“But they’re not—and they won’t be. That’s his reputation, to do all sorts of deviltry and get away with it. That’s why men won’t cross him, why they’re so afraid of him. He’s got no scruples and he’s as cunning as the devil.”
“I’ve heard he’s a tough nut, too. He don’t look it, with them skim-milk eyes of his and that little squeaky voice.”
“No. Size him up beside Merrick, say, and he doesn’t look effective,” admitted Hollister. “But he’s one of these quiet sure killers, according to the stories they tell. Not a fighting man, unless he’s got his back to the wall. You’ve heard of dry-gulching. It means shooting an enemy from ambush when he doesn’t know you’re within fifty miles. That’s Prowers’s style. He gives me a creepy feeling.”
“Here, too. You know that fool cackling laugh of his. Well, the other day when he was pulling off the ha-ha I got a look from him that jolted me. Lord, it dried my blood up. I’d hate to meet him in one o’ them dry gulches if he had any reason for wantin’ me outa the way.”
“Yes.” Hollister came back to business. “Believe I’d increase the size of the shots, Tom. We’re in pretty hard rock right now.”
They were running the tunnel at the narrowest point of the hogback, which rose at a sharp angle. The snows began before it was more than half finished. Not willing to risk being cut off from supplies, Hollister had enough staples hauled in to last him till he would be through. What needs might come up unexpectedly could be met by packers coming in over the drifts from the dam.
Still Prowers had not shown his hand. Hollister began to think him less dangerous than he had supposed. The big bore grew longer every day. In a few weeks it would be finished. Surely the cattleman would not wait to strike until after the job was done.
CHAPTER XXII
A STERN CHASE
The clean bracing air of the Rockies, together with hard work and plenty of it, had poured new life into the blood of Tug Hollister. The ashen, pasty look had been replaced on his face by a coat of healthy brown. The fierce, driving headaches had gone, but there were still hours when the craving for the drug possessed him and sent him tramping through the night to fight the depression that swept in waves through his heart.
Winter settled over the hills. The wind roared along the slope of the divide and drove before it great scudding clouds heavily laden with moisture. Storms fought and screamed around the peaks. Snow fell day after day. It packed in the gulches and drifted into the draws. The landscape became a vast snowfield across which the bitter winds drove and flung themselves at the flapping tents.