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clutch Jed's shoulder； nearly pulling the foreman from his pony。
〃You lie！〃 he cried。 〃You're lying to me！ It ain't SO！〃
Parker made no effort to extricate himself from the painful
grasp。 His cool eyes met the blazing eyes of his chief。
〃I wisht I did lie； Buck；〃 he said sadly。 〃I wisht it wasn't so。
But it is。〃
Johnson's head snapped back to the front with a groan。 The pony
snorted as the steel bit his flanks； leaped forward； and with
head outstretched； nostrils wide； the wicked white of the bronco
flickering in the corner of his eye； struck the bee line for the
home ranch。 Jed followed as fast as he was able。
On his arrival he found his chief raging about the house like a
wild beast。 Sang trembled from a quick and stormy interrogatory
in the kitchen。 Chairs had been upset and let lie。 Estrella's
belongings had been tumbled over。 Senor Johnson there found only
too sure proof； in the various lacks； of a premeditated and
permanent flight。 Still he hoped； and as long as he hoped； he
doubted； and the demons of doubt tore him to a frenzy。 Jed stood
near the door； his arms folded； his weight shifted to his sound
foot； waiting and wondering what the next move was to be。
Finally； Senor Johnson； struck with a new idea； ran to his desk
to rummage in a pigeon…hole。 But he found no need to do so； for
lying on the desk was what he soughtthe check book from which
Estrella was to draw on Goodrich for the money she might need。
He fairly snatched it open。 Two of the checks had been torn out；
stub and all。 And then his eye caught a crumpled bit of blue
paper under the edge of the desk。
He smoothed it out。 The check was made out to bearer and signed
Estrella Johnson。 It called for fifteen thousand dollars。
Across the middle was a great ink blot； reason for its rejection。
At once Senor Johnson became singularly and dangerously cool。
〃I reckon you're right； Jed；〃 he cried in his natural voice。
〃she's gone with him。 She's got all her traps with her； and
she's drawn on Goodrich for fifteen thousand。 And SHE never
thought of going just this time of month when the miners are in
with their dust； and Goodrich would be sure to have that much。
That's friend Palmer。 Been going on a month； you say？〃
〃I couldn't say anything； Buck；〃 said Parker anxiously。 〃A man's
never sure enough about them things till afterwards。〃
〃I know；〃 agreed Buck Johnson； 〃give me a light for my
cigarette。〃
He puffed for a moment； then rose； stretching his legs。 In a
moment he returned from the other room； the old shiny Colt's
forty…five strapped loosely on his hip。 Jed looked him in the
face with some anxiety。 The foreman was not deceived by the
man's easy manner； in fact； he knew it to be symptomatic of one
of the dangerous phases of Senor Johnson's character。
〃What's up； Buck？〃 he inquired。
〃Just going out for a pasear with the little horse； Jed。〃
〃I suppose I better come along？〃
〃Not with your lame foot； Jed。〃
The tone of voice was conclusive。 Jed cleared his throat。
〃She left this for you；〃 said he； proffering an envelope。 〃Them
kind always writes。〃
〃Sure；〃 agreed Senor Johnson； stuffing the letter carelessly into
his side pocket。 He half drew the Colt's from its holster and
slipped it back again。 〃Makes you feel plumb like a man to have
one of these things rubbin' against you again；〃 he observed
irrelevantly。 Then he went out； leaving the foreman leaning；
chair tilted； against the wall。
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THE CAPTURE
Although he had left the room so suddenly； Senor Johnson did not
at once open the gate of the adobe wall。 His demeanour was gay；
for he was a Westerner； but his heart was black。 Hardly did he
see beyond the convexity of his eyeballs。
The pony； warmed up by its little run； pawed the ground；
impatient to be off。 It was a fine animal； clean…built；
deep…chested； one of the mustang stock descended from the Arabs
brought over by Pizarro。 Sang watched fearfully from the slant
of the kitchen window。 Jed Parker； even； listened for the beat
of the horse's hoofs。
But Senor Johnson stood stock…still； his brain absolutely numb
and empty。 His hand brushed against something which fell； to the
ground。 He brought his dull gaze to bear on it。 The object
proved to be a black； wrinkled spheroid； baked hard as iron in
the sunshine of Estrella's toys； a potato squeezed to dryness by
the constricting power of the rawhide。 In a row along the fence
were others。 To Senor Johnson it seemed that thus his heart was
being squeezed in the fire of suffering。
But the slight movement of the falling object roused him。 He
swung open the gate。 The pony bowed his head delightedly。 He
was not tired； but his reins depended straight to the ground； and
it was a point of honour with him to stand。 At the saddle born；
in its sling； hung the riata； the 〃rope〃 without which no cowman
ever stirs abroad； but which Senor Johnson had rarely used of
late。 Senor Johnson threw the reins over； seized the pony's mane
in his left hand； held the pommel with his right； and so swung
easily aboard； the pony's jump helping him to the saddle。 Wheel
tracks led down the trail。 He followed them。
Truth to tell； Senor Johnson had very little idea of what he was
going to do。 His action was entirely instinctive。 The wheel
tracks held to the southwest so he held to the southwest； too。
The pony hit his stride。 The miles slipped by。 After seven of
them the animal slowed to a walk。 Senor Johnson allowed him to
get his wind； then spurred him on again。 He did not even take
the ordinary precautions of a pursuer。 He did not even glance to
the horizon in search。
About supper…time he came to the first ranch house。 There he
took a bite to eat and exchanged his horse for another； a
favourite of his； named Button。 The two men asked no questions。
〃See Mrs。 Johnson go through？〃 asked the Senor from the saddle。
〃Yes； about three o'clock。 Brent Palmer driving her。 Bound for
Willets to visit the preacher's wife； she said。 Ought to catch
up at the Circle I。 That's where they'd all spend the night； of
course。 So long。〃
Senor Johnson knew now the couple would follow the straight road。
They would fear no pursuit。 He himself was supposed not to
return for a week； and the story of visiting the minister's wife
was not only plausible； it was natural。 Jed had upset
calculations； because Jed was shrewd； and had eyes in his head。
Buck Johnson's first mental numbness was wearing away； he was
beginning to think。
The night was very still and very dark； the stars very bright in
their candle…like glow。 The man； loping steadily on through the
darkness； recalled that other night； equally still； equally dark；
equally starry； when he had driven out from his accustomed life
into the unknown with a woman by his side； the sight of whom
asleep had made him feel 〃almost holy。〃 He uttered a short
laugh。
The pony was a good one； well equal to twice the distance he
would be called upon to cover this night。 Senor Johnson managed
him well。 By long experience and a natural instinct he knew just
how hard to push his mount； just how to keep inside the point
where too rapid exhaustion of vitality begins。
Toward the hour of sunrise he drew rein to look about him。 The
desert； till now wrapped in the thousand little noises that make
night silence； drew breath in preparation for the awe of the
daily wonder。 It lay across the world heavy as a sea of lead；
and as lifeless； deeply unconscious； like an exhausted sleeper。
The sky bent above； the stars paling。 Far away the mountains
seemed to wait。 And then； imperceptibly； those in the east
became blacker and sharper； while those in the west became
faintly lucent and lost the distinctness of their outline。 The
change was nothing； yet everything。 And suddenly a desert bird
sprang into the air and began to sing。
Senor Johnson caught the wonder of it。 The wonder of it seemed
to him wasted； useless； cruel in its effect。 He sighed
impatiently； and drew his hand across his eyes。
The desert became grey with the first light before the glory。 In
the illusory revealment of it Senor Johnson's sharp
frontiersman's eyes made out an object moving away from him in
the middle distance。 In a moment the object rose for a second
against the sky line； then disappeared。 He knew it to be the
buckboard； and that the vehicle had just plunged into the dry bed
of an arroyo。
Immediately life surged through him like an electric shock。 He
unfastened the riata from its sling； shook loose the noose； and
moved forward in the direction in which he had last seen the
buckboard。