THE DISCOVERY
“Hawk Murray!” exclaimed Elfreda Briggs, as one of the horsemen rode
around the hedge and up to the door of the cabin. Elfreda recognized
the man by his long hooked nose that really resembled the beak of a
hawk. It was not a pleasant face to look upon.
“Mornin’, Miss,” he greeted, with an attempt at politeness.
“Good morning, sir,” replied Miss Briggs firmly, essaying a smile as
she said it, though she did not feel like smiling, for the eyes of
the rider seemed to be searching her very soul.
“Do ye live here?” was the next question.
“For the present, yes.”
“Ye don’t reckon ye’ve seen a stranger on a bay mare passin’ here
this mornin’, do ye?” he questioned, leaning over and peering into
the face of the Overland girl.
“No, sir. No one has passed here, so far as I know, since daylight.
I don’t know who passed before that. Why do you ask?”
“We’re a posse on the track of a hoss thief. The bay mare he rode
was stole, and some gold he had was stole, too.”
“Indeed!” observed Elfreda.
“We trailed the thief this way, but back a piece we kind of lost the
trail,” volunteered the Hawk, grinning apologetically. “Be ye
alone?”
“Oh, no. I am with a party. They are not here now, but I look for
them to arrive shortly,” she answered, trying hard not to appear
disturbed.
“Well, so long. We’ll be on our way.” The man swung off his hat and,
wheeling his horse about, jogged along. Her heart sank as she saw
that the riders were taking a direction, which, if followed on,
would lead perilously close to the spot at which she had secreted
Sam Petersen’s horse. She regarded each man keenly as they passed
her, and theirs she saw on close inspection were hard, callous,
reckless faces. There was coldness, there was daring, in them.
The last man in the line, younger than his companions, while his
face was also cold, appeared to be of a character different from the
others. There was a poise of the head, a grace in riding, and in the
manner with which he bowed as he swung his hat low, that singled him
out as a man somewhat above his fellows, in intelligence at least.
The riders were out of sight in a moment, and, with their passing,
Elfreda Briggs’ knees grew suddenly weak. She staggered into the
cabin and sat down heavily.
“Had they come in I don’t know what I should have done,” murmured
the girl, placing a hand on the diary that she had hidden in her
blouse. The bag of nuggets and “dust” lay in plain sight near the
bunk on which Sam Petersen lay. Elfreda hurriedly sprang up and
secreted the bag under the blankets. Then a sudden thought came to
her. She recalled that the old prospector wore a holster, and that
she had noticed the size of the revolver butt that protruded from
it. Instant determination to possess herself of the weapon seized
her.
“They will return! I feel it!” she cried.
It took but a moment to get the weapon and the cartridge belt, to
both of which the girl gave critical inspection, for Elfreda had
handled revolvers, both in France in wartime, and on their annual
summer outings in the saddle. The weapon was loaded, and several
rounds of cartridges still remained in the belt.
“There!” she exclaimed, after strapping the holster on. “I at least
have the means of defending myself. Hark!”
Hoof-beats were plainly audible, but they seemed to be those of only
one horse. A glance through the doorway, without revealing herself,
verified this.
“It’s the good-looking one,” breathed Elfreda, retiring into the
shadows and giving her holster a shift. “I must go out. It never
will do to let that man come into the cabin,” she decided as she
stepped to the door with an expression of surprised inquiry in her
eyes.
“Ye didn’t think I’d be back so soon, did ye?” he grinned.
“I don’t think I looked for you to return,” Elfreda replied. “What
is it you wish?”
“I reckoned as I’d like a drink of water.”
“Wait. I will fetch a dipper. The spring is just beyond the stump
over yonder.” Elfreda was out with a dipper in her hand in a moment,
and held it up to him, but the rider did not take it. He swung from
the saddle and stood leaning against his mount, regarding her with
something like a twinkle in his eyes. Elfreda saw that twinkle and
was reassured.
“I see ye’ve got your hardware on,” he said, pointing to the
revolver. “Purty sizable gun for a lady, eh? Ye didn’t have it on
when I was here before.”
“Perhaps I was expecting more company after you went off. Why do you
ask?”
The rider shrugged his shoulders.
“Reckon I’ll take that dipper now,” he said, extending a hand for
it. Elfreda gave it to him, and keen as his eyes were, it is
doubtful if he discovered the fear that Elfreda felt. After stepping
back she got a broom and began sweeping up the cabin floor, which
she was still doing when the man returned from the spring. Hearing
him coming, she stepped outside.
“Thankee,” he said, returning the dipper.
“What would ye say, lady, if I told ye I wanted to search the
shack?” he asked.
“I should say _no!_” was the emphatic reply.
“And what if I decided to do it anyhow?” grinned the mountain rider.
“I’d shoot you!” she answered coldly.
“Sufferin’ cats! I believe ye would. Never can tell what these quiet
kind might do. Can I have a look at the little toy?” he teased.
“You may look at the muzzle, if you wish.”
The fellow laughed and slapped his thigh.
“Ye’re a cool one, I’ll tell them all.”
“Thank you.” Elfreda was covertly watching every movement of her
caller, every expression of face and eyes, and she could not but
feel that he was unusually confident about something. Rack her brain
as she might, she could not think what that something might be,
unless Hawk’s party had discovered the bay mare, which she did not
believe was a fact, for the party had swerved off to the right after
leaving the vicinity of the forest cabin.
“If I reckerlect, lady, ye told the boss that ye hadn’t seen any
strangers hereabouts—a fellow on a bay mare, an old party and a
tough one.”
“I told you no one had passed here, and to the latter part of your
question I am free to say that your party included the only ‘tough
ones’ I have seen since coming into the forest.”
“So! I reckon I see the p’int. Lady, what about that saddle over
there in the brush?”
Elfreda could feel her face going pale.
“The—the saddle!” she gasped, but instantly recovered herself. “What
saddle do you mean?”
“I mean Sam Petersen’s saddle. I’d know that leather among all the
rest in the Cascade range. He stole that, too. Now where’s the bay
mare? He sure didn’t ride her away without the saddle.”
“Find him, if you want to know. Don’t ask me! As for the saddle that
you say is over yonder in the brush, draw whatever conclusions you
wish. Is that all? If so, I have work to do and will go to it,”
announced J. Elfreda with great dignity.
“I reckon that’s ’bout all, ’cept that I’d like to look over that
shack.”
“Very well, you may step up to the door and look in, but no farther
if you value your life,” replied Elfreda, turning her back on him
and stepping through the doorway.
The visitor was not slow to accept the invitation. He reached the
threshold, and was about to stride into the cabin when he suddenly
found himself facing the old prospector’s revolver, held in the
steady hand of Elfreda Briggs.
“You may take a look at the revolver now if you like,” she offered.
“Stay where you are!”
A glint came into the man’s eyes, a glint of danger, but it faded
and he laughed.
“Very neat, Miss. I think I’ll take a look at that bunk over there,
and that there hole in the floor with the trap door in it.”
“Out! Instantly!” Elfreda’s voice rang out with a new note in it.
The unwelcome guest’s hand sagged slowly towards his own holster.
“Hands up! Quick!”
The man obeyed, his eyes never leaving hers, nor did Elfreda’s eyes
leave those of her caller. While he undoubtedly, with his long
experience in quick work, could have dodged and drawn and fired ere
Miss Briggs was able to prevent it, he did not do so. Perhaps he
feared that she might hit his horse instead of himself, for that
animal was directly in range with her weapon.
“Mount! Leave this place instantly! If you attempt to interfere with
me you will do so at your peril!” she warned.
“Farewell, lady,” he answered mockingly. “I shall see ye just the
same, and ye will answer my questions next time.” The fellow swung
into his saddle, Miss Briggs still keeping her weapon trained on him
as she followed him out.
Then she saw the man suddenly stiffen in his saddle, and what
followed came at such speed that she was dazed. The fellow’s
revolver leaped, it seemed to her, from its holster and met his hand
half way. There was a sudden report, and a faint puff of grayish
smoke from the muzzle.
A fraction of a second, after the report of his weapon, brought a
shot from somewhere to the left of the Overland girl. The bandit’s
horse jumped, and to Elfreda it was plain that the animal had been
hit. It reared, and its rider toppled over and plunged backwards to
the ground.
[Illustration: The Bandit Was Using Elfreda as a Shield.]
“He’s killed!” cried Miss Briggs, dropping her own weapon and
running to the prostrate bandit who lay where he had fallen, his
face turned to one side, and half hidden by his sombrero. She gave
no thought to the peril that she might be inviting by aiding the
ruffian. Her one thought was to give aid.
The girl was bending over him, when, in a flash, the fellow was on
his feet, and two sinewy hands had grabbed her arms and whirled her
about in the direction of the shot that had been fired at him.
Elfreda Briggs had walked into a trap!
That was not all. A report at her ear was followed by another and
another. The bandit was shooting over her shoulder, using the
Overland girl as a shield.
There were no answering shots, nor could Elfreda see what the bandit
had been shooting at, but she stood frozen, while he, alert and
cool, kept his gaze fixed on a clump of bushes a few dozen yards
ahead of them.
Elfreda had not uttered a sound. She was trembling, but rather than
have the man using her as a shield know this she summoned all her
will power and gained control of herself.
The bandit fired again. The shooting, so close to her ear, fairly
deafened her. Elfreda had another cause for worry, for she did not
know at what instant the bandit’s enemy might conclude to fire
again. To a person in her position, that was not a comforting
thought. No answering shot came, and the girl drew a long breath of
relief.
Not a word had passed between them up to this point, but now she
spoke.
“You coward!” breathed Elfreda.
“Had to do it,” was the brief reply.
“You will pay dearly for this,” she threatened.
“Shut up! I’ll give ye a clout over the head if ye don’t, and I’d
hate to do that to a purty gal like—” _Bang!_
The bandit fired. Then a strange thing happened, and Elfreda was
hurled forward on her face with unexpected violence.