THE BACK TRAIL.
Mont Sterry had wisdom enough to turn to the fullest account the
remarkable advantage gained through the sagacity of his mare.
His pursuers, in their haste to head him off, had dashed across the
arroya at a point only a short distance above where he entered and
their leader emerged from it. They were sure to discover the truth in
a short time.
Waiting, therefore, only until they had passed beyond, he rode his
horse a few rods along the depression, and then left it on the same
side by which he had ridden into it.
Unconsciously he fell into an error of which he was not dreaming. In
the short distance passed, the arroya made a sweeping curve, and he
had repeatedly changed his own course since leaving the Whitney ranch.
Thus it was almost inevitable that he should get the points of the
compass mixed, and that he should follow a route widely different from
the one intended.
Had he paused long enough to note the position of the full moon in the
heavens, or the towering Big Horn Mountains, he would have gained an
approximate idea of where he was; but, despite his experience in the
West, he galloped forward at an easy canter, with never a suspicion of
the blunder he was making.
He was on the alert for rustlers, and kept glancing to the right and
left, and to the front and rear. As has been shown, he had little fear
of being overtaken in a chase where he was given an equal chance with
his pursuers, but his narrow escape rendered him more apprehensive
than usual.
"I thought of staying with Weber and Hankinson to-night," he mused,
"but I think it hardly prudent. The rustlers may pay them a visit, and
my presence will only make matters worse; and yet those fellows don't
want to start up a band of regulators who will shoot them down without
mercy, and that's just what will take place if they carry their
outrages too far."
"My death won't bring the regulators into existence," he grimly
reflected, "for one man, more or less, doesn't count; but there is
much bitter feeling in the country."
Once he thought he caught the sounds of horses' feet on the prairie,
and checked his mare to listen, but she gave no evidence of
suspicion--a thing she was sure to do, if the cause existed.
Sterry was so well satisfied by this fact that he did not dismount to
test the matter as before. He rode on, however, and held her down to a
walk.
His eventless course had continued some minutes before a thought came
to him of the direction he was following, with the possibility that he
was wrong.
"I wonder if we are on the right track, Queenie?" he said, addressing
his animal, as was his custom when they were alone. "It would be
strange if we didn't drift away from our bearings. Hello! that can't
be Dick Hawkridge's ranch; we haven't gone far enough for that; but
what the mischief can it be, unless a fire that some one has started
in the open?"
The starlike twinkle of a point of light suddenly shone out directly
in advance. It puzzled him by appearing only for a moment, when it
vanished as quickly as it entered his field of vision.
This fact suggested that it was within some dwelling and had been
extinguished, or was shut from sight by being moved past a window or
open door to another point in the interior.
"We are so near, Queenie, we may as well go farther," he added, not
unmindful of his danger from those who were making such a hot search
for him. He kept his horse on a walk, maintaining a keen watch between
the dainty ears that were already pricked up as if she knew something
was likely to happen quite soon.
Advancing in this deliberate fashion, the outline of one of those
long, low wooden structures so common in the West was gradually defied
in the moonlight, and he knew he was approaching the home of some
ranchman.
But whose? was the question that perplexed him. He recalled that some
of his travelling had been done at a high rate of speed, but the
distance between the Whitney and Hawkridge ranches was fully a dozen
miles, and he was sure that that space had not been covered by him
since bidding his friends good-by earlier in the evening, especially
as he had not followed a direct course.
"Can it be?" he exclaimed, with a sudden suspicion. "Yes, by gracious!
What a blunder!"
The exclamation was caused by the sight of a young man, with one arm
in a sling, who came forward to welcome him.
He had returned to the Whitney home, which he supposed was miles away,
and this was his old friend Fred, who came smilingly forward and said,
as he recognized him:
"I am glad, indeed, to see you, Mont; we heard the sound of the firing
and feared that something had happened to you."
"Nothing at all, thank you, and nothing to Queenie--but that reminds
me," he added, slipping out of the saddle; "she acted once as though
she had been hit, though it wasn't bad enough to show itself in her
gait."
The two made a hasty examination but discovered nothing; proof that,
as her owner said, the wound, if any, was too slight to trouble her.
"Fred, what do you think of my coming back to you in this fashion?"
abruptly asked Sterry, with a laugh, looking around in his friend's
face.
"The most sensible thing you could have done; it redeems your
foolishness in leaving us as you did."
"But my return was involuntary."
"How was that?"
"I thought I was miles distant, and had no idea of my location until I
caught the outlines of your house; I assure you I contemplated no such
performance as this."
"Well, you're here, so what's the use of talking unless you mean to
mount your mare and try it again."
"Hardly that; I have too much mercy on her."
The couple walked past the dwelling to the rude but roomy shelter at
the rear where the horses were sometimes placed when not in use, or
when the severity of the weather made the protection necessary. There
the saddle, bridle and trappings were removed from the mare, and she
was made comfortable. Then the two returned to their seats at the
front of the building, to smoke and chat a few minutes before retiring
for the night.