"I'm thankin' you again. Ma'am," he replied. "It shore will, an' you can bank on it," and he pressed Pepper's sides. The horse struck into a stride suggestive of a wish to put miles between her and the scene of her torture, but he pulled her down to a walk. "Yo're entirely too willin', little hoss of mine," he reproved, patting the roughened coat "I was aimin' to do somethin' today, but it can wait. Wolf or no Wolf. If he horns in I won't waste no more time on him, none at all. There's a nice little wooded draw over there, an' we're goin' for it. You got to get rested up an' quieted a little—th' bath can wait a couple of hours. You got to keep in good shape, because th' time is comin' when I'll have to ride you like I had a remuda to draw on—an' I ain't worth a cuss unless yo're in good shape. Yo're my laigs. Pepper, an' no puncher is better'n his cayuse. An' mebby Two-Spot, th' tattle-tale, won't be surprised when he sees you!"
Margaret looked after him and smiled, and then turned and stared at the innocent patch of wet sand under whose hypocritical surface lay grisly death. Shuddering, she sent her pony into a sharp gallop and set out for home, a color in her face which might have been due to the exhilaration of horseback riding.
CHAPTER XII
"COMING EVENTS——"
Johnny entered the draw, found a small clearing, and let Pepper wander, watching her closely, while he went over his guns again, cleaning them thoroughly. The afternoon had half gone when he whistled her to him and rode her down to the rocky pool he had mentioned. Stripping himself, he removed the saddle and its blanket and, mounting bareback, rode her into the stream, where he found a place deep enough to swim her. Crossing and recrossing this several times, he took her out and started to dress; and no sooner was she free than she trotted to a dry, warm patch of sand and rolled to her heart's content, grunting with pleasure.
"Now look at what you've done," he grinned. "After me gettin' you all washed up, you go an' blot yoreself just like a common cayuse. I've been wastin' sympathy on you—there ain't nothin' th' matter with you. An' there's somethin' I want to ask you, before I forget it: Was you ever in a quicksand just like that one? I bet you wasn't. I've crossed some rivers in my time, an' had cattle bogged in several—but this was different, somehow. Mebby it's because it wasn't under water; but I don't know. I was scared we'd bust yore laigs; mebby we didn't because we pulled you sideways, an' you raised so much h—l when you felt th' rope tighten, an' heard me call you. Just th' same, I'm sayin' we had a close call. An' we mustn't forget it. Come here, now, an' let me throw this saddle on you. We're goin' to town, an' yore goin' to get robbed till you shines. I'm as stuck-up about you as a gal is over her first beau."
In a few minutes they were on their way to Gunsight, but they did not reach the town without incident. They had ridden to Pine Mountain and Johnny, wishing to see if Squint's saddle had been discovered, hid Pepper in a dump of brush and scrub timber well back from the trail and, taking his rifle, crossed the beaten road at a rocky place and worked his way into the brush on the mountain side. When he had climbed about eighty feet he reached a little rock shelf and rested a moment. As he was about to go on he heard hoofbeats down the trail and he flattened himself behind a tuft of grass growing in a crack. Looking down the trail he saw a horseman round into sight from the arroyo leading from East Canyon.
"Smitty," he muttered. "I don't think much of him, an' I reckon he'll scare. An' mebby if he's scared near to death a few times he'll figger he ain't wanted around here, an' hit th' trail out. Mebby I'm wrong, but here's where Mr. Smitty gets a jolt he won't forget. It will be Number One. Whether or not he gets any more will depend on how he takes this one. I'm bettin' he don't stalk me for it—here he comes, ridin' lazy an' tryin' to sing. I ought to be able to come awful close at this distance, with a rifle layin' on a rock rest."