Girl on a Slay Ride by Louis Trimble Page A

spot as he worked, but the memory eluded him.
    Graef came out of the brush carrying a hand ax and his gun. He studied Mallory’s work. “That’ll do,” he said. “Follow me.” He took the shovel. He started up the road, ignoring Mallory.
    Mallory followed closely. Graef wasn’t worried about him now, he thought bitterly. Graef knew that as long as he had Denise, he also had Mallory.
    They walked a good eighth of a mile past the deadhead. Mallory began to remember the country, and he wasn’t surprised when the road broke through a narrow gap in a sheer rock wall and ended in a flat, grassy meadow.
    The meadow was cupped in an almost perfect circle of sheer rock walls rising eighty to a hundred feet everywhere except where the road entered. A thin circle of timber rimmed the meadow, and a low-water creek ran along the south side of the grass.
    Mallory realized how clever Graef had been in choosing this spot as a base of operations to explore the rugged mountains to the east. There was wood and water, but more important, there was the wall of rock. The ten-foot-wide gap they had come through was the only possible exit. Once Graef had Blalock inside, Mallory reasoned, he had only to guard the gap to keep him there.
    Graef stopped at the edge of the meadow. He turned to Mallory. “There are some weed-grown trails that lead around this meadow and eastward. I imagine one of them will take us to where Blalock hid the money.”
    “You’ve got everything figured out,” Mallory said.
    “Everything,” Graef agreed.
    “Except how to get Blalock to tell you where he hid the money,” Mallory said.
    Graef’s empty smile slipped briefly and then returned. He said, “I won’t have any trouble with him. You can plan to guide us to the place by tomorrow morning.”
    Mallory took in a deep breath of the cold, dry air. He had worked off his anger. Now he felt pretty good, he decided. This was his country, his element.
    He said softly, “That’s right, Graef. I can guide you. But no one else can. Remember that.”
    Graef laughed. “So now you hold a few cards yourself.”
    “That’s right,” Mallory said.
    Graef made a mocking bow. “Then forward, oh scoutmaster, and take charge.” The laughter disappeared from his voice. “Only don’t forget that your authority has limits, Mallory. And mine doesn’t!”
    Mallory walked past him toward the center of the meadow. Thoms was there struggling to erect Mallory’s umbrella tent.
    Mallory said, “A cub scout could do better. You’ve got the tent in a low spot and too close to the creek. A quick rain would flood you out.” He moved to his left. He pointed at a circle of stone filled with dead ashes. “And you’re to windward of the fireplace and too close to it. Or maybe you want to be burned out.”
    Thoms scowled at him. Graef said, “This is Mallory’s element, Nick. Notice how he’s changed. He’s come into his own. I told you he’d be the man we wanted.”
    Thoms said, “Then let him do the work.” He left the tent to Mallory and stalked away.
    Mallory saw that Blalock was roosting like a great, ungainly bird on a boulder near the fireplace. There were half a dozen other boulders near-by. Thoms sat on one and stared sulkily at the ground. Mallory looked around for Denise. She was nowhere in sight although her two pieces of luggage were on the pile Thoms and Blalock had made.
    Graef interrupted his thoughts by saying, “What other ideas do you have, Mallory?”
    “You, Thoms and Blalock haven’t got a tent,” Mallory said, “so put your sleeping bags under that clump of runt firs over there where they’ll keep dry. And the fireplace needs cleaning out.”
    He glanced up at the sky. He was surprised to see that the sun was sliding downward toward the rim of mountains to the west. He hadn’t realized they’d used up so much time since Graef picked them up. “Better get some firewood stacked too,” he said. “It’s easier to find in the