"By God, I'll teach them," he almost shouted, and ran to a pile of packages the rebels had left behind.
The prisoners heard his low yelp of exultation, watched him cram something into his pocket, and then he came towards them.
"You'll go with me," he said to the girl.
Snowy stood up, determination on his seamed face. "You'll remain here," Paul said.
"I'm keepin' with Mary," was the dogged reply.
Lesurge turned fiercely upon him. "You heard that whelp Fagan talk down to me and think you can do the same, eh?" he grated.
From beneath the breast of his coat he drew a revolver and raised it. Mary gasped and made a movement to interpose, but the gleaming barrel swept swiftly up and down. Under that fell blow, the old man crumpled and dropped, blood oozing from an ugly gash on his brow.
"You coward!" Mary cried. "You have killed him."
"Merely stunned, I'm afraid," he returned callously. "Come."
"I will not," she panted.
His smile was hateful. "Are you so anxious to be in my arms?" he asked.
With dragging feet and a heart of lead she followed; any thing rather than he should lay hands on her. Through the belt of pines and along the cliff-wall they went. Presently they reached the level of the slope and he warned her to keep out of sight. Down in the mine below four dwarfed figures were hard at work. Lesurge surveyed them with scorn.
"Not even sense enough to set a guard," he muttered. "If the others came back ... " A possibility occurred to him. "By heaven, I wish they would." Herding his captive in front of him, and taking care they could not be seen, he climbed to the Rocking Stone. He need not have worried about the men below, they were finding gold and had no eyes for anything else. With a rifle, he could have destroyed them one by one, but they had drawn his teeth--as they believed. A satanic smile wreathed his lips at the thought."You should have lulled me, friend Fagan," he mocked.
Breathless and exhausted, Mary slumped on a bench of stone, watched with weary, hopeless eyes. He was on his knees beneath the mighty rock, busy with some objects he had taken from the pockets of his long coat, burying them under a packed heap of rubble and dust. She knew that he was mad, but could not fathom his purpose. After a while he rose, contemplating his work with evil satisfaction. He looked again at the men below, toiling feverishly, oblivious to all else.
"If only Green would come the coup would be complete," he muttered.
His desire was granted, but not as he had hoped for; the cowboy was climbing towards him, and further down, his friends followed. After obtaining their horses, they had blundered into Snowy, still half-dazed by the blow he had received, but able to tell them what had happened.
"Lora Lesurge his wife?" Gerry ejaculated. "The damned hound." He glanced at Sudden, but that young man's face expressed no emotion whatever; he appeared to be entirely engrossed with the present.
"We gotta get the girl--that comes first," he decided. "Point is, where to search?" The old man could not help them, but Gerry, gazing hopelessly around, uttered a cry:
"There's someone up on the Rockin' Stone."
"Reckon it's Paul," Snowy surmised. "The men went to the mine--all of 'em." Sudden led the way, and the big black soon outdistanced the other horses. When the incline became too acute, he slid from the saddle, trailed the reins, and began to climb.
His appearance on the scene drew an oath of disappointment from Paul's lips. Mary saw him stoop, strike a match and light something; then he straightened up and clutched her arm.
"Hurry," he ordered.
She tried to free herself. "No, I won't go--I am tired--I cannot," she pleaded.
"You little fool, it's death to stay here," he raged, and clenching his fist, struck her pitilessly on the temple. With a snarl of a wild beast, he flung the limp, senseless form over a shoulder, and made for the ledge he had noticed on his first visit to the place.
It was at this moment that Sudden, who had reached the slope which faced the mine, caught a glimpse of him, and as he appeared to be heading tor the tar side of the hill, decided that to cross the slope would save a few precious seconds.
He was no more than half way when a deafening explosion boomed out above his head and he saw the great stone leave its base and bend over towards him; for a fraction of a moment it seemed to hover in the air before crashing down on the hillside. Sudden, directly in its path, knew that only a miracle of speed could prevent his being pounded to pulp in that awful mill. With desperate leaps he strove to reach the other side of the incline, one mis-step on the slippery surface of which spelt quick but agonizing death. The growl of the oncoming avalanche drummed in his ears, growing louder, but he dared not even look--his eyes were all for the spots where he must set his feet. Pebbles and small rocks, forerunners of the annihilation to come, hurled past and over him.
The ground shook as with an earthquake and the rolling thunder was very near when, with bursting lungs, he forced his aching muscles to a final effort and flung himself headlong on to a strip of grass. A boulder, weighing at least a ton, leapt over his supine body, and a second later, with a horrible grating, ripping roar, the mighty mass which had been the Rocking Stone swept by, only a few feet from where he lay.
Down in the mine, he could see four fear-stricken figures frantically striving to reach the exit, and knew--from experience--that they were doomed. Breathlessly he saw the wave of stone hit the lip of the hollow, rear up, split, and hurl itself forward to fall with dull grinding crashes. They ceased, and all that remained of the hollow was a welter of jagged granite, resembling the surface of a tiny tempestuous sea suddenly frozen into stillness. From it a cloud of fine dust rose like a smoke into the sunlit air.
A mad laugh of triumph rang out. Fifty yards above the cowboy stood Paul Lesurge; he had been unable to tear himself away without witnessing the fulfilment of his vengeance.
Sudden saw him vanish with his burden and darted in pursuit. He reached the spot on which the madman had been standing and stepped swiftly along the narrow, treacherous way. On one side was the vertical breast of the hill, on the other a sheer drop as though the cliff had been sliced away with a giant axe.
Grim, relentless, the puncher strode the perilous path, intent only on his task--to deliver Mary Ducane and destroy the devil who had brought about the havoc he had just so narrowly escaped himself. He had no pity for the crushed and mangled man ruffians in the mine, but the man who had wrought their ruindeserved to die. In a moment he came upon him; round a bend Lesurge was waiting, revolver levelled, and he laughed when Sudden appeared.
"Stop, cowboy, I've got you covered," he called sharply.
Completely taken by surprise, for he had not expected to run down his quarry so soon, the puncher had to obey. Lesurge surveyed him with sinister satisfaction.
"Now we can talk in comfort," he resumed. "But first, lest you contemplate trickery, I must warn you of another possibility." He pointed to the still unconscious girl lying at his feet, almost on the brink of the abyss. "One movement on my part, a stumble or fall, due to my being shot, shall we suppose? and she will wake in Paradise."
"She'd be far enough from yu there, anyways," Sudden retaliated. He had at once divined the reason for the girl's precarious position. "Yu'll wake in hell."
"I shall send you there first," Lesurge promised. "Up to now you have taken all the tricks but I win the game. Fagan and his brood fancied they had finished with me when they took my rifle and left me only--giant powder. Fools! to pit their puny wits against mine. You, cowboy, thought the same, and see, I hold the aces."
"Havin' destroyed the stakes," Sudden reminded him dryly.
He was wondering whether the others would arrive in time. He had been far ahead of them, and they could not have seen which way he had gone. If he could keep the maniac talking.