The Story of the Foss River Ranch by Ridgwell Cullum

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The obvious conclusion was that the others were already here at the time
of the arrival of the buckboard, doubtless with the purpose of carrying
out Retief's plans.

The Breeds moved off in various directions, and their chief and the
money-lender were left alone. As soon as the others were out of earshot
the raider approached his captive. His face seemed to have undergone
some subtle change. The lofty air of command had been replaced by a look
of bitter hatred and terrible cruelty.

"Now, Lablache," he said coldly, "I guess you're goin' to see some fun.
I ain't mostly hard on people. I like to do the thing han'some. Say
I'll jest roll this bar'l 'long so as you ken set. An' see hyar, ef
you're mighty quiet I'll loose them hands o' yours."

Lablache deigned no reply, but the other was as good as his word.

"Sulky, some, I guess," the half-breed went on. "Wal, I'm not goin' back
on my word," he added as he rolled the barrel up to his prisoner and
scotched it securely. "Thar, set."

The money-lender didn't move.

"Set!" This time the word conveyed a command and the other sat down on
the barrel.

"Guess I can't stand cantankerous cusses. Now, let's have a look at yer
bracelets."

He sat beside his captive and proceeded to loosen the rope which bound
his wrists. Then he quietly drew his pistol and rested it on his knee.
Lablache enjoyed his freedom, but wondered what was coming next.

There was a moment of silence while the two men gazed at the corrals and
buildings set out before them. Away to the right, on a rising ground,
stood a magnificent house built of red pine lumber. Lablache had built
this as a dwelling for himself. For the prairie it was palatial, and
there was nothing in the country to equal it. This building alone had
cost sixty thousand dollars. On a lower level there were the great
barns. Four or five of these stood linked up by smaller buildings and
quarters for the ranch hands. Then there was a stretch of low buildings
which were the boxes built for the great man's thoroughbred stud horses.
He was possessed of six such animals, and their aggregate cost ran into
thousands of pounds, each one having been imported from England.

Then there were the corrals with their great ten-foot walls, all built
of the finest pine logs cut from the mountain forests. These corrals
covered acres of ground and were capable of sheltering five thousand
head of cattle without their capacity being taxed. It was an ideal place
and represented a considerable fortune. Lablache noticed that the
corrals were entirely empty. He longed to ask his captor for
explanation, but would not give that swarthy individual the satisfaction
of imparting unpleasant information.

However, Retief did not intend to let the money-lender off lightly. The
cruel expression of his face deepened as he followed the direction of
Lablache's gaze.

"Fine place, this," he said, with a comprehensive nod. "Cost a pile o'
dollars, I take it."

No answer.

"You ain't got much stock. Guess the boys 'ave helped themselves
liberal."

Lablache turned his face towards his companion. He was fast being drawn.

"Heard 'em gassin' about twenty thousand head some days back. Guess
they've borrowed 'em," he went on indifferently.

"You villain!" the exasperated prisoner hissed at last.

If ever a look conveyed a lust for murder Lablache's lashless eyes
expressed it.

"Eh? What? Guess you ain't well." The icy tones mocked at the distraught
captive.

The money-lender checked his wrath and struggled to keep cool.

"My cattle are on the range. You could never have driven off twenty
thousand head. It would have been impossible without my hearing of it.
It is more than one night's work."

"That's so," replied the half-breed, smiling sardonically. "Say, your
hands and foreman are shut up in their shack. They've bin taking things
easy fur a day or two. Jest to give my boys a free hand. Guess we've
been at work here these three days."

The money-lender groaned inwardly. He understood the Breed's meaning
only too well. At last his bottled-up rage broke out again.

"Are you man or devil that you spirit away great herds like this.
Across the keg, I know, but how--how? Twenty thousand! My God, you'll
swing for this night's work," he went on impotently. "The whole
countryside will be after you. I am not the man to sit down quietly
under such handling. If I spend every cent I'm possessed of, you shall
be hounded down until you dare not show your face on this side of the
border."

"Easy, boss," the Breed retorted imperturbably. "Ef you want to see that
precious store o' yours again a civil tongue 'll help you best. I'm
mostly a patient man--easy goin'-like. Now jest keep calm an' I'll let
you see the fun. Now that's a neat shack o' yours," he went on, pointing
to the money-lender's mansion. "Wonder ef I could put a dose o' lead
into one o' the windows from here."

Lablache began to think he was dealing with a madman. He remained
silent, and the Breed leveled his pistol in the direction of the house
and fired. A moment's silence followed the sharp report. Then Retief
turned to his captive.

"Guess I didn't hear any glass smash. Likely I missed it," and he
chuckled fiendishly. Lablache sat gazing moodily at the building. Then
the half-breed's voice roused him. "Hello, wot's that?" He was pointing
at the house. "Why, some galoot's lightin' a bonfire! Say, that's
dangerous Lablache. They might fire your place."

But the other did not answer. His eyes were staring wide with horror. As
if in answer to the pistol-shot a fire had been lit against the side of
the house. It was no ordinary fire, either, but a great pile of hay. The
flames shot up with terrible swiftness, licking up the side of the red
pine house with lightning rapidity. Lablache understood. The house was
to be demolished, and Retief had given the signal. He leapt up from his
seat, forgetful of his bound feet, and made as though to seize the Breed
by the throat. He got no further, however, for Retief gripped him by the
shoulder, and, notwithstanding his great bulk, hurled him back on to the
barrel, at the same time pressing the muzzle of his pistol into his
face.

"Set down, you scum," he thundered. "Another move like that an' I'll
let the atmosphere into yer." Then with a Sudden return to his grim
pastime, as the other remained quiet, "Say, red pine makes powerful fine
kindlin'. I reckon they'll see that light at the settlement. You don't
seem pleased, man. Ain't it a beaut. Look, they've started it the other
side. Now the smoke stack's caught. Burn, burn, you beauty. Look,
Lablache, a sixty thousand dollar fire, an' all yours. Ain't you proud
to think that it's all yours?"

Lablache was speechless with horror. Words failed to express his
feelings. The Breed watched him as a tiger might contemplate its
helpless prey. He understood something of the agony the great man was
suffering. He wanted him to suffer--he meant him to suffer. But he had
only just begun the torture he had so carefully prepared for his victim.

Presently the roof of the building crashed in, and, for the moment, the
blaze leapt high. Then, soon, it began to die down. Retief seemed to
tire of watching the dying blaze. He turned again to his prisoner.

"Not 'nough, eh? Not 'nough. We can't stop here all night. Let's have
the rest. The sight'll warm your heart." And he laughed at his own grim
pleasantry. "The boys have cleared out your stud 'plugs.' And, I guess,
yer barns are chocked full of yer wheel gearing and implements. Say, I
guess we'll have 'em next."

He turned from his silent captive without waiting for reply, and rapidly
discharged the remaining five barrels of his pistol. For answer another
five bonfires were lighted round the barns and corals. Almost instantly
the whole place became a gorgeous blaze of light. The entire ranch, with
the exception of one little shack was now burning as only pine wood can
burn. It was a terrible, never-to-be-forgotten sight, and Lablache
groaned audibly as he saw the pride of his wealth rapidly gutted. If
ever a man suffered the money-lender suffered that night Retief showed
a great understanding of his prisoner--far too great an understanding
for a man who was supposed to be a stranger to Lablache--in the way he
set about to torture his victim. No bodily pain could have equaled the
mental agony to which the usurer was submitted. The sight of the
demolishing of his beautiful ranch--probably the most beautiful in the
country--was a cruelly exquisite torture to the money-loving man. That
dread conflagration represented the loss to him of a fortune, for, with
grasping pusillanimity, Lablache had refused to insure his property. Had
Retief known this he could not have served his own purpose better.
Possibly he did know, and possibly that was the inducement which
prompted his action. Truly was the money-lender paying dearly for past
misdeeds. With the theft of his cattle and the burning of his ranch his
loss was terrible, and, in his moment of anguish, he dared not attempt
to calculate the extent of the catastrophe.

When the fire was at its height Retief again addressed his taunting
language to the man beside him, and Lablache writhed under the lash of
that scathing tongue.

"I've heerd tell you wer' mighty proud of this place of yours. Spent
piles o' bills on it. Nothin' like circulatin' cash, I guess. Say now,
how long did it take you to fix them shacks up?"

No answer. Lablache was beyond mere words.

"A sight longer than it takes a bit of kindlin' to fetch 'em down, I
take it," he went on placidly. "When d'ye think you'll start
re-building? I wonder," thoughtfully, "why they don't fire that shed
yonder," pointing to the only building left untouched. "Ah, I was
forgettin', that's whar your hands are enjoyin' themselves. It's
thoughtful o' the boys. I guess they're good lads. They don't cotton to
killin' prairie hands. But they ain't so particular over useless lumps
o' flesh, I guess," with a glance at the stricken man beside him.

Lablache was gasping heavily. The mental strain was almost more than he
could bear, and his crushed and hopeless attitude brought a satanic
smile on the cruel face beside him.

"You don't seem to fancy things much," Retief went on. "Guess you ain't
enjoyin' yerself. Brace up, pard; you won't git another sight like this
fur some time. Why, wot's ailing yer?" as the barrel on which they were
seated moved and Lablache nearly rolled over backwards. "I hadn't a
notion yer wouldn't enjoy yerself. Say, jest look right thar. Them
barns," he added, pointing, towards the fire, "was built mighty solid.
They're on'y jest cavin'."

Lablache remained silent. Words, he felt, would be useless. In fact it
is doubtful if he would have been equal to expression. His spirit was
crushed and he feared the man beside him as he had never feared any
human being before. Such was the nervous strain put upon him that the
sense of his loss was rapidly absorbed in a dread for his own personal
safety. The conflagration had lost its fascination for him, and at every
move--every word--of his captor he dreaded the coming of his own end. It
was a physical and mental collapse, and bordered closely on frenzied
terror. It was no mental effort of his own that kept him from hurling
himself upon the other and biting and tearing in a vain effort to rend
the life out of him. The thought--the fever, desire, craving--was there,
but the will, the personality, of the Breed held him spellbound, an
inert mass of flesh incapable of physical effort--incapable almost of
thought, but a prey to an overwhelming terror.

The watching half-breed at length rose from his seat and shrugged his
thin, stooping shoulders. He had had enough of his pastime, and time was
getting on. He had other work to do before daylight. He put his hand to
his mouth and imitated the cry of the coyote. An instant later answering
cries came from various directions, and presently the Breeds gathered
round their chief.

"Say, bring up the 'plugs,' lads. The old boy's had his bellyfull. I
guess we'll git on." Then he turned upon the broken money-lender and
spoke while he re-charged the chambers of his pistol.

"See hyar, Lablache, this night's work is on'y a beginning. So long as
you live in Foss River Settlement so long will I hunt you out an' hustle
yer stock. You talked of houndin' me, but I guess the shoe's on the
other foot. I ain't finished by a sight, an' you'll hear from me agin'.
I don't fancy yer life," he went on with a grin. "Et's too easy, I
guess. Et's yer bills I'm after. Ye've got plenty an' to spare. But
bills is all-fired awk'ud to handle when they pass thro' your dirty
hands. So I'll wait till you've turned 'em into stock. Savee? I'm jest
goin' right on now. Thar's a bunch o' yer steers waitin' to be taken
off. Happen I'm goin' to see to 'em right away. One o' these lads'll
jest set some bracelets on yer hands, and leave yer tucked up and
comfortable so you can't do any harm, and you can set right thar an'
wait till some 'un comes along an' looses yer. So long, pard, an'
remember, Foss River's the hottest place outside o' hell fur you, jest
now."

Some of the half-breeds had brought up the horses whilst Retief was
talking, and, as he finished speaking, the hustler vaulted on to the
back of the great chestnut, Golden Eagle, and prepared to ride away.
Whilst the others were getting into their saddles he took one look at
the wretched captive whose hands had been again secured. There was a
swift exchange of glances--malevolent and murderous on the part of the
money-lender, and derisive on the part of the half-breed--then Retief
swung his charger round, and, at the head of his men, galloped away out
into the starry night.

CHAPTER XXI

HORROCKS LEARNS THE SECRET OF THE MUSKEG

The rope which brought Horrocks to the ground came near to strangling
him. He struggled wildly as he fell, and, as he struggled, the grip of
the rope tightened. He felt that the blood was ready to burst from his
temples and eyes. Then everything seemed to swim about him and he
believed consciousness was leaving him. Everything was done in a moment
and yet he seemed to be passing through an eternity of time.

The lariat is a handy weapon, but to truly appreciate its merits one
must be a prairie man. The Breeds are prairie men. They understand fully
the uses to which a "rope" may be put. For criminal purposes they
appreciate its silent merits, and the dexterity with which they can use
it makes its value equal to, and even surpass, the noisier and more
tell-tale pistol.

The next thing that the policeman knew was that he was stretched on his
back upon the ground, disarmed, and with a great bandanna secured about
his eyes and mouth, and his hands tied behind his back. Then a gruff
voice bade him rise, and, as he silently obeyed, he was glad to feel
that the gripping lariat was removed from his throat. Truly had the
officer's pride gone before a fall. And his feelings were now of the
deepest chagrin. He stood turning his head from side to side, blindly
seeking to penetrate the bandage about his eyes. He knew where he was,
of course, but he would have given half his year's salary for a sight of
his assailants.

He was not given long for his futile efforts. The same rough voice
which had bade him rise now ordered him to walk, and he found himself
forced forward by the aid of a heavy hand which gripped one of his arms.
The feeling of a blindfold walk is not a happy one, and the officer
experienced a strange sensation of falling as he was urged he knew not
whither. After a few steps he was again halted, and then he felt himself
seized from behind and lifted bodily into a conveyance.

He quickly realized that he was in a buckboard. The slats which formed
the body of it, as his feet lit upon them, told him this. Then two men
jumped in after him and he found himself seated between them. And so he
was driven off.

In justice to Horrocks it must be said that he experienced no fear.
True, his chagrin was very great. He saw only too plainly what want of
discretion he had displayed in trusting to the Breed's story, but he
felt that his previous association with the rascal warranted his
credulity, and the outcome must be regarded as the fortune of war. He
only wondered what strange experience this blindfold journey was to
forerun. There was not the least doubt in his mind as to whose was the
devising of this well-laid and well-carried-out plot. Retief, he knew,
must be answerable for the plan, and the method displayed in its
execution plainly showed him that every detail had been carefully
thought out, and administered by only too willing hands. That there was
more than ordinary purpose in this blindfold journey he felt assured,
and he racked his brains to discover the desperado's object. He even
found time to speculate as to how it had fared with his men, only here
he was even more at a loss than in the case of his own ultimate fate.

In less than half an hour from the time of his capture the buckboard
drew up beside some bush. Horrocks knew it was a bluff. He could hear
the rustle of the leaves as they fluttered in the gentle night air. Then
he was unceremoniously hustled to the ground, and, equally
unceremoniously, urged forward until his feet trod upon the stubbly,
breaking undergrowth. Next he was brought to a stand and swung round,
face about, his bonds were removed, and four powerful hands gripped his
arms. By these he was drawn backwards until he bumped against a
tree-trunk. His hands were then again made fast, but this time his arms
embraced the tree behind him. In this manner he was securely trussed.

Now from behind--his captors were well behind him--a hand reached over,
and, by a swift movement, removed the bandage from before his eyes.
Then, before he had time to turn his head, he heard a scrambling through
the bush, and, a moment later, the sound of the creaking buckboard
rapidly receding. He was left alone; and, after one swift, comprehensive
survey, to his surprise, he found himself facing the wire-spreading
muskeg, at the very spot where he had given up further pursuit of the
cattle whose "spur" he had traced down to the brink of the viscid mire.

His astonishment rendered him oblivious to all else. He merely gazed out
across that deceptive flat and wondered. Why--why had this thing been
done, and what strange freak had induced the "hustler" to conceive such
a form of imprisonment for his captive? Horrocks struggled with his
confusion, but he failed to fathom the mystery, and never was a man's
confusion worse confounded than was his.

Presently he bethought him of his bonds, and he cautiously tried them.
They were quite unyielding, and, at each turn of his arms, they caused
him considerable pain. The Breeds had done their work well, and he
realized that he must wait the raider's pleasure. He was certain of one
thing, however, which brought him a slight amount of comfort. He had
been brought here for a definite purpose. Moreover, he did not believe
that he was to be left here alone for long. So, with resignation induced
by necessity, he possessed himself of what patience he best could
summon.

How long that solitary vigil lasted Horrocks had no idea. Time, in that
predicament, was to him of little account. He merely wondered and
waited. He considered himself more than fortunate that his captors had
seen fit to remove the bandage from his eyes. In spite of his painful
captivity he felt less helpless from the fact that he could see what
might be about him.

From a general survey his attention soon became riveted upon the muskeg
spread out before him, and, before long, his thoughts turned to the
secret path which he knew, at some point near by, bridged the silent
horror. All about him was lit by the starry splendor of the sky. The
scent of the redolent grass of the great keg hung heavily upon the air
and smelt sweet in his nostrils. He could see the ghostly outline of the
distant peaks of the mountains, he could hear the haunting cries of
nightfowl and coyote; but these things failed to interest him.
Familiarity with the prairie made them, to him, commonplace. The
path--the secret of the great keg. That was the absorbing thought which
occupied his waiting moments. He felt that its discovery would more than
compensate for any blunders he had made. He strained his keen eyes as he
gazed at the tall waving grass of the mire, as though to tear from the
bosom of the awful swamp the secret it so jealously guarded. He slowly
surveyed its dark surface, almost inch by inch, in the hopes of
discovering the smallest indication or difference which might lead to
the desired end.

There was nothing in what he saw to guide him, nothing which offered the
least suggestion of a path. In the darkness the tall waving grass took a
nondescript hue which reached unbroken for miles around. Occasionally
the greensward seemed to ripple in the breeze, like water swayed by a
soft summer zephyr, but beyond this the outlook was uniform--darkly
mysterious--inscrutable.

His arms cramped under the pressure of the restraining bonds and he
moved uneasily. Now and again the rustling of the leaves overhead caused
him to listen keenly. Gradually his fancy became slightly distorted,
and, as time passed, the sounds which had struck so familiarly upon his
ears, and which had hitherto passed unheeded, began to get upon his
nerves.

By-and-by he found himself listening eagerly for the monotonous
repetition of the prairie scavenger's dismal howl, and as the cries
recurred they seemed to grow in power and become more plaintively
horrible. Now, too, the sighing of the breeze drew more keen attention
from the imprisoned man, and fancy magnified it into the sound of many
approaching feet. These matters were the effect of solitude. At such
times nerves play curious pranks.

In spite of his position, in spite of his anxiety of mind, the
police-officer began to grow drowsy. The long night's vigil was telling,
and nature rebelled, as she always will rebel when sleep is refused and
bodily rest is unobtainable. A man may pace his bedroom for hours with
the unmitigated pain of toothache. Even while the pain is almost
unendurable his eyes will close and he will continue his peregrinations
with tottering gait, awake, but with most of his faculties drowsily
faltering. Horrocks found his head drooping forward, and, even against
his will, his eyes would close. Time and again he pulled himself
together, only the next instant to catch himself dozing off again.

Suddenly, however, he was electrified into life. He was awake now, and
all drowsiness had vanished. A sound--distant, rumbling, but
distinct--had fallen upon his, for the moment, dulled ears. For awhile
it likened to the far-off growl of thunder, blending with a steady rush
of wind. But it was not passing. The sound remained and grew steadily
louder. A minute passed--then another and then another. Horrocks stared
in the direction, listening with almost painful intensity. As the
rumbling grew, and the sound became more distinct, a light of
intelligence crept into the prisoner's face. He heard and recognized.

"Cattle!" he muttered, and in that pronouncement was an inflection of
joy. "Cattle--and moving at a great pace."

He was alert now, as alert as he had ever been in his life. Was he at
last going to discover the coveted secret? Cattle traveling fast at this
time of night, and in the vicinity of the great keg. What could it mean?
To his mind there could only be one construction which he could
reasonably put upon the circumstance. The cattle were being "hustled,"
and the hustler must be the half-breed Retief.

Then, like a douche of cold water, followed the thought that he had been
purposely made a prisoner at the edge of the muskeg. Surely he was not
to be allowed to see the cattle pass over the mire and then be permitted
to go free. Even Retief in his wildest moments of bravado could not
meditate so reckless a proceeding. No, there was some subtle purpose
underlying this new development--possibly the outcome was to be far more
grim than he had supposed. He waited horrified, at his own thoughts, but
fascinated in spite of himself.

The sound grew rapidly and Horrocks's face remained turned in the
direction from which it proceeded. He fancied, even in the uncertain
light, that he could see the distant crowd of beasts silhouetted against
the sky-line. His post of imprisonment was upon the outskirts of the
bush, and he had a perfect and uninterrupted view of the prairie along
the brink of the keg, both to the north and south.

It was his fancy, however, which designed the silhouette, and he soon
became aware that the herd was nearer than he had supposed. The noise
had become a continuous roar as the driven beasts came on, and he saw
them loom towards him a black patch on the dark background of the
dimly-lit prairie. The bunch was large, but his straining eyes as yet
could make no estimate of its numbers. He could see several herders, but
these, too, were as yet beyond recognition.

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