Part 20 (1/2)

”Well, now, who'd 'a' thought that?” demanded Long, still only half convinced. ”He didn't strike me like that kind of a man. Well, you never can tell! How come you fellows to be chasin' him?”

”You see,” said Steele, ”every one was sure he had gone up to Rainbow.

The sheriff and posse is up there now, looking for him; but we four--Stone and Harlow, the chaps at the other end, were with us, you know--we were up in the foothills on a deerhunt. We were out early--sun-up is the best time for deer, they tell me--and we had a spygla.s.s. Well, we just happened to see a man ride out from between two hills, quite a way off. Stone noticed right away that he was riding a sorrel horse. It was a sorrel horse that Bransford stole, you know. We didn't suspect, though, who it was till a bit later. Then Rex tried to pick him up again and saw that he was going out of his way to avoid the ridges--keeping cover, you know. Then we caught on and took after him pell-mell. He had a big start; but he was riding slowly so as not to make a dust--that is, till he saw our dust. Then he lit out.”

”You're not deputies, then?” said Long.

”Oh, no, not at all!” said Steele, secretly flattered. ”So Harlow and Stone galloped off to town. The program was that they'd wire down to Escondido to have horses ready for them, come down on Number Six and head him off. They were not to tell any one in Arcadia. There's five thousand dollars' reward out for him--but it isn't that exactly. It was a cowardly, beastly murder, don't you know; and we thought it would be rather a big thing if we could take him alone.”

”You got him penned all right,” said Tobe. ”He can't get out, so far as I know, unless he runs over us or the men at the other end. By George, we must get away from this fire, too!” He set the example, dragging the bedding with him to the shelter of a big rock. ”He could pick us off too slick here in the light. How're you going to get him? There's a heap of country in that Basin, all rough and broken, full o' boulders--mighty good cover.”

”Starve him out!” said Griffith. This was base deceit. Deep in his heart he believed that the quarry sat beside him, well fed and contented. Yet the unthinkable insolence of it--if this were indeed Bransford--dulled his belief.

Long laughed as he spread down the bed. ”He'll shoot a deer. Maybe, if he had it all planned out, he may have grub cached in there somewhere.

There's watertanks in the rocks. Say, what are your pardners at the other side going to do for grub?”

”Oh, they brought out cheese and crackers and stuff,” said Gurd.

”I'll tell you what, boys, you've bit off more than you can chaw,” said Jeff--Tobe, that is. ”He can't get out without a fight--but, then, you can't go in there to hunt for him without weakening your guard; and he'd be under shelter and have all the best of it. He'd shoot you so dead you'd never know what happened. I don't want none of it! I'd as lief put on boxing gloves and crawl into a hole after a bear! Look here, now, this is your show; but I'm a heap older'n you boys. Want to know what I think?”

”Certainly,” said Rex.

”Goin' to talk turkey to me?” An avaricious light came into Long's eyes.

”Of course; you're in on the reward,” said Rex diffidently and rather stiffly. ”We are not in this for the money.”

”I can use the money--whatever share you want to give me,” said Long dryly; ”but if you take my advice my share won't be but a little. I think you ought to keep under shelter at the mouth of this canon--one of you--and let the other one go to Escondido and send for help, quick, and a lot of it.”

”What's the matter with you going?” asked Griffith disingenuously. He wanted Long to show his hand. It would never do to abandon the siege of Double Mountain to arrest this _soi-disant_ Long on mere suspicion. On the other hand, Mr. Rex Griffith had no idea of letting Long escape his clutches until his ident.i.ty was established, one way or the other, beyond all question.

That was why Long declined the offer. His honest gaze s.h.i.+fted. ”I ain't much of a rider,” he said evasively. Young Griffith read correctly the thought which the excuse concealed. Evidently Long considered himself an elder soldier, if not a better, than either of his two young guests, but wished to spare their feelings by not letting them find it out. Griffith found this plain solution inconsistent with his homicidal theory: a murderer, fleeing for his life, would have jumped at the chance.

There are two sides to every question. Let us, this once, prove both sides. Wholly oblivious to Griffith's lynx-eyed watchfulness and his leading questions, Mr. Long yet recognized the futility of an attempt to ride away on Mr. Griffith's horse with Mr. Griffith's benison. There we have the other point of view.

”We'll have to send for grub anyway,” pursued the sagacious Mr. Long.

”I've only got a little left; and that old liar, Gwin, won't be out for four days--if he comes then. And--er--look here now--if I was you boys I'd let the sheriff and his posse smoke your badger out. They get paid to tend to that--and it looks to me like some one was going to get hurt.

You've done enough.”

All this advice was so palpably sound that the doubter was, for the second, staggered--for a second only. This was the man he had seen in the prisoner's dock. He was morally sure of it. For all the difference of appearance, this was the man. Yet those blasts--the far-seen fire--the hearty welcome--this delivery of himself into their hands?...

Griffith scarcely knew what he did think. He blamed himself for his unworthy suspicions; he blamed Gurdy more for having no suspicions at all.

”Anything else?” he said. ”That sounds good.”

Tobe studied for some time.

”Well,” he said at last, ”there may be some way he can get out. I don't think he can--but he might find a way. He knows he's trapped; but likely he has no idea yet how many of us there are. So we know he'll try, and he won't be just climbing for fun. He'll take a chance.”

Steele broke in:

”He didn't leave any rope on his saddle.”

Tobe nodded.