CHAPTER XVII
VAN HORN TRAILS HAWK
A bomb exploding in the smoking remnants could hardly have caused moreconsternation among the man hunters than the Snipe's naming of AbeHawk. But however Doubleday's jaw set at the unwelcome surprise he wasnot the one to swerve in the face of any personal danger, and thosewith him were not men to bolt whatever adventure they embarked in.However, it was remarked by the Snipe that those least acquainted withAbe were least disturbed by the news of his almost certain presence inthe cabin the day and night before and his escape after the fight.
Common prudence made it necessary to cross the small divide with careand to get word of the unpleasant discovery as soon as possible to VanHorn in order that he and his companions might not be picked off by thewounded man from ambush. The Snipe was assigned to Hawk's trail andtwo men were sent to the wings to scout for him among the rocks.Bradley rode to warn Van Horn; but the old man did not sweat his horsein the effort.
The trackers soon made it plain to those behind that the escaping manhad ridden a pretty straight course himself, and had picked his way inthe night like one thoroughly at home in the hills of the Turkey. Andthough losing the trail at times, the Snipe had no serious trouble inpicking it again from the grass or the rocks.
The country lying north of the forks of the Turkey is rougher than tothe south and pretty well covered with pine. On the Northern slope,Hawk's trail led down a long and winding break mile after mile and inthe end pointed straight for his shack on the creek.
Moving as nearly as possible in the order in which they had started,the party emerged from the hills half a mile from the creek, and notmuch farther from Hawk's, when they encountered Bradley and Van Hornwith one of his men. Doubleday hoarsely asked for the news.
Van Horn rode up close before he answered, and, though his tone wasconfident, his manner showed his annoyance at the way things hadturned: "Robinson's shack was empty," he said. "Whether he got wind ofyesterday I don't know; anyway, he's skipped--there's nothing left onhis place."
"What's there to this talk of Barney's about Abe Hawk?" demandedDoubleday.
"From what Bradley says, it looks as if he might be right," said VanHorn. "The horse Hawk took is eating grass in front of his cabin; wesaw him when we got here and waited for Hawk to show himself."
"He didn't do it," interrupted Doubleday huskily and baring his teethas he spoke.
"Stone's watching the place."
"Is Abe there?" demanded Doubleday.
"You tell," responded Van Horn. "He may or may not be. That horse maybe a stall. We've got to close in somehow on the shack and find out."
A cowboy clattered up from the creek and pulled his horse to itshaunches between Doubleday and Van Horn: "He's just closed the door,"declared the cowboy. "The door was open when we got here--wasn't it,Harry?" He pointed his finger at Van Horn in his excited appeal.
Van Horn scowled and waved his head from side to side in irritation:"The door was open, yes; the door is shut, yes." Then he swore at thealarmist: "You blamed monkey," he pointed to the cottonwood. "Don'tyou see how the wind is blowing? That door has been swinging half anhour. The shack is empty."
But nobody could be found with confidence enough in Van Horn's beliefto close in and demonstrate its truth. After a litany of hard words inwhich everybody took more or less part, Van Horn declared he woulddemonstrate. Whatever his faults, he was dead game, a formidableantagonist in an encounter. He was risking his life on his belief thateither Hawk was disabled, or the cabin was empty. Stripping himself toshirt and trousers, turning his effects over to a cowboy, bare-headedand with only a six-shooter in hand, he shook out his long, brown hair,hooked up his belt and started to crawl up a little wash breaking intothe creek not far from the cabin.
There was no point from which he could be seen and his companions,secreted where they could watch, bent their eyes along the course ofthe wash up which their hidden leader was making his way.
Fortunately for the slippery undertaking, Van Horn, by a little diggingas he made his way carefully ahead, was able to crawl to within fiftyfeet of the door without exposing himself to fire. Reaching thenearest spot he could attain with safety, he called in stentorian tonesto the cabin:
"You're surrounded, Abe. You can't get away. If you want tosurrender, I'll guarantee your life. Come out unarmed and I'll meetyou unarmed. If not, it's what Gorman and Dutch Henry got, for you,Abe."
The cabin gave no answer back. But Van Horn would not be baffled.Knowing it would be suicide to venture closer he patiently sought hisanswer on the ground he now began to cover on his way back to thecreek. And on the ground he found it.
"He's slipped us," Van Horn called out when Doubleday arrived, "butI've got his trail."
"Two hundred and fifty dollars to the man that gets him!" shoutedDoubleday, huskily. Some of the boys gave a whoop and began to lookaround, but they did not scatter much.
Van Horn, losing no time, led Doubleday part way up the break alongwhich he had crawled. Telltale traces of blood at irregular intervals,sometimes imprinted as if by a hand on the flat face of rock thatbedded the wash; sometimes smeared on a starving bunch of grass, whereit clung desperately to a crevice in the scant soil--all so slight andso well concealed that only the mere chance of Van Horn's crawling upthe very break chosen by Hawk for his escape to the creek had revealedit to his pursuers. The tracker took the slender trail, followed thewounded rustler to the creek bottom and thence down the creek to itsjunction with the North Fork. There they lost the trail in a pool ofwater, nor could they pick it up again.
A mile below the fork of the Turkey stood Jim Laramie's cabin. Theraiders had already entered on his land; his cattle and some of hishorses were, in fact, grazing in and about the creek fork. Thefollowing of Hawk's trail had been a nerve-racking job. Hawk, hisenemies knew, might be waiting at any turn in it and that meant, in allprobability, death for someone. In consequence, the pioneering fellchiefly on Van Horn; even Stone showed little stomach for the job. Butthe trail was completely lost.
"There's a bunch of horses grazing at the fork," reported Van Horn, asDoubleday reached the front, "Laramie's, I guess--anyway, the trail'sgone."
A council was held. Doubleday, long-headed and crafty, listened to allthat was said. Van Horn finally asked for his opinion.
"I don't know no more than the rest of you; but a blind man can figurea few things out. He's hit, ain't he?" Barb put the question as onenot to be gainsaid and found none to say him nay. "He's looking forhelp, that's more'n likely, ain't it? He's a mile from Jim Laramie'scabin, not more; he's three miles from anybody else's--what?" heexclaimed, as Bill Bradley interrupted to suggest that it was less thantwo miles over to Ben Simeral's. "All right," shouted Barb, "Hawk'shere, ain't he? He's close to Laramie. Laramie's his friend. Wherewould he go--what?"
Chopping his ideas out as with an ax, Doubleday showed his companionswhat they should have thought of without being told. "The thing todo," he added, "is to go down to Laramie's cabin and see what we cansee--and find out what we can find out."
It was precisely what Bradley had feared would happen, but there was noescape from Doubleday's logic and no help for what others as well asBradley feared might follow.
Laramie Holds the Range Page 17
