CHAPTER XIII.
OUTLAWED.
I sat where I was for a while, fingering my sore head and keeping mythoughts to myself, for I had a keen sense of the mood he was in. Forthe second time, through no fault of his own, he had failed to live upto that tradition of the Force which accepts nothing short ofunqualified victory for a Mounted Policeman when he clashes withbreakers of the law. And, in addition, he had let slip through hisfingers a fortune that belonged to a woman for whom he cared a greatdeal more than he was willing to admit. I felt pretty small and ashamedmyself, to think of the ease with which they had left us afoot on thebald prairie after all our scheming, our precaution against something wewere sure would happen; and there was no responsibility on myshoulders--except for that ten thousand of La Pere's, which I wasbeginning to think I'd looked my last upon. Mac had not only theknowledge of personal failure--bitter enough, itself, to a man of histemperament--to gnaw at him, but the prospect of another grilling fromthe powers in gold braid. It would have been strange if he hadn't feltblue.
He came back, however, in a few minutes, and squatting beside meabstractedly got out papers and tobacco.
"I suppose that bunch will quit the country now," he remarked at length."They've got their hands on a heap of money in the last ten days; allthey'll have a chance to grab for some time. And they've come out intothe open. So there's not much doubt of their next move--they'll be onthe wing."
"Well, we have a cinch on identifying them now," I commented. "We've gotthat much out of the deal. If the Mounted Police are half as goodman-hunters as they are said to be, they ought to round up that bunch inshort order. Did the black hurt you when he fell?"
"Bruised my leg some," he returned indifferently. Then, scowling at theremembrance: "If he hadn't caught me right under him I'd have gotaction on those two. But the jar threw my six-shooter where I couldn'treach it, and the carbine was jammed in the stirrup-leather on the wrongside. I reckon Gregory thought he got me first shot. He would have, too,only Crow threw up his head and stopped the bullet instead of me. Theyhad ducked into that coulee by the time I got clear. Hicks grabbed yourhorse and took him along. I'm somewhat puzzled to know why they didn'tstand pat and make a clean job of us both. Blast them, anyway!"
"Same here, and more of it," I fervently exclaimed.
"Come on, let's get out of here," Mac abruptly proposed. "We'll have tomake Pend d' Oreille and send word to Walsh. It'll take the whole forceto catch them now."
My gun lay where it had fallen when Hicks whacked me over the head. Ipicked it up, replaced the empty cartridge, and shoved it back into thescabbard. MacRae hoisted the carbine to his shoulder, and we started.
We poked along slowly at first, for I was still a bit dizzy from thatblow. Before long we came to a spring seeping from the hillside, andwhen I had bathed my head in the cool water I began to feel more likemyself. Thereafter, we tramped silently across high, dry benches, slidand scrambled to the bottoms of an endless succession of coulees, andwearily climbed the steep banks that lay beyond. The cool morning winddied away; the sun reeled up on its appointed circle, glaring brazenlyinto every nook and cranny in the land. Underfoot, the dry sod grewwarm, then hot, till the soles of our boots became instruments oftorture to feet that were sadly galled by fruitless tramping around theStone. When a man has grown up in the habit of mounting a horse totravel any distance over three hundred yards, a walk of twentyundulating miles over a network of bald ridges and yawning coulees makeshim think that a sulphur-and-brimstone hereafter can't possibly holdmuch discomfort that he hasn't sampled. A cowpuncher in high-heeledriding-boots is handicapped for pedestrianism by both training andinclination--and that scarred and wrinkled portion of the Northwest is amighty poor strolling-ground for any man.
But we kept on, for the simple reason that there was nothing else wecould do. MacRae wasted no breath in words. If the heat and the ungodlysteepness of the hills and the luke-warm water that trickled along thecreek channels ruffled his temper, he made no noise about it, onlypressed doggedly toward Pend d' Oreille. I daresay he thought I wasattending to that part of it, registering a complaint for both of us.And if I didn't rise to the occasion it was the fault of my limitedvocabulary. I kept a stiff backbone for a while, but presently a futilerage against circumstances bubbled up and boiled over. I climbed eachsucceeding canyon wall oozing perspiration and profanity, and when thetop was reached took fresh breath and damned the Northwest by sectionsin a large, fluent manner of speech. In time, however, the foolishnessof this came home to me, and I subsided into spasmodic growling, savingmy wind for the miles yet to cover.
Well past noon we reached the summit of a hog-backed ridge thatoverlooked the tortuous windings of Lost River, a waterless channelbetween banks that were void of vegetation. The crest of the divide wasstudded with great outcroppings of sand-stone, and in the shadow of onegiant rock we laid down to rest before we descended into that barrenvalley where the heat-waves shimmered like crepon silk. The cool bit ofearth was good to stretch upon; for nearly an hour we laid there, beyondreach of the glowing sun; it was worth almost the treasure we had lostto ease our aching feet. Then reluctantly we started again.
As we stepped from behind the rock three riders came into sight on theopposite slope of Lost River. A moment's scrutiny assured us that theywere Mounted Policemen. From habit our eyes swept the surroundingcountry, and in a moment we observed other groups of mounted men, anequal distance apart and traveling in the same general direction--like around-up sweeping over a cattle-range.
"They're out for somebody. I shouldn't be surprised if they havesmelled out our friends," said MacRae. "And seeing this bunch is headingright toward us, we might as well take it easy here till they come up."
Returning to the cool shade, we waited till they crossed that miniaturedesert. I looked once or twice, and hoped we would not have to walk overit; I'd seen the Mohave and the Staked Plains, and I knew it wassizzling hot in that ancient river-bed--it _is_ hot, and dry, when theheat-waves play tricks with objects seen from afar. Those three ridersmoved in a transparent haze, distorted, grotesque figures; now giants,broad, uncouth shapes; now pigmies astride of horses that progressedslowly on long, stiltlike legs, again losing form and waving like tall,slender trees swayed by vagrant winds. After a time they ascended abovethe level where the superheated atmosphere played its pranks, and cameriding up the ridge in their true presentment. When they got withinshouting distance we stepped into the sunlight and hailed them.
From the moment that they jerked up their horses at MacRae's call, Ihad an odd sense of impending trouble. For an instant it seemed as ifthey were about to break for cover; and when they approached us therewas a strained, expectant expression on each tanned face, a wariness intheir actions that looked unnatural to me. The nearer they came the moredid I feel keyed up for some emergency. I can't explain why; that'ssomething that I don't think will bear logical analysis. Who can explainthe sixth sense that warns a night-herder of a stampede a moment beforethe herd jumps off the bed-ground? But that is how I felt--andimmediately it transpired that there was good reason.
They stopped their horses within ten feet of us and dismounted, allthree of them, a corporal and two privates, in the same breath that wesaid "hello." The corporal, rather chalky-looking under his tan, steppedforward and laid a hand on MacRae's shoulder.
"Gordon MacRae and Sarge Flood, in the Queen's name I arrest you for therobbery of Paymaster Ingstram on the MacLeod trail and the murder oftwo of his escort, and I warn you that anything you may say will be usedagainst you."
He poured it out without pause or inflection, like a lesson welllearned, a little ceremony of speech that it was well to hurry over; andthe two troopers edged nearer, the right hand of each stealing towardthe pistol that rested on his hip. It took nerve to beard us that way,when one comes to think it over. If we had been guilty of that raid, itwas dollars to doughnuts that we would resist arrest, and according tothe rules and regulations of the Force, they were compelled to t
ake along chance. A Mounted Policeman can't use his gun except inself-defense. He isn't supposed to smoke up a fugitive unless thefugitive begins to throw lead his way--which method of procedure gives aman who is, in the vernacular, "on the dodge" all the best of asituation like that; for it gives an outlaw a chance to take theinitiative, and the first shot often settles an argument of that kind.The dominating idea, as I understood it, was that the majesty of the lawshould prove a sufficiently powerful weapon; and in the main it did. Nothief, murderer, or smuggler ever yet successfully and systematicallydefied it. Men have gone to the bad up there--robbed, murdered,defrauded, killed a Policeman or two, maybe, but in the end weregathered in by "the riders of the plains" and dealt with according totheir just deserts. So it has come to pass throughout the length andbreadth of the Northwest that "in the Queen's name" out of the mouth ofan unarmed redcoat, with one hand lightly on your shoulder, carries moreweight than a smoking gun.
None of this occurred to me, just then. The one thing that loomed big inmy mind's eye was the monstrous injustice of the accusation. Comingright on top of what I'd lately experienced at the hands of the men whohad really done that dirty job--my head still tingled from the impact ofHicks' pistol--it stirred up all the ugliness I was capable of, and alot that I had never suspected. No Fort Walsh guardhouse for me! Nolying behind barred windows, with my feet chain-hobbled like a strayinghorse, while the slow-moving Canadian courts debated my guilt orinnocence! Not while I had the open prairie underfoot and the summer skyabove, and hands to strike a blow or pull a trigger.
Even had I been alone I think that I was crazy enough, for the moment,to have matched myself single-handed against the three of them. In whichcase I should likely have bidden a premature farewell to all earthlyinterests--though I might, perhaps, have managed to take with me aPoliceman or two for company on the long trail. But a queer look thatflashed over MacRae's face, a suggestive drawing back of his arm,intimated that something of the same was in his mind. Heavens, but a mancan think a lot in the space of time it takes to count three!
I jumped for the two troopers, with a frenzied notion that I could putthem both out of business if MacRae would only attend to the corporal.The distance didn't permit of gun-play; and, hot as I was, I had thesense to know that those men weren't responsible for my troubles; Ididn't want to kill them, if I could help it--what I desired above allelse was to get away, and burn powder with Hicks, Gregory and Co., ifpowder-burning was to be on the programme. They did try to pull theirguns, but I was too close. I spoiled their good intentions by kickingone with all the force I could muster, and throwing my arms in a ferventembrace about the neck of the other.
A number eight box-toed riding-boot planted suddenly in the pit of one'sstomach brings about the same result as a kick from a vigorous Missourimule, I should imagine; anyway, that Mounted Policeman was eliminated asa fighting unit from the instant my toe made connections with hisperson. The other fellow and I went to the ground, and our struggle wasof short duration, for Mac bought into the ruction with his carbine fora club, and under its soothing touch my wiry antagonist ceased fromtroubling. I scrambled to my feet and glanced around. The corporal wassprawled on the grass, his face to the sky.
"We've burned our bridges now, sure as fate," Mac broke out. "Here,I'll peel the guns off the bunch, and you lead their horses up to therock out of sight of these other fellows. If they catch sight of usmilling around here they're apt to swing over this way to see what'sup."
I led the horses close to the boulder and left them standing there whileI hurried back. By that time the fellow I'd kicked had so far recoveredas to sit up, and the look he gave us was a scorcher. MacRae, withcocked carbine to emphasize his command, ordered him to drag his comradeto where the horses stood; and I followed after, lugging the insensiblecorporal to the same shady place.
"I want to know the how of this," Mac demanded of the trooper. "Whoissued orders for our arrest on this damn fool charge? And when?"
"Lessard give us our orders," the Policeman growled. "He's been out witha whole bloomin' troop ever since he got word the paymaster 'ad binstuck up. We got a commissary along, an' nooned about ten miles east o'here. After dinner--about two or three hours ago--he lined us up an'said as 'ow he'd got word that you two fellers 'ad bin identified asbein' the chaps as pulled off that paymaster row, an' that he wantedyou. Said he 'ad reason t' believe you was some'ers between Lost Riveran' the Stone, an' you was t' be captured without fail. An' that's all Iknow about it," he concluded frankly, "except that you fellers is bloodyfools t' make a break like this. It'll go that much 'arder withyou--there ain't a bloomin' chance for you t' get away. You might justas well give up peaceable."
"Oh, don't preach," MacRae protested. "I know all that as well as youdo. Great Scott! Burky, you've known me ever since I joined; do youimagine for a minute that I was in on that hold-up? Why, you knowbetter. If I'd done anything so damned rotten, I'd have been out of thecountry long before this."
"Orders is orders," Burky sententiously observed. "Headquarters sezyou're t' be took in, an' you'll be took in, no matter what a feller'sprivate opinion happens t' be. I ain't no bloomin' judge an' jury t'set on your case, anyway. You'll get a square trial--same as everybodygets. But you ain't a-helpin' yourself a-cuttin' of didoes like this."
"I haven't time to go into details," Mac told him, "and I don't supposeyou'd believe me if I did. But I've a blamed good reason for not wantingto put in several months cooling my heels under guard while the men thatgot the stuff get clear out of the country. We're going to take two ofthese horses, because we'll need them in our business; and we'll leaveyour guns at that big rock down the ridge. I don't want to hurt you,Burky, but if you start making signals to the rest of the bunch beforewe get out of sight, you'll go back to Walsh feet first. So be good.You'll see us again before long."
When we were ready to mount, MacRae fired another question at Burky."Say, have you seen anything of Frank Hicks or Paul Gregory to-day?"
"They was both in camp at noon," the trooper replied.
"Huh! They were, eh?" MacRae swung up, and spoke from the saddle. "Well,if you see them again, tell them we'll sure give them a hard run forthe money. And if you've got your month's pay on you, Burky, you'dbetter keep your hand on it while those two pilgrims are about."
We took the third horse along as a precautionary measure. At a boulderdown the ridge we left him, together with their belts, as Mac hadpromised. The only bit of their property we kept besides the horses wasa pair of field-glasses--something that we knew would be priceless tomen who were practically outlawed. For the next two hours we slunk likecoyotes in coulee-bottoms and deep washouts, until we saw the commissarywagon cross the ridge west of Lost River, saw from a safe distance thebrown specks that were riders, casting in wide circles for sight of usor our trail.
Then MacRae leaned over his saddle-horn and made a wry face at them.
"Hunt, confound you," he said, almost cheerfully. "We'll give you somehunting to do before you're through with us."