Part 31 (1/2)
”How many people do you make out?” and Hamlin's voice shook a little.
”There's four, ain't there?”
At that distance the fugitives looked like mere black dots. It could scarcely be determined that they moved, and yet their outlines were distinct against the background of white snow, while the two watchers possessed the trained vision of the plains. Hughes answered after a deliberate inspection, without so much as turning his head.
”Thar's four; leastwise thar was four hosses, and two--the Injuns likely--are ridin' double. Thar animals are 'bout played, it looks ter me--just able ter crawl. Ain't had no fodder is 'bout the size o' it.
We ought to be able ter head thet bunch off 'fore they git to the Canadian at thet rate o' travel--hey, Sergeant?”
Hamlin's eyes followed the long sweep of the cross-ridge, studying its trend, and the direction of the intervening valleys. Once down on the other slope all this extensive view would be hidden; they would have to ride blindly, guessing at the particular swale along which those others were advancing. To come to the summit again would surely expose them to those keen Indian eyes. They would be searching the trail ahead ceaselessly, noting every object along the crests of the ridges.
However, if the pa.s.sage around was not blocked with snow, they ought to attain the junction in ample time. With twice as far to travel, their ponies were strong and fit, and should win out against Le Fevre's starved beasts. He waved his gloved hand.
”We 'll try it,” he said shortly; ”come on, Hughes.”
He led off along the steep side of the hill, and forcing his horse into a sharp trot, headed straight out into the white wilderness; Hughes, without uttering a word, brought down his quirt on his pony's flank and followed.
CHAPTER x.x.x
THE FIGHT IN THE SNOW
The slope toward the south had not been swept clear by the wind, and the horses broke through the crust to their knees, occasionally stumbling into hollows where the drifts were deep. This made progress slow, although Hamlin pressed forward recklessly, fully aware of what it would mean should the fugitives emerge first, and thus achieve a clear pa.s.sage to the river. What was going on there to the right, behind the fringe of low hills, could not be conjectured, but to the left the riders could see clearly for a great distance over the desolate, snow-draped land, down to the dark waters of the Canadian and the sh.o.r.e beyond. It was all a deserted waste, barren of movement, and no smoke bore evidence of any Indian encampment near by. A mile or more to the west the river took a sharp bend, disappearing behind the bluffs, and on the open plain, barely visible against the unsullied mantle of snow, were dark specks, apparently moving, but in erratic fas.h.i.+on. The distance intervening was too great for either man to distinguish exactly what these might be, yet as they plunged onward their keen eyes searched the valley vigilantly through the cold clear air.
”Some of your long-horns, Hughes?” asked the Sergeant finally, pointing as he turned and glanced back. ”Quite a bunch of cattle, it looks to me.”
”Them thar ain't cows,” returned the other positively. ”Tha 're too closely bunched up. I reckon it 'll be Black Kettle's pony herd.”
”Then his village will lie in beyond the big bend there,” and Hamlin rose in his stirrups, shading his eyes. ”The herders have n't driven them far since the storm broke. You don't see any smoke, do you?”
Hughes shook his head.
”You would n't likely see none against thet gray sky; them ponies is two er maybe three miles off, an' ther camp is likely a mile er so further. Thar 's a big bend thar, as I remember; a sort o' level spot with bluff all 'round, 'cept on the side o' ther river. We hed a cattle corral thar onc't, durin' a round-up. Most likely that's whar they are.”
”And Le Fevre is heading straight for the spot. Well, he 'll have to come out on this bench first.”
”Yep, there sure ain't no valleys lying between. How many o' these yere gulch openings have we got past already?”
”Three; there 's the fourth just ahead. That's the one they were trailing through. No doubt about that, is there?”
”Not 'less them Injuns took to the ridge. They wus sure in the fourth valley when we fust sighted the outfit back thar. Whatcher goin' ter do, Sergeant? Jump 'em a hoss-back, an' just pump lead?”
Hamlin had thought this over as he rode and already had planned his attack. The opening to the valley, along which Le Fevre's exhausted party were slowly advancing toward them, seemed favorable--it was narrow and badly choked with snow. It offered an ideal place for a surprise and was far enough away from the Indian encampment--if the latter was situated as Hughes believed, in the great bend above--so that no echo of shots would carry that distance, even through the crisp atmosphere. There were two things the Sergeant had determined to accomplish if possible--the rescue of Miss Molly uninjured, and the capture of Le Fevre. No matter how deeply he despised the man he could not afford to have him killed. So far as the Indians were concerned there would be no mercy shown, for if either one escaped he would carry the news to the village. With all this in his mind the Sergeant swung out of the saddle, dropping the rein to the ground, confident that the tired cow-pony would remain quiet. His belt was buckled outside the army overcoat, and he drew his revolver, tested it, and slipped it back loosely into the holster. Then he pulled out the rifle from under the flap of the saddle, grimly handling it in his gloved fingers. Hughes, his head sunk into his fur collar, his hot breath steaming in the cold atmosphere, watched him curiously.
”Lookin' fer a right smart fight, I reckon,” he said, a trifle uneasily. ”Believe me, yer ain't goin' ter find thet fellar no spring chicken. He 's some on ther gun play.”
”I hope he knows enough to quit when he 's cornered,” returned the other pleasantly, sweeping his eyes to the opening in the hills, ”for I 'm aiming to take him back to Kansas alive.”
”The h.e.l.l ye are!”
”That 's the plan, pardner, and I 've got reason for it. I knew Le Fevre once, years ago, during the war, and I 've been some anxious to get my hands on him ever since. He 's worth far more to me alive than dead, just now, and, Hughes,” his voice hardening, ”you 'll bear that fact in mind when the fracas begins. From now on this is my affair, not yours. You understand? You get busy with the two bucks, and leave the white man to me. Come on now,--dismount.”