“Never let the Colonel know you apologizedto us. He’d nail your hide to the wall.”
Civil and military authority departed. Thedrifters resumed their prone positions.
“Ain’t Stone a mean one—ain’t he now?”mused Stretch. “If there’s one breed I can’t abide, it’s aTexas-hater—like Stone and Boyle. They must’ve been bornsuspicious. Just because Boyle and that skinny corporal lost theirsoldier-suits, Stone sends a search party direct to us Texans. Itgrieves me, I’ll tell you that. It grieves me deep.”
“It grieves me too, big feller,” yawnedLarry. “But I’m glad you stashed those soldier suits at LittleLew’s.”
Early the following morning, the Texansquietly departed Bosworth, ambling their mounts out of Main Streetand heading in a northerly direction. The sack containing thestolen cavalry outfits was hitched to Larry’s saddlehorn. In hissaddle-scabbard rode the all-important repeater.
As soon as they were out of sight, DeputyCreel hurried to the Lincoln House and fired an urgent query at thedesk clerk, who replied,
“No. They haven’t checked out. They saidthey’d be back.”
“Aw, hell,” sighed Creel. “I guess it wastoo much to hope for.”
Having cleared Bosworth’s northern outskirtsand given Camp Stone a wide berth, the drifters were mutuallyagreed that they had two excellent reasons for avoiding armypatrols. One—an encounter with a patrol might delay, or evenprevent their reaching the shielding brush described by MarthaLowell, and the track beyond. Two—some conscientious N.C.O. mightbecome curious as to the contents of the sack. Under thecircumstances, such curiosity might prove awkward for them.
One patrol was moving across the skylineatop a barren ridge some two miles from town. They escapedattention by the simple expedient of descending into a nearby basinand remaining there until the patrol was out of sight. The secondpatrol they spotted just as they were about to emerge from a standof cottonwood. Discreetly, they stayed inside the timberline andpatiently followed the progress of the blue-uniformed riders. Thatpatrol rode within twenty yards of them but, fortunately, did notveer toward the trees.
From the cottonwoods to the flats east ofSun Dog Mesa, they narrowly escaped the attention of two otherpatrols. At speed, they made for the thick brush. Their horses werepanting a protest, by the time they were dismounting and leadingthem into the mesquite. Stretch breathed a sigh of relief, as heknuckled perspiration from his eyes.
“Close—huh?”
“Too close,” growled Larry. “I don’t knowif Stone’s patrols are ever gonna find those hijacked repeaters,but I’ll say this for ’em. They sure are a consarned nuisance.”They penetrated deep into the brush, not pausing until they were insight of its far end, and the beginning of the narrow track thatled upward to the mesa. While Stretch peeled out of his clothes,Larry emptied the sack. The tunic, britches, boots, hat and sidearms of the corporal were passed to Stretch. Quickly, Larrystripped to his underwear and donned the uniform once worn by theburly Sergeant Boyle.
“These here boots,” Stretch complained, “aretoo blame tight for me.”
“Quit beefin’,” growled Larry. “Thislittle chore won’t last all day. We’ll be back here—changin’ intoour own duds—before you know it.”
“You hope,” scowled Stretch.
Fully-uniformed, they gave each other akeen once-over. Stretch grimaced in disgust, and Larry noddedsympathetically.
“Yeah, I know what you’re thinkin’. Coupledo-right Texans like us—all duded up in Yankee outfits.”
“Well …” Stretch shruggedphilosophically, “I guess it’s for a good cause.”
They stowed their clothing and weaponsunder a rock, remounted and took to the winding mountain track. Ifthey felt uncomfortable in their borrowed garb, they tried not toshow it. There had been other occasions, other crises during whichthey had concealed their true identity. When it suited hisimmediate purpose, the wily Larry wasn’t above practicing the artsof deception, subterfuge and camouflage. And his lean sidekickinvariably went along with it.
At intervals, as they climbed higher, theycast cautious glances back to the flatlands. No patrols in sight atthis time. In any case; the track would be barely discernible fromdown below. Larry, riding in the lead, scanned the area ahead andabove, and drawled a warning.
“Gettin’ near the lip of the mesa, bigfeller.”
“Uh, huh,” grunted Stretch. “Inside acouple minutes, them consarned Apaches’ll be all around us—and thenwhat?”
“Just leave all the talkin’ to me,” orderedLarry. “Whatever I say, you follow my lead.”
“Don’t I always?” sighed Stretch.
The track seemed to end abruptly. Theywere moving onto level ground, the rolling green plateau dottedwith the lodges of the Sun Dog Apaches, as aggressive a tribe ashad ever plagued the Arizona Territory. Smoke wafted skyward frommany camp fires. Squaws and papooses froze into immobility, warilyeyeing the slowly approaching riders. The younger ones, swarthybraves of arrogant demeanor, mustered in force and converged onthem. Somehow, Stretch managed to summon up a guileless grin. Larryraised a hand in the peace sign and announced,
“Greetings to our red brothers. We come tospeak with the great chief, Gayatero.”
Mochita, well to the fore of the grim-facedbraves, gestured impatiently and said,
“White-eyed soldiers already have searchedour lodges for the long guns.”
“Howdy,” greeted Larry. “You speak goodEnglish, huh? Well, we haven’t come here to search your lodges. Ourmission is peaceful—you savvy?”
“I am Mochita,” frowned the chiefs son, ashe subjected Larry to an intent scrutiny. “Son ofGayatero.”
“I am Sergeant Appleyard,” declared Larry,“from the Army Ordnance headquarters of Fort Gale. And this ...” Henodded to Stretch, “is Corporal Peachtree. We come in peace—but webring a warning.”
“Men of peace,” countered Mochita, “make nothreats.” His eyes flashed. Stretch fidgeted uncomfortably, andremarked,
“This buck is just proddy enough to be ablame nuisance.”
“Easy,” grunted Larry. He showed the bravesa reassuring grin, then stared hard at Mochita. “This warning willbe given in friendship—not as a threat. I speak straight. Now—takeme to Gayatero.”
Mochita, conscious of the expectant scrutinyof his fellow braves, pretended to deliberate Larry’s request.Larry waited patiently, figuring he had Mochita’s measure. Finally,after a muttered command from the chief’s son, the braves moved toeither side, clearing a path for the bogus cavalrymen. Larry andStretch dismounted. Larry eased the wrapped repeater from hissaddle-sheath, nodded genially to Mochita, who turned and strodetoward the lodge of his father.
With
