by Zane Grey
“It ain’t worryin’ me none, ’cause I’m ridin’ a plug.”
“Come an’ git it before I throw it out,” yelled the cook.
The call to supper roused loud acclaims, stirrings about, clankings of tin pans, pouring of hot coffee, and sundry other sounds incident to a group of hungry men crowding around for food. Then things quieted down, while the men were busy eating. Patricia became aware of a pleasant permeating fragrance of coffee. It made her realize that it was a long time since she had eaten. Sue whispered in her ear, “Of all the hard luck! I’m starved. And they shore got a cook.”
“Jewer hear of Oliver Twist?” queried Tine.
“Nope. Whar does he ride?”
“He was a boy who asked for more grub. Mister Lincoln, I’ll say you have some cook.”
“Help yourself, lad,” replied the cook, speaking for himself. “Plenty meat an’ beans.”
“Wal, tell us what’s going on in Flag an’ all over,” demanded Dyott presently, raising from his seat.
“Lots of news,” drawled Nels, and he began to talk as if that were his forte. “There’s a lot of fellars dyin’ from drinkin’ bootleg whiskey. Tur’ble stuff that is. An’ there’s more fightin’ in Noo York between bootleggers an’ officers than there was in the war. The Japs are buildin’ a million flyin’ ships to fly over the U. S. an’ blow it off the map.”
From that introduction Nels skipped blandly to Flagstaff and discoursed on local politics, business, cattle, sheep, lumber, the dry season, motion pictures, railroad wrecks, and what not.
“Wal, boy, you’re a regular encyclopeder,” replied Dyott.
“Bing, we’re shore livin’ in a cave holed up at each end,” said the man Dave significantly.
“Seems like,” returned Dyott. “Say boys, air thar any talk about the starvin’ deer on Buckskin?”
“Some,” replied Nels reflectively. “I read in the paper about it. Not much talk yet, though.”
“Wal, it’s a fact. Reckon most the herd’ll starve this fall an’ winter. Twenty or thirty thousand, anyway. They’re eatin’ bark now.”
“Too bad,” said Nels. “That was one thing me an’ Tine wanted to find out. If there was such a big bunch of deer in the first place, an’ if they was starvin’ in the second.”
“They’re starvin’ every place. Haw! Haw!” replied Dyott. “Wal, men, seein’ we have to wrangle hosses at daylight an’ git started early, we’d better turn in.”
Somebody kicked the dying fire and threw on a stick of wood. Then followed shuffling of feet, sliding of packs.
Patricia heard boots on the ladder. Sue’s hand pressed down on her hand, as if to compel silence. But Patricia could neither have screamed nor moved just then. Someone was climbing to the loft. Her blood froze. She held her breath.
“Tine, throw my bed roll up. I’ll bunk in the loft,” called Nels.
Sue let out a little gasp. Patricia for a moment lay rigid; then her body went slack. She opened her eyes to see Nels’s head and shoulders above the floor of the loft. He sat on the edge and leaned to catch his bed.
“Tine, reckon you stuffed too much good grub,” drawled Nels. “You’re plumb weak. Heave her, now—”
There followed a grunt, a deep breath, a wrestling sound, then hand slapping hard on canvas, and a dull thud.
“You didn’t have to stand under it when you pitched it. Tine, your mind ain’t operatin’. Try again.”
Nels caught his bed roll and heaved it up on the loft floor and rolled it over between the ladder and where the girls lay. He was on his knees whistling, not very distinct in the gloom. Then he stretched out and put a reassuring hand on Sue’s shoulder and after that on Patricia’s. It had a warning yet hopeful pressure. But he did not bend nearer. Unrolling his pack, he pulled out blankets and tossed one to Sue and one to Patricia, all the time humming tunelessly.
“Nels, shall I bunk up there too?” queried Tine.
“It ain’t particular level up here, Tine,” responded Nels, “but now I got my roll open I reckon I’ll stay. You sleep right under the edge, so when I fall off I’ll light on somethin’ soft.”
Nels did not get into his bed but reclined upon it, with his hand toward the girls, and only a few feet away. Sue had quietly spread her blanket and rolled upon it, a task Patricia finally had courage to essay. It took her a long time to accomplish it noiselessly. The blanket mitigated some of her discomfort.
After a few moments, Nels’s dark form began to worm silently closer, until his head was right at Sue’s. He whispered, but Patricia could not catch what he was saying. After he had moved back to his former position, Sue leaned over toward Patricia.
“Nels says when they’re all asleep we’ll slip out,” she whispered.
That was welcome news to Patricia. And she relaxed into a less strained position. Possibly the distant day might come when she could recall this adventure with a pleasurable thrill.
Gradually the men below quieted down, and deep breathing and snores took the place of voices. The fire burned to a ruddy glow of coals and soon pitch-darkness enveloped the loft. Mice began to squeak and patter somewhere under the roof; the wind outside had a strange mournful sound; she heard the sharp bark of a forest animal. It began to be a difficult matter to keep her eyes open. She could not see anything, but when she shut them, a drowsiness stole over her. That She might go to sleep was amazing. Still, the day had been one of long and toiling hours, and she now felt unutterably weary. She fought sleep. Then, when she was about to succumb to it, she felt Sue’s hands.
“Come, we’re going,” Sue whispered. “Crawl close to me. Careful. No noise!”
Sue’s voice, with its purport, caused Patricia’s muscles to shake so that she could scarcely get to her hands and knees. Inch by inch Sue crawled. And Patricia, guided by Sue’s boots, kept close behind. But she could not crawl without rustling, scraping sounds. When Sue reached back to give her a sharp tug, she knew what it meant, and that made her only worse. How black the darkness! The cabin was like a cave underneath the ground. Patricia nerved herself to the utmost in anticipation of descending that ladder silently. This was her first real experience with actual physical fear. There were other emotions, too, but fear predominated. While she found to her surprise that her spirit rose rather than sank under it, she had no control of her muscles, and inevitably she made a noise.
“Hey cowboy, what you fussin’ about up thar?” came a gruff query from Dyott.
After a moment, Nels replied, “Huh? What? It’s me. Aw, reckon I had a nightmare.”
“Wal, I most forgot you was up thar,” said Dyott. “Had an idee a wildcat was prowlin’ around. Come near takin’ a shot at you.”
Then silence ensued, fraught with a terrible suspense. Nels did not answer or move. Sue did not move. Patricia had to stay there on hands and knees, absolutely motionless, for so long that she grew numb. At last Sue turned and crawled back beside her to whisper so softly that Patricia could scarcely get her meaning:
“Nels says too big risk. Must wait till mawnin’.”
Sue’s message brought immense relief to Patricia. At the same time she realized that it was her fault that Nels’s plans had to be changed. Anything but that infinitely slow, silent crawl toward the ladder in the darkness! Somehow she got back to the blanket and sank upon it utterly spent. She had been shivering and now she was burning. She had no fear now of falling asleep! The long hours seemed to drag, but for all she knew they might have been moments. Sue neither moved nor whispered again. The time came when Patricia had to stretch forth a hand to assure herself that Sue was really there. Her hand was trembling. Instantly Sue seized it and held it tightly for a moment.
Waiting and listening, with mind crowded by thoughts and feelings, Patricia lay there in the pitch-black night so long that it seemed as though she could no longer endure the motionless position, the lonely moan of wind outside, the constant proximity to these ruffians below. Then, suddenly, she made the discovery that the bl
ackness of the loft was changing to gray. Dawn would be coming soon, and with it some decisive change for better or worse in their present predicament.
Someone below rolled over, yawned heavily, and sat up, evidently to pull on his boots.
“Pedro, you an’ Mex crawl out an’ wrangle the hosses—you hear me?”
It was Dyott’s voice giving these orders. Other orders followed, and they were carried out with alacrity. In a very few moments all his crew were up, and a fire was crackling.
“Nels,” called Higgenbottom, “are you dead?”
“Say, is it time to get up?” called Nels sleepily.
“It’s time for a lot,” replied Tine in an ambiguous tone. He might have meant anything.
Presently Patricia and Sue were left alone in the loft, gazing at each other in the growing light. Below them a considerable bustle attested to the hurried preparations of Dyott’s men for an early departure. Patricia heard the voices of Nels and Tine mingled with the others. Time passed, and daylight appeared to have arrived. If anything untoward was to happen, it would not be long now. Again Patricia felt the mounting of suspense. But daylight seemed to lend her more reason and control, if not actual courage. Sue was growing impatient and curious; she crawled forward a little, dared to raise her head to peep. When Patricia heard the thud of many hoofs and realized horses were being brought in, she applied her eye to the crack in the floor, and by pressing her face down to the board, she managed to see part of the cabin room below, the doorway, and the ground outside. It was broad daylight now.
She saw a big man pause before the doorstep, stoop, and pick up something. Nothing less than her beaded and fringed buckskin gloves! Patricia suffered a violent shock, then a bursting sensation of ice suddenly congealing all along her veins.
“Dyott, come out hyar,” called the man sharply.
Another burly man entered the range of Patricia’s vision, blocked the doorway, then stepped outside. At the same instant, Nels appeared a little farther out; and in a flash his tanned face turned pale. His eyes, sharp between narrowed eyelids, were fixed on the gloves the man was holding out to Dyott.
“Found them right thar,” he said, pointing to the ground beside the step.
“Wal!” ejaculated Dyott.
Nels stepped forward to confront the leader.
“Reckon I dropped them,” he said.
“Orful pretty gauntlets,” dryly remarked Dyott’s comrade.
“Dave, them’s a gurl’s,” declared Dyott, holding one of them out and letting it hang.
“I knowed thet as soon as I seen them,” replied Dave, with a huge dirty paw stroking his bearded chin.
Nels reached a lean hand, like a claw, to take the gloves, but Dyott pulled them away. He glared at Nels and then at Tine, who had come close.
“Say man, they’re mine,” said Nels testily. “Bought them at El Tovar for my girl. Reckon I dropped them out of my pocket last evenin’.”
“Pocket, nothin’!” burst out Dyott. “They look like thet, don’t they? Flat like you set on them in the saddle, huh? I don’t think! Them gloves have still got the shape of hands to ’em.”
Dyott thrust them to the man Dave and then swiftly he drew a gun on Nels.
“An’ you too,” he said, hard and grim, indicating Higgenbottom by a wave of the gun. “Line up together, an’ be orful careful.”
“Is this a holdup?” queried Nels sharply.
“Dave, hyar’s my gun. Jest keep these gennelmen covered. I’ve a hunch.”
Patricia shrank back from the crack and looked at Sue. She was crouched, as if ready to spring erect. Below, the excitement had extended to the rest of Dyott’s men.
“Ahuh! Look at thet,” spoke up the leader harshly. “Little boot track, made last night. Hyar’s more, an’ a little one…. Git back out of the door, you fellars.”
Dyott stamped inside and plumped down on his knees at the foot of the ladder. There followed a moment of silence, in which Patricia thought she was going to faint. Suddenly she heard Dyott’s boots crunch on the floor and then thud on the rungs of the ladder. Sue swung erect to her knees, rigid, instinct with fright. Patricia was at last terrified.
A big-headed, burly-shouldered man appeared above the level of the loft floor, wheeled on the ladder to see the girls.
“Wal!” he shouted. “Reckon I had it figgered…. Come down out of hyar!”
That broke up the inaction below; the men crowded forward, exclaiming.
“Who’s up thar, Bing?” queried one ringingly.
“What’d you think? A couple of gurls!”
“Ben up thar all night?”
“Wal, I should smile, an’ thet’s what’s eatin’ me,” replied Dyott. “Who air you, anyway?”
“None of your business,” retorted Sue.
“Is thet so? Wal, pile down out of hyar pronto. I want a look at you gurls.”
Sue made no move to comply, and Patricia felt clamped in cold lead. She saw the man lurch up higher, thrust a huge knee over on the loft floor, and glare at Sue.
“Air you comin’ down? If I have to git up hyar—” he said roughly, snatching at Sue and almost reaching her.
“Don’t you—touch me,” cried Sue, her voice breaking in fear and rage. “Get back down the ladder. I’ll come—we’ll both come.”
Dyott backed down out of sight and jumped heavily to the floor.
“Bing, what’s the deal?” demanded the man with the sharp voice.
“Great Scott, men, thar’s two gurls up thar,” answered Dyott.
“Then they was thar last night when you come in hyar with your man.”
“Thet’s jest what we’re up against,” said Dyott sullenly. “Hey you up thar. Hurry down.”
Sue must have had a thought of how terrible this must be for Patricia, for she helped her to her feet and to the ladder. Then Sue descended first. Patricia found strength to grasp the upper rung, step down, and slowly descend to face the four most villainous-looking men she had ever seen. The biggest of them, bearded, gleaming-eyed, fiercely ugly, deliberately thrust her and Sue out of the door. The eastern girl nearly fell. She caught herself and staggered back against the log cabin. The fifth ruffian still had Nels and Tine covered with a gun.
“Let’s hev a look at you,” began Dyott. “Ahuh! Two pretty gurls, one little an’ one big. Both wearin’ men’s pants! Wal, reckon you can be handled like men.”
“Dyott, you’ll get yours if you touch those girls,” burst out Nels, white and glazing-eyed.
“Come hyar, you yellow-haired kitten,” growled Dyott, suddenly grasping Sue by the front of her blouse. It ripped. He swung her clear off her feet and, drawing her close, bent his huge head until it was almost parallel with her face. “You was up thar last night when we rode in hyar, wasn’t you?”
“Yes—we were,” panted Sue. “Let go—you brute!”
“Stop squirmin’ an’ squallin’ or I’ll tear your shirt off,” he bawled. “Listen hyar. You was up thar by accident? Seen us comin’ an’ hid, huh?”
“Yes,” answered Sue, ceasing her struggles. Her face was now white except for red spots in her cheeks, and her eyes burned with a wonderful fire.
“You heard me come in with thet man an’ what he said?” he queried furiously.
“I heard every word,” declared Sue.
He flung her back against the wall beside Patricia, and as he faced his men, he actually threw up his hands.
“Well, he was right. The walls did hev ears. Now what’n earth’s to come off?”
None of his men appeared able to help him out of his dilemma. Dyott glared at them, then at Dave and the cowboys.
“Reckon I can tell you what you’d better do,” spoke up Nels.
“Shet up, you loose-jawed gab flinger, or I’ll mash you one,” returned Dyott fiercely. Then he wheeled to Sue. “Who’re you?”
“My name is Sue Warren. I’m from Flagstaff,” replied the girl. “My friend heah is a tourist from New York. We crossed the c
anyon with the cowboys as guides. Our pack outfit stampeded, and while they chased off we happened on this cabin. We saw you ridin’ up and we hid in the loft.”
“Ahuh! I figgered somethin’ like,” returned Dyott darkly. “Wal, it’d been better fer you if you’d not hid up thar.”
Dyott turned to the tall sallow-faced, drooping-mustached member of his gang.
“Reckon we gotta tie up this oufit. I’ll take them down in the brakes an’ hold them prisoners till—”
“Bing, I’m advisin’ agin thet,” interrupted the man. “It’s bad enough to throw a gun on cowboys, let alone kidnap two girls. Well, man, we ain’t back in the old Hash Knife days.”
“I’ve a chance to clean up an’ I’m takin’ it,” responded Dyott grimly.
“Wal, I’m passin ’ the buck. I’ll stand fer the deal we’re on, ’cause there’re men in sympathy with it. But this hyar stunt is a fool stunt.”
“Say, you’d let this sassy little cat go blab all she’s heerd?” demanded Dyott incredulously.
“Sure I would,” replied the other bluntly. “Thet’d be better than makin’ it wuss. Mebbe she’s bluffin, anyhow. She looks equal to it.”
“Wal, I can’t afford the risk. Even if she never heerd a word, she could queer my deal…. Tie them cowboys up.”
Two of the men advanced, one to take a lariat from a saddled horse, and the other to walk back of Nels and pinion his arms behind.
“Bing Dyott, you’ll pay dear for this,” muttered Nels, his lean face corded and drawn.
“Look out! Grab her!” yelled the tall man.
The sharp command roused Patricia out of her trance. Sue had darted by the men. She was as quick as a fleet-footed boy. Leaping upon one of the horses, she screamed and kicked. It reared with a snort, plunged down, and broke into headlong flight across the glade. Dyott and his men stood petrified. In a moment Sue had entered the forest; in another she was out of sight. Nels let out a cowboy yell. It was a shout of relief and admiration of the Texas girl’s courage.
“Chase her,” harshly ordered Dyott, frantic with rage. “Pedro! Mex! Run her down!”
