When Jake escaped from the ranch of Roaring Bull he tried the mettle of
Captain Wilmot's charger to the uttermost, for well he knew that the
pursuit would be instant and vigorous; that his late comrade Charlie
Brooke could guide the troops to the cavern in Traitor's Trap, and that
if his companions, who would doubtless ride straight back, were to
escape, they must be warned in time. He also knew that the captain's
charger was a splendid one. In order to accomplish his purpose,
therefore, he would ride it to death.
The distance between the ranch and the outlaws' cave was not so great
but that any mustang in the plains could have traversed it in a day, but
the cruel man had made up his mind that the captain's charger should do
it in a few hours. It is not so much distance as pace that kills. Had
any consideration whatever been extended to the noble creature by the
ignoble brute who rode it, the good horse would have galloped to the
head of the Trap almost without turning a hair. At first he strode out
over the rolling prairie with the untiring vigour of a well-made frame
and a splendid constitution, leaping the little cracks and inequalities
of the ground in the exuberance of his strength; though there was no
need to bound, and coursing over the knolls as easily as he cantered
down the hollows, while his flashing eye betokened at once a courageous
and a gentle spirit. But when the lower slopes of the hills were
reached, and steepish gradients were met with here and there, the horse
began to put back first one ear and then the other, and sometimes both,
as if in expectation of the familiar "well done," or pat on the neck, or
check of the rein with which the captain had been wont to sanction a
slackening of the pace, but no such grace was allowed him. On the
contrary, when the first symptom appeared of a desire to reduce speed
Jake drove his cruel spurs into the charger's glossy side. With a wild
snort and bound the horse stretched out again and spurned the ground as
if in indignant surprise.
Then the breath began to labour slightly; the sweat to darken his rich
brown coat, and the white foam to fleck his broad chest. Still Jake
pressed him on with relentless fury. It could not be expected that a
man who cared not for his fellows would have much consideration for his
beast. Murder of a deeper dye than that of a horse was seething in the
outlaw's brain. This to him useless expedition, which had so nearly
cost him his life, would be the last that Buck Tom should command.
After blowing out _his_ brains he would warn the others of the impending
danger and lead them away to other and more favourable fields of
enterprise.
At this point the good horse stumbled and almost threw his rider, who,
with horrible curses, plied the spurs and tugged at the bit until blood
was mingled with the flying foam. Never, save once--when Captain Wilmot
was caught alone in the plains by Cheyenne Indians and had to fly for
his life--had the good charger been urged to anything like such an
effort as he was now called on to make, and _then_ there was no cruelty
mingled with the urging. The very tone of his master's voice, as he
patted the neck and shook the rein and gently touched him with the spur,
must have convinced the intelligent creature that it was a matter of
life or death--that there was a stern need-be for such haste.
Turning at last into the gorge of the Trap, the charger gasped and
sobbed with distress as he faced the steep ascent and tried, with the
unabated courage of a willing heart, to pull himself together while the
unmerciful monster still drove in the spurs and galled his tender mouth.
But the brave effort was unavailing. Stumbling over a root that
crossed the path, the horse plunged forward, and fell with a crash,
sending his rider over his head. Jake, alighting on his face and right
shoulder, lay stunned for a few seconds. Then he jumped up, displaying
torn garments and a face covered with blood.
Running to the horse's head he seized the rein and shook it savagely,
kicking the animal's face with his heavy boots in his anxiety to make it
rise, but the poor charger was beyond his cruelty by that time, for its
neck had been broken by the fall.
Oh! it was one of those sights which are fitted to make even thoughtless
men recognise the need of a Saviour for the human race, and to reject
with something like scorn the doctrine--founded on wholly insufficient
evidence--that there is no future of compensation for the lower animals!
The outlaw did not waste time in vain regrets. Bestowing a meaningless
curse on the dead charger, he turned and went up the narrow glen at a
smart pace, but did not overstrain himself, for he knew well that none
of the troop-horses could have kept up with him. He counted on having
plenty of time to warn his comrades and get away without hurry. But he
reckoned without his host--being quite ignorant of the powers of Black
Polly, and but slightly acquainted with those of her master Hunky Ben.
Indeed so agile were the movements of Polly, and so thoroughly was the
scout acquainted with the by-paths and short cuts of that region, that
he actually passed the fugitive and reached the head of Traitor's Trap
before him. This he managed by forsaking the roads, keeping a
straighter line for the outlaws' cave, and passing on foot over the
shoulder of a hill where a horseman could not go. Thus he came down on
the cavern, about half-an-hour before Jake's arrival. Clambering to the
crevice in the cliff against which the cave abutted, and sliding down
into a hollow on its earthen roof, he cautiously removed a small stone
from its position, and disclosed a hole through which he could both hear
and see most of what took place inside.
Lest any one should wonder at the facility with which the ground lent
itself to this manoeuvre, we may as well explain that the bold scout
possessed one of those far-reaching minds which are not satisfied
without looking into _everything_,--seeing to the bottom of, and peering
round to the rear of, all things, as far as possible. He always acted
on the principle of making himself acquainted with every road and track
and by-path, every stream, pond, river, and spring in the land. Hence
he was well aware of this haunt of outlaws, and, happening to be near it
one day when its owners were absent, he had turned aside to make the
little arrangement of a peep-hole, in the belief that it might possibly
turn out to be of advantage in course of time!
The clump of shrubs and grass on the rugged bank, which formed the top
of the cave, effectually concealed the natural hollow which he had
deepened, and the overhanging mass of the rugged cliff protected it from
rain and dew.
What Hunky Ben saw on looking through his peep-hole filled him with
surprise and pity, and compelled him to modify his plans.
Almost below him on a brush couch, lay the tall form of Buck Tom, with
the unmistakable hue of approaching death upon his countenance. Beside
him, holding his head, kneeled the much-wasted figure of Leather--the
reputed outlaw. Seated or standing around in solemn silence were six of
the outlaws, most of whom bore tokens of the recent fight, in the form
of bandage on head or limb.
"I brought you to this, Leather; God forgive me," said the dying man
faintly.
"No, you didn't, Ralph," replied the other, calling him by his old
familiar name, "I brought myself to it. Don't blame yourself, Ralph;
you weren't half so bad as me. You'd never have been here but for me.
Come, Ralph, try to cheer up a bit; you're not dying. It's only faint
you are, from loss of blood and the long gallop. When you've had a
sleep and some food, you'll feel stronger. We'll fetch a doctor soon,
an' he'll get hold o' the bullet. Dear Ralph, don't shake your head
like that an' look so solemn. Cheer up, old boy!"
Leather spoke with a sort of desperate fervour, but Ralph could not
cheer up.
"No," he said sadly, "there is no cheer for me. I've thrown my life
away. There's no hope--no mercy for me. I've been trying to recall the
past, an' what mother used to teach me, but it won't come. There's only
one text in all the Bible that comes to me now. It's this--`Be sure
your sin will find you out!' That's true, boys," he said, turning a
look on his comrades. "Whatever else may be false, _that's_ true, for I
_know_ it."
"That's so, dear Ralph," said Leather earnestly, "but it's no less true
that--"
Just then a noise was heard in the outer passage; then hurrying
footsteps. Instinctively every man drew his revolver and faced the
door. Next moment Jake entered.
"Here, one of you; a drink--I'm fit to--ha!"
His eyes fell on the figure of Buck and he shrank back for a moment in
silent surprise.
"Yes, Jake," said the dying man, with a glance of pity not unmingled
with scorn, "it has come sooner than you or I expected, and it will save
you some trouble--maybe some regret. I've seen through your little
game, Jake, and am glad I've been spared the necessity of thwarting
you."
He stopped owing to weakness, and Jake, recovering himself, hastily
explained the reason of his sudden appearance.
"Fetch me a rag an' some water, boys," he continued. "It looks worse
than it is--only skin deep. And we've not a moment to lose. Those who
have a mind may follow _me_. Them that wants to swing may stop."
"But how about Buck Tom?" asked one who was not quite so depraved as the
others.
"What's the use o' askin'?" said Jake. "It's all up with him, don't you
see? Besides, he's safe enough. They'd never have the heart to hang a
dying man."
"An' Leather!" cried another. "We mustn't quit Leather. He's game for
many a fight yet. Come, Leather; we'll help you along, for they're sure
to string you up on the nearest tree."
"Don't trouble yourself about me," said Leather, looking round, for he
still kneeled beside his old friend, "I don't intend to escape. Look to
yourselves, boys, an' leave us alone."
"Unless you're all tired o' life you'll quit here an' skip for the
woods," said Jake, as, turning round, he hurriedly left the place.
The others did not hesitate, but followed him at once, leaving Buck Tom,
and his friend to shift for themselves.
During all this scene Hunky Ben had been intently gazing and listening--
chiefly the latter. When the outlaws filed past him he found it
extremely difficult to avoid putting a bullet into the Flint, but he
restrained himself because of what yet remained to be done.
As soon as the outlaws were well out of sight Ben arose and prepared for
action. First of all he tightened his belt. Then he pulled the hood of
his coat well over his head, so that it effectually concealed his face,
and, still further to accomplish the end in view, he fastened the hood
in front with a wooden pin. Proceeding to the stable he found, as he
had hoped and expected, that the outlaws had left one or two
horse-cloths behind in their flight. In one of these he enveloped his
person in such a way as to render it unrecognisable. Then he walked
straight into the cave, and, without a word of warning, threw his strong
arms a round Shank Leather and lifted him off the ground.
Of course Leather shouted and struggled at first, but as well might a
kitten have struggled in the grip of a grizzly bear. In his worn
condition he felt himself to be utterly powerless. Buck Tom made a
feeble effort to rise and help him, but the mere effort caused him to
fall back with a groan of helpless despair.
Swiftly his captor bore Leather up the side of the hill till he got
behind a clump of trees, into the heart of which he plunged, and then
set his burden down on his feet. At the same time, throwing back his
hood and flinging away the horse-cloth, he stood up and smiled.
"Hunky Ben, or his ghost!" exclaimed Shank, forgetting his indignation
in his amazement.
"You're right, young man, though you've only see'd me once that I know
of. But most men that see me once are apt to remember me."
"Well, Hunky," said Leather, while the indignation began to return, "you
may think this very amusing, but it's mean of a big strong man like you
to take advantage of a fellow that's as weak as a child from wounds an'
fever. Lend me one o' your six-shooters, now, so as we may stand on
somewhat more equal terms and--but a truce to boasting! I'm sure that
you wouldn't keep smiling at me like a Cheshire cat if there wasn't
something behind this."
"You're right, Mr Leather," said Ben, becoming at once grave and
earnest. "There _is_ somethin' behind it--ay, an' somethin' before it
too. So much, that I have barely time to tell 'ee. So, listen wi' both
ears. There's a bunch o' men an' troops close to the Trap even now, on
their way to visit your cave. If they find you--you know what that
means?"
"Death," said Leather quietly.
"Ay, death; though ye don't desarve it," said Ben.
"But I _do_ deserve it," returned Shank in the same quiet voice.
"Well, may-hap you do," rejoined the scout coolly, "but not, so far as I
know, in connection wi' your present company. Now, there's Buck Tom--"
"Ay, what of him?" asked Shank, anxiously.
"Well, in the nat'ral course o' timings, death is comin' to him too, an'
that'll save him from bein' strung up--for they're apt to do that sort
o' thing hereaway in a loose free-an-easy style that's awkward sometime.
I was within an inch of it myself once, all through a mistake--I'll
tell 'ee about that when I've got more time, maybe. Well, now, I'm keen
to save you an' Buck Tom if I can, and what I want you to understand is,
that if you expect me to help you at a time when you stand considerable
in need o' help, you'll have to do what I tell 'ee."
"And what would you have me do?" asked Shank, with a troubled look.
"Remain here till I come for 'ee, and when you meet me in company say
nothin' about havin' met me before."
"Can I trust you, Hunky Ben?" said Shank, looking at him earnestly.
"If you _can't_ trust me, what d'ye propose to do?" asked the scout with
a grin.
"You're right, Ben. I _must_ trust you, and, to say truth, from the
little I know of you, I believe I've nothing to fear. But my anxiety is
for Ralph--Buck Tom, I mean. You're sure, I suppose, that Mr Brooke
will do his best to shield him?"
"Ay, sartin sure, an', by the way, don't mention your Christian name
just now--whatever it is--nor for some time yet. Good-day, an' keep
quiet till I come. We've wasted overmuch time a'ready."
So saying, the scout left the coppice, and, flinging open his coat,
re-entered the cave a very different-looking man from what he was when
he left it.
"Hunky Ben!" exclaimed Buck, who had recovered by that time. "I wish
you had turned up half-an-hour since, boy. You might have saved my poor
friend Leather from a monster who came here and carried him away
bodily."
"Ay? That's strange, now. Hows'ever, worse luck might have befel him,
for the troops are at my heels, an' ye know what would be in store for
him if he was here."
"Yes, indeed, I know it, Ben, and what is in store for me too; but Death
will have his laugh at them if they don't look sharp."
"No, surely," said the scout, in a tone of real commiseration, "you're
not so bad as that, are you?"
"Truly am I," answered Buck, with a pitiful look, "shot in the chest.
But I saw you in the fight, Ben; did you guide them here?"
"That's what I did--at least I told 'em which way to go, an' came on in
advance to warn you in time, so's you might escape. To tell you the
plain truth, Ralph Ritson, I've bin told all about you by your old
friend Mr Brooke, an' about Leather too, who, you say, has bin carried
off by a monster?"
"Yes--at least by a monstrous big man."
"You're quite sure o' that?"
"Quite sure."
"An' You would know the monster if you saw him again?"
"I think I would know his figure, but not his face, for I did not see
it."
"Strange!" remarked the scout, with a simple look; "an' you're sartin
sure you don't know where Leather is now?"
"Not got the most distant idea."
"That's well now; stick to that an' there's no fear o' Leather. As to
yourself--they'll never think o' hangin' you till ye can walk to the
gallows--so cheer up, Buck Tom. It may be that ye desarve hangin', for
all I know; but not just at present. I'm a bit of a surgeon, too--bein'
a sort o' Jack-of-all-trades, and know how to extract bullets. What
between Mr Brooke an' me an' time, wonders may be worked, if you're
wise enough to keep a tight rein on your tongue."
While the scout was speaking, the tramp of cavalry was heard outside,
and a few minutes later Captain Wilmot entered the cave, closely
followed by Charlie Brooke.