Chapter VII: The Quarrel

Peering constantly to the left, right and ahead of him, the cunning outlaw descended the trail, now raising his hand for his companions to halt while he rode ahead to reconnoiter, now beckoning to them to ride faster.

His calmness, woodcraft and absolute fearlessness could not but rouse the admiration of the scout who was made his unwilling companion, yet as each minute passed without any sound indicating the approach of the troopers, thereby corroborating Red's statement that the cavalrymen would never think of his doubling on his tracks, Jennings could barely restrain his anger and disappointment.

And that the same thoughts were in the mind of his veteran comrade was soon made apparent.

As the trail swung toward the edge of the woods nearest the troopers, Shaw turned his head.

"Help!" he started to bellow.

But the alarm that might have ended the notorious outlaw's career then and there never rang out.

As the first sound came from the scout's lips, Pedro whirled with lightning rapidity and, seizing his prisoner by the throat, stifled the cry by choking him until his tongue protruded from his mouth.

Ignorant of what had been their comrade's purpose, Jennings and Scotty turned their heads to learn the cause of the commotion--and this act lost to them the precious opportunity to attract the attention of the troopers.

Seemingly divining what had occurred, even as the scouts turned their heads, Red and Rose jammed kerchiefs into their mouths and in a trice they were effectually gagged, after which, the girl repeated the operation upon Shaw.

"Say, you dubs want to remember it's Red Rogers who has captured you--not some fool trooper or Mounted Scout," jeered the outlaw. "Slicker men than you have tried to trick me--and failed. But, don't try my patience too often. Much as I enjoy your company, you may force me to part with it."

And, with this statement, so sinister in its significance, the desperado resumed the descent of the trail.

When Pedro's powerful hand had choked off Shaw's attempt to hail his comrades from the Fort, he had expected death would be the penalty for his failure. Accordingly, when he found that the only consequence was the increased discomfiture to himself and fellows occasioned by the gags, he fell to wondering more than ever as to the use Red Rogers intended to make of them.

But he was soon to learn.

Instead of following a straight course to the foot of the mountain, the outlaw zigzagged back and forth, sending his horse across stretches of rock, whenever they cropped from the earth, that his trail might suddenly stop, causing the manhunters following it delay and difficulty in picking it up again.

At last, however, just as twilight came upon the land, the cavalcade rode out upon the level at the base of the foothills.

But, to the amazement of the scouts, they were in a region of the "Bad Lands" never before seen by them.

For several minutes the notorious desperado watched the expressions on the faces of his prisoners as they vainly sought some familiar landmark that would give them an inkling as to their whereabouts.

"If I had time, I'd make a map of these hills and send it to the commandant at Griswold," he chuckled. "It's beyond reason to expect a Mounted Scout or any other soldier to catch a man in a country he don't know anything about.

"But you'd be more surprised than you are now if you knew how close to Griswold you were. I could get there and back in ten hours."

"Careful, Red," cautioned Rose. "Don't boast."

"Did you ever hear me say anything I didn't make good?" demanded the outlaw, turning fiercely upon the girl.

"No-o--not exactly. I've never known you to fall down _yet_."

"You mean I haven't carried out my pledge to your father?" queried Rogers, irritated by the emphasis Rose placed on the word "yet."

"Uhuh."

This answer aroused the bandit's anger, sending hot flushes to his cheeks.

"That ain't fair, Rose, and you know it. I'd never been caught if I hadn't stopped to place your father where the manhunters could not find him to claim the five thousand reward, dead or alive. Here I've set the whole state by the ears by getting out of jail at Keno so's I could keep my pledge to your daddy--and there ain't been a day during the five years I was behind the bars, I ain't watched my chance--and now you accuse me of laying down. 'Tain't fair, Rosie, 'tain't fair."

Eagerly the scouts drank in the bits of intimate history disclosed by Red's passionate outburst, hoping against hope that he would let fall more of his life's secrets.

But the girl's actions prevented this.

Placing her hand soothingly on the outlaw's arm, she looked into his face.

"Don't talk that way, Red," she breathed.

"I had no right to say what I did. 'Course, you've had no chance to keep your pledge. I know that. I didn't mean it the way you took it. Why, you're the only friend I've got left in the world. How do you suppose I'd lived if you hadn't sent Pedro with that bag of gold to me the night they--the night daddy was killed?

"_Please_ don't be angry with me, Red."

The pleading tone and soulful eyes with which the girl sought forgiveness appeased the huge desperado's wrath.

"Guess I couldn't if I wanted to," he returned, the tone in which he uttered the words sounding silly from such a man.

But, as he spoke, he reached out an arm, and lowered his bearded face, with the evident intention of drawing Rose to him and kissing her.

With a movement of well-feigned embarrassment, the girl avoided him, and so grotesque was the expression that spread over Red's face at the failure of his uncouth attempt at love-making that the scouts grinned.

Unluckily for them, the outlaw saw their mirth.

"You would mock me, would you?" he thundered. "I'll teach you to laugh at Red Rogers!"

And drawing back his fist, he drove it full into the helpless Jennings' face, causing the blood to spurt from his nose.

Abashed by this act of wanton cruelty in striking a man bound hand and foot, the others cowered.

Chuckling at the evident pain he had caused the scout, the desperado snatched the canvas bag from where Rose had been carrying it in front of her, drew forth a flask, and took a long pull at it.

Cursing horribly, the bandit shook the flask at his prisoners.

"If I can't have love, I can have whiskey and blood--and I'll have 'em!" he hissed.

Rose's repulse had transformed the outlaw from a good-natured giant to a fiend incarnate--and none of the awed group seemed to realize it more fully than the girl herself.

"Oh, Red, don't talk like that. I'll kiss you, if you want me to. I--I only didn't like to have all these men see me," she exclaimed, suddenly determined to sacrifice herself for the safety of the people in the region upon which this terrible bandit had been loosed.

"Too late!" chuckled Rogers, taking another pull at his flask. "I'll keep you by me till I've fulfilled my pledge to old Barney--and then you must shift for yourself. Not a sou will Red Rogers give nor a finger will he lift again to help Barney Landon's daughter!"

Horrible to behold was the desperado as he uttered these words and gloatingly he noticed the shock they caused his hearers.

Cursing his helplessness, Scotty longed to avenge the insult, or to let the girl know he would protect her--for the scout was young and Rose was of a wild beauty which had captivated the boy's heart the moment he had seen her--but he was forced to content himself with an attempt to convey his meaning by pressing against her.

Yet the girl seemed to understand, and, turning her head, smiled gratefully at her prisoner.

Fortunately for the two, the outlaw was too absorbed in his thoughts to notice them. Indeed, so engrossed was he that it was obvious to all he was planning some deviltry.

Suddenly his face broke into a hideous smile.

"Pedro, get off that horse!" he commanded. "Put your scout on the one the girl's riding. Tie him fast, so he can't get loose. Then take the man from behind me and put him, together with the kid, on your horse. I'll take the girl with me."

To the others, it seemed nothing could have been more significant of the change that had come over the desperado than his refusal to call Rose by her name.

Yet Red's next words gave evidence that there was.

"Better give her guns and knives to me before you begin transferring the scouts, Pedro," he commanded.

"Am I a prisoner?" demanded the girl, her voice defiant, though in her heart she was deeply alarmed.

"Not _yet_!" returned the outlaw, grinning as he made use of the very words of Rose--words which had caused his metamorphosis. "It depends on how you behave. Get a move on, Pedro, it will soon be dark."

As his pal, too familiar with his chief's moods to dally, stepped toward the girl, she determined upon a last appeal.

"Shame on you, Red Rogers, to order her weapons to be taken from your old pal Barney Landon's daughter!" she flashed.

"And shame on you for refusing a kiss to the only friend you or old Barney Landon ever had," mocked the outlaw.

"I didn't refuse. I was embarrassed. Of course, you can have one or twenty, Red."

Into her words and the expression on her face, Rose put all her persuasiveness.

Breathlessly the others watched the effect upon the outlaw of her apparent surrender.

A moment Red scanned her face searchingly.

"Go ahead, Pedro," he growled.

And, turning his back, he took another pull at his flask.