They nodded silently and gloomily.
“And the lucky fellow who gets her for me will have nothing more to worry about in life. Understand? I’ll take care of him.”
She watched them nod one by onesober, gloomy-faced men. If any illusion had remained to her that these cow-punchers were fond of her, that illusion was instantly dispelled. Whatever affection they had for her, they had more for money. Bitterly she recognized in this the result of the hand picking of her father. Now the group split and rode in opposite directions.
Chapter XXVI
Relief
They spread, as though fate had directed them, to the right and left of the northern course which she had mapped out for herself. Lucky for her that cunning Riley did not have his way! She feared and hated the man for his insight, and lest he should turn back to take a look at that grove of aspens as soon as the big boss was out of the way, she no sooner saw both groups of horsemen out of sight than she swung into the saddle and sent Nancy flying down the hollow toward the north.
A two minutes’ ride brought her into another copse, well away, and, reining there, she turned and saw that Riley had indeed turned back toward the grove with his three companions. He disappeared into it. Presently she heard his shouting.
She waited for no more but gave Nancy the rein again and fled on straight north. She had no immediate fear. Riley had found the impression of her body in the soft mold under the trees, and certainly he had found the sign of Nancy. More than that, he would doubtless be able to read her trail running north and follow it swiftly, but he and his men rode tired horses which had been urged hard all through the day, and she herself was on a runner as fresh as the wind. Moreover, the night would soon come and blot out the trail for them.
It was unlucky, of course. It meant that they had picked up the direction of her flight, at least, and they would follow hard, buying new horses when they rode out the ones they were on at present. Yet too much hurry would spoil her game. Besides, she was weak from hunger and felt that she dared not risk collapse on her own part by hard riding. In thirty hours she had had only a bite of food.
When she dismounted at a water hole to let Nancy drink, she herself went to the pure trickle of water that ran into the pool. The taste of the water made her head spin. Certainly she must have nourishment before long or she could not keep the trail.
A squirrel scolded at her from a branch above. The girl looked up at the delicate little creature hungrily. Looking coldly and calmly at it she forgot that she had always been horrified in the past when men shot these pretty little things out of the trees. Hunger and flight were deeply changing Mary Hood.
She dared not fire a shot. There was no sound among the hills behind her, no neigh of horses, no clangor of iron-shod hoofs against the rocks. But she knew that the pursuit was coming slowly and surely behind her, and she must not help them along with such sign posts as rifle shots, or even the report of a revolver. The little .32 which she had balanced in her palm she shoved back into the holster and climbed again into the saddle and went on. Still as she went she looked back over her shoulder. The squirrel sat upon his branch, quite ignorant of the fact that he had been a small part of a second from death, and chattered a farewell to her.
Then the evening closed darkly around her, and they began to climb rapidly toward the summit. It was the weariest time in the girl’s life. She dared not think of food now, because it brought an almost irresistible desire to weep and complain, and she felt that tears would be a foolish waste of necessary strength.
Nancy went valiantly and skillfully about her work, but cat-foot though she was, she stumbled again and again. It was a wretched excuse for a trail that they were following, and moreover it was all strange country to Nancy. She was used to the sweeping, rolling lands of the Dunbar ranch, where a horse could gallop with never a care for her footing. She was much at a loss among these ragged rocks.
It must have been about eleven o’clock when they got over the summit and saw the mass of dark ranges pitching down before them. The loftier masses of darkness against the stars, far north, were the Tompson Mountains. She might reach their foothills in the morning if she were lucky.
Now, with Nancy laboring down a slope, the eye of the girl caught the wink of a camp fire in the midst of the trees. A thousand thoughts of food rushed into her mind. A banquet or a crust of bread? She hardly knew which she would prefer, and straightway she sent Nancy scampering recklessly toward that cheerful spot of light.
All at once the light went out. Mary Hood reined the horse with a groan. She was in country now where she could not be known. But this covering of a camp fire at the sound of an approaching traveler was not an auspicious sign. Many a ruffian, she knew, sought a refuge from the punishment of the law among the Tompson Mountains and the neighboring ranges with their intricate tangles of ravines.
Sadly the girl swung her mare’s head to the right. In vain Nancy tossed her head. For fear lest the mare whinny, Mary reached over and tapped the muzzle of the bay, and Nancy, as though she understood that silence was desired, merely snorted softly, and went on sullenly with ears flattened.
She was a company-loving horse, was Nancy, and she had caught the scent of companions of her own kind, no doubt, for the wind was blowing toward them from the place where Nancy had first seen the spot of light. The wind was coming toward them and it blew Mary Hood reined her horse sharply! Of all tantalizing scents in the world there is none to the hungry man like the fragrance of frying bacon, and that was the odor which came richly down the wind to Mary until her mouth watered and her brain reeled.
At once she forgot all caution. She wheeled Nancy and rode straight toward that scent. If there was danger she would meet it gladly, but first she must have some rashers of that bacon. However grim these men might be, they would not refuse a woman food.
Yet they might guess her a man, perhaps a pursuer on their trail, and so she began to call as she came closer, hallooing clearly through the woods till faint echoes came back to her from the higher slopes.
Still she saw nothing; she was riding through the utter black of the night. And then, under her very nose, some one said: “Pile up the fire again, boys. It’s a woman.”
Then a tongue of flame was uncovered - they had framed the fire with a blanket and a dry branch thrown upon it filled the wood around her with uncertain waves of light. It made the whole scene wild beyond description, but wilder than the strange old trees were the three men who now walked boldly into the light of the fire.
It was not their size that dismayed her, for though they were all stalwart six-footers they were nothing to the giant bulk of Hal Dunbar or Bull Hunter. But the faces of these men made her quake, and forgetting all thought of hunger, she wished suddenly to flee. Yet flight would be more fearful than to stay and face the danger bravely. For they were not men to be eluded if they wished for any reason to detain her.
A family likeness united the three men of the mountains. All were of one stature, tall and gaunt and wide of shoulder, powerful and tireless men, she could guess. All had streaming hair, uncut for months, and their lean faces were covered with scraggly beards. But the hair of one was gray - she guessed him to be a man of fifty - and the black-haired fellows beside him were doubtless his sons.
All three looked at her from under heavy scowling brows with little bright eyes. They were armed to the teeth with revolvers and hunting knives, and their rifles leaned against the trees around the fire in convenient reaching distance. Their gestures habitually strayed to their weapons, fondling the butts of the revolvers, or toying with the knives, or idly fumbling with the rifles.