CHAPTER II
A CAPTURE
Flatray swung around Old Baldy through the sparse timber that edged itsroots. He knew this country well; for he had run cattle here, and combedthe draws and ridges on the annual spring and fall round-ups.
There was no trail to follow. Often the lay of the land forced him to adetour; for it was rough with washes, with matted cactus, and with a thickgrowth of netted mesquite and underbrush. But true as the needle of acompass, he turned back always to the direction he was following. He hadthe instinct for direction, sharpened almost to infallibility by theexperience his work had given him.
So, hour after hour, he swung forward, pushing his horse over the groundin a sort of running walk, common to the plains. Sunset found him climbingfrom the foothills into the mountains beyond. Starlight came upon him in asaddle between the peaks, still plodding up by winding paths to the higheraltitudes that make the ridge of the continent's backbone.
The moon was up long before he struck a gulch spur that led to Elkhorncanyon. Whether he would be in time or not--assuming that he had guessedaright as to the destination of the outlaws--he could not tell. It wouldbe, at best, a near thing. For, though he had come more directly, they hadfollowed a trail which made the going much faster. Fast as the cow ponycould pick its way along the rock-strewn gulch, he descended, eye and earalert to detect the presence of another human being in this waste ofboulders, of moonlit, flickering shadows, of dark awesome peaks.
His quick ear caught the faintest of sounds. He slipped from the saddleand stole swiftly forward to the point where the gulch joined the maincanyon. Voices drifted to him--the sound of careless laughter, wafted bythe light night wind. He had missed the outlaws by scarce a hundred yards.There was nothing for it but to follow cautiously. As he was turning to goback for his horse the moon emerged from behind a cloud and flooded thecanyon with a cold, silvery light. It showed Jack a man and a horsestanding scarce twenty yards from him. The man had his back to him. He haddismounted, and was tightening the cinches of his saddle.
Flatray experienced a pang of disappointment. He was unarmed. His secondthought sent him flying noiselessly back to his horse. Deftly he unloosedthe rope which always hung coiled below the saddle horn. On tiptoe he ranback to the gulch mouth, bearing to the right, so as to come directlyopposite the man he wanted. As he ran he arranged the lariat to hissatisfaction, freeing the loop and making sure that the coil was notbound. Very cautiously he crept forward, taking advantage for cover of aboulder which rose from the bed of the gulch.
The man had finished tightening the girth. His foot rose to the stirrup.He swung up from the ground, and his right leg swept across the flank ofthe pony. It did not reach the stirrup; for, even as he rose, Jack'slariat snaked forward and dropped over his head to his breast. Ittightened sharply and dragged him back, pinioning his arms to his side.Before he could shake one of them free to reach the revolver in his chaps,he was lying on his back, with Flatray astride of him. The cattleman'sleft hand closed tightly upon his windpipe, while the right searched forand found the weapon in the holster of the prostrate man.
Not until the steel rim of it pressed against the teeth of the man beneathhim did Jack's fingers loosen. "Make a sound, and you're a dead man."
The other choked and gurgled. He was not yet able to cry out, even had heany intention of so doing. But defiant eyes glared into those of the manwho had unhorsed and captured him.
"Where are your pals bound for?" Flatray demanded.
He got no answer in words, but sullen eyes flung out an obstinate refusalto give away his associates.
"I reckon you're one of the Roaring Fork outfit," Jack suggested.
"You know so darn much I'll leave you to guess the rest," growled theprisoner.
"The first thing I'll guess is that, if anything happens to Simon West,you'll hang for it, my friend."
"You'll have to prove some things first."
Flatray's hand slid into the man's coat pocket, and drew forth a piece ofblack cloth that had been used as a mask.
"Here's exhibit A, to begin with."
The man on the ground suddenly gave an upward heave, grasped at theweapon, and let out a yell for help that echoed back from the cliff, whilethe cattleman let the butt of the revolver crash heavily down upon hisface. The heavy gun came down three times before the struggling outlawwould subside, and then not before blood streamed from ugly gashes intohis eyes.
"I've had enough, damn you!" the fellow muttered sullenly. "What do youwant with me?"
"You'll go along with me. Let out another sound, and I'll bump you off.Get a move on you."
Jack got to his feet and dragged up his prisoner. The man was a heavy-set,bowlegged fellow of about forty, hard-faced, and shifty-eyed--a frontiermiscreant, unless every line of the tough, leathery countenance told afalsehood. But he had made his experiment and failed. He knew what mannerof man his captor was, and he had no mind for another lesson from him. Heslouched to his horse, under propulsion of the revolver, and led theanimal into the gulch.
Both mounted, Jack keeping the captive covered every moment of the time;and they began to retrace the way by which the young cattleman had justcome.
After they had ridden about a quarter of a mile Flatray made areadjustment of the rope. He let the loop lie loosely about the neck ofthe outlaw, the other end of it being tied to the horn of his own saddle.Also, he tied the hands of the man in such a way that, though they werefree to handle the bridle rein, he could not raise them from the saddle ashigh as his neck.
"If you make any sudden moves, you'll be committing suicide. If you yellout, it will amount to about the same thing. It's up to you to be good,looks like."
The man cursed softly. He knew that the least attempt to escape or toattract the attention of his confederates would mean his undoing.Something about this young man's cold eye and iron jaw told him that hewould not hesitate to shoot, if necessary.
Voices came to them from the canyon. Flatray guessed that a reconnaissanceof the gulch would be made, and prepared himself for it by deflecting hiscourse from the bed of the _arroyo_ at a point where the walls fell backto form a little valley. A little grove of aspens covered densely theshoulder of a hillock some fifty yards back, and here he took his stand.He dismounted, and made his prisoner do the same.
"Sit down," he ordered crisply.
"What for?"
"To keep me from blowing the top of your head off," answered Jackquietly.
Without further discussion, the man sat down. His captor stood behind him,one hand on the shoulder of his prisoner, his eyes watching the point ofthe gulch at which the enemy would appear.
Two mounted men showed presently in silhouette. Almost opposite the grovethey drew up.
"Mighty queer what has become of Hank," one of them said. "But I don'treckon there's any use looking any farther. You don't figure he's aimingto throw us down--do you, Buck?"
"Nope. He'll stick, Hank will. But it sure looks darned strange. Here'shim a-ridin' along with us, and suddenly he's missin'. We hear a yell, andgo back to look for him. Nothin' doin'. You don't allow the devil couldhave come for him sudden--do you, Jeff?"
It was said with a laugh, defiantly, but none the less Jack readuneasiness in the manner of the man. It seemed to him that both were eagerto turn back. Giant boulders, carved to grotesque and ghostly shapes by amillion years' wind and water, reared themselves aloft and threw shadowsin the moonlight. The wind, caught in the gulch, rose and fell inunearthly, sibilant sounds. If ever fiends from below walk the earth, thistime and place was a fitting one for them. Jack curved a hand around hismouth, and emitted a strange, mournful, low cry, which might have been thescream of a lost soul.
Jeff clutched at the arm of his companion. "Did you hear that, Buck?"
"What--what do you reckon it was, Jeff?"
Again Jack let his cry curdle the night.
The outlaws took counsel of their terror. They were hardy, desperate men,afraid of nothing mortal under
the sun. But the dormant superstition inthem rose to their throats. Fearfully they wheeled and gave their horsesthe spur. Flatray could hear them crashing through the brush.
He listened while the rapid hoofbeats died away, until even the echoesfell silent. "We'll be moving," he announced to his prisoner.
For a couple of hours they followed substantially the same way that Jackhad taken, descending gradually toward the foothills and the plains. Thestars went out, and the moon slid behind banked clouds, so that thedarkness grew with the passing hours. At length Flatray had to call ahalt.
"We'll camp here till morning," he announced when they reached a grassypark.
The horses were hobbled, and the men sat down opposite each other in thedarkness. Presently the prisoner relaxed and fell asleep. But there was nosleep for his captor. The cattleman leaned against the trunk of acottonwood and smoked his pipe. The night grew chill, but he dared notlight a fire. At last the first streaks of gray dawn lightened the sky. Aquarter of an hour later he shook his captive from slumber.
"Time to hit the trail."
The outlaw murmured sleepily, "How's that, Dunc? Twenty-five thousandapiece!"
"Wake up! We've got to vamose out of here."
Slowly the fellow shook the sleep from his brain. He looked at Flatraysullenly, without answering. But he climbed into the saddle which Jack hadcinched for him. Dogged and wolfish as he was, the man knew his master,and was cowed.
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