CHAPTER XXVII
UNDER THE DRIPPING TREES
Vaguely Hiram Hooker sensed a diabolical plot as he pounded on throughthe rain, tireless, determined, remorseless, on the trail of theabductors of Jerkline Jo.
The doping of his four fellow skinners at Ragtown had a part in theplan. It had been done deliberately to force the girl and Hiram intothe wilderness alone. Some one had known of Huber's shortage of hay,and had schemed accordingly, aware of Jerkline Jo's eternal willingnessto do her best by her patrons, regardless of the strain upon herself.The plotters had not been able to get at Hiram. Perhaps they had nottried. Jerkline Jo would hardly essay a trip to Julia and back alone.Too many difficulties might arise on the road that a lone skinner--evena man skinner--could not cope with. So they perhaps had not molestedHiram, hoping, if he were on his feet, that the girl would attempt thetrip with him. They had waited at the first U curve, and the moment hewas out of sight had pounced upon her. Suppose he had not chanced tolook back? The many curves ahead would have hidden her from him fornearly an hour after that first one had been passed. That would havegiven them a start, the disadvantage of which he could not haveovercome. As it was, though, he knew that he was hot on their trail,and burdened as they were, was gaining on them at every leap. WasDrummond back of this? Hiram could think of no one else who would beeven remotely at enmity with the lovable Jerkline Jo.
He brought up suddenly and squatted behind a bush of southernmanzanita. Just ahead, in an open portion of the forest, was a groupof three men, standing in a circle about a stiff, immovable figure onthe ground. Three saddled horses stood close by, their tails turnedtoward the rain, their heads lowered disconsolately.
The men had just stopped and laid down their burden, which was nothingelse than the tightly bound body of Jerkline Jo. All three men woremasks over their faces and new bright-blue overalls to further aid inhiding their identities. Hiram saw the rope about the girl, running ina spiral from her shoulders to her ankles. He saw the cloth over herface, knotted behind her head.
What should he do? There were three men standing about the girl,rubbing their arms, which probably ached from the strain of carryingher. Beyond a doubt they were armed. He tried to think, to plan; butin the midst of it all half-formulated schemes deserted him because ofthe sudden action of one of them.
He had taken something from his pocket, and now he and another stoopedover the prostrate figure of the girl. One man grasped her head inboth hands; the next instant Hiram realized with horror that a bladewas gleaming dully through the rain in the right hand of the other man.The third stooped and squatted on Jo's ankles.
Hiram Hooker had at least one more accomplishment than has beenmentioned. As a boy he had used it to terrify his elders on darknights in the forest. He could imitate the piercing, blood-chillingscream of the prowling panther until women in lonely forest cabinsclutched their breasts in fear, and men's faces blanched. Sprintingfrom his place of concealment like a football player, crouching low ashe ran, he bore down upon the three men, and had almost reached thembefore he loosed that terrorizing cry. Before it had died out in thelonely, dripping wilderness, he was flailing right and left with a hugepine knot in either hand, amazing and invincible as Sampson with hisjawbone of an ass.
With yells of terror, the trio rocked back on their haunches andstruggled frantically to gain their feet. There was a sickening crack,and the man who had held Jo's head pitched backward, a victim of one ofHiram's warclubs. Swinging about, he aimed a blow with his left-handclub, but its intended target ducked, and the club descended on theman's shoulder, wringing a cry of pain from lips that whitened suddenly.
The third man was up now, and sprang upon Hiram's back. The othercharged him from in front. Hiram hurled his left-hand club straightinto this man's face, and with his free hand reached down and graspedthe left leg of the man who had climbed him in the rear. Carrying thisman, who all the time was raining blows on his head, Hiram ran with allhis might for a close-by pine. As he neared it he whirled about andthrew himself at it backward with every atom of his force.
There followed a terrible impact, and in his ear exploded the breath ofthe man on his back, as he came in violent contact with the trunk ofthe tree. The shock pitched Hiram forward on his face, and the man whohad climbed upon him fell limply to the earth, the wind entirelycrushed out of him.
Hiram bounded to his feet and confronted the man into whose face he hadthrown the pine knot, and who now was rushing him, brandishing arevolver. Hiram's blow had knocked the mask from this man's face, butit was a face that Hiram had never seen before.
A shot barked dully in the heavy atmosphere of the forest, and thesmoke hung in a little ball. Hiram felt the impact of the bullet, andwas whirled half around with the force of it. He knew he had been hitsome place--in the breast or shoulder perhaps--but as yet felt not theslightest pain. Fire flashed in his very face, now, and this time hesmelled the acrid powder; but he had been in motion when the triggerwas pressed and the bullet whined away fretfully through the trees. Onthe heels of the second report came that sickening crack once more, andthe face of the man that glared through the smoke at Hiram went redwith a smear of blood.
He sank to his knees, and Hiram spun about just in time to aim anothercrashing blow at the skull of the man whom he had catapulted into thetree. His mask still held in place, but his hat was off and Hiram sawthat his hair was brown and wavy. There had not been time to aim, andthe blow fell on his assailant's neck.
They clinched, went down together, rolling over and over, clawing ateach other like fighting lynxes.
"Gi' me the paper! Gi' me the paper!" yelled a voice, as Hiram climbeduppermost on his man and fought to free his entangled arms.
At the same instant other arms were thrown about him from behind. Theman he had hit first had reentered the fight, it seemed.
With a herculean heave the man from Wild-cat Hill lurched backward,carrying his lighter assailant with him. Hiram had lost his club. Hegrasped the man on his back by the under part of his thighs, as he hadthe other, and lifted his feet from the ground. Then, so quickly thatthe man was taken off his guard, Hiram leaped into the air and fellbackward, falling with all the weight of his huge body on the man whoclung to him like an abalone to a rock.
"_Wuff_!" he heard again, as the fellow's breath forsook him in a spasmof pain. He lost his hold on Hiram, and Hiram flopped over.
"Run! Get a horse! Get away with the paper!" this fellow choked; andas Hiram sprang upon him he saw the other rise and totter toward ahorse.
Crashing a blow to the face of the man under him, Hiram sprang to hisfeet and lunged at the one who was fleeing. Whatever "the paper"meant, it was the nucleus of the plot, it appeared, and Hiram purposedto have it.
But, grasping frantically for a stirrup, then sprawling along the neckof the nearest horse, the man yelled to the animal, and it leaped awaywith him through the trees.
Hiram whirled back, beaten in that direction, and made for the other,who was on his feet and also running toward the two remaining mounts.The third man still lay inert.
Hiram started running for the second escaping man, but suddenly hisknees refused to hold his legs to their accustomed task. Blindness wascoming upon him, but he continued to grope toward the horses. Thenagain came the sounds of rapidly thundering hoofs. Hiram Hooker sighedweakly and placed both hands to his breast, which seemed weighted withsome heavy object, or bound about tightly with a rope. His hands cameaway red and wet He wilted in his tracks, sighed again, and seemed todrift placidly into a deep, soothing sleep.
Then a noise partially awoke him. His senses swam, and he thought heheard himself laughing crazily, but could not make sure whether he waslaughing or only had imagined it. A man was reeling toward theremaining horse, both hands to his head, and he looked so helpless andbefuddled that Hiram laughed again--or thought he did. The man groanedand mumbled, then fell flat on his face, as a baby falls in anunchecked collapse.
A little while he lay there, then struggled to hisfeet again, and tottered toward the horse, who seemed to be neighingshrilly for the mates that had deserted him.
Why, that was what Hiram had heard, he reasoned. He had not beenlaughing at all. A long space of semiconsciousness. Then came thedull thunder of hoofs once more. Hiram half raised his body on anelbow. There lay Jerkline Jo, stiff and immovable in her yellowoilskins. There was no one else about. Save himself, of course, buthe was so sleepy.
He fell back with a crash.
The She Boss: A Western Story Page 27