Judith of Blue Lake Ranch

by Jackson Gregory

  XXVI

  JUDITH'S PERIL

  "The better to see you by, my dear!" was Quinnion's word of greeting.Judith made no answer. She drew a little farther back into theshadows, a little closer to the things she had hidden among thefir-branches.

  "Ho," sneered Quinnion, his mood from the first plain enough to read inthe glimpses of his face and in the added harshness of his voice."Timid little fawn, huh? By God, a man would say from the bluff youput up that it was all a dream about findin' you an' the han'some Leein the cabin together! Stan' off all you damn please; I've come totame you, you little beauty of the big innocent eyes!"

  Not drunk; no, Quinnion was never drunk. But, as he came a stepcloser, the heavy air of the cave grew heavier with the whiskey hecarried, whiskey enough to stimulate the evil within him, not to quenchit.

  "Stand back!" cried Judith, with a sharp intake of breath. "I want totalk with you, Chris Quinnion."

  "So you know who I am, do you? Well, much good it'll do you."

  "I know who you are and what you are," she told him defiantly, suddenlysick of her long hours of playing baby, knowing at the moment less fearthan hatred and loathing. "Listen to me: Bayne Trevors has come out inthe open at last; he has made his big play and is going to lose out onit. Your one chance now is to let me go and to go yourself. Go fastand far, Chris Quinnion. For when the law knows the sort Bayne Trevorsis and how you have worked hand and glove with him, it will know justhow much his word was worth when he swore you were with him when fatherwas killed! Coward and cur and murderer!"

  Quinnion laughed at her.

  "Little pussy-cat," he jeered. "You've got claws, have you? And youspit and growl, do you? Want me to let you go back to that swaggeringlover of yours, do you? Back to Lee----"

  "That's enough, Quinnion," she said sharply.

  "Is it?" He laughed at her again, and again came on toward her, thered-rimmed evil of his eyes driving quick fear at last into her."Enough? Why, curse you and curse him, I haven't begun yet! When I'mthrough with you I'll go fast enough. And he can have you then an'damn welcome to him!"

  "Stop!" cried Judith.

  His laughter did not reach her ears now, but as he kicked the fire athis foot and the flames leaped up and showed his face, she read thelaughter in his soul; read it through the gleaming eyes, the twistedmouth which showed the teeth at one side in a horrible leer. His longarms thrust out before him, he came on.

  "Oh, my God!" cried Judith. "My God!"

  Then suddenly she was silent. She thought that she had known theuttermost of fear and now for the first time did she fully know whatterror was. His strength was many times her strength, his brutalitywas unbounded, she was alone with him. There was no one to call to,not even Ruth, the mad woman.

  She was shaking now, shaking so that she could barely stand. Quinnioncame on, his long arms out. . . .

  She felt the strength die out of her body, grew for a moment blind anddizzy and sick. She tried again to call out to him, to plead with him.But her voice stuck in her throat.

  He was gloating over her, a look strangely like Mad Ruth's in his eyes.Good God! He was like Mad Ruth; the same eyes, the same long, powerfularms, the same look of cunning! In a flash there came to her asuspicion which was near certainty: this man was blood of Mad Ruth'sblood, bone of her bone; her son, and, like her, tainted with madness.

  He shot out a long arm, his hand barely brushing her shoulder. Sheshrank back. He stood, content to pause a moment, to gloat furtherover her.

  "You little beauty," he said, panting. "You little white and pink andbrown beauty!"

  Judith had shuddered when he touched her. But a strange thing hadhappened to her. His touch had angered her so that she almost forgotto be afraid, angered her so that the loathing was gone in white hothatred, giving her back her old strength.

  Now, though he had the brutal force of a strong man, Quinnion did nothave the swiftness of movement of an alert, desperate girl. Before hecould grasp her motive she leaped toward him and toward the bed ofboughs, found the ragged stone, and lifting it high above her headflung it full into his face. The man staggered back, crying out inthroaty harshness, a cry of blind rage. But he did not fall, did notpause more than a brief instant.

  A little dazed, with blood in his eyes, he lunged toward her. She hadfound the club now and struck with all her might, again beating intohis face and again and again. He sought to grapple with her and shebeat him back. She saw his hand go to his hip and heard him curse her,and she leaped in on him and, panting with the blow, struck again. Heflung up his arm. She struck once more. Taking the blow full acrossthe face, Quinnion reeled back, stumbled at an uneven spot in the rockfloor, balanced, almost falling. . . .

  Only a moment he held thus. But there was a chance to pass him in thenarrow way, and she took her chance, her heart beating wildly. And asshe shot by she struck again.

  She heard him after her, shouting curses, stumbling a little, comingon. The door was open, thank God, the door was open! She shotthrough. If she could but take time to close it! But there was notime for that; he was almost at her heels. And outside was the ledgeand the dizzy climb down.

  If she slipped, if she fell, well, it would just be a clean death andnothing more. Quinnion was but a few steps behind her. He had notfired. Had he perhaps dropped his gun back there in the darkness? Orwas he so sure of taking her, alive and struggling, into his arms inanother moment?

  She was on the ledge. It was dark, pitch-dark.

  But she found a handhold, threw herself flat down and thrust her feetout over the edge, less afraid of what lay below than what came onbehind her. She was gripping the ledge now with her hands, alreadytorn and bleeding, her feet swinging, touching sheer rock wall,slipping, seeking a foothold. Quinnion was just there, above her. Shemust move her hands so that he could not reach her. It seemed aneternity that she hung there, seeking a place somewhere to set her feet.

  She found it, another, lesser ledge which she had almost missed, andknew that this way she had clambered upward with Bayne Trevors. If shecould only find another step and another before Quinnion came upon her!She held her club in her teeth; she must not let that go.

  Quinnion was over the ledge, following her. She heard his heavybreathing, heard him cursing her again. She was going so slowly, soslowly, and Quinnion would know the way better than she. Quinnionwould make better time in the dark.

  She moved along this lower ledge. At each instant she wondered if itwere to be her last, if she were going to fall, if a swift drop throughthe darkness would be the end of life.

  Suddenly there was scarce room in the girl's breast for hatred of ChrisQuinnion, so filled was it with the love of life. She wanted to seethe sun come up again, she wanted the sweet breath of the dawn in hernostrils, the beauty of a sun-lit world in her eyes. She thought ofBud Lee.

  Clinging to the rocks, hanging on desperately, taking a score ofdesperate chances momentarily, she made her way on and down. She foundscant handhold and, almost falling, dropped her club, heard it strike,strike again. Black as the night was, its gloom was less than that ofthe cavern to which Judith had grown accustomed; little by little shebegan to make out the broken surface of the cliffs. The chasm belowwas a pool of ink; above were the little stars; in the eastern sky, lowdown, was a promise of the rising moon.

  The surge of quickening hope came into her heart. Had she hurtQuinnion more than she had guessed? For, slowly as she made herhazardous way down, it seemed to her that Quinnion came even moreslowly. Could she but once get down into the gorge below, could sheslip along the course of the racing stream, she might run and the soundof her steps would be lost even to her own ears in the sound of thewater; the sight of her flying body would be lost to Quinnion's eyes.

  Then she heard him laughing above her. Laughing, with a snarl and acurse in his laugh, and something of malicious triumph. Was he socertain of her then?

  "Ruth!" called Quinnion. "Oh,
Ruth! The girl's gettin' away. Goin'down the rocks. Head her off at the bottom."

  Judith had found, because her fate was good to her, the long slantingcrack in the wall of rock up which she had come that day with BayneTrevors. There was still danger of a fall, but the danger was less nowthan it had been ten seconds ago. She could move more swiftly now andconfidence had begun to com to her that she could elude Quinnion. Butnow, suddenly, she heard Mad Ruth's voice screaming a shrill answer toQuinnion's shout; knew that Ruth had been in her cabin across the gorgeand was running to intercept her at the foot of the cliffs.

  Well, still there was a race to be run and the odds not entirelyuneven. Ruth must descend the other side of the canon, get down intothe gorge, make the crossing, which, so far as Judith knew, might befarther up or farther down stream, come to the cliffs below Judithbefore Judith herself made her way down.

  Again Judith took what risks the night and the rocks offered her andthanked God in her soul that it was given her to take a chance in theopen, to use her own muscles in her own fight, not to lie longer,playing the part of a do-nothing. Now and then, across the void, therefloated to her a little moaning cry from the mad woman's lips. Now andthen she heard a curse from Quinnion above; often from above her, frombelow her own feet, from across the chasm, dropping stones, fallingalmost sheer, told of haste and death which might come from an unluckystep.

  Fast as Judith went now, having a fair sort of cliff trail under her,Mad Ruth went faster. The gorge measured a scant fifty feet betweenthem and the girl's alert senses told her that already Ruth was on alevel with her. Ruth was winning in the desperate race. She knew herway down so perfectly, her heart was so filled with madness, thatdanger was nothing to her.

  Down and down climbed Judith, caution wedded to haste, as she toldherself that she had a chance yet, that that chance must not be tossedaway in a fall, though it were but a few feet. She must have nosprained ankle if she meant to see the sun rise to-morrow.

  The flush had brightened in the sky where the moon was so near theridge. The moon, too, had joined in the race; with one quick glancetoward it, Judith again discarded caution for haste. She must get downinto the floor of the canon before the moonlight did; she must berunning before its radiance showed her out to Quinnion and Ruth.

  Her hands were cut and bleeding, her heart was beating wildly, alreadyher body was sore and bruised. But these things she did not know. Sheonly knew that Quinnion was still coming on above her, and coming moreswiftly now, quite as swiftly as she herself moved, since his feet,too, were in the better trail; that Mad Ruth had completed the descentacross the chasm and by now must be crossing the stream upon somefallen log or rude bridge; that one minute more, or perhaps two, woulddecide her fate.

  She could see the stream, glinting palely in the starlight. It seemedvery near; its thunder filled her ears. Down she went and down, downuntil at last she was not ten feet above its surface, with a strip ofgently sloping bank just under her. She stooped, took firm hold upon aknob of boulder, prepared to swing down and drop to the bottom. And,as she stooped, she heard a little whining moan just under her andstraightened up, tense and terrified. Mad Ruth was there before her.Mad Ruth was waiting.