"THE TINKLING OF THE CAMEL'S BELL"
Johnny had a late breakfast, according to George. "You look like you
made a night of it," said the cook.
"I reckon I did," replied Johnny, yawning; "I didn't get much sleep."
"Did Wolf make any remarks about shootin'?"
"When?"
"Last night."
"Didn't you see him start for home?"
"Thought mebby he come back to play."
"He didn't come back to play," replied Johnny. "I'm goin' for a ride
an' see if I can wake up," he said, and he did.
As he loped along the Juniper trail he made a confidante of Pepper.
"Dearly Beloved," he muttered, "we are goin' to be th' center of a
whole lot of eyes before long. People will pay attention when they sees
us. We are going to be right popular--an' _un_popular. If you knowed
all th' trouble I'm brewin' for us, you'd reckon I wasn't no friend at
all. But I know yo're with me to a finish, an' not worryin' about whose
finish it's goin' to be. I've got to do some thinkin'. You listen.
"Wolf was sent up to find out who's been ticklin' th' Bar H with a
prong, an' he didn't have no luck. Knowin' he was losin' patience,
I knowed what a man like him would do when he came to th' end of it.
He'd pick a fight an' start shootin'. Now you know I ain't scared of
Wolf, but you don't know that I wasn't ready to start no open war just
yet. I'll admit I hope I don't have to start none, but I wouldn't bet
two bits on _that_. So what did I do? I sent him away, Pepper, but
he'll come back. Uh-huh, he'll come back if he's got th' nerve--an'
it'll take some. An' if he does you an' me'll have to step around right
lively. If he figgers right he'll come back a-shootin', for he'll be
all riled up. I couldn't have him trailin' me wherever I went, could I?
Th' man wasn't reasonable--he didn't allow I had any rights.
"Now, then: Wolf won't be back before tomorrow mornin'. I'm bettin' he
won't be able to sit a saddle before mornin', an' that brings him here
tomorrow afternoon. Th' Bar H won't hunt for him, thanks to what you
helped me do last night. If they find his cayuse without his saddle
they'll think he come down an' got a fresh hoss. An' all we want is to
see that little Peggy girl, an' go over to th' Double X. Then we'll
turn th' Bar H upside down, an' let Wolf square up for his buggy ride
if he wants. An' I'll give odds that he'll want to."
When he reached the rendezvous he was early and he grinned as he
realized his unusual impatience. "Pepper, things are shore happenin'
to me. I'm what you might call sober-drunk. Just settin' here quiet,
lookin' at that little valley is plumb thrillin', little hoss--an'
_would_ you cock an eye at that gent down there! An' cussed if there
ain't a cow in them sands! I reckon, mebby, it's goin' to be _real_
thrillin' before long."
He jammed his sombrero tight on his head and waited, tense and eager
for the overt act he felt sure would come, and send him down the hill
like the swoop of a hawk.
Down in the valley Lang looked searchingly around and then, tying his
rope to the remaining strand of wire, urged his horse ahead. He was
standing up in the stirrups, his weight on one leg, leaning to one side
to keep the rope from pressing against his other leg, his back to the
hill, and he did not see the black thunderbolt dropping down the green
slope; and so intent was he upon the work in hand that his ears did not
give him warning of the charging enemy in time to attempt deliberate
and well-sighted long-range rifle shooting. The wire had been torn
loose from the first post and was straining at the staples in the next
one before he had any intimation of the swiftly approaching danger.
Surprised and galvanized into action by the sound of rolling hoofs
pounding over a stretch of bare, hard ground, he turned in his saddle,
flung a glance at the racing thoroughbred and jerked his rifle from its
sheath. His horse, feeling the rope rub against one of its hind legs,
kicked viciously and pranced. Twisting from one side to the other,
rifle at his shoulder, Lang found himself in too awkward a position for
well-aimed shooting against the racing enemy, who lay along the back
of his horse and presented a discouragingly small target. Sliding the
rifle back into the sheath, Lang worked desperately at the rope, trying
to free it from the saddle. Cursing his clumsy fingers, he suddenly
realized the trouble. "D--n my soul, if somebody ain't _knotted_ it!
Oh, th' cussed fool!"
Giving up the attempt, he reached again for the rifle, swiftly changed
his mind and pulled angrily on the reins to back his horse so he could
get the other end of the rope and free it from the wire. "Staked out
like a calf!" he gritted. Hauling in the rope, he at last grabbed the
knot, and swore again. It had pulled so tight that precious seconds
were wasted before he could free it, and his temper was not sweetened
any by the two bullets which Johnny, firing at long range, sent on a
gamble. They missed him by feet, but had their effect. Dropping the
freed wire, he spurred around to face the swiftly nearing danger and
jerked out his Colt, firing hastily. Johnny now was standing up in
his stirrups to offset the bouncing of the horse and his shots were
coming nearer all the time. Lang swerved his horse suddenly and fired
again, but the animal was prancing. Johnny's reply struck the horse
and the pain-racked animal, leaping convulsively, bolted for the gap
between the posts, straight for the quicksands. Lang, frantic at this
new danger, fought the animal with one hand, trying desperately to turn
it, and used the gun with his other hand, doing neither well. Johnny,
drawing his second Colt, replied to Lang's last shot and the Triangle
puncher, dropping his weapon, sagged forward in the saddle and fell
sideways into a grassy hollow, where he sprawled grotesquely as his
horse, freed of his weight, leaped forward at greater speed and dashed
out onto the treacherous sands, stopping only when it became mired
beyond the possibility of further progress. It floundered and strained
with frantic energy until exhaustion made it pause, and then stood
trembling, doomed by the inexorable sands which slowly crept up its
quivering legs and caused its eyes to become wide with terror.
Johnny flashed past the prostrate puncher and then suddenly became
aware of his danger. Pepper, holding her speed, kept straight on for
the sandy trap. Johnny tried to swing her and she responded, but not
enough in the restricted space and when he had pulled her back on her
haunches she had crossed the quicksands' edge and slid, wallowing and
struggling, to a stop far from safety. Her instinct warned her of her
peril and she struggled frantically to retrace her steps, but succeeded
only in turning part way and had to give up the fight momentarily, with
her side to the firm ground she had just quitted. Panting and shaking
with terror, she looked around appealingly at her rider, who shook his
head.
"No use, Pepper Girl," he said. "You'll only get in deeper. Rest
yourself an' wait--I'm th' only one who can help you now--an' I never
thought I'd do a thing like that to you; an' I ain't goin' to do it
till I has to. Good little cayuse--th' best I ever laid eyes on, an'
I've seen th' best there was. We've had our last ride together, little
hoss, an' mebby we'll go down together, too. Easy, girl; easy," he
coaxed, and not wholly in vain. "You just rest an' mebby we'll make
another try after I see what there is to be seen. We got th' coyote
that caused it, anyhow!"
His words were contradicted almost as soon as spoken, for a derisive
voice from the grassy hollow rang out in exultant laughter. Johnny,
fearing a shot, although the fear was from instinct rather than from
reason, fired instantly at the sound, and then lowered the gun. Lang
was unarmed and could not get to his Colt without exposing himself.
"He won't get it while I'm alive," muttered Johnny, reloading his other
gun.
"Shoot!" exulted Lang; "but you better save th' last for yoreself.
That's right, _shoot_!" he jeered, as Johnny, stung by the words,
wasted another cartridge. "Yo're comin' as close as anybody could," he
continued. "You can shoot like th' hammers of h--l, an' that makes it
all th' funnier. Shoot again!" he invited, holding up his hat. A hole
appeared in it, to his surprise, but he jeered again instantly. "Fine!
_That's_ shootin'. Shoot again!"
Johnny stroked Pepper's neck and then leaned over and looked down. "Not
so deep," he muttered.
"Shore; look it over," shouted Lang. "That's what I'm aimin' to do. I'm
aimin' to look it over, right to th' finish. I've allus wondered how a
man would act in them sands, an' I'm goin' to find out now. Mebby if
yo're polite I'll put you out of yore misery when yore chin gets wet.
Then I'll ride over to th' Bar H an' tell 'em who kidnapped th' Doc,
an' did for Squint. I've seen shows, but this here is goin' to be th'
best of th' lot."
Johnny's eyes glinted and he fired twice in succession--then a third
shot after an interval, endeavoring to force Lang to keep his head
down while his other hand worked swiftly under his slicker roll.
Emptying one gun, he slipped it back into its holster and used the
other, still struggling with the slicker. At the last shot in the
second weapon he worked Wolf's gun loose and slipped it into the
holster on the far side from Lang. Standing up in his stirrups he gave
vent to a burst of profanity and hurled his Colts, one after the other,
at the hidden observer.
Lang looked up in time to see the first gun bounce from the ground and
then the second fell close to it. He laughed nastily and ducked down
again as Johnny drew the heavy Sharps from its sheath and sent an ounce
of lead smashing into the sand and pebbles close to his head. Another,
another, and another struck the top of the ridge, the last striking a
rock and screaming high into the air. Then Johnny gripped the heavy
weapon at its muzzle with both hands, stood up in his stirrups, whirled
it around his head and sent it through the air towards the hidden man.
It struck loose sand and slid ten feet in a little cloud of dust. The
Triangle puncher looked out again, chuckled, and slowly emerged from
his place of refuge.
"I calls that kind," he laughed. "There _wasn't_ no use of lettin' good
weapons like them be lost. I can use 'em all--an' just for that I'm
goin' to end yore misery like I said I might. First," he said, going
over to the nearest Colt and picking it up, "I'm goin' to load this gun
an' do somethin' for my hoss an' that cow." He walked unsteadily toward
the edge of the sands, pulling half a dozen cartridges from his belt
as he advanced. Reaching the danger zone, he tried each step before
putting his weight into it and slowly advanced to the last tuft of
grass, where he stood, swaying slightly as it moved gently under his
weight. The sand at its outer edges moved a little and changed color as
the water flooded and receded in it. "Reckon this is th' jumpin' off
place," he said. "You'd be plumb tickled if I fell in, wouldn't you?"
he jeered. "Well, I ain't aimin' to. I'm figgerin' on loadin' this
gun--_this_ way: Number One," he said, sliding a cartridge into the
cylinder, "is for my hoss; Number Two is for th' cow; Number Three is
for a hole through yore hat; _this_ one is for yore hoss when only its
head is out, or as soon as you jump off. I'm givin' you that chance to
help it--an' to save my valuable time; these two are for yore head when
yore chin gets under. One'll be enough, but two will be dead shore--I
might miss th' first to hear you cuss."
Lang raised the Colt and put his horse out of its misery; then he did
the same for the cow. "That's what I call fair shootin'," he said. "Of
course, you might 'a' done it faster--but I'm in no hurry. Now, this
next shot has got to be dead shore if I put it high enough in yore hat
to miss yore head--an' I ain't aimin' to hit that _yet_. So if I takes
plenty of time, don't you get jumpy."
He raised the gun above his head to increase the torment and there was
a flash and roar at Johnny's hip. The Triangle puncher's hand opened
and the gun dropped behind him as a look of great surprise flashed to
his face, and remained there. Twisting sideways, he fell face down,
sprawled full length upon the greedy sands.
"There, d--n you!" gritted Johnny. "Th' show's over, for _you_!" He
brought the gun back on its mark, but did not release the hammer again.
There was no doubt, this time, about Lang. He let the hammer down on an
empty chamber and slid the weapon back in his holster.
Reassuring Pepper, he glanced down and saw that her legs were being
pulled to the sides, which sprawled them out. "Slow," he said, and
looked again to make sure. "Mighty slow. This stuff is different in
places--but d--d sure," he added bitterly. "You take it easy, Pepper
Girl. I won't let it last much longer--'though it's goin' to take a lot
of nerve. Good little hoss--good little Pepper Girl."
He now knew there was no hope of riding out. He knew quicksands--he had
seen them on other ranges, but never such a one as this, for the others
had been small--the size of this bed was far beyond his experience.
He studied it and watched the tremors running through it--the sand
seemed to be moving and new surfaces to be forming. Wet spots appeared,
became covered with water and then were uncovered again as it drained
away. Hollows slowly formed here, slight bulges there, but with no
stability. Undulations showed frequently near the bodies, which were
slowly sinking. The cow was nearly under. This trap had no definite
edges, for it met and merged with the honest sands around it in such
a way as to show no lines; but he knew, by looking at the tracks of
his horse, which, strangely enough, had not been quite obliterated,
that he was too far from firm ground to have any hope of getting out in
that direction. He cogitated upon the possibilities of escape in other
directions, for it was possible that along some other course he might
find firm earth closer to him. To his right was a grass tuft, not as
far from him as was the place where Lang's body marked the other edge,
but it lay too far away. Behind him the nature of the sands was evident
for a like distance, and questionable for half as far again. To his
left was the Triangle horse, which he could gain by leaping from his
saddle; beyond that, half as far, was the cow, still useful if used
soon enough and not rested on for too long. He believed that the cow
could not have crossed much of the sands before becoming mired, and
this gave him renewed hope. It was the only way worth trying with a
chance of success. At the best it would be a gamble, but while those
two bodies remained above the surface they would serve as stepping
stones. From the body of the horse he would do the last kind act in his
power for Pepper, and then, throwing away the gun to save its weight,
jump to the cow. This would be easy; but from there on he would need
all his strength and wits and will. Looking beyond the cow, he searched
for something to put his rope on, and found nothing nearer than the
fence posts, which were too far away. And then, while he looked, he
saw water ooze up and cover the sand some distance beyond the cow, and
he admitted that his case was hopeless; and as he admitted it the cow
disappeared from sight.
Hopeless, but not to be submitted to without a struggle. He would
neither sit apathetic nor frantic, nor turn the gun on himself. Hope
had gone as a matter of reasoning; but something had taken its place
which in power transcended hope--cold rage, and a savage, defiant
hatred for that deadly, silent trap; a rage such as he seldom had felt
before, which urged him to tear and rend the sands as though they were
a sentient enemy. Hope, living in him, had been faint-hearted when he
thought of how ghastly the thing was; how he, a man with all a man's
strength of body and mind and will, mounted on the finest horse for
hundreds of miles, armed with a weapon, the use of which no man knew
better; how he could not do a thing to save his life. What is hope but
a wish? But the dynamic rage which crept through him was a force of
another kind--defiant, savage determination to cheat the workings of
that mobile bed of horror, or go down to a death made glorious by the
fight.
He shook his fist at it. His thin lips drew back over set teeth in a
snarl primitive in its timbre and in the savage nature behind it "D--n
you! You may win; but I'll make that winnin' hard!"
Gripping the pommel he climbed up onto the saddle and poised for the
leap. Could he believe his ears? Glancing around, he saw a woman
tearing down the valley toward him, the drumming roll of her horse's
pounding hoofs growing ever louder. What a sound! What music ever was
so sweet? What sight had ever been so beautiful as that trim figure
mounted astride a horse which seemed to spurn the grass in its arrowy
flight? Hatless her hair streaming behind her like a glorious battle
flag of Hope, came Margaret, and her voice rang out like a trumpet.
"_Wait!_"
Hope returned again to bulwark Rage and give Determination a better
footing and stronger lever.
"Pepper Girl," choked Johnny, "I'm glad I waited. There's mebby many
a mile we'll do together, better friends than ever. I'm tellin' you
that if there's any way outside of h--l to get you out of this, yo're
goin'. Hear me, little hoss? An' that thoroughbred girl has brought
us th' way. Cheer up--we're goin' out, you an' me. But we'll have bad
dreams--plumb bad dreams--for many a night to come." He suddenly raised
a warning hand. "Look out!" he shouted. "Don't come too close!"
"I know this grisly thing like a book," she replied. "What shall I do?"
"Don't come too close!"
"This is the edge; tell me what to do!" She looked at Lang's partly
submerged body and shuddered.
"Hold your cayuse fast by th' reins an' get off, so I can put my rope
around that pommel. But I'm afraid it's a little too far," he replied,
swinging the braided lariat carefully around his head. She quickly
obeyed, but led the horse to another point on the edge, and gained a
few inches. The rope shot out and up, struck the saddle and then the
sands. Jerking it back again, he coiled it carefully, and then looked
up, and nodded. Margaret was holding to the pommel with one hand and
leaning out over the sands, her other arm extended toward him. The
second cast went over her wrist and she caught the rope, drew back to
the saddle and made the loop fast around her pommel.
"Get up in th' saddle an' pull this rope tight--_tight_," he said, and
at a word from him Pepper braced herself, as well as she could, as if
a cow were at the other end. He slid from the saddle, touched the sand
for an instant, and pulled himself at his best speed along the lariat,
moving too rapidly to be caught, and soon stood at the side of the
woman who had saved him.
"Can't we save that darling?" she asked, tears in her eyes.
"We're goin' to try mighty hard," he said. "Start ahead, _slow_--a
little more. You watch yore cayuse an' stop instanter when I says th'
word. I'm scared we'll break Pepper's laigs, 'though if it's done easy
we may get along all right; it looks soft, right there. Ready? Then,
_pull_. Come, Pepper! Come on, little hoss! Come on! Come on!" he
cried, and then he whistled the well-known signal. "Come on! That's th'
girl! That's th' girl! Keep a-churnin', tear it up! Come on! Come on,
you black darlin'! That's th' way! Keep a-comin', keep a-comin'!"
Slowly Pepper went sideways, Margaret fearing that its legs would snap
under the strain, but the struggling animal fell on its side, and then
came the tug of war. Johnny added his strength to the rope and slowly,
an inch at a time, they gained, and then had to rest for a moment
because flesh and blood could not stand such a continued effort. Johnny
breathed deeply and relaxed.
"Once more, Ma'am," he said, getting a fresh hold on the rope, "I'm
glad that saddle is a rim-fire--I'd mistrust a center-fire, with
its one cinch. An' I'm glad it was made by Ol' Hawkins--that pommel
can stand twice th' strain. Now then--_pull!_" Again they rested,
the blood pounding in his ears. "Yo're comin' fine, little hoss! We
ain't handlin' you very gentle; but yo're _comin'_!" A few minutes
later Pepper slid across sand that was dry and honest, and with the
slackening of the rope she scrambled to her feet and trembled, weary
but safe.
Johnny hung the lariat on his saddle and then rubbed the velvety muzzle
which sought his cheek, and stroked the quivering shoulder. Impulsively
he buried his face in the wet, sandy, roughened coat on her neck and
flung an arm around it; and when he turned away his face was drawn and
wet, and there were tears in his eyes despite all effort of will.
"Ma'am," he said, huskily, "Pepper an' me owe you a debt we never can
pay; but we can try right hard to square up some of it. I'll never
forget th' last half-hour, never."
"How did you come to get in it?" asked Margaret, glancing where she
last had seen the body of Lang. It was gone, and so was the horse. The
sands, still undulating, were slowly assuming their mask of innocence.
"Pepper got goin' so fast she couldn't stop quick enough, which was my
fault. I didn't try to turn her in time."
"And that--that other--man. Who was he, and what happened to him?"
"I reckon he got tangled in th' wire, an' got his rope mixed up with
it. An' somehow we got to shootin'. When th' excitement stopped he was
there, an' I was where you found me."
"Who was he?" she demanded.
"He was a Triangle puncher, Ma'am; Lang was his name."
"He was one of the men whom I ordered to stay off our range--we
couldn't keep the wire on those posts, and I suspected them strongly.
Are you sure he was only tangled in the wire?"
"Well, I wouldn't just say nothin' about that. Mebby he was tryin' to
help th' cow that was mired, an' got afoul of th' wire. But that don't
make no difference, anyhow, now. Have you got any wire at th' ranch?"
"I think so," she answered.
"We'll put it up some day soon, so it'll take some time, an' more
trouble, to get it loose."
She nodded and took a paper out of her waist. "Here are the figures for
the year we took possession."
He looked them over. "Uh-huh," he said, "they're what I want."
"It is surprising that we have as many left as we have," she said. "We
are about ready to give up, admit our failure, and go back East."
"Ma'am," said Johnny, with great earnestness, "don't you do it. Just
sit tight an' see things come around yore way. Luck allus turns. Stick
it out, an' see."
"Do you believe in luck?"
"I do; when somebody's behind it pushin' hard. Now, Ma'am, I reckon
we hadn't ought to stay here no longer, where folks can see us. They
might talk, an' there's no tellin' what harm it might do. Besides, this
little Pepper hoss needs a bath an' I'm aimin' to take her into th'
river as soon as she gets a little quieter--she looks like she mixed
up with a tornado." He walked around collecting his guns, blowing sand
from them, and cleaning them as well as he could. "There's shore some
guns around here," he grinned, getting Lang's Colt and throwing it into
the quicksand. "This here gun," he said, reloading Wolf's Colt and
tying it under the slicker roll, "shore come in handy. Some folks would
call that luck--mebby it was, as far as totin' it is concerned--but
I'm tellin' you there wasn't no luck in th' way it was used. But as
for totin' it, I reckon that was luck, even if I did carry it to fool
somebody, sometime. Now, Ma'am, I'll be ridin' west. There's a regular
bath tub near th' main trail, where th' river runs over solid rock:
an' solid rock is th' only kind of river bottom I have any use for,
today. Pepper an' I won't forget what you did for us--an' I'm tellin'
you to sit tight, an' watch th' luck swing yore way. I'll be leavin'
now--good-by, Ma'am."
She spurred her horse and shot even with him. "Why are you doing this?"
she demanded. "You can't fool me about that--that man's rope fouling
the wire. I know what he was doing. Why are you running such risks for
total strangers?"
"Ma'am," he replied, smiling quizzically, "I don't know, unless it's
because I can't keep out of trouble. I'm allus gettin' mixed up with
it, somehow, an' th' habit's set, I reckon. I'm gettin' so I like it.
But we shouldn't be ridin' like this. You have no idea how much folks
can talk, or figger from a little thing like this."
"Can't you stop them, as you did that Bar H foreman?"
"Reckon so; but I ain't ready to," he grinned. "There's a time for
everythin', an' I'm not shore th' time has come for that. When it does
I'll know it without no doubts. I'm askin' how you learned all th'
things you said yesterday?"
"I suppose it is a natural curiosity, even in a man; but I prefer
to say nothing about the matter." She drew rein and he took off his
sombrero. "I'm tempted to see if the luck will turn," she smiled.
"Good-by."
"I'm thankin' you again. Ma'am," he replied. "It shore will, an' you
can bank on it," and he pressed Pepper's sides. The horse struck into
a stride suggestive of a wish to put miles between her and the scene
of her torture, but he pulled her down to a walk. "Yo're entirely too
willin', little hoss of mine," he reproved, patting the roughened
coat "I was aimin' to do somethin' today, but it can wait. Wolf or no
Wolf. If he horns in I won't waste no more time on him, none at all.
There's a nice little wooded draw over there, an' we're goin' for it.
You got to get rested up an' quieted a little--th' bath can wait a
couple of hours. You got to keep in good shape, because th' time is
comin' when I'll have to ride you like I had a _remuda_ to draw on--an'
I ain't worth a cuss unless yo're in good shape. Yo're my laigs.
Pepper, an' no puncher is better'n his cayuse. An' mebby Two-Spot, th'
tattle-tale, won't be surprised when he sees you!"
Margaret looked after him and smiled, and then turned and stared at
the innocent patch of wet sand under whose hypocritical surface lay
grisly death. Shuddering, she sent her pony into a sharp gallop and
set out for home, a color in her face which might have been due to the
exhilaration of horseback riding.