Curse of Texas Gold by Bradford Scott

Author:Bradford Scott [Scott, Bradford]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wildside Press LLC
Published: 2019-06-24T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

SHADOW TOOK IT, with an almost human scream of terror. Over the lip of the cliff he soared. Slade had a fleeting glimpse of dark fangs of stone rising like living things from a waste of white water. And then they struck, with a surging plunge, grazing a spire of naked rock. Slade flung himself from the saddle as they went down and down into the icy depths. With one hand he gripped the bit iron, with the other the pommel of the saddle as the frantic horse struggled with all his great strength to rise.

It seemed to Slade that they were under water for many minutes, although reason told him it was only a few seconds. His lungs were bursting when they at last broke surface together and were caught by the full force of the current and instantly submerged again. But in that instant horse and man had filled their lungs full of life-giving air.

This time they were under water but a moment, rising to the surface with the push of the current behind them. Slade could see the cliff face flickering past. The little river ran like a mill race. Fighting to keep Shadow’s head up, stroking desperately with his legs, he glanced ahead. Less than a fifth of a mile away the stream frothed around a bulge. But on the rimrock above appeared the shape of a mounted man. He swung to the ground, ran forward and paused, rifle raised.

Slade saw the puff of smoke, heard the spat of the bullet on the water a few yards off. Another puff and another slapping sound, closer this time. He went under, dragging the snorting horse with him, fighting to keep them both submerged as long as possible. Unable to endure the torture any longer he broke surface, and again heard the ominous spat of the ricocheting slug.

But now the thin crack of the rifle came from behind, and nearer and nearer loomed the cliff bulge around which the river swept.

A last angry whine of lead passed so close its lethal break fanned his face. To Slade’s whirling brain that quick whine seemed to hold a baffled note as the current flung them around the bulge and safe from further bullets.

But Slade soon wondered if he had simply traded a swift death on the land for a slower but nonetheless sure one in the water. Its icy bite and the fierce pounding of the current numbed his muscles and sapped his strength. And to make matters worse, the drive of the current was toward the cliff wall, the stream raving and foaming against that seamless barrier and flinging back in dizzy whirlpools.

Even Shadow’s iron might was failing and it was all Slade could do to prevent him from succumbing to utter panic and fatal struggling. All they could do was breast the current sufficiently to keep from being pounded to a pulp against the cliffs.

Suddenly a fresh terror made itself heard, a low thundering that could mean but one thing; no great distance ahead the river surged over a fall of great height.

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