the last of the plainsmen-第17节

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　Satan；　with　a　presence　of　mind　that　shamed　mine；　leaped　back　and　hugged　the　wall。　My　eyes　were　blinded　by　dust；　the　smell　of　dust　choked　me。　I　felt　a　strong　rush　of　wind　and　a　mustang　grazed　my　stirrup。　Then　they　had　passed；　on　the　wings　of　the　dust…laden　breeze。

But　not　all；　for　I　saw　that　Jones　had；　in　some　inexplicable　manner；　cut　the　White　Mustang　and　two　of　his　blacks　out　of　the　band。　He　had　turned　them　back　again　and　was　pursuing　them。　The　bay　he　rode　had　never　before　appeared　to　much　advantage；　and　now；　with　his　long；　lean；　powerful　body　in　splendid　action；　imbued　with　the　relentless　will　of　his　rider；　what　a　picture　he　presented！　How　he　did　run！　With　all　that；　the　White　Mustang　made　him　look　dingy　and　slow。　Nevertheless；　it　was　a　critical　time　in　the　wild　career　of　that　king　of　horses。　He　had　been　penned　in　a　space　two　hundred　by　five　hundred　yards；　half　of　which　was　separated　from　him　by　a　wide　ditch；　a　yawning　chasm　that　he　had　refused；　and　behind　him；　always　keeping　on　the　inside；　wheeled　the　yelling　hunter；　who　savagely　spurred　his　bay　and　whirled　a　deadly　lasso。　He　had　been　cut　off　and　surrounded；　the　very　nature　of　the　rocks　and　trails　of　the　canyon　threatened　to　end　his　freedom　or　his　life。　Certain　it　was　he　preferred　to　end　the　latter；　for　he　risked　death　from　the　rocks　as　he　went　over　them　in　long　leaps。

Jones　could　have　roped　either　of　the　two　blacks；　but　he　hardly　noticed　them。　Covered　with　dust　and　splotches　of　foam；　they　took　their　advantage；　turned　on　the　circle　toward　the　passage　way　and　galloped　by　me　out　of　sight。　Again　Wallace；　Frank　and　Jim　let　out　strings　of　yells　and　volleys。　The　chase　was　narrowing　down。　Trapped；　the　White　Mustang　King　had　no　chance。　What　a　grand　spirit　he　showed！　Frenzied　as　I　was　with　excitement；　the　thought　occurred　to　me　that　this　was　an　unfair　battle；　that　I　ought　to　stand　aside　and　let　him　pass。　But　the　blood　and　lust　of　primitive　instinct　held　me　fast。　Jones；　keeping　back；　met　his　every　turn。　Yet　always　with　lithe　and　beautiful　stride　the　stallion　kept　out　of　reach　of　the　whirling　lariat。

〃Close　in！〃　yelled　Jones；　and　his　voice；　powerful　with　a　note　of　triumph；　bespoke　the　knell　of　the　king's　freedom。

The　trap　closed　in。　Back　and　forth　at　the　upper　end　the　White　Mustang　worked；　then　rendered　desperate　by　the　closing　in；　he　circled　round　nearer　to　me。　Fire　shone　in　his　wild　eyes。　The　wily　Jones　was　not　to　be　outwitted；　he　kept　in　the　middle；　always　on　the　move；　and　he　yelled　to　me　to　open　up。

I　lost　my　voice　again；　and　fired　my　last　shot。　Then　the　White　Mustang　burst　into　a　dash　of　daring；　despairing　speed。　It　was　his　last　magnificent　effort。　Straight　for　the　wash　at　the　upper　end　he　pointed　his　racy；　spirited　head；　and　his　white　legs　stretched　far　apart；　twinkled　and　stretched　again。　Jones　galloped　to　cut　him　off；　and　the　yells　he　emitted　were　demoniacal。　It　was　a　long；　straight　race　for　the　mustang；　a　short　curve　for　the　bay。

That　the　white　stallion　gained　was　as　sure　as　his　resolve　to　elude　capture；　and　he　never　swerved　a　foot　from　his　course。　Jones　might　have　headed　him；　but　manifestly　he　wanted　to　ride　with　him；　as　well　as　to　meet　him；　so　in　case　the　lasso　went　true；　a　terrible　shock　might　be　averted。

Up　went　Jones's　arm　as　the　space　shortened；　and　the　lasso　ringed　his　head。　Out　it　shot；　lengthened　like　a　yellow；　striking　snake；　and　fell　just　short　of　the　flying　white　tail。

The　White　Mustang；　fulfilling　his　purpose　in　a　last　heroic　display　of　power；　sailed　into　the　air；　up　and　up；　and　over　the　wide　wash　like　a　white　streak。　Free！　the　dust　rolled　in　a　cloud　from　under　his　hoofs；　and　he　vanished。

Jones's　superb　horse；　crashing　down　on　his　haunches；　just　escaped　sliding　into　the　hole。

I　awoke　to　the　realization　that　Satan　had　carried　me；　in　pursuit　of　the　thrilling　chase；　all　the　way　across　the　circle　without　my　knowing　it。

Jones　calmly　wiped　the　sweat　from　his　face；　calmly　coiled　his　lasso；　and　calmly　remarked：

〃In　trying　to　capture　wild　animals　a　man　must　never　be　too　sure。　Now　what　I　thought　my　strong　point　was　my　weak　pointthe　wash。　I　made　sure　no　horse　could　ever　jump　that　hole。〃



CHAPTER　8。　SNAKE　GULCH

Not　far　from　the　scene　of　our　adventure　with　the　White　Streak　as　we　facetious　and　appreciatively　named　the　mustang；　deep；　flat　cave　indented　the　canyon　wall。　By　reason　of　its　sandy　floor　and　close　proximity　to　Frank's　trickling　spring；　we　decided　to　camp　in　it。　About　dawn　Lawson　and　Stewart　straggled　in　on　spent　horse　and　found　awaiting　them　a　bright　fire；　a　hot　supper　and　cheery　comrades。

〃Did　yu　fellars　git　to　see　him？〃　was　the　ranger's　first　question。

〃Did　we　get　to　see　him？〃　echoed　five　lusty　voice　as　one。　〃We　did！〃

It　was　after　Frank；　in　his　plain；　blunt　speech　had　told　of　our　experience；　that　the　long　Arizonian　gazed　fixedly　at　Jones。

〃Did　yu　acktully　tech　the　hair　of　thet　mustang　with　a　rope？〃

In　all　his　days　Jones　never　had　a　greater　complement。　By　way　of　reply；　he　moved　his　big　hand　to　button　of　his　coat；　and；　fumbling　over　it；　unwound　a　string　of　long；　white　hairs；　then　said：　〃I　pulled　these　out　of　his　tail　with　my　lasso；　it　missed　his　left　hind　hoof　about　six　inches。〃

There　were　six　of　the　hairs；　pure；　glistening　white；　and　over　three　feet　long。　Stewart　examined　then　in　expressive　silence；　then　passed　them　along；　and　when　they　reached　me；　they　stayed。

The　cave；　lighted　up　by　a　blazing　fire；　appeared　to　me　a　forbidding；　uncanny　place。　Small；　peculiar　round　holes；　and　dark　cracks；　suggestive　of　hidden　vermin；　gave　me　a　creepy　feeling；　and　although　not　over…sensitive　on　the　subject　of　crawling；　creeping　things；　I　voiced　my　disgust。

〃Say；　I　don't　like　the　idea　of　sleeping　in　this　hole。　I'll　bet　it's　full　of　spiders；　snakes　and　centipedes　and　other　poisonous　things。〃

Whatever　there　was　in　my　inoffensive　declaration　to　rouse　the　usually　slumbering　humor　of　the　Arizonians；　and　the　thinly　veiled　ridicule　of　Colonel　Jones；　and　a　mixture　of　both　in　my　once　loyal　California　friend；　I　am　not　prepared　to　state。　Maybe　it　was　the　dry；　sweet；　cool　air　of　Nail　Canyon；　maybe　my　suggestion　awoke　ticklish　associations　that　worked　themselves　off　thus；　maybe　it　was　the　first　instance　of　my　committing　myself　to　a　breach　of　camp　etiquette。　Be　that　as　it　may；　my　innocently　expressed　sentiment　gave　rise　to　bewildering　dissertations　on　entomology；　and　most　remarkable　and　startling　tales　from　first…hand　experience。

〃Like　as　not；〃　began　Frank　in　matter…of…fact　tone。　〃Them's　tarantuler　holes　all　right。　An'　scorpions；　centipedes　an'　rattlers　always　rustle　with　tarantulers。　But　we　never　mind　themnot　us　fellers！　We're　used　to　sleepin'　with　them。　Why；　I　often　wake　up　in　the　night　to　see　a　big　tarantuler　on　my　chest；　an'　see　him　wink。　Ain't　thet　so；　Jim？〃

〃Shore　as　hell；〃　drawled　faithful；　slow　Jim。

〃Reminds　me　how　fatal　the　bite　of　a　centipede　is；〃　took　up　Colonel　Jones；　complacently。　〃Once　I　was　sitting　in　camp　with　a　hunter；　who　suddenly　hissed　out：　'Jones；　for　God's　sake　don't　budge！　There's　a　centipede　on　your　arm！'　He　pulled　his　Colt；　and　shot　the　blamed　centipede　off　as　clean　as　a　whistle。　But　the　bullet　hit　a　steer　in　the　leg；　and　would　you　believe　it；　the　bullet　carried　so　much　poison　that　in　less　than　two　hours　the　steer　died　of　blood　poisoning。　Centipedes　are　so　poisonous　they　leave　a　blue　trail　on　flesh　just　by　crawling　over　it。　Look　there！〃

He　bared　his　arm；　and　there　on　the　brown…corded　flesh　was　a　blue　trail　of　something；　that　was　certain。　It　might　have　been　made　by　a　centipede。

〃This　is　a　likely　place　for　them；〃　put　in　Wallace；　emitting　a　volume　of　smoke　and　gazing　round　the　cave　walls　with　the　eye　of　a　connoisseur。　〃My　archaeological　pursuits　have　given　me　great　experience　with　centipedes；　as　you　may　imagine；　considering　how　many　old　tombs；　caves　and　cliff…dwellings　I　have　explored。　This　Algonkian　rock　is　about　the　right　stratum　for　centipedes　to　dig　in。　They　dig　somewhat　after　the　manner　of　the　fluviatile　long…　tailed　decapod　crustaceans；　of　the　genera　Thoracostraca；　the　common　crawfish；　you　know。　From　that；　of　course；　you　can　imagine；　if　a　centipede　can　bite　rock；　what　a　biter　he　is。〃

I　began　to　grow　weak；　and　did　not　wonder　to　see　Jim's　long　pipe　fall　from　his　lips。　Frank　looked　queer　around　the　gills；　so　to　speak；　but　the　gaunt　Stewart　never　batted　an　eye。

〃I　camped　here　two　years　ago；〃　he　said；　〃An'　the　cave　was　alive　with　rock…rats；　mice；　snakes；　horned…toads；　lizards　an'　a　big　Gila　monster；　besides　bugs；　scorpions'　rattlers；　an'　as　fer　tarantulers　an'　centipedessay！　I　couldn't　sleep　fer　the　noise　they　made　fightin'。〃

〃I　seen　the　same；〃　concluded　Lawson；　as　nonchalant　as　a　wild…horse　wrangler　well　could　be。　〃An'　as　fer　me；　now　I　allus　lays　perfickly　still　when　the　centipedes　an'　tarantulers　begin　to　drop　from　their　holes　in　the　roof；　same　as　them　holes　up　there。　An'　when　they　light　on　me；　I　never　move；　nor　even　breathe　fer　about　five　minutes。　Then　they　take　a　notion　I'm　dead　an'　crawl　off。　But　sure；　if　I'd　breathed　I'd　been　a　goner！〃

All　of　this　was　playfully　intended　for　the　extinction　of　an　unoffending　and　impressionable　tenderfoot。

With　an　admiring　glance　at　my　tormentors；　I　rolled　out　my　sleeping…bag　and　crawled　into　it；　vowing　I　would　remain　there　even　if　devil…fish；　armed　wi