TELL BARBARA I'M ALL RIGHT.
When Abe Lee, after twenty-six hard hours in the saddle, dismounted in
front of the San Felipe hotel and entered the lobby his usually perfect
nerves were strained almost to the breaking point. For weeks the
surveyor had carried the burden of Jefferson Worth's financial
condition as if it were his own. With the prospect of seeing the work
he loved better than his life wrecked and taken over by the Company, he
had for days faced the critical situation of the strike. Then, in the
very hour of relief, the situation had become seemingly hopeless. Abe
Lee, better than anyone, knew the temper of the Mexican and Indian
strikers. He realized fully how great the chances were that at the very
moment when he finished his ride for relief the town of Republic was
the scene of tragic violence.
If Jefferson Worth had left San Felipe ignorant of the failure of his
effort to relieve the dangerous situation at home, or if by some chance
the money so desperately needed was not ready, Abe knew that the cause
was lost. The Company would triumph.
As he entered the hotel his eyes, searching eagerly for his employer,
fell first on James Greenfield. With a movement wholly involuntary the
hand of the overwrought desert man came to rest on his hip close to the
heavy Colt's forty-five. Then he saw Jefferson Worth and Willard Holmes
moving towards him.
When a man feels himself hard-pressed in a fight and is struggling
desperately to hold his ground, he has small thought for the trifling
courtesies demanded by custom. Without returning the greetings of the
two men and instinctively drawing apart from Holmes, the surveyor shot
a single question at his employer. "Have you got it?"
"Everything is all right," answered Jefferson Worth, and with his words
something of his calm confidence went to Abe Lee.
When the two men reached Worth's apartment the surveyor, without
hesitation, began stripping off his clothes. "I want a good bath
first," he said. "And while I am at it will you please have a good
thick beefsteak cooked rare and sent up here? Then I'll sleep for a
couple of hours. That buckskin of Texas Joe's is standing in from of
the hotel. He's about all in. I wish that you would see that he is
cared for."
As he finished speaking the tall lean figure of the surveyor
disappeared through the bath room door. Mr. Worth sent the order for
his superintendent's supper to the cook with a sum of money that
insured immediate and careful attention. Then with his own hands he led
the buckskin horse to a barn where the animal would have the care he
had so well earned.
When Mr. Worth returned to the hotel he opened the door of his room
softly. There was a tray of empty dishes on the table, an odor of
cigarette smoke in the atmosphere, and in his employer's bed the
surveyor, sound asleep. Abe Lee understood the value of every moment
even in taking rest.
Two hours later Mr. Worth, going again to his room, found that the
surveyor had just finished dressing. With a smile the financier handed
Abe a slip of yellow paper. It was a message from Barbara saying that
so far all was well at home, and concluded with the words: "Love to
Abe."
Without a word Abe turned away to buckle about his hips the broad
cartridge belt with its worn holster and his big black gun. But
Barbara's father did not see him slip the bit of yellow paper into the
pocket of his blue flannel shirt.
Then Mr. Worth gave the surveyor a black leather bill-book stuffed to
its utmost capacity and secured with rubber bands. "Here it is," he
said.
Abe stored the package in an inner pocket of his khaki coat and was
ready.
At the barn they found Willard Holmes waiting with two horses. The
engineer wore a new belt, holster and revolver. When he had greeted
them he said: "Well, are we all ready? I have a lunch here. Is there
anything else?"
Abe looked at him questioningly and turned to Mr. Worth.
"Mr. Holmes is going back with you," said the banker.
For an instant the surveyor hesitated. But something in his employer's
tone caused him to withhold any objection, and with no comment he
turned to inspect the horses. The animals were of the same tough breed
as the buckskin. "They're all right, are they?" Abe asked of the
liveryman.
"You can see for yourself," came the answer. "You know the kind. The'
ain't nothin' can outlast 'em, an' Mr. Worth said that was what he
wanted."
"We will need one feed apiece," said Abe. "Put it in two sacks, you
know."
"Sure," returned the man. "I'd a-had it ready but this here gentleman
didn't tell me."
While the liveryman was preparing the grain Abe examined saddles and
cinches. "Are your stirrups right?" he asked Holmes.
"I think so."
"You'd better know. We don't want to stop to monkey around in the dark."
The barn man grinned, with a wink at the surveyor, as the engineer
decided, after trying, that he had better shorten the straps a hole.
Abe silently assisted him in adjusting them. Then--swinging into his
saddle--the surveyor said to his employer as the horses moved ahead:
"Good-by, sir. Wire little sister that I'm coming."
Along the lighted city streets they rode at a pace that seemed to
Willard Holmes more fitting for ladies' gentle exercise than for two
men bound on an errand against time. The eastern man urged his horse
ahead, but his companion held back and Holmes was forced to check his
speed and wait for the other to come up with him. To the engineer's
attempts at conversation the other answered only in monosyllables or
not at all.
There had been no opportunity for Mr. Worth to explain to Abe the
engineer's part in helping him to secure the money from Cartwright and
the consequent discharge of Holmes by Greenfield. To the surveyor's
mind his companion belonged to the enemy. He could not understand
why--with the victory or defeat of Jefferson Worth in his fight with
the Company hanging upon his superintendent's mission--the Company's
chief engineer should volunteer to accompany him. The presence of
Greenfield and Holmes in San Felipe, the action of the banks controlled
by the Company, made it clear to Abe that they understood the dangerous
situation of Mr. Worth and his urgent need of immediate relief. The
Company had everything to gain if the arrival of the money at the scene
of the strike could be delayed even for a few hours. But Abe had seen
that it was Jefferson Worth's wish that Holmes go with him and the
surveyor could not, in the presence of Holmes, discuss the question.
On his part Holmes felt the antagonism of his silent companion but
could not guess the reason, while Abe's attitude of aloofness prevented
the engineer from making any explanation. He told himself that the
surveyor was naturally over-wrought with the mental and physical strain
of his long ride, and that later, at some more opportune time, when
they halted for lunch and rest perhaps, they would come to a more
agreeable spirit of companionship.
But he could not content himself with the slow pace when there was such
evident need of haste. It was all a mistake, he thought, for the man
already wearied to undertake the return trip. A fresh rider was as
necessary as a fresh horse. The surveyor was evidently too exhausted to
push on at the necessary speed and Holmes felt that it fell upon him to
set the pace and thus force his companion to the exertion required. So
he continued urging his horse ahead while Abe's mount, held back by his
rider, tugged at the reins and grew restless, and the horse of Holmes,
now started sharply forward, now pulled down almost to a standstill,
became equally uneasy. So they rode out of the city beyond the lights
and movement of the streets into the stillness and the darkness of the
night.
At last as Holmes again touched his horse with the spur, making him
bound several lengths ahead, and again pulled him down waiting for Abe
to overtake him, the western man broke the long silence. "You'll have
to quit that, Mr. Holmes," he said somewhat sharply.
The engineer did not understand. "Quit what?"
"Breaking ahead like that. I'll set the pace for this trip."
"You don't seem to be in any hurry," retorted Holmes, nettled by the
surveyor's tone.
"I ain't. Not in that kind of a hurry."
"But look here, Abe. Don't you know that Mr. Worth expects us to make
the trip in the shortest possible time? We've got to get that money
into Republic to-morrow evening, and before if we can. There is too
much at stake to poke along like this."
Abe reflected. The Company man certainly understood the situation.
Aloud he said: "I think I know what Jefferson Worth wants, Mr. Holmes,
and I reckon you'll have to trust me to carry out his wishes. I know
the distance; I know this road; and I know horse flesh a little. At the
rate you're trying to go you'll be afoot before noon to-morrow. You can
ride your own horse down if you want to, but you can't hinder me by
fretting mine into unnecessary exertion. He'll need every ounce of his
strength and I'm going to see that he doesn't waste any of it. Either
push ahead out of sight and hearing as fast as you please, or turn
back; but if you ride with me you'll quit this monkey business and ride
quietly at the gait I set."
Willard Holmes instantly saw the force of the western man's words. "I
beg your pardon, Lee," he said. "Of course you know best. I'm so
anxious over this business that I'm acting like a fool."
After that companionship was a little easier, but under the
circumstances the one topic most on the mind of each was carefully
avoided. At midnight they stopped at the crossing of a stream to water
and feed, and Abe showed his companion how to make a nosebag out of the
sack in which his grain was carried.
Daybreak found them in the foothills. At the ranch where Abe had been
accommodated the morning before they again halted for breakfast. With
another feed for the horses tied behind their saddles, they began the
long climb of the western slope of the mountains and about four o'clock
in the afternoon had crossed over the summit and reached the spring at
the head of Devil's Canyon--the last water they would find until they
reached Wolf Wells in the desert.
When they dismounted at the watering place some two hundred yards off
the trail, the surveyor, after slipping the bit from his horse's mouth
and loosening the saddle girth, moved slowly about the little glen, his
eyes on the ground. Holmes, standing by the horses which had their
muzzles deep in the cool water, watched his companion wearily. "Lost
something?" he asked, as Abe continued moving cautiously about.
"Not yet," came the laconic reply.
"Well, what the deuce are you looking for then?"
Abe, coming back to arrange the feed for his horse, looked closely at
his companion but made no answer.
When the two men had thrown themselves on the grass to eat their lunch
the surveyor, between bites of his sandwich, carefully scanned the
mountain side and the mouth of the canyon below. Suddenly reaching out
his hand he picked up a burnt cigarette butt and regarded it intently,
while the engineer watched him with curious, amused interest.
"What the deuce is the matter, Abe? You act like one of Cooper's
Leather-Stocking heroes. What's the matter with that cigarette stub?"
The man of the desert, knowing nothing of Cooper, did not smile but
answered shortly, eyeing the engineer as he spoke: "It ain't dry. There
was a party at this watering place not more than three hours ago."
"Well, what of it? This is government property. Probably somebody ahead
of us going into the new country to locate."
"There's been nobody ahead of us all day."
"How do you know that?"
Abe shrugged his shoulders. "How do I know that a party of five or six
watered here since noon?"
"Perhaps it's someone going out."
"Did we meet anyone? This is the only trail."
"Well, maybe it was a party of prospectors or hunters. They would not
follow the road."
"They would have pack burros or mules. Nothing but horses in this
bunch. They----" The surveyor turned his head quickly to look up the
hill. His ear had caught the sound of a horse's feet on the mountain
road above.
Holmes, looking also, saw a horseman ride leisurely around the turn and
down the grade toward the canyon. Silently they watched and as the
newcomer came nearer they saw that he was a Mexican. When the traveler
reached the point where he should have turned aside to the water he did
not pause but jogged steadily past. "By George!" exclaimed Holmes, "I
believe that's one of our greasers from the outfit in Number Eight."
"I know it is," said Abe. "Perhaps you can make a guess as to what he's
doing here and why he didn't stop for water." As the surveyor spoke he
was rolling a cigarette, and from the cloud of smoke he watched the
Mexican ride down the mountain side and disappear between the narrow
walls of Devil's Canyon.
"I'm sure I don't know what he's doing. He seems to be going toward the
desert. There might be a hundred different reasons why he should have
been out somewhere."
"There's only one reason why he didn't stop for water at this place."
"What's that?"
"He had already watered."
"But there has been no chance for miles back!"
"He watered here."
Holmes spoke sharply. Abe's manner irritated him. "I don't see how you
know."
"Because this is the only water for twenty miles going either way."
"But you said you thought there was a party of five or six."
"I know there are five or six."
"Where are the others, then, if this man was one of the party?"
"I don't know exactly where they are, but I can guess."
By this time Willard Holmes had come to see that to his companion there
was a great deal more in the common-place incident than the surveyor
chose to put into words. Abe, throwing away his cigarette and rolling
another with his long-practiced fingers, seemed to be striving to
arrive at some conclusion about something that to the engineer was all
very much in the dark.
Aggravated by the reticence of his companion, Holmes burst forth with:
"For heaven's sake! Abe, open up. What's on your mind? What's the
matter anyway? What's all this about?"
Abe faced the engineer with a straight, hard look. "Don't you know what
it's all about?"
"So far as I can see it's all about nothing at all. Tell me."
"Well, Mr. Holmes, I will. But I'm not sure yet that it will be news to
you. The rest of the gang that watered here is down in Devil's Canyon
waiting for us. They were here something like three hours ago. After
watering, one of them went on over the ridge to watch for us and the
others went back down the canyon. They knew that we would stop here to
feed and water and that the lookout could jog along past, apparently
minding his own business, and tell 'em that we were coming."
"You mean it's a hold-up?" cried Holmes, in some excitement.
"That's what I would call it. Your Company would probably call it
intercepting Mr. Worth's messenger."
"The Company? What has the Company to do with it?"
"Greenfield and you were in San Felipe. You knew what I went after. You
know that the chances are big that Jefferson Worth will go to smash if
I don't make it to Republic to-night, and that greaser is a Company
man."
In a flash Holmes saw the whole situation from his companion's point of
view and understood the surveyor's suspicions. At the same time the
engineer realized that it was now too late for him to explain his
presence or that he was no longer connected with the Company. In his
perplexity and chagrin and in the suddenness of it all he said the
worst thing possible. "Well, what are you going to do about it?"
Abe's voice was hard. "I'm not going to take any fool chances. This may
be a plain ordinary case of hold-up or it may be a job framed up by the
Company simply to delay me. It's all the same to me, but this money
goes to Republic to-night. Sabe that?"
The other would have spoken but Abe interrupted.
"We've palavered long enough, Mr. Holmes. The horses have finished
their feed and it's time to start."
When they were mounted the surveyor said shortly: "Now, sir, you just
ride ahead and you ride slow until I give the word--then you go like
hell. If you lift a hand to signal or make any mistakes like stopping
to fix your saddle girth or checking up to speak to that bunch or
turning 'round, I get you first and you can't afford to have any hazy
notions about my not wanting to kill you because you're from New York.
If you're square you can make good on those Company greasers down there
and I'll apologize afterwards. If you're in this deal with your damned
Company, you'll stop drawing your salary right here and there won't be
any funeral expenses for them to pay either! Go ahead."
"Just a word first," and Abe saw that the engineer was as cool as a
veteran. "Granting that you are right about that crowd being down there
to stop us, if anything should happen to you tell me how to get into
Republic with the money. You will be taking no chances with that at
least."
"Follow the trail to the telephone line. You know it from there.
There's water at Wolf Wells. Give your horse a drink but don't wait to
rest. You can push him from now on as hard as you like. You should make
it to Republic in six hours from here. Give the money to Miss Worth.
Anything else?"
Holmes replied by turning in his saddle and moving ahead. Abe followed,
his horse's nose even with the flank of the animal in the lead.
Easily they jogged ahead down the grade toward the narrow throat of the
canyon. A hundred yards from where two points of jutting rock in the
walls of the mountain hallway leave an opening not more than fifty feet
wide, Holmes, with the slightest turn of his head, spoke, over his
shoulder. "I see a man's face looking around that point of rock on the
right."
"Be ready when I give the word."
"Won't they pot us?"
"Not if they can get the drop. They'll turn us loose on the desert."
"Shall I shoot?"
Behind the engineer's back Abe smiled grimly. "When they halt us and I
give the word, cut loose if you want to. I'll take all on the left."
The distance lessened to a hundred feet.
Suddenly from the left three mounted Mexicans pushed into the road and
from the right two more.
Even as they threw up their guns and called: "Alto--Halt!" Abe gave the
word:
"Now!"
The two white men drove their spurs deep into their horses' flanks,
throwing themselves forward in their saddles with the same motion. With
mad plunges the animals leaped toward the highwaymen. Even as he spoke
Abe's gun had cracked thrice in quick succession--the Mexicans firing
at about the same instant. Two of the horsemen on the left went down
and the surveyor reeled almost out of his saddle. But Holmes did not
see. His own revolver barked a prompt second to Abe's, and on his side
a Mexican went over clutching at his saddle horn. The horses of the
Mexicans were rearing and plunging. The quick reports of the revolvers
echoed viciously from the rocky walls.
But the white men went through. Down the rocky hallway they raced, side
by side now, as hard as their maddened horses could run. A moment to
slip fresh cartridges into his cylinder and Holmes cried to his
companion: "Good stuff, old man! Go on; I'll hold 'em." And before Abe
could grasp his purpose he had jerked his horse to his haunches and,
wheeling, faced back up the canyon and disappeared around a turn.
Even as the surveyor was trying to check his own horse--a tough-mouthed
brute--another rattling volley of revolver shots echoed down the
canyon. By the time Abe had succeeded in turning his stubborn mount
Holmes re-appeared.
"All over!" the engineer sang out, as his companion wheeled again and
rode beside him. "Two of 'em were coming after us. I got one and the
other turned tail." He winced with pain as he spoke. "They presented me
with a little souvenir, though."
Abe saw that his left arm was swinging loosely. "You are hurt," he said
sharply, reining up his horse. "Where is it?"
"Here, in my shoulder. It don't amount to anything. Let's get on to
water and I'll fix it up." With the word the engineer, whose mount had
also stopped, started ahead. The horse went a few steps and
stumbled--struggled to regain his feet--staggered weakly a few steps
farther--stumbled again--and went down. As he fell Holmes sprang clear.
The animal raised his head, made another attempt to rise and dropped
back. Another bullet from the last encounter had found a mark.
The dismounted engineer, who stood as if dazed, staring at his dead
horse, was aroused by the voice of Abe Lee. "It looks like we'd got all
that was coming to us this trip."
At his companion's tone Holmes looked up quickly. The surveyor's lips
were white and his face was drawn with pain.
The man on the ground sprang toward him with a startled exclamation.
"You too; Abe! Where is it?"
"My leg, on the other side."
Quickly the engineer went around Lee's horse to find the leg of the
surveyor's khaki trousers darkly stained with blood. "Get down," he
commanded and, reaching with his uninjured arm, almost lifted his
companion from the saddle. An examination revealed an ugly hole in the
surveyor's thigh. With handkerchiefs and some strips cut from the
engineer's coat they dressed their wounds as best they could. When they
had finished, Holmes straightened up and looked around. Behind them was
the bold mountain wall, grim and forbidding; on either hand the dry,
barren Mesa; and ahead the miles and miles of desert.
As if in answer to his thoughts the man on the ground said grimly:
"This is hell now, ain't it? Mr. Holmes, I'll make that apology. If you
please, would you mind shaking hands with me?"
Willard Holmes grasped the out-stretched hand cordially. "You did just
right, old man. It was the only thing you could do. But I want to tell
you quick, before anything else happens, that I'm not a Company man any
more."
"Not a Company man?'
"Greenfield fired me because I helped Jefferson Worth to interest the
capitalist who is furnishing him the money he needs."
For a moment Abe Lee looked at the engineer in silence; then his pale
lips twisted into a smile. "Mr. Holmes, would you mind shaking hands
again?"
With a laugh the engineer once more held out his hand. Then he asked
seriously: "How are we going to get out of this, Abe?"
The smile was already gone from the surveyor's face. He answered
slowly, with dogged determination in his voice. "We've got to get this
money to Republic to-night. It's the only thing that will stop those
cholos and Cocopahs. We'll make it to water together, then you can go
on. Help me up!"
With the engineer's assistance Abe managed to gain his seat in the
saddle, Holmes mounting behind, and thus they made their way down into
the Basin and to Wolf Wells.
[Illustration: "Adios. Tell Barbara I'm all right"]
There Holmes helped his companion from the horse and to the shade of a
mesquite tree near the water hole, where he stood over him as he lay on
the ground, protesting vigorously against leaving him alone in the
desert. But the surveyor argued him down. "I couldn't possibly make it
if we had another horse," he said. "I'm down and out. There'll be hell
to pay in Republic to-night, even if the boys have held them off this
long. The money's got to get there this evening. You can reach there by
ten o'clock and send a wagon back for me. Don't you see there's no
other way?" He held out the black leather bill-book with the rubber
bands. "Here, take this and go on. Go on, man! What's a night in the
desert to me?"
"But those greasers may come this way."
"They won't. But if they should I have my gun, haven't I, and I'll see
them before they see me. Go on, I tell you. We've lost too much time
already. Think of that mob and Barbara. You've got to go, Holmes."
The engineer turned towards his horse. "Good-by, old man."
"Adios. Tell Barbara I'm all right."
Abe Lee watched the loping horse grow smaller and smaller in the
distance, then watched the cloud of dust that lifted from the trail to
hang all golden in the last of the light. Turning he saw the summit of
the mountain wall sharply defined against the sky. With a groan his
form relaxed. He closed his eyes. He was indeed down and out.
The desert night fell softly over the wide, thirsty plain. The snarling
coyote chorus came out of the gloom. Out there Willard Holmes was
riding--riding--riding--along the old San Felipe trail. Away over
there, somewhere under those stars, Barbara was waiting his return. He
remembered her parting words and how he had failed to find in her eyes
that which he had longed to see. He felt for the paper in the pocket of
his shirt: "Love to Abe." She would never have sent that message had
her love been other than it was. Abe Lee, born and reared in the
desert, was not the kind of man to deceive himself. For his work and
for the woman whose life was so strangely and closely bound up with it
he had given the utmost limit of his strength. And now another man
would finish the ride and go to her with the prize. Not that it would
make any difference to Barbara, but somehow it mattered a great deal to
Abe.
Willard Holmes, who in spite of his splendid strength had not the
desert man's powers of endurance, clung grimly to one thought--the
money must go to Republic. The steady rhythm of his horse's feet seemed
to beat out the word: "Barbara! Barbara! Barbara!"
The trying scene with Greenfield, the long hard hours in the saddle,
the excitement of the fight in the canyon, with his anxiety for his
wounded companion left alone in the desert, were almost too much. Could
he hold out? Could he make it? He _must_.
The engineer held his seat with the strength of desperation. He _must!_
The money must go to Republic that night--to Barbara! Barbara! Barbara!
The horse's feet seemed to have beaten out the word for ages. For ages
he had been riding--riding--riding towards some point out there ahead
in the desert night.
The engineer knew now what it was that called him back.