CHAPTER XVIII
A RESCUE AND A VIGILANCE COMMITTEE
At the end of an hour, or so, the lion withdrew and Wade thought he hadseen the last of it. He began to pace up and down the fissure once more,for now that his thin shirt was damp with perspiration, set flowing bythe nervous strain he had been under, he began to get chilly again. Hehad just begun to warm up, when he heard the animal returning. Hecrouched back against the cavern wall, but the lion had evidently lostthe zest for such impossible prey. It walked about and sniffed at theedges of the fissure for some minutes; then it sneaked off into thetimber with a cat-like whimper.
The exhausted ranchman kept his feet as long as he could, but when thefirst rays of the morning sun cast purple shadows into the depths of thehole, he could no longer keep awake. With his hands, he drifted theloose sand about him, as travelers do when exposed to a snow-blizzard,and slept until Goat Neale aroused him, in broad daylight. The Texanperformed this service by deftly dropping a small stone upon thesleeping man's face.
"I just stepped over to inquire what you-all'd like for breakfast thismornin'," he said with a grin. "Not that it matters much, 'cause thedumb-waiter down to where you be ain't waitin' to-day, but it'smanners, kinder, to ask."
Wade looked up at him grimly, but said nothing. Just awake as he was,his healthy stomach clamored for food, but since none would be givenhim, he knew that he might as well try to be patient.
"Mebbe you'd like to step over to our hotel an' take your meals, eh?"The Texan went on, after a short pause. "I've got a pot of coffee bilin'an' a mess o' bacon fryin'. No?" He grinned sardonically. "How'd youlike me to give you some o' this here cabareet stuff, while you'rewaitin'? I ain't no great shucks as a entertainer, but I'll do what Ican. Mebbe, you'd like to know how I happened to catch you that clump onthe head yesterday. Huh?
"I was up in the low branches of a thick pine, where you was moseyin'along. You was that busy watchin' the ground, you never thought to raisethem eyes o' yourn. I just reached down and lammed you good with a pieceof stick, an' here you be, safe an' sound as a beetle in a log. Hereyou'll stay, too, likely, on-less you get some sense, and I don't knowwhen that there dumbwaiter'll get to runnin'. It's a shame, too, if youask me, 'cause a man needs his three or four squares a day in this hereclimate."
"How much do you want to give me a hand out of here, Neale?" thecattleman demanded abruptly, tired of listening to the fellow'smonotonous drawl; and after all the chance was worth taking.
The eyes of the Texan glittered.
"Got the money on you?"
"You'd get the money all right."
"Sure, son, I know that--if you had it! I'd just hold my gun on you, an'you'd toss the roll up here, without puttin' me to the trouble o' givin'you no hand." He chuckled in appreciation of his own humor. "But I knowyou ain't got it on you--we frisked you down yonder in the timber--an' Idon't deal in no promises. This here is a cash game. If I thoughttha...."
He whirled about suddenly, looking behind him and seemed to listen foran instant; then his hand dropped to the gun at his hip. He never drewthe weapon, however, for with a horrible facial grimace, as his bodycontorted under the impact of a bullet, he threw his arms into the airand reeled over the edge of the hole. A second afterward the report of arifle came to Wade's ears.
"Hello!" the rancher shouted, springing from under the Texan's fallingbody. The instant it struck the sand, Wade snatched Neale's revolverfrom its holster and waited for him to try to rise; but he did not move.A bloody froth stained his lips, while a heavier stain on his shirt,just under the heart, told where the bullet had struck. The man wasdead.
"Hello! Hello!" Wade shouted repeatedly, and discharged the revolverinto the sand. He realized that, although a friend must have fired therifle, there was nothing to show where he was. "Hello!"
"Hello!" The hail was answered by the newcomer, who, thus guided,approached the spot until his voice was near at hand. "Hello!"
"Hello! Come on!" The prisoner threw his hat up out of the hole. "Here Iam!"
The next moment Bill Santry, with tears streaming down hisweather-beaten cheeks, was bending over the edge of the fissure withdown-stretched hands. Beneath his self-control the old man wassoft-hearted as a woman, and in his delight he now made no attempt torestrain himself.
"Thank Gawd for this minute!" he exclaimed. "Give me your hands, boy. Ican just reach 'em if I stretch a little an' you jump." Wade did so andwas drawn up out of the hole. "Thank Gawd! Thank Gawd!" the old fellowkept exclaiming, patting his employer on the back. "Didn't hurt youmuch, did they?"
Before Wade could answer, a patter of hoofs caused him to turn, asDorothy slipped from Gypsy's bare back and ran toward him. She stumbledwhen she had almost reached him, and he caught her in his arms.
"Are you all right? Oh, your head! It's hurt--see, the blood?" She clungto him and searched his face with her eyes, while he tried to sootheher.
"It's nothing, just a bad bruise, but how--?" He checked the questionupon his lips. "We mustn't stay here. Moran may have...."
"There ain't nobody here. I wish to Gawd he was here. I'd...." Santry'sface was twisted with rage. "'Course," he added, "I knew it was him,so'd Lem Trowbridge. But we come right smack through their camp, andthere was nobody there. This here skunk that I plugged, he must be theonly one. I got him, I reckon."
"Yes," Wade answered simply, as he watched three men from the Trowbridgeranch ride up to them. "Where's Lem?"
Dorothy explained that she had set out to find him in company with theman she had met at the big pine; but on the way they had met Santry andthe three cowboys. One of the men had then ridden on to Bald Knob afterTrowbridge, while the rest had come straight to Coyote Springs. Shetried to speak quietly, but she could not keep the song of happiness outof her voice, or the love out of her eyes.
"Then you did this, too?" Wade wrung her hands and looked at herproudly. "But how--I don't understand?"
"I'll tell you, when we're in the saddle," she said shyly. "There's somuch to tell."
"Santry!" The ranch owner threw his arm fondly across the shoulders ofhis foreman. "You, too, and Lem. I've got all my friends to thank. Say,dig a grave for this fellow, Neale. There was a lion around here lastnight, and I'd hate to have him get Neale, bad as he was. Then--" Hisvoice became crisp with determination. "Hunt up Trowbridge and ask himto pass the word for everybody to meet at the ranch, as soon aspossible. There's going to be open war here in the valley from now on."He turned again to Dorothy. "Dorothy, I'm going to take you right onhome with me."
"Oh, but...." The gleam in his eyes made her pause. She was too glad tohave found him safe, besides, to wish to cross him in whatever might behis purpose.
"No buts about it. I'll send for your mother, too, of course. Town won'tbe any place for either of you until this business is settled. George!"he called to one of the three cowmen, who rode over to him. "I supposeit'll be all right for you to take orders from me?"
"I reckon so."
"I want you to ride into Crawling Water. Get a buckboard there and bringMrs. Purnell out to my place. Tell her that her daughter is there, andshe'll come. Come now, little girl." He caught Dorothy in his arms andlifted her on to Gypsy's back. "All right, boys, and much obliged." Hewaved the little cavalcade on its way, and swung into the saddle on theextra horse, which Santry had provided.
On the way down through the timber, Dorothy modestly told him of thepart she had played, with the help of Lem Trowbridge. He listened withamazement to the story of her generalship, and was relieved to hear thatthe Rexhills were probably already out of Crawling Water, for that lefthim a free hand to act against Moran. This time the agent must sufferthe penalty of his misdeeds, but greater even than his pleasure at thatthought, was Wade's gratitude to Dorothy for all she had done for him.He was filled with a wonderful tenderness for her, which made him see inthe play of her facial expression; the shy lowering of her lashes; thecolor which ebbed and flowed in her cheeks; the free use which she madeof her red lip
s, a greater fascination than she had ever before exertedover him. There, in the fissure, he had expected never to be at her sideagain, and now that he was so, and knew what she had come to mean tohim, the old friendship between them seemed no longer possible;certainly not from his side. He felt, in its place, all the confusion ofa lover, anxious to speak and yet struck dumb with clumsiness and thefear, never absent no matter what the degree of encouragement, that hissuit might not find favor with the lady when put into words.
"You're a wonderful girl," he burst out, at last, with a heartinessthat, in bringing a flush to her cheeks, made the old phrase seem new toher ears.
"I'm not at all," she denied shyly. "I just had to do it, that was all.People always do what they have to do."
"They do not. Lots of them can't, but you--you're always capable; that'swhat makes you so wonderful, Dorothy!" He pulled his horse closer tohers, meaning to put his arm around her, but he dared not attempt it,when her dress brushed his sleeve.
"Yes?" She was trembling now far more than when she had faced theRexhills. "What is it?"
His arm dropped to his side, and he suddenly became acutely conscious ofhis appearance, what with his blood-matted hair; his blood-stained andsoiled face; his generally woe-begone and desperate state. At least,before he risked his future on such a question, he ought to makehimself as presentable as he could.
"Nothing."
"But--" She looked at him curiously. "You were going to say something,weren't you?"
"Yes; but I'm not going to do it until I can get to a hair-brush, and awash-basin, and a clean shirt," he answered lugubriously. "What I've goton my mind is a church-going sentiment and I want to be in church-goingclothes." The expression of his countenance contributed more than hiswords to the humor he strove for, and she laughed at him, merrily withher mouth, very tenderly with her eyes.
"There's the house." She pointed ahead. "Even though I'm ridingbareback, I can beat you to it. Come on!"
Once Wade was within reach of food, his hunger became insistent, and hecould not wait for the cook to prepare a meal of fried chicken. Heforaged in the larder beforehand, and then did full justice to the mealput before him. By the time this was over, Mrs. Purnell arrived, and hehad no chance to get into his "church-going clothes," as he called them.He had to tell the old lady all that had befallen him.
"I never would have thought it of that Miss Rexhill," Mrs. Purnelldeclared.
"It wasn't Miss Rexhill, it was her father and Race Moran," Dorothyinterposed.
"Or the Senator either, speaking merely from the looks of him," hermother retorted. "And think of the position he holds, a Senator of theUnited States!"
"That's no hall-mark of virtue these days," Wade laughed.
"Well, it should be. If we're to have people like him running theNation, there's no telling where we'll end."
"It just goes to show how an honest man, for I think Rexhill was anhonest man when I first knew him, can go wrong by associating with thewrong people," said Wade. He could not forget his earlier friendship forthe Rexhills, and to him the word friendship meant much. "He not onlygot in with a bad crowd, but he got going at a pace that wrung money outof him every time he moved. Then, in the last election, he was hit hard,and I suppose he felt that he had to recoup, even if he had to sacrificehis friends to do it. We mustn't judge a man like that too hard. We livedifferently out here, and maybe we don't understand those temptations.I'm mighty glad they've gone away. I can get right down to work now,without any qualms of conscience."
"But think of you, Dorothy, out all night in those mountains!" Mrs.Purnell exclaimed.
"Mother--" Dorothy smiled tenderly. "You always think backward toyesterday, instead of forward to to-morrow."
By then, the first of the neighboring ranchers were drifting in, inresponse to Wade's summons. When all were present, and Trowbridge hadwrung Wade's hand in a hearty pressure of congratulation, they wereasked into the living-room, where Santry stood in a corner, munchingslowly on a mouthful of tobacco and smiling grimly to himself.
"Gentlemen," began Wade, facing the little group of stern-faced men,"you all know why we are here. To a greater or lesser extent, we've allsuffered from Race Moran's depredations, although until lately none ofus knew his motive. Now, however, we know that there is gold here in thevalley--on our land--which Moran is trying to get possession of. He hasproved that he is willing to resort to any villainy to get what hewants, and while he and his men are at large our lives and most of ourranches are in danger.
"We have tried the law, but it has not helped us. Such little law as wehave here is entirely in the hands of the enemy. We must now assume thedirection of our own affairs. Many of you have already served in avigilance committee, and you all know the purpose of such anorganization. My idea is to form one now to take possession of CrawlingWater and run Moran and his hired bullies out of the county. Between us,we can muster about a hundred men; more than enough to turn the trick,and the quicker we get to work the sooner we'll be able to go about ourbusiness affairs without fear of being shot in the back. My plan isthis: Let us assemble our force quietly, ride into Crawling Water,capture Moran and his followers, and escort them out of the county.There must be no lynching or unnecessary bloodshed; but if they resist,as some of them will, we must use such force as is needed to overcomethem."
He stopped speaking, and for some minutes silence prevailed. Then BillSantry shifted the quid in his cheek, spat unerringly through the openwindow, and began to talk. His loose-jointed figure had suddenly becometense and forceful; his lean face was determined and very grim.
"Being as I've suffered some from this skunk, and have lived here somewhile, so to say, mebbe I can horn in?" he began.
"Go ahead!" said Wade heartily.
"Gordon here has stated the gist o' this business a whole lot better'n Icould, but I'd like to make a few additional remarks. We've all beenneighbors for some years, and in the natural course of things we've beenpretty good friends. Until this feller, Moran, got to monkeyin' aroundhere, there wasn't no trouble to talk about, and we was all able tocarry on our work calm and peaceful like. But since this skunk campedamong us, we ain't hardly knowed what a decent sleep is like; he'sgrabbed our range, butchered our stock, shot up our men, lied, andcarried on high, in general. We've given the law a chance to do thesquare thing by us. All we asked was a fair shake, and we turned theother cheek, as the Bible says, hopin' that we could win through withouttoo much fightin', but we've been handed the muddy end of the stickevery time. It's come to a showdown, gents. We either got to let Morando as he damn pleases 'round here, or show him that he's tackled abuzz-saw. Most of us was weaned some earlier than the day beforeyisterday. We gradooated from the tenderfoot class some time back, andit's up to us to prove it."
He paused and looked around him earnestly for a moment; then, as hisaudience remained silent, he went on:
"I'm older'n you men, an' I've lived a heap in my time. For nearly fortyyears I've been knockin' 'round this Western country without no nurse orguardeen to look after me. I've mixed with all kinds, and I've been insome scrapes; there's notches on my gun handles to prove that I ain'tbeen no quitter. I've rode with the vigilantes more'n once, and thevigilantes has rode after me--more'n once; in my young days I wa'n'texactly what you'd call a nickel-plated saint. But I never killed a man,'cept in a fair fight, an' I don't believe in violence unless it'snecessary. It's necessary right now, fellers! Moran's gone too far!Things have drawed to a point where we've got to fight or quit. In myexperience, I ain't never seen but one judge that couldn't be bought;money an' influence don't count a whoop with him. It's Judge Colt,gents! You all know him; an' with him on our side we can round up Moranan' his crew of gun-fighters, an' ship 'em out of the country for keeps.Now's the time! The quicker we get busy, the quicker the air in thesehills will be fit for a white man to breathe."
"It's a go with me," Lem Trowbridge declared grimly. "That's what I'mhere for. How about the rest of you?"
When the ot
her stock men assented, Wade smiled, for he knew their type.Honest, hard-working, peace-loving men though they were, when arousedthey possessed the courage and tenacity of bull-dogs. They were arousednow, and they would carry on to the end, with a step as firm andrelentless as the march of Time. Woe to whoever attempted to thwart themin their purpose!
Wade's neighbor to the north, Dave Kelly, spoke up in his slow, nasaldrawl. "You say there's to be no lynchin'," he remarked. "How about TugBailey, when he gets here from Sheridan? According to what Lem says,Bailey shot Jensen."
"Sure, he did," Trowbridge put in. "We'll just slip a noose over hishead and make him confess. That'll publicly clear Gordon and Bill. Thenwe'll give him a good coat of tar and feathers and run him out of town."
"That's right," said Santry. "Jensen was only a Swede and a sheepherder.This here committee's to protect men."
Kelly chuckled. "Have it your own way," he said. "I'm not particular. Asit is, there'll be plenty doing."
For an hour or more the cattlemen went over the plan of their campaign,which worked out into simplicity itself. Early the next evening theywould marshal their force outside of Crawling Water, each man armed andmounted. After dark they would ride up the main street, where they wouldhalt at each crossing, while a squad detailed for the purpose searchedeach saloon and other gathering place for members of Moran's gang. Afterthe prisoners were rounded up they would be assembled in a compact bodyand marched to the railroad where they would be set free, under threatof instant death if they ever returned to Crawling Water.
Although counting on superior numbers and the morale of his men, Wade,who had been chosen to command the little army, knew that there would beconsiderable hard fighting. Moran's people would probably be scatteredand otherwise unprepared for the attack, but many of them would resistto the death. If Moran should attempt an organized resistance, thecattlemen meant to storm the town. Once the first shot was fired, thefight would be to a finish, for any other outcome than victory wouldspell ruin for the cattle interests in that section.
The prospect was more than serious. Moran had established himself inCrawling Water and practically ruled it, surrounded as he was by somesixty adherents, the off-scouring of a dozen lawless communities. Thedecent citizens held aloof from him, but on the other hand the lowerelement viewed his reign with favor. The gamblers, particularly MonteJoe, who proclaimed himself Moran's lieutenant, had welcomed him, as hadthe saloonkeepers, to all of whom the presence of his men meant gainfultrade. The better class, in the town itself, was in the minority andunable to restrain the unbridled license which flourished everywhere.
No matter how stiff Moran's resistance proved, however, Wade felt verysure of the final result. He knew the men in his party and he knew thatthey meant business. He was relieved to believe that Dorothy and hermother would be safe at the ranch until after the trouble was over, andthat Helen and Senator Rexhill had left Crawling Water. The two factionswere now arrayed against each other almost like opposing armies, and thecattleman shuddered to think what his state of mind would have been hadDorothy and Mrs. Purnell remained in Crawling Water.
"You'll be entirely safe here," he told them, when he was ready to leavefor Crawling Water on the following evening. "I shall leave Barker tolook after your wants, but you won't really need him. There isn't asheepherder, or any of the Moran gang, between here and Crawling Water.The fighting will all be in town, thank goodness."
At the word "fighting" Dorothy caught her breath sharply, too proud tourge him against his duty and yet afraid for him. He had not been ableto muster courage enough to speak to her of what was in his heart,foolish though that was in him, and he sat there in the saddle for amoment, looking tenderly down on her as she stood smoothing out hishorse's forelock.
"Do be careful of yourself, Gordon," Mrs. Purnell called to him from theporch, but he did not hear her.
"I haven't had a chance yet to get into my church-going clothes, haveI?" he said whimsically to Dorothy, who flushed prettily and lookedaway.
"I don't see what clothes have to do with talking to me," she said halfcoyly and half mischievously.
"Neither do I," he agreed. She had stepped aside and his horse's headwas free. "I guess they haven't a thing to do with it, but I haven'tbeen seeing things exactly straight lately. I reckon I've been halflocoed."
Touching his horse with the spurs, he loped away to join Santry, who waswaiting for him on ahead.
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