CHAPTER XXXIV
RAMONA GOES DUCK-HUNTING
"I'm going duck-hunting, Daddy," announced Ramona one evening at supper."Quint Sullivan is going with me. We're to get up early in the morningand leave before daybreak."
They had been back at the ranch several weeks, and 'Mona was tired ofpracticing on the piano and reading Scott's novels after her work aboutthe house was done. She was restless. Her father had noticed it andwondered why. He would have been amazed to learn that the longing to seeor hear about a certain brindle-haired former line-rider of his hadanything to do with her unrest. Indeed, Ramona did not confess this evento herself. She tried to think that she had been cooped up in the housetoo long. Hence the duck-hunting as an escape.
"All right, honey. I'll give Quint notice who his boss is to-morrow."
"I've already given him his orders, Dad," his daughter said, with asaucy little _moue_ at her father.
Clint chuckled. "'Nough said. When you give orders I take a back seat.Every rider on the place knows that. I'm the most henpecked dad inTexas."
By daybreak Ramona and her escort were several miles from the ranch ontheir way to the nearest lake. Quint was a black-haired, good-lookingyouth who rode the range for the A T O outfit. Like most of theunmarried men about her between the ages of fifteen and fifty, heimagined himself in love with the daughter of the boss. He had noexpectation whatever of marrying her. He would as soon have thought ofasking Wadley to give him a deed to the ranch as he would of mentioningto Ramona the state of his feelings. But that young woman, in spite ofher manner of frank innocence, knew quite accurately how matters stood,just as she knew that in due time Quint would transfer his misplacedaffections to some more reciprocal object of them.
Her particular reason for selecting Quint as her companion of the daywas that he happened to be a devoted admirer of Jack Roberts. All oneneeded to do was to mention the Ranger to set him off on a string ofillustrative anecdotes, and Ramona was hungry for the very sound of hisname. One advantage in talking to young Sullivan about his friend wasthat the ingenuous youth would never guess that the subject of theirconversation had been chosen by her rather than by him.
"Did I ever tell you, Miss Ramona, about the time Texas an' me went toDenver? Gentlemen, hush! We ce'tainly had one large time."
"You boys ought not to spend your time in the saloons whenever you go totown. It isn't good for you," reproved the sage young woman who was"going-on seventeen."
She was speaking for a purpose, and Quint very innocently answered thequestion in her mind.
"No, ma'am. I reckon you're right. But we didn't infest the saloons nonethat time. Texas, he's one of these here good bad-men. He's onesure-enough tough nut, an' I'd hate to try to crack him, but the queerthing is he don't drink or chew or go hellin' around with the boys. But,say, he's some live lad, lemme tell you. What do you reckon he pulledoff on me whilst we was in Denver?"
"Some foolishness, I suppose," said Ramona severely, but she was notmissing a word.
"He meets up with a newspaper guy an' gets to fillin' him plumb full o'misinformation about me. To hear him tell it I was the white-haired guyfrom the Panhandle an' had come to Denver for to hunt a girl to marry.Well, that reporter he goes back an' writes a piece in his paper abouthow it was the chance of a lifetime for any onmarried fe-male, of evendisposition an' pleasin' appearance, between the ages of twenty an'thirty-five, to marry a guaranteed Texas cowpuncher, warranted kind an'sound an' to run easy in double harness. An' would the ladies pleasecome early to the St. Peter hotel an' inquire for Mr. Quint Sullivan."
"Did any of them come?" asked Ramona, her eyes dancing.
"Did they? Wow! They swarmed up the stairs an' crowded the elevators,while that doggoned Tex sicked 'em on me. Honest, I didn't know therewas so many onmarried ladies in the world."
"How did you escape?" asked the girl, well aware that he was drawing thelong bow.
"Ma'am, the fire department rescued me. But I ce'tainly did lie awakethe balance of the trip tryin' to get even with Jack Roberts. But it'sno manner of use. He lands right-side up every time."
After they had reached Crane Lake the cowpuncher tied the horses whileRamona started around to the far side, following the shore line andkeeping her eyes open for ducks. The girl made a half-circuit of thelake without getting a shot. There were ducks enough to be seen, but asyet none of them were within range.
It might have been half an hour after Ramona left Sullivan that therecame a shot from the other side of the lake. It was followed almostimmediately by a second, a third, and a fourth. 'Mona caught sight ofQuint running fast toward the horses. Her heart felt a suddenconstriction as of an iron band tightening upon it, for half a dozenmounted Indians were in hot pursuit. She saw the boy reach the nearestbronco, jerk loose the bridle rein, vault to the saddle, and gallopaway, lying low on the back of the horse. The Indians fired from theirhorses as they rode, but the man flying for his life did not take timeto shoot.
For a moment 'Mona stood in plain view by the lake shore. Then shedropped among the rushes, her heart fluttering wildly like that of aforest bird held captive in the hand. She was alone, at the mercy oftwoscore of hostile Indians. They would know that the cowboy had acompanion because of the second bronco, and as soon as they returnedfrom the pursuit they would begin a search for her. Perhaps they mightnot even wait till then. 'Mona lay there in despair while one might havecounted a hundred. During that time she gave herself up for lost. Shecould neither move nor think. But presently there flowed back into herheart a faint hope. Perhaps she had not yet been seen. There was alittle arroyo farther to the left. If she could reach it, stillunnoticed, at least she could then run for her life.
She crept through the rushes on hands and knees, sinking sometimeswrist-deep in water. There was one stretch of perhaps thirty yards atthe end of the rushes that had to be taken without cover. She flewacross the open, a miracle of supple lightness, reached the safety ofthe little gulch, and ran as she had never run before. Every moment sheexpected to hear the crash of the pursuers breaking through the brush.
On the ranch she had lived largely an outdoor life, and in spite of herslenderness was lithe and agile. Beneath her soft flesh hard musclesflowed, for she had known the sting of sleet and the splash of sun. Butthe rapid climb had set her heart pumping fast. Her speed began toslacken.
Near the summit was a long, uptilted stratum of rock which led to theleft and dipped over the ridge. She followed this because no trackswould here betray where she had escaped. For almost a quarter of a mileshe descended on the outcropping quartz, flying in an ecstasy of terrorfrom the deadly danger that might at any instant appear on the crest ofthe divide behind her.
Ramona came to a cleft in the huge boulder, a deep, narrow gash thatlooked as if it might have been made by a sword stroke of the gods. Shepeered into the shadowy gulf, but could not see the bottom of thefissure. A pebble dropped by her took so long to strike that she knewthe chasm must be deep.
If she could get down into it, perhaps she might hide from the savages.It was her one possible chance of escape. The girl moved along the edgeof the precipice trying to find a way down that was not sheer. Anarrowweed thicket had struggled up from a jutting spar of rock. Belowthis was a ridge where her foot might find a support. Beyond was a rockwall that disappeared into empty space. But 'Mona could not choose. Shemust take this or nothing.
By means of the arrowweed she lowered herself over the edge while herfoot groped for the spar of quartz. Her last look up the hill showedIndians pouring across the ridge in pursuit. Without hesitation shechose the chances of death in the cavern to the certainty of the torturewaiting for her outside. Foot by foot she lowered herself, making themost of every irregularity in the rock wall that offered a grip for handor foot. The distance down seemed interminable. She worked herself intoa position where she could move neither up nor down. While her foot wassearching for a brace one of her hands slipped and she went the rest ofthe way with a rush.
For a time she lay there in the darkness, shaken and bruised by thefall, a sharp pain shooting through one of her legs just above theankle. During those minutes of daze voices came to her from the slit oflight above. The painted face of an Apache leaned over the edge of thewall and looked into the gulf.
The girl made not the least movement. She did not stir to relieve thepain of her leg. Scarcely did she dare breathe lest the sound of itmight reach those above.
The Apaches began to fire into the fissure. Ramona noiselessly draggedherself close to the overhanging wall. Shot after shot was flung intothe cavern at random. Fortunately for Ramona the strain of the situationrelaxed abruptly. A wave of light-headedness seemed to carry herfloating into space. She fainted.
When she came to herself no sound reached the girl from above. TheIndians had no doubt concluded that their victim was not in the cavernand taken up the pursuit again. But she knew the cunning of the Apache.Probably one or two braves had been left to watch the cleft. She layquite still and listened. All she could hear was the fearful beating ofher heart.
For hours she lay there without making a sound. The patience of theApache is proverbial. It was possible they knew where she was and werewaiting for her to deliver herself to them.
'Mona had one ghastly comfort. The little revolver she had brought alongwith which to shoot rattlesnakes was still in its scabbard by her side.If they would give her only a moment or two of warning, she would neverfall alive into the hands of the redskins.
Time was unmarked for her in the darkness of the cavern. She could nottell whether it was still morning or whether the afternoon was nearingan end. Such a day, so full of dreadful horrors, so long from morningtill night, she had never before passed. It seemed to her that a week ofhours had come and gone before the light above began to fade.
Oh, You Tex! Page 35
