CHAPTER XXVII--BESIEGED
Hemmingway tentatively suggested that a ride through the gorge towardthe Kelso Basin might simplify matters for himself and Taylor; it might,he said, even seem to make the defending of their position unnecessary.But his suggestions met with no enthusiasm from Taylor, who loungedamong the rocks of his place of concealment calmly smoking.
Taylor gave some reasons for his disinclination to adopt Hemmingway'ssuggestions.
"Norton will be back in an hour, with Bothwell and the outfit." And nowhe grinned as he looked at Bud. "Miss Harlan told me to be careful aboutmy scratches. I take it she don't want no more sieges with a sick man.And I'm taking her advice. If I'd go to riding my horse like blazes,maybe I _would_ get sick again. And she wouldn't take care of meanymore. And I'd hate like blazes to run from Keats and his bunch ofplug-uglies!"
So Hemmingway said no more on that subject.
They smoked and talked and watched the trail for signs of Keats and hismen; while the sun, which had been behind the towering hills surroundingthe gorge, traveled slowly above them, finally blazing down from a pointdirectly overhead.
It became hot in the gorge; the air was stifling and the heatuncomfortable. Taylor did not seem to mind it, but Bud, with a vigorousappetite, and longings that ran to flapjacks and sirup, grew impatient.
"If a man could eat now," he remarked once, while the sun was directlyoverhead, "why, it wouldn't be so bad!"
And then, after the sun's blazing rays had begun to diminish inintensity somewhat, Bud looked upward and saw that the shimmering orbhad passed beyond the crest of a towering hill. He looked sharply atTaylor, who was intently watching the back trail, and said gravely:
"Norton ought to have been back with Bothwell and the bunch, now."
"He's an hour overdue," said Taylor, without looking at Bud.
"I reckon somethin's happened," growled Bud. "Somethin' always happenswhen a guy's holed up, like this. It wouldn't be so bad if a man couldeat a little somethin'--to sort of keep him from thinkin' of it all thetime. Or, mebbe, if there was a little excitement--or somethin'. A mancould----"
"There'll be plenty of excitement before long," interrupted Taylor."Keats and his gang didn't go very far. I just saw one of them sneakingalong that rock-knob, down the gorge a piece. They're going to stalk us.If you're thinking of riding to Kelso--why--" He grinned at Bud'sresentful scowl.
Lying flat on his stomach, he watched the rock-knob he had mentioned.
"Slick as an Indian," he remarked once, while Bud, having ceased hisdiscontented mutterings, kept his gaze on the rock also.
And then suddenly the eery silence of the gorge was broken by the sharpcrack of Taylor's rifle, and, simultaneously, by a shriek of pain.Report and shriek reverberated with weird, echoing cadences between thehills, growing less distinct always and finally the eery silence reignedagain.
"They'll know they can't get careless, now," grinned Taylor, working theejector of his rifle.
Bud did not reply; and for another hour both men intently scanned thehills within range of their vision, straining their eyes to detect signsof movement that would warn them of the whereabouts of Keats and hismen.
Anxiously Bud watched the rays of the sun creeping up a precipitous rockwall at a little distance. Slowly the streak of light narrowed, growingalways less brilliant, and finally, when it vanished, Bud spoke:
"It's comin' on night, Squint. Somethin's sure happened to Norton." Hewriggled impatiently, adding: "If we're here when night comes we'll havea picnic keepin' them guys off of us."
Taylor said nothing until the gorge began to darken with the shadows oftwilight. Then he looked at Bud, his face grim.
"My stubbornness," he said shortly. "I should have taken your adviceabout going to Kelso Basin--when we had a chance. But I felt certainthat Norton would have the outfit here before this. Our chance is gone,now. There are some of Keats's men in the hills, around us. I just sawone jump behind that rim rock on the shoulder of that big hill--there."He indicated the spot. Then he again spoke to Bud.
"There's a chance yet--for you. You take Spotted Tail and make a run forthe basin. I'll cover you."
"What about you?" grumbled Bud.
Taylor grinned, and Bud laughed. "You was only funnin' me, I reckon," hesaid, earnestly. "You knowed I wouldn't slope an' leave you to fight itout alone--now didn't you?"
"But if a man was hungry," said Taylor, "and he knew there was grub withthe outfit----"
"I ain't hungry no more," declared Bud; "I've quit thinkin' of flapjacksfor more than----"
He stiffened, and the first shadows of the night were split by a long,narrow flame-streak as his rifle crashed. And a man who had beenslipping into the shelter of a depression on the side of a hill ahundred yards distant, tumbled grotesquely out and down, and wentsliding to the bottom of the gorge.
As though the report of Bud's rifle were a signal, a dozen vivid jets offire flamed from various points in the surrounding hills, and thesilence was rent by the vicious cracking of rifles and the drone andthud of bullets as they sped over the heads of the two men at the bottomof the gorge and flattened themselves against the rocks of theirshelter.
That sound, too, died away. And in the heavy, portentous stillness whichsucceeded it, there came to the ears of the two besieged men the soundsof distant shouting, faint and far.
"It's the outfit!" said Taylor.
And Bud, rolling over and over in an excess of joy over the coming ofthe Arrow men, hugged an imaginary form and yelled:
"Oh, Bothwell, you old son-of-a-gun! How I love you!"
The Ranchman Page 27
