But as Ted Strong fell to the floor there was a rush through the hall, and in a moment he was surrounded by the broncho boys, who held the door while Bud and Ben picked Ted up and laid him on a sofa.
As he was laid down Ted opened his eyes.
"Barricade that door with the furniture," he commanded. "Never mind me. I'm all right. Defend the house first. We must not let the thieves get Helen Mowbray's property."
While several of the fellows held their shoulders to the door, which was bulging with the power without to force it in, Bud and Ben carried a heavy sideboard across the room and placed it against the door.
This held it for a while until other heavy articles made it secure.
They had no more than finished their work when a shot crashed through a pane of glass in the dining room in which Ted lay, attended by Stella, who was trying to stanch the blood from a wound in his side.
Kit gave a muffled groan, and put his hand to his arm. The blood was trickling through his fingers.
"Keep out of range of the windows everybody," shouted Ted, from the lounge.
"Them fellers is quick an' peevish!" shouted Bud. "I'm goin' ter git one er two, shore's my name ain't John Henry Thomas Quackenbush."
There was a stairway in the hall, and Bud went up the steps three at a time.
They heard his step overhead, then his voice in a roar of angry surprise.
"Jumpin' sand-hill fleas!" he yelled. "So that's yer game, is it?"
Outside there was a crash, and through the window they saw a falling ladder; then two men hurtling through the air.
In a moment there was a thud on the earth, and yells of agony.
"They were trying to surprise us from above, but good old Bud got there in time to fool them," said Ted. "Bully for him. Ben, go up and help him. He may need it."
Several shots outside broke the silence that followed the fall of the ladder, and the breaking of glass in the upper windows.
Then came a fusillade in the upper rooms.
"Bud and Ben are giving them as good as they send," muttered Ted.
From the yells that came from the garden the shots from above had evidently done some execution, for they were followed by a rush of feet, then silence.
"Look out, Kit," said Ted, "and see what's doing. But be careful; do not expose yourself."
"No one in sight," said Kit, peering around the corner of the window casing, having first put his hat in an exposed position to draw fire if there were any sharpshooters on guard outside.
"Wait! Great Scott, they're going to set fire to the house!" yelled Kit, running from the room.
In spite of the protestations of Stella, Ted staggered to his feet and followed Kit.
He swayed from weakness as he ran, but appeared to grow stronger with the excitement.
Two men had rushed to the shelter of the side of the house, and were now safe from shots from the windows.
One of them had trundled before him a tar barrel, while the other had his arms full of shavings.
This was the sight that had caused Kit's exclamation.
"Gee whiz, this is bad," said Kit. "In a minute they'll have the stuff blazing, and the house will go in this wind as if it was made of oiled paper. What are we to do?"
Ted, who was holding himself up against a table to keep from falling, thought a moment.
"They're watching for us to stick our heads out of a window to take a shot at those fire bugs, and, if we do, that's the end," said Ted to himself. "But we must get them before the house catches."
Suddenly he straightened up. A spasm of pain crossed his face, and he clutched his side.
"Ted, you must not exert yourself," said Stella, springing toward him. "Ted, remember you are wounded; you do not know how badly."
"I'm all right," answered Ted, with a grim smile. "Let me alone for a while, Stella. Then you can fuss over me all you like. I've got to think of some way to circumvent those devils."
Suddenly he drew his revolver from its holster.
"I have it," he said briskly. "It's taking a risk, but it must be done. If they set the house afire it's all off with us. Kit, stand ready to throw open the door when I give the word. Then shield me from shots from the shrubbery on the opposite side of the garden. The gang is hiding behind those bushes."
"What are you going to do?" asked Stella breathlessly.
"I'm going out to stop those fellows with the tar barrel."
"You are not. I will not let you," cried Stella.
Ted gave Stella a peculiar look that she had never seen in his face before, and she rather quailed from it, it was so full of authority and force.
"Sorry, Stella, to do anything against your wishes," he said quietly. "But some one must do it, and Kit is wounded in his pistol arm, and the other boys are busy."
"Oh, fiddle!" cried Stella. "You are wounded yourself."
"But I'm going, just the same. Stand ready, Kit."
Kit sprang to the door.
Already they could smell the burning tar.
"Hi, deir der puilding firing up alretty," shouted Carl, bursting into the room, pale with apprehension.
"All right, Carl. Stand back from the door, and do as Kit tells you," said Ted. Then, with a look at Stella, which seemed to ask her forgiveness for acting against her wishes, he got ready for a rush.
"Open!" he yelled.
Kit threw the door wide, and Ted Strong sprang out into the garden, and ran swiftly along toward the rear, keeping close to the wall.
He was firing toward the shrubbery as he ran, and those on guard inside heard yells of agony.
Evidently Ted was making good with his bullets.
There came a return fire from the shrubbery, directed not at the open door, but at the flying figure of Ted.
Stella, Kit, and Carl poured a hot fusillade into the bushes, but did not seem able to silence the fire from them.
Then Stella did a foolhardy thing. Without a word of warning she leaped through the doorway, and stood on the step outside, looking after Ted.
She saw him running weakly toward the corner of the house, where two men were bending over the tar barrel, into which they had put the shavings.
They had set fire to the shavings, and were lifting the barrel to place it against the side of the house.
And now the barrel was blazing like a gasoline torch, and the flame was licking the side of the house.
But Ted was upon them. They did not see him, as their backs were toward him, and in a minute both had gone sprawling over the barrel, falling in a heap on the ground.
In a flash Ted had sent the barrel rolling down the yard, and with a piece of canvas, which he had picked up from the ground, was beating out the flames which were creeping up the side of the house.
But the men were on their feet now, and, seeing the cause of their discomfiture, they ran toward Ted with howls of rage, and reached his side as Stella, who had started toward Ted when she saw that the men were about to attack him, was still some distance off.
Ted was not aware of the presence of the men until they were directly behind him. Then he turned, only to be met with a blow on the head with the butt of a pistol, and he sank to the ground with a groan.
Meanwhile, Kit, whose duty it was to cover Ted's attack on the house burners from the doorway, was not able to get a shot because Stella's body was between him and the corner of the house.
As Ted went down with a groan Stella drew her revolver and blazed away.
At her first shot one of the men ran off, limping and yelping like a kicked cur.
The other, conscious that the bullets from her revolver were singing unpleasantly near to his head, made a dash for the shrubbery.
Bending over Ted, Stella tried to see how badly he was hurt.
"You reckless boy," she was saying. "See how you run into danger. Now you have two wounds for me to nurse, if you are not killed."
She was trying to lift him to a sitting posture when she felt herself grasped around the waist, and before she could make a motion in her own defense, was borne swiftly across the yard, and into the shrubbery.
Her scream rang out piercingly, and the boys ran in a body into the garden.
But by the time they got there Stella was out of sight, and they were met with a fusillade of bullets from the shrubbery, causing them to retreat into the house again and close the door.
None of them had noticed Ted lying unconscious at the corner of the house.
They were no sooner out of sight than three men sped from the shrubbery across the yard, and, seizing Ted by the heels and shoulders, ran back with him into the place of concealment.
As they threw Ted down on the grass none too gently, the pain brought him back to life and wrung a groan from him.
When he opened his eyes he saw Stella sitting beside him trying to hold his head from the ground.
Several men were there, too, lying flat, peering underneath the shrubbery toward the house.
Every man was armed either with a rifle or a revolver, and occasionally one or the other of them would fire a shot at the house, which would be answered by the boys.
"They fire too high," muttered Ted to himself, "because they do not know that these rascals are lying flat. Every ball goes a foot too high. Wish I could let them know, but then they would probably hit Stella or me."
Lying beside him was Burk, the deputy marshal, his greenish-gray eyes looking coldly at the house, and whenever he saw a chance for a shot his rifle flew to his shoulder.
He became conscious that Ted was looking at him, and turned with a grin on his face.
"So we got you at last, eh?" he said to Ted, with a sneer. "You thought you could put this thing through because you are a deputy United States marshal, did you? Well, you won't be a marshal much longer."
"I think I'll be longer at the job than you will," Ted replied slowly.
"Not after your attempt to loot a dead woman's house while her body still lies there under guard of a United States officer."
This caused Ted to think of the situation in a different light. True, he believed that Burk was a crook, and that it was he who was conspiring to rob the house, but he had authority on his side, while Ted's belief, after all, was based on surmise, and he would have difficulty in proving anything criminal against the marshal. At the same time, he did not fear for his own part in the affair, because behind him was the brother of the dead woman.
"I say, Burk, I'm tired of this nonsense, lying here and potting away at the house," said a drawling voice, the owner of which could not be seen, being hidden behind the shrubbery.
"Can't help it," answered Burk. "We've got to take our time. The house is full of them, and they can shoot some."
"Rot! So can we. I propose that we rush them. But first I want the pleasure of putting my revolver against the head of that young bully there and the girl, and getting rid of them. Think what's at stake. We must get away from here soon."
"Don't talk nonsense," growled Burk, in reply.
"I'm getting tired of it, I tell you. Three of our men are wounded now, and that red-headed beggar is going to die, and he was such a good cook."
The speaker laughed unpleasantly at his gruesome joke.
"Well, we can't do it now, because we don't know how they're situated. We'd have had them when they all rushed out a few minutes ago if you hadn't shot at them so soon, and driven them indoors again. Why didn't you let them get into the open, where we could have shot them down?"
Stella shuddered at the cold-blooded tone in which these men discussed the killing of the boys, but Ted only smiled, for he knew that Burk was at heart a coward, and that he did not care to rush, nor would he stand a rush should one come.
He wished he was back in the house and knew the enemy's situation as well as he did now. He would not give them time to run very far.
If he could communicate to the boys in some manner the exact situation, he felt confident that the thing would be over in a very short time.
"I say, Strong, I've a proposition to make to you," said Burk, after a silence.
"Well, out with it," said Ted coldly.
"There's no use of any more of us being hurt or killed," said Burk, looking at Ted out of the corner of his eye.
"Then why don't you quit shooting and vamose?"
"That's not for me to do," said Burk hotly.
"Oh, I see. You want us to quit, eh?"
"Sure. You're the fellows who broke in there over our guard. But if you'll call your fellows off and get out of the house, I'll agree to turn you and the young lady loose. But nothing must be taken from the house."
"That seems right generous of you," said Ted, with a sarcastic smile, which Burk didn't see because his head was turned the other way.
"It's a darned more than you deserve, but I don't want any more of my fellows shot up."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Just step out there and holler to your boys to quit firing, and tell them that you're going to quit, and then——"
Ted just laughed, and Burk turned upon him with a scowl.
At that moment there was a cheer from the direction of the house; then a few scattering shots from the men in the shrubbery.
Ted heard the doors of the house open, and the swift patter of running feet. The old Moon Valley yell was in his ears. All the men in the shrubbery had sprung to their feet, and were running wildly about. A man crawled through the bushes—the man with the face he had seen at the window.
As he crawled close to Ted the expression of his face was awful to contemplate.
Such fiendish, murderous hatred he had never seen in a human countenance before.
When he was so close to Ted that he could hear his feverish breathing, the man suddenly thrust forward a pistol until the muzzle was within an inch of Ted's head.
Ted struggled to grapple with him, but he had grown so stiff from his wound that he could hardly stir. He was looking death close in the face.
The man was just about to pull the trigger when close at hand the major's voice rang out in an exclamation of amazement:
"Mowbray! You here?"
The man with the pistol sprang to his feet and faced Major Caruthers for a second. Then, with a wild cry of fear, he sprang away through the shrubbery and escaped.
By the time one could have counted ten there was not a man of Burk's force in sight, but, on looking down the road where it led to the plain that lay before the mountains, the dust of their retreat hung in the air.
"We've got 'em on ther run," said Bud, throwing his hat into the air with a joyous yawp. "Sufferin' tomcats, but them fellers has their nerve, aber nit."
Ben and the major had carried Ted into the house, and the major, who was a good surgeon, had Ted's coat off and was examining his wound.
When the shot had been fired through the door at him the ball had been deflected by a piece of iron, and, instead of penetrating his heart, as it surely would have done otherwise, it struck a rib and ran around toward the back, coming out near the spine, and, although an extremely painful wound, it was not at all serious.
A ball had passed through the fleshy part of Kit's forearm, but when the major had washed it in warm water and dressed it, it ceased to pain, and he could use it handily. But Ted's wound was different, and the impact of the ball on the rib had made him so sore that he could not breathe without suffering agony.
Stella had one of the boys make a fire for her, and, having found the house well stored with provisions, she began to cook supper for them, for they were all tired and hungry.
It was evening before they knew it, and it was decided to stay at the house all night, keeping a careful guard against the return of Burk and Mowbray.
"I never was so surprised in my life as when I saw Mowbray in the bushes out there just in the act of murdering you," said the major after supper, as he sat on the sofa beside Ted.
"It was a surprising meeting," said Ted. "I had no idea he was in this part of the country. His was the face I saw at the window when we had all that money and gold and jewels out."
"Then he knows we have found it?"
"Sure. He knows we have it, and if he is the chap I think he is, he'll not rest until he gets it, or—something else."
"Meaning?"
"Death or imprisonment."
"He richly deserves either, or both. He made the life of my sister most unpleasant."
"By the way, major, what do you know about him? It might be handy to know something in the future if he tries to make trouble."
"Precious little."
"Oh, by the way, have you looked into that packet I took from the safe and handed you? The one addressed to your father, I take it, or to yourself."
"Haven't thought of it until now. Must take a look at it, by Jove. It may tell us a lot we want to know."
The major pulled the envelope from his pocket, and after examining the writing on it closely for a moment tore off the end of it and drew out several business-like documents.
"You'll excuse me, Strong, while I look these over, won't you?" he said.
"Certainly. Don't mind me," replied Ted, sinking back comfortably among the cushions.
As the major's eyes traveled over the documents they began to light up with a new intelligence. Then a look of pain followed, and the tears ran slowly down his cheeks.
Finally he turned to Ted:
"It is her will, and some history of her adventures in this country since she left home, and an account of the abuse and indignities heaped upon her by her husband, Mowbray, from whom she was divorced some months ago."
"Then Mowbray has no right to her property?"
"Not a penny's worth. I shall not bore you by reading all she says on the subject. She tells how he beat her after stealing from her all he could. Then she goes on to tell of his crimes."
"He is a bad egg, then," said Ted, as the major paused.
"You would scarcely believe how bad he was if I were to read the story of his career."
"I suppose he had been bothering her since in order to get more money from her."
"Yes, she says that he made her life miserable, and that he often threatened to kill her if she didn't give him all she had."
"Hearing of her death, he came here to steal everything he could lay his hands on; is that it? But I don't quite see why the authorities here, knowing of her divorce from him, would permit him to take possession of her effects, from any ownership in which the courts had barred him."
"I don't suppose the people here knew anything about it, for she says in this paper that she got her divorce secretly, and that there was no publicity about it. She simply had her lawyers notify Mowbray to that effect, at which time she sent him ten thousand dollars in settlement of all claims against her, which he agreed to accept with that understanding. But later he wrote her a letter in which he said that the agreement meant nothing to him, and that he would expect more."
"But why didn't she make the fact that he was no longer her husband public? It would have saved this trouble."
"She didn't want the news of it to travel to our parents in England. That was her pride."
"I see. Does she leave him anything in her will?"
"Yes. Her will is a curious document. It was evidently made immediately after her divorce from Mowbray, and leaves all her property to our mother, and, after her death, to my brother and myself, with a small bequest to silence Mowbray. But there is a codicil which leads me to believe that she had heard of mother's death, in which event she leaves almost everything to her brother, Frederic Caruthers. He is the one known as Fancy Farnsworth."
"Nothing to you?"
"Oh, yes, but not so much as to Fred, whom she puts in my care, asking me to see that he is properly treated and that he gets the justice which is his due."
"Evidently she knew, then, that he has many enemies who were trying to put him within the clutches of the law."
"Evidently. But there is a section which I do not understand."
"Read it. Perhaps we can figure it out between us."
"All right, I will. The paragraph is as follows: 'I desire that my elder brother, John Stairs Caruthers, shall take charge of my property in the event that the said Frederic Caruthers shall not be present when my will is opened, and that he shall be found as speedily as possible. For several years Frederic Caruthers has been my only protector, defending me from the abuse and greed of my former husband, and, further, sustaining my credit and honor by assuming the misdeeds of Mowbray, to his own discredit and danger. Had it not been for his watchful care, I would long ago have been stripped of all I have been able to accumulate, and have been in my grave at the hands of Mowbray. But of this latter I am in constant dread, and I feel such will yet be my fate. If my dead body is found with marks of violence on it, and my house robbed, it will have been the work of said Mowbray. Therefore, in the way of a tardy reward for the loyalty, care, protection, and love given me by my brother, Frederic Caruthers, I leave to him the bulk of my property, personal and real, in mining stocks, jewels, money, and the turquoise beds in New Mexico, as well as the San Fernando Ranch. I especially charge my brother John Stairs Caruthers to find his brother, and to defend him and clear his name, should it be necessary, and to put him in full possession of his property.'"
As the major finished reading he looked at Ted inquiringly.
"Well, what do you make of it?" he asked. "I confess it puzzles me."
"I can see through it. But you have your work cut out for you, major."
"In what way?"
"You will find this fellow Mowbray a hard customer."
"Pshaw! I am not afraid of him."
"Neither am I, for that matter; but it is not he alone that is to be feared in this matter."
"What do you mean?"
"Just this: Mowbray evidently is an archvillain, but he could not do all his dirty work alone."
"You think he has accomplices, then?"
"Exactly. And of the most dangerous sort."
"For instance?"
"I have been thinking the matter over, and I am convinced that Mowbray has got about him the most dangerous sort of a gang to carry on his work for him. Do you know if he is a man of any particular force and cleverness?"
"When I knew him, which was before I went to India, he was already beginning to practice his shady transactions in England, but he had never been directly caught at it. This led to the greatest opposition on the part of my family to his marriage to my sister."
"But, in spite of it, she married him?"
"Yes; she had an idea that he was abused and misrepresented, and flew to his defense by secretly marrying him. After that he got worse and bolder until he was caught not only cheating at cards, but actually stealing by means of forgery and in other ways, and they had to flee from England."
"Then, of course, he is a master in crime by this time."
"It would not surprise me to learn it. But you spoke of his being especially dangerous because of the men he had gathered about him?"
"Yes, and I mean it. I am sure now that in his gang are several men who are especially dangerous, because they can defy the law without much risk of running counter to it."
"I don't see how one man can break the law with less danger of punishment than another."
"It is this way: Mowbray has in his gang several deputy United States marshals. These men have advance information of any action to be taken by the law against the suspected perpetrators of crime. This information is at once at the disposal of Mowbray, and he can escape the consequences of his crimes without difficulty. He is protected, also, by his partners rigging up accusations against innocent persons, and convicting them by manufacturing evidence against them."
"What a villainous system!"
"It is. And it is just this thing that has enabled Mowbray to prey on his wife for so long a time."
The major uttered an exclamation of anger.
"Another thing," continued Ted: "I am sure now that it was these very pals of Mowbray that made the accusations against your brother, known as Farnsworth, at the instance of Mowbray. They nursed public resentment against the young fellow until every hand was against him, and he was forced to become an outlaw, or fall into the hands of the authorities and be forced into prison, or to the gallows, through the perjury of these same deputy marshals. It is an infamous thing, and I am going to try to sift it to the bottom and clear your brother, and see that Mowbray gets what's coming to him."
"You are very good, and I shall never forget what you have done for me already."
"That's all right. It's my duty as an officer of the United States in this Territory of Arizona to do it. Never fear; there will be more to this than the beginning, and a race is not won until it is ended."
All night one or the other of the boys patrolled the grounds, hiding in the shrubbery, ready to give the alarm should any of Mowbray's party return to attack the house and capture the treasure.
But dawn broke without an alarm, and the boys were astir, making ready for the abandonment of the house and the return to the Bubbly Well Ranch.
Ted was feeling so much better after a good night's rest that he was able to climb into his saddle and go into the town.
His object was to get a wagon and a span of mules in which to transport the remains of Helen Mowbray and the valuables she had left behind to her brother's house.
At a livery stable he met the proprietor, a garrulous old man, whom, when he had explained his mission, looked at him strangely before speaking.
"What's doin' at the Mowbray house?" he asked. "We all uptown was some curious last evenin' when we heard so much shootin'."
"Nothing much," said Ted. "Just a little pistol practice."
The old man grinned.
"Yuh musta kep' ther targets warm some from ther way ther poppin' sounded up yere," he said dryly.
"Yes, it was rather warm for a while. Well, can I have the wagon, and a driver to bring it back?"
"I don't know whether I can spare one or not. Yuh see, it's some dangerous ter take sides in this town."
"I don't want you to take my side. All I want is to complete a business transaction with you. I want you to hire me a wagon and team for a day. You understand what I want?"
"Yes, but, yuh see, that would be considered as givin' succor ter ther enemy."
"I don't understand why."
"It's this way: Judge Harris owns this stable an' rents it to me by ther month. He could kick me out to-morrow if he wanted to. He's a queer dick, an' him an' Burk, what, I understand, was at ther Mowbray house yesterday, and what had ter run away, is as close as two sheets o' sticky fly paper."
"He is, eh?"
"Yes; an' the coroner, the jailer, the mayor, the sheriff, an' everybody else what has any power er authority, is in the same boat. They all hang together, an' they're all friends o' Mr. Mowbray. Lord Mowbray they calls him."
"Ah, ha!" thought Ted. "If that is the case, it behooves us to get out of town and to Bubbly Well with our property as soon as we can."
After some further talk Ted was still unable to get the old man to rent him a wagon. Then he changed his tactics.
"Well," he said, in a firm voice, "if you won't rent me the wagon and team I'll be obliged to confiscate it for the United States."
"Eh, how is that?"
"I said I would take it for the uses of the United States. Come, roll it out and hitch up before I have to resort to violence."
"I don't know you, bub. I'm from Missouri. You'll have to show me."
Ted exposed his star of authority.
"Does that go?" he asked. "Because if it don't, this will."
His revolver was out of its holster like a flash, much to the surprise of the liveryman, who had been somewhat of a bad man himself in his day, and gun plays were not uncommon at Rodeo.
He gazed mildly into the bore of the big, silver-mounted forty-five, and then murmured:
"It goes, pal."
Several days had passed since the fight at Helen Mowbray's house, and Ted Strong and the broncho boys were again at the Bubbly Well Ranch.
The remains of Helen Mowbray had been laid to rest near the major's ranch house in a little lot surrounded by a low fence, and her treasure was safely stored away in the safe in the major's bedroom.
The period of their visit to the ranch house was past, but still they stayed to help the major to get word of his brother Frederic Caruthers, alias Fancy Farnsworth, alleged to be the worst man in Arizona.
Where he might be none knew, of course, but Ted was of the opinion that he was still somewhere in Arizona, and not far away, either.
He could not have told why he believed so, but he had one of his "hunches" to that effect, and believed it as surely as if he knew it for a fact.
Ted had seen his hunches turn out true so often that he did not attempt now to distrust them.
Somehow, he felt that everything was to come out all right some day, and that he would find Farnsworth, or Frederic Caruthers, to be more exact, and Ted always reproached himself when he thought of the young fellow by his false name.
One morning Ted awoke before the dawn, sitting upright in bed, listening for a sound, but heard nothing unusual.
This was one of Ted's habits—to be aroused by some unknown sense in the night when danger threatened.
Hearing nothing, he got out of bed, and sat on its edge and listened again.
"Wonder what waked me?" he muttered to himself. He was not in the least sleepy, as he would have been if he had wakened naturally.
"I don't think I was dreaming," he continued to mumble to himself. "And it wasn't a noise. Must have been a hunch. Guess I'll get up and see if there's anything wrong about here."
He slipped swiftly into his clothes, and sauntered through the living room.
It was just beginning to get light outside, and the windows were gray, while all else in the room was still dark.
He opened the door and stepped out into the chill morning.
Then he heard a noise, but so faint that it couldn't have been that which had disturbed him from his sound sleep, he thought.
But as the sound came nearer on the clear, thin morning air, and he recognized it and realized its significance, he knew that it was this fine, almost indistinguishable sound that had penetrated in some mysterious manner to his inner ear and called him from his sleep.
It was the cry of a hungry and angry wolf.
At last he located the sound off to the east, but as yet he could see nothing, for it was not yet light enough, and a thin mist, like a mirage, hung over the surface of the sandy prairie and obscured the view.
For a long time he stood listening to the long-drawn and savage howl, thinned out by the distance and mist, but he knew that it was coming nearer, and that the animal that was making it was not only hungry, but that it was a master wolf. It was none of the gaunt, half-starved, cowardly brutes that follow in the pack and take what the master wolf leaves of the scraps of the murdered calf or sick cow or sheep which the leaders of the pack have pulled down.
He had heard before the yells of these kings of the packs of savage prairie wolves, and they were masterful indeed, and could easily be distinguished above the feebler pipings of the wolf rabble.
Suddenly the sun came up and the mists disappeared as by magic, and it was light.
Ted looked steadily toward the place from which the howls had come when it was dark, and saw a spot against the earth.
It was either a pony or a cow, and it was in trouble, for it came on very uncertainly, running sideways, stopping for a moment to kick, then running on again.
Ted immediately saw what was the matter. It was being pursued by the wolves he had heard.
The wolves were running with it, perhaps had been chasing it all night, and were snapping it its heels, trying to hamstring it.
He thought it was a small, lean cow from this distance, and wondered at its courage, and if it would last until it got close enough to where there were human beings to be safe from further pursuit.
At first he thought of going inside and putting on his coat and boots and getting his arms and starting out toward it on his pony. But this was too much trouble, and he stood watching the tragedy of the plain, hoping for the plucky animal that was doing its best to outrun and outwit the wolves, for they were close enough now for him to see that there were four of the gray devils of the prairie.
But only one of them was worthy of a second look—a great, gray brute much larger than his mates and twice as courageous.
Ted thought it strange that the wolf king was not doing as the others did; that is, running up behind their victim and making a slash at his legs with their razorlike fangs, then retreating with a whining howl when they felt the heels of the poor brute they were tormenting.
No, the big wolf was leaping high into the air from the side, evidently trying to reach something that was fastened to the pony's back—for now Ted was able to distinguish what it was.
It was a bay pony, rather small, and almost all in with fatigue.
Something baggy was tied to its back, which resembled a bundle of old clothes.
Once, as he watched, Ted saw the pony go to its knees, actually tired out and weak.
But it was up again, and struggling bravely on again.
"Plucky little beggar," muttered Ted, in admiration. "Wish I had taken my first hunch and ridden out to help it. By Jove, it's not too late yet!"
Without going into the house Ted jumped to the ground and ran out to meet the pony and its enemies.
It did not occur to him that he was not armed until he was halfway to them. Then he felt in his pocket and found his big-bladed knife.
Taking this out, he sprang open the big blade and carried it loosely.
He had stooped and picked up a large stone, which he carried in his hand.
When he came close enough he hurled the stone at the wolves, and a dull thud, followed by a shrill, dog-like howl of pain, told him that he had countered on the rib plate of one of the nasty brutes. Then he let out a wild yell, and three of the wolves turned and fled.
Not so the king of the pack.
He stopped for a moment and stared at Ted with his pale-green eyes. Then, with a long howl of defiance, he sprang again at the pony, which had picked up courage at hearing a human voice and was coming on more briskly.
Suddenly Ted recognized the pony.
It was the major's Christmas gift, and Ted once more gave voice to an exultant yell, which only served to increase the fury of the wolf's attack at whatever was fastened to the pony's back.
Ted knew that Fred Caruthers, as he tried always to call the young brother of the major, would send the pony back some day, and now his faith had been rewarded.
When he became aware of the identity of the pony he ran faster, and was soon within a few feet of it.
He naturally expected that the wolf would now beat a retreat, as wolves met singly and in this fashion generally turn tail and split the wind for home when attacked by man.
But the big wolf simply turned his attention from the pony to the boy, and stood as if carved out of gray granite, his head held high in the air, and his eyes blazing like two pale-green lights.
"By Jove, I think the brute is going to stand and fight!" said Ted to himself.
Taking advantage of the situation, the pony trotted past Ted, who scarcely gave it a look, and went on to the corral back of the house.
"So it's going to be a fight," said Ted, advancing cautiously toward the wolf. "All right, old chap; I'll give you something to think about, if I do not leave you on the ground entirely incapable of thinking. I wish I'd gone after my Winchester now. That would have made it too short, though. Come on, now. All I have is a short knife blade against four sharp fangs, and you are as brave as the devil himself."
The wolf had not stirred except that his nose was constantly working as he sniffed the air for Ted.
Ted knew that a wolf that will stand and fight a man by himself is possessed of more than ordinary courage and brains, and, therefore, he was on the lookout for the tricks of the fight.
It was well that he was so versed, for before he was quite ready for it the wolf, without a sound, leaped straight through the air at his throat. He had just time to dodge aside, and make a vicious swipe with his knife.
But his blade did not touch the wolf, whose leap carried him several feet past Ted. Had the wolf succeeded in striking Ted, they would inevitably have gone down together, and Ted would have had none the best of it.
But the battle between Ted, the skilled huntsman and wolf exterminator, and the wily wolf, whose scarred hide told of many battles with bull and dog, wild cat and man, serpent of the desert, and the eagles of the mountains, when, in his dire hunger, he had raided their families.
The wolf slid a few feet, then swung himself around like a top and came at Ted again.
Ted was wiser this time, and dodged just out of the way. At the same time he gave a vicious side lunge with the knife, and he felt it enter the wolf's hide. There was a ripping sound, and he knew he had added a scar to the brute's large collection.
The wolf was now thoroughly angry, and snarled its fury as it wheeled once more to the attack.
Ted turned to meet it as it rushed toward him, but as he did so he heard a shout from the ranch house and turned his head in that direction for an instant.
But that instant was the critical one, and before he could get around again to face the wolf it was upon him.
Ted felt it strike his chest a mighty blow with its head, and staggered backward.
It suddenly came to him that if he got under the wolf its teeth surely would get to his throat, and that one snap of those saber-sharp teeth would settle the business for him.
He tried to protect his throat with his left arm as he felt himself toppling, but could not get it up far enough because the wolf's body and head interposed.
But he was slashing away with his knife in a frenzy of despair, and, apparently, was doing some execution, for every time he struck the wolf let out a little whine of angry pain.
But the wolf had all the best of it now, and as Ted's foot slipped on some pieces of dry grass he went down with the heavy brute on top of him.
He could feel it nuzzling at his neck for a toothhold on his throat, but he kept his chin pressed close to his neck, and, although the wolf chewed his shirt to pieces, it had found no room to get its teeth into the boy's flesh.
Ted had no time now to play with the knife. It was not up to him to conquer the wolf now, but to keep it from taking his life.
Had his revolver been with him he could have ended the fight with a couple of shots, even if the brute seemed to have a dozen lives, for he knew that had any one of the knife thrusts which he had planted in the wolf's body been given to an ordinary specimen of the species the fight would have been over long since.
The wolf was standing on him, and its weight crushed him.
All he could do in self-defense was to try to get the wolf by the throat with his bare hands and to choke it.
But the hair about its throat was a thick, almost impenetrable mass of heavy, thick-growing bristles, on which Ted's hands had apparently no effect at all.
Ted was in a pretty tight place, and he fully realized it.
The wolf was working hard to get at his windpipe, and the teeth were getting closer and closer to the vital spot.
Ted's arm, where he tried in vain to get it between himself and the wolf, was gashed in a dozen places, and the blood was all over him. His clothes had long since been torn into shreds.
The wolf was getting tired also, as well it might, for, probably it had been running all night, and had been long without food, so that it was no discredit to its enormous strength that it was weak and weary.
But neither was Ted as strong as usual, for the ball which had creased his rib had cost him lots of blood.
In the hearts of both of them, however, there was strength enough, and it was that which kept them fighting long after both of them were tired and winded.
The wolf knew, as well as did Ted, that if it ever got to his throat there would be strength enough for it; the strength that comes from blood.
Ted was wishing that some one would come.
He had heard a cry. Why didn't whoever had called out come at once?
He couldn't last more than a minute longer, and the strong, murky smell of the beast was turning him faint, as the wolf seemed to be gaining in strength and savagery.
Presently he knew the reason. He felt that his side was wet.
His wound had opened again, and he was bleeding.
The wolf had smelled his blood, and it had renewed its strength and courage, while it weakened and took the life out of Ted.
Suddenly there was a crash of hoofs on the sod. Stella's clear voice rang out, and the swish of a quirt came through the air.
That was all Ted remembered, except that he felt relieved of the weight of the wolf, which was running like a streak of gray lightning toward the hills.
His eyes opened, and he saw Stella bending over him, and managed to stagger to his feet, congratulating himself as his hand went to his throat that he had at least saved it from the white fangs of his enemy.
As Ted and Stella were walking slowly back toward the house they heard a series of shouts from the direction of the corral.
They then saw Kit at the corral gate waving frantically to them.
"Something wrong there," said Ted. "I'll get up behind you, and we'll hurry to the corral."
He jumped upon the pony's back, and Stella rode as fast as possible to where Kit stood holding the gate of the corral.
Inside the corral was a scene of confusion.
The ponies were running around and leaping in the air, snorting and edging away from the little bay pony which had come across the plain chased by the wolves.
As Ted rode up to the corral fence he looked through the bars, then started back in surprise with an exclamation.
"What is it?" asked Stella.
"A man tied to the back of the pony," replied Ted.
"Who?"
"I cannot tell. I cannot see his face."
"Open the gate, Kit, and let me in," said Stella, gathering up her reins.
"What are you going to do?" asked Ted.
"I'm going to catch that pony and bring him out. That man will be smashed to death in there by the other ponies if he isn't gotten out soon."
"Go ahead, but be careful."
Kit swung the gate open, and Stella dashed into the corral.
The ponies were running around the corral, following the line of the fence, and in the center of the bunch was the little bay pony with the inert, and probably dead, body of a man hanging head downward on the pony's flank, rolling horribly, and in constant danger of being hit by the flying heels of the other ponies, who were frantic at the smell of blood.
Stella rode among the ponies, following the circle with them, all the while edging in more and more until she was close to the little bay.
Then she was able to see the face of the man tied to its back.
"It's Farnsworth," she shouted to Ted, who was standing on the fence watching her movements.
"Get him out as soon as you can," Ted answered.
Stella rode to the pony's side, and managed to get hold of the bridle close to the bit.
Then she maneuvered for an opening by which she could lead the frightened animal out of the bunch.
"Get ready to open the gate," she called at last, and Kit stood with his hand on it.
As she came around again she began pushing the bay pony outward.
"Now!" she cried, swinging her own pony against the other with a prick of the spur, and breaking through the galloping bunch.
The next moment she and a half dozen of the frightened ponies swept through the gate, and as Kit closed it again Ted ran forward and caught the bay pony.
"Hurry him to the house," he said, running beside the bay.
His long yell brought the boys and the major to the veranda, and when they saw Ted running beside the bay pony, with Stella and Kit following, they rushed out to help.
"What is it?" asked the major, as Ted drew up to the veranda.
"Your brother," answered Ted gently, indicating the inert body tied to the pony's back.
"Get him off and into the house," said the major brusquely, his face white with apprehension.
Bud and Ben were working as for their lives at the rope by which the body of Frederic Caruthers was bound to the pony's back.
Soon they had him released, and between them bore the limp form into the living room and laid it on a lounge.
The clothes on the body were torn into strips, and the flesh was gashed in numerous places. This was the work of the wolf's teeth, which, during the chase, had repeatedly leaped at the unconscious man, trying to drag him from the pony's back.
"These wounds are not the worst," said Ted, looking down at Caruthers. "Off with his clothes, boys, and let us see where his real hurt is."
It did not take long for the boys to get Caruthers' rags stripped from his body, and Ted bent over him, examining him closely.
"Ah, here it is," he said, as he turned Caruthers over.
"What?" asked the major, crowding in.
"Here in the back," said Ted, pointing to a small, round, bluish hole just under Caruthers' right shoulder blade.
"By Jove, he's been shot through the body. That's what brought him to this."
"But how did it happen, I wonder, that he was tied to the back of the pony?" asked Ted.
"We'll never know until he tells us, probably," said the major. "If, indeed, he ever is able to do that," he continued, after a slight pause, looking sorrowfully at the young fellow, who seemed to have breathed his last.
But Ted's ear was pressed close to his heart, and his fingers sought the wounded man's pulse.
In a moment he straightened up.
"He's alive—only alive, and no more. But perhaps we can save him yet," he said. "Hustle, fellows! Stella, get me some hot water as soon as possible. Bud, arrange a cot in my room near the window. Major, if you have any brandy, let me have some. Kit, get the bandages ready and prepare some carbolated water. All alive now."
Ted's vigorous action was followed by the others, and in a few minutes Caruthers was stretched out on the cot in Ted's room.
At the movement the wound began to bleed, which was a good sign, and Ted proceeded to wash it with warm water, and began to probe for the ball, to ascertain, if possible, how deep it had gone.
As he was engaged in probing a slight groan came from between the blue lips of the victim.
"All right, I've found it," said Ted, in a low voice to the major, who was bending anxiously over the body of his brother.
"It's all right," continued Ted reassuringly. "It didn't go in very deep, and if he can hold out for a moment or two I think I can get it out. I've taken out worse ones than this."
Ted continued to work with the probe, and occasionally Caruthers stirred and groaned.
Then came a gentle tug, and the bullet rolled out of the wound upon the sheet.
It was followed by a spurt of blood, which Ted looked at closely.
"No danger," he said. "It is not arterial blood. Give me the water, and then the bandages."
With deft and practiced fingers Ted bound up the wound as well as a surgeon might.
"Now for a sip of the brandy, and we'll have him around all right," said the young amateur surgeon.
He forced a teaspoonful of the ardent spirits between the pale lips of the wounded man, which was followed by a spluttering cough, then a long sigh, and Caruthers opened his eyes.
For a moment he glanced around, and with a faint smile closed his eyes again, and sank into a gentle sleep.
"Bully!" exclaimed Ted, with satisfaction. "He'll get well now, I think, but he had a close call. A little longer on the back of that pony, jostled and being tossed around, would have finished him in spite of his splendid physique."
"What shall we do now?" asked the major.
"There is nothing we can do except care for him faithfully, and nurse him. Some one will have to watch him, and give him his medicine, which I shall prepare from your medicine chest, major."
"Let me nurse him," exclaimed Stella, who had come into the room in time to hear this.
"The very thing, if you don't mind," said Ted.
"Mind! I should like to. And you know that I can nurse some," said Stella proudly.
"I know it from experience. Keep him quiet. Don't let him talk, and whenever he gets restless give him a spoonful of his medicine. He mustn't be allowed to toss around, for that would start internal bleeding. He is not out of the woods by a long shot. When he is well will be time enough for him to do his talking, and tell us what happened to him. Now, fellows, we'll clear out and give nurse and patient a fair show."
For several days Caruthers hung between life and death. Most of the time he was in a state of delirium, during which he continually muttered something about "joy." When Stella told Ted about this he was greatly puzzled. What had the poor chap to do with joy?
Then it suddenly occurred to him that Caruthers meant Ban Joy, Helen Mowbray's Japanese servant, who was called Joy for short.
"He wants to tell us about that Jap," said Ted. "Evidently he knows something about the murder of his sister, and wants us to find the Jap."
"Thar's nothin' doin' until he gets over his fever an' is strong ernough ter talk," said Bud, "So ther best thing ter do is not ter mind what he says, but ter git him over his fever."
Stella was well-nigh worn out, but she would not consent to leave the bedside of the sick man, except at short intervals, when Ted or Bud, who were the best nurses among the boys, took her place that she might get some much-needed sleep.
That night Caruthers awoke from a long sleep and looked up at Stella.
"Where am I?" he asked, in a low voice.
"You are with friends," she replied gently. "Hush, you are not strong enough to talk."
"Yes, I am. I am all right now. Whose house am I in?" he asked.
"You are in Major Caruthers' house."
"I am glad. Is Ted Strong here?"
"Yes."
"Send him to me. I must talk to him. How long have I been here?"
"About a week."
"Hurry. It may be too late."
Stella saw that Caruthers' head was clear, and that he had something important to communicate, and that it would not be well with him if he were permitted to worry, so she went out, and presently Ted entered the room.
"Well, old chap, you look fit," he said, giving Caruthers' hand a gentle pressure.
"I'll be all right in a day or two. But I must talk with you. Tell me, have the Gray Wolves been here yet, and have you driven them off?" said Caruthers excitedly.
Ted was sure now that the patient had relapsed back into his delirious talk, and tried to soothe him.
"I'm all right," said Caruthers impatiently. "I know what I'm saying. I don't mean the pack that chased me."
"No, we have not been attacked by wolves," Ted answered.
"Then you will be. Have you seen Joy—Ban Joy, the Jap, I mean?"
"No."
"That is strange. He should have been here if he got away."
"I'm up in the air as to what you mean. If you are strong enough, perhaps you'd better tell what you mean, beginning at the time you left us, and telling it as briefly as possible."
"All right. But first give me a dose of that medicine."
Ted administered the medicine, which was a mild stimulant, and Caruthers began:
"When I jumped through the window, I did so, not because I was afraid of the four men, but to save you from trouble. I knew that the fellows had been sent to get me, not by the authorities, but by my brother-in-law Mowbray. You know about him?"
Ted nodded, and Caruthers went on:
"I went directly to Sombrero Peak. I knew they would look for me in another place. I was right, but I had not foreseen another thing. When I was in hiding I was surprised by the sudden appearance of Ban Joy and his sister Itsu San, the servants of my sister. They, too, had fled from Mowbray and his gang of murderers.
"This was somewhat inconvenient for me, for I knew that Mowbray, while he would not probably get on my track until I could communicate with you, would easily track the Japanese, and I was not in any position to defend myself and them, for I was out of ammunition, having lost my cartridge belt. But I found a small cave and fortified it as well as possible, and awaited the coming of the Gray Wolves."
"The Gray Wolves?" said Ted, with interrogation in his voice.
"Yes, that is what Mowbray and his thieves and murderers call themselves. You will know why, I'm thinking, before long.
"But to proceed: We continued to live in the cave for a few days, Joy contriving to trap rabbits and birds, upon which we lived. Then, in a moment of foolhardiness, I determined to go out and see if I could find out whether we had been followed, and at the same time try to get to San Carlos and supply myself with a Winchester and some cartridges, for I knew that, if I was properly armed, I could stand off the gang.
"Well, I saddled the little pony and started out, after telling Joy to come here if I didn't return. I scouted cautiously among the hills, trying to find the pass on the other side of the peak which led out to San Carlos.
"To make a long story short, I rode right into the trap, and was caught by the Gray Wolves. I had six shells in my revolver, and as they surrounded me I fought for my life, and I am glad to say I got three of them before they got me. But I couldn't hit Mowbray, although I tried my best to do so. He seemed to bear a charmed life. As soon as I had fired my last shot I wheeled the pony and fled. Up to this time I had not been hit, but just as I was getting safely away, having jumped through the men surrounding me, clubbing them to the earth with the butt of my pistol, I turned to look back. I saw Mowbray bring down his rifle and take deliberate aim at me, and I shuddered, because Mowbray is one of the finest shots in the world. Then I heard the report of his weapon, and felt the sting of the bullet. He had aimed to strike my heart, but the turn of my body saved me."
"But how did you come to be tied to the pony's back?" asked Ted.
"When I was struck by the bullet I felt myself going. I knew that very soon I would lose consciousness, and in that event I would soon be captured, so it behooved me, while I still retained my senses, to save myself. There was a lariat hanging to the horn of the saddle, and I proceeded to tie myself to the pony's back as well as I could. You see, I knew that the pony would go home when he found himself free.
"I was no sooner well tied to the pony's back when I heard the howl of the wolves, and recognized the voice of White Fang."
"White Fang?"
"Yes, the master of the pack. Have you not heard of him. He is well known in this part of the country—a wolf with almost human intelligence, fierce, a perfect devil of an animal, to whose pack every ranch in this country has paid heavy tribute. You will know more about him if you stay here. He is the devil in the hide of an animal.
"Well, I resigned myself to my fate, with a prayer that the little pony would get me to the Bubbly Well Ranch before the wolves pulled me from his back. And he did."
"But you said something about the Gray Wolves visiting us?"
"Yes. They will be here. Prepare to defend your lives and the house. They know I am here, and they know that you have my sister's treasure. That is what they want."
"How do you know that?"
"Joy told me, and more, which you will learn later. But I feel faint, and can talk no more. 'Ware the Gray Wolves!"