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Bloom of Cactus

Page 18

by Robert Ames Bennet


  CHAPTER XVIII

  THE ATTACK

  The trader possibly may have been overcome with admiration for hisvictim's courage. More probably he was moved by the need to keep himalive for further torture. He signed one of the Navahos to use hiscanteen. Lennon had feigned unconsciousness in the hope of this result.

  He permitted a good quart of water to trickle down his parched throatbefore he showed signs of reviving. Even after he thought best to feignstupor no longer he made a show of great weakness. When jerked to hisfeet by the Indians, he tottered and crumpled down again. Slade swore,but ordered food and coffee brought.

  Lennon's tongue was still too swollen for him to eat much of the greasysolids. The strong coffee, however, both stimulated him and completedthe quenching of his thirst. The old Navaho held the spout of the bigtin coffee pot to his lips and poured until the last drop of muddy blackfluid drained from the grounds.

  The ponies were saddled, and Lennon was lifted upon his mount none toogently. He swayed in the saddle and clutched the horn. Slade made a signfor the prisoner's hands to be left unbound. During the ride up thecanon Lennon continued to feign weakness, lurching and swaying in thesaddle.

  Slade had taken the pinto pony of the youngest Navaho, who rode doublewith one of the other men. The five miles to the cliff break in thecanon bed, down which they had been lowered in the basket, was coveredat a lope.

  As the party came galloping to the under ledges Slade bellowed adeep-chested hail that boomed in loud reverberations upon the loftyprecipices of the canon sides. But no answering cry came down from thecliff, nor was there any sign of the hoist cage basket.

  The old Navaho raised a shrill quavering wail that carried like the howlof a coyote. Again the reverberating echoes ran up the precipices andslowly died out far above, and again no response came from the top ofthe cross barrier.

  "The lazy skunks!" growled Slade. "Off watch, huh? Keep me waiting, willthey? I'll tan their dirty hides for 'em."

  He rode down canon a few yards and emptied his revolver into the air,firing the shots in couples. This time the echoes had not died outskyward before a dark face with cloth-bound forehead peered down fromthe brink of the cross cliff. Slade roared up an angry command--andabruptly fell silent.

  The downlooker was making some quick gestures. Slade flung up his handin an answering gesture. The signaller disappeared. Slade shouted anorder to the best mounted of his men. The Navaho wheeled his pony andraced away down canon on the back trail.

  The basket cage of the lift swung out over the cliff brink. It began tolower. Regardless of hoof marks, Slade spurred his pony up the footledges. Lennon followed with the others.

  A glance at the trader's face had told him danger was toward.

  Lennon could think of but two explanations. Either a band of vengefulcattlemen had discovered and attacked the rustlers' secret stronghold,or Cochise had returned and taken advantage of Slade's absence to carryout his designs against Elsie.

  The man sent back by Slade evidently was riding to summon reinforcementsof Navahos from the pueblo. Whether they were to be used against theApaches or to aid them against an outside posse was the question. Ifthe first were the case, Lennon felt that he must be armed to fight.

  The thought of either Elsie or Carmena in the clutches of Cochise filledhim with dread and horror. The suspense of the uncertainty wasunbearable. He forced his pony up beside the trader's pinto while thebasket cage was yet several feet overhead.

  "See here, Slade," he said, "you've given me a rough deal. But we'reboth white men. We can't permit Cochise to have Farley's girls. That isunthinkable. I'll agree to forget the snake. Give me my rifle and we'llgo through with our bargain."

  "Like hell we will!" growled the trader. "Minute I turned my back you'dpot me."

  "No," pledged Lennon. "I give you my word."

  Slade continued to scowl with surly suspicion.

  "Guess we'll take a look first. Git a move on you. Pile in. No time tohoist the hosses."

  He swung from his saddle, with Lennon's rifle in one hand and his own inthe other. Both cartridge belts were buckled about his massive body. Hesprang into the wicker cage of the lift as it bumped upon the ledge.Lennon and the three Navahos crowded in after him.

  The Indian above peered over the cliff brink. At a signal from theNavaho he again vanished. The hoist rope tautened. With a creak, thecage scraped on the ledge and began to swing up the cliff face abovethe abandoned horses.

  To Lennon the ascent seemed maddeningly slow. The Navahos leaned againstthe wicker sides of the cage in stolid silence, their faces more thanever like bronze images. None cast a glance upward. But Slade could nothide his mingled uneasiness and anger.

  "Didn't think the young devil had the gall," he muttered. "Acting likehe'd been bit by a hydrophoby skunk. Nothing meaner 'n a mad wolf. I'd'a' give him Carmena quick enough.... Learn her not to pass up a whiteman agin when she had her chance. But the young gal---- Blast Cochise.When I told him flat----"

  The cage crept up over the brink of the cliff. One of the Navahos leapedhigh to grasp the guy rope of the crane. His pull swung crane and cagearound toward the horse windlass. The moment the occupants jumped fromthe cage the Navaho allowed the crane to swing out again over the cliffedge. The pony that was hitched to the bar of the windlass started tolower the cage by reversing at a jog trot.

  Though the Indian with the pony wore an Apache head cloth, Lennonrecognized his ugly young face at the first clear view. He was Pete, theNavaho who had been with the Apaches under the cliff house on the daythat Cochise had trapped Lennon and Carmena. Slade's manner toward himwas that of a half-distrustful master. He questioned him hastily inEnglish.

  Pete answered haltingly, with frequent lapses into the gutturals andhissings of his native tongue. His eyes glittered with fierceexcitement. Lennon gathered that Cochise and his men were in the midstof an attack on the cliff house. This would seem to prove that the girlswere still safe--and would remain safe. How could the Apaches hope toscale the sheer cliff without aid from above?

  But Slade's scowl showed that the situation by no means pleased him. Hemounted Pete's pony and rushed the party up to the head of the canon.Instead of preparing to hold this position until the arrival of hisreinforcements, he kept on up the valley at a jog trot. Once clear ofthe canon, Lennon could make out the sound of distant shots echoing downthe valley along the cliffs.

  Within the first half mile the rescuers came upon a drove of bigAmerican horses. Every one showed signs of cruel driving over rocks andthrough thornscrub and cactus. When they scented the Navahos theysnorted with terror, and all but two managed to bolt clear.

  In a trice the Indians had each of the frightened pair bridled with aleather thong fast about the lower jaw. Pete mounted the better animal.Slade drew rein beside the other horse and glowered at Lennon.

  "How about it?" he demanded. "You said you'd back me up. How do I know Ican count on you not knifing me?"

  "You have my word," replied Lennon, striving hard to repress hiseagerness.

  The irregular firing up the valley became more rapid. Slade scowled andthrust out Lennon's high-power rifle.

  "It's a go--that new deal. Take your belt, too. Guess I can count on youtill Cochise is made a good Indian."

  With the white men and Pete mounted and the unmounted Navahos eachgripping the mane of a horse, the party rushed up the valley atredoubled speed. Midway Slade angled down into the bed of an arroyo thatcurved around on the right of the corral and up to the mouth of HellCanon. Though the horses were kept at a fast trot, the Navahos ran alongbeside them, seemingly without effort.

  As the head of the valley was neared, the irregular crackling roar ofthe rifle shots abruptly ceased. Lennon's heart skipped a beat. Thesudden hush might mean that Cochise had given up his attack on thecliff house. On the other hand, it might be due to an overwhelming ofthe defense.

  Slade sent one of his men springing up the side of the arroyo. TheNavaho glanced over the edge of the
bank toward the cliff house anddashed obliquely back into the dry channel, his hand twisting in swiftsigns. Slade held on up the arroyo. Near the mouth of Hell Canon heflung himself off and motioned Lennon to follow.

  The old Navaho led the way up the side of the reservoir, with Pete aclose second. Near the top the leaders flattened down to crawl over theround of the ancient dam. The others crept after them. A mutteredcommand from Slade had kept Lennon in the rear. But a sudden freshoutburst of shots cut short his frightful suspense. The Apaches hadneither abandoned their attack nor had they yet captured the cliffhouse.

  Elation, mingled with renewed fear for the girls, sent Lennon scramblingup beside the leaders. He came to where they were peering over the crestof the dam. Slade growled a command for the fool tenderfoot to get downout of sight. But after Lennon's first look across the top of theembankment main force would have been required to drag him back.

  He had already guessed that Pete had stolen away down into the lowercanon, unknown to the Apaches. The only other explanation was that theNavaho had been posted as guard at the cross cliff. This was improbable,as the only need for watchers was to help in-comers up the otherwiseimpassable barrier. That Pete had not been missed was evident from thefailure of the Apaches to oppose the rush of the rescuers up the valley.

  The mystery of how Cochise hoped to take the cliff house became clear toLennon at the first glance. The ancient stronghold was less than half amile away from the reservoir. In the crystal-clear air Lennon made out acrooked line of poles and what appeared to be three or four sacks ofcorn lying upon the cliff foot. Above these objects eight or nineApaches were raising a long ladder of spliced poles against the face ofthe rock wall. The fallen poles were the shattered remains of a firstladder that had collapsed.

  The ladder raisers were protected in their work by the incessantshooting of the other members of the band. From a crescent of positionswell out in the valley the riflemen poured a cross-fire of bullets intoall the openings of the cliff house. The Indian at the nearest end ofthe crescent lay not more than a hundred yards beyond the far side ofthe reservoir.

  Even as Lennon grasped the plan of attack, the heavy-butted ladder cameto an upright position directly under the main doorway of the cliffhouse. On the instant a pair of nimble Apaches scrambled to the top,dragging with them a shorter ladder. They hoisted it above them andspliced its foot to the head of the main one.

  No less swiftly, another ladder was passed up and lashed to the top ofthe second. The new top reached within two yards of the brink of theforty-foot cliff. A third Apache started to carry up a short ladder.After he passed the middle of the ascent, his weight, added to that ofthe men above, made the much-spliced main ladder bow and sway.

  One of the upper men crawled through the rungs to wedge himself betweenthe top and the cliff. The third man handed up the short ladder andbegan to creep down again. The second topman gingerly hoisted the lastlink in the shaky line of ascent.

  The Apaches lying out from the cliff concentrated their fire on theopening above the ladder. For any one in the cliff house to haveventured into the doorway would have meant certain death.

  Protected by the storm of bullets, the topmost Apache held up the lastladder while his mate against the cliff spliced it fast. The top rungstood level with the sill of the doorway.

  The third man had stopped his descent ten or fifteen feet below. As soonas the splicing was secure, the first man drew something from the beltof his breech-clout and started up the last rungs.

  Lennon could restrain himself no longer. He thrust his rifle forward totake aim. From beside him a big hairy red hand reached out to clutch thebarrel. Slade's deep voice growled a command:

  "Wait! If they ain't got Carmena a'ready----"

  "But if once he gets in!" cried Lennon. "He must have a revolver!"

  "Knife too," added Slade. "Wait, though. We'll all put our sights onhim. But don't shoot unless he gits half through the door."

  A glance at the Navahos showed Lennon that they were already taking aim.The trader clearly had some good reason for waiting. Lennon nodded.

  "Very well," he agreed.

  Slade drew back his hand. As Lennon again took aim he saw the first ofthe Apache attackers thrust up an arm to grasp the corner of the sillstone. The man paused while the riflemen poured an extra violent volleyof bullets into the doorway. He then made a quick gesture.

  The shots continued, but they were aimed high. Otherwise the attackermust have been struck as he flung himself up before the opening. Thecatlike movement brought him head and shoulders above the sill. Hetwisted forward to writhe into the doorway. Lennon's finger started tocrook against the trigger of his rifle. But he did not fire.

  Instead of thrusting forward, the Apache straightened upright withconvulsive suddenness. His out-clutching arms beat the empty air. Hetoppled sideways and plunged headlong.

  "Through the brain!" chuckled Slade. "No, they ain't got Carmena--yet."

 

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