II
"'She is useful to us, undoubtedly,' answered Corneuse, 'but she does us an injury by ruining us.'" --_The Elm Tree on the Mall._
The Jornada is a high desert of tableland, east of the Rio Grande.In design it is strikingly like a billiard table; forty-five milesby ninety, with mountain ranges for rail at east and west, brokenhighlands on the south, a lava bed on the north. At the middle of eachrail and at each corner, for pockets, there is a mountain passway andwater; there are peaks and landmarks for each diamond on the rail;for the center and for each spot there is a railroad station andwater--Lava, Engle and Upham. Roughly speaking there is road or trailfrom each spot to each pocket, each spot to each spot, each pocket toevery other pocket. In the center, where you put the pin at pin pool,stands Engle.
Noon of the next day found Johnny nearing Moongate Pass, a deep notchin the San Andreas Mountains; a smooth semicircle exactly filled andfitted by the rising moon, when full and seen from Engle. ThroughMoongate led the wagon road, branching at the high parks on the summitto five springs: The Bar Cross horse camp, Bear Den, Rosebud, GoodFortune, Grapevine.
Johnny drove his casualties slowly up the gentle valley. On eitherhand a black-cedared ridge climbed eastward, each to a high blackmountain at the head of the pass. Johnny gathered up what saddlehorses were in the pass and moved them along with his cripples.
At the summit he came to a great gateway country of parks and cedarmottes, gentle slopes and low rolling ridges, with wide smoothvalleys falling away to north and south; eastward rose a barrier ofred-sandstone hills. High in those red hills Johnny saw two horsemen.They drove a bunch of horses of their own; they rode swiftly down awinding backbone to intercept him. He held up his little herd; the tworiders slowed up in response. They came through a greenwood archway tothe little cove where Johnny waited. One was a boy of sixteen, BobGifford, left in charge of the horse camp; the other a tall strangerwho held up his hand in salute. Young Bob reined up with a gayflourish.
"Hello, Dinesy!" He took a swift survey of Johnny's little herd andsized up the situation. "Looks like you done signed up with the BarCross."
"Oh, _si_! Here's a list of horses Cole sent for. I don't know 'emall, so I brought along all I saw."
Bob took the scrap of paper.
"Calabaza, Jug, Silver Dick--Oh, excuse me! Mr. Hales, this is JohnnyDines. Mr. Hales is thinkin' some of buying that ornery Spot horse ofmine. Johnny, you got nigh all you need to make good your hospitallist. Now let's see. Um-m!--Twilight, Cyclone, Dynamite, Rebel, SifSam, Cigarette, Skyrocket, Straight-edge, and so forth. Um! Yourmount, that bunch? Sweet spirits of nitre! Oh, cowboy! You sure got toride!"
"Last man takes the leavings," said Johnny.
"You got 'em." Bob rolled his eyes eloquently. "I'll tell a man! Twosticks and eleven catawampouses! Well, it's your funeral. Any rush?"
"Just so I get back to Engle to-morrow night."
"Easy as silk, then. All them you ain't got here will be in to waterto-night or to-morrow morning, 'cept Bluebeard and Popcorn. They runat Puddingstone Tanks, down the canyon. You and me will go get 'emafter dinner."
"Dinner? Let's go! Got any beef, Bobby?"
"Better'n beef. Bear meat-jerked. Make hair grow on your chest. Evereat any?"
"Bear meat? Who killed a bear?"
"Me. Little Bobby. All alone. Three of 'em. Killed three in the yardthe very first morning," said little Bobby proudly. "I heard themsnuffin' and millin' round out in the water pen in the night, but Ithought it was stock. Then they come up in the house yard. Soon as itcome day I got up to drive 'em out--and behold you, they was no stock,but three whoppin' brown bears. So I fogged 'em. Killed all threebefore they could get out of the yard."
"Good Lord!" said Johnny. His face drooped to troubled lines. The manHales glanced sharply at him.
"Heap big chief me!" prattled Bobby, unnoting. "Two bully goodskins--had to shoot the last one all to rags to kill him--and twelvehundred pounds of good meat. Wah!" He turned to the stranger. "Well,Mr. Hales, do you think that little old plug of mine will suit you?"
"Oh, I reckon so. Beggars mustn't be choosers--and I sure need him.Thirty dollars, you said?"
"Wouldn't take a cent more. I'm not gougin' you. That's his price,weekdays or Sunday. He don't look much, but he ain't such a bad littlehoss."
Hales nodded. "He'll do, I guess."
"You done bought a horse!" said Bobby. "And Johnny, he's got a mountto make him a rep--if they don't spill him." He broke into rollickingsong:
_They picked me up and carried me in; They rubbed me down with a rolling pin. "Oh, that's the way we all begin, You're doing well," says Brown; "To-morrow morn, if you don't die, I'll give you another horse to try." "Oh, can't you let me walk?" says I----_
Here he cocked an impish eye at Dines, observed that gentleman'smournful face, and broke the song short.
"What's the matter with you now, Dinesy? You can ride 'em, of course.No trouble after you first take the edge off."
"It isn't that," said Dines sorrowfully. "I--I--you ain't a bit toblame, but--"
He stopped, embarrassed.
"What's the matter, you old fool? Spill it!"
Johnny sighed and drew in a long breath.
"I hate to name it, Bob--I do so. Hiram Yoast and Foamy White, theblamed old fools, they orter told you! They'll be all broke up aboutthis." He looked Bob square in the eye and plunged on desperately."Them bears, Bobby--Hiram and Foamy had been makin' pets of 'em.Feedin' them beef bones and such ever since last spring--had 'emplumb gentle."
"Hell and damnation!"
Johnny's eyes were candid and compassionate. "Anybody would have donejust the same, Bobby. Don't you feel too bad about it. Rotten durnedshame, though. Them bears was a bushel o' fun. Jack and Jill, the twobiggest ones, they was a leetle mite standoffish and inclined to playit safe. But the Prodigal Son, that's the least one--growed a heapsince last spring with plenty to eat that way--why, the Prodigal he'dnever met up with any man but Foamy and Hi, so he wasn't a mite leery.Regular clown, that bear. Stand up right in front of the door, andcatch biscuit and truck the boys threw to him--loll out his little redtongue and grin like a house afire. He was right comical. How he didlove molasses!"
"How come them fools didn't tell me?" demanded the crestfallen hunter,almost in tears.
"Pretty tough luck," said Hales commiseratingly. "I killed a pet deeronce. I know just how you feel."
"I don't know who's to break it to Hiram and Foamy," said Johnny,grieving. "It's goin' to hurt 'em, bad! They set a heap of store bythem bears--'special the Prodigal--poor little fellow! I feel rightbad myself, and I was only here two nights. Make it all the worse forthem, being all on account of their cussed carelessness. I can't seehow you're a bit to blame. Only I do think you might have noticed yournight horse didn't make any fuss. Usual, horses are scared stiff ofbears. But they'd got plumb used to these."
"Didn't keep up no horse that night," said Bob miserably.
"Look here!" said Hales. "What's the use of letting them other fellowsknow anything about it? Mr. Dines and me, we won't tell. This youngman can send his bearskins over east, Tularosa or somewhere, and keephis lip buttoned up. No one need be ever the wiser. Bears change theirrange whenever they get good and ready. Nobody need know but what theyjust took a notion to light out."
"Say, that's the right idea!" said Johnny, brightening. "That'll savea heap of trouble. Boys are liable to think the round-up scared 'emout--as might happen, easy. That ain't all either. That plan will notonly save Hi and Foamy a heap o' grief, but it won't be no bad thingfor Bob Gifford. I'll tell you honest, Bob--the Bar Cross will neardevil the life out of you if this thing ever gets out."
"That's good dope, kid," said Hales kindly. "No use cryin' over spiltmilk."
"Let's drop it then. I'll get rid of the bear hides."
"That's right. Talkin' about it only makes you feel bad. Forget it.Here, I'll give you som
ething else to think about. You two seem to beall right."
Hales drew rein, with a long appraising look at the younger man. Itseemed to satisfy him; he rode a little to one side, facing a woodedsugar-loaf hill in the middle of the rough gap leading east toRosebud. He waved his hand. A crackling of brush made instant answer;high above them a horseman came from cover and picked his way down thesteep hill.
"Friend of mine," explained Hales, returning. "He is sort of wateringat night, just now. No hanging matter--but he wouldn't have showed upunless I waved him the O. K. And he is sure one hungry man. It's forhim I bought the horse."
Johnny reflected a little. This was no new or startling procedure.Besides being the most lonesome spot in a thinly settled country, witha desert on each side, and with Engle, thirty miles, for nextneighbor, the horse camp had other advantages. It was situated in thePanhandle of Socorro County; a long, thin strip of rough mountain, twotownships wide and five long, with Sierra County west, Dona Ana to thesouth, Lincoln and Otero on the east; a convenient juxtaposition incertain contingencies. Many gentlemen came uncommunicative to thehorse camp and departed unquestioned. In such case the tradition ofhospitality required the host to ride afield against the parting time;so being enabled to say truly that he knew not the direction of hisguest's departure. Word was passed on; the Panhandle became well andwidely known; we all know what the lame dog did to the doctor.
But Johnny rubbed his nose. This thing had been done with needlessostentation; and Johnny did not like Mr. Hales' face. It was a furtiveface; the angles of the eyes did not quite match, so that the eyesseemed to keep watch of each other; moreover, they were squinchedlittle eyes, and set too close to the nose; the nose was too thin andwas pinched to a covert sneer, aided therein by a sullen mouth underheavy mustaches. Altogether Mr. Hales did not look like a manovergiven to trustfulness. Johnny did not see any reason why Mr.Hales' friend should not have ridden in later and with more reticence;so he set himself to watch for such reason.
"My friend, Mr. Smith," announced Hales, as Mr. Smith joined them. Mr.Smith, like the others, wore belt and six-shooter; also, a rifle wasstrapped under his knee. He was a short and heavy-set man, singularlycarefree of appearance, and he now inquired with great earnestness:"Anybody mention grub?"
"Sure," said Bobby. "Let's drift! Only a mile or so."
_We all went to the ranch next day; Brown augured me most all the way; He said cowpunching was only play, There was no work at all. "All you have to do is ride, It's just like drifting with the tide----" Lord have mercy, how he lied! He had a most horrible gall!_
The walling hills were higher now. The canyon fell away swiftly todownward plunge, gravel between cut banks. Just above the horse campit made a sharp double-S curve. Riding across a short cut of shoulder,Bob, in the lead, held up a hand to check the others. He rode up on alittle platform to the right, from which, as pedestal, rose a greathill of red sandstone, square-topped and incredibly steep. Bobby wavedhis hat; a man on foot appeared on the crest of the red hill andzigzagged down the steeps. He wore a steeple-crowned hat and hecarried a long rifle in the crook of his arm.
Johnny's eyes widened. He exchanged a glance with Hales; and heobserved that Smith and Hales did not look at each other. Yet theyhad--so Johnny thought--one brief glance coming to them, under thecircumstances.
Hales pitched his voice low.
"You was lying about them bears, of course?"
"Got to keep boys in their place," said Johnny in the same guardedundertone. "If them bears had really been pets do you suppose I'd everhave opened my head about it?"
"It went down easy." Hales grinned his admiration. "You taken onechance though--about his night horse."
"Not being scared, you mean? Well, he hasn't mentioned any horsehaving a fit. And I reckoned maybe he hadn't kept up any night horse.Really nothing much for him to do. Except cooking."
"He does seem to have a right smart of company," agreed Hales.
Bob returned with the last comer--a gaunt, brown man with a gift forsilence.
"My friend, Mr. Jones," Bob explained gravely. "He stakes his horseon that hilltop. Bully grass there. And quiet. He likes quiet. Hedoesn't care for strangers a-tall--not unless I stand good for 'em."
The camp--a single room, some fourteen feet by eighteen, flat roofed,made of stone with a soapstone fireplace--was built in a fenced yardon a little low red flat, looped about by the canyon, pleasant withshady cedars, overhung by a red and mighty mountain at the back, facedby a mightier mountain of white limestone. The spring gushed out atthe contact of red and white.
The bunch of saddle horses was shut up in the water pen. Preparationfor dinner went forward merrily, not without favorable comment fromMr. Smith for Bob's three bearskins, a proud carpet on the floor. Mr.Jones had seen them before; Hales and Johnny kept honorable silence onthat theme. Hales and Mr. Smith set a good example by removing beltand gun; an example followed by Bob, but by neither Johnny nor Mr.Jones. The latter gentleman indeed had leaned his rifle in the cornerbeyond the table. But while the discussion of bearskins was mostanimated, Johnny caught Mr. Jones' eye, and arched a brow. Johnnynext took occasion to roll his own eye slowly at the unconsciousbacks of Mr. Hales and Mr. Smith--and then transferred his gaze, verypointedly, to the long rifle in the corner. Shortly after, Mr. Jonesrose and took a seat behind the table, with the long rifle at hisright hand.
"Well, Mr. Bob," said Hales when dinner was over, "here's your thirtydollars. You give Smith a bill of sale and get your pardner to witnessit. Me, I'm telling you good-by. I'm due to lead Smith's discard ponyabout forty mile north to-night, and set him loose about daylight--upnear the White Oaks stage road. Thank'ee kindly. Good-by, all!"
"Wait a minute, Toad," said Smith briskly. "I'll catch up my newcayuse and side you a little ways. Stake him out in good grass, somequiet place--like my pardner here." He grinned at Mr. Jones, whosmiled, attentive. "I'll hang my saddle in a tree and hoof it backabout dark. Safe enough here--all good fellows. And I sure like thatbear meat. To say nothing of being full up of myself for society."
"We'll do the dishes," said Johnny. "Bob, you rope me up the gentlestof my hyenas and we'll slip down to Puddingstone presently."
"Well, good luck to you, Mr. Dines," said Hales at the door.
"So long."
"That horse you've got staked out, Mr. Jones," said Johnny, when theothers were catching horses, "how about him? I've got a private horseout in the water pen. Shall we swap? Saddles too? You're a little thebiggest, but you can let out my stirrups a notch, and I can take up anotch in yours, up on that pinnacle when I go for my new horse andcome back--about dark. That way, you might ride down the canyon withBob. I think maybe--if it was important--Bob might not find the horseshe wants, and might lay out to-night. And you might tell him you wascoming back to camp. But you can always change your mind, you know.'All you have to do is ride.'"
"This is right clever of you, young man," said Jones slowly.
"It sure is. Your saddle any good?"
"Better'n yours. Enough better to make up for the difference inhosses, unless yours is a jo-darter. My hoss is tired."
"He'll have all fall to rest up. We'd better trade hats, too. Somebodymight be watchin' from the hills."
"Them fellows?" Jones motioned toward the water pen with the plate hewas drying.
"Scouts, I guess. Decoy ducks. More men close, I judge. Acted like it.You ought to know."
"It ain't noways customary to send two men after me," said Jones.
Johnny nodded. "You don't know about Smithy yet. Let me wise you up."He outlined the trustfulness of Smithy. "So he was all labeled up foran outlaw, like a sandwich man. Putting one over on Bobby--him being aboy. Bobby fell for it. And me, just a big kid myself, what show did Ihave with two big grown men smooth as all that? So they fooled me,too. Smithy said 'Toad' once--notice? Toad Hales. I've heard of ToadHales. Socorro way. Big mitt man, once. Skunk--but no fighting fool.Out for the dollar."
"He sees some several. You're takin' right smart of a chance, youngfellow."
"I guess I've got a right to swap horses if I want to. Hark! They'reridin' up the canyon."
"Well, suh, I'm right obliged to you, and that's a fact."
"I'm not doing this for you exactly. I'm protectin' the Bar Cross. Andthat's funny, too," said Johnny. "I've just barely signed up with theoutfit, and right off things begin to take place in great lumps andgobs. More action in two days than I've seen before in two years.Here's how I look at it: If anyone sees fit to ride up on you andgather you on the square I've got nothing to say. But I hold no candleto treachery. You're here under trust. I owe it to the Bar Cross--andto you--that you leave here no worse off than you came. I don't knowwhat you've done. If it's mean enough, I may owe it to Johnny Dinesto go after you myself later on. But you go safe from here first.That's my job."
"And I'll bet you'd sure come a-snuffin'. I judge you're a right whiteman, suh! But it's not so mean as all that, this time. Not even a caseof 'alive or dead.' Just 'for arrest and conviction.' So I guessyou'll be reasonably safe on the hillside. No money in killing you, orme, or whoever brings my hoss off of that hill. And they'll becounting on gathering you in easy--asleep here, likely."
"That's the way I figured it--that last."
"But how'll you square yourself with the sheriff?"
"I'll contrive to make strap and buckle meet some way. Man dear, I'vegot to!"
"Well, then--I owe you a day in harvest. Good-by, suh. Jones, he pullshis freight."
* * * * *
Johnny brought his new horse and saddle down from the red hill,unmolested. He cut out what horses he wanted to keep in the brandingpen; turned the others loose, his new acquisition with them; andstarted supper. Mr. Smith joined him at dark; but the horse huntersdid not get back. Supper followed, then seven-up and conversation.Johnny fretted over the non-return of Gifford.
"He talked as if he knew right where to lay his hand on them horses,"he complained. "Wish I had gone myself. Now in the morning I'll haveto be out of here at daylight. That bunch I got in the pen, I got totake them out to grass, and wait till Bob comes--if the blame littlefool sleeps out to-night."
"Oh, he'll be in purty quick, likely."
"I don't know," said Johnny dejectedly. "I had to-morrow all figuredout like a timetable, and here it's all gummed up. Listen. What's thatin the yard--crunchin'? Varmints, likely. When I was here last we usedto throw out beef bones, and of nights we'd shoot through the doorwayat the noise. We got eight skunks and three coyotes and a fox and atub. Guess I'll try a shot now." He picked up his revolver and cockedit.
"Hello, the house!" said a hurried voice outside.
"Why, it's a man!" said Johnny. He turned his gun upon Mr. Smith."One word and you're done," he whispered. His eye was convincing.Smith petrified. Johnny raised his voice. "Hello, outside! You comenear getting shot for a skunk! If you want supper and shelter sayplease and walk out loud like a man. I don't like your pussy-footways."
"Come out of there--one at a time--hands up!" said the voice. "We'vegot you surrounded. You can't get away!"
"On the contrary, we are behind thick walls, and you can get away ifyou're right quick and immediate," said Johnny. "Inside of a minuteI'm going to empty a rifle out there on general principles. This is aBar Cross house. I am a Bar Cross man, where I belong, followingorders. Half a minute more!"
"You fool! This is the sheriff's posse!"
"I hear you say it."
"I am the sheriff of Socorro County," said another voice, "and Isummon you to surrender."
"I am a Bar Cross man in a Bar Cross house," repeated Johnny. "Ifyou're the sheriff, walk in that door on your hind legs, with yourhands up, and let us have a look at you."
"That's Johnny Dines talking!" said a third voice. "Hello, Dines! Thisis me, Bill Fewell! Say, this is the sheriff and his posse all right!Don't you get in wrong."
"One man may unbuckle his belt and back in at that door, hands up. Ifyou can show any papers for me, I surrender. While I give 'em thequick look, the man that comes in is a hostage with my gun between hisshoulder blades. If he takes his hands down or anybody tries any funnybusiness, I'll make a sieve of him. Step lively!"
"Dines, you fool," bawled the sheriff, "I got nothing against you. ButI've got a warrant for that man in there with you, and I'm going tohave him."
"Oh!" A moment's silence. Then said Johnny, in an injured voice: "Youmight ha' said so before. I've got him covered and I've taken his gun.So now I've got one gun for him and one for the hostage. Send in oneman walking backward, hands up, warrant in his belt--and let him stopright in the door! No mistakes. If the warrant is right you get yourman. Any reward?"
"He's a stiff-necked piece," said Fewell. "But he'll do just what hesays. Here, give me your warrant. He won't hurt me--if you fellowshold steady. If you don't, you've murdered me, that's all. Hey, Dines!You stubborn long-eared Missouri mule, I'm coming, as perinstructions--me, Bill Fewell. You be careful!"
He backed up and stood framed in the open door against the lamplight.Johnny's hand flickered out and snatched the warrant.
"Why, sheriff, this seems to be all right. Only he gave me a differentname. But then, he naturally would. Why, this warrant is allshipshape. Hope I get some of that reward. Here's your man, and hereare my guns." He appeared at the door and tossed his guns down. Thesheriff crowded by, and broke into a bellow of rage.
"You fool! You blundering idiot! This is one of my posse!"
"What?" Johnny's jaw dropped in pained surprise. "He's a liar, then.He told me he was an outlaw. Don't blame me!"
"You hell-sent half-wit! Where's that other man--Jones?"
"Oh, him? He's down the canyon, sir. He went with Bob after horses. Hehasn't got back yet, sir."
"Dines, you scoundrel! Are you trying to make a fool out of me?"
"Oh, no, sir! Impossible. Not at all, sir. If you and your posse willtake cover, sir, I'll capture him for you when he comes back, just asI did this one, sir. We are always glad to use the Bar Cross house asa trap and the Bar Cross grub for bait. As you see, sir."
"Damn you, Dines, that man isn't coming back!"
Johnny considered this for a little. Then he looked up with innocenteyes.
"Perhaps you are right, sir," he said thoughtfully.
* * * * *
Long since, the floods have washed out the Bar Cross horse camp, tornaway pens and flat and house, leaving from hill to hill a desolatewash of gravel and boulders--so that no man may say where that poorroom stood. Yet youth housed there and hope, honor and courage andloyalty; there are those who are glad it shall shelter no meanerthing.