CHAPTER XIX
I STAKE AGAIN
They were indistinguishable except as vocal sounds deadened by theimpeding fog; but human voices they certainly were. Throwing off her robeshe abruptly sat up, seeking, her features tensed with the strain. Shebeckoned to me. I scuttled over, as anxious as she. The voices might befar, they might be near; but it was an eerie situation, as if we wereneighboring with warlocks.
"I've been hearing them some little while," she whispered.
"The Captain Adams men may be trailing us?"
"I hope not! Oh, I hope not," she gasped, in sheer agony. "If we mightonly know in time."
Suddenly the fog was shot with gold, as the sun flashed in. In obedienceto the command a slow and stately movement began, by all the troops ofmist. The myriad elements drifted in unison, marching and countermarchingand rearranging, until presently, while we crouched intent to fathom thesecrets of their late camp, a wondrously beautiful phenomenon offered.
The great army rose for flight, lifting like a blanket. Gradually theearth appeared in glimpses beneath their floating array, so that whereasour plot of higher ground was still invested, stooping low and scanning wecould see beyond us by the extent of a narrow thinning belt capped withthe heavier white.
"There!" she whispered, pointing. "Look! There they are!"
Feet, legs, moving of themselves, cut off at the knees by the fog layer,distant not more than short rifle range: that was what had been revealed.A peculiar, absurd spectacle of a score or two of amputated limbs nowresurrected and blindly in quest of bodies.
"The Mormons!" I faltered.
"No! Leggins! Moccasins! They are Indians. We must leave right away beforethey see us."
With our stuff she ran, I ran, for the mules. We worked rapidly, bridlingand saddling while the fog rose with measured steadiness.
"Hurry!" she bade.
The whole desert was a golden haze when having packed we climbedaboard--she more spry than I, so that she led again.
As we urged outward the legs, behind, had taken to themselves thighs. Butthe mist briefly eddied down upon us; our mules' hoofs made no soundappreciable, on the scantily moistened soil; we lost the legs, and thevoices, and pressing the pace I rode beside her.
"Where?" I inquired.
"As far as we can while the fog hangs. Then we must hide in the first goodplace. If they don't strike our trail we'll be all right."
The fog lingered in patches. From patch to patch we threaded, with many aglance over shoulder. But time was traveling faster. I marked hersearching about nervously. Blue had already appeared above, the sun foundus again and again, and the fog remnants went spinning and coiling, inlast ghostly dance like that of frenzied wraiths.
Now we came to a rough outcrop of red sandstone, looming ruddily on ourright. She quickly swerved for it.
"The best chance. I see nothing else," she muttered. "We can tie the mulesunder cover, and wait. We'll surely be spied if we keep on."
"Couldn't we risk it?"
"No. We've not start enough."
In a moment we had gained the refuge. The sculptured rock masses, detachedone from another, several jutting ten feet up, received us. We tied themules short, in a nook at the rear; and we ourselves crawled on, fartherin, until we lay snug amidst the shadowing buttresses, with the desertvista opening before us.
The fog wraiths were very few; the sun blazed more vehemently and wipedthem out, so that through the marvelously clear air the expanse of lone,weird country stood forth clean cut. No moving object could escape noticein this watchful void. And we had been just in time. The slight knoll hadbeen left not a mile to the southwest. I heard My Lady catch breath, felther hand find mine as we lay almost touching. Rounding the knoll thereappeared a file of mounted figures; by their robes and blankets, theirtufted lances and gaudy shields, yes, by the very way they sat theirpainted ponies, Indians unmistakably.
"They must have been camped near us all night." And she shuddered. "Now ifthey only don't cross our trail. We mustn't move."
They came on at a canter, riding bravely, glancing right and left--a scoreof them headed by a scarlet-blanketed man upon a spotted horse. Sotransparent was the air, washed by the fog and vivified by the sun, that Icould decipher the color pattern of his shield emblazonry: a checkerboardof red and black.
"A war party. Sioux, I think," she said. "Don't they carry scalps on thatfirst lance? They've been raiding the stage line. Do you see any squaws?"
"No," I hazarded, with beating heart. "All warriors, I should guess."
"All warriors. But squaws would be worse."
On they cantered, until their paint stripes and daubs were hideouslyplain; we might note every detail of their savage muster. They wereparalleling our outward course; indeed, seemed to be diverging from ourambush and making more to the west. And I had hopes that, after all, wewere safe. Then her hand clutched mine firmly. A wolf had leaped fromcovert in the path of the file; loped eastward across the desert, andinstantly, with a whoop that echoed upon us like the crack of doom, ayoung fellow darted from the line in gay pursuit.
My Lady drew quick breath, with despairing exclamation.
"That is cruel, cruel! They might have ridden past; but now--look!"
The stripling warrior (he appeared to be scarcely more than a boy)hammered in chase, stringing his bow and plucking arrow. The wolf cast eyeover plunging shoulder, and lengthened. Away they tore, while the fileslackened, to watch. Our trail of flight bore right athwart the wolf'sprojected route. There was just the remote chance that the lad wouldoverrun it, in his eagerness; and for that intervening moment of grace westared, fascinated, hand clasping hand.
"He's found it! He's found it!" she announced, in a little wail.
In mid-career the boy had checked his pony so shortly that the four hoofsploughed the sand. He wheeled on a pivot and rode back for a few yards,scanning the ground, letting the wolf go. The stillness that had settledwhile we gazed and the file of warriors, reining, gazed, gripped andfairly hurt. I cursed the youth. Would to God he had stayed at home--Godgrant that mangy wolf died by trap or poison. Our one chance made thesport of an accidental view-halloo, when all the wide desert was open.
The youth had halted again, leaning from his saddle pad. He raised, heflung up glad hand and commenced to ride in circles, around and around andaround. The band galloped to him.
"Yes, he has found it," she said. "Now they will come."
"What shall we do?" I asked her.
And she answered, releasing my hand.
"I don't know. But we must wait. We can stand them off for a while, Isuppose----"
"I'll do my best, with the revolver," I promised.
"Yes," she murmured. "But after that----?"
I had no reply. This contingency--we two facing Indians--was outside mycalculations.
The Indians had grouped; several had dismounted, peering closely at ourtrail, reading it, timing it, accurately estimating it. They had nodifficulty, for the hoof prints were hardly dried of the fog moisture. Theothers sat idly, searching the horizons with their eyes, but at confidentease. In the wide expanse this rock fortress of ours seemed to me tosummon imperatively, challenging them. They surely must know. Yet therethey delayed, torturing us, playing blind, emulating cat and mouse; but ofcourse they were reasoning and making certain.
Now the dismounted warriors vaulted ahorse; at a gesture from the chieftwo men rode aside, farther to the east, seeking other sign. They foundnone, and to his shrill hail they returned.
There was another command. The company had strung bows, stripped theirrifles of the buckskin sheaths, had dropped robe and blanket about theirloins; they spread out to right and left in close skirmish order; theyadvanced three scouts, one on the trail, one on either flank; and in abroadened front they followed with a discipline, an earnestness, aprecision of purpose and a deadly anticipation that drowned every fleetinghope.
This was unbearable: to lie here awaiting an inevitable end.
"Shall we make a break for it?" I proposed. "Ride and fight? We mightreach the train, or a stage station. Quick!"
In my wild desire for action I half arose. Her hand restrained me.
"It would be madness, Mr. Beeson. We'd stand no show at all in the open;not on these poor mules." She murmured to herself. "Yes, they're Sioux.That's not so bad. Were they Cheyennes--dog-soldiers---- Let me think. Imust talk with them."
"But they're coming," I rasped. "They're getting in range. We've the gun,and twenty cartridges. Maybe if I kill the chief----"
She spoke, positive, under breath.
"Don't shoot! Don't! They know we're here--know it perfectly well. I shalltalk with them."
"You? How? Why? Can you persuade them? Would they let us go?"
"I'll do what I can. I have a few words of Sioux; and there's the signlanguage. See," she said. "They've discovered our mules. They know we'reonly two."
The scouts on either flanks had galloped outward and onward, in swiftcircle, peering at our defenses. Lying low they scoured at full speed;with mutual whoop they crisscrossed beyond and turned back for the mainbody halted two hundred yards out upon the flat plain.
There was a consultation; on a sudden a great chorus of exultant criesrang, the force scattered, shaking fists and weapons, preparing for atentative charge; and ere I could stop her My Lady had sprung upright, tomount upon a rock and all in view to hold open hand above her head. Thesunshine glinted upon her hair; a fugitive little breeze bound her shabbygown closer about her slim figure.
They had seen her instantly. Another chorus burst, this time inastonishment; a dozen guns were leveled, covering her and our nest whileevery visage stared. But no shot belched; thank God, no shot, with mepowerless to prevent, just as I was powerless to intercept her. The chiefrode forward, at a walk, his hand likewise lifted.
The Scouts Galloped Onward]
"Keep down! Keep down, please," she directed to me, while she stoodmotionless. "Let me try."
The chief neared until we might see his every lineament--every item of histrappings, even to the black-tipped eagle feather erect at the part in hisbraids. And he rode carelessly, fearlessly, to halt within easy speakingdistance; sat a moment, rifle across his leggined thighs and the folds ofhis scarlet blanket--a splendid man, naked from the waist up, his copperychest pigment-daubed, his slender arms braceleted with metal, his eyesdevouring her so covetously that I felt the gloating thoughts behindthem.
He called inquiringly: a greeting and a demand in one, it sounded. Shereplied. And what they two said, in word and sign, I could not know, butall the time I held my revolver upon him, until to my relief he abruptlywheeled his horse and cantered back to his men, leaving me with wristaching and heart pounding madly.
She stepped lightly down; answered my querying look.
"It's all right. I'm going, and so are you," she said, with a faint smile,oddly subtle--a tremulous smile in a white face.
About her there was a mystery which alarmed me; made me sit up, chilled,to eye her and accuse.
"Where? We are free, you mean? What's the bargain?"
"I go to them. You go where you choose--to the stage road, of course. Ihave his promise."
This brought me to my feet, rigid; more than scandalized, for no word canexpress the shock.
"You go to them? And then where?"
She answered calmly, flushing a little, smiling a little, her eyessincere.
"It's the best way and the only way. We shall neither of us be harmed,now. The chief will provide for me and you yourself are free. No, no," shesaid, checking my first indignant cry. "Really I don't mind. The Indiansare about the only persons left to me. I'll be safe with them." Shelaughed rather sadly, but brightened. "I don't know but that I prefer themto the whites. I told you I had no place. And this saves you also, yousee. I got you into it--I've felt that you blamed me, almost hated me.Things have been breaking badly for me ever since we met again in Benton.So it's up to me to make good. You can go home, and I shall not beunhappy, I think. Please believe that. The wife of a great chief is quitea personage--he won't inquire into my past. But if we try to stay here youwill certainly be killed, and I shall suffer, and we shall gain nothing.You must take my money. Please do. Then good-bye. I told him I would comeout, under his promise."
She and the rocks reeled together. That was my eyes, giddy with a rush ofblood, surging and hot.
"Never, never, never!" I was shouting, ignoring her hand. How she hadmisjudged me! What a shame she had put upon me! I could not credit. "Youshall not--I tell you, you sha'n't. I won't have it--it's monstrous,preposterous. You sha'n't go, I sha'n't go. But wherever we go we'll gotogether. We'll stand them off. Then if they can take us, let 'em. Youmake a coward of me--a dastard. You've no right to. I'd rather die."
"Listen," she chided, her hand grasping my sleeve. "They would take meanyway--don't you see? After they had killed you. It would be the worsefor both of us. What can you do, with one arm, and a revolver, and anunlucky woman? No, Mr. Beeson (she was firm and strangely formal); thecards are faced up. I have closed a good bargain for both of us. When youare out, you need say nothing. Perhaps some day I may be ransomed, shouldI wish to be. But we can talk no further now. He is impatient. Themoney--you will need the money, and I shall not. Please turn your back andI'll get at my belt. Why," she laughed, "how well everything is coming.You are disposed of, I am disposed of----"
"Money!" I roared. "God in Heaven! You disposed of? I disposed of? And myhonor, madam! What of that?"
"And what of mine, Mr. Beeson?" She stamped her foot, coloring. "Will youturn your back, or----? Oh, we've talked too long. But the belt you shallhave. Here----" She fumbled within her gown. "And now, adios and goodluck. You shall not despise me."
The chief was advancing accompanied by a warrior. Behind him his menwaited expectant, gathered as an ugly blotch upon the dun desert. Herhonor? The word had double meaning. Should she sacrifice the one honor inthis crude essay to maintain the other which she had not lost, to my nowopened eyes? I could not deliver her tender body over to that paintedswaggerer--any more than I could have delivered it over to Daniel himself.At last I knew, I knew. History had written me a fool, and a cad, but itshould not write me a dastard. We were together, and together we shouldalways be, come weal or woe, life or death.
The money belt had been dropped at my feet. She had turned--I leapedbefore her, thrust her to rear, answered the hail of the pausing chief.
"No!" I squalled. And I added for emphasis: "You go to hell."
He understood. The phrase might have been familiar English to him. I sawhim stiffen in his saddle; he called loudly, and raised his rifle,threatening; with a gasp--a choked "Good-bye"--she darted by me, runningon for the open and for him. She and he filled all my landscape. In astark blinding rage of fear, chagrin, rancorous jealousy, I leveledrevolver and pulled trigger, but not at her, though even that was notbeyond me in the crisis.
The bullet thwacked smartly; the chief uttered a terrible cry, his riflewas tossed high, he bowed, swayed downward, his comrade grabbed him, andthey were racing back closely side by side and she was running back to meand the warriors were shrieking and brandishing their weapons and bulletsspatted the rocks--all this while yet my hand shook to the recoil of therevolver and the smoke was still wafting from the poised muzzle.
What had I done? But done it was.
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