TREED
Johnny awakened at the shot and softly rolled out of his blanket. The
fire was nearly out, but an occasional burst of flame from the end of
the last stick served to show him the outlines of the little tent and
the glistening hobnails in the soles of the protruding boots. A bush
stirred and a careless step snapped a twig with a report startlingly
loud in the night. A voice some distance behind him called out to a
figure which appeared like a ghost upon the edge of the little clearing.
"Get him, Purdy?"
Boots scraped on stone at his right and another voice raised out of the
dark. "If he didn't, there'd be some cussed rapid shootin' about now!"
"Course I got him!" snorted Purdy.
Johnny cautiously backed out of the thicket while the men behind him
crashed through the brush and swore at the density of the growth.
The man at the end of the clearing stopped and stood quietly regarding
the vague boots, his rifle at the ready. Somehow he did not feel that
everything was as it should be. The boots appeared to be in the same
position as when he had espied them a moment before. He must have
made a lucky brain or heart shot, or--. He raised his hand swiftly and
backed into the oak brush again, where Mexican locust in the high grass
stabbed him mercilessly. Again his rifle spoke. The boots did not move.
"You got him th' first time," laughed Fleming, walking rapidly toward
the tent; but he was not confident enough in his claim to put up his
Colt.
"Shore," endorsed Holbrook. "It was good judgment, an' good luck."
Fleming, Colt ready, leaned swiftly over, grasped a boot and gave a
strong pull--and went down on his back, the Colt exploding and flying
one way while the boot, showering pebbles and small bits of rock,
soared aloft and went the other way.
"D--n him!" swore Purdy, diving back into the brush and giving no
thought to the thorns. "Cover, fellers! Quick!" he cried.
His warning was hardly needed, for Holbrook had dived headfirst into
a matted thicket and landed on some locust with but little more that
passing knowledge of its presence. Fleming bounded to his feet, scooped
up his Colt on the run and jumped into another thicket, unmindful at
first of the peculiar odor which assailed his nostrils. He had no time,
then, to think about skunks, or whether or not they were hydrophobic.
The silence was deep and unbroken, except for an occasional faint swish
or scrape, for three men had settled down where they had landed, there
to remain until daylight, not far off, came to help them.
Out of the clearing a small, striped animal moved leisurely and
defiantly, tainting the air, and entered the tent. It instantly became
the cynosure of three pairs of anxious eyes, for while August was a
long way off, three worried punchers found small satisfaction in that.
They would sooner face an angry silver-tip, or a cougar with young,
than to intrude upon the vision of that insignificant but odorous
"'phoby cat." Each of them knew of instances, related by others,
where men bitten by a skunk had gone raving mad; but none of them,
personally, ever had seen any such case; and none of them had any
intention of letting the other two see any such a shocking spectacle in
the immediate future.
The little animal emerged from the tent and appeared to be undecided as
to which way to go; and no roulette ball ever possessed the fascination
nor furnished the thrills that took hold of the three staring watchers.
It took a few steps one way and a few steps the other, and then started
straight for the thicket where Art Fleming shuddered and swore under
his breath. Two sighs arose on the air concurrent with the cursing.
"Just my cussed luck!" gritted Fleming. "Get out of here, cuss you!"
he whispered fiercely, and raised his Colt. No sane man, with his
firm beliefs regarding skunks, would hesitate when forced to choose
between probable death from a bullet or certain and horrible death from
hydrophobia. The skunk reached the edge of the thicket, five feet from
the perspiring puncher, and was blown into a mass of reeking flesh.
Fleming groaned miserably. "They shore dies game!" he swore,
half-nauseated. "They're cussed strong finishers! Why couldn't he 'a'
headed for one of th' others? I got to move, right now."
He did so, slowly, cautiously, painfully; but the scent moved with
him. He stopped, mopped his face, and then held his hand away from
him. His sleeve, vest, and sombrero proclaimed their presence with an
enthusiastic strength and persistence.
"Cussed if he didn't _hit_ me! An' I might just as well go back to th'
ranch, so far's huntin' Nelson is concerned. He could smell me a day
before he caught sight of me!" A sickly grin slipped over his face, for
he was blessed with a keen sense of humor. "Won't Gates an' Quigley be
indignant when I odors in upon 'em!"
Purdy rolled his head in silent mirth, one hand over his nose; and
Holbrook alternately chuckled and swore, wishing that the soft wind
would shift and spare him.
"Laugh!" blazed Fleming, angry, ashamed, and disgusted, removing his
vest and throwing it into the clearing. His sombrero followed it and
then there was a ripping sound and a red flannel shirt sleeve joined
the other cast-offs. The little, persistent flame on the stick blazed
higher and revealed the collection of personal effects.
"If he peels off th' rest of his shirt an' shucks his pants, he'll
smell near as bad," chuckled Purdy gleefully.
"Dan'l Boone Number Two!" said Holbrook, tears in his eyes. "But I
shore wish he had enticed it off aways before he shot it!"
Dawn stole from the east and the magnificent sunrise passed unnoticed.
Fleming, sullen, angry, odorous, trudged doggedly to his horse, which
regarded him with evil eyes, mounted and rode away at a gallop in his
desire to create a breeze; and in this the horse needed no urging. Back
in the canyon Purdy and Holbrook scouted diligently, but with caution,
covering ground slowly and thoroughly as they advanced.
Under a tangled thicket near the camp there was a sudden movement, and
Johnny, hands and face covered with blood from the scratches of thorns,
slowly emerged and followed the scouting rustlers at a distance.
Satisfied that they would not return he circled swiftly to the south of
the camp and caught a glimpse of Fleming as that unfortunate plodded
dejectedly over a distant ridge on his way to his horse.
Johnny watched for a moment, and then, turning hastily, slipped back
to the camp, where he collected what he could carry, packed it into
blankets, put on the well-worn, heavy boots, fastened the pack on his
back and dashed into the cover again, desperately anxious to gain his
objective.
He knew what would happen. As soon as Fleming reached the ranch-houses
he would reclothe himself and return with those of his friends who were
able to accompany him; and it would not be long before the Twin Buttes
section would be thoroughly combed. He could not hide his trail, so it
were wise to lead them to a place they could not search.
Slipping on the treacherous malpais and loose stones, fighting through
the torturing locust and cactus hidden in the grass, he pushed through
matted thickets of oak brush and manzanito by main strength, savagely
determined to gain his goal well in advance of the creeping, cautious
cattle-thieves who crept, foot by foot, down the canyon on the other
side of the butte.
A black bear lumbered out of his way and sat down to watch him pass,
the little eyes curious and unblinking. Several white-tailed deer shot
up a slope ahead of him in unbelievable leaps and at a remarkable
speed. He leaped over a fallen pine trunk and his heavy bootheel
crushed a snake which rattled and struck at the same instant; but the
heavy boots and the trousers tucked within them made the vicious fangs
harmless. Flies swarmed about him and yellow-jackets stung him as he
squashed over a muddy patch of clay. A grinning coyote slunk aside
to give him undisputed right-of-way, while high up on the slope a
silver-tip grizzly stopped his foraging long enough to watch him pass.
For noise he cared nothing; the up-flung butte reared its rocky walls
between him and his enemies; and he plunged on, all his energies
centered on speed, regardless of the stings and the sweat which
streamed down him, tinged with blood from the mass of smarting
scratches. Malpais, cunningly hidden in the grass, pressed painfully
against the worn, thin soles of his boots and hurt him cruelly as he
slipped and floundered. He staggered and slipped more frequently now,
and the pack on his back seemed to have trebled in weight; his breath
came in great, sobbing gulps and the blood pulsed through his aching
temples like hammer blows, while a hot, tight band seemed to encircle
his parched throat; but he now was in sight of his goal.
Beginning at a rock slide, a mass of treacherous broken rock and shale
in which he sank to his ankles at every plunging step, a faint zigzag
line wandered up the southern face of the butte. He did not know that
it could be mastered, but he did not have time to gain the easier
trail, up which he had led his horse. Struggling up the shale slope,
slipping and floundering in the treacherous footing, he flung himself
on the rock ledge which slanted sharply upward.
Resting until his head cleared, he began a climb which ever after
existed in his memory as a vague but horrible nightmare. Rattlesnakes
basked in the sun, coiling swiftly and sounding their whirring alarm
as he neared them; but blindly thrown rocks mashed them and sent them
writhing over the edge to whirl to destruction in the valley below.
Treacherous, rotten ledges crumbled as he put his weight on them,
and he saved himself time and time again only by an intuitive leap
nearly as dangerous as the peril he avoided. At many places the ledge
disappeared, and it was only by desperate use of fingers and toes that
he managed to pass the gaps, spread-eagled against the cliff while
he moved an inch at a time, high above the yawning depths, to the
beginning of a new ledge.
Scrawny, hardy shrubs, living precariously in cracks and on ledges, and
twisted roots found his grip upon them. At one place a flue-like crack
in the wall, a "chimney," was the only way to proceed, and he climbed
it, back and head against one side, knees and hands against the other,
the strain making him faint and dizzy. Below him lay the tree-tops,
dwarfed, a blur to his throbbing eyes.
A ledge of rock upon which he momentarily rested his weight detached
itself and plunged downward a sheer three hundred feet, crashing
through the underbrush and scrub timber before it burst apart. On hands
and knees he crossed a muddy spot, where a thin trickle of water, no
wider than his thumb, spread out and made the ledge slippery before
it was sucked in by the sun-baked rocks. A swarm of yellow-jackets,
balancing daintily on the wet rock, attacked him viciously when he
disturbed them. He struck at them blindly, instinctively shielding his
eyes, and arose to his feet as he groped onward.
The pack on his back, aside from its weight, was a thing of danger,
for several times it thrust against the wall and lost him his balance,
threatening him with instant destruction; but each time he managed to
save himself by a frantic twist and plunge to his hands and knees,
clawing at the precarious footing with fingers and toes.
At one place he lay prostrate for several minutes before his will,
shaking off the lethargy which numbed him, sent him on again. And the
spur which awakened his dulled senses proved that his frantic haste was
justified; for a sharp, venomous whine overhead was followed by the
flat impact of lead on rock, and a handful of shale and small bits of
stone showered down upon him. The faint, whip-like report in the valley
did not penetrate his roaring ears, for now all he could think of was
the edge of the butte fifty feet above him.
Never had such a distance seemed so great, so impossible to master.
It seemed as though ages passed before he clawed at the rim and flung
himself over it in one great, despairing effort and fell, face down and
sprawling, upon the carpet of grass and flowers. Down in the valley
the persistent reports ceased, but he did not know it; and an hour
passed before he sat up and looked around, dazed and faint. Arising,
he staggered to the pool where Pepper waited for him at the end of her
taut picket rope.
The water was bitter from concentration, but it tasted sweeter to him
than anything he ever had drunk. He dashed it over his face, unmindful
of the increased smarting of the stings and scratches. Resting a few
minutes, he went to the top of the easier trail, up which he had led
the horse, and saw a man creeping along it near the bottom; but the
rustler fled for shelter when Johnny's Sharp's suggested that the trail
led to sudden death.
Having served the notice he lay quietly resting and watching. The heat
of the canyon was gone and he reveled in the crisp coolness of the
breeze which fanned him. As he rested he considered the situation,
and found it good. He was certain that no man would be fool enough
to attempt the way he had come while an enemy occupied the top of
the butte; the trail up the north side could easily be defended; the
other Twin, easy rifle range away, was lower than the one he occupied
and would not be much of a menace if he were careful; he had water in
plenty, food and ammunition for two weeks, and there was plenty of
water and grass for the horse.
Safe as the butte was, he cheerfully damned the necessity which had
driven him out of the canyon: the question of sleep. Dodging and
outwitting four men during his waking hours would not have been an
impossible task; but it only would have been a matter of time before
they would have caught him asleep and helpless.
Returning to the pool, he saw how closely Pepper had cropped the grass
within the radius of the picket rope, changed the stake and then built
a fire, worrying about the scarcity of fuel. Since he could not afford
to waste the wood he cooked a three-days supply of food.
Eating a hearty meal, he made mud-plasters and applied them to
the swollen stings, binding them in place by strips torn from an
undershirt, and then he sought the shade of the ledge by the pool for
a short sleep, which he would have to snatch at odd times during the
day so as to be awake all night, which would be the time of greatest
danger.