17 - Alcatraz - Invisible Danger

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter seventeen of Alcatraz by Max Brand. This LibriVox recording
is in the public domain. Invisible Danger, Alcatraz, cresting the hill,
warned the mares with a snort. One by one the
bays brought up their beautiful heads to attention. But the Gray,

(00:22):
as was her custom in moments of crisis or indecision,
trotted forward to the side of the leader and glanced
over the rolling lands below. Her decision was instant and decisive.
She shook her head, and turning to the side, she
started down the left slope at a trot. Alcatraz called

(00:43):
her back with another snort. He knew as well as
she did the meaning of that faint odor on the
east wind. It was man, unmistakably the great enemy. But
during five days that scent had hung steadily here, and
yet over all the miles which he could survey, there
was no sign of a man, nor any places where

(01:06):
man could be concealed. There was not a tree, there
was not a fallen log, there was not a stump.
There was not a rock of such respectable dimensions that
even a rabbit would dare to seek shelter behind it. Still, mysteriously,
the scent of man was there alcatraz, stamped with impatience,

(01:29):
and when the gray winnied, he merely shook his head
angrily in answer. It irritated him to have her always right,
always cautious, and besides, he felt somewhat shamed by the
necessity of using her as a court of last appeal.
To be sure, he was a keener judge of the

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sights and scents of the mountain desert than any of
the half bred mares. But though he lived to fifty years,
he would never approach the stored with wis the uncanny
acuteness of eye ere and nostril of the wild gray.
Her viewpoint seemed at times that of the high sailing buzzards,

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for she guessed miles and miles away, what water holes
were dry, and what tanks brimmed with water, what trails
were broken by landslides since they had last been traveled,
and where new trails might be found or made when
it was wise to seek shelter because a sand storm
was brewing, where the grass grew thickest and most succulent

(02:35):
on far off hill sides, and so on and on.
The treasury of her knowledge could be delved in inexhaustibly.
On only one point did he feel that his cleverness
might rival hers, and that point was the most important
of all man the great destroyer. She knew him only

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from a distance, whereas had not Alcatraz breathed that dreaded
scent close at hand, had he not, on one unforgettable occasion,
felt the soft flesh turned the pulp beneath his stamping feet,
and heard the breaking of bones. His nostrils distended at
the memory, and again he searched the lowlands. No, there

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was not a shadow of a place where man might
be concealed, and the scent could be nothing but a
snare and an illusion. To be sure, there were other ways,
hardly less convenient to the water hole, But why should
he be turned from the easiest way? Day after day?
Because of this unbodied warning, he started down the slope.

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It brought the gray after him, neighing wildly, But though
she circled around him at full speed, time after time,
he would not pause, And when she attempted to block him,
he raised his head and pushed her away with a
resistless urge of breast and shoulders. At that she attempted

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no more forceful persuasion, but fell in behind him, still
pausing from time to time to send her mournfully persuasive
whinny after the obdurate leader, until even the bays, usually
so blindly docile, grew alarmed and fell back to huddled
grouping half way between Alcatraz and the trailing Gray. It

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touched his pride sharply. This division of their trust. Twice
he slackened his lope and called to them to hasten,
and when they responded with only a faint heart at trot,
he was forced to mask his impatience. Coming to a walk,
he cropped imaginary grasses from time to time, and so

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induced the others to draw nearer. It was slow work
going down the hollow in this way, and hot work two.
But though he often glanced up yearningly towards the wooded
hills beyond, he kept his pretense of carelessness and so
managed to hold the mares in a close bunched group

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behind him. In the meantime, the scent grew stronger closer
to the ground on that east wind. Time and again
he raised his head and stared earnestly, But it was
impossible for any living creature to stalk within hundreds of
yards of him without being seen, where as that scent

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spoke of one almost within leaping distance. Once, it seemed
to his excited imagination, as he lowered his head to
sniff at a tuft of dead grasses, had he heard
the sound of human breathing. He snorted the foolish thought
into nothingness, and after it glanced back to make sure

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that his companions followed, he resolutely stepped out into the
very heart of the man's scent. So closely was that
phantom located by the sense of smell that it seemed
to Alcatraz he could see the exact spot on the
hill side, behind a small rock where the ghost must lie.

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Yet he disdained to flee from empty air, and for
all his beating heart, he raised his head and walked
sedately on the danger spot was drifting past on his
left when a squeal of fear from the wild gray
far in the rear made Alcatraz leap sideways with catlike suddenness.

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Growing by magic, from the sand behind the little rock,
the head and shoulders of a man appeared, his shadow
pouring down the sun whitened slope. In his hand, he
swung a rapidly lengthening loop of rope, and as his
arm went back, it knocked off the fellow's hat and
exposed a shock of red hair. So much Alcatraze saw

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while the paralysis of fear locked every joint for the
tenth part of a second, and deeply as he dreaded
the apparition itself, he dreaded more the whipping circle of rope,
for had he not seen the dead thing become alive
and snakelike in the skilled hand of Manuel Cordova, the

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freezing terror relaxed. The sand crunched away under the drive
of his rear hoofs. As he flung himself forward with
firm footing to aid, he would have slid from beneath
the flying danger, but as it was, he heard the
live rope whisper in the air above his head. He

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landed on stiff legs, checked his forward impetus, and flung
sideways on solid footing. He would have dodged successfully. As
it was, the noose barely clipped past his ear. As
the rope touched his neck, it seemed to Alcatraz that
every wound dealt him by the hand of man was

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suddenly aching and bleeding again. The skin along his flanks
quivered where the spurs of Cordova had driven home time
and again, and on the shoulders and belly and hips
there were burning stripes where the quirt had raised its wail.
Most horrible of all, in his mouth came the taste

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of iron and his own blood, where the Spanish bit
had wrenched his jaws apart. Out of the old days,
he might have remembered the first and bitterest lesson, that
it is folly to pull against the rope. But now
he saw nothing save the fleeing forms of the seven Mares,

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and his own freedom vanishing with them. In his mid leap,
the lariat hum taut sank into a burning circle into
the flesh at the base of his neck, and he
was flung to the ground. No man its power could
have stopped him so short the cunning enemy had turned
a half hitch around the top of that deep rooted rock.

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He landed not inert, but shocked out of hysteria, into
all his old cunning, the wily savagery which had kept
Cordova in fear tenfold more terrible, since the free life
had clothed him with his full strength. The very impetus
of his fall he used to help him whirl to

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his feet, and as he rose he knew what he
must do. To struggle against the tools of men was
always madness and brought only pain as a result. Like
a good general, he determined to end the battle by
getting at the root of the enemy's fire. And, wheeling
on his hind legs, he charged red Paris. The first

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leap revealed the mystery of the man's appearance. Behind this rock,
which was barely sufficient shelter for his head, he had
excavated a pit sufficient to shelter his crouching body, and
the sand which he removed for this purpose had been
spread evenly over the slope so that no suspicion might

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be created in the most watchful eye. He had sprung
from his concealment and was now working to loosen the
half hitch from the rock. As the knot came free,
Alcatraz was turning, and now Paris faced the charge with
a rope caught in his hand. What could he do?

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There was only one thing, and the stallion saw the
heavy revolver bared and leveled at him a flickering bit
of metal. He knew well what it meant, but there
was no hope save to rush on another stride, and
he would be on that frail creature, tearing with his
teeth and crushing with his hoofs. And then a miracle happened.

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The revolver was flung aside a gleaming arc and a
splash of sand where it struck red. Paris preferred to
risk his life rather than end the battle before it
was well begun with a bullet. He crouched over the
rope as though he had braced himself to meet the
shock of the charging stallion, but that was not his purpose.

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As the stallion rushed on him, he darted to one side,
and the fore hoof with which Alcatraz struck merely slashed
his shirt down the back. A faint had saved him,
but Alcatraz was no bull to charge blindly. Twice he
checked himself so abruptly that he knocked up a shower

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of sand, and he turned savagely out of a dust
cloud to end the struggle. Yet the small mad creature
stood as ground, showed no inclination to flee with the rope.
He was doing strange things, making its spin in swift
spirals close to the ground. Let him do what he would.

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His days were ended. Alcatraz bared his teeth, laid back
his ears, and lunged again. Another miracle. As his fore
feet struck the ground in the midst of one of
those wide circles of rope, the red headed man lunged back.
The circle jumped like a living thing, and coiled itself

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around both fore feet between fetlock and hoof. When he
attempted the next leap, his front legs crumbled beneath him.
At the very feet of red Parisy plunged into the
sand once more. He whirled to regain his lost footing,
but as he turned on his back, the rope twisted

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and whispered above him. The off hind leg was noosed,
and then the near one. Alcatraz lay on his side,
straining and snorting, but utterly helpless. Of a sudden he ceased,
all struggle about neck and all four hoofs. Was the
burning grip of the rope so bitterly familiar, and man

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had once again enslaved him. Alcatraz relaxed. Presently there would
come a swift volley of curses, then the whirl and
cut of the whip. No for a great occasion such
as this, the man would choose a large, endurable club
and beat him across the ribs. Why not, even as

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he had served Cordova, this man of the flaming hair
would now serve him. He was very like Cordova in
one thing. He did not hurry, but first picked up
his revolver and replaced it in its holster, having blown
the sand from the mechanism as well as he could.
Then he put on his fallen hat and stood back

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with his hands dropped on his hips, and eyed the captive.
For the first time, he spoke, and Alcatraz shuddered at
the sound of a voice well nigh as smooth as
that of Cordova, with the same well known ring of
fierce exultation. God, Almighty, God Almighty, there can't be no

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horse like this. Jim your dreaming, rub your fool eyes,
and wake up. He began to walk in a circle
about his victim, and Alcatraz shuddered when the conqueror came
behind him. That had been Cordova's way, to come to
a place where he could not be seen and then

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strike cruelly and by surprise, to his unspeakable astonishment. Paris
presently leaned over him, and then deliberately sat down on
the shoulder of the chestnut. Two thoughts flashed through the
mind of the stallion. He might heave himself over by
a convulsive effort, an attempt to crush this insolent devil.

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Or he might jerk his head around and catch Paris
with his teeth. The third and better thought, however, immediately
followed that bound as he was, he would have little
chance to reach this elusive will of the wisp. He
could not repress a quiver of horror and anger, but
beyond that he did not stir. Other liberties were being taken. Cordova,

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in his maddest moments, would not have dared so much.
Down The long muscles of his shoulder and upper fore
leg went curious and gently prying finger tips, and where
they passed, a tingling sensation followed, not altogether unpleasant, Again,
beginning on his neck, the hand trailed down beneath his mane,

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and at the same time the voice was murmuring, Oh beauty,
oh beauty. The heart of Alcatraz swelled. He had felt
his first caress. End of Chapter seventeen,