CHAPTER VIII.

IN THE FATAL CIRCLE.

But Jesse had plans other than to permit the soft-voiced Indian maiden to desert them thus suddenly.

Without a word, with the quickness of a panther he sprang after her leaving the others helpless and surprised at the unexpected action of their chief.

"Has Jess gone plumb bug house?" breathed Tony, scarcely daring to trust his voice.

"Everybody's got wheels in this devil's neighborhood," averred Texas.

"And if he ain't he will have in the hole we're in now," added Homely Harry.

Frank groaned weakly.

"Hey, pard," interrupted Tony, suddenly bethinking himself of their wounded companion, "How you comin' along?"

"Give me a drink," returned the elder James brother in a voice scarcely above a whisper. "I feel as if I was dying."

"Bosh," retorted Tony. "I know them symptoms. You're been loosin' some red juice. Here, take a pull at the flask. It'll put you right in a jiffy."

Frank James gulped down the liquor greedily, so much so that for the instant it nearly strangled him.

"How's that," grinned Tony in the darkness, fetching the flask away and restoring it to his ample hip pocket.

"B--b--better," coughed Frank. "But I'll be bad again in a minute. Where's Jess?"

"Dunno. He vamoosed like a lightning bug. Sloped after the Indian maiden I guess."

"Call him back quick," demanded Frank. "You, Texas. Hurry or I'll bleed to death. I'm bad hurt, I tell you fellows."

Without an instant's hesitation Texas sprang away to do the wounded man's bidding, regardless of any personal danger to himself.

But Texas did not have far to go.

Just without the cave he was grasped in a grip of iron. His hand flew to his belt.

"Stop, you fool! Where are you going!" hissed Jesse in his ear.

"Gad, what a fright you gave me," gasped Texas. "I was going for you. Frank's bad and said you'd got to come right away. Oh there's the girl, eh."

"Bad? Come along Dew Drop," and without further parley Jesse led the way into the cave, keeping tight hold on the Indian girl, who though reluctant, made no protest at being dragged back by the man she had just saved.

"Somebody strike a light," demanded the great bandit.

"No, no," protested Dew Drop with a quick pressure on the outlaw's arm. "Injun smell smoke. Stop um hole up an catch pale face. Jess Jame and other pale faces come with Dew Drop."

"All right go ahead and we'll follow," decided Jesse. "Frank can you walk?"

Frank groaned.

"Pick him up, two of you and follow. Be careful."

Not a word was spoken as the strange procession moved silently on, deeper and deeper into the bowels of the mountain.

The silence was, after what had seemed an age to the men whose nerves were tensed by the strangeness of the cave, broken by the voice of the Indian girl.

"Pale faces git down um bellies," she directed tersely. "Me go first."

Suiting the action to the word Dew Drop threw herself down and crawled through a hole in the rock. But Jesse, who followed, did not succeed in passing the narrow opening with the same ease that Dew Drop had, but he finally accomplished the feat with sundry exclamations of disgust beneath his breath.

Texas, more ample of girth, got stuck in the hole, which he had attempted to get through feet first, and he could not move either way. Jesse solved the difficulty quickly by grabbing the unfortunate outlaw by the feet and jerking him in beside him.

But with Frank the task was still more difficult.

"Easy there," commanded the bandit-chieftain. "Put him through head first and I will draw him in."

This they did, and though Frank groaned and begged piteously the move was quickly executed.

Dew Drop now led the way again, which Jesse observed led slowly upward and that the air was freshening as they proceeded.

At last the Indian maiden came to a quick stop.

"Light um fire," she directed tersely.

It was the work of a moment for Jesse to strike a match and to his intense satisfaction he discovered a pile of dry limbs in one corner of the chamber where they had halted, and a blazing fire was burning quickly.

The men uttered an exclamation of surprise.

What they saw challenged the admiration of every man present.

Millions of brilliant stalactites hung suspended from the domed arch above them, and gave back scintillating flashes from the light of the flames. For the moment they forgot the real purpose of their presence there.

"Diamonds, by Judas," exclaimed Homely Harry in open mouthed wonder.

"Diamonds, your eye," returned Texas. "Them ain't no diamonds. I know the kind, I've seen them before."

But Jesse had given no heed to their expressions of admiration.

Instantly the fire was started, he dropped down by the side of his wounded brother, making a hurried examination of his wounds.

"Give me a piece of lariat," he commanded.

Tony passed over a strip of tough leather. With this the outlaw-chieftain bound the leg just above the wound, administering a drink from his own flask, and turned to Dew Drop.

"Got any saw bones around here?" he demanded sharply. "That's what I brought you back for."

The Indian girl looked at him blankly.

"Pale face medicine man," he explained.

Dew Drop smiled understandingly, but shook her head.

"Two suns journey," she explained, pointing to the north.

"Got a medicine man in your village, then? We've got to have some one here quick and I guess a medicine man of one color is about as good as another."

"Great Bear him got medicine man," explained the girl. "No get medicine man. Great Bear kill white man; Great Bear kill me."

"We'll kill Great Bear; so, that'll be a toss up. You go get the medicine man. Tell him your Indian beau is down in the canyon so badly wounded that he will die and fetch him here."

"Dew Drop fraid," she protested.

"Don't worry, we'll fix him so he won't hurt you. I will follow along behind you to see that no harm comes to you. Two of you men go outside the cave after a while and hide there and when Dew Drop brings the man you jump on him, and carry him in--"

"No, no," answered the maiden hurriedly, "me put out um medicine man eyes."

"Put out his eyes?" demanded Jesse in surprise.

"So," drawing her hand across her eyes and to the back of her head.

"Oh, I see: you mean to blindfold him? But how are you going to do it?"

"Me tell um take um cave of Great Spirit and must not see."

The others gazed at the girl blankly. Jesse haw-hawed loudly.

"Well, you are a wise little savage. I guess Jesse James and his band had better hang around here a while and take some lessons from you. What do you say, boys? Dew Drop ain't near so soft as her name, is she now?"

"She ain't that," they chorused.

"Oh hurry up," urged Frank.

With that, Jesse and the girl quickly made their way out of the cave. Once outside he gave the girl explicit directions, and without further delay she sped away, quickly disappearing amid the foliage without so much as betraying her movements by the snapping of a dry twig.

"A snake couldn't get away any quieter than that," nodded Jesse approvingly, and after a keen survey of rock and wood he too slipped away in the direction that Dew Drop had taken.

Not quite sure of his way, Jesse cautiously mounted a rock and, shading his eyes from the setting sun, peered off to the north.

He found what he was looking for, and, dropping from his perch once more took up his cautious way toward the Indian village. That he was going toward what would prove certain death, should any watchful, sneaking redskin chance to discover him or even come upon his trail, did not trouble the great bandit in the least.

His brother's life was at stake and that there might be no slip up he would follow clear to the Indian village, if necessary.

"I'll bring back the medicine man dead or alive," he swore under his breath.

Twilight was deepening and Jesse went more boldly on. But he had made a fatal move. He had done a thing that he would not have done had his band of hardy outlaws been with him, for then Jesse's sense of responsibility would have been doubly heavy.

He might expose his own life to peril unnecessarily. But for his companions, no. He took no more chances than was necessary where they were concerned.

During the brief moment that he had stood poised on the rock, however, the field glass of a United States Cavalry officer chanced to be trained on that very spot. More than that the pair of eyes behind the glass, also chanced to belong to the very officer with whom the band had mixed it up earlier.

The Captain uttered an exclamation of surprise.

"Quick! mount!" he commanded. "Not a word as you value your lives."

Trained to instant obedience, the troopers sprang into their saddles. They did not know what the order portended, nor did they care. The Captains manner meant that there was excitement ahead and that a brush with the red skins was more than likely at no distant moment.

"Red skins?" asked the young Lieutenant, in a low voice, riding up beside his superior officer.

"Worse," was his laconic reply. "James, and he was alone when I saw him. I think he is out reconnoitering. We'll bag him this time I hope."

"That ought to be easy if he is alone," returned the Lieutenant.

"Humph," snorted the Captain. "You'll learn more as you grow older. I'd rather hunt savages than those Missouri outlaws, for when it comes to devilish tricks, the Missourians can give the Indians points blindfolded.

"Halt! Dismount!

"Tether your ponies."

"Where away?" asked the Lieutenant softly.

"To the north. He should be near us providing he has not changed his course and I don't think he has, for very good reasons too."

"Why, Captain."

"Because, young man, on one side is an Indian village full of savages thirsting for his blood, and on the other a sheer precipice dropping down a few hundred feet only. We are on the third side, and, unless he turns back there is only one course open for him--to run into us.

"Throw your men out into a circle. Conceal them behind boulders. We should get him in the circle that way, and once there I don't think he will get away.

"Catch him alive if you can. Kill him if you have to."

Silence again fell over the night.

The troopers trained to tread on velvet feet, slipped along like so many silent shadows.

But every first right finger trembled on a trigger.

They knew the man they had to deal with, and the mere click of a gunlock on their part might mean instant death at the hand of the great bandit.

They lay down.

Each tree and rock beyond seemed to hold a lurking shadow, so tensely strained were their nerves and vivid their imaginations.

A twig snapped among the trees in the dense shadows. But not a man stirred. For long minutes they waited there, scarcely drawing a free breath.

The men needed no orders from their captain, no imposition for silent caution. They were trained too finely in Indian warfare to need such injunctions.

If indeed it were the great outlaw himself who stood under the spreading trees whence had come the warning sound, they knew he would not move for some time. Not until he had waited the effect of his incautious step would he move a muscle of his body, and perhaps he would be standing with one foot poised in the air, every sense keenly alert, his eyes piercing the shadows with almost superhuman vision.

To such extremes are men's senses trained, who live in momentary expectation of the blinding crash and the bullet between the eyes.

The troopers heard no further sound.

Their eyes suddenly began to blink. They could scarcely credit what they saw.

Right in the middle of the moonlit space, as if he had risen from the ground, stood the great outlaw himself.

How he had come there without their observing him, was beyond their understanding.

He was standing behind a large boulder, hat tipped back, his features plainly outlined in the brilliant moonlight, nose and face tipped upward as if scenting danger in the air.

Twenty trigger fingers twitched nervously, and as many Winchesters swung silently until they focused on the figure no more than twenty paces distant.

The great desperado poised there like a statue, hands and arms hanging listlessly at his sides, guns in their holsters as if there was no expectation of their being needed for instant use.

But this did not deceive Uncle Sam's Indian fighters. They were too familiar with Jesse James' reputation for quickness on the trigger not to understand that the mere glint of a moonbeam along a rifle barrel would mean death to the soldier behind it almost before he could pull his own trigger.

Like a blow in the face came the sudden command:

"Put up your hands, Jesse James!"

"Crash!"

Both the desperadoe's "Colts" spoke in a single explosion, and the Captain yelled with pain as a bullet tore through one arm.

"Give it to him!" he roared.

"Fire in a volley."

The roar of the heavy Winchesters sent the leaves of the trees a rustling and even the rocks and earth catching up the note, responded with a tremor.

Dimly they could see the figure of the outlaw stretched out on the ground in the shadow of the boulder after the smoke had drifted away.