lla.theburninghills-第6部分

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plain　why　he　believed　it。　He　had　seen　only　two　fresh　tracks　atop　the　mesa　and　neither　could　be　identified　as　those　of　the　hunted　man。
　Jordan　had　lost　blood；　much　blood。　Yet　he　had　kept　moving　and　at　no　time　had　he　failed　to　use　his　head。　Such　a　man　was　dangerous。
　Lantz　knew　nothing　of　Jordan　but　he　could　read　a　trail　and　he　knew　that　Jordan　knew　wild　country　and　how　to　cover　a　trail。　And　he　used　none　of　the　obvious　methods。　Nor　had　he　done　the　same　thing　twice。
　The　country　through　which　they　moved　was　wild　and　broken。　It　lay　upon　the　border　between　New　Mexico　and　Arizona　to　the　north　and　Sonora　and　Chihuahua　to　the　south。　Water　holes　were　few　and　the　country　south　of　the　border　was　without　population　for　more　than　fifty　miles　into　Mexico。
　In　the　past　there　had　been　bitter　fighting　along　the　border　but　only　Pablo　Chavero　had　lasted　against　the　hard…fighting　Sutton…Bayless　outfit　and　then　he　too　had　gone　down。　Yet　if　the　hunted　man　were　to　get　aid　from　any　source　it　could　only　be　that　one　family。
　〃Vicente's　yellow；〃　Mort　Bayless　said。
　〃That　girl　isn't；〃　Hindeman　said。
　〃We'd　see　it　if　she　helped　him；〃　Joe　Sutton　argued。　〃This　country's　all　wide　open。〃
　〃Then　why　don't　we　see　him？〃
　Lantz　ignored　the　conversation；　considering　the　girl。　She　had　no　love　for　any　gringo；　that　much　he　knew。　But　most　of　all　she　had　no　love　for　any　Sutton　or　Bayless。　The　question　was：　would　she　risk　all　they　had　by　incurring　the　Sutton　anger？
　She　might。。。
　He　set　himself　to　watch　the　girl。　Vicente；　he　soon　realized；　was　worried。　It　showed　in　the　young　Mexican's　restlessness　and　in　the　way　his　eyes　kept　searching　the　hills。　A　man　of　lesser　perception　might　believe　he　knew　something　but　Lantz　surmised　the　truth。　Vicente　wanted　no　trouble　and　with　the　Sutton　riders　in　the　hills　trouble　could　e　at　any　moment
　Lantz　settled　himself　among　the　sparse　growth　above　the　canyon。　He　had　his　glasses　with　him　and　he　could　watch　the　movement　around　the　house。　His　was　an　infinite　patience。　Neither　hours　nor　days　had　any　meaning　when　he　was　on　the　hunt　and　his　eyes　missed　nothing。
　At　dusk　he　watched　Maria　Cristina　and　Juanito　bring　in　the　sheep。　They　were　penned　near　the　house；　the　big　dogs　were　fed　and　smoke　lifted　lazily　from　the　chimney。
　Vicente　came　out　and　chopped　wood。　Lantz　would　see　the　axe　rise；　then　fall　and　some　time　later　he　would　hear　the　sound；　mellowed　by　distance。　The　setting　sun　edged　the　shadows　with　somber　orange　as　of　distant　fires　blazing。　Jacob　Lantz　lit　his　pipe　and　waited。　Now　would　be　the　time　。。。
　Yet　nothing　happened。　The　fingered　pinnacles　grew　tall；　the　deeper　canyons　swallowed　darkness。　Maria　Cristina　came　from　the　house　and　he　poised　like　a　hound　at　a　vagrant　scent　but　she　merely　checked　the　corral　bars　and　returned　inside。　And　then　that　canyon　too　was　lost　in　darkness。　Only　the　two　visible　windows　glowed。　The　night　grew　cool。
　Perhaps　he　was　mistaken。　Perhaps　they　knew　nothing。　Yet　he　could　go　closer　at　night。
　At　dusk　Trace　Jordan　rolled　from　his　blankets　and；　taking　his　time；　crawled　to　the　edge　of　the　cliff。　From　behind　the　screen　of　brush　he　looked　into　the　canyon。
　For　the　first　time　he　could　appreciate　the　situation。　Below　him　the　canyon　was　less　than　a　hundred　yards　wide　but　within　a　short　distance　it　spread　out　into　a　flat。　The　canyon　was　actually　a　hanging　valley　that　dropped　off；　some　two　miles　away；　into　the　vast　flat　that　lay　on　both　sides　of　the　border　and　it　was　upon　that　flat　where　Sutton…Bayless　cattle　grazed。
　In　the　foreground；　almost　in　the　center　of　the　widest　part　of　the　canyon　lay　the　Chavero　homestead。　The　canyon　at　that　point　was　well　grassed　and　along　the　lower　slopes　of　the　canyon　where　it　was　not　too　steep　to　be　grazed　he　could　see　the　telltale　signs　of　sheep…fat；　antelope　bush　and　other　plants　that　were　excellent　stock　feed。
　Once　his　eyes　seemed　to　catch　a　flicker　of　movement　on　the　steep　canyon　slide　across　the　way。　After　watching　for　a　long　time　he　decided　he　was　mistaken。
　He　lay　watching　the　canyon　until　the　night　was　wholly　dark；　unaware　that　on　the　opposite　slope　Lantz　was　also　watching。　Feeling　a　faint　chill；　he　crawled　back　to　his　blankets。　He　lay　a　long　time；　sick　and　exhausted　by　his　efforts；　before　he　could　muster　the　strength　to　eat　a　tortilla　and　a　small　bit　of　jerky。　He　took　his　time；　savoring　the　food　and　chewing　a　long　time　to　make　it　last。
　The　girl　was　taking　a　great　risk　and　he　had　no　right　to　permit　it；　yet　he　had　little　choice。　Obviously　the　Suttons　believed　him　in　the　vicinity　or　the　chase　would　long　ago　have　gone　on。　And　how　long　would　this　hiding　place　remain　unfound？　Suppose　from　the　cliff　opposite　someone　glimpsed　a　darkness　where　his　shelter　was？　Or　detected　some　chance　movement　of　his？
　Maria　Cristina　was　pitting　her　wits　against　the　cunning　of　Jacob　Lantz　and　it　was　unfair。
　Given　an　even　chance；　his　brick…dust　horse　would　outrun　anything　in　the　country　but　the　canyon　was　undoubtedly　watched　and　his　own　strength　was　not　up　to　a　hard　ride。　He　could　not　stand　the　pounding　of　a　hard　ride　over　these　trails　and　he　had　still　to　find　the　killers　of　Johnny　Hendrix　and　to　take　from　them；　if　possible；　the　price　of　his　stolen　horses。
　He　was　awake　with　the　sun。　He　ate；　then　drank　deep　at　the　spring。　He　flexed　his　muscles；　tightening　and　relaxing　them；　working　his　fingers　to　keep　them　supple。　When　the　sun　came　up　he　moved　from　the　overhang　to　lie　in　the　warmth　and　sunlight。　Later　he　started　to　crawl　to　the　cliff…edge　but　gave　it　up。　He　was　too　weak。
　The　big　red　horse　fed　on　the　rich　grass　at　the　back　part　of　the　ledge。　He　was　invisible　unless　he　got　to　the　edge　of　the　brush　along　the　rim。
　The　day　drew　on　slowly　。。。
　Whatever　Maria　Cristina　had　used　in　that　poultice；　it　had　taken　the　inflammation　from　his　wound。　When　he　examined　it　before　bathing；　he　saw　it　looked　much　better；　although　still　an　ugly　gash。
　From　his　saddlebags　he　got　his　glasses。　They　were　a　strong　pair　of　binoculars　purchased　at　an　army　post；　handy　in　hunting　stray　cattle　or　wild　horses。　He　studied　the　terrain　to　know　it　better；　trying　to　learn　the　trend　of　the　canyons　。。。　it　was　well　along　in　the　morning　when　his　eyes　caught　a　momentary　reflection　on　the　cliff　opposite。
　Well　below　his　own　position；　it　was　high　above　the　sheep。　When　he　had　watched　the　place　for　a　long　time　he　decided　his　eyes　had　been　mistaken　or　it　had　been　sunlight　reflected　from　a　bit　of　shale　dislodged　by　some　scurrying　rabbit　or　pack　rat。　There　was　nothing　there　。　。　。　and　then　he　saw　it　again。
　It　was　a　scant　movement　that　alerted　him。　He　swung　his　glasses　back　over　ground　previously　examined。
　The　spot　seemed　to　offer　no　concealment；　yet　there　might　be　some　shallow　place　in　the　ground　where　a　man　might　lie。　A　man　who　would　be　invisible　until　he　moved。　And　then　he　saw　him；　a　lean　old　man　with　sharp　hatchet　features；　a　man　who　could　only　be　Jacob　Lantz。　He　lowered　his　glasses；　knowing　the　danger　of　looking　too　directly　at　a　man。　Such　men　had　a　sharp　awareness　that　warned　them　when　they　were　watched。　Maria　Cristina　was　with　the　sheep。　The　boy　was　off　gathering　sticks　for　the　bundle　they　would　take　home　behind　the　saddle　at　night。　Did　she　know　Lantz　was　on　the　cliff？　Trace　tried　to　think　of　some　way　to　warn　her　without　at　the　same　time　revealing　his　own　presence　and　it　was　impossible。　He　would　only　wait　and　trust　to　the　girl's　innate　good　sense。
　He　tried　to　judge　the　distance　to　where　Lantz　lay。　Four　hundred　yards？　It　was　across　the　canyon　and　down　toward　the　Chavero　home　。。。　no；　closer　to　six　or　seven　hundred。
　He　got　his　rifle　and　checked　the　chamber　to　see　if　a　shell　was　ready；　then　put　it　aside。　He　sighted　down　the　rifle　barrel　first；　trying　to　estimate　the　drop　of　the　bullet。　Shooting　downhill　could　be　deceptive。　That　might　e　but　it　must　be　as　a　last　resort。
　Twice　Maria　Cristina　got　to　her　feet。　Each　time　she　walked　purposefully　and　each　time　Lantz　moved　swiftly　along　the　cliff　to　keep　her　in　sight。　Once　she　gathered　wood；　another　time　it　was　squaw　cabbage　for　an　evening　meal。　Returning　to　the　shade；　she　sat　there　a　few　minutes；　then　got　up　and　walked　directly　to　a　place　under　the　cliff　where　Lantz　stood　but　where　she　would　be　invisible　to　the　old　tracker。
　Puzzled；　Jordan　tried　to　imagine　her　purpose。　It　came　to　him　suddenly。　Maria　Cristina　knew　Lantz　was　watching　and　was　deliberately　tormenting　him！
　There　was　now　no　possible　way　in　which　he　could　see　what　she　was　doing　and　to　a　man　of　Lantz's　mind　there　could　be　nothing　worse。　She　might　actually　be　with　the　hunted　man；　she　might　be　sending　him　a　signal；　she　might　be　hiding　food　for　him。
　On　the　hillside　Lantz　was　restless　but　the　girl　sat　quietly　sewing　under　the　cliff。　Yet　she　had　been　there　only　a　few　minutes　when　the　young　man　on　the　paint　pony　rode　up。　This；　although　Jordan　did　not　know；　was　Vicente。
　Vicente　drew　rein　near　where　Maria　Cristina　sat　and　waited　for　her　to　speak。　When　she　said　nothing；　Vicente　said；　〃They　are　still　here。〃
　She　made　no　reply。　Maria　Cristina　loved　her　brother　but　his　weakness　angered　her。
　〃Do　you　know　where　he　is？〃
　〃Who？　Of　whom　do　you　speak？〃
　〃The　man　they　seek。　This　Jordan。〃
　〃What　do　I　know？　Until　now　I　did　not　even　know　his　name。〃
　Vicente　stared　uneasily　at　his　sister。　S