Chapter XVIII: "i Claim Red"

They waited, these two men who had dared invade the Scarborough stronghold and, daring, had almost paid the price, and Meshackatee raised a hail.

"Wa-a--hooo!" he called, and as his big voice woke the echoes there was an answering yell from below. A man, invisible as a spotted fawn when it walks in the shadow of leaves, came rustling up the canyon, and at last he spoke from the hill.

"Wahoo yourself!" he challenged, "who the hell are you fellers, anyway?"

"I'm Meshackatee," returned that gentleman, "and here's Mr. Hall----"

"Oh, Hall, eh?" spoke up the voice. "This is Winchester Bassett. Come down, boys, and I'll stake you to a horse."

They crept down through the shadows and met him at the creek, still smiling but without his jaunty air. A thick growth of black beard made his face look deathly pale, his clothes were hanging in shreds, and as he wrung Hall's hand he had a wild look in his eyes though he tried to conceal it with a smile.

"Well, well, Hall," he said, "I'm sure glad to see you. And you, too, Meshackatee--how are you? But say, we'd better go, because the Scarboroughs will be back and we don't want to git caught in this brush. Heard you shooting down here, and Bill and me took a chance--we winged two of 'em and captured all their horses."

"I knowed it!" exclaimed Meshackatee, "I almost knowed that that was you. They ain't many men, I'll say, that can work a Winchester that fast----"

"I was named after it," grinned Winchester. "How're you fixed for ammunition?"

"Whole pack-load!" answered Meshackatee. "Thought you boys might be short. Come on, let's go bring it down."

They caught their frightened horses and threw on the packs while Winchester turned back to join Bill; but when they arrived they found the Bassetts in a rock-pile, for much bush-whacking had got on their nerves.

"Help yourselves, boys," invited Winchester, waving his hand at the Scarborough horses which were tied among the willows by the creek, "and for cripes' sake, make it brief."

They mounted helter-skelter, driving the spare horses before them as they dashed across the creek and away; but when they had put a mile between themselves and the treacherous hillside Winchester held up his hand for a halt.

"No rush now, fellers," he said, "we'll jest see what happens. And by the way, what's the chances for a smoke?"

"Good!" beamed Meshackatee, "got lots of to-baccy--I knowed you boys would be short."

"Oh, you did, eh?" observed Winchester, after rolling a quick smoke, and he cocked his head at Bill.

"Yep, brought lo-ots of tobaccy," repeated Meshackatee hospitably, as he began to unlash his pack. "I'll git you them cartridges now."

"Damned good of you," murmured Winchester, "but what's the big idee? I ain't curious, I jest want to know."

"Oh, didn't I tell ye?" grinned Meshackatee, "me and Hall are deputy sheriffs!"

"The--hell!" scoffed Winchester, and Bill stopped smoking long enough to feel for his gun.

"That's the fact," returned Meshackatee, "got warrants for the Scarboroughs. Want you and Bill to help serve 'em."

There was a silence then as Winchester tugged at his mustache and considered the possibilities of the case.

"Well, I'll tell you, Meshackatee," he said at last, "of course it's all right but, after what's happened, Bill and I don't want 'em arrested. We want to see 'em killed."

"No more'n natural," conceded Meshackatee, "but you understand there's such a thing as the law. I can't shut my eyes to no such violations, but--well, my orders, boys, is dead or alive. I reckon you understand."

"Uhr, that's different," replied 'Winchester, as Meshackatee winked at him; but Bill was still in the dark.

"Yes--law!" he burst out, "a man get lots of protection from you deputy sheriffs and such. Here them Scarboroughs have been chasing us like a couple of wild animals for well-nigh onto a month----"

"Never mind, Bill," smiled Winchester, "don't you git the idee? We serve these here warrants with a six-shooter."

"The Scarboroughs," put in Meshackatee, "is charged with first degree murder, for killing your father and Sharps."

"Oh," nodded Bill, and sat in gloomy silence. "Well, gimme a star, then," he said.

They rode on along the ridge, keeping well up above Turkey Creek and watching for the Scarboroughs below; and, as no horsemen appeared, they finally skirted the whole valley and came out in the hills above the Basin. The ground here was open, with waving slopes of grass and timber along the summits; and they made a camp among the oak trees, while they staked out their horses and swept the plain with their field-glasses. They had a pair apiece now, for the men who had ambushed them had left all their glasses on their saddles; and as Meshackatee surveyed the spoils he chuckled in his beard, for the day had not promised so well.

"Pretty slick, boys," he said, "two horses apiece now, and these field-glasses are sure good for weak eyes. I feel it in my bones I'll soon have a big posse--say, ain't that one of the Scarboroughs by the house?"

"It's Red," responded Hall, "he's riding my horse. I'd know that little roan anywhere."

"Remember that time when he tried to trade you out of him? Well, that's Red--he's crazy about horses."

"Yes, and I'm crazy, too," said Hall, still watching him through his glasses. "I'll bet you I get that horse back."

"How?" demanded Meshackatee, but Hall shrugged his shoulders.

"How does anybody get back a horse?" he asked.

"By cracky!" burst out Meshackatee, "that gives me an idee! Do you mean you're going to steal 'im? Well, we'll pull a little Injun stuff, jest to pay 'em for this morning, and I bet you we come pretty nigh gitting _Red_!"

"Well, count me in on that," put in Winchester quietly. "It was Red that shot the old man."

"I know this is good," said Meshackatee, "because I saw it pulled off once myself. The A-paches danged near worked it on me. Instead of stealing that horse, jest slip up and pull his picket-pin; and like any horse he'll make for the hills. It ain't nature for a horse to stay out on them flats--they always like to git up on high ground. Well, let 'im ramble till daylight and then see where he's gone to--and be there when Red comes up."

"Let me do it!" clamored Bill, but Winchester brushed him aside.

"I'm the oldest," he said. "I claim Red."

"I'll release that horse myself," stated Hall. "If Red follows it, that's nothing to me."

"Winchester's surest," decided Meshackatee. "But whoever takes this job has got to do it my way."

"All right," agreed Winchester, his eyes suddenly a-gleam. "Go ahead--what you want me to do?"

"I want you to rise up," said Meshackatee solemnly, "and say: 'Surrender, in the name of the law!'"

"He'll take that to hell with 'im," predicted Winchester grimly. "I wish I could say it for Isham."

"That's my job," replied Meshackatee. "I claim Isham."

"You can have him," conceded Winchester, "if I don't git him first. But what's your grievance against Isham?"

"Never mind," returned Meshackatee, "but I'm telling you right now--I claim Isham Scarborough myself. That's what brought me back to these parts."

"Well, we won't quarrel," smiled Winchester, and, going off by himself, he began to pace up and down. "Come on," he said at last, "they're watching us through their glasses. Let's saddle up and start off north. We can come back after it's dark."

"Good idee," agreed Meshackatee, "but ain't they a cowardly bunch of gun-toters--afraid to come out and fight the four of us!"

"That ain't the way they work it," said Winchester. "We'll give 'em a dose of their own medicine. But honest, boys, I can't hardly wait to git my gun on Red Scarborough."

They rode off slowly, keeping a scout before and behind to protect them from possible surprise; and when it was dark they made their way across Turkey Creek, taking shelter in the hills behind the store. From their hiding place on the heights they could see the lights down at the Rock House, and lanterns bobbing to and fro; and shortly after midnight, armed only with his pistols, Hall McIvor set off on his quest. He walked warily from the first, for the ambush of that morning had taught him to fear the Apaches; but if they were skulking near he passed by them unobserved and crept close to the silent Rock House.

For an hour he lay watching it, half-tempted to climb the Indian mound and steal a secret interview with Allifair; but the hounds were restless and noisy and the time had not come for him to jeopardize her safety again. The Scarboroughs ruled the Basin with the power of feudal barons, their retainers were on every trail; and until their pride was broken, until they, too, had learned to fear, it was useless to oppose their will. He crept closer through the damp grass to where his high-headed roan, Blue, was nervously circling his stake, and when it recognized him he worked its picket-pin loose and watched it as it walked away. At first it started south, heading back towards its home; but as the hounds rushed out barking it turned and circled west, still dragging the rope and pin.

At the first peep of dawn they located Blue with their glasses, standing stiffly at the foot of a hill; but as the sun rose and touched him Blue woke from his trance-like sleep and moved up towards a point. There following his horse nature he intended to stand, basking in the sun until the chill was out of his limbs; after which he would fall to feeding, enjoying his freedom to the full before his new master should trail him from the plain. But already there was a man not a hundred yards away waiting patiently with his rifle in his hands; and as Blue raised his head and looked back towards the Rock House, Winchester saw a lone man riding out. It was Red, riding bareback on a horse he had picked up, following rapidly along the broad trail; and as he spied his missing mount he cut straight across the valley, coming up the grassy swale on the lope. Winchester crouched behind a bush and breathed on his hands--his hour of vengeance had come.

Red rode up towards his horse, unconscious of any danger until a man rose just below him, a man with a rifle in his hands.

"Surrender," he said, "in the name of the law!" But Red sat staring, open-mouthed. Then he whirled his horse and Winchester shot him twice, leaving him dead where he pitched to the ground.

"Here's your horse," he said, as he rode back to camp, and Hall took the trembling Blue in silence.

"Good enough!" pronounced Meshackatee, and they started off north, for the Scarboroughs were beginning to swarm.