by Zane Grey
VIII
THE RUNNING OF BLANCO SOL
THE Yaqui's strange dark glance roved over the corral, the swinginggate with its broken fastenings, the tracks in the road, and thenrested upon Belding.
"Malo," he said, and his Spanish was clear.
"Shore Yaqui, about eight bad men, an' a traitor Indian," said Ladd.
"I think he means my herder," added Belding. "If he does, that settlesany doubt it might be decent to have--Yaqui--malo Papago--Si?"
The Yaqui spread wide his hands. Then he bent over the tracks in theroad. They led everywhither, but gradually he worked out of the thicknet to take the trail that the cowboys had followed down to the river.Belding and the rangers kept close at his heels. Occasionally Dick lenta helping hand to the still feeble Indian. He found a trampled spotwhere the raiders had left their horses. From this point a deeplydefined narrow trail led across the dry river bed.
Belding asked the Yaqui where the raiders would head for in the SonoraDesert. For answer the Indian followed the trail across the stream ofsand, through willows and mesquite, up to the level of rock and cactus.At this point he halted. A sand-filled, almost obliterated trail ledoff to the left, and evidently went round to the east of No NameMountains. To the right stretched the road toward Papago Well and theSonoyta Oasis. The trail of the raiders took a southeasterly courseover untrodden desert. The Yaqui spoke in his own tongue, then inSpanish.
"Think he means slow march," said Belding. "Laddy, from the looks ofthat trail the Greasers are having trouble with the horses."
"Tom, shore a boy could see that," replied Laddy. "Ask Yaqui to tellus where the raiders are headin', an' if there's water."
It was wonderful to see the Yaqui point. His dark hand stretched, hesighted over his stretched finger at a low white escarpment in thedistance. Then with a stick he traced a line in the sand, and then atthe end of that another line at right angles. He made crosses andmarks and holes, and as he drew the rude map he talked in Yaqui, inSpanish; with a word here and there in English. Belding translated asbest he could. The raiders were heading southeast toward the railroadthat ran from Nogales down into Sonora. It was four days' travel, badtrail, good sure waterhole one day out; then water not sure for twodays. Raiders traveling slow; bothered by too many horses, not lookingfor pursuit; were never pursued, could be headed and ambushed thatnight at the first waterhole, a natural trap in a valley.
The men returned to the ranch. The rangers ate and drank while makinghurried preparations for travel. Blanco Sol and the cowboys' horseswere fed, watered, and saddled. Ladd again refused to ride one ofBelding's whites. He was quick and cold.
"Get me a long-range rifle an' lots of shells. Rustle now," he said.
"Laddy, you don't want to be weighted down?" protested Belding.
"Shore I want a gun that'll outshoot the dinky little carbines an'muskets used by the rebels. Trot one out an' be quick."
"I've got a .405, a long-barreled heavy rifle that'll shoot a mile. Iuse it for mountain sheep. But Laddy, it'll break that bronch's back."
"His back won't break so easy.... Dick, take plenty of shells for yourRemington. An' don't forget your field glass."
In less than an hour after the time of the raid the three rangers,heavily armed and superbly mounted on fresh horses, rode out on thetrail. As Gale turned to look back from the far bank of Forlorn River,he saw Nell waving a white scarf. He stood high in his stirrups andwaved his sombrero. Then the mesquites hid the girl's slight figure,and Gale wheeled grim-faced to follow the rangers.
They rode in single file with Ladd in the lead. He did not keep to thetrail of the raiders all the time. He made short cuts. The raiderswere traveling leisurely, and they evinced a liking for the most leveland least cactus-covered stretches of ground. But the cowboy took abee-line course for the white escarpment pointed out by the Yaqui; andnothing save deep washes and impassable patches of cactus or rocks madehim swerve from it. He kept the broncho at a steady walk over therougher places and at a swinging Indian canter over the hard and levelground. The sun grew hot and the wind began to blow. Dust cloudsrolled along the blue horizon. Whirling columns of sand, like waterspouts at sea, circled up out of white arid basins, and swept away andspread aloft before the wind. The escarpment began to rise, to changecolor, to show breaks upon its rocky face.
Whenever the rangers rode out on the brow of a knoll or ridge or aneminence, before starting to descend, Ladd required of Gale a long,careful, sweeping survey of the desert ahead through the field glass.There were streams of white dust to be seen, streaks of yellow dust,trailing low clouds of sand over the glistening dunes, but no steadilyrising, uniformly shaped puffs that would tell a tale of moving horseson the desert.
At noon the rangers got out of the thick cactus. Moreover, thegravel-bottomed washes, the low weathering, rotting ledges of yellowrock gave place to hard sandy rolls and bare clay knolls. The desertresembled a rounded hummocky sea of color. All light shades of blueand pink and yellow and mauve were there dominated by the glaring whitesun. Mirages glistened, wavered, faded in the shimmering waves ofheat. Dust as fine as powder whiffed up from under the tireless hoofs.
The rangers rode on and the escarpment began to loom. The desert floorinclined perceptibly upward. When Gale got an unobstructed view of theslope of the escarpment he located the raiders and horses. In anotherhour's travel the rangers could see with naked eyes a long, faintmoving streak of black and white dots.
"They're headin' for that yellow pass," said Ladd, pointing to a breakin the eastern end of the escarpment. "When they get out of sightwe'll rustle. I'm thinkin' that waterhole the Yaqui spoke of lays inthe pass."
The rangers traveled swiftly over the remaining miles of level desertleading to the ascent of the escarpment. When they achieved thegateway of the pass the sun was low in the west. Dwarfed mesquite andgreasewood appeared among the rocks. Ladd gave the word to tie uphorses and go forward on foot.
The narrow neck of the pass opened and descended into a valley half amile wide, perhaps twice that in length. It had apparently unscalableslopes of weathered rock leading up to beetling walls. With floor bareand hard and white, except for a patch of green mesquite near the farend it was a lurid and desolate spot, the barren bottom of a desertbowl.
"Keep down, boys" said Ladd. "There's the waterhole an' hosses havesharp eyes. Shore the Yaqui figgered this place. I never seen itslike for a trap."
Both white and black horses showed against the green, and a thincurling column of blue smoke rose lazily from amid the mesquites.
"I reckon we'd better wait till dark, or mebbe daylight," said Jim Lash.
"Let me figger some. Dick, what do you make of the outlet to thishole? Looks rough to me."
With his glass Gale studied the narrow construction of walls androughened rising floor.
"Laddy, it's harder to get out at that end than here," he replied.
"Shore that's hard enough. Let me have a look.... Well, boys, it don'ttake no figgerin' for this job. Jim, I'll want you at the other endblockin' the pass when we're ready to start."
"When'll that be?" inquired Jim.
"Soon as it's light enough in the mornin'. That Greaser outfit willhang till to-morrow. There's no sure water ahead for two days, youremember."
"I reckon I can slip through to the other end after dark," said Lash,thoughtfully. "It might get me in bad to go round."
The rangers stole back from the vantage point and returned to theirhorses, which they untied and left farther round among broken sectionsof cliff. For the horses it was a dry, hungry camp, but the rangersbuilt a fire and had their short though strengthening meal.
The location was high, and through a break in the jumble of rocks thegreat colored void of desert could be seen rolling away endlessly tothe west. The sun set, and after it had gone down the golden tips ofmountains dulled, their lower shadows creeping upward.
Jim Lash rolled in his saddle blanket,
his feet near the fire, and wentto sleep. Ladd told Gale to do likewise while he kept the fire up andwaited until it was late enough for Jim to undertake circling round theraiders. When Gale awakened the night was dark, cold, windy. Thestars shone with white brilliance. Jim was up saddling his horse, andLadd was talking low. When Gale rose to accompany them both rangerssaid he need not go. But Gale wanted to go because that was the thingLadd or Jim would have done.
With Ladd leading, they moved away into the gloom. Advance wasexceedingly slow, careful, silent. Under the walls the blacknessseemed impenetrable. The horse was as cautious as his master. Ladd didnot lose his way, nevertheless he wound between blocks of stone andclumps of mesquite, and often tried a passage to abandon it. Finallythe trail showed pale in the gloom, and eastern stars twinkled betweenthe lofty ramparts of the pass.
The advance here was still as stealthily made as before, but not sodifficult or slow. When the dense gloom of the pass lightened, andthere was a wide space of sky and stars overhead, Ladd halted and stoodsilent a moment.
"Luck again!" he whispered. "The wind's in your face, Jim. The horseswon't scent you. Go slow. Don't crack a stone. Keep close under thewall. Try to get up as high as this at the other end. Wait tilldaylight before riskin' a loose slope. I'll be ridin' the job early.That's all."
Ladd's cool, easy speech was scarcely significant of the perilousundertaking. Lash moved very slowly away, leading his horse. The softpads of hoofs ceased to sound about the time the gray shape merged intothe black shadows. Then Ladd touched Dick's arm, and turned back upthe trail.
But Dick tarried a moment. He wanted a fuller sense of thatebony-bottomed abyss, with its pale encircling walls reaching up to thedusky blue sky and the brilliant stars. There was absolutely no sound.
He retraced his steps down, soon coming up with Ladd; and together theypicked a way back through the winding recesses of cliff. The campfirewas smoldering. Ladd replenished it and lay down to get a few hours'sleep, while Gale kept watch. The after part of the night wore on tillthe paling of stars, the thickening of gloom indicated the dark hourbefore dawn. The spot was secluded from wind, but the air grew cold asice. Gale spent the time stripping wood from a dead mesquite, inpacing to and fro, in listening. Blanco Sol stamped occasionally,which sound was all that broke the stilliness. Ladd awoke before thefaintest gray appeared. The rangers ate and drank. When the black didlighten to gray they saddled the horses and led them out to the passand down to the point where they had parted with Lash. Here theyawaited daylight.
To Gale it seemed long in coming. Such a delay always aggravated theslow fire within him. He had nothing of Ladd's patience. He wantedaction. The gray shadow below thinned out, and the patch of mesquitemade a blot upon the pale valley. The day dawned.
Still Ladd waited. He grew more silent, grimmer as the time of actionapproached. Gale wondered what the plan of attack would be. Yet hedid not ask. He waited ready for orders.
The valley grew clear of gray shadow except under leaning walls on theeastern side. Then a straight column of smoke rose from among themesquites. Manifestly this was what Ladd had been awaiting. He tookthe long .405 from its sheath and tried the lever. Then he lifted acartridge belt from the pommel of his saddle. Every ring held a shelland these shells were four inches long. He buckled the belt round him.
"Come on, Dick."
Ladd led the way down the slope until he reached a position thatcommanded the rising of the trail from a level. It was the only placea man or horse could leave the valley for the pass.
"Dick, here's your stand. If any raider rides in range take a crack athim.... Now I want the lend of your hoss."
"Blanco Sol!" exclaimed Gale, more in amazement that Ladd should askfor the horse than in reluctance to lend him.
"Will you let me have him?" Ladd repeated, almost curtly.
"Certainly, Laddy."
A smile momentarily chased the dark cold gloom that had set upon theranger's lean face.
"Shore I appreciate it, Dick. I know how you care for that hoss. Iguess mebbe Charlie Ladd has loved a hoss! An' one not so good as Sol.I was only tryin' your nerve, Dick, askin' you without tellin' my plan.Sol won't get a scratch, you can gamble on that! I'll ride him downinto the valley an' pull the greasers out in the open. They've gotshort-ranged carbines. They can't keep out of range of the .405, an'I'll be takin' the dust of their lead. Sabe, senor?"
"Laddy! You'll run Sol away from the raiders when they chase you? Runhim after them when they try to get away?"
"Shore. I'll run all the time. They can't gain on Sol, an' he'll runthem down when I want. Can you beat it?"
"No. It's great!... But suppose a raider comes out on Blanco Diablo?"
"I reckon that's the one weak place in my plan. I'm figgerin' they'llnever think of that till it's too late. But if they do, well, Sol canoutrun Diablo. An' I can always kill the white devil!"
Ladd's strange hate of the horse showed in the passion of his lastwords, in his hardening jaw and grim set lips.
Gale's hand went swiftly to the ranger's shoulder.
"Laddy. Don't kill Diablo unless it's to save your life."
"All right. But, by God, if I get a chance I'll make Blanco Sol runhim off his legs!"
He spoke no more and set about changing the length of Sol's stirrups.When he had them adjusted to suit he mounted and rode down the trailand out upon the level. He rode leisurely as if merely going to waterhis horse. The long black rifle lying across his saddle, however, wasominous.
Gale securely tied the other horse to a mesquite at hand, and took aposition behind a low rock over which he could easily see and shootwhen necessary. He imagined Jim Lash in a similar position at the farend of the valley blocking the outlet. Gale had grown accustomed todanger and the hard and fierce feelings peculiar to it. But the comingdrama was so peculiarly different in promise from all he hadexperienced, that he waited the moment of action with thrillingintensity. In him stirred long, brooding wrath at these borderraiders--affection for Belding, and keen desire to avenge the outrageshe had suffered--warm admiration for the cold, implacable Ladd and hisabsolute fearlessness, and a curious throbbing interest in the old,much-discussed and never-decided argument as to whether Blanco Sol wasfleeter, stronger horse than Blanco Diablo. Gale felt that he was tosee a race between these great rivals--the kind of race that made menand horses terrible.
Ladd rode a quarter of a mile out upon the flat before anythinghappened. Then a whistle rent the still, cold air. A horse had seenor scented Blanco Sol. The whistle was prolonged, faint, but clear.It made the blood thrum in Gale's ears. Sol halted. His head shot upwith the old, wild, spirited sweep. Gale leveled his glass at thepatch of mesquites. He saw the raiders running to an open place,pointing, gesticulating. The glass brought them so close that he sawthe dark faces. Suddenly they broke and fled back among the trees.Then he got only white and dark gleams of moving bodies. Evidentlythat moment was one of boots, guns, and saddles for the raiders.
Lowering the glass, Gale saw that Blanco Sol had started forward again.His gait was now a canter, and he had covered another quarter of a milebefore horses and raiders appeared upon the outskirts of the mesquites.Then Blanco Sol stopped. His shrill, ringing whistle came distinctly toGale's ears. The raiders were mounted on dark horses, and they stoodabreast in a motionless line. Gale chuckled as he appreciated what apuzzle the situation presented for them. A lone horseman in the middleof the valley did not perhaps seem so menacing himself as thepossibilities his presence suggested.
Then Gale saw a raider gallop swiftly from the group toward the fartheroutlet of the valley. This might have been owing to characteristiccowardice; but it was more likely a move of the raiders to make sure ofretreat. Undoubtedly Ladd saw this galloping horseman. A few waitingmoments ensued. The galloping horseman reached the slope, began toclimb. With naked eyes Gale saw a puff of white smoke spring out ofthe rocks. Then the raider wheeled h
is plunging horse back to thelevel, and went racing wildly down the valley.
The compact bunch of bays and blacks seemed to break apart and spreadrapidly from the edge of the mesquites. Puffs of white smoke indicatedfiring, and showed the nature of the raiders' excitement. They were farout of ordinary range, but they spurred toward Ladd, shooting as theyrode. Ladd held his ground; the big white horse stood like a rock inhis tracks. Gale saw little spouts of dust rise in front of Blanco Soland spread swift as sight to his rear. The raiders' bullets, strikinglow, were skipping along the hard, bare floor of the valley. Then Laddraised the long rifle. There was no smoke, but three high, spangingreports rang out. A gap opened in the dark line of advancing horsemen;then a riderless steed sheered off to the right. Blanco Sol seemed toturn as on a pivot and charged back toward the lower end of the valley.He circled over to Gale's right and stretched out into his run. Therewere now five raiders in pursuit, and they came sweeping down, yellingand shooting, evidently sure of their quarry. Ladd reserved his fire.He kept turning from back to front in his saddle.
Gale saw how the space widened between pursuers and pursued, sawdistinctly when Ladd eased up Sol's running. Manifestly Ladd intendedto try to lead the raiders round in front of Gale's position, and,presently, Gale saw he was going to succeed. The raiders, riding likevaqueros, swept on in a curve, cutting off what distance they could.One fellow, a small, wiry rider, high on his mount's neck like ajockey, led his companions by many yards. He seemed to be getting therange of Ladd, or else he shot high, for his bullets did not strike upthe dust behind Sol. Gale was ready to shoot. Blanco Sol pounded by,his rapid, rhythmic hoofbeats plainly to be heard. He was runningeasily.
Gale tried to still the jump of heart and pulse, and turned his eyeagain on the nearest pursuer. This raider was crossing in, his carbineheld muzzle up in his right hand, and he was coming swiftly. It was along shot, upward of five hundred yards. Gale had not time to adjustthe sights of the Remington, but he knew the gun and, holding coarselyupon the swiftly moving blot, he began to shoot. The first bullet sentup a great splash of dust beneath the horse's nose, making him leap asif to hurdle a fence. The rifle was automatic; Gale needed only to pullthe trigger. He saw now that the raiders behind were in line. Swiftlyhe worked the trigger. Suddenly the leading horse leaped convulsively,not up nor aside, but straight ahead, and then he crashed to the groundthrowing his rider like a catapult, and then slid and rolled. He halfgot up, fell back, and kicked; but his rider never moved.
The other raiders sawed the reins of plunging steeds and whirled toescape the unseen battery. Gale slipped a fresh clip into the magazineof his rifle. He restrained himself from useless firing and gave eagereye to the duel below. Ladd began to shoot while Sol was running. The.405 rang out sharply--then again. The heavy bullets streaked the dustall the way across the valley. Ladd aimed deliberately and pulledslowly, unmindful of the kicking dust-puffs behind Sol, and to theside. The raiders spurred madly in pursuit, loading and firing. Theyshot ten times while Ladd shot once, and all in vain; and on Ladd'ssixth shot a raider topped backward, threw his carbine and fell withhis foot catching in a stirrup. The frightened horse plunged away,dragging him in a path of dust.
Gale had set himself to miss nothing of that fighting race, yet theaction passed too swiftly for clear sight of all. Ladd had emptied amagazine, and now Blanco Sol quickened and lengthened his runningstride. He ran away from his pursuers. Then it was that the ranger'sruse was divined by the raiders. They hauled sharply up and seemed tobe conferring. But that was a fatal mistake. Blanco Sol was seen tobreak his gait and slow down in several jumps, then square away andstand stockstill. Ladd fired at the closely grouped raiders. Aninstant passed. Then Gale heard the spat of a bullet out in front, sawa puff of dust, then heard the lead strike the rocks and go whiningaway. And it was after this that one of the raiders fell prone fromhis saddle. The steel-jacketed .405 had gone through him on itsuninterrupted way to hum past Gale's position.
The remaining two raiders frantically spurred their horses and fled upthe valley. Ladd sent Sol after them. It seemed to Gale, even thoughhe realized his excitement, that Blanco Sol made those horses seem likesnails. The raiders split, one making for the eastern outlet, theother circling back of the mesquites. Ladd kept on after the latter.Then puffs of white smoke and rifle shots faintly crackling told JimLash's hand in the game. However, he succeeded only in driving theraider back into the valley. But Ladd had turned the other horseman,and now it appeared the two raiders were between Lash above on thestony slope and Ladd below on the level. There was desperate riding onpart of the raiders to keep from being hemmed in closer. Only one ofthem got away, and he came riding for life down under the eastern wall.Blanco Sol settled into his graceful, beautiful swing. He gainedsteadily, though he was far from extending himself. By Gale's actualcount the raider fired eight times in that race down the valley, andall his bullets went low and wide. He pitched the carbine away and lostall control in headlong flight.
Some few hundred rods to the left of Gale the raider put his horse tothe weathered slope. He began to climb. The horse was superb,infinitely more courageous than his rider. Zigzag they went up and up,and when Ladd reached the edge of the slope they were high along thecracked and guttered rampart. Once--twice Ladd raised the long rifle,but each time he lowered it. Gale divined that the ranger's restraintwas not on account of the Mexican, but for that valiant and faithfulhorse. Up and up he went, and the yellow dust clouds rose, and anavalanche rolled rattling and cracking down the slope. It was beyondbelief that a horse, burdened or unburdened, could find footing andhold it upon that wall of narrow ledges and inverted, slanting gullies.But he climbed on, sure-footed as a mountain goat, and, surmounting thelast rough steps, he stood a moment silhouetted against the white sky.Then he disappeared. Ladd sat astride Blanco Sol gazing upward. Howthe cowboy must have honored that raider's brave steed!
Gale, who had been too dumb to shout the admiration he felt, suddenlyleaped up, and his voice came with a shriek:
"LOOK OUT, LADDY!"
A big horse, like a white streak, was bearing down to the right of theranger. Blanco Diablo! A matchless rider swung with the horse'smotion. Gale was stunned. Then he remembered the first raider, theone Lash had shot at and driven away from the outlet. This fellow hadmade for the mesquite and had put a saddle on Belding's favorite. Inthe heat of the excitement, while Ladd had been intent upon theclimbing horse, this last raider had come down with the speed of thewind straight for the western outlet. Perhaps, very probably, he didnot know Gale was there to block it; and certainly he hoped to passLadd and Blanco Sol.
A touch of the spur made Sol lunge forward to head off the raider.Diablo was in his stride, but the distance and angle favored Sol. Theraider had no carbine. He held aloft a gun ready to level it and fire.He sat the saddle as if it were a stationary seat. Gale saw Ladd leandown and drop the .405 in the sand. He would take no chances ofwounding Belding's best-loved horse.
Then Gale sat transfixed with suspended breath watching the horsesthundering toward him. Blanco Diablo was speeding low, fleet as anantelope, fierce and terrible in his devilish action, a horse for warand blood and death. He seemed unbeatable. Yet to see themagnificently running Blanco Sol was but to court a doubt. Gale stoodspellbound. He might have shot the raider; but he never thought ofsuch a thing. The distance swiftly lessened. Plain it was the raidercould not make the opening ahead of Ladd. He saw it and swerved to theleft, emptying his six-shooter as he turned. His dark face gleamed ashe flashed by Gale.
Blanco Sol thundered across. Then the race became straight away up thevalley. Diablo was cold and Sol was hot; therein lay the only handicapand vantage. It was a fleet, beautiful, magnificent race. Galethrilled and exulted and yelled as his horse settled into a steadilyswifter run and began to gain. The dust rolled in a funnel-shapedcloud from the flying hoofs. The raider wheeled with gun puffingwhite, and Ladd ducked low
over the neck of his horse.
The gap between Diablo and Sol narrowed yard by yard. At first it hadbeen a wide one. The raider beat his mount and spurred, beat andspurred, wheeled round to shoot, then bent forward again. In his circleat the upper end of the valley he turned far short of the jumble ofrocks.
All the devil that was in Blanco Diablo had its running on the downwardstretch. The strange, cruel urge of bit and spur, the crazed rider whostuck like a burr upon him, the shots and smoke added terror to hisnatural violent temper. He ran himself off his feet. But he could notelude that relentless horse behind him. The running of Blanco Sol wasthat of a sure, remorseless driving power--steadier--stronger--swifterwith every long and wonderful stride.
The raider tried to sheer Diablo off closer under the wall, to make theslope where his companion had escaped. But Diablo was uncontrollable.He was running wild, with breaking gait. Closer and closer crept thatwhite, smoothly gliding, beautiful machine of speed.
Then, like one white flash following another, the two horses gleameddown the bank of a wash and disappeared in clouds of dust.
Gale watched with strained and smarting eyes. The thick throb in hisears was pierced by faint sounds of gunshots. Then he waited in almostunendurable suspense.
Suddenly something whiter than the background of dust appeared abovethe low roll of valley floor. Gale leveled his glass. In the clearcircle shone Blanco Sol's noble head with its long black bar from earsto nose. Sol's head was drooping now. Another second showed Laddstill in the saddle.
The ranger was leading BlancoDiable--spent--broken--dragging--riderless.
