CHAPTER XI
DESERT LAW
Away out in the night of stars and silence plodded the patient burro,and beside him shuffled Overland Red and Billy Winthrop.
"We'll fool 'em," said Overland. "Keep joggin'. We'll be over the rangebefore mornin'. Then let 'em find us."
Winthrop, staggering along, felt his moral stamina crumbling within him."I don't know--about that. Perhaps I'll be a drag to the expedition. I'mpretty tired."
Overland, experienced in the remorse that follows liquor on an emptystomach, swore vigorously and picturesquely. "You'll stick! Do yousuppose I'd shake you now after you overcomin' a genuine nickel-plateddesert constable? Nix. That ain't my style. You believed me when I saidI was comin' to this particular town. It's worth somethin' to have afella around that believes a fella once in a while. But what I want toknow is, why you done up the constable so offhand like, not knowin'whether I'd show up here or not?"
"Why?" And Winthrop smiled wanly. "Because I'm a perfectly harmlesslittle old tenderfoot." And his voice caught as he tried to laugh.
An hour of plodding through the dusk, two hours, and they were at awater-hole near the northern hills. Overland unroped one of the packs,made a fire, and presently had some hot coffee for his companion, whowas pretty well used up. Nature was taking inexorable toll for hisconquest of the constable.
"You take it easy and don't worry," said Overland.
Winthrop raised on his elbow and gazed at the tiny fire. "Tiger, tigerburning bright!" he quoted.
"This here coffee'll fix you right," responded Overland Red, grinning."Didn't know I was a pote, did you? Now if I was a doc, I'd give you ashot in the arm that would put you to sleep. Seein' I ain't, it's coffeefor yours."
"Do you think they will follow us?" Winthrop asked presently.
"As sure as snakes," said Overland. "And this here water-hole is thefirst place they'll strike for. They'll wait till mornin' to find ourtrail."
"When they do find it?"
"I'll show 'em a Mexican trick with a hole in it. You go to sleep,pardner."
* * * * *
The moon rolled down to the rim of the world. The infinitesimalmountain peaks rose slowly along the lower edge of the flat silvershield, black and growing bolder in outline and size as they blottedhalf, three quarters, finally all of the burnished radiance. Then alongthe edge of the far range ran an instant delicate light, a light thatmelted into space and was gone, leaving a palpitating glory of myriadsummer stars.
The little fire died down. The barren outland wastes slumbered in thecharitable dusk of night.
Overland, cross-legged on his blanket, smoked moodily. His thoughtsdrifted out on the tide of silence to Moonstone Canon and Collie and theRose Girl, Louise Lacharme. For them he planned impossibly. Of them hedreamed absurd dreams.
Out of the flotsam of his pondering came memories of other nights suchas this, desert nights on the border ranges of old Mexico--that lostworld of his adventurous youth. Mingled with his waking dreams were thesounds of many familiar names--Sonora, Trevino, Nueva Laredo, Nava, SanJose, Las Cruces, Nogales, Yuma, San Antonio,--each a burning ember ofmemory that glowed and faded while the music of silver strings andsinging girls pulsed rhythmically in the stillness--to break at lastinto the querulous wailing of a lone coyote. Winthrop stirred restlesslyand muttered.
All at once the tramp realized that this easygoing young Easterner,wealthy, unused to hardship, delicate of health, had his battle tofight, as well. "I've knowed 'em to get over it," reflected Overland."She's high and dry up here on the desert, and I reckon to go where it'shigher. He's game, but he's desp'rate. He's tryin' to dodge the verdict,which can't be did. Well, if excitement will help any, I guess he'sridin' the right range. If he's got to pass over, he might as well goquick. Mebby he's the best kind of a pal for this deal, after all."
Overland looked across at the muffled form. "Pardner!" he called.Winthrop did not answer.
"Well, it saves explainin'," muttered the tramp, and he rose quietly. Hegathered the few camp-utensils together, rolled his blankets, brushedsand over the embers of the fire, and groped stealthily toward theburro. He roped the pack, glancing back toward the water-holeoccasionally. Winthrop slept heavily.
"Guess I'll go back and get that gun," muttered Overland. "I might needtwo; anyway, he might wake up and plug his old friend the constablebefore he knowed it. I ain't givin' a whoop for the constable, but Idon't want to see the kid get in wrong."
Then Overland, wily and resourceful in border tactics, led the burroround the camp in a wide circle, from which he branched toward the hillsto the north. For two hours he journeyed across the starlit emptiness.Arriving at a narrow canon in the foothills, he picketed the burro. Thenhe sat down. Why not continue with his pack and provisions? He couldcamp in the fastness of the mountain country and explore it alone. Hewould run less risk of capture. Winthrop was not strong. The Easternermeant well enough, but this was the desert.
The blue of the eastern horizon grew shallower, changing to a cold thingray which warmed slowly to the straw color of tempering steel. Thetramp, watching the sky, shook his clenched fist at the dawn. "You, upthere!" he growled. "You didn't give me a square deal when I was downand out that time--in Sonora. I had to crawl to it alone. But I'll showyou that I'm bigger than you. I'm goin' back to the tenderfoot and seehim through if I swing pole-high for it."
It was light when the tramp had arrived at the water-hole. He creptbehind a sharp dip in the hummocks. The crest of his hiding-place wascovered with brush. It was a natural rifle-pit affording him seclusionand shelter.
With the sun came the faint thud of hoofs as two riders came warily upto the water-hole. One dismounted and stooped over Winthrop. The othersat his horse, silent, vigilant, saturnine.
"Say, where's your pal, that there Overland Red guy?" asked theconstable, shaking Winthrop awake and glaring at him with a bleared andbaleful eye.
The man on the horse frowned, considering, in the light of hisexperience as a successful and still living two-gun man, that suchtactics were rather crude.
The Easterner sat up, coughed and blinked in the dawn. "Where is what?Why, good-morning! You're up early." And his eye swept the empty camp.So Overland Red had deserted him, after all. He might have expected asmuch. "I haven't any 'pal,' as you can see. I'm out here studying insectlife, as I told you I would be, yesterday. You needn't shake me anymore. I'm awake. I can't say that I'm exactly pleased with my firstspecimen."
"Oh! I'm a specimen, am I? I'm a insect, hey? Well, you're crooked, andyou just talk up quick or the calaboose for yours!"
"No. I beg your pardon--but, no. You are in no condition, this morning,to talk with a gentleman. However, you are my guest. Have a cigar?"
The horseman's eyes twinkled. He admired the young Easterner'scoolness. Not so the constable.
"See here, you swindlin' tin-horn shell-shover, you cough up whereOverland Red is or there'll be somethin' doin'. You doped that boozeyesterday, but you can't throw no bluff like that to-day."
"I did what? Please talk slowly."
"You doped that booze you--"
Much to the constable's surprise he found himself sitting on Winthrop'sblankets and one of his eyes felt as though some one had begun to stitchit up quickly with coarse thread.
Winthrop, smiling serenely, nodded. "Sorry to have to do it. I know Idon't look like that kind, and I'm not, but I happen to know how."
The constable got to his feet.
"I didn't doctor the brandy, as you intimated," said Winthrop. "And youneedn't finger that belt of yours. I haven't a gun with me, and Ibelieve it is not the thing for one man to use a gun on another whenthe--er--victim happens to be unarmed."
The horseman, who had courage, admired Winthrop's attitude. He rodebetween them. "Cut it out, Hicks," he said. "You're actin' locoed. Guessyou're carryin' your load yet. I'll talk to the kid. We 're losing time.See here, stranger...."
Overland, watching and list
ening from his hiding-place, grinned as theconstable sullenly mounted his horse.
Winthrop politely but firmly declined to acknowledge that he had had acompanion. Overland was pleased and the riders were baffled by the youngman's subtle evasion of answering them directly.
"Size of it is, you're stung," said the man who had questioned Winthroplast. "He's lit out, now he's done you."
To this the Easterner made no reply.
The horsemen rode away, following the circle of burro tracks toward thehills. Winthrop watched them, wondering what had become of hiscompanion. He could hardly believe that the tramp had deserted him, yetthe evidence was pretty plain. Even his revolver was gone, and his beltand cartridges. Winthrop yawned. He was hungry. There was no food. Butthere was water. He walked toward the water-hole.
"Stand still--and listen," said a voice.
Winthrop jumped back, startled and trembling. The voice seemed to comefrom the water-hole at his feet.
"Over here--this way," the voice said.
Winthrop smiled. If it were a disembodied spirit talking, it was noother than the spirit of Overland Red. The accent was unmistakable. TheEasterner glanced round and observed a peculiar something behind thebrush edging the rise beyond the water-hole.
"It's me," said Overland, still concealed. "Thought I quit you, eh? Arethem fellas out of sight yet?"
"No. They're still in sight. They are too far to see anything, though."
"And you can see them all right, son? That don't figure out correct."
Winthrop laughed. "That's so. Where's the burro?"
"He's hid--right in plain sight up a little arroyo."
"Won't they find him, and confiscate him and the things?"
"Not on your life! 'T ain't exactly healthy, even for constables, to goround confiscatin' outfits they don't know who's connected with. Theycan't say for sure that burro and stuff is mine. They'll look it overand leave it right there."
"But why did you come all the way back here?" asked Winthrop.
"Seein' they's lots of time, I'll explain. If I had kep' on goin', theywould 'a' trailed me, and mebby got a crack at me in them hills. Theyare two to one, and they could get me at night. Now they'll either giveit up, or spot my back tracks and find me here. That's all."
"Perhaps that won't be all," ventured Winthrop, walking toward the ridgewhere Overland lay concealed.
The tramp grinned up at him. "Mebby not, pardner. You was tellin'Sweeney Orcutt back in Los Angeles that you wanted to get up against thereal thing. I reckon you bought the right ticket this trip."
"Will they--will there be any shooting?" asked the Easterner.
"Not if I can help it," replied Overland. "I borrowed your gun on thechance of it. 'Course, if they get sassy, why, they's no tellin' whatwill happen. I'm mighty touchy about some things. But listen! I'm actin'as your travelin' insurance agent, pro temperly, as the pote says, whichmeans keepin' your temper. If they do spot me, and get foolish enough tothink that I got time to listen to any arguments against my rights as afree and unbranded citizen of the big range, why, you drop and rollbehind the first sand-hill that is a foot high. After the smoke blowsaway, I'll be dee-lighted to accept your congratulations."
"I guess you mean business," said Winthrop, becoming serious. "I'm game,but isn't there any other way out of it?"
"Not for me, son. What chance would I have with the whole desert town toswear against me? They're after the gold, and they reckon to scare meinto tellin' where it is. I'm after that same gold, and I don't reckonto be bluffed off by a couple of pikers like them."
"The dark one, the man on the bay horse, seemed to be a prettycapable-looking individual," said Winthrop.
"Glad you noticed that. You're improvin'. He is a capable gent. He's aold two-gun man. Did you see how he had his guns tied down low so theywould pull quick. Nothin' fancy about him, but he's good leather. Theother one don't count."
"What shall I do when they come back?"
"You jest go to studyin' bugs or rattlesnakes or tarantulas orsomethin'. Make a bluff at it. If they ask you anything, answer 'em niceand polite, _and so I can hear_. A whole pile depends on my keepin' upwith the talk. I'll figure from what they say, or don't say."
"They seem to be turning. They've stopped. One of them is down on theground looking at something. Now he's up again. They're riding back,"said Winthrop.
"They cut my back trail," said Overland, snuggling down behind thebrush. "You go and set down by the water-hole and find a bug to study."
"Are you going to fight?"
"Not if it can be helped. Otherwise--till me wires are down and me lampsare out. She's desert law out here. They seems to be some chance for aargument about who's goin' to be judge. I'm out for the job myself. Ireckon to throw about fifteen votes--they's six in your gun and nine inthe automatic. The election is like to be interestin' and close."
"I wish I could help," said the Easterner.
"You can--by keepin' your nerve," replied Overland. Then he rolled acigarette and lay smoking and gazing at the sky. Winthrop watched theapproaching horsemen. Presently he got up and sauntered to thewater-hole.
The tramp lay curled like a snake behind the mound. He drew Winthrop'sgun from its holster and inspected it, shaking his head as he slid itback again. "She's new and will pull stiff. That means she'll throw tothe right. Well, I got the little Gat. to open up the show with."
William Stanley Winthrop, despite his resolution, found that his handstrembled and that his heart beat chokingly. He wanted to shout, to runout toward the horsemen, to do anything rather than sit stupidly silentby the water-hole.
The two riders loped up. The constable dismounted. "Nothin' doin'," hesaid, stooping to drink.
"No. Nothing doing," echoed the man on horseback.
"That," muttered Overland Red, squirming a little higher behind thebushes, "was intended for me. I know that tone. It means there's a hellof a lot doin'. Well, I'm good and ready." And he lifted both of hisred, hairy hands to the edge of the hole and both his hands were"filled."
About then the man on the pony began to ride out from the water-hole ina wide circle. The constable came from the spring. Overland noticed thathe kept Winthrop between himself and the sage on the ridge. "Thatsettles it," Overland swiftly concluded. "They're on. I'm right sad tohave to do it."
The heavy, space-blunted report of the circling horseman's gun--andOverland calmly spat out the sand that flitted across his lips. Therider had ventured a shot and had ridden behind a ridge instantly.
Winthrop exclaimed at these strange tactics.
"He seen a jack run in there," explained the constable, leering.
"This here's gettin' interestin'," mumbled Overland as the constableunholstered his gun and sauntered toward the ridge. "I got to get thegent on the cayuse. The other one don't count."
The rider had appeared from behind the ridge. Slowly Overland raisedhis right hand. Then the old fighting soul of Jack Summers, sheriff ofAbilene, rebelled. "No! Dam' if I'll ambush any white man." And heleaped to his feet. "Overland Limited!" he shouted, and with hisbattle-cry came the quick tattoo of shots. The horseman wavered, doubledup, and pitched forward to the sand.
Overland Red dropped and rolled to one side as the constable's gunboomed ineffectually. The tramp lay still.
A clatter of empty stirrups, the swish of a horse galloping past, andsilence.
Slowly the constable approached Overland's prostrate figure. "Time's upfor you!" he said, covering the tramp with his gun.
"Water!" groaned Overland.
"Water, eh? Well, crawl to it, you rat!"
Winthrop, his heart thumping wildly, followed the constable. So this wasdesert law? No word of warning or inquiry, but a hail of shots, ariderless horse,--two men stretched upon the sand and the burning sunswinging in a cloudless circle above the desolate silence.
"You seem to kind of recognize your friend now," sneered the constable.
That was too much for Winthrop's overstrung nerves. H
is pulses roared inhis ears. With a leap he seized the constable's gun and twisted at itwith both hands. There was an explosion, and Winthrop grinned savagely,still struggling. With insane strength he finally tore the gun from theother's grasp. "You're the only coward in this affair," he gasped, as helevelled the gun at the constable. That officer, reading danger inWinthrop's eye, discreetly threw up his hands.
"Good!" exclaimed Overland, sitting up suddenly. "That was risky, but itworked out all right. I had a better plan. You go set down, Billy. I'llsee this gent safe toward home."
Winthrop laughed hysterically. "Why, you--you--you're a joke!" he cried."I thought--"
"So did the little man with the pie-pan pinned on his shirt," saidOverland. "You keep his gun. I got to see how bad the other gent's hit."
An hour later the constable of the desert town led his pony toward therailroad. On the pony was his companion, with both arms bandaged. Heleaned forward brokenly, swaying and cursing. "I'll--get him, if ittakes--a thousand years," he muttered.
"I reckon it'll take all of that," growled the constable. "You can haveall you want of his game, Saunders,--I'm through."
Out by the water-hole, Overland turned to Winthrop. "I'm glad youenjoyed the performance," he said, grinning. "We've opened the pot andthe best man rakes her down. She's desert law from now to the finish."