Part 23 (1/2)
”Me Marie,” replied the woman.
”Where are Kut-le and the others?”
”Kut-le here. Others in mountain. You much sick, three days.”
Rhoda sighed. Would this kaleidoscope of misery never end!
”I am very tired of it all,” she said. ”I think it would have been kinder if you had let me die. Will you help me to get back to my white friends?”
Marie shook her head.
”Kut-le friend. We take care Kut-le's squaw.”
Rhoda turned wearily on her side.
”Go away and let me sleep,” she said.
CHAPTER XII
THE CROSSING TRAILS
As Kut-le, with Rhoda in his arms, disappeared into the mesa fissure, John DeWitt threw himself from his horse and was at the opening before the others had more than brought their horses to their haunches.
He was met by Alchise's rifle, with Alchise entirely hidden from view.
For a moment the four men stood panting and speechless. The encounter had been so sudden, so swift that they could not believe their senses.
Then Billy Porter uttered an oath that reverberated from the rocky wall.
”They will get to the top!” he cried. ”Jack, you and DeWitt get up there! Carlos and I will hold this!”
The two men mounted immediately and galloped along the mesa wall, looking for an ascent. Neither of them spoke but both were breathing hard, and through his blistered skin DeWitt's cheeks glowed feverishly.
For a mile up and down from the fissure the wall was a blank, except for a single wide split which did not come within fifty feet of the ground. After over half an hour of frantic search, DeWitt found, nearly three miles from the fissure, a rough spot where the wall gave back in a few narrow crumbling ledges.
”We'll have to leave the horses,” he said, ”and try that.”
Jack nodded tensely. They dismounted, pulled the reins over the horses' heads and started up the wall, John leading, carefully. One bitter lesson the desert was teaching him: haste in the hot country spells ruin! So, though Rhoda's voice still rang in his ears, though the sight of the slender boyish figure struggling in Kut-le's arms still ravished his eyes, he worked carefully.
The ascent was all but impossible. The few jutting ledges were so narrow that foothold was precarious, so far apart that only the slight backward slant of the wall made it possible for them to flatten their bodies against the crumbling brown rock and thus keep from falling.
They toiled desperately, silently. After an hour of utmost effort, they reached the top, and with an exclamation of exultation started in the direction of the fissure. But their exultation was short-lived.
The great split that stopped fifty feet from the desert floor cut them off from the main mesa. They ran hastily along its edge but at no point was it to be crossed. Shortly DeWitt left Jack to follow it back and he hastened to the mesa front where he made a perilous descent and returned with the horses to Porter.
That gentleman forced John to eat some breakfast while Carlos rode hastily to scour the mesa front to the west. Porter and the Mexican had captured two of the horses and the burro that the Indians had left.
The other horses had run out into the desert back to the last spring they had camped at, Porter said. To DeWitt's great disappointment, the horses carried only blankets, and the burro was loaded with bacon and flour. There were none of Rhoda's personal belongings. The animals were in good condition, however, and the men annexed them to their outfit gladly.
John was torn betwixt hope and bitter disappointment.
”Do you think they could climb out of the fissure?” he asked half a dozen times, then without waiting for an answer, ”Did you see her face, Billy? I had just a glimpse! Didn't she look well! Just that one glance has put new life in me! I know we will get her! Even this cursed desert isn't wide enough to keep me from her! G.o.d help that Indian when I get him!”
Porter kept his eyes on Alchise's rifle which had never wavered in the past three hours.