I've been achin' to get my han's on yu.' He placed his weapon on a chair near the window, put his hat over it, and stepped lightly back. 'C'mon, mongrel.' The invitation was superfluous; even as it was uttered, Sark sprang in, his evil face betraying his satisfaction. He was the taller, bigger of the pair and had no doubt of the result. He judged the other to be an impetuous, boastful boy, and promised himself that he would soon take the conceit out of him. But here again, he mistook his man; having obtained the opportunity for which he had thirsted, Dave did not mean to throw it away by over-eagerness. A shrewd blow met the first rush and Sark went down, to lie amidst the fragments of a chair he had encountered in his fall.
Sark got up, kicked aside the broken furniture, and advanced. Dave met him half-way, slogging with right and left, and his opponent replied in kind.
For the first ten minutes Sark fought furiously, and it seemed possible that he might overwhelm his younger and lighter antagonist; but lack of condition began to tell. The cowboy's muscles were hard, yet flexible, he moved quickly and easily, balanced on the balls of his feet, and there was not an ounce of fat on his wiry frame, whereas Sark was paunchy, heavy drinking had sapped his power of endurance, and already the unwonted violent exercise was forcing him to breathe through his mouth.
Sark felt that he was losing, and the realization infuriated and spurred him to fiercer effort. Back and fore they swayed, slipping, stumbling, but always striking, and the scrape of boots on the floor was punctuated by the thud of fist upon flesh.
The end came with dramatic swiftness. The cattleman, breathing stertorously, one eye completely closed, and ribs pounded to an aching rawness, knew that only a mighty stroke could turn the tide of the battle in his favour. Suddenly retreating several paces, , he lowered his head, and charged madly. It was a desperate device, and if the other man did not know . . .
But Dave had once seen a fighter, butted bull-like in the belly, carried away unconscious and badly injured. In a flash he flung himself forward, caught Sark round the knees, and rising, hurled him over his shoulder. Aided by his own impetus, the rancher soared through the air as though shot from a catapult, slid the length of the table, sweeping it clean, and crashed to the floor.
Dave stood over the bloodstained, senseless mass sprawled amid the broken crockery.
'If yo're dead I don't care, but if you ain't, an' I find yu were lyin' to me, this ain't a circumstance to what I'll do to yu,' he rasped. 'An' if I can't, Jim'll see to it.' Taking his gun and hat, he went into the sunshine.
From behind the glass door of the living-room, a battered, demoniac face saw him depart, and spat out vitriolic curses from cut and swollen lips. Far from killing him, Sark's fall had not even deprived him of his wits, but the terrific impact had left him in no shape to continue the combat, and lacking the courage to risk further punishment.
'You've won, but what has it got you?' he scoffed. 'I hold the trump card--the woman, an' for every hurt you've given me, she shall pay--in full. Jim'll see to me, huh? What if we've seen to him first, Mister?'
Chapter XVII
DAVE MASTERS rode away from the Dumb-bell sore in body but elated in spirit--he had punished one whom he despised and hated from the moment of their meeting. His satisfaction, however, was heavily discounted by the fact that he had learned nothing of the missing girl.
'It ain't got us no place, Splinter,' he reflected aloud. 'Where do we look now?' He reined in and surveyed the piled-up, verdure-clad terraces leading to the grey spires of the Mystery range. Somewhere in those dark recesses, Mullins and his rustlers were supposed to be hiding. The name stirred his memory.
'Jakes ! ' he muttered. 'He wanted her, too, or, mebbe Sark's usin' him. We gotta find out.' He slapped his mount on the neck_ An hour's journey brought them to the foothills and here the difficulty began. Dave decided to ride along the edge in the hope of finding tracks but presently abandoned the plan in despair, and choosing a spot where there seemed to be some sort of an opening, plunged into the shadowed depths. For a space, progress was possible, though the dense growth and gloom made it slow, but Dave was doubtful since they did not appear to be rising. His fears proved to be well-founded when a vertical wall of rock barred further advance; what had promised to be a passage up was no more than a blind rift in the mountain-side.
'Damn the luck,' he muttered. 'Jake's got more savvy than I gave him credit for.' There was nothing for it but to go back and try again. But getting out was no easier than getting in, and consumed a great deal of time and much of the rider's patience.
They emerged into the glare of the sun to recommence the task of finding ingress to the labyrinth. It was a wearisome business. Time after time, disappointment only re- warded them, and success seemed as far off as ever when they halted on the lip of a shallow, gravel-bottomed pool, fed by one of the several creeks from the high ground. Getting down to slake his thirst he saw the prints of shod shoes. Struck by an idea, he walked all round the water, but found no more hoof-marks.
'They didn't go on,' he argued. 'Shore, they might 'a' gone back, but why come here when there's other drinkin' places? Wadin' up the stream would blind a trail completely. Worth a trial, hoss.' They splashed steadily along the creek and the young man became more sanguine when he noticed a branch which would have been in their way hanging broken and dead. Then came the inevitable barrier in the shape of a waterfall, leaping over a rock ten feet high. But to the left of it was a level ledge of short turf, and on it, hoof-prints.
'Mebbe we got somethin',' Dave told his mount.
The way was narrow, zig-zagged a great deal, but ascended steadily; here and there, the stump of an obstructing tree showed it to be man-made. At the end of an hour's climb, through a break in the trees, the rider saw a spiral of smoke against the dark background of pines higher up. Though it did not seem to be far away, another hour passed before he got a second view of it, this time close at hand. From the shelter of a leafy bush he studied his surroundings.
The trail he had been following ended on a gently-sloping shelf, and at the back of this was a solidly- fashioned, two-storied timber building. The situation was well-chosen; at the sides and front, the ground had been cleared save for the stumps of the trees which had been used in the construction, while the rear was defended by the steep face of the mountain itself. Completely concealed by the enveloping curtain of pines, it was an ideal haven for broken men. There was no sign of life until a rider appeared from the far side of the clearing, got down, and went in. The light was still sufficient for Dave to recognize him; it was Javert.
'That seems to fix it,' he muttered. 'I've located Mister Mullins.' Night came at length, bringing a patch of light from the cabin, and Dave could delay no longer. Leaving his pony, but taking his rope, he stole to the back of the house, and, flattened against the wall, stood listening. Presently a faint glow shone from one of the two upper windows, and he heard a gruff voice say :
'I'm lettin' you have the candle while you feed.' A door slammed, followed by the heavy tread of boots on a board stair. Evidently there was a prisoner, but was it the one of whom he was in search? When he deemed the coast was clear, he began to whistle, very softly, 'The Cowboy's Lament,' about his fondness for which Mary Gray had more than once chaffed him. A moment, and from above his head, a whisper floated down :
'Is is you--Dave?'
'Shore thing,' he replied, and executed a miniature war-dance, for not only was it the Widow's voice, but she had used his first name. 'Are you tied up?'
'No, but I can't leave without my baby.' When the signifiance of this had seeped in, he swore under his breath. 'They ain't got him,' he told her.
A deeply-breathed 'Thank God!' reached him.
'Can yu grab my rope, make it fast to somethin', an' slide down?' he asked, and when she eagerly promised, added an afterthought, 'Fetch that food along--we'll need it.' He heard the window open and sent the loop of his rope spinning up to her; she caught and went to secure it. A few moments and she was back, but he would not let her descend until he had tested the lasso by throwing his own weight upon it. Anxiously he watched her scramble on to the sill.
'Grip tight an' come down slow--it ain't far,' he warned.
Nevertheless, she arrived with a rush, and would have fallen had he not been there to steady her.
'My hands--they're on fire,' she murmured. 'Oh, I never was so glad to see anyone, but I knew--I hoped--you would find me. I think I can stand now.' Slinking along in the shadow of the building, they made a dash across the open space, and reached the spot where the horse had been left; there was no sign of it.
'You haven't mistaken the place?' the Widow asked. 'No, there's the branch I tied him to--though that warn't
