CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Limber, who had been across the Galiuros riding the Sulphur SpringsValley for a couple of days, decided to go home by the way of Willcoxinstead of cutting over the mountain trail, as he was anxious to hearfrom Doctor Powell to whom he had written about the hold-up and trial.Powell was in New York intending to sail for Europe within a few days.
As the cowboy came out of the Chinese restaurant, after having eatensupper, Jack Green, the station agent, hailed him.
"Hello, Limber! There's been a telegram at the office two days for you,but I hadn't any chance to send it out your way. I guess it'll be likethe Irishman's letter, for it was to let you know that the doctor wascoming. He arrived this afternoon, and I told him."
"Is he here?" asked Limber eagerly.
"No. He got a horse at the corral and went right out to Hot Springs.Said he wanted to see you as soon as possible."
"Sorry I missed him. I came in thinkin' I'd hear from him. So I'll getout as soon as Peanut's had a couple hours' rest."
They walked across the street together. As Green opened the door of thestation, he heard the telegraph instrument calling insistently.
"Just a minute, till I take this call," he said, seating himself at thetable. As the message began coming in rapidly, Green's face wasstartled. He jumped up as he closed the message, turning to Limber.
"The whole bunch of train-robbers and all the other prisoners in theTombstone jail are loose. Wentz did it. They want a posse to start atonce for Hot Springs."
He and Limber started rapidly. "They think Glendon will try to reach theCircle Cross, and probably others will be with him. I've got to see theconstable and Judge at once."
Green darted down the street. Limber hurried to the Cowboy's Rest andsaddled Peanut.
"Goin' to be a big storm," said Buckboard. "Why don't you lay over tillmornin', Limber?"
"I been at the Diamond H," Limber replied as he slipped the headstallover Peanut's ears. "I missed Doctor Powell and want to get out to theranch tonight."
He led his pony from the stall as he spoke.
"Wait a minute and I'll lend you a slicker," offered Buckboard,disappearing in his sleeping quarters and returning with the unwieldy,yellow, water-proof coat.
"Won't you need it, yourself?"
"I got another in the bunkhouse. You can send it back when it's handy."
Limber thanked him and tied it across the back of his saddle, glancingup at the threatening sky. "Guess I'll need it before long," he said,riding to the gate. "Much obliged. So long!"
He turned Peanut's head to the Point of the Mountains, northwest oftown, passing the O T ranch five miles out. Then he struck the road toHot Springs, which lay thirty-five miles north of Willcox on a road thatwas totally invisible, now. Limber did not hesitate to urge his ponyinto a swift gallop, for he knew he could rely on Peanut's wonderfulinstinct to carry his rider safely.
"If we kin reach the Springs before Glendon does," the cowboy spoke tohis pony, and the tapering ears went back at the sound of the voicePeanut knew and loved, "We kin warn Glen the posse's comin' so's he kingit away in time. She'd had enough troubles without being thar to seehim get killed or kill somebody else, Peanut. Thar's goin' to beshootin' if they find Glen!"
Steadily the pony swung along, and the storm beat down on themmercilessly. The constant flashes of lightning revealed a stream ofrunning water where the road bed, worn deeply by wagon wheels and hoofsof teams, left a high ridge in the centre. Peanut, with goat-likeagility kept on the top of this ridge. It was the only solid groundvisible. All else was a swamp.
The road had never seemed so long to Limber as when at last, the ponyslipped down into the mouth of the Hot Springs Canon.
"Seven miles more, Peanut!"
It was the only way to reach the Springs or Circle Cross. During the dryseason, there was no water in the bed of the creek, as the Hot SpringsCreek seeped into the ground a short distance from the ranch house, andthe little stream was usually only two or three feet wide and a fewinches deep. Owing to the immense watershed of the canyon, a rain ofshort duration often made crossing impossible. The banks of the creekrose fifteen feet, or more, perpendicularly from constant floods, andoften these banks were over-running.
This knowledge was the basis of Limber's hope as well as his anxiety. Ifhe could cross the creek before the flood, that very thing might provean obstacle to the posse, and give Glendon a chance to get a good start.If the flood was ahead of him, the cowboy knew he would have to wait andlose any opportunity of seeing Glendon first. Then the other men wouldbe there with him.
He listened intently. As the sound he feared--a smothered roar--reachedhis ears, he leaned forward in his saddle, and Peanut started with asnort at the unusual touch of the sharp spurs.
It was a race for life now. Limber knew he must reach the one spot inthe canyon where his pony could scramble up the sheer embankment to theupper road before the flood could catch them. Stumbling, panting, thepony tore over the rocks and fallen trees that had been washed down inprevious floods, and crashed among dead limbs in the darkness. Peanutfell heavily to his knees, but struggled up instantly, while Limberspurred and called, "Yip! Yip! Yip! Peanut! Go on, you rascal!"
The pony's ears were flattened back. He knew the danger, now. The noiseof approaching water grew louder. Watching for the next flash oflightning, Limber's eyes measured the distance between himself and thepoint where the road struck sharply up the steep incline that led tosafety. With the same glance, he saw the wall of seething water tumblingclose to the crossing. Could they reach it in time?
The sounds became a deafening roar, and Peanut flagged. Limber leanedover his shoulder and spoke to him, and at the sound of the loved voice,the little pony made another effort. With a convulsive leap he reachedthe slope of the road and scrambled wildly to safety, then stopped withlow drooping head and quivering limbs. Limber jumped from the saddle andwent to the pony's head, putting his arm over the rain-soaked neck, thecowboy stroked the mane and forelock. They could rest now. No livingthing could cross that canyon until the storm ceased and the floodsubsided.
As the lightning flashed, Limber watched the flood sweep below, carryinggreat cottonwood trees like straws, and over-turning immense boulders asif they were marbles.
Man and pony had ridden against Death that night, and Peanut had won therace.
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