But the
strain, instead of relaxing, became portentous. Holderness
suddenly showed he was ill at ease; he appeared to be expecting arrivals
from the direction of Seeping Springs. Snap Naab leaned against the side
of the door, his narrow gaze
cunningly studying the rustlers before him.
More than any other he had caught a foreshadowing. Like the desert-hawk
he could see afar. Suddenly he pressed back against the door, half
opening it while he faced the men.
"Stop!" commanded Holderness. The change in his voice was as if it had
come from another man. "You don't go in there!"
"I'm going to take the girl and ride to White Sage," replied Naab, in
slow deliberation.
"Bah! You say that only for the excuse to get into the cabin with her.
You tried it last night and I blocked you. Shut the door, Naab, or
something'll happen."
"There's more going to happen than ever you think of, Holderness. Don't
interfere now, I'm going."
"Well, go ahead--but you won't take the girl!"
Snap Naab swung off the step, slamming the door behind him.
"So-ho!" he exclaimed, sneeringly." That's why you've made me
foreman,
eh?" His claw-like hand moved almost imperceptibly
upward while his pale
eyes
strove to pierce_ the strength behind Holderness's effrontery. The
rustler chief had a trump card to play; one that showed in his sardonic
smile.
"Naab, you don't get the girl."
"Maybe you'll get her?" hissed Snap.
"I always intended to."
Surely never before had
passiondriven Snap's hand to such speed. His
Colt gleamed in the camp-fire light. Click I Click! Click! The hammer
fell upon empty chambers.
"H--l!" he shrieked.
Holderness laughed sarcastically.
"That's where you're going!" he cried. "Here's to Naab's trick with a
gun_Bah!" And he shot his
foreman through the heart.
Snap plunged upon his face. His hands beat the ground like the shuffling
wings of a wounded
partridge. His fingers gripped the dust, spread
convulsively, straightened, and sank limp.
Holderness called through the door of the cabin. "Mescal, I've rid you
of your would-be husband. Cheer-up!" Then, pointing to the fallen man,
he said to the nearest bystanders: "Some of you drag that out for the
coyotes."
The first fellow who bent over Snap happened to be the Nebraska rustler,
and he
curiously opened the breech of the six-shooter he picked up." No
shells!" he said. He pulled Snap's second Colt from his belt, and
unbreeched that."No shells! Well, d--n me!" He surveyed the group of grim
men, not one of whom had any reply.
Holderness again laughed
harshly, and turning to the cabin, he fastened
the door with a lasso.
It was a long time before Hare recovered from the starting
revelation of
the plot which had put Mescal into Holderness's power. Bad as Snap Naab
had been he would have married her, and such a fate was infinitely
preferable to the one that now menaced her. Hare changed his position
and se tied himself to watch and wait out the night. Every hour
Holderness and his men tarried at Silver Cup hastened their approaching
doom. Hare's strange prescience of the fatality that overshadowed these
men had received its first verification in the sudden
taking off of Snap
Naab. The deep-scheming Holderness,
confident that his strong band meant
sure
protection, sat and smoked and smiled beside the camp-fire. He had
not caught even a hint of Snap Naab's suggested
warning. Yet somewhere
out on the oasis trail rode a man who, once turned from the saving of
life to the lust to kill, would be as immutable as death itself. Behind
him waited a troop of Navajos, swift as eagles,
merciless as wolves,
desert warriors with the sunheated blood of generations in their veins.
As Hare waited and watched with all his inner being cold, he could almost
feel pity for Holderness. His doom was close. Twice, when the rustler
chief had sauntered nearer to the cabin door, as if to enter, Hare had
covered him with the rifle,
waiting,
waiting for the step upon the
threshold. But Holderness always checked himself in time, and Hare's
finger eased its
pressure upon the trigger.
The night closed in black; the clouded sky gave forth no
starlight; the
wind rose and moaned through the cedars. One by one the rustlers rolled
in their blankets and all dropped into
slumber while the camp-fire slowly
burned down. The night hours wore on to the soft wail of the
breeze and
the wild notes of
far-off trailing coyotes.
Hare, watching sleeplessly, saw one of the prone figures stir. The man
raised himself very
cautiously; he glanced at his
companions, and looked
long at Holderness, who lay
squarely in the dimming light. Then he