desert gold-第29节

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he　latter。　　Then　puffs　of　white　smoke　and　rifle　shots　faintly　crackling　told　Jim　Lash's　hand　in　the　game。　　However；　he　succeeded　only　in　driving　the　raider　back　into　the　valley。　　But　Ladd　had　turned　the　other　horseman；　and　now　it　appeared　the　two　raiders　were　between　Lash　above　on　the　stony　slope　and　Ladd　below　on　the　level。　There　was　desperate　riding　on　part　of　the　raiders　to　keep　from　being　hemmed　in　closer。　　Only　one　of　them　got　away；　and　he　came　riding　for　life　down　under　the　eastern　wall。　　Blanco　Sol　settled　into　his　graceful；　beautiful　swing。　　He　gained　steadily；　though　he　was　far　from　extending　himself。　　By　Gale's　actual　count　the　raider　fired　eight　times　in　that　race　down　the　valley；　and　all　his　bullets　went　low　and　wide。　He　pitched　the　carbine　away　and　lost　all　control　in　headlong　flight。

Some　few　hundred　rods　to　the　left　of　Gale　the　raider　put　his　horse　to　the　weathered　slope。　　He　began　to　climb。　　The　horse　was　superb；　infinitely　more　courageous　than　his　rider。　　Zigzag　they　went　up　and　up；　and　when　Ladd　reached　the　edge　of　the　slope　they　were　high　long　the　cracked　and　guttered　rampart。　　Oncetwice　Ladd　raised　the　long　rifle；　but　each　time　he　lowered　it。　　Gale　divined　that　the　ranger's　restraint　was　not　on　account　of　the　Mexican；　but　for　that　valiant　and　faithful　horse。　　Up　and　up　he　went；　and　the　yellow　dust　clouds　rose；　and　an　avalanche　rolled　rattling　and　cracking　down　the　slope。　　It　was　beyond　belief　that　a　horse；　burdened　or　unburdened；　could　find　footing　and　hold　it　upon　that　wall　of　narrow　ledges　and　inverted；　slanting　gullies。　　But　he　climbed　on；　sure…footed　as　a　mountain　goat；　and；　surmounting　the　last　rough　steps；　he　stood　a　moment　silhouetted　against　the　white　sky。　　Then　he　disappeared。　　Ladd　sat　astride　Blanco　Sol　gazing　upward。　　How　the　cowboy　must　have　honored　that　raider's　brave　steed！

Gale；　who　had　been　too　dumb　to　shout　the　admiration　he　felt；　suddenly　leaped　up；　and　his　voice　came　with　a　shriek：

〃LOOK　OUT；　LADDY！〃

A　big　horse；　like　a　white　streak；　was　bearing　down　to　the　right　of　the　ranger。　　Blanco　Diablo！　　A　matchless　rider　swung　with　the　horse's　motion。　　Gale　was　stunned。　　Then　he　remembered　the　first　raider；　the　one　Lash　had　shot　at　and　driven　away　from　the　outlet。　This　fellow　had　made　for　the　mesquite　and　had　put　a　saddle　on　Belding's　favorite。　　In　the　heat　of　the　excitement；　while　Ladd　had　been　intent　upon　the　climbing　horse；　this　last　raider　had　come　down　with　the　speed　of　the　wind　straight　for　the　western　outlet。　　Perhaps；　very　probably；　he　did　not　know　Gale　was　there　to　block　it；　and　certainly　he　hoped　to　pass　Ladd　and　Blanco　Sol。

A　touch　of　the　spur　made　Sol　lunge　forward　to　head　off　the　raider。　Diable　was　in　his　stride；　but　the　distance　and　angle　favored　Sol。　The　raider　had　no　carbine。　　He　held　aloft　a　gun　ready　to　level　it　and　fire。　　He　sat　the　saddle　as　if　it　were　a　stationary　seat。　　Gale　saw　Ladd　lean　down　and　drop　the　。405　in　the　sand。　　He　would　take　no　chances　of　wounding　Belding's　best…loved　horse。

Then　Gale　sat　transfixed　with　suspended　breath　watching　the　horses　thundering　toward　him。　　Blanco　Diablo　was　speeding　low；　fleet　as　an　antelope；　fierce　and　terrible　in　his　devilish　action；　a　horse　for　war　and　blood　and　death。　　He　seemed　unbeatable。　　Yet　to　see　the　magnificently　running　Blanco　Sol　was　but　to　court　a　doubt。　　Gale　stood　spellbound。　　He　might　have　shot　the　raider；　but　he　never　thought　of　such　a　thing。　　The　distance　swiftly　lessened。　　Plain　it　was　the　raider　could　not　make　the　opening　ahead　of　Ladd。　　He　saw　it　and　swerved　to　the　left；　emptying　his　six…shooter　as　he　turned。　His　dark　face　gleamed　as　he　flashed　by　Gale。

Blanco　Sol　thundered　across。　　Then　the　race　became　straight　away　up　the　valley。　　Diablo　was　cold　and　Sol　was　hot；　therein　lay　the　only　handicap　and　vantage。　　It　was　a　fleet；　beautiful；　magnificent　race。　　Gale　thrilled　and　exulted　and　yelled　as　his　horse　settled　into　a　steadily　swifter　run　and　began　to　gain。　　The　dust　rolled　in　a　funnel…shaped　cloud　from　the　flying　hoofs。　　The　raider　wheeled　with　gun　puffing　white；　and　Ladd　ducked　low　over　the　neck　of　his　horse。

The　gap　between　Diablo　and　Sol　narrowed　yard　by　yard。　　At　first　it　had　been　a　wide　one。　　The　raider　beat　his　mount　and　spurred；　beat　and　spurred；　wheeled　round　to　shoot；　then　bent　forward　again。　In　his　circle　at　the　upper　end　of　the　valley　he　turned　far　short　of　the　jumble　of　rocks。

All　the　devil　that　was　in　Blanco　Diablo　had　its　running　on　the　downward　stretch。　　The　strange；　cruel　urge　of　bit　and　spur；　the　crazed　rider　who　stuck　like　a　burr　upon　him；　the　shots　and　smoke　added　terror　to　his　natural　violent　temper。　　He　ran　himself　off　his　feet。　　But　he　could　not　elude　that　relentless　horse　behind　him。　The　running　of　Blanco　Sol　was　that　of　a　sure；　remorseless　driving　powersteadierstrongerswifter　with　every　long　and　wonderful　stride。

The　raider　tried　to　sheer　Diablo　off　closer　under　the　wall；　to　make　the　slope　where　his　companion　had　escaped。　　But　Diablo　was　uncontrollable。　　He　was　running　wild；　with　breaking　gait。　　Closer　and　closer　crept　that　white；　smoothly　gliding；　beautiful　machine　of　speed。

Then；　like　one　white　flash　following　another；　the　two　horses　gleamed　down　the　bank　of　a　wash　and　disappeared　in　clouds　of　dust。

Gale　watched　with　strained　and　smarting　eyes。　　The　thick　throb　in　his　ears　was　pierced　by　faint　sounds　of　gunshots。　　Then　he　waited　in　almost　unendurable　suspense。

Suddenly　something　whiter　than　the　background　of　dust　appeared　above　the　low　roll　of　valley　floor。　　Gale　leveled　his　glass。　　In　the　clear　circle　shone　Blanco　Sol's　noble　head　with　its　long　black　bar　from　ears　to　nose。　　Sol's　head　was　drooping　now。　　Another　second　showed　Ladd　still　in　the　saddle。

The　ranger　was　leading　Blanco　Diablespentbrokendragging　riderless。



IX



An　Interrupted　Siesta

No　man　ever　had　a　more　eloquent　and　beautiful　pleader　for　his　cause　than　had　Dick　Gale　in　Mercedes　Castaneda。　　He　peeped　through　the　green；　shining　twigs　of　the　palo　verde　that　shaded　his　door。　　The　hour　was　high　noon；　and　the　patio　was　sultry。　　The　only　sounds　were　the　hum　of　bees　in　the　flowers　and　the　low　murmur　of　the　Spanish　girl's　melodious　voice。　　Nell　lay　in　the　hammock；　her　hands　behind　her　head；　with　rosy　cheeks　and　arch　eyes。　　Indeed；　she　looked　rebellious。　　Certain　it　was；　Dick　reflected；　that　the　young　lady　had　fully　recovered　the　wilful　personality　which　had　lain　dormant　for　a　while。　　Equally　certain　it　seemed　that　Mercedes's　earnestness　was　not　apparently　having　the　effect　it　should　have　had。

Dick　was　inclined　to　be　rebellious　himself。　　Belding　had　kept　the　rangers　in　off　the　line；　and　therefore　Dick　had　been　idle　most　of　the　time；　and；　though　he　tried　hard；　he　had　been　unable　to　stay　far　from　Nell's　vicinity。　　He　believed　she　cared　for　him；　but　he　could　not　catch　her　alone　long　enough　to　verify　his　tormenting　hope。　　When　alone　she　was　as　illusive　as　a　shadow；　as　quick　as　a　flash；　as　mysterious　as　a　Yaqui。　　When　he　tried　to　catch　her　in　the　garden　or　fields；　or　corner　her　in　the　patio；　she　eluded　him；　and　left　behind　a　memory　of　dark…blue；　haunting　eyes。　　It　was　that　look　in　her　eyes　which　lent　him　hope。　　At　other　times；　when　it　might　have　been　possible　for　Dick　to　speak；　Nell　clung　closely　to　Mercedes。　　He　had　long　before　enlisted　the　loyal　Mercedes　in　his　cause；　but　in　spite　of　this　Nell　had　been　more　than　a　match　for　them　both。

Gale　pondered　over　an　idea　he　had　long　revolved　in　mind；　and　which　now　suddenly　gave　place　to　a　decision　that　made　his　heart　swell　and　his　cheek　burn。　　He　peeped　again　through　the　green　branches　to　see　Nell　laughing　at　the　fiery　Mercedes。

〃Qui'en　sabe；〃　he　called；　mockingly；　and　was　delighted　with　Nell's　quick；　amazed　start。

Then　he　went　in　search　of　Mrs。　Belding；　and　found　her　busy　in　the　kitchen。

The　relation　between　Gale　and　Mrs。　Belding　had　subtly　and　incomprehensively　changed。　　He　understood　her　less　than　when　at　first　he　divined　an　antagonism　in　her。　　If　such　a　thing　were　possible　she　had　retained　the　antagonism　while　seeming　to　yield　to　some　influence　that　must　have　been　fondness　for　him。　　Gale　was　in　no　wise　sure　of　her　affection；　and　he　had　long　imagined　she　was　afraid　of　him；　or　of　something　that　he　represented。　　He　had　gone　on；　openly　and　fairly；　though　discreetly；　with　his　rather　one…sided　love　affair；　and　as　time　passed　he　had　grown　less　conscious　of　what　had　seemed　her　unspoken　opposition。　　Gale　had　come　to　care　greatly　for　Nell's　mother。　　Not　only　was　she　the　comfort　and　strength　of　her　home；　but　also　of　the　inhabitants　of　Forlorn　River。　　Indian；　Mexican；　American　were　all　the　same　to　her　in　trouble　or　illness；　and　then　she　was　nurse；　doctor；　peacemaker；　helper。　　She　was　good　and　noble；　and　there　was　not　a　child　or　grownup　in　Forlorn　River　who　did　not　love　and　bless　her。　　But　Mrs。　Belding　did　not　seem　happy。　　She　was　brooding；　intense；　deep；　strong；　eager　for　the　happiness　and　welfare　of　others；　and　she　was　dominated　by　a　worship　of　her　daughter　that　was　as　strange　as　it　was　pathetic。　　Mrs。　Belding　seldom　smiled；　and　never　laughed。　There　was　always　a　soft；　sad；　hurt　look　in　her　eyes。　　Gale　often　wondered　if　there　had　been　other　tragedy　in　her　life　than　the　supposed　loss　of　her　father　in　the　desert。　　Perhaps　it　was　the　very　unsolved　nat