CHAPTER XXXI
"I been thinkin' we might as well move on a ways," said McHale. "Here'sold Simon drops in on us. Somebody else might. I don't feel right aboutit. I want to git some place, like up in one o' them basins, wherestrangers won't be passin' by every day."
"Well, I'll go you," Sandy agreed; "but there's an old bear that I wantfirst. He's got a foot as big as a fiddle; I'll bet he weighs as muchas a steer."
"What'll you do with a bear? We don't want to go packin' a green hideabout with us. The horses hate the smell of it."
"Let 'em get used to it, then," Sandy returned. "I'm starting afterthat bear now. Better come along. If I don't get him I'll goto-morrow."
But McHale refused to accompany him. He hated climbing. If he could goon a horse that would be different. Therefore Sandy set out alone.
He ascended a shoulder of the mountain, working his way upward to wherehe had located the range of the big bear. It was steady climbing, andrough as well, but Sandy was in hard, lean condition, with thelimitless wind and springy muscles of youth. He arrived at hisobjective point, a spot which gave him a clear view of the mountainside for a mile on either hand. Somewhere in that area, he had alreadydecided, the bear would be feeding. He settled down for a long, carefulinspection; first with the naked eye, which yielded nothing, and nextwith a pair of binoculars. Sandy, when hunting, possessed unlimitedpatience. He settled himself comfortably, and kept the glasses at work.Finally his patience was rewarded. A mile or more up the hillside ahuge, brown shape shambled into view.
"Lord! he's a big brute," Sandy muttered. "That's a hide worth getting.I'll wait till he settles down for keeps."
Apparently the bear had found food to his liking. He was busy with pawand tongue beside a rotten log. Sandy mapped out a route in his mind,and decided to make a start. It was then noon. As he rose he happenedto look up the valley.
It lay below him, ashimmer in the summer sun, a panorama of green,light and dark of shade, with the silver ribbon of the Klimminchuckappearing and disappearing down its length. It was, perhaps, asbeautiful a mountain valley scene as eye ever beheld; but Sandy McCraewould not have looked at it twice save for a thin, gray thread whichappeared above the treetops some miles away. It became a column,ballooned, and then was invisible. But he knew that somebody had juststarted a fire.
He picked out the spot with the glasses. Smoke was plainly visiblethrough the powerful lenses. It was close to the river--beside thebank, in fact--and he could catch glimpses of one or two horses. But,because of the trees, he could see little more.
"Darn the luck," said Sandy. "There's the biggest hide in the wholerange waiting for me, and somebody has to come butting in. Well,there's only one thing to do."
That thing being to get back to camp as fast as possible, Sandyproceeded to do it. He went downhill at a pace that would have shakenan older and heavier man to pieces; for going downhill is, contrary tothe popular idea, much harder on the human frame than going up. Hebroke into camp and roused McHale from a state of somnolence andtobacco.
"I could 'a' tanned your young hide when you bulled off after thatbear," said the latter. "Now I seem to see what them salvation scoutscalls 'the finger of Providence' in the play. In other words, it'splumb safe to keep one eye skinned. Do I look like I was scared,Sandy?"
"Nah!" said Sandy contemptuously.
"Well, you're going to see me act like I was." He rose swiftly, hislaziness falling from him now that there was work to do. "Go and fetchin them cayuses. I'll break camp."
The horses being on picket caused no delay. When Sandy brought them in,McHale had their entire outfit in two heaps, ready to pack. With theskill and swiftness of experience they made the packs, threw thehitches, drew the lash ropes tight. The result was two compact bundleswhich could not work loose.
"I dunno who our friends are," said McHale, as they rode out of camp,"but if it's this here Dade bunch, say, what a surprise they'd havegive me all by myself. I can just see me gettin' up in time to falldown."
"They've got no license to chase us all over," said Sandy. "We don'thave to stand for it, do we? How'd it be if we held up their camp? Orelse we could lay for them as they came along, and settle it rightthere."
"Bushwhack 'em?" said McHale. "No, I reckon not. We want to keep out oftrouble. If we held 'em up what'd we do with them? We couldn't tie 'emand leave 'em; and we couldn't pack 'em around. Nothing for it but torun like men. The country's big enough for both of us."
Sandy grunted disapproval, but said no more. Personally he would havewelcomed a fight. He was a marvellously quick and accurate shot witheither rifle or revolver, and he was ready to make a friend's quarrelhis own. However, he deferred to McHale's views.
Farther down the Klimminchuck they turned up a nameless tributarycreek, following its course with difficulty, for the way was chokedwith down timber and slides, until they reached a beautiful littlebasin high up above the valley. There the creek had its source orsources; for the drainings of the basin were collected in a little lakelying beneath bare cliffs. The water was swarming with trout, so thatone supply of food was assured.
Beside the lake and the cliffs they made camp. They could not see thevalley, neither could they be seen thence; but by walking half a milethey could look down into it. Sandy, mindful of his disappointment,began to prospect for bear.
McHale relapsed once more into a morass of sleep and tobacco. But whileSandy was ranging afield he lay on the edge of the basin drowsing andwatching the valley, for he did not intend to be taken by surprise.
But that was exactly what happened. He had withdrawn from his post ofobservation earlier than usual, and he and Sandy were smoking aftersupper in the fading light, when a little cavalcade rode into thebasin, preceded by one who walked slowly, studying the ground.
McHale saw them at the same moment that they perceived the camp. Heleaped to his feet with an oath, snatching up his rifle and a gunnysack, which, among other things, contained their cartridges. His beltgun he never laid aside.
Sandy also jumped for his gun, slamming the lever down and up as theweapon came to his shoulder. He stood fairly in the open, covering theforemost man. But McHale caught his arm.
"Come on and get back among them rocks," he cried. "We can't stand 'emoff here."
Behind them as they ran a sudden yell went up, and a single bulletbuzzed past like a mad bee. But they reached the shelter of the rocksfallen from the cliff at some remote period, and dropped to cover.Before them the great slabs formed a natural breastwork; behind themrose the sheer cliff, gray and weather-stained. Their backs were amplyprotected; in front they must take care of themselves.
The newcomers dismounted in the concealment of trees. Five minutesafterward a man walked leisurely forward. McHale recognized Dade. Atfifty paces he halted him.
"I wouldn't come no nearer, Dade, if I was you."
"I'm coming a heap closer pretty soon."
"All right; you're expected," McHale retorted. "You call a feud on me,do you? Now you listen here: You call it off and call your bunch off,or there'll be doin's."
"I'm talkin' to your partner," said Dade. "I s'pose it's young McCrae.We got nothing against you, McCrae. You come out o' there, take yourhorse and your dunnage, and git. Nobody'll hurt you."
"Is that so?" sneered Sandy. "Go plumb to blazes, will you?"
"I'll think about it," said Dade coolly.
"You'll do more than think about it if you crowd in here," Sandyretorted.
"Nobody wants to crowd you," said Dade. "We're after McHale, and we'regoin' to get him. Don't you mix up in it. If you do you may get hurt."
"That ain't such bad advice, kid," interrupted McHale. "I'm able for'em, I reckon. Better pull your freight like he tells you. This ain'tyour show, nohow, and you've got your folks to think of."
"Do you think I'm a yellow dog, or what?" Sandy snapped back, glaringat him. "Quit? I think I see myself. I'll smash this Dade's belt buckleright now." He lifted his rifle.
"Hold on," s
aid McHale. "This kid is some obstinate," he called toDade. "His _tumtum_ is that he'll stick. _I_ don't want him in it."
"He's got his chance," said Dade. "It's up to him."
Young McCrae launched a string of epithets at him, the cream of thevocabularies of certain mule skinners of his acquaintance. Meanwhilehis finger itched on the trigger.
"You're a durn poor persuader," said McHale. "The kid will stick. Far'sI'm concerned, if you want me, come and get me. Don't show your hide nomore. I'm surely done talkin' to you."
Dade turned and walked away. Sandy covered him.
"Not in the back," said McHale.
Immediately afterward a thirty-thirty struck a rock in front of them,glancing off at an angle, wailing away into the distance. Sandy McCrae,lying at full length peering along the slim barrel of his weapon,pressed the trigger and swore in disappointment.
"Centred a stump," he said. "There it is yet. It looked like somebody."
All was quiet for five minutes. Then a sleet of lead pelted theirposition, patting against the cliff behind them, and splashing upon therocks in front. Splinters and particles of stone, lead, and nickel fleweverywhere.
"Git down low," McHale advised, hugging a bowlder.
"I am down," said Sandy.
"Then dig a hole." McHale laughed, and then swore as a sharp fragmentof rock ripped his cheek.
"Hit you?"
"Nope. Rock sliver. I'll bet their guns is gettin' hot. This won'tlast."
The fusillade ceased. McHale shoved his rifle barrel through a crevice.
"Maybe some gent will stick out his head to see how many corpses thereis of us. This light's gettin' durn bad. I wish I had an ivoryforesight, 'stead o' this gold bead. I can't see----"
His rifle muzzle leaped in recoil as he spoke. Two hundred yards away aman making a rush forward for a closer position winced and half halted.Instantly Sandy's rifle lanced the dimming light with a twelve-footshaft of flame. The man straightened, staggered, and threw both armsupward as if to shield his face. Sandy fired again as the lever clashedback into place. The man fell forward.
"Got him!" cried Sandy exultantly. "Centred him twice, Tom!"
"I reckon you did. That's one out of it." He fired again withoutresult. Sandy shot three times rapidly, and swore at the light.
"You're overshootin'," said McHale. "You can't draw the foresight fineenough in this light. Hold lower."
"Nothing to hold on," grumbled McCrae. "They're cached close. If one ofthem would only come out to fetch in that dead one I wouldn't do athing to him."
McHale eyed him speculatively. "Seems like your young soul ain'tswamped by no wave of remorse at killin' a man. Don't make you feelshaky nor nothin'?"
Young McCrae smiled grimly. "Not that I can notice. All that lead theyslung at us scared remorse clean out of my system. I'm lookin' for achance to repeat."
But darkness settled down without that chance, making accurate shootingimpossible. Objects at fifty yards became indistinct. Only thesmoky-red reflection of the sunset remained.
"Think they've got enough?" asked Sandy.
"Why, they ain't got started yet. Lucky we had our supper. We can standquite a racket on a full stomach. Might as well smoke, I reckon."
Sandy shivered slightly as the chill of the mountain night air struckthrough his thin clothing. "Wish I'd grabbed a blanket or a coat."
"It'll be a heap worse before mornin'," said McHale.
"You're a cheerful devil!"
"Think of how good the sun'll feel. Maybe something will happen to warmus up before then."
A forty-pound stone suddenly crashed down to one side of them, smashingin the rocks and bushes with terrific impact. Sandy leaped to his feet,his revolver streaming continuous fire at the top of the cliff.
"Git down, you durn fool!" cried McHale.
Sandy dropped just in time. A volley came from in front, and a leadenstorm howled overhead.
"Talk about luck!" said McHale. "Don't you take a chance like thatagain." He rolled over on his back and put his rifle to his shoulder."If I could only git that cuss up there against the sky line----"
But the top of the cliff was fringed with bushes. Another stone boundeddown, struck a projection, leaped out, and hit ten feet in front ofthem. McHale fired by guess; but, like most guesswork shooting, withoutresult. Another stone struck in front. He moved in closer to the cliffand chuckled grimly.
"We're right under a ledge. Them rocks all bounced off it. Mighty luckyfor us. You feelin' any warmer now?"
"You bet. Summer done come again. I wish I could see to shoot." Hefired at the flash of a gun, and winced suddenly.
"Burned me that time!"
A glancing bullet had ripped the flesh of his left side along the ribs.McHale made a bandage of the handkerchief he wore around his neck.
"You'll sure have a sore side, kid. Keep down tight. Don't take no morechances." But a moment afterward he grunted and his rifle clatteredagainst the rocks.
"What is it?"
"My right arm. Busted above the elbow." He breathed deeply with thefirst pain throbs following the shock, and gritted his teeth. "Ain'tthis hell? I'm out of it for rifle shootin'. Here, come and cut off myshirt sleeve and tie her up some. See how much blood she's pumpin'!Take a turn above the hole and twist her up tight. Blamed if I want tobleed to death. I got a lot of things to see to first."
Sandy examined the wound by the feeble light of matches, which McHaleheld in his left hand, and declared that the arteries were uninjured.He cut off a leg of his trousers below the knee, and, with McHale'sshirt sleeve, organized a bandage, binding it with the thongs of hismoccasins, swearing steadily below his breath.
McHale leaned back against the rock and demanded his pipe. Sandy filledit, and held a match to the load. McHale puffed great smoke clouds intothe darkness.
"Tobacco's sure a fine anaesthetic. She beats chloroform and toothjerkers' gas. And now, kid, you git!"
"Do what?"
"Make a get-away. Hike. Leak out o' this. You can do it in the darkjust as easy as a weasel."
"Say," said Sandy, "you didn't get hit alongside the head, too, didyou?"
"Not yet. This is straight goods. I mean it. There's no use youstickin'. There's too many accidents happenin'. Come mornin' maybe youdon't git a chance."
"Come mornin'," Sandy replied, "when I can see my sights, I'll cleanthe whole bunch out."
"Other people can see sights then. Kid, they got me rounded up. I ain'tno good except on a horse. If I could make a get-away I would. But Ican't. You can. There's no sense in both of us bein' wiped out. Also,there's your folks. I ain't got any. And, then, I've lived longer thanyou, and I've had a heap more fun. I'm plumb satisfied with the deal.If I quit the game now I break better'n even. Shake hands and git outo' here while you can."
"Forget it!" snapped Sandy. "Would _you_ quit _me_? Not any. D'ye thinkI could look Casey in the face, or Sheila, or my old dad? Would one of_them_ quit _you_? You bet they wouldn't. I'll see this through. Here,gimme what rifle cartridges you got, and shut up that line of talk. Iwon't stand for it, and I won't go."
"'Most every family has one blame fool in it," said McHale. "All right,durn you, stay. If I could chase you out I'd do it. Reach down and pullmy belt gun for me. I can shoot left-handed some."
They passed the night miserably, waiting for an attack which did notcome. The pain of their wounds was added to the discomfort of the cold.Dawn found them shivering, numbed, weary-eyed, staring through thelifting gloom, their weapons ready. As the light grew they could seetheir own camp, but no one occupied it. Farther off a column of smokerose.
"Cookin' breakfast down in a hole," said McHale. "Playin' it plumbsafe. They ain't takin' a chance on your shootin'."
"They'd better not," said Sandy. His young face showed grimed andpinched in the growing light, but his eyes were hard and clear. "Do yous'pose I could sneak over and get a stand on them?"
"I wouldn't try. You bet somebody's keeping cases on these rocks."
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Half an hour passed, an hour. The sun struck the basin, mottling itsgreen with gold, striking their chilled bodies with grateful warmth.
"Say," asked Sandy, "don't you want a drink of water?"
"Quit foolin'," McHale replied. "I been thinkin' of it for hours. Icould drink that there lake dry."
Still nothing happened. The waiting began to get on their nerves.
"What d'you s'pose they're framing up?" Sandy asked.
"Don't know. Durn it! I can't do nothin' unless they run in on us,"McHale grumbled. "Wisht I could hold a rifle."
"Let 'em try to run in," said Sandy grimly. He had McHale's rifle inaddition to his own. "They've got to come two hundred yards withoutcover. I'll stop every blamed one of them in one hundred."
Suddenly he lifted his rifle, hesitated, and lay with his cheek to thestock, staring along the sights.
"See somethin'?" McHale asked.
"Over there past those jack pines. Man on a horse. He'll come outagain."
Far off among the trees they saw not one mounted man, but several. Theycould catch glimpses merely. The horsemen appeared to be making for thevalley, but not by the way in which they had come.
"By thunder!" cried McHale, "it looks like they're pullin' out."
His further remarks were lost in a rolling fire as Sandy unhooked hisentire magazine at the retreating figures. He caught up McHale's rifleand emptied that, too.
"Save some ca'tridges for seed," advised McHale. "What's the use ofsnapshootin' at that range? You can't hit nothin'."
"You never know what luck you'll have," said Sandy. "I couldn't draw asight with them moving in the brush. How many did you count?"
"Five--near as I could make it."
"Say, how'd it be if I went after them?"
"It'd be one durn young fool the less," McHale replied. "You want toknow when you're well off. Don't stand up yet. There may be some playto this that we don't savvy."
"Rats! They've got a bellyful, I tell you. Five's the bunch, ain'tit?--all but that one we got. I ain't going to stay cached here allday. I want some grub."
But McHale persuaded him to wait ten minutes. Then, after exposing ahat and a rolled-up coat as decoys without the least result, theyemerged from their fortress.
"Didn't rustle our hosses," said McHale. "That's luck. I wonder whatthey done with that feller you downed. Let's look at their camp."
Down in the hollow where the besiegers had built their fire they foundwhat they sought. It lay covered by a blanket. Sandy stripped thecovering away.
"Dade, by thunder!" he exclaimed. McHale looked down thoughtfully atthe dead man.
"I'm sure glad it was him," he observed. "I reckon that settles thisfeud business. That's why them fellers pulled out. It was his war, andwhen he got downed they didn't see no sense carryin' it on."
"Well, they might have buried him, anyway," Sandy grumbled.
"Maybe they figured you'd want to peel off his scalp," said McHale,with mild sarcasm. "I'm sure willing to take a little trouble likeburyin' Dade."
"So'm I," Sandy admitted, replacing the blanket. "I guess we're prettylucky. Come on while I rustle some grub. We want to pull out of here.You've got to get to a doctor as soon as you can."
They were eating breakfast when Casey, Farwell, the sheriff, and Simonrode into the basin, causing Sandy to snatch up his rifle under theimpression that their assailants were returning. The four had made thebest time they could, but had been at a loss to know the exact pointuntil Sandy's farewell fusillade.
"You sure missed a heap of fun, Casey," said McHale.
"Well, some of it didn't miss you," said Casey. "I'm blame sorry aboutthat arm, Tom. It'll be a tough ride for you."
"I'm able for it, I reckon. I wish you'd run into them fellers."
"Never saw hair nor hide of them. Just as well, maybe. Now, Tom, thisis Sheriff Dove. He wants you, and I think he wants Sandy. I told himthat you both had too much sense to make things hard for him."
"Far's I'm concerned I'm his meat," said McHale. "I'd have to come in,anyway, now. Sandy was a durn fool ever to hide out. I shouldn't havelet him. Lucky for me I did, though."
"That's sense," said the sheriff. "You boys will find I'm all right toget on with. I haven't heard you say anything, McCrae?"
"I guess I don't need to say anything," said Sandy. "Casey came alongwith you, didn't he? That's good enough for me."
"I'm right obliged to him, too," said Dove. "He's sure saved me a lotof trouble. Lemme see that arm of yours, McHale. I savvy a little aboutthem things. Anyway, I'll fix up some splints for it till you can gethold of a regular medicine man."