“You take a lot from your hired folk, Eden,” the guest said. “Shucks, women must chatter, an’ she’d give her life for Carol,” the old man excused.
“Well, that alone lets her off with me. What brought Green?” The other told him, and the gambler’s face grew grave. “Seems to be nothing else to do, but it’s like setting the fox to guard the chickens,” was his comment.
Meanwhile, Sudden had reached the head of the herd and told his news to the astounded foreman.
“A piece along is a steep-walled gully with a’most no outlet,” he explained. “Throw the cows, wagon, an’ remuda in there, take cover at the entrance, an’ wait. When yu don’t show up, the Injuns’ll come a-lookin’ for yu. If yu can stand ‘em off for a while, there’s help on the way.”
“Help?” ejaculated Jeff. “Where in blazes from?”
“I’ve sent for Rogue,” Sudden replied. “Yu see, he’s figurin’ to lift this herd—presently, so he won’t stand by an’ let the redskins have it.”
The foreman’s troubled face broke into a grin. “Gosh! that’s one bright idea, boy,” he exclaimed. “We can deal with that damned outlaw later, but for the time we use him. What did the 0I’ Man say?”
“I ain’t got time even to tell yu what he didn’t say,” the cowboy smiled. “Get busy, ol’-timer, an’ if anybody starts shootin’ from behind the Injuns yu’ll know that me an’ Sandy is sittin’ in.”
He whirled his horse and raced for the far side of the trail. The foreman’s gaze followed him reflectively. “Outlaw, huh?” he muttered. “Pity the damned country ain’t got a lot more like him.”
Riding ahead, he soon found the spot Sudden had described and saw its suitability. The floor of the gully lay below the level of the plain, which sloped into it, and the walls on either side were wellnigh vertical. The outlet at the far end was too rough and steep even for longhorns to attempt unless badly scared. The entrance was guarded by scrub and rocks which would afford good cover for the defenders. He saw no sign of Indians and surmised, rightly, that knowing the herd must come that way, they were not troubling to watch its progress.
Jeff waited there impatiently, having already given orders for the cows to be hustled along. Soon the leaders appeared, at a lumbering, clumsy trot, bellowing a protest against the unusual exertion. Hurriedly they were hazed into the gully as they arrived and left to their own devices. This took time, and the foreman cast many anxious glances up the trail. When, at length, the wagon and remuda followed the last of the cattle, he breathed more freely, and telling the outfit to hunt cover, sought his employer. He found him fuming.
“Ain’t I the owner o’ this herd no more, or are yu takin’ orders from Green?” was his first question.
“Shore yo’re the owner, an’ I’m doin’ my best to keep yu that,” Jeff said tartly. “Yu gotta remember this, Sam, they may be yore cows, but the boys’ lives are their own.”
“Yu think that fella was talkin’ straight?” Eden demanded.
“Yeah, an’ so would yu if yu weren’t as prejudiced as hell,” was the blunt reply.
“Anyways, we’ll know soon. The Injuns will have heard the cattle an’ be wonderin’ why we ain’t turnin’ up ”
“Bah! I don’t believe—”
The crack of a rifle cut him short and the foreman dashed to the entrance of the gully.
The Infant, kneeling behind a ridge, was disgustedly reloading. He had, he claimed, seen a feathered top-knot above a bush some two hundred yards up the trail. Jeff returned to report.-
“That scout’ll spill the beans,” he said. “They’ll be along plenty soon.”
“Help me outa this an’ reach my gun,” the old man ordered. “Boss, yu ain’t fit,” the foreman protested.
“I can sit behind a rock just as well as in that blasted hell on wheels,” Eden snorted.
“Gimme a hand.”
With Jeff’s assistance he climbed out, walked weakly to the line of defence, and ensconced himself behind a boulder. The outfit cheered him lustily. As one of them put it, the Old Man might be short on temper, but he had grit enough for ten. As Jeff turned away, Judy had a last word:
“Tell that ornery man o’ mine not to git hisself shot, ‘cause I’m dependin’ on him,” she said.
But Peg-leg never got the message, for when the bearer emerged into the open, it was driven from his mind; the enemy had grown tired of waiting. Down the trail from the east came a long line of mounted savages, their paint-smeared, copper-coloured bodies gleaming in the bright light. Each warrior carried the circular shield of buffalo hide, a bow, and a sheaf of arrows. Here and there came the flash of a gun-barrel—old fashioned muzzle-loaders, bartered for skins, or gained in a raid on some solitary settlement. Save for an occasional shrill cry, the advance was made in silence.
“‘Paches,” the foreman decided. “Comanches would ‘a’ bin screamin’ their dirty throats out.” With the quick eye of one accustomed to count cattle he made a calculation. “Over fifty.
Gosh! I’m hopin’ Rogue don’t dawdle any.” He surveyed his slim line of defence anxiously. “Lie close, lads,” he warned, “an’ don’t let loose’ till I give the word; we can’t afford to miss.”
Baudry, rifle in hand, had joined the cattleman. No one, looking at his passive, unconcerned features, would have guessed that all his carefully planned scheme depended upon the defeat of the redskins. With narrowed eyes he watched the far end of the line swing round until, with one screeching yell, the riders flogged their ponies into a dead run and charged full at the mouth of the gully. Like a wave of destruction the savages surged on and it seemed that the handful of whites must be swept away. Silent, grim-faced, with levelled weapons, they waited for the word. It did not come until the foe were less than a hundred paces distant, and then:
“Give ‘em hell, boys,” the foreman rasped.
The crash of the rifles was followed by exultant shouts from the marksmen as they saw bronze bodies go down before their bullets. The stream of lead disrupted the wave in the centre and the two halves curved left and right, replying to the rifles with a cloud of arrows, some of which sang past the ears of the white men. Out on the trail a half-dozen dead or wounded were stretched, and as many horses.
The redskins were soon on the move again. Strung out in a line they headed west and then whirled and raced their ponies across the gully mouth, each horseman, as he arrived opposite the opening, vanishing from sight.
“Where in hell they got to?” the Infant queried.
“Lyin’ alongside the hoss, with a foot through the bellyband,” Jeff explained, and added grimly, “Down the hosses, son, an’ watch out for arrers.”
The caution was needed, for from under the necks of the galloping ponies the red riders sent a succession of the deadly shafts, which whistled through the air and searched the cover.
The defenders replied with their rifles, but the moving single marks were difficult to hit, and they did not meet with much success. The braves who had successfully crossed the firing-line swung up into their seats again and circled round to repeat the manoeuvre. From the far side of the trail two rifles crashed and the same number of ponies became riderless. The foreman chuckled.
“Jim an’ Sandy is gettin’ interested,” he said.
His satisfaction was short-lived. From a clump of thorn ten paces distant came a gasping gurgle and the rattle of a dropped weapon. At the risk of his life, Jeff sprang to the spot, only to find he could do nothing. Crumpled up on the ground, an arrow through his throat, lay Silent.
The foreman straightened the body, placed the hat over the face, and swore savagely. As he turned away, the Infant called:
“Hey, Jeff, pull this damn stick out—it hurts like blazes.” An arrow had transfixed the boy’s forearm. Snapping the shaft, the foreman drew out the barbed end, inspecting the edges of the wound closely. Then he nodded, and tied it up with a handkerchief.
“Mighta bin wuss,” he said. “Keep down; they’ve got Silent.�
��
The procession of seemingly masterless mustangs had passed and a respite from the rain of arrows ensued. The Apaches were bunched together farther down the trail. The intermittent bark of two guns from the rear of the attackers indicated that Jim and Sandy were still interested.
At the other end of the firing-line Jed was wrinkling his brow.
“Say, Dumpy, how many d’yu figure we’ve knocked over?” he asked.
“Well, yu ain’t got any, but the rest of us has downed ‘bout ten,” was the answer.
For once his friend ignored an insult. “There’s more’n twice that number layin’ out there an’ some of ‘em is movin’,” Jed asserted.
“Creased an’ tryin’ to crawl clear,” Dumpy suggested.
“They wouldn’t come this way,” Jed objected. “No, sir, dropped off’n their broncs an’ playin’ dead so’s they can sneak in an’ rush us, that’s what. The jigger with the eagle feather in his top-knot is five yards nearer than when I spotted him. I’m savin’ him the trouble o’ pertendin’.”
Raising his rifle he pulled the trigger and they saw the brown body jerk convulsively, struggle, and flop back.
“Who fired?” Jeff asked sharply. “Wanta kill ‘em twice over?”
Ere Jed could explain, the supposed corpses did it for him, seven or eight of the nearest scrambling to their feet and sprinting for their lives, zigzagging to escape the bullets the cowboys sent after them. Several were bowled over but the others regained their comrades.
“Good for yu, Jed,” Eden called out. “I’m rememberin’ it. I reckon they won’t try that trick again.”
As though they had been awaiting the result of this ruse, the Apaches began to show signs of fresh activity, massing together in readiness for another charge. Two rifles spoke from the opposing side of the trail and a brave toppled to the ,;round, while another jumped clear of his staggering pony.
“Well done, Jim an’ Sandy,” the foreman cried.
“Yu figure it’s them?” the cattleman asked.
“I’m damn shore,” Jeff said stoutly. “If we git clear o’ this it’s them yu gotta thank, like it or not.”
The savages were hesitating, the attack from the rear seemed to be bothering them. They were now galloping to and Fro, jabbering, gesturing, apparently discussing what action they should take. The matter was to be decided for them. From behind a hillock up the trail a band of more than a dozen riders emerged, spurring their mounts madly, and firing as they came.
At the sight of this reinforcement, the Indians, already discouraged by the resistance of the cowboys and the toll the two hidden marksmen were taking, broke and fled. With shouts and wild oaths the newcomers followed, ruthlessly shooting down the runaways. Their leader only did not join in the pursuit. Wheeling his horse, he rode to where the rancher was standing, and got down.
“Well, Eden, I reckon we didn’t come any too soon,” he said.
“I’d lie fer yu hadn’t come a-tall—we could ‘a’ beat ‘em off without yu,” the old man ungraciously retorted. “If yo’re lookin’ for thanks yo’re liable to be disappointed.”
“I ain’t,” Rogue returned dryly. “But if yu warn’t needin’ me, why send?”
“I never did. If Sands came to yu—”
“It warn’t Sands,” the outlaw interposed. “A little runt of a fella, dressed in deerskin an’ wearin’ moccasins; looked like a forest-runner.”
“Ain’t seen him,” the rancher snapped. “I naturally figured Green would use his sidekick.”
“So it was his idea, huh?” Rogue said reflectively, and chuckled. “It would be, o’ course. Where is he?”
“I dunno, an’ I care less,” Eden told him. “I set ‘em adrift when I learned they belong to yu.”
“They don’t—I wish they did,” Rogue admitted. “I could use ‘em, but it looks like they’re still workin’ for the S E.”
“Waitin’ for a chance to carry out yore orders an’ drill me again, I s’pose?” the cattleman sneered.
“I’d no hand in that, Eden; it’s not my way,” the outlaw said sternly. His face hardened. “I could take yore herd right now if I wanted.”
“Yu could take a slug through the gizzard now if I wanted,” the old man growled, gripping his rifle suggestively.
Rogue looked at him in grim amusement. “An’ what would that buy yu? My men, mebbe, ain’t got my respect for youth an’ beauty.”
He removed his hat and bowed, either in real or pretended politeness, as Carol—anxious about her father—appeared. Baudry, who had apparently been to fetch her, was just behind. His eyes met those of the bandit leader for one brief instant -but his face was devoid of expression.
In twos and threes the rescuers were returning, whooping triumphantly, some of them waving ghastly trophies from which the blood dripped redly. They grouped themselves behind Rogue, their cruel, reckless faces alight with the lust of slaughter. The cowboys too rallied round their boss; they did not like the attitude of these men who had come to their aid. Rogue alone seemed unconscious of any tension.
“We seem fated to meet in unpleasant circumstances, Miss Eden,” he said easily, aware that by speaking to her he was rubbing the rancher on a raw place.
“My daughter don’t wanta talk to a rustler,” Eden said.
The girl gazed reproachfully at her angry parent. “He came to our assistance,” she reminded. Her eyes widened as she saw that Rogue’s wrist was torn. “you are hurt,” she went on.
“I’ve some bandages here—I got them ready, in case….”
“It’s on’y a graze—not worth fussin’ over,” the outlaw muttered.
But Carol insisted, and Rogue’s eyes regarded her curiously as she deftly bound up the wound.
“I’m obliged,” he said gruffly.
“I got a scratch too,” Navajo put in, his evil, leering gaze on the girl.
Rogue spun round. “Get to hell outa this,” he hissed and before the deadly menace in tone and look the half-breed fell back.
The outlaw leader stepped into his saddle. “Well, so long, Eden,” he said. “We’ll be seem’ yu. If yu bump into any more trouble, send, an’ we’ll come a-runnin’. This time we couldn’t help ourselves; next time, mebbe we’ll be able to.”
With this meaning jest he signed to his men and rode away, indifferent to the threatening growls which greeted it.
Chapter XXIII
THE herd went on, leaving behind one of the oblong heaps of rock which were only too frequent on the western trails. The rancher was hard to live with during the ensuing days. The loss of one of his men had depressed him; he became moody, savage. The very thought that he had been placed under an obligation to one he despised as an outlaw, who made no secret of his intention to rob him, filled the old frontiersman with fury. He was troubled too with odd doubts in the matter of Green and Sandy.
Baudry also was far from happy, for Carol avoided him as much as possible, and was coldly courteous when she could not. But this, though it put a raw edge on his vanity, was not what most concerned him. It was several days after the Indian attack that he made an opportunity to speak with Dutt alone.
“Well, Monte, yu ain’t lookin’ too peart,” was the greeting he received. “What’s disturbin’ yore rosy dreams?”
“I’ve told you not to use that name,” the gambler growled. “So you are satisfied with the situation, eh?”
“Shore I am. Rogue has got this outfit where we want it, an’ with those two cowboys in the discard, it looks like pie to me.”
“Unless Rogue keeps the cows and sells them himself.”
“At that, we’re on velvet. Eden’s busted an’ we get the S E.”
“And that damned outlaw picks up fifty thousand dollars or more. No, Davy, I’m not standing for that. I offered to take those cows at five a head and I’m going to have them. There’s another danger, the damn fool is turning soft. Did you see his face when Carol tied his wrist up?”
“He certainly didn’t seem
to enjoy it as much as—yu might —for instance.”
“Enjoy it? That was torture for him, it fetched back his past and showed him where he had dropped to. I don’t suppose a good woman has stretched out a hand to him for years. She played a big card then, though she didn’t know it. I was watching him and I tell you I wouldn’t be surprised if he let Eden keep his cows for her sake.”
Dutt was plainly incredulous. “Rogue’s too tough to fall for a skirt,” he said. “An’ his men wouldn’t let him; we can see to it that they don’t.”
The gambler nodded. “Tell Rollitt to find Navajo and warn him. Rogue must steal the herd. Afterwards—we shall see. My share of that fifty thousand would pay for the wedding trip I have in mind, Davy.”
“First catch yore bride,” the other parodied.
“She’ll come to heel, when her father is faced with finding a job,” Baudry said.
“Yo’re probably right, but don’t forget the fella they call Sandy is interested in that quarter.”
The gambler shrugged his shoulders. “That cowboy? He’s easy.”
“Mebbe, but I wouldn’t think it,” Dutt replied. “An’ he’s got a friend—who ain’t.”
“Sudden, no, but if he shows his face in Abilene he’ll be strung up and we’ll split the reward two ways,” Baudry smiled, tapping the pocket containing a certain printed notice.
“Suits me,” Dutt agreed. “I’ll search out Rollitt.”
Camp was being struck and preparations made for the day’s trek when Sudden and his two companions made their appearance, greatly to the astonishment of such of the S E outfit as were present.
For days since the encounter with the redskins they had trailed the herd, watched the crossing of a river which Tyson opined must be the Cimarron, a stream with an evil reputation but which they fortunately found not in flood.
The two cowboys had found the “still-hunter” more than useful. Not only had he kept them well supplied with game, but his knowledge of woodcraft made him an ideal spy on the outlaws. But he had not yet learned when they intended to make the final move. Sudden, however, guessed that the blow could not now be long delayed, and that was why he had ridden in. The rancher received him with a scowl.
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