The Free Range

by Francis William Sullivan

  CHAPTER IX

  THE MAN IN THE MASK

  As Bud Larkin jogged along on Pinte, apparently one of the group of menwith whom he was riding, he wondered mechanically why his captors insistedon traveling ten miles to a tree sufficiently stout to bear his weight.

  "I should think they'd stand me up and do the business with a bullet," hethought.

  But a moment's reflection furnished the answer to this query. These menwere cattle-rustlers and horse-thieves, than which no more hazardousexistence ever was since the gentle days of West Indian piracy, and tothem merely a single pistol shot might mean betrayal of their whereabouts,capture and death.

  The character of the country through which they rode gave sufficientevidence of their care in all details, for it was a rough, wild,uninhabitable section that boasted, on its craggy heights and roughcoulees, barely enough vegetation to support a wild mustang.

  It was three o'clock of the afternoon and behind them the party couldstill see the place where they had camped. Joe Parker, fearful of stirringabout much until the thoughts of range-riders were turning homeward liketheir ponies' steps, had delayed the departure beyond the hour firstintended.

  The rustlers really did not want to dispose of Larkin. Being plainsmen,their acute sense of justice told them that this man was absolutelyguiltless of any crime deserving of death. Untoward circumstances hadforced him into their hands, and, like the boy with the fly-paper, theywere unable to get rid of him peaceably. Their abuse of his insane follywas colorful and vivid.

  But Larkin had reasons for his stubborn attitude. With the arrogance ofyouth and the inexperience of real danger, he had resolved that as soon ashis sheep should be safely up the range he would devote some time, money,and effort to the running down of these rustlers. Some of their faces wereunforgetably stamped on his memory now, and he had no doubt that he couldbe of great service to Wyoming Territory, which was just at this timepetitioning for the dignity of Statehood.

  He had known the losses and insolence of rustlers on his own sheep ranchin Montana, and, like every sympathizer with justice and order, had swornto himself many times that all of them should be run to earth.

  The longer Bud remained with the rustlers the more nervous some of thembecame. Since morning a number had been wearing masks made of theirneckerchiefs, and one man had not shown his face since the moment he rodeinto camp after the all-night drive. This man's peculiar actions piquedBud's curiosity, and he tried a number of times to draw him intoconversation. But the rustler refused to speak and moved away whenever hefound himself in the prisoner's vicinity.

  About five o'clock the cavalcade arrived at a point where, ahead of them,through the barren buttes and hogbacks, they could see the long, levelexpanse of the range; and, about half-way to the horizon, a line of treesthat indicated the snake-like progress of a river. Here Joe called a haltand gave orders that the party should lie concealed until after dark, asthe remainder of their business could then be conducted with less dangerto themselves.

  Accordingly the horsemen turned away from the trail they had beenfollowing and after fifteen minutes of tortuous riding, made camp on theother side of a particularly uninviting wall of rock.

  After eating supper prepared around the little fires Larkin saw therustlers all gather into a circle and start drawing lots. He shivered alittle at the thought that this was his execution party being made up.

  Four men had been designated as the number to see Larkin off on his longjourney, and when at last the drawing was finished it was found that JoeParker, the masked rider, and two others had been selected.

  As darkness drew on Parker began to lose his patience with Bud.

  "Look-a-here, Larkin," he drawled, "I don't love no sheepmen, noways, an'I never did, but you ain't no ordinary 'walker' an' I ain't ashamed totalk with y'u. Now the boys want to meet y'u half-way on this business,an' you won't do it. All you got to say is that you won't appear agin anyof us in any court, an' won't ever say anythin' agin any of us. Now whatin blazes you're actin' like a mule balkin' at a shadder for, I dunno. Besensible."

  But to all such entreaties Larkin remained unmoved.

  "If you hang me," he said, "you'll only hang yourselves, for all thesheepmen in Wyoming as well as the men from my own ranch will come downhere, join with the cattlemen, and clean you fellows out. And if my Basqueherders start in on you don't imagine you will have the luxury of hanging.They'll take their skinning knives and work from the neck down. No, I'dadvise you to let me go and take your chances rather than kill me andwait."

  Such talk as this made a great impression on some of the rustlers andagain opened up the subject of letting Larkin off. But the majority heldfirm and the sentence stood.

  It was perhaps eight o'clock when the party of four approached Larkin androused him up. This time his hands were bound behind his back and henoticed that the masked rustler was fastening them tightly but with arotten rawhide. This peculiar circumstance caused a wild thrill to flashall through Larkin's being. Perhaps, after all, here was the weak link inthe rustler's chain. The surmise became a certainty when the man,unobserved by his companions, sawed Bud's arms back and forth, showing himthe quickest and easiest way to work them loose.

  Then came the greatest surprise of all. The man, who had spoken no wordthe whole time, thrust a heavy .45 revolver into his trouser-pocket. Topermit this being done the eight-inch barrel had been sawed off fiveinches short, ruining the gun for ordinary use, but making it particularlyhandy and light for close work.

  This action convinced Larkin that the man in the mask was not only willingthat he should escape, but was actually determined that the event shouldoccur. He also knew that he could count on the support of this ally in thefinal moment when the four men must fight it out two and two.

  Whether this sudden change of aspect was the result of a determination bya minority of the rustlers not to let the execution take place, or whetherby some miraculous means one of his own friends had succeeded in joiningthe organization, he could not determine, although he tried to sound theman in the mask when the others were busy with their horses. His onlyreply was a low hiss commanding silence.

  A quarter past the hour found them on their way, the ponies picking theirpath gingerly over the bad ground until they reached the range. Here thethree rustlers drew up short, for in the distance could be seen thetwinkling of a camp-fire.

  "One of the Bar T punchers," said Joe; "but I reckon he won't hear us."

  For half a mile further they walked their horses, and then urged them to atrot in the direction of the river whose tree-lined banks they had seenlate in the afternoon. They paused only once in this place, and then tocross a small stream that lay in their path.

  As he rode Larkin worked his arms cautiously back and forth until he feltthe rotten rawhide give, and knew that a single violent motion would freehim entirely. But he refrained from making that motion, feeling certainthat the man in the mask would give the signal when the time was ripe.

  At last they discerned the loom of the trees against the low northern skyand pulled their horses to a walk, until they arrived directly underneatha big cottonwood, which stood in sinister readiness.

  "Here's your last chance," said Parker in a low voice. "If you swear as wehave told you, you can go free now. We take a man's word out here."

  "Never," replied Larkin firmly. "Don't waste time talking."

  "Shore not," rejoined the other. "We always grant a man's last request.Come on, boys, let's finish this thing quick."

  He had hardly spoken when from the distance came the sound of rapidrevolver firing, mingled with the wild shouts of men. For a few momentsthe drama beneath the cottonwood came to an abrupt halt.

  "By gum!" cried Joe, "the Bar T punchers have found the boys and there'sthe devil to pay back there. Lively, now."

  One of the others took his lariat from the throng at the side of hissaddle and heaved the coil over an outstretched limb of the cottonwood. Hehad hardly done so when another sound reach
ed them, a low, menacing rumblethat grew momentarily louder until it reached a dull roar.

  "A stampede!" bawled one of the men; "and it's heading this way."

  Joe and the man in the mask still on their horses led Pinte directlybeneath the limb of the cottonwood, and the former reached down to takethe noose of the rope from the one who had arranged it. Suddenly Larkinfelt a hand fumbling with the rawhide about his arms, and a low voice inhis ear whispered: "Now."

  With the same motion Bud wrenched his hands free and dug his spurs intothe sides of his horse. Pinte, startled, leaped forward just as Larkindrew the revolver from his pocket.

  Joe, though caught by surprise, did not let go of the bridle that waswound about his right hand, but a blinding shot from the gun of the man inthe mask did the work. With a groan Parker pitched forward out of hissaddle and fell to the ground just as Larkin fired pointblank at the thirdman who appeared before him, still on foot.

  The fellow went down, but not until a yellow stab of light flashed up fromwhere he had been and Bud felt the wind of a bullet as it sped past hischeek. The fourth man was nowhere to be seen.

  The stranger in the mask and the man he had rescued were now alone, buttheir thoughts were fully occupied. The sound of the distant stampede hadbecome a veritable rumbling roar that told of its nearing proximity. Asidefrom this drumming of many feet, there was no sound, for the animals ofthe range when in the grip of panic are silent.

  With glazed eyes and muscles strained to the utmost they thundered intothe dark, unconscious and heedless of the sure destruction in their path.It was as though thousands of creatures, with their brains removed, hadbeen turned loose to run at will.

  "To the river!" cried the masked man, suddenly panic-stricken, spurringhis horse in the direction of the stream.

  But Larkin was at his heels, and in a moment had seized the other's bridleand thrown the horse back on his haunches.

  "No!" bawled he at the top of his voice. "The bank here is twenty feethigh, and at the bottom are rocks."

  "Better a jump and a chance than sure death in the stampede," yelled thestranger, but Bud would not yield and drew the horse back.

  "We can divide the herd," he cried. "Come, we haven't a moment to lose!"

  They wheeled as one and dashed out of the brush into the open of therange. The earth was now trembling beneath them and the pounding feetsounded a low, steady note, ominous with warning. Occasionally there was arevolver shot, but this was the only other sound.

  Straight toward the oncoming living avalanche the two men rode until theyhad left an open space a hundred yards wide behind them. Then they pulledup short and dismounted.

  Now out of the threatening thunder sounded a single individual note, therapid beating of a horse's feet--some horse that was bearing a desperaterider ahead of the stampede but powerless to avoid it.

  Instantly Larkin saw the picture of the yawning precipice toward which thefrantic rider was hurrying at breakneck speed. He raised his revolver andfired into the air. The signal was instantly acted on, for in anothermoment a lathering, heaving pony dashed up to them, and the rider leapedto the ground.

  "Oh, what shall I do? Hello! Who are you?" cried a female voice, andLarkin's heart leaped as though it had turned over in its place.

  "Juliet!" he cried, seizing the girl with one arm and drawing her close.

  "Bud!" For an instant she clung to him.

  "Lead the horses together and shoot them!" he ordered, although the otherscould scarcely hear him.

  Every instant was priceless now, for dimly at the edge of their vision thefront wave of the living, leaping tide could be seen.

  Larkin swung the girl's horse alongside Pinte, and without a thought or apang shot them both. They fell one on top of the other. Then the strangerin the mask led his animal in front of the two that had fallen and put abullet through its brain. All now leaped behind this still throbbingbarricade.

  "Got a gun, Julie?" demanded Bud.

  "Yes."

  "Give it to me and load mine from your belt." They exchanged weapons andthe girl with practiced hand slipped the cartridges into their chambers.The unknown had drawn two guns from some place in his equipment, and nowthe three peered over their shelter.

  The advance line of animals was scarcely twenty-five yards away, and, witha clutch of horror at his heart, Bud recognized that they were not cattleas he had supposed, but sheep--his own two thousand.

  In the instant that remained he remembered the shots and shouting of aquarter-hour before, and realized that the animals had been stampededdeliberately.

  "Let 'er go," he screamed above the tumult, "and yell like blazes!"

  On the word yellow fire streamed out from the four guns and, accompanyingit, a perfect bedlam of shrieks and cries. The sheep were now upon them,and the hail of bullets dropped some in their headlong career, pilingthem up against the horses and adding to the barricade. But it could notstop all, and a stream of the animals made its way over the bodies up tothe very mouths of the spitting guns.

  Now others stumbled and fell, to be instantly engulfed by the swirlingflood behind; small, sharp feet were caught between the limbs of thestruggling mass that eddied about the dead horses. Still the yellow firestabbed out into the faces of the middlers--for now the leaders werealready piling up mangled and dying in the rocky river-bed--but, past eachside of this island of expiring creatures, thundered a vast, heavingstream, turbulent, silent, irrevocable.

  The man in the mask with a revolver in each hand was firing steadily, andLarkin, thrilled at the sight of his apparent coolness, turned to look athim.

  To his amazement he found that the mask had fallen or been snatched away.Again the man fired, and Bud Larkin's jaw fell as he gazed on the queer,unmistakable features of the man who had saved his life that night.

  It was Smithy Caldwell.

  The sheep mind has the power of tenacity, but not that of change. Therewas scarcely a shot left in the guns, and still the fear-blinded animalsbattered at the growing wall of dead and dying that divided them. But atlast they began to push to each side, and gradually the idea of splittingtook full hold.

  Then the prisoners behind the dead horses sank down in almost hystericalrelief, for there was no danger that any more would attempt to mount thebarricade. In fact, had the obstacle to their progress been suddenlyremoved, the stampeded herds would have continued to split for anindefinite period.

  Now, listening, Larkin could hear the crash of the animals through theunderbrush and the horrid, sickening sounds of the writhing, half-deadmass in the river-bed as more and more, following their predecessorsblindly, took the leap.

  At last the stream on each side thinned, the rumbling thunder of poundingfeet grew less, and the tail of the flock passed, leaving behind it asudden, deathly silence. In the distance a faint murmur was heard, andLarkin found later that this was made by the two or three hundred whichescaped death in the river.

  As a matter of fact, the great number of the animals had filled the narrowgully, and the last few charged across the bodies of their fallencomrades to solid ground and safety beyond.

  Now that the danger had passed, Larkin felt a certain miserable nausea inthe pit of his stomach, and fought it down with all his might. Caldwellwas not so successful, however, and stumbled from the shelter and hiscompanions, furiously sick. Juliet began to weep softly, the tears ofnervous reaction coming freely when neither pain nor fear could havebrought them.

  Bud passed his arm gently about her shoulders, and patted her with softencouragement and praise for her bravery. Nor did the girl resent hisaction. Rather it seemed to steady her, and after a few minutes she lookedup with an unsteady laugh.

  "Isn't it funny for that other man to get seasick out here where we can'tget enough water to drink?" she asked, with a sudden tangent of humor thatmade Bud laugh uproariously, and seemed to relieve the strain thatoppressed them.

  "Brave little girl!" he said, getting up. "That reminds me. I wonder whereour friend is?" />
  He walked out in the direction Caldwell had taken and expected to find theother recovering from his attack. But he could see or hear nothing toindicate that the man was within a dozen miles. He called, and his voicesounded puny and hollow against the vastness of the sky. He heard no hailsin answer, except the long, shrill one which the coyotes gave from aneighboring rise of ground.

  Smithy Caldwell had disappeared.

  Larkin returned to Juliet Bissell perplexed, mystified, and disturbed.What possible reason could there be for the quixotic actions of the man hehated more than any other in the world? How did he happen to be receivedand at perfect ease among a band of desperate rustlers?

  How and why? Caldwell presented so many variations on those two themesthat Larkin's head fairly swam, and he turned gladly to relieve thesituation in which Juliet Bissell now found herself.