Hare was perfectly happy. The old Mormon's hint did not disturb him; even the thought of Snap Naab did not return to trouble his contentment. The full present was sufficient for Hare, and his joy bubbled over, bringing smiles to August's grave face. Never had a summer afternoon in the oasis been so fair. The green fields, the red walls, the blue sky, all seemed drenched in deeper, richer hues. The wind-song in the crags, the river-murmur from the canyon, filled Hare's ears with music. To be alive, to feel the sun, to see the colors, to hear the sounds, was beautiful; and to know that Mescal awaited him, was enough.
Work on the washed-out bank of the ditch had not gone far when Naub raised his head as if listening.
"Did you hear anything?" he asked.
"No," replied Hare.
"The roar of the river is heavy here. Maybe I was mistaken. I thought I heard shots." Then he went on spading clay into the break, but he stopped every moment or so, uneasily, as if he could not get rid of some disturbing thought. Suddenly he dropped the spade and his eyes flashed.
"Judith! Judith! Here!" he called. Wheeling with a sudden premonition of evil Hare saw the girl running along the wall toward them. Her face was white as death; she wrung her hands and her cries rose above the sound of the river. Naab sprang toward her and Hare ran at his heels.
"Father!– Father!" she panted. "Come–quick–the rustlers!–the rustlers! Snap!–Dene–Oh–hurry! They've killed Dave–they've got Mescal!"
Death itself shuddered through Hare's veins and then a raging flood of fire. He bounded forward to be flung back by Naab's arm.
"Foul! Would you throw away your life? Go slowly. We'll slip through the fields, under the trees."
Sick and cold Hare hurried by Naab's side round the wall and into the alfalfa. There were moments when he was weak and trembling; others when he could have leaped like a tiger to rend and kill.
They left the fields and went on more cautiously into the grove. The screaming and wailing of women added certainty to their doubt and dread.
"I see only the women–the children–no–there's a man–Zeke," said Hare, bending low to gaze under the branches.
"Go slow," muttered Naab.
"The rustlers rode off–after Mescal–she's gone!" panted Judith.
Hare, spurred by the possibilities in the half-crazed girl's speech, cast caution to the winds and dashed forward into the glade. Naab's heavy steps thudded behind him.
In the corner of the porch scared and stupefied children huddled in a heap. George and Billy bent over Dave, who sat white-faced against the steps. Blood oozed through the fingers pressed to his breast. Zeke was trying to calm the women.
"My God! Dave!" cried Hare. "You're not hard hit? Don't say it!"
"Hard hit–Jack–old fellow," replied Dave, with a pale smile. His face was white and clammy.
August Naab looked once at him and groaned, "My son! My son!"
"Dad–I got Chance and Culver–there they lie in the road–not bungled, either!"
Hare saw the inert forms of two men lying near the gate; one rested on his face, arm outstretched with a Colt gripped in the stiff hand; the
other lay on his back, his spurs deep in the ground, as if driven there
in his last convulsion.
August Naab and Zeke carried the injured man into the house. The women and children followed, and Hare, with Billy and George, entered last.
"Dad–I'm shot clean through–low down," said Dave, as they laid him on a couch. "It's just as well I–as any one–somebody had to–start this fight."
Naab got the children and the girls out of the room. The women were silent now, except Dave's wife, who clung to him with low moans. He smiled upon all with a quick intent smile, then he held out a hand to Hare.
"Jack, we got–to be–good friends. Don't forget–that–when you meet– Holderness. He shot me–from behind Chance and Culver–and after I fell–I killed them both–trying to get him. You–won't hang up–your gun– again–will you?"
Hare wrung the cold hand clasping his so feebly. "No! Dave, no!" Then he fled from the room. For an hour he stood on the porch waiting in dumb misery. George and Zeke came noiselessly out, followed by their father.
"It's all over, Hare." Another tragedy had passed by this man of the desert, and left his strength unshaken, but his deadly quiet and the gloom of his iron face were more terrible to see than any grief.
"Father, and you, Hare, come out into the road," said George.
Another motionless form lay beyond Chance and Culver. It was that of a slight man, flat on his back, his arms wide, his long black hair in the dust. Under the white level brow the face had been crushed into a bloody curve.
"Dene!" burst from Hare, in a whisper.
"Killed by a horse!" exclaimed August Naab. "Ah! What horse?"
"Silvermane!" replied George.
"Who rode my horse–tell me–quick!" cried Hare, in a frenzy.
"It was Mescal. Listen. Let me tell you how it all happened. I was out at the forge when I heard a bunch of horses coming up the lane. I wasn't packing my gun, but I ran anyway. When I got to the house there was Dave facing Snap, Dene, and a bunch of rustlers. I saw Chance at first, but not Holderness. There must have been twenty men.
"'I came after Mescal, that's what,' Snap was saying.
"'You can't have her,' Dave answered.
"'We'll shore take her, an' we want Silvermane, too,' said Dene.
"'So you're a horse-thief as well as a rustler?' asked Dave.
"'Naab, I ain't in any mind to fool. Snap wants the girl, an' I want Silvermane, an' that damned spy that come back to life.'
"Then Holderness spoke from the back of the crowd: 'Naab, you'd better hurry, if you don't want the house burned!'
"Dave drew and Holderness fired from behind the men. Dave fell, raised up and shot Chance and Culver, then dropped his gun.
"With that the women in the house began to scream, and Mescal ran out saying she'd go with Snap if they'd do no more harm.
"'All right,' said Snap, 'get a horse, hurry–hurry!'
"Then Dene dismounted and went toward the corral saying, 'I shore want Silvermane.'
"Mescal reached the gate ahead of Dene. 'Let me get Silvermane. He's wild; he doesn't know you; he'll kick you if you go near him.' She dropped the bars and went up to the horse. He was rearing and snorting. She coaxed him down and then stepped up on the fence to untie him. When she had him loose she leaped off the fence to his back, screaming as she hit him with the halter. Silvermane snorted and jumped, and in three jumps he was going like a bullet. Dene tried to stop him, and was knocked twenty feet. He was raising up when the stallion ran over him. He never moved again. Once in the lane Silvermane got going–Lord! how he did run! Mescal hung low over his neck like an Indian. He was gone in a cloud of dust before Snap and the rustlers knew what had happened. Snap came to first and, yelling and waving his gun, spurred down the lane. The rest of the rustlers galloped after him."
August Naab placed a sympathetic hand on Hare's shaking shoulder.
"You see, lad, things are never so bad as they seem at first. Snap might as well try to catch a bird as Silvermane."
XVIII - The Heritage Of The Desert
Mescal's far out in front by this time. Depend on it, Hare," went on Naab. "That trick was the cunning Indian of her. She'll ride Silvermane into White Sage to-morrow night. Then she'll hide from Snap. The Bishop will take care of her. She'll be safe for the present in White Sage. Now we must bury these men. To-morrow–my son. Then–"