by Zane Grey
XIV. A PRISONER
It chanced that as I lay on my side my eye caught a gleam of lightthrough a little ragged hole in the matting of pine branches. Part ofthe interior of the cabin, the doorway, and some space outside wereplainly visible. The thud of horses had given place to snorts, and thencame a flopping of saddles and packs on the ground. "Any water hyar?"asked a gruff voice I recognized as Bill's. "Spring right thar," replieda voice I knew to be Bud's.
"You onery old cayuse, stand still!"
From that I gathered Herky was taking the saddle off his horse.
"Here, Leslie, I'll untie you--if you'll promise not to bolt."
That voice was Buell's. I would have known it among a thousand. And Dickwas still a prisoner.
"Bolt! If you let me loose I'll beat your fat head off!" replied Dick."Ha! A lot you care about my sore wrists. You're weakening, Buell, andyou know it. You've got a yellow streak."
"Shet up!" said Herky, in a low, sharp tone. A silence followed. "Buell,look hyar in the trail. Tracks! Goin' in an' comin' out."
"How old are they?"
"I'll bet a hoss they ain't an hour old."
"Somebody's usin' the cabin, eh?"
The men then fell to whispering, and I could not understand what wassaid, but I fancied they were thinking only of me. My mind worked fast.Buell and his fellows had surely not run across Hiram Bent. Had the oldhunter deserted me? I flouted such a thought. It was next to a certaintythat he had seen the lumbermen, and for reasons best known to himselfhad not returned to the cabin. But he was out there somewhere among thepines, and I did not think any of those ruffians was safe.
Then I heard stealthy footsteps approaching. Soon I saw the Mexicanslipping cautiously to the door. He peeped within. Probably the interiorwas dark to him, as it had been to me. He was not a coward, for hestepped inside.
At that instant there was a clinking sound, a rush and a roar, and ablack mass appeared to hurl itself upon the Mexican. He went down witha piercing shriek. Then began a fearful commotion. Screams and roarsmingled with the noise of combat. I saw a whirling cloud of dust onthe cabin floor. The cub had jumped on the Mexican. What an unmercifulbeating he was giving that Greaser! I could have yelled out in my glee.I had to bite my tongue to keep from urging on my docile little petbear. Greaser surely thought he had fallen in with his evil spirit, forhe howled to the saints to save him.
Herky-Jerky was the only one of his companions brave enough to start tohelp him.
"The cabin's full of b'ars!" he yelled.
At his cry the bear leaped out of the cloud of dust, and shot acrossthe threshold like black lightning. In his onslaught upon Greaser he hadbroken his halter. Herky-Jerky stood directly in his path. I caught onlya glimpse, but it served to show that Herky was badly scared. The cubdove at Herky, under him, straight between his legs like a greased pig,and, spilling him all over the trail, sped on out of sight. Herky raisedhimself, and then he sat there, red as a lobster, and bawled curseswhile he made his huge revolver spurt flame on flame.
I could not see the other men, but their uproarious mirth could havebeen heard half a mile away. When it dawned upon Herky, he was sofurious that he spat at them like an angry cat and clicked his emptyrevolver.
Then Greaser lurched out of the door. I got a glimpse of him, and, for awonder, was actually sorry for him. He looked as if he had been througha threshing-machine.
"Haw! haw! Ho! ho!" roared the merry lumbermen.
Then they trooped into the cabin. Buell headed the line, and Herky,sullenly reloading his revolver, came last. At first they groped aroundin the dim light, stumbling over everything. Part of the time they werein the light space near the door, and the rest I could not see them. Iscarcely dared to breathe. I felt a creepy chill, and my eyesight grewdim.
"Who does this stuff belong to, anyhow?" Buell was saying. "An' what wasthet bear doin' in here?"
"He was roped up--hyar's the hitch," answered Bud.
"An' hyar's a rifle--Winchester--ain't been used much. Buell, it's thetkid's!"
I heard rapid footsteps and smothered exclamations.
"Take it from me, you're right!" ejaculated Buell. "We jest missed him.Herky, them tracks out there? Somebody's with this boy--who?"
"It's Jim Williams," put in Dick Leslie, cool-voiced and threatening.
The little stillness that followed his words was broken by Buell.
"Naw! 'Twasn't Williams. You can't bluff this bunch, Leslie. By your ownwords Williams is lookin' for us, an' if he's lookin' for anybody I knowhe's lookin' for 'em. See!"
"Buell, the kid's fell in with old Bent, the b'ar hunter," said Bill."Thet accounts fer the cub. Bent's allus got cubs, an' kittens, an'sich. An' I'll tell you, he ain't no better friend of ourn than JimWilliams."
"I'd about as soon tackle Williams as Bent," put in Bud.
Buell shook his fist. "What luck the kid has! But I'll get him, take itfrom me! Now, what's best to do?"
"Buell, the game's going against you," said Dick Leslie. "Thepenitentiary is where you'll finish. You'd better let me loose. OldBent will find Jim Williams, and then you fellows will be up against it.There's going to be somebody killed. The best thing for you to do is tolet me go and then cut out yourself."
Buell breathed as heavily as a porpoise, and his footsteps pounded hard.
"Leslie, I'm seein' this out--understand? When Bud rode down to the millan' told me the kid had got away I made up my mind to ketch him an' shethis mouth--one way or another. An' I'll do it. Take thet from me!"
"Bah!" sneered Dick. "You're sca'red into the middle of next week rightnow.... Besides, if you do ketch Ken it won't do you any good-now!"
"What?"
But Dick shut up like a clam, and not another word could be gotten fromhim. Buell fumed and stamped.
"Bud, you're the only one in this bunch of loggerheads thet has anysense. What d'you say?"
"Quiet down an' wait here," replied Bud. "Mebbe old Bent didn't hearthem shots of Herky's. He may come back. Let's wait awhile, an', if hedoesn't come, put Herky on the trail."
"Good! Greaser, go out an' hide the hosses--drive them up the canyon."
The Mexican shuffled out, and all the others settled down to quiet. Iheard some of them light their pipes. Bud leaned against the left ofthe door, Buell sat on the other side, and beyond them I saw as much ofHerky as his boots. I knew him by his bow-legs.
The stillness that set in began to be hard on me'. When the men weremoving about and talking I had been so interested that my predicamentdid not occupy my mind. But now, with those ruffians waiting silentlybelow, I was beset with a thousand fears. The very consciousness that Imust be quiet made it almost impossible. Then I became aware that my oneposition cramped my arm and side. A million prickling needles were atmy elbow. A band as of steel tightened about my breast. I grew hot andcold, and trembled. I knew the slightest move would be fatal, so I bentall my mind to lying quiet as a stone.
Greaser came limping back into the cabin, and found a seat without anyone speaking. It was so still that I heard the silken rustle of paper ashe rolled a cigarette. Moments that seemed long as years passed, with mymuscles clamped as in a vise. If only I had lain down upon my back!But there I was, half raised on my elbow, in a most awkward anduncomfortable position. I tried not to mind the tingling in my arm,but to think of Hiram, of Jim, of my mustang. But presently I could notthink of anything except the certainty that I would soon lose control ofmy muscles and fall over.
The tingling changed to a painful vibration, and perspiration stung myface. The strain became unbearable. All of a sudden something seemedto break within me, and my muscles began to ripple and shake. I had nopower to stop it. More than that, the feeling was so terrible that Iknew I would welcome discovery as a relief.
"Sh-s-s-h!" whispered some one below.
I turned my eyes down to the peep-hole. Bud had moved over squarely intothe light of the door. He was bending over something. Then he extendedhis hand, back uppermost, toward Buel
l. On the back of that broad brownhand were pieces of leaf and bits of pine-needles. The trembling ofmy body had shaken these from the brush on the rickety loft. More thanthat, in the yellow bar of sunlight which streamed in at the door therefloated particles of dust.
Bud silently looked upward. There was a gleam in his black eyes, and hismouth was agape. Buell's gaze followed Bud's, and his face grew curious,intent, then fixed in a cunning, bold smile of satisfaction. He rose tohis feet.
"Come down out o' thet!" he ordered, harshly. "Come down!"
The sound of his voice stilled my trembling. I did not move nor breathe.I saw Buell loom up hugely and Bud slowly rise. Herky-Jerky's bootssuddenly stood on end, and I knew then he had also risen. The silencewhich followed Buell's order was so dense that it oppressed me.
"Come down!" repeated Buell.
There was no hint of doubt in his deep voice, but a cold certainty and abrutal note. I had feared the man before, but that gave me new terror.
"Bud, climb the ladder," commanded Buell.
"I ain't stuck on thet job," rejoined Bud.
As his heavy boots thumped on the ladder they jarred the whole cabin. Myvery desperation filled me with the fierceness of a cornered animal.I caught sight of a short branch of the thickness of a man's arm,and, grasping it, I slowly raised myself. When Bud's black, round headappeared above the loft I hit it with all my might.
Bud bawled like a wounded animal, and fell to the ground with the noiseof a load of bricks. Through my peep-hole I saw him writhing, with bothhands pressed to his head. Then, lying flat on his back, he whipped outhis revolver. I saw the red spurt, the puff of smoke. Bang!
A bullet zipped through the brush, and tore a hole through the roof.
Bang! Bang!
I felt a hot, tearing pain in my arm.
"Stop, you black idiot!" yelled Buell. He kicked the revolver out ofBud's hand. "What d'you mean by thet?"
In the momentary silence that followed I listened intently, even whileI held tightly to my arm. From its feeling my arm seemed to be shot off,but it was only a flesh-wound. After the first instant of shock I wasnot scared. But blood flowed fast. Warm, oily, slippery, it ran downinside my shirt sleeve and dripped off my fingers.
"Bud," hoarsely spoke up Bill, breaking the stillness, "mebbe you killedhim!"
Buell coughed, as if choking.
"What's thet?" For once his deep voice was pitched low. "Listen."
Drip! drip! drip! It was like the sound of water dripping from a leakin a roof. It was directly under me, and, quick as thought, I knew thesound was made by my own dripping blood.
"Find thet, somebody," ordered Buell.
Drip! drip! drip!
One of the men stepped noisily.
"Hyar it is--thar," said Bill. "Look on my hand.... Blood! I knowed it.Bud got him, all right."
There was a sudden rustling such as might come from a quick, strainedmovement.
"Buell," cried Dick Leslie, in piercing tones, "Heaven help youmurdering thieves if that boy's killed! I'll see you strung up right inthis forest. Ken, speak! Speak!"
It seemed then, in my pain and bitterness, that I would rather let Buellthink me dead. Dick's voice went straight to my heart, but I made noanswer.
"Leslie, I didn't kill him, an' I didn't order it," said Buell, in avoice strangely shrunk and shaken. "I meant no harm to the lad.... Goup, Bud, an' get him."
Bud made no move, nor did Greaser when he was ordered. "Go up, somebody,an' see what's up there!" shouted Buell. "Strikes me you might goyourself," said Bill, coolly.
With a growl Buell mounted the ladder. When his great shock head hovein sight I was seized by a mad desire to give him a little of his ownmedicine. With both hands I lifted the piece of pine branch and broughtit down with every ounce of strength in me.
Like a pistol it cracked on Buell's head and snapped into bits. Thelumberman gave a smothered groan, then clattered down the ladder androlled on the floor. There he lay quiet.
"All-fired dead--thet kid--now, ain't he?" said Bud, sarcastically."How'd you like thet crack on the knob? You'll need a larger size hat,mebbe. Herky-Jerky, you go up an' see what's up there."
"I've a picture of myself goin'," replied Herky, without moving.
"Whar's the water? Get some water, Greaser," chimed in Bill.
From the way they worked over Buell, I concluded he had been prettybadly stunned. But he came to presently.
"What struck me?" he asked.
"Oh, nothin'," replied Bud, derisively. "The loft up thar's full of air,an' it blowed on you, thet's all."
Buell got up, and began walking around.
"Bill, go out an' fetch in some long poles," he said.
When Bill returned with a number of sharp, bayonet-like pikes I knewthe game was all up for me. Several of the men began to prod through thethin covering of dry brush. One of them reached me, and struck so hardthat I lurched violently.
That was too much for the rickety loft floor. It was only a bit of brushlaid on a netting of slender poles. It creaked, rasped, and went downwith a crash. I alighted upon somebody, and knocked him to the floor.Whoever it was, seized me with iron hands. I was buried, almostsmothered, in the dusty mass. My captor began to curse cheerfully, and Iknew then that Herky-Jerky had made me a prisoner.
