CHAPTER XVIII.

THE LOVERS QUEST.

“I’ll tell ye how it was, Mister Reade,” cried bluff Harmon; the vigilant, as he came us. “Ye see the gal took big chances. Thar’s a spring in that bit av bushes there an’ she went over to git a drink of water. Nobody has seen her since.”

“Have you made a good search?” asked Frank, sharply.

“An all fired good one.”

“But how do you know that Cliff’s gang have got her?”

“Because we know that it could not be Injuns, for the ground was marked with prints of the cowboys’ shoes.”

Frank received this information with sinking heart.

He knew that it must be too true that Bessie Rodman had again fallen into the hands of Cliff.

It was a dismaying reflection.

To effect her rescue would prove no easy task.

Just how to go to work to do it was a problem to Frank.

But he was not long in deciding upon a plan of action.

Meanwhile young Barrows, desperate over the thought that his girl love was once more in Cliff’s power, had made a daring move.

Alone he rode away into the hills.

He was determined to rescue Bessie or sacrifice his life in the attempt.

Barrows was a youth of rare pluck and great determination.

In this quest he was aided by his blind love for Bessie Rodman. For her he would gladly give up his life.

Striking into the hills he sought to follow the trail of the abductors.

But it was soon lost in the flinty ground, and his best efforts to recover it were in vain.

However, he kept on with feverish resolution. It was now a blind quest, but this did not deter him in the least.

Soon Barrows had penetrated deep into the hills.

He heard the distant sounds of firing and knew that the soldiers and Cliff’s men were yet having it out.

“God give me strength to rescue Bessie Rodman!” he prayed, as he rode on.

It had occurred to Barrows that the young girl might have been taken to Ranch V by her captors.

He had half made up his mind to proceed thither when a thrilling thing occurred.

Suddenly the sharp crack of a rifle smote upon the air.

Barrows reeled in the saddle and his horse gave a plunge.

A line of red blood trickled down over his face. The bullet had grazed his cheek bone.

It was a narrow escape.

The fraction of an inch in another direction, and the bullet might have penetrated his brain.

Young Barrows had faced danger and death times enough to know quite well what to do.

He instantly dropped from his horse and spoke a word of command to the animal.

The faithful and well-trained steed wheeled and galloped away into the cover of timber near.

Barrows himself sank down behind a pile of rocks.

All this was done in the twinkling of an eye.

The trained westerner whose life is in danger knows well the value of quick action.

It was this which saved the life of Barrows, for half a dozen bullets came whistling down the mountain side the next moment.

He had run unconsciously upon his foes. He experienced a thrill as it occurred to him that this was most likely the party who had Bessie Rodman in their charge.

“Heaven help me now!” he muttered, fervently. “I must save her or die!”

From his position he could safely scrutinize the mountain side.

He saw that far up on its side there was a rude cabin made of bark and logs.

From this the storm of bullets had come.

Nothing could be seen of those within the cabin.

But Barrows believed that not only was the foe within, but also Bessie Rodman.

He was somewhat at a loss now to know just what move to make.

To advance openly to the attack would have been an act of folly.

He would certainly have met his death in a summary fashion.

So while pondering on the subject he continued to watch the cabin windows.

He held his rifle in readiness for instant use.

Suddenly a face appeared for an instant at one of the windows.

It was quickly withdrawn, and Barrows had not time to fire. He recognized it, however, as the face of one of the outlaws.

The young plainsman’s nerves were steel, and he watched his chance again with nervous anxiety.

Suddenly the opportunity came. Once more the face appeared.

Barrows raised his rifle quick as thought.

Crack!

A wild cry went up, the sound of a falling body was heard, and then the tramping of feet and bitter curses.

Barrows knew that his shot had taken effect.

Then he changed his position. But not a sound or a sign of life came from the mysterious cabin.

“If they are in the cabin they are keeping mighty dark,” he muttered. “They surely must be there, for I have not seen them come out as yet.”

A great length of time had elapsed.

Certainly an hour and a half of waiting had passed, and Barrows felt that he must do something and at once.

“I shall die of worriment if I stay here,” he muttered. “Perhaps——”

He paused. A thrilling thought had struck him.

It was more than likely that he had been waiting all this while for nothing.

It would have been not by any means a difficult matter for the foe to have slipped out by a rear exit, and by this time be far from the spot.

But how was he to determine this fact.

It could only be done by approaching the hut boldly and searching it.

To do this was to incur the risk of a bullet from the outlaws.

This might be only a clever trick of theirs to draw him from his covert.

All these thoughts passed kaleidoscope-like through Barrow’s brain.

He was satisfied that the foe could be but a half dozen in number.

If he could have kept up a desultory battle with them in his present position he believed that he could have picked off a number of them, and thus reducing their numbers eventually bring the fight to a focus with a fair chance of winning.

But the outlook now was by no means so prepossessing.

It was more than likely that he would have great difficulty in cutting off the abductors before they should join the main body of the cowboys.

In this case it would be more difficult to rescue Bessie Rodman.

Barrows now realized his folly in starting out single handed to pursue the abductors.

If he had now several of his companions with him the hut could have been surrounded and there would have been little trouble in making the rescue.

But time was speeding and something had got to be done at once.

Barrows proceeded to act.

He began to cautiously climb up the mountain side keeping in the cover of rocks and trees.

He was very careful not to expose himself to a shot and in this way had soon reached a point from which he believed he could see the rear end of the cabin.

There it stood lonely and silent.

“Was it really deserted or were the foe yet within its walls?”

To all appearances it was deserted.

Barrows hesitated a moment and then took the desperate chance.

He emerged boldly from the woods and approached the cabin.

On he went until within ten yards of the door. Yet there was no sign of life.

The next moment he reached the door.

It yielded to his touch and he entered. The place was deserted.

There were evidences that the foe had been there.

Also Barrows made a thrilling discovery. In the soft dirt of the floor he discovered the footprints of Bessie Rodman.

At least it was safe to presume that they were hers, for there was no likelihood that the region for many miles held another of her gentle sex.

Feverishly Barrows examined the trail and followed it out through a rear door of the cabin.

It led into a narrow gulch and up the mountain.

It was quickly lost in the gravelly soil, but Barrows kept on up the mountain.

He now censured himself for not having acted with greater dispatch.

He believed that had he changed his position earlier he would have become aware sooner of the change of base of the abductors.

This was undoubtedly true, but on the other hand there had been the great risk of exposure to a bullet.

On the whole the lover felt that he had reason to be grateful for his success in so promptly striking the trail of the foe.

He kept on up the mountain with increasing hopes.

If he could once more overtake the abductors under more favorable circumstances he believed that he could effect the rescue of Bessie Rodman.

He still kept on up the mountain.

Then he suddenly halted at a point from which he had a good view of the country about.

He looked down upon a level plain below some distance which was fringed with trees.

In the verge of this timber line Barrows saw a number of moving figures.

He was satisfied that they were the party of abductors and he even fancied he could see the form of Bessie Rodman.

With deadly resolution Barrows started in pursuit.

Down the mountain he went and soon reached the level of the plain.

The party was now out of sight but Barrows believed that he could overtake them.

So he set out at a rapid pace along the verge of the timber. Exciting experiences were in store for him.