Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) (10 page)

 
          
Larry’s
eyes opened. “Yu think it’s a bunch o’ whites masqueradin’ as Injuns?’ he
asked.

 
          
“Shore,’
was the confident reply. “An’ Bud was unlucky; he found out, an’ they had to
close his mouth.’

 
          
“I’ll
be damned if you ain’t right!’ ejaculated Larry, after a moment’s thought.

 
          
Yu’ll
be damned anyway,’ his friend retorted. “Get a move on, an’ we’ll see where
this trail takes us while the light holds.’ They were able to make good time,
for the trail was plain and easy to follow, twisting and turning where
obstacles had to be overcome. Before they had gone many miles, however, they
were forced to camp for the night. This they did under a rocky bluff which
enabled them to make a fire without much risk of the light being visible. They
had food with them, and this despatched, they rolled up in their blankets and
slept like dead men. Sunrise saw them astir again, and breakfast over, they
caught and saddled their mounts.

 
          
“Yu’d
better strike for the Y Z an’ fetch the boys,’ Green said. “Wish I’d brought
Blue; he’d have made better time under yu than that bone-rack yu call a hoss.’
For Green was riding the pony on which he had made his first
appearance at Hatchett’s Folly.

 
          
“Think
so, do you?’ replied Barton, who sensed the grin underlying the words. “I ain’t
aimin’ to straddle no volcano in eruption; yu shore oughtta call him Vesuvius,
that brute. This little hoss is good enough for me.’

 
          
“Shore,
I know that,’ came the quick reply; “but—’

 
          
“Yah!
Go an’ find a rustler, yu long-laigged misfit,’ yelled
Larry, as he rode away. “An’ don’t hog all the glory by capturing the whole
bunch before we get in the game.’

 
          
“I’ll
save a little one for yu,’ Green told him. “An’ say, remember yu don’t know
nothin’; just be yore natural self.’

 
          
With
a most disrespectful gesture, the boy rode off, and the older man smiled as he
murmured, “He’s a good kid all right, but he shore has a lot to learn.’

 
          
He
followed the tracks for an hour, and then found that they joined a bigger and
evidently older trail which had a familiar appearance. He had covered only a
mile or two when his suspicions were verified, for he stood again at the
entrance to the blind canyon which he had stumbled upon before, with the wide
shallow stream and the baffling stretch of hard ground on the far side. Had the
stolen cattle been driven across this and thrown on to the open trail leading
to the Double X? Somehow he did not think so.

 
          
“Reckon
I’ll have another look at the canyon,’ he decided. Forcing his horse into the
water, he rode slowly upstream between the jaws of the gorge, looking closely
on both sides for tracks. Presently he stopped short, for in a little sandy bay
leading up to
a cleft in the rock-face were
the plain
hoofprints of horses. Loosening his guns in their holsters, he followed the
tracks. The cleft proved to be bigger than it looked, and almost choked with
trees and brush, but a narrow path led up and out. Green rode slowly, head down
to avoid the outflung branches on the trees, which got thicker as he climbed
higher.

 
          
Suddenly
came the swish of a rope, the loop dropped over his shoulders and he was yanked
violently from the saddle; his horse, with a snort of fear, sprang from the
trail and crashed from sight into the undergrowth. The moment Green struck the
ground, which he did on his back, two men sprang upon him. They soon learned
that despite the fact that his arms were pinioned, he was not done with. His
right leg, drawn up to his body, shot out like a released spring, and the heel
of his boot caught one of the charging men full in the stomach, hurling him,
doubled up with agony, into the brush. His companion, however, flung himself
full-length on the
captive,
and with the help of two
more who now appeared on the scene succeeded in turning him on his face and
tying his wrists securely behind him, having first slipped the rope under his
armpits.

 
          
Now,
fella, yu can either walk or be drug, which yu like,’ growled one of the
captors.

 
          
Green
struggled to his feet and followed in silence. The party appeared to consist of
four only. All were dressed in cowboy garb, and had handkerchiefs, slitted for
the eyes, over their faces, and hat-brims slouched down to further conceal
their identity. The man Green had kicked was still complaining and cursing.

 
          
“Aw,
stop yore belly-achin’,’ said one of the others. “Yu musta bin loco to tackle
him from the front.’

 
          
The
hurt one spat out an oath in reply and staggered on up the winding path.
Presently they stopped, and Green saw that they were on the tree-clad top of
one of the walls of the canyon. Before them
was
a
strip of grass, and then a straight drop of hundreds of feet on to the rocky
floor below. The man who had addressed Green now spoke again: “
Them tracks down there was
made a-purpose,’ he sneered, “an’
yu shore walked into the trap, didn’t yu? Well, we understand that yo’re
anxious to have a look at the country, an’ we aim to give yu that same. We’re
agoin’ to hang yu over the edge o’ the cliff here. When yo’re tired o’ the
view, let out a holler, an’ perhaps someone’ll hear yu.’

 
          
The
others sniggered at the taunt, and the fellow who had been kicked added, “
An
’ it oughtta cure yu o’ pokin’ yore nose where it ain’t
wanted.’

 
          
“Thought
it was his foot, Snub,’ gibed a third, and was instantly and heartily cursed
for the slip.

 
          
“Bah!
what’s
the odds? He’ll cash anyway,’ he defended
himself.

 
          
“Mebbe
he will; but that don’t excuse yu for bein’ every sort of a damned fool,’ came
the angry retort.

 
          
Green
held his peace. He realised that he was helpless and that any protest would be
futile. That these men had carried out or assisted in the raid he had no doubt,
and having secured their booty, they had laid a trap into which he had blundered.
That they would not allow a trifle like murder to stand in their way the
removal of Bud had already proved. Any hope of a rescue by the Y Z boys he had
himself destroyed by hiding his trail up the canyon.

 
          
“Anythin’
to say?’ queried the one who appeared to be the leader.

 
          
“What’s
the use?’ retorted the prisoner coolly. “Get on with the murder, yu pack o’
cowardly coyotes.’

 
          
“Murder?’
grinned
the other. “Why, we ain’t goin’ to do a thing
to yu. O’ course, if yu decide to stay where we put yu,
it’s
more’n likely yu’ll get hungry, but that’s yore affair.’

 
          
He
gestured with his hand to his followers, and while one of them secured the end
of the lasso to the trunk of a neighbouring tree, the other two marched Green
to the edge of the precipice, deftly knocked his legs from under him, hauling
on the rope as he fell so that there was no sudden jerk. They left him swinging
there against the face of the cliff, and he heard the mocking “Adios’ as they
rode away.

 
          
Green
realised that his chance of escape was a slim one indeed. He was in the depths
of the wild country, and it might be weeks before another human being chanced
that way. Beneath him was a sheer
fall
to the bed of
the canyon; above, by tilting back his head, he could see the edge of the cliff
a scant ten yards away. Only ten yards, but with his hands bound it might as
well have been ten thousand. He strained at the thong on his wrists, but it was
seasoned rawhide.

 
          
He
fell to wondering how long a man could live without food and drink.
Days, no doubt—days of unspeakable torture.
Already the
blazing sun seemed to have sucked every drop of moisture from his body, and he
was thirsty. He had seen men die of thirst, and to get his mind on something
else, he took his “look at the country.’ In other circumstances, the view would
have impressed him with its savage grandeur. An unending succession of peaks,
gorges, and forest-clad ridges stretched down from the Big Chief range and
merged with expanses of rollingcountry in the direction in which he knew the Y
Z ranch lay. Tiny streams, transformed by the blazing sun into winding strips
of burnished silver, flashed here and there, while away on the left he could
see a treeless blotch of yellow which he guessed must be Sandy Parlour.

 
          
A
wheeling spot far away in the sky caught his roving eye, and his first thought
was one of envy—the bird was free, it could go where it wished. Then a second
spot joined the first, and a third. He watched them curiously; they were coming
nearer, and apparently heading straight for the canyon.

 
          
“Vultures,’
he muttered. “Wonder what they’ve spotted?’ No sooner were the words spoken
than he knew—he himself was the attraction. “God!’ he said, and his fingers
instinctively clawed the cliff behind him. “An’ that’s why those hounds left me
my guns, knowin’ it would make it harder.’

 
          
Suddenly
his whole body
tensed :
his clutching fingers had
found a rough edge of rock, and by raising and lowering his wrists, he could
chafe the thong against it. Feverishly he set to work, lacerating his hands in
the process. The task was painfully laborious, since he could bring no pressure
to bear, but it was his only hope. The vultures, now numbering half a dozen,
came steadily on, and he could see in the stretch of sky other specks hastening
to the feast.

 
          
“They
ain’t got me yet,’ he gritted. “Wonder how long I can keep ‘em off by
shoutin’?’

 
          
Resolutely
he applied himself to his task, though his muscles ached and his whole body was
faint with fatigue. The birds were near now; he could hear their fierce cries
and the noise of their wings as they whirled above his head. He knew that it
would not be long before they would descend to attack. The thought of those
great, curved, cruel beaks and his own defenceless eyes made him shiver.

 
          
Lower
and lower wheeled the wild scavengers of the desert, until suddenly one,
hungrier or more daring than the rest, swopped down upon the prey. The man saw
it coming and gave vent to a loud yell, which sent the attacking bird away on a
wide sweep and momentarily scattered the others. But he knew they would quickly
return, and worked desperately.

 
          
His
fears were soon justified. The flapping of the great wings grew louder as the
birds wheeled in lessening circles above him. Again one of them dashed at his
face, but swerved when he shouted. Nevertheless, it passed so close that a
wingtip brushed his cheek. The whole flock was now perilously near, and a
combined swoop by several of the birds would be the beginning of the end.

 
          
Summoning
all his remaining strength, he wrenched savagely at his bonds, and fancied he
felt them give a little. Another supreme effort which nearly dislocated his
wrists and the thong parted. Torn, bruised, and numb, it was some moments
before he could use the hands he had freed. Then, spreading out and trying the
fingers gingerly, he drew one of his guns and waited for the coming onslaught.
He had obtained his freedom only just in time, for the vultures, sensing that
he was helpless, and emboldened by increasing numbers, now bunched together and
swept down upon him. Green waited until they were only a few yards distant, and
then fired four shots into the thick of them. Three dropped flapping and
screaming into the abyss, while the remainder whirled past and upwards, and
were soon mere specks in the sky again.

 
          
Having
reloaded his weapon, Green dropped it back into the holster, and began chafing
his numbed arms in preparation for the task of scaling the cliff. The stiffness
mitigated, he twisted round to face the rock, gripped the rope as high as
possible, and began hauling himself up hand over hand. It was no small job,
even for one possessing the superb muscles with which a clean, open-air life
had endowed the cowpuncher.