by H. A. Cody
CHAPTER XXVIII
HELP FROM THE HILLS
After they had stumbled on for about fifteen minutes Curly called ahalt, and ordered the men to build a fire.
"This is as good a place as any," he told them. "No one will bother ushere to-night, an' that's all we care."
Cursing and grumbling in a maudlin manner, several of the men gathereda number of sticks, and soon a fire was started. As the flames shot upReynolds could see plainly the faces of his captors, and as he watchedthem his prospects did not seem very bright. They were men as recklessas Curly himself, and being half drunk they had lost all sense ofresponsibility. They did exactly what their leader commanded,notwithstanding their incessant complaints. This was exactly whatCurly wanted. He had supplied them with liquor, but had taken littlehimself.
When the fire had been lighted, Reynolds was securely tied to a treestanding near. The rope which bound him was drawn tight and caused himconsiderable pain, although he exhibited no outward sign. But hisheart was hot within him, especially when he looked upon Curly'ssneering and jubilant face. If he could only be free for a few minuteshe would attack the entire bunch, and revel in the fight. But to bebound and helpless was most galling.
"How d'ye like it?" Curly asked, coming up close to Reynolds. "Havinga good time, eh? This is our picnic to-night."
"So I see," and the captive's lips curled in a sarcastic smile. "Butjust let me free for about five minutes, and then you'll see whosepicnic it is."
"Not on yer life. We've got ye sure now, an' intend to keep ye thatway until we're through with ye. What would yer little girlie say ifshe could see ye now?"
"To whom do you refer?"
"Oh, I guess you know, all right," and Curly grinned. "She's pretty,isn't she? But she has no use for me. She prefers a white-liveredsucker like you."
"Who was the big white-livered sucker during the war?" Reynoldsretorted. "I didn't hide away in the hills like you did, Curly. Youare a coward, and you know it."
"Who killed his pardner, though?" Curly snarled, for the prisoner'swords stung him to the quick.
"What do you mean?" Reynolds asked in surprise.
"Where is Frontier Samson? What happened to the old man?"
Reynolds' eyes grew big with amazement as the meaning of Curly's wordsdawned upon his mind. So these men believed that he had killed theprospector! His face turned pale at the thought. What could he say inself-defense? Curly noted his embarrassment as well as the change ofcountenance, and he was greatly elated.
"Ye can't deny it," he charged. "Look, boys," he shouted. "See thewhite streak about his gills."
"Where ish Samson?" a blear-eyed man demanded, thrusting hiswhiskey-reeking mouth up close to Reynolds' face. "Where ish my oldfriend?"
Reynolds made no reply, although it was with difficulty that herestrained himself. To try to explain to such men would be useless, hewas well aware. Others now surrounded him, who asked, not only aboutSamson, but about Jim Weston's daughter. They made the night hideouswith their oaths and vile questions, until they seemed to Reynolds morelike imps of the infernal regions let loose than human beings. He sawthat they were becoming more and more reckless as they talked, shouted,and quarrelled with one another, and he expected at any minute to seethem turn upon him and inflict some bodily injury, and, perhaps, tearhim to pieces.
All this pleased Curly immensely, as he stood a little aside andwatched his followers. His eyes seldom left the captive's face, but helooked in vain for any show of weakness on Reynolds' part. This wasnot altogether to his liking. He wished to see his victim show signsof fear, to cry aloud and plead for mercy. He had done so himself, andhe longed to find it in Reynolds that he might taunt him with weaknessand cowardice.
When he had waited in vain for fully half an hour, he ordered the mento pile dry wood about the prisoner's feet. They readily obeyed, andall took part, anticipating some rare sport.
"We'll take that sneer off yer face," Curly remarked, as he stepped upclose to Reynolds. "We'll make ye yell."
"The same as you did at Glen West, I suppose?" Reynolds retorted."Your lungs must have been sore after such yelps. Who showed the whiteliver then?"
Curly spat contemptuously at the captive, and motioned the men to bringa burning stick from the fire. Several at once hastened to obey,tumbling over one another in their eagerness. One, more active thanthe rest, extricated himself, seized a flaming torch, and rushed towardthe prisoner. He had almost reached him, and Reynolds felt that themoment of doom had arrived. But just at this critical instant apeculiar noise fell upon his ears, and he listened intently. Then hisheart bounded with hope, for it was the sound of galloping horses. Hiscaptors heard it, too, and the man carrying the torch hesitated andthen stopped. It was an ominous sound to them, and their hearts smotethem with a great fear. But they had little time for thought, for atonce nine hundred pounds of quivering horse flesh, bone, and sinewymuscle leaped out of the darkness into their midst, and reared wildlywhen suddenly checked by a pair of strong, tense arms. With headtossed high, and champing madly at his bits, Midnight reeled backalmost upon his haunches in such a manner that an inexperienced riderwould have been unhorsed in an instant. But Glen was not in the leastperturbed by the rearing steed, and maintained her seat with an easycomposure. In truth, she never thought about herself, but only of himwhose life was in danger.
"Cowards!" she cried. "Unloose that man!" and she pointed to Reynolds.
But no one moved to obey her imperious command. The men stared as ifshe were an apparition, so sudden and unexpected was her arrival. Andin fact, she did seem like a leader of the legendary Valkyries, withher flashing eyes and wind-swept hair, mounted upon that prancing horseas black as night itself. It was little wonder that the men trembledas they watched her, while several crossed themselves as if to ward offsome malign influence.
Curly, who had staggered back aghast at this sudden intrusion, was thefirst to recover. He glanced apprehensively around, as if meditatingflight. But Glen's keen eyes detected his design, and she sternlyordered him to remain where he was. Then she turned and spoke a fewwords to her followers in the Indian tongue. At once a rapid movementtook place, as the natives formed themselves in a circle around thewhite men and thus barred every avenue of escape. This brought theminers somewhat to their senses, and seeing that their unwelcomevisitors were not ghosts, their hands slipped to their hip-pockets.But a mighty roar from Sconda paralyzed their hands, causing them todrop by their sides as the baffled men stared sullenly upon almost ascore of rifles pointing straight at their hearts.
It seemed to Reynolds as if he must be beholding a vision, so wonderfuldid it all appear. He gazed upon Glen with intense admiration. Hecould hardly believe it possible that such a sweet, confiding girlcould be so changed into an imperious leader in such a short time.Could she be the same who had bade him such a tender farewell by theshore of the lake in the hills? She looked more beautiful than evernow, but it was the beauty of wild abandon in the glory of a noblecause, which for the time had transformed this tender maiden into awoman of unselfish daring. She held him spellbound as she sat sosuperbly upon her now quiet horse. Forgotten were his bonds as hewatched her, and his one thought was of her. How had she heard of histrouble? and how had she managed to arrive just at the critical moment?He longed to hear the story from her own lips. A passionate desireswept upon him to enfold her in his arms, to tell her how proud he wasof what she had done, and to press his lips to hers. And she was thegirl who had been so grossly insulted by his villainous captors! Thethought stung him, and he turned sharply toward the cringing Curly.The brute was standing there, sullen and defiant. Reynolds knew thathe would soon be free, and then he would deal with the cur. He heardGlen speak and saw Sconda dismount and disarm the miners. Last of allhe came to Curly, and when the Indian reached for his revolver, theserpent spat at him and cursed wildly. With a marvelous restraint,Sconda merely took the weapon from the enraged man'
s pocket, and thenwalking over to Reynolds, swiftly cut the cords which bound him to thetree and freed his hands.
Finding himself unbound, Reynolds cast one glance toward Glen, and sawher looking at him with a peculiar expression in her eyes. He seemedto read there a challenge, which could have but one meaning. He turnedto Curly, and beholding that sneer of contempt still upon his face, hesprang forward and confronted the villain.
"I am free now," he cried, "and am able to answer your insult to thepurest woman upon earth. It is man to man, and we shall settle itright here."
But Curly was in no mood for a fight; that was not his nature. He wasa coward at heart, though the failure of his plot made him so angrythat he was daringly reckless. With a curse he started to turn away,but Reynolds caught him by the shoulders and swung him roughly around.
"No, you don't get off so easily," he told him. "One of us must get adrubbing here to-night, and if you can give it to me, come on."
"Take that, then," and Curly drew off and hit him a savage blow on theface.
It was all that Reynolds needed, and springing forward, he felled hisantagonist to the ground with a single blow. And there Curly lay, andmade no attempt to rise. He had enough, and he knew in his heart thathe was no match for the man standing over him.
"Get up," Reynolds ordered. "I'm not through with you yet."
But Curly did not move. He lay there as if dead. Reynolds did notknow what to do, for he was unwilling to inflict further punishmentupon the creature while he was down.
"Curly." It was Glen's voice, and it had an ominous note. "Get up atonce, and explain the meaning of this night's affair. Why this insultto Mr. Reynolds?"
To this command, however, Curly paid no heed, but remained as he hadfallen. Glen's eyes flashed with a dangerous light as she tappedimpatiently with her riding-whip upon the pommel of her saddle.
"Get up," she again ordered, "or I shall hand you over to the Indians.They will not be so considerate of you as we are."
As Curly still made no effort to rise, Glen uttered just two Indianwords to Sconda. The latter immediately turned and roared a command tohis followers. At once half a dozen natives sprang eagerly forward,but before they could lay hands upon him Curly was on his feet,trembling violently. He leaped aside from the natives, his faceghastly pale.
"Keep them off!" he yelled. "Don't let the devils touch me!"
"I thought that would bring you somewhat to your senses," and a smileof contempt hovered about the corners of Glen's mouth as she spoke."But I mean what I say, you can be assured of that. Tell me, now, whatis the meaning of all this? Why did you bring Mr. Reynolds here, andwhat were you going to do to him?"
"He murdered his pardner," was the low reply.
Glen gave a violent start at this accusation, and looked keenly atCurly. Her hands trembled, and it seemed to her as if her heart hadstopped beating.
"Who was his partner?" she at length found voice to ask.
"Frontier Samson, of course. He was a friend of ours, and we wereabout to avenge his death, when you interfered."
"But how did you learn that Frontier Samson is dead?" Glen inquired.
"Because no one has seen him since he left camp with this guy," and hemotioned to Reynolds who was standing nearby. "Samson hasn't shown upat Big Draw, an' his pardner doesn't care to explain what happened tohim."
For a few seconds there was a dead silence, save for the crackling ofthe fire, and the restless movements of the horses. Then from out ofthe darkness came a roar of laughter, and while all turned and staredin astonishment, Frontier Samson himself bounded into their midst andconfronted Curly.
"Do I look like a dead man?" he demanded. "D'ye think I've beenmurdered by me pardner?"
Curly's only reply was a fearful stare as if he had seen a ghost. Hetried to speak, but words would not come.
"Frightened, are ye?" and the prospector took a step closer to theunhappy villain. "But ye'll be more frightened before I git throughwith ye, let me tell ye that. What's the meanin' of sich actions? Outwith it."
"I t-thought y-you were dead," Curly stammered.
"An' so ye was takin' the matter of justice into yer own dirty hands,eh?"
"Somebody had to do it."
"H'm," Samson grunted as he glanced around upon the miners. "Queerjustice, I call it. Why didn't ye let the Police look after theaffair, if ye thought me pardner had murdered me? No, ye can't answerthat," he continued, for Curly made no defence. "It's yer own badheart, that's what made ye do it. Yer jealous; that's what's wrong.An' as fer justice, you'll git plenty of it soon, an' more'n ye'll carefer. An' you talk about a man murderin' his pardner, an' givin' himjustice! Who murdered Bill Ducett, at Black Ravine, tell me that?"
Curly's eyes, which were big with fear, now fairly burst from theirsockets as the old prospector laid this startling charge. His kneestrembled, and it seemed as if he must fall to the ground, so great washis terror.
"H-how d'ye know about Bill?" he gasped.
"Never mind how I know," Samson replied. Then he turned toward Glen."Excuse me, Miss," and he lifted his old weather-beaten hat, "I'm realsorry that you have to witness sich a scene as this. But it can't behelped, fer thar stands the worst criminal that ever came into thisregion. An' to think of him talkin' about murder an' justice, when hehimself murdered his own pardner!"
"It's a lie!" Curly denied with an oath. "What d'ye mean by makingsuch a charge?"
"It's no lie, Curly," and the prospector looked sternly into the cur'sbloodshot eyes. "I've got all the proof that's necessary to stretchyer neck. But it'll keep until the right ones git hold of ye. In themeantime, we might as well go down to Shorty's an' git something toeat. I'm as hungry as a two-year-old bear. We'll take these fellersalong," and he motioned to the miners. "Jist let yer Injuns look after'em, Miss. An' ye'd better see that Curly is tied tight so's he can'tgit away. We don't want to run any risk with him."
It took but a few minutes to carry out this latter suggestion, and thenall headed for the mining creek. The miners were marshalled by theIndians, with Samson walking watchfully by Curly's side, while Reynoldskept close to Glen. No one spoke, and it was a strange processionwhich wound its way down the creek, and at length halted in front ofthe roadhouse.