the trail of the white mule-第5部分

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and　remove　his　coat　before　he　could　squeeze　his　body　through　that
crack。　　But　he　did　it；　with　his　six…shooter　inside　his　shirt　and
the　extra　ammunition　weighting　his　trousers　pockets。

In　spite　of　his　long　experience　with　desert　scenery；　Casey　was
somewhat　astonished　to　find　himself　in　a　new　land；　fairly　level
and　with　thick　groves　of　pinon　cedar　and　juniper　trees　scattered
here　and　there。　　Far　away　stood　other　barren　hills　with　deep
canyons　between。　　He　knew　now　that　the　black…capped　butte　was
less　a　butte　than　the　uptilted　nose　of　a　high　plateau　not　half　so
barren　as　the　lower　country。　　From　the　pointing　Joshua　tree　it
had　seemed　a　peak；　but　contours　are　never　so　deceptive　as　in　the
high；　broken　barrens　of　Nevada。

He　looked　down　into　the　gulch　where　Barney　was　holed　up　with
their　outfit。　　He　could　scarcely　distinguish　the　place；　it　had
dwindled　so　with　the　distance。　　He　had　small　hope　of　seeing
Barney。　　After　that　last　leaden　bee　had　buzzed　through　his　hat
crown；　you　would　have　to　dig　faster　than　Barney　if　you　wanted　a
look　at　him。　Casey　grinned　when　he　thought　of　it。

When　he　had　gotten　his　breath　and　had　scraped　some　loose　dirt　out
of　his　shirt　collar；　Casey　crouched　down　behind　a　juniper　and
examined　his　surroundings　carefully；　his　pale；　straight…lidded
eyes　moving　slowly　as　the　white；　pointing　finger　of　a　searchlight
while　he　took　in　every　small　detail　within　view。　　Midway　in　the
arc　of　his　vision　was　a　ledge；　ending　in　a　flat…topped　boulder。

The　ledge　blocked　his　view；　except　that　he　could　see　trees　and　a
higher　peak　of　rocks　beyond　it。　　He　made　his　way　cautiously
toward　the　ledge；　his　eyes　fixed　upon　the　boulder。　　A　huge；
sloping　slab　of　the　granite　outcropping　it　seemed；　scaly　with
gray…green　fungus　in　the　cracks　where　moisture　longest　remained；
granite　ledge　banked　with　low　junipers　warped　and　stunted　and
tangled　with　sage。　The　longer　Casey　looked　at　the　boulder；　the
less　he　saw　that　seemed　unnatural　in　a　country　filled　with
boulders　and　outcroppings　and　stunted　vegetation。

But　the　longer　he　looked　at　it；　the　stronger　grew　his　animal
instinct　that　something　was　wrong。　　He　waited　for　a　timea　long
time　indeed　for　Casey　Ryan　to　wait。　　There　was　no　stir　anywhere
save　the　sweep　of　the　wind　blowing　steadily　from　the　west。

He　crept　forward；　halting　often；　eyeing　the　boulder　and　its
neighboring　ledge；　distrust　growing　within　him；　though　he　saw
nothing；　heard　nothing　but　the　wind　sweeping　through　branches　and
bush。　　Casey　Ryan　was　never　frightened　in　his　life。　　But　he　was
Irish　bornand　there's　something　in　Irish　blood　that　will　not
out；　something　that　goes　beyond　reason　into　the　world　of　unknown
wisdom。

It's　a　tricksy　world；　that　realm　of　intuitions。　　For　this　is　what
befell　Casey　Ryan；　and　you　may　account　for　it　as　best　pleases
you。

He　circled　the　rock　as　a　wolf　will　circle　a　coiled　rattler　which
it　does　not　see。　　Beyond　the　rock；　built　close　against　it　so　that
the　rear　wall　must　have　been　the　face　of　the　ledge；　a　little　rock
cabin　squatted　secretively。　　One　small　window；　with　two　panes　of
glass　was　set　high　under　the　eaves　on　the　side　toward　Casey。
Cleverly　concealed　it　was；　built　to　resemble　the　ledge。　　Visible
from　one　side　only；　and　that　was　the　side　where　Casey　stood。　At
the　back　the　sloping　boulder；　untouched；　impregnable；　at　the
north　and　west；　a　twist　of　the　ledge　that　hid　the　cabin
completely　in　a　niche。　　It　was　the　window　on　the　south　side　that
betrayed　it。

So　here　was　what　the　boulder　concealed；and　yet；　Casey　was　not
satisfied　with　the　discovery。　　Unconsciously　he　reached　for　his
gun。　This；　he　told　himself；　must　be　the　secret　habitation　of　the
fiend　who　shot　from　rim…rocks　with　terrible　precision　at　harmless
prospectors　and　their　burros。

Casey　squinted　up　at　the　sun　and　turned　his　level　gaze　again　upon
the　cabin。　　Reason　told　him　that　the　man　with　the　rifle　was　still
watching　for　a　pot　shot　at　him　and　Barney；　and　that　there　was
nothing　whatever　to　indicate　the　presence　of　only　one　man　in　the
camp　below。　Had　he　been　glimpsed　once　during　the　climb；　he　would
have　been　fired　upon；　he　would　never　have　been　given　the　chance
to　gain　the　top　and　find　this　cabin。

The　place　looked　deserted。　　His　practical；　everyday　mind　told　him
it　was　empty　for　the　time　being。　　But　he　felt　queer　and
uncomfortable；　nevertheless。　　He　sneaked　along　the　ledge　to　the
cabin；　flattened　himself　against　the　corner　next　the　gray　boulder
and　waited　there　for　a　minute。　　He　felt　the　flesh　stiffening　on
his　jaws　as　he　crept　up　to　the　window　to　look　in。　　By　standing　on
his　toes；　Casey's　eyes　came　on　a　level　with　the　lowest　inch　of
glass；the　window　was　so　high。

Just　at　first　Casey　could　not　see　much。　　Then；　when　his　eyes　had
adjusted　themselves　to　the　half　twilight　within；　his　mind　at
first　failed　to　grasp　what　he　saw。　　Gradually　a　dimly　sensed
dread　took　hold　of　him；　and　grew　while　he　stood　there　peering　in
at　commonplace　things　which　should　have　given　him　no　feeling　save
perhaps　a　faint　surprise。

A　fairly　clean；　tiny　room　he　saw；　with　a　rough；　narrow　bed　in　one
corner　and　a　box　table　at　its　head。　　From　the　ceiling　hung　a
lantern　with　the　chimney　smoked　on　one　side　and　the　warped；　pole
rafter　above　it　slightly　blackened　to　show　how　long　the　lantern
had　hung　there　lighted。　　A　door　opposite　the　tiny　window　was
closed；　and　there　was　no　latch　or　fastening　on　the　inner　side。　
An　Indian　blanket　covered　half　the　floor　space；　and　in　the　corner
opposite　the　bed　was　a　queer；　drumlike　thing　of　sheet　iron　with　a
pipe　running　through　the　wall；　some　heating　arrangement；　Casey
guessed。

In　the　center　of　the　room；　facing　the　window；　a　woman　sat　in　a
wooden　rocking　chair　and　rocked。　　A　pale　old　woman　with　dark
hollows　under　her　eyes　that　were　fixed　upon　the　pattern　of　the
Indian　rug。　Her　hair　was　white。　　Her　thin；　white　hands　rested
limply　on　the　arms　of　the　chair；　and　she　was　rocking　back　and
forth；　back　and　forth；　steadily；　quietly；just　rocking　and
staring　at　the　Indian　rug。

Casey　has　since　told　me　that　she　was　the　creepiest　thing　he　ever
saw　in　his　life。　　Yet　he　could　not　explain　why　it　was　so。　The
woman's　face　was　not　so　old；　though　it　was　lined　and　without
color。　　There　was　a　terrible　quiet　in　her　features；　but　he　felt；
somehow；　that　her　thoughts　were　not　quiet。　　It　was　as　if　her
thoughts　were　reaching　out　to　him；　telling　him　things　too　awful
for　her　thin；　hushed　lips　to　let　pass。

But　after　all；　Casey's　main　object　was　to　locate　the　man　with　the
rifle；　and　to　do　it　before　he　himself　was　seen　on　the　butte。　　He
watched　a　little　longer　the　woman　who　rocked　and　rocked。　Never
once　did　her　eyes　move　from　that　fixed　point　on　the　rug。　　Never
once　did　her　fingers　move　on　the　arm　of　the　chair。　　Her　mouth
remained　immobile　as　the　lips　of　a　dead　woman。　　He　had　to　force
himself　to　leave　the　window；　and　when　he　did；　he　felt　guilty；　as
if　he　had　somehow　deserted　some　one　helpless　and　needing　him。　　He
sneaked　back；　lifted　himself　and　took　another　long　look。　　The　old
woman　was　rocking　back　and　forth；　her　face　quiet　with　that
terrible；　pent　placidity　which　Casey　could　not　understand。

Away　from　the　cabin　a　pebble's　throw；　he　shook　his　shoulders　and
pulled　his　mind　away　from　her；　back　to　the　man　with　the　rifle
and　to　Barney。　　Rocking　in　a　chair　never　hurt　anybody　that　he
ever　heard　of。　　And　shooting　from　rim…rocks　did。　　And　Barney　was
down　there；　holed　up　and　helpless；　though　he　had　grub　and　water。
Casey　was　up　here　in　a　mighty　dangerous　place　without　much　grub
or　water　buthe　hopednot　quite　helpless。　　His　immediate；
pressing　job　was　not　to　peek　through　a　high…up　window　at　an　old
woman　rocking　back　and　forth　in　a　chair；　but　to　round　up　the　man
who　was　interfering　with　Casey's　peaceful　quest　forwell；　he
called　it　wealth；　but　I　think　that　adventure　meant　more　to　him。

He　picked　his　way　carefully　along　the　edge　of　the　rim…rock；
keeping　under　cover　when　he　could　and　watching　always　the　country
ahead。　　And　without　any　artful　description　of　his　progress；　I
will　simply　say　that　Casey　Ryan　combed　the　edge　of　that　rampart
for　two　miles　before　dark；　and　found　himself　at　last　on　the　side
farthest　from　Barney　without　having　discovered　the　faintest　trace
of　any　living　soul　save　the　woman　who　rocked　back　and　forth　in
the　little；　secret　cabin。

Casey　sat　down　on　a　rock；　took　a　restrained　drink　from　his
canteen；　and　said　everything　he　knew　or　could　invent　that　was
profane　and　condemnatory　of　his　luck；　of　the　unseen　assassin；　of
the　country　and　his　present　predicament。　　He　got　up；　looked　all
around　him；　sniffed　unavailingly　for　some　tang　of　smoke　in　the
thin；　crisp　air；　reseated　himself　and　said　everything　all　over
again。

Presently　he　rose　and　made　his　way　straight　across　the　butte；
going　slowly　to　lessen　his　chance　of　making　a　noise　for
unfriendly　ears　to　hear；　and　with　the　stars　for　guidance。



CHAPTER　FOUR

The　night　was　growing　cold；　and　Casey　had　no　coat。　　At　least　he
could　go　down　and　tell　Barney　what　he　had　discovered　and　had
failed　to　discover；　and　get　something　to　eat。　　Barney　would
probably　be　worrying　about　him；　though　there　was　a　chance　that　a
bullet　had　found　Barney　before　dark。　　Casey　was　uneasy；　and　once
he　was　down　the　fissure　again；　he　hurried　as　much　as　possible。

He　managed　to　reach　the　camp　by　the　little　spring　without　being
shot　at　and　without　breaking　a　leg。　　But　Barney　was　not　there。
Just　at　first　Casey　believed　he　was　dead；　but　a　brief　search　told
Casey　that　two　of　the　largest　canteens　were　gone；　together　with　a
side　of　bacon；　some　flour　and　all　of　the　tobacco。　　White
assassins　would　have　made　a　more　thorough　job　of　robbing　the
camp。　　Barney；　it　was　evident；　had　fled　the　fate　of　the　burros。

Casey　told　the　stars　what　he　thought　of　a　partner　like　Barney。
Afterward　he　ate　what　was　easiest　to　swallow　without　cooking；
overhauled　what　was　left　of　their　outfit；　cached　the　remainder　in
a　clump　of　bushes；　and　wearily　climbed　the　bluff　again　under　a
capacity　load。　　He　concealed　himself　in　the　bottom　of　the　fissure
to　sleep；　since　he　could　search　no　farther。

If　he　thought　wistfully　of　the　palled　comfort　of　his　apartment　in
Los　Angeles；　and　of　the　Little　Woman　there；　he　still　did　not
think　strong