For it seemed to him there was something forbidding in the sound; it was as though the sounds carried to him on the slight breeze were burdened with an evil portent; that they carried a threat and a warning.

He sat long there, undecided, vacillating. Then he shuddered, wheeled his horse, and sent him scampering over the back trail.

He rode to the Bar D. His men--the regular punchers--were working far down in the basin, and there was no one in the house.

He sat for hours alone in his office, waiting for news of the men he had sent after Sanderson; and as the interval of their absence grew longer the dark forebodings that had a.s.sailed him when within hearing distance of the firing seized him again--grew more depressing, and he sat, gripping the arms of his chair, a clammy perspiration stealing over him.

He shook off the feeling at last, and stood up, scowling.

"That's what a man gets for givin' up to a d.a.m.n fool notion like that,"

he said, thinking of the fear that had seized him while listening to the shooting. "Once a man lets on he's afraid, the thing keeps a workin' on him till he's certain sure he's a coward. Them boys didn't need me, anyway--they'll get Sanderson."

So he justified his lack of courage, and spent some hours reading. But at last the strain grew too great, and as the dusk came on he began to have thoughts of Dal Colton. Ben Nyland must have reached home by this time. Had Colton succeeded?

He thought of riding to Nyland's ranch, but he gave up that idea when he reasoned that perhaps Colton had failed, and in that case Nyland wouldn't be the most gentle person in the world to face on his own property.

If Colton had succeeded he would find him, in Okar. So he mounted his horse and rode to Okar.

The town seemed to be deserted when he dismounted in front of the City Hotel. He did not go inside the building, merely looking in through one of the windows, and seeing a few men in there, playing cards in a listless manner. He did not see Colton.

He looked into several other windows. Colton was nowhere to be seen.

In several places Dale inquired about him. No one had seen Colton that day.

No one said anything to Dale about what had happened. Perhaps they thought he knew. At any rate, Dale heard no word of what had transpired during his absence. Men spoke to him, or nodded--and looked away, to look at him when his back was turned.

All this had its effect on Dale. He noted the restraint, he felt the atmosphere of strangeness. But he blamed it all on the queer premonition that had taken possession of his senses. It was not Okar that looked strange, nor the men, it was himself.

He went to the bank building and entered the rear door, clumping heavily up the stairs, for he felt a heavy depression. When he opened the door at the top of the stairs night had come. A kerosene lamp on a table in the room blinded him for an instant, and he stood, blinking at it.

When his eyes grew accustomed to the glare he saw Peggy Nyland sitting up in bed, looking at him.

She did not say anything, but continued to look at him. There was wonder in her eyes, and Dale saw it. It was wonder over Dale's visit--over his coming to Okar. Ben must have missed him, for Dale was alive! Dale could not have heard what had happened.

"You're better, eh?" said Dale.

She merely nodded her reply, and watched Dale as he crossed the room.

Reaching a door that led into another room, Dale turned.

"Where's Maison?"

Peggy pointed at the door on whose threshold Dale stood.

Dale entered. What he saw in the room caused him to come out again, his face ashen.

"What's happened?" he demanded hoa.r.s.ely, stepping to the side of the bed and looking down at Peggy.

Peggy told him. The man's face grew gray with the great fear that clutched him, and he stepped back; then came forward again, looking keenly at the girl as though he doubted her.

"Nyland killed him--choked him to death?" he said.

Peggy nodded silently. The cringing fear showing in the man's eyes appalled her. She hated him, and he had done this thing to her, but she did not want the stigma of another killing on her brother's name.

"Look here, Dale!" she said. "You'd better get out of here--and out of the country! Okar is all stirred up over what you have done. Sheriff Warde was in Okar and had a talk with Judge Graney. Warde knows who killed those men at Devil's Hole, and he is going to hang them. You are one of them; but you won't hang if Ben catches you. And he is looking for you! You'd better go--and go fast!"

For an instant Dale stood, looking at Peggy, searching her face and probing her eyes for signs that she was lying to him. He saw no such signs. Turning swiftly, he ran down the stairs, out into the street, and mounting, with his horse already running, he fled toward the basin and the Bar D.

He had yielded entirely to the presentiment of evil that had tortured him all day.

All his schemes and plots for the stealing of the Double A and Nyland's ranch were forgotten in the frenzy to escape that had taken possession of him, and he spurred his horse to its best efforts as he ran--away from Okar; as he fled from the vengeance of those forces which his evilness had aroused.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

WINNING A FIGHT

After Sanderson shot the big man who had tried to rush him, there was a silence in the defile. Those of Dale's men who had positions of security held them, not exposing themselves to the deadly fire of Sanderson and the others.

For two hours Sanderson clung to his precarious position in the fissure, until his muscles ached with the strain and his eyes blurred because of the constant vigil. But he grimly held the place, knowing that upon him depended in a large measure the safety of the men on the opposite side of the defile.

The third hour was beginning when Sanderson saw a puff of smoke burst from behind a rock held by one of his men; he heard the crash of a pistol, and saw one of Dale's men flop into view from behind a rock near him.

Sanderson's smile was a tribute to the vigilance of his men. Evidently the Dale man, fearing Sanderson's inaction might mean that he was seeking a new position from where he could pick off more of his enemies, had shifted his own position so no part of his body was exposed to Sanderson.

He had wriggled around too far, and the shot from Sanderson's man had been the result.

The man was not dead; Sanderson could see him writhing. He was badly wounded, too, and Sanderson did not shoot, though he could have finished him.

But the incident drew Sanderson's attention to the possibilities of a new position. He had thought at first that he had climbed as high in the fissure as he dared without exposing himself to the fire of the Dale men; but examining the place again he saw that he might, with exceeding caution, take another position about twenty feet farther on.

He decided to try. Letting himself down until his feet struck a flat rock projection, he rested. Then, the weariness dispersed, he began to climb, shoving his rifle between his body and the cartridge belt around his waist.

It took him half an hour to reach the point he had decided upon, and by that time the sun had gone far down into the hazy western distance, and a glow--saffron and rose and violet--like a gauze curtain slowly descending--warned him that twilight was not far away.

Sanderson determined to finish the battle before the darkness could come to increase the hazard, and when he reached the spot in the fissure he hurriedly took note of the strategical points of the position.

There was not much concealment for his body. He was compelled to lie flat on his stomach to be certain that no portion of his body was exposed; and he found a place in a little depression at the edge of the fissure that seemed suitable. Then he raised his head above the little ridge that concealed him from his enemies.

He saw them all--every man of them. Some of them were crouching; some were lying p.r.o.ne--apparently resting; still others were sitting, their backs against their protection--waiting.

Sanderson took his rifle by the barrel and with the stock forced a channel through some rotted rock on the top of the little ridge that afforded him concealment. When he had dug the channel deeply enough--so that he could aim the weapon without exposing his head--he stuck the rifle barrel into the channel and shouted to the Dale men:

"This game is played out, boys! I'm behind you. You can't hide any longer. I give you fair warning that if you don't come out within a minute, throwin' your guns away an' holdin' up your hands, I'll pick you off, one by one! That goes!"

There was sincerity in Sanderson's voice, but the men doubted.

Sanderson saw them look around, but it was plain to him that they could not tell from which direction his voice came.