Trevison laughed lowly, with a grim humor that made Levins look sharply at him. "That abandoned pueblo on the creek near your shack is built like a fortress, Levins."

"What in h.e.l.l has this job got to do with that dobie pile?" questioned the other.

"Plenty. Oh, you're curious, now. But I'm going to keep you guessing for a day or two."

"You'll go loco--give you time," scoffed Levins.

"Somebody else will go crazy when this stuff lets go," laughed Trevison, tapping his pockets.

Levins snickered. They trailed the reins over the heads of their horses, and walked swiftly toward the corrugated iron building. Halting in the shadow of it, they held a hurried conference, and then separated, Trevison going toward the engine, already set up, with its flimsy roof covering it, and working around it for a few minutes, then darting from it to a small building filled with tools and stores, and to a pile of machinery and supplies stacked against the wall of the b.u.t.te. They worked rapidly, elusive as shadows in the deep gloom of the wall of the b.u.t.te, and when their work was completed they met in the full glare of the moonlight near the corrugated iron building and whispered again.

Lashing her horse over a strange trail, Rosalind Benham came to a thicket of gnarled fir-balsam and scrub oak that barred her way completely. She had ridden hard and her horse breathed heavily during the short time she spent looking about her. Her own breath was coming sharply, sobbing in her throat, but it was more from excitement than from the hazard and labor of the ride, for she had paid little attention to the trail, beyond giving the horse direction, trusting to the animal's wisdom, accepting the risks as a matter-of-course. It was the imminence of violence that had aroused her, the portent of a lawless deed that might result in tragedy. She had told Mrs. Levins that she was doing this thing for _her_ sake, but she knew better. She _did_ consider the woman, but she realized that her dominating pa.s.sion was for the grim-faced young man who, discouraged, driven to desperation by the force of circ.u.mstances--just or not--was fighting for what he considered were his rights--the acc.u.mulated results of ten years of exile and work. She wanted to save him from this deed, from the results of it, even though there was nothing but condemnation in her heart for him because of it.

"To the left of the thicket is a slope," Mrs. Levins had told her. She stopped only long enough to get her bearings, and at her panting, "Go!"

the horse leaped. They were at the crest of the slope quickly, facing the bottom, yawning, deep, dark. She shut her eyes as the horse took it, leaning back to keep from falling over the animal's head, holding tightly to the pommel of the saddle. They got down, someway, and when she felt the level under them she lashed the horse again, and urged him around a shoulder of the precipitous wall that loomed above her, frowning and somber.

She heard a horse whinny as she flashed past the shoulder, her own beast tearing over the level with great catlike leaps, but she did not look back, straining her eyes to peer into the darkness along the wall of the b.u.t.te for sight of the buildings and machinery.

She saw them soon after pa.s.sing the shoulder, and exclaimed her thanks sharply.

"All set," said one of the shadowy figures near the corrugated iron building. A match flared, was applied to a stick of punk in the hands of each man, and again they separated, each running, applying the glowing wand here and there.

Trevison's work took him longest, and when he leaped from the side of a mound of supplies Levins was already running back toward the shoulder where they had left their horses. They joined, then split apart, their weapons leaping into their hands, for they heard the rapid drumming of horse's hoofs.

"They're coming!" panted Trevison, his jaws setting as he plunged on toward the shoulder of the b.u.t.te. "Run low and duck at the flash of their guns!" he warned Levins.

A wide swoop brought the oncoming horse around the shoulder of the b.u.t.te into full view. As the moonlight shone, momentarily, on the rider, Trevison cried out, hoa.r.s.ely:

"G.o.d, it's a woman!"

He leaped, at the words, out of the shadow of the b.u.t.te into the moonlight of the level, straight into the path of the running horse, which at sight of him slid, reared and came to a halt, snorting and trembling. Trevison had recognized the girl; he flung himself at the horse, muttering: "Dynamite!" seized the beast by the bridle, forced its head around despite the girl's objections and incoherent pleadings--some phrases of which sank home, but were disregarded.

"Don't!" she cried, fiercely, as he struck the animal with his fist to accelerate its movements. She was still crying to him, wildly, hysterically, as he got the animal's head around and slapped it sharply on the hip, his pistol crashing at its heels.

The frightened animal clattered over the back trail, Trevison running after it. He reached n.i.g.g.e.r, flung himself into the saddle, and raced after Levins, who was already far down the level, following Rosalind's horse. At a turn in the b.u.t.te he came upon them both, their horses halted, the girl berating Levins, the man laughing lowly at her.

"Don't!" she cried to Trevison as he rode up. "Please, Trevison--don't let _that_ happen! It's criminal; it's outlawry!"

"Too late," he said grimly, and rode close to her to grasp the bridle of her horse. Standing thus, they waited--an age, to the girl, in reality only a few seconds. Then the deep, solemn silence of the night was split by a hollow roar, which echoed and re-echoed as though a thousand thunder storms had centered over their heads. A vivid flash, extended, effulgent, lit the sky, the earth rocked, the canyon walls towering above them seemed to sway and reel drunkenly. The girl covered her face with her hands.

Another blast smote the night, reverberating on the heels of the other; there followed another and another, so quickly that they blended; then another, with a distinct interval between. Then a breathless, unreal calm, through which distant echoes rumbled; then a dead silence, shattered at last by a heavy, distant clatter, as though myriad big hailstones were falling on a pavement. And then another silence--the period of reeling calm after an earthquake.

"O G.o.d!" wailed the girl; "it is horrible!"

"You've got to get out of here--the whole of Manti will be here in a few minutes! Come on!"

He urged n.i.g.g.e.r farther down the canyon, and up a rocky slope that brought them to the mesa. The girl was trembling, her breath coming gaspingly. He faced her as they came to a halt, pityingly, with a certain dogged resignation in his eyes.

"What brought you here? Who told you we were here?" he asked, gruffly.

"It doesn't matter!" She faced him defiantly. "You have outraged the laws of your country tonight! I hope you are punished for it!"

He laughed, derisively. "Well, you've seen; you know. Go and inform your friends. What I have done I did after long deliberation in which I considered fully the consequences to myself. Levins wasn't concerned in it, so you don't need to mention his name. Your ranch is in that direction, Miss Benham." He pointed southeastward, n.i.g.g.e.r lunged, caught his stride in two or three jumps, and fled toward the southwest. His rider did not hear the girl's voice; it was drowned in clatter of hoofs as he and Levins rode.

CHAPTER XXI

ANOTHER WOMAN RIDES

Trevison rode in to town the next morning. On his way he went to the edge of the b.u.t.te overlooking the level, and looked down upon the wreck and ruin he had caused. Ma.s.ses of twisted steel and iron met his gaze; the level was littered with debris, which a gang of men under Carson was engaged in clearing away; a great section of the b.u.t.te had been blasted out, earth, rocks, sand, had slid down upon much of the wreckage, partly burying it. The utter havoc of the scene brought a fugitive smile to his lips.

He saw Carson waving a hand to him, and he answered the greeting, noting as he did so that Corrigan stood at a little distance behind Carson, watching. Trevison did not give him a second look, wheeling n.i.g.g.e.r and sending him toward Manti at a slow lope. As he rode away, Corrigan called to Carson.

"Your friend didn't seem to be much surprised."

Carson turned, making a grimace while his back was yet toward Corrigan, but grinning broadly when he faced around.

"Didn't he now? I wasn't noticin'. But, begorra, how c'ud he be surprised, whin the whole domned country was rocked out av its bed be the blast! Wud ye be expictin' him to fall over in a faint on beholdin' the wreck?"

"Not he," said Corrigan, coldly; "he's got too much nerve for that."

"Ain't he, now!" Carson looked guilelessly at the other. "Wud ye be havin'

anny idee who done it?"

Corrigan's eyes narrowed. "No," he said shortly, and turned away.

Trevison's appearance in Manti created a stir. He had achieved a double result by his deed, for besides destroying the property and making it impossible for Corrigan to resume work for a considerable time, he had caused Manti's interest to center upon him sharply, having shocked into the town's consciousness a conception of the desperate battle that was being waged at its doors. For Manti had viewed the devastated b.u.t.te early that morning, and had come away, seething with curiosity to get a glimpse of the man whom everybody secretly suspected of being the cause of it.

Many residents of the town had known Trevison before--in half an hour after his arrival he was known to all. Public opinion was heavily in his favor and many approving comments were heard.

"I ain't blamin' him a heap," said a man in the _Belmont_. "If things is as you say they are, there ain't much more that a _man_ could do!"

"The laws is made for the guys with the coin an' the pull," said another, vindictively.

"An' dynamite ain't carin' who's usin' it," said another, slyly. Both grinned. The universal sympathy for the "under dog" oppressed by Justice perverted or controlled, had here found expression.

It was so all over Manti. Admiring glances followed Trevison; though he said no word concerning the incident; nor could any man have said, judging from the expression of his face, that he was elated. He had business in Manti--he completed it, and when he was ready to go he got on n.i.g.g.e.r and loped out of town.

"That man's nerve is as cold as a naked Eskimo at the North Pole,"

commented an admirer. "If I'd done a thing like that I'd be layin' low to see if any evidence would turn up against me."

"I reckon there ain't a heap of evidence," laughed his neighbor. "I expect everybody knows he done it, but knowin' an' provin' is two different things."

A mile out of town Trevison met Corrigan. The latter halted his horse when he saw Trevison and waited for him to come up. The big man's face wore an ugly, significant grin.