The Mountain Divide

  CHAPTER XVIII

  The two men, aided by the crew of the train that now came down theBitter Creek grade, got the dead body of the outlaw back to Point ofRocks just as a mixed train from the east reached there, with Stanleyand a detail of cavalry aboard. Stanley walked straight to Bucks,caught him by the shoulders, and shook him as if to make sure he wasall right.

  "Gave you a warm reception, did they, Bucks?"

  "Moderately warm, colonel."

  Stanley shook his head. "It is all wrong. They never should have sentyou out here alone," he declared brusquely. "These superintendentsseem to think they are railroading in Ohio instead of the RockyMountains. Dave," he continued, turning to Hawk as the latter came up,"I hear you have just brought in Perry dead. What have we got here,anyway?"

  "Some of the Medicine Bend gang," returned Hawk tersely.

  "What are they doing?"

  "Evening up old scores, I guess."

  Stanley looked at the dead man as they laid him out on the platform:"And hastening their own day of reckoning," he said. "There shall beno more of this if we have to drive every man of the gang out of thecountry. Who do you think was with Perry, Bob?" he demanded,questioning Scott.

  "There is nothing to show that till we get them--and we ought to beafter them now," returned the scout. "But," he added softly as hehitched his trousers, "I think one of the two might be young JohnRebstock."

  "You need lose no time, Bob. Here are ten men with fresh horses atyour orders." Stanley pointed to the troopers who were unloading theirmounts.

  "Give Dave and me three of the best of these men," said Scott. "I willfollow the west trail. Put a sergeant with the others on the traileast to make sure they haven't doubled back on us--but I don't thinkthey have."

  "Why?"

  "They must have stolen that team and wagon, that is certain. More thanlikely they murdered the man they took it from. The trail is probablyalive with men looking for them. These fellows were trying to get toCasement's camp for gambling, and probably they are heading that wayfast now. We will pick those fellows up, colonel, somewhere betweenhere and Bridger's Gap."

  The three troopers that Scott selected were told off and, after a fewrapid arrangements for sending back information, the five men of thewest-trail party, headed by Scott and Dave Hawk, rode down BitterCreek and, scattering in a wide skirmish line wherever the formationof the country permitted, scanned the ground for signs of thefugitives.

  "We shan't find anything till we get to where they were when the rainstopped," Scott told the trooper near whom he was riding. It was, infact, nearly ten miles from Point of Rocks before they picked up thefootprints of two men travelling apart from each other, but headednorth and west. These they followed on a long detour away from theregular wagon road until the two trails turned and entered, from thesouthwest, a camp made the night before by a big trading outfit on theregular overland trail.

  Here, of course, all trace of the men disappeared. It was now drawingtoward evening. Scott resolved to follow the trading outfit, but theparty still rode slowly to make sure the men they wanted did not sneakaway from the wagons of their new-found friends. The pursuers rodesteadily on, and as the sun went down they perceived in a small canyonahead of them the wagons of the outfit they were trailing, parked in acamp for the night.

  Scott gave the troopers directions as to where to post themselves, atsome distance east and west of the canyon, to provide against a sortieof the fugitives and, riding with Hawk directly into the camp, askedfor the boss. He appeared after some delay and proved to be a Frenchtrader with supplies for Salt Lake.

  Hawk, whose long visage and keen eyes gave him a particularlystern air--and David Hawk was never very communicative or verywarm-mannered--asked the questions. The Frenchman was civil, butdenied having any men with him except those he had brought fromthe Missouri River. However, he offered to line up his men for therailroad party to look over. To this Hawk agreed, and, when theword had been passed, the entire force of the trader were assembledin front of the head wagon.

  Scott rode slowly up the line scrutinizing each face, and, turningagain, rode down the line. Once he stopped and questioned asuspicious-looking teamster wearing a hat that answered Bucks'sdescription, but the man's answers were satisfactory.

  When Scott had finished his inspection the men started to disband.Hawk stopped them. "Stay where you are," he called out curtly. Turningto the Frenchman, he added: "We will have to search your wagons."

  Again the trader made no objection, though some of his men did.

  The three troopers were signalled in, and posted so there could be nododging from one wagon to another, and Hawk gave them orders, loudenough for all to hear, to shoot on sight any one leaving the wagons.And while he himself kept command of the whole situation, Scottdismounted and accompanied by the trader began the search. The huntwas tedious and the teamsters murmured at the delay to their campwork. But the search went forward unrelentingly. Not a corner capableof concealing a dog was overlooked by the painstaking Indian and notuntil he had reached the last wagon was his hope exhausted.

  This wagon stood at the extreme end of a wash-out in the side of thecanyon itself. It was filled with bales of coarse red blankets, but noman was to be found among them.

  Scott did find something, however, in a sort of a nest fashioned amongthe bales near the middle of the wagon. What would have escaped an eyeless trained to look for trifles attracted his at once. It was a dingymetal tag. Scott picked it up. It bore the name of a Medicine Bendsaloon and the heads of three horses, from the design of which thesaloon itself took a widely known and ill name. He laid his hand onthe blanket from which he had picked the tag. The wool was stillwarm.

  Scott only smiled to himself. Both ends of the little canyon wereguarded. From where he was searching the scout peered carefully out atthe canyon walls. There were hiding-places, but they were hardly largeenough to conceal a man. It was somewhere in the rocks close at handthat the fugitives had found a temporary refuge; but they could notnow escape--nor could they be far from the wagon.

  Without losing sight of the surroundings, Scott, disclosing nothing ofhis discovery to the trader, announced that he was satisfied and thatthe men he wanted did not appear to be there. He added, however, thatif the Frenchman had no objection his party would pitch camp close byand ride with him in the morning. The Frenchman maintained hiscourtesy by inviting the party to take supper with him, and Scott,agreeing to return, rode away with Hawk and the three troopers.

  They had not ridden far, when Bob dismounted the party and leavingthe horses with one trooper set two as pickets and posted himself inhiding on one side the canyon, with Hawk on the other, to watch thecamp. What he saw or whether his patience was in any degree rewardedno one could have told from his inscrutable face as he walked into thecamp at dusk and sat down with the trader to supper. The moon was justrising and down at the creek, a little way from where Scott sat, somebelated teamsters were washing their hands and faces and preparingtheir own supper. Scott ate slowly and with his back to the fire kepthis eye on the group of men down at the creek. When he had finished,he walked down to the stream himself. A large man in the group fitted,in his hat and dress, Bucks's exact description. Scott had alreadyspotted him an hour before, and stepped up to him now to arrest youngJohn Rebstock.

  He laid his hand on the man's shoulder and the man turned. But toScott's surprise he was not the man wanted at all. He wore Rebstock'sclothes and fitted Rebstock's description, but he was not Rebstock.The scout understood instantly how he had been tricked, but gave nosign.

  Within the preceding thirty minutes the real Rebstock, whom Scott hadalready marked from his hiding-place in the canyon, had traded clotheswith this man and, no doubt, made good his escape.

  If Bob was chagrined, he made no sign.

  "You must have made a good trade," he said, smiling at the teamster."These clothes are a little big, but you will grow to them. How muchboot did you get?"

  Scott looked so slight a
nd inoffensive that the teamster attemptedinsolence, and not only refused to answer questions, but threatenedviolence if the scout persisted in asking them. His companionscrowding up encouraged him.

  But numbers were not allowed for an instant to dominate the situation.Scott whipped a revolver from his belt, cocked it, and pressed itagainst the teamster's side. Dave Hawk loomed up in the moonlight and,catching by the collar one after another of the men crowding aroundScott, Hawk, with his right hand or his left, whirled them spinningout of his way. If a man resisted the rough treatment, Hawkunceremoniously knocked him down and, drawing his own revolver, tookhis stand beside his threatened companion.

  Other men came running up, the trader among them. A few wordsexplained everything and the recalcitrant teamster concluded to speak.Scott, indeed, had but little to ask: he already knew the whole story.And when the teamster, threatened with search, pulled from his pocketa roll of bank-notes which he acknowledged had been given him forconcealing the two fugitives and providing them with clothes, Scottreleased him--only notifying the trader incidentally that the man wasrobbing him and had loot, taken from the ammunition wagon, concealedunder his blanket bales just searched. This information led to newexcitement in the camp, and the Frenchman danced up and down in hiswrath as he ordered the blanket wagon searched again. But hisexcitement did not greatly interest Scott and his party. They wenttheir way and camped at some distance down the creek from theirstirred-up neighbors.

  Hawk and Bob Scott sat in the moonlight after the troopers had gone tosleep.

  "They can't fool us very much longer," muttered Scott, satisfied withthe day's work and taking the final disappointment philosophically,"until they can get horses they are chained to the ground in thiscountry. There is only one place I know of where there are any horseshereabouts and that is Jack Casement's camp."

  Hawk stretched himself out on the ground to sleep. "I'll tell you,Dave," continued Scott, "it is only about twenty miles from here toCasement's, anyway. Suppose I ride over there to-night and wireStanley we've got track of the fellows. By the time you pick up thetrail in the morning I will be back--or I may pick it up myselfbetween here and the railroad. You keep on as far as Brushwood Creekand I'll join you there to-morrow by sundown."

  It was so arranged. The night was clear and with a good moon the ridewas not difficult, though to a man less acquainted with the mountainsit would have been a hardship. Mile after mile Scott's hardy ponycovered with no apparent effort. Bob did not urge him, and beforemidnight the white tents of the construction camp were visible in themoonlight. Scott went directly to the telegraph office, and aftersending his message hunted up food and quarters for his beast and asleeping-bunk for himself.

  At daylight he was astir and sought breakfast before making inquiriesand riding back to his party. On the edge of the camp stood a sort ofrestaurant, made up of a kitchen tent with a dismantled box-car bodyas an annex.

  In this annex the food was served. It was entered from one side door,while the food was brought from the kitchen through the other sidedoorway of the car.

  Into this crowded den Bob elbowed an unobtrusive way and seatedhimself in a retired corner. He faced the blind end of the car, andbefore him on the wall was tacked a fragment of a mirror in which hecould see what was going on behind him. And without paying anyapparent attention to anything that went on, nothing escaped him.

  Next to where he sat, a breakfast of coffee and ham and eggs had beenalready served for somebody, apparently on an order previously given.At the opposite end of the car a small space was curtained off as awash-room. Scott ordered his own breakfast and was slowly eating itwhen he noticed through the little mirror, and above and beyond theheads of the busy breakfasters along the serving-counter, a large manin the wash-room scrubbing his face vigorously with a towel.

  Each time Scott looked up from his breakfast into the mirror the manredoubled his efforts to do a good job with the towel, hiding his facemeantime well within its folds. The scout's curiosity was mildlyenough aroused to impel him to watch the diligent rubbing with someinterest. He saw, too, presently that the man was stealing glances outof his towel at him and yet between times intently rubbing his face.

  This seemed odd, and Scott, now eying the man more carefully, notedhis nervousness and wondered at it. However, he continued to enjoy hisown meal. The waiter who had served him, hurried and impatient, alsonoticed the waiting breakfast untouched and called sharply to the manin the wash-room that his ham was served and, with scant regard forfine words, bade him come eat it.

  This urgent invitation only added to the ill-concealed embarrassmentof the stalling guest; but it interested the scout even more in thedeveloping situation. Scott finished his breakfast and gave himselfentirely over to watching in a lazy way the man who was making soelaborate a toilet.

  There was no escape from either end of the car. That could be managedonly through the side doors, which were too close to Scott to beavailable, and the scout, now fairly well enlightened and prepared,merely awaited developments. He wanted to see the man come to hisbreakfast, and the man in the wash-room, combing his hair with vigorand peering anxiously through his own scrap of a mirror at Bob Scott,wanted to see the scout finish his coffee and leave the car. Scott,however, pounding ostentatiously on the table, called for a second cupof coffee and sipped it with apparent satisfaction. It was a game ofcat and mouse--with the mouse, in this instance, bigger than the cat,but as shy and reluctant to move as any mouse could be in a cat'spresence. Scott waited until he thought the embarrassed man would havebrushed the hair all out of his head, and at last, in spite ofhimself, laughed. As he did so, he turned half-way around on his stooland lifted his finger.

  "Come, Rebstock," he smiled, calling to the fugitive. "Your breakfastis getting cold."

  The man, turning as red as a beet, looked over the heads of those thatsat between him and his tantalizing captor. But putting the best facehe could on the dilemma and eying Scott nervously he walked over and,with evident reluctance, made ready to sit down beside him.

  "Take your time," suggested Scott pleasantly. Then, as Rebstock, quitecrestfallen, seated himself, he added: "Hadn't I better order a hotcup of coffee for you?" He took hold of the cup as he spoke, andlooked hard at the gambler while making the suggestion.

  "No, no," responded Rebstock, equally polite and equally insistent, ashe held his hand over the cup and begged Scott not to mind. "This isall right."

  "How was the walking last night?" asked Scott, passing the fugitive abig plate of bread. Rebstock lifted his eyes from his plate for thebriefest kind of a moment.

  "The--eh--walking? I don't know what you mean, captain. I slept herelast night."

  Scott looked under the table at his victim's boots. "John," he askedwithout a smile, "do you ever walk in your sleep?"

  Rebstock threw down his knife and fork. "Look here, stranger," hedemanded with indignation. "What do you want? Can't a man eat hisbreakfast in this place? I ask you," he demanded, raising his righthand with his knife in it as he appealed to the waiter, "can't a maneat his breakfast in this place without interruption?"

  The waiter, standing with folded arms, regarded the two men withoutchanging his stolid expression. "A man can eat his breakfast in thisplace without anything on earth except money. If you let your ham getcold because you were going to beat me out of the price, and you tryto do it, I'll drag you out of here by the heels."

  These unsympathetic words attracted the attention of every one and thebreakfasters now looked on curiously but no one offered to interfere.Quarrels and disputes were too frequent in that country to make itprudent or desirable ever to intervene in one. A man consideredhimself lucky not to be embroiled in unpleasantness in spite of hisbest efforts to keep out. Rebstock turned again on his pursuer. "Whatdo you want, anyhow, stranger?" he demanded fiercely. "A fight, Ireckon."

  "Not a bit of it. I want you, Rebstock," explained Scott without inthe least raising his voice.

  Rebstock's throaty tones seemed to co
ntract into a wheeze. "What doyou want me for?" he asked, looking nervously toward the other end ofthe car. As he did so, a man wearing a shirt and new overalls rose andstarted for the door. The instinct of Scott's suspicion fasteneditself on the man trying to leave the place as being Rebstock's wantedcompanion.

  Rising like a flash, he covered the second man with his pistol. "Holdon!" he exclaimed, pointing at him with his left hand. "Come overhere!"

  The man in overalls turned a calm face that showed nothing more thanconscious innocence. But Scott was looking at his feet. His worn shoeswere crusted heavily with alkali mud. "What do you want with me?"snarled the man halted at the door.

  "I want you," said Scott, "for burning Point of Rocks station nightbefore last. Here, partner," he continued, speaking to the waiter."I'll pay for these two breakfasts; search that man for me," hecontinued, pointing to the man in the overalls.

  "Search him yourself," returned the waiter stolidly. Scott turned likea wolf.

  "What's that?" Another expression stole over his good-natured face.Holding his revolver to cover any one that resisted, he turned hisaccusing finger upon the insolent waiter. "You will talk to me, willyou?" he demanded sharply. "Do as I tell you instantly, or I'll driveyou out of camp and burn your shack to the ground. When I talk to you,General Jack Casement talks, and this railroad company talks. Searchthat man!"

  Before the last word had passed his lips the waiter jumped over thecounter and began turning the pockets of the man in the new overallsinside out. The fellow kept a good face even after a bunch of stolenrailroad tickets were discovered in one pocket. "A man gave them to melast night to keep for him," he answered evenly.

  "Never mind," returned Scott with indifference, "I will take care ofthem for him."

  The news of the capture spread over the camp, and when Scott with histwo prisoners walked across to General Casement's tent a crowdfollowed. Stanley had just arrived from Point of Rocks by train andwas conferring with Casement when Scott came to the tent door. Hegreeted Bob and surveyed the captured fugitives.

  "How did you get them?" he demanded.

  Scott smiled and hung his head as he shook it, to anticipatecompliments. "They just walked into my arms. Dave Hawk and thetroopers are looking for these fellows now away down on Bitter Creek.They wandered into camp here last night to save us the trouble ofbringing them. Isn't that it, Rebstock?"

  Rebstock disavowed, but not pleasantly. He was not in amiable mood.

  "What show has a fat man got to get away from anybody?" he growled.