CHAPTER XVII
DEATH PLAY
Fresh horses were saddled, and Lennon was tied on as before. His lasthope of escape went glimmering. He realized that he had missed his onechance when the party first reached the main trail, coming out of DeadHole.
To have attacked even then would have been a desperate undertaking--oneman against five. But he would have had at least a fighting chance. Nowhe was unarmed and bound, unable even to shift in the saddle.
Slade set a hot pace that fast ate up the hard miles of the returntrail. But no pony could carry his massive weight as had the horse.Before the main canon was reached, his mount began to flag. Only themost merciless of rowelling could goad the jaded beast out of a jogexcept for short spurts. In the descent to the canon the pony began tostumble badly. But Slade held him up with an iron grip on thejaw-breaking Spanish ring-bit.
The smooth canon bed was only a few yards below when, at the last sharptwist in the descent, the still air vibrated with a sibilant rattle.Slade's pony snorted and jumped sideways, leaving Lennon a clear view ofthe big diamond-back rattlesnake that lay coiled in the middle of thetrail. The gaping jaws of the angry snake and the peculiar billowing ofits body so fixed Lennon's gaze that he only half glimpsed the finalstumble of Slade's pony.
Unable to keep his footing among the loose stones of the side slope, theexhausted animal plunged headlong. Slade managed to fling himself clear,but fell prone on the sharp-edged stones. His nose was skinned and onecheek gashed. He bounded up, fairly beside himself with rage, and beganto kick the head of the fallen pony.
The luckless beast struggled to rise, got half to his feet, screamed,and fell over. Something about his hindquarters had been wrenched ortorn or broken. Slade swore furiously and jerked out his revolver tofire repeatedly into the body of the struggling beast. The fourth shotwas through the head.
At the sudden stilling of his victim's struggles, the trader's halfinsane rage cooled from its mad heat without losing any of itsvirulence. One of the Navahos had dismounted and run forward to stonethe rattlesnake. Slade uttered a guttural hissing command. Instead ofcrushing the snake, the Indian teased it with the butt of his leatherquirt.
The reptile lashed out in a vicious stroke. An instant later the Navahostraightened up with his hand gripped about the snake's neck closebehind the deadly triangular head. He gave no heed to its five-foot bodywrithing and coiling about his bare arm.
Slade swung up into the path and looked from the new prisoner to Lennonwith a glint in his pale eyes as malignant as the cold glare of thesnake.
"You're one of these here science sharps," he jeered. "We'll have youtest out if a Gila monster bite fixes a man against rattler poison."
"Rather a costly experiment for you if I prove not to be immune,"rallied Lennon. "You must have a keen interest in science so to riskyour ten thousand."
"Mebbe. It ain't much of a gamble, though. I stand to rake in twentythousand if I win, and you ain't liable to let it go as far as thebite."
"Twenty thousand?" questioned Lennon. "If you take Cochise in on thisblackmailing scheme, you will have to divide the proceeds with him. Whynot keep your bargain and earn your half of the bonus without this riskof losing all?"
The trader's eyes narrowed in crafty calculation. He looked about at thesnake and then down at the slaughtered horse. A sudden grin twisted hiscoarse mouth.
"You're right, son," he chuckled. "Why split the twenty with a dam'Apache? Ain't time now to make the Hole 'fore dark, anyhow--and here'sour rawhide. We'll try out that science experiment right here."
He signed for the man with the snake to go on down into the canon bed.The other Indians were already unsaddling the dead burro. Slade muttereda command to them in the thick indistinct intonations of their language.They at once started to flay the pony.
Slade led Lennon's mount down where the snake holder had halted beside asangre de dragon tree. One of the Indians followed and began to cutstakes from the tree. The sap of the tree was as red as blood and soastringent that when Slade dabbed a little on his cheek the wound atonce ceased to bleed.
The flayers soon came with the limp rawhide. Slade turned along thecanon to a spot where the rays of the low western sun still slanted downbetween the cliffs. He spoke again in the Navaho tongue. The Indiansdrove a stake firmly into the sand and tied the rattlesnake to it with athree-foot thong cut from the pony skin.
Lennon was now pulled from his pony and stretched out, face down, justbeyond reach of the snake. Regardless of the bandage on his hand, hisarms were jerked out sideways and fastened with yard-long thongs tostakes driven at right angles to a point a foot or so in front of hishead. From stakes set on the opposite side of the snake several linescut from the raw pony hide were flung across past the snake and bound toLennon's arms at the shoulder.
By hauling on the lines from ahead, the Indians dragged Lennon an inchat a time toward the snake. He heard the sharp ominous rattle, andtwisted his head up out of the sand to face the danger. The snake hadcoiled in front of the first stake. Though its venomous head was drawnback, the long curved fangs of the gaping jaws were less than three feetbefore Lennon's eyes.
Even as he looked up, the reptile shot forward straight at his face. Heinvoluntarily blinked. In the same instant a drop of fluid spatteredagainst his closed eyelid and he heard a soft thud in the sand closebefore his chin. A puff of dust whiffed up into his nostrils. It clottedthe dew-like drop of liquid on his eyelid.
He opened his eyes in a wide stare. The head of the big rattlesnake layflat on the sand, less than eight inches before his face. It had lashedout to the full length of the thong. Had the thong broken, or even hadits loop about the reptile's neck slipped, the poison-dripping fangsmust have lashed Lennon's face.
Intense as were the heat and dryness of the canon bed, Lennon suddenlyfelt his skin bathed in clammy sweat. For the first time in his life heknew terror. He glared into the cold, malignant eyes of the snake andsaw death, certain and horrible. Panic seized him. He writhed and dughis fingers and boot toes into the sand in a frantic attempt to workhimself back away from the hideous forward-straining reptile.
The desperate struggle was utterly futile. The lines ahead had beenstretched taut and knotted fast to their stakes. With his armsoutstretched he could get very little purchase for thrusting himselfback against the elastic pull of the rawhide ropes.
But he was no coward. Realization of his helplessness brought him theresignation of despair. With resignation came a stilling of his wildpanic. Frantic terror gave way to reasoning thought.
Had his torturer been Cochise, there might have been no room for hope.But Slade was a white man. He might prefer gold to the lust of torture.The death of his victim would mean the loss of the ransom money.Lennon's tense nerves and rigid muscles relaxed. He allowed hisupward--and backward-strained head to sink down until one cheek restedupon the hot sand. The change of position brought the top of his headvery close to the snake. But he trusted to Slade's avarice to see thathe escaped the fangs.
Slade and the Indians had been gloating upon the struggles and terror oftheir victim. At Lennon's quieting down the trader burst into a derisivelaugh.
"Sort of wilted a'ready, huh?" he jeered. "Well, you're wise to take arest while you still got time. Rawhide shrinks a whole lot when it gitsto drying. Only question is how much slower the rattler's whang strap'llshorten up than your lines."
For the first time a clear perception of the real devilishness of thetorture flashed into Lennon's abnormally active mind. He was to lieoutstretched through the long hours, without food or water, while theshrinking rawhide dragged him with frightful slowness closer and closerto those fangs of death.
The thong of the snake also would be contracting. But it was much theshorter, and therefore would shrink less. The uncertainty of how fastand how much the different fastenings would contract doubled thetorturing knowledge that the shrinking must inevitably pull him withinreach of the snake.
Physical agony would then so
on be added to the mental anguish of dread.For, once the snake's horny snout grazed the top of his head, he wouldbe forced to keep his head raised, on penalty of being pierced by thefangs if he should seek to rest.
Then was when Slade no doubt felt certain that the overstrained nervesof his victim would give way. Lennon foresaw that if worse came toworst, he must agree to terms. After holding up his head as long as hisstrength lasted, he would be forced to yield. Why not yield at once andsave all the torture?
As he asked himself the question, a grateful shadow swept down thecanon. The sun was setting. Lennon reconsidered his half-formeddecision. During the night the rawhide might continue to shrink a littlein the dry air, but the darkness and chill would quiet the snake. Itwould lie still until sunrise. Time enough to yield when yielding shouldbecome inevitable!
"If you'll pardon me, Slade," he said, "I believe I'll take a nap. Goodnight. Pleasant dreams."
Slade started to curse but ended in a derisive laugh.
"Think you'll four-flush, huh? Well, we'll see after sun-up."
He turned his back on the prisoner and walked over to where the oldNavaho was starting a fire for the inevitable flapjacks, bacon, andcoffee. The thought of food nauseated Lennon. But he would have given athousand dollars for one of the canteens of water. Regardless of a hissfrom the half-strangled snake, he laid his other cheek over on thecooling sand.
After a time Slade came with a blazing stick for torch to wish him amocking good night. Lennon smiled back at him with a show of confidence.The trader cursed but soon went off to roll in his blankets. This provedLennon's surmise that the real test would not come before morning.
He lay for a long time wide-eyed, forcing himself to consider in detailevery aspect of the situation and to calculate his chances. Beyondquestion, Slade intended to murder him. But there was first the ransommoney to be secured. Would he wait for it, as in the case of the cowmanwhom Elsie had told about? Or might he not fall into a rage and destroyhis victim as he had killed the pony?
If he could keep his temper, the probabilities were that he wouldprolong the torture until he had gained his end. After that might come ashort respite for the victim.
Lennon next recalled all he knew about snakes and their poison glands.After that he closed his eyes and relaxed both mentally and physically.The cool of nightfall had somewhat eased his thirst and the ache fromthe strain of the rawhide lines on his shoulders. He dozed off tosleep.
He was so far spent and his last thought so calm that he slept soundlyall night. But the chill damp of dewfall roused him at the first grayingof dawn. To the shivering of his cramped body from the cold was soonadded a shudder of fear and loathing. Against his head, just above theforehead, was pressed a cold hard object--the snout of the rattlesnake.
But the reptile was too torpid from the cold to strike. After a time theslight moistening of the rawhide by the dew enabled Lennon to forcehimself back nearly an inch. This was at sunrise. Slade came to gloat athis struggle.
"Go it," he mocked. "Wiggle while you can. Both them lines and therattler'll git busy soon's the sun hets up a bit. Excuse me while Ifeed. I'll git back in time for the fun."
The breakfast fire was beside a patch of thorn scrub several yards away.Lennon watched until his enemy had sat down on the sand opposite theNavahos. He then lifted his head.
The first rays of the sun had begun to warm the snake. At Lennon'smovement it stirred sluggishly. The dull eyes began to brighten with theglare of returning life and anger. Lennon dropped his head forward.
Enraged by the feigned attack, the snake struck. The long fangs came sonear their mark that Lennon felt them or the snout pass through hishair. Spurts of venom from the overcharged poison glands sprayed inagainst his scalp.
For the second time since being pegged out Lennon felt his skin goclammy with cold sweat. His flesh crept with horror. Death had grazedhim by a fraction of an inch. Another stroke might break or loosen thesnake's bond. Yet he nerved himself again and shook his head from sideto side.
The movement roused the snake to fury. It lashed out in stroke afterstroke. But the very excess of the reptile's anger quickly exhausted itsstrength. The hideous head flattened down on the sand.
A sideward glance told Lennon that his deadly play had not been heededby Slade and the Navahos. But he knew he had no time to spare. He filledhis parched mouth with sand and raised his head. The snake did not move.
Lennon blew sand into the glaring eyes of the rattler. The jaws gapedangrily. He blew all the remaining sand in between the high-curvedfangs. The snake struck viciously and sank down, inert. A film closedover the sand-filled eyes.
By pulling himself forward, Lennon gained a little relaxing of thethongs that held his arms outstretched. He drew up his knees and flunghis body up and forward. From a height of several inches his breast camedown squarely upon the head of the snake, with all the weight of hisbody in the blow.
When Slade rushed cursing from the fire, Lennon lay in what appeared tobe a swoon, with the body of the rattlesnake writhing about his head. Atthe angry bellow of the trader the Indians came running to slashLennon's bonds and jerk him away from the snake.
Slade ripped out an astounded oath.
"He's beaten the game!" he cried.
The head of the reptile had been crushed.