In the dark kitchen a very old woman and a slovenly girl were at work. No one else was to be found anywhere.
De Spain, who was the more experienced tracker, thought he could follow the footprints to the arched opening across the patio. This was closed only by a swinging gate, and afforded easy escape from a pursuer. At some distance outside this gate, as de Spain threw it open, sat Bob Scott on his horse. De Spain made inquiry of Scott. No one had been seen. Returning to Lefever, who, greatly chagrined, had convinced himself that Sassoon had got away, de Spain called Scott into the patio.
A better tracker than either of his companions, Scott after a minute confirmed their belief that Sassoon must have escaped by the window. He then took the two men out to where some one, within a few minutes, had mounted a horse and galloped off.
But where has he gone? demanded Lefever, pointing with his hand. There is the road both ways for three miles. Scott nodded toward the snow-capped peak of Music Mountain. Over to Morgans, most likely. He knows no one would follow him into the Gap. Just for fun, now, lets see.
Dismounting, the Indian scrutinized the hoof-prints where the horse had stood. Getting into the saddle again, he led the way, bending over his horses neck and stopping frequently to read the trail, half a mile out along the Gap road, until he could once more readily point out the hoof-prints to his companions. That is Sassoon, he announced. I know the heels. And I know he rides this horse; it belongs to Gale Morgan. Sassoon, Scott smiled sympathetically on Lefever, is half-way to Morgans Gap.
After him! cried Lefever hotly. De Spain looked inquiringly at the guard. Scott shook his head. That would be all right, but theres two other Calabasas men in the Gap this afternoon it wouldnt be nice to mix withDeaf Sandusky and Harvey Logan.
We wont mix with them, suggested de Spain.
If we tackle Sassoon, theyll mix with us, explained Scott. He reflected a moment. They always stay at Gale Morgans or Dukes. We might sneak Sassoon out without their getting on. Sassoon knows he is safe in the Gap; but hell hide even after he gets there. He takes two precautions for every other mans one. Sassoon is a wonder at hiding out. Ive got the Thief River run this afternoon
De Spain looked at him. Well?
Scotts face softened into the characteristic smileakin to a quiet grinthat it often wore. If I didnt have to go through to-day, and the three of us could get to the Gap before daylight to-morrow morning, I would give Sassoon a run for his money in spite of the other fellows.
Dont take your run this afternoon, directed de Spain. Telephone Sleepy Cat for a substitute. Suppose we go back, get something to eat, and you two ride singly over toward the Gap this afternoon; lie outside under cover to see whether Sassoon or his friends leave before nighttheres only one way out of the place, they tell me. Then I will join you, and well ride in before daylight, and perhaps catch him while everybody is asleep.
If you do, predicted Scott, in his deliberate way of expressing a conclusion, I think youll get him.
It was so arranged.
CHAPTER V ROUNDING UP SASSOON
Scott was the first to reach the trees. The little grove spreads across a slope half a mile wide between the base of one towering cliff, still bearing its Spanish name, El Capitan, and the gorge of the Purgatoire. To the east of this point the trails to Calabasas and to Sleepy Cat
divide, and here Scott and Lefever received de Spain, who had ridden slowly and followed Scotts injunctions to keep the red star to the right of El Capitan all the way across the Sinks.
Securing their horses, the three stretched out on the open ground to wait for daylight. De Spain was wakeful, and his eyes rested with curiosity on the huge bulk of Music Mountain, rising overwhelmingly above him. Through the Gap that divided the great, sentinel-like front of El Capitan, marking the northern face of the mountain rift, from Round Top, the south wall of the opening, stars shone vividly, as if lighting the way into the silent range beyond.
The breathing of his companions soon assured de Spain that both were asleep. The horses were quiet, and the night gave no sound save that vaguely through the darkness came the faint brawl of tiny cataracts tumbling down far mountain heights. De Spain, lying on his side, his head resting on his elbow, and his hands clasped at the back of his neck, meditated first on how he should capture Sassoon at daybreak, and then on Nan Morgan and her mountain home, into which he was about to break to drag out a criminal. Sassoon and his malice soon drifted out of his mind, but Nan remained. She stayed with him, it seemed, for hoursappearing and disappearing, in one aspect more alluring than another. Then her form outlined in the mists that rose from the hidden creek seemed to hover somewhere near until Scotts hand laid on the dreamers shoulder drove it suddenly away. Day was at hand.