A WASTED BULLET
Then Dorothy did an astonishing thing—for her. She leaned over and
kissed Garry with such an air of faith and trust that Tavia turned away.
She had a horrible suspicion that she was going to cry.
But the sudden appearance of Hank Ledger and others of the ranch hands
saved Tavia from that fate.
After one long look at Dorothy, in which she could read many things,
Garry turned to the newcomers. He rapidly went over the details of Joe’s
disappearance and enlisted their aid in carrying out a more thorough
search than had yet been made.
Dorothy thrilled when she saw how ready they all were to back him up.
But Garry knew that it was not only for him or for Dorothy or for Joe
that they so readily promised their help, although he had reason to
believe that they were all friends of his, but because they one and all
hated Larrimer and his gang with a deadly hatred and welcomed the chance
to even up some old scores.
There was one young “broncho buster,” a strapping lad in his early
twenties, who testified to having seen a boy and two men riding toward
the mountains.
Garry whirled on him swiftly.
“Who were these two men?” he demanded.
The young fellow shook his head sadly.
“I sure would give a barrel of money to be able to honestly tell you
that, boss,” he answered. “I tried to get up to them, but they was goin’
all-fired fast and when they saw me they continued on the way they was
goin’, only about three times as fast.”
“Why didn’t you all try a bullet on him, Steve?” drawled one of his
mates as he slouched in the saddle, hat drawn low over a pair of fiery
blue eyes. “That there might have added an element of persuasion, so to
speak.”
“Yes, that there’s just what I did,” the youngster responded sadly. “And
wasted a good bullet on a couple o’ rattlesnakes. Even at that distance
I was middlin’ sure I recognized ’em.”
“Well, speak out, man,” commanded Garry sharply. “We’re in a hurry. Who
were they, to your thinking?”
“Near’s I could make out they was Philo Marsh and Stiffbold, boss,”
returned the lad, and a muttering like the rumble of thunder in the
distance came from the little knot of men. “Philo tries to ride his
horse’s head and bounces in the saddle like a tenderfoot. I couldn’t be
so sure about Stiffbold, but I was sure enough to waste a good bullet on
him.”
“Well, let’s go!” cried Garry, wheeling his horse so suddenly that it
reared and bucked alarmingly. “With the information you have been able
to give us, Steve, we ought to be able to find these fellows without
much difficulty. We will be back before long, Dorothy, and the next time
you see us we will have Joe along. Promise not to worry!”
Dorothy looked at him in swift alarm.
“You don’t mean that you intend to go without me and Tavia!” she cried,
still incredulous, though he nodded decisively in answer. “Why, Garry,
you can’t! We can’t stay here alone, thinking, wondering!”
“But this is a man’s job, Dorothy,” Garry explained gently. “You would
only hamper us and hold us back in the search for Joe. You don’t want to
do that, do you?”
Dorothy turned away, her lip quivering. Garry took her hand and gripped
it fiercely for a moment. Then turned to his men and nodded.
“Let’s go!” he called again, and there was an answering shout,
triumphant and fierce, as the others closed in after him and galloped
down the road in a cloud of dust.
The two girls remained quiet until the clatter of hoofs had died away in
the distance, Dorothy, trying to fight the bitter disappointment that
burned within her, Tavia staring thoughtfully after the cavalcade.
The latter finally looked at Dorothy, a quizzical and sympathetic smile
playing about the corners of her mouth.
“Come on, Doro, don’t take it so much to heart,” she urged, adding
judicially: “Of course you know Garry is right—really—although it isn’t
very pleasant to be told that you will be in the way.”
“I shouldn’t be in the way. He doesn’t know me yet,” said Dorothy, in a
stifled voice. “And I wanted to go with him, to look for Joe.”
“Of course you did, you poor dear,” said Tavia sympathetically. Then she
added, as a daring gleam crept into her pretty eyes: “And I don’t know
that Garry ought to have everything to say about it, at that!”
Dorothy turned quickly toward her. A hot flush rose to her face.
“What do you mean?” she demanded.
“Oh, Doro, you know well enough what I mean. Why pretend you don’t?” By
this time Tavia’s eyes were frankly dancing. “Since when, I ask you,
have we come to the point where we may be ordered about by any man?”
“You mean,” cried Dorothy breathlessly, “that you suggest that we
organize a search party of two?”
“Who said I was suggesting anything?” protested Tavia impishly. “I can’t
open my mouth but what my words are misconstrued.”
“Misconstrued, your grandmother!” retorted Dorothy rudely, at which
Tavia chuckled in great delight. “I haven’t lived with you all my life,
Tavia—more or less—without being pretty sure what you mean, as a rule.
Are you coming or must I go alone?”
“Well, of all the nerve!” crowed Tavia in huge delight, as she spurred
her mount down the road in the wake of Dorothy’s mettlesome pony. “I’ll
say there is nothing slow about Dorothy these days—or Garry either. This
promises to be a real interesting party.”
“I say, Dorothy,” she called, as she urged her pony neck and neck with
Dorothy’s galloping mount, “we ought to work out some plan of attack,
you know. We really ought. We’ll probably just be rushing into trouble
this way.”
With difficulty Dorothy drew her pony to a walk and regarded her chum
thoughtfully.
“I don’t know how we can make any plans when we haven’t the slightest
idea what we are going to do next,” she said.
“We know just as much as Garry,” Tavia retorted. “That good-looking
cowboy—Steve, did Garry call him—said that the two men and the boy
disappeared in that direction,” and she swept an arm toward the
mountains rising majestically before them. “Look!” she cried suddenly,
leaning from the saddle and gripping Dorothy’s arm. “Do you see those
two tall peaks with the smaller one between? If we keep our eye on that
formation we can’t go far wrong.”
“But we shall lose sight of your church spires as soon as we enter the
woods,” objected Dorothy, and Tavia’s face fell.
“That’s right,” she admitted. “You’re a better man than I am, Dorothy
Dale. Oh, but I’ll tell you what,” she added, on the crest of another
illumining thought. “There’s a trail—the one we used to follow when we
were here before, don’t you remember? I am very sure that winds through
the woods in the general direction Steve pointed out. It probably is the
very one the kidnappers used when they spirited Joe away,” she added
triumphantly.
“I wish you wouldn’t call them kidnappers, Tavia,” Dorothy objected
nervously. “It sounds so horrid.”
“Well, I could think of a good many worse things to call Philo Marsh and
your gallant friend, Stiffbold,” retorted Tavia. “Doro—I do believe—why,
yes, here is the trail right here!”
Tavia had checked her horse at the edge of the wood and Dorothy turned
her own pony, riding back to her.
“Looks like a pretty dark and gloomy one to me,” she said, eyeing the
narrow, rocky path through the woods with marked disfavor. “But if it’s
the best you can do, I suppose we might try it.”
“Such is gratitude!” sighed Tavia. “I ought never to expect it.”
“Tavia!” Dorothy was ahead, leading her horse carefully up the narrow
trail that rose steeply as it followed the rise of the mountain. Her
voice, muffled, came back eerily to Tavia as she followed. “I suppose
Aunt Winnie would think we were crazy to do a thing like this.”
“We are,” retorted Tavia, adding with a chuckle: “But as soon as I cease
to be crazy I shall want to die!”
“The Major would understand though,” said Dorothy, still as though
talking to herself. “He would know that I couldn’t stand back and just
wait when Joe was in danger.”
“You bet he would, honey,” said Tavia reassuringly. “You could count on
the Major to understand every time.”
“Do you think we are following the right trail?” Dorothy asked, some
time later.
They had reached a level spot and paused to rest their ponies, and were
looking back the way they had come.
“I don’t know,” returned Tavia, with a thoughtful shake of her head.
“All we can do is to follow the trail as far as it goes, Doro, and hope
for the best. Hark! What’s that?”