CHAPTER XXIII: THE ESCAPE
The afternoon wore away slowly, the two men realising more and moreclearly the nature of the siege. Their only safety lay in theprotection of the rocks, as they were now entirely surrounded, andfired upon from either bank the moment either raised a head. Noattempt was made, however, to assault their position, nor did theyoften return the fire, desiring to preserve for future use their smallsupply of ammunition. Brennan remained watchful, but silent, broodingover his plans for the night, but Westcott became overpowered byfatigue and slept quietly for several hours.
The sun was already sinking behind the range of mountains when hefinally aroused himself, and sat up. There was no apparent change inthe situation; the running water murmured musically against the rocks,the distant banks, already in shadow, exhibited no sign of humanpresence. Below in the distance was the deserted street of the town,and farther away a few of the shacks were visible. The scene waspeaceable enough, and the awakened sleeper could scarcely comprehendthat he was in truth a fugitive being hunted for his life, that allabout him were men eager to kill, watchful of the slightest movement.It was rather the sight of Brennan which restored his faculties, andyielded clear memory. The latter greeted him with a good-humoured grin.
"Well, do you feel better, Jim?" he asked pleasantly. "Thought I'd letyou sleep as long as I could, for we've got some job ahead of us.Sorry thar ain't no breakfast waitin', fer I wouldn't object ter a bito' ham bone myself. I reckon if Lacy coops me up yere much longer,he's liable ter win his bet; I'm plumb near starved out already."
"I'm afraid they've got us, Dan."
"Oh, I don't know; leastwise I ain't put up no white flag yet. You'regame fer a try at gettin' out o' yere, ain't yer, old man? I've sorterbeen reckonin' on yer."
"I'll take any chance there is," returned Westcott heartily, staringinto the other's face. "Have you some plan?"
"Maybe 'tain't that exactly, but I've been doin' a powerful lot o'thinkin' since you was asleep, Jim, an' I reckon we might beat thesefellers with a fair show o' luck. This is how I figure it out. Tharwon't be no attack; that's a cinch. Lacy knows we can shoot, an' healso knows we're marooned yere without food. The easiest thing is terstarve us out."
"But there are good men in this camp, law abiding men," interrupted theminer. "What about them? Won't they take a hand?"
"Maybe they might if I was free ter get 'em together; but I ain't.Most o' 'em are out in the mines anyway; they don't know which party isright in this rumpus, an' they ain't got no leader. Lacy runs thetown, an' he's got a big gang o' toughs behind him. There ain't nobodywants to buck up against his game. Of course the boys might get madafter a while, but I reckon we'd be starved plumb ter death long aforethat happened. An' that ain't the worst ov it, Jim--the sheriff isLacy's man. I wouldn't never dare turn you over ter him--not by ajugful."
"Then we are blocked at every turn."
"We sure are, unless we can dig out ourselves," gravely. "My notion isto get a fair start, drift out into Shoshone, whar we'll leave notrail, an' then hit for over the line. Sam Watts is sheriff ofCoconino, an' he'd give us a square deal."
"On foot?"
"Hell, no! I ain't no such walker as all that. Come over yere; keepyer head down; now look out between these two rocks. Do yer see themcow-ponies hitched ter the rack alongside o' the Red Dog? Well,they've been thar fer a matter o' three hours, I reckon, an' theirriders ain't liable ter leave as long as thar's any excitement in town.They're XL men, and mostly drunk by this time. It's my aim ter get aleg over one o' them animals. How does that notion strike you?"
Westcott shook his head doubtfully, his eyes still on those distantspecks. The prospect looked practically hopeless.
"You don't think it can be done? Well now listen. Here's my scheme,an' I reckon it'll work. Naturally Lacy will think we'll try to getaway--make a break for it in the dark. He'll have both them banksguarded, an' ther fellers will have orders ter shoot. He'd rather haveus dead than alive. But, to my notion, he won't expect us ter try anygetaway before midnight. Anyhow, that's how I'd figure if I was in hisplace. But my idea is to pull one off on him, an' start the minute itgets dark enough, so them lads can't see what's goin' on out yere."
"We'll fight our way through?"
"Not a fight, my son; we'll make it so softly that not a son-of-a-gunwill ever know how it happened. When they wake up we'll be twentymiles out in the desert, an' still a goin'. Thar's a big log clingingter the upper end o' the rock. I saw it when I fust come over; an''bout an hour ago I crept back through that gully an' took a good look.A shove will send it floatin'. An' with a good pair o' legs to steerwith, thar ain't nuthin' to stop it this side the curve, an' I don'tcalculate any o' the rifle brigade will be down as fur as that--do you?"
"Not likely," and Westcott measured the distance with eyes that hadlost their despondency. "Your idea is that we drift past under coverof the log?"
"Sure. We'll tie our guns an' cartridges on top, where they'll be outo' water, an' keep down below ourselves. Them fellers may glimpse thelog an' blaze away, but 'tain't likely they'll have luck enough to hiteither one o' us, an' the flare will show 'em it's only a log, an'they'll likely quit an' pass the word along. It sounds blame good terme, Jim; what d'ye say?"
Westcott's hand went out, and the fingers of the two men claspedsilently. There was no need for more speech; they understood eachother.
The night closed down swiftly, as it does in the West, the purple ofthe hills becoming black as though by some magic. There was a heavycloud hanging in the Western sky, constantly sweeping higher in pledgeof a dark night. The banks of the stream became obscured, and finallyvanished altogether; while the water ceased to glimmer and turned to aninky blackness. Lights twinkled in the distant shacks, and the frontof the Red Dog burst into illumination. The saloon was too far awayfor the watchers to pick out the moving figures of men, but Brennanchuckled, and pointed his finger at the glare.
"Lacy ain't fergettin' the profit in all this," he whispered hoarsely."The boys are goin' ter be dry, an' he'll sell 'em all theywant--wouldn't mind if I had some myself. Is it dark enough, mate?"
"The sooner the better!"
"That's my ticket. Come on then, but don't make a sound; them lads aremore liable to hear than they are to see us. Let me go first."
The log was at the other end of the little island, but there was aconsiderable rift in the rock surface, not deep, but of sufficientwidth to permit the passage of a body. The jagged stone made the wayrough in the dark, and Westcott found himself at the upper extremity,gashed and bruised by the contact.
Brennan had already lowered himself into the water, assisted in thedownward climb by some low, tough bushes whose tendrils clungtenaciously to the smooth rock. Westcott followed silently, and foundfooting in about three feet of water, where it swirled around the baseof the island. From this low point, their eyes close to the surface ofthe stream, the men could dimly discern the shore lines silhouettedagainst the slightly lighter sky. They crouched there in deep shadow,but discovered no evidence that their effort at escape had beenobserved. A dog was barking somewhere not far away, and once there wasa rustle along the nearer bank, as though a man wormed his waycautiously through the thick chaparral. But this sound also ceasedafter a moment, and all was still. Brennan put his lips close to hiscompanion's ear.
"Got yer cartridges tied up? That's all right; hand 'em over. Nowgive me your belt. No; pass the end under the log an' buckle it; nottoo tight. You hang on to the outside, an' I'll push off. If yer haveter paddle ter keep in the current don't let yer hands er feet come tothe surface--understand?"
"Certainly."
"All right then; are you all set? Holy smoke, this is going to be someyacht ride."
The log did not even grate as it loosened its slight hold on the rock,and began the voyage down-stream. The current was swift enough to bearit and its burden free from the island, although it moved slowly andnoisele
ssly on its way. The two men deeply emerged on either side,with heads held rigid against the wet bark, were indistinguishable.Out from the deeper shadow of the rock they drifted into the widerstream below, Brennan gently controlling the unwieldy affair, andkeeping it as nearly as possible to the centre, by the noiselessmovement of a hand under water. The men scarcely ventured to breatheand it seemed as though they were ages slowly sidling along, barelyable to perceive that they really moved. They must have gone a hundredyards or more before there was any alarm. Then a voice spoke from thebank to the right, followed almost instantly by the flash of a gun anda sharp report. The flare lit up the stream, and the bullet thuddedinto the log, without damage.
"What was it, Jack?" the voice unmistakably Lacy's. "Did you seesomething?"
"Nothin' but a floatin' log," was the disgusted reply, "but I made abull's-eye."
"That's better than you did any time before to-day. Where is it? Oh,yes, I see the blame thing now. You don't need ter be any quail-hunterter hit that. It's goin' 'bout a mile an hour. However, there is noharm done; the shot will show those fellows that we are awake out here."
Slowly the log floated on, vanishing in the darkness. No other alarmgreeted its progress, and at last, confident that they were alreadysafely below the extent of the guard lines, the two men, clinging toits wet sides, ventured to kick out quietly, and thus hasten itsprogress. It came ashore at the extreme end of the curve, and, after amoment of intent listening, the voyagers crept up the sand, and inwhispers discussed the next effort of their escape. The belts wereunstrapped from about the log, reloaded with cartridges, and buckledaround dripping waists before they clambered cautiously up the lowbank. The road was just beyond, but between them and it arose thealmost shapeless form of a small house, a mere darker shadow in thegloom of the night.
"Where are we?" questioned Westcott.
"Just back of old Beecher's shack. He's trucking down Benson way, butis liable to have some grub stored inside. I was countin' on this forour commissary department. Come on, Jim; time is money just now."
The door was unlocked, and they trusted wholly to the sense of touch tolocate the object of their search. However, as there were but tworooms, not overly stocked with furniture, the gloom was not a seriousobstacle, so that in less than ten minutes they emerged once more intothe open bearing their spoils--Westcott, a slab of bacon and a smallfrying-pan; Brennan, a paper sack of corn meal, with a couple ofspecimens of canned goods. He had also resurrected a gunny sacksomewhere, in which their things were carefully wrapped, and madesecure for transportation.
"Didn't feel no terbacco, did yer, Jim?" the marshal questionedsolicitously. "I reckon not though; ol' Beecher never would leavenuthin' like that lyin' round. Well, Lord! we ought ter be thankfulfer what we've got. Now if we can only get away with them hosses."
They wormed their way forward to the edge of the road through a fringeof bushes, Westcott laden with the bundle. Except for the sound ofdistant voices and an occasional loud laugh, the night was still. Theycould almost hear their own breathing, and the crackle of a dry twigunderfoot sounded to strained nerves like the report of a gun.Crouching at the edge of the road they could see fairly well what wasbefore them, as revealed by the lights shining forth through the dingywindows of the saloon. The Red Dog was not more than a hundred yardsaway, and seemingly well patronised in spite of the fact that its ownerand many of his parasites were busily engaged elsewhere. The wide-openfront gave view of much of the barroom including even a section of thebar. Numerous figures moving about were easily discernible, while upabove in the gambling rooms, the outlines of men were reflected uponthe windows.
A hum of voices echoed out into the night, but the platform in front ofthe door was deserted. Occasionally some wanderer either entered ordeparted, merging into the crowd within or disappearing through thedarkness without. To the left of the building, largely within itsshadow, stretched the hitch rail to which were fastened fully a dozencow-ponies, most of them revealed only by their restless movements,although the few nearest the door were plainly enough visible in thereflection of light. A fellow, ungainly in "chaps," reeled drunkenlydown the steps, mounted one of these and spurred up the road, yellingas he disappeared. The noise he made was re-echoed by the restlesscrowd within. The two men, crouched in the bushes, surveyed the sceneanxiously, marking its every detail. Brennan's hand closed heavily onthe arm of the other.
"We better pick out the two critters farthest from the light," hemuttered, "an' trust ter luck. We'll have to lead 'em a ways afore wemount. They're XL outfit mostly, an' that means fair stock. Shall wetry it, now?"
"The sooner the better."
"That's me. Blamed if ever I thought I'd be a hoss thief, but when afeller associates with Bill Lacy there's no knowin' what he will cometo. Howsumever, the foreman an' I are good friends, an' I don't reckonhe'd ever let me be hung fer this job. We better try the other side o'the road, Jim."
They were in the flicker of light for scarcely an instant, merely twodarting shadows, vanishing once more swiftly and silently into thegloom. Nor were they much longer in releasing the two cow-ponies.Westcott tied his bundle to the cantle of the saddle and then, bridlereins in hand, the docile animals following their new masters withoutresistance, the men led them over the smooth turf well back from therange of light. They were a quarter of a mile from the Red Dog beforeBrennan, slightly in advance, ventured to enter the road.
"It's safe enough now, Jim, an' we don't wanter lose no time. Got thegrub, haven't yer?"
"Tied it on the saddle; which way do we go?"
"Straight south at the bridge; that will bring us to the old trail inabout five miles, an' after that the devil himself couldn't find us.Ever crossed Shoshone?"
"No."
"Well, it's a little bit o' hell after sunup, an' we'll have a twentymile ride before we strike water. We'll start slow."
They swung into saddle, the road before them a mere black ribbonrevealed only by the gleam of a few far-off stars peering through riftsin the clouds. Brennan rode slightly in advance, trusting his mountlargely to pick out the way, yet leaning forward eagerly scanning everyshadow and listening for the slightest warning sound. They were uponthe grade leading to the bridge when his vigilance was rewarded. Therewas some movement to the left, where the hotel trail led down the bank,and instantly both men drew up their ponies and remained intent andrigid. Brennan's hand rested on the butt of his revolver, but for themoment neither could determine what was moving in the intense blacknessof the hillside. Then something spectral advanced into the starlightof the road and confronted them.
"Is this you, Mr. Cassady?" asked a woman's voice softly.
The Strange Case of Cavendish Page 23