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Hutchinson was reluctant. But the stronger force dominated. He leaned down clasped Cordts's outstretched hands, and pulled. Hutchinson bawled out hoarsely. Cordts turned what seemed a paler face. He had difficulty on the slight footing. He was slow. Slone tried to call to Lucy to shoot low, but his lips had drawn tight after his one yell.
Cordts's dark, evil, haunting face swung round. Both men became lax and plunged, and separated. The dust rose from the rough steps. Then the dark forms shot down Cordts falling sheer and straight, Hutchinson headlong, with waving arms down and down, vanishing in the depths. No sound came up.
Macomber and Blinn, with a rider and a Navajo, were up there as the official starters of the day. Bostil's eyes glistened. He put a friendly hand on Cordts's shoulder, an action which showed the stress of the moment. Most of the men crowded around Bostil. Sears and Hutchinson hung close to Cordts. And Holley, keeping near his employer, had keen eyes for other things than horses.
Slone was amazed to find how the horse thieves had calculated; yet, on second thought, the situation, once the Creeches had been recognized, appeared simple enough. "What was your game?" he demanded. "I was follerin' Creech jest to find out where he'd hole up with the girl." "What's Cordts's game AFTER he heads Joel Creech?" "Then he's goin' fer the girl."
Anyway, he's after us. What beats me is how he sticks to thet trail. Cordts never was no tracker. An' since Dick Sears is dead there ain't a tracker in Cordts's outfit. An' I always could hide my tracks.... Beats me!" "Creech, I've been leaving a trail," confessed Lucy. "What!"
There was much of the old rider daredevil spirit left in Bostil, and it interested and amused him to see Cordts and Slone meet. Assuredly Slone had heard of the noted stealer of horses. The advantage was certainly on Cordts's side, for he was good-natured and pleasant while Slone stiffened, paling slightly as he faced about to acknowledge the introduction.
Slone scarcely needed to be told all this, but the deliberate words from the lips of one of Cordts's gang bore a raw, brutal proof of Lucy's peril. And yet Slone could not bring himself to kill this man in cold blood. He tried, but in vain. "Have you got a gun?" called Slone, hoarsely. "Sure." "Ride back the other way! ... If you don't lose me I'll kill you!" The man stared.
Still, she reasoned, that once deep in the canyons, where she would be in another day, she would be worse off if she did get away. The memory of Cordts's cavernous, hungry eyes upon her was not a small factor in Lucy's decision. "Creech, if I give my word not to try to get away, would you believe me?" she asked. Creech was slow in replying. "Reckon I would," he said, finally.
He made Bostil think of a dusty, scaly, hard, desert rattlesnake. Bostil eyed this right-hand man of Cordts's and certainly felt no fear of him, though Sears had the fame of swift and deadly skill with a gun. Bostil felt that he was neither afraid nor loath to face Sears in gun-play, and he gazed at the little horse-thief in a manner that no one could mistake.
But he leveled the rifle. "I got it on you," he called. "Reckon you hev. But see hyar " "I can hit you anywhere." "Wal, I'll take yer word fer thet." "All right. Now talk fast.... Are you one of Cordts's gang?" "Sure." "Why are you alone?" "We split down hyar." "Did you know I was on this trail?" "Nope. I didn't sure, or you'd never ketched me, red hoss or no." "Who were you trailin'?"
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