to the last man-第49部分

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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　Jean　on。　　They　had
arranged　a　cunning　trick　and　ambush；　which　had　all　but　snuffed　out
the　last　of　the　Isbels。　　Colter　probably　had　been　at　the　bottom　of　
this　crafty　plan。　　Since　the　fight　at　the　Isbel　ranch；　now　seemingly
far　back　in　the　past；　this　man　Colter　had　loomed　up　more　and　more　as
a　stronger　and　more　dangerous　antagonist　then　either　Jorth　or　Daggs。
Before　that　he　had　been　little　known　to　any　of　the　Isbel　faction。
And　it　was　Colter　now　who　controlled　the　remnant　of　the　gang　and　who
had　Ellen　Jorth　in　his　possession。

The　canyon　wall　above　Jean；　on　the　right；　grew　more　rugged　and　loftier；
and　the　one　on　the　left　began　to　show　wooded　slopes　and　brakes；　and　at
last　a　wide　expanse　with　a　winding；　willow　border　on　the　west　and　a　long；
low；　pine…dotted　bench　on　the　east。　　It　took　several　moments　of　study
for　Jean　to　recognize　the　rugged　bluff　above　this　bench。　　On　up　that
canyon　several　miles　was　the　site　where　Queen　had　surprised　Jean　and
his　comrades　at　their　campfire。　　Somewhere　in　this　vicinity　was　the
hiding　place　of　the　rustlers。

Thereupon　Jean　proceeded　with　the　utmost　stealth；　absolutely　certain
that　he　would　miss　no　sound；　movement；　sign；　or　anything　unnatural　to
the　wild　peace　of　the　canyon。　　And　his　first　sense　to　register　something
was　his　keen　smell。　　Sheep！　　He　was　amazed　to　smell　sheep。　　There　must
be　a　flock　not　far　away。　　Then　from　where　he　glided　along　under　the
trees　he　saw　down　to　open　places　in　the　willow　brake　and　noticed　sheep
tracks　in　the　dark；　muddy　bank　of　the　brook。　　Next　he　heard　faint　tinkle
of　bells；　and　at　length；　when　he　could　see　farther　into　the　open
enlargement　of　the　canyon；　his　surprised　gaze　fell　upon　an　immense　gray；
woolly　patch　that　blotted　out　acres　and　acres　of　grass。　　Thousands　of
sheep　were　grazing　there。　　Jean　knew　there　were　several　flocks　of
Jorth's　sheep　on　the　mountain　in　the　care　of　herders；　but　he　had
never　thought　of　them　being　so　far　west；　more　than　twenty　miles　from
Chevelon　Canyon。　　His　roving　eyes　could　not　descry　any　herders　or　dogs。
But　he　knew　there　must　be　dogs　close　to　that　immense　flock。　　And；
whatever　his　cunning；　he　could　not　hope　to　elude　the　scent　and　sight
of　shepherd　dogs。　　It　would　be　best　to　go　back　the　way　he　bad　come；
wait　for　darkness；　then　cross　the　canyon　and　climb　out；　and　work　around
to　his　objective　point。　　Turning　at　once；　he　started　to　glide　back。
But　almost　immediately　he　was　brought　stock…still　and　thrilling　by
the　sound　of　hoofs。

Horses　were　coming　in　the　direction　he　wished　to　take。　　They　were　close。
His　swift　conclusion　was　that　the　men　who　had　pursued　him　up　on　the　Rim
had　worked　down　into　the　canyon。　　One　circling　glance　showed　him　that
he　had　no　sure　covert　near　at　hand。　　It　would　not　do　to　risk　their
passing　him　there。　　The　border　of　woodland　was　narrow　and　not　dense
enough　for　close　inspection。　　He　was　forced　to　turn　back　up　the　canyon；
in　the　hope　of　soon　finding　a　hiding　place　or　a　break　in　the　wall　where
be　could　climb　up。

Hugging　the　base　of　the　wall；　he　slipped　on；　passing　the　point　where
he　had　espied　the　sheep；　and　gliding　on　until　he　was　stopped　by　a　bend
in　the　dense　line　of　willows。　　It　sheered　to　the　west　there　and　ran
close　to　the　high　wall。　　Jean　kept　on　until　he　was　stooping　under　a　
curling　border　of　willow　thicket；　with　branches　slim　and　yellow　and
masses　of　green　foliage　that　brushed　against　the　wall。　　Suddenly　he
encountered　an　abrupt　corner　of　rock。　　He　rounded　it；　to　discover　that
it　ran　at　right　angles　with　the　one　he　had　just　passed。　　Peering　up
through　the　willows；　he　ascertained　that　there　was　a　narrow　crack　in
the　main　wall　of　the　canyon。　　It　had　been　concealed　by　willows　low　down
and　leaning　spruces　above。　　A　wild；　hidden　retreat！　　Along　the　base　of
the　wall　there　were　tracks　of　small　animals。　　The　place　was　odorous；
like　all　dense　thickets；　but　it　was　not　dry。　　Water　ran　through　there
somewhere。　　Jean　drew　easier　breath。　　All　sounds　except　the　rustling　of
birds　or　mice　in　the　willows　had　ceased。　　The　brake　was　pervaded　by　a
dreamy　emptiness。　　Jean　decided　to　steal　on　a　little　farther；　then　wait
till　he　felt　he　might　safely　dare　go　back。

The　golden…green　gloom　suddenly　brightened。　　Light　showed　ahead；　and
parting　the　willows；　he　looked　out　into　a　narrow；　winding　canyon；
with　an　open；　grassy；　willow…streaked　lane　in　the　center　and　on
each　side　a　thin　strip　of　woodland。

His　surprise　was　short　lived。　　A　crashing　of　horses　back　of　him　in　the
willows　gave　him　a　shock。　　He　ran　out　along　the　base　of　the　wall；　back
of　the　trees。　　Like　the　strip　of　woodland　in　the　main　canyon；　this　one
was　scant　and　had　but　little　underbrush。　　There　were　young　spruces
growing　with　thick　branches　clear　to　the　grass；　and　under　these　he
could　have　concealed　himself。　　But；　with　a　certainty　of　sheep　dogs
in　the　vicinity；　he　would　not　think　of　hiding　except　as　a　last　resource。
These　horsemen；　whoever　they　were；　were　as　likely　to　be　sheep　herders
as　not。　　Jean　slackened　his　pace　to　look　back。　　He　could　not　see　any
moving　objects；　but　he　still　heard　horses；　though　not　so　close　now。
Ahead　of　him　this　narrow　gorge　opened　out　like　the　neck　of　a　bottle。
He　would　run　on　to　the　head　of　it　and　find　a　place　to　climb　to　the　top。

Hurried　and　anxious　as　Jean　was；　he　yet　received　an　impression　of
singular；　wild　nature　of　this　side　gorge。　　It　was　a　hidden；　pine…fringed
crack　in　the　rock…ribbed　and　canyon…cut　tableland。　　Above　him　the　sky
seemed　a　winding　stream　of　blue。　　The　walls　were　red　and　bulged　out　in
spruce…greened　shelves。　　From　wall　to　wall　was　scarcely　a　distance　of　a
hundred　feet。　　Jumbles　of　rock　obstructed　his　close　holding　to　the　wall。
He　had　to　walk　at　the　edge　of　the　timber。　　As　he　progressed；　the　gorge
widened　into　wilder；　ruggeder　aspect。　　Through　the　trees　ahead　he　saw
where　the　wall　circled　to　meet　the　cliff　on　the　left；　forming　an　oval　
depression；　the　nature　of　which　he　could　not　ascertain。　　But　it　appeared
to　be　a　small　opening　surrounded　by　dense　thickets　and　the　overhanging
walls。　　Anxiety　augmented　to