The Light of the Western Stars by Zane Grey
X. Don Carlos's Vaqueros
Early the following morning Stewart, with a company of cowboys, departedfor Don Carlos's rancho. As the day wore on without any report fromhim, Stillwell appeared to grow more at ease; and at nightfall he toldMadeline that he guessed there was now no reason for concern.
"Wal, though it's sure amazin' strange," he continued, "I've beenworryin' some about how we was goin' to fire Don Carlos. But Gene has away of doin' things."
Next day Stillwell and Alfred decided to ride over Don Carlos's place,taking Madeline and Florence with them, and upon the return trip to stopat Alfred's ranch. They started in the cool, gray dawn, and after threehours' riding, as the sun began to get bright, they entered a mesquitegrove, surrounding corrals and barns, and a number of low, squatbuildings and a huge, rambling structure, all built of adobe and mostlycrumbling to ruin. Only one green spot relieved the bald red of groundsand walls; and this evidently was made by the spring which had givenboth value and fame to Don Carlos's range. The approach to the house wasthrough a wide courtyard, bare, stony, hard packed, with hitching-railsand watering-troughs in front of a long porch. Several dusty, tiredhorses stood with drooping heads and bridles down, their wet flanksattesting to travel just ended.
"Wal, dog-gone it, Al, if there ain't Pat Hawe's hoss I'll eat it,"exclaimed Stillwell.
"What's Pat want here, anyhow?" growled Alfred.
No one was in sight; but Madeline heard loud voices coming from thehouse. Stillwell dismounted at the porch and stalked in at the door.Alfred leaped off his horse, helped Florence and Madeline down, and,bidding them rest and wait on the porch, he followed Stillwell.
"I hate these Greaser places," said Florence, with a grimace. "They'reso mysterious and creepy. Just watch now! They'll be dark-skinned,beady-eyed, soft-footed Greasers slip right up out of the ground!There'll be an ugly face in every door and window and crack."
"It's like a huge barn with its characteristic odor permeated by tobaccosmoke," replied Madeline, sitting down beside Florence. "I don't thinkvery much of this end of my purchase. Florence, isn't that Don Carlos'sblack horse over there in the corral?"
"It sure is. Then the Don's heah yet. I wish we hadn't been in such ahurry to come over. There! that doesn't sound encouraging."
From the corridor came the rattling of spurs, tramping of boots, andloud voices. Madeline detected Alfred's quick notes when he was annoyed:"We'll rustle back home, then," he said. The answer came, "No!" Madelinerecognized Stewart's voice, and she quickly straightened up. "I won'thave them in here," went on Alfred.
"Outdoors or in, they've got to be with us!" replied Stewart, sharply."Listen, Al," came the boom of Stillwell's big voice, "now that we'vebutted in over hyar with the girls, you let Stewart run things."
Then a crowd of men tramped pell-mell out upon the porch. Stewart,dark-browed and somber, was in the lead. Nels hung close to him, andMadeline's quick glance saw that Nels had undergone some indescribablechange. The grinning, brilliant-eyed Don Carlos came jostling out besidea gaunt, sharp-featured man wearing a silver shield. This, no doubt,was Pat Hawe. In the background behind Stillwell and Alfred stood NickSteele, head and shoulders over a number of vaqueros and cowboys.
"Miss Hammond, I'm sorry you came," said Stewart, bluntly. "We're in amuddle here. I've insisted that you and Flo be kept close to us. I'llexplain later. If you can't stop your ears I beg you to overlook roughtalk."
With that he turned to the men behind him: "Nick, take Booly, go back toMonty and the boys. Fetch out that stuff. All of it. Rustle, now!"
Stillwell and Alfred disengaged themselves from the crowd to take uppositions in front of Madeline and Florence. Pat Hawe leaned against apost and insolently ogled Madeline and then Florence. Don Carlos pressedforward. His whole figure filled Madeline's reluctant but fascinatedeyes. He wore tight velveteen breeches, with a heavy fold down theoutside seam, which was ornamented with silver buttons. Round his waistwas a sash, and a belt with fringed holster, from which protruded apearl-handled gun. A vest or waistcoat, richly embroidered, partlyconcealed a blouse of silk and wholly revealed a silken scarf round hisneck. His swarthy face showed dark lines, like cords, under the surface.His little eyes were exceedingly prominent and glittering. To Madelinehis face seemed to be a bold, handsome mask through which his eyespiercingly betrayed the evil nature of the man.
He bowed low with elaborate and sinuous grace. His smile revealedbrilliant teeth, enhanced the brilliance of his eyes. He slowly spreaddeprecatory hands.
"Senoritas, I beg a thousand pardons," he said. How strange it was forMadeline to hear English spoken in a soft, whiningly sweet accent! "Thegracious hospitality of Don Carlos has passed with his house."
Stewart stepped forward and, thrusting Don Carlos aside, he called,"Make way, there!"
The crowd fell back to the tramp of heavy boots. Cowboys appearedstaggering out of the corridor with long boxes. These they placed sideby side upon the floor of the porch.
"Now, Hawe, we'll proceed with our business," said Stewart. "You seethese boxes, don't you?"
"I reckon I see a good many things round hyar," replied Hawe, meaningly.
"Well, do you intend to open these boxes upon my say-so?"
"No!" retorted Hawe. "It's not my place to meddle with property as comeby express an' all accounted fer regular."
"You call yourself a sheriff!" exclaimed Stewart, scornfully.
"Mebbe you'll think so before long," rejoined Hawe, sullenly.
"I'll open them. Here, one of you boys, knock the tops off these boxes,"ordered Stewart. "No, not you, Monty. You use your eyes. Let Boolyhandle the ax. Rustle, now!"
Monty Price had jumped out of the crowd into the middle of the porch.The manner in which he gave way to Booly and faced the vaqueros was notsignificant of friendliness or trust.
"Stewart, you're dead wrong to bust open them boxes. Thet's ag'in' thelaw," protested Hawe, trying to interfere.
Stewart pushed him back. Then Don Carlos, who had been stunned by theappearance of the boxes, suddenly became active in speech and person.Stewart thrust him back also. The Mexican's excitement increased. Hewildly gesticulated; he exclaimed shrilly in Spanish. When, however, thelids were wrenched open and an inside packing torn away he grew rigidand silent. Madeline raised herself behind Stillwell to see that theboxes were full of rifles and ammunition.
"There, Hawe! What did I tell you?" demanded Stewart. "I came over hereto take charge of this ranch. I found these boxes hidden in an unusedroom. I suspected what they were. Contraband goods!"
"Wal, supposin' they are? I don't see any call fer sech all-fired fussas you're makin'. Stewart, I calkilate you're some stuck on your new joban' want to make a big show before--"
"Hawe, stop slinging that kind of talk," interrupted Stewart. "Yougot too free with your mouth once before! Now here, I'm supposed tobe consulting an officer of the law. Will you take charge of thesecontraband goods?"
"Say, you're holdin' on high an' mighty," replied Hawe, in astonishmentthat was plainly pretended. "What 're you drivin' at?"
Stewart muttered an imprecation. He took several swift strides acrossthe porch; he held out his hands to Stillwell as if to indicate thehopelessness of intelligent and reasonable arbitration; he looked atMadeline with a glance eloquent of his regret that he could not handlethe situation to please her. Then as he wheeled he came face to facewith Nels, who had slipped forward out of the crowd.
Madeline gathered serious import from the steel-blue meaning flashof eyes whereby Nels communicated something to Stewart. Whatever thatsomething was, it dispelled Stewart's impatience. A slight movement ofhis hand brought Monty Price forward with a jump. In these sudden jumpsof Monty's there was a suggestion of restrained ferocity. Then Nelsand Monty lined up behind Stewart. It was a deliberate action, even toMadeline, unmistakably formidable. Pat Hawe's face took on an ugly look;his eyes had a reddish gleam. Don Carlos added a pale face and extremenervousness to his former expressions of agitation. The c
"I'm driving at this," spoke up Stewart, presently; and now he was slowand caustic. "Here's contraband of war! Hawe, do you get that? Arms andammunition for the rebels across the border! I charge you as an officerto confiscate these goods and to arrest the smuggler--Don Carlos."
These words of Stewart's precipitated a riot among Don Carlos and hisfollowers, and they surged wildly around the sheriff. There was anupflinging of brown, clenching hands, a shrill, jabbering babel ofMexican voices. The crowd around Don Carlos grew louder and denserwith the addition of armed vaqueros and barefooted stable-boys anddusty-booted herdsmen and blanketed Mexicans, the last of whom suddenlyslipped from doors and windows and round comers. It was a motleyassemblage. The laced, fringed, ornamented vaqueros presented a sharpcontrast to the bare-legged, sandal-footed boys and the ragged herders.Shrill cries, evidently from Don Carlos, somewhat quieted the commotion.Then Don Carlos could be heard addressing Sheriff Hawe in an exhortationof mingled English and Spanish. He denied, he avowed, he proclaimed,and all in rapid, passionate utterance. He tossed his black hair inhis vehemence; he waved his fists and stamped the floor; he rolledhis glittering eyes; he twisted his thin lips into a hundred differentshapes, and like a cornered wolf showed snarling white teeth.
It seemed to Madeline that Don Carlos denied knowledge of the boxes ofcontraband goods, then knowledge of their real contents, then knowledgeof their destination, and, finally, everything except that they werethere in sight, damning witnesses to somebody's complicity in thebreaking of neutrality laws. Passionate as had been his denial of allthis, it was as nothing compared to his denunciation of Stewart.
"Senor Stewart, he keel my Vaquero!" shouted Don Carlos, as, sweatingand spent, he concluded his arraignment of the cowboy. "Him you mustarrest! Senor Stewart a bad man! He keel my vaquero!"
"Do you hear thet?" yelled Hawe. "The Don's got you figgered fer thetlittle job at El Cajon last fall."
The clamor burst into a roar. Hawe began shaking his finger in Stewart'sface and hoarsely shouting. Then a lithe young vaquero, swift asan Indian, glided under Hawe's uplifted arm. Whatever the action heintended, he was too late for its execution. Stewart lunged out,struck the vaquero, and knocked him off the porch. As he fell a daggerglittered in the sunlight and rolled clinking over the stones. The manwent down hard and did not move. With the same abrupt violence, and amanner of contempt, Stewart threw Hawe off the porch, then Don Carlos,who, being less supple, fell heavily. Then the mob backed beforeStewart's rush until all were down in the courtyard.
The shuffling of feet ceased, the clanking of spurs, and the shouting.Nels and Monty, now reinforced by Nick Steele, were as shadows ofStewart, so closely did they follow him. Stewart waved them back andstepped down into the yard. He was absolutely fearless; but what struckMadeline so keenly was his magnificent disdain. Manifestly, he knew thenature of the men with whom he was dealing. From the look of him it wasnatural for Madeline to expect them to give way before him, which theydid, even Hawe and his attendants sullenly retreating.
Don Carlos got up to confront Stewart. The prostrate vaquero stirred andmoaned, but did not rise.
"You needn't jibber Spanish to me," said Stewart. "You can talkAmerican, and you can understand American. If you start a rough-househere you and your Greasers will be cleaned up. You've got to leave thisranch. You can have the stock, the packs and traps in the second corral.There's grub, too. Saddle up and hit the trail. Don Carlos, I'm dealingmore than square with you. You're lying about these boxes of guns andcartridges. You're breaking the laws of my country, and you're doingit on property in my charge. If I let smuggling go on here I'd beimplicated myself. Now you get off the range. If you don't I'll have theUnited States cavalry here in six hours, and you can gamble they'll getwhat my cowboys leave of you."
Don Carlos was either a capital actor and gratefully relieved atStewart's leniency or else he was thoroughly cowed by references to thetroops. "Si, Senor! Gracias, Senor!" he exclaimed; and then, turningaway, he called to his men. They hurried after him, while the fallenvaquero got to his feet with Stewart's help and staggered across thecourtyard. In a moment they were gone, leaving Hawe and his severalcomrades behind.
Hawe was spitefully ejecting a wad of tobacco from his mouth andswearing in an undertone about "white-livered Greasers." He cocked hisred eye speculatively at Stewart.
"Wal, I reckon as you're so hell-bent on doin' it up brown thet you'lltry to fire me off'n the range, too?"
"If I ever do, Pat, you'll need to be carried off," replied Stewart."Just now I'm politely inviting you and your deputy sheriffs to leave."
"We'll go; but we're comin' back one of these days, an' when we do we'llput you in irons."
"Hawe, if you've got it in that bad for me, come over here in the corraland let's fight it out."
"I'm an officer, an' I don't fight outlaws an' sich except when I hev tomake arrests."
"Officer! You're a disgrace to the county. If you ever did get irons onme you'd take me some place out of sight, shoot me, and then swear youkilled me in self-defense. It wouldn't be the first time you pulled thattrick, Pat Hawe."
"Ho, ho!" laughed Hawe, derisively. Then he started toward the horses.
Stewart's long arm shot out, his hand clapped on Hawe's shoulder,spinning him round like a top.
"You're leaving, Pat, but before you leave you'll come out with yourplay or you'll crawl," said Stewart. "You've got it in for me, man toman. Speak up now and prove you're not the cowardly skunk I've alwaysthought you. I've called your hand."
Pat Hawe's face turned a blackish-purple hue.
"You can jest bet thet I've got it in fer you," he shouted, hoarsely."You're only a low-down cow-puncher. You never hed a dollar or a decentjob till you was mixed up with thet Hammond woman--"
Stewart's hand flashed out and hit Hawe's face in a ringing slap. Thesheriff's head jerked back, his sombrero fell to the ground. As he bentover to reach it his hand shook, his arm shook, his whole body shook.
Monty Price jumped straight forward and crouched down with a strange,low cry.
Stewart seemed all at once rigid, bending a little.
"Say Miss Hammond, if there's occasion to use her name," said Stewart,in a voice that seemed coolly pleasant, yet had a deadly undernote.
Hawe did a moment's battle with strangling fury, which he conquered insome measure.
"I said you was a low-down, drunken cow-puncher, a tough as damn near adesperado as we ever hed on the border," went on Hawe, deliberately. Hisspeech appeared to be addressed to Stewart, although his flame-pointedeyes were riveted upon Monty Price. "I know you plugged that vaquerolast fall, an' when I git my proof I'm comin' after you."
"That's all right, Hawe. You can call me what you like, and you can comeafter me when you like," replied Stewart. "But you're going to get inbad with me. You're in bad now with Monty and Nels. Pretty soon you'llqueer yourself with all the cowboys and the ranchers, too. If that don'tput sense into you--Here, listen to this. You knew what these boxescontained. You know Don Carlos has been smuggling arms and ammunitionacross the border. You know he is hand and glove with the rebels. You'vebeen wearing blinders, and it has been to your interest. Take a hunchfrom me. That's all. Light out now, and the less we see of your handsomemug the better we'll like you."
Muttering, cursing, pallid of face, Hawe climbed astride his horse.His comrades followed suit. Certain it appeared that the sheriffwas contending with more than fear and wrath. He must have had anirresistible impulse to fling more invective and threat upon Stewart,but he was speechless. Savagely he spurred his horse, and as it snortedand leaped he turned in his saddle, shaking his fist. His comrades ledthe way, with their horses clattering into a canter. They disappearedthrough the gate.
* * *
When, later in the day, Madeline and Florence, accompanied by Alfred andStillwell, left Don Carlos's ranch it was not an
On the other hand, Alfred's ranch-house, where the party halted to spendthe night, was picturesquely located, small and cozy, camplike in itsarrangement, and altogether agreeable to Madeline.
The day's long rides and the exciting events had wearied her. She restedwhile Florence and the two men got supper. During the meal Stillwellexpressed satisfaction over the good riddance of the vaqueros, and withhis usual optimism trusted he had seen the last of them. Alfred, too,took a decidedly favorable view of the day's proceedings. However, itwas not lost upon Madeline that Florence appeared unusually quiet andthoughtful. Madeline wondered a little at the cause. She rememberedthat Stewart had wanted to come with them, or detail a few cowboys toaccompany them, but Alfred had laughed at the idea and would have noneof it.
After supper Alfred monopolized the conversation by describing what hewanted to do to improve his home before he and Florence were married.
Then at an early hour they all retired.
Madeline's deep slumbers were disturbed by a pounding upon the wall, andthen by Florence's crying out in answer to a call:
"Get up! Throw some clothes on and come out!"
It was Alfred's voice.
"What's the matter?" asked Florence, as she slipped out of bed.
"Alfred, is there anything wrong?" added Madeline, sitting up.
The room was dark as pitch, but a faint glow seemed to mark the positionof the window.
"Oh, nothing much," replied Alfred. "Only Don Carlos's rancho going upin smoke."
"Fire!" cried Florence, sharply.
"You'll think so when you see it. Hurry out. Majesty, old girl, now youwon't have to tear down that heap of adobe, as you threatened. I don'tbelieve a wall will stand after that fire."
"Well, I'm glad of it," said Madeline. "A good healthy fire will purifythe atmosphere over there and save me expense. Ugh! that haunted ranchogot on my nerves! Florence, I do believe you've appropriated part of myriding-habit. Doesn't Alfred have lights in this house?"
Florence laughingly helped Madeline to dress. Then they hurriedlystumbled over chairs, and, passing through the dining-room, went outupon the porch.
Away to the westward, low down along the horizon, she saw leaping redflames and wind-swept columns of smoke.
Stillwell appeared greatly perturbed.
"Al, I'm lookin' fer that ammunition to blow up," he said. "There wasenough of it to blow the roof off the rancho."
"Bill, surely the cowboys would get that stuff out the first thing,"replied Alfred, anxiously.
"I reckon so. But all the same, I'm worryin'. Mebbe there wasn't time.Supposin' thet powder went off as the boys was goin' fer it or carryin'it out! We'll know soon. If the explosion doesn't come quick now we canfigger the boys got the boxes out."
For the next few moments there was a silence of sustained and painfulsuspense. Florence gripped Madeline's arm. Madeline felt a fullness inher throat and a rapid beating of her heart. Presently she was relievedwith the others when Stillwell declared the danger of an explosionneeded to be feared no longer.
"Sure you can gamble on Gene Stewart," he added.
The night happened to be partly cloudy, with broken rifts showing themoon, and the wind blew unusually strong. The brightness of the fireseemed subdued. It was like a huge bonfire smothered by some greatcovering, penetrated by different, widely separated points of flame.These corners of flame flew up, curling in the wind, and then died down.Thus the scene was constantly changing from dull light to dark.There came a moment when a blacker shade overspread the wide area offlickering gleams and then obliterated them. Night enfolded the scene.The moon peeped a curved yellow rim from under broken clouds. To allappearances the fire had burned itself out. But suddenly a pinpoint oflight showed where all had been dense black. It grew and became long andsharp. It moved. It had life. It leaped up. Its color warmed from whiteto red. Then from all about it burst flame on flame, to leap into agreat changing pillar of fire that climbed high and higher. Huge funnelsof smoke, yellow, black, white, all tinged with the color of fire,slanted skyward, drifting away on the wind.
"Wal, I reckon we won't hev the good of them two thousand tons ofalfalfa we was figgerin' on," remarked Stillwell.
"Ah! Then that last outbreak of fire was burning hay," said Madeline."I do not regret the rancho. But it's too bad to lose such a quantity ofgood feed for the stock."
"It's lost, an' no mistake. The fire's dyin' as quick as she flaredup. Wal, I hope none of the boys got risky to save a saddle or blanket.Monty--he's hell on runnin' the gantlet of fire. He's like a hoss that'sjest been dragged out of a burnin' stable an' runs back sure locoed.There! She's smolderin' down now. Reckon we-all might jest as well turnin again. It's only three o'clock."
"I wonder how the fire originated?" remarked Alfred. "Some carelesscowboy's cigarette, I'll bet."
Stillwell rolled out his laugh.
"Al, you sure are a free-hearted, trustin' feller. I'm some doubtin' thecigarette idee; but you can gamble if it was a cigarette it belonged toa cunnin' vaquero, an' wasn't dropped accident-like."
"Now, Bill, you don't mean Don Carlos burned the rancho?" ejaculatedAlfred, in mingled amaze and anger.
Again the old cattleman laughed.
"Powerful strange to say, my friend, ole Bill means jest thet."
"Of course Don Carlos set that fire," put in Florence, with spirit. "Al,if you live out heah a hundred years you'll never learn that Greasersare treacherous. I know Gene Stewart suspected something underhand.That's why he wanted us to hurry away. That's why he put me on the blackhorse of Don Carlos's. He wants that horse for himself, and feared theDon would steal or shoot him. And you, Bill Stillwell, you're as bad asAl. You never distrust anybody till it's too late. You've been singingever since Stewart ordered the vaqueros off the range. But you surehaven't been thinking."
"Wal, now, Flo, you needn't pitch into me jest because I hev a naturalChristian spirit," replied Stillwell, much aggrieved. "I reckon I'vehed enough trouble in my life so's not to go lookin' fer more. Wal, I'msorry about the hay burnin'. But mebbe the boys saved the stock. An'as fer that ole adobe house of dark holes an' under-ground passages, solong's Miss Majesty doesn't mind, I'm darn glad it burned. Come, let'sall turn in again. Somebody'll ride over early an' tell us what's what."
Madeline awakened early, but not so early as the others, who were up andhad breakfast ready when she went into the dining-room. Stillwell wasnot in an amiable frame of mind. The furrows of worry lined his broadbrow and he continually glanced at his watch, and growled becausethe cowboys were so late in riding over with the news. He gulped hisbreakfast, and while Madeline and the others ate theirs he trampedup and down the porch. Madeline noted that Alfred grew nervous andrestless. Presently he left the table to join Stillwell outside.
"They'll slope off to Don Carlos's rancho and leave us to ride homealone," observed Florence.
"Do you mind?" questioned Madeline.
"No, I don't exactly mind; we've got the fastest horses in this country.I'd like to run that big black devil off his legs. No, I don't mind; butI've no hankering for a situation Gene Stewart thinks--"
Florence began disconnectedly, and she ended evasively. Madeline didnot press the point, although she had some sense of misgiving. Stillwelltramped in, shaking the floor with his huge boots; Alfred followed him,carrying a field-glass.
"Not a hoss in sight," complained Stillwell. "Some-thin' wrong over DonCarlos's way. Miss Majesty, it'll be jest as well fer you an' Flo to hitthe home trail. We can telephone over an' see that the boys know you'recomin'."
Alfred, standing in the door, swept the gray valley with hisfield-glass.
"Bill, I see running stock-horses or cattle; I can't make out whi
Both men hurried out, and while the horses were being brought up andsaddled Madeline and Florence put away the breakfast-dishes, thenspeedily donned spurs, sombreros, and gauntlets.
"Here are the horses ready," called Alfred. "Flo, that black Mexicanhorse is a prince."
The girls went out in time to hear Stillwell's good-by as he mounted andspurred away. Alfred went through the motions of assisting Madeline andFlorence to mount, which assistance they always flouted, and then he,too, swung up astride.
"I guess it's all right," he said, rather dubiously. "You really mustnot go over toward Don Carlos's. It's only a few miles home."
"Sure it's all right. We can ride, can't we?" retorted Florence. "Betterhave a care for yourself, going off over there to mix in goodness knowswhat."
Alfred said good-by, spurred his horse, and rode away.
"If Bill didn't forget to telephone!" exclaimed Florence. "I declare heand Al were sure rattled."
Florence dismounted and went into the house. She left the door open.Madeline had some difficulty in holding Majesty. It struck Madeline thatFlorence stayed rather long indoors. Presently she came out with soberface and rather tight lips.
"I couldn't get anybody on the 'phone. No answer. I tried a dozentimes."
"Why, Florence!" Madeline was more concerned by the girl's looks than bythe information she imparted.
"The wire's been cut," said Florence. Her gray glance swept swiftlyafter Alfred, who was now far out of earshot. "I don't like this alittle bit. Heah's where I've got to 'figger,' as Bill says."
She pondered a moment, then hurried into the house, to return presentlywith the field-glass that Alfred had used. With this she took a surveyof the valley, particularly in the direction of Madeline's ranch-house.This was hidden by low, rolling ridges which were quite close by.
"Anyway, nobody in that direction can see us leave heah," she mused."There's mesquite on the ridges. We've got cover long enough to save ustill we can see what's ahead."
"Florence, what--what do you expect?" asked Madeline, nervously.
"I don't know. There's never any telling about Greasers. I wish Bill andAl hadn't left us. Still, come to think of that, they couldn't help usmuch in case of a chase. We'd run right away from them. Besides, they'dshoot. I guess I'm as well as satisfied that we've got the job ofgetting home on our own hands. We don't dare follow Al toward DonCarlos's ranch. We know there's trouble over there. So all that's leftis to hit the trail for home. Come, let's ride. You stick like a Spanishneedle to me."
A heavy growth of mesquite covered the top of the first ridge, and thetrail went through it. Florence took the lead, proceeding cautiously,and as soon as she could see over the summit she used the field-glass.Then she went on. Madeline, following closely, saw down the slope of theridge to a bare, wide, grassy hollow, and onward to more rolling land,thick with cactus and mesquite. Florence appeared cautious, deliberate,yet she lost no time. She was ominously silent. Madeline's misgivingstook definite shape in the fear of vaqueros in ambush.
Upon the ascent of the third ridge, which Madeline remembered was thelast uneven ground between the point she had reached and home, Florenceexercised even more guarded care in advancing. Before she reached thetop of this ridge she dismounted, looped her bridle round a dead snag,and, motioning Madeline to wait, she slipped ahead through the mesquiteout of sight. Madeline waited, anxiously listening and watching. Certainit was that she could not see or hear anything alarming. The sun beganto have a touch of heat; the morning breeze rustled the thin mesquitefoliage; the deep magenta of a cactus flower caught her eye; along-tailed, cruel-beaked, brown bird sailed so close to her she couldhave touched it with her whip. But she was only vaguely aware of thesethings. She was watching for Florence, listening for some sound fraughtwith untoward meaning. All of a sudden she saw Majesty's ears were heldstraight up. Then Florence's face, now strangely white, showed round theturn of the trail.
"'S-s-s-sh!" whispered Florence, holding up a warning finger. Shereached the black horse and petted him, evidently to still an uneasinesshe manifested. "We're in for it," she went on. "A whole bunch ofvaqueros hiding among the mesquite over the ridge! They've not seen orheard us yet. We'd better risk riding ahead, cut off the trail, and beatthem to the ranch. Madeline, you're white as death! Don't faint now!"
"I shall not faint. But you frighten me. Is there danger? What shall wedo?"
"There's danger. Madeline, I wouldn't deceive you," went on Florence, inan earnest whisper. "Things have turned out just as Gene Stewart hinted.Oh, we should--Al should have listened to Gene! I believe--I'm afraidGene knew!"
"Knew what?" asked Madeline.
"Never mind now. Listen. We daren't take the back trail. We'll goon. I've a scheme to fool that grinning Don Carlos. Get down,Madeline--hurry."
Madeline dismounted.
"Give me your white sweater. Take it off--And that white hat! Hurry,Madeline."
"Florence, what on earth do you mean?" cried Madeline.
"Not so loud," whispered the other. Her gray eyes snapped. She haddivested herself of sombrero and jacket, which she held out to Madeline."Heah. Take these. Give me yours. Then get up on the black. I'll rideMajesty. Rustle now, Madeline. This is no time to talk."
"But, dear, why--why do you want--? Ah! You're going to make thevaqueros take you for me!"
"You guessed it. Will you--"
"I shall not allow you to do anything of the kind," returned Madeline.
It was then that Florence's face, changing, took on the hard, sternsharpness so typical of a cowboy's. Madeline had caught glimpses of thatexpression in Alfred's face, and on Stewart's when he was silent, andon Stillwell's always. It was a look of iron and fire--unchangeable,unquenchable will. There was even much of violence in the swift actionwhereby Florence compelled Madeline to the change of apparel.
"It 'd been my idea, anyhow, if Stewart hadn't told me to do it,"said Florence, her words as swift as her hands. "Don Carlos is afteryou--you, Miss Madeline Hammond! He wouldn't ambush a trail for any oneelse. He's not killing cowboys these days. He wants you for some reason.So Gene thought, and now I believe him. Well, we'll know for sure infive minutes. You ride the black; I'll ride Majesty. We'll slip roundthrough the brush, out of sight and sound, till we can break out intothe open. Then we'll split. You make straight for the ranch. I'll cutloose for the valley where Gene said positively the cowboys were withthe cattle. The vaqueros will take me for you. They all know thosestriking white things you wear. They'll chase me. They'll never getanywhere near me. And you'll be on a fast horse. He can take you homeahead of any vaqueros. But you won't be chased. I'm staking all on that.Trust me, Madeline. If it were only my calculation, maybe I'd--It'sbecause I remember Stewart. That cowboy knows things. Come, this heah'sthe safest and smartest way to fool Don Carlos." Madeline felt herselfmore forced than persuaded into acquiescence. She mounted the black andtook up the bridle. In another moment she was guiding her horse offthe trail in the tracks of Majesty. Florence led off at right angles,threading a slow passage through the mesquite. She favored sandy patchesand open aisles between the trees, and was careful not to break abranch. Often she stopped to listen. This detour of perhaps half a milebrought Madeline to where she could see open ground, the ranch-houseonly a few miles off, and the cattle dotting the valley. She had notlost her courage, but it was certain that these familiar sights somewhatlightened the pressure upon her breast. Excitement gripped her. Theshrill whistle of a horse made both the black and Majesty jump. Florencequickened the gait down the slope. Soon Madeline saw the edge of thebrush, the gray-bleached grass and level ground.
Florence waited at the opening between the low trees. She gave Madelinea quick, bright glance.
"All over but the ride! That'll sure be easy. Bolt now and keep yournerve!"
When Florence wheeled the fiery roan and screamed in his ear Madelineseemed suddenly to grow lax and helpless. The big horse leaped intothundering actio
He wanted to run and he was swift. Madeline loosened the reins--laidthem loose upon his neck. His action was strange to her. He was hardto ride. But he was fast, and she cared for nothing else. Madeline knewhorses well enough to realize that the black had found he was free andcarrying a light weight. A few times she took up the bridle and pulledto right or left, trying to guide him. He kept a straight course,however, and crashed through small patches of mesquite and jumped thecracks and washes. Uneven ground offered no perceptible obstacle to hisrunning. To Madeline there was now a thrilling difference in the lash ofwind and the flash of the gray ground underneath. She was running awayfrom something; what that was she did not know. But she rememberedFlorence, and she wanted to look back, yet hated to do so for fear ofthe nameless danger Florence had mentioned.
Madeline listened for the pounding of pursuing hoofs in her rear.Involuntarily she glanced back. On the mile or more of gray levelbetween her and the ridge there was not a horse, a man, or anythingliving. She wheeled to look back on the other side, down the valleyslope.
The sight of Florence riding Majesty in zigzag flight before a wholetroop of vaqueros blanched Madeline's cheek and made her grip the pommelof her saddle in terror. That strange gait of her roan was not hiswonderful stride. Could Majesty be running wild? Madeline saw onevaquero draw closer, whirling his lasso round his head, but he did notget near enough to throw. So it seemed to Madeline. Another vaqueroswept across in front of the first one. Then, when Madeline gasped inbreathless expectancy, the roan swerved to elude the attack. It flashedover Madeline that Florence was putting the horse to some such awkwardflight as might have been expected of an Eastern girl frightened out ofher wits. Madeline made sure of this when, after looking again, she sawthat Florence, in spite of the horse's breaking gait and the irregularcourse, was drawing slowly and surely down the valley.
Madeline had not lost her head to the extent of forgetting her own mountand the nature of the ground in front. When, presently, she turned againto watch Florence, uncertainty ceased in her mind. The strange featuresof that race between girl and vaqueros were no longer in evidence.Majesty was in his beautiful, wonderful stride, low down along theground, stretching, with his nose level and straight for the valley.Between him and the lean horses in pursuit lay an ever-increasing space.He was running away from the vaqueros. Florence was indeed "riding thewind," as Stewart had aptly expressed his idea of flight upon the fleetroan.
A dimness came over Madeline's eyes, and it was not all owing to thesting of the wind. She rubbed it away, seeing Florence as a flyingdot in a strange blur. What a daring, intrepid girl! This kind ofstrength--and aye, splendid thought for a weaker sister--was what theWest inculcated in a woman.
The next time Madeline looked back Florence was far ahead of herpursuers and going out of sight behind a low knoll. Assured ofFlorence's safety, Madeline put her mind to her own ride and thepossibilities awaiting at the ranch. She remembered the failure toget any of her servants or cowboys on the telephone. To be sure, awind-storm had once broken the wire. But she had little real hope ofsuch being the case in this instance. She rode on, pulling the black asshe neared the ranch. Her approach was from the south and off the usualtrail, so that she went up the long slope of the knoll toward the backof the house. Under these circumstances she could not consider it out ofthe ordinary that she did not see any one about the grounds.
It was perhaps fortunate for her, she thought, that the climb up theslope cut the black's speed so she could manage him. He was not veryhard to stop. The moment she dismounted, however, he jumped and trottedoff. At the edge of the slope, facing the corrals, he halted to lifthis head and shoot up his ears. Then he let out a piercing whistle anddashed down the lane.
Madeline, prepared by that warning whistle, tried to fortify herself fora new and unexpected situation; but as she espied an unfamiliar companyof horsemen rapidly riding down a hollow leading from the foothills shefelt the return of fears gripping at her like cold hands, and she fledprecipitously into the house.