen cattle wer’. An’ that I’d seen the rustlers at work, an’ if he got busy he’d get ’em right off, an’–––”
But he got no further; Eve had him by the shoulders in a clutch that chilled his heart to a maddening fear. His eyes stared, and he gasped as though about to faint.
“You told him that––you––you? You never did! You couldn’t! You wouldn’t dare! Oh, God, and to think! Elia, Elia! Say you didn’t. You’ll never––you’ll never get Peter’s gold!”
The woman was beside herself. She had no idea of what she was saying. All she knew was that Doc Crombie had been told of Will’s hiding-place, and, for all she knew, might be on his way there now. Discovery was certain; and discovery meant–––
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But suddenly she realized the boy’s condition. He was on the verge of collapse from sheer dread of physical hurt. His face was ashen, and his eyes were almost starting from their sockets. In an agony of remorse and fear she released him and knelt before him.
“I’m sorry, Elia. I didn’t mean to hurt you. But––but you haven’t told Doc?” she cried piteously. “Say you haven’t, dear. Oh, God!”
She abruptly buried her face in her hands as though to shut out the horrid sight of this thing her brother had done.
Elia recovered quickly, but his vicious glee had dropped to a sulky savagery.
“You’re a fule, sis,” he said, in a sullen tone. “I sure did it for you––an’ ’cos I hate him. But say,” he cried, becoming suddenly suspicious. “I didn’t tell Doc who it was. I kep’ my promise to Peter. I sure didn’t give him away. So why for do you raise sech a racket? An’ anyway if he hangs you won’t be married to him no more. You–––”
He broke off, listening. The sound of a horse galloping could be plainly heard. The noise abruptly ceased, and the boy looked up with the light of understanding in his eyes.
“One o’ the boys, sis. One o’ Doc’s boys. Mebbe–––”
But he was interrupted by the opening of the outer door, and Peter Blunt strode in.
The expression of the man’s face was sufficient explanation of his unceremonious visit. He made no pretense at apology. He glanced swiftly round the little parlor, and finally espied Eve and her brother through261the open kitchen door. He hurried across and stood before them, his eyes on the boy he had spent two days searching for.
“Thank God I’ve found you, laddie–––” he began.
But Eve cut him short.
“Oh, Peter, Peter, thank God you’ve come!” she cried.
Immediately the man’s eyes were transferred to her face.
“What is it?” he demanded sharply. And some of the girl’s terror suddenly clutched at his heart.
“He’s found him. Will, I mean. Will’s the cattle-thief. He found him in the midst of re-branding. And he came right in and told––told Doc Crombie.”
In an instant Elia was sitting forward defending himself.
“I didn’t tell him who he was. Sure I didn’t, ’cos you said I wouldn’t get that gold if I did––if I give him away. I didn’t give him away, sure––sure. I jest told Doc where he’d find the rustlers. That’s all. That ain’t giving Will away, is it?”
But Peter ignored the boy’s defense. His shrewd mind was working swiftly. Here was his own unspoken suspicion of the man verified. The whole situation was all too clear. He turned to Eve with a sharp inquiry.
“So Will’s the cattle-thief. You knew it?”
The girl shook her head and wrung her hands piteously.
“No, no; I didn’t know it. Indeed, indeed, I didn’t. Lately I suspected––thought––but I didn’t know.” Then she cried helplessly. “Oh, Peter, what’s to be done? We must––we must save him!”
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In an instant Elia was on his feet protesting.
“What for you want to save him?” he cried. “He’s a crook. He’s a thief. He’s bad––I tell you he’s bad.”
But Peter suddenly thrust out one great hand and pushed him back into his chair.
“Sit there and keep quiet,” he said sternly. “Now, let’s think. You told Doc, eh?”
“Yes,” retorted the boy sulkily. “An’ he’s goin’ out after ’em to-night. An’ I’m glad, ’cos they’ll get him.”
“If they get him you’ll never get your gold, laddie, because you’ve given him away. Do you understand?”
Eve, watching these two, began to realize something of the working of Peter’s mind. He meant to win Elia over to his side, and was adopting the only possible means.
The boy remained obstinately silent, and Peter went on.
“Now, see here, which would you rather do, get that gold––an’ there’s plenty; it comes right through here to Barnriff––or see Will hang?”
In spite of his hatred of Will, the boy was dazzled.
“I’d like to see Will hang––but––I’d rather git the gold.”
“Well,” said Peter, with a sigh of relief, “ther’s just one way for you to get it. You’ve got to put us wise how to get to Will to warn him before Doc gets him. If Will hangs, you don’t get your gold.”
A sudden hope lit Eve’s troubled face. This man, she knew, was to be Will’s savior––her savior. Her heart swelled with thankfulness and hope. This man, without a second’s demur, had embraced her cause, was ready to incriminate himself, to save the worst criminal a cattle country263knows, because––just because he wanted to help a woman, who was nothing to him, and never could be anything to him. It was the love he had for all suffering humanity, the wonderful charity of his kindly heart, that made him desire to help all those who needed his help.
She was listening now to the manner in which he extracted from her unwilling brother the information he sought. He did it bit by bit, with much care and deliberation. He wanted no mistake. The direction in which Will’s secret corrals lay must be given with the last word in exactness, for any delay in finding him might upset his purpose.
Having extracted all the information necessary, he gave the lad a final warning.
“Now, see here, Elia, you’re a good lad––better than you seem; but I’m not going to be played with. I’ve got gold in plenty, sure, and you’re going to get it if you stay right here, and don’t say a word to any one about Will or this cattle-rustling. If you do anything that prevents Will getting clear away, or let folks know that he’s the rustler, then you get no gold––not one cent.”
“Then, wot’s this I’ve heerd about Jim? Guess you want him to get the blame. You want ’em to hang Jim Thorpe?”
The boy’s cunning was paralyzing. Eve’s eyes widened with a fresh fear, and, for a moment, Peter was gravely silent.
“Yes,” he said presently, “for a while he must still have the blame.”
Then he turned to the woman.
“I wish I could get hold of Jim,” he said regretfully. “Amongst other things, I want his horse.”
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In an instant Eve remembered.
“He’s over in your shack. I saw him go there at sundown.”
Peter’s face cleared.
“Good,” he cried. “Come on, we’ll all go over there. I’ll go by the front way, with Elia. You sneak out the back way after we’re gone.”
265CHAPTER XXIVFOR A WOMAN
Seated before the cold stove in Peter Blunt’s hut, Jim Thorpe was lost in moody thought. His day had been long and wearying. He had risen before sun-up with little enough hope in his heart to cheer his day in the saddle, and now he was contemplating his blankets at night with even less.
Search, search. That had been his day. A fruitless search for the one man whom he now believed to be the only person who could lift the blight of suspicion from his overburdened shoulders.
Yes, where most Eve had sought to shield, she had most surely betrayed by her woman’s weakness and fear. For the truth had been forced upon Jim’s unsuspicious mind even against himself. Eve’s terror, during her long talk with him on his return from McLagan’s ranch, had done the very thing she had most sought to prevent. Her whole attitude had told him its own story of her anxiety for some one, and that some one could only have been her husband. And the rest had been brought about by the arguments of his own common sense.
At first her fear had only suggested the anxiety of a friend for himself, at the jeopardy in which public suspicion had placed him. Now he laughed at the conceit of the thought, although, at the time, it had seemed natural enough. Then the intensity of her fears had become so great, and the personal, selfish note in her attitude266so pronounced, that his suspicion was aroused, and he found himself groping for its meaning, its necessity.
Her terror seemed absurd. It could not be for him. It was out of all proportion. No, it was not for him. Was it for herself? He could see no reason. Then, why? For whom? And in a flash, as such realizations sometimes do come, even to the most unsuspicious, the whole thing leaped into his focus. If she had nothing to fear for herself, for whom did she fear? There was but one person––her husband.
If she feared for her husband, then she must suspect him. If she suspected, then there must be reason. But once this key was put into his hand, it needed little argument to make the whole thing plain. Point after point occurred to his mind carrying with each a conviction that was beyond the necessity of any argument that he could offer. He saw the whole thing with much the same instinctive conviction with which the wife had seen it.
Will had calculated his revenge on him carefully. He saw now what Eve had missed. The using of the “double star” brand,––which he must have stolen from Jim’s implement shed––the running of the small bunch of McLagan’s cattle with his, Jim’s; these things had been well thought out, a carefully calculated revenge for his interference on the night Will had come so near to killing his own wife. He meant to throw suspicion upon him, suspicion which, in such a country of hot-headed cattlemen, was so narrowly removed from conviction.
So he had set out on his solitary quest to find this man, and had failed. He felt that he must find him, yet he hardly knew how it could serve him to do so. For there was that in the back of his mind which sorely troubled him.
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He was thinking of Eve. Poor Eve! With Will found, or suspicion directed upon him, her troubles would be a hundred times magnified. The man was her husband, and there was no doubt in his mind, that, whatever his faults, she still loved him. If he needed confirmation of his belief there was her anxiety, her terrible dread when talking to him. The position was one to tax a far more subtle mind than his. What was to be done?
Clear himself he must, but every way he looked seemed to be barred by the certainty of bringing disgrace and unhappiness upon Eve. The thought revolted him, and yet––and yet, why should he take the blame? Why should he leave his name stinking in the mire of such a crime? It was maddening. What devilish luck! Was there no end to the cruelty of his fate?
Suddenly, he laughed. He had to, or the thing would drive him to something desperate. Fate had such refreshing ways of getting at a man. She brought about his disgrace through no fault of his own, and then refused him the only means of clearing himself. Fortune certainly could be a jade when she chose. Clear himself at the expense of the one woman in the world he loved? No, he couldn’t do that. Perhaps that was why he was given such a cruel chance.
But his whimsical moment was quickly gone. The tragedy of his position was all too harsh for such levity, and he frowned down at the cold iron of Peter’s stove. What must he do? He could see no way out. For perhaps the hundredth time that day his question remained unanswered. One thing he had made up his mind to, although he could not see how it was to help him in his dilemma. He must find Will Henderson.
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He rose from his seat, stretched his aching limbs, and turned to his blankets.
But he did not unroll them. The heavy step of some one approaching startled him. Who could it be? Peter was away––and yet––and yet––– He listened intently, and suddenly his eyes lit. It was like Peter’s step. He went to the door and threw it open, and in a moment was greeting the one man whose coming at such a moment could have made him feel glad.
“Say, Peter, this is bully,” he cried, shaking the big man’s hand. “I didn’t guess you’d be coming along in. Who’s that with you? Eh? Oh, Elia.”
Peter nodded. But his usual smile was lacking.
“Yes. Eve’s just coming along. Ah, here she is,” he added, as the girl suddenly appeared in the doorway. “Come in, my dear,” he went on kindly. “Guess we caught Jim before he got down for the night.”
Jim offered the girl no greeting. All thought of formalities was driven from his mind at the sight of her expression. The hunted look in her eyes was even greater than it had been two days ago, and he wondered what fresh development had brought it about. He was not long left in doubt. Peter eyed him ruefully, and then glanced at the door which was still open.
“It’s trouble, Jim, fresh trouble, so––I guess I’ll shut this door tight.”
While he was doing so, Jim pushed the chair toward Eve, into which she almost fell. Then he glanced at Elia, speculating. As Peter returned to the group he dropped back and seated himself on the rough bed, waiting for enlightenment. Peter leaned himself against the table, his grizzled face frowning thoughtfully.
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“I’m needing a horse to-night––now,” he said. “An’ he’s got to do sixty miles between this and sundown to-morrow. I want yours. Can I have it?”
The man’s shrewd blue eyes were steadily fixed on Jim’s face. He was putting all his knowledge of the ranchman to the test in his own subtle way. He was asking this man to help him against himself. He was asking this man to help him prevent his removing the unmerited suspicion with which he was branded. But he intended to do it openly, frankly. And his reason was because he understood a good deal of human nature, and of Jim Thorpe particularly.
“You can have him. What for?”
“No, no,” Eve cried, starting up to prevent Peter answering.
But the big man motioned her to calm herself.
“Don’t worry, Eve, my dear,” he said. “This thing’s between Jim an’ me. And I don’t think there’s going to be much explanation needed.”
Jim nodded, and his glance fell on Elia. He was wondering what part the boy was playing in the scene.
“It’s Will,” said Peter. “We’ve got to get him warned––for her sake.” He nodded in Eve’s direction, but turned away quickly as her face dropped into her two hands and remained hidden.
“You don’t need to tell me any more, Peter,” said Jim, huskily. “Just give me the other details. You see, I fancy I know all about him, except his whereabouts.”
Eve looked up startled.
“You know,” she whispered in awe.
Jim nodded.
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“I’ve thought things out this last two days,” he said quietly. Then he turned to Peter. “But this warning. What’s made it necessary? Have others been––thinking?”
“No. They’ve been put wise.” Peter’s eyes sought the unsmiling face of Elia. “You see, Elia hunted him out. He’s told Doc where he’ll find the rustlers. But mercifully he didn’t say who the rustler was.”
“Ah, Elia hates Will,” Jim said thoughtfully.
“Doc’s setting out to-night to––find him,” Peter added.
Jim glanced from Eve to the grizzled man. Just for a second he marveled at him. Then the feeling passed as recollections flew through his mind of a dozen and one kindnesses of heart which this quaint Englishman had performed. This was just the sort of thing Peter would do. He would simply, and unconcernedly, thrust his head into the lion’s jaws to help anybody.
“You’re going to take the warning?” he inquired.
“Sure.” Then Peter added apologetically, with a swift glance in Eve’s direction, “You see, we can’t let ’em––find him.”
A shadowy smile grew into Jim’s eyes. Peter wanted his horse for a purpose. And that very purpose would inevitably drive the brand which was already upon him deeper and deeper into his flesh. He was calmly asking him to sacrifice himself for Eve. He glanced in the girl’s direction, and all the old love was uppermost in his simple heart.
“When did you get in?” he asked Peter, abruptly.
“Just now.”
“Been in the saddle all day?”
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“Yep. But that’s no con–––”
“No. Only I was thinking.”
Jim’s eyes were still on Eve. The girl was looking straight before her at the stove. She could only wait. These men, she felt, were shouldering her burden. But she was anxious. Somehow she hadn’t the same knowledge of Jim that Peter had. But then, how should she? Her point of view was so different.
Suddenly Jim started up.
“No, Peter, old friend, you can’t have the horse––I need it.”
Peter started forward. He was startled out of his belief in the man.
“What in–––”
But Jim cut him short.
“Hold up, Peter. Eve’s here,” he said. Then he glanced at Elia. “I’ll carry that warning. And I’ll tell you why. Oh, no,” as Eve suddenly started to protest, “I’m only going to speak common sense. Here’s the facts which you, old friend, with all your wisdom, seem to have overlooked.” He smiled up into Peter’s face. “First, the man who goes must ride light. You can’t be accused of that. You see, we’ve sure got to get there first. My plug’s been out all day, and has only had about four hours’ rest. I can get the most out of him the easiest. Then, you see, you’re known to be in town, and if you pike the trail to-night folks’ll get guessing. Then, you see, it’s my business to be out––they expect it of me. Then––if things go wrong––which I don’t guess they will––my name stinks a bit around here, and, well, a bit more or less don’t cut any ice. Then there’s another thing––Elia. You’ve got to keep a close eye272on him, sure. If they get at him––well––– Anyway, that’s what I can’t do under the circumstances.”
Peter’s face grew almost stern as he listened to the marshaling of the man’s arguments. Jim saw his look and understood. But he had clearly made up his mind.
“It’s no use, Peter. You can’t have that horse. I’m going to get the saddle on.”
He rose to go. But the big man suddenly barred his way. His face was stern and set––something like a thunder-cloud seemed to have settled upon his kindly brow.
“Hold on. I’ll allow your arguments are mostly clear. Guess you’ll have to go. But I want to tell you this, Jim. If things go wrong, I’ll––I’ll shoot the man that lays hands on you. I’ll shoot him dead!”
But Eve was on her feet at Jim’s side, and her soft hands were gripping his arm with a nervous clutch.
“No, no, Jim,” she cried, with tears in her eyes. “You––you mustn’t go. I see it now. I didn’t see it before. You––you are branded now, and––and you’re going to help him. Oh, Jim, you mustn’t! We had no right to ask for your horse. Indeed, indeed we hadn’t. You mustn’t go. Neither of you must. No, please, please stay. It means hanging if you are–––”
“Don’t you say anything more, Eve,” Jim said, gently but firmly releasing himself from her hold. “I’ve thought of all those things. Besides, you must never forget that Will––is my cousin.”
But Peter could stand no more.
“Come on,” he said, almost roughly. “It’s late enough already. Maybe they’ll be starting directly. Here, Elia,273you tell us just where Will’s in hiding, and mind you don’t miss anything.”
It took barely five minutes for Elia to give the required directions again, which he did ungraciously enough. But Peter verified his account with the original story, and was satisfied.
Then the two men went out and saddled the horse. In three minutes Jim was in the saddle, and Peter gripped him by the hand.
“The good God’ll help you out for this, Jim. So long.”
“So long.”
As the horseman passed the hut Eve and Elia were standing before the closed door. Jim saw them, but he would not pause. However, his keen ears heard the whispered “God bless you” which the woman threw after him. And somehow he felt that nothing else in his life much mattered.
A few moments later Eve was at her gate, fumbling for the latch. Elia was at her side, looking out at the lights of the village. Suddenly he turned and raised his beautiful face to hers.
“Say, sis, you’re a fule woman,” he declared sharply. He was listening to the sounds of bustle down at the saloon. “Can’t you hear? That’s the boys. They’ve come in, and they’re gettin’ ready to start with Doc. If they get him––they’ll hang him.”
“Him? Who? What d’you mean?”
The terrified woman was staring down into his calm eyes.
“Why––Jim.”
“Oh, God, no! They can’t! They won’t! He’s too274good––too brave! God will never let them. It would be too cruel.”
“Say, I guess you’d be sorry some?”
“Sorry?”
But Eve was fumbling again at the gate. Nor could the boy extract another word from her.
275CHAPTER XXVTHE TRAIL OF THE RUSTLERS
The blackness of night begins to stir. Ahead and above roll vague shadows, darkening, threatening, in the immensity of their wave-like shapes. Away behind the stars shine pitifully, for a dim gray light in the east heralds the coming of day. Slowly the shadows change from black to a faint gray, and their rolling becomes more pronounced. Now, with each passing moment, the eastern light grows, and the darkness of the west responds; now, too, the shadows show themselves for what they are. They stir and seethe like the churning of water nearly boiling, under the rising zephyrs of mountain air. They are the dense morning mists, a hazy curtain shutting out the mountain splendor beyond.
In less than half an hour a wonderful metamorphosis. A tinted fringe of cloud appears on the mists high up, and gives the impression of a beam of sunlight amidst the shadows. But no sun has broken the eastern sky-line, nor will it for another half-hour. Yet the light increases, and the swirling mists become a rosy cloudland, deep, ruddy, and exquisitely beautiful. The living fog rolls up, lifting, lifting, and every moment the picture grows in beauty and in its wonders of changing colors.
Eastward the horizon lights a glowing yellow, shot with feathery dashes of ruddy orange; yellow to green, and then the gray of the high starlit vault. But the stars are dimming, whimpering under their loss of power. Their archenemy276of day is approaching, and they must shrink away and hide till the fiery path of the monarch of the universe cools, and they are left again to their own.
Doc Crombie was riding at the head of his men when the sun cleared the horizon. He was staring ahead at the still hazy foot-hills, the hiding-place of the criminal he sought. The light of battle was in his keen, quick, luminous eyes. His face was set and stern. There was no mercy in the set of his jaws, in the drawn shaggy brows. He was out to rid the country, his country, of a scourge, a pestilence neither he nor his fellow townsmen would tolerate.
The rest of the vigilantes rode behind him, no less stern-faced than their leader. With fresh horses they had traveled long and hard that night. The journey had been chilly, and the trail rough. Their tempers were at a low ebb, and the condition only added to their determination to hang the man as soon as he was in their power.
Doc drew rein suddenly and called Smallbones to his side. The trail, which had now faded into something little better than a cattle track, was leading into the mouth of a narrow valley, bordered on either side by towering, forest-clad hills. He pointed ahead.
“That blamed kid said we’d keep right on down this cuttin’ to the third hill on the left,” he said. “It’s nigh four miles. Then we’d find a clump of scrub with two lone pines standin’ separate. Here we’d get a track of cattle marked plenty. Then we’d follow that for nigh two miles, and we’d drop into the rustlers’ hollow.”
“Sure. Don’t sound a heap o’ trouble,” said Smallbones, cheerfully.
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“Say, I’m not figgerin’ the trouble. But we’ve traveled slow. We won’t make it for an hour an’ more, an’ we’re well past sun-up now. It was waitin’ for the boys to git in. I sort o’ wish I’d brought that kid along.”
They were moving on again at a rapid canter, and Smallbones was riding at his side. The little man, like the rest, was armed liberally. But whereas the others were, for the most part, content with two guns, he had four. It would not be for lack of desire on his part if somebody did not die before noon.
“We couldn’t help startin’ late,” grumbled the little man. “An’ as fer that kid, I’d sure ’a’ kep’ him with us. Who’s to say he ain’t handed us a fool game? He’s a crank, anyways, an’ orter be looked after by State. He guessed he see the rustlers at work, but didn’t rec’nize ’em. I said right then he was bluffin’. D’you think he wouldn’t know Jim Thorpe?”
“Barkin’ that yet, eh!” retorted Doc, sharply. “Say, boy,” he went on with a great contempt, “you’re dirty. Jim Thorpe ain’t the man we’re after. Leastways I won’t believe it till we git him red-handed. I wouldn’t be out to-night if I thought it was Jim Thorpe. We left him back ther’ in the village. He’s been out two days chasin’ for rustlers. See here, you’re mean on him ’bout this thing, because things are queer his way. An’ you ain’t got savvee to see that it’s ’cos things is queer his way is just the reason he ain’t the dogone rustler we’re chasin’. You need to think a sight more. Mebbe it hurts some, but it’s a heap good.”
Smallbones shot a swift, sidelong glance at the doctor, in which there was little enough friendliness. He probably had no friendliness for anybody.
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“I’ll hand you a noo buggy to a three-year-old driver he’s our man,” he snapped.
“Done,” grinned the sporting doctor promptly. And Smallbones was the least bit sorry he had laid so generous odds.
By this time day was in its full early-morning glory, but they were passing from the dazzling light of the plains into the more sheltered atmosphere of the valley. Everywhere the hills rose about them, on either side and ahead. The gloomy woods on the vast slopes threw a marked shadow over the prospect. Ahead lay a wide vista of tremendous mountains, with their crowning, snow-bound peaks lost in a world of gray, fleecy cloud. In the heart of one distant rift lay the steely bed of a glacier, hoary with age and immovable as the very bedrocks of the mountains themselves. It sloped away into the distance, and lost itself in the heart of a mighty cañon. Even to these men on their trail of death, living, as they did, so adjacent to these mysterious wilds, the scene was not without its awe.
The doctor was watching the hills to the left. The first one seemed endless, and he sought a break in it in every shadowed indentation upon its face. He was feeling more anxious than his own words suggested. He was a shrewd man who had understood the ring of truth in Elia’s story at once, but now, in face of this stupendous world, he was wondering if he had been well advised in leaving the boy behind. He had only done so on the score of his crippled condition being a nuisance to them. However, his doubt found no further expression now, and his keen eyes watched for the landmarks in a way that left him little chance of missing them.
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At last the first hill came to a distinct end, and the second rose higher and more rough. Its face was torn and barren, and what timber there was grew low down almost at its foot. The valley was narrowing, and the rich prairie grass was changing to a lank tangle of weedy tufts. There was a suspicion of moisture, too, in the spongy tread. The sun further lost power here, between these narrowing crags, and, although summer was well advanced, the ground still bore the moist traces of the mountain spring.
The second hill was passed quickly. It was merely a split of the original mountain, the result, no doubt, of a great volcanic upheaval in the early days of the world. And now, as they rode on, the third and last landmark before the two lone pines rapidly slipped away behind them.
The leader bustled his horse. His nervous force was at a great tension of impatience. He, like the rest of the merciless band, was yearning for his goal.
At last the two lone pines loomed up. The eyes of the men brightened with eagerness, and their leader felt certain of the faith he had placed in Elia’s story. Now for the cattle tracks.
As they came abreast of the low bush, the doctor scattered his men in various directions to hunt for the trail. Nor did the matter take long. In less than five minutes two of the ranch hands lit on the tracks simultaneously. A great broad track of hoof-marks deeply indented in the soft ground stretched away up over the shoulder of the hill. So plain were they that the horsemen were able to follow them at a gallop.
Away up the hillside they sped. The way was a sharp280incline, but smooth and wide, and free from obstruction. And in ten minutes they were pausing to breathe their hard-blowing horses on the shoulder of the hill, with a wide view and a level track ahead of them.
The doctor turned to order a careful redistribution. They were near the rustlers’ hollow now, he believed, and it was his intention to leave nothing to chance. Each man received his instructions for the moment when the hollow should be reached, for Elia had given him full details of its locality, and the possibilities of approach.
He knew it to be a mere cup, with, apparently, no entrance or exit, except the way they were now approaching it. It had appeared to Elia to be surrounded by towering hills, densely clad in forests of spruce and pine. He had described the corral as being on the left front from the entrance, and that a hut, backing into the flanking woods, occupied the distance on the right.
The doctor’s disposition, in consequence, was simple. The whole party were to race at a gallop into the hollow. The eight leaders were to ride straight for the hut, no matter what fire might be opposed to them. The six men immediately in their rear were to open out and ride for the encompassing fringe of woods, lest any of the rustlers should make for escape that way. While the rest of the party were to ride for the corral, and round up everything that looked like a saddle horse; this last with a view to preventing any chances of ultimate escape.
These matters settled they continued their journey without loss of time. For every man of them was sternly eager to come to clinches with their quarry.281The excited interest was running high as they neared their goal. Then all at once Smallbones suddenly threw the whole party into confusion by flinging his horse abruptly upon its haunches, and wildly pointing up the hillside on their immediate left.
“Gee!” he cried, furiously. “Look at that. There! There! There he goes!”
But there was no need for his added explanation. Two hundred yards away to their left a horseman was racing headlong in a parallel direction. It needed no imagination to tell them that he was a scout carrying the alarm to his comrades in the hollow beyond.
But his course was a different one to that which might have been expected, for it showed no signs of converging with the track below, and was significant of an unsuspected, possibly secret entrance to the hiding-place.
But the doctor was a man for emergency. Four of the men carried rifles, and these he warned to be ready to fire on the fugitive when he gave the word.
Then he led his men at a race down the track.
It was an inspiring spot for the imaginative.
A little cup of perfect emerald green set within the darker border of the soft pinewoods. Above, the brilliant sky poured down a dazzling light through the funnel-like opening walled by an almost complete circle of hills. But the circle was not quite complete. There were three distinct, but narrow rifts, and they opened out in three widely opposite directions. The cup rim was almost equally divided into three.
In a spacious corral of raw timbers a number of282cattle were moving restlessly about, vainly searching for something with which to satisfy their voracious morning appetites. Close beside the corral was a small branding forge, its fire smouldering dismally in the chill air. Round about this, strewn upon the trampled grass, lay a number of branding irons, coiled ropes, and all the paraphernalia of a cattle-thief’s trade, while beside the corral itself were three telltale saddle horses, waiting ready for their riders on the first sound of alarm.
Fifty yards away stood a log hut. It was solid and practical, and comparatively capacious. A couple of yards away a trench fire was burning cheerfully. And over it, on an iron hook-stanchion, was suspended a prairie cooking “billy,” from which a steaming aroma, most appetizing at that hour of the morning, was issuing. Various camping utensils were scattered carelessly about, and a perfect atmosphere of the most innocent homeliness prevailed.
On the sill of the hut door Will Henderson was seated smoking, with his elbows planted on his knees, and his two hands supporting the bowl of his pipe. His eyes were as calmly contemplative as those of the stolen cattle in the corral.
To judge by his expression, he had no thought of danger, and his affairs were prospering to his keenest satisfaction. His handsome boyish face had lost all signs of dissipation. His eyes, if sullen, were clear, with the perfect health of his outdoor, mountain life. Nor was there anything of the vicious cattle-rustler about him. His whole expression suggested the hard-working youngster of the West, virile, strong, and bursting with the love of life.
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But here, again, appearances were all wrong. Will’s mood at that moment was dissatisfied, suspicious. He was yearning for the flesh-pots of town, as exampled by the bad whiskey and poker in Silas Rocket’s saloon.
Lying on the ground, close against the hut wall, two low-looking half-breeds in gaudy shirts, and wearing their black hair long and unkempt, were filling in the time waiting for breakfast, shooting “crap dice.” The only words spoken between them were the filthy epithets and slang they addressed to the dice as they threw them, and the deep-throated curses as money passed between them.
No, there was little enough to suggest the traffic in which these men were engaged. Yet each knew well enough that the shadow of the rope was hanging over him, and that, at any moment, he might have to face a life and death struggle, which would add the crime of murder to the list of his transgressions.
Will slowly removed his pipe from his mouth.
“Say, ain’t that grub ready?” he growled. “Hi, you, Pete, quit those dice an’ see to it. You’re ‘chores’ to-day. We’ve got to make forty miles with those damned steers before sun-up to-morrow.”
“Ho, you. Git a look at the grub yourself. Say–––”
He broke off listening. Then he dropped the dice he was preparing to throw, and a look of alarm leaped to his eyes. “I tink I hear hoofs. Hush!”
Will was on his feet in a second. The sullen light had vanished from his eyes and a startled look of apprehension replaced it.
“Those plugs cinched up?” he demanded sharply.284And mechanically his hand fell on the butt of one of the guns at his waist.
“Sure,” nodded the other half-breed.
All three listened acutely. Yes, the sound of galloping was plain to their trained hearing. The mountains carried a tremendous echo.
Without further words all three men set off at a run for the corral. Will was the fleetest and reached his horse first. In a second he was in the saddle and sat waiting, and listening for the next alarming sound.
“It’s Ganly, sure,” he muttered, turning one ear in the direction of the rapidly approaching sound.
“Sounds like dogone ‘get out,’” cried Pete, sharply. The shadow of the rope was very near him at that moment.
The other half-breed nodded.
“Hist!” A sudden fear leaped into Will’s eyes. “There’s others,” he cried. “Come on, and bad luck to the hindmost! Joe’s safe. He can get clear by the south trail. They can’t follow that way. I’m for the northeast. You best follow. Gee!”
His final exclamation burst from him at the echoing reports of several rifles. And now the sound of galloping hoofs was very near. The men waited no longer. Will set spurs into his horse, and the half-breeds, following him, raced for the northeast exit from the hollow.
But they had waited just a second or two longer than was safe. For, as they reached the forest path, and were vanishing beneath the shadowy trees, a fierce yell went up behind them. Pete, looking back over his shoulder, hissed his alarm to his speeding comrades.