"Huh! We must 'a' swapped ends tonight; but I'll bet he's doin' more wonderin' than me. He thinks he's got a lead, findin' that rope. I know he didn't see me put it there, or go down it; an' I'll bet he don't know that I came back to it. He can watch an' be cussed."
CHAPTER VII
A COUNCIL OF WAR
Clearing away the breakfast pans the following morning, Johnny did some soliloquizing.
"This is a nice little shack, but I ain't stuck on it a whole lot. Now that I've built it, I've got to use it or tip off my hand; an' as long as I use it they know where to find me. I've got to come back to it. At th' worst I can hold it against them for five days; an' then th' outfit'll be up here an' drive 'em off. But if it comes to trouble they won't let me get to it; they'll pick me off when I'm outside. They're gettin' more suspicious all th' time, too, judgin' from that missin' rope an' th' smell of that cigar. Nope; I don't like this shack a little bit. An' some night when I'm sneakin' back to it, suppose one of 'em is in it, waitin' for me? That wouldn't be nice. First chance I get I'll tote my tarpaulin an' some supplies out of here an' cache 'em some place not too far away."
Going into the little valley he was greatly surprised to see the rope hanging as he had left it, but he did not give it a second glance, and acted as though he was ignorant that it had been removed. He busied himself carrying firewood from the pile and heaping it up in the center of a cleared space, ready to be lit later on, and then removed the two saplings which made the gate to his rough fence and swung them aside so that they formed a V-shaped approach to the opening. Having performed these mysterious rites he passed the cabin, climbed up the crevice, recovered the rope, and returned. Carrying it into the house he carelessly closed the door behind him, went swiftly to the loose log in the rear wall and removed the things he had hidden behind it, rolling them up in the tarpaulin. Then he picked ravelings from an empty salt sack, tied them together and rolled them in the dirt on the floor until they matched it in color. After filling the water pails and chopping some firewood he took the gold pan and his rod and sought the creek, where he spent the rest of the day working and fishing.
Darkness found his supper dishes washed and put away, and, kneeling by the door, he stretched a string of weak ravelings across the opening, six inches above the sill. Cord not only would have been too prominent, but too strong; a foot would break the ravelings and never feel the contact. Whistling to Pepper, he took his saddle and the tarpaulin, stepped high over the door sill and in a few minutes was riding down the valley. Just before he came to the Hastings trail he threw the tarpaulin far into the brush without slowing the horse, and then, crossing the trail, plunged into the sloping draw which eventually became Little Canyon.
Pepper gingerly picked her way down the rough canyon trail without any directions from her rider, crossed the level, bowlder-strewn flat to the river, and stopped at the water's edge.
The Deepwater gurgled and swished, cold, swift, deep, and black, and Johnny shivered in anticipation of the discomforts due to be his for the next few hours. Unbuckling his belts, he slung them around his neck, and in his hat he placed the contents of his pockets. Giving Pepper a friendly and encouraging slap, he urged her into the river, a task which she did not like; but she overcame her prejudices against ice water and plunged in, swimming with powerful strokes. Emerging on the other bank they cantered briskly to the faintly beaten trail where Billy Atwood spent so many hours, and along it until a small, isolated clump of trees loomed up. There was a stump among them and on this Johnny placed a stone. Then he waited, shivering, until the moon came up.