Small, strong hands gripped his wrists and turned
him away from the house.
“You fool!” cried Sally. “Ride
for it! You’ve raised your hell at last—I
knew you would!”
Red light flared in all the windows of the dining-room;
shouts and groans and cursing poured out of them.
Bard turned and followed her out toward the stable
on the run, and he heard her moaning as she ran:
“I knew! I knew!”
She mounted her horse, which was tethered near the
barn. He chose at random the first horse he reached,
a grey, threw on his back the saddle which hung from
the peg behind, mounted, and they were off through
the night. No thought, no direction; but only
in blind speed there seemed to be the hope of a salvation.
A mile, two miles dropped behind them, and then in
an open stretch, for he had outridden her somewhat,
Anthony reined back, caught the bridle of her horse,
and pulled it down to a sharp trot.
“Why have you come?”
Their faces were so close that even through the night
he could see the grim set of her lips.
“Ain’t you raised your hell—the
hell you was hungry to raise? Don’t you
need help?”
“What I’ve done is my own doing.
I’ll take the burden of it.”
“You’ll take a halter for it, that’s
what you’ll take. The whole range’ll
rise for this. You’re marked already.
Everywhere you’ve gone you’ve made an
enemy. They’ll be out to get you—Nash—Boardman—the
whole gang.”
“Let ’em come. I’d do this
all over again.”
“Born gunman, eh? Bard, you ain’t
got a week to live.”
It was fierceness; it was a reproach rather than sorrow.
“Then let me go my own way. Why do you
follow, Sally?”
“D’you know these mountains?”
“No, but——”
“Then they’d run you down in twelve hours.
Where’ll you head for?”
He said, as the first thought entered his mind:
“I’ll go for the old house that Drew has
on the other side of the range.”
“That ain’t bad. Know the short cut?”
“What cut?”
“You can make it in five hours over one trail.
But of course you don’t know. Nobody but
old Dan and me ever knowed it. Let go my bridle
and ride like hell.”
She jerked the reins away from him and galloped off
at full speed. He followed.
“Sally!” he called.
But she kept straight ahead, and he followed, shouting,
imploring her to go back. Finally he settled
to the chase, resolved on overtaking her. It
was no easy task, for she rode like a centaur, and
she knew the way.
NASH STARTS THE FINISH
Through the windows and the door the cowpunchers fled
from the red spurt of the flames, each man for himself,
except Shorty Kilrain, who stooped, gathered the lanky
frame of Calamity Ben into his arms, and staggered
out with his burden. The great form of William
Drew loomed through the night.
