`Tally one,' Smoky chuckled. `Next please.' No more victims offered. `What do we do now?'
The spiteful crack of the rifles had ceased again when Quilt answered : `If they won't come out, we just naturally gotta go in. I'll give Nick the signal.'
He sent three rapid shots skyward, and they dashed into the building, guns out and spitting lead. The foreman's first objective was the big door, which he unbolted and flung wide. He caught a glimpse of his friends racing for it, and twisted only just in time to dodge a rifle-butt which would have split his skull.
For the next few minutes the invaders had a hectic time, for they were outnumbered and fighting desperate men. Even the advent of their comrades did not at once settle the issue. Choking in the acrid reek of burnt powder and dust raised by stamping feet, the battle continued. At such close quarters reloading was impossible, and the combat soon resolved itself into single-handed tussles in which rifle or pistol-butts, fists, or feet were the weapons.
In this wild melee, Yorky was pounced upon by Bardoe, who had not forgiven the Shadow Valley incident. The boy fought like a wildcat, striking, kicking, biting, but he was outsized and out-weighted, and a crashing blow sent him reeling to the floor. Sudden, who had just accounted for one opponent, turned on the rustler.
`Try one yore own size,' he gritted, and drove a granite fist to the body, following it up with another to the jaw which jolted the big man back on his heels.
Bull grunted and cast a swift glance around; it told him that the day was lost. With a headlong rush, and a rain of furious punches, he forced his man to give ground, and then, twisting, leapt through a nearby window to vanish in the undergrowth a few yards distant. Sudden swore; he had set his mind on getting Bardoe.
So he too used the window, but instead of following the runaway, he made for his own horse. He conjectured that the man would head for the 8 B, and he knew Nigger could overtake anything in the shape of horseflesh Bull might possess. Passing down the winding trail, he re-charged his weapons, and halted in the fringe of the pines. His reasoning proved correct; after a short wait, the fugitive emerged well to the left, and he was mounted.
Sudden rose into view, hoping the fellow would turn and face him, but apparently Bardoe had but one idea--to get away, for he at once began to spur and thrash his horse furiously. A word, and the big black shot forward as though on springs, the mighty muscles moving to and fro beneath the satin skin like the well-oiled parts of a machine. Swiftly the gap between the two animals was closing up, and Sudden saw the man front making frantic efforts to get more speed.
`If he thinks he can tire Nig out, he's due for a surprise,' the pursuer reflected.
Then comprehension came; Bardoe was galloping straight for the Big Quake; the inviting green patches were already plain. `There's a road across an' he knows it. Quit dawdlin', yu imp o' darkness.'
A lengthened stride resulted, and when the black, scenting danger, stopped abruptly on the brink of the morass, the fugitive was less than a dozen yards distant. Sudden slid his drawn gun slowly back into the holster; there was no need for it. One of two things had happened; either Bardoe, in his haste, had mistaken the crossing- place, or the treacherous sub-structure of the bog had shifted. Apparently he had soon learned his peril and swung his horse round to return, but too late. The violent struggles of the terrified beast only hastened the end; already, its head alone protruded. Standing in the stirrups, with distended, horrified eyes, the rustler voiced an agonised appeal:
`Shoot, damn you, an' finish it.'
`Had yu a hand in killin' Olsen?'
`That was Cullin's work. I was there, an' spoke agin it; he wouldn't listen.'
`Will yu bear witness to that, if I save yu?'
`I'll spill everythin'--I swear it,' Bardoe said earnestly. `For Gawd's sake, hurry.'
The last words were almost screamed. The trapped man's mount had disappeared, and only by holding his arms high could they be kept clear of the churned-up, vicious mess which, like a live thing, seemed to be reaching for them. He strove to move his legs, close-clamped by the clinging mud, but fiends below were tugging at them. A vile smell of rotting vegetation almost choked him. In a spasm of frenzied fear, he repeated his promise and his oath to keep it.
With what must have been maddening deliberation, Sudden lifted his rope from where it hung and made his cast. The loop fell truly over the up-stretched arms to be grabbed and pulled tight below the arm-pits by feverish hands. The puncher twisted the other end round the horn of his saddle, and spoke to the horse: `Back, boy, but slow, mighty slow, at first; we don't wanta tear him in two.' Inch by inch, the man was drawn from the clammy clasp, and at length lay spent and gasping, but safe. When Sudden removed the rope, Bardoe sat up, gazed at the hell from which he had escaped, and shook as with an ague.
`I couldn't bear it,' he muttered brokenly. `To see it comin'that filthy muck fillin' my mouth, nose, an' eyes, suffocatin', stranglin', an' me--helpless as a babe. I've allus figured I could face death with the next fella, but not thataway. S'pose I'm a coward?'
Sudden shook his head. `It's an ugly end.' He rolled a smoke, passed it over, and proffered a light. `I guess yore makin's are wet.' Bardoe took it eagerly, regarding the giver with a puzzled expression. The tobacco soothed his frayed nerves. `Yo're a curious cuss,' he said. `Half an hour back you'd 'a' blowed me to hellangone, an' now....'
`I've a use for yu,' Sudden reminded. `I've done my part o' the bargain.'
`You shore have,' Bull agreed, and drew a deep breath. `It's fine to be alive. What you want me to do?'
Sudden told him, in detail, and the rustler replied. `I get you, an' I won't fail, whatever comes to me,' he said quietly. `I'll do what I can about that,' the puncher promised, and stepped into his saddle. `Reckon my friends have cleaned house by now.'
Bardoe saw him vanish into the wood, and only then became aware of a tobacco sack, papers, and matches lying where the rescued man must see them. His eyes gleamed.
`There goes a fella who could beat me every time,' he told the world.
Chapter XXI
BARDOE'S flight finished the battle, such of his men as were able following his example, and disappearing into the surrounding forest. Drait at once went in search of the prisoner. He found a locked door, rapped, and got no response. Lifting a heel, he drove it at the fastening. With a splintering crash it gave way, swinging drunkenly back on its hinges. Mary was standing at the far side of the room; the fear in her eyes died out when she saw him.
`You?' she cried.
`Were you expectin' someone else?' he asked drily.
In truth she was, having jumped to the conclusion that Cullin had come to her rescue. `You might have been one of the brutes who brought me here,' she explained.
Lack of warmth in her reception angered him. 'No, I'm one o' the brutes who has come to take you away,' he retorted. `Better stay here till we've straightened up.'
He went out, leaving her with the knowledge that she had behaved badly; but the picture of her cattle feeding in Shadow Valley would not be blotted out. Yet he had fought for her freedom, risking his life--she recalled the trickle of blood down one cheek. She must apologise. She nerved herself to again seek the nester, and found him with Quilt in the big room, bending over a prostrate form.
`This is no place for you,' he said.
`Who is it?' she asked, and when they told her it was Gilman, she knelt beside the man who had robbed her. Even to inexperienced eyes, the haggard, pain-wracked face and loose jaw showed that the end was near.
`I wanna drink,' he mumbled weakly, but when she called for water, a ghastly grin trembled on his lips as he added, `I said--a drink--ma'am.'
A half-empty bottle of whisky was on the table. Drait poured a stiff dose and Quilt tipped it down the eager throat. The fiery spirit gave a temporary strength. The weeping girl looked appealingly at the nester, and the dying man understood.
`Ain't nothin' to be done,' he murmured. `Sorry--'bout yore cattle, ma'am. If I could make amends....'
`You can, Jack,' Drait said. `Tell me who murdered Eddie.' `Cullin--strangled him--hisself.' His voice grew feebler. `Off'n thought o' Eddie, an' now--it's--my turn.'
Quilt laid the limp form gently on the floor, and placed his hat over the staring, lifeless eyes. Drait led the girl away. `Was that true--about Cullin?' she whispered.
`Yeah, a man don't lie at such a moment,' he replied. `Get some rest; it's a long ride back.'
