Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 06 - Sudden Gold-Seeker(1937) (36 page)

 
          
“By
God, I’ll teach them,” he almost shouted, and ran to a pile of packages the
rebels had left behind.

 
          
The
prisoners heard his low yelp of exultation, watched him cram something into his
pocket, and then he came towards them.

 
          
“You’ll
go with me,” he said to the girl.

 
          
Snowy
stood up, determination on his seamed face. “You’ll remain here,” Paul said.

 
          
“I’m
keepin’ with Mary,” was the dogged reply.

 
          
Lesurge
turned fiercely upon him. “You heard that whelp Fagan talk down to me and think
you can do the same, eh?” he grated.

 
          
From
beneath the breast of his coat he drew a revolver and raised it. Mary gasped
and made a movement to interpose, but the gleaming barrel swept swiftly up and
down. Under that fell blow, the old man crumpled and dropped, blood oozing from
an ugly gash on his brow.

 
          
“You coward!”
Mary cried. “You have killed him.”

 
          
“Merely
stunned, I’m afraid,” he returned callously. “Come.”

 
          
“I
will not,” she panted.

 
          
His
smile was hateful. “Are you so anxious to be in my arms?” he asked.

 
          
With
dragging feet and a heart of lead she followed; anything rather than he should
lay hands on her. Through the belt of pines and along the cliff-wall they went.
Presently they reached the level of the slope and he warned her to keep out of sight.
Down in the mine below four dwarfed figures were hard at work. Lesurge surveyed
them with scorn.

 
          
“Not
even sense enough to set a guard,” he muttered. “If the others came back
… ”
A possibility occurred to him. “By heaven, I wish they
would.” Herding his captive in front of him, and taking care they could not be
seen, he climbed to the Rocking Stone. He need not have worried about the men
below,
they were finding gold and had no eyes for anything
else. With a rifle, he could have destroyed them one by one, but they had drawn
his teeth—as they believed. A satanic smile wreathed his lips at the thought
.“
You should have lulled me, friend Fagan,” he mocked.

 
          
Breathless
and exhausted, Mary slumped on a bench of stone, watched with weary, hopeless
eyes. He was on his knees beneath the mighty rock, busy with some objects he
had taken from the pockets of his long coat, burying them under a packed heap
of rubble and dust.

 
          
She
knew that he was mad, but could not fathom his purpose. After a while he rose,
contemplating his work with evil satisfaction. He looked again at the men
below, toiling feverishly, oblivious to all else.

 
          
“If
only Green would come the coup would be complete,” he muttered.

 
          
His
desire was granted, but not as he had hoped for; the cowboy was climbing
towards him, and further down, his friends followed. After obtaining their
horses, they had blundered into Snowy, still half-dazed by the blow he had
received, but able to tell them what had happened.

 
          
“Lora
Lesurge his wife?” Gerry ejaculated.
“The damned hound.”
He glanced at Sudden, but that young man’s face expressed no emotion whatever;
he appeared to be entirely engrossed with the present.

 
          
“We
gotta get the girl—that comes first,” he decided. “Point
is,
where to search?” The old man could not help them, but Gerry, gazing hopelessly
around, uttered a cry:

 
          
“There’s
someone up on the Rockin’ Stone.”

 
          
“Reckon
its Paul,” Snowy surmised. “The men went to the mine—all of ‘em.” Sudden led
the way, and the big black soon outdistanced the other horses. When the incline
became too acute, he slid from the saddle, trailed the reins, and began to
climb.

 
          
His
appearance on the scene drew an oath of disappointment from Paul’s lips. Mary
saw him stoop, strike a match and light something; then he straightened up and
clutched her arm.

 
          
“Hurry,”
he ordered.

 
          
She
tried to free herself. “No, I won’t go—I am tired—I cannot,” she pleaded.

 
          
“You
little fool, its death to stay here,” he raged, and clenching his fist, struck
her pitilessly on the temple. With a snarl of a wild beast, he flung the limp,
senseless form over a shoulder, and made for the ledge he had noticed on his
first visit to the place.

 
          
It
was at this moment that Sudden, who had reached the slope which faced the mine,
caught a glimpse of him, and as he appeared to be heading tor the tar side of
the hill, decided that to cross the slope would save a few precious seconds.

 
          
He
was no more than half way when a deafening explosion boomed out above his head
and he saw the great stone leave its base and bend over towards him; for a
fraction of a moment it seemed to hover in the air before crashing down on the
hillside. Sudden, directly in its path, knew that only a miracle of speed could
prevent his being pounded to pulp in that awful mill.

 
          
With
desperate leaps he strove to reach the other side of the incline, one mis-step
on the slippery surface of which spelt quick but agonizing death. The growl of
the oncoming avalanche drummed in his ears, growing louder, but he dared not
even look—his eyes were all for the spots where he must set his feet. Pebbles
and small rocks, forerunners of the annihilation to come, hurled past and over
him.

 
          
The
ground shook as with an earthquake and the rolling thunder was very near when,
with bursting lungs, he forced his aching muscles to a final effort and flung
himself headlong on to a strip of grass. A boulder, weighing at least a ton,
leapt over his supine body, and a second later, with a horrible grating,
ripping roar, the mighty mass which had been the Rocking Stone swept by, only a
few feet from where he lay.

 
          
Down
in the mine, he could see four fear-stricken figures frantically striving to
reach the exit, and knew—from experience—that they were doomed. Breathlessly he
saw the wave of stone hit the lip of the hollow, rear up, split, and hurl
itself forward to fall with dull grinding crashes.

 
          
They
ceased, and all that remained of the hollow was a welter of jagged granite,
resembling the surface of a tiny tempestuous sea suddenly frozen into
stillness. From it a cloud of fine dust rose like a smoke into the sunlit air.

 
          
A
mad laugh of triumph rang out. Fifty yards above the cowboy stood Paul Lesurge;
he had been unable to tear himself away without witnessing the fulfilment of
his vengeance.

 
          
Sudden
saw him vanish with his burden and darted in pursuit. He reached the spot on
which the madman had been standing and stepped swiftly along the narrow,
treacherous way. On one side was the vertical breast of the hill, on the other
a sheer drop as though the cliff had been sliced away with a giant axe.

 
          
Grim,
relentless, the puncher strode the perilous path, intent only on his task—to
deliver Mary Ducane and destroy the devil
who
had
brought about the havoc he had just so narrowly escaped himself. He had no pity
for the crushed and mangled man ruffians in the mine, but the man who had
wrought their ruin deserved to die. In a moment he came upon him; round a bend
Lesurge was waiting, revolver levelled, and he laughed when Sudden appeared.

 
          
“Stop,
cowboy, I’ve got you covered,” he called sharply.

 
          
Completely
taken by surprise, for he had not expected to run down his quarry so soon, the
puncher had to obey. Lesurge surveyed him with sinister satisfaction.

 
          
“Now
we can talk in comfort,” he resumed. “But first, lest you contemplate trickery,
I must warn you of another possibility.” He pointed to the still unconscious
girl lying at his feet, almost on the brink of the abyss. “One movement on my
part, a stumble or fall, due to my being shot, shall we suppose?
and
she will wake in Paradise.”

 
          
“She’d
be far enough from yu there, anyways,” Sudden retaliated. He had at once
divined the reason for the girl’s precarious position. “Yu’ll wake in hell.”

 
          
“I
shall send you there first,” Lesurge promised. “Up to now you have taken all
the tricks but I win the game. Fagan and his brood fancied they had finished
with me when they took my rifle and left me only—giant powder. Fools!
to
pit their puny wits against mine. You, cowboy, thought
the same, and see, I hold the aces.”

 
          
“Havin’
destroyed the stakes,” Sudden reminded him dryly.

 
          
He
was wondering whether the others would arrive in time. He had been far ahead of
them, and they could not have seen which way he had gone. If he could
keep the maniac
talking.

 
          
“No,
the stakes are in my hands, or rather, at my feet,” Lesurge went on. “I know
you have taken a great deal of gold from the mine, and with the girl in my
possession, I can make my own terms.” Sudden was about to reply when a shout of
“Jim” came from somewhere behind and he swore between his clenched teeth; Gerry
could not know he
Was
hastening his partner’s end.

 
          
Lesurge
was instantly on the alert.

 
          
“You
are relying on your friends?” he said. “Well, they will come too late. I am
about to kill you.” The threatened man looked steadily at him. “Shucks, yu’ll
miss,” he taunted, hoping to gain time.

 
          
“Then
I’ll try again,” was the retort. “You can do nothing; a shot person falls
forward, and the lovely lady …” He laughed hideously. Then his face became rigid.
“Now, you double-crossing dog.”
Hate darted from his
eyes, his body quivered with the lust to slay, but the pointed pistol might
have been held in a vice. Sudden found himself wondering where the bullet would
strike
him?
He saw the finger pressing the trigger.
In another second …

 
          
“Paul!”
The murderer started. The voice came from behind him, and harsh, unlike as it
was, he recognized it. Lora! What cursed freak of Fate had brought her there?
She was but a few feet away, and he had wronged and insulted her vilely. If she
had come for revenge, he was between two fires. He must persuade her.

 
          
Keep
away, Lora,” he urged. “This fellow may hit you.”

 
          
“I
am coming to you, my husband,” she replied. “We will die together, Paul; you
would wish that, I know.” The full extent of his peril dawned upon him as he
listened. Her brain had given way, and in her mad mood, she would drag him over
the precipice. And she cared for Green…

 
          
“There
is no question of dying, Lora,” he said. “I was angry last night, but I did not
mean it. We are going to be rich and happy …”

 
          
“You
were always a clever liar, Paul.” The hard laugh made him shiver; it proclaimed
her purpose; her hot Southern blood would never forgive. He thought frenziedly.
Sudden dared not shoot. If … He stepped back a pace lest the still form at his
feet might hamper him, whirled and fired. He saw the woman stagger, pitch
sideways, and flash past him into the depths. That was his last sight on earth,
for as he swung round, Sudden’s bullet crashed into his brain. Headlong he
plunged after the woman he had slain, the skirts of his back coat flapping like
the wings of a bird of prey.

 
          
Smoking
gun in hand, Sudden leant against the cliff, a clammy wetness on his brow.