wyoming(怀俄明)-第12章
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hang on to the stirrup； for we got to travel some。 Adios； senorita！〃
He was off at a slow lope on the road he had just come； the other man
running beside the horse。 Presently he stopped； as if the arrangement were
not satisfactory； and the second man swung behind him on the pony。 Later；
when she turned in her saddle； she saw that they had left the road and were
cutting across the plain； as if to take the sharpshooter in the rear。
Her troubled thoughts stayed with her even after she had reached the
ranch。 She was nervously excited； keyed up to a high pitch； for she knew
that out on the desert； within a mile or two of her； men were stalking each
other with life or death in the balance as the price of vigilance； skill and an
unflawed steel nerve。 While she herself had been in danger； she had been
mistress of her fear。 But now she could do nothing but wait； after ordering
out such reinforcements as she could recruit without delay； and the
inaction told upon her swift； impulsive temperament。 Once； twice； the
wind brought to her a faint sound。
She had been pacing the porch； but she stopped； white as a sheet。
Behind those faint explosions might lie a sinister tragedy。 Her mind
projected itself into a score of imaginary possibilities。 She listened；
breathless in her tensity； but no further echo of that battlefield reached her。
The sun still shone warmly on brown Wyoming。 She looked down into a
rolling plain that blurred in the distance from knobs and flat spaces into a
single stretch that included a thousand rises and depressions。 That roll of
country teemed with life； but the steady； inexorable sun beat down on what
seemed a shining； primeval waste of space。 Yet somewhere in that space
the tragedy was being determinedunless it had been already enacted。
She wanted to scream。 The very stillness mocked her。 So； too； did the
clicking windmill； with its monotonous regularity。 Her pony still stood
saddled in the yard。 She knew that her place was at home； and she fought
down a dozen times the tremendous impulse to mount and fly to the field
of combat。
She looked at her watch。 How slowly the minutes dragged！ It could
not be only five minutes since she had looked last time。 Again she fell to
pacing the long west porch； and interrupted herself a dozen times to stop
and listen。
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〃I can bear it no longer；〃 she told herself at last； and in another
moment was in the saddle plying her pinto with the quirt。
But before she reached the first cottonwoods she saw them coming。
Her glasses swept the distant group； and with a shiver she made out the
dreadful truth。 They were coming slowly； carrying something between
them。 The girl did not need to be told that the object they were bringing
home was their dead or wounded。
A figure on horseback detached itself from the huddle of men and
galloped towards her。 He was coming to break the news。 But who was the
victim？ Bannister or McWilliams she felt sure； by reason of the sinking
heart in her； and then it came home that she would be hard hit if it were
either。
The approaching rider began to take distinct form through her glasses。
As he pounded forward she recognized him。 It was the man nicknamed
Denver。 The wind was blowing strongly from her to him； and while he
was still a hundred yards away she hurled her question。
His answer was lost in the wind sweep； but one word of it she caught。
That word was 〃Mac。〃
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CHAPTER 7。 THE MAN FROM
THE SHOSHONE FASTNESSES
Though the sharpshooter's rifle cracked twice during his run for the
cottonwood； the sheepman reached the tree in safety。 He could dodge
through the brush as elusively as any man in Wyoming。 It was a trick he
had learned on the whitewashed football gridiron。 For in his buried past
this man had been the noted half…back of a famous college； and one of his
specialties had been running the ball back after a catch through a broken
field of opponents。 The lesson that experience had then thumped into him
had since saved his life on more than one occasion。
Having reached the tree； Bannister took immediate advantage of the lie
of the ground to snake forward unobserved for another hundred feet。 There
was a dip from the foot of the tree； down which he rolled into the sage
below。 He wormed his way through the thick scrub brush to the edge of a
dry creek； into the bed of which he slid。 Then swiftly； his body bent
beneath the level of the bank； he ran forward in the sand。 He moved
noiselessly； eyes and ears alert to aid him； and climbed the bank at a point
where a live oak grew。
Warily he peeped out from behind its trunk and swept the plain for his
foe。 Nothing was to be seen of him。 Slowly and patiently his eyes again
went over the semi…circle before him； for where death may lurk behind
every foot of vegetation； every bump or hillock； the plainsman leaves as
little as may be to chance。 No faintest movement could escape the
sheepman's eyes； no least stir fail to apprise his ears。 Yet for many minutes
he waited in vain； and the delay told him that he had to do with a trained
hunter rather than a mere reckless cow…puncher。 For somewhere in the
rough country before him his enemy lay motionless； every faculty alive to
the least hint of his presence。
It was the whirring flight of a startled dove that told Bannister the
whereabouts of his foe。 Two hundred yards from him the bird rose； and the
direction it took showed that the man must have been trailing forward
from the opposite quarter。 The sheepman slipped back into the dry creek
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bed； retraced his steps for about a stone…throw； and again crawled up the
bank。
For a long time he lay face down in the grass； his gaze riveted to the
spot where he knew his opponent to be hidden。 A faint rustle not born of
the wind stirred the sage。 Still Bannister waited。 A less experienced
plainsman would have blazed away and exposed his own position。 But not
this young man with the steel…wire nerves。 Silent as the coming of dusk；
no breaking twig or displaced brush betrayed his self…contained presence。
Something in the clump he watched wriggled forward and showed
indistinctly through an opening in the underscrub。 He whipped his rifle
into position and fired twice。 The huddled brown mass lurched forward
and disappeared。
〃Wonder if I got him？ Seems to me I couldn't have missed clean；〃
thought Bannister。
Silence as before； vast and unbroken。
A scramble of running feet tearing a path through the brush； a
crouching body showing darkly for an eyeflash； and then the pounding of
a horse's retreating feet。
Bannister leaped up； ran lightly across the intervening space； and with
his repeater took a potshot at the galloping horseman。
〃Missed！〃 he muttered； and at once gave a sharp whistle that brought
his pony to him on the trot。 He vaulted to the saddle and gave chase。 It was
rough going； but nothing in reason can stop a cow…pony。 As sure footed as
a mountain goat； as good a climber almost as a cat； Buck followed the
flying horseman over perilous rock rims and across deep…cut creek beds。
Pantherlike he climbed up the steep creek sides without hesitation； for the
round…up had taught him never to falter at stiff going so long as his rider
put him at it。
It was while he was clambering out of the sheer sides of a wash that
Bannister made a discovery。 The man he pursued was wounded。
Something in the manner of the fellow's riding had suggested this to him；
but a drop of blood splashed on a stone that happened to meet his eye
made the surmise a certainty。
He was gaining nownot fast； almost imperceptibly； but none the less
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surely。 He could see the man looking over his shoulder； once； twice； and
then again； with that hurried； fearful glance that measures the approach of
retribution。 Barring accidents； the man was his。
But the unforeseen happened。 Buck stepped in the hole of a prairie dog
and went down。 Over his head flew the rider like a stone from a catapult。
How long Ned Bannister lay unconscious he never knew。 But when he
came to himself it was none too soon。 He sat up dizzily and passed his
hand over his head。 Something had happened。
What was it？ Oh； yes； he had been thrown from his horse。 A wave of
recollection passed over him； and his mind was clear once more。 Presently
he got to his feet and moved rather uncertainly toward Buck； for the horse
was grazing quietly a few yards from him。
But half way to the pony he stopped。 Voices； approaching by way of
the bed of Dry Creek； drifted to him。
〃He must 'a' turned and gone back。 Mebbe he guessed we was there。〃
And a voice that Bannister knew； one that had a strangely penetrant；
cruel ring of power through the drawl； made answer： 〃Judd said before he
fainted he was sure the man was Ned Bannister。 I'd ce'tainly like to meet
up with my beloved cousin right now and even up a few old scores。 By
God； I'd make him sick before I finished with him！〃
〃I'll bet y'u would； Cap；〃 returned the other； admiringly。 〃Think we'd
better deploy here and beat up the scenery a few as we go？〃
There are times when the mind works like lightning； flashes its
messages on the wings of an electric current。 For Bannister this was one of
them。 The whole situation lighted for him plainly as if it had bee
