lla.theburninghills-第22部分

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d　without　an　Apache　knowing　it；　it　was　absurd　to　believe　they　would　not　be　aware　of　all　that　had　happened。
　Moreover；　the　Apaches　who　escaped　from　the　kidnapping　of　Maria　Cristina　must　by　now　be　seeking　them　out。　Yet　wherever　he　looked；　the　desert　was　empty。
　Returning　to　the　overhang；　he　found　Maria　Cristina　sitting　by　the　rocks　with　a　rifle　at　hand。　Their　eyes　met　and　no　words　were　needed。　Both　had　grown　up　in　Indian　country；　they　understood　the　gravity　of　their　situation。
　They　were　two　people　with　a　wounded　man　on　their　hands　and　no　telling　when　help　would　reach　them。　The　rain　had　wiped　out　their　trail；　yet　the　Apaches　well　knew　where　they　would　be　going。　It　was　only　a　matter　of　time　until　they　were　discovered。
　They　now　had　four　horses　picketed　and　Jordan　considered　rigging　a　litter　between　two　of　them；　yet　these　horses　were　unused　to　any　such　contrivance　and　would　be　frightened　by　it。　They　were；　at　best；　just　broken　to　the　saddle。
　Slowly　the　hours　dragged　by　and　there　was　nothing。　The　danger　grew　greater　by　the　minute　and　Jordan　was　restless　and　irritable。
　Ben　Hindeman　began　to　mutter　and　plain。　His　fever　mounted　and　he　became　delirious。　Maria　Cristina　sat　with　him；　keeping　damp　cloths　on　his　head。　Several　times　she　mixed　concoctions　used　by　the　Indians　for　fever　and　they　helped；　but　Hindeman　had　lost　blood　from　his　wounds　and　his　condition　was　far　from　good。
　Raiding　parties　from　the　Sierra　Madre　used　this　route　and　the　Chiricahuas　had　their　stronghold　in　the　mountains　just　north　of　the　border。
　By　noon　of　the　second　day　Jordan　knew　something　must　be　done。　He　had　been　leaning　on　the　rocks　staring　into　the　desert's　heat　waves　when　he　made　his　decision。　With　some　poles　and　two　ponchos　he　rigged　a　litter　between　two　horses。　With　Maria　Cristina's　help；　Hindeman　was　loaded　into　the　litter　and；　holding　the　horses　to　a　walk；　they　made　their　start。
　It　was　slow　going　。。。　yet　by　dusk　they　had　covered　fifteen　miles　and　camped　in　a　cluster　of　rocks　near　an　intermittent　stream。
　Ben　Hindeman's　face　was　flushed　and　he　looked　bad。　Jordan　stared　down　at　the　wounded　man；　considering　the　irony　of　the　situation。　Only　hours　ago　this　man　had　been　hunting　him　to　kill　and　now　he；　Jordan；　was　trying　to　save　the　man　from　death　by　bullets　he　had　himself　fired！　And　risking　his　own　life　to　do　it。
　Rifle　in　hand；　Trace　Jordan　walked　out　from　camp。　The　illness　from　his　own　wounds　had　cut　down　his　weight。　He　was　lean　and　raw…boned；　even　tougher…looking　than　usual　and　his　clothing　was　battered　and　worn　from　days　and　nights　of　travel。
　Yet　the　years　of　wilderness　living　had　conditioned　him　to　a　hard　life　and　。。。　he　had　gone　only　a　few　yards　when　he　saw　the　tracks。　The　tracks　of　a　man　walking。
　A　wounded　man　。。。　a　white　man。
　The　man　had　staggered　as　he　walked。　Once　he　had　gone　to　his　knees。　Absorbed　in　the　trail；　Trace　Jordan　followed　it　along　for　a　half…mile。　Twice　the　man　had　fallen　in　that　distance。　At　the　second　place　there　was　blood　on　the　desert。
　Jordan　went　up　to　some　rocks　and　from　the　slight　vantage　point　they　gave　him；　began　a　minute　examination　of　the　terrain。　Suddenly；　some　distance　north；　he　saw　a　dark　object　on　the　desert。
　It　might　be　a　rock。　But　there　was　a　subtle　difference　that　told　him　it　was　not。　He　started　north；　walking　fast。
　Even　before　he　reached　the　body　he　knew　who　it　was。　Old　Jacob　Lantz　had　led　many　a　foray　against　the　Apache　but　he　had　led　his　last　one。　He　lay　sprawled　in　the　desert　and　he　was　dead。　But　his　body　was　neither　cold　nor　stiff。
　He　had　been　shot　three　times　but　one　of。　the　wounds　was　at　least　a　day　old。　Evidently　on　the　first　day　out　from　the　overhang；　Lantz　had　been　wounded　and　his　horse　killed。　By　some　artifice　he　had　evaded　the　Apache　and　started　on。。。　on　foot。
　Today；　probably　within　the　last　few　hours；　they　had　e　up　with　him　again。　And　if　they　had　killed　him　no　longer　ago　than　that；　they　must　be　close　by。　They　might　have　found　the　tracks　of　the　four　horses　ing　north。
　Hurriedly　he　turned　and　made　his　way　back　to　the　rocks。　As　he　walked；　he　made　plans。　Despite　their　weariness　and　Ben　Hindeman's　condition　they　must　move　on　tonight。　Rarely　would　Apaches　attack　at　night　and　they　preferred　not　even　to　travel　at　night。　The　border　could　not　be　more　than　fifteen　to　twenty　miles　away　and　the　border　was　where　lay　the　ranch　at　San　Bemardino　Springs。
　Maria　Cristina　came　swiftly　to　her　feet　when　she　saw　his　face　and　Jordan　explained；　holding　back　nothing　at　all。
　Hindeman　was　conscious。　〃You　two　take　out；〃　he　said。　〃Small　chance　I'll　make　it；　anyway。〃
　〃You'll　make　it；〃　Jordan　told　him　dryly。　〃You're　too　mean　to　die。〃
　As　soon　as　it　was　dark　they　loaded　up　and　just　before　they　rode　off；　Jordan　built　a　fire　and　stacked　fuel　so　it　would　fall　into　the　flames。　Due　north　then；　holding　a　course　on　the　polestar；　they　rode。　The　desert　was　broken　and　rough　but　they　made　good　time。
　〃Keep　goin'；〃　Hindeman　told　them。　〃Don't　pay　me　no　mind。　If　them　Apaches　get　me　it　won't　matter；　anyway。〃
　So　they　pushed　on　through　the　night　and　in　the　first　gray　of　dawn；　with　the　horses　wearily　plodding；　they　glimpsed　far　off　a　cluster　of　buildings。
　At　the　same　instant　Maria　Cristina　called　out；　〃Trace！〃
　He　turned　in　the　saddle。　Behind　them　and　to　the　east；　not　six　hundred　yards　away；　a　dozen　Indians　sat　their　horses。　They　had　e　out　of　an　arroyo　and　were　apparently　as　surprised　as　Jordan　himself。
　〃Keep　moving；〃　he　told　her。　〃Keep　moving　no　matter　what。〃
　They　rode　on；　holding　their　pace。　Suddenly　the　Indians　began　to　move　out。　Their　ponies　began　to　trot。
　Trace　Jordan　stepped　up　the　pace。　The　buildings　were　not　more　than　five　miles　away　now。　The　Indians　were　very　close　and　ing　up　rapidly。
　Turning；　Trace　Jordan；　lifting　his　Winchester；　took　careful　aim。　He　took　up　the　slack　on　his　trigger；　took　a　deep　breath；　let　part　of　it　out；　then　took　up　more　slack；　then　a　little　…　the　rifle　leaped　in　his　hands　and　a　horse　jumped　and　fell　back；　throwing　his　rider。
　Twice　more　he　fired；　then；　waiting　to　see　the　effectiveness　of　his　shots；　he　raced　after　Maria　Cristina　and　the　litter。
　With　shrill　yells　the　Indians　came　after　him。　Suddenly；　at　the　buildings；　a　rider　appeared　around　the　corner　of　a　barn　and　started　for　them。　Behind　him　came　other　riders　until　seven　were　strung　out；　racing　their　horses。
　Trace　heard　shooting　and；　turning　his　horse；　he　emptied　his　rifle　at　some　two　hundred　yards　distance。　An　Indian　on　a　paint　pony　fell　from　his　horse　and　rolled　over；　got　up；　then　fell　again。　Then　a　horse　shied　violently　at　another　shot　and　the　Indians　slowed　up　and　spread　out。
　Jordan　ran　his　horse　after　the　litter；　feeding　the　shells　into　his　rifle。　When　he　looked　back　again　the　Indians　had　broken　off　their　pursuit　and　turned　away。
　The　riders　from　the　ranch　came　up　and　swung　their　horses　alongside。　Their　leader　was　a　small　square…shouldered　man　with　cold　gray　eyes。
　〃Hindeman！〃　he　said　sharply。　〃Apaches　get　you？〃
　〃No。〃　Ben　Hindeman　indicated　Jordan。　〃He　did。〃
　On　the　second　morning　following　their　arrival　at　Rancho　San　Bernardino；　Trace　Jordan　came　out　into　the　morning　sunlight　and　pulled　on　his　hat。　It　was　very　early　and　John　Slaughter　was　still　at　breakfast。　Ben　Hindeman　was　sleeping　and　apparently　much　improved。
　There　had　been　no　sign　of　the　other　riders　from　the　Sutton…Bayless　outfit。
　Buck　Bayless　and　Wes　Parker　had　not　been　among　those　in　the　fight　at　the　rocks　and　Hindeman　would　say　nothing　about　them。　Yet　something　in　his　manner　made　Jordan　increasingly　restless。
　The　Indian　girl　who　helped　in　the　kitchen　was　throwing　out　some　water。　She　looked　quickly　at　Trace　Jordan　and　started　for　the　house。
　〃Seen　Maria　Cristina？〃　he　asked。
　The　girl　looked　at　him　curiously。　She　shook　the　last　few　drops　from　the　pan。　〃She　gone。　She　gone　maybe　two　hours。〃
　〃What？〃
　〃She　take　horse。　She　say　goodby；　all。　She　ride　away。〃
　〃Where'd　she　go？〃　he　demanded。
　The　girl　shrugged。　〃Where？　I　don't　know。　She　say　nothing。　Just　go。〃
　Swearing；　Trace　ran　for　the　corral。　He　hastily　threw　a　saddle　on　the　big　red　horse　and　stepped　into　the　leather。　Without　a　backward　glance；　he　started　down　the　trail。
　Maria　Cristina　would　go　home；　of　course。　She　had　been　obviously　disturbed　by　the　fact　that　nothing　was　known　of　Buck　Bayless　or　Wes　Parker。　Bayless　she　knew　and　he　did　not　worry　her。　Wes　Parker　was　another　of　the　crowd　who　ran　with　Jack　Sutton　and　Mort　and　the　more　Jordan　thought　of　it；　the　more　reason　he　could　see　for　her　worry。　Yet　it　was　not　that　alone　and　he　knew　it。
　Maria　Cristina　had　carefully　avoided　being　alone　with　him　since　their　arrival　at　Slaughter's。　She　had　evaded　any　chance　of　a　private　talk　without　seeming　to　do　anything　of　the　kind。　Whatever　she　was　thinking　he　did　not　know；　but　obviously　she　did　not　intend　to　share　her　thoughts　with　him。
　Several　times　he　had　caught　her　looking　at　him；　wide…eyed　and　serious；　yet　she　always　looked　away　and　her　manner　had　been　cool。
　The　trail　led　through　Guadalupe　Pass　and　there　was　a　chance　he　could　overtake　her　there。　He　knew　there　was　a　spring　in　the　Pass　itself　or　near　the　opening　of　the　Pass　and　there　were　several　springs　just　north　of　the　Pass　at　different　points。　Beyond　the　Guadalupes　the　country　was　unfamiliar　to　him　except　fo