JESSE TAKES A TERRIBLE REVENGE.
"Danged queer about Jess," declared Comanche Tony.
"Something sure has happened to him and I for one am going to look for
him," returned Frank.
The bandits were gathered on a broad, shelving rock looking down into
the canyon, where they had remained when Dew Drop left them after
conveying them to safety after the explosion in the cave.
Acting upon her advice they had remained there until she should have
gone to the village to learn if Jesse had been taken prisoner or
killed, perhaps, by the savages. She had promised them a speedy return,
but hours had elapsed since her departure and the men were getting
restive. Little had been said by them, they being too full of the
thoughts of the lively incidents that had happened since they first set
foot in the mountains of Southern Colorado.
"Better not try it till the moon comes up," advised Wild Bill who knew
the treacherous nature of the country where they were. "I calkerlate
you'd break yer danged neck tryin' to git out of here in the dark
without a guide. When it gits lighter we'd better all vamoose. We'll
find Jesse if we can, and if not we'll mosey over to tother side of the
gulch and make camp in a place I know of. From there we kin scout for
him. The gal said we was to stay here--"
"Sure, she did," added Texas. "I reckon she knew what she was doing.
We'd better bide here a bit I reckon."
Under their urging, Frank gave a reluctant consent, for he knew that
Jesse would expect him--would expect every one of them to come to him
at once, had they reason to believe he was in trouble.
So they waited. One hour, two hours, and three passed, and the men had
finally decided to make an investigation, provided they could discover
the trail that led up the mountain side. They had only a general idea
of where the Indian village lay, but reasoned that they could easily
locate it by the camp fires that surely would be burning. They decided
that it would be safest to start in single file, the leader holding to
the hand of the next to him, and so on, making a human chain, the last
man to at all times make sure that he had firm hold of a tree or rock.
"Hark," warned Frank after they had decided upon the direction in which
they would make their first attempt.
"What is it?" asked Tony.
"I didn't hear anything," returned Texas.
"Keep still," commanded the elder of the James boys, listening
intently. "I am sure I heard a yell."
"Mebby 'twas a cat," suggested Bill. "There's a lot of them in these
hills, and they're a danged tough proposition to run into when a
fellow's afoot."
"There it is again," cried Frank in a suppressed voice.
They all heard the cry this time and it seemed to be drawing near them.
"Indians agin," breathed Tony.
"By the great jumpin' cats," exclaimed Texas. "What do you suppose
they're up to?"
"They are chasing somebody," declared Wild Bill confidently, knowing
the ways of the savages thereabouts as he did. "The question is, who or
what is it."
"Dew Drop, mebby," suggested Harry.
"Yes, mebby the skunks have got wise to her," added Texas. "But if the
cutthroats do her dirt they'll have to reckon with me. She's been the
squarest little pard that a bunch ever come up with. She's got some
white blood in her, I'll bet my spurs on that."
The outlaws listened in awed silence as the yells grew louder,
increasing steadily in volume.
"More of 'em joined in the chase," nodded Bill. "Guess the whole
village is out on the warpath."
"And they're coming this way," asserted Frank.
"Mebby we'd a better git back in the cave," urged Texas. "We can watch
out from there."
"No, we'll stay right here," returned Frank, savagely. "We may have to
take a hand in this. Perhaps they are after Jess."
"After Jess?" replied Comanche Tony laughing sardonically. "You haven't
heard any shooting going on, have you? You don't suppose Jesse James
would let a lot of dirty Indians chase him out of their village without
potting a few of them in the meantime, do you?" he demanded.
His reasoning appealed to them.
"I guess you are right," agreed Frank. "But squeeze up closer to the
rocks. They may take it into their heads to roll a few more boulders
down on us. Bowling with hard-heads seems to be a favorite occupation
with these copper-colored curs."
"Yes, it's a heap o' fun for the chap on top, but it's hell for the
feller down below," agreed Homely Harry humorously. "Excuse me from the
job of settin' up the pins in this alley."
"Silence," commanded their leader. "We may have to do some shooting
pretty soon."
Not a word was spoken and for several minutes they waited with bated
breaths.
Every man sensed danger and every man felt instinctively that they were
on the verge of a sudden and unexpected explosion.
And, indeed, it did come, but in a manner totally unexpected by them.
There occurred a sudden rattle of fine stone from above that pelted
down on the rocks like a volley from a gatling gun.
"Crash!"
A heavy body landed in a broad-topped tree that grew out of a deep
fissure in the rocks some twenty paces to the south of them. Then
sudden silence in the tree.
Up above them they could hear the Indians chattering volubly, but so
far away were they that the outlaws could make nothing of what they
were saying, nor could any of the men have understood them if they had
heard them.
"What the--" began Texas.
Frank pushed his elbow viciously into the outlaw's ribs, to silence him.
"What do you make of that?" whispered Tony.
"Somebody's gone over the cliff. Or something has--I don't know."
"In that tree?"
"Yes. Wait till they go away up there."
For several minutes the savages continued their talking, then their
receding voices told the anxious outlaws on the ledge far below, that
they were retracing their steps.
"We must find out what's in that tree," spoke up Frank with emphasis,
after assuring himself that all the savages had left.
"Hadn't we better wait till daylight," suggested Comanche. "We'll break
our necks or worse in this blackness."
"No. That's what the redskins are going to do. At the first touch of
dawn the whole pack and parcel of them will be up on the edge of the
cliff there peering down. We've got to act now and quickly for it's
near morning."
"Yes, the dawn breaks all of a sudden up here," added Wild Bill.
But how to reach the tree was another matter. A wall of smooth
perpendicular rock lay between them and the tree whose outlines they
could only faintly make out in the darkness.
"A fly couldn't walk that," averred Harry with his usual facetiousness.
"No, we must find another way," agreed Frank.
"Anybody got any suggestions to make?"
"Not bein' a bird I don't know how I'd git over there," replied Harry.
"We might cast a lariat and the lightest of us go over," suggested
Texas.
"No, it is too far, and besides no lariat would hold us that way.
You've got to think of something better. Perhaps we can--"
"I say, I've got an idee," interrupted Wild Bill. "I remember that when
we first came out, it being lighter, I seen a shelf of rock right above
that tree. It was twenty feet wide I opine. Now if we can manage to git
up on the rock we can turn the trick."
"Now you are talking," commented their leader. "Bill supposing you make
the try for it. Be careful, and don't send any rocks rolling down or
you'll have the Indians back on us. Give the owl call if you make it
and then we'll try to follow you. Or better still, come back here and
show us the way. It will be safer."
Anxious to be off, Bill threw off his coat, tightened his belt and
disappeared in the shadows silently. With cat-like movements he
scaled the jagged side of the mountain without a sound or so much
as disturbing a particle of shale from the rocks over which he was
creeping.
To the waiting bandits down below him it seemed an age, as they stood
with strained ears to catch the signal agreed upon.
Suddenly Wild Bill appeared before them. So quietly had he approached
that not a man of them had heard or seen him. They clutched their guns
instinctively.
"It goes," was Bill's succinct summing up of the result of his trip.
"You've got to crawl. A snake couldn't get over that trail without
falling off," he concluded.
"Could you make out anything in the tree?" demanded Frank impatiently.
"Nary a thing. Blacker'n an Alabamy coon down there. And about as
slippery along the trail," he added.
"How we going to work it, Cap'n?" asked Comanche as the outlaws, with
Wild Bill in the lead, began their perilous climb over the side of the
mountain, a single misstep in which would precipitate them to the rocks
more than a hundred feet below.
"We will see when we get there. Be careful there Harry. Do you want
to pull the whole bunch of us down? Your feet are as clumsy as an
elephant's."
At last the hardy outlaws stood upon the shelving rock peering down
curiously into the dark abyss below them. It was not an inviting
outlook, but Frank was determined to learn who or what it was down
there in the tree top. After looking over the ground with a critical
eye, he told the men to braid their lariats into one single rope. This
done he tested its length by letting it down over the edge of the
cliff. It reached the tree as nearly as he could make out, then he made
an end fast around a projecting arm of rock on the ledge where they
were standing.
"Well," he demanded, "who is going down? I am not going to ask any of
you to take the risk. I would do it myself only I am afraid I shouldn't
be much good with my game leg."
"Let me take a chance at this game, Captain," urged Comanche Tony.
"No, you're too heavy," objected Frank.
"I'll try it," said Texas.
"Very well, you will do."
They bound the rope tightly about his waist. All hands took strong hold
of it and Texas sitting down on the edge of the cliff, boldly slipped
off into space.
The end of the rope had nearly been reached when a short sharp whistle
from below and a slacking off of the weight told them that he had
gained the goal and found for himself a foothold.
"Hey, up there," he called softly after several minutes of aggravating
silence.
"Yes," answered Frank quickly, lying down on his stomach and peering
over the edge. "What is it?"
"I've made the lariat fast around his waist. Pull him up then send the
rope down for me. He can't help himself--"
"Who can't--who is it--do you know him?"
"It's Jess," came the answer faintly from the dark pit below.
"Pull boys, it is Jesse," exclaimed Frank springing up more excited
than they ever had seen him before.
"Is--is he dead?" asked Comanche apprehensively.
"I don't know. Don't stop to ask questions now, but pull."
Their new burden was a dead weight and it was all the outlaws could do
to get him up to the edge, where the body awkwardly caught under the
shelf of the ledge.
"Make it fast around the rock!" commanded Frank, sharply. "Bill, you
get your arm around the rock and all join hands. All lie down."
Quickly was the human chain forged, and with Harry holding him by the
feet, Frank leaned far out over the dizzy height and exerting every
ounce of strength that he possessed pulled the body of the great bandit
over onto the rock.
"He's bound!" hissed Frank.
It was but the work of a moment to sever the thongs that held him.
The elder brother already had slipped his hand over Jesse's heart and
learned that he still lived.
"Bill where's that flask?" he demanded.
Wild Bill passed it over and a large draught was quickly forced down
the throat of the great bandit.
The result was gratifying. He began to choke and at a signal from Frank
they picked him up and carried him just within the mouth of the cave.
"Hey," hailed a voice from below. "Going to leave me down here all
night? This tree's liable to give way and send me to kingdom come."
"Pull him up," directed Frank, redoubling his efforts to bring his
brother back to consciousness.
In this he was aided by the wonderful recuperative power of his outlaw
brother. And in a few moments Jesse sat up and rubbed his eyes,
blinking in the light of the fire they had started in the cave.
"Hello, boys," he greeted. "What's happened?"
"That is what we want to know," responded Frank without the suspicion
of a smile, though the others were grinning broadly. "You fell off the
mountain, that's all we know about it. We heard the redskins hitting
the trail of some one, and the next thing you did a high dive and
landed in the tree."
At the mention of the word "redskin" Jesse's face suddenly was filled
with an expression of terrible, malignant rage. He swore a fearful
oath, and rising, rather unsteadily paced back and forth in the narrow
cave while he related all that had befallen him. Black were the faces
of the hardy band and many were the curses that the men uttered under
their breaths as they listened in strained silence.
"And I'm going back there and wipe the curs off the face of the
mountain," concluded Jesse.
Frank objected emphatically, to any such proceeding. He argued that
they all were worn out with the hardships they had been subjected to,
and to such good purpose that Jesse began to lean toward the point of
view of his men.
"Well," he began when a sudden thud outside the entrance caused him to
wheel sharply, whipping out both his "Colts" as he turned. "What in--"
The desperado chieftain sprang out and was down on his knees in a
flash. And the others followed just in time to hear him swear a
blood-thirsty oath of revenge.
Without another word he picked up the object that had fallen in front
of their hiding place and carried it into the cave. There he laid it
down, kneeling beside it with his head bent low.
"Who--," began Texas drawing near.
"Why it's--" interrupted Harry.
"By the great pizen snakes, it is."
"It's a girl," marveled Frank, bending over the inanimate body.
"Dew Drop," answered Jesse, in a strange voice of constraint.
He opened the child's mouth gently and peered within.
"The little Indian maiden's tongue has been cut out. She was then
thrown over the precipice after me," announced Jesse in a voice that
brought a chill to every human being within hearing of it.
All the great outlaw's bodily ills were forgotten now, and in the
stress of the moment his strength had come back. He was the man of iron
once more and vengeance was written in the stern lines of his face.
"What are you going to do?" demanded Frank.
Jesse pointed to the body of the child.
"There is your answer," he retorted.
"But," began his elder brother.
"Am I the master here or are you?" he demanded, an ugly glitter
flashing into his eyes.
"I'll take it back; you are right, Jess," apologized Frank.
"Any of you got any dynamite? I left some in the cave, where is it?"
"I reckon we can't git that now," grinned Tony sheepishly, "But I 'low
we can scare up a few sticks."
From various receptacles in their clothing, the desperadoes drew little
white sticks of the harmless-looking, but deadly explosive, all of
which they handed over to their chief. Next came a coil of fine copper
wire and a small compact battery.
Jesse took the collection and examined it closely.
"Good," he exclaimed.
"Are we with you in this?" asked Wild Bill. "I allow the boys would
like to pay off a little of your score," pointing to the livid marks on
his shoulders, discernible through the bandit chieftain's torn shirt.
"I reckon we would," added Comanche Tony.
Jesse looked at them steadily for a moment, the lines of his face
softening almost imperceptibly.
"No boys. This is my kettle of fish. And I'm going to fry them alone.
If I should fail to get back in an hour and you don't hear anything
doing, send Bill up to the Indian village to size things up. You will
know what to do after he gets back."
"Be careful, Jess."
"Put the little one in a hole in the rocks some where hereabouts and
block it up with stone so she can rest easy. We don't want any buzzards
nosing around her tender little body," was the great desperado's
parting injunction as he passed out from the circle of light and strode
away on his mission of death.
Very tenderly they bore the body of Dew Drop, deeper into the cave.
Finding a suitable place they laid her away, blocking the opening
as directed by their chief. Then these hardy men--these men to whom
murder was merely an incident in following their vocation of rapine and
plunder, with one accord clutched their hats from their heads and stood
bowed before the shrine of the child who had given her life to save
them.
"I reckon she war no less'n twenty-four carat fine," opined Tony,
turning away slowly.
"She war that," chorused the others solemnly, nervously crushing their
sombreros in their awkward hands, and following slowly after him.
Just within the entrance they paused and with one accord squatted down
on the hard rocks where they lighted their pipes.
Few words, were spoken, for the thought that was in the minds of all
was not one to be lightly discussed, nor could they form the sentences
to frame the thought itself.
"I reckon it's about time we heard something from Jess," suggested Tony
after a long silence.
Frank consulted his watch anxiously.
The men relapsed into silence again. But somehow the deadly stillness
seemed to get on their nerves and one by one they rose and began pacing
back and forth on the narrow platform of rock that hung over the great
canyon.
Suddenly the earth began to tremble beneath their feet.
They grasped the projecting rocks fearful that they would be thrown
over the precipice.
A great sheet of flame lighted up the sky. And a report that seemed
as if earth and sky had suddenly been rent asunder crashed on their
expectant ears, and went thundering off from mountain peak to mountain
peak.
"Get inside!" commanded Frank sharply.
They obeyed the summons in the nick of time, for in a few seconds more
a rain of rocks and debris began to shower down on the ledge in front
of them.
Comanche stepped out again, once the shower had ceased and curiously
picked up an object that had caught his eye.
He brought it within the circle of light, holding it at arm's length
and gazed at it with fascinated eyes.
What he held was a battered human head. The cruel, blood-thirsty,
malignant eyes of a savage redskin were gazing out at him from the
tangle of hair and lacerated flesh that he held in his hand.
"Bah!" exclaimed Tony in a tone of disgust as he threw the horrible
object far from him over the precipice.
Tony wiped his hand gingerly on his trousers, holding the hand up to
the light to see that no traces of his recent burden remained.
"Ugh! It makes me feel hollow under the belt," averred Harry, turning
away and knocking the ashes from his pipe.