THE DASH FOR LIFE.
Cursing frightfully, Red and Pedro leaped to their feet, whipping out
their six shooters, as they faced about.
At a glance, the notorious outlaw took in the situation and as he
realized the narrow margin of his escape, he glowered at the heroic
scout, his face hideous from fury and hatred.
But Red never allowed his emotions to dull his brain.
Scarce a second had elapsed since Rosie's cry had warned the outlaw
of his danger, and, realizing that the scout's impetus was so great
he would be unable to stop himself from rolling over the edge of the
plateau, he stepped over the body and started toward the cave.
Their attention attracted to their comrade by the girl's warning, Shaw
and Scotty managed to turn so they could see what was transpiring. And
as they beheld the bandit fiend step over their companion's body, their
eyes became transfixed with horror.
So atrociously wanton was Red's act that the girl could not stand it.
"Seize him! Grab him!" she pleaded. "If you want to kill him, put a
bullet into him--not that way."
But the outlaw's fury knew no bounds.
"Get into the cave--if you don't like it," he hissed.
With a shudder, Rose clapped her hands to her face while the scouts,
unable to bear the sight of their comrade going to so awful a death,
turned their heads away.
But Providence did not desert the brave Jennings--though his plan to
send the terrible outlaw to his well deserved fate had been foiled.
For seconds that seemed eternal, the others awaited the crackling of
the brush along the edge and the thump that should announce the fall of
the prisoner.
At last, unable longer to bear the strain of suspense, Rosie peered
between her fingers.
"He's saved! He's saved!" she shouted, exultantly. "Pedro, get him and
bring him to the cave."
At the cry, the outlaws and scouts alike had faced about.
In a declivity, whose existence had been hidden by grass, lay Jennings,
midway between where Red Rogers had been sitting and the edge of the
plateau!
As he realized the miracle of the scout's escape, the outlaw blanched.
"Get me some whiskey, Rosie," he stammered.
But the girl did not move.
"Tell me first what you're going to do," she retorted.
"What? You dare disobey me?" thundered the desperado, glad to have some
one upon whom to vent his rage and disappointment. "I'll show you----"
Yet, as he wheeled, his threat died upon his lips.
With steady hand and determined face, the girl was standing in front of
the cave, her six shooters levelled at the outlaw's head.
"Now, don't get excited, Red," she exclaimed, quietly. "I'm running
this show for a few minutes. That scout's escape is a warning. His life
wasn't saved for nothing. If you do anything to him now, bad luck will
follow you.
"Pedro, fetch him to the cave!"
The calmness and presence of mind of the girl, as she faced the
desperate outlaw, won the admiration of the scouts, while her reference
to the supernatural struck the one vulnerable spot in Red's make-up.
And, as the fiend who laughed at physical danger, struggled to overcome
his superstition, the others watched him breathlessly.
Upon the phlegmatic Pedro alone did the dramatic scene fail to have
effect.
Glancing from girl to outlaw, he shifted uneasily.
"Shall I fetch him?" he finally demanded of his chief.
Breathlessly the others awaited Red's reply.
But, ere he could speak, there rang out a sharp "ping"--and a bullet
flattened itself against the cliff above Rosie's head.
"Where's that from?" roared the desperado, wheeling.
One glance from the edge of the plateau answered him.
Seeming no bigger than ants, a file of men wound in and out among the
rocks far below.
"It's the troopers! Quick, saddle up!" commanded the bandit. "They're
shooting at such an angle they can't hit us here. But this is no place
to stand a siege.
"It'll be hot work reaching the Old Stockade, _now_!"
In the face of this unexpected danger, the stress of the past few
moments was forgotten.
Quickly Rose dashed into the cave, returning with a canvas bag and some
blankets, while Red and Pedro hurriedly caught the stolen army horses,
thrust bridles, rudely improvised the night before from pieces of
rawhide, into their mouths, and then, with other pieces of thong, laced
the blankets brought out by the girl upon their backs.
"How about the scouts? Shall we leave 'em?" inquired Pedro.
"Not much!" returned the outlaw, once more the calculating bandit whose
resourcefulness was his greatest strength. "The troopers will be sure
to come here, and if they find our prisoners, there'll be just three
more against us."
"But we can put them out of the way," suggested the girl, her former
compassion vanished.
"Sure, whenever we want. Just now, we need 'em. We'll each put one
behind us. They'll serve as a bullet shield."
By this time the patter of the bullets against the wall of rock had
become a veritable hailstorm and the wisdom of the bandit's plan was
evident for, once on the trail, there was no telling when some trooper
might get the exact range.
The work of placing their prisoners upon the ponies and binding their
legs tight beneath the animals' bellies was the work of only a few
minutes.
In order to get the greatest service from the horses, Red had placed
the two lightest of the band, Rose and Scotty, upon the smallest horse,
assigning Pedro and Shaw to the next smallest, and reserving the most
powerful, which was none other than Jennings' own Bonehead, for himself
and his human shield.
"We'll ride from the plateau one at a time," instructed the outlaw,
when all was ready. "The troopers don't know how strong we are, and
when they see one after another dash out, we'll gain time, because
they'll wait to find if there are more.
"Ride close to the cliff and at a run. Turn to the right at the end of
the plateau and go down the mountain. Rosie, you go first. I'll follow.
Bend low. _Now!_"
Rapidly the desperado had uttered his instructions, and as he gave the
word, the girl leaped her horse forward and, at what seemed foolhardy
speed to the scout at her back, gained the edge of the shelf of rock,
then dashed down the trail, which quickly carried them into the
protection of the woods.
Taken by surprise, the troopers had sent not one bullet at the girl.
But, when Red Rogers and Jennings appeared in the open, as they raced
for the shelter of the trees, shells whistled and spat as they sped
over their heads or flattened themselves against the rocks below.
"Swing your man round to your side, Pedro. They'll have the range on
you," shouted his chief, drawing rein to wait for his pal.
Unfortunate for Shaw proved the warning.
Quickly obeying his master, Pedro jerked the scout to his side, then
clapped spurs to his mount.
As the horse gained the trail, there was a volley of shells, one of
which caught Shaw in the shoulder and another ploughed through his
breeches, just escaping his thigh.
"Lucky there are no more of us," grinned the outlaw, as he hurriedly
bound up Shaw's wound. "Even _I_ shouldn't care about crossing that
clearing again. You men at Fort Griswold shoot well, I'll say that
much. But when you're on patrol, you act like kids."
This allusion to the ease with which he had first stolen their horses
and then captured them grated deeply upon the two veteran scouts.
"Wait till this fun is over. You'll sing a different tune," flashed
Jennings, unable to restrain himself longer.
"Think so, eh?" grinned Red Rogers. "Say, I'd make a bet with you if I
wasn't opposed to taking money from a child.
"Just to show you I'm right, my doubling on my tracks will give me at
least six hours' leeway.
"Your troopers will think I've ridden up the mountain and before they
learn their mistake, it will be dark."