CHAPTER X
THE LOST TRAIL
It was after seven o'clock when Hollis mounted his pony in the rear ofthe _Kicker_ office and rode out over the plains toward the CircleBar. He was properly elated by the outcome of his affair with Ten Spot.The latter had come to the _Kicker_ office as an enemy looking foran opportunity to kill. He had left the office, perhaps not a friend,but at least a neutral, sympathetic onlooker, for according to Hollis'sinterpretation of his words at parting he would take no further part inDunlavey's campaign--at least he would do no more shooting.
Hollis was compelled to make a long detour in order to strike the CircleBar trail, and when at seven-thirty o'clock he rode down through a dryarroyo toward a little basin which he must cross to reach a ridge thathad been his landmark during all his trips back and forth from DryBottom to the Circle Bar, dusk had fallen and the shadows of theoncoming night were settling somberly down over the plains.
He rode slowly forward; there was no reason for haste, for he had toldPotter to say nothing about the reason of his delay in leaving DryBottom, and Potter would not expect him before nine o'clock. Hollis hadwarmed toward Potter this day; there had been in the old printer'smanner that afternoon a certain solicitous concern and sympathy that hadstruck a responsive chord in his heart. He was not a sentimentalist, butmany times during his acquaintance with Potter he had felt a genuinepity for the man. It had been this sentiment which had moved him to askPotter to remove temporarily to the Circle Bar, though one considerationhad been the fact at the Circle Bar he would most of the time be beyondthe evil influence of Dry Bottom's saloons. That Potter appreciated thishad been shown by his successful fight against temptation the nightbefore, when postponement of the publication of the _Kicker_ wouldhave been fraught with serious consequences.
Riding down through the little basin at the end of the arroyo Hollisyielded to a deep, stirring satisfaction over the excellent beginning hehad made in his fight against Dunlavey and the interests behind him.Many times he smiled, thinking of the surprise his old friends in theEast must have felt over the perusal of their copies of the_Kicker_; over the information that he--who had been something of afigure in Eastern newspaperdom--had become the owner and editor of anewspaper in a God-forsaken town in New Mexico, and that at the outsethe was waging war against interests that ridiculed a judge of the UnitedStates Court. He smiled grimly. They might be surprised, but they mustfeel, all who knew him, that he would stay and fight until victoryrewarded him or until black, bitter defeat became his portion. Therecould be no compromise.
When he reached the ridge toward which he had been riding for thegreater part of an hour night had come. The day had been hot, but therehad been a slight breeze, and in the _Kicker_ office, with thefront and rear doors open, he had not noticed the heat very much. Butjust as he reached the ridge he became aware that the breeze had dieddown; that waves of hot, sultry air were rising from the sun-bakedearth. Usually at this time of the night there were countless stars, andnow as he looked up into the great, vast arc of sky he saw no stars atall except away down in the west in a big rift between some mountains.He pulled up his pony and sat motionless in the saddle, watching thesky. A sudden awe for the grandeur of the scene filled him. Heremembered to have seen nothing quite like it in the East.
Back toward Dry Bottom, and on the north and south, rose great, blackthunderheads with white crests, seeming like mountains with snowcappedpeaks. Between the thunder-heads were other clouds, of grayish-white,fleecy, wind-whipped, weird shapes, riding on the wings of theStorm-Kings. Other clouds flanked these, moving slowly andmajestically--like great ships on the sea--in striking contrast to thefleecy, unstable shapes between the thunderheads, which, though rushingalways onward, were riven and broken by the irresistible force behindthem. To Hollis it seemed there were two mighty opposing forces at workin the sky, marshalling, maneuvering, preparing for conflict. While hesat motionless in the saddle watching, a sudden gust of cold windswirled up around him, dashed some fine, flint-like sand against hisface and into his eyes, and then swept onward. He was blinded for aninstant, and allowed the reins to drop on his pony's neck while herubbed his eyes with his fingers. He sat thus through an ominous hushand then to his ears came a low, distant rumble.
He touched his pony lightly on the flanks with his spurs and headed italong the ridge, convinced that a storm was coming and suddenlyrealizing that he was many miles from shelter.
He had traveled only a little distance when clouds of sand and dust,wind-driven, enveloped him, blinding him again, stinging his face andhands and blotting out the landmarks upon which he depended to guide himto the Circle Bar. The sky had grown blacker; even the patch of bluethat he had seen in the rift between the distant mountains was now gone.There was nothing above him--it seemed--except inky black clouds,nothing below but chaos and wind. He could not see a foot of the trailand so he gave the pony the rein, trusting to its instinct.
When Norton had provided him with an outfit the inevitable tarpaulin hadnot been neglected. Hollis remembered that this was attached to thecantle of the saddle, and so, after he had proceeded a little way alongthe crest of the ridge, he halted the pony, dismounted, unstrapped thetarpaulin, and folded it about him. Then he remounted and continued onhis way, mentally thanking Norton for his foresight.
The pony had negotiated the ridge; had slowly loped down its slope to acomparatively low and level stretch of country, and was travelingsteadily forward, when Hollis noticed a change in the atmosphere. It hadgrown hot again--sultry; the heat seemed to cling to him. An ominouscalm had succeeded the aerial disturbance. From a great distance came aslight sound--a gentle sighing--gradually diminishing until it died awayentirely. Then again came the ominous, premonitory silence--an absoluteabsence of life and movement. Hollis urged the pony forward, hoping thecalm would last until he had covered a goodly part of the distance tothe Circle Bar. For a quarter of an hour he went on at a good pace. Buthe had scarcely reached the edge of a stretch of broken country--whichhe dreaded even in the daylight--when the storm was upon him.
It did not come unheralded. A blinding flash of lightning illuminatedmiles of the surrounding country, showing Hollis the naked peaks ofridges and hills around him; gullies, draws, barrancas, the levels, lavabeds, fantastic rock shapes--mocking his ignorance of the country. Hesaw them all for an instant and then they were gone anddarkness--blacker than before--succeeded. It was as though a huge maphad suddenly been thrust before his eyes by some giant hand, an intenselight thrown upon it, and the light suddenly turned off. Immediatelythere came a heavy crash as though the Storm-Kings, having marshalledtheir forces, had thrown them together in one, great, clashing onrush.And then, straight down, roaring and shrieking, came the deluge.
The wise little plains-pony halted, standing with drooping head,awaiting the end of the first fierce onslaught. It lasted long and whenit had gone another silence, as ominous as the preceding one, followed.The rain ceased entirely and the pony again stepped forward, making hisway slowly, for the trail was now slippery and hazardous. The bakedearth had become a slimy, sticky clay which clung tenaciously to thepony's hoofs.
For another quarter of an hour the pony floundered through the mud,around gigantic boulders, over slippery hummocks, across little gullies,upon ridges and small hills and down into comparatively level stretchesof country. Hollis was beginning to think that he might escape a badwetting after all when the rain came again.
This time it seemed the Storm-Kings were in earnest. The rain came downin torrents; Hollis could feel it striking against his tarpaulin inlong, stinging, vicious slants, and the lightning played and dancedalong the ridges and into the gullies with continuing energy, thethunder following, crashing in terrific volleys. It was uncomfortable,to say the least, and the only consoling thought was that the delugewould prove a God-send to the land and the cattle. Hollis began to wishthat he had remained in Dry Bottom for the night, but of course DryBottom was not to be thought of now; he must devote all his energy to
reaching the ranch.
It was slow work for the pony. After riding for another quarter of anhour Hollis saw, during another lightning flash, another of hislandmarks, and realized that in the last quarter of an hour he hadtraveled a very short distance. The continuing flashes of lightning hadhelped the pony forward, but presently the lightning ceased and a denseblackness succeeded. The pony went forward at an uncertain pace; severaltimes it halted and faced about, apparently undecided about the trail.After another half hour's travel and coming to a stretch of levelcountry, the pony halted again, refusing to respond to Hollis's repeatedurging to go forward without guidance. For a long time Hollis continuedto urge the animal--he cajoled, threatened--but the pony would notbudge. Hollis was forced to the uncomfortable realization that it hadlost the trail.
For a long time he sat quietly in the saddle, trying in the densedarkness to determine upon direction, but he finally gave it up and witha sudden impulse took up the reins and pulled the pony to the left,determined to keep to the flat country as long as possible.
He traveled for what seemed several miles, the pony gingerly feeling itsway, when suddenly it halted and refused to advance. Something waswrong. Hollis leaned forward, attempting to peer through the darknessahead, but not succeeding. And now, as though having accomplished itsdesign by causing Hollis to lose the trail, the lightning flashed again,illuminating the surrounding country for several miles.
Hollis had been peering ahead when the flash came and he drew a deepbreath of horror and surprise. The pony had halted within a foot of theedge of a high cliff whose side dropped away sheer, as though cut with aknife. Down below, perhaps a hundred feet, was an immense basin, throughwhich flowed a stream of water. To Hollis's right, parallel with thestream, the cliff sloped suddenly down, reaching the water's edge at adistance of two or three hundred feet. Beyond that was a stretch ofsloping country many miles in area, and, also on his right, was a long,high, narrow ridge. He recognized the ridge as the one on which he andNorton had ridden some six weeks before--on the day he had had theadventure with Ed Hazelton. Another flash of lightning showed him twocotton-wood trees--the ones pointed out to him by Norton as marking BigElk crossing--the dead line set by Dunlavey and his men.
Hollis knew his direction now and he pulled the pony around and headedit away from the edge of the cliff and toward the flat country which heknew led down through the canyon to Devil's Hollow, where he had takenleave of Ed and Nellie Hazelton. He was congratulating himself upon hisnarrow escape when a flash of lightning again illuminated the countryand he saw, not over a hundred feet distant, sitting motionless on theirponies, a half dozen cowboys. Also on his pony, slightly in advance ofthe others, a grin of derision on his face, was Dunlavey.