IT WAS MORNING WHEN BOB DOZED. HE dreamed he was trying to snatch Dixie from the ravaging flames. He was perspiring nervously when he awoke. There was no use trying to sleep. He got up and built up the fire. Then, not because he was hungry, but because he felt the need of nourishment, he fried some bacon in the pan they had left behind, boiled some coffee, and ate. He than began a hurried investigation.
He discovered that several horses had been standing in front of the cabin. He trailed them on foot for half a mile up the canyon. All at once he became a different man. Hope leaped to support him. Someone, maybe several, had escaped. He must find out whether or not one of them was Dixie.
In half an hour he was following the trail of the fugitives up the rough trail toward the summit over which he himself had come. All the morning he looked in vain for signs of a fresh campfire.
There were none. He even hoped that he might come suddenly upon them in some hidden glade. He feared nothing now. He was going to Dixie.
At noon he camped again for an hour to rest his horse, and then on up the main trail he traveled at swinging anxious speed.
It was almost night when he rode up to Ford's Saloon in Oro Fino. He arrived at the hour when the sleepy town began to wake up. During the day the miners were all out on their diggings. In the evening they gathered at the resorts to talk over their daily experiences, and to drink and dance.
A few curious stares greeted him from the men lounging on the porch when he dismounted and went in. Jack Darling greeted him from behind the bar in good old western fashion.
"Well, I'll be strung up if it ain't Bob Bainbridge! Thought you must be daid or something! Come up and wet the whistle. Shorty'll bust a hamstring when he sees you. He was about to ride out to find your carcass."
"Thanks, Jack," Bob answered, taking the proffered glass and filling it from the bottle. He felt the need of a stimulant. "How are you prospering?"
"Fine, since these windjammer sourdoughs got wind of the big strike in the Boise Basin. There's a gang makin' ready to fall in when the Walla Walla bunch trails in. Hey, Shorty!" he called lustily as that bow-legged gentleman came down the stairs. "It's the old reprobate hisself showed up!"
"Wal," cried Shorty, taking the steps two at a time. "Yuh ol' son o' a blister, yuh look like yuh'd seen a ghost! Yore kinda pale under the gills! How's yore laig? We heerd yuh was mussed up some down the shebang way."
Shorty kept up his incessant questioning until Bob cried roughly' "Shut up, leather breeches! I'm not going to try to answer your questions! I'm here and I'm still standing on both feet with my boots on."
"Come on back tuh the counter. I'll bet yore damn near starved!"
"Have you got a good man you can trust to take care of Star Face? I don't eat until I am sure he's tended to. I expect to be riding in a couple of hours."
"Yuh'll what?"
"You heard me, pard."
"Wal' in that case, Bob, I'll take care of Star Face myself. Yuh go right back there an' put yore hoofs under the counter. I'll soon be back."
Bob had not felt hungry, but he ate ravenously once he had started. A fresh venison steak just hit the spot. He sat facing the barroom, occasionally glancing at the girls. He recognized one of the girls they had brought in. She waved to him as she danced. Where was Daisy, he wondered. He hadn't asked Shorty about her.
He was just finishing his last cup of black coffee when Shorty returned.
"Here, Shorty, let's go somewhere where we can talk and I can lie down. I'm dog tired and there's a lot of things I want to ask you."
"Shore, podner. Come right upstairs. Why in thunder don't yuh make yoreself tuh home? Yuh still own a part o' this shebang!" he declared roughly.
Bob stretched out on the bed. Shorty sat down beside him.
"Seen any strangers in town today, Shorty?" Bob began.
Shorty scratched his head. "Wal, no, not me. But Jack said a bunch o' tough lookin' bozos rode in a little after noon. Funny thing, they was bareback, an' from the way they was ridin' he said they musta took all the peelin' offen their hinders. They come in an' bought a drink er two."
Bob looked up excitedly. "Was there a gal among them?"
"Say it careful, podner," Shorty began solemnly. "Yuh ain't meanin' that some gal has got yuh all bound up in her petticoat too, be yuh? Not another Strawberry Roan?"
"Cut the foolishness, Shorty, and answer my question," Bob demanded impatiently.
"My Gawd! Then it is true! Tell me it ain't true! If yuh knowed as much as I do about gals yuh'd shore repent!"
"Shorty!" Bob shouted savagely, "don't be a fool! There's no time to lose! Answer me!"
"Bob, would yuh be so kind as tuh tell me why yore so all-fired het up about this gal? Tell me that an' I'll refer the question tuh the head bartender."
"Shorty, I was shot down this side of the shebang. I tied myself to the horse. Then I went under. When I woke up this gal I'm askin' about had picked me up, hid me away, and nursed me back to life. Shorty, she's the most beautiful girl you ever saw. She's the daughter of John Lee, one of Plummer's Gang, but Dixie wasn't to blame. She's all white."
"Jest like Strawberry Roan, only she wasn't one o' the gang. Keep on."
"When I arrived in Lewiston, I was about all in. I told Beechy and Mrs. Ford how it all happened, and where. I didn't have enough nerve to tell them about Dixie. What a fool I was! Beechy got busy, unbeknown to me, and yesterday afternoon he sent a bunch of new members of the Vigilantes to the shebang to fix them for what happened to me. When I heard it two hours later I followed. Shorty, they destroyed the shebang and everyone in sight. I stayed all night in Rilda's Canyon, or Hidden Canyon as some of them call it. I picked up the trail there of the few who escaped. That's why I must know whether Dixie got away." He shook his head. "She'll think I'm a double crosser!"
"Cheer up' pard," Shorty encouraged. "I'll find out all about it, an' when I come back I'll know whether they's in town er not, er which way they went. Yuh got tuh git some snooze."
"Another thing, Shorty, how's Daisy?"
"You mean Strawberry Roan? Say, she's got the most even temper o' any filly I ever seed; she's sassy all the time. An' she kin boss better'n any Irishman I ever see. She's gettin' no better, but, doggone, I don't know how this here shebang could git along without her. Ain't yuh seen her yet?"
Bob shook his head.
"No? Well, yuh will."
"You're head and heels in love with her and you know it, Shorty."
"Wal, they ain't no little strawberry roan in the makin's yet. Yore perdiction is all haywire' pard."
"Time is the essence," Bob bantered.
"Aw, hell!" Shorty exploded as he beat a hasty retreat.
Bob knew he could trust Shorty to get the correct lay of the situation, and for the first time since he left Lewiston he relaxed, and in a few minutes he fell into a deep slumber. He had slept possibly two hours when he was rudely awakened by Daisy, who had mistaken him for Shorty.
"Say, Shorty, you bow-legged, cripple-headed galoot! What do you mean sleeping here all night, with me downstairs like a slave taking care of business?"
Bob turned over, arose, and, rubbing his eyes, hooked wildly about before he could remember where he was.
Daisy, in surprise, put her long fingers to her open mouth. "Lordy, Mister Bob, I didn't know it was you! How be you, anyhow?" Then, to his utter amazement, she threw both arms about him and gave him a resounding smack. "I couldn't be half as glad to see Santa Claus as I am to see you!"
Bob blushed and straightened up. He hadn't expected such an effusive greeting from Daisy.
"I'm glad to see you, Daisy. I want to tell you how I appreciate the way you brought Shorty through. How is he, anyway?"
"Oh, Bob, he's a darling. But, honest, he's the hardest man I ever tried to manage. He'll never think as much of me as he does of you."
"Oh, folderol, gal! We're pards only. He loves you, gal, or I'm a Flathead Injun! Let anyone start something with you, and I'll bet my last hat that he'd finish it quick."
Shorty, all out of breath, burst in on their conversation.
"What is it, Shorty?" Bob demanded, swinging his feet to the floor.
"There's hell tuh pay! Burk's been killed!"
"What?" Bob's voice cracked like a whiplash.
Daisy gasped and her face turned ashen white.
"What happened? Quick, Shorty!" Bob demanded.
"He was herdin' Ford's mules fer yuh, an' this evenin' Jim went out tuh take his place an' he finds Burk shot an' daid as a mackerel! Six head o' mules is missin'!"
"What about the other?"
"They was a girl in the bunch. The livery man says she was the purtiest thing he ever saw. Three Finger Smith was in the gang too. The men bought saddles at the post an' supplies fer a trip. They left this afternoon. Don't know which way they went."
"That explains Burk's death. Shorty, we're riding again!"
"We can't do nothin' till morning, Bob. We don't even know which way the killers went er what happened. We couldn't track 'em tonight. I sent Jim with some o' the boys tuh bring Burk in. Comes mornin' we'll ride like hell!"