riders of the purple sage-第41部分

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　flame　into　life。　If　those　riders　were　not　rustlers　he　had　forgotten　how　rustlers　looked　and　rode。　On　they　came；　a　small　group；　so　compact　and　dark　that　he　could　not　tell　their　number。　How　unusual　that　their　horses　did　not　see　Wrangle！　But　such　failure；　Venters　decided；　was　owing　to　the　speed　with　which　they　were　traveling。　They　moved　at　a　swift　canter　affected　more　by　rustlers　than　by　riders。　Venters　grew　concerned　over　the　possibility　that　these　horsemen　would　actually　ride　down　on　him　before　he　had　a　chance　to　tell　what　to　expect。　When　they　were　within　three　hundred　yards　he　deliberately　led　Wrangle　out　into　the　trail。

Then　he　heard　shouts；　and　the　hard　scrape　of　sliding　hoofs；　and　saw　horses　rear　and　plunge　back　with　up…flung　heads　and　flying　manes。　Several　little　white　puffs　of　smoke　appeared　sharply　against　the　black　background　of　riders　and　horses；　and　shots　rang　out。　Bullets　struck　far　in　front　of　Venters；　and　whipped　up　the　dust　and　then　hummed　low　into　the　sage。　The　range　was　great　for　revolvers；　but　whether　the　shots　were　meant　to　kill　or　merely　to　check　advance；　they　were　enough　to　fire　that　waiting　ferocity　in　Venters。　Slipping　his　arm　through　the　bridle；　so　that　Wrangle　could　not　get　away；　Venters　lifted　his　rifle　and　pulled　the　trigger　twice。

He　saw　the　first　horseman　lean　sideways　and　fall。　He　saw　another　lurch　in　his　saddle　and　heard　a　cry　of　pain。　Then　Wrangle；　plunging　in　fright；　lifted　Venters　and　nearly　threw　him。　He　jerked　the　horse　down　with　a　powerful　hand　and　leaped　into　the　saddle。　Wrangle　plunged　again；　dragging　his　bridle；　that　Venters　had　not　had　time　to　throw　in　place。　Bending　over　with　a　swift　movement；　he　secured　it　and　dropped　the　loop　over　the　pommel。　Then；　with　grinding　teeth；　he　looked　to　see　what　the　issue　would　be。

The　band　had　scattered　so　as　not　to　afford　such　a　broad　mark　for　bullets。　The　riders　faced　Venters；　some　with　red…belching　guns。　He　heard　a　sharper　report；　and　just　as　Wrangle　plunged　again　he　caught　the　whim　of　a　leaden　missile　that　would　have　hit　him　but　for　Wrangle's　sudden　jump。　A　swift；　hot　wave；　turning　cold；　passed　over　Venters。　Deliberately　he　picked　out　the　one　rider　with　a　carbine；　and　killed　him。　Wrangle　snorted　shrilly　and　bolted　into　the　sage。　Venters　let　him　run　a　few　rods；　then　with　iron　arm　checked　him。

Five　riders；　surely　rustlers；　were　left。　One　leaped　out　of　the　saddle　to　secure　his　fallen　comrade's　carbine。　A　shot　from　Venters；　which　missed　the　man　but　sent　the　dust　flying　over　him　made　him　run　back　to　his　horse。　Then　they　separated。　The　crippled　rider　went　one　way；　the　one　frustrated　in　his　attempt　to　get　the　carbine　rode　another；　Venters　thought　he　made　out　a　third　rider；　carrying　a　strange…appearing　bundle　and　disappearing　in　the　sage。　But　in　the　rapidity　of　action　and　vision　he　could　not　discern　what　it　was。　Two　riders　with　three　horses　swung　out　to　the　right。　Afraid　of　the　long　riflea　burdensome　weapon　seldom　carried　by　rustlers　or　ridersthey　had　been　put　to　rout。

Suddenly　Venters　discovered　that　one　of　the　two　men　last　noted　was　riding　Jane　Withersteen's　horse　Bellsthe　beautiful　bay　racer　she　had　given　to　Lassiter。　Venters　uttered　a　savage　outcry。　Then　the　small；　wiry；　frog…like　shape　of　the　second　rider；　and　the　ease　and　grace　of　his　seat　in　the　saddlethings　so　strikingly　incongruousgrew　more　and　more　familiar　in　Venters's　sight。

〃Jerry　Card！〃　cried　Venters。

It　was　indeed　Tull's　right…hand　man。　Such　a　white　hot　wrath　inflamed　Venters　that　he　fought　himself　to　see　with　clearer　gaze。

〃It's　Jerry　Card！〃　he　exclaimed；　instantly。　〃And　he's　riding　Black　Star　and　leading　Night！〃

The　long…kindling；　stormy　fire　in　Venters's　heart　burst　into　flame。　He　spurred　Wrangle；　and　as　the　horse　lengthened　his　stride　Venters　slipped　cartridges　into　the　magazine　of　his　rifle　till　it　was　once　again　full。　Card　and　his　companion　were　now　half　a　mile　or　more　in　advance；　riding　easily　down　the　slope。　Venters　marked　the　smooth　gait；　and　understood　it　when　Wrangle　galloped　out　of　the　sage　into　the　broad　cattle　trail；　down　which　Venters　had　once　tracked　Jane　Withersteen's　red　herd。　This　hard…packed　trail；　from　years　of　use；　was　as　clean　and　smooth　as　a　road。　Venters　saw　Jerry　Card　look　back　over　his　shoulder；　the　other　rider　did　likewise。　Then　the　three　racers　lengthened　their　stride　to　the　point　where　the　swinging　canter　was　ready　to　break　into　a　gallop。

〃Wrangle；　the　race's　on；〃　said　Venters；　grimly。　〃We'll　canter　with　them　and　gallop　with　them　and　run　with　them。　We'll　let　them　set　the　pace。〃

Venters　knew　he　bestrode　the　strongest；　swiftest；　most　tireless　horse　ever　ridden　by　any　rider　across　the　Utah　uplands。　Recalling　Jane　Withersteen's　devoted　assurance　that　Night　could　run　neck　and　neck　with　Wrangle；　and　Black　Star　could　show　his　heels　to　him；　Venters　wished　that　Jane　were　there　to　see　the　race　to　recover　her　blacks　and　in　the　unqualified　superiority　of　the　giant　sorrel。　Then　Venters　found　himself　thankful　that　she　was　absent；　for　he　meant　that　race　to　end　in　Jerry　Card's　death。　The　first　flush；　the　raging　of　Venters's　wrath；　passed；　to　leave　him　in　sullen；　almost　cold　possession　of　his　will。　It　was　a　deadly　mood；　utterly　foreign　to　his　nature；　engendered；　fostered；　and　released　by　the　wild　passions　of　wild　men　in　a　wild　country。　The　strength　in　him　thenthe　thing　rife　in　him　that　was　note　hate；　but　something　as　remorselessmight　have　been　the　fiery　fruition　of　a　whole　lifetime　of　vengeful　quest。　Nothing　could　have　stopped　him。

Venters　thought　out　the　race　shrewdly。　The　rider　on　Bells　would　probably　drop　behind　and　take　to　the　sage。　What　he　did　was　of　little　moment　to　Venters。　To　stop　Jerry　Card；　his　evil　hidden　career　as　well　as　his　present　flight；　and　then　to　catch　the　blacksthat　was　all　that　concerned　Venters。　The　cattle　trail　wound　for　miles　and　miles　down　the　slope。　Venters　saw　with　a　rider's　keen　vision　ten；　fifteen；　twenty　miles　of　clear　purple　sage。　There　were　no　on…coming　riders　or　rustlers　to　aid　Card。　His　only　chance　to　escape　lay　in　abandoning　the　stolen　horses　and　creeping　away　in　the　sage　to　hide。　In　ten　miles　Wrangle　could　run　Black　Star　and　Night　off　their　feet；　and　in　fifteen　he　could　kill　them　outright。　So　Venters　held　the　sorrel　in；　letting　Card　make　the　running。　It　was　a　long　race　that　would　save　the　blacks。

In　a　few　miles　of　that　swinging　canter　Wrangle　had　crept　appreciably　closer　to　the　three　horses。　Jerry　Card　turned　again；　and　when　he　saw　how　the　sorrel　had　gained；　he　put　Black　Star　to　a　gallop。　Night　and　Bells；　on　either　side　of　him；　swept　into　his　stride。

Venters　loosened　the　rein　on　Wrangle　and　let　him　break　into　a　gallop。　The　sorrel　saw　the　horses　ahead　and　wanted　to　run。　But　Venters　restrained　him。　And　in　the　gallop　he　gained　more　than　in　the　canter。　Bells　was　fast　in　that　gait；　but　Black　Star　and　Night　had　been　trained　to　run。　Slowly　Wrangle　closed　the　gap　down　to　a　quarter　of　a　mile；　and　crept　closer　and　closer。

Jerry　Card　wheeled　once　more。　Venters　distinctly　saw　the　red　flash　of　his　red　face。　This　time　he　looked　long。　Venters　laughed。　He　knew　what　passed　in　Card's　mind。　The　rider　was　trying　to　make　out　what　horse　it　happened　to　be　that　thus　gained　on　Jane　Withersteen's　peerless　racers。　Wrangle　had　so　long　been　away　from　the　village　that　not　improbably　Jerry　had　forgotten。　Besides；　whatever　Jerry's　qualifications　for　his　fame　as　the　greatest　rider　of　the　sage；　certain　it　was　that　his　best　point　was　not　far…sightedness。　He　had　not　recognized　Wrangle。　After　what　must　have　been　a　searching　gaze　he　got　his　comrade　to　face　about。　This　action　gave　Venters　amusement。　It　spoke　so　surely　of　the　facts　that　neither　Card　nor　the　rustler　actually　knew　their　danger。　Yet　if　they　kept　to　the　trailand　the　last　thing　such　men　would　do　would　be　to　leave　itthey　were　both　doomed。

This　comrade　of　Card's　whirled　far　around　in　his　saddle；　and　he　even　shaded　his　eyes　from　the　sun。　He；　too；　looked　long。　Then；　all　at　once；　he　faced　ahead　again　and；　bending　lower　in　the　saddle；　began　to　fling　his　right　arm　up　and　down。　That　flinging　Venters　knew　to　be　the　lashing　of　Bells。　Jerry　also　became　active。　And　the　three　racers　lengthened　out　into　a　run。

〃Now；　Wrangle！〃　cried　Venters。　〃Run；　you　big　devil！　Run！〃

Venters　laid　the　reins　on　Wrangle's　neck　and　dropped　the　loop　over　the　pommel。　The　sorrel　needed　no　guiding　on　that　smooth　trail。　He　was　surer…footed　in　a　run　than　at　any　other　fast　gait；　and　his　running　gave　the　impression　of　something　devilish。　He　might　now　have　been　actuated　by　Venters's　spirit；　undoubtedly　his　savage　running　fitted　the　mood　of　his　rider。　Venters　bent　forward　swinging　with　the　horse；　and　gripped　his　rifle。　His　eye　measured　the　distance　between　him　and　Jerry　Card。

In　less　than　two　miles　of　running　Bells　began　to　drop　behind　the　blacks；　and　Wrangle　began　to　overhaul　him。　Venters　anticipated　that　the　rustler　would　soon　take　to　the　sage。　Yet　he　did　not。　Not　improbably　he　reasoned　that　the　powerful　sorrel　could　more　easily　overtake　Bells　in　the　heavier　going　outside　of　the　trail。　Soon　only　a　few　hundred　yards　lay　between　Bells　and　Wrangle。　Turning　in　his　saddle；　the　rustler　began　to　shoot；　and　the　bullets　beat　up　little　whiffs　of　dust。　Venters　raised　his　rifle；　ready　to　take　snap　shots；　and　waited　for　favorable　opportunity　when　Bells　was　out　of　line　with　the　forward　horses。　Venters　had　it　in　him　to　kill　these　men　as　if　they　were　skunk…bitten　coyotes；　but　also　he　had　restraint　enough　to　keep　from　shooting　one　of　Jane's　beloved　Arabians。

No　great　distance　was　covered；　however；　before　Bells　swerved　to　the　left；　out　of　line　with　Black　Star　and　Night。　Then　Venters；　aiming　high　and　waiting　for　the　pause　between　Wrangle's　great　strides；　began　to　take　snap　shots　at　the　rustler。　The　fleeing　rider　presented　a　broad　target　for　a　rifle；　but　he　was　moving　swiftly　forward　and　bobbing　up　and　down。　Moreover；　shooting　from　Wrangle's　back　was　shooting　from　a　thunderbolt。　And　added　to　that　was　the　danger　of　a　low…placed　bullet　taking　effect　on　Bells。　Yet；　despite　these　considerations；　making　the　shot　exceedingly　difficult；　Venters's　confidence；　like　his　implacability；　saw　a　speedy　and　fatal　termination　of　that　rustler's　race。　On　the　sixth　shot　the　rustler　threw　up　his　arms　and　took　a　flying　tumble　off　his　horse。　He　rolled　over　and　over