At dawn he was at the painful task again, straining and tugging, and making a little progress all of the time. At last his left hand slipped free, then his right, and with shaking fingers he untied the knots that had held his legs fast.
His legs were so numb that he was forced to crawl out of the lean-to on his hands and knees. Once outside he rested in the bright sunlight, blinking his eyes against the unaccustomed light. He massaged the muscles of his legs until the circulation was back to normal and then he stood up. It was great to be free again.
At a nearby stream Chuck washed his face and hands and gingerly felt of the wound on his head. Nature had done a good job of healing it and unless he got another severe bump, it should heal all right.
Chuck took time to survey his prison. The cabin and lean-to were in the heart of the Cajons, an old trail leading away to the left. It was along this that the rustlers who had visited the cabin traveled. There appeared to be no other exit from the valley and Chuck set out along the trail, walking carefully.
For better than a mile he followed the winding path. Then it opened suddenly into a wider valley and Chuck looked down on the hiding place of the rustlers of the Creeping Shadows.
There was plenty of water here and lots of rich grass. A large pole corral had been built near the far end of the valley where the mountains closed in again. Down there was also a large cabin. The whole valley appeared deserted except for a calico cayuse which was in a smaller corral. Chuck’s heart leaped as he recognized his own horse.
Keeping under shelter as much as possible he made his way down the valley. The entire layout was deserted and he entered the cabin. His saddle and rifle as well as six-gun were piled against one wall and with eager hands Chuck fastened the gun belt around his waist. There was food in the cabin and he soon had a good meal. Rifle in hand and saddle over one shoulder, he started for the corral. Refreshed by the food, he was ready to hit the road.
The dusty trail leading out of the larger corral indicated that a small herd of cattle had been driven out of it a short time before and Chuck picked up the trail and followed it, angling always a little to the left.
A few minutes later the smaller trail joined the one Slim had followed through the mountains, the path the rustlers used in running the cattle out of the Creeping Shadows over to the railroad. Chuck had stumbled on the hiding place where they held the stolen livestock until time to ship them out from the railroad.
Still following the trail of the cattle, Chuck swung toward the railroad. He rode steadily, ever watchful lest he run into another trap of the rustlers. At noon he was well down the east side of the Cajons and he saw the local freight pulling down the main line and stop, but he was still some miles away, too great a distance to see what happened after the freight stopped.