Chapter XIII: A Reign of Terror

Perched almost on the top of a rock-crowned mountain, from a distance the Stockade looked like a boulder, a fact that doubtless accounted for its never having been discovered by any of the Scouts or plainsmen. Not a tree was there within rods of it, so that surprise was out of the question, a condition that had made it so valuable to the gold miners who had used it as a refuge against Indians, and one that had recommended it to the notorious outlaw as the headquarters for his band, and the strong box for his ill-gotten gains.

So jealously had Rogers guarded the secret of its whereabouts that he had always insisted that members of his gang should be blindfolded before he would lead them to it, and thus no one but himself knew the exact trail which he had learned from an old Indian squaw whom he had helped to get revenge upon the chief of her tribe.

Even Pedro did not know how to reach it, and it was, therefore, with deep disappointment that he heard Red order him to bandage the eyes of the prisoners and Rose, and was in turn blindfolded himself.

When these precautions had been taken, the outlaw took a turn with a rope round the waist of each, and thus kept them together and guided them.

On pain of death for any attempt to run away, the Scouts had been allowed the use of their legs by Rogers, in order to facilitate the escape from the Cave. But, because of the numbness caused by the length of time their ankles had been bound, Jennings and Scotty found it difficult to climb the tortuous trail, and it was after midnight before the creaking of a door told them they had reached their destination.

"Stay where you are for a few minutes while I see that all is right," commanded Rogers, dropping the rope.

Wondering whether this was the preface to some terrible deed of treachery, the four stood still, fearing to move.

But their alarm was unfounded.

Lighting a torch, of which there were many in this lofty stronghold, the outlaw went from window to window, making sure that the shutters of iron were in place, that no rays of light might be radiated and thus disclose the location of the Old Stockade.

So well had his gang, who were practically his slaves, fashioned them, however, that they were still sound, and, returning to his companions, he removed their bandages, revealing to their eyes a scene of barbaric splendor. Rugs of finest weave and costly furs covered the floor. Exquisite tapestries adorned the walls, and scattered here and there were glorious statues and ornaments of rarest stone, silver and gold, all the loot of Red Rogers' raids which had often carried him into Mexico.

In speechless amazement, Rose and the Scouts gazed about them.

"Like it?" asked the outlaw, enjoying their surprise. "If you will be good and do as I say for a few days, until I finish my business, I will divide them among you. I'm going away, and shall not have any use for them.

"Pedro, go and bring some wine. You fellows give me your word you won't try to run away, and I'll sever your bonds. Will you do it?"

"Oh, do," implored the girl. "It will seem just as though we were living a fairy tale in some enchanted palace to be up here--only if your arms are bound, it will spoil the illusion."

"And if we don't?" demanded Jennings.

"It won't make any difference to any one but Rosie. I shall give Pedro orders to shoot any one of you who tries to run away. So it's up to you to decide whether you'll be comfortable or not."

"Sort of heads I win, tails you lose, eh?" returned Scotty, to whose youthful imagination, Rose's play-dream appealed strongly.

"That's about it, I reckon," grinned the outlaw.

For several minutes, the Scouts were silent, both loath to give their word to a man than to kill whom nothing would bring them more pleasure. But, at last, solacing themselves with the thought that a promise given to a desperado was no promise at all, they agreed, and Red cut their bonds.

Almost at the same time, Pedro returned bearing a cobweb-covered flagon and some goblets wrought from pure gold, which he filled and passed about.

"We'll drink to the success of my pledge," exclaimed the outlaw, raising the goblet to his lips. "I'm going away to-night," he continued, as he set the golden cup upon a stand. "When I'll be back, I can't just tell. Until I do, you are all to stay here. Pedro, I shall make your life pay forfeit for any escape. If any or all of the three try it, drop them in their tracks. Keep all the weapons in the chest, and don't let the key leave your person."

"But suppose you don't come back?" asked Jennings, significantly. "Do you think we are going to spend the rest of our lives here?"

"Oh, I'll be back, right enough," returned the fearless bandit. "Yet, if you think some of Turkey Gobler's men may get me, I'll leave it this way--if I'm not back again in three days, you may go back to your Fort. I may send you, anyhow, if your colonel is reasonable. That's why I brought you, to make him reasonable. You can divide the stuff here. There's only one condition that I'll make. You must agree to keep Rosie from arrest because of her assistance in getting out of jail."

"I'll agree to that," exclaimed Scotty, with an eagerness that made the other men laugh, and sent a flush to the girl's cheeks.

"Good! But don't bank too heavily on it, for I shall return."

"How about food?" inquired Rose, as the outlaw walked toward the door.

"There's enough in that canvas bag. I helped myself to some of the troopers' stores while I was waiting to get back to the Cave. When I come back, I'll bring more."

And opening the door, the desperado stepped forth into the night.

Familiar with every rock and pebble in the trail, Rogers descended rapidly to the valley.

"Guess I'd better have a mount," he muttered to himself, as he came upon a dozen or more of the cavalry horses.

Having a wonderful power over animals, the outlaw was able, by speaking soothingly, to pick out a horse, just as he had done to the Mounted Scouts, and was soon threading his way up the trail down which he had fled the day before.

Riding with caution until he was out of danger of discovery by the troopers, Rogers headed his mount for the cabin of old Quint, which he reached just at daybreak.

"Go into the woods and up to the spring," piped a shrill voice from behind a half-opened window shutter, in response to Rogers' three taps on the door. "I'll follow right along."

Quickly the desperado obeyed, and was soon joined by a small, hunched-backed man with long gray hair and beard.

"I've been expecting you ever since I heered the news," said he, without any word of greeting. "But you can't stay here."

Though Quint had always been a man of few words, he had, nevertheless, been the one friend in whom Rogers placed implicit reliance. Indeed, the old man had planned many of his raids, sharing royally in the loot, and the brevity of his greeting piqued the outlaw.

"Who said anything about staying here?" he demanded, angrily. "I've got other business."

These words seemed to bring great relief to the old man.

"Just come to say good-bye, eh? Well, I wish you luck. Anything I can do for you? Need any money?"

"Not a cent. But I tell you what I _do_ want. I want to know where I can find Jerry Hooper, Zeb Cross and Al Bender."

These were the names of the three plainsmen who had killed Barney Landon, and as he heard them, Quint looked at the bandit keenly.

"Take my advice, and you'll leave well enough alone. This region is getting mighty hot for you. Better get out before they carry you out," he exclaimed, significantly.

"Thanks, I don't want advice," grinned Rogers. "I want to know where I can find those three fellows."

"You'll find them on their ranches, jest as they used to be."

"Much obliged. Oh, there's another thing you can do for me, Quint. You can go to the Fort and tell Edwards, with my compliments, that he's wasting time trying to smoke me out of the 'Breathing Cave.' Also tell him I'm sorry I had to take another one of his horses."

"So Edwards thinks you're in the Cave?" asked the old man, chuckling. "Sure, I'll be glad to get word to him. I wish he'd been mixed up with Barney. I don't know a man I hate more'n I do Hiram Edwards. Yes, I'll sure let him know."

"Thank you. Good-bye." And with a wave of his hand, Rogers dashed away through the woods.

For a while, he smiled as he pictured to himself the scene between the pompous colonel and the little old man; then became grave as he thought of the mission upon which he was riding.

Though Barney Landon had been a desperado, he had been accused by Zeb Cross of lifting some cattle--and wrongly. Cross, however, lured by a reward, had persuaded Hooper and Bender to waylay the outlaw. This they had done, wounding him grievously. But Landon had managed to ride to where Rogers was spending the night, and died in his arms, after which the outlaw hid his body so that no one could collect the reward.

Before his pal's death, he made him a pledge, and in attempting to carry it out, traveled to the city of Keno, where he had been arrested by twenty Mounted Scouts, but only after he had shot down ten others.

And now, at his first opportunity, this man, whose mind and ideas were so perverted that he preferred a life of crime to one of honor, was taking up the quest again.

Nearest of any of the three was Al Bender's ranch, and thither Rogers rode, recking not that it was broad daylight.

To his delight, Bender was standing in the doorway as the outlaw dashed up.

"Your time has come, Al Bender!" he hissed. And, before the terror-stricken man could escape, Rogers put a bullet through his heart.

"There's one, Barney!" he murmured, as he rode away. "Now, for Zeb Cross!"

Night had fallen before the outlaw reached his destination. Riding boldly to the door, he banged on it with his gun butt.

"_You?_" gasped the ranchman, as he beheld the red-bearded desperado.

But the bark of a pistol was his only answer.

Never heeding the cowboys who rushed to learn the cause of the shot, Rogers raced to the horse corral, hastily cut out one of the ponies, and was away before the people on the ranch had realized what had happened.

"That makes two," he chuckled, grimly. "I only hope Jerry Hooper is at home."

Unfortunately for the man, Red found him returning from a tour of inspection of his cattle at noon the next day.

Recognizing the outlaw from afar, Hooper tried to race away from him. But in vain.

"Now, I can face Barney," exclaimed Rogers, setting his pony toward the Old Stockade.

As the reports of the murders were received, people who had ever been concerned in any trouble with Rogers or Landon feared for their lives, and a veritable reign of terror seized the region.