Part 19 (2/2)
the same line of reasoning a man ort to hunt out a cactus to set on so's he could be surprised pleasant if it turned out to be a Burbank one.”
”You're hopeless,” laughed the girl. ”But look--the moonlight on the peaks! Isn't it wonderful! See how it distorts outlines, and throws a mysterious glamour over the dark patches of timber. Corot would have loved it.”
The Texan shook his head: ”No. It wouldn't have got _to him_. He couldn't never have got into the feel of stuff like that. Meakin did, and Remington, but it takes old Charlie Russell to pick it right out of the air an' slop it onto canvas.”
Alice regarded the man in wonder. ”You do love it!” she said. ”Why should you be here if you didn't love it?”
”Bein' a cow-hand, it's easier to make a livin' here than in New York or Boston. I've never be'n there, but I judge that's the case.”
”But you are a cow-hand from choice. You have an education and you could----”
”No. All the education I've got you could pile onto a dime, an' it wouldn't kill more'n a dozen men. Me an' the higher education flirted for a couple of years or so, way back yonder in Austin, but owin' to certain an' sundry eccentricities of mine that was frowned on by civilization, I took to the brush an' learnt the cow business. Then after a short but onmonotonous sojourn in Las Vegas, me an' Bat came north for our health. . . . Here's Johnson's horse pasture. We've got to slip through here an' past the home ranch in a quiet an'
on.o.bstrusive manner if we aim to preserve the continuity of Winthrup's spinal column.”
”Can't we go around?” queried the girl.
”No. The coulee is fenced clean acrost an' way up to where even a goat couldn't edge past. We've got to slip through. Once we get past the big reservoir we're all right. I'll scout on ahead.”
The cowboy swung to the ground and threw open the barbed-wire gate.
”Keep straight on through, Bat, unless you hear from me. I'll be waitin' by the bunk-house. Chances are, them salamanders will all be poundin' their ear pretty heavy, bein' up all last night to the dance.”
He galloped away and the others followed at a walk. For an hour no one spoke.
”I thought that fence enclosed a pasture, not a county,” growled Endicott, as he clumsily s.h.i.+fted his weight to bear on a spot less sore.
”_Oui_, dat hoss pasture she 'bout seven mile long. Den we com' by de ranch, an' den de reservoir, an' de hay fences.” The half-breed opened a gate and a short distance down the creek Alice made out the dark buildings of the ranch. As they drew nearer the girl felt her heart race madly, and the soft thud of the horse's feet on the sod sounded like the thunder of a cavalry charge. Grim and forbidding loomed the buildings. Not a light showed, and she pictured them peopled with lurking forms that waited to leap out as they pa.s.sed and throttle the man who had rescued her from the brutish Purdy. She was sorry she had been nasty to Endicott. She wanted to tell him so, but it was too late. She thought of the revolver that Jennie had given her, and slipping her hand into her pocket she grasped it by the b.u.t.t. At least, she could do for him what he had done for her. She could shoot the first man to lay hands on him.
Suddenly her heart stood still and her lips pressed tight. A rider emerged from the black shadow of the bunk-house.
”Hands up!” The girl's revolver was levelled at the man's head, and the next instant she heard the Texan laugh softly.
”Just point it the other way, please, if it's loaded. A fellow shot me with one of those once an' I had a headache all the rest of the evenin'.” His horse nosed in beside hers. ”It's just as I thought,”
he explained. ”Everyone around the outfit's dead to the world. Bein'
up all night dancin', an' most of the next day trailin' home, you couldn't get 'em up for a poker game--let alone hangin' a pilgrim.”
Alice's fear vanished the moment the Texan appeared. His air of absolute self-confidence in his ability to handle a situation compelled the confidence of others.
”Aren't your nerves ever shaken? Aren't you ever afraid?” she asked.
Tex smiled: ”Nerve ain't in not bein' afraid,” he answered evasively, ”but in not lettin' folks know when you're afraid.”
Another gate was opened, and as they pa.s.sed around the scrub-capped spur of a ridge that projected into the widening valley, the girl drew her horse up sharply and pointed ahead.
”Oh! A little lake!” she cried enthusiastically. ”See how the moonlight s.h.i.+mmers on the tiny waves.”
Heavy and low from the westward came an ominous growl of thunder.
”Yes. An' there'll be somethin' besides moonlight a-s.h.i.+mmerin' around here directly. That ain't exactly a lake. It's Johnson's irrigation reservoir. If we could get about ten miles below here before the storm hits, we can hole up in a rock cave 'til she blows over. The creek valley narrows down to a canyon where it cuts through the last ridge of mountains.
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