"So yu nailed one," he said.
"He's on'y stunned--the hoss got the lead. Take charge of him. I'm goin' after his mate." He had marked down the spot where the fugitive had disappeared, and for a little while, hoofprints--the deep ones of urgent haste--helped him, and then, as he came on harder ground, a dangling, freshly-broken branch pointed the way. But no more of these tell-tale signs presented themselves, until, circling round, he found the prints again, only to lose them on the bank of a creek, thickly fringed with willow and cottonwood.
Arguing that the man would go westwards, he followed the stream in that direction, and was presently confronted by an insurmountable barrier, a wall of rock nearly thirty feet in height, over which the water cascaded in a broad sheet which the sun turned to molten silver. Trees hemmed in the fall, and for some distance from the wall, the ground was weathered stone, a surface upon which to search for tracks could only be a waste of time. In ordinary circumstances, the marshal would have admired the natural beauty of the spot, but now he surveyed it with disgust.
"Hang the luck," he muttered. "A cat couldn't climb up there, an' it's a hell of long way round, seemin'ly. Mebbe we can persuade the other jasper to talk." Convinced that he could do no more, he returned to Dave. The prisoner, who had regained consciousness, was squatting on the ground, weaponless, his elbows neatly trussed with his own rope.
"Most unsocial beggar I ever met up with," the deputy remarked. "Won't give no name, so I've christened him Pock-mark.' His hoss is unbranded, an' there's nothin' suspicious 'bout him 'cept his looks an'--this."
"A straight-iron, huh?" the marshal said. "Well, that's enough to hang him. Yu'd best find yore tongue, fella."
"What right you got to down my bronc an' tie me up?" the stranger demanded.
Sudden flipped open his vest, disclosing the badge. "Plenty," he replied. " 'Specially as yu opened the ball by tryin' to bump us off. What's yore business around here?" Receiving no reply, he added, "P'r'aps the Bar O can loosen your lips." Fear flickered in the sullen eyes, but the said lips were only clamped the tighter.
"Why bother Owen when there's a mort o' good trees right here?" Dave asked, with studied callousness. "S'pose we feed an' think it over?" Sitting a little apart, so that their conversation could not be heard, they began the meal the Widow had provided. The prisoner watched enviously.
"Don't I eat?" he asked querulously.
"Yu gotta find another use for yore mouth first," the marshal replied.
"An' remember that dyin' on an empty stomach is a mighty dangerous thing to do," Dave supplemented.
His solicitude earned him only a scowl. They finished eating, smoked a cigarette, and made a start, the prisoner walking between the riders. The sun's rays had now become shafts of fire, and since their way led across the open range, there was no respite for man or beast. Mile after mile through the blinding heat the man on foot stumbled doggedly until they had covered two-thirds of the journey, and then he dropped like a stone.
"I'm all in," he gasped, through parched, cracked lips. "Have a swig at this," Dave said, passing his water-bottle.
The sufferer drank eagerly, and after sitting for a while, stood up. Rustler or no, he was possessed of a stubborn determination, and Sudden--who had forced this ordeal upon him in the hope of breaking down his obstinacy--began to doubt its success. Fists and teeth clenched, eyes half-shut, and body limp with fatigue, the tortured man dragged one blistered foot after the other until at length the Bar O building came in sight. A hail brought the owner, Reddy, and some of the outfit.
"'Lo, marshal, what you got there?" Owen asked.
Sudden explained, and the rancher's face grew dark. "Good," he said, and turned to the prisoner. "What you gotta say?"
"Nothin'."
"Right. You've till sunrise; if you ain't opened up hy then, you swing. Lock him up, Reddy."
"Yu think he'll squeal?" Sudden asked. "That tramp would 'a' busted the nerve o' most; he's tough."
"A hemp rope is tougher," the rancher replied. "Pity the other got away."
"He certainly chose the right place," the marshal admitted, and described it.
"Ah, the Silver Mane fall, plenty o' hidin' there."
"He would 'a' tried to pot me."
"That's so. Well, I dunno how he got clear; that barrier --which we call The Step--runs for a mile or more each side o' the stream, an' she's straight up, 'cept at the south end."
"What's back of it?"
"Sort of plateau, with some biggish cracks. The Step is my western boundary; past it is Dumh-bell range, but they don't use it, the feed bein' poor." When they got up to go, the cattleman pressed them to stay the night, but Sudden shook his head.
"Gotta make a show o' earnin' our pay," he smiled.
On the way back, the marshal was unusually silent. In truth, his mind was far away on the Mexican Border. There, too, what appeared to be a simple case of cattle-rustling, had uncovered a deep-laid plot to steal a range, and he was wondering ...
Chapter IX
THE marshal and his assistant were enjoying an after-breakfast smoke when a pony scuttered to a stop outside and the Bar O foreman strode in. He had not shaved, and his customary cheerful expression was missing. Dropping into a seat, he began to construct a cigarette.
"He's gone," he announced, and added a fervent wish as to the delinquent's ultimate destination. "Helped hisself to a hoss--one o' my string, blister his hide."
"But " both the hearers began.
"Listen," he interrupted. "I left him tied as he was, locked in a cabin with a window less'n a foot square. When I goes to fetch him this mornin' the door is still fastened, but the place is empty."
"Who kept the key?"
"There ain't but one an' the 01' Man had it," Reddy replied. "An' is he wild?"
"Can't see there's anythin' to be done, but we'll come along with yu," the marshal decided.
They found the Bar O in an unwonted state of inactivity; the men were grouped round the bunkhouse discussing the mystery, and the owner was impatiently striding to and fro, awaiting Reddy's return. He welcomed the visitors with an explosive oath :
"Shinin' hell, here's a fine kettle o' fish. After all the trouble you an' Dave went to, we go an' lose the skunk, though how he got out beats me."
"Where'd yu put him?" Sudden asked.
The foreman led the way to a stout little log structure, the door of which was secured by a padlock and staple. Sudden looked closely at the latter, slipped a finger through it, pulled, and the staple came away in his hand.
"There's the key that was used," he said, pointing to a rusty iron bar lying a few yards away. "That means he had outside help. S'pose none o' yu heard anythin' in the night?" A negative came from all save one, a man nearing forty, whose dark hair and beard were patched with grey.
"Now you mention it, mister, I did hear the whicker of a hoss, but I reckoned it come from the corral," he said. "If I'd thought it was this sneakin' houn' escapin' ..."
"Shorely," Sudden agreed, and to the rancher, "No sense in keepin' yore fellas here--the bird has flown." Having despatched the men to their various duties, Reddy joined the other three indoors.
"Well, you've showed us how he got loose, but we don't know who made it possible," Owen said. "Any ideas 'bout that, Jim?"
"There's on'y two answers : either his buddy trailed us an' waited for dark, or--it was one o' yore outfit."