something: "If you want the law to leave you alone, keep your hair trimmed and your boots shined." There was something to it.
After this he entered the closet, closed the door behind him, and went to the shaft. The arrangement of block and tackle had been done by an expert, and would have handled several times his weight. Taking the bag, he lowered himself down the shaft, taking it easy.
Once men had climbed part way up here ... he could see where steps, now almost obliterated, had been carved into the sandstone. They stopped at a shelf that showed a black cave beyond. Sometime he would take the tune to examine that cave.
At the bottom of the shaft he took time to listen, then stepped out. He was in a large, roomy cave. At the front was part of a ruined wall, and he had to walk around fallen rock to reach the outer cave, which was formed merely by an overhang hollowed by wind and rain.
Beyond this a steep path led diagonally down to a sheer cliff that dropped some twenty feet. He looked around and saw a notched pole tucked into a crevice. He took it out, descended by this means, and hid the pole in the brush. From below he could see nothing of the path, only the roof of the overhang.
He looked all around carefully. He saw a trail, an ancient one by the look of it, that led away along the face of the rock and angled down the slope. There were no tracks on the trail.
He went slowly, stepping on rocks where he could, avoiding making any sign of passage. Suddenly he paused. Around a corner of rock he saw a cabin built of native stone, with a pole corral, some chickens, and a few guinea hens. In the corral were several horses and three cows.
He went up to the cabin, walking warily. An old Mexican came out and went to the corral. Taking down a rope, he caught a horse and led it outside.
He spoke to the Mexican, who merely lifed a hand, and then went to the cabin and returned with a saddle and the rest of the rigging.
In his own mind he was now quite sure that he was Ruble Noon. He said, "Has anyone been around?"
The Mexican shook his head. His eyes went to the bandage, just visible under Noon's hat, but he said nothing. He was an old man, square and solid, a muscular man with a seamed and scarred face.
Noon touched the bandage. "Dry-gulch," he said, "I was lucky."
The Mexican shrugged, then gestured toward the house and made a motion of eating. When his mouth opened, Ruble Noon saw the man had no tongue.
Noon shook his head, and believing the saddled horse was for him, he went to it and gathered the reins. The horse nickered softly, seeming to know him. '
'I'll be back in about a week," he said, and the old Mexican nodded.
The trail dipped down, went through a notch in the cliffs, and headed southeast. At first, he saw no tracks on the trail, then a few, obviously many days old. After an hour's ride he saw something gleaming in the sun, still some distance off ... it was the railroad.
He continued on the trail and suddenly found it was parallel to the railroad and perhaps a mile away from it. There were rocks and brush at that point, but a space behind them was beaten by the hoofs of horses, orof one horse tethered there many times. It was a perfect observation point, where a man could wait unseen, watching the railroad and the station.
The station was simply a freight car without wheels, with a chimney made of stovepipe, and a signal for stopping trains.
After watching for several minutes he decided that the place was deserted, and he rode on again along the trail. It wound among a maze of huge boulders, with several other trails coming in to join it, and then it pointed toward the tracks and the station.
The door of the station was on the latch. He opened it, and stepped inside. There was a pot-bellied stove, a woodbox, a bench, and a few faded magazines. He went back outside and raised the stop signal, and settled down to wait.
The fly-speckled schedule told him the train would be along in two hours-a freight
After this he entered the closet, closed the door behind him, and went to the shaft. The arrangement of block and tackle had been done by an expert, and would have handled several times his weight. Taking the bag, he lowered himself down the shaft, taking it easy.
Once men had climbed part way up here ... he could see where steps, now almost obliterated, had been carved into the sandstone. They stopped at a shelf that showed a black cave beyond. Sometime he would take the tune to examine that cave.
At the bottom of the shaft he took time to listen, then stepped out. He was in a large, roomy cave. At the front was part of a ruined wall, and he had to walk around fallen rock to reach the outer cave, which was formed merely by an overhang hollowed by wind and rain.
Beyond this a steep path led diagonally down to a sheer cliff that dropped some twenty feet. He looked around and saw a notched pole tucked into a crevice. He took it out, descended by this means, and hid the pole in the brush. From below he could see nothing of the path, only the roof of the overhang.
He looked all around carefully. He saw a trail, an ancient one by the look of it, that led away along the face of the rock and angled down the slope. There were no tracks on the trail.
He went slowly, stepping on rocks where he could, avoiding making any sign of passage. Suddenly he paused. Around a corner of rock he saw a cabin built of native stone, with a pole corral, some chickens, and a few guinea hens. In the corral were several horses and three cows.
He went up to the cabin, walking warily. An old Mexican came out and went to the corral. Taking down a rope, he caught a horse and led it outside.
He spoke to the Mexican, who merely lifed a hand, and then went to the cabin and returned with a saddle and the rest of the rigging.
In his own mind he was now quite sure that he was Ruble Noon. He said, "Has anyone been around?"
The Mexican shook his head. His eyes went to the bandage, just visible under Noon's hat, but he said nothing. He was an old man, square and solid, a muscular man with a seamed and scarred face.
Noon touched the bandage. "Dry-gulch," he said, "I was lucky."
The Mexican shrugged, then gestured toward the house and made a motion of eating. When his mouth opened, Ruble Noon saw the man had no tongue.
Noon shook his head, and believing the saddled horse was for him, he went to it and gathered the reins. The horse nickered softly, seeming to know him. '
'I'll be back in about a week," he said, and the old Mexican nodded.
The trail dipped down, went through a notch in the cliffs, and headed southeast. At first, he saw no tracks on the trail, then a few, obviously many days old. After an hour's ride he saw something gleaming in the sun, still some distance off ... it was the railroad.
He continued on the trail and suddenly found it was parallel to the railroad and perhaps a mile away from it. There were rocks and brush at that point, but a space behind them was beaten by the hoofs of horses, orof one horse tethered there many times. It was a perfect observation point, where a man could wait unseen, watching the railroad and the station.
The station was simply a freight car without wheels, with a chimney made of stovepipe, and a signal for stopping trains.
After watching for several minutes he decided that the place was deserted, and he rode on again along the trail. It wound among a maze of huge boulders, with several other trails coming in to join it, and then it pointed toward the tracks and the station.
The door of the station was on the latch. He opened it, and stepped inside. There was a pot-bellied stove, a woodbox, a bench, and a few faded magazines. He went back outside and raised the stop signal, and settled down to wait.
The fly-speckled schedule told him the train would be along in two hours-a freight
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