X
ON THE TRAIL
Grant and Breckenridge sat together over their evening meal. Outside thefrost was almost arctic, but there was wood in plenty round Fremont ranch,and the great stove diffused a stuffy heat. The two men had made the roundof the small homesteads that were springing up, with difficulty, for thesnow was too loose and powdery to bear a sleigh, and now they were contentto lounge in the tranquil enjoyment of the rest and warmth that followedexposure to the stinging frost.
At last Breckenridge pushed his plate aside, and took out his pipe.
"You must have put a good many dollars into your ploughing, Larry, and thefew I had have gone in the same way," he said. "You see, it's a long whileuntil harvest comes round, and a good many unexpected things seem tohappen in this country. To be quite straight, is there much probability ofour getting any of those dollars back?"
Grant smiled. "I think there is, though I can't be sure. The legislaturemust do something for us sooner or later, while the fact that thecattle-men and the Sheriff have left us alone of late shows that theydon't feel too secure. Still, there may be trouble. A good many hard caseshave been coming in."
"The cattle-men would get them. It's dollars they're wanting, and theother men have a good many more than we have. By the way, shouldn't theman with the money you are waiting for turn up to-night?"
Grant nodded. A number of almost indigent men--small farmers ruined byfrost in Dakota, and axe-men from Michigan with growing families--hadsettled on the land in his neighbourhood, and as every hand and voicemight be wanted, levies had been made on the richer homesteaders, andsubscribed to here and there in the cities, for the purpose of enablingthem to continue the struggle.
"We want the dollars badly," he said. "The cattle-men have cut off ourcredit at the railroad stores, and there are two or three of theEnglishmen who have very little left to eat at the hollow. You have seenwhat we have sent out from Fremont, and Muller has been feeding quite afew of the Dutchmen."
He stopped abruptly, and Breckenridge drew back his chair. "Hallo!" hesaid. "You heard it, Larry?"
Grant had heard the windows jar, and a sound that resembled a faint tap."Yes," he said quietly. "I may have been mistaken, but it was quite like arifle shot."
They were at the door in another moment, shivering as the bitter cold metthem in the face; but there was now no sound from the prairie, whichrolled away before them white and silent under the moonlight. Then,Breckenridge flung the door to, and crossed over to the rack where aMarlin rifle and two Winchesters hung. He pressed back the magazine slideof one of them, and smiled somewhat grimly at Grant.
"Well," he said, "we can only hope you're wrong. Where did you put thebook I was reading?"
Grant, who told him, took out some accounts, and they lounged in big hidechairs beside the stove for at least half an hour, though it wassignificant that every now and then one of them would turn his head asthough listening, and become suddenly intent upon his task again when hefancied his companion noticed him. At last Breckenridge laughed.
"It's all right, Larry. There--is--somebody coming. It will be the manwith dollars, and I don't mind admitting that I'll be glad to see him."
Five minutes later the door opened and Muller came in. He looked round himinquiringly.
"Quilter is not come? I his horse in der stable have not seen," he said.
"No," said Grant sharply. "He would pass your place."
Muller nodded. "He come in und der supper take. Why is he not here? I, whoride by der hollow, one hour after him start make."
Breckenridge glanced at Grant, and both sat silent for a second or two.Then the former said, "I'm half afraid we'll have to do without thosedollars, Mr. Muller. Shall I go round and roll the boys up, Larry?"
Grant only nodded, and, while Breckenridge, dragging on his fur coat, madefor the stable, took down two of the rifles and handed one to Muller.
"So!" said the Teuton quietly. "We der trail pick up?"
In less than five minutes the two were riding across the prairie towardsMuller's homestead at the fastest pace attainable in the loose, dustysnow, while Breckenridge rode from shanty to shanty to call out the men ofthe little community which had grown up not far away. It was some timelater when he and those who followed him came up with his comrade andMuller. The moon still hung in the western sky and showed the blue-greysmear where horse-hoofs had scattered the snow. It led straight towards abirch bluff across the whitened prairie, and Breckenridge stooped in hissaddle and looked at it.
"Larry," he said sharply, "there were two of them."
"Yes," said Grant. "Only one left Muller's."
Breckenridge asked nothing further, but it was not the first time thatnight he felt a shiver run through him. He fell behind, but he heard oneof the rest answer a question Grant put to him.
"Yes," he said. "The last man was riding a good deal harder than the otherfellow."
Then there was silence, save for the soft trampling of hoofs, andBreckenridge fancied the others were gazing expectantly towards theshadowy blurr of the bluff, which rose a trifle clearer now against theskyline. He felt, with instinctive shrinking, that their search would berewarded there in the blackness beneath the trees. The pace grew faster.Men glanced at their neighbours now and then as well as ahead, andBreckenridge felt the silence grow oppressive as the bluff rose higher.The snow dulled the beat of hoofs, and the flitting figures that rode withhim passed on almost as noiselessly as the long black shadows thatfollowed them. His heart beat faster than usual when, as they reached thebirches, Grant raised his hand.
"Ride wide and behind me," he said. "We're going to find one of theminside of five minutes."
There was an occasional crackle as a rotten twig or branch snapped beneaththe hoofs. Slender trees slid athwart the moonlight, closed on oneanother, and opened out, and still, though the snow was scanty and inplaces swept away, Grant and a big Michigan bushman rode straight on.Breckenridge, who was young, felt the tension grow almost unendurable. Atlast, when even the horses seemed to feel their masters' uneasiness, theleader pulled up, and with a floundering of hoofs and jingle of bridlesthe line of shadowy figures came to a standstill.
"Get down, boys, and light the lantern. Quilter's here," he said.
Breckenridge dismounting, looped his bridle round a bough, and by and bystood peering over the shoulders of the clustering men in front of him.The moonlight shone in between the birches, and something dusky and rigidlay athwart it in the snow. One man was lighting a lantern, and though hishands were mittened he seemed singularly clumsy. At last, however, a palelight blinked out, and under it Breckenridge saw a white face and shadowyhead, from which the fur cap had fallen.
"Yes," said somebody, with a suspicion of hoarseness, "that's Quilter.It's not going to be much use; but you had better go through his pockets,Larry!"
Grant knelt down, and his face also showed colourless in the lantern lightas, with the help of another man, he gently moved the rigid form. Then,opening the big fur-coat he laid his hand on a brown smear on the deerskinjacket under it.
"One shot," he said. "Couldn't have been more than two or three yardsoff."
"Get through," said the bushman grimly. "The man who did it can't havemore than an hour's start of us, any way, and from the trail he left hishorse is played out."
In a minute or two Grant stood up with a little shiver. "You have got tobring out a sledge for him somehow, Muller," he said. "Boys, the man whoshot him has left nothing, and the instructions from our other executiveswould be worth more to the cattle-men than a good many dollars."
A WHITE FACE AND SHADOWY HEAD, FROM WHICHTHE FUR CAP HAD FALLEN.--Page 114.]
"Well," said the big bushman, "we're going to get that man if we have topull down Cedar Range or Clavering's place before we do it. Here's histrail. That one was made by Quilter's horse."
It scarcely seemed appropriate, and the whole scene was singularlyundramatic, and in a curious fashion almost unimpressive; butBreckenridge, who c
ame of a reticent stock, understood. Unlike theAmericans of the cities, these men were not addicted to improving theoccasion, and only a slight hardening of their grim faces suggested whatthey felt. They were almost as immobile in the faint moonlight as thatfrozen one with the lantern flickering beside it in the snow. YetBreckenridge long afterwards remembered them.
Two men went back with Muller and the rest swung themselves into thesaddle, and reckless of the risk to beast and man brushed through thebluff. Dry twigs crackled beneath them, rotten bough and withered bushwent down, and a murmur went up when they rode out into the snow again. Itsounded more ominous to Breckenridge than any clamorous shout. Then,bridles were shaken and heels went home as somebody found the trail, andthe line tailed out farther and farther as blood and weight began to tell.The men were riding so fiercely now, that a squadron of United Statescavalry would scarcely have turned them from the trail. Breckenridgelaughed harshly as he and Grant floundered down into a hollow, stirrup bystirrup and neck to neck.
"I should be very sorry for any of the cattle-boys we came upon to-night,"he said.
Grant only nodded, and just then a shout went up from the head of thestraggling line, and a man waved his hand.
"Heading for the river!" he said. "We'll find him in the timber. He can'tcross the ice."
The line divided, and Grant and Breckenridge rode on with the smallerportion, while the rest swung wide to the right. In front of them theCedar flowed through its birch-lined gully as yet but lightly bound withice, and Breckenridge guessed that the men who had left them purposedcutting off the fugitive from the bridge. It was long before the first dimbirches rose up against the sky, and the white wilderness was very stilland the frost intense when they floundered into the gloom of the bluff atthe hour that man's vitality sinks to its lowest. Every crackle of abrittle branch rang with horrible distinctness, and now and then a manturned in his saddle and glanced at his neighbour when from the shadowyhollow beneath them rose the sound of rending ice. The stream ran fastjust there, and there had been but a few days' frost.
They rode at a venture, looking about them with strained intentness, forthey had left the guiding trail behind them now. Suddenly a faint cry cameout of the silence followed by a beat of hoofs that grew louder everysecond, until it seemed to swell into a roar. Either there was clearerground in the bluff, or the rider took his chances blindly so long as hemade haste.
The men spread out at a low command, and Breckenridge smiled mirthlesslyas he remembered the restrained eagerness with which he had waited outsideEnglish covers when the quarry was a fox. He could feel his heart thumpingfuriously, and his mittened hands would tremble on the bridle. It seemedthat the fugitive kept them waiting a horribly long while.
Then, there was a shout close by him, Grant's horse shot forward and hesaw a shadowy object flash by amidst the trees. Hand and heel movedtogether, and the former grew steady again as he felt the spring of thebeast under him and the bitter draught upon his cheek. His horse hadrested, and the fugitive's was spent. Where he was going he scarcelynoticed, save that it was down hill, for the birches seemed flying up tohim, and the beast stumbled now and then. He was only sure that he wasclosing with the flying form in front of him.
The trees grew blurred together; he had to lean forward to evade thethrashing branches. His horse was blundering horribly, the slope grewsteeper still, the ground beneath the dusty snow and fallen leaves wasgranite hard; but he was scarcely a length away, a few paces more wouldbring him level, and his right hand was stretched out for a grip of thestranger's bridle.
A hoarse shout came ringing after him, and Breckenridge fancied it was awarning. The river was close in front and only thinly frozen yet, but hedrove his heels home again. If the fugitive could risk the passage of theice, he could risk it, too. There was another sound that jarred across thehammering of the hoofs, a crash, and Breckenridge was alone, strugglingwith his horse. They reeled, smashing through withered bushes and strikingslender trees, but at last he gained the mastery, and swung himself downfrom the saddle. Already several mounted men were clustered aboutsomething, while just before he joined them there was another crash, and alittle thin smoke drifted among the trees. Then, he saw one of them snap acartridge out of his rifle, and that a horse lay quivering at his feet. Aman stood beside it, and Grant was speaking to him, but Breckenridgescarcely recognized his voice.
"We want everything you took from Quilter, the papers first," he said."Light that lantern, Jake, and then the rest stand round. I want you tonotice what he gives me."
The man, saying nothing, handed him a crumpled packet, and Grant, tearingit open, passed the cover to the rest.
"You know that writing?" he said.
There was a murmur of assent, and Grant took a paper from those in hishand, and gave it to a man who held it up in the blinking light of thelantern. "Now," he said, "we want to make sure the dollars he took fromQuilter agree with it. Hand them over."
The prisoner took a wallet from his pocket and passed it across. "I guessthere's no use in me objecting. You'll find them there," he said.
"Count them," said Grant to the other man. "Two of you look over hisshoulder and tell me if he's right."
It took some little time, for the man passed the roll of bills to acomrade, who, after turning them over, replaced them in the wallet.
"Yes, that's right, boys; it's quite plain, even if we hadn't followed uphis trail. Those dollars and documents were handed Quilter."
Grant touched Breckenridge. "Get up and ride," he said. "They'll send ussix men from each of the two committees. We'll be waiting for them atBoston's when they get there. Now, there's just another thing. Look at themagazine of that fellow's rifle."
A man took up the rifle, and snapped out the cartridges into his hand."Usual 44 Winchester. One of them gone," he said. "He wouldn't havestarted out after Quilter without his magazine full."
The man rubbed the fringe of his deerskin jacket upon the muzzle, and thenheld it up by the lantern where the rest could see the smear of thefouling upon it.
"I guess that's convincing, but we'll bring the rifle along," he said.
Grant nodded and turned to the prisoner as a man led up a horse. "Get up,"he said. "You'll have a fair trial, but if you have any defence to makeyou had better think it over. You'll walk back to Hanson's, Jake."
The prisoner mounted, and they slowly rode away into the darkness which,now the moon had sunk, preceded the coming day.
It was two days later when Breckenridge, who had ridden a long way in themeanwhile, rejoined them at a lonely ranch within a day's journey of therailroad. Twelve men, whose bronzed faces showed very intent and graveunder the light of the big lamp, sat round the long bare room, and theprisoner at the foot of a table. Grant stood at the head of it, with aroll of dollar bills and a rifle in front of him.
"Now," he said, "you have heard the testimony. Have you anything to tellus?"
"Well," said the prisoner, "I guess it wouldn't be much use. Hadn't youbetter get through with it? I don't like a fuss."
Grant signed to the men, who silently filed out, and returned within aminute. "The thing's quite plain," said one of them. "He killed Quilter."
Grant turned to the prisoner. "There's nothing that would warrant ourshowing any mercy, but if you have anything to urge we'll listen now. It'syour last opportunity. You were heading for one of the cattle-men'shomesteads?"
The man smiled sardonically. "I'm not going to talk," he said. "I guess Ican see your faces, and that's enough for me."
Grant stood up and signed to a man, who led the prisoner away. Then, helooked at the others questioningly, and a Michigan axe-man nodded.
"Only one thing," he said. "It has to be done."
There was an approving murmur, and Grant glanced along the row of sternfaces. "Yes," he said, "the law will do nothing for us--the cattle-menhave bought it up; but this work must be stopped. Well, I guess you likewhat lies before us as little as I do, but if it warns off the others--andthe
re are more of his kind coming in--it's the most merciful thing."
Once more the low murmur ran through the silence of the room; Grant raisedhis hand and a man brought in the prisoner. He looked at the set faces,and made a little gesture of comprehension.
"I guess you needn't tell me," he said. "When is it to be?"
"To-morrow," said Grant, and it seemed to Breckenridge that his voice camefrom far away. "At the town--as soon as there is light enough to see by."
The prisoner turned without a word, and when he had gone the men, as ifprompted by one impulse, hastened out of the room, leaving Grant andBreckenridge alone. The former sat very still at the head of the table,until Breckenridge laid his hand on his shoulder.
"Shake it off, Larry. You couldn't have done anything else," he said.
"No," said Grant, with a groan. "Still, I could have wished this duty hadnot been laid on me."
When they next stood side by side the early daylight was creeping acrossthe little railroad town, and Breckenridge, whose young face was white,shivered with more than the bitter cold. He never wished to recall it, butthe details of that scene would return to him--the square frame housesunder the driving snow-cloud, the white waste they rose from, the grim,silent horsemen with the rifles across their saddles, and the intent facesbeyond them in the close-packed street. He saw the prisoner standingrigidly erect in a wagon drawn up beside a towering telegraph-pole, andheard a voice reading hoarsely.
A man raised his hand, somebody lashed the horses, the wagon lurched away,a dusky object cut against the sky, and Breckenridge turned his eyes away.A sound that might have been a groan or murmur broke from the crowd andthe momentary silence that followed it was rent by the crackle of riflery.After that, Breckenridge only recollected riding across the prairie amidsta group of silent men, and feeling very cold.
In the meanwhile the citizens were gazing at a board nailed to thetelegraph-pole: "For murder and robbery. Take warning! Anyone offending inthe same way will be treated similarly!"
The Cattle-Baron's Daughter Page 10