Ranching for Sylvia Part 53

He rode off in a few more minutes and after a while the Grants took their leave, but Flora walked down the trail with George while the team was being harnessed.

"You'll be careful, won't you?" she said. "These men are dangerous; they know yours is the most important evidence. I shall be anxious until the trial."

There was something in her eyes and voice that sent a curious thrill through George.

"I don't think that's needful; I certainly won't be reckless," he said.

Then Flora got into the vehicle; and during the next week or two George took precautions. Indeed, he now and then felt a little uncomfortable when he had occasion to pa.s.s a shadowy bluff. He carried a pistol when he went around the outbuildings at night, and fell into a habit of stopping to listen, ready to strike or shoot, each time he opened the door of one in the dark.

For all that, nothing occurred to excite suspicion, and after a while he felt inclined to smile at his nervousness. At length, one day when the trial was close at hand, and Edgar had gone to the b.u.t.te, the mail-carrier brought him a note from Grant.

It consisted of a couple of lines asking him to come over during the evening, and as supper had been finished two hours before, George realized that there was not much time to spare. Laying down the note, he walked to the door and called his Canadian hired man.

"Put the saddle on the brown horse, Jake; I'm going to Grant's."

The man did as he was bidden, and when George was about to mount handed him a repeating rifle.

"Better take this along; cylinder's full," he said. "It will be dark before you get there."

George hesitated. The rifle was heavy, but it was a more reliable weapon than a pistol, and he rode off with it. The sun had dipped when he started, the air was rapidly cooling, and after spending the day sinking holes for fence posts in the scorching sun, he found the swift motion and the little breeze that fanned his face pleasant. To the northwest, a flush of vivid crimson glowed along the horizon, but the sweep of gra.s.s was growing dim and a bluff he reached at length stood out, a sharp-cut, dusky ma.s.s, against the fading light. He pulled up his horse on its outskirts. A narrow trail led through the wood, its entrance marked by a dark gap among the shadowy trees, and it somehow looked forbidding. The bluff, however, stretched across his path; it was getting late, and George was a little impatient of the caution he had been forced to exercise. Laying his rifle ready across the saddle, he sent his horse forward.

It was quite dark in the bluff, though here and there he could see a glimmer of faint red and orange between the trees, and the stillness had a slightly disturbing effect on him. Not a leaf moved, the beat of his horse's hoofs rang sharply down the narrow trail above which the thin birch branches met. He wanted to get out into the open, where he could see about, as soon as possible. There was, however, no ostensible cause for uneasiness and he rode on quietly, until he heard a soft rustling among the slender trunks. Pulling up the horse, he called out, and, as he half expected, got no answer. Then he cast a swift glance ahead. There was a gleam of dim light not far away where the trail led out of the bluff. Throwing the rifle to his shoulder, George fired into the shadows.

The horse plunged violently and broke into a frightened gallop. George heard a whistle and a sharper rustling, and rode toward the light at a furious pace. Then his horse suddenly stumbled and came down. The rifle flew out of George's hand, and he was hurled against a tree. The next moment he felt himself rudely seized, and what he thought was a jacket was wrapped about his head. Shaken by his fall, he could make no effective resistance, and he was dragged a few yards through the bush and flung into a wagon. He tried to pull the jacket from his face, and failed; somebody brutally beat him down against the side of the vehicle when he struggled to get up. He heard a whip crack, the wagon swayed and jolted, and he knew the team was starting at a gallop.

CHAPTER XXIX

FLORA'S ENLIGHTENMENT

It was nearly midnight when Edgar returned from the settlement and saw, to his surprise, lights still burning in the homestead. Entering the living-room, he found Grierson sitting there with Jake, and it struck him that they looked uneasy.

"What's keeping you up?" he asked.

"I thought I'd wait for the boss," said the Canadian. "He went over to Grant's after supper, and he's not come back."

"That's curious. He said nothing about going."

"A note came by the mail. It's lying yonder."

Edgar picked it up and brought it near the lamp. The paper was good and printed with Grant's postal address, which was lengthy.

"I figured I'd go and meet him," Jake resumed, "Took the shot-gun and rode through the bluff. Didn't see anything of him, and it struck me Grant might have kept him all night, as it was getting late. He's stayed there before."

Edgar examined the note, for he was far from satisfied. George had only twice spent a night at Grant's, once when he was driving cattle, and again when it would have been risky to face the weather. The paper was undoubtedly Grant's, but Edgar could not identify the farmer's hand; the notes that had come over had been written by Flora. Then he remembered that George had bought some implements from Grant, and had filed the rancher's receipt. Edgar hurriedly found it and compared it with the letter. Then his face grew troubled, for the writing was not the same.

"I'm afraid Mr. Lansing never got to Grant's," he said. "I'll ride over at once."

"Then I'm coming," Jake said shortly. "I'll bring the gun along."

Grierson lifted a clenched brown hand.

"So am I! If Mr. Lansing's hurt, somebody's got to pay!"

Edgar was stirred by something in their looks and voices; George had gained a hold on these men's loyalty which the regular payment of wages could never have given him. He merely signified a.s.sent, and, running out, sprang into the saddle. The others had evidently had their horses ready, for he heard them riding after him in a minute or two, though he was galloping recklessly through the bluff when they came up. The homestead was dark when they reached it, and they shouted once or twice before Grant came down.

"Is George here?" Edgar asked.

"No," said Grant, "we didn't expect him."

"Then get on your clothes quick! There's work on hand!"

Grant brought him in and struck a light, then hurriedly left the room; and Flora came with him, fully dressed, when he reappeared. Edgar supposed she had heard his sharp inquiry at the door, and he noticed that her expression was strained. He threw the note on the table.

"After what you said, I needn't ask if you wrote that."

"I didn't," Grant told him. "It's not like my hand. I suppose Lansing started when he got it and has not come back?"

"You have guessed right. Where are they likely to have waylaid him, and where will they probably take him?"

"The bluff, sure. They might head north for empty country, or south for the frontier."

"The frontier," Flora broke in.

"It's what I think," said Edgar. "Shall I send a man for Flett, or will you?"

"That's fixed, anyway," said a voice outside the open door. "We're not going."

It was obvious that the hired men had followed them as far as the pa.s.sage, for Grierson, entering the room, explained:

"He means we've made up our minds to look for Mr. Lansing."

Grant nodded in a.s.sent.

"Then my man goes. Turn out the boys, Jake; you know the place. I want three horses saddled, quick."

"Four," said Flora, firmly. "I'm coming."

Grant did not try to dissuade her.

"Write to Flett," he said.

He went out hastily in search of blankets and provisions, and when he returned, his hired men had gathered about the door and the note was finished. He threw it to one of them.

"Ride with that as hard as you can," he said, and called another, "You'll come with us."