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They went back into the cavern and dragged out those of their companions not yet able to help themselves. Three out of the twenty-nine would never help themselves again. They had perished in the tunnel. The women of Malapi responded generously to the call Joyce made upon them to back their men in the fight against the fire in the chaparral.
A horseman came out of the golden west of the sunset to meet him. For a long time he saw the figure rising and falling in the saddle, the pony moving in the even fox-trot of the cattle country. The man was Bob Hart. "Found 'em?" shouted Dave when he was close enough to be heard. "No, and we won't not this side of Malapi. Those scalawags didn't make camp last night.
But he had not gone so far that a return to respectability was impossible. A little rustling on the quiet, with no evidence to fasten it on one, was nothing to bar a man from society. He had gone more definitely wrong after Sanders came back to Malapi. The young ex-convict, he chose to think, was responsible for the circumstances that made of him an outlaw.
I'm Emerson Crawford's friend. If Juan will help me save the girl he'll get off light and perhaps make some money. I'll stand by him. But if he won't, I'll drag him back to Malapi and give him to a mob." The sound of his name was a potent weapon. His fame had spread like wildfire through the hills since his return from Colorado.
Can you come at once and arrange with me plan of organization? Sanders was on the next train. He was still much needed at Malapi to look after getting supplies and machinery and to arrange for a wagon train of oil teams, but he dropped or delegated this work for the more important call that had just come.
He sat across the table from him and adroitly stirred up his hatred of Crawford and Sanders. He raked up every grudge his guest had against the two men, calling to his mind how they had beaten him at every turn. "O' course I know, Dug, you're a better man than Sanders or Crawford either, but Malapi don't know it yet.
Jackpot Number Four came in a good well, though not a phenomenal one like its predecessor. Number Five was already halfway down to the sands. Meanwhile the railroad crept nearer. Malapi was already talking of its big celebration when the first engine should come to town. Its council had voted to change the name of the place to Bonanza. The tide was turning against Steelman.
"I'll be dawged if you ain't on a warm trail, son," murmured Crawford. "And if they knew that, why wouldn't they ride either up or down the ditch and leave no tracks a-tall?" "They would for a way, anyhow. Up or down, which?" "Down, so as to reach Malapi and get into the Gusher before word came of the hold-up," guessed Crawford.
You brought the brat here without orders. Now take him home again," directed Doble harshly. Otero protested fluently, with gestures eloquent. He had not yet been paid for his services. By this time Malapi might be too hot for him. He did not intend ever to go back. He was leaving the country pronto muy pronto. The boy could go back when his sister went. "His sister's not going back.
This confirmed Shorty's opinion as to the place where Doble was to be found. With the certainty of one who knew these hills as a preacher does his Bible, Shorty wound in and out, always moving by the line of least resistance. He was steadily closing the gap of miles that separated him from Dug Doble. Crawford and Sanders rode rapidly toward Malapi.
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