to the last man-第44章

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he　was　compelled　to　abandon　the　walk　across　the　tips　of　the　manzanita
bushes　and　take　to　the　winding；　open　threads　that　ran　between。　　It　would
have　been　poor　sight　indeed　that　could　not　have　followed　Queen's
labyrinthine　and　broken　passage　through　the　brush。　　Then　the　time
came　when　Jean　espied　Queen；　far　ahead　and　above；　crawling　like　a
black　bug　along　the　bright…green　slope。　　Sight　then　acted　upon　Jean
as　upon　a　hound　in　the　chase。　　But　he　governed　his　actions　if　he
could　not　govern　his　instincts。　　Slowly　but　surely　he　followed　the
dusty；　hot　trail；　and　never　a　patch　of　blood　failed　to　send　a　thrill
along　his　veins。

Queen；　headed　up　toward　the　Rim；　finally　vanished　from　sight。　　Had　he
fallen？　　Was　he　hiding？　　But　the　hour　disclosed　that　he　was　crawling。
Jean's　keen　eye　caught　the　slow　moving　of　the　brush　and　enabled　him
to　keep　just　so　close　to　the　rustler；　out　of　range　of　the　six…shooters
he　carried。　　And　so　all　the　interminable　hours　of　the　hot　afternoon
that　snail…pace　flight　and　pursuit　kept　on。

Halfway　up　the　Rim　the　growth　of　manzanita　gave　place　to　open；　yellow；
rocky　slope　dotted　with　cedars。　　Queen　took　to　a　slow…ascending　ridge
and　left　his　bloody　tracks　all　the　way　to　the　top；　where　in　the
gathering　darkness　the　weary　pursuer　lost　them。

Another　night　passed。　　Daylight　was　relentless　to　the　rustler。　　He　could
not　hide　his　trail。　　But　somehow　in　a　desperate　last　rally　of　strength
he　reached　a　point　on　the　heavily　timbered　ridge　that　Jean　recognized
as　being　near　the　scene　of　the　fight　in　the　canyon。　　Queen　was　nearing
the　rendezvous　of　the　rustlers。　　Jean　crossed　tracks　of　horses；　and　then
more　tracks　that　he　was　certain　had　been　made　days　past　by　his　own　party。
To　the　left　of　this　ridge　must　be　the　deep　canyon　that　had　frustrated
his　efforts　to　catch　up　with　the　rustlers　on　the　day　Blaisdell　lost　his
life；　and　probably　Bill　Isbel；　too。　　Something　warned　Jean　that　he　was　
nearing　the　end　of　the　trail；　and　an　unaccountable　sense　of　imminent
catastrophe　seemed　foreshadowed　by　vague　dreads　and　doubts　in　his
gloomy　mind。　　Jean　felt　the　need　of　rest；　of　food；　of　ease　from　the
strain　of　the　last　weeks。　　But　his　spirit　drove　him　implacably。

Queen's　rally　of　strength　ended　at　the　edge　of　an　open；　bald　ridge　that
was　bare　of　brush　or　grass　and　was　surrounded　by　a　line　of　forest　on
three　sides；　and　on　the　fourth　by　a　low　bluff　which　raised　its　gray
head　above　the　pines。　　Across　this　dusty　open　Queen　had　crawled；
leaving　unmistakable　signs　of　his　condition。　　Jean　took　long　survey
of　the　circle　of　trees　and　of　the　low；　rocky　eminence；　neither　of　which
he　liked。　　It　might　be　wiser　to　keep　to　cover；　Jean　thought；　and　work
around　to　where　Queen's　trail　entered　the　forest　again。　　But　he　was　
tired；　gloomy；　and　his　eternal　vigilance　was　failing。　　Nevertheless；
he　stilled　for　the　thousandth　time　that　bold　prompting　of　his　vengeance
and；　taking　to　the　edge　of　the　forest；　he　went　to　considerable　pains　to
circle　the　open　ground。　　And　suddenly　sight　of　a　man　sitting　back
against　a　tree　halted　Jean。

He　stared　to　make　sure　his　eyes　did　not　deceive　him。　　Many　times　stumps
and　snags　and　rocks　had　taken　on　strange　resemblance　to　a　standing　or
crouching　man。　　This　was　only　another　suggestive　blunder　of　the　mind
behind　his　eyeswhat　he　wanted　to　see　he　imagined　he　saw。　　Jean　glided
on　from　tree　to　tree　until　he　made　sure　that　this　sitting　image　indeed
was　that　of　a　man。　　He　sat　bolt　upright；　facing　back　across　the　open；
hands　resting　on　his　kneesand　closer　scrutiny　showed　Jean　that　he
held　a　gun　in　each　hand。

Queen！　　At　the　last　his　nerve　had　revived。　　He　could　not　crawl　any
farther；　he　could　never　escape；　so　with　the　courage　of　fatality　he
chose　the　open；　to　face　his　foe　and　die。　　Jean　had　a　thrill　of
admiration　for　the　rustler。　　Then　he　stalked　out　from　under　the
pines　and　strode　forward　with　his　rifle　ready。

A　watching　man　could　not　have　failed　to　espy　Jean。　　But　Queen　never
made　the　slightest　move。　　Moreover；　his　stiff；　unnatural　position
struck　Jean　so　singularly　that　he　halted　with　a　muttered　exclamation。
He　was　now　about　fifty　paces　from　Queen；　within　range　of　those　small　
guns。　　Jean　called；　sharply；　〃QUEEN！〃　Still　the　figure　never　relaxed
in　the　slightest。

Jean　advanced　a　few　more　paces；　rifle　up；　ready　to　fire　the　instant
Queen　lifted　a　gun。　　The　man's　immobility　brought　the　cold　sweat　to
Jean's　brow。　　He　stopped　to　bend　the　full　intense　power　of　his　gaze
upon　this　inert　figure。　　Suddenly　over　Jean　flashed　its　meaning。
Queen　was　dead。　　He　had　backed　up　against　the　pine；　ready　to　face
his　foe；　and　he　had　died　there。　　Not　a　shadow　of　a　doubt　entered　Jean's
mind　as　he　started　forward　again。　　He　knew。　　After　all；　Queen's　blood
would　not　be　on　his　hands。　　Gordon　and　Fredericks　in　their　death　throes
had　given　the　rustler　mortal　wounds。　　Jean　kept　on；　marveling　the　while。
How　ghastly　thin　and　hard！　　Those　four　days　of　flight　had　been　hell
for　Queen。

Jean　reached　himlooked　down　with　staring　eyes。　　The　guns　were　tied
to　his　hands。　　Jean　started　violently　as　the　whole　direction　of　his
mind　shifted。　　A　lightning　glance　showed　that　Queen　had　been　propped
against　the　treeanother　showed　boot　tracks　in　the　dust。

〃By　Heaven；　they've　fooled　me！〃　hissed　Jean；　and　quickly　as　he　leaped
behind　the　pine　he　was　not　quick　enough　to　escape　the　cunning　rustlers
who　had　waylaid　him　thus。　　He　felt　the　shock；　the　bite　and　burn　of　lead
before　he　heard　a　rifle　crack。　　A　bullet　had　ripped　through　his　left
forearm。　　From　behind　the　tree　he　saw　a　puff　of　white　smoke　along　the
face　of　the　bluffthe　very　spot　his　keen　and　gloomy　vigilance　had
descried　as　one　of　menace。　　Then　several　puffs　of　white　smoke　and
ringing　reports　betrayed　the　ambush　of　the　tricksters。　　Bullets　barked
the　pine　and　whistled　by。　　Jean　saw　a　man　dart　from　behind　a　rock　and；
leaning　over；　run　for　another。　　Jean's　swift　shot　stopped　him　midway。
He　fell；　got　up；　and　floundered　behind　a　bush　scarcely　large　enough　to
conceal　him。　　Into　that　bush　Jean　shot　again　and　again。　　He　had　no　pain
in　his　wounded　arm；　but　the　sense　of　the　shock　clung　in　his　consciousness；
and　this；　with　the　tremendous　surprise　of　the　deceit；　and　sudden　release
of　long…dammed　overmastering　passion；　caused　him　to　empty　the　magazine　of
his　Winchester　in　a　terrible　haste　to　kill　the　man　he　had　hit。

These　were　all　the　loads　he　had　for　his　rifle。　　Blood　passion　had　made
him　blunder。　　Jean　cursed　himself；　and　his　hand　moved　to　his　belt。　　His
six…shooter　was　gone。　　The　sheath　had　been　loose。　　He　had　tied　the　gun
fast。　　But　the　strings　had　been　torn　apart。　　The　rustlers　were　shooting
again。　　Bullets　thudded　into　the　pine　and　whistled　by。　　Bending
carefully；　Jean　reached　one　of　Queen's　guns　and　jerked　it　from　his　hand。
The　weapon　was　empty。　　Both　of　his　guns　were　empty。　　Jean　peeped　out
again　to　get　the　line　in　which　the　bullets　were　coming　and；　marking　a
course　from　his　position　to　the　cover　of　the　forest；　he　ran　with　all
his　might。　　He　gained　the　shelter。　　Shrill　yells　behind　warned　him　that
he　had　been　seen；　that　his　reason　for　flight　had　been　guessed。　　Looking
back；　he　saw　two　or　three　men　scrambling　down　the　bluff。　　Then　the　loud
neigh　of　a　frightened　horse　pealed　out。

Jean　discarded　his　useless　rifle；　and　headed　down　the　ridge　slope；
keeping　to　the　thickest　line　of　pines　and　sheering　around　the　clumps
of　spruce。　　As　he　ran；　his　mind　whirled　with　grim　thoughts　of　escape；
of　his　necessity　to　find　the　camp　where　Gordon　and　Fredericks　were
buried；　there　to　procure　another　rifle　and　ammunition。　　He　felt　the
wet　blood　dripping　down　his　arm；　yet　no　pain。　　The　forest　was　too　open
for　good　cover。　　He　dared　not　run　uphill。　　His　only　course　was　ahead；
and　that　soon　ended　in　an　abrupt　declivity　too　precipitous　to　descend。
As　be　halted；　panting　for　breath；　he　heard　the　ring　of　hoofs　on　stone；
then　the　thudding　beat　of　running　horses　on　soft　ground。　　The　rustlers
had　sighted　the　direction　he　had　taken。　　Jean　did　not　waste　time　to
look。　　Indeed；　there　was　no　need；　for　as　he　bounded　along　the　cliff　to
the　right　a　rifle　cracked　and　a　bullet　whizzed　over　his　head。　　It　lent
wings　to　his　feet。　　Like　a　deer　he　sped　along；　leaping　cracks　and　logs
and　rocks；　his　ears　filled　by　the　rush　of　wind；　until　his　quick　eye
caught　sight　of　thick…growing　spruce　foliage　close　to　the　precipice。
He　sprang　down　into　the　green　mass。　　His　weight　precipitated　him　through
the　upper　branches。　　But　lower　down　his　spread　arms　broke　his　fall；
then　retarded　it　until　he　caught。　　A　long；　swaying　limb　let　him　down
and　down；　where　he　grasped　another　and　a　stiffer　one　that　held　his　weight。
Hand　over　hand　he　worked　toward　the　trunk　of　this　spruce　and；　gaining　it；
he　found　other　branches　close　together　down　which　he　hastened；　hold　by
hold　and　step　by　step；　until　all　above　him　was　black；　dense　foliage；
and　beneath　him　the　brown；　shady　slope。　　Sure　of　being　unseen　from　above；
he　glided　noiselessly　down　under　the　trees；　slowly　regaining　freedom
from　that　constriction　of　his　breast。

Passing　on　to　a　gray…lichened　cliff；　overhanging　and　gloomy；　he　paused
there　to　rest　and　to　listen。　　A　faint　crack　of　hoof　on　stone　came　to
him　from　above；　apparently　farther　on　to　the　right。　　Eventually　his
pursuers　would　discover　that　he　had　taken　to　the　canyon。　　But　for　the
moment　he　felt　safe。　　The　wound　in　his　forearm　drew　his　attention。
The　bullet　had　gone　clear　through　without　breaking　either　bone。
His　shirt　sleeve　was　soaked　　with　blood。　　Jean　rolled　it　back　and
tightly　wrapped　his　scarf　around　the　wound；　yet　still　the　dark…red
blood　oozed　out　and　dripped　down　into　his　hand。　　He　became　aware　of
a　dull；　throbbing　pain。

Not　much　time　did　Jean　waste　in　arriving　at　what　was　best　to　do。
For　the　time　being　he　had　escaped；　and　whatever　had　been　his　peril；
it　was　past。　　In　dense；　rugged　country　like　this　he　could　not　be
caught　by　rustlers。　　But　he　had　only　a　knife　left　for　a　weapon；
and　there　was　very　little　meat　in　the　pocket　of　his　coat。　　Salt　and
matches　he　possessed。　　Therefore　the　imperative　need　was　for　him　to
find　the　last　camp；　where　he　could　get　rifle　and　ammunition；　bake　bread；
and　rest　up　before　taking　again　the　trail　of　the　rustlers。　　He　had　reason
to　believe　that　this　canyon　was　the　one　where　the　fight　on　the　Rim；
and　later；　on　a　bench　of　woodland　below；　had　taken　place。

Thereupon　he　arose　and　glided　down　under　the　spruces　toward　the　level；
grassy　open　he　could　see　between　the　trees。　　And　as　he　proceeded；
with　the　slow　step　and　wary　eye　of　an　Indian；　his　mind　was　busy。

Queen　had　in　his　flight　unerringly　worked　in　the　direction　of　this
canyon　until　he　became　lost　in　the　fog；　and　upon　regaining　his　bearings
he　had　made　a　wonderful　and　heroic　effort　to　surmount　the　manzanita
slope　and　the　Rim　and　find　the　rendezvous　of　his　comrades。　　But　he　had
failed　up　there　on　the　ridge。　　In　thinking　it　over　Jean　arrived　at　a
conclusion　that　Queen；　finding　be　could　go　no　farther；　had　waited；
guns　in　hands；　for　his　pursuer。　　And　he　had　died　in　this　position。
Then　by　strange　coincidence　his　comrades　had　happened　to　come　across
him　and；　recognizing　the　situation；　they　had　taken　the　shells　from　his
guns　and　propped　him　up　with　the　idea　of　luring