CHAPTER XII
TEX DOES SOME SCOUTING
The moon hung low over the peaks to the westward when the Texan openedhis eyes. For some moments he stared about him in bewilderment, hisgaze travelling slowly from the slicker-clad form of the girl, who satclose beside him with her face buried in her arms, to the little groupof horses that stood huddled dejectedly together. With an effort hestruggled to his elbow, and at the movement, the girl raised her headand turned a very white face toward him.
Shivering with cold, the Texan raised himself to a sitting posture."Where's Bat?" he asked. "An' why ain't he onsaddled those horses, an'built a fire? I'm froze stiff."
"Bat has gone to--to find Winthrop," answered the girl, with a painfulcatch in her voice. "He wouldn't wait, and I had no matches, and yourswere all wet, and I couldn't loosen the cinches."
Tex passed his hand over his forehead, as if trying to remember, andhis fingers prodded tenderly at his jaw. "I recollect bein' in thewater, an' the pilgrim was there, an' we were scrappin' an' he punchedme in the jaw. He carries a whallop up his sleeve like the kick of amule. But what we was scrappin' about, an' where he is now, an' how Icome here, is somethin' I don't savvy."
Step by step the girl detailed what had happened while the Texanlistened in silence. "And now," she concluded, "he's gone. Justwhen--" her voice broke and once more she buried her face in her arms.Tex saw that she was sobbing silently. He felt for his "makings" anddrew from his pocket a little sack of soggy tobacco and some wetpapers. He returned them to his pocket and rose to his feet.
"You're cold," he said softly. "There's dry matches in the pack. I'llmake a fire an' get those wet saddles off the horses."
Alice did not look up and the man busied himself with the pack. A fewminutes later she felt his fingers upon her shoulder. He pointedtoward a fire that crackled cheerfully from the depths of a bull pinethicket. "I fixed you up a shelter tent and spread your blankets. Thetarp kep' 'em tolerable dry. Go over there an' get off those clothes.You must be wet through--nothin' short of a divin' suit would have kep'that rain out!"
"But----"
He forestalled the objection. "There won't be any one to bother you.I'm goin' down the creek."
The girl noticed that his horse, saddled with Endicott's saddle stoodclose behind her.
"I didn't mean that!" she exclaimed. "But you are cold--chilled to thebone. You need the fire more than I do."
The man shook his head: "I'll be goin' now," he said. "You'd bettermake you some coffee."
"You're going to--to----"
Tex nodded: "Yes. To find the pilgrim. If he's alive I'll find him.An' if he ain't I'll find him. An' when I do, I'll bring him back toyou." He turned abruptly, swung onto his horse, and Alice watched himas he disappeared down the valley, keeping to the higher ground. Notuntil she was alone did the girl realize how miserably cold anduncomfortable she was. She rose stiffly, and walking slowly to theedge of the bank, looked out over the little valley. The greatreservoir had run out in that first wild rush of water and now the lastrays of moonlight showed only wide, glistening pools, and the creeksubsided to nearly its normal proportions. With a shudder she turnedtoward the fire. Its warmth felt grateful. She removed the slickerand riding costume and, wrapping herself, squaw-like, in a blanket, satdown in the little shelter tent. She found that the Texan had filledthe coffee pot and, throwing in some coffee, she set it to boil.
"He's so thoughtful, and self-reliant, and--and competent," shemurmured. "And he's brave, and--and picturesque. Winthrop is brave,too--just as brave as he is, but--he isn't a bit picturesque." Sherelapsed into silence as she rummaged in the bag for a cup, and thesugar, and a can of milk. The moon sank behind the ridge and the girlreplenished her fire from the pile of wood the Texan had left withinreach of her hand. She drank her coffee and her eyes sought topenetrate the blackness beyond the firelight. Somewhere out there inthe dark--she shuddered as she attempted to visualize _what_ wassomewhere out there in the dark. And then a flash of memory broughtwith it a ray of hope that cheered her immeasurably. "Why, he was achampion swimmer in college," she said aloud. "He was always winningcups and things. And he's strong, and brave--and yet----" Vividly toher mind came the picture of the wildly rushing flood with its burdenof tossing trees, and the man being swept straight into the gurge ofit. "I'll tell him he's brave--and he'll spoil it all by saying thatit was the only _practical_ thing to do." "Oh," she cried aloud, "Icould love him if it were not for his deadly practicability--even if Ishould have to live in Cincinnati." And straightway fell to comparingthe two men. "Tex is absurdly unconventional in speech and actions,and he has an adorable disregard for laws and things. He's just a big,irresponsible boy--and yet, he makes you feel as if he always knewexactly what to do and how to do it. And he is brave, too, with areckless, devil-may-care sort of bravery that takes no thought of costor consequences. He knew, when he let go his bridle reins, that hecouldn't swim a stroke--and he smiled and didn't care. And he's gentleand considerate, too." She remembered the look in his eyes when hesaid: "You are cold," and blushed furiously.
It seemed hours she sat there staring into the little fire andlistening for sounds from the dark. But the only sounds that came toher were the sounds of the feeding horses, and in utter weariness shelay back with her head upon a folded blanket, and slept.
When the Texan swung onto his horse after having made the girlcomfortable for her long vigil, a scant half-hour of moonlight was leftto him. He gave the horse his head and the animal picked his way amongthe loose rocks and scrub timber that capped the ridge. When darknessovertook him he dismounted, unsaddled, and groped about for firewood.Despite its recent soaking the resinous bull pine flared up at thetouch of a match, and with his back to a rock-wall, the cowboy sat andwatched the little flames shoot upward. Once more he felt for his"makings" and with infinite pains dried out his papers and tobacco.
"It's the chance I be'n aimin' to make for myself," he mused, as hedrew the grey smoke of a cigarette deep into his lungs, "to get Bat an'the pilgrim away--an' I ride off and leave it." The cigarette wasconsumed and he rolled another. "Takin' a slant at himself from theinside, a man kind of gets a line on how damned ornery folks can get.Purdy got shot, an' everyone said he got just what was comin' tohim---- Me, an' everyone else--an' he did. But when you get down tocases, he wasn't no hell of a lot worse'n me, at that. We was bothafter the same thing--only his work was coarser." For hours the mansat staring into his fire, the while he rolled and smoked manycigarettes.
"Oh, hell!" he exclaimed, aloud. "I can't turn nester, an' even if Idid, she couldn't live out in no mud-roof shack in the bottom of somecoulee! Still, she---- There I go again, over the same old trail.This here little girl has sure gone to my head--like a couple of joltsof hundred-proof on an empty stummick. Anyhow, she's a damn sightsafer'n ever she was before, an'--I'll bet the old man _would_ let metake that Eagle Creek ranch off his hands, an' stake me to a littlebunch of stock besides, if I went at him right. If it wasn't for thatdamn pilgrim! Bat was right. He holds the edge on me--but he's aman." The cowboy glanced anxiously toward the east where the sky wasbeginning to lighten with the first hint of dawn. He rose, trampledout his fire, and threw the saddle onto his horse. "I've got to findhim," he muttered, "if Bat ain't found him already. I don't know muchabout this swimmin' business but if he could have got holt of a tree orsomethin' he might have made her through."
Now riding, now dismounting to lead his horse over some particularlyrough outcropping of rocks, or through an almost impenetrable tangle ofscrub, the man made his way over the divide and came down into thevalley amid a shower of loose rock and gravel, at a point some distancebelow the lower end of the canyon.
The mountains were behind him. Only an occasional butte reared itshead above the sea of low foothills that stretched away into the badlands to the southward. The sides of the valley flattened and becameill-defined. Low ridges and sage-topped foothill
s broke up itscontinuity, so that the little creek that started so bravely from themountains ended nowhere, its waters being sucked in by the parched andthirsting alkali soil long before it reached the bad lands.
As his horse toiled ankle-deep in the soft whitish mud, Tex's eyesroved over the broadened expanse of the valley. Everywhere wereevidences of the destructive force of the flood. Uprooted treesscattered singly and in groups, high-flung masses of brush, hay, andinextricably tangled barbed-wire from which dangled fence-posts markedevery bend of the creek bed. And on every hand the bodies of drownedcattle dotted the valley.
"If I was Johnson," he mused, as his eyes swept the valley, "I'd head aright smart of ranch hands down here heeled with a spade an' a sexton'scommission. These here late lamented dogies'll cost him somethin' indamages." From force of habit the man read the brands of the deadcattle as he rode slowly down the valley. "D bar C, that's old DaveCromley's steer. An' there's a T U, an' an I X cow, an' there's one ofCharlie Green's, an' a yearlin' of Jerry Keerful's, an' aquarter-circle M,--that belongs over the other side, they don't need tobother with that one, an' there's a----"
Suddenly he drew himself erect, and rising to stand in the stirrups,gazed long and intently toward a spot a quarter of a mile below, wherea thin column of smoke curled over the crest of a low ridge. Abruptlyhe lost interest in the brands of dead cattle and headed his horse at arun toward a coulee, that gave between two sage covered foothills onlya short distance from the faint column of smoke. "That might be Bat,an' then again it mightn't," he muttered. "It can't be the pilgrimwithout Bat's along, 'cause he wouldn't have no dry matches. An' ifit's any one else--" he drew up sharply in the shelter of a thicket,dismounted, and made his way on foot to the summit of the ridge.Removing his hat, he thrust his head through a narrow opening betweentwo sage bushes, and peered into the hollow beyond. Beside a littlefire sat Bat and the pilgrim, the latter arrayed in a suit of underwearmuch abbreviated as to arms and legs, while from the branches of abroken tree-top drawn close beside the blaze depended a pair ofmud-caked trousers and a disreputably dirty silk shirt. The Texanpicked his way down the hill, slipping and sliding in the soft mud.
"Breakfast about ready?" he asked, with a grin.
"Breakfas'! _Voila_! A'm lak' A'm got som' breakfas', you bet!Me--A'm gon' for cut de chonk of meat out de dead steer but de pilgrimsay: '_Non_, dat bes' we don' eat de damn drownded cattle--dat betterwe sta've firs'!"
Tex laughed: "Can't stand for the drownded ones, eh? Well I don't knowas I blame you none, they might be some soggy." Reaching into hisshirt-front he produced a salt bag which he tossed to Endicott."Here's some sinkers I fetched along. Divide 'em up. I've et. Itain't no great ways back to camp----"
"How is she--Miss Marcum? Did she suffer from the shock?"
"Nary suffer. I fixed her up a camp last night back in the timberwhere we all landed, an' then came away."
"She spent the night alone in the timber!" cried Endicott.
The Texan nodded. "Yes. There ain't nothin' will bother her. Ijudged it to be the best way." Endicott's hand shot out and thecowboy's met it in a firm grip. "I reckon we're fifty-fifty on that,"he said gravely. "How's the swimmin'?"
Endicott laughed: "Fine--only I didn't have to do a great deal of it.I staged a little riding contest all my own, part of the way on a deadcow, and the rest of it on this tree-trunk. I didn't mind that part ofit--that was fun, but it didn't last over twenty minutes. After thetree grounded, I had to tramp up and down through this ankle-deep mudto keep from freezing. I didn't dare to go any place for fear ofgetting lost. I thought at first, when the water went down I wouldfollow back up the valley, but I couldn't find the sides and after oneor two false starts I gave it up. Then Bat showed up at daylight andwe managed to build a fire." Endicott divided the biscuits andproceeded to devour his share.
Tex rolled a cigarette. "Say," he drawled, when he had lighted it witha twig from the fire, "what the hell did you whallop me in the jaw for?I seen it comin' but I couldn't dodge, an' when she hit--it seemed likeI was all tucked away in my little crib, an' somewhere, sweet voiceswas singin'."
"I had to do it," laughed Endicott. "It was that, or both of us goingto the bottom. You were grabbing for my arms and legs."
"I ain't holdin' it against you," grinned Tex. "The arms an' legs isyours, an' you're welcome to 'em. Also I'm obliged to you forpermittin' me to tarry a spell longer on this mundane spear, as thefellow says, even if I can't chew nothin' harder'n soup."
"Would you mind rolling me a cigarette," grinned Endicott, as hefinished the last of the biscuits. "I never tried it, and I am afraidI would bungle the job." Without hesitation the Texan complied, deftlyinterposing his body so that the pilgrim could not see that the tobaccohe poured into the paper was the last in his sack. He extended thelittle cylinder. "When you get that lit, you better crawl into themclothes of yours an' we'll be hittin' the back-trail. Out here in theopen ain't no place for us to be."
Endicott surveyed his sorry outfit with disfavour. "I would ratherstick to the B.V.D.'s, if it were practical."
"B.V.D., B.V.D.," repeated the Texan. "There ain't no such brand onthis range. Must be some outfit south of here--what did you say aboutit?"
"I said my B.V.D.'s," he indicated his under-garments; "these would bepreferable to those muddy trousers and that shirt."
"Oh, that's the brand of your longerie. Don't wear none myself, exceptin winter, an' then thick ones. I've scrutinized them kind, though,more or less thorough--hangin' on lines around nesters' places an' homeranches, when I'd be ridin' through. Never noticed none with B.V.D. on'em, though. The brand most favoured around here has got XXXX FLOURprinted acrost the broad of 'em, an' I've always judged 'em asbelongin' to the opposin' sect."
Endicott chuckled as he gingerly arrayed himself in the damp garmentsand when he was dressed, Tex regarded him quizzically: "Them belongin'sof yourn sure do show neglect, Win." Endicott started at the word. Itwas the first time any one had abbreviated his name, and instantly heremembered the words of Alice Marcum: "If you keep on improving someday somebody is going to call you Win." He smiled grimly. "I must beimproving," he muttered, under his breath, "I would pass anywhere for atramp." From beyond the fire Tex continued his scrutiny, the while hecommuned with himself: "Everything's fair, et cetry, as the fellowsays, an' it's a cinch there ain't no girl goin' to fall no hell of aways for any one rigged out like a last year's sheepherder. But, damnit! he done me a good turn--an' one that took guts to do. 'Tain't nouse in chasin' the devil around the stump---- If I can get that girlI'm a-goin' to get her! If I do I'll wire in some creek an' turnnester or do any other damned thing that's likewise mean an' debasin'that she wants me to--except run sheep. But if the pilgrim's got theedge, accordin' to Bat's surmise, he's got it fair an' square. Thecards is on the table. It's him or me for it--but from now on thegame's on the level."
Aloud he said: "Hope you don't mind havin' your name took in vain likeI done, but it's a habit of mine to get names down to a workin' basiswhen I've got to use 'em frequent. Bat, there, his folks started himoff with a name that sounded like the Nicene Creed, but we bobbed herdown for handy reference, an' likewise I ain't be'n called Horatiosince the paternal roof-tree quit sproutin' the punitive switch. But,to get down to cases, you fellows have got to hike back to the camp an'hole up 'til dark. There's bound to be someone ridin' this here couleean' you got to keep out of sight. I'm goin' to do a little scoutin',an' I'll join you later. It ain't only a couple of miles or so an' youbetter hit for the high ground an' cross the divide. Don't risk goin'through the canyon."
Endicott glanced apprehensively at his mud encased silk socks, the feetof which were already worn through in a dozen places.
"Where's your slippers!" asked Tex, catching the glance.
"My shoes? I threw them away last night before I took to the water."
"It's just as well. They wasn't any good anyhow. The ground's softwith the ra
in, all you got to watch out for is prickly pears an'rattlesnakes. You'll be close to camp before the rocks get bad an'then Bat can go hunt up your slippers an' fetch 'em out to you." TheTexan started for his horse. At the top of the ridge he turned: "I'llstop an' tell her that you'll be along in a little bit," he called, andswinging into the saddle, struck off up the creek.
The habitual cynical smile that curled his lips broadened as he rode."This here Johnson, now, he likes me like he likes a saddle-galdedboil, ever since I maintained that a rider was hired to ride, an' notto moil, an' quit his post-hole-diggin', hay-pitchin', tea-drinkin'outfit, short-handed. I ain't had no chance to aggravate him realgood, outside of askin' him how his post-holes was winterin' through,when I'd meet up with him on the trail, an' invitin' him to go over tothe Long Horn to have a snort of tea, a time or two, down to WolfRiver."
At the up-slanting bank where they had sought refuge from the valley hedismounted, wrenched his own saddle out of the mud, and examined thebroken cinch. "If the pilgrim hadn't saved me the trouble, I'd of surehad to get Purdy for that," he muttered, and looked up to encounter theeyes of the girl, who was watching him from the top of the bank. Herface was very white, and the sight stirred a strange discomfort withinhim. "I bet she wouldn't turn no such colour for me, if I'd be'ndrowned for a week," he thought, bitterly.
"You--didn't find him?" The words came with an effort.
The Texan forced a smile: "I wouldn't have be'n here if I hadn't. Orrather Bat did, an' I found the two of 'em. He's all to the mustardan' none the worse for wear, except his clothes--they won't never lookquite the same, an' his socks need mendin' in sixty or seventy spots.They'll be along directly. You run along and fix 'em up some breakfastan' keep out of sight. I'm goin' to do a little scoutin' an', maybe,won't be back 'til pretty near dark."
"But you! Surely, you must be nearly starved!" The relief thatflashed into her face at the news of Endicott's safety changed tosincere concern.
"I ain't got time, now."
"Please come. The coffee is all ready and it won't take but a minuteto fry some bacon."
The Texan smiled up at her. "If you insist," he said. The girlstarted in surprise at the words, and the man plunged immediately intothe vernacular of the cow-country as he followed her into the timber."Yes. A cup of Java wouldn't go bad, but I won't stop long. I want tokind of circulate along the back-trail a ways to see if we're bein'followed." He took the cup of coffee from her hand and watched as shesliced the bacon and threw it into the frying pan. "Did you everfigure on turnin' nester?" he asked abruptly.
The girl looked at him inquiringly: "Nester?" she asked. "What's anester?"
Tex smiled: "Nesters is folks that takes up a claim an' fences off acreek somewheres, an' then stays with it 'til, by the grace of God,they either starve to death, or get rich."
Alice laughed: "No, I never thought of being a nester. But it would beloads of fun. That is, if----"
The Texan interrupted her almost rudely: "Yes, an' if they didn't, itwould just naturally be hell, wouldn't it?" He gulped down the last ofhis coffee, and, without waiting for the bacon, strode out of thetimber, mounted his horse, and rode away.
At the reservoir site he drew rein and inspected the ruineddirt-and-rock dam. Fresh dirt, brush, and rock had already been dumpedinto the aperture, and over on the hillside a group of men was busyloading wagons. He let himself into the ranch enclosure, rode past thebunk-house and on toward the big house that sat well back from theother buildings in the centre of a grove of trees. A horse stoodsaddled beside the porch, and through the open door Tex could hear aman's voice raised in anger: "Why in hell ain't it ready? You might ofknowed I'd want it early today, havin' to git out at daylight! Youwouldn't give a damn if I never got nothin' to eat!" The door bangedviciously cutting off a reply in a woman's voice, and a man strodeacross the porch, and snatched up the reins of the waiting horse.
"What's the matter, Johnson, your suspenders galdin' you this mornin'?"
The man scowled into the face of the cow-puncher who sat regarding himwith an irritating grin.
"What do you want around here? If you want a job go turn your horseinto the corral an' git out there an' git to work on that resevoy."
"No, Johnson, I don't want a job. I done had one experience with thisoutfit, an' I fired you for a boss for keeps."
"Get offen this ranch!" roared the man, shaking a fist, and advancingone threatening step, "or I'll have you throw'd off!"
Tex laughed: "I don't aim to stick around no great while. Fact is, I'min somethin' of a hurry myself. I just stopped in to give you a chanctto do me a good turn. I happened to be down this way an': 'there'sJohnson,' I says to myself, 'he's so free an' open-handed, a man'swelcome to anything he's got,' so I stopped in."
The ranchman regarded him with an intent scowl: "'Sth' matter with you,you drunk?"
"Not yet. But I got a friend out here in the hills which he's lost hisslippers, an' tore his pants, an' got his shirt all dirty, an' mislaidhis hat; an' knowin' you'd be glad to stake him to an outfit I comeover, him bein' about your size an' build."
The ranchman's face flushed with anger: "What the hell do I care aboutyou an' your friends. Git offen this ranch, I tell you!"
"Oh, yes, an' while you're gettin' the outfit together just you slip ina cinch, an' a quart or two of _hooch_, case we might get snake-bit."
Beside himself with rage, the man raised his foot to the stirrup. Asif suddenly remembering something he paused, lowered his foot, andregarded the cowboy with an evil leer: "Ah-ha, I've got it now!" hemoved a step nearer. "I was at the dance night before last to WolfRiver." He waited to note the effect of the words on his hearer.
"Did you have a good time? Or did the dollar you had to shell out forthe ticket spoil all the fun?"
"Never mind what kind of a _time_ I had. But they's plenty of us knowsyou was the head leader of the gang that took an' lynched that pilgrim."
"That's right," smiled the man coolly. "Beats the devil, how thingsgets spread around, don't it? An' speakin' of news spreading thatway--I just came up the creek from down below the canyon. You musthave had quite a bit of water in your reservoir when she let go,Johnson, judgin' by results."
"What do you mean?"
"You ain't be'n down the creek, then?"
"No, I ain't. I'm goin' now. I had to git the men to work fixin' thedam."
"What I mean is this! There's about fifty head of cattle, more orless, that's layin' sprinkled around on top of the mud. Amongst whichI seen T U brands, and I X, an' D bar C, an' quite a few nester brands.When your reservoir let go she sure raised hell with other folks'property. Of course, bein' away down there where there ain't anyfolks, if I hadn't happened along it might have been two or three weeksbefore any one would have rode through, an' you could have run a bunchof ranch hands down an' buried 'em an' no one would have be'n anywiser----"
"You're lyin'!" There was a look of fear in the man's eyes,
Tex shrugged: "You'll only waste a half a day ridin' down to see foryourself," he replied indifferently.
Johnson appeared to consider, then stepped close to the Texan's side:"They say one good turn deserves another. Meanin' that you shet upabout them cattle an' I'll shet up about seein' you."
"That way, it wouldn't cost you nothin' would it, Johnson? Well, it'sa trade, if you throw in the aforementioned articles of outfit Ispecified, to boot."
"Not by a damn sight! You got the best end of it the way it is.Lynchin' is murder!"
"So it is," agreed the Texan. "An' likewise, maintainin' weakreservoirs that lets go an' drowns other folks' cattle is a publicnuisance, an' a jury's liable to figger up them damages kind ofhigh--'specially again' you, Johnson, bein' ornery an' rotten-hearted,an' tight-fisted, that way, folks don't like you."
"It means hangin' fer you!"
"Yes. But it means catchin' first. I can be a thousan' miles awayfrom here, in a week, but you're different. All they got to
do is grabthe ranch, it's good for five or six thousan' in damages, all right.Still if you don't want to trade, I'll be goin'." He gathered up hisreins.
"Hold on! It's a damned hold-up, but what was it you wanted?"
The Texan checked off the items on his gloved fingers: "One pair ofpants, one shirt, one hat, one pair of boots, same size as yourn, onepair of spurs, one silk muffler, that one you've got on'll do, onecinch, half a dozen packages of tobacco, an' one bottle of whiskey.All to be in good order an' delivered right here within ten minutes.An' you might fetch a war-bag to pack 'em in. Hurry up now! 'Cause ifyou ain't back in ten minutes, I'll be movin' along, an' when I passthe word to the owners of them cattle it's goin' to raise theirasperity some obnoxious."
With a growl the man disappeared into the house to return a few minuteslater with a sack whose sides bulged.
"Dump 'em out an' we'll look 'em over!" ordered the Texan and the mancomplied.
"All right. Throw 'em in again an' hand 'em up."
When he had secured the load by means of his pack strings he turned tothe rancher.
"So long, Johnson, an' if I was you I wouldn't lose no time inattendin' to the last solemn obsequies of them defunk dogies. I'llnever squeal, but you can't tell how soon someone else might comea-ridin' along through the foot-hills."
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