CHAPTER XIII
THE NIGHT TRAIL
Yeager rode into Los Robles an hour after Harrison and Ruth had left. Heturned in at the Lunar stables the pony Pasquale had so kindly donatedto his use and walked across town to the Seymour bungalow. Passingthrough the garden and round the house, he disappeared without beingseen into the remodeled barn where he lodged.
He felt bully. After an adventure that had been a close call he was backhome among friends who would be glad to see him. As he took his bath andshaved and dressed he broke occasionally into a whistle of sheerexuberant joy of life. He intended to surprise the folks by walking downand taking his place with the others when the dinner bell rang. DaisyEllington would clap her hands and sparkle in her enthusiastic way.Shorty would begin to poke fun at him. Mrs. Seymour would probably justsmile in her slow, motherly fashion and see that he got one of thechoice steaks. And Ruth--would she flash at him her swift dimpled smileof pleasure? Or would she still be harboring malice toward him forhaving warned her against Harrison?
Steve waited until he thought they would be seated before he opened thedoor and stepped into the dining-room. The effect was not at all what hehad expected. Daisy was the first to see him. She dropped her knife onthe plate with a clatter and gave a little scream. Shorty stopped aspoonful of soup halfway to his mouth, as if he were waiting to have astill picture of himself taken. His eyes stared and his jaw fell. Mrs.Seymour, who was bringing a platter from the kitchen, stood stock-stillin the doorway. The expression, on her face arrested Yeager's smile.
"What's the matter with you all? Looks like you were seeing a ghost," hesaid.
"Where did you come from, Steve Yeager?" demanded Mrs. Seymour.
"Me? Why, I came from my room--reached town an hour or so ago."
Something cold clutched at the heart of the mother. "Where from? Weren'tyou in Sonora?"
"Sure I was. At Noche Buena. And I want to tell you that I've had enoughof that burg for quite some time."
Daisy broke in. "Isn't it true that you were shot?"
He turned to her, surprised. "How did you hear that story already. No,it ain't true. I was to have been shot this mawnin', but I broke jailand made a getaway."
"But--your letter said you had shot yourself and couldn't live long. Iread it myself. Mr. Threewit showed it to me before he left."
"And Mr. Harrison told us it was true," corroborated Mrs. Seymour. Sheknew something was wrong, but as yet she could not guess what.
"Harrison! Has he been here?" asked Yeager sharply.
"He and Ruth left this afternoon for Noche Buena. He said you wanted tosee her before you died and he showed us the letter you had written."
The range-rider stood paralyzed. The truth flashed numbingly over hisbrain.
"Ruth--gone with Harrison--to Noche Buena," was all he could say.
Again Daisy cut in, this time sharply. "Tell us your story, Steve. Whatis it that's wrong?"
In a dozen sentences he told it. They listened tensely. The mother wasthe first to break the silence after he had finished. She began to sob.Steve put an arm across her shoulder awkwardly.
"Now, don't you, Mrs. Seymour. Don't you take on. We'll get right on histrail." He turned abruptly to Orman. "Get horses saddled. We'll hit theroad right away. Daisy, call up Threewit and let him know. I'll takeyour gat, Shorty."
The edge of decision was in his voice. Nobody disputed the orders ofthis lean, brown, sunbaked youth with the alert, quiet, masterful eyes.In his manner was something more deadly than threats. More than one ofthose present thought he would not like to be Harrison.
"Mr. Threewit has gone. He and Frank started for Noche Buena almost anhour ago. They went because of your letter," explained Miss Ellington.
"Good. We'll probably catch them. Jackson, find out if they went armedand see that we all have rifles as well as six-guns. Get a move on you.We'll start in ten minutes from the hotel."
Within the stipulated time they were in the saddle. Steve looked hisposse over with an eye competent and vigilant. "Orman, you and Bob ridestraight to the Lazy B. Harrison gave it out he was going to stop therefor the night. Me, I think he was lying. If he hasn't been there, cutacrost to Gila Creek and follow the bed. Jackson and Dan, you gostraight south for the old Pima water-hole and sweep along below theedge of the mesa. I'll have a try more to the east. Mind, no slip-up,boys. And don't forget Harrison wears his guns low. If you have toshoot, aim to kill."
Phil Seymour came running down the road. "What's this they're tellingabout Ruth and Harrison?" he demanded.
Yeager had no time for explanations. He turned the boy over to one ofthe others. "Tell him about it, Jackson. If he wants to go along, takehim with you and Dan. We'll all meet to-morrow noon at Sieber's Pass."
He shot down the road at a gallop, leaving behind him a cloud of graydust. The others followed at a canter. Their horses had to cover manymiles before morning and there was no use in running them off their legsat the start.
Jackson, waiting for Phil to rope and saddle a pony, yelled a caution tothe others.
"Keep yore shirts on, boys. This ain't no hundred-yard dash. Steve'sburnin' the wind because he's got to haid off Harrison from Pasquale'scamp. All we got to do is to drive him up to Steve."
Phil cut out and roped a pony, then slapped on a saddle. Presently heand Jackson were following the others down the dust-filled road.
The boy spoke his fears aloud, endeavoring to reassure himself.
"Chad won't hurt Ruth any. He wouldn't dare. This country won't standfor that kind of a play with a girl. Arizona would hang him to the firsttelegraph pole that was handy."
The cowpuncher looked at him and spoke dryly. "I reckon the skunk's beenout of Arizona quite some time. He's in greaser land now, and I neverheard tell that Pasquale was so darned particular what his men did. Justtie a knot in this: if Harrison reaches the insurrecto camp with yoresister, she'll come back as his wife--or not at all."
"By God! I'll kill Harrison at sight if he hurts a hair of her head,"the boy cried, a lump in his throat.
"Mebbe you will, mebbe you won't. Chad ain't just what you'd call awhite man. He'll shoot out of the chaparral if he's pressed. Someone'sgoing to git hurt if we bump into Mr. Harrison. It won't be no picnica-tall to take him. He's liable to be more hos-tile than a nest ofyellow jackets."
"Leave him to me if we come up with him. I'll shoot it out with him,"the boy cried wildly.
Jackson grinned. "You're crazy with the heat, boy. What do you reckon Ibought chips in this game for? I want a crack at the coyote myself."
Phil and Jackson caught up with old Dan a mile or so beyond the pointwhere the road to the Lazy B left the main traveled trail.
"The other boys hitting the dust for the ranch?" asked Jackson.
"Yep."
"Yeager's got it right. They won't find Harrison there. He'll go throughwith his play. Chad's no quitter."
Dan nodded. He was a reticent man of about fifty-five with a bald headand a face of wrinkled leather.
"We'll git him sure," Phil spoke up, announcing his hope rather than hisconviction. "Steve knows what he's doing, you bet."
Yeager himself was not so sure. Doubts tortured him as to thedestination of Harrison. Perhaps, after all, he might be making for somerefuge in the hills and not for Pasquale's headquarters. He knew that assoon as word reached them the Lazy B riders would begin to comb thedesert in pursuit. But what were a dozen riders among these thousandhill pockets of the desert? The best chance was to catch the man at someone of the few water-holes. But if he pushed on at full speed thechances were all in his favor considering the long start he had.
The range-rider was astride the fastest horse in the Lunar stables.Steve had taken his pick of the mounts, for his work was cut out forhim. Hitherto the luck had all been with Harrison. If Yeager had not metone of the old Lone Star boys, now riding for the Hashknife outfit, andstopped to join him in a long talk over their cigarettes, Steve wouldhave reached Los Robles in time to
spoil the man's plan. Or if he hadgone direct to Mrs. Seymour instead of fooling away a good hour and ahalf in his room, he would have cut down his enemy's start by so muchgolden time.
Now all he could do was to get every foot of speed from his horse thatcould be coaxed. He rode like a Centaur, giving with his lithe, supplebody to every motion of the animal. But though he took steep hillsidesof shale on the run, the pony slithering down in a slide of rubble likea cat, the rider's alert eyes watched the footing keenly. He couldafford if necessary to break a leg himself, but he could not afford tohave the horse suffer such an accident. Not for nothing had he ridden onthe roundup for many years. Few men even in Arizona could havenegotiated safely such a bit of daredevil travel as he was doing thisnight.
His brains were busy, too, on the problem before him. Times anddistances he figured, took into account the animals Harrison and Ruthwere riding, estimated her strength and her companion's feverish hasteto reach safety with her. They would have to stop at a water-holesomewhere, either on Gila Creek, or the old Pima camping-ground, or elseat Lone Tree Spring. The most direct route to Noche Buena was by LoneTree. Harrison was in a deuce of a hurry. Therefore he would choose theshortest way. So Yeager guessed and hoped.
His watch told him it was an hour past midnight when Steve drew closeto Lone Tree Spring. He was following a sandy wash into the soft bed ofwhich the hoofs of his horse sank without noise. They were perhaps twohundred yards from the spring when the ears of his pony lifted. That wasenough for Yeager. He dismounted and trailed the reins, guessing thatthe wind had brought the scent of other horses to his own. Quietly hemoved forward, rifle in hand ready for action.
The heart of him jumped when he caught sight of two picketed horsesgrazing on the bench above. He worked forward with infinite care alongthe bank of the wash till he reached the first of the cottonwoods. Fromhere he could catch a glimpse of something huddled lying under thelive-oak. This no doubt was the sleeping girl. The figure of a heavy-setman stood with his back to Yeager in silhouette against the skyline.
Yeager crawled forward another fifteen yards. A twig snapped under hisknee. The figure in silhouette whirled. Steve rose at the same instant,rifle raised to his shoulder.
"Don't move," he advised quietly.
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