ON THE EDGE OF THE DESERT
Thunder Mesa was surrounded by almost impenetrable chaparrals,
impenetrable to horse and rider except along certain alleys, but not
too dense for a man on foot. These stretched away on all sides as far
as the eye could see and made the desolate prospect all the more
forbidding. It rose a sheer hundred feet into the air, its sides
smooth rock and affording no footing except a narrow, precarious ledge
which slanted up the face of the southern end, too broken and narrow
to permit of a horse ascending, but passable to a man.
The top of the mesa was about eight acres in extent and was rocky and
uneven, cut by several half-filled fissures which did not show on the
walls. Uninviting as the top might be considered it had one feature
which was uncommon, for the cataclysm of nature which had caused this
mass of rock to tower above the plain had given to it a spring which
bubbled out of a crack in the rock and into a basin cut by itself;
from there it flowed down the wall and into a shallow depression in
the rock below, where it made a small water hole before flowing
through the chaparrals, where it sank into the sand and became lost
half a mile from its source.
At the point where the slanting ledge met the top of the mesa was a
hut built of stones and adobe, its rear wall being part of a
projecting wall of rock. Narrow, deep loopholes had been made in the
other walls and a rough door, massive and tight fitting, closed the
small doorway. The roof, laid across cedar poles which ran from wall
to wall, was thick and flat and had a generous layer of adobe to repel
the rays of the scorching sun. Placed as it was the hut overlooked the
trail leading to it from the plain, and should it be defended by
determined men, assault by that path would be foolhardy.
On the plain around the mesa extended a belt of sparse grass, some
hundreds of feet wide at the narrowest point and nearly a mile at the
widest, over which numerous rocks and bowlders and clumps of chaparral
lay scattered. On this pasture were about three score cattle, most of
them being yearlings, but all bearing the brand HQQ and a diagonal ear
cut. These were being watched by a careless cowboy, although it was
belittling their scanty intelligence to suppose that they would leave
the water and grass, poor as the latter was, to stray off onto the
surrounding desert.
At the base of the east wall of the mesa was a rough corral of cedar
poles set on end, held together by rawhide strips, which, put on
green, tightened with the strength of steel cables when dried by the
sun. In its shadow another man watched the cattle while he worked in
a desultory way at repairing a saddle. Within the corral a man was
bending over a cow while two others held it down. Its feet were tied
and it was panting, wild-eyed and frightened. The man above it stepped
to a glowing fire a few paces away and took from it a hot iron, with
which he carefully traced over the small brand already borne by the
animal. With a final flourish he stepped back, regarding the work with
approval, and thrust the iron into the sand. Taking a knife from his
pocket he trimmed the V notch in its ear to the same slanting cut seen
on the cattle outside on the pasture. He tossed the bit of cartilage
from him, stepping back and nodding to his companions, who loosened
the ropes and leaped back, allowing the animal to escape.
Shaw, who had altered the H2 brand, turned to one of the others and
laughed heartily. "Good job, eh Manuel? Th' H2 won't know their cow
now!"
Manuel grinned. "_Si, si_; eet ees!" he cried. He was cook for the
gang, a bosom friend of Benito and Antonio, slight, cadaverous, and as
shifty-eyed as his friends. In his claw-like fingers he held a husk
cigarette, without which he was seldom seen. He spoke very little but
watched always, his eyes usually turned eastward. He seemed to be
almost as much afraid of the east as Cavalry was of the west, where
the desert lay. He ridiculed Cavalry's terror of the desert and
explained why the east was to be feared the more, for the eastern
danger rode horses and could come to them [Transcriber's note: Text
seems to be missing here in the original.] "Hope 'Tony fixes up that
line war purty soon, eh, Cavalry?" remarked Shaw, suddenly turning to
the third man in the group.
Cavalry was staring moodily towards the desert and did not hear him.
"Cavalry! Get that desert off yore mind! Do you want to go loco? Who's
going to take th' next drive an' bring back th' flour, you or
Clausen?"
"It's Clausen's turn next."
Manuel slouched away and began to climb the slanting path up the mesa.
Shaw watched him reflectively and laughed. "There he goes again. Beats
th' devil how scared he is, spending most of his time on th' lookout.
Why, he's blamed near as scared of them punchers as you are of that
skillet out yonder."
"We ain't got no kick, have we?" retorted Cavalry. "Ain't he looking
out for us at th' same time?"
"I don't know about that," Shaw replied, frowning. "I ain't got no
love for Manuel. If he saw 'em coming an' could get away he'd sneak
off without saying a word. It'd give him a chance to get away while we
held 'em."
"We'll see him go, then; there's only one way down."
"Oh, th' devil with him!" Shaw exclaimed. "What do you think of th'
chances of startin' that range war?"
"From what th' Greaser says it looks good."
"Yes. But he'll get caught some day, or night, an' pay for it with his
life."
Cavalry shrugged his shoulders. "I reckon so; but he's only a
Greaser," he said, coldly. "I'd ruther they'd get him out there than
to follow him here. If he goes, I hope it's sudden, so he won't have
time to squeal."
"He's a malignant devil, an' he hates that H2 outfit like blazes,"
replied Shaw. "An' now he's got a pizen grudge agin' th' Bar-20. He
might let his hate get th' upper hand an' start in to square things;
if he does that he'll over-reach, an' get killed."
"I reckon so; but he's clever as th' devil hisself."
"Well, if he gets too big-headed out here Hall will take care of him,
all right," Shaw laughed.
"I don't like th' Greasers he's saddled us with," Cavalry remarked.
"There's Manuel an' Benito. One of 'em is here all th' time an' close
to you, too, if you remember. Then he's going to put two or three on
th' range; why?"
"Suspects we'll steal some of his share, I reckon. An' if he gets in
trouble with us they'll be on his side. Oh, he's no fool."
"If he 'tends to business an' forgets his grudges it'll be a good
thing for us. That Bar-20 has got an awful number of cows. An' there's
th' H2, an' th' other two up north."
"We've tackled th' hardest job first--th' Bar-20," replied Shaw,
laughing. "I used to know some fellers what said that outfit couldn't
be licked. They died trying to prove themselves liars."
"Wonder how much money 'Tony totes around on him?" asked Cavalry.
"Not much; he's too wise. He's cached it somewhere. Was you reckonin'
on takin' it away from him at th' end?"
"No, no. I just wondered what he did with it."
The man at the gate looked up. "Here comes 'Tony."
Shaw and his companion rode forward to meet him.
"What's up?" cried Shaw.
"I have started th' war," Antonio replied, a cruel smile playing over
his sharp face. "They'll be fightin' purty soon."
"That's good," responded Shaw. "Tell us about it."
Antonio, with many gestures and much conceit, told of the trick he had
played on Hopalong, and he took care to lose no credit in the telling.
He passed lightly over the trouble between Doc and the Bar-20 puncher,
but intimated that he had caused it. He finished by saying: "You send
to th' same place to-morrow an' Benito'll have some cows for you.
They'll soon give us our chance, an' it'll be easy then."
"Mebby it will be easy," replied Shaw, "but that rests with you.
You've got to play yore cards plumb cautious. You've done fine so far,
but if you ain't careful you'll go to h--l in a hurry an' take us with
you. You can't fool 'em all th' time, for someday they'll get
suspicious an' swap ideas. An' when they do that it means fight for
us."
Antonio smiled and thought how easy it might be, if the outfits grew
suspicious and he learned of it in time, to discover tracks and other
things and tell Meeker he was sure there was organized rustling and
that all tracks pointed to Thunder Mesa. He could ride across the
border before any of his partners had time to confess and implicate
him. But he assured Shaw that he would be careful, adding: "No, I
won't make no mistakes. I hate 'em all too much to grow careless."
"That's just where you'll miss fire," the other rejoined. "You'll
pamper yore grouch till you forget everything else. You better be
satisfied to get square by taking their cows."
"Don't worry about that."
"All right. Here's yore money for th' last herd," he said, digging
down into his pocket and handing the Mexican some gold coins. "You
know how to get more."
Antonio took the money, considered a moment and then pocketed it,
laughing. "Good! But I mus' go back now. I won't be out here again
very soon; it's too risky. Send me my share by Benito," he called over
his shoulder as he started off.
The two rustlers watched him and Cavalry shook his head slowly. "I'm
plumb scairt he'll bungle it. If he does we'll get caught like rats in
a trap."
"If we're up there we can hold off a thousand," Shaw replied, looking
up the wall.
"Here comes Hall," announced the man at the gate.
The newcomer swept up and leaped from his hot and tired horse. "I
found them other ranches are keeping their men ridin' over th' range
an' along th' trails--I near got caught once," he reported. "We'll
have to be careful how we drives to th' construction camps."
"They'll get tired watchin' after a while," replied the leader. "'Tony
was just here."
"I don't care if he's in h--l," retorted Hall. "He'll peach on us to
save his mangy skin, one of these days."
"We've got to chance it."
"Where's Frisco?"
"Down to Eagle for grub to tide us over for a few days."
"Huh!" exclaimed Hall. "Everything considered we're goin' to fight
like th' devil out here someday. Down to Eagle!"
"We can fight!" retorted Shaw. "An' if we has to run for it, there's
th' desert."
"I'd ruther die right here fighting than on that desert," remarked
Cavalry, shuddering. "When I go I want to go quick, an' not be
tortured for 'most a week." He had an insistent and strong horror of
that gray void of sand and alkali so near at hand and so far across.
He was nervous and superstitious, and it seemed always to be calling
him. Many nights he had awakened in a cold sweat because he had
dreamed it had him, and often it was all he could do to resist going
out to it.
Shaw laughed gratingly. "You don't like it, do you?"
Hall smiled and walked towards the slanting trail.
"Why, it ain't bad," he called over his shoulder.
"It's an earthly hell!" Cavalry exclaimed. He glanced up the mesa
wall. "We can hold that till we starve, or run out of cartridges--then
what?"
"You're a calamity howler!" snapped Shaw. "That desert has wore a
saddle sore on yore nerves somethin' awful. Don't think about it so
much! It can't come to you, an' you ain't going to it," he laughed,
trying to wipe out the suggestion of fear that had been awakened in
him by the thought of the desert as a place of refuge. He had found a
wanderer, denuded of clothes, sweating blood and hopelessly mad one
day when he and Cavalry had ridden towards the desert; and the sight
of the unfortunate's dying agonies had remained with him ever since.
"We ain't going to die out here--they won't look for us where they
don't think there's any grass or water."
Fragments of Manuel's song floated down to them as they strode towards
the trail, and reassured that all would be well, their momentary
depression was banished by the courage of their hearts.
The desert lay beyond, quiet; ominous by its very silence and inertia;
a ghastly, malevolent aspect in its every hollow; patient,
illimitable, scorching; fascinating in its horrible calm, sinister,
forbidding, hellish. It had waited through centuries--and was still
waiting, like the gigantic web of the Spider of Thirst.