It was dark enough for their purpose in half an hour, the only gleamof remaining color being the red glow of the negro's pipe, even theopenings in the iron grating being blotted from sight. Keith, staringin that direction, failed to perceive any distant glimmer of star, anddecided the night must be cloudy, and that time for action had come.Guided by Neb's pipe bowl, he touched the boy on the shoulder.
"Knock out your ashes, and shuffle about lively with your feet, while Ipry up the board."
In spite of his slenderness, Keith possessed unusual strength, yet noexertion on his part served to start the loosened plank sufficiently fortheir purpose. Ripping a strip from the bench he managed to pry thehole somewhat larger, arranging the bench itself so as to afford thenecessary leverage, but even then his entire weight failed to eitherstart the spikes, or crack the plank. Some altercation began in theother room, the sound of angry voices and shuffling feet being plainlyaudible. It was clear to Keith that they must take the chance of anoise, and no better time than this could be chosen.
"Here, Neb, take hold with me, and bear down--put your whole weight onit, boy."
The two flung themselves upon the end of the bench leaping up and downso as to add weight to power. Something had to give, either the stoutwood of their improvised lever or else the holding of the plank. For aninstant it seemed likely to be the former; then, with a shrill screech,the long spikes yielded and the board suddenly gave. With shouldersinserted beneath, the two men heaved it still higher, ramming the benchbelow so as to leave the opening clear. This was now sufficiently amplefor the passage of a man's body, and Keith, lowering himself, discoveredthe earth to be fully four feet below. The negro instantly joined him,and they began creeping about in the darkness, seeking some way out. Arudely laid foundation of limestone alone obstructed their path to theopen air. This had been laid in mortar, but of inferior quality, so thatlittle difficulty was experienced in detaching sufficient to obtainhand hold. Working silently, not knowing what watchers might be alreadystationed without, they succeeded in loosening enough of the rock toallow them to crawl through, lying breathless in the open. Accustomed asthey were to the darkness, they could yet see little. They were upon theopposite side from the town, with no gleam of lights visible, prairieand sky blending together into spectral dimness, with no sound audiblebut the continued quarrel in the front room of the jail. Keith creptalong to the end of the building from where he could perceive the lightsof the town twinkling dimly through the intense blackness. Evidently theregular evening saturnalia had not yet begun, although there was alreadysemblance of life about the numerous saloons, and an occasional shoutpunctuated the stillness. A dog howled in the distance, and the poundingof swift hoofs along the trail told of fresh arrivals. An hour later andthe single street of Carson City would be alive with humanity, eager forany excitement, ready for any wild orgy, if only once turned loose. Thatit would be turned loose, and also directed, the man lying on his facein the grass felt fully assured. He smiled grimly, wishing he mightbehold "Black Bart's" face when he should discover the flight of hisintended victims. But there was no time to lose; every moment gained,added to their chance of safety.
"Are those horses tied there by the blacksmith's shop?" he asked,pointing.
The negro stared in the direction indicated, confused by the shadowsthrown by the dim lights.
"I reck'n dey am, Massa Jack; I done make out fo'."
"Then two of them must belong to us; come on, boy."
He ran forward, crouching behind every chance cover, and keeping wellback behind the line of shacks. A slight depression in the prairiehelped conceal their movements, and neither spoke until they werecrouching together beside the wall of the shop. Then Neb, teethchattering, managed to blurt forth:
"Fo' de Lawd's sake, yer don't actually mean ter steal dem hosses?"
Keith glanced about at the other's dim, black shadow.
"Sure not; just borrow 'em."
"But dat's a hangin' job in dis yere country, Massa Jack."
"Sure it is if they catch us. But we'd be strung up anyway, and we can'tbe hung twice. Besides there is a chance for us with the ponies, andnone at all without. An hour's start in the saddle, Neb, and this bunchback here will never even find our trail; I pledge you that. Come, boy,stay close with me."
It was the quiet, confident voice of assured command, of one satisfiedwith his plans, and the obedient negro, breathing hard, never dreamedof opposition; all instincts of slavery held him to the dominion of thiswhite master. Keith leaned forward, staring at the string of desertedponies tied to the rail. Success depended on his choice, and he couldjudge very little in that darkness. Men were straggling in along thestreet to their right, on foot and horseback, and the saloon on thecorner was being well patronized. A glow of light streamed forth fromits windows, and there was the sound of many voices. But this narrowalley was deserted, and black. The fugitive stepped boldly forward,afraid that otherwise he might startle the ponies and thus create analarm. Guided by a horseman's instinct he swiftly ran his hands over theanimals, and made quick selection.
"Here, Neb, take this fellow; lead him quietly down the bank," and hethrust the loosened rein into the black's hand.
An instant later he had chosen his own mount, and was silently movingin the same direction, although the night there was so black that theobedient negro had already entirely vanished. The slope of the land notonly helped cover their movements, but also rendered it easy for them tofind one another. Fully a hundred yards westward they met, where agully led directly down toward the river. There was no longer need forremaining on foot, as they were a sufficient distance away from thelittle town to feel no fear of being discovered, unless by some drunkenstraggler. At Keith's command the negro climbed into his saddle. Bothponies were restive, but not vicious, and after a plunge or two, to testtheir new masters, came easily under control. Keith led the way, movingstraight down the gully, which gradually deepened, burying them inits black heart, until it finally debouched onto the river sands. Theriotous noises of the drunken town died slowly away behind, the nightsilent and dark. The two riders could scarcely distinguish one anotheras they drew rein at the edge of the water. To the southward theregleamed a cluster of lights, marking the position of the camp ofregulars. Keith drove his horse deeper into the stream, and headednorthward, the negro following like a shadow.
There was a ford directly opposite the cantonment, and another, moredangerous, and known to only a few, three miles farther up stream.Keeping well within the water's edge, so as to thus completely obscuretheir trail, yet not daring to venture deep for fear of strikingquicksand, the plainsman sent his pony struggling forward, until the dimoutline of the bank at his right rendered him confident that they hadattained the proper point for crossing. He had been that way only oncebefore, and realized the danger of attempting passage in such darkness,but urgent need drove him forward.
"Follow me just as close as you can, boy," he said sternly, "and keepboth your feet out of the stirrups. If your horse goes down hang to istail, and let him swim out."
There was little enough to guide by, merely a single faint star peeringout from a rift of the clouds, but Keith's remembrance was that the fordled straight out to the centre of the stream, and then veered slightlytoward the right. He knew the sand ridge was only used by horsemen, notbeing wide enough for the safe passage of wagons, but the depth of thewater on either side was entirely problematical. He was taking a bigchance, yet dare not wait for daylight. Summoning all his nerve andalertness, he urged his horse slowly forward, the intelligent animalseemingly comprehending the situation, and feeling carefully forfooting. The actions of the animal gave the rider greater confidence,and he loosened his grip on the rein, leaving the pony's instinctto control. The latter fairly crept forward, testing the sand beforeresting any weight upon the hoof, the negro's mount following closely.The water was unusually high, and as they advanced it bore down againstthem in considerable volume; then, as they veered to the right, theywere compel
led to push directly against its weight in struggling towardshore. The men could see nothing but this solid sheet of water rushingdown toward them from out the black void, and then vanishing below. OnceKeith's horse half fell, plunging nose under, yet gaining foothold againbefore the rider had deserted his saddle. A dim blackness ahead alreadyrevealed the nearness of the southern bank, when Neb's pony went downsuddenly, swept fairly off its legs by some fierce eddy in the stream.Keith heard the negro's guttural cry, and caught a glimpse of him as thetwo were sent whirling down. The coiled rope of the lariat, grasped inhis right hand, was hurled forth like a shot, but came back empty. Notanother sound reached him; his own horse went steadily on, feeling hisway, until he was nose against the bank, with water merely ripplingabout his ankles. Keith driving feet again into the stirrups headed himdown stream, wading close in toward the shore, leaning forward over thepommel striving to see through the gloom.
He had no doubt about Neb's pony making land, unless struck by somedriftwood, or borne to the centre of the stream by the shifting force ofthe current. But if Neb had failed to retain his grip he might havebeen sucked under by the surge of waters. A hundred yards below he foundthem, dripping and weak from the struggle, yet otherwise unhurt. Therewere no words spoken, but black and white hands clasped silently, andthen Neb crept back into the saddle, shivering in his wet clothes as thecool night wind swept against him. Keeping close in toward shore, yetfar enough out so that the water would hide their trail, the fugitivestoiled steadily up stream, guided only by the black outline of the lowbank upon their left.
Chapter VII. In the Sand Desert
Keith of the Border: A Tale of the Plains Page 6
