Bransford of Rainbow Range Part 24

"I'm not speaking of her and I'm not going to," protested Gibson, in a changed tone. "I'll promise! My horse is failing, Jeff. I rode hard and fast from Escondido. Your horse carried nothing much but a saddle--that pack was mostly bluff, you know. And those fellows' horses have come twenty miles less than either of ours."

No answer.

"I don't believe we're going to make it, Jeff!" There was a forlorn little quaver in Charley's voice.

Jeff grunted. "Uh! Maybe not. Griffith'll be real pleased."

Gibson rode closer. "Can't we turn off the road and hide?"

"Till daylight," said Jeff. "Then they'll get us. No way out of this desert except across the edges somewhere. You go if you want to. They won't bother to hunt for you, maybe, if they get me."

"No. It's my fault.... I'll see it out.... I'm sorry, Jeff--but it was so funny!" Here, rather to Jeff's surprise, Charley's dejection gave place to laughter.

They rode up a sandy slope where mesquites grew black along the road.

Blown sand had lodged to hummocks in their thick and matted growth; the road was a sunken way.

"How far is it from here, Jeff?"

"Ten miles--maybe only eight--to the river. We're in Texas now--have been for an hour."

"Think we can make it?"

"_Quien sabe?_"

Gibson drew rein. "You go on. Your horse isn't so tired."

"Oh, I guess not!" said Jeff. "Come on."

The sound of pursuit came clear through the quiet night. There was silence for a little.

"What'll you do, Jeff? Fight?"

"I can't!" said Jeff. "Hurt those boys? I couldn't fight, the way it is--hardly, even if 'twas the sheriff. I'll just hang, I reckon."

They reached the top of the little slope and turned down the other side.

"I don't altogether like this hanging idea," said Gibson. "I got you into this, Jeff; so I'll just get you out again--like the man in our town who was so wondrous wise. Going to use bramble bushes, too."

Volatile Gibson, in the stress of danger, had forgotten his wrath. He was light-hearted and happy, frivolously gay. "Give me your rope and your gun, Jeff. Quick now! No, I won't mention your girl--not once!

Hurry!"

"What you going to do?" asked Jeff, thoroughly mystified.

"Ever read the 'Fool's Errand'?" Charley chuckled. "No? Well, I have.

Jump off and tie the end of your rope to that mesquite root. Quick!"

He sprang down, s.n.a.t.c.hed one end of the coil from Jeff's hand and stretched it taut across the road, a foot from the ground. "Now your gun! Quick!"

He s.n.a.t.c.hed the gun, tied an end of his own saddle-rope to the stretched one, near the middle, plunged through the mesquite, over a hummock, paying out his rope as he went; wedged the gun firmly in the springing crotch of a mesquite tree, c.o.c.ked it and tied the loose end of the trailing rope to the trigger. He ran back and sprang on his horse.

"Now ride! It's our last chance!"

"Kid, you're a wonder!" said Jeff. "You'll do to take along! They'll lope up when they turn down that slope, hit that rope and pile in a heap!"

"And my rope will fire the gun off!" shrilled joyous Charley. "They'll think it's us--an ambuscade----"

"They'll take to the sand-hills," Jeff broke in. "They'll shoot into the bushes--they'll think it's us firing back, half the time.... They'll scatter out and surround that lonesome, harmless motte and watch it till daylight. You bet they won't go projecting round it any till daylight, either!" He looked up at the sky. "There's the morning star. See it?

'They have ridden the low moon out of the sky'--only there isn't any moon--'their hoofs drum up the dawn.' Then they'll find our tracks--and if I only could see the captain's face! 'Oh, my thres.h.i.+ngs, and the corn of my floor!'... And by then we'll be in Mexico and asleep.... When Griffith finds that gun--oh, he'll never show his head in Arcadia again!... Say, Charley, I hope none of 'em get hurt when they strike your skip-rope."

"Huh! It's sandy! A heap you cared about me getting hurt when you dragged me from my horse!" said Gibson, rather snappishly. "You did hurt me, too. You nearly broke my neck and you cut my arms. And I got full of mesquite thorns when I set that gun. You don't care! I'm only the man that came to save your neck. That's the thanks I get! But the men that are trying to hang you--that's different! You'd better go back. They might get hurt. You'll be sorry sometime for the way you've treated me.

There--it's too late now!"

A shot rang behind them. There was a brief silence. Then came a sharp fusillade, followed by scattering shots, dwindling to longer intervals.

Jeff clung to his saddle-horn.

"I guess they ain't hurt much," he laughed. "Wish I could see 'em when they find out! Slow down, kid. We've got lots of time now."

"We haven't," protested Charley. "Keep moving. It's hard on the horses, but they'll have a lifetime to rest in. They've telegraphed all over the country. You want to cross the river before daylight. It would be too bad for you to be caught now! Is there any ford, do you know?"

"Not this time of year. River's up."

"Cross in a boat then?"

"Guess we'd better. That horse of yours is pretty well used up. Don't believe he could swim it."

"Oh, I'm not going over. I'll get up to El Paso. I've got friends there."

"You'll get caught."

"No, I won't. I'm not going across, I tell you, and that's all there is to it! I guess I'll have something to say about things. I'm going to see you safely over, and that's the last you'll ever see of Charley Gibson."

"Oh, well!" Jeff reflected a little. "If you're sure you won't come along, I'd rather swim. My horse is strong yet. You see, it takes time to find a boat, and a boat means a house and dogs; and I'll need my horse on the other side. How'll you get to El Paso? Griffith'll likely come down here about an hour by sun, 'cross lots, a-cryin'."

"I'll manage that," said Gibson curtly enough. "You tend to your own affair."

"Oh, all right!" Jeff rode ahead. He whistled; then he chanted his war song:

"Said the little Eohippus: 'I'm going to be a horse!

And on my middle fingernails To run my earthly course!'

The Coryphodon was horrified; The Dinoceras was shocked; And they chased young Eohippus, But he skipped away and mocked.

"Said they: 'You always were as small And mean as now we see, And that's conclusive evidence That you're always going to be.

What! Be a great, tall, handsome beast, With hoofs to gallop on?

Why! You'd have to change your nature!'

Said the Loxolophodon."

"Jeff!"