by Zane Grey
CHAPTER III
In the afternoon, Dale, having accomplished some tasks imposed upon himby his old friends at Pine, directed slow steps toward the Auchinclossranch.
The flat, square stone and log cabin of unusually large size stood upona little hill half a mile out of the village. A home as well as a fort,it had been the first structure erected in that region, and the processof building had more than once been interrupted by Indian attacks.The Apaches had for some time, however, confined their fierce raids topoints south of the White Mountain range. Auchincloss's house lookeddown upon barns and sheds and corrals of all sizes and shapes, andhundreds of acres of well-cultivated soil. Fields of oats waved gray andyellow in the afternoon sun; an immense green pasture was divided by awillow-bordered brook, and here were droves of horses, and out on therolling bare flats were straggling herds of cattle.
The whole ranch showed many years of toil and the perseverance ofman. The brook irrigated the verdant valley between the ranch and thevillage. Water for the house, however, came down from the high, woodedslope of the mountain, and had been brought there by a simple expedient.Pine logs of uniform size had been laid end to end, with a deep troughcut in them, and they made a shining line down the slope, across thevalley, and up the little hill to the Auchincloss home. Near the housethe hollowed halves of logs had been bound together, making a crudepipe. Water ran uphill in this case, one of the facts that made theranch famous, as it had always been a wonder and delight to the smallboys of Pine. The two good women who managed Auchincloss's largehousehold were often shocked by the strange things that floated intotheir kitchen with the ever-flowing stream of clear, cold mountainwater.
As it happened this day Dale encountered Al Auchincloss sitting in theshade of a porch, talking to some of his sheep-herders and stockmen.Auchincloss was a short man of extremely powerful build and great widthof shoulder. He had no gray hairs, and he did not look old, yet therewas in his face a certain weariness, something that resembled slopinglines of distress, dim and pale, that told of age and the ebb-tide ofvitality. His features, cast in large mold, were clean-cut and comely,and he had frank blue eyes, somewhat sad, yet still full of spirit.
Dale had no idea how his visit would be taken, and he certainly wouldnot have been surprised to be ordered off the place. He had not set footthere for years. Therefore it was with surprise that he saw Auchinclosswave away the herders and take his entrance without any particularexpression.
"Howdy, Al! How are you?" greeted Dale, easily, as he leaned his rifleagainst the log wall.
Auchincloss did not rise, but he offered his hand.
"Wal, Milt Dale, I reckon this is the first time I ever seen you that Icouldn't lay you flat on your back," replied the rancher. His tone wasboth testy and full of pathos.
"I take it you mean you ain't very well," replied Dale. "I'm sorry, Al."
"No, it ain't thet. Never was sick in my life. I'm just played out, likea hoss thet had been strong an' willin', an' did too much.... Wal, youdon't look a day older, Milt. Livin' in the woods rolls over a man'shead."
"Yes, I'm feelin' fine, an' time never bothers me."
"Wal, mebbe you ain't such a fool, after all. I've wonderedlately--since I had time to think.... But, Milt, you don't git noricher."
"Al, I have all I want an' need."
"Wal, then, you don't support anybody; you don't do any good in theworld."
"We don't agree, Al," replied Dale, with his slow smile.
"Reckon we never did.... An' you jest come over to pay your respects tome, eh?"
"Not altogether," answered Dale, ponderingly. "First off, I'd like tosay I'll pay back them sheep you always claimed my tame cougar killed."
"You will! An' how'd you go about that?"
"Wasn't very many sheep, was there?
"A matter of fifty head."
"So many! Al, do you still think old Tom killed them sheep?"
"Humph! Milt, I know damn well he did."
"Al, now how could you know somethin' I don't? Be reasonable, now. Let'sdon't fall out about this again. I'll pay back the sheep. Work it out--"
"Milt Dale, you'll come down here an' work out that fifty head ofsheep!" ejaculated the old rancher, incredulously.
"Sure."
"Wal, I'll be damned!" He sat back and gazed with shrewd eyes at Dale."What's got into you, Milt? Hev you heard about my niece thet's comin',an' think you'll shine up to her?"
"Yes, Al, her comin' has a good deal to do with my deal," replied Dale,soberly. "But I never thought to shine up to her, as you hint."
"Haw! Haw! You're just like all the other colts hereabouts. Reckon it'sa good sign, too. It'll take a woman to fetch you out of the woods. But,boy, this niece of mine, Helen Rayner, will stand you on your head.I never seen her. They say she's jest like her mother. An' NellAuchincloss--what a girl she was!"
Dale felt his face grow red. Indeed, this was strange conversation forhim.
"Honest, Al--" he began.
"Son, don't lie to an old man."
"Lie! I wouldn't lie to any one. Al, it's only men who live in towns an'are always makin' deals. I live in the forest, where there's nothin' tomake me lie."
"Wal, no offense meant, I'm sure," responded Auchincloss. "An' mebbethere's somethin' in what you say... We was talkin' about them sheepyour big cat killed. Wal, Milt, I can't prove it, that's sure. An' mebbeyou'll think me doddery when I tell you my reason. It wasn't what themgreaser herders said about seein' a cougar in the herd."
"What was it, then?" queried Dale, much interested.
"Wal, thet day a year ago I seen your pet. He was lyin' in front of thestore an' you was inside tradin', fer supplies, I reckon. It was likemeetin' an enemy face to face. Because, damn me if I didn't know thatcougar was guilty when he looked in my eyes! There!"
The old rancher expected to be laughed at. But Dale was grave.
"Al, I know how you felt," he replied, as if they were discussing anaction of a human being. "Sure I'd hate to doubt old Tom. But he's acougar. An' the ways of animals are strange... Anyway, Al, I'll makegood the loss of your sheep."
"No, you won't," rejoined Auchincloss, quickly. "We'll call it off. I'mtakin' it square of you to make the offer. Thet's enough. So forget yourworry about work, if you had any."
"There's somethin' else, Al, I wanted to say," began Dale, withhesitation. "An' it's about Beasley."
Auchincloss started violently, and a flame of red shot into his face.Then he raised a big hand that shook. Dale saw in a flash how the oldman's nerves had gone.
"Don't mention--thet--thet greaser--to me!" burst out the rancher. "Itmakes me see--red.... Dale, I ain't overlookin' that you spoke up ferme to-day--stood fer my side. Lem Harden told me. I was glad. An' thet'swhy--to-day--I forgot our old quarrel.... But not a word about thetsheep-thief--or I'll drive you off the place!"
"But, Al--be reasonable," remonstrated Dale. "It's necessary thet Ispeak of--of Beasley."
"It ain't. Not to me. I won't listen."
"Reckon you'll have to, Al," returned Dale. "Beasley's after yourproperty. He's made a deal--"
"By Heaven! I know that!" shouted Auchincloss, tottering up, with hisface now black-red. "Do you think thet's new to me? Shut up, Dale! Ican't stand it."
"But Al--there's worse," went on Dale, hurriedly. "Worse! Your life'sthreatened--an' your niece, Helen--she's to be--"
"Shut up--an' clear out!" roared Auchincloss, waving his huge fists.
He seemed on the verge of a collapse as, shaking all over, he backedinto the door. A few seconds of rage had transformed him into a pitifulold man.
"But, Al--I'm your friend--" began Dale, appealingly.
"Friend, hey?" returned the rancher, with grim, bitter passion. "Thenyou're the only one.... Milt Dale, I'm rich an' I'm a dyin' man. I trustnobody... But, you wild hunter--if you're my friend--prove it!... Gokill thet greaser sheep-thief! DO somethin'--an' then come talk to me!"
With that he lurched, half falling, into the house,
and slammed thedoor.
Dale stood there for a blank moment, and then, taking up his rifle, hestrode away.
Toward sunset Dale located the camp of his four Mormon friends, andreached it in time for supper.
John, Roy, Joe, and Hal Beeman were sons of a pioneer Mormon who hadsettled the little community of Snowdrop. They were young men in years,but hard labor and hard life in the open had made them look matured.Only a year's difference in age stood between John and Roy, and betweenRoy and Joe, and likewise Joe and Hal. When it came to appearance theywere difficult to distinguish from one another. Horsemen, sheep-herders,cattle-raisers, hunters--they all possessed long, wiry, powerful frames,lean, bronzed, still faces, and the quiet, keen eyes of men used to theopen.
Their camp was situated beside a spring in a cove surrounded by aspens,some three miles from Pine; and, though working for Beasley, nearthe village, they had ridden to and fro from camp, after the habit ofseclusion peculiar to their kind.
Dale and the brothers had much in common, and a warm regard had sprangup. But their exchange of confidences had wholly concerned thingspertaining to the forest. Dale ate supper with them, and talked as usualwhen he met them, without giving any hint of the purpose forming in hismind. After the meal he helped Joe round up the horses, hobble them forthe night, and drive them into a grassy glade among the pines. Later,when the shadows stole through the forest on the cool wind, and thecamp-fire glowed comfortably, Dale broached the subject that possessedhim.
"An' so you're working for Beasley?" he queried, by way of startingconversation.
"We was," drawled John. "But to-day, bein' the end of our month, we gotour pay an' quit. Beasley sure was sore."
"Why'd you knock off?"
John essayed no reply, and his brothers all had that quiet, suppressedlook of knowledge under restraint.
"Listen to what I come to tell you, then you'll talk," went on Dale. Andhurriedly he told of Beasley's plot to abduct Al Auchincloss's niece andclaim the dying man's property.
When Dale ended, rather breathlessly, the Mormon boys sat without anyshow of surprise or feeling. John, the eldest, took up a stick andslowly poked the red embers of the fire, making the white sparks fly.
"Now, Milt, why'd you tell us thet?" he asked, guardedly.
"You're the only friends I've got," replied Dale. "It didn't seem safefor me to talk down in the village. I thought of you boys right off. Iain't goin' to let Snake Anson get that girl. An' I need help, so I cometo you."
"Beasley's strong around Pine, an' old Al's weakenin'. Beasley will gitthe property, girl or no girl," said John.
"Things don't always turn out as they look. But no matter about that.The girl deal is what riled me.... She's to arrive at Magdalena onthe sixteenth, an' take stage for Snowdrop.... Now what to do? If shetravels on that stage I'll be on it, you bet. But she oughtn't to be init at all. ... Boys, somehow I'm goin' to save her. Will you help me? Ireckon I've been in some tight corners for you. Sure, this 's different.But are you my friends? You know now what Beasley is. An' you're alllost at the hands of Snake Anson's gang. You've got fast hosses, eyesfor trackin', an' you can handle a rifle. You're the kind of fellows I'dwant in a tight pinch with a bad gang. Will you stand by me or see me goalone?"
Then John Beeman, silently, and with pale face, gave Dale's hand apowerful grip, and one by one the other brothers rose to do likewise.Their eyes flashed with hard glint and a strange bitterness hoveredaround their thin lips.
"Milt, mebbe we know what Beasley is better 'n you," said John, atlength. "He ruined my father. He's cheated other Mormons. We boys haveproved to ourselves thet he gets the sheep Anson's gang steals.... An'drives the herds to Phenix! Our people won't let us accuse Beasley. Sowe've suffered in silence. My father always said, let some one else saythe first word against Beasley, an' you've come to us!"
Roy Beeman put a hand on Dale's shoulder. He, perhaps, was the keenestof the brothers and the one to whom adventure and peril called most.He had been oftenest with Dale, on many a long trail, and he was thehardest rider and the most relentless tracker in all that range country.
"An' we're goin' with you," he said, in a strong and rolling voice.
They resumed their seats before the fire. John threw on more wood, andwith a crackling and sparkling the blaze curled up, fanned by the wind.As twilight deepened into night the moan in the pines increased to aroar. A pack of coyotes commenced to pierce the air in staccato cries.
The five young men conversed long and earnestly, considering, planning,rejecting ideas advanced by each. Dale and Roy Beeman suggested most ofwhat became acceptable to all. Hunters of their type resembled explorersin slow and deliberate attention to details. What they had to deal withhere was a situation of unlimited possibilities; the horses and outfitneeded; a long detour to reach Magdalena unobserved; the rescue of astrange girl who would no doubt be self-willed and determined to rideon the stage--the rescue forcible, if necessary; the fight and theinevitable pursuit; the flight into the forest, and the safe delivery ofthe girl to Auchincloss.
"Then, Milt, will we go after Beasley?" queried Roy Beeman,significantly.
Dale was silent and thoughtful.
"Sufficient unto the day!" said John. "An' fellars, let's go to bed."
They rolled out their tarpaulins, Dale sharing Roy's blankets, and soonwere asleep, while the red embers slowly faded, and the great roar ofwind died down, and the forest stillness set in.
