It came about, quite as matters often do, that at the
three-mile-distant ranch headquarters it was one who knew comparatively
little of the ways of this part of the world who was first to suspect
that all was not well with Judith Sanford. To Pollock Hampton her
failure to appear at dinner was significant.
Together with the other newcomers to the ranch from the city he had
been deeply moved by yesterday's outlawry. Drawing upon a vivid
imagination, he peopled the woods with desperate characters. When
after dinner an hour passed without bringing Judith, he began to show
signs of nervous anxiety. Without making his fears known to his
friends, he went to the office and telephoned to Doc Tripp. All that
Tripp could tell him was that he didn't know where Judith was and
didn't care; she could take care of herself. Though the veterinarian
didn't say as much, he was at the moment puzzled by the new sickness
among the hogs and his irritable concern in this matter allowed him
scant interest in other people's affairs.
Hampton learned from Mrs. Simpson that in the afternoon Judith after a
hurried lunch had taken her rifle and ridden away. Where? Mrs.
Simpson did not know. But she grasped the opportunity to confide in
Hampton a certain suspicion which she held in connection with the
robbery and killing of Bud Lee's horse under him--a suspicion which was
growing rapidly into positive certainty. She didn't like to mention
the matter to him, since Fujioki was his servant. But had he noted
Fujioki and that other black Spanish, José? They had a community of
interest which must extend far beyond racial kinship; they were, even
at this very second, out in the courtyard together talking in subdued
voices. Mrs. Simpson had been raised a lady, Mr. Hampton, sir; and she
knew that in the best families one was not supposed to eavesdrop. But
at a time like this. . . . Well, she _had_ crept up behind the
lilac-bushes and they _were_ speaking guardedly about the hold-up!
Almost in whispers, with every sign of guilt----
"Hurried lunch?" said Hampton. "Took her rifle, did she?"
His eyes had grown very serious as he stared down into Mrs. Simpson's
concerned face.
"Send José to me," was what he said next.
"Aren't you afraid, Mr. Hampton?" she exclaimed, picturing to herself
this pleasant young gentleman at death-grips with the sombre José.
However, she obeyed and called José whom Hampton merely sent to the
men's quarters with word for Carson and Lee to come to the house. Mrs.
Simpson, witnessing the bloodless meeting from the hallway, was a
little relieved and very much disappointed.
Hampton strode up and down the office, the frown gathering upon his
usually smooth brows. Plainly if something had happened to Judith the
present responsibility lay upon his shoulders as next in authority.
"Here I am," announced Carson briefly. "What is it?"
"I am a little worried, Carson," said Hampton, "about Miss Sanford."
"Huh?" grunted the old cattleman.
"Judith hasn't put in an appearance and it's growing late," continued
Hampton hastily "I'm afraid----"
"Afraid? Afraid of what? You don't think she eloped with your Jap or
stole the spoons, do you?" snapped Carson. He had been interrupted at
the crucial point in a game of cribbage with Poker Face and the
cattleman's weak spot was cribbage. He glared at Hampton belligerently.
"Where is Lee?" questioned Hampton sharply. "I told José I wanted the
two of you. Why didn't he come?"
"Dunno," answered Carson, still without interest. "I ain't seen him.
Wasn't in for supper----"
"I tell you," cried Hampton, angry at Carson's quiet acceptance of
facts which to him were darkly significant, "he, too, was out with his
rifle to-day; I saw him myself. Now _he_ fails to show up! Don't you
see what all this points to?"
Carson, who seldom lost his poise with one-half of his brain still
given over to the hand he meant to play with Poker Face, merely sighed
and shook his head.
"I'm real busy down at the bunk-house, Mr. Hampton," at last came his
quiet answer, "where me an' Poker Face is figuring out something
important. As for worrying about a man like Bud Lee or a girl like
Judy, why, I just ain't going to do it a-tall. Most likely if you'll
call up the Lower End----"
"I've done it!" Whirling in his impatient stride across the room,
Hampton came swiftly to Carson's side. "They're not there. They left
the Lower End this afternoon and came on here. Then, both armed, they
rode away again at four or five o'clock. I tell you, man, something
has happened to them."
"Don't believe it," retorted Carson. "Not for one little half-minute,
I don't. What's to happen? Huh?"
"You know as well as I do what sort of characters are about. The man
who robbed Charlie Miller--who shot at Bud Lee----"
"Whoa!" grinned Carson. "Don't you go and fool yourself. That
stick-up gent is a clean hundred miles from here right now an' still
going, real lively. If any other jasper lent him a hand, why, he's on
his way, too. Not stopping to pick flowers. It's the way them kind
plays the game."
Carson was so cheerfully certain, so amused at the thought of Bud Lee
and Judith Sanford requiring anybody's assistance, so confident
concerning the methods of outlaws, that finally Hampton sent him away,
half assured, and went himself to his friends in the living-room. Here
he found the major and Mrs. Langworthy reading and yawning. Marcia
laughed at a jest of Farris's, while Rogers sought to interest her in
himself. The every-day, homelike atmosphere had its effect in allaying
his picturesque fears. Hampton noted how her handful of days in the
country had done Marcia a world of good, putting fresh, warm color in
her rather pale cheeks, breeding a new sparkle in her eyes. She was
good to look upon.
He let half an hour slip by in restless inactivity. For, no matter
what Carson might say or these people in here do, Judith had not yet
come in. When Marcia addressed a bright remark to him, he started and
stammered: "I _beg_ your pardon!" They laughed at him, saying that
Pollock Hampton was growing absent-minded in his old age. But their
banter failed to reach him; he was telling himself that some accident
might have befallen one or both of two persons whom he frankly admired
for their efficiency.
By half past eight they had caught his uneasiness. At every little
sound they turned expectantly. Still no Judith. Mrs. Simpson,
comfortable woman that she was, came in, bustling with apprehension.
Mrs. Langworthy shook off for a little her listlessness and recounted
how she had watched "that girl" riding like a wild Indian toward the
Upper End. Perhaps her gun had gone off accidentally.
"Or," she concluded with a touch of venom, "it wouldn't be above her to
run off with that long horse foreman."
"Eh?" said the major. "Don't believe it. A fine fig--ahem. Where
should she run to? And why run at all?"
Marcia looked a quick distress to Mr. Hampton.
"It _is_ late," she said timidly, "Oh, Pollock! Do you think----"
No longer to be restrained, Hampton left them and went to his room for
a rifle and cartridge-belt. He intended to slip out quietly, feeling
that he would get from Farris and Rogers only the sort of disbelief he
had gotten from Carson. Marcia met him in the hall; she had heard his
quick steps and guessed that he was going out. Now clearly, though she
was frightened, she was delighted with him. He had never thrilled her
like this before. She had never guessed that Pollock Hampton could be
so stern-faced, so purposeful. She whispered an entreaty that he be
careful, then as he went out, ran back to the others, her eyes shining.
"Pollock is going to see what is the matter," she announced excitedly.
Whereat Mrs. Langworthy stared at her and then indicated facially her
supreme disgust. The major suggested taking something, the occasion so
plainly demanding it.
Hampton passed swiftly through the courtyard. He saw the light of the
bunk-house gleaming brightly. On his way down the knoll he came upon
Tommy Burkitt.
"Is it Mr. Hampton?" asked Tommy, coming close in the darkness to peer
at him.
"Yes. What is it? Who are you?"
"I'm Burkitt, Tommy Burkitt, you know--Bud Lee's helper. I--I am
afraid something has happened. Lee hasn't come in yet; they tried to
pick him off once already, you know----"
"Neither has Miss Sanford come in," said Hampton quickly, sensing here
at last a fear that was fellow to his own. "They rode toward the Upper
End. You know the way, Burkitt?"
He moved on toward the corral; Burkitt turned and came with him.
"Sure I know the trail," muttered Tommy. "You're goin' to see what's
wrong with 'em! Miss Judy, too! My God----"
"Bring out a couple of horses," Hampton commanded crisply. "We've lost
time enough already."
"I'll go tell Carson an' the boys----"
"I have already told Carson. He says it's all nonsense. Leave him
alone."
Tommy, boy that he was, asked no further questions, but ran ahead and
brought out two horses. In a twinkling he had saddled them, and the
two riders, each with a rifle across his arm, were hurrying over the
mountain trail.
In the blackness which lay along the upper river Hampton gave his horse
a free rein and let it follow at Tommy's heels. The roar of the
lashing water, the pounding of shod hoofs, the whining creak of
saddle-leather were the only sounds coming to them out of the night.
When, finally, they drew rein under the cliffs at the lake's edge all
was silent save for the faint distant booming of the river below them.
"Now which way?" whispered Hampton, his voice eloquent of suppressed
excitement and eagerness.
Tommy was shaking his head in uncertainty when suddenly from above
there came to them the sharp report of a rifle. Then, like a bundle at
firecrackers, a volley of half a dozen staccato shots.
"Listen to that, Burkitt," muttered Hampton. "They're at it now--we're
on time----"
Tommy slipped from the saddle wordlessly, came to Hampton's side and
tugged gently at his leg, whispering for him to get down. Leaving
their horses there, they slipped into the utter darkness of the narrow
chasm in the rocks which gave access to the plateau above.
"Now," cautioned Tommy guardedly, as they came to the top, "keep close
to me if you don't want to take a header about a thousan' feet. Look!"
He nudged Hampton and pointed. "There are two horses across yonder;
Bud's an' Miss Judy's, most likely."
Hampton did not see them, did not seek to see them. Something new,
vital, big, had swept suddenly into his life. He was at grips
first-hand with unmasked, pulsing forces. A tremor went through him
and he was not ashamed of it; for it was not the quaking of fear, but
the thrill in the blood of a man who, plucked from a round of social
artificialities, finds himself with the smell of burnt powder in his
nostrils and who feels a swift eagerness for what may lie just yonder
waiting for him. "They're at it now!" he whispered to Burkitt.
Men--yes, and a girl--were shooting, not at just wooden and paper
targets, but at other men! At men who shot back, and shot to kill.
"Listen," said Burkitt. "Somebody's in the old cabin; somebody's
outside. Which is which? We got to be awful careful."
They began a slow, cautious approach, slipping from bush to bush, from
tree to tree, standing motionless now and then to frown into the folds
of the night's curtains. Abruptly the firing ceased. They made out
vaguely the two forms of the attackers, having located them a moment
ago by the spurting flames from their guns. Then, "Got enough in
there?" came the snarling voice of Quinnion. "If you haven't, I'm
going to burn you out an' be damned to you!"
He got an answer he little expected. For Hampton, running out into the
open, now that he knew that Bud and Judith must be in the cabin, was
firing as he came. Burkitt's rifle spoke with his.
"Run for it, Shorty!" yelled Quinnion. "You know where. We're up
against the Blue Lake boys."
"Bud!" shouted Tommy. "Oh, Bud!"
"In the cabin," came Bud's ringing answer. "Give 'em hell, Tommy!
Coming!"
With his words came the sound of the door snapping back against the
wall, the reports of Tommy's rifle and Hampton's pumping hot lead after
two racing forms.
"They'll get away!" shouted Hampton, a sudden red rage upon him.
"Curse it! It's too dark----"
Then Tommy gave over shooting and yelled to Lee to hold his fire. For
instead of two there were three flying forms, three fast-racing,
blurring, shadowy shapes merging with the night. Pollock Hampton, his
rifle clubbed in his hand, was running with a college sprinter's speed
after Quinnion and Shorty, calling breathlessly:
"Look out, they'll get away!"
Once Quinnion stopped to shoot back. The hissing lead went wide of the
pursuer and he gave over firing and settled down to good, hard running,
disappearing from Hampton's staring eyes. But Shorty was still to be
seen, running heavily.
"Don't shoot, Bud!" cried Tommy again as two figures ran out of the
cabin. "Hampton's out there--the crazy fool----"
"Hampton, come back!" shouted Lee, running after him.
But Hampton was gaining on the heavy-set Shorty and had no thought of
coming back. Nor a thought of anything in all the wide world just then
but overtaking the flying figure in front of him. Shorty stumbled over
a fallen log and rose, cursing and calling:
"Chris! Lend a hand."
That little chance of an uprooted tree saved Hampton's life that night.
Shorty, falling, had dropped his gun and hurt his knee. For a moment
he groped wildly for the lost rifle, then ran on without it. Hampton
cleared the log, and with a yell rather befitting a victorious savage
than the young man whom Mrs. Langworthy hoped to call her son, threw
his long arms about Shorty's neck.
"I got him!" shouted Hampton. "By glory----"
Shorty drove a big brutal fist smashing into his captor's face. But
Hampton merely lowered his head, hiding it against Shorty's heaving
shoulder, and tightened his grip. Shorty struggled to his feet,
shaking at him, tearing at him, driving one fist after the other into
Hampton's body. But with a grimness of purpose as new to him as was
the whole of to-night's adventure Hampton held on.
Judith and Lee and Burkitt came to them as they were falling again.
Now suddenly, with other hard hands upon him, Shorty relaxed, and
Hampton, his face bloody, his body sore, sank back. He had done a mad
thing--but triumph lay in that he had done it.
"A man never can tell," muttered Bud Lee, with less thought of the
captive than of the captor--"never can tell."
"I am thinking," said Judith wonderingly, "that I never quite did you
justice, Pollock Hampton!"