THE FUGITIVES
I could not see the mingled hate and horror glaring in the man's eyes,
but there could be no doubt of his recognition. The acknowledgment
found expression in a startled exclamation.
"By God!--you, here!"
That was all the time I gave him. With every pound of strength, with
every ounce of dislike, I drove a clenched fist into that surprised
face, and the fellow went down as though smitten by an axe. Even as he
reeled, Rale leaped on me, cursing, failing to understand the cause,
yet instinctively realizing the presence of an enemy. He caught me
from behind, the very weight of his heavy body throwing me from
balance, although I caught one of his arms, as he attempted to strike,
and locked with him in desperate struggle. He was a much heavier and
stronger man than I, accustomed to barroom fighting, reckless of
method, caring for nothing except to get his man. His grip was at my
throat, and, even as his fingers closed savagely, he struck me with one
knee in the stomach, and drove an elbow straight into my face. The
next instant we were locked together so closely any blow became
impossible, youth and agility waging fierce battle against brutal
strength. I think I was his match, yet this I never knew--for all my
thought centered in an effort to keep his hands from reaching any
weapon. Whatever happened to me, there must be no alarm, no noise
sufficiently loud so as to attract the attention of sentries on guard.
This affair must be fought out with bare knuckles and straining
sinews--fought in silence to the end. I held him to me in a bear grip,
but his overmastering strength bore me backward, my body bending
beneath the strain until every muscle ached.
"Damn you--you sneakin' spy!" he hissed savagely, and his jaws snapped
at me like a mad beast. "Let go! damn you--let go!"
Crazed by the pain, I swerved to one side, and half fell, my grip torn
loose from about his arms, but as instantly closing again around his
lower body. He strained, but failed to break my grasp, and I should
have hurled him over the hip, but at that second Gaskins struck me, and
I went tumbling down, with the saloon keeper falling flat on top of me,
his pudgy fingers still clawing fiercely at my throat. It seemed as
though consciousness left my brain, crushed into death by those
gripping hands, and yet the spark of life remained, for I heard the
ex-preacher utter a yelp, which ended in a moan, as a blow struck him;
then Rale was jerked off me, and I sobbingly caught my breath, my
throat free. Into my dazed mind there echoed the sound of a voice.
"Is thet 'nough, Jack?--then holler. Damn yer, yer try thet agin, an'
I'll spill whut brains ye got all over this kintry. Yes, it's Tim
Kennedy talkin', an' he's talkin' ter ye. Now yer lie whar yer are.
Yer ain't killed, be ye, Knox?"
I managed to lift myself out of the dirt, still clutching for breath
but with my mind clearing.
"No; I guess I'm all right, Tim," I said, panting out the words with an
effort. "What's become of Kirby? Don't let him get away."
"I ain't likely to. He's a lyin' right whar yer dropped him. Holy
Smoke! it sounded ter me like ye hit him with a pole-axe. I got his
gun, an' thet's whut's makin' this skunk hold so blame still--oh, yes,
I will, Jack Rale; I'm just a achin' fer ter let ye hav' it."
"And the other fellow? He hit me."
"My ol' frien', Gaskins; thet's him, all right." The deputy gave vent
to a short, mirthless laugh. "Oh, I rapped him with the butt; had ter
do it. He'd got hold ov a club somwhar, an' wus goin' ter give yer
another. It will be a while, I reckon, 'fore he takes much interest.
What'll I do with this red-headed gink?"
I succeeded in reaching my feet, and stood there a moment, gaining what
view I could through the darkness. The short struggle, desperate as it
had been, was not a noisy one, and I could hear nothing about us to
indicate any alarm. No hurrying footsteps, no cries told of
disturbance in any direction. Kirby rested exactly as he had fallen,
and I stared down at the dim outlines of his distended body, unable to
comprehend how my swift blow could have wrought such damage. I bent
over him wonderingly, half believing he feigned unconsciousness. The
fellow was alive, but his head lay upon a bit of jagged rock--this was
what had caused serious injury, not the impact of my fist. Kennedy had
one hard knee pressed into Rale's abdomen and the star-rays reflected
back the steel glimmer of the pistol held threateningly before the
man's eyes. The horses beyond stood motionless, and the two women in
the saddles appeared like silent shadows. I stood up once more,
peering through the darkness and listening. Whatever was to be done, I
must decide, and quickly.
"Have Rale stand up, but keep him covered. Don't give him any chance
to break away; now wait---there is a lariat rope hanging to this
saddle; I'll get it."
It was a strong cord and of good length, and we proceeded to bind the
fellow securely in spite of his objections, I taking charge of the
pistol, while Tim, who was more expert, did the job in a workmanlike
manner. Rale ventured no resistance, although he made no effort to
restrain his tongue.
"Thar ain't no use pullin' thet rope so tight, yer ol' fule. By God,
but yer goin' ter pay fer all this. Maybe ye think ye kin git away in
this kintry, but I'll show ye. Damn nice trick yer two played, wa'n't
it? The lafe will be on 'tother side afore termorrer night. No, I
won't shet up, an' ye can't make me--ye ain't done with this job yet.
Curse ye, Tim Kennedy, let up on thet."
"Now gag him, Tim," I said quietly. "Yes, use the neckerchief. He can
do more damage with his mouth than any other way. Good enough; you are
an artist in your line; now help me drag him over here into the woods.
He is a heavy one. That will do; all we can hope for is a few hours
start."
"Is Kirby dead?"
"I'm afraid not, but he has got an ugly bump, and lost some blood, his
head struck a rock when he fell. It will be a while, I imagine, before
he wakes up. How about your man?"
He crossed over and bent down above the fellow, feeling with his hands
in the darkness.
"I reckon he's a goner, Cap," he admitted, as though surprised. "Gosh,
I must'r hit the cuss harder than I thought--fair caved in his hed, the
pore devil. I reckon it's no great loss ter noboddy."
"But are you sure he is dead? That will put a different aspect on all
this, Kennedy!" I exclaimed gravely, facing him as he arose to his
feet. "That and the belief I now have that Kirby has already
consummated his plan of marriage with Miss Beaucaire."
"You mean he has--"
"Yes, that he has forced the girl to assent to some form of ceremony,
probably legal in this country. I overheard enough between him and
Rale to suspect it, at least, and she is even now under the influence
of some drug. She hasn't spoken, nor does she seem to know what is
going on about her. They strapped her into the saddle."
"The hell they did."
"It has been a hellish affair all the way through, and the only way in
which I can serve her, if this is so, is by getting her away--as far
away as possible, and where this devil can never find her again. She's
got to be saved not only from him, but also from the scandal of it."
He stood silent, little more than a shadow before me, his head bent, as
though struggling with a new thought, a fresh understanding.
"I reckon I kin see thet, sir, now." His voice somehow contained a new
note of respect, as though the truth had suddenly dawned upon him, "I
didn't just get hold o' things rightly afore; why an army offercer like
yer should be mixed up in this sorter job. But I reckon I do now--yer
in love with her yerself; ain't thet it, sir?"
"Yes, Tim," I confessed frankly, and not at all sorry to make the
avowal. "That is the truth. Now what would you do if you were in my
place?"
"Just exactly whut yer doin', I reckon," he returned heartily. "Only
maybe I'd kill thet dirty skunk afore I went away; damned if I wudn't."
I shook my head.
"No, not in cold-blood. I wouldn't have been sorry if he had died
fighting, but murder is not my line. He deserves death, no doubt, but
it is not possible for me to kill him lying there helpless. What
bothers me most right now is your case."
"Mine? Lord, what's the matter with me?"
"Considerable, I should say. You cannot be left here alone to face the
result of this night's work. If Gaskins is dead from the blow you
struck him, these two fellows will swear your life away just for
revenge. Even if you told the whole story, what chance would you have?
That would only expose us, and still fail to clear you. It would
merely be your word against theirs--you would have no witnesses, unless
we were caught."
"I reckon thet's true; I wasn't thinkin' 'bout it."
"Then there is only the one road to take, Tim," I insisted. "We've got
to strike the trail together."
"Whar?"
"I cannot answer that now; I haven't thought it out yet. We can talk
that matter over as we ride. I have a map with me, which will help us
decide the best course to choose. The first thing is to get out of
this neighborhood beyond pursuit. If you only had a horse."
"Thar's two critters down in the crick bottom. I reckon thet Kirby an'
Gaskins must'r tied 'em thar."
"Good; then you will go; you agree with me?"
"Thar ain't nuthin' else fer me ter do--hangin' ain't never bin no
hobby o' mine. As I understand it, this Gaskins wus one o' these yere
militia men. I reckon thet if these yere two bug's wus ter swear thet
I killed him--as most likely they will--them boys wud string me up
furst, an' find out fer sure afterwards. Thar ain't so damn much law
up yere, an' thet's 'bout whut wud happen. So the sooner I leave these
yere parts, the more likely I am ter live a while yet."
"Then let's start," decisively. "Pick up one of those horses down on
the bottom, and turn the other one loose. I'll lead on down the trail
and you can meet us at the ford--once across the creek we can decide
which way to travel; there must be four hours of darkness yet."
I picked up the trailing rein of my horse and slipped my arm through
it. Tim faded away in the gloom like a vanishing shadow. The young
woman next me, strapped securely to her saddle, made no movement,
exhibited no sign of interest; her head and body drooped, yet her hands
grasped the pommel as though she still retained some dim conception of
her situation. The face under her hood was bent forward and shaded and
her eyes, although they seemed open, gave no heed to my presence. I
touched her hands--thank God, they were moist and warm, but when I
spoke her name it brought no response. The other horse, ridden by the
mulatto girl, was forced in between us.
"Who are ye?" she questioned, wonderingly. "Ye just called her by
name, an' ye must know her. Whut ye goin' fer ter do with us, sah?"
I looked up toward her face, without distinguishing its outlines. I
felt this was no time to explain; that every moment lost was of value.
"Never mind now; I know who she is and that you are Elsie Clark. We
are your friends."
"No he ain't--not thet other man; he ain't no friend o' mine. Ah tell
ye. He's de one whut locked me up on de boat. Ah sure know'd his
voice; he done locked me up, an' Ah's a free nigger."
"Forget that, Elsie; he's helping you now to get away. You do just
what I tell you to and above all keep still. Miss Beaucaire was
drugged, wasn't she?"
"Ah don't know, sah. She sure does act mighty queer, but Ah nebber see
her take nuthin'. Ah nebber see nuthin' 'tall till dey took me outer
de shack an' galivanted me up yere. Whar I heerd yer voice afore?"
"I haven't time to explain that; we are going now."
I started forward on foot, leading my horse, the others trailing after
through the darkness. Knowing nothing of the way, I was thus better
able to pick the path, yet I found this not difficult, as it was rather
plainly outlined by the forest growth on either side. It led downward
at a gentle slope, although the grade was sufficiently steep so as to
force Eloise's body forward and compel me to support her as best I
could with one arm. She still appeared to be staring directly ahead,
with unseeing eyes, although her hands clung as tightly as ever to the
saddle pommel. I clinched my teeth, half crazed at the sight of her
condition, yet feeling utterly helpless to do more. I spoke to her
again, but received no answer, not the slightest evidence that she even
heard my voice or recognized her name.
The trail was clay with a few small stones embedded in it, and the
horses made little noise in their descent, except once when Elsie's
animal slipped and sent a loosened bit of rock rolling down to splash
in some pool below. We came to the bank of the creek at last, a narrow
stream, easily fordable, but with a rather steep shore line beyond, and
waited there a moment until Tim emerged from out the black woods at our
right and joined us. He was mounted, and, believing the time had
arrived for more rapid movement, I also swung up into saddle and ranged
the girl's horse beside mine.
"It looks to be open country beyond there," I said, pointing across,
"what little I can see of it. You better ride the other side of Miss
Beaucaire, Tim, and help me hold her up--the colored girl can trail
behind. We'll jog the horses a bit."
They were not stock to be proud of, yet they did fairly well, Tim's
mount evidently the best of the four. The going was decidedly better
once we had topped the bank. The stars were bright enough overhead to
render the well-marked trail easily visible, and this led directly
southward, across a rolling plain. We may have ridden for two miles
without a word, for, although I had no intention of proceeding far in
this direction, I could discover no opportunity for changing our
course, so as to baffle pursuit. That Kirby and Rale would endeavor to
follow us at the earliest opportunity was most probable. They were
neither of them the sort to accept defeat without a struggle, and,
after the treatment they had received, the desire for revenge would be
uppermost. Nor thus far would there be any difficulty in their picking
up our trail, at least as far as the creek crossing, and this would
assure them the direction we had chosen. Beyond the ford tracing our
movements might prove more troublesome, as the short, wiry grass under
foot, retained but slight imprint of unshod hoofs, the soil beneath
being of a hard clay. Yet to strike directly out across the prairie
would be a dangerous experiment.
Then suddenly, out of the mysterious darkness which closed us in,
another grove loomed up immediately in our front, and the trail plunged
sharply downward into the depths of a rugged ravine. I was obliged to
dismount and feel my way cautiously to the bottom, delighted to
discover there a smoothly flowing, narrow stream, running from the
eastward between high banks, overhung by trees. It was a dismal,
gloomy spot, a veritable cave of darkness, yet apparently the very
place I had been seeking for our purpose. I could not even perceive
the others, but the restless movement of their horses told me of their
presence.
"Kennedy."
"Right yere, sir. Lord, but it's dark--found enything?"
"There is a creek here. I don't know where it flows from, but it seems
to come out of the east. One thing is certain, we have got to get off
this trail. If we can lead the horses up stream a way and then circle
back it would keep those fellows guessing for a while. Come here and
see what you think of the chance."
He was not to exceed two yards away from me, but came shuffling
uncertainly forward, feeling gingerly for footing in the blackness
along the rock-strewn bank. His outstretched hand touched me,
startling us both, before we were aware of our close proximity.
"Hell, but I'm as blind as a bat," he laughed. "Is this the crick?
How wide is it?"
"I just waded across; about five yards and not more than two feet deep."
"Maybe it's blocked up above."
"Of course, it might be, but it seems like a chance worth taking. We
are sure to be caught if we hang to this trail."
"I reckon thet's so. Ye let me go ahead with the nigger gurl, an' then
follow after us, leadin' Miss Beaucaire's boss. By jeminy crickets,
'tain't deep 'nough fer ter drown us enyway, an' I ain't much afeerd o'
the dark. Thar's likely ter be sum place whar we kin get out up thar.
Whar the hell are them hosses?"
We succeeded in locating the animals by feeling and I waited on the
edge of the bank, the two reins wrapped about my arm, until I heard the
others go splashing down into the water. Then I also groped my own way
cautiously forward, the two horses trailing behind me, down the sharply
shelving bank into the stream. Tim chose his course near to the
opposite shore, and I followed his lead closely, guided largely by the
splashing of Elsie's animal through the shallow water. Our movement
was a very slow and cautious one, Kennedy halting frequently to assure
himself that the passage ahead was safe. Fortunately the bottom was
firm and the current not particularly strong, our greatest obstacle
being the low-hanging branches which swept against us. Much of my time
was expended in holding these back from contact with Eloise's face, our
horses sedately plodding along behind their leaders.
I think we must have waded thus to exceed a mile when we came to a fork
in the stream and plumped into a tangle of uprooted trees, which ended
our further progress. Between the two branches, after a little search,
we discovered a gravelly beach, on which the horses' hoofs would leave
few permanent marks. Beyond this gravel we plunged into an open wood
through whose intricacies we were compelled to grope blindly, Tim and I
both afoot, and constantly calling to each other, so as not to become
separated. I had lost all sense of direction, when this forest finally
ended, and we again emerged upon open prairie, with a myriad of stars
shining overhead.