Scott Burton on the Range

by Edward G. Cheyney

The horseman passed through the chute and so close to Scott that he instinctively shrank back although he knew that he could not be seen. But he had forgotten the horse’s nose in laying his plans. The animal gave a snort of fear and shied violently. It might have led a more curious or less preoccupied man to stop and investigate, but Dawson did not seem to be at all suspicious. Indeed, he seemed to be so absorbed in his own thought that he hardly noted the actions of his horse.

Dawson’s apparent indifference reassured Scott. As soon as he was sure that he could not be seen he slipped from the shadows and followed as swiftly and noiselessly as he could. When hidden by a bend in the trail he ran, in the straight stretches he was obliged to drop farther back. The cañon was steep and the pace was slow enough to make shadowing rather easy. There did not seem to be any hesitation on Dawson’s part. He seemed to know exactly where he was going and Scott gained the impression that there had been such meetings before in a place well known to both parties. This impression was strengthened when Dawson reined in so suddenly that he almost ran onto him at a sharp bend, listened a second, and rode confidently into the scattered brush beside the road.

Scott listened a moment. He could still hear the horse going so he ducked into the brush and followed. Yes, it was evidently a well known meeting place. Dawson could not expect to be found away back in there except by some one who knew the way. At last the horse stopped. Scott listened for voices. Probably Jed had not arrived for he could not hear anything. He thought it safest to circle the spot and sneak up from the other side; he did not want Jed to stumble over him.

The experience up the trail with Dawson’s horse had taught him a lesson. He remembered that a horse has very keen eyesight, could see in the dark, and could also hear and smell much better than a man. It would be necessary to steer clear of the horses. He circled far out to the left and crawled as cautiously as an Indian. A turned over stone or a slip of any kind might be fatal to the whole enterprise now. It was slow, tiresome work, but intensely exciting. When the slope of the ground and the stars told him that he was about opposite the place where he started he slowly closed in on the trail. He was moving almost by inches now and stopping every few feet to listen. There was not a sound to guide him.

Suddenly Dawson struck a match to light his pipe. It was not more than fifteen feet to one side. It seemed to Scott like a coast defense search light. He could see Dawson so plainly, sitting comfortably on the ground with his back against an aspen tree, that it seemed as though Dawson must see him. He crouched as flat as he could and would have dug into the ground if he had been a badger. It never occurred to him that the match had effectually blinded Dawson to everything around him. It made him shudder to think that if his direction had been a little more accurate he would have been right on top of that silent figure before he struck the match.

Scott started backing up inch by inch to avoid the possibility of getting in Jed’s path. He had hardly gained what he considered to be a safe position when he heard the soft thud of unshod hoofs and saw a dark shadow looming up through the brush in the direction of the trail. He had become so accustomed to the starlight that he could see pretty well now. The newcomer rode straight toward the little tree where Dawson was sitting, dismounted about twenty feet away and strode over there.

It was Jed Clark, and Scott could see, even in that uncertain light that he was in an ugly mood.

“Fine night for a party,” Dawson ventured by way of greeting.

Jed answered with a burst of profanity. “Fine mess that saintly patrolman of yours has gotten us into, too. That fellow is too good for this world and if I get a good chance I’ll send him up where he belongs.”

“Pshaw, what are you fussing about. This recount is the best thing that ever happened. I saw Dugan to-day and he said they had the sheep hidden as snug as a bug in a rug.”