CHAPTER XXXIV
THE FIGHT ON THE LEDGE
In that instant of supreme horror, Mary Thorne found time to be thankfulthat terror struck her momentarily dumb. For now, with lips parted and acry of warning trembling there, she saw that it was too late. Like apointer freezing to the scent, Lynch's whole body had stiffened; one handgripped the leveled Colt, a finger caressed the trigger. At this juncturea cry would almost surely bring that tiny, muscular contraction whichmight be fatal.
From behind the ledge Buck's hat had disappeared, and a faint creak ofsaddle-leather told the girl that he had dismounted and by so doing musthave moved a trifle out of range.
Sick with horror and desperation, the girl's eye fell upon a stone lyingat her feet--a jagged piece of granite perhaps twice the size of abaseball. In a flash she dropped the bridle-reins and, bending, caught itup stealthily. Freckles pricked his ears forward, but with a fleeting,imploring touch of one hand against his sweaty neck, Mary steadied herselffor a moment, slowly drew back her arm, and, with a fervent, silentprayer for strength, she hurled the stone.
It grazed Lynch's face and struck his wrist with a force that jerked upthe barrel of the revolver. The spurt of flame, the sharp crack of theshot, the clatter of the Colt striking the edge of the precipice, allseemed to the girl to come simultaneously. A belated second afterwardLynch's furious curses came to her. With dilated eyes she saw him snatchfrantically at the sliding weapon, and as it toppled out of sight into thecanyon barely an inch ahead of his clutching, striving fingers, shethrilled with sudden fierce joy.
"Curse you!" he frothed, springing up and rushing at her. "You--"
"Buck!" she screamed. "Quick! His gun's gone! He--"
A blow from his fist struck her mouth and flung her backward against thehorse. Half fainting, she saw Freckles lunge over her shoulder and heardthe vicious click of his teeth snapping together. But Lynch, ducking outof reach of the angry horse, caught Mary about the waist and dragged hertoward the precipice.
Involuntarily she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, stirred bythe curious silence and the sudden cessation of all movement, she foundherself staring dazedly into the face of Buck Green.
He stood very quietly just inside the narrow entrance to the ledge, notmore than ten feet from her. In one hand was a six-shooter; the other hungstraight at his side, the fingers tightly clenched. As he met herbewildered glance, his eyes softened tenderly and the corners of his lipscurved in a momentary, reassuring smile. Then abruptly his face frozeagain.
"Yuh take another step an' down she'll go," said a hoarse voice close tothe girl's ear.
It was Lynch; and Mary, her senses clearing, knew whose hands gripped herso tightly that she could scarcely breathe. Glancing sidewise, she hastilyaverted her eyes. She was standing within six inches of the edge of theprecipice. For the first time she could look down into those sheer depths,and even that hurried glimpse made her shiver.
"Well, I admit you've got the bulge on me, as it were." Buck's voicesuddenly broke the silence. "Still, I don't see how you're going to getout of this hole. You can't stand like this forever."
Mary stared at him, amazed at his cool, drawling, matter-of-fact tone. Shewas still more puzzled to note that he seemed to be juggling with hisrevolver in a manner which seemed, to say the least, extraordinarilycareless.
"I can stand here till I get tired," retorted Lynch. "After that-- Well,I'd as soon end up down there as get a bullet through my ribs. One thing,I wouldn't go alone."
"Suppose I offered to let you go free if you give up Miss Thorne?"Stratton asked with sudden earnestness.
"Offer? Hell! Yuh can't fool me with that kind of talk. Not unless yuhhand over yore gun, that is. Do that, an' I might consider theproposition--not otherwise."
Buck hesitated, his eyes flashing from the weapon he whirled so carelesslybetween his fingers to Lynch, whose eyes regarded him intently over thegirl's shoulder.
"That would be putting an awful lot of trust in you," he commented. "Onceyou had the gun, what's to prevent you from drilling me--Oh, damn!"
He made a sudden, ineffectual grab at the gun, which had slipped from hisfingers, and missed. As the weapon clattered against the rocks, Lynch'scovetous glance followed it involuntarily. What happened next was abewildering whirl of violent, unexpected action.
To Mary it seemed as if Buck cleared the space between them in a singleamazing leap. He landed with one foot slipping on the ragged edge of theprecipice, and apparently threw his whole weight sidewise against Lynchand the girl he held. Just how it happened she did not know, but inanother moment Mary found herself freed from those hateful, gripping handsand flung back against her horse, while at her feet the two men grappledsavagely.
Over and over on the narrow confines of the sloping ledge they struggledfiercely, heaving, panting, with muscles cracking, each seeminglypossessed with a grim determination to thrust the other into the abyss.Now Buck was uppermost; again Lynch, by some clever trick, tore himselffrom Stratton's hold to gain a momentary advantage.
Like one meshed in the thralls of some hateful nightmare, the girlcrouched against her horse, her face so still and white and ghastly thatit might well have been some clever sculptor's bizarre conception of"Horror" done in marble. Only her eyes seemed to live. Wide, dilated,glittering with an unnatural light, they shifted constantly, following theprogress of those two writhing bodies.
Once, when Lynch's horse snorted and moved uneasily, she caught his bridleand quieted him with a soothing word, her voice so choked and hoarse thatshe scarcely knew it. Again, as the men rolled toward the outer side ofthe ledge and seemed for a moment almost to overhang the precipice, shegave a smothered cry and darted forward, moved by some wild impulse tofling her puny strength into the scale against the outlaw.
But with a heave of his big body, Buck saved himself as he had done morethan once before, and the struggle was resumed. Back and forth theyfought, over and over around that narrow space, until Mary was filled withthe dazed feeling that it had been going on for ever, that it would neverend.
But not for an instant did she cease to follow every tiny variation of thefray, and of a sudden she gave another cry. Gripped in a fierce embrace,the two men rolled toward the entrance to the ledge, and all at once Marysaw one of Lynch's hands close over and instantly seize the revolver Buckhad dropped there.
Instantly she darted forward and tried to wrest it from his grasp. Findinghis strength too great, she straightened swiftly and lifting one foot,brought her riding boot down fiercely with all her strength on Lynch'shand. With a smothered grunt his fingers laxed, and she caught up theweapon and stepped quickly back, wondering, if Lynch came uppermost,whether she would dare to try to shoot him.
No scruples now deterred her. These had vanished utterly, and with themfear, nervousness, fatigue, and every thought of self. For the moment shewas like the primitive savage, willing to do anything on earth tosave--her man! But so closely were the two men entwined that she wasafraid if she shot at Lynch the bullet might injure Buck.
Once more the fight veered close to the precipice. Lynch was againuppermost; and, whether by his greater strength, or from some injury Buckhad sustained against the rocks, the girl was seized by a horribleconviction that he had the upper hand. Knees gripping Stratton about thebody, hands circling his throat, Lynch, apparently oblivious to the blowsrained on his chest and neck, was slowly but surely forcing his opponentover the ragged margin of the ledge. It was at this instant that thefrantic girl discovered that her weapon had suffered some damage when itfell and was quite useless.
Already Buck's head overhung the precipice, his face a dark, strangledred. Flinging the revolver from her, Mary rushed forward and began to beatLynch wildly with her small, clenched fists.
But she might as effectually have tried to move a rooted tree, and with astrangled cry, she wound her fingers in his coarse black hair and strovewith all her strength to drag Lynch back.
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