A DESPERATE RUSE.
Despite the fact that the man who spoke these words was a villain of
the deepest die, wantonly cruel, who had not hesitated to take the life
of man or woman when his doing so meant the saving of his own, there
was an impressiveness about his refusal to foreswear his promise to his
dead pal. And, respecting his attitude, regardless of how perverted it
was, the girl made no further attempt to dissuade him from his purpose.
Indeed, no opportunity could she have found even had she desired to
make the attempt.
As the horses bore them up the trail, the outlaws and their prisoners
were able to obtain a better view of the surrounding hills and what
they beheld amazed them.
The rocks seemed alive with scores of bobbing lights, giving to the
mountains, huge in their outlines, the appearance of strange monsters
with innumerable glowing eyes.
In silence, Rogers contemplated the spectacle.
And as he watched, there suddenly leaped into the air a great
semi-circular wall of flame.
"By the blood of old Barney! there'll be hot work to-night," snarled
the outlaw. "I'd calculated the manhunters would go into camp for the
night and instead they're searching with fire and torches!"
If the activity of the troopers alarmed Rogers and his pals, it raised
the spirits of the scouts to the highest pitch of exultation and
excitement.
Just where the Old Stockade was located, neither Jennings nor Scotty
knew, but so enormous was the semi-circle of flame they believed it
would be impossible for Rogers to reach it and his next move made their
belief certainty.
"You all stay here," he exclaimed. "I'm going to reconnoiter."
"Please don't, Red," pleaded the girl.
"But I must, Rosie. If it's a possible thing, we must get through to
the Stockade, and the flare from those fires is so deceptive, I can't
tell whether or not the trail is blocked unless I get close."
And without giving the girl the opportunity to make further protest,
the outlaw disappeared in the darkness.
Yet scarcely did it seem to the anxious group that he had gone than he
was back.
"Quick! Blindfold the prisoners!" he commanded. "We can't get to the
Old Stockade. The fire wall runs clear round the loop, and when I
turned 'Look out' rock, a score of lights were just starting up the
very mountain we're on."
"Where are you going, back?" queried Rose, the only indication of the
desperateness of their situation being in the tenseness of her voice.
"Don't talk direction," warned Rogers. "We're going to the 'Breathing
Cave.' It's our only chance--and it's going to be lively work. Dismount
and walk, Pedro. We can make better time and help the horses more."
Instantly the outlaw's commands were obeyed, and the dash for the
"Breathing Cave" and temporary safety, at least, was begun.
Maddened to think they were powerless to disclose the whereabouts
of Red Rogers, the scouts racked their brains for some expedient by
which they could manage to retard the fugitives. But in vain. And to
their helplessness was added the inability even to see how close their
comrades were.
When the heliograph signal had been received at the Fort and by the
three center columns that Lieutenant Fox and his men had not only
picked up the outlaw's trail, but had actually got near enough to shoot
at him, there was great excitement and jubilation among the troopers in
the saddle and the men left at the Post.
What the colonel and civil authorities had feared it might take weeks,
perhaps months, to do had been accomplished in less than forty-eight
hours, and their joy was corresponding.
Instantly word was telegraphed to deputy marshals and sheriffs as to
the general whereabouts of the fugitives, and they were urged to press
into service every man who could carry a gun and ride to the foothills
without mercy to their horses.
Assurances received that the request would be obeyed, the colonel
ordered four hundred of the five hundred troopers left at the Fort to
race to the scene, and he himself rode at their head.
Thoroughly aware of their quarry's resourcefulness, the colonel had
struck upon the scheme of throwing out the great semi-circle of fire
as an effective stop to the fugitives getting through to the North or
West. The East needed no protection, for it was self-evident that the
outlaw would not come out on the plains where capture was certain. Only
the South--the direction from which the civil posses would come--would
be left dark, for the reason that there were none among them who could
read the heliograph signals. But the colonel hoped they would see the
fires of his troopers and divining their purpose complete the circle.
Fox's men, by reason of their being on the scene, were ordered to the
West, together with such of the middle columns as could be got there in
time, while the men from the Fort were to take the Northern position.
Sparing neither themselves nor their mounts, the troopers rode, and the
exchange of rockets Rogers had seen were the announcements that the men
were in position, followed in due course by the signal to touch off the
wall of fire.
To Rogers and the girl, it seemed as though the torch-bearing troopers
must have wings, so rapidly did they advance, and the voices of the
manhunters approaching from the direction of "Look Out" rock soon
became audible, as they shouted encouragement to one another.
The course followed by the outlaw and his companions was almost due
Southwest.
"Can we make it?" breathed Rose, as the shouts became more and more
distinct.
"We've _got_ to make it," returned Rogers.
"Don't talk that way. Tell me the truth," pleaded the girl.
"Fifteen minutes will tell the tale, Rosie. Keep your eye on Pedro.
Don't let him lag."
In an agony of suspense, the girl kept her head turned toward the
manhunters while she maintained a whispered outpouring of encouragement
and exhortation at the bandit who was leading the prisoners.
Nearer and nearer, the fugitives approached the haven selected by the
notorious outlaw.
"I reckon we're safe, Rosie," breathed Rogers, at last. "We have less
than a hundred yards to go."
"Glory be!" returned the girl.
But their rejoicing was premature!
Barely had the words left the outlaw's lips than his keen eyes
discerned the form of a man skulking ahead of them.
Suppressing an oath, Rogers bade Rose halt and dismount. Then,
crouching low, he glided with wonderful swiftness upon the moving
figure.
As he drew himself together for the leap that would bring him upon the
man, Red's foot crunched a pebble.
Apprised by the sound that there was some one near at hand, for the
outlaw had managed to hide his advance in the shadow of the brush and
rocks lining the trail, the man stopped.
"Who goes there? Friend or foe?" he gasped.
"Friend," returned the outlaw, advancing boldly.
Relieved at the thought he had run across a fellow manhunter, the other
exclaimed:
"I'm glad you're here. I've heard hoofbeats coming up this trail for
several minutes. I don't believe any one else but Red and me knows of
the 'Breathing Cave,' so I suppose it's him. By standing one on each
side of the trail, we ought to get both him and Pedro.
"We'll shoot Pedro. But we won't get the ten thousand reward unless we
get Red alive. I asked Sheriff Black to-day. When I found that out and
heard where Red had been located and the plans the soldiers were making
which would cut off his going to the Old Stockade, I hit the trail for
the Cave. I'm----"
But the fellow never finished his sentence.
With a shocking oath, the terrible outlaw seized him by the throat and
shook him as a terrier does a rat.
"You would betray me for a reward, would you, Faro Pete?" he hissed.
An instant Rogers waited until the shudder which ran through his
captive's body told him the fellow had recognized him. Then he raised
his pistol butt and crashed it down with terrific force upon his
would-be betrayer's head.
Precious time had been lost, however, in listening to, Faro Pete--time
that Red spared only because he wished to learn all he could as to
the manhunters' plans and the reward. As soon as he had acquired this
information, he had ended his former pal's life, and dropping the body
beside the trail, the outlaw hastened back to his companions.
"There's some one over there to the North of us, I think," breathed
Pedro, when his master rejoined him.
Pressed on all sides, Rogers and his comrades were, indeed, in
desperate straits. One false move and their fate would be sealed.
A moment, the outlaw pondered.
"Quick, Rosie! Take this knife and cut the thongs binding the scouts to
the horses. Pedro, grab the smaller one. Choke him so he'll be quiet.
When I give the word, dash with him for the Cave. I'll tote the other.
"Rosie, when I say _now_, turn the horses and send them down the trail
on the run!"
These directions were uttered with as little noise as possible. Yet
they were overheard.
"Here they are! Here they are! Close in on 'em!" yelled four or five
voices from the direction Pedro had said he heard suspicious sounds.
Under the crackling of the bushes and the crunching of stones as the
manhunters advanced, Rogers whispered:
"Now!"
Frantically Rose jabbed the horses with the knife the outlaw had given
her.
Snorting with pain and fright, the animals dashed down the trail, the
beat of their iron shoes upon the rocks ringing out loud and clear.
"Watch out!"
"Down the trail!"
"They're mounted!"
"Shoot 'em!"
"Don't let 'em escape!"
In a babel of voices, these warnings and commands were roared.
"Crouch down!" breathed Rogers. "If they shoot, we'll dash for the
Cave. If they don't, we'll----"
Bang! crashed a volley. Then another and another.
With all speed possible, the troopers rushed up the mountainside while,
as the reports rang out and reverberated among the mountains, wild were
the wavings of torches by the manhunters too far away to join in the
pursuit.
And under cover of the confusion, Red Rogers and his comrades gained
the entrance to the "Breathing Cave."