Nan of Music Mountain

by Frank H. Spearman

  CHAPTER XVI

  A VENTURE IN THE DARK

  Pushing his way hastily forward when he could make haste; crawlingslowly on his hands and knees when held by opposing rock; feeling fornarrow footholds among loose and treacherous fragments; flatteninghimself like a leech against the face of the precipice when thenarrowing ledge left him only inches under foot; clinging with tornhands to every favoring crevice, and pausing when the peril wasextreme for fresh strength, de Spain dragged his injured foot acrossthe sheer face of El Capitan in the last shadows of the day's failinglight.

  Half-way across, he stopped to look down. Far below lay the valleyshrouded in night. Where he stood, stars, already bright, lighted thepeaks. But nowhere in the depths could he see any sign of life. Spentby his effort, de Spain reached the rendezvous Nan had indicated, asnearly as the stars would tell him, by ten o'clock. He fell asleep inthe aspen grove. Horsemen passing not a hundred yards away rousedhim.

  He could not tell how many or who they were, but from the sounds hejudged they were riding into the Gap. The moon was not yet up, so heknew it was not much after midnight. The ground was very cold, and hecrawled farther on toward the road along which Nan had said he mightlook for her. It was only after a long and doubtful hour that he heardthe muffled footfalls of a horse. He stood concealed among the smallertrees until he could distinguish the outlines of the animal, and hiseye caught the figure of the rider.

  De Spain stepped out of the trees, and, moving toward Nan, caught herhand and helped her to the ground.

  She enjoined silence, and led the horse into the little grove.Stopping well within it, she stooped and began rearranging themufflers on the hoofs.

  "I'm afraid I'm too late," she said. "How long have you been here?"She faced de Spain with one hand on the pony's shoulder.

  "How could you get here at all?" he asked, reaching clandestinely forher other hand.

  "I got terribly frightened thinking of your trying El Capitan. Did youhave any falls?"

  "You see I'm here--I've even slept since. You! How could you get hereat all with a horse?"

  "If I'm only not too late," she murmured, drawing her hand away.

  "I've loads of time, it's not one o'clock."

  "They are hiding on both trails outside watching for you--and the moonwill be up--" She seemed very anxious. De Spain made light of herfears. "I'll get past them--I've got to, Nan. Don't give it athought."

  "Every corner is watched," she repeated anxiously.

  "But I tell you I'll dodge them, Nan."

  "They have rifles."

  "They won't get a chance to use them on me."

  "I don't know what you'll think of me--" He heard the troubled note inher voice.

  "What do you mean?"

  She began to unbutton her jacket. Throwing back the revers she feltinside around her waist, unfastened after a moment and drew forth aleathern strap. She laid it in de Spain's hands. "This is yours," shesaid in a whisper.

  He felt it questioningly, hurriedly, then with amazement. "Not acartridge-belt!" he exclaimed.

  "It's your own."

  "Where--?" She made no answer. "Where did you get it, Nan?" hewhispered hurriedly.

  "Where you left it."

  "How?" She was silent. "When?"

  "To-night."

  "Have you been to Calabasas and back to-night?"

  "Everybody but Sassoon is in the chase," she replied uneasily--as ifnot knowing what to say, or how to say it. "They said you should neverleave the Gap alive--they are ready with traps everywhere. I didn'tknow what to do. I couldn't bear--after what--you did for meto-night--to think of your being shot down like a dog, when you wereonly trying to get away."

  "I wouldn't have had you take a ride like that for forty belts!"

  "McAlpin showed it to me the last time I was at the stage barn,hanging where you left it." He strapped the cartridges around him.

  "You should never have taken that ride for it. But since you have--"He had drawn his revolver from his waistband. He broke it now and heldit out. "Load it for me, Nan."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Put four more cartridges in it yourself. Except for your cartridge,the gun is empty. When you do that you will know none of them everwill be used against your own except to protect my life. And if youhave any among them whose life ought to come ahead of mine--name him,or them, now. Do as I tell you--load the gun."

  He took hold of her hands and, in spite of her refusals, made her dohis will. He guided her hand to draw the cartridges, one afteranother, from his belt, and waited for her to slip them in thedarkness into the empty cylinder, to close the breech, and hand thegun back.

  "Now, Nan," he said, "you know me. You may yet have doubts--they willall die. You will hear many stories about me--but you will say: 'I putthe cartridges in his revolver with my own hands, and I know he won'tabuse the means of defense I gave him myself.' There can never be anyreal doubts or misunderstandings between us again, Nan, if you'llforgive me for making a fool of myself when I met you at Tenison's. Ididn't dream you were desperate about the way your uncle was playing;I pieced it all together afterward." He waited for her to speak, butshe remained silent.

  "You have given me my life, my defense," he continued, passing from asubject that he perceived was better left untouched. "Who is nearestand dearest to you at home?"

  "My Uncle Duke."

  "Then I never will raise a hand against your Uncle Duke. And this man,to-night--this cousin--Gale? Nan, what is that man?"

  "I hate him."

  "Thank God! So do I!"

  "But he is a cousin."

  "Then I suppose he must be one of mine."

  "Unless he tries to kill you."

  "He won't be very long in trying that. And now, what about yourself?What have you got to defend yourself against him, and against everyother drunken man?"

  She laid her own pistol without a word in de Spain's hand. He felt it,opened, closed, and gave it back. "That's a good defender--when it'sin reach. When it's at home it's a poor one."

  "It will never be at home again except when I am."

  "Shall I tell you a secret?"

  "What is it?" asked Nan unsuspectingly.

  "We are engaged to be married." She sprang from him like a deer. "It'sa dead secret," he said gravely; "nobody knows it yet--not even you."

  "You need never talk again like that if you want to be friends withme," she said indignantly. "I hate it."

  "Hate it if you will; it's so. And it began when you handed me thatlittle bit of lead and brass on the mountain to-night, to defend yourlife and mine."

  "I'll hate you if you persecute me the way Gale does. The moon isalmost up. You must go."

  "What have you on your feet, Nan?"

  "Moccasins." He stooped down and felt one with his hand. She drew herfoot hastily away. "What a girl to manage!" he exclaimed.

  "I'm going home," she said with decision.

  "Don't for a minute yet, Nan," he pleaded. "Think how long it will bebefore I can ever see you again!"

  "You may never see anybody again if you don't realize your dangerto-night. Can you ride with a hackamore?"

  "Like a dream."

  "I didn't dare bring anything else."

  "You haven't told me," he persisted, "how you got away at all." Theyhad walked out of the trees. He looked reluctantly to the east. "Tellme and I'll go," he promised.

  "After I went up to my room I waited till the house was all quiet.Then I started for Calabasas. When I came back I got up to my roomwithout being seen, and sat at the window a long time. I waited tillall the men stopped riding past. Then I climbed through the window anddown the kitchen roof, and let myself down to the ground. Some moremen came past, and I hid on the porch and slipped over to the horsebarns and found a hackamore, and went down to the corral and huntedaround till I found this little pinto--she's the best to ridebareback."

  "I could ride a razorback--why take all that trouble for me?"

  "If you don't start while
you have a chance, you undo everything Ihave tried to do to avoid a fight."

  The wind, stirring softly, set the aspen leaves quivering. The stars,chilled in the thin, clear night air, hung diamond-like in the heavensand the eastern sky across the distant desert paled for the risingmoon. The two standing at the horse's head listened a moment togetherin the darkness. De Spain, leaning forward, said something in a low,laughing voice. Nan made no answer. Then, bending, he took her handand, before she could release it, caught it up to his lips.

  * * * * *

  For a long time after he had gone she stood, listening for ashot--wondering, breathless at moments, whether de Spain could getpast the waiting traps. The moon came up, and still lingering, tornwith suspense, she watched a drift of fleecy clouds darken it. Shescanned anxiously the wrinkled face of the desert which, with awoman's craft, hides at night the accidents of age. It seemed to Nanas if she could overlook every foot of the motionless sea for milesbefore her; but she well knew how much it could conceal of ambush anddeath even when it professed so fairly to reveal all. Strain her earsas she would, the desert gave back no ripple of sound. No shot echoedfrom its sinister recesses--not even the clatter of retreating hoofs.

  De Spain, true to all she had ever heard of his Indian-like stealth,had left her side unabashed and unafraid--living, laughing, payingbold court to her even when she stubbornly refused to be courted--andhad made himself in the twinkling of an eye a part of the silencebeyond--the silence of the night, the wind, the stars, the waste ofsand, and of all the mystery that brooded upon it. She would havewelcomed, in her keen suspense, a sound of some kind, some reminderthat he yet lived and could yet laugh; none came.

  When it seemed as if an hour must have passed Nan felt her waynoiselessly home. She regained her room as she had left it, throughher east window, and, throwing herself across her bed, fell into aheavy sleep.

  * * * * *

  Day was breaking when the night boss, standing in the doorway at theCalabasas barns, saw a horseman riding at a leisurely pace up theThief River road. The barnman scrutinized the approaching strangerclosely. There was something strange and something familiar in theoutlines of the figure. But when the night-rider had dismounted infront of the barn door, turned his horse loose, and, limping stiffly,walked forward on foot, the man rubbed his eyes hard before he couldbelieve them. Then he uttered an incredulous greeting and led Henry deSpain into the barn office.

  "There's friends of yours in your room up-stairs right now," hedeclared, bulging with shock. De Spain, sitting down, forbade thebarnman to disturb them, only asking who they were.

  When he had asked half a dozen more leisurely questions and avoidedanswering twice as many, the barnman at de Spain's request helped himup-stairs. Beside himself with excitement, the night boss turned,grinning, as he laid one hand on the door-knob and the other on deSpain's shoulder.

  "You couldn't have come," he whispered loudly, "at a better time."

  The entryway was dark, and from the silence within the room one mighthave thought its occupants, if there were such, wrapped in slumber.But at intervals a faint clicking sound could be heard. The night manthrew open the door. By the light of two stage dash-lamps, one set onthe dresser and the other on a window-ledge, four men sat about arickety table in a life-and-death struggle at cards. No voice brokethe tense silence, not even when the door was thrown broadly open.

  No one--neither Lefever, Scott, Frank Elpaso, nor McAlpin--looked upwhen de Spain walked into the room and, with the night man tiptoeingbehind, advanced composedly toward the group. Even then his presencewould have passed unnoticed, but that Bob Scott's ear mechanicallyrecorded the limping step and transmitted to his trained intelligencemerely notice of something unusual.

  Scott, picking up his cards one at a time as Lefever dealt, raised hiseyes. Startling as the sight of the man given up for dead must havebeen, no muscle of Bob Scott's body moved. His expression of surpriseslowly dissolved into a grin that mutely invited the others, as he hadfound out for himself, to find out for themselves.

  Lefever finished his deal, threw down the pack, and picked up hishand. His suspicious eyes never rose above the level of the faces atthe table; but when he had thumbed his cards and looked from one tothe other of the remaining players to read the weather-signals, heperceived on Scott's face an unwonted expression, and looked to wherethe scout's gaze was turned for an explanation of it. Lefever's owneyes at the sight of the thinned, familiar face behind Elpaso's chair,starting, opened like full moons. The big fellow spread one hand out,his cards hidden within it, and with the other hand prudently drewdown his pile of chips. "Gentlemen," he said lightly, "this game isinterned." He rose and put a silent hand across the table overElpaso's shoulder. "Henry," he exclaimed impassively, "one question,if you please--and only one: How in thunder did you do it?"