desert gold-第20节

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This　young　man　was　Dick　Gale；　but　not　the　listless　traveler；　nor　the　lounging　wanderer　who；　two　months　before；　had　by　chance　dropped　into　Casita。　　Friendship；　chivalry；　lovethe　deep…seated；　unplumbed　emotions　that　had　been　stirred　into　being　with　all　their　incalculable　power　for　spiritual　change；　had　rendered　different　the　meaning　of　life。　　In　the　moment　almost　of　their　realization　the　desert　had　claimed　Gale；　and　had　drawn　him　into　its　crucible。　　The　desert　had　multiplied　weeks　into　years。　　Heat；　thirst；　hunger；　loneliness；　toil；　fear；　ferocity；　painhe　knew　them　all。　　He　had　felt　them　allthe　white　sun；　with　its　glazed；　coalescing；　lurid　fire；　the　caked　split　lips　and　rasping；　dry…puffed　tongue；　the　sickening　ache　in　the　pit　of　his　stomach；　the　insupportable　silence；　the　empty　space；　the　utter　desolation；　the　contempt　of　life；　the　weary　ride；　the　long　climb；　the　plod　in　sand；　the　search；　search；　search　for　water；　the　sleepless　night　alone；　the　watch　and　wait；　the　dread　of　ambush；　the　swift　flight；　the　fierce　pursuit　of　men　wild　as　Bedouins　and　as　fleet；　the　willingness　to　deal　sudden　death；　the　pain　of　poison　thorn；　the　stinging　tear　of　lead　through　flesh；　and　that　strange　paradox　of　the　burning　desert；　the　cold　at　night；　the　piercing　icy　wind；　the　dew　that　penetrated　to　the　marrow；　the　numbing　desert　cold　of　the　dawn。

Beyond　any　dream　of　adventure　he　had　ever　had；　beyond　any　wild　story　he　had　every　read；　had　been　his　experience　with　those　hard…riding　rangers；　Ladd　and　Lash。　　Then　he　had　traveled　alone　the　hundred　miles　of　desert　between　Forlorn　River　and　the　Sonoyta　Oasis。　　Ladd's　prophecy　of　trouble　on　the　border　had　been　mild　compared　to　what　had　become　the　actuality。　　With　rebel　occupancy　of　the　garrison　at　Casita；　outlaws；　bandits；　raiders　in　rioting　bands　had　spread　westward。　　Like　troops　of　Arabs；　magnificently　mounted；　they　were　here；　there；　everywhere　along　the　line；　and　if　murder　and　worse　were　confined　to　the　Mexican　side；　pillage　and　raiding　were　perpetrated　across　the　border。　　Many　a　dark…skinned　raider　bestrode　one　of　Belding's　fast　horses；　and　indeed　all　except　his　selected　white　thoroughbreds　had　been　stolen。　　So　the　job　of　the　rangers　had　become　more　than　a　patrolling　of　the　boundary　line　to　keep　Japanese　and　Chinese　from　being　smuggled　into　the　United　States。　　Belding　kept　close　at　home　to　protect　his　family　and　to　hold　his　property。　But　the　three　rangers；　in　fulfilling　their　duty　had　incurred　risks　on　their　own　side　of　the　line；　had　been　outraged；　robbed；　pursued；　and　injured　on　the　other。　　Some　of　the　few　waterholes　that　had　to　be　reached　lay　far　across　the　border　in　Mexican　territory。　Horses　had　to　drink；　men　had　to　drink；　and　Ladd　and　Lash　were　not　of　the　stripe　that　forsook　a　task　because　of　danger。　　Slow　to　wrath　at　first；　as　became　men　who　had　long　lived　peaceful　lives；　they　had　at　length　revolted；　and　desert　vultures　could　have　told　a　gruesome　story。　　Made　a　comrade　and　ally　of　these　bordermen；　Dick　Gale　had　leaped　at　the　desert　action　and　strife　with　an　intensity　of　heart　and　a　rare　physical　ability　which　accounted　for　the　remarkable　fact　that　he　had　not　yet　fallen　by　the　way。

On　this　December　afternoon　the　three　rangers；　as　often；　were　separated。　　Lash　was　far　to　the　westward　of　Sonoyta；　somewhere　along　Camino　del　Diablo；　that　terrible　Devil's　Road；　where　many　desert　wayfarers　had　perished。　　Ladd　had　long　been　overdue　in　a　prearranged　meeting　with　Gale。　　The　fact　that　Ladd　had　not　shown　up　miles　west　of　the　Papago　Well　was　significant。

The　sun　had　hidden　behind　clouds　all　the　latter　part　of　that　day；　an　unusual　occurrence　for　that　region　even　in　winter。　　And　now；　as　the　light　waned　suddenly；　telling　of　the　hidden　sunset；　a　cold　dry；　penetrating　wind　sprang　up　and　blew　in　Gale's　face。　　Not　at　first；　but　by　imperceptible　degrees　it　chilled　him。　　He　untied　his　coat　from　the　back　of　the　saddle　and　put　it　on。　　A　few　cold　drops　of　rain　touched　his　cheek。

He　halted　upon　the　edge　of　a　low　escarpment。　　Below　him　the　narrowing　valley　showed　bare；　black　ribs　of　rock；　long；　winding　gray　lines　leading　down　to　a　central　floor　where　mesquite　and　cactus　dotted　the　barren　landscape。　　Moving　objects；　diminutive　in　size；　gray　and　white　in　color；　arrested　Gale's　roving　sight。　They　bobbed　away　for　a　while；　then　stopped。　　They　were　antelope；　and　they　had　seen　his　horse。　　When　he　rode　on　they　started　once　more；　keeping　to　the　lowest　level。　　These　wary　animals　were　often　desert　watchdogs　for　the　ranger；　they　would　betray　the　proximity　of　horse　or　man。　　With　them　trotting　forward；　he　made　better　time　for　some　miles　across　the　valley。　　When　he　lost　them；　caution　once　more　slowed　his　advance。

The　valley　sloped　up　and　narrowed；　to　head　into　an　arroyo　where　grass　began　to　show　gray　between　the　clumps　of　mesquite。　　Shadows　formed　ahead　in　the　hollows；　along　the　walls　of　the　arroyo；　under　the　trees；　and　they　seemed　to　creep；　to　rise；　to　float　into　a　veil　cast　by　the　background　of　bold　mountains；　at　last　to　claim　the　skyline。　　Night　was　not　close　at　hand；　but　it　was　there　in　the　east；　lifting　upward；　drooping　downward；　encroaching　upon　the　west。

Gale　dismounted　to　lead　his　horse；　to　go　forward　more　slowly。　　He　had　ridden　sixty　miles　since　morning；　and　he　was　tired；　and　a　not　entirely　healed　wound　in　his　hip　made　one　leg　drag　a　little。　　A　mile　up　the　arroyo；　near　its　head；　lay　the　Papago　Well。　　The　need　of　water　for　his　horse　entailed　a　risk　that　otherwise　he　could　have　avoided。　　The　well　was　on　Mexican　soil。　　Gale　distinguished　a　faint　light　flickering　through　the　thin；　sharp　foliage。　　Campers　were　at　the　well；　and；　whoever　they　were；　no　doubt　they　had　prevented　Ladd　from　meeting　Gale。　　Ladd　had　gone　back　to　the　next　waterhole；　or　maybe　he　was　hiding　in　an　arroyo　to　the　eastward；　awaiting　developments。

Gale　turned　his　horse；　not　without　urge　of　iron　arm　and　persuasive　speech；　for　the　desert　steed　scented　water；　and　plodded　back　to　the　edge　of　the　arroyo；　where　in　a　secluded　circle　of　mesquite　he　halted。　The　horse　snorted　his　relief　at　the　removal　of　the　heavy；　burdened　saddle　and　accoutrements；　and　sagging；　bent　his　knees；　lowered　himself　with　slow　heave；　and　plunged　down　to　roll　in　the　sand。　　Gale　poured　the　contents　of　his　larger　canteen　into　his　hat　and　held　it　to　the　horse's　nose。

〃Drink；　Sol；〃　he　said。

It　was　but　a　drop　for　a　thirsty　horse。　　However；　Blanco　Sol　rubbed　a　west　muzzle　against　Gale's　hand　in　appreciation。　　Gale　loved　the　horse；　and　was　loved　in　return。　　They　had　saved　each　other's　lives；　and　had　spent　long　days　and　nights　of　desert　solitude　together。　Sol　had　known　other　masters；　though　none　so　kind　as　this　new　one；　but　it　was　certain　that　Gale　had　never　before　known　a　horse。

The　spot　of　secluded　ground　was　covered　with　bunches　of　galleta　grass　upon　which　Sol　began　to　graze。　　Gale　made　a　long　halter　of　his　lariat　to　keep　the　horse　from　wandering　in　search　of　water。　Next　Gale　kicked　off　the　cumbersome　chapparejos；　with　their　flapping；　tripping　folds　of　leather　over　his　feet；　and　drawing　a　long　rifle　from　its　leather　sheath；　he　slipped　away　into　the　shadows。

The　coyotes　were　howling；　not　here　and　there；　but　in　concerted　volume　at　the　head　of　the　arroyo。　　To　Dick　this　was　no　more　reassuring　than　had　been　the　flickering　light　of　the　campfire。　　The　wild　desert　dogs；　with　their　characteristic　insolent　curiosity；　were　baying　men　round　a　campfire。　　Gale　proceeded　slowly；　halting　every　few　steps；　careful　not　to　brush　against　the　stiff　greasewood。　　In　the　soft　sand　his　steps　made　no　sound。　　The　twinkling　light　vanished　occasionally；　like　a　Jack…o'lantern；　and　when　it　did　show　it　seemed　still　a　long　way　off。　　Gale　was　not　seeking　trouble　or　inviting　danger。　　Water　was　the　thing　that　drove　him。　　He　must　see　who　these　campers　were；　and　then　decide　how　to　give　Blanco　Sol　a　drink。

A　rabbit　rustled　out　of　brush　at　Gale's　feet　and　thumped　away　over　the　sand。　　The　wind　pattered　among　dry；　broken　stalks　of　dead　ocatilla。　　Every　little　sound　brought　Gale　to　a　listening　pause。　　The　gloom　was　thickening　fast　into　darkness。　　It　would　be　a　night　without　starlight。　　He　moved　forward　up　the　pale；　zigzag　aisles　between　the　mesquite。　　He　lost　the　light　for　a　while；　but　the　coyotes'　chorus　told　him　he　was　approaching　the　campfire。　　Presently　the　light　danced　through　the　black　branches；　and　soon　grew　into　a　flame。　　Stooping　low；　with　bushy　mesquites　between　him　and　the　fire；　Gale　advanced。　　The　coyotes　were　in　full　cry。　　Gale　heard　the　tramping；　stamping　thumps　of　many　hoofs。　　The　sound　worried　him。　　Foot　by　foot　he　advanced；　and　finally　began　to　crawl。　　The　wind　favored　his　position；　so　that　neither　coyotes　nor　horses　could　scent　him。　　The　nearer　he　approached　the　head　of　the　arroyo；　where　the　well　was　located；　the　thicker　grew　the　desert　vegetation。　　At　length　a　dead　palo　verde；　with　huge　black　clumps　of　its　parasite　mistletoe　thick　in　the　branches；　marked　a　distance　from　the　well　that　Gale　considered　close　enough。　　Noiselessly　he　crawled　here　and　there　until　he　secured　a　favorable　position；　and　then　rose　to　peep　from　behind　his　covert。

He　saw　a　bright　fire；　not　a　cooking…fire；　for　that　would　have　been　low　and　red；　but　a　crackling　blaze　of　mesquite。　　Three　men　were　in　sight；　all　close　to　the　burning　sticks。　　They