The Coyote

by James Roberts

  CHAPTER XXXIII

  FAST WORK

  Quickly and methodically Rathburn went about his work. His face wasdrawn and pale, but his eyes glittered with a deadly earnestness whichwas not lost upon the two men who obeyed his orders without question.The very boldness of his intrepid undertaking must have convinced themthat here was no common bandit. He herded them back toward the vaultat the point of his gun. Then he ordered them into the vault.

  "Now then," he said crisply, "you know what I'm after. Trot it out!"

  One of the men, evidently an assistant cashier or head teller, who wasin charge, opened a compartment of the inner safe and pulled out adrawer. Rathburn could see the packages of bills. He looked quicklyabout and saw a pile of empty coin sacks on a shelf.

  "Fill two of those large sacks," he instructed the other man.

  The clerk hastened to carry out his orders and jammed package afterpackage of bills into one of the largest of the coin sacks. Both menwere white-faced and frightened. They did not try to delay theproceedings. Rathburn looked dangerous; and what was more sinister, hewent about his nefarious business in a cool, calm, confident manner.He did not look like the Rathburn who had visited Laura Mallory thenight before, nor the Rathburn who had talked with the sheriff. Inthis critical moment he was in look, mood, and gesture The Coyote athis worst--worthy of all the terrible things that had been whisperedabout him.

  It may be that the bank employees suspected as much. It may be thatthey didn't believe it would be possible for the outlaw to make hisget-away in broad daylight, and it was certain that they stood inmighty fear of him. They cowered back, pale and shaking, as he calmlytook the sack, heavy with its weight of bank notes of healthydenomination, and stepped to the entrance to the big vault.

  "When they come an' let you out," said Rathburn, "you can tell themthat the gent who helped himself to the berries in the cash box isjust beginnin' to cash in on the reputation that's been wished onhim!"

  He smiled grimly, as he swung the light, inner door of the vault shutand clamped down the lever. He slid his gun into its holster and,carrying the sack of loot, walked out of the door of the second cagetoward the main entrance of the bank. As he reached the door, a mancame up the steps. Rathburn recognized Doane, and his lips curled in asnarl. It was the first time Doane had come face to face with him, butthe man started back in surprise.

  "Rathburn!" he exclaimed.

  Rathburn hesitated. His first feeling of instinctive animosity fled.He scowled in a swift effort to place the man, and the thought that inan indirect way Doane was partly responsible for what had come to passflashed through his tortured brain. This brought swift comprehensionof his immediate danger. Now that he had taken the decisive step hewould have to call upon all his resources of courage and cunning toprotect his liberty. The die had been cast!

  He hurried past Doane, swung into the saddle, and rode at a swiftpace around the corner, leaving Doane standing on the steps of thebank, staring after him with an expression of amazement on his face.

  Rathburn knew it would be but a matter of a very few minutes beforethe knowledge that the State Bank of Hope had been held up androbbed--would be common property in the town. The very boldness of therobbery had insured its success, for none would dream that a lonebandit would have the nerve to come into town in broad daylight, holdup the bank, and attempt to run for it across the open, burning spacesof the desert. But he was not aware of the coincidence which wouldmake the news of the robbery known sooner than he expected.

  At the end of the side street he struck boldly across the desert,driving in his spurs and urging the gallant dun to its top speed. In amatter of minutes he was out of view of the town--a speck bobbing amidthe clumps of mesquite, palo verde, and cactus. He raced for themountains in the northwest.

  There was another element of uncertainty which entered into theprobability of quick pursuit, as he had shrewdly divined. It might besome time before the sheriff's predicament was discovered. Meanwhilemost of the male population was scouring the vicinity of ImaginationRange looking for him, and there would be no one to lead a secondposse until the sheriff was liberated. There was nothing in sightbehind him toward town except the vista of dry desert vegetationswimming in the heat. Rathburn rode on with a feeling of security, sofar as trouble from that quarter was concerned.

  His thoughts were in a turmoil, and he passed a shaking hand over hisdamp brow. The resentment had given way to grim decision anddetermination. Well, he had shown them what The Coyote could do. Theywould remember that job; they could lay that at his door. The proceedswould carry him a long way. They had given him his reputation, and hewould make the game worth the candle!

  The old fierce defiance of misguided youth was in his veins. He felt awild exultation seize him. Doubt and all problems were set aside. Hiseyes glowed with a reckless light, as he raced on toward the bluehills.

  Doane had known him--had called him by name. Therefore Doane knew hewas The Coyote--the outlaw with a price on his head. So much thebetter. He _wanted_ them to know!

  The sun was at its zenith, as he passed above the Mallory place. Hedid not once turn his head and look down upon it. His jaw was squared,his lips pressed tight, as he guided his horse into the windingfoothills of the range. In a narrow canyon he dismounted and undid hisslicker pack. When he again tied it behind the saddle it contained thebag which held the bank notes he had taken that morning. He pushed onin the early afternoon.

  He now rode with more caution. The fact that he had not seen anymembers of the posses which were scouring the hills, he accredited toignorance on their part of the fact that he had been at the Malloryranch the night before and had gone into town. These things they hadhardly had time to learn. More than likely they had assumed that hehad crossed the mountains, and it was possible that most of the men onthe hunt were on the east side of the range. He became more and moreconvinced of this as the afternoon wore on, but he did not relax hisvigilance. His face had clouded.

  "We made a mistake, hoss," he muttered, "in not remembering to hunt upMike Eagen first thing."

  In the quick moves following his sudden momentous decision, he hadforgotten Eagen. This fact now bothered him. He had a score to settlewith Eagen on general principles. This did not mean that henecessarily would have to shoot Eagen down; but he wanted Eagen tohear straight out what he thought of him. It might be a long timebefore he could gratify that desire after the events of this day.

  Slowly he proceeded, not once venturing upon a high spot until he hadinvestigated by crawling to a vantage point on his hands and knees. Itwas sundown when he saw the first riders. Two were farther down theslopes to westward, and several more were far to eastward. It was truethen that Long had thrown a cordon about the section of the mountainswhich he had been seen to enter the day before.

  However, Rathburn's knowledge of the range and the secrets of themountain trails gave him a distinct advantage over the inexperiencedmembers of the posses. True, there were deputies and some others whowere experienced; but they were in the minority.

  Rathburn realized that the sheriff must have been released some hoursbefore, and that his escapade of the morning would stimulate the manhunt. The rewards would be increased, and every able-bodied man inHope would doubtless join in the scramble for the reward money. He wassatisfied that Sheriff Long's order would be to "shoot on sight!"

  On the very crest of the range he paused in the shelter of the rocks.There still was a fair chance for him to get away clean to eastward.The sheriff had not had time to get more men over there, and by makinga break into the southeast and then cutting straight to the east,there was a strong possibility that he would succeed in circlingaround the posse and effect his escape.

  But something was drawing him to Joe Price! He did not quiteunderstand that it was the desire to confide in and confess to hisfriend what had actuated his choice of moral trails. But the yearningwas there, and he was yielding to it. He conjectured shrewdly thatLong might not dream that he would have the temer
ity again to enterthe very district where he was being sought. It was his belief thatthe best place to hide from a posse was in the midst of it!

  It was this confidence, almost as much as his skill in trailing, whichenabled him to gain a point above Joe Price's cabin in the earlytwilight. He waited patiently until the curtain of night had fallen,and the stars had replaced the fading banners of the sunset, before heslipped down a steep slope and walked his horse into the canyon belowthe old miner's abode.