The Skyland post. [volume] (West Jefferson, N.C.) 193?-1988, 1937-05-06

that may beat them yet"
'How so?"
'Thev've got to double back, low
err downstream to strike Deep Creek
again with the cattle. Well play it
so, anyway. It's into the brush for
us. We can't cross the horses here.
If I'm wrong, and they're above us
yet, it's safer to stick to this side,
, anyway"
"Where can they strike the
creek?"
about a mile above the old
bridge"
''How we goin' to get to them?"
"We've got to cross that bridge"
Scott smiled a sickly smile. "That
bridges been fallin' to pieces for ten
years."
"John," said Denison to Frying
Pan, 'feel out the scrub for us.
Let's go!"
The riding was rough and the
pace through the chaparral Cruel
ing. The four men reach a point
where the creek bottom opened
from canyon out on low, rough
country, and the rising moon shed
more light.
"We're a mile yet above the
bridge" said Denison. "You and
John ride up the canyon wall
ways, Bob, and take another look"
he suggested.
The Indians came back with news.
''There's somethin' looks like what's
left of a campfire near the bridge"
"Push on!' exclaimed Denison.
They may have halted there"
The riding grew worse. Thickets
became almost impossible. There
never had been a trail down the
west bank, and the job called for
logged endurance.
Scratched and torn, the four
reached an open breathing space
where rock and shale ended the
fight through the scrub. The moon,
clearing the mountain peaks, re-
vealed, at a distance below, the
abandoned bridge. Not far from it,
Denison could discern embers of the
campfire Frying Pan had reported.
"Where there's been fire, there's
been men," said Denison. ''They may
5e there yet. But we've got to watch
both sides of the creek. Suppose you,
Bob and Frying Pan get over to the
east bank"
''How?"
| "How?"
''The bridge"
Scott grinned but shook his head.
''There's ten feet of plankin' gone
in one place from the floor of the
old bridge. Nobody can cross that.
We could maybe crawl across in the
daytime-not now"
"We've got to get across some
how" insisted Denison. Bob, is
there any place up or down the
creek where you and John can get
over?"
mot with horses"
well, we must stop the cattle and
whoever's with 'em. I'll get over.
somehow, after you. Where's the
planking off the bridge?"
''The east end"
''That's bad No matter-dust
along Two shots from you will
bring me over Anyway, you stop
anybody that comes along with the
beef. Well leave the horse here with
Pardaloe, and while you're getting
over I'll try to find out who these
fellow are below at the fire. Bill, -
e turned to Pardaloe-''if 1 need
you, I'll whistle"
80. H." assented the lanky Par
daloe.
Denison, though anxious to get at
what lay ahead of him, was forced
to work down the slope slowly.
Within a long earshot of the dying
fire, he thought he heard voices.
Since the men were still there, re-
newed caution was called for.
He made out two voices.
Flattening on the sand, he listen
ed. The fire and the men were not
over fifty feet away. Denison could
hear their words. They were talking
English, though one voice was gut
tural and revealed a Mexican. AS
they were obviously waiting for
someone who had failed to appear,
cold, and too lazy to keep up their
fire, Denison made no boners about
intruding on the pair.
The first the two men heard from
him was a low but plain command:
"Pitch up, boys!"
The startled pair jumped to their
feet. CUP! Put 'em up" came a
sharper order. Their hands went
haltingly up. They looked around
to see where the voice came from,
and while they looked they heard a
short whistle and saw man emerge
from the chaparral not twenty feet