CHAPTER XLI
A NIGHT RIDE AND DEATH OF BUFFALO JIM
"I'll go round up the pasture for you," he ended. "Will Nugget do? I kincatch him easiest."
As Johnson was saddling, he told Hetty through the window that perhapshe would not be back for a week.
"Say, Lafe"--Shortredge was at his elbow, plucking the sleeve of hisshirt--"say, I want to go along."
"I don't reckon you'd ought, Buf'lo," Lafe answered. He spoke in a mildtone, as though the request were a very natural one. "It's all of thirtymiles and you know what fighting fire means. There won't be nothing toeat but canned tomatoes and mighty li'l water and--"
"Man alive, I know that," said Shortredge, "but I want to go along."
Johnson coiled his rope and hung it carefully from the fork of thesaddle. "No, I don't think you'd ought to go, Buf'lo."
"Why not? Listen to me, Lafe." He began to plead, his manner nervouslyinsistent. "If it's going to come, it's going to come, and a lot of gooddodging will do. Give me a chance, and not--say, I don't want to crawloff like a sick rat. Me and you never used to run away, did we? Well,I'd kind of like--I'd kind of like to be on top of a good horse."
"Me and you both."
"Come on, Lafe. Go get ol' Scrapper for me. I can stand it all right.Let's see The Hatter together, like we aimed to do. The sun'll be justbusting himself when we get there."
"Well, you know what it means. Go get your saddle. Whatever you say,goes," said Johnson.
Ten horsemen met them where the path split, the one to the rightsweeping upward and around the rim of the giant mountain. They were inill-humor, for all had been roused from sleep and they knew what wasahead. Therefore, not a word was exchanged as they dog-trotted in singlefile. Sometimes only a pinpoint of light, when a cigarette glowed from along intake, showed where they moved.
Rough and rocky was the trail. Shortredge came last, by Johnson'sdirections, and the cowboy in front turned in the saddle from time totime to ascertain that he followed in safety. He marveled much that Jimshould attempt this ride, but advice is the last thing his class willobtrude. The night was black, but the western sky was a pale yellow, anda broken line of red wavered intermittently above the farther slope ofThe Hatter.
Once Shortredge became conscious of something beside him and facedtoward it swiftly, but there was nothing there. He essayed a laugh."Pshaw! I'm shore getting foolish," he muttered. "My eyes, I expect."
Twice after that he was moved to peer into the dark on his right hand.Surely something rode there, hovering very near. Lafe dropped back fromhis position at the head of the line, to satisfy himself about hisfriend.
"How goes it?"
"Stronger'n the oldest man in the world," said Buffalo cheerily.
Johnson ranged beside him for a short distance. The line wound everupward, in silence. Several times a horse's hoof clacked on rocks withflare of sparks. At last: "Say, Lafe."
"Well?"
"I've been a-figuring that I must have given you and Hetty a right smartof trouble. There ain't no way of knowing it from you-all, but I kind ofgot the idea--"
"You make me tired," said Johnson angrily. "What's wrong with you,anyhow? You talk like an ol' woman."
"It's right queer," Shortredge continued, "ain't it?"
"What's queer?"
"Why, me and you both starting out the same way. We used to sleep underthe same blankets, me and you did. And here you've got Hetty and li'lLafe--say, Lafe, there's one kid for you. He says to me onlyyesterday--"
"Look out for this drop," Johnson cautioned.
"And I've got a bum heart and a bum lung. However, it's all in the game.Hey, Lafe? A feller's got to grin and face the music. That's all thereis for him to do, I take it."
"What you need," his friend remarked sagely, "is a drink. But we ain'tgot any along. Now, take a brace and forget it, Buf'lo. Don't go talkinglike a quitter. Just as soon as you're a mite stouter, me and you'll goshares on that bunch of cattle we were looking over. I done had this inmy mind for a long time. I need a partner--need him bad, what with ol'Horne's work coming on me more every day."
Buffalo started to say something to this, but Johnson touched Nuggetwith the spur and scrambled forward to the head of his men. Theycontinued to climb. Often they would see the shooting flames; again,merely a dull glow revealed where the fire raged; and now they weremounting the sheer walls of a canon, now dipping down the faces ofcliffs. A horse rolled into a gulch and crushed his rider's leg. Johnsontold off a man to look after the injured one. Another strayed from sightand sound, and bawled frantically for twenty minutes before he caught upwith the party. Soon it was necessary to raise the cry of the nighttrail in broken country. Lafe began it.
"Here I go." He sent it weirdly behind him in a long yell.
"Here I go."
And, "Here I go" went down the line to the last man.
Shortredge kept a firm seat and allowed the reins to swing loose. Wellhe knew that Scrapper was more to be trusted in this work than theguidance he or anybody else could give.
"Here I go," came Johnson's halloo.
"Here I go."
"Here--I--go," Jim echoed.
The sting of early morning was in the air, and often he shivered. Stareat the rider in front as he might, he could not shake off the impressionthat something kept pace at his side. Vainly he sought the silhouettesof the advance horsemen, stark against the yellow sky, when they roundeda bend. Those were real men. He counted them--nine.
"There's ten in this bunch, all the same," he said to Scrapper. "Don'tyou see nobody besides us, boy?"
Apparently Scrapper did not. So Shortredge followed behind, encouragingScrapper up the heights, leaning far back against the cantle when theywent downward to thread another defile. Some of the chasms they crossedtook his breath away.
"Well," he quavered, with an uneasy laugh. "We're giving him a run forhis money. Hey, ol' feller? We're shore making him ride some."
At long last they climbed to the topmost ridge. Above was the peak ofThe Hatter, and the fire stood revealed a mile below. The air was cold,and a gray shiver ran along the eastern sky. Shortredge's hand flewsuddenly to the breast of his shirt. He gasped for breath.
"How goes it?" yelled the man ahead.
"Fine as silk," he answered after a minute.
They skirted a crag and the devastation of the flames was hidden fromthem. No time was to be lost. With Lafe leading the way, they advancedat a quickened gait.
"Here I go."
"Here I go."
"Here--I--go," said the last man in a faint voice.
He settled gently in the saddle and Scrapper came to a halt. The reinstrailed on the ground and the rider's hands were gripping the mane.
Thus did Buffalo Jim face the music, atop a good horse, as he hadhoped--the music of the spheres, swelling in the blood-red dawn thatbroke back of The Hatter.
The Sheriff of Badger: A Tale of the Southwest Borderland Page 41
