CHAPTER XIII
THE DANCE
A week later, while the outfit was eating supper, Swing Tunstall burstyelling into the bunkhouse. He flung his hat on the floor and thuddedinto his seat.
"Dance!" he whooped, hammering on the table with his knife and fork."Dance! Big dance! Down at the Bend. Next week. Saturday night.They're a-goin' to have it in the hotel. Hooray!"
"Pass him the beans, quick!" shouted Doubleday. "Get him to eatin'before the roof pulls loose. When djuh say it was, Swing?"
"Saturday night, next week. Butter, butter, who's got the grease? An'the canned cow. That's the stuffy. Say, that's gonna be a reg'larelephant of a dance, that is. They's a new girl in town--I seen her.She's stayin' at Mis' Mace's, an' she's as pretty as a royal flush.Miss Kate Saltoun her name is, an' she's from the Bar S down on theLazy River."
"We'll all go," announced Doubleday.
"You bet we will," said Giant Morton. "Swing, where's that necktie o'mine yuh borried last week?--yes, the red one. You know the one Imean. You wanted it so's yuh could make a hit with that hash-slingerat the hotel. Can't fool me, yuh old tarrapin. Where is it?"
"I'll git it for yuh later," gurgled Tunstall, his mouth full. "Idon't guess I lost it. Ca'm yoreself. Giant, ca'm yoreself. What's anecktie?"
"Don't guess yuh've lost it! Well, I like that! I paid a dollar sixbits for that necktie down at the Chicago Store. There ain't anotherlike it in the territory. Ragsdale said so himself. You gimme thatnecktie or I'll pizen yore bronc."
"Goin' to de Bend to-morrow?" inquired Telescope of Loudon, when theywere riding the range the day before the dance.
"I don't guess so. I don't feel just like dancin'. Don't enjoy itlike I used to. Gettin' old, I guess."
"I'm goin', but not to de dance een de hotel. I'm goin' to de dancehall, un I weel play de pokair, too. Ah, I weel have de good tam. W'ynot you come wit' me?"
"Maybe I will. See how I feel to-morrow. I'm goin' to pull my freightnext week sometime. Got an engagement in Farewell in five weeks or so,an' I want to find the little hoss before then."
"We'll fin' heem, you un me. I am ready any tam you say."
That evening Scotty Mackenzie halted Loudon on his way to the bunkhouse.
"Goin' to the dance, Tom?" queried Scotty.
"I'm goin' to the Bend, but no dance in mine."
"Say, you make me sick! Dorothy'll be at that dance, an' yuh'll hurther feelin's if yuh don't go. She'll think yuh don't want to dancewith her or somethin'."
"I can't help what she thinks, can I? I don't have to go to thatdance."
"Yuh don't have to, o' course not, but yuh got to think o' other folks.Why, only day before yesterday when I was at the Bend she was askin'after yuh, an' I told her yuh'd shore see her at the dance."
"Yuh did, did yuh? All right, I'm goin' to the Bend to-morrow with therest o' the boys, but I've got a little poker game in mind. The danceis barred, Scotty."
"Oh, all right. Have it yore own way. I'm only tryin' to help yuhout. Say, Tom, y'ain't still thinkin' o' goin' away, are yuh? Yuh canhave that bay like I said, an' another pony, too, if yuh like. Yuhsee, I want yuh to stay here at the Flyin' M. I'm hard up for men now,an'----"
"Say," interrupted Loudon, on whom a great light had suddenly dawned,"say, is that why yo're so anxious to have me go see Miss Burr, huh?So I'll fall in love with her, an' stay here, huh? Is that it?"
"Why, Tom, o' course not," denied Scotty, indignantly. "I wasn'tthinkin' o' such a thing."
"I ain't none so shore, Scotty. It sounds just like yuh."
"Well, it ain't like me nohow. Yo're wrong, Tom, all wrong as usual.Suit yoreself about the dance, suit yoreself. I got nothin' more tosay. Here's a letter come for yuh to-day."
Scotty handed the letter to Loudon and departed, offended dignity inthe set of his shoulders. The pose was assumed, and Loudon knew it.When next they met, Scotty would reopen his favourite issue as usual.
"Now how did he guess it?" wondered Scotty, gloomily, kicking thepebbles on his way to the office. "How did he guess the truth, I'dlike to know? An' he's goin' away after all! The best man in theoutfit! I got to do somethin', that's a cinch."
Poor Scotty! So must Machiavelli have felt when one of his dearestschemes was upset by some clever Florentine.
Left alone, Loudon tore open the letter. It ran:
Dere frend lowden Id uv rote sooner only Ive been sick fele bad stilsene things fur a weak but I can rite now anyhow. Wel, after you anMackenzy lef in the afternoon Block an the uther fellar rid in. I noedthe uther fellar what stole yore hoss cause he looked just like you sedhed look but the hoss he was ridin wasnt yore hoss he was sumbuddyelses hoss I dunno whoos yet. Wen I sene Block an him I had it allfixed up with the marshul to arest the uther fellar but the hoss wasntyourn it was a bawlface pinto so the marshal couldnt arest him withouta warant. Block an him rode away on the trail to Farewel. Block trideto find out bout you an Scotty and that drummer told him how you anScotty had rid back to the Bend. Wel, I knoked the drummer down anstepped on his face an throwed him into the waterin-troff an kiked himthree times roun the house. I'm lookin out for yore hoss wen I see himI'll let you noe hopin this fines you like it leeves me yore frien DaveSinclair.
Dave Sinclair was the landlord of the hotel in Rocket. Loudon re-readthe letter and swore whole-heartedly. To miss Rufe Cutting by a fewhours! Riding a bald-faced pinto, was he? What had he done withRanger? Loudon went to the bunkhouse in a brown study.
Scotty alone of the Flying M outfit elected to remain at the ranch thenight of the dance. All the others raced into town before sunset. Atthe ford of the Dogsoldier they met the Seven Lazy Seven boys frombeyond the Government Hills. Doubleday greeted Dawson, the Seven LazySeven foreman, with a long wolf-howl. Whooping and yelling, the riderssquattered across the creek and poured into Paradise Bend, thewild-eyed ponies rocketing like jack-rabbits.
It was an expansive evening in the Bend. The corrals were full ofponies bearing on their hips the brands of the Two Bar, TVU, DoubleDiamond K, Wagonwheel, and half-a-dozen other ranches. In the hotelcorral where the Flying M outfit unsaddled, Loudon saw horses belongingto the Barred O and the T up-and-down, which ranches were a score ofmiles southwest of Rocket.
The men of the various outfits circulated rapidly from saloon tosaloon. By midnight many would be drunk. But there were several hoursbefore midnight.
Loudon and Telescope left their comrades lining up at the hotel bar andgravitated to the Three Card. Here they found Jim Mace and Marshal DanSmith, who hailed them both with marked cordiality. They dranktogether, and Jim Mace suggested a little game. Telescope's eyes beganto gleam, and Loudon perceived that his friend was lost to him for thatevening. Loudon was in no mood for poker, so the three prevailed upona gentleman from the Barred O to make a fourth, and retired to an emptytable in the corner of the room. Loudon remained standing at the bar,regarding the rows of bottles on the shelves and gloomily pondering theexigencies of life.
"Cards no good," he reflected. "Dancin' the same. Nothin' goes goodno more. Even licker don't taste like it used to. Guess I better haveanother an' make shore."
He had another. After a time he felt better, and decided to look in atthe dance. From the open windows of the hotel issued sounds ofrevelry--the shuffle and pound of boot-leather and the inspiringstrains of the "Arkansaw Traveller" played by two fiddlers sitting on atable.
Loudon, his hat pulled forward, leaned his chest against a windowsilland peered over the fat shoulders of Mrs. Ragsdale and a freighter'swife, who were enjoying the festivities with such zest that the chairsthey sat in were on the point of collapse.
Kate Saltoun and Dorothy Burr were dancing in the same set. Dawson ofthe Seven Lazy Seven was Kate's partner, and Pete O'Leary swungDorothy. Loudon was struck by the fact that Kate was not smiling. Hermovements, likewise, lacked a certain springiness which was one of hersalient characteristics.
"Somebody must 'a' stepped on her toe," decided Loudon. "Bet she don'tdance with Dawson again."
She didn't. Marshal Dan Smith, perspiring and painfully conscious of ahard shirt and a forest-fire necktie, was her next partner. Loudonwondered why he had not hitherto perceived the marked resemblancebetween Dan Smith and a jack-rabbit. He found himself speculating onKate's reasons for breaking her engagement. As he looked at Kate, herextreme beauty, contrasted with that of the other girls in the room,was striking.
"Kate is certainly a heap good-looker."
Mrs. Ragsdale and the freighter's wife turned sharply and staredopen-mouthed at Loudon. Not till then did that young man realize thathe had voiced aloud his estimate of Kate Saltoun. He fled hurriedly,his skin prickling all over, and dived into the kindly darkness behindthe corral.
"Now I have done it!" he mourned, bitterly, squatting on the ground."Those old tongue-wagglers heard me, an' they'll tell her. I seen itin their faces. What'll she think o' me. Luck! There ain't no suchthing. If all the rocks was tobacco an' all the grasscigarette-papers, I'd be there without a match."
From the hotel drifted thinly the lilt of "Buffalo Girls." A bevy ofconvivial beings in the street were bawling "The Days of Forty-Nine."Across the discordant riot of sound cut the sudden clipping drum of agalloping pony.
"Injuns!" shouted a voice. "Injuns!"
Loudon sprang up and dashed around the corral. In the flare of lightfrom the hotel doorway a dusty man sat a dustier horse. The man washatless, his dark hair was matted with dirt and sweat, and his eyeswere wild.
"Injuns!" cried the dusty man. "Injuns on Hatchet Creek! I want help!"
In thirty seconds there was a fair-sized group surrounding thehorseman. In a minute and a half the group had become a crowd. Upbustled Marshal Dan Smith followed by Telescope Laguerre, Jim Mace, andthe gentleman from the Barred O. Loudon, first on the scene, wasjammed against the rider's stirrup.
"Gents," the dusty man was saying, "my three pardners are a-standin'off the war-whoops in a shack over by Johnson's Peak on Hatchet Creek.There's more'n a hundred o' them feather-dusters an' they'll have mypardners' hair if yuh don't come a-runnin'."
"Johnson's Peak!" exclaimed Jim Mace. "That's fifty mile away!"
"All o' that," assented the dusty man, wearily, without turning hishead. "For God's sake, gents, do somethin', can't yuh? An' gimme afresh hoss."
Already three quarters of his hearers were streaking homeward for theirWinchesters and saddles. The men from the ranches were the last tomove away. No need for them to hurry. The few who had brought riflesto the Bend had left them with their saddles at the various corrals.
Within half an hour the dusty man, mounted on one of the marshal'sponies, was heading a posse composed of every available man in ParadiseBend. Only the marshal and two men who were sick remained behind.
The posse, a column of black and bobbing shapes in the starlight, lopedsteadily. Many of the ponies had travelled twenty and thirty milesthat day, and there were fifty more to pass under their hoofs. Theaverage cow-horse is a hardy brute and can perform miracles of workwhen called upon. Secure in this knowledge, the riders fully intendedto ride out their mounts to the last gasp.
Doubleday and Dawson rode stirrup to stirrup with the man from HatchetCreek. Tailing these three were Loudon, Telescope Laguerre, the BarredO puncher, and Jim Mace.
"How'd yuh get through, stranger?" queried Doubleday.
"I dunno," said the dusty man. "I jus' did. I had to. It was make orbreak. Them war-whoops chased me quite a spell."
"You was lucky," observed Dawson.
"Yo're whistlin' I was. We was all lucky when it comes to that. Wewas at the shack eatin' dinner when they jumped us. S'pose we'd beendown the creek where our claims is at, huh?"
"Yo're hair would shore be decoratin' a Injun bridle," admitted Dawson."But I didn't know there was gold on Hatchet Creek."
"We got four claims," said the dusty man, shortly.
"Gettin' much?"
"We ain't millionaires yet."
"No, I guess not," whispered Jim Mace to Loudon. "I'll gamble thatgravel don't assay a nickel a ton. Been all through them hills, Ihave. I know Hatchet like I do the Dogsoldier. There's no gold there."
"This prospector party says different," muttered Loudon.
"You'll see," sniffed Jim Mace. "Gold on the Hatchet! He's loco!You'll see."
"It's a good thing, stranger," Dawson was saying, "yuh hit the Bendwhen we was havin' a dance. There ain't more'n fifty or sixty mena-livin' reg'lar in the place."
"Well," said the dusty man, "I did think o' headin' for Fort Yardley.But them feather-dusters was in between, so it was the Bend or nothin'.Oh, I knowed I was takin' chances, what with no ranches in between, an'the little hoss liable to go lame on me an' all. It's a long ride,gents. Say, seems like we're a-crawlin' an' a-crawlin' an' gittin'nowheres."
"We're a-gittin' some'ers right lively," corrected Doubleday. "If yorepardners have plenty o' cartridges they'll be a-holdin' out all rightwhen we git there. Don't yuh fret none, stranger."
"I ain't--only--only--well, gents, there was a roarin' passel o' themInjuns."
"Shore, shore, but we'll strike the Hatchet near Tepee Mountain 'roundsun-up, an' from Tepee to Johnson's Peak ain't more'n twentymiles--less, if anythin'."
In the keen light of dawn the pyramidal bulk of Tepee Mountain loomednot six miles ahead. When the sun rose the posse had skirted its baseand was riding along the bank of Hatchet Creek.
And now the dusty man began to display signs of a great nervousness.He fidgeted in his saddle, examined and tried the lever action of hisrifle, and gloomily repeated many times that he believed the possewould arrive too late. As they passed above a cut bank, the dusty man,riding near the edge, dropped his Winchester. The piece slipped overthe edge and splashed into the water fifteen feet below. Swearing, thedusty man rode back to where the bank was lower and dismounted.
"Don't wait for me!" he shouted, wading upstream. "I'll catch up."
The posse rode onward. Some of the horses were staggering withfatigue. All of them were jaded and dripping with sweat. SuddenlyTelescope Laguerre rode from the line and vaulted out of his saddle.He landed on his hands and knees and remained in that position, hishead thrust forward, his eyes blazing with excitement.
"What's eatin' Telescope?" demanded Doubleday.
"Tom! Tom! Come here! Queeck!" shouted the half-breed.
"Say!" snorted Doubleday. "What is this, anyway? Do you fellers knowthere's some Injuns up here a piece?"
But Loudon had joined Telescope and neither of the two gave theslightest heed to the outraged Doubleday.
"Look!" exclaimed Laguerre, as the tail of the column passed. "Look!Yore hoss she come out o' de wood here! See!"
"My hoss! You mean Ranger?" Loudon stared, thunderstruck, at thehoofmarks of two horses.
"Yore hoss, Ranger! Ah, once I see de hoss-track I know heem again!Las' tam you shoe de hoss you shoe heem all 'roun'. Dees ees heestrack. No man was ride heem. She was de led hoss. Feller ride odderhoss. See! Dey come out de wood un go dees way."
Telescope waved a hand over the way they had come.
"How old are the tracks?" queried Loudon, breathlessly.
"Mabbeso four day. No use follow dem. We lose 'em on de hard groun'."
"Telescope, I got an idea somethin's wrong. I dunno what, but thesetracks comin' in here thisaway, an' that fellah with the Injun story--Iguess now they hitch somehow. I tell yuh I dunno how"--as Telescopeopened his mouth to speak--"an' I may be wrong, but I'm goin' backafter that party from Hatchet Creek."
Loudon swung into his saddle and spurred his mount. The animalresponded gamely, but a pitifully slow lope was the best speed it couldshake out of its weary legs. Laguerre's pony was in worse case. Theshort halt had stiffened his knees slightly and he stumbled at everyother step. The two men lolloped jerkily downstream. Rounding a sharpbend, th
ey came in sight of the cut bank where the dusty stranger haddropped his gun. Neither man nor horse was visible.
"By gar!" exclaimed Laguerre. "By gar!"
Just then his horse stumbled for the last time, fell on its knees, androlled over on its side. Laguerre flung himself clear and bounced tohis feet. The pony struggled up, but Laguerre did not remount. Hedragged his rifle from the scabbard and ran forward on foot to rejoinhis comrade. Loudon was leaning over the saddlehorn examining the spotwhere the dusty man had left his horse.
"Ground's kind o' hard," said Loudon, "but it looks like he'd headedfor that flat."
"He go dere all right!" exclaimed Laguerre, excitedly. "Come on, Tom!"
Running awkwardly, for cow-country boots are not fashioned for rapidlocomotion, Laguerre led the way toward a broad meadow fifty yardsaway. Once in the meadow the trail was easier to follow. The meadowwas at least a quarter-mile wide, and woods bordered it on three sides.
The trail led straight across it, and on into the forest. The treesdid not grow thickly, and Laguerre, his eyes on the ground, threadedhis way in and out between the trunks at an ankle-straining trot. Hehad excellent wind, had Telescope Laguerre. Loudon was forced toemploy spurs and quirt in order to keep up with him.
Four hundred yards deep in the forest they saw ahead an opening in thetrees. A minute later they charged into a large meadow. In the middleof the meadow was an ancient shack, doorless, the roof fallen in,flanked by a corral which gave evidence of having been recentlyrepaired.
"Somethin' movin' in that corral," said Loudon, and dragged out his gun.
Then, in half a watch-tick, a man on a chestnut horse flashed acrossthe open space between the corral and the shack. Loudon and Laguerreswung to one side, but the man did not immediately reappear on theother side of the shack. A few steps farther and they saw him. He wasriding directly away from them and was within fifty yards of the forest.
The fugitive was a long two hundred yards distant, but they recognizedhis back without any difficulty. He was the dusty man from HatchetCreek, and his horse was Loudon's Ranger.
"Look out for the hoss!" cried Loudon, as Laguerre flung up his rifle.
The rifle cracked spitefully once and again. The rider, with aderisive yell, disappeared among the trees. Laguerre dropped hisrifle-butt, and began to utter strange and awful oaths in a polyglot ofFrench and English. Loudon sheathed his six-shooter, kicked his feetout of the stirrups, and calmly rolled a cigarette.
"No use a-cussin', Telescope," he observed. "He's done gone."
Pht-bang! a rifle spat from the distant wood. Loudon's horse gave aconvulsive sidewise leap, dropped with a groan and rolled half over,pinning Loudon to the ground. Laguerre, flat on his stomach, wasfiring at the thinning smoke-cloud under the trees. But there were nomore shots from the forest.
"Say, Telescope," called Loudon, "when yuh get plumb through would yuhmind pullin' this cayuse off o' my legs?"
Still cursing, Laguerre levered up the body of the dead pony with thebarrel of his rifle, and Loudon wriggled free. He endeavoured to standon his feet, but sat down abruptly.
"What's de matter?" inquired Laguerre. "Bullet hit you, too?"
"No," replied Loudon, gingerly feeling his right ankle, "my foot feelsfunny."
"Mabbeso de leg broke," suggested Laguerre. "Mabbeso dat feller shetry anudder shot. Better you be behin' de log-house."
He picked up his rifle, helped Loudon to stand erect, and passed an armaround his waist. So, hopping on one foot, Loudon reached the shelterof the shack wall. Laguerre eased him to the ground and skipped nimblydown past the corral.
"Mabbeso I geet dat feller," he called over his shoulder. "Be backsoon."
Laguerre returned in five minutes.
"Dat feller she geet clean away," he said, disconsolately. "Nevairtouch heem. By gar! Eef I not have run so hard, I shoot better. Geetheem shore den."
"Pull my boot off, will yuh, Telescope?" requested Loudon, extendinghis leg.
Laguerre pulled. Loudon gritted his teeth. The pain was sharp,nauseating.
"It's no good," said Loudon, thickly. "Got to cut the boot off."
Laguerre whipped out his knife and slit the leather from instep to top.Gently he removed the boot. Loudon peeled off the sock. The ankle wasbadly swollen.
"Wiggle de toe," commanded Laguerre.
Loudon wriggled his toes and was able to move his ankle slightly, notwithout a deal of pain, however. He noted with thankfulness that thepain was continuous, and not stabbing as it is when a bone is involved.
"Bone's all right," he observed, cheerfully. "Only a sprain, I guess."
"Dat ees good," said Laguerre. "I geet de odder hoss."
He strode to the dead horse and stripped off saddle and bridle.
"Say," said Loudon, "I can do that while yo're goin' for the hoss.We'll have to leave 'em here, anyway."
"No, not dees treep, my frien'," Laguerre said, carrying saddle andbridle toward the corral. "Dat feller she leave Dan Smeet's hoss on deodder side de corral. Hoss she pretty tire', but she carry you allright."
On his hands and knees Loudon crawled to the corral and peered betweenthe bars. The corral was a large one. Till recently the grass hadgrown thickly within it. But that grass had been nibbled to the roots,and the marks of shod hoofs were everywhere. From a spring near theshack a small stream ran through one corner of the corral.
"Slick," said Loudon. "Couldn't have been better, could it?"
"No eet could not," agreed Laguerre. "She feex up dees ole corralfine. Dat Ranger hoss she been here mabbeso four day. She have degrass. She have de watair. She all ready fresh w'en dat feller shecome. Un how can we follow wit' de tire' pony? Oh, she have eetfigure all out. For w'y? Can you tell me dat, Tom?"
"I dunno. It shore is too many for me."
He painfully made his way to the spring, drank, and then soaked hissprained ankle in the icy stream till Laguerre came to help him intothe saddle.
On the bank of the Hatchet they found Laguerre's pony lying where ithad fallen. The animal was not dead. It was sound asleep.
"Hear dat?" said Laguerre, late in the afternoon.
Loudon listened. From afar off came a buzzing murmur. It grew louderand louder.
"The boys are some het up," observed Loudon.
The posse straggled into view. The boys were "het up." They were alltalking at once. Evidently they had been talking for some time, andthey were full of their subject. At sight of Loudon and his bootlessleg the clamour stilled.
"Hit bad, Tom?" called Doubleday.
"Hoss fell on me," explained Loudon. "Yuh don't have to say nothin',Doubleday," he added, as the foreman dismounted beside him. "I knowjust what happened."
"Oh, yuh do, do yuh?" snorted Doubleday, wrathfully. "I might 'a'knowed there was somethin' up when that gent an' you fellers didn'tcatch up. An' us ridin' our heads off from hell to breakfast! Why,we'd be combin' this country yet only we met some o' the cavalry fromFort Yardley an' they said there ain't been an Injun off thereservation for a month. They shore give us the laugh. ----! That'shis hoss! Did yuh get him?"
"We did not. The fellah got away nice as yuh please on my hossRanger--yep, the hoss Rufe Cutting stole in the Bend. Gimme themakin's, somebody, an' I'll tell yuh what happened."
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