"SECOND TIME WEST"

Wairarapa Times-Age, 10 September 1938, Page 12

"SECOND TIME WEST"

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT

COPYRIGHT

BY

T. C. BRIDGES

(Author of “Watching Eyes,” “Seven Years’ Sentence,” etc.)

CHAPTER XIX— (Continued). “Nat,” he said, “I’d like to know how you found me.” “I seed you as you rode out of the town and watched the way you was going. I’d seed Miss Joan riding that way a few minutes before.” Jim laughed. “And you put two and two together and found yourself right. Nat, you never saw me till this week, but you may have heard of Jim Preston.” It took a good deal to startle the hardbitten Nat, but for once he was struck speechless. “I’m Jim Preston,” Jim went on and then Nat found his voice. “The fellow that shot Wesley Garnett?” “I could help that,” said Jim. Nat turned and looked at him. ‘‘And you come all the way back here to help out Miss Joan. And risked hanging to do it. I reckon you was white first time I seed you. Now I knows it.” He paused. “Does Dave know.” “Dave knows and the chap we call Chip Wilson. And of course Ward Haskell. But I don’t want it spread around.” Nat nodded. Reckon you know what you’re bucking,” he said presently. “I know,” said Jim gravely. “And I wish I hadn’t happened to run against Fame and Lopez today.” “How come?” Nat asked. “Lopez looked like a horse had kicked him in the face. Did' you do that?” For a second time Jim related his encounter with Fame and Lopez in the livery stable. Nat chuckled delightedly. “Knocked ’em both out. Gee, why wasn’t I there to see? Only pity it you didn’t hit a bit harder, Grant. If you’d broke Lopez’s neck you’d have saved a heap of trouble.” “I may get the chance yet,” said Jim quietly. “Anyhow I gave him something to remember me by.” - “I’ll say you did,” agreed Nat, and then the- pass became so steep and narrow the two could no longer ride abreast. Nat took the lead and Gray Boy struggled after. The trail was a mer,e ledge cutting across the face of a precipice. To the left was a chasm so steep the moonbeams failed to penetrate it, to the right was cliff broken by deep chasms. The whole of this towering mass of limestone was riddled with caves, many of which were once used as dwelling places by the strange race of cave people who preceded the North American Indians. They lived in the lower caves and used the upper ones for burial places. At the Painted Cross ranch house were some of their baskets woven centuries ago from cactus fibre, but still in perfect preservation.

Jim remembered that he had not yet asked Nat whether he knew of the identity of the mysterious Fishlock, but decided to wait till they reached better ground before doing so. At present he and Nat had their work cut out to keep the path at all. Gray Boy was good as gold. He picked his way as cleverly as a mule, but Nat’s beast, younger and less experienced, was scared. “He ain’t .never done any of this work,” Nat said over his shoulder. “Reckon I’ll get off and lead him the last piece.” He swung out of the saddle, and as he did so the crack of a rifle split the silence and Nat’s horse, •shot through the head, fell over sideways and went crashing down into the depths. The sound had hardly reached Jim’s ears before he was off. His quickness probably saved his life, for a second bullet hissed overhead, struck a rock and ricochetted away with a vicious ping. Before their unseen assailant could fire a third time Nat, Jim and Gray Boy were behind the shelter of a projecting spur. “So them hounds got aherid of us,” said Nat. “Outguessed us,” said Jim. He glanced round. “Might be worse, Nat. There’s a cave mouth just behind us.” “Deep pit,” growled Nat. “It’s a hades of a place. Goes plump down into the middle of the earth.” “It’s shelter anyhow, and I can lead Gray Boy in.” “Come on then,” said Nat, “but I warn you it’s a bad place.” The was no more firing. Their attackers were not wasting ammunition, and between them Jim and Nat managed to drag Gray Boy up rocks so steep they were like a flight of broken stairs, into the mouth of the cave. Once inside, it was of course dark as pitch, but Nat struck a match and its glimmer showed a tunnel sloping downwards into the mountain. The cave seemed to be about twenty feet high. The floor was litered with fragments fallen from the roof, the walls were cut with deep crevases. Into one of these Jim led his horse, and pulled fhe reins over his head. The match went out, and all that he and Nat could see was the faint patch of moonlight which marked the opening. “We’re safe enough here,” said Jim in a low voice. “We can pile rocks and plug anyone who shows up against the light.” “Which is just what them Kettle Drum fellows ain’t going to do,” Nat answered, and there was in his voice a tone of gloom which Jim did not like at all. “What will they do?” he asked. “Keep us penned up here till the moon sets, then creep in on us. Likely there are half-adozen of ’em, and they don't means us to get out alive.” Jim was silent for a while. He was thinking hard, and the more he thought the more uncomfortable he felt. The moon would set about two, and then there would be no light for shooting. And with odds which were probably three to one his chance and Nat’s were slim. There was no possible hope of help from the ranch, for no one except Joan knew where they were, and it would not occur to her that could

have been ambushed in this fashion. If they were to get out with their lives from this trap they had to do it themselves. The urgent question was whether this was possible. Presently he spoke again. “We’ve got to outsmart them, Nat. You stay here and keep guard while I go in a bit further and have a look round.” “That won’t do you no good,” Nat told him. “The cave ends in a pit that ain’t got no bottom.” “How do you know? Have you been in to the end?” “I never been in, but an old chap, a ‘darkee’ something he called himself, came to the ranch one day and told us about it. If you go in, go cautious.” Jim went cautious, but all the same, he was nearly trapped. The slope grew steeper, and the floor changed to a mass of loose rubble. Suddenly he was on the rim of a black pit; one more step, and nothing could have saved him. He lit another match and saw the pit dropping apparently to the very bowels of the earth. He looked around and noticed a rock shelf about ten feet up in the left-hand wall. He climbed to it, and found there was room there for a dozen men. Then he came down, made his way back to Ngt, and told him what he had found. “We’ll be safe enough up there,” he said, “and if they come in after us we’ve got them all ends up.” “It’s a chance,” Nat agreed, but he did not seem very hopeful. “What’s the trouble?” Jim demanded. “Trouble is we ain’t got no grub or water, son. Some of ’em may come in after us, but it ain’t likely they’ll all come. And so long as any it outside we got to stay where we are.” “It’s no use worrying about that,” Jim told him. “Thing is to pack ourselves up on the shelf without delay.” The shelf was nearly six feet wide, and after moving aside some loose rocks the two were able to spread themselves comfortably. They lay in silence. They dared not talk for fear of betraying their hiding-place. Nor did they dare to smoke. Both had pistols and a fair supply of cartridges. If they had only had a canteen they could have held out for some days, but both knew that sooner or later thirst would drive them out.

Jim’s thoughts went back to Joan. That chance meeting by the river—it seemed an age ago instead of less than a fortnight. What a difference it had made to his life. He wondered what Nita would say or think could she see him crouched here in the blackness of this Western cave, beseiged by ruthless enemies. A good little pal was Nita, but Jim was honest with himself. He knew now that he had never been really in love with her, that their engagement was Mrs Vaughan’s doing, and that he had never known what love "was until his second meeting with Joan. Nat nudged him. “What are you groaning about cramp of stomach ache? “Just thinking,” Jim answered. “Don’t think so loud, Grant, or them scallawags are liable to hear you,’ Jim laughed softly. “All right, Nat.” . Time passed, the patch of faint light which showed the cave mouth dimmed. The moon was setting. Before long the attack would come. The minutes dragged by but nothing happened. Jim glanced at the luminous dial of his wrist-watch. It was nearly half-past two. Suddenly he heard a slight scraping sound. Nat heard it, to,, for Jim felt him move slightly. Then silence again but that sound had been enough. Both knew that Kettle Drum men were inside the cave. Jim drew a deep breath. He was glad the waiting was over. Anything was preferable to this long drawn suspense. He did not envy those men crawling on the floor below He felt sure that if they had known of the astonishing quantity of broken rock which littered the place, they would never have risked an advance through it. Another thing that made their task more difficult was the utter silence which reigned inside the cave. Although these men of Fame’s were doing their best to avoid making any sound a series of tiny clicks and rustling betrayed their steady advance. Nat moved restlessly, and Jim knew he was longing to start the war. He caught his companion’s arm in his finders with a strong, steady pressure, and felt the other relax. Still those below came on. They were, of course, expecting to run into a barricade. Then they would leap into action, flash a light and trust to their guns to finish off the two defenders. “Now’s our chance. The men outside the enemy were immediately below them. Then the sounds stopped altogether, and for some moments the pair strained their ears without hearing anything at all. Jim knew what had happened. The invaders had passed the rocks and reached the shale. They were puzzled and uncertain, and well they might be for the slope was so steep that Jim though they would hardly dare risk going further. Seconds passed before there was any fresh sound, then Nat turned and put his lips against Jim’s ear. “They’re turning; they’re clearing out,” he said in the lowest possible W instantly. He got both hands against a great lump of rock which he had ready beside him and launched it over the It f with a deep crunching soundl in 0 the shale below, and the sound of its fall was followed by a noise resembling that of shingle being dragged down a breach by a retreating wave. (To be Continued.)