The Ferguson Rifle

The bullet took the first man high in the chest.

Ebitt was a dozen feet to my right, and at the crack of the dead branch, he dove into the brush.

Isaac, only an instant behind me, fired also.

It was point-blank range and I believe they had not seen us for they were slow in returning our fire. Isaac went into the trees only a step behind me, and the crack of Ebitt's rifle from the brush caused another man to reel and fall. He scrambled up and ran, however, injured but not seriously. But our fire made them all take to the brush.

Once under cover, we scrambled to find the cave, which must be within a few yards of us. Oddly enough we passed its opening several times before we saw it, and then it was Isaac who glimpsed it first.

One after another we crawled in. The opening was large enough for one man only, and nobody was going to try to enter there with armed men waiting inside. That would not preclude them firing into the cave, however.

We looked around, straining our eyes against the gloom. The rear wall of the cavern was no more than thirty feet from the opening, but there was a wide gap to the left and several openings led off from it.

Ebitt crouched, studying the sandy floor in the dim light.

"There's tracks," he said, "and they go into t one!" We walked to the opening. There was a faint stir of cool air from the opening. "We'll need a torch," Heath commented. "Back from the opening, a body can't see nothing." "Wait," I said, loading my Ferguson.

One hand felt for my pistol, and it was there.

We could hear shouts and yells from outside, the sounds of men crashing in the brush. Heath moved closer to me. "Seen some small boot-tracks.

Likely to be Lucinda's." "All right," I said. "Look around, Isaac. You might find something for a torch.

Others have come this way and they'd need light." Suddenly I remembered. "Be careful! There may be a drop off!" Their voices receded, and for the moment I was alone. The temperature of the cave was cool, but not unpleasant. Rifle in hand, I sat watching the circle of light that was the entrance. I was tired. For days I had been riding, ru

Isaac returned. For several minutes I heard his feet coming along the passage before I saw him. "We've found some pine knots. Quite a store of them." "Then we'll go." He turned and I straightened up, stretching a little. The butt of the Ferguson touched the rock wall and I turned to look.

A Maltese Cross.

Chipped into the wall, and not recently, by the look of it. A Maltese Cross with one side of a cross bar longer than the other. Accident?

Or intent?

No footprints in the sand led into t tu

From down the other passage, Heath called, "You comin'?" "In a minute." Van Runkle had warned of deep wells within this cave. Was it true? Or merely a means to prevent my wandering and searching?

I took a step into the blackness. The air was cool. It seemed to be dead air... or did I feel a ghost of movement? Another step, my hand upon the wall, my rifle point probing ahead of me.

Nothing. I took another step, and my foot kicked a small fragment fallen from the wall, or carried in on the mud of a boot. The stone hit something, then fell. A long time later I heard it hit, something far down below me, and then again, still farther. A still longer time, then a splash.

Very carefully, I stepped back, then turned and retreated into the dim light of the entrance cave.

Was that where the treasure was? Or was it a deathtrap deliberately pla

Enough for now. Somewhere Lucinda might need us, and her life was more precious than whatever gold there might be. I walked swiftly along the passage until I saw a glow of light ahead.

Isaac and Cusbe waited, both with lighted pine knots. Taking another from the goodly pile, I lighted it also and we started along the tu

When we had gone some distance, we saw light ahead. We smothered our torches, and stepping into the lead, I walked on.

We found ourselves in a roomy, pleasant cave. There were several bearskins about, one of them on a bench with other furs. And the first thing we saw was Van Runkle. He was seated on a skincovered seat of some sort, with a shotgun in his hands, and he was watching us. Lucinda sat on the bearskin against the wall.

"Thank you for taking care of Miss Falvey," I said quietly. "It was good of you, sir." His shrewd eyes appraised us.

"Ain't said as I was," he replied. "Mebbe I'm a-holdin' her. Right nice filly, that one. Better'n a squaw." "I agree. She's a handsome lass. And we, my friends and I, have taken it upon ourselves to find what she came here to get, and then to escort her to a place in civilization where she can live as a young lady should." "Nice of you." He took his pipe from his mouth with his left hand. "Right nice. If'n I decide to let her go." "And as one gentleman to another, I know you will.

The young lady is far from home and relatives.

Naturally she's frightened--was "I am not!" She held her head proudly, her chin lifted a little. "I'm not afraid of him.

He brought me here when I was cold and tired, and he's been very kind." "Of course. Mr. Van Runkle and I have met before, and he is kind, and a gentleman, as I suggested.

"Now, sir, I think we had better think of getting out of here and continuing on our way. We must round up our horses, as we have far to go." "You just stand right there where you be. You ain't goin' to cut much figger with a belly full of buckshot, and I got it to give you. Hayl bullets, some calls 'em. Well, whatever they call 'em, they're just as good at tearin' a man up." "You might shoot," I said, "but we'd kill you. I have a rifle, as have these gentlemen with me.

And no matter how much buckshot you throw my way, I'll still manage a shot. Believe me, I will.

"The mind is a powerful thing, my friend, and the will can complete a movement even when a man's dying.

If you shoot, I'll kill you as well." "Mebbe. An' mebbe you ain't got the guts for it." I smiled at him. "Mr. Van Runkle, you may wonder why a man of my attainments has come west. I came west to die, sir. My wife and my child died back there in a fire. There are many fires in a land where candlelight and open fireplaces exist, and I lost all I loved.

"So you see, Mr. Van Runkle, I have the edge. I just don't give a damn!" Lucinda was staring at me as if she had never seen me before.

Van Runkle scowled. There was a difference between facing a man who might be controlled by fear and one who was utterly careless, and my story had just enough truth in it for him to believe me. He had no wish to die, but you ca

"Put the gun down, Van Runkle," I said quietly, "or shoot, but when your finger tightens on that trigger, you're going to take a slug right through the belly!" Ebitt, who had entered the room with his gun muzzle lowered, now tilted his, as did Isaac Heath.

"Hell," Van Runkle said with disgust, "you just ain't got no humor! I didn't mean to shoot nobody! I got as much reason for stoppin' that Falvey feller as you uns have!" He put his shotgun down and stood up.