Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 01 - The Range Robbers(1930) by Oliver Strange Read Free Book Online

catch
him nosin’ round here, bump him off. There won’t be no inquiries, an’ if there is, it’ll be put down to Injuns, if yo’re careful.’
                 The
other man laughed shortly, and guessing that the visitor was about to leave,
Green retreated to the bushes. In a few moments Rattler appeared, mounted, and
rode off in the direction of the ranch. Green waited patiently, and at the end
of about half an hour, Nugget came out carrying a saddle and lariat. In a
little clearing not far from the cabin was a rough corral. Nugget roped the
sole occupant, a savage-looking cowpony, adjusted the saddle, and took a dim
trail which appeared to lead to the mountains.
                 “Bet
m’self two dollars he’s headed for the Double X,’ Green soliloquized. “I’ll
have to see if I win.’
                 Keeping
well in the background, he followed the tracks of the man in front. The trail,
which was obviously very little used, wound in and out among the trees and
undergrowth, which here and there almost obstructed it. Nugget was evidently
taking his time over the trip, and once the pursuer was near enough to get a
whiff of rank tobacco. He at once slowed down. He had no fear of losing his
man, for the ground was soft, and the hoof-marks of the pony showed clearly.
For over an hour he jogged steadily on, and then found himself on the rim of a
deep valley, treeless and covered with lush grass. Halfway down the long slope
he could see his quarry trotting leisurely towards the other side. He waited
until Nugget vanished over the far skyline, and then followed at a fast lope.
                 As
he expected, the miner had disappeared, but his trail led down a long incline
covered with pine and clumps of undergrowth. Green pressed on, anxious to make
up the time he had been forced to waste at the valley. Rounding a tree-covered
pinnacle of rock, he suddenly pulled his horse back on its haunches. In front
of him, running at right angles, lay a broad open
trail, scored with innumerable footprints of horse and cattle. Those of the
rider in front could no longer be distinguished. Green swore softly.
                 “Hell!’
he said. “ Gotta take a chance now, Blue. But what’s a
big trail like this a-doin’ here?’
                 The
animal’s answer was a movement to the left, and his master, who had the
superstitions as well as the instincts of a gambler, accepted the hint. Mile
after mile they followed the trail, which twisted and turned round hills and
gullies in a way that showed foresight on the part of those who had first used
it.
                 “Feller
could take a tidy bunch o’ cows over this, an’ at a good lick,’ muttered the
cowpuncher.
                 An
hour’s hard riding brought him no sight of the man he was tracking. The
cattle-trail, moreover, came to an end on the bank of a wide but shallow stream
which emerged from the jaws of a dark and narrow canyon. Into this for some
distance the trailer penetrated, scanning the banks of the stream carefully,
but no trace of horse or cow rewarded him. On either hand the living rock,
sparsely clothed with vegetation, rose almost vertically, while straight ahead
a blank wall of rock indicated that the canyon was a blind one.
                 “An’
cows ain’t got wings,’ Green said, adding to his unspoken thought.
                 He
turned back to where the trail ended, crossed the water, and struck out over an
expanse of shale-covered ground. It proved to be more than a mile wide, and on
the other side of it, he found cattle sign again.
                 He
pressed on, passing now through deep forest, then a stretch of open grassland,
while at times the trail dipped into deep, savage gullies, hewn by Nature out
of the bare rock and draped with spare vegetation. Emerging from one of these,
he saw a bit of rolling prairie, shut in by wooded hills, and