The Happy Family
Page 6
How they ever got him to the top of that heartbreaking slope, not one of them ever knew. Twice he fainted outright. And Happy Jack, carefully bearing his hat full of water for just that emergency, slipped and spilled the whole of it just when they needed it most. At the last, it was as if they carried a dead man between them-Jack Bates and Cal Emmett it was who bore him up the last steep climb-and Pink and Weary, coming behind with all the horses, glanced fearfully into each other's eyes and dared not question.
At the top they laid him down in the grass and swore at Happy Jack, because they must do something, and because they dared not face what might be before them. They avoided looking at one another while they stood helplessly beside the still figure of the man they had maligned. If he died, they would always have that bitter spot in their memory-and even with the fear of his dying they stood remorseful.
Of a sudden Andy opened his eyes and looked at them with the light of recognition, and they bent eagerly toward him. "If-yuh could-on-my horse-I-I-could ride-maybe." Much pain it cost him, they knew by the look on his face. But he was game to the last-just as they knew he would be.
"Yuh couldn't ride Twister, yuh know yuh couldn't," Pink objected gently. "But-if yuh could ride Jack's horse-he's dead gentle, and we'd help hold yuh on. Do you think yuh could?"
Andy moved his head uneasily. "I-I've got to," he retorted weakly, and even essayed a smile to reassure them. "I-ain't all-in yet," he added with an evident effort, and the Happy Family gulped sympathetically, and wondered secretly if they would have such nerve under like conditions.
"It's going to be one hell of a trip for yuh," Weary murmured commiseratingly, when they were lifting him into the saddle. Of a truth, it did seem absolutely foolhardy to attempt it, but there was nothing else to do, unless they left him there. For no wagon could possibly be driven within miles of the place.
Andy leaned limply over the saddle-horn, his face working with the agony he suffered. Somehow they had got him upon the horse of Jack Bates, but they had felt like torturers while they did it, and the perspiration on their faces was not all caused by heat.
"My God, I'd rather be hung than go through this again," muttered Cal, white under the tan. "I-"
"I'll tackle-it now," gasped Andy, with a pitiful attempt to sit straight in the saddle. "Get on-boys-"
Reluctantly they started to obey, when the horse of Jack Bates gave a sudden leap ahead. Many hands reached out to grasp him by the bridle, but they were a shade too late, and he started to run, with Andy swaying in the saddle. While they gazed horrified, he straightened convulsively, turned his face toward them and raised a hand; caught his hat by the brim and swung it high above his head.
"Much obliged, boys," he yelled derisively. "I sure do appreciate being packed up that hill; it was too blamed hot to walk. Say! if you'd gone around that bend, you'd uh found a good trail down. Yuh struck about the worst place there is. So-long-I ain't all in yet!" He galloped away, while the Happy Family stared after him with bulging eyes.
"The son-of-a-gun!" gasped Weary weakly, and started for his horse.
"Darn yuh, you'llbe all in when we get hold of yuh!" screamed Jack Bates, and gave chase.
It was when they were tearing headlong after him down the coulee's rim and into a shallow gully which seamed unexpectedly the level, that they saw his horse swerve suddenly and go bounding along the edge of the slope with Andy "sawing" energetically upon the bit.
"What trick's he up to now?" cried Cal Emmett resentfully, feeling that, in the light of what had gone before, Andy could not possibly make a single motion in good faith.
Andy brought his horse under control and turned back to meet them, and the Happy Family watched him guardedly until they reached the gulley and their own horses took fright at a dark, shambling object that scuttled away down toward the coulee-head. Andy was almost upon them before they could give him any attention.
"Did you see it?" he called excitedly. "It was a bear, and he was digging at something under that shelving rock. Come on and let's take a look."
"Aw, gwan!" Happy Jack adjured crossly. He was thinking of all the water he had carried painstakingly in his hat, for the relief of this conscienceless young reprobate, and he was patently suspicious of some new trick.
"Well, by gracious!" Andy rode quite close-dangerously close, considering the mood they were in-and eyed them queerly. "I sure must have a horrible rep, when yuh won't believe your own eyes just because I happen to remark that a bear is a bear. I'll call it a pinto hog, if it'll make yuh feel any better. And I'll say it wasn't doing any digging; only, I'm going down there and take a look. There's an odor-"
There was, and they could not deny it, even though Andy did make the assertion. And though they had threatened much that was exceedingly unpleasant, and what they would surely do to Andy if they ever got him within reach, they followed him quite peaceably.
They saw him get off his horse and stand looking down at something-and there was that in his attitude which made them jab spurs against their horses' flanks. A moment later they, too, were looking down at something, and they were not saying a word.
"It's Dan, all right," said Andy at last, and his tone was hushed. "I hunted the coulee over-every foot of it-and looked up some of the little draws, and went along the river; but I couldn't find any trace of him. I never thought about coming up here.
"Look there. His head was smashed in with a rock or something-ugh! Here, let me away, boys. This thing-" He walked uncertainly away and sat down upon a rock with his face in his hands, and what they could see of his face was as white as the tan would permit. Somehow, not a man of them doubted him then. And not a man of them but felt much the same. They backed away and stood close to where Andy was sitting.
"You wouldn't believe me when I told yuh," he reproached, when the sickness had passed and he could lift his head and look at them. "You thought I was lying, and yuh made yourselves pretty blamed obnoxious to me-but I got even forthat ." There was much satisfaction in his tone, and the Happy Family squirmed. "Yuh see, I was telling the truth, all right-and now I'm going to get even some more. I'm going to take-er-Pink along for a witness, and notify the outfit that yuh won't be back for a day or two, and send word to the sheriff. And you jaspers can have the pleasure uh standing guard over-that." He shivered a little and turned his glance quickly away. "And I hope," he added maliciously, as he mounted his own horse, "you'll make Jack Bates stand an all-night guard by his high lonesome. He's sure got it coming to him!"
With Pink following close at his heels he rode away up the ridge.
"Say, there's grub enough on old Buck to do yuh to-night," he called down to them, "in case Chip don't send yuh any till to-morrow." He waved a subdued farewell and turned his face again up the ridge, and before they had quite decided what to do about it, he was gone.
* * * * *
BY BERTRAND W. SINCLAIR
* * * * *
"This is a stirring story of the Canadian Northwest and the Northwest Mounted Police. The unwritten history of this wonderful and intrepid body of men must be a long way from the dry-as-dust histories on the shelves. It is an open question if people do not get more real history in a clear, clean-cut tale of this kind, with its strong character portrayal and its vivid local coloring, than could be obtained in any other way."
-St. Louis Times.
"Action enough to thrill the dullest sort of reader."
-Albany Times-Union.
"The delineation of characters in this tale of the Northwest Mounted Police is splendidly portrayed. They are flesh-and-blood personalities. There is something of mystery, bits of sharp action, color, description, life. A well-told story."
-Pittsburg Dispatch.
"The story is sensational, but is full of animation. Scenes shift rapidly and the actors play the game of life fearlessly and like men. The love theme runs through it all and pleasantly."
-Chicago Tribune.
"It is strong, virile, captivating and well told."
-Denver Republican.
"A rattling good story. There is sentiment of the kind that fits with the open sky and life in the saddle, and the whole story moves with a swing and reality that are refreshing in the extreme."-New York Times.
"Wild, indeed, is the West pictured by Mr. Sinclair."
-Boston Transcript.
"The tale, rapid in action and clearly told, is one of the best written on the Canadian West."-Louisville Courier-Journal.
12mo, Cloth bound, Illustrated, $1.50.
* * * * *
G.W. DILLINGHAM CO., PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK
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