A RESCUE
When Alice Marcum opened her eyes the timber was in darkness. The moon
had not yet topped the divide and through an opening in the trees the
girl could see the dim outlines of an endless sea of peaks and ridges
that stretched away to the eastward. The voice of the Texan sounded in
her ears: "Come alive, now! We got to eat an' pull out of here in an
hour's time if we're goin' to fetch the bad lands by daylight."
Peering around the edge of her shelter tent she could see him,
coffee-pot in hand, standing beside the tiny flame that licked at the
dry pine shavings of a newly kindled fire.
He turned and made his way to the creek that burbled over the rocks a
short way down the ravine and Alice drew on her riding-boots and joined
Endicott who had made his way painfully toward the fire where he stood
gazing ruefully at the begrimed wreck of a white collar which he held
in his hand. The Texan returned and placed the coffee-pot close
against the tiny blaze.
"When you get through invoicin' yer trooso, Winthrup, it wouldn't delay
us none if you'd grasp that there hand-ax an' carve out a little
fire-fodder." He glanced up at Alice. "An' if cookin' of any kind has
be'n inclooded in your repretwa of accomplishments, you might sizzle up
a hunk of that sow-belly, an' keep yer eye on this here pot. An' if
Winthrup should happen to recover from his locomotive attacksyou an'
hack off a limb or two, you can get a little bigger blaze a-goin' an',
just before that water starts to burn, slop in a fistful of java.
You'll find some dough-gods an' salve in one of them canvas bags, an'
when you're all set, holler. I'll throw the kaks on these cayuses, an'
Bat, he can wrastle with the pack."
Alice looked into the Texan's face with a peculiar little puckering of
the brows, and laughed: "See here, Mr. Tex," she said, "of course, I
know that java must be coffee, but if you will kindly render the rest
of your remarks a little less caliginous by calling the grub by its
Christian name, maybe I'll get along better with the breakfast."
The Texan was laughing now, a wholesome, hearty laugh in which was no
trace of cynicism, and the girl felt that for the first time she had
caught a glimpse of the real man, the boyish, whole-hearted man that
once or twice before she had suspected existed behind the mask of the
sardonic smile. From that moment she liked him and at the breezy
whimsicality of his next words she decided that it would be well worth
the effort to penetrate the mask.
"The dude, or dictionary, names for the above specified commodities is
bacon, biscuits, an' butter. An' referrin' back to your own
etymological spasm, the word 'grub' shows a decided improvement over
anything you have uttered previous. I had expected 'food' an' wouldn't
have hardly batted an' eye at 'viands,' an' the caliginous part of it
is good, only, if you aim to obfuscate my convolutions you'll have to
dig a little deeper. Entirely irrelevant to syntax an' the allied
trades, as the feller says, I'll add that them leggin's of yourn is on
the wrong legs, an' here comes Winthrup with a chip."
Turning abruptly, the man made his way toward the horses, and as
Endicott approached with an armful of firewood, the contrast between
the men was brought sharply to the girl's notice. The Texan, easy and
lithe of movement as an animal born to the wild, the very tilt of his
soft-brimmed hat and the set of his clothing bespeaking conscious
mastery of his environment--a mastery that the girl knew was not
confined to the subduing of wild cattle and horses and the following of
obscure trails in the nighttime. Never for a moment had the air of
self-confidence deserted him. With the same easy assurance that he had
flung his loop about the shoulders of the Mayor of Wolf River he had
carried off the honours of the tournament, insulted Purdy to his face,
dictated to the deputy sheriff, and planned and carried out the release
of Endicott from the grip of the law. And what was most surprising of
all, never had he shown a trace of the boorish embarrassment or
self-consciousness which, up to the moment of his brutal attack upon
her, had characterized the attitude of Purdy. And the girl realized
that beneath his picturesque slurring and slashing of English, was a
familiarity with words that had never been picked up in the cow-country.
Endicott tossed down his wood, and Alice could not help but notice the
sorry appearance of the erstwhile faultlessly dressed gentleman who
stood collarless and unshaven, the once delicately lined silk shirt
filthy with trail dust, and the tailored suit wrinkled and misshapen as
the clothing of a tramp. She noted, too, that his movements were
awkward and slow with the pain of overtaxed muscles, and that the stiff
derby hat he had been forced to jam down almost to the tops of his ears
had left a grimy red band across his forehead. She smiled as her eyes
swept the dishevelled and uncouth figure.
"I am glad," said Endicott with asperity, as he brushed the dirt and
bits of bark from his coat, "that you find the situation so humorous.
It must be highly gratifying to know that it is of your own making."
The tone roused the girl's anger and she glanced up as she finished
lacing her leggings.
"Yes," she answered, sweetly, "it is--very. And one of the most
amusing features is to watch how a man's disposition crabs with the
mussing of his clothing. No wonder the men who live out here wear
things that won't muss, or there wouldn't be but one left and he'd be
just a concentrated chunk of unadulterated venom. Really, Winthrop,
you do look horrid, and your disposition is perfectly nasty. But,
cheer up, the worst is yet to come, and if you will go down to the
creek and wash your hands, you can come back and help me with the grub.
You can get busy and dig the dough-gods and salve out of that sack
while I sizzle up the sow-belly."
Endicott regarded her with a frown of disapproval: "Why this
preposterous and vulgar talk?"
"Adaptability to environment," piped the girl, glibly. "You can't get
along by speaking New York in Montana, any easier than you can with
English in Cincinnati."
Endicott turned away with a sniff of disgust, and the girl's lips drew
into a smile which she meant to be an exact replica of the Texan's as
she proceeded to slice strips of bacon into the frying-pan.
The meal was a silent affair, and during its progress the moon rose
clear of the divide and hung, a great orange ball, above the high-flung
peaks. Almost simultaneously with the rising of the moon, the wind
rose, and scuds of cloud-vapour passed, low down, blurring the higher
peaks.
"We got to get a move on," opined the Texan, with an eye on the clouds.
"Throw them dishes into the pack the way they are, an' we'll clean 'em
when we've got more time. There's a storm brewin' west of here an' we
want to get as far as we can before she hits."
By the time the others were in the saddle, Bat was throwing the final
hitch on his pack outfit, and with the Texan in the lead, the little
cavalcade headed southward.
An hour's climb, during which they skirted patches of scrub pine,
clattered over the loose rocks of ridges, and followed narrow,
brush-choked coulees to their sources, found them on the crest of the
Cow Creek divide.
The wind, blowing half a gale from the south-east, whipped about their
faces and roared and whistled among the rocks and scrub timber.
Alice's eyes followed the Texan's glance toward the west and there, low
down on the serried horizon she could see the black mass of a cloud
bank.
"You can't tell nothin' about those thunderheads. They might hold off
'til along towards mornin', they might pile up on us in an hour, and
they might not break at all," vouchsafed the man, as Alice reined in
her horse close beside his.
"But the wind is from the other direction!"
"Yes, it generally is when the thunder-storms get in their work. If we
can get past the Johnson fences we can take it easy an' camp most
anywhere when the storm hits, but if we get caught on this side without
no moonlight to travel by an' have to camp over tomorrow in some
coulee, there's no tellin' who'll run onto us. This south slope's
infested some plentiful by the riders of three or four outfits." He
headed his horse down the steep descent, the others following in single
file.
As the coulee widened Alice found herself riding by the Texan's side.
"Oh, don't you just love the wild country!" she exclaimed, breaking a
long interval of silence. "The plains and the mountains, the woods and
the creeks, and the wonderful air----"
"An' the rattlesnakes, an' the alkali, an' the soap-holes, an' the
quicksand, an' the cactus, an' the blisterin' sun, an' the lightnin',
an' the rain, an' the snow, an' the ice, an' the sleet----"
The girl interrupted him with a laugh: "Were you born a pessimist, or
has your pessimism been acquired?"
The Texan did not lift his eyes from the trail: "Earnt, I reckon, would
be a better word. An' I don't know as it's pessimism, at that, to look
in under the crust of your pie before you bite it. If you'd et flies
for blueberries as long as I have, you'd----"
"I'd ask for flies, and then if there were any blueberries the surprise
would be a pleasant one."
"Chances are, there wouldn't be enough berries to surprise you none
pleasant. Anyhow, that would be kind of forcin' your luck. Follerin'
the same line of reasoning a man ort to hunt out a cactus to set on
so's he could be surprised pleasant if it turned out to be a Burbank
one."
"You're hopeless," laughed the girl. "But look--the moonlight on the
peaks! Isn't it wonderful! See how it distorts outlines, and throws a
mysterious glamour over the dark patches of timber. Corot would have
loved it."
The Texan shook his head: "No. It wouldn't have got _to him_. He
couldn't never have got into the feel of stuff like that. Meakin did,
and Remington, but it takes old Charlie Russell to pick it right out of
the air an' slop it onto canvas."
Alice regarded the man in wonder. "You do love it!" she said. "Why
should you be here if you didn't love it?"
"Bein' a cow-hand, it's easier to make a livin' here than in New York
or Boston. I've never be'n there, but I judge that's the case."
"But you are a cow-hand from choice. You have an education and you
could----"
"No. All the education I've got you could pile onto a dime, an' it
wouldn't kill more'n a dozen men. Me an' the higher education flirted
for a couple of years or so, way back yonder in Austin, but owin' to
certain an' sundry eccentricities of mine that was frowned on by
civilization, I took to the brush an' learnt the cow business. Then
after a short but onmonotonous sojourn in Las Vegas, me an' Bat came
north for our health. . . . Here's Johnson's horse pasture. We've got
to slip through here an' past the home ranch in a quiet an'
onobstrusive manner if we aim to preserve the continuity of Winthrup's
spinal column."
"Can't we go around?" queried the girl.
"No. The coulee is fenced clean acrost an' way up to where even a goat
couldn't edge past. We've got to slip through. Once we get past the
big reservoir we're all right. I'll scout on ahead."
The cowboy swung to the ground and threw open the barbed-wire gate.
"Keep straight on through, Bat, unless you hear from me. I'll be
waitin' by the bunk-house. Chances are, them salamanders will all be
poundin' their ear pretty heavy, bein' up all last night to the dance."
He galloped away and the others followed at a walk. For an hour no one
spoke.
"I thought that fence enclosed a pasture, not a county," growled
Endicott, as he clumsily shifted his weight to bear on a spot less sore.
"_Oui_, dat hoss pasture she 'bout seven mile long. Den we com' by de
ranch, an' den de reservoir, an' de hay fences." The half-breed opened
a gate and a short distance down the creek Alice made out the dark
buildings of the ranch. As they drew nearer the girl felt her heart
race madly, and the soft thud of the horse's feet on the sod sounded
like the thunder of a cavalry charge. Grim and forbidding loomed the
buildings. Not a light showed, and she pictured them peopled with
lurking forms that waited to leap out as they passed and throttle the
man who had rescued her from the brutish Purdy. She was sorry she had
been nasty to Endicott. She wanted to tell him so, but it was too
late. She thought of the revolver that Jennie had given her, and
slipping her hand into her pocket she grasped it by the butt. At
least, she could do for him what he had done for her. She could shoot
the first man to lay hands on him.
Suddenly her heart stood still and her lips pressed tight. A rider
emerged from the black shadow of the bunk-house.
"Hands up!" The girl's revolver was levelled at the man's head, and
the next instant she heard the Texan laugh softly.
"Just point it the other way, please, if it's loaded. A fellow shot me
with one of those once an' I had a headache all the rest of the
evenin'." His horse nosed in beside hers. "It's just as I thought,"
he explained. "Everyone around the outfit's dead to the world. Bein'
up all night dancin', an' most of the next day trailin' home, you
couldn't get 'em up for a poker game--let alone hangin' a pilgrim."
Alice's fear vanished the moment the Texan appeared. His air of
absolute self-confidence in his ability to handle a situation compelled
the confidence of others.
"Aren't your nerves ever shaken? Aren't you ever afraid?" she asked.
Tex smiled: "Nerve ain't in not bein' afraid," he answered evasively,
"but in not lettin' folks know when you're afraid."
Another gate was opened, and as they passed around the scrub-capped
spur of a ridge that projected into the widening valley, the girl drew
her horse up sharply and pointed ahead.
"Oh! A little lake!" she cried enthusiastically. "See how the
moonlight shimmers on the tiny waves."
Heavy and low from the westward came an ominous growl of thunder.
"Yes. An' there'll be somethin' besides moonlight a-shimmerin' around
here directly. That ain't exactly a lake. It's Johnson's irrigation
reservoir. If we could get about ten miles below here before the storm
hits, we can hole up in a rock cave 'til she blows over. The creek
valley narrows down to a canyon where it cuts through the last ridge of
mountains.
"Hit 'er up a little, Bat. We'll try an' make the canyon!"
A flash of lightning illumined the valley, and glancing upward, Alice
saw that the mass of black clouds was almost overhead. The horses were
forced into a run as the hills reverberated to the mighty roll of the
thunder. They were following a well-defined bridle trail and scarcely
slackened their pace as they splashed in and out of the water where the
trail crossed and recrossed the creek. One lightning flash succeeded
another with such rapidity that the little valley was illuminated
almost to the brightness of day, and the thunder reverberated in one
continuous roar.
With the buildings of Johnson's ranch left safely behind, Alice's
concern for Endicott's well-being cooled perceptibly.
"He needn't to have been so hateful, just because I laughed at him,"
she thought, and winced at a lightning flash. Her lips pressed
tighter. "I hate thunder-storms--to be out in them. I bet we'll all
be soaked and--" There was a blinding flash of light, the whole valley
seemed filled with a writhing, twisting rope of white fire, and the
deafening roar of thunder that came simultaneously with the flash made
the ground tremble. It was as though the world had exploded beneath
their feet, and directly in the forefront the girl saw a tall dead
cottonwood split in half and topple sidewise. And in the same instant
she caught a glimpse of Endicott's face. It was very white. "He's
afraid," she gritted, and at the thought her own fear vanished, and in
its place came a wild spirit of exhilaration. This was life. Life in
the raw of which she had read and dreamed but never before experienced.
Her horse stopped abruptly. The Texan had dismounted and was pulling
at the huge fragment of riven trunk that barred the trail.
"We'll have to lead 'em around through the brush, there. We can't
budge this boy."
Scattering rain-drops fell--huge drops that landed with a thud and
splashed broadly.
"Get out the slickers, Bat. Quick now, or we're in for a wettin'." As
he spoke the man stepped to Alice's side, helped her to the ground, and
loosened the pack-strings of her saddle. A moment later he held a huge
oilskin of brilliant yellow, into the sleeves of which the girl thrust
her arms. There was an odour as of burning sulphur and she sniffed the
air as she buttoned the garment about her throat.
The Texan grinned: "Plenty close enough I'll say, when you get a whiff
of the hell-fire. Better wait here 'til I find a way through the
brush. An' keep out of reach of the horse's heels with that slicker
on. You can't never trust a cayuse, 'specially when they can't more'n
half see. They're liable to take a crack at you for luck."
Grasping his bridle reins the Texan disappeared and by the lightning
flashes she could see him forcing his way through the thicket of
willows. The scattering drops changed to a heavy downpour. The
moonlight had long since been obliterated and the short intervals
between the lightning flashes were spaces of intense blackness. A
yellow-clad figure scrambled over the tree trunk and the cowboy took
the bridle reins from her hand.
"You slip through here. I'll take your horse around."
On the other side, the cowboy assisted her to mount, and pulling his
horse in beside hers, led off down the trail. The rain steadily
increased in volume until the flashes of lightning showed only a grey
wall of water, and the roar of it blended into the incessant roar of
the thunder. The horses splashed into the creek and wallowed to their
bellies in the swirling water.
The Texan leaned close and shouted to make himself heard.
"They don't make 'em any worse than this. I've be'n out in some
considerable rainstorms, take it first an' last, but I never seen it
come down solid before. A fish could swim anywheres through this."
"The creek is rising," answered the girl.
"Yes, an' we ain't goin' to cross it many more times. In the canyon
she'll be belly-deep to a giraffe, an' we got to figure a way out of
the coulee 'fore we get to it."
Alice was straining her ears to catch his words, when suddenly, above
the sound of his voice, above the roar of the rain and the crash and
roll of thunder, came another sound--a low, sullen growl--indefinable,
ominous, terrible. The Texan, too, heard the sound and, jerking his
horse to a standstill, sat listening. The sullen growl deepened into a
loud rumble, indescribably horrible. Alice saw that the Texan's face
was drawn into a tense, puzzled frown. A sudden fear gripped her
heart. She leaned forward and the words fairly shrieked from her lips.
"It's the reservoir!"
The Texan whirled to face the others whose horses had crowded close and
stood with drooping heads.
"The reservoir's let go!" he shouted, and pointed into the grey wall of
water at right angles to their course. "Ride! Ride like hell an' save
yourselves! I'll look after her!" The next instant he whirled his
horse against the girl's.
"Ride straight ahead!" he roared. "Give him his head an' hang on!
I'll stay at his flank, an' if you go down we'll take a chance
together!"
Slipping the quirt from the horn of his saddle the cowboy brought it
down across her horse's flank and the animal shot away straight into
the opaque grey wall. Alice gave the horse a loose rein, set her lips,
and gripped the horn of her saddle as the brute plunged on.
The valley was not wide. They had reached a point where its sides
narrowed to form the mouth of the canyon. The pound of the horse's
feet was lost in the titanic bombilation of the elements--the incessant
crash and rumble of thunder and the ever increasing roar of rushing
waters. At every jump the girl expected her frantic horse to go down,
yet she was conscious of no feeling of fear. She glanced over her
shoulder, but the terrific downpour acted as a curtain through which
her eyes could not penetrate with the aid even of the most vivid
flashes of lightning. Yet she knew that the Texan rode at her flank
and that the others followed--Endicott and Bat, with his pack-horse
close-snubbed to his saddle-horn. Suddenly the girl felt her horse
labouring. His speed slackened perceptibly. As abruptly as it started
the rain stopped; and she saw that water was swirling about his knees.
Saw also by the aid of a lightning flash that throughout its width the
valley was a black sea of tossing water. Before her the bank was very
close and she jerked her horse toward a point where the perpendicular
sides of a cutbank gave place to a narrow plane that slanted steeply
upward. It seemed to the girl that the steep ascent would be
impossible for the horses but it was the only chance. She glanced
backward. The Texan was close behind, and following him were the
others, their horses wallowing to their bellies. She had reached the
hill and so steep was its pitch that her horse seemed perpendicular to
the earth's surface. She leaned over the horn and twisted her fingers
into his mane as the animal, his feet clear of the water, clawed and
scrambled like a cat to gain the top. Another moment and he had pulled
himself over the edge and the girl leaped to the ground. The Texan had
not followed to the top but had halted his horse at the edge of the
water that was mounting steadily higher. Bat swung in with his pack
horse and with his quirt Tex forced them up the embankment. Endicott's
horse was all but swimming. The water came above the man's knees as
the animal fought for footing. The Texan leaned far out and, grasping
the bridle, drew him in to the bank and quirted him to the top. Then,
as the three watched, he headed his own horse upward. Scarcely had the
animal come clear of the water when the eager watchers saw that
something was wrong.
"De cinch--she bus'!" cried the half-breed excitedly. "Dat dam' Purdy
cut de cinch an' A'm trade Tex mine for ride de outlaw, an' we trade
back. _Voila_!" As the man talked, he jerked the coiled rope from his
saddle and rushed to the edge. Alice, too, crowded to the bank, her
hands tight clenched as she saw the man, the saddle gone from under
him, clinging desperately to the bridle reins, his body awash in the
black waters. Saw also that his weight on the horse's head was causing
the animal to quit the straight climb and to plunge and turn
erratically. It was evident that both horse and rider must be hurled
into the flood. The fury of the storm had passed. The rumble of
thunder was distant now. The flashes of lightning came at greater
intervals, and with a pale glow instead of the dazzling brilliance of
the nearer flashes. Through a great rift in the cloud-bank the moon
showed, calm and serene above the mad rush of black waters.
For a single instant Alice gazed into the up-turned face of the Texan,
and in that instant she saw his lips curve into the familiar cynical
smile. Then he calmly let go the reins and slipped silently beneath
the black water, as the released horse scrambled to the top. Beside
her, Endicott uttered an oath and, tearing at the buttons of his
slicker, dashed the garment to the ground. His coat followed, and
stooping he tore the shoes from his feet and poised on the very edge of
the flood. With a cry she sprang to his side and gripped his arm, but
without a word he shook her roughly away, and as a dark form appeared
momentarily upon the surface of the flood he plunged in.
Alice and Bat watched as the moonlight showed the man swimming with
strong, sure strokes toward the spot where a moment before the dark
form had appeared upon the surface. Then he dived, and the
swift-rushing water purled and gurgled as it closed over the spot where
he had been. Rope in hand, Bat, closely followed by the girl, ran
along the edge of the bank, both straining their eyes for the first
sign of movement upon the surface of the flood. Would he never come
up? The slope up which the horses had scrambled steepened into a
perpendicular cut-bank at no great distance below, and if the current
bore the two men past that point the girl knew instinctively that
rescue would be impossible and they would be swept into the vortex of
the canyon.
There was a cry from Bat, and Alice, struggling to keep up, caught a
blur of motion upon the surface some distance below. A few steps
brought them opposite to the point, where, scarcely thirty feet from
the bank, two forms were struggling violently. Suddenly an arm raised
high, and a doubled fist crashed squarely against the jaw of a white,
upturned face. The half-breed poised an instant and threw his rope.
The wide loop fell true and a moment later Endicott succeeded in
passing it under the arms of the unconscious Texan. Then the rope drew
taut and the halfbreed braced to the pull as the men were forced
shoreward by the current.
With a cry of relief, Alice rushed to the aid of the half-breed, and
grasping the rope, threw her weight into the pull. But her relief was
short-lived, for when the forms in the water touched shore it was to
brush against the side of the cut-bank with tea feet of perpendicular
wall above them. And worse than, that, unhardened to the wear of
water, the bank was caving off in great chunks as the current gnawed at
its base. A section weighing tons let go with a roar only a few yards
below, and Bat and the girl worked as neither had ever worked before to
tow their burden upstream to the sloping bank. But the force of the
current and the conformation of the bank, which slanted outward at an
angle that diminished the force of the pull by half, rendered their
efforts in vain.
"You stan' back!" ordered Bat sharply, as a section of earth gave way
almost beneath their feet, but the girl paid no attention, and the two
redoubled their efforts.
In the water, Endicott took in the situation at a glance. He realized
that the strain of the pull was more than the two could overcome.
Realized also that each moment added to the Jeopardy of the half-breed
and the girl. There was one chance--and only one. Relieved of his
weight, the unresisting form of the Texan could be dragged to
safety--and he would take that chance.
"_Non_! _Non_!" The words were fairly hurled from the half-breed's
lips, as he seemed to divine what was passing in Endicott's mind. But
Endicott gave no heed. Deliberately he let go the rope and the next
moment was whirled from sight, straight toward the seething vortex of
the canyon, where the moonlight revealed dimly in the distance only a
wild rush of lashing waters and the thrashing limbs of uprooted trees.