"Then let me take mine. We'll hold the pass together. I'll bet we can.
Don't you reckon?"
"What use would you be without a rifle? No, Phil, you'll have to bring
up the reinforcements. That's the best tactics."
Sanderson protested eagerly, but in the end was overborne. They turned
their backs upon each other, one headed for the Mimbres and the other
for the trail that ran down to the Malpais country.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE MAN-HUNT
When Jim Yeager separated from Phil after their discovery of Keller's
hat and the deductions they drew from it, the former turned his pony
toward the Frying Pan. Daylight had already broken before he came in
sight of it, but sounds of revelry still issued boisterously from the
house.
As he drew near there came to him the squeal of sawing riddles, the
high-pitched voice of the dance caller in sing-song drawl, the shuffling
of feet keeping time to the rhythm of the music. For though a new day
was at hand, the quadrilles continued with unflagging vigor, one
succeeding another as soon as the floor was cleared.
The cow country takes its amusements seriously. A dance is infrequent
enough to be an event. Men and women do not ride or drive from thirty to
fifty miles without expecting to drink the last drop of pleasure there
may be in the occasion.
As Jim swung from the saddle, a slim figure in white glided from the
shadow of the wild cucumber vines that rioted over one end of the porch.
"Well, Jim?"
The man came to the point with characteristic directness. "He has been
waylaid, Phyl. We found his hat and the place where they ambushed him."
"Is he----" Her voice died at the word, but her meaning was clear.
"I don't think it. Looks like they were aiming to take him prisoner
without hurting him. They might easily have shot him down, but the
ground shows there was a struggle."
"And you came back without rescuing him?" she reproached.
"Phil and I were unarmed. I came back to get guns and help."
"And Phil?"
"He's following the trail. I wanted him to let me while he came back.
But he wouldn't hear to it. Said he had to square his debt to Larry."
"Good for Phil!" his sister cried, eyes like stars.
"Is Brill still here?" he asked.
"No. He rode away about an hour ago. He was very bitter at me because I
wouldn't dance with him. Said I'd curse myself for it before twenty-four
hours had passed. He must have Larry in his power, Jim."
"Looks like," he nodded, and added grimly: "If you do any regretting
there will be others that will, too."
She caught the lapels of his coat and looked into his face with
extraordinary intensity. "I'm going back with you, Jim. You'll let me,
won't you? I've waited--and waited. You can't think what an awful night
it has been. I can't stand it any longer! I'll go mad! Oh, Jim, you'll
take me, I know!" Her hands slipped down to his and clung to them with
passionate entreaty.
"Why, honey, I cayn't. This is likely to be war before we finish. It
ain't any place for girls."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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