CHAPTER VIA DISASTROUS DOZE
The two fellows were sound asleep when we turned out. They were lying in the sun, rolled up and with their faces covered to keep the light away. We didn't pay any attention to them, but had our wet rub and went ahead attending to camp duties. After a while one of them (Walt, it was) turned over, and wriggled, and threw the blanket off his face, and blinked about. He was bleary-eyed and sticky-faced, as if he had slept too hard but not long enough. And I didn't see how he had had enough air to breathe.
But he grinned, and yawned, and said: "You kids get up awful early. What time is it?"
"Six o'clock."
He-haw! And he yawned some more. Then he sat up and let his blanket go and kicked Bat. "Breakfast!" he shouted.
That made Bat grunt and grumble and wriggle; and finally uncover, too. They acted as if their mouths might taste bad, after the pipes.
We hadn't made a big fire, of course; but breakfast was about ready, on the little fire, and Fitzour cook sang out, according to our regulations: "Chuck!"
That was the camp's signal call.
"If you fellows want to eat with us, draw up and help yourselves," invited General Ashley.
"Sure," they answered; and they crawled out of their blankets, and got their pieces of bark, and opened their knives, and without washing their faces or combing their hair they fished into the dishes, for bacon and bread and sorghum and beans.
That was messy; but we wanted to be hospitable, so we didn't say anything.
"Where are you kids bound for, anyway?" asked Bat.
"Over the Divide," told General Ashley.
"Why can't we go along?"
That staggered us. They weren't our kind; and besides, we were all Boy Scouts, and our party was big enough as it was. So for a moment nobody answered. And then Walt spoke up.
"Aw, we won't hurt you any. What you afraid of? We aren't tenderfeet, and we'll do our share. We'll throw in our grub and we won't use your dishes. We've got our own outfit."
"I don't know. We'll have to vote on that," said General Ashley. "We're a Patrol of Boy Scouts, traveling on business."
"What's that—Boy Scouts?" demanded Bat.
We explained, a little.
"Take us in, then," said Walt. "We're good scouts—ain't we, Bat?"
But they weren't. They didn't know anything about Scouts and Scouts' work.
"We could admit you as recruits, on the march," said General Ashley. "But we can't swear you in."
"Aw, we'll join the gang now and you can swear us in afterwards," said Bat.
"Well," said General Ashley, doubtfully, "we'll take a vote."
We all drew off to one side, and sat in council. It seemed to me that we might as well let them in. That would be doing them a good turn, and we might help them to be clean and straight and obey the laws. Boys who seem mean as dirt, to begin with, often are turned into fine Scouts.
"Now we'll all vote just as we feel about it," said General Ashley. "One black-ball will keep them out. 'N' means 'No'; 'Y' means 'Yes.'"
The vote was taken by writing with a pencil on bits of paper, and the bits were put into General Ashley's hat. Everything was "Y"—and the vote was unanimous to let them join. So everybody must have felt the same about it as I did.
General Ashley reported to them. "You can come along," he said; "but you've got to be under discipline, the same as the rest of us. And if you prove to be Scouts' stuff you can be sworn in later.But I'm only a Patrol leader and I can't swear you."
"Sure!" they cried. "We'll be under discipline. Who's the boss? You?"
We had made a mistake. Here started our trouble. But we didn't know. We thought that we were doing the right thing by giving them a chance. You never can tell.
They volunteered to wash the dishes, and went at it; and we let them throw their blankets and whatever else they wanted to get rid of in with the packs. We were late; and anyway we didn't think it was best to start in fussing and disciplining; they would see how Scouts did, and perhaps they would catch on that way. Only—
"You'll have to cut that out," ordered General Ashley, as we were ready to set out. He meant their pipes. They had stuck them in their mouths and had lighted them.
"What? Can't we hit the pipe?" they both cried.
"Not with us," declared the general. "It's against the regulations."
"Aw, gee!" they complained. "That's the best part of camping—to load up the old pipe."
"Not for a Scout. He likes fresh air," answered General Ashley. "He needs his wind, too, and smoking takes the wind. Anyway, we're traveling through the enemy's country, and a pipesmells, and it's against Scout regulations to smoke."
They stuffed their pipes into their pockets.
"Who's the enemy?" they asked.
"We're carrying a message and some other boys are trying to stop us. That's all."
"We saw some kids, on the other side of that ridge," they cried. "They're from the same town you are. Are they the ones?"
"What did they look like?" we asked.
"One was a big kid with black eyes—" said Bat.
"Aw, he wasn't big. The big kid had blue eyes," interrupted Walt.
"How many in the party?" we asked.
"Four," said Bat.
"Five," said Walt.
"Any horses?"
"Yes."
"What were the brands?"
"We didn't notice," they said.
"Was one horse a bay with a white nose, and another a black with a bob tail?"
"Guess so," they said.
So we didn't know much more than we did before; we could only suspect. Of course, there were other parties of boys camping, in this country. We weren't the only ones. If Bat and Walt had been a little smart they might have helped us. They didn't use their eyes.
We followed the ridge we were on, as far as we could, because it was high and free from brush. General Ashley and Major Henry led, as usual, with the burros behind (those burros would follow now like dogs, where there wasn't any trail for them to pick out), and then the rest of us, the two recruits panting in the rear. Bat had belted on his big six-shooter, and Walt carried the shotgun.
We traveled fast, as usual, when we could; that gave us more time in the bad places. Pilot Peak stuck up, beyond some hills, ahead. We kept an eye on him, for he was our landmark, now that we had broken loose from trails. He didn't seem any nearer than he was the day before.
The ridge ended in a point, beyond which was a broad pasture-like meadow, with the creek winding in a semicircle through it. On across was a steep range of timber hills—and Pilot Peak and some other peaks rose beyond, with snow and rocks. In the flat a few cattle were grazing, like buffalo, and we could see an abandoned cabin which might have been a trapper's shack. It was a great scene; so free and peaceful and wild and gentle at the same time.
We weren't tired, but we halted by the stream in the flat to rest the burros and to eat something. We took off the packs, and built a little fire of dry sage, and made tea, while Sally and Apache took a good roll and then grazed on weeds and flowersand everything. This was fine, here in the sunshine, with the blue sky over and the timber sloping up on all sides, and the stream singing.
After we had eaten some bread and drunk some tea we Scouts rested, to digest; but Bat and Walt the two recruits loafed off, down the creek, and when they got away a little we could see them smoking. On top of that, they hadn't washed the dishes. So I washed them.
After a while they came back on the run, but they weren't smoking now. "Say!" they cried, excited. "We found some deer-tracks. Let's camp back on the edge of the timber, and to-night when the deer come down to drink we'll get one!"
That was as bad as shooting grouse. It wasn't deer season. They didn't seem to understand.
"Against the law," said General Ashley. "And we're on the march, to go through as quick as we can. It's time to pack."
"I'll pack one of those burros. I'll show you how," offered Bat. So we let them go ahead, because they might know more than we. They led up Sally, while Major Henry and Jed Smith and Kit Carson began to pack Apache. The recruits threw on the pack, all right, and passed the rope; but Sally moved because they were so rough, and Bat swore and kicked her in the stomach.
"Get around there!" he said.
"Here! You quit that," scolded Fitzpatrick,first. "That's no way to treat an animal." He was angry; we all were angry. (Note 29.)
"It's the way to treat this animal," retorted Bat. "I'll kick her head off if she doesn't stand still. See?"
"No, you won't," warned General Ashley.
"If you can pack a burro so well, pack her yourself, then," answered Walt.
"Fitzpatrick, you and Jim Bridger help me with Sally," ordered the general; and we did. We threw the diamond hitch in a jiffy and the pack stuck on as if it were glued fast.
The two recruits didn't have much more to say; but when we took up the march again they sort of sulked along, behind. We thought best to follow up the creek, through the flat, instead of making a straight climb of the timber beyond. That would have been hard work, and slow work, and you can travel a mile in the open in less time than you can travel half a mile through brush.
A cattle trail led up through the flat. This flat closed, and then opened by a little pass into another flat. We saw plenty of tracks where deer had come down to the creek and had drunk. There were tracks of bucks, and of does and of fawns. Walt and Bat kept grumbling and talking. They wanted to stop off and camp, and shoot.
Pilot Peak was still on our left; but toward evening the trail we were following turned off fromthe creek and climbed through gooseberry and thimbleberry bushes to the top of a plateau, where was a park of cedars and flowers, and where was a spring. General Ashley dug in with his heel, and we off-packs, to camp. It was a mighty good camping spot, again. (Note 30.) The timber thickened, beyond, and there was no sense in going on into it, for the night. Into the heel mark we stuck the flagstaff.
We went right ahead with our routine. The recruits had a chance to help, if they wanted to. But they loafed. There was plenty of time before sunset. The sun shone here half an hour or more longer than down below. We were up pretty high; some of the aspens had turned yellow, showing that there had been a frost, already. So we thought that we must be up about ten thousand feet. The stream we followed had flowed swift, telling of a steep grade.
Fitzpatrick the Bad Hand got out his camera, to take pictures. He never wasted any time. Not ordinary camp pictures, you know, but valuable pictures, of animals and sunsets and things. Jays and speckled woodpeckers were hopping about, and a pine-squirrel sat on a limb and scolded at us until he found that we were there to fit in and be company for him. One side of the plateau fell off into rocks and cliffs, and a big red ground-hog waslying out on a shelf in the sunset, and whistling his call.
Fitz was bound to have a picture of him, and sneaked around, to stalk him and snap him, close. But just as he was started—"Bang!" I jumped three feet; we all jumped. It was that fellow Bat. He had shot off his forty-five Colt's, at the squirrel, and with it smoking in his hand he was grinning, as if he had played a joke on us. He hadn't hit the squirrel, but it had disappeared. The ground-hog disappeared, the jays and the woodpeckers flew off, and after the report died away you couldn't hear a sound or see an animal. The gun had given notice to the wild life to vacate, until we were gone. And where that bullet hit, nobody could tell.
Fitzpatrick turned around and came back. He knew it wasn't much use trying, now. We were disgusted, but General Ashley was the one to speak, because he was Patrol leader.
"You ought not to do that. Shooting around camp isn't allowed," he said. "It's dangerous, and it scares things away."
"I wanted that squirrel. I almost hit him, too," answered Bat.
"Well, he was protected by camp law." (Note 31.)
"Aw, all you kids are too fresh," put in Walt, the other. "We'll shoot as much as we please, or else we'll pull out."
"If you can't do as the rest of us do, all right: pull," answered the general.
"Let them. We don't want them," said Major Henry. "We didn't ask them in the first place. What's the sense in carrying a big revolver around, and playing tough!"
"That will do, Henry," answered the general. "I'm talking for the Patrol."
"Come on, Walt. We'll take our stuff and pull out and make our own camp," said Bat. "We won't be bossed by any red-headed kid—or any one-armed kid, either." He was referring to the gun and to the burro packing, both.
Major Henry began to sputter and growl. A black-eyed boy is as spunky as a red-headed one. And we all stood up, ready, if there was to be a fight. But there wasn't. It wasn't necessary. General Ashley flushed considerably, but he kept his temper.
"That's all right," he said. "If you can't obey discipline, like the rest, you don't camp with us."
"And we don't intend to, you bet," retorted Walt. "We're as good as you are and a little better, maybe. We're no tenderfeet!"
They gathered their blankets and their frying-pan and other outfit, and they stalked off about a hundred yards, further into the cedars, and dumped their things for their own camp.
Maybe they thought that we'd try to make themget out entirely, but we didn't own the place; it was a free camp for all, and as long as they didn't interfere with us we had no right to interfere with them. We made our fire and they started theirs; and then I was sent out to hunt for meat again.
I headed away from camp, and I got one rabbit and a great big ground-hog. Some people won't eat ground-hog, but they don't know what is good; only, he must be cleaned right away. Well, I was almost at camp again when "Whish! Bang!" somebody had shot and had spattered all around me, stinging my ear and rapping me on the coat and putting a couple of holes in my hat. I dropped flat, in a hurry.
"Hey!" I yelled. "Look out there! What you doing?"
But it was "Bang!" again, and more shot whizzing by; this time none hit me. Now I ran and sat behind a rock. And after a while I made for camp, and I was glad to reach it.
I was still some stirred up about being peppered, and so I went straight to the other fire. The two fellows were there cleaning a couple of squirrels.
"Who shot them?" I asked.
"Walt."
"And he nearly filled me full of holes, too," I said. "Look at my hat."
"Who nearly filled you full of holes?" asked Walt.
"You did."
"Aw, I didn't, either. I wasn't anywhere near you."
"You were, too," I answered, hot. "You shot right down over the hill, and when I yelled at you, you shot again."
Walt was well scared.
"'Twasn't me," he said. "I saw you start out and I went opposite."
"Well, you ought to be careful, shooting in the direction of camp," I said.
"Didn't hurt you."
"It might have put my eyes out, just the same." And I had to go back and clean my game and gun. We had a good supper. The other fellows kept to their own camp and we could smell them smoking cigarettes. With them close, and with news that another crowd was out, we were obliged to mount night guard.
There was no use in two of us staying awake at the same time, and we divided the night into four watches—eight to eleven, eleven to one, one to three, three to five. The first watch was longest, because it was the easiest watch. We drew lots for the partners who would sleep all night, and Jed Smith and Major Henry found they wouldn't have to watch. We four others would.
Fitz went on guard first, from eight to eleven. At eleven he would wake Carson, and would crawlinto Carson's place beside of General Ashley. At one Carson would wake me, and would crawl into my place where I was alone. And at three I would wake General Ashley and crawl into his place beside Fitz again. So we would disturb each other just as little as possible and only at long intervals. (Note 32.)
It seemed to me that I had the worst watch of all—from one to three; it broke my night right in two. Of course a Scout takes what duty comes, and says nothing. But jiminy, I was sleepy when Carson woke me and I had to stagger out into the dark and the cold. He cuddled down in a hurry into my warm nest and there I was, on guard over the sleeping camp, here in the timber far away from lights or houses or people.
The fire was out, but I could see by star shine. Low in the west was a half moon, just sinking behind the mountains there. Down in the flat which we had left coyotes were barking. Maybe they smelled fawns. Somebody was snoring. That was fatty Jed Smith. He and Major Henry were having a fine sleep. So were all the rest, under the whity tarps which looked ghostly and queer.
And I went to sleep, too!
That was awful, for a Scout on guard. I don't know why I couldn't keep awake, but I couldn't. I tried every way. I rubbed my eyes, and I dipped water out of the spring and washed my face, andI dropped the blanket I was wearing, so that I would be cold. And I walked in a circle. Then I thought that maybe if I sat down with the blanket about me, I would be better off. So I sat down. If I could let my eyes close for just a second, to rest them, I would be all right. And they did close—and when I opened them I was sort of toppled over against the tree, and was stiff and astonished—and it was broad morning and I hadn't wakened General Ashley!
I staggered up as quick as I could. I looked around. Things seemed to be O. K. and quiet and peaceful—but suddenly I missed the flags, and then I missed the burros!
Yes, sir! The flagstaff was gone, leaving the hole where it had been stuck. And the burros were gone, picket ropes and all! The place where they ought to be appeared mighty vacant. And now I sure was frightened. I hustled to the camp of the two boys, Bat and Walt, and they were gone. That looked bad.
My duty now was to arouse our camp and give the alarm, so I must wake General Ashley. You can imagine how I hated to. I almost was sore because he hadn't waked up, himself, at three o'clock, instead of waiting for me and letting me sleep.
But I shook him, and he sat up, blinking. I saluted. "It's after four o'clock," I reported, "and I slept on guard and the flags and the burros are gone." And then I wanted to cry, but I didn't.
CHAPTER VIIHELD BY THE ENEMY
"Oh, the dickens!" stammered General Ashley; and out he rolled, in a hurry. He didn't stop to blame me. "Have you looked for sign?"
"The burros might have strayed, but the flags couldn't and only the hole is there. And those two fellows of the other camp are gone, already."
General Ashley began to pull on his shoes and lace them.
"Rouse the camp," he ordered.
So I did. And to every one I said: "I slept on guard and the flags and the burros are gone."
I was willing to be shot, or discharged, or anything; and I didn't have a single solitary excuse. I didn't try to think one up.
The general took Fitzpatrick, who is our best trailer, and Major Henry, and started in to work out the sign, while the rest of us hustled with breakfast. The ground about the flag hole was trampled and not much could be done there; and not much could be done right where the burros had stood, because we all from both camps had been roaming around. But the general and Fitz and MajorHenry circled, wider and wider, watching out for burro tracks pointing back down the trail, or else out into the timber. The hoofs of the burros would cut in, where the feet of the two fellows might not have left any mark. Pretty soon the burro tracks were found, and boot-heels, too; and while Fitzpatrick followed the trail a little farther the general and Major Henry came back to the camp. Breakfast was ready.
"Fitzpatrick and Jim Bridger and I will take the trail of the burros, and you other three stay here," said General Ashley. "If we don't come back by morning, or if you don't see smoke-signals from us that we're all right, you cache the stuff and come after us."
That was splendid of the general to give me a chance to make good on the trail. It was better than if he'd ordered me close in camp, or had not paid any attention to me.
Fitz returned, puffing. He had followed the trail a quarter of a mile and it grew plainer as the two fellows had hurried more. We ate a big breakfast (we three especially, I mean), and prepared for the trail. We tied on our coats in a roll like blankets, but we took no blankets, for we must travel light. We stuffed some bread and chocolate into our coat pockets, and we were certain that we had matches and knife. I took the short bow and arrows, as game getter; but we left the rifle for thecamp. We would not have used a rifle, anyway. It made noise; and we must get the burros by Scoutcraft alone. But those burros we would have, and the flags. The general slung one of the Patrol's ropes about him, in case we had to rope the burros.
We set right out, Fitzpatrick leading, as chief trailer. Much depended upon our speed, and that is why we traveled light; for you never can follow a trail as fast as it was made, and we must overtake those fellows by traveling longer. They were handicapped by the burros, though, which helped us.
We planned to keep going, and eat on the march, and by night sneak on the camp.
The trail wasn't hard to follow. Burro tracks are different from cow tracks and horse tracks and deer tracks; they are small and oblong—narrow like a colt's hoof squeezed together or like little mule tracks. The two fellows used the cattle trail, and Fitzpatrick read the sign for us.
"They had to lead the burros," he said. "The burros' tracks are on top of the sole tracks."
We hurried. And then—
"Now they're driving 'em," he said. "They're stepping on top of the burro tracks; and I think that they're all on the trot, too, by the way the burros' hind hoofs overlap the front hoofs, and dig in."
We hurried more, at Scout pace, which is trotting and walking mixed. And next—
"Now they've got on the burros," said Fitz. "There aren't any sole tracks and the burros' hoofs dig deeper."
The fellows surely were making time. I could imagine how they kicked and licked Sally and Apache, to hasten. And while we hastened, too, we must watch the signs and be cautious that we didn't overrun or get ambushed. Where the sun shone we could tell that the sign was still an hour or more old, because the edges of the hoof-marks were baked hard; and sticks and stones turned up had dried. And in the shade the bits of needles and grass stepped on had straightened a little. And there were other signs, but we chose those which we could read the quickest. (Note 33.)
We were high up among cedars and bushes, on a big mesa. There were cattle, here, and grassy parks for them. Most of the cattle bore a Big W brand. The trail the cattle had made kept dividing and petering out, and we had to pick the one that the burros took. The fellows were riding, still, but not at a trot so much. Maybe they thought that we had been left, by this time. Pretty soon the burros had been grabbing at branches and weeds, which showed that they were going slower, and were hungry; and the fellows had got off andwere walking. The sun was high and the air was dry, so that the signs were not so easy to read, and we went slower, too. The country up here grew open and rocky, and at last we lost the trail altogether. That was bad. The general and I circled and scouted, at the sides, and Fitz went on ahead, to pick it up beyond, maybe. Pretty soon we heard him whistle the Elks' call.
He had come out upon a rocky point. The timber ended, and before and right and left was a great rolling valley, of short grasses and just a few scattered trees, with long slopes holding it like a cup. The sun was shining down, and the air was clear and quivery.
"I see them," said Fitz. "There they are, General—in a line between us and that other point of rocks."
Hurrah! This was great news. Sure enough, when we had bent low and sneaked to the rocks, and were looking, we could make out two specks creeping up the sunshine slope, among the few trees, opposite.
That was good, and it was bad. The thieves were not a mile ahead of us, then, but now we must scout in earnest. It would not do for us to keep to the trail across that open valley. Some fellows might have rushed right along; and if the other fellows were sharp they would be looking back, at such a spot, to watch for pursuers. So we mustmake a big circuit, and stay out of sight, and hit the trail again on the other side.
We crept back under cover, left a "warning" sign on the trail (Note 34), and swung around, and one at a time we crossed the valley higher up, where it was narrower and there was brush for cover. This took time, but it was the proper scouting; and now we hurried our best along the other slope to pick up the trail once more.
It was after noon, by the sun, and we hadn't stopped to eat, and we were hungry and hot and pretty tired.
As we never talked much on the trail, especially when we might be near the enemy, Fitzpatrick made a sign that we climb straight to the top of the slope and follow along there, to strike the trail. And if the fellows had turned off anywhere, in gulch or to camp, we were better fixed above them than below them.
We scouted carefully along this ridge, and came to a gulch. A path led through, where cattle had traveled, and in the damp dirt were the burro tracks. Hurrah! They were soft and fresh.
The sun was going to set early, in a cloud bank, and those fellows would be camping soon. It was no use to rush them when they were traveling; they had guns and would hang on to the burros. The way to do was to crawl into their camp. So we traveled slower, in order to give them time to camp.
After a while we smelled smoke. The timber was thick, and the general and I each climbed a tree, to see where that smoke came from. I was away at the top of a pine, and from that tree the view was grand. Pilot Peak stood up in the wrong direction, as if we had been going around, and mountains and timber were everywhere. I saw the smoke. And away to the north, ten miles, it seemed to me I could see another smoke, with the sun showing it up. It was a column smoke, and I guessed that it was a smoke signal set by the three Scouts we had left, to show us where camp was.
But the smoke that we were after rose in a blue haze above the trees down in a little park about a quarter of a mile on our right. We left a "warning" sign, and stalked the smoke.
Although Fitzpatrick has only one whole arm, he can stalk as well as any of us. We advanced cautiously, and could smell the smoke stronger and stronger; we began to stoop and to crawl and when we had wriggled we must halt and listen. We could not hear anybody talking.
The general led, and Fitz and I crawled behind him, in a snake scout. I think that maybe we might have done better if we had stalked from three directions. Everything was very quiet, and when we could see where the fire ought to be we made scarcely a sound. The general brushed out of his way any twigs that would crack.
It was a fine stalk. We approached from behind a cedar, and parting the branches the general looked through. He beckoned to us, and we wriggled along and looked through. There was a fire, and our flags stuck beside it, and Sally and Apache standing tied to a bush, and blankets thrown down—but not anybody at home! The two fellows must be out fishing or hunting, and this seemed a good chance.
The general signed. We all were to rush in, Fitz would grab the flag, and I a burro and the general a burro, and we would skip out and travel fast, across country.
I knew that by separating and turning and other tricks we would outwit those two kids, if we got any kind of a start.
We listened, holding our breath. Nobody seemed near. Now was the time. The general stood, Fitz and I stood, and in we darted. Fitz grabbed the flag, and I was just hauling at Sally while the general slashed the picket-ropes with his knife, when there rose a tremendous yell and laugh and from all about people charged in on us.
Before we could escape we were seized. They were eight to our three. Two of them were the two kids Bat and Walt, and the other six were town fellows—Bill Duane, Tony Matthews, Bert Hawley, Mike Delavan, and a couple more.
How they whooped! We felt cheap. Thecamp had been a trap. The two kids Bat and Walt had come upon the other crowd accidentally, and had told about us and that maybe we were trailing them, and they all had ambushed us. We ought to have reconnoitered more, instead of thinking about stalking. We ought to have been more suspicious, and not have underestimated the enemy. (Note 35.) This was just a made-to-order camp. The camp of the town gang was about three hundred yards away, lower, in another open place, by a creek. They tied our arms and led us down there.
"Aw, we thought you fellers were Scouts!" jeered Bat. "You're easy."
He and Walt took the credit right to themselves.
"What do you want with us?" demanded General Ashley, of Bill Duane. "We haven't done anything to harm you."
"We'll show you," said Bill. "First we're going to skin you, and then we're going to burn you at the stake, and then we're going to kill you."
Of course we knew that he was only fooling; but it was a bad fix, just the same. They might keep us, for meanness; and Major Henry and Kit Carson and Jed Smith wouldn't know exactly what to do and we'd be wasting valuable time. That was the worst: we were delaying the message! And I had myself to blame for this, because I went to sleep on guard. A little mistake may lead to a lot of trouble.
And now the worst happened. When they got us to the main camp Bill Duane walked up to General Ashley and said: "Where you got that message, Red?"
"What message?" answered General Ashley.
"Aw, get out!" laughed Bill. "If we untie you will you fork it over or do you want me to search you?"
"'Tisn't your message, and if I had it I wouldn't give it to you. But you'd better untie us, just the same. And we want those burros and our flags."
"Hold him till I search him, fellows," said Bill. "He's got it, I bet. He's the Big Scout."
Fitz and I couldn't do a thing. One of the gang put his arm under the general's chin and held him tight, and Bill Duane went through him. He didn't find the message in any pockets; but he saw the buckskin thong, and hauled on it, and out came the packet from under the general's shirt.
Bill put it in his own pocket.
"There!" he said. "Now what you going to do about it?"
The general was as red all over as his hair and looked as if he wanted to fight or cry. Fitz was white and red in spots, and I was so mad I shook.
"Nothing, now," said the general, huskily. "You don't give us a chance to do anything. You're a lot of cowards—tying us up and searching us, and taking our things."
"BILL DUANE WENT THROUGH HIM.""BILL DUANE WENT THROUGH HIM."
Then they laughed at us some more, and all jeered and made fun, and said that they would take the message through for us. I tell you, it was humiliating, to be bound that way, as prisoners, and to think that we had failed in our trust. As Scouts we had been no good—and I was to blame just because I had fallen asleep at my post.
They were beginning to quit laughing at us, and were starting to get supper, when suddenly I heard horse's hoofs, and down the bridle path that led along an edge of the park rode a man. He heard the noise and he saw us tied, I guess, for he came over.
"What's the matter here?" he asked.
The gang calmed down in a twinkling. They weren't so brash, now.
"Nothin'," said Bill.
"Who you got here? What's the rumpus?" he insisted.
"They've taken us prisoners and are keeping us, and they've got our burros and flags and a message," spoke up the general.
He was a small man with a black mustache and blackish whiskers growing. He rode a bay horse with a K Cross on its right shoulder, and the saddle had brass-bound stirrups. He wore a black slouch hat and was in black shirt-sleeves, and ordinary pants and shoes.
"What message?" he asked.
"A message we were carrying."
"Where?"
"Across from our town to Green Valley."
"Why?"
"Just for fun."
"Aw, that's a lie. They were to get twenty-five dollars for doing it on time. Now we cash it in ourselves," spoke Bill. "It was a race, and they don't make good. See?"
That was a lie, sure. We weren't to be paid a cent—and we didn't want to be paid.
"Who's got the message now?" asked the man.
"He has," said the general, pointing at Bill.
"Let's see it."
Bill backed away.
"I ain't, either," he said. Which was another lie.
"Let's see it," repeated the man. "I might like to make that twenty-five dollars myself."
Now Bill was sorry he had told that first lie. The first is the one that gives the most trouble.
"Who are you?" he said, scared, and backing away some more.
"Never you mind who I am," answered the man—biting his words off short; and he rode right for Bill. He stuck his face forward. It was hard and dark and mean. "Hand—over—that—message. Savvy?"
Bill was nothing but a big bluff and a coward.You would have known that he was a coward, by the lies he had told and by the way he had attacked us. He wilted right down.
"Aw, I was just fooling," he said. "I was going to give it back to 'em. Here 'tis. There ain't no prize offered, anyhow." And he handed it to the man.
The man turned it over in his fingers. We watched. We hoped he'd make them untie us and he'd pass it to us and tell us to skip. But after he had turned it over and over, he smiled, kind of grimly, and stuck it in his hip pocket.
"I reckon I'd like to make that twenty-five dollars myself," he said. And then he rode to one side, and dismounted; he loosened the cinches and made ready as if to camp. And they all let him.
Now, that was bad for us, again. The gang had our flags and our burros, and he had our message.
"That's our message. We're carrying it through just for fun and for practice," called the general. "It's no good to anybody except us."
"Bueno," said the man—which is Mexican or Spanish for "Good." He was squatting and building a little fire.
"Aren't you going to give it to us and make them let us go?"
He grunted. "Don't bother me. I'm busy."
That was all we could get out of him. Now itwas growing dark and cold. The gang was grumbling and accusing Bill of being "bluffed" and all that, but they didn't make any effort to attack the man. They all were afraid of him; they didn't have nerve. They just grumbled and talked of what Bill ought to have done, and proceeded to cook supper and to loaf around. Our hands were behind our backs and we were tied like dogs to trees.
And suddenly, while watching the man, I noticed that he was doing things left-handed, and quick as a wink I saw that the sole of his left shoe was worn through! And if he wasn't riding a roan horse, he was riding a saddle with brass-bound stirrups, anyway. A man may trade horses, but he keeps to his own saddle. This was the beaver man! We three Scouts exchanged signs of warning.
"You aren't going to tie us for all night, are you?" demanded Fitzpatrick.
"Sure," said Bill.
"We'll give you our parole not to try to escape," offered General Ashley.
"What's that?"
"We'll promise," I explained.
Then they all jeered.
"Aw, promise!" they laughed. "We know all about your promises."
"Scouts don't break their promises," answeredthe general, hot. "When we give our parole we mean it. And if we decided to try to escape we'd tell you and take the parole back. We want to be untied so we can eat."
"All right. We'll untie you," said Bill; and I saw him wink at the other fellows.
They did. They loosened our hands—but they put ropes on our feet! We could just walk, and that is all. And Walt (he and Bat were cooking) poked the fire with our flagstaff. Then he sat on the flags! I tell you, we were angry!
"This doesn't count," sputtered the general, red as fury.
"You gave us your parole if we'd untie you," jeered Bill. "And we did."
"But you tied us up again."
"We didn't say anything about that. You said if we'd untie you, so you could eat, you wouldn't run away. Well, we untied you, didn't we?"
"That isn't fair. You know what we meant," retorted Fitz.
"We know what you said," they laughed.
"Aw, cut it out," growled the man, from his own fire. "You make too much noise. I'm tired."
"Chuck," called Walt, for supper.
They stuck us between them, and we all ate. Whew, but it was a dirty camp. The dishes weren't clean and the stuff to eat was messy, and the fellows all swore and talked as bad as theycould. It was a shame—and it seemed a bigger shame because here in the park everything was intended to be quiet and neat and ought to make you feelgood.
After supper they quarreled as to who would wash the dishes, and finally one washed and one wiped, and the rest lay around and smoked pipes and cigarettes. Over at his side of the little park the man had rolled up and was still. But I knew that he was watching, because he was smoking, too.
We couldn't do anything, even if we had planned to. We might have untied the ropes on our feet, but the gang sat close about us. Then, they had the flags and the burros, and the man had the message; and if they had been wise they would have known that we wouldn't go far. Of course, we might have hung about and bothered them.
They made each of us sleep with one of them. They had some dirty old quilts, and we all rolled up.