CHAPTER XXIII.
The cheering light of hope began to break upon the crouching figure onthe ragged edge of rock above the quarry, as she watched the mendisappear, one by one, into the darkness on their way to their horses.
It suddenly dawned upon her that the hapless prisoner was to be left,bound and gagged, in this lonely spot until the return of that member ofthe band who had drawn the red bean. Some subtle intuition warned thealert onlooker that this one was either the Captain or Steve. Possiblyboth might return on the murderous mission, and, but for her, only thefew faint pitying stars of heaven would be witnesses of a dastardlycrime, darker than the night itself.
Supremely glad the girl felt at this moment that she had not been undulyhasty in her actions, for, by waiting, she would now have but one, ortwo at furthest, to overcome in order that Milt Derr might go free.
Swift upon the thought came another--that by acting quickly she might beable to liberate the hapless prisoner before even these two shouldreturn.
If she were but swift enough in her movements to reach the quarry andgive her sweetheart the pistol she carried, then would it bode evil tothe one who should come to wreak the oath of vengeance against thevictim.
She waited impatiently yet a little longer until the spot should beutterly deserted, and when her ears at last caught the sound ofretreating hoofs descending the rocky hill, she tightly grasped one ofthe cedar bushes and leaning over the edge of the jutting rocks calledsoftly:
"Milt! Milt! I'm here. I'll soon set you free. Don't lose heart!"
She understood that he could make no response, that the cruel gagprevented it, but as she listened intently, after her low-uttered wordsof encouragement, she heard him raise his fettered feet and strike themon the rock floor, one--twice--as if in response to her words of cheer.
The light from the smouldering fire had grown too dim for her to seethe movement, or note the look of bewilderment and incredulous surprisethat swept over the prisoner's face, as he turned his body slightly, andlooked up in the direction from which the voice had seemed to come.
"I'm on the ledge of rock above the quarry," Sally continued, hurriedly."It's too steep to climb down, but I'll go around, and come to you."
Quick upon her words, she sprang to her feet, eager to skirt the edge ofthe quarry, the light of love, which is stronger than sun or moon,guiding her steps through the night's labyrinth. Had not her thoughtsbeen entirely absorbed by the great eagerness in her heart to reach herlover and set him free before the return of his enemies, she would havemarveled at the ease and speed with which she moved in making her waydown the rugged hill toward its entrance.
And still it seemed an interminable journey, each step haunted by thefear that the one on whom the fatal choice of executioner had fallenmight return and wreak his vengeful mission before she could reach thespot by the circuitous route she had to take.
This fear, while it startled her, also urged her footsteps to greaterhaste, and at times she almost ran. Suddenly her feet became entangledin one of the many creeping wild vines that spread a tangled network inher path, and unable to recover her poise, she fell headlong to theground, striking heavily.
In a wilted heap she lay there for some minutes, stunned by the fall,seemingly not caring to move; then, on slowly regaining her scatteredwits, and recalling the haste and importance of her mission, she made aneffort to regain her feet.
Along with the effort a sharp pain darted through her ankle--so sharpand severe that she came near crying out, and after making a step or twoforward, she sank, with a little moan, down on the ground again,clasping her spent ankle with both hands.
A swarm of terrifying thoughts came crowding swiftly upon her. Had shebroken it? If so, what should she do in her utter helplessness? A mostunenviable situation it was--alone and crippled, far from human aid, asolitary object for pity, lying helpless amid those silent, gloomyhills, while the only person on whom she might have called in her direextremity, was even more helpless than she, and urgently needed herassistance even now to avert the terrible fate that was drawing verynear to him.
As she sat thus in her abject misery, aloof from succor or sympathy,rubbing her sprained ankle aimlessly the while, and bemoaning by turnsher misfortune and suffering, and the cruel situation of the bound andhelpless prisoner within the stone quarry, she finally attempted to moveher foot gently to and fro, and found to her surprise that the accidentwas only a sudden wrench, painful but not lasting. Hope once more buoyedher up, yet all this delay was a waste of precious time she could illafford to lose.
After a little prudent waiting she once more gained her feet andcarefully took a step or two forward, and though the effort cost hersome agony, it was not so intense as before, and seemed graduallywearing away, so with renewed determination she struggled bravely on, attimes compelled to sit down on the ground and tightly clasp her anklewith both hands to deaden the pain.
As she sat thus, rocking to and fro in her suffering, her ear caught thesound of a horse coming up the hill in the direction of the quarry. Upshe again started, in a fresh frenzy of terror, her physical pain givingway to the greater mental agony that beset her. Forgetful of her recentaccident, only remembering that the thing she had most dreaded mightspeedily come to pass, despite her efforts to prevent it, she struggledon.
The pain seemed suddenly to go as quickly as it had come, and she pushedresolutely onward, unmindful of her weak ankle or of the darkness,praying fervently the while that strength might remain to her, andenable her to reach the quarry before the horseman did.
The sound of the hoofbeats ceased. It was probable the rider haddismounted and was making his way on foot to where his victim lay. Shewas tempted to scream out--to rend the very silence with frantic criesfor help, yet to what purpose? It might only serve to hasten thedastardly work. Oh, that she had waited at the edge of the quarry, andsought to defend her loved from that secure vantage ground!
She gasped a prayer for aid, for strength, and redoubled her speed. Atlast the quarry's entrance was reached, and she had to pause a briefmoment to catch her spent breath. Then, in an agony of suspense, shepeered anxiously forward into the darkness and silence of the place.
From out the gloom she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. Herheart stood still. Was she, indeed, too late? Had the cruel messengeralready accomplished his bloody mission, and was he now returning fromthe scene of his dark crime?
As these questions flew to her troubled brain, there came the perplexingknowledge that the sounds she heard were those of two men coming towardher, not one, and she felt, rather than saw, the presence of two darkforms rapidly approaching. Had Jade Beddow come back with Steve? Theymust both have ridden one horse.
She would soon be discovered. Her life would surely pay the penalty ofher presence there. But at least Milt's death should be avenged. Shecared for naught else that might happen. She drew the pistol from itsholder and leveled it at the two shadowy forms looming up before her.
Suddenly from out the darkness and gloom there came the sound of avoice, low and guarded, yet the voice she most cared to hear in all theworld--the voice of Milton Derr. It seemed as if the very dead hadspoken.
"Did you come back alone?" the voice asked of the companion shadow.
"Yes, but the Captain may also soon return. Why do you ask?"
"As I lay in yonder place, another voice than yours spoke to me out ofthe gloom, and bade me have courage."
"You must have dreamed it," insisted Steve, for it was he. "We two mustbe the only livin' bein's on this hill, unless some other member of theband came back to set you free, as I have done. Whose voice was it?"
"A woman's."
"Then I know you dreamed it. What woman would be in this lonely spot atsuch an hour of the night? But let's not waste time in idle talk. Youmust get away from here, an' that quickly. Put as many miles as you canbetween this place an' daybreak. They turned your horse loose, butperhaps it would be better for you to make your way on foot. You mustnot b
e seen in this part of the country again, for if the Captain findsout I have not kept my oath, I will have to suffer in your place."
"How can I get away, where can I go?" Milt anxiously asked.
"Go up into the mountains--out West, anywhere except near this spot,"urged his companion. "Here's a little money to take along with you."
The two men were now close upon Sally, as she crouched in a dark angleof the rocky wall, and, although they spoke in low tones, she heard eachword. So near were they, in fact, she could have touched them bystretching forth her hand.
"You have done me a good turn, Steve. I shall never forget it!" criedMilton Derr, gratefully.
"You don't owe me any favors," answered Steve, hastily, almost roughly."The Captain had me in a tight fix, an' I had to say what I did, an' dowhat he told me to do, but I never meant to harm you. I haven't forgotthe other night. Good-by, Milt, take good care of yourself!"
A rider.]