There was silence. Fan had finished bandaging the wound. He was studying the area before him. Everybody was out of sight, but that ricochet business could work two ways. It was mostly open country out there, with some scattered trees and a few boulders. It was only an outside chance that he could score a hit, but he could make them nervous.
“Fan, put some grub together,” he said. “There’s some gunny sacks around. Get one of them and fill it with canned goods and whatever isn’t too heavy. Put in a side of bacon and some coffee.”
She did not ask questions, but did what he suggested.
“A canteen,” he added, “and some cartridges.”
“Now see here, Ruble,” came the voice from outside. “We don’t want to kill Miss Davidge. You’re endangering her.”
“You don’t want to kill her? You mean you’re going to rob her and then let her go, to complain about it? I don’t think so, Judge.”
He lifted his rifle and fired three quick shots, each one at a boulder or a rock face behind which he believed the men were hidden. He heard the bullets strike, heard their angry whine. Then he got up and put the shutters in place. There were loopholes that he could fire through if they began to advance.
“You’ve still got a chance to come out,” Niland called “If you don’t, we’ll burn you out.”
Bum them? There was nothing here that would burn but the wind was toward the front of the house and if they dropped burning material off the edge of the rock above, the smoke would come in through cracks and around the windows. Much of it might be kept out,
He made no reply, but turned toward the closet and pulled open the door. “We’ll go this way,” he said.
He helped Fan through the openings, and stood for an instant looking around. Would he ever see this place again? He was desperately weary. The loss of blood, the hot sun, and his long struggle to escape had sapped his strength. Without Fan, he would have stayed where he was and tried to fight it out, but smoke was one thing against which they had no defense.
He followed her through the doors, closing them carefully behind him.
Chapter Fifteen
She trusted him.
Ruble Noon squatted by the shaft and considered that. She had placed her faith in him, and he could not fail her.
From out of nowhere he, a lost man, had found this girl, and from the first moment they had been aware of something in each other that was worth protecting. From the first, their troubles had been theirs together. Somehow, even before his injury, he had felt as if he had been retained to free her from the outlaws who had taken over her ranch.
He could have escaped all this, but because of her he had remained, and now both their lives were in jeopardy. He stared down into the shaft. It seemed a simple way of escape . . . but was it so easy?
They knew of the ranch, they had tried to ambush him there. And even if no one waited for him down there, no horses would be available, and it was a long hike to the little station, part of it across open country. They might be able to arrive in time to catch a train; or they might be trapped in the open before they arrived, or while waiting at the station.
By now the others had probably located the shaft. It was not easy to find, nor under ordinary circumstances would they be likely to recognize it for what it was; but these circumstances were far from ordinary. They would have been trying frantically to find his escape route . . . and there was a good chance they had done so.
That shaft could be a death trap. They might not have men lying in wait at the bottom of the shaft, concealed in the rocks just outside … they might not … but he could not be sure.
It was then that he remembered the dark hole where the ancient steps disappeared.
It was no longer possible to climb up those steps. Rockfalls and erosion had destroyed them, but whoever had laboriously carved those steps in the beginning had not done so just to gratify a whim. Those steps had gone to somewhere, and for some reason.
A secret storage place for gram? It was unlikely. Carrying grain up those small steps in the baskets used by the early people who populated this place would be impossible. However, the place might have been used for certain ceremonies, or as a hiding place in time of danger. Or as an escape route?
He went to the peg driven into the wall where the lanterns were hung and took one down. He shook it-it was half full. Another was nearly empty.
The light was dim here, but near the shaft it was sufficient to see by. He peered into the corner under the lanterns and found what he sought – a can of kerosene, almost full, with a potato stuck over the spout.
He filled both lanterns, then, taking the can and a coil of rope from the wall, he went to the shaft. He handed Fan one of the lanterns. A moment longer he hesitated. He was committing them to a course from which there might be no escape; but without it there would certainly be none.
He motioned to the small platform. “Get on, Fan. It will be crowded, but we can make it.”
She peered down. “Won’t they be waiting for us?” she asked. “I mean … suppose they know of this place?”
“We aren’t going all the way,” he said quietly. “Fan, we’re taking a long gamble. If you want to stay and chance it here, I’ll stay with you.”
“No. I want to be with you . . . wherever you go.”
He lowered them down carefully. The platform was so crowded they could hardly move. When they reached the dark opening of the cave, he stopped and tied the rope. After helping Fan to the ledge at the cave entrance, he lifted off the lanterns and the can of kerosene. Then hoisting himself aloft once more, he loaded the sacks of food and the ammunition onto the platform and went back down. By that time even the cave was filling with smoke.
“Will they find us?” Fan asked.
“I doubt it.” He looked down the shaft once more. He thought he could see a boot track down there he had not seen before, but in the dimness and at that distance he might be mistaken. He turned toward her. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” she said quietly.
Drawing his bowie knife, he slashed through the ropes. The platform hit the bottom with a crash, and dust lifted. The free end of the rope rattled through the block and fell to the bottom of the shaft.
Fan gasped, and clutched his arm. Far below, in the light that came into the lower part of the shaft, lay the platform and the rope. They were cut off now, completely isolated.
Two men rushed into the space below, looking quickly around, and then looking up. From where they stood they could see nothing but the darkness and the empty wheel. He could hear their voices, in astonished argument, but could not distinguish any words.
The lanterns had been set well back away from the shaft, and now they recovered them. Fan took both rifles, and he shouldered the sacks of food, and they went deeper into the cave.
Under their feet lay the dust of centuries. The light of the lanterns threw their grotesque shadows on the walls. The cave was a natural one, but there were no visible signs of habitation.
When they had gone perhaps fifty feet from the shaft they came suddenly into a fairly large room, partially lighted by a crack in the roof high above their heads. Here fires had once been built in a circle of stones.
“A temporary camp,” Ruble Noon said. “I don’t believe these people lived in caves. There’s got to be a way out.”
“Why?”
“I’ve seen villages, probably of these same people, built up on the mesas. I think they liked to live under the open sky. I mean, they built their houses in the open. Back yonder” – he pointed toward the east – “I’ve seen remains of houses, a double line of rooms, not quite square, often definitely rectangular, and always on mesa tops.”
Here it was absolutely still. Fan Davidge looked around the half-lit cave, trying to picture the kind of men they must have been, how they had camped briefly here … or perhaps this had been a ceremonial cave, only visited for some special occasion.
Ruble Noon nudged an ancient ear of corn from the dust with his toe, and picked it up. It had been shelled at some far distant time, but the rows from which the kernels had come were still visible. He counted them … ten rows.