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Bransford Of Rainbow Range

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<h3>CHAPTER XV</h3> <h2>GOOD-BY</h2> <div class="blockquot2">“They have ridden the low moon out of the sky; their hoofs drum up the dawn.”—Two Strong Men, Kipling. </div> “ I’m not speaking of her and I’m not going to,” protested Gibson, in a changed tone. “I’ll promise! My horse is failing, Jeff. I rode hard and fast from Escondido. Your horse carried nothing much but a saddle—that pack was mostly bluff, you know. And those fellows’ horses have come twenty miles less than either of ours.” No answer. “I don’t believe we’re going to make it, Jeff!” There was a forlorn little quaver in Charley’s voice. Jeff grunted. “Uh! Maybe not. Griffith’ll be real pleased.” Gibson rode closer. “Can’t we turn off the road and hide?” “Till daylight,” said Jeff. “Then they’ll get us. No way out of this desert except across the edges somewhere. You go if you want to. They won’t bother to hunt for you, maybe, if they get me.” [Pg 195] “No. It’s my fault.... I’ll see it out.... I’m sorry, Jeff—but it was so funny!” Here, rather to Jeff’s surprise, Charley’s dejection gave place to laughter. They rode up a sandy slope where mesquites grew black along the road. Blown sand had lodged to hummocks in their thick and matted growth; the road was a sunken way. “How far is it from here, Jeff?” “Ten miles—maybe only eight—to the river. We’re in Texas now—have been for an hour.” “Think we can make it?” “Quien sabe?” Gibson drew rein. “You go on. Your horse isn’t so tired.” “Oh, I guess not!” said Jeff. “Come on.” The sound of pursuit came clear through the quiet night. There was silence for a little. “What’ll you do, Jeff? Fight?” “I can’t!” said Jeff. “Hurt those boys? I couldn’t fight, the way it is—hardly, even if ’twas the sheriff. I’ll just hang, I reckon.” They reached the top of the little slope and turned down the other side. “I don’t altogether like this hanging idea,” said Gibson. “I got you into this, Jeff; so I’ll just get you out again—like the man in our town who was so wondrous wise. Going to use bramble bushes, too.” Volatile Gibson, in the stress of danger, had forgotten his wrath. He was light-hearted [Pg 196]and happy, frivolously gay. “Give me your rope and your gun, Jeff. Quick now! No, I won’t mention your girl—not once! Hurry!” “What you going to do?” asked Jeff, thoroughly mystified. “Ever read the ‘Fool’s Errand’?” Charley chuckled. “No? Well, I have. Jump off and tie the end of your rope to that mesquite root. Quick!” He sprang down, snatched one end of the coil from Jeff’s hand and stretched it taut across the road, a foot from the ground. “Now your gun! Quick!” He snatched the gun, tied an end of his own saddle-rope to the stretched one, near the middle, plunged through the mesquite, over a hummock, paying out his rope as he went; wedged the gun firmly in the springing crotch of a mesquite tree, cocked it and tied the loose end of the trailing rope to the trigger. He ran back and sprang on his horse. “Now ride! It’s our last chance!” “Kid, you’re a wonder!” said Jeff. “You’ll do to take along! They’ll lope up when they turn down that slope, hit that rope and pile in a heap!” “And my rope will fire the gun off!” shrilled joyous Charley. “They’ll think it’s us—an ambuscade——” [Pg 197] “They’ll take to the sand-hills,” Jeff broke in. “They’ll shoot into the bushes—they’ll think it’s us firing back, half the time.... They’ll scatter out and surround that lonesome, harmless motte and watch it till daylight. You bet they won’t go projecting round it any till daylight, either!” He looked up at the sky. “There’s the morning star. See it? ‘They have ridden the low moon out of the sky’—only there isn’t any moon—‘their hoofs drum up the dawn.’ Then they’ll find our tracks—and if I only could see the captain’s face! ‘Oh, my threshings, and the corn of my floor!’... And by then we’ll be in Mexico and asleep.... When Griffith finds that gun—oh, he’ll never show his head in Arcadia again!... Say, Charley, I hope none of ’em get hurt when they strike your skip-rope.” “Huh! It’s sandy! A heap you cared about me getting hurt when you dragged me from my horse!” said Gibson, rather snappishly. “You did hurt me, too. You nearly broke my neck and you cut my arms. And I got full of mesquite thorns when I set that gun. You don’t care! I’m only the man that came to save your neck. That’s the thanks I get! But the men that are trying to hang you—that’s different! You’d better go back. They might get hurt. You’ll be sorry sometime for the way you’ve treated me. There—it’s too late now!” A shot rang behind them. There was a brief [Pg 198]silence. Then came a sharp fusillade, followed by scattering shots, dwindling to longer intervals. Jeff clung to his saddle-horn. “I guess they ain’t hurt much,” he laughed. “Wish I could see ’em when they find out! Slow down, kid. We’ve got lots of time now.” “We haven’t,” protested Charley. “Keep moving. It’s hard on the horses, but they’ll have a lifetime to rest in. They’ve telegraphed all over the country. You want to cross the river before daylight. It would be too bad for you to be caught now! Is there any ford, do you know?” “Not this time of year. River’s up.” “Cross in a boat then?” “Guess we’d better. That horse of yours is pretty well used up. Don’t believe he could swim it.” “Oh, I’m not going over. I’ll get up to El Paso. I’ve got friends there.” “You’ll get caught.” “No, I won’t. I’m not going across, I tell you, and that’s all there is to it! I guess I’ll have something to say about things. I’m going to see you safely over, and that’s the last you’ll ever see of Charley Gibson.” “Oh, well!” Jeff reflected a little. “If you’re sure you won’t come along, I’d rather swim. My horse is strong yet. You see, it takes time to find a boat, and a boat means a house and dogs; [Pg 199]and I’ll need my horse on the other side. How’ll you get to El Paso? Griffith’ll likely come down here about an hour by sun, ’cross lots, a-cryin’.” “I’ll manage that,” said Gibson curtly enough. “You tend to your own affair.” “Oh, all right!” Jeff rode ahead. He whistled; then he chanted his war song: <div class="centerbox5 bbox2">“Said the little Eohippus: ‘I’m going to be a horse! And on my middle fingernails To run my earthly course!’ The Coryphodon was horrified; The Dinoceras was shocked; And they chased young Eohippus, But he skipped away and mocked. “Said they: ‘You always were as small And mean as now we see, And that’s conclusive evidence That you’re always going to be. What! Be a great, tall, handsome beast, With hoofs to gallop on? Why! You’d have to change your nature!’ Said the Loxolophodon.” </div> “Jeff!” “Well?” Jeff turned his head. Charley was drooping visibly. “Stop that foolish song!” Jeff rode on in silence. This was a variable [Pg 200]person, Gibson. They were dropping down from the mesa into the valley of the Rio Grande. “Jeff!” Jeff fell back beside Charley. “Tired, pardner?” “Jeff, I’m terribly tired! I’m not used to riding so far; and I’m sleepy—so sleepy!” “All right, pardner; we’ll go slower. We’ll walk. Most there now. There’s the railroad.” “Keep on trotting. I can stand it. We must get to the river before daylight. Is it far?” Charley’s voice was weary. The broad sombrero drooped sympathetically. “Two miles to the river. El Paso’s seven or eight miles up the line. Brace up, old man! You’ve done fine and dandy! It’s just because the excitement is all over. Why should you go any farther, anyhow? There’s Ysleta up the track a bit. Follow the road up there and flag the first train. That’ll be best.” “No, no. I’ll go all the way. I’ll make out.” Charley straightened himself with an effort. They crossed the Espee tracks and came to a lane between cultivated fields. “Jeff! I’d like to say something. It won’t be breaking my promise really.... I didn’t mean what I said about—you know. I was only teasing. She’s a good enough girl, I guess—as girls go.” Jeff nodded. “I did not need to be told that.” “And you left her in a cruel position when you [Pg 201]jumped out of the window. She can’t tell now, so long as there’s any other way. What a foolish thing to do! If you’d just said at first that you were in the garden——Oh, why didn’t you? But after the chances you took rather than to tell—why, Jeff, it would be terrible for her now.” “I know that, too,” said Jeff. “I suppose I was a fool; but I didn’t want her to get mixed up with it, and at the same time I cared less about hanging than any time I can remember. You see, I didn’t know till the last minute that the garden was going to cut any figure. And do you suppose I’d have that courthouseful of fools buzzing and whispering at her? Not much! Maybe it was foolish—but I’m glad I did it.” “I’m glad of it, too. If you had to be a fool,” said Charley, “I’m glad you were that kind of a fool. Are you still mad at me?” Since Charley had recanted, and more especially since he had taken considerate thought for the girl’s compulsory silence, Jeff’s anger had evaporated. “That’s all right, pardner.... Only you oughtn’t never to talk that way about a girl—even for a joke. That’s no good kind of a joke. Men, now, that’s different. See here, I’ll give you an order to a fellow in El Paso—Hibler—to pay for your horses and your gun. Here’s your belt, too.” Charley shook his head impatiently. “I don’t [Pg 202]want any money. Settle with Pappy for the horses. I won’t take this one back. Keep the belt. You may want it to beat me with sometime. What are you going to do, Jeff? Aren’t you ever coming back?” “Sure I’ll come back—if only to see Griffith again. I’ll write to John Wesley Pringle—he’s my mainest side pardner—and sick him on to find out who robbed that bank—to prove it, rather. I just about almost nearly know who it was. Old Wes’ll straighten things out a-flying. I’ll be back in no time. I got to come back, Charley!” The river was in sight. The stars were fading; there was a flush in the east, a smell of dawn in the air. “Jeff, I wish you’d do something for me.” “Sure, Charley. What is it?” “I wish you’d give me that little turquoise horse to remember you by.” Jeff was silent for a little. He had framed out another plan for the little eohippus—namely, to give him to Miss Ellinor. He sighed; but he owed a good deal to Charley. “All right, Charley. Take good care of him—he’s a lucky little horse. I think a heap of him. Here we are!” The trees were distinct in the growing light. Jeff rode into the river; the muddy water swirled about his horse’s knees. He halted for parting; Gibson rode in beside him. Jeff took the precious [Pg 203]Alice book from his bosom, put it in the crown of his miner’s cap and jammed the cap tightly on his head. “Better change your mind, Charley. Come along. We’ll rout somebody out and order a dish of stewed eggs. <div class="centerbox4 bbox2">“There is another shore, you know, upon the other side. The farther off from England the nearer ’tis to France; Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance. Will you—won’t you——” </div> “‘No, I won’t! I told you once!’” snapped the beloved snail. “Here’s the little eohippus horse then.” As Charley took it Jeff wrung his hand. “By George, I’ve got to change my notion of Arcadia people. If there’s many like you and Griffith, Arcadia’s going to crowd the map!... Well—so long!” “It looks awful wide, Jeff!” “Oh, I’ll be all right—swim it myself if the horse plays out—and if I don’t have no cramps, as I might, of course, after this ride. Well—here goes nothin’! Take care of the little horse. I hope he brings you good luck!” “Well—so long, then!” Bransford rode into the muddy waters. They came to the horse’s breast, his neck; he plunged [Pg 204]in, sank, rose, and was borne away down the swift current, breasting the flood stoutly—and so went quartering across to the farther bank. It took a long time. It was quite light when the horse found footing on a sandbar half a mile below, rested, and splashed whitely through the shallows to the bank. Gibson swung his sombrero. Jeff waved his hand, rode to the fringing bushes, and was gone. <hr class="large" />[Pg 205] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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