PAT TURNS THIEF
A week passed before Pat knew of his change in masters. But that was not
strange. Busily engaged in keeping himself alive on scant herbage, he
took but little interest in anything else. Besides, his young friend
continued to make much of him, talking in soothing tones and gently
stroking his sides, and the little gray, holding herself faithfully
near, also maintained quiet evidence of friendliness. So he had no
reason to suspect change. But one morning, with camp broken, and
saddle-bags flung out, and the window sealed over, and the door shut and
barred, and the other horses bridled and saddled, there came to him in
the person of the large man himself--a person he had instinctively
disliked--the first sign of the change in his fortune.
The man approached, bridle on arm, to remove his hobbles. He remained
motionless under this, and prepared also to accept the bridle quietly.
But in bridling him the man was rough to an extent he had never before
known--forcing an oddly shaped bit against his tongue, and twisting and
turning his sensitive ears as if these delicate organs were so much
refractory leather or metal. Then came the saddle, and with it further
torture. The forward belt was made snug, which he was accustomed to and
expected; but when the rear girdle was cinched so tight that he found
difficulty in breathing, he became nervous and wanted to protest. It was
all very unusual, this rough handling, and he did not understand it. The
effect of the tight cinch was peculiar, too. With the knot tied firmly,
he felt girded as for some great undertaking, his whole nervous system
seemed to center in his stomach, and all his wonted freedom and buoyancy
seemed compressed and smothered. With all this, and the man in the
saddle and spurring viciously, he realized grimly the change in masters.
They set out at a fox-trot, continuing their southwesterly direction. It
was an unmarked course from the beginning, leading them steadily down
into the Mogollon range, and, as before, Johnson was occupying the lead,
with Jim next behind, and Glover bringing up the rear. And, as on the
first leg of the journey, all rode in silence.
So Pat was in the lead, and while he found his new master half as heavy
again as the other, he also found compensation for the increased weight
in the position which he occupied. Not that he was proud to be in the
lead; nothing from the beginning of this adventure had caused a thrill
of either joy or pride. But he did find in his new place freedom from
dust cast up by the heels of his companions, and he trotted along in
contentment, to all outward appearances. But it was only an appearance
of content. Within were mixed emotions. While he felt pleasure at being
active again, while he was resigned in a way to his hunger pangs, and he
was glad that his friends, the little gray and the young man, were still
with him, yet against all this was a sense of revolt at the unnecessary
tightness of the cinch, the hard hand on the reins, and the frequent
touch of spur and heel and stirrup against his sides. Finally the
feeling which began at that initial torture in bridling swelled with the
consequent annoyances into approaching revolt. He became ugly and
morose.
This soon revealed itself. He was crossing a wide arroyo. Without
counting costs, grimly blind to the result, he burst out of the fox-trot
into a canter. He held to this a thrilling moment, and then, finding
himself keyed to greater exertions, abandoned the canter and broke into
a sharp run. It was all done quickly, the changes of stride lapping
almost within his own length, and his heart leaped and pounded with
delight, for the change somehow relieved him.
But it was a mistake. Quickly as it was done, he found himself almost as
quickly jerked up, swung viciously around, and his sides raked with
ruthless spurs. He gasped a moment under the smarting fire of the spurs,
then, as in the old days, reared in a towering rage. And this was a
mistake. Too late he found the man's weight overbalancing him. He
struggled to recover himself, plunged over backward, and down, striking
the earth heavily. Hurriedly he regained his feet, but not so the man,
not till the others sprang to his assistance. Then he realized what he
had done, realized it fully as he caught the venomous gleam in the man's
eyes and heard the storm of abuse volleying from his lips. Then, looking
at the man, and listening to his raging outburst, he conjured up out of
the dim past memories of the Mexican hostler and of that single
encounter in the white corral. And now his fear for the man left him.
"I'll kill him! I'll shoot the horse!" roared Johnson, his face yellow
underneath the tan. He reached toward his side-arms.
But he did not shoot. With his face white and drawn Jim strode to Pat's
head, while Glover, quick to understand, played the solicitous
attendant, assisting the limping Johnson into the saddle. And that
closed the incident. Presently all were riding along again, with
Johnson, wincing under internal distress, holding his reins more loosely
than before.
But it was not without its good. As on that other occasion in the
corral, Pat had learned something. He had measured a man, and he knew,
and knew that the man knew, that he had come off victor. But it gave him
no secret gratification. He continued to trot along, holding steadily to
the gait, subtly aware of the slackened rein and of the wrenched and
loosened girdle, until, with the coming of noon, the blessed relief from
the weight of the man, the ill-fitting saddle, and the over-tight girth,
came also an agreeable surprise. He was turned out to graze without
hobble or tether, and for this consideration he felt faint glimmerings
of respect for his new master. Making free at first with the other
horses, he set off to enjoy to the full his new-found liberty.
But as he pursued ever farther the elusive vegetation in the joy of
freedom, he presently awoke to his great distance from camp, and,
indeed, from the other horses. Conscious of a sudden gripping loneliness
and a certain apprehension, he began to retrace his way. As he did so,
out of the silence came a nasty whirring sound, and suddenly he felt a
rope settle over his head. Surprise, then anger, displaced his
loneliness and apprehension; he jerked back to escape the rope. But it
held fast. He braced his legs and began to pull steadily. But the harder
he pulled the worse the rope choked him. Finally he ceased all effort
and turned his eyes along the rope. At the far end stood the little
mare, legs braced in the sand, and astride her, stolid and grim, and
with eyes narrowed, the figure of the large man. At sight of him Pat
began to pull again, more through ugliness now than desire to escape,
until he found that he was dragging the little gray out of her stiffened
hold. Then he slackened off. Also, as she wheeled back toward camp, he
set out amiably after her. In camp he found his young friend scattering
and deadening the coals of the camp-fire, and the little man making up
the saddle-bags. This told him that the journey was to be resumed, and
he stood quiet and peaceful as he was being bridled and saddled, and
afterward he trotted along under the guidance of his master without show
of anger or rebellion. Indeed, though the sun was hot, and the unmarked
trail tedious, and the weight on his back heavier than ever, he felt
less fretful and more contented than at any time since leaving the
little ranch beside the river--possibly because of the thrill of his
double encounter.
Ahead and on either hand the desert soon began to break and lift. As
they went on the dunes grew to be hills and heights, growing, looming,
closing in upon them. Now and again a clump of trees or a shoulder of
rock or a stretch of foliage stepped out in relief against the brown of
the landscape, revealing more than once ideal grazing-land. Also, as
they penetrated deeper into this broken country, the sky overhead showed
change. From a spotless blue it revealed tiny splotches of gray-white
cloud scudding before upper currents. With the passing hours these
clouds became heavy, sullen, and threatening, until the sun, dipping
into the west, sinking in a kind of hazy moisture, left the heavens
completely overcast, cold and bleak and forbidding--a dense mass of
cloud-banks down to the tip of ridge and range. And now came dusk, short
and chill, and with it the slow ascent of a long grade, leading them up
to a ridge, low and ragged, trailing away interminably to north and
south in the gloom. Complete darkness found them deep among high hills.
The men drew rein beside a little stream. They watered the horses, and
then, throwing off saddle-bags and gathering brush, they built a tiny
fire. Glover appeared nervous and worried, and when the meal was ended
turned to mount and be off again. But Johnson called him back. Johnson
was seated on the ground, close beside Jim, and Glover sat down with
them. Thus they waited, silent, reflective, watching, while about them
pressed the close night, seeming by its touch to impart to them
something of its solemnity. Off at one side the horses, bridled and
saddled, waited also--watching and waiting, motionless, and over them
all brooded a stillness that was mighty and portentous. Thus they waited
for two hours, wrapped in profound silence, and then Johnson, after
scanning the sky, rose and made for the horses. The others quickly
followed him. Their trail led into a narrow defile. Up this winding way
they rode, with Johnson in the lead, up and ever up, until they burst
through a clump of brush at the top. There they drew rein and again
waited, silent, reflective, watching. Presently Glover, with eyes turned
eastward, uttered a grunt which meant relief.
The clouds in the eastern sky were breaking. Through the heavy banks
came a faint glimmering of moonlight. At first but a hair-line, it
widened out, reaching up and across the sky, developing steadily into
the semblance of a frozen flash of heat lightning, until all the eastern
heavens showed a shimmering expanse, broken here and there by black
clouds sullenly holding their own, which flooded the underscudding
desert in beautiful mottled gray-green coloring. Wider and wider the
light spread, up and away on either hand, moving stealthily across the
sky, until the sheen of it broke over the ridge itself, and then swept
beyond to the west, laying bare a broad expanse of mesa dotted with
gray-green specks that told of the presence of hundreds of cattle. And
now the sullen clouds took to weaving, swaying under the pressure of
upper-air currents, the specks below beginning to lift and fall with the
motion of the clouds like bits of wreckage undulate on the sea. The
air-drifts descended, came closer, fanning the cheeks of the men,
rustling through the leaves which crowned the ridge, and breaking the
heavy silence. The air-currents flicked the desert with their freight of
swift-moving shadows, causing strange movement among the bits of
wreckage--the cattle. It was a glorious march, lighting up the western
expanse beneath and revealing a flat country, unbroken by dune or cleft
as far as the eye could penetrate. So the light moved on, crowding
before it sullen shadows which presently disappeared.
Johnson broke the stillness. "We'd better move along down," he said, and
shook Pat's reins.
The horses began the long descent. As compared with the upward climb
they made slow progress. Forced to feel their way, they moved always in
halts and starts, over saplings, around bulging rocks, along narrow
ledges, and at length gained the mesa, where the men drew rein. Johnson,
sweeping his eyes coolly over the field of his campaign, began to give
orders.
"Jim," he snapped, "cut in over there--that arroyo--and crowd 'em around
to the south. Don't go too deep." Then, as Jim caught up his reins,
"Glover, swing off this side--close in. We'll keep close in down to the
line. Hop along!"
Pat remained standing. He turned his eyes after the little gray and her
rider. He saw the pair swing up over a rise of ground at a gallop, dip
from view into a hollow, and appear again on the level beyond. Across
this they rode, speeding to the opposite slopes, then slackening as they
ascended, making quietly among the nervous cattle, horses and riders
moving with the easy certainty that told of much experience. Then he saw
the head and shoulders of the young man above the surging herd, crowding
a part of it slowly in his direction, to the right, to the left, forward
and around, always making steadily toward him. It was interesting, and
he continued to watch the cool steadiness of the man and the easy
control of the horse, until he caught sight of the other, riding the
opposite flank, but also crowding steadily toward him. He fell to
watching this man, who, not so tall as Jim among the herd, but as
quietly active, was also pressing to right and left and forward and
around among the cattle, relentlessly cutting them out. Soon there was a
general forward movement, the young man riding on the far side, the
little man closing up the rear, and this brought the whole herd, some
bellowing loudly, others in sullen silence, still others contentedly
munching, directly opposite. Then he felt the prick of spurs, and,
throwing himself eagerly at the task, he galloped around behind the
advancing cattle, falling into the position now abandoned by the little
man, who cantered around and forward upon the left flank. It was
exciting, and for a moment he thrilled. Then came the only interruption.
A big steer, breaking suddenly out of the herd, tore madly to the rear.
Pat, nearest the escaping beef, was spurred in pursuit. It was
unexpected, the spurring, and it was savage, and, jolted out of soothing
reflection, he flattened his ears and balked. The man spurred him again
and again and again, finally raking his sides mercilessly. Whereupon Pat
balked in earnest, bucking and pitching viciously. At this the man swung
his quirt, cutting Pat repeatedly over head and ears. Yet Pat continued
to plunge, holding grimly to his lesson, which was to teach this man the
futility of this treatment. He did not throw the man off, but neither
did he go ahead. Finally the man ceased his brutality, and evidently
coming to understand, headed Pat after the moving herd without spur or
quirt. Then Pat, though still rankling under the cruelty, sprang eagerly
forward, desirous of showing his willingness to serve when rightly used.
That was all. The night passed quietly, the men, alert to their tasks,
each separated from the other, riding stolidly into golden dawn. But not
till late, with the sun half-way to its zenith, and then only because of
safe distance from possible detection, did they draw rein. Saddle-bags
were thrown off, though bridle and saddle were left on in case of
emergency, and the horses were turned out on short tethers. The men
risked a fire, since they were in the shadow of a ridge, and when the
coffee-pot was steaming seated themselves on the ground, in a close
circle. For the first time since midnight one spoke. It was Johnson.
"We'll hold west of Lordsburg," he declared, sweeping his eyes
gloatingly over the herd. "Francisco Espor and his gang over the line'll
weep when they see that bunch--for joy!"
Jim leaned back upon one elbow. "What was that rumpus last night," he
inquired, "right after we started?" Then he showed his thoughts. "I
mean, the horse."
Johnson swung his head around. For a moment he appeared not to
understand. Then suddenly his eyes lost their good-humored twinkle and
grew hard.
"Lost one," he answered, abruptly. "The horse stalled." He narrowed his
eyes as he stared vindictively at Pat. "I must take a day off, after we
get over the line," he snapped, "and break that animal to saddle,
bridle, spur, quirt, and rope. He 'ain't never been broke, that horse,
and he's naturally mean!"
Jim sat up. "Not with me," he declared, quietly, "when we got
acquainted. You ain't taking him right, that's all."
Johnson eyed him surlily. "You're a wonderful piece!" he snapped; and
then, by glint of eye and jerk of head showed that he dismissed the
subject.
But Jim seemed to feel otherwise. "Maybe I am," he retorted, turning
absent eyes in the direction of the horse. "But I ain't all. I happen to
know of another wonderful piece. I'm only a one-territory piece."
Johnson grinned. "Go on," he urged, politely.
"There's no 'go on' to it," rejoined Jim, revealing equal politeness.
"I'm only thinking of a piece I happen to know that runs about a man
that's wanted more or less in seven states and two territories. Running
double, he's hard to get."
Johnson reached over coolly and struck him nastily across the mouth.
Then as coolly he sat back, while Jim slowly rose to his feet. His eyes
were blazing.
"Thanks," he said, tensely. "I've heard a lot about your killings," he
went on, breathless with anger. "I guess maybe that's the way--"
"Hush!" broke in Glover, excitedly, his eyes upon the ridge to the east.
The others turned. Moving slowly along the crest, disappearing,
reappearing, disappearing again, was the figure of a man. They gazed a
long moment, when the figure dropped from view again. They continued to
gaze, silent, rigid, watchful, peering narrowly against the morning
sunlight. Presently the figure reappeared, lower against the gray
background, moving slowly as before, evidently crouching. Lower it came,
quarter down the slope, half-way, then again disappeared. Johnson broke
the tense silence.
"Sheepherder!" he snapped, and turned savage eyes back upon Jim.
But Glover leaped to his feet. "If that's a sheepherder," he cried,
making for the horses at a run, "then I'm a sheep!"