Читать книгу Six-Gun Gorilla - Anonymous - Страница 8

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It was night time and on the mountain trail out of Muddy Creek there was only one traveler—a nightmarish figure well over six feet tall.

The lone traveler was a gorilla, massive in bulk, with shaggy red-brown hair, a fierce, hideous face, and ungainly limbs. But the fact which would have made any man stare in wonder was that it had a gunbelt round its waist, and a bandolier around one shoulder.

In the holster of the gunbelt was stuck a large, old fashioned six shooter. The bandolier was filled with cartridges that fitted this gun.

The gorilla was steadying the gun as it hurried along, for it did not like it flapping against its thigh.

Its fierce, relentless eyes were fixed on a light ahead, the light of a campfire. A camp meant men, and this particular gorilla was after certain men.

The strange feud had begun back at the Dragonfly Mine, a small gold mine in the Boulder Hills in Colorado. This mine had belonged to one lone miner, Bart Masters, who had worked it for seven years singlehanded except for the aid of this gorilla, which he had purchased when young from a sailor named O'Neil.

O'Neil was the name Masters had given the gorilla, and O'Neil had become his constant companion. The old miner had taught the great beast to be useful. It could dig, haul up buckets of earth from the mineshaft, or even bring in firewood.

All these things Masters had taught it, and what was more it had learned to use a revolver with a fair amount of accuracy. It had always made old Bart Masters chuckle when he had rigged out O'Neil with gunbelt and bandolier. The gorilla had enjoyed it as much as the miner.

Then had come tragedy. One day Masters had decided to quit his mine. He had about ten thousand pounds' worth of gold, which he had considered sufficient to keep himself and O'Neil comfortable for the rest of their lives. He had decided to abandon the mine and go back to civilization.

But that night a gang of gunmen known as the Strawhan Gang, had come to the lonely mine, had shot Bart Masters dead, wounded the gorilla which had been chained for the night, and had made off with all the gold.

O'Neil had recovered, and had nearly gone made when he had discovered his beloved master to be dead. He had buckled on the gunbelt, had taken up the filled bandolier, and had set out to trail the murderers, whom he would know again by sight and scent.

The trail had led to a saloon in Muddy Creek, where the four ruffians had been purchasing stores. O'Neil had appeared in the saloon, had created a mad panic, and the four killers had fled.

Now the gorilla was hoping to pick up the trail again. It was hoping to find the men it sought in that camp in the distance.

O'Neil did not always stick to the trail. Sometimes he turned aside and took shortcuts up the mountainside. Finally he arrived on the edge of a cliff overlooking the hollow where the fire blazed.

Even from where he crouched he could hear the sound of voices. He drew the six shooter from its holster.

He had been taught that if he pointed the weapon at something and pulled the trigger there would be a flash, and the bullet would strike near the object he aimed at.

Now he was tempted to open fire on the camp below, but dimly he remembered that his master had taught him to get fairly near to whatever he was shooting at before pulling the trigger. He was not close enough yet. He must climb down the cliff.

Returning the gun to its holster, he huge gorilla swung itself over the edge, and began to descend.

There were not footholds that a man could have used. But the Six-Gun Gorilla had a great advantage over ordinary gunmen. He could go almost anywhere, and his strength was colossal.

Never once did he take his eyes from the fire where some men sat smoking and talking. None of the men heard him drop softly to the ground and go swiftly forward, the knuckles of his huge hands touching the ground to steady himself, his long fangs showing between his thick, parted lips. The men beside the fire were unaware of the terror that was approaching.

O'Neil stopped behind a bush, and peered at them. His face wrinkled in disappointment. These men did not look like the ones he sought, neither did they smell like them. The scent of the killers was fixed unmistakably in his memory. Now he sniffed the air and shook his head.

He had made a mistake. These were harmless prospectors. There were three of them, and their equipment was piled nearby. In the background were the stocky ponies on which they were transporting their kit.

The ponies must have scented the gorilla, for they began to tremble and fidget. One of the prospectors got up to quiet them and growled:

"Reckon there must be a cougar around these parts. I'll put a bullet in its pesky head if I get a sight of it."

The Six-Gun Gorilla kept perfectly still. O'Neil had no quarrel with ordinary men, unless they got in his way. He prepared to back away.

Then came a sudden interruption. From the other side of the clearing there came a challenge.

"Stick 'em up! If any man moves, he'll get riddled with lead."

Two guns poked through the bushes. The dazed prospectors found themselves covered. They were taken completely by surprise, for they had believed that they had the district to themselves.

Two more guns showed on the other side of the hollow. The prospectors had no chance against their four attackers. Very wisely they remained as they were.

Four men advanced out from the darkness, leading horses which were limping with fatigue and wet with foam.

The hidden gorilla's small eyes gleamed red with rage. It reached for its gun. These were the four men it sought! Tutt Strawhan, with his heavy red moustache, led the way, and slightly behind him came Pete Stark, Jim Lane and El Valdo, the half-breed who was such an expert knife thrower.

"What do you want?" growled one of the prospectors.

"Just to do a little swap over," replied Strawhan, with a sneer. "Our horses are all tuckered up. They're not much good in these parts. We want to swap them for your ponies. I see you have five there. We've a load to carry, an' those will do the job nicely."

"You can't do that?" protested one of the prospectors. "We—"

Tutt Strawhan's gun came round quickly, and covered the speaker.

"And who says so?" he asked. "Got any complaints to make about it?"

There was murder in his cruel eyes. The prospector licked his dry lips, and shook his head.

"N-no!" he gasped.

"I thought not," rasped Strawhan. "These horses of ours will be as good as new when they've rested a while. We've been ridin' 'em hard all day. . . . Hi, boys, get the stuff changed over!"

The Six-Gun Gorilla had now crawled closer. Sitting back on his haunches, he leveled the revolver, and pulled the trigger.

Crack! The bullet knocked the gun out of Strawhan's fist.

It was a remarkable shot, but it was a mere fluke. The gorilla had aimed at the man's head!

The effect, however, was startling. Tutt Strawhan gave a yell of fear, turned, shouted to his men to get mounted, and fairly flung himself across the nearest horse.

He thought that the prospectors had been baiting a trap, and that they had some comrades hiding amongst the bushes. He thought that one of the hidden men must be a deadly shot!

"Beat it!" he snarled, and the four scoundrels fled down the valley on their same tired horses.

They disappeared so quickly that O'Neil was left snarling and staring in bewilderment. When he realized that they were escaping, he bounded in the same direction.

The prospectors were absolutely amazed by all that had happened and they got still another shock when their "rescuer" proved to be a giant, hairy gorilla with a gun in its fist!

O'Neil crashed through their camp without even glancing their way. Once as he stumbled forward he fired after the riders, but his bullet went wide.

The prospectors steadied themselves against trees, and with hands that trembled wiped the perspiration from their brows. Their ponies, at the sight of the monster gorilla, went mad. One of them snapped its tether-rope and raced ahead of O'Neil, along the same path that the fleeing gunmen had taken.

The gorilla was making terrific efforts to overtake the fugitives. In leaps and bounds it cleared all obstacles, but always the frantic pony kept slightly ahead.

O'Neil noticed this, and decided that he would travel more quickly if he were astride that pony. His chance came when the frightened beast tripped over the root of a tree, and stumbled to its knees.

With one mighty leap O'Neil cleared the space between himself and the pony, and came down astride the pony's back, just as he had seen men do.

The pony squealed with terror. It stampeded at breakneck speed, and because the line of the valley was the only direction it could take, it still continued to follow the Strawhan gang.

The Six-Gun Gorilla had never been astride a pony in his life, but balance and grip came naturally to him. He clung on, gripping the pony's neck with one hand, and growled deeply in his throat when the luckless beast seemed like slowing.

Slowly but surely the pony overtook the horses. Those horses in front had not only been ridden recklessly for the past hour, but they were doubly laden. As well as carrying the weight of their riders, they had a load of gold dust and nuggets in sacks. They were nearly at their last gasp.

Then the moon appeared through the clouds, and the four desperate killers heard the clatter of hoofs behind them. They glanced back, expecting to see a party of prospectors after them. Instead however, they saw the Six-Gun Gorilla!

Never had that vengeful animal been more terrible to look upon. Crouching over the pony's neck, brandishing the gun in one hairy paw, the gorilla looked positively fiendish.

Cries of horror escaped the gunmen. The man in the rear, Jim Lane, turned and blazed away with his revolver. But O'Neil took no notice.

Ahead was a river which had to be crossed, and O'Neil was hoping to come up with the killers of his master before they could reach the other side.

The gap between himself and Jim Lane narrowed. The man's horse had gone lame. He was goading it savagely, but it could go no faster. The rider shrieked to the rest of the gang to wait for him, but they took no heed.

With that terrible pursuer on their train, it was a case of every man for himself—and the gorilla take the hindmost!