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They were now on the run and the four men kept them there, determined that they should not get away again.
Madstone explained that they were the ones that took fright earlier in the evening, and were on a dead run, when Ballyhoo shot down the Comanche that was pursuing Avon Burnet. The cattle had drifted a considerable way, but they were soon brought under control and headed in the right direction.
All was going well, when off they went again at a more frantic rate than before. The cowboys were at loss to understand what caused the new outbreak, when, to their amazement, three Comanches appeared in their front.
The dusky scamps did their best to run them off, but it was evident they were afraid of the Texans, who made a dash for them, whereupon they disappeared.
But they had turned the cattle in a new direction, and the Texans had all their work to do over again. There was little prospect of success, until Ballyhoo and209Avon added their efforts, when matters assumed a better shape.
But the trouble was by no means over. If these animals should plunge into the main herd at the rate they were now going, they were sure to spread the panic, with the probability that the whole two thousand would soon be on the run, and the difficulty of the ranchmen intensified ten-fold.
Accordingly, as the ground was approached, the four horsemen resorted to the well-known practice of what may be called rounding-up. They galloped back and forth, on the outer edge of the herd, and here and there, circumnavigating them continually and as fast as the fleetness of their mustangs would permit.
By this means they finally succeeded in turning the heads of the cattle toward each other, and they were crowded into a compact mass, whose members were obliged to stand still, since they were huddled in one heap, with the yelling cowboys careering back and forth, around the circumference.
This was not accomplished a moment too soon, for they were close upon the main herd,210which showed a restlessness that might have broken forth into another stampede, but for the skill of the other cowboys who had them in charge.
When the reunion of the Texans took place near the camp-fire, and there was a general talk over the incidents of the evening, the arrangements were made for the night. All had been so actively engaged that rest would have been acceptable, but there was not one who would have murmured, had he been ordered to take his position and hold it for hours.
Indeed Avon Burnet volunteered to do his part in looking after the cattle that it was necessary to keep under watch through the darkness.
“No,” replied Ballyhoo, “I’ve fixed it. You and me will take a hand to-morrow night, when we’re likely to find it a blamed sight more unpleasant than now.”
“And why so?”
“That storm that we’ve been talking about is holding off, as though it finds it hard to make up its mind to come, but it will be here within twenty hours or less.”
211
“I am glad of it,” remarked the youth, thinking of his friends in the distant cabin, which had escaped burning by such a narrow chance.
It was now past midnight, and those who were to be off duty did not squander the precious hours; but, crawling into the covered wagon, bundled themselves up and slept the sleep which waits on rugged health.
At the earliest streakings of light the camp was astir. The man who served the party as cook had no light task on his hands. He generally carried a lot of wood in the wagon with him, for the reason that it was not always easy to obtain, and, by doing this, he was sure of always having enough dry fuel to burn readily when wanted.
Those Texans were satisfied at times to go without anything at all in the way of food, or to snatch a bite by checking their mustangs long enough to allow them to receive it, when they were off again; but whenever the opportunity for a “square meal” presented itself, they proved themselves full hands.
Gleeson, who acted as master during the212absence of Captain Shirril, mounted his horse and rode out to inspect the herd. He was relieved to find them all in place. Most of them were lying down, drowsily chewing their cuds, but a few had risen and were cropping the grass, which grew quite abundantly in the neighborhood.
While employed in this duty, Ballyhoo cast frequent looks in the direction of Captain Shirril’s home. He expected to see their leader before it was light, but the sun was already showing in the horizon and he was not in sight.
The Texan galloped to the top of the adjoining elevation, from which he could see the low flat building in the distance. Shading his eyes with his hand, he peered long and earnestly, but without catching sight of a horseman galloping toward him.
“It’s very odd,” thought Gleeson, “that he doesn’t show up; something must have taken place. I wonder if those varmints have come back after Baby and I left last night.”
It seemed impossible that anything like this should have occurred, but it was beyond his213power to explain the non-appearance of the “boss” on any other theory. He was prompt and energetic, and was more likely to be ahead than behind the time he set for his own appearance at a particular place.
Without giving expression to his fears, he joined the group at the wagon and partook of his breakfast, washing down his food with a cup of delicious steaming coffee. He avoided Avon for a time, because he plainly saw the young man was disturbed; but, when the meal was finished, the remarks became general over the absence of Captain Shirril.
“I’ve just come from the top of the swell,” said Madstone, who had been there since Ballyhoo, “and can’t see anything of him. I ’spose he has overslept himself, because of the flurry last night.”
“I wish I could believe it is nothing worse,” said Avon, walking thoughtfully out to where his mustang stood saddled and bridled.
“Why, what else could it be, Baby?” asked Ballyhoo, repressing his own uneasiness.
“That’s just what I want to find out; I tell214you, I don’t think we ought to stay here, when it’s pretty sure something is wrong at the house; if the Comanches are going to keep this up, it will never do to leave the women alone; I shall have to go back and stay with them.”
“I can’t believe it’s that, but we shall soon know.”
He sprang into the saddle, and the two rode to the elevation which has already been referred to several times.
“I will wait here,” said the elder, checking his animals, “while you ride on to the cabin.”
Avon looked inquiringly at him.
“Don’t you think it best you should go with me?”
“No; I will keep you under my eye all the way; if you see anything out of gear, you need only to signal, and I will fetch two or three of the boys with me.”
It struck the youth as strange that Ballyhoo should stop after starting for the dwelling. The young man had made up his mind there was something wrong there, and it seemed to215him like a waste of time for his friend to hold back.
However, he said nothing further in the way of protest, but, speaking briskly to Thunderbolt, sent him off at headlong speed toward the cabin.
“I am afraid this knocks all my plans to smithereens,” he said to himself; “for if there is the least danger of the Comanches putting in their appearance again, it would never do for me to leave home. It is bad enough for uncle to go, but there is no help in his case, while there is in mine.”
As he drew near the dwelling his feelings intensified, and all other thoughts went from him.
“I don’t see a sign of a living person,” he added, slowing the gait of his steed; “suppose the Comanches made a descent upon them in the night and managed to secure entrance––well, by gracious!”
216CHAPTER XXV.HEADING NORTHWARD.
Avon Burnet’s misgiving increased as he drew near the cabin of his uncle, for the unwonted stillness was impressive to the last degree. The only sign of life which caught his eye was the horse cropping the grass near the mesquite bush.
It seemed dangerous to do as he did, but in his anxiety he sprang to the ground and walked hastily to the front of the dwelling. Observing the latch-string out, he gave it a sharp twitch and the door swung open.
Dinah confronted him with a look of surprise, and just beyond her, he saw his aunt preparing the morning meal.
“Why, Avon, you are frightened,” said she with a smile.
“So I am; where’s uncle?”
“He will be down in a minute; when I awoke, I saw he was asleep, and I concluded217not to awake him. You know he had a hard time yesterday and last night, and I took the responsibility of not calling him. The poor man needs rest and it won’t hurt you folks to wait a while.”
The youth dropped into a chair and laughed.
“Well, now, that beats everything! We were worried half to death, and feared something dreadful had happened.”
“Nothing of the kind; we haven’t been disturbed since you and Gleeson went away. If we had, the captain would have been awake.”
The gentleman referred to was heard moving about overhead, and a few minutes later put in an appearance. He scolded his wife in a good-natured way for her well-meant kindness, and adding that no harm had been done, sat down to his morning meal.
The preliminaries were quickly finished, the good-by said, and leaping into his saddle, the captain joined his nephew in a smart gallop northward to camp, where they joined their anxious friends.
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And so what promised to furnish a stirring sensation proved nothing at all. It was rare that the Texan allowed his weariness to get the better of him, but it had done so in this case, and none laughed more heartily over it than he.
A brief investigation showed everything to be in readiness, and the sun was not far above the horizon when the start on the long journey northward was made.
The cattle seemed to have recovered from the restlessness of the night before, and were as tractable as could be desired. They moved forward at a moderate pace, having browsed so fully on the succulent grass that it was easy to keep them going, until nearly the middle of the day. At this time a halt was made for an hour, during which the cattle spread out on the sides of the well-marked trail, and ate as though they had not partaken of food for days.
Shortly after resuming the journey a small stream was reached, which was easily forded, there being no portion where it was necessary for the beasts to swim. All drank heartily,219and, upon climbing the sloping bank on the other side, another herd was observed several miles to the east.
“They haven’t got as many as we,” remarked the captain to Gleeson, who was riding by his side; “and I hope we shall keep far enough apart to prevent our cattle mixing.”
“He’s off the trail,” replied Ballyhoo, “but will come into it before long.”
“If we keep moving briskly, he must strike it behind us.”
It soon became evident that the other cattlemen were trying to force their herd to a point on the trail ahead of the larger drove, which was strung along for many yards. Since they were about equally far north, the struggle was an interesting one for some time; but the action of the smaller collection of cattle showed they were not as manageable as the larger one, and, before the close of day, they gave over the struggle and dropped back so far that, when they struck the trail, they were fully a mile to the rear.
The promised storm still hung off, though220the sky was cold and lowering, and toward night a misty rain began falling. It did not become severe at any time, but it added to the dismal gloom. The wind blew in gusts, much the same as on the previous evening, and the temperature fell until, had the cowmen been less accustomed to exposure, they would have suffered more than their animals.
Our friends did not forget to keep a lookout for the Comanches, who were likely to show themselves, whenever a chance presented itself for a raid upon the herd.
If they had been too roughly handled to venture upon anything of the kind, there were plenty of others to take their places, if only the temptation was strong enough.
The misty rain shortened the view in every direction, but the horsemen who dashed hither and thither, when the cattle showed a disposition to stray off, reported no signs of their old enemies, who, however, might be keeping out of sight until darkness should settle over the earth.
Prudence required that the cattle should be treated considerately, especially at the beginning221of the long journey, for it was to the interests of the owners that they should arrive at their destination in good condition. Like men in training for a pedestrian contest, particular care was needed at the start to prevent a general breakdown. After a few days the beasts, if well used, would be able to stand much more.
It, therefore, lacked considerable of night when the final halt was made, and the cattle were allowed to crop the grass until they became sated and chose to lie down.
The men in charge of the other herd were equally thoughtful, for they came to a pause about the same time, with nearly a mile separating the camps. It was hardly dark, indeed, when a horseman was seen approaching from the southward, on an easy gallop, and there was no doubt that he belonged to the other party.
“It’s my old friend Sclevinger,” said Captain Shirril, recognizing the visitor, as he saluted, and, checking his steed beside that of the old Texan, extended his hand, with the heartiest of salutations.
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“I suspected it was you,” said the new arrival, whose pleasant countenance was covered by as shaggy a growth as that of the captain, “and I concluded I would run over and shake hands.”
“That’s right, pard. I’m mighty glad to see you; you must take supper with us.”
“Thank you, I guess I will,” replied Sclevinger, dismounting and accepting the invitation as readily as it was given; “I tried to run in my herd ahead of you this afternoon,” he added, with a twinkle of his fine eyes, “but I couldn’t quite make it.”
“We saw what you were up to, and we had to bestir ourselves to head you off. How many have you, colonel?”
“Only about twelve hundred––that is, Ihadtwelve hundred, when I started from the ranch two days ago, but we lost nearly a hundred yesterday.”
“How was that?” asked the captain, as they reached the provision wagon, and paused while the cook made their meal ready.
“A confounded lot of Comanches cut out223some of our cattle, and, despite all we could do, got off with them.”
“They have been hanging round us, but didn’t do anything. Seems to me, colonel, you shouldn’t have allowed that.”
“That’s what makes me so mad,” was the bluff response of the guest. “It was just after crossing the creek to the southwest, which doesn’t lie in your way. A lot of the beasts took fright at something, and away they went on a bee line for Arizona. I thought a couple of the boys would be able to bring them back, and I sent them off, while the other four looked after the main herd. Thank you,” said the colonel, as he took the hot coffee from the hand of his host.
“Well, I judge from what you said, they didn’t bring back the hoofs,” observed the captain, interested in the narrative of his friend.
“No, by George, it was worse than that. Three or four hours after the stampede, one of the men came in sight, riding like mad. There were no cattle with him, and he was224alone. I saw that one of his hands was bleeding badly, and he had a woful story to tell. He said he and the other fellow were working like the mischief to turn the animals back, and had almost succeeded, when the first they knew a dozen whooping Comanches were right upon them.
“It was bang, bang, shoot, cut, yell, and whoop her up again, with no thought of doing anything but save themselves. The other chap fought like a Trojan, but his horse was killed and he went down with half the fiends on him, fighting as long as the breath remained in his body.
“The one who came back with the news was pretty badly cut up and had the closest kind of a call, but his horse was better than any of the others and he managed to escape.”
“Of course it was idle to think of getting your cattle after that,” remarked the captain.
“I was so infuriated that I gathered the rest of the men, intending to take the trail, but by the time I was ready, I became cooler,225and saw it would never do. Haven’t you been troubled with the redskins?”
“Not in the manner that you have, but they stirred things up for us last night.”
Thereupon, Captain Shirril gave an account of his own experience in his cabin. His friend listened attentively to his story, for it was interesting. He remarked, at its conclusion, that the Indians had been more troublesome that spring than he had ever known them. Twice, within the preceding month, they attempted to steal a number of his cattle, but failed in each instance, with the loss of several of their warriors.
“And in my opinion we are likely to have more trouble before we get through the Indian country,” added the colonel.
“I think so, too; it will be well for us to get not too far from each other, for we ought to be in shape to give mutual support.”
“Of course; there must be other droves on the march, and we ought to get a twist on them that will make them squeal.”
The supper being finished, the two leading cattlemen sat down under the shelter226of the covered wagon and smoked their pipes. They had been old army officers, though Colonel Sclevinger fought on the Union side in the war. The singular feature (and yet it was not so singular either), was that they had come in contact more than once during that period. It fell to the lot of the colonel to take the captain prisoner. He treated the brave Texan with so much consideration that a strong friendship was formed, which remained uninterrupted to the present time.
It was by Captain Shirril’s invitation that Colonel Sclevinger came to Texas on the return of peace. The Northern man felt an interest in the ranch business, but followed the counsel of the Texan, who warned him against going blindly into it. He took pains to give him points, and, when the proper time arrived, helped him to that extent that the gentleman avoided the disastrous blunders committed by those who fancy the ranch business offers a straight avenue to wealth, without any preliminary training in its many difficulties.
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Enough has been told to explain the friendship between the two men. The colonel intended to make only a brief call, but he so enjoyed the company of his old friend that he sat a long time in the wagon, smoking and exchanging reminiscences of the war times, which theme must ever be deeply entertaining to those who were actors in that tremendous epoch of our nation’s history.
Finally the visitor bade his friend good-night, and, mounting his horse, galloped off in the night.
Avon Burnet had listened to a part of the conversation, for he was always interested in what this occasional visitor to their cabin had to say, but he could not remain as long as he wished. It was arranged that he should assume his place in helping to watch the herd, Ballyhoo Gleeson being one of those sharing the duty with him.
So it was that the youth rode out in the dismal rainy night to make a “full hand” at the calling of a cattleman.
228CHAPTER XXVI.A SHOT FROM THE DARKNESS.
It was singular that Avon Burnet’s most humiliating experience overtook him on his first night in helping to watch his uncle’s herd of cattle, while following the Great Cattle Trail toward Kansas.
The starting point was so far north in Texas that the first day carried them close to the Indian Nation, through whose territory they expected to tramp for several days.
The night, as has been explained, was raw, with a fine, misty rain and a cutting wind. The youth was seated on his fleet-footed and intelligent Thunderbolt, with his back to the wind, after the fashion not only of all cowboys, under such circumstances, but of the animals themselves, who sometimes drift many miles before a driving storm.
He had his thick army blanket gathered229about his body and shoulders, and, though the night was dismal and his situation far from pleasant, it still lacked the discomfort of many hours spent on the vast plains of the Lone Star State.
The young man had held his position for less than an hour when the wind changed, veering completely around, so that, instead of being in front of the herd and edging gradually from it, he was thrown behind the cattle, for they immediately faced about and began moving away from him.
The situation of the young herdsman became a delicate one at once. His proper place was in front, and to reach that point, he must ride around the animals, and not among them. One of the many singular features of herding and driving cattle is the wonderful sensitiveness shown at times by them. While there is nothing extraordinary in the wild panic often created by a thunderstorm, there are occasions when a whole herd is stampeded by a cause too trifling to be understood.
Our experience leads us to agree with230many veteran cowboys that the cattle, when lying on the ground asleep, are sometimes troubled with bad dreams which cause such fright on their part that their excitement becomes contagious. Then again the electrical conditions produce a morbid uneasiness among them as well as among men, and there seem to be times when they are simply awaiting a pretext for dashing off in uncontrollable panic.
Avon Burnet’s fear was that if he rode directly after the cattle, the sound of his mustang’s hoofs would cause alarm, since it was too dark for them to identify him. A stampede is the terror of the cowmen’s life, and no labor or trouble is too great to avert it. He, therefore, checked Thunderbolt and waited a few minutes until the cattle were so far off that he could wheel and gallop around their flank without frightening them.
When he thought sufficient time had elapsed, he decided to wait a brief while longer. His dread of a stampede was so strong that he was unusually careful, but231with no thought of shirking any duty, he twitched the reins of his horse, spoke sharply, and without touch of spur, was off like an arrow.
Although not an animal was visible, the rider had the contour of the herd so vividly impressed on his mind that he felt no misgiving, when he began edging his steed more to the left, and finally brought him to a stand-still, as he believed, at the very front of the collection. Indeed, his confidence would not have been greater had the sun been shining.
But when he halted and listened he failed to hear anything of them.
“I must have ridden too far ahead,” was his conclusion, as he started his horse on a walk to meet them; “but they are surely near by.”
Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed, and then he drew rein with an exclamation of amazement, for his keen sense of hearing did not catch the first sound of the cattle.
“I have lost the herd!” he muttered in dismay, and such was the fact. His cheeks burned with chagrin at the consciousness of232what at first thought seems an impossible error on the part of man or youth with any experience in attending cattle.
It was Avon’s first mishap of the kind, and he felt as though he could never face his comrades again, if they should discover the blunder, which, after all, was not so striking, when the attendant circumstances are borne in mind.
But if excuse could be accepted for his slip, there was none for inaction after its discovery. It was not to be supposed that the animals would set out to hunt him, nor that any knowledge could be gained of them by idleness. There were other men on duty, and he shouted at the top of his voice, in the hope of receiving a response, but there was none.
Slipping from his saddle, he knelt down and placed his ear to the ground. He fancied he detected faint sounds, such as are made by multitudinous hoofs on the soft, wet earth, but the noises were so slight that he could not identify the direction whence they came, and he hastily climbed into the saddle again.
He realized that he was lost, and well aware233that at such times it is useless to puzzle one’s brains about the point of the compass, he dashed in the direction which seemed to be the right one. Of course, as in his recent experience, it proved to be wrong, and he now spurred toward the top of the ridge or hill, which it was easy to identify under the tread of his mustang. He was confident that this elevation would yield the key to the situation and he was not mistaken.
From the crest he observed the starlike glimmer of a lantern, and no sight, except that of the herd itself, could have been more welcome. It was the signal suspended every night from the front bow of the wagon, to guide the men whenever they needed guidance.
Confident that someone would be found at that point who could give him the important news he was seeking, Avon rode thither on a dead run. He saw no one stirring as he galloped up. The cook, who had charge of the wagon, was asleep, and the men off duty were slumbering soundly, while the chance was theirs.
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But young Burnet had scarcely checked his mustang, when the sound of someone riding his horse equally fast reached his ear, and the next instant Oscar Gleeson dashed beside him.
“Howdy, Baby, is that you?” he asked, peering at the young man dimly seen in the scant yellow rays of the lantern.
“Yes, Ballyhoo,” was the reply; “I’m in trouble.”
“What is it?”
“I’ve lost the herd.”
The Texan shook in his saddle with laughter.
“That’s me, too; the first thing I knowed they was gone. I yelled for you, but you couldn’t have heard me, and, after cantering round awhile, I struck for the wagon in quest of news.”
Avon drew a sigh of relief, and with a smile:
“I’m glad you lost them, for the boys won’t laugh at you, while they would at me.”
“I don’t think there’s anyone in that crowd that will laugh, for they all had the235same experience. I know Old Bronze and Short Stop have lost a herd more than once.”
“It won’t do to stay here,” remarked Avon, “for you know there is another herd only a mile off, and if the two become mixed, it will be a big job to cut out ours to-morrow.”
“I shouldn’t wonder,” replied Gleeson, “if the cattle have gone back to the bed-ground; at any rate we’ll look for them there.”
The return to the wagon enabled the couple to obtain their bearings, and they knew the proper course to reach the spot, but the possibility of the theory being wrong caused them to separate, so as to proceed thither by routes which, while substantially parallel, were so far apart that they were out of each other’s sight and hearing, the latter being chiefly due to the direction of the wind.
Avon spurred Thunderbolt into an easy canter, the soft grass making the travel easy, though there was always the risk of his animal sinking one or more of his hoofs into a hole, with the prospect of a broken leg for the horse and a dislocated neck for his rider.
When it seemed to the latter that he had236passed the intervening distance, he drew his mustang to a walk, listening and peering through the gloom with all the power at his command. There was no lighting of the darkness, the wind still blew keenly, and the fine drizzling rain continued.
No sight nor sound came to him, and, once more bringing his animal to a halt, he dismounted and pressed his ear to the ground.
This time he caught a distinct noise: it was that made by the hoofs of a horse. He was walking, and was so near that Thunderbolt pricked his ears and uttered a faint whinny of salutation. Avon instantly rose to his feet, and remounted.
Looking keenly into the wet darkness, he became aware that a horse was standing motionless but a short distance off on his left. In the gloom the outlines could be traced, but so dimly that he was uncertain whether he had a rider or not. The steed held his head well up like Thunderbolt, and appeared to be scrutinizing the youth and his animal with a curiosity equal to theirs.
There was something so impressive in the237sight of the statue-like object, which emitted not the slightest sound, that young Burnet hesitated whether to advance or to await its approach. The man could not be Gleeson, and, whoever he was, it was evident that he regarded Avon with inquiring suspicion.
But unwilling to maintain the trying situation, the latter touched the neck of his mustang in a way which the animal recognized as a command to move forward very slowly. He obeyed, and had advanced but a few short steps when Avon to his astonishment perceived that the strange horse was without a rider.
“I don’t understand that,” mused the mystified young man, stopping his own animal, with several yards separating them; “he must have an owner, and what can have become of him, and why is–––”
At that instant he observed a suspicious movement, seemingly from the other side of the steed. Before he could divine its nature, a rifle was discharged almost in his face and he went off his mustang like a flash.
238CHAPTER XXVII.SHACKAYE, THE COMANCHE.
Avon Burnet was in the act of lifting his Winchester from across the front of his saddle, when he made the discovery that, although the strange mustang in front of him bore no rider, yet a man was on the ground directly beyond and evidently watching every movement made by himself.
This discovery could mean but one thing: the individual was an enemy, and was on the point of making a hostile movement against him. He had undoubtedly dismounted on learning of Burnet’s approach and interposed his steed between them. Despite the gloom on every hand, Avon read aright the meaning of the almost imperceptible movement on the other side of the saddle, and he slipped from the back of his mustang with a celerity which, being displayed almost at the instant of the239discharge of the other weapon, looked as if it was the result of a fatal shot.
But, although the bullet so treacherously fired came near its mark, the youth was not touched. His action was in the nick of time: a second later could not have availed him.
He was incensed, as he had the best cause for being, and he resolved that the miscreant should not escape him. His rifle was snatched from its resting-place, and, stepping from behind Thunderbolt, he drew the best bead possible on his foe.
The dexterity of the latter was marvellous. It was as if, at the very instant of discharging his weapon, he had vaulted into the saddle, and, wheeling the head of his horse away, sent him scurrying straight from his intended victim.
Not only that, but, in accordance with the fashion of the frontier in such emergencies, he flung himself forward on the neck of his animal, so as to offer the least possible target to the other, who, if not hit hard, was certain to return the shot.
The curious feature of the proceeding was240that the man, having seen the youth vanish from the back of his steed at the instant the gun was discharged, did not assume that he was killed. Possibly such was his supposition, and his hasty flight was partly due to his anxiety to place himself beyond reach of his friends, who were likely to be drawn thither by the sound of firing. His act in throwing himself upon the neck of his mustang was simply in obedience to the rule which requires the frontiersman to avail himself of every possible means of safety, even when there is seemingly no call for it.
Despite the quickness of young Burnet, he was able to bring his Winchester to a level only at the moment the steed was thundering out of sight in the darkness, but heletfly three times in rapid succession, reckless whether he struck rider or animal; but since the sound of the hoofs still came to him, he was chagrined at the conviction that he had missed both.
“But you haven’t escaped me yet,” he muttered, swinging himself into the saddle; “there is no horse in Texas or the Indian241Nation that can leave me behind; now, Thunderbolt, run him down!”
But, while the fates had been kind to Avon, in that he escaped death by the narrowest conceivable chance, they seemed equally well disposed toward the object of his wrath. The boast of the pursuer as to the fleetness of his mustang was warranted, and had the circumstances continued favorable for only a few minutes, he would have brought his young rider beside the fleeing steed, where the account between the two men must have been quickly settled.
But at the very moment of starting, the forelegs of Thunderbolt sank into a hole above the knees. His activity saved him from harm, but his rider took a header over his ears, sprawling on the wet grass in front with a shock that stunned him.
By the time he could rally and remount his mustang, the other was not only beyond sight, but his listening ear could not detect the slightest sound of the flying hoofs.
“He has escaped this time,” thought Avon, as he once more resumed his place in the242saddle, “but the account is still open and must be settled very soon.”
He was right, except that the account was closed not only sooner than he suspected, but in a manner of which he never dreamed.
Despite his alarming experience he had not lost his reckoning, and, facing toward the bed-ground of the herd, he had ridden but a short way, when the familiar sounds told him he was near the animals from which he was lost only a short time before.
“They are here, Baby, just as I thought.” The remark was made by Gleeson, who loomed up in the gloom as he spoke, with his mustang on a deliberate walk.
“I am glad of that, and, since no one beside you and me knows of our slip last night, we’ll keep it to ourselves.”
“I’ve no objection; but didn’t I hear a gun go off a few minutes ago? What was you shooting at?”
“It wasn’tI––someone shot atme.”
And thereupon Avon related the particulars of his encounter with the treacherous horseman. Gleeson listened and said nothing until243he had finished. Then, with a characteristic exclamation, he expressed his regret that Thunderbolt should have stumbled as he did.
“Keep your eyes open,” he added. “I’ll do the same, and we’ll get the drop on him soon.”
“Why does he want to hurtme?” asked Avon, “when there has never been a word between us?”
“It’s the nature of the animal,” was the reply. “It wouldn’t have made any difference whether it was you or me, so he thought he had a sure thing of it. That’s what he’s here for.”
It was evident from these words that each of the speakers was satisfied as to the identity of the one that had fired the well-nigh fatal shot. Gleeson named him immediately.
“I warned the cap, when he hired that Comanche, that we would have trouble with him. We left Texas a little short-handed, but we could have got through well enough without him. Howsumever, Shackaye, as244you remember, rode into camp one day and asked the cap to give him a job, and the cap done it.”
“I recall your words about him, and I thought they were not justified; but what made you so suspicious?”
The Texan uttered an impatient exclamation.
“In the first place he’s an Injin, andthatought to be enough. I never seen one of his race that it’s safe to trust; they’ll shoot the man that gives them a cup of water or a piece of bread. Talk about Injin gratitude! There aint any such thing.”
“What did my uncle say to your sentiments?”
“He laughed in that quiet way of his, and said maybe as I was right, but he didn’t see what we had to fear from one Injin that was in camp with us; he reckoned we could pull his teeth before he could bite enough to hurt.”
“I am sure he will think differently when he hears my story.”
“Don’t tell him or anyone else a word about it. Promise me that.”
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“And why?” asked the surprised Avon.
“Well,” was the hesitating answer, “I’ve several reasons: one of them is that though you and me have fixed on the Comanche as the chap, we aint sure of it. It looks very much that way, but it may be someone else after all. We mustn’t make any mistake, and above all, don’t let Shackaye think we suspect him.”
The youth gave his promise, though in his mind there was no doubt of the identity of the man that had come so near shooting him from his mustang. He saw the wisdom of not allowing Shackaye to know that he was suspected.
The cattle having been located, the couple had little to do but to hold them where they were. This proved less difficult than at other times. They had the help of Burrell, or Old Bronze, in the work, and the three did little but ride back and forth, timing their course in such a way that they skirted the large body of animals, often meeting and exchanging greetings, but more often passing without seeming to see each other.
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Sometimes one of the cattle would show a determination to dash away from the main body, but before he went far, a horseman was in front of him and he was forced back. The night was too chilly for sleeping, else one or more of the herders would have stretched out on the damp earth, with his bridle reins so interlocked with his arm that his horse could not wander off, or he would have fallen asleep in his saddle. When worn out with fatigue and loss of slumber, a cowboy often rides for miles totally unconscious of what is going on around him.
247CHAPTER XXVIII.A MISHAP.
The weather cleared toward morning, and the sun rose without a cloud obscuring its face. The halt had been made along a small tributary of the Wichita, whose upper waters flow through the country of the Kiowas, Comanches, and Apaches, that of the Cheyennes and Arapahoes lying further north.
The scene was inspiriting. The cowboys gathered around the wagon for breakfast, the cook having been thoughtful enough to protect the wood against the rain. The animals were busy cropping the grass, which was rich and succulent on all sides of the Trail, the hands for the time being bestowing only general attention on them, but everyone was ready to leap into the saddle and dash off at a instant’s call.
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Captain Shirril discovered that a bunch of thirty cattle were missing, and believed they had joined his friend’s herd a mile to the southward, from which it would be necessary to separate or cut them out.
Antonio Nunez, the Mexican, and Shackaye, the Comanche (the latter of whom showed no evidence of having been engaged in questionable business during the preceding night), were similarly attired, though it would be supposed that the full-blooded Indian would have dressed in accordance with the fashion of his people. He claimed, however, to have been engaged in the cattle business before, and, when he first presented himself in camp on his wiry pony, he wore the broad-brimmed sombrero, baggy leather breeches, and red sash around his waist, which were the most noticeable features of the Mexican’s make-up.
The Comanche, however, used no spurs, his feet being shod with moccasins, and, instead of the revolver worn by the Mexicans, he carried a knife thrust in at his girdle and a breech-loading rifle, which was not repeating.
The cowboys sported the same broad-brimmed249hats, which in some instances cost more than all the rest of their suits, the leggings, flannel overshirts, and gaudy handkerchiefs tied loosely around their necks.
All, as a matter of course, were expert horsemen, and were furnished with two or three excellent animals apiece, for their business is as trying upon them as upon the men.
The meal was quickly finished, and Captain Shirril, with two of his hands, set out for the camp to the rear, where he hoped to find the missing cattle. Since there was a possibility that they had strayed in other directions, three more men were despatched to make search.
It was rather curious that the captain selected as his assistants his nephew Avon and the young Comanche Shackaye. When they were riding off, Gleeson, the Texan, looked at the youth and winked, but said nothing.
Half-way to the camp, the three galloped over a ridge or swell in the prairie, when to their surprise they came upon the missing animals browsing just beyond.