CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Wentz, hovering in the corridor of the Tombstone jail, had overheard theconversation between the jailer and Glendon. With knowledge ofPanchita's death, Wentz realized that his own plans were in chaos.Glendon's nonchalant attitude at the news confirmed Wentz's belief thatGlendon knew where the money had been concealed by the Mexican girl.
"If Glendon were free," Wentz muttered, "he would probably get the moneyat the first opportunity. There may be a chance after all."
Deep in thought, he returned to the room where the jailer waited for thedeputy to relieve him that he might go home to supper. Wentz picked up anewspaper and began to read. The deputy entered the room, and nodded tothe jailer, who exchanged a few casual words with him and departed.Wentz had greeted the new-comer, but a curt nod had been the onlyresponse.
The curse of Judas was upon Wentz. Since the trial none of the men hehad betrayed would speak to him, and their eyes were threatening. Othermen in the jail, officials as well as prisoners, held him in opencontempt. Outside were those who made dire threats of vengeance. Wentzenvied his former comrades and began to feel that he would rather sharetheir punishment than face his own black future. He was without money.No place in Arizona would harbour a traitor; no man would trust him orhold out a hand in comradeship. The railroad would give him work, so hewould not starve, but life would be unbearable. If he made his way toanother section, it would mean without a cent in his pocket, no credit,no work. If he could only find where that undivided money from thefirst hold-up had been hidden, then he could laugh at them all.
The deputy had picked up a book. Yawning and stretching, Wentz droppedhis paper, then rising slowly walked along the corridor. He reachedGlendon's cell, paused and called, "Hello, Glen!"
The figure on the bunk turned heavily, and Glendon's bloodshot eyesglared in fury at his former comrade. He uttered no word. With apeculiar expression Wentz returned to the office.
The deputy glanced up carelessly, and resumed his reading. Wentz passedback of him and, with a swift movement, snatched the man's pistol fromthe holster that hung on his hip, and struck him a stunning blow on thehead. The deputy dropped to the floor. Tying and gagging him, Wentzsecured the keys, then ran rapidly along the corridor, unlocking thedoor of each cell until he reached Glendon's.
"Get up, Glen! Hurry!"
Already the escaping prisoners, including Alpaugh and the othertrain-robbers, were rushing past. Glendon leaped to his feet bewildered."You--"
"Don't waste time, you fool! Some one may come!" said Wentz, pullingGlendon through the door and keeping close at his heels as they reachedthe street, having stopped only to pick up guns and cartridges in theroom where the deputy, now conscious but helpless, watched theprocession of escaping prisoners.
A number of cowponies were tied to the hitching-posts in the streets, asis usual, while their owners were about town, or eating supper. Thesewere hastily mounted by the outlaws. The presence of a number ofhorsemen galloping through the streets of Tombstone was too common asight at the County seat to cause curiosity or comment. The escapingprisoners broke into small groups and left town in different directions,to avoid any suspicion.
The fugitives had another advantage in the unusual darkness, not onlybecause of the hour, but, also, of the gathering black clouds thatpresaged a storm at any moment. So, even those who might have recognizedthe men in the daytime, would be apt to pass them without a secondglance in the dim light.
When the jailer returned from supper an hour later and discovered whathad happened, a posse was formed without delay. It divided into severalparties, that all roads might be covered as soon as possible; otherwisethe darkness and approaching storm would make pursuit practicallyimpossible until morning. By that time any trail made by the horses ofthe fleeing men, would be completely obliterated, should it rain.
The band headed by the furious deputy who had been the victim of thetreachery, finally caught sight of Wentz and Glendon, who were keepingtogether; and a rapid-fire duel began between the pursuers andprisoners. The gait of the horses, the uncertain light, and theintervening rocks about the outlying district of Tombstone, all favouredthe fugitives. A bullet brought down the horse Wentz was riding, pinningthe man under it as it fell. He struggled desperately to free himself.Seeing capture was inevitable, the traitor lifted his pistol to his ownhead--and the posse saw a flash.
Glendon, in advance of Wentz, heard the shot and looked back. Thensomething struck his leg and he felt the blood oozing down into hisboot. Rather than give up now, he determined to follow Wentz' exampleand use a bullet on himself.
Ahead of him rose huge boulders, looming like gigantic tombstones. Oncehe could attain their shelter, it would be almost impossible for theposse to catch him, or to take accurate aim. The horse he was ridingresponded to the hammering of the man's heels--he had no whip or spurs.
At last he reached the shelter of the rocks and darted in circles fromone to the other, keeping them between himself and any chance bullets.By degrees, the sounds of shots died away, the voices of his pursuersceased. He knew he had outwitted them for the night; but there was notime to lose before dawn.
When he had pressed on a couple of miles, he pulled up his horse andslipped to the ground, laying his ear against the wet earth while helistened intently. But the only sound he heard was the rumble of distantthunder growing louder and louder. Back of him the sky was inky black,punctured at short intervals with zigzag streaks of dazzling light. Thestorm was already upon the town from which he had escaped.
With a sigh of relief, he examined the wound in his leg. It wassuperficial. Glendon tore a sleeve from his shirt and bandaged thewound. Then, mounting the panting horse, he doubled back on his trailfor a mile and made a cut across the mountains at a point where no onebut an Apache had ever dared to cross, except in daylight.
This trail had not been used for a long time. Glendon knew the danger ofit; but death in the mountains at the bottom of a gully, was preferableto the Yuma Penitentiary for ten years, or longer.
By morning the rain would have completely obliterated his tracks, andthe posse would, no doubt, continue their search in the direction theyhad last seen him following. He realized there was another danger. Hewas trying to reach the Circle Cross. The authorities would probablytelegraph to Willcox and a posse be started from that point to HotSprings. He must reach the Circle Cross, get clothes, food and a freshhorse before any one else could make that ranch. But first, there wassomething else to do.
His thoughts were interrupted by the storm breaking over his head. Thereverberating thunder, incessant flashes of lightning and shrieking windsounded as though all the fiends of the netherworld were keeping pacewith him, rejoicing at his escape and conspiring to aid him. Across thebackbone of the range he urged his frightened, stumbling horse. Fivemiles from the Circle Cross, Glendon halted and sat peering in alldirections when a flash illuminated the brush and trees. He had no fearof pursuers now, but he was searching for one particular tree, and itwas hard to identify in the fitful glare.
At last he found it, dismounted and tied his horse. Then from theunderbrush Glendon dragged a rusty shovel and began to dig. The groundwas soft from recent rains, but he paused frequently to wipe the beadsof perspiration that mingled with the rain dashing into his eyes.
"I didn't put it so deep," he muttered, plying the shovel more rapidly."I wonder if some one else has found it!"
A rustling in the trees caused him to straighten up suddenly and with astartled jump he glared about on all sides. The lightning showed onlythe waving branches, the pouring rain and the wind-whipped bushes.
His tongue licked his lips. "God! I wish I had a drink! My nerve's allshot to pieces!" He dug furiously. "It's lucky I caught old Paddyburying this money. That gave me a chance to get the old fool out of theway without suspicion. Even Alpaugh was in the dark about that. He's asbig a fool as the rest. Damn 'em. Why didn't they blow outThree-fingered Jack's brains before they left him there!"
S
till he dug, and the rain hammered down while the wind whistled andscreamed around him. The shovel struck a deep root of the tree.Something brushed against Glendon's face. With a scream of fright hedropped the shovel and ran to the snorting horse. Glendon's eyes staringinto the darkness pictured Paddy's sardonic face in the bushes, and backof Paddy was old Doctor King, looking at him with infinite pity.Glendon's arm went across his face as though shielding himself, and hisfoot was thrust into the stirrup of his saddle. The horse moved a fewpaces, then Glendon looked back, and jerked violently on the reins. Helifted his fist and shook it at the gloom, shouting wildly, "Damn you!You can't frighten me away! I'll have it in spite of you and Heaven andHell!"
He leaped from his saddle and grabbed the shovel, cursing as he resumedhis work until he found the canvass bags with the buried money. Unableto cram the sacks into the saddle pouches, he tore off the strings ofthe bags and poured the gold into the leather saddle pouches on eitherside of the horse. Once more he mounted, but as he faced the trail tothe Circle Cross he shouted at the nickering shadows, "Damn you! I'vegot it!" Then he rode on his way.
"It'll take four hours yet for any posse to reach the Circle Cross fromWillcox," he said, leaning low on the saddle to avoid the lash of thewind and the rain. "There'll be a big flood at Hot Springs. I'll have toleave this gold with Katherine. It's too heavy to pack and too big arisk. I'll take a couple of hours to rest and get ready. Then I can hitthe trail for the border. Easy to do after I get away from here andacross the Willcox flats. I'll take Fox. He has no brands on him. Mysaddle's at the ranch, too--That'll get rid of this horse andsaddle--They'll all be looking for this outfit now. With Fox and somemoney--I can make my way without any trouble, once I get clear of theflats. I must cross before dawn--or hide in the mountains till tomorrownight, then cross. Sixty miles to the border--then I am safe!"
A thought of his wife intruded. "I suppose she will balk at keeping thegold," he muttered, "but she will have to do it! There is no one else Ican trust with it. I won't stand any nonsense now. She'll have to dowhat I tell her, by God!"
He had no fear of Juan, knowing the Mexican's dog-like devotion toKatherine. Beside, the Mexican could not reach any place to give analarm until after Glendon was well upon his way. Katherine's exaggeratedsense of duty would keep her silent, no matter what might transpire.Everything was propitious.
His hand went back and patted the wet leather of the saddle-bags thatheld ten thousand dollars in gold, and his lips twisted in a sneer, "Youold fool, Paddy! You thought it was safe!"
The Long Dim Trail Page 37
