Nan spoke quickly, and he could feel the excitement in her. “Oh, Jagger, something awful happened last night! All the kids are talking about it. That—that other banshee, it really went wild and killed cows all around the country here! I don’t know how many were clawed to death, but they say Mr. Purdom lost nearly a dozen. And, Jagger—”
Wait! I must somehow tell Danta Rush. He is just leaving.
“Oh, golly gee, tell him Mr. Purdom blames him for it all! Tell him Mr. Purdom actually thinks he’s hiding the banshee!”
Jagger’s wound was far from healed, but it had become so much better that he didn’t even feel it as he leaped to his feet and lunged to the window. The front door had been locked for his protection against chance visitors, and though he could have unlatched the kitchen door and raced around the cottage, he knew there wasn’t time for it. Already he could hear the truck moving out into the road and gathering speed.
There was only one thing to do. He began to bark.
The lusty sound rattled the windows and set up a clamor of alarm outside in the chicken yard. Cleo, daintily sipping a second dish of milk beside the fire, abruptly bolted into the bedroom. Down on the road the truck suddenly halted, then sped backward to the cottage.
Danta Rush leaped out and hurriedly unlocked the front door. “Something wrong, Jagger? Did Nan call you?”
At his nod, the Indian said, “Where is she? At school?” Jagger’s second nod brought: “Any change in plans?” Then, after a quick shake of his head: “But something’s happened?”
Jagger nodded again and tried to project a mental image of Waddley Purdom, followed by visions of dead animals in a field.
The bronze man almost got it. “Something about—Wad Purdom?”
At that moment Jagger became aware of the swift approach of cars. He nodded quickly, then raised a forepaw and pointed down the road.
The first car that stopped before the cottage had a star painted on the side. Out of it stepped a tanned young man with a badge pinned to the front of his khaki jacket. Four men with rifles piled from the second car. Leading them, moving with deliberate slowness, came the pear-shaped figure of Waddley Purdom. Striding watchfully behind him, gun held ready, was Big Joe Tanner.
Danta Rush glanced at the tanned young man, then frowned at the men with guns. “What’s this all about, Wad?” he asked.
“You know what it’s about!” the rancher growled. “Arrest him, Bill!”
“Arrest me for what?” the bronze man demanded.
The young man with the badge said hesitantly, “I—I’m sorry, Mr. Rush, but something killed a lot of Mr. Purdom’s cows last night, and he believes you’re responsible. So I’ll have to take you in. I—I’ve also got a search warrant so we can search your place. Folks have got the idea that you’re hiding some sort of dangerous animal here, and we’ve been ordered to find it and kill it.”
Waddley Purdom said, “Fan out men. Surround the house.”
Jagger, standing hidden just within the doorway, was rudely jolted by what he read in the men’s minds. He had never heard of jail until coming here, or of people being forcibly locked away in a barred cell. While he was trying to adjust to the incredible thought of what was in store for Danta Rush, he heard the bronze man whisper urgently, “Run, Jagger—the back door! Turn the knob to the right, then pull the door toward you. Hurry!”
Suddenly aware of his own danger, Jagger whirled and sped into the kitchen. Opening the rear door gave him no trouble, for it was merely a matter of catching the knob between his teeth and turning his head. The trouble came after he had eased out onto the small back porch and was leaping for the protection of a shed a few yards behind the house. There was sudden movement over on his left, and he glimpsed a gaunt figure with a rifle swinging up from the road. It was Big Joe Tanner.
Jagger heard Big Joe’s yell, followed an instant later by the sharp crack of the rifle. This time the shot missed, and he gained the far corner of the shed and was able to plunge unharmed into the plum thickets at the edge of the garden. As he raced on, running on three legs to save his injured one, he could hear Big Joe Tanner shouting to the others.
“It’s that devilish banshee—the same one I seen the other day! All white he is, an’ big as a daggone mule!”
In the dappled shade of the woods beyond the chicken yard, Jagger paused briefly to decide on a direction, then turned to the left and began angling down the long slope away from the cottage. Presently, when he could make out the lower part of the road ahead, he crouched in the shadow of a tree to watch and wait while he tried to plan what to do.
He was sick at heart over what had happened, and it was hard to pull his thoughts together and think. But think he must, for with Danta Rush a prisoner, there was no one to protect Nan and Peter but himself.
With things the way they were, how was he going to manage it?
EIGHT He Meets a Strange Creature
Jagger’s leg was aching badly from the sudden strains he had put on it, but no harm seemed to have been done. Peter’s bandage still held, and there was no sign of bleeding. Of far more concern was the overwhelming wave of weakness that had come over him when he stopped behind the tree. At the moment he doubted if he had the strength left to rise. But maybe the weakness would pass after he’d rested a while …
All at once, in the back of his mind, a door seemed to open that had somehow been closed when danger threatened. He was aware of Nan’s voice again.
“Jagger?” she called plaintively. “Jagger? Can you hear me? Oh, please answer!”
I hear you now, he replied quickly, happy to be in contact with her again.
“Oh, thank goodness! I’ve been so worried. I’ve been trying for half an hour to get you, but not a peep out of you. Something’s gone wrong—I just feel it. What’s happened?”
He told her exactly what had happened, and how he had barely managed to get away in time.
Nan was furious. “Oh, that dirty, contemptible old Waddley Purdom!” she burst out. “I wish he’d turn into a bug so I could step on him! But—but what about Mr. Rush? Did that deputy take him off to jail?”
He’s taking him now, Jagger reported, as he saw the car with the star on it going by on the road. Are you still in school?
“Sort of. I mean, I’m supposed to be in class, but I sneaked out so I could talk to you without being noticed. Oh, golly gee, I don’t know what to do now. If Mr. Rush is in jail, he won’t be able to meet us and take us to a bus station. Maybe we’ll have to change our plans.” Nan paused a moment, then said, “I’ll talk it over with Peter when I meet him at noon to go to the bank. Jagger, where are you now?”
I’m on that slope above the road, about halfway between Danta Rush’s place and yours. Can anything be done to get him out of jail?
“Stars alive, there must be something. But Peter will know. If I could just talk to him now—but he’s in a different grade, and has recess at a different time. Maybe I can sneak out again and catch him. Jagger, how—how does your leg feel after walking so far?”
Adequate, he told her, quoting a favorite reply of Elder Norfo. But don’t worry about me. You and Peter have got to think of some way to get Danta Rush released. As soon as possible.
“I—I’ll do my best.”
Jagger waited. He saw the other car go by, moving fast, and realized there was no one in it but the driver. Suddenly it occurred to him that Waddley Purdom must be sending for more men. A great many men, probably, for wouldn’t the killing of all those animals last night get the whole country aroused and start a bigger hunt than ever?
There wasn’t any doubt of it. Furthermore, the terrible creature believed to be the killer—the great white banshee—had actually been seen and his trail located. Any dog with half a nose would be able to track it to the end.
The sudden comprehension of his peril drove Jagger to his feet. Somehow, in spite of his weakness, he must contrive to leave the area without leaving a trail that could be followed. But how?
Deciding that it was worth the risk, Jagger limped down to the first wheel rut, and actually went a few yards on it before backtracking. He was some distance up the slope again, well past the tree where he had first stopped, when he heard cars approaching. They were coming from town.
He sank down in dismay and watched while they roared past below. There were five cars, and though he could not see them clearly, he could tell they were jammed with armed men. The fifth car pulled a small trailer filled with dogs.
How had the men managed to get here so quickly? The lone driver he’d seen could hardly have had time to reach the main road. Then he remembered that during the first hunt some of the men had carried small radios. Waddley Purdom must have used one this morning. And the lone driver? Probably he had been sent to get other men who had not heard the rancher’s call.
Jagger drew back his lips and gave a long low growl of baffled anger. Doubling on his trail was out of the question now. In a very short time the dogs would be after him, followed by a growing army of hunters. He was too weak to outrun the dogs, or even fight them. Yet somehow he had to stay alive because of Nan and Peter.
For a moment it hardly seemed possible. Too many were against him, and they could corner him easily. But suddenly a deeper growl of defiance rumbled from his throat, and he started grimly down to the road.
If he couldn’t double on his trail, he must use another trick to fool the dogs. It was too bad Danta Rush hadn’t thought earlier to rub more turpentine on him. That probably would have held back pursuit for the rest of the morning. But wouldn’t water serve him just as well? The running water of a stream?
The creek, whose rushing clatter he had been aware of ever since his arrival here, was a muted sound far to the east. He crossed the road and plunged downward on the other side, moving as swiftly as three uncertain legs would carry him. His feet rustled through the fallen leaves as he curved lower on the long gradual slope, and the music of the creek became louder. Once a startled deer sprang away from his path, but he sent it a quieting thought and it stopped and eyed him curiously as he forced himself on. He did not dare stop so long as he could continue to move, for at any moment he expected to hear the distant baying of the new dog pack on his trail.
When he did stop, it was in sudden surprise at the unexpected sight of open land ahead and a wire fence barring the way. On his left, at the same moment, he glimpsed the creek. It tumbled out of the dimness of the woods, flowed under the fence, and wound away along the edge of a broad pasture dotted with strange animals.
Jagger stared at the creatures. They were horses, the first he’d ever seen. As his fascinated gaze roved over the pasture, he made out the white house in the distance, with the white corrals and barns, and it came to him all at once where he was. This had to be Thornberry Farm. He hadn’t even dreamed of coming here, but now it occurred to him that the farm might have more than one advantage as a hiding place.
The faint baying of dogs far back on the ridge reminded him of his danger. He studied the fence quickly, and realized it was much too high to be leaped in his present condition. Nor could he go through it or under it, for it was made of heavy strands of barbed wire, fastened close together. But maybe, if the creek was deep enough, he could swim under the thing.
He limped hastily to the creek’s edge, and paused again. The water was swift here, and it seemed fairly deep where the fence crossed it. He started down the high bank, but a sudden foxy impulse made him turn and head upstream to a shallow stretch. Here he waded entirely across, then hastened upstream again, following the bank. But after some distance he retraced his steps and waded back to the middle of the creek, then started downstream. That, he hoped, would send the dog pack yelping in the opposite direction from the one he intended to take.
Jagger had a very bad moment at the fence. The water deepened as he approached it, and he was suddenly swimming instead of wading. But he was unable to submerge completely, and the bottom wire caught in the shaggy hair of his shoulders. He was snagged like a big fish—and like a fish he splashed and fought and lunged in vain to free himself.
It was only when he stopped struggling and lay exhausted in the cold water that he suddenly floated away. Had the creek been shallow he would have been unable to stand, but it deepened as the swift current carried him downstream, and by the time a little of his strength returned he had been swept well into the lower part of the pasture. A rocky islet finally halted him.
Jagger crawled feebly from the water. For a while he lay still, grateful for the morning sun that warmed his chilled body. Finally he turned his head and glanced back, wondering how far he had come. A bend in the stream cut off his view, and even the ridge was hidden by the high bank close behind him.
His momentary feeling of security was rudely shattered by the sudden pounding of heavy feet on the bank in front of him.
Jagger’s mouth dropped open and he stared in awe at the huge dappled beast with flaring nostrils and flying white mane and tail that was glaring down at him. The creature was no ordinary horse. It was a mighty stallion with a great arching neck and powerful shoulders, and it was swinging imperiously about, stamping an angry hoof into the turf as it demanded an answer to questions.
What are you? the stallion wanted to know. Why are you trespassing on my domain?
I am a dog from other regions, he managed to explain. My name is Jagger, and I came here to hide. I am being hunted by mistake.
The stallion came closer, and peered curiously down at him. You are not evil, he admitted in some surprise. I thought at first you were a flesh eater, like the Black One. I was ready to kill you. But you are not a flesh eater. I can tell by your scent.
You know of the Black One?
I know of him! And I will kill him if he crosses the fence and comes here. I must protect my herd.
A sudden thought entered Jagger’s mind. Are you called Palamedes?
I am Palamedes, the stallion answered, raising his head proudly. I am the leader here. How did you know my name?
The children who live here mentioned you when they came to help me. They spoke as if you were very special to them.
They are very special to me, Palamedes replied. They and their father, who was master here, are the only humans who have ever ridden on my back. Often in the past I would be allowed to take Nan and Peter all around the farm. Sometimes their little dog, Dandy, would ride with them. Those were joyful days. The stallion paused, then added, But things are not like they were. The master has gone, and evil has come here.
I know, Jagger said. Nan has told me all about it.
A change showed in Palamedes. He picked his way down the bank, splashed over to the islet, then touched noses with Jagger in the ancient gesture of friendship.
If the hunters are after you, the stallion reasoned, they must mistake you for the Black One.
Yes. The Black One killed many times last night. The hunters believe I did it, and that Danta Rush made me do it. They have taken him to jail. I was forced to run.
Palamedes stamped his foot and snorted in disgust. Thank your stars that you were not born a human. The tribe contains so many fools.
That has been my impression since I came here, Jagger admitted. But Danta Rush and the children are different. I can even exchange thoughts with Nan, just as we are exchanging them now. They are in great danger—or did you know?
I did not know, though I have been very uneasy about them. Tell me what you have learned, so that I may be of help.
As Jagger explained about himself and
told what had been happening, the great stallion’s nostrils flared and he stamped his feet in anger. That woman! he stormed. I should have trampled her into the earth when she first came here. She is more twisted and evil than the Black One. Between the two—The stallion suddenly paused, and Jagger saw him raise his head and stare over the top of the bank in the direction of the house across the pasture.
What is it? he asked, as faintly to his ears came the sound of a car being started.
The woman, Palamedes reported. She and her man are leaving early to go to town. Something about it worries me.
But Nan said this was the day they always go to town to do their errands. She and Peter are depending on it.
Yes, replied the stallion. But never have that woman and her man left so early. If they leave early, they may return early—before Nan and Peter can get their things and slip away.
Now Jagger was suddenly worried. It was possible that Tess Gomez had more business than usual to take care of today—though it was just as possible she wanted to return early to carry out some plan against the children. At any rate, Nan must be warned.
He started to call to her, but at that moment he heard her voice in his ear.
“Jagger! What’s going on? I—I’ve been trying like everything to get through to you.”
I had a little trouble, he explained. But I’m all right now. Are you still at school?
“No. I’m with Peter in the back hall where Pop’s lawyer has his office. When I told Peter about Mr. Rush, he said we’d better come here right away, ’cause only a lawyer could get Mr. Rush out of jail. But we’re sort of stumped, ’cause Mr. Henderson has gone to the city and won’t be back till Monday. And the only other lawyer in town is Mr. Purdom’s friend, and he hasn’t any use for Indians. What’s more, we can’t even get to see Mr. Rush, ’cause they put him in the county jail, and that’s ’way over in Fort Henry, thirty miles from here. Oh, Jagger, everything’s in such a mess!”
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