The silence ensuing was fraught with a suspense that held Jean in cold bonds. He saw the girl below rise from her knees, one hand holding the blouse to her breast, the other extended, and with strange, repressed, almost frantic look she swayed toward the door.
“Wal, talk,” ordered Colter, harshly.
“Jim, there ain’t a hell of a lot,” replied Springer; drawing a deep breath, “but what there is is shore interestin’.... Me an’ Somers took Antonio with us. He left his woman with the sheep. An’ we rode up the canyon, clumb out on top, an’ made a circle back on the ridge. That’s the way we’ve been huntin’ fer tracks. Up thar in a bare spot we run plump into Queen sittin’ against a tree, right out in the open. Queerest sight y’u ever seen! The damn gunfighter had set down to wait for Isbel, who was trailin’ him, as we suspected—an’ he died thar. He wasn’t cold when we found him.... Somers was quick to see a trick. So he propped Queen up an’ tied the guns to his hands—an’, Jim, the queerest thing aboot that deal was this—Queen’s guns was empty! Not a shell left! It beat us holler.... We left him thar, an’ hid up high on the bluff, mebbe a hundred yards off. The hosses we left back of a thicket. An’ we waited thar a long time. But, sure enough, the half-breed come. He was too smart. Too much Injun! He would not cross the open, but went around. An’ then he seen Queen. It was great to watch him. After a little he shoved his rifle out an’ went right fer Queen. This is when I wanted to shoot. I could have plugged him. But Somers says wait an’ make it sure. When Isbel got up to Queen he was sort of half hid by the tree. An’ I couldn’t wait no longer, so I shot. I hit him, too. We all begun to shoot. Somers showed himself, an’ that’s when Isbel opened up. He used up a whole magazine on Somers an’ then, suddenlike, he quit. It didn’t take me long to figger mebbe he was out of shells. When I seen him run I was certain of it. Then we made for the hosses an’ rode after Isbel. Pretty soon I seen him runnin’ like a deer down the ridge. I yelled an’ spurred after him. There is where Antonio quit me. But I kept on. An’ I got a shot at Isbel. He ran out of sight. I follered him by spots of blood on the stones an’ grass until I couldn’t trail him no more. He must have gone down over the cliffs. He couldn’t have done nothin’ else without me seein’ him. I found his rifle, an’ here it is to prove what I say. I had to go back to climb down off the Rim, an’ I rode fast down the canyon. He’s somewhere along that west wall, hidin’ in the brush, hard hit if I know anythin’ aboot the color of blood.”
“Wal! ... that beats me holler, too,” ejaculated Colter.
“Jim, what’s to be done?” inquired Springer, eagerly. “If we’re sharp we can corral that half-breed. He’s the last of the Isbels.”
“More, pard. He’s the last of the Isbel outfit,” declared Colter. “If y’u can show me blood in his tracks I’ll trail him.”
“Y’u can bet I’ll show y’u,” rejoined the other rustler. “But listen! Wouldn’t it be better for us first to see if he crossed the canyon? I reckon he didn’t. But let’s make sure. An’ if he didn’t we’ll have him somewhar along that west canyon wall. He’s not got no gun. He’d never run thet way if he had.... Jim, he’s our meat!”
“Shore, he’ll have that knife,” pondered Colter.
“We needn’t worry about thet,” said the other, positively. “He’s hard hit, I tell y’u. All we got to do is find thet bloody trail again an’ stick to it—goin’ careful. He’s layin’ low like a crippled wolf.”
“Springer, I want the job of finishin’ that half-breed,” hissed Colter. “I’d give ten years of my life to stick a gun down his throat an’ shoot it off.”