CHAPTER XXIV
PURSUIT
Fire flames darted occasionally from the high tulles, licking thedarkness like the tongues of venomous serpents. Rifles cracked, andbullets, fired at random, buzzed across the sand flats. Kid Wolf hadan uncomfortable few minutes ahead of him.
Whenever the moon peeped out of its flying blanket of cloud, he wasforced to lie flat and motionless on the ground. Lead often spattereduncomfortably close, but foot by foot he made his way toward Boot Hill.
This rise in ground, he believed, would be free from his enemies.After once reaching this, Dave Robbins and he would be on the road tosafety. Blizzard, well trained, would follow him if he managed toelude the bullets of the Garvey gang.
The Texan was on Boot Hill now, and for the first time in many minutes,he breathed freely. The firing behind had become faint, and it washardly likely that any watchers remained on the hill.
But Kid Wolf received a thrill of horror and surprise. The moondrifted free of its cloud curtain for a moment. He was standing not adozen feet from the two freshly made graves. One, with Bill Robbins'headboard over it, was covered with a mound of earth.
Standing near the other, with a cocked revolver in his hand, was thehalf-breed, Charley Hood! His cruel lips were parted in a terriblesmile as he slowly raised the weapon to a level with his eyes!
While Kid Wolf had been creeping toward Boot Hill, Dave Robbins was inthe adobe hut, counting the dragging minutes. The suspense, now thatthe time for action was at hand, was nerve-racking. Would the Texanmake it? Robbins strained his ears for the triumphant yells that wouldannounce The Kid's death or capture.
As the seconds grew to minutes, he began to breathe easier. When itseemed to him that a half hour had passed, he prepared to follow. Themoon, however, was now too bright, and he had to wait fully a quarterof an hour more before the light faded to shadow again. When themoment arrived, he squirmed through the doorway and across the sands onhis hands and knees.
Dave Robbins was frontier bred, and although his progress was slowerthan the Texan's had been, he crept along as silently as one of theredskins themselves. Not a mesquite twig snapped under his body; not apebble rattled. It seemed to take him hours to reach the hill whichKid Wolf had pointed out to him. As he did so, the moonlight againbecame so bright that it made the landscape nearly as white as day.For a time, he lay flat against the ground; then he wriggled on.
Where was he? Would he find his friend, the Texan? He waited a while,and then whistled, soft and low. There was no answer. He lookedaround him, trying to decide where he was and what to do. His eyesfell upon the two recently dug graves. Headboards stood at each ofthem. Both were covered. Near the mounds lay a spade. The earthclinging to it was moist.
With his heart in his throat, Dave Robbins again looked at the gravemarkers. One read: "Bill Robbins." It was the grave of his father!The other mound was marked "Kid Wolf"!
For a few minutes, Dave Robbins stood numbed. Something terrible hadhappened; just what, he did not know. It seemed the end. Could hisfriend, the gallant Texan, have met death? It didn't seem possible,and yet the evidence was before his eyes. Anger against Garvey and hishired killers suddenly overcame him. A hot wave seemed to sweep overhim. He turned about and faced, not the distant San Simon, but in thedirection of his enemies.
"I'll get some of 'em before I go, Kid!" he cried.
As if in answer, something came to his ears that brought a cry of joyto the youth. It was a stanza of a familiar song, sung in the soft,musical accents of the South:
"Oh, bury me not on the lone prairie-ee!"
Turning about, Dave Robbins saw Kid Wolf's face in the moonlight! Theshock of it left the youth weak for a moment. The two wrung hands, andRobbins blurted:
"I thought yuh were dead! What happened? Why this covered grave?"
"A half-breed lookout," the Texan explained in a whisper. "Ugly, butslow with a gun. He had the drop, so instead of reachin' fo' mahColts, I pretended to raise mah hands. Then I gave him this--mah holecahd, the thirteenth ace."
And Kid Wolf showed him the heavy bowie knife so carefully hidden inits sheath sewn to the inside of his shirt collar.
"With this through his throat, he fell right in the grave they'd dugfo' me. Then I saw the shovel, and I couldn't resist throwin' somedirt ovah him. Well, that's that. I hated to take his life, but I hadto do it to save mine. The thing to do now is to get out of this."
"How do yuh expect yore hoss to get to us?" breathed Robbins.
"Listen." The Texan smiled. "He knows this call."
He waited for a lull in the rifle-popping below, and then he gave thecoyote yell--a mournful cry that seemed to echo and reecho. The soundwas so perfect an imitation that Robbins could scarcely believe hisears. And it even fooled the Indians. It did not, however, deceivethe sagacious horse that waited patiently in the adobe. The Kidclutched his young companion's arm. Straining their eyes, they saw awhite something moving up an arroyo.
"That Blizzahd hoss is smahter than I am," chuckled the Texan. "Heknows who his enemies are, and he knows how to keep out of their sight.Watch him climb that dry wash."
They held their breath until Blizzard, moving so noiselessly that hishoofs seemed as cushioned as a cougar's, reached the top of the hill.Then Kid Wolf led him over it and down again into a gully a littledistance to the west of it. Ahead of them now was safety, if theycould make it. The Texan mounted and swung up Robbins behind thesaddle.
"Too bad we had to leave that twenty thousand, Kid," said Robbins.
The Kid's white teeth flashed in a smile.
"Really, Dave," he drawled, "do yo' think I'd let Garvey get away withthat? That express box was just a blind. Don't yo' know what I didwhile the rest of yo' were tippin' back the stagecoach? No? Well, Itransferred the twenty thousand to Blizzahd's saddlebags, so themoney"--he tapped the bulges on each side of the big saddle--"is rightheah!"
Kid Wolf, ever since he had taken charge of the express money, hadrealized his responsibility and trust. He would protect it with hislife. If he could reach Mexican Tanks with it, the money would besafe, for a small post of soldiers and government scouts guarded theplace.
They had not gone a half mile, however, when a sound of distantshouting broke out behind them.
"That means they've discovahed ouah absence," said the Texan, grimly."We'll have ouah hands full befo' long!"
Robbins, and the Texan as well, had been through the country before,and knew the lay of the land. The former had learned the location of awater hole west of them in the hills, and they decided to head forthat, as they were suffering from intense thirst. Blizzard, too, hadnot taken water for thirty-six hours.
The Apache is one of the best trailers in the world. They were under aterrible handicap, and both realized it. With the great white horse,strong as it was, carrying double, they could not hope to out-distancepursuit.
"Yuh'd better leave me, Kid," Robbins begged.
"Befo' I'd leave yo'," returned the Texan, "I'd leave _me_!"
Dawn began to glow pink and orange behind them, and gradually the dim,star-studded vault overhead became gray with the new day. Shortlyafterward, they reached the water hole. It was nearly dry, but enoughmoisture remained to refresh both horse and riders.
Then they went on again. Kid Wolf could, tell by Blizzard's actionsthat they were being followed. Before long he himself saw signs.Little dust clouds began to show behind them, scattered over a linemiles long.
"Garvey and his Apaches!" the Texan jerked out. "And they're gainin'fast."
"Can we beat 'em to Mexican Tanks?"
"No," The Kid drawled, "but we can fight!"
They soon saw the hopelessness of it all. The horizon behind themswarmed with moving dots--dots that grew larger and more distinct withevery fleeting minute. Garvey had obtained reenforcements, withoutdoubt, for there seemed to be no end to the pursuing Apaches.
Blizzard ran like the th
oroughbred he was. But even his iron musclescould not stand the strain for long. The ponies behind were fresh, andthe snow-white charger was tremendously handicapped with the addedweight which had been placed upon it.
Puffs of white smoke blossomed out behind them. A bullet, spent andfar short, dropped away to their left, sending up a geyser of sand.
"I guess we'll fight now," Kid Wolf said, drawing his six-guns.
The grim-faced fighter from Texas knew the ways of the Apaches and wasprepared for what followed. It was not his first encounter withrenegade red men of the Southwest. He was also aware of what awaitedthem if they were taken captive. Death with lead would be far moremerciful.
The line of Apache warriors spread out even farther. Blizzard wasspeeding over a flat table-land now, flanked by two ridges of iron-grayhills. A file of Indians separated from the main body and raced alongthe left-hand ridge. Another file of copper-brown, half-naked savagesdrummed along to the right.
Rifle fire crackled and flashed. Bullets now began to buzz and whinelike infuriated insects. Arrows, falling far short, whistled an angrytune. The Kid held his fire and bade Dave Robbins follow his example.It was no time to waste lead.
"Go, Blizzahd, like yo' nevah went befo'!" cried the Texan.
The beautiful white horse seemed to realize its master's danger. Itran on courage alone. Its nostrils were expanded wide, its flanks andneck foam-flecked. The steel muscles rippled under its snowy hide,until it seemed to fly like a winged thing. But it is one thing tocarry a hundred and sixty pounds; another thing to bear nearly threehundred. The pace could not last.
Kid Wolf pinned his hopes on reaching a deep arroyo ahead of them.Already the range was becoming deadly. A bullet ripped through theTexan's hat. Another burned his side. Directly behind them, Garveyand his gunmen--the two Arnolds, Henry Shank, and Stephenson--poundedfuriously, gaining at every jump. Their mounts were better than thoseof the Indians, and Kid Wolf saw that they must be stopped at all costs.
For the first time, his guns belched flame. The two Arnolds went down,unhorsed. Even in that desperate moment, Kid Wolf hesitated to killuntil it was necessary. The Arnolds, however, were out of the chasefor good and all. Stephenson also felt the crippling sting of theTexan's lead and toppled from his mount, drilled high in the shoulder.
Henry Shank and Gil Garvey, shaken at The Kid's marksmanship, drew intheir horses, unwilling to press closer. That gave Blizzard his chanceto make the shelter of the arroyo. Suddenly it yawned at their feet--aterrific jump. Would Blizzard take it? A reassuring pressure of aknee was all the inspiration the horse needed. They seemed to rushthrough the air. Then they were sliding down the bank in a cloud ofdust, Blizzard tense and stiff-legged. By a miracle, they reached thebottom unhurt, and without losing a second, Kid Wolf headed hisfaithful mount into a thick paloverde clump.
"We'll have to stand 'em off heah," he panted.
The Texan's eyes surveyed his exhausted horse. They seemed to lightwith an idea. Even in that desperate plight, his mind worked rapidly.
"I've got a hunch, Dave," he said. "It may not help us, but----"
He quickly loaded one of his .45s and stuck it down in one ofBlizzard's stirrups in such a way that it could not jolt out. Then hegave the horse a sharp pat on the neck.
"Go, Blizzahd," he urged, "until I call!"
The horse seemed to understand perfectly, for it wheeled and ran withall its speed down the arroyo. It was soon lost to sight among themesquites.
"He'll stay out of sight and within call," explained the Texan. "Wemay need him worse than we do now. Anyway, Garvey will have plentytrouble gettin' that express money."
They prepared to fight it out until the last, for already the Indianswere forcing their ponies down into the arroyo. A triumphant shoutwent up--a shout that became an elated, bloodthirsty war cry. TheApaches saw that the two white men were almost within their grasp.
"Good-by, Dave," said The Kid.
They grasped hands for a moment. There was no fear in their faces.Then they confronted the renegades. It was to be their last stand!
"Here's hopin' we get Garvey before we go!" said Robbins fiercely.
A storm of bullets tore through the paloverdes, sending twigs andleaves flying. Kid Wolf smiled coolly along the barrel of hisremaining gun, and he deliberately lined the sights.
The impact of the explosions kicked the heavy weapon about in his hand,but every shot brought grief to some savage. Robbins' gun also blazed.
A half dozen screaming Apaches rushed their position in the thicket.The charge failed, stopped by lead. Another came, almost in the samebreath. It faltered, then came on, reenforced. There were too many ofthem for two men to check.
Kid Wolf understood their guttural cries as they advanced.
"They mean to take us alive!" he cried. "Don't let 'em do it, son!It's better to die fightin'!"
But the Apaches seemed to have more than an ordinary reason for wantingto capture them. They came on, a coppery swarm, clubbing their guns.
There was no time to reload! The two young white men found themselvesfighting hand to hand in desperate battle. Kid Wolf smashed two of theIndians, sending them sprawling back into their companions with brokenheads. But still they came--dozens of them!
Robbins was down, then up again. He felt hands seize him. Kid Wolffelt the impact of a gun stock on his head. The world seemed to swaycrazily. Even while falling to the ground he still fought, his hardfists landing on the faces and chests of the red warriors in smashingblows. His feet were seized, then one arm. In vain he tried to tearhimself loose.
"Fine! Now throw some rope around 'em!" they heard Garvey say.
A shower of blows fell upon the Texan's head. He dropped, with a halfdozen red warriors clinging to him. It was the end!
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