PREPARATIONS TO FLIT
The next morning Stamford was again disappointed: the cowpunchers had
not returned. He walked on from the cook-house to Pink Eye's corral,
to see by daylight what had seemed so incredible in the light of the
moon. On the way back he saw the Bulkeleys driving to the
north-west; they were not crossing the river that day.
Carrying a lunch, he set off for the river skirting far out on the
prairie that he might reach the canyon unseen far above where the
Professor was working. Arrived at last in the cover of the upper
cliffs, he hurried on.
The hidden valley interested him. There he knew, lay the solution of
some of the ranch mysteries. The stampede of the night before was
significant, for the H-Lazy Z herds never ranged there. The cattle,
he decided, were on their way to the raft and the hidden valley.
As he approached the valley he could hear the dogs barking
continuously but without excitement. He discovered that the valley
was lively with cowboys, the members he knew best of the H-Lazy Z
outfit. They were moving about the fringes of the herd, carefully
avoiding a bunch that kept to itself in a far corner of the valley.
From its ragged and wild appearance Stamford took it to be the
addition of the night before. The others the cowboys drove on foot
to the eastern end of the valley, where a temporary barricade crossed
from cliff to cliff, forming a corral at the base of the only exit.
Then three of them disappeared, coming into view again on their
horses from behind concealing crags. At a word from Dakota the two
dogs that had been all the time slinking close to his heels bounded
up to the ledge beside the shack and lay down, their eyes still fixed
on Dakota. The mounted cowboys gradually worked the new bunch toward
the corral.
Evidently the cattle were being collected at the exit for immediate
removal.
About the shack Bean Slade was acting as temporary cook. The others,
when all the cattle were in the corral, grouped together, rolling
cigarettes. Dakota seated himself on a rock and whistled to the
dogs, which came madly bounding down the steps.
There was no suggestion of furtiveness. Stamford began to think he
had come on one of the ordinary feeding grounds of the ranch herds.
To get a better view behind the crags, he crept farther up the stream
and lower on the cliff--crept into the muzzle of a revolver. Behind
the muzzle was Cockney Aikens' determined eye.
"So it's you, Stamford?" he sneered. "That investigative mind of
yours is bound to get you into trouble sooner or later. I wonder it
wasn't sooner. It strikes me you're acting strangely about the
H-Lazy Z for a guest."
Stamford flushed, partly because he knew the charge to be true,
though not in the way Cockney imagined. Almost as much for Cockney's
sake as for his own had he undertaken to clear up the mystery of
Corporal Faircloth's death; _more_ for Cockney's sake had he chosen
the H-Lazy Z for his investigations. He bristled with indignation.
"If you're not as guilty as you make yourself appear----"
"A guest with a sense of decency would at least have consulted his
host."
"And if you're guilty," Stamford continued, "I don't care a damn
whether you resent it or not."
Cockney examined him with puzzled but admiring eyes.
"I wonder if you'd be so foolhardy if Dakota was at this end of the
gun. I'm not going to shoot. I'm still your host."
"No, you're not, Cockney Aikens. From this moment I'm no longer your
guest." He unstrapped the lunch and tossed it at Cockney's feet. "I
suppose you'll let me get my suit-case?"
Cockney thoughtfully returned the gun to his belt.
"If you'll take the advice of one who knows at last all you don't
understand, you'll keep so strictly out of this that you'll forget
all you've heard and seen. You don't carry a gun--you wouldn't be
dangerous if you did. Yet there's going to be shooting before this
is cleared up ... and when there's shooting among men who handle guns
like we do, there's apt to be blood.... This is the second time I've
found it necessary to warn you. Next time will be too late."
He crept away to a lower level and left Stamford wondering what it
was all about.
Across in the valley Dakota had gathered his companions about him,
except Bean, who was still working about the shack. Evidently they
were engrossed in a discussion of the utmost importance, for several
were gesticulating, and Dakota was listening judicially. Now and
then their eyes went furtively to the shack where Bean was. Through
the open door Stamford could dimly see Bean watching them stealthily
through the window. After a time Dakota broke from the group and
climbed the steps to the shack.
In a few minutes he and Bean reappeared on the ledge, Dakota arguing
violently, Bean sullen. Dakota started angrily down the steps, but
Bean stood a moment on the ledge, looking thoughtfully across the
river at the very spot where Stamford was lying. Then he, too,
dropped to the valley.
Dakota was striding down toward the river. As he crossed one of the
little streams that bubbled from the falls in the cliff he stopped
abruptly and bent over the ground. An excited gesticulation brought
his companions on the run, and together they stooped over Dakota's
discovery. The Professor had crossed the streams there, Stamford
remembered, and the ground would be soft. Hastily scattering, the
cowboys searched the valley.
It was long before Alkali, poking about close to the river, came on a
second track, and they clustered about it, gesticulating, excited,
voluble. Stamford leaned far from his hiding-place in his
excitement, and Muck Norsley, wheeling suddenly, examined the cliff
all about him. But the distance was too great, the muddle of broken
rock too confusing; and Stamford scarcely breathed during the
scrutiny. When it was over he sank to cover, and perspiration broke
out over him.
Dakota and his friends continued their search up the eastern slope
from the valley, pausing now and then as if over further disturbing
evidence. They climbed upward to the great rock on which Cockney and
the Professor had stood, mounting from below by means of a rope. For
a time they worked about its base, then it rolled back and the upward
path was clear.
As the horses toiled up the steep ascent, Stamford noticed that a
rifle hung from every saddle. When they had passed, the rock rolled
back again, shutting in the valley, and only the cattle in the corral
and the dogs remained.
Stamford commenced his rough trail back down the river, always
keeping to cover. Only two definite ideas were in his mind: to
escape notice, and to reach the Bulkeleys to borrow their team for
the journey to the Double Bar-O. His work at the H-Lazy Z was
ended--and it was a failure. Almost he could find it in him to
regret that he had lost his temper with Cockney.