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Show I SwMMk i Mil ILife Mnli I Uw JACKSON CEEGQHY i Vj Copyrlltht by Charles Scrlbner's Sons & CHAPTER XIV Continued 16 ".Tii di t Ii. Judith," the girl whispered tftcr t lie first outburst, when she found that she was slinking pitifully. "You've got to do better than this; I'm ashamed of you." She went buck to hor couch, where she sill down seeking to hold her jangling nerves in check. But, despite her intention, slie sat shaking, listening, lis-tening, listening praying for even the foot l ull of her .jailer. When Ruth was witli her slie attempted at-tempted in a hundred ways to pause the woman's warped brain,, to seek some way to got the belter of her, to gain her trust and so to slip away. I'.ut she found that here was the usual us-ual cunning born of mildness, and that Kuth's one idea was to keep t lie girl who had escaped her once hut who must never escape a;ain. There were times when suspicion awakened in Kulh's mind, and she broke into violent vio-lent rage, so that her big body shook and her eyes in the lantern-light were cruel and murderous, when Judith shrank back, and tried to change the woman's thoughts. Kor more than once had Mad litith cried out: "I'll kill you! Kill you with my own hands to keep you here. To keep you mine, mine, mine!" The woman carried no weapon,, hut after her two hands hail once gripped the girl's shoulders, shaking her, Judith Ju-dith knew that Ituth needed no weapon. wea-pon. Hers was a strength greater than Trevors', greater than two men's. If Mad liuth saw fit to kill Judith with her two hands, she could do it. Sunday passed and Sunday night; Monday and Monday night. Judith knew that she had accomplished nothing, noth-ing, except perhaps to make Ruth believe be-lieve that she was very much of a coward. In Ruth's mud brain that was little enough, since this did not allay her cunning watchfulness. Then Judith began to do something else, something actively. Just to be occupied, oc-cupied, was something. Her fingers selected the largest, thickest brunch from her bed of fir-boughs. It was perns per-ns a couple of inches in diameter and heavy, because it was green. Si; icntly, cautious of a twig snapped, she began with her fingers to strip 'the tiranch, tougli and pliable. Then the iimb must he cut into a length which would make it a club to be used In a cramped space. She found a bit of stone, hard granite, which hud scaled from the walls and which had a rough edge. With this, working many a quiet hour, she at last cut in two the fir-bough. She lifted it in her hands, to feel the weight of it, before she thrust it under her bed to lie hidden hid-den there against possible need. Poor thing as it was, she felt no longer utterly defenseless. Once Mad Ruth, lighting the lantern, lan-tern, had dropped a good match. When she had gone, Judith secured It hastily, hiding it as if it were gold. She knew that now and then Mad Itutb went down the cliffs and to the cabin across the chasm. Always at night and at the darkest-hour. When Mad Ruth, Lighting the Lantern, Had Dropped a Good Match. she heard her go, Judith rose swiftly and went to the heavy door. Always she found it locked; her shaking at it hardly budged the heavy timbers. I'.ut though she could not see it, slie studied it with her fingers until she hud a picture of It in her mind. A picture that only increased her hope-4 hope-4 lessness. r.arehanded she could never hope break it down or push it aside. Am- r.bove it and below, and on each bid-, were the solid wails of stone. She no longer knew what day it was. She scarcely knew If It were day or night. Hut, setting herself something ;o do so that she would not go mad, mad as Mad Ruth, she secured for herself another weapon. Another bit of stone which her groping fingers had found and hidden with her club; a Jugged, ugly rock half the size of a mur.i) bead. Some little scraps of bread and meat, hoarded from her scanty meals, she hid in her blouse. "If I could stun her, just stun her," she got into the way of wdiispering to herself. "Not kill her outright just stun her " At last, seeing that she must work her (Own salvation with the crude weapons given her, Judith told herself her-self that slie could wait no longer. Another day. and another and she would be weak from the confinement and poor food and nervous, wakeful hours. Slie must act while the strength was in her. And, if Trevors Trev-ors had spoken the truth, if there were a man to deal with outside well, she must shut her mind to that until she came to it. Mad liuth was gone again, and Judith Ju-dith stood by the thick door, her heart beating furiously while she waited. It seemed to her eager impatience im-patience that Ruth would never come hack. Then after a long, long time she heard a little scraping sound upon the rock ledge outside, the sound of a quick step. And then, before be-fore she heard the snarling, ugly voice which slie had heard once and had never forgotten, she knew that this time she had waited too long, that it was not Ruth coming. One man and there might he others. oth-ers. She stepped back to her bed, hid the two weapons and waited. She must make no mistakes now. The door was flung open. Outside it was dark, pitch-dark. But evidently evident-ly the man entering had no fear of being seen. He threw down a bundle of dry fagots, and set fire to them. The blaze, leaning un. eastlnsr wav ering gleams to where Judith stood, showed her plainly the twisted, ugly face of Quinnion, his red-rimmed eyes peering at her, filled with evil light. "The better to see you by, my dear !" was Quinnion's word of greeting. greet-ing. Judith made no answer. She drew a little farther back into the shadows, a little closer to the things she had hidden among the fir-branches. fir-branches. "Ho," sneered Quinnion, his mood from the first plain enough to read in the glimpses of his face and in the added harshness of his voice. "Timid little fawn, huh? By G d, a man would say from the bluff you put up that It was all a dream about findin' you an' the han'some Lee in the cabin together! Stan' off all you d n please; I've come to tame you, you little beauty of the big innocent eyes !" Not drunk ; no, Quinnion was never drunk. But, as he came a step closer, the heavy air of the cave grew heavier with the whisky he carried, whisky enough to stimulate the evil within him, not to quench it. "Stund back !" cried Judith, with a sharp intake of breath. "I want to talk with you, Chris Quinnion." "So you know who I am, do you? Well, much good it'll do you." "I know who you are and what you are," she told him defiantly, suddenly sick of her long hours of playing baby, knowing at the moment less fear than hatred and loathing. "Listen to me : Bayne Trevors has come out in the open at last ; he has made his big play and Is going to lose out on it. Your one chance now Is to let me go and to go yourself. Go fast and far, Chris Quinnion. For when the law knows the sort Bayne Trevors Is and how you have worked hand and glove with him, it will know just how much his word was worth when he swore you were with him when father was killed ! Coward and cur and murdered mur-dered !" Quinnion laughed at her. "Little pussy-cat," he jeered. "You've got claws, have you? And you spit and growl, do you? Want me to let you go hack to that swaggering lover of yours, do you? Back to Lee " "That's enough, Quinnion," she said sharply. "Is it?" He laughed at her again, and again came on toward her, the red-rimmed evil of his eyes driving quick fear at last Into her. "Enough? Why, curse you and curse him, I haven't begun yet ! When I'm through with you I'll go fast enough. And he can have you then an' d n welcome wel-come to him !" "Stop !" cried Judith. His laughter did not reach her ears now, but as he kicked the fire at his foot and the flames leaped and showed his face, slie read the laughter in his soul; read It through the gleaming gleam-ing eyes, the twisted mouth which showed the teeth at one side In a horrible hor-rible leer. His long arms thrust out before him, he came on. "Oh, my G d!" cried Judith. "My G d !" alien suddenly she was silent. She thought that she had known the uttermost ut-termost of fear and now for the first time did she fully know what terror was. Ills strength was many times her strength, Ills brutality was unbounded, un-bounded, she was ulone with him. There was no one to call to, not even Ruth, the mad woman. She was shaking now, shaking so that she could barely stund. Quinnion came on, his long arms out. . . . She felt the strength die out of her body, grew for u moment blind and dizzy and sick. She tried again to call out to him, to plead with him. But her voice stuck in her throat. He was gloating over her, a look strangely like Mad Ruth's in his eyes. Good G d ! He was like Mad Ruth ; the same eyes, the same long, powerful power-ful arms, the same look of cunning! In a flash there came to her a suspicion suspi-cion which was near certainty: this man was blood of Mud Ruth's blood, bone of her bone; her son, and, like her, tainted with madness. He shot out a long arm, his hand barely brushing her shoulder. She shrunk back. He stood, content to pause a moment, to gloat further over her. "You little beauty," he said, panting. pant-ing. "You little white and pink and brown beauty !" Judith had shuddered when he touched her. But a strange thing had happened to her. His touch had angered her so that she almost forgot for-got to be afraid, angered her so that the loathing was gone in white hot hatred, giving her back her old strength. Now, though he had the brutal force of a strong man, Quinnion did not have the swiftness of movement of an alert, desperate girl. Before he could grasp her motive she leaped toward to-ward him and toward the bed of boughs, found the ragged stone, and lifting it high above her head flung it full into his face. The man staggered back, crying out in throaty harshness, a cry of blind rage. But he did not fall, did not pause more than a brief instant. A little dazed, with blood in his eyes, he lunged toward her. She had found the club now and struck with all her might, again beating into his face and again and again. He sought to grapple with her and she beat him back. Slie saw his hand go to his hip and heard him curse her, and she leaped in on him and, panting with the blow, struck again. He flung up his arm. She struck once more. Taking Tak-ing the blow full across the face, Quinnion reeled back, stumbled at an uneven spot In the rock floor, balanced, bal-anced, almost falling. . . . Only a moment he held thus. But there was a chance to pass him in the narrow way, and she took her chance, her .heart beating wildly. And as she shot by she struck again. She beard him after her, shouting curses, stumbling a little, coming on. The door was open, thank God, the door was open! She shot through. If she could but take time to close It! But there was no time for that; he was almost at her heels. And outside out-side was the ledge and the dizzy climb down. If she slipped, If she fell, well, it would just be a clean death and nothing noth-ing more. Quinnion was but a few steps behind her. He had not fired. Had he perhaps dropped his gun back there in the darkness? Or was he so sure of taking her, alive and struggling, strug-gling, into his arms in another moment? mo-ment? She was on the ledge. It was dark, pitch-dark. But she found a handhold, hand-hold, threw herself flat down and thrust her feet out over the ledge, less afraid of what lay below than what came on behind her. She was gripping grip-ping the ledge now with her hands, already torn and bleeding, her feet swinging, touching -sheer rock wall, slipping, seeking a foothold. Quinnion wns just there, above her. She must move her bunds so that he could not reach her. It seemed an eternity that she hung there, seeking a place somewhere some-where to set her feet. She found it, another lesser ledge which she had almost missed, and knew that this way she had clambered upward with Bayne Trevors. If she could only find another step and another an-other before Quinnion came upon her! She held her club In ner teeth; she must not let that go. Quinnion was over the ledge, following fol-lowing her. She heard his heavy breathing, heard him cursing her again. Slie was going so slowly, so slowly, and Quinnion would know the way better than she. Quinnion would make better time in the dark. She moved along this lower ledge. At each Instant she wondered if it were to be her last, if slie were going go-ing to fall, if a swift drop through the darkness would be the end 01 lire. Suddenly there was scarce room in the girl's breast for hatrea of Chris Quinnion. so filled was it v.-Wti the love of life. She wanted to see the sun come up again, she wanted the sweet breath of the dawn in her nostrils, nos-trils, the beauty of a sunlit world in her eyes. Slie thought of Bud Lee. Clinging to the rocks, hanging on desperately, taking a score of desperate des-perate chances momentarily, she made her way on and down. She found scant handhold and, almost fulling, dropped her club, heard it strike, strike again. Black us the night was, Its gloom was less than that of the cavern to which Judith hud grown accustomed; ac-customed; little by little slie began to make out the broken surface of the ''.IITs. The chasm beiow was a pool of Ink; above were the llttie stars; In the eastern sky. low down, wus n promise of the rising moon. The surge of quickening hope came Into her heart. LUd she hurl Qula- nion more than she had guessed? For, slowly as she made her hazardous way down, it seemed to her that Quinnion Quin-nion canfe even more slowly. Could slie but once get down into the gorge below, could slie slip along the course of the racing stream, she might run and the sound of her steps would be lost even to her own ears in the sound of the water; the sight of her (lying body would be lost to Quinnion's Quin-nion's eyes. Then she heard him laughing above her. Laughing, with a snarl and a curse in his laugh, and something of malicious triumph. Was be so certain cer-tain of her then? "Ruth!" called Quinnion. "Oh, Ruth ! The girl's gettin' away. Goin' down the rocks. Head her off at the bottom." Judith had found, because her fate was good to her, the long slanting crack in the wall of rock up which she had come that day with Bayne Trevors. Trev-ors. There was still danger of a fall, but the danger was less now than it had been ten seconds ago. She could move more swiftly now and confidence had bpsrnn to come to her that she could elude Quinnion. But now, suddenly, slie heard Mad Ruth's voice screaming a shrill answer to Quinniou's shout ; knew that Ruth had been in her cabin across the gorge and was running to intercept her at the foot of the cliffs. Well, still there was a race to be run and the odds not entirely uneven. Ruth must descend the other side of the canyon, get down into the gorge, make the crossing, which, so far as Judith knew, might be farther up or farther down stream, come to the cliffs below Judith before Judith herself her-self made her way down. Again Judith took what risks the night and the rocks offered her and thanked God in her soul that it was given her to take a chance in the open, to use her own muscles in her own fight, not to lie longer, playing the part of a do-nothing. Now and then, across the void, there floated to her a little moaning cry from the mad woman's lips. Now and then she heard a curse from Quinnion above; often from above her, from below her own feet, from across the chasm, dropping drop-ping stones, falling almost sheer, told of haste and death which might come from an unlucky step. Fast as Judith went now, having i fair sort of cliff trail under her Mad Ruth went faster. The gorge measured a scant fiftv feet between them and the girl's alert senses told her that already Ruth was on a level with her. Ruth was winning in the desperate race. She knew her way down so perfectly, her heart was so filled with madness, that danger was nothing to her. D-own and down climbed Judith, caution wedded to haste, as she told herself that she had a chance yet, that that chance must not be tossed away in a fall, though It were but a few feet. She must have no sprained ankle if she meant to see the sun rise tomorrow. The flush had brightened In the sky where the moon was so near the ridge. The moon, too, had joined in the race ; with one quick glance toward to-ward it, Judith again discarded caution cau-tion for haste. Slie must get down into the floor of the canyon before the moonlight did ; she must be running before its radiance showed her out to Quinnion and Ruth. Her hands were cut and bleeding, her heart was heating wildly, already her body was sore and bruised. But these things she did not know. She only knew that Quinnion was still coming on above her, and coming more swiftly now, quite as swiftly as slie herself moved, since Ills feet, too, were in the better trail ; that Mad Ruth had completed the descent across the chasm and by now must he crossing the stream upon some fallen log or rude bridge; that one minute more, or perhaps two, would decide her fate. She could see the stream, glinting palely in the starlight. It seemed very near; its thunder filled her ears. Down she went and down, down until un-til at last she was not ten feet above its surface, with u strip of gently sloping bank just under her. She stopped, took firm hold upon a knob of boulder, prepared to swing down and drop to the bottom. And, as she stooped, she heard a little whining moan just under her and straightened straight-ened up, tense and terrified. Mad Ruth was there before her, Mad Ruth was waiting. CHAPTER XV Alone in the Wilderness And Quinnion was coming on. She wus trapped, caught between the two of them. She heard Quinnion laugh again; he, tuo, hud heard Ruth. "Oh, God help uie!" whispered Judith. Ju-dith. "God help me now!" There was no time to hesitate. If she stood here, Quinnion would In a moment wrap his arms about her; If she dropped down, she would be In the frenzied clutch of Mad Ruth. A second she crouched, peering down into tue gloom below her, seek- ing to make out the form of the mad woman. Then she did not merely drop, but jumped, landing fair upon the waiting figure, striking with her boots on Mad Ruth's ample shoulders. A scream of rage from Ruth, a little, strangling cry from Judith, and the two fell together. Ruth clutched as slie went down and a hand closed over the girl's ankle. Judith rolled, struck again with the free boot, twisted sharply and felt the grip torn loose from her ankle. She was free. She jumped up and ran and knew that Ruth was running just behind her, screaming terribly. Judith fell, and her heart grew sick within her. But again slie was up just as Ruth's hand clutched at her skirt, clutched and was torn away as Judith ran on. Quinnion cursed from above as slie had not yet heard him curse. Ruth reviled both her and Quinnion for having hav-ing let her go. Judith was running swiftly and felt that she could get the better of the heavier, older woman in a race of this sort. Slie stumbled and fell, and ' folv It' r vW1 1 l n i IS Vfe? Jumped, Striking With Her Boots, on Mad Ruth's Ample Shoulders. fear again gripped her; It seemed so long before she could rise and clamber over a fallen log and race on. But the darkness which tricked her protected pro-tected her at the same time, playing no favorites pow. Ruth, too, had fallen; Ruth, too, was frenzied at the brief delay. Stumbling, falling, rising, staggering stagger-ing back from a tree into which she had run full tilt, braised and torn, the girl ran on. At every free step hope shot upward in her heart ; at every fall she grew sick with dread. The canyon broadened rapidly, the ground underfoot grew less broken and littered with boulders and logs. Through tangles of brush she went blindly, throwing herself forward, falling, rising, falling, rising again. It was a nightmare of a race, with Ruth always just there, almost at her heels. She turned as far away from the stream as she could, keeping under the cliffs where there was less brush; where the way was more open, where the shadows were thickest. She was outdistancing Mad Ruth. Ruth's weird voice came from a greater great-er distance; the woman was ten, maybe may-be twenty, feet behind her. The moon at last rose pale gold above the eastern ridge. And now Judith could thank God for it. Foi the canyon had widened more am; more, the banks of the river were studded with big trees, there were wide open spaces between them through which she shot like a frightened fright-ened deer, turning this way and that, darting about a clump of little (Irs, plunging into the shadows under great sky-seeking cedars, running as she had never run before and as she knew Mad Ruth could not run. Free! She was free. The triumph of it danced In her blood. On she ran and now Quinnion's voice and Ruth's were confused with the roar of the river. On slie ran and on and on, and but faintly there came to her the sound of breaking brush somewhere behind her. Never had her blond sung within her as it sang now; never hnd the dim, moonlit solitudes of the mountains opened their sheltering arms lo one more grateful to slip Into them, like a wounded child Into the soothing embrace of lis mother. Now again she turned so that her (lying stops lirought her close to the water's edge. Louder and louder grew Its shouting voice In her ears, little by little drowning out the sounds of Ruth and Quinnion behind her. Now, in all the glorious night, there was no sound to reach her but the sound of running water and her own beating feet. She was free. (TO BIC CONTINUED.) |