Valley of the Vanishing Men

by Brand, Max

  However, Clive Trainor suspected nothing. He felt it was a main point to get out of Alkali without being followed. The girl left in the late afternoon, riding out of Alkali in one direction. Clive Trainor went out after dark. Still later, Blacky and the other two left the town. The party of five assembled two miles outside of Alkali and went on through the night.

  But trouble was in the air. Blacky was thoroughly drunk and could not speak without cursing so vilely that Clive Trainor had to speak to him sharply about it. That small thing started a quarrel, and Clive Trainor ordered Blacky to go back to the town. He was amazed by a downright refusal. When he told the other pair to speed Blacky on his way back, they laughed in his face. A moment later, Clive Trainor was a prisoner, tied to the stirrups of his horse, and the girl was likewise under guard.

  That had not been the original plan of Yates, of course. He had intended to let the girl and Clive show the way to the mine, which was hard to find. But at any rate, the thing was not taken seriously, because it was known that the girl had told Clive Trainor the exact location of the mine, and, therefore, the information could be beaten out of him. Blacky on the spot started the beating. But Clive stuck to his silence until he was knocked senseless.

  He and the girl were taken up into the ravine where the old Spanish mine had been worked centuries before. That stone hut became a torture chamber for Clive Trainor. His body was reduced by every privation. Twice he was given no water for three days. Once he was hung up by the-thumbs and a fire kindled under his feet, but he fainted so instantly, through the pain and his weakness, that they cut him down before he was seriously injured.

  They tried the effect of a whip more than once. His body was half raw and covered with welts from those beatings. But still his iron endurance had held out until Christian, drawn into the difficult affair by the troubled Yates, finally suggested that the girl be tormented in the sight of Clive Trainor.

  That crisis had been witnessed by Ben Trainor, of course. And the rest of the story he knew.

  This tale from Clive Trainor did not come out smoothly, but in broken fragments which had to be pieced together by some guesswork on the part of Ben. But finally he had the thing clearly in his mind.

  In the meantime, he had found a beggarly runlet of water a half mile from the spot — a mere trickle which disappeared among the rocks almost as soon as it lifted its head. There Ben filled the canteens again and again, making trips on the run in spite of his badly damaged feet. With that water he bathed the racked body of Clive and made him more comfortable.

  It was all he could do, except wait for night and pray that strength would return to Clive so that in the cool of the night he could be taken back to Alkali. But in the mid-afternoon, Clive went out of his head with fever. He babbled, laughed, and chattered, or, turning his head from side to side, groaned heavily, deeply.

  That day was a continued agony for Ben Trainor, who waited, praying for night or the return of Silver. And in the early dusk Silver came.

  CHAPTER XV

  Riding Parade

  NEVER was a sight more welcome to human eyes than the picture of the rider of the great horse, with the slinking form of Frosty loping in front. They came up the ravine, and Frosty showed the way, at once, up the side slip where the Trainors had climbed to the top. But half the joy went out of Ben Trainor when he looked into the gloomy face of Jim Silver.

  He had missed Christian again!

  Doubling like a hunted fox into the broken bad lands of a long ravine, Christian had melted from view. Which one of half a hundred wandering little cross canyons the fugitive might have taken, Silver could not determine. Therefore, he had to wait until Frosty came up. And when the wolf came, he had to wait impatiently, until the keen nose of Frosty at last found the trail. After that, he was limited to the speed of the wolf in making the pursuit, and that speed, of course, could not match the striding horse that carried Christian. Finally, late in the afternoon, Silver had found that the trail led out from the highlands onto the desert, and there he had given up his man hunt.

  “You gave it up to come back and see what was happening to Clive. Is that the reason?” asked Trainor seriously.

  “There’ll be another chance to get at Christian’s trail,” said Silver grimly.

  He looked down at Clive, then knelt and felt his pulse for a long moment.

  “He has to have a doctor,” declared Silver, “and he’s too weak to be taken to one. He needs careful nursing, anyway, to pull him through this. Trainor, I’ll be the nurse. You ride to Alkali and get a doctor. Get the best one in the town. There are three of them. The best of the lot for talent is a drunken rascal called Wells. Better not try him, though. He drinks too much for his wits. Alexander is a good doctor. So is Murray. They’re both Scotch and they’re honest. The only fault with them is that they hate each other. Try to get one of the pair.”

  “I ought to stay here with Clive,” said Trainor. “You’d do better with the bringing of the doctor, wouldn’t you?”

  “Your voice might quiet your brother,” admitted Silver, “but he’s beyond recognizing voices, just now.”

  Clive broke into long, delirious laughter, just then, and Silver laid his hand on the flushed brow of the sick man. The laughter died away. After a moment, Clive lay still, breathing hard and fast.

  “What did you do?” whispered Ben Trainor.

  “Animal magnetism — I don’t know what it is,” said Silver. “But it seems to help sick people. You go for the doctor. I’ll take care of Clive well enough, I hope.”

  Ben Trainor argued no more, for he could see that his own care of Clive would be far less efficient than that which big Jim Silver could give. He merely saddled his horse, took a canteen of water, and mounted.

  “They might come back to look for us,” said Ben Trainor. “And whatever they do, they’re moving fast tonight. By tomorrow they know it will be almost too late to file a claim on their stolen mine and certainly after tomorrow, they know they’ll be exposed. Tonight and tomorrow morning is about all the time that’s left to them. They’ll find a way of making the girl talk, tonight. They’ll have the mine located before morning. They’ll file the claim before tomorrow night, and once they file, the law won’t let us shake them off.”

  “It depends,” said Silver, “on whether the girl will hold out for a time or give in.”

  “A girl hold out — against Christian and Yates?” exclaimed Trainor.

  “Your brother held out, and women are stronger than men,” answered Silver.

  “Do you mean that?” asked Trainor.

  A deep groan began to tear the throat of Clive. The sound rippled through the very soul of Ben, but he heard it die away half uttered. The hand of Silver was again comforting the sick man, and relieving him with a hypnotic touch.

  Silver said: “Women stand pain better than men do. Women make better martyrs. Maybe Christian and Yates will have their hands full before they make her talk. But whatever happens, you’re to ride to Alkali. Go fast — take Parade and go fast!”

  At the sound of his name, the great golden stallion came quickly toward his master, pricking up his ears.

  “Ride Parade?” said Ben Trainor. “I know that nobody can ride Parade. No one except you.”

  “He’ll carry you safely enough as soon as you know a few things about him and have an introduction,” said Silver. “Come here, Parade.” The horse came instantly up to him, and Silver laid his hand between the eyes of the chestnut.

  “Put your hand under mine,” he directed Trainor.

  The instant Parade felt the touch of the stranger, his ears twitched back, he snorted and crouched a little. Trainor could feel, clearly, the shudder of revolt and of anger that ran through the great horse.

  “Stroke his neck with your other hand; talk to him, Trainor. Get close to him and pat him like an old friend. As soon as he knows that you’re a partner of mine, he’ll carry you safely enough.”

  Trainor obeyed. It was not easy. Stroki
ng the stallion and talking to him was something like handling a wild lion. He would not have been surprised, at any moment, if the chestnut had leaped away from the detaining touch of Silver and plunged at him with smashing hoofs and tearing teeth.

  “It’s no good,” said Trainor. “I can’t handle him. I can’t make it. I’m afraid of him, and he knows it.”

  “He will obey you like a pet dog, in a moment,” answered Silver, a little sternly. “It’s not a question of fear. He’s not afraid of anything, or of me. Do you think that I beat Parade or rode him into submission? No, no, Trainor. When a man takes a thing by force, he spoils it before he owns it. You’ll always find that true. Parade and I became friends. That’s all. Now you see he’s stopped trembling. Now his ears come up. Get into the saddle, Ben.”

  Trainor, feeling cold with doubt and with fear, put his foot into the stirrup. He remembered the old tales of how this stallion had ranged the desert, wild, and gathered herds, and led them where men could not track him down until Jim Silver went out for weeks and months, and finally put the magic of his hands on the famous horse. More than a hundred thousand dollars, it was said, had been spent by one mustang hunter or another in the great effort to capture Parade, but only Silver had succeeded. And except for obedience to that one master, it was said that the stallion could be as savage as a mountain lion.

  But now Trainor settled softly into the saddle, and felt the horse go down under him on tense springs, ready to hurl him at the sky. Gradually, as Silver talked, the tension relaxed. Parade stood alert, his ears once more pricking.

  Silver stood back with a nod.

  “There’s only one danger now,” he said, “and that’s a danger to Parade. Because if you ask him to, he’ll run his heart out and keep his ears forward and never say no to you, whatever you ask. Remember that. He’ll face guns for you. He’ll charge through a herd of enemies for you and fight his way with his teeth and his hoofs. But treat him well, and only use as much of him as you have to. Now you can start on.”

  “There’s only a hackamore,” said Trainor, still doubtful, though a little ashamed of his doubts.

  “A touch will turn him,” said Silver. “Don’t doubt that. A word to him will do more than a spur. Good-by and good luck, Ben.”

  Ben Trainor turned the great horse. It was true that Parade obeyed a mere touch, though he tossed up his head and whinnied very softly to his master. Then, as though realizing that Silver would do nothing to stop this journey, Parade submitted and gave his attention to the difficult descent down the rocky slide to the level of the desert below.

  He went like a mountain goat, daintily, swiftly, surely. His own self-training in the wilderness told, now, as he seemed to know by instinct which rock would endure his weight and which one was hung on an unsure balance. Lightly, rapidly, he ran a zigzag course to the level of the canyon floor and then strode away with a gait that made Trainor feel that he had been picked up by a strong wind and was being blown effortlessly forward.

  Ben threw back his head. All that had to be done, all the danger of his entry into the town, all fear for his brother’s safety or for that of blue-eyed Nell left him. The whole world went right, when a man sat on the back of Parade.

  The hills walked rapidly past him. In the softer going of the desert sand, the stallion did not relax his striding. Out of the distance the lights of Alkali glittered, spread out wider from side to side. And suddenly Trainor remembered, conscious-stricken, that he had let the stallion run the entire distance at one mighty burst.

  He drew rein, and heard the large labor of the lungs of the stallion and felt the thumping heart under his knee. Parade was dripping and shining with sweat. Another few miles at such a gait and he might, as Silver had warned, have run himself to death, but with a light stride and a swift one to the last moment of his strength. Trainor shook his head with shame and with pity. The rest of the way into town he walked Parade and loved and honored him with every step the horse made.

  CHAPTER XVI

  The Doctor

  IN THAT same close grove of trees where he had tied his mustang the night before, Trainor now left Parade tethered, and patted the wet neck of the chestnut before he stepped out into danger.

  Danger there would be, of course.

  Before he found Doctor Murray or Doctor Alexander, it was very highly probable that he would be seen and recognized by one of the hangers-on of Yates, or a follower of Barry Christian. And the instant that he was known, there was sure to be a hue and cry raised after him. He had a revolver, which he was not very well able to use, and once more he would be confronting men who were born with weapons in their hands.

  However, there was no purpose in waiting. He left the grove and walked up the side street. Before him sounded the hum of the town, and the lights of it were a dull yellow glow above the roofs, here and there, thrown up by the street lamps, or the big oil burners that flared above the saloons and dance halls along the main street. All of those sounds echoed through the mind of Trainor like gloomy warnings of a fate that might not be far away.

  He stopped a half-drunken fellow who was coming down the street with uncertain steps. The man gripped Trainor’s arm and steadied himself to answer the question.

  “Murray or Alexander?” said the drunk. “Well, son, Murray won’t be no more use to you in Alkali. You won’t find him here.”

  “He’s left town?” asked Trainor.

  “He’s up and left us all this afternoon.”

  “You don’t know where he went?”

  “No, sir, I don’t know.”

  “Well, then there’s Alexander. You know where his house is?”

  “Yeah. I know.”

  “Tell me, then, will you?”

  “Why, it’s right up the street, there, two blocks. Got a high fence around it, so’s you can’t make a mistake.”

  “Thanks,” said Trainor, starting to leave.

  “Wait a minute. Alexander ain’t in his house,” said the drunk, pulling at Ben’s arm.

  “No? Where is he, then?”

  “He’s half-way,” said the other.

  “Half-way where?”

  “To hell or heaven. I dunno which. Point is that him and Murray had it out this afternoon. He shot high and got Murray through the head, and that was all there was to that part of it. But Murray shot low and got Alexander through the stomach. And Alexander might live a coupla days. Will your sick friend last that long?”

  “There’s the other one, then,” groaned Trainor. “There’s Doctor Wells. D’you know where he is?”

  “I know where he is,” said the stranger, “but you wouldn’t want him. He wouldn’t be no good to you. Drunken fool, he is! Drunkenness is a terrible thing, partner. You wouldn’t want to take no drunk doctor to a friend, would you?”

  “I’ve got to have a doctor,” said Trainor, “and I’ve got to have one soon. Will you tell me where I can look up Wells? Then I’ll sashay along and find him.”

  “You that kind?” said the drunkard sadly. “You one of the kind that would take a drunk doctor to see a friend? Well, sir, then I don’t want to know nothin’ more of you, I don’t want nothin’ to do with you, and I ain’t goin’ to tell you where to find Doctor Wells.”

  “I want him for a friend that’s drunk, too,” said Trainor.

  “Hey, do you?” exclaimed the stranger. “Well, doggone my rats, that’s different. I could use Wells for that, myself. I gotta drink, partner. The doggone curse of my life is that I gotta weak stomach and I gotta drink to strengthen it up a lot. Y’understand, if you want a doctor for a drunk, Wells would be the best man in the world. He’d be the best man because he’s the one that’s done the most drinkin’. He’s drunk now, up there in the back room of the Golden Hope.”

  That news struck Trainor in the face, heavily. He left his informant and went on slowly, knowing that it was no use to go ahead, but unable to turn back before he had at least looked over the situation. When he got to the rear of the Golden Hope, he c
ould hear the music — a jigging of the violins, a blaring of muffled horns. And he was sickened a little, he knew not why, by the familiarity of the tune and the sweetness of the strings, and the terrible danger that waited for him in the place out of which that music issued.

  Leaning back against the wall, he closed his eyes. To go in was death for him, he was reasonably sure; not to go in was death for his brother, who waited yonder, across the desert, with Jim Silver beside him.

  He was no hero, Trainor told himself. Only men like Silver could rally themselves so as to go strongly and steadily ahead in the face of danger, loving duty more than they loved safety.

  After a moment, he gathered his strength and did what he had done before — he pushed open the unlocked rear door of the place and stepped straight into the narrow hall which split the building into two parts. The same lamp gave him the same dim light.

  He hesitated for an instant, but he knew, now, more about the layout of the place. Off to the left was the dance hall. To the right lay the main bar and the small rooms which were arranged behind it. He had been told that he was apt to find Doctor Wells drinking in one of the back rooms of the place, so he opened the first door to the right.

  He found the place brightly lighted. A man in a checked flannel shirt, with the ends of a rusty-colored mustache showing past the sides of his cheeks, was seated with his back to the door, and facing him, looking straight into the eyes of Trainor, was the dance hall girl, Dolly.

  The sight of her, the sense that he was lost and betrayed, stunned him, and then one of her eyelids fluttered. There was no other change in her expression-just that wink. He drew the door soundlessly shut and stood back in the dimness of the hallway, his brain whirling and his heart ill at ease.

  The wink might have meant almost anything. But the fact that he had been seen was enough to drive him out of the place. Yet he could not go. He was still hesitant when the door jerked quickly open, and let into the hall a flash of brighter lamplight, and Dolly.