Chapter Five
The Unknown Rider
Slim slept restlessly that night, his mind disturbed by the grief andworry over the loss of his horse. He was awake with the first rosy tintin the sky above the Cajons.
Chuck was still sleeping soundly and Slim, barefooted, walked quietlydown to the creek where he washed his face and hands. They had used upthe supply of wood gathered the night before and he picked up an armfulof dry sticks before returning to the camp.
Chuck was awake and stretching lazily when Slim dropped the wood besidethe dead ashes.
"Going to be a great day for walking," said the Circle Four cowboy as hepulled on his boots.
"Not for my feet after the beating I gave them running around over therocks in my stocking feet," said Slim.
While Chuck was at the creek washing, Slim started the fire and checkedover their supplies. There was enough bacon for the morning meal andfour slices of bread that were so dry they now resembled hardtack. Notmuch food for a couple of hungry cowpunchers.
"We're short of grub," he informed Chuck.
"Just enough bacon for breakfast and a snack of bread."
"Might just as well start the day on a full stomach. We'll need it.How's the coffee?"
"Plenty of coffee, but it's going to take us at least a day to reach thebottom of this trail."
"Well, the coffee will help. We can drink that and think we've had ameal."
By the time the sun was up, they had finished breakfast and were aboutthe task of breaking their simple camp.
"What about your saddle?" Chuck asked.
"I'm going to tote it with me as far as I can. If it gets too heavy I'llcache it along the way. Dad gave it to me and I'm not going to take anyunnecessary chances of losing it."
Slim made up his duffel roll and fastened it to his saddle. Then hepaused to look around the camp and make sure nothing had beenoverlooked. Chuck, rifle in hand, was waiting for him.
Slim swung the heavy saddle on his back and they started down the SkyHigh trail. It was covered with a fair growth of grass, for in recentyears it was used by only an occasional rider and the walking wouldn'thave been half bad in low heeled shoes. But riding boots, with theirhigh heels, were never meant to pound along over a none too smoothtrail. Slim knew that he would be in agony before the day was over.
They reached the rock strewn wash where Chuck had been ambushed andstopped while the Circle Four cowboy picked up his saddle. High abovethem a buzzard was circling. In a few short hours Chuck's cayuse wouldbe another skeleton along the trail, hinting at an unsolved mystery.
Chuck stuck his rifle into the boot fastened to his saddle and thecowboys resumed their march down the trail. It was tough going over therocks, but they were soon out of the wash, and the footing was a littlebetter.
It was here that they picked up the trail of the men who had bushwhackedChuck. Slim recognized Lightning's hoofprints at once. A little furtheralong they found where two more horses had been tethered for some time.
"They left their horses here while they went up in the draw and used mefor a target," said Chuck bitterly.
"Think you'd be able to recognize them if you saw them again?"
"I doubt it. The distance was too great and the light was poor."
"I'll know one of them," said Slim. "I put my mark on him. Unless I missmy guess he's got a shattered right elbow. If I ever catch up with himhe'll have something besides an elbow busted all out of shape."
The sun burned down over the Cajons and the thin air soon warmed.Rivulets of perspiration streamed down Chuck's back and his shirt wassoon soaked. Slim, not quite so heavy, felt the heat less.
They pounded along for better than an hour when Chuck called a halt."Let's stop in the shade of these scrub oaks. This saddle is digging itsway right into the middle of my back."
Slim welcomed the suggestion and they flopped down in the shade.
Chuck looked up speculatively at the clear blue of the sky. There wasn'ta cloud in sight, and the breeze had died down to a whisper.
"How many more miles to the bottom of the trail?" he asked.
"I don't know exactly. I'd say we've covered about four miles sinceleaving camp. It must be 23 or 24 more."
"I'll never make it."
"I've got to be at the foot of the trail tonight," said Slim.
"I'm supposed to be," admitted Chuck, "but I've serious doubts if my'dogs' will hold out for better than 20 miles."
"We'd better keep pounding along. Another hour and we'll stop and make apot of coffee and find a creek where we can soak our feet for awhile."
"Good idea. Mine feel like they're burning up right now."
Shouldering their saddles, they set off down the trail. The grade waseasing now. There was more timber but the grass was still scarce.
"Not much grazing land here," commented Chuck.
"No. That's up in the Creeping Shadows country. I've never been therebut I've heard there's some of the best grass in Wyoming in thatvalley."
"Wouldn't have to be very good to be that," said Chuck. "We almostburned out this summer. No rain for weeks."
"There's been little or no rain here, but the Creeping Shadows alwaysseem to get water."
They were silent for a time and Slim wondered why Chuck, too, wasanxious to get to the bottom of the trail that night. He couldn't helpthinking about the letter which had fallen from his companion's pocketthe night before and there was still the unanswered question on whyChuck had been set upon by the two gunmen.
The sun was well toward its zenith when they made their second stopbeside a small stream. There was a little grass and a few trees in thevalley, enough at least to provide them with shade.
Slim pulled off his boots and socks and looked at his feet. They werered and swollen. Chuck's looked to be in even worse condition.
The Circle Four cowboy crawled to the water's edge on his hands andknees and gratefully thrust his feet into the cool water.
"Oh boy! What a relief. I didn't know water could feel so good. I'vehalf a mind to spend the rest of the day right here."
"Then you'll have to spend it alone. I'm going to push on as soon as myfeet feel a little better and we have some coffee."
"Maybe the coffee will pep me up," agreed Chuck. "I'll rustle up thewood in a little bit."
The cool water reduced the swelling of their feet and a few minuteslater they donned their socks and boots and picked up enough dry woodfor a fire. Slim filled the coffee pot and shortly before noon they hadtwo cups of the steaming beverage apiece.
"Not much of a meal," said Slim, "but it puts a little more stiffeningin my back."
Chuck nodded, looking thoughtfully at his saddle.
"Tell you what. I'm going to cache my saddle. I don't think we'll makeit to the bottom of the trail tonight if we don't. Once rid of thesaddles we'll be able to walk a lot faster and it will ease the strainon our feet."
Slim looked down at his boots. The morning's walk over the uneven groundhad done them little good. The soles had been gouged by sharp rocks andthe heels were wearing off at a crazy angle. By the end of the day hewould have to discard his expensive boots for he doubted if even themost expert cobbler would possess the skill to repair them.
"Guess you're right," he agreed. "I hate to leave my saddle, but I knowI can't carry it to the bottom of the trail tonight."
Chuck looked at Slim sharply, each perplexed, perhaps a little alarmed,at the insistence of the other upon reaching the trail's end by sundown.
Slim washed the coffee grounds out of the pot and then placed thebattered tin pot and the remaining coffee in his blanket roll.
"There's a little draw off to the left and across the creek that oughtto be a good place to leave our saddles," said Chuck.
They tossed the saddles across the creek and then jumped after them. Athicket in the draw which Chuck had pointed out proved ideal for acache. They returned to the other side of the creek and slung t
heirblanket rolls over their shoulders.
Both cowboys had unfastened their rifle scabbards from their saddles,and they carried these in their right hands, the butts of the gunsprotruding from the leather case.
With the burden of their saddles gone and their feet rested, they setout down the trail again. The blinding heat of midday was upon them, butthey dared not tarry longer beside the creek.
Heads down and shoulders hunched, they plodded along the trail.Hoofprints of three horses were still plainly visible for the men whohad stolen Lightning had ridden down the trail at a fast pace.
"Makes me boil inside every time I think of my being set afoot," snortedChuck. "Maybe I'll take a little time off and hunt around for the boyswho did me dirt. With the souvenir you left on that one chap's arm, theyshouldn't be so hard to find."
They swung around a bend in the trail and came upon the ashes of arecent campfire. Slim placed his hand in the ashes. They were cold.
"The horses were staked out and hobbled over here," called out Chuck."Too bad we didn't slip down the trail last night and take them bysurprise."
"It's easy to think of those things now," grinned Slim as he picked up ahandkerchief which was covered with brown stains. "I don't imagine oneof them passed a very comfortable night."
In midafternoon they paused beside another mountain stream to rest andbathe their weary feet.
"My 'dogs' look like they are going to explode," said Chuck as hewiggled his toes in the cool water.
Slim, stretched on the bank beside him, nodded. He was wondering if theywould be able to maintain their pace and make the bottom of the trailthat night. He didn't want to disappoint Bill Needham, for the oldcattleman had written that he was counting on him.
"My stomach and backbone are so close together I'm afraid they'll form aunion and strike on me," grumbled Chuck, "unless I put some food insideme quick."
"There's a little coffee left."
"Then coffee it is," said Chuck. He built a fire and brewed a bitter potof beverage.
"What did you drop in this? The heel of one of your boots?" asked Slimas he sipped the black stuff.
"Don't complain. It's hot and it's filling, which is the main thing."
In spite of its poor taste, they downed the coffee, drew on their boots,picked up the rifles, and resumed the painful downward trip.
The sun was swinging well along toward the horizon and the country wasflattening out. They had reached the foothills, but there was still nosign of human habitation. Coming out of a patch of timber, they lookeddown a long, broad valley, the grass of which had been burned out by thesun.
"I pity cattle trying to live off this stuff," said Slim.
"Better pity us. If we don't find something real to eat, we may have totake to grass."
Chuck started down the trail again when Slim's call stopped him.
"Wait a minute. There's a horseman riding into the lower end of thevalley."
Chuck halted and scanned the far end of the valley.
"Can't see a thing. Maybe you're going daffy."
"I'm not daffy," retorted Slim sharply. "Just stand still a minute. Thefellow's coming in from the right and he's leading another horse."
Chuck shaded his eyes and peered intently in the direction Slim hadindicated.
"You're right. What now?"
"Let's drop back in the timber along the trail and wait for him to comeup where we can get a good look."
They found shelter in a tangle of brush that had grown up around afallen tree. Slim pulled his rifle from the scabbard and threw open themagazine. The weapon was ready for action.
"Not taking any chances?" Chuck asked.
"Nary a chance. I took one last night and lost Lightning."
The rider advanced rapidly but the sun blazed in the eyes of the cowboysand they found it difficult to see clearly.
The oncoming horseman was less than 400 yards away when Slim recognizedthe horse.
"He's riding Lightning!" he cried. "Chuck do you hear? That's Lightningcoming up the trail!"
"Sure I hear and unless you pipe down that rider will hear you and thenLightning may be forced to go the other way in a hurry."
Slim, who had stood up in his moment of wild elation, crouched downbehind the tree trunk and cradled the butt of his rifle against hischeek. The lines of his jaw snapped into straight, tense lines and hisfinger crooked around the trigger. A little further and the unknownrider of Lightning would be out of the angle of the Sun's protectingrays.