THE LOST TRAIL
“I am going back to the round-up, then over to see Malcolm Hornby,”
announced Joe Bindloss after returning from the stable, where he had
gone to see for himself how the prisoners had escaped. “I hate the
critter, but if we stock owners don’t get together and organize to
wipe out these thieves we shan’t have any stock left by the end of
the season.”
“I’ll go with you,” offered Tom Gray.
“Sure, if you like. Pete, you and Idaho are to ride with us, leaving
the rest here to protect the ranch. We mustn’t leave the place alone
again, but there’s got to be some better protecting than there was
last night,” warned Bindloss. “I’ll bet every steer on my ranch that
if Lieutenant Wingate had been on his feet they wouldn’t have got
away—alive!”
“Tom, I am going, too,” announced Grace.
“Rough riding, girlie,” reminded Tom.
“Yes, I know. But I don’t mind. Elfreda will remain with Hippy who
will be all right if someone doesn’t fire more bullets into him. She
and Nora may be trusted to take good care of him. Perhaps Emma would
like to go, too, especially if that big cowboy Pete is to accompany
us,” added Grace laughingly.
“Come along. You won’t be satisfied unless you do,” agreed Tom. “I
will speak to Bindloss about it.”
Grace said that there was no need to do that, and suggested further
that she thought she might be of some assistance to the searchers,
but the Overland girl did not explain what she meant by her last
remark, nor did Tom think twice about it. His mind was troubled.
Emma answered the question of her joining the party before it was
asked by announcing that she was going to ride with Two-gun Pete and
Mr. Bindloss.
Arrangements were quickly made and after the situation had been
explained to Lieutenant Wingate, Nora and Emma, the rancher and
his party mounted their ponies, leaving Sierra in charge of the
ranch with another cowboy and Sam Conifer to assist him.
“Do as well as ye did last night when ye let them fellers git away
an’ ye prob’bly’ll git yer fool haid shot off,” warned Sam as Jim
swung into his saddle.
“That’s all right so long as we leave another wuss fool heah at the
ranch,” gave back Jim, and the party galloped away.
It was a hard ride, especially for Emma and Grace, but both girls
stood up under it remarkably well. Only one stop was made and that
was at a spring to water the ponies, after which the journey was
resumed. The rancher and his party reached their destination about
the middle of the afternoon, where the same scenes were being
enacted as on the previous day. Cattle were milling and bawling, and
above the roar came the calls of the cowpunchers, clear and
distinct.
The herd engaged in the milling was much smaller than before because
so many head had been cut out and sent to graze at another place,
there to be guarded by men who would see to it that they neither got
away nor were stolen, for these cattle soon were to be driven to
market.
At Bindloss’s direction, the men of the party separated and rode out
to question the cowmen about Stacy, and after every man there had
been interviewed, the searchers returned to the knoll where the
girls were awaiting them.
“He hasn’t been here since last night,” Tom informed them. “The last
seen of him was when he was riding up towards that knoll yonder
where you see the red bushes. Whether or not he came back, no one
seems to know.”
“Then he possibly rode into the mountains and got lost,” suggested
Emma. “That would be just like Stacy.”
“I wish I might believe that it was nothing worse,” answered Grace.
“What is your idea, Mr. Bindloss?”
“That’s a fair question, and I’ll give you a fair answer. It is my
hunch that the bunch that attacked the ranch is concerned in this
case too. I’m going over to see Hornby, and you folks can either
wait here for me or return to the ranch.”
Grace asked permission to accompany him, which was rather
begrudgingly granted, she thought. Emma elected to stay and watch
the herding, and more especially to watch Two-gun Pete’s antics with
his mustang and tell him he was the finest horseman in the world.
Emma had told that same thing to nearly every one of Old Joe
Bindloss’s punchers, and some day it was destined to result in a
lively man-to-man fight.
The ride to Hornby’s ranch occupied less than an hour, and Grace
observed that Bindloss hailed the log cabin where Hornby lived,
while still some little distance away. Judy answered the call and
looked her amazement when she saw who the callers were.
“Pap’s got an awful grouch on today. You’d better light out of here
hot-foot, Pap Bindloss.”
“Judy, I’m going to see your father. Where may I find him?”
“I reckon right heah! What do ye want?” The voice belonged to
Malcolm Hornby.
Grace observed the man with keen interest. Hornby was short and
wiry, his eyes keen, but revealing a vicious temper, while his face,
probably from exposure to the open, was like wrinkled parchment. Yet
he was not an old man, perhaps not more than fifty, with a quick,
nervous manner that made one feel he would be a dangerous opponent
in a fight.
“I want to talk with you, Hornby. Can we talk in private?” asked
Bindloss. “I want to talk with you about two things. The first is
about a young friend of mine named Stacy Brown who disappeared from
the round-up last night, pony and all. I want your judgment, too.
You know these hills better than I do.”
“I don’t know nothin’ ’bout it. Why do ye come heah? Ye don’t think
I stole him, do ye?” The question was put with savage emphasis.
“Don’t be foolish, Hornby. I need your advice, for I’m plumb locoed
on this business,” urged the rancher.
“Is that all ye got to say?”
“No. I have something else to say. Hornby, we’re neighbors, not very
good ones, but we’re neighbors just the same, and neighbors should
stand together. I suppose the rustlers have been at your herd as
well as mine.”
“I reckon if they keeps on I won’t have a steer on four feet left,”
growled Hornby.
“Then will you join in with me, turn your men over and make a big
drive with me to rid this part of the country of all those
critters?”
“I reckon you an’ me couldn’t hitch up fer anything. We’d be for
shootin’ each other up ’fore we’d got out of the valley. You’ve got
a rotten temper, an’ when I’m riled up I ain’t no good company
either. Who be these folks that ye say is yer friends?”
“They are my friends, and that’s all that need be said,” retorted
Bindloss with some heat, for he did not like the tone nor the
insinuation in Hornby’s reply.
While the men were talking, Grace had dismounted and she and Judy
had strolled away and engaged in earnest conversation, during which
Grace told her all that had happened at the Circle O ranch. What
Grace especially wanted to convey was that, knowing the mountains as
she did, Judy might be able to assist them in finding out what had
happened to Stacy. Judy shook her head saying that she couldn’t.
Grace closed the subject instantly and walked back to Bindloss.
“Man!” cried the owner of the Circle O. “The ruffians not only tried
to steal the ponies right out of my corral, but they shot my place
all up and hit my friend, Lieutenant Wingate. He caught two of them
and shot some others, I reckon, but the two got away later on with
the assistance of their friends. I’ve reached my limit, Hornby. The
next thing I know I’ll be killing somebody.”
“Providin’ they don’t git ye first,” leered Hornby. “I said ye had a
rotten temper, and ye’ve proved it. Nope, Joe, you an’ me can’t
hitch up nohow. I’ll run my own shebang and I reckon ye can do the
same with yours or quit. I don’t give a dad-blasted rap which ye do.
And as fer thet Lootenant friend of yours, tell him he’d better
watch out and not git too handy with thet gun o’ hissen, fer thar’s
some rough fellers in these mountains thet’d make hash of him
instanter if ever they sot eyes on him. This ain’t no place for
dudes, Joe Bindloss, an’ ye knows it as well as I do. Thet’s all I
got to say to ye.”
Malcolm Hornby turned on his heel and strode into the house,
ordering Judy to follow him. Judy, with lowered eyes, followed
obediently without another word to Grace.
“How strangely that girl acts today, Mr. Bindloss,” wondered Grace
as she mounted her mustang and trotted away with the rancher.
“Judy’s all right. The trouble is that old Hornby is wearing her
down with his ornery temper until she is ’bout ready to bust out. I
hope she doesn’t, because if she does it’ll be a bad day for Pap.”
“Has she no mother?”
“Mother died when she was a kid. That was ’bout the time I lost my
wife. But I don’t altogether understand what’s got into Judy. She’s
acting mighty queer.”
Grace nodded.
“There’s your man Jim up there,” said Bindloss, pointing to the
foothills where the Overland guide was seen working about. At
Grace’s suggestion they rode to him. “Find it?” called the rancher
as he and Grace approached.
“I thought as I had, but thar’s been so many cattle an’ so many
hosses that it’s a lost trail. The fellers say that Stacy war seen
here’bouts. If he’s smart he’s left some sort o’ trail, but I’ll be
shot if I kin find it.”
“He would not think of that,” answered Grace.
The pair rode on into the valley, both silent and thoughtful, and
for the rest of the afternoon watched the work of rounding up. Just
before dark Grace joined by Emma rode over to the foothills to see
what Jim was accomplishing. He was now nowhere to be seen. Though
Emma wanted to ride up farther into the hills, Grace decided that it
would not be prudent, for night was coming on.
They ate their supper with cowboys beside a little campfire, and
shortly after that started homeward, accompanied by Mr. Bindloss and
two of the men. Two-gun Pete was one of the party.
All were pleased to learn, on their arrival at the ranch, that Hippy
had been sitting up and was coming along. Pop Skinner too, Elfreda
said, was out of danger. Even the ranch-house had improved under the
repairs that had been made that day.
Sam Conifer they found pacing about restlessly. He was full of eager
questions about Jim, and seemed disturbed when they told him that
his partner probably had found a trail and was following it.
On the following morning, with no tidings of the old guide, Sam
asked permission to go in search of Jim. Permission was readily
granted, and Sam was soon galloping away.
Conifer did not return until the late afternoon of the next day. He
was riding hard when the Overlanders discovered him, and reeled in
his saddle as he rode up to the ranch-house.
“Somethin’s happened to Jim!” he cried. “I found whar it happened,
and then I lost the trail. They’ve got him! They’ve got him, folks!”
“Sam! Sam! You have been hurt!” cried Nora. There was blood on Sam
Conifer’s face, and the left arm hung limp at his side. Before they
could assist him, Sam essayed to dismount and pitched to the ground
in a dead faint.