CHAPTER XXV
RED RECKLESS ON LITTLE SAXON
"I tell you, Hume, I don't like it. It's a piece of damned highwayrobbery and I'm rotten sorry I ever got mixed up in it."
Charlie Granger, stake holder of ten thousand dollars, cut viciously atthe June grass with his riding quirt and snapped his words out bluntlyas he came striding up to Hume. The latter stood, booted and spurred,among a group of men who had travelled across ten miles of brokencountry to this, the stipulated starting place of the race in whichHume and Shandon had months ago been the sole entries. Hume carelesslygood natured, indifferent as usual, openly gratified over a bit ofsharp work, merely laughed.
"You might as well hand over the money now, Charlie," he retortedwithout turning, his steely eyes brightening as they rested upon hismount, Endymion, who was fretting at the restraint imposed upon him bythe man at his head. "The agreement took care of just such a matter asthis; if only one man rides he gets the money."
Among the knot of men upon the little, pine fringed knoll, were BigBill, Dart, MacKelvey and half a dozen of the curious from El Toyon andthe mountain ranches. Hume's retort was taken in silence. But therewas not a man who smiled or who did not think as Granger had spoken.Long ago, when it had first gone abroad that Wayne Shandon waspromoting these races, the one essential thing he had planned had beenthoroughly understood to be fair play, square dealing, straight racing.These were fair minded men, and although there was more than one amongthem who believed the fugitive guilty of the crime imputed to him,there was none who did not see the rank injustice of what was going tohappen. The feature race of the day would be stolen. And they knew atwhose instigation it was that Wayne Shandon was not here to-day.
It was early afternoon and already a number of the events had been runoff before a clamorous, enthusiastic crowd of five hundred men andwomen. The Bar L-M at the surly orders of Big Bill had been turnedinto a place breathing welcome and revelry. Tents had been pitchedunder the big pines, making a white city gay with bunting and flagsthat would accommodate many visitors during the night; tables that hadbeen constructed out in the open staggered under the load of provisionsthe wagons had brought from the nearest town; a platform for dancinglater was already the playground of laughing children and frisking dogs.
The shorter races had taken place upon the flats below the range house,down toward the bridge. Under the glowing June sun, through the crispair, with blue sky above and green grass underfoot, the contestinghorses, each ridden by its owner, had shot by the brief lived villageof tents, thundered past the platform where the judges sat, cheered andshrieked at by men and women. There had been races of half a mile, ofa mile, of two miles. And now, as the hour appointed drew close,people began to forget that they had come to a race course, and toremember that their entertainment, open handedly given, came from a manwho was a fugitive from justice and who was going to be robbed undertheir eyes of five thousand dollars. That strange thing, publicsentiment, swerved abruptly. There were many men there that day whoshook their heads and spoke in low voices, mentioning Sledge Hume'sname.
"If Shandon could be tried by a jury picked from this crowd," meditatedEdward Kinsell, "he'd go scot free in ten minutes!"
What this small group of men had to do upon the knoll ten miles fromthe Bar L-M was done perfunctorily and in gloom. Little by little, manby man, they drew away from Hume, leaving him standing alone. Theylooked at his horse, by long odds the finest animal they had seen thisday, and from Endymion they looked to his master. Now and then a quickglance went to Big Bill. He said no word. His face was black with awrath that seemed to choke him.
The starter, Dick Venable of White Rock, looked at his watch and thistime did not return it to his pocket.
"It's two minutes of one," he said, his voice snapping out hard andcurt. "This race is scheduled to start at one o'clock. All ready, Mr.Hume?"
"All ready," laughed Hume. He stepped to Endymion's head, jerked offthe halter and swung up into the saddle.
"All ready, Shandon?"
Again Hume laughed. Dick Venable waited a moment and snapped his watchshut.
"My job's to start this race if there's one man here to run it," hesaid. "Shandon isn't here. It isn't my job to express any opinions.The first horse, ridden by either Sledge Hume or Wayne Shandon, tocross that line as a start and to break the tape by the platform at theBar L-M wins the money. When I fire a gun you're off, Hume. Ready!"
The men began to turn away. Hume sat erect on his horse, coldlyindifferent to the opinion these men held of him. He moved so that heheld Endymion's restless head over the line marked by Venable's boot.
"All right, Charlie?" Venable asked of Granger.
"All right," grunted Granger. "And wrong as hell. Get it over with."
Venable raised his arm, his revolver high above his head. Thebystanders swung up to their horses' backs. Two miles away anotherlittle group of men with field glasses were upon a ridge from whichthey could see the start, from which they in turn could signal the wordto the crowd at the Bar L-M.
"Go!" said Venable listlessly.
There was a little puff of white smoke, the crack of a revolver, andHume, laughing again, struck in his spurs and rode swiftly down thelong slope. The men upon the ridge two miles off, as listless asVenable had been, ran up a big white sheet to flutter from a dead pine.This was the signal that the race was on, and that just one man wasriding.
Suddenly Willie Dart was galvanized into excited action. He ran toDick Venable, grasped him by the arm with both shaking hands, thrustingup a red face, and whispered eagerly. Venable started, stared at himand demanded sharply:
"_What's that_!"
But Dart had fled wildly to Jimmie Denbigh, the second starter and hadwhispered the same words to him. Denbigh stared as Venable had doneand then with swift, long strides returned from his horse to Venable'sside, close to the starting line.
Big Bill had mounted and was riding away, his eyes on the ground,refusing to follow the figure of a man he had come to hate mostthoroughly. MacKelvey had gone to his horse and was jerking loose itstie rope. Dart was now close to MacKelvey's side.
Venable and Denbigh, conversing swiftly in undertones, looked blanklyat each other, then at Dart's noncommittal back.
"The biggest little liar," began Venable disgustedly--
Hume was already a quarter of a mile on his way, riding on at a rockinggallop, a little eager, as was his way, to have the money waiting forhim in his possession. But suddenly he turned abruptly in his saddle.There had come to him a great shout, the clamour of men's voices.
From the fringe of trees just back of the knoll, not a hundred yardsfrom where MacKelvey and Dart stood, a great red bay horse shot fromthe thick shadows into the bright sunlight, floating mane and tall spunsilk that flashed out like shimmering gold. And the same sunlightsplashed like fire on the red, red hair of the man sitting straight inthe saddle come at this late hour to ride his race at his own meet.
"Good God, it's Red Reckless!" boomed a startled voice.
Little Saxon cleared the fallen log in his way and as men swung hastilyto their horses or drew back from before him he came on, running like agreat, gaunt greyhound. Many voices were lifted, shouting. MacKelveyheard and understood. He shoved his foot into its stirrup and as heleaped into the saddle his revolver jumped out into his hand.
"I call upon you to give yourself up!" he shouted. "Stop, Red, or Ishoot this time!"
"I call upon you to give yourself up!" he shouted."Stop, Red, or I shoot this time!"]
Dart held a trimmed branch in his hand and as MacKelvey called Dartstruck. The blow fell heavily upon the sheriff's wrist. MacKelveycursed, wheeled his horse and without heeding Dart shouted again toShandon.
Venable and Denbigh, forewarned by Dart's quick whispered words, hadtheir eyes upon Shandon. They ran to the line that marked the startand stood, one at each end of it, their eyes bright, their handspointing so that Shandon's start should
be fair. And Shandon, tossingback his head as he rode, rushed down towards them, shot between them,turned down the knoll after Hume.
The gun in MacKelvey's hand spat flame and lead. The bullet, aimedhigh, hissed above Shandon's head.
"Stop!" cried the sheriff lustily, driving his spurs into his ownhorse's sides and dashing across the line between Venable and Denbigh."By God, Red, I'll kill you!"
"Give him a chance, man!" bellowed Big Bill, his voice shaking, hisface red. "Look at that damned cur Hume."
Hume had seen and again had turned, was bending over his horse's neck,using his spurs in the first start of his surprise. The men overyonder had an inkling of what was happening and their glasses wereturned steadily upon the knoll.
Shandon without turning, laughed aloud, all the relief after months ofhiding breaking out into laughter that was utterly unlike the soundthat had come so short a time ago from Hume's contemptuous lips. Itwas a great, boyish, carefree, reckless laugh that made men wonder.
"Next time, Mac," he shouted back. "Ten to one you can't catch mebefore I beat Hume to it!"
Almost in his own words of many months ago Big Bill was mutteringsoftly,
"God! What a pair of them!"
More than a quarter of a mile away Sledge Hume, his jaws hard set, hiseyes burning ominously, was racing on, saving his horse a little now.Down the knoll drove Red Shandon, rushing on his race with a handicapin front and a revolver spitting its menace behind. Fifty yards afterhim, his face as hard as Hume's, came MacKelvey, thundering along onhis big rawboned sorrel, the sheriff whom men already criticised fornot making an arrest.
Upon the ridge where the signal men were, the levelled glasses weredropped as another square of white ran up the dead pine to carry itsword that the race was now a two man race. The fifty yards betweenMacKelvey and Shandon lengthened as Shandon was forced to put LittleSaxon to his best. For MacKelvey was shooting as he rode and he wasnot shooting for fun; there was no man in the county who wasted lesslead than its sheriff.
Suddenly the knoll was deserted. Even Willie Dart had scrambled to hishorse, even he was chasing along wildly, oblivious of the steep pitch,of a more than likely fall. To Big Bill's voice had joined othervoices, shouting to MacKelvey to give the man a chance. But MacKelveydid not listen.
They tried to push their horses between him and the man it was hissworn duty to bring into court. But MacKelvey kept to the fore,realising that they would try to do just this thing. He raised himselfin his stirrups and as his hand went up he fired for the third time.The cry that burst out after the shot was full of anger, for every onehad seen Red Shandon suddenly crumple in his saddle. But Little Saxon,running as he had never run before, toward the trees that werethickening in front of him, swerved off to the left and was lost to theeyes of the men sixty and seventy-five yards behind. There thehammering of his hoofs came back to them from the hard ground ofanother ridge.
"If you've killed him," grunted Big Bill into MacKelvey's ear as hishorse came abreast of the sheriff's, "you might as well make a clean-upand get me, too."
But in a moment they again caught sight of Little Saxon through thetrees, and they saw that Wayne Shandon was still in the saddle, sittingbolt upright, that he had shifted his reins to his right hand, that hisleft arm was swinging grotesquely at his side.
"I got him," grunted MacKelvey.
Already, with close to ten miles ahead of him, with Hume still aquarter of a mile to the fore, Wayne Shandon's face had turned white,his shirt was slowly turning red. The bullet from the heavy calibrerevolver MacKelvey used had struck in the shoulder.
"He's swerved out of his course," was MacKelvey's next thought. "He islosing ground right now. I'll cut him off before he can get to thebridge."
In the moment that the impact of the bullet made Shandon crumple andreel and clutch at his saddle horn, he went dizzy, almost blind withthe shock. In that moment Little Saxon feeling the reins drop upon hisneck, turned out to the left, striking for an open clearing. He shouldhave turned to the right as a thicket of chaparral lay in front now,and there was no turning back. So, when Shandon's right hand shut downtight upon the reins, gathering them up, there was but one thing to do,turn still further to the left, skirt the thicket, try to turn to theright again upon the further side. He was losing ground and he knewit; but it was early in the race.
"They've handicapped us, Little Saxon," he said through set teeth."But we'll show them a race yet."
Ten miles of broken country, of hard riding, and the blood was hot onthe man's side and back while every leap of his horse shot him throughwith pain. Ten miles and Endymion, Little Saxon's full brother, wouldbe half a mile ahead before the thicket was circled.
"After all Hume wins!" cursed Big Bill.
"It ain't fair! It ain't fair!" Dart's tremulous voice was shriekingfrom far in the rear. "That big boob--"
"There's ten miles of it, Little Saxon," Shandon was muttering over andover. "And the race isn't run yet. You won't let Endymion beat you,Little Saxon! You won't let Sledge Hume--"
He cut sharply through the outer edge of the thicket and Little Saxon'slean body, leaping like a greyhound's, lifted and glinted over theragged bushes. He swung to the right again, and saw MacKelvey, BigBill riding at his side, cutting across a little hollow to intercepthim. And again, with no alternative, he turned his horse out of thecourse, and kept on up the higher land to his left.
Now Hume was lost to him; MacKelvey and the others dropped out ofsight; and he was riding his race alone. He knew that Little Saxoncould stand up under all that a horse could endure; but he knew, too,that no horse that was ever foaled could keep up such a mad pace forten miles, that the gallant brute's heart would burst with five milesof it. He tightened his reins a little, forcing the horse against itswill to slacken speed.
Now he bent in the saddle, easing his body as well as he could, tryingnot to feel the pain that grew steadily in his shoulder. The lowerbranches of the trees through which he sped whipped at him and he didnot feel them. Far ahead he saw two squares of white fluttering highagainst the blue of the sky, and he knew the message that they carriedacross the miles. He thought of how he and Wanda had signalled, howshe would be at the Bar L-M with the rest, how she would understandwhat those two signals meant. For he had not told her, he had told noone but Dart who had brought Little Saxon to him last night, and who,later, had told the starters at the last moment. Shandon had realisedthat there would be danger in this mad act of his and that had sheknown beforehand Wanda would have been frightened.
Again, a mile further on, he tried to swing back into the clearedcourse that would bring him the shortest way to the bridge. Again hesaw that MacKelvey had anticipated this, and was coming close tokilling his own horse to cut him off. And, his eyes growing black, thefear of the end of the race came upon him. Had he done this wild thingfor nothing then? Was it but to be proof to the men who called himfool that fool he was? He bent his head and loosened his reins.
He knew that, far ahead of him, Sledge Hume was riding the easier way,that he was working down from the more broken rangeland, that he wassteadily nearing the bridge in the straightest line. He knew thatMacKelvey had a rifle strapped to his saddle and that long before nowthe rifle would be in MacKelvey's hands. He knew that at the end ofthe race Wanda Leland, her heart beating madly for him, was waiting.
"Can't you do it, Little Saxon?" he whispered. "For her sake, can'tyou do it?"
Mile after mile slipped away behind him, the course was half run, andhe had not come down into the road which led to the Bar L-M. He knewthat he was losing at every jump the great hearted horse made underhim; he knew that it was not Little Saxon's fault as he had never knownuntil now what speed and strength lay in that wonderful body. Who'sfault, then? Hume was beating him, Hume would be at the finishlaughing, waiting for him to come in--
"You've got to do it, Little Saxon," he cried softly, his voicepleading. "Why, we can't let Hume--"
He broke off suddenly, his eyes filling with light. He had seen theway--and it was Wanda who had shown it to him.
"Steady, Saxon," he said, his own voice steady, confident, determined."We'll do it, little horse. Let Hume beat us to the Bridge; _we'lltake the short cut_!"
From the Bar L-M grounds a faint cry went up as scores of lifted fieldglasses made out the figure of one man riding strongly toward thebridge. It was Hume, Hume alone, riding as Hume rode, well and erect.There was the hammer of Endymion's hoofs as they rattled against theheavy planking, and then--
"Look! Look! Oh, my God! Look!"
It was a woman's voice, a hysterical little woman from Reno, cryingout, terror-stricken. Her arm had shot out; her finger was pointingtoward the chasm of the river.
Then the shout that swept up about the Bar L-M was no longer faint.The voices of women were drowned in the deep roar of men's shouts.Wanda, her hands convulsively going to her breast, her face as white asdeath, moved her lips, making no sound. But her soul spoke and prayed,prayed to God not to let her mad lover do this mad thing. What was arace, what was defeat!
Wayne Shandon, riding as straight as Hume now, his hair flashing itsred at them, his face strangely white,--some one cried that he wasafraid,--had come to the short cut. His eyes leaving the way in frontof him for a swift second saw the form of a girl standing out from thecrowd and failed to see the crowd that was watching him, for theinstant forgetful of Sledge Hume riding on his spurs, sweeping onacross the bridge that rocked under him. Then Shandon's eyes came backto the black gulf where a white snowshoe rabbit had found death, whicha white maiden had leaped for his sake.
"We can do it, Little Saxon," he said gently. "We can do it for Wanda,can't we? She'd hate to see us beaten by Hume. For Wanda, LittleSaxon. Now!"
The roar of the water smote upon Little Saxon's ears, the deep chasmseemed a live and evil thing snapping at him. But he rushed on towardit, he felt his master's hand, he heard his master talking to him, andhe had learned to love and trust his master. He swept on, down theslope, gathering speed at each great bounding leap, racing as few haveseen a horse run, sensing the end of the race, sniffing victory withquivering flaring nostrils. He felt the sudden slackening of his reinsas Shandon whispered, "Now!"; he knew that his master had put his lifeinto his horse's keeping; knew that he was loved and trusted in thisfinal moment even as he gave his own love and trust; and gathering thegreat, iron muscles of his great iron body, he leaped.
He leaped, flinging his body recklessly. Upon his back Wayne Shandon,sitting very still and tense and erect, his eyes upon the form of agirl, his life in Little Saxon's keeping, had essayed the thing that noone had expected even Red Reckless to do. The white froth of the waterflashed under them, the jagged rocks menaced, the boom of the riverdeafened them. As he had leaped before, that first day when Shandonand Big Bill had come upon him, Little Saxon leaped now. And as helanded his hind feet sent a rattle of stones down into the hungeringgulf below.
There had been a silence as of death. Now there was a shout thatdrowned the roar of the river robbed of its prey. Men yelled and threwtheir arms up and yelled again.
On came Endymion carrying Sledge Hume who had at last understood andwho now was riding with bloody spurs and a quirt that cut in swiftvicious blows at his horse's sweating hide.
On came Little Saxon, snorting his defiance to his brother, RedReckless sitting straight in the saddle, his spurs clean.
Quick hands had run the taut string across the end of the course. Twobig horses carrying two big men shot across it. But the breast of onehad struck a dozen lengths ahead of the other, and through the echoingbabel the judge's voice was lost as he shouted:
"Wayne Shandon on Little Saxon wins!"