CHAPTER XXX: ON THE EDGE OF THE CLIFF
For a moment both men suspected that what they looked upon was amirage--its actual existence there in that place seemed impossible.Yet there was no disputing the fact, that yonder in the very midst ofthat desolation of sand, a wagon drawn by straining horses was slowlymoving directly toward them. Westcott was first to grasp the truth,hastily jerking the marshal back to where the tired ponies stood withdrooping heads behind the protection of the dune.
"It's the same outfit coming back," he explained. "The Sunken Valleymust be out there--just a hole in the surface of the desert--and that'show that wagon popped up out of the earth the way it did. I couldn'tbelieve my eyes."
"Nor me neither," and the marshal drew one of his guns, and held itdangling in his hand. "I'm a bit flustered yet, but I reckon that'sabout the truth. Get them ponies round a bit more, an' we'll wait andsee what's behind that canvas."
The distance must have been farther than it seemed, or else thetravelling difficult, for it was some time before the heavy wagon andstraining team drew near enough for the two watchers to determinedefinitely the character of the outfit. Westcott lay outstretched onthe far side of the dune, his hat beside him, and his eyes barely ableto peer over the summit, ready to report observations to the marshalcrouched below.
"It's Moore's team, all right," he whispered back, "and Matt is drivingthem. There isn't any one else on the seat, so I guess he must bealone."
"We can't be sure of that," returned Brennan, wise in guarding againstsurprises. "There was another fellow with him on the out trip, and hemight be lying down back in the wagon. We'd better both of us hold 'emup. I can hear the creak of the wheels now, so maybe you best slidedown. Is the outfit loaded?"
"Travelling light, I should say," and Westcott, after one more glance,crept down the sand-heap and joined the waiting man below. Both stoodintent and ready, revolvers drawn, listening. The heavy wheels gratedin the sand, the driver whistling to while away the dreary pull and thehorses breathing heavily. Moore pulled them up with a jerk, as twofigures leaped into view, his whistle coming to an abrupt pause.
"Hell's fire!" was all he said, staring dumbly down into Brennan's faceover the front wheel. "Where in Sam Hill did you come from?"
"I'm the one to ask questions, son," returned the little marshal, thevicious blue barrel shining in the sunlight, "and the smarter youanswer, the less reason I shall have to hurt yer. Don't reach for thatgun! Are you travelling alone?"
Moore nodded, his hands up, but still grasping the reins.
"Then climb down over the wheel. Jim, take a look under that canvas;Moore, here, is generally a genial sort o' liar, and we'd better besure. All right--hey? Then dismount, Matt, and be quick about it.Now unbuckle that belt, and hand the whole outfit over to Westcott;then we'll talk business together."
He shoved his own weapon back into its holster, and faced the prisoner,who had recovered from his first shock of surprise, and whosepugnacious temper was beginning to assert itself. Brennan read this inthe man's sulky, defiant glance, and his lips smiled grimly.
"Getting bullish, are you, Matt?" he said, rather softly. "Goin' terkeep a close tongue in your head; so that's the game? Well, Iwouldn't, son, if I was you. Now, see here, Moore," and the voiceperceptibly hardened, and the marshal's eyes were like flints. "Youknow me, I reckon, an' that I ain't much on boys' play. You neverheard tell o' my hittin' anybody just fer fun, did yer?"
There was no answer.
"An' yer never heard no one say," went on Brennan, "that I was afraidter hit when I needed to. I reckon also yer know what sorter man JimWestcott is. Now the two ov us ain't out here in this damned Shoshonedesert fer the fun of it--not by a jugful. Get that fact into yerhead, son, an' maybe it'll bring yer some sense. Do yer get me?"
"Yes," sullenly and reluctantly. "But yer haven't got nuthin' on me."
"Oh, haven't I? Well, you shut up like a clam, and find out what I'vegot. You drove a young woman out here from Haskell night afore last,for Bill Lacy. Ain't abduction no crime? An' that's only one count.I've had an eye on you for more'n six months, an' Lacy's been makin' adamn cat's-paw out of you all that time. Well, Lacy is playin' hislast hand right now, an' I've got the cards." The marshal paused,fully aware that he had struck home, then added quietly: "It allersstruck me, Matt, that naturally you was a pretty decent fellow, but haddrifted in with a bad crowd. I'm offering you now a chance to getstraight again." He threw back his coat and exhibited his star. "Yersee, I ain't just talkin' ter yer as Dan Brennan--I'm the law."
The boy, for he was scarcely more than that in years, shuffled his feetuneasily, and his eyes wandered from Brennan to Westcott. The look ofsullen defiance had vanished.
"Whar is Lacy?" he asked.
"Back in town, but he will be at Badger Springs about dark. We've gothim corralled this time. Yer better climb inter the band-wagon, son;it's the last call."
"Wotcher wanter ask?"
"Who was with you the out-trip, along with Miss Donovan?"
"Joe Sikes."
"And yer left him back there, guarding the girl?"
"He stayed; them was the orders, while I was to bring back the team;but I reckon he won't need to do no guardin' to speak of, fer we runinter a bunch o' fellows."
"Mendez's outfit?"
"You got the right dope, marshal, so I reckon I ain't spillin' nobeans. It was the Mex all right, an' some o' his bunch."
"And Lacy didn't know they were there?"
"I reckon not; leastways he never said so, an' they'd only come a fewdays."
"How many are they?"
"Maybe a dozen; I don't just know. I saw eight, or ten, round thebunk-house, besides ol' Mendez an' that dude lieutenant of his, JuanCateras. I ain't got no use fer that duck; I allers did want ter soakhim. Then ther' was others out with the cow herd."
"They had a bunch o' cattle?"
"Maybe three hundred head, run in from Arizona. I heard that much, butI don't talk their lingo."
"What was done with the young lady?"
Moore spat vindictively into the sand, digging a hole with his heel.He had talked already more than he intended, but what was thedifference?
"Cateras took her," he admitted, "but I don't know whar. I ratherliked that girl; she's got a hell ov a lot o' sand, an' never put up awhimper. I tried ter find out whar she was, but nobody'd tell me.Then I had ter pull out."
Westcott interjected a question.
"Did you learn if there was any other prisoner there?"
"Not that I heard of. Who do yer mean?"
"A man named Cavendish."
"No, I reckon not." He turned back to the marshal.
"What are you guys goin' ter do with me?"
"That depends, Matt. When a lad is straight with me, I generally playsquare with him. All this took place in Sunken Valley?"
"Yep; whar'd you hear it called that?"
"Oh, I know more'n some ov you boys think I do. That name's beenfloatin' 'bout fer some time. I've even got the spot located--it'sstraight south thar a ways. But you've been in it, an' I never have.Here's whar you can serve the law, an' so get out of yer own trouble ifyer so minded. It don't make a hell ov a lot o' difference to mewhether yer speak up or not, but it's liable to ter you. What do yersay?"
"Fire away; I reckon I'm up against it anyhow."
"What's the valley like, an' how do you get into it?"
"Well, I'd say it was just a sort o' sink in the desert, a kinderfreak. Anyhow, I never saw nuthin' like it afore. You'd never know itwas thar a hundred yards away; it kinder scares me sometimes when Icome up to it thro' all this sand. The walls is solid rock, almoststraight up an' down, but thar's a considerable stream flowin' downthar that just bursts out a hole in the rock, an' plenty o' grass ferquite a bunch of steers."
"How do they get down into it?"
"'Long a windin' trail on the west side. It used to be mighty rough, Ireckon, an' only good
fer hikers, but they fixed it up so they candrive cattle down, an' even a wagon if yer take it easy."
"Mendez fixed it?"
"No; I heerd that Bill Lacy sorter handled that job. The Mex can't donuthin' but steal."
"Then Lacy is the go-between? He sells the cattle?"
"Sure; I s'posed yer knew that. He ships them east from BoltonJunction, an' pretends they come from his ranch over on Clear Water.The Mexicans drive 'em in that way, an' they're all branded 'fore theyleave the valley. It's a cinch."
The marshal's eyes brightened; he was gaining the information he mostdesired.
"And there is no other way to the bottom except along this trail?"
"That's 'bout all."
"Well, could Jim and I make it--say after dark?"
Moore laughed, the reckless boy in him again uppermost.
"Mebbe so; but I reckon ye'd be dead when yer got thar. Thar's allerstwo Mexes on guard when Mendez is in the valley. He ain't takin' nochances o' gettin' caught that way."
"Where are they?"
"Just below the top, whar they kin see out over the desert. Hell, yercouldn't get within half a mile an' not be spotted. It's bull luck yerrun inter me."
Brennan and Westcott looked at each other, both uncertain as to thenext step. What were they to do with their prisoner? And how couldthey proceed toward effecting the rescue of the helpless girl? It wasa problem not easy to solve, if what Moore told them was true. Thelatter shuffled his feet in the sand, lifted his eyes shrewdly, andstudied the faces of his captors. He was figuring his own chance.
"You fellows want ter get down inter the valley?" he asked at last.
"Yes," and Brennan turned again quickly, "if it can be done. Of coursethar's only two of us, an' it would be sort o' foolish tryin' ter fighta way through, even ag'in' Mexicans. Fifteen ter two is some odds, but'tain't in my nature, or Jim's here, ter turn round an' leave that girlin the hands o' them cusses--is it, Jim?"
"I never will," replied Westcott earnestly. "Not if I have to tacklethe whole outfit alone."
"You won't never have to do that. What's the idea, Moore?"
"Oh, I was just thinkin'," he answered, still uncertain. "She's a goodfellow, all right, an' I wouldn't mind givin' her a hand myself,pervidin' you men do the square thing. If I show yer a way, what isthar in it fer me?"
Brennan stiffened, his features expressing nothing.
"What do yer mean? I'm an officer o' the law?"
"I know it; I ain't asking yer ter make no promise. But yer word willgo a hell ov a ways if this ever gets in court.
"If I help yer I've got ter be protected frum Bill Lacy. He'd kill meas quick as he'd look at me. Then I'd want yer ter tell the judge howit all happened. If yer got the cards stacked, an' I reckon yer have,I ain't big enough fool to try an' play no hand against 'em. But Iwant ter know what's goin' ter happen ter me. You don't need terpromise nuthin'; only say yer'll give me a show. I know ye're square,Dan Brennan, an' whatever yer say goes."
The marshal stuck out his hand.
"That's the gospel truth, Matt," he said gravely, "an' I'm with yertill the cows come home. What is it you know?"
"Well," with a quick breath as he took the plunge, "it's like this,marshal; there is just one place out yonder," and he waved his hand toindicate the direction, "on the east rim o' the valley, where yer mightget down. Ye'd have ter hang on, tooth an' toe-nail; but both of yerare mountain men, an' I reckon yer could make the trip if yer took itcareful an' slow like. Leastwise that's the one chance, an' I don'tbelieve thar's another white critter who even knows thar is such atrail."
"Have you ever been down?"
"Wunst, an' that was enough fer me," he confessed, drawling his words."Yer see it was this a-way. One time I was out there in that hell holeplum' alone fer a whole week, just a waitin' fer Mendez ter show up soI could ride into Haskell and tell Lacy he'd come. It was so damnlonesome I explored every nook an' cranny between them rocks, an' oneday, lyin' out in front o' ther bunk-house, I happened to trace thisol' trail. I got a notion to give it a trial, an' I did that sameafternoon. I got down all right, but it was no place fer a lady,believe me, an' I reckon no white man ever made it afore."
"It had been used once?"
"There was some signs made me think so; Injuns, I reckon, an' a longwhile ago."
Westcott asked: "How can we get there safely? Can you guide us?"
Moore swept his eyes over the dull range of sand, expectoratedthoughtfully, and rammed his hands deep into his trouser-pockets. Hewas slow about answering, but the two men waited motionless.
"If it was me," he said finally. "I'd take it on foot. It'll be ajaunt ov near on to three miles, unless yer want ter risk bein' seen bythem Mexes on the main trail. You couldn't go straight, but would haveter circle out an' travel mostly behind that ridge o' sand thar to theleft. Goin' that a-way nobody's likely ter get sight o' yer on foot.You couldn't take no hoss, though. Here'd be my plan; lead this yereoutfit o' mine an' your ponies back inter them sand dunes whar nobodyever goes. They're tired 'nough ter stand, an' there ain't anythingfer 'em to graze on. Then we kin hoof it over ter the place I'mtellin' yer about, an' yer kin sorter size it up fer yerselves. That'sfair, ain't it?"
They went at it with a will, glad to have something clearly definedbefore them, Brennan in his slow, efficient way, but Westcott, eagerand hopeful, spurred on by his memory of the girl, whose rescue was thesole object which had brought him there. The team was driven into thesecurity of the sand drifts and unhitched. The saddles were taken fromthe backs of the ponies, and what grain Moore had in the wagon wascarefully apportioned among the four animals. Satisfied these wouldnot stray, the men looked carefully to their supply of ammunition andset forth on their tramp.
This proved a harder journey than either Brennan or Westcott hadanticipated, for Moore led off briskly, taking a wide circle, until aconsiderable ridge concealed their movements from the south. The sandwas loose, and in places they sank deeply, their feet sliding back andretarding progress. All three were breathing heavily from the exertionwhen, under protection of the ridge, they found better walking.
Even here, however, the way was treacherous and deceiving, yet theypressed forward steadily, following the twists and turns of the pile ofsand on their right. The distance seemed more than three miles, but atlast Moore turned sharply and plunged into what resembled a narrowravine through the ridge. Here they struggled knee deep in the sand,but finally emerged on the very rim overlooking the valley.
So perfectly was it concealed they were within ten feet of the edgebefore the men, their heads bent in the strenuous effort to advance,even realised its immediate presence. They halted instantly,awestruck, and startled into silence by the wonder of that sceneoutspread below. Moore grinned as he noted the surprise depicted ontheir faces, and waved his hand.
"Yer better lie down an' crawl up ter the edge," he advised. "Somehole, ain't it?"
"I should say so," and Westcott dropped to his knees. "I never dreamedof such a place. Why it looks like a glimpse into heaven from thissand. Dan, ain't this an eye-opener?"
"It sure is," and the marshal crept cautiously forward. "Only it'sdevils who've got possession. Look at them cattle up at the furtherend; they don't look no bigger than sheep, but there's quite a bunch of'em. What's that down below, Matt? Houses, by Jingo! Well, don'tthat beat hell?--all the comforts of home."
"Two big cabins," explained Moore, rather proud of his knowledge."Carted the logs in from ol' Baldy, more'n forty miles. One is thebunk-house; the other is whar Mendez stops when the ol' cuss is yere.Creep up a bit an' I'll show yer how the trail runs. Don't be afeerd;nobody kin see yer from down below."
"All right, son, where is it?"
"It starts at the foot o' that boulder," indicating with his finger,"an' goes along the shelf clear to the end; then thar's a drop ov maybefive feet to that outcroppin' o' rock just below. It's wider than itlooks to be from yere. Aft
er that yer can trace it quite a spell withyer eyes, kinder sidlin' ter the left, till yer come to that dead rootov a cedar. Then thar's a gap or two that ain't over easy, an' a slidedown ter another shelf. Yer can't miss it, cause there's no other wayter go."
"And what's at the bottom?"
"Them huts, an' the mouth of a damn big cave just behind 'em. I reckonit's in the cave they've got the gal; there's places there they kinshut up, but I don't know what they was ever made fer. I asked Lacywunst, but he only laughed."
The two men lay flat, staring down. It was almost a sheer wall, andthe very thought of climbing along the almost impassable path pointedout by Moore made Westcott dizzy. He had clambered along the raggedcrags of many a mountain in search for gold, but the necessity offinding blindly in the dark that obscure and perilous passage broughtwith it a sensation of horror which he had to fight in order toconquer. It was such a sheer, precipitous drop, a path--if path itcould be called--so thickly studded with danger the mind actuallyrecoiled in contemplation.
"You have really been down there, Moore?" he questioned, halfunbelieving.
"Oh, I made it all right," boastfully. "But it's no picnic. I'd hatelike hell to risk it at night, but that's the only chance you fellowswill have to git down. It would be like trap-shootin' for them Mexesif you tried it now."
They lay there for some time talking to each other, and staring down atthe strange scene so far beneath them, and which appeared almost like apainted picture within its dark frame of towering rocks and wideexpanse of sand. Except for the rather restless herd of cattle therewas little movement perceptible--a herder or two could be distinguishedriding here and there on some duty; there was a small horse corral ashort distance to their right, with something like a dozen poniesconfined within, and a bunch of saddles piled outside the fence. Oncea man came out of the bunk-house and went down to the stream for abucket of water, returning leisurely. He wore the braided jacket andhigh, wide-brimmed hat of the Mexican peon, and spurs glittered on hisboot-heels. Beyond this the cabins below gave no sign of occupancy.Moore pointed out to them the main trail leading across the valley andwinding up along the front of the opposite wall. They could trace it alarge part of the way, but it disappeared entirely as it approached thesummit.
The three men, wearied with looking, and knowing there was nothing moreto do, except wait for night, crept back into the sand hollow andnibbled away at the few eatables brought with them in their pockets.Brennan alone seemed cheerful and talkative--Moore had liberallydivided with him his stock of chewing-tobacco.
The Strange Case of Cavendish Page 30
