Her eyes evaded the meeting. “Pickles will have to be rounded up,” she said. “He’s probably halfway to Nelson by this time. And there’s Grandmother to think of.”
“Well, you think of those things until I get back,” he said, with a swift smile. “I can’t leave my partner to shoot it out alone.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
NEVADA
He ran to the point of rocks, gathered himself together and cleared the trail and the open space beyond in one leap. How he got up the steep bank he never remembered afterward. He only knew that he heard the sharp crack of the first rifle again as he was sprinting up the little gully that had concealed his descent. He gained the top, stopped to get his bearings more accurately and made his way toward the spot where he had seen the man with the rifle.
It occurred to him that he had best approach the spot from the shelter of the ledge where he had separated from Johnny Buffalo. At that point he could pick up the Indian’s tracks and follow them, so saving time in the long run.
Johnny Buffalo’s moccasins left little trace in the gravelly soil. But here and there they left a mark, and Rawley got the direction and hurried on. Fifty yards farther up the ridge he glimpsed something yellowish-brown against a small juniper. A few feet farther, he saw that it was Johnny Buffalo, lying on his face, one arm thrown outward with the hand still grasping the stock of his rifle.
He snatched up the rifle, crouched beside the Indian and searched the neighborhood with his eyes, trying to get a sight of the killer. In a moment he spied him, away down the deep ravine up which he and Johnny Buffalo had toiled not half an hour before. The man was running. Rawley raised the rifle to his shoulder, took careful aim and fired, but he had small hope of hitting his target at that distance.
At the sound of the shot so close above him, Johnny Buffalo stirred uneasily, as if disturbed in his sleep. The man in the distance ducked out of sight amongst the bowlders; and that was the last Rawley saw of him at that time.
“I must apologize for not taking you more seriously when you warned me,” said the girl, just behind him. “Is this—?”
“My partner, Johnny Buffalo. He isn’t dead—he moved, just now—but I’m afraid he’s badly hurt.” Rawley lifted anxious blue eyes to her face.