“No,” grinned Stretch. “I wouldn’t, if Iwas you. That doggone timepiece saved your life. You wouldn’t feelso spry now, if that slug hadn’t been stopped. Looks like itwould’ve plowed between your ribs and into your belly. You wouldn’tlike that.”
“Not one little bit,” Larry assured him.Gingerly, he rose to his feet and stared up toward the next strataof the zigzagging track. It seemed a long way distant, and thecliff face appeared treacherous, pitted in places, with many smalloutcroppings of rock and brush. “Time for us to move, bigfeller.”
“Where the hell can we go?” demandedStretch. “We’re stuck on this consarned ledge.” He edged to theouter side, peered down into the dizzy depths. “Goin’ down wouldn’tbe any blame use. Too tricky.”
“Up is best,” decided Larry. “But we don’tboth have to risk our necks. Chances are our horses are still upthere. If one of us can make it to the trail, knot both lariatstogether, rig a noose and pass it down to the other ...”
“That’ll be my chore,” insisted Stretch. “Ionly got winged. It don’t hurt worth a damn and, besides, I gotlonger arms than you, so I can reach further.”
“The hell with that,” said Larry. “We’lltoss for it.” He dug a dollar piece from his pocket “Heads I go.Tails you stay here.”
He tossed the dollar, caught it and wasabout to open his hand, when Stretch sadly chided him.
“For ten years or more, you’ve been cheatin’me with that trick. Heads you go. Tails I stay behind. Ain’t youashamed?”
“You mean ...” Larry eyed him in acuteshock, “you were always wise to it?”
“Nope,” said Stretch. “Never caught onto ittill now.” He held out a hand. “Gimme the dollar.” Larrysurrendered the coin. Stretch flicked it and caught it, closed hishand. “Heads you go—tails I go. Fair enough?”
“Fair enough,” shrugged Larry.
Stretch opened his hand.
“Tails.” He made to pocket the dollar.Larry made a growling sound. “’Scuse me.” He returned the coin toLarry, rose to his feet and stared upward. “Well—here goesnothin’.”
Larry boosted him. He began his climbslowly, pressing his lean frame against the surface of the cliff,taking a hard pull at every outcropping before daring to trust itwith his entire weight.
It seemed an eternity before he wasrolling over onto flat ground, the surface of the mountain track.The sorrel and the pinto stood fifty yards furtheralong.
At his call, the horses obediently trottedback to him. He unhitched both lariats, uncoiled them and securedtheir ends, tying his knots with scrupulous care. One end of thatlong line he fixed to the pinto’s saddlehorn. The other hefashioned in a slip noose. Then, positioning himself directly abovethe ledge, he called down to Larry and began lowering the noose. Inless than a minute, Larry was taking delivery of it, slipping itunder his armpits and pulling it tight. “Now hang onto the line,”ordered Stretch. “Dig in with your boots as you come up. I’ll keepthe pinto movin’.”
He took the pinto’s rein. The line becametaut. For a brief moment, the pinto stood braced. Then, urged on byits master’s voice, it plodded forward along the trail. Down below,Larry was swung leftward with his legs dangling. He gripped theline tighter, slammed hard against the cliff face and used the toesof his boots to good advantage, getting leverage. Three feetupward—seven feet—then—twenty—and the lariat wasn’t fraying; a factfor which he was deeply grateful.
“Nice goin’, big feller,” he acknowledged,when, a short time later, he was struggling over the rim of thetrail. He extricated himself from the noose, emptied his holsterand checked the loading of his Colt, an unnecessary, automaticaction. As he resheathed the weapon, he quietly announced, “We gotunfinished business.”
“And then some,” Stretch agreed. “I’m a mitecurious to take a look-see at that Lucky Dutchman mine.”
“You’ll see it,” Larry grimly promised,“after me. I’m headed up there by myself.”
“Well, damn-it-all ...!” beganStretch.
“Just this once,” explained Larry, “we’regonna ask for help. You’re goin’ back down the track and away tothe flats, and …”
“You mean all the way back to town?”frowned Stretch.
“I don’t reckon you’ll have to travel thatfar,” opined Larry, “to find one of Stone’s patrols.”
“Maybe I don’t hear so good.” Stretch eyedhim incredulously. “You’re tellin’ me to fetch help—fetch one ofthem consarned patrols? Hell, runt, there couldn’t be more’n a halfdozen of Collier’s pards up there. We could take ’em—without anyhelp from the dad-nabbed cavalry.”
“I’d go along with that notion,” said Larry,“if we only had our own skins to think of. But this is a big deal,amigo. Who shot us? It had to be Collier and his pards. And why?Because we were gettin’ too close. Too close to what?”
“The hijacked repeaters,” nodded Stretch,“maybe.”
“Right,” said Larry. “And nothin’ is asimportant as those repeaters. Not your life nor mine.”
“So?” prodded Stretch.
“So,” said Larry, “while I’m tagging Collierand those Apaches, you’ll be lookin’ for a cavalry patrol. Tell ’emwhat we saw, then bring ’em back here.”
“Okay, runt,” said Stretch. “We’ll play ityour way.” He swung astride the pinto, wheeled it and, as he rodepast Larry, sketched him a brief salute. Larry mounted his sorreland heeled it to movement, pressing on toward the next sharp bendof the track.
During that slow progress up themountainside, he lost all track of time. The sorrel plodded gamely,with Larry keeping it moving in the soft ground close to the cliffface, making as little noise as possible. His ears were cocked forthe give-away sounds, the clatter of hoofbeats of the other horses,and his eyes were forever probing the terrain directlyahead.
With startling suddenness, the big shelf wasrevealed to him. He rounded a bend in the heights and there it was.Hastily, he backed his mount around the bend to its lower section.He dismounted, hobbled the animal and proceeded on foot, movingcautiously to the bend and crouching for an intent appraisal of thescene now being enacted.
At his present position, he was on a levelwith the shelf and all it contained—the cabin, the corral thataccommodated—how many mules? Hell. So many? What did Sunday and hisfive sidekicks need with a whole herd of pack-animals?
