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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/18563-8.txt b/18563-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d38184a --- /dev/null +++ b/18563-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,6035 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Raw Gold, by Bertrand W. Sinclair + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Raw Gold + A Novel + +Author: Bertrand W. Sinclair + +Illustrator: Clarence H. Rowe + +Release Date: June 12, 2006 [EBook #18563] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAW GOLD *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Janet Blenkinship and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + [Illustration: HICKS DREW HIS AND SLAPPED ME OVER THE HEAD WITH IT, EVEN + AS MY FINGER CURLED ON THE TRIGGER. + + _Frontispiece. Page 161._] + + + + + RAW GOLD + + A NOVEL + + BY + + BERTRAND W. SINCLAIR + + _Illustrations by_ + CLARENCE H. ROWE + + G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY + PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + + Copyright, 1907, by + STREET & SMITH + + Copyright, 1908, by + G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY + + Issued June, 1908 + + _Raw Gold_ + + + + + CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. The Long Arm of the Law 7 + + II. A Reminiscent Hour 18 + + III. Birds of Prey 30 + + IV. A Tale Half Told 59 + + V. Mounted Again 50 + + VI. Stony Crossing 58 + + VII. Thirty Days in Irons 69 + + VIII. Lyn 85 + + IX. An Idle Afternoon 103 + + X. The Vanishing Act, and the Fruits Thereof 116 + + XI. The Gentleman Who Rode in the Lead 130 + + XII. We Lose Again 146 + + XIII. Outlawed 163 + + XIV. A Close Call 179 + + XV. Piegan Takes a Hand 197 + + XVI. In the Camp of the Enemy 214 + + XVII. A Master-stroke of Villainy 226 + + XVIII. Honor Among Thieves 240 + + XIX. The Bison 251 + + XX. The Mouth of Sage Creek 258 + + XXI. An Elemental Ally 271 + + XXII. Speechless Hicks 283 + + XXIII. The Spoils of War 294 + + XXIV. The Pipe of Peace 303 + + + + + ILLUSTRATIONS + PAGE + + Hicks drew his and slapped me over the head with it, even as my + finger curled on the trigger Frontispiece 161 + + Bedded in the soft earth underneath lay the slim buckskin sacks 159 + + "There's been too much blood shed over that wretched gold already. + Let them have it" 212 + + A war for the open road against an enemy whose only weapon was + his unswerving bulk 256 + + + + +RAW GOLD. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE LONG ARM OF THE LAW. + + +How many of us, I wonder, can look back over the misty, half-forgotten +years and not see a few that stand out clear and golden, sharp-cut +against the sky-line of memory? Years that we wish we could live again, +so that we might revel in every full-blooded hour. For we so seldom get +the proper focus on things until we look at them through the clarifying +telescope of Time; and then one realizes with a pang that he can't +back-track into the past and take his old place in the passing show. + +Would we, if we could? It's an idle question, I know; wise men and musty +philosophers say that regrets are foolish. But I speak for myself only +when I say that I would gladly wheedle old, gray-bearded _Tempus_ into +making the wheels click backward till I could see again the +buffalo-herds darkening the green of Northwestern prairies. They and the +blanket Indian have passed, and the cowpuncher and Texas longhorns that +replaced them will soon be little more than a vivid memory. Already the +man with the plow is tearing up the brown sod that was a stamping-ground +for each in turn; the wheat-fields have doomed the sage-brush, and +truck-farms line the rivers where the wild cattle and the elk came down +to drink. + +It was a big life while it lasted--primitive, exhilarating, spiced with +dangers that added zest to the game; the petty, sordid things of life +only came in on the iron trail. There was no place for them in the old +West, the dead-and-gone West that will soon be forgotten. + +I expect nearly everybody between the Arctic Circle and the Isthmus of +Panama has heard more or less of the Northwest Mounted Police. They're +changing with the years, like everything else in this one-time buffalo +country, but when Canada sent them out to keep law and order in a +territory that was a City of Refuge for a lot of tough people who had +played their string out south of the line, they were, as a dry old +codger said about the Indian as a scalp-lifter, naturally fitted for the +task. And it was no light task, then, for six hundred men to keep the +peace on a thousand miles of frontier. + +It doesn't seem long ago, but it was in '74 that they filed down the +gangway of a Missouri River boat, walking as straight and stiff as if +every mother's son of them had a ramrod under his tunic, and out on a +rickety wharf that was groaning under the weight of a king's ransom in +baled buffalo-hides. + +"Huh!" old Piegan Smith grunted in my ear. "Look at 'em, with their +solemn faces. There'll be heaps uh fun in the Cypress Hills country when +they get t' runnin' the whisky-jacks out. Ain't they a queer-lookin' +bunch?" + +They were a queer-looking lot to more than Piegan. Their uniforms fitted +as if they had grown into them; scarlet jackets buttoned to the throat, +black riding-breeches with a yellow stripe running down the outer seam +of each leg, and funny little round caps like the lid of a big +baking-powder can set on one side of their heads, held there by a narrow +strap that ran around the chin. But for all their comic-opera get-up, +there was many a man that snickered at them that day in Benton who +learned later to dread the flash of a scarlet jacket on the distant +hills. + +They didn't linger long at Benton, but got under way and marched +overland to the Cypress Hills. On Battle Creek they built the first +post, Fort Walsh, and though in time they located others, Walsh remained +headquarters for the Northwest so long as buffalo-hunting and the Indian +trade endured. And Benton and Walsh were linked together by great +freight-trails thereafter, for the Mounted Police supplies came up the +Missouri and traveled by way of long bull-trains to their destination; +there was no other way then; Canada was a wilderness, and Benton with +its boats from St. Louis was the gateway to the whole Northwest. + +Two years from the time Fort Walsh was built the La Pere outfit sent me +across the line in charge of a bunch of saddle-horses the M. P. +quartermaster had said he'd buy if they were good. I turned them over +the afternoon I reached Walsh, and inside of forty-eight hours I was +headed home with the sale-money--ten thousand dollars--in big bills, so +that I could strap it round my middle. I remember that on the hill south +of the post the three of us, two horse-wranglers and myself, flipped a +dollar to see whether we kept to the Assiniboine trail or struck across +country. It was a mighty simple transaction, but it produced some +startling results for me, that same coin-spinning. The eagle came +uppermost, and the eagle meant the open prairie for us. So we aimed for +Stony Crossing, and let our horses jog; there were three of us, well +mounted, and we had plenty of grub on a pack-horse; it seemed that our +homeward trip should be a pleasant jaunt. It certainly never entered my +head that I should soon have ample opportunity to see how high the +"Riders of the Plains" stacked up when they undertook to enforce +Canadian law and keep intact the peace and dignity of the Crown. + +We had started early that morning, and by the time we thought of camping +for dinner we saw ahead of us what we could tell was a white man's camp. +It wasn't far, so we kept on, and presently it developed that we had +accidentally come upon old Piegan Smith. He was lying there ostensibly +resting his stock from the hard buffalo-running of the past winter, but +I knew the old rascal's horses were more weary from a load of moonshine +whisky they had lately jerked into the heart of the territory. But he +was there, anyway, and half a dozen choice spirits with him, and when +we'd said "Howdy" all around they proceeded to spring a keg of whisky on +us. + +Now, the whole Northwest groaned beneath a cast-iron prohibition law at +that time, and for some years thereafter. No booze of any description +was supposed to be sold in that portion of the Queen's domain. If you +got so thirsty you couldn't stand it any longer, you could petition the +governing power of the Territory for what was known as a "permit," which +same document granted you leave and license to have in your possession +one gallon of whisky. If you were a person of irreproachable character, +and your humble petition reached his excellency when he was amiably +disposed, you might, in the course of a few weeks, get the desired +permission--but, any way you figured it, whisky was hard to get, and +when you got it it came mighty high. + +Naturally, that sort of thing didn't appeal to many of the +high-stomached children of fortune who ranged up and down the +Territory--being nearly all Americans, born with the notion that it is a +white man's incontestable right to drink whatever he pleases whenever it +pleases him. Consequently, every mother's son of them who knew how +rustled a "worm," took up his post in some well-hidden coulée close to +the line, and inaugurated a small-sized distillery. Others, with less +skill but just as much ambition, delivered it in four-horse loads to +the traders, who in turn "boot-legged" it to whosoever would buy. Some +of them got rich at it, too; which wasn't strange, when you consider +that everybody had a big thirst and plenty of money to gratify it. I've +seen barrels of moonshine whisky, so new and rank that two drinks of it +would make a jack-rabbit spit in a bull-dog's face, sold on the quiet +for six and seven dollars a quart--and a twenty-dollar gold piece was +small money for a gallon. + +All this, of course, was strictly against the peace and dignity of the +powers that were, and so the red-coated men rode the high divides with +their eagle eye peeled for any one who looked like a whisky-runner. And +whenever they did locate a man with the contraband in his possession, +that gentleman was due to have his outfit confiscated and get a chance +to ponder the error of his ways in the seclusion of a Mounted Police +guardhouse if he didn't make an exceedingly fast getaway. + +We all took a drink when these buffalo-hunters produced the "red-eye." +So far as the right or wrong of having contraband whisky was concerned, +I don't think any one gave it a second thought. The patriarchal decree +of the government was a good deal of a joke on the plains, +anyway--except when you were caught defying it! Then Piegan Smith set +the keg on the ground by the fire where everybody could help himself as +he took the notion, and I laid down by a wagon while dinner was being +cooked. + +After six weeks of hard saddle-work, it struck me just right to lie +there in the shade with a cool breeze fanning my face, and before long I +was headed smoothly for the Dreamland pastures. I hadn't dozed very long +when somebody scattered my drowsiness with an angry yelp, and I raised +up on one elbow to see what was the trouble. + +Most of the hunters were bunched on one side of the fire, and they were +looking pretty sour at a thin, trim-looking Mounted Policeman who was +standing with his back to me, holding the whisky-keg up to his nose. A +little way off stood his horse, bridle-reins dragging, surveying the +little group with his ears pricked up as if he, too, could smell the +whisky. The trooper sniffed a moment and set the keg down. + +"Gentlemen," he asked, in a soft, drawly voice that had a mighty +familiar note that puzzled me, "have you a permit to have whisky in your +possession?" + +Nobody said a word. There was really nothing they could say. He had them +dead to rights, for it was smuggled whisky, and they knew that policeman +was simply asking as a matter of form, and that his next move would be +to empty the refreshments on the ground; if they got rusty about it he +_might_ haze the whole bunch of us into Fort Walsh--and that meant each +of us contributing a big, fat fine to the Queen's exchequer. + +"You know the law," he continued, in that same mild tone. "Where is your +authority to have this stuff?" + +Then the clash almost came. If old Piegan Smith hadn't been sampling the +contents of that keg so industriously he would never have made a break. +For a hot-tempered, lawless sort of an old reprobate, he had good +judgment, which a man surely needed if he wanted to live out his +allotted span in the vicinity of the forty-ninth parallel those troubled +days. But he'd put enough of the fiery stuff under his belt to make him +touchy as a parlor-match, and when the trooper, getting no answer, +flipped the keg over on its side and the whisky trickled out among the +grass-roots, Piegan forgot that he was in an alien land where the law is +upheld to the last, least letter and the arm of it is long and +unrelenting. + +"Here's my authority, yuh blasted runt," he yelled, and jerked his +six-shooter to a level with the policeman's breast. "Back off from that +keg, or I'll hang your hide to dry on my wagon-wheel in a holy minute!" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +A REMINISCENT HOUR. + + +The policeman's shoulders stiffened, and he put one foot on the keg. He +made no other move; but if ever a man's back was eloquent of +determination, his was. From where I lay I could see the fingers of his +left hand shut tight over his thumb, pressing till the knuckles were +white and the cords in the back of his hand stood out in little ridges. +I'd seen _that_ before, and I recalled with a start when and where I'd +heard that soft, drawly voice. I knew I wasn't mistaken in the man, +though his face was turned from me, and I likewise knew that old Piegan +Smith was nearer kingdom come than he'd been for many a day, if he did +have the drop on the man with the scarlet jacket. He was holding his +pistol on a double back-action, rapid-fire gun-fighter, and only the +fact that Piegan was half drunk and the other performing an impersonal +duty had so far prevented the opening of a large-sized package of +trouble. While on the surface Smith had all the best of it, he needed +that advantage, and more, to put himself on an even footing with Gordon +MacRae in any dispute that had to be arbitrated with a Colt; for MacRae +was the cool-headed, virile type of man that can keep his feet and burn +powder after you've planted enough lead in his system to sink him in +swimming water. + +There was a minute of nasty silence. Smith glowered behind his cocked +pistol, and the policeman faced the frowning gun, motionless, waiting +for the flutter of Piegan's eye that meant action. The gurgling keg was +almost empty when he spoke again. + +"Don't be a fool, Smith," he said quietly. "You can't buck the whole +Force, you know, even if you managed to kill me. You know the sort of +orders we have about this whisky business. Put up your gun." + +Piegan heard him, all right, but his pistol never wavered. His thin +lips were pinched close, so tight the scrubby beard on his chin stood +straight out in front; his chest was heaving, and the angry blood stood +darkly red under his tanned cheeks. Altogether, he looked as if his +trigger finger might crook without warning. It was one of those long +moments that makes a fellow draw his breath sharp when he thinks about +it afterward. If any one had made an unexpected move just then, there +would have been sudden death in that camp. And while the lot of us sat +and stood about perfectly motionless, not daring to say a word one way +or the other, lest the wrathful old cuss squinting down the gun-barrel +_would_ shoot, the policeman took his foot off the empty cause of the +disturbance, and deliberately turning his back on Piegan's leveled +six-shooter, walked calmly over to his waiting horse. + +Smith stared after him, frankly astonished. Then he lowered his gun. +"The nerve uh the darned----Say! don't go off mad," he yelled, his anger +evaporating, changing on the instant to admiration for the other's +cold-blooded courage. "Yuh spilled all the whisky, darn yuh--but then I +guess yuh don't know any better'n t' spoil good stuff that away. No hard +feelin's, anyhow. Stop an' eat dinner with us, an' we'll call it +square." + +The policeman withdrew his foot from the stirrup and smiled at Piegan +Smith, and Piegan, to show that his intentions were good, impulsively +unbuckled his cartridge-belt and threw belt and six-shooters on the +ground. + +"I don't hanker for trouble with a _hombre_ like you," he grunted. "I +guess I was a little bit hasty, anyhow." + +"I call you," the policeman said, and stripping the saddle and bridle +from his sweaty horse, turned him loose to graze. + +"Hello, Mac!" I hailed, as he walked up to the fire. He turned at the +sound of my voice with vastly more concern than he'd betrayed under the +muzzle of Piegan's gun. + +"Sarge himself!" he exclaimed. "Beats the devil how old trails cross, +eh?" + +"It sure does," I retorted, and our hands met. + +He sat down beside me and began to roll a cigarette. You wouldn't call +that a very demonstrative greeting between two old _amigos_ who'd bucked +mesquite and hair-lifting Comanches together, all over the Southwest. It +had been many a moon since we took different roads, but MacRae hadn't +changed that I could see. That was his way--he never slopped over, no +matter how he felt. If ever a mortal had a firm grip on his emotions, +MacRae had, and yet there was a sleeping devil within him that was never +hard to wake. But his looks gave no hint of the real man under the +surface placidity; you'd never have guessed what possibilities lay +behind that immobile face, with its heavy-lashed hazel eyes and plain, +thin-lipped mouth that tilted up just a bit at the corners. We had +parted in the Texas Panhandle five years before--an unexpected, +involuntary separation that grew out of a poker game with a tough crowd. +The tumultuous events of that night sent me North in undignified haste, +for I am not warlike by nature, and Texas was no longer healthy for me +unless I cared to follow up a bloody feud. But I'd left Mac a +trail-boss for the whitest man in the South, likewise engaged to the +finest girl in any man's country; and it's a far cry from punching cows +in Texas to wearing the Queen's colors and keeping peace along the +border-line. I knew, though, that he'd tell me the how and why of it in +his own good time, if he meant that I should know. + +One or two of the buffalo-hunters exchanged words with us while Mac was +building his cigarette and lighting it. Old Piegan stretched himself in +the grass, and in a few moments was snoring energetically, his grizzled +face bared to the cloudless sky. The camp grew still, except for the +rough and ready cook pottering about the fire, boiling buffalo-meat and +mixing biscuit-dough. The fire crackled around the Dutch ovens, and the +odor of coffee came floating by. Then Mac hunched himself against a +wagon-wheel and began to talk. + +"I suppose it looks odd to you, Sarge, to see me in this rig?" he asked +whimsically. "It beats punching cows, though--that is, when a fellow +discovers that he isn't a successful cowpuncher." + +"Does it?" I returned dryly. "You were making good in the cow business +last time I saw you. What did you see in the Mounted Police that took +your fancy?" + +He shrugged his shoulders philosophically. "They're making history in +this neck of the woods," he said, "and I joined for lack of something +better to do. You'll find us a cosmopolitan lot, and not bad specimens +as men go. It's a tolerably satisfying life--once you get out of the +ranks." + +"How about that?" I queried; and as I asked the question I noticed for +the first time the gilt bars on his coat sleeve. "You've got past the +buck trooper stage then? How long have you been in the force?" + +"Joined the year they took over the Territory," he replied. "Yes, I've +prospered in the service. Got to be a sergeant; I'm in charge of a +line-post on Milk River--Pend d' Oreille. You'd better come on over and +stay with me a day or two, Sarge." + +"I was heading in that direction," I answered, "only I expected to cross +the river farther up. But, man, I never thought to see you up here. I +thought you'd settled down for keeps; supposed you were playing +major-domo for the Double R down on the Canadian River, and the father +of a family by this time. How we do get switched around in this old +world." + +"Don't we, though," he said reflectively. "It's a great game. You never +know when nor where your trail is liable to fork and lead you to new +countries and new faces, or maybe plumb over the big divide. Oh, well, +it'll be all the same a hundred years from now, as Bill Frayne used to +say." + +"You've turned cynic," I told him, and he smiled. + +"No," he declared, "I rather think I'd be classed as a philosopher; if +you could call a man a philosopher who can enjoy hammering over this +bald country, chasing up whisky-runners and hazing non-treaty Indians +onto reservations, and raising hell generally in the name of the law. +Still, I don't take life as seriously as I used to. What's the use? We +eat and drink and sleep and work and fight because it's the nature of us +two-legged brutes; but there's no use getting excited about it, because +things never turn out exactly the way you expect them to, anyhow." + +"If that's your philosophy of life," I bantered, "you ought to make a +rattling good policeman. I can see where a calm, dispassionate front +would save a man a heap of trouble, at this sort of thing." + +"Josh all you like," MacRae laughed, "but I tell you a man does save +himself a heap of trouble when he doesn't get too anxious whether things +come out just as he wants them to or not. Six or seven years ago I +couldn't have done this sort of work. I've changed, I reckon. There was +a time when I'd have felt that there was only one way to settle a row +like I just had. And the chances are that I would have wound up by +putting that old boy's light out. Which wouldn't have helped matters any +for me, and certainly would have been tough on old Piegan Smith--who +happens to be a pretty fair sort; only playing the opposite side of the +game." + +As if the low-spoken sound of his name had reached his ears and +electrified him, Piegan sat up very suddenly, and at the same instant +the cook sounded the long call. So we broke off our chat, and getting a +tin plate and cup and a set of eating-implements, we helped ourselves +from the Dutch ovens and squatted in the grass to eat. + +When we'd finished, one of the hunters rounded up the horses and we +caught our nags and saddled them. MacRae was going back to his post that +night, and I also was in haste to be traveling--that ten thousand +dollars of another man's money was a responsibility I wanted to be rid +of without the least possible delay. Pend d' Oreille was twenty-five or +thirty miles south of us--a long afternoon's ride, but MacRae and I were +glad of each other's company, and it was worth while straining a point +to have even one night's shelter at a Police camp in that semi-hostile +country. There were no road-agents to speak of, for sums of money large +enough to tempt gentry of that ilk seldom passed over those isolated +trails; but here and there stray parties of Stonies and Blackfeet, young +bucks in war-paint and breech-clout, hot on the trail of their first +medicine, skulked warily among the coulée-scarred ridges, keeping in +touch with the drifting buffalo-herds and alert for a chance to ambush a +straggling white man and lift his hair. They weren't particularly +dangerous, except to a lone man, still there was always the chance of +running slap into them, in which case they usually made a more or less +vigorous attempt to wipe you out. A red coat, however, was a passport to +safety; even so early in the game the copper-colored brother had learned +that the Mounted Police were a hard combination--an enemy who never +turned back when he took the war-trail. + +When we were mounted Mac leaned over and muttered an admonitory word for +Piegan's ear alone. "Better lay low, Smith," he said, "and let the +boot-leggers go it on their own hook for a while. We are watching for +you. It's only a matter of time till somebody takes you in, because your +whisky is making lots of nasty work for us these days, and we've got +orders from the big chief to nail you if there's a show. I'm passing up +this little affair to-day. That doesn't count. But the next time you +cross the river with a four-horse load of it I'll be on you like a wolf. +If I don't, some other fellow will. _Sabe?_ Think it over." + +Smith bit off a huge chew of tobacco, while he digested MacRae's +warning. Then he looked up with a smile that broadened to a grin. +"You're all right," he said cheerfully. "I like your style. If I get the +worst of the deal, I won't holler. So-long!" + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +BIRDS OF PREY. + + +Once clear of the buffalo-hunters' camp, MacRae and I paired off and +speedily began to compare notes, where we had been, what we had done, +how the world had used us in the five years since we had seen each other +last. And although we gabbled freely enough, MacRae avoided all mention +of the persons of whom I most wished to hear. I didn't press him, for I +knew that something out of the common must have happened, else he would +not have been wearing the Queen's scarlet, and I didn't care to bring up +a subject that might prove a sore one with him. But men we had known and +trails we had followed furnished us plenty of grist for the +conversational mill. Our talk ranged from the Panhandle to the Canada +line, while our horses jogged steadily southward. + +Dark came down on the four of us as we topped Manyberries Ridge, and +seven or eight miles of rolling prairie still lay between us and +Pend d' Oreille. If Mac had been alone he would have made the post by +sundown, for the Mounted Police rode picked horses, the best money could +buy. But it was a long jaunt to Benton, and the rest of us were inclined +to an easier pace, that we might husband the full strength of our +grass-fed mounts for any emergency that should arise on the way. + +With the coming of night a pall of clouds blew out of the west, +blanketing the stars and shutting off their hazy light completely, and +when the sky was banked full from horizon to horizon, the dark enveloped +us like a black sea-mist. Once or twice we startled a little bunch of +buffalo, and listened to the thud of their hoofs as they fled through +the sultry, velvet gloom; but for the most our ride was attended by no +sounds save the night song of frogs in the upland sloughs and the hollow +clank of steel bits keeping time to the creak of saddle-leather. + +Halfway down the long slope MacRae and I, riding in the lead, pulled up +to make a cigarette on the brink of a straight-walled coulée that we +could sense but not see. As I waited for Mac to strike a match my eyes +roved about, seeking to pierce the unnatural blackness that wrapped +itself about us, and while my gaze was for an instant fixed on the +night-enshrouded canyon, a red tongue of flame flashed out for a moment +in the inky shadow below. MacRae saw it also, and held the match +unstruck. + +"Must be somebody camped down there," I hazarded. + +"A camp-fire would hardly flash and die out like that, Sarge," he +answered thoughtfully. "At least, not an ordinary one. There are some +folk in this country, you know, who manifest a very retiring disposition +at times. That looks to me like a blind fire or a signal. Let's wait a +minute." + +We sat there on our horses, grouped close together, a minute that +lengthened to five; then MacRae broke off in the middle of a sentence as +the flare leaped up, flickered an instant, and was blotted out again. I +could have sworn I heard a cry, and one of my men spoke in a tone that +assured me my imagination had not been playing a trick. + +"Hear that?" he asked eagerly. "Somebody hollered down there." + +"I don't much like that," MacRae said, in a low tone. "I have a hunch +that something crooked is going on, and I reckon I'll go down and see +what that fire means. You fellows better go a little farther and wait +for me." + +"Not on your life," I protested. "You might run into most any kind of +formation. We'll go in a bunch, if we go at all." + +"Might be Injuns," Bruce Haggin put in. "An', anyhow, whatever play +comes up, four men's a heap better'n one. If you're bound t' mix in, +why, lead the way. I'm kinda curious about what's down there m'self." + +So near to the post it was that MacRae almost knew the feel of the +ground underfoot. He led us a hundred yards along the rim of the bank +and stopped again. + +"This is as good a place as any, but you'll have to get down and lead +your horses," he warned. "It's a devil of a scramble from here to the +bottom." + +We dismounted, and speedily found that MacRae hadn't exaggerated the +evil qualities of that descent. If there had been boulders on that +hillside the noise of our coming would have alarmed a deaf man; but the +soft dirt and slippery grass gave out no sound, though we slid and +tumbled and dug in our heels for a foothold till the sweat streamed down +our cheeks. + +At the bottom we mounted again and followed MacRae in a cautious file +around clumps of willow and rustling quaking-asp to the place where the +blaze should have shown. But no glint of fire appeared in any direction; +the coulée-bottom lay more dark and silent, if that were possible, than +the gloomy hills above. Perplexed, MacRae halted, and we bunched +together, whispering, each of us straining his eyes and ears to catch +some sight or sound of life in that black, ghostly quiet. We might have +concluded that our senses had been playing pranks at our expense, that +the flame we had seen from the ridge was purely an imaginary thing, but +for the rank, unmistakable odor of burning wood--a smell no man bred in +a land of camp-fires can mistake. We were near it, wherever it was, but +how near we had no means of knowing. + +After a bit of waiting, Mac decided that the smoke was floating from a +certain direction, and we began to edge carefully that way. Presently we +circled a clump of brush, to come near riding right into a banked fire, +barely visible, even at short range, under its covering of earth. A +dimly outlined bulk lay beside it, and leaning over in our saddles, the +faint glow of the coals revealed a man's body, half stripped of its +clothing, and--oh, well, such things are so utterly devilish you +wouldn't credit it. It's bad enough to kill, even when it's necessary; +but I never could understand how a white man could take a leaf out of +the Indian's torture-book. + +The fire had been heaped over with earth--to screen it from prying eyes, +I suppose, while the good work went on. We got off our horses and +stooped over the man, forgetting for the moment that danger might lurk +in the surrounding thicket. Mac swore under his breath when he bent and +peered keenly at the man's face; then he straightened up and kicked a +part of the clay covering from the smoldering embers. As the bright glow +of a little cascade of sparks pierced the darkness, a voice in our rear +called sharply: "Hands up!" and we swung round to behold two masked +faces regarding us from behind steadily held Winchesters. + +The very suddenness of the hold-up made it a complete success. Apart, +and moving, we might have scattered in the brush like young quail, and +so have been able to give the gentlemen a hard run for the money. But we +were bunched together, shocked out of all caution, staring at the +pitiful figure at our feet when MacRae unmasked the fire, and the flare +of it surrounded us with a yellow nimbus that made us fair marks for a +gun. With that dazzling light in our eyes and those ugly-looking +customers at the business end of the guns, it would have been out and +out suicide to reach for a six-shooter. For at that period in +Northwestern history, when a man had the drop on you under such +conditions, there was absolutely no question of what would happen if you +made a suspicious move. We were fairly caught, and there was nothing to +do but elevate our digits and paw the air as commanded. + +It took one of those Western Turpins about a minute to relieve us of our +artillery, after which he silently proceeded to lead our horses out of +sight. When he did that I began to hope the horses were all they wanted, +that they had no knowledge of the money I carried; but my hopes died an +early death, for he was back in a moment, and the man behind the gun +indicated me with a motion of the Winchester. + +"That long, stoop-shouldered gazabo's got the stuff on him," he growled. + +There was half a second when I entertained a wild notion of getting +fractious. A fellow hates to make a bungle of the first decent trust +he's had in a long time; but I was in a tight place, and I couldn't +figure where I'd delay giving up beyond the length of time it would take +the gentleman with the Winchester to drill me. Under the circumstances +it didn't take long to decide that it was a heap better all around to be +robbed alive than dead--they'd get the money anyway, and if I got myself +shot up to no purpose that would spoil all chance of getting back at +them later. + +The silent partner wasted no time in fruitless search of my person. He +seemed to know right where to look, which was another feature of the +play that I didn't _sabe_ at the time. He reached down inside my shirt, +with a none too gentle hand, and relieved me of the belt that held the +money. Then the pair of them backed up, still covering us, and faded +away in the gloom. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +A TALE HALF TOLD. + + +When they were gone we let our hands down to their natural level and +drew a long breath. + +"We appear to have got considerably the worst of this transaction," I +observed. "The La Pere outfit is shy something like ten thousand +dollars--we're afoot, minus everything but cigarette material. It's a +wonder they didn't take that, too. A damn good stroke of business, all +right," I finished, feeling mighty sore at myself. When it was too late, +I could think of half a dozen ways we might have avoided getting held +up. + +"I got you into it, too," MacRae said calmly. "But don't get excited and +run on the rope this early in the game, Sarge; you'll only throw +yourself. Brace up. We've been in worse holes before." Never a word of +what it might mean to him; never even hinted that the high moguls at +Fort Walsh were more than likely to put him on the rack for letting any +such lawless work be carried out successfully, in his own district. A +Mounted Policeman can make no excuses for letting a tough customer slip +through his fingers; the only way he can escape censure is to be brought +in feet first. + +He motioned to the poor devil lying by the fire. + +"Look at him, Sarge," he went on, in a different tone. "You always had a +pretty good memory for faces. So have I, for that matter, but--go +ahead--look." + +I bent over the man, looked closely at the still features, dropped on +one knee and turned his face toward the firelight to make sure. I +recognized him instantly, and I knew that MacRae had no doubts of his +identity, for each of us had broken bread and slept in the same blankets +with that quiet figure. + +"It's Rutter," I whispered, and MacRae nodded silently. + +"He's done for, too--no, by God, he isn't!" I cried, and shrank +involuntarily, for his eyeballs rolled till only the whites showed in a +way that made me shudder. "He's not dead, yet, Mac!" + +"One of you fellows get some water," Mac commanded. He squatted beside +me, holding up Rutter's head. In a minute Bruce was back with his hat +full of water from the creek that whimpered just beyond the willow +patch. I peeled off my coat and spread it over the marred limbs, and +Bruce held the water so that I could dip in my hand and sprinkle +Rutter's face. After a little his mouth began to twitch. Queer gurgling +sounds issued from his throat. He moved his head slightly, looking from +me to MacRae. Presently he recognized us both; his face brightened. + +"Gimme a drink," he whispered huskily. + +Mac propped him up so that he could sip from the hat. He came near going +off again, but rallied, and in a second or two his lips framed a +question: + +"Did yuh--get 'em?" + +I shook my head. "You might say that they got us," I answered. + +"Who were they, Hans?" MacRae questioned eagerly. "And why did they do +this to you? We'll make them sweat blood for this night's work. Did you +know them? Tell us if you can." + +"No," Rutter spoke with a great effort. Each sentence came as if torn +piecemeal from his unwilling tongue; short, jerky phrases, conceived in +pain and delivered in agony. "We--me'n Hank Rowan--comin' from the +North--made a stake on the Peace. They started it--at the Stone--yuh +know--Writin'-Stone. Hank an' me--you'll find Hank in the +cottonwoods--Stony Crossin'. I tried--tried t' make Walsh. Two of +'em--masked--tried t' make me tell--tell 'em--where we made the _cache_. +I'm--I'm done--I guess. The dust, it's--it's--_a-a-ah_----" + +The gnarled hands shut up into clenched fists, and the feeble voice +trailed off in an agonized moan. + +I laved his pain-twisted face with the cool water and let a few drops +trickle into his open mouth. He gasped a few times, then, gathering +strength again, went on with that horrible spasmodic recitation. + +"They were after us--a long time. Lyn's at Walsh. There's a--a good +stake. Get it--for her. It's _cached_--under the Stone--yuh +know--Writin'-Stone. Three sacks. That's what--they wanted. +You'll--you'll--on the rock above--marked--gold--raw gold--that's +it--gold--raw gold--Mac--I want--I want----" + +That was all. The tense muscles relaxed. His head fell back limp on +MacRae's arm, and the rest of the message went with the game old +Dutchman across the big divide. We laid him down gently, folded his arms +on his breast, and for a moment held our peace in tribute to his +passing. + +MacRae was first to speak. + +"There's a lot back of this that I can't understand," he said, more to +himself than to the rest of us. "It beats me why these two old cowmen +should be here in this country, tangled up with buried gold-dust, and +being hunted like beasts for its possession. Old Hans was certainly in +his right mind or he wouldn't have known us; and if he told us right, +Hank Rowan has been murdered too. If Lyn is at Walsh, she may be able to +shed some light on this. But I'll swear I feel like a man groping in a +dark room." + +"If Lyn is at Walsh," I asserted stoutly, "she got there since I left +this morning. I was there two days, and I wasn't in the background by +any means; and she's the sort of girl that isn't backward about hailing +a friend. We know one thing--the men that killed Rutter are the ones +that held us up, and got off with that money of mine. And say--how did +those fellows know I had that money and where I was carrying it? Good +Lord! it sounds like the plot of a dime novel." + +It was a stubborn riddle for us to try and read. And our surroundings at +that particular moment were not the most favorable to coherent thought +or plausible theory-building. When a man has been robbed at the point of +a gun, and set afoot in the heart of an unpeopled waste, with a dead man +and a dying fire for company, his nerves are apt to get a little bit on +edge. Things that wouldn't tax your fortitude in daylight look like the +works of the devil when you have to face them in the black hours of the +night. None of us are so far removed from savagery that a few grains of +superstition don't lurk in our souls, all ready to bob up if the setting +is appropriate. If it should ever be my lot to take the Long Trail at +short notice, I hope it will be under a blue sky and a blazing sun. It +was hard to be philosophic, or even decently calm, standing there in the +sickly glow of the fading coals with old Hans mutely reminding us that +life is a tenuous thread, easily snipped. + +A little night breeze rustling the willows about us brought into my mind +the fact that our masked acquaintances could easily sneak up and pot us +if, as an afterthought, they decided to do a really workmanlike job. +Doubt it? Wasn't the dead man stretched in the shadow convincing proof +of their capacity for pure devilishness? Read the history of those days +along the line, and you'll turn some red pages. There were no half-way +measures in the code of an outlaw then; the pair who held us up would +have taken our lives as nonchalantly as they relieved us of our material +possessions had we proved in the least degree troublesome. + +I hinted what was in my mind to MacRae, and when he agreed that it was a +possible contingency, we filed out of the treacherous light and squatted +in the edge of a quaking-asp grove where we couldn't be seen, and where +a coyote, much less a man, couldn't steal up on us without the crackle +of dry brush betraying him. + +"What do you think you'll do, Sarge?" Mac whispered to me, while we sat +there undecided as to our next move. "Go on to Benton, or stay here on +the chance of breaking even?" + +"I've got to stick; it's the only thing I can do," I growled back. "I've +been sure enough whipsawed this deal, but I'm still in the game, and +when it comes to calling the last turn I'll be there with a stack of +blues. How in hell can I show my face in Benton while some other fellow +is packing the money La Pere trusted me to bring back? If I can rustle +horses I'll send these two boys on home, with a note to the old man +explaining how the play came up. If those jaspers flash any part of the +roll in the Territory before snowfall, I'll get them. I've got to get +them, to square myself." + +"That would be my idea, if I were in your place," he answered. "If +they're like the average run of men that turn a trick of that kind, +they'll give themselves away in the long run. It's lucky, in a way, that +you had paper money instead of gold; the big bills will be their +downfall if they undertake to spend them in this country--and if old +Hans had it straight, they're not going to pull out with a measly ten +thousand dollars. It's an ugly mess, and liable to be worse before it's +cleaned up. If there is a stake like that _cached_ around the Stone, +these land pirates will camp mighty close on the trail of anybody that +goes looking for it. And it won't be any Sunday-school picnic dealing +with them--they showed a strong hand there," he motioned to the place +where Rutter lay. + +"The best thing we can do," he continued, "is to drag it for Pend +d' Oreille, afoot. We have two extra horses there. We can get a little +sleep and move early in the morning. I'll have to report this thing in +person at Walsh, but before I do I want to know if Hank Rowan was really +killed at Stony Crossing. If we find him there as Rutter said, you can +gamble that trouble has camped in our dooryard for a lengthy stay. And +it might be a good idea for you to give your men a gentle hint to keep +their mouths closed about this affair--all of it. There's a slim chance +at the best of finding that gold, even if it's there, and it won't help +us nor the rest of the Force to run down the men who held us up, if +everybody on both sides of the line gets to talking about it." + +"I'll tell them," I agreed. "I reckon you have the right idea. I think +it's a cinch that if we land the men that set us afoot and got away with +the money, we'll have the cold-blooded brutes that put Hans Rutter's +light out. But I don't _sabe_, Mac, why those old-timers should be mixed +into a deal of this kind. Their cattle and range on the Canadian had a +gold-mine beat to death for money-making; old men like them don't jump +two thousand miles from home without mighty strong reasons." + +"They probably had, if we only knew," MacRae muttered. "I reckon we'd +better start; we can't do any good here." + +Mac led the way. The four of us slipped through the brushy bottom as +silently as men unaccustomed to walking might go, for we had no +hankering, unarmed as we were, to bring those red-handed marauders after +us again, if they happened to be lurking in that canyon. Rutter's body +we had no choice but to leave undisturbed by the blackening fire. In the +morning we would come back and bury him, but for that night--well, he +was beyond any man's power to aid or injure, lying there alone in the +dark. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +MOUNTED AGAIN. + + +We stumbled along, close up, for the thick-piled clouds still hung their +light-obscuring banners over the sky. Three yards apart we became +invisible to each other. I followed behind MacRae more or less +mechanically, though I was, in a way, acutely conscious of the necessity +for stealthy going, one part of my mind busy turning over the quick +march of events and guessing haphazard at the future. + +Striding along in this mental semi-detachment from the business in hand, +some three hundred yards down the coulée I tripped over a fallen +cottonwood and drove the point of a projecting limb clean through the +upper of my boot and into the calf of my leg--not a disabling wound, but +one that lacked nothing in the way of pain. The others stopped while I +pulled out the snag, which had broken off the trunk, and while I was +about this a familiar clattering noise uprose near-by. Ever hear a horse +shake himself, like a water-spaniel fresh from a dip, when he has been +tied for a long time in one place with the dead weight of a heavy stock +saddle on his back? There is a little by-play of grunting and clearing +of nostrils, then the slap of skirts and strings and stirrup-leathers--a +man never forgets or mistakes the sound of it, if he has ever slept in a +round-up camp with a dozen restless night-horses saddled and tied to a +wagon twenty feet from his bed. But it made us jump, welling up out of +the dark so unexpectedly and so near. + +"Saddle-horse--tied," Mac tersely commented. We squatted in the long +grass and buck-brush, listening, and a few seconds later heard a horse +snort distinctly. This sound was immediately followed by the steady beat +of an impatient forefoot. + +"Over yonder," I said. "And there's more than one, I think. Let's +investigate this. And we'd better not separate." + +Fifty yards to the left we struck a cottonwood grove, and in the outer +edge of it loomed the vague outline of a horse--when we were almost +within reaching-distance of him. I ran my hand over the saddle and knew +it instantly for Bruce Haggin's rig. A half-minute of quiet prowling +revealed our full quota of livestock, even to the pack-horse that bore +our beds and grub, each one tied hard and fast to a tree. Also our +six-shooters reposed in their scabbards, the four belts hooked over the +horn of MacRae's saddle. + +Maybe it didn't feel good to be on the hurricane deck of a good horse +once more! Whenever I have to walk any distance, I can always understand +why a horse-thief yields to temptation and finally becomes confirmed in +his habit. It was rather an odd thing for those outlaws to leave +everything, even to our guns, but I figured--and time proved the +correctness of my arithmetic--that they had bigger fish to fry. + +Once in the saddle, with the comfortable weight of a cartridge-belt +around each man's middle, we experienced a revulsion of feeling. Primed +for trouble if we could jump it out of the brush, we rode the bottom +for half an hour. But our men were gone. At least, we could not locate +them. So we took to the upland again and loped toward Pend d' Oreille. + +"I've been thinking it isn't so strange--those old fellows being in this +country--after all," Mac suddenly began, as we slowed our horses down to +take a hill. "I didn't remember at first, but two years ago, just after +I joined the Force, I ran across a bull-whacker on the Whoop Up trail, +and he told me that the Double R had closed out. He said Hank had got +into a ruction with Dick Feltz--you recollect there was considerable +feeling between them in our time down there--and killed him one day at +Fort Worth. Feltz had some folks that took it up, and Hank had to spend +a barrel of money to come clear. That, and a range war that grew out of +the killing, and some kind of a business deal just about broke them. +That's the way this fellow had it; said a trail-boss told him at +Ogalalla that spring. I didn't take much stock in the yarn at the time, +but I'm beginning to think he had it straight. You didn't hear anything +about it?" + +"Not a word; it's news to me," I said. "When I left that country I kept +moving north all the time. The last three years I've been in the Judith +Basin, and southern outfits haven't begun to come in there yet. So I +haven't had much chance to hear from that part of the world. But I'm +framing up my think-works so I won't be surprised at anything I see or +hear after to-night. How long since you left that country, Mac?" + +"Next spring after you did," he answered. "If they did go broke, I can +_sabe_ their being here. Rutter said, you know, that they'd made a stake +on the Peace--Peace River, I suppose he meant. There's been a lot of +placer mining in that north country the last three or four years. They +might have been up there and struck it good and plenty. They made their +start in the cow business off a placer in California, you know." + +I knew that, for Rowan often spoke of it. And granting that we had +surmised rightly, it required no vivid imagination to picture what +might happen to men crossing those wide prairies with a fortune in +yellow dust. But my imagination was hardly equal to the task of +reconciling the fact that the evil pair had been busy at other deviltry +and yet knew I carried a large sum of money and where it was concealed +about my person. That brought me back to something else Rutter had told +us; something that I knew--or thought I knew--touched MacRae very +closely. + +"Hans said Lyn was at Walsh," I remarked. "I don't think she was there, +this morning. But she might be due to arrive there. Hang it all, Mac, +what the dickens chased you away from the Canadian?" + +"Looking back, I can't just say what it was," he presently replied, in a +hard, matter-of-fact tone. "You see, one's feelings can change, Sarge. +It looks different to me now than it did then. I reckon I could have +written essays on the futility of sentiment, and the damned silliness of +a man who thinks he cares for a woman. But I'm past that stage. And so +I can't say for sure just how it was or why. Something came up between +me and Lyn--and I drifted, and kept drifting. Went through Colorado, +Wyoming, Montana; finally rambled here, and went into the Force +because--well, because a man with anything to him can go to the top. A +man must play at something, and this looked like a good game." + +There was a note of something that I'd never heard in MacRae's voice +before; neither bitterness nor anger nor sorrow nor lonesomeness, and +yet there was a hint of each, but so slight, so elusive I couldn't grasp +it. I remembered that the last sentence MacRae had spoken to me in the +South was a message to Lyn Rowan, a message that I never had the +pleasure of delivering, for my hasty flitting took me out other trails +than the one that led to the home ranch. And so they had parted--gone +different ways--probably in anger. Well, that's only another example of +the average human's cussedness. Lyn could be just as haughty as she was +sweet and gracious, which was natural enough, seeing she'd ruled a +cattle king and all his sunburned riders since she was big enough to +toddle alone; and Gordon MacRae wasn't the sort of man who would come to +heel at any woman's bidding--at least, he wasn't in the old days. Oh, I +could understand how it happened, all right. Each of them was chuck full +of that dubious sort of pride that has busted up more than one +love-_fiesta_. + +Neither of us spoke again, and at length the squat log buildings of Pend +d' Oreille loomed ahead of us in the night. Tired and hungry, we stabled +our horses, ate a bite, and rolled into bed. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +STONY CROSSING. + + +"There's Stony Crossing, Sarge; and over yonder, at the west end of that +blue ridge, is Writing-on-the-Stone." + +At the foot of the long slope on which we stood Milk River glinted in +the sunshine, deceptively beautiful--a shining example of the truth of +that old saw about distance lending enchantment, for, looking down on +the placid stream slipping smoothly along between fringes of scrubby +timber, one would never guess that miles and miles of hungry quick-sands +lined the river-edge, an unseen trap for the feet of the unwary. + +Stony Crossing I could see, even without Mac's guiding finger. The Whoop +Up trail, a brown streak against the vivid upland green, dipped down the +hillside to our right, down to the sage-grown flat, and into the river +by the great boulders that gave the ford its name. The blue ridge up +the river I gave scant heed to; the Writing-Stone was only a name to me, +for I'd never seen the place. My attention was all for the scene at +hand. The patch of soft green that I knew for the cottonwoods Rutter had +spoken of drew my roving gaze whether I would or no. I have ridden on +pleasanter missions than the one that took us to Stony Crossing that +day. + +"It's sure tough," I voiced a thought that had been running in my mind +all morning, "to think that a good old fellow like Hank Rowan has been +murdered and left to rot on the prairie like a skinned buffalo. Hanged +if I can make myself really believe we'll find him down there." + +"The more I think of it, the more I'm inclined to believe that we will," +MacRae answered evenly. "We'll know beyond a doubt in the next hour. So +we might as well go on." + +If I hadn't known him so well I might have thought he didn't care a damn +what we found at Stony Crossing, that he was as unmoved as the two +case-hardened troopers who rode with us. But that repression was just as +natural to him as emotional flare-ups are to some. Whatever he felt he +usually kept bottled up inside, no matter how it hurt. I never saw him +fly to pieces over anything. He was something of an anomaly to me, when +I first knew him. I was always so prone to do and say things according +to impulse that I thought him cold-blooded, a man without any particular +feeling except a certain pride in holding his own among his fellows. + +But I revised my opinion when I came to know him better. Under the +surface he was sensitive as a girl; one could wound him with a word or a +look. Paradoxically, he was absolutely cold-blooded toward a declared +enemy. He would fight fair, but without mercy. Side by side with the +sensitive soul of him, and hidden always under an impassive mask of +self-control, lay the battling spirit, an indomitable fighting streak; +it cropped out in a cool, calculating manner of taking desperate chances +when the sleeping devil in him was roused. He would sidestep +trouble--and one met the weeping damsel at many turns of the road in +those raw days--if he could do it without loss of self-respect; but the +man who stirred him up needlessly, or crowded him into retaliation, +always regretted it--when he had time to indulge in vain regrets. And +you can bet your last, lone _peso_, and consider it won, that MacRae +meant every word when he said to old Hans Rutter: "We'll make them sweat +blood for this." + +When we got down into the bottom Mac turned aside to the deep-worn trail +and glanced sharply down at the ruts. The dust in them lay smooth, and +the hoof-marks that showed were old and dim. + +"I wondered if there had been any freight teams pass lately," he +explained. "But there hasn't--not for a day or two, anyway. Let's look +in the timber." + +That was a long time ago, and since then I have seen much of life and +death in many countries, but I can recall as distinctly as if it were +yesterday the grim sight that met us when we rode in among the +whispering cottonwoods. We found Hank Rowan in a little open place, +where rifts of sunlight filtered through the tangled branches; one +yellow bar, full of quivering motes, rested on the wide-open eyes and +mouth, tinting the set features the ghastly color of a plaster cast. The +horse he had ridden lay dead across his legs, and just beyond, a +crumpled heap against the base of a tree, was the carcass of a mule, +half-hidden under a bulky pack. The thing that sickened me, that stirs +me even yet, was a circular, red patch that crowned his head where +should have been thick, iron-gray hair. + +"The damned hounds!" MacRae muttered. "They tried to make it look like +an Indian job." + +The pack-ropes had been cut and the pack searched. In the same manner +they had gone through his pockets and scattered a few papers and letters +on the ground. These we gathered carefully together, against the time of +meeting Lyn, and then--for time pressed, and a dead man, though he may +be your friend and his passing a sorrow, is out of the game forever--we +dragged him from beneath the dead horse, wrapped him in the canvas +pack-cover, and buried him in the soft leaf-mold where he lay, as we +had buried his lifetime partner early in the morning. When we had +finished, MacRae ordered his two troopers back to Pend d' Oreille, and we +mounted our horses and turned their heads toward Fort Walsh. + +It is seventy miles in an air-line from Stony Crossing to the fort. That +night we laid out, sleeping without hardship in a dry buffalo-wallow, +and noon of the next day brought us to Walsh, a huddle of log buildings +clustering around a tall pole from which fluttered the union jack. + +Off to one side of the fort a bunch of work-bulls fed peacefully. Down +in the creek bottom a tent or two flapped in the mid-day breeze, and in +their neighborhood uprose the smoke of half a dozen dinner fires. By the +post storeroom, waiting their turn to unload, was ranged a line of the +tarpaulin-covered wagons, wheeled galleons of the plains, that brought +food and raiment to the Northwest before the coming of steam and steel. + +"That looks to me like Baker's outfit, from Benton," I said to MacRae, +as we swung off our horses before the building in which the officer of +the day held forth. "They must have come by way of Assiniboine." + +"Probably," Mac answered. "And over yonder's the paymaster's train. At +least, he's due, and I can't account for a bunch of horses in charge of +a buck trooper any other way." + +We clanked into the ante-room--that's what I call it, anyway. It +happened that I didn't stay around those police posts long enough to get +familiar with the technical terms for everything. Not that they wouldn't +have welcomed my presence; faith, their desire for my company was only +equaled by my reluctance to accept their hospitality. There was a while +when I developed a marvelous capacity for dodging invitations to Fort +Walsh. And if the men in scarlet had been a bit swifter, or I a little +slower, I'd have had ample leisure to observe life in the Force from the +inside--of the guardhouse. As I said, we went into the ante-room, and +there I got my first peep at the divinity that doth hedge--not a king, +but a commissioned officer in Her Majesty's N. W. M. P. An orderly held +us up, and when MacRae had convinced him that our business was urgent, +and not for his ears, he graciously allowed us to enter the +Presence--who proved to be a heavy-set person with sandy, mutton-chop +whiskers set bias on a vacuous, round, florid countenance. His +braid-trimmed uniform was cut to fit him like the skin of an exceedingly +well-stuffed sausage, and from his comfortable seat behind a flat-topped +desk he gazed upon us with the wisdom of a tree-full of owls and the +dignity of a stage emperor. + +MacRae's heels clicked together and his right hand went up in the stiff +military salute. The red-faced one acknowledged it by a barely +perceptible flip of a fat paw, then put a little extra stiffening into +his spinal column and growled, in a voice that seemed to come booming up +from the region of his diaphragm, "Pro-ceed." + +MacRae proceeded. But he didn't get very far. In fact, he'd barely +articulated, 'I have to report, sir, that----' when the human sausage +bethought himself of something more important, and held up one hand for +silence. He produced a watch and studied it frowningly, then dismissed +us and the recital of our troubles with a ponderous gesture. + +"Repawt again," he rumbled, away down in his chest cavity, "at +hawf--pawst--one." + +"Yes, sir," MacRae saluted again, and we withdrew. + +"A beautiful specimen; a man of great force," I unburdened myself when +we got outside. "Have you many like him? I'd admire to see him cavorting +around on the pinnacles after horse-thieves or whisky-runners or a bunch +of bad Indians. A peaceable citizen would sure do well on the other side +of the line if sheriffs and marshals took a lay-off to feed themselves +when a man was in the middle of his complaint. How long do you suppose +it will take that fat slob to get a squad of these soldier-policemen on +the trail of that ten thousand?" + +MacRae laughed dryly. "Old Dobson is harmless, all right, so far as +hunting outlaws is concerned. But he doesn't cut much figure around +here, one way or the other; no more than two or three other 'haw-haw' +Englishmen who got commissions in the Force on the strength of their +family connections. Lessard--the major in charge--is the brains of the +post. He gets out and does things while these fatheads stay in quarters +and untangle red tape. Personally, I don't like Lessard--he's a damned +autocrat. But he's the man to whip this unorganized country into shape. +I imagine he'll paw up the earth when he hears our story." + +We mounted and rode to the stables. When we'd unsaddled and put up our +horses, Mac led the way toward a row of small, whitewashed cabins set +off by themselves, equidistant from barrack and officers' row. + +"Sometimes I eat with the sergeants' mess," Mac said. "But generally I +camp with 'Bat' Perkins when I drop in here. Bat's an ex-stock-hand like +ourselves, and we'll be as welcome as payday. And he'll know if Lyn +Rowan has come to Walsh." + +I wasn't in shape, financially, to have any choice in the matter of a +stopping-place. Forty or fifty dollars of expense money covered the +loose cash in my pockets when I left Walsh for Benton; and, while I may +have neglected to mention the fact, those two coin-collectors didn't +overlook the small change when they held me up for La Pere's roll. There +was a sort of sheebang--you couldn't call it a hotel if you had any +regard for the truth--on the outskirts of Walsh, for the accommodation +of wayfarers without a camp-outfit, but most of the time you couldn't +get anything fit to eat there. So I was mighty glad to hear about Bat +Perkins. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THIRTY DAYS IN IRONS! + + +It transpired, however, that before we reached Bat Perkins' cabin Mac +got an unexpected answer to one of the questions he intended to ask. As +we turned the corner of a rambling log house, which, from its +pretentiousness, I judged must house some Mounted Police dignitary, we +came face to face with a tall, keen-featured man in Police uniform, and +a girl. Even though Rutter had declared she would be at Walsh, I wasn't +prepared to believe it was Lyn Rowan. Sometimes five years will work a +wonderful change in a woman; or is it that time and distance work some +subtle transition in one's recollection? She didn't give me much time to +indulge in guesswork, though. While I wondered, for an instant, if there +could by any possibility be another woman on God's footstool with quite +the same tilt to her head, the same heavy coils of tawny hair and +unfathomable eyes that always met your own so frankly, she recognized +the pair of us; though MacRae in uniform must have puzzled her for an +instant. + +"Gordon--and Sarge Flood! Where in the world did you come from? +And--and----" She stopped rather suddenly, a bit embarrassed. I knew +just as well as if she had spoken the words, that she had been on the +point of asking him what he was doing in the yellow-striped breeches and +scarlet jacket of a Mounted Policeman. Whatever had parted them, she +hadn't held it against him. There was an indefinable something in the +way she spoke his name and looked at him that told me there was still a +soft spot in her heart for the high-headed beggar by my side. + +But MacRae--while I was wise to the fact that he was the only friend I +had in that country, and the sort of friend that sticks closer than a +brother, I experienced a sincere desire to beat him over the noodle with +my gun and thereby knock a little of the stiffness out of his +neck--simply saluted the officer, tipped his hat to her, and passed on. +I didn't _sabe_ the play, and when I saw the red flash up into her face +it made me hot, and there followed a few seconds when I took a very +uncharitable view of Mr. Gordon MacRae's distant manner. + +The fellow with her, I noticed, seemed to draw himself up very stiff and +dignified when she stopped and spoke to us; and the look with which he +favored MacRae was a peculiar one. It was simply a vagrant expression, +but as it flitted over his face it lacked nothing in the way of +surprised disapproval; I might go farther and say it was malignant--the +kind of look that makes a man feel like reaching for a weapon. At least, +that's the impression it made on me. + +"I might fire that question back at you, Miss Rowan," I replied. "We're +both a long way from the home range. I was here a day or two ago. How +did you manage to keep out of sight--or have you just got in?" + +"Yesterday, only," she returned. "We--you remember old Mammy Thomas, +don't you?--came over from Benton with the Baker freight outfit. I +expect to meet dad here, in a few days." + +Her last sentence froze the words that were all ready to slip off the +end of my tongue, and made my grouch against MacRae crystallize into a +feeling akin to anger. Why couldn't the beggar stand his ground and +deliver the ugly tidings himself? That bunch of cottonwoods with the +new-made grave close by the dead horses seemed to rise up between us, +and I became speechless. I hadn't the nerve to stand there and tell her +she'd never see her father again this side of the pearly gates. Not I. +That was a job for somebody who could put his arms around her and kiss +the tears away from her eyes. Unless I read her wrong, there was only +one man who could make it easier for her if he were by, and he was +walking away as if it were none of his concern. + +Something of this must have shown in my face, for she was beginning to +regard me curiously. I gathered my scattered wits and started to make +some attempt at conversation, but the man with the shoulder-straps +forestalled me. + +"Really, we must go, Miss Rowan, or we shall be late for luncheon," he +drawled. The insolent tone of him was like having one's face slapped, +and it didn't pass over Lyn's head by any means. I thought to myself +that if he had set out to entrench himself in her good graces, he was +taking the poorest of all methods to accomplish that desirable end. + +"Just a moment, major," she said. "Are you going to be here any length +of time, Sarge?" + +"A day or so," I responded shortly. I didn't feel overly cheerful +with all that bad news simmering in my brain-pan, and in addition +I had conceived a full-grown dislike for the "major" and his +I-am-superior-to-you attitude. + +"Then come and see me this afternoon if you can. I'm staying with Mrs. +Stone. Don't forget, now--I have a thousand things I want to talk about. +Good-bye." And she smiled and turned away with the uniformed snob by her +side. + +MacRae had loitered purposely, and I overtook him in a few rods. + +"Well," I blurted out, as near angry as I ever got at MacRae in all the +years I'd known him, "you're a high-headed cuss, confound you! Is it a +part of your new philosophy of life to turn your back on every one that +you ever cared anything for?" + +He shrugged his shoulders tolerantly. "What did you expect of me?" + +"You might have--oh, well, I suppose you'll go your own gait, +regardless," I sputtered. "That's your privilege. But I don't see how +you had the nerve to pass _her_ up that way. Especially since that Stony +Crossing deal." + +Mac took a dozen steps before he answered me. + +"You don't understand the lay of things, Sarge," he said, rather +hesitatingly. "If I have the situation sized up right, Lyn is +practically alone here, and things are going to look pretty black to her +when she learns what has happened. Hank never had anything much to do +with his people. I doubt if Lyn has even a speaking acquaintance with +her nearest kin. She has friends in the South--plenty of them who'd be +more than glad to do as much for her as you or I. But we're a long way +from the Canadian River, now. And so if she has made friends among the +official set here, it's up to me to stand back--until that _cache_ is +found, anyway." + +"Then you're not going to try and see her, and tell her about this thing +yourself?" I asked. + +"I can't," he replied impatiently. "You'll have to do that, Sarge. Hang +it, can't you see where I stand? The mere fact that Lessard was taking +her about shows that these officers' women have received her with open +arms. They form a clique as exclusive as a quarantined smallpox patient, +and a 'non-com' like myself is barred out, until I win a pair of +shoulder-straps; when my rank would make me socially possible. Meantime, +I'm a sergeant, and if Lyn went to picking friends out of the ranks, I'm +not sure they wouldn't drop her like a hot potato. Sounds rotten, but +that's their style; and you've been through the mill at home enough to +know what it is to be knifed socially. It's different with you; you're +an American citizen, a countryman of hers. You understand?" + +"Yes," I answered tartly. "But I don't understand how you can stomach +this sort of existence. What is there in it? Where is the profit or +satisfaction in this kind of thing, for you? Will the man in the ranks +get credit for taming the Northwest when his work is done? Why the devil +don't you quit the job? Cut loose and be a free agent again." + +"It is a temptation, the way things have come up in the last day or +two," he mused. "I'd like to be foot-loose, so I could work it out +without any string attached to me. But there are only two ways I could +get out of the Force, and neither is open. I might desert, which would +be a dirty way to sneak out of a thing I went into deliberately; or, if +they were minded to allow me, I could buy my discharge--and I haven't +the price. Besides, I like the game and I don't know that I want to quit +it. The life isn't so bad. It's your rabidly independent point of view. +A man that can't obey orders is not likely to climb to a position where +he can give them. What the dickens would become of the cow-outfits," he +challenged, "if every stockhand refused to take orders from the foreman +and owners? Do you stand on your dignity when La Pere tells you to do +certain things in a certain way?" + +I shrugged my shoulders. There was just enough truth in his words to +make them hard to confute, and, anyway, I was not in the mood for that +sort of argument. But I was very sure that I would rather be a +forty-dollar-a-month cowpuncher than a sergeant in the Mounted Police. + +"That fellow with her is the big gun here, is he?" I reverted to Lyn and +her affairs. + +"Yes," Mac answered shortly, "that was Lessard." + +By this time we had come to the last cabin in the row. A whitewashed +fence enclosed a diminutive yard, and as we turned in the gate Bat +Perkins appeared in the doorway, both hands thrust deep in his trousers +pockets and a pipe sagging down one corner of his wide mouth. He was +rudely jovial in his greeting, as most of his type were. His wit was +labored, but his welcome was none the less genuine. + +"I seen yuh ride in, Mac," he grinned, "an' I told the old woman t' +turn herself loose on the beefsteak an' spuds, for here comes that +hungry-lookin' jasper from Pend d' Oreille." + +I was duly made acquainted with Bat, and later with his wife, who, if +she did have a trace of Indian blood in her, could certainly qualify as +the patron saint of hungry men. Good cooks were a scarce article on the +frontier then. Bat, I learned, was attached to the Force in a civilian +capacity. + +We ate, smoked a cigarette apiece, and then it was time for us to +"repawt." So we betook ourselves to the seat of the mighty, to unload +our troubles on the men who directed the destinies of the turbulent +Northwest and see what they could do toward alleviating them. + +This time the orderly passed us in without delay, and once more we faced +the man of rank, who, after taking our measure with a deliberate stare, +ordered MacRae to state his business. + +As Mac related the unvarnished tale of the banked fire in the canyon, +the hold-up, and the double murder, a slight sound caused me to turn my +head, and I saw in a doorway that led to another room the erect figure +of Major Lessard listening intently, a black frown on his eagle face. +When MacRae had finished his story and the incapable blockhead behind +the desk sat there regarding the two of us as though he considered that +we had been the victims of a rank hallucination, Lessard slammed the +door shut behind him and strode into the room. + +"I'll take charge of this, Captain Dobson," he brusquely informed the +red-faced numskull. + +Taking his stand at the end of the desk, he made MacRae reiterate in +detail the grim happenings of that night. That over, he quizzed me for a +few minutes. Then he turned loose on MacRae with a battery of questions. +Could he give a description of the men? Would he be able to identify +them? Why did he not exercise more precaution when investigating +anything so suspicious as a concealed fire? Why this, why that? Why +didn't he send a trooper to report at once instead of wasting time in +going to Stony Crossing? And a dozen more. + +With every word his thin-lipped mouth drew into harder lines, and the +cold, domineering tone, weighted heavy with sneering emphasis, grated on +me till I wanted to reach over and slap his handsome, smooth-shaven +face. But MacRae stood at "attention" and took his medicine dumbly. He +had to. He was in the presence, and answering the catechism, of a +superior officer, and his superior officer by virtue of a commission +from the Canadian government could insult his manhood and lash him +unmercifully with a viperish tongue, and if he dared to resent it by +word or deed there was the guardhouse and the shame of irons--for +discipline must be maintained at any cost! I thanked the star of destiny +then and there that no Mounted Police officer had a string attached to +me, by which he could force me to speak or be silent at his will. It was +a dirty piece of business on Lessard's part. Even Dobson eyed him +wonderingly. + +"Why, damn it!" Lessard finally burst out, "you've handled this like a +green one, fresh from over the water. You are held up; this man is +robbed of ten thousand dollars; another man is murdered under your very +nose--and then you waste thirty-six hours blundering around the country +to satisfy your infernal curiosity. It's incredible, in a man of your +frontier experience, under any hypothesis except that you stood in with +the outlaws and held back to assure their escape!" + +At first MacRae had looked puzzled, at a loss. Then under the lash of +Lessard's bitter tongue the dull red stole up into his weather-browned +cheeks, glowed there an instant and receded, leaving his face white +under the tan. His left hand was at its old, familiar trick--fingers +shut tight over the thumb till the cords stood tense between the +knuckles and wrist--a never-failing sign that internally he was close to +the boiling-point, no matter how calm he appeared on the surface. And +when Lessard flung out that last unthinkable accusation, the explosion +came. + +"You lie, you----!" MacRae spoke in a cold impersonal tone, and only the +flat strained note betrayed his feeling; but the term applied to Lessard +was one to make a man's ears burn; it was the range-riders' gauntlet +thrown squarely in an enemy's face. "You lie when you say that, and you +know you lie. I don't know your object, but I call your bluff--you--you +blasted insect!" + +Lessard, if he had been blind till then, saw what was patent to me--that +he had gone a bit too far, that the man he had baited so savagely was +primed to kill him if he made a crooked move. MacRae leaned forward, his +gray eyes twin coals, the thumb of his right hand hooked suggestively in +the cartridge-belt, close by the protruding handle of his six-shooter. +They were a well-matched pair; iron-nerved, both of them, the sort of +men to face sudden death open-eyed and unafraid. + +A full minute they glared at each other across the desk corner. Then +Lessard, without moving a muscle or altering his steady gaze, spoke to +Dobson. + +"Call the orderly," he said quietly. + +Dobson, mouth agape, struck a little bell on the desk and the orderly +stepped in from the outer room. + +"Orderly, disarm Sergeant MacRae." + +Lessard uttered the command evenly, without a jarring note, his tone +almost a duplicate of MacRae's. He was a good judge of men, that +eagle-faced major; he knew that the slightest move with hostile intent +would mean a smoking gun. MacRae would have shot him dead in his tracks +if he'd tried to reach a weapon. But a man who is really game--which no +one who knew him could deny MacRae--won't, _can't_ shoot down another +unless that other shows _fight_; and a knowledge of that gun-fighters' +trait saved Major Lessard's hide from being thoroughly punctured that +day. + +The orderly, a rather shaky orderly if the truth be told (I think he +must have listened through the keyhole!) stepped up to Mac. + +"Give me your side-arms, sergeant," he said, nervously. + +MacRae looked from one to the other, and for a breath I was as nervous +as the trooper. It was touch and go, just then, and if he'd gone the +wrong way it's altogether likely that I'd have felt called upon to back +his play, and there would have been a horrible mix-up in that two by +four room. But he didn't. Just smiled, a sardonic sort of grimace, and +unbuckled his belt and handed it over without a word. He'd begun to +cool. + +"Reduced to the ranks--thirty days in irons--solitary confinement!" +Lessard snapped the words out with a wolfish satisfaction. + +"Keep a close mouth, Sarge," MacRae spoke in Spanish with his eyes bent +on the floor, "and don't quit the country till I get out." Then he +turned at the orderly's command and marched out of the room. + +When I again turned to Lessard he still stood at the end of the desk, +industriously paring his fingernails. An amused smile wrinkled the +corners of his mouth. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +LYN. + + +Whereas Lessard had acted the martinet with MacRae, he took another tack +and became the very essence of affability toward me. (I'd have enjoyed +punching his proud head, for all that; it was a dirty way to serve a man +who had done his level best.) + +"Rather unfortunate happening for you, Flood," he began. "I think, +however, that we shall eventually get your money back." + +"I hope so," I replied coolly. "But I must say that it begins to look +like a big undertaking." + +"Well, yes; it is," he observed. "Still, we have a pretty thorough +system of keeping track of things like that. This is a big country, but +you can count on the fingers of one hand the places where a man can +spend money. Of course, you probably realize the difficulty of laying +hands on men who know they are wanted, and act accordingly. We can't +arrest on a description, because you wouldn't know the men if you saw +them. Our only chance is to be on the lookout for free spenders. It's a +certainty that they will be captured if they spend that money at any +trading-post within our jurisdiction. I'll find out if the quartermaster +knows the numbers and denomination of the bills. On the other hand, if +they go south, cross the line, you know, we won't get much of a show at +them. But we'll have to take chances on that." + +"I've done all I can do in that direction," I said. "I've sent word to +La Pere." + +"You had better stay hereabout for a while," he decided. "You can put up +at one of the troop-messes for a few days. I'll send a despatch to Whoop +Up and MacLeod, and we'll see what turns up. Also I think I shall send a +detail to bring in those bodies. The identification must be made +complete. No doubt it will be a trial for Miss Rowan, but I think she +would feel better to have her father buried here. By the way, you knew +the Rowans in the States, I believe." + +"Was trail-boss three seasons for Hank Rowan and his partner," I +returned briefly. I didn't much like his offhand way of asking; not that +it wasn't a perfectly legitimate query. But I couldn't get rid of the +notion that he would hand me out the same dose he had given MacRae if +only he had the power. + +"Ah," he remarked. "Then perhaps you would like to go out and help bring +in those bodies. It will save taking the Pend d' Oreille riders from +their regular patrol, and we are having considerable trouble with +whisky-runners these days." + +I agreed to go, and that terminated the conversation. I didn't mind +going; in fact some sort of action appealed to me just then. I had no +idea of going back to Benton right away, and sitting around Fort Walsh +waiting for something to turn up was not my taste. It never struck me +till I was outside the office that Lessard had passed up the gold +episode altogether; he hadn't said whether he would send any one to +prognosticate around Writing-Stone or not. I wondered if he took any +stock in Rutter's story, or thought it merely one of the queer turns a +man's brain will sometimes take when he is dying. It had sounded +off-color to me, at first; but I knew old Hans pretty well, and he +always seemed to me a hard-headed, matter of fact sort of man, not at +all the flighty kind of pilgrim that gets mixed in his mental processes +when things go wrong. Besides, if there wasn't some powerful incentive, +why that double killing, to say nothing of the incredible devilishness +that accompanied it. + +Once out of the official atmosphere, I hesitated over my next move. +Lessard's high-handed squelching of MacRae had thrown everything out of +focus. We'd planned to report at headquarters, see Lyn, if she were at +Walsh, and then with Pend d' Oreille as a base of operations go on a +still hunt for whatever the Writing-Stone might conceal. That scheme was +knocked galley-west and crooked, for even when MacRae's term expired +he'd get a long period of duty at the Fort; he'd lost his rank, and as a +private his coming and going would be according to barrack-rule instead +of the freedom allowed a sergeant in charge of an outpost like Pend +d' Oreille--I knew that much of the Mounted Police style of doing +business. And so far as my tackling single-handed a search for Hank +Rowan's _cache_--well, I decided to see Lyn before I took that +contract. + +I hated that, too. It always went against my grain to be a bearer of ill +tidings. I hate to make a woman cry, especially one I like. Some one had +to tell her, though, and, much as I disliked the mission, I felt that I +ought not to hang back and let some stranger blurt it out. So I nailed +the first trooper I saw, and had him show me the domicile of Mrs. +Stone--who, I learned, was the wife of Lessard's favorite captain--and +thither I rambled, wishing mightily for a good stiff jolt out of the keg +that Piegan Smith and Mac had clashed over. But if there was any bottled +nerve-restorer around Fort Walsh it was tucked away in the officers' +cellars, and not for the benefit of the common herd; so I had to fall +back on a cigarette. + +Lyn was sitting out in front when I reached the place. Another female +person, whom I put down as Madam Stone, arose and disappeared through +an open door at my approach. Lyn motioned me to a camp-stool close by. I +sat down, and immediately my tongue became petrified. My think-machinery +was running at a dizzy speed, but words--if silence is truly golden, I +was the richest man in Fort Walsh that afternoon, for a few minutes, at +least. And when my vocal organs did at last consent to fulfil their +natural office, they refused to deliver anything but empty commonplaces, +the kind one's tongue carries in stock for occasional moments of barren +speech. These oral inanities only served to make Lyn give me the benefit +of a look of amused wonder. + +"Dear me," she laughed at last. "I wonder what weighty matter is +crushing you to the earth. If you've got anything on your conscience, +Sarge, for goodness' sake confess. I'll give you absolution, if you +like, and then perhaps you'll be a little more cheerful." + +"No, there's nothing particular weighing me down," I lied flatly. +"Anyway, I don't aim to unload my personal troubles on you. I came over +here to acquire a little information. How came you away up here by your +lonesome, and what brought your father and old Hans----" + +Her purple-shaded eyes widened, each one a question-mark. + +"Who told you that Hans was up North? I know I didn't mention him," she +cut in quickly. "Have you seen them?" + +It's a wonder my face didn't betray the fact that I was holding +something back. I know I must have looked guilty for a second. That was +a question I would gladly have passed up, but her eyes demanded an +answer. + +"Well," I protested, "it occurred to me that if you expected to meet +your father here in a day or two, Rutter would naturally be with him, +seeing that they've paddled in the same canoe since a good many years +before you were born, my lady. What jarred you all loose from Texas? And +what the mischief did you do to MacRae that he quit the South next +spring after I did, and straightway went to soldiering in this +country?" + +She shied away from that query, just as I expected. "We had oceans of +trouble after you left there, Sarge," she told me, turning her head from +me so that her gaze wandered over the barrack-square. "It really doesn't +make pleasant telling, but you'll understand better than some one that +didn't know the country. You remember Dick Feltz, and that old trouble +about the Conway brand that dad bought a long time back?" + +I nodded; I remembered Mr. Feltz very well indeed, for the well-merited +killing of one of his hired assassins was the main cause of my hasty +departure from Texas. + +"Well, it came to a head, one day, in Fort Worth. They shot each other +up terribly, and a week or so later Feltz died. His people in the East +got it into their heads that it was a case of murder. They stirred up +the county authorities till every one was taking sides. Of course, dad +was cleared; but that seemed to be the beginning of a steady run of bad +luck. The trial cost an awful lot of money, and made enemies, too. Feltz +had plenty of friends of his own calibre--you know that to your sorrow, +don't you, Sarge?--and they started trouble on the range. It was simply +terrible for a while. Dad can supply the details when he comes." ("when +he comes"--I tell you, that jarred me.) "Finally things got to such a +pass that dad had to quit. And what with a deal in some Mexican cattle +that didn't turn out well, and some other business troubles that I never +quite understood, we were just about finished when we closed out." + +She let her eyes meet mine for an instant, and they were smiling, making +light of it all. Most women, I thought, would have had a good cry, or at +least pulled a long face, over a hard-luck story like that. But she was +really more of a woman than I had thought her, and I thanked the Lord +she was game when I remembered what I had to tell her before I was +through. + +"Dad and Hans Rutter, as you know, weren't the sort of men to sit around +and mourn over anything like that," she laughed. "I don't know where +they got the idea of going to Peace River. But dad settled me and Mammy +Thomas in a little cottage in Austin, and they started. I wanted to go +along, but dad wouldn't hear of it. They've been gone a little over two +years. I'd get word from them about every three months, and early this +spring dad wrote that they had made a good stake and were coming home. +He said I could come as far as Benton to meet them, and we would take +the boat from there down to St. Louis. So I looked up the lay of the +country, and sent him word I would come as far as Walsh. He had said +they would come out by way of this place. And then I rounded up Mammy +Thomas and struck out. I've rather enjoyed the trip, too. They should be +here any day, now." + +My conscience importuned me to tell her bluntly that they would only +come into Walsh feet first. But I dodged the unpleasant opening. There +was another matter I wanted to touch upon first. + +"Look here, Lyn," I said--rather dubiously, it must be confessed, for I +didn't know how she would take it, "I'm going to tell you something on +my own responsibility, and you mustn't get the idea that I'm trying to +mix into your personal affairs without a warrant. But I have a hunch +that you're laboring under a mistaken impression, right now; that is, if +you care anything about an old friend like MacRae." + +"I can't really say that I do, though," she assured me quickly, but she +colored in a way that convinced me that her feeling toward MacRae was of +the sort she would never admit to any one but himself. + +"Well," I continued, "I imagined you would think it queer that he should +pass you up as he did a while ago. But here at Fort Walsh we're among a +class of people that are a heap different from Texas cow-punchers. These +redcoats move along social lines that don't look like much to a cowman; +but once in the Force you must abide by them. It was consideration for +you that forbade MacRae to stop. Any woman in the company of an officer +is taboo to an enlisted man, according----" + +"I know all that," she interrupted impatiently. "Probably they'd cut me, +and all that sort of thing. I understand their point of view, exactly, +but I'm not here to play the social game, and I shall talk to whom it +pleases me. Do you or Gordon MacRae honestly believe I care a snap for +their petty conventions?" + +"No, I know you better than that," I responded. "All the same, this is a +pretty rough country for a woman, and if you've made friends among the +people on top, they may come in handy. For that matter," I concluded, +"you won't get a chance to have the cold shoulder turned to you for +associating with MacRae; not for some time, anyway." + +"What do you mean?" she demanded, in that answer-me-at-once way I knew +of old. + +"MacRae has gotten into a bad hole," I told her plainly. "Major Lessard, +who happens to be the big chief in this neck of the woods, seems to have +developed a sudden grouch against him. There was a hold-up night before +last--in fact, I was the victim. I was separated from a big bunch of +money that belongs to the outfit I'm working for. Mac was with me at the +time. He had to come in here and report it, for it happened in his +district, and the major raked him over the coals in a way that was hard +to stand. You know MacRae, Lyn; it's mighty poor business for any man to +tread on his toes, much less go walking rough-shod all over him. Lessard +went the length of accusing him of being in with these hold-up men, +because he did a little investigating on his own account before coming +in to report. Mac took that pretty hard, and came mighty near making the +major eat his words with gunpowder sauce on the side. So, for having the +nerve to declare himself, he has lost his sergeant's stripes and has +likewise gone to the guardhouse to meditate over the foolishness of +taking issue with his superiors. If you don't see him for the next +thirty days, you'll have the consolation of knowing that he isn't +avoiding you purposely." + +It was a rather flippant way to talk, but it was the best I could do +under the circumstances. The last three days hadn't been exactly +favorable to a normal state of mind, or well-considered speech. + +But--who was the wise mortal that said: "No man knoweth the mind of a +maid"?--she sat there quite unmoved, her hands resting quietly in her +lap. "We all seem to be more or less under a cloud, Sarge," she said +slowly. "Maybe when dad comes he can furnish a silver lining for it. I +sometimes--what makes you look that way? You look as if you were +thinking it my fault that Gordon is in trouble." + +"You're wrong there," I protested, truthfully enough. + +"But you have that air," she declared. "And I'm not to blame. If he +hadn't been so--so--I'm sure he'd get out of the Mounted Police fast +enough if he didn't like it. I can't imagine him doing anything against +his will. I never knew him"--with a faint smile--"to stay anywhere or do +anything that didn't suit him." She took to staring out across the +grounds again, and one hand drew up slowly till it was doubled into a +tight-shut little fist. + +"Well, he's in that very fix right now. And he's likely to continue so, +unless some one buys his release from the service and makes him a +present of it. You might play the good angel," I suggested, half in +earnest. "It only costs about five hundred dollars"--Mac had told me +that--"and I'm sure he'd be properly grateful." + +The red flag waved in her cheeks again. "I don't particularly like the +idea," she said, rather crossly, still keeping her face turned away from +me, "and I'm very sure he wouldn't care to have me. But dad thinks a lot +of him; he might do something of the kind when he gets here. Dear, I +wish they'd hurry along." + +She had me at the end of my rope at last, and I felt like breaking away +right there; any one not utterly calloused would, I think, have felt the +same squeamishness with that sort of a tale crowding close. If she had +been expecting bad news of any kind it wouldn't have been so hard to go +on; but I couldn't beat about the bush any longer, so I made the plunge +with what grace I could. + +"Lyn, I've got something to tell you about your father and old Hans, and +I'm afraid it's going to hurt," I prefaced gently, and went on before +she could interrupt. "The fellows who held MacRae and me up had someway +got wind of the gold they were packing out. They tried to get it. So far +as I know, they haven't succeeded yet. Rutter tried to tell us where it +was _cached_. There was a fight over it, you see, and he was shot. Mac +and I came across him--but not soon enough." I stopped and got out +cigarette material in an absent sort of way. My lips, I remember, were +almighty dry just then. + +"And dad?" Lyn was looking at me intently, and her voice was steady; +that squeezed kind of steadiness that is almost worse than tears. + +"He wasn't with Rutter." I drew a long breath and hurried on, slurring +over the worst of it. "They had got separated. Hans was about done when +we found him--he died in a few minutes--but he told us where to go. Then +we went to look for your father. We found him; too late to do any good. +We buried him--both of them--and came on here." + +I felt like a beast, as if I had struck her with my fist, but at any +rate, it was all told; all that she need ever know. I sat still and +watched her, wondering nervously what she would do. + +It was a strain to sit there silent, for Lyn neither did or said +anything at first. Perhaps she cried afterward, when she got by herself, +but not then; just looked at me, through me, almost, her face white and +drawn into pained lines, and those purple-blue eyes perfectly black. I +got up at last, and put one hand on her shoulder. + +"It's hell, little girl, I know." I said this hardly realizing that I +swore. "We can't bring the old man back to life, but we can surely run +down the cold-blooded devils that killed him. I have a crow to pick with +them myself; but that doesn't matter; I'd be in the game anyway. We'll +get them somehow, when Mac gets out and can play his hand again. It was +finding your father and giving him decent burial that kept us out so +long. I don't understand, yet, why Lessard should pitch into MacRae so +hard for doing that much. You know Mac, Lyn, and you know me--we'll do +what we can." + +She didn't move for a minute, and the shocked, stricken look in her eyes +grew more intense. Then she dropped her head in the palms of her hands +with a little sobbing cry. "Sarge, I--I wish you'd go, now," she +whispered. "I want to--to be all by myself, for a while. I'll be all +right by and by." + +I stood irresolute for a second. It may have been my fancy, but I seemed +to hear her whisper, "Oh, Gordon, Gordon!" Then I hesitated no longer, +but turned away and left her alone with her grief; it was not for me to +comfort her. And when I had walked a hundred yards or more, I looked +back. She was still sitting as I had left her, head bowed on her hands, +and the afternoon sun playing hide-and-seek in the heavy coils of her +tawny-gold hair. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +AN IDLE AFTERNOON. + + +For the next hour or two I poked aimlessly around the post buildings, +chafing at the forced inaction and wondering what I would better do +after I'd gone with the squad of redcoats to those graves and helped +bring the bodies in. Even if I had a pack-horse and a grub-stake, it +would be on a par with chasing a rainbow for me to start on a lone hunt +for Hank Rowan's _cache_. I didn't know the Writing-Stone country, and a +man had no business wandering up and down those somber ridges alone, +away from the big freight-trails, unless he was anxious to be among the +"reported missing"--which he sure would be if a bunch of non-treaty +Indians ever got within gunshot of him. I damned Major Lessard earnestly +for what I considered his injustice to MacRae, and wondered if he would +send his troopers out to look for that hypothetical gold-dust. I didn't +see how he could avoid making a bluff at doing so, even if he secretly +classed Rutter's story as a fairy-tale, and I promised myself to find +out what he was going to do before I started in the morning. + +While I was sitting with my back against the shaded wall of troop G's +barrack, turning this over in my mind, a Policeman with the insignia of +a sergeant on his sleeve came sauntering leisurely by. He took me in +with an appraising glance, and stopped. + +"How d'ye do," he greeted, with a friendly nod. "You're the man that +came in with MacRae, aren't you?" + +I laconically admitted that I was. + +"The k. o. has detailed me to bring in the bodies of the two men who +were killed," he informed me. "He said that you were going along, and so +I thought I'd hunt you up and tell you that we'll start about seven in +the morning." + +"I'll be ready," I assured him. + +"Come on over to the bull-pen," he invited cordially. "Sorry we haven't +a canteen in connection, but it's more comfortable over there. Good +place to lop about, y' know; a decent place to sit, and a few books and +cards and that sort of thing. Come along." + +I rather liked the man's style, and as he seemed to be really anxious to +make things pleasant for me, I shuffled off the pessimistic mood I was +drifting into, and fell in with his proposal. The "bull-pen" proved to +be a combination reading and lounging-room for the troopers not on duty. +My self-appointed host, whose name was Goodell, waved me to a chair, and +took one opposite. With his feet cocked up on a window-sill, and a +cigarette going, he leaned back in his chair, and our conversation +slackened so that I had a chance to observe my surroundings. It was a +big place, probably fifty feet by a hundred, and quite a number of +redcoats were sprinkled about, some reading, some writing letters, and +two or three groups playing cards. None of them paid any attention to +me, beyond an occasional disinterested glance, until my roving eyes +reached a point directly behind me. Then I became aware that one of a +bunch of four poker-players a few feet distant was regarding me with an +expression that puzzled me. I had turned my head rather quickly and +caught him staring straight at me. It was an odd look, sort of amused, +and speculative; at least, that was the way I read it. Twice in the next +ten minutes I glanced around quickly and caught him sizing me up, as it +were; and then I hitched my chair sidewise, and deliberately began +studying the gentleman to see if I could discover the source of his +interest in me. + +I failed in that, but I stopped his confounded quizzical stare. He +wasn't the style of man that I'd care to stir up trouble with, judging +from his size and the shape of his head. He was about my height, but +half as broad again across the shoulders, and his thick, heavy-boned +wrists showed hairy as an ape's when he stretched his arms to deal the +cards. Aside from his physical proportions, there was nothing about the +man to set him apart from his fellows. Half a dozen men in that room had +the same shade of hair and mustache, and the same ordinary blue eyes. I +turned back to the window again, thinking that I was getting nervous as +an old maid, to let a curious look from a stranger stir me like that. + +In a few minutes the trooper opposite my friend of the poker-game drew +out, and one of the players called loudly on Goodell to take his place. +Goodell lighted another cigarette and nonchalantly seated himself in the +vacant chair. Then I observed for the first time that the game was for +blood rather than pastime, for Goodell paid for his little pile of white +beans in good, gold coin of the realm. Next to playing a little "draw" +myself, I like to watch the game, and so I moved over where I could see +the bets made and the hands exhibited. And there I stuck till "stables" +sounded, watching the affable sergeant outgeneral his opponents, and +noting with some amusement the sulky look that grew more intensified on +the heavy face of Hicks (as they called the man who had favored me with +that peculiar stare) when Goodell finessed him out of two or three +generous-sized pots. + +On my way to attend to my horse, Bat Perkins overtook me. + +"Say, old-timer, is it right about Mac losing his stripes and getting +thirty days in the cooler?" he asked in lowered tone. + +"It sure is," I answered emphatically. + +"What in thunder for?" he inquired resentfully. And because I was aching +to express my candid opinion of Major Lessard and all his works to some +one who would understand my point of view, I told Bat all about +it--omitting any mention of the gold-dust. Only four men, Dobson the +fathead, Lessard, MacRae and myself, knew what little was known of that, +and I felt that I had no license to spread the knowledge further. + +"Oh, they sure do hand it to a man if he makes the least break," Bat +sympathized. "Mac's one uh the best men they've got in the Force, an' +they know it, too. Darned if that don't sound queer t' me; what else +could he do? But Lessard's a overbearin' son-of-a-gun all round, and +he's always breakin' out in a new place. Say, you might as well come +over an' stay with me while you're round here. I don't reckon you'll +enjoy herdin' with these rough-necks." + +Bat's offer was not one to be overlooked by a man in my circumstances, +so after supper found me sitting in his kitchen making gloomy forecasts +of the future, between cigarettes. Shortly before the moon-faced clock +nailed on the wall struck the hour of nine with a great internal +whirring, some one tapped lightly on the door. Bat himself answered the +knock. His body shut off sight of whoever stood outside. I could just +catch the murmur of a subdued voice. After a few seconds of listening +Bat nodded vigorously, and closed the door. He came back to his chair +grinning pleasantly, and handed me a little package. I tore it open and +found, wrapped tightly about three twenty-dollar gold pieces, an +unsigned note from MacRae. It ran: + + "Get after Lessard and see if he won't send an escort with you to + Writing-Stone. If he does, and you find anything, I needn't warn + you to be careful. I don't think he believed our yarn, at all. If + he refuses to act, stay here till I get out. This money will hold + you for a while. It's all I could rustle. If you need more, maybe + Bat can stake you--he will if he can." + +That was all. Not a word about Lyn. The stiff-necked devil! + +"You know what this is, don't you?" I said to Bat. "How the dickens did +he manage it?" + +Bat's grin became even more expansive. "There ain't a buck trooper on +the job," he replied, "that wouldn't help Mac if he got half a show; +he's a white man. It's easy for a prisoner t' slip a note to a friend +that happens t' be mountin' guard. He sent it t' me because I'd be apt +t' know where yuh was. _Sabe?_" + +I did. Mac's suggestion was right in line with my own idea. Lessard +could scarcely refuse to do that much, I thought; and it would be rather +unhealthy for those prairie pirates to match themselves against a bunch +of Mounted Policemen who were on their guard--provided we found anything +that was worth fighting over. + +A little later Bat spread a bed for me on the kitchen floor, and I +turned in. But my sleep resolved itself into a series of cat-naps. When +the first sunbeam gleamed through the window of Bat's tiny kitchen, I +arose, pulled on my boots and went to feed my horse. And when we had +eaten breakfast I headed straight for Lessard's private quarters. I +expected he would object to talking business out of business hours, but +I didn't care; I wanted to know what he was going to do, before I +started on that three-day trip. Fortunately Lessard was an early bird, +like myself. I met him striding toward the building that seemed to be a +clearing house for the official contingent. + +"Good-morning, major," I said, mustering up a semblance of heartiness +that was far from being the genuine article--I didn't like the man and +it galled me to ask anything of him. "I want to ask you something before +I leave. Have you talked this affair over with Miss Rowan?" + +"Yes. Why?" He was maddeningly curt, but I pocketed my feelings and +persisted. + +"Then you must know beyond a doubt that there was some truth in +Rutter's story," I declared. "Hank Rowan was my friend. I'd go out of my +way any time to help his daughter. Will you send four or five of your +men with me to the Writing-Stone to look for that stuff?" I asked him +point-blank. + +He looked me up and down curiously, and did not answer for a minute. +"How do you know where to look?" he suddenly demanded. "Writing-Stone +ridge is ten miles long. What chance would you have of finding anything +in a territory of that extent?" His cold eyes rested on me in a +disagreeable way. "I thought Rutter died before giving you the exact +location." + +As a matter of fact, MacRae, in detailing the lurid happenings of that +night, did not repeat the words Rutter had gasped out with his last +breath. He simply said that Hans died after telling us that they had +been attacked, and that the gold was hidden at Writing-Stone. And +Lessard, as I said before, had passed up the gold episode at the time; +all his concern seemed to be for the robbers' apprehension, which was +natural enough since a crime had undoubtedly been committed and he bore +the responsibility of catching and punishing the perpetrators. The +restoration of stolen goods was probably dwarfed in his mind by the +importance of capturing the stealers. + +I was vastly interested in that phase of it, too, for I realized that a +speedy gathering in of those men of the mask was my only chance to lay +hold of La Pere's ten thousand; and I had a theory that they were hardly +the sort to be content with that sum, and that Hank Rowan's _cached_ +gold would be an excellent bait for them, if it could be uncovered. +Those steadily reiterated phrases, "raw gold--on the rock" might have +some understandable meaning if one were on the spot, but MacRae had kept +that to himself--and I wasn't running a bureau of information for +Lessard's benefit. The Canadian government might trust him, but I +wouldn't--not if he took oath on a stack of Bibles, and gave a cast-iron +bond to play fair. I couldn't give any sound reason for feeling that +way, beyond the shabby treatment he'd given MacRae. But somehow the +man's personality grated on me. Lessard was of the type, rare enough, +that can't be overlooked if one comes in contact with it; a big, +dominant, magnetic brute type that rouses either admiration or +resentment in other ordinary mortals; the kind of a man that women +become fascinated with, and other men invariably hate--and sometimes +fear. I didn't stop to analyze my feeling toward him, just then; but I +had the impulse to keep what little I knew to myself, and I obeyed the +promptings of the sixth sense. + +"He did," I answered. "But we can take a chance. Send men that know the +country. Lyn Rowan's kinfolk are few and far between, now; that gold +means a good deal to her, in her present circumstances." + +"H--m-m." He mused a few seconds. Then: "If I think there's any +possibility of finding it--well, I'll see what can be done, after those +bodies are brought in. You, I suppose, are ready to start?" + +I nodded. + +"Sergeant Goodell is in charge of the detail. You'll probably find him +about to go. That's all." + +It was like being dismissed from parade; a right-about-face, march! +command straight from the shoulder. Again I was overwhelmed with +thankfulness that the N. W. M. P. had no string on me; I never took +orders from anybody in that tone of voice, and I wanted to shake a +defiant fist under the autocratic major's nose and tell him so. I had +sense enough to see that the time and place was unpropitious for +starting an argument of that sort, so I kept an unperturbed front and +went about my business. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE VANISHING ACT, AND THE FRUITS THEREOF. + + +Being aware that it was near the time Goodell had named for starting, I +returned to the stables, and, getting my horse, rode to the commissary. +There I found Goodell engineering the final preparations. Four men, +besides myself, made up the party: the sergeant, Hicks the +hairy-wristed, another private, and a half-breed scout. They were +lashing an allowance of food and blankets on a pack-horse, and two other +horses with bare _aparejos_ on their backs were tied to the horn of the +breed's saddle--for what purpose I could easily guess. + +While I sat on my _caballo_ waiting for them to tie the last hitch a +rattle of wheels and the thud of hoofs drew near, and presently a blue +wagon, drawn by four big mules and flanked by half a dozen Mounted +Policemen, passed by the commissary building. The little cavalcade +struck a swinging trot as it cleared the barracks, swung down into the +bed of Battle Creek, up the farther bank, and away to the west. And a +little later we, too, left the post, following in the dusty wake of the +paymaster's wagon and its mounted escort. + +For ten or twelve miles we kept to the MacLeod trail at an easy pace, +never more than a mile behind the "transient treasury," as Goodell +facetiously termed it. He was a pretty bright sort, that same Goodell, +quick-witted, nimble of tongue above the average Englishman. I don't +know that he was English; for that matter, none of the three carried the +stamp of his nationality on his face or in his speech. They were men of +white blood, but they might have been English, Irish, Scotch or Dutch +for all I could tell to the contrary. But each of them was broke to the +frontier; that showed in the way they sat their horses, the way they +bore themselves toward one another when clear of the post and its +atmosphere of rigidly enforced discipline. The breed I didn't take much +notice of at the time, except that when he spoke, which was seldom, he +was given to using better language than lots of white men I have known. + +At a point where the trail seemed to bear north a few degrees, Goodell +angled away from the beaten track and headed straight across country for +Pend d' Oreille. At noon we camped, and cooked a bite of dinner while +the horses grazed; ate it, and went on again. + +About three o'clock, as nearly as I could tell, we dipped into a wooded +creek bottom some two hundred yards in width. The creek itself went +brawling along in a deep-worn channel, and when my horse got knee deep +in the water he promptly stopped and plunged his muzzle into the stream. +I gave him slack rein, and let him drink his fill. The others kept on, +climbed the short, steep bank, and passed from sight over its rim. I +swung down from my horse on the brink of the creek, cinched the saddle +afresh, and rolled a cigarette. If I thought about them getting the +start of me at all, it was to reflect that they couldn't get a lead of +more than two or three hundred yards, at the gait they traveled. Judge +then of my surprise when I rode up out of the water-washed gully and +found them nowhere in sight. I pulled up and glanced about, but the +clumps of scrubby timber were just plentiful enough to cut off a clear +view of the flat. So I fell back on the simple methods of the plainsman +and Indian and jogged along on their trail. + +Not for many days did I learn truly how I came to miss them, how and why +they had vanished from the face of the earth so completely in the few +minutes I lingered in the gulch. The print of steel-rimmed hoofs showed +in the soft loam as plainly as a moccasin-track in virgin snow. Around a +grove of quaking-aspens, eternally shivering in the deadest of calms, +their trail led through the long grass that carpeted the bottom, and +suddenly ended in a strip of gravelly land that ran out from the bed of +the creek. I could follow it no farther. If there was other mark of +their passing, it was hidden from me. + +Wondering, and a bit exasperated, I spurred straight up the bank, and +when I had reached the high benchland loped to a point that overlooked +the little valley a full mile up and down. Cottonwood and willow, +cut-bank and crooning water, lay green and brown and silver-white +before, but no riders, no thing that moved in the shape of men came +within the scope of my eyes. But I wasn't done yet. I turned away from +the bank and raced up a long slope to a saw-backed ridge that promised +largely of unobstructed view. Dirty gray lather stood out in spumy rolls +around the edge of the saddle-blanket, and the wet flanks of my horse +heaved like the shoulders of a sobbing woman when I checked him on top +of a bald sandstone peak--and though as much of the Northwest as one +man's eye may hope to cover lay bared on every hand, yet the quartet +that rode with me from Fort Walsh occupied no part of the landscape. I +could look away to the horizon in every direction, and, except for one +little herd of buffalo feeding peacefully on the westward slant of the +ridge, I could see nothing but rolling prairie, a vast undulating spread +of grassland threaded here and there with darker lines that stood for +creeks and coulées, and off to the north the blue bulk of the Cypress +Hills. + +I got off and sat me down upon a rock, rolled another cigarette, and +waited. The way to Pend d' Oreille led over the ridge, a half mile on +either side of me, as the spirit moved a traveler who followed an +approximately straight line. Whatever road they had taken, they could +not be more than three or four miles from that sentinel peak--for there +is a well-defined limit to the distance a mounted man may cover in a +given length of time. And from my roost I could note the passing of +anything bigger than a buffalo yearling, within a radius of at least six +miles. Therefore, I smoked my cigarette without misgiving, and kept +close watch for bobbing black dots against the far-flung green. + +I might as well have laid down and gone to sleep on that pinnacle for +all the good my waiting and eye-straining did me. One hour slipped by +and then another, and still I did not abandon hope of their appearance. +Naturally, I argued with myself, they would turn back when I failed to +overtake them--especially if they had thoughtlessly followed some +depression in the prairie where I could not easily see them. And while I +lingered, loath to believe that they were hammering unconcernedly on +their way, the sun slid down its path in the western sky--slid down till +its lower edge rested on the rim of the world and long black shadows +began to creep mysteriously out of the low places, while buttes and +ridges gleamed with cloth of gold, the benediction of a dying day. Only +then did I own that by hook or by crook--and mostly by crook, I was +forced to suspect--they had purposely given me the slip. + +A seasoned cowpuncher hates to admit that any man, or bunch of men, can +take him out into an open country and shake him off whenever it is +desired; but if I had been a rank tenderfoot they couldn't have jarred +me loose with greater ease. It was smooth work, and I couldn't guess the +object, unless it was a Mounted Policeman's idea of an excellent +practical joke on a supposedly capable citizen from over the line. +Anyway, they had left me holding the sack in a mighty poor snipe +country. Dark was close at hand, and I was a long way from shelter. So +when the creeping shadows blanketed pinnacle and lowland alike, and all +that remained of the sun was the flamboyant crimson-yellow on the +gathering clouds, I was astride of my dun _caballo_ and heading for Pend +d' Oreille. + +But speedily another unforeseen complication arose. Before I'd gone five +miles the hoodoo that had been working overtime on my behalf got busy +again. The clouds that were rolling up from the east at sundown piled +thick and black overhead, and when dark was fairly upon me I was, for +all practical purposes, like a blind man in an unfamiliar room. It +didn't take me long to comprehend that I was merely wasting the strength +of my horse in bootless wandering; with moonlight I could have made it, +but in that murk I could not hope to find the post. So I had no choice +but to make camp in the first coulée that offered, and an exceeding lean +camp I found it--no grub, no fire, no rest, for though I hobbled my +horse I didn't dare let his rope out of my hands. + +About midnight the combination of sultry heat and banked clouds produced +the usual results. Lightning first, lightning that ripped the sky open +from top to bottom in great blazing slits, and thunder that cracked and +boomed and rumbled in sharps and flats and naturals till a man could +scarcely hear himself think; then rain in flat chunks, as if some +malignant agency had yanked the bottom out of the sky and let the +accumulated moisture of centuries drop on that particular portion of the +Northwest. In fifteen minutes the only dry part of me was the crown of +my head--thanks be to a good Stetson hat. And my arms ached from the +strain of hanging onto my horse, for, hobbled as he was, he did his best +to get up and quit Canada in a gallop when the fireworks began. To make +it even more pleasant, when the clouds fell apart and the little stars +came blinking out one by one, a chill wind whistled up on the heels of +the storm, and I spent the rest of that night shivering forlornly in my +clammy clothes. + +Still a-shiver at dawn, I saddled up and loped for the crest of the +nearest divide to get the benefit of the first sun-rays. But alas! the +hoodoo was still plodding diligently on my trail. I topped a little +rise, and almost rode plump into the hostile arms of a half-dozen +breech-clout warriors coming up the other side. I think there were about +half a dozen, but I wouldn't swear to it. I hadn't the time nor +inclination to make an exact count. The general ensemble of war-paint +and spotted ponies was enough for me; I didn't need to be told that it +was my move. My spurs fairly lifted the dun horse, and we scuttled in +the opposite direction like a scared antelope. The fact that the average +Indian is not a master hand with a gun except at short range was my +salvation. If they'd been white men I would probably have been curled in +a neat heap within two hundred yards. As it was, they shot altogether +too close for comfort, and the series of yells they turned loose in that +peaceful atmosphere made me feel that I was due to be forcibly separated +from the natural covering of my cranium if I lost any time in getting +out of their sphere of influence. + +The persistent beggars chased me a good ten miles before they drew up, +concluding, I suppose, that I was too well mounted for them to overhaul. +But it might have been a lot worse; I still had my scalp intact; the +chase and its natural excitement had brought a comfortable warmth to my +chilled body; and I had made good time in the direction I wished to go. +On the whole, I felt that the red brother had done me rather a good +turn. But I kept on high ground, thereafter, where I could see a mile or +two, for I was very much alive to the fact that if another of those +surprise-parties jumped me now that my horse was tired they would have a +good deal of fun at my expense; and an Indian's idea of fun doesn't +coincide with mine--not by a long shot! + +I made some pointed remarks to my horse about Mr. Goodell and his +companions, as I rode along. If Pend d' Oreille hadn't been the nearest +place, I'd have turned back to Walsh and made that bunch of exhumers +come back after me, if it were absolutely necessary that I should pilot +them to the graves. Personally, I thought those two old plainsmen +wouldn't thank Major Lessard or any one else for disturbing their last, +long sleep; the wide, unpeopled prairies had always been their choice in +life, and I felt that they would rather be laid away in some quiet +coulée, than in any conventional "city of the dead" with prim headstones +and iron fences to shut them in. A Western man likes lots of room; dead +or alive, it irks him to be crowded. + +I fully expected to find the four waiting for me at Pend d' Oreille, and +I was prepared to hear a good deal of chaffing about getting lost. What +of my waiting on the ridge that afternoon, and bearing more or less away +from the proper direction at night, I did not reach the post till noon; +and I was a bit puzzled to find only the men who were on duty there. I +was digesting this along with the remains of the troopers' dinner, when +Goodell and his satellites popped over the hill that looked down on Pend +d' Oreille, and, a few minutes later, came riding nonchalantly up to the +mess-house. + +"Well, you beat us in," Goodell greeted airily. "Did you find a short +cut?" + +"Sure thing," I responded, with what irony I could command. + +"Where the deuce _did_ you go, anyway, after you stopped in that +creek-bottom?" he asked, eying me with much curiosity. "We nearly played +our horses out galloping around looking for you--after we'd gone a mile +or so, and you didn't catch up." + +"Then you must have kept damned close to the coulée-bottoms," I retorted +ungraciously, "for I burnt the earth getting up on a pinnacle where you +could see me, before you had time to go very far." + +"Oh, well, it's easy to lose track of a lone man in a country as big as +this," he returned suavely. "We all got here, so what's the odds? I +guess we'll stick here till morning. We can't make the round trip this +afternoon, and I'm not camping on the hills when it's avoidable." + +It struck me that he was uncommonly philosophical about it, so I merely +grunted and went on with my dinner. + +That evening, when we went to the stable to fix up our horses for the +night, I got a clearer insight into his reason for laying over that +afternoon. They had been doing some tall riding, and their livestock was +simply unfit to go farther. The four saddle-horses looked as if they had +been dragged through a small-sized knothole; their gauntness, and the +dispirited droop of their heads, spelled complete fatigue to any man who +knew the symptoms of hard riding. By comparison, my sweat-grimed dun was +fresh as a morning breeze. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE GENTLEMAN WHO RODE IN THE LEAD. + + +It took us all of the next day to make the trip to Stony Crossing and +back by way of the place where Rutter was buried. Goodell had no fancy, +he said, for a night camp on the prairie when it could be avoided. He +planned to make an early start from Pend d' Oreille, and thus reach Walsh +by riding late the next night. So, well toward evening, we swung back to +the river post. Goodell and his fellows were nowise troubled by the +presence of dead men; they might have been packing so much merchandise, +from their demeanor. But I was a long way from feeling cheerful. The +ghastly burdens, borne none too willingly by the extra horses, put a +damper on me, and I'm a pretty sanguine individual as a rule. + +When we had unloaded the bodies from the uneasy horses, and laid them +carefully in a lean-to at the stable-end, we led our mounts inside. +Goodell paused in the doorway and emitted a whistle of surprise at sight +of a horse in one of the stalls. I looked over his shoulder and +recognized at a glance the rangy black MacRae had ridden. + +"They must have given Mac's horse to another trooper," I hazarded. + +"Not that you could notice," Goodell replied, going on in. "They don't +switch mounts in the Force. If they have now, it's the first time to my +knowledge. When a man's in clink, his nag gets nothing but mild exercise +till his rightful rider gets out. And MacRae got thirty days. Well, +we'll soon find out who rode him in." + +I pulled the saddle off my horse, slapped it down on the dirt floor, and +went stalking up to the long cabin. The first man my eyes lighted upon +as I stepped inside was MacRae, humped disconsolately on the edge of a +bunk. I was mighty glad to see him, but I hadn't time to more than say +"hello" before Goodell and the others came in. Mac drew a letter from +his pocket and handed it to Goodell. + +He glanced quickly through it, then swept the rest of us with a +quizzical smile. "By Jove! you must have a pull with the old man, Mac," +he said to MacRae. "I suppose you know what's in this epistle?" + +"Partly." Mac answered as though it were no particular concern of his. + +"I'm to turn Hicks and Gregory over to you," he read the note again to +be sure of his words, "see that you get a week's supply of grub here, +and then leave you to your own devices. What's the excitement, now? +Piegans on the war-path? Bull-train missing, or whisky-runners getting +too fresh, or what? My word, the major has certainly established a +precedent; you're the first man I've known that got thirty days in clink +and didn't have to serve it to the last, least minute. How the deuce did +you manage it? Put me on, like a good fellow--I might want to get a +sentence suspended some day. Any of us are liable to get it, y'know." +Goodell's tone was full of gentle raillery. + +"The high and mighty sent me out to lead a forlorn hope," Mac dryly +responded. "Does that look like a suspended sentence?" He turned his arm +so that we could see the ripped stitching where his sergeant's stripes +had been cut away. + +"Tough--but most of us have been there, one time or another," Goodell +observed sympathetically; and with that the subject rested. + +Though I was burning to know things, we hadn't the least chance to talk +that evening. Nine lusty-lunged adults in that one room prohibited +confidential speech. Not till next morning, when we rode away from Pend +d' Oreille with our backs to a sun that was lazily clearing the +hill-tops, did MacRae and I have an opportunity to unburden our souls. +When we were fairly under way in the direction of Writing-Stone, Hicks +and Gregory--the breed scout--lagged fifty or sixty yards behind, and +MacRae turned in his saddle and gave me a queer sort of look. + +"I wasn't joking last night when I told Goodell that this was something +of a forlorn hope," he said. "Are you ready to take a chance on getting +your throat cut or being shot in the back, Sarge?" + +I stared at him a second. It was certainly an astounding question, +coming from that source--more like the language of the villain in a +howling melodrama than a cold-blooded inquiry that called for a serious +answer. But he was looking at me soberly enough; and he wasn't in the +habit of saying startling things, unless there was a fairly solid basis +of truth in them. He was the last man in the world to accuse of saying +or doing anything merely for the sake of effect. + +"That depends," I returned. "Why?" + +"Because if we find what we're going after that's the sort of formation +we may have to buck against until we get that stuff to Walsh," he +replied coolly. "Beautiful prospect, eh? I reckon you'll understand +better if I tell you how it came about. + +"The day you left, Lessard had me up on the carpet again. When he got +through cross-questioning me, he considered a while, and finally said +that under the circumstances he felt that losing my stripes would be +punishment enough for the rank insubordination I'd been guilty of, and +he would therefore revoke the thirty-day sentence. I pricked up my ears +at that, I can tell you, because Lessard isn't built that way at all. +When a man talks to any officer the way I did to him, he gets all that's +coming, and then some for good measure. I began to see light pretty +quick, though. He went on to say that he had spoken to Miss Rowan about +her father, and had learned that without doubt those two old fellows +were headed this way with between forty and fifty thousand dollars in +gold-dust, that they'd washed on Peace River. Since I'd been on the spot +when Rutter died, and knew the Writing-Stone country so well, he thought +I would stand a better show of finding their _cache_ than any one else +he could send out. He wanted to recover that stuff for Miss Rowan, if it +were possible. So he wrote that order to Goodell and started me out to +join you--with a warning to keep our eyes open, for undoubtedly the men +who killed Rutter and held you up would be watching for a chance at us +if we found that gold." + +"Very acute reasoning on his part, I'm sure," I interrupted. "We knew +that without his telling. And if he thinks those fellows are hanging +about waiting for a whack at that dust, why doesn't he get out with a +bunch of his troopers and round them up?" + +"That's what," Mac grinned. "But wait a minute. This was about three in +the afternoon, and he ordered me to start at once so as to catch you +fellows as soon as possible. I started a few minutes after three. You +remember the paymaster's train left that morning. He had a mounted +escort of six or seven besides his teamster. The MacLeod trail runs less +than twenty miles north of here, you know. I followed it, knowing about +where they'd camp for the night, thinking I'd make their outfit and get +something to eat and a chance to sleep an hour or two; then I could come +on here early in the morning. I got to the place where I had figured +they would stop, about eleven o'clock, but they had made better time +than usual and gone farther, so I quit the trail and struck across the +hills, for I didn't want to ride too far out of my way. When I got on +top of the first divide I ran onto a little spring and stopped to water +my horse and let him pick a bit of grass; I'd been riding eight hours, +and still had quite a jaunt to make. I must have been about three miles +south of the trail then." + +He stopped to light the cigarette he had rolled while he talked, and I +kept still, wondering what would come next. MacRae wasn't the man to go +into detail like that unless he had something important to bring out. + +"I sat there about an hour, I reckon," he continued. "By that time it +was darker than a stack of black cats, and fixing to storm. I thought I +might as well be moving as sit there and get soaked to the hide. While I +was tinkering with the cinch I thought I heard a couple of shots. Of +course, I craned my neck to listen, and in a second a regular fusillade +broke out--away off, you know; about like a stick of dry wood crackling +in the stove when you're outside the cabin. I loped out of the hollow +by the spring and looked down toward the trail. The red flashes were +breaking out like a bunch of firecrackers, and with pretty much the same +sound. It didn't last long--a minute or so, maybe. I listened for a +while, but there was nothing to be seen and I heard no more shooting. +Now, I knew the pay-wagon was somewhere on that road, and it struck me +that the bunch that got Hans and Rowan and held us up might have tried +the same game on it; and from the noise I judged it hadn't been a +walkaway. It was a wild guess; but I thought I ought to go down and see, +anyway. Single-handed, and in that dark you could almost feel, I knew I +was able to sidestep the trouble, if it should be Indians or anything I +didn't care to get mixed up in. + +"I'd gone about a mile down the slope when the lightning began to tear +the sky open. In five minutes the worst of it was right over me, and one +flash came on top of the other so fast it was like a big eye winking +through the clouds. One second the hills and coulées would show plain as +day, and next you'd have to feel to find the ears of your horse. I +pulled up, for I didn't care to go down there with all that +lightning-play to make a shining mark of me, and while I sat there +wondering how long it was going to last, a long, sizzling streak went +zig-zagging up out of the north and another out of the east, and when +they met overhead and the white glare spread over the clouds, it was +like the sun breaking out over the whole country. It lit up every ridge +and hollow for two or three seconds, and showed me four riders tearing +up the slope at a high run. I don't think they saw me at all, for they +passed me, in the dark that shut down after that flash of lightning, so +close that I could hear the pat-a-pat of the hoofs. And when the next +flash came they were out of sight. + +"Right after that the rain hit me like a cloudburst. That was over +quick, and by the time it had settled to a drizzle I was down in the +paymaster's camp. Things were sure in an uproar there. Two men killed, +two more crippled, and the paymaster raving like a maniac. I hadn't been +far wide of the mark. The men that passed me on the ridge had held up +the outfit--and looted fifty thousand dollars in cold cash." + +"Fifty thousand--the devil!" I broke in. "And they got away with it?" + +"With all the ease in the world," MacRae answered calmly. "They made a +sneak on the camp in the dark, clubbed both sentries, and had their guns +on the rest before they knew what was wrong. They got the money, and +every horse in camp. The shooting I heard came off as they started away +with the plunder. Some of the troopers grabbed up their guns and cut +loose at random, and these hold-up people returned the compliment with +deadly effect. + +"That isn't all," he continued moodily. "I stayed there till daylight, +and then gathered up their stock. All the thieves wanted of the horses +was to set the outfit afoot for the time being--a trick which bears the +earmarks of the bunch that got in their work on us. They had turned the +horses loose a mile or so away, and I found them grazing together. When +I'd brought them in I got a bite to eat and came on about my own +business. + +"Up on the ridge, close by the spring I had stopped at, I came slap on +their track; the four horses had pounded a trail in the wet sod that a +kid could follow. I tore back to the paymaster's camp and begged him to +get his men mounted and we would follow it up. But he wouldn't listen to +such a thing. I don't know why, unless he had some money they had +overlooked and was afraid they might come back for another try at him. +So I went back and hit the trail alone. It led south for a while, and +then east to Sage Creek. This was day before yesterday, you _sabe_. Near +noon I found a place where they'd _cached_ two extra horses in the brush +on Sage Creek. After that their track turned straight west again, and it +was hard to follow, for the ground was drying fast. Finally I had to +quit--couldn't make out hoof-marks any more. And it was so late I had to +lie out that night. I got to Pend d' Oreille yesterday morning two or +three hours after you fellows left for the crossing." + +I haven't quite got a gambler's faith in a hunch, or presentiment, or +intuitive conclusion--whatever term one chooses to apply--but from the +moment he spoke of seeing four riders on a ridge during that frolic of +the elements, a crazy idea kept persistently turning over and over in my +mind; and when Mac got that far I blurted it out for what it was worth, +prefacing it with the happenings of the trip from Walsh to Pend +d' Oreille. He listened without manifesting the interest I looked for, +tapping idly on the saddle-horn, and staring straight ahead with an odd +pucker about his mouth. + +"I was just going to ask you if you all came through together," he +observed, in a casual tone. "I neglected to say that I got a pretty fair +look at those fellows. In fact, I wouldn't hesitate to swear to the face +of the gentleman who rode in the lead of the four." + +"You did? Was it--was my hunch right?" I demanded eagerly. + +"I could turn in my saddle and shoot his eye out," MacRae responded +whimsically. "And I don't know but that would be more than justice. Of +course, the others were the men, but I'm positive of Gregory. You see +what we're up against, Sarge. + +"That's why," he soberly concluded, "I think we'll have our hands full +if we do locate that stuff. It's a big chunk of money, and a little +thing like killing a man or two won't trouble them. We'll be watched +every minute of the time that we prowl around those painted rocks; +that's a cinch. And when we've pulled the chestnut out of the fire +they'll gobble it--if there's the ghost of a chance." + +While I was digesting this unpalatable information, Hicks and Gregory +spurred abreast of us; for the remainder of the journey we four rode +elbow to elbow, and conversation was scant. + +Mid-afternoon found us camped under the Stone. Once on the ground, I +began to think we were in no immediate danger of getting our throats cut +for the sake of the treasure. Rutter had said "under the Stone"--and the +vagueness of his words came home to me with considerable force, for the +Stone, roughly estimated, was a good mile in length. It paralleled the +river, a perpendicular wall of gray sandstone. An aptly-named place; +wherever a ledge offered foothold, and even in places that seemed wholly +beyond reach of human hands, the bald front of the cliff was chiseled +with rude traceries--the picture-writing of the Blackfoot tribe. The +history of a thousand battles and buffalo-hunts was written there. And +somewhere at the foot of that mile-long cliff, under the uncouth figures +carved by the red men in their hour of triumphant ease, rested that +which we had come to find. I sat with my back against a cottonwood and +smoked a cigarette while I considered the impassive front of +Writing-On-the-Stone; and the fruit of my consideration was that he who +sought for the needle in the haystack had no more difficult task than +ours. + +In due time we ate supper, and dark spread its mantle over the land. +Then MacRae and I crawled up on a projecting ledge of rock to roll out +our blankets--in a place where we could not well be surprised. Not that +either of us anticipated anything of the sort so early in the game; when +we had found what we were after, that would come. But the mere fact +that we were all playing a part made us incline to caution. I don't know +if we betrayed our knowledge or suspicions to Hicks and Gregory, but it +was a good deal of an effort to treat those red-handed scoundrels as if +they were legitimate partners in a risky enterprise. We had to do it, +though. Until they showed their hand we could do nothing but stand pat +and wait for developments; and if they watched us unobtrusively, we did +the same by them. It is not exactly soothing to the nerves, however, to +be in touch all day and then lie down to sleep at night within a few +feet of men whom you imagine are only awaiting the proper moment to +introduce a chunk of lead into your system or slip a knife under your +fifth rib. I can't truthfully say that I slept soundly on that ledge. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +WE LOSE AGAIN. + + +Three days later MacRae and I scaled the steep bank at the west end of +the cliff and threw ourselves, panting, on the level that ran up to the +sheer drop-off. When we had regained the breath we'd lost on that +Mansard-roof climb we drew near to the edge, where we could stare into +the valley three hundred feet below while we made us a cigarette apiece. +We were just a mite discouraged. Beginning that first morning at the +east end of the Writing-Stone we had worked west, conning the +weather-worn face of it for a mark that would give a clue to the +_cache_. Also we had scanned carefully the sandy soil patches along the +boulder-strewn base, seeking the tell-tale footprints of horse or man. +And we had found nothing. Each day the conviction grew stronger upon us +that finding that gold would be purely chance, a miracle of luck; +systematic search had so far resulted in nothing but blistered heels +from much walking. And unless we did find it, thereby giving the +gentlemen of the mask some incentive to match themselves against us once +more, we were not likely to have the opportunity of breaking up a nervy +bunch of murdering thieves. + +We reasoned that the men whose guns we had looked into over Rutter's +body and those who robbed the paymaster on the MacLeod trail were tarred +with the same stick; likewise, that even now two of them ate out of the +same pot with us three times daily. The thing was to prove it. +Personally, the paymaster's trouble was none of my concern; what I +wanted was to get back that ten thousand dollars, or deal those hounds +ten thousand dollars' worth of misery. Not that I wasn't willing to take +a long chance to help Lyn to her own, but I was human enough to remember +that I had a good deal at stake myself. It was a rather depressed +stock-hand, name of Flood, who blew cigarette smoke out over the brow of +Writing-Stone that evening. + +Mac finished smoking and ground the stub into the earth with his heel. +For another minute or two he sat there without speaking, absently +flipping pebbles over the bank. + +"I reckon we might as well poke along the top to camp," he said at last, +getting to his feet. "I sent that breed back, down there, so we could +talk without having to keep cases on him. This is beginning to look like +a hopeless case, isn't it?" + +"Somewhat," I admitted. "I did think that Rutter's description would put +us on the right track when we got there; but I can't see much meaning in +it now. I suppose we'll just have to keep on going it blind." + +"We'll have to stay with it while there's any chance," he said +thoughtfully. "But I've been thinking that it might be a good plan to +take a fall out of those two." He jerked his thumb in the direction of +camp. "If we have sized things up right, they'll make some sort of move, +and if we're mistaken there will be no harm done. I'll tell you an idea +that popped into my head a minute ago. We can pretend to locate the +stuff. Fix up a couple of dummy sacks, you know, and get them to camp +and packed on the horse without letting them see what's inside. If Lyn +gave Lessard the right figures, there should be between a hundred and +forty or fifty pounds of dust. It's small in bulk, but weighty as a bad +conscience. If we had a couple of little sacks we could get around that +problem, easy enough--this black sand along the river would pass for +gold-dust in weight. We could make the proper sort of play, and give +them the chance they're looking for. If they make a break it'll be up to +us to get the best of the trouble." + +"It might work," I replied. "If you think it would make them tip their +hand, I'm with you. This watch-the-other-fellow business is making me +nervous as an old woman. Once we had those two dead to rights they might +let out something that would enable us to land the whole bunch, and the +plunder besides; once we had them rounded up we could come back here and +hunt for Hank Rowan's gold-dust in peace." + +"You've got the idea exactly, and we'll see what we can do in the +morning," Mac returned. "But don't get married to the notion that +they'll cough up all they know, right off the reel. Hicks might, if you +went at him hard enough. But not the other fellow. Gregory's game clear +through--he's demonstrated that in different ways since I've been in the +Force. You could carve him to pieces without hearing a cheep, if he +decided to keep his mouth shut. And he's about as dangerous a man in a +scrimmage as I know. If there's a row, don't overlook Mr. Gregory." + +We hoofed it toward camp as briskly as our galled feet would permit, for +the sun was getting close to the sky line, and talked over Mac's scheme +as we went. There was no danger of being overheard on that bench. As a +matter of fact, Hicks and Gregory didn't know we were up there; at +least, they were not supposed to know. MacRae had made a practice of +leaving one or the other in camp, in case some prowling Indians should +spy our horses and attempt to run them off. That afternoon Hicks had +been on guard. When Mac started Gregory back he told him that we would +be along presently, then sat himself down on a rock and watched the +breed. When he was far enough up the flat to lose track of our movements +we dropped into a convenient washout and sneaked along it to the foot of +the bank, where a jutting point of rock hid sight of us climbing the +hill. + +We had no thought of spying on them, at first--it was simply to be rid +of their onerous presence for a while, and getting on the bench was an +afterthought. But as we came opposite camp, MacRae took a notion to look +down and see what they were about. At a point which overlooked the +bottom some two hundred yards from the east end of the Stone, we got +down on our stomachs and wriggled carefully to the naked rim of the +cliff. For some time we laid there, peering down at the men below. Hicks +was puttering around the fire, evidently cooking supper, and Gregory was +moving the picket rope of his horse to fresh grass. There was nothing +out of the ordinary to be seen, and I drew back. But MacRae still kept +his place. When he did back away from the edge, he had the look of a man +who has made some important discovery. + +"On my soul, I believe I've found it," he calmly announced. + +"What!" + +"I believe I have," he repeated, a trace of exultation in his tone. "At +least, it amounts to the same thing. Crawl up there again, Sarge, and +look straight down at the first ledge from the bottom. Hurry; you won't +see anything if the sun has left it. And be careful how you show your +head. We don't want to get them stirred up till we have to." + +Cautiously I peeped over the brink, straight down as Mac had directed. +The shadow that follows on the heels of a setting sun was just creeping +over the ledge, but the slanting rays lingered long enough to give me +sight of a glittering patch on the gray stone shelf below. While I +stared the sun withdrew its fading beams from the whole face of the +cliff, but even in the duller light a glint of yellow showed dimly, a +pin point of gold in the deepening shadow. + +Gold! I drew back from the rim of Writing-On-the-Stone, that set of +whispered phrases echoing in my ears. Mac caught my eye and grinned. +"_Gold--raw gold--on the rock--above._" I mouthed the words parrotlike, +and he nodded comprehendingly. + +"Oh, thunder!" I exclaimed. "Do you reckon _that's_ what he meant?" + +"What else?" Mac reasoned. "They'd mark the place somehow--and aren't +those his exact words? What dummies we were not to look on those ledges +before. You can't see the surface of them from the flat; and we might +have known they would hardly put a mark where it could be seen by any +pilgrim who happened to ride through that bottom." + +"Hope you're right," I grunted optimistically. + +"We'll know beyond a doubt, in the morning," Mac declared. "To-night we +won't do anything but eat, drink, and sleep as sound as possible, for +to-morrow we may have one hell of a time. I prefer to have a few hours +of daylight ahead of us when we raise that _cache_. Things are apt to +tighten, and I don't like a rumpus in the dark. Just now I'm hungry. If +that stuff is there, it will keep. Come on to camp; our troubles are +either nearly over or just about to begin in earnest." + +We followed the upland past the end of the Stone till we found a slope +that didn't require wings for descent. If Hicks or Gregory wondered at +our arrival from the opposite direction in which we should have +appeared, they didn't betray any unseemly curiosity. Supper and a +cigarette or two consumed the twilight hour, and when dark shut down we +took to our blankets and dozed through the night. + +At daybreak we breakfasted. Without a word to any one MacRae picked up +his carbine and walked out of camp. I followed, equally silent. It was +barely a hundred yards to the ledge, and I caught myself wishing it were +a good deal farther--out of range of those watchful eyes. I couldn't +help wondering how it would feel to be potted at the moment of +discovery. + +"I thought I'd leave them both behind, and let them take it out in +guessing," Mac explained, when we stood under the rock shelf upon which +we had looked down the evening before. "We're right under their noses, +so they won't do anything till the stuff's actually in sight." + +He studied the face of the cliff for a minute. The ledge jutted out from +the towering wall approximately twenty feet above our heads, but it +could be reached by a series of jagged points and knobs; a sort of +natural stairway--though some of the steps were a long way apart. +Boulders of all shapes and sizes lay bedded in the soft earth where we +stood. + +"You shin up there, Sarge," Mac commanded, "and locate that mark. It +ought to be an easy climb." + +I "shinned," and reached the ledge with a good deal of skin peeled from +various parts of my person. The first object my eye fell upon as I +hoisted myself above the four-foot shelf was a dull, yellow spot on the +gray rock, near enough so that I could lean forward and touch it with my +fingers. A two-inch circle of the real thing--I'd seen enough gold in +the raw to know it without any acid test--hammered into the coarse +sandstone. I pried it up with the blade of my knife and looked it over. +Originally it had been a fair-sized nugget. Hans or Rowan had pounded it +into place with the back of a hatchet (the corner-marks told me that), +flattening it to several times its natural diameter. I threw it down to +MacRae, and looked carefully along the ledge. There was no other mark +that I could see; I began to wonder if we were as hot on the scent as we +had thought. + +"Is there a loose piece of rock up there?" Mac called presently. "If +there is, set it on the edge, in line with where this was." + +I found a fragment about the size of my fist and set it on the rim of +the ledge. He squinted up at it a moment, then nodded, smiling. + +"Come on down now, Sarge," he grinned; and, seating himself on a rock +with the carbine across his knees, he began to roll a cigarette, as if +the finding of Hank Rowan's gold-_cache_ were a thing of no importance +whatever. + +"Well," I began, when I had negotiated that precarious succession of +knobs and notches and accumulated a fresh set of bruises, "why don't you +get busy? How much wiser are you now? Where's your gold-dust?" + +He took a deliberate puff and squinted up at the ledge again. "I'm +sitting on it, as near as I can figure," he coolly asserted. + +"Yes, you are," I fleered. "I'm from Missouri!" + +"Oh, you're a doubting Thomas of the first water," he said. "Stand +behind me, you confounded unbeliever. Kink your back a little and look +over that stone you set for a mark. Do you see anything that catches +your attention?" + +Getting in the position he suggested, I looked up. Away back in the days +before the white man was a power to be reckoned with in the Indian's +scheme of things, some warrior had stood upon that self-same ledge and +hacked out with a flint chisel what he and his fellows doubtless +considered a work of art. Uncanny-looking animals, and uncannier figures +that might have passed for anything from an articulated skeleton to a +Missing Link, cavorted in a long line across that tribal +picture-gallery. Between each group of figures the face of the rock was +scored with mysterious signs and rudely limned weapons of war and chase. +Right over the stone marker, a long-shafted war-lance was carved--the +blade pointing down. MacRae's seat, stone-marker, and aboriginal +spearhead; the three lined up like the sights of a modern rifle. The +conclusion, in the light of what we knew from Rutter, was obvious, even +to a lunkhead like myself. + +"It looks like you might have struck it," I was constrained to admit. + +Mac threw away his cigarette. "Here and now is where we find out," he +declared. + +Worming our fingers under the edge of the boulder, we lifted with all +the strength that was in us. For a second it seemed that we could never +budge it. Then it began to rise slowly, so slowly that I thought the +muscles of my back would snap, and MacRae's face close by mine grew red +and then purple with the strain. But it moved, and presently a great +heave turned it over. Bedded in the soft earth underneath lay the slim +buckskin sacks. Our fingers, I remember, trembled a bit as we stood one +on end and loosened its mouth to make sure if we had found the treasure +for which two men had already lost their lives. + +[Illustration: BEDDED IN THE SOFT EARTH UNDERNEATH LAY THE SLIM BUCKSKIN +SACKS. + +_Page 159._] + +"Here"--Mac handed me his carbine--"you stay with the yellow temptation. +From now on we'll have to keep a close eye on this stuff, and likewise +have our guns handy. I'll make those fellows pack up and bring the +horses here. Then we'll load this and pull for Walsh." + +His first move was to saddle his black horse and my dun. These he led to +the fire, and thereafter stood a little to one side, placidly consuming +a cigarette while the other two packed the camp-outfit and saddled their +own mounts. Then they trailed across the flat toward me, MacRae blandly +bringing up the rear. He wasn't taking any chances. + +Half an hour later, with the sacks of gold securely lashed on the +_aparejos_ of the pack-horse, we climbed out of Writing-Stone bottom and +swung away over the silent tablelands. + +With Writing-on-the-Stone scarcely three miles behind, the +long-abandoned burrow of a badger betrayed us into the hands of the +enemy. (What a power for thwarting the plans of men little things +sometimes exercise!) We had contrived that Gregory should lead the +pack-horse, which gave MacRae and me both hands to use in case of a +hostile demonstration; that there would be such, neither of us doubted +from the moment those two laid eyes on the buckskin sacks. The sidelong, +covetous glance that passed between them bespoke what was in their +minds. And from that time on the four of us were like so many +open-headed casks of powder sitting by a fire; sooner or later a spark +would bring the explosion. We had them at a disadvantage trotting across +the level upland, Gregory in the lead and Hicks sandwiched between Mac +and myself--until MacRae's horse planted his foreleg to the knee in an +old badger-hole hidden under a rank accumulation of grass. The black +pitched forward so suddenly that Mac had no time to swing clear, and as +he went down under the horse Gregory's agile brain grasped the +opportunity of the situation, and his gun flashed out of its scabbard. + +My hand flew to mine as I jerked the dun up short, but I wasn't fast +enough--and Hicks was too close. It was a trilogy of gun-drawing. +Gregory drew his and fired at MacRae with the devilish quickness of a +striking rattler; I drew with intent to get Mr. Gregory; and Hicks drew +his and slapped me over the head with it, even as my finger curled on +the trigger. My gun went off, I know--afterward I had a dim recollection +of a faint report--but whether the bullet went whistling into the blue +above or buried itself in the broad bosom of the Territory, I can't say. +Things ceased to happen, right then and there, so far as I was +concerned. And I haven't satisfied myself yet why Hicks struck instead +of shooting; unless he had learned the frontier lesson that a bullet in +a vital spot doesn't _always_ incapacitate a man for deadly gun-play, +while a hard rap on the head invariably does. It wasn't any scruple of +mercy, for Hicks was as cold-blooded a brute as ever glanced down a +gun-barrel. + +When my powers of sight and speech and hearing returned, MacRae stood +over me, nowise harmed. The black horse lay where he had fallen. I sat +up and glanced about, thankful that I was still in the flesh, but in a +savage mood for all that. This, thought I, is a dismal-looking +outcome--two men and a dead horse left high and dry on the sun-flooded +prairie. And a rampant ache in my head, seconded by a medium-sized gash +in the scalp, didn't make for an access of optimism at that moment. + +"Well," I burst out profanely, "we lose again, eh?" + +"Looks like it," Mac answered laconically. Then he whirled about and +walked to a little point some distance away, where he stood with his +back to me, looking toward Lost River. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +OUTLAWED. + + +I sat where I was for a while, fingering my sore head and keeping my +thoughts to myself, for I had a keen sense of the mood he was in. For +the second time, through no fault of his own, he had failed to live up +to that tradition of the Force which accepts nothing short of +unqualified victory for a Mounted Policeman when he clashes with +breakers of the law. And, in addition, he had let slip through his +fingers a fortune that belonged to a woman for whom he cared a great +deal more than he was willing to admit. I felt pretty small and ashamed +myself, to think of the ease with which they had left us afoot on the +bald prairie after all our scheming, our precaution against something we +were sure would happen; and there was no responsibility on my +shoulders--except for that ten thousand of La Pere's, which I was +beginning to think I'd looked my last upon. Mac had not only the +knowledge of personal failure--bitter enough, itself, to a man of his +temperament--to gnaw at him, but the prospect of another grilling from +the powers in gold braid. It would have been strange if he hadn't felt +blue. + +He came back, however, in a few minutes, and squatting beside me +abstractedly got out papers and tobacco. + +"I suppose that bunch will quit the country now," he remarked at length. +"They've got their hands on a heap of money in the last ten days; all +they'll have a chance to grab for some time. And they've come out into +the open. So there's not much doubt of their next move--they'll be on +the wing." + +"Well, we have a cinch on identifying them now," I commented. "We've got +that much out of the deal. If the Mounted Police are half as good +man-hunters as they are said to be, they ought to round up that bunch in +short order. Did the black hurt you when he fell?" + +"Bruised my leg some," he returned indifferently. Then, scowling at the +remembrance: "If he hadn't caught me right under him I'd have got +action on those two. But the jar threw my six-shooter where I couldn't +reach it, and the carbine was jammed in the stirrup-leather on the wrong +side. I reckon Gregory thought he got me first shot. He would have, too, +only Crow threw up his head and stopped the bullet instead of me. They +had ducked into that coulée by the time I got clear. Hicks grabbed your +horse and took him along. I'm somewhat puzzled to know why they didn't +stand pat and make a clean job of us both. Blast them, anyway!" + +"Same here, and more of it," I fervently exclaimed. + +"Come on, let's get out of here," Mac abruptly proposed. "We'll have to +make Pend d' Oreille and send word to Walsh. It'll take the whole force +to catch them now." + +My gun lay where it had fallen when Hicks whacked me over the head. I +picked it up, replaced the empty cartridge, and shoved it back into the +scabbard. MacRae hoisted the carbine to his shoulder, and we started. + +We poked along slowly at first, for I was still a bit dizzy from that +blow. Before long we came to a spring seeping from the hillside, and +when I had bathed my head in the cool water I began to feel more like +myself. Thereafter, we tramped silently across high, dry benches, slid +and scrambled to the bottoms of an endless succession of coulées, and +wearily climbed the steep banks that lay beyond. The cool morning wind +died away; the sun reeled up on its appointed circle, glaring brazenly +into every nook and cranny in the land. Underfoot, the dry sod grew +warm, then hot, till the soles of our boots became instruments of +torture to feet that were sadly galled by fruitless tramping around the +Stone. When a man has grown up in the habit of mounting a horse to +travel any distance over three hundred yards, a walk of twenty +undulating miles over a network of bald ridges and yawning coulées makes +him think that a sulphur-and-brimstone hereafter can't possibly hold +much discomfort that he hasn't sampled. A cowpuncher in high-heeled +riding-boots is handicapped for pedestrianism by both training and +inclination--and that scarred and wrinkled portion of the Northwest is a +mighty poor strolling-ground for any man. + +But we kept on, for the simple reason that there was nothing else we +could do. MacRae wasted no breath in words. If the heat and the ungodly +steepness of the hills and the luke-warm water that trickled along the +creek channels ruffled his temper, he made no noise about it, only +pressed doggedly toward Pend d' Oreille. I daresay he thought I was +attending to that part of it, registering a complaint for both of us. +And if I didn't rise to the occasion it was the fault of my limited +vocabulary. I kept a stiff backbone for a while, but presently a futile +rage against circumstances bubbled up and boiled over. I climbed each +succeeding canyon wall oozing perspiration and profanity, and when the +top was reached took fresh breath and damned the Northwest by sections +in a large, fluent manner of speech. In time, however, the foolishness +of this came home to me, and I subsided into spasmodic growling, saving +my wind for the miles yet to cover. + +Well past noon we reached the summit of a hog-backed ridge that +overlooked the tortuous windings of Lost River, a waterless channel +between banks that were void of vegetation. The crest of the divide was +studded with great outcroppings of sand-stone, and in the shadow of one +giant rock we laid down to rest before we descended into that barren +valley where the heat-waves shimmered like crepon silk. The cool bit of +earth was good to stretch upon; for nearly an hour we laid there, beyond +reach of the glowing sun; it was worth almost the treasure we had lost +to ease our aching feet. Then reluctantly we started again. + +As we stepped from behind the rock three riders came into sight on the +opposite slope of Lost River. A moment's scrutiny assured us that they +were Mounted Policemen. From habit our eyes swept the surrounding +country, and in a moment we observed other groups of mounted men, an +equal distance apart and traveling in the same general direction--like a +round-up sweeping over a cattle-range. + +"They're out for somebody. I shouldn't be surprised if they have +smelled out our friends," said MacRae. "And seeing this bunch is heading +right toward us, we might as well take it easy here till they come up." + +Returning to the cool shade, we waited till they crossed that miniature +desert. I looked once or twice, and hoped we would not have to walk over +it; I'd seen the Mohave and the Staked Plains, and I knew it was +sizzling hot in that ancient river-bed--it _is_ hot, and dry, when the +heat-waves play tricks with objects seen from afar. Those three riders +moved in a transparent haze, distorted, grotesque figures; now giants, +broad, uncouth shapes; now pigmies astride of horses that progressed +slowly on long, stiltlike legs, again losing form and waving like tall, +slender trees swayed by vagrant winds. After a time they ascended above +the level where the superheated atmosphere played its pranks, and came +riding up the ridge in their true presentment. When they got within +shouting distance we stepped into the sunlight and hailed them. + +From the moment that they jerked up their horses at MacRae's call, I +had an odd sense of impending trouble. For an instant it seemed as if +they were about to break for cover; and when they approached us there +was a strained, expectant expression on each tanned face, a wariness in +their actions that looked unnatural to me. The nearer they came the more +did I feel keyed up for some emergency. I can't explain why; that's +something that I don't think will bear logical analysis. Who can explain +the sixth sense that warns a night-herder of a stampede a moment before +the herd jumps off the bed-ground? But that is how I felt--and +immediately it transpired that there was good reason. + +They stopped their horses within ten feet of us and dismounted, all +three of them, a corporal and two privates, in the same breath that we +said "hello." The corporal, rather chalky-looking under his tan, stepped +forward and laid a hand on MacRae's shoulder. + +"Gordon MacRae and Sarge Flood, in the Queen's name I arrest you for the +robbery of Paymaster Ingstram on the MacLeod trail and the murder of +two of his escort, and I warn you that anything you may say will be used +against you." + +He poured it out without pause or inflection, like a lesson well +learned, a little ceremony of speech that it was well to hurry over; and +the two troopers edged nearer, the right hand of each stealing toward +the pistol that rested on his hip. It took nerve to beard us that way, +when one comes to think it over. If we had been guilty of that raid, it +was dollars to doughnuts that we would resist arrest, and according to +the rules and regulations of the Force, they were compelled to take a +long chance. A Mounted Policeman can't use his gun except in +self-defense. He isn't supposed to smoke up a fugitive unless the +fugitive begins to throw lead his way--which method of procedure gives a +man who is, in the vernacular, "on the dodge" all the best of a +situation like that; for it gives an outlaw a chance to take the +initiative, and the first shot often settles an argument of that kind. +The dominating idea, as I understood it, was that the majesty of the law +should prove a sufficiently powerful weapon; and in the main it did. No +thief, murderer, or smuggler ever yet successfully and systematically +defied it. Men have gone to the bad up there--robbed, murdered, +defrauded, killed a Policeman or two, maybe, but in the end were +gathered in by "the riders of the plains" and dealt with according to +their just deserts. So it has come to pass throughout the length and +breadth of the Northwest that "in the Queen's name" out of the mouth of +an unarmed redcoat, with one hand lightly on your shoulder, carries more +weight than a smoking gun. + +None of this occurred to me, just then. The one thing that loomed big in +my mind's eye was the monstrous injustice of the accusation. Coming +right on top of what I'd lately experienced at the hands of the men who +had really done that dirty job--my head still tingled from the impact of +Hicks' pistol--it stirred up all the ugliness I was capable of, and a +lot that I had never suspected. No Fort Walsh guardhouse for me! No +lying behind barred windows, with my feet chain-hobbled like a straying +horse, while the slow-moving Canadian courts debated my guilt or +innocence! Not while I had the open prairie underfoot and the summer sky +above, and hands to strike a blow or pull a trigger. + +Even had I been alone I think that I was crazy enough, for the moment, +to have matched myself single-handed against the three of them. In which +case I should likely have bidden a premature farewell to all earthly +interests--though I might, perhaps, have managed to take with me a +Policeman or two for company on the long trail. But a queer look that +flashed over MacRae's face, a suggestive drawing back of his arm, +intimated that something of the same was in his mind. Heavens, but a man +can think a lot in the space of time it takes to count three! + +I jumped for the two troopers, with a frenzied notion that I could put +them both out of business if MacRae would only attend to the corporal. +The distance didn't permit of gun-play; and, hot as I was, I had the +sense to know that those men weren't responsible for my troubles; I +didn't want to kill them, if I could help it--what I desired above all +else was to get away, and burn powder with Hicks, Gregory and Co., if +powder-burning was to be on the programme. They did try to pull their +guns, but I was too close. I spoiled their good intentions by kicking +one with all the force I could muster, and throwing my arms in a fervent +embrace about the neck of the other. + +A number eight box-toed riding-boot planted suddenly in the pit of one's +stomach brings about the same result as a kick from a vigorous Missouri +mule, I should imagine; anyway, that Mounted Policeman was eliminated as +a fighting unit from the instant my toe made connections with his +person. The other fellow and I went to the ground, and our struggle was +of short duration, for Mac bought into the ruction with his carbine for +a club, and under its soothing touch my wiry antagonist ceased from +troubling. I scrambled to my feet and glanced around. The corporal was +sprawled on the grass, his face to the sky. + +"We've burned our bridges now, sure as fate," Mac broke out. "Here, +I'll peel the guns off the bunch, and you lead their horses up to the +rock out of sight of these other fellows. If they catch sight of us +milling around here they're apt to swing over this way to see what's +up." + +I led the horses close to the boulder and left them standing there while +I hurried back. By that time the fellow I'd kicked had so far recovered +as to sit up, and the look he gave us was a scorcher. MacRae, with +cocked carbine to emphasize his command, ordered him to drag his comrade +to where the horses stood; and I followed after, lugging the insensible +corporal to the same shady place. + +"I want to know the how of this," Mac demanded of the trooper. "Who +issued orders for our arrest on this damn fool charge? And when?" + +"Lessard give us our orders," the Policeman growled. "He's been out with +a whole bloomin' troop ever since he got word the paymaster 'ad bin +stuck up. We got a commissary along, an' nooned about ten miles east o' +here. After dinner--about two or three hours ago--he lined us up an' +said as 'ow he'd got word that you two fellers 'ad bin identified as +bein' the chaps as pulled off that paymaster row, an' that he wanted +you. Said he 'ad reason t' believe you was some'ers between Lost River +an' the Stone, an' you was t' be captured without fail. An' that's all I +know about it," he concluded frankly, "except that you fellers is bloody +fools t' make a break like this. It'll go that much 'arder with +you--there ain't a bloomin' chance for you t' get away. You might just +as well give up peaceable." + +"Oh, don't preach," MacRae protested. "I know all that as well as you +do. Great Scott! Burky, you've known me ever since I joined; do you +imagine for a minute that I was in on that hold-up? Why, you know +better. If I'd done anything so damned rotten, I'd have been out of the +country long before this." + +"Orders is orders," Burky sententiously observed. "Headquarters sez +you're t' be took in, an' you'll be took in, no matter what a feller's +private opinion happens t' be. I ain't no bloomin' judge an' jury t' +set on your case, anyway. You'll get a square trial--same as everybody +gets. But you ain't a-helpin' yourself a-cuttin' of didoes like this." + +"I haven't time to go into details," Mac told him, "and I don't suppose +you'd believe me if I did. But I've a blamed good reason for not wanting +to put in several months cooling my heels under guard while the men that +got the stuff get clear out of the country. We're going to take two of +these horses, because we'll need them in our business; and we'll leave +your guns at that big rock down the ridge. I don't want to hurt you, +Burky, but if you start making signals to the rest of the bunch before +we get out of sight, you'll go back to Walsh feet first. So be good. +You'll see us again before long." + +When we were ready to mount, MacRae fired another question at Burky. +"Say, have you seen anything of Frank Hicks or Paul Gregory to-day?" + +"They was both in camp at noon," the trooper replied. + +"Huh! They were, eh?" MacRae swung up, and spoke from the saddle. "Well, +if you see them again, tell them we'll sure give them a hard run for +the money. And if you've got your month's pay on you, Burky, you'd +better keep your hand on it while those two pilgrims are about." + +We took the third horse along as a precautionary measure. At a boulder +down the ridge we left him, together with their belts, as Mac had +promised. The only bit of their property we kept besides the horses was +a pair of field-glasses--something that we knew would be priceless to +men who were practically outlawed. For the next two hours we slunk like +coyotes in coulée-bottoms and deep washouts, until we saw the commissary +wagon cross the ridge west of Lost River, saw from a safe distance the +brown specks that were riders, casting in wide circles for sight of us +or our trail. + +Then MacRae leaned over his saddle-horn and made a wry face at them. + +"Hunt, confound you," he said, almost cheerfully. "We'll give you some +hunting to do before you're through with us." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +A CLOSE CALL. + + +We were standing in a brushy pocket on the side of a hill, and as there +was no immediate danger of our being seen, MacRae continued, by the aid +of the glasses, to follow the movements of our would-be captors. + +"D'you know that plunder can't be far away; those fellows haven't had +much time to make their _cache_," he reflected, more to himself than to +me. "I wonder how they accounted to Lessard for us. Just think of +it--somewhere within twenty miles of us there's in the neighborhood of a +hundred thousand dollars of stolen money, planted till they can get it +safely; and the men that got away with it are helping the law to run us +down. That's a new feature of the case; one, I must say, that I didn't +look for." + +He lowered the glasses, and regarded me soberly. + +"They fight fire with fire in a grass country," he observed. "The +Mounted Police are a hard formation to buck against--but I've a mind to +see this thing to a finish. How do you feel about it, Sarge? Will you go +through?" + +"All the way and back again," I promised recklessly. I wasn't sure of +what he had in mind, but I knew _him_--and seeing that we were in the +same boat, I thought it fitting that we should sink or swim together. + +"We'll come out on top yet," he confidently asserted. "Meantime we'd +better locate some secluded spot and give our nags a chance to fill up +on grass and be fresh for to-morrow; we're apt to have a hard day." + +"It wouldn't be a bad scheme to fill ourselves at the same time," I +suggested. "I'm feeling pretty vacant inside. The first bunch of buffalo +that has a fat calf along is going to hear from me." + +"If we can get over this ridge without being seen, there's a canyon with +some cottonwoods and a spring in it. That will be as good a place to +hole up for the night as we can find," Mac decided. "And there will +likely be some buffalo near there." + +So we ascended cautiously to the top of the divide, keeping in the +coulées as much as possible, for we knew that other field-glasses would +be focused on the hills. Once over the crest, we halted and watched for +riders coming our way. But none appeared. Once I thought I glimpsed a +moving speck on the farther bank of Lost River. MacRae brought the +glasses to bear, and said it was two Policemen jogging toward camp. Then +we were sure that our flight had not been observed, and we dropped into +a depression that gradually deepened to a narrow-bottomed canyon. Two +miles down this we came to the spring of which MacRae had spoken, a tiny +stream issuing from a crevice at the foot of the bank. What was equally +important, a thick clump of cottonwood and willow furnished tolerably +secure concealment. + +The fates smiled on us in the matter of food very shortly. I'm not +enamored of a straight meat diet as a rule, but that evening I was in no +mood to carp at anything half-way eatable. While we were on our +stomachs gratefully stowing away a draught of the cool water, I heard a +buffalo bull lift his voice in challenge to another far down the canyon. +We tied our horses out of sight in the timber and stole in the direction +of the sound. A glorious bull-fight was taking place when we got within +shooting-distance, the cows and calves forming a noisy circle about the +combatants, each shaggy brown brute bawling with all the strength of +bovine lungs; in that pandemonium of bellowing and trampling I doubt if +the report of Mac's carbine could have been heard two hundred yards +away. The shot served to break up the fight and scatter the herd, +however, and we returned to the cottonwoods with the hind-quarter of a +fat calf. + +Hungry as we were, we could hardly bolt raw meat, so, taking it for +granted that no one was likely to ride up on us, we built a fire in the +grove, being careful to feed it with dry twigs that would make little +smoke. Over this we toasted bits of meat on the end of a splinter, and +presently our hunger was appeased. Then we blotted out the fire, and, +stretching ourselves on the ground, had recourse to the solace of +tobacco. + +The longer we laid there the more curious did I become as to what line +of action MacRae purposed to follow. He lay on his back, silent, staring +straight up at the bit of sky that showed through the branches above, +and I'd just reached the point of asking, when he sat up and forestalled +my questions. + +"This is going to be risky business, Sarge," he began. "But so far as I +can see, there is only one way that we can hope to get the thing +straightened out. If we can get hold of Hicks or Bevans, any one of the +four, in fact, I think we can _make_ him tell us all we need to know. +It's the only chance for you and Lyn to get your money back, and for me +to square myself." + +"I shouldn't think," I put in resentfully, "that you'd want to square +yourself, after the dirty way you've been treated. I'd as soon take to +herding sheep, or washing dirty clothes like a Chinaman, as be a member +of the Mounted Police if what I've seen in the last ten days is a fair +sample of what a man can expect." + +"Fiddlesticks!" Mac impatiently exclaimed. "You don't know what you're +talking about. I tell you a man in the Police, if he has any head at +all, can control his own destiny. You'll be a heap more sane when you +get that old, wild-west notion, that every man should be a law unto +himself, out of your head. I'll venture to say that the Northwest will +be a safer and more law-abiding place five years from now than south of +the line will be in twenty--and the men in red coats will make it so. +Why, I wouldn't miss helping tame this country for half a dozen such +scrapes as I'm in now. This is merely the result of a rotten spot in the +personnel, a rotten spot that will soon be cut out if things come about +logically; it isn't the fault of the system. There never was any great +movement in developing a new country that didn't have a quota of damned +rascals to eliminate from within itself. If you didn't have such a +perverted idea of independence, you'd see that I'm in no danger of +losing either my identity or my self-respect simply because I've become +a unit in a body of six hundred fighting-men. I don't intend to remain +in the insignificant-unit class." + +"Your intentions," I interrupted, "will cut a mighty small figure if +your friend Lessard gets hold of you in the next day or two." + +"That's the melancholy truth," he returned seriously. "I imagine we'd +get a pretty rough deal; in fact, I wouldn't be surprised if that troop +has received orders, by now, to shoot first and arrest afterward. Still, +I'm willing to gamble that if we rode into Fort Walsh and gave ourselves +up, it would only be a matter of a few weeks in the guardhouse for us +before the thing was cleared up." + +"Maybe," I responded skeptically. "If that's your belief, why don't you +act accordingly?" + +"Because, confound it, that's just where they want to get us," he +declared. "Once we were safely penned, they'll drift, and neither you +nor Lyn Rowan nor the government would ever lay eyes on that bundle of +money again. I have a theory--but what's vastly more important, I think +those fellows can hardly get out of the country with their plunder +without crossing trails with us. It was smooth business to set the dogs +on us. I don't quite _sabe_--well, I do, too. You can probably realize +just how headquarters would take the sort of yarn we'd spin if we dashed +in and told them the truth. But I think we're smart enough to upset +these fellows' calculations. Lord! wouldn't it be a stroke of business +if we could trap that collection of buccaneers? Frankly, that would be +the biggest thing that ever came my way." + +"It would be equally a stroke of business if they happen to trap us," I +reminded. + +"They won't," he asserted confidently. "We can't afford to let them. +We've inflicted a compound fracture on established law, and until we can +make the outcome justify our actions, we're compelled, in self-defense, +to avoid being caught. It may be a dubious undertaking, but as I see it +the only thing for us is to hang on the flank of these man-hunters till +we can lay hold of one of that red-handed quartette. According to Burky, +two of them, at least, are in that troop. Probably the others are. And +knowing that bunch as well as I do, I don't think they'll lift the +plunder and quit the country till they can go together. Even if we can't +get hold of one of them, we can keep track of their movements, and if +they _do_ lift their _cache_ and pull out, why, that would be as good as +we want. I wouldn't ask anything better than to get a fair chance at +that bunch with the stolen money on them." + +I'll admit that, soberly considered, MacRae's plan did look exceeding +risky. No one could appreciate better than ourselves the unpleasant +possibilities that stared us in the face. But things had narrowed to a +point where only two courses were open to us--one, to throw up our hands +and quit the jurisdiction of the Mounted Police, which involved +desertion on MacRae's part, and on mine a chicken-hearted abandonment of +La Pere's trust in me (for, rightly or wrongly, I was given over to the +feeling that on me alone rested the responsibility for the loss or +recovery of La Pere's money); the other, to take any measure, no matter +how desperate, that would unravel the tangle. All things considered, the +latter was the logical choice. And the plan Mac had put forth seemed as +feasible as any. + +"We'll have to proceed on the faro-bank formula that all bets go as they +lay," I said lightly. "There's no use anticipating things disagreeable +or otherwise; we'll simply have to take them as they come." + +By this time dusk was upon us. We picketed the horses in the open bottom +where grass was more plentiful than in the brush, and settled ourselves +to sleep. Fortunately, the aftermath of that blistering day was a fairly +warm night. By spreading over us the heavy woolen blankets the Mounted +Police use under their saddles, we slept in comfort. Long before dawn, +however, we arose, built a fire, and breakfasted on buffalo veal, at the +same time broiling a good supply and stowing it in our pockets to serve +the rest of the day. Then, with darkness still obscuring our movements, +we saddled and rode over the ridge and down into Lost River, crossing +that ancient waterway before the first glimmer of light in the east. + +Day found us dismounted in the head of a coulée where we could spy on +the Police camp from a distance of three miles, more or less. About +sunrise the troop left camp in a body, later spreading fanwise over the +prairies. Once a party trotted by within a half-mile of us, but no one +of the four men we wanted to see was in the squad. + +Until after the noon hour we laid _perdu_ in the hollow, no wiser for +our watching. Then I saw a number of riders debouch from the camp, and +at once trained the glasses on them. At first I couldn't distinguish any +particular face among so many shifting forms, but presently they split +in two bodies, and these again subdivided; and in the bunch coming +toward us I recognized three men, Lessard, unmistakable in his black +uniform, Hicks, and Bevans. I turned the glasses over to MacRae then. + +"I thought probably some more of our friends would show up," he said, +after a quick survey. "With those two in sight the chances are that all +four are with the troop. The other fellows in that squad are just plain +buck Policemen. Confound them, I wish----Aha, by Jupiter! the big chief +is turning off those two." + +As Mac spoke I saw the two men I had spotted as Hicks and Bevans swing +away from the rest and angle toward Lost River. From our vantage point +we watched them come abreast and pass us at a distance well within a +mile. The others turned south, directly away from us. + +"Now," Mac coolly declared, "here's where we get the chance we want, if +we're lucky. We'll keep parallel with these gentlemen, and if they get +out of touch with the rest we'll make a try at nailing them. Be careful, +though, how you show yourself; there's at least fifty of these +peacemakers within four or five miles, and a shot or a yell will bring +them on a high run." + +Hicks and Bevans, whatever their destination, were in no haste. They +rode at a walk most of the time, and we were forced to keep the same +pace. It was slow work poking along those coulée-bottoms, now and then +making a risky sneak to ground, whence we could get a clear view of the +game we were stalking so assiduously. + +Progressing in this manner we finally reached the breaks that ran down +to Lost River, not a great distance from where MacRae and I had kicked +over the traces of legally constituted authority the previous day. Here +we had to dodge over a stretch of ground barren of concealment, and to +do so waited till such time as Hicks and Bevans were themselves in the +depths of a coulée. + +When next we caught sight of our men--well, to be exact, we saw only +one, and that was Bevans. He had stopped his horse on top of a knoll not +more than four hundred yards to the north of us, and was standing up in +his stirrups staring over the ears of his horse at a point down the +slope. Hicks had disappeared. Nor did we see aught of him during the +next few minutes that we spent glaring at Bevans and the surrounding +territory. + +"I wonder if that square-jawed devil has got a glimpse of us and is +trying a lone-handed stalk himself?" I hazarded. + +MacRae shook his head. "Not likely," he said. "If it was Paul Gregory, +now, that's the very thing he'd do. I don't quite _sabe_ this +performance." + +We watched for sign of Hicks, but without result. Then Bevans got under +way and moved along at the same poky gait as before. When he had gone +some distance we took to the hollow. Twenty minutes jogging brought us +into a stretch of rough country, a series of knobs and ridges cut by +innumerable coulées. Here it became necessary to locate Mr. Bevans +again. Once more he was revealed on top of an elevation, studying the +surrounding landscape, and he was still alone. + +"Where the mischief can Hicks have got to?" Mac growled. "We really +ought to smell him out before we do anything." + +"Look, now," I said. "Don't you suppose Bevans is waiting for him?" + +Bevans had dismounted and stretched himself on the ground in the shade +of his horse. But he was not napping; on the contrary, he was very much +on the alert, for his head turned slowly from side to side, quiescent as +he seemed; there would be little movement pass unobserved within range +of that pair of eyes. + +"Maybe he is," MacRae replied. "Anyhow, I think we'd better wait a while +ourselves." + +For nearly an hour Bevans kept his position. Hicks, if he were in the +vicinity, kept closely under cover. Bevans had all the best of the +situation, so far as being able to keep a lookout was a factor; the +opposite bank of the coulée we were in towered high above us, and shut +off our view in that direction. And we didn't dare risk showing +ourselves on high ground. Finally, after what seemed an interminable +period of waiting, Mac's patience frazzled out and he declared for +action. + +"We're doing no good here," he said. "Hicks or no Hicks, I'm going to +have a try at making connections with his nibs on that hill. I think the +coulée right under his perch is an arm of the one we're in; runs in +somewhere below. Maybe we can get to him that way. It's worth trying." + +As MacRae had surmised, our canyon forked below. We turned the point +after making sure that Bevans couldn't see us unless he moved. But the +uncertain beggar had moved, and moved to some purpose we quickly +learned; for when we next laid eyes on him he was out on the extreme +point of the little bench, opposite the mouth of the coulée we had +ascended, whirling his horse about in cramped circles. And in answer to +his signaling a full score of red-jacketed riders were galloping down +the ridges, a human comb that bade fair to rake us from our concealment +in a scant number of minutes. + +"Looks bad for you and me, old boy," MacRae grinned. "I see now what +brother Hicks has been up to. But they haven't got us yet. Whatever +happens, Sarge, don't get excited and go to shooting. We can't win out +that way, against this combination. If we can't dodge and outrun them +we'll have to take our medicine. Down the coulée is our only chance. +There's only Bevans to stop us; and it won't really matter if we do put +his light out--be one thief less at the finish." + +Bevans, however, made no demonstration. We just got a mere glimpse of +him, and I imagine he was nowise anxious to try heading us off, which he +could not do without coming into the open. Whipping around the crooked +bends at top speed, he had little chance to pot us, and I think he had +an idea that we would cheerfully pot him if he got in the way. + +We mystified them somewhat, and gained considerable ground, by that +sudden dash, but it wasn't long before they were in full cry like a pack +of hounds, and the carbines began to pop in a futile sort of way. Mac +had not been far astray when he hazarded the guess that the troop would +have orders to shoot on sight, for they began to peck at us the moment +we came in view. We had just enough of a start, though, and our mounts +were just good enough and fresh enough to gradually draw away from them. +And as we were then out of the network of protecting coulées and +pattering over the comparative level of Lost River bottoms, I was very +glad that we were beyond carbine-range and that it was near sundown. + +"Barring accidents, they can't get up on us now," Mac declared. "So I +think it'll be wise to keep south along the open bottoms. If they see us +splitting the breeze down Lost River, they won't look for us to bob up +from the opposite quarter to-morrow. When it gets dark and we're far +enough ahead, we can swing into the hills. That'll fool them plenty for +to-night. They'll probably try tracking us to-morrow, but I reckon +they'll find that a tough job." + +They kept persistently after us, and we were more or less on the anxious +seat, till it did get dark. Then we turned sharp to the left and gained +high ground once more, congratulating ourselves on so easily getting out +of a ticklish place. If we hadn't moved up on Bevans they might have +surrounded us before we got wind of them. But we'd beaten them fairly, +and so we looked back through the dark and laughed; though I'm sure we +had no particular cause for merriment. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +PIEGAN TAKES A HAND. + + +I don't believe a detailed account of how we spent that night would be +classed as wildly interesting; if memory serves me right, it was a +bleak, hungry, comfortless passage of time, and I am willing to let it +go at that. We managed to secure a buffalo steak for breakfast. No man +needed to starve in that country during those days of plentiful game; +but we were handicapped by the necessity of doing our hunting in a very +surreptitious manner. However, we didn't starve; the worst we +experienced was an occasional period of acute hunger, when we didn't +dare fire a shot for fear of revealing our whereabouts. + +Nor can I see, now, where we accomplished anything beyond killing time +the following day. To be sure, we scouted faithfully, and once or twice +came perilously near being caught by squads of Mounted Police appearing +from unexpected quarters. Our scouting was so much wasted energy. We got +nowhere near the Police camp; we failed to get a glimpse of any of our +men; and so, for all we knew to the contrary, they might have loaded the +plunder and decamped for other regions. When night again spread its +concealing folds about us, we had only one tangible fact as a reward for +our exertions--Lessard had returned to Fort Walsh--presumably. Early +that morning, escorted by four troopers, he had crossed Lost River and +disappeared in the direction of the post. Of his identity the +field-glasses assured us. But that was the sum total of our acquired +knowledge, and it brought us no nearer the breaking up of the +Goodell-Gregory combination or the recovery of the loot. + +So for a third night we were compelled to seek sanctuary in the silent +canyons. And the third day brought us no better luck. At evening we were +constrained to admit that we were simply butting our heads against a +wall--with an ever-present possibility of the wall toppling over and +crushing us flat. + +Altogether, we spent five consecutive days hovering around that +collection of law-enforcers, in imminent risk of capture. Each night in +the open was more cheerless than the preceding one, and each day brought +the same sense of futile effort at its close. Twice during that time the +Police camp moved, and we had to be wary, for they scoured the +surrounding territory with painstaking thoroughness. But we felt that +there was yet a chance for us to turn the tables, for Goodell was still +with the troop, and also Gregory; we saw them both the morning of the +fifth day. + +"It beats me why they're pecking around over the same ground so much," +Mac observed. "I suppose they're looking for us, but I'm pretty sure +they haven't had a glimpse of us for three days, and so I don't see why +they should think we're still hanging around. Logically, if we'd got +that bunch of money, we'd be getting out of the country. Lord, I do wish +those four would show their hand--make a move of some kind." + +"So do I," I seconded. "We're not doing much good that I can see. And I +think I could play the game with a heap more enthusiasm if I had some +coffee and white bread under my belt once or twice a day. We'll go +hungry, and likewise get a devilish good soaking to-night, or I'm badly +mistaken." + +We had checked our horses on the summit of the divide that ran down to +Lost River on one side and on the other sloped away to the southeast. +The wind that was merely a breath at sundown had gathered strength to +itself and now swept across the hill-tops with a resonant roar, piling +layer on layer of murky low-flying clouds into a dense mass overhead. +Night, black as the bottomless pit, walled us in. A fifty-mile breeze +lashed us spitefully, tugging at our shirt-sleeves and drowning our +voices, while we halted on that pinnacle. By the dank breath of the +wind, the ominous overcasting of the sky, all the little signs that a +prairie-wise man learns to read, we knew that a storm was close at hand. +Shelter there was none, nor food, and we stood in need of both. + +"You're right," MacRae admitted. "But how are we going to help it? +We'll just have to grin and tough it out." + +"I'll tell you how we'll help it," I proposed recklessly, shouting to +make myself heard above the noisy wind. "We can go down and tackle that +bull-train we saw pulling along the foot of the ridge. They'll know +we're on the dodge, but that won't make any difference to them. I know +nearly every bull-whacker that freights out of Benton, and they're a +pretty white bunch. If it's Baker's outfit, especially, we'll be welcome +as flowers in May. You said they'd likely camp at that spring--Ten Mile, +isn't it? What d'ye think? Shall we go down and take a chance? I sure +don't like the look of things up here. It's going to be a rip-snorter of +a night, once it cuts loose." + +"I'm ready to go against nearly anything, right now," MacRae frankly +owned. "If you think it's worth trying, why, it's a go with me." + +"Let's drift, then," I declared; and straightway we turned our horses +broadside to the wind and tore away for Ten Mile Spring and the +creature comforts I knew were to be had at the white-sheeted wagons we +saw crawling slowly along the Stony Crossing trail late that afternoon. + +As Mac had calculated, the freight-train was camped at the Spring; and +it was a mighty good thing for us that MacRae knew that country so well +or we would never have found them, short of riding our horses to a +standstill. Long before we got there the deep-throated thunder was +growling over us, and the clouds spat occasional flurries of rain. + +We made the freight camp, however, just as the storm cut loose in deadly +earnest. Luckily for me, it was Baker's outfit. I took a long chance, +and stalked boldly in. And here I was treated to a surprise, one that +afforded both MacRae and me considerable food for thought; Horner, the +wagon-boss, a man I knew well, frankly declared that no one at Fort +Walsh had heard that we were accused of robbery and murder. For that +matter, he said, he didn't care a tinker's dam if we were; he had grub +and bedding and we were welcome to both. + +So with this assurance of good-will we picketed our horses close by the +circle of wagons--where we could get to them quickly should any of +Lessard's troop happen into the camp--and prepared to devour the supper +Horner's good-natured cook bestirred himself to make ready. As we filled +our plates and squatted under the canvas that sheltered the cook's +Dutch-oven layout, a man under the hind end of the chuck-wagon propped +himself on elbow and shouted greeting to us. In the semi-dark I couldn't +see his face, but I recognized the voice. It was our friend of the +whisky-keg episode, Piegan Smith. + +"Hello, thar, fellers!" he bellowed (Piegan always spoke to a man as if +he were a hundred yards away). "Say, Flood, yuh ain't been t' Benton an' +back already, have yuh?" + +"Faith, no," I owned, between mouthfuls, "and it's hard telling when I +will get there. How come you to be pacing along this trail, Piegan? Gone +to freighting in your old age?" + +"Not what yuh could notice, I ain't," he snorted. "Catch _me_ whackin' +bulls for a livin'! Naw, I sold my outfit to a goggle-eyed pilgrim that +has an idea buffalo hides is prime all summer. So I'm headed for Benton +to see if I kain't stir up a little excitement now an' then, to pass +away the time till the fall buffalo-run begins." + +"If you're looking for excitement, Piegan," MacRae put in dryly, "you'd +better come along with us. We'll introduce you to more different brands +of it in the next few days than Benton could furnish in six months." + +"Maybe," Piegan laughed. "But not the brand I'm a-thirstin' for." + +Mac was on the point of replying when there came a most unexpected +interruption. I looked up at sound of a startled exclamation, and beheld +the round African physog of Lyn Rowan's colored mammy. But she had no +eyes for me; she stood like a black statue just within the firelight, a +tin bucket in one hand, staring over my head at MacRae. + +"Lawd a-me!" she gulped out. "Ef Ah ain't sho'ly laid mah ol' eyes on +Marse Go'don. Is dat sho' 'nuf yo', wid yo' red coat an' all?" + +"It sure is, Mammy," Mac answered. "How does it happen you're traveling +this way? I thought you were at Fort Walsh. Is Miss Lyn along?" + +"She suttinly am," Mammy Thomas emphatically asserted. "Yo' doan catch +dis chile a-mosyin' obeh dese yeah plains by huh lonesome. Since dey +done brought Miss Lyn's paw in an' planted him, she say dey ain't no use +foh huh to stay in dis yeah redcoat country no longer; so we all packed +up an' sta'ted back foh de lan' ob de free." + +MacRae, I am sure, was no more than half through his meal. But he +swallowed the coffee in his cup, and tossed his eating-implements into +the cook's wash-pan. + +"I'll go with you, Mammy," he told her. "I want to see Miss Lyn myself." + +"Jes' a minute, Marse Go'don," she said. "Ah's got to git some wa'm +watah f'om dis yeah Mr. Cook." + +The cook signaled her to help herself from the kettle that bubbled over +the fire, and she filled her bucket and disappeared, chattering volubly, +MacRae at her heels. + +I finished my supper more deliberately. There was no occasion for me to +gobble my food and rush off to talk with Lyn Rowan. MacRae, I suspected, +would be inclined to monopolize her for the rest of the evening. So I +ate leisurely, and when done crawled under the wagon beside Piegan Smith +and gave myself up to cigarettes and meditation, while over his pipe +Piegan expressed a most unflattering opinion of the weather. + +It was a dirty night, beyond question; one that gave color to Piegan's +prophesy that Milk River would be out of its banks if the storm held +till morning, and that Baker's freight-train would be stalled by mud and +high water for three or four days. I was duly thankful for the shelter +we had found. A tarpaulin stretched from wheel to wheel of the wagon +shut out the driving rain that fled in sheets before the whooping wind. +The lightning-play was hidden behind the drifting cloud-bank, for no +glint of it penetrated the gloom; but the cavernous thunder-bellow +roared intermittently, and a fury of rain drove slantwise against sodden +earth and creaking wagon-tops. + +If the next two hours were as slow in passing, to MacRae and Lyn, as +they seemed to me, the two of them had time to dissect and discuss the +hopes and fears and errors of their whole existence, and formulate a new +philosophy of life. Piegan broke a long silence to remark sagely that if +Mac was putting in all this time talking to that "yaller-headed fairy," +he was a plumb good stayer. + +"They're old friends," I told him. "Mac knew her long ago; and all her +people." + +"Well, he's in darned agreeable company," Piegan observed. "She's a +mighty fine little woman, far's I've seen. I dunno's I'd know when t' +jar loose m'self, if I knowed her an' she didn't object t' me hangin' +around. But seein' we ain't in on the reception, we might as well get +under the covers, eh? I reckon most everybody in camp's turned in." + +Piegan had a bulky roll of bedding under the wagon. Spread to its full +width, it was ample for three ordinary men. We had just got out of our +outside garments and were snuggling down between the blankets when Mac +came slopping through the puddles that were now gathering in every +depression. He crawled under the wagon, shed some of his clothing, and +got into bed with us. But he didn't lie down until he had rolled a +cigarette, and then instead of going to sleep he began talking to +Piegan, asking what seemed to me a lot of rather trifling questions. I +was nearly worn out, and their conversation was nowise interesting to +me, so listening to the monotonous drone of their voices and the steady +beat of falling rain, I went to sleep. + +Before a great while I wakened; to speak truthfully, the ungentle voice +of Piegan Smith brought me out of dreamland with a guilty start. MacRae +was still sitting up in bed, and from that part of his speech which +filtered into my ears I gathered that he was recounting to Piegan the +tale of our adventures during the past week. I thought that odd, for Mac +was a close-mouthed beggar as a general thing; but there was no valid +reason why he should not proclaim the story from the hill-tops if he +chose, so I rolled over and pulled the blankets above my head--to +protect my ear-drums if Piegan's astonishment should again find verbal +expression. + +The cook's battle-cry of "Grub _pi-i-ile_" wakened me next. A thin line +of yellowish-red in the east betokened the birth of another day, a day +born in elemental turmoil, for the fierce wind was no whit abated, nor +the sullen, driving rain. + +"I've enlisted a recruit," MacRae told me in an undertone, as we ate +breakfast. "It struck me that if we had somebody along that we could +trust to ride into that Police camp with his mouth shut and his ears and +eyes open, we might find out something that would show us how the land +lay; even if he accomplished nothing else, he could learn if those +fellows are still with the troop." + +"That was why you were making that talk to Piegan last night, was it?" I +said. "Well, from what little I've seen and heard of him, he'd be a +whole team if he's willing to throw in with us and take a chance." Which +was perfectly true. Old Piegan had the reputation, on both sides of the +line, of loving to jump into a one-sided fight for the pure joy of +evening up the odds. He was a boisterous, rough-spoken mortal, but his +heart was big, and set in the right place. And, though I didn't know it +then, he had a grouch against Hicks, who had once upon a time run him +into Fort Walsh in irons on an unjustified suspicion of whisky-running. +That was really what started Piegan in the smuggling business--a desire +to play even, after getting what he called a "damn rough deal." + +"He's willing enough," Mac assured me. "Aside from the fact that most +any white man would go out of his way to help a girl like Lyn Rowan, +there's the certainty that the Canadian government will be pretty +generous to anybody who helps round up that crooked bunch and restore +the stolen money. Piegan snorted when I told him we were on the +dodge--that they were trying to nail us for holding up the paymaster. +That's the rottenest part of the whole thing. I think--but then we've +got to do more than think to get ourselves out of this jackpot." + +He stopped abruptly, and went on with his breakfast. By the time we were +done eating, the gray light of a bedraggled morning revealed tiny lakes +in every hollow, and each coulée and washout was a miniature torrent of +muddy water--with a promise of more to come in the murky cloud-drift +that overcast the sky. Horner sent out two men to relieve the +night-herders, remarked philosophically "More rain, more rest," and +retired to the shelter of the cook's canvas. His drivers sought cover in +and under the wagons, where they had spent the night. But though mud and +swollen streams might hold back the cumbrous freight outfit, it did not +follow that heavy going would delay the flitting of the thieves, if they +planned such a move; nor would it prevent the Mounted Police from +descending on the Baker outfit if they thought we had taken refuge +there. So we held council of war with Piegan, after which we saddled up +and made ready to tackle the soaked prairies. + +While we were packing grub and bedding on Piegan's extra horse, Lyn +joined us, wrapped from head to heel in a yellow slicker. And by the way +Mac greeted her I knew that they had bridged that gap of five years to +their mutual satisfaction; that she was loath to see him set out on a +hazardous mission she presently made plain. + +"Let it go, Gordon," she begged. "There's been too much blood shed over +that wretched gold already. Let them have it. I know something dreadful +will happen if you follow it up." + +MacRae smiled and shook his head stubbornly. "I'm too deep in, little +woman, to quit now," he told her patiently. "If it was only a matter of +your money, we could get along without it. But Sarge stands to lose a +lot, if we give up at this stage of the game. And besides, I'd always be +more or less on the dodge if this thing isn't cleared up. I've got to +see it through. You wouldn't have me sneak out of this country like a +whipped pup, would you? There's too big an account to settle with those +fellows, Lyn; it's up to us, if we're men. I can't draw back now, till +it's settled for good and all, one way or the other." + +[Illustration: "THERE'S BEEN TOO MUCH BLOOD SHED OVER THAT WRETCHED GOLD +ALREADY. LET THEM HAVE IT." + +_Page 212._] + +"Oh, I know how you feel about it," she sighed. "But even if it comes +out all right, you're still tied here. You know they won't let you go." + +"Don't you worry about that," he comforted. "I'll cross that bridge fast +enough when I come to it. You go on to Benton, like a good girl. I feel +it in my bones that we're going to have better luck from now on. And if +we do, you'll see us ride down the Benton hill one of these fine +mornings. Anyway, I'll send you word by Piegan before long." + +Piegan was already mounted, watching us whimsically from under the +dripping brim of his hat. I shook hands with Lyn, and swung into my +saddle. And when Mac had kissed her, we crowded through a gap in the +circle of wagons, waved a last good-by, and rode away in the steadily +falling rain. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +IN THE CAMP OF THE ENEMY. + + +From then until near noon we worked our passage if ever men did. On the +high benches it was not so bad for the springy, porous turf soaked up +the excessive moisture and held its firmness tolerably well. But every +bank of any steepness meant a helter-skelter slide to its foot, with +either a bog-hole or swimming water when we got there, and getting up +the opposite hill was like climbing a greased pole--except that there +was no purse at the top to reward our perseverance. Between the +succeeding tablelands lay gumbo flats where the saturated clay hung to +the feet of our horses like so much glue, or opened under hoof-pressure +and swallowed them to the knees. So that our going was slow and +wearisome. + +About mid-day the storm gradually changed from unceasing downpour to +squally outbursts, followed by banks of impenetrable fog that would +shut down on us solidly for a few minutes, then vanish like the good +intentions of yesterday; the wind switched a few points and settled to a +steady gale which lashed the spent clouds into hurrying ships of the +air, scudding full-sail before the droning breeze. Before long little +patches of blue began to peep warily through narrow spaces above. The +wind-blown rain-makers lost their leaden hue and became a soft +pearl-gray, all fleecy white around the edges. Then bars of warm +sunshine poured through the widening rifts and the whole rain-washed +land lay around us like a great checker-board whereon black +cloud-shadows chased each other madly over prairies yellow with the hot +August sun and gray-green in the hollows where the grass took on a new +lease of life. + +That night we camped west of Lost River, lying prudently in a +brush-grown coulée, for we were within sight of the Police camp--by +grace of the field-glasses. At sundown the ground had dried to such a +degree that a horse could lift foot without raising with it an abnormal +portion of the Northwest. The wind veered still farther to the south, +blowing strong and warm, sucking greedily the surplus moisture from the +saturated earth. So we resolved ourselves into a committee of ways and +means and decided that since the footing promised to be normal in the +morning the troop would likely scatter out, might even move camp, and +therefore it behooved us to get in touch with them at once; accordingly +Piegan rode away to spend the night in the Police tents, with a tale of +horses strayed from Baker's outfit to account for his wandering. From +our nook in the ridge he could easily make it by riding a little after +dark. + +"Goodell and Gregory and Hicks you know," said MacRae. "Bevans is a +second edition of Hicks, only not so tall by two or three inches--a +square-shouldered, good-looking brute, with light hair and steel-gray +eyes and a short brown mustache. He has an ugly scar--a +knife-cut--across the back of one hand; you can't mistake him if you get +sight of him. Stick around the camp in the morning if you can manage it, +till they start, and notice which way all those fellows go. The sooner +we get our hands on one or more of them the better we'll be able to get +at the bottom of this; I reckon we could find a way to make him talk. Of +course, if anything out of the ordinary comes up you'll have to use your +own judgment; you know just as much as we do, now. And we'll wait here +for you unless they jump us up. In that case we'll try and round up +somewhere between here and Ten Mile." + +"Right yuh are, old-timer," Piegan responded. "I'll do the best I can. +Yuh want t' keep your eye glued t' that peep-glass in the mornin', and +not overlook no motions. Yuh kain't tell what might come up. So-long!" +And away he went. + +When he was gone from sight we built a tiny fire in the scrub--for it +was twilight, at which time keen eyes are needed to detect either smoke +or fire, except at close range--and cooked our supper. That done, we +smothered what few embers remained and laid us down to sleep. That +wasn't much of a success, however. We had got into action again, with +more of a chance to bring about certain desired results, and inevitably +we laid awake reckoning up the chances for and against a happy +conclusion to our little expedition. + +"It's a wonder," I said, as the thought occurred to me, "that Lyn quit +Walsh so soon. Why didn't she stay a while longer and see if these +famous preservers of the peace wouldn't manage to gather in the men who +killed her father? Why, hang it! she didn't even wait to see if you +found that stuff at the Stone--and Lessard must have told her that +somebody had gone to look for it." + +Mac snapped out an oath in the dark. "Lessard simply lost his head," he +growled. "Damn him! He told her that he had sent us to look for it, and +that we had taken advantage of the opportunity to rob the paymaster. Oh, +he painted us good and black, I tell you. Then he had the nerve to ask +her to marry him. And he was so infernally insistent about it, that she +was forced to pull up and get away from the post in self-defense. That's +why she left so suddenly." + +Well, I couldn't find it in my heart to blame Lessard for that last, so +long as he acted the gentleman about it. In fact, it was to be expected +of almost any man who happened to be thrown in contact with Lyn Rowan +for any length of time. I can't honestly lay claim to being absolutely +immune myself; only my attack had come years earlier, and had not been +virulent enough to make me indulge in any false hopes. It's no crime for +an unattached man to care for a woman; but naturally, MacRae would be +prejudiced against any one who laid siege to a castle he had marked for +his own. I had disliked that big, autocratic major, too, from our first +meeting, but it was pure instinctive antipathy on my part, sharpened, +perhaps, by his outrageous treatment of MacRae. + +We dropped the subject forthwith. Lessard's relation to the problem was +a subject we had so far shied around. It was beside the point to indulge +in footless theory. We knew beyond a doubt who were the active agents in +every blow that had been struck, and the first move in the tangle we +sought to unravel was to lay hands on them, violently if necessary, and +through them recover the stolen money. Only by having that in our +possession--so MacRae argued--could we hope to gain credible hearing, +and when that was accomplished whatever part Lessard had played would +develop of itself. + +By and by, my brain wearied with fruitless speculation, I began to doze, +and from then till daylight I slept in five-minute snatches. + +Dawn brought an access of caution, and we forbore building a fire. Our +horses, which we had picketed in the open overnight, we saddled and tied +out of sight in the brush. Then we ate a cold breakfast and betook +ourselves to the nearest hill-top, where, screened by a huddle of rocks, +we could watch for the coming of Piegan Smith; and, incidentally, keep +an eye on the redcoat camp, though the distance was too great to observe +their movements with any degree of certainty. The most important thing +was to avoid letting a bunch of them ride up on us unheralded. + +"They're not setting the earth afire looking for anybody," Mac declared, +when the sun was well started on its ante-meridian journey and there +was still no sign of riders leaving the cluster of tents. "Ah, there +they go." + +A squad of mounted men in close formation, so that their scarlet jackets +stood out against the dun prairie like a flame in the dark, rode away +from the camp, halted on the first hill an instant, then scattered +north, south, and west. After that there was no visible stir around the +white-sheeted commissary. + +"They're not apt to disturb us if they keep going the opposite +direction," Mac reflected, his eyes conning them through the glasses. +"And neither do they appear to be going to move camp. Therefore, we'll +be likely to see Piegan before long." + +But it was some time ere we laid eyes on that gentleman. We didn't see +him leaving the camp--which occasioned us no uneasiness, because a lone +rider could very well get away from there unseen by us, especially if he +was circumspect in his choice of routes, as Piegan would probably be. +Only when two hours had dragged by, and then two more, did we begin to +get anxious. I was lying on my back, staring up at the sky, all sorts +of possible misfortune looming large on my mental horizon, when MacRae, +sweeping the hills with the glasses, grunted satisfaction, and I turned +my head in time to see Piegan appear momentarily on high ground a mile +to the south of us. + +"What's he doing off there?" I wondered. "Do you suppose somebody's +following him, that he thinks it necessary to ride clear around us?" + +"Hardly; but you can gamble that he isn't riding for his health," Mac +responded. "Anyway, you'll soon know; he's turning." + +Piegan swung into the coulée at a fast lope, and we stole carefully down +to meet him. In the brush that concealed our horses Piegan dismounted, +and, seating himself tailor-fashion on the ground, began to fill his +pipe. + +"First thing," said he, "we're a little behind the times. Your birds has +took wing and flew the coop." + +"Took wing--how? And when?" we demanded. + +"You'll _sabe_ better, I reckon, if I tell yuh just how I made out," +Piegan answered, after a pause to light his pipe. "When I got there last +night they was most all asleep. But this mornin' I got a chance to size +up the whole bunch, and nary one uh them jaspers I wanted t' see was in +sight. So whilst we was eatin' breakfast I begins t' quiz, an', one way +an' another, lets on I wanted t' see that Injun scout. One feller up an' +tells me he guess I'll find the breed at Fort Walsh, most likely. After +a while I hears more talk, an' by askin' a few innocent questions I gets +next t' some more. Puttin' this an' that together, this here's the way +she stacks up: Lessard, as you fellers took notice, went in t' Walsh, +takin' several men with him, Gregory bein' among the lot. He leaves +orders that these fellers behind are t' comb the country till he calls +'em off. Yesterday mornin', in the thick uh the storm, a buck trooper +arrives from Walsh, bearin' instructions for Goodell, Hicks an' another +feller, which I reckon is Bevans. So when she clears up a little along +towards noon, these three takes a packadero layout an' starts, +presumable for Medicine Lodge. An' that's all I found out from the +Policemen." + +"Scattered them around the country, eh?" Mac commented. "Damn it, we're +just as far behind as ever." + +"Hold your hosses a minute," Piegan grinned knowingly. "I said that was +all I found out from the red jackets--but I did a little prognosticatin' +on my own hook. I figured that if them fellers hit the trail yesterday +afternoon as soon as the storm let up, they'd make one hell of a good +plain track in this sloppy goin' an' I was curious t' see if they lit +straight for the Lodge. So when the bunch got out quite a ways, I quits +the camp an' swings round in a wide circle--an' sure enough they'd left +their mark. Three riders an' two pack-hosses. Easy trackin'? Well, I +should say! They'd cut a trail in them doby flats like a bunch uh +gallopin' buffalo. Say, where _is_ Medicine Lodge?" + +"Oh, break away, Piegan," Mac impatiently exclaimed. "What are you +trying to get at? You know where the Lodge is as well as I do." + +"Well, I always thought I knowed where 'twas," Piegan retorted +spiritedly, a wicked twinkle in his shrewd old eyes. "But it must 'a' +changed location lately, for them fellers rode north a ways, an' then +kept swingin' round till they was headin' due southeast. I follered +their trail t' where yuh seen me turn this way, if yuh was watchin'. +Poor devils"--Piegan grinned covertly while voicing this mock +sympathy--"they must 'a' got lost, I reckon. It really ain't safe for +such pilgrims t' be cavortin' over the prairies with all that boodle in +their jeans. I reckon we'll just naturally have t' pike along after 'em +an' take care of it ourselves. They ain't got such a rip-roarin' start +of us--an' I'm the boy can foller that track from hell t' breakfast an' +back again. So let's eat a bite, an' then straddle our _caballos_ for +some tall ridin'." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +A MASTER-STROKE OF VILLAINY. + + +Piegan shortly proved that he made no vain boast when he asserted his +ability to follow their track. A lifetime on the plains, and a natural +fitness for the life, had made him own brother to the Indian in the +matter of nosing out dim trails. The crushing of a tuft of grass, a +broken twig, all the half-hidden signs that the feet of horses and men +leave behind, held a message for him; nothing, however slight, escaped +his eagle eye. And he did it subconsciously, without perceptible effort. +The surpassing skill of his tracking did not strike me forcibly at +first, for I can read an open trail as well as the average cowman, and +the mark of their passing lay plain before us; the veriest pilgrim, new +come from graded roads and fenced pastures, could have counted the +number of their steps--each hoof had stamped its impression in the soft +loam as clearly as a steel die-cut in soaked leather. But that was where +they had ridden while the land was still plastic from the rain. Farther, +wind and sun had dried the ridge-turf to its normal firmness and baked +the dobe flats till in places they were of their old flinty hardness. +Yet Piegan crossed at a lope places where neither MacRae nor I could +glimpse a sign--and when we would come again to soft ground the trail of +the three would rise up to confront us, and bid us marvel at the +keenness of his vision. He had a gift that we lacked. + +We followed in the wake of Piegan Smith with what speed the +coulée-gashed prairie permitted, and about three o'clock halted for half +an hour to let our horses graze; we had been riding steadily over four +hours, and it behooved us to have some thought for our mounts. Within +ten minutes of starting again we dipped into a wide-bottomed coulée and +came on the place where the three had made their first night-camp--a +patch of dead ashes, a few half-burned sticks, and the close-cropped +grass-plots where each horse had circled a picket-pin. + +Beyond these obvious signs, there was nothing to see. Nothing, at least, +that I could see except faint tracks leading away from the spot. These +we had followed but a short distance when Piegan, who was scrutinizing +the ground with more care than he had before shown, pulled up with an +exclamation. + +"Blamed if they ain't got company, from the look uh things," he grunted, +squinting down. "I thought that was considerable of a trail for them t' +make. You fellers wait here a minute. I want t' find out which way them +tracks come in." + +He loped back, swinging in north of the campground. While he was gone, +MacRae and I leaned over in our saddles and scanned closely the +grass-carpeted bottom-land. That the hoofs of passing horses had pressed +down the rank growth of grass was plain enough, but whether the hoofs of +six or a dozen we could only guess. Piegan turned, rode to where they +had built their fire, circled the place, then came back to us. + +"All right," he said. "I was sure there was more livestock left that +campin'-place than we followed in. They come from the north--four +hosses, two uh them rode an' the other two led, I think, from the way +they heaved around a-crossin' a washout back yonder." + +A mile or so farther we crossed a bare sandy stretch on the flat bottom +of another coulée, and on its receptive surface the trail lay like a +printed page--nine distinct, separate horse-tracks. + +"Five riders an' four extra hosses, if I ain't read the sign wrong," +Piegan casually remarked. "Say, we'll have our hands full if we bump +into this bunch unexpected, eh?" + +"They'll make short work of us if they get half a chance," Mac agreed. +"But we'll make it a surprise party if we can." + +From there on Piegan set a pace that taxed our horses' mettle--that was +one consolation--we were well mounted. All three of us were good for a +straightaway chase of a hundred miles if it came to a showdown. Piegan +knew that we must do our trailing in daylight, and rode accordingly. He +kept their trail with little effort, head cocked on one side like a +saucy meadowlark, and whistled snatches of "Hell Among the Yearlin's," +as though the prospect of a sanguinary brush with thieves was pleasing +in the extreme. + +The afternoon was on its last lap when we came in sight of Stony +Crossing. The trail we followed wound along the crest of a ridge midway +between the Crossing and Ten Mile Spring, where we had left Baker's +outfit that rainy morning. The freighters had moved camp, but the mud +and high water had held them, for we could see the white-sheeted wagons +and a blur of cattle by the cottonwood grove where Hank Rowan had made +his last stand. Presently we crossed the trail made by the string of +wagons; it was fresh; made that morning, I judged. A little farther, on +a line between the Crossing and the Spring, Piegan pulled up again, and +this time the cause of his halting needed no explanation. The bunch had +stopped and tarried there a few minutes, as the jumbled hoof-marks bore +witness, and the track of two horses led away toward Ten Mile Spring. + +"Darn it all!" Piegan grumbled. "Now, what d'yuh reckon's the meanin' uh +that? Them two has lit straight for where Baker's layout was camped this +mornin'. What for? Are they pullin' out uh the country with the coin? Or +are they lookin' for you fellers?" + +"Well"--MacRae thought a moment--"considering the care they've taken to +cover up their movements, I don't see what other object they could have +in view but making a smooth getaway. They've worked it nicely all +around. You know that if there was anything they wanted they weren't +taking any risk by going to any freight camp. We're the only men in the +country that know why they are pulling out this way--and _they_ know +that we daren't go in and report it, because they've managed to put us +on the dodge. They have reason to be sure that headquarters wouldn't for +a minute listen to a yarn like we'd have to tell--they'd have time to +ride to Mexico, while we sucked our thumbs in the guardhouse waiting for +the rest of the Police to get wise by degrees." + +"Then I tell yuh what let's do," Piegan abruptly decided. "I like t' +know what's liable t' happen when I'm on a jaunt uh this kind. One of us +better head in for the Crossin' an' find out for sure if any uh them +fellers come t' the camp, an' what he wanted there. An' seein' nobody +outside uh Horner knows I'm in on this play, I reckon I better go +m'self. If there should happen t' be a stray trooper hangin' round +there, the same would be mighty awkward for you fellers. So I'll go. You +poke along the trail slow, an' I'll overhaul yuh." + +"All right," MacRae agreed, and Piegan forthwith departed for the +Crossing. + +After Piegan left us we rode at a walk, and even then it was something +of a task to follow the faint impression. In the course of an hour a +cluster of dark objects appeared on the bench, coming rapidly toward us. +MacRae brought the glasses to bear on them at once, for there was always +the unpleasant possibility of Mounted Policemen cutting in on our trail; +the riders of every post along the line were undoubtedly on the watch +for us. + +"It's Piegan and another fellow," Mac announced shortly. "They're +leading two extra horses, and Piegan has changed mounts himself. I +wonder what's up--they seem to be in a dickens of a hurry." + +We got off and waited for them, wondering what the change of horses +might portend. They swung down to us on a run, and it needed no second +glance at the features of Piegan Smith to know that he brought with him +a fresh supply of trouble. His scraggly beard was thrust forward +aggressively, and his deep-set eyes fairly blazed between narrowed lids. + +"Slap your saddles on them fresh hosses," he grated harshly from the +back of a deep-chested, lean-flanked gray. "Let the others go--to hell +if they want to!" + +"What's up?" I asked sharply, and MacRae flung the same query over one +shoulder as he fumbled at the tight-drawn latigo-knot. + +Piegan rose in his stirrups and raised a clenched fist; the seamed face +of him grew purple under its tan, and the words came out like the +challenge of a range-bull. + +"Them--them ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- has got your girl!" he roared. + +The latigo dropped from MacRae's hand. "What?" he turned on Piegan +savagely, incredulously. + +"I said it--I said it! Yuh heard me, didn't yuh!" Piegan shouted. "This +mornin' about sunrise. That Hicks--the damned ---- ---- ---- he come t' +Baker's as they hooked up t' leave the Spring. He had a note for her, +an' she dropped everything an' jumped on a hoss he'd brought an' rode +away with him, cryin' when she left. He told Horner you'd bin shot +resistin' arrest, an' wanted t' see her afore yuh cashed in. They ain't +seen hide nor hair uh her since. Aw, don't stand starin' at me thataway. +Hurry up! They ain't got twelve hours' start--an' by God I'll smell 'em +out in the dark for this!" + +It was like a knife-thrust in the back; such a devilish and unexpected +turn of affairs that for half a second I had the same shuddery feeling +that came to me the night I stooped over Hans Rutter and gasped at sight +of what the fiends had done. MacRae whitened, but the full import of +Piegan's words stunned him to silence. The bare possibility of Lyn Rowan +being at the dubious mercy of those ruthless brutes was something that +called for more than mere words. He hesitated only a moment, nervously +twisting the saddle-strings with one hand, then straightened up and tore +loose the cinch fastening. + +After that outburst of Piegan's no one spoke. While Mac and I +transferred our saddles to the Baker horses, Piegan swung down from his +gray and, opening the pack on the horse we had been leading, took out a +little bundle of flour and bacon and coffee and tied it behind the +cantle of his saddle. A frying-pan and coffee-pot he tossed to me. Then +we mounted and took to the trail again, stripped down to fighting-trim, +unhampered by a pack-horse. + +Of daylight there yet remained a scant two hours in which we could hope +to distinguish a hoof-mark. Piegan leaned over his saddle-horn and took +hills and hollows, wherever the trail led, with a rush that unrolled the +miles behind us at a marvelous rate. For an hour we galloped silently, +matching the speed of fresh, wiry horses against the dying day, no sound +arising in that wilderness of brown coulée banks and dun-colored prairie +but the steady beat of hoofs, and the purr of a rising breeze from the +east. Then I became aware that Piegan, watching the ground through +half-closed eyelids, was speaking to us. From riding a little behind, to +give him room to trail, we urged our horses alongside. + +"Them fellers at Baker's camp," he said, without looking up, "would 'a' +come in a holy minute if there'd been hosses for 'em t' ride. But they +only had enough saddle-stock along t' wrangle the bulls--an' I took +three uh the best they had. Three of us is enough, anyhow. We kain't +ride up on them fellers now an' go t' shootin'. They're all together +again. I seen, back a ways, where them two hoss-tracks angled back from +the spring. They must 'a' laid up at that camp we passed till sometime +before daylight--seein' that damned Hicks come t' Baker's early this +mornin'. An' if they didn't travel very fast t'-day--which ain't likely, +'cause they probably figure they're dead safe, and their track don't +show a fast gait--there's just a chance that we'll hit 'em by dark if we +burn the earth. We're good for thirty miles before night covers up their +track. Don't yuh worry none, old boy," he bellowed at MacRae. "Old Injun +Smith'll see yuh through. God! I could 'a' cried m'self when I hit that +camp an' the old nigger woman went t' bawlin' when I told her yuh was +both out on the bench, sound as a new dollar. That was the first they +suspicioned anythin' was wrong. Them dirty, low-lived ---- ---- ----!" + +Piegan lapsed into a string of curses. MacRae, apparently unmoved, +nodded comprehension. But I knew what he was thinking, and I knew that +when once we got within striking distance of Hicks, Gregory & Co., there +would be new faces in hell without delay. + +We slowed our horses to a walk to ascend an abrupt ridge. When we gained +the top a vast stretch of the Northwest spread away to the east and +north. Piegan lifted his eyes from the trail for an instant. + +"Great Lord!" he said. "Look at the buffalo. It'll be good-by t' these +tracks before long." + +As far as the eye could reach the prairie was speckled with the herds, +speckled with groups of buffalo as the sky is dotted with clusters of +bright stars on a clear night. They moved, drifting slowly, in a +southerly direction, here in sharply defined groups, there in long +lines, farther in indistinct masses. But they moved; and the air that +filled our nostrils was freighted with the tang of smoke. + +We did not halt on the ridge. There was no need. We knew without +speculating what the buffalo-drift and the smoke-tinged air presaged; +and it bade us make haste before the tracks were quite obliterated. + +So with the hill behind us, and each of us keeping his thoughts to +himself--none of them wholly pleasant, judging by my own--we galloped +down the long slope, a red sunset at our backs and in our faces a gale +of dry, warm wind, tainted with the smell of burning grass. And at the +bottom of the slope, in the depths of a high-walled coulée where the +evening shadows were mustering for their stealthy raid on the gilded +uplands, we circled a grove of rustling poplars and jerked our horses up +short at sight of a scarlet blotch among the gloom of the trees. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +HONOR AMONG THIEVES. + + +We knew, even as our fingers instinctively closed on the handles of our +six-shooters, that we had not come upon the men we wanted; in such a +case there would have been an exchange of leaden courtesies long before +we managed to get in their immediate vicinity. It was unlikely that they +would cease to exercise the cunning and watchfulness that had, so far, +carried their infernal schemes through with flying colors. And a second +look showed us that the scarlet coat belonged to a man who half-sat, +half-lay on the ground, his shoulders braced against the trunk of a +fallen tree. We got off our horses and went cautiously up to him. + +"Be not afraid; it is only I!" Goodell raised his head with an effort +and greeted us mockingly. "I am, as you can see, hors de combat. What is +your pleasure, gentlemen?" + +The weakness of his tone and the pallid features of him vouched for the +truth of his statement. Stepping nearer, we saw that the light-colored +shirt showing between the open lapels of his jacket was stained a +tell-tale crimson. The hand he held against his breast was dabbled and +streaked with the blood that oozed from beneath the pressing fingers; +the leaf-mold under him was saturated with it. + +"Where is the rest of the bunch?" MacRae asked him evenly. "You seem to +have got a part of what is coming to you, but your skirts aren't clear, +for all that." + +"You have a bone to pick with me, eh?" Goodell murmured. "Well, I don't +blame you. But don't adopt the role of inquisitor--because I'm as good +as dead, and dead men tell no tales. My mouth will be closed forever in +a little while--and I can die as easily with it unopened. But if you'll +get me a drink of water, and be decent about it, I'll unfold a tale +that's worth while. I assure you it will be to your interest to give me +a hearing." + +Piegan turned and strode out of the timber. He unfastened the +coffee-pot from my saddle, and made for the coulée channel we had +crossed, in which a buffalo-wallow still held water from the recent +rain. + +Goodell coughed, and a red, frothy stream came from his lips. It isn't +in the average man to be utterly callous to the suffering of another, +even if that other richly deserves his pain. Notwithstanding the +deviltry he and his confederates had perpetrated, I couldn't help +feeling sorry for Goodell--what little I'd seen of him had been likable +enough. I found it hard to look at him there and believe him guilty of +murder, robbery, and kindred depredations. He was beyond reach of +earthly justice, anyway; and one can't help forgiving much to a man who +faces death with a smile. + +"Are you in any pain, Goodell?" I asked. + +"None whatever," he answered weakly. "But I'm a goner, for all that. I +have a very neat knife-thrust in the back. Also a bullet somewhere in my +lungs. You see in me," he drawled, "a victim of chivalry. I've played +for big stakes; I've robbed gaily, and killed a man or two in the way of +fighting; all of which sits lightly on my conscience. But there are two +things I haven't done. I want you to remember distinctly that I have +_not_ dragged that girl into this--nor had any hand in torturing a +wounded old man." + +"You mean Lyn Rowan? Is she safe?" Mac squatted beside him, leaning +eagerly forward to catch the reply. Piegan returned with the water as +Goodell was about to answer. He swallowed thirstily, took breath, and +went on. + +"Yes, I mean her," he said huskily. "I'll tell you quick, for I know I +won't last long, and when I'm done you'll know where to look for them. I +started this thing--this hold-up business--no matter why. Lessard was +away in the hole--gambling and other things--I hinted the idea to him; +he jumped at it, as I thought he would. And----" + +"Lessard!" I interrupted. "He was in on this, then?" + +"Was he?" Goodell echoed. "He is the whole thing." + +I had suspected as much, but sometimes it is a surprise to have one's +suspicions confirmed. I glanced at Mac and Piegan. + +"I was sure of it all along," Mac answered my unspoken thought. Piegan +merely shrugged his shoulders. + +"I wanted to get that government money in the pay-wagon, that was +all--at first," Goodell continued. "We planned a long time ahead, and we +had to take in those three to make it go. Then Lessard found out about +those two old miners, and put Hicks and Gregory on their trail unknown +to me--I had no hand in that foul business. You know the result--the +finish--that night you lost the ten thousand--it was hellish work. I +wanted to kill Hicks and Gregory when they told me. Poor old Dutchman! +Lessard put Bevans on your trail, Flood. He followed you from Walsh that +day, and you played into his hands that night when you stirred up the +fire. Only for running into his partners, he would probably have +murdered you for that ten thousand some night while you slept. Give me +another drink." + +I lifted the pot of water to his lips again, and he thanked me +courteously. + +"Then Lessard conceived the theory that you fellows had learned more +than you told. We were fixed to get the paymaster on that trip. We shook +you, and did the job. MacRae was on the way--you know. He sent you to +the Stone with those devils to keep cases on you. It seemed a pity to +let slip that gold-dust after they had gone so far. You know how that +panned out. We had a stake then. Lessard was the brains, the guiding +genius; we did the work. The original plan was to make a clean-up, +divide with him, and get out of the country--while he used his authority +to throw the Force off the track till we were well away. Then the girl +appeared, and Lessard lost his head. She turned him down; and at the +last moment he upset our plans by deciding to cut loose and go with us. +I believe now that he hatched this latest scheme when she refused him. I +tell you he was fairly mad about her. He took advantage of this last +trip to loot the post of all the funds he could lay hands on. We +have--or, rather, _they_ have," he corrected, "about a hundred and fifty +thousand altogether. + +"We couldn't ford Milk River on account of the storm. You tracked us? +You saw our last camp? Yes. Well, we left there early this morning. And +when Hicks turned off opposite Baker's outfit with an extra horse, I +thought nothing of it--it was perfectly safe, and we needed more +matches, Lessard said. Not until he joined us later with the girl did I +suspect that there were wheels within wheels; a kidnapping had never +occurred to me; I hadn't thought his infatuation would carry him that +far. She realized at once that she had been hoodwinked, and appealed to +Lessard. He laughed at her, and told her that he had abandoned the +modern method of winning a mate, and gone back to the primitive mode. + +"I've put myself beyond the pale; outlaw, thief, what you like--I'm not +sensitive to harsh names. But a woman--a good woman! Well, I have my own +ideas about such things. And when we camped here, I had made up my mind. +I told Lessard she must go back. That was a foolish move. I should have +got the drop and killed him out of hand. While I argued with him, Hicks +slipped a knife into my back, and as I turned on him Lessard shot me. +Ah, well--it'll be all the same a hundred years from now. But I'd like +to put a spoke in their wheel for the sake of that blue-eyed girl. + +"MacRae, you and Smith know the mouth of Sage Creek, and the ford there. +That's where they'll camp to-night. I doubt if they'll cross the river +till morning. If you ride you can make it in three hours. From there +they plan to follow Milk River to the Missouri and catch a down-stream +boat. But you'll get them to-night. You must. Now give me another +drink--and drift!" + +"We'll get them, Goodell." MacRae rose to his feet as he spoke. "You're +white, if you did get off wrong. I'll remember what you did--for her. Is +there anything we can do for you?" + +Goodell shook his head. "I tell you," he said, and turned his head to +look wistfully up at the eastern coulée-rim, all tinted with the blazing +sunset. "I'll go out over the hills with the shadows. An hour--maybe +two. It's my time. I've no complaint to make. All I want is a drink. You +can do no good for a dead man; and the living are sorely in need. It'll +be a bit lonesome, that's all." + +"No message for anybody?" MacRae persisted. + +"No--yes!" The old mocking, reckless tone crept into his voice again. +"If you should have speech with Lessard before you put his light out, +tell him I go to prepare a place for him--a superheated grid! Now +drift--_vamos_--hit the trail. Remember, the gorge at the mouth of Sage +Creek. Good-by." + +Soberly we filed out from among the trees, now swaying in the grip of +the wind, their leafy boughs rustling sibilantly; as though the weird +sisters whispered in the nodding branches that here was another thread +full-spun and ready for the keen shears. Soberly we swung to the saddle +and rode slowly away, lest the quick beat of hoofs should bring a sudden +pang of loneliness to the intrepid soul calmly awaiting death under the +shivering trees. I think that one bold effort to right a wrong will +more than wipe out the black score against him when the Book of Life is +balanced. + +A little way beyond the poplar-grove Piegan drew rein, and held up one +hand. + +"Poor devil," he muttered. "He's a-calling us." + +But he wasn't. He was fighting off the chill of loneliness that comes to +the strongest of us when we face the unknowable, the empty void that +there is no escaping. Dying there in the falling dusk, he was singing to +himself as an Indian brave chants his death-song when the red flame of +the torture-fire bites into his flesh. + + Sing heigh, sing ho, for the Cavalier! + Sing heigh, sing ho, for the Crown. + Gentlemen all, turn out, turn out; + We'll keep these Roundheads down! + Down--down--down--down. + We'll ke--ep these Round--heads down! + +Once--twice, the chorus of that old English Royalist song rose up out of +the grove. Then it died away, and we turned to go. And as we struck home +the spurs, remembering the mouth of Sage Creek and the dark that was +closing down, a six-shooter barked sharply, back among the trees. + +I swung my horse around in his tracks and raced him back to the poplars, +knowing what I would find, and yet refusing to believe. I will not say +that his big heart had failed him; perhaps it did not seem to him worth +while to face the somber shadows to the bitter end, lying alone in that +deep hollow in the earth. It may be that the night looked long and +comfortless, and it was his wish to go out with the sun. He lay beside +the fallen tree, his eyes turned blankly to the darkening sky, the +six-shooter in his hand as he had held it for the last time. I +straightened his arms, and covered his face with the blood-stained coat +and left him to his long sleep. And even old Piegan lifted his hat and +murmured "Amen" in all sincerity as we turned away. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +THE BISON. + + +When we reached high ground again the twilight was fading to a +semicircle of bloodshot gray in the northwest. The wind still blew +squarely in our faces. Down in the coulée we had not noticed it so much, +but now every breath was rank with the smell of grass-smoke, and each +mile we traversed the stink of it grew stronger. + +"We'll be blamed lucky if we don't run into a prairie-fire before +mornin'," Piegan grumbled. "If that wind don't let up, she'll come +a-whoopin'. It'll be a sure enough smoky one, too, with this mixture uh +dry grass an' the new growth springin' up. It didn't rain so hard down +in this country, I notice. Ain't that a lalla of a smell?" + +Neither of us answered, and Piegan said no more. It grew dark--dark in +the full sense of the word. The smoke-burdened atmosphere was impervious +to the radiance of the stars. Only by Smith's instinctive sense of +direction did we make any headway toward the mouth of Sage Creek. Even +MacRae owned himself somewhat at fault, once we came among the buffalo. +They barred our path in dimly-seen masses that neither halted, +scattered, nor turned aside when we galloped upon them in the gloom. We +were the ones who gave the road, riding now before, now behind the +indistinct bulk of a herd, according as we judged the shorter way. + +More dense became the brute mass. Whirled this way and that, as Piegan +led, I knew neither east, west, north or south from one moment to +another. Betimes we found a stretch of open country, and gave our horses +the steel, but always to bring up suddenly against the bison plodding in +groups, in ranks, in endless files. They were ubiquitous; stolid +obstructions that we could neither avoid nor ride down. Our progress +became monotonous, a succession of fruitless attempts to advance; +hopeless, like wandering in a subtle maze. Bison to the right of us, +bison to the left of us, an uncounted swarm behind us, and as many +before--but they neither bellowed nor thundered; they passed like +phantoms in the night, soundlessly save for the muffled trampling of +cloven hoofs, and here and there upon occasion hoarse coughings that +were strangled by the wind. + +And we rode as silently as the bison marched. For each one of us had +seen that one-minded pilgrimage of the brown cattle take place in moons +gone by. I recalled a time when a trail-herd lay on the Platte and the +buffalo barred their passing for two days--even made fourteen riders and +three thousand Texas steers give ground. Is it not history that the St. +Louis-Benton river-boats backed water when the bison crossed the +Missouri in the spring and fall? Remembering these, and other times that +the herds had gathered and swept over the plains, a plague of monstrous +locusts, pushing aside men and freight-trains, I knew what would happen +should the buffalo close their ranks, marshal the scattered groups into +closer formation, quicken the pace of the multitude that poured down +from the north. And presently it happened. + +Insensibly the number of moving bodies increased. The consolidation was +imperceptible in the murk, but nevertheless it took place. We ceased to +find clear spaces where we could gallop; a trot became impossible. We +were hemmed in. A rank animal odor mingled with the taint of smoke. +Gradually the muffled beat of hoofs grew more pronounced, a shuffling +monotone that filled the night. We were mere atoms in a vast wave of +horn and bone and flesh that bore us onward as the tide floats +driftwood. + +The belated moon stole up from its lair, hovered above the sky-line, a +gaudy orange sphere in the haze of smoke. It shed a tenuous glimmer on +the sea of bison that had engulfed us; and at the half-revealed sight +MacRae lifted his clenched hands above his head and cursed the +circumstance that had brought us to such extremity. That was the first +and only time I knew him to lose his poise, his natural repression. +Still water runs deep, they say; and a glacial cap may conceal +subterranean fires. Trite similes, I grant you--but, ah, how true. The +good Lord help those phlegmatics who can stand by unmoved when a +self-contained man reveals the anguish of his soul in one passionate +outburst. Could the fury that quivered in his voice have wreaked itself +on the bison and the men we followed, the stench of their blasted +carcasses would have reached high heaven. But the bison surrounded us +impassively, bore us on as before; somewhere, miles beyond, Lessard +pursued the evil tenor of his way; and MacRae's futile passion, like a +wave that has battered itself to foam against a sullen cliff, subsided +and died. Later, while we three cast-aways drifted with the bovine tide, +he spoke to Piegan Smith. + +"How are we going to get through?" + +"Dunno. But we _will_ get through, yuh c'n gamble on that." Optimism +rampant was the dominating element in Piegan's philosophy of life. + +As if to prove that he was a true prophet, the herd split against a +rocky pinnacle, and on this we stranded. So much, at least, we had +gained--we were no longer being carried willy-nilly out of our way. + +"If they'd only scatter a little," MacRae muttered. + +But for a long two hours the bison streamed by our island, dividing +before and closing behind the insensate peak that alone had power to +break their close-packed ranks. Then came an opening, a falling apart; +slight as it was, we plunged into it with joy. Thereafter we were +buffeted like chips in the swirling maw of a whirlpool; we fought our +way rod by rod. Here an opening, and we shot through; there a solid wall +of flesh for whose passing we halted, lashing out with quirts and +spurring desperately to hold our own--a war for the open road against an +enemy whose only weapon was his unswerving bulk. And we won. We pushed, +twisted, spurred our way through the ranks of a hundred thousand bison. +Jostling, cursing the brute swarm, we crowded our horses against the +press, and lo! of a sudden we reined up on open ground--the bison, like +a nightmare, were gone. Off in the gloom to one side of us a myriad of +hoofs beat the earth, the hoarse coughings continued, the animal odor +exhaled--but it was no longer a force to be reckoned with. We were free. +We had outflanked the herd. + +[Illustration: A WAR FOR THE OPEN ROAD AGAINST AN ENEMY WHOSE ONLY +WEAPON WAS HIS UNSWERVING BULK. + +_Page 256._] + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE MOUTH OF SAGE CREEK. + + +With that opposing force behind us, we bore away across the shrouded +benches, straight for the mouth of Sage Creek. What method we would +pursue when we got there was not altogether clear to me, and the same +thing evidently bothered Piegan, for, after a long interval, he +addressed himself pointedly to MacRae. + +"We ought t' hit the river in an hour or so," he said. "It's time we +figured on how we're goin' t' work, eh? I wish t' the Lord it was +daylight." + +"So do I," MacRae moodily responded. "For that matter, it won't be long. +I've been thinking that the best way would be to get down on the flat at +the north of the creek and _cache_ our horses in the timber. Then we can +sneak around without making any noise. If they're not camped on the +flat, we'll find them somewhere up the gorge. Of course, there's a +chance that they have crossed the river--but if they didn't get there +in daylight, and the river is still high, I hardly think they'd risk +fording in the dark." + +"That's about the way I had sized it up," Piegan replied. "The flat +ain't bigger'n a good-sized flapjack, nohow, an' if they're on that or +up in Sage Creek canyon, we're bound t' locate 'em; kain't help hearin' +their hosses snort or cough or make some sort uh noise, if we go +careful. The worst of it is, we kain't start the ball a-rollin' till we +get that girl spotted--that's the hell of it! Like as not she'd be the +first one t' get hurt. An' if we get rambunctious an' stir 'em up in the +dark, an' _don't_ put the finishin' to 'em right then an' there--why, +they got all the show in the world t' make a hot-foot getaway. _Sabe?_ +While I ain't lookin' for a chance t' sidestep the game, for I know how +yuh feel, I'd say locate 'em if we can, an' then back up a little and +wait for day." + +"Oh, I know, I know!" Mac burst out. "That's sense. But it gives me the +creeps to think--to think----" + +"Sure; we know it," Piegan answered softly. "We kain't tell till we get +there, anyway. Maybe we'll get 'em dead t' rights. No tellin' what'll +come up when we get into that canyon. When we get 'em spotted we c'n +make up our minds what t' do--if we have any time t' talk about it," he +finished, in an undertone. + +As we rode, the crimson-yellow reflection of burning prairies began to +tint the eastern sky; once, from the crest of a hill, we saw the +wavering line of flame, rising and falling in beautiful undulations. And +presently we galloped across a mile or two of level grassland and pulled +up on the very brink of Sage Creek canyon. + +"Easy, easy, from here on," Piegan whispered caution. "We may be right +above 'em, for all we know. We hit it a little too high up. How far +d'yuh reckon it is t' the mouth, Mac?" + +"Not more than half a mile," MacRae returned. "We're not far out. I know +where there's a good place to get down." + +We turned sharply to the right, coming out on a narrow point. Without +mishap we reached the foot of the steep hill. At the bottom the wind was +almost wholly shut off, so that sounds were easier to distinguish. The +moon had passed its zenith long since, and half of the flat lay in dense +shadow. Beyond the shadow a pall of smoke lay over everything, a +shifting haze that made objects near at hand indefinite of outline, +impossible to classify at a glance. A horse or a tree or a clump of +brush loomed up grotesquely in the vaporous blur. + +Mac, to whom the topography of that gloomy place was perfectly familiar, +led the way. A black, menacing wall that rose before us suddenly +resolved itself into a grove of trees, great four-foot cottonwoods. He +stole into the heart of the grove and satisfied himself that our game +had not appropriated it as a camping-place. That assured, we followed +with our horses and tied them securely, removing saddles and bridles, +lest the clank of steel or creaking of leather betray our presence to +listening ears. On any noise our horses might make we had no choice but +to take a chance. Then we looked to our guns and set out on a stealthy +search. + +A complete circle of that tiny bottom--it was only a shelf of sage-brown +land lying between the river and the steep bank--profited us nothing, +and Piegan whispered that now we must seek for them in the gorge. + +Cautiously we retraced our steps from the lower end of the flat, and +turned into the narrow mouth of the canyon. We had no more than got +fairly between the straight-up-and-down walls of it than Piegan halted +us with a warning hand. We squatted in the sage-brush and listened. +Behind us, from the river, came a gentle plashing. + +"Beaver," I hazarded. + +"Too loud," Piegan murmured. "Let's go back an' see." + +We reached the river-edge just in time to hear the splashing die away; +and though we strained our eyes looking, we could make out no movement +on the surface of the river or in the dimly-outlined scrub that fringed +the opposite bank. Piegan turned on the instant and ran to where we had +tied our horses; but they stood quietly as we had left them. + +"I got a hunch they'd got onto us, an' maybe set us afoot for a +starter," Piegan explained. "I reckon that must 'a' been a deer or some +other wild critter." + +Once more we turned into the canyon, and this time followed its narrow, +scrub-patched floor some three hundred yards up from the river. It was +dark enough for any kind of deviltry in that four-hundred foot gash in +the earth; the sinking moon lightened only a strip along the east wall, +near the top; lower down, smoke mingling with the natural gloom cast an +impenetrable veil from bank to bank; not a breath of air stirred the +tomblike stillness. Directly in front of us a horse coughed. We dropped +on all fours, listened a moment, then crept forward. Without warning, we +found ourselves foul of a picket-line, and the vague forms of grazing +horses loomed close by. Piegan halted us with a touch, and we lay flat; +then with our heads together he whispered softly: + +"We must be right on top uh them. It's a cinch their camp ain't far from +their livestock. I wonder----" + +To the left of us a horse snorted nervously; we heard him trot with +high, springy strides to the end of his rope, and snort again. Then a +voice cut the stillness that followed: "Here, you fool, what's the +matter with you?" + +We hugged the ground like frightened rabbits. It hardly seemed possible +that we could be within speaking-distance of them--yet that was +Gregory's clear enunciation; I would know his speech in a jabberfest of +several nations. + +"What's the matter?" That, by the curt inflection, the autocratic +peremptoriness, was Lessard. I had one hand on MacRae's shoulder, and I +felt a tremor run through his body, like the rising of a cat's fur at +sight of an adversary. + +"Oh, nothing much," Gregory answered carelessly. "I was just speaking to +one of these fool horses. They seem to be as nervous as you are." And +we could hear him chuckle over this last remark. + +After that there was nothing but the muffled tr-_up_, tr-_up_ of grazing +horses. Piegan or MacRae, I could not tell which, tugged gently at my +arm, and the three of us retreated slowly, crawling both literally and +figuratively. When we were well away from the camp of that ungodly +combination, Piegan rose to his feet and we proceeded a little faster +until we reached a distance that permitted of low-toned conversation. + +"Now," Piegan declared, "we have 'em located. An' I'm here t' declare +that it's plumb foolish t' mix things with that layout till we can see +t' shoot tolerable straight. If we go against 'em now, it'll be all same +goin' blindfolded into a barn t' pick out the best hoss. The first gun +that pops they'll raise up an' quit the earth like a bunch uh antelope. +_They_ ain't got nothin' t' win in a fight--unless they're cornered. I +did think uh tryin' t' get off with their hosses, but I figured it +wouldn't pay with that sharp-eared cuss on the watch. Whenever it comes +day, we got all the best uh things--though I don't reckon we'll have a +walkaway. We want t' make a clean job once we start in, an' we kain't do +that in the dark. Furthermore, as I said before, if we go t' throwin' +lead when we kain't see ten feet in front of us, we'd just about hit +that girl first rattle out uh the box. She ain't comin' t' no harm just +now, or it wouldn't be so blamed peaceful around there. It's only a +matter of a couple uh hours t' daylight, anyhow. What d'yuh think?" + +"Under the circumstances, the only thing we can do is to wait," MacRae +assented, and I fancied that there was a reluctant quiver in his usually +steady voice. "It's going to be smoky at daybreak, but we can see their +camp from this first point, I think. There's a big rock over here--I'll +show you--you and Sarge can get under cover there. I'll lie up on the +opposite side, so they'll have to come between us. Let them pack and get +started. When they get nearly abreast, cut loose. Shoot their +saddle-horses first, then we can fight it out. Come on, I'll show you +that rock." + +MacRae's bump of location was nearly as well developed as Piegan's. He +picked his way through the sage-brush to the other side of the canyon, +bringing us in the deepest gloom to a great slab of sandstone that had +fallen from above, and lay a few feet from the base of the sheer wall. +It was a natural breastwork, all ready to our hand. There, without +another word, he left us. Crouching in the shelter of that rock, not +daring to speak above a whisper, denied the comforts of tobacco, it +seemed as if we were never to be released from the dusky embrace of +night. In reality it was less than two hours till daybreak, but they +were slow-footed ones to me. Then dawn flung itself impetuously across +the hills, and the naked rim of the canyon took form in a shifting whirl +of smoke. Down in the depths gloom and shadows vanished together, and +Piegan Smith and I peered over the top of our rock and saw the outlaw +camp--men and horses dim figures in the growing light. We scanned the +opposite side for sight of MacRae, but saw nothing of him; he kept close +under cover. + +"They're packin' up," Piegan murmured, with a dry chuckle. "I reckon +things won't tighten nor nothin' in a few minutes, eh? But say, damn if +I see anything among that layout that resembles a female. Do you?" + +I did not, even when I focused the field-glasses on that bunch at that +short distance. Certainly she was not there--at least she was not to be +seen, and I could almost read the expression on each man's features, so +close did the glasses draw them up. And failing to see her started me +thinking that after all she might have given them the slip. I hoped it +might be so. Lyn was no chicken-hearted weakling, to sit down and weep +unavailingly in time of peril. Bred on the range, on speaking-terms with +the turbulent frontier life, her wits weren't likely to forsake her in a +situation of that kind. + +While the light of day grew stronger and the smoke eddied in heavier +wreaths above, one of them swung up on a horse and came down the bottom +at a fast lope. We had no means of knowing what his mission might be, +but I did know that the square shoulders, the lean eagle face, could +only belong to one man; and I dropped the glasses and drew a bead on his +breast. I hesitated a second, squinting along the barrel of the carbine; +I wanted him to round the point that jutted out from the other side of +the canyon, so that his partners could not see his finish. If they did +not see him go down, nor observe the puff of smoke from behind the rock, +they might think he had fired a shot himself. And while I waited, +grumbling at the combination of circumstances that made it necessary to +shoot down even a cold-blooded brute like him in such a way, Mac took +the matter out of my hands in his own characteristic fashion. + +Lessard turned the point, and as the carbine-hammer clicked back under +the pull of my thumb, MacRae sprang to his feet from behind a squatty +clump of sage, right in Lessard's path. Nervy as men are made, MacRae +worshiped at the shrine of an even break, a square deal for friend or +foe. And Lessard got it. There among the sage-brush he got a fair chance +for his life, according to the code of men who settle their differences +at the business end of a six-shooter. But it wasn't Lessard's hour. +Piegan Smith and I saw his hand flash to his pistol, saw it come to a +level, heard the single report of MacRae's gun. It was a square +deal--which Lessard had not given us. He crumpled in the saddle; +sprawled a moment on the neck of his horse, and dropped to the ground. +MacRae sank behind the sage again, and we waited for the others. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +AN ELEMENTAL ALLY. + + +But they did not come. One of them must have seen Lessard fall, for at +the crack of MacRae's gun men and horses, already half-hidden by the +thickening smoke, vanished into the brush. Piegan fired one ineffectual +shot as they flicked out of sight. So far we had seen nothing of Lyn. I +was satisfied she was not in the party, unaccountable as that seemed to +be. + +"Darn 'em," Piegan grunted disgustedly. "They're next, now. An' they +don't aim t' run the gantlet till they have t'. We got 'em penned, +anyway; they can't get out uh that patch uh brush without showin' +themselves." + +"Oh, Piegan!" MacRae called to us. He lay within easy shouting-distance, +and managed to make himself heard without rising. + +"Hello!" Piegan answered. + +"Can you fellows keep them from going up the canyon?" + +"I reckon we can," Smith called back, "unless this smoke gets so blame +thick we kain't see at all." + +"All right. I'm going up on top, and throw it into them from above. +Maybe I can drive them out of the brush." + +Piegan slapped me on the shoulder. "Darn our fool hearts," he exclaimed. +"We ought to 'a' thought uh that before. Why, he c'n pick 'em off like +blackbirds on a fence, from up there on the bench!" + +We did not see MacRae go, but we knew that he must have crawled through +the sage-brush to the creek channel, where, by stooping, he could gain +the mouth of the canyon unseen. Anyway, our time was fully occupied in +watching the brush-patch that sheltered our plundering friends. They +held close to their concealment, however, nor did they waste any powder +on us--for that matter, I don't think they knew just where we were, and +they were familiar enough with the gentle art of bushwhacking to +realize that the open was a distinctly unhealthy place for either party +to prospect. + +It was a long time till we heard from MacRae again, and, lying there +passively, we grew afraid that after all they would give us the slip; +for the smoke was now rolling in black clouds above the gorge. So far +the thickest of it had blown overhead, but any moment a change of wind +might whip it down the canyon bottom like an ocean fog, and that would +mean good-by to Hicks & Co. + +"That fire's mighty close, an' comin' on the jump," Piegan remarked, +with an upward glance. "I wish she'd let up long enough for us t' finish +this job. That smoke's as good as they want, once it begins t' settle in +the gorge. What in thunder d'yuh s'pose Mac's doin' all this time. He +ought t' show pretty quick, now." + +He showed, as Piegan put it, very shortly. From the top of the opposite +bank he fired a shot or two, and drew for the first time a return from +the enemy. Then he broke off, and when he next gave hint of his +whereabouts, it was to hail us from the nearest point on the canyon rim. + +"Quit your hide-out and pull for the mouth of the gorge. Quick! I'll be +there." + +"What the hell's up now!" Piegan muttered. "Well, I guess we'll have t' +take a chance. If they don't wing us before we get across this bald +place, we'll be all right. Run like yuh was plumb scairt t' death, +Flood." + +We sprinted like a pair of quarter-horses across the thirty yards of +bare ground that spread in front of the rock, a narrow enough space, to +be sure, but barren of cover for a jack-rabbit, much less two +decent-sized men. My heart was pumping double-quick when we threw +ourselves headlong in the welcome sage-brush--they had done their level +best to stop us, and some of those forty-four caliber humming-birds +buzzed their leaden monotone perilously close to our heads. That is one +kind of music for which I have a profound respect. + +From there to the creek-channel we crawled on all fours, as MacRae had +done. Stooping, lest our heads furnish a target, we splashed along in +the shallow water till we reached the mouth of the canyon. There we +slipped carefully to higher ground. MacRae was scrambling and sliding +down from above, barely distinguishable against the bank. Far up the +gorge dense clouds of black smoke swooped down from the benchland. +Already the patch of brush in which lay the renegade Policemen was +hidden in the smudge, shut away from our sight. We hailed MacRae when he +reached the foot of the hill, and he came crashing through sage and +buck-brush and threw himself, panting, on the ground. + +"The fire," he gasped, "is coming down the gorge. They're cut off at the +other end. They've got to come out here in a little while--or roast. The +smoke would choke a salamander, on top, right now. We can't miss them in +this narrow place, no matter how thick it gets. Look yonder!" + +A wavering red line licked its way to the canyon-edge on the east side, +wiped out the grass, and died on the bald rim-rock. Away up the creek a +faint crackling sounded. + +"Dry timber," Piegan muttered. "It'll get warm 'round here pretty +directly." + +The smoke, blacker now, more dense, hot as a whiff from a baker's oven, +swooped down upon us in choking eddies. It blew out of the canyon-mouth +like a gust from a chimney, rolling over and over in billowy masses. The +banks on either hand were almost invisible. We knew that our time of +waiting was short. The popping of dry, scrubby timber warned us that our +position would soon be untenable. The infernal vapors from the unholy +mixture of green and dry grass, berry bushes, willow scrub, and the +ubiquitous sage, made breathing a misery and brought unwilling tears to +our stinging eyes. And presently, above the subdued but menacing noises +of the fire, the beat of galloping hoofs uprose. + +They burst out of the mouth of the canyon, a smoke-wreathed whirlwind, +heading for the protection of the river. The pack-horses, necked +together, galloped in the lead, and behind them Hicks, Gregory, and +Bevans leaned over the necks of their mounts. They knew that we were +waiting for them, but at the worst they had a fighting chance with us, +and none with what came behind. So thick hung the smoky veil that they +were right on top of us before they took tangible shape; and when we +rose to our knees and fired, the crack of their guns mingled with that +of our own. Gregory, so near that I could see every feature of his dark +face, the glittering black eyes, the wide mouth parted over white, even +teeth, wilted in his saddle as they swept by. Bevans and his horse went +down together. But Hicks the wily, a superb horseman, hung in his off +stirrup and swerved away from us, and the smoke closed behind him to the +tune of our guns. + +It was done in less time than it has taken to tell of it. There was no +prolonged hand-to-hand struggle with buckets of blood marring the +surrounding scenery, and a beautiful heroine wringing her hands in +despair; merely a rush of horses and men out of the smoke, a brief spasm +of gun-fire--it was begun and ended in five seconds. But there were two +fallen men, and Piegan Smith with a hole through the big muscle of his +right arm, to show that we had fought. + +The pack-horses, with no riders at their heels to guide them, had +tangled each other in the connecting-rope and stopped. Hicks was gone, +and likely to keep going. So we turned our attention to Gregory and +Bevans. Gregory was dead as the proverbial door-nail, but Bevans, on +investigation, proved to be very much alive--so much so that if he had +not been partly stunned by the fall, and thereafter pinned to the ground +by a thousand-pound horse, he would have potted one or two of us with a +good heart. As it was, we reached the gentleman in the same moment that +he made a heroic effort to lay hold of the carbine which had +luckily--for us--fallen beyond the length of his arm. + +"Yuh lay down there an' be good!" Piegan, out of the fullness of his +heart, emphasized his command with the toe of his boot. "Where's that +girl, yuh swine?" + +"Go to hell!" Bevans snarled. + +"Here," MacRae broke in hastily, "we've got to move pretty _pronto_, +and get across the river. That fire will be on us in five minutes. Sarge +and I will gather up their horses. You keep an eye on Bevans, Piegan; +he'll answer questions fast enough when I get at him." + +While Mac dashed across the creek I captured Gregory's horse, which had +stopped when his rider fell; and as I laid hand on the reins I thought I +heard a shot off beyond the river. But I couldn't be certain. The whine +of the wind that comes with a fire, the crackle of the fire itself, the +manifold sounds that echoed between the canyon walls and the pungent, +suffocating smoke, all conspired against clear thinking or hearing. I +listened a moment, but heard no more. Then, with time at a premium, I +hastened to straighten out the tangle of pack-animals. Mac loomed up in +the general blur with Lessard's body on his horse, as I led the others +back to where Piegan stood guard over Bevans. + +"Ain't this hell!" he coughed. "That fire's right on top of us. We got +t' make the river in a hurry." + +It was another minute's work to lash Gregory's body on one of the +pack-horses, and release the sullen Bevans from the weight of his dead +mount. As an afterthought, I looked in the pockets on his saddle, and +the first thing I discovered was a wad of paper money big enough to +choke an ox, as Piegan would say. I hadn't the time to investigate +further, so I simply cut the _anqueros_ off his saddle and flung them +across the horn of my own--and even in that swirl of smoke and sparks I +glowed with a sense of gratification, for it seemed that at last I was +about to shake hands with the ten thousand dollars I had mourned as +lost. Then Piegan and I drove Bevans ahead of us and moved the spoils of +war to the river brink, while MacRae hurried to the cottonwood grove +after our own neglected mounts; they had given us too good service to be +abandoned to the holocaust. + +MacRae soon joined us with the three horses; out into the stream, wading +till the water gurgled around our waists, we led the bunch. Then we +were compelled to take our hats and slosh water over packs and saddles +till they were soaked--for the fire was ravaging the flat we had just +left, and showers of tiny sparks descended upon and around us. Thus +proof against the fiery baptism, though still half-strangled by the +smoke, our breathing a succession of coughs, we mounted and pushed +across. + +The high water had abated and the river was now flowing at its normal +stage, some three hundred yards in width and nowhere swimming-deep on +the ford. We passed beyond spark-range and splashed out on a sand-bar +that jutted from the southern bank. Midway between the lapping water and +the brush that lined the edge of the flat, a dark object became +visualized in the shifting gray vapor. We rode to it and pulled up in +amaze. Patiently awaiting the pleasure of his master, as a good cavalry +horse should, was the bay gelding Hicks had ridden; and Hicks himself +sprawled in the sand at the end of the bridle-reins. I got down and +looked him over. He was not dead; far from it. But a bullet had scored +the side of his head above one ear, and he was down and out for the +time. + +We stripped the pistol-belt off him, and a knife. At the same time we +rendered Bevans incapable of hostile movement by anchoring both hands +securely behind his back with a pack-rope. That done, Piegan's bleeding +arm came in for its share of attention. Then we held a council of war. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +SPEECHLESS HICKS. + + +When I spoke of holding a council of war, I did so largely in a +figurative sense. Literally, we set about reviving Hicks, with a view to +learning from him what had become of Lyn Rowan. He and Bevans +undoubtedly knew, and as Bevans persisted in his defiant sullenness, +refusing to open his mouth for other purpose than to curse us +vigorously, we turned to Hicks. A liberal amount of water dashed in his +face aided him to recover consciousness, and in a short time he sat up +and favored us with a scowl. + +"What has become of that girl you took away from Baker's freight-train +yesterday morning?" MacRae dispassionately questioned. + +Hicks glared at him by way of answer. + +"Hurry up and find your tongue," MacRae prompted. + +"I dunno what you're drivin' at," Hicks dissembled. + +"You will know, in short order," MacRae retorted, "if you harp on that +tune. We've got you where we want you, and I rather think you'll be glad +to talk, before long. I ask you what became of that girl between the +time you knifed Goodell and this morning?" + +Hicks started at mention of Goodell. His heavy face settled into +stubborn lines. He blinked under MacRae's steady look. Of a sudden he +sprang to his feet. I do not know what his intention may have been, but +he got little chance to carry out any desperate idea that took form in +his brain, for MacRae knocked him back on his haunches with a single +blow of his fist. + +"Answer me," he shouted, "or by the Lord! I'll make you think hell is a +pleasure-garden compared to this sand-bar." + +"Kick a few uh his ribs out uh place for a starter," Piegan coolly +advised. "That'll he'p him remember things." + +Yet for all their threats Hicks obstinately refused to admit that he had +ever seen Lyn Rowan. What his object was in denying knowledge we knew he +possessed did not transpire till later. He knew the game was lost, so +far as he was concerned, and he was mustering his forces in a last +effort to save himself. And MacRae's patience snapped like a frayed +thread before many minutes of futile query. + +"Get me a rope off one of those pack-horses, Sarge," he snapped. + +I brought the rope; and I will brazenly admit that I should not have +balked at helping decorate the limb of a cottonwood with those two +red-handed scoundrels. But I was not prepared for the turn MacRae took. +Hicks evidently felt that there was something ominous to the fore, for +he fought like a fiend when we endeavored to apply the rope to his arms +and legs. There was an almost superhuman desperation in his resistance, +and while MacRae and I hammered and choked him into submission Piegan +gyrated about us with a gun in his left hand, begging us to let _him_ +put the finishing touches to Hicks. That, however, was the very +antithesis of MacRae's purpose. + +"I don't want to _kill_ him, Piegan," he said pointedly, when Hicks was +securely tied. "If I had, do you suppose I'd dirty my hands on him in +that sort of a scramble when I know how to use a gun? I want him to +talk--you understand?--and he _will_ talk before I'm through with him." + +There was a peculiar inflection about that last sentence, a world of +meaning that was lost on me until I saw Mac go to the brush a few yards +distant, return with an armful of dry willows and place them on the sand +close by Hicks. Without audible comment I watched him, but I was +puzzled--at first. He broke the dry sticks into fragments across his +knee; when he had a fair-sized pile he took out his knife and whittled a +few shavings. Not till he snapped his knife shut and put it in his +pocket and began, none too gently, to remove the boots from Hicks' feet, +did I really comprehend what he was about. It sent a shiver through me, +and even old Piegan stood aghast at the malevolent determination of the +man. But we voiced no protest. That was neither the time nor place to +abide by the Golden Rule. Only the law of force, ruthless, inexorable, +would compel speech from Hicks. And since they would recognize no +authority save that of force, it seemed meet and just to deal with them +as they had dealt with us. So Piegan Smith and I stood aloof and watched +the grim play, for the fate of a woman hung in the balance. Hicks' +salient jaw was set, his expression unreadable. + +MacRae stacked the dry wood in a neat pyramid twelve inches from the +bare soles of Hicks' feet. He placed the shavings in the edge of the +little pile. Then he stood up and began to talk, fingering a match with +horrible suggestiveness. + +"Perhaps you think that by keeping a close mouth there's a chance to get +out of some of the deviltry you've had a hand in lately. But there +isn't. You'll get what's coming to you. And in case you're bolstering up +your nerve with false hopes in that direction, let me tell you that we +know exactly how you turned every trick. I don't particularly care to +take the law into my own hands; I'd rather take you in and turn you +over to the guard. But there's a woman to account for yet, and so you +can take your choice between the same deal you gave Hans Rutter and +telling me what became of her." + +He paused for a moment. Hicks stared up at him calculatingly. + +"I'll tell you all I know about it if you turn me loose," he said. "Give +me a horse and a chance to pull my freight, and I'll talk. Otherwise, +I'm dumb." + +"I'll make no bargains with you," MacRae answered. "Talk or take the +consequences." + +Hicks shook his head. MacRae coughed--the smoke was still rolling in +thick clouds from over the river--and went on. + +"Perhaps it will make my meaning clearer if I tell you what happened to +Rutter, eh? You and Gregory got him after he was wounded, didn't you? He +wouldn't tell where that stuff had been _cached_. But you had a way of +loosening a man's tongue--I have you to thank for the idea. Oh, it was a +good one, but that old Dutchman was harder stuff than you're made of. +You built a fire and warmed his feet. Still he wouldn't talk, so you +warmed them some more. Fine! But you didn't suppose you'd ever get +_your_ feet warmed. I'm not asking much of you, and you'll be no deeper +in the mire when you answer. If you don't--well, there's plenty of wood +here. Will you tell me what I want to know, or shall I light the fire?" + +Still no word from Hicks. MacRae bent and raked the match along a flat +stone. + +"Oh, well," he said indifferently, "maybe you'll think better of it when +your toes begin to sizzle." + +He thrust the flaring match among the shavings. As the flame crept in +among the broken willows, Hicks raised his head. + +"If I tell you what become of her, will you let me go?" he proposed +again. "I'll quit the country." + +"You'll tell me--or cook by inches, right here," Mac answered +deliberately. "You can't buy me off." + +The blaze flickered higher. I watched it, with every fiber of my being +revolting against such savagery, and the need for it. I glanced at +Piegan and Bevans. The one looked on with grim repression, the other +with blanched face. And suddenly Hicks jerked up his knees and heaved +himself bodily aside with a scream of fear. + +"Put it out! Put it out!" he cried. "I'll tell you. For God's +sake--anything but the fire!" + +"Be quick, then," MacRae muttered, "before I move you back." + +"Last night," Hicks gasped, "when we pulled into the gorge to camp, she +jerked the six-shooter out uh Lessard's belt and made a run for it. She +took to the brush. It was dark, and we couldn't follow her. I don't know +where she got to, except that she started down the creek. We hunted for +her half the night--didn't see nothin'. That's the truth, s'help me." + +"Down the creek--say, by the great Jehosophat!" Piegan exclaimed. "D'yuh +remember that racket in the water this mornin'? Yuh wait." He turned +and ran down-stream. Almost instantly the smoke had swallowed him. + +MacRae stood staring for a second or two, then turned and scattered the +fire broadcast on the sand with a movement of his foot. He lifted his +hat, and I saw that his forehead and hair was damp with sweat. + +"That was a job I had mighty little stomach for," he said, catching my +eye and smiling faintly. "I thought that sulky brute would come through +if I made a strong bluff. I reckon I'd have weakened in another minute, +if he hadn't." + +"Ugh!" I shuddered. "It gave me the creeps. I wouldn't make a good +Indian." + +"Nor I," he agreed. "But I had to know. And I feel better now. I'm not +afraid for Lyn, since I know she got away from _them_." + +Piegan, at this moment, set up a jubilant hallooing down the river, and +shortly came rushing back to us. + +"Aha, I told yuh," he cried exultantly. "That was her crossed the river +this mornin'. I found her track in the sand. One uh yuh stand guard, +and the other feller come with me. We c'n trail her." + +"Go ahead," I told MacRae--a superfluous command, for I could not have +kept him from going if I had tried. + +So I was left on the sand-bar with two dead thieves, and two who should +have been dead, and a little knot of horses for company. Hicks and +Bevans gave me little concern. I had helped tie both of them, and I knew +they would not soon get loose. But it was a weary wait. An hour fled. I +paced the bar, a carbine in the crook of my arm and a vigilant eye for +incipient outbreaks for freedom on the part of those two wolves. The +horses stood about on three legs, heads drooping. The smoke-clouds +swayed and eddied, lifted a moment, and closed down again with the +varying spasms of the fire that was beating itself out on the farther +shore. I sat me down and rested a while, arose and resumed my nervous +tramping. The foglike haze began to thin. It became possible to breathe +without discomfort to the lungs; my eyes no longer stung and watered. +And after a period in which I seemed to have walked a thousand miles on +that sandy point, I heard voices in the distance. Presently MacRae and +Piegan Smith broke through the willow fringe on the higher ground--and +with them appeared a feminine figure that waved a hand to me. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +THE SPOILS OF WAR. + + +All things considered, it was a joyous knot of humanity that gathered on +that sand-bar--if one excepts the two plunderers who were tied hard and +fast, their most cheerful outlook a speedy trial with a hangman's noose +at the finish. I recollect that we shook hands all around, and that our +tongues wagged extravagantly, regardless of whoever else might be +speaking. We settled down before long, however, remembering that we were +not altogether out of the woods. + +The fire by this time had, to a great extent, beaten itself out on the +opposite bank, and with nothing left but a few smoldering brush-patches, +the smoke continued to lift and give us sundry glimpses of the black +desolation that spread to the north. So far as we knew, the wind had +carried no sparks across the river to fire the south side and drive us +back to the barrenness of the burned lands. And with the certainty that +Lyn was safe, and that we were beyond disputing masters of the +situation, came consciousness of hunger and great bodily weariness. It +was almost twenty-four hours since we had eaten, and we were simply +ravenous. As a start toward an orderly method of procedure, we began by +re-dressing Piegan's punctured arm, which had begun to bleed again; +though it was by no means as serious a hurt as it might have been. +Piegan himself seemed to consider it a good deal of a joke on him, and +when I remarked that I failed to see how a bullet-hole through any part +of one's person could be regarded in a humorous light, Piegan snorted, +and told me that I would know more when I grew up. A little ventilation, +he declared, was something a man's system needed every year or two. + +Then we unsaddled and unpacked the horses, and moved them up on the +grassy flat. Piegan elected himself guard over the prisoners, while the +rest of us cooked a belated breakfast, and he assured them repeatedly +that he would be delighted to have them make a break, so that he could +have the pleasure of perforating their individual and collective hides. +I really believe the old rascal meant it, too; he succeeded, at least, +in giving that impression, and his crippled arm was no handicap to +him--he could juggle a six-shooter right or left-handed with amazing +dexterity. + +Lyn substantiated Goodell's story in every detail, so far as it had +dealt with her, and she told me, while we pottered about the fire, how +she waited her chance when they made camp in Sage Creek, and, snatching +Lessard's gun, ran for it in the dark. + +"I didn't really know where I was," she told me naively. "So I thought +I'd better hide till daylight and watch them go before I started. Then I +could try and make my way back to the freight outfit--I felt sure they +would either wait for me or send a man back to Walsh when I didn't come +back. I was hiding in those cottonwoods when you came stealing in there +this morning. You were so quiet, I couldn't tell who it was--I thought +perhaps they were still hunting for me; they did, you know--they were +rummaging around after me for a long time. But I never dreamed it could +be you and Gordon. So I sneaked down to the river and crossed; I was +deadly afraid they'd find me, and I thought once I was on the other side +I could hear them coming, and scuttle away in the brush. Then about +daylight I heard some shooting, and wondered if they had been followed. +I didn't dare cross the river and start over the hills with that fire +coming, and the smoke so thick I couldn't tell a hill from a hollow. I +waited a while longer--I was in this brush up here"--she pointed to a +place almost opposite--"and in a little while I heard more shooting, and +in a minute or so, he"--indicating Hicks--"came splashing through the +river. He was on the sand-bar before I could see him clearly, and coming +straight toward where I was huddled in the brush. Oh, but I was +frightened, and before I knew it, almost, I poked the gun between the +branches and fired at his head as straight as I could--and he fell off +his horse. Then I ran, before any more of them came. And that's really +all there is to it. I was plodding up the river, when I heard Gordon +shouting two or three hundred yards behind. Of course I knew his voice, +and stopped. But dear me! this seems like a bad dream, or maybe I ought +to say a good one. I hope you won't all disappear in the smoke." + +"Don't you worry," MacRae assured her. "When we vanish in the smoke +we'll take you with us." + +After we had eaten we made a systematic search of packs and +saddle-pockets, and when we had finished there was more of the root of +all evil in sight than I have laid my eyes on at any one time before or +since. The gold that had drawn us into the game was there in the same +long, buckskin sacks, a load for one horse. The government money, looted +from the paymaster, part gold coin and part bills, they had divided, and +it was stowed in various places. Lessard's saddle-pockets were crammed, +and likewise those of Hicks and Gregory. Bevans' _anqueros_, which I had +taken from his dead horse, yielded a goodly sum. Altogether, we counted +some seventy-odd thousand dollars, exclusive of the gold-dust in the +sacks. + +"There's a good deal more than that, according to Goodell's figures," +MacRae commented. "Lessard must have got away with quite a sum from the +post. I daresay the pockets of the combination hold the rest. But I +don't hanker to search a dead man, and that can wait till we get to +Walsh." + +"Yuh goin' t' lug this coyote bait t' Fort Walsh?" Piegan inquired. "I'd +leave 'em right here without the ceremony uh plantin'. An' I vote right +here an' now t' neck these other two geesers together an' run 'em off'n +a high bank into deep water." + +"I'd vote with you, so far as my personal feeling in the matter goes," +MacRae replied. "But we've got a lot of mighty black marks against us, +right now, and we're going in there to relate a most amazing tale. Of +course, we can prove every word of it. But I reckon we'll have to take +these two carcasses along as a sort of corroborative evidence. Every +confounded captain in the Force will have to view them officially; they +wouldn't take our word for their being dead. So it would only delay the +clearing up of things to leave them here. These other jaspers will lend +a fine decorative effect to the noosed end of a three-quarter-inch rope +for their part in the play--unless Canadian justice miscarries, which +doesn't often happen if you give it time enough to get at the root of +things." + +Much as we had accomplished, we still had a problem or two ahead of us. +While we didn't reckon on having to defend ourselves against the +preposterous charge of holding up the paymaster, there was that little +matter of violent assault on the persons of three uniformed +representatives of Northwestern law--assault, indeed, with deadly +weapons; also the forcible sequestration of government property in the +shape of three troop-horses with complete riding appurtenances; the +uttering of threats; all of which was strictly against the peace and +dignity of the Crown and the statutes made and provided. No man is +supposed, as MacRae had pointed out to me after we'd held up those three +troopers, to inflict a compound fracture on one law in his efforts to +preserve another. But it had been necessary for us to do so, and we had +justified our judgment in playing a lone hand and upsetting Lessard's +smoothly conceived plan to lay us by the heels while he and his thugs +got away with the plunder. We had broken up as hard a combination as +ever matched itself against the scarlet-coated keepers of the law; we +had gathered them in with the loot intact, and for this signal service +we had hopes that the powers that be would overlook the break we made on +Lost River ridge. Lessard had created a damnatory piece of evidence +against himself by lifting the post funds; that in itself would bear +witness to the truth of our story. It might take the authorities a while +to get the proper focus on the tangle, but we could stand that, seeing +that we had won against staggering odds. + +From the mouth of Sage Creek to Fort Walsh it is a fraction over fifty +miles, across comparatively flat country. By the time our breakfast was +done we calculated it to be ten o'clock. We had the half of a long +mid-summer day to make it. So, partly because we might find the full +fifty miles an ash-strewn waste, fodderless, blackened, where an +afternoon halt would be a dreary sojourn, and partly for the sake of the +three good horses we had pushed so unmercifully through the early hours +of the night, we laid on the grassy river-bottom till noon. Then we +packed, placed the sullen captives in the saddle with hands lashed +stoutly, mounted our horses and recrossed the river. Once on the uplands +we struck the long trot--eight hours of daylight to make fifty miles. +And we made it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +THE PIPE OF PEACE. + + +Twenty minutes after the sunset gun awoke the echoes along Battle Creek +we slipped quietly into Fort Walsh and drew rein before the official +quarters of the officer of the day; a stiffened, saddle-weary group, +grimy with the sooty ash of burned prairies. From the near-by barracks +troopers craned through windows, and gathered in doorways. For a moment +I thought the office was deserted, but before we had time to dismount, +the captain ranking next to Lessard appeared from within, and behind him +came a medium-sized man, gray-haired and pleasant of countenance, at +sight of whom MacRae straightened in his saddle with a stifled +exclamation and repeated the military salute. + +The captain stared in frank astonishment as MacRae got stiffly out of +his saddle and helped Lyn to the ground. Then he snapped out some sharp +question, but the gray-haired one silenced him with a gesture. + +"Softly, softly, Stone," he said. "Let the man explain voluntarily." + +"Beg to report, sir," MacRae began evenly, "that we have captured the +men who robbed Flood, murdered those two miners, and held up the +paymaster. Also that we have recovered all the stolen money." + +"What sort of cock-and-bull story is this?" Stone broke in angrily. +"Preposterous! Orderly, call----" + +"Easy, easy now, Captain Stone," the older man cut in sharply. "A man +doesn't make a statement like that without some proof. By the way," he +asked abruptly, "how did you manage to elude Major Lessard and get in +here?" + +MacRae pointed to one of the horses. "We didn't elude him. You'll find +what's left of the black-hearted devil under that canvas," he answered +coolly. "Lessard was at the bottom of the crookedness. We've packed him +and Paul Gregory fifty miles for you to see." + +"Ha!" the old fellow seemed not so surprised as I had expected. He +glanced over the lot of us and let another long-drawn "ha" escape. + +"May I ask a favor, Colonel Allen?" MacRae continued. "This lady has had +a hard day. Will you excuse her, for the present? We have a story to +tell that you may find hard to credit." + +The colonel (I'd heard of him before; I knew when MacRae spoke his name +that he was Commander-in-Chief of the Northwest Mounted Police, the +biggest gun of all) favored us with another appraising stare. + +"These men, I take it, are prisoners?" he said, pointing to Hicks and +Bevans. + +"You bet your sweet life them's prisoners," Piegan broke in with +cheerful assurance. "Them gentlemen is candidates for a rope necktie +apiece--nice perfessional assassins t' have in the Police!" + +Allen turned to the orderly. "A detail of four from the guardhouse on +the double-quick," he commanded. + +Captain Stone stood by gnawing his mustache while Allen listened +unmoved as MacRae pointed out the horse on which was packed the bulk of +the loot, and gave him a brief outline of the abduction and the +subsequent fight at the mouth of Sage Creek. The orderly returned with +the detail, and Allen courteously sent him to escort Lyn to the +hospitality of Bat Perkins' wife, as MacRae asked. After which the guard +marshaled Piegan, MacRae, and me, along with Hicks and Bevans, into the +room where MacRae and Lessard had clashed that memorable day. Then they +carried in the two bodies and laid them on the floor, and last of all +the pack that held Hank Rowan's gold and the government currency. + +While this was being done an orderly flitted from house to house on +officers' row; the calm, pleasant-voiced, shrewd old Commissioner +gathered his captains about him for a semi-official hearing. The dusk +faded into night. Here and there about the post lights began to twinkle. +We stood about in the ante-room, silent under the vigilant eye of the +guard. After an uncertain period of waiting, the orderly called "Gordon +MacRae," and the inquisition began. + +One at a time they put us on the rack--probing each man's story down to +the smallest detail. It was long after midnight when the questioning was +at an end. The finale came when a trooper searched the bodies of Lessard +and Gregory, and relieved Hicks and Bevans of the plunder that was still +concealed about their persons. They counted the money solemnly, on the +same desk by which Lessard stood when MacRae flung that hot challenge in +his teeth, and lost his stripes as the penalty. Outside, the wind arose +and whoo-_ee_-ed around the corner of the log building; inside, there +was a strained quiet, broken only by the occasional rattle of a loose +window, the steady chink--chink of coin slipping through fingers, the +crisp rustle of bills, like new silk. And when it was done Allen leaned +back in his chair, patting the arm of it with one hand, and surveyed the +neatly piled money and the three buckskin sacks on the desk before him. +Then he stood up, very erect and stern in the yellow lamplight. + +"Take those men to the guardhouse," he ordered curtly, pointing an +accusing finger at Hicks and Bevans. "Iron them securely--securely!" + +He turned to me. "I regret that it will be necessary for you to wait +some little time, Flood, before your money can be restored to you," he +said in a pleasanter tone. "There will be certain formalities to go +through, you understand. You will also be required as a witness at the +forthcoming trial. We shall be glad to furnish you and Smith with +comfortable quarters until then. It is late, but MacRae knows these +barracks, and doubtless he can find you a temporary sleeping place. +And, in conclusion, I wish to compliment all three of you on the +courage and resource you displayed in tracking down these damnable +scoundrels--_damnable_ scoundrels." + +He fairly exploded that last phrase. I daresay it was something of a +blow to his pride in the Force to learn that such deviltry had actually +been fathered by one of his trusted officers; something the same +sorrowful anger that stirs a man when one of his own kin goes wrong. +Then, as if he were half-ashamed of his burst of feeling, he dismissed +us with a wave of his hand and a gruff "That's all, to-night." + + * * * * * + +That practically was the finish of the thing. There was, of course, a +trial, at which Hicks and Bevans were convicted out of hand and duly +sentenced to be hung--a sentence that was carried out with neatness and +despatch in the near future. Also, I did manage, in the fullness of +time, to deliver La Pere's ten thousand dollars without further +gun-play. + +Colonel Allen knew a good man when he saw one--he was not long in +demonstrating that fact. When everything was straightened out, +MacRae--urged thereto by Lyn--made a straightforward request for +honorable discharge But he did not get it. Instead, the gray-haired +Commissioner calmly offered him promotion to an Inspectorship, which is +equivalent to the rank of a captain, and carries pay of two thousand a +year. And MacRae, of course, accepted. + +The day he cast off the old red jacket of the rank and file and put on +the black uniform with braid looped back and forth across the front of +it, and gold hieroglyphics on the collar, Piegan Smith and I stood up +with him and Lyn and helped them get fitted to double harness. Not that +there was any lack of other folk; indeed, it seemed to me that the +official contingent of Fort Walsh had turned out en masse to attend the +ceremony. But Piegan and I were the star guests. + + * * * * * + +Ah, well, we can't always be young and full of the pure joy of living. +One must grow old. And inevitably one looks back with a pang, and sighs +for the vanished days. But Time keeps his scythe a-swinging, and we go +out--like a snuffed candle. We _lived_, though, we who frolicked along +the forty-ninth parallel when Civilization stood afar and viewed the +scene askance; but she came down upon us and took possession fast enough +when that wild land was partly tamed, and now few are left of those who +knew and loved the old West, its perils, its hardships, its bigness of +heart and readiness of hand. Such of us as remain are like the buffalo +penned in national parks--a sorry remnant of the days that were. + + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Raw Gold, by Bertrand W. 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Sinclair + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p { margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + visibility: hidden; + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + + .linenum {position: absolute; top: auto; left: 4%;} /* poetry number */ + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%;} + + .bb {border-bottom: solid 2px;} + .bl {border-left: solid 2px;} + .bt {border-top: solid 2px;} + .br {border-right: solid 2px;} + .bbox {border: solid 2px;} + + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Raw Gold, by Bertrand W. Sinclair + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Raw Gold + A Novel + +Author: Bertrand W. Sinclair + +Illustrator: Clarence H. Rowe + +Release Date: June 12, 2006 [EBook #18563] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAW GOLD *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Janet Blenkinship and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/imgcover.jpg" alt="Front Cover" title="Front Cover" /></div> +<p><br /><br /></p> +<p><a name="frontis" id="frontis"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img01.jpg" alt="HICKS DREW HIS" title="HICKS DREW HIS" /></div> + +<h4>HICKS DREW HIS AND SLAPPED ME OVER THE HEAD WITH IT,<br /> +EVEN AS MY FINGER CURLED ON THE TRIGGER.<br /> +<a href='#Page_161'><i>Page 161.</i></a></h4> + + + + + +<h1>RAW GOLD</h1> + +<h3>A NOVEL</h3> + +<h4>BY</h4> + +<h2>BERTRAND W. SINCLAIR</h2> + +<h4><i>Illustrations by</i><br /> +CLARENCE H. ROWE</h4> + +<p class='center'>G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY +PUBLISHERS NEW YORK</p> + + + +<p class='center'>Copyright, 1907, by<br /> +STREET & SMITH<br /><br /> + +Copyright, 1908, by<br /> +G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY<br /><br /> + +Issued June, 1908</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" width="65%" cellspacing="0" summary="Contents"> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.—The Long Arm of the Law</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.—A Reminiscent Hour</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.—Birds of Prey</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.—A Tale Half Told</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.—Mounted Again</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.—Stony Crossing</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.—Thirty Days in Irons</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.—Lyn</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.—An Idle Afternoon</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.—The Vanishing Act, and the Fruits Thereof</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.—The Gentleman Who Rode in the Lead</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.—We Lose Again</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.—Outlawed</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.—A Close Call</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.—Piegan Takes a Hand</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.—In the Camp of the Enemy</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.—A Master-stroke of Villainy</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.—Honor Among Thieves</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.—The Bison</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.—The Mouth of Sage Creek</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.—An Elemental Ally</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.—Speechless Hicks</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII.—The Spoils of War</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV.—The Pipe of Peace</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary="List of Illustrations"> +<tr><td align='left'> </td><td align='right'>PAGE</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Hicks drew his and slapped me over the head with it,</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>even as my finger curled on the trigger</td><td align='right'><a href='#frontis'><i>Frontispiece</i></a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>Bedded in the soft earth underneath lay the slim buckskin sacks</td><td align='right'><a href='#bedded'>159</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>"There's been too much blood shed over that wretched</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>gold already. Let them have it"</td><td align='right'><a href='#bloodshed'>212</a></td></tr> +<tr><td> </td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>A war for the open road against an enemy whose only</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'>weapon was his unswerving bulk</td><td align='right'><a href='#a_war'>256</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><br /><br /></p> +<h1>RAW GOLD.</h1> +<p><br /><br /></p> + +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + + +<h3>THE LONG ARM OF THE LAW.</h3> + + +<p>How many of us, I wonder, can look back over the misty, half-forgotten +years and not see a few that stand out clear and golden, sharp-cut +against the sky-line of memory? Years that we wish we could live again, +so that we might revel in every full-blooded hour. For we so seldom get +the proper focus on things until we look at them through the clarifying +telescope of Time; and then one realizes with a pang that he can't +back-track into the past and take his old place in the passing show.</p> + +<p>Would we, if we could? It's an idle question, I know; wise men and musty +philosophers say that regrets are foolish. But I speak for myself only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +when I say that I would gladly wheedle old, gray-bearded <i>Tempus</i> into +making the wheels click backward till I could see again the +buffalo-herds darkening the green of Northwestern prairies. They and the +blanket Indian have passed, and the cowpuncher and Texas longhorns that +replaced them will soon be little more than a vivid memory. Already the +man with the plow is tearing up the brown sod that was a stamping-ground +for each in turn; the wheat-fields have doomed the sage-brush, and +truck-farms line the rivers where the wild cattle and the elk came down +to drink.</p> + +<p>It was a big life while it lasted—primitive, exhilarating, spiced with +dangers that added zest to the game; the petty, sordid things of life +only came in on the iron trail. There was no place for them in the old +West, the dead-and-gone West that will soon be forgotten.</p> + +<p>I expect nearly everybody between the Arctic Circle and the Isthmus of +Panama has heard more or less of the Northwest Mounted Police. They're +changing with the years, like everything else in this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> one-time buffalo +country, but when Canada sent them out to keep law and order in a +territory that was a City of Refuge for a lot of tough people who had +played their string out south of the line, they were, as a dry old +codger said about the Indian as a scalp-lifter, naturally fitted for the +task. And it was no light task, then, for six hundred men to keep the +peace on a thousand miles of frontier.</p> + +<p>It doesn't seem long ago, but it was in '74 that they filed down the +gangway of a Missouri River boat, walking as straight and stiff as if +every mother's son of them had a ramrod under his tunic, and out on a +rickety wharf that was groaning under the weight of a king's ransom in +baled buffalo-hides.</p> + +<p>"Huh!" old Piegan Smith grunted in my ear. "Look at 'em, with their +solemn faces. There'll be heaps uh fun in the Cypress Hills country when +they get t' runnin' the whisky-jacks out. Ain't they a queer-lookin' +bunch?"</p> + +<p>They were a queer-looking lot to more than Piegan. Their uniforms fitted +as if they had grown<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> into them; scarlet jackets buttoned to the throat, +black riding-breeches with a yellow stripe running down the outer seam +of each leg, and funny little round caps like the lid of a big +baking-powder can set on one side of their heads, held there by a narrow +strap that ran around the chin. But for all their comic-opera get-up, +there was many a man that snickered at them that day in Benton who +learned later to dread the flash of a scarlet jacket on the distant +hills.</p> + +<p>They didn't linger long at Benton, but got under way and marched +overland to the Cypress Hills. On Battle Creek they built the first +post, Fort Walsh, and though in time they located others, Walsh remained +headquarters for the Northwest so long as buffalo-hunting and the Indian +trade endured. And Benton and Walsh were linked together by great +freight-trails thereafter, for the Mounted Police supplies came up the +Missouri and traveled by way of long bull-trains to their destination; +there was no other way then; Canada was a wilderness, and Benton with +its boats from St.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> Louis was the gateway to the whole Northwest.</p> + +<p>Two years from the time Fort Walsh was built the La Pere outfit sent me +across the line in charge of a bunch of saddle-horses the M. P. +quartermaster had said he'd buy if they were good. I turned them over +the afternoon I reached Walsh, and inside of forty-eight hours I was +headed home with the sale-money—ten thousand dollars—in big bills, so +that I could strap it round my middle. I remember that on the hill south +of the post the three of us, two horse-wranglers and myself, flipped a +dollar to see whether we kept to the Assiniboine trail or struck across +country. It was a mighty simple transaction, but it produced some +startling results for me, that same coin-spinning. The eagle came +uppermost, and the eagle meant the open prairie for us. So we aimed for +Stony Crossing, and let our horses jog; there were three of us, well +mounted, and we had plenty of grub on a pack-horse; it seemed that our +homeward trip should be a pleasant jaunt. It certainly never entered my +head that I should soon have ample opportunity to see how high the +"Riders<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> of the Plains" stacked up when they undertook to enforce +Canadian law and keep intact the peace and dignity of the Crown.</p> + +<p>We had started early that morning, and by the time we thought of camping +for dinner we saw ahead of us what we could tell was a white man's camp. +It wasn't far, so we kept on, and presently it developed that we had +accidentally come upon old Piegan Smith. He was lying there ostensibly +resting his stock from the hard buffalo-running of the past winter, but +I knew the old rascal's horses were more weary from a load of moonshine +whisky they had lately jerked into the heart of the territory. But he +was there, anyway, and half a dozen choice spirits with him, and when +we'd said "Howdy" all around they proceeded to spring a keg of whisky on +us.</p> + +<p>Now, the whole Northwest groaned beneath a cast-iron prohibition law at +that time, and for some years thereafter. No booze of any description +was supposed to be sold in that portion of the Queen's domain. If you +got so thirsty you couldn't stand<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> it any longer, you could petition the +governing power of the Territory for what was known as a "permit," which +same document granted you leave and license to have in your possession +one gallon of whisky. If you were a person of irreproachable character, +and your humble petition reached his excellency when he was amiably +disposed, you might, in the course of a few weeks, get the desired +permission—but, any way you figured it, whisky was hard to get, and +when you got it it came mighty high.</p> + +<p>Naturally, that sort of thing didn't appeal to many of the +high-stomached children of fortune who ranged up and down the +Territory—being nearly all Americans, born with the notion that it is a +white man's incontestable right to drink whatever he pleases whenever it +pleases him. Consequently, every mother's son of them who knew how +rustled a "worm," took up his post in some well-hidden coulée close to +the line, and inaugurated a small-sized distillery. Others, with less +skill but just as much ambition, delivered it in four-horse loads to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +the traders, who in turn "boot-legged" it to whosoever would buy. Some +of them got rich at it, too; which wasn't strange, when you consider +that everybody had a big thirst and plenty of money to gratify it. I've +seen barrels of moonshine whisky, so new and rank that two drinks of it +would make a jack-rabbit spit in a bull-dog's face, sold on the quiet +for six and seven dollars a quart—and a twenty-dollar gold piece was +small money for a gallon.</p> + +<p>All this, of course, was strictly against the peace and dignity of the +powers that were, and so the red-coated men rode the high divides with +their eagle eye peeled for any one who looked like a whisky-runner. And +whenever they did locate a man with the contraband in his possession, +that gentleman was due to have his outfit confiscated and get a chance +to ponder the error of his ways in the seclusion of a Mounted Police +guardhouse if he didn't make an exceedingly fast getaway.</p> + +<p>We all took a drink when these buffalo-hunters produced the "red-eye." +So far as the right or wrong of having contraband whisky was concerned,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +I don't think any one gave it a second thought. The patriarchal decree +of the government was a good deal of a joke on the plains, +anyway—except when you were caught defying it! Then Piegan Smith set +the keg on the ground by the fire where everybody could help himself as +he took the notion, and I laid down by a wagon while dinner was being +cooked.</p> + +<p>After six weeks of hard saddle-work, it struck me just right to lie +there in the shade with a cool breeze fanning my face, and before long I +was headed smoothly for the Dreamland pastures. I hadn't dozed very long +when somebody scattered my drowsiness with an angry yelp, and I raised +up on one elbow to see what was the trouble.</p> + +<p>Most of the hunters were bunched on one side of the fire, and they were +looking pretty sour at a thin, trim-looking Mounted Policeman who was +standing with his back to me, holding the whisky-keg up to his nose. A +little way off stood his horse, bridle-reins dragging, surveying the +little group with his ears pricked up as if he, too, could smell<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> the +whisky. The trooper sniffed a moment and set the keg down.</p> + +<p>"Gentlemen," he asked, in a soft, drawly voice that had a mighty +familiar note that puzzled me, "have you a permit to have whisky in your +possession?"</p> + +<p>Nobody said a word. There was really nothing they could say. He had them +dead to rights, for it was smuggled whisky, and they knew that policeman +was simply asking as a matter of form, and that his next move would be +to empty the refreshments on the ground; if they got rusty about it he +<i>might</i> haze the whole bunch of us into Fort Walsh—and that meant each +of us contributing a big, fat fine to the Queen's exchequer.</p> + +<p>"You know the law," he continued, in that same mild tone. "Where is your +authority to have this stuff?"</p> + +<p>Then the clash almost came. If old Piegan Smith hadn't been sampling the +contents of that keg so industriously he would never have made a break. +For a hot-tempered, lawless sort of an old repro<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>bate, he had good +judgment, which a man surely needed if he wanted to live out his +allotted span in the vicinity of the forty-ninth parallel those troubled +days. But he'd put enough of the fiery stuff under his belt to make him +touchy as a parlor-match, and when the trooper, getting no answer, +flipped the keg over on its side and the whisky trickled out among the +grass-roots, Piegan forgot that he was in an alien land where the law is +upheld to the last, least letter and the arm of it is long and +unrelenting.</p> + +<p>"Here's my authority, yuh blasted runt," he yelled, and jerked his +six-shooter to a level with the policeman's breast. "Back off from that +keg, or I'll hang your hide to dry on my wagon-wheel in a holy minute!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>A REMINISCENT HOUR.</h3> + + +<p>The policeman's shoulders stiffened, and he put one foot on the keg. He +made no other move; but if ever a man's back was eloquent of +determination, his was. From where I lay I could see the fingers of his +left hand shut tight over his thumb, pressing till the knuckles were +white and the cords in the back of his hand stood out in little ridges. +I'd seen <i>that</i> before, and I recalled with a start when and where I'd +heard that soft, drawly voice. I knew I wasn't mistaken in the man, +though his face was turned from me, and I likewise knew that old Piegan +Smith was nearer kingdom come than he'd been for many a day, if he did +have the drop on the man with the scarlet jacket. He was holding his +pistol on a double back-action, rapid-fire gun-fighter, and only the +fact that Piegan was half drunk and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> other performing an impersonal +duty had so far prevented the opening of a large-sized package of +trouble. While on the surface Smith had all the best of it, he needed +that advantage, and more, to put himself on an even footing with Gordon +MacRae in any dispute that had to be arbitrated with a Colt; for MacRae +was the cool-headed, virile type of man that can keep his feet and burn +powder after you've planted enough lead in his system to sink him in +swimming water.</p> + +<p>There was a minute of nasty silence. Smith glowered behind his cocked +pistol, and the policeman faced the frowning gun, motionless, waiting +for the flutter of Piegan's eye that meant action. The gurgling keg was +almost empty when he spoke again.</p> + +<p>"Don't be a fool, Smith," he said quietly. "You can't buck the whole +Force, you know, even if you managed to kill me. You know the sort of +orders we have about this whisky business. Put up your gun."</p> + +<p>Piegan heard him, all right, but his pistol never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> wavered. His thin +lips were pinched close, so tight the scrubby beard on his chin stood +straight out in front; his chest was heaving, and the angry blood stood +darkly red under his tanned cheeks. Altogether, he looked as if his +trigger finger might crook without warning. It was one of those long +moments that makes a fellow draw his breath sharp when he thinks about +it afterward. If any one had made an unexpected move just then, there +would have been sudden death in that camp. And while the lot of us sat +and stood about perfectly motionless, not daring to say a word one way +or the other, lest the wrathful old cuss squinting down the gun-barrel +<i>would</i> shoot, the policeman took his foot off the empty cause of the +disturbance, and deliberately turning his back on Piegan's leveled +six-shooter, walked calmly over to his waiting horse.</p> + +<p>Smith stared after him, frankly astonished. Then he lowered his gun. +"The nerve uh the darned——Say! don't go off mad," he yelled, his anger +evaporating, changing on the instant to admiration for the other's +cold-blooded courage. "Yuh spilled all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> the whisky, darn yuh—but then I +guess yuh don't know any better'n t' spoil good stuff that away. No hard +feelin's, anyhow. Stop an' eat dinner with us, an' we'll call it +square."</p> + +<p>The policeman withdrew his foot from the stirrup and smiled at Piegan +Smith, and Piegan, to show that his intentions were good, impulsively +unbuckled his cartridge-belt and threw belt and six-shooters on the +ground.</p> + +<p>"I don't hanker for trouble with a <i>hombre</i> like you," he grunted. "I +guess I was a little bit hasty, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"I call you," the policeman said, and stripping the saddle and bridle +from his sweaty horse, turned him loose to graze.</p> + +<p>"Hello, Mac!" I hailed, as he walked up to the fire. He turned at the +sound of my voice with vastly more concern than he'd betrayed under the +muzzle of Piegan's gun.</p> + +<p>"Sarge himself!" he exclaimed. "Beats the devil how old trails cross, +eh?"</p> + +<p>"It sure does," I retorted, and our hands met.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> + +<p>He sat down beside me and began to roll a cigarette. You wouldn't call +that a very demonstrative greeting between two old <i>amigos</i> who'd bucked +mesquite and hair-lifting Comanches together, all over the Southwest. It +had been many a moon since we took different roads, but MacRae hadn't +changed that I could see. That was his way—he never slopped over, no +matter how he felt. If ever a mortal had a firm grip on his emotions, +MacRae had, and yet there was a sleeping devil within him that was never +hard to wake. But his looks gave no hint of the real man under the +surface placidity; you'd never have guessed what possibilities lay +behind that immobile face, with its heavy-lashed hazel eyes and plain, +thin-lipped mouth that tilted up just a bit at the corners. We had +parted in the Texas Panhandle five years before—an unexpected, +involuntary separation that grew out of a poker game with a tough crowd. +The tumultuous events of that night sent me North in undignified haste, +for I am not warlike by nature, and Texas was no longer healthy for me +unless I cared to follow up a bloody<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> feud. But I'd left Mac a +trail-boss for the whitest man in the South, likewise engaged to the +finest girl in any man's country; and it's a far cry from punching cows +in Texas to wearing the Queen's colors and keeping peace along the +border-line. I knew, though, that he'd tell me the how and why of it in +his own good time, if he meant that I should know.</p> + +<p>One or two of the buffalo-hunters exchanged words with us while Mac was +building his cigarette and lighting it. Old Piegan stretched himself in +the grass, and in a few moments was snoring energetically, his grizzled +face bared to the cloudless sky. The camp grew still, except for the +rough and ready cook pottering about the fire, boiling buffalo-meat and +mixing biscuit-dough. The fire crackled around the Dutch ovens, and the +odor of coffee came floating by. Then Mac hunched himself against a +wagon-wheel and began to talk.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it looks odd to you, Sarge, to see me in this rig?" he asked +whimsically. "It beats punching cows, though—that is, when a fellow +discovers that he isn't a successful cowpuncher."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Does it?" I returned dryly. "You were making good in the cow business +last time I saw you. What did you see in the Mounted Police that took +your fancy?"</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders philosophically. "They're making history in +this neck of the woods," he said, "and I joined for lack of something +better to do. You'll find us a cosmopolitan lot, and not bad specimens +as men go. It's a tolerably satisfying life—once you get out of the +ranks."</p> + +<p>"How about that?" I queried; and as I asked the question I noticed for +the first time the gilt bars on his coat sleeve. "You've got past the +buck trooper stage then? How long have you been in the force?"</p> + +<p>"Joined the year they took over the Territory," he replied. "Yes, I've +prospered in the service. Got to be a sergeant; I'm in charge of a +line-post on Milk River—Pend d' Oreille. You'd better come on over and +stay with me a day or two, Sarge."</p> + +<p>"I was heading in that direction," I answered, "only I expected to cross +the river farther up. But,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> man, I never thought to see you up here. I +thought you'd settled down for keeps; supposed you were playing +major-domo for the Double R down on the Canadian River, and the father +of a family by this time. How we do get switched around in this old +world."</p> + +<p>"Don't we, though," he said reflectively. "It's a great game. You never +know when nor where your trail is liable to fork and lead you to new +countries and new faces, or maybe plumb over the big divide. Oh, well, +it'll be all the same a hundred years from now, as Bill Frayne used to +say."</p> + +<p>"You've turned cynic," I told him, and he smiled.</p> + +<p>"No," he declared, "I rather think I'd be classed as a philosopher; if +you could call a man a philosopher who can enjoy hammering over this +bald country, chasing up whisky-runners and hazing non-treaty Indians +onto reservations, and raising hell generally in the name of the law. +Still, I don't take life as seriously as I used to. What's the use? We +eat and drink and sleep and work and fight because it's the nature of us +two-legged brutes; but<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> there's no use getting excited about it, because +things never turn out exactly the way you expect them to, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"If that's your philosophy of life," I bantered, "you ought to make a +rattling good policeman. I can see where a calm, dispassionate front +would save a man a heap of trouble, at this sort of thing."</p> + +<p>"Josh all you like," MacRae laughed, "but I tell you a man does save +himself a heap of trouble when he doesn't get too anxious whether things +come out just as he wants them to or not. Six or seven years ago I +couldn't have done this sort of work. I've changed, I reckon. There was +a time when I'd have felt that there was only one way to settle a row +like I just had. And the chances are that I would have wound up by +putting that old boy's light out. Which wouldn't have helped matters any +for me, and certainly would have been tough on old Piegan Smith—who +happens to be a pretty fair sort; only playing the opposite side of the +game."</p> + +<p>As if the low-spoken sound of his name had reached his ears and +electrified him, Piegan sat up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> very suddenly, and at the same instant +the cook sounded the long call. So we broke off our chat, and getting a +tin plate and cup and a set of eating-implements, we helped ourselves +from the Dutch ovens and squatted in the grass to eat.</p> + +<p>When we'd finished, one of the hunters rounded up the horses and we +caught our nags and saddled them. MacRae was going back to his post that +night, and I also was in haste to be traveling—that ten thousand +dollars of another man's money was a responsibility I wanted to be rid +of without the least possible delay. Pend d' Oreille was twenty-five or +thirty miles south of us—a long afternoon's ride, but MacRae and I were +glad of each other's company, and it was worth while straining a point +to have even one night's shelter at a Police camp in that semi-hostile +country. There were no road-agents to speak of, for sums of money large +enough to tempt gentry of that ilk seldom passed over those isolated +trails; but here and there stray parties of Stonies and Blackfeet, young +bucks in war-paint and breech-clout, hot on the trail of their first +medi<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>cine, skulked warily among the coulée-scarred ridges, keeping in +touch with the drifting buffalo-herds and alert for a chance to ambush a +straggling white man and lift his hair. They weren't particularly +dangerous, except to a lone man, still there was always the chance of +running slap into them, in which case they usually made a more or less +vigorous attempt to wipe you out. A red coat, however, was a passport to +safety; even so early in the game the copper-colored brother had learned +that the Mounted Police were a hard combination—an enemy who never +turned back when he took the war-trail.</p> + +<p>When we were mounted Mac leaned over and muttered an admonitory word for +Piegan's ear alone. "Better lay low, Smith," he said, "and let the +boot-leggers go it on their own hook for a while. We are watching for +you. It's only a matter of time till somebody takes you in, because your +whisky is making lots of nasty work for us these days, and we've got +orders from the big chief to nail you if there's a show. I'm passing up +this<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> little affair to-day. That doesn't count. But the next time you +cross the river with a four-horse load of it I'll be on you like a wolf. +If I don't, some other fellow will. <i>Sabe?</i> Think it over."</p> + +<p>Smith bit off a huge chew of tobacco, while he digested MacRae's +warning. Then he looked up with a smile that broadened to a grin. +"You're all right," he said cheerfully. "I like your style. If I get the +worst of the deal, I won't holler. So-long!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>BIRDS OF PREY.</h3> + + +<p>Once clear of the buffalo-hunters' camp, MacRae and I paired off and +speedily began to compare notes, where we had been, what we had done, +how the world had used us in the five years since we had seen each other +last. And although we gabbled freely enough, MacRae avoided all mention +of the persons of whom I most wished to hear. I didn't press him, for I +knew that something out of the common must have happened, else he would +not have been wearing the Queen's scarlet, and I didn't care to bring up +a subject that might prove a sore one with him. But men we had known and +trails we had followed furnished us plenty of grist for the +conversational mill. Our talk ranged from the Panhandle to the Canada +line, while our horses jogged steadily southward.</p> + +<p>Dark came down on the four of us as we topped<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> Manyberries Ridge, and +seven or eight miles of rolling prairie still lay between us and +Pend d' Oreille. If Mac had been alone he would have made the post by +sundown, for the Mounted Police rode picked horses, the best money could +buy. But it was a long jaunt to Benton, and the rest of us were inclined +to an easier pace, that we might husband the full strength of our +grass-fed mounts for any emergency that should arise on the way.</p> + +<p>With the coming of night a pall of clouds blew out of the west, +blanketing the stars and shutting off their hazy light completely, and +when the sky was banked full from horizon to horizon, the dark enveloped +us like a black sea-mist. Once or twice we startled a little bunch of +buffalo, and listened to the thud of their hoofs as they fled through +the sultry, velvet gloom; but for the most our ride was attended by no +sounds save the night song of frogs in the upland sloughs and the hollow +clank of steel bits keeping time to the creak of saddle-leather.</p> + +<p>Halfway down the long slope MacRae and I, riding in the lead, pulled up +to make a cigarette<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> on the brink of a straight-walled coulée that we +could sense but not see. As I waited for Mac to strike a match my eyes +roved about, seeking to pierce the unnatural blackness that wrapped +itself about us, and while my gaze was for an instant fixed on the +night-enshrouded canyon, a red tongue of flame flashed out for a moment +in the inky shadow below. MacRae saw it also, and held the match +unstruck.</p> + +<p>"Must be somebody camped down there," I hazarded.</p> + +<p>"A camp-fire would hardly flash and die out like that, Sarge," he +answered thoughtfully. "At least, not an ordinary one. There are some +folk in this country, you know, who manifest a very retiring disposition +at times. That looks to me like a blind fire or a signal. Let's wait a +minute."</p> + +<p>We sat there on our horses, grouped close together, a minute that +lengthened to five; then MacRae broke off in the middle of a sentence as +the flare leaped up, flickered an instant, and was blotted out again. I +could have sworn I heard a cry, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> one of my men spoke in a tone that +assured me my imagination had not been playing a trick.</p> + +<p>"Hear that?" he asked eagerly. "Somebody hollered down there."</p> + +<p>"I don't much like that," MacRae said, in a low tone. "I have a hunch +that something crooked is going on, and I reckon I'll go down and see +what that fire means. You fellows better go a little farther and wait +for me."</p> + +<p>"Not on your life," I protested. "You might run into most any kind of +formation. We'll go in a bunch, if we go at all."</p> + +<p>"Might be Injuns," Bruce Haggin put in. "An', anyhow, whatever play +comes up, four men's a heap better'n one. If you're bound t' mix in, +why, lead the way. I'm kinda curious about what's down there m'self."</p> + +<p>So near to the post it was that MacRae almost knew the feel of the +ground underfoot. He led us a hundred yards along the rim of the bank +and stopped again.</p> + +<p>"This is as good a place as any, but you'll have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> to get down and lead +your horses," he warned. "It's a devil of a scramble from here to the +bottom."</p> + +<p>We dismounted, and speedily found that MacRae hadn't exaggerated the +evil qualities of that descent. If there had been boulders on that +hillside the noise of our coming would have alarmed a deaf man; but the +soft dirt and slippery grass gave out no sound, though we slid and +tumbled and dug in our heels for a foothold till the sweat streamed down +our cheeks.</p> + +<p>At the bottom we mounted again and followed MacRae in a cautious file +around clumps of willow and rustling quaking-asp to the place where the +blaze should have shown. But no glint of fire appeared in any direction; +the coulée-bottom lay more dark and silent, if that were possible, than +the gloomy hills above. Perplexed, MacRae halted, and we bunched +together, whispering, each of us straining his eyes and ears to catch +some sight or sound of life in that black, ghostly quiet. We might have +concluded that our senses had been playing pranks at our expense, that +the flame we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> had seen from the ridge was purely an imaginary thing, but +for the rank, unmistakable odor of burning wood—a smell no man bred in +a land of camp-fires can mistake. We were near it, wherever it was, but +how near we had no means of knowing.</p> + +<p>After a bit of waiting, Mac decided that the smoke was floating from a +certain direction, and we began to edge carefully that way. Presently we +circled a clump of brush, to come near riding right into a banked fire, +barely visible, even at short range, under its covering of earth. A +dimly outlined bulk lay beside it, and leaning over in our saddles, the +faint glow of the coals revealed a man's body, half stripped of its +clothing, and—oh, well, such things are so utterly devilish you +wouldn't credit it. It's bad enough to kill, even when it's necessary; +but I never could understand how a white man could take a leaf out of +the Indian's torture-book.</p> + +<p>The fire had been heaped over with earth—to screen it from prying eyes, +I suppose, while the good work went on. We got off our horses and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +stooped over the man, forgetting for the moment that danger might lurk +in the surrounding thicket. Mac swore under his breath when he bent and +peered keenly at the man's face; then he straightened up and kicked a +part of the clay covering from the smoldering embers. As the bright glow +of a little cascade of sparks pierced the darkness, a voice in our rear +called sharply: "Hands up!" and we swung round to behold two masked +faces regarding us from behind steadily held Winchesters.</p> + +<p>The very suddenness of the hold-up made it a complete success. Apart, +and moving, we might have scattered in the brush like young quail, and +so have been able to give the gentlemen a hard run for the money. But we +were bunched together, shocked out of all caution, staring at the +pitiful figure at our feet when MacRae unmasked the fire, and the flare +of it surrounded us with a yellow nimbus that made us fair marks for a +gun. With that dazzling light in our eyes and those ugly-looking +customers at the business end of the guns, it would have been out and +out suicide to reach for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> a six-shooter. For at that period in +Northwestern history, when a man had the drop on you under such +conditions, there was absolutely no question of what would happen if you +made a suspicious move. We were fairly caught, and there was nothing to +do but elevate our digits and paw the air as commanded.</p> + +<p>It took one of those Western Turpins about a minute to relieve us of our +artillery, after which he silently proceeded to lead our horses out of +sight. When he did that I began to hope the horses were all they wanted, +that they had no knowledge of the money I carried; but my hopes died an +early death, for he was back in a moment, and the man behind the gun +indicated me with a motion of the Winchester.</p> + +<p>"That long, stoop-shouldered gazabo's got the stuff on him," he growled.</p> + +<p>There was half a second when I entertained a wild notion of getting +fractious. A fellow hates to make a bungle of the first decent trust +he's had in a long time; but I was in a tight place, and I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> couldn't +figure where I'd delay giving up beyond the length of time it would take +the gentleman with the Winchester to drill me. Under the circumstances +it didn't take long to decide that it was a heap better all around to be +robbed alive than dead—they'd get the money anyway, and if I got myself +shot up to no purpose that would spoil all chance of getting back at +them later.</p> + +<p>The silent partner wasted no time in fruitless search of my person. He +seemed to know right where to look, which was another feature of the +play that I didn't <i>sabe</i> at the time. He reached down inside my shirt, +with a none too gentle hand, and relieved me of the belt that held the +money. Then the pair of them backed up, still covering us, and faded +away in the gloom.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>A TALE HALF TOLD.</h3> + + +<p>When they were gone we let our hands down to their natural level and +drew a long breath.</p> + +<p>"We appear to have got considerably the worst of this transaction," I +observed. "The La Pere outfit is shy something like ten thousand +dollars—we're afoot, minus everything but cigarette material. It's a +wonder they didn't take that, too. A damn good stroke of business, all +right," I finished, feeling mighty sore at myself. When it was too late, +I could think of half a dozen ways we might have avoided getting held +up.</p> + +<p>"I got you into it, too," MacRae said calmly. "But don't get excited and +run on the rope this early in the game, Sarge; you'll only throw +yourself. Brace up. We've been in worse holes before." Never a word of +what it might mean to him; never<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> even hinted that the high moguls at +Fort Walsh were more than likely to put him on the rack for letting any +such lawless work be carried out successfully, in his own district. A +Mounted Policeman can make no excuses for letting a tough customer slip +through his fingers; the only way he can escape censure is to be brought +in feet first.</p> + +<p>He motioned to the poor devil lying by the fire.</p> + +<p>"Look at him, Sarge," he went on, in a different tone. "You always had a +pretty good memory for faces. So have I, for that matter, but—go +ahead—look."</p> + +<p>I bent over the man, looked closely at the still features, dropped on +one knee and turned his face toward the firelight to make sure. I +recognized him instantly, and I knew that MacRae had no doubts of his +identity, for each of us had broken bread and slept in the same blankets +with that quiet figure.</p> + +<p>"It's Rutter," I whispered, and MacRae nodded silently.</p> + +<p>"He's done for, too—no, by God, he isn't!" I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> cried, and shrank +involuntarily, for his eyeballs rolled till only the whites showed in a +way that made me shudder. "He's not dead, yet, Mac!"</p> + +<p>"One of you fellows get some water," Mac commanded. He squatted beside +me, holding up Rutter's head. In a minute Bruce was back with his hat +full of water from the creek that whimpered just beyond the willow +patch. I peeled off my coat and spread it over the marred limbs, and +Bruce held the water so that I could dip in my hand and sprinkle +Rutter's face. After a little his mouth began to twitch. Queer gurgling +sounds issued from his throat. He moved his head slightly, looking from +me to MacRae. Presently he recognized us both; his face brightened.</p> + +<p>"Gimme a drink," he whispered huskily.</p> + +<p>Mac propped him up so that he could sip from the hat. He came near going +off again, but rallied, and in a second or two his lips framed a +question:</p> + +<p>"Did yuh—get 'em?"</p> + +<p>I shook my head. "You might say that they got us," I answered.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Who were they, Hans?" MacRae questioned eagerly. "And why did they do +this to you? We'll make them sweat blood for this night's work. Did you +know them? Tell us if you can."</p> + +<p>"No," Rutter spoke with a great effort. Each sentence came as if torn +piecemeal from his unwilling tongue; short, jerky phrases, conceived in +pain and delivered in agony. "We—me'n Hank Rowan—comin' from the +North—made a stake on the Peace. They started it—at the Stone—yuh +know—Writin'-Stone. Hank an' me—you'll find Hank in the +cottonwoods—Stony Crossin'. I tried—tried t' make Walsh. Two of +'em—masked—tried t' make me tell—tell 'em—where we made the <i>cache</i>. +I'm—I'm done—I guess. The dust, it's—it's—<i>a-a-ah</i>——"</p> + +<p>The gnarled hands shut up into clenched fists, and the feeble voice +trailed off in an agonized moan.</p> + +<p>I laved his pain-twisted face with the cool water and let a few drops +trickle into his open mouth. He gasped a few times, then, gathering +strength<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> again, went on with that horrible spasmodic recitation.</p> + +<p>"They were after us—a long time. Lyn's at Walsh. There's a—a good +stake. Get it—for her. It's <i>cached</i>—under the Stone—yuh +know—Writin'-Stone. Three sacks. That's what—they wanted. +You'll—you'll—on the rock above—marked—gold—raw gold—that's +it—gold—raw gold—Mac—I want—I want——"</p> + +<p>That was all. The tense muscles relaxed. His head fell back limp on +MacRae's arm, and the rest of the message went with the game old +Dutchman across the big divide. We laid him down gently, folded his arms +on his breast, and for a moment held our peace in tribute to his +passing.</p> + +<p>MacRae was first to speak.</p> + +<p>"There's a lot back of this that I can't understand," he said, more to +himself than to the rest of us. "It beats me why these two old cowmen +should be here in this country, tangled up with buried gold-dust, and +being hunted like beasts for its possession. Old Hans was certainly in +his right mind or he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> wouldn't have known us; and if he told us right, +Hank Rowan has been murdered too. If Lyn is at Walsh, she may be able to +shed some light on this. But I'll swear I feel like a man groping in a +dark room."</p> + +<p>"If Lyn is at Walsh," I asserted stoutly, "she got there since I left +this morning. I was there two days, and I wasn't in the background by +any means; and she's the sort of girl that isn't backward about hailing +a friend. We know one thing—the men that killed Rutter are the ones +that held us up, and got off with that money of mine. And say—how did +those fellows know I had that money and where I was carrying it? Good +Lord! it sounds like the plot of a dime novel."</p> + +<p>It was a stubborn riddle for us to try and read. And our surroundings at +that particular moment were not the most favorable to coherent thought +or plausible theory-building. When a man has been robbed at the point of +a gun, and set afoot in the heart of an unpeopled waste, with a dead man +and a dying fire for company, his nerves are apt to get a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> little bit on +edge. Things that wouldn't tax your fortitude in daylight look like the +works of the devil when you have to face them in the black hours of the +night. None of us are so far removed from savagery that a few grains of +superstition don't lurk in our souls, all ready to bob up if the setting +is appropriate. If it should ever be my lot to take the Long Trail at +short notice, I hope it will be under a blue sky and a blazing sun. It +was hard to be philosophic, or even decently calm, standing there in the +sickly glow of the fading coals with old Hans mutely reminding us that +life is a tenuous thread, easily snipped.</p> + +<p>A little night breeze rustling the willows about us brought into my mind +the fact that our masked acquaintances could easily sneak up and pot us +if, as an afterthought, they decided to do a really workmanlike job. +Doubt it? Wasn't the dead man stretched in the shadow convincing proof +of their capacity for pure devilishness? Read the history of those days +along the line, and you'll turn some red pages. There were no half-way +measures in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> code of an outlaw then; the pair who held us up would +have taken our lives as nonchalantly as they relieved us of our material +possessions had we proved in the least degree troublesome.</p> + +<p>I hinted what was in my mind to MacRae, and when he agreed that it was a +possible contingency, we filed out of the treacherous light and squatted +in the edge of a quaking-asp grove where we couldn't be seen, and where +a coyote, much less a man, couldn't steal up on us without the crackle +of dry brush betraying him.</p> + +<p>"What do you think you'll do, Sarge?" Mac whispered to me, while we sat +there undecided as to our next move. "Go on to Benton, or stay here on +the chance of breaking even?"</p> + +<p>"I've got to stick; it's the only thing I can do," I growled back. "I've +been sure enough whipsawed this deal, but I'm still in the game, and +when it comes to calling the last turn I'll be there with a stack of +blues. How in hell can I show my face in Benton while some other fellow +is packing the money La Pere trusted me to bring back? If I can<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> rustle +horses I'll send these two boys on home, with a note to the old man +explaining how the play came up. If those jaspers flash any part of the +roll in the Territory before snowfall, I'll get them. I've got to get +them, to square myself."</p> + +<p>"That would be my idea, if I were in your place," he answered. "If +they're like the average run of men that turn a trick of that kind, +they'll give themselves away in the long run. It's lucky, in a way, that +you had paper money instead of gold; the big bills will be their +downfall if they undertake to spend them in this country—and if old +Hans had it straight, they're not going to pull out with a measly ten +thousand dollars. It's an ugly mess, and liable to be worse before it's +cleaned up. If there is a stake like that <i>cached</i> around the Stone, +these land pirates will camp mighty close on the trail of anybody that +goes looking for it. And it won't be any Sunday-school picnic dealing +with them—they showed a strong hand there," he motioned to the place +where Rutter lay.</p> + +<p>"The best thing we can do," he continued, "is to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> drag it for Pend +d' Oreille, afoot. We have two extra horses there. We can get a little +sleep and move early in the morning. I'll have to report this thing in +person at Walsh, but before I do I want to know if Hank Rowan was really +killed at Stony Crossing. If we find him there as Rutter said, you can +gamble that trouble has camped in our dooryard for a lengthy stay. And +it might be a good idea for you to give your men a gentle hint to keep +their mouths closed about this affair—all of it. There's a slim chance +at the best of finding that gold, even if it's there, and it won't help +us nor the rest of the Force to run down the men who held us up, if +everybody on both sides of the line gets to talking about it."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell them," I agreed. "I reckon you have the right idea. I think +it's a cinch that if we land the men that set us afoot and got away with +the money, we'll have the cold-blooded brutes that put Hans Rutter's +light out. But I don't <i>sabe</i>, Mac, why those old-timers should be mixed +into a deal of this kind. Their cattle and range on the Canadian had a +gold-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>mine beat to death for money-making; old men like them don't jump +two thousand miles from home without mighty strong reasons."</p> + +<p>"They probably had, if we only knew," MacRae muttered. "I reckon we'd +better start; we can't do any good here."</p> + +<p>Mac led the way. The four of us slipped through the brushy bottom as +silently as men unaccustomed to walking might go, for we had no +hankering, unarmed as we were, to bring those red-handed marauders after +us again, if they happened to be lurking in that canyon. Rutter's body +we had no choice but to leave undisturbed by the blackening fire. In the +morning we would come back and bury him, but for that night—well, he +was beyond any man's power to aid or injure, lying there alone in the +dark.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>MOUNTED AGAIN.</h3> + + +<p>We stumbled along, close up, for the thick-piled clouds still hung their +light-obscuring banners over the sky. Three yards apart we became +invisible to each other. I followed behind MacRae more or less +mechanically, though I was, in a way, acutely conscious of the necessity +for stealthy going, one part of my mind busy turning over the quick +march of events and guessing haphazard at the future.</p> + +<p>Striding along in this mental semi-detachment from the business in hand, +some three hundred yards down the coulée I tripped over a fallen +cottonwood and drove the point of a projecting limb clean through the +upper of my boot and into the calf of my leg—not a disabling wound, but +one that lacked nothing in the way of pain. The others stopped while I +pulled out the snag, which had broken off<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> the trunk, and while I was +about this a familiar clattering noise uprose near-by. Ever hear a horse +shake himself, like a water-spaniel fresh from a dip, when he has been +tied for a long time in one place with the dead weight of a heavy stock +saddle on his back? There is a little by-play of grunting and clearing +of nostrils, then the slap of skirts and strings and stirrup-leathers—a +man never forgets or mistakes the sound of it, if he has ever slept in a +round-up camp with a dozen restless night-horses saddled and tied to a +wagon twenty feet from his bed. But it made us jump, welling up out of +the dark so unexpectedly and so near.</p> + +<p>"Saddle-horse—tied," Mac tersely commented. We squatted in the long +grass and buck-brush, listening, and a few seconds later heard a horse +snort distinctly. This sound was immediately followed by the steady beat +of an impatient forefoot.</p> + +<p>"Over yonder," I said. "And there's more than one, I think. Let's +investigate this. And we'd better not separate."</p> + +<p>Fifty yards to the left we struck a cottonwood<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> grove, and in the outer +edge of it loomed the vague outline of a horse—when we were almost +within reaching-distance of him. I ran my hand over the saddle and knew +it instantly for Bruce Haggin's rig. A half-minute of quiet prowling +revealed our full quota of livestock, even to the pack-horse that bore +our beds and grub, each one tied hard and fast to a tree. Also our +six-shooters reposed in their scabbards, the four belts hooked over the +horn of MacRae's saddle.</p> + +<p>Maybe it didn't feel good to be on the hurricane deck of a good horse +once more! Whenever I have to walk any distance, I can always understand +why a horse-thief yields to temptation and finally becomes confirmed in +his habit. It was rather an odd thing for those outlaws to leave +everything, even to our guns, but I figured—and time proved the +correctness of my arithmetic—that they had bigger fish to fry.</p> + +<p>Once in the saddle, with the comfortable weight of a cartridge-belt +around each man's middle, we experienced a revulsion of feeling. Primed +for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> trouble if we could jump it out of the brush, we rode the bottom +for half an hour. But our men were gone. At least, we could not locate +them. So we took to the upland again and loped toward Pend d' Oreille.</p> + +<p>"I've been thinking it isn't so strange—those old fellows being in this +country—after all," Mac suddenly began, as we slowed our horses down to +take a hill. "I didn't remember at first, but two years ago, just after +I joined the Force, I ran across a bull-whacker on the Whoop Up trail, +and he told me that the Double R had closed out. He said Hank had got +into a ruction with Dick Feltz—you recollect there was considerable +feeling between them in our time down there—and killed him one day at +Fort Worth. Feltz had some folks that took it up, and Hank had to spend +a barrel of money to come clear. That, and a range war that grew out of +the killing, and some kind of a business deal just about broke them. +That's the way this fellow had it; said a trail-boss told him at +Ogalalla that spring. I didn't take much stock in the yarn at the time,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +but I'm beginning to think he had it straight. You didn't hear anything +about it?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word; it's news to me," I said. "When I left that country I kept +moving north all the time. The last three years I've been in the Judith +Basin, and southern outfits haven't begun to come in there yet. So I +haven't had much chance to hear from that part of the world. But I'm +framing up my think-works so I won't be surprised at anything I see or +hear after to-night. How long since you left that country, Mac?"</p> + +<p>"Next spring after you did," he answered. "If they did go broke, I can +<i>sabe</i> their being here. Rutter said, you know, that they'd made a stake +on the Peace—Peace River, I suppose he meant. There's been a lot of +placer mining in that north country the last three or four years. They +might have been up there and struck it good and plenty. They made their +start in the cow business off a placer in California, you know."</p> + +<p>I knew that, for Rowan often spoke of it. And granting that we had +surmised rightly, it required<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> no vivid imagination to picture what +might happen to men crossing those wide prairies with a fortune in +yellow dust. But my imagination was hardly equal to the task of +reconciling the fact that the evil pair had been busy at other deviltry +and yet knew I carried a large sum of money and where it was concealed +about my person. That brought me back to something else Rutter had told +us; something that I knew—or thought I knew—touched MacRae very +closely.</p> + +<p>"Hans said Lyn was at Walsh," I remarked. "I don't think she was there, +this morning. But she might be due to arrive there. Hang it all, Mac, +what the dickens chased you away from the Canadian?"</p> + +<p>"Looking back, I can't just say what it was," he presently replied, in a +hard, matter-of-fact tone. "You see, one's feelings can change, Sarge. +It looks different to me now than it did then. I reckon I could have +written essays on the futility of sentiment, and the damned silliness of +a man who thinks he cares for a woman. But I'm past that stage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> And so +I can't say for sure just how it was or why. Something came up between +me and Lyn—and I drifted, and kept drifting. Went through Colorado, +Wyoming, Montana; finally rambled here, and went into the Force +because—well, because a man with anything to him can go to the top. A +man must play at something, and this looked like a good game."</p> + +<p>There was a note of something that I'd never heard in MacRae's voice +before; neither bitterness nor anger nor sorrow nor lonesomeness, and +yet there was a hint of each, but so slight, so elusive I couldn't grasp +it. I remembered that the last sentence MacRae had spoken to me in the +South was a message to Lyn Rowan, a message that I never had the +pleasure of delivering, for my hasty flitting took me out other trails +than the one that led to the home ranch. And so they had parted—gone +different ways—probably in anger. Well, that's only another example of +the average human's cussedness. Lyn could be just as haughty as she was +sweet and gracious, which was natural enough, seeing she'd<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> ruled a +cattle king and all his sunburned riders since she was big enough to +toddle alone; and Gordon MacRae wasn't the sort of man who would come to +heel at any woman's bidding—at least, he wasn't in the old days. Oh, I +could understand how it happened, all right. Each of them was chuck full +of that dubious sort of pride that has busted up more than one +love-<i>fiesta</i>.</p> + +<p>Neither of us spoke again, and at length the squat log buildings of Pend +d' Oreille loomed ahead of us in the night. Tired and hungry, we stabled +our horses, ate a bite, and rolled into bed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>STONY CROSSING.</h3> + + +<p>"There's Stony Crossing, Sarge; and over yonder, at the west end of that +blue ridge, is Writing-on-the-Stone."</p> + +<p>At the foot of the long slope on which we stood Milk River glinted in +the sunshine, deceptively beautiful—a shining example of the truth of +that old saw about distance lending enchantment, for, looking down on +the placid stream slipping smoothly along between fringes of scrubby +timber, one would never guess that miles and miles of hungry quick-sands +lined the river-edge, an unseen trap for the feet of the unwary.</p> + +<p>Stony Crossing I could see, even without Mac's guiding finger. The Whoop +Up trail, a brown streak against the vivid upland green, dipped down the +hillside to our right, down to the sage-grown flat, and into the river +by the great boulders that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> gave the ford its name. The blue ridge up +the river I gave scant heed to; the Writing-Stone was only a name to me, +for I'd never seen the place. My attention was all for the scene at +hand. The patch of soft green that I knew for the cottonwoods Rutter had +spoken of drew my roving gaze whether I would or no. I have ridden on +pleasanter missions than the one that took us to Stony Crossing that +day.</p> + +<p>"It's sure tough," I voiced a thought that had been running in my mind +all morning, "to think that a good old fellow like Hank Rowan has been +murdered and left to rot on the prairie like a skinned buffalo. Hanged +if I can make myself really believe we'll find him down there."</p> + +<p>"The more I think of it, the more I'm inclined to believe that we will," +MacRae answered evenly. "We'll know beyond a doubt in the next hour. So +we might as well go on."</p> + +<p>If I hadn't known him so well I might have thought he didn't care a damn +what we found at Stony Crossing, that he was as unmoved as the two<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +case-hardened troopers who rode with us. But that repression was just as +natural to him as emotional flare-ups are to some. Whatever he felt he +usually kept bottled up inside, no matter how it hurt. I never saw him +fly to pieces over anything. He was something of an anomaly to me, when +I first knew him. I was always so prone to do and say things according +to impulse that I thought him cold-blooded, a man without any particular +feeling except a certain pride in holding his own among his fellows.</p> + +<p>But I revised my opinion when I came to know him better. Under the +surface he was sensitive as a girl; one could wound him with a word or a +look. Paradoxically, he was absolutely cold-blooded toward a declared +enemy. He would fight fair, but without mercy. Side by side with the +sensitive soul of him, and hidden always under an impassive mask of +self-control, lay the battling spirit, an indomitable fighting streak; +it cropped out in a cool, calculating manner of taking desperate chances +when the sleeping devil in him was roused. He would sidestep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +trouble—and one met the weeping damsel at many turns of the road in +those raw days—if he could do it without loss of self-respect; but the +man who stirred him up needlessly, or crowded him into retaliation, +always regretted it—when he had time to indulge in vain regrets. And +you can bet your last, lone <i>peso</i>, and consider it won, that MacRae +meant every word when he said to old Hans Rutter: "We'll make them sweat +blood for this."</p> + +<p>When we got down into the bottom Mac turned aside to the deep-worn trail +and glanced sharply down at the ruts. The dust in them lay smooth, and +the hoof-marks that showed were old and dim.</p> + +<p>"I wondered if there had been any freight teams pass lately," he +explained. "But there hasn't—not for a day or two, anyway. Let's look +in the timber."</p> + +<p>That was a long time ago, and since then I have seen much of life and +death in many countries, but I can recall as distinctly as if it were +yesterday the grim sight that met us when we rode in among the +whispering cottonwoods. We found Hank Rowan<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> in a little open place, +where rifts of sunlight filtered through the tangled branches; one +yellow bar, full of quivering motes, rested on the wide-open eyes and +mouth, tinting the set features the ghastly color of a plaster cast. The +horse he had ridden lay dead across his legs, and just beyond, a +crumpled heap against the base of a tree, was the carcass of a mule, +half-hidden under a bulky pack. The thing that sickened me, that stirs +me even yet, was a circular, red patch that crowned his head where +should have been thick, iron-gray hair.</p> + +<p>"The damned hounds!" MacRae muttered. "They tried to make it look like +an Indian job."</p> + +<p>The pack-ropes had been cut and the pack searched. In the same manner +they had gone through his pockets and scattered a few papers and letters +on the ground. These we gathered carefully together, against the time of +meeting Lyn, and then—for time pressed, and a dead man, though he may +be your friend and his passing a sorrow, is out of the game forever—we +dragged him from beneath the dead horse, wrapped him in the canvas +pack-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span>cover, and buried him in the soft leaf-mold where he lay, as we +had buried his lifetime partner early in the morning. When we had +finished, MacRae ordered his two troopers back to Pend d' Oreille, and we +mounted our horses and turned their heads toward Fort Walsh.</p> + +<p>It is seventy miles in an air-line from Stony Crossing to the fort. That +night we laid out, sleeping without hardship in a dry buffalo-wallow, +and noon of the next day brought us to Walsh, a huddle of log buildings +clustering around a tall pole from which fluttered the union jack.</p> + +<p>Off to one side of the fort a bunch of work-bulls fed peacefully. Down +in the creek bottom a tent or two flapped in the mid-day breeze, and in +their neighborhood uprose the smoke of half a dozen dinner fires. By the +post storeroom, waiting their turn to unload, was ranged a line of the +tarpaulin-covered wagons, wheeled galleons of the plains, that brought +food and raiment to the Northwest before the coming of steam and steel.</p> + +<p>"That looks to me like Baker's outfit, from Ben<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>ton," I said to MacRae, +as we swung off our horses before the building in which the officer of +the day held forth. "They must have come by way of Assiniboine."</p> + +<p>"Probably," Mac answered. "And over yonder's the paymaster's train. At +least, he's due, and I can't account for a bunch of horses in charge of +a buck trooper any other way."</p> + +<p>We clanked into the ante-room—that's what I call it, anyway. It +happened that I didn't stay around those police posts long enough to get +familiar with the technical terms for everything. Not that they wouldn't +have welcomed my presence; faith, their desire for my company was only +equaled by my reluctance to accept their hospitality. There was a while +when I developed a marvelous capacity for dodging invitations to Fort +Walsh. And if the men in scarlet had been a bit swifter, or I a little +slower, I'd have had ample leisure to observe life in the Force from the +inside—of the guardhouse. As I said, we went into the ante-room, and +there I got my first peep at the divinity that doth hedge<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>—not a king, +but a commissioned officer in Her Majesty's N. W. M. P. An orderly held +us up, and when MacRae had convinced him that our business was urgent, +and not for his ears, he graciously allowed us to enter the +Presence—who proved to be a heavy-set person with sandy, mutton-chop +whiskers set bias on a vacuous, round, florid countenance. His +braid-trimmed uniform was cut to fit him like the skin of an exceedingly +well-stuffed sausage, and from his comfortable seat behind a flat-topped +desk he gazed upon us with the wisdom of a tree-full of owls and the +dignity of a stage emperor.</p> + +<p>MacRae's heels clicked together and his right hand went up in the stiff +military salute. The red-faced one acknowledged it by a barely +perceptible flip of a fat paw, then put a little extra stiffening into +his spinal column and growled, in a voice that seemed to come booming up +from the region of his diaphragm, "Pro-ceed."</p> + +<p>MacRae proceeded. But he didn't get very far. In fact, he'd barely +articulated, 'I have to report, sir, that—— 'when the human sausage +bethought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> himself of something more important, and held up one hand for +silence. He produced a watch and studied it frowningly, then dismissed +us and the recital of our troubles with a ponderous gesture.</p> + +<p>"Repawt again," he rumbled, away down in his chest cavity, "at +hawf—pawst—one."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," MacRae saluted again, and we withdrew.</p> + +<p>"A beautiful specimen; a man of great force," I unburdened myself when +we got outside. "Have you many like him? I'd admire to see him cavorting +around on the pinnacles after horse-thieves or whisky-runners or a bunch +of bad Indians. A peaceable citizen would sure do well on the other side +of the line if sheriffs and marshals took a lay-off to feed themselves +when a man was in the middle of his complaint. How long do you suppose +it will take that fat slob to get a squad of these soldier-policemen on +the trail of that ten thousand?"</p> + +<p>MacRae laughed dryly. "Old Dobson is harmless, all right, so far as +hunting outlaws is concerned. But he doesn't cut much figure around<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +here, one way or the other; no more than two or three other 'haw-haw' +Englishmen who got commissions in the Force on the strength of their +family connections. Lessard—the major in charge—is the brains of the +post. He gets out and does things while these fatheads stay in quarters +and untangle red tape. Personally, I don't like Lessard—he's a damned +autocrat. But he's the man to whip this unorganized country into shape. +I imagine he'll paw up the earth when he hears our story."</p> + +<p>We mounted and rode to the stables. When we'd unsaddled and put up our +horses, Mac led the way toward a row of small, whitewashed cabins set +off by themselves, equidistant from barrack and officers' row.</p> + +<p>"Sometimes I eat with the sergeants' mess," Mac said. "But generally I +camp with 'Bat' Perkins when I drop in here. Bat's an ex-stock-hand like +ourselves, and we'll be as welcome as payday. And he'll know if Lyn +Rowan has come to Walsh."</p> + +<p>I wasn't in shape, financially, to have any choice in the matter of a +stopping-place. Forty or fifty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> dollars of expense money covered the +loose cash in my pockets when I left Walsh for Benton; and, while I may +have neglected to mention the fact, those two coin-collectors didn't +overlook the small change when they held me up for La Pere's roll. There +was a sort of sheebang—you couldn't call it a hotel if you had any +regard for the truth—on the outskirts of Walsh, for the accommodation +of wayfarers without a camp-outfit, but most of the time you couldn't +get anything fit to eat there. So I was mighty glad to hear about Bat +Perkins.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>THIRTY DAYS IN IRONS!</h3> + + +<p>It transpired, however, that before we reached Bat Perkins' cabin Mac +got an unexpected answer to one of the questions he intended to ask. As +we turned the corner of a rambling log house, which, from its +pretentiousness, I judged must house some Mounted Police dignitary, we +came face to face with a tall, keen-featured man in Police uniform, and +a girl. Even though Rutter had declared she would be at Walsh, I wasn't +prepared to believe it was Lyn Rowan. Sometimes five years will work a +wonderful change in a woman; or is it that time and distance work some +subtle transition in one's recollection? She didn't give me much time to +indulge in guesswork, though. While I wondered, for an instant, if there +could by any possibility be another woman on God's footstool with quite +the same tilt to her head, the same heavy coils of tawny hair and +unfathomable eyes that always met your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> own so frankly, she recognized +the pair of us; though MacRae in uniform must have puzzled her for an +instant.</p> + +<p>"Gordon—and Sarge Flood! Where in the world did you come from? +And—and——" She stopped rather suddenly, a bit embarrassed. I knew +just as well as if she had spoken the words, that she had been on the +point of asking him what he was doing in the yellow-striped breeches and +scarlet jacket of a Mounted Policeman. Whatever had parted them, she +hadn't held it against him. There was an indefinable something in the +way she spoke his name and looked at him that told me there was still a +soft spot in her heart for the high-headed beggar by my side.</p> + +<p>But MacRae—while I was wise to the fact that he was the only friend I +had in that country, and the sort of friend that sticks closer than a +brother, I experienced a sincere desire to beat him over the noodle with +my gun and thereby knock a little of the stiffness out of his +neck—simply saluted the officer, tipped his hat to her, and passed on. +I didn't <i>sabe</i> the play, and when I saw the red flash<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span> up into her face +it made me hot, and there followed a few seconds when I took a very +uncharitable view of Mr. Gordon MacRae's distant manner.</p> + +<p>The fellow with her, I noticed, seemed to draw himself up very stiff and +dignified when she stopped and spoke to us; and the look with which he +favored MacRae was a peculiar one. It was simply a vagrant expression, +but as it flitted over his face it lacked nothing in the way of +surprised disapproval; I might go farther and say it was malignant—the +kind of look that makes a man feel like reaching for a weapon. At least, +that's the impression it made on me.</p> + +<p>"I might fire that question back at you, Miss Rowan," I replied. "We're +both a long way from the home range. I was here a day or two ago. How +did you manage to keep out of sight—or have you just got in?"</p> + +<p>"Yesterday, only," she returned. "We—you remember old Mammy Thomas, +don't you?—came over from Benton with the Baker freight outfit. I +expect to meet dad here, in a few days."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + +<p>Her last sentence froze the words that were all ready to slip off the +end of my tongue, and made my grouch against MacRae crystallize into a +feeling akin to anger. Why couldn't the beggar stand his ground and +deliver the ugly tidings himself? That bunch of cottonwoods with the +new-made grave close by the dead horses seemed to rise up between us, +and I became speechless. I hadn't the nerve to stand there and tell her +she'd never see her father again this side of the pearly gates. Not I. +That was a job for somebody who could put his arms around her and kiss +the tears away from her eyes. Unless I read her wrong, there was only +one man who could make it easier for her if he were by, and he was +walking away as if it were none of his concern.</p> + +<p>Something of this must have shown in my face, for she was beginning to +regard me curiously. I gathered my scattered wits and started to make +some attempt at conversation, but the man with the shoulder-straps +forestalled me.</p> + +<p>"Really, we must go, Miss Rowan, or we shall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> be late for luncheon," he +drawled. The insolent tone of him was like having one's face slapped, +and it didn't pass over Lyn's head by any means. I thought to myself +that if he had set out to entrench himself in her good graces, he was +taking the poorest of all methods to accomplish that desirable end.</p> + +<p>"Just a moment, major," she said. "Are you going to be here any length +of time, Sarge?"</p> + +<p>"A day or so," I responded shortly. I didn't feel overly cheerful +with all that bad news simmering in my brain-pan, and in addition +I had conceived a full-grown dislike for the "major" and his +I-am-superior-to-you attitude.</p> + +<p>"Then come and see me this afternoon if you can. I'm staying with Mrs. +Stone. Don't forget, now—I have a thousand things I want to talk about. +Good-bye." And she smiled and turned away with the uniformed snob by her +side.</p> + +<p>MacRae had loitered purposely, and I overtook him in a few rods.</p> + +<p>"Well," I blurted out, as near angry as I ever got at MacRae in all the +years I'd known him,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> "you're a high-headed cuss, confound you! Is it a +part of your new philosophy of life to turn your back on every one that +you ever cared anything for?"</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders tolerantly. "What did you expect of me?"</p> + +<p>"You might have—oh, well, I suppose you'll go your own gait, +regardless," I sputtered. "That's your privilege. But I don't see how +you had the nerve to pass <i>her</i> up that way. Especially since that Stony +Crossing deal."</p> + +<p>Mac took a dozen steps before he answered me.</p> + +<p>"You don't understand the lay of things, Sarge," he said, rather +hesitatingly. "If I have the situation sized up right, Lyn is +practically alone here, and things are going to look pretty black to her +when she learns what has happened. Hank never had anything much to do +with his people. I doubt if Lyn has even a speaking acquaintance with +her nearest kin. She has friends in the South—plenty of them who'd be +more than glad to do as much for her as you or I. But we're a long way +from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> Canadian River, now. And so if she has made friends among the +official set here, it's up to me to stand back—until that <i>cache</i> is +found, anyway."</p> + +<p>"Then you're not going to try and see her, and tell her about this thing +yourself?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"I can't," he replied impatiently. "You'll have to do that, Sarge. Hang +it, can't you see where I stand? The mere fact that Lessard was taking +her about shows that these officers' women have received her with open +arms. They form a clique as exclusive as a quarantined smallpox patient, +and a 'non-com' like myself is barred out, until I win a pair of +shoulder-straps; when my rank would make me socially possible. Meantime, +I'm a sergeant, and if Lyn went to picking friends out of the ranks, I'm +not sure they wouldn't drop her like a hot potato. Sounds rotten, but +that's their style; and you've been through the mill at home enough to +know what it is to be knifed socially. It's different with you; you're +an American citizen, a countryman of hers. You understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," I answered tartly. "But I don't under<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>stand how you can stomach +this sort of existence. What is there in it? Where is the profit or +satisfaction in this kind of thing, for you? Will the man in the ranks +get credit for taming the Northwest when his work is done? Why the devil +don't you quit the job? Cut loose and be a free agent again."</p> + +<p>"It is a temptation, the way things have come up in the last day or +two," he mused. "I'd like to be foot-loose, so I could work it out +without any string attached to me. But there are only two ways I could +get out of the Force, and neither is open. I might desert, which would +be a dirty way to sneak out of a thing I went into deliberately; or, if +they were minded to allow me, I could buy my discharge—and I haven't +the price. Besides, I like the game and I don't know that I want to quit +it. The life isn't so bad. It's your rabidly independent point of view. +A man that can't obey orders is not likely to climb to a position where +he can give them. What the dickens would become of the cow-outfits," he +challenged, "if every stockhand refused to take<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> orders from the foreman +and owners? Do you stand on your dignity when La Pere tells you to do +certain things in a certain way?"</p> + +<p>I shrugged my shoulders. There was just enough truth in his words to +make them hard to confute, and, anyway, I was not in the mood for that +sort of argument. But I was very sure that I would rather be a +forty-dollar-a-month cowpuncher than a sergeant in the Mounted Police.</p> + +<p>"That fellow with her is the big gun here, is he?" I reverted to Lyn and +her affairs.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Mac answered shortly, "that was Lessard."</p> + +<p>By this time we had come to the last cabin in the row. A whitewashed +fence enclosed a diminutive yard, and as we turned in the gate Bat +Perkins appeared in the doorway, both hands thrust deep in his trousers +pockets and a pipe sagging down one corner of his wide mouth. He was +rudely jovial in his greeting, as most of his type were. His wit was +labored, but his welcome was none the less genuine.</p> + +<p>"I seen yuh ride in, Mac," he grinned, "an' I told<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> the old woman t' +turn herself loose on the beefsteak an' spuds, for here comes that +hungry-lookin' jasper from Pend d' Oreille."</p> + +<p>I was duly made acquainted with Bat, and later with his wife, who, if +she did have a trace of Indian blood in her, could certainly qualify as +the patron saint of hungry men. Good cooks were a scarce article on the +frontier then. Bat, I learned, was attached to the Force in a civilian +capacity.</p> + +<p>We ate, smoked a cigarette apiece, and then it was time for us to +"repawt." So we betook ourselves to the seat of the mighty, to unload +our troubles on the men who directed the destinies of the turbulent +Northwest and see what they could do toward alleviating them.</p> + +<p>This time the orderly passed us in without delay, and once more we faced +the man of rank, who, after taking our measure with a deliberate stare, +ordered MacRae to state his business.</p> + +<p>As Mac related the unvarnished tale of the banked fire in the canyon, +the hold-up, and the double murder, a slight sound caused me to turn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> my +head, and I saw in a doorway that led to another room the erect figure +of Major Lessard listening intently, a black frown on his eagle face. +When MacRae had finished his story and the incapable blockhead behind +the desk sat there regarding the two of us as though he considered that +we had been the victims of a rank hallucination, Lessard slammed the +door shut behind him and strode into the room.</p> + +<p>"I'll take charge of this, Captain Dobson," he brusquely informed the +red-faced numskull.</p> + +<p>Taking his stand at the end of the desk, he made MacRae reiterate in +detail the grim happenings of that night. That over, he quizzed me for a +few minutes. Then he turned loose on MacRae with a battery of questions. +Could he give a description of the men? Would he be able to identify +them? Why did he not exercise more precaution when investigating +anything so suspicious as a concealed fire? Why this, why that? Why +didn't he send a trooper to report at once instead of wasting time in +going to Stony Crossing? And a dozen more.</p> + +<p>With every word his thin-lipped mouth drew into<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> harder lines, and the +cold, domineering tone, weighted heavy with sneering emphasis, grated on +me till I wanted to reach over and slap his handsome, smooth-shaven +face. But MacRae stood at "attention" and took his medicine dumbly. He +had to. He was in the presence, and answering the catechism, of a +superior officer, and his superior officer by virtue of a commission +from the Canadian government could insult his manhood and lash him +unmercifully with a viperish tongue, and if he dared to resent it by +word or deed there was the guardhouse and the shame of irons—for +discipline must be maintained at any cost! I thanked the star of destiny +then and there that no Mounted Police officer had a string attached to +me, by which he could force me to speak or be silent at his will. It was +a dirty piece of business on Lessard's part. Even Dobson eyed him +wonderingly.</p> + +<p>"Why, damn it!" Lessard finally burst out, "you've handled this like a +green one, fresh from over the water. You are held up; this man is +robbed of ten thousand dollars; another man is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> murdered under your very +nose—and then you waste thirty-six hours blundering around the country +to satisfy your infernal curiosity. It's incredible, in a man of your +frontier experience, under any hypothesis except that you stood in with +the outlaws and held back to assure their escape!"</p> + +<p>At first MacRae had looked puzzled, at a loss. Then under the lash of +Lessard's bitter tongue the dull red stole up into his weather-browned +cheeks, glowed there an instant and receded, leaving his face white +under the tan. His left hand was at its old, familiar trick—fingers +shut tight over the thumb till the cords stood tense between the +knuckles and wrist—a never-failing sign that internally he was close to +the boiling-point, no matter how calm he appeared on the surface. And +when Lessard flung out that last unthinkable accusation, the explosion +came.</p> + +<p>"You lie, you——!" MacRae spoke in a cold impersonal tone, and only the +flat strained note betrayed his feeling; but the term applied to Lessard +was one to make a man's ears burn; it was the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> range-riders' gauntlet +thrown squarely in an enemy's face. "You lie when you say that, and you +know you lie. I don't know your object, but I call your bluff—you—you +blasted insect!"</p> + +<p>Lessard, if he had been blind till then, saw what was patent to me—that +he had gone a bit too far, that the man he had baited so savagely was +primed to kill him if he made a crooked move. MacRae leaned forward, his +gray eyes twin coals, the thumb of his right hand hooked suggestively in +the cartridge-belt, close by the protruding handle of his six-shooter. +They were a well-matched pair; iron-nerved, both of them, the sort of +men to face sudden death open-eyed and unafraid.</p> + +<p>A full minute they glared at each other across the desk corner. Then +Lessard, without moving a muscle or altering his steady gaze, spoke to +Dobson.</p> + +<p>"Call the orderly," he said quietly.</p> + +<p>Dobson, mouth agape, struck a little bell on the desk and the orderly +stepped in from the outer room.</p> + +<p>"Orderly, disarm Sergeant MacRae."</p> + +<p>Lessard uttered the command evenly, without a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> jarring note, his tone +almost a duplicate of MacRae's. He was a good judge of men, that +eagle-faced major; he knew that the slightest move with hostile intent +would mean a smoking gun. MacRae would have shot him dead in his tracks +if he'd tried to reach a weapon. But a man who is really game—which no +one who knew him could deny MacRae—won't, <i>can't</i> shoot down another +unless that other shows <i>fight</i>; and a knowledge of that gun-fighters' +trait saved Major Lessard's hide from being thoroughly punctured that +day.</p> + +<p>The orderly, a rather shaky orderly if the truth be told (I think he +must have listened through the keyhole!) stepped up to Mac.</p> + +<p>"Give me your side-arms, sergeant," he said, nervously.</p> + +<p>MacRae looked from one to the other, and for a breath I was as nervous +as the trooper. It was touch and go, just then, and if he'd gone the +wrong way it's altogether likely that I'd have felt called upon to back +his play, and there would have been a horrible mix-up in that two by +four room. But he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> didn't. Just smiled, a sardonic sort of grimace, and +unbuckled his belt and handed it over without a word. He'd begun to +cool.</p> + +<p>"Reduced to the ranks—thirty days in irons—solitary confinement!" +Lessard snapped the words out with a wolfish satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"Keep a close mouth, Sarge," MacRae spoke in Spanish with his eyes bent +on the floor, "and don't quit the country till I get out." Then he +turned at the orderly's command and marched out of the room.</p> + +<p>When I again turned to Lessard he still stood at the end of the desk, +industriously paring his fingernails. An amused smile wrinkled the +corners of his mouth.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>LYN.</h3> + + +<p>Whereas Lessard had acted the martinet with MacRae, he took another tack +and became the very essence of affability toward me. (I'd have enjoyed +punching his proud head, for all that; it was a dirty way to serve a man +who had done his level best.)</p> + +<p>"Rather unfortunate happening for you, Flood," he began. "I think, +however, that we shall eventually get your money back."</p> + +<p>"I hope so," I replied coolly. "But I must say that it begins to look +like a big undertaking."</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; it is," he observed. "Still, we have a pretty thorough +system of keeping track of things like that. This is a big country, but +you can count on the fingers of one hand the places where a man can +spend money. Of course, you probably realize the difficulty of laying +hands on men who know they are wanted, and act accordingly. We can't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +arrest on a description, because you wouldn't know the men if you saw +them. Our only chance is to be on the lookout for free spenders. It's a +certainty that they will be captured if they spend that money at any +trading-post within our jurisdiction. I'll find out if the quartermaster +knows the numbers and denomination of the bills. On the other hand, if +they go south, cross the line, you know, we won't get much of a show at +them. But we'll have to take chances on that."</p> + +<p>"I've done all I can do in that direction," I said. "I've sent word to +La Pere."</p> + +<p>"You had better stay hereabout for a while," he decided. "You can put up +at one of the troop-messes for a few days. I'll send a despatch to Whoop +Up and MacLeod, and we'll see what turns up. Also I think I shall send a +detail to bring in those bodies. The identification must be made +complete. No doubt it will be a trial for Miss Rowan, but I think she +would feel better to have her father buried here. By the way, you knew +the Rowans in the States, I believe."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Was trail-boss three seasons for Hank Rowan and his partner," I +returned briefly. I didn't much like his offhand way of asking; not that +it wasn't a perfectly legitimate query. But I couldn't get rid of the +notion that he would hand me out the same dose he had given MacRae if +only he had the power.</p> + +<p>"Ah," he remarked. "Then perhaps you would like to go out and help bring +in those bodies. It will save taking the Pend d' Oreille riders from +their regular patrol, and we are having considerable trouble with +whisky-runners these days."</p> + +<p>I agreed to go, and that terminated the conversation. I didn't mind +going; in fact some sort of action appealed to me just then. I had no +idea of going back to Benton right away, and sitting around Fort Walsh +waiting for something to turn up was not my taste. It never struck me +till I was outside the office that Lessard had passed up the gold +episode altogether; he hadn't said whether he would send any one to +prognosticate around Writing-Stone or not. I wondered if he took any +stock in Rutter's story, or thought it merely one of the queer turns<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> a +man's brain will sometimes take when he is dying. It had sounded +off-color to me, at first; but I knew old Hans pretty well, and he +always seemed to me a hard-headed, matter of fact sort of man, not at +all the flighty kind of pilgrim that gets mixed in his mental processes +when things go wrong. Besides, if there wasn't some powerful incentive, +why that double killing, to say nothing of the incredible devilishness +that accompanied it.</p> + +<p>Once out of the official atmosphere, I hesitated over my next move. +Lessard's high-handed squelching of MacRae had thrown everything out of +focus. We'd planned to report at headquarters, see Lyn, if she were at +Walsh, and then with Pend d' Oreille as a base of operations go on a +still hunt for whatever the Writing-Stone might conceal. That scheme was +knocked galley-west and crooked, for even when MacRae's term expired +he'd get a long period of duty at the Fort; he'd lost his rank, and as a +private his coming and going would be according to barrack-rule instead +of the freedom allowed a sergeant in charge of an outpost like Pend +d'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> Oreille—I knew that much of the Mounted Police style of doing +business. And so far as my tackling single-handed a search for Hank +Rowan's <i>cache</i>—well, I decided to see Lyn before I took that +contract.</p> + +<p>I hated that, too. It always went against my grain to be a bearer of ill +tidings. I hate to make a woman cry, especially one I like. Some one had +to tell her, though, and, much as I disliked the mission, I felt that I +ought not to hang back and let some stranger blurt it out. So I nailed +the first trooper I saw, and had him show me the domicile of Mrs. +Stone—who, I learned, was the wife of Lessard's favorite captain—and +thither I rambled, wishing mightily for a good stiff jolt out of the keg +that Piegan Smith and Mac had clashed over. But if there was any bottled +nerve-restorer around Fort Walsh it was tucked away in the officers' +cellars, and not for the benefit of the common herd; so I had to fall +back on a cigarette.</p> + +<p>Lyn was sitting out in front when I reached the place. Another female +person, whom I put down<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> as Madam Stone, arose and disappeared through +an open door at my approach. Lyn motioned me to a camp-stool close by. I +sat down, and immediately my tongue became petrified. My think-machinery +was running at a dizzy speed, but words—if silence is truly golden, I +was the richest man in Fort Walsh that afternoon, for a few minutes, at +least. And when my vocal organs did at last consent to fulfil their +natural office, they refused to deliver anything but empty commonplaces, +the kind one's tongue carries in stock for occasional moments of barren +speech. These oral inanities only served to make Lyn give me the benefit +of a look of amused wonder.</p> + +<p>"Dear me," she laughed at last. "I wonder what weighty matter is +crushing you to the earth. If you've got anything on your conscience, +Sarge, for goodness' sake confess. I'll give you absolution, if you +like, and then perhaps you'll be a little more cheerful."</p> + +<p>"No, there's nothing particular weighing me down," I lied flatly. +"Anyway, I don't aim to unload my personal troubles on you. I came over +here<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> to acquire a little information. How came you away up here by your +lonesome, and what brought your father and old Hans——"</p> + +<p>Her purple-shaded eyes widened, each one a question-mark.</p> + +<p>"Who told you that Hans was up North? I know I didn't mention him," she +cut in quickly. "Have you seen them?"</p> + +<p>It's a wonder my face didn't betray the fact that I was holding +something back. I know I must have looked guilty for a second. That was +a question I would gladly have passed up, but her eyes demanded an +answer.</p> + +<p>"Well," I protested, "it occurred to me that if you expected to meet +your father here in a day or two, Rutter would naturally be with him, +seeing that they've paddled in the same canoe since a good many years +before you were born, my lady. What jarred you all loose from Texas? And +what the mischief did you do to MacRae that he quit the South next +spring after I did, and straightway went to soldiering in this +country?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p> + +<p>She shied away from that query, just as I expected. "We had oceans of +trouble after you left there, Sarge," she told me, turning her head from +me so that her gaze wandered over the barrack-square. "It really doesn't +make pleasant telling, but you'll understand better than some one that +didn't know the country. You remember Dick Feltz, and that old trouble +about the Conway brand that dad bought a long time back?"</p> + +<p>I nodded; I remembered Mr. Feltz very well indeed, for the well-merited +killing of one of his hired assassins was the main cause of my hasty +departure from Texas.</p> + +<p>"Well, it came to a head, one day, in Fort Worth. They shot each other +up terribly, and a week or so later Feltz died. His people in the East +got it into their heads that it was a case of murder. They stirred up +the county authorities till every one was taking sides. Of course, dad +was cleared; but that seemed to be the beginning of a steady run of bad +luck. The trial cost an awful lot of money, and made enemies, too. Feltz +had plenty of friends of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> his own calibre—you know that to your sorrow, +don't you, Sarge?—and they started trouble on the range. It was simply +terrible for a while. Dad can supply the details when he comes." ("when +he comes"—I tell you, that jarred me.) "Finally things got to such a +pass that dad had to quit. And what with a deal in some Mexican cattle +that didn't turn out well, and some other business troubles that I never +quite understood, we were just about finished when we closed out."</p> + +<p>She let her eyes meet mine for an instant, and they were smiling, making +light of it all. Most women, I thought, would have had a good cry, or at +least pulled a long face, over a hard-luck story like that. But she was +really more of a woman than I had thought her, and I thanked the Lord +she was game when I remembered what I had to tell her before I was +through.</p> + +<p>"Dad and Hans Rutter, as you know, weren't the sort of men to sit around +and mourn over anything like that," she laughed. "I don't know where +they got the idea of going to Peace River. But dad<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> settled me and Mammy +Thomas in a little cottage in Austin, and they started. I wanted to go +along, but dad wouldn't hear of it. They've been gone a little over two +years. I'd get word from them about every three months, and early this +spring dad wrote that they had made a good stake and were coming home. +He said I could come as far as Benton to meet them, and we would take +the boat from there down to St. Louis. So I looked up the lay of the +country, and sent him word I would come as far as Walsh. He had said +they would come out by way of this place. And then I rounded up Mammy +Thomas and struck out. I've rather enjoyed the trip, too. They should be +here any day, now."</p> + +<p>My conscience importuned me to tell her bluntly that they would only +come into Walsh feet first. But I dodged the unpleasant opening. There +was another matter I wanted to touch upon first.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Lyn," I said—rather dubiously, it must be confessed, for I +didn't know how she would take it, "I'm going to tell you something on +my own responsibility, and you mustn't get the idea that I'm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> trying to +mix into your personal affairs without a warrant. But I have a hunch +that you're laboring under a mistaken impression, right now; that is, if +you care anything about an old friend like MacRae."</p> + +<p>"I can't really say that I do, though," she assured me quickly, but she +colored in a way that convinced me that her feeling toward MacRae was of +the sort she would never admit to any one but himself.</p> + +<p>"Well," I continued, "I imagined you would think it queer that he should +pass you up as he did a while ago. But here at Fort Walsh we're among a +class of people that are a heap different from Texas cow-punchers. These +redcoats move along social lines that don't look like much to a cowman; +but once in the Force you must abide by them. It was consideration for +you that forbade MacRae to stop. Any woman in the company of an officer +is taboo to an enlisted man, according——"</p> + +<p>"I know all that," she interrupted impatiently. "Probably they'd cut me, +and all that sort of thing. I understand their point of view, exactly, +but I'm<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> not here to play the social game, and I shall talk to whom it +pleases me. Do you or Gordon MacRae honestly believe I care a snap for +their petty conventions?"</p> + +<p>"No, I know you better than that," I responded. "All the same, this is a +pretty rough country for a woman, and if you've made friends among the +people on top, they may come in handy. For that matter," I concluded, +"you won't get a chance to have the cold shoulder turned to you for +associating with MacRae; not for some time, anyway."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" she demanded, in that answer-me-at-once way I knew +of old.</p> + +<p>"MacRae has gotten into a bad hole," I told her plainly. "Major Lessard, +who happens to be the big chief in this neck of the woods, seems to have +developed a sudden grouch against him. There was a hold-up night before +last—in fact, I was the victim. I was separated from a big bunch of +money that belongs to the outfit I'm working for. Mac was with me at the +time. He had to come in here and report it, for it happened in his +district, and the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> major raked him over the coals in a way that was hard +to stand. You know MacRae, Lyn; it's mighty poor business for any man to +tread on his toes, much less go walking rough-shod all over him. Lessard +went the length of accusing him of being in with these hold-up men, +because he did a little investigating on his own account before coming +in to report. Mac took that pretty hard, and came mighty near making the +major eat his words with gunpowder sauce on the side. So, for having the +nerve to declare himself, he has lost his sergeant's stripes and has +likewise gone to the guardhouse to meditate over the foolishness of +taking issue with his superiors. If you don't see him for the next +thirty days, you'll have the consolation of knowing that he isn't +avoiding you purposely."</p> + +<p>It was a rather flippant way to talk, but it was the best I could do +under the circumstances. The last three days hadn't been exactly +favorable to a normal state of mind, or well-considered speech.</p> + +<p>But—who was the wise mortal that said: "No man knoweth the mind of a +maid"?—she sat there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> quite unmoved, her hands resting quietly in her +lap. "We all seem to be more or less under a cloud, Sarge," she said +slowly. "Maybe when dad comes he can furnish a silver lining for it. I +sometimes—what makes you look that way? You look as if you were +thinking it my fault that Gordon is in trouble."</p> + +<p>"You're wrong there," I protested, truthfully enough.</p> + +<p>"But you have that air," she declared. "And I'm not to blame. If he +hadn't been so—so—I'm sure he'd get out of the Mounted Police fast +enough if he didn't like it. I can't imagine him doing anything against +his will. I never knew him"—with a faint smile—"to stay anywhere or do +anything that didn't suit him." She took to staring out across the +grounds again, and one hand drew up slowly till it was doubled into a +tight-shut little fist.</p> + +<p>"Well, he's in that very fix right now. And he's likely to continue so, +unless some one buys his release from the service and makes him a +present of it. You might play the good angel," I suggested, half<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> in +earnest. "It only costs about five hundred dollars"—Mac had told me +that—"and I'm sure he'd be properly grateful."</p> + +<p>The red flag waved in her cheeks again. "I don't particularly like the +idea," she said, rather crossly, still keeping her face turned away from +me, "and I'm very sure he wouldn't care to have me. But dad thinks a lot +of him; he might do something of the kind when he gets here. Dear, I +wish they'd hurry along."</p> + +<p>She had me at the end of my rope at last, and I felt like breaking away +right there; any one not utterly calloused would, I think, have felt the +same squeamishness with that sort of a tale crowding close. If she had +been expecting bad news of any kind it wouldn't have been so hard to go +on; but I couldn't beat about the bush any longer, so I made the plunge +with what grace I could.</p> + +<p>"Lyn, I've got something to tell you about your father and old Hans, and +I'm afraid it's going to hurt," I prefaced gently, and went on before +she could interrupt. "The fellows who held MacRae<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> and me up had someway +got wind of the gold they were packing out. They tried to get it. So far +as I know, they haven't succeeded yet. Rutter tried to tell us where it +was <i>cached</i>. There was a fight over it, you see, and he was shot. Mac +and I came across him—but not soon enough." I stopped and got out +cigarette material in an absent sort of way. My lips, I remember, were +almighty dry just then.</p> + +<p>"And dad?" Lyn was looking at me intently, and her voice was steady; +that squeezed kind of steadiness that is almost worse than tears.</p> + +<p>"He wasn't with Rutter." I drew a long breath and hurried on, slurring +over the worst of it. "They had got separated. Hans was about done when +we found him—he died in a few minutes—but he told us where to go. Then +we went to look for your father. We found him; too late to do any good. +We buried him—both of them—and came on here."</p> + +<p>I felt like a beast, as if I had struck her with my fist, but at any +rate, it was all told; all that she need ever know. I sat still and +watched her, wondering nervously what she would do.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was a strain to sit there silent, for Lyn neither did or said +anything at first. Perhaps she cried afterward, when she got by herself, +but not then; just looked at me, through me, almost, her face white and +drawn into pained lines, and those purple-blue eyes perfectly black. I +got up at last, and put one hand on her shoulder.</p> + +<p>"It's hell, little girl, I know." I said this hardly realizing that I +swore. "We can't bring the old man back to life, but we can surely run +down the cold-blooded devils that killed him. I have a crow to pick with +them myself; but that doesn't matter; I'd be in the game anyway. We'll +get them somehow, when Mac gets out and can play his hand again. It was +finding your father and giving him decent burial that kept us out so +long. I don't understand, yet, why Lessard should pitch into MacRae so +hard for doing that much. You know Mac, Lyn, and you know me—we'll do +what we can."</p> + +<p>She didn't move for a minute, and the shocked, stricken look in her eyes +grew more intense. Then she dropped her head in the palms of her hands +with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> a little sobbing cry. "Sarge, I—I wish you'd go, now," she +whispered. "I want to—to be all by myself, for a while. I'll be all +right by and by."</p> + +<p>I stood irresolute for a second. It may have been my fancy, but I seemed +to hear her whisper, "Oh, Gordon, Gordon!" Then I hesitated no longer, +but turned away and left her alone with her grief; it was not for me to +comfort her. And when I had walked a hundred yards or more, I looked +back. She was still sitting as I had left her, head bowed on her hands, +and the afternoon sun playing hide-and-seek in the heavy coils of her +tawny-gold hair.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>AN IDLE AFTERNOON.</h3> + + +<p>For the next hour or two I poked aimlessly around the post buildings, +chafing at the forced inaction and wondering what I would better do +after I'd gone with the squad of redcoats to those graves and helped +bring the bodies in. Even if I had a pack-horse and a grub-stake, it +would be on a par with chasing a rainbow for me to start on a lone hunt +for Hank Rowan's <i>cache</i>. I didn't know the Writing-Stone country, and a +man had no business wandering up and down those somber ridges alone, +away from the big freight-trails, unless he was anxious to be among the +"reported missing"—which he sure would be if a bunch of non-treaty +Indians ever got within gunshot of him. I damned Major Lessard earnestly +for what I considered his injustice to MacRae, and wondered if he would +send his troopers out to look for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> that hypothetical gold-dust. I didn't +see how he could avoid making a bluff at doing so, even if he secretly +classed Rutter's story as a fairy-tale, and I promised myself to find +out what he was going to do before I started in the morning.</p> + +<p>While I was sitting with my back against the shaded wall of troop G's +barrack, turning this over in my mind, a Policeman with the insignia of +a sergeant on his sleeve came sauntering leisurely by. He took me in +with an appraising glance, and stopped.</p> + +<p>"How d'ye do," he greeted, with a friendly nod. "You're the man that +came in with MacRae, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>I laconically admitted that I was.</p> + +<p>"The k. o. has detailed me to bring in the bodies of the two men who +were killed," he informed me. "He said that you were going along, and so +I thought I'd hunt you up and tell you that we'll start about seven in +the morning."</p> + +<p>"I'll be ready," I assured him.</p> + +<p>"Come on over to the bull-pen," he invited cor<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>dially. "Sorry we haven't +a canteen in connection, but it's more comfortable over there. Good +place to lop about, y' know; a decent place to sit, and a few books and +cards and that sort of thing. Come along."</p> + +<p>I rather liked the man's style, and as he seemed to be really anxious to +make things pleasant for me, I shuffled off the pessimistic mood I was +drifting into, and fell in with his proposal. The "bull-pen" proved to +be a combination reading and lounging-room for the troopers not on duty. +My self-appointed host, whose name was Goodell, waved me to a chair, and +took one opposite. With his feet cocked up on a window-sill, and a +cigarette going, he leaned back in his chair, and our conversation +slackened so that I had a chance to observe my surroundings. It was a +big place, probably fifty feet by a hundred, and quite a number of +redcoats were sprinkled about, some reading, some writing letters, and +two or three groups playing cards. None of them paid any attention to +me, beyond an occasional disinterested glance, until my roving eyes +reached<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> a point directly behind me. Then I became aware that one of a +bunch of four poker-players a few feet distant was regarding me with an +expression that puzzled me. I had turned my head rather quickly and +caught him staring straight at me. It was an odd look, sort of amused, +and speculative; at least, that was the way I read it. Twice in the next +ten minutes I glanced around quickly and caught him sizing me up, as it +were; and then I hitched my chair sidewise, and deliberately began +studying the gentleman to see if I could discover the source of his +interest in me.</p> + +<p>I failed in that, but I stopped his confounded quizzical stare. He +wasn't the style of man that I'd care to stir up trouble with, judging +from his size and the shape of his head. He was about my height, but +half as broad again across the shoulders, and his thick, heavy-boned +wrists showed hairy as an ape's when he stretched his arms to deal the +cards. Aside from his physical proportions, there was nothing about the +man to set him apart from his fellows. Half a dozen men in that room had +the same shade<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> of hair and mustache, and the same ordinary blue eyes. I +turned back to the window again, thinking that I was getting nervous as +an old maid, to let a curious look from a stranger stir me like that.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes the trooper opposite my friend of the poker-game drew +out, and one of the players called loudly on Goodell to take his place. +Goodell lighted another cigarette and nonchalantly seated himself in the +vacant chair. Then I observed for the first time that the game was for +blood rather than pastime, for Goodell paid for his little pile of white +beans in good, gold coin of the realm. Next to playing a little "draw" +myself, I like to watch the game, and so I moved over where I could see +the bets made and the hands exhibited. And there I stuck till "stables" +sounded, watching the affable sergeant outgeneral his opponents, and +noting with some amusement the sulky look that grew more intensified on +the heavy face of Hicks (as they called the man who had favored me with +that peculiar stare) when Goodell finessed him out of two or three +generous-sized pots.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> + +<p>On my way to attend to my horse, Bat Perkins overtook me.</p> + +<p>"Say, old-timer, is it right about Mac losing his stripes and getting +thirty days in the cooler?" he asked in lowered tone.</p> + +<p>"It sure is," I answered emphatically.</p> + +<p>"What in thunder for?" he inquired resentfully. And because I was aching +to express my candid opinion of Major Lessard and all his works to some +one who would understand my point of view, I told Bat all about +it—omitting any mention of the gold-dust. Only four men, Dobson the +fathead, Lessard, MacRae and myself, knew what little was known of that, +and I felt that I had no license to spread the knowledge further.</p> + +<p>"Oh, they sure do hand it to a man if he makes the least break," Bat +sympathized. "Mac's one uh the best men they've got in the Force, an' +they know it, too. Darned if that don't sound queer t' me; what else +could he do? But Lessard's a overbearin' son-of-a-gun all round, and +he's always breakin' out in a new place. Say, you might as well come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +over an' stay with me while you're round here. I don't reckon you'll +enjoy herdin' with these rough-necks."</p> + +<p>Bat's offer was not one to be overlooked by a man in my circumstances, +so after supper found me sitting in his kitchen making gloomy forecasts +of the future, between cigarettes. Shortly before the moon-faced clock +nailed on the wall struck the hour of nine with a great internal +whirring, some one tapped lightly on the door. Bat himself answered the +knock. His body shut off sight of whoever stood outside. I could just +catch the murmur of a subdued voice. After a few seconds of listening +Bat nodded vigorously, and closed the door. He came back to his chair +grinning pleasantly, and handed me a little package. I tore it open and +found, wrapped tightly about three twenty-dollar gold pieces, an +unsigned note from MacRae. It ran:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"Get after Lessard and see if he won't send an escort with you to +Writing-Stone. If he does, and you find anything, I needn't warn +you to be careful. I don't think he believed our yarn, at all. If +he refuses to act, stay here till I get out.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> This money will hold +you for a while. It's all I could rustle. If you need more, maybe +Bat can stake you—he will if he can."</p></div> + +<p>That was all. Not a word about Lyn. The stiff-necked devil!</p> + +<p>"You know what this is, don't you?" I said to Bat. "How the dickens did +he manage it?"</p> + +<p>Bat's grin became even more expansive. "There ain't a buck trooper on +the job," he replied, "that wouldn't help Mac if he got half a show; +he's a white man. It's easy for a prisoner t' slip a note to a friend +that happens t' be mountin' guard. He sent it t' me because I'd be apt +t' know where yuh was. <i>Sabe?</i>"</p> + +<p>I did. Mac's suggestion was right in line with my own idea. Lessard +could scarcely refuse to do that much, I thought; and it would be rather +unhealthy for those prairie pirates to match themselves against a bunch +of Mounted Policemen who were on their guard—provided we found anything +that was worth fighting over.</p> + +<p>A little later Bat spread a bed for me on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> kitchen floor, and I +turned in. But my sleep resolved itself into a series of cat-naps. When +the first sunbeam gleamed through the window of Bat's tiny kitchen, I +arose, pulled on my boots and went to feed my horse. And when we had +eaten breakfast I headed straight for Lessard's private quarters. I +expected he would object to talking business out of business hours, but +I didn't care; I wanted to know what he was going to do, before I +started on that three-day trip. Fortunately Lessard was an early bird, +like myself. I met him striding toward the building that seemed to be a +clearing house for the official contingent.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, major," I said, mustering up a semblance of heartiness +that was far from being the genuine article—I didn't like the man and +it galled me to ask anything of him. "I want to ask you something before +I leave. Have you talked this affair over with Miss Rowan?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Why?" He was maddeningly curt, but I pocketed my feelings and +persisted.</p> + +<p>"Then you must know beyond a doubt that there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> was some truth in +Rutter's story," I declared. "Hank Rowan was my friend. I'd go out of my +way any time to help his daughter. Will you send four or five of your +men with me to the Writing-Stone to look for that stuff?" I asked him +point-blank.</p> + +<p>He looked me up and down curiously, and did not answer for a minute. +"How do you know where to look?" he suddenly demanded. "Writing-Stone +ridge is ten miles long. What chance would you have of finding anything +in a territory of that extent?" His cold eyes rested on me in a +disagreeable way. "I thought Rutter died before giving you the exact +location."</p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, MacRae, in detailing the lurid happenings of that +night, did not repeat the words Rutter had gasped out with his last +breath. He simply said that Hans died after telling us that they had +been attacked, and that the gold was hidden at Writing-Stone. And +Lessard, as I said before, had passed up the gold episode at the time; +all his concern seemed to be for the robbers' appre<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>hension, which was +natural enough since a crime had undoubtedly been committed and he bore +the responsibility of catching and punishing the perpetrators. The +restoration of stolen goods was probably dwarfed in his mind by the +importance of capturing the stealers.</p> + +<p>I was vastly interested in that phase of it, too, for I realized that a +speedy gathering in of those men of the mask was my only chance to lay +hold of La Pere's ten thousand; and I had a theory that they were hardly +the sort to be content with that sum, and that Hank Rowan's <i>cached</i> +gold would be an excellent bait for them, if it could be uncovered. +Those steadily reiterated phrases, "raw gold—on the rock" might have +some understandable meaning if one were on the spot, but MacRae had kept +that to himself—and I wasn't running a bureau of information for +Lessard's benefit. The Canadian government might trust him, but I +wouldn't—not if he took oath on a stack of Bibles, and gave a cast-iron +bond to play fair. I couldn't give any sound reason for feeling that +way, beyond the shabby<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> treatment he'd given MacRae. But somehow the +man's personality grated on me. Lessard was of the type, rare enough, +that can't be overlooked if one comes in contact with it; a big, +dominant, magnetic brute type that rouses either admiration or +resentment in other ordinary mortals; the kind of a man that women +become fascinated with, and other men invariably hate—and sometimes +fear. I didn't stop to analyze my feeling toward him, just then; but I +had the impulse to keep what little I knew to myself, and I obeyed the +promptings of the sixth sense.</p> + +<p>"He did," I answered. "But we can take a chance. Send men that know the +country. Lyn Rowan's kinfolk are few and far between, now; that gold +means a good deal to her, in her present circumstances."</p> + +<p>"H—m-m." He mused a few seconds. Then: "If I think there's any +possibility of finding it—well, I'll see what can be done, after those +bodies are brought in. You, I suppose, are ready to start?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>I nodded.</p> + +<p>"Sergeant Goodell is in charge of the detail. You'll probably find him +about to go. That's all."</p> + +<p>It was like being dismissed from parade; a right-about-face, march! +command straight from the shoulder. Again I was overwhelmed with +thankfulness that the N. W. M. P. had no string on me; I never took +orders from anybody in that tone of voice, and I wanted to shake a +defiant fist under the autocratic major's nose and tell him so. I had +sense enough to see that the time and place was unpropitious for +starting an argument of that sort, so I kept an unperturbed front and +went about my business.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>THE VANISHING ACT, AND THE FRUITS THEREOF.</h3> + + +<p>Being aware that it was near the time Goodell had named for starting, I +returned to the stables, and, getting my horse, rode to the commissary. +There I found Goodell engineering the final preparations. Four men, +besides myself, made up the party: the sergeant, Hicks the +hairy-wristed, another private, and a half-breed scout. They were +lashing an allowance of food and blankets on a pack-horse, and two other +horses with bare <i>aparejos</i> on their backs were tied to the horn of the +breed's saddle—for what purpose I could easily guess.</p> + +<p>While I sat on my <i>caballo</i> waiting for them to tie the last hitch a +rattle of wheels and the thud of hoofs drew near, and presently a blue +wagon, drawn by four big mules and flanked by half a dozen Mounted +Policemen, passed by the commissary building. The little cavalcade +struck a swinging<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> trot as it cleared the barracks, swung down into the +bed of Battle Creek, up the farther bank, and away to the west. And a +little later we, too, left the post, following in the dusty wake of the +paymaster's wagon and its mounted escort.</p> + +<p>For ten or twelve miles we kept to the MacLeod trail at an easy pace, +never more than a mile behind the "transient treasury," as Goodell +facetiously termed it. He was a pretty bright sort, that same Goodell, +quick-witted, nimble of tongue above the average Englishman. I don't +know that he was English; for that matter, none of the three carried the +stamp of his nationality on his face or in his speech. They were men of +white blood, but they might have been English, Irish, Scotch or Dutch +for all I could tell to the contrary. But each of them was broke to the +frontier; that showed in the way they sat their horses, the way they +bore themselves toward one another when clear of the post and its +atmosphere of rigidly enforced discipline. The breed I didn't take much +notice of at the time, except that when he spoke, which was seldom, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +was given to using better language than lots of white men I have known.</p> + +<p>At a point where the trail seemed to bear north a few degrees, Goodell +angled away from the beaten track and headed straight across country for +Pend d' Oreille. At noon we camped, and cooked a bite of dinner while +the horses grazed; ate it, and went on again.</p> + +<p>About three o'clock, as nearly as I could tell, we dipped into a wooded +creek bottom some two hundred yards in width. The creek itself went +brawling along in a deep-worn channel, and when my horse got knee deep +in the water he promptly stopped and plunged his muzzle into the stream. +I gave him slack rein, and let him drink his fill. The others kept on, +climbed the short, steep bank, and passed from sight over its rim. I +swung down from my horse on the brink of the creek, cinched the saddle +afresh, and rolled a cigarette. If I thought about them getting the +start of me at all, it was to reflect that they couldn't get a lead of +more than two or three hundred yards, at the gait<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> they traveled. Judge +then of my surprise when I rode up out of the water-washed gully and +found them nowhere in sight. I pulled up and glanced about, but the +clumps of scrubby timber were just plentiful enough to cut off a clear +view of the flat. So I fell back on the simple methods of the plainsman +and Indian and jogged along on their trail.</p> + +<p>Not for many days did I learn truly how I came to miss them, how and why +they had vanished from the face of the earth so completely in the few +minutes I lingered in the gulch. The print of steel-rimmed hoofs showed +in the soft loam as plainly as a moccasin-track in virgin snow. Around a +grove of quaking-aspens, eternally shivering in the deadest of calms, +their trail led through the long grass that carpeted the bottom, and +suddenly ended in a strip of gravelly land that ran out from the bed of +the creek. I could follow it no farther. If there was other mark of +their passing, it was hidden from me.</p> + +<p>Wondering, and a bit exasperated, I spurred straight up the bank, and +when I had reached the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> high benchland loped to a point that overlooked +the little valley a full mile up and down. Cottonwood and willow, +cut-bank and crooning water, lay green and brown and silver-white +before, but no riders, no thing that moved in the shape of men came +within the scope of my eyes. But I wasn't done yet. I turned away from +the bank and raced up a long slope to a saw-backed ridge that promised +largely of unobstructed view. Dirty gray lather stood out in spumy rolls +around the edge of the saddle-blanket, and the wet flanks of my horse +heaved like the shoulders of a sobbing woman when I checked him on top +of a bald sandstone peak—and though as much of the Northwest as one +man's eye may hope to cover lay bared on every hand, yet the quartet +that rode with me from Fort Walsh occupied no part of the landscape. I +could look away to the horizon in every direction, and, except for one +little herd of buffalo feeding peacefully on the westward slant of the +ridge, I could see nothing but rolling prairie, a vast undulating spread +of grassland threaded here and there with darker lines<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> that stood for +creeks and coulées, and off to the north the blue bulk of the Cypress +Hills.</p> + +<p>I got off and sat me down upon a rock, rolled another cigarette, and +waited. The way to Pend d' Oreille led over the ridge, a half mile on +either side of me, as the spirit moved a traveler who followed an +approximately straight line. Whatever road they had taken, they could +not be more than three or four miles from that sentinel peak—for there +is a well-defined limit to the distance a mounted man may cover in a +given length of time. And from my roost I could note the passing of +anything bigger than a buffalo yearling, within a radius of at least six +miles. Therefore, I smoked my cigarette without misgiving, and kept +close watch for bobbing black dots against the far-flung green.</p> + +<p>I might as well have laid down and gone to sleep on that pinnacle for +all the good my waiting and eye-straining did me. One hour slipped by +and then another, and still I did not abandon hope of their appearance. +Naturally, I argued with myself, they would turn back when I failed to +overtake them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>—especially if they had thoughtlessly followed some +depression in the prairie where I could not easily see them. And while I +lingered, loath to believe that they were hammering unconcernedly on +their way, the sun slid down its path in the western sky—slid down till +its lower edge rested on the rim of the world and long black shadows +began to creep mysteriously out of the low places, while buttes and +ridges gleamed with cloth of gold, the benediction of a dying day. Only +then did I own that by hook or by crook—and mostly by crook, I was +forced to suspect—they had purposely given me the slip.</p> + +<p>A seasoned cowpuncher hates to admit that any man, or bunch of men, can +take him out into an open country and shake him off whenever it is +desired; but if I had been a rank tenderfoot they couldn't have jarred +me loose with greater ease. It was smooth work, and I couldn't guess the +object, unless it was a Mounted Policeman's idea of an excellent +practical joke on a supposedly capable citizen from over the line. +Anyway, they had left me holding the sack in a mighty poor snipe +country.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> Dark was close at hand, and I was a long way from shelter. So +when the creeping shadows blanketed pinnacle and lowland alike, and all +that remained of the sun was the flamboyant crimson-yellow on the +gathering clouds, I was astride of my dun <i>caballo</i> and heading for Pend +d' Oreille.</p> + +<p>But speedily another unforeseen complication arose. Before I'd gone five +miles the hoodoo that had been working overtime on my behalf got busy +again. The clouds that were rolling up from the east at sundown piled +thick and black overhead, and when dark was fairly upon me I was, for +all practical purposes, like a blind man in an unfamiliar room. It +didn't take me long to comprehend that I was merely wasting the strength +of my horse in bootless wandering; with moonlight I could have made it, +but in that murk I could not hope to find the post. So I had no choice +but to make camp in the first coulée that offered, and an exceeding lean +camp I found it—no grub, no fire, no rest, for though I hobbled my +horse I didn't dare let his rope out of my hands.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> + +<p>About midnight the combination of sultry heat and banked clouds produced +the usual results. Lightning first, lightning that ripped the sky open +from top to bottom in great blazing slits, and thunder that cracked and +boomed and rumbled in sharps and flats and naturals till a man could +scarcely hear himself think; then rain in flat chunks, as if some +malignant agency had yanked the bottom out of the sky and let the +accumulated moisture of centuries drop on that particular portion of the +Northwest. In fifteen minutes the only dry part of me was the crown of +my head—thanks be to a good Stetson hat. And my arms ached from the +strain of hanging onto my horse, for, hobbled as he was, he did his best +to get up and quit Canada in a gallop when the fireworks began. To make +it even more pleasant, when the clouds fell apart and the little stars +came blinking out one by one, a chill wind whistled up on the heels of +the storm, and I spent the rest of that night shivering forlornly in my +clammy clothes.</p> + +<p>Still a-shiver at dawn, I saddled up and loped for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> the crest of the +nearest divide to get the benefit of the first sun-rays. But alas! the +hoodoo was still plodding diligently on my trail. I topped a little +rise, and almost rode plump into the hostile arms of a half-dozen +breech-clout warriors coming up the other side. I think there were about +half a dozen, but I wouldn't swear to it. I hadn't the time nor +inclination to make an exact count. The general ensemble of war-paint +and spotted ponies was enough for me; I didn't need to be told that it +was my move. My spurs fairly lifted the dun horse, and we scuttled in +the opposite direction like a scared antelope. The fact that the average +Indian is not a master hand with a gun except at short range was my +salvation. If they'd been white men I would probably have been curled in +a neat heap within two hundred yards. As it was, they shot altogether +too close for comfort, and the series of yells they turned loose in that +peaceful atmosphere made me feel that I was due to be forcibly separated +from the natural covering of my cranium if I lost any time in getting +out of their sphere of influence.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> + +<p>The persistent beggars chased me a good ten miles before they drew up, +concluding, I suppose, that I was too well mounted for them to overhaul. +But it might have been a lot worse; I still had my scalp intact; the +chase and its natural excitement had brought a comfortable warmth to my +chilled body; and I had made good time in the direction I wished to go. +On the whole, I felt that the red brother had done me rather a good +turn. But I kept on high ground, thereafter, where I could see a mile or +two, for I was very much alive to the fact that if another of those +surprise-parties jumped me now that my horse was tired they would have a +good deal of fun at my expense; and an Indian's idea of fun doesn't +coincide with mine—not by a long shot!</p> + +<p>I made some pointed remarks to my horse about Mr. Goodell and his +companions, as I rode along. If Pend d' Oreille hadn't been the nearest +place, I'd have turned back to Walsh and made that bunch of exhumers +come back after me, if it were absolutely necessary that I should pilot +them to the graves.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> Personally, I thought those two old plainsmen +wouldn't thank Major Lessard or any one else for disturbing their last, +long sleep; the wide, unpeopled prairies had always been their choice in +life, and I felt that they would rather be laid away in some quiet +coulée, than in any conventional "city of the dead" with prim headstones +and iron fences to shut them in. A Western man likes lots of room; dead +or alive, it irks him to be crowded.</p> + +<p>I fully expected to find the four waiting for me at Pend d' Oreille, and +I was prepared to hear a good deal of chaffing about getting lost. What +of my waiting on the ridge that afternoon, and bearing more or less away +from the proper direction at night, I did not reach the post till noon; +and I was a bit puzzled to find only the men who were on duty there. I +was digesting this along with the remains of the troopers' dinner, when +Goodell and his satellites popped over the hill that looked down on Pend +d' Oreille, and, a few minutes later, came riding nonchalantly up to the +mess-house.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, you beat us in," Goodell greeted airily. "Did you find a short +cut?"</p> + +<p>"Sure thing," I responded, with what irony I could command.</p> + +<p>"Where the deuce <i>did</i> you go, anyway, after you stopped in that +creek-bottom?" he asked, eying me with much curiosity. "We nearly played +our horses out galloping around looking for you—after we'd gone a mile +or so, and you didn't catch up."</p> + +<p>"Then you must have kept damned close to the coulée-bottoms," I retorted +ungraciously, "for I burnt the earth getting up on a pinnacle where you +could see me, before you had time to go very far."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, it's easy to lose track of a lone man in a country as big as +this," he returned suavely. "We all got here, so what's the odds? I +guess we'll stick here till morning. We can't make the round trip this +afternoon, and I'm not camping on the hills when it's avoidable."</p> + +<p>It struck me that he was uncommonly philosophical about it, so I merely +grunted and went on with my dinner.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>That evening, when we went to the stable to fix up our horses for the +night, I got a clearer insight into his reason for laying over that +afternoon. They had been doing some tall riding, and their livestock was +simply unfit to go farther. The four saddle-horses looked as if they had +been dragged through a small-sized knothole; their gauntness, and the +dispirited droop of their heads, spelled complete fatigue to any man who +knew the symptoms of hard riding. By comparison, my sweat-grimed dun was +fresh as a morning breeze.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>THE GENTLEMAN WHO RODE IN THE LEAD.</h3> + + +<p>It took us all of the next day to make the trip to Stony Crossing and +back by way of the place where Rutter was buried. Goodell had no fancy, +he said, for a night camp on the prairie when it could be avoided. He +planned to make an early start from Pend d' Oreille, and thus reach Walsh +by riding late the next night. So, well toward evening, we swung back to +the river post. Goodell and his fellows were nowise troubled by the +presence of dead men; they might have been packing so much merchandise, +from their demeanor. But I was a long way from feeling cheerful. The +ghastly burdens, borne none too willingly by the extra horses, put a +damper on me, and I'm a pretty sanguine individual as a rule.</p> + +<p>When we had unloaded the bodies from the uneasy horses, and laid them +carefully in a lean-to at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> the stable-end, we led our mounts inside. +Goodell paused in the doorway and emitted a whistle of surprise at sight +of a horse in one of the stalls. I looked over his shoulder and +recognized at a glance the rangy black MacRae had ridden.</p> + +<p>"They must have given Mac's horse to another trooper," I hazarded.</p> + +<p>"Not that you could notice," Goodell replied, going on in. "They don't +switch mounts in the Force. If they have now, it's the first time to my +knowledge. When a man's in clink, his nag gets nothing but mild exercise +till his rightful rider gets out. And MacRae got thirty days. Well, +we'll soon find out who rode him in."</p> + +<p>I pulled the saddle off my horse, slapped it down on the dirt floor, and +went stalking up to the long cabin. The first man my eyes lighted upon +as I stepped inside was MacRae, humped disconsolately on the edge of a +bunk. I was mighty glad to see him, but I hadn't time to more than say +"hello" before Goodell and the others came in. Mac drew a letter from +his pocket and handed it to Goodell.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p> + +<p>He glanced quickly through it, then swept the rest of us with a +quizzical smile. "By Jove! you must have a pull with the old man, Mac," +he said to MacRae. "I suppose you know what's in this epistle?"</p> + +<p>"Partly." Mac answered as though it were no particular concern of his.</p> + +<p>"I'm to turn Hicks and Gregory over to you," he read the note again to +be sure of his words, "see that you get a week's supply of grub here, +and then leave you to your own devices. What's the excitement, now? +Piegans on the war-path? Bull-train missing, or whisky-runners getting +too fresh, or what? My word, the major has certainly established a +precedent; you're the first man I've known that got thirty days in clink +and didn't have to serve it to the last, least minute. How the deuce did +you manage it? Put me on, like a good fellow—I might want to get a +sentence suspended some day. Any of us are liable to get it, y'know." +Goodell's tone was full of gentle raillery.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The high and mighty sent me out to lead a forlorn hope," Mac dryly +responded. "Does that look like a suspended sentence?" He turned his arm +so that we could see the ripped stitching where his sergeant's stripes +had been cut away.</p> + +<p>"Tough—but most of us have been there, one time or another," Goodell +observed sympathetically; and with that the subject rested.</p> + +<p>Though I was burning to know things, we hadn't the least chance to talk +that evening. Nine lusty-lunged adults in that one room prohibited +confidential speech. Not till next morning, when we rode away from Pend +d' Oreille with our backs to a sun that was lazily clearing the +hill-tops, did MacRae and I have an opportunity to unburden our souls. +When we were fairly under way in the direction of Writing-Stone, Hicks +and Gregory—the breed scout—lagged fifty or sixty yards behind, and +MacRae turned in his saddle and gave me a queer sort of look.</p> + +<p>"I wasn't joking last night when I told Goodell that this was something +of a forlorn hope," he said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> "Are you ready to take a chance on getting +your throat cut or being shot in the back, Sarge?"</p> + +<p>I stared at him a second. It was certainly an astounding question, +coming from that source—more like the language of the villain in a +howling melodrama than a cold-blooded inquiry that called for a serious +answer. But he was looking at me soberly enough; and he wasn't in the +habit of saying startling things, unless there was a fairly solid basis +of truth in them. He was the last man in the world to accuse of saying +or doing anything merely for the sake of effect.</p> + +<p>"That depends," I returned. "Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because if we find what we're going after that's the sort of formation +we may have to buck against until we get that stuff to Walsh," he +replied coolly. "Beautiful prospect, eh? I reckon you'll understand +better if I tell you how it came about.</p> + +<p>"The day you left, Lessard had me up on the carpet again. When he got +through cross-questioning me, he considered a while, and finally said +that under the circumstances he felt that losing my<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> stripes would be +punishment enough for the rank insubordination I'd been guilty of, and +he would therefore revoke the thirty-day sentence. I pricked up my ears +at that, I can tell you, because Lessard isn't built that way at all. +When a man talks to any officer the way I did to him, he gets all that's +coming, and then some for good measure. I began to see light pretty +quick, though. He went on to say that he had spoken to Miss Rowan about +her father, and had learned that without doubt those two old fellows +were headed this way with between forty and fifty thousand dollars in +gold-dust, that they'd washed on Peace River. Since I'd been on the spot +when Rutter died, and knew the Writing-Stone country so well, he thought +I would stand a better show of finding their <i>cache</i> than any one else +he could send out. He wanted to recover that stuff for Miss Rowan, if it +were possible. So he wrote that order to Goodell and started me out to +join you—with a warning to keep our eyes open, for undoubtedly the men +who killed Rutter and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> held you up would be watching for a chance at us +if we found that gold."</p> + +<p>"Very acute reasoning on his part, I'm sure," I interrupted. "We knew +that without his telling. And if he thinks those fellows are hanging +about waiting for a whack at that dust, why doesn't he get out with a +bunch of his troopers and round them up?"</p> + +<p>"That's what," Mac grinned. "But wait a minute. This was about three in +the afternoon, and he ordered me to start at once so as to catch you +fellows as soon as possible. I started a few minutes after three. You +remember the paymaster's train left that morning. He had a mounted +escort of six or seven besides his teamster. The MacLeod trail runs less +than twenty miles north of here, you know. I followed it, knowing about +where they'd camp for the night, thinking I'd make their outfit and get +something to eat and a chance to sleep an hour or two; then I could come +on here early in the morning. I got to the place where I had figured +they would stop, about eleven o'clock, but they had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> made better time +than usual and gone farther, so I quit the trail and struck across the +hills, for I didn't want to ride too far out of my way. When I got on +top of the first divide I ran onto a little spring and stopped to water +my horse and let him pick a bit of grass; I'd been riding eight hours, +and still had quite a jaunt to make. I must have been about three miles +south of the trail then."</p> + +<p>He stopped to light the cigarette he had rolled while he talked, and I +kept still, wondering what would come next. MacRae wasn't the man to go +into detail like that unless he had something important to bring out.</p> + +<p>"I sat there about an hour, I reckon," he continued. "By that time it +was darker than a stack of black cats, and fixing to storm. I thought I +might as well be moving as sit there and get soaked to the hide. While I +was tinkering with the cinch I thought I heard a couple of shots. Of +course, I craned my neck to listen, and in a second a regular fusillade +broke out—away off, you know; about like a stick of dry wood crackling +in the stove when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> you're outside the cabin. I loped out of the hollow +by the spring and looked down toward the trail. The red flashes were +breaking out like a bunch of firecrackers, and with pretty much the same +sound. It didn't last long—a minute or so, maybe. I listened for a +while, but there was nothing to be seen and I heard no more shooting. +Now, I knew the pay-wagon was somewhere on that road, and it struck me +that the bunch that got Hans and Rowan and held us up might have tried +the same game on it; and from the noise I judged it hadn't been a +walkaway. It was a wild guess; but I thought I ought to go down and see, +anyway. Single-handed, and in that dark you could almost feel, I knew I +was able to sidestep the trouble, if it should be Indians or anything I +didn't care to get mixed up in.</p> + +<p>"I'd gone about a mile down the slope when the lightning began to tear +the sky open. In five minutes the worst of it was right over me, and one +flash came on top of the other so fast it was like a big eye winking +through the clouds. One second the hills and coulées would show plain as +day, and next<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> you'd have to feel to find the ears of your horse. I +pulled up, for I didn't care to go down there with all that +lightning-play to make a shining mark of me, and while I sat there +wondering how long it was going to last, a long, sizzling streak went +zig-zagging up out of the north and another out of the east, and when +they met overhead and the white glare spread over the clouds, it was +like the sun breaking out over the whole country. It lit up every ridge +and hollow for two or three seconds, and showed me four riders tearing +up the slope at a high run. I don't think they saw me at all, for they +passed me, in the dark that shut down after that flash of lightning, so +close that I could hear the pat-a-pat of the hoofs. And when the next +flash came they were out of sight.</p> + +<p>"Right after that the rain hit me like a cloudburst. That was over +quick, and by the time it had settled to a drizzle I was down in the +paymaster's camp. Things were sure in an uproar there. Two men killed, +two more crippled, and the paymaster raving like a maniac. I hadn't been +far wide of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> the mark. The men that passed me on the ridge had held up +the outfit—and looted fifty thousand dollars in cold cash."</p> + +<p>"Fifty thousand—the devil!" I broke in. "And they got away with it?"</p> + +<p>"With all the ease in the world," MacRae answered calmly. "They made a +sneak on the camp in the dark, clubbed both sentries, and had their guns +on the rest before they knew what was wrong. They got the money, and +every horse in camp. The shooting I heard came off as they started away +with the plunder. Some of the troopers grabbed up their guns and cut +loose at random, and these hold-up people returned the compliment with +deadly effect.</p> + +<p>"That isn't all," he continued moodily. "I stayed there till daylight, +and then gathered up their stock. All the thieves wanted of the horses +was to set the outfit afoot for the time being—a trick which bears the +earmarks of the bunch that got in their work on us. They had turned the +horses loose a mile or so away, and I found them grazing together. When<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +I'd brought them in I got a bite to eat and came on about my own +business.</p> + +<p>"Up on the ridge, close by the spring I had stopped at, I came slap on +their track; the four horses had pounded a trail in the wet sod that a +kid could follow. I tore back to the paymaster's camp and begged him to +get his men mounted and we would follow it up. But he wouldn't listen to +such a thing. I don't know why, unless he had some money they had +overlooked and was afraid they might come back for another try at him. +So I went back and hit the trail alone. It led south for a while, and +then east to Sage Creek. This was day before yesterday, you <i>sabe</i>. Near +noon I found a place where they'd <i>cached</i> two extra horses in the brush +on Sage Creek. After that their track turned straight west again, and it +was hard to follow, for the ground was drying fast. Finally I had to +quit—couldn't make out hoof-marks any more. And it was so late I had to +lie out that night. I got to Pend d' Oreille yesterday morning two or +three hours after you fellows left for the crossing."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> + +<p>I haven't quite got a gambler's faith in a hunch, or presentiment, or +intuitive conclusion—whatever term one chooses to apply—but from the +moment he spoke of seeing four riders on a ridge during that frolic of +the elements, a crazy idea kept persistently turning over and over in my +mind; and when Mac got that far I blurted it out for what it was worth, +prefacing it with the happenings of the trip from Walsh to Pend +d' Oreille. He listened without manifesting the interest I looked for, +tapping idly on the saddle-horn, and staring straight ahead with an odd +pucker about his mouth.</p> + +<p>"I was just going to ask you if you all came through together," he +observed, in a casual tone. "I neglected to say that I got a pretty fair +look at those fellows. In fact, I wouldn't hesitate to swear to the face +of the gentleman who rode in the lead of the four."</p> + +<p>"You did? Was it—was my hunch right?" I demanded eagerly.</p> + +<p>"I could turn in my saddle and shoot his eye out," MacRae responded +whimsically. "And I don't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> know but that would be more than justice. Of +course, the others were the men, but I'm positive of Gregory. You see +what we're up against, Sarge.</p> + +<p>"That's why," he soberly concluded, "I think we'll have our hands full +if we do locate that stuff. It's a big chunk of money, and a little +thing like killing a man or two won't trouble them. We'll be watched +every minute of the time that we prowl around those painted rocks; +that's a cinch. And when we've pulled the chestnut out of the fire +they'll gobble it—if there's the ghost of a chance."</p> + +<p>While I was digesting this unpalatable information, Hicks and Gregory +spurred abreast of us; for the remainder of the journey we four rode +elbow to elbow, and conversation was scant.</p> + +<p>Mid-afternoon found us camped under the Stone. Once on the ground, I +began to think we were in no immediate danger of getting our throats cut +for the sake of the treasure. Rutter had said "under the Stone"—and the +vagueness of his words came home to me with considerable force, for the +Stone, roughly estimated, was a good mile in length. It paral<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>leled the +river, a perpendicular wall of gray sandstone. An aptly-named place; +wherever a ledge offered foothold, and even in places that seemed wholly +beyond reach of human hands, the bald front of the cliff was chiseled +with rude traceries—the picture-writing of the Blackfoot tribe. The +history of a thousand battles and buffalo-hunts was written there. And +somewhere at the foot of that mile-long cliff, under the uncouth figures +carved by the red men in their hour of triumphant ease, rested that +which we had come to find. I sat with my back against a cottonwood and +smoked a cigarette while I considered the impassive front of +Writing-On-the-Stone; and the fruit of my consideration was that he who +sought for the needle in the haystack had no more difficult task than +ours.</p> + +<p>In due time we ate supper, and dark spread its mantle over the land. +Then MacRae and I crawled up on a projecting ledge of rock to roll out +our blankets—in a place where we could not well be surprised. Not that +either of us anticipated anything of the sort so early in the game; when +we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> had found what we were after, that would come. But the mere fact +that we were all playing a part made us incline to caution. I don't know +if we betrayed our knowledge or suspicions to Hicks and Gregory, but it +was a good deal of an effort to treat those red-handed scoundrels as if +they were legitimate partners in a risky enterprise. We had to do it, +though. Until they showed their hand we could do nothing but stand pat +and wait for developments; and if they watched us unobtrusively, we did +the same by them. It is not exactly soothing to the nerves, however, to +be in touch all day and then lie down to sleep at night within a few +feet of men whom you imagine are only awaiting the proper moment to +introduce a chunk of lead into your system or slip a knife under your +fifth rib. I can't truthfully say that I slept soundly on that ledge.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>WE LOSE AGAIN.</h3> + + +<p>Three days later MacRae and I scaled the steep bank at the west end of +the cliff and threw ourselves, panting, on the level that ran up to the +sheer drop-off. When we had regained the breath we'd lost on that +Mansard-roof climb we drew near to the edge, where we could stare into +the valley three hundred feet below while we made us a cigarette apiece. +We were just a mite discouraged. Beginning that first morning at the +east end of the Writing-Stone we had worked west, conning the +weather-worn face of it for a mark that would give a clue to the +<i>cache</i>. Also we had scanned carefully the sandy soil patches along the +boulder-strewn base, seeking the tell-tale footprints of horse or man. +And we had found nothing. Each day the conviction grew stronger upon us +that finding that gold would be purely chance, a miracle of luck; +systematic search had so far resulted in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> nothing but blistered heels +from much walking. And unless we did find it, thereby giving the +gentlemen of the mask some incentive to match themselves against us once +more, we were not likely to have the opportunity of breaking up a nervy +bunch of murdering thieves.</p> + +<p>We reasoned that the men whose guns we had looked into over Rutter's +body and those who robbed the paymaster on the MacLeod trail were tarred +with the same stick; likewise, that even now two of them ate out of the +same pot with us three times daily. The thing was to prove it. +Personally, the paymaster's trouble was none of my concern; what I +wanted was to get back that ten thousand dollars, or deal those hounds +ten thousand dollars' worth of misery. Not that I wasn't willing to take +a long chance to help Lyn to her own, but I was human enough to remember +that I had a good deal at stake myself. It was a rather depressed +stock-hand, name of Flood, who blew cigarette smoke out over the brow of +Writing-Stone that evening.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mac finished smoking and ground the stub into the earth with his heel. +For another minute or two he sat there without speaking, absently +flipping pebbles over the bank.</p> + +<p>"I reckon we might as well poke along the top to camp," he said at last, +getting to his feet. "I sent that breed back, down there, so we could +talk without having to keep cases on him. This is beginning to look like +a hopeless case, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Somewhat," I admitted. "I did think that Rutter's description would put +us on the right track when we got there; but I can't see much meaning in +it now. I suppose we'll just have to keep on going it blind."</p> + +<p>"We'll have to stay with it while there's any chance," he said +thoughtfully. "But I've been thinking that it might be a good plan to +take a fall out of those two." He jerked his thumb in the direction of +camp. "If we have sized things up right, they'll make some sort of move, +and if we're mistaken there will be no harm done. I'll tell you an idea +that popped into my head a minute ago.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> We can pretend to locate the +stuff. Fix up a couple of dummy sacks, you know, and get them to camp +and packed on the horse without letting them see what's inside. If Lyn +gave Lessard the right figures, there should be between a hundred and +forty or fifty pounds of dust. It's small in bulk, but weighty as a bad +conscience. If we had a couple of little sacks we could get around that +problem, easy enough—this black sand along the river would pass for +gold-dust in weight. We could make the proper sort of play, and give +them the chance they're looking for. If they make a break it'll be up to +us to get the best of the trouble."</p> + +<p>"It might work," I replied. "If you think it would make them tip their +hand, I'm with you. This watch-the-other-fellow business is making me +nervous as an old woman. Once we had those two dead to rights they might +let out something that would enable us to land the whole bunch, and the +plunder besides; once we had them rounded up we could come back here and +hunt for Hank Rowan's gold-dust in peace."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You've got the idea exactly, and we'll see what we can do in the +morning," Mac returned. "But don't get married to the notion that +they'll cough up all they know, right off the reel. Hicks might, if you +went at him hard enough. But not the other fellow. Gregory's game clear +through—he's demonstrated that in different ways since I've been in the +Force. You could carve him to pieces without hearing a cheep, if he +decided to keep his mouth shut. And he's about as dangerous a man in a +scrimmage as I know. If there's a row, don't overlook Mr. Gregory."</p> + +<p>We hoofed it toward camp as briskly as our galled feet would permit, for +the sun was getting close to the sky line, and talked over Mac's scheme +as we went. There was no danger of being overheard on that bench. As a +matter of fact, Hicks and Gregory didn't know we were up there; at +least, they were not supposed to know. MacRae had made a practice of +leaving one or the other in camp, in case some prowling Indians should +spy our horses and attempt to run them off. That afternoon Hicks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> had +been on guard. When Mac started Gregory back he told him that we would +be along presently, then sat himself down on a rock and watched the +breed. When he was far enough up the flat to lose track of our movements +we dropped into a convenient washout and sneaked along it to the foot of +the bank, where a jutting point of rock hid sight of us climbing the +hill.</p> + +<p>We had no thought of spying on them, at first—it was simply to be rid +of their onerous presence for a while, and getting on the bench was an +afterthought. But as we came opposite camp, MacRae took a notion to look +down and see what they were about. At a point which overlooked the +bottom some two hundred yards from the east end of the Stone, we got +down on our stomachs and wriggled carefully to the naked rim of the +cliff. For some time we laid there, peering down at the men below. Hicks +was puttering around the fire, evidently cooking supper, and Gregory was +moving the picket rope of his horse to fresh grass. There was nothing +out of the ordinary to be seen, and I drew back.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> But MacRae still kept +his place. When he did back away from the edge, he had the look of a man +who has made some important discovery.</p> + +<p>"On my soul, I believe I've found it," he calmly announced.</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"I believe I have," he repeated, a trace of exultation in his tone. "At +least, it amounts to the same thing. Crawl up there again, Sarge, and +look straight down at the first ledge from the bottom. Hurry; you won't +see anything if the sun has left it. And be careful how you show your +head. We don't want to get them stirred up till we have to."</p> + +<p>Cautiously I peeped over the brink, straight down as Mac had directed. +The shadow that follows on the heels of a setting sun was just creeping +over the ledge, but the slanting rays lingered long enough to give me +sight of a glittering patch on the gray stone shelf below. While I +stared the sun withdrew its fading beams from the whole face of the +cliff, but even in the duller light a glint of yellow<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> showed dimly, a +pin point of gold in the deepening shadow.</p> + +<p>Gold! I drew back from the rim of Writing-On-the-Stone, that set of +whispered phrases echoing in my ears. Mac caught my eye and grinned. +"<i>Gold—raw gold—on the rock—above.</i>" I mouthed the words parrotlike, +and he nodded comprehendingly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thunder!" I exclaimed. "Do you reckon <i>that's</i> what he meant?"</p> + +<p>"What else?" Mac reasoned. "They'd mark the place somehow—and aren't +those his exact words? What dummies we were not to look on those ledges +before. You can't see the surface of them from the flat; and we might +have known they would hardly put a mark where it could be seen by any +pilgrim who happened to ride through that bottom."</p> + +<p>"Hope you're right," I grunted optimistically.</p> + +<p>"We'll know beyond a doubt, in the morning," Mac declared. "To-night we +won't do anything but eat, drink, and sleep as sound as possible, for +to-morrow we may have one hell of a time. I prefer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> to have a few hours +of daylight ahead of us when we raise that <i>cache</i>. Things are apt to +tighten, and I don't like a rumpus in the dark. Just now I'm hungry. If +that stuff is there, it will keep. Come on to camp; our troubles are +either nearly over or just about to begin in earnest."</p> + +<p>We followed the upland past the end of the Stone till we found a slope +that didn't require wings for descent. If Hicks or Gregory wondered at +our arrival from the opposite direction in which we should have +appeared, they didn't betray any unseemly curiosity. Supper and a +cigarette or two consumed the twilight hour, and when dark shut down we +took to our blankets and dozed through the night.</p> + +<p>At daybreak we breakfasted. Without a word to any one MacRae picked up +his carbine and walked out of camp. I followed, equally silent. It was +barely a hundred yards to the ledge, and I caught myself wishing it were +a good deal farther—out of range of those watchful eyes. I couldn't +help won<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>dering how it would feel to be potted at the moment of +discovery.</p> + +<p>"I thought I'd leave them both behind, and let them take it out in +guessing," Mac explained, when we stood under the rock shelf upon which +we had looked down the evening before. "We're right under their noses, +so they won't do anything till the stuff's actually in sight."</p> + +<p>He studied the face of the cliff for a minute. The ledge jutted out from +the towering wall approximately twenty feet above our heads, but it +could be reached by a series of jagged points and knobs; a sort of +natural stairway—though some of the steps were a long way apart. +Boulders of all shapes and sizes lay bedded in the soft earth where we +stood.</p> + +<p>"You shin up there, Sarge," Mac commanded, "and locate that mark. It +ought to be an easy climb."</p> + +<p>I "shinned," and reached the ledge with a good deal of skin peeled from +various parts of my person. The first object my eye fell upon as I +hoisted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> myself above the four-foot shelf was a dull, yellow spot on the +gray rock, near enough so that I could lean forward and touch it with my +fingers. A two-inch circle of the real thing—I'd seen enough gold in +the raw to know it without any acid test—hammered into the coarse +sandstone. I pried it up with the blade of my knife and looked it over. +Originally it had been a fair-sized nugget. Hans or Rowan had pounded it +into place with the back of a hatchet (the corner-marks told me that), +flattening it to several times its natural diameter. I threw it down to +MacRae, and looked carefully along the ledge. There was no other mark +that I could see; I began to wonder if we were as hot on the scent as we +had thought.</p> + +<p>"Is there a loose piece of rock up there?" Mac called presently. "If +there is, set it on the edge, in line with where this was."</p> + +<p>I found a fragment about the size of my fist and set it on the rim of +the ledge. He squinted up at it a moment, then nodded, smiling.</p> + +<p>"Come on down now, Sarge," he grinned; and,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> seating himself on a rock +with the carbine across his knees, he began to roll a cigarette, as if +the finding of Hank Rowan's gold-<i>cache</i> were a thing of no importance +whatever.</p> + +<p>"Well," I began, when I had negotiated that precarious succession of +knobs and notches and accumulated a fresh set of bruises, "why don't you +get busy? How much wiser are you now? Where's your gold-dust?"</p> + +<p>He took a deliberate puff and squinted up at the ledge again. "I'm +sitting on it, as near as I can figure," he coolly asserted.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are," I fleered. "I'm from Missouri!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're a doubting Thomas of the first water," he said. "Stand +behind me, you confounded unbeliever. Kink your back a little and look +over that stone you set for a mark. Do you see anything that catches +your attention?"</p> + +<p>Getting in the position he suggested, I looked up. Away back in the days +before the white man was a power to be reckoned with in the Indian's +scheme of things, some warrior had stood upon that self-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>same ledge and +hacked out with a flint chisel what he and his fellows doubtless +considered a work of art. Uncanny-looking animals, and uncannier figures +that might have passed for anything from an articulated skeleton to a +Missing Link, cavorted in a long line across that tribal +picture-gallery. Between each group of figures the face of the rock was +scored with mysterious signs and rudely limned weapons of war and chase. +Right over the stone marker, a long-shafted war-lance was carved—the +blade pointing down. MacRae's seat, stone-marker, and aboriginal +spearhead; the three lined up like the sights of a modern rifle. The +conclusion, in the light of what we knew from Rutter, was obvious, even +to a lunkhead like myself.</p> + +<p>"It looks like you might have struck it," I was constrained to admit.</p> + +<p>Mac threw away his cigarette. "Here and now is where we find out," he +declared.</p> + +<p>Worming our fingers under the edge of the boulder, we lifted with all +the strength that was in us. For a second it seemed that we could never +budge it. Then it began to rise slowly, so slowly that I thought the +muscles of my back would snap, and MacRae's face close by mine grew red +and then purple with the strain. But it moved, and presently a great +heave turned it over. Bedded in the soft earth underneath lay the slim +buckskin sacks. Our fingers, I remember, trembled a bit as we stood one +on end and loosened its mouth to make sure if we had found the treasure +for which two men had already lost their lives.</p> + +<p><a name="bedded" id="bedded"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img02.jpg" alt="BEDDED IN THE SOFT EARTH" title="BEDDED IN THE SOFT EARTH" /></div> +<h4>BEDDED IN THE SOFT EARTH UNDERNEATH<br />LAY THE SLIM BUCKSKIN +SACKS.<br /> +<a href='#Page_159'><i>Page 159.</i></a></h4> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Here"—Mac handed me his carbine—"you stay with the yellow temptation. +From now on we'll have to keep a close eye on this stuff, and likewise +have our guns handy. I'll make those fellows pack up and bring the +horses here. Then we'll load this and pull for Walsh."</p> + +<p>His first move was to saddle his black horse and my dun. These he led to +the fire, and thereafter stood a little to one side, placidly consuming +a cigarette while the other two packed the camp-outfit and saddled their +own mounts. Then they trailed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> across the flat toward me, MacRae blandly +bringing up the rear. He wasn't taking any chances.</p> + +<p>Half an hour later, with the sacks of gold securely lashed on the +<i>aparejos</i> of the pack-horse, we climbed out of Writing-Stone bottom and +swung away over the silent tablelands.</p> + +<p>With Writing-on-the-Stone scarcely three miles behind, the +long-abandoned burrow of a badger betrayed us into the hands of the +enemy. (What a power for thwarting the plans of men little things +sometimes exercise!) We had contrived that Gregory should lead the +pack-horse, which gave MacRae and me both hands to use in case of a +hostile demonstration; that there would be such, neither of us doubted +from the moment those two laid eyes on the buckskin sacks. The sidelong, +covetous glance that passed between them bespoke what was in their +minds. And from that time on the four of us were like so many +open-headed casks of powder sitting by a fire; sooner or later a spark +would bring the explosion. We had them at a disadvantage trotting across +the level upland, Gregory in the lead and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> Hicks sandwiched between Mac +and myself—until MacRae's horse planted his foreleg to the knee in an +old badger-hole hidden under a rank accumulation of grass. The black +pitched forward so suddenly that Mac had no time to swing clear, and as +he went down under the horse Gregory's agile brain grasped the +opportunity of the situation, and his gun flashed out of its scabbard.</p> + +<p>My hand flew to mine as I jerked the dun up short, but I wasn't fast +enough—and Hicks was too close. It was a trilogy of gun-drawing. +Gregory drew his and fired at MacRae with the devilish quickness of a +striking rattler; I drew with intent to get Mr. Gregory; and Hicks drew +his and slapped me over the head with it, even as my finger curled on +the trigger. My gun went off, I know—afterward I had a dim recollection +of a faint report—but whether the bullet went whistling into the blue +above or buried itself in the broad bosom of the Territory, I can't say. +Things ceased to happen, right then and there, so far as I was +concerned. And I haven't satisfied myself yet why Hicks struck<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> instead +of shooting; unless he had learned the frontier lesson that a bullet in +a vital spot doesn't <i>always</i> incapacitate a man for deadly gun-play, +while a hard rap on the head invariably does. It wasn't any scruple of +mercy, for Hicks was as cold-blooded a brute as ever glanced down a +gun-barrel.</p> + +<p>When my powers of sight and speech and hearing returned, MacRae stood +over me, nowise harmed. The black horse lay where he had fallen. I sat +up and glanced about, thankful that I was still in the flesh, but in a +savage mood for all that. This, thought I, is a dismal-looking +outcome—two men and a dead horse left high and dry on the sun-flooded +prairie. And a rampant ache in my head, seconded by a medium-sized gash +in the scalp, didn't make for an access of optimism at that moment.</p> + +<p>"Well," I burst out profanely, "we lose again, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Looks like it," Mac answered laconically. Then he whirled about and +walked to a little point some distance away, where he stood with his +back to me, looking toward Lost River.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>OUTLAWED.</h3> + + +<p>I sat where I was for a while, fingering my sore head and keeping my +thoughts to myself, for I had a keen sense of the mood he was in. For +the second time, through no fault of his own, he had failed to live up +to that tradition of the Force which accepts nothing short of +unqualified victory for a Mounted Policeman when he clashes with +breakers of the law. And, in addition, he had let slip through his +fingers a fortune that belonged to a woman for whom he cared a great +deal more than he was willing to admit. I felt pretty small and ashamed +myself, to think of the ease with which they had left us afoot on the +bald prairie after all our scheming, our precaution against something we +were sure would happen; and there was no responsibility on my +shoulders—except for that ten thousand of La Pere's, which I was +beginning to think I'd looked my last upon. Mac had not only<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> the +knowledge of personal failure—bitter enough, itself, to a man of his +temperament—to gnaw at him, but the prospect of another grilling from +the powers in gold braid. It would have been strange if he hadn't felt +blue.</p> + +<p>He came back, however, in a few minutes, and squatting beside me +abstractedly got out papers and tobacco.</p> + +<p>"I suppose that bunch will quit the country now," he remarked at length. +"They've got their hands on a heap of money in the last ten days; all +they'll have a chance to grab for some time. And they've come out into +the open. So there's not much doubt of their next move—they'll be on +the wing."</p> + +<p>"Well, we have a cinch on identifying them now," I commented. "We've got +that much out of the deal. If the Mounted Police are half as good +man-hunters as they are said to be, they ought to round up that bunch in +short order. Did the black hurt you when he fell?"</p> + +<p>"Bruised my leg some," he returned indifferently. Then, scowling at the +remembrance: "If he hadn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> caught me right under him I'd have got +action on those two. But the jar threw my six-shooter where I couldn't +reach it, and the carbine was jammed in the stirrup-leather on the wrong +side. I reckon Gregory thought he got me first shot. He would have, too, +only Crow threw up his head and stopped the bullet instead of me. They +had ducked into that coulée by the time I got clear. Hicks grabbed your +horse and took him along. I'm somewhat puzzled to know why they didn't +stand pat and make a clean job of us both. Blast them, anyway!"</p> + +<p>"Same here, and more of it," I fervently exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Come on, let's get out of here," Mac abruptly proposed. "We'll have to +make Pend d' Oreille and send word to Walsh. It'll take the whole force +to catch them now."</p> + +<p>My gun lay where it had fallen when Hicks whacked me over the head. I +picked it up, replaced the empty cartridge, and shoved it back into the +scabbard. MacRae hoisted the carbine to his shoulder, and we started.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p> + +<p>We poked along slowly at first, for I was still a bit dizzy from that +blow. Before long we came to a spring seeping from the hillside, and +when I had bathed my head in the cool water I began to feel more like +myself. Thereafter, we tramped silently across high, dry benches, slid +and scrambled to the bottoms of an endless succession of coulées, and +wearily climbed the steep banks that lay beyond. The cool morning wind +died away; the sun reeled up on its appointed circle, glaring brazenly +into every nook and cranny in the land. Underfoot, the dry sod grew +warm, then hot, till the soles of our boots became instruments of +torture to feet that were sadly galled by fruitless tramping around the +Stone. When a man has grown up in the habit of mounting a horse to +travel any distance over three hundred yards, a walk of twenty +undulating miles over a network of bald ridges and yawning coulées makes +him think that a sulphur-and-brimstone hereafter can't possibly hold +much discomfort that he hasn't sampled. A cowpuncher in high-heeled +riding-boots is handicapped for pedestrianism by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> both training and +inclination—and that scarred and wrinkled portion of the Northwest is a +mighty poor strolling-ground for any man.</p> + +<p>But we kept on, for the simple reason that there was nothing else we +could do. MacRae wasted no breath in words. If the heat and the ungodly +steepness of the hills and the luke-warm water that trickled along the +creek channels ruffled his temper, he made no noise about it, only +pressed doggedly toward Pend d' Oreille. I daresay he thought I was +attending to that part of it, registering a complaint for both of us. +And if I didn't rise to the occasion it was the fault of my limited +vocabulary. I kept a stiff backbone for a while, but presently a futile +rage against circumstances bubbled up and boiled over. I climbed each +succeeding canyon wall oozing perspiration and profanity, and when the +top was reached took fresh breath and damned the Northwest by sections +in a large, fluent manner of speech. In time, however, the foolishness +of this came home to me, and I subsided into spasmodic growling, saving +my wind for the miles yet to cover.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p> + +<p>Well past noon we reached the summit of a hog-backed ridge that +overlooked the tortuous windings of Lost River, a waterless channel +between banks that were void of vegetation. The crest of the divide was +studded with great outcroppings of sand-stone, and in the shadow of one +giant rock we laid down to rest before we descended into that barren +valley where the heat-waves shimmered like crepon silk. The cool bit of +earth was good to stretch upon; for nearly an hour we laid there, beyond +reach of the glowing sun; it was worth almost the treasure we had lost +to ease our aching feet. Then reluctantly we started again.</p> + +<p>As we stepped from behind the rock three riders came into sight on the +opposite slope of Lost River. A moment's scrutiny assured us that they +were Mounted Policemen. From habit our eyes swept the surrounding +country, and in a moment we observed other groups of mounted men, an +equal distance apart and traveling in the same general direction—like a +round-up sweeping over a cattle-range.</p> + +<p>"They're out for somebody. I shouldn't be sur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>prised if they have +smelled out our friends," said MacRae. "And seeing this bunch is heading +right toward us, we might as well take it easy here till they come up."</p> + +<p>Returning to the cool shade, we waited till they crossed that miniature +desert. I looked once or twice, and hoped we would not have to walk over +it; I'd seen the Mohave and the Staked Plains, and I knew it was +sizzling hot in that ancient river-bed—it <i>is</i> hot, and dry, when the +heat-waves play tricks with objects seen from afar. Those three riders +moved in a transparent haze, distorted, grotesque figures; now giants, +broad, uncouth shapes; now pigmies astride of horses that progressed +slowly on long, stiltlike legs, again losing form and waving like tall, +slender trees swayed by vagrant winds. After a time they ascended above +the level where the superheated atmosphere played its pranks, and came +riding up the ridge in their true presentment. When they got within +shouting distance we stepped into the sunlight and hailed them.</p> + +<p>From the moment that they jerked up their horses<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> at MacRae's call, I +had an odd sense of impending trouble. For an instant it seemed as if +they were about to break for cover; and when they approached us there +was a strained, expectant expression on each tanned face, a wariness in +their actions that looked unnatural to me. The nearer they came the more +did I feel keyed up for some emergency. I can't explain why; that's +something that I don't think will bear logical analysis. Who can explain +the sixth sense that warns a night-herder of a stampede a moment before +the herd jumps off the bed-ground? But that is how I felt—and +immediately it transpired that there was good reason.</p> + +<p>They stopped their horses within ten feet of us and dismounted, all +three of them, a corporal and two privates, in the same breath that we +said "hello." The corporal, rather chalky-looking under his tan, stepped +forward and laid a hand on MacRae's shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Gordon MacRae and Sarge Flood, in the Queen's name I arrest you for the +robbery of Paymaster Ingstram on the MacLeod trail and the mur<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>der of +two of his escort, and I warn you that anything you may say will be used +against you."</p> + +<p>He poured it out without pause or inflection, like a lesson well +learned, a little ceremony of speech that it was well to hurry over; and +the two troopers edged nearer, the right hand of each stealing toward +the pistol that rested on his hip. It took nerve to beard us that way, +when one comes to think it over. If we had been guilty of that raid, it +was dollars to doughnuts that we would resist arrest, and according to +the rules and regulations of the Force, they were compelled to take a +long chance. A Mounted Policeman can't use his gun except in +self-defense. He isn't supposed to smoke up a fugitive unless the +fugitive begins to throw lead his way—which method of procedure gives a +man who is, in the vernacular, "on the dodge" all the best of a +situation like that; for it gives an outlaw a chance to take the +initiative, and the first shot often settles an argument of that kind. +The dominating idea, as I understood it, was that the majesty of the law +should prove a sufficiently powerful weapon; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> in the main it did. No +thief, murderer, or smuggler ever yet successfully and systematically +defied it. Men have gone to the bad up there—robbed, murdered, +defrauded, killed a Policeman or two, maybe, but in the end were +gathered in by "the riders of the plains" and dealt with according to +their just deserts. So it has come to pass throughout the length and +breadth of the Northwest that "in the Queen's name" out of the mouth of +an unarmed redcoat, with one hand lightly on your shoulder, carries more +weight than a smoking gun.</p> + +<p>None of this occurred to me, just then. The one thing that loomed big in +my mind's eye was the monstrous injustice of the accusation. Coming +right on top of what I'd lately experienced at the hands of the men who +had really done that dirty job—my head still tingled from the impact of +Hicks' pistol—it stirred up all the ugliness I was capable of, and a +lot that I had never suspected. No Fort Walsh guardhouse for me! No +lying behind barred windows, with my feet chain-hobbled like a straying +horse, while the slow-moving Cana<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>dian courts debated my guilt or +innocence! Not while I had the open prairie underfoot and the summer sky +above, and hands to strike a blow or pull a trigger.</p> + +<p>Even had I been alone I think that I was crazy enough, for the moment, +to have matched myself single-handed against the three of them. In which +case I should likely have bidden a premature farewell to all earthly +interests—though I might, perhaps, have managed to take with me a +Policeman or two for company on the long trail. But a queer look that +flashed over MacRae's face, a suggestive drawing back of his arm, +intimated that something of the same was in his mind. Heavens, but a man +can think a lot in the space of time it takes to count three!</p> + +<p>I jumped for the two troopers, with a frenzied notion that I could put +them both out of business if MacRae would only attend to the corporal. +The distance didn't permit of gun-play; and, hot as I was, I had the +sense to know that those men weren't responsible for my troubles; I +didn't want to kill<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> them, if I could help it—what I desired above all +else was to get away, and burn powder with Hicks, Gregory and Co., if +powder-burning was to be on the programme. They did try to pull their +guns, but I was too close. I spoiled their good intentions by kicking +one with all the force I could muster, and throwing my arms in a fervent +embrace about the neck of the other.</p> + +<p>A number eight box-toed riding-boot planted suddenly in the pit of one's +stomach brings about the same result as a kick from a vigorous Missouri +mule, I should imagine; anyway, that Mounted Policeman was eliminated as +a fighting unit from the instant my toe made connections with his +person. The other fellow and I went to the ground, and our struggle was +of short duration, for Mac bought into the ruction with his carbine for +a club, and under its soothing touch my wiry antagonist ceased from +troubling. I scrambled to my feet and glanced around. The corporal was +sprawled on the grass, his face to the sky.</p> + +<p>"We've burned our bridges now, sure as fate,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> Mac broke out. "Here, +I'll peel the guns off the bunch, and you lead their horses up to the +rock out of sight of these other fellows. If they catch sight of us +milling around here they're apt to swing over this way to see what's +up."</p> + +<p>I led the horses close to the boulder and left them standing there while +I hurried back. By that time the fellow I'd kicked had so far recovered +as to sit up, and the look he gave us was a scorcher. MacRae, with +cocked carbine to emphasize his command, ordered him to drag his comrade +to where the horses stood; and I followed after, lugging the insensible +corporal to the same shady place.</p> + +<p>"I want to know the how of this," Mac demanded of the trooper. "Who +issued orders for our arrest on this damn fool charge? And when?"</p> + +<p>"Lessard give us our orders," the Policeman growled. "He's been out with +a whole bloomin' troop ever since he got word the paymaster 'ad bin +stuck up. We got a commissary along, an' nooned about ten miles east o' +here. After dinner—about two or three hours ago—he lined us up an' +said as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> 'ow he'd got word that you two fellers 'ad bin identified as +bein' the chaps as pulled off that paymaster row, an' that he wanted +you. Said he 'ad reason t' believe you was some'ers between Lost River +an' the Stone, an' you was t' be captured without fail. An' that's all I +know about it," he concluded frankly, "except that you fellers is bloody +fools t' make a break like this. It'll go that much 'arder with +you—there ain't a bloomin' chance for you t' get away. You might just +as well give up peaceable."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't preach," MacRae protested. "I know all that as well as you +do. Great Scott! Burky, you've known me ever since I joined; do you +imagine for a minute that I was in on that hold-up? Why, you know +better. If I'd done anything so damned rotten, I'd have been out of the +country long before this."</p> + +<p>"Orders is orders," Burky sententiously observed. "Headquarters sez +you're t' be took in, an' you'll be took in, no matter what a feller's +private opinion happens t' be. I ain't no bloomin' judge an' jury t'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +set on your case, anyway. You'll get a square trial—same as everybody +gets. But you ain't a-helpin' yourself a-cuttin' of didoes like this."</p> + +<p>"I haven't time to go into details," Mac told him, "and I don't suppose +you'd believe me if I did. But I've a blamed good reason for not wanting +to put in several months cooling my heels under guard while the men that +got the stuff get clear out of the country. We're going to take two of +these horses, because we'll need them in our business; and we'll leave +your guns at that big rock down the ridge. I don't want to hurt you, +Burky, but if you start making signals to the rest of the bunch before +we get out of sight, you'll go back to Walsh feet first. So be good. +You'll see us again before long."</p> + +<p>When we were ready to mount, MacRae fired another question at Burky. +"Say, have you seen anything of Frank Hicks or Paul Gregory to-day?"</p> + +<p>"They was both in camp at noon," the trooper replied.</p> + +<p>"Huh! They were, eh?" MacRae swung up, and spoke from the saddle. "Well, +if you see them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> again, tell them we'll sure give them a hard run for +the money. And if you've got your month's pay on you, Burky, you'd +better keep your hand on it while those two pilgrims are about."</p> + +<p>We took the third horse along as a precautionary measure. At a boulder +down the ridge we left him, together with their belts, as Mac had +promised. The only bit of their property we kept besides the horses was +a pair of field-glasses—something that we knew would be priceless to +men who were practically outlawed. For the next two hours we slunk like +coyotes in coulée-bottoms and deep washouts, until we saw the commissary +wagon cross the ridge west of Lost River, saw from a safe distance the +brown specks that were riders, casting in wide circles for sight of us +or our trail.</p> + +<p>Then MacRae leaned over his saddle-horn and made a wry face at them.</p> + +<p>"Hunt, confound you," he said, almost cheerfully. "We'll give you some +hunting to do before you're through with us."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>A CLOSE CALL.</h3> + + +<p>We were standing in a brushy pocket on the side of a hill, and as there +was no immediate danger of our being seen, MacRae continued, by the aid +of the glasses, to follow the movements of our would-be captors.</p> + +<p>"D'you know that plunder can't be far away; those fellows haven't had +much time to make their <i>cache</i>," he reflected, more to himself than to +me. "I wonder how they accounted to Lessard for us. Just think of +it—somewhere within twenty miles of us there's in the neighborhood of a +hundred thousand dollars of stolen money, planted till they can get it +safely; and the men that got away with it are helping the law to run us +down. That's a new feature of the case; one, I must say, that I didn't +look for."</p> + +<p>He lowered the glasses, and regarded me soberly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They fight fire with fire in a grass country," he observed. "The +Mounted Police are a hard formation to buck against—but I've a mind to +see this thing to a finish. How do you feel about it, Sarge? Will you go +through?"</p> + +<p>"All the way and back again," I promised recklessly. I wasn't sure of +what he had in mind, but I knew <i>him</i>—and seeing that we were in the +same boat, I thought it fitting that we should sink or swim together.</p> + +<p>"We'll come out on top yet," he confidently asserted. "Meantime we'd +better locate some secluded spot and give our nags a chance to fill up +on grass and be fresh for to-morrow; we're apt to have a hard day."</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't be a bad scheme to fill ourselves at the same time," I +suggested. "I'm feeling pretty vacant inside. The first bunch of buffalo +that has a fat calf along is going to hear from me."</p> + +<p>"If we can get over this ridge without being seen, there's a canyon with +some cottonwoods and a spring in it. That will be as good a place to +hole up for<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> the night as we can find," Mac decided. "And there will +likely be some buffalo near there."</p> + +<p>So we ascended cautiously to the top of the divide, keeping in the +coulées as much as possible, for we knew that other field-glasses would +be focused on the hills. Once over the crest, we halted and watched for +riders coming our way. But none appeared. Once I thought I glimpsed a +moving speck on the farther bank of Lost River. MacRae brought the +glasses to bear, and said it was two Policemen jogging toward camp. Then +we were sure that our flight had not been observed, and we dropped into +a depression that gradually deepened to a narrow-bottomed canyon. Two +miles down this we came to the spring of which MacRae had spoken, a tiny +stream issuing from a crevice at the foot of the bank. What was equally +important, a thick clump of cottonwood and willow furnished tolerably +secure concealment.</p> + +<p>The fates smiled on us in the matter of food very shortly. I'm not +enamored of a straight meat diet as a rule, but that evening I was in no +mood to carp<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> at anything half-way eatable. While we were on our +stomachs gratefully stowing away a draught of the cool water, I heard a +buffalo bull lift his voice in challenge to another far down the canyon. +We tied our horses out of sight in the timber and stole in the direction +of the sound. A glorious bull-fight was taking place when we got within +shooting-distance, the cows and calves forming a noisy circle about the +combatants, each shaggy brown brute bawling with all the strength of +bovine lungs; in that pandemonium of bellowing and trampling I doubt if +the report of Mac's carbine could have been heard two hundred yards +away. The shot served to break up the fight and scatter the herd, +however, and we returned to the cottonwoods with the hind-quarter of a +fat calf.</p> + +<p>Hungry as we were, we could hardly bolt raw meat, so, taking it for +granted that no one was likely to ride up on us, we built a fire in the +grove, being careful to feed it with dry twigs that would make little +smoke. Over this we toasted bits of meat on the end of a splinter, and +presently our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> hunger was appeased. Then we blotted out the fire, and, +stretching ourselves on the ground, had recourse to the solace of +tobacco.</p> + +<p>The longer we laid there the more curious did I become as to what line +of action MacRae purposed to follow. He lay on his back, silent, staring +straight up at the bit of sky that showed through the branches above, +and I'd just reached the point of asking, when he sat up and forestalled +my questions.</p> + +<p>"This is going to be risky business, Sarge," he began. "But so far as I +can see, there is only one way that we can hope to get the thing +straightened out. If we can get hold of Hicks or Bevans, any one of the +four, in fact, I think we can <i>make</i> him tell us all we need to know. +It's the only chance for you and Lyn to get your money back, and for me +to square myself."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't think," I put in resentfully, "that you'd want to square +yourself, after the dirty way you've been treated. I'd as soon take to +herding sheep, or washing dirty clothes like a Chinaman, as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> be a member +of the Mounted Police if what I've seen in the last ten days is a fair +sample of what a man can expect."</p> + +<p>"Fiddlesticks!" Mac impatiently exclaimed. "You don't know what you're +talking about. I tell you a man in the Police, if he has any head at +all, can control his own destiny. You'll be a heap more sane when you +get that old, wild-west notion, that every man should be a law unto +himself, out of your head. I'll venture to say that the Northwest will +be a safer and more law-abiding place five years from now than south of +the line will be in twenty—and the men in red coats will make it so. +Why, I wouldn't miss helping tame this country for half a dozen such +scrapes as I'm in now. This is merely the result of a rotten spot in the +personnel, a rotten spot that will soon be cut out if things come about +logically; it isn't the fault of the system. There never was any great +movement in developing a new country that didn't have a quota of damned +rascals to eliminate from within itself. If you didn't have such a +perverted idea of independence,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> you'd see that I'm in no danger of +losing either my identity or my self-respect simply because I've become +a unit in a body of six hundred fighting-men. I don't intend to remain +in the insignificant-unit class."</p> + +<p>"Your intentions," I interrupted, "will cut a mighty small figure if +your friend Lessard gets hold of you in the next day or two."</p> + +<p>"That's the melancholy truth," he returned seriously. "I imagine we'd +get a pretty rough deal; in fact, I wouldn't be surprised if that troop +has received orders, by now, to shoot first and arrest afterward. Still, +I'm willing to gamble that if we rode into Fort Walsh and gave ourselves +up, it would only be a matter of a few weeks in the guardhouse for us +before the thing was cleared up."</p> + +<p>"Maybe," I responded skeptically. "If that's your belief, why don't you +act accordingly?"</p> + +<p>"Because, confound it, that's just where they want to get us," he +declared. "Once we were safely penned, they'll drift, and neither you +nor Lyn Rowan nor the government would ever lay eyes on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> that bundle of +money again. I have a theory—but what's vastly more important, I think +those fellows can hardly get out of the country with their plunder +without crossing trails with us. It was smooth business to set the dogs +on us. I don't quite <i>sabe</i>—well, I do, too. You can probably realize +just how headquarters would take the sort of yarn we'd spin if we dashed +in and told them the truth. But I think we're smart enough to upset +these fellows' calculations. Lord! wouldn't it be a stroke of business +if we could trap that collection of buccaneers? Frankly, that would be +the biggest thing that ever came my way."</p> + +<p>"It would be equally a stroke of business if they happen to trap us," I +reminded.</p> + +<p>"They won't," he asserted confidently. "We can't afford to let them. +We've inflicted a compound fracture on established law, and until we can +make the outcome justify our actions, we're compelled, in self-defense, +to avoid being caught. It may be a dubious undertaking, but as I see it +the only thing for us is to hang on the flank of these<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> man-hunters till +we can lay hold of one of that red-handed quartette. According to Burky, +two of them, at least, are in that troop. Probably the others are. And +knowing that bunch as well as I do, I don't think they'll lift the +plunder and quit the country till they can go together. Even if we can't +get hold of one of them, we can keep track of their movements, and if +they <i>do</i> lift their <i>cache</i> and pull out, why, that would be as good as +we want. I wouldn't ask anything better than to get a fair chance at +that bunch with the stolen money on them."</p> + +<p>I'll admit that, soberly considered, MacRae's plan did look exceeding +risky. No one could appreciate better than ourselves the unpleasant +possibilities that stared us in the face. But things had narrowed to a +point where only two courses were open to us—one, to throw up our hands +and quit the jurisdiction of the Mounted Police, which involved +desertion on MacRae's part, and on mine a chicken-hearted abandonment of +La Pere's trust in me (for, rightly or wrongly, I was given over to the +feeling that on me<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> alone rested the responsibility for the loss or +recovery of La Pere's money); the other, to take any measure, no matter +how desperate, that would unravel the tangle. All things considered, the +latter was the logical choice. And the plan Mac had put forth seemed as +feasible as any.</p> + +<p>"We'll have to proceed on the faro-bank formula that all bets go as they +lay," I said lightly. "There's no use anticipating things disagreeable +or otherwise; we'll simply have to take them as they come."</p> + +<p>By this time dusk was upon us. We picketed the horses in the open bottom +where grass was more plentiful than in the brush, and settled ourselves +to sleep. Fortunately, the aftermath of that blistering day was a fairly +warm night. By spreading over us the heavy woolen blankets the Mounted +Police use under their saddles, we slept in comfort. Long before dawn, +however, we arose, built a fire, and breakfasted on buffalo veal, at the +same time broiling a good supply and stowing it in our pockets to serve +the rest of the day. Then, with darkness still obscuring our movements, +we saddled and rode over<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> the ridge and down into Lost River, crossing +that ancient waterway before the first glimmer of light in the east.</p> + +<p>Day found us dismounted in the head of a coulée where we could spy on +the Police camp from a distance of three miles, more or less. About +sunrise the troop left camp in a body, later spreading fanwise over the +prairies. Once a party trotted by within a half-mile of us, but no one +of the four men we wanted to see was in the squad.</p> + +<p>Until after the noon hour we laid <i>perdu</i> in the hollow, no wiser for +our watching. Then I saw a number of riders debouch from the camp, and +at once trained the glasses on them. At first I couldn't distinguish any +particular face among so many shifting forms, but presently they split +in two bodies, and these again subdivided; and in the bunch coming +toward us I recognized three men, Lessard, unmistakable in his black +uniform, Hicks, and Bevans. I turned the glasses over to MacRae then.</p> + +<p>"I thought probably some more of our friends would show up," he said, +after a quick survey.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> "With those two in sight the chances are that all +four are with the troop. The other fellows in that squad are just plain +buck Policemen. Confound them, I wish——Aha, by Jupiter! the big chief +is turning off those two."</p> + +<p>As Mac spoke I saw the two men I had spotted as Hicks and Bevans swing +away from the rest and angle toward Lost River. From our vantage point +we watched them come abreast and pass us at a distance well within a +mile. The others turned south, directly away from us.</p> + +<p>"Now," Mac coolly declared, "here's where we get the chance we want, if +we're lucky. We'll keep parallel with these gentlemen, and if they get +out of touch with the rest we'll make a try at nailing them. Be careful, +though, how you show yourself; there's at least fifty of these +peacemakers within four or five miles, and a shot or a yell will bring +them on a high run."</p> + +<p>Hicks and Bevans, whatever their destination, were in no haste. They +rode at a walk most of the time, and we were forced to keep the same +pace.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> It was slow work poking along those coulée-bottoms, now and then +making a risky sneak to ground, whence we could get a clear view of the +game we were stalking so assiduously.</p> + +<p>Progressing in this manner we finally reached the breaks that ran down +to Lost River, not a great distance from where MacRae and I had kicked +over the traces of legally constituted authority the previous day. Here +we had to dodge over a stretch of ground barren of concealment, and to +do so waited till such time as Hicks and Bevans were themselves in the +depths of a coulée.</p> + +<p>When next we caught sight of our men—well, to be exact, we saw only +one, and that was Bevans. He had stopped his horse on top of a knoll not +more than four hundred yards to the north of us, and was standing up in +his stirrups staring over the ears of his horse at a point down the +slope. Hicks had disappeared. Nor did we see aught of him during the +next few minutes that we spent glaring at Bevans and the surrounding +territory.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if that square-jawed devil has got a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> glimpse of us and is +trying a lone-handed stalk himself?" I hazarded.</p> + +<p>MacRae shook his head. "Not likely," he said. "If it was Paul Gregory, +now, that's the very thing he'd do. I don't quite <i>sabe</i> this +performance."</p> + +<p>We watched for sign of Hicks, but without result. Then Bevans got under +way and moved along at the same poky gait as before. When he had gone +some distance we took to the hollow. Twenty minutes jogging brought us +into a stretch of rough country, a series of knobs and ridges cut by +innumerable coulées. Here it became necessary to locate Mr. Bevans +again. Once more he was revealed on top of an elevation, studying the +surrounding landscape, and he was still alone.</p> + +<p>"Where the mischief can Hicks have got to?" Mac growled. "We really +ought to smell him out before we do anything."</p> + +<p>"Look, now," I said. "Don't you suppose Bevans is waiting for him?"</p> + +<p>Bevans had dismounted and stretched himself on the ground in the shade +of his horse. But he was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> not napping; on the contrary, he was very much +on the alert, for his head turned slowly from side to side, quiescent as +he seemed; there would be little movement pass unobserved within range +of that pair of eyes.</p> + +<p>"Maybe he is," MacRae replied. "Anyhow, I think we'd better wait a while +ourselves."</p> + +<p>For nearly an hour Bevans kept his position. Hicks, if he were in the +vicinity, kept closely under cover. Bevans had all the best of the +situation, so far as being able to keep a lookout was a factor; the +opposite bank of the coulée we were in towered high above us, and shut +off our view in that direction. And we didn't dare risk showing +ourselves on high ground. Finally, after what seemed an interminable +period of waiting, Mac's patience frazzled out and he declared for +action.</p> + +<p>"We're doing no good here," he said. "Hicks or no Hicks, I'm going to +have a try at making connections with his nibs on that hill. I think the +coulée right under his perch is an arm of the one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> we're in; runs in +somewhere below. Maybe we can get to him that way. It's worth trying."</p> + +<p>As MacRae had surmised, our canyon forked below. We turned the point +after making sure that Bevans couldn't see us unless he moved. But the +uncertain beggar had moved, and moved to some purpose we quickly +learned; for when we next laid eyes on him he was out on the extreme +point of the little bench, opposite the mouth of the coulée we had +ascended, whirling his horse about in cramped circles. And in answer to +his signaling a full score of red-jacketed riders were galloping down +the ridges, a human comb that bade fair to rake us from our concealment +in a scant number of minutes.</p> + +<p>"Looks bad for you and me, old boy," MacRae grinned. "I see now what +brother Hicks has been up to. But they haven't got us yet. Whatever +happens, Sarge, don't get excited and go to shooting. We can't win out +that way, against this combination. If we can't dodge and outrun them +we'll have to take our medicine. Down the coulée is our only chance. +There's only Bevans to stop us; and it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> won't really matter if we do put +his light out—be one thief less at the finish."</p> + +<p>Bevans, however, made no demonstration. We just got a mere glimpse of +him, and I imagine he was nowise anxious to try heading us off, which he +could not do without coming into the open. Whipping around the crooked +bends at top speed, he had little chance to pot us, and I think he had +an idea that we would cheerfully pot him if he got in the way.</p> + +<p>We mystified them somewhat, and gained considerable ground, by that +sudden dash, but it wasn't long before they were in full cry like a pack +of hounds, and the carbines began to pop in a futile sort of way. Mac +had not been far astray when he hazarded the guess that the troop would +have orders to shoot on sight, for they began to peck at us the moment +we came in view. We had just enough of a start, though, and our mounts +were just good enough and fresh enough to gradually draw away from them. +And as we were then out of the network of protecting coulées and +pattering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> over the comparative level of Lost River bottoms, I was very +glad that we were beyond carbine-range and that it was near sundown.</p> + +<p>"Barring accidents, they can't get up on us now," Mac declared. "So I +think it'll be wise to keep south along the open bottoms. If they see us +splitting the breeze down Lost River, they won't look for us to bob up +from the opposite quarter to-morrow. When it gets dark and we're far +enough ahead, we can swing into the hills. That'll fool them plenty for +to-night. They'll probably try tracking us to-morrow, but I reckon +they'll find that a tough job."</p> + +<p>They kept persistently after us, and we were more or less on the anxious +seat, till it did get dark. Then we turned sharp to the left and gained +high ground once more, congratulating ourselves on so easily getting out +of a ticklish place. If we hadn't moved up on Bevans they might have +surrounded us before we got wind of them. But we'd beaten them fairly, +and so we looked back through the dark and laughed; though I'm sure we +had no particular cause for merriment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>PIEGAN TAKES A HAND.</h3> + + +<p>I don't believe a detailed account of how we spent that night would be +classed as wildly interesting; if memory serves me right, it was a +bleak, hungry, comfortless passage of time, and I am willing to let it +go at that. We managed to secure a buffalo steak for breakfast. No man +needed to starve in that country during those days of plentiful game; +but we were handicapped by the necessity of doing our hunting in a very +surreptitious manner. However, we didn't starve; the worst we +experienced was an occasional period of acute hunger, when we didn't +dare fire a shot for fear of revealing our whereabouts.</p> + +<p>Nor can I see, now, where we accomplished anything beyond killing time +the following day. To be sure, we scouted faithfully, and once or twice +came perilously near being caught by squads of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> Mounted Police appearing +from unexpected quarters. Our scouting was so much wasted energy. We got +nowhere near the Police camp; we failed to get a glimpse of any of our +men; and so, for all we knew to the contrary, they might have loaded the +plunder and decamped for other regions. When night again spread its +concealing folds about us, we had only one tangible fact as a reward for +our exertions—Lessard had returned to Fort Walsh—presumably. Early +that morning, escorted by four troopers, he had crossed Lost River and +disappeared in the direction of the post. Of his identity the +field-glasses assured us. But that was the sum total of our acquired +knowledge, and it brought us no nearer the breaking up of the +Goodell-Gregory combination or the recovery of the loot.</p> + +<p>So for a third night we were compelled to seek sanctuary in the silent +canyons. And the third day brought us no better luck. At evening we were +constrained to admit that we were simply butting our heads against a +wall—with an ever-present possibility of the wall toppling over and +crushing us flat.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> + +<p>Altogether, we spent five consecutive days hovering around that +collection of law-enforcers, in imminent risk of capture. Each night in +the open was more cheerless than the preceding one, and each day brought +the same sense of futile effort at its close. Twice during that time the +Police camp moved, and we had to be wary, for they scoured the +surrounding territory with painstaking thoroughness. But we felt that +there was yet a chance for us to turn the tables, for Goodell was still +with the troop, and also Gregory; we saw them both the morning of the +fifth day.</p> + +<p>"It beats me why they're pecking around over the same ground so much," +Mac observed. "I suppose they're looking for us, but I'm pretty sure +they haven't had a glimpse of us for three days, and so I don't see why +they should think we're still hanging around. Logically, if we'd got +that bunch of money, we'd be getting out of the country. Lord, I do wish +those four would show their hand—make a move of some kind."</p> + +<p>"So do I," I seconded. "We're not doing much<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> good that I can see. And I +think I could play the game with a heap more enthusiasm if I had some +coffee and white bread under my belt once or twice a day. We'll go +hungry, and likewise get a devilish good soaking to-night, or I'm badly +mistaken."</p> + +<p>We had checked our horses on the summit of the divide that ran down to +Lost River on one side and on the other sloped away to the southeast. +The wind that was merely a breath at sundown had gathered strength to +itself and now swept across the hill-tops with a resonant roar, piling +layer on layer of murky low-flying clouds into a dense mass overhead. +Night, black as the bottomless pit, walled us in. A fifty-mile breeze +lashed us spitefully, tugging at our shirt-sleeves and drowning our +voices, while we halted on that pinnacle. By the dank breath of the +wind, the ominous overcasting of the sky, all the little signs that a +prairie-wise man learns to read, we knew that a storm was close at hand. +Shelter there was none, nor food, and we stood in need of both.</p> + +<p>"You're right," MacRae admitted. "But how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> are we going to help it? +We'll just have to grin and tough it out."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you how we'll help it," I proposed recklessly, shouting to +make myself heard above the noisy wind. "We can go down and tackle that +bull-train we saw pulling along the foot of the ridge. They'll know +we're on the dodge, but that won't make any difference to them. I know +nearly every bull-whacker that freights out of Benton, and they're a +pretty white bunch. If it's Baker's outfit, especially, we'll be welcome +as flowers in May. You said they'd likely camp at that spring—Ten Mile, +isn't it? What d'ye think? Shall we go down and take a chance? I sure +don't like the look of things up here. It's going to be a rip-snorter of +a night, once it cuts loose."</p> + +<p>"I'm ready to go against nearly anything, right now," MacRae frankly +owned. "If you think it's worth trying, why, it's a go with me."</p> + +<p>"Let's drift, then," I declared; and straightway we turned our horses +broadside to the wind and tore away for Ten Mile Spring and the +creature<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> comforts I knew were to be had at the white-sheeted wagons we +saw crawling slowly along the Stony Crossing trail late that afternoon.</p> + +<p>As Mac had calculated, the freight-train was camped at the Spring; and +it was a mighty good thing for us that MacRae knew that country so well +or we would never have found them, short of riding our horses to a +standstill. Long before we got there the deep-throated thunder was +growling over us, and the clouds spat occasional flurries of rain.</p> + +<p>We made the freight camp, however, just as the storm cut loose in deadly +earnest. Luckily for me, it was Baker's outfit. I took a long chance, +and stalked boldly in. And here I was treated to a surprise, one that +afforded both MacRae and me considerable food for thought; Horner, the +wagon-boss, a man I knew well, frankly declared that no one at Fort +Walsh had heard that we were accused of robbery and murder. For that +matter, he said, he didn't care a tinker's dam if we were; he had grub +and bedding and we were welcome to both.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p> + +<p>So with this assurance of good-will we picketed our horses close by the +circle of wagons—where we could get to them quickly should any of +Lessard's troop happen into the camp—and prepared to devour the supper +Horner's good-natured cook bestirred himself to make ready. As we filled +our plates and squatted under the canvas that sheltered the cook's +Dutch-oven layout, a man under the hind end of the chuck-wagon propped +himself on elbow and shouted greeting to us. In the semi-dark I couldn't +see his face, but I recognized the voice. It was our friend of the +whisky-keg episode, Piegan Smith.</p> + +<p>"Hello, thar, fellers!" he bellowed (Piegan always spoke to a man as if +he were a hundred yards away). "Say, Flood, yuh ain't been t' Benton an' +back already, have yuh?"</p> + +<p>"Faith, no," I owned, between mouthfuls, "and it's hard telling when I +will get there. How come you to be pacing along this trail, Piegan? Gone +to freighting in your old age?"</p> + +<p>"Not what yuh could notice, I ain't," he snorted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> "Catch <i>me</i> whackin' +bulls for a livin'! Naw, I sold my outfit to a goggle-eyed pilgrim that +has an idea buffalo hides is prime all summer. So I'm headed for Benton +to see if I kain't stir up a little excitement now an' then, to pass +away the time till the fall buffalo-run begins."</p> + +<p>"If you're looking for excitement, Piegan," MacRae put in dryly, "you'd +better come along with us. We'll introduce you to more different brands +of it in the next few days than Benton could furnish in six months."</p> + +<p>"Maybe," Piegan laughed. "But not the brand I'm a-thirstin' for."</p> + +<p>Mac was on the point of replying when there came a most unexpected +interruption. I looked up at sound of a startled exclamation, and beheld +the round African physog of Lyn Rowan's colored mammy. But she had no +eyes for me; she stood like a black statue just within the firelight, a +tin bucket in one hand, staring over my head at MacRae.</p> + +<p>"Lawd a-me!" she gulped out. "Ef Ah ain't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> sho'ly laid mah ol' eyes on +Marse Go'don. Is dat sho' 'nuf yo', wid yo' red coat an' all?"</p> + +<p>"It sure is, Mammy," Mac answered. "How does it happen you're traveling +this way? I thought you were at Fort Walsh. Is Miss Lyn along?"</p> + +<p>"She suttinly am," Mammy Thomas emphatically asserted. "Yo' doan catch +dis chile a-mosyin' obeh dese yeah plains by huh lonesome. Since dey +done brought Miss Lyn's paw in an' planted him, she say dey ain't no use +foh huh to stay in dis yeah redcoat country no longer; so we all packed +up an' sta'ted back foh de lan' ob de free."</p> + +<p>MacRae, I am sure, was no more than half through his meal. But he +swallowed the coffee in his cup, and tossed his eating-implements into +the cook's wash-pan.</p> + +<p>"I'll go with you, Mammy," he told her. "I want to see Miss Lyn myself."</p> + +<p>"Jes' a minute, Marse Go'don," she said. "Ah's got to git some wa'm +watah f'om dis yeah Mr. Cook."</p> + +<p>The cook signaled her to help herself from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> kettle that bubbled over +the fire, and she filled her bucket and disappeared, chattering volubly, +MacRae at her heels.</p> + +<p>I finished my supper more deliberately. There was no occasion for me to +gobble my food and rush off to talk with Lyn Rowan. MacRae, I suspected, +would be inclined to monopolize her for the rest of the evening. So I +ate leisurely, and when done crawled under the wagon beside Piegan Smith +and gave myself up to cigarettes and meditation, while over his pipe +Piegan expressed a most unflattering opinion of the weather.</p> + +<p>It was a dirty night, beyond question; one that gave color to Piegan's +prophesy that Milk River would be out of its banks if the storm held +till morning, and that Baker's freight-train would be stalled by mud and +high water for three or four days. I was duly thankful for the shelter +we had found. A tarpaulin stretched from wheel to wheel of the wagon +shut out the driving rain that fled in sheets before the whooping wind. +The lightning-play was hidden behind the drifting cloud-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>bank, for no +glint of it penetrated the gloom; but the cavernous thunder-bellow +roared intermittently, and a fury of rain drove slantwise against sodden +earth and creaking wagon-tops.</p> + +<p>If the next two hours were as slow in passing, to MacRae and Lyn, as +they seemed to me, the two of them had time to dissect and discuss the +hopes and fears and errors of their whole existence, and formulate a new +philosophy of life. Piegan broke a long silence to remark sagely that if +Mac was putting in all this time talking to that "yaller-headed fairy," +he was a plumb good stayer.</p> + +<p>"They're old friends," I told him. "Mac knew her long ago; and all her +people."</p> + +<p>"Well, he's in darned agreeable company," Piegan observed. "She's a +mighty fine little woman, far's I've seen. I dunno's I'd know when t' +jar loose m'self, if I knowed her an' she didn't object t' me hangin' +around. But seein' we ain't in on the reception, we might as well get +under the covers, eh? I reckon most everybody in camp's turned in."</p> + +<p>Piegan had a bulky roll of bedding under the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> wagon. Spread to its full +width, it was ample for three ordinary men. We had just got out of our +outside garments and were snuggling down between the blankets when Mac +came slopping through the puddles that were now gathering in every +depression. He crawled under the wagon, shed some of his clothing, and +got into bed with us. But he didn't lie down until he had rolled a +cigarette, and then instead of going to sleep he began talking to +Piegan, asking what seemed to me a lot of rather trifling questions. I +was nearly worn out, and their conversation was nowise interesting to +me, so listening to the monotonous drone of their voices and the steady +beat of falling rain, I went to sleep.</p> + +<p>Before a great while I wakened; to speak truthfully, the ungentle voice +of Piegan Smith brought me out of dreamland with a guilty start. MacRae +was still sitting up in bed, and from that part of his speech which +filtered into my ears I gathered that he was recounting to Piegan the +tale of our adventures during the past week. I thought that odd, for Mac +was a close-mouthed beggar as a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> general thing; but there was no valid +reason why he should not proclaim the story from the hill-tops if he +chose, so I rolled over and pulled the blankets above my head—to +protect my ear-drums if Piegan's astonishment should again find verbal +expression.</p> + +<p>The cook's battle-cry of "Grub <i>pi-i-ile</i>" wakened me next. A thin line +of yellowish-red in the east betokened the birth of another day, a day +born in elemental turmoil, for the fierce wind was no whit abated, nor +the sullen, driving rain.</p> + +<p>"I've enlisted a recruit," MacRae told me in an undertone, as we ate +breakfast. "It struck me that if we had somebody along that we could +trust to ride into that Police camp with his mouth shut and his ears and +eyes open, we might find out something that would show us how the land +lay; even if he accomplished nothing else, he could learn if those +fellows are still with the troop."</p> + +<p>"That was why you were making that talk to Piegan last night, was it?" I +said. "Well, from what little I've seen and heard of him, he'd be a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +whole team if he's willing to throw in with us and take a chance." Which +was perfectly true. Old Piegan had the reputation, on both sides of the +line, of loving to jump into a one-sided fight for the pure joy of +evening up the odds. He was a boisterous, rough-spoken mortal, but his +heart was big, and set in the right place. And, though I didn't know it +then, he had a grouch against Hicks, who had once upon a time run him +into Fort Walsh in irons on an unjustified suspicion of whisky-running. +That was really what started Piegan in the smuggling business—a desire +to play even, after getting what he called a "damn rough deal."</p> + +<p>"He's willing enough," Mac assured me. "Aside from the fact that most +any white man would go out of his way to help a girl like Lyn Rowan, +there's the certainty that the Canadian government will be pretty +generous to anybody who helps round up that crooked bunch and restore +the stolen money. Piegan snorted when I told him we were on the +dodge—that they were trying to nail us for holding up the paymaster. +That's the rottenest part of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> whole thing. I think—but then we've +got to do more than think to get ourselves out of this jackpot."</p> + +<p>He stopped abruptly, and went on with his breakfast. By the time we were +done eating, the gray light of a bedraggled morning revealed tiny lakes +in every hollow, and each coulée and washout was a miniature torrent of +muddy water—with a promise of more to come in the murky cloud-drift +that overcast the sky. Horner sent out two men to relieve the +night-herders, remarked philosophically "More rain, more rest," and +retired to the shelter of the cook's canvas. His drivers sought cover in +and under the wagons, where they had spent the night. But though mud and +swollen streams might hold back the cumbrous freight outfit, it did not +follow that heavy going would delay the flitting of the thieves, if they +planned such a move; nor would it prevent the Mounted Police from +descending on the Baker outfit if they thought we had taken refuge +there. So we held council of war<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> with Piegan, after which we saddled up +and made ready to tackle the soaked prairies.</p> + +<p>While we were packing grub and bedding on Piegan's extra horse, Lyn +joined us, wrapped from head to heel in a yellow slicker. And by the way +Mac greeted her I knew that they had bridged that gap of five years to +their mutual satisfaction; that she was loath to see him set out on a +hazardous mission she presently made plain.</p> + +<p>"Let it go, Gordon," she begged. "There's been too much blood shed over +that wretched gold already. Let them have it. I know something dreadful +will happen if you follow it up."</p> + +<p>MacRae smiled and shook his head stubbornly. "I'm too deep in, little +woman, to quit now," he told her patiently. "If it was only a matter of +your money, we could get along without it. But Sarge stands to lose a +lot, if we give up at this stage of the game. And besides, I'd always be +more or less on the dodge if this thing isn't cleared up. I've got to +see it through. You wouldn't have me sneak out of this country like a +whipped pup, would you? There's too big an account to settle with those fellows, Lyn; it's up to +us, if we're men. I can't draw back now, till it's settled for good and +all, one way or the other."</p> + +<p><a name="bloodshed" id="bloodshed"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img03.jpg" alt="TOO MUCH BLOOD SHED" title="TOO MUCH BLOOD SHED" /></div> +<h4>"THERE'S BEEN TOO MUCH BLOOD SHED OVER THAT WRETCHED GOLD<br /> +ALREADY. LET THEM HAVE IT."<br /><a href='#Page_212'><i>Page 212.</i></a></h4> + + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + + +<p>"Oh, I know how you feel about it," she sighed. "But even if it comes +out all right, you're still tied here. You know they won't let you go."</p> + +<p>"Don't you worry about that," he comforted. "I'll cross that bridge fast +enough when I come to it. You go on to Benton, like a good girl. I feel +it in my bones that we're going to have better luck from now on. And if +we do, you'll see us ride down the Benton hill one of these fine +mornings. Anyway, I'll send you word by Piegan before long."</p> + +<p>Piegan was already mounted, watching us whimsically from under the +dripping brim of his hat. I shook hands with Lyn, and swung into my +saddle. And when Mac had kissed her, we crowded through a gap in the +circle of wagons, waved a last good-by, and rode away in the steadily +falling rain.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<h3>IN THE CAMP OF THE ENEMY.</h3> + + +<p>From then until near noon we worked our passage if ever men did. On the +high benches it was not so bad for the springy, porous turf soaked up +the excessive moisture and held its firmness tolerably well. But every +bank of any steepness meant a helter-skelter slide to its foot, with +either a bog-hole or swimming water when we got there, and getting up +the opposite hill was like climbing a greased pole—except that there +was no purse at the top to reward our perseverance. Between the +succeeding tablelands lay gumbo flats where the saturated clay hung to +the feet of our horses like so much glue, or opened under hoof-pressure +and swallowed them to the knees. So that our going was slow and +wearisome.</p> + +<p>About mid-day the storm gradually changed from unceasing downpour to +squally outbursts, followed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> by banks of impenetrable fog that would +shut down on us solidly for a few minutes, then vanish like the good +intentions of yesterday; the wind switched a few points and settled to a +steady gale which lashed the spent clouds into hurrying ships of the +air, scudding full-sail before the droning breeze. Before long little +patches of blue began to peep warily through narrow spaces above. The +wind-blown rain-makers lost their leaden hue and became a soft +pearl-gray, all fleecy white around the edges. Then bars of warm +sunshine poured through the widening rifts and the whole rain-washed +land lay around us like a great checker-board whereon black +cloud-shadows chased each other madly over prairies yellow with the hot +August sun and gray-green in the hollows where the grass took on a new +lease of life.</p> + +<p>That night we camped west of Lost River, lying prudently in a +brush-grown coulée, for we were within sight of the Police camp—by +grace of the field-glasses. At sundown the ground had dried to such a +degree that a horse could lift foot without raising with it an abnormal +portion of the North<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>west. The wind veered still farther to the south, +blowing strong and warm, sucking greedily the surplus moisture from the +saturated earth. So we resolved ourselves into a committee of ways and +means and decided that since the footing promised to be normal in the +morning the troop would likely scatter out, might even move camp, and +therefore it behooved us to get in touch with them at once; accordingly +Piegan rode away to spend the night in the Police tents, with a tale of +horses strayed from Baker's outfit to account for his wandering. From +our nook in the ridge he could easily make it by riding a little after +dark.</p> + +<p>"Goodell and Gregory and Hicks you know," said MacRae. "Bevans is a +second edition of Hicks, only not so tall by two or three inches—a +square-shouldered, good-looking brute, with light hair and steel-gray +eyes and a short brown mustache. He has an ugly scar—a +knife-cut—across the back of one hand; you can't mistake him if you get +sight of him. Stick around the camp in the morning if you can manage it, +till they start, and notice which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> way all those fellows go. The sooner +we get our hands on one or more of them the better we'll be able to get +at the bottom of this; I reckon we could find a way to make him talk. Of +course, if anything out of the ordinary comes up you'll have to use your +own judgment; you know just as much as we do, now. And we'll wait here +for you unless they jump us up. In that case we'll try and round up +somewhere between here and Ten Mile."</p> + +<p>"Right yuh are, old-timer," Piegan responded. "I'll do the best I can. +Yuh want t' keep your eye glued t' that peep-glass in the mornin', and +not overlook no motions. Yuh kain't tell what might come up. So-long!" +And away he went.</p> + +<p>When he was gone from sight we built a tiny fire in the scrub—for it +was twilight, at which time keen eyes are needed to detect either smoke +or fire, except at close range—and cooked our supper. That done, we +smothered what few embers remained and laid us down to sleep. That +wasn't much of a success, however. We had got into action again, with +more of a chance to bring about certain desired<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> results, and inevitably +we laid awake reckoning up the chances for and against a happy +conclusion to our little expedition.</p> + +<p>"It's a wonder," I said, as the thought occurred to me, "that Lyn quit +Walsh so soon. Why didn't she stay a while longer and see if these +famous preservers of the peace wouldn't manage to gather in the men who +killed her father? Why, hang it! she didn't even wait to see if you +found that stuff at the Stone—and Lessard must have told her that +somebody had gone to look for it."</p> + +<p>Mac snapped out an oath in the dark. "Lessard simply lost his head," he +growled. "Damn him! He told her that he had sent us to look for it, and +that we had taken advantage of the opportunity to rob the paymaster. Oh, +he painted us good and black, I tell you. Then he had the nerve to ask +her to marry him. And he was so infernally insistent about it, that she +was forced to pull up and get away from the post in self-defense. That's +why she left so suddenly."</p> + +<p>Well, I couldn't find it in my heart to blame<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> Lessard for that last, so +long as he acted the gentleman about it. In fact, it was to be expected +of almost any man who happened to be thrown in contact with Lyn Rowan +for any length of time. I can't honestly lay claim to being absolutely +immune myself; only my attack had come years earlier, and had not been +virulent enough to make me indulge in any false hopes. It's no crime for +an unattached man to care for a woman; but naturally, MacRae would be +prejudiced against any one who laid siege to a castle he had marked for +his own. I had disliked that big, autocratic major, too, from our first +meeting, but it was pure instinctive antipathy on my part, sharpened, +perhaps, by his outrageous treatment of MacRae.</p> + +<p>We dropped the subject forthwith. Lessard's relation to the problem was +a subject we had so far shied around. It was beside the point to indulge +in footless theory. We knew beyond a doubt who were the active agents in +every blow that had been struck, and the first move in the tangle we +sought to unravel was to lay hands on them, violently if neces<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>sary, and +through them recover the stolen money. Only by having that in our +possession—so MacRae argued—could we hope to gain credible hearing, +and when that was accomplished whatever part Lessard had played would +develop of itself.</p> + +<p>By and by, my brain wearied with fruitless speculation, I began to doze, +and from then till daylight I slept in five-minute snatches.</p> + +<p>Dawn brought an access of caution, and we forbore building a fire. Our +horses, which we had picketed in the open overnight, we saddled and tied +out of sight in the brush. Then we ate a cold breakfast and betook +ourselves to the nearest hill-top, where, screened by a huddle of rocks, +we could watch for the coming of Piegan Smith; and, incidentally, keep +an eye on the redcoat camp, though the distance was too great to observe +their movements with any degree of certainty. The most important thing +was to avoid letting a bunch of them ride up on us unheralded.</p> + +<p>"They're not setting the earth afire looking for anybody," Mac declared, +when the sun was well<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> started on its ante-meridian journey and there +was still no sign of riders leaving the cluster of tents. "Ah, there +they go."</p> + +<p>A squad of mounted men in close formation, so that their scarlet jackets +stood out against the dun prairie like a flame in the dark, rode away +from the camp, halted on the first hill an instant, then scattered +north, south, and west. After that there was no visible stir around the +white-sheeted commissary.</p> + +<p>"They're not apt to disturb us if they keep going the opposite +direction," Mac reflected, his eyes conning them through the glasses. +"And neither do they appear to be going to move camp. Therefore, we'll +be likely to see Piegan before long."</p> + +<p>But it was some time ere we laid eyes on that gentleman. We didn't see +him leaving the camp—which occasioned us no uneasiness, because a lone +rider could very well get away from there unseen by us, especially if he +was circumspect in his choice of routes, as Piegan would probably be. +Only when two hours had dragged by, and then two more, did we begin to +get anxious. I was lying on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> my back, staring up at the sky, all sorts +of possible misfortune looming large on my mental horizon, when MacRae, +sweeping the hills with the glasses, grunted satisfaction, and I turned +my head in time to see Piegan appear momentarily on high ground a mile +to the south of us.</p> + +<p>"What's he doing off there?" I wondered. "Do you suppose somebody's +following him, that he thinks it necessary to ride clear around us?"</p> + +<p>"Hardly; but you can gamble that he isn't riding for his health," Mac +responded. "Anyway, you'll soon know; he's turning."</p> + +<p>Piegan swung into the coulée at a fast lope, and we stole carefully down +to meet him. In the brush that concealed our horses Piegan dismounted, +and, seating himself tailor-fashion on the ground, began to fill his +pipe.</p> + +<p>"First thing," said he, "we're a little behind the times. Your birds has +took wing and flew the coop."</p> + +<p>"Took wing—how? And when?" we demanded.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You'll <i>sabe</i> better, I reckon, if I tell yuh just how I made out," +Piegan answered, after a pause to light his pipe. "When I got there last +night they was most all asleep. But this mornin' I got a chance to size +up the whole bunch, and nary one uh them jaspers I wanted t' see was in +sight. So whilst we was eatin' breakfast I begins t' quiz, an', one way +an' another, lets on I wanted t' see that Injun scout. One feller up an' +tells me he guess I'll find the breed at Fort Walsh, most likely. After +a while I hears more talk, an' by askin' a few innocent questions I gets +next t' some more. Puttin' this an' that together, this here's the way +she stacks up: Lessard, as you fellers took notice, went in t' Walsh, +takin' several men with him, Gregory bein' among the lot. He leaves +orders that these fellers behind are t' comb the country till he calls +'em off. Yesterday mornin', in the thick uh the storm, a buck trooper +arrives from Walsh, bearin' instructions for Goodell, Hicks an' another +feller, which I reckon is Bevans. So when she clears up a little along +towards noon, these three takes a packadero layout an' starts,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +presumable for Medicine Lodge. An' that's all I found out from the +Policemen."</p> + +<p>"Scattered them around the country, eh?" Mac commented. "Damn it, we're +just as far behind as ever."</p> + +<p>"Hold your hosses a minute," Piegan grinned knowingly. "I said that was +all I found out from the red jackets—but I did a little prognosticatin' +on my own hook. I figured that if them fellers hit the trail yesterday +afternoon as soon as the storm let up, they'd make one hell of a good +plain track in this sloppy goin' an' I was curious t' see if they lit +straight for the Lodge. So when the bunch got out quite a ways, I quits +the camp an' swings round in a wide circle—an' sure enough they'd left +their mark. Three riders an' two pack-hosses. Easy trackin'? Well, I +should say! They'd cut a trail in them doby flats like a bunch uh +gallopin' buffalo. Say, where <i>is</i> Medicine Lodge?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, break away, Piegan," Mac impatiently exclaimed. "What are you +trying to get at? You know where the Lodge is as well as I do."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, I always thought I knowed where 'twas," Piegan retorted +spiritedly, a wicked twinkle in his shrewd old eyes. "But it must 'a' +changed location lately, for them fellers rode north a ways, an' then +kept swingin' round till they was headin' due southeast. I follered +their trail t' where yuh seen me turn this way, if yuh was watchin'. +Poor devils"—Piegan grinned covertly while voicing this mock +sympathy—"they must 'a' got lost, I reckon. It really ain't safe for +such pilgrims t' be cavortin' over the prairies with all that boodle in +their jeans. I reckon we'll just naturally have t' pike along after 'em +an' take care of it ourselves. They ain't got such a rip-roarin' start +of us—an' I'm the boy can foller that track from hell t' breakfast an' +back again. So let's eat a bite, an' then straddle our <i>caballos</i> for +some tall ridin'."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<h3>A MASTER-STROKE OF VILLAINY.</h3> + + +<p>Piegan shortly proved that he made no vain boast when he asserted his +ability to follow their track. A lifetime on the plains, and a natural +fitness for the life, had made him own brother to the Indian in the +matter of nosing out dim trails. The crushing of a tuft of grass, a +broken twig, all the half-hidden signs that the feet of horses and men +leave behind, held a message for him; nothing, however slight, escaped +his eagle eye. And he did it subconsciously, without perceptible effort. +The surpassing skill of his tracking did not strike me forcibly at +first, for I can read an open trail as well as the average cowman, and +the mark of their passing lay plain before us; the veriest pilgrim, new +come from graded roads and fenced pastures, could have counted the +number of their steps—each hoof had stamped its impression in the soft<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +loam as clearly as a steel die-cut in soaked leather. But that was where +they had ridden while the land was still plastic from the rain. Farther, +wind and sun had dried the ridge-turf to its normal firmness and baked +the dobe flats till in places they were of their old flinty hardness. +Yet Piegan crossed at a lope places where neither MacRae nor I could +glimpse a sign—and when we would come again to soft ground the trail of +the three would rise up to confront us, and bid us marvel at the +keenness of his vision. He had a gift that we lacked.</p> + +<p>We followed in the wake of Piegan Smith with what speed the +coulée-gashed prairie permitted, and about three o'clock halted for half +an hour to let our horses graze; we had been riding steadily over four +hours, and it behooved us to have some thought for our mounts. Within +ten minutes of starting again we dipped into a wide-bottomed coulée and +came on the place where the three had made their first night-camp—a +patch of dead ashes, a few half-burned sticks, and the close-cropped +grass-plots where each horse had circled a picket-pin.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> + +<p>Beyond these obvious signs, there was nothing to see. Nothing, at least, +that I could see except faint tracks leading away from the spot. These +we had followed but a short distance when Piegan, who was scrutinizing +the ground with more care than he had before shown, pulled up with an +exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Blamed if they ain't got company, from the look uh things," he grunted, +squinting down. "I thought that was considerable of a trail for them t' +make. You fellers wait here a minute. I want t' find out which way them +tracks come in."</p> + +<p>He loped back, swinging in north of the campground. While he was gone, +MacRae and I leaned over in our saddles and scanned closely the +grass-carpeted bottom-land. That the hoofs of passing horses had pressed +down the rank growth of grass was plain enough, but whether the hoofs of +six or a dozen we could only guess. Piegan turned, rode to where they +had built their fire, circled the place, then came back to us.</p> + +<p>"All right," he said. "I was sure there was more livestock left that +campin'-place than we followed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> in. They come from the north—four +hosses, two uh them rode an' the other two led, I think, from the way +they heaved around a-crossin' a washout back yonder."</p> + +<p>A mile or so farther we crossed a bare sandy stretch on the flat bottom +of another coulée, and on its receptive surface the trail lay like a +printed page—nine distinct, separate horse-tracks.</p> + +<p>"Five riders an' four extra hosses, if I ain't read the sign wrong," +Piegan casually remarked. "Say, we'll have our hands full if we bump +into this bunch unexpected, eh?"</p> + +<p>"They'll make short work of us if they get half a chance," Mac agreed. +"But we'll make it a surprise party if we can."</p> + +<p>From there on Piegan set a pace that taxed our horses' mettle—that was +one consolation—we were well mounted. All three of us were good for a +straightaway chase of a hundred miles if it came to a showdown. Piegan +knew that we must do our trailing in daylight, and rode accordingly. He +kept their trail with little effort, head cocked on one side<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> like a +saucy meadowlark, and whistled snatches of "Hell Among the Yearlin's," +as though the prospect of a sanguinary brush with thieves was pleasing +in the extreme.</p> + +<p>The afternoon was on its last lap when we came in sight of Stony +Crossing. The trail we followed wound along the crest of a ridge midway +between the Crossing and Ten Mile Spring, where we had left Baker's +outfit that rainy morning. The freighters had moved camp, but the mud +and high water had held them, for we could see the white-sheeted wagons +and a blur of cattle by the cottonwood grove where Hank Rowan had made +his last stand. Presently we crossed the trail made by the string of +wagons; it was fresh; made that morning, I judged. A little farther, on +a line between the Crossing and the Spring, Piegan pulled up again, and +this time the cause of his halting needed no explanation. The bunch had +stopped and tarried there a few minutes, as the jumbled hoof-marks bore +witness, and the track of two horses led away toward Ten Mile Spring.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Darn it all!" Piegan grumbled. "Now, what d'yuh reckon's the meanin' uh +that? Them two has lit straight for where Baker's layout was camped this +mornin'. What for? Are they pullin' out uh the country with the coin? Or +are they lookin' for you fellers?"</p> + +<p>"Well"—MacRae thought a moment—"considering the care they've taken to +cover up their movements, I don't see what other object they could have +in view but making a smooth getaway. They've worked it nicely all +around. You know that if there was anything they wanted they weren't +taking any risk by going to any freight camp. We're the only men in the +country that know why they are pulling out this way—and <i>they</i> know +that we daren't go in and report it, because they've managed to put us +on the dodge. They have reason to be sure that headquarters wouldn't for +a minute listen to a yarn like we'd have to tell—they'd have time to +ride to Mexico, while we sucked our thumbs in the guardhouse waiting for +the rest of the Police to get wise by degrees."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then I tell yuh what let's do," Piegan abruptly decided. "I like t' +know what's liable t' happen when I'm on a jaunt uh this kind. One of us +better head in for the Crossin' an' find out for sure if any uh them +fellers come t' the camp, an' what he wanted there. An' seein' nobody +outside uh Horner knows I'm in on this play, I reckon I better go +m'self. If there should happen t' be a stray trooper hangin' round +there, the same would be mighty awkward for you fellers. So I'll go. You +poke along the trail slow, an' I'll overhaul yuh."</p> + +<p>"All right," MacRae agreed, and Piegan forthwith departed for the +Crossing.</p> + +<p>After Piegan left us we rode at a walk, and even then it was something +of a task to follow the faint impression. In the course of an hour a +cluster of dark objects appeared on the bench, coming rapidly toward us. +MacRae brought the glasses to bear on them at once, for there was always +the unpleasant possibility of Mounted Policemen cutting in on our trail; +the riders of every post along the line were undoubtedly on the watch +for us.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It's Piegan and another fellow," Mac announced shortly. "They're +leading two extra horses, and Piegan has changed mounts himself. I +wonder what's up—they seem to be in a dickens of a hurry."</p> + +<p>We got off and waited for them, wondering what the change of horses +might portend. They swung down to us on a run, and it needed no second +glance at the features of Piegan Smith to know that he brought with him +a fresh supply of trouble. His scraggly beard was thrust forward +aggressively, and his deep-set eyes fairly blazed between narrowed lids.</p> + +<p>"Slap your saddles on them fresh hosses," he grated harshly from the +back of a deep-chested, lean-flanked gray. "Let the others go—to hell +if they want to!"</p> + +<p>"What's up?" I asked sharply, and MacRae flung the same query over one +shoulder as he fumbled at the tight-drawn latigo-knot.</p> + +<p>Piegan rose in his stirrups and raised a clenched fist; the seamed face +of him grew purple under its tan, and the words came out like the +challenge of a range-bull.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Them—them —— —— —— —— —— has got your girl!" he roared.</p> + +<p>The latigo dropped from MacRae's hand. "What?" he turned on Piegan +savagely, incredulously.</p> + +<p>"I said it—I said it! Yuh heard me, didn't yuh!" Piegan shouted. "This +mornin' about sunrise. That Hicks—the damned —— —— —— he come t' +Baker's as they hooked up t' leave the Spring. He had a note for her, +an' she dropped everything an' jumped on a hoss he'd brought an' rode +away with him, cryin' when she left. He told Horner you'd bin shot +resistin' arrest, an' wanted t' see her afore yuh cashed in. They ain't +seen hide nor hair uh her since. Aw, don't stand starin' at me thataway. +Hurry up! They ain't got twelve hours' start—an' by God I'll smell 'em +out in the dark for this!"</p> + +<p>It was like a knife-thrust in the back; such a devilish and unexpected +turn of affairs that for half a second I had the same shuddery feeling +that came to me the night I stooped over Hans Rutter and gasped at sight +of what the fiends had done.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> MacRae whitened, but the full import of +Piegan's words stunned him to silence. The bare possibility of Lyn Rowan +being at the dubious mercy of those ruthless brutes was something that +called for more than mere words. He hesitated only a moment, nervously +twisting the saddle-strings with one hand, then straightened up and tore +loose the cinch fastening.</p> + +<p>After that outburst of Piegan's no one spoke. While Mac and I +transferred our saddles to the Baker horses, Piegan swung down from his +gray and, opening the pack on the horse we had been leading, took out a +little bundle of flour and bacon and coffee and tied it behind the +cantle of his saddle. A frying-pan and coffee-pot he tossed to me. Then +we mounted and took to the trail again, stripped down to fighting-trim, +unhampered by a pack-horse.</p> + +<p>Of daylight there yet remained a scant two hours in which we could hope +to distinguish a hoof-mark. Piegan leaned over his saddle-horn and took +hills and hollows, wherever the trail led, with a rush that unrolled the +miles behind us at a marvelous<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> rate. For an hour we galloped silently, +matching the speed of fresh, wiry horses against the dying day, no sound +arising in that wilderness of brown coulée banks and dun-colored prairie +but the steady beat of hoofs, and the purr of a rising breeze from the +east. Then I became aware that Piegan, watching the ground through +half-closed eyelids, was speaking to us. From riding a little behind, to +give him room to trail, we urged our horses alongside.</p> + +<p>"Them fellers at Baker's camp," he said, without looking up, "would 'a' +come in a holy minute if there'd been hosses for 'em t' ride. But they +only had enough saddle-stock along t' wrangle the bulls—an' I took +three uh the best they had. Three of us is enough, anyhow. We kain't +ride up on them fellers now an' go t' shootin'. They're all together +again. I seen, back a ways, where them two hoss-tracks angled back from +the spring. They must 'a' laid up at that camp we passed till sometime +before daylight—seein' that damned Hicks come t' Baker's early this +mornin'. An' if they didn't travel very fast t'-day—which ain't likely, +'cause they probably<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> figure they're dead safe, and their track don't +show a fast gait—there's just a chance that we'll hit 'em by dark if we +burn the earth. We're good for thirty miles before night covers up their +track. Don't yuh worry none, old boy," he bellowed at MacRae. "Old Injun +Smith'll see yuh through. God! I could 'a' cried m'self when I hit that +camp an' the old nigger woman went t' bawlin' when I told her yuh was +both out on the bench, sound as a new dollar. That was the first they +suspicioned anythin' was wrong. Them dirty, low-lived —— —— ——!"</p> + +<p>Piegan lapsed into a string of curses. MacRae, apparently unmoved, +nodded comprehension. But I knew what he was thinking, and I knew that +when once we got within striking distance of Hicks, Gregory & Co., there +would be new faces in hell without delay.</p> + +<p>We slowed our horses to a walk to ascend an abrupt ridge. When we gained +the top a vast stretch of the Northwest spread away to the east and +north. Piegan lifted his eyes from the trail for an instant.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Great Lord!" he said. "Look at the buffalo. It'll be good-by t' these +tracks before long."</p> + +<p>As far as the eye could reach the prairie was speckled with the herds, +speckled with groups of buffalo as the sky is dotted with clusters of +bright stars on a clear night. They moved, drifting slowly, in a +southerly direction, here in sharply defined groups, there in long +lines, farther in indistinct masses. But they moved; and the air that +filled our nostrils was freighted with the tang of smoke.</p> + +<p>We did not halt on the ridge. There was no need. We knew without +speculating what the buffalo-drift and the smoke-tinged air presaged; +and it bade us make haste before the tracks were quite obliterated.</p> + +<p>So with the hill behind us, and each of us keeping his thoughts to +himself—none of them wholly pleasant, judging by my own—we galloped +down the long slope, a red sunset at our backs and in our faces a gale +of dry, warm wind, tainted with the smell of burning grass. And at the +bottom of the slope, in the depths of a high-walled coulée where the +evening shadows were mustering for their stealthy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> raid on the gilded +uplands, we circled a grove of rustling poplars and jerked our horses up +short at sight of a scarlet blotch among the gloom of the trees.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<h3>HONOR AMONG THIEVES.</h3> + + +<p>We knew, even as our fingers instinctively closed on the handles of our +six-shooters, that we had not come upon the men we wanted; in such a +case there would have been an exchange of leaden courtesies long before +we managed to get in their immediate vicinity. It was unlikely that they +would cease to exercise the cunning and watchfulness that had, so far, +carried their infernal schemes through with flying colors. And a second +look showed us that the scarlet coat belonged to a man who half-sat, +half-lay on the ground, his shoulders braced against the trunk of a +fallen tree. We got off our horses and went cautiously up to him.</p> + +<p>"Be not afraid; it is only I!" Goodell raised his head with an effort +and greeted us mockingly. "I am, as you can see, hors de combat. What is +your pleasure, gentlemen?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> + +<p>The weakness of his tone and the pallid features of him vouched for the +truth of his statement. Stepping nearer, we saw that the light-colored +shirt showing between the open lapels of his jacket was stained a +tell-tale crimson. The hand he held against his breast was dabbled and +streaked with the blood that oozed from beneath the pressing fingers; +the leaf-mold under him was saturated with it.</p> + +<p>"Where is the rest of the bunch?" MacRae asked him evenly. "You seem to +have got a part of what is coming to you, but your skirts aren't clear, +for all that."</p> + +<p>"You have a bone to pick with me, eh?" Goodell murmured. "Well, I don't +blame you. But don't adopt the role of inquisitor—because I'm as good +as dead, and dead men tell no tales. My mouth will be closed forever in +a little while—and I can die as easily with it unopened. But if you'll +get me a drink of water, and be decent about it, I'll unfold a tale +that's worth while. I assure you it will be to your interest to give me +a hearing."</p> + +<p>Piegan turned and strode out of the timber. He<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> unfastened the +coffee-pot from my saddle, and made for the coulée channel we had +crossed, in which a buffalo-wallow still held water from the recent +rain.</p> + +<p>Goodell coughed, and a red, frothy stream came from his lips. It isn't +in the average man to be utterly callous to the suffering of another, +even if that other richly deserves his pain. Notwithstanding the +deviltry he and his confederates had perpetrated, I couldn't help +feeling sorry for Goodell—what little I'd seen of him had been likable +enough. I found it hard to look at him there and believe him guilty of +murder, robbery, and kindred depredations. He was beyond reach of +earthly justice, anyway; and one can't help forgiving much to a man who +faces death with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Are you in any pain, Goodell?" I asked.</p> + +<p>"None whatever," he answered weakly. "But I'm a goner, for all that. I +have a very neat knife-thrust in the back. Also a bullet somewhere in my +lungs. You see in me," he drawled, "a victim of chivalry. I've played +for big stakes; I've robbed gaily, and killed a man or two in the way of +fight<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>ing; all of which sits lightly on my conscience. But there are two +things I haven't done. I want you to remember distinctly that I have +<i>not</i> dragged that girl into this—nor had any hand in torturing a +wounded old man."</p> + +<p>"You mean Lyn Rowan? Is she safe?" Mac squatted beside him, leaning +eagerly forward to catch the reply. Piegan returned with the water as +Goodell was about to answer. He swallowed thirstily, took breath, and +went on.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I mean her," he said huskily. "I'll tell you quick, for I know I +won't last long, and when I'm done you'll know where to look for them. I +started this thing—this hold-up business—no matter why. Lessard was +away in the hole—gambling and other things—I hinted the idea to him; +he jumped at it, as I thought he would. And——"</p> + +<p>"Lessard!" I interrupted. "He was in on this, then?"</p> + +<p>"Was he?" Goodell echoed. "He is the whole thing."</p> + +<p>I had suspected as much, but sometimes it is a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> surprise to have one's +suspicions confirmed. I glanced at Mac and Piegan.</p> + +<p>"I was sure of it all along," Mac answered my unspoken thought. Piegan +merely shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>"I wanted to get that government money in the pay-wagon, that was +all—at first," Goodell continued. "We planned a long time ahead, and we +had to take in those three to make it go. Then Lessard found out about +those two old miners, and put Hicks and Gregory on their trail unknown +to me—I had no hand in that foul business. You know the result—the +finish—that night you lost the ten thousand—it was hellish work. I +wanted to kill Hicks and Gregory when they told me. Poor old Dutchman! +Lessard put Bevans on your trail, Flood. He followed you from Walsh that +day, and you played into his hands that night when you stirred up the +fire. Only for running into his partners, he would probably have +murdered you for that ten thousand some night while you slept. Give me +another drink."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> + +<p>I lifted the pot of water to his lips again, and he thanked me +courteously.</p> + +<p>"Then Lessard conceived the theory that you fellows had learned more +than you told. We were fixed to get the paymaster on that trip. We shook +you, and did the job. MacRae was on the way—you know. He sent you to +the Stone with those devils to keep cases on you. It seemed a pity to +let slip that gold-dust after they had gone so far. You know how that +panned out. We had a stake then. Lessard was the brains, the guiding +genius; we did the work. The original plan was to make a clean-up, +divide with him, and get out of the country—while he used his authority +to throw the Force off the track till we were well away. Then the girl +appeared, and Lessard lost his head. She turned him down; and at the +last moment he upset our plans by deciding to cut loose and go with us. +I believe now that he hatched this latest scheme when she refused him. I +tell you he was fairly mad about her. He took advantage of this last +trip to loot the post of all the funds he could lay hands on. We<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +have—or, rather, <i>they</i> have," he corrected, "about a hundred and fifty +thousand altogether.</p> + +<p>"We couldn't ford Milk River on account of the storm. You tracked us? +You saw our last camp? Yes. Well, we left there early this morning. And +when Hicks turned off opposite Baker's outfit with an extra horse, I +thought nothing of it—it was perfectly safe, and we needed more +matches, Lessard said. Not until he joined us later with the girl did I +suspect that there were wheels within wheels; a kidnapping had never +occurred to me; I hadn't thought his infatuation would carry him that +far. She realized at once that she had been hoodwinked, and appealed to +Lessard. He laughed at her, and told her that he had abandoned the +modern method of winning a mate, and gone back to the primitive mode.</p> + +<p>"I've put myself beyond the pale; outlaw, thief, what you like—I'm not +sensitive to harsh names. But a woman—a good woman! Well, I have my own +ideas about such things. And when we camped here, I had made up my mind. +I told Lessard she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> must go back. That was a foolish move. I should have +got the drop and killed him out of hand. While I argued with him, Hicks +slipped a knife into my back, and as I turned on him Lessard shot me. +Ah, well—it'll be all the same a hundred years from now. But I'd like +to put a spoke in their wheel for the sake of that blue-eyed girl.</p> + +<p>"MacRae, you and Smith know the mouth of Sage Creek, and the ford there. +That's where they'll camp to-night. I doubt if they'll cross the river +till morning. If you ride you can make it in three hours. From there +they plan to follow Milk River to the Missouri and catch a down-stream +boat. But you'll get them to-night. You must. Now give me another +drink—and drift!"</p> + +<p>"We'll get them, Goodell." MacRae rose to his feet as he spoke. "You're +white, if you did get off wrong. I'll remember what you did—for her. Is +there anything we can do for you?"</p> + +<p>Goodell shook his head. "I tell you," he said, and turned his head to +look wistfully up at the eastern coulée-rim, all tinted with the blazing +sun<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>set. "I'll go out over the hills with the shadows. An hour—maybe +two. It's my time. I've no complaint to make. All I want is a drink. You +can do no good for a dead man; and the living are sorely in need. It'll +be a bit lonesome, that's all."</p> + +<p>"No message for anybody?" MacRae persisted.</p> + +<p>"No—yes!" The old mocking, reckless tone crept into his voice again. +"If you should have speech with Lessard before you put his light out, +tell him I go to prepare a place for him—a superheated grid! Now +drift—<i>vamos</i>—hit the trail. Remember, the gorge at the mouth of Sage +Creek. Good-by."</p> + +<p>Soberly we filed out from among the trees, now swaying in the grip of +the wind, their leafy boughs rustling sibilantly; as though the weird +sisters whispered in the nodding branches that here was another thread +full-spun and ready for the keen shears. Soberly we swung to the saddle +and rode slowly away, lest the quick beat of hoofs should bring a sudden +pang of loneliness to the intrepid soul calmly awaiting death under the +shivering<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> trees. I think that one bold effort to right a wrong will +more than wipe out the black score against him when the Book of Life is +balanced.</p> + +<p>A little way beyond the poplar-grove Piegan drew rein, and held up one +hand.</p> + +<p>"Poor devil," he muttered. "He's a-calling us."</p> + +<p>But he wasn't. He was fighting off the chill of loneliness that comes to +the strongest of us when we face the unknowable, the empty void that +there is no escaping. Dying there in the falling dusk, he was singing to +himself as an Indian brave chants his death-song when the red flame of +the torture-fire bites into his flesh.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Sing heigh, sing ho, for the Cavalier!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Sing heigh, sing ho, for the Crown.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Gentlemen all, turn out, turn out;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">We'll keep these Roundheads down!</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Down—down—down—down.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">We'll ke—ep these Round—heads down!</span><br /> +</p> + +<p>Once—twice, the chorus of that old English Royalist song rose up out of +the grove. Then it died away, and we turned to go. And as we struck home +the spurs, remembering the mouth of Sage<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> Creek and the dark that was +closing down, a six-shooter barked sharply, back among the trees.</p> + +<p>I swung my horse around in his tracks and raced him back to the poplars, +knowing what I would find, and yet refusing to believe. I will not say +that his big heart had failed him; perhaps it did not seem to him worth +while to face the somber shadows to the bitter end, lying alone in that +deep hollow in the earth. It may be that the night looked long and +comfortless, and it was his wish to go out with the sun. He lay beside +the fallen tree, his eyes turned blankly to the darkening sky, the +six-shooter in his hand as he had held it for the last time. I +straightened his arms, and covered his face with the blood-stained coat +and left him to his long sleep. And even old Piegan lifted his hat and +murmured "Amen" in all sincerity as we turned away.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<h3>THE BISON.</h3> + + +<p>When we reached high ground again the twilight was fading to a +semicircle of bloodshot gray in the northwest. The wind still blew +squarely in our faces. Down in the coulée we had not noticed it so much, +but now every breath was rank with the smell of grass-smoke, and each +mile we traversed the stink of it grew stronger.</p> + +<p>"We'll be blamed lucky if we don't run into a prairie-fire before +mornin'," Piegan grumbled. "If that wind don't let up, she'll come +a-whoopin'. It'll be a sure enough smoky one, too, with this mixture uh +dry grass an' the new growth springin' up. It didn't rain so hard down +in this country, I notice. Ain't that a lalla of a smell?"</p> + +<p>Neither of us answered, and Piegan said no more. It grew dark—dark in +the full sense of the word. The smoke-burdened atmosphere was impervious +to the radiance of the stars. Only by Smith's instinc<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>tive sense of +direction did we make any headway toward the mouth of Sage Creek. Even +MacRae owned himself somewhat at fault, once we came among the buffalo. +They barred our path in dimly-seen masses that neither halted, +scattered, nor turned aside when we galloped upon them in the gloom. We +were the ones who gave the road, riding now before, now behind the +indistinct bulk of a herd, according as we judged the shorter way.</p> + +<p>More dense became the brute mass. Whirled this way and that, as Piegan +led, I knew neither east, west, north or south from one moment to +another. Betimes we found a stretch of open country, and gave our horses +the steel, but always to bring up suddenly against the bison plodding in +groups, in ranks, in endless files. They were ubiquitous; stolid +obstructions that we could neither avoid nor ride down. Our progress +became monotonous, a succession of fruitless attempts to advance; +hopeless, like wandering in a subtle maze. Bison to the right of us, +bison to the left of us, an uncounted swarm behind us, and as many +before—but they neither<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> bellowed nor thundered; they passed like +phantoms in the night, soundlessly save for the muffled trampling of +cloven hoofs, and here and there upon occasion hoarse coughings that +were strangled by the wind.</p> + +<p>And we rode as silently as the bison marched. For each one of us had +seen that one-minded pilgrimage of the brown cattle take place in moons +gone by. I recalled a time when a trail-herd lay on the Platte and the +buffalo barred their passing for two days—even made fourteen riders and +three thousand Texas steers give ground. Is it not history that the St. +Louis-Benton river-boats backed water when the bison crossed the +Missouri in the spring and fall? Remembering these, and other times that +the herds had gathered and swept over the plains, a plague of monstrous +locusts, pushing aside men and freight-trains, I knew what would happen +should the buffalo close their ranks, marshal the scattered groups into +closer formation, quicken the pace of the multitude that poured down +from the north. And presently it happened.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span></p> + +<p>Insensibly the number of moving bodies increased. The consolidation was +imperceptible in the murk, but nevertheless it took place. We ceased to +find clear spaces where we could gallop; a trot became impossible. We +were hemmed in. A rank animal odor mingled with the taint of smoke. +Gradually the muffled beat of hoofs grew more pronounced, a shuffling +monotone that filled the night. We were mere atoms in a vast wave of +horn and bone and flesh that bore us onward as the tide floats +driftwood.</p> + +<p>The belated moon stole up from its lair, hovered above the sky-line, a +gaudy orange sphere in the haze of smoke. It shed a tenuous glimmer on +the sea of bison that had engulfed us; and at the half-revealed sight +MacRae lifted his clenched hands above his head and cursed the +circumstance that had brought us to such extremity. That was the first +and only time I knew him to lose his poise, his natural repression. +Still water runs deep, they say; and a glacial cap may conceal +subterranean fires. Trite similes, I grant you—but, ah, how true. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +good Lord help those phlegmatics who can stand by unmoved when a +self-contained man reveals the anguish of his soul in one passionate +outburst. Could the fury that quivered in his voice have wreaked itself +on the bison and the men we followed, the stench of their blasted +carcasses would have reached high heaven. But the bison surrounded us +impassively, bore us on as before; somewhere, miles beyond, Lessard +pursued the evil tenor of his way; and MacRae's futile passion, like a +wave that has battered itself to foam against a sullen cliff, subsided +and died. Later, while we three cast-aways drifted with the bovine tide, +he spoke to Piegan Smith.</p> + +<p>"How are we going to get through?"</p> + +<p>"Dunno. But we <i>will</i> get through, yuh c'n gamble on that." Optimism +rampant was the dominating element in Piegan's philosophy of life.</p> + +<p>As if to prove that he was a true prophet, the herd split against a +rocky pinnacle, and on this we stranded. So much, at least, we had +gained—we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> were no longer being carried willy-nilly out of our way.</p> + +<p>"If they'd only scatter a little," MacRae muttered.</p> + +<p>But for a long two hours the bison streamed by our island, dividing +before and closing behind the insensate peak that alone had power to +break their close-packed ranks. Then came an opening, a falling apart; +slight as it was, we plunged into it with joy. Thereafter we were +buffeted like chips in the swirling maw of a whirlpool; we fought our +way rod by rod. Here an opening, and we shot through; there a solid wall +of flesh for whose passing we halted, lashing out with quirts and +spurring desperately to hold our own—a war for the open road against an +enemy whose only weapon was his unswerving bulk. And we won. We pushed, +twisted, spurred our way through the ranks of a hundred thousand bison. +Jostling, cursing the brute swarm, we crowded our horses against the +press, and lo! of a sudden we reined up on open ground—the bison, like +a nightmare, were gone. Off in the gloom to one side of us a myriad of +hoofs beat the earth, the hoarse coughings continued, the animal odor +exhaled—but it was no longer a force to be reckoned with. We were free. +We had outflanked the herd.</p> + +<p><a name="a_war" id="a_war"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/img04.jpg" alt="A WAR FOR THE OPEN ROAD" title="A WAR FOR THE OPEN ROAD" /></div> +<h4>A WAR FOR THE OPEN ROAD AGAINST AN ENEMY<br />WHOSE ONLY +WEAPON WAS HIS UNSWERVING BULK.<br /><a href='#Page_256'><i>Page 256.</i></a></h4> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + +<h3>THE MOUTH OF SAGE CREEK.</h3> + + +<p>With that opposing force behind us, we bore away across the shrouded +benches, straight for the mouth of Sage Creek. What method we would +pursue when we got there was not altogether clear to me, and the same +thing evidently bothered Piegan, for, after a long interval, he +addressed himself pointedly to MacRae.</p> + +<p>"We ought t' hit the river in an hour or so," he said. "It's time we +figured on how we're goin' t' work, eh? I wish t' the Lord it was +daylight."</p> + +<p>"So do I," MacRae moodily responded. "For that matter, it won't be long. +I've been thinking that the best way would be to get down on the flat at +the north of the creek and <i>cache</i> our horses in the timber. Then we can +sneak around without making any noise. If they're not camped on the +flat, we'll find them somewhere up the gorge. Of course, there's a +chance that they have crossed the river<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>—but if they didn't get there +in daylight, and the river is still high, I hardly think they'd risk +fording in the dark."</p> + +<p>"That's about the way I had sized it up," Piegan replied. "The flat +ain't bigger'n a good-sized flapjack, nohow, an' if they're on that or +up in Sage Creek canyon, we're bound t' locate 'em; kain't help hearin' +their hosses snort or cough or make some sort uh noise, if we go +careful. The worst of it is, we kain't start the ball a-rollin' till we +get that girl spotted—that's the hell of it! Like as not she'd be the +first one t' get hurt. An' if we get rambunctious an' stir 'em up in the +dark, an' <i>don't</i> put the finishin' to 'em right then an' there—why, +they got all the show in the world t' make a hot-foot getaway. <i>Sabe?</i> +While I ain't lookin' for a chance t' sidestep the game, for I know how +yuh feel, I'd say locate 'em if we can, an' then back up a little and +wait for day."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know, I know!" Mac burst out. "That's sense. But it gives me the +creeps to think—to think——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Sure; we know it," Piegan answered softly. "We kain't tell till we get +there, anyway. Maybe we'll get 'em dead t' rights. No tellin' what'll +come up when we get into that canyon. When we get 'em spotted we c'n +make up our minds what t' do—if we have any time t' talk about it," he +finished, in an undertone.</p> + +<p>As we rode, the crimson-yellow reflection of burning prairies began to +tint the eastern sky; once, from the crest of a hill, we saw the +wavering line of flame, rising and falling in beautiful undulations. And +presently we galloped across a mile or two of level grassland and pulled +up on the very brink of Sage Creek canyon.</p> + +<p>"Easy, easy, from here on," Piegan whispered caution. "We may be right +above 'em, for all we know. We hit it a little too high up. How far +d'yuh reckon it is t' the mouth, Mac?"</p> + +<p>"Not more than half a mile," MacRae returned. "We're not far out. I know +where there's a good place to get down."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p> + +<p>We turned sharply to the right, coming out on a narrow point. Without +mishap we reached the foot of the steep hill. At the bottom the wind was +almost wholly shut off, so that sounds were easier to distinguish. The +moon had passed its zenith long since, and half of the flat lay in dense +shadow. Beyond the shadow a pall of smoke lay over everything, a +shifting haze that made objects near at hand indefinite of outline, +impossible to classify at a glance. A horse or a tree or a clump of +brush loomed up grotesquely in the vaporous blur.</p> + +<p>Mac, to whom the topography of that gloomy place was perfectly familiar, +led the way. A black, menacing wall that rose before us suddenly +resolved itself into a grove of trees, great four-foot cottonwoods. He +stole into the heart of the grove and satisfied himself that our game +had not appropriated it as a camping-place. That assured, we followed +with our horses and tied them securely, removing saddles and bridles, +lest the clank of steel or creaking of leather betray our presence to +listening ears. On any noise our horses might make we had no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> choice but +to take a chance. Then we looked to our guns and set out on a stealthy +search.</p> + +<p>A complete circle of that tiny bottom—it was only a shelf of sage-brown +land lying between the river and the steep bank—profited us nothing, +and Piegan whispered that now we must seek for them in the gorge.</p> + +<p>Cautiously we retraced our steps from the lower end of the flat, and +turned into the narrow mouth of the canyon. We had no more than got +fairly between the straight-up-and-down walls of it than Piegan halted +us with a warning hand. We squatted in the sage-brush and listened. +Behind us, from the river, came a gentle plashing.</p> + +<p>"Beaver," I hazarded.</p> + +<p>"Too loud," Piegan murmured. "Let's go back an' see."</p> + +<p>We reached the river-edge just in time to hear the splashing die away; +and though we strained our eyes looking, we could make out no movement +on the surface of the river or in the dimly-outlined scrub that fringed +the opposite bank. Piegan turned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> on the instant and ran to where we had +tied our horses; but they stood quietly as we had left them.</p> + +<p>"I got a hunch they'd got onto us, an' maybe set us afoot for a +starter," Piegan explained. "I reckon that must 'a' been a deer or some +other wild critter."</p> + +<p>Once more we turned into the canyon, and this time followed its narrow, +scrub-patched floor some three hundred yards up from the river. It was +dark enough for any kind of deviltry in that four-hundred foot gash in +the earth; the sinking moon lightened only a strip along the east wall, +near the top; lower down, smoke mingling with the natural gloom cast an +impenetrable veil from bank to bank; not a breath of air stirred the +tomblike stillness. Directly in front of us a horse coughed. We dropped +on all fours, listened a moment, then crept forward. Without warning, we +found ourselves foul of a picket-line, and the vague forms of grazing +horses loomed close by. Piegan halted us with a touch, and we lay flat; +then with our heads together he whispered softly:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> + +<p>"We must be right on top uh them. It's a cinch their camp ain't far from +their livestock. I wonder——"</p> + +<p>To the left of us a horse snorted nervously; we heard him trot with +high, springy strides to the end of his rope, and snort again. Then a +voice cut the stillness that followed: "Here, you fool, what's the +matter with you?"</p> + +<p>We hugged the ground like frightened rabbits. It hardly seemed possible +that we could be within speaking-distance of them—yet that was +Gregory's clear enunciation; I would know his speech in a jabberfest of +several nations.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter?" That, by the curt inflection, the autocratic +peremptoriness, was Lessard. I had one hand on MacRae's shoulder, and I +felt a tremor run through his body, like the rising of a cat's fur at +sight of an adversary.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing much," Gregory answered carelessly. "I was just speaking to +one of these fool horses. They seem to be as nervous as you are."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> And +we could hear him chuckle over this last remark.</p> + +<p>After that there was nothing but the muffled tr-<i>up</i>, tr-<i>up</i> of grazing +horses. Piegan or MacRae, I could not tell which, tugged gently at my +arm, and the three of us retreated slowly, crawling both literally and +figuratively. When we were well away from the camp of that ungodly +combination, Piegan rose to his feet and we proceeded a little faster +until we reached a distance that permitted of low-toned conversation.</p> + +<p>"Now," Piegan declared, "we have 'em located. An' I'm here t' declare +that it's plumb foolish t' mix things with that layout till we can see +t' shoot tolerable straight. If we go against 'em now, it'll be all same +goin' blindfolded into a barn t' pick out the best hoss. The first gun +that pops they'll raise up an' quit the earth like a bunch uh antelope. +<i>They</i> ain't got nothin' t' win in a fight—unless they're cornered. I +did think uh tryin' t' get off with their hosses, but I figured it +wouldn't pay with that sharp-eared cuss on the watch. Whenever it comes +day,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> we got all the best uh things—though I don't reckon we'll have a +walkaway. We want t' make a clean job once we start in, an' we kain't do +that in the dark. Furthermore, as I said before, if we go t' throwin' +lead when we kain't see ten feet in front of us, we'd just about hit +that girl first rattle out uh the box. She ain't comin' t' no harm just +now, or it wouldn't be so blamed peaceful around there. It's only a +matter of a couple uh hours t' daylight, anyhow. What d'yuh think?"</p> + +<p>"Under the circumstances, the only thing we can do is to wait," MacRae +assented, and I fancied that there was a reluctant quiver in his usually +steady voice. "It's going to be smoky at daybreak, but we can see their +camp from this first point, I think. There's a big rock over here—I'll +show you—you and Sarge can get under cover there. I'll lie up on the +opposite side, so they'll have to come between us. Let them pack and get +started. When they get nearly abreast, cut loose. Shoot their +saddle-horses first, then we can fight it out. Come on, I'll show you +that rock."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p> + +<p>MacRae's bump of location was nearly as well developed as Piegan's. He +picked his way through the sage-brush to the other side of the canyon, +bringing us in the deepest gloom to a great slab of sandstone that had +fallen from above, and lay a few feet from the base of the sheer wall. +It was a natural breastwork, all ready to our hand. There, without +another word, he left us. Crouching in the shelter of that rock, not +daring to speak above a whisper, denied the comforts of tobacco, it +seemed as if we were never to be released from the dusky embrace of +night. In reality it was less than two hours till daybreak, but they +were slow-footed ones to me. Then dawn flung itself impetuously across +the hills, and the naked rim of the canyon took form in a shifting whirl +of smoke. Down in the depths gloom and shadows vanished together, and +Piegan Smith and I peered over the top of our rock and saw the outlaw +camp—men and horses dim figures in the growing light. We scanned the +opposite side for sight of MacRae, but saw nothing of him; he kept close +under cover.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They're packin' up," Piegan murmured, with a dry chuckle. "I reckon +things won't tighten nor nothin' in a few minutes, eh? But say, damn if +I see anything among that layout that resembles a female. Do you?"</p> + +<p>I did not, even when I focused the field-glasses on that bunch at that +short distance. Certainly she was not there—at least she was not to be +seen, and I could almost read the expression on each man's features, so +close did the glasses draw them up. And failing to see her started me +thinking that after all she might have given them the slip. I hoped it +might be so. Lyn was no chicken-hearted weakling, to sit down and weep +unavailingly in time of peril. Bred on the range, on speaking-terms with +the turbulent frontier life, her wits weren't likely to forsake her in a +situation of that kind.</p> + +<p>While the light of day grew stronger and the smoke eddied in heavier +wreaths above, one of them swung up on a horse and came down the bottom +at a fast lope. We had no means of knowing what his mission might be, +but I did know that the square<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> shoulders, the lean eagle face, could +only belong to one man; and I dropped the glasses and drew a bead on his +breast. I hesitated a second, squinting along the barrel of the carbine; +I wanted him to round the point that jutted out from the other side of +the canyon, so that his partners could not see his finish. If they did +not see him go down, nor observe the puff of smoke from behind the rock, +they might think he had fired a shot himself. And while I waited, +grumbling at the combination of circumstances that made it necessary to +shoot down even a cold-blooded brute like him in such a way, Mac took +the matter out of my hands in his own characteristic fashion.</p> + +<p>Lessard turned the point, and as the carbine-hammer clicked back under +the pull of my thumb, MacRae sprang to his feet from behind a squatty +clump of sage, right in Lessard's path. Nervy as men are made, MacRae +worshiped at the shrine of an even break, a square deal for friend or +foe. And Lessard got it. There among the sage-brush he got a fair chance +for his life, according to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> code of men who settle their differences +at the business end of a six-shooter. But it wasn't Lessard's hour. +Piegan Smith and I saw his hand flash to his pistol, saw it come to a +level, heard the single report of MacRae's gun. It was a square +deal—which Lessard had not given us. He crumpled in the saddle; +sprawled a moment on the neck of his horse, and dropped to the ground. +MacRae sank behind the sage again, and we waited for the others.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + +<h3>AN ELEMENTAL ALLY.</h3> + + +<p>But they did not come. One of them must have seen Lessard fall, for at +the crack of MacRae's gun men and horses, already half-hidden by the +thickening smoke, vanished into the brush. Piegan fired one ineffectual +shot as they flicked out of sight. So far we had seen nothing of Lyn. I +was satisfied she was not in the party, unaccountable as that seemed to +be.</p> + +<p>"Darn 'em," Piegan grunted disgustedly. "They're next, now. An' they +don't aim t' run the gantlet till they have t'. We got 'em penned, +anyway; they can't get out uh that patch uh brush without showin' +themselves."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Piegan!" MacRae called to us. He lay within easy shouting-distance, +and managed to make himself heard without rising.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hello!" Piegan answered.</p> + +<p>"Can you fellows keep them from going up the canyon?"</p> + +<p>"I reckon we can," Smith called back, "unless this smoke gets so blame +thick we kain't see at all."</p> + +<p>"All right. I'm going up on top, and throw it into them from above. +Maybe I can drive them out of the brush."</p> + +<p>Piegan slapped me on the shoulder. "Darn our fool hearts," he exclaimed. +"We ought to 'a' thought uh that before. Why, he c'n pick 'em off like +blackbirds on a fence, from up there on the bench!"</p> + +<p>We did not see MacRae go, but we knew that he must have crawled through +the sage-brush to the creek channel, where, by stooping, he could gain +the mouth of the canyon unseen. Anyway, our time was fully occupied in +watching the brush-patch that sheltered our plundering friends. They +held close to their concealment, however, nor did they waste any powder +on us—for that matter, I don't think they knew just where we were, and +they<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> were familiar enough with the gentle art of bushwhacking to +realize that the open was a distinctly unhealthy place for either party +to prospect.</p> + +<p>It was a long time till we heard from MacRae again, and, lying there +passively, we grew afraid that after all they would give us the slip; +for the smoke was now rolling in black clouds above the gorge. So far +the thickest of it had blown overhead, but any moment a change of wind +might whip it down the canyon bottom like an ocean fog, and that would +mean good-by to Hicks & Co.</p> + +<p>"That fire's mighty close, an' comin' on the jump," Piegan remarked, +with an upward glance. "I wish she'd let up long enough for us t' finish +this job. That smoke's as good as they want, once it begins t' settle in +the gorge. What in thunder d'yuh s'pose Mac's doin' all this time. He +ought t' show pretty quick, now."</p> + +<p>He showed, as Piegan put it, very shortly. From the top of the opposite +bank he fired a shot or two, and drew for the first time a return from +the enemy. Then he broke off, and when he next gave hint of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> his +whereabouts, it was to hail us from the nearest point on the canyon rim.</p> + +<p>"Quit your hide-out and pull for the mouth of the gorge. Quick! I'll be +there."</p> + +<p>"What the hell's up now!" Piegan muttered. "Well, I guess we'll have t' +take a chance. If they don't wing us before we get across this bald +place, we'll be all right. Run like yuh was plumb scairt t' death, +Flood."</p> + +<p>We sprinted like a pair of quarter-horses across the thirty yards of +bare ground that spread in front of the rock, a narrow enough space, to +be sure, but barren of cover for a jack-rabbit, much less two +decent-sized men. My heart was pumping double-quick when we threw +ourselves headlong in the welcome sage-brush—they had done their level +best to stop us, and some of those forty-four caliber humming-birds +buzzed their leaden monotone perilously close to our heads. That is one +kind of music for which I have a profound respect.</p> + +<p>From there to the creek-channel we crawled on all fours, as MacRae had +done. Stooping, lest our<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> heads furnish a target, we splashed along in +the shallow water till we reached the mouth of the canyon. There we +slipped carefully to higher ground. MacRae was scrambling and sliding +down from above, barely distinguishable against the bank. Far up the +gorge dense clouds of black smoke swooped down from the benchland. +Already the patch of brush in which lay the renegade Policemen was +hidden in the smudge, shut away from our sight. We hailed MacRae when he +reached the foot of the hill, and he came crashing through sage and +buck-brush and threw himself, panting, on the ground.</p> + +<p>"The fire," he gasped, "is coming down the gorge. They're cut off at the +other end. They've got to come out here in a little while—or roast. The +smoke would choke a salamander, on top, right now. We can't miss them in +this narrow place, no matter how thick it gets. Look yonder!"</p> + +<p>A wavering red line licked its way to the canyon-edge on the east side, +wiped out the grass, and died on the bald rim-rock. Away up the creek a +faint crackling sounded.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dry timber," Piegan muttered. "It'll get warm 'round here pretty +directly."</p> + +<p>The smoke, blacker now, more dense, hot as a whiff from a baker's oven, +swooped down upon us in choking eddies. It blew out of the canyon-mouth +like a gust from a chimney, rolling over and over in billowy masses. The +banks on either hand were almost invisible. We knew that our time of +waiting was short. The popping of dry, scrubby timber warned us that our +position would soon be untenable. The infernal vapors from the unholy +mixture of green and dry grass, berry bushes, willow scrub, and the +ubiquitous sage, made breathing a misery and brought unwilling tears to +our stinging eyes. And presently, above the subdued but menacing noises +of the fire, the beat of galloping hoofs uprose.</p> + +<p>They burst out of the mouth of the canyon, a smoke-wreathed whirlwind, +heading for the protection of the river. The pack-horses, necked +together, galloped in the lead, and behind them Hicks, Gregory, and +Bevans leaned over the necks of their<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> mounts. They knew that we were +waiting for them, but at the worst they had a fighting chance with us, +and none with what came behind. So thick hung the smoky veil that they +were right on top of us before they took tangible shape; and when we +rose to our knees and fired, the crack of their guns mingled with that +of our own. Gregory, so near that I could see every feature of his dark +face, the glittering black eyes, the wide mouth parted over white, even +teeth, wilted in his saddle as they swept by. Bevans and his horse went +down together. But Hicks the wily, a superb horseman, hung in his off +stirrup and swerved away from us, and the smoke closed behind him to the +tune of our guns.</p> + +<p>It was done in less time than it has taken to tell of it. There was no +prolonged hand-to-hand struggle with buckets of blood marring the +surrounding scenery, and a beautiful heroine wringing her hands in +despair; merely a rush of horses and men out of the smoke, a brief spasm +of gun-fire—it was begun and ended in five seconds. But there were two +fallen men, and Piegan Smith with a hole through<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> the big muscle of his +right arm, to show that we had fought.</p> + +<p>The pack-horses, with no riders at their heels to guide them, had +tangled each other in the connecting-rope and stopped. Hicks was gone, +and likely to keep going. So we turned our attention to Gregory and +Bevans. Gregory was dead as the proverbial door-nail, but Bevans, on +investigation, proved to be very much alive—so much so that if he had +not been partly stunned by the fall, and thereafter pinned to the ground +by a thousand-pound horse, he would have potted one or two of us with a +good heart. As it was, we reached the gentleman in the same moment that +he made a heroic effort to lay hold of the carbine which had +luckily—for us—fallen beyond the length of his arm.</p> + +<p>"Yuh lay down there an' be good!" Piegan, out of the fullness of his +heart, emphasized his command with the toe of his boot. "Where's that +girl, yuh swine?"</p> + +<p>"Go to hell!" Bevans snarled.</p> + +<p>"Here," MacRae broke in hastily, "we've got to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> move pretty <i>pronto</i>, +and get across the river. That fire will be on us in five minutes. Sarge +and I will gather up their horses. You keep an eye on Bevans, Piegan; +he'll answer questions fast enough when I get at him."</p> + +<p>While Mac dashed across the creek I captured Gregory's horse, which had +stopped when his rider fell; and as I laid hand on the reins I thought I +heard a shot off beyond the river. But I couldn't be certain. The whine +of the wind that comes with a fire, the crackle of the fire itself, the +manifold sounds that echoed between the canyon walls and the pungent, +suffocating smoke, all conspired against clear thinking or hearing. I +listened a moment, but heard no more. Then, with time at a premium, I +hastened to straighten out the tangle of pack-animals. Mac loomed up in +the general blur with Lessard's body on his horse, as I led the others +back to where Piegan stood guard over Bevans.</p> + +<p>"Ain't this hell!" he coughed. "That fire's right on top of us. We got +t' make the river in a hurry."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span></p> + +<p>It was another minute's work to lash Gregory's body on one of the +pack-horses, and release the sullen Bevans from the weight of his dead +mount. As an afterthought, I looked in the pockets on his saddle, and +the first thing I discovered was a wad of paper money big enough to +choke an ox, as Piegan would say. I hadn't the time to investigate +further, so I simply cut the <i>anqueros</i> off his saddle and flung them +across the horn of my own—and even in that swirl of smoke and sparks I +glowed with a sense of gratification, for it seemed that at last I was +about to shake hands with the ten thousand dollars I had mourned as +lost. Then Piegan and I drove Bevans ahead of us and moved the spoils of +war to the river brink, while MacRae hurried to the cottonwood grove +after our own neglected mounts; they had given us too good service to be +abandoned to the holocaust.</p> + +<p>MacRae soon joined us with the three horses; out into the stream, wading +till the water gurgled around our waists, we led the bunch. Then we +were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> compelled to take our hats and slosh water over packs and saddles +till they were soaked—for the fire was ravaging the flat we had just +left, and showers of tiny sparks descended upon and around us. Thus +proof against the fiery baptism, though still half-strangled by the +smoke, our breathing a succession of coughs, we mounted and pushed +across.</p> + +<p>The high water had abated and the river was now flowing at its normal +stage, some three hundred yards in width and nowhere swimming-deep on +the ford. We passed beyond spark-range and splashed out on a sand-bar +that jutted from the southern bank. Midway between the lapping water and +the brush that lined the edge of the flat, a dark object became +visualized in the shifting gray vapor. We rode to it and pulled up in +amaze. Patiently awaiting the pleasure of his master, as a good cavalry +horse should, was the bay gelding Hicks had ridden; and Hicks himself +sprawled in the sand at the end of the bridle-reins. I got down and +looked him over. He was not dead; far from it. But a bullet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> had scored +the side of his head above one ear, and he was down and out for the +time.</p> + +<p>We stripped the pistol-belt off him, and a knife. At the same time we +rendered Bevans incapable of hostile movement by anchoring both hands +securely behind his back with a pack-rope. That done, Piegan's bleeding +arm came in for its share of attention. Then we held a council of war.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h2> + +<h3>SPEECHLESS HICKS.</h3> + + +<p>When I spoke of holding a council of war, I did so largely in a +figurative sense. Literally, we set about reviving Hicks, with a view to +learning from him what had become of Lyn Rowan. He and Bevans +undoubtedly knew, and as Bevans persisted in his defiant sullenness, +refusing to open his mouth for other purpose than to curse us +vigorously, we turned to Hicks. A liberal amount of water dashed in his +face aided him to recover consciousness, and in a short time he sat up +and favored us with a scowl.</p> + +<p>"What has become of that girl you took away from Baker's freight-train +yesterday morning?" MacRae dispassionately questioned.</p> + +<p>Hicks glared at him by way of answer.</p> + +<p>"Hurry up and find your tongue," MacRae prompted.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I dunno what you're drivin' at," Hicks dissembled.</p> + +<p>"You will know, in short order," MacRae retorted, "if you harp on that +tune. We've got you where we want you, and I rather think you'll be glad +to talk, before long. I ask you what became of that girl between the +time you knifed Goodell and this morning?"</p> + +<p>Hicks started at mention of Goodell. His heavy face settled into +stubborn lines. He blinked under MacRae's steady look. Of a sudden he +sprang to his feet. I do not know what his intention may have been, but +he got little chance to carry out any desperate idea that took form in +his brain, for MacRae knocked him back on his haunches with a single +blow of his fist.</p> + +<p>"Answer me," he shouted, "or by the Lord! I'll make you think hell is a +pleasure-garden compared to this sand-bar."</p> + +<p>"Kick a few uh his ribs out uh place for a starter," Piegan coolly +advised. "That'll he'p him remember things."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> + +<p>Yet for all their threats Hicks obstinately refused to admit that he had +ever seen Lyn Rowan. What his object was in denying knowledge we knew he +possessed did not transpire till later. He knew the game was lost, so +far as he was concerned, and he was mustering his forces in a last +effort to save himself. And MacRae's patience snapped like a frayed +thread before many minutes of futile query.</p> + +<p>"Get me a rope off one of those pack-horses, Sarge," he snapped.</p> + +<p>I brought the rope; and I will brazenly admit that I should not have +balked at helping decorate the limb of a cottonwood with those two +red-handed scoundrels. But I was not prepared for the turn MacRae took. +Hicks evidently felt that there was something ominous to the fore, for +he fought like a fiend when we endeavored to apply the rope to his arms +and legs. There was an almost superhuman desperation in his resistance, +and while MacRae and I hammered and choked him into submission Piegan +gyrated about us with a gun in his left hand, begging us to let <i>him</i> +put the finishing touches to Hicks.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> That, however, was the very +antithesis of MacRae's purpose.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to <i>kill</i> him, Piegan," he said pointedly, when Hicks was +securely tied. "If I had, do you suppose I'd dirty my hands on him in +that sort of a scramble when I know how to use a gun? I want him to +talk—you understand?—and he <i>will</i> talk before I'm through with him."</p> + +<p>There was a peculiar inflection about that last sentence, a world of +meaning that was lost on me until I saw Mac go to the brush a few yards +distant, return with an armful of dry willows and place them on the sand +close by Hicks. Without audible comment I watched him, but I was +puzzled—at first. He broke the dry sticks into fragments across his +knee; when he had a fair-sized pile he took out his knife and whittled a +few shavings. Not till he snapped his knife shut and put it in his +pocket and began, none too gently, to remove the boots from Hicks' feet, +did I really comprehend what he was about. It sent a shiver through me, +and even old Piegan stood aghast at the malevolent<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> determination of the +man. But we voiced no protest. That was neither the time nor place to +abide by the Golden Rule. Only the law of force, ruthless, inexorable, +would compel speech from Hicks. And since they would recognize no +authority save that of force, it seemed meet and just to deal with them +as they had dealt with us. So Piegan Smith and I stood aloof and watched +the grim play, for the fate of a woman hung in the balance. Hicks' +salient jaw was set, his expression unreadable.</p> + +<p>MacRae stacked the dry wood in a neat pyramid twelve inches from the +bare soles of Hicks' feet. He placed the shavings in the edge of the +little pile. Then he stood up and began to talk, fingering a match with +horrible suggestiveness.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you think that by keeping a close mouth there's a chance to get +out of some of the deviltry you've had a hand in lately. But there +isn't. You'll get what's coming to you. And in case you're bolstering up +your nerve with false hopes in that direction, let me tell you that we +know exactly how you turned every trick. I don't particularly care to +take<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> the law into my own hands; I'd rather take you in and turn you +over to the guard. But there's a woman to account for yet, and so you +can take your choice between the same deal you gave Hans Rutter and +telling me what became of her."</p> + +<p>He paused for a moment. Hicks stared up at him calculatingly.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you all I know about it if you turn me loose," he said. "Give +me a horse and a chance to pull my freight, and I'll talk. Otherwise, +I'm dumb."</p> + +<p>"I'll make no bargains with you," MacRae answered. "Talk or take the +consequences."</p> + +<p>Hicks shook his head. MacRae coughed—the smoke was still rolling in +thick clouds from over the river—and went on.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it will make my meaning clearer if I tell you what happened to +Rutter, eh? You and Gregory got him after he was wounded, didn't you? He +wouldn't tell where that stuff had been <i>cached</i>. But you had a way of +loosening a man's tongue—I have you to thank for the idea. Oh, it was a +good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> one, but that old Dutchman was harder stuff than you're made of. +You built a fire and warmed his feet. Still he wouldn't talk, so you +warmed them some more. Fine! But you didn't suppose you'd ever get +<i>your</i> feet warmed. I'm not asking much of you, and you'll be no deeper +in the mire when you answer. If you don't—well, there's plenty of wood +here. Will you tell me what I want to know, or shall I light the fire?"</p> + +<p>Still no word from Hicks. MacRae bent and raked the match along a flat +stone.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well," he said indifferently, "maybe you'll think better of it when +your toes begin to sizzle."</p> + +<p>He thrust the flaring match among the shavings. As the flame crept in +among the broken willows, Hicks raised his head.</p> + +<p>"If I tell you what become of her, will you let me go?" he proposed +again. "I'll quit the country."</p> + +<p>"You'll tell me—or cook by inches, right here," Mac answered +deliberately. "You can't buy me off."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p> + +<p>The blaze flickered higher. I watched it, with every fiber of my being +revolting against such savagery, and the need for it. I glanced at +Piegan and Bevans. The one looked on with grim repression, the other +with blanched face. And suddenly Hicks jerked up his knees and heaved +himself bodily aside with a scream of fear.</p> + +<p>"Put it out! Put it out!" he cried. "I'll tell you. For God's +sake—anything but the fire!"</p> + +<p>"Be quick, then," MacRae muttered, "before I move you back."</p> + +<p>"Last night," Hicks gasped, "when we pulled into the gorge to camp, she +jerked the six-shooter out uh Lessard's belt and made a run for it. She +took to the brush. It was dark, and we couldn't follow her. I don't know +where she got to, except that she started down the creek. We hunted for +her half the night—didn't see nothin'. That's the truth, s'help me."</p> + +<p>"Down the creek—say, by the great Jehosophat!" Piegan exclaimed. "D'yuh +remember that racket in the water this mornin'? Yuh wait." He turned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> +and ran down-stream. Almost instantly the smoke had swallowed him.</p> + +<p>MacRae stood staring for a second or two, then turned and scattered the +fire broadcast on the sand with a movement of his foot. He lifted his +hat, and I saw that his forehead and hair was damp with sweat.</p> + +<p>"That was a job I had mighty little stomach for," he said, catching my +eye and smiling faintly. "I thought that sulky brute would come through +if I made a strong bluff. I reckon I'd have weakened in another minute, +if he hadn't."</p> + +<p>"Ugh!" I shuddered. "It gave me the creeps. I wouldn't make a good +Indian."</p> + +<p>"Nor I," he agreed. "But I had to know. And I feel better now. I'm not +afraid for Lyn, since I know she got away from <i>them</i>."</p> + +<p>Piegan, at this moment, set up a jubilant hallooing down the river, and +shortly came rushing back to us.</p> + +<p>"Aha, I told yuh," he cried exultantly. "That was her crossed the river +this mornin'. I found her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> track in the sand. One uh yuh stand guard, +and the other feller come with me. We c'n trail her."</p> + +<p>"Go ahead," I told MacRae—a superfluous command, for I could not have +kept him from going if I had tried.</p> + +<p>So I was left on the sand-bar with two dead thieves, and two who should +have been dead, and a little knot of horses for company. Hicks and +Bevans gave me little concern. I had helped tie both of them, and I knew +they would not soon get loose. But it was a weary wait. An hour fled. I +paced the bar, a carbine in the crook of my arm and a vigilant eye for +incipient outbreaks for freedom on the part of those two wolves. The +horses stood about on three legs, heads drooping. The smoke-clouds +swayed and eddied, lifted a moment, and closed down again with the +varying spasms of the fire that was beating itself out on the farther +shore. I sat me down and rested a while, arose and resumed my nervous +tramping. The foglike haze began to thin. It became possible to breathe +without discomfort to the lungs; my eyes no longer<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> stung and watered. +And after a period in which I seemed to have walked a thousand miles on +that sandy point, I heard voices in the distance. Presently MacRae and +Piegan Smith broke through the willow fringe on the higher ground—and +with them appeared a feminine figure that waved a hand to me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE SPOILS OF WAR.</h3> + + +<p>All things considered, it was a joyous knot of humanity that gathered on +that sand-bar—if one excepts the two plunderers who were tied hard and +fast, their most cheerful outlook a speedy trial with a hangman's noose +at the finish. I recollect that we shook hands all around, and that our +tongues wagged extravagantly, regardless of whoever else might be +speaking. We settled down before long, however, remembering that we were +not altogether out of the woods.</p> + +<p>The fire by this time had, to a great extent, beaten itself out on the +opposite bank, and with nothing left but a few smoldering brush-patches, +the smoke continued to lift and give us sundry glimpses of the black +desolation that spread to the north. So far as we knew, the wind had +carried no sparks across the river to fire the south side and drive us +back to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> the barrenness of the burned lands. And with the certainty that +Lyn was safe, and that we were beyond disputing masters of the +situation, came consciousness of hunger and great bodily weariness. It +was almost twenty-four hours since we had eaten, and we were simply +ravenous. As a start toward an orderly method of procedure, we began by +re-dressing Piegan's punctured arm, which had begun to bleed again; +though it was by no means as serious a hurt as it might have been. +Piegan himself seemed to consider it a good deal of a joke on him, and +when I remarked that I failed to see how a bullet-hole through any part +of one's person could be regarded in a humorous light, Piegan snorted, +and told me that I would know more when I grew up. A little ventilation, +he declared, was something a man's system needed every year or two.</p> + +<p>Then we unsaddled and unpacked the horses, and moved them up on the +grassy flat. Piegan elected himself guard over the prisoners, while the +rest of us cooked a belated breakfast, and he assured them repeatedly +that he would be delighted to have them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> make a break, so that he could +have the pleasure of perforating their individual and collective hides. +I really believe the old rascal meant it, too; he succeeded, at least, +in giving that impression, and his crippled arm was no handicap to +him—he could juggle a six-shooter right or left-handed with amazing +dexterity.</p> + +<p>Lyn substantiated Goodell's story in every detail, so far as it had +dealt with her, and she told me, while we pottered about the fire, how +she waited her chance when they made camp in Sage Creek, and, snatching +Lessard's gun, ran for it in the dark.</p> + +<p>"I didn't really know where I was," she told me naively. "So I thought +I'd better hide till daylight and watch them go before I started. Then I +could try and make my way back to the freight outfit—I felt sure they +would either wait for me or send a man back to Walsh when I didn't come +back. I was hiding in those cottonwoods when you came stealing in there +this morning. You were so quiet, I couldn't tell who it was—I thought +perhaps they were still hunting for me; they did, you know<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span>—they were +rummaging around after me for a long time. But I never dreamed it could +be you and Gordon. So I sneaked down to the river and crossed; I was +deadly afraid they'd find me, and I thought once I was on the other side +I could hear them coming, and scuttle away in the brush. Then about +daylight I heard some shooting, and wondered if they had been followed. +I didn't dare cross the river and start over the hills with that fire +coming, and the smoke so thick I couldn't tell a hill from a hollow. I +waited a while longer—I was in this brush up here"—she pointed to a +place almost opposite—"and in a little while I heard more shooting, and +in a minute or so, he"—indicating Hicks—"came splashing through the +river. He was on the sand-bar before I could see him clearly, and coming +straight toward where I was huddled in the brush. Oh, but I was +frightened, and before I knew it, almost, I poked the gun between the +branches and fired at his head as straight as I could—and he fell off +his horse. Then I ran, before any more of them came. And that's really +all there is to it. I was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> plodding up the river, when I heard Gordon +shouting two or three hundred yards behind. Of course I knew his voice, +and stopped. But dear me! this seems like a bad dream, or maybe I ought +to say a good one. I hope you won't all disappear in the smoke."</p> + +<p>"Don't you worry," MacRae assured her. "When we vanish in the smoke +we'll take you with us."</p> + +<p>After we had eaten we made a systematic search of packs and +saddle-pockets, and when we had finished there was more of the root of +all evil in sight than I have laid my eyes on at any one time before or +since. The gold that had drawn us into the game was there in the same +long, buckskin sacks, a load for one horse. The government money, looted +from the paymaster, part gold coin and part bills, they had divided, and +it was stowed in various places. Lessard's saddle-pockets were crammed, +and likewise those of Hicks and Gregory. Bevans' <i>anqueros</i>, which I had +taken from his dead horse, yielded a goodly sum. Altogether, we counted +some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> seventy-odd thousand dollars, exclusive of the gold-dust in the +sacks.</p> + +<p>"There's a good deal more than that, according to Goodell's figures," +MacRae commented. "Lessard must have got away with quite a sum from the +post. I daresay the pockets of the combination hold the rest. But I +don't hanker to search a dead man, and that can wait till we get to +Walsh."</p> + +<p>"Yuh goin' t' lug this coyote bait t' Fort Walsh?" Piegan inquired. "I'd +leave 'em right here without the ceremony uh plantin'. An' I vote right +here an' now t' neck these other two geesers together an' run 'em off'n +a high bank into deep water."</p> + +<p>"I'd vote with you, so far as my personal feeling in the matter goes," +MacRae replied. "But we've got a lot of mighty black marks against us, +right now, and we're going in there to relate a most amazing tale. Of +course, we can prove every word of it. But I reckon we'll have to take +these two carcasses along as a sort of corroborative evidence. Every +confounded captain in the Force will have to view them officially; they +wouldn't take our word<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> for their being dead. So it would only delay the +clearing up of things to leave them here. These other jaspers will lend +a fine decorative effect to the noosed end of a three-quarter-inch rope +for their part in the play—unless Canadian justice miscarries, which +doesn't often happen if you give it time enough to get at the root of +things."</p> + +<p>Much as we had accomplished, we still had a problem or two ahead of us. +While we didn't reckon on having to defend ourselves against the +preposterous charge of holding up the paymaster, there was that little +matter of violent assault on the persons of three uniformed +representatives of Northwestern law—assault, indeed, with deadly +weapons; also the forcible sequestration of government property in the +shape of three troop-horses with complete riding appurtenances; the +uttering of threats; all of which was strictly against the peace and +dignity of the Crown and the statutes made and provided. No man is +supposed, as MacRae had pointed out to me after we'd held up those three +troopers, to inflict a compound fracture on one law<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> in his efforts to +preserve another. But it had been necessary for us to do so, and we had +justified our judgment in playing a lone hand and upsetting Lessard's +smoothly conceived plan to lay us by the heels while he and his thugs +got away with the plunder. We had broken up as hard a combination as +ever matched itself against the scarlet-coated keepers of the law; we +had gathered them in with the loot intact, and for this signal service +we had hopes that the powers that be would overlook the break we made on +Lost River ridge. Lessard had created a damnatory piece of evidence +against himself by lifting the post funds; that in itself would bear +witness to the truth of our story. It might take the authorities a while +to get the proper focus on the tangle, but we could stand that, seeing +that we had won against staggering odds.</p> + +<p>From the mouth of Sage Creek to Fort Walsh it is a fraction over fifty +miles, across comparatively flat country. By the time our breakfast was +done we calculated it to be ten o'clock. We had the half of a long +mid-summer day to make it. So, partly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> because we might find the full +fifty miles an ash-strewn waste, fodderless, blackened, where an +afternoon halt would be a dreary sojourn, and partly for the sake of the +three good horses we had pushed so unmercifully through the early hours +of the night, we laid on the grassy river-bottom till noon. Then we +packed, placed the sullen captives in the saddle with hands lashed +stoutly, mounted our horses and recrossed the river. Once on the uplands +we struck the long trot—eight hours of daylight to make fifty miles. +And we made it.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> + +<h3>THE PIPE OF PEACE.</h3> + + +<p>Twenty minutes after the sunset gun awoke the echoes along Battle Creek +we slipped quietly into Fort Walsh and drew rein before the official +quarters of the officer of the day; a stiffened, saddle-weary group, +grimy with the sooty ash of burned prairies. From the near-by barracks +troopers craned through windows, and gathered in doorways. For a moment +I thought the office was deserted, but before we had time to dismount, +the captain ranking next to Lessard appeared from within, and behind him +came a medium-sized man, gray-haired and pleasant of countenance, at +sight of whom MacRae straightened in his saddle with a stifled +exclamation and repeated the military salute.</p> + +<p>The captain stared in frank astonishment as MacRae got stiffly out of +his saddle and helped Lyn to the ground. Then he snapped out some sharp +ques<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>tion, but the gray-haired one silenced him with a gesture.</p> + +<p>"Softly, softly, Stone," he said. "Let the man explain voluntarily."</p> + +<p>"Beg to report, sir," MacRae began evenly, "that we have captured the +men who robbed Flood, murdered those two miners, and held up the +paymaster. Also that we have recovered all the stolen money."</p> + +<p>"What sort of cock-and-bull story is this?" Stone broke in angrily. +"Preposterous! Orderly, call——"</p> + +<p>"Easy, easy now, Captain Stone," the older man cut in sharply. "A man +doesn't make a statement like that without some proof. By the way," he +asked abruptly, "how did you manage to elude Major Lessard and get in +here?"</p> + +<p>MacRae pointed to one of the horses. "We didn't elude him. You'll find +what's left of the black-hearted devil under that canvas," he answered +coolly. "Lessard was at the bottom of the crookedness. We've packed him +and Paul Gregory fifty miles for you to see."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ha!" the old fellow seemed not so surprised as I had expected. He +glanced over the lot of us and let another long-drawn "ha" escape.</p> + +<p>"May I ask a favor, Colonel Allen?" MacRae continued. "This lady has had +a hard day. Will you excuse her, for the present? We have a story to +tell that you may find hard to credit."</p> + +<p>The colonel (I'd heard of him before; I knew when MacRae spoke his name +that he was Commander-in-Chief of the Northwest Mounted Police, the +biggest gun of all) favored us with another appraising stare.</p> + +<p>"These men, I take it, are prisoners?" he said, pointing to Hicks and +Bevans.</p> + +<p>"You bet your sweet life them's prisoners," Piegan broke in with +cheerful assurance. "Them gentlemen is candidates for a rope necktie +apiece—nice perfessional assassins t' have in the Police!"</p> + +<p>Allen turned to the orderly. "A detail of four from the guardhouse on +the double-quick," he commanded.</p> + +<p>Captain Stone stood by gnawing his mustache<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> while Allen listened +unmoved as MacRae pointed out the horse on which was packed the bulk of +the loot, and gave him a brief outline of the abduction and the +subsequent fight at the mouth of Sage Creek. The orderly returned with +the detail, and Allen courteously sent him to escort Lyn to the +hospitality of Bat Perkins' wife, as MacRae asked. After which the guard +marshaled Piegan, MacRae, and me, along with Hicks and Bevans, into the +room where MacRae and Lessard had clashed that memorable day. Then they +carried in the two bodies and laid them on the floor, and last of all +the pack that held Hank Rowan's gold and the government currency.</p> + +<p>While this was being done an orderly flitted from house to house on +officers' row; the calm, pleasant-voiced, shrewd old Commissioner +gathered his captains about him for a semi-official hearing. The dusk +faded into night. Here and there about the post lights began to twinkle. +We stood about in the ante-room, silent under the vigilant eye of the +guard. After an uncertain period of waiting, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> orderly called "Gordon +MacRae," and the inquisition began.</p> + +<p>One at a time they put us on the rack—probing each man's story down to +the smallest detail. It was long after midnight when the questioning was +at an end. The finale came when a trooper searched the bodies of Lessard +and Gregory, and relieved Hicks and Bevans of the plunder that was still +concealed about their persons. They counted the money solemnly, on the +same desk by which Lessard stood when MacRae flung that hot challenge in +his teeth, and lost his stripes as the penalty. Outside, the wind arose +and whoo-<i>ee</i>-ed around the corner of the log building; inside, there +was a strained quiet, broken only by the occasional rattle of a loose +window, the steady chink—chink of coin slipping through fingers, the +crisp rustle of bills, like new silk. And when it was done Allen leaned +back in his chair, patting the arm of it with one hand, and surveyed the +neatly piled money and the three buckskin sacks on the desk before him. +Then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> he stood up, very erect and stern in the yellow lamplight.</p> + +<p>"Take those men to the guardhouse," he ordered curtly, pointing an +accusing finger at Hicks and Bevans. "Iron them securely—securely!"</p> + +<p>He turned to me. "I regret that it will be necessary for you to wait +some little time, Flood, before your money can be restored to you," he +said in a pleasanter tone. "There will be certain formalities to go +through, you understand. You will also be required as a witness at the +forthcoming trial. We shall be glad to furnish you and Smith with +comfortable quarters until then. It is late, but MacRae knows these +barracks, and doubtless he can find you a temporary sleeping place. +And, in conclusion, I wish to compliment all three of you on the +courage and resource you displayed in tracking down these damnable +scoundrels—<i>damnable</i> scoundrels."</p> + +<p>He fairly exploded that last phrase. I daresay it was something of a +blow to his pride in the Force to learn that such deviltry had actually +been fathered by one of his trusted officers; something the same<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> +sorrowful anger that stirs a man when one of his own kin goes wrong. +Then, as if he were half-ashamed of his burst of feeling, he dismissed +us with a wave of his hand and a gruff "That's all, to-night."</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>That practically was the finish of the thing. There was, of course, a +trial, at which Hicks and Bevans were convicted out of hand and duly +sentenced to be hung—a sentence that was carried out with neatness and +despatch in the near future. Also, I did manage, in the fullness of +time, to deliver La Pere's ten thousand dollars without further +gun-play.</p> + +<p>Colonel Allen knew a good man when he saw one—he was not long in +demonstrating that fact. When everything was straightened out, +MacRae—urged thereto by Lyn—made a straightforward request for +honorable discharge But he did not get it. Instead, the gray-haired +Commissioner calmly offered him promotion to an Inspectorship, which is +equivalent to the rank of a captain, and carries<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> pay of two thousand a +year. And MacRae, of course, accepted.</p> + +<p>The day he cast off the old red jacket of the rank and file and put on +the black uniform with braid looped back and forth across the front of +it, and gold hieroglyphics on the collar, Piegan Smith and I stood up +with him and Lyn and helped them get fitted to double harness. Not that +there was any lack of other folk; indeed, it seemed to me that the +official contingent of Fort Walsh had turned out en masse to attend the +ceremony. But Piegan and I were the star guests.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Ah, well, we can't always be young and full of the pure joy of living. +One must grow old. And inevitably one looks back with a pang, and sighs +for the vanished days. But Time keeps his scythe a-swinging, and we go +out—like a snuffed candle. We <i>lived</i>, though, we who frolicked along +the forty-ninth parallel when Civilization stood afar and viewed the +scene askance; but she came down upon us and took possession fast enough +when that wild<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> land was partly tamed, and now few are left of those who +knew and loved the old West, its perils, its hardships, its bigness of +heart and readiness of hand. Such of us as remain are like the buffalo +penned in national parks—a sorry remnant of the days that were.</p> + + +<h4>THE END.</h4> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Raw Gold, by Bertrand W. 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Sinclair + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Raw Gold + A Novel + +Author: Bertrand W. Sinclair + +Illustrator: Clarence H. Rowe + +Release Date: June 12, 2006 [EBook #18563] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RAW GOLD *** + + + + +Produced by Suzanne Shell, Janet Blenkinship and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + [Illustration: HICKS DREW HIS AND SLAPPED ME OVER THE HEAD WITH IT, EVEN + AS MY FINGER CURLED ON THE TRIGGER. + + _Frontispiece. Page 161._] + + + + + RAW GOLD + + A NOVEL + + BY + + BERTRAND W. SINCLAIR + + _Illustrations by_ + CLARENCE H. ROWE + + G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY + PUBLISHERS NEW YORK + + Copyright, 1907, by + STREET & SMITH + + Copyright, 1908, by + G. W. DILLINGHAM COMPANY + + Issued June, 1908 + + _Raw Gold_ + + + + + CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + + I. The Long Arm of the Law 7 + + II. A Reminiscent Hour 18 + + III. Birds of Prey 30 + + IV. A Tale Half Told 59 + + V. Mounted Again 50 + + VI. Stony Crossing 58 + + VII. Thirty Days in Irons 69 + + VIII. Lyn 85 + + IX. An Idle Afternoon 103 + + X. The Vanishing Act, and the Fruits Thereof 116 + + XI. The Gentleman Who Rode in the Lead 130 + + XII. We Lose Again 146 + + XIII. Outlawed 163 + + XIV. A Close Call 179 + + XV. Piegan Takes a Hand 197 + + XVI. In the Camp of the Enemy 214 + + XVII. A Master-stroke of Villainy 226 + + XVIII. Honor Among Thieves 240 + + XIX. The Bison 251 + + XX. The Mouth of Sage Creek 258 + + XXI. An Elemental Ally 271 + + XXII. Speechless Hicks 283 + + XXIII. The Spoils of War 294 + + XXIV. The Pipe of Peace 303 + + + + + ILLUSTRATIONS + PAGE + + Hicks drew his and slapped me over the head with it, even as my + finger curled on the trigger Frontispiece 161 + + Bedded in the soft earth underneath lay the slim buckskin sacks 159 + + "There's been too much blood shed over that wretched gold already. + Let them have it" 212 + + A war for the open road against an enemy whose only weapon was + his unswerving bulk 256 + + + + +RAW GOLD. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE LONG ARM OF THE LAW. + + +How many of us, I wonder, can look back over the misty, half-forgotten +years and not see a few that stand out clear and golden, sharp-cut +against the sky-line of memory? Years that we wish we could live again, +so that we might revel in every full-blooded hour. For we so seldom get +the proper focus on things until we look at them through the clarifying +telescope of Time; and then one realizes with a pang that he can't +back-track into the past and take his old place in the passing show. + +Would we, if we could? It's an idle question, I know; wise men and musty +philosophers say that regrets are foolish. But I speak for myself only +when I say that I would gladly wheedle old, gray-bearded _Tempus_ into +making the wheels click backward till I could see again the +buffalo-herds darkening the green of Northwestern prairies. They and the +blanket Indian have passed, and the cowpuncher and Texas longhorns that +replaced them will soon be little more than a vivid memory. Already the +man with the plow is tearing up the brown sod that was a stamping-ground +for each in turn; the wheat-fields have doomed the sage-brush, and +truck-farms line the rivers where the wild cattle and the elk came down +to drink. + +It was a big life while it lasted--primitive, exhilarating, spiced with +dangers that added zest to the game; the petty, sordid things of life +only came in on the iron trail. There was no place for them in the old +West, the dead-and-gone West that will soon be forgotten. + +I expect nearly everybody between the Arctic Circle and the Isthmus of +Panama has heard more or less of the Northwest Mounted Police. They're +changing with the years, like everything else in this one-time buffalo +country, but when Canada sent them out to keep law and order in a +territory that was a City of Refuge for a lot of tough people who had +played their string out south of the line, they were, as a dry old +codger said about the Indian as a scalp-lifter, naturally fitted for the +task. And it was no light task, then, for six hundred men to keep the +peace on a thousand miles of frontier. + +It doesn't seem long ago, but it was in '74 that they filed down the +gangway of a Missouri River boat, walking as straight and stiff as if +every mother's son of them had a ramrod under his tunic, and out on a +rickety wharf that was groaning under the weight of a king's ransom in +baled buffalo-hides. + +"Huh!" old Piegan Smith grunted in my ear. "Look at 'em, with their +solemn faces. There'll be heaps uh fun in the Cypress Hills country when +they get t' runnin' the whisky-jacks out. Ain't they a queer-lookin' +bunch?" + +They were a queer-looking lot to more than Piegan. Their uniforms fitted +as if they had grown into them; scarlet jackets buttoned to the throat, +black riding-breeches with a yellow stripe running down the outer seam +of each leg, and funny little round caps like the lid of a big +baking-powder can set on one side of their heads, held there by a narrow +strap that ran around the chin. But for all their comic-opera get-up, +there was many a man that snickered at them that day in Benton who +learned later to dread the flash of a scarlet jacket on the distant +hills. + +They didn't linger long at Benton, but got under way and marched +overland to the Cypress Hills. On Battle Creek they built the first +post, Fort Walsh, and though in time they located others, Walsh remained +headquarters for the Northwest so long as buffalo-hunting and the Indian +trade endured. And Benton and Walsh were linked together by great +freight-trails thereafter, for the Mounted Police supplies came up the +Missouri and traveled by way of long bull-trains to their destination; +there was no other way then; Canada was a wilderness, and Benton with +its boats from St. Louis was the gateway to the whole Northwest. + +Two years from the time Fort Walsh was built the La Pere outfit sent me +across the line in charge of a bunch of saddle-horses the M. P. +quartermaster had said he'd buy if they were good. I turned them over +the afternoon I reached Walsh, and inside of forty-eight hours I was +headed home with the sale-money--ten thousand dollars--in big bills, so +that I could strap it round my middle. I remember that on the hill south +of the post the three of us, two horse-wranglers and myself, flipped a +dollar to see whether we kept to the Assiniboine trail or struck across +country. It was a mighty simple transaction, but it produced some +startling results for me, that same coin-spinning. The eagle came +uppermost, and the eagle meant the open prairie for us. So we aimed for +Stony Crossing, and let our horses jog; there were three of us, well +mounted, and we had plenty of grub on a pack-horse; it seemed that our +homeward trip should be a pleasant jaunt. It certainly never entered my +head that I should soon have ample opportunity to see how high the +"Riders of the Plains" stacked up when they undertook to enforce +Canadian law and keep intact the peace and dignity of the Crown. + +We had started early that morning, and by the time we thought of camping +for dinner we saw ahead of us what we could tell was a white man's camp. +It wasn't far, so we kept on, and presently it developed that we had +accidentally come upon old Piegan Smith. He was lying there ostensibly +resting his stock from the hard buffalo-running of the past winter, but +I knew the old rascal's horses were more weary from a load of moonshine +whisky they had lately jerked into the heart of the territory. But he +was there, anyway, and half a dozen choice spirits with him, and when +we'd said "Howdy" all around they proceeded to spring a keg of whisky on +us. + +Now, the whole Northwest groaned beneath a cast-iron prohibition law at +that time, and for some years thereafter. No booze of any description +was supposed to be sold in that portion of the Queen's domain. If you +got so thirsty you couldn't stand it any longer, you could petition the +governing power of the Territory for what was known as a "permit," which +same document granted you leave and license to have in your possession +one gallon of whisky. If you were a person of irreproachable character, +and your humble petition reached his excellency when he was amiably +disposed, you might, in the course of a few weeks, get the desired +permission--but, any way you figured it, whisky was hard to get, and +when you got it it came mighty high. + +Naturally, that sort of thing didn't appeal to many of the +high-stomached children of fortune who ranged up and down the +Territory--being nearly all Americans, born with the notion that it is a +white man's incontestable right to drink whatever he pleases whenever it +pleases him. Consequently, every mother's son of them who knew how +rustled a "worm," took up his post in some well-hidden coulee close to +the line, and inaugurated a small-sized distillery. Others, with less +skill but just as much ambition, delivered it in four-horse loads to +the traders, who in turn "boot-legged" it to whosoever would buy. Some +of them got rich at it, too; which wasn't strange, when you consider +that everybody had a big thirst and plenty of money to gratify it. I've +seen barrels of moonshine whisky, so new and rank that two drinks of it +would make a jack-rabbit spit in a bull-dog's face, sold on the quiet +for six and seven dollars a quart--and a twenty-dollar gold piece was +small money for a gallon. + +All this, of course, was strictly against the peace and dignity of the +powers that were, and so the red-coated men rode the high divides with +their eagle eye peeled for any one who looked like a whisky-runner. And +whenever they did locate a man with the contraband in his possession, +that gentleman was due to have his outfit confiscated and get a chance +to ponder the error of his ways in the seclusion of a Mounted Police +guardhouse if he didn't make an exceedingly fast getaway. + +We all took a drink when these buffalo-hunters produced the "red-eye." +So far as the right or wrong of having contraband whisky was concerned, +I don't think any one gave it a second thought. The patriarchal decree +of the government was a good deal of a joke on the plains, +anyway--except when you were caught defying it! Then Piegan Smith set +the keg on the ground by the fire where everybody could help himself as +he took the notion, and I laid down by a wagon while dinner was being +cooked. + +After six weeks of hard saddle-work, it struck me just right to lie +there in the shade with a cool breeze fanning my face, and before long I +was headed smoothly for the Dreamland pastures. I hadn't dozed very long +when somebody scattered my drowsiness with an angry yelp, and I raised +up on one elbow to see what was the trouble. + +Most of the hunters were bunched on one side of the fire, and they were +looking pretty sour at a thin, trim-looking Mounted Policeman who was +standing with his back to me, holding the whisky-keg up to his nose. A +little way off stood his horse, bridle-reins dragging, surveying the +little group with his ears pricked up as if he, too, could smell the +whisky. The trooper sniffed a moment and set the keg down. + +"Gentlemen," he asked, in a soft, drawly voice that had a mighty +familiar note that puzzled me, "have you a permit to have whisky in your +possession?" + +Nobody said a word. There was really nothing they could say. He had them +dead to rights, for it was smuggled whisky, and they knew that policeman +was simply asking as a matter of form, and that his next move would be +to empty the refreshments on the ground; if they got rusty about it he +_might_ haze the whole bunch of us into Fort Walsh--and that meant each +of us contributing a big, fat fine to the Queen's exchequer. + +"You know the law," he continued, in that same mild tone. "Where is your +authority to have this stuff?" + +Then the clash almost came. If old Piegan Smith hadn't been sampling the +contents of that keg so industriously he would never have made a break. +For a hot-tempered, lawless sort of an old reprobate, he had good +judgment, which a man surely needed if he wanted to live out his +allotted span in the vicinity of the forty-ninth parallel those troubled +days. But he'd put enough of the fiery stuff under his belt to make him +touchy as a parlor-match, and when the trooper, getting no answer, +flipped the keg over on its side and the whisky trickled out among the +grass-roots, Piegan forgot that he was in an alien land where the law is +upheld to the last, least letter and the arm of it is long and +unrelenting. + +"Here's my authority, yuh blasted runt," he yelled, and jerked his +six-shooter to a level with the policeman's breast. "Back off from that +keg, or I'll hang your hide to dry on my wagon-wheel in a holy minute!" + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +A REMINISCENT HOUR. + + +The policeman's shoulders stiffened, and he put one foot on the keg. He +made no other move; but if ever a man's back was eloquent of +determination, his was. From where I lay I could see the fingers of his +left hand shut tight over his thumb, pressing till the knuckles were +white and the cords in the back of his hand stood out in little ridges. +I'd seen _that_ before, and I recalled with a start when and where I'd +heard that soft, drawly voice. I knew I wasn't mistaken in the man, +though his face was turned from me, and I likewise knew that old Piegan +Smith was nearer kingdom come than he'd been for many a day, if he did +have the drop on the man with the scarlet jacket. He was holding his +pistol on a double back-action, rapid-fire gun-fighter, and only the +fact that Piegan was half drunk and the other performing an impersonal +duty had so far prevented the opening of a large-sized package of +trouble. While on the surface Smith had all the best of it, he needed +that advantage, and more, to put himself on an even footing with Gordon +MacRae in any dispute that had to be arbitrated with a Colt; for MacRae +was the cool-headed, virile type of man that can keep his feet and burn +powder after you've planted enough lead in his system to sink him in +swimming water. + +There was a minute of nasty silence. Smith glowered behind his cocked +pistol, and the policeman faced the frowning gun, motionless, waiting +for the flutter of Piegan's eye that meant action. The gurgling keg was +almost empty when he spoke again. + +"Don't be a fool, Smith," he said quietly. "You can't buck the whole +Force, you know, even if you managed to kill me. You know the sort of +orders we have about this whisky business. Put up your gun." + +Piegan heard him, all right, but his pistol never wavered. His thin +lips were pinched close, so tight the scrubby beard on his chin stood +straight out in front; his chest was heaving, and the angry blood stood +darkly red under his tanned cheeks. Altogether, he looked as if his +trigger finger might crook without warning. It was one of those long +moments that makes a fellow draw his breath sharp when he thinks about +it afterward. If any one had made an unexpected move just then, there +would have been sudden death in that camp. And while the lot of us sat +and stood about perfectly motionless, not daring to say a word one way +or the other, lest the wrathful old cuss squinting down the gun-barrel +_would_ shoot, the policeman took his foot off the empty cause of the +disturbance, and deliberately turning his back on Piegan's leveled +six-shooter, walked calmly over to his waiting horse. + +Smith stared after him, frankly astonished. Then he lowered his gun. +"The nerve uh the darned----Say! don't go off mad," he yelled, his anger +evaporating, changing on the instant to admiration for the other's +cold-blooded courage. "Yuh spilled all the whisky, darn yuh--but then I +guess yuh don't know any better'n t' spoil good stuff that away. No hard +feelin's, anyhow. Stop an' eat dinner with us, an' we'll call it +square." + +The policeman withdrew his foot from the stirrup and smiled at Piegan +Smith, and Piegan, to show that his intentions were good, impulsively +unbuckled his cartridge-belt and threw belt and six-shooters on the +ground. + +"I don't hanker for trouble with a _hombre_ like you," he grunted. "I +guess I was a little bit hasty, anyhow." + +"I call you," the policeman said, and stripping the saddle and bridle +from his sweaty horse, turned him loose to graze. + +"Hello, Mac!" I hailed, as he walked up to the fire. He turned at the +sound of my voice with vastly more concern than he'd betrayed under the +muzzle of Piegan's gun. + +"Sarge himself!" he exclaimed. "Beats the devil how old trails cross, +eh?" + +"It sure does," I retorted, and our hands met. + +He sat down beside me and began to roll a cigarette. You wouldn't call +that a very demonstrative greeting between two old _amigos_ who'd bucked +mesquite and hair-lifting Comanches together, all over the Southwest. It +had been many a moon since we took different roads, but MacRae hadn't +changed that I could see. That was his way--he never slopped over, no +matter how he felt. If ever a mortal had a firm grip on his emotions, +MacRae had, and yet there was a sleeping devil within him that was never +hard to wake. But his looks gave no hint of the real man under the +surface placidity; you'd never have guessed what possibilities lay +behind that immobile face, with its heavy-lashed hazel eyes and plain, +thin-lipped mouth that tilted up just a bit at the corners. We had +parted in the Texas Panhandle five years before--an unexpected, +involuntary separation that grew out of a poker game with a tough crowd. +The tumultuous events of that night sent me North in undignified haste, +for I am not warlike by nature, and Texas was no longer healthy for me +unless I cared to follow up a bloody feud. But I'd left Mac a +trail-boss for the whitest man in the South, likewise engaged to the +finest girl in any man's country; and it's a far cry from punching cows +in Texas to wearing the Queen's colors and keeping peace along the +border-line. I knew, though, that he'd tell me the how and why of it in +his own good time, if he meant that I should know. + +One or two of the buffalo-hunters exchanged words with us while Mac was +building his cigarette and lighting it. Old Piegan stretched himself in +the grass, and in a few moments was snoring energetically, his grizzled +face bared to the cloudless sky. The camp grew still, except for the +rough and ready cook pottering about the fire, boiling buffalo-meat and +mixing biscuit-dough. The fire crackled around the Dutch ovens, and the +odor of coffee came floating by. Then Mac hunched himself against a +wagon-wheel and began to talk. + +"I suppose it looks odd to you, Sarge, to see me in this rig?" he asked +whimsically. "It beats punching cows, though--that is, when a fellow +discovers that he isn't a successful cowpuncher." + +"Does it?" I returned dryly. "You were making good in the cow business +last time I saw you. What did you see in the Mounted Police that took +your fancy?" + +He shrugged his shoulders philosophically. "They're making history in +this neck of the woods," he said, "and I joined for lack of something +better to do. You'll find us a cosmopolitan lot, and not bad specimens +as men go. It's a tolerably satisfying life--once you get out of the +ranks." + +"How about that?" I queried; and as I asked the question I noticed for +the first time the gilt bars on his coat sleeve. "You've got past the +buck trooper stage then? How long have you been in the force?" + +"Joined the year they took over the Territory," he replied. "Yes, I've +prospered in the service. Got to be a sergeant; I'm in charge of a +line-post on Milk River--Pend d' Oreille. You'd better come on over and +stay with me a day or two, Sarge." + +"I was heading in that direction," I answered, "only I expected to cross +the river farther up. But, man, I never thought to see you up here. I +thought you'd settled down for keeps; supposed you were playing +major-domo for the Double R down on the Canadian River, and the father +of a family by this time. How we do get switched around in this old +world." + +"Don't we, though," he said reflectively. "It's a great game. You never +know when nor where your trail is liable to fork and lead you to new +countries and new faces, or maybe plumb over the big divide. Oh, well, +it'll be all the same a hundred years from now, as Bill Frayne used to +say." + +"You've turned cynic," I told him, and he smiled. + +"No," he declared, "I rather think I'd be classed as a philosopher; if +you could call a man a philosopher who can enjoy hammering over this +bald country, chasing up whisky-runners and hazing non-treaty Indians +onto reservations, and raising hell generally in the name of the law. +Still, I don't take life as seriously as I used to. What's the use? We +eat and drink and sleep and work and fight because it's the nature of us +two-legged brutes; but there's no use getting excited about it, because +things never turn out exactly the way you expect them to, anyhow." + +"If that's your philosophy of life," I bantered, "you ought to make a +rattling good policeman. I can see where a calm, dispassionate front +would save a man a heap of trouble, at this sort of thing." + +"Josh all you like," MacRae laughed, "but I tell you a man does save +himself a heap of trouble when he doesn't get too anxious whether things +come out just as he wants them to or not. Six or seven years ago I +couldn't have done this sort of work. I've changed, I reckon. There was +a time when I'd have felt that there was only one way to settle a row +like I just had. And the chances are that I would have wound up by +putting that old boy's light out. Which wouldn't have helped matters any +for me, and certainly would have been tough on old Piegan Smith--who +happens to be a pretty fair sort; only playing the opposite side of the +game." + +As if the low-spoken sound of his name had reached his ears and +electrified him, Piegan sat up very suddenly, and at the same instant +the cook sounded the long call. So we broke off our chat, and getting a +tin plate and cup and a set of eating-implements, we helped ourselves +from the Dutch ovens and squatted in the grass to eat. + +When we'd finished, one of the hunters rounded up the horses and we +caught our nags and saddled them. MacRae was going back to his post that +night, and I also was in haste to be traveling--that ten thousand +dollars of another man's money was a responsibility I wanted to be rid +of without the least possible delay. Pend d' Oreille was twenty-five or +thirty miles south of us--a long afternoon's ride, but MacRae and I were +glad of each other's company, and it was worth while straining a point +to have even one night's shelter at a Police camp in that semi-hostile +country. There were no road-agents to speak of, for sums of money large +enough to tempt gentry of that ilk seldom passed over those isolated +trails; but here and there stray parties of Stonies and Blackfeet, young +bucks in war-paint and breech-clout, hot on the trail of their first +medicine, skulked warily among the coulee-scarred ridges, keeping in +touch with the drifting buffalo-herds and alert for a chance to ambush a +straggling white man and lift his hair. They weren't particularly +dangerous, except to a lone man, still there was always the chance of +running slap into them, in which case they usually made a more or less +vigorous attempt to wipe you out. A red coat, however, was a passport to +safety; even so early in the game the copper-colored brother had learned +that the Mounted Police were a hard combination--an enemy who never +turned back when he took the war-trail. + +When we were mounted Mac leaned over and muttered an admonitory word for +Piegan's ear alone. "Better lay low, Smith," he said, "and let the +boot-leggers go it on their own hook for a while. We are watching for +you. It's only a matter of time till somebody takes you in, because your +whisky is making lots of nasty work for us these days, and we've got +orders from the big chief to nail you if there's a show. I'm passing up +this little affair to-day. That doesn't count. But the next time you +cross the river with a four-horse load of it I'll be on you like a wolf. +If I don't, some other fellow will. _Sabe?_ Think it over." + +Smith bit off a huge chew of tobacco, while he digested MacRae's +warning. Then he looked up with a smile that broadened to a grin. +"You're all right," he said cheerfully. "I like your style. If I get the +worst of the deal, I won't holler. So-long!" + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +BIRDS OF PREY. + + +Once clear of the buffalo-hunters' camp, MacRae and I paired off and +speedily began to compare notes, where we had been, what we had done, +how the world had used us in the five years since we had seen each other +last. And although we gabbled freely enough, MacRae avoided all mention +of the persons of whom I most wished to hear. I didn't press him, for I +knew that something out of the common must have happened, else he would +not have been wearing the Queen's scarlet, and I didn't care to bring up +a subject that might prove a sore one with him. But men we had known and +trails we had followed furnished us plenty of grist for the +conversational mill. Our talk ranged from the Panhandle to the Canada +line, while our horses jogged steadily southward. + +Dark came down on the four of us as we topped Manyberries Ridge, and +seven or eight miles of rolling prairie still lay between us and +Pend d' Oreille. If Mac had been alone he would have made the post by +sundown, for the Mounted Police rode picked horses, the best money could +buy. But it was a long jaunt to Benton, and the rest of us were inclined +to an easier pace, that we might husband the full strength of our +grass-fed mounts for any emergency that should arise on the way. + +With the coming of night a pall of clouds blew out of the west, +blanketing the stars and shutting off their hazy light completely, and +when the sky was banked full from horizon to horizon, the dark enveloped +us like a black sea-mist. Once or twice we startled a little bunch of +buffalo, and listened to the thud of their hoofs as they fled through +the sultry, velvet gloom; but for the most our ride was attended by no +sounds save the night song of frogs in the upland sloughs and the hollow +clank of steel bits keeping time to the creak of saddle-leather. + +Halfway down the long slope MacRae and I, riding in the lead, pulled up +to make a cigarette on the brink of a straight-walled coulee that we +could sense but not see. As I waited for Mac to strike a match my eyes +roved about, seeking to pierce the unnatural blackness that wrapped +itself about us, and while my gaze was for an instant fixed on the +night-enshrouded canyon, a red tongue of flame flashed out for a moment +in the inky shadow below. MacRae saw it also, and held the match +unstruck. + +"Must be somebody camped down there," I hazarded. + +"A camp-fire would hardly flash and die out like that, Sarge," he +answered thoughtfully. "At least, not an ordinary one. There are some +folk in this country, you know, who manifest a very retiring disposition +at times. That looks to me like a blind fire or a signal. Let's wait a +minute." + +We sat there on our horses, grouped close together, a minute that +lengthened to five; then MacRae broke off in the middle of a sentence as +the flare leaped up, flickered an instant, and was blotted out again. I +could have sworn I heard a cry, and one of my men spoke in a tone that +assured me my imagination had not been playing a trick. + +"Hear that?" he asked eagerly. "Somebody hollered down there." + +"I don't much like that," MacRae said, in a low tone. "I have a hunch +that something crooked is going on, and I reckon I'll go down and see +what that fire means. You fellows better go a little farther and wait +for me." + +"Not on your life," I protested. "You might run into most any kind of +formation. We'll go in a bunch, if we go at all." + +"Might be Injuns," Bruce Haggin put in. "An', anyhow, whatever play +comes up, four men's a heap better'n one. If you're bound t' mix in, +why, lead the way. I'm kinda curious about what's down there m'self." + +So near to the post it was that MacRae almost knew the feel of the +ground underfoot. He led us a hundred yards along the rim of the bank +and stopped again. + +"This is as good a place as any, but you'll have to get down and lead +your horses," he warned. "It's a devil of a scramble from here to the +bottom." + +We dismounted, and speedily found that MacRae hadn't exaggerated the +evil qualities of that descent. If there had been boulders on that +hillside the noise of our coming would have alarmed a deaf man; but the +soft dirt and slippery grass gave out no sound, though we slid and +tumbled and dug in our heels for a foothold till the sweat streamed down +our cheeks. + +At the bottom we mounted again and followed MacRae in a cautious file +around clumps of willow and rustling quaking-asp to the place where the +blaze should have shown. But no glint of fire appeared in any direction; +the coulee-bottom lay more dark and silent, if that were possible, than +the gloomy hills above. Perplexed, MacRae halted, and we bunched +together, whispering, each of us straining his eyes and ears to catch +some sight or sound of life in that black, ghostly quiet. We might have +concluded that our senses had been playing pranks at our expense, that +the flame we had seen from the ridge was purely an imaginary thing, but +for the rank, unmistakable odor of burning wood--a smell no man bred in +a land of camp-fires can mistake. We were near it, wherever it was, but +how near we had no means of knowing. + +After a bit of waiting, Mac decided that the smoke was floating from a +certain direction, and we began to edge carefully that way. Presently we +circled a clump of brush, to come near riding right into a banked fire, +barely visible, even at short range, under its covering of earth. A +dimly outlined bulk lay beside it, and leaning over in our saddles, the +faint glow of the coals revealed a man's body, half stripped of its +clothing, and--oh, well, such things are so utterly devilish you +wouldn't credit it. It's bad enough to kill, even when it's necessary; +but I never could understand how a white man could take a leaf out of +the Indian's torture-book. + +The fire had been heaped over with earth--to screen it from prying eyes, +I suppose, while the good work went on. We got off our horses and +stooped over the man, forgetting for the moment that danger might lurk +in the surrounding thicket. Mac swore under his breath when he bent and +peered keenly at the man's face; then he straightened up and kicked a +part of the clay covering from the smoldering embers. As the bright glow +of a little cascade of sparks pierced the darkness, a voice in our rear +called sharply: "Hands up!" and we swung round to behold two masked +faces regarding us from behind steadily held Winchesters. + +The very suddenness of the hold-up made it a complete success. Apart, +and moving, we might have scattered in the brush like young quail, and +so have been able to give the gentlemen a hard run for the money. But we +were bunched together, shocked out of all caution, staring at the +pitiful figure at our feet when MacRae unmasked the fire, and the flare +of it surrounded us with a yellow nimbus that made us fair marks for a +gun. With that dazzling light in our eyes and those ugly-looking +customers at the business end of the guns, it would have been out and +out suicide to reach for a six-shooter. For at that period in +Northwestern history, when a man had the drop on you under such +conditions, there was absolutely no question of what would happen if you +made a suspicious move. We were fairly caught, and there was nothing to +do but elevate our digits and paw the air as commanded. + +It took one of those Western Turpins about a minute to relieve us of our +artillery, after which he silently proceeded to lead our horses out of +sight. When he did that I began to hope the horses were all they wanted, +that they had no knowledge of the money I carried; but my hopes died an +early death, for he was back in a moment, and the man behind the gun +indicated me with a motion of the Winchester. + +"That long, stoop-shouldered gazabo's got the stuff on him," he growled. + +There was half a second when I entertained a wild notion of getting +fractious. A fellow hates to make a bungle of the first decent trust +he's had in a long time; but I was in a tight place, and I couldn't +figure where I'd delay giving up beyond the length of time it would take +the gentleman with the Winchester to drill me. Under the circumstances +it didn't take long to decide that it was a heap better all around to be +robbed alive than dead--they'd get the money anyway, and if I got myself +shot up to no purpose that would spoil all chance of getting back at +them later. + +The silent partner wasted no time in fruitless search of my person. He +seemed to know right where to look, which was another feature of the +play that I didn't _sabe_ at the time. He reached down inside my shirt, +with a none too gentle hand, and relieved me of the belt that held the +money. Then the pair of them backed up, still covering us, and faded +away in the gloom. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +A TALE HALF TOLD. + + +When they were gone we let our hands down to their natural level and +drew a long breath. + +"We appear to have got considerably the worst of this transaction," I +observed. "The La Pere outfit is shy something like ten thousand +dollars--we're afoot, minus everything but cigarette material. It's a +wonder they didn't take that, too. A damn good stroke of business, all +right," I finished, feeling mighty sore at myself. When it was too late, +I could think of half a dozen ways we might have avoided getting held +up. + +"I got you into it, too," MacRae said calmly. "But don't get excited and +run on the rope this early in the game, Sarge; you'll only throw +yourself. Brace up. We've been in worse holes before." Never a word of +what it might mean to him; never even hinted that the high moguls at +Fort Walsh were more than likely to put him on the rack for letting any +such lawless work be carried out successfully, in his own district. A +Mounted Policeman can make no excuses for letting a tough customer slip +through his fingers; the only way he can escape censure is to be brought +in feet first. + +He motioned to the poor devil lying by the fire. + +"Look at him, Sarge," he went on, in a different tone. "You always had a +pretty good memory for faces. So have I, for that matter, but--go +ahead--look." + +I bent over the man, looked closely at the still features, dropped on +one knee and turned his face toward the firelight to make sure. I +recognized him instantly, and I knew that MacRae had no doubts of his +identity, for each of us had broken bread and slept in the same blankets +with that quiet figure. + +"It's Rutter," I whispered, and MacRae nodded silently. + +"He's done for, too--no, by God, he isn't!" I cried, and shrank +involuntarily, for his eyeballs rolled till only the whites showed in a +way that made me shudder. "He's not dead, yet, Mac!" + +"One of you fellows get some water," Mac commanded. He squatted beside +me, holding up Rutter's head. In a minute Bruce was back with his hat +full of water from the creek that whimpered just beyond the willow +patch. I peeled off my coat and spread it over the marred limbs, and +Bruce held the water so that I could dip in my hand and sprinkle +Rutter's face. After a little his mouth began to twitch. Queer gurgling +sounds issued from his throat. He moved his head slightly, looking from +me to MacRae. Presently he recognized us both; his face brightened. + +"Gimme a drink," he whispered huskily. + +Mac propped him up so that he could sip from the hat. He came near going +off again, but rallied, and in a second or two his lips framed a +question: + +"Did yuh--get 'em?" + +I shook my head. "You might say that they got us," I answered. + +"Who were they, Hans?" MacRae questioned eagerly. "And why did they do +this to you? We'll make them sweat blood for this night's work. Did you +know them? Tell us if you can." + +"No," Rutter spoke with a great effort. Each sentence came as if torn +piecemeal from his unwilling tongue; short, jerky phrases, conceived in +pain and delivered in agony. "We--me'n Hank Rowan--comin' from the +North--made a stake on the Peace. They started it--at the Stone--yuh +know--Writin'-Stone. Hank an' me--you'll find Hank in the +cottonwoods--Stony Crossin'. I tried--tried t' make Walsh. Two of +'em--masked--tried t' make me tell--tell 'em--where we made the _cache_. +I'm--I'm done--I guess. The dust, it's--it's--_a-a-ah_----" + +The gnarled hands shut up into clenched fists, and the feeble voice +trailed off in an agonized moan. + +I laved his pain-twisted face with the cool water and let a few drops +trickle into his open mouth. He gasped a few times, then, gathering +strength again, went on with that horrible spasmodic recitation. + +"They were after us--a long time. Lyn's at Walsh. There's a--a good +stake. Get it--for her. It's _cached_--under the Stone--yuh +know--Writin'-Stone. Three sacks. That's what--they wanted. +You'll--you'll--on the rock above--marked--gold--raw gold--that's +it--gold--raw gold--Mac--I want--I want----" + +That was all. The tense muscles relaxed. His head fell back limp on +MacRae's arm, and the rest of the message went with the game old +Dutchman across the big divide. We laid him down gently, folded his arms +on his breast, and for a moment held our peace in tribute to his +passing. + +MacRae was first to speak. + +"There's a lot back of this that I can't understand," he said, more to +himself than to the rest of us. "It beats me why these two old cowmen +should be here in this country, tangled up with buried gold-dust, and +being hunted like beasts for its possession. Old Hans was certainly in +his right mind or he wouldn't have known us; and if he told us right, +Hank Rowan has been murdered too. If Lyn is at Walsh, she may be able to +shed some light on this. But I'll swear I feel like a man groping in a +dark room." + +"If Lyn is at Walsh," I asserted stoutly, "she got there since I left +this morning. I was there two days, and I wasn't in the background by +any means; and she's the sort of girl that isn't backward about hailing +a friend. We know one thing--the men that killed Rutter are the ones +that held us up, and got off with that money of mine. And say--how did +those fellows know I had that money and where I was carrying it? Good +Lord! it sounds like the plot of a dime novel." + +It was a stubborn riddle for us to try and read. And our surroundings at +that particular moment were not the most favorable to coherent thought +or plausible theory-building. When a man has been robbed at the point of +a gun, and set afoot in the heart of an unpeopled waste, with a dead man +and a dying fire for company, his nerves are apt to get a little bit on +edge. Things that wouldn't tax your fortitude in daylight look like the +works of the devil when you have to face them in the black hours of the +night. None of us are so far removed from savagery that a few grains of +superstition don't lurk in our souls, all ready to bob up if the setting +is appropriate. If it should ever be my lot to take the Long Trail at +short notice, I hope it will be under a blue sky and a blazing sun. It +was hard to be philosophic, or even decently calm, standing there in the +sickly glow of the fading coals with old Hans mutely reminding us that +life is a tenuous thread, easily snipped. + +A little night breeze rustling the willows about us brought into my mind +the fact that our masked acquaintances could easily sneak up and pot us +if, as an afterthought, they decided to do a really workmanlike job. +Doubt it? Wasn't the dead man stretched in the shadow convincing proof +of their capacity for pure devilishness? Read the history of those days +along the line, and you'll turn some red pages. There were no half-way +measures in the code of an outlaw then; the pair who held us up would +have taken our lives as nonchalantly as they relieved us of our material +possessions had we proved in the least degree troublesome. + +I hinted what was in my mind to MacRae, and when he agreed that it was a +possible contingency, we filed out of the treacherous light and squatted +in the edge of a quaking-asp grove where we couldn't be seen, and where +a coyote, much less a man, couldn't steal up on us without the crackle +of dry brush betraying him. + +"What do you think you'll do, Sarge?" Mac whispered to me, while we sat +there undecided as to our next move. "Go on to Benton, or stay here on +the chance of breaking even?" + +"I've got to stick; it's the only thing I can do," I growled back. "I've +been sure enough whipsawed this deal, but I'm still in the game, and +when it comes to calling the last turn I'll be there with a stack of +blues. How in hell can I show my face in Benton while some other fellow +is packing the money La Pere trusted me to bring back? If I can rustle +horses I'll send these two boys on home, with a note to the old man +explaining how the play came up. If those jaspers flash any part of the +roll in the Territory before snowfall, I'll get them. I've got to get +them, to square myself." + +"That would be my idea, if I were in your place," he answered. "If +they're like the average run of men that turn a trick of that kind, +they'll give themselves away in the long run. It's lucky, in a way, that +you had paper money instead of gold; the big bills will be their +downfall if they undertake to spend them in this country--and if old +Hans had it straight, they're not going to pull out with a measly ten +thousand dollars. It's an ugly mess, and liable to be worse before it's +cleaned up. If there is a stake like that _cached_ around the Stone, +these land pirates will camp mighty close on the trail of anybody that +goes looking for it. And it won't be any Sunday-school picnic dealing +with them--they showed a strong hand there," he motioned to the place +where Rutter lay. + +"The best thing we can do," he continued, "is to drag it for Pend +d' Oreille, afoot. We have two extra horses there. We can get a little +sleep and move early in the morning. I'll have to report this thing in +person at Walsh, but before I do I want to know if Hank Rowan was really +killed at Stony Crossing. If we find him there as Rutter said, you can +gamble that trouble has camped in our dooryard for a lengthy stay. And +it might be a good idea for you to give your men a gentle hint to keep +their mouths closed about this affair--all of it. There's a slim chance +at the best of finding that gold, even if it's there, and it won't help +us nor the rest of the Force to run down the men who held us up, if +everybody on both sides of the line gets to talking about it." + +"I'll tell them," I agreed. "I reckon you have the right idea. I think +it's a cinch that if we land the men that set us afoot and got away with +the money, we'll have the cold-blooded brutes that put Hans Rutter's +light out. But I don't _sabe_, Mac, why those old-timers should be mixed +into a deal of this kind. Their cattle and range on the Canadian had a +gold-mine beat to death for money-making; old men like them don't jump +two thousand miles from home without mighty strong reasons." + +"They probably had, if we only knew," MacRae muttered. "I reckon we'd +better start; we can't do any good here." + +Mac led the way. The four of us slipped through the brushy bottom as +silently as men unaccustomed to walking might go, for we had no +hankering, unarmed as we were, to bring those red-handed marauders after +us again, if they happened to be lurking in that canyon. Rutter's body +we had no choice but to leave undisturbed by the blackening fire. In the +morning we would come back and bury him, but for that night--well, he +was beyond any man's power to aid or injure, lying there alone in the +dark. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +MOUNTED AGAIN. + + +We stumbled along, close up, for the thick-piled clouds still hung their +light-obscuring banners over the sky. Three yards apart we became +invisible to each other. I followed behind MacRae more or less +mechanically, though I was, in a way, acutely conscious of the necessity +for stealthy going, one part of my mind busy turning over the quick +march of events and guessing haphazard at the future. + +Striding along in this mental semi-detachment from the business in hand, +some three hundred yards down the coulee I tripped over a fallen +cottonwood and drove the point of a projecting limb clean through the +upper of my boot and into the calf of my leg--not a disabling wound, but +one that lacked nothing in the way of pain. The others stopped while I +pulled out the snag, which had broken off the trunk, and while I was +about this a familiar clattering noise uprose near-by. Ever hear a horse +shake himself, like a water-spaniel fresh from a dip, when he has been +tied for a long time in one place with the dead weight of a heavy stock +saddle on his back? There is a little by-play of grunting and clearing +of nostrils, then the slap of skirts and strings and stirrup-leathers--a +man never forgets or mistakes the sound of it, if he has ever slept in a +round-up camp with a dozen restless night-horses saddled and tied to a +wagon twenty feet from his bed. But it made us jump, welling up out of +the dark so unexpectedly and so near. + +"Saddle-horse--tied," Mac tersely commented. We squatted in the long +grass and buck-brush, listening, and a few seconds later heard a horse +snort distinctly. This sound was immediately followed by the steady beat +of an impatient forefoot. + +"Over yonder," I said. "And there's more than one, I think. Let's +investigate this. And we'd better not separate." + +Fifty yards to the left we struck a cottonwood grove, and in the outer +edge of it loomed the vague outline of a horse--when we were almost +within reaching-distance of him. I ran my hand over the saddle and knew +it instantly for Bruce Haggin's rig. A half-minute of quiet prowling +revealed our full quota of livestock, even to the pack-horse that bore +our beds and grub, each one tied hard and fast to a tree. Also our +six-shooters reposed in their scabbards, the four belts hooked over the +horn of MacRae's saddle. + +Maybe it didn't feel good to be on the hurricane deck of a good horse +once more! Whenever I have to walk any distance, I can always understand +why a horse-thief yields to temptation and finally becomes confirmed in +his habit. It was rather an odd thing for those outlaws to leave +everything, even to our guns, but I figured--and time proved the +correctness of my arithmetic--that they had bigger fish to fry. + +Once in the saddle, with the comfortable weight of a cartridge-belt +around each man's middle, we experienced a revulsion of feeling. Primed +for trouble if we could jump it out of the brush, we rode the bottom +for half an hour. But our men were gone. At least, we could not locate +them. So we took to the upland again and loped toward Pend d' Oreille. + +"I've been thinking it isn't so strange--those old fellows being in this +country--after all," Mac suddenly began, as we slowed our horses down to +take a hill. "I didn't remember at first, but two years ago, just after +I joined the Force, I ran across a bull-whacker on the Whoop Up trail, +and he told me that the Double R had closed out. He said Hank had got +into a ruction with Dick Feltz--you recollect there was considerable +feeling between them in our time down there--and killed him one day at +Fort Worth. Feltz had some folks that took it up, and Hank had to spend +a barrel of money to come clear. That, and a range war that grew out of +the killing, and some kind of a business deal just about broke them. +That's the way this fellow had it; said a trail-boss told him at +Ogalalla that spring. I didn't take much stock in the yarn at the time, +but I'm beginning to think he had it straight. You didn't hear anything +about it?" + +"Not a word; it's news to me," I said. "When I left that country I kept +moving north all the time. The last three years I've been in the Judith +Basin, and southern outfits haven't begun to come in there yet. So I +haven't had much chance to hear from that part of the world. But I'm +framing up my think-works so I won't be surprised at anything I see or +hear after to-night. How long since you left that country, Mac?" + +"Next spring after you did," he answered. "If they did go broke, I can +_sabe_ their being here. Rutter said, you know, that they'd made a stake +on the Peace--Peace River, I suppose he meant. There's been a lot of +placer mining in that north country the last three or four years. They +might have been up there and struck it good and plenty. They made their +start in the cow business off a placer in California, you know." + +I knew that, for Rowan often spoke of it. And granting that we had +surmised rightly, it required no vivid imagination to picture what +might happen to men crossing those wide prairies with a fortune in +yellow dust. But my imagination was hardly equal to the task of +reconciling the fact that the evil pair had been busy at other deviltry +and yet knew I carried a large sum of money and where it was concealed +about my person. That brought me back to something else Rutter had told +us; something that I knew--or thought I knew--touched MacRae very +closely. + +"Hans said Lyn was at Walsh," I remarked. "I don't think she was there, +this morning. But she might be due to arrive there. Hang it all, Mac, +what the dickens chased you away from the Canadian?" + +"Looking back, I can't just say what it was," he presently replied, in a +hard, matter-of-fact tone. "You see, one's feelings can change, Sarge. +It looks different to me now than it did then. I reckon I could have +written essays on the futility of sentiment, and the damned silliness of +a man who thinks he cares for a woman. But I'm past that stage. And so +I can't say for sure just how it was or why. Something came up between +me and Lyn--and I drifted, and kept drifting. Went through Colorado, +Wyoming, Montana; finally rambled here, and went into the Force +because--well, because a man with anything to him can go to the top. A +man must play at something, and this looked like a good game." + +There was a note of something that I'd never heard in MacRae's voice +before; neither bitterness nor anger nor sorrow nor lonesomeness, and +yet there was a hint of each, but so slight, so elusive I couldn't grasp +it. I remembered that the last sentence MacRae had spoken to me in the +South was a message to Lyn Rowan, a message that I never had the +pleasure of delivering, for my hasty flitting took me out other trails +than the one that led to the home ranch. And so they had parted--gone +different ways--probably in anger. Well, that's only another example of +the average human's cussedness. Lyn could be just as haughty as she was +sweet and gracious, which was natural enough, seeing she'd ruled a +cattle king and all his sunburned riders since she was big enough to +toddle alone; and Gordon MacRae wasn't the sort of man who would come to +heel at any woman's bidding--at least, he wasn't in the old days. Oh, I +could understand how it happened, all right. Each of them was chuck full +of that dubious sort of pride that has busted up more than one +love-_fiesta_. + +Neither of us spoke again, and at length the squat log buildings of Pend +d' Oreille loomed ahead of us in the night. Tired and hungry, we stabled +our horses, ate a bite, and rolled into bed. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +STONY CROSSING. + + +"There's Stony Crossing, Sarge; and over yonder, at the west end of that +blue ridge, is Writing-on-the-Stone." + +At the foot of the long slope on which we stood Milk River glinted in +the sunshine, deceptively beautiful--a shining example of the truth of +that old saw about distance lending enchantment, for, looking down on +the placid stream slipping smoothly along between fringes of scrubby +timber, one would never guess that miles and miles of hungry quick-sands +lined the river-edge, an unseen trap for the feet of the unwary. + +Stony Crossing I could see, even without Mac's guiding finger. The Whoop +Up trail, a brown streak against the vivid upland green, dipped down the +hillside to our right, down to the sage-grown flat, and into the river +by the great boulders that gave the ford its name. The blue ridge up +the river I gave scant heed to; the Writing-Stone was only a name to me, +for I'd never seen the place. My attention was all for the scene at +hand. The patch of soft green that I knew for the cottonwoods Rutter had +spoken of drew my roving gaze whether I would or no. I have ridden on +pleasanter missions than the one that took us to Stony Crossing that +day. + +"It's sure tough," I voiced a thought that had been running in my mind +all morning, "to think that a good old fellow like Hank Rowan has been +murdered and left to rot on the prairie like a skinned buffalo. Hanged +if I can make myself really believe we'll find him down there." + +"The more I think of it, the more I'm inclined to believe that we will," +MacRae answered evenly. "We'll know beyond a doubt in the next hour. So +we might as well go on." + +If I hadn't known him so well I might have thought he didn't care a damn +what we found at Stony Crossing, that he was as unmoved as the two +case-hardened troopers who rode with us. But that repression was just as +natural to him as emotional flare-ups are to some. Whatever he felt he +usually kept bottled up inside, no matter how it hurt. I never saw him +fly to pieces over anything. He was something of an anomaly to me, when +I first knew him. I was always so prone to do and say things according +to impulse that I thought him cold-blooded, a man without any particular +feeling except a certain pride in holding his own among his fellows. + +But I revised my opinion when I came to know him better. Under the +surface he was sensitive as a girl; one could wound him with a word or a +look. Paradoxically, he was absolutely cold-blooded toward a declared +enemy. He would fight fair, but without mercy. Side by side with the +sensitive soul of him, and hidden always under an impassive mask of +self-control, lay the battling spirit, an indomitable fighting streak; +it cropped out in a cool, calculating manner of taking desperate chances +when the sleeping devil in him was roused. He would sidestep +trouble--and one met the weeping damsel at many turns of the road in +those raw days--if he could do it without loss of self-respect; but the +man who stirred him up needlessly, or crowded him into retaliation, +always regretted it--when he had time to indulge in vain regrets. And +you can bet your last, lone _peso_, and consider it won, that MacRae +meant every word when he said to old Hans Rutter: "We'll make them sweat +blood for this." + +When we got down into the bottom Mac turned aside to the deep-worn trail +and glanced sharply down at the ruts. The dust in them lay smooth, and +the hoof-marks that showed were old and dim. + +"I wondered if there had been any freight teams pass lately," he +explained. "But there hasn't--not for a day or two, anyway. Let's look +in the timber." + +That was a long time ago, and since then I have seen much of life and +death in many countries, but I can recall as distinctly as if it were +yesterday the grim sight that met us when we rode in among the +whispering cottonwoods. We found Hank Rowan in a little open place, +where rifts of sunlight filtered through the tangled branches; one +yellow bar, full of quivering motes, rested on the wide-open eyes and +mouth, tinting the set features the ghastly color of a plaster cast. The +horse he had ridden lay dead across his legs, and just beyond, a +crumpled heap against the base of a tree, was the carcass of a mule, +half-hidden under a bulky pack. The thing that sickened me, that stirs +me even yet, was a circular, red patch that crowned his head where +should have been thick, iron-gray hair. + +"The damned hounds!" MacRae muttered. "They tried to make it look like +an Indian job." + +The pack-ropes had been cut and the pack searched. In the same manner +they had gone through his pockets and scattered a few papers and letters +on the ground. These we gathered carefully together, against the time of +meeting Lyn, and then--for time pressed, and a dead man, though he may +be your friend and his passing a sorrow, is out of the game forever--we +dragged him from beneath the dead horse, wrapped him in the canvas +pack-cover, and buried him in the soft leaf-mold where he lay, as we +had buried his lifetime partner early in the morning. When we had +finished, MacRae ordered his two troopers back to Pend d' Oreille, and we +mounted our horses and turned their heads toward Fort Walsh. + +It is seventy miles in an air-line from Stony Crossing to the fort. That +night we laid out, sleeping without hardship in a dry buffalo-wallow, +and noon of the next day brought us to Walsh, a huddle of log buildings +clustering around a tall pole from which fluttered the union jack. + +Off to one side of the fort a bunch of work-bulls fed peacefully. Down +in the creek bottom a tent or two flapped in the mid-day breeze, and in +their neighborhood uprose the smoke of half a dozen dinner fires. By the +post storeroom, waiting their turn to unload, was ranged a line of the +tarpaulin-covered wagons, wheeled galleons of the plains, that brought +food and raiment to the Northwest before the coming of steam and steel. + +"That looks to me like Baker's outfit, from Benton," I said to MacRae, +as we swung off our horses before the building in which the officer of +the day held forth. "They must have come by way of Assiniboine." + +"Probably," Mac answered. "And over yonder's the paymaster's train. At +least, he's due, and I can't account for a bunch of horses in charge of +a buck trooper any other way." + +We clanked into the ante-room--that's what I call it, anyway. It +happened that I didn't stay around those police posts long enough to get +familiar with the technical terms for everything. Not that they wouldn't +have welcomed my presence; faith, their desire for my company was only +equaled by my reluctance to accept their hospitality. There was a while +when I developed a marvelous capacity for dodging invitations to Fort +Walsh. And if the men in scarlet had been a bit swifter, or I a little +slower, I'd have had ample leisure to observe life in the Force from the +inside--of the guardhouse. As I said, we went into the ante-room, and +there I got my first peep at the divinity that doth hedge--not a king, +but a commissioned officer in Her Majesty's N. W. M. P. An orderly held +us up, and when MacRae had convinced him that our business was urgent, +and not for his ears, he graciously allowed us to enter the +Presence--who proved to be a heavy-set person with sandy, mutton-chop +whiskers set bias on a vacuous, round, florid countenance. His +braid-trimmed uniform was cut to fit him like the skin of an exceedingly +well-stuffed sausage, and from his comfortable seat behind a flat-topped +desk he gazed upon us with the wisdom of a tree-full of owls and the +dignity of a stage emperor. + +MacRae's heels clicked together and his right hand went up in the stiff +military salute. The red-faced one acknowledged it by a barely +perceptible flip of a fat paw, then put a little extra stiffening into +his spinal column and growled, in a voice that seemed to come booming up +from the region of his diaphragm, "Pro-ceed." + +MacRae proceeded. But he didn't get very far. In fact, he'd barely +articulated, 'I have to report, sir, that----' when the human sausage +bethought himself of something more important, and held up one hand for +silence. He produced a watch and studied it frowningly, then dismissed +us and the recital of our troubles with a ponderous gesture. + +"Repawt again," he rumbled, away down in his chest cavity, "at +hawf--pawst--one." + +"Yes, sir," MacRae saluted again, and we withdrew. + +"A beautiful specimen; a man of great force," I unburdened myself when +we got outside. "Have you many like him? I'd admire to see him cavorting +around on the pinnacles after horse-thieves or whisky-runners or a bunch +of bad Indians. A peaceable citizen would sure do well on the other side +of the line if sheriffs and marshals took a lay-off to feed themselves +when a man was in the middle of his complaint. How long do you suppose +it will take that fat slob to get a squad of these soldier-policemen on +the trail of that ten thousand?" + +MacRae laughed dryly. "Old Dobson is harmless, all right, so far as +hunting outlaws is concerned. But he doesn't cut much figure around +here, one way or the other; no more than two or three other 'haw-haw' +Englishmen who got commissions in the Force on the strength of their +family connections. Lessard--the major in charge--is the brains of the +post. He gets out and does things while these fatheads stay in quarters +and untangle red tape. Personally, I don't like Lessard--he's a damned +autocrat. But he's the man to whip this unorganized country into shape. +I imagine he'll paw up the earth when he hears our story." + +We mounted and rode to the stables. When we'd unsaddled and put up our +horses, Mac led the way toward a row of small, whitewashed cabins set +off by themselves, equidistant from barrack and officers' row. + +"Sometimes I eat with the sergeants' mess," Mac said. "But generally I +camp with 'Bat' Perkins when I drop in here. Bat's an ex-stock-hand like +ourselves, and we'll be as welcome as payday. And he'll know if Lyn +Rowan has come to Walsh." + +I wasn't in shape, financially, to have any choice in the matter of a +stopping-place. Forty or fifty dollars of expense money covered the +loose cash in my pockets when I left Walsh for Benton; and, while I may +have neglected to mention the fact, those two coin-collectors didn't +overlook the small change when they held me up for La Pere's roll. There +was a sort of sheebang--you couldn't call it a hotel if you had any +regard for the truth--on the outskirts of Walsh, for the accommodation +of wayfarers without a camp-outfit, but most of the time you couldn't +get anything fit to eat there. So I was mighty glad to hear about Bat +Perkins. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +THIRTY DAYS IN IRONS! + + +It transpired, however, that before we reached Bat Perkins' cabin Mac +got an unexpected answer to one of the questions he intended to ask. As +we turned the corner of a rambling log house, which, from its +pretentiousness, I judged must house some Mounted Police dignitary, we +came face to face with a tall, keen-featured man in Police uniform, and +a girl. Even though Rutter had declared she would be at Walsh, I wasn't +prepared to believe it was Lyn Rowan. Sometimes five years will work a +wonderful change in a woman; or is it that time and distance work some +subtle transition in one's recollection? She didn't give me much time to +indulge in guesswork, though. While I wondered, for an instant, if there +could by any possibility be another woman on God's footstool with quite +the same tilt to her head, the same heavy coils of tawny hair and +unfathomable eyes that always met your own so frankly, she recognized +the pair of us; though MacRae in uniform must have puzzled her for an +instant. + +"Gordon--and Sarge Flood! Where in the world did you come from? +And--and----" She stopped rather suddenly, a bit embarrassed. I knew +just as well as if she had spoken the words, that she had been on the +point of asking him what he was doing in the yellow-striped breeches and +scarlet jacket of a Mounted Policeman. Whatever had parted them, she +hadn't held it against him. There was an indefinable something in the +way she spoke his name and looked at him that told me there was still a +soft spot in her heart for the high-headed beggar by my side. + +But MacRae--while I was wise to the fact that he was the only friend I +had in that country, and the sort of friend that sticks closer than a +brother, I experienced a sincere desire to beat him over the noodle with +my gun and thereby knock a little of the stiffness out of his +neck--simply saluted the officer, tipped his hat to her, and passed on. +I didn't _sabe_ the play, and when I saw the red flash up into her face +it made me hot, and there followed a few seconds when I took a very +uncharitable view of Mr. Gordon MacRae's distant manner. + +The fellow with her, I noticed, seemed to draw himself up very stiff and +dignified when she stopped and spoke to us; and the look with which he +favored MacRae was a peculiar one. It was simply a vagrant expression, +but as it flitted over his face it lacked nothing in the way of +surprised disapproval; I might go farther and say it was malignant--the +kind of look that makes a man feel like reaching for a weapon. At least, +that's the impression it made on me. + +"I might fire that question back at you, Miss Rowan," I replied. "We're +both a long way from the home range. I was here a day or two ago. How +did you manage to keep out of sight--or have you just got in?" + +"Yesterday, only," she returned. "We--you remember old Mammy Thomas, +don't you?--came over from Benton with the Baker freight outfit. I +expect to meet dad here, in a few days." + +Her last sentence froze the words that were all ready to slip off the +end of my tongue, and made my grouch against MacRae crystallize into a +feeling akin to anger. Why couldn't the beggar stand his ground and +deliver the ugly tidings himself? That bunch of cottonwoods with the +new-made grave close by the dead horses seemed to rise up between us, +and I became speechless. I hadn't the nerve to stand there and tell her +she'd never see her father again this side of the pearly gates. Not I. +That was a job for somebody who could put his arms around her and kiss +the tears away from her eyes. Unless I read her wrong, there was only +one man who could make it easier for her if he were by, and he was +walking away as if it were none of his concern. + +Something of this must have shown in my face, for she was beginning to +regard me curiously. I gathered my scattered wits and started to make +some attempt at conversation, but the man with the shoulder-straps +forestalled me. + +"Really, we must go, Miss Rowan, or we shall be late for luncheon," he +drawled. The insolent tone of him was like having one's face slapped, +and it didn't pass over Lyn's head by any means. I thought to myself +that if he had set out to entrench himself in her good graces, he was +taking the poorest of all methods to accomplish that desirable end. + +"Just a moment, major," she said. "Are you going to be here any length +of time, Sarge?" + +"A day or so," I responded shortly. I didn't feel overly cheerful +with all that bad news simmering in my brain-pan, and in addition +I had conceived a full-grown dislike for the "major" and his +I-am-superior-to-you attitude. + +"Then come and see me this afternoon if you can. I'm staying with Mrs. +Stone. Don't forget, now--I have a thousand things I want to talk about. +Good-bye." And she smiled and turned away with the uniformed snob by her +side. + +MacRae had loitered purposely, and I overtook him in a few rods. + +"Well," I blurted out, as near angry as I ever got at MacRae in all the +years I'd known him, "you're a high-headed cuss, confound you! Is it a +part of your new philosophy of life to turn your back on every one that +you ever cared anything for?" + +He shrugged his shoulders tolerantly. "What did you expect of me?" + +"You might have--oh, well, I suppose you'll go your own gait, +regardless," I sputtered. "That's your privilege. But I don't see how +you had the nerve to pass _her_ up that way. Especially since that Stony +Crossing deal." + +Mac took a dozen steps before he answered me. + +"You don't understand the lay of things, Sarge," he said, rather +hesitatingly. "If I have the situation sized up right, Lyn is +practically alone here, and things are going to look pretty black to her +when she learns what has happened. Hank never had anything much to do +with his people. I doubt if Lyn has even a speaking acquaintance with +her nearest kin. She has friends in the South--plenty of them who'd be +more than glad to do as much for her as you or I. But we're a long way +from the Canadian River, now. And so if she has made friends among the +official set here, it's up to me to stand back--until that _cache_ is +found, anyway." + +"Then you're not going to try and see her, and tell her about this thing +yourself?" I asked. + +"I can't," he replied impatiently. "You'll have to do that, Sarge. Hang +it, can't you see where I stand? The mere fact that Lessard was taking +her about shows that these officers' women have received her with open +arms. They form a clique as exclusive as a quarantined smallpox patient, +and a 'non-com' like myself is barred out, until I win a pair of +shoulder-straps; when my rank would make me socially possible. Meantime, +I'm a sergeant, and if Lyn went to picking friends out of the ranks, I'm +not sure they wouldn't drop her like a hot potato. Sounds rotten, but +that's their style; and you've been through the mill at home enough to +know what it is to be knifed socially. It's different with you; you're +an American citizen, a countryman of hers. You understand?" + +"Yes," I answered tartly. "But I don't understand how you can stomach +this sort of existence. What is there in it? Where is the profit or +satisfaction in this kind of thing, for you? Will the man in the ranks +get credit for taming the Northwest when his work is done? Why the devil +don't you quit the job? Cut loose and be a free agent again." + +"It is a temptation, the way things have come up in the last day or +two," he mused. "I'd like to be foot-loose, so I could work it out +without any string attached to me. But there are only two ways I could +get out of the Force, and neither is open. I might desert, which would +be a dirty way to sneak out of a thing I went into deliberately; or, if +they were minded to allow me, I could buy my discharge--and I haven't +the price. Besides, I like the game and I don't know that I want to quit +it. The life isn't so bad. It's your rabidly independent point of view. +A man that can't obey orders is not likely to climb to a position where +he can give them. What the dickens would become of the cow-outfits," he +challenged, "if every stockhand refused to take orders from the foreman +and owners? Do you stand on your dignity when La Pere tells you to do +certain things in a certain way?" + +I shrugged my shoulders. There was just enough truth in his words to +make them hard to confute, and, anyway, I was not in the mood for that +sort of argument. But I was very sure that I would rather be a +forty-dollar-a-month cowpuncher than a sergeant in the Mounted Police. + +"That fellow with her is the big gun here, is he?" I reverted to Lyn and +her affairs. + +"Yes," Mac answered shortly, "that was Lessard." + +By this time we had come to the last cabin in the row. A whitewashed +fence enclosed a diminutive yard, and as we turned in the gate Bat +Perkins appeared in the doorway, both hands thrust deep in his trousers +pockets and a pipe sagging down one corner of his wide mouth. He was +rudely jovial in his greeting, as most of his type were. His wit was +labored, but his welcome was none the less genuine. + +"I seen yuh ride in, Mac," he grinned, "an' I told the old woman t' +turn herself loose on the beefsteak an' spuds, for here comes that +hungry-lookin' jasper from Pend d' Oreille." + +I was duly made acquainted with Bat, and later with his wife, who, if +she did have a trace of Indian blood in her, could certainly qualify as +the patron saint of hungry men. Good cooks were a scarce article on the +frontier then. Bat, I learned, was attached to the Force in a civilian +capacity. + +We ate, smoked a cigarette apiece, and then it was time for us to +"repawt." So we betook ourselves to the seat of the mighty, to unload +our troubles on the men who directed the destinies of the turbulent +Northwest and see what they could do toward alleviating them. + +This time the orderly passed us in without delay, and once more we faced +the man of rank, who, after taking our measure with a deliberate stare, +ordered MacRae to state his business. + +As Mac related the unvarnished tale of the banked fire in the canyon, +the hold-up, and the double murder, a slight sound caused me to turn my +head, and I saw in a doorway that led to another room the erect figure +of Major Lessard listening intently, a black frown on his eagle face. +When MacRae had finished his story and the incapable blockhead behind +the desk sat there regarding the two of us as though he considered that +we had been the victims of a rank hallucination, Lessard slammed the +door shut behind him and strode into the room. + +"I'll take charge of this, Captain Dobson," he brusquely informed the +red-faced numskull. + +Taking his stand at the end of the desk, he made MacRae reiterate in +detail the grim happenings of that night. That over, he quizzed me for a +few minutes. Then he turned loose on MacRae with a battery of questions. +Could he give a description of the men? Would he be able to identify +them? Why did he not exercise more precaution when investigating +anything so suspicious as a concealed fire? Why this, why that? Why +didn't he send a trooper to report at once instead of wasting time in +going to Stony Crossing? And a dozen more. + +With every word his thin-lipped mouth drew into harder lines, and the +cold, domineering tone, weighted heavy with sneering emphasis, grated on +me till I wanted to reach over and slap his handsome, smooth-shaven +face. But MacRae stood at "attention" and took his medicine dumbly. He +had to. He was in the presence, and answering the catechism, of a +superior officer, and his superior officer by virtue of a commission +from the Canadian government could insult his manhood and lash him +unmercifully with a viperish tongue, and if he dared to resent it by +word or deed there was the guardhouse and the shame of irons--for +discipline must be maintained at any cost! I thanked the star of destiny +then and there that no Mounted Police officer had a string attached to +me, by which he could force me to speak or be silent at his will. It was +a dirty piece of business on Lessard's part. Even Dobson eyed him +wonderingly. + +"Why, damn it!" Lessard finally burst out, "you've handled this like a +green one, fresh from over the water. You are held up; this man is +robbed of ten thousand dollars; another man is murdered under your very +nose--and then you waste thirty-six hours blundering around the country +to satisfy your infernal curiosity. It's incredible, in a man of your +frontier experience, under any hypothesis except that you stood in with +the outlaws and held back to assure their escape!" + +At first MacRae had looked puzzled, at a loss. Then under the lash of +Lessard's bitter tongue the dull red stole up into his weather-browned +cheeks, glowed there an instant and receded, leaving his face white +under the tan. His left hand was at its old, familiar trick--fingers +shut tight over the thumb till the cords stood tense between the +knuckles and wrist--a never-failing sign that internally he was close to +the boiling-point, no matter how calm he appeared on the surface. And +when Lessard flung out that last unthinkable accusation, the explosion +came. + +"You lie, you----!" MacRae spoke in a cold impersonal tone, and only the +flat strained note betrayed his feeling; but the term applied to Lessard +was one to make a man's ears burn; it was the range-riders' gauntlet +thrown squarely in an enemy's face. "You lie when you say that, and you +know you lie. I don't know your object, but I call your bluff--you--you +blasted insect!" + +Lessard, if he had been blind till then, saw what was patent to me--that +he had gone a bit too far, that the man he had baited so savagely was +primed to kill him if he made a crooked move. MacRae leaned forward, his +gray eyes twin coals, the thumb of his right hand hooked suggestively in +the cartridge-belt, close by the protruding handle of his six-shooter. +They were a well-matched pair; iron-nerved, both of them, the sort of +men to face sudden death open-eyed and unafraid. + +A full minute they glared at each other across the desk corner. Then +Lessard, without moving a muscle or altering his steady gaze, spoke to +Dobson. + +"Call the orderly," he said quietly. + +Dobson, mouth agape, struck a little bell on the desk and the orderly +stepped in from the outer room. + +"Orderly, disarm Sergeant MacRae." + +Lessard uttered the command evenly, without a jarring note, his tone +almost a duplicate of MacRae's. He was a good judge of men, that +eagle-faced major; he knew that the slightest move with hostile intent +would mean a smoking gun. MacRae would have shot him dead in his tracks +if he'd tried to reach a weapon. But a man who is really game--which no +one who knew him could deny MacRae--won't, _can't_ shoot down another +unless that other shows _fight_; and a knowledge of that gun-fighters' +trait saved Major Lessard's hide from being thoroughly punctured that +day. + +The orderly, a rather shaky orderly if the truth be told (I think he +must have listened through the keyhole!) stepped up to Mac. + +"Give me your side-arms, sergeant," he said, nervously. + +MacRae looked from one to the other, and for a breath I was as nervous +as the trooper. It was touch and go, just then, and if he'd gone the +wrong way it's altogether likely that I'd have felt called upon to back +his play, and there would have been a horrible mix-up in that two by +four room. But he didn't. Just smiled, a sardonic sort of grimace, and +unbuckled his belt and handed it over without a word. He'd begun to +cool. + +"Reduced to the ranks--thirty days in irons--solitary confinement!" +Lessard snapped the words out with a wolfish satisfaction. + +"Keep a close mouth, Sarge," MacRae spoke in Spanish with his eyes bent +on the floor, "and don't quit the country till I get out." Then he +turned at the orderly's command and marched out of the room. + +When I again turned to Lessard he still stood at the end of the desk, +industriously paring his fingernails. An amused smile wrinkled the +corners of his mouth. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +LYN. + + +Whereas Lessard had acted the martinet with MacRae, he took another tack +and became the very essence of affability toward me. (I'd have enjoyed +punching his proud head, for all that; it was a dirty way to serve a man +who had done his level best.) + +"Rather unfortunate happening for you, Flood," he began. "I think, +however, that we shall eventually get your money back." + +"I hope so," I replied coolly. "But I must say that it begins to look +like a big undertaking." + +"Well, yes; it is," he observed. "Still, we have a pretty thorough +system of keeping track of things like that. This is a big country, but +you can count on the fingers of one hand the places where a man can +spend money. Of course, you probably realize the difficulty of laying +hands on men who know they are wanted, and act accordingly. We can't +arrest on a description, because you wouldn't know the men if you saw +them. Our only chance is to be on the lookout for free spenders. It's a +certainty that they will be captured if they spend that money at any +trading-post within our jurisdiction. I'll find out if the quartermaster +knows the numbers and denomination of the bills. On the other hand, if +they go south, cross the line, you know, we won't get much of a show at +them. But we'll have to take chances on that." + +"I've done all I can do in that direction," I said. "I've sent word to +La Pere." + +"You had better stay hereabout for a while," he decided. "You can put up +at one of the troop-messes for a few days. I'll send a despatch to Whoop +Up and MacLeod, and we'll see what turns up. Also I think I shall send a +detail to bring in those bodies. The identification must be made +complete. No doubt it will be a trial for Miss Rowan, but I think she +would feel better to have her father buried here. By the way, you knew +the Rowans in the States, I believe." + +"Was trail-boss three seasons for Hank Rowan and his partner," I +returned briefly. I didn't much like his offhand way of asking; not that +it wasn't a perfectly legitimate query. But I couldn't get rid of the +notion that he would hand me out the same dose he had given MacRae if +only he had the power. + +"Ah," he remarked. "Then perhaps you would like to go out and help bring +in those bodies. It will save taking the Pend d' Oreille riders from +their regular patrol, and we are having considerable trouble with +whisky-runners these days." + +I agreed to go, and that terminated the conversation. I didn't mind +going; in fact some sort of action appealed to me just then. I had no +idea of going back to Benton right away, and sitting around Fort Walsh +waiting for something to turn up was not my taste. It never struck me +till I was outside the office that Lessard had passed up the gold +episode altogether; he hadn't said whether he would send any one to +prognosticate around Writing-Stone or not. I wondered if he took any +stock in Rutter's story, or thought it merely one of the queer turns a +man's brain will sometimes take when he is dying. It had sounded +off-color to me, at first; but I knew old Hans pretty well, and he +always seemed to me a hard-headed, matter of fact sort of man, not at +all the flighty kind of pilgrim that gets mixed in his mental processes +when things go wrong. Besides, if there wasn't some powerful incentive, +why that double killing, to say nothing of the incredible devilishness +that accompanied it. + +Once out of the official atmosphere, I hesitated over my next move. +Lessard's high-handed squelching of MacRae had thrown everything out of +focus. We'd planned to report at headquarters, see Lyn, if she were at +Walsh, and then with Pend d' Oreille as a base of operations go on a +still hunt for whatever the Writing-Stone might conceal. That scheme was +knocked galley-west and crooked, for even when MacRae's term expired +he'd get a long period of duty at the Fort; he'd lost his rank, and as a +private his coming and going would be according to barrack-rule instead +of the freedom allowed a sergeant in charge of an outpost like Pend +d' Oreille--I knew that much of the Mounted Police style of doing +business. And so far as my tackling single-handed a search for Hank +Rowan's _cache_--well, I decided to see Lyn before I took that +contract. + +I hated that, too. It always went against my grain to be a bearer of ill +tidings. I hate to make a woman cry, especially one I like. Some one had +to tell her, though, and, much as I disliked the mission, I felt that I +ought not to hang back and let some stranger blurt it out. So I nailed +the first trooper I saw, and had him show me the domicile of Mrs. +Stone--who, I learned, was the wife of Lessard's favorite captain--and +thither I rambled, wishing mightily for a good stiff jolt out of the keg +that Piegan Smith and Mac had clashed over. But if there was any bottled +nerve-restorer around Fort Walsh it was tucked away in the officers' +cellars, and not for the benefit of the common herd; so I had to fall +back on a cigarette. + +Lyn was sitting out in front when I reached the place. Another female +person, whom I put down as Madam Stone, arose and disappeared through +an open door at my approach. Lyn motioned me to a camp-stool close by. I +sat down, and immediately my tongue became petrified. My think-machinery +was running at a dizzy speed, but words--if silence is truly golden, I +was the richest man in Fort Walsh that afternoon, for a few minutes, at +least. And when my vocal organs did at last consent to fulfil their +natural office, they refused to deliver anything but empty commonplaces, +the kind one's tongue carries in stock for occasional moments of barren +speech. These oral inanities only served to make Lyn give me the benefit +of a look of amused wonder. + +"Dear me," she laughed at last. "I wonder what weighty matter is +crushing you to the earth. If you've got anything on your conscience, +Sarge, for goodness' sake confess. I'll give you absolution, if you +like, and then perhaps you'll be a little more cheerful." + +"No, there's nothing particular weighing me down," I lied flatly. +"Anyway, I don't aim to unload my personal troubles on you. I came over +here to acquire a little information. How came you away up here by your +lonesome, and what brought your father and old Hans----" + +Her purple-shaded eyes widened, each one a question-mark. + +"Who told you that Hans was up North? I know I didn't mention him," she +cut in quickly. "Have you seen them?" + +It's a wonder my face didn't betray the fact that I was holding +something back. I know I must have looked guilty for a second. That was +a question I would gladly have passed up, but her eyes demanded an +answer. + +"Well," I protested, "it occurred to me that if you expected to meet +your father here in a day or two, Rutter would naturally be with him, +seeing that they've paddled in the same canoe since a good many years +before you were born, my lady. What jarred you all loose from Texas? And +what the mischief did you do to MacRae that he quit the South next +spring after I did, and straightway went to soldiering in this +country?" + +She shied away from that query, just as I expected. "We had oceans of +trouble after you left there, Sarge," she told me, turning her head from +me so that her gaze wandered over the barrack-square. "It really doesn't +make pleasant telling, but you'll understand better than some one that +didn't know the country. You remember Dick Feltz, and that old trouble +about the Conway brand that dad bought a long time back?" + +I nodded; I remembered Mr. Feltz very well indeed, for the well-merited +killing of one of his hired assassins was the main cause of my hasty +departure from Texas. + +"Well, it came to a head, one day, in Fort Worth. They shot each other +up terribly, and a week or so later Feltz died. His people in the East +got it into their heads that it was a case of murder. They stirred up +the county authorities till every one was taking sides. Of course, dad +was cleared; but that seemed to be the beginning of a steady run of bad +luck. The trial cost an awful lot of money, and made enemies, too. Feltz +had plenty of friends of his own calibre--you know that to your sorrow, +don't you, Sarge?--and they started trouble on the range. It was simply +terrible for a while. Dad can supply the details when he comes." ("when +he comes"--I tell you, that jarred me.) "Finally things got to such a +pass that dad had to quit. And what with a deal in some Mexican cattle +that didn't turn out well, and some other business troubles that I never +quite understood, we were just about finished when we closed out." + +She let her eyes meet mine for an instant, and they were smiling, making +light of it all. Most women, I thought, would have had a good cry, or at +least pulled a long face, over a hard-luck story like that. But she was +really more of a woman than I had thought her, and I thanked the Lord +she was game when I remembered what I had to tell her before I was +through. + +"Dad and Hans Rutter, as you know, weren't the sort of men to sit around +and mourn over anything like that," she laughed. "I don't know where +they got the idea of going to Peace River. But dad settled me and Mammy +Thomas in a little cottage in Austin, and they started. I wanted to go +along, but dad wouldn't hear of it. They've been gone a little over two +years. I'd get word from them about every three months, and early this +spring dad wrote that they had made a good stake and were coming home. +He said I could come as far as Benton to meet them, and we would take +the boat from there down to St. Louis. So I looked up the lay of the +country, and sent him word I would come as far as Walsh. He had said +they would come out by way of this place. And then I rounded up Mammy +Thomas and struck out. I've rather enjoyed the trip, too. They should be +here any day, now." + +My conscience importuned me to tell her bluntly that they would only +come into Walsh feet first. But I dodged the unpleasant opening. There +was another matter I wanted to touch upon first. + +"Look here, Lyn," I said--rather dubiously, it must be confessed, for I +didn't know how she would take it, "I'm going to tell you something on +my own responsibility, and you mustn't get the idea that I'm trying to +mix into your personal affairs without a warrant. But I have a hunch +that you're laboring under a mistaken impression, right now; that is, if +you care anything about an old friend like MacRae." + +"I can't really say that I do, though," she assured me quickly, but she +colored in a way that convinced me that her feeling toward MacRae was of +the sort she would never admit to any one but himself. + +"Well," I continued, "I imagined you would think it queer that he should +pass you up as he did a while ago. But here at Fort Walsh we're among a +class of people that are a heap different from Texas cow-punchers. These +redcoats move along social lines that don't look like much to a cowman; +but once in the Force you must abide by them. It was consideration for +you that forbade MacRae to stop. Any woman in the company of an officer +is taboo to an enlisted man, according----" + +"I know all that," she interrupted impatiently. "Probably they'd cut me, +and all that sort of thing. I understand their point of view, exactly, +but I'm not here to play the social game, and I shall talk to whom it +pleases me. Do you or Gordon MacRae honestly believe I care a snap for +their petty conventions?" + +"No, I know you better than that," I responded. "All the same, this is a +pretty rough country for a woman, and if you've made friends among the +people on top, they may come in handy. For that matter," I concluded, +"you won't get a chance to have the cold shoulder turned to you for +associating with MacRae; not for some time, anyway." + +"What do you mean?" she demanded, in that answer-me-at-once way I knew +of old. + +"MacRae has gotten into a bad hole," I told her plainly. "Major Lessard, +who happens to be the big chief in this neck of the woods, seems to have +developed a sudden grouch against him. There was a hold-up night before +last--in fact, I was the victim. I was separated from a big bunch of +money that belongs to the outfit I'm working for. Mac was with me at the +time. He had to come in here and report it, for it happened in his +district, and the major raked him over the coals in a way that was hard +to stand. You know MacRae, Lyn; it's mighty poor business for any man to +tread on his toes, much less go walking rough-shod all over him. Lessard +went the length of accusing him of being in with these hold-up men, +because he did a little investigating on his own account before coming +in to report. Mac took that pretty hard, and came mighty near making the +major eat his words with gunpowder sauce on the side. So, for having the +nerve to declare himself, he has lost his sergeant's stripes and has +likewise gone to the guardhouse to meditate over the foolishness of +taking issue with his superiors. If you don't see him for the next +thirty days, you'll have the consolation of knowing that he isn't +avoiding you purposely." + +It was a rather flippant way to talk, but it was the best I could do +under the circumstances. The last three days hadn't been exactly +favorable to a normal state of mind, or well-considered speech. + +But--who was the wise mortal that said: "No man knoweth the mind of a +maid"?--she sat there quite unmoved, her hands resting quietly in her +lap. "We all seem to be more or less under a cloud, Sarge," she said +slowly. "Maybe when dad comes he can furnish a silver lining for it. I +sometimes--what makes you look that way? You look as if you were +thinking it my fault that Gordon is in trouble." + +"You're wrong there," I protested, truthfully enough. + +"But you have that air," she declared. "And I'm not to blame. If he +hadn't been so--so--I'm sure he'd get out of the Mounted Police fast +enough if he didn't like it. I can't imagine him doing anything against +his will. I never knew him"--with a faint smile--"to stay anywhere or do +anything that didn't suit him." She took to staring out across the +grounds again, and one hand drew up slowly till it was doubled into a +tight-shut little fist. + +"Well, he's in that very fix right now. And he's likely to continue so, +unless some one buys his release from the service and makes him a +present of it. You might play the good angel," I suggested, half in +earnest. "It only costs about five hundred dollars"--Mac had told me +that--"and I'm sure he'd be properly grateful." + +The red flag waved in her cheeks again. "I don't particularly like the +idea," she said, rather crossly, still keeping her face turned away from +me, "and I'm very sure he wouldn't care to have me. But dad thinks a lot +of him; he might do something of the kind when he gets here. Dear, I +wish they'd hurry along." + +She had me at the end of my rope at last, and I felt like breaking away +right there; any one not utterly calloused would, I think, have felt the +same squeamishness with that sort of a tale crowding close. If she had +been expecting bad news of any kind it wouldn't have been so hard to go +on; but I couldn't beat about the bush any longer, so I made the plunge +with what grace I could. + +"Lyn, I've got something to tell you about your father and old Hans, and +I'm afraid it's going to hurt," I prefaced gently, and went on before +she could interrupt. "The fellows who held MacRae and me up had someway +got wind of the gold they were packing out. They tried to get it. So far +as I know, they haven't succeeded yet. Rutter tried to tell us where it +was _cached_. There was a fight over it, you see, and he was shot. Mac +and I came across him--but not soon enough." I stopped and got out +cigarette material in an absent sort of way. My lips, I remember, were +almighty dry just then. + +"And dad?" Lyn was looking at me intently, and her voice was steady; +that squeezed kind of steadiness that is almost worse than tears. + +"He wasn't with Rutter." I drew a long breath and hurried on, slurring +over the worst of it. "They had got separated. Hans was about done when +we found him--he died in a few minutes--but he told us where to go. Then +we went to look for your father. We found him; too late to do any good. +We buried him--both of them--and came on here." + +I felt like a beast, as if I had struck her with my fist, but at any +rate, it was all told; all that she need ever know. I sat still and +watched her, wondering nervously what she would do. + +It was a strain to sit there silent, for Lyn neither did or said +anything at first. Perhaps she cried afterward, when she got by herself, +but not then; just looked at me, through me, almost, her face white and +drawn into pained lines, and those purple-blue eyes perfectly black. I +got up at last, and put one hand on her shoulder. + +"It's hell, little girl, I know." I said this hardly realizing that I +swore. "We can't bring the old man back to life, but we can surely run +down the cold-blooded devils that killed him. I have a crow to pick with +them myself; but that doesn't matter; I'd be in the game anyway. We'll +get them somehow, when Mac gets out and can play his hand again. It was +finding your father and giving him decent burial that kept us out so +long. I don't understand, yet, why Lessard should pitch into MacRae so +hard for doing that much. You know Mac, Lyn, and you know me--we'll do +what we can." + +She didn't move for a minute, and the shocked, stricken look in her eyes +grew more intense. Then she dropped her head in the palms of her hands +with a little sobbing cry. "Sarge, I--I wish you'd go, now," she +whispered. "I want to--to be all by myself, for a while. I'll be all +right by and by." + +I stood irresolute for a second. It may have been my fancy, but I seemed +to hear her whisper, "Oh, Gordon, Gordon!" Then I hesitated no longer, +but turned away and left her alone with her grief; it was not for me to +comfort her. And when I had walked a hundred yards or more, I looked +back. She was still sitting as I had left her, head bowed on her hands, +and the afternoon sun playing hide-and-seek in the heavy coils of her +tawny-gold hair. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +AN IDLE AFTERNOON. + + +For the next hour or two I poked aimlessly around the post buildings, +chafing at the forced inaction and wondering what I would better do +after I'd gone with the squad of redcoats to those graves and helped +bring the bodies in. Even if I had a pack-horse and a grub-stake, it +would be on a par with chasing a rainbow for me to start on a lone hunt +for Hank Rowan's _cache_. I didn't know the Writing-Stone country, and a +man had no business wandering up and down those somber ridges alone, +away from the big freight-trails, unless he was anxious to be among the +"reported missing"--which he sure would be if a bunch of non-treaty +Indians ever got within gunshot of him. I damned Major Lessard earnestly +for what I considered his injustice to MacRae, and wondered if he would +send his troopers out to look for that hypothetical gold-dust. I didn't +see how he could avoid making a bluff at doing so, even if he secretly +classed Rutter's story as a fairy-tale, and I promised myself to find +out what he was going to do before I started in the morning. + +While I was sitting with my back against the shaded wall of troop G's +barrack, turning this over in my mind, a Policeman with the insignia of +a sergeant on his sleeve came sauntering leisurely by. He took me in +with an appraising glance, and stopped. + +"How d'ye do," he greeted, with a friendly nod. "You're the man that +came in with MacRae, aren't you?" + +I laconically admitted that I was. + +"The k. o. has detailed me to bring in the bodies of the two men who +were killed," he informed me. "He said that you were going along, and so +I thought I'd hunt you up and tell you that we'll start about seven in +the morning." + +"I'll be ready," I assured him. + +"Come on over to the bull-pen," he invited cordially. "Sorry we haven't +a canteen in connection, but it's more comfortable over there. Good +place to lop about, y' know; a decent place to sit, and a few books and +cards and that sort of thing. Come along." + +I rather liked the man's style, and as he seemed to be really anxious to +make things pleasant for me, I shuffled off the pessimistic mood I was +drifting into, and fell in with his proposal. The "bull-pen" proved to +be a combination reading and lounging-room for the troopers not on duty. +My self-appointed host, whose name was Goodell, waved me to a chair, and +took one opposite. With his feet cocked up on a window-sill, and a +cigarette going, he leaned back in his chair, and our conversation +slackened so that I had a chance to observe my surroundings. It was a +big place, probably fifty feet by a hundred, and quite a number of +redcoats were sprinkled about, some reading, some writing letters, and +two or three groups playing cards. None of them paid any attention to +me, beyond an occasional disinterested glance, until my roving eyes +reached a point directly behind me. Then I became aware that one of a +bunch of four poker-players a few feet distant was regarding me with an +expression that puzzled me. I had turned my head rather quickly and +caught him staring straight at me. It was an odd look, sort of amused, +and speculative; at least, that was the way I read it. Twice in the next +ten minutes I glanced around quickly and caught him sizing me up, as it +were; and then I hitched my chair sidewise, and deliberately began +studying the gentleman to see if I could discover the source of his +interest in me. + +I failed in that, but I stopped his confounded quizzical stare. He +wasn't the style of man that I'd care to stir up trouble with, judging +from his size and the shape of his head. He was about my height, but +half as broad again across the shoulders, and his thick, heavy-boned +wrists showed hairy as an ape's when he stretched his arms to deal the +cards. Aside from his physical proportions, there was nothing about the +man to set him apart from his fellows. Half a dozen men in that room had +the same shade of hair and mustache, and the same ordinary blue eyes. I +turned back to the window again, thinking that I was getting nervous as +an old maid, to let a curious look from a stranger stir me like that. + +In a few minutes the trooper opposite my friend of the poker-game drew +out, and one of the players called loudly on Goodell to take his place. +Goodell lighted another cigarette and nonchalantly seated himself in the +vacant chair. Then I observed for the first time that the game was for +blood rather than pastime, for Goodell paid for his little pile of white +beans in good, gold coin of the realm. Next to playing a little "draw" +myself, I like to watch the game, and so I moved over where I could see +the bets made and the hands exhibited. And there I stuck till "stables" +sounded, watching the affable sergeant outgeneral his opponents, and +noting with some amusement the sulky look that grew more intensified on +the heavy face of Hicks (as they called the man who had favored me with +that peculiar stare) when Goodell finessed him out of two or three +generous-sized pots. + +On my way to attend to my horse, Bat Perkins overtook me. + +"Say, old-timer, is it right about Mac losing his stripes and getting +thirty days in the cooler?" he asked in lowered tone. + +"It sure is," I answered emphatically. + +"What in thunder for?" he inquired resentfully. And because I was aching +to express my candid opinion of Major Lessard and all his works to some +one who would understand my point of view, I told Bat all about +it--omitting any mention of the gold-dust. Only four men, Dobson the +fathead, Lessard, MacRae and myself, knew what little was known of that, +and I felt that I had no license to spread the knowledge further. + +"Oh, they sure do hand it to a man if he makes the least break," Bat +sympathized. "Mac's one uh the best men they've got in the Force, an' +they know it, too. Darned if that don't sound queer t' me; what else +could he do? But Lessard's a overbearin' son-of-a-gun all round, and +he's always breakin' out in a new place. Say, you might as well come +over an' stay with me while you're round here. I don't reckon you'll +enjoy herdin' with these rough-necks." + +Bat's offer was not one to be overlooked by a man in my circumstances, +so after supper found me sitting in his kitchen making gloomy forecasts +of the future, between cigarettes. Shortly before the moon-faced clock +nailed on the wall struck the hour of nine with a great internal +whirring, some one tapped lightly on the door. Bat himself answered the +knock. His body shut off sight of whoever stood outside. I could just +catch the murmur of a subdued voice. After a few seconds of listening +Bat nodded vigorously, and closed the door. He came back to his chair +grinning pleasantly, and handed me a little package. I tore it open and +found, wrapped tightly about three twenty-dollar gold pieces, an +unsigned note from MacRae. It ran: + + "Get after Lessard and see if he won't send an escort with you to + Writing-Stone. If he does, and you find anything, I needn't warn + you to be careful. I don't think he believed our yarn, at all. If + he refuses to act, stay here till I get out. This money will hold + you for a while. It's all I could rustle. If you need more, maybe + Bat can stake you--he will if he can." + +That was all. Not a word about Lyn. The stiff-necked devil! + +"You know what this is, don't you?" I said to Bat. "How the dickens did +he manage it?" + +Bat's grin became even more expansive. "There ain't a buck trooper on +the job," he replied, "that wouldn't help Mac if he got half a show; +he's a white man. It's easy for a prisoner t' slip a note to a friend +that happens t' be mountin' guard. He sent it t' me because I'd be apt +t' know where yuh was. _Sabe?_" + +I did. Mac's suggestion was right in line with my own idea. Lessard +could scarcely refuse to do that much, I thought; and it would be rather +unhealthy for those prairie pirates to match themselves against a bunch +of Mounted Policemen who were on their guard--provided we found anything +that was worth fighting over. + +A little later Bat spread a bed for me on the kitchen floor, and I +turned in. But my sleep resolved itself into a series of cat-naps. When +the first sunbeam gleamed through the window of Bat's tiny kitchen, I +arose, pulled on my boots and went to feed my horse. And when we had +eaten breakfast I headed straight for Lessard's private quarters. I +expected he would object to talking business out of business hours, but +I didn't care; I wanted to know what he was going to do, before I +started on that three-day trip. Fortunately Lessard was an early bird, +like myself. I met him striding toward the building that seemed to be a +clearing house for the official contingent. + +"Good-morning, major," I said, mustering up a semblance of heartiness +that was far from being the genuine article--I didn't like the man and +it galled me to ask anything of him. "I want to ask you something before +I leave. Have you talked this affair over with Miss Rowan?" + +"Yes. Why?" He was maddeningly curt, but I pocketed my feelings and +persisted. + +"Then you must know beyond a doubt that there was some truth in +Rutter's story," I declared. "Hank Rowan was my friend. I'd go out of my +way any time to help his daughter. Will you send four or five of your +men with me to the Writing-Stone to look for that stuff?" I asked him +point-blank. + +He looked me up and down curiously, and did not answer for a minute. +"How do you know where to look?" he suddenly demanded. "Writing-Stone +ridge is ten miles long. What chance would you have of finding anything +in a territory of that extent?" His cold eyes rested on me in a +disagreeable way. "I thought Rutter died before giving you the exact +location." + +As a matter of fact, MacRae, in detailing the lurid happenings of that +night, did not repeat the words Rutter had gasped out with his last +breath. He simply said that Hans died after telling us that they had +been attacked, and that the gold was hidden at Writing-Stone. And +Lessard, as I said before, had passed up the gold episode at the time; +all his concern seemed to be for the robbers' apprehension, which was +natural enough since a crime had undoubtedly been committed and he bore +the responsibility of catching and punishing the perpetrators. The +restoration of stolen goods was probably dwarfed in his mind by the +importance of capturing the stealers. + +I was vastly interested in that phase of it, too, for I realized that a +speedy gathering in of those men of the mask was my only chance to lay +hold of La Pere's ten thousand; and I had a theory that they were hardly +the sort to be content with that sum, and that Hank Rowan's _cached_ +gold would be an excellent bait for them, if it could be uncovered. +Those steadily reiterated phrases, "raw gold--on the rock" might have +some understandable meaning if one were on the spot, but MacRae had kept +that to himself--and I wasn't running a bureau of information for +Lessard's benefit. The Canadian government might trust him, but I +wouldn't--not if he took oath on a stack of Bibles, and gave a cast-iron +bond to play fair. I couldn't give any sound reason for feeling that +way, beyond the shabby treatment he'd given MacRae. But somehow the +man's personality grated on me. Lessard was of the type, rare enough, +that can't be overlooked if one comes in contact with it; a big, +dominant, magnetic brute type that rouses either admiration or +resentment in other ordinary mortals; the kind of a man that women +become fascinated with, and other men invariably hate--and sometimes +fear. I didn't stop to analyze my feeling toward him, just then; but I +had the impulse to keep what little I knew to myself, and I obeyed the +promptings of the sixth sense. + +"He did," I answered. "But we can take a chance. Send men that know the +country. Lyn Rowan's kinfolk are few and far between, now; that gold +means a good deal to her, in her present circumstances." + +"H--m-m." He mused a few seconds. Then: "If I think there's any +possibility of finding it--well, I'll see what can be done, after those +bodies are brought in. You, I suppose, are ready to start?" + +I nodded. + +"Sergeant Goodell is in charge of the detail. You'll probably find him +about to go. That's all." + +It was like being dismissed from parade; a right-about-face, march! +command straight from the shoulder. Again I was overwhelmed with +thankfulness that the N. W. M. P. had no string on me; I never took +orders from anybody in that tone of voice, and I wanted to shake a +defiant fist under the autocratic major's nose and tell him so. I had +sense enough to see that the time and place was unpropitious for +starting an argument of that sort, so I kept an unperturbed front and +went about my business. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE VANISHING ACT, AND THE FRUITS THEREOF. + + +Being aware that it was near the time Goodell had named for starting, I +returned to the stables, and, getting my horse, rode to the commissary. +There I found Goodell engineering the final preparations. Four men, +besides myself, made up the party: the sergeant, Hicks the +hairy-wristed, another private, and a half-breed scout. They were +lashing an allowance of food and blankets on a pack-horse, and two other +horses with bare _aparejos_ on their backs were tied to the horn of the +breed's saddle--for what purpose I could easily guess. + +While I sat on my _caballo_ waiting for them to tie the last hitch a +rattle of wheels and the thud of hoofs drew near, and presently a blue +wagon, drawn by four big mules and flanked by half a dozen Mounted +Policemen, passed by the commissary building. The little cavalcade +struck a swinging trot as it cleared the barracks, swung down into the +bed of Battle Creek, up the farther bank, and away to the west. And a +little later we, too, left the post, following in the dusty wake of the +paymaster's wagon and its mounted escort. + +For ten or twelve miles we kept to the MacLeod trail at an easy pace, +never more than a mile behind the "transient treasury," as Goodell +facetiously termed it. He was a pretty bright sort, that same Goodell, +quick-witted, nimble of tongue above the average Englishman. I don't +know that he was English; for that matter, none of the three carried the +stamp of his nationality on his face or in his speech. They were men of +white blood, but they might have been English, Irish, Scotch or Dutch +for all I could tell to the contrary. But each of them was broke to the +frontier; that showed in the way they sat their horses, the way they +bore themselves toward one another when clear of the post and its +atmosphere of rigidly enforced discipline. The breed I didn't take much +notice of at the time, except that when he spoke, which was seldom, he +was given to using better language than lots of white men I have known. + +At a point where the trail seemed to bear north a few degrees, Goodell +angled away from the beaten track and headed straight across country for +Pend d' Oreille. At noon we camped, and cooked a bite of dinner while +the horses grazed; ate it, and went on again. + +About three o'clock, as nearly as I could tell, we dipped into a wooded +creek bottom some two hundred yards in width. The creek itself went +brawling along in a deep-worn channel, and when my horse got knee deep +in the water he promptly stopped and plunged his muzzle into the stream. +I gave him slack rein, and let him drink his fill. The others kept on, +climbed the short, steep bank, and passed from sight over its rim. I +swung down from my horse on the brink of the creek, cinched the saddle +afresh, and rolled a cigarette. If I thought about them getting the +start of me at all, it was to reflect that they couldn't get a lead of +more than two or three hundred yards, at the gait they traveled. Judge +then of my surprise when I rode up out of the water-washed gully and +found them nowhere in sight. I pulled up and glanced about, but the +clumps of scrubby timber were just plentiful enough to cut off a clear +view of the flat. So I fell back on the simple methods of the plainsman +and Indian and jogged along on their trail. + +Not for many days did I learn truly how I came to miss them, how and why +they had vanished from the face of the earth so completely in the few +minutes I lingered in the gulch. The print of steel-rimmed hoofs showed +in the soft loam as plainly as a moccasin-track in virgin snow. Around a +grove of quaking-aspens, eternally shivering in the deadest of calms, +their trail led through the long grass that carpeted the bottom, and +suddenly ended in a strip of gravelly land that ran out from the bed of +the creek. I could follow it no farther. If there was other mark of +their passing, it was hidden from me. + +Wondering, and a bit exasperated, I spurred straight up the bank, and +when I had reached the high benchland loped to a point that overlooked +the little valley a full mile up and down. Cottonwood and willow, +cut-bank and crooning water, lay green and brown and silver-white +before, but no riders, no thing that moved in the shape of men came +within the scope of my eyes. But I wasn't done yet. I turned away from +the bank and raced up a long slope to a saw-backed ridge that promised +largely of unobstructed view. Dirty gray lather stood out in spumy rolls +around the edge of the saddle-blanket, and the wet flanks of my horse +heaved like the shoulders of a sobbing woman when I checked him on top +of a bald sandstone peak--and though as much of the Northwest as one +man's eye may hope to cover lay bared on every hand, yet the quartet +that rode with me from Fort Walsh occupied no part of the landscape. I +could look away to the horizon in every direction, and, except for one +little herd of buffalo feeding peacefully on the westward slant of the +ridge, I could see nothing but rolling prairie, a vast undulating spread +of grassland threaded here and there with darker lines that stood for +creeks and coulees, and off to the north the blue bulk of the Cypress +Hills. + +I got off and sat me down upon a rock, rolled another cigarette, and +waited. The way to Pend d' Oreille led over the ridge, a half mile on +either side of me, as the spirit moved a traveler who followed an +approximately straight line. Whatever road they had taken, they could +not be more than three or four miles from that sentinel peak--for there +is a well-defined limit to the distance a mounted man may cover in a +given length of time. And from my roost I could note the passing of +anything bigger than a buffalo yearling, within a radius of at least six +miles. Therefore, I smoked my cigarette without misgiving, and kept +close watch for bobbing black dots against the far-flung green. + +I might as well have laid down and gone to sleep on that pinnacle for +all the good my waiting and eye-straining did me. One hour slipped by +and then another, and still I did not abandon hope of their appearance. +Naturally, I argued with myself, they would turn back when I failed to +overtake them--especially if they had thoughtlessly followed some +depression in the prairie where I could not easily see them. And while I +lingered, loath to believe that they were hammering unconcernedly on +their way, the sun slid down its path in the western sky--slid down till +its lower edge rested on the rim of the world and long black shadows +began to creep mysteriously out of the low places, while buttes and +ridges gleamed with cloth of gold, the benediction of a dying day. Only +then did I own that by hook or by crook--and mostly by crook, I was +forced to suspect--they had purposely given me the slip. + +A seasoned cowpuncher hates to admit that any man, or bunch of men, can +take him out into an open country and shake him off whenever it is +desired; but if I had been a rank tenderfoot they couldn't have jarred +me loose with greater ease. It was smooth work, and I couldn't guess the +object, unless it was a Mounted Policeman's idea of an excellent +practical joke on a supposedly capable citizen from over the line. +Anyway, they had left me holding the sack in a mighty poor snipe +country. Dark was close at hand, and I was a long way from shelter. So +when the creeping shadows blanketed pinnacle and lowland alike, and all +that remained of the sun was the flamboyant crimson-yellow on the +gathering clouds, I was astride of my dun _caballo_ and heading for Pend +d' Oreille. + +But speedily another unforeseen complication arose. Before I'd gone five +miles the hoodoo that had been working overtime on my behalf got busy +again. The clouds that were rolling up from the east at sundown piled +thick and black overhead, and when dark was fairly upon me I was, for +all practical purposes, like a blind man in an unfamiliar room. It +didn't take me long to comprehend that I was merely wasting the strength +of my horse in bootless wandering; with moonlight I could have made it, +but in that murk I could not hope to find the post. So I had no choice +but to make camp in the first coulee that offered, and an exceeding lean +camp I found it--no grub, no fire, no rest, for though I hobbled my +horse I didn't dare let his rope out of my hands. + +About midnight the combination of sultry heat and banked clouds produced +the usual results. Lightning first, lightning that ripped the sky open +from top to bottom in great blazing slits, and thunder that cracked and +boomed and rumbled in sharps and flats and naturals till a man could +scarcely hear himself think; then rain in flat chunks, as if some +malignant agency had yanked the bottom out of the sky and let the +accumulated moisture of centuries drop on that particular portion of the +Northwest. In fifteen minutes the only dry part of me was the crown of +my head--thanks be to a good Stetson hat. And my arms ached from the +strain of hanging onto my horse, for, hobbled as he was, he did his best +to get up and quit Canada in a gallop when the fireworks began. To make +it even more pleasant, when the clouds fell apart and the little stars +came blinking out one by one, a chill wind whistled up on the heels of +the storm, and I spent the rest of that night shivering forlornly in my +clammy clothes. + +Still a-shiver at dawn, I saddled up and loped for the crest of the +nearest divide to get the benefit of the first sun-rays. But alas! the +hoodoo was still plodding diligently on my trail. I topped a little +rise, and almost rode plump into the hostile arms of a half-dozen +breech-clout warriors coming up the other side. I think there were about +half a dozen, but I wouldn't swear to it. I hadn't the time nor +inclination to make an exact count. The general ensemble of war-paint +and spotted ponies was enough for me; I didn't need to be told that it +was my move. My spurs fairly lifted the dun horse, and we scuttled in +the opposite direction like a scared antelope. The fact that the average +Indian is not a master hand with a gun except at short range was my +salvation. If they'd been white men I would probably have been curled in +a neat heap within two hundred yards. As it was, they shot altogether +too close for comfort, and the series of yells they turned loose in that +peaceful atmosphere made me feel that I was due to be forcibly separated +from the natural covering of my cranium if I lost any time in getting +out of their sphere of influence. + +The persistent beggars chased me a good ten miles before they drew up, +concluding, I suppose, that I was too well mounted for them to overhaul. +But it might have been a lot worse; I still had my scalp intact; the +chase and its natural excitement had brought a comfortable warmth to my +chilled body; and I had made good time in the direction I wished to go. +On the whole, I felt that the red brother had done me rather a good +turn. But I kept on high ground, thereafter, where I could see a mile or +two, for I was very much alive to the fact that if another of those +surprise-parties jumped me now that my horse was tired they would have a +good deal of fun at my expense; and an Indian's idea of fun doesn't +coincide with mine--not by a long shot! + +I made some pointed remarks to my horse about Mr. Goodell and his +companions, as I rode along. If Pend d' Oreille hadn't been the nearest +place, I'd have turned back to Walsh and made that bunch of exhumers +come back after me, if it were absolutely necessary that I should pilot +them to the graves. Personally, I thought those two old plainsmen +wouldn't thank Major Lessard or any one else for disturbing their last, +long sleep; the wide, unpeopled prairies had always been their choice in +life, and I felt that they would rather be laid away in some quiet +coulee, than in any conventional "city of the dead" with prim headstones +and iron fences to shut them in. A Western man likes lots of room; dead +or alive, it irks him to be crowded. + +I fully expected to find the four waiting for me at Pend d' Oreille, and +I was prepared to hear a good deal of chaffing about getting lost. What +of my waiting on the ridge that afternoon, and bearing more or less away +from the proper direction at night, I did not reach the post till noon; +and I was a bit puzzled to find only the men who were on duty there. I +was digesting this along with the remains of the troopers' dinner, when +Goodell and his satellites popped over the hill that looked down on Pend +d' Oreille, and, a few minutes later, came riding nonchalantly up to the +mess-house. + +"Well, you beat us in," Goodell greeted airily. "Did you find a short +cut?" + +"Sure thing," I responded, with what irony I could command. + +"Where the deuce _did_ you go, anyway, after you stopped in that +creek-bottom?" he asked, eying me with much curiosity. "We nearly played +our horses out galloping around looking for you--after we'd gone a mile +or so, and you didn't catch up." + +"Then you must have kept damned close to the coulee-bottoms," I retorted +ungraciously, "for I burnt the earth getting up on a pinnacle where you +could see me, before you had time to go very far." + +"Oh, well, it's easy to lose track of a lone man in a country as big as +this," he returned suavely. "We all got here, so what's the odds? I +guess we'll stick here till morning. We can't make the round trip this +afternoon, and I'm not camping on the hills when it's avoidable." + +It struck me that he was uncommonly philosophical about it, so I merely +grunted and went on with my dinner. + +That evening, when we went to the stable to fix up our horses for the +night, I got a clearer insight into his reason for laying over that +afternoon. They had been doing some tall riding, and their livestock was +simply unfit to go farther. The four saddle-horses looked as if they had +been dragged through a small-sized knothole; their gauntness, and the +dispirited droop of their heads, spelled complete fatigue to any man who +knew the symptoms of hard riding. By comparison, my sweat-grimed dun was +fresh as a morning breeze. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE GENTLEMAN WHO RODE IN THE LEAD. + + +It took us all of the next day to make the trip to Stony Crossing and +back by way of the place where Rutter was buried. Goodell had no fancy, +he said, for a night camp on the prairie when it could be avoided. He +planned to make an early start from Pend d' Oreille, and thus reach Walsh +by riding late the next night. So, well toward evening, we swung back to +the river post. Goodell and his fellows were nowise troubled by the +presence of dead men; they might have been packing so much merchandise, +from their demeanor. But I was a long way from feeling cheerful. The +ghastly burdens, borne none too willingly by the extra horses, put a +damper on me, and I'm a pretty sanguine individual as a rule. + +When we had unloaded the bodies from the uneasy horses, and laid them +carefully in a lean-to at the stable-end, we led our mounts inside. +Goodell paused in the doorway and emitted a whistle of surprise at sight +of a horse in one of the stalls. I looked over his shoulder and +recognized at a glance the rangy black MacRae had ridden. + +"They must have given Mac's horse to another trooper," I hazarded. + +"Not that you could notice," Goodell replied, going on in. "They don't +switch mounts in the Force. If they have now, it's the first time to my +knowledge. When a man's in clink, his nag gets nothing but mild exercise +till his rightful rider gets out. And MacRae got thirty days. Well, +we'll soon find out who rode him in." + +I pulled the saddle off my horse, slapped it down on the dirt floor, and +went stalking up to the long cabin. The first man my eyes lighted upon +as I stepped inside was MacRae, humped disconsolately on the edge of a +bunk. I was mighty glad to see him, but I hadn't time to more than say +"hello" before Goodell and the others came in. Mac drew a letter from +his pocket and handed it to Goodell. + +He glanced quickly through it, then swept the rest of us with a +quizzical smile. "By Jove! you must have a pull with the old man, Mac," +he said to MacRae. "I suppose you know what's in this epistle?" + +"Partly." Mac answered as though it were no particular concern of his. + +"I'm to turn Hicks and Gregory over to you," he read the note again to +be sure of his words, "see that you get a week's supply of grub here, +and then leave you to your own devices. What's the excitement, now? +Piegans on the war-path? Bull-train missing, or whisky-runners getting +too fresh, or what? My word, the major has certainly established a +precedent; you're the first man I've known that got thirty days in clink +and didn't have to serve it to the last, least minute. How the deuce did +you manage it? Put me on, like a good fellow--I might want to get a +sentence suspended some day. Any of us are liable to get it, y'know." +Goodell's tone was full of gentle raillery. + +"The high and mighty sent me out to lead a forlorn hope," Mac dryly +responded. "Does that look like a suspended sentence?" He turned his arm +so that we could see the ripped stitching where his sergeant's stripes +had been cut away. + +"Tough--but most of us have been there, one time or another," Goodell +observed sympathetically; and with that the subject rested. + +Though I was burning to know things, we hadn't the least chance to talk +that evening. Nine lusty-lunged adults in that one room prohibited +confidential speech. Not till next morning, when we rode away from Pend +d' Oreille with our backs to a sun that was lazily clearing the +hill-tops, did MacRae and I have an opportunity to unburden our souls. +When we were fairly under way in the direction of Writing-Stone, Hicks +and Gregory--the breed scout--lagged fifty or sixty yards behind, and +MacRae turned in his saddle and gave me a queer sort of look. + +"I wasn't joking last night when I told Goodell that this was something +of a forlorn hope," he said. "Are you ready to take a chance on getting +your throat cut or being shot in the back, Sarge?" + +I stared at him a second. It was certainly an astounding question, +coming from that source--more like the language of the villain in a +howling melodrama than a cold-blooded inquiry that called for a serious +answer. But he was looking at me soberly enough; and he wasn't in the +habit of saying startling things, unless there was a fairly solid basis +of truth in them. He was the last man in the world to accuse of saying +or doing anything merely for the sake of effect. + +"That depends," I returned. "Why?" + +"Because if we find what we're going after that's the sort of formation +we may have to buck against until we get that stuff to Walsh," he +replied coolly. "Beautiful prospect, eh? I reckon you'll understand +better if I tell you how it came about. + +"The day you left, Lessard had me up on the carpet again. When he got +through cross-questioning me, he considered a while, and finally said +that under the circumstances he felt that losing my stripes would be +punishment enough for the rank insubordination I'd been guilty of, and +he would therefore revoke the thirty-day sentence. I pricked up my ears +at that, I can tell you, because Lessard isn't built that way at all. +When a man talks to any officer the way I did to him, he gets all that's +coming, and then some for good measure. I began to see light pretty +quick, though. He went on to say that he had spoken to Miss Rowan about +her father, and had learned that without doubt those two old fellows +were headed this way with between forty and fifty thousand dollars in +gold-dust, that they'd washed on Peace River. Since I'd been on the spot +when Rutter died, and knew the Writing-Stone country so well, he thought +I would stand a better show of finding their _cache_ than any one else +he could send out. He wanted to recover that stuff for Miss Rowan, if it +were possible. So he wrote that order to Goodell and started me out to +join you--with a warning to keep our eyes open, for undoubtedly the men +who killed Rutter and held you up would be watching for a chance at us +if we found that gold." + +"Very acute reasoning on his part, I'm sure," I interrupted. "We knew +that without his telling. And if he thinks those fellows are hanging +about waiting for a whack at that dust, why doesn't he get out with a +bunch of his troopers and round them up?" + +"That's what," Mac grinned. "But wait a minute. This was about three in +the afternoon, and he ordered me to start at once so as to catch you +fellows as soon as possible. I started a few minutes after three. You +remember the paymaster's train left that morning. He had a mounted +escort of six or seven besides his teamster. The MacLeod trail runs less +than twenty miles north of here, you know. I followed it, knowing about +where they'd camp for the night, thinking I'd make their outfit and get +something to eat and a chance to sleep an hour or two; then I could come +on here early in the morning. I got to the place where I had figured +they would stop, about eleven o'clock, but they had made better time +than usual and gone farther, so I quit the trail and struck across the +hills, for I didn't want to ride too far out of my way. When I got on +top of the first divide I ran onto a little spring and stopped to water +my horse and let him pick a bit of grass; I'd been riding eight hours, +and still had quite a jaunt to make. I must have been about three miles +south of the trail then." + +He stopped to light the cigarette he had rolled while he talked, and I +kept still, wondering what would come next. MacRae wasn't the man to go +into detail like that unless he had something important to bring out. + +"I sat there about an hour, I reckon," he continued. "By that time it +was darker than a stack of black cats, and fixing to storm. I thought I +might as well be moving as sit there and get soaked to the hide. While I +was tinkering with the cinch I thought I heard a couple of shots. Of +course, I craned my neck to listen, and in a second a regular fusillade +broke out--away off, you know; about like a stick of dry wood crackling +in the stove when you're outside the cabin. I loped out of the hollow +by the spring and looked down toward the trail. The red flashes were +breaking out like a bunch of firecrackers, and with pretty much the same +sound. It didn't last long--a minute or so, maybe. I listened for a +while, but there was nothing to be seen and I heard no more shooting. +Now, I knew the pay-wagon was somewhere on that road, and it struck me +that the bunch that got Hans and Rowan and held us up might have tried +the same game on it; and from the noise I judged it hadn't been a +walkaway. It was a wild guess; but I thought I ought to go down and see, +anyway. Single-handed, and in that dark you could almost feel, I knew I +was able to sidestep the trouble, if it should be Indians or anything I +didn't care to get mixed up in. + +"I'd gone about a mile down the slope when the lightning began to tear +the sky open. In five minutes the worst of it was right over me, and one +flash came on top of the other so fast it was like a big eye winking +through the clouds. One second the hills and coulees would show plain as +day, and next you'd have to feel to find the ears of your horse. I +pulled up, for I didn't care to go down there with all that +lightning-play to make a shining mark of me, and while I sat there +wondering how long it was going to last, a long, sizzling streak went +zig-zagging up out of the north and another out of the east, and when +they met overhead and the white glare spread over the clouds, it was +like the sun breaking out over the whole country. It lit up every ridge +and hollow for two or three seconds, and showed me four riders tearing +up the slope at a high run. I don't think they saw me at all, for they +passed me, in the dark that shut down after that flash of lightning, so +close that I could hear the pat-a-pat of the hoofs. And when the next +flash came they were out of sight. + +"Right after that the rain hit me like a cloudburst. That was over +quick, and by the time it had settled to a drizzle I was down in the +paymaster's camp. Things were sure in an uproar there. Two men killed, +two more crippled, and the paymaster raving like a maniac. I hadn't been +far wide of the mark. The men that passed me on the ridge had held up +the outfit--and looted fifty thousand dollars in cold cash." + +"Fifty thousand--the devil!" I broke in. "And they got away with it?" + +"With all the ease in the world," MacRae answered calmly. "They made a +sneak on the camp in the dark, clubbed both sentries, and had their guns +on the rest before they knew what was wrong. They got the money, and +every horse in camp. The shooting I heard came off as they started away +with the plunder. Some of the troopers grabbed up their guns and cut +loose at random, and these hold-up people returned the compliment with +deadly effect. + +"That isn't all," he continued moodily. "I stayed there till daylight, +and then gathered up their stock. All the thieves wanted of the horses +was to set the outfit afoot for the time being--a trick which bears the +earmarks of the bunch that got in their work on us. They had turned the +horses loose a mile or so away, and I found them grazing together. When +I'd brought them in I got a bite to eat and came on about my own +business. + +"Up on the ridge, close by the spring I had stopped at, I came slap on +their track; the four horses had pounded a trail in the wet sod that a +kid could follow. I tore back to the paymaster's camp and begged him to +get his men mounted and we would follow it up. But he wouldn't listen to +such a thing. I don't know why, unless he had some money they had +overlooked and was afraid they might come back for another try at him. +So I went back and hit the trail alone. It led south for a while, and +then east to Sage Creek. This was day before yesterday, you _sabe_. Near +noon I found a place where they'd _cached_ two extra horses in the brush +on Sage Creek. After that their track turned straight west again, and it +was hard to follow, for the ground was drying fast. Finally I had to +quit--couldn't make out hoof-marks any more. And it was so late I had to +lie out that night. I got to Pend d' Oreille yesterday morning two or +three hours after you fellows left for the crossing." + +I haven't quite got a gambler's faith in a hunch, or presentiment, or +intuitive conclusion--whatever term one chooses to apply--but from the +moment he spoke of seeing four riders on a ridge during that frolic of +the elements, a crazy idea kept persistently turning over and over in my +mind; and when Mac got that far I blurted it out for what it was worth, +prefacing it with the happenings of the trip from Walsh to Pend +d' Oreille. He listened without manifesting the interest I looked for, +tapping idly on the saddle-horn, and staring straight ahead with an odd +pucker about his mouth. + +"I was just going to ask you if you all came through together," he +observed, in a casual tone. "I neglected to say that I got a pretty fair +look at those fellows. In fact, I wouldn't hesitate to swear to the face +of the gentleman who rode in the lead of the four." + +"You did? Was it--was my hunch right?" I demanded eagerly. + +"I could turn in my saddle and shoot his eye out," MacRae responded +whimsically. "And I don't know but that would be more than justice. Of +course, the others were the men, but I'm positive of Gregory. You see +what we're up against, Sarge. + +"That's why," he soberly concluded, "I think we'll have our hands full +if we do locate that stuff. It's a big chunk of money, and a little +thing like killing a man or two won't trouble them. We'll be watched +every minute of the time that we prowl around those painted rocks; +that's a cinch. And when we've pulled the chestnut out of the fire +they'll gobble it--if there's the ghost of a chance." + +While I was digesting this unpalatable information, Hicks and Gregory +spurred abreast of us; for the remainder of the journey we four rode +elbow to elbow, and conversation was scant. + +Mid-afternoon found us camped under the Stone. Once on the ground, I +began to think we were in no immediate danger of getting our throats cut +for the sake of the treasure. Rutter had said "under the Stone"--and the +vagueness of his words came home to me with considerable force, for the +Stone, roughly estimated, was a good mile in length. It paralleled the +river, a perpendicular wall of gray sandstone. An aptly-named place; +wherever a ledge offered foothold, and even in places that seemed wholly +beyond reach of human hands, the bald front of the cliff was chiseled +with rude traceries--the picture-writing of the Blackfoot tribe. The +history of a thousand battles and buffalo-hunts was written there. And +somewhere at the foot of that mile-long cliff, under the uncouth figures +carved by the red men in their hour of triumphant ease, rested that +which we had come to find. I sat with my back against a cottonwood and +smoked a cigarette while I considered the impassive front of +Writing-On-the-Stone; and the fruit of my consideration was that he who +sought for the needle in the haystack had no more difficult task than +ours. + +In due time we ate supper, and dark spread its mantle over the land. +Then MacRae and I crawled up on a projecting ledge of rock to roll out +our blankets--in a place where we could not well be surprised. Not that +either of us anticipated anything of the sort so early in the game; when +we had found what we were after, that would come. But the mere fact +that we were all playing a part made us incline to caution. I don't know +if we betrayed our knowledge or suspicions to Hicks and Gregory, but it +was a good deal of an effort to treat those red-handed scoundrels as if +they were legitimate partners in a risky enterprise. We had to do it, +though. Until they showed their hand we could do nothing but stand pat +and wait for developments; and if they watched us unobtrusively, we did +the same by them. It is not exactly soothing to the nerves, however, to +be in touch all day and then lie down to sleep at night within a few +feet of men whom you imagine are only awaiting the proper moment to +introduce a chunk of lead into your system or slip a knife under your +fifth rib. I can't truthfully say that I slept soundly on that ledge. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +WE LOSE AGAIN. + + +Three days later MacRae and I scaled the steep bank at the west end of +the cliff and threw ourselves, panting, on the level that ran up to the +sheer drop-off. When we had regained the breath we'd lost on that +Mansard-roof climb we drew near to the edge, where we could stare into +the valley three hundred feet below while we made us a cigarette apiece. +We were just a mite discouraged. Beginning that first morning at the +east end of the Writing-Stone we had worked west, conning the +weather-worn face of it for a mark that would give a clue to the +_cache_. Also we had scanned carefully the sandy soil patches along the +boulder-strewn base, seeking the tell-tale footprints of horse or man. +And we had found nothing. Each day the conviction grew stronger upon us +that finding that gold would be purely chance, a miracle of luck; +systematic search had so far resulted in nothing but blistered heels +from much walking. And unless we did find it, thereby giving the +gentlemen of the mask some incentive to match themselves against us once +more, we were not likely to have the opportunity of breaking up a nervy +bunch of murdering thieves. + +We reasoned that the men whose guns we had looked into over Rutter's +body and those who robbed the paymaster on the MacLeod trail were tarred +with the same stick; likewise, that even now two of them ate out of the +same pot with us three times daily. The thing was to prove it. +Personally, the paymaster's trouble was none of my concern; what I +wanted was to get back that ten thousand dollars, or deal those hounds +ten thousand dollars' worth of misery. Not that I wasn't willing to take +a long chance to help Lyn to her own, but I was human enough to remember +that I had a good deal at stake myself. It was a rather depressed +stock-hand, name of Flood, who blew cigarette smoke out over the brow of +Writing-Stone that evening. + +Mac finished smoking and ground the stub into the earth with his heel. +For another minute or two he sat there without speaking, absently +flipping pebbles over the bank. + +"I reckon we might as well poke along the top to camp," he said at last, +getting to his feet. "I sent that breed back, down there, so we could +talk without having to keep cases on him. This is beginning to look like +a hopeless case, isn't it?" + +"Somewhat," I admitted. "I did think that Rutter's description would put +us on the right track when we got there; but I can't see much meaning in +it now. I suppose we'll just have to keep on going it blind." + +"We'll have to stay with it while there's any chance," he said +thoughtfully. "But I've been thinking that it might be a good plan to +take a fall out of those two." He jerked his thumb in the direction of +camp. "If we have sized things up right, they'll make some sort of move, +and if we're mistaken there will be no harm done. I'll tell you an idea +that popped into my head a minute ago. We can pretend to locate the +stuff. Fix up a couple of dummy sacks, you know, and get them to camp +and packed on the horse without letting them see what's inside. If Lyn +gave Lessard the right figures, there should be between a hundred and +forty or fifty pounds of dust. It's small in bulk, but weighty as a bad +conscience. If we had a couple of little sacks we could get around that +problem, easy enough--this black sand along the river would pass for +gold-dust in weight. We could make the proper sort of play, and give +them the chance they're looking for. If they make a break it'll be up to +us to get the best of the trouble." + +"It might work," I replied. "If you think it would make them tip their +hand, I'm with you. This watch-the-other-fellow business is making me +nervous as an old woman. Once we had those two dead to rights they might +let out something that would enable us to land the whole bunch, and the +plunder besides; once we had them rounded up we could come back here and +hunt for Hank Rowan's gold-dust in peace." + +"You've got the idea exactly, and we'll see what we can do in the +morning," Mac returned. "But don't get married to the notion that +they'll cough up all they know, right off the reel. Hicks might, if you +went at him hard enough. But not the other fellow. Gregory's game clear +through--he's demonstrated that in different ways since I've been in the +Force. You could carve him to pieces without hearing a cheep, if he +decided to keep his mouth shut. And he's about as dangerous a man in a +scrimmage as I know. If there's a row, don't overlook Mr. Gregory." + +We hoofed it toward camp as briskly as our galled feet would permit, for +the sun was getting close to the sky line, and talked over Mac's scheme +as we went. There was no danger of being overheard on that bench. As a +matter of fact, Hicks and Gregory didn't know we were up there; at +least, they were not supposed to know. MacRae had made a practice of +leaving one or the other in camp, in case some prowling Indians should +spy our horses and attempt to run them off. That afternoon Hicks had +been on guard. When Mac started Gregory back he told him that we would +be along presently, then sat himself down on a rock and watched the +breed. When he was far enough up the flat to lose track of our movements +we dropped into a convenient washout and sneaked along it to the foot of +the bank, where a jutting point of rock hid sight of us climbing the +hill. + +We had no thought of spying on them, at first--it was simply to be rid +of their onerous presence for a while, and getting on the bench was an +afterthought. But as we came opposite camp, MacRae took a notion to look +down and see what they were about. At a point which overlooked the +bottom some two hundred yards from the east end of the Stone, we got +down on our stomachs and wriggled carefully to the naked rim of the +cliff. For some time we laid there, peering down at the men below. Hicks +was puttering around the fire, evidently cooking supper, and Gregory was +moving the picket rope of his horse to fresh grass. There was nothing +out of the ordinary to be seen, and I drew back. But MacRae still kept +his place. When he did back away from the edge, he had the look of a man +who has made some important discovery. + +"On my soul, I believe I've found it," he calmly announced. + +"What!" + +"I believe I have," he repeated, a trace of exultation in his tone. "At +least, it amounts to the same thing. Crawl up there again, Sarge, and +look straight down at the first ledge from the bottom. Hurry; you won't +see anything if the sun has left it. And be careful how you show your +head. We don't want to get them stirred up till we have to." + +Cautiously I peeped over the brink, straight down as Mac had directed. +The shadow that follows on the heels of a setting sun was just creeping +over the ledge, but the slanting rays lingered long enough to give me +sight of a glittering patch on the gray stone shelf below. While I +stared the sun withdrew its fading beams from the whole face of the +cliff, but even in the duller light a glint of yellow showed dimly, a +pin point of gold in the deepening shadow. + +Gold! I drew back from the rim of Writing-On-the-Stone, that set of +whispered phrases echoing in my ears. Mac caught my eye and grinned. +"_Gold--raw gold--on the rock--above._" I mouthed the words parrotlike, +and he nodded comprehendingly. + +"Oh, thunder!" I exclaimed. "Do you reckon _that's_ what he meant?" + +"What else?" Mac reasoned. "They'd mark the place somehow--and aren't +those his exact words? What dummies we were not to look on those ledges +before. You can't see the surface of them from the flat; and we might +have known they would hardly put a mark where it could be seen by any +pilgrim who happened to ride through that bottom." + +"Hope you're right," I grunted optimistically. + +"We'll know beyond a doubt, in the morning," Mac declared. "To-night we +won't do anything but eat, drink, and sleep as sound as possible, for +to-morrow we may have one hell of a time. I prefer to have a few hours +of daylight ahead of us when we raise that _cache_. Things are apt to +tighten, and I don't like a rumpus in the dark. Just now I'm hungry. If +that stuff is there, it will keep. Come on to camp; our troubles are +either nearly over or just about to begin in earnest." + +We followed the upland past the end of the Stone till we found a slope +that didn't require wings for descent. If Hicks or Gregory wondered at +our arrival from the opposite direction in which we should have +appeared, they didn't betray any unseemly curiosity. Supper and a +cigarette or two consumed the twilight hour, and when dark shut down we +took to our blankets and dozed through the night. + +At daybreak we breakfasted. Without a word to any one MacRae picked up +his carbine and walked out of camp. I followed, equally silent. It was +barely a hundred yards to the ledge, and I caught myself wishing it were +a good deal farther--out of range of those watchful eyes. I couldn't +help wondering how it would feel to be potted at the moment of +discovery. + +"I thought I'd leave them both behind, and let them take it out in +guessing," Mac explained, when we stood under the rock shelf upon which +we had looked down the evening before. "We're right under their noses, +so they won't do anything till the stuff's actually in sight." + +He studied the face of the cliff for a minute. The ledge jutted out from +the towering wall approximately twenty feet above our heads, but it +could be reached by a series of jagged points and knobs; a sort of +natural stairway--though some of the steps were a long way apart. +Boulders of all shapes and sizes lay bedded in the soft earth where we +stood. + +"You shin up there, Sarge," Mac commanded, "and locate that mark. It +ought to be an easy climb." + +I "shinned," and reached the ledge with a good deal of skin peeled from +various parts of my person. The first object my eye fell upon as I +hoisted myself above the four-foot shelf was a dull, yellow spot on the +gray rock, near enough so that I could lean forward and touch it with my +fingers. A two-inch circle of the real thing--I'd seen enough gold in +the raw to know it without any acid test--hammered into the coarse +sandstone. I pried it up with the blade of my knife and looked it over. +Originally it had been a fair-sized nugget. Hans or Rowan had pounded it +into place with the back of a hatchet (the corner-marks told me that), +flattening it to several times its natural diameter. I threw it down to +MacRae, and looked carefully along the ledge. There was no other mark +that I could see; I began to wonder if we were as hot on the scent as we +had thought. + +"Is there a loose piece of rock up there?" Mac called presently. "If +there is, set it on the edge, in line with where this was." + +I found a fragment about the size of my fist and set it on the rim of +the ledge. He squinted up at it a moment, then nodded, smiling. + +"Come on down now, Sarge," he grinned; and, seating himself on a rock +with the carbine across his knees, he began to roll a cigarette, as if +the finding of Hank Rowan's gold-_cache_ were a thing of no importance +whatever. + +"Well," I began, when I had negotiated that precarious succession of +knobs and notches and accumulated a fresh set of bruises, "why don't you +get busy? How much wiser are you now? Where's your gold-dust?" + +He took a deliberate puff and squinted up at the ledge again. "I'm +sitting on it, as near as I can figure," he coolly asserted. + +"Yes, you are," I fleered. "I'm from Missouri!" + +"Oh, you're a doubting Thomas of the first water," he said. "Stand +behind me, you confounded unbeliever. Kink your back a little and look +over that stone you set for a mark. Do you see anything that catches +your attention?" + +Getting in the position he suggested, I looked up. Away back in the days +before the white man was a power to be reckoned with in the Indian's +scheme of things, some warrior had stood upon that self-same ledge and +hacked out with a flint chisel what he and his fellows doubtless +considered a work of art. Uncanny-looking animals, and uncannier figures +that might have passed for anything from an articulated skeleton to a +Missing Link, cavorted in a long line across that tribal +picture-gallery. Between each group of figures the face of the rock was +scored with mysterious signs and rudely limned weapons of war and chase. +Right over the stone marker, a long-shafted war-lance was carved--the +blade pointing down. MacRae's seat, stone-marker, and aboriginal +spearhead; the three lined up like the sights of a modern rifle. The +conclusion, in the light of what we knew from Rutter, was obvious, even +to a lunkhead like myself. + +"It looks like you might have struck it," I was constrained to admit. + +Mac threw away his cigarette. "Here and now is where we find out," he +declared. + +Worming our fingers under the edge of the boulder, we lifted with all +the strength that was in us. For a second it seemed that we could never +budge it. Then it began to rise slowly, so slowly that I thought the +muscles of my back would snap, and MacRae's face close by mine grew red +and then purple with the strain. But it moved, and presently a great +heave turned it over. Bedded in the soft earth underneath lay the slim +buckskin sacks. Our fingers, I remember, trembled a bit as we stood one +on end and loosened its mouth to make sure if we had found the treasure +for which two men had already lost their lives. + +[Illustration: BEDDED IN THE SOFT EARTH UNDERNEATH LAY THE SLIM BUCKSKIN +SACKS. + +_Page 159._] + +"Here"--Mac handed me his carbine--"you stay with the yellow temptation. +From now on we'll have to keep a close eye on this stuff, and likewise +have our guns handy. I'll make those fellows pack up and bring the +horses here. Then we'll load this and pull for Walsh." + +His first move was to saddle his black horse and my dun. These he led to +the fire, and thereafter stood a little to one side, placidly consuming +a cigarette while the other two packed the camp-outfit and saddled their +own mounts. Then they trailed across the flat toward me, MacRae blandly +bringing up the rear. He wasn't taking any chances. + +Half an hour later, with the sacks of gold securely lashed on the +_aparejos_ of the pack-horse, we climbed out of Writing-Stone bottom and +swung away over the silent tablelands. + +With Writing-on-the-Stone scarcely three miles behind, the +long-abandoned burrow of a badger betrayed us into the hands of the +enemy. (What a power for thwarting the plans of men little things +sometimes exercise!) We had contrived that Gregory should lead the +pack-horse, which gave MacRae and me both hands to use in case of a +hostile demonstration; that there would be such, neither of us doubted +from the moment those two laid eyes on the buckskin sacks. The sidelong, +covetous glance that passed between them bespoke what was in their +minds. And from that time on the four of us were like so many +open-headed casks of powder sitting by a fire; sooner or later a spark +would bring the explosion. We had them at a disadvantage trotting across +the level upland, Gregory in the lead and Hicks sandwiched between Mac +and myself--until MacRae's horse planted his foreleg to the knee in an +old badger-hole hidden under a rank accumulation of grass. The black +pitched forward so suddenly that Mac had no time to swing clear, and as +he went down under the horse Gregory's agile brain grasped the +opportunity of the situation, and his gun flashed out of its scabbard. + +My hand flew to mine as I jerked the dun up short, but I wasn't fast +enough--and Hicks was too close. It was a trilogy of gun-drawing. +Gregory drew his and fired at MacRae with the devilish quickness of a +striking rattler; I drew with intent to get Mr. Gregory; and Hicks drew +his and slapped me over the head with it, even as my finger curled on +the trigger. My gun went off, I know--afterward I had a dim recollection +of a faint report--but whether the bullet went whistling into the blue +above or buried itself in the broad bosom of the Territory, I can't say. +Things ceased to happen, right then and there, so far as I was +concerned. And I haven't satisfied myself yet why Hicks struck instead +of shooting; unless he had learned the frontier lesson that a bullet in +a vital spot doesn't _always_ incapacitate a man for deadly gun-play, +while a hard rap on the head invariably does. It wasn't any scruple of +mercy, for Hicks was as cold-blooded a brute as ever glanced down a +gun-barrel. + +When my powers of sight and speech and hearing returned, MacRae stood +over me, nowise harmed. The black horse lay where he had fallen. I sat +up and glanced about, thankful that I was still in the flesh, but in a +savage mood for all that. This, thought I, is a dismal-looking +outcome--two men and a dead horse left high and dry on the sun-flooded +prairie. And a rampant ache in my head, seconded by a medium-sized gash +in the scalp, didn't make for an access of optimism at that moment. + +"Well," I burst out profanely, "we lose again, eh?" + +"Looks like it," Mac answered laconically. Then he whirled about and +walked to a little point some distance away, where he stood with his +back to me, looking toward Lost River. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +OUTLAWED. + + +I sat where I was for a while, fingering my sore head and keeping my +thoughts to myself, for I had a keen sense of the mood he was in. For +the second time, through no fault of his own, he had failed to live up +to that tradition of the Force which accepts nothing short of +unqualified victory for a Mounted Policeman when he clashes with +breakers of the law. And, in addition, he had let slip through his +fingers a fortune that belonged to a woman for whom he cared a great +deal more than he was willing to admit. I felt pretty small and ashamed +myself, to think of the ease with which they had left us afoot on the +bald prairie after all our scheming, our precaution against something we +were sure would happen; and there was no responsibility on my +shoulders--except for that ten thousand of La Pere's, which I was +beginning to think I'd looked my last upon. Mac had not only the +knowledge of personal failure--bitter enough, itself, to a man of his +temperament--to gnaw at him, but the prospect of another grilling from +the powers in gold braid. It would have been strange if he hadn't felt +blue. + +He came back, however, in a few minutes, and squatting beside me +abstractedly got out papers and tobacco. + +"I suppose that bunch will quit the country now," he remarked at length. +"They've got their hands on a heap of money in the last ten days; all +they'll have a chance to grab for some time. And they've come out into +the open. So there's not much doubt of their next move--they'll be on +the wing." + +"Well, we have a cinch on identifying them now," I commented. "We've got +that much out of the deal. If the Mounted Police are half as good +man-hunters as they are said to be, they ought to round up that bunch in +short order. Did the black hurt you when he fell?" + +"Bruised my leg some," he returned indifferently. Then, scowling at the +remembrance: "If he hadn't caught me right under him I'd have got +action on those two. But the jar threw my six-shooter where I couldn't +reach it, and the carbine was jammed in the stirrup-leather on the wrong +side. I reckon Gregory thought he got me first shot. He would have, too, +only Crow threw up his head and stopped the bullet instead of me. They +had ducked into that coulee by the time I got clear. Hicks grabbed your +horse and took him along. I'm somewhat puzzled to know why they didn't +stand pat and make a clean job of us both. Blast them, anyway!" + +"Same here, and more of it," I fervently exclaimed. + +"Come on, let's get out of here," Mac abruptly proposed. "We'll have to +make Pend d' Oreille and send word to Walsh. It'll take the whole force +to catch them now." + +My gun lay where it had fallen when Hicks whacked me over the head. I +picked it up, replaced the empty cartridge, and shoved it back into the +scabbard. MacRae hoisted the carbine to his shoulder, and we started. + +We poked along slowly at first, for I was still a bit dizzy from that +blow. Before long we came to a spring seeping from the hillside, and +when I had bathed my head in the cool water I began to feel more like +myself. Thereafter, we tramped silently across high, dry benches, slid +and scrambled to the bottoms of an endless succession of coulees, and +wearily climbed the steep banks that lay beyond. The cool morning wind +died away; the sun reeled up on its appointed circle, glaring brazenly +into every nook and cranny in the land. Underfoot, the dry sod grew +warm, then hot, till the soles of our boots became instruments of +torture to feet that were sadly galled by fruitless tramping around the +Stone. When a man has grown up in the habit of mounting a horse to +travel any distance over three hundred yards, a walk of twenty +undulating miles over a network of bald ridges and yawning coulees makes +him think that a sulphur-and-brimstone hereafter can't possibly hold +much discomfort that he hasn't sampled. A cowpuncher in high-heeled +riding-boots is handicapped for pedestrianism by both training and +inclination--and that scarred and wrinkled portion of the Northwest is a +mighty poor strolling-ground for any man. + +But we kept on, for the simple reason that there was nothing else we +could do. MacRae wasted no breath in words. If the heat and the ungodly +steepness of the hills and the luke-warm water that trickled along the +creek channels ruffled his temper, he made no noise about it, only +pressed doggedly toward Pend d' Oreille. I daresay he thought I was +attending to that part of it, registering a complaint for both of us. +And if I didn't rise to the occasion it was the fault of my limited +vocabulary. I kept a stiff backbone for a while, but presently a futile +rage against circumstances bubbled up and boiled over. I climbed each +succeeding canyon wall oozing perspiration and profanity, and when the +top was reached took fresh breath and damned the Northwest by sections +in a large, fluent manner of speech. In time, however, the foolishness +of this came home to me, and I subsided into spasmodic growling, saving +my wind for the miles yet to cover. + +Well past noon we reached the summit of a hog-backed ridge that +overlooked the tortuous windings of Lost River, a waterless channel +between banks that were void of vegetation. The crest of the divide was +studded with great outcroppings of sand-stone, and in the shadow of one +giant rock we laid down to rest before we descended into that barren +valley where the heat-waves shimmered like crepon silk. The cool bit of +earth was good to stretch upon; for nearly an hour we laid there, beyond +reach of the glowing sun; it was worth almost the treasure we had lost +to ease our aching feet. Then reluctantly we started again. + +As we stepped from behind the rock three riders came into sight on the +opposite slope of Lost River. A moment's scrutiny assured us that they +were Mounted Policemen. From habit our eyes swept the surrounding +country, and in a moment we observed other groups of mounted men, an +equal distance apart and traveling in the same general direction--like a +round-up sweeping over a cattle-range. + +"They're out for somebody. I shouldn't be surprised if they have +smelled out our friends," said MacRae. "And seeing this bunch is heading +right toward us, we might as well take it easy here till they come up." + +Returning to the cool shade, we waited till they crossed that miniature +desert. I looked once or twice, and hoped we would not have to walk over +it; I'd seen the Mohave and the Staked Plains, and I knew it was +sizzling hot in that ancient river-bed--it _is_ hot, and dry, when the +heat-waves play tricks with objects seen from afar. Those three riders +moved in a transparent haze, distorted, grotesque figures; now giants, +broad, uncouth shapes; now pigmies astride of horses that progressed +slowly on long, stiltlike legs, again losing form and waving like tall, +slender trees swayed by vagrant winds. After a time they ascended above +the level where the superheated atmosphere played its pranks, and came +riding up the ridge in their true presentment. When they got within +shouting distance we stepped into the sunlight and hailed them. + +From the moment that they jerked up their horses at MacRae's call, I +had an odd sense of impending trouble. For an instant it seemed as if +they were about to break for cover; and when they approached us there +was a strained, expectant expression on each tanned face, a wariness in +their actions that looked unnatural to me. The nearer they came the more +did I feel keyed up for some emergency. I can't explain why; that's +something that I don't think will bear logical analysis. Who can explain +the sixth sense that warns a night-herder of a stampede a moment before +the herd jumps off the bed-ground? But that is how I felt--and +immediately it transpired that there was good reason. + +They stopped their horses within ten feet of us and dismounted, all +three of them, a corporal and two privates, in the same breath that we +said "hello." The corporal, rather chalky-looking under his tan, stepped +forward and laid a hand on MacRae's shoulder. + +"Gordon MacRae and Sarge Flood, in the Queen's name I arrest you for the +robbery of Paymaster Ingstram on the MacLeod trail and the murder of +two of his escort, and I warn you that anything you may say will be used +against you." + +He poured it out without pause or inflection, like a lesson well +learned, a little ceremony of speech that it was well to hurry over; and +the two troopers edged nearer, the right hand of each stealing toward +the pistol that rested on his hip. It took nerve to beard us that way, +when one comes to think it over. If we had been guilty of that raid, it +was dollars to doughnuts that we would resist arrest, and according to +the rules and regulations of the Force, they were compelled to take a +long chance. A Mounted Policeman can't use his gun except in +self-defense. He isn't supposed to smoke up a fugitive unless the +fugitive begins to throw lead his way--which method of procedure gives a +man who is, in the vernacular, "on the dodge" all the best of a +situation like that; for it gives an outlaw a chance to take the +initiative, and the first shot often settles an argument of that kind. +The dominating idea, as I understood it, was that the majesty of the law +should prove a sufficiently powerful weapon; and in the main it did. No +thief, murderer, or smuggler ever yet successfully and systematically +defied it. Men have gone to the bad up there--robbed, murdered, +defrauded, killed a Policeman or two, maybe, but in the end were +gathered in by "the riders of the plains" and dealt with according to +their just deserts. So it has come to pass throughout the length and +breadth of the Northwest that "in the Queen's name" out of the mouth of +an unarmed redcoat, with one hand lightly on your shoulder, carries more +weight than a smoking gun. + +None of this occurred to me, just then. The one thing that loomed big in +my mind's eye was the monstrous injustice of the accusation. Coming +right on top of what I'd lately experienced at the hands of the men who +had really done that dirty job--my head still tingled from the impact of +Hicks' pistol--it stirred up all the ugliness I was capable of, and a +lot that I had never suspected. No Fort Walsh guardhouse for me! No +lying behind barred windows, with my feet chain-hobbled like a straying +horse, while the slow-moving Canadian courts debated my guilt or +innocence! Not while I had the open prairie underfoot and the summer sky +above, and hands to strike a blow or pull a trigger. + +Even had I been alone I think that I was crazy enough, for the moment, +to have matched myself single-handed against the three of them. In which +case I should likely have bidden a premature farewell to all earthly +interests--though I might, perhaps, have managed to take with me a +Policeman or two for company on the long trail. But a queer look that +flashed over MacRae's face, a suggestive drawing back of his arm, +intimated that something of the same was in his mind. Heavens, but a man +can think a lot in the space of time it takes to count three! + +I jumped for the two troopers, with a frenzied notion that I could put +them both out of business if MacRae would only attend to the corporal. +The distance didn't permit of gun-play; and, hot as I was, I had the +sense to know that those men weren't responsible for my troubles; I +didn't want to kill them, if I could help it--what I desired above all +else was to get away, and burn powder with Hicks, Gregory and Co., if +powder-burning was to be on the programme. They did try to pull their +guns, but I was too close. I spoiled their good intentions by kicking +one with all the force I could muster, and throwing my arms in a fervent +embrace about the neck of the other. + +A number eight box-toed riding-boot planted suddenly in the pit of one's +stomach brings about the same result as a kick from a vigorous Missouri +mule, I should imagine; anyway, that Mounted Policeman was eliminated as +a fighting unit from the instant my toe made connections with his +person. The other fellow and I went to the ground, and our struggle was +of short duration, for Mac bought into the ruction with his carbine for +a club, and under its soothing touch my wiry antagonist ceased from +troubling. I scrambled to my feet and glanced around. The corporal was +sprawled on the grass, his face to the sky. + +"We've burned our bridges now, sure as fate," Mac broke out. "Here, +I'll peel the guns off the bunch, and you lead their horses up to the +rock out of sight of these other fellows. If they catch sight of us +milling around here they're apt to swing over this way to see what's +up." + +I led the horses close to the boulder and left them standing there while +I hurried back. By that time the fellow I'd kicked had so far recovered +as to sit up, and the look he gave us was a scorcher. MacRae, with +cocked carbine to emphasize his command, ordered him to drag his comrade +to where the horses stood; and I followed after, lugging the insensible +corporal to the same shady place. + +"I want to know the how of this," Mac demanded of the trooper. "Who +issued orders for our arrest on this damn fool charge? And when?" + +"Lessard give us our orders," the Policeman growled. "He's been out with +a whole bloomin' troop ever since he got word the paymaster 'ad bin +stuck up. We got a commissary along, an' nooned about ten miles east o' +here. After dinner--about two or three hours ago--he lined us up an' +said as 'ow he'd got word that you two fellers 'ad bin identified as +bein' the chaps as pulled off that paymaster row, an' that he wanted +you. Said he 'ad reason t' believe you was some'ers between Lost River +an' the Stone, an' you was t' be captured without fail. An' that's all I +know about it," he concluded frankly, "except that you fellers is bloody +fools t' make a break like this. It'll go that much 'arder with +you--there ain't a bloomin' chance for you t' get away. You might just +as well give up peaceable." + +"Oh, don't preach," MacRae protested. "I know all that as well as you +do. Great Scott! Burky, you've known me ever since I joined; do you +imagine for a minute that I was in on that hold-up? Why, you know +better. If I'd done anything so damned rotten, I'd have been out of the +country long before this." + +"Orders is orders," Burky sententiously observed. "Headquarters sez +you're t' be took in, an' you'll be took in, no matter what a feller's +private opinion happens t' be. I ain't no bloomin' judge an' jury t' +set on your case, anyway. You'll get a square trial--same as everybody +gets. But you ain't a-helpin' yourself a-cuttin' of didoes like this." + +"I haven't time to go into details," Mac told him, "and I don't suppose +you'd believe me if I did. But I've a blamed good reason for not wanting +to put in several months cooling my heels under guard while the men that +got the stuff get clear out of the country. We're going to take two of +these horses, because we'll need them in our business; and we'll leave +your guns at that big rock down the ridge. I don't want to hurt you, +Burky, but if you start making signals to the rest of the bunch before +we get out of sight, you'll go back to Walsh feet first. So be good. +You'll see us again before long." + +When we were ready to mount, MacRae fired another question at Burky. +"Say, have you seen anything of Frank Hicks or Paul Gregory to-day?" + +"They was both in camp at noon," the trooper replied. + +"Huh! They were, eh?" MacRae swung up, and spoke from the saddle. "Well, +if you see them again, tell them we'll sure give them a hard run for +the money. And if you've got your month's pay on you, Burky, you'd +better keep your hand on it while those two pilgrims are about." + +We took the third horse along as a precautionary measure. At a boulder +down the ridge we left him, together with their belts, as Mac had +promised. The only bit of their property we kept besides the horses was +a pair of field-glasses--something that we knew would be priceless to +men who were practically outlawed. For the next two hours we slunk like +coyotes in coulee-bottoms and deep washouts, until we saw the commissary +wagon cross the ridge west of Lost River, saw from a safe distance the +brown specks that were riders, casting in wide circles for sight of us +or our trail. + +Then MacRae leaned over his saddle-horn and made a wry face at them. + +"Hunt, confound you," he said, almost cheerfully. "We'll give you some +hunting to do before you're through with us." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +A CLOSE CALL. + + +We were standing in a brushy pocket on the side of a hill, and as there +was no immediate danger of our being seen, MacRae continued, by the aid +of the glasses, to follow the movements of our would-be captors. + +"D'you know that plunder can't be far away; those fellows haven't had +much time to make their _cache_," he reflected, more to himself than to +me. "I wonder how they accounted to Lessard for us. Just think of +it--somewhere within twenty miles of us there's in the neighborhood of a +hundred thousand dollars of stolen money, planted till they can get it +safely; and the men that got away with it are helping the law to run us +down. That's a new feature of the case; one, I must say, that I didn't +look for." + +He lowered the glasses, and regarded me soberly. + +"They fight fire with fire in a grass country," he observed. "The +Mounted Police are a hard formation to buck against--but I've a mind to +see this thing to a finish. How do you feel about it, Sarge? Will you go +through?" + +"All the way and back again," I promised recklessly. I wasn't sure of +what he had in mind, but I knew _him_--and seeing that we were in the +same boat, I thought it fitting that we should sink or swim together. + +"We'll come out on top yet," he confidently asserted. "Meantime we'd +better locate some secluded spot and give our nags a chance to fill up +on grass and be fresh for to-morrow; we're apt to have a hard day." + +"It wouldn't be a bad scheme to fill ourselves at the same time," I +suggested. "I'm feeling pretty vacant inside. The first bunch of buffalo +that has a fat calf along is going to hear from me." + +"If we can get over this ridge without being seen, there's a canyon with +some cottonwoods and a spring in it. That will be as good a place to +hole up for the night as we can find," Mac decided. "And there will +likely be some buffalo near there." + +So we ascended cautiously to the top of the divide, keeping in the +coulees as much as possible, for we knew that other field-glasses would +be focused on the hills. Once over the crest, we halted and watched for +riders coming our way. But none appeared. Once I thought I glimpsed a +moving speck on the farther bank of Lost River. MacRae brought the +glasses to bear, and said it was two Policemen jogging toward camp. Then +we were sure that our flight had not been observed, and we dropped into +a depression that gradually deepened to a narrow-bottomed canyon. Two +miles down this we came to the spring of which MacRae had spoken, a tiny +stream issuing from a crevice at the foot of the bank. What was equally +important, a thick clump of cottonwood and willow furnished tolerably +secure concealment. + +The fates smiled on us in the matter of food very shortly. I'm not +enamored of a straight meat diet as a rule, but that evening I was in no +mood to carp at anything half-way eatable. While we were on our +stomachs gratefully stowing away a draught of the cool water, I heard a +buffalo bull lift his voice in challenge to another far down the canyon. +We tied our horses out of sight in the timber and stole in the direction +of the sound. A glorious bull-fight was taking place when we got within +shooting-distance, the cows and calves forming a noisy circle about the +combatants, each shaggy brown brute bawling with all the strength of +bovine lungs; in that pandemonium of bellowing and trampling I doubt if +the report of Mac's carbine could have been heard two hundred yards +away. The shot served to break up the fight and scatter the herd, +however, and we returned to the cottonwoods with the hind-quarter of a +fat calf. + +Hungry as we were, we could hardly bolt raw meat, so, taking it for +granted that no one was likely to ride up on us, we built a fire in the +grove, being careful to feed it with dry twigs that would make little +smoke. Over this we toasted bits of meat on the end of a splinter, and +presently our hunger was appeased. Then we blotted out the fire, and, +stretching ourselves on the ground, had recourse to the solace of +tobacco. + +The longer we laid there the more curious did I become as to what line +of action MacRae purposed to follow. He lay on his back, silent, staring +straight up at the bit of sky that showed through the branches above, +and I'd just reached the point of asking, when he sat up and forestalled +my questions. + +"This is going to be risky business, Sarge," he began. "But so far as I +can see, there is only one way that we can hope to get the thing +straightened out. If we can get hold of Hicks or Bevans, any one of the +four, in fact, I think we can _make_ him tell us all we need to know. +It's the only chance for you and Lyn to get your money back, and for me +to square myself." + +"I shouldn't think," I put in resentfully, "that you'd want to square +yourself, after the dirty way you've been treated. I'd as soon take to +herding sheep, or washing dirty clothes like a Chinaman, as be a member +of the Mounted Police if what I've seen in the last ten days is a fair +sample of what a man can expect." + +"Fiddlesticks!" Mac impatiently exclaimed. "You don't know what you're +talking about. I tell you a man in the Police, if he has any head at +all, can control his own destiny. You'll be a heap more sane when you +get that old, wild-west notion, that every man should be a law unto +himself, out of your head. I'll venture to say that the Northwest will +be a safer and more law-abiding place five years from now than south of +the line will be in twenty--and the men in red coats will make it so. +Why, I wouldn't miss helping tame this country for half a dozen such +scrapes as I'm in now. This is merely the result of a rotten spot in the +personnel, a rotten spot that will soon be cut out if things come about +logically; it isn't the fault of the system. There never was any great +movement in developing a new country that didn't have a quota of damned +rascals to eliminate from within itself. If you didn't have such a +perverted idea of independence, you'd see that I'm in no danger of +losing either my identity or my self-respect simply because I've become +a unit in a body of six hundred fighting-men. I don't intend to remain +in the insignificant-unit class." + +"Your intentions," I interrupted, "will cut a mighty small figure if +your friend Lessard gets hold of you in the next day or two." + +"That's the melancholy truth," he returned seriously. "I imagine we'd +get a pretty rough deal; in fact, I wouldn't be surprised if that troop +has received orders, by now, to shoot first and arrest afterward. Still, +I'm willing to gamble that if we rode into Fort Walsh and gave ourselves +up, it would only be a matter of a few weeks in the guardhouse for us +before the thing was cleared up." + +"Maybe," I responded skeptically. "If that's your belief, why don't you +act accordingly?" + +"Because, confound it, that's just where they want to get us," he +declared. "Once we were safely penned, they'll drift, and neither you +nor Lyn Rowan nor the government would ever lay eyes on that bundle of +money again. I have a theory--but what's vastly more important, I think +those fellows can hardly get out of the country with their plunder +without crossing trails with us. It was smooth business to set the dogs +on us. I don't quite _sabe_--well, I do, too. You can probably realize +just how headquarters would take the sort of yarn we'd spin if we dashed +in and told them the truth. But I think we're smart enough to upset +these fellows' calculations. Lord! wouldn't it be a stroke of business +if we could trap that collection of buccaneers? Frankly, that would be +the biggest thing that ever came my way." + +"It would be equally a stroke of business if they happen to trap us," I +reminded. + +"They won't," he asserted confidently. "We can't afford to let them. +We've inflicted a compound fracture on established law, and until we can +make the outcome justify our actions, we're compelled, in self-defense, +to avoid being caught. It may be a dubious undertaking, but as I see it +the only thing for us is to hang on the flank of these man-hunters till +we can lay hold of one of that red-handed quartette. According to Burky, +two of them, at least, are in that troop. Probably the others are. And +knowing that bunch as well as I do, I don't think they'll lift the +plunder and quit the country till they can go together. Even if we can't +get hold of one of them, we can keep track of their movements, and if +they _do_ lift their _cache_ and pull out, why, that would be as good as +we want. I wouldn't ask anything better than to get a fair chance at +that bunch with the stolen money on them." + +I'll admit that, soberly considered, MacRae's plan did look exceeding +risky. No one could appreciate better than ourselves the unpleasant +possibilities that stared us in the face. But things had narrowed to a +point where only two courses were open to us--one, to throw up our hands +and quit the jurisdiction of the Mounted Police, which involved +desertion on MacRae's part, and on mine a chicken-hearted abandonment of +La Pere's trust in me (for, rightly or wrongly, I was given over to the +feeling that on me alone rested the responsibility for the loss or +recovery of La Pere's money); the other, to take any measure, no matter +how desperate, that would unravel the tangle. All things considered, the +latter was the logical choice. And the plan Mac had put forth seemed as +feasible as any. + +"We'll have to proceed on the faro-bank formula that all bets go as they +lay," I said lightly. "There's no use anticipating things disagreeable +or otherwise; we'll simply have to take them as they come." + +By this time dusk was upon us. We picketed the horses in the open bottom +where grass was more plentiful than in the brush, and settled ourselves +to sleep. Fortunately, the aftermath of that blistering day was a fairly +warm night. By spreading over us the heavy woolen blankets the Mounted +Police use under their saddles, we slept in comfort. Long before dawn, +however, we arose, built a fire, and breakfasted on buffalo veal, at the +same time broiling a good supply and stowing it in our pockets to serve +the rest of the day. Then, with darkness still obscuring our movements, +we saddled and rode over the ridge and down into Lost River, crossing +that ancient waterway before the first glimmer of light in the east. + +Day found us dismounted in the head of a coulee where we could spy on +the Police camp from a distance of three miles, more or less. About +sunrise the troop left camp in a body, later spreading fanwise over the +prairies. Once a party trotted by within a half-mile of us, but no one +of the four men we wanted to see was in the squad. + +Until after the noon hour we laid _perdu_ in the hollow, no wiser for +our watching. Then I saw a number of riders debouch from the camp, and +at once trained the glasses on them. At first I couldn't distinguish any +particular face among so many shifting forms, but presently they split +in two bodies, and these again subdivided; and in the bunch coming +toward us I recognized three men, Lessard, unmistakable in his black +uniform, Hicks, and Bevans. I turned the glasses over to MacRae then. + +"I thought probably some more of our friends would show up," he said, +after a quick survey. "With those two in sight the chances are that all +four are with the troop. The other fellows in that squad are just plain +buck Policemen. Confound them, I wish----Aha, by Jupiter! the big chief +is turning off those two." + +As Mac spoke I saw the two men I had spotted as Hicks and Bevans swing +away from the rest and angle toward Lost River. From our vantage point +we watched them come abreast and pass us at a distance well within a +mile. The others turned south, directly away from us. + +"Now," Mac coolly declared, "here's where we get the chance we want, if +we're lucky. We'll keep parallel with these gentlemen, and if they get +out of touch with the rest we'll make a try at nailing them. Be careful, +though, how you show yourself; there's at least fifty of these +peacemakers within four or five miles, and a shot or a yell will bring +them on a high run." + +Hicks and Bevans, whatever their destination, were in no haste. They +rode at a walk most of the time, and we were forced to keep the same +pace. It was slow work poking along those coulee-bottoms, now and then +making a risky sneak to ground, whence we could get a clear view of the +game we were stalking so assiduously. + +Progressing in this manner we finally reached the breaks that ran down +to Lost River, not a great distance from where MacRae and I had kicked +over the traces of legally constituted authority the previous day. Here +we had to dodge over a stretch of ground barren of concealment, and to +do so waited till such time as Hicks and Bevans were themselves in the +depths of a coulee. + +When next we caught sight of our men--well, to be exact, we saw only +one, and that was Bevans. He had stopped his horse on top of a knoll not +more than four hundred yards to the north of us, and was standing up in +his stirrups staring over the ears of his horse at a point down the +slope. Hicks had disappeared. Nor did we see aught of him during the +next few minutes that we spent glaring at Bevans and the surrounding +territory. + +"I wonder if that square-jawed devil has got a glimpse of us and is +trying a lone-handed stalk himself?" I hazarded. + +MacRae shook his head. "Not likely," he said. "If it was Paul Gregory, +now, that's the very thing he'd do. I don't quite _sabe_ this +performance." + +We watched for sign of Hicks, but without result. Then Bevans got under +way and moved along at the same poky gait as before. When he had gone +some distance we took to the hollow. Twenty minutes jogging brought us +into a stretch of rough country, a series of knobs and ridges cut by +innumerable coulees. Here it became necessary to locate Mr. Bevans +again. Once more he was revealed on top of an elevation, studying the +surrounding landscape, and he was still alone. + +"Where the mischief can Hicks have got to?" Mac growled. "We really +ought to smell him out before we do anything." + +"Look, now," I said. "Don't you suppose Bevans is waiting for him?" + +Bevans had dismounted and stretched himself on the ground in the shade +of his horse. But he was not napping; on the contrary, he was very much +on the alert, for his head turned slowly from side to side, quiescent as +he seemed; there would be little movement pass unobserved within range +of that pair of eyes. + +"Maybe he is," MacRae replied. "Anyhow, I think we'd better wait a while +ourselves." + +For nearly an hour Bevans kept his position. Hicks, if he were in the +vicinity, kept closely under cover. Bevans had all the best of the +situation, so far as being able to keep a lookout was a factor; the +opposite bank of the coulee we were in towered high above us, and shut +off our view in that direction. And we didn't dare risk showing +ourselves on high ground. Finally, after what seemed an interminable +period of waiting, Mac's patience frazzled out and he declared for +action. + +"We're doing no good here," he said. "Hicks or no Hicks, I'm going to +have a try at making connections with his nibs on that hill. I think the +coulee right under his perch is an arm of the one we're in; runs in +somewhere below. Maybe we can get to him that way. It's worth trying." + +As MacRae had surmised, our canyon forked below. We turned the point +after making sure that Bevans couldn't see us unless he moved. But the +uncertain beggar had moved, and moved to some purpose we quickly +learned; for when we next laid eyes on him he was out on the extreme +point of the little bench, opposite the mouth of the coulee we had +ascended, whirling his horse about in cramped circles. And in answer to +his signaling a full score of red-jacketed riders were galloping down +the ridges, a human comb that bade fair to rake us from our concealment +in a scant number of minutes. + +"Looks bad for you and me, old boy," MacRae grinned. "I see now what +brother Hicks has been up to. But they haven't got us yet. Whatever +happens, Sarge, don't get excited and go to shooting. We can't win out +that way, against this combination. If we can't dodge and outrun them +we'll have to take our medicine. Down the coulee is our only chance. +There's only Bevans to stop us; and it won't really matter if we do put +his light out--be one thief less at the finish." + +Bevans, however, made no demonstration. We just got a mere glimpse of +him, and I imagine he was nowise anxious to try heading us off, which he +could not do without coming into the open. Whipping around the crooked +bends at top speed, he had little chance to pot us, and I think he had +an idea that we would cheerfully pot him if he got in the way. + +We mystified them somewhat, and gained considerable ground, by that +sudden dash, but it wasn't long before they were in full cry like a pack +of hounds, and the carbines began to pop in a futile sort of way. Mac +had not been far astray when he hazarded the guess that the troop would +have orders to shoot on sight, for they began to peck at us the moment +we came in view. We had just enough of a start, though, and our mounts +were just good enough and fresh enough to gradually draw away from them. +And as we were then out of the network of protecting coulees and +pattering over the comparative level of Lost River bottoms, I was very +glad that we were beyond carbine-range and that it was near sundown. + +"Barring accidents, they can't get up on us now," Mac declared. "So I +think it'll be wise to keep south along the open bottoms. If they see us +splitting the breeze down Lost River, they won't look for us to bob up +from the opposite quarter to-morrow. When it gets dark and we're far +enough ahead, we can swing into the hills. That'll fool them plenty for +to-night. They'll probably try tracking us to-morrow, but I reckon +they'll find that a tough job." + +They kept persistently after us, and we were more or less on the anxious +seat, till it did get dark. Then we turned sharp to the left and gained +high ground once more, congratulating ourselves on so easily getting out +of a ticklish place. If we hadn't moved up on Bevans they might have +surrounded us before we got wind of them. But we'd beaten them fairly, +and so we looked back through the dark and laughed; though I'm sure we +had no particular cause for merriment. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +PIEGAN TAKES A HAND. + + +I don't believe a detailed account of how we spent that night would be +classed as wildly interesting; if memory serves me right, it was a +bleak, hungry, comfortless passage of time, and I am willing to let it +go at that. We managed to secure a buffalo steak for breakfast. No man +needed to starve in that country during those days of plentiful game; +but we were handicapped by the necessity of doing our hunting in a very +surreptitious manner. However, we didn't starve; the worst we +experienced was an occasional period of acute hunger, when we didn't +dare fire a shot for fear of revealing our whereabouts. + +Nor can I see, now, where we accomplished anything beyond killing time +the following day. To be sure, we scouted faithfully, and once or twice +came perilously near being caught by squads of Mounted Police appearing +from unexpected quarters. Our scouting was so much wasted energy. We got +nowhere near the Police camp; we failed to get a glimpse of any of our +men; and so, for all we knew to the contrary, they might have loaded the +plunder and decamped for other regions. When night again spread its +concealing folds about us, we had only one tangible fact as a reward for +our exertions--Lessard had returned to Fort Walsh--presumably. Early +that morning, escorted by four troopers, he had crossed Lost River and +disappeared in the direction of the post. Of his identity the +field-glasses assured us. But that was the sum total of our acquired +knowledge, and it brought us no nearer the breaking up of the +Goodell-Gregory combination or the recovery of the loot. + +So for a third night we were compelled to seek sanctuary in the silent +canyons. And the third day brought us no better luck. At evening we were +constrained to admit that we were simply butting our heads against a +wall--with an ever-present possibility of the wall toppling over and +crushing us flat. + +Altogether, we spent five consecutive days hovering around that +collection of law-enforcers, in imminent risk of capture. Each night in +the open was more cheerless than the preceding one, and each day brought +the same sense of futile effort at its close. Twice during that time the +Police camp moved, and we had to be wary, for they scoured the +surrounding territory with painstaking thoroughness. But we felt that +there was yet a chance for us to turn the tables, for Goodell was still +with the troop, and also Gregory; we saw them both the morning of the +fifth day. + +"It beats me why they're pecking around over the same ground so much," +Mac observed. "I suppose they're looking for us, but I'm pretty sure +they haven't had a glimpse of us for three days, and so I don't see why +they should think we're still hanging around. Logically, if we'd got +that bunch of money, we'd be getting out of the country. Lord, I do wish +those four would show their hand--make a move of some kind." + +"So do I," I seconded. "We're not doing much good that I can see. And I +think I could play the game with a heap more enthusiasm if I had some +coffee and white bread under my belt once or twice a day. We'll go +hungry, and likewise get a devilish good soaking to-night, or I'm badly +mistaken." + +We had checked our horses on the summit of the divide that ran down to +Lost River on one side and on the other sloped away to the southeast. +The wind that was merely a breath at sundown had gathered strength to +itself and now swept across the hill-tops with a resonant roar, piling +layer on layer of murky low-flying clouds into a dense mass overhead. +Night, black as the bottomless pit, walled us in. A fifty-mile breeze +lashed us spitefully, tugging at our shirt-sleeves and drowning our +voices, while we halted on that pinnacle. By the dank breath of the +wind, the ominous overcasting of the sky, all the little signs that a +prairie-wise man learns to read, we knew that a storm was close at hand. +Shelter there was none, nor food, and we stood in need of both. + +"You're right," MacRae admitted. "But how are we going to help it? +We'll just have to grin and tough it out." + +"I'll tell you how we'll help it," I proposed recklessly, shouting to +make myself heard above the noisy wind. "We can go down and tackle that +bull-train we saw pulling along the foot of the ridge. They'll know +we're on the dodge, but that won't make any difference to them. I know +nearly every bull-whacker that freights out of Benton, and they're a +pretty white bunch. If it's Baker's outfit, especially, we'll be welcome +as flowers in May. You said they'd likely camp at that spring--Ten Mile, +isn't it? What d'ye think? Shall we go down and take a chance? I sure +don't like the look of things up here. It's going to be a rip-snorter of +a night, once it cuts loose." + +"I'm ready to go against nearly anything, right now," MacRae frankly +owned. "If you think it's worth trying, why, it's a go with me." + +"Let's drift, then," I declared; and straightway we turned our horses +broadside to the wind and tore away for Ten Mile Spring and the +creature comforts I knew were to be had at the white-sheeted wagons we +saw crawling slowly along the Stony Crossing trail late that afternoon. + +As Mac had calculated, the freight-train was camped at the Spring; and +it was a mighty good thing for us that MacRae knew that country so well +or we would never have found them, short of riding our horses to a +standstill. Long before we got there the deep-throated thunder was +growling over us, and the clouds spat occasional flurries of rain. + +We made the freight camp, however, just as the storm cut loose in deadly +earnest. Luckily for me, it was Baker's outfit. I took a long chance, +and stalked boldly in. And here I was treated to a surprise, one that +afforded both MacRae and me considerable food for thought; Horner, the +wagon-boss, a man I knew well, frankly declared that no one at Fort +Walsh had heard that we were accused of robbery and murder. For that +matter, he said, he didn't care a tinker's dam if we were; he had grub +and bedding and we were welcome to both. + +So with this assurance of good-will we picketed our horses close by the +circle of wagons--where we could get to them quickly should any of +Lessard's troop happen into the camp--and prepared to devour the supper +Horner's good-natured cook bestirred himself to make ready. As we filled +our plates and squatted under the canvas that sheltered the cook's +Dutch-oven layout, a man under the hind end of the chuck-wagon propped +himself on elbow and shouted greeting to us. In the semi-dark I couldn't +see his face, but I recognized the voice. It was our friend of the +whisky-keg episode, Piegan Smith. + +"Hello, thar, fellers!" he bellowed (Piegan always spoke to a man as if +he were a hundred yards away). "Say, Flood, yuh ain't been t' Benton an' +back already, have yuh?" + +"Faith, no," I owned, between mouthfuls, "and it's hard telling when I +will get there. How come you to be pacing along this trail, Piegan? Gone +to freighting in your old age?" + +"Not what yuh could notice, I ain't," he snorted. "Catch _me_ whackin' +bulls for a livin'! Naw, I sold my outfit to a goggle-eyed pilgrim that +has an idea buffalo hides is prime all summer. So I'm headed for Benton +to see if I kain't stir up a little excitement now an' then, to pass +away the time till the fall buffalo-run begins." + +"If you're looking for excitement, Piegan," MacRae put in dryly, "you'd +better come along with us. We'll introduce you to more different brands +of it in the next few days than Benton could furnish in six months." + +"Maybe," Piegan laughed. "But not the brand I'm a-thirstin' for." + +Mac was on the point of replying when there came a most unexpected +interruption. I looked up at sound of a startled exclamation, and beheld +the round African physog of Lyn Rowan's colored mammy. But she had no +eyes for me; she stood like a black statue just within the firelight, a +tin bucket in one hand, staring over my head at MacRae. + +"Lawd a-me!" she gulped out. "Ef Ah ain't sho'ly laid mah ol' eyes on +Marse Go'don. Is dat sho' 'nuf yo', wid yo' red coat an' all?" + +"It sure is, Mammy," Mac answered. "How does it happen you're traveling +this way? I thought you were at Fort Walsh. Is Miss Lyn along?" + +"She suttinly am," Mammy Thomas emphatically asserted. "Yo' doan catch +dis chile a-mosyin' obeh dese yeah plains by huh lonesome. Since dey +done brought Miss Lyn's paw in an' planted him, she say dey ain't no use +foh huh to stay in dis yeah redcoat country no longer; so we all packed +up an' sta'ted back foh de lan' ob de free." + +MacRae, I am sure, was no more than half through his meal. But he +swallowed the coffee in his cup, and tossed his eating-implements into +the cook's wash-pan. + +"I'll go with you, Mammy," he told her. "I want to see Miss Lyn myself." + +"Jes' a minute, Marse Go'don," she said. "Ah's got to git some wa'm +watah f'om dis yeah Mr. Cook." + +The cook signaled her to help herself from the kettle that bubbled over +the fire, and she filled her bucket and disappeared, chattering volubly, +MacRae at her heels. + +I finished my supper more deliberately. There was no occasion for me to +gobble my food and rush off to talk with Lyn Rowan. MacRae, I suspected, +would be inclined to monopolize her for the rest of the evening. So I +ate leisurely, and when done crawled under the wagon beside Piegan Smith +and gave myself up to cigarettes and meditation, while over his pipe +Piegan expressed a most unflattering opinion of the weather. + +It was a dirty night, beyond question; one that gave color to Piegan's +prophesy that Milk River would be out of its banks if the storm held +till morning, and that Baker's freight-train would be stalled by mud and +high water for three or four days. I was duly thankful for the shelter +we had found. A tarpaulin stretched from wheel to wheel of the wagon +shut out the driving rain that fled in sheets before the whooping wind. +The lightning-play was hidden behind the drifting cloud-bank, for no +glint of it penetrated the gloom; but the cavernous thunder-bellow +roared intermittently, and a fury of rain drove slantwise against sodden +earth and creaking wagon-tops. + +If the next two hours were as slow in passing, to MacRae and Lyn, as +they seemed to me, the two of them had time to dissect and discuss the +hopes and fears and errors of their whole existence, and formulate a new +philosophy of life. Piegan broke a long silence to remark sagely that if +Mac was putting in all this time talking to that "yaller-headed fairy," +he was a plumb good stayer. + +"They're old friends," I told him. "Mac knew her long ago; and all her +people." + +"Well, he's in darned agreeable company," Piegan observed. "She's a +mighty fine little woman, far's I've seen. I dunno's I'd know when t' +jar loose m'self, if I knowed her an' she didn't object t' me hangin' +around. But seein' we ain't in on the reception, we might as well get +under the covers, eh? I reckon most everybody in camp's turned in." + +Piegan had a bulky roll of bedding under the wagon. Spread to its full +width, it was ample for three ordinary men. We had just got out of our +outside garments and were snuggling down between the blankets when Mac +came slopping through the puddles that were now gathering in every +depression. He crawled under the wagon, shed some of his clothing, and +got into bed with us. But he didn't lie down until he had rolled a +cigarette, and then instead of going to sleep he began talking to +Piegan, asking what seemed to me a lot of rather trifling questions. I +was nearly worn out, and their conversation was nowise interesting to +me, so listening to the monotonous drone of their voices and the steady +beat of falling rain, I went to sleep. + +Before a great while I wakened; to speak truthfully, the ungentle voice +of Piegan Smith brought me out of dreamland with a guilty start. MacRae +was still sitting up in bed, and from that part of his speech which +filtered into my ears I gathered that he was recounting to Piegan the +tale of our adventures during the past week. I thought that odd, for Mac +was a close-mouthed beggar as a general thing; but there was no valid +reason why he should not proclaim the story from the hill-tops if he +chose, so I rolled over and pulled the blankets above my head--to +protect my ear-drums if Piegan's astonishment should again find verbal +expression. + +The cook's battle-cry of "Grub _pi-i-ile_" wakened me next. A thin line +of yellowish-red in the east betokened the birth of another day, a day +born in elemental turmoil, for the fierce wind was no whit abated, nor +the sullen, driving rain. + +"I've enlisted a recruit," MacRae told me in an undertone, as we ate +breakfast. "It struck me that if we had somebody along that we could +trust to ride into that Police camp with his mouth shut and his ears and +eyes open, we might find out something that would show us how the land +lay; even if he accomplished nothing else, he could learn if those +fellows are still with the troop." + +"That was why you were making that talk to Piegan last night, was it?" I +said. "Well, from what little I've seen and heard of him, he'd be a +whole team if he's willing to throw in with us and take a chance." Which +was perfectly true. Old Piegan had the reputation, on both sides of the +line, of loving to jump into a one-sided fight for the pure joy of +evening up the odds. He was a boisterous, rough-spoken mortal, but his +heart was big, and set in the right place. And, though I didn't know it +then, he had a grouch against Hicks, who had once upon a time run him +into Fort Walsh in irons on an unjustified suspicion of whisky-running. +That was really what started Piegan in the smuggling business--a desire +to play even, after getting what he called a "damn rough deal." + +"He's willing enough," Mac assured me. "Aside from the fact that most +any white man would go out of his way to help a girl like Lyn Rowan, +there's the certainty that the Canadian government will be pretty +generous to anybody who helps round up that crooked bunch and restore +the stolen money. Piegan snorted when I told him we were on the +dodge--that they were trying to nail us for holding up the paymaster. +That's the rottenest part of the whole thing. I think--but then we've +got to do more than think to get ourselves out of this jackpot." + +He stopped abruptly, and went on with his breakfast. By the time we were +done eating, the gray light of a bedraggled morning revealed tiny lakes +in every hollow, and each coulee and washout was a miniature torrent of +muddy water--with a promise of more to come in the murky cloud-drift +that overcast the sky. Horner sent out two men to relieve the +night-herders, remarked philosophically "More rain, more rest," and +retired to the shelter of the cook's canvas. His drivers sought cover in +and under the wagons, where they had spent the night. But though mud and +swollen streams might hold back the cumbrous freight outfit, it did not +follow that heavy going would delay the flitting of the thieves, if they +planned such a move; nor would it prevent the Mounted Police from +descending on the Baker outfit if they thought we had taken refuge +there. So we held council of war with Piegan, after which we saddled up +and made ready to tackle the soaked prairies. + +While we were packing grub and bedding on Piegan's extra horse, Lyn +joined us, wrapped from head to heel in a yellow slicker. And by the way +Mac greeted her I knew that they had bridged that gap of five years to +their mutual satisfaction; that she was loath to see him set out on a +hazardous mission she presently made plain. + +"Let it go, Gordon," she begged. "There's been too much blood shed over +that wretched gold already. Let them have it. I know something dreadful +will happen if you follow it up." + +MacRae smiled and shook his head stubbornly. "I'm too deep in, little +woman, to quit now," he told her patiently. "If it was only a matter of +your money, we could get along without it. But Sarge stands to lose a +lot, if we give up at this stage of the game. And besides, I'd always be +more or less on the dodge if this thing isn't cleared up. I've got to +see it through. You wouldn't have me sneak out of this country like a +whipped pup, would you? There's too big an account to settle with those +fellows, Lyn; it's up to us, if we're men. I can't draw back now, till +it's settled for good and all, one way or the other." + +[Illustration: "THERE'S BEEN TOO MUCH BLOOD SHED OVER THAT WRETCHED GOLD +ALREADY. LET THEM HAVE IT." + +_Page 212._] + +"Oh, I know how you feel about it," she sighed. "But even if it comes +out all right, you're still tied here. You know they won't let you go." + +"Don't you worry about that," he comforted. "I'll cross that bridge fast +enough when I come to it. You go on to Benton, like a good girl. I feel +it in my bones that we're going to have better luck from now on. And if +we do, you'll see us ride down the Benton hill one of these fine +mornings. Anyway, I'll send you word by Piegan before long." + +Piegan was already mounted, watching us whimsically from under the +dripping brim of his hat. I shook hands with Lyn, and swung into my +saddle. And when Mac had kissed her, we crowded through a gap in the +circle of wagons, waved a last good-by, and rode away in the steadily +falling rain. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +IN THE CAMP OF THE ENEMY. + + +From then until near noon we worked our passage if ever men did. On the +high benches it was not so bad for the springy, porous turf soaked up +the excessive moisture and held its firmness tolerably well. But every +bank of any steepness meant a helter-skelter slide to its foot, with +either a bog-hole or swimming water when we got there, and getting up +the opposite hill was like climbing a greased pole--except that there +was no purse at the top to reward our perseverance. Between the +succeeding tablelands lay gumbo flats where the saturated clay hung to +the feet of our horses like so much glue, or opened under hoof-pressure +and swallowed them to the knees. So that our going was slow and +wearisome. + +About mid-day the storm gradually changed from unceasing downpour to +squally outbursts, followed by banks of impenetrable fog that would +shut down on us solidly for a few minutes, then vanish like the good +intentions of yesterday; the wind switched a few points and settled to a +steady gale which lashed the spent clouds into hurrying ships of the +air, scudding full-sail before the droning breeze. Before long little +patches of blue began to peep warily through narrow spaces above. The +wind-blown rain-makers lost their leaden hue and became a soft +pearl-gray, all fleecy white around the edges. Then bars of warm +sunshine poured through the widening rifts and the whole rain-washed +land lay around us like a great checker-board whereon black +cloud-shadows chased each other madly over prairies yellow with the hot +August sun and gray-green in the hollows where the grass took on a new +lease of life. + +That night we camped west of Lost River, lying prudently in a +brush-grown coulee, for we were within sight of the Police camp--by +grace of the field-glasses. At sundown the ground had dried to such a +degree that a horse could lift foot without raising with it an abnormal +portion of the Northwest. The wind veered still farther to the south, +blowing strong and warm, sucking greedily the surplus moisture from the +saturated earth. So we resolved ourselves into a committee of ways and +means and decided that since the footing promised to be normal in the +morning the troop would likely scatter out, might even move camp, and +therefore it behooved us to get in touch with them at once; accordingly +Piegan rode away to spend the night in the Police tents, with a tale of +horses strayed from Baker's outfit to account for his wandering. From +our nook in the ridge he could easily make it by riding a little after +dark. + +"Goodell and Gregory and Hicks you know," said MacRae. "Bevans is a +second edition of Hicks, only not so tall by two or three inches--a +square-shouldered, good-looking brute, with light hair and steel-gray +eyes and a short brown mustache. He has an ugly scar--a +knife-cut--across the back of one hand; you can't mistake him if you get +sight of him. Stick around the camp in the morning if you can manage it, +till they start, and notice which way all those fellows go. The sooner +we get our hands on one or more of them the better we'll be able to get +at the bottom of this; I reckon we could find a way to make him talk. Of +course, if anything out of the ordinary comes up you'll have to use your +own judgment; you know just as much as we do, now. And we'll wait here +for you unless they jump us up. In that case we'll try and round up +somewhere between here and Ten Mile." + +"Right yuh are, old-timer," Piegan responded. "I'll do the best I can. +Yuh want t' keep your eye glued t' that peep-glass in the mornin', and +not overlook no motions. Yuh kain't tell what might come up. So-long!" +And away he went. + +When he was gone from sight we built a tiny fire in the scrub--for it +was twilight, at which time keen eyes are needed to detect either smoke +or fire, except at close range--and cooked our supper. That done, we +smothered what few embers remained and laid us down to sleep. That +wasn't much of a success, however. We had got into action again, with +more of a chance to bring about certain desired results, and inevitably +we laid awake reckoning up the chances for and against a happy +conclusion to our little expedition. + +"It's a wonder," I said, as the thought occurred to me, "that Lyn quit +Walsh so soon. Why didn't she stay a while longer and see if these +famous preservers of the peace wouldn't manage to gather in the men who +killed her father? Why, hang it! she didn't even wait to see if you +found that stuff at the Stone--and Lessard must have told her that +somebody had gone to look for it." + +Mac snapped out an oath in the dark. "Lessard simply lost his head," he +growled. "Damn him! He told her that he had sent us to look for it, and +that we had taken advantage of the opportunity to rob the paymaster. Oh, +he painted us good and black, I tell you. Then he had the nerve to ask +her to marry him. And he was so infernally insistent about it, that she +was forced to pull up and get away from the post in self-defense. That's +why she left so suddenly." + +Well, I couldn't find it in my heart to blame Lessard for that last, so +long as he acted the gentleman about it. In fact, it was to be expected +of almost any man who happened to be thrown in contact with Lyn Rowan +for any length of time. I can't honestly lay claim to being absolutely +immune myself; only my attack had come years earlier, and had not been +virulent enough to make me indulge in any false hopes. It's no crime for +an unattached man to care for a woman; but naturally, MacRae would be +prejudiced against any one who laid siege to a castle he had marked for +his own. I had disliked that big, autocratic major, too, from our first +meeting, but it was pure instinctive antipathy on my part, sharpened, +perhaps, by his outrageous treatment of MacRae. + +We dropped the subject forthwith. Lessard's relation to the problem was +a subject we had so far shied around. It was beside the point to indulge +in footless theory. We knew beyond a doubt who were the active agents in +every blow that had been struck, and the first move in the tangle we +sought to unravel was to lay hands on them, violently if necessary, and +through them recover the stolen money. Only by having that in our +possession--so MacRae argued--could we hope to gain credible hearing, +and when that was accomplished whatever part Lessard had played would +develop of itself. + +By and by, my brain wearied with fruitless speculation, I began to doze, +and from then till daylight I slept in five-minute snatches. + +Dawn brought an access of caution, and we forbore building a fire. Our +horses, which we had picketed in the open overnight, we saddled and tied +out of sight in the brush. Then we ate a cold breakfast and betook +ourselves to the nearest hill-top, where, screened by a huddle of rocks, +we could watch for the coming of Piegan Smith; and, incidentally, keep +an eye on the redcoat camp, though the distance was too great to observe +their movements with any degree of certainty. The most important thing +was to avoid letting a bunch of them ride up on us unheralded. + +"They're not setting the earth afire looking for anybody," Mac declared, +when the sun was well started on its ante-meridian journey and there +was still no sign of riders leaving the cluster of tents. "Ah, there +they go." + +A squad of mounted men in close formation, so that their scarlet jackets +stood out against the dun prairie like a flame in the dark, rode away +from the camp, halted on the first hill an instant, then scattered +north, south, and west. After that there was no visible stir around the +white-sheeted commissary. + +"They're not apt to disturb us if they keep going the opposite +direction," Mac reflected, his eyes conning them through the glasses. +"And neither do they appear to be going to move camp. Therefore, we'll +be likely to see Piegan before long." + +But it was some time ere we laid eyes on that gentleman. We didn't see +him leaving the camp--which occasioned us no uneasiness, because a lone +rider could very well get away from there unseen by us, especially if he +was circumspect in his choice of routes, as Piegan would probably be. +Only when two hours had dragged by, and then two more, did we begin to +get anxious. I was lying on my back, staring up at the sky, all sorts +of possible misfortune looming large on my mental horizon, when MacRae, +sweeping the hills with the glasses, grunted satisfaction, and I turned +my head in time to see Piegan appear momentarily on high ground a mile +to the south of us. + +"What's he doing off there?" I wondered. "Do you suppose somebody's +following him, that he thinks it necessary to ride clear around us?" + +"Hardly; but you can gamble that he isn't riding for his health," Mac +responded. "Anyway, you'll soon know; he's turning." + +Piegan swung into the coulee at a fast lope, and we stole carefully down +to meet him. In the brush that concealed our horses Piegan dismounted, +and, seating himself tailor-fashion on the ground, began to fill his +pipe. + +"First thing," said he, "we're a little behind the times. Your birds has +took wing and flew the coop." + +"Took wing--how? And when?" we demanded. + +"You'll _sabe_ better, I reckon, if I tell yuh just how I made out," +Piegan answered, after a pause to light his pipe. "When I got there last +night they was most all asleep. But this mornin' I got a chance to size +up the whole bunch, and nary one uh them jaspers I wanted t' see was in +sight. So whilst we was eatin' breakfast I begins t' quiz, an', one way +an' another, lets on I wanted t' see that Injun scout. One feller up an' +tells me he guess I'll find the breed at Fort Walsh, most likely. After +a while I hears more talk, an' by askin' a few innocent questions I gets +next t' some more. Puttin' this an' that together, this here's the way +she stacks up: Lessard, as you fellers took notice, went in t' Walsh, +takin' several men with him, Gregory bein' among the lot. He leaves +orders that these fellers behind are t' comb the country till he calls +'em off. Yesterday mornin', in the thick uh the storm, a buck trooper +arrives from Walsh, bearin' instructions for Goodell, Hicks an' another +feller, which I reckon is Bevans. So when she clears up a little along +towards noon, these three takes a packadero layout an' starts, +presumable for Medicine Lodge. An' that's all I found out from the +Policemen." + +"Scattered them around the country, eh?" Mac commented. "Damn it, we're +just as far behind as ever." + +"Hold your hosses a minute," Piegan grinned knowingly. "I said that was +all I found out from the red jackets--but I did a little prognosticatin' +on my own hook. I figured that if them fellers hit the trail yesterday +afternoon as soon as the storm let up, they'd make one hell of a good +plain track in this sloppy goin' an' I was curious t' see if they lit +straight for the Lodge. So when the bunch got out quite a ways, I quits +the camp an' swings round in a wide circle--an' sure enough they'd left +their mark. Three riders an' two pack-hosses. Easy trackin'? Well, I +should say! They'd cut a trail in them doby flats like a bunch uh +gallopin' buffalo. Say, where _is_ Medicine Lodge?" + +"Oh, break away, Piegan," Mac impatiently exclaimed. "What are you +trying to get at? You know where the Lodge is as well as I do." + +"Well, I always thought I knowed where 'twas," Piegan retorted +spiritedly, a wicked twinkle in his shrewd old eyes. "But it must 'a' +changed location lately, for them fellers rode north a ways, an' then +kept swingin' round till they was headin' due southeast. I follered +their trail t' where yuh seen me turn this way, if yuh was watchin'. +Poor devils"--Piegan grinned covertly while voicing this mock +sympathy--"they must 'a' got lost, I reckon. It really ain't safe for +such pilgrims t' be cavortin' over the prairies with all that boodle in +their jeans. I reckon we'll just naturally have t' pike along after 'em +an' take care of it ourselves. They ain't got such a rip-roarin' start +of us--an' I'm the boy can foller that track from hell t' breakfast an' +back again. So let's eat a bite, an' then straddle our _caballos_ for +some tall ridin'." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +A MASTER-STROKE OF VILLAINY. + + +Piegan shortly proved that he made no vain boast when he asserted his +ability to follow their track. A lifetime on the plains, and a natural +fitness for the life, had made him own brother to the Indian in the +matter of nosing out dim trails. The crushing of a tuft of grass, a +broken twig, all the half-hidden signs that the feet of horses and men +leave behind, held a message for him; nothing, however slight, escaped +his eagle eye. And he did it subconsciously, without perceptible effort. +The surpassing skill of his tracking did not strike me forcibly at +first, for I can read an open trail as well as the average cowman, and +the mark of their passing lay plain before us; the veriest pilgrim, new +come from graded roads and fenced pastures, could have counted the +number of their steps--each hoof had stamped its impression in the soft +loam as clearly as a steel die-cut in soaked leather. But that was where +they had ridden while the land was still plastic from the rain. Farther, +wind and sun had dried the ridge-turf to its normal firmness and baked +the dobe flats till in places they were of their old flinty hardness. +Yet Piegan crossed at a lope places where neither MacRae nor I could +glimpse a sign--and when we would come again to soft ground the trail of +the three would rise up to confront us, and bid us marvel at the +keenness of his vision. He had a gift that we lacked. + +We followed in the wake of Piegan Smith with what speed the +coulee-gashed prairie permitted, and about three o'clock halted for half +an hour to let our horses graze; we had been riding steadily over four +hours, and it behooved us to have some thought for our mounts. Within +ten minutes of starting again we dipped into a wide-bottomed coulee and +came on the place where the three had made their first night-camp--a +patch of dead ashes, a few half-burned sticks, and the close-cropped +grass-plots where each horse had circled a picket-pin. + +Beyond these obvious signs, there was nothing to see. Nothing, at least, +that I could see except faint tracks leading away from the spot. These +we had followed but a short distance when Piegan, who was scrutinizing +the ground with more care than he had before shown, pulled up with an +exclamation. + +"Blamed if they ain't got company, from the look uh things," he grunted, +squinting down. "I thought that was considerable of a trail for them t' +make. You fellers wait here a minute. I want t' find out which way them +tracks come in." + +He loped back, swinging in north of the campground. While he was gone, +MacRae and I leaned over in our saddles and scanned closely the +grass-carpeted bottom-land. That the hoofs of passing horses had pressed +down the rank growth of grass was plain enough, but whether the hoofs of +six or a dozen we could only guess. Piegan turned, rode to where they +had built their fire, circled the place, then came back to us. + +"All right," he said. "I was sure there was more livestock left that +campin'-place than we followed in. They come from the north--four +hosses, two uh them rode an' the other two led, I think, from the way +they heaved around a-crossin' a washout back yonder." + +A mile or so farther we crossed a bare sandy stretch on the flat bottom +of another coulee, and on its receptive surface the trail lay like a +printed page--nine distinct, separate horse-tracks. + +"Five riders an' four extra hosses, if I ain't read the sign wrong," +Piegan casually remarked. "Say, we'll have our hands full if we bump +into this bunch unexpected, eh?" + +"They'll make short work of us if they get half a chance," Mac agreed. +"But we'll make it a surprise party if we can." + +From there on Piegan set a pace that taxed our horses' mettle--that was +one consolation--we were well mounted. All three of us were good for a +straightaway chase of a hundred miles if it came to a showdown. Piegan +knew that we must do our trailing in daylight, and rode accordingly. He +kept their trail with little effort, head cocked on one side like a +saucy meadowlark, and whistled snatches of "Hell Among the Yearlin's," +as though the prospect of a sanguinary brush with thieves was pleasing +in the extreme. + +The afternoon was on its last lap when we came in sight of Stony +Crossing. The trail we followed wound along the crest of a ridge midway +between the Crossing and Ten Mile Spring, where we had left Baker's +outfit that rainy morning. The freighters had moved camp, but the mud +and high water had held them, for we could see the white-sheeted wagons +and a blur of cattle by the cottonwood grove where Hank Rowan had made +his last stand. Presently we crossed the trail made by the string of +wagons; it was fresh; made that morning, I judged. A little farther, on +a line between the Crossing and the Spring, Piegan pulled up again, and +this time the cause of his halting needed no explanation. The bunch had +stopped and tarried there a few minutes, as the jumbled hoof-marks bore +witness, and the track of two horses led away toward Ten Mile Spring. + +"Darn it all!" Piegan grumbled. "Now, what d'yuh reckon's the meanin' uh +that? Them two has lit straight for where Baker's layout was camped this +mornin'. What for? Are they pullin' out uh the country with the coin? Or +are they lookin' for you fellers?" + +"Well"--MacRae thought a moment--"considering the care they've taken to +cover up their movements, I don't see what other object they could have +in view but making a smooth getaway. They've worked it nicely all +around. You know that if there was anything they wanted they weren't +taking any risk by going to any freight camp. We're the only men in the +country that know why they are pulling out this way--and _they_ know +that we daren't go in and report it, because they've managed to put us +on the dodge. They have reason to be sure that headquarters wouldn't for +a minute listen to a yarn like we'd have to tell--they'd have time to +ride to Mexico, while we sucked our thumbs in the guardhouse waiting for +the rest of the Police to get wise by degrees." + +"Then I tell yuh what let's do," Piegan abruptly decided. "I like t' +know what's liable t' happen when I'm on a jaunt uh this kind. One of us +better head in for the Crossin' an' find out for sure if any uh them +fellers come t' the camp, an' what he wanted there. An' seein' nobody +outside uh Horner knows I'm in on this play, I reckon I better go +m'self. If there should happen t' be a stray trooper hangin' round +there, the same would be mighty awkward for you fellers. So I'll go. You +poke along the trail slow, an' I'll overhaul yuh." + +"All right," MacRae agreed, and Piegan forthwith departed for the +Crossing. + +After Piegan left us we rode at a walk, and even then it was something +of a task to follow the faint impression. In the course of an hour a +cluster of dark objects appeared on the bench, coming rapidly toward us. +MacRae brought the glasses to bear on them at once, for there was always +the unpleasant possibility of Mounted Policemen cutting in on our trail; +the riders of every post along the line were undoubtedly on the watch +for us. + +"It's Piegan and another fellow," Mac announced shortly. "They're +leading two extra horses, and Piegan has changed mounts himself. I +wonder what's up--they seem to be in a dickens of a hurry." + +We got off and waited for them, wondering what the change of horses +might portend. They swung down to us on a run, and it needed no second +glance at the features of Piegan Smith to know that he brought with him +a fresh supply of trouble. His scraggly beard was thrust forward +aggressively, and his deep-set eyes fairly blazed between narrowed lids. + +"Slap your saddles on them fresh hosses," he grated harshly from the +back of a deep-chested, lean-flanked gray. "Let the others go--to hell +if they want to!" + +"What's up?" I asked sharply, and MacRae flung the same query over one +shoulder as he fumbled at the tight-drawn latigo-knot. + +Piegan rose in his stirrups and raised a clenched fist; the seamed face +of him grew purple under its tan, and the words came out like the +challenge of a range-bull. + +"Them--them ---- ---- ---- ---- ---- has got your girl!" he roared. + +The latigo dropped from MacRae's hand. "What?" he turned on Piegan +savagely, incredulously. + +"I said it--I said it! Yuh heard me, didn't yuh!" Piegan shouted. "This +mornin' about sunrise. That Hicks--the damned ---- ---- ---- he come t' +Baker's as they hooked up t' leave the Spring. He had a note for her, +an' she dropped everything an' jumped on a hoss he'd brought an' rode +away with him, cryin' when she left. He told Horner you'd bin shot +resistin' arrest, an' wanted t' see her afore yuh cashed in. They ain't +seen hide nor hair uh her since. Aw, don't stand starin' at me thataway. +Hurry up! They ain't got twelve hours' start--an' by God I'll smell 'em +out in the dark for this!" + +It was like a knife-thrust in the back; such a devilish and unexpected +turn of affairs that for half a second I had the same shuddery feeling +that came to me the night I stooped over Hans Rutter and gasped at sight +of what the fiends had done. MacRae whitened, but the full import of +Piegan's words stunned him to silence. The bare possibility of Lyn Rowan +being at the dubious mercy of those ruthless brutes was something that +called for more than mere words. He hesitated only a moment, nervously +twisting the saddle-strings with one hand, then straightened up and tore +loose the cinch fastening. + +After that outburst of Piegan's no one spoke. While Mac and I +transferred our saddles to the Baker horses, Piegan swung down from his +gray and, opening the pack on the horse we had been leading, took out a +little bundle of flour and bacon and coffee and tied it behind the +cantle of his saddle. A frying-pan and coffee-pot he tossed to me. Then +we mounted and took to the trail again, stripped down to fighting-trim, +unhampered by a pack-horse. + +Of daylight there yet remained a scant two hours in which we could hope +to distinguish a hoof-mark. Piegan leaned over his saddle-horn and took +hills and hollows, wherever the trail led, with a rush that unrolled the +miles behind us at a marvelous rate. For an hour we galloped silently, +matching the speed of fresh, wiry horses against the dying day, no sound +arising in that wilderness of brown coulee banks and dun-colored prairie +but the steady beat of hoofs, and the purr of a rising breeze from the +east. Then I became aware that Piegan, watching the ground through +half-closed eyelids, was speaking to us. From riding a little behind, to +give him room to trail, we urged our horses alongside. + +"Them fellers at Baker's camp," he said, without looking up, "would 'a' +come in a holy minute if there'd been hosses for 'em t' ride. But they +only had enough saddle-stock along t' wrangle the bulls--an' I took +three uh the best they had. Three of us is enough, anyhow. We kain't +ride up on them fellers now an' go t' shootin'. They're all together +again. I seen, back a ways, where them two hoss-tracks angled back from +the spring. They must 'a' laid up at that camp we passed till sometime +before daylight--seein' that damned Hicks come t' Baker's early this +mornin'. An' if they didn't travel very fast t'-day--which ain't likely, +'cause they probably figure they're dead safe, and their track don't +show a fast gait--there's just a chance that we'll hit 'em by dark if we +burn the earth. We're good for thirty miles before night covers up their +track. Don't yuh worry none, old boy," he bellowed at MacRae. "Old Injun +Smith'll see yuh through. God! I could 'a' cried m'self when I hit that +camp an' the old nigger woman went t' bawlin' when I told her yuh was +both out on the bench, sound as a new dollar. That was the first they +suspicioned anythin' was wrong. Them dirty, low-lived ---- ---- ----!" + +Piegan lapsed into a string of curses. MacRae, apparently unmoved, +nodded comprehension. But I knew what he was thinking, and I knew that +when once we got within striking distance of Hicks, Gregory & Co., there +would be new faces in hell without delay. + +We slowed our horses to a walk to ascend an abrupt ridge. When we gained +the top a vast stretch of the Northwest spread away to the east and +north. Piegan lifted his eyes from the trail for an instant. + +"Great Lord!" he said. "Look at the buffalo. It'll be good-by t' these +tracks before long." + +As far as the eye could reach the prairie was speckled with the herds, +speckled with groups of buffalo as the sky is dotted with clusters of +bright stars on a clear night. They moved, drifting slowly, in a +southerly direction, here in sharply defined groups, there in long +lines, farther in indistinct masses. But they moved; and the air that +filled our nostrils was freighted with the tang of smoke. + +We did not halt on the ridge. There was no need. We knew without +speculating what the buffalo-drift and the smoke-tinged air presaged; +and it bade us make haste before the tracks were quite obliterated. + +So with the hill behind us, and each of us keeping his thoughts to +himself--none of them wholly pleasant, judging by my own--we galloped +down the long slope, a red sunset at our backs and in our faces a gale +of dry, warm wind, tainted with the smell of burning grass. And at the +bottom of the slope, in the depths of a high-walled coulee where the +evening shadows were mustering for their stealthy raid on the gilded +uplands, we circled a grove of rustling poplars and jerked our horses up +short at sight of a scarlet blotch among the gloom of the trees. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +HONOR AMONG THIEVES. + + +We knew, even as our fingers instinctively closed on the handles of our +six-shooters, that we had not come upon the men we wanted; in such a +case there would have been an exchange of leaden courtesies long before +we managed to get in their immediate vicinity. It was unlikely that they +would cease to exercise the cunning and watchfulness that had, so far, +carried their infernal schemes through with flying colors. And a second +look showed us that the scarlet coat belonged to a man who half-sat, +half-lay on the ground, his shoulders braced against the trunk of a +fallen tree. We got off our horses and went cautiously up to him. + +"Be not afraid; it is only I!" Goodell raised his head with an effort +and greeted us mockingly. "I am, as you can see, hors de combat. What is +your pleasure, gentlemen?" + +The weakness of his tone and the pallid features of him vouched for the +truth of his statement. Stepping nearer, we saw that the light-colored +shirt showing between the open lapels of his jacket was stained a +tell-tale crimson. The hand he held against his breast was dabbled and +streaked with the blood that oozed from beneath the pressing fingers; +the leaf-mold under him was saturated with it. + +"Where is the rest of the bunch?" MacRae asked him evenly. "You seem to +have got a part of what is coming to you, but your skirts aren't clear, +for all that." + +"You have a bone to pick with me, eh?" Goodell murmured. "Well, I don't +blame you. But don't adopt the role of inquisitor--because I'm as good +as dead, and dead men tell no tales. My mouth will be closed forever in +a little while--and I can die as easily with it unopened. But if you'll +get me a drink of water, and be decent about it, I'll unfold a tale +that's worth while. I assure you it will be to your interest to give me +a hearing." + +Piegan turned and strode out of the timber. He unfastened the +coffee-pot from my saddle, and made for the coulee channel we had +crossed, in which a buffalo-wallow still held water from the recent +rain. + +Goodell coughed, and a red, frothy stream came from his lips. It isn't +in the average man to be utterly callous to the suffering of another, +even if that other richly deserves his pain. Notwithstanding the +deviltry he and his confederates had perpetrated, I couldn't help +feeling sorry for Goodell--what little I'd seen of him had been likable +enough. I found it hard to look at him there and believe him guilty of +murder, robbery, and kindred depredations. He was beyond reach of +earthly justice, anyway; and one can't help forgiving much to a man who +faces death with a smile. + +"Are you in any pain, Goodell?" I asked. + +"None whatever," he answered weakly. "But I'm a goner, for all that. I +have a very neat knife-thrust in the back. Also a bullet somewhere in my +lungs. You see in me," he drawled, "a victim of chivalry. I've played +for big stakes; I've robbed gaily, and killed a man or two in the way of +fighting; all of which sits lightly on my conscience. But there are two +things I haven't done. I want you to remember distinctly that I have +_not_ dragged that girl into this--nor had any hand in torturing a +wounded old man." + +"You mean Lyn Rowan? Is she safe?" Mac squatted beside him, leaning +eagerly forward to catch the reply. Piegan returned with the water as +Goodell was about to answer. He swallowed thirstily, took breath, and +went on. + +"Yes, I mean her," he said huskily. "I'll tell you quick, for I know I +won't last long, and when I'm done you'll know where to look for them. I +started this thing--this hold-up business--no matter why. Lessard was +away in the hole--gambling and other things--I hinted the idea to him; +he jumped at it, as I thought he would. And----" + +"Lessard!" I interrupted. "He was in on this, then?" + +"Was he?" Goodell echoed. "He is the whole thing." + +I had suspected as much, but sometimes it is a surprise to have one's +suspicions confirmed. I glanced at Mac and Piegan. + +"I was sure of it all along," Mac answered my unspoken thought. Piegan +merely shrugged his shoulders. + +"I wanted to get that government money in the pay-wagon, that was +all--at first," Goodell continued. "We planned a long time ahead, and we +had to take in those three to make it go. Then Lessard found out about +those two old miners, and put Hicks and Gregory on their trail unknown +to me--I had no hand in that foul business. You know the result--the +finish--that night you lost the ten thousand--it was hellish work. I +wanted to kill Hicks and Gregory when they told me. Poor old Dutchman! +Lessard put Bevans on your trail, Flood. He followed you from Walsh that +day, and you played into his hands that night when you stirred up the +fire. Only for running into his partners, he would probably have +murdered you for that ten thousand some night while you slept. Give me +another drink." + +I lifted the pot of water to his lips again, and he thanked me +courteously. + +"Then Lessard conceived the theory that you fellows had learned more +than you told. We were fixed to get the paymaster on that trip. We shook +you, and did the job. MacRae was on the way--you know. He sent you to +the Stone with those devils to keep cases on you. It seemed a pity to +let slip that gold-dust after they had gone so far. You know how that +panned out. We had a stake then. Lessard was the brains, the guiding +genius; we did the work. The original plan was to make a clean-up, +divide with him, and get out of the country--while he used his authority +to throw the Force off the track till we were well away. Then the girl +appeared, and Lessard lost his head. She turned him down; and at the +last moment he upset our plans by deciding to cut loose and go with us. +I believe now that he hatched this latest scheme when she refused him. I +tell you he was fairly mad about her. He took advantage of this last +trip to loot the post of all the funds he could lay hands on. We +have--or, rather, _they_ have," he corrected, "about a hundred and fifty +thousand altogether. + +"We couldn't ford Milk River on account of the storm. You tracked us? +You saw our last camp? Yes. Well, we left there early this morning. And +when Hicks turned off opposite Baker's outfit with an extra horse, I +thought nothing of it--it was perfectly safe, and we needed more +matches, Lessard said. Not until he joined us later with the girl did I +suspect that there were wheels within wheels; a kidnapping had never +occurred to me; I hadn't thought his infatuation would carry him that +far. She realized at once that she had been hoodwinked, and appealed to +Lessard. He laughed at her, and told her that he had abandoned the +modern method of winning a mate, and gone back to the primitive mode. + +"I've put myself beyond the pale; outlaw, thief, what you like--I'm not +sensitive to harsh names. But a woman--a good woman! Well, I have my own +ideas about such things. And when we camped here, I had made up my mind. +I told Lessard she must go back. That was a foolish move. I should have +got the drop and killed him out of hand. While I argued with him, Hicks +slipped a knife into my back, and as I turned on him Lessard shot me. +Ah, well--it'll be all the same a hundred years from now. But I'd like +to put a spoke in their wheel for the sake of that blue-eyed girl. + +"MacRae, you and Smith know the mouth of Sage Creek, and the ford there. +That's where they'll camp to-night. I doubt if they'll cross the river +till morning. If you ride you can make it in three hours. From there +they plan to follow Milk River to the Missouri and catch a down-stream +boat. But you'll get them to-night. You must. Now give me another +drink--and drift!" + +"We'll get them, Goodell." MacRae rose to his feet as he spoke. "You're +white, if you did get off wrong. I'll remember what you did--for her. Is +there anything we can do for you?" + +Goodell shook his head. "I tell you," he said, and turned his head to +look wistfully up at the eastern coulee-rim, all tinted with the blazing +sunset. "I'll go out over the hills with the shadows. An hour--maybe +two. It's my time. I've no complaint to make. All I want is a drink. You +can do no good for a dead man; and the living are sorely in need. It'll +be a bit lonesome, that's all." + +"No message for anybody?" MacRae persisted. + +"No--yes!" The old mocking, reckless tone crept into his voice again. +"If you should have speech with Lessard before you put his light out, +tell him I go to prepare a place for him--a superheated grid! Now +drift--_vamos_--hit the trail. Remember, the gorge at the mouth of Sage +Creek. Good-by." + +Soberly we filed out from among the trees, now swaying in the grip of +the wind, their leafy boughs rustling sibilantly; as though the weird +sisters whispered in the nodding branches that here was another thread +full-spun and ready for the keen shears. Soberly we swung to the saddle +and rode slowly away, lest the quick beat of hoofs should bring a sudden +pang of loneliness to the intrepid soul calmly awaiting death under the +shivering trees. I think that one bold effort to right a wrong will +more than wipe out the black score against him when the Book of Life is +balanced. + +A little way beyond the poplar-grove Piegan drew rein, and held up one +hand. + +"Poor devil," he muttered. "He's a-calling us." + +But he wasn't. He was fighting off the chill of loneliness that comes to +the strongest of us when we face the unknowable, the empty void that +there is no escaping. Dying there in the falling dusk, he was singing to +himself as an Indian brave chants his death-song when the red flame of +the torture-fire bites into his flesh. + + Sing heigh, sing ho, for the Cavalier! + Sing heigh, sing ho, for the Crown. + Gentlemen all, turn out, turn out; + We'll keep these Roundheads down! + Down--down--down--down. + We'll ke--ep these Round--heads down! + +Once--twice, the chorus of that old English Royalist song rose up out of +the grove. Then it died away, and we turned to go. And as we struck home +the spurs, remembering the mouth of Sage Creek and the dark that was +closing down, a six-shooter barked sharply, back among the trees. + +I swung my horse around in his tracks and raced him back to the poplars, +knowing what I would find, and yet refusing to believe. I will not say +that his big heart had failed him; perhaps it did not seem to him worth +while to face the somber shadows to the bitter end, lying alone in that +deep hollow in the earth. It may be that the night looked long and +comfortless, and it was his wish to go out with the sun. He lay beside +the fallen tree, his eyes turned blankly to the darkening sky, the +six-shooter in his hand as he had held it for the last time. I +straightened his arms, and covered his face with the blood-stained coat +and left him to his long sleep. And even old Piegan lifted his hat and +murmured "Amen" in all sincerity as we turned away. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +THE BISON. + + +When we reached high ground again the twilight was fading to a +semicircle of bloodshot gray in the northwest. The wind still blew +squarely in our faces. Down in the coulee we had not noticed it so much, +but now every breath was rank with the smell of grass-smoke, and each +mile we traversed the stink of it grew stronger. + +"We'll be blamed lucky if we don't run into a prairie-fire before +mornin'," Piegan grumbled. "If that wind don't let up, she'll come +a-whoopin'. It'll be a sure enough smoky one, too, with this mixture uh +dry grass an' the new growth springin' up. It didn't rain so hard down +in this country, I notice. Ain't that a lalla of a smell?" + +Neither of us answered, and Piegan said no more. It grew dark--dark in +the full sense of the word. The smoke-burdened atmosphere was impervious +to the radiance of the stars. Only by Smith's instinctive sense of +direction did we make any headway toward the mouth of Sage Creek. Even +MacRae owned himself somewhat at fault, once we came among the buffalo. +They barred our path in dimly-seen masses that neither halted, +scattered, nor turned aside when we galloped upon them in the gloom. We +were the ones who gave the road, riding now before, now behind the +indistinct bulk of a herd, according as we judged the shorter way. + +More dense became the brute mass. Whirled this way and that, as Piegan +led, I knew neither east, west, north or south from one moment to +another. Betimes we found a stretch of open country, and gave our horses +the steel, but always to bring up suddenly against the bison plodding in +groups, in ranks, in endless files. They were ubiquitous; stolid +obstructions that we could neither avoid nor ride down. Our progress +became monotonous, a succession of fruitless attempts to advance; +hopeless, like wandering in a subtle maze. Bison to the right of us, +bison to the left of us, an uncounted swarm behind us, and as many +before--but they neither bellowed nor thundered; they passed like +phantoms in the night, soundlessly save for the muffled trampling of +cloven hoofs, and here and there upon occasion hoarse coughings that +were strangled by the wind. + +And we rode as silently as the bison marched. For each one of us had +seen that one-minded pilgrimage of the brown cattle take place in moons +gone by. I recalled a time when a trail-herd lay on the Platte and the +buffalo barred their passing for two days--even made fourteen riders and +three thousand Texas steers give ground. Is it not history that the St. +Louis-Benton river-boats backed water when the bison crossed the +Missouri in the spring and fall? Remembering these, and other times that +the herds had gathered and swept over the plains, a plague of monstrous +locusts, pushing aside men and freight-trains, I knew what would happen +should the buffalo close their ranks, marshal the scattered groups into +closer formation, quicken the pace of the multitude that poured down +from the north. And presently it happened. + +Insensibly the number of moving bodies increased. The consolidation was +imperceptible in the murk, but nevertheless it took place. We ceased to +find clear spaces where we could gallop; a trot became impossible. We +were hemmed in. A rank animal odor mingled with the taint of smoke. +Gradually the muffled beat of hoofs grew more pronounced, a shuffling +monotone that filled the night. We were mere atoms in a vast wave of +horn and bone and flesh that bore us onward as the tide floats +driftwood. + +The belated moon stole up from its lair, hovered above the sky-line, a +gaudy orange sphere in the haze of smoke. It shed a tenuous glimmer on +the sea of bison that had engulfed us; and at the half-revealed sight +MacRae lifted his clenched hands above his head and cursed the +circumstance that had brought us to such extremity. That was the first +and only time I knew him to lose his poise, his natural repression. +Still water runs deep, they say; and a glacial cap may conceal +subterranean fires. Trite similes, I grant you--but, ah, how true. The +good Lord help those phlegmatics who can stand by unmoved when a +self-contained man reveals the anguish of his soul in one passionate +outburst. Could the fury that quivered in his voice have wreaked itself +on the bison and the men we followed, the stench of their blasted +carcasses would have reached high heaven. But the bison surrounded us +impassively, bore us on as before; somewhere, miles beyond, Lessard +pursued the evil tenor of his way; and MacRae's futile passion, like a +wave that has battered itself to foam against a sullen cliff, subsided +and died. Later, while we three cast-aways drifted with the bovine tide, +he spoke to Piegan Smith. + +"How are we going to get through?" + +"Dunno. But we _will_ get through, yuh c'n gamble on that." Optimism +rampant was the dominating element in Piegan's philosophy of life. + +As if to prove that he was a true prophet, the herd split against a +rocky pinnacle, and on this we stranded. So much, at least, we had +gained--we were no longer being carried willy-nilly out of our way. + +"If they'd only scatter a little," MacRae muttered. + +But for a long two hours the bison streamed by our island, dividing +before and closing behind the insensate peak that alone had power to +break their close-packed ranks. Then came an opening, a falling apart; +slight as it was, we plunged into it with joy. Thereafter we were +buffeted like chips in the swirling maw of a whirlpool; we fought our +way rod by rod. Here an opening, and we shot through; there a solid wall +of flesh for whose passing we halted, lashing out with quirts and +spurring desperately to hold our own--a war for the open road against an +enemy whose only weapon was his unswerving bulk. And we won. We pushed, +twisted, spurred our way through the ranks of a hundred thousand bison. +Jostling, cursing the brute swarm, we crowded our horses against the +press, and lo! of a sudden we reined up on open ground--the bison, like +a nightmare, were gone. Off in the gloom to one side of us a myriad of +hoofs beat the earth, the hoarse coughings continued, the animal odor +exhaled--but it was no longer a force to be reckoned with. We were free. +We had outflanked the herd. + +[Illustration: A WAR FOR THE OPEN ROAD AGAINST AN ENEMY WHOSE ONLY +WEAPON WAS HIS UNSWERVING BULK. + +_Page 256._] + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE MOUTH OF SAGE CREEK. + + +With that opposing force behind us, we bore away across the shrouded +benches, straight for the mouth of Sage Creek. What method we would +pursue when we got there was not altogether clear to me, and the same +thing evidently bothered Piegan, for, after a long interval, he +addressed himself pointedly to MacRae. + +"We ought t' hit the river in an hour or so," he said. "It's time we +figured on how we're goin' t' work, eh? I wish t' the Lord it was +daylight." + +"So do I," MacRae moodily responded. "For that matter, it won't be long. +I've been thinking that the best way would be to get down on the flat at +the north of the creek and _cache_ our horses in the timber. Then we can +sneak around without making any noise. If they're not camped on the +flat, we'll find them somewhere up the gorge. Of course, there's a +chance that they have crossed the river--but if they didn't get there +in daylight, and the river is still high, I hardly think they'd risk +fording in the dark." + +"That's about the way I had sized it up," Piegan replied. "The flat +ain't bigger'n a good-sized flapjack, nohow, an' if they're on that or +up in Sage Creek canyon, we're bound t' locate 'em; kain't help hearin' +their hosses snort or cough or make some sort uh noise, if we go +careful. The worst of it is, we kain't start the ball a-rollin' till we +get that girl spotted--that's the hell of it! Like as not she'd be the +first one t' get hurt. An' if we get rambunctious an' stir 'em up in the +dark, an' _don't_ put the finishin' to 'em right then an' there--why, +they got all the show in the world t' make a hot-foot getaway. _Sabe?_ +While I ain't lookin' for a chance t' sidestep the game, for I know how +yuh feel, I'd say locate 'em if we can, an' then back up a little and +wait for day." + +"Oh, I know, I know!" Mac burst out. "That's sense. But it gives me the +creeps to think--to think----" + +"Sure; we know it," Piegan answered softly. "We kain't tell till we get +there, anyway. Maybe we'll get 'em dead t' rights. No tellin' what'll +come up when we get into that canyon. When we get 'em spotted we c'n +make up our minds what t' do--if we have any time t' talk about it," he +finished, in an undertone. + +As we rode, the crimson-yellow reflection of burning prairies began to +tint the eastern sky; once, from the crest of a hill, we saw the +wavering line of flame, rising and falling in beautiful undulations. And +presently we galloped across a mile or two of level grassland and pulled +up on the very brink of Sage Creek canyon. + +"Easy, easy, from here on," Piegan whispered caution. "We may be right +above 'em, for all we know. We hit it a little too high up. How far +d'yuh reckon it is t' the mouth, Mac?" + +"Not more than half a mile," MacRae returned. "We're not far out. I know +where there's a good place to get down." + +We turned sharply to the right, coming out on a narrow point. Without +mishap we reached the foot of the steep hill. At the bottom the wind was +almost wholly shut off, so that sounds were easier to distinguish. The +moon had passed its zenith long since, and half of the flat lay in dense +shadow. Beyond the shadow a pall of smoke lay over everything, a +shifting haze that made objects near at hand indefinite of outline, +impossible to classify at a glance. A horse or a tree or a clump of +brush loomed up grotesquely in the vaporous blur. + +Mac, to whom the topography of that gloomy place was perfectly familiar, +led the way. A black, menacing wall that rose before us suddenly +resolved itself into a grove of trees, great four-foot cottonwoods. He +stole into the heart of the grove and satisfied himself that our game +had not appropriated it as a camping-place. That assured, we followed +with our horses and tied them securely, removing saddles and bridles, +lest the clank of steel or creaking of leather betray our presence to +listening ears. On any noise our horses might make we had no choice but +to take a chance. Then we looked to our guns and set out on a stealthy +search. + +A complete circle of that tiny bottom--it was only a shelf of sage-brown +land lying between the river and the steep bank--profited us nothing, +and Piegan whispered that now we must seek for them in the gorge. + +Cautiously we retraced our steps from the lower end of the flat, and +turned into the narrow mouth of the canyon. We had no more than got +fairly between the straight-up-and-down walls of it than Piegan halted +us with a warning hand. We squatted in the sage-brush and listened. +Behind us, from the river, came a gentle plashing. + +"Beaver," I hazarded. + +"Too loud," Piegan murmured. "Let's go back an' see." + +We reached the river-edge just in time to hear the splashing die away; +and though we strained our eyes looking, we could make out no movement +on the surface of the river or in the dimly-outlined scrub that fringed +the opposite bank. Piegan turned on the instant and ran to where we had +tied our horses; but they stood quietly as we had left them. + +"I got a hunch they'd got onto us, an' maybe set us afoot for a +starter," Piegan explained. "I reckon that must 'a' been a deer or some +other wild critter." + +Once more we turned into the canyon, and this time followed its narrow, +scrub-patched floor some three hundred yards up from the river. It was +dark enough for any kind of deviltry in that four-hundred foot gash in +the earth; the sinking moon lightened only a strip along the east wall, +near the top; lower down, smoke mingling with the natural gloom cast an +impenetrable veil from bank to bank; not a breath of air stirred the +tomblike stillness. Directly in front of us a horse coughed. We dropped +on all fours, listened a moment, then crept forward. Without warning, we +found ourselves foul of a picket-line, and the vague forms of grazing +horses loomed close by. Piegan halted us with a touch, and we lay flat; +then with our heads together he whispered softly: + +"We must be right on top uh them. It's a cinch their camp ain't far from +their livestock. I wonder----" + +To the left of us a horse snorted nervously; we heard him trot with +high, springy strides to the end of his rope, and snort again. Then a +voice cut the stillness that followed: "Here, you fool, what's the +matter with you?" + +We hugged the ground like frightened rabbits. It hardly seemed possible +that we could be within speaking-distance of them--yet that was +Gregory's clear enunciation; I would know his speech in a jabberfest of +several nations. + +"What's the matter?" That, by the curt inflection, the autocratic +peremptoriness, was Lessard. I had one hand on MacRae's shoulder, and I +felt a tremor run through his body, like the rising of a cat's fur at +sight of an adversary. + +"Oh, nothing much," Gregory answered carelessly. "I was just speaking to +one of these fool horses. They seem to be as nervous as you are." And +we could hear him chuckle over this last remark. + +After that there was nothing but the muffled tr-_up_, tr-_up_ of grazing +horses. Piegan or MacRae, I could not tell which, tugged gently at my +arm, and the three of us retreated slowly, crawling both literally and +figuratively. When we were well away from the camp of that ungodly +combination, Piegan rose to his feet and we proceeded a little faster +until we reached a distance that permitted of low-toned conversation. + +"Now," Piegan declared, "we have 'em located. An' I'm here t' declare +that it's plumb foolish t' mix things with that layout till we can see +t' shoot tolerable straight. If we go against 'em now, it'll be all same +goin' blindfolded into a barn t' pick out the best hoss. The first gun +that pops they'll raise up an' quit the earth like a bunch uh antelope. +_They_ ain't got nothin' t' win in a fight--unless they're cornered. I +did think uh tryin' t' get off with their hosses, but I figured it +wouldn't pay with that sharp-eared cuss on the watch. Whenever it comes +day, we got all the best uh things--though I don't reckon we'll have a +walkaway. We want t' make a clean job once we start in, an' we kain't do +that in the dark. Furthermore, as I said before, if we go t' throwin' +lead when we kain't see ten feet in front of us, we'd just about hit +that girl first rattle out uh the box. She ain't comin' t' no harm just +now, or it wouldn't be so blamed peaceful around there. It's only a +matter of a couple uh hours t' daylight, anyhow. What d'yuh think?" + +"Under the circumstances, the only thing we can do is to wait," MacRae +assented, and I fancied that there was a reluctant quiver in his usually +steady voice. "It's going to be smoky at daybreak, but we can see their +camp from this first point, I think. There's a big rock over here--I'll +show you--you and Sarge can get under cover there. I'll lie up on the +opposite side, so they'll have to come between us. Let them pack and get +started. When they get nearly abreast, cut loose. Shoot their +saddle-horses first, then we can fight it out. Come on, I'll show you +that rock." + +MacRae's bump of location was nearly as well developed as Piegan's. He +picked his way through the sage-brush to the other side of the canyon, +bringing us in the deepest gloom to a great slab of sandstone that had +fallen from above, and lay a few feet from the base of the sheer wall. +It was a natural breastwork, all ready to our hand. There, without +another word, he left us. Crouching in the shelter of that rock, not +daring to speak above a whisper, denied the comforts of tobacco, it +seemed as if we were never to be released from the dusky embrace of +night. In reality it was less than two hours till daybreak, but they +were slow-footed ones to me. Then dawn flung itself impetuously across +the hills, and the naked rim of the canyon took form in a shifting whirl +of smoke. Down in the depths gloom and shadows vanished together, and +Piegan Smith and I peered over the top of our rock and saw the outlaw +camp--men and horses dim figures in the growing light. We scanned the +opposite side for sight of MacRae, but saw nothing of him; he kept close +under cover. + +"They're packin' up," Piegan murmured, with a dry chuckle. "I reckon +things won't tighten nor nothin' in a few minutes, eh? But say, damn if +I see anything among that layout that resembles a female. Do you?" + +I did not, even when I focused the field-glasses on that bunch at that +short distance. Certainly she was not there--at least she was not to be +seen, and I could almost read the expression on each man's features, so +close did the glasses draw them up. And failing to see her started me +thinking that after all she might have given them the slip. I hoped it +might be so. Lyn was no chicken-hearted weakling, to sit down and weep +unavailingly in time of peril. Bred on the range, on speaking-terms with +the turbulent frontier life, her wits weren't likely to forsake her in a +situation of that kind. + +While the light of day grew stronger and the smoke eddied in heavier +wreaths above, one of them swung up on a horse and came down the bottom +at a fast lope. We had no means of knowing what his mission might be, +but I did know that the square shoulders, the lean eagle face, could +only belong to one man; and I dropped the glasses and drew a bead on his +breast. I hesitated a second, squinting along the barrel of the carbine; +I wanted him to round the point that jutted out from the other side of +the canyon, so that his partners could not see his finish. If they did +not see him go down, nor observe the puff of smoke from behind the rock, +they might think he had fired a shot himself. And while I waited, +grumbling at the combination of circumstances that made it necessary to +shoot down even a cold-blooded brute like him in such a way, Mac took +the matter out of my hands in his own characteristic fashion. + +Lessard turned the point, and as the carbine-hammer clicked back under +the pull of my thumb, MacRae sprang to his feet from behind a squatty +clump of sage, right in Lessard's path. Nervy as men are made, MacRae +worshiped at the shrine of an even break, a square deal for friend or +foe. And Lessard got it. There among the sage-brush he got a fair chance +for his life, according to the code of men who settle their differences +at the business end of a six-shooter. But it wasn't Lessard's hour. +Piegan Smith and I saw his hand flash to his pistol, saw it come to a +level, heard the single report of MacRae's gun. It was a square +deal--which Lessard had not given us. He crumpled in the saddle; +sprawled a moment on the neck of his horse, and dropped to the ground. +MacRae sank behind the sage again, and we waited for the others. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +AN ELEMENTAL ALLY. + + +But they did not come. One of them must have seen Lessard fall, for at +the crack of MacRae's gun men and horses, already half-hidden by the +thickening smoke, vanished into the brush. Piegan fired one ineffectual +shot as they flicked out of sight. So far we had seen nothing of Lyn. I +was satisfied she was not in the party, unaccountable as that seemed to +be. + +"Darn 'em," Piegan grunted disgustedly. "They're next, now. An' they +don't aim t' run the gantlet till they have t'. We got 'em penned, +anyway; they can't get out uh that patch uh brush without showin' +themselves." + +"Oh, Piegan!" MacRae called to us. He lay within easy shouting-distance, +and managed to make himself heard without rising. + +"Hello!" Piegan answered. + +"Can you fellows keep them from going up the canyon?" + +"I reckon we can," Smith called back, "unless this smoke gets so blame +thick we kain't see at all." + +"All right. I'm going up on top, and throw it into them from above. +Maybe I can drive them out of the brush." + +Piegan slapped me on the shoulder. "Darn our fool hearts," he exclaimed. +"We ought to 'a' thought uh that before. Why, he c'n pick 'em off like +blackbirds on a fence, from up there on the bench!" + +We did not see MacRae go, but we knew that he must have crawled through +the sage-brush to the creek channel, where, by stooping, he could gain +the mouth of the canyon unseen. Anyway, our time was fully occupied in +watching the brush-patch that sheltered our plundering friends. They +held close to their concealment, however, nor did they waste any powder +on us--for that matter, I don't think they knew just where we were, and +they were familiar enough with the gentle art of bushwhacking to +realize that the open was a distinctly unhealthy place for either party +to prospect. + +It was a long time till we heard from MacRae again, and, lying there +passively, we grew afraid that after all they would give us the slip; +for the smoke was now rolling in black clouds above the gorge. So far +the thickest of it had blown overhead, but any moment a change of wind +might whip it down the canyon bottom like an ocean fog, and that would +mean good-by to Hicks & Co. + +"That fire's mighty close, an' comin' on the jump," Piegan remarked, +with an upward glance. "I wish she'd let up long enough for us t' finish +this job. That smoke's as good as they want, once it begins t' settle in +the gorge. What in thunder d'yuh s'pose Mac's doin' all this time. He +ought t' show pretty quick, now." + +He showed, as Piegan put it, very shortly. From the top of the opposite +bank he fired a shot or two, and drew for the first time a return from +the enemy. Then he broke off, and when he next gave hint of his +whereabouts, it was to hail us from the nearest point on the canyon rim. + +"Quit your hide-out and pull for the mouth of the gorge. Quick! I'll be +there." + +"What the hell's up now!" Piegan muttered. "Well, I guess we'll have t' +take a chance. If they don't wing us before we get across this bald +place, we'll be all right. Run like yuh was plumb scairt t' death, +Flood." + +We sprinted like a pair of quarter-horses across the thirty yards of +bare ground that spread in front of the rock, a narrow enough space, to +be sure, but barren of cover for a jack-rabbit, much less two +decent-sized men. My heart was pumping double-quick when we threw +ourselves headlong in the welcome sage-brush--they had done their level +best to stop us, and some of those forty-four caliber humming-birds +buzzed their leaden monotone perilously close to our heads. That is one +kind of music for which I have a profound respect. + +From there to the creek-channel we crawled on all fours, as MacRae had +done. Stooping, lest our heads furnish a target, we splashed along in +the shallow water till we reached the mouth of the canyon. There we +slipped carefully to higher ground. MacRae was scrambling and sliding +down from above, barely distinguishable against the bank. Far up the +gorge dense clouds of black smoke swooped down from the benchland. +Already the patch of brush in which lay the renegade Policemen was +hidden in the smudge, shut away from our sight. We hailed MacRae when he +reached the foot of the hill, and he came crashing through sage and +buck-brush and threw himself, panting, on the ground. + +"The fire," he gasped, "is coming down the gorge. They're cut off at the +other end. They've got to come out here in a little while--or roast. The +smoke would choke a salamander, on top, right now. We can't miss them in +this narrow place, no matter how thick it gets. Look yonder!" + +A wavering red line licked its way to the canyon-edge on the east side, +wiped out the grass, and died on the bald rim-rock. Away up the creek a +faint crackling sounded. + +"Dry timber," Piegan muttered. "It'll get warm 'round here pretty +directly." + +The smoke, blacker now, more dense, hot as a whiff from a baker's oven, +swooped down upon us in choking eddies. It blew out of the canyon-mouth +like a gust from a chimney, rolling over and over in billowy masses. The +banks on either hand were almost invisible. We knew that our time of +waiting was short. The popping of dry, scrubby timber warned us that our +position would soon be untenable. The infernal vapors from the unholy +mixture of green and dry grass, berry bushes, willow scrub, and the +ubiquitous sage, made breathing a misery and brought unwilling tears to +our stinging eyes. And presently, above the subdued but menacing noises +of the fire, the beat of galloping hoofs uprose. + +They burst out of the mouth of the canyon, a smoke-wreathed whirlwind, +heading for the protection of the river. The pack-horses, necked +together, galloped in the lead, and behind them Hicks, Gregory, and +Bevans leaned over the necks of their mounts. They knew that we were +waiting for them, but at the worst they had a fighting chance with us, +and none with what came behind. So thick hung the smoky veil that they +were right on top of us before they took tangible shape; and when we +rose to our knees and fired, the crack of their guns mingled with that +of our own. Gregory, so near that I could see every feature of his dark +face, the glittering black eyes, the wide mouth parted over white, even +teeth, wilted in his saddle as they swept by. Bevans and his horse went +down together. But Hicks the wily, a superb horseman, hung in his off +stirrup and swerved away from us, and the smoke closed behind him to the +tune of our guns. + +It was done in less time than it has taken to tell of it. There was no +prolonged hand-to-hand struggle with buckets of blood marring the +surrounding scenery, and a beautiful heroine wringing her hands in +despair; merely a rush of horses and men out of the smoke, a brief spasm +of gun-fire--it was begun and ended in five seconds. But there were two +fallen men, and Piegan Smith with a hole through the big muscle of his +right arm, to show that we had fought. + +The pack-horses, with no riders at their heels to guide them, had +tangled each other in the connecting-rope and stopped. Hicks was gone, +and likely to keep going. So we turned our attention to Gregory and +Bevans. Gregory was dead as the proverbial door-nail, but Bevans, on +investigation, proved to be very much alive--so much so that if he had +not been partly stunned by the fall, and thereafter pinned to the ground +by a thousand-pound horse, he would have potted one or two of us with a +good heart. As it was, we reached the gentleman in the same moment that +he made a heroic effort to lay hold of the carbine which had +luckily--for us--fallen beyond the length of his arm. + +"Yuh lay down there an' be good!" Piegan, out of the fullness of his +heart, emphasized his command with the toe of his boot. "Where's that +girl, yuh swine?" + +"Go to hell!" Bevans snarled. + +"Here," MacRae broke in hastily, "we've got to move pretty _pronto_, +and get across the river. That fire will be on us in five minutes. Sarge +and I will gather up their horses. You keep an eye on Bevans, Piegan; +he'll answer questions fast enough when I get at him." + +While Mac dashed across the creek I captured Gregory's horse, which had +stopped when his rider fell; and as I laid hand on the reins I thought I +heard a shot off beyond the river. But I couldn't be certain. The whine +of the wind that comes with a fire, the crackle of the fire itself, the +manifold sounds that echoed between the canyon walls and the pungent, +suffocating smoke, all conspired against clear thinking or hearing. I +listened a moment, but heard no more. Then, with time at a premium, I +hastened to straighten out the tangle of pack-animals. Mac loomed up in +the general blur with Lessard's body on his horse, as I led the others +back to where Piegan stood guard over Bevans. + +"Ain't this hell!" he coughed. "That fire's right on top of us. We got +t' make the river in a hurry." + +It was another minute's work to lash Gregory's body on one of the +pack-horses, and release the sullen Bevans from the weight of his dead +mount. As an afterthought, I looked in the pockets on his saddle, and +the first thing I discovered was a wad of paper money big enough to +choke an ox, as Piegan would say. I hadn't the time to investigate +further, so I simply cut the _anqueros_ off his saddle and flung them +across the horn of my own--and even in that swirl of smoke and sparks I +glowed with a sense of gratification, for it seemed that at last I was +about to shake hands with the ten thousand dollars I had mourned as +lost. Then Piegan and I drove Bevans ahead of us and moved the spoils of +war to the river brink, while MacRae hurried to the cottonwood grove +after our own neglected mounts; they had given us too good service to be +abandoned to the holocaust. + +MacRae soon joined us with the three horses; out into the stream, wading +till the water gurgled around our waists, we led the bunch. Then we +were compelled to take our hats and slosh water over packs and saddles +till they were soaked--for the fire was ravaging the flat we had just +left, and showers of tiny sparks descended upon and around us. Thus +proof against the fiery baptism, though still half-strangled by the +smoke, our breathing a succession of coughs, we mounted and pushed +across. + +The high water had abated and the river was now flowing at its normal +stage, some three hundred yards in width and nowhere swimming-deep on +the ford. We passed beyond spark-range and splashed out on a sand-bar +that jutted from the southern bank. Midway between the lapping water and +the brush that lined the edge of the flat, a dark object became +visualized in the shifting gray vapor. We rode to it and pulled up in +amaze. Patiently awaiting the pleasure of his master, as a good cavalry +horse should, was the bay gelding Hicks had ridden; and Hicks himself +sprawled in the sand at the end of the bridle-reins. I got down and +looked him over. He was not dead; far from it. But a bullet had scored +the side of his head above one ear, and he was down and out for the +time. + +We stripped the pistol-belt off him, and a knife. At the same time we +rendered Bevans incapable of hostile movement by anchoring both hands +securely behind his back with a pack-rope. That done, Piegan's bleeding +arm came in for its share of attention. Then we held a council of war. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +SPEECHLESS HICKS. + + +When I spoke of holding a council of war, I did so largely in a +figurative sense. Literally, we set about reviving Hicks, with a view to +learning from him what had become of Lyn Rowan. He and Bevans +undoubtedly knew, and as Bevans persisted in his defiant sullenness, +refusing to open his mouth for other purpose than to curse us +vigorously, we turned to Hicks. A liberal amount of water dashed in his +face aided him to recover consciousness, and in a short time he sat up +and favored us with a scowl. + +"What has become of that girl you took away from Baker's freight-train +yesterday morning?" MacRae dispassionately questioned. + +Hicks glared at him by way of answer. + +"Hurry up and find your tongue," MacRae prompted. + +"I dunno what you're drivin' at," Hicks dissembled. + +"You will know, in short order," MacRae retorted, "if you harp on that +tune. We've got you where we want you, and I rather think you'll be glad +to talk, before long. I ask you what became of that girl between the +time you knifed Goodell and this morning?" + +Hicks started at mention of Goodell. His heavy face settled into +stubborn lines. He blinked under MacRae's steady look. Of a sudden he +sprang to his feet. I do not know what his intention may have been, but +he got little chance to carry out any desperate idea that took form in +his brain, for MacRae knocked him back on his haunches with a single +blow of his fist. + +"Answer me," he shouted, "or by the Lord! I'll make you think hell is a +pleasure-garden compared to this sand-bar." + +"Kick a few uh his ribs out uh place for a starter," Piegan coolly +advised. "That'll he'p him remember things." + +Yet for all their threats Hicks obstinately refused to admit that he had +ever seen Lyn Rowan. What his object was in denying knowledge we knew he +possessed did not transpire till later. He knew the game was lost, so +far as he was concerned, and he was mustering his forces in a last +effort to save himself. And MacRae's patience snapped like a frayed +thread before many minutes of futile query. + +"Get me a rope off one of those pack-horses, Sarge," he snapped. + +I brought the rope; and I will brazenly admit that I should not have +balked at helping decorate the limb of a cottonwood with those two +red-handed scoundrels. But I was not prepared for the turn MacRae took. +Hicks evidently felt that there was something ominous to the fore, for +he fought like a fiend when we endeavored to apply the rope to his arms +and legs. There was an almost superhuman desperation in his resistance, +and while MacRae and I hammered and choked him into submission Piegan +gyrated about us with a gun in his left hand, begging us to let _him_ +put the finishing touches to Hicks. That, however, was the very +antithesis of MacRae's purpose. + +"I don't want to _kill_ him, Piegan," he said pointedly, when Hicks was +securely tied. "If I had, do you suppose I'd dirty my hands on him in +that sort of a scramble when I know how to use a gun? I want him to +talk--you understand?--and he _will_ talk before I'm through with him." + +There was a peculiar inflection about that last sentence, a world of +meaning that was lost on me until I saw Mac go to the brush a few yards +distant, return with an armful of dry willows and place them on the sand +close by Hicks. Without audible comment I watched him, but I was +puzzled--at first. He broke the dry sticks into fragments across his +knee; when he had a fair-sized pile he took out his knife and whittled a +few shavings. Not till he snapped his knife shut and put it in his +pocket and began, none too gently, to remove the boots from Hicks' feet, +did I really comprehend what he was about. It sent a shiver through me, +and even old Piegan stood aghast at the malevolent determination of the +man. But we voiced no protest. That was neither the time nor place to +abide by the Golden Rule. Only the law of force, ruthless, inexorable, +would compel speech from Hicks. And since they would recognize no +authority save that of force, it seemed meet and just to deal with them +as they had dealt with us. So Piegan Smith and I stood aloof and watched +the grim play, for the fate of a woman hung in the balance. Hicks' +salient jaw was set, his expression unreadable. + +MacRae stacked the dry wood in a neat pyramid twelve inches from the +bare soles of Hicks' feet. He placed the shavings in the edge of the +little pile. Then he stood up and began to talk, fingering a match with +horrible suggestiveness. + +"Perhaps you think that by keeping a close mouth there's a chance to get +out of some of the deviltry you've had a hand in lately. But there +isn't. You'll get what's coming to you. And in case you're bolstering up +your nerve with false hopes in that direction, let me tell you that we +know exactly how you turned every trick. I don't particularly care to +take the law into my own hands; I'd rather take you in and turn you +over to the guard. But there's a woman to account for yet, and so you +can take your choice between the same deal you gave Hans Rutter and +telling me what became of her." + +He paused for a moment. Hicks stared up at him calculatingly. + +"I'll tell you all I know about it if you turn me loose," he said. "Give +me a horse and a chance to pull my freight, and I'll talk. Otherwise, +I'm dumb." + +"I'll make no bargains with you," MacRae answered. "Talk or take the +consequences." + +Hicks shook his head. MacRae coughed--the smoke was still rolling in +thick clouds from over the river--and went on. + +"Perhaps it will make my meaning clearer if I tell you what happened to +Rutter, eh? You and Gregory got him after he was wounded, didn't you? He +wouldn't tell where that stuff had been _cached_. But you had a way of +loosening a man's tongue--I have you to thank for the idea. Oh, it was a +good one, but that old Dutchman was harder stuff than you're made of. +You built a fire and warmed his feet. Still he wouldn't talk, so you +warmed them some more. Fine! But you didn't suppose you'd ever get +_your_ feet warmed. I'm not asking much of you, and you'll be no deeper +in the mire when you answer. If you don't--well, there's plenty of wood +here. Will you tell me what I want to know, or shall I light the fire?" + +Still no word from Hicks. MacRae bent and raked the match along a flat +stone. + +"Oh, well," he said indifferently, "maybe you'll think better of it when +your toes begin to sizzle." + +He thrust the flaring match among the shavings. As the flame crept in +among the broken willows, Hicks raised his head. + +"If I tell you what become of her, will you let me go?" he proposed +again. "I'll quit the country." + +"You'll tell me--or cook by inches, right here," Mac answered +deliberately. "You can't buy me off." + +The blaze flickered higher. I watched it, with every fiber of my being +revolting against such savagery, and the need for it. I glanced at +Piegan and Bevans. The one looked on with grim repression, the other +with blanched face. And suddenly Hicks jerked up his knees and heaved +himself bodily aside with a scream of fear. + +"Put it out! Put it out!" he cried. "I'll tell you. For God's +sake--anything but the fire!" + +"Be quick, then," MacRae muttered, "before I move you back." + +"Last night," Hicks gasped, "when we pulled into the gorge to camp, she +jerked the six-shooter out uh Lessard's belt and made a run for it. She +took to the brush. It was dark, and we couldn't follow her. I don't know +where she got to, except that she started down the creek. We hunted for +her half the night--didn't see nothin'. That's the truth, s'help me." + +"Down the creek--say, by the great Jehosophat!" Piegan exclaimed. "D'yuh +remember that racket in the water this mornin'? Yuh wait." He turned +and ran down-stream. Almost instantly the smoke had swallowed him. + +MacRae stood staring for a second or two, then turned and scattered the +fire broadcast on the sand with a movement of his foot. He lifted his +hat, and I saw that his forehead and hair was damp with sweat. + +"That was a job I had mighty little stomach for," he said, catching my +eye and smiling faintly. "I thought that sulky brute would come through +if I made a strong bluff. I reckon I'd have weakened in another minute, +if he hadn't." + +"Ugh!" I shuddered. "It gave me the creeps. I wouldn't make a good +Indian." + +"Nor I," he agreed. "But I had to know. And I feel better now. I'm not +afraid for Lyn, since I know she got away from _them_." + +Piegan, at this moment, set up a jubilant hallooing down the river, and +shortly came rushing back to us. + +"Aha, I told yuh," he cried exultantly. "That was her crossed the river +this mornin'. I found her track in the sand. One uh yuh stand guard, +and the other feller come with me. We c'n trail her." + +"Go ahead," I told MacRae--a superfluous command, for I could not have +kept him from going if I had tried. + +So I was left on the sand-bar with two dead thieves, and two who should +have been dead, and a little knot of horses for company. Hicks and +Bevans gave me little concern. I had helped tie both of them, and I knew +they would not soon get loose. But it was a weary wait. An hour fled. I +paced the bar, a carbine in the crook of my arm and a vigilant eye for +incipient outbreaks for freedom on the part of those two wolves. The +horses stood about on three legs, heads drooping. The smoke-clouds +swayed and eddied, lifted a moment, and closed down again with the +varying spasms of the fire that was beating itself out on the farther +shore. I sat me down and rested a while, arose and resumed my nervous +tramping. The foglike haze began to thin. It became possible to breathe +without discomfort to the lungs; my eyes no longer stung and watered. +And after a period in which I seemed to have walked a thousand miles on +that sandy point, I heard voices in the distance. Presently MacRae and +Piegan Smith broke through the willow fringe on the higher ground--and +with them appeared a feminine figure that waved a hand to me. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +THE SPOILS OF WAR. + + +All things considered, it was a joyous knot of humanity that gathered on +that sand-bar--if one excepts the two plunderers who were tied hard and +fast, their most cheerful outlook a speedy trial with a hangman's noose +at the finish. I recollect that we shook hands all around, and that our +tongues wagged extravagantly, regardless of whoever else might be +speaking. We settled down before long, however, remembering that we were +not altogether out of the woods. + +The fire by this time had, to a great extent, beaten itself out on the +opposite bank, and with nothing left but a few smoldering brush-patches, +the smoke continued to lift and give us sundry glimpses of the black +desolation that spread to the north. So far as we knew, the wind had +carried no sparks across the river to fire the south side and drive us +back to the barrenness of the burned lands. And with the certainty that +Lyn was safe, and that we were beyond disputing masters of the +situation, came consciousness of hunger and great bodily weariness. It +was almost twenty-four hours since we had eaten, and we were simply +ravenous. As a start toward an orderly method of procedure, we began by +re-dressing Piegan's punctured arm, which had begun to bleed again; +though it was by no means as serious a hurt as it might have been. +Piegan himself seemed to consider it a good deal of a joke on him, and +when I remarked that I failed to see how a bullet-hole through any part +of one's person could be regarded in a humorous light, Piegan snorted, +and told me that I would know more when I grew up. A little ventilation, +he declared, was something a man's system needed every year or two. + +Then we unsaddled and unpacked the horses, and moved them up on the +grassy flat. Piegan elected himself guard over the prisoners, while the +rest of us cooked a belated breakfast, and he assured them repeatedly +that he would be delighted to have them make a break, so that he could +have the pleasure of perforating their individual and collective hides. +I really believe the old rascal meant it, too; he succeeded, at least, +in giving that impression, and his crippled arm was no handicap to +him--he could juggle a six-shooter right or left-handed with amazing +dexterity. + +Lyn substantiated Goodell's story in every detail, so far as it had +dealt with her, and she told me, while we pottered about the fire, how +she waited her chance when they made camp in Sage Creek, and, snatching +Lessard's gun, ran for it in the dark. + +"I didn't really know where I was," she told me naively. "So I thought +I'd better hide till daylight and watch them go before I started. Then I +could try and make my way back to the freight outfit--I felt sure they +would either wait for me or send a man back to Walsh when I didn't come +back. I was hiding in those cottonwoods when you came stealing in there +this morning. You were so quiet, I couldn't tell who it was--I thought +perhaps they were still hunting for me; they did, you know--they were +rummaging around after me for a long time. But I never dreamed it could +be you and Gordon. So I sneaked down to the river and crossed; I was +deadly afraid they'd find me, and I thought once I was on the other side +I could hear them coming, and scuttle away in the brush. Then about +daylight I heard some shooting, and wondered if they had been followed. +I didn't dare cross the river and start over the hills with that fire +coming, and the smoke so thick I couldn't tell a hill from a hollow. I +waited a while longer--I was in this brush up here"--she pointed to a +place almost opposite--"and in a little while I heard more shooting, and +in a minute or so, he"--indicating Hicks--"came splashing through the +river. He was on the sand-bar before I could see him clearly, and coming +straight toward where I was huddled in the brush. Oh, but I was +frightened, and before I knew it, almost, I poked the gun between the +branches and fired at his head as straight as I could--and he fell off +his horse. Then I ran, before any more of them came. And that's really +all there is to it. I was plodding up the river, when I heard Gordon +shouting two or three hundred yards behind. Of course I knew his voice, +and stopped. But dear me! this seems like a bad dream, or maybe I ought +to say a good one. I hope you won't all disappear in the smoke." + +"Don't you worry," MacRae assured her. "When we vanish in the smoke +we'll take you with us." + +After we had eaten we made a systematic search of packs and +saddle-pockets, and when we had finished there was more of the root of +all evil in sight than I have laid my eyes on at any one time before or +since. The gold that had drawn us into the game was there in the same +long, buckskin sacks, a load for one horse. The government money, looted +from the paymaster, part gold coin and part bills, they had divided, and +it was stowed in various places. Lessard's saddle-pockets were crammed, +and likewise those of Hicks and Gregory. Bevans' _anqueros_, which I had +taken from his dead horse, yielded a goodly sum. Altogether, we counted +some seventy-odd thousand dollars, exclusive of the gold-dust in the +sacks. + +"There's a good deal more than that, according to Goodell's figures," +MacRae commented. "Lessard must have got away with quite a sum from the +post. I daresay the pockets of the combination hold the rest. But I +don't hanker to search a dead man, and that can wait till we get to +Walsh." + +"Yuh goin' t' lug this coyote bait t' Fort Walsh?" Piegan inquired. "I'd +leave 'em right here without the ceremony uh plantin'. An' I vote right +here an' now t' neck these other two geesers together an' run 'em off'n +a high bank into deep water." + +"I'd vote with you, so far as my personal feeling in the matter goes," +MacRae replied. "But we've got a lot of mighty black marks against us, +right now, and we're going in there to relate a most amazing tale. Of +course, we can prove every word of it. But I reckon we'll have to take +these two carcasses along as a sort of corroborative evidence. Every +confounded captain in the Force will have to view them officially; they +wouldn't take our word for their being dead. So it would only delay the +clearing up of things to leave them here. These other jaspers will lend +a fine decorative effect to the noosed end of a three-quarter-inch rope +for their part in the play--unless Canadian justice miscarries, which +doesn't often happen if you give it time enough to get at the root of +things." + +Much as we had accomplished, we still had a problem or two ahead of us. +While we didn't reckon on having to defend ourselves against the +preposterous charge of holding up the paymaster, there was that little +matter of violent assault on the persons of three uniformed +representatives of Northwestern law--assault, indeed, with deadly +weapons; also the forcible sequestration of government property in the +shape of three troop-horses with complete riding appurtenances; the +uttering of threats; all of which was strictly against the peace and +dignity of the Crown and the statutes made and provided. No man is +supposed, as MacRae had pointed out to me after we'd held up those three +troopers, to inflict a compound fracture on one law in his efforts to +preserve another. But it had been necessary for us to do so, and we had +justified our judgment in playing a lone hand and upsetting Lessard's +smoothly conceived plan to lay us by the heels while he and his thugs +got away with the plunder. We had broken up as hard a combination as +ever matched itself against the scarlet-coated keepers of the law; we +had gathered them in with the loot intact, and for this signal service +we had hopes that the powers that be would overlook the break we made on +Lost River ridge. Lessard had created a damnatory piece of evidence +against himself by lifting the post funds; that in itself would bear +witness to the truth of our story. It might take the authorities a while +to get the proper focus on the tangle, but we could stand that, seeing +that we had won against staggering odds. + +From the mouth of Sage Creek to Fort Walsh it is a fraction over fifty +miles, across comparatively flat country. By the time our breakfast was +done we calculated it to be ten o'clock. We had the half of a long +mid-summer day to make it. So, partly because we might find the full +fifty miles an ash-strewn waste, fodderless, blackened, where an +afternoon halt would be a dreary sojourn, and partly for the sake of the +three good horses we had pushed so unmercifully through the early hours +of the night, we laid on the grassy river-bottom till noon. Then we +packed, placed the sullen captives in the saddle with hands lashed +stoutly, mounted our horses and recrossed the river. Once on the uplands +we struck the long trot--eight hours of daylight to make fifty miles. +And we made it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +THE PIPE OF PEACE. + + +Twenty minutes after the sunset gun awoke the echoes along Battle Creek +we slipped quietly into Fort Walsh and drew rein before the official +quarters of the officer of the day; a stiffened, saddle-weary group, +grimy with the sooty ash of burned prairies. From the near-by barracks +troopers craned through windows, and gathered in doorways. For a moment +I thought the office was deserted, but before we had time to dismount, +the captain ranking next to Lessard appeared from within, and behind him +came a medium-sized man, gray-haired and pleasant of countenance, at +sight of whom MacRae straightened in his saddle with a stifled +exclamation and repeated the military salute. + +The captain stared in frank astonishment as MacRae got stiffly out of +his saddle and helped Lyn to the ground. Then he snapped out some sharp +question, but the gray-haired one silenced him with a gesture. + +"Softly, softly, Stone," he said. "Let the man explain voluntarily." + +"Beg to report, sir," MacRae began evenly, "that we have captured the +men who robbed Flood, murdered those two miners, and held up the +paymaster. Also that we have recovered all the stolen money." + +"What sort of cock-and-bull story is this?" Stone broke in angrily. +"Preposterous! Orderly, call----" + +"Easy, easy now, Captain Stone," the older man cut in sharply. "A man +doesn't make a statement like that without some proof. By the way," he +asked abruptly, "how did you manage to elude Major Lessard and get in +here?" + +MacRae pointed to one of the horses. "We didn't elude him. You'll find +what's left of the black-hearted devil under that canvas," he answered +coolly. "Lessard was at the bottom of the crookedness. We've packed him +and Paul Gregory fifty miles for you to see." + +"Ha!" the old fellow seemed not so surprised as I had expected. He +glanced over the lot of us and let another long-drawn "ha" escape. + +"May I ask a favor, Colonel Allen?" MacRae continued. "This lady has had +a hard day. Will you excuse her, for the present? We have a story to +tell that you may find hard to credit." + +The colonel (I'd heard of him before; I knew when MacRae spoke his name +that he was Commander-in-Chief of the Northwest Mounted Police, the +biggest gun of all) favored us with another appraising stare. + +"These men, I take it, are prisoners?" he said, pointing to Hicks and +Bevans. + +"You bet your sweet life them's prisoners," Piegan broke in with +cheerful assurance. "Them gentlemen is candidates for a rope necktie +apiece--nice perfessional assassins t' have in the Police!" + +Allen turned to the orderly. "A detail of four from the guardhouse on +the double-quick," he commanded. + +Captain Stone stood by gnawing his mustache while Allen listened +unmoved as MacRae pointed out the horse on which was packed the bulk of +the loot, and gave him a brief outline of the abduction and the +subsequent fight at the mouth of Sage Creek. The orderly returned with +the detail, and Allen courteously sent him to escort Lyn to the +hospitality of Bat Perkins' wife, as MacRae asked. After which the guard +marshaled Piegan, MacRae, and me, along with Hicks and Bevans, into the +room where MacRae and Lessard had clashed that memorable day. Then they +carried in the two bodies and laid them on the floor, and last of all +the pack that held Hank Rowan's gold and the government currency. + +While this was being done an orderly flitted from house to house on +officers' row; the calm, pleasant-voiced, shrewd old Commissioner +gathered his captains about him for a semi-official hearing. The dusk +faded into night. Here and there about the post lights began to twinkle. +We stood about in the ante-room, silent under the vigilant eye of the +guard. After an uncertain period of waiting, the orderly called "Gordon +MacRae," and the inquisition began. + +One at a time they put us on the rack--probing each man's story down to +the smallest detail. It was long after midnight when the questioning was +at an end. The finale came when a trooper searched the bodies of Lessard +and Gregory, and relieved Hicks and Bevans of the plunder that was still +concealed about their persons. They counted the money solemnly, on the +same desk by which Lessard stood when MacRae flung that hot challenge in +his teeth, and lost his stripes as the penalty. Outside, the wind arose +and whoo-_ee_-ed around the corner of the log building; inside, there +was a strained quiet, broken only by the occasional rattle of a loose +window, the steady chink--chink of coin slipping through fingers, the +crisp rustle of bills, like new silk. And when it was done Allen leaned +back in his chair, patting the arm of it with one hand, and surveyed the +neatly piled money and the three buckskin sacks on the desk before him. +Then he stood up, very erect and stern in the yellow lamplight. + +"Take those men to the guardhouse," he ordered curtly, pointing an +accusing finger at Hicks and Bevans. "Iron them securely--securely!" + +He turned to me. "I regret that it will be necessary for you to wait +some little time, Flood, before your money can be restored to you," he +said in a pleasanter tone. "There will be certain formalities to go +through, you understand. You will also be required as a witness at the +forthcoming trial. We shall be glad to furnish you and Smith with +comfortable quarters until then. It is late, but MacRae knows these +barracks, and doubtless he can find you a temporary sleeping place. +And, in conclusion, I wish to compliment all three of you on the +courage and resource you displayed in tracking down these damnable +scoundrels--_damnable_ scoundrels." + +He fairly exploded that last phrase. I daresay it was something of a +blow to his pride in the Force to learn that such deviltry had actually +been fathered by one of his trusted officers; something the same +sorrowful anger that stirs a man when one of his own kin goes wrong. +Then, as if he were half-ashamed of his burst of feeling, he dismissed +us with a wave of his hand and a gruff "That's all, to-night." + + * * * * * + +That practically was the finish of the thing. There was, of course, a +trial, at which Hicks and Bevans were convicted out of hand and duly +sentenced to be hung--a sentence that was carried out with neatness and +despatch in the near future. Also, I did manage, in the fullness of +time, to deliver La Pere's ten thousand dollars without further +gun-play. + +Colonel Allen knew a good man when he saw one--he was not long in +demonstrating that fact. When everything was straightened out, +MacRae--urged thereto by Lyn--made a straightforward request for +honorable discharge But he did not get it. Instead, the gray-haired +Commissioner calmly offered him promotion to an Inspectorship, which is +equivalent to the rank of a captain, and carries pay of two thousand a +year. And MacRae, of course, accepted. + +The day he cast off the old red jacket of the rank and file and put on +the black uniform with braid looped back and forth across the front of +it, and gold hieroglyphics on the collar, Piegan Smith and I stood up +with him and Lyn and helped them get fitted to double harness. Not that +there was any lack of other folk; indeed, it seemed to me that the +official contingent of Fort Walsh had turned out en masse to attend the +ceremony. But Piegan and I were the star guests. + + * * * * * + +Ah, well, we can't always be young and full of the pure joy of living. +One must grow old. And inevitably one looks back with a pang, and sighs +for the vanished days. But Time keeps his scythe a-swinging, and we go +out--like a snuffed candle. We _lived_, though, we who frolicked along +the forty-ninth parallel when Civilization stood afar and viewed the +scene askance; but she came down upon us and took possession fast enough +when that wild land was partly tamed, and now few are left of those who +knew and loved the old West, its perils, its hardships, its bigness of +heart and readiness of hand. Such of us as remain are like the buffalo +penned in national parks--a sorry remnant of the days that were. + + +THE END. + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Raw Gold, by Bertrand W. 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