For what seemed hours Nan and Rex stared across the fire at this man. It
was Napoleon Bonaparte Briggs, but they did not know him. His closest
friends would have had difficulty in recognizing him now. His head
seemed to have been battered until it was out of shape. His forehead was
swollen over his eyes, giving him almost the appearance of a gorilla,
and on one side of his head the scalp had been torn loose, disclosing an
ugly wound.
His eyes glittered brightly in the firelight, as he swayed on his feet,
moving his head slowly, shifting his eyes from Nan to Rex, as though
trying to make up his mind just what to do. Rex and Nan seemed incapable
of speech. Neither of them had known Briggs. Suddenly his lips parted
and he laughed insanely, disclosing two broken front teeth. Rex started
to step forward, but the gun muzzle shifted toward him quickly.
‘What ’r yuh doin’ here?’ he asked gutturally.
‘Somebody shot my horse,’ said Rex weakly.
‘What ’r yuh doin’ here?’ he repeated, as though he had not heard Rex.
‘Keep back! I’ll kill yuh. I own this place, and I don’t allow nobody
here.’
‘We’ll go away,’ said Nan quickly, getting to her feet.
‘Woman, eh?’
He laughed foolishly. ‘Woman came on my place. Woman and horse meat.
Don’t move. Woman, horse meat, and them damn buzzards. What ’r yuh doin’
here, I asked yuh?’
There was no question that the man was insane; dangerously insane. The
fire was dying out now. Unconscious of the danger, Rex reached down to
pick up a piece of wood, and a bullet smashed the dirt beneath his
knuckles. The report of the heavy cartridge echoed back from the cliffs,
and Rex almost fell over backwards.
‘I tell yuh I’ll kill yuh,’ declared Briggs. ‘I own this place, and I
don’t ’low nobody here.’
‘Will you let us go away?’ asked Nan, hardly speaking above a whisper.
‘No! You’d tell somebody where I am. You can’t go.’
‘We wouldn’t tell,’ croaked Rex pleadingly.
‘You’re a liar! You can’t go. I run this place. Don’t you try to pick up
anythin’.’
‘Where do you live?’ asked Nan. She wanted to change the subject, to get
his mind off killing some one.
‘Never mind where I live. You’ll find out soon enough. That’s what they
all want to know. Everybody asks me where I live, but I don’t tell.
C’mon.’
He backed away from the fire, keeping them covered with the gun.
Away from the firelight the darkness was intense.
‘No!’ he grunted. ‘The woman goes first.’
Even through his twisted brain was a strain of intelligent cunning. He
realized that he could not control both of them in the darkness. He
moved back closer to Rex, peering at him closely.
‘You stay here,’ he ordered. ‘You move and I’ll kill yuh.’
‘I won’t move,’ promised Rex.
‘Don’t move. I’ll come back for you. If you go away, I’ll find yuh. You
can’t get away.’
He grasped Nan by the shoulder and shoved her ahead of him out into the
blackness of the cañon. Rex dropped on his knees beside the fire, piling
on more wood. His brain was in a whirl. This crazy man was taking Nan
away, and he was letting her go.
In an access of fury at himself he flung a stick into the fire, sending
up a shower of sparks, and for the first time in his life he cursed
openly, bitterly. From far up the cañon came the leering laughter of the
crazy Briggs.
Then something snapped in the brain of the young man at the fire, and he
ran headlong up the cañon, bruising himself against boulders, being
whipped across the face with branches, falling headlong at times.
He had lost all sense of reason. After a fall he had picked up a club,
and now he went sneaking along, alert to every sound, gripping the club
in his right hand, his left hand extended ahead of him, feeling out into
the darkness.
Gone was all fear of the darkness, of wild animals. Rex Morgan had
reverted to the primitive. Another cave man had stolen his woman, and he
was going to get her. On and on he went, climbing boulders, stumbling
over exposed roots, until he came to a spot where he could go no
farther.
In the darkness he discovered that he was at the bottom of what had been
an ancient waterfall. There were high banks all around him, but he found
a way out. It was a sort of trail up the left bank, twisting between
giant boulders.
He reached what seemed to be the cañon level again, and sank back on his
haunches to listen. Then he heard voices. They were very indistinct, and
he strained his ears. The wind whined among the boulders, drowning out
the sound, but he thought he had located it.
Gripping his club tightly, he began working up the slope to the left,
under the towering cliffs. It was slow work, this climbing in the
darkness. He slipped and sprawled full length on a sloping rock, losing
his club; but got back to his hands and knees and kept going up over the
ledges.
Then he saw the flicker of a fire, the scent of burning meat. Pulling
himself up to the rim of the rock he looked into a cave. In reality he
was in the cave himself, as the ledge above him projected twenty feet
farther out over the cañon.
Nan was huddled on the floor near the fire, while Briggs towered over
her, bulking huge in the firelight. Their shadows were huge, goblin-like
things against the wall of the cave. On the fire sizzled a huge hunk of
raw meat, which was sending off a strong odor.
Briggs was talking to Nan, but Rex could not hear what was said. Finally
Briggs left her and came shambling past where Rex crouched on the rock,
and disappeared in the darkness. Rex slid off the rock and crossed the
entrance of the cave to the fire, and Nan looked up at him wonderingly.
‘How did you get here?’ she asked.
Rex brushed a hand across his eyes and stared back at the entrance, as
though seeking an answer to her question.
‘I--I just came,’ he said, and squatted down beside the fire.
‘He has gone after you, Rex.’
‘I suppose.’
‘He’ll come back.’
Rex stared at her dully. ‘Very likely,’ he said.
‘Don’t you realize what it means, Rex? The man is crazy. He says he will
kill you, because he don’t want you here.’
‘That meat is burning, isn’t it?’
‘He said it was horse meat. But don’t you understand, Rex? That man will
come back and kill you.’
‘No, he won’t.’
Rex got to his feet and picked up a stone about the size of a baseball,
swinging it in his hand to test the weight.
‘I’m going to kill him first,’ he said flatly, and went back toward the
opening of the cave.
He knew just where Briggs would pass in entering the cave; so he climbed
up on a slab of sandstone, several feet higher than the level of a man’s
head, and stretched out flat. He was in the deep shadow, but by lifting
his head he could see the fire in the cave, where Nan still huddled. He
turned his head and peered over the outer rim of the rock. Something was
moving down there, and he could see the dark outline of something.
It came closer, and he decided that it was the crazy man, sneaking back
to the cave. Perhaps, thought Rex, he knows I am here, and is trying to
surprise me. Inching carefully forward, he swung up his arm and sent the
heavy stone crashing downward, where it thudded against some yielding
object.
Came a spitting snarl, the rasp of claws on sandstone, and the object
vanished down the cañon. He had hit a mountain lion with the stone. Rex
realized instantly that he had hit an animal instead of a man, because
that snarl never came from a human throat.
But now he was without a weapon of any kind. He slid off the sandstone
shelf and went back toward the firelight, trying to pick up another
stone. The lion had probably been attracted by the smell of the meat and
was stalking the cave.
Rex secured another stone and turned back toward the shelf, when he
heard the man coming back, talking to himself. It was too late for him
to regain the shelf; so he darted in beside a small ledge, crouching as
low as possible.
He heard the scuff of leather soles on the rock, as Briggs came
cautiously. Then he saw the huge bulk of the man pass him, going slowly,
evidently peering into the cave, trying to see if everything was all
right.
Rex straightened up, drew back his arm and flung the stone. But it
slipped from his hand and crashed against the wall, far to the right of
its victim, and Briggs whirled quickly, grunting with astonishment.
But Rex did not wait to see if he missed. As he flung the stone, he also
flung himself forward, locking both arms around Briggs, and his rush
carried enough weight to send Briggs to his knees against the sandstone
wall of the cave.
The heavy revolver went spinning across the stony floor, and the two men
surged to their feet, only to crash down again, fighting with tooth and
nail; fighting silently, as far as their voices were concerned.
Although Briggs was past middle age, he was as strong as any man in the
country, and this, added to his insane fury, would have made him more
than a match for any professional wrestler in the world. Rex was not
particularly strong, but he was fighting for his life, and for the life
of Nan Lane, and he clung to Briggs like a burr.
He had his left arm around Briggs’s neck, his right locked beneath
Briggs’s right arm-pit, the while his knees dug into the small of
Briggs’s back. Briggs managed to get hold of Rex’s left ankle with his
left hand, but Rex promptly locked his other leg around Briggs’s waist,
spurring him in the stomache.
Rex’s grip around Briggs’s neck was shutting off his wind; so he let
loose of the ankle, using both hands to tear Rex’s arm away from his
throat. It gave Rex a chance to release his right arm, but before he
could do anything, Briggs had caught his left wrist with his left hand,
reached back with his right, grasping Rex’s shoulder, and flung him ten
feet away.
Rex landed on one knee, his left arm numb to the shoulder. For several
moments Briggs stood there, as though trying to get his balance. Perhaps
his disordered brain caused him to forget what was going on for a
moment. Rex had got back to his feet now, silhouetted against the light
from the fire.
Nan had heard the scuffle and was trying to see what it meant. Then
Briggs laughed harshly and started toward Rex, who began backing toward
the fire. He did not care to get caught again in those vise-like hands.
Briggs did not hurry. Perhaps he realized that Rex could not escape him,
and was playing with him. Nan uttered no sound, as the two men came into
the firelight. Rex’s shirt had been almost torn from his body, and one
cheek was bleeding from a rasping contact with the wall of the cave.
Rex glanced behind him. There was not much farther he could go. He tried
to edge to the left, but Briggs blocked him. It was only a matter of
moments before he would be caught. Suddenly he remembered the gun.
‘Nan--the gun!’ he panted. ‘Near the entrance--he dropped it, Nan!’
Briggs shifted his eyes to Nan. He was close enough to stop her if she
started. But as he shifted his eyes Rex sprang to the side of the cave,
trying to get past Briggs.
But he was not successful. As quick as a flash, Briggs reached out and
caught part of Rex’s torn sleeve. Rex tried to back away, but the cave
wall was too close. Briggs was slightly crouched, and as he yanked Rex
toward him, the young man struck with every ounce of his body in a
sweeping uppercut, which caught Briggs flush on the point of the chin.
Briggs’s head snapped back, his heel caught on a stone, and he fell flat
on his back, his head fairly bouncing from the sandstone floor.
Rex fell to his knees from the force of the blow, his right arm and hand
paralyzed for the moment, but he got to his feet and staggered out to
the entrance, where he found the gun. Nan was sitting against the wall,
crying, as he came back, and he looked at her curiously. Briggs had not
moved.
Rex picked up some scattered wood and threw it on the fire.
‘This is a better place than we were, Nan,’ he said calmly. ‘At least we
have a roof over our heads.’
She took her hands from her face and stared at him. It was such a
ridiculous thing to say after what had happened.
‘Rex, are you all right?’ she whispered.
He looked at her and grinned.
‘You’re damn right! Isn’t that what Hashknife would say?’
‘Oh, I’m glad, Rex. I--I don’t know what to say. It is all like an awful
dream. I thought you had lost your mind, too.’
‘Me?’ Rex blinked some of the blood out of his eye. ‘Perhaps I did, Nan.
I don’t remember much about it. But I was sane enough to realize that he
would kill me. I guess I missed him with the stone. I wonder if I killed
him.’
Cautiously he examined Briggs. His heart was beating, but he was
unconscious. The blow on the jaw, together with striking his head on the
stone, had given him a double knockout.
‘He’s not dead, Nan. I’m glad of that.’
‘But what will we do when he wakes up, Rex?’
‘That depends on him entirely. If he still persists in trying to be boss
of this place, I shall shoot him with his own gun.’
‘Let me see that gun, Rex.’
He handed it to her and she looked it over carefully.
‘Every cartridge has been fired,’ she said wonderingly.
‘You mean, it is of no value?’
‘Not unless he has more cartridges in his pockets.’
Briggs was wearing no belt, and a search of his pockets failed to show
any ammunition.
‘Give me the gun,’ said Rex. ‘I can bluff with it.’
‘But he must know it is empty, Rex.’
‘If he did--why was he carrying it? You try and get a little sleep, Nan;
I’ll watch him. If he wasn’t born in this cañon, there must be a way
out, and we’ll find it. That meat don’t make a very pleasant odor, does
it?’
‘He was cooking it for me,’ said Nan. ‘He said it was horse meat. He
picked it up off the dirty floor and threw it on the fire--for my
supper.’
‘He may be hungry when he wakes up,’ grinned Rex.
* * * * *
It was well after midnight when Hashknife and the sheriff reached Mesa
City. The town was in darkness, except the Oasis saloon, where they
found only Dave Morgan and Jack Fairweather, discussing business, while
the bartender rested his elbows on the bar as he perused a dog-eared
book.
Morgan welcomed the newcomers heartily.
‘C’mon and have a drink. You fellers ridin’ kinda late, ain’t yuh?’
‘Kinda,’ admitted Lem, as they lined up at the bar. ‘What’s new, Dave?’
‘Nothin’ much. I’m takin’ over this saloon, Lem.’
‘Yea-a-ah? Oh, shore. You goin’ to stay here, Jack?’
Fairweather shook his head slowly.
‘You goin’ to run this place yourself, Dave?’
‘I don’t hardly think so, Lem. May sell it after while.’
‘Where’s the boys from the 6X6?’ asked Hashknife?
‘Gone to bed, I reckon. Got pretty well loaded, all of ’em.’
‘You boys just rode in from Cañonville?’ asked Fairweather.
Lem nodded, lifting his glass.
‘Here’s how, gents.’
They drank together.
‘You goin’ to the ranch with me, Lem?’ asked Hashknife.
‘I think I’ll stay here, Hashknife. I’ll get a room at the hotel, and be
out to yore place early.’
‘All right.’
Hashknife went back to his horse, mounted and headed for the ranch,
while the three men at the bar had another drink.
‘You ain’t takin’ an after-midnight ride just for yore health, are yuh,
Lem?’ queried Morgan.
The sheriff rolled a cigarette, shaping it carefully, before replying:
‘Nan Lane and that young tenderfoot started for Cañonville late this
afternoon, and they never arrived.’
‘Never arrived? What do yuh mean, Lem?’
‘Never arrived, thasall. Her horse came back to Lane’s ranch, and
Hashknife killed it.’
‘Killed what--the horse?’
‘Shore.’
‘What for?’
‘Thought there was a man on it--the man who had just shot through the
window at them.’
‘Well, I’ll be damned!’ exploded Dave. ‘What’s this all about?’
‘Search me,’ replied Lem wearily, as he lighted his cigarette.
‘Did either of ’em get hit, Lem?’
‘No-o-o, not exactly. The bullet hit their can of milk, and the can hit
Stevens between the eyes.’
‘Can yuh imagine that? And you say that Miss Lane and the tenderfoot
never got to Cañonville?’
‘So far as we know, they never did.’
‘But where are they?’
‘Dave,’ said Lem seriously, ‘I’m no mind-reader. I dunno a damn thing
about it. I’m follerin’ Hartley, thasall. He says he’s got a hunch--and
that’s more’n I’ve got. Let’s have one more drink.’
The bartender served them and they drank silently.
‘Dave, did you ever hear Pete say anythin’ about havin’ a woman?’ asked
Lem.
‘About havin’ a woman?’
‘Yeah--a wife.’
‘Where didja ever get that idea, Lem?’
‘Oh, I jist wondered.’
‘Funny ideas you get, Lem. Did you ever hear of him havin’ a wife?’
‘Nope.’
‘I never did,’ said Fairweather. ‘I don’t think he ever did, unless he
was married before he came to this country.’
‘Whatever put that idea in yore mind?’
‘Oh, I dunno. Mebby it was that tenderfoot. His name’s Morgan, and he
came here tryin’ to find out who sent a check to his mother. It came
from Mesa City, he says.’
‘He’s crazy,’ laughed Dave. ‘Anyway, he’d have a hell of a time provin’
anythin’. His mother’s dead and Pete’s dead, and how in hell could he
prove anythin’? Let’s have another drink.’
‘I guess you’re right, Dave. No, thanks. I’ve had enough. Better grab a
little sleep.’
‘What does Hartley think about it, Lem?’
‘Well, he don’t say much, except when I get an idea, and then he shows
me where I’m all wrong. If I had his brains I wouldn’t be sheriff of no
damn county, I’ll tell yuh that much.’
Lem left the saloon and took his horse to the livery-stable.
Hashknife rode straight back to the ranch and stabled his horse. Sleepy
was still awake and anxious to know what Hashknife had found out; so he
came down to the stable.
‘But where can they be?’ wondered Sleepy.
‘I’m shore stuck,’ said Hashknife gloomily. ‘This is the worst danged
case I ever worked on. I can’t seem to get goin’. But, by golly, I’m--’
Hashknife hesitated. The moon was high up over the hills, illuminating
the old buildings and corrals.
Hashknife walked away from Sleepy and stopped beside the corral fence,
only a few feet away.
The Navajo rug was not on the fence.
‘It was there when we came in this evenin’,’ said Sleepy. ‘I remember
seein’ it, Hashknife.’
‘I remember it, too, Sleepy. Let’s go to bed.’
‘I used some raw meat on my eyes,’ offered Sleepy. ‘I can see clearer
than I could.’
‘I can see better now, too,’ said Hashknife, meaningly. But Sleepy did
not question him.