August Naab hoped that Mescal might have returned in his absence; but to Hare such hope was vain. The women of the oasis met them with gloomy faces presaging bad news, and they were reluctant to tell it. Mescal's flight had been forgotten in the sterner and sadder misfortune that had followed.
Snap Naab's wife lay dangerously ill, the victim of his drunken frenzy.
For days after the departure of August and Jack the man had kept himself in a stupor; then his store of drink failing, he had come out of his almost senseless state into an insane frenzy. He had tried to kill his wife and wreck his cottage, being prevented in the nick of time by Dave Naab, the only one of his brothers who dared approach him. Then he had ridden off on the White Sage trail and had not been heard from since.
The Mormon put forth all his skill in surgery and medicine to save the life of his son's wife, but he admitted that he had grave misgivings as to her recovery. But these in no manner affected his patience, gentleness, and cheer. While there was life there was hope, said August Naab. He bade Hare, after he had rested awhile, to pack and ride out to the range, and tell his sons that he would come later.
It was a relief to leave the oasis, and Hare started the same day, and made Silver Cup that night. As he rode under the low-branching cedars toward the bright camp-fire he looked about him sharply. But not one of the four faces ruddy in the glow belonged to Snap Naab.
"Hello, Jack," called Dave Naab, into the dark. "I knew that was you.
Silvermane sure rings bells when he hoofs it down the stones. How're you and dad? and did you find Mescal? I'll bet that desert child led you clear to the Little Colorado."Hare told the story of the fruitless search.
"It's no more than we expected," said Dave. "The man doesn't live who can trail the peon. Mescal's like a captured wild mustang that's slipped her halter and gone free. She'll die out there on the desert or turn into a stalk of the Indian cactus for which she's named. It's a pity, for she's a good girl, too good for Snap.""What's your news?" inquired Hare.
"Oh, nothing much," replied Dave, with a short laugh. "The cattle wintered well. We've had little to do but hang round and watch. Zeke and I chased old Whitefoot one day, and got pretty close to Seeping Springs. We met Joe Stube, a rider who was once a friend of Zeke's.
He's with Holderness now, and he said that Holderness had rebuilt the corrals at the spring; also he has put up a big cabin, and he has a dozen riders there. Stube told us Snap had been shooting up White Sage. He finished up by killing Snood. They got into an argument about you.""About me!"
"Yes, it seems that Snood took your part, and Snap wouldn't stand for it.
Too bad! Snood was a good fellow. There's no use talking, Snap's going too far--he is--"Dave did not conclude his remark, and the silence was more significant than any utterance.
"What will the Mormons in White Sage say about Snap' killing Snood?""They've said a lot. This even-break business goes al right among gun-fighters, but the Mormons call killing murder. They've outlawed Culver, and Snap will be outlawed next.""Your father hinted that Snap would find the desert tot small for him and me?""Jack, you can't be too careful. I've wanted to speak tc you about it.
Snap will ride in here some day and then--' Dave's pause was not reassuring.
And it was only on the third day after Dave's remark that Hare, riding down the mountain with a deer he had shot, looked out from the trail and saw Snap's cream pinto trotting toward Silver Cup. Beside Snap rode a tall man on a big bay. When Hare reached camp he reported to George and Zeke what he had seen, and learned in reply that Dave had already caught sight of the horsemen, and had gone down to the edge of the cedars.
While they were speaking Dave hurriedly ran up the trail.
"It's Snap and Holderness," he called out, sharply "What's Snap doing with Holderness? What's he bring ing him here for?""I don't like the looks of it," replied Zeke, deliberately.
"Jack, what well you do?" asked Dave, suddenly "Do? What can I do? I'm not going to run out of camp because of a visit from men who don't like me.""It might be wisest."
"Do you ask me to run to avoid a meeting with your brother?""No." The dull red came to Dave's cheek."But will you draw on him?""Certainly not. He's August Naab's son and your brother.""Yes, and you're my friend, which Snap won't think of. Will you draw on Holderness, then?""For the life of me, Dave, I can't tell you," replied Hare, pacing the trail. "Something must break loose in me before I can kill a man. I'd draw, I suppose, in self-defence. But what good would it do me to pull too late? Dave, this thing is what I've feared. I'm not afraid of Snap or Holderness, not that way. I mean I'm not ready. Look here, would either of them shoot an unarmed man?""Lord, I hope not; I don't think so. But you're packing your gun."Hare unbuckled his cartridge-belt, which held his Colt, and hung it over the pommel of his saddle; then he sat down on one of the stone seats near the camp-fire.
"There they come," whispered Zeke, and he rose to his feet, followed by George.
"Steady, you fellows," said Dave, with a warning glance. "I'll do the talking."Holderness and Snap appeared among the cedars, and trotting out into the glade reined in their mounts a few paces from the fire. Dave Naab stood directly before Hare, and George and Zeke stepped aside.
"Howdy, boys?" called out Holderness, with a smile, which was like a gleam of light playing on a frozen lake. His amber eyes were steady, their gaze contracted into piercing yellow points. Dave studied the cattle-man with cool scorn, but refusing to speak to him, addressed hi brother.
"Snap, what do you mean by riding in here with this fellow?""I'm Holderness's new foreman. We're just looking round," replied Snap.
The hard lines, the sullen shade the hawk-beak cruelty had returned tenfold to his face and his glance was like a living, leaping flame.