Sawtooth Ranch Page 19

  CHAPTER XIX

  SWAN CALLS FOR HELP

  Past the field where the horses were grazing and up the canyon on theside toward Skyline Meadow, that lay on a shoulder of Bear Top, the dognosed unfalteringly along the trail. Now and then he was balked whenthe hoofprints led him to the bank of Granite Creek, but not for long.Jack appeared to understand why his trailing was interrupted andsniffed the bank until he picked up the scent again.

  "Wonder if she changed off and rode that loose horse," Hawkins saidonce, when the tracks were plain in the soft soil of the creek bank."She might, and lead that horse she was on."

  "She wouldn't know enough. She's a city girl," Lone replied, his heartheavy with fear for Lorraine.

  "Well, she ain't far off then," Hawkins comforted himself. "Her horseacted about played out when she hit the ranch. She had him wet fromhis ears to his tail, and he was breathin' like that Ford at the ranch.If that's a sample of her riding, she ain't far off."

  "Crazy--to ride up here. Keep your eyes open, boys. We must find her,whatever we do." Warfield gazed apprehensively at the rugged steeps oneither hand and at the timber line above them. "From here on shecouldn't turn back without meeting us--if I remember this countrycorrectly. Could she, Hawkins?"

  "Not unless she turned off, up here a mile or two, into that gulch thatheads into Skyline," said Hawkins. "There's a stock trail part waydown from the top where it swings off from the divide to Wilder Creek."

  Swan, walking just behind Hawkins, moved up a pace.

  "I could go on Skyline with Yack, and I could come down by thosetrail," he suggested diffidently, Swedishly, yet with a certaincompelling confidence. "What you think?"

  "I think that's a damned good idea for a square head," Hawkins toldhim, and repeated it to Warfield, who was riding ahead.

  "Why, yes. We don't need the dog, or the man either. Go up to thehead of the gulch and keep your eyes open, Swan. We'll meet you uphere. You know the girl, don't you?"

  "Yas, Ay know her pretty good," grinned Swan.

  "Well, don't frighten her. Don't let her see that you think anythingis wrong--and don't say anything about us. We made the mistake ofdiscussing her condition within her hearing, and it is possible thatshe understood enough of what we were saying to take alarm. Youunderstand? Don't tell girl she's crazy." He tapped his head to makehis meaning plainer. "Don't tell girl we're looking for her. Youunderstand?"

  "Yas, Ay know English pretty good. Ay don't tell too moch." Hischeerful smile brought a faint response from Senator Warfield. At Lonehe did not look at all. "I go quick. I'm good climber like a sheep,"he boasted, and whistling to Jack, he began working his way up a rough,brush-scattered ledge to the slope above.

  Lone watched him miserably, wishing that Swan was not quite so matterof fact in his man-chasing. If Al Woodruff, for some reason which Lonecould not fathom, had taken Lorraine and forced her to go with him intothe wilderness, Warfield and Hawkins would be his allies the momentthey came up with him. Lone was no coward, but neither was he a fool.Hawkins had never distinguished himself as a fighter, but Lone hadgleaned here and there a great deal of information about SenatorWarfield in the old days when he had been plain Bill. When Lorraineand Al were overtaken, then Lone would need to show the stuff that wasin him. He only hoped he would have time, and that luck would be withhim.

  "If they get me, it'll be all off with her," he worried, as he followedthe two up the canyon. "Swan would have been a help. But he thinksmore of catching Al than he does of helping Raine."

  He looked up and saw that already Swan was halfway up the canyon'ssteep side, making his way through the brush with more speed than Lonecould have shown on foot in the open, unless he ran. The sightheartened Lone a little. Swan might have some plan of his own,--anambush, possibly. If he would only keep along within rifle shot andremain hidden, he would show real brains, Lone thought. But Swan, whenLone looked up again, was climbing straight away from the littlesearching party; and even though he seemed tireless on foot, he couldnot perform miracles.

  Swan, however, was not troubling himself over what Lone would think, oreven what Warfield was thinking. Contrary to Lone's idea of him, Swanwas tired, and he was thinking a great deal about Lorraine, and verylittle about Al Woodruff, except as Al was concerned with Lorraine'swelfare. Swan had made a mistake, and he was humiliated over hisblunder. Al had kept himself so successfully in the background whileLone's peculiar actions had held his attention, that Swan had neverconsidered Al Woodruff as the killer. Now he blamed himself forFrank's death. He had been watching Lone, had been baffled by Lone'sconsistent kindness toward the Quirt, by the force of his personalitywhich held none of the elements of cold-blooded murder. He hadbelieved that he had the Sawtooth killer under observation, and he hadbeen watching and waiting for evidence that would impress a grand jury.And all the while he had let Al Woodruff ride free and unsuspected.

  The one stupid thing, in Swan's opinion, which he had not done was tolet Lone go on holding his tongue. He had forced the issue thatmorning. He had wanted to make Lone talk, had hoped for a weakeningand a confession. Instead he had learned a good deal which he shouldhave known before.

  As he forged up the slope across the ridged lip of the canyon, his oneimmediate object was speed. Up the canyon and over the divide on thewest shoulder of Bear Top was a trail to the open country beyond. Itwas perfectly passable, as Swan knew; he had packed in by that trailwhen he located his homestead on Bear Top. That is why he had hiscabin up and was living in it before the Sawtooth discovered hispresence.

  Al, he believed, was making for Bear Top Pass. Once down the otherside he would find friends to lend him fresh horses. Swan had learnedsomething of these friends of the Sawtooth, and he could guess prettyaccurately how far some of them would go in their service. Freshhorses for Al, food--perhaps even a cabin where he could hide Lorraineaway--were to be expected from any one of them, once Al was over thedivide.

  Swan glanced up at the sun, saw that it was dropping to late afternoonand started in at a long, loose-jointed trot across the mountain meadowcalled Skyline. A few pines, with scattered clumps of juniper and fir,dotted the long, irregular stretch of grassland which formed themeadow. Range cattle were feeding here and there, so wild they liftedheads to stare at the man and dog, then came trotting forward, theircuriosity unabated by the fact that they had seen these two before.

  Jack looked up at his master, looked at the cattle and took his placeat Swan's heels. Swan shouted and flung his arms, and the cattleducked, turned and galloped awkwardly away. Swan's trot did notslacken. His rifle swung rhythmically in his right hand, the muzzletilted downward. Beads of perspiration on his forehead had merged intotiny rivulets on his cheeks and dripped off his clean-lined, squarejaw. Still he ran, his breath unlaboured yet coming in whisperyaspirations from his great lungs.

  The full length of Skyline Meadow he ran, jumping the small beginningof Wilder Creek with one great leap that scarcely interrupted thebeautiful rhythm of his stride. At the far end of the clearing,snuggled between two great pines that reached high into the blue, hissquatty cabin showed red-brown against the precipitous shoulder of BearTop peak, covered thick with brush and scraggy timber whippedincessantly by the wind that blew over the mountain's crest.

  At the door Swan stopped and examined the crude fastening of the door;made himself certain, by private marks of his own, that none hadentered in his absence, and went in with a great sigh of satisfaction.It was still broad daylight, though the sun's rays slanted in throughthe window; but Swan lighted a lantern that hung on a nail behind thedoor, carried it across the neat little room, and set it down on thefloor beside the usual pioneer cupboard made simply of clean boxesnailed bottom against the wall. Swan had furnished a few extra frillsto his cupboard, for the ends of the boxes were fastened to hewn slabsstanding upright and just clearing the floor. Near the upper shelf arow of nails held Swan's coffee cups,--four of them, thick and white,such as
cheap restaurants use.

  Swan hooked a finger over the nail that held a cracked cup and glancedover his shoulder at Jack, sitting in the doorway with his keen nose tothe world.

  "You watch out now, Yack. I shall talk to my mother with my thoughts,"he said, drawing a hand across his forehead and speaking in breathlessgasps. "You watch."

  For answer Jack thumped his tail on the dirt floor and sniffed thebreeze, taking in his overlapping tongue while he did so. He lickedhis lips, looked over his shoulder at Swan, and draped his pink tonguedown over his lower jaw again.

  "All right, now I talk," said Swan and pulled upon the nail in hisfingers.

  The cupboard swung toward him bodily, end slabs and all. He picked upthe lantern, stepped over the log sill and pulled the cupboard doorinto place again.

  Inside the dugout Swan set the lantern on a table, dropped wearily upona rough bench before it and looked at the jars beside him, lifted hishand and opened a compact, but thoroughly efficient field wireless"set." His right fingers dropped to the key, and the whining drone ofthe wireless rose higher and higher as he tuned up. He reached for hisreceivers, ducked his head and adjusted them with one hand, and sent acall spitting tiny blue sparks from the key under his fingers.

  He waited, repeating the call. His blue eyes clouded with anxiety andhe fumbled the adjustments, coaxing the current into perfect actionbefore he called again. Answer came, and Swan bent over the table,listening, his eyes fixed vacantly upon the opposite wall of thedugout. Then, his fingers flexing delicately, swiftly, he sent themessage that told how completely his big heart matched the big body:

  "Send doctor and trained nurse to Quirt ranch at once. Send men toBear Top Pass, intercept man with young woman, or come to rescue if hedon't cross. Have three men here with evidence to convict if we cansave the girl who is valuable witness. Girl being abducted in fear ofwhat she can tell. They plan to charge her with insanity. Urgent.Hurry. Come ready to fight.

  "S. V."

  Swan had a code, but codes require a little time in the composition ofa message, and time was the one thing he could not waste. He heard thegist of the message repeated to him, told the man at the other stationthat lives were at stake, and threw off the current.