In the Carquinez Woods

“There,” he continued, after a pause, “that’s right, now steady. Listen. A week ago that girl went down just like this to Indian Spring. It was given out, like this, that she went to the Burnhams’. I don’t mind saying, Dunn, that I went down myself, all on the square, thinking I might get a show to talk to her, just as YOU might have done, you know, if you had my chance. I didn’t come across her anywhere. But two men that I met thought they recognized her in a disguise going into the woods. Not suspecting anything, I went after her; saw her at a distance in the middle of the woods in another dress that I can swear to, and was just coming up to her when she vanished—went like a squirrel up a tree, or down like a gopher in the ground, but vanished.”

“Is that all?” said Dunn’s voice. “And just because you were a d—d fool, or had taken a little too much whisky, you thought—”

“Steady. That’s just what I said to myself,” interrupted Brace coolly, “particularly when I saw her that same afternoon in another dress, saying ‘Good-by’ to the Burnhams, as fresh as a rose and as cold as those snow-peaks. Only one thing—she had a ring on her finger she never wore before, and didn’t expect me to see.”

“What if she did? She might have bought it. I reckon she hasn’t to consult you,” broke in Dunn’s voice sternly.

“She didn’t buy it,” continued Brace quietly. “Low gave that Jew trader a bearskin in exchange for it, and presented it to her. I found that out two days afterwards. I found out that out of the whole afternoon she spent less than an hour with the Burnhams. I found out that she bought a duster like the disguise the two men saw her in. I found the yellow dress she wore that day hanging up in Low’s cabin—the place where I saw her go—THE RENDEZVOUS WHERE SHE MEETS HIM. Oh, you’re listenin’, are you? Stop! SIT DOWN!

“I discovered it by accident,” continued the voice of Brace when all was again quiet; “it was hidden as only a squirrel or an Injin can hide when they improve upon nature. When I was satisfied that the girl had been in the woods, I was determined to find out where she vanished, and went there again. Prospecting around, I picked up at the foot of one of the biggest trees this yer old memorandum-book, with grasses and herbs stuck in it. I remembered that I’d heard old Wynn say that Low, like the d—d Digger that he was, collected these herbs; only he pretended it was for science. I reckoned the book was his and that he mightn’t be far away. I lay low and waited. Bimeby I saw a lizard running down the root. When he got sight of me he stopped.”

“D—n the lizard! What’s that got to do with where she is now?”

“Everything. That lizard had a piece of sugar in his mouth. Where did it come from? I made him drop it, and calculated he’d go back for more. He did. He scooted up that tree and slipped in under some hanging strips of bark. I shoved ‘em aside, and found an opening to the hollow where they do their housekeeping.”

“But you didn’t see her there—and how do you know she is there now?”

“I determined to make it sure. When she left to-day, I started an hour ahead of her, and hid myself at the edge of the woods. An hour after the coach arrived at Indian Spring, she came there in a brown duster and was joined by him. I’d have followed them, but the d—d hound has the ears of a squirrel, and though I was five hundred yards from him he was on his guard.”

“Guard be blessed! Wasn’t you armed? Why didn’t you go for him?” said Dunn, furiously.

“I reckoned I’d leave that for you,” said Brace coolly. “If he’d killed me, and if he’d even covered me with his rifle, he’d been sure to let daylight through me at double the distance. I shouldn’t have been any better off, nor you either. If I’d killed HIM, it would have been your duty as sheriff to put me in jail; and I reckon it wouldn’t have broken your heart, Jim Dunn, to have got rid of TWO rivals instead of one. Hullo! Where are you going?”

“Going?” said Dunn hoarsely. “Going to the Carquinez Woods, by God! to kill him before her. I’LL risk it, if you daren’t. Let me succeed, and you can hang ME and take the girl yourself.”

“Sit down, sit down. Don’t be a fool, Jim Dunn! You wouldn’t keep the saddle a hundred yards. Did I say I wouldn’t help you? No. If you’re willing, we’ll run the risk together, but it must be in my way. Hear me. I’ll drive you down there in a buggy before daylight, and we’ll surprise them in the cabin or as they leave the wood. But you must come as if to arrest him for some offense—say, as an escaped Digger from the Reservation, a dangerous tramp, a destroyer of public property in the forests, a suspected road agent, or anything to give you the right to hunt him. The exposure of him and Nellie, don’t you see, must be accidental. If he resists, kill him on the spot, and nobody’ll blame you; if he goes peaceably with you, and you once get him in Excelsior jail, when the story gets out that he’s taken the belle of Excelsior for his squaw, if you’d the angels for your posse you couldn’t keep the boys from hanging him to the first tree. What’s that?”

He walked to the window, and looked out cautiously.

“If it was the old man coming back and listening,” he said, after a pause, “it can’t he helped. He’ll hear it soon enough, if he don’t suspect something already.”

“Look yer, Brace,” broke in Dunn hoarsely. “D—d if I understand you or you me. That dog Low has got to answer to ME, not to the LAW! I’ll take my risk of killing him, on sight and on the square. I don’t reckon to handicap myself with a warrant, and I am not going to draw him out with a lie. You hear me? That’s me all the time!”

“Then you calkilate to go down thar,” said Brace contemptuously, “yell out for him and Nellie, and let him line you on a rest from the first tree as if you were a grizzly.”

There was a pause. “What’s that you were saying just now about a bearskin he sold?” asked Dunn slowly, as if reflecting.

“He exchanged a bearskin,” replied Brace, “with a single hole right over the heart. He’s a dead shot, I tell you.”

“D—n his shooting,” said Dunn. “I’m not thinking of that. How long ago did he bring in that bearskin?”

“About two weeks, I reckon. Why?”

“Nothing! Look yer, Brace, you mean well—thar’s my hand. I’ll go down with you there, but not as the sheriff. I’m going there as Jim Dunn, and you can come along as a white man, to see things fixed on the square. Come!”

Brace hesitated. “You’ll think better of my plan before you get there; but I’ve said I’d stand by you, and I will. Come, then. There’s no time to lose.”

They passed out into the darkness together.

“What are you waiting for?” said Dunn impatiently, as Brace, who was supporting him by the arm, suddenly halted at the corner of the house.

“Some one was listening—did you not see him? Was it the old man?” asked Brace hurriedly.

“Blast the old man! It was only one of them Mexican packers chock-full of whisky, and trying to hold up the house. What are you thinking of? We shall be late.”

In spite of his weakness, the wounded man hurriedly urged Brace forward, until they reached the latter’s lodgings. To his surprise, the horse and buggy were already before the door.

“Then you reckoned to go, any way?” said Dunn, with a searching look at his companion.

“I calkilated SOMEBODY would go,” returned Brace, evasively, patting the impatient Buckskin; “but come in and take a drink before we leave.”

Dunn started out of a momentary abstraction, put his hand on his hip, and mechanically entered the house. They had scarcely raised the glasses to their lips when a sudden rattle of wheels was heard in the street. Brace set down his glass and ran to the window.

“It’s the mare bolted,” he said, with an oath. “We’ve kept her too long standing. Follow me,” and he dashed down the staircase into the street. Dunn followed with difficulty; when he reached the door he was already confronted by his breathless companion. “She’s gone off on a run, and I’ll swear there was a man in the buggy!” He stopped and examined the halter-strap, still fastened to the fence. “Cut! by God!”

Dunn turned pale with passion. “Who’s got another horse and buggy?” he demanded.

“The new blacksmith in Main Street; but we won’t get it by borrowing,” said Brace.

“How then?” asked Dunn savagely.

“Seize it, as the sheriff of Yuba and his deputy, pursuing a confederate of the Injin Low—THE HORSE THIEF!”

CHAPTER VIII

The brief hour of darkness that preceded the dawn was that night intensified by a dense smoke, which, after blotting out horizon and sky, dropped a thick veil on the high road and the silent streets of Indian Spring. As the buggy containing Sheriff Dunn and Brace dashed through the obscurity, Brace suddenly turned to his companion.

“Some one ahead!”

The two men bent forward over the dashboard. Above the steady plunging of their own horse-hoofs they could hear the quicker irregular beat of other hoofs in the darkness before them.

“It’s that horse thief!” said Dunn, in a savage whisper. “Bear to the right, and hand me the whip.”

A dozen cuts of the cruel lash, and their maddened horse, bounding at each stroke, broke into a wild canter. The frail vehicle swayed from side to side at each spring of the elastic shafts. Steadying himself by one hand on the low rail, Dunn drew his revolver with the other. “Sing out to him to pull up, or we’ll fire. My voice is clean gone,” he added, in a husky whisper.

They were so near that they could distinguish the bulk of a vehicle careering from side to side in the blackness ahead. Dunn deliberately raised his weapon. “Sing out!” he repeated impatiently. But Brace, who was still keeping in the shadow, suddenly grasped his companion’s arm.

“Hush! It’s NOT Buckskin,” he whispered hurriedly.

“Are you sure?”

“DON’T YOU SEE WE’RE GAINING ON HIM?” replied the other contemptuously. Dunn grasped his companion’s hand and pressed it silently. Even in that supreme moment this horseman’s tribute to the fugitive Buckskin forestalled all baser considerations of pursuit and capture!

In twenty seconds they were abreast of the stranger, crowding his horse and buggy nearly into the ditch; Brace keenly watchful, Dunn suppressed and pale. In half a minute they were leading him a length; and when their horse again settled down to his steady work, the stranger was already lost in the circling dust that followed them. But the victors seemed disappointed. The obscurity had completely hidden all but the vague outlines of the mysterious driver.

“He’s not our game, anyway,” whispered Dunn. “Drive on.”

“But if it was some friend of his,” suggested Brace uneasily, “what would you do?”