CHAPTER XII
THE SIEGE OF DOUBLE MOUNTAIN
"Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes."
--_The Dictionary._
"Ho-o-e-ee! Hello-o!"
As the curtain rose to the flying echoes Long stepped to the edge of thedump, frying-pan in hand, and sent back an answering shout in thestartled high note of a lonely man taken unawares.
"Hello-o!" He brandished his hospitable pan. Then he put it down, cuppedhands to mouth and trumpeted a hearty welcome: "Chuck! Come up! Supper'sready!"
"Can't! See any one go by about two hours ago?"
"Hey? Louder!"
"See a man on a sorrel horse?"
"No-o! I been in the tunnel. Come up!"
"Can't. We're after an outlaw!"
"What?"
"After a murderer!"
"Wait a minute! I'll be down. Too hard to yell so far."
Mr. Long started precipitately down the zigzag; but the riders had gotall the information of interest that Mr. Long could furnish and theywere eager to be in at the death.
"Can't wait! He's inside the mountain, somewheres. Some of the boys arewaiting for him at the other end." They rode on.
Mr. Long posed for a statue of Disappointment, hung on the steep trailrather as if he might conclude to coil himself into a ball and roll downthe hill to overtake them.
"Stop as you come back!" he bellowed. "Want to hear about it."
Did Jeff--Mr. Long--did Mr. Long now attempt to escape? Not so. Giftedwith prevision beyond most, Mr. Long's mind misgave him that these youngmen would be baffled in their pleasing expectations. They would be backbefore sundown, very cross; and a miner's brogan leaves a track not tobe missed.
That Mr. Long was unfeignedly fatigued from the varied efforts of theday need not be mentioned, for that alone would not have stayed hisflight; but the nearest water, save Escondido, was thirty-five miles;and at Escondido he would be watched for--not to say that, when he wasmissed, some of the searching party would straightway go to Escondido tofrustrate him. Present escape was not to be thought of.
Instead, Mr. Long made a hearty meal from the simple viands that hadbeen in course of preparation when he was surprised, eked out by cannedcorn fried in bacon grease to a crisp, golden brown. Then, after acigarette, he betook himself to sharpening tools with laudable industry.The tools were already sharp, but that did not stop Mr. Long. He built afire in the forge, set up a stepladder of matched drills in theblackened water of the tempering tub; he thrust a gad and one shortdrill into the fire. When the gad was at a good cherry heat he thrust ithissing into the tub to bring the water to a convincing temperature; andwhen reheated he did it again. From time to time he held the one drillto the anvil and shaped it, drawing it alternately to a chisel bit or abull bit. Mr. Long could sharpen a drill with any, having been, in verytruth, a miner of sorts--he could toy thus with one drill without givingit any very careful attention, and his thoughts were now busy on howbest to be Mr. Long.
Accordingly from time to time he added an artistic touch to Mr.Long--grime under his fingernails, a smudge of smut on an eyebrow. Hishands displeased him. After some experimenting to get the proper heat ofit he grasped the partially cooled gad with the drill-pincers and heldit very lightly to a favored few of those portions of the hand known tochiromaniacs as the mounts of Jupiter, Saturn and other extinctimmortals.
Satisfactory blisters-while-you-wait were thus obtained. These werepricked with a pin; some were torn to tatters, with dust and coal rubbedin to give them a venerable appearance. The pain was no light matter;but Mr. Long had a real affection for Mr. Bransford's neck, and it istrifles like these that make perfection.
The next expedient was even more heroic. Mr. Long assiduously putstone-dust in one eye, leaving it tearful, bloodshot and violentlyinflamed; and the other one was sympathetically red. "Bit o' steel in myeye," explained Mr. Long. Unselfish devotion such as this is all toorare.
All this while, at proper intervals, Mr. Long sharpened and resharpenedthat one long-suffering drill. He tripped into the tunnel and smote amighty blow upon the country rock with a pick--therefore qualifying thatpick for repointing--and laid it on the forge as next on the list.
What further outrage he meditated is not known, for he now heard a horsecoming up the trail. He was beating out a merry tattoo when awhite-hatted head rose through a trapdoor--rose above the level of thedump, rather.
Hammer in hand, Long straightened up joyfully as best he could, butcould not straighten up the telltale droop of his shoulders. It was notaltogether assumed, either, this hump. Jeff--Mr. Long--had not done somuch work of this sort for years and there was a very real pain betweenhis shoulderblades. Still, but for the exigencies of art, he might haveborne his neck less turtlewise than he did.
"Hello! Get him? Where's your pardner?"
"Watching the gap." The young man, rather breathless from the climb,answered the last question first as he led his horse on the dump. "No,we didn't get him; but he can't get away. Hiding somewhere in the Basinafoot. Found his horse. Pretty well done up." The insolence of theoutlaw's letter smote him afresh; he reddened. "No tracks going out ofthe Basin. Two of our friends guarding the other end. They say he can'tget out over the cliffs anywhere. That so?" The speech came jerkily; hewas still short of breath from his scramble.
"Not without a flying machine," said Long. "No way out that I know of,except where the wagonroad goes. What's he done?"
"Robbery! Murder! We'll see that he don't get out by the wagonroad,"asserted the youth confidently. "Watch the gaps and starve him out!"
"Oh, speaking of starving," said Tobe, "go into the tent and I'll bringyou some supper while you tell me about it. Baked up another batch ofbread on the chance you'd come back."
"Why, thank you very much, Mr.----"
"Long--Tobe Long."
"Mr. Long. My name is Gurdon Steele. Glad to meet you. Why, if you willbe so kind--that is what I came up to see you about. If you can let ushave what we need; of course we will pay you for it."
"Of course you won't!" It had not needed the offer to place Mr. GurdonSteele quite accurately. He was a handsome lad, fresh-complexioned,dressed in the Western manner as practised on the Boardwalk. "You'rewelcome to what I got, sure; but I ain't got much variety. Gwin, the oldliar, said he was coming out the twentieth--and sure enough he didn't;so the grub's running low. Table in the tent--come on!"
"Oh, no, I couldn't, you know! Rex--that's my partner--is quite ashungry as I am, you see; but if you could give me something--anythingyou have--to take down there? I really couldn't, you know!" Theadmirable doctrine of _noblesse oblige_ in its delicate application bythis politeness, was easier for its practitioner than to put it intowords suited to the comprehension of his hearer; he concluded lamely:"I'll take it down there and we will eat it together."
"See here," said Tobe, "I'm as hungry to hear about your outlaw as youare to eat. I'll just throw my bedding and a lot of chuck on yoursaddle. We'll carry the coffee-pot and frying-pan in our hands--and thesugar-can and things like that. You can tank up and give me the news insmall chunks at the same time. Afterward two of us can sleep while onestands guard."
This was done. It was growing dark when they reached the bottom of thehill. The third guardsman had built a fire.
"Rex, this is Mr. Long, who has been kind enough to grubstake us andshare our watch with us."
Mr. Steele, you have observed, had accepted Mr. Long without question;but his first impression of Mr. Long had been gained under circumstanceshighly favorable to the designs of the latter gentleman. Mr. Steele hadcome upon him unexpectedly, finding him as it were _in medias res_, withall his skillfully arranged scenery to aid the illusion. The case wasnow otherwise--the thousand-tongued vouching of his background lacked tohim; Mr. Long had naught save his own unthinkable audacity to belie hisface withal. From the first instant Mr. Rex Griffith was the prey ofsuspicions--acute, bigoted, churlish, deep, dark, distrustful, damnable,and so on down to
zealous. He had a sharp eye; he wore no puttees; andMr. Long had a vaguely uncomfortable memory, holding over from someprevious incarnation, of having seen that long, shrewd face in acourtroom.
The host, on hospitable rites intent, likewise all ears and eagerquestionings, was all unconscious of hostile surveillance. Nothing couldbe more carefree, more at ease than his bearing; his pleasantanticipatory excitement was the natural outlook for a lonely andnewsless man. As the hart panteth for the water, so he thirsted for thestory; but his impatient, hasty questions, following false scents,delayed the telling of the Arcadian tale. So innocent was he, so openand aboveboard, that Griffith, watching, alert, felt thoroughly ashamedof himself. Yet he watched, doubting still, though his reason rebelledat the monstrous imaginings of his heart. That the outlaw, unarmed andunasked, should venture--Pshaw! Such effrontery was inconceivable. Heallowed Steele to tell the story, himself contributing only anoccasional crafty question designed to enable his host to betrayhimself.
"Bransford?" interrupted Mr. Long. "Not Jeff Bransford--up South Rainbowway?"
"That's the man," said Steele.
"I don't believe it," said Long flatly. He was sipping coffee with hisguests; he put his cup down. "I know him, a little. He don't----"
"Oh, there's no doubt of it!" interrupted Steele in his turn. Hedetailed the circumstances with skilful care. "Besides, why did he runaway? Gee! You ought to have seen that escape! It was splendid!"
"Well, now, who'd 'a' thought that?" demanded Long, still only halfconvinced. "He didn't strike me like that kind of a man. Well, you nevercan tell! How come you fellows to be chasin' him?"
"You see," said Steele, "every one was sure he had gone up to Rainbow.The sheriff and posse is up there now, looking for him; but wefour--Stone and Harlow, the chaps at the other end, were with us, youknow--we were up in the foothills on a deerhunt. We were outearly--sun-up is the best time for deer, they tell me--and we had aspyglass. Well, we just happened to see a man ride out from between twohills, quite a way off. Stone noticed right away that he was riding asorrel horse. It was a sorrel horse that Bransford stole, you know. Wedidn't suspect, though, who it was till a bit later. Then Rex tried topick him up again and saw that he was going out of his way to avoid theridges--keeping cover, you know. Then we caught on and took after himpell-mell. He had a big start; but he was riding slowly so as not tomake a dust--that is, till he saw our dust. Then he lit out."
"You're not deputies, then?" said Long.
"Oh, no, not at all!" said Steele, secretly flattered. "So Harlow andStone galloped off to town. The program was that they'd wire down toEscondido to have horses ready for them, come down on Number Six andhead him off. They were not to tell any one in Arcadia. There's fivethousand dollars' reward out for him--but it isn't that exactly. It wasa cowardly, beastly murder, don't you know; and we thought it would berather a big thing if we could take him alone."
"You got him penned all right," said Tobe. "He can't get out, so far asI know, unless he runs over us or the men at the other end. By George,we must get away from this fire, too!" He set the example, dragging thebedding with him to the shelter of a big rock. "He could pick us off tooslick here in the light. How're you going to get him? There's a heap ofcountry in that Basin, all rough and broken, full o' boulders--mightygood cover."
"Starve him out!" said Griffith. This was base deceit. Deep in his hearthe believed that the quarry sat beside him, well fed and contented. Yetthe unthinkable insolence of it--if this were indeed Bransford--dulledhis belief.
Long laughed as he spread down the bed. "He'll shoot a deer. Maybe, ifhe had it all planned out, he may have grub cached in there somewhere.There's watertanks in the rocks. Say, what are your pardners at theother side going to do for grub?"
"Oh, they brought out cheese and crackers and stuff," said Gurd.
"I'll tell you what, boys, you've bit off more than you can chaw," saidJeff--Tobe, that is. "He can't get out without a fight--but, then, youcan't go in there to hunt for him without weakening your guard; and he'dbe under shelter and have all the best of it. He'd shoot you so deadyou'd never know what happened. I don't want none of it! I'd as lief puton boxing gloves and crawl into a hole after a bear! Look here, now,this is your show; but I'm a heap older'n you boys. Want to know what Ithink?"
"Certainly," said Rex.
"Goin' to talk turkey to me?" An avaricious light came into Long's eyes.
"Of course; you're in on the reward," said Rex diffidently and ratherstiffly. "We are not in this for the money."
"I can use the money--whatever share you want to give me," said Longdryly; "but if you take my advice my share won't be but a little. Ithink you ought to keep under shelter at the mouth of this canyon--one ofyou--and let the other one go to Escondido and send for help, quick, anda lot of it."
"What's the matter with you going?" asked Griffith disingenuously. Hewanted Long to show his hand. It would never do to abandon the siege ofDouble Mountain to arrest this _soi-disant_ Long on mere suspicion. Onthe other hand, Mr. Rex Griffith had no idea of letting Long escape hisclutches until his identity was established, one way or the other,beyond all question.
That was why Long declined the offer. His honest gaze shifted. "I ain'tmuch of a rider," he said evasively. Young Griffith read correctly thethought which the excuse concealed. Evidently Long considered himself anelder soldier, if not a better, than either of his two young guests, butwished to spare their feelings by not letting them find it out. Griffithfound this plain solution inconsistent with his homicidal theory: amurderer, fleeing for his life, would have jumped at the chance.
There are two sides to every question. Let us, this once, prove bothsides. Wholly oblivious to Griffith's lynx-eyed watchfulness and hisleading questions, Mr. Long yet recognized the futility of an attempt toride away on Mr. Griffith's horse with Mr. Griffith's benison. There wehave the other point of view.
"We'll have to send for grub anyway," pursued the sagacious Mr. Long."I've only got a little left; and that old liar, Gwin, won't be out forfour days--if he comes then. And--er--look here now--if I was you boysI'd let the sheriff and his posse smoke your badger out. They get paidto tend to that--and it looks to me like some one was going to get hurt.You've done enough."
All this advice was so palpably sound that the doubter was, for thesecond, staggered--for a second only. This was the man he had seen inthe prisoner's dock. He was morally sure of it. For all the differenceof appearance, this was the man. Yet those blasts--the far-seenfire--the hearty welcome--this delivery of himself into their hands?...Griffith scarcely knew what he did think. He blamed himself for hisunworthy suspicions; he blamed Gurdy more for having no suspicions atall.
"Anything else?" he said. "That sounds good."
Tobe studied for some time.
"Well," he said at last, "there may be some way he can get out. I don'tthink he can--but he might find a way. He knows he's trapped; but likelyhe has no idea yet how many of us there are. So we know he'll try, andhe won't be just climbing for fun. He'll take a chance."
Steele broke in:
"He didn't leave any rope on his saddle."
Tobe nodded.
"So he means to try it. Now here's five of us here. It seems to me thatsome one ought to ride round the mountain the first thing in themorning, and every day afterward--only here's hoping there won't be manyof 'em--to look for tracks. There isn't one chance in a hundred he canclimb out; but if he goes out of here afoot we've got him sure. The manon guard wants to keep in shelter. It's light to-night--there's nochance for him to slip out without being seen. You say the old watchmanain't dead yet, Mr. Griffith?"
"No. The latest bulletin was that he was almost holding his own."
"Hope he gets well," said Long. "Good old geezer! Now, cap, I've workedhard and you've ridden hard. Better set your guards and let the othertwo take a little snooze."
Griffith was not proof against the insidious flattery of this unhesitantpreference. He flushed with embarrassment and pleasu
re.
"Well, if I'm to be captain, Gurd will take the first guard--tilleleven. Then you come on till two, Mr. Long. I'll stand from then ontill daylight."
In five minutes Mr. Long was enjoying the calm and restful sleep offatigued innocence; but his poor captain was doomed to have a bad nightof it, with two Bransfords on his hands--one in the Basin and one in thebed beside him. His head was dizzy with the vicious circle. Like thegentlewoman of the nursery rhyme, he was tempted to cry: "Lawk 'a' mercyon me, this is none of I!"
If he haled his bedmate to justice and the real Bransford got away--thatwould be a nice predicament for an ambitious young man! He was sensitiveto ridicule, and he saw here such an opportunity to earn it as knocksbut once at any man's door.
If, on the other hand, while he held Bransford cooped tightly in theBasin, this thrice-accursed Long should escape him and there should beno Bransford in the Basin----What nonsense! What utter twaddle!Bransford was in the Basin. He had found his horse and saddle, histracks; no tracks had come out of the Basin. Immediately on thediscovery of the outlaw's horse, Gurd had ridden back posthaste and heldthe pass while he, the captain, had gone to the mouth of the southerncanyon and posted his friends. He had watched for tracks of a footmanevery step of the way, going and coming; there had been no tracks.Bransford was in the Basin. He watched the face of the sleeping man.But, by Heaven, this was Bransford!
Was ever a poor captain in such a predicament? A moment before he hadfully and definitely decided once for all that this man was notBransford, could not be Bransford; that it was not possible! His reasonunwaveringly told him one thing, his eyesight the other!... YetBransford, or an unfortunate twin of his, lay now beside him--and, forfurther mockery, slept peacefully, serene, untroubled.... He looked uponthe elusive Mr. Long with a species of horror! The face was drawn andlined. Yet, but forty-eight hours of tension would have leftBransford's face not otherwise. He had noticed Bransford's hands in thecourtroom--noticed their well-kept whiteness, due, as he had decided, tothe perennial cowboy glove. This man's hands, as he had seen by thecampfire, were blistered and calloused! Callouses were not made in aday. He took another look at Long. Oh, thunder!
He crept from bed. He whispered a word to sentry Steele; not to outlinethe distressing state of his own mind, but merely to request Steele notto shoot him, as he was going up to the mine.
He climbed up the trail, chewing the unpalatable thought that Gurdon hadseen nothing amiss--yet Gurd had been at the trial! The captain began towish he had never gone on that deerhunt.
He went into the tent, struck a match, lit a candle and examinedeverything closely. There was no gun in the camp and no cartridges. Hefound the spill of twisted paper under the table, smothered his qualmsand read it. He noted the open book for future examination in English.And now Tobe's labors had their late reward, for Rex missed nothing.Every effort brought fresh disappointment and every disappointmentspurred him to fresh effort. He went into the tunnel; he scrutinizedeverything, even to the drills in the tub. The food supply tallied withLong's account. No detail escaped him and every detail confirmed thegrowing belief that he, Captain Griffith, was a doddering imbecile.
He returned to the outpost, convinced at last. Nevertheless, merely toquiet the ravings of his insubordinate instincts, now in open revolt, herestaked the horses nearer to camp and cautiously carried both saddlesto the head of the bed. Concession merely encouraged the rebels tofurther and successful outrages--the government was overthrown.
He drew sentry Steele aside and imparted his doubts. That faithfulfollower heaped scorn, mockery, laughter and abuse upon his shrinkingsuperior: recounted all the points, from the first blasts of dynamite tothe present moment, which favored the charitable belief above mentionedas newly entertained by Captain Griffith concerning himself. This beliefof Captain Griffith was amply indorsed by his subordinate in terms ofpoint and versatility.
"Of course they look alike. I noticed that the minute I saw him--thesame amount of legs and arms, features all in the fore part of his head,hair on top, one body--wonderful! Why, you pitiful ass, that Bransfordperson was a mighty keen-looking man in any company. This fellow's ayokel--an old, rusty, cap-and-ball, single-shot muzzle-loader. TheBransford was an automatic, steel-frame, high velocity----"
"The better head he has the more apt he is to do the unexpected----"
"Aw, shut up! You've got incipient paresis! Stuff your ears in yourmouth and go to sleep!"
The captain sought his couch convinced, but holding his first opinion,savagely minded to arrest Mr. Long rather than let him have a gun tostand guard with. He was spared the decision. Mr. Long declined Gurdon'sproffered gun, saying that he would be right there and he was a poorshot anyway.
Gurdon slept; Long took his place--and Captain Rex, from the bed,watched the watcher. Never was there a more faithful sentinel than Mr.Long. Without relaxing his vigilance even to smoke, he strained everyfaculty lest the wily Bransford should creep out through the shadows.The captain saw him, a stooped figure, sitting motionless by his rock,always alert, peering this way and that, turning his head to listen.Once Tobe saw something. He crept noiselessly to the bed and shook hischief. Griffith came, with his gun. Something was stirring in thebushes. After a little it moved out of the shadows. It was a prowlingcoyote. The captain went back to bed once more convinced of Long'sfidelity, but resolved to keep a relentless eye on him just the same.And all unawares, as he revolved the day's events in his mind, thecaptain dropped off to troubled sleep.
Mr. Long woke him at three. There had been a temptation to ride away,but the saddles were at the head of the bed, the ground was stony; hewould be heard. He might have made an attempt to get both guns fromunder the pillow, but detection meant ruin for him, since to shoot theseboys or to hurt them was out of the question. Escape by violence wouldhave been easy and assured. Jeff preferred to trust his wits. He wasenjoying himself very much.
When the captain got his relentless eyes open and realized what hadchanced he saw that further doubt was unworthy. Half an hour later theunworthy captain stole noiselessly to Long's bedside and saw, to hisutter rage and distraction, that Mr. Bransford was there again. It wasalmost too much to bear. He felt that he should always hate Long, evenafter Bransford was safely hanged. Bransford's head had slipped fromLong's pillow. Hating himself, Griffith subtly withdrew the miner'sfolded overalls and went through the pockets.
He found there a knife smelling of dynamite, matches, a turquoise carvedto what was plainly meant to be the form of a bad-tempered horse, andtwo small specimens of ore!
Altogether, the captain passed a wild and whirling night.
Bransford of Rainbow Range Page 13
