Riders of the Purple Sage

ses to return to the open, if their riders heard shots. He waited breathlessly. But the estimated time dragged by and no riders appeared. Venter

The first man at whom he had ever aimed a weapon he had shot through the heart. With the clammy sweat oozing from every pore Venters dragged the rustler in among some bou

curiosity. For he had shot Oldring's infamous lieutenant, whose face had never been seen. Venters experienced a gr

stood over a slight, dark figure. The rustler wore the black mask that had given him his name, bu

red Venters. "He wears no belt. He coul

and a sudden twitching of body t

stand here and watch him die

ight chestnut hair, inclined to curl, and a white, youthful face. Along the lower line of cheek and jaw

... What! Can he be O

iousness. He stirred; his lips moved; a

ed the rider's right breast, high up to the shoulder. With hands that s

ess of skin, from which welled a slender red stream.

ed. "A girl!... I

e. Consciousness of death was there, a blended terror and pain, but no con

tner's grasp. Slowly she relaxed and sank partly back. The ungloved hand sought the wound, and pressed so hard that her wrist

antelope which he was about to finish with his knife. But in her it had infinitely more-a revelation of mortal spirit.

didn't know!" b

ng, bloody froth. By that Venters knew the air in her lungs was mixing with blood. "Oh, I knew-it

quiver and she lay back limp, stil

for the bullet had gone clear through her. Nevertheless, he tore sageleaves from a bush, and, pressing them tightly over her wounds, he bound the b

ing mind. "I must get out of here.

. He slipped his rifle under her, and, lifting her carefully upon it, he began to retrace his steps. The dog trailed in his shadow. And the horse, that had stood drooping by, followed without a call. Venters chose the deepest tufts of grass and clumps of sage on his return. From time to time he glanced over his shoulder. He did not rest. His concern was to avoid jarring the g

s then appreciated the tax that long carry had been to his strength. He sat down to rest. Whitie sniffed

er rustler's horse; so, taking his rifle and calling for Ring, he set out. Swiftly yet watchfully he made his way through the canyon to the oval and out to the cattle trail. What few tracks might have betrayed him he obliterated, so only an expert tracker could have trailed him. Th

nt of her lips to mean that she wanted water. Lifting her head, he tipped the canteen to her lips. After that she again lapsed into un

se free. This done, he cut spruce boughs and made a lean-to for the girl. Then, gently lifting her upon a blanket, he folded the sides over her. The other blanket he wra

atch and think and feel beside a dying girl whom he had all but murdered. A thousand excus

t fell black he could see her w

," he said, "and be o

him with a shock; and then he would bend over an

tarlight. The horses were not moving, and no so

nters, "and let her grave be as

look of her eyes, the prayer,

of rustlers. That prayer of hers to God for mercy!... Life is strange and cruel. I wonder if other members of Oldring's gang are women? Likely enough. But what was his game? Oldring's Mask Rider! A name to make

Venters watched the immovable white face, and as he watched, hour by hour waiting for death, the infamy of her passed from his mi

bering some old woman's fancy. The blackness paled to gray, and the gray lightened and day peeped over the eastern rim. Venters listened at the breast of the girl. She still

he's got a chance-the bare

out. He reflected on the fact that clean wounds closed quickly in the healing upland air. He recalled instances of riders who had been cut and shot apparently to fatal issues; yet the blood had clotted, the wounds closed, and they had recovered. He had no way to tell if internal hemorrhage still went on, but he believed that it had stopped. Otherwise she woul

t be wise for him to remain long in his present hiding-place. And if he intended to follow the cattle trail and try to find the rustlers he had better make a move at once. For he knew that rustlers, being riders,

ered here. Let's see. Rustlers are a lazy set when they're not

go he bent a long glance down upon the unconscious girl. T

ail. He scanned the oval as keenly as if hunting for antelope. Then, stooping, he stole from one cover to another, taking advantage of rocks and bunches of sage, until he had reached the thickets under the opposite wall. Once there, he exercised extreme caut

the curves of a serpent the canyon wound for a mile or more and then opened into a valley. Patches of red showed

herd!" excl

in this inclosed valley. Oldring, the rustler, was also a rancher. Ven

Water and grass enough for fifty t

been reported from Sterling or the villages north. And Venters knew that the riders had wondered at Oldring's inactivity in that particular field. He and his band had been active enough in their visits to Glaze and Cottonwoods; they always had gold; but of late the amount gambled away and drunk and thrown away in the villages had given rise to much conjecture. Oldring's more frequent visits had resulted in new saloons, and where there had formerly been one raid or shooting fray in the little hamlets there were now many. Perhaps Oldring had another

ossed trail after trail on the north side, and at last entered the canyon out of w

liff-wall. Yet from time to time, as he rested, he saw the massive red walls growing higher and wilder, more looming and broken. He made note of the fact that he was turning and climbing. The sage and thickets of oak and brakes of alder gave place to pinyon pine

ere's volume to that. I wonde

him. Emboldened by this and sure that nothing but a bird could see him, he arose from his hands a

of grass or sage or tree, and with curved, shelving walls. A broad rippling stream flowed toward him, and at the back of the

great. There had been no breaks in the walls, no side canyons entering this one where the rustlers' tracks and the catt

saying to himself. "It headed out. Now what I want

ions had gone wrong. For the first time in years he found himself doubting his rider's skill in finding tracks, and his memory of what he had actually seen. In his anxiety to keep under cover he must have lost himself in this offshoot of Deception Pass, and thereby in some unaccountable manner, missed the canyon wi

d pounding and splashing and ringing. Despite his nerve the chill sweat began to dampen his forehead. What might not be possible in this stonewalled maze of mystery? The unnatural sound passed beyond him as he lay gripping his

t again at realities, and curiosity pr

bbers' retreat, he would have recognized them as rustlers. The discerning eye of a rider saw the signs of a long, arduous trip. These men were packing in supplies from one of the northern villages. They were t

s drove the burros, and straight through the middle, where the water spread into a fleecy, thin film like dissolving smoke. F

th that rushed out in br

dring hides in there. He needs only to guard a trail leading down from the sage-flat above. Little danger of this outlet to the pass being

stopped to cast sharp eyes ahead. The abundant grass left no trace of his trail. Short work he made of the distance to the circle of canyons. He doubted that he

e eastern wall. This latter part proved to be easy traveling, well screened from possible observation from the north and west, and he soon covered it and felt safer in the deepening shade of his own canyon. Then the huge, notched bulge of red rim loomed over him, a mark

f fever shone in her cheeks. He lifted her and held water to her dry lips, and felt an inexpli

" she whisper

who shot you,

not-kill

, n

l-you-do-

l take you back to the canyon where th

ting wing overhead, the marble whi

ke-me-bac