California -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Western stories
"_Don't you see we're gaining on him_?" replied the other
contemptuously. Dunn grasped his companion's hand and pressed it
silently. Even in that supreme moment this horseman's tribute to the
fugitive Buckskin forestalled all baser considerations of pursuit and
capture!
In twenty seconds they were abreast of the stranger, crowding his horse
and buggy nearly into the ditch; Brace keenly watchful, Dunn suppressed
and pale. In half a minute they were leading him a length; and when
their horse again settled down to his steady work, the stranger was
already lost in the circling dust that followed them. But the victors
seemed disappointed. The obscurity had completely hidden all but the
vague outlines of the mysterious driver.
"He's not our game, any way," whispered Dunn. "Drive on."
"But if it was some friend of his," suggested Brace uneasily, "what
would you do?"
"What I _said_ I'd do," responded Dunn savagely. "I don't want five
minutes to do it in, either; we'll be half an hour ahead of that d----d
fool, whoever he is. Look here; all you've got to do is to put me in
the trail to that cabin. Stand back of me, out of gun-shot, alone, if
you like, as my deputy, or with any number you can pick up as my posse.
If he gets by me as Nellie's lover, you may shoot him or take him as a
horse thief, if you like."
"Then you won't shoot him on sight?"
"Not till I've had a word with him."
"But"--
"I've chirped," said the sheriff gravely. "Drive on."
For a few moments only the plunging hoofs and rattling wheels were
heard. A dull, lurid glow began to define the horizon. They were silent
until an abatement of the smoke, the vanishing of the gloomy horizon
line, and a certain impenetrability in the darkness ahead showed them
they were nearing the Carquinez Woods. But they were surprised on
entering them to find the dim aisles alight with a faint mystic Aurora.
The tops of the towering spires above them had caught the gleam of the
distant forest fires, and reflected it as from a gilded dome.
"It would be hot work if the Carquinez Woods should conclude to take a
hand in this yer little game that's going on over on the Divide
yonder," said Brace, securing his horse and glancing at the spires
overhead. "I reckon I'd rather take a back seat at Injin Spring when
the show commences."
Dunn did not reply, but, buttoning his coat, placed one hand on his
companion's shoulder, and sullenly bade him "lead the way." Advancing
slowly and with difficulty, the desperate man might have been taken for
a peaceful invalid returning from an early morning stroll. His right
hand was buried thoughtfully in the side-pocket of his coat. Only Brace
knew that it rested on the handle of his pistol.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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