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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
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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。
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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
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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 s