The Forbidden Trail - Honoré Willsie (top 10 books of all time .txt) 📗

The moon appeared at last and suddenly all the desert lay before them like molten silver. They rose, stiffly, and Charley helped Roger to replace the little pack on Peter. Roger led, Peter followed and Charley brought up in the rear. For hours, they toiled slowly up into the range, flashing their "bugs" into the shadows, stopping now and again to go over rock heap or cactus clump carefully, then on again, neither of them speaking, even to Peter, except to call at irregular intervals Felicia's name.

Dawn found them high in the range, in a little canyon, sweet with a tiny spring about which grew mesquite and bear grass. The black ashes of old fires were there, but nothing else. Roger broke the silence of hours:

"We're both going to get a sleep here, then I'm going to take you home. We're way out of the reach of gun sound. They might have found her, you know."

They stood staring about them for a moment and listening. The unutterable silence of the desert was about them. Roger, eyes bloodshot, face unshaven, lips cracked, turned to Charley whose great eyes were sunk in her head, her lip colorless and drawn.

"Come," he said. "I'll cook the bacon and you unpack the rest of the grub. We simply haven't strength to get home without rest and food."

Charley had the remainder of the food ready for Roger when the bacon was cooked. They ate in silence, then Charley lay down on the pack blanket while Roger stretched out in a drift of sand beyond the spring. In utter weariness they both slept, unmindful of danger from snakes or vermin.

It was mid-morning when Roger woke. He sat up with a start and a sudden clear picture in his eyes of a spot in the desert where he had not searched. About a mile from the ranch and perhaps an eighth of a mile west of the trail at the base of the range was a little stone monument. Roger had observed it but it was too small to shelter even Felicia's small frame in its shadows, so he had not troubled to make a close observation of the flat desert round about it. The picture which had awakened him was an extraordinarily vivid one of this monument. He resolved to examine it thoroughly on his way home.

Roger rose stiffly. Charley was lying on her face, her head pillowed on her arm. He moved over and touched her on the shoulder.

"Sorry, Charley," he said, "but we'd better start back."

The girl sat up, slowly. "I wasn't asleep," she said. "I've just been napping off and on. I can't sleep until I know."

"Perhaps we'll find her safe at home," Roger even managed a smile with his broken lips.

"Let's not stop to eat again!" exclaimed Charley.

Roger nodded. They reloaded Peter who was well gorged on spring water and the uncertain looking herbage that grew about its brim.

The trail back was nearly all downward and they had covered it by noon. Roger told Charley of his strange awakening dream of which he made light, but when they sighted the little monument in the distance, they both hurried toward it.

It was there that they found Felicia. On the west side of the monument the prospector had begun a hole and left it. It was not over a foot in depth nor over three feet square. Too small to show in the vast levels of the desert until one was upon it and protected from view from the mountain because of the monument, tiny as it was, it was not too small to hold her little body, huddled face downward, arms and legs cramped.

Roger lifted her out and Charley, without a word, fainted. Roger groaned and covered his eyes for a moment, then he took the pack blanket and rolled the little body in it and left it while he turned to Charley. A part of the canteen of water poured gently over her face revived her. As soon as Roger saw that she was looking at him intelligently he said, sternly:

"Charley, you've got to brace up until we can get home. You must help me get you and her back by keeping as much of a grip on yourself as you can. Remember this is desert noon and we can't temporize. You mount Peter. We'll leave the pack here. I'll carry Felicia."

He took the shot gun from the pack and fired three shots into the air, followed by two more; the code that Ernest had suggested after the first night's hunt had led them to fear the worst. Then he lifted the little blanketed form across his breast and slowly led the way back to the ranch. He could not weep. He could not curse. He could only hope, blindly, that the volcano within him would not burst forth until his work was done.

Ernest met him a short distance from the ranch house, and took the little body from his arms, without a word. Roger turned back to Charley.

"I'm not coming up to the house just now," he said gruffly. "I'm afraid to see Dick."

Elsa, hurrying up to help her friend, tears streaming down her tired, pretty face, heard this:

"Don't try to see him, Rog, but you're not fit to go down to the camp yet. Lie down on the cot on the porch for a little while first."

Roger who was dizzy and staggering caught Gustav's arm. The good fellow had come panting up, uncertain what to say or do to show his sympathy and pain.

"Just for a few minutes then," panted Roger; "I don't want to see Dick for I'd kill him."

"No—don't vorry. I von't let you," said Gustav. "Come, lieber freund, take the steps mit slowness."

Roger dropped on the couch and Elsa and Charley went into the living room. Suddenly Dick shouted:

"Snake bite! On the ankle there! O God Almighty!"

Roger jumped to his feet and ran to the living-room door. Dick on an improvised crutch was staring down at the little form on the cot. Roger lunged for him with an oath, but Gustav caught Roger round the waist, and Charley, who had been sitting weakly in one of the camp chairs, her face bowed on the table, sprang forward, her eyes blazing.

"Don't you dare bring your hellish temper into this room of death, Roger Moore!" she said. "Supposing Felicia had seen you in one of your temper frenzies, mightn't she have run away from you just as she did from Dick?"

Roger stood as if paralyzed. Charley turned to Dick. "Fratricide!" she sobbed. "Murderer!" Then her voice rose hysterically. "Oh, why did I risk that little child to your weakness? Why? I killed her by it! I killed her!"

Elsa ran to put her arm about Charley. "Come, dear, come into the bedroom and let me talk to you."

Roger stood motionless for a moment, staring at the bedroom door which was closed in his face. Dick dropped into a chair with eyes closed, sweat pouring down his forehead and chin. Gustav gave Roger a tug and Roger allowed himself to be led back to the cot.

Here he lay for a few moments glaring up at Gustav who perched himself watchfully on the cot edge. Then he said hoarsely: "Is that true, Gustav, what Charley said about me?"

Gustav's honest face worked and his lips trembled. "Vell, you haf a bad temper, and she was a frightened little thing like a rabbit at a cross word."

Roger groaned and