The man betrayed his location by another shot, the bullet going high through the trees, the roar of the gun for a moment drowning out all other sounds. Then, while the gun echoes were still reverberating from the crags, the dropping of small branches and pine needles dislodged by the bullet sounded startlingly clear.
“What the heck’s he shooting at?” the sheriff asked.
Frank Ames said cautiously, “I’m over here, sheriff, behind this tree.”
“Swing around, Olney,” the sheriff said. “Cut off his escape. He’s up against a sheer cliff in back. We can trap him in here.”
By this time the others were trooping up from camp, and the sheriff stationed them along the trail. “I’m closing a circle around this place,” the sheriff said. “Just yell if you see him, that’s all.”
Bill Eldon became coldly efficient. “Where are you, Ames?”
“Over here.”
Eldon raised his voice. “Any of you from the camp got a gun on you?”
“I have,” one of the wranglers said.
“All right,” the sheriff announced. “That’s four of us. If we go in after that man, he can’t escape. He could make his way up that high cliff if he had time, but he’ll make a lot of noise doing it and expose himself to our fire. He’s only safe as long as he stays in this clump of trees. We have men stationed along the trail who can let us know if he breaks cover in that direction. The four of us can flush him out. Anyone have any objections? You don’t have to go, you know.”
“Not me,” the wrangler said. “I’ll ride along with you.”
The silence of the others indicated that the sheriff’s question could have had significance for only the wrangler.
“Let’s go,” Bill Eldon said. “Keep in touch with each other. Walk abreast. We’ll force him to surrender, to stand and fight it out, or to try climbing that steep cliff. When you see him, if he hasn’t got his hands up, shoot to kill.”
The sheriff raised his voice, said, “We’re coming in. Drop your gun, get your hands up and surrender!”
There was no sound from the oval-shaped thicket at the base of the big cliff which walled it in as something of an amphitheater.
Bill Eldon said to the ranger, “We’re dealing with a man who’s a tricky woodsman. Be on your toes; let’s go!”
A tense silence fell upon the mountain amphitheater where the grim drama was being played. Overhead the stars shone silent and steady, but within the thicket of pines was an inky darkness.
The men advanced for a few feet. Then Bill Eldon said, “We’re going to need a flashlight, folks.”
“Don’t try it. It’ll be suicide,” Ames said. “He’ll shoot at the flashlight and—”
“Just hold everything,” the sheriff said. “Hold this line right here.”
Eldon walked back to his saddlebags, took out a powerful flashlight which fastened on his forehead. A square battery hung over his back, held in place by a harness, leaving his hands free to work his rifle.
The sheriff said reassuringly, “If he starts shooting, I can switch this off.”
“Not after you’re dead, you can’t,” Frank Ames said.
“It’s a chance I have to take,” Eldon said. “That’s a part of my job. You folks keep back to one side.”
Eldon switched on the flashlight. The beam cut through the darkness, into the pine trees, a pencil of light, terminating in a splash of brilliance.
The sheriff kept slightly forward, away from the others, his rifle ready. He kept turning his head slowly, searching the long lanes of pine trees until at length he suddenly snapped the gun forward and held it steady.
The beam of the flashlight showed a gun, neatly propped against a tree.
“Now, what the heck do you make of that?” Olney asked.
“Reckon he’s going to give himself up,” the wrangler from the dude camp said, and called out, “Get your hands up or we’ll shoot!”
There was no answer.
They advanced to where the gun was leaning against the tree.
“Don’t touch it!” the sheriff said. “We’ll look it over for fingerprints. He must have been standing right behind that rock. You can see the empty shells around on the ground.”
“Have you got him?” a voice called from the trail.
“Not yet,” Eldon said.
“What the devil’s all this about?” stormed H. W. Dowling, crashing in behind the searching party. “I demand to know the reason for all these—”
“Get back out of the way!” Eldon said. “There’s a desperate man in here. You’ll be shot.”
“A sweet howdy-do,” Dowling said. “What the devil’s the matter with the law-enforcement officers in this county? Can’t I organize a camping trip into the mountains without having someone turn it into a Wild West show? My sleep’s gone for the night now. I— The whole camp pulled out on me. I had to run—”
Sheriff Eldon said grimly, “We can’t pick the places where murderers are going to strike. All we can do is try and capture the criminals so men like you will be safe. Okay, boys, let’s go. I think he’s out of shells. Do you remember, that last shot went high through the trees?”
“I’d been wondering about that,” Ames said. “What was he shooting at?”
“We’ll find out,” the sheriff said, “when we get him.”
They moved forward. Then, as the thicket of trees narrowed against the perpendicular cliff, they closed in compact formation until finally they had covered the entire ground.
“Well, I’ll be darned!” Olney said. “He’s managed to get up those cliffs.”
“Or out to the trail,” Eldon said.
He moved out from the protection of the trees, moved his head slowly so that his beam covered the precipitous mountainside. “Don’t see anything of him up there. Don’t hear anything,” he said. “I told you he was a clever woodsman. Let’s get over and see if anyone saw him cut across the trail.”
They moved back to the trail where the shivering dudes, the cook and the outfitter were spaced at regular intervals. “Anybody come through here?” the sheriff asked.
“No one,” they said. “We could see well enough—”
“He might have been pretty clever,” the sheriff said, “might have worked into the shadows.”
He moved slowly along, looking for tracks on the trail.
“What this country needs is more efficiency!” Dowling growled sullenly.
“Well, I missed him,” Eldon said resignedly. “Let’s go on back to camp. If he got through our lines, and abandoned an empty gun, it’s possible he’s planning to go down and raid your camp for another gun.”
Eldon untied his horse, swung into the saddle, said, “I’ll go on ahead on a gallop so as to beat him to it.”
Olney mounted his own horse, followed the sheriff.
“You folks come on,” Bill Eldon called over his shoulder.
The huddled group watched the shadowy figures gallop on down the trail.
Dowling said, “I want you boys to organize a guard for our camp tonight. I don’t like the idea of a murderer being loose. Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Roberta and Frank managed by some unspoken understanding to wait behind until the others had gone.
“You’re not hurt?” Frank asked.
“No.”
“What happened? How did you run onto him?”
“He was — I don’t know, he was just loitering there in the shadows. I got a vague, indistinct glimpse of head and shoulders and—”
“I know,” Ames said. “I heard that peculiar whistle you were telling about, so I turned and came back. He shot and I saw you fall—”
“I fell just before he shot,” Roberta said. “I stumbled. The bullet grazed my hair.”
“What I don’t understand is how you happened to be out on the trail. You’d gone into your tent and blown out the candle,” Ames said.