riders of the purple sage-第7章

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accusation　of　bitterness；　he　tried　hard　to　put　aside　his　rancor　in　judging　Tull。　But　it　was　bitter　knowledge　that　made　him　see　the　truth。　He　had　felt　the　shadow　of　an　unseen　hand；　he　had　watched　till　he　saw　its　dim　outline；　and　then　he　had　traced　it　to　a　man's　hate；　to　the　rivalry　of　a　Mormon　Elder；　to　the　power　of　a　Bishop；　to　the　long；　far…reaching　arm　of　a　terrible　creed。　That　unseen　hand　had　made　its　first　move　against　Jane　Withersteen。　Her　riders　had　been　called　in；　leaving　her　without　help　to　drive　seven　thousand　head　of　cattle。　But　to　Venters　it　seemed　extraordinary　that　the　power　which　had　called　in　these　riders　had　left　so　many　cattle　to　be　driven　by　rustlers　and　harried　by　wolves。　For　hand　in　glove　with　that　power　was　an　insatiate　greed；　they　were　one　and　the　same。

〃What　can　Oldring　do　with　twenty…five　hundred　head　of　cattle？〃　muttered　Venters。　〃Is　he　a　Mormon？　Did　he　meet　Tull　last　night？　It　looks　like　a　black　plot　to　me。　But　Tull　and　his　churchmen　wouldn't　ruin　Jane　Withersteen　unless　the　Church　was　to　profit　by　that　ruin。　Where　does　Oldring　come　in？　I'm　going　to　find　out　about　these　things。〃

Wrangle　did　the　twenty…five　miles　in　three　hours　and　walked　little　of　the　way。　When　he　had　gotten　warmed　up　he　had　been　allowed　to　choose　his　own　gait。　The　afternoon　had　well　advanced　when　Venters　struck　the　trail　of　the　red　herd　and　found　where　it　had　grazed　the　night　before。　Then　Venters　rested　the　horse　and　used　his　eyes。　Near　at　hand　were　a　cow　and　a　calf　and　several　yearlings；　and　farther　out　in　the　sage　some　straggling　steers。　He　caught　a　glimpse　of　coyotes　skulking　near　the　cattle。　The　slow　sweeping　gaze　of　the　rider　failed　to　find　other　living　things　within　the　field　of　sight。　The　sage　about　him　was　breast…high　to　his　horse；　oversweet　with　its　warm；　fragrant　breath；　gray　where　it　waved　to　the　light；　darker　where　the　wind　left　it　still；　and　beyond　the　wonderful　haze…purple　lent　by　distance。　Far　across　that　wide　waste　began　the　slow　lift　of　uplands　through　which　Deception　Pass　cut　its　tortuous　many…canyoned　way。

Venters　raised　the　bridle　of　his　horse　and　followed　the　broad　cattle　trail。　The　crushed　sage　resembled　the　path　of　a　monster　snake。　In　a　few　miles　of　travel　he　passed　several　cows　and　calves　that　had　escaped　the　drive。　Then　he　stood　on　the　last　high　bench　of　the　slope　with　the　floor　of　the　valley　beneath。　The　opening　of　the　canyon　showed　in　a　break　of　the　sage；　and　the　cattle　trail　paralleled　it　as　far　as　he　could　see。　That　trail　led　to　an　undiscovered　point　where　Oldring　drove　cattle　into　the　pass；　and　many　a　rider　who　had　followed　it　had　never　returned。　Venters　satisfied　himself　that　the　rustlers　had　not　deviated　from　their　usual　course；　and　then　he　turned　at　right　angles　off　the　cattle　trail　and　made　for　the　head　of　the　pass。

The　sun　lost　its　heat　and　wore　down　to　the　western　horizon；　where　it　changed　from　white　to　gold　and　rested　like　a　huge　ball　about　to　roll　on　its　golden　shadows　down　the　slope。　Venters　watched　the　lengthening　of　the　rays　and　bars；　and　marveled　at　his　own　league…long　shadow。　The　sun　sank。　There　was　instant　shading　of　brightness　about　him；　and　he　saw　a　kind　of　cold　purple　bloom　creep　ahead　of　him　to　cross　the　canyon；　to　mount　the　opposite　slope　and　chase　and　darken　and　bury　the　last　golden　flare　of　sunlight。

Venters　rode　into　a　trail　that　he　always　took　to　get　down　into　the　canyon。　He　dismounted　and　found　no　tracks　but　his　own　made　days　previous。　Nevertheless　he　sent　the　dog　Ring　ahead　and　waited。　In　a　little　while　Ring　returned。　Whereupon　Venters　led　his　horse　on　to　the　break　in　the　ground。

The　opening　into　Deception　Pass　was　one　of　the　remarkable　natural　phenomena　in　a　country　remarkable　for　vast　slopes　of　sage；　uplands　insulated　by　gigantic　red　walls；　and　deep　canyons　of　mysterious　source　and　outlet。　Here　the　valley　floor　was　level；　and　here　opened　a　narrow　chasm；　a　ragged　vent　in　yellow　walls　of　stone。　The　trail　down　the　five　hundred　feet　of　sheer　depth　always　tested　Venters's　nerve。　It　was　bad　going　for　even　a　burro。　But　Wrangle；　as　Venters　led　him；　snorted　defiance　or　disgust　rather　than　fear；　and；　like　a　hobbled　horse　on　the　jump；　lifted　his　ponderous　iron…shod　fore　hoofs　and　crashed　down　over　the　first　rough　step。　Venters　warmed　to　greater　admiration　of　the　sorrel；　and；　giving　him　a　loose　bridle；　he　stepped　down　foot　by　foot。　Oftentimes　the　stones　and　shale　started　by　Wrangle　buried　Venters　to　his　knees；　again　he　was　hard　put　to　it　to　dodge　a　rolling　boulder；　there　were　times　when　he　could　not　see　Wrangle　for　dust；　and　once　he　and　the　horse　rode　a　sliding　shelf　of　yellow；　weathered　cliff。　It　was　a　trail　on　which　there　could　be　no　stops；　and；　therefore；　if　perilous；　it　was　at　least　one　that　did　not　take　long　in　the　descent。

Venters　breathed　lighter　when　that　was　over；　and　felt　a　sudden　assurance　in　the　success　of　his　enterprise。　For　at　first　it　had　been　a　reckless　determination　to　achieve　something　at　any　cost；　and　now　it　resolved　itself　into　an　adventure　worthy　of　all　his　reason　and　cunning；　and　keenness　of　eye　and　ear。

Pinyon　pines　clustered　in　little　clumps　along　the　level　floor　of　the　pass。　Twilight　had　gathered　under　the　walls。　Venters　rode　into　the　trail　and　up　the　canyon。　Gradually　the　trees　and　caves　and　objects　low　down　turned　black；　and　this　blackness　moved　up　the　walls　till　night　enfolded　the　pass；　while　day　still　lingered　above。　The　sky　darkened；　and　stars　began　to　show；　at　first　pale　and　then　bright。　Sharp　notches　of　the　rim…wall；　biting　like　teeth　into　the　blue；　were　landmarks　by　which　Venters　knew　where　his　camping　site　lay。　He　had　to　feel　his　way　through　a　thicket　of　slender　oaks　to　a　spring　where　he　watered　Wrangle　and　drank　himself。　Here　he　unsaddled　and　turned　Wrangle　loose；　having　no　fear　that　the　horse　would　leave　the　thick；　cool　grass　adjacent　to　the　spring。　Next　he　satisfied　his　own　hunger；　fed　Ring　and　Whitie　and；　with　them　curled　beside　him；　composed　himself　to　await　sleep。

There　had　been　a　time　when　night　in　the　high　altitude　of　these　Utah　uplands　had　been　satisfying　to　Venters。　But　that　was　before　the　oppression　of　enemies　had　made　the　change　in　his　mind。　As　a　rider　guarding　the　herd　he　had　never　thought　of　the　night's　wildness　and　loneliness；　as　an　outcast；　now　when　the　full　silence　set　in；　and　the　deep　darkness；　and　trains　of　radiant　stars　shone　cold　and　calm；　he　lay　with　an　ache　in　his　heart。　For　a　year　he　had　lived　as　a　black　fox；　driven　from　his　kind。　He　longed　for　the　sound　of　a　voice；　the　touch　of　a　hand。　In　the　daytime　there　was　riding　from　place　to　place；　and　the　gun　practice　to　which　something　drove　him；　and　other　tasks　that　at　least　necessitated　action；　at　night；　before　he　won　sleep；　there　was　strife　in　his　soul。　He　yearned　to　leave　the　endless　sage　slopes；　the　wilderness　of　canyons；　and　it　was　in　the　lonely　night　that　this　yearning　grew　unbearable。　It　was　then　that　he　reached　forth　to　feel　Ring　or　Whitie；　immeasurably　grateful　for　the　love　and　companionship　of　two　dogs。

On　this　night　the　same　old　loneliness　beset　Venters；　the　old　habit　of　sad　thought　and　burning　unquiet　had　its　way。　But　from　it　evolved　a　conviction　that　his　useless　life　had　undergone　a　subtle　change。　He　had　sensed　it　first　when　Wrangle　swung　him　up　to　the　high　saddle；　he　knew　it　now　when　he　lay　in　the　gateway　of　Deception　Pass。　He　had　no　thrill　of　adventure；　rather　a　gloomy　perception　of　great　hazard；　perhaps　death。　He　meant　to　find　Oldring's　retreat。　The　rustlers　had　fast　horses；　but　none　that　could　catch　Wrangle。　Venters　knew　no　rustler　could　creep　upon　him　at　night　when　Ring　and　Whitie　guarded　his　hiding…place。　For　the　rest；　he　had　eyes　and　ears；　and　a　long　rifle　and　an　unerring　aim；　which　he　meant　to　use。　Strangely　his　foreshadowing　of　change　did　not　hold　a　thought　of　the　killing　of　Tull。　It　related　only　to　what　was　to　happen　to　him　in　Deception　Pass；　and　he　could　no　more　lift　the　veil　of　that　mystery　than　tell　where　the　trails　led　to　in　that　unexplored　canyon。　Moreover；　he　did　not　care。　And　at　length；　tired　out　by　stress　of　thought；　he　fell　asleep。

When　his　eyes　unclosed；　day　had　come　again；　and　he　saw　the　rim　of　the　opposite　wall　tipped　with　the　gold　of　sunrise。　A　few　moments　sufficed　for　the　morning's　simple　camp　duties。　Near　at　hand　he　found　Wrangle；　and　to　his　surprise　the　horse　came　to　him。　Wrangle　was　one　of　the　horses　that　left　his　viciousness　in　the　home　corral。　What　he　wanted　was　to　be　free　of　mules　and　burros　and　steers；　to　roll　in　dust…patches；　and　then　to　run　down　the　wide；　open；　windy　sage…plains；　and　at　night　browse　and　sleep　in　the　cool　wet　grass　of　a　springhole。　Jerd　knew　the　sorrel　when　he　said　of　him；　〃Wait　till　he　smells　the　sage！〃

Venters　saddled　and　led　him　out　of　the　oak　thicket；　and；　leaping　astride；　rode　up　the　canyon；　with　Ring　and　Whitie　trotting　behind。　An　old　grass…grown　trail　followed　the　course　of　a　shallow　wash　where　flowed　a　thin　stream　of　water。　The　canyon　was　a　hundred　rods　wide；　its　yellow　walls　were　perpendicular；　it　had　abundant　sage　and　a　scant　growth　of　oak　and　pinon。　For　five　miles　it　held　to　a　comparatively　straight　bearing；　and　then　began　a　heightening　of　rugged　walls　and　a　deepening　of　the　floor。　Beyond　this　point　of　sudden　change　in　the　character　of　the　canyon　Venters　had　never　explored；　and　here　was　the　real　door　to　the　intricacies　of　Deception　Pass。

He　reined　Wrangle　to　a　walk；　halted　now　and　then　to　listen；　and　then　proceeded　cautiously　with　shifting　and　alert　gaze。　The　canyon　assumed　proportions　that　dwarfed　those　of　its　first　ten　miles。　Venters　rode　on　and　on；　not　losing　in　the　interest　of　his　wide　surroundings　any　of　his　caution　or　keen　search　for　tracks　or　sight　of　living　thing。　If　there　ever　had　been　a　trail　here；　he　could　not　find　it。　He　rode　through　sage　and　clumps　of　pinon　trees　and　grassy　plots　where　long…petaled　purple　lilies　bloomed。　He　rode　through　a　dark　constriction　of　the　pass　no　wider　than　the　lane　in　the　grove　at　Cottonwoods。　And　he　came　out　into　a　great　amphitheater　into　which　jutted　huge　towering　corners　of　a　confluences　of　intersecting　canyons。

Venters　sat　his　horse；　and；　with　a　rider's　eye；　studied　this　wild　cross…cut　of　huge　stone　gullies。　Then　he　went　on；　guided　by　the　course　of　running　water。　If　it　had　not　been　for　the　main　stream　of　water　flowing　north　he　would　never　have　been　able　to　tell　which　of　those　many　openings　was　a　continuation　of　the　pass。　In　crossing　this　amphitheater　he　went　by　the　mouths　of　five　canyons；　fording　little　streams　that　flowed　into　the　larger　one。　Gaining　the　outlet　which　he　took　to　be　the　pass；　he　rode　on　again　under　over　hanging　walls。　One　side　was　dark　in　shade；　the　other　light　in　sun。　This　narrow　passageway　turned　and　twisted　and　opened　into　a　valley　that　amazed　Venters。

Here　again　was　a　sweep　of　purple　sage；　richer　than　upon　the　higher　levels。　The　valley　was　miles　long；　several　wide；　and　inclosed　by　unscalable　walls。　But　it　was　the　background　of　this　valley　that　so　forcibly　struck　him。　Across　the　sage…flat　rose　a　strange　up…flinging　of　yellow　rocks。　He　could　not　tell　which　were　close　and　which　were　distant。　Scrawled　mounds　of　stone；　like　mountain　waves；　seemed　to　roll　up　to　steep　bare　slopes　and　towers。

In　this　plain　of　sage　Venters　flushed　birds　and　rabbits；　and　when　he　had　proceeded　about　a　mile　he　caught　sight　of　the　bobbing　white　tails　of　a　he