Page 20 of Raw Gold: A Novel


  CHAPTER XX.

  THE MOUTH OF SAGE CREEK.

  With that opposing force behind us, we bore away across the shroudedbenches, straight for the mouth of Sage Creek. What method we wouldpursue when we got there was not altogether clear to me, and the samething evidently bothered Piegan, for, after a long interval, headdressed himself pointedly to MacRae.

  "We ought t' hit the river in an hour or so," he said. "It's time wefigured on how we're goin' t' work, eh? I wish t' the Lord it wasdaylight."

  "So do I," MacRae moodily responded. "For that matter, it won't be long.I've been thinking that the best way would be to get down on the flat atthe north of the creek and _cache_ our horses in the timber. Then we cansneak around without making any noise. If they're not camped on theflat, we'll find them somewhere up the gorge. Of course, there's achance that they have crossed the river--but if they didn't get therein daylight, and the river is still high, I hardly think they'd riskfording in the dark."

  "That's about the way I had sized it up," Piegan replied. "The flatain't bigger'n a good-sized flapjack, nohow, an' if they're on that orup in Sage Creek canyon, we're bound t' locate 'em; kain't help hearin'their hosses snort or cough or make some sort uh noise, if we gocareful. The worst of it is, we kain't start the ball a-rollin' till weget that girl spotted--that's the hell of it! Like as not she'd be thefirst one t' get hurt. An' if we get rambunctious an' stir 'em up in thedark, an' _don't_ put the finishin' to 'em right then an' there--why,they got all the show in the world t' make a hot-foot getaway. _Sabe?_While I ain't lookin' for a chance t' sidestep the game, for I know howyuh feel, I'd say locate 'em if we can, an' then back up a little andwait for day."

  "Oh, I know, I know!" Mac burst out. "That's sense. But it gives me thecreeps to think--to think----"

  "Sure; we know it," Piegan answered softly. "We kain't tell till we getthere, anyway. Maybe we'll get 'em dead t' rights. No tellin' what'llcome up when we get into that canyon. When we get 'em spotted we c'nmake up our minds what t' do--if we have any time t' talk about it," hefinished, in an undertone.

  As we rode, the crimson-yellow reflection of burning prairies began totint the eastern sky; once, from the crest of a hill, we saw thewavering line of flame, rising and falling in beautiful undulations. Andpresently we galloped across a mile or two of level grassland and pulledup on the very brink of Sage Creek canyon.

  "Easy, easy, from here on," Piegan whispered caution. "We may be rightabove 'em, for all we know. We hit it a little too high up. How fard'yuh reckon it is t' the mouth, Mac?"

  "Not more than half a mile," MacRae returned. "We're not far out. I knowwhere there's a good place to get down."

  We turned sharply to the right, coming out on a narrow point. Withoutmishap we reached the foot of the steep hill. At the bottom the wind wasalmost wholly shut off, so that sounds were easier to distinguish. Themoon had passed its zenith long since, and half of the flat lay in denseshadow. Beyond the shadow a pall of smoke lay over everything, ashifting haze that made objects near at hand indefinite of outline,impossible to classify at a glance. A horse or a tree or a clump ofbrush loomed up grotesquely in the vaporous blur.

  Mac, to whom the topography of that gloomy place was perfectly familiar,led the way. A black, menacing wall that rose before us suddenlyresolved itself into a grove of trees, great four-foot cottonwoods. Hestole into the heart of the grove and satisfied himself that our gamehad not appropriated it as a camping-place. That assured, we followedwith our horses and tied them securely, removing saddles and bridles,lest the clank of steel or creaking of leather betray our presence tolistening ears. On any noise our horses might make we had no choice butto take a chance. Then we looked to our guns and set out on a stealthysearch.

  A complete circle of that tiny bottom--it was only a shelf of sage-brownland lying between the river and the steep bank--profited us nothing,and Piegan whispered that now we must seek for them in the gorge.

  Cautiously we retraced our steps from the lower end of the flat, andturned into the narrow mouth of the canyon. We had no more than gotfairly between the straight-up-and-down walls of it than Piegan haltedus with a warning hand. We squatted in the sage-brush and listened.Behind us, from the river, came a gentle plashing.

  "Beaver," I hazarded.

  "Too loud," Piegan murmured. "Let's go back an' see."

  We reached the river-edge just in time to hear the splashing die away;and though we strained our eyes looking, we could make out no movementon the surface of the river or in the dimly-outlined scrub that fringedthe opposite bank. Piegan turned on the instant and ran to where we hadtied our horses; but they stood quietly as we had left them.

  "I got a hunch they'd got onto us, an' maybe set us afoot for astarter," Piegan explained. "I reckon that must 'a' been a deer or someother wild critter."

  Once more we turned into the canyon, and this time followed its narrow,scrub-patched floor some three hundred yards up from the river. It wasdark enough for any kind of deviltry in that four-hundred foot gash inthe earth; the sinking moon lightened only a strip along the east wall,near the top; lower down, smoke mingling with the natural gloom cast animpenetrable veil from bank to bank; not a breath of air stirred thetomblike stillness. Directly in front of us a horse coughed. We droppedon all fours, listened a moment, then crept forward. Without warning, wefound ourselves foul of a picket-line, and the vague forms of grazinghorses loomed close by. Piegan halted us with a touch, and we lay flat;then with our heads together he whispered softly:

  "We must be right on top uh them. It's a cinch their camp ain't far fromtheir livestock. I wonder----"

  To the left of us a horse snorted nervously; we heard him trot withhigh, springy strides to the end of his rope, and snort again. Then avoice cut the stillness that followed: "Here, you fool, what's thematter with you?"

  We hugged the ground like frightened rabbits. It hardly seemed possiblethat we could be within speaking-distance of them--yet that wasGregory's clear enunciation; I would know his speech in a jabberfest ofseveral nations.

  "What's the matter?" That, by the curt inflection, the autocraticperemptoriness, was Lessard. I had one hand on MacRae's shoulder, and Ifelt a tremor run through his body, like the rising of a cat's fur atsight of an adversary.

  "Oh, nothing much," Gregory answered carelessly. "I was just speaking toone of these fool horses. They seem to be as nervous as you are." Andwe could hear him chuckle over this last remark.

  After that there was nothing but the muffled tr-_up_, tr-_up_ of grazinghorses. Piegan or MacRae, I could not tell which, tugged gently at myarm, and the three of us retreated slowly, crawling both literally andfiguratively. When we were well away from the camp of that ungodlycombination, Piegan rose to his feet and we proceeded a little fasteruntil we reached a distance that permitted of low-toned conversation.

  "Now," Piegan declared, "we have 'em located. An' I'm here t' declarethat it's plumb foolish t' mix things with that layout till we can seet' shoot tolerable straight. If we go against 'em now, it'll be all samegoin' blindfolded into a barn t' pick out the best hoss. The first gunthat pops they'll raise up an' quit the earth like a bunch uh antelope._They_ ain't got nothin' t' win in a fight--unless they're cornered. Idid think uh tryin' t' get off with their hosses, but I figured itwouldn't pay with that sharp-eared cuss on the watch. Whenever it comesday, we got all the best uh things--though I don't reckon we'll have awalkaway. We want t' make a clean job once we start in, an' we kain't dothat in the dark. Furthermore, as I said before, if we go t' throwin'lead when we kain't see ten feet in front of us, we'd just about hitthat girl first rattle out uh the box. She ain't comin' t' no harm justnow, or it wouldn't be so blamed peaceful around there. It's only amatter of a couple uh hours t' daylight, anyhow. What d'yuh think?"

  "Under the circumstances, the only thing we can do is to wait," MacRaeassented, and I fancied that there was a reluctant quiver in his usuallysteady voice. "It's going to be smoky at daybreak, but we can see theircamp from this firs
t point, I think. There's a big rock over here--I'llshow you--you and Sarge can get under cover there. I'll lie up on theopposite side, so they'll have to come between us. Let them pack and getstarted. When they get nearly abreast, cut loose. Shoot theirsaddle-horses first, then we can fight it out. Come on, I'll show youthat rock."

  MacRae's bump of location was nearly as well developed as Piegan's. Hepicked his way through the sage-brush to the other side of the canyon,bringing us in the deepest gloom to a great slab of sandstone that hadfallen from above, and lay a few feet from the base of the sheer wall.It was a natural breastwork, all ready to our hand. There, withoutanother word, he left us. Crouching in the shelter of that rock, notdaring to speak above a whisper, denied the comforts of tobacco, itseemed as if we were never to be released from the dusky embrace ofnight. In reality it was less than two hours till daybreak, but theywere slow-footed ones to me. Then dawn flung itself impetuously acrossthe hills, and the naked rim of the canyon took form in a shifting whirlof smoke. Down in the depths gloom and shadows vanished together, andPiegan Smith and I peered over the top of our rock and saw the outlawcamp--men and horses dim figures in the growing light. We scanned theopposite side for sight of MacRae, but saw nothing of him; he kept closeunder cover.

  "They're packin' up," Piegan murmured, with a dry chuckle. "I reckonthings won't tighten nor nothin' in a few minutes, eh? But say, damn ifI see anything among that layout that resembles a female. Do you?"

  I did not, even when I focused the field-glasses on that bunch at thatshort distance. Certainly she was not there--at least she was not to beseen, and I could almost read the expression on each man's features, soclose did the glasses draw them up. And failing to see her started methinking that after all she might have given them the slip. I hoped itmight be so. Lyn was no chicken-hearted weakling, to sit down and weepunavailingly in time of peril. Bred on the range, on speaking-terms withthe turbulent frontier life, her wits weren't likely to forsake her in asituation of that kind.

  While the light of day grew stronger and the smoke eddied in heavierwreaths above, one of them swung up on a horse and came down the bottomat a fast lope. We had no means of knowing what his mission might be,but I did know that the square shoulders, the lean eagle face, couldonly belong to one man; and I dropped the glasses and drew a bead on hisbreast. I hesitated a second, squinting along the barrel of the carbine;I wanted him to round the point that jutted out from the other side ofthe canyon, so that his partners could not see his finish. If they didnot see him go down, nor observe the puff of smoke from behind the rock,they might think he had fired a shot himself. And while I waited,grumbling at the combination of circumstances that made it necessary toshoot down even a cold-blooded brute like him in such a way, Mac tookthe matter out of my hands in his own characteristic fashion.

  Lessard turned the point, and as the carbine-hammer clicked back underthe pull of my thumb, MacRae sprang to his feet from behind a squattyclump of sage, right in Lessard's path. Nervy as men are made, MacRaeworshiped at the shrine of an even break, a square deal for friend orfoe. And Lessard got it. There among the sage-brush he got a fair chancefor his life, according to the code of men who settle their differencesat the business end of a six-shooter. But it wasn't Lessard's hour.Piegan Smith and I saw his hand flash to his pistol, saw it come to alevel, heard the single report of MacRae's gun. It was a squaredeal--which Lessard had not given us. He crumpled in the saddle;sprawled a moment on the neck of his horse, and dropped to the ground.MacRae sank behind the sage again, and we waited for the others.