Bransford of Rainbow Range

by Eugene Manlove Rhodes

  CHAPTER XIV

  FLIGHT

  "Keep away from that wheelbarrow--what the hell do you know about machinery?"--ELBERT HUBBARD.[B]

  [Footnote B: It is not intimated that Mr. Hubbard wrote this--merelythat he printed it.--AUTHOR.]

  Just after dark a horseman with a led horse came jogging round themountain on the trail from Escondido. On the led horse was a pack boundrather slouchily, not to a packsaddle, but to an old riding saddle. Thehorses were unwilling to enter the circle of firelight, so the riderdrew rein just beyond--a slender and boyish rider, with a floppingwide-brimmed hat too large for him.

  "Oh, look who's here!" said Tobe, as one who greets an unexpectedfriend.

  "Hello, Tobe! Here's your food, grub, chuck and provisions! Got youroutlaw yet? Them other fellows will be out along toward midnight." Hewent on without waiting for an answer: "Put me on your payroll. Pappysaid I was to go to work--and if you was going to quit work to hunt downhis friend you'd better quit for good. Lead on to your little old mine.I don't know where it is, even."

  "I'll go up and unpack, Rex," said Tobe; "but, of course, I'm not goingto lose my part of that five thousand. Pappy's foolish. He's gettin'old. I'll be back after a while and bring down the papers."

  Chatting of the trapped outlaw, the Ophir men climbed the zigzag to themine. To Griffith, their voices dwindled to an indistinct murmur; alight glowed through the tent on the dump.

  The stranger pressed into Jeff's hand something small and hard--thelittle eohippus. "Here's your little old token. Pappy caught on at onceand he sent me along to represent. Let's get this pack off and get outof here. Do we have to go down the same trail again?"

  "Oh, no," said Jeff. "There's a wood-trail leads round the mountain tothe east. Who're you? I don't know you."

  "Charley Gibson. Pappy knows me. He sent the little stone horse to vouchfor me. I'm O. K. Time enough to explain when we've made a cleangetaway."

  "You're damn right there," Jeff said. "That boy down yonder is nobody'sfool. I'll light a candle in the tent and he'll think I'm reading thenewspapers. That'll hold him a while."

  "I'll be going on down the trail," said Gibson. "This way, isn't it?"

  "Yes, that's the one. All right. Go slow and don't make any more noisethan you can help."

  Jeff would have liked his own proper clothing and effects, but there wasno time for resuscitation. Lighting the candle, he acquired "Alice inWonderland" and thrust it into the bosom of his shirt. It had been yearssince last he read that admirable work; his way now led either to hidingor to jail--and, with Alice to share his fate, he felt equal to eitherfortune. He left the candle burning: the tent shone with a mellow glow.

  "If he didn't hear our horses coming down we're a little bit of allright," said Jeff, as he rejoined his rescuer on the level. "Even if hedoes, he may think we've gone to hobble 'em--only he'd think we ought towater 'em first. Now for the way of the transgressor, to Old Mexico.This little desert'll be one busy place to-morrow!"

  They circled Double Mountain, making a wide detour to avoid rough going,and riding at a hard gallop until, behind and to their right, a redspark of fire came into view from behind a hitherto interveningshoulder, marking where Stone and Harlow held the southward pass.

  Jeff drew rein and bore off obliquely toward the road at an easy trot.

  "They're there yet. So that's all right!" he said. "They've just put onfresh wood. I saw it flame up just then." He was in high feather. Hebegan to laugh, or, more accurately, he resumed his laughter, for hehad been too mirthful for much speech. "That poor devil Griffith willwait and fidget and stew! He'll think I'm in the tent, reading thenewspapers--reading about the Arcadian bank robbery, likely. He'll waita while, then he'll yell at me. Then he'll think we've gone to hobblethe horses. He won't want to leave the gap unguarded. He won't know whatto think. Finally he'll go up to the mine and see that pack piled offany which way, and no saddles. Then he'll know, but he won't know whatto do. He'll think we're for Old Mexico, but he won't know it for sure.And it's too dark to track us. Oh, my stars, but I bet he'll be mad!"

  * * * * *

  Which shows that we all make mistakes. Mr. Griffith, though young, wasof firm character, as has been lightly intimated. He waited a reasonabletime to allow for paper-reading, then he waited a little longer andshouted; but when there was no answer he knew at once precisely what hadhappened: he had not been a fool at all, whatever Steele and Bransfordhad assured him, and he was a bigger fool to have allowed himself to bepersuaded that he had been. It is true that he didn't know what was bestto do, but he knew exactly what he was going to do--and did it promptly.Seriously annoyed, he spurred through Double Mountain, gathered up Stoneand Harlow, and followed the southward road. Bransford had been on theway to Old Mexico--he was on that road still; Griffith put everything onthe one bold cast. While the others saddled he threw fresh fuel on thefire, with a rankling memory of the candle in the deserted tent andHannibal at Saint Jo. For the first time Griffith had the better of thelong battle of wits. That armful of fuel slowed Jeff from gallop totrot, turned assured victory into a doubtful contest; when the fugitivesregained the El Paso road Griffith's vindictive little band was not fivemiles behind them.

  The night was lightly clouded--not so dark but that the pursuersnoticed--or thought they noticed--the fresh tracks in the road when theycame to them. They stopped, struck matches and confirmed their hopes:two shod horses going south at a smart gait; the dirt was torn up toomuch for travelers on their lawful occasions. From that moment Griffithurged the chase unmercifully; the fleeing couple, in fancied security,lost ground with every mile.

  * * * * *

  "How on earth did you manage it? Didn't they know you?" demanded Gibsonas the pace slackened.

  "It wasn't me! It was Tobe Long! 'You may not have lived much under thesea, and perhaps you were never even introduced to a lobster,'" quotedJeff. Rocking in the saddle, he gave a mirthful resume of his littleevanishment. "And, oh, just think of that candle burning away in thatquiet, empty tent! If I could have seen Griffith's face!" he gloated."Oh me! Oh my!... And he was so sure!... Say, Gibson, how do you come inthis galley?" As a lone prospector his speech had been fittingly coarse;now, with every mile, he shook off the debasing influence of Mr. Long."Kettle-washing makes black hands. Aren't you afraid you'll get intotrouble?"

  "Nobody knows I'm kettle-washing, except Pappy Sanders and you," saidGibson. "I was careful not to let your friend see me at the fire."

  "I'll do you a good turn sometime," said Jeff. He rode on in silence fora while and presently was lost in his own thoughts, leaning over withhis hands folded on his horse's neck. In a low and thoughtful voice hehalf repeated, half chanted to himself:

  "Illilleo Legardi, in the garden there alone, There came to me no murmur of the fountain's undertone So mystically, magically mellow as your own!"

  Another silence. Then Jeff roused himself, with a start.

  "I'll tell you what, Gibson, you'd better cut loose from me. So far as Ican see, you are only a kid. You don't want to get mixed up in a murderscrape. This would go pretty hard with you if they can prove it on you.Of course, I'm awfully obliged to you and all that; but you'd betterquit me while the quitting's good."

  "Oh, no; I'll see you through," said Gibson lightly. "Besides, I knowyou had nothing to do with the murder."

  "Oh, the hell you do!" said Jeff. "That's kind of you, I'm sure. Seehere, who'd sold you your chips, anyway? How'd you get in this game?"

  "I got in this game, as you put it, because I jolly well wanted to,"replied Charley, with becoming spirit. "That ought to be reason enoughfor anything in this country. Nothing against it in the rules--and Idon't use the rules, anyhow. If you must have it all spelled out foryou--I knew, or at least I'd heard, that your friends were away fromRainbow; so I judged you wouldn't go up there. Then I knew those fouramateur Sherlocks--they're in my set in Arcadia. When two of thedeerhun
ters, after starting at two A.M., came back to Arcadia the samemorning they left, looking all wise and important, and slipped off onthe train to Escondido, saying nothing to any one--and when the othertwo didn't come home at all--I began to think; went down to the depot,found they had gone to Escondido, and I came on the next train. I foundout Pappy was your friend; and when he got your little hurry-up call Ivolunteered my services, seeing Pappy was too old and not footlooseanyhow--with a wife and property. That's the how of it."

  "Oh, yes, that's all right; but what makes you think I'm innocent?"

  "I know Mr. White, you see. And Mr. White seems to think that at aboutthe time the bank was robbed you were--in a garden!" Charley's voice wasedged with faint mockery.

  "Huh!" said Jeff, startled. "Who in hell is Mr. White?"

  "Mr. White--in hell--is the devil!" said Charley.

  At this unexpected disclosure Jeff lashed his horse to a gallop--hisspurs, you remember, being certain feet under the Ophir dump--and stroveto bring his thoughts to bear upon this new situation. He slowed downand Charley drew up beside him.

  "You seem to have stayed quite a while--in a garden," suggested Charley.

  "That tongue of yours is going to get you into trouble yet," said Jeff."You'll never live to be grayheaded."

  Charley was not to be daunted.

  "Say, Jeff, she's pretty easy to get acquainted with, what? And thoseeyes of hers--a little on the see-you-later style, aren't they?"

  Jeff turned in his saddle.

  "Now you look here, Mr. Charley Gibson! I'm under obligations to you,and so on--but I've heard all of that kind of talk that's good--_sabe_?"

  "Oh, I know her," persisted Charley. "Know her by heart--know her like abook. She made a fool of me, too. She drives 'em single, double, tandem,random and four abreast!"

  "You little beast!" Jeff launched his horse at the traducer, but Gibsonspurred aside.

  "Stop now, Jeffy! Easy does it! I've got a gun!"

  "Shut your damn head then! Gun or no gun, don't you take that girl'sname in your mouth again, or----Hark! What's that?"

  It was a clatter far behind--a ringing of swift hoofs on hard ground.

  "By George, they're coming! Griffith will be a man yet!" said Jeffapprovingly. "Come on, kid; we've got to burn the breeze! I suppose thattalk of yours is only your damn fool idea of fun, but I don't like it.Cut it out, now, and ride like a drunk Indian!" He laughed loud andlong. "Think o' that candle, will you?--burning away with a clear,bright, steady flame, and nobody within ten miles of it!"

  They raced side by side; but Gibson, heedless of their periloussituation, or perhaps taking advantage of it, took a malicious delightin goading Jeff to madness; and he refused either to be silent or totalk about candles, notwithstanding Jeff's preference for that topic.

  "I'm not joking! I'm telling you for your own good." Here the tormentorprudently fell back half a length and raised his voice so as to be heardabove the flying feet. "Hasn't she gone back to New York, I'd like toknow, and left you to get out of it the best way you can? She could 'a'stayed if she'd wanted to. Don't tell me! Haven't I seen how she bossesher mother round? No, sir! She's willing to let you hang to save herselfa little slander--or, more likely, a little talk!"

  Jeff whirled his horse to his haunches, but once more Gibson was tooquick for him. Gibson's horse was naturally the nimbler of the two, evenwithout the advantage of spurs.

  "That's a lie! She was going to tell--she was bound to tell; I made herkeep silent. After I jumped out she couldn't well say anything. That'swhy I jumped. Was I going to make her a target for such vile tongues asyours--for me? Oh! You ought to be shot out of a red-hot cannon, througha barbed-wire fence, into hell! You lie, you coward, you know you lie!I'll cram it down your throat if you'll get off and throw that gundown!"

  "Yah! It's likely I'll put the gun down!" scoffed Gibson. "Ride on, youfool! Do you want to hang? Ride on and keep ahead! Remember, I've gotthe gun!"

  "Hanging's not so bad," snarled Jeff. "I'd rather be hung decently thanbe such a thing as you! Oh, if I just had a gun!"

  The sound of pursuit was clearer now; and, of course, the pursuers couldhear the pursued as well and fought for every inch.

  Jeff rode on, furious at his helplessness. For several miles histormentor raced behind in silence, fearing, if he persisted longer inhis evil course, that Jeff would actually stop and give himself up. Theygained now on their pursuers, who had pressed their horses overhard tomake up the five-mile handicap.

  As they came to a patch of sandy ground they eased the pace somewhat.Charley drew a little closer to Jeff.

  "Now don't get mad. I had no idea you thought so much of the girl----"

  "Shut up, will you?"

  "----or I wouldn't have deviled you so. I'll quit. How was I to knowyou'd stop to fight for her with the very rope round your neck? It's apity she'll never know about it.... You can't have seen her more thantwo or three times--and Heaven only knows where that was! On thatcamping trip, I reckon. What kind of a girl is she, anyhow, to holdclandestine interviews with a stranger?... She'll write to you by andby--a little scented note, with a little stilted, meaningless word ofthanks. No, she won't. It'll be gushy: 'Oh, my hero! How can I everrepay you?' She won't let you out of her clutches--anybody, so long asit's a man! Here! None o' that!... Go on, now, if you want to live!"

  "_Who the hell wants to live?_"

  A noose flew back from the darkness. Jeff's horse darted aside andGibson was jerked sprawling to the sand at a rope's end--hat flew oneway, gun another. Jeff ran to the six-shooter.

  "Who's got the gun now?" he jeered, as he loosened the rope. "I onlywish we had two of 'em!"

  "You harebrained idiot!" Charley grabbed up his hat and spit sand fromhis mouth. "Get your horse and ride, you unthinkable donkey!"

  "Pleasure first, business afterward!" Jeff unbuckled Gibson's gunbeltand transferred it to his own waist, jerking Gibson to his feet in theviolent process. "Now, you little blackguard, you either take back allthat or you'll get the lickin' o' your life! You're too small; but allthe same----"

  "Oh, I'll take it back, you big bully--all I said and a lot more I onlythought!" said Charley spitefully. He was almost crying with rage as helimped to his horse. "She's an angel on earth! Sure she is! Ride, youmaniac--ride! Oh, you ought to be hung! I hope you do hang--youmiserable ruffian!"

  The following hoofs no longer rang sharply; they took on a muffledbeat--they were in the sand's edge not a mile behind.

  "Ride ahead, you! I've got the gun, remember!" observed Jeffsignificantly; "but if you slur that girl again I'll not shoot you--I'llnaturally wear you out with this belt."