18
All Joan's fancies and dreams faded into obscurity, and when she wasaroused it seemed she had scarcely closed her eyes. But there was thegray gloom of dawn. Jim was shaking her gently.
"No, you weren't sleepy--it's just a mistake," he said, helping her toarise. "Now we'll get out of here."
They threaded a careful way out of the rocks, then hurried down theslope. In the grayness Joan saw the dark shape of a cabin and itresembled the one Kells had built. It disappeared. Presently when Jimled her into a road she felt sure that this cabin had been the one whereshe had been a prisoner for so long. They hurried down the road andentered the camp. There were no lights. The tents and cabins lookedstrange and gloomy. The road was empty. Not a sound broke the stillness.At the bend Joan saw a stage-coach and horses looming up in what seemedgray distance. Jim hurried her on.
They reached the stage. The horses were restive. The driver was on theseat, whip and reins in hand. Two men sat beside him with rifles acrosstheir knees. The door of the coach hung open. There were men inside, oneof whom had his head out of the window. The barrel of a rifle protrudednear him. He was talking in a low voice to a man apparently busy at thetraces.
"Hello, Cleve! You're late," said another man, evidently the agent."Climb aboard. When'll you be back?"
"I hardly know," replied Cleve, with hesitation.
"All right. Good luck to you." He closed the coach door after Joan andJim. "Let 'em go, Bill."
The stage started with a jerk. To Joan what an unearthly creak andrumble it made, disturbing the silent dawn! Jim squeezed her hand withjoy. They were on the way!
Joan and Jim had a seat to themselves. Opposite sat three men--theguard with his head half out of the window, a bearded miner who appearedstolid or drowsy, and a young man who did not look rough and robustenough for a prospector. None of the three paid any particular attentionto Joan and Jim.
The road had a decided slope down-hill, and Bill, the driver, had thefour horses on a trot. The rickety old stage appeared to be rattlingto pieces. It lurched and swayed, and sometimes jolted over rocks androots. Joan was hard put to it to keep from being bumped off the seat.She held to a brace on one side and to Jim on the other. And when thestage rolled down into the creek and thumped over boulders Joan madesure that every bone in her body would be broken. This crossing markedthe mouth of the gulch, and on the other side the road was smooth.
"We're going the way we came," whispered Jim in her ear.
This was surprising, for Joan had been sure that Bannack lay in theopposite direction. Certainly this fact was not reassuring to her.Perhaps the road turned soon.
Meanwhile the light brightened, the day broke, and the sun reddened thevalley. Then it was as light inside the coach as outside. Joan mighthave spared herself concern as to her fellow-passengers. The onlyone who noticed her was the young man, and he, after a stare and ahalf-smile, lapsed into abstraction. He looked troubled, and there wasabout him no evidence of prosperity. Jim held her hand under a fold ofthe long coat, and occasionally he spoke of something or other outsidethat caught his eye. And the stage rolled on rapidly, seemingly inpursuit of the steady roar of hoofs.
Joan imagined she recognized the brushy ravine out of which Jesse Smithhad led that day when Kells's party came upon the new road. She believedJim thought so, too, for he gripped her hand unusually hard. Beyond thatpoint Joan began to breathe more easily. There seemed no valid reasonnow why every mile should not separate them farther from the bandits,and she experienced relief.
Then the time did not drag so. She wanted to talk to Jim, yet did not,because of the other passengers. Jim himself appeared influenced bytheir absorption in themselves. Besides, the keen, ceaseless vigilanceof the guard was not without its quieting effect. Danger lurked aheadin the bends of that road. Joan remembered hearing Kells say that theBannack stage had never been properly held up by road-agents, but thatwhen he got ready for the job it would be done right. Riding grew to bemonotonous and tiresome. With the warmth of the sun came the dust andflies, and all these bothered Joan. She did not have her usual calmness,and as the miles steadily passed her nervousness increased.
The road left the valley and climbed between foot-hills and woundinto rockier country. Every dark gulch brought to Joan a trembling,breathless spell. What places for ambush! But the stage bowled on.
At last her apprehensions wore out and she permitted herself the luxuryof relaxing, of leaning back and closing her eyes. She was tired,drowsy, hot. There did not seem to be a breath of air.
Suddenly Joan's ears burst to an infernal crash of guns. She feltthe whip and sting of splinters sent flying by bullets. Harsh yellsfollowed, then the scream of a horse in agony, the stage lurching andslipping to a halt, and thunder of heavy guns overhead.
Jim yelled at her--threw her down on the seat. She felt the body of theguard sink against her knees. Then she seemed to feel, to hear throughan icy, sickening terror.
A scattering volley silenced the guns above. Then came the pound ofhoofs, the snort of frightened horses.
"Jesse Smith! Stop!" called Jim, piercingly.
"Hold on thar, Beady!" replied a hoarse voice. "Damn if it ain't JimCleve!"
"Ho, Gul!" yelled another voice, and Joan recognized it as Blicky's.
Then Jim lifted her head, drew her up. He was white with fear.
"Dear--are--you--hurt?"
"No. I'm only--scared," she replied.
Joan looked out to see bandits on foot, guns in hand, and othersmounted, all gathering near the coach. Jim opened the door, and,stepping out, bade her follow. Joan had to climb over the dead guard.The miner and the young man huddled down on their seat.
"If it ain't Jim an' Kells's girl--Dandy Dale!" ejaculated Smith."Fellers, this means somethin'.... Say, youngster, hope you ain'thurt--or the girl?"
"No. But that's not your fault," replied Cleve. "Why did you want toplug the coach full of lead?"
"This beats me," said Smith. "Kells sent you out in the stage! Butwhen he gave us the job of holdin' it up he didn't tell us you'd be inthere.... When an' where'd you leave him?"
"Sometime last night--in camp--near our cabin," replied Jim, quick asa flash. Manifestly he saw his opportunity "He left Dandy Dale with me.Told us to take the stage this morning. I expected him to be in it or tomeet us."
"Didn't you have no orders?"
"None, except to take care of the girl till he came. But he did tell mehe'd have more to say."
Smith gazed blankly from Cleve to Blicky, and then at Gulden, who cameslowly forward, his hair ruffed, his gun held low. Joan followed theglance of his great gray eyes, and she saw the stage-driver hanging deadover his seat, and the guards lying back of him. The off-side horse ofthe leaders lay dead in his traces, with his mate nosing at him.
"Who's in there?" boomed Gulden, and he thrust hand and gun in at thestage door. "Come out!"
The young man stumbled out, hands above his head, pallid and shaking, soweak he could scarcely stand.
Gulden prodded the bearded miner. "Come out here, you!"
The man appeared to be hunched forward in a heap.
"Guess he's plugged," said Smith. "But he ain't cashed. Hear himbreathe?... Heaves like a sick hoss."
Gulden reached with brawny arm and with one pull he dragged the mineroff the seat and out into the road, where he flopped with a groan.There was blood on his neck and hands. Gulden bent over him, tore at hisclothes, tore harder at something, and then, with a swing, he held alofta broad, black belt, sagging heavy with gold.
"Hah!" he boomed. It was just an exclamation, horrible to hear, but itdid not express satisfaction or exultation. He handed the gold-belt tothe grinning Budd, and turned to the young man.
"Got any gold?"
"No. I--I wasn't a miner," replied the youth huskily.
Gulden felt for a gold-belt, then slapped at his pockets. "Turn round!"ordered the giant.
"Aw, Gul let him go!" remonstrated Jesse Smith.
Blicky lai
d a restraining hand upon Gulden's broad shoulder.
"Turn round!" repeated Gulden, without the slightest sign of noticinghis colleagues.
But the youth understood and he turned a ghastly livid hue.
"For God's sake--don't murder me!" he gasped. "I had--nothing--nogold--no gun!"
Gulden spun him round like a top and pushed him forward. They went halfa dozen paces, then the youth staggered, and turning, he fell on hisknees.
"Don't--kill--me!" he entreated.
Joan, seeing Jim Cleve stiffen and crouch, thought of him even in thathorrible moment; and she gripped his arm with all her might. They mustendure.
The other bandits muttered, but none moved a hand.
Gulden thrust out the big gun. His hair bristled on his head, and hishuge frame seemed instinct with strange vibration, like some object oftremendous weight about to plunge into resistless momentum.
Even the stricken youth saw his doom. "Let--me--pray!" he begged.
Joan did not fault, but a merciful unclamping of muscle-bound rigidityclosed her eyes.
"Gul!" yelled Blicky, with passion. "I ain't a-goin' to let you killthis kid! There's no sense in it. We're spotted back in Alder Creek....Run, kid! Run!"
Then Joan opened her eyes to see the surly Gulden's arm held by Blicky,and the youth running blindly down the road. Joan's relief and joy weretremendous. But still she answered to the realizing shock of what Guldenhad meant to do. She leaned against Cleve, all within and without awhirling darkness of fire. The border wildness claimed her then. She hadthe spirit, though not the strength, to fight. She needed the sightand sound of other things to restore her equilibrium. She would havewelcomed another shock, an injury. And then she was looking down uponthe gasping miner. He was dying. Hurriedly Joan knelt beside him to lifthis head. At her call Cleve brought a canteen. But the miner could notdrink and he died with some word unspoken.
Dizzily Joan arose, and with Cleve half supporting her she backed offthe road to a seat on the bank. She saw the bandits now at business-likeaction. Blicky and Smith were cutting the horses out of their harness:Beady Jones, like a ghoul, searched the dead men; the three bandits whomJoan knew only by sight were making up a pack; Budd was standing besidethe stage with his, expectant grin; and Gulden, with the agility of thegorilla he resembled, was clambering over the top of the stage. Suddenlyfrom under the driver's seat he hauled a buckskin sack. It was small,but heavy. He threw it down to Budd, almost knocking over that bandit.Budd hugged the sack and yelled like an Indian. The other men whoopedand ran toward him. Gulden hauled out another sack. Hands to the numberof a dozen stretched clutchingly. When he threw the sack there was a madscramble. They fought, but it was only play. They were gleeful. Blickysecured the prize and he held it aloft in triumph. Assuredly he wouldhave waved it had it not been so heavy. Gulden drew out several smallsacks, which he provokingly placed on the seat in front of him. Thebandits below howled in protest. Then the giant, with his arm under theseat, his huge frame bowed, heaved powerfully upon something, andhis face turned red. He halted in his tugging to glare at his banditcomrades below. If his great cavernous eyes expressed any feeling it wasanalogous to the reluctance manifest in his posture--he regrettedthe presence of his gang. He would rather have been alone. Then withdeep-muttered curse and mighty heave he lifted out a huge buckskin sack,tied and placarded and marked.
"ONE HUNDRED POUNDS!" he boomed.
It seemed to Joan then that a band of devils surrounded the stage, allroaring at the huge, bristling demon above, who glared and bellowed downat them.
Finally Gulden stilled the tumult, which, after all, was one of frenziedjoy.
"Share and share alike!" he thundered, now black in the face. "Do youfools want to waste time here on the road, dividing up this gold?"
"What you say goes," shouted Budd.
There was no dissenting voice.
"What a stake!" ejaculated Blicky. "Gul, the boss had it figgered.Strange, though, he hasn't showed up!"
"Where'll we go?" queried Gulden. "Speak up, you men."
The unanimous selection was Cabin Gulch. Plainly Gulden did not likethis, but he was just.
"All right. Cabin Gulch it is. But nobody outside of Kells and us gets ashare in this stake."
Many willing hands made short work of preparation. Gulden insistedon packing all the gold upon his saddle, and had his will. He seemedobsessed; he never glanced at Joan. It was Jesse Smith who gave thedirections and orders. One of the stage-horses was packed. Another, witha blanket for a saddle, was given Cleve to ride. Blicky gallantly gavehis horse to Joan, shortened his stirrups to fit her, and then whistledat the ridgy back of the stage-horse he elected to ride. Gulden was in ahurry, and twice he edged off, to be halted by impatient calls. Finallythe cavalcade was ready; Jesse Smith gazed around upon the scene withthe air of a general overlooking a vanquished enemy.
"Whoever fust runs acrost this job will have blind staggers, don't youforgit thet!"
"What's Kells goin' to figger?" asked Blicky, sharply.
"Nothin' fer Kells! He wasn't in at the finish!" declared Budd.
Blicky gazed darkly at him, but made no comment.
"I tell you Blick, I can't git this all right in my head," said Smith.
"Say, ask Jim again. Mebbe, now the job's done, he can talk," suggestedBlicky.
Jim Cleve heard and appeared ready for that question.
"I don't know much more than I told you. But I can guess. Kells had thisbig shipment of gold spotted. He must have sent us in the stage for somereason. He said he'd tell me what to expect and do. But he didn't comeback. Sure he knew you'd do the job. And just as sure he expected to beon hand. He'll turn up soon."
This ruse of Jim's did not sound in the least logical or plausible toJoan, but it was readily accepted by the bandits. Apparently what theyknew of Kells's movements and plans since the break-up at Alder Creekfitted well with Cleve's suggestions.
"Come on!" boomed Gulden, from the fore. "Do you want to rot here?"
Then without so much as a backward glance at the ruin they left behindthe bandits fell into line. Jesse Smith led straight off the road intoa shallow brook and evidently meant to keep in it. Gulden followed; nextcame Beady Jones; then the three bandits with the pack-horse and theother horses; Cleve and Joan, close together, filed in here; and lastcame Budd and Blicky. It was rough, slippery traveling and the ridersspread out. Cleve, however, rode beside Joan. Once, at an opportunemoment, he leaned toward her.
"We'd better run for it at the first chance," he said, somberly.
"No!... GULDEN!" Joan had to moisten her lips to speak the monster'sname.
"He'll never think of you while he has all that gold."
Joan's intelligence grasped this, but her morbid dread, terriblyaugmented now, amounted almost to a spell. Still, despite the darknessof her mind, she had a flash of inspiration and of spirit.
"Kells is my only hope!... If he doesn't join us soon--then we'llrun!... And if we can't escape that"--Joan made a sickening gesturetoward the fore--"you must kill me before--before--"
Her voice trailed off, failing.
"I will!" he promised through locked teeth.
And then they rode on, with dark, faces bent over the muddy water andtreacherous stones.
When Jesse Smith led out of that brook it was to ride upon bare rock. Hewas not leaving any trail. Horses and riders were of no consideration.And he was a genius for picking hard ground and covering it. He neverslackened his gait, and it seemed next to impossible to keep him insight.
For Joan the ride became toil and the toil became pain. But there was norest. Smith kept mercilessly onward. Sunset and twilight and night foundthe cavalcade still moving. Then it halted just as Joan was about tosuccumb. Jim lifted her off her horse and laid her upon the grass. Shebegged for water, and she drank and drank. But she wanted no food. Therewas a heavy, dull beating in her ears, a band tight round her forehead.She was aware of the gloom, of the crackling of fires, of leapingshadows,
of the passing of men to and fro near her, and, most of all,rendering her capable of a saving shred of self-control, she was awareof Jim's constant companionship and watchfulness. Then sounds grew faroff and night became a blur.
Morning when it came seemed an age removed from that hideous night. Herhead had cleared, and but for the soreness of body and limb she wouldhave begun the day strong. There appeared little to eat and no time toprepare it. Gulden was rampant for action. Like a miser he guarded thesaddle packed with gold. This tune his comrades were as eager as he tobe on the move. All were obsessed by the presence of gold. Only one hourloomed in their consciousness--that of the hour of division. How fataland pitiful and terrible! Of what possible use or good was gold to them?
The ride began before sunrise. It started and kept on at a steadytrot. Smith led down out of the rocky slopes and fastnesses intogreen valleys. Jim Cleve, riding bareback on a lame horse, had hisdifficulties. Still he kept close beside or behind Joan all the way.They seldom spoke, and then only a word relative to this stern businessof traveling in the trail of a hard-riding bandit. Joan bore up betterthis day, as far as her mind was concerned. Physically she had allshe could do to stay in the saddle. She learned of what steel she wasactually made--what her slender frame could endure. That day's rideseemed a thousand miles long, and never to end. Yet the implacable Smithdid finally halt, and that before dark.
Camp was made near water. The bandits were a jovial lot, despite a lackof food. They talked of the morrow. All--the world--lay beyond the nextsunrise. Some renounced their pipes and sought their rest just to hurryon the day. But Gulden, tireless, sleepless, eternally vigilant, guardedthe saddle of gold and brooded over it, and seemed a somber giant carvedout of the night. And Blicky, nursing some deep and late-developedscheme, perhaps in Kells's interest or his own, kept watch over Guldenand all.
Jim cautioned Joan to rest, and importuned her and promised to watchwhile she slept.
Joan saw the stars through her shut eyelids. All the night seemed topress down and softly darken.
The sun was shining red when the cavalcade rode up Cabin Gulch. Thegrazing cattle stopped to watch and the horses pranced and whistled.There were flowers and flitting birds, and glistening dew on leaves,and a shining swift flow of water--the brightness of morning and naturesmiled in Cabin Gulch.
Well indeed Joan remembered the trail she had ridden so often. How thatclump of willow where first she had confronted Jim thrilled her now! Thepines seemed welcoming her. The gulch had a sense of home in it for her,yet it was fearful. How much had happened there! What might yet happen!
Then a clear, ringing call stirred her pulse. She glanced up the slope.Tall and straight and dark, there on the bench, with hand aloft, stoodthe bandit Kells.