Chapter IX: Unbidden Guests

We left Myrtle in the cabin when her father rushed out as the crack of rifles announced the attack on the camp of the brigade. She felt no fear at being left alone, but closing the doors she read for some hours in her book and then retired for the night. She was up early, for the scoundrels might pass the cabin on their return and she was always on her guard. Stealing out while it was yet dusk, with her rifle ready, she spent an hour in scouting and satisfied herself that no one was lurking about. Returning to the cabin she laid her rifle and revolvers on a bench by the door and went down to the spring after a bucket of water. For half an hour she dallied there by the spring. Then taking up the bucket she returned to the cabin and was putting the bucket on its bench when she heard a voice say:

“Good-morning, my dear; you look like an angel—you really do.”

She uttered a low cry and looked for a weapon, for there, just within the door and leaning against the post, stood Rafe Norris, with a provoking smile upon his face.

“You are looking for a weapon,” he said, quietly, “and I have no doubt would use it on me as readily as you did on Anatole. I have the truth of that story now.”

“Why are you here?” she gasped. “What do you seek?”

“Revenge!” he hissed. “My band has been scattered, beaten, trampled under foot by these thrice-accursed trappers. My men have been butchered in this very valley by your so-called father and Dave Farrell, and those who were spared suffered the ignominy of the lash at their hands. I myself have been disgraced by bonds.”

“Let me pass,” said Myrtle. “I will not stay to bandy words with you.”

“Listen to me, my girl,” cried Rafe Norris, sternly. “If you leave this house alive you leave it as my prisoner. I am determined to punish these two men, and I can think of no better way to do so than by taking you with me. I shall act fairly with you, and at the first station we reach you shall be my wife, for I cannot live without you.”

“Let me pass,” she repeated, trying to force her way by him, with the design of reaching her carbine, which lay on the bench outside. “I will not stay here to be insulted.”

“I am afraid you will have to stay until I give you leave to pass, my girl,” replied Norris, pushing her back. “Do you think I do not know that if you reached the carbine my life is not worth a moment’s purchase? I honor your spirit, but you meet a man whose will is stronger than your own.”

Myrtle sunk back on a stool and looked at him steadily. There was something in her dark eyes which did not bode well for him if she reached a weapon, and he laughed aloud.

“You little tiger-cat,” he said. “What would you give for a pistol, now?”

“I only wish I had one,” she gasped, clenching her hands hard.

“Here is one,” he said, drawing the weapon from his belt and presenting the butt to her. “Let us see what use you will make of it.”

She grasped the revolver with eager fingers, and quick as thought pointed it at his breast and pulled the trigger. The cap snapped but there was not a cartridge in the chambers and he laughed until the cabin rung again.

“You would do it, my fine girl,” he said. “There; drop it—the weapon is not loaded, and I should be a fool to trust myself in your hands.”

He had made a mistake in giving her any weapon. Throwing her hand back, she hurled the heavy revolver at his head, and it struck him fairly between the eyes, and for a moment he reeled blindly to and fro, half-stunned by the sudden and terrible blow. This was the moment for Myrtle, and darting past him she caught up her carbine and cocked it quickly. By the time he had somewhat recovered from the blow, he saw her standing armed and ready, the carbine pointed at his heart.

“There is a load in _this_ weapon, Mr. Rafe Norris,” she said with a merry laugh. “The tables are turned, I think. Take care! If you have any desire to live, do not dare to move hand or foot.”

The tables were turned indeed, and by his own folly. He had not dreamed that this weak girl could so suddenly become the assailant, and he staggered back, still weak and confused, looking at her with a wild, questioning stare.

“You dare not fire,” he hissed. “Down with the carbine, girl.”

“Dare not! You do not know what a woman will dare for her honor which is dearer to her than life.”

The base man saw that he was conquered, and that the eyes which flashed along the tube of the carbine were lurid with a baleful light. He had laughed at Velveteens when the story of his capture and escape was made known, and now he was in the same quandary.

“Shoot,” he said, fiercely. “I will not turn in my tracks to save my life, and am ready to die. Why do you hesitate?”

“I do not seek your life, Rafe Norris,” replied Myrtle. “I only protect myself from wrong, and that I will do, no matter what happens. If you had taken me to your camp I would have killed you with the first weapon I could reach.”

“I would have risked that,” was the reply. “But enough of this. I am conquered, and wish to know what you require of me.”

“You have come back voluntarily, and you must remain a prisoner. Go into that room behind you.”

“I will not.”

“Go in; it is the only way to save your life.”

At this moment the light of hope came into the eye of Rafe Norris. He had seen something which boded well for him.

“It is foolish to throw my life away,” he said, quietly. “Since you insist upon it and will take my life if I refuse, I will go as your prisoner. I could not ask for a fairer jailer.”

“Go in there; I have no time to waste in idle words.”

He retreated slowly, still facing her, and speaking in the same careless tone which he had assumed lately.

“I never thought, my dear girl, that I should ever become your prisoner in this particular way. I did hope that at some time you would hold me in a willing and sweeter bondage, the bondage of those who love and are beloved again. I have not yet given up hope.”

“You will force me to fire at you yet,” she said, raising the carbine a little.

“Don’t do it, my sweet; I don’t like it and it would be foolish to shed the blood of one who loves you to the confines of desperation. In fact, I yet indulge the hope that—hurrah!”

Myrtle suddenly felt herself seized from behind, and inclosed in a strong grasp, while the carbine was thrown into the air and went off without injury to any one. Slightly turning her head she saw the leering, evil face of the man called Velveteens close to hers.

“Ha, ha, ha, Rafe! You got it this time! The little cuss is pizen—pizen of the cussidest kind, ain’t she?”

The man had crept up while she was engaged in parley with Norris, and seized her before she could turn. It was vain to struggle and Myrtle allowed the carbine to be taken from her hand without a word of objection.

“Order your man Friday to take his hands off me,” she said. “I am not used to such treatment as this.”

“You desarve wuss,” hissed Velveteens. “See yer, Rafe, ye’d better give her to me, an’ ef I don’t tame her then my hand is out, that’s all.”

“Be quiet, Velveteens,” was the reply. “This girl is mine and I mean to make her my wife, so beware what you say or do. If I order the man to release you, will you promise not to get a weapon?”

“Yes,” replied Myrtle. “I won’t try to kill you again _to-day_, but I may to-morrow. What unmanly scoundrels you must be when it takes two of you to conquer one weak girl.”

“A weak gal shoots mighty clust, an’ throws pistols bully,” said Velveteens, releasing her at a sign from Norris, but remaining between her and the door.

“I am somewhat like yourself, Mr. Norris,” said Myrtle, quietly. “I yield to persuasion which I can not resist. I suppose you wish me to go with you?”

“I have some slight wishes pointing in that direction,” replied Rafe, mockingly.

“Then I will go. Will you allow me to get my hat, or must I go bareheaded?”

“Where is it?”

She pointed to the curtained alcove where she slept. He opened the curtains and looked in to satisfy himself that there was no door by which she could escape, and stepping back made a sign to her to pass in. She did so, and a moment later they heard a sharp, clicking, metallic sound, followed a moment later by another.

“By the Six Devils!” screamed Velveteens, “she’s got hold of a rifle some’rs. Didn’t ye hear her cock it?”

Both men sprung toward the recess, and drawing aside the curtains looked in, but to their rage and dismay, Myrtle was nowhere in sight. The bed was one of the common camp sort, which are used for their ease in transportation. Several articles of clothing, a chair or two, and a small table comprised all the furniture of the little place, and there was only one window which had not been touched, yet Myrtle had disappeared.

“Done!” said Velveteens, with an expression of supreme amazement upon his face. “Done exceedin’ brown; I donno ez I ever see the like in all my born days.”

Rafe Norris could not speak for passion. He ran to and fro in the little alcove, pounded the walls, shook the bed, and searched in places where a rat could hardly have taken refuge, with a dim idea that she _might_ be there, while Velveteens looked on quietly.

“That gal _is_ smart, Rafe,” he said. “One time I thort ye was a durned fool to marry anybuddy, but ef ye kin git a gal like that it’s diffrunt, I reckon. But whar in thunder hez she gone?”

“Why don’t you help me search?” cried Rafe. “Fool that we were to let her out of our hands for a moment.”

“It was stupid,” replied Velveteens, “but that won’t bring her back.”

They searched thoroughly everywhere but their search was vain. They were literally left without a clue of any kind, for the little room had no article of furniture which would have furnished a hiding-place for a rabbit.

“It looks almost like a supernatural act,” muttered Rafe below his breath. “Where _can_ she have gone? I’ve a good mind to set fire to the cabin and take the chances of finding her.”

“Let’s do it,” said Velveteens, eagerly.

“I believe you would, old fellow,” said Rafe, laughing. “You don’t seem to care much whether you kill or cure—but remember thet I _love_ the girl.”

“Love! oh, yes; that’s a nice word for Rafe Norris to speak. But, it won’t do to set a light to ther cabin fur that would bring the ‘brigade’ on us, right smart. We’ve got ter git out’n this place anyhow, before Old Pegs comes back. He’d make it hotter than hotness fur us.”

“I only wish he would come back,” replied Rafe, grating his teeth. “Curse him, he has been the cause of all our trouble. Now we won’t be able to get those Indians into a square fight again, this season. They were whipped too bad, curse the luck.”

As he spoke he gave the bed a kick. A clicking sound was heard and the floor seemed to rise beneath their feet, disclosing a cavity about four feet square and a flight of steps leading downward. “Hurrah!” cried Rafe. “We’ve got her after all. In with you!”

Velveteens sprung down the steps and ran through a narrow passage into a little cave scooped out of the solid earth where Myrtle stood with a rifle in her hand. She was again brought to bay.