Delphi Collected Works of Max Brand US

by Max Brand

  “Keep on ridin’ steady. Don’t whip no hoss and don’t liven ’em up with no spurs,” directed the leader. “Take all of this mighty easy. There ain’t goin’ to be no spurt until we got their bullets whistlin’ around us. And then maybe we can whistle back a little bit.”

  On his own magnificent horse he now took the lead to regulate the pace and struck away at a swinging canter which the others could easily maintain. In the meantime, that noise like rain increased behind them, swelled large, and finally, looking back down a straight stretch, brilliant with the increasing moonlight, they could see the party behind them.

  It was a sight to make the hearts of the stoutest quail. For, packed closely together across the road and stretching far down it there were no fewer than two-score horses. They came fast, but not recklessly fast enough to bum out the hearts of their horses, for one could tell by the fashion in which the group held together that all of the animals were kept well in hand. This was the meaning, then, this resolution and this system, of the saying that crimes were no longer profitable in Cranston County.

  “I didn’t know,” snarled out Hank Geer, “that there was that many fighters in Cranston County. Dog-gone me, they ride along as slick as cavalry.”

  Like cavalry, indeed, they came, and the hearts of the fugitives failed them when they saw that resolute charge of such a body of fighting men. Perhaps in the mind of each rose up those other lurid tales of how the men of Cranston had ridden down criminals and having cornered them had meted out justice of their own for fear that justice in the court of the law would not move swiftly enough. The whole troop of the bandits began to push ahead with frantic haste. Even the sharp voice of Harry Christopher, raised in command, could hardly keep them back to a reasonable gait — such as that maintained by their pursuers, for instance.

  “And they all got hosses!” shouted Jim at the ear of Allan. “Old son, we’re in for it!”

  For truly the posse held the pace with wonderful ease and still crept upon the outlaws little by little. Before them now appeared a long, narrow cut between two ranges of hills, a cut as narrow as though it had been gouged out by a river, and perhaps a river had indeed done the work in past ages, since when it had run dry.

  Once in the throat of this pass, where the moonlight left a steep, thick shadow on the eastern side and the sharp walls cast back the echoes of the hoofs in thunder, the party fell into two divisions on account of the narrowness of the trail. In the first flight were Harry Christopher at the head and then five others. Behind came a considerable gap, for there was the slow pace of Mustard to contend with — Mustard, who had become weary of the running in spirit rather than in the flesh and desired, now, to slacken to a most moderate canter. A prick of the spurs merely made her run stiff-legged, with a humped back. In vain the companions behind Allan cursed both him and his horse. In vain they strove to get past, for on either side of the narrow trail the boulders jutted up like great teeth. And the rest were kept back.

  Allan heard the raging voice of Sam Buttrick in his rear yelling: “Knock the fool kid in the head, Hank, and we’ll bust by him! He’s sellin’ us all for a nickel, this way!”

  “Get out of the way!” thundered Hank Geer, the terrible. “Get out, if you can’t ride your fool nag no faster’n a walk!”

  But Allan had no time to act according to this gentle advice, and perhaps he would have received the bullet which had been advised by Buttrick had not the sharp voice of Jim cut in: “The gent that pulls a gun on my pal Al gets pulled on by me!”

  Perhaps that warning saved Allan in the first place. In the second place he was protected by an incident over which none of them could have had the slightest control. There was a loud shouting from the head of the defile, which was already in view, and then a rapid chattering of guns. They heard the roaring of the hoofs of scores of horses before them. They saw the head of their own party rush away out of the defile at the full speed of their horses, their guns flashing repeatedly as they fired toward the right. And from the right, at the same time, there swept into view a veritable little army of horsemen, riding with the wildest determination, their guns blazing as they plunged along. One moiety of their number spurred off after Harry Christopher and the foremost members of Christopher’s gang. The rest swerved back and instantly choked all egress from the defile which had now become a perfect trap, blocked at either end with overwhelming numbers of the hard-fighting, hard-riding countrymen.

  Well indeed had the men of Cranston County proved that they were worthy of all their reputation as upholders of the law! The very ground seemed to have put forth armed warriors in the way of the retreating bandits, before and behind.

  It needed no commander at this juncture to tell Allan what he must do. Before him and behind came the enemy. On either hand arose a wall up which no horse, no matter what a goat-footed mountain climber, could have advanced for fifty yards. He threw himself out of the saddle and leaped up the rough slope. His companions on that wild retreat were already laboring in the same direction, with Hank Geer puffing and groaning in the rear. For strong walker as Hank was, his long, bony legs were not meant for the labor of struggling and jumping up such a murderous incline as this. He was further impeded by the bulk and the weight of one of the sacks of the treasure, for he had been one among that original six into whose care loot had been entrusted.

  All this was seen by Allan as he hurried up from the rear. What he lacked by a slow start he was making up for by the ease with which he climbed. It mattered nothing that he had no lifetime of training in mountaineering. The God-given strength and surety of his arms and hands were in his legs and feet also. Therefore, while his allies struggled on in advance, he could afford to turn his head and look back into the hollow. There the two tides of the pursuers met in the heart of the defile, met with yells of mingled disappointment and of triumph as they saw that the prey had for the moment slipped out of reach but still remained so near — and on foot.

  They abandoned their horses instantly. A mere handful remained behind with their cow-ponies; the others swarmed up the slope. A score of nimble-footed youth, each eager to surpass the other in the chase, leaped into the van and gained fast, fast upon poor Hank Geer, whose breath had already so far failed him that he dared not waste it in curses.

  This was the situation as Allan overtook his lank companion. He said not a word, but from the shoulder of Geer he snatched the treasure sack. From his waist he dragged the heavy cartridge belt, leaving the naked gun alone in Hank’s hand. There was a startled gasp from Geer as he realized what had been done for him. Then, redoubling his speed, he gained the top of the slope.

  At least there would be no easy pursuit for the men of Cranston County. From the edge of the draw Jim Jones had opened fire, blazing away at the shadowy forms as they climbed and driving them instantly into cover from which they opened a return fire that swept the top of the cliff. Nothing could have lived there for an instant in the face of such a storm of lead, but nothing remained there to strive to maintain that position. The whole party was stumbling down the farther slope.

  “Kid,” said Geer, slapping the shoulder of his powerful companion as they ran on side by side, “that was a good turn. And Hank Geer never forgets a good turn.”

  “I blocked you in the pass,” answered Allan. “It was only turn and turn about.”

  They were running down the surface of an undulating plateau which formed the uppermost crest of that sweep of low hills. On either hand sharp-walled gullies stepped down into the narrow valleys beyond. And those valleys were crossed and re-crossed by fences and lines of trees — a veritable mass of natural and artificial entanglements through which they would have to dodge their way.

  “Which way?” gasped out Jim Jones, in the lead.

  “Straight on,” said Sam Buttrick.

  As he spoke, they dipped into a shallow, steep-walled hollow in the surface of the plateau. One bank shelved sharply back, its face masked with shrubbery. That natural shelter was espie
d by Jim. He leaped for it and dragged Geer after him. The others followed perforce, Sam Buttrick vowing that they had placed themselves in a trap like stupid rabbits, but there was no time for argument now. Behind them came the voices of the pursuers, who had already topped the rise and begun to race across the plateau.

  21. AL’S STUNT

  HALF A DOZEN jumped down into the very hollow at the edge of which the fugitives lay crouched. The others sped around on either side. But they all halted almost at once.

  “I seen ’em about here,” said one.

  “What’d they do, then? Fade into thin air?” asked another. The heavy voice of an older man, already much spent with running, came up from the rear.

  “They ducked down into the valley on one side or the other,” he declared. “That’s what they’d most nacherally do, ain’t it? Look down the plateau. If they was still running that way, we could see ’em against the sky.”

  “Either that, or they’ve took to cover.”

  “What cover?”

  “Rocks.”

  “Nothin’ big enough to hide four men.”

  “There was six of ’em.”

  “Five, you fool”

  “Do something; we can’t stay here all night while the skunks get clean away.”

  “Let one gent stay here,” said he whose voice was deeper and older than the voices of the others. “Then we’ll split up into gangs. Here’s nigh fifty of us. Young, you take part. Shaughnessy, you take another. I’ll take the boys that’ll go with me. Langton can take another. Here’s four gorges that run down, two on each side. Comb them places like they had diamonds in ’em! The gent that stays up here, if he sees anything, can give a holler and we’ll hear him. On a still night like this, sounds travel pretty clear and pretty far.”

  “I’ll stay,” volunteered a voice. “Dog-gone me if I ain’t tired of runnin’. I’ll stay put.”

  “Good old Bill! Keep an eye open.”

  “You trust me, boys. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

  There was a brief babbling of voices as the parties were made up. In another minute they were off to their work. Certainly the men of Cranston County were proving again that they were capable man hunters and organizers of man hunts on this night of nights!

  The noise of the retreating footfalls died off; but still they could hear Bill, the sentinel, walking back and forth as he kept his post and whistled as he strolled about. One in so cheerful a frame of mind was certain to be vigilant. But he was now at such a distance that the four in hiding were enabled to whisper to one another, guarding their breath with the greatest care. Indeed, up to this point they had hardly been able to enjoy deep breathing itself, let alone conversation. And for all the mighty depths of his lungs, Allan had felt himself stifled.

  “One fine, sweet devil of a mess,” was the first comment, and it came from Sam Buttrick. “It was the kid that done it. What kind of a hoss d’you ride, Vincent? An’ how d’you ride it? Damn me if I don’t wish that Geer had drilled you clean and—”

  “Shut up,” said Geer sullenly. “The kid ain’t to blame. It was his hoss. Them Roman-nosed fools is always where you don’t want ’em. But what’s up to us to do?”

  “Try to sneak off if we can,” said Jim.

  “With this gent Bill watchin’? Don’t be a fool, Jim. If he was singing, we might do it, because a gent that sings partly closes his eyes. But a gent that whistles is seein’ everything.”

  “What, then?”

  “Somebody has got to get Bill.”

  “A gun would call up the whole gang on us.”

  “Something silent is better’n a gun — a knife, old son!”

  “Who’ll do it?”

  “Me.”

  And Buttrick almost snarled with a savage anticipation of satisfaction as he swayed to his knees and hands to crawl out of his hiding place.

  “He won’t hear me no more’n a snake until I’m behind him — and then — I know where to put the ol’ toad sticker. You can lay to that, old son!”

  “For Heaven’s sake,” murmured Allan, turning sick. “Wait!”

  “You got us into this. What you got to offer?”

  “Let me get him.”

  “You? You’d make enough noise to wake up the birds!”

  “He didn’t make none too much noise when he put you to sleep, Sam,” broke in the grim voice of Hank Geer, who had evidently taken it upon himself to champion the youth whose clumsy riding had put them all in this terrible predicament.

  There was a growl of beastly rage from Buttrick.

  “It was a slip — it was a chance — you heard him say so himself.”

  “You never tried no second chance with your fists with him.”

  This from Geer, who now added as Buttrick snarled in his fury: “Go ahead, kid. It’s your chance to do us a turn, and a big turn, too!”

  There was nothing for it but for Allan to do as he had promised, although he realized that even the bearding of Johnston and Jardine had been a small danger compared with this adventure. For he had to attack an armed man studiously standing guard; and his own scruples made it impossible for him to use a deadly weapon, whereas the other would shoot with a practiced hand and shoot to kill at the first sign of so much as a shadow’s stir.

  He drew his belt close, for he was quivering with dread and excitement.

  “Have you got a plan, Al?” asked the friendly voice of Jim.

  “I have one,” answered Allan, but there was not a vestige of an idea in his brain as he stole cautiously out of the shelter, putting back the branches of the shrubbery one by one with his hands so that there might not be even the brushing sound of the leaves against his clothes as he came out.

  There was no need for that precaution, as it appeared, for when he gained the open and straightened to his knees to look over the edge of the hollow, he saw the enemy clearly outlined against the stars a full thirty yards away. Against the stars he saw the man of the posse, the same stars which, not long before, had seemed to him so beautiful as they looked down upon El Ridal and the lady of his heart who lived there. Here were the same bright clusters of them, for the moon which had drowned them earlier in the night had now clothed herself with a thick mass of cloud, of which only the outer filaments were a brilliant silver. Here was the same face of night, but with what a different heart he looked out upon it!

  He thought of that, but only for a moment. He had not taken the first gliding movement m his approach before he began to be transformed. He could not use an upright gait. He had to drag off his boots and go upon toes, knees, and strong, sure hands, gliding as, in his boyhood, he had often watched the cat stalk a bird in the back yard. He could understand, now, why the eyes of the stalking cat had become green with an ineffable and devilish joy, for the same joy was now in his heart as he looked across the rocks at Bill, his victim to be.

  It was a hard thing to accomplish. Every moment the cautious sentinel was turning here and there, on the watch. In the hollows near by the sounds of the searchers were most plainly audible, floating up through the clear quiet air of the mountain night, now fast growing chill. Moreover, they might return in part at any time and make all his expedition fruitless — make it even impossible for him to regain that miserable shelter among the bushes in the hollow. Still worse, the rocks which scattered the surface of the plateau were, as one of the posse had said before, very small, not nearly big enough to shelter a grown man.

  But he worked as the cat had worked in the back yard. Now he took a few gliding, animal paces forward upon all fours. Now, as the guard turned, he sank softly upon his face and his belly, watching with only one eye. So, for five eternally long minutes he glided ahead until the other was almost within his reach — a scant five or six paces away. But then. Bill deliberately turned upon his heel and walked to a new position — walked toward it passing within the length of a man’s body from Allan.

  The latter gave himself up, seeing the foe step directly toward him, and seeing the gun, to
o, naked in the hand of the latter. But luck, which favors the stealthy, was with him. The eyes of Bill were straining far away. He saw nothing of this misshapen shadow sprawled among the rocks at his very feet. But, as he passed on, the strange shadow collected, bulged into the shape of a man rising to his knees, and then from silent, stockinged feet, the hunter sprang forward.

  One hand with fingers like shrinking steel cables clutched the gun wrist of Bill, and just as the wasp’s sting makes the spider numb, so that terrible grip turned the fingers of Bill limp and the gun dropped harmlessly at his feet. The crook of Allan’s other elbow was at the same instant bent around the throat of his victim. They fell prostrate upon the ground.

  All that he could think of was something out of his childhood. “Do you give up. Bill?”

  There was a gurgling sound, and Allan released the throat-crushing grip of his arm.

  “I give up!” gasped poor Bill. “But how”

  Voices came over the brow of the plateau and advanced straight toward them.

  “Lie still,” said Allan, through his teeth, as he felt a terrible fierceness sweep through him. “Lie still! If they find us — if you make a move — I break your neck first. Then I’ll tackle ’em.”

  He would have done it. There was no fear in him as he lay there, but all the passions of the devil were loosed in him at that moment, as all the passions of evil are loosed in the cat whose crafty, lucky spring has at last brought down the fluttering bird in its claws.

  There were three voices in the party which approached.

  “They’re tryin’ the valley on each side,” said one. “If them four went down that way, they’re done for. There’s more searchers started up them valleys from each end. We’ve telephoned from the station to Hinchley, and that town has turned out a bunch to close in in this direction. We got ’em sure.”