TREACHERY
The inaction of the trader was brief. At his harsh question the wounded
Navaho thrust out a slim finger toward one of the rear exits from the
living room. Slade spoke a fierce command to Pete in the Navaho tongue
and rushed out through the opening to which the Indian had pointed.
Carmena uttered a horrified cry and sought to struggle up on her bound
feet. As she fell, Pete and the other Navaho caught hold of her. They
carried her out into the anteroom, without paying the slightest heed to
Lennon's threats and pleadings. He writhed and twisted himself toward
the doorway. Before he had reached the opening, the wounded Navaho
bounded back into the room. He seized Lennon and dragged him out.
Pete had squatted down to fasten a loop of the hoist rope about Carmena,
who lay behind the sacks of corn that barricaded the crane-hoist
entrance. She was speaking rapidly to the young Navaho in mingled
Spanish and English. At sight of the other Navaho and Lennon she paused.
Pete took the opportunity to mutter a sullen reply:
"_Basta._ Slade, him bad med'cine. Me no fight him. You go Cochise, _muy
pronto_."
"Wait!" urged the girl. "You want me to be your woman. Remember what I
promised if you'd help Slade to get up the canon against Cochise. I'll
promise more now. I'll give you all those horses and cattle--and I'll
give you myself. Sabe? I'll be your woman."
The Indian's eyes gleamed with avid desire. But he did not falter.
"Woman no good, me dead."
"Afraid--you girl!" taunted Carmena. "He's only a man. A single shot
will kill him. You have only to----"
"_Basta._ Him big devil. Me no shoot him. Him say you go Cochise, _muy
pronto_."
The stubborn coward turned away toward the windlass. Carmena glared
after him in agonized desperation.
"All right--all right, Pete!" she cried. "Lower me to Cochise. But
listen! You needn't fight Slade or any one. You heard how he fooled
Cochise--made him feel good by promising him me and Jack?"
"Me send you down, pronto."
"Yes--yes. Only first, if you want me to be your woman, listen. You
lower me, I make bargain with Cochise and----"
The rest of the fiercely urgent proposal was in Spanish. Pete came to a
pause and cast a stealthy glance at his fellow Navaho. The man had
dragged Lennon out past the windlass and turned back to grasp the crank
handle.
"You damn sure Cochise him no kill me? You no lie?" demanded Pete.
"Won't you be proving you are his friend?" countered the girl. "You know
Slade only half trusts you. He'll be sure to shoot you, soon as his
punchers come. How about it? Do you promise? It's your only chance to
get me, so long as you daren't tackle Slade yourself."
"Slade, him big devil. Injun no can----"
"Just wait and see," broke in Carmena. "Remember, there'll be tizwin for
you--all you can drink--heaps of tizwin!"
"Ugh!" grunted Pete. "Slade no come. _Bueno_--me do him you say."
He grunted to the other Navaho and swung the crane outward as the
tightening rope lifted the girl above the sacks of corn. She disappeared
from view below the barrier. The Navaho lowered away with a
deliberation that set Lennon's teeth on edge. The strain on his nerves
was not lessened by the total silence of the waiting Apaches down below.
At last the rope slackened. After a brief pause it was rapidly wound in
on the barrel of the windlass. Pete had already dragged Lennon to the
opening and heaved him up on the barricade. When the rope loop came up
to the crane, he jerked it in, made fast to Lennon, and shoved him off
into space.
Lennon plunged down nearly a dozen feet before the tautened rope stopped
his fall with a violent jerk. He hung dangling, with nothing between him
and the wreckage-strewn ledges of the cliff foot, thirty feet beneath.
The first jerk had started his body to gyrating. The rapidity with which
he was lowered increased the movement. By the time he reached the cliff
foot he was spinning like a roast before an old-time fireplace.
At first he had been able to make out Carmena standing in the midst of a
close group of Apaches. But she and the Indians and the cliff wall had
all merged into a blurred whirl before his dizzy eyes by the time he
struck the cliff foot. With the slackening of the rope he rolled over,
too giddy even to attempt to steady himself with his bound hands.
While his eyes were yet too dazed for clear vision, he heard Carmena's
voice, low-pitched and vibrant with passionate pleading:
"... And him too, Cochise. I'm not asking you to give up your fun with
him. Only wait till you've made sure of Slade. There's not a second to
lose. You have us. We can't get away. But if you don't do what I ask,
you won't get Slade. He'll be up there--safe--with your woman! And his
Navahos will trap you here in the Hole."
"You lie!" grunted the young Apache. "Slade send you down to git his
noose on me. I haul up pony lift--hit out Hell Canon--take you and white
fool. Heap fun with you and him!"
"What then?" queried Carmena. "You know you'll have Slade on your
trail--Slade and a posse and the soldiers. Slade will have to wipe you
out to cover up what we've been doing here. He'll lay it all on you and
your bunch--all the stealing. Can't you see? If he can't wipe you out
himself, he'll set the soldiers on your trail."
Lennon looked up and saw before his clearing eyes the dark evilly
handsome face of the Apache leader. It was as stolid as the faces of his
incomprehending followers. But his black eyes were fierce with hate.
"You lie!" he repeated. "You say, kill Slade. You say you no care what
become of you."
"Because I know you, Cochise," cajoled the girl, her voice soft and
confiding. "Weren't we friends before Slade came? Weren't we good to
you? Remember how we kept you hid in the Hole and never told the Indian
Agent? You'll not forget that. You'll treat me and Jack, my new pard,
all right when I've helped you kill Slade."
"Dam' friend--you," jeered the Indian. "You kept my woman."
"What if I did? How about now? Do you want Slade to have her? You know
he has been scheming all along to take her from you. Are you going to
let him do it? Think about her--and about the tizwin--that tizwin hidden
from you by Slade--barrels of tizwin! All yours if only you have the
nerve to go up after Slade!"
Cochise looked up the cliff, with a sudden ferocious scowl. Lennon was
gasping for breath against the frightfulness of what he had heard. To
save herself, Carmena was betraying her foster-sister to the fiendish
savage. Elsie's fate in the hands of Slade was fearful enough without
the added horror of what she would suffer in the hands of Cochise.
"Carmena!" he cried. "Carmena, are you mad? Think of Blossom! What does
it matter if we are tortured? Surely you can't intend----"
"Why not?" cried back the girl, her face aflame with vengeful anger.
"That big beast first ruined my father; now he has murdered him.
Cochise, you'll have to choose quickly. Run off with us and have your
fun, and have Slade trail you down; or kill him and get your woman and
the tizwin--barrels of tizwin!"
The young Apache plucked out his knife and sprang at the girl. A stroke
slashed through the thongs that bound her wrists. Her ankles had already
been freed. Cochise made a sharp upward gesture. Carmena shook her head
and pointed to Lennon.
"Let him lead the way up--unarmed," she suggested.
The advantage of the plan was instantly grasped by the crafty Apache. At
his command, two of his men cut loose Lennon's bonds and jerked him to
his feet.
"Wait, Carmena! Wait!" begged Lennon. "Think of Elsie!"
But the girl had already signalled to those above. The rope ladder came
slipping down the cliff face. Lennon fell silent. Protests were now
useless. The lowering of the ladder laid the cliff stronghold open to
the merciless Apaches.
He turned away from the girl, full of loathing. Slade might possibly
have refrained at the last moment from wronging Elsie. But Cochise----
There was no need of the Apache's prodding knife point to start him up
the ladder. Though he did not relish having to act as a living shield
for the attackers, he was more than willing to go first. Unluckily the
tightness of his bonds had so bruised the ligaments of his wrists and
ankles and left his limbs so numb that he had to climb with painful
slowness.
Cochise, following at his heels, cursed and jabbed his knife into
Lennon's leg. The cruel goading stung the benumbed muscles to quicker
action. Lennon sprinted up the ladder, clear of his torturer. A glance
down the rungs showed him three Apaches below Cochise, and Carmena at
the foot, waiting with the remainder of the band. The ladder would not
safely bear more than five climbers at a time.
Spurred even more by the plan that he had in mind than by the threat of
the knife, Lennon sought to increase his lead over Cochise. But the
Indian's wrists were not strained, and his flexible moccasins gave a
better hold on the ladder rungs than Lennon's stiff boot soles. With the
knife between his teeth, the young Apache swung up in swift pursuit.
Instead of gaining, Lennon lost his lead. Another downward glance, as he
grasped the last rung below the sill of the cliff house doorway, showed
him that Cochise was again at his heels. He must change the tactics of
his plan. He uttered a startled cry and pretended to slip down a rung.
Cochise let go the ladder with one hand to jab his knife at Lennon's
leg. Lennon jerked up the leg and kicked down with all his strength. The
heel of his boot struck squarely in the upturned face of the Apache. The
downward and outward force of the blow jerked loose Cochise's one-handed
grip on the ladder. But even as he toppled backward, he crooked a leg
with catlike quickness over one of the rungs.
Lennon saw only that his enemy was falling. His hand had already groped
over the edge of the sill. Without another downward glance, he flung
himself up and into the doorway. The wild scramble and plunge all but
drove him headlong over the sack of corn and against the menacing muzzle
of Pete's rifle.
That double traitor stood crouched at the inner side of the thick-walled
entrance, torn between fear of Cochise and terror of Slade. Lennon had
counted upon this dread and uncertainty of the young Navaho. He flung
out his hands to him in urgent gestures.
"Quick--quick!" he cried. "Cut loose the ladder! Cochise will kill you!
He's coming! Cut the ladder!"
The Indian shrank back to peer at the inner openings of the cliff
house.
"Carmena--him no lie," he muttered. "Cochise kill 'um Slade."
"But you first!" urged Lennon. "He will----"
The band of an Apache headress shot up above the edge of the door sill.
Lennon sprang at Pete to clutch his knife. The Navaho flung up his
rifle. A chance blow of the barrel sent Lennon staggering half across
the anteroom.
The Apache writhed up into the doorway and bounded over the sack of
corn, his knife poised to strike. Pete whirled and fired from the hip.
An instant later he was locked in the clutch of the yelling, slashing
Apache. As they crashed down together in a furious death grapple, a
second Apache came scrambling in over the cliff edge. Side by side with
him appeared Cochise, the print of Lennon's boot-heel already blackening
on his ferociously scowling forehead.
Pete's rifle had fallen outward into the doorway, alongside the sack of
corn. Lennon was unarmed. There was no time for him to wrest the knife
from the wounded Apache and slash the ladder ropes. Cochise clutched
Pete's rifle and started to swing it around. His companion thrust out a
revolver.
The shot missed Lennon by inches as he leaped to the side opposite the
living room. He dashed out the first opening and started to run through
the front row of rooms, shouting at the top of his voice.
"Slade! Slade!" he yelled. "Cochise--Apaches! Defend yourself!"
From the inner rooms on his right came back an angry bellow. "What the
devil?"
Lennon twisted aside through a black doorway. Farther in he saw a
glimmer of light. Sharp turns through two more doorways brought him into
a kiva, or sacred chamber of the cliff dwellers, that was lighted by a
pair of candles. Slade stood beside the broken-edged entrance hole with
drawn revolver. The wounded Navaho was peering down from a hole in the
ceiling.
"Elsie!" panted Lennon. "Hide her! Pete betrayed you! All the
Apaches--coming up the ladder!"
Slade sprang sideways along the figure-decorated wall of the kiva. He
leaped to grasp the edge of the ceiling hole. The Navaho helped him draw
up into the dark room above. As his feet swung clear Lennon leaped in
turn to grasp the edge of the hole.
"Give me a hand up," he called. "I'll help you defend Elsie."
"Sure. You'll serve for wolf bait," jeered Slade.
His big hand thrust down and tapped the butt of the heavy revolver on
the top of Lennon's head.