concerned. He had explained to Bland that he meant to keep his promise as
soon as he could and be square with his boss, and Bland had at the last
resigned himself to the delay--no doubt comforting himself with some
cunning plan of revenge later, when he had gotten Johnny into the city,
where Bland felt more at home and where Johnny would have all the odds
against him, being a stranger and--in Bland's opinion--a "hick."
The forenoon, therefore, had been all triumph for Johnny. All triumph and
all glowing with the rose tints of promise. The afternoon was a different
matter.
Johnny had ridden out on the recaptured Sandy. When he had time to think
of it, that glimpse of the horsemen and the loose horses over beyond the
red hill nagged him with a warning that all was not well on the Rolling R
range. He had headed straight for the red hill, and he had noticed many
little, betraying signs that had long escaped him in his preoccupation
with his own dreams and ambitions.
The horses were wild, and ducked into whatever cover was nearest when he
approached. Johnny knew that they had lately been chased and frightened,
and that there was only one logical reason for that, because none of the
Rolling R boys had been down on the Sinkhole range since the colts were
branded and these horses driven down for the summer grazing.
Johnny rode to where he had seen the horseman, picked up the tracks of
shod hoofs and followed them to the fence. Saw where two panels of wire
had been loosened and afterwards refastened. Some one had dropped a
couple of new staples beside one post, and there were fresh hammer dents
in the wood. Johnny had not done it; there was only one other answer to
the question of the fence-mender's reason. There was no mystery whatever.
Johnny looked, and he knew.
He looked out across the fence and knew, too, how helpless he was. He had
not even brought his rifle, as Sudden had told him to do. The rifle had
been a nuisance, and Johnny conveniently forgot it once or twice, and
then had told himself that it was just a notion of old Sudden's--and what
was the use of packing something you never would need? He had not carried
it with him for more than three weeks. But if he had it now, he knew that
it would not help him any. The thieves had hours the start of him. It had
been just after sunrise that he had seen them--he, a Rolling R man,
sailing foolishly around in an airplane and actually _seeing_ a bunch of
Rolling R horses being stolen, without caring enough to think what the
fellows were up to! Self-disgust seized him nauseatingly. It was there at
the fence he first wished he had fallen and broken his neck.
He turned back, rode until he had located a bunch of horses, made a rough
count, and went on, heavy-hearted, steeped in self-condemnation. He
located other horses, scattered here and there in little groups, and kept
a mental tally of their numbers. Now, while the sun dipped low toward the
western hills, he watched this last herd dismally, knowing how completely
he had failed in his trust.
Square with his boss! He, Johnny Jewel, had presumed to prate of it that
day, with half the horses stolen from Sinkhole. For so did conscience
magnify the catastrophe. He had dared to assume that his presence there
at Sinkhole was necessary to the welfare of the Rolling R! Johnny
laughed, but tears would have been less bitter than his laughter.
He had been proud of himself, arrogantly sure of his ability, his nerve,
his general superiority. He, who had shirked his duty, the work that won
him his food and clothes and money to spend, he had blandly considered
himself master of himself, master of his destiny! He had fatuously
believed that, had belittled his work and thought it unworthy his time
and thought and ability--and he had let himself be hoodwinked and robbed
in broad daylight!
He remembered the days when he had compromised with his work, had ridden
to a certain pinnacle that commanded a wide view of the range, and had
looked out over the country from the top--and had hurried back to the
niche to work on the airplane, calling his duty to the Rolling R done for
that day. He might better have stolen those horses himself, Johnny
thought. He would at least have the satisfaction of knowing that he had
accomplished what he had set out to do; he would not have to bear this
sickening feeling of failure along with his guilt.
But staring at the horses the thieves had left would not bring back the
ones they had stolen, so Johnny rode back to camp, caught the gentlest of
his two bronks and turned Sandy loose in the pasture. He had formed the
habit of riding over to the airplane before he cooked his supper;
sometimes eating with Bland so that he might the longer gaze upon his
treasure. But to-night he neither rode to the niche nor cooked supper. He
did not want to eat, and he did not want to see his airplane, that had
tempted him to such criminal carelessness.
The telephone called him, and Johnny went dismally to answer. It was old
Sudden, of course; the full, smooth voice that could speak harsh commands
or criticisms and make them sound like pleasantries. Johnny thought the
voice was a little smoother, a little fuller than usual.
"Hello. The boys tell me that they had quite a lot of--excitement--this
morning when they were rounding up a bunch of horses. An aeroplane
swooped down on them with--er--somewhat unpleasant results. Yes. The
horses stampeded, and--er--the boys were compelled to do some hard
riding. Yes. Tex was thrown--that makes two of the boys that are laid up
for repairs. They haven't succeeded in gathering the horses so far. Know
anything about it, Johnny?"
"Yes, sir." Johnny's voice was apathetic. What did a little thing like a
stampede amount to, in the face of what Sudden had yet to hear?
"Oh, you do?" Sudden was plainly expectant. He did not, however, sound
particularly reassuring. "Where did that aeroplane come from? Do you
know?"
"Yes, sir. It's one I--salvaged from Mexico. I--was trying it out."
"Oh. You were? Trying it out on the stock. Well, I don't believe I care
to work my stock with flying machines. Aviators--come high. I prefer just
plain, old-fashioned riders."
He paused, quite evidently waiting to hear what Johnny had to say. But
Johnny did not seem to have anything at all to say, so Sudden spoke
again.
"How about the horses down at Sinkhole? Are they broken to aeroplane
herding, or have they all stampeded like these up here?"
Here was escape, reprieve, an excuse that might save him. Johnny
hesitated just long enough to draw his breath deeply, as a man does
before diving into cold water.
"They haven't stampeded. I never had the plane in the air till this
morning, and then I flew--toward the ranch. These horses down here have
been stolen. About half of them, I should say. I was gone for nearly
three days, getting that airplane from across the line. A greaser told me
about it, and took me where it was. And when I got back I didn't ride the
range the way I should have done--the way I did do, at first. I was
working on the airplane, all the time I possibly could. I ran across a
fellow that's been an aviator, and brought him down here, and he helped.
And so the horses were stolen--a few at a time, I think. I believe I'd
have missed them if they had gone all at once."
Johnny could feel the silence at the other end of the line. It lasted so
long that he wondered dully if Sudden were waiting for more, but Johnny
felt as though there was nothing more to add. Of what use would it be to
protest that he was sorry? Bad enough to rob a man, without insulting him
with puerile regrets.
"Now--let's get this thing straight." Sudden's voice when it came was
fuller than ever, smoother than ever. It was a bad sign. "You say--about
half of the horses on that range have been stolen? Have you counted
them?"
"No. I'm just guessing. I don't think I've lost more than half. I just
made a rough tally of what I found to-day."
"You say not _more_ than half, then. But you're guessing. Now, when did
you first miss them?"
"To-day. I was all taken up with that damned airplane before, and I
didn't pay much attention. This morning the fellow here took me for a
flight, and we went east. Beyond the red hill I happened to see four
riders driving a few horses. They were inside our fence. I didn't think
what it meant then, because Bland was climbing in a spiral and my mind
was on that. But I rode over there this afternoon, and I saw where they'd
let down the fence and then put it back up again. And they'd tried to
cover up the tracks of horses going through. So I rode all afternoon,
making a sort of tally of what horses ranged over that way. A lot of
'em's gone. I missed some of the best ones--some big geldings that I
think I'd know anywhere."
"You say they went through the fence on the east line?"
"Yes, sir. It was just after sunrise that I saw them."
"And it was afternoon, you say, before it occurred to you that they might
possibly have been stealing my horses. In the meantime, you were up this
way, playing hell with the round-up."
"Yes, sir, that's about the way it stacks up."
"What are you going to do?"
"I don't know. Try and get back what horses I can, I guess." Johnny did
not speak as though he had much faith.
"Going to go out and round them up with your flying machine, I suppose!
That sounds practical, perfectly plausible. As much so as the rest of the
story."
Johnny was too utterly miserable and hopeless to squirm at the sarcasm.
"Well, we don't want to be hasty. In fact, you have not been hasty so
far, from what I can gather. Except in the matter of indulging yourself
in aircraft at my expense. Don't leave the cabin. I shall probably want
to talk about this again to-night."
That was all. It was enough. It was like Sudden to withhold condemnation
until after he had digested the crime. Johnny did not think much about
what Sudden would do, but he had a settled conviction that condemnation
was merely postponed for a little while. It would come. But Johnny sat
already condemned by the harshest judge a man may have--the harshness of
his own youthful conscience.
He sat brooding, his palms holding his jaws, his eyes staring at the
floor. What was he going to do? Sudden had asked him that. Johnny had
asked himself the same question; indeed, it had drummed insistently
in his brain since he had inspected the fence that afternoon and had
known just what had befallen him. The bell rang--Sudden was calling
again. He got up stolidly to answer more questions.
"Oh--Skyrider! I can only talk a minute. Mom's in the kitchen, and dad's
gone to hunt up Bill Hayden. Is it true, Johnny, that a lot of horses
have been stolen?"
"Yes."
"I heard dad talking. Oh, I wish I could help hunt them, but I'm in an
awful mess, Skyrider! Bill Hayden knew I'd taken Jake, because my saddle
was gone, and none of the other horses were. I never _saw_ any one so
mean and suspicious! And he knows Jake got away from me, too, because I
was trying to catch him when Bill rode up, just perfectly furious over
the horses stampeding. And Bill told dad--he certainly is the _meanest_
thing! And now dad won't let me go out of sight of the house unless he or
mom are with me. And mommie never goes anywhere, it's so hot. And dad
only goes to town. But they don't know it was us in the aeroplane--and
I'm just glad of it if we did scatter their old herd for them.
Everybody's so mean to me! And I was planning how you'd teach me to fly,
and we'd have the duckiest times--and now--"
She hung up so abruptly that Johnny knew as well as though he had been
in the room with her, what had happened. She had heard her dad coming.
Before Johnny had sat down again to his brooding, Sudden called him.
"You spoke about a greaser telling you about an aeroplane, and that you
went with him and got it." Sudden's voice was cool and even--an
inexorable voice. "Do you remember my telling you not to let a greaser on
the Rolling R range if you could help it?"
"Yes, sir. This one's brother came first. He was just a kid, and he
wanted--a drink." It struck Johnny quite suddenly that Tomaso's reason
for coming had been a very poor one indeed. For there was water much
nearer Tucker Bly's range, which was to the east of Sinkhole. And Tomaso
should have had no occasion whatever to be riding to Sinkhole.
"Oh. He wanted a drink, did he? Where did he come from?"
"He works for Tucker Bly. So he said. And he told me about the airplane
that had been lost, across the line. His brother had found it."
"And you went to see his brother?"
"His brother came to see me. The kid told him I was--interested."
"You went after the flying machine when? Over two weeks ago, eh? And you
were gone--I see. Approximately two days and two nights--nearer three
days. Who answered the telephone while you were gone? It happens that I
have not missed calling you every night; did the man have a cold?"
"I--I don't know. I didn't know anybody--" Johnny frowned. It would be
just as well, he felt, to keep Mary V out of it.
"You didn't know the 'phone was answered in your absence. Well, it was.
By a man with a bad cold, who represented himself to be you. Did you
notice any signs of any one being there while you were gone?"
"N-no, I can't say I did. Well, the string was tied different on the
door, but I didn't think much about that."
"No--you wouldn't think much about that." Sudden's tone made a mental
lash of the words. "You had your own affairs to think about. You were
merely being--_paid_ to think of my affairs."
"Yes, sir--that's the kind of a hound I've been."
Johnny's abject tone--he who had been so high-chested in the past--may
have had its effect upon the boss. When Sudden spoke again his voice was
almost kind, which is unusual, surely, for a man who has been robbed.
"Well, I shall have to investigate those greasers, I think. It looks to
me as though they had used that flying machine for a bait to get you out
of the way, and that looks to me too clever for greasers. It looks to me
as though some one knew what bait you would jump at the quickest, young
man. Do some thinking along those lines, will you? The horses are gone;
but there might be some slight satisfaction in catching the thieves."
"Yes, sir. What shall I do to-morrow? Am I fired, or what?"
"You are--_what_!" Sudden was sarcastic again. "I believe, since you have
been doing pretty much as you please down there, I shall expect you to go
on doing as you please. I don't see how you are going to do any more
damage than you have already done. On the other hand, I don't see how you
are going to do much good--unless I could take those horses out of your
hide!"
Johnny stared round-eyed at the 'phone, even after Sudden had hung up his
receiver.
"Good golly!" he muttered, with a faint return of his normal spirit. "Old
Sudden oughta been a lawyer." Then he went back to holding his jaws in
two spread palms, and brooding over the trouble he was in.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
"WE FLY SOUTH"
Johnny did a great deal of thinking along the line suggested by old
Sudden. At first he thought merely how groundless was any suspicion
that the airplane was in any way connected with the horse-stealing,
except that it might justly be accused of contributing to his negligence.
Even so, Johnny could not see how one man could possibly protect the
whole of Sinkhole range from thieves. He could have been on his guard,
could have noticed when the first horses were missing, and notified
Sudden at once. That, of course, was what had been expected of him.
But as to Tomaso and his oily brother, Johnny did not at first see any
possible connection between them and his present trouble, save that they
also had innocently contributed to his neglect. But Sudden had told him
to think about it, and the suggestion kept swinging his thoughts that
way. Finally, for want of something better, he went back to the very
beginning and reconstructed his first meeting with Tomaso. Sudden had
hinted that they must have known how deeply he was interested in
aviation. But Johnny did not see how that could be. He had not talked
much about his ambition, even at the Rolling R, he remembered; not enough
to set him apart from the others as one who dreamed day and night of
flying. Until the boys got hold of that doggerel he wrote, Johnny was
sure they had not paid any attention to his occasional vague rhapsodies
on the subject.
Tomaso had seen the letterhead of that correspondence school, and had
just accidentally mentioned it. Or was it accidental? To make sure,
Johnny got out the circular which Tomaso had seen, laid it where he
remembered it to have been that day, and sat down at the table where
Tomaso had been sitting. He placed the lamp where the light fell full
upon the paper and studied the letterhead for several minutes, scowling.
Tomaso, he decided, had remarkably sharp eyes. Seen from that angle, the
letterhead was not conspicuous. The volplaning machine was not at all
striking to the eye. Unless a person knew beforehand what it represented,
or was looking for something of the sort, Johnny was forced to admit that
he would be likely to pass it over without a second glance.
Tomaso, then, must have come there with the intention of leading adroitly
to the subject of airplanes. He must have brought those little, steel
pliers purposely. And after all, he really had no business on the Rolling
R range, if he was riding for the Forty-seven. He had come a good five
miles inside the line. And when you looked at it that way, how had he
got inside the line? There was no gate on the east side of the fence.
It looked rather far-fetched, improbable. Johnny was slow to accept
the theory that he had been led to that airplane just as a toy is given
to a child, to keep its attention engrossed with a harmless pastime
while other business is afoot. It hurt his self-esteem to believe
that--wherefore he prospected his memory for some other theory to take
its place.
"Well! If that's why they did it--it sure worked like a charm," he summed
up his cogitations disgustedly. "I'll say I swallowed the bait whole!"
And he added grimly: "I wish I knew who put them wise."
Youth began to make its demands. He started a fire, boiled coffee, fried
bacon, made fresh bread, and ate a belated supper. Sudden had told him to
do as he pleased. "Well," Johnny muttered, "I will take him at his word."
He did not know just what he would please to do, but he realized that
fasting would not help him any; nor would sleeplessness. He ate,
therefore, washed his few dishes and went straight to bed. And although
he lay for a long while looking at his trouble through the magnifying
glass of worry, he did sleep finally--and without one definite plan for
the morrow.
Half an hour before dawn, Johnny went stumbling along the ledge to the
cleft. On his broad shoulder was balanced the propeller. On his face was
a look of fixed determination. He scared Bland Halliday out of a sleep in
which his dreams were all of a certain cabaret in Los Angeles--dreams
which made Bland's waking all the more disagreeable. Johnny tilted the
propeller carefully against the rock wall, lighted a match, and cupped
the blaze in his palms so that the light shone on Bland.
"Where's the lantern? You better get up--it's most daylight."
"Aw, f'r cat's sake! What more new meanness you got on your mind? Me, I
come down here in good faith to help fix a plane that's to take me back
home--and I work like a dog--"
"Yeah--I know that song by heart, Bland. You in your faith and your
innocence, how you were basely betrayed. I can sing it backward. Lay off
it now for a few minutes. I want to talk to yuh."
He lighted the lantern, and Bland lay blinking at it lugubriously. "And
me--I dreamed I was in to Lemare's just after a big exhibition flight,
and a bunch of movie queens was givin' me the glad eye."
"Yes, I've done some dreaming myself," Johnny interposed dryly. "I'm
awake now. Listen here, Bland. I've been playing square with you, all
along. I want you to get that. I can see how you being so darn crooked
yourself, you may always be looking for some one to do you, so I ain't
kicking at the stand you take. You've got no call, either, to kick
against my opinion of you. I'm satisfied you'd steal my airplane and make
your getaway, and lie till your tongue wore out, proving it was yours.
You'd do it if you got a chance. That's why I hid the gas on you. That's
why you couldn't take Miss Selmer home. I knew darn well you wouldn't
come back. And that's why I took off the propeller and hid it. It ain't
why I licked you yesterday--that was for what you said about Miss--"
"Aw, f'r cat's sake! Did yuh have to come and wake me up in the middle of
the night just to--"
"No--oh, no. I'm merely explaining to you that I don't trust you for one
holy minute. I don't want you to think you can put anything over on me by
getting on my blind side. I haven't got any, so far as you're concerned.
Now listen. I meant, and if possible I still mean, to keep my promise and
take you to the Coast in the plane; but something's come up that is going
to hold up the trip for a few days, maybe--"
"Aw, yes! I had a hunch you'd--"
"Shut up! I told you I'd go as soon as I could without leaving the boss
in the hole. Well, it happens that--well, some horses were stolen off
this range, and I'm the one that's responsible. So--"
"Say, bo, you don't, f'r cat's sake, think _I_ stole your damn horses?
Why, honest, bo, I wouldn't have a horse on a bet! I--"
"Oh, shut _up_!" thundered the distracted Johnny above the other's whine.
"Of course I know you didn't steal 'em. Horses ain't in your line, or I
wouldn't be so sure. The point is this. I've got to get out and get 'em
back, or get a line on who did it. I can't go off without doing something
about it. This range was in my charge. I was supposed to report anything
that looked suspicious, and I--well, the point is this--"
"So you said," Bland cut in, with something of his natural venom.
"Shut up. There's just a chance I can find out where those horses were
taken. We'll go in the plane. You'll have to go along to handle it,
because I'm liable to be busy, if I run across anybody. I'm going to pack
a rifle and a six-shooter, and I don't want my hands full of controls
right at the critical minute. Besides," he added ingenuously, "some of
these darned air currents nearly got the best of me yesterday, coming
back. You can handle the machine, and I'll do the look-see."
"Aw, sa-ay! I--"
"I know it's against my promise to a certain extent," Johnny went on.
"I know I've got you in a corner, too, where you can't help yourself.
You couldn't walk to the railroad, or even to the closest ranch, if you
knew the way--which you don't. You'd wander around in the heat and the
sand--well, you're pretty helpless without me, all right, or the plane.
I sabe that better than you do. You've got to do about as I say, because
you haven't got the nerve to kill me, even if I gave you the chance.
Sneaking off with the plane is about as much as you're game for.
"Well, the point is this: I don't want to take any mean advantage of
you. I can't afford to pay you what your services are really worth, as
pilot--and there's no reason why I should. But--well, I ain't quite broke
yet. I'll give you twenty-five dollars for helping me out, in case what I
want to do only takes a day or two days. If it takes more, I'll give you
ten dollars a day. It isn't much, but it helps when you're broke."
Bland permitted the sour droop of his lips to ease into a grin.
"Now you're coming somewhere near the point, bo," he said. "But ten
dollars--say! Ten dollars ain't street-car fare. Not in little old L.A.
Make it twenty, bo, and you're on."
"I'll make it nothing if ten dollars a day don't suit you!" Johnny
declared hotly. "Why, damn your dirty hide, that's as much as I make in a
_week_! And listen! I expect to sit in the back seat--and I'll have two
guns on me."
"Aw, ferget them two guns!" Bland surrendered. "This is sure the gunniest
country I ever stopped in. Even the Janes--"
"Shut up!"
"Oh, well, I'll sign up for ten, bo. It ain't eatin' money, but it'll
maybe help buy me the makin's of a smoke now and then."
"Well, get up, then. I'll get us some breakfast, and we'll go. It's going
to be still to-day--and hot, I think. You better get up."