Part 11 (2/2)
”I'll half drown you, Zen, if I have to.”
”Go ahead,” she challenged. ”I'll drown myself, if I have to.”
”Not just yet, Zen; not just yet. Afterwards you can do as you like.”
In their struggles they had been getting gradually into deeper water. At this moment they found their feet carried free, and the horses began to swim for the sh.o.r.e. Drazk held to both reins with one hand, still clutching his victim with the other. More than once they went under water together and came up half choking.
Zen was not a good swimmer, but she would gladly have broken away and taken chances with the current. Once on land she would be at his mercy.
She was using her head frantically, but could think of no device to foil him. It was not her practice to carry weapons; her whip had already gone down the stream. Presently she saw a long leather thong floating out from the saddle of Drazk's horse. It was no larger than a whiplash; apparently it was a spare lace which Drazk carried, and which had worked loose in the struggle. It was floating close to Drazk.
”Don't let me sink, George!” she cried frantically, in sudden fright.
”Save me! I won't fight any more.”
”That's better,” he said, drawing her up to him. ”I knew you'd come to your senses.”
Her hand reached the lash. With a quick motion of the arm, such as is given in throwing a rope, she had looped it once around his neck. Then, pulling the lash violently, she fought herself out of his grip. He clutched at her wildly, but could reach only some stray locks of her brown hair which had broken loose and were floating on the water.
She saw his eyes grow round and big and horrified; saw his mouth open and refuse to close; heard strange little gurgles and chokings. But she did not let go.
”When you insulted me this morning I promised to settle with you; I did not expect to have the chance so soon.”
His head had gone under water.... Suddenly she realized that he was drowning. She let go of the thong, clutched her horse's tail, and was pulled quickly ash.o.r.e.
Sitting on the gravel, she tried to think. Drazk had disappeared; his horse had landed somewhat farther down.... Doubtless Drazk had drowned.
Yes, that would be the explanation. Why change it?
Zen turned it over in her mind. Why make any explanations? It would be a good thing to forget. She could not have done otherwise under the circ.u.mstances; no jury would expect her to do otherwise. But why trouble a jury about it?
”He got what was coming to him,” she said to herself presently. She admitted no regret. On the contrary, her inborn self-confidence, her a.s.surance that she could take care of herself under any circ.u.mstances, seemed to be strengthened by the experience.
She got up, drew her hair into some kind of shape, and scrambled a little way up the steep bank. Clouds of smoke were rolling up the valley. She did not grasp the significance of the fact at the first glance, but in a moment it impacted home to her. The wind had changed!
Her help now would be needed, not by Mrs. Landson, but probably at their own camp. She sprang on her horse, re-crossed the stream, and set out on a gallop for the camp. On the way she had to ride through one thin line of fire, which she accomplished successfully. Through the smoke she could dimly see Transley's gang fighting the back-fires. She knew that was in good hands, and hastened on to the camp. Zen had had prairie experience enough to know that in hours like this there is almost sure to be something or somebody, in vital need, overlooked.
She galloped into the camp and found only Tompkins there. He had already run a little back-fire to protect the tents and the chuck-wagon.
”How goes it, Tompkins?” she cried, bursting upon him like a courier from battle.
”All set here, Ma'am,” he answered. ”All set an' safe. But they'll never hold the main fire; it'll go up the valley h.e.l.l-scootin',--beggin' your pardon, Ma'am.”
”Anyone live up the valley?”
”There is. There's the Lints--squatters about six miles up--it was from them I got the cream an' fresh eggs you was good enough to notice, Ma'am. An' there's no men folks about; jus' Mrs. Lint an' a young herd of little Lints; least, that's all was there las' night.”
”I must go up,” said Zen, with instant decision. ”I can get there before the fire, and as the Lints are evidently farmers there will be some plowed land, or at least a plow with which to run a furrow so that we can start a back-fire. Direct me.”
Tompkins directed her as to the way, and, leaving a word of explanation to be pa.s.sed on to her father, she was off. A half hour's hard riding brought her to Lint's, but she found that this careful settler had made full provision against such a contingency as was now come about. The farm buildings, implements, stables, everything was surrounded, not by a fire-guard, but by a broad plowed field. Mrs. Lint, however, was little less thankful for Zen's interest than she would have been had their little steading been in danger. She pressed Zen to wait and have at least a cup of tea, and the girl, knowing that she could be of little or no service down the valley, allowed herself to be persuaded. In this little harbor of quiet her mind began to arrange the day's events. The tragic happening at the river was as yet too recent to appear real; had it not been for the touch of her wet clothing Zen could have thought that all an unhappy dream of days ago. She reflected that neither Tompkins nor Mrs. Lint had commented upon her appearance. The hot sun had soon dried her outer apparel, and her general dishevelled condition was not remarkable on such a day as this.
<script>