It was several days before Rob was able to get about as usual. His head
ached when he tried to walk and his muscles were stiff and sore.
On waking the morning after he was hurt, he asked whether Jones had
come back again. He seemed a little troubled to learn that he had not
yet returned. When the next two days passed without bringing Jones, Rob
became plainly disturbed.
"He might at least send me word if anything has gone wrong," he
declared.
"Perhaps he's gone after more colts," Harry suggested. "He's sold a
good many of those he had here, hasn't he?"
"About half of them; but he wouldn't bring in more--not now, anyhow."
"Why not?"
"Oh, because. He simply wouldn't."
Harry kept silent, for she saw that Rob did not want to say any more
about the matter. He seemed so greatly worried over Jones's absence
that she restrained her impulse to tell him about Garnett and his
sorrel horse.
On the third day Rob got up and announced that he was going to work.
"The first thing you know the cattle will be coming in round here
to feed, and if I don't get that extra strand of wire round my fence
before they get here, my critters will be up and off with the others."
Harry's heart thumped. "I might as well tell you, Bobs. The cow is gone
already."
"Hey?" Rob turned quickly and stared at her. He looked pale and thin
now that he was standing. "When did the cow get out?"
"I don't know--exactly. The day you got hurt, I guess."
"She may be in Boise by this time. Did the heifers go, too?"
"No, they are all here."
"Thank goodness! Well, I'll get right out after the other beast. I've
heard Dan say a dry cow is a mean critter to keep tabs on. Put me up a
lunch, will you, sis, while I'm saddling the pony?"
"Bobs! You aren't going to start out to-day? In this hot sun?"
"The longer I wait the hotter it'll get and the farther I'll have to
ride."
"Couldn't you send one of the Robinson boys?"
"And pay him two dollars a day? They couldn't go, anyhow. The whole
family is busy irrigating and plowing for fall wheat. Don't worry, sis;
that scratch on my scalp looks worse than it feels. I may find the cow
right down along the creek."
Rob went up the glen to the pasture to get his saddle horse. He was
gone a long time and came back looking much troubled.
"I don't understand it" he said. "The gate is open up there and all the
colts are gone. My pony, too."
"Rob--who could have done it? Do you think they were stolen?"
"I don't think so. There's been no horse stealing round here since that
gang was rounded up last spring--just when you came, you remember?
No, I can't imagine what's happened unless Boykin opened the gate for
spite. Do you know when he went out?"
"The day after he attacked you. I heard the sheep crossing the meadow
in the morning when I was getting fresh water for you."
"Wait until I find Joyce! If he thinks I'm going to put up with such
work he's mistaken. I'll have to ride old Rock. What will Jones say
when he finds those colts are gone? And how can we ever round 'em up
again?"
"It isn't your fault. Why doesn't he come and take care of his own
stock?"
"Something's happened, I suppose. He wouldn't stay off like this for
nothing. I ought really to go after the colts instead of the cow."
Rob went down to the corral, and soon Harry saw him riding back, not on
Rock, but on the sorrel with the ring-and-arrow brand.
"I'd forgotten we'd left this horse down in the corral," he said,
looking much relieved. "Well, now I shan't be gone a week, as I
expected to if I rode old Rock."
Harry started to speak and then changed her mind; there could be
nothing wrong in Jones's secrets about the horses if Rob did not
disapprove of them. Doubtless there were plenty of sorrels with the
ring-and-arrow brand, and after keeping this one so long for Jones,
there could be no harm in Rob's getting some service from it.
So, instead of telling Rob about Garnett, she said, "That's a pretty
good pony, isn't it? About how old is he?"
Rob had just mounted. "About six or seven years, I should think," he
said, as he rode off.
He was gone all day, but he found neither the horses nor his cow.
"I'll go out to-morrow," he said at supper, "and stay until I find some
of these strays."
"You--you won't come back at night?"
"Probably not. Why?"
"Nothing--much. That is, I only thought you might be able to go to town
in a day or two. We need several things."
Harry twisted her fingers together and tried to control her voice. To
have Rob stay away--to leave her all alone! She stood silent, looking
up at him. She must not let him see that she was afraid, for she had
determined never to complain again.
Nevertheless, she waited almost breathlessly for him to answer.
"All right, then," he said, after a moment. "I'll come back to-morrow
night, and we'll go to town the day after."
As soon as Rob had ridden off the next morning, Harry began to put the
tent in order and to arrange for the journey to town. She prepared a
luncheon for the trip, washed a pair of overalls for Rob, got out a
clean flannel shirt for him, and sewed a button on his coat. She had by
this time learned to regard overalls as "dress-up" garments.
In the afternoon she went out to irrigate the garden. While she was
cultivating at one end, a ditch broke at the other and let the water
rush down across half the rows. She had hard work repairing the damage,
and was so busy that she lost all track of time. In fact, she did not
realize that the sun had set until a long-drawn melancholy howl from
the butte, answered suddenly by a chorus from the "scab" land, told her
that the coyotes were out for the night.
"Probably Bobs went farther than he realized," she decided, when at
nine o'clock she sat down alone to eat her supper.
At ten o'clock Rob had not yet come. What could be keeping him? Had the
pony stumbled and thrown him? Could he have had a sunstroke? Suppose he
had fainted out there alone--without water----
Resolutely Harry turned from such thoughts. He had probably lost his
way and would get home very late. She would be foolish to sit up for
him.
She undressed very slowly, listening, hoping to hear the sound of the
pony's hoofs; but soon she grew too sleepy to listen for them.
When she awoke it was broad daylight; the clock had stopped and Rob
had not come. She went to the doorway and looked all round. The same
silence, the same blaze of sunlight, the same solitude. Was it really
another day? In the unbroken quiet everything seemed at a standstill.
She did the chores and worked in the garden; but all the time she
listened. And Rob did not come.
The day passed, and another night. She slept fitfully. Several times
she thought she heard the beat of hoofs, and trembling with hope,
hurried out to look. When the third day passed without bringing Rob,
Harry knew that something had happened to him.
She sat beside the table in the evening with her head in her hand.
She wished that it were not too late to go over and talk with Mrs.
Robinson. She felt the instinct to lay her troubles upon some one else.
Then she bethought herself and crushed down the impulse. The Robinsons
were all busy with the haying. She had no right to call upon them
for help, and moreover, she would be ashamed to do it. She must help
herself. She would drive the twenty miles to Soldier, and send some one
out to look for her brother.
When her alarm clock rang the next morning she hopped resolutely out
into the chilly dawn, dressed, and got her breakfast.
No one who is used to handling horses can understand Harry's feelings
as she lifted the heavy set of harness from the peg beside Rock's stall
and dragged it over his back. She had watched her brother often as
he harnessed the team, and remembered something about the way he had
done it; but it was mostly by luck that she got the various straps into
their proper places. Her heart beat nervously as she led the horses out
of the corral and backed them up before the wagon. Suppose they should
run away? But Rock and Rye were a steady team, and stood serenely while
Harry fastened the tugs. It was only half-past seven o'clock when she
left the ranch, but she felt as if she had already done a day's work.
She drove slowly at first, afraid that something would go wrong with
the harness or that the horses would run away; but after the first few
miles her spirits rose above her worries, and by the time she reached
the Robinsons' ranch she was enjoying every moment of the ride.
As she passed the house Vashti burst from the door and, waving a
letter, ran toward her.
"You want me to post this?" Harry asked, as she pulled up the horses.
"Oh, no! It's for you," Vashti said, and thrust the envelope into
Harry's hand. "Hank Miller fetched it out from Hailey yestiddy."
"It's from Rob!" exclaimed Harry, and laughed with relief. Then, as her
eyes flew down the sheet, her face clouded. The note read:
DEAR HARRY. I'm in the jug at Hailey. It's about those horses of
Jones's. Bring that paper he gave me. It's a bill of sale. I stuck
it up behind the clock on the shelf, next to the coffee grinder.
Come over with it as soon as you can. Get one of the R. boys to
tend the stock while you're gone.
ROB.
"'Tain't bad news, is it?" Vashti's voice broke Harry's dismayed
silence.
"What? O Vashti, I must go to Hailey this minute. Can one of the boys
tend the stock while I'm gone? Thanks ever so much. Which is the
shortest way to Hailey? I suppose I must go by way of Soldier?"
"No. Cross the river by the lower bridge and then strike for the pike
about Willow Creek." Vashti pointed eastward. "You'd ought to make it
before dark if you hustle."
"How far is it? I don't know the road at all."
"You don't! Say! You want to watch for the big pillar butte. It's on
the right where the road splits to go over the mountains. And say! Keep
to the east whenever you hit a fork. Where are you going?" she added,
as Harry turned the team homeward.
"I've got to go back and get a paper Rob wants."
"Say!" Vashti called after her suddenly. "Let me go for you. I can ride
over there on Geezer and back while you're gettin' turned round."
Without waiting for an answer the little girl ran to the corral, led
out the pony, flung a saddle over his back, shoved the bridle over his
ears, and came back to Harry on the run.
"Now, where's your paper?" Vashti asked. "You go on toward the bridge,"
she continued, when Harry had told her where to find the bill of sale.
"I'll come across the scab land and meet you."
With envy and admiration and gratitude in her heart Harry watched the
small figure in red calico speed away across the sagebrush.
"If I could only go like that!" she thought with a sigh. "Well, I guess
I'm not too old to learn, and if Vashti will teach me, maybe I can
teach her something she'd like to know."
She had scarcely five minutes to wait at the bridge before Vashti came
up with the precious paper. "You'll have to jack them there plugs up
some if you're goin' to make it," the little girl remarked. "Wait. I'll
get you a willer."
Slipping off her horse, she went down the bank of the river. In a
minute she returned with a long, stout willow wand. "'Tain't so good as
a blacksnake, but it'll make 'em step along some."
"Thank you, Vashti. If I do get there, it will be entirely owing to
you!" Harry's words made the small girl smile with pleasure.
"It's just as Bobs said," Harry confessed to herself. "They're as
kind-hearted and friendly as can be when you once know them, and all
the 'education' in the world isn't as valuable out here as what they
know."
As she drove along she kept thinking about the Robinsons, and of her
own life on the ranch, and of Rob's present trouble. She was so busy
with her thoughts that she did not notice the road, which meandered
across the prairies without even a tree or a butte for landmark. This
end of the prairie had never been laid off in ranches; it was too rough
and too much broken by waves of lava that had at one time poured down
through the valley. For miles there was no sign of human existence, no
fence, no house, no cattle. The girl did not realize that she ought to
be observing all the details that, in the desert, take the place of the
signposts of civilized regions. She had grown drowsy with the monotony
of the ride, but as the time passed, she glanced at the sun. It was
getting low, and the pillar butte had not yet come into view. Feeling
sure that she would see it after the next turn, she urged the horses
to a trot; then suddenly she drew a sharp breath of dismay. The road
had dipped into a small meadow sunk among the buttes, and ended. Harry
pulled up the team and stared. Before her lay a long wooden platform.
Tent pegs still stood in the ground, which was littered with camp
leavings and piles of refuse wool. It was a shearing floor. She had
taken the wrong road.
She sat still a moment, wondering what she had better do. She had no
idea how far past the right turn she had come. The best plan would
be to feed and water the horses here and then turn back. She ate her
bread and bacon and drank from the canvas bag slung beneath the wagon;
she envied 'Thello, who had promptly laid himself down in the shallow
stream that oozed from the meadow.
As she drove back, she watched ahead for the place where the road
branched, unaware that, on her way into the hills, she had passed not
one but two forks of the road.
By degrees the ridges that inclosed the flats drew nearer. Great
chimneys of lava, pillars and obelisks of red granite and blocks of
iron-stained quartz crowded the road, which curved and swerved amongst
them. Sometimes she drove beneath a threatening stone bridge; sometimes
the wagon squeezed between tilted stone slabs; sometimes it bumped over
a sharp descent of ledges. The rocks ahead took on weird, fantastic
shapes that made them look like the ruins of a fire-swept city--long
streets of toppling houses, palaces, towers, dungeons--lighted by the
flames of the westering sun.
So hideously real was it that Harry found herself listening for the
uproar of cries that would have been part of an actual fire. The
silence made it more horrible, and in that silence she began to be
afraid. She stopped the horses and sat still. She was lost.
She did not know which way to turn; once astray in this labyrinth of
rocks, she might never be able to find her way out. The horses, thirsty
and tired, stood with drooping heads. 'Thello, who lay at the roadside
softly panting, glanced inquiringly up at her.
"Yes," she said, as if answering his question, "I've got to get out of
here somehow. It's absurd. I _must_ get out."
Keeping her eyes on the road, she slowly backed the horses. The sun was
setting, and on the hard, thin soil that covered the bed rock, wagon
tracks were hard to see. Watching the faint trail fixedly, leaning
forward and urging the team on, she wound in and out among the rocks,
until gradually they became more scattered, and lost their fantastic
shapes.
When at last Harry saw the open road, she felt that the worst was
behind her; but, nevertheless, she pulled up and looked slowly about.
She was not sure in which direction she ought to turn, and she dreaded
the thought of going down the cañon alone in the dark. 'Thello pricked
up his ears, stared ahead, and growled.
"What is it, boy?" Harry asked eagerly. "Run him out!" But the dog,
growling softly, merely continued to listen.
With a sudden sharpening of her senses, Harry peered into the dusk.
Perhaps some one who could help her was passing near by. She listened
intently, with every nerve alert.
Suddenly she stood up in the wagon and screamed:
"Help! Help! Help!"
A clamor of echoes answered her ringing cries, and 'Thello challenged
them furiously. The girl stood silent. As her voice struck back
mockingly at her from barren butte and rock, she realized that she was
helpless, and lonely, and afraid. Drawing a deep breath, she shut her
hands tight. She would not give up to fear! Steadying her voice, she
put all her strength into one more call:
"Help!"
"Coming!" A man's voice answered her.
The shout echoed her cry, a rattle of hoofs swept suddenly near, and
Harry saw a horseman appear over the ridge. His figure rose and fell
in silhouette as he galloped toward her. "It's Garnett!" Harry thought
joyfully.
"Hello, what's doing?" he asked, as he pulled up. "Any one hurt? Who is
it?"
"It's Harriet Holliday. I'm lost. I got over into those queer rocks and
couldn't get out."
Garnett caught the quaver in her laugh. "Lucky I was riding through
this way," he said. "That was the city of rocks you were in. How did
you get out? Even fellows that know the country have got balled up in
there and come pretty near cashing in before they struck the trail
again."
Harry shivered. "I just made up my mind I _had_ to get out, and kept my
eyes on the wheel tracks until I found the open road again."
"You've got grit and sense, and you did well. Where are you heading for
up here alone?"
"Hailey."
"Hailey! This time of night?" He dismounted and tied his horse to the
back of the wagon; then he got into the seat beside her, took up the
reins, and whistled to the team.
"Oh, will you really drive me?" Harry sighed in relief. Every tired
muscle, every trembling nerve relaxed, and she leaned wearily back
against the wagon seat.
"I started this morning," she explained. "I took the wrong turn
somewhere. But this is the first time I've been out this way, and so
it was easy to get lost."
"The first time! And you're alone!"
"Yes, my brother's in Hailey. That's why I'm going. He's in trouble. I
don't know just what, but he sent for me to come."
Garnett made no answer, and they were both silent for some moments,
while the team jogged on. Harry was wondering whether she ought to tell
Garnett that Rob was in jail, when his voice made her start guiltily:
"Your brother been gone long?"
"Long? No; let's see. He started out after the cow--You didn't hear of
her, did you?"
"Maybe it was yours some one was telling me about."
"I wonder whether it was ours? Perhaps Rob tried to take it and got
into a squabble. And yet that isn't a bit like him."
"Was he afoot?" Garnett asked suddenly.
"Oh, no. On horseback. But it was a strange horse." She stopped.
"One of those you were telling me he was keeping?"
"Yes." In spite of herself her voice became self-conscious.
"Well, maybe some one thought it was his."
"Thought what?"
"Maybe that horse your brother was riding belonged to another fellow,
and the other fellow pinched him for stealing it."
"What nonsense!" She laughed faintly.
"It's not nonsense to the fellow that thinks his critter was stolen,"
he replied.
"Of course not. I don't mean that, I mean the idea that my brother
would steal a horse. You don't for a moment think he would, do you?"
"I don't pass judgment on people I don't know right well."
"But you know what sort of people we are. Do you think I would steal?"
"Maybe not."
Harry gasped. "You might as well say yes."
"If I saw you riding one of my horses, say, and I'd lost one, and you
couldn't tell me where you'd got it, and wouldn't give it up, perhaps
I'd think you stole it. Perhaps I'd run you into the jug until you
could tell where you got it."
"And that's what you think has happened to Rob?"
"M-h'm!" he assented.
"What?" Harry's voice rang. She drew herself erect, and in the luminous
darkness of the summer night the two in the seat of the jolting wagon
stared at each other.
"Tell me," she demanded sharply, "tell me what you know--what you
think!" And still staring at him, she waited for his reply.
"I know that your brother was riding my horse. I saw him on it."