The "Wild West" Collection. William MacLeod Raine

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ at the scene of the robbery both men had dismounted and had examined the ground thoroughly. What they saw tended still more to bewilder them. Neither of them was a tenderfoot, and the little table at the summit of the long hill told a very tangled tale to those who had eyes to read. Obvious tracks took them at once to the spot where the bandit had stood in the bushes, but there was something about them that struck both men as suspicious.

      "Looks like these are worked out on purpose," commented Lee. "The guy's leaving too easy a trail to follow, and it quits right abrupt in the bushes. Must 'a' took an airship from here, I 'low."

      "Does look funny. Hello! What's this?"

      Norris had picked up a piece of black cloth and was holding it out. A startled oath slipped from the lips of the Southerner. He caught the rag from the hands of his companion and studied it with a face of growing astonishment.

      "What's up?"

      Lee dived into his pocket and drew forth the mask he had been wearing. Silently he fitted it to the other. The pieces matched exactly, both in length and in the figure of the pattern.

      When the Southerner looked up his hands were shaking and his face ashen.

      "For God's sake, Phil, what does this mean?" he cried hoarsely.

      "Search me."

      "It must have been--looks like the hold-up was somebody--my God, man, we left this rag at the ranch when we started!" the rancher whispered.

      "That's right."

      "We planned this thing right under the nigger's room. He must 'a' heard and---- But it don't look like Jim Budd to do a thing like that."

      Norris had crossed the road again and was standing on the edge of the lateral.

      "Hello! This ditch is full of water. When we passed down it was empty," he said.

      Lee crossed over and stood by his side, a puzzled frown on his face. "There hadn't ought to be water running hyer now," he said, as if to himself. "I don't see how it could 'a' come hyer, for Bill Weston--he's the ditch rider--went to Mesa this mo'ning, and couldn't 'a' got back to turn it in."

      The younger man stooped and examined a foot-print at the edge of the ditch. It was the one Melissy had made just as she stepped into the rig.

      "Here's something new, Lee. We haven't seen this gentleman's track before. Looks like a boy's. It's right firm and deep in this soft ground. I'll bet a cooky your nigger never made that track."

      The Southerner crouched down beside him, and they looked at it together, head to head.

      "No, it ain't Jim's. I don't rightly _savez_ this thing at all," the old man muttered, troubled at this mystery which seemed to point to his household.

      "By Moses, I've got it! The guy who did the holding up had his horse down here. He loaded the sack on its back and drove off up the ditch. All we got to do is follow the ditch up or down till we come to the place where he climbed out and struck across country."

      "That's right, Phil. He must have had a pardner up at the head-gates. They had some kind of signal arranged, and when Mr. Hold-up was ready down come the water and washed out his tracks. It's a blame' smooth piece of business if you ask me."

      "The fellow made two bad breaks, though. That piece of shirt is one. This foot-print is another. They may land him in the pen yet."

      "I don't think it," returned the old man with composure, and as he spoke his foot erased the telltale print. "I 'low there won't anybody go to the pen for he'pin himself to Mr. Morse's gold dust. I don't give a cuss who it was."

      Norris laughed in his low, easy way. "I'm with you, Mr. Lee. We'll make a thorough job while we're at it and mess up these other tracks. After that we'll follow the ditch up and see if there's anything doing."

      They remounted their broncos and rode them across the tracks several times, then followed the lateral up, one on either side of the ditch, their eyes fastened to the ground to see any evidence of a horse having clambered over the bank. They drew in sight of the ranch house without discovering what they were looking for. Lee's heart was in his mouth, for he knew that he would see presently what his eye sought.

      "I reckon the fellow went down instead of up," suggested Norris.

      "No, he came up."

      Lee had stopped and was studying wheel tracks that ran up from the ditch to his ranch house. His face was very white and set. He pointed to them with a shaking finger.

      "There's where he went in the ditch, and there's where he came out."

      Norris forded the stream, cast a casual eye on the double track, and nodded. He was still in a fog of mystery, but the old man was already fearing the worst.

      He gulped out his fears tremblingly. For himself, he was of a flawless nerve, but this touched nearer home than his own danger.

      "Them wheel-tracks was made by my little gyurl's runabout, Phil."

      "Good heavens!" The younger man drew rein sharply and stared at him. "You don't think----"

      He broke off, recalling the sharp, firm little foot-print on the edge of the ditch some miles below.

      "I don't reckon I know what to think. If she was in this, she's got some good reason." A wave of passion suddenly swept the father. "By God! I'd like to see the man that dares mix her name up in this."

      Norris met this with his friendly smile. "You can't pick a row with me about that, old man. I'm with you till the cows come home. But that ain't quite the way to go at this business. First thing, we've got to wipe out these tracks. How? Why, sheep! There's a bunch of three hundred in that pasture. We'll drive the bunch down to the ditch and water them here. _Savez?_"

      "And wipe out the wheel-marks in the sand. Bully for you, Phil."

      "That's the idea. After twelve hundred chisel feet have been over this sand I reckon the wheel-tracks will be missing."

      They rode up to the house, and the first thing that met them was the candid question of the girl:

      "Have you heard, Daddy?"

      And out of his troubled heart he had answered, "Beats me, 'Lissie."

      "They've sent for the officers. Jack Flatray is on the way himself. So is Sheriff Burke," volunteered Alan gloomily.

      "Getting right busy, ain't they?" Norris sneered.

      Again Lee glanced quickly at Norris. "I reckon, Phil, we better drive that bunch of sheep down to water right away. I clean forgot them this mo'ning."

      "Sure." The younger man was not so easily shaken. He turned to McKinstra naturally. "How many of the hold-ups were there?"

      "I saw only one, and didn't see him very good. He was a slim fellow in a black mask."

      "You don't say. Were you the driver?"

      Alan felt the color suffuse his face. "No, I was the guard."

      "Oh, you were the guard."

      Alan СКАЧАТЬ