Zane Grey Read Online Free PDF

his arm. He swears he'll kill us
all. But Chance and the rest of the gang won't be in till late. We've
time to reach the Coconina Trail, if we hustle."
    "Any news of Snap?"
    "He rode out before sundown."
    Three more forms emerged from the gloom.
    "All right, boys. Go ahead, Dave, you lead."
    Dave and George Naab mounted their mustangs and rode through the gate;
the first wagon rolled after them, its white dome gradually dissolving in
the darkness; the second one started; then August Naab stepped to his
seat on the third with a low cluck to the team. Hare shut the gate and
climbed over the tail-board of the wagon.
    A slight swish of weeds and grasses brushing the wheels was all the sound
made in the cautious advance. A bare field lay to the left; to the right
low roofs and sharp chimneys showed among the trees; here and there
lights twinkled. No one hailed; not a dog barked.
    Presently the leaders turned into a road where the iron hoofs and wheels
cracked and crunched the stones.
    Hare thought he saw something in the deep shade of a line of
poplar-trees; he peered closer, and made out a motionless horse and
rider, just a shade blacker than the deepest gloom. The next instant
they vanished, and the rapid clatter of hoofs down the road told Hare his
eyes had not deceived him.
    "Getup," growled Naab to his horses. "Jack, did you see that fellow?"
    "Yes. What was he doing there?"
    "Watching the road. He's one of Dene's scouts."
    "Will Dene—"
    One of Naab's sons came trotting back. "Think that was Larsen's pal. He
was laying in wait for Snap."
    "I thought he was a scout for Dene," replied August.
    "Maybe he's that too."
    "Likely enough. Hurry along and keep the gray team going lively.
They've had a week's rest."
    Hare watched the glimmering lights of the village vanish one by one, like
Jack-o'-lanterns. The horses kept a steady, even trot on into the huge
windy hall of the desert night. Fleecy clouds veiled the stars, yet
transmitted a wan glow. A chill crept over Hare. As he crawled under
the blankets Naab had spread for him his hand came into contact with a
polished metal surface cold as ice. It was his rifle. Naab had placed
it under the blankets. Fingering the rifle Hare found the spring opening
on the right side of the breech, and, pressing it down, he felt the round
head of a cartridge. Naab had loaded the weapon, he had placed it where
Hare's hand must find it, yet he had not spoken of it. Hare did not stop
to reason with his first impulse. Without a word, with silent
insistence, disregarding his shattered health, August Naab had given him
a man's part to play. The full meaning lifted Hare out of his
self-abasement; once more he felt himself a man.
    Hare soon yielded to the warmth of the blankets; a drowsiness that he
endeavored in vain to throw off smothered his thoughts; sleep glued his
eyelids tight. They opened again some hours later. For a moment he
could not realize where he was; then the whip of the cold wind across his
face, the woolly feel and smell of the blankets, and finally the steady
trot of horses and the clink of a chain swinging somewhere under him,
recalled the actuality of the night ride. He wondered how many miles had
been covered, how the drivers knew the direction and kept the horses in
the trail, and whether the outlaws were in pursuit. When Naab stopped
the team and, climbing down, walked back some rods to listen, Hare felt
sure that Dene was coming. He listened, too, but the movements of the
horses and the rattle of their harness were all the sounds he could hear.
Naab returned to his seat; the team started, now no longer in a trot;
they were climbing. After that Hare fell into a slumber in which he
could hear the slow grating whirr of wheels, and when it ceased he awoke
to raise himself and turn his ear to the back trail. By-and-by he
discovered that the black night had changed to gray; dawn was not far
distant; he dozed and awakened to clear light. A rose-red horizon lay
far below and to the