165
“Whar’s dat willian?” she demanded, glancing round the dimly lit room.
“Yes, Edna, I heard you had a guest down here.”
“He asked me to let him go, and I thought it was the best way to get rid of him,” replied the wife with a smile, for her strength was returning to her.
“Humph!” snorted the disgusted Dinah, as one of her feet came down on the floor with a bang, “I’s got my ’pinion of sich foolishness as dat.”
“Let me hear how it was, Edna,” said the husband, laughing in spite of himself.
She quickly gave the particulars, and he in turn told what he had passed through during his sojourn on the roof.
“The fellow deserved something, but, after all, I find no fault with your action. Much as I am exasperated against these Comanches for their attack, I couldn’t help feeling an admiration for this fellow, who got the better of me in the neatest style I ever had it done in all my life.”
“Is it not time we heard something from166Avon?” asked the wife; “he certainly has been gone more than an hour–––”
“Hark!”
The shouts, whoops, and the reports of guns and pistols suddenly broke the stillness on the outside.
Most of the voices bore a familiar sound, and there were a dash and vim about the whole business which left no doubt of its meaning.
In the firelight of the room, husband and wife looked in each other’s glowing faces, and instinctively the two uttered the same expression:
“The boys have arrived!”
167CHAPTER XXI.THROUGH THE BUSH.
Oscar Gleeson the cowboy, who appeared at such a timely juncture for Avon Burnet, when he was hard pressed by his Comanche pursuer, took the young man on his mustang behind him, as the reader will recall, and set out for the camp, several miles distant.
Despite the fears of the youth for the safety of his friends in the cabin, the veteran ranchman was more concerned for the fifty-odd cattle that had chosen to stampede themselves, and were at that moment dashing over the prairie for no one could tell where.
But inasmuch as the captain had sent for help, it must be given, regardless of other matters, and the easy swing of the mustang continued until the two arrived at the fire that had been kindled in a small valley, where the provision wagon was stationed with the other168animals tethered near, ready for the start that was set for an early hour the next morning.
Most of the men had stretched themselves out in the wagon to sleep, for a hard and arduous campaign was before them, in which they were likely to be compelled to keep their horses for fifteen or twenty hours at a stretch, changing them when necessary and catching snatches of slumber as chance presented.
But the unaccountable stampede of a portion of the herd had roused all, and, at the moment “Ballyhoo,” as he was known to his friends, reined up, preparations were under way for a general start after the absent ones.
“Where’s Madstone and Shackaye?” asked Gleeson, looking down in the faces of the group, dimly shown in the firelight, and noticing that two of their number were missing.
“They started out for the cattle a little while ago,” replied one of the ranchmen, “thinking as how you might not be able to manage them.”
“I’d fetched ’em back all right,” replied169Gleeson, “if it hadn’t been for some other business that turned up.”
“What’s that?”
“The reds are down at the cabin raising the mischief; a lot of ’em got after Baby here, and I had to drop one, and then take him on my hoss and bring him along with me.”
“What was he doing out at night on foot?” was the natural query of another of the cowboys.
“Wal, he was putting in the tallest kind of running, when I set eyes on him; if he had kept it up, I don’t believe I would have been able to overhaul him myself.”
This remark caused several of the grinning ranchmen to turn toward Avon, who had slipped off the horse and laughed as he made answer:
“I got into the worst scrape of my life,” he explained, “and it would have gone hard with me if Ballyhoo hadn’t turned up just as he did. The reason I was abroad was because Uncle Dohm thought it best I should come to camp after you fellows.”
170
“What’s the matter withhim?” asked one, who, despite the brief explanation already given, could not understand how it was their leader and his family were in special danger, even if their home was surrounded by Comanches.
“The folks could stand them off for a week, or month, if they had water and provisions, if it wasn’t for one thing; the roof of the cabin is as dry as tinder, and the captain knows they intend to set fire to it. If they do, nothing can save the folks, for the building will burn down before we can get there.”
This was putting a new face on matters, and the ranchmen realized that more serious work was required of them than rounding up the strayed cattle. Captain Shirril was too brave a man to feel needless alarm, and the fact that he had sent for help was proof that there was urgent need of it.
Two of the party were gone and might not be back for several hours. That, however, was of no account, since, including young Burnet, seven were left, and not one of them would have hesitated, with his companions, to171attack a party of Comanches two or three times as numerous as that which had laid siege to the captain’s cabin.
These men were fully armed with Winchester, revolvers, and knives, they had no superiors as horsemen, they were accustomed to the rough out-door life, and it may be said that all welcomed the chance of a stirring brush with the red men that had been hovering in their vicinity so long, but who took care to avoid anything in the nature of a fair stand-up fight.
There were horses for all, including Avon Burnet, and, in a very brief space of time, the men were in the saddle and heading toward the home of their leader.
It would be hard to find a company of cowboys or plainsmen whose members are not known by distinctive names, generally based on some personal peculiarity. Thus young Burnet, as we have stated, was nearly always addressed as “Baby,” because of his youth. Oscar Gleeson, one of the most skilful and famous cowmen of the Southwest, was addressed as “Ballyhoo,” for the reason that,172whenever he indulged in a shout or loud call, he used that exclamation.
Hauser Files, the associate of Gleeson, once took part in a game of baseball in San Antonio, during which he received the elusive sphere on the point of his nose. He withdrew in disgust from the amusement, and was always known thereafter as Short Stop.
Gleeson and Files were between thirty and forty years of age, but Ward Burrell, from the lowlands of Arkansas, had rounded his half-century of existence, acquiring during the journey such a peculiar complexion that he was known as Old Bronze. Andy Wynwood, from the same State, was younger. One of his most stirring narratives related to the manner in which he escaped hydrophobia, after being bitten by a rabid wolf. He claimed that the only thing that saved him was the use of a madstone. Whether he was mistaken or not is not for us to say, but there was certainly no mistake about the origin of the name of Madstone, which clung to him forever afterward.
Antonio Nunez, the Mexican, was the173“Greaser,” Zach Collis from New Mexico, who was also more than fifty years of age, was “Rickety,” because of a peculiarity in his gait, while George Garland was “Jersey George,” for no other reason than that he was born in the State of New Jersey.
The remaining member of Captain Shirril’s party was Shackaye, a Comanche Indian, about a year older than Avon Burnet, concerning whom we shall soon have something to say further.
Captain Shirril was right when he expressed his belief that the arrival of his friends would be in the nature of one of those wild western cyclones, which have grown quite familiar of late in the West and Southwest.
The cowboys swung along at an easy gallop, until near the cabin. They wanted to arrive without giving the Comanches more notice than was inevitable; but, when they knew their approach could be concealed no longer, they drove their spurs into the flanks of their ponies, gave utterance to their wild whoops, and went forward on a dead run.
Before this, the Indians must have suspected174that matters were not progressing right. They were aware that one or more white men were in the vicinity, and as a matter of course knew of the Texan camp, only a few miles away. If the cowboys had not learned what was going on from the reports of the guns, they must soon learn it from the whites, who were not only near the building, but who managed to keep out of their clutches.
Not only that, but the red men had already lost several of their best warriors, and having been repeatedly baffled in their attempts to fire the building, were considering a withdrawal, at the moment they were joined by their comrade, who received such unmerited mercy from Mrs. Shirril.
The shouts, firing of guns, and tramp of the horses settled the question off-hand. There was an instant scattering to their own steeds, upon whose backs they vaulted, and then,turningtheir heads toward the mesquite bush, they sent them flying away at breakneck speed.
But the Texans were not to be disappointed175of their entertainment in that style. Catching a glimpse of the scurrying horsemen, they were after them like so many thunderbolts, firing their pistols and rifles, even when there was no chance of hitting anything. There was no time to aim, and they took the chances of so much powder accomplishing something, when burned with ardor and eagerness.
Thus it came about that, within a minute after the arrival of our friends, they were out of sight again in the brush, doing their utmost to teach the marauders a lesson that would keep them forever away from that neighborhood.
“Ballyhoo” fixed his eye on one of the red men, who seemed to be at the rear. He was in fact the very fellow whose life had been spared by Mrs. Shirril. Arriving on the ground at the last moment, he was obliged to run several rods before reaching his horse; but he did it quickly, and, turning his head toward the bush, dashed after his companions and was almost upon their heels.
“You’re my game!” exclaimed Gleeson,176banging away with his revolver at him, but, so far as he could see, without effect.
The mesquite bush was not vigorous enough to offer much obstruction to the mustangs, though it was much more objectionable than the open plain. The horses could plunge through it, almost as if it were so much tall grass, besides which it gave something of shelter to the Comanches, who were now fleeing for their lives.
Flinging themselves forward on the necks of their steeds, who were as fleet as those of their pursuers, with the brush swaying on all sides, they became such bad targets that only chance or wonderful skill could tumble them to the earth.
Gleeson was so close to the savage he had singled out as his special target, and his own steed coursed so swiftly through the bush, that it looked as if he would down his man. The fugitive was hardly visible, as he stretched forward, not upon his horse’s neck, but along the further side and almost under it. About the only part of his person within reach was his foot, the toes of which were177curved over the spine of his animal, and his left arm, which clasped the neck from below.
It was useless, therefore, for the Texan to try any sort of aim, and when he discharged his pistol now and then, until the chambers were emptied, it was with the same hope as before, that by accident one of the missiles would reach home.
But this little amusement was not to be entirely on the side of the pursuer. Suddenly there was a flash beneath the neck of the mustang, a resounding report, and the bullet grazed the temple of the enthusiastic cowboy.
“Well done, old fellow,” he muttered, shoving his smaller weapon in his holster, and bringing his Winchester round in front; “it makes things more lively when they are not one-sided.”
He bent forward, and, sighting as best he could, fired. A whinnying scream rang out in the confusion, and the mustang plunged forward on his knees and rolled over on his side, stone dead because of the bullet that had bored its way through his brain.
Such a mishap would have been fatal to the178majority of riders, but the wonderful activity of the Comanche saved him from harm because of the fall of his animal. He struck the ground on his feet, and showed a tremendous burst of speed, as he took up the interrupted flight of his horse, keeping straight on, without darting to the right or left.
“I’ve got you now,” exclaimed the exultant Texan, holding the nose of his animal toward him.
Astonishing as was the fleetness of the Comanche, it could not equal that of the intelligent mustang, that knew what was needed from him. He wanted no guidance from his rider, who was therefore left free to manipulate his Winchester as best he could with the brush whipping about him.
All at once the gun was brought to his shoulder, but, before it was fired, the Indian dropped his head, dodged to one side, and vanished as if by magic.
Where he had gone was a mystery to the Texan, whose steed checked himself so suddenly that the rider was nearly thrown from his saddle.
179
There was so much noise and confusion that Gleeson could not hear clearly, but something caused him to turn his head, under the impression that he detected a movement near at hand.
He was just in time to catch a glimpse of the Comanche, darting through the bush in a direction almost the opposite of that which he had been following so long.
“How the mischief did you get there?” was the astonished exclamation of the Texan, as he again brought his rifle to a level.
At the moment of doing so, he comprehended how it all came about. The Comanche had darted directly under the mustang, doing so with a quickness and skill that baffled the eye of his foe. Few, even of his own people, could have performed the exploit which he executed with perfection.
Ballyhoo Gleeson lowered his gun.
“You can go! I’ll be hanged if you don’t deserve to get away afterthattrick!”
180CHAPTER XXII.THUNDERBOLT.
Avon Burnet knew that when the cattlemen reached a point within a half mile of his home, and the fire had not yet been started, that all danger was over. It was beyond the power of the assailants, with the slight time at their command, to harm the defenders.
Then naturally his thoughts turned to his mustang Thunderbolt, that had been left in the mesquite bush with the animal belonging to his uncle. The chances were that the Comanches had captured both, but he was not without hope regarding his own pony.
The steed was so intelligent that he was certain to resist the approach of a stranger at night, especially if he were an Indian. The redskins were so occupied in trying to encompass181the death of the Texan and his family, besides being well supplied with their own steeds, that they were not likely to put forth much effort to capture a single animal.
The youth was as eager as his companions to do his part in driving off the red men, but the chance was denied him. The spare horse which he rode, and which he put to his best pace, could not hold his own with the rest, and consequently he arrived at the rear of the procession.
He glanced right and left, but caught the outlines of but one figure, whose identity he suspected, because he was standing in front of the cabin door.
“Helloa, uncle, is that you?”
“Yes, Avon; I see you have arrived; I hope you suffered no harm.”
“Matters were stirring for a time, but I am safe.”
At this moment, Mrs. Shirril and Dinah, recognizing the voice, opened the door, the captain inviting them to come outside.
The fire was now burning so briskly on the hearth that the interior was well illuminated,182so that their figures were plainly stamped against the yellow background.
“There isn’t anything left for you to do,” said the captain, “so you may as well dismount.”
The firing, shouts, and yells came from a remote point in the bush, and were rapidly receding.
Avon came down from his saddle, kissed his aunt, shook hands with his uncle, and spoke kindly to Dinah, who was proud of the handsome fellow.
“Uncle,” said he briskly, “what do you suppose, has become of your horse Jack and Thunderbolt?”
“Taken off by the Comanches, or killed.”
“I suppose that is probable, but I shall make a search for them.”
Believing this could be done better on foot, he left the pony in charge of his relative and walked hastily into the bush.
“I don’t suppose there is much hope, but I have an idea that maybe Thunderbolt has been wounded and needs looking after. The bullets have been flying pretty thickly during183the last few minutes, and for that matter,” he added, pausing a few seconds to listen, “they are not through yet.”
On the edge of the bush he encountered a horseman, whose voice, when hailed, showed that he was “Jersey.”
“What’s the trouble?” asked Avon, pausing to exchange words with his friend.
“Aint nothing more to do,” was the response; “the varmints are travelling faster than this horse can go, though he was one of their animals.”
“How was that?”
“I got it in the neck––that is my critter did. I had one of them pretty well pinned, when he fired from under his horse’s belly and my pony went down, as dead as a doornail. I came mighty nigh being mashed under him, but I dropped the other chap, for all I couldn’t see him when I drew bead. I ’spose it was a chance shot, but the minute he went off his horse got so bewildered he didn’t know what to do with himself. While he was trotting about, I catched him, put my bridle on him without trouble, and here I am, Baby.”
184
“Sure he isn’t one of ours?” asked Avon, approaching still nearer and looking him over as well as he could in the darkness.
“He is now, but he wasn’t fifteen minutes ago.”
Knowing that he was not Thunderbolt, the youth was hopeful that it might prove Jack; but it took only a minute to learn that Jersey was right. The steed had been brought to the spot by one of the Comanches and was a fine animal, though so much time passed before the Texan secured him that he was simply prudent in not trying to follow after the red men, who were far beyond reach.
Jersey laughed when Avon told him his errand, but said he would not be much surprised if he was successful, for the reasons which have been already stated.
There had been hot work in the bush, for when the cattlemen charged the Comanches, they did so with all the vigor of their nature. These Indians were among the most persistent thieves in Texas, and, as the reader knows, the man who attempts to run off another’s cattle or horses commits185a more flagrant crime in that section of our Union than he does when he seeks the owners’ lives.
Avon bore to the left, leaving the principal theatre of the scrimmage, and had not reached the border of the mesquite when he almost stumbled over a fine horse that lay on its side, without a particle of life.
“I wonder whether that is Thunderbolt,” he said, with a feeling of dread, as he bent over to examine the body.
Drawing a rubber safe from his pocket, he struck a match, and by the tiny flame looked at the head and side of the dead steed.
One scrutinizing glance was enough; the body was not that of his own favorite, but of Jack, belonging to his uncle.
“Poor Jack!” murmured the youth with a thrill of sympathy, “you have been on many a stirring campaign, but you will go on no more. I wonder how it was you met your death.”
It looked as if the mustang had been stricken by a stray shot, that may have been fired by a friend, for it was not to be supposed186that a Comanche would have killed him purposely, when he would have been a valuable prize.
The bridle and saddle were in the cabin, so that the owner had simply lost one of his horses, his supply of extra ones being sufficient to replace him without trouble.
“I am afraid there is little chance of finding Thunderbolt alive,” added the youth, as he resumed his search.
He made his way through the bush with the utmost care, for, although the Indians had been sharply repulsed, he was aware of the custom of those people, when any of their number are killed or wounded. The survivors put forth every exertion to take them away with them, having the horror of their race against any falling into the hands of their enemies. It was more than likely that when the sun rose not a body would be anywhere in sight. Even the warrior who had run him so hard, only to succumb to the rifle of Ballyhoo Gleeson, would not be forgotten by his former comrades.
Advancing with the utmost caution, he187heard a rustling in the bush in front. Quite sure that it was caused by his enemies, he stood a minute or two listening, uncertain whether to advance or withdraw. But he found the parties were receding, and he ventured to steal forward in order to gain a closer sight of them.
A short walk took him to the edge of the mesquite, where the additional light offered a partial view of a strange scene.
Two able-bodied warriors were supporting a third between them. The wounded one was able to walk slowly with help, but it was apparent that he was badly hurt, for he leaned heavily upon his support, who stopped at intervals to give him rest.
Finally the party halted, and one of them emitted a tremulous but sharp whistle. The signal was for a couple of their own horses, which loomed to sight in the gloom, as they advanced in obedience to the command.
Fearful of being discovered, if he left the bush, Avon kept in the shadow and watched the party. His view was indistinct, but it was easy to see that the two warriors were lifting188their wounded companion upon the back of one of the mustangs. When this was done a Comanche took his seat behind him, so as to hold him in place by passing an arm around his waist. Those people had no need of saddles, their accoutrement consisting of the single thong fastened around the head of the animal, and by which he could be guided at the will of his master. Indeed, many of the Comanches ride without any such aid at all, their intelligent animals being obedient to their voices, and seeming to comprehend their wishes as if by intuition.
Soon after the mustangs and their riders faded from view in the gloom, the horses on a moderate walk. They would have proven easy victims to a couple of the cattlemen, had they appeared at this moment, but, much as the fiery ranchmen despised and hated this tribe, it may be doubted whether there was one of their number who would have taken advantage of such an opportunity.
The Texans were ready to fight at all times, but there is a chivalry in their composition which prevents their taking an189unfair advantage of a foe. They would have allowed the trio to ride away unmolested, which is just what the Comanches would not have done, had their situations been reversed.
Avon Burnet was considering whether it was worth while to push his search further, when, to his surprise, an exclamation broke upon his ear, in the form of a vigorous “Oofh!” as nearly as it can be put in letters.
He knew it came from the lips of an Indian, who was not far off, though in a different direction from that taken by the warriors and their wounded comrade. It was more to the south, though the penetrating glance he cast in that direction failed to reveal the individual.
But it was heard again, and now, when he looked, he was able to catch the dim outlines of a horse, walking slowly toward him.
“What’s the matter with the Comanches to-night?” the puzzled youth asked himself; “they seem to be up to all manner of tricks.”
190
As the horseman gradually became more distinct, he saw that the rider was in an odd quandary. He was striving to turn the animal in the opposite direction, but he would not obey. He flung up his head, sometimes reared angrily, and, though he maintained a walk, kept pushing straight on toward the bush, despite the savage attempts of the rider to make him wheel about.
A suspicion flashed through the mind of Avon. The man was an Indian beyond question, and the horse could not be his own, for, if it were, he would have obeyed him without urging. It must be one of the Texan horses that he was trying to steal.
The youth uttered the familiar signal by which he was able at all times to bring Thunderbolt to his side, when he was within hearing. The mustang replied with a glad whinny, and broke into a trot straight for his master. It was indeed his prized animal, with a Comanche warrior on his back.
191CHAPTER XXIII.“GOOD-BY!”
The Comanche must have been disgusted. He had been trying for some time to steal the mustang of Avon Burnet, with the result that the pony was about to steal him, unless he prevented it offhand.
The Indian heard the whistle from the edge of the bush, and the instant increase of speed, on the part of the stubborn mustang, made the meaning clear to him. He did not know but that three or four Texans were waiting in the mesquite, and that, if he stayed on the back of the steed a minute longer, he would be carried directly into their arms.
Consequently he did not hesitate. He went off of Thunderbolt, as if struck by a cannon ball, and, heading out on the prairie, ran with might and main, quickly disappearing in the darkness, and was seen no more.
192
“Ah, my own Thunderbolt!” exclaimed the delighted Avon, patting the nose of his beast, who was as happy as he at being restored to his young master; “I thought I would never see you again, but here you are.”
He sprang upon the bare back, and the pony started through the bush for the cabin.
Arriving there, matters were found in a satisfactory shape. Ballyhoo Gleeson was the only cowboy that had remained behind with Captain Shirril. The rest had started to look after the cattle. It has been shown that a number had been stampeded, and since all care was necessarily withdrawn from the others, they were likely to follow suit. Then, too, it was probable that the Comanches would see their chance of securing some of the herd, and would make the attempt despite the rough handling they had received.
Nothing could have attested more strikingly the fact that our friends were accustomed to their wild, dangerous life, than the manner in which they now acted. A half hour before, the little family within the cabin considered themselves in such imminent peril of being193burned to death that they allowed young Burnet to run the greatest risk to secure help, before it was too late.
But now Captain Shirril and Ballyhoo Gleeson sat before the fire, that was burning brightly, smoking their pipes, and talking as though the occurrence was of the most ordinary nature. The ranchman had made sure of his supply of tobacco, and intended to ride back to camp, after spending an hour or so within the house.
Everyone had eaten supper before the lively incidents opened, and Mrs. Shirril now resumed her sitting in front of the fire, occasionally taking part in the words of her husband and guests. Dinah was heard muttering angrily to herself upstairs, as she investigated the damages done by the visitor in her apartment.
Avon, on his return, told his uncle about his horse, explaining that he was fortunate enough to recover Thunderbolt.
“You were luckier than I supposed you would be,” said the captain, as his nephew drew up his chair near them.
194
“Do you think,” asked the wife, “that the Comanches will trouble us further, husband?”
“There is no danger,” he replied, calmly puffing his pipe; “is there, Ballyhoo?”
“None at all,” was the calm response.
“I thought perhaps that because they had suffered so severely, they would come back to revenge themselves,” ventured the little woman, still busily plying her needle.
“But you see the damage was done, not by you and Dinah, though you did your part, but by the men, andthem’sthe ones they’ll go for,” observed Ballyhoo.
“That is not the invariable rule with Indians,” was the truthful remark of Mrs. Shirril. “It makes little difference to them whether the innocent or guilty suffer.”
“But,” said the husband, “the prime object of the redskins is cattle, with perhaps horses thrown in. You know they have been hanging round for a number of days, waiting for a chance before we started north; they will make an effort to run off those stampeded cattle to-night, and likely enough will follow195us into the Indian Nation, on the watch for a chance to gather in several hundred hoofs.”
“I think there’s one thing that’s encouraging,” said Avon, addressing all his friends; “you know how dry the roof of the house is. If Dinah hadn’t put her foot down when she did, there would have been no cabin at this moment. The Comanches tried to fire the sides, and failing in that, gave their attention to the roof, where they came so near succeeding.”
“What do you refer to as encouraging, Avon?” asked his uncle.
“There’s a storm in the air; we are going to have a regular driving rain, that will soak the roof until a ton of live-coals on the top wouldn’t set fire to the planking.”
“Baby is right,” said Ballyhoo, with a nod of his head; “rain will fall within twelve hours.”
“Thatisgood news,” said the wife, with a pleased look; “I shall now see the captain and the rest of you leave without a misgiving as concerns ourselves.”
“You wouldn’t feel frightened, Edna, if196old Wygwind and his gang of imps should come whooping down upon you?” asked the captain, looking sideways, with an expression of admiration and love glowing from his shaggy face.
“I don’t pretend to say we would not be frightened, but Dinah and I would feel secure inside, so long as there was no danger of the building being burned. I wonder whether Wygwind led this party.”
“I shouldn’t be surprised if he did; he’s one of the worst scamps that ever lived.”
“You’re right,” assented Ballyhoo. “I believe he led this gang, though a chap couldn’t tell in the darkness. You know what a thief he is.”
The allusion was to the notorious Comanche Wygwind, one of the many leaders belonging to that tribe. He was a powerful, wiry Indian, in middle life, who had long been detested by the ranchmen for his thievish and brutal propensities. He had stolen hundreds of cattle, not to mention horses, and though often pursued, and driven more than once into dangerous197quarters, he had managed in some way to pull through to the present time.
“If he should get inside,” said the captain slyly, “and you should get the drop on him, wife, I advise that you don’t let him walk out of the door unharmed.”
“That depends on circumstances,” quietly replied his better half; “if he should appeal to me, and he had done no particular harm, I could hardly refuse him. However, I don’t think if he does enter it will be through the scuttle.”
“The next time it will be best to turn him over to the mercies of Dinah.”
“I am afraid it will go ill with him if I do. I heard her say to herself, when she went upstairs after you, that, on the return trip, she meant to fall from the round of the ladder upon him: the result would have been frightful.”
“Yes; that red man doesn’t know all that he escaped.”
The mutterings of Dinah were still audible overhead, and she was seen the next minute, descending the primitive stairs.
198
The little party smiled, and the captain turned toward her.
“Well, Dinah, you didn’t find much damage done in your room, did you?”
“Humph! ’cause de warmint didn’t hab time. I only wish I had a chance to wrung his neck.”
“No doubt you would have done it, but I think we all have cause for gratitude that things turned out as well as they did.”
“I guess you didn’t notice dat big hole dey come nigh burning frough de roof, did you?”
“Oh, yes; I saw it; it would have been much worse but for you; I hope the fire didn’t injure your shoe.”
She turned her foot and looked at the broad sole of the heavy shoe, as though the thought had not occurred to her before.
“It am scorchified a little,” she said.
“Never mind,” remarked Ballyhoo gravely; “I’ll give out a contract for a new pair for you, when we get into Kansas, and send a couple of the boys back with them, if they don’t prove too big a load.”
199
“I consider such remarks as onnecessary and slightsome,” replied Dinah, with a scornful toss of her head; “I wore number ’lebens, which am just a lady’s size; I reckons you can’t do much better dan dat.”
“If my feet keep on growing for a few years, I may get there in time, but you shall have the shoes, Dinah, if the right size can be bought in any of the big establishments.”
“T’ank you,” replied the African, who thought it best not to repel the offer of her friend; “dese am gettin’ wored consid’ble, and by de time you got back, I’ll need anoder pair.”
The evening was advancing. In answer to Ballyhoo’s inquiries, Captain Shirril looked at his watch, and said that it was nearly eleven o’clock.
“I must be off,” remarked the tall ranchman, rising to his feet; “we make an early start, and I don’t know how the boys have made out with the cattle; they may need my help.”
“I may as well go with you,” said Avon,200looking inquiringly at his uncle; “for there is to be no more work here.”
“It will be just as well,” replied the captain.
The youth took his saddle and accoutrements from the corner, where they had been lying, and stepping outside, adjusted them upon Thunderbolt, who whinnied with pleasure at the promise of carrying his loved owner on his back indefinitely. The two had become attached by their companionship on the hunt and ranch, and the delight of the youth on recovering his mustang was beyond expression.
While he was busy at this brief task, the members of the little family kept their feet, discussing matters in which each was interested.
“Well, I’m ready, Ballyhoo,” called Avon, in his cheery voice, stepping quickly through the open door.
He placed one arm around the neck of his aunt and kissed her affectionately, shook hands with Dinah, adding as he crossed palms with his uncle:
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“I expect to see you again, soon. Keep up a good heart, auntie, while we are gone, which I don’t think will be for long. Good-by, all!”
He put his foot in the stirrup, swung himself into the saddle, at the same moment that his companion did the same, and the couple headed their animals to the northward.
Captain Shirril and the women remained in the door, looking forth in the darkness, and listening until the sounds of the hoofs died out in the distance. Then the Texan led the way inside, adjusting the bar in place so that no one could enter without permission.
The extra horse which Avon had ridden to the cabin was turned loose in the bush, to be recovered and used by the captain when he wished to ride to the camp. Ballyhoo had removed the saddle and bridle, which lay in the corner where Avon’s had awaited him.
The Texan stood a minute, looking around the room, as if trying to recall any forgotten duty, but thought of none.
“It is later than I suspected,” said he,202addressing his wife and consulting his watch again; “and we may as well retire.”
He lighted a common tallow candle, and with that in his hand, led the way up the ladder, followed by the others. Fifteen minutes later, everyone was sleeping as soundly as though the evening had not been disturbed by any unusual incident.
203CHAPTER XXIV.A STRANGE DELAY.
Meanwhile Avon Burnet and Gleeson continued riding northward at an easy gallop, their eyes and ears on the alert for sounds of their friends or enemies.
“Do you remember this spot?” asked the elder, drawing his mustang down to a walk, after going some distance.
The youth looked keenly round in the gloom, but saw only the level plain, similar to that over which they had ridden since leaving the cabin. A dark object on the ground caused him to force his pony toward it.
“That must be one of our cattle,” he said inquiringly.
“It’s what is left of him; that’s the steer that the Comanche brought down when he took a shot at you.”
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“Ah, this is the place where you joined me?”
“Percisely.”
“But where ishe––that is, his body?”
“They’ve took it off; you know how hard the Comanches try to carry away their dead and wounded.”
“I saw a proof of that while hunting for Thunderbolt, but I didn’t think they would be able to find this one.”
“They must have heard the shot and his cry, and though we made things hum about them, they took time to look into it and bear the body away.”
“I wonder now whether that could have been Wygwind,” said Avon, referring to the notorious leader of whom we have spoken.
“No,” was the decisive reply of Ballyhoo.
“Why not?”
“He is a powerful brave Injin, but plenty of his warriors can outrun him. This one was too good on his feet to be him.”
The couple gave their horses rein again, and they broke into a gallop which carried them swiftly toward their destination. The205glimmer of the camp-fire was discerned when they rode to the top of the next moderate elevation.
“Hark!” exclaimed Ballyhoo, abruptly checking his pony.
His companion did the same, for he had caught the sound, which was that made by many hoofs.
“The confounded beasts are still at it,” added the elder, allowing his steed to resume his walk.
“The boys may be driving them back to camp.”
“No; it doesn’t sound right.”
“Do you imagine the Comanches are taking any hand in this?”
“It doesn’t strike me so, but there’s no saying what those varmints will do; they’re so fond of stealing that they’ll run great risks.”
However, since the couple were able to locate the running animals, they felt it their duty to bear a hand in helping to bring them back to camp. There was danger that if they were not speedily brought under control, the start could not be made on time.
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“Come on, Baby,” called Gleeson, wheeling his animal to the right, and sending him off at a dead run.
Thunderbolt knew what was expected of him, and without waiting for orders, stretched away in the same direction, with the old thrill stirring his rider at the prospect of exciting work at hand.
It was not long before they caught sight of the frightened animals, going as if a legion of wolves were at their heels. They were running from camp, and, unless their course could be changed, would be far from it before daylight.
In fact their presence so comparatively near proved that they were either another part of the main herd, or if the ones first stampeded, had broken off again, after being well on their way to their regular pasturing grounds.
“Look out! they may be Comanches!” called Ballyhoo to his youthful companion. “No, they are not either.”
The last remark was caused by the sight of two of their friends riding like mad, shouting207and swinging their whips, which they had brought from camp. They were Madstone and Rickety, who were doing all they knew how to check the animals that seemingly would not be checked or turned aside.
It looked as if Ballyhoo and Avon must be trampled to death, for they were directly in front of the rushing herd, but they swung their arms, holding each his rifle aloft, and shouted loud enough to be heard miles distant.
The mustangs were a little nervous, but were used to such experiences, and they did not catch the contagion. They held their ground, though it was manifest they would have preferred to be somewhere else.
Suddenly, when the terrified beasts were almost upon them, they swerved to one side. The change of direction was slight, but it was important as a beginning. The cowboys were quick to take advantage of it, and redoubled their shoutings and gesticulations. The cattle trended further and further from the course they had been following, and ere long were headed toward the camp.