riders of the purple sage-第45节

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le　at　night　would　be　useless；　Venters　repaired　to　the　shelving　rock　where　he　had　hidden　saddle　and　blanket；　and　there　went　to　sleep。

The　first　peep　of　day　found　him　stirring；　and　as　soon　as　it　was　light　enough　to　distinguish　objects；　he　took　his　lasso　off　his　saddle　and　went　out　to　rope　the　sorrel。　He　espied　Wrangle　at　the　lower　end　of　the　cove　and　approached　him　in　a　perfectly　natural　manner。　When　he　got　near　enough；　Wrangle　evidently　recognized　him；　but　was　too　wild　to　stand。　He　ran　up　the　glade　and　on　into　the　narrow　lane　between　the　walls。　This　favored　Venters's　speedy　capture　of　the　horse；　so；　coiling　his　noose　ready　to　throw；　he　hurried　on。　Wrangle　let　Venters　get　to　within　a　hundred　feet　and　then　he　broke。　But　as　he　plunged　by；　rapidly　getting　into　his　stride；　Venters　made　a　perfect　throw　with　the　rope。　He　had　time　to　brace　himself　for　the　shock；　nevertheless；　Wrangle　threw　him　and　dragged　him　several　yards　before　halting。

〃You　wild　devil；〃　said　Venters；　as　he　slowly　pulled　Wrangle　up。　〃Don't　you　know　me？　Come　nowold　fellowsoso〃

Wrangle　yielded　to　the　lasso　and　then　to　Venters's　strong　hand。　He　was　as　straggly　and　wild…looking　as　a　horse　left　to　roam　free　in　the　sage。　He　dropped　his　long　ears　and　stood　readily　to　be　saddled　and　bridled。　But　he　was　exceedingly　sensitive；　and　quivered　at　every　touch　and　sound。　Venters　led　him　to　the　thicket；　and；　bending　the　close　saplings　to　let　him　squeeze　through；　at　length　reached　the　open。　Sharp　survey　in　each　direction　assured　him　of　the　usual　lonely　nature　of　the　canyon；　then　he　was　in　the　saddle；　riding　south。

Wrangle's　long；　swinging　canter　was　a　wonderful　ground…gainer。　His　stride　was　almost　twice　that　of　an　ordinary　horse；　and　his　endurance　was　equally　remarkable。　Venters　pulled　him　in　occasionally；　and　walked　him　up　the　stretches　of　rising　ground　and　along　the　soft　washes。　Wrangle　had　never　yet　shown　any　indication　of　distress　while　Venters　rode　him。　Nevertheless；　there　was　now　reason　to　save　the　horse；　therefore　Venters　did　not　resort　to　the　hurry　that　had　characterized　his　former　trip。　He　camped　at　the　last　water　in　the　Pass。　What　distance　that　was　to　Cottonwoods　he　did　not　know；　he　calculated；　however；　that　it　was　in　the　neighborhood　of　fifty　miles。

Early　in　the　morning　he　proceeded　on　his　way；　and　about　the　middle　of　the　forenoon　reached　the　constricted　gap　that　marked　the　southerly　end　of　the　Pass；　and　through　which　led　the　trail　up　to　the　sage…level。　He　spied　out　Lassiter's　tracks　in　the　dust；　but　no　others；　and　dismounting；　he　straightened　out　Wrangle's　bridle　and　began　to　lead　him　up　the　trail。　The　short　climb；　more　severe　on　beast　than　on　man；　necessitated　a　rest　on　the　level　above；　and　during　this　he　scanned　the　wide　purple　reaches　of　slope。

Wrangle　whistled　his　pleasure　at　the　smell　of　the　sage。　Remounting；　Venters　headed　up　the　white　trail　with　the　fragrant　wind　in　his　face。　He　had　proceeded　for　perhaps　a　couple　of　miles　when　Wrangle　stopped　with　a　suddenness　that　threw　Venters　heavily　against　the　pommel。

〃What's　wrong；　old　boy？〃　called　Venters；　looking　down　for　a　loose　shoe　or　a　snake　or　a　foot　lamed　by　a　picked…up　stone。　Unrewarded；　he　raised　himself　from　his　scrutiny。　Wrangle　stood　stiff　head　high；　with　his　long　ears　erect。　Thus　guided；　Venters　swiftly　gazed　ahead　to　make　out　a　dust…clouded；　dark　group　of　horsemen　riding　down　the　slope。　If　they　had　seen　him；　it　apparently　made　no　difference　in　their　speed　or　direction。

〃Wonder　who　they　are！〃　exclaimed　Venters。　He　was　not　disposed　to　run。　His　cool　mood　tightened　under　grip　of　excitement　as　he　reflected　that；　whoever　the　approaching　riders　were；　they　could　not　be　friends。　He　slipped　out　of　the　saddle　and　led　Wrangle　behind　the　tallest　sage…brush。　It　might　serve　to　conceal　them　until　the　riders　were　close　enough　for　him　to　see　who　they　were；　after　that　he　would　be　indifferent　to　how　soon　they　discovered　him。

After　looking　to　his　rifle　and　ascertaining　that　it　was　in　working　order；　he　watched；　and　as　he　watched；　slowly　the　force　of　a　bitter　fierceness；　long　dormant；　gathered　ready　to　flame　into　life。　If　those　riders　were　not　rustlers　he　had　forgotten　how　rustlers　looked　and　rode。　On　they　came；　a　small　group；　so　compact　and　dark　that　he　could　not　tell　their　number。　How　unusual　that　their　horses　did　not　see　Wrangle！　But　such　failure；　Venters　decided；　was　owing　to　the　speed　with　which　they　were　traveling。　They　moved　at　a　swift　canter　affected　more　by　rustlers　than　by　riders。　Venters　grew　concerned　over　the　possibility　that　these　horsemen　would　actually　ride　down　on　him　before　he　had　a　chance　to　tell　what　to　expect。　When　they　were　within　three　hundred　yards　he　deliberately　led　Wrangle　out　into　the　trail。

Then　he　heard　shouts；　and　the　hard　scrape　of　sliding　hoofs；　and　saw　horses　rear　and　plunge　back　with　up…flung　heads　and　flying　manes。　Several　little　white　puffs　of　smoke　appeared　sharply　against　the　black　background　of　riders　and　horses；　and　shots　rang　out。　Bullets　struck　far　in　front　of　Venters；　and　whipped　up　the　dust　and　then　hummed　low　into　the　sage。　The　range　was　great　for　revolvers；　but　whether　the　shots　were　meant　to　kill　or　merely　to　check　advance；　they　were　enough　to　fire　that　waiting　ferocity　in　Venters。　Slipping　his　arm　through　the　bridle；　so　that　Wrangle　could　not　get　away；　Venters　lifted　his　rifle　and　pulled　the　trigger　twice。

He　saw　the　first　horseman　lean　sideways　and　fall。　He　saw　another　lurch　in　his　saddle　and　heard　a　cry　of　pain。　Then　Wrangle；　plunging　in　fright；　lifted　Venters　and　nearly　threw　him。　He　jerked　the　horse　down　with　a　powerful　hand　and　leaped　into　the　saddle。　Wrangle　plunged　again；　dragging　his　bridle；　that　Venters　had　not　had　time　to　throw　in　place。　Bending　over　with　a　swift　movement；　he　secured　it　and　dropped　the　loop　over　the　pommel。　Then；　with　grinding　teeth；　he　looked　to　see　what　the　issue　would　be。

The　band　had　scattered　so　as　not　to　afford　such　a　broad　mark　for　bullets。　The　riders　faced　Venters；　some　with　red…belching　guns。　He　heard　a　sharper　report；　and　just　as　Wrangle　plunged　again　he　caught　the　whim　of　a　leaden　missile　that　would　have　hit　him　but　for　Wrangle's　sudden　jump。　A　swift；　hot　wave；　turning　cold；　passed　over　Venters。　Deliberately　he　picked　out　the　one　rider　with　a　carbine；　and　killed　him。　Wrangle　snorted　shrilly　and　bolted　into　the　sage。　Venters　let　him　run　a　few　rods；　then　with　iron　arm　checked　him。

Five　riders；　surely　rustlers；　were　left。　One　leaped　out　of　the　saddle　to　secure　his　fallen　comrade's　carbine。　A　shot　from　Venters；　which　missed　the　man　but　sent　the　dust　flying　over　him　made　him　run　back　to　his　horse。　Then　they　separated。　The　crippled　rider　went　one　way；　the　one　frustrated　in　his　attempt　to　get　the　carbine　rode　another；　Venters　thought　he　made　out　a　third　rider；　carrying　a　strange…appearing　bundle　and　disappearing　in　the　sage。　But　in　the　rapidity　of　action　and　vision　he　could　not　discern　what　it　was。　Two　riders　with　three　horses　swung　out　to　the　right。　Afraid　of　the　long　riflea　burdensome　weapon　seldom　carried　by　rustlers　or　ridersthey　had　been　put　to　rout。

Suddenly　Venters　discovered　that　one　of　the　two　men　last　noted　was　riding　Jane　Withersteen's　horse　Bellsthe　beautiful　bay　racer　she　had　given　to　Lassiter。　Venters　uttered　a　savage　outcry。　Then　the　small；　wiry；　frog…like　shape　of　the　second　rider；　and　the　ease　and　grace　of　his　seat　in　the　saddlethings　so　strikingly　incongruousgrew　more　and　more　familiar　in　Venters's　sight。

〃Jerry　Card！〃　cried　Venters。

It　was　indeed　Tull's　right…hand　man。　Such　a　white　hot　wrath　inflamed　Venters　that　he　fought　himself　to　see　with　clearer　gaze。

〃It's　Jerry　Card！〃　he　exclaimed；　instantly。　〃And　he's　riding　Black　Star　and　leading　Night！〃

The　long…kindling；　stormy　fire　in　Venters's　heart　burst　into　flame。　He　spurred　Wrangle；　and　as　the　horse　lengthened　his　stride　Venters　slipped　cartridges　into　the　magazine　of　his　rifle　till　it　was　once　again　full。　Card　and　his　companion　were　now　half　a　mile　or　more　in　advance；　riding　easily　down　the　slope。　Venters　marked　the　smooth　gait；　and　understood　it　when　Wrangle　galloped　out　of　the　sage　into　the　broad　cattle　trail；　down　which　Venters　had　once　tracked　Jane　Withersteen's　red　herd。　This　hard…packed　trail；　from　years　of　use；　was　as　clean　and　smooth　as　a　road。　Venters　saw　Jerry　Card　look　back　over　his　shoulder；　the　other　rider　did　likewise。　Then　the　three　racers　lengthened　their　stride　to　the　point　where　the　swinging　canter　was　ready　to　break　into　a　gallop。

〃Wrangle；　the　race's　on；〃　said　Venters；　grimly。　〃We'll　canter　with　them　and　gallop　with　them　and　run　with　them。　We'll　let　them　set　the　pace。〃

Venters　knew　he　bestrode　the　strongest；　swiftest；　most　tireless　horse　ever　ridden　by　any　rider　across　the　Utah　uplands。　Recalling　Jane　Withersteen's　devoted　assurance　that　Night　could　run　neck　and　neck　with　Wrangle；　and　Black　Star　could　show　his　heels　to　him；　Venters　wished　that　Jane　were　there　to　see　the　race　to　recover　her　blacks　and　in　the　unqualified　superiority　of　the　giant　sorrel。　Then　Venters　found　himself　thankful　that　she　was　absent；　for　he　meant　that　race　to　end　in　Jerry　Card's　death。　The　first　flush；　the　raging　of　Venters's　wrath；　passed；　to　leave　him　in　sullen；　almost　cold　possession　of　his　will。　It　was　a　deadly　mood；　utterly　foreign　to　his　na