CHAPTER XVI
THE END OF THE TRAIL
The rain slanted down in sheets and the broken plain, thoroughlysaturated, held the water in pools or sent it down the steep sides ofthe arroyo, to feed the turbulent flood which swept along the bottom,foam-flecked and covered with swiftly moving driftwood. Around a bendin the arroyo, where the angry water flung itself against the raggedbulwark of rock and flashed away in a gleaming line of foam, a horsemanappeared bending low in the saddle for better protection againstthe storm. He rode along the edge of the stream on the farther bank,opposite the steep bluff on the northern side, forcing his wounded andjaded horse to keep fetlock deep in the water which swirled and suckedabout its legs. He was trying his hardest to hide his trail. Lower downthe hard, rocky ground extended to the water's edge, and if he coulddelay his pursuers for an hour or so, he felt that, even with his tiredhorse, he would have more than an even chance.
But they had gained more than he knew. Suddenly above him on the top ofthe steep bluff across the torrent a man loomed up against the clouds,peered intently into the arroyo, and then waved his sombrero to anunseen companion. A puff of smoke flashed from his shoulder and streakedaway, the report of the shot lost in the gale. The fugitive's horsereared and plunged into the deep water and with its rider was sweptrapidly towards the bend, the way they had come.
"That makes the fourth time I've missed that coyote!" angrily exclaimedHopalong as Red Connors joined him.
The other quickly raised his rifle and fired; and the horse, spillingits rider out of the saddle, floated away tail first. The fugitive,gripping his rifle, bobbed and whirled at the whim of the greedy wateras shots struck near him. Making a desperate effort, he staggered up thebank and fell exhausted behind a boulder.
"Well, the coyote is afoot, anyhow," said Red, with great satisfaction.
"Yes; but how are we going to get to him?" asked Hopalong. "We can't getthe cayuses down here, an' we can't swim _that_ water without them. An'if we could, he'd pot us easy."
"There's a way out of it somewhere," Red replied, disappearing over theedge of the bluff to gamble with Fate.
"Hey! Come back here, you chump!" cried Hopalong, running forward."He'll get you, shore!"
"That's a chance I've got to take if I get him," was the reply.
A puff of smoke sailed from behind the boulder on the other bank andHopalong, kneeling for steadier aim, fired and then followed his friend.Red was downstream casting at a rock across the torrent but the windtoyed with the heavy, water-soaked _reata_ as though it were a string.As Hopalong reached his side a piece of driftwood ducked under the waterand an angry humming sound died away downstream. As the report reachedtheir ears a jet of water spurted up into Red's face and he stepped backinvoluntarily.
"He's so shaky," Hopalong remarked, looking back at the wreath of smokeabove the boulder. "I reckon I must have hit him harder than I thoughtin Harlan's. Gee! He's wild as blazes!" he yelled as a bullet hummedhigh above his head and struck sharply against the rock wall.
"Yes," Red replied, coiling the rope. "I was trying to rope that rockover there. If I could anchor to that, the current would push us overquick. But it's too far with this wind blowing."
"We can't do nothing here 'cept get plugged. He'll be getting steadieras he rests from his fight with the water," Hopalong remarked, and addedquickly, "Say, remember that meadow back there a ways? We can make herfrom there, all right."
"Yo're right; that's what we've got to do. He's sending 'em nearer everyshot--Gee! I could 'most feel the wind of that one. An' blamed if itain't stopped raining. Come on."
They clambered up the slippery, muddy bank to where they had left theirhorses, and cantered back over their trail. Minute after minute passedbefore the cautious skulker among the rocks across the stream couldbelieve in his good fortune. When he at last decided that he was aloneagain he left his shelter and started away, with slowly weakeningstride, over cleanly washed rock where he left no trail.
It was late in the afternoon before the two irate punchers appearedupon the scene, and their comments, as they hunted slowly over the hardground, were numerous and bitter. Deciding that it was hopeless in thatvicinity, they began casting in great circles on the chance of crossingthe trail further back from the river. But they had little faith intheir success. As Red remarked, snorting like a horse in his disgust,"I'll bet four dollars an' a match he's swum down the river clean tohell just to have the laugh on us." Red had long since given it up asa bad job, though continuing to search, when a shout from the distantHopalong sent him forward on a run.
"Hey, Red!" cried Hopalong, pointing ahead of them. "Look there! Ain'tthat a house?"
"Naw; course not! It's a--it's a ship!" Red snorted sarcastically. "Whatdid you think it might be?"
"G'wan!" retorted his companion. "It's a mission."
"Ah, g'wan yoreself! What's a mission doing up here?" Red snapped.
"What do you think they do? What do they do anywhere?" hotly rejoinedHopalong, thinking about Johnny. "There! See the cross?"
"Shore enough!"
"An' there's tracks at last--mighty wobbly, but tracks just the same.Them rocks couldn't go on forever. Red, I'll bet he's cashed in by thistime."
"Cashed nothing! Them fellers don't."
"Well, if he's in that joint we might as well go back home. We won't gethim, not nohow," declared Hopalong.
"Huh! You wait an' see!" replied Red, pugnaciously.
"Reckon you never run up agin a mission real hard," Hopalong responded,his memory harking back to the time he had disagreed with a convent,and they both meant about the same to him as far as winning out wasconcerned.
"Think I'm a fool kid?" snapped Red, aggressively.
"Well, you ain't no _kid_."
"You let _me_ do the talking; _I'll_ get him."
"All right; an' I'll do the laughing," snickered Hopalong, at the door."Sic 'em, Red!"
The other boldly stepped into a small vestibule, Hopalong close at hisheels. Red hitched his holster and walked heavily into a room at hisleft. With the exception of a bench, a table, and a small altar, theroom was devoid of furnishings, and the effect of these was lost in thedim light from the narrow windows. The peculiar, not unpleasant odor ofburning incense and the dim light awakened a latent reverence and awein Hopalong, and he sneaked off his sombrero, an inexplicable feelingof guilt stealing over him. There were three doors in the walls, deeplyshrouded in the dusk of the room, and it was very hard to watch allthree at once.
Red was peering into the dark corners, his hand on the butt of his Colt,and hardly knew what he was looking for. "This joint must 'a' lookedplumb good to that coyote, all right. He had a hell of a lot of luck,but he won't keep it for long, damn him!" he remarked.
"Quit cussing!" tersely ordered Hopalong. "An' for God's sake, throw outthat damned cigarette! Ain't you got no manners?"
Red listened intently and then grinned. "Hear that? They're playingdominoes in there--come on!"
"Aw, you chump! 'Dominee' means 'mother' in Latin, which is what theyspeaks."
"How do you know?"
"Hanged if I can tell--I've heard it somewhere, that's all."
"Well, I don't care what it means. This is a frame-up so that coyotecan get away. I'll bet they gave him a cayuse an' started him offwhile we've been losing time in here. I'm going inside an' ask somequestions."
Before he could put his plan into execution, Hopalong nudged him and heturned to see his friend staring at one of the doors. There had been nosound, but he would swear that a monk stood gravely regarding them,and he rubbed his eyes. He stepped back suspiciously and then startedforward again.
"Look here, stranger," he remarked, with quiet emphasis, "we're afterthat cow-lifter, an' we mean to get him. Savvy?"
The monk did not appear to hear him, so he tried another tack. "_HablaEspanola?_" he asked, experimentally.
"You have ridden far?" replied the monk in perfect English.
"All the way from the Bend," Re
d replied, relieved. "We're after JerryBrown. He tried to kill Johnny, an' near made good. An' I reckon we'vetreed him, judging from the tracks."
"And if you capture him?"
"He won't have no more use for no side pocket shooting."
"I see; you will kill him."
"Shore's it's wet outside."
"I'm afraid you are doomed to disappointment."
"Ya-as?" asked Red with a rising inflection.
"You will not want him now," replied the monk.
Red laughed sarcastically and Hopalong smiled.
"There ain't a-going to be no argument about it. Trot him out," orderedRed, grimly.
The monk turned to Hopalong. "Do you, too, want him?"
Hopalong nodded.
"My friends, he is safe from your punishment."
Red wheeled instantly and ran outside, returning in a few moments,smiling triumphantly. "There are tracks coming in, but there ain't nonegoing away. He's here. If you don't lead us to him we'll shore have torummage around an' poke him out for ourselves: which is it?"
"You are right--he is here, and he is not here."
"We're waiting," Red replied, grinning.
"When I tell you that you will not want him, do you still insist onseeing him?"
"We'll see him, an' we'll want him, too."
As the rain poured down again the sound of approaching horses was heard,and Hopalong ran to the door in time to see Buck Peters swing off hismount and step forward to enter the building. Hopalong stopped him andbriefly outlined the situation, begging him to keep the men outside. Themonk met his return with a grateful smile and, stepping forward, openedthe chapel door, saying, "Follow me."
The unpretentious chapel was small and nearly dark, for the usualdimness was increased by the lowering clouds outside. The deep, narrowwindow openings, fitted with stained glass, ran almost to the rough-hewnrafters supporting the steep-pitched roof, upon which the heavy rainbeat again with a sound like that of distant drums. Gusts of rainand the water from the roof beat against the south windows, while thewailing wind played its mournful cadences about the eaves, and thestanch timbers added their creaking notes to swell the dirge-likechorus.
At the farther end of the room two figures knelt and moved before thewhite altar, the soft light of flickering candles playing fitfully uponthem and glinting from the altar ornaments, while before a rough coffin,which rested upon two pedestals, stood a third, whose rich, sonorousLatin filled the chapel with impressive sadness. "Give eternal restto them, O Lord,"--the words seeming to become a part of the room. Theineffably sad, haunting melody of the mass whispered back from the roombetween the assaults of the enraged wind, while from the altar came theresponses in a low, Gregorian chant, and through it all the clinking ofthe censer chains added intermittent notes. Aloft streamed the vaporof the incense, wavering with the air currents, now lost in the deeptwilight of the sanctuary, and now faintly revealed by the glow of thecandles, perfuming the air with its aromatic odor.
As the last deep-toned words died away the celebrant moved slowly aroundthe coffin, swinging the censer over it and then, sprinkling the bodyand making the sign of the cross above its head, solemnly withdrew.
From the shadows along the side walls other figures silently emerged andgrouped around the coffin. Raising it they turned it slowly around andcarried it down the dim aisle in measured tread, moving silently asghosts.
"He is with God, Who will punish according to his sins," said a lowvoice, and Hopalong started, for he had forgotten the presence of theguide. "God be with you, and may you die as he died--repentant and inpeace."
Buck chafed impatiently before the chapel door leading to a small,well-kept graveyard, wondering what it was that kept quiet for so longa time his two most assertive men, when he had momentarily expected tohear more or less turmoil and confusion.
_C-r-e-a-k!_ He glanced up, gun in hand and raised as the door swungslowly open. His hand dropped suddenly and he took a short step forward;six black-robed figures shouldering a long box stepped slowly pasthim, and his nostrils were assailed by the pungent odor of the incense.Behind them came his fighting punchers, humble, awed, reverent, theirsombreros in their hands, and their heads bowed.
"What in blazes!" exclaimed Buck, wonder and surprise struggling for themastery as the others cantered up.
"He's cashed," Red replied, putting on his sombrero and nodding towardthe procession.
Buck turned like a flash and spoke sharply: "Skinny! Lanky! Follow thatglory-outfit, an' see what's in that box!"
Billy Williams grinned at Red. "Yo're shore pious, Red."
"Shut up!" snapped Red, anger glinting in his eyes, and Billy subsided.
Lanky and Skinny soon returned from accompanying the procession.
"I had to look twice to be shore it was him. His face was plumb happy,like a baby. But he's gone, all right," Lanky reported.
"Deader'n hell," remarked Skinny, looking around curiously. "This hereis some shack, ain't it?" he finished.
"All right--he knowed how he'd finish when he began. Now for that dearMr. Harlan," Buck replied, vaulting into the saddle. He turned andlooked at Hopalong, and his wonder grew. "Hey, _you_! Yes, _you_! Comeout of that an' put on yore lid! Straddle leather--we can't stay hereall night."
Hopalong started, looked at his sombrero and silently obeyed. As theyrode down the trail and around a corner he turned in his saddle andlooked back; and then rode on, buried in thought.
Billy, grinning, turned and playfully punched him in the ribs. "Gettingglory, Hoppy?"
Hopalong raised his head and looked him steadily in the eyes; and Billy,losing his curiosity and the grin at the same instant, looked ahead,whistling softly.