CHAPTER II.
FLAMING FALLS.
Dawn was long in coming; the hours dragged and though Dan Todd nodded he did not sleep with the responsibility of guarding the lodge on his mind. He thought of the girl, too. Beautiful and determined. She might be one who enjoyed Sim Ludwig’s wild lodge parties, but she did not look the type.
The romantic in his make-up again asserted itself and he found himself not only excusing her connection with the case, but actually defending her.
“There must be some way to explain it,” he reasoned. “Still, the job was done with a small weapon—the sort a girl might carry. Oh, well, I’m not a law enforcement officer, so why should I worry. I’ve promised myself a long vacation in town with a trip to California and I’m going to take it. Then I’ll come back and find something to do. I’d prefer some kind of a job that would worry Ludwig!”
It had stopped raining almost as suddenly as it started. The higher ridges, slopes and peaks were covered with a fresh fall of snow, but the lower levels were pouring cold, clear streams of water into the river that was now almost at the flood stage. The air held that wet freshness that only a rain-drenched forest can give. Dan breathed deeply and stepped outside.
The sun had just touched the topmost peak, changing it from white to pink. Dawn came leisurely in the lower levels and Dan’s inspection was as leisurely. The empty shed reminded him of Chinook. The big black was certainly working overtime. He hoped the girl would go easy with him.
Again came the thought, “Who is she?”
His ponderings were broken in on suddenly. Half covered with mud lay a small automatic pistol. He picked the weapon up, washed off the mud which covered the butt and examined the clip. One cartridge had been discharged. There was the same imprint of the golden slipper in the mud near by, as if here she had paused to hurl the weapon away.
He experienced a strong desire to step on the imprint and destroy it. Almost in disgust he growled, “And why should I help some girl who probably went into the mess with her eyes open?”
The sheriff and his deputies arrived several minutes later after a hard ride during which both horses and a logging road-speeder had figured. The official was brief and to the point. Questions asked and answered, he opened the lodge door and looked around. “Any of you boys know him?”
“No,” they answered.
He searched the dead man’s pockets. “Robbery wasn’t the motive. Plenty of money, watch and rings, too. Here’s a card case. John Day Burke. I’ve heard of him, but can’t place him.”
“Connected with Ludwig, wasn’t he?” a deputy suggested. “One of Ludwig’s right-hand men. He usually has several around that’ll take orders. Seems to me—”
But the sheriff was too busy studying the evidence. He did not voice his conclusions, but turning the matter over to the deputy coroner who had accompanied the posse, he directed his attention now at Dan Todd. “What did you find, if anything?”
“This!” He handed the automatic pistol to the official.
“Anything more?” Then, noticing just the slightest hesitation on Todd’s part, he added, “Out with it. Don’t keep anything back, Todd!”
“I’m not! I also found this!” He handed over the gold slipper.
“Where?”
“This side of the ledge in the mud!”
“That’s the way she went, then,” the sheriff announced.
“Don’t be too sure of it, sheriff, Todd suggested. “I later found her unconscious in the rain; packed her to the cabin and put her to bed; went down the trail to telephone you and when I came back, a half hour later, she was gone. She took my horse, Chinook, with her, too!”
“Anything else?”
“Grub and clothes, blankets and pack!”
“All yours?”
“All except the grub and pack.”
“Stick up your hand an I’ll swear you in as a deputy—”
“But I don’t want to be a deputy. I’m on my way to town, sheriff. This case—”
“Makes no difference what you want,” the sheriff retorted. “As a member of the Forest Service you’ve probably sworn in many an unwilling man to fight fire; and properly so. Don’t kick now, Todd!”
“I’m not kicking. I merely tried to avoid it. Now that I can’t I’ll go ahead and see the thing through. What do you want me to do?”
“You know the short cuts and trails better than any man in the posse. Clear out and head the girl off if you can. In the meantime we’ll do what we can! Not wishing to speak ill of the dead, but from what I’ve heard of John Day Burke a pretty girl might well honestly plead self-defense.”
* * * * *
The short cuts Dan Todd knew were no place for a horse. Many of them were game trails, easy enough to follow, but cleared out to the size of a deer. He did not even take grub, except for a pocket filled with hardtack and cheese. “Taking a gun with you, aren’t you?” the sheriff inquired.
“No. I wouldn’t shoot a girl if I never brought her in,” Dan answered.
Twice during the day he cut down to the main trail to see whether Chinook and his fair horse-thief had passed. They had! She was making good time despite the exhausted condition of the animal.
Dan slept in a shelter cabin that night and at dawn headed for Flaming Falls. At this point the trails forked and she might have taken any one of several. If she tackled the mountain pass, Dan could only wish her luck at this season of the year.
He worked down a ridge with the sun. Presently he stopped. Girl hunt or no girl hunt, here was a sight he never missed when in the vicinity. It was the sun striking Flaming Falls. The stream spilled over a ledge nearly a hundred feet high. The last mad rush of water was over a series of cascades so that when it leaped over the brink it was already lashed white. As the sun at certain angles changes a mountain peak to pink, gold and flame, so did the sun for a brief time each morning change the water to pink, deep red that suggested a flaming pillar.
He watched it, entranced as usual, and suddenly above the roar of water came the welcoming whinny of a horse. “Chinook!” he cried, and began to close in.
A new instinct the girl had developed since she was hunted warned her. She gave the surrounding brush and timber a quick, searching look, then, seeing nothing, grew somewhat calmer. But her muscles remained tense. Somehow Dan was reminded of a doe poised for flight.
He stepped into the open, undetermined how to quiet her alarm, when she again looked up. She saw him and without an instant’s hesitation leaped onto a log floating in the pool beyond the falls. A vigorous kick sent it into the current and beyond his reach.
Dan Todd’s face grew deathly pale. He knew what she did not or, if she did, did not appreciate—the series of rapids four miles down. He prayed she wouldn’t remain afloat that long, but would either go ashore or be spilled in safe water.
He ran to the bank and cupped his hands. “Don’t do it!” he shouted. “The rapids! You’ll be drowned! The rapids! Go ashore!”
She was crouching low, and if she heard him, which was doubtful, gave no sign. The jaw he had noticed as she lay unconscious on the bunk was set. She would see it through—regardless. He whistled sharply, and Chinook galloped to him. “You’ve done more than your share, old hoss, but you’ve got to do some more!”
Following a game trail, Dan galloped downstream at top speed. The horse could keep pace with the current in spite of frequent stops where the brush was thick, but it needed more than that to win. A short cut across a bend gave the necessary margin.
Dan glanced upstream. The girl was coming swiftly. He managed to get a log into the water and, with the aid of a long pole, shot out to intercept her. As she bounced by he drove his own pole to the bottom, vaulted and landed on the end of her log. With deft movements of his calked boots Dan steadied the log, then looked at the girl.
She was defiant. “If you come near me I’ll jump,” she threatened. “And—and—I don’t care if I drown!” She presented an interesting picture in his oversized clothing.
“No,” he said firmly, “you’re not going to drown. I won’t let you! If you jump overboard you’ll merely be wet, cold, miserable, and—alive! There are rapids downstream that will tax the skill of the best white water man. I’m a poor one, incidentally. We go ashore here!” Narrowly watching the girl, he sent the log to within a few yards of shore. The remainder of the way was over a series of boulders.
With a tired sigh she dropped to the sand, which at this point was dry, thanks to a brief period of sunshine. “What are you going to do with me, Mr. ——” She looked up at him questioningly.
“Mr. Daniel Todd!”
“Dan Todd? Huh! I’ve heard of you.”
“Evidently nothing to my credit, Miss ——” It was his turn to question.
“Miss Dorothy Lowe!”
“That explains everything,” he grimly observed. “I’ve battled with you by proxy.”
“Yes, and in the end you were whipped. I am familiar with the details of the case. By just what authority did you board my log and set me ashore?”
“By the authority of common sense,” he answered. “But that probably isn’t sufficient grounds for any Lowe, so I’ll add, by the authority of a deputy sheriff arresting a fugitive from justice.”