Ranching For Sylvia Volume-554 by Harold Bindloss (chrome ebook reader .TXT) 📕

Liquor-Running."

They Had No Further Conversation For Another Hour.  The Poplars Rustled

Behind Them And The Grass Rippled And Clashed, But Now And Then The

Breeze Died Away For A Few Moments, And There Was A Curious And Almost

Disconcerting Stillness.  At Last, In One Of These Intervals, The

Canadian, Partly Rising, Lifted His Hand.

"Listen!" He Said.  "Guess I Hear A Team."

A Low Rhythmic Drumming That Suggested The Beat Of Hoofs Rose From The

Waste, But It Was Lost As The Branches Rattled And The Long Grass

Swayed Noisily Before A Rush Of Breeze.  George Thought The Sound Had

Come From Somewhere Half A Mile Away.

"If They're Indians, Would They Bring A Wagon?" He Asked.

"It's Quite Likely.  Some Of The Bucks Keep Smart Teams; They Do A

Little Rough Farming On The Reservation.  It Would Look As If They Were

Going For Sloo Hay, If Anybody Saw Them."

George Waited In Silence, Wishing He Could Hear The Thud Of Hoofs

Again.  It Was Slightly Daunting To Lie Still And Wonder Where The Men

Were.  It Is Never Very Dark In Summer On The Western Prairie, And

George Could See Across The Sloo, But There Was No Movement That The

Wind Would Not Account For Among The Black Trees That Shut It In.

Several Minutes Passed, And George Looked Around Again With Strained

Attention.

Suddenly A Dim Figure Emerged From The Gloom.  Another Followed It, But

They Made No Sound That Could Be Heard Through The Rustle Of The

Leaves, And George Felt His Heart Beat And His Nerves Tingle As He

Watched Them Flit, Half Seen, Through The Grass.  Then One Of The

Shadowy Objects Stooped, Lifting Something, And They Went Back As

Noiselessly As They Had Come.  In A Few More Moments They Had Vanished,

And The Branches About Them Clashed In A Rush Of Wind.  It Died Away,

And There Was No Sound Or Sign Of Human Presence In All The Silent

Wood.  George, Glad That The Strain Was Over, Was About To Rise, But

His Companion Laid A Hand On His Arm.

"Give 'Em Time To Get Clear.  We Don't Want To Come Up Until There's

Light Enough To Swear To Them Or They Make The Reservation."

They Waited Several Minutes, And Then, Traversing The Wood, Found Their

Horses And Mounted.  The Grass Stretched Away, Blurred And Shadowy, And

Though They Could See Nothing That Moved Upon It, A Beat Of Hoofs Came

Softly Back To Them.

"Wind's Bringing The Sound," Said The Teamster.  "Guess They Won't Hear

Us."

They Rode Out Into The Gray Obscurity, Losing The Sound Now And Then.

They Had Gone Several Leagues When They Came To The Edge Of A Dark

Bluff.  Drawing Bridle, They Sat And Listened, Until The Teamster Broke

The Silence.

"There's A Trail Runs Through; We'll Try It."

The Trail Was Difficult To Find And Bad To Follow, For Long Grass And

Willow-Scrub Partly Covered It, And In Spite Of Their Caution The Men

Made A Good Deal Of Noise.  That, However, Seemed Of Less Importance,

For They Could Hear Nothing Ahead, And George Looked About Carefully As

They Crossed A More Open Space.  The Trees Were Getting Blacker And

More Distinct; He Could See Their Tops Clearly Against The Sky, And

Guessed That Dawn Was Near.  How Far It Was To The Reservation He Did

Not Know, But There Would Be Light Enough In Another Hour To See The

Men Who Had Carried Off The Liquor.  Then He Began To Wonder Where The

Latter Were, For There Was Now No Sign Of Them.

Suddenly, When The Wind Dropped For A Moment, A Faint Rattle Of Wheels

Reached Them From The Depths Of The Wood, And The Teamster Raised His

Hand.

"Pretty Close," He Said.  "Come On As Cautious As You Can.  The

Reservation's Not Far Away, And We Don't Want Them To Get There Much

Before Us."

They Rode A Little More Slowly; But When The Rattle Of Wheels And Thud

Of Hoofs Grew Sharply Distinct In Another Lull, The Man Struck His

Horse.

"They've Heard Us!" He Cried.  "We've Got To Run Them Down!"

George Urged His Beast, And There Was A Crackle Of Brush About Him As

The Black Trees Streamed Past.  The Thrill Of The Pursuit Possessed

Him; After Weeks Of Patient Labor, He Felt The Exhilaration Of The Wild

Night Ride.  The Trail, He Knew, Was Riddled Here And There With Gopher

Holes And Partly Grown With Brush That Might Bring His Horse Down, But

This Did Not Count.  He Was Glad, However, That The Teamster Was Behind

Him, Because He Could See The Dim Gap Ahead Between The Mass Of Trees,

And He Thought That It Was Rapidly Becoming Less Shadowy.  The Sound Of

Hoofs And Wheels Was Growing Louder; They Were Coming Up With The

Fugitives.

"Keep Them On The Run!" Gasped The Man Behind.  "If One Of Us Gets

Thrown, The Other Fellow Will Hold Right On!"

A Few Minutes Later George's Horse Plunged With A Crash Through A Break.

"We're Off The Trail!" His Companion Cried.  "Guess It Switches Round A

Sloo!"

They Floundered Through Crackling Brushwood Until They Struck The

Track, And Afterward Rode Furiously To Make Up The Lost Time, With The

Sound Of Wheels Leading Them On.  Then In The Gap Before Them They Saw

What Seemed To Be The Back Of A Wagon Which, To George's Surprise,

Suddenly Disappeared.  The Next Moment A Figure Carrying Something

Crossed The Trail.

"To The Right!" Cried The Teamster.

George Did Not Think His Companion Had Seen The Man.  He Rode After Him

Into The Brush, And Saw The Fellow Hurrying Through It With A Load In

His Arms.  The Man Looked Around.  George Could Dimly Make Out His Dark

Face; And His Figure Was Almost Clear.  He Was An Indian And Unusually

Tall.  Then He Plunged Into A Screen Of Bushes, And George, Riding

Savagely, Drove His Horse At The Obstacle.

He Heard The Twigs Snap Beneath Him, A Drooping Branch Struck Him Hard;

And Then He Gasped With Horror.  In Front There Opened Up A Deep Black

Rift In Which Appeared The Tops Of Trees.  Seeing It Was Too Late To

Pull Up, He Shook His Feet Clear Of The Stirrups.  He Felt The Horse

Plunge Down, There Was A Shock, And He Was Flung Violently From The

Saddle.  He Struck A Precipitous Slope And Rolled Down It, Clutching At

Twigs, Which Broke, And Grass, Until He Felt A Violent Blow On His

Head.  After That He Knew Nothing.

It Was Broad Daylight When Consciousness Returned, And He Found Himself

Lying Half-Way Down A Steep Declivity.  At The Foot Of It Tall Reeds

And Sedges Indicated The Presence Of Water, And He Realized That He Had

Fallen Into A Ravine.  There Was A Small Tree Near By, Against Which He

Supposed He Had Struck His Head; But Somewhat To His Astonishment He

Could Not See His Horse.  It Had Apparently Escaped Better Than He Had,

For He Felt Dizzy And Shaky And Averse To Making An Effort To Get Up,

Though He Did Not Think He Had Broken Any Bones.

After A While He Fumbled For His Pipe And Found Some Difficulty In

Lighting It, But He Persevered, And Lay Quiet While He Smoked It Out.

The Sunlight Was Creeping Down The Gully, It Was Getting Pleasantly

Warm, And George Felt Dull And Lethargic.  Some Time Had Passed When He

Heard The Teamster's Shout And Saw The Man Scrambling Down The Side Of

The Ravine.

"Badly Hurt?" He Asked, On Reaching George.

"No," Said George; "I Don't Think It's Serious; I Feel Half Asleep And

Stupid.  Suppose That's Because I Hit My Head."

The Other Looked At Him Searchingly.  His Eyes Were Heavy And His Face

Had Lost Its Usual Color.

"You Want To Get Back To Your Homestead And Lie Quiet A While.  I

Didn't Miss You Until I'd Got Out Of The Bluff, And Then The Wagon Was

Close Ahead."

"How Was It You Avoided Falling In After Me?"

"That's Easy Understood In The Daylight.  The Trail Twists Sharply And

Runs Along The Edge Of The Ravine.  I Stuck To It; Instead Of Turning,

You Went Straight On."

"Yes," Said George, And Mentioned Having Seen The Indian Who Left The

Wagon.  Then He Asked: "But What About The Fellow You Followed?"

His Companion Hesitated.

"Guess I've Been Badly Fooled.  I Came Up With Him Outside The Bluff

When It Was Getting Light, And He Stopped His Team.  Said He Was

Quietly Driving Home When He Heard Somebody Riding After Him, And As

He'd Once Been Roughly Handled By Mean Whites, He Tried To Get Away.

Then As I Didn't Know What To Do, I Allowed I'd Keep Him In Sight Until

Constable Flett Turned Up, And By And By We Came To A Deserted Shack.

There's A Well In The Bluff Behind It, And The Buck Said His Team

Wanted A Drink; They Certainly Looked A Bit Played Out, And My Mare Was

Thirsty.  He Found An Old Bucket And Asked Me To Fill It."

"You Didn't Leave Him With The Horses!"

"No, Sir; But What I Did Was Most As Foolish.  I Let Him Go And He

Didn't Come Back.  See How I Was Fixed?  If I'd Gone Into The Bluff To

Look For Him, He Might Have Slipped Out And Driven Off, So I Stood By

The Beasts Quite A While.  It Strikes Me That Team Wasn't His.  At Last

Flett Rode Up With Another Trooper.  It Seems Steve Met Them On The

Trail."

George Nodded.  Flett Had Arrived Before He Was Expected,