Chapter XII. The Wild-Goose Chase - Page 2

certainly follow them.

"Well, this is kinda takin' chances," Applehead observed soberly, "unless Ramon, he knows whar's the water-holes. If he does hit water regular, I calc'late we kin purty nigh foller his lead. They's things I don't like about the way this here trail is leading out this way, now I'm tellin' yuh! Way we're goin', we'll be in the Seven Lakes country 'fore we know it. Looks to me like them greasers must stand in purty well with the Navvies--'n' if they do, it'll be dang hard pullin' to git 'em away 'n! outa here. 'N' if they don't stand in, they'd oughta bore more west than what they're doin'. Looks dang queer to me, now I'm tellin' ye!"

"Well, all I want is to overtake them. We'll do it, too. The little grain these horses get is showing its worth right now," Luck cheered him. "They're keeping up better than I was afraid they would. We've got that advantage--a Mexican don't as a rule grain his horses, and the chances are that Ramon thought more about the gold than he did about carrying horse-feed. We can hold on longer than he can, Applehead."

"We can't either," Applehead disputed, "because if Ramon takes a notion he'll steal fresh horses from the Injuns."

"I thought you said he stood in with the Injuns," Weary spoke up from the ambling group, behind. "You're kinda talkin' in circles, ain't you, Applehead?"

"Well, I calc'late yuh jest about got to talk in. circles to git anywheres near Ramon," Applehead retorted, looking back at the others. "They's so, dang many things he might be aimin' to do, that I ain't been right easy in my mind the last day or two, and I'm tellin' ye so. 'S like a storm--I kin smell trouble two days off; that's mebby why I'm still alive an' able to fork a boss. An' I'm tellin' you right now, I kin smell trouble stronger'n a polecat under the chicken-house!"

"Well, by cripes, let 'er come!" Big Medicine roared cheerfully, inspecting a battered plug of "chewin'" to see where was the most inviting corner in which to set his teeth. "Me'n' trouble has locked horns more'n once, 'n' I'd feel right lonesome if I thought our trails'd never cross agin. Why, down in Coconino County--" He went off into a long recital of certain extremely bloody chapters in the history of that famed county as chronicled by one Bud Welch, otherwise known as Big Medicine--and not because of his modesty, you may be sure.

Noon of that day found them plodding across a high, barren mesa under a burning sun. Since red dawn they had been riding, and the horses showed their need of water. They lagged often into a heavy-footed walk and their ears drooped dispiritedly. Even Big Medicine found nothing cheerful to say. Luck went out of his way to gain the top of every little rise, and to scan the surrounding country through his field glasses.