CHAPTER XXI.MESSENGERS TO BONITA.
The mining-camp of Bonita was in Bonita Cañon among the Chiricahua Mountains, fifty miles to the south of Fort Grant. Sixteen miles from Bonita lay Fort Bowie. Here, at Bonita, was the military headquarters in the campaign against the hostiles.
Grayson tried feverishly to secure further news from Bowie, only to discover that the telegraph-line had been cut. The message apprising him of the escape of Geronimo and his renegades, and of the overwhelming of the deserter’s escort, was the last one, barring a few details of military operations, to get through.
Leaving word that he was to be apprised the moment communication with Bowie was reestablished, the colonel returned to his house. On his way he stopped at his office and wrote out some despatches. Then, sending his orderly for Captain Lund, he continued on to his home.
The young ladies had retired from the porch, and the colonel paced it impatiently while waiting for Lund.
When the captain appeared, the colonel acquainted him with the details of the message just received.
“The telegraph-wire has been cut between here and Bowie, Lund,” finished the colonel crisply, “and there are important despatches to be sent to Bonita.”
“I understand,” returned the captain. “I should be glad to volunteer——”
“You will have your hands full, and so will the rest of us, guarding the water and protecting settlers in this vicinity.We know Geronimo, and his habit of striking quick and telling blows in widely separated places. Our work is mapped out for us, and our five troops are none too many. Can you suggest a reliable man to carry the despatches? It is dangerous work, and will take some one able to use his head as well as his heels.”
“Sergeant Patterson is the man, colonel,” answered Lund promptly. “I’ll back him to make his way through any number of Apaches and bob up smiling at the far end of the trail.”
“Just the man I would have selected. Have him report to me as soon as he can get ready.”
Lund saluted and withdrew. The colonel went into the house.
“What in the world is the matter?” clamored Mrs. Colonel. “It must be something mighty important, colonel, to keep you from supper. We’ve been waiting for you for half an hour.”
“Business first, supper afterward,” said the colonel.
“What’s wrong?”
“Renegade bucks have jumped the reservation at Fort Apache, that’s all.”
Mrs. Colonel was all in a twitter in an instant.
“Not Geronimo?” she fluttered. “Don’t tell me that Geronimo has——”
“What’s Geronimo but a scoundrelly, skulking red ruffian? He’s no more to be feared than any other renegade.”
But the very name of Geronimo carried with it a terror for Mrs. Colonel. She clasped her hands convulsively and collapsed into a chair.
“Let’s get right out of here!” she wailed. “If wedon’t, we’ll all be killed and scalped. Oh, dear! Colonel, aren’t you going to do something to save your family?”
“My family is safe enough right here. Where’s Dell?”
“I haven’t seen her, colonel, since——”
At that moment Dell came hurriedly into the room. The colonel noticed that she had her revolvers in her belt-holsters. She was also carrying a pair of silver spurs.
“One good thing about me,” said she, “is that I travel light. Whenever I decide to make a move, I don’t usually have to rustle even my spurs or my hardware.”
Seating herself, she began buckling the spurs to her small heels.
“My goodness, child,” cried Mrs. Colonel, “what are you going to do?”
“Ride,” answered Dell, bending down and pulling at the spur-straps.
“Ride!” palpitated Mrs. Colonel, with a wild look at her husband. “Why, haven’t you heard Geronimo is loose, and that——”
“That’s why I’m going,” said Dell.
“You’re mad,” almost screamed Mrs. Colonel.
“The Double D Ranch isn’t in danger, Dell,” said the colonel.
“Not with the Double D boys to take care of the cattle and the ranch-house. I don’t think that for a minute.”
“Then why are you leaving us?”
“Because Buffalo Bill and his pardsmayhave escaped, and because, if they have or have not, they may need me. I told you I was Buffalo Bill’s girl pard.”
The colonel started back, astounded.
“What good can you do Buffalo Bill and his pards?” he demanded. “Cody is an old Indian-fighter, and so isNick Nomad. The little Piute, too, has been in the army, and all that an Apache knows he knows.”
“Nevertheless, colonel,” said Dell resolutely, “I’m going.”
“Madness! I’m boss here, and I command you to remain at the post.”
A steely glint came into Dell’s eyes.
“You’re boss of the military; but, as for the army, I don’t belong. I’m my own boss, colonel.”
The colonel braced himself.
“You’re the daughter of my old friend, and I shall not allow you to put yourself in peril.”
“Peril!” The girl laughed. “Do you think that peril and I are strangers? If you lived nearer the Double D, you’d find plenty to tell you that Dell Dauntless knows how to take care of herself.”
“Be reasonable, can’t you?” stormed the colonel, one eye on Mrs. Colonel, who was weeping copiously in a handkerchief.
“You don’t see my duty as I see it, that’s all,” said Dell. “Do you think I could rest easy a moment after the news received in that telegram?”
“I was a fool to tell you anything about it.”
“You were not, Colonel Grayson. You were just the good, generous friend to me that you have always been. Don’t make a fuss now,” she wheedled, pulling her gauntlets from the breast of her buckskin blouse and swiftly drawing them on. “Remember”—and with gauntleted hand she slapped at one of the holsters—“I have something to defend myself with.”
“Defend fiddlesticks! I’ll not have this folly perpetrated at Grant! What—what do you intend to do?”
“My room is over the porch,” explained Dell. “WhileI was up there, getting my spurs and my hardware, I overheard your talk with Captain Lund. Sergeant Patterson is going south to Bonita; I’m going with Sergeant Patterson.”
“Not if I can help it, or——”
A tramp of hoofs was heard in front.
“Sergeant Patterson, sir,” announced the orderly, in the doorway.
“Send him in,” answered the colonel gruffly.
While he was talking with the sergeant, giving him his despatches and certain other oral directions, Mrs. Colonel had thrown herself across the exit to prevent the departure of Dell.
Dell threw her arms about Mrs. Colonel, kissed her, and set her aside as easily as she would have moved a child.
“Don’t worry about me,please!” and Dell went out.
A moment later Patterson followed her.
“Where’s Dell?” demanded the colonel, whirling around.
“She’s—she’s gone!” answered Mrs. Colonel.
“Orderly,” champed the colonel, “to the stable, at once. See that Miss Dauntless, on no account, is allowed to saddle and ride off with her mount, Silver Heels—the white cayuse—everybody here knows the animal.”
“Sorry, sir,” announced the orderly, with a troubled look, “but the white cayuse was put under saddle at the same time Patterson’s mount was made ready.”
“What?”
“She asked me to have it done, calling out from an up-stairs window a moment after you and Captain Lund separated.”
“And you did it! What was done with the horse?”
“The sergeant brought Silver Heels along when he rode up to the porch, sir.”
The colonel rushed to the porch. Silver Heels was nowhere in sight, and neither was Dell. Patterson was just riding through the stockade gate.
“She’s gone, for sure!” growled the colonel. “Orderly, tell Lund and Hepburn to mount quickly and ride south, to overtake Miss Dauntless, if they can, and bring her back. Tell them to keep the trail for two hours, if need be.”
That night the colonel had little appetite for his supper. There was much to do, however, and he busied himself about it until eleven o’clock. By that time, Lund and Hepburn had returned.
Dell Dauntless was not with them.
“No luck, colonel,” reported Captain Lund. “Miss Dauntless got away from us.”
“She’ll have to go, then,” growled the colonel, tossing his hands. “Whoever heard of such a madcap?”
“I’ve been talkin’ with Pecos, the ’Pache scout, colonel,” said Lund, “and, personally, when a girl can do what she did while with Cody and his pards down near the Three-ply Mine, I don’t think there need be much worry on her account.”
“It doesn’t make any difference whether we need to worry or not,” went on the colonel; “she’s gone, and she got away from me. What would her father say if he were alive?”
“She’s a daring girl—and a pretty one,” and there was a far-away look in Lund’s eyes as he said it.
He was a bachelor.
“Too all-fired daring,” snorted the colonel, “but we’ve got business on our hands and can’t bother about Dell.”