XVI. Thunder River

by Thomas Bailey Aldrich

　　FOR an instant Hare's brain reeled, and Mescal's broken murmurings weremeaningless Then his faculties grew steady and acute; he held the girl asif he intended never to let her go. Mescal clung to him with a wildnessthat gave him anxiety for her reason; there was something almost fiercein the tension of her arms, in the blind groping for his face.

　　"Mescal! It's Jack, safe and well," he said. "Let me look at you."

　　At the sound of his voice all her rigid strength changed to a yieldingweakness; she leaned back supported by his arms and looked at him. Haretrembled before the dusky level glance he remembered so well, and astears began to flow he drew her head to his shoulder. He had forgottento prepare himself for a different Mescal. Despite the quivering smileof happiness, her eyes were strained with pain. The oval contour, therich bloom of her face had gone; beauty was there still, but it was theghost of the old beauty.

　　"Jack--is it--really you?" she asked.

　　He answered with a kiss.

　　She slipped out of his arms breathless and scarlet. "Tell me all--"

　　"There's much to tell, but not before you kiss me. It has been more thana year."

　　"Only a year! Have I been gone only a year?"

　　"Yes, a year. But it's past now. Kiss me, Mescal. One kiss will payfor that long year, though it broke my heart."

　　Shyly she raised her hands to his shoulders and put her lips to his."Yes, you've found me, Jack, thank God! just in time!"

　　"Mescal! What's wrong? Aren't you well?"

　　"Pretty well. But if you had not come soon I should have starved."

　　"Starved? Let me get my saddle-bags--I have bread and meat."

　　"Wait. I'm not so hungry now. I mean very soon I should not have hadany food at all."

　　"But your peon--the dumb Indian? Surely he could find something to eat.What of him? Where is he?"

　　"My peon is dead. He has been dead for months, I don't know how many."

　　"Dead! What was the matter with him?"

　　"I never knew. I found him dead one morning and I buried him in thesand."

　　Mescal led Hare under the cottonwoods and pointed to the Indian's grave,now green with grass. Farther on in a circle of trees stood a littlehogan skilfully constructed out of brush; the edge of a red blanketpeeped from the door; a burnt-out fire smoked on a stone fireplace, andblackened earthen vessels lay near. The white seeds of the cottonwoodswere flying light as feathers; plum-trees were pink in blossom; therewere vines twining all about; through the openings in the foliage shonethe blue of sky and red of cliff. Patches of blossoming Bowers were hereand there lit to brilliance by golden shafts of sunlight. The twitter ofbirds and hum of bees were almost drowned in the soft roar of water.

　　"Is that the Colorado I hear?" asked Hare.

　　"No, that's Thunder River. The Colorado is farther down in the GrandCanyon."

　　"Farther down! Mescal, I must have come a mile from the rim. Where arewe?"

　　"We are almost at the Colorado, and directly under the head of Coconina.We can see the mountain from the break in the valley below."

　　"Come sit by me here under this tree. Tell me--how did you ever gethere?"

　　Then Mescal told him how the peon had led her on a long trail from BitterSeeps, how they had camped at desert waterholes, and on the fourth daydescended to Thunder River.

　　"I was quite happy at first. It's always summer down here. There wererabbits, birds, beaver, and fruit--we had enough to eat I explored thevalley with Wolf or rode Noddle up and down the canyon. Then my peondied, and I had to shift for myself. There came a time when the beaverleft the valley, and Wolf and I had to make a rabbit serve for days. Iknew then I'd have to get across the desert to the Navajos or starve inthe canyon. I hesitated about climbing out into the desert, for I wasn'tsure of the trail to the waterholes. Noddle wandered off up the canyonand never came back. After he was gone and I knew I couldn't get out Igrew homesick. The days weren't so bad because I was always hunting forsomething to eat, but the nights were lonely. I couldn't sleep. I layawake listening to the river, and at last I could hear whispering andsinging and music, and strange sounds, and low thunder, always lowthunder. I wasn't really frightened, only lonely, and the canyon was soblack and full of mutterings. Sometimes I'd dream I was back on theplateau with you, Jack, and Bolly and the sheep, and when I'd awake inthe loneliness I'd cry right out--"

　　"Mescal, I heard those cries," said Hare.

　　"It was strange--the way I felt. I believe if I'd never known and--andloved you, Jack, I'd have forgotten home. After I'd been here a while, Iseemed to be drifting, drifting. It was as if I had lived in the canyonlong before, and was remembering. The feeling was strong, but alwaysthoughts of you, and of the big world, brought me back to the presentwith its loneliness and fear of starvation. Then I wanted you, and I'dcry out. I knew I must send Wolf home. How hard it was to make him go!But at last he trotted off, looking backward, and I--waited and waited."

　　She leaned against him. The hand which had plucked at his sleeve droppedto his fingers and clung there. Hare knew how her story had slighted theperils and privations of that long year. She had grown lonely in thecanyon darkness; she had sent Wolf away and had waited--all was said inthat. But more than any speech, the look of her, and the story told inthe thin brown hands touched his heart. Not for an instant since hisarrival had she altogether let loose of his fingers, or coat, or arm.She had lived so long alone in this weird world of silence and movingshadows and murmuring water, that she needed to feel the substance of herhopes, to assure herself of the reality of the man she loved.

　　"My mustang--Bolly--tell me of her," said Mescal.

　　"Bolly's fine. Sleek and fat and lazy! She's been in the fields eversince you left. Not a bridle on her. Many times have I seen her pokeher black muzzle over the fence and look down the lane. She'd neverforget you, Mescal."

　　"Oh! how I want to see her! Tell me--everything."

　　"Wait a little. Let me fetch Silvermane and we'll make a fire and eat.Then--"

　　"Tell me now."

　　"Well, Mescal, it's soon told." Then came the story of events growing outof her flight. When he told of the shooting at Silver Cup, Mescal rosewith heaving bosom and blazing eyes.

　　"It was nothing--I wasn't hurt much. Only the intention was bad. We sawno more of Snap or Holderness. The worst of it all was that Snap's wifedied."

　　"Oh, I am sorry--sorry. Poor Father Naab! How he must hate me, the causeof it all! But I couldn't stay--I couldn't marry Snap."

　　"Don't blame yourself, Mescal. What Snap might have done if you hadmarried him is guesswork. He might have left drink alone a while longer.But he was bad clean through. I heard Dave Naab tell him that. Snapwould have gone over to Holderness sooner or later. And now he's arustler, if not worse."

　　"Then those men think Snap killed you?"

　　"Yes."

　　"What's going to happen when you meet Snap, or any of them?"

　　"Somebody will be surprised," replied Hare, with a laugh.

　　"Jack, it's no laughing matter." She fastened her hands in the lapels ofhis coat and her eyes grew sad. "You can never hang up your gun again."

　　"No. But perhaps I can keep out of their way, especially Snap's.Mescal, you've forgotten Silvermane, and how he can run."

　　"I haven't forgotten. He can run, but he can't beat Bolly." She saidthis with a hint of her old spirit. "Jack--you want to take me backhome?"

　　"Of course. What did you expect when you sent Wolf?"

　　"I didn't expect. I just wanted to see you, or somebody, and I thoughtof the Navajos. Couldn't I live with them? Why can't we stay here or ina canyon across the Colorado where there's plenty of game?"

　　"I'm going to take you home and Father Naab shall marry you--to--to me."

　　Startled, Mescal fell back upon his shoulder and did not stir nor speakfor a long time. "Did--did you tell him?"

　　"Yes."

　　"What did he say? Was he angry? Tell me."

　　"He was kind and good as he always is. He said if I found you, then theissue would be between Snap and me, as man to man. You are still pledgedto Snap in the Mormon Church and that can't be changed. I don't supposeeven if he's outlawed that it could be changed."

　　"Snap will not let any grass grow in the trails to the oasis," saidMescal. "Once he finds I've come back to life he'll have me. You don'tknow him, Jack. I'm afraid to go home."

　　"My dear, there's no other place for us to go. We can't live the life ofIndians."

　　"But Jack, think of me watching you ride out from home! Think of mealways looking for Snap! I couldn't endure it. I've grown weak in thisyear of absence."

　　"Mescal, look at me." His voice rang as he held her face to face. "Wemust decide everything. Now--say you love me!"

　　"Yes--yes."

　　"Say it."

　　"I--love you--Jack."

　　"Say you'll marry me!"

　　"I will marry you."

　　"Then listen. I'll get you out of this canyon and take you home. Youare mine and I'll keep you." He held her tightly with strong arms; hisface paled, his eyes darkened. "I don't want to meet Snap Naab. I shalltry to keep out of his way. I hope I can. But Mescal, I'm yours now.Your happiness--perhaps your life--depends on me. That makes adifference. Understand!"

　　Silvermane walked into the glade with a saddle-girth so tight that hismaster unbuckled it only by dint of repeated effort. Evidently the richgrass of Thunder River Canyon appealed strongly to the desert stallion.

　　"Here, Silver, how do you expect to carry us out if you eat and drinklike that?" Hare removed the saddle and tethered the gray to one of thecottonwoods. Wolf came trotting into camp proudly carrying a rabbit.

　　"Mescal, can we get across the Colorado and find a way up over Coconina?"asked Hare.

　　"Yes, I'm sure we can. My peon never made a mistake about directions.There's no trail, but Navajos have crossed the river at this season, andworked up a canyon."

　　The shadows had gathered under the cliffs, and the rosy light high up onthe ramparts had chilled and waned when Hare and Mescal sat down to theirmeal. Wolf lay close to the girl and begged for morsels. Then in thetwilight they sat together content to be silent, listening to the lowthunder of the river. Long after Mescal had retired into her hogan Harelay awake before her door with his head in his saddle and listened to thelow roll, the dull burr, the dreamy hum of the tumbling waters. Theplace was like the oasis, only infinitely more hidden under the cliffs.A few stars twinkled out of the dark blue, and one hung, beaconlike, onthe crest of a noble crag. There were times when he imagined the valleywas as silent as the desert night, and other times when he imagined heheard the thundering roll of avalanches and the tramp of armies. Thenthe voices of Mescal's solitude spoke to him--glorious laughter and lowsad wails of woe, sweet songs and whispers and murmurs. His last wakingthoughts were of the haunting sound of Thunder River, and that he hadcome to bear Mescal away from its loneliness.

　　He bestirred himself at the first glimpse of day, and when the gray mistshad lifted to wreathe the crags it was light enough to begin the journey.Mescal shed tears at the grave of the faithful peon. "He loved thiscanyon," she said, softly. Hare lifted her upon Silvermane. He walkedbeside the horse and Wolf trotted on before. They travelled awhile underthe flowering cottonwoods on a trail bordered with green tufts of grassand great star-shaped lilies. The river was still hidden, but it filledthe grove with its soft thunder. Gradually the trees thinned out, hardstony ground encroached upon the sand, bowlders appeared in the way; andpresently, when Silvermane stepped out of the shade of the cottonwoods,Hare saw the lower end of the valley with its ragged vent.

　　"Look back!" said Mescal.

　　Hare saw the river bursting from the base of the wall in two whitestreams which soon united below, and leaped down in a continuous cascade.Step by step the stream plunged through the deep gorge, a broken, foamingraceway, and at the lower end of the valley it took its final leap into ablue abyss, and then found its way to the Colorado, hidden underground.

　　The flower-scented breeze and the rumbling of the river persisted longafter the valley lay behind and above, but these failed at length in theclose air of the huge abutting walls. The light grew thick, the stonescracked like deep bell-strokes; the voices of man and girl had a hollowsound and echo. Silvermane clattered down the easy trail at a gait whichurged Hare now and then from walk to run. Soon the gully opened out upona plateau through the centre of which, in a black gulf, wound the redColorado, sullen-voiced, booming, never silent nor restful. Here weredistances by which Hare could begin to comprehend the immensity of thecanyon, and he felt lost among the great terraces leading up to mesasthat dwarfed the Echo Cliffs. All was bare rock of many hues burningunder the sun.

　　"Jack, this is mescal," said the girl, pointing to some towering plants.

　　All over the sunny slopes cacti lifted slender shafts, unfolding inspiral leaves as they shot upward and bursting at the top into plumes ofyellow flowers. The blossoming stalks waved in the wind, and black beescircled round them.

　　"Mescal, I've always wanted to see the Flower of the Desert from whichyou're named. It's beautiful."

　　Hare broke a dead stalk of the cactus and was put to instant flight by astream of bees pouring with angry buzz from the hollow centre. Two bigfellows were so persistent that he had to beat them off with his hat.

　　"You shouldn't despoil their homes," said Mescal, with a peal oflaughter.

　　"I'll break another stalk and get stung, if you'll laugh again," repliedHare.

　　They traversed the remaining slope of the plateau, and entering the headof a ravine, descended a steep cleft of flinty rock, rock so hard thatSilvermane's iron hoofs not so much as scratched it. Then reaching alevel, they passed out to rounded sand and the river.

　　"It's a little high," said Hare dubiously. "Mescal, I don't like thelooks of those rapids."

　　Only a few hundred rods of the river could be seen. In front of Hare thecurrent was swift but not broken. Above, where the canyon turned, theriver sheered out with a majestic roll and falling in a wide smooth curvesuddenly narrowed into a leaping crest of reddish waves. Below Hare wasa smaller rapid where the broken water turned toward the nearer side ofthe river, but with an accompaniment of twisting swirls and viciouswaves.

　　"I guess we'd better risk it," said Hare, grimly recalling the hot rock,the sand, and lava of the desert.

　　"It's safe, if Silvermane is a good swimmer," replied Mescal. "We cantake the river above and cut across so the current will help."

　　"Silvermane loves the water. He'll make this crossing easily. But hecan't carry us both, and it's impossible to make two trips. I'll have toswim."

　　Without wasting more words and time over a task which would only growmore formidable with every look and thought, Hare led Silvermane up thesand-bar to its limit. He removed his coat and strapped it behind thesaddle; his belt and revolver and boots he hung over the pommel.

　　"How about Wolf? I'd forgotten him."

　　"Never fear for him! He'll stick close to me."

　　"Now, Mescal, there's the point we want to make, that bar; see it?"

　　"Surely we can land above that."

　　"I'll be satisfied if we get even there. You guide him for it. And,Mescal, here's my gun. Try to keep it from getting wet. Balance it onthe pommel--so. Come, Silver; come, Wolf."

　　"Keep up-stream," called Mescal as Hare plunged in. "Don't drift belowus."

　　In two steps Silvermane went in to his saddle, and he rolled with asplash and a snort, sinking Mescal to her hips. His nose level with thewater, mane and tail floating, he swam powerfully with the current.

　　For Hare the water was just cold enough to be delightful after the longhot descent, but its quality was strange. Keeping up-stream of the horseand even with Mescal, he swam with long regular strokes for perhapsone-quarter of the distance. But when they reached the swirling eddieshe found that he was tiring. The water was thick and heavy; itcompressed his lungs and dragged at his feet. He whirled round and roundin the eddies and saw Silvermane doing the same. Only by main forcecould he breast his way out of these whirlpools. When a wave slapped hisface he tasted sand, and then he knew what the strange feeling meant.There was sand here as on the desert. Even in the depths of the canyonhe could not escape it. As the current grew rougher he began to feelthat he could scarcely spread his arms in the wide stroke. Changing thestroke he discovered that he could not keep up with Silvermane, and hechanged back again. Gradually his feet sank lower and lower, the waterpressed tighter round him, his arms seemed to grow useless. Then heremembered a saying of August Naab that the Navajos did not attempt toswim the river when it was in flood and full of sand. He ceased tostruggle, and drifting with the current, soon was close to Silvermane,and grasped a saddle strap.

　　"Not there!" called Mescal. "He might strike you. Hang to his tail!"

　　Hare dropped behind, and catching Silvermane's tail held on firmly. Thestallion towed him easily. The waves dashed over him and lapped atMescal's waist. The current grew stronger, sweeping Silvermane down outof line with the black wall which had frowned closer and closer. Mescallifted the rifle, and resting the stock on the saddle, held it upright.The roar of the rapids seemed to lose its volume, and presently it died inthe splashing and slapping of broken water closer at hand. Mescal turnedto him with bright eyes; curving her hand about her lips she shouted:

　　"Can't make the bar! We've got to go through this side of the rapids.Hang on!"

　　In the swelling did Hare felt the resistless pull of the current. As heheld on with both hands, hard pressed to keep his grasp, Silvermanedipped over a low fall in the river. Then Hare was riding the rushingwater of an incline. It ended below in a red-crested wave, and beyondwas a chaos of curling breakers. Hare had one glimpse of Mescalcrouching low, shoulders narrowed and head bent; then, with one whiteflash of the stallion's mane against her flying black hair, she went outof sight in leaping waves and spray. Hare was thrown forward into thebacklash of the wave. The shock blinded him, stunned him, almost torehis arms from his body, but his hands were so twisted in Silvermane'stail that even this could not loosen them. The current threw him fromwave to wave. He was dragged through a caldron, blind from stingingblows, deaf from the tremendous roar. Then the fierce contention ofwaves lessened, the threshing of crosscurrents straightened, and he couldbreathe once more. Silvermane dragged him steadily; and, finally, hisfeet touched the ground. He could scarcely see, so full were his eyes ofthe sandy water, but he made out Mescal rising from the river onSilvermane, as with loud snorts he climbed to a bar. Hare staggered upand fell on the sand.

　　"Jack, are you all right?" inquired Mescal.

　　"All right, only pounded out of breath, and my eyes are full of sand.How about you?"

　　"I don't think I ever was any wetter," replied Mescal, laughing. "It washard to stick on holding the rifle. That first wave almost unseated me.I was afraid we might strike the rocks, but the water was deep.Silvermane is grand, Jack. Wolf swam out above the rapids and waswaiting for us when we landed."

　　Hare wiped the sand out of his eyes and rose to his feet, finding himselflittle the worse for the adventure. Mescal was wringing the water fromthe long straight braids of her hair. She was smiling, and a tint ofcolor showed in her cheeks. The wet buckskin blouse and short skirtclung tightly to her slender form. She made so pretty a picture andappeared so little affected by the peril they had just passed throughthat Hare, yielding to a tender rush of pride and possession, kissed thepink cheeks till they flamed.

　　"All wet," said he, "you and I, clothes, food, guns--everything."

　　"It's hot and we'll soon dry," returned Mescal. "Here's the canyon andcreek we must follow up to Coconina. My peon mapped them in the sand forme one day. It'll probably be a long climb."

　　Hare poured the water out of his boots, pulled them on, and helpingMescal to mount Silvermane, he took the bridle over his arm and led theway into a black-mouthed canyon, through which flowed a stream of clearwater. Wolf splashed and pattered along beside him. Beyond the marblerock this canyon opened out to great breadth and wonderful walls. Harehad eyes only for the gravelly bars and shallow levels of the creek;intent on finding the easy going for his horse he strode on and onthoughtless of time. Nor did he talk to Mescal, for the work was hard,and he needed his breath. Splashing the water, hammering the stones,Silvermane ever kept his nose at Hare's elbow. They climbed littleridges, making short cuts from point to point, they threaded miles ofnarrow winding creek floor, and passed under ferny cliffs and over grassybanks and through thickets of yellow willow. As they wound along thecourse of the creek, always up and up, the great walls imperceptiblylowered their rims. The warm sun soared to the zenith. Jumble ofbowlders, stretches of white gravel ridges of sage, blocks of granite,thickets of manzanita long yellow slopes, crumbling crags, clumps ofcedar and lines of pinon--all were passed in the persistent ploddingclimb. The canon grew narrower toward its source; the creek lost itsvolume; patches of snow gleamed in sheltered places. At last theyellow-streaked walls edged out upon a grassy hollow and the great darkpines of Coconina shadowed the snow.

　　"We're up," panted Hare. "What a climb! Five hours! One more day--thenhome!"

　　Silvermane's ears shot up and Wolf barked. Two gray deer loped out of athicket and turned inquisitively. Reaching for his rifle Hare threw backthe lever, but the action clogged, it rasped with the sound of crunchingsand, and the cartridge could not be pressed into the chamber or ejected.He fumbled about the breach of the gun and his brow clouded.

　　"Sand! Out of commission!" he exclaimed. "Mescal, I don't like that."

　　"Use your Colt," suggested Mescal.

　　The distance was too great. Hare missed, and the deer bounded away intothe forest.

　　Hare built a fire under a sheltering pine where no snow covered the softmat of needles, and while Mescal dried the blankets and roasted the lastportion of meat he made a wind-break of spruce boughs. When they hadeaten, not forgetting to give Wolf a portion, Hare fed Silvermane thelast few handfuls of grain, and tied him with a long halter on the grassybank. The daylight failed and darkness came on apace. The old familiarroar of the wind in the pines was disturbing; it might mean only the lulland crash of the breaking night-gusts, and it might mean the north wind,storm, and snow. It whooped down the hollow, scattering the fewscrub-oak leaves; it whirled the red embers of the fire away into thedark to sputter in the snow, and blew the burning logs into a white glow.Mescal slept in the shelter of the spruce boughs with Wolf snug and warmbeside her. Hare stretched his tired limbs in the heat of the blaze.

　　When he awakened the fire was low and he was numb with cold. He tookcare to put on logs enough to last until morning; then he lay down oncemore, but did not sleep. The dawn came with a gray shade in the forest;it was a cloud, and it rolled over him soft, tangible, moist, and cool,and passed away under the pines. With its vanishing the dawn lightened."Mescal, if we're on the spur of Coconina, it's only ten miles or so toSilver Cup," said Hare, as he saddled Silvermane. "Mount now and we'llgo up out of the hollow and get our bearings."

　　While ascending the last step to the rim Hare revolved in his mind theprobabilities of marking a straight course to Silver Cup.

　　"Oh! Jack!" exclaimed Mescal, suddenly. "Vermillion Cliffs and home!"

　　"I've travelled in a circle!" replied Hare.

　　Mescal was enraptured at the scene. Vermillion Cliffs shone red as arose. The split in the wall marking the oasis defined its outlinessharply against the sky. Miles of the Colorado River lay in sight. Hareknew he stood on the highest point of Coconina overhanging the GrandCanyon and the Painted Desert, thousands of feet below. He noted thewondrous abyss sleeping in blue mist at his feet, while he gazed acrossto the desert awakening in the first red rays of the rising sun.

　　"Mescal, your Thunder River Canyon is only one little crack in the rocks.It is lost in this chasm," said Hare.

　　"It's lost, surely. I can t even see the tip of the peak that stood sohigh over the valley."

　　Once more turning to the left Hare ran his eye over the VermillionCliffs, and the strip of red sand shining under them, and so calculatinghis bearings he headed due north for Silver Cup. What with the snow andthe soggy ground the first mile was hard going for Hare, and Silvermaneoften sank deep. Once off the level spur of the mountain they madebetter time, for the snow thinned out on the slope and gradually gave wayto the brown dry aisles of the forest. Hare mounted in front of Mescal,and put the stallion to an easy trot; after two hours of riding theystruck a bridle-trail which Hare recognized as one leading down to thespring. In another hour they reached the steep slope of Coconina, andsaw the familiar red wall across the valley, and caught glimpses of graysage patches down through the pines.

　　"I smell smoke," said Hare.

　　"The boys must be at the spring," rejoined Mescal.

　　"Maybe. I want to be sure who's there. We'll leave the trail and slipdown through the woods to the left. I wish we could get down on the homeside of the spring. But we can't; we've got to pass it."

　　With many a pause to peer through openings in the pines Hare traversed adiagonal course down the slope, crossed the line of cedars, and reachedthe edge of the valley a mile or more above Silver Cup. Then he turnedtoward it, still cautiously leading Silvermane under cover of the fringeof cedars.

　　"Mescal, there are too many cattle in the valley," he said, looking ather significantly.

　　"They can't all be ours, that's sure," she replied. "What do you think?"

　　"Holderness!" With the word Hare's face grew set and stern. He kept on,cautiously leading the horse under the cedars, careful to avoid breakingbrush or rattling stones, occasionally whispering to Wolf; and so workedhis way along the curve of the woody slope till further progress waschecked by the bulging wall of rock.

　　"Only cattle in the valley, no horses," he said. "I've a good chance tocut across this cube and reach the trail. If I take time to climb up andsee who's at the spring maybe the chance will be gone. I don't believeDave and the boys are there."

　　He pondered a moment, then climbed up in front of Mescal, and directedthe gray out upon the valley. Soon he was among the grazing cattle. Hefelt no surprise to see the H brand on their flanks.

　　"Jack, look at that brand," said Mescal, pointing to a white-flankedsteer. "There's an old brand like a cross, Father Naab's cross, and anew brand, a single bar. Together they make an H!"

　　"Mescal! You've hit it. I remember that steer. He was a very devil tobrand. He's the property of August Naab, and Holderness has added thebar, making a clumsy H. What a rustler's trick! It wouldn't deceive achild."

　　They had reached the cedars and the trail when Wolf began to sniffsuspiciously at the wind.

　　"Look!" whispered Mescal, calling Hare's attention from the dog. "Look!A new corral!"

　　Bending back to get in line with her pointing finger Hare looked througha network of cedar boughs to see a fence of stripped pines. Farther upwere piles of unstripped logs, and close by the spring there was a newcabin with smoke curling from a stone chimney. Hare guided Silvermaneoff the trail to softer ground and went on. He climbed the slope, passedthe old pool, now a mud-puddle, and crossed the dry wash to be broughtsuddenly to a halt. Wolf had made an uneasy stand with his nose pointingto the left, and Silvermane pricked up his ears. Presently Hare heardthe stamping of hoofs off in the cedars, and before he had fullydetermined the direction from which the sound came three horses and a manstepped from the shade into a sunlit space.

　　As luck would have it Hare happened to be well screened by a thick cedar;and since there was a possibility that he might remain unseen he chose totake it. Silvermane and Wolf stood still in their tracks. Hare feltMescal's hands tighten on his coat and he pressed them to reassure her.Peeping out from his covert he saw a man in his shirt-sleeves leading thehorses--a slender, clean-faced, dark-haired man--Dene! The blood beathotly in Hare's temples and he gripped the handle of his Colt. It seemeda fatal chance that sent the outlaw to that trail. He was whistling; hehad two halters in one hand and with the other he led his bay horse bythe mane. Then Hare saw that he wore no belt; he was unarmed; on thehorses were only the halters and clinking hobbles. Hare dropped his Coltback into its holster.

　　Dene sauntered on, whistling "Dixie." When he reached the trail, insteadof crossing it, as Hare had hoped, he turned into it and came down.

　　Hare swung the switch he had broken from an aspen and struck Silvermane astinging blow on the flanks. The gray leaped forward. The crash ofbrush and rattle of hoofs stampeded Dene's horses in a twinkling. Butthe outlaw paled to a ghastly white and seemed rooted to the trail. Itwas not fear of a man or a horse that held Dene fixed; in his startingeyes was the terror of the supernatural.

　　The shoulder of the charging stallion struck Dene and sent him spinningout of the trail. In a backward glance Hare saw the outlaw fall, thenrise unhurt to shake his fists wildly and to run yelling toward thecabin.