CHAPTER XII
THE ESCAPE
For the sixth time since the three-quarters, Phyllis looked at her watchby the light of a full moon, which shone through the window of herbedroom. The hands indicated five minutes to one.
In her stocking feet she stole out of the room, downstairs, and alongthe porch to the heavy shadows cast by the cucumber vines that screenedone end of it. Here she waited, heart in mouth and pulse beating like atrip hammer.
Presently came the mournful hoot of an owl from the live oaks over inthe pasture. Softly her clear, melodious voice flung back the signal.Again the minutes drummed eternally in silence.
But when at last this was shattered, it was with a crash to wake thedead. The girl marvelled that one man could fire so rapidly, and sooften. The night seemed to crackle with rifle and revolver shots. Tojudge from the sound, there might be a company engaged.
The expected happened. The door of the cabin, in which lay the prisonerand Tom Dixon, was flung open. A dark form filled the doorway, and themoonlight gleamed on the shining barrel of a rifle. For an instant Tomstood so, trying to locate the source of the firing. He disappeared intothe cabin, then reappeared. The door was closed and locked. Taking whatcover he could find, Tom slipped over the fence, and into the mesquiteon the other side of the road.
Phyllis darted forward like a flame. Her trembling fingers fitted a keyto the lock of the cabin. Opening the door, she slipped in and closed itbehind her.
"Where are you?" her young voice breathed.
"Over here by the fireplace. What is it all about, Miss Sanderson?"
She groped her way to him. "Never mind now. We've got to hurry. Are youtied?"
"Yes--hands and feet."
A beam of light through the window showed the flash of a knife. With afew hacks of the blade, she had freed him. He was about to rise when thedoor opened and a head was thrust in.
"What's the row, Tom?"
Weaver growled an answer. "He isn't here. Pulled out when the firingbegan. I wish you'd tell me what it is all about."
But the head was already withdrawn, and its owner scudding toward thefray. Phyllis rose from the foot of the cot, where she had crouched.
"Come!" she told the cattleman imperiously, and led the way from thecabin in a hurried flight for the porch shadows.
They had scarcely reached these when another half-clad figure emergedfrom the house, rifle in hand, and plunged across the road into thecacti. He, too, headed for the scene of the now intermittent shooting.
"Now!" cried Phyllis, and gave her hand to the man huddled beside her.
She led him into the dark house, up the stairs, and into her room. Hewould have prolonged the sweet intimacy of that minute had it been inhis power; but, once inside the chamber, she withdrew her fingers.
"Stay here till I come back," she ordered. "I must show myself, so asnot to arouse suspicion."
"But tell me--what does it mean?" demanded Buck.
"It means we're trying to save your life. Whatever happens, don't leavethis room or let yourself be seen at the window. If you do, we're lost."
With that she was gone, flying down the stairs to show herself as anapparition of terror to learn what was wrong.
She heard the returning warriors as they reached the door of the logcabin. They had thrashed through the live-oak grove and found nothing,and were now hurrying back to the prison house, full of suspicions.
"He's gone!" she heard Phil cry from within. Came then the sound ofexcited voices, and presently the shaft of light from a kerosene lamp.Feet trampled in the cabin. Phyllis heard the cot being kicked over.This moment she chose for her entrance.
"What in the world is the matter?" she asked innocently, from thedoorway.
"He's got away--we've been tricked!" Tom told her furiously.
"But--how?"
"Never mind, Phyl. Go back to your room. There may be trouble yet. ByGod, there will be if we find him, or his friends!" her father swore.
Another figure blocked the doorway. This time it was Keller, hatless andcoatless, as if he had come quickly from a hurried waking. He, too,fired blandly the inevitable: "What's the trouble?"
"Nothing--except that we are a bunch of first-class locoed fools,"snapped Tom. "We've lost our prisoner--that's what's the matter."
Larrabie came in and looked inquiringly from one to another. "I thoughtyou kept him guarded."
"We did, but they drew Tom off on a false trail," explained Phil.
"I notice they worked the rest of us, too," retorted his father tartly.
"I heard the shooting," Keller said innocently. His eyes drifted to ameeting with those of Phyllis. His telegraphed a question, and hersanswered that the prisoner was safe so far.
"A dead man could have heard it," suggested Phil, not without sarcasm."Sounded like a battle--and when we got there not a soul could be found.Beats me how they got away so slick."
Annoyance, disappointment, disgust were in the air. Keller remained tobe properly sympathetic, while Phyllis slipped back to her room, as shehad been told to do.
She found Weaver sitting by the window looking out. He turned his headquickly when she entered.
"Now, if you'll kindly tell me what's doing, I'll not die of curiosity,"he began.
"It's all your wicked men," she told him bluntly. "They have killed oneof our herders and wounded another. Mr. Keller and I met the wounded manas he was coming back to the ranch. We stopped him and took him to aneighbor's. If they had known, my people would have revenged themselveson you. They are hot-blooded men, quick to strike. I was afraid--we wereboth afraid of what they would do. So we planned your escape. Mr. Kellerslipped into the chaparral, and feigned an attack upon the ranch, todraw the boys off. I had got the other key to the cabin from the nailabove father's bed. When Tom left, I came to you. That is all."
"But what am I to do here?"
"They will scour the valley and watch the pass. If we had let you go,the chances are they would have caught you again."
"And if they had caught me, you think they would have killed me?"
"Doesn't the Bible say that he who takes the sword shall perish by thesword? Are you a god, that you should kill when you please and expect toescape the law that has been written?"
"You say I deserve death, yet you save my life."
"I don't want blood on the hands of my people."
"Personally, then, I don't count in the matter," said Weaver, with hisold sneer.
She had saved him, but her anger was hot against the slayers of poorJesus Menendez. "Why should you count? I am no judge of how great apunishment you deserve; but my father and my brother shall not inflictit, if I can help. They must not carry the curse of Cain on them."
"But Cain killed a brother," he jeered. "I am not a brother, but awolfish Amalekite. Come--the harvest is ripe. Send me forth to thereapers."
He arose as if to go; but she was at the door before him, arms extendedto block the way.
"No, no, no! Are you mad? I tell you they will kill you to-morrow, whenthe news comes."
"The judgment of the Lord upon the wicked," he answered, with hisderisive smile.
"You do nothing but mock--at your own death, at that of others. But youshan't go. I've saved you. Your life belongs to me," she cried, a littlewildly.
"If you put it that way----"
"You know what I mean," she broke in fiercely. "Don't dare to pretendto misunderstand me. I've saved you from my people. You shan't go backto them out of spite or dare-deviltry."
"Just as you say."
"I should think you'd be ashamed to be so trivial: You seem to think allour lives are planned for your amusement."
"I wish yours were planned----" He pulled himself up short. "You'reright, Miss Sanderson, I'm acting like a schoolboy. I'll put myself inyour hands. Whatever you want me to do, I'll do."
"I want you to stay here until they come back from searching for you.You may have to spend all day in this room. Nobody will come here, andyou will be
quite safe. When night comes again, we'll arrange a chancefor you to get away."
"But I'll be driving you out," he protested.
"I'm going to sleep with Anna--the daughter of our housekeeper, Mrs.Allan. She'll suppose me nervous on account of the shooting. Lock thedoor. I'll give three taps when I want to come in. If anybody elseknocks, don't answer. You may sleep without fear."
"Just a moment." He flung up a hand to detain her, then poured out in alow voice part of the feeling pent up in him. "Don't think I haven't thedecency to appreciate this. I don't care why you do it. The point isthat you have saved my life. I can't begin to tell you what I think ofthis. You'll surely have to take my thanks for granted till I get achance to prove them."
She nodded, her eyes grown suddenly shy. "That's all right, then." Andwith that she left him to himself.
Buck Weaver could not sleep for the thoughts that crowded upon him; butthey were not of his danger, great as that still was. The joy of her,and of the thing she had done, flooded him. He might pretend to cynicismto hide his deep pleasure in it; none the less, he was moved profoundly.
The night wore itself away, but before morning had broken he saw heragain. She came with her three light taps, and he opened the door tofind her in the passage with a tray of food.
"I didn't dare cook you any coffee. There's nothing hot--just whathappened to be in the pantry. Mrs. Allan won't miss it, because the boysare always foraging at all hours. She'll think one of them got hungry.Of course, I couldn't wait till morning," she explained, as she put thetray on the table.
Weaver experienced anew the stress of humility and emotion. He caught upher little hand and crushed it with a passion of tenderness in his greatfist. She looked at him in the old, startled, shy way; then snatched herhand from him, and, with a wildly beating heart, scudded along thepassage and down the back stairs.
He sank into a chair, with a groan. What use? This creature, fine assilk, the heiress of all that youth had to offer in daintiness andcharm, was not--could not be for such as he. He had gone too far on theroad to hell, ever to find such a heaven open to him.
How long he sat so, he did not know. Probably, not long, but graymorning was sweeping back the curtain of darkness when he came from hisabsorption with a start. Somebody had tapped thrice for admittance.
He arose and unlocked the door. A young woman stood outside thethreshold, peering into the semi-darkness toward him.
"Is it you, Phyl?" she asked.
The cattleman said nothing. On the spur of the moment, he could notthink of the fitting speech. The eyes of his visitor, becomingaccustomed to the dim light, saw before her the outline of a man. Shelet out a startled little scream that ended in a laugh of apology.
"It's Phil, isn't it?"
There was no way out of it. "No--it's not Phil. Come in, ma'am, and I'llexplain," said Buck Weaver.
Instead, she turned and ran headlong, along the passage, down thestairs, and into the kitchen. Here she came face to face with her youngmistress.
"What's the matter? You look as if you had seen a ghost."
"I have! At least, I've seen a man in your room."
"In my room? What were you doing there?" demanded Phyllis sharply.
"Looking for you. I wakened and found you gone. I thought--oh, I don'tknow what I thought."
Phyllis knew perfectly how it had come about. Anna Allan was a verycuriosity box and a born gossip. She had to have her little pug nose ineverybody's business.
"So you think you saw somebody in my room?" her mistress said quietly.
"I don't think. I saw him."
"Saw whom? Phil, or was it Father?" suggested the other, with a hint ofgentle scorn.
"No--he was a stranger. I think it was Mr. Weaver, but I'm not sure."
"Nonsense, Anna! Don't be foolish. What would he be doing there? I'll goand see myself. You stay here."
She went, and returned presently. "It must have been one of the boys. Iwouldn't say anything about it, Anna. No use stirring up bogeys now,when everybody is excited over the escape of that man."
"All right, ma'am. But I saw somebody, just the same," the girlmaintained obstinately.
"No doubt it was Phil. He was up to see me."
Anna said no more then; but she took occasion later to find out fromPhil, without letting him know that she was pumping him, that he hadbeen searching the hills until after six o'clock. One by one sheeliminated every man in the house as a possibility. In the end, shecould not doubt her eyes and her ears. Her young mistress had lied toher to save the man in her room.