A CLOSE CALL.
We were standing in a brushy pocket on the side of a hill, and as there
was no immediate danger of our being seen, MacRae continued, by the aid
of the glasses, to follow the movements of our would-be captors.
"D'you know that plunder can't be far away; those fellows haven't had
much time to make their _cache_," he reflected, more to himself than to
me. "I wonder how they accounted to Lessard for us. Just think of
it--somewhere within twenty miles of us there's in the neighborhood of a
hundred thousand dollars of stolen money, planted till they can get it
safely; and the men that got away with it are helping the law to run us
down. That's a new feature of the case; one, I must say, that I didn't
look for."
He lowered the glasses, and regarded me soberly.
"They fight fire with fire in a grass country," he observed. "The
Mounted Police are a hard formation to buck against--but I've a mind to
see this thing to a finish. How do you feel about it, Sarge? Will you go
through?"
"All the way and back again," I promised recklessly. I wasn't sure of
what he had in mind, but I knew _him_--and seeing that we were in the
same boat, I thought it fitting that we should sink or swim together.
"We'll come out on top yet," he confidently asserted. "Meantime we'd
better locate some secluded spot and give our nags a chance to fill up
on grass and be fresh for to-morrow; we're apt to have a hard day."
"It wouldn't be a bad scheme to fill ourselves at the same time," I
suggested. "I'm feeling pretty vacant inside. The first bunch of buffalo
that has a fat calf along is going to hear from me."
"If we can get over this ridge without being seen, there's a canyon with
some cottonwoods and a spring in it. That will be as good a place to
hole up for the night as we can find," Mac decided. "And there will
likely be some buffalo near there."
So we ascended cautiously to the top of the divide, keeping in the
coulées as much as possible, for we knew that other field-glasses would
be focused on the hills. Once over the crest, we halted and watched for
riders coming our way. But none appeared. Once I thought I glimpsed a
moving speck on the farther bank of Lost River. MacRae brought the
glasses to bear, and said it was two Policemen jogging toward camp. Then
we were sure that our flight had not been observed, and we dropped into
a depression that gradually deepened to a narrow-bottomed canyon. Two
miles down this we came to the spring of which MacRae had spoken, a tiny
stream issuing from a crevice at the foot of the bank. What was equally
important, a thick clump of cottonwood and willow furnished tolerably
secure concealment.
The fates smiled on us in the matter of food very shortly. I'm not
enamored of a straight meat diet as a rule, but that evening I was in no
mood to carp at anything half-way eatable. While we were on our
stomachs gratefully stowing away a draught of the cool water, I heard a
buffalo bull lift his voice in challenge to another far down the canyon.
We tied our horses out of sight in the timber and stole in the direction
of the sound. A glorious bull-fight was taking place when we got within
shooting-distance, the cows and calves forming a noisy circle about the
combatants, each shaggy brown brute bawling with all the strength of
bovine lungs; in that pandemonium of bellowing and trampling I doubt if
the report of Mac's carbine could have been heard two hundred yards
away. The shot served to break up the fight and scatter the herd,
however, and we returned to the cottonwoods with the hind-quarter of a
fat calf.
Hungry as we were, we could hardly bolt raw meat, so, taking it for
granted that no one was likely to ride up on us, we built a fire in the
grove, being careful to feed it with dry twigs that would make little
smoke. Over this we toasted bits of meat on the end of a splinter, and
presently our hunger was appeased. Then we blotted out the fire, and,
stretching ourselves on the ground, had recourse to the solace of
tobacco.
The longer we laid there the more curious did I become as to what line
of action MacRae purposed to follow. He lay on his back, silent, staring
straight up at the bit of sky that showed through the branches above,
and I'd just reached the point of asking, when he sat up and forestalled
my questions.
"This is going to be risky business, Sarge," he began. "But so far as I
can see, there is only one way that we can hope to get the thing
straightened out. If we can get hold of Hicks or Bevans, any one of the
four, in fact, I think we can _make_ him tell us all we need to know.
It's the only chance for you and Lyn to get your money back, and for me
to square myself."
"I shouldn't think," I put in resentfully, "that you'd want to square
yourself, after the dirty way you've been treated. I'd as soon take to
herding sheep, or washing dirty clothes like a Chinaman, as be a member
of the Mounted Police if what I've seen in the last ten days is a fair
sample of what a man can expect."
"Fiddlesticks!" Mac impatiently exclaimed. "You don't know what you're
talking about. I tell you a man in the Police, if he has any head at
all, can control his own destiny. You'll be a heap more sane when you
get that old, wild-west notion, that every man should be a law unto
himself, out of your head. I'll venture to say that the Northwest will
be a safer and more law-abiding place five years from now than south of
the line will be in twenty--and the men in red coats will make it so.
Why, I wouldn't miss helping tame this country for half a dozen such
scrapes as I'm in now. This is merely the result of a rotten spot in the
personnel, a rotten spot that will soon be cut out if things come about
logically; it isn't the fault of the system. There never was any great
movement in developing a new country that didn't have a quota of damned
rascals to eliminate from within itself. If you didn't have such a
perverted idea of independence, you'd see that I'm in no danger of
losing either my identity or my self-respect simply because I've become
a unit in a body of six hundred fighting-men. I don't intend to remain
in the insignificant-unit class."
"Your intentions," I interrupted, "will cut a mighty small figure if
your friend Lessard gets hold of you in the next day or two."
"That's the melancholy truth," he returned seriously. "I imagine we'd
get a pretty rough deal; in fact, I wouldn't be surprised if that troop
has received orders, by now, to shoot first and arrest afterward. Still,
I'm willing to gamble that if we rode into Fort Walsh and gave ourselves
up, it would only be a matter of a few weeks in the guardhouse for us
before the thing was cleared up."
"Maybe," I responded skeptically. "If that's your belief, why don't you
act accordingly?"
"Because, confound it, that's just where they want to get us," he
declared. "Once we were safely penned, they'll drift, and neither you
nor Lyn Rowan nor the government would ever lay eyes on that bundle of
money again. I have a theory--but what's vastly more important, I think
those fellows can hardly get out of the country with their plunder
without crossing trails with us. It was smooth business to set the dogs
on us. I don't quite _sabe_--well, I do, too. You can probably realize
just how headquarters would take the sort of yarn we'd spin if we dashed
in and told them the truth. But I think we're smart enough to upset
these fellows' calculations. Lord! wouldn't it be a stroke of business
if we could trap that collection of buccaneers? Frankly, that would be
the biggest thing that ever came my way."
"It would be equally a stroke of business if they happen to trap us," I
reminded.
"They won't," he asserted confidently. "We can't afford to let them.
We've inflicted a compound fracture on established law, and until we can
make the outcome justify our actions, we're compelled, in self-defense,
to avoid being caught. It may be a dubious undertaking, but as I see it
the only thing for us is to hang on the flank of these man-hunters till
we can lay hold of one of that red-handed quartette. According to Burky,
two of them, at least, are in that troop. Probably the others are. And
knowing that bunch as well as I do, I don't think they'll lift the
plunder and quit the country till they can go together. Even if we can't
get hold of one of them, we can keep track of their movements, and if
they _do_ lift their _cache_ and pull out, why, that would be as good as
we want. I wouldn't ask anything better than to get a fair chance at
that bunch with the stolen money on them."
I'll admit that, soberly considered, MacRae's plan did look exceeding
risky. No one could appreciate better than ourselves the unpleasant
possibilities that stared us in the face. But things had narrowed to a
point where only two courses were open to us--one, to throw up our hands
and quit the jurisdiction of the Mounted Police, which involved
desertion on MacRae's part, and on mine a chicken-hearted abandonment of
La Pere's trust in me (for, rightly or wrongly, I was given over to the
feeling that on me alone rested the responsibility for the loss or
recovery of La Pere's money); the other, to take any measure, no matter
how desperate, that would unravel the tangle. All things considered, the
latter was the logical choice. And the plan Mac had put forth seemed as
feasible as any.
"We'll have to proceed on the faro-bank formula that all bets go as they
lay," I said lightly. "There's no use anticipating things disagreeable
or otherwise; we'll simply have to take them as they come."
By this time dusk was upon us. We picketed the horses in the open bottom
where grass was more plentiful than in the brush, and settled ourselves
to sleep. Fortunately, the aftermath of that blistering day was a fairly
warm night. By spreading over us the heavy woolen blankets the Mounted
Police use under their saddles, we slept in comfort. Long before dawn,
however, we arose, built a fire, and breakfasted on buffalo veal, at the
same time broiling a good supply and stowing it in our pockets to serve
the rest of the day. Then, with darkness still obscuring our movements,
we saddled and rode over the ridge and down into Lost River, crossing
that ancient waterway before the first glimmer of light in the east.
Day found us dismounted in the head of a coulée where we could spy on
the Police camp from a distance of three miles, more or less. About
sunrise the troop left camp in a body, later spreading fanwise over the
prairies. Once a party trotted by within a half-mile of us, but no one
of the four men we wanted to see was in the squad.
Until after the noon hour we laid _perdu_ in the hollow, no wiser for
our watching. Then I saw a number of riders debouch from the camp, and
at once trained the glasses on them. At first I couldn't distinguish any
particular face among so many shifting forms, but presently they split
in two bodies, and these again subdivided; and in the bunch coming
toward us I recognized three men, Lessard, unmistakable in his black
uniform, Hicks, and Bevans. I turned the glasses over to MacRae then.
"I thought probably some more of our friends would show up," he said,
after a quick survey. "With those two in sight the chances are that all
four are with the troop. The other fellows in that squad are just plain
buck Policemen. Confound them, I wish----Aha, by Jupiter! the big chief
is turning off those two."
As Mac spoke I saw the two men I had spotted as Hicks and Bevans swing
away from the rest and angle toward Lost River. From our vantage point
we watched them come abreast and pass us at a distance well within a
mile. The others turned south, directly away from us.
"Now," Mac coolly declared, "here's where we get the chance we want, if
we're lucky. We'll keep parallel with these gentlemen, and if they get
out of touch with the rest we'll make a try at nailing them. Be careful,
though, how you show yourself; there's at least fifty of these
peacemakers within four or five miles, and a shot or a yell will bring
them on a high run."
Hicks and Bevans, whatever their destination, were in no haste. They
rode at a walk most of the time, and we were forced to keep the same
pace. It was slow work poking along those coulée-bottoms, now and then
making a risky sneak to ground, whence we could get a clear view of the
game we were stalking so assiduously.
Progressing in this manner we finally reached the breaks that ran down
to Lost River, not a great distance from where MacRae and I had kicked
over the traces of legally constituted authority the previous day. Here
we had to dodge over a stretch of ground barren of concealment, and to
do so waited till such time as Hicks and Bevans were themselves in the
depths of a coulée.
When next we caught sight of our men--well, to be exact, we saw only
one, and that was Bevans. He had stopped his horse on top of a knoll not
more than four hundred yards to the north of us, and was standing up in
his stirrups staring over the ears of his horse at a point down the
slope. Hicks had disappeared. Nor did we see aught of him during the
next few minutes that we spent glaring at Bevans and the surrounding
territory.
"I wonder if that square-jawed devil has got a glimpse of us and is
trying a lone-handed stalk himself?" I hazarded.
MacRae shook his head. "Not likely," he said. "If it was Paul Gregory,
now, that's the very thing he'd do. I don't quite _sabe_ this
performance."
We watched for sign of Hicks, but without result. Then Bevans got under
way and moved along at the same poky gait as before. When he had gone
some distance we took to the hollow. Twenty minutes jogging brought us
into a stretch of rough country, a series of knobs and ridges cut by
innumerable coulées. Here it became necessary to locate Mr. Bevans
again. Once more he was revealed on top of an elevation, studying the
surrounding landscape, and he was still alone.
"Where the mischief can Hicks have got to?" Mac growled. "We really
ought to smell him out before we do anything."
"Look, now," I said. "Don't you suppose Bevans is waiting for him?"
Bevans had dismounted and stretched himself on the ground in the shade
of his horse. But he was not napping; on the contrary, he was very much
on the alert, for his head turned slowly from side to side, quiescent as
he seemed; there would be little movement pass unobserved within range
of that pair of eyes.
"Maybe he is," MacRae replied. "Anyhow, I think we'd better wait a while
ourselves."
For nearly an hour Bevans kept his position. Hicks, if he were in the
vicinity, kept closely under cover. Bevans had all the best of the
situation, so far as being able to keep a lookout was a factor; the
opposite bank of the coulée we were in towered high above us, and shut
off our view in that direction. And we didn't dare risk showing
ourselves on high ground. Finally, after what seemed an interminable
period of waiting, Mac's patience frazzled out and he declared for
action.
"We're doing no good here," he said. "Hicks or no Hicks, I'm going to
have a try at making connections with his nibs on that hill. I think the
coulée right under his perch is an arm of the one we're in; runs in
somewhere below. Maybe we can get to him that way. It's worth trying."
As MacRae had surmised, our canyon forked below. We turned the point
after making sure that Bevans couldn't see us unless he moved. But the
uncertain beggar had moved, and moved to some purpose we quickly
learned; for when we next laid eyes on him he was out on the extreme
point of the little bench, opposite the mouth of the coulée we had
ascended, whirling his horse about in cramped circles. And in answer to
his signaling a full score of red-jacketed riders were galloping down
the ridges, a human comb that bade fair to rake us from our concealment
in a scant number of minutes.
"Looks bad for you and me, old boy," MacRae grinned. "I see now what
brother Hicks has been up to. But they haven't got us yet. Whatever
happens, Sarge, don't get excited and go to shooting. We can't win out
that way, against this combination. If we can't dodge and outrun them
we'll have to take our medicine. Down the coulée is our only chance.
There's only Bevans to stop us; and it won't really matter if we do put
his light out--be one thief less at the finish."
Bevans, however, made no demonstration. We just got a mere glimpse of
him, and I imagine he was nowise anxious to try heading us off, which he
could not do without coming into the open. Whipping around the crooked
bends at top speed, he had little chance to pot us, and I think he had
an idea that we would cheerfully pot him if he got in the way.
We mystified them somewhat, and gained considerable ground, by that
sudden dash, but it wasn't long before they were in full cry like a pack
of hounds, and the carbines began to pop in a futile sort of way. Mac
had not been far astray when he hazarded the guess that the troop would
have orders to shoot on sight, for they began to peck at us the moment
we came in view. We had just enough of a start, though, and our mounts
were just good enough and fresh enough to gradually draw away from them.
And as we were then out of the network of protecting coulées and
pattering over the comparative level of Lost River bottoms, I was very
glad that we were beyond carbine-range and that it was near sundown.
"Barring accidents, they can't get up on us now," Mac declared. "So I
think it'll be wise to keep south along the open bottoms. If they see us
splitting the breeze down Lost River, they won't look for us to bob up
from the opposite quarter to-morrow. When it gets dark and we're far
enough ahead, we can swing into the hills. That'll fool them plenty for
to-night. They'll probably try tracking us to-morrow, but I reckon
they'll find that a tough job."
They kept persistently after us, and we were more or less on the anxious
seat, till it did get dark. Then we turned sharp to the left and gained
high ground once more, congratulating ourselves on so easily getting out
of a ticklish place. If we hadn't moved up on Bevans they might have
surrounded us before we got wind of them. But we'd beaten them fairly,
and so we looked back through the dark and laughed; though I'm sure we
had no particular cause for merriment.