CHAPTER IIITEDDY BANES
Aftertheir many hours in the saddle the lads spent a comfortable night in the men’s quarters. True, Dave Brandon and Larry Burnham were the only ones fortunate enough to have bunks; but the other “seasoned veterans of mountains and plains,” as Larry facetiously dubbed them, rolled themselves up in blankets and slept as soundly as though in their own bedrooms at home.
On the following morning all were astir soon after the beams of light from the rising sun began to trace their cheerful course over the somber walls. They met two other troopers besides Stanford, Farr and Cole, and each declared himself heartily pleased to see the visitors.
“I hope to thunder you’re going to hang around here for a while, boys,” said Stanford, as they all sat at a long table in the mess room eating breakfast.
“Can’t,” answered Tom Clifton, laconically.
“Why not?”
“Well, you see, we’ve got to hunt for Jed Warren.”
“Tom is bound to give some pointers to the Mounted Police,” remarked Larry, with his usual drawl.
“Don’t try to be funny,” snapped Tom.
“You’re the only one around here that’s funny,” said the “promising football player,” with conviction.
“It’s too early in the morning to start scrapping, fellows,” laughed Dave. “What’s the program for to-day, Bob?”
“Of course I agree with Larry that it’s all nonsense for us to expect to beat the police at their own game,” began Bob. “Still——”
“Still what?” interposed Tom, with a toss of his head.
“Sergeant Erskine was good enough to tell me the direction in which Jed was going. He gave me a lot of other clues, too, which may help us to follow him up.”
“I knew you’d agree with my plan!” cried Tom, enthusiastically.
“His plan!” snickered Larry.
“Well, I’ll leave it to the crowd: didn’t I tell Sergeant Erskine last night——”
“Oh, yes—that the bunch was going to solve the mystery,” jeered Larry.
“Wouldn’t make us jealous a bit if you did, I’m sure,” said Stephen Stevens, with a hearty laugh. “Poor old Jed! He seemed to be a pretty good sort. For my part, I don’t believe a word of all this yawp about his deserting.”
“Can’t say I like the way his nag was found, though,” said Cole, shaking his head.
“Nor me, either,” admitted Farr.
“And Warren was certainly too good a rider to get thrown,” came from Stanford.
“I’m afraid Jed may have met with some serious accident,” said Sam Randall, thoughtfully. “I do wish to thunder all this hadn’t happened. We were going to have such dandy fun camping out.”
“I’ve got an idea that Jed’s all right,” insisted Tom, stoutly. “Say, fellows, what do you think? The sarge told me last night——”
From the tone of his voice one might have supposed that Tom and the sergeant had become the greatest of cronies.
“What?” asked Dick Travers.
“Jed’s a Canadian.”
“Get out!” cried Sam Randall.
“It’s a fact. Any of you chaps ever ask him where he came from?”
The noes had it unanimously.
“I knew it,” grinned Tom. “When we met Jed at Circle T Ranch in Wyoming I always thought he was an out and out bona fide American cowboy. Gee! A chap can’t be sure about anything—can he?”
“You seem to be sure about everything,” chirped Larry.
“I certainly am sure about your being the laziest fellow who ever traveled with our crowd,” retorted Tom, witheringly. “Say, Bob, let’s hurry up. You see, if——”
Tom suddenly stopped, for the faint sound of a footstep just outside reached his ears; and, on looking up, he saw a lean, muscular form suddenly appear in the doorway, a proceeding which threw a long, gaunt shadow over the floor.
As the rosy morning light played across it, Teddy Banes’ swarthy face suggested a head of bronze.
Tom Clifton was not at all pleased. He had taken a great dislike to the half-breed, and, somehow, felt it was cordially returned. The man’s sullen demeanor, a peculiar glint in his eyes, and his apparent contempt for the club inspired Tom with indignation.
“Good-morning,” saluted Bob Somers.
“Mornin’,” responded Teddy Banes, slipping upon his seat by the table. “How soon you go away?”
“Right after breakfast,” answered Bob.
“Back to States, eh?”
“Back to the States nothing,” sniffed Tom.
“Why? What you do, then?” inquired Banes, fixing his dark eyes intently upon him.
“Don’t you worry.”
“What you mean?”
“That our crowd doesn’t intend to get away from Canada until we’ve learned what happened to Jed Warren—that’s what I mean.”
“I certainly shouldn’t like to,” said Bob, thoughtfully.
“Shouldn’t like to! Well, for my part, I won’t!” cried Tom, emphatically.
His hand came down on the table with sufficient force to rattle the dishes.
“If necessary I suppose you’ll clear it all up alone,” teased Larry, winking in the direction of Farr.
The opportune appearance of the cook to serve the half-breed probably prevented a lively wrangle between the two, for the crushing retort which Tom was about to utter remained unspoken.
“One thing I tells you,” remarked Banes; “in a big country like this you boys get lost—starve, maybe.”
“Just listen to him,” said Tom, disgustedly. “Lost!—Starve! It shows just how much you know about us, Mr. Teddy Banes. Our crowd has traveled a lot and been in some pretty tight places—yes, sir. We know enough to keep out of any very bad mess.”
“Many bad mens around here—smugglers—cattle rustlers,” continued Banes. “They shoot, maybe—shoot to kill. You laugh! Ah! You think it is nothings! Ask Stanford; ask Cole. Listen!”—The half-breed raised a large brown finger in the air. “Much dangerous, I tell you again. Warren a brave man, yet he get scared; yes—so scared he desert.”
“No such thing!” stormed Tom.
“An’ I say yes. Better go, or maybe you never see home again.”
“That sounds interesting,” exclaimed Larry Burnham. “But in this confounded big country it wouldn’t be such a hard matter to get lost, as he says, Tom. An’ who knows but some of the chaps we’d meet might be pretty rough characters?”
“Oh, if you’re getting frightened,” began Tom.
“No, I’m not getting frightened, but talking common sense. Suppose we couldn’t find water? Or suppose, for instance——”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, don’t suppose any more. Fellows, let’s escort Larry over to the nearest railroad station and see him safely aboard,” said Tom, so disgusted that a hot flush mantled his cheek. “We don’t want any pullbacks or kickers in this crowd.”
“What’s the use of jawing so much?” put in Sam Randall. “Larry doesn’t want to back out.”
“You chaps look as if you were able to take care of yourselves,” said Farr, “and there isn’t much danger as long as you don’t wandertoo far away from the settlements or Indian villages. But as for your finding out anything about Jed Warren!”—he laughed—“sounds rather like a joke to me.”
“I sort o’ think it does,” drawled Larry.
“Your sort of thinks make me smile,” grumbled Tom.
“I believe in action—not words,” laughed Dave Brandon. “Wake me up, fellows, when it’s time to start.”
“It’s time now,” cried Dick Travers, jumping to his feet. “Let’s saddle up, boys, and hit the trail.”
“Where for?” asked one of the troopers.
“Sergeant Erskine told me there is a Cree village a good many miles to the northwest of here,” answered Bob Somers, “and as he said Jed Warren passed that way we thought we’d take it in and interview the chief.”
“Indians!” mused Larry, reflectively.
“Oh, you needn’t be afraid, son,” laughed Cole. “There isn’t anything fierce or warlike about ’em; though years ago, before the herds of buffalo had given place to long-horned cattle, they used to have some fierce mix-ups with the Sioux and Blackfeet.”
“I’ll be little Fear-not, with Tom Clifton along,” laughed Larry.
“In a couple of days you no more talk like that,” grumbled Teddy Banes. “I start for village this morning. We go together.”
This information had the effect of putting Tom in a very bad humor indeed. He wanted to get away from the sight of Teddy Banes’ sullen face; and to feel that he was going to have his company all day put a very frowning expression on his face. He was almost on the point of objecting, but, seeing that the announcement had no effect on his companions, refrained.
By the time the crowd had bidden Sergeant Erskine good-bye Stephen Stevens had the horses saddled and bridled. He saw to it, too, that the saddle bags were well filled.
The men who wore the scarlet jackets gathered around, as the horses, refreshed by rest and food, impatiently pawed the ground, or sought to pull away from restraining hands.
“Sorry you’re going so soon, boys,” said Farr. “Before leaving the country be sure to drop in and see us again.”
“You can just bet we will—and perhapswe’ll bring some news, too,” cried Tom, swinging into the saddle. “So-long, sergeant!” He waved his hand as the commanding figure of Erskine appeared at the headquarters door. “Whoop! Come on, fellows. The search begins.”
With farewells flung over their shoulders, the six riders galloped away, leaving the sullen, morose-looking Teddy Banes to follow at his leisure.
“Bah!” exclaimed the latter to Cole. “Make me sick. Why for you not tell them to go away?”
“Because I didn’t choose to,” laughed the other. “Besides, I reckon a few days traveling about with not a soul in sight but themselves will cure ’em of any hankerin’ to stay.”
“For sure. They go, an’ never come back,” agreed Banes.
And, with a surly nod which took in the entire group, he gave his reins a jerk, in obedience to which his brown and white-patched horse began to pound swiftly toward the gate.