The keen eye of Injun detected another thing.
The keen eye of Injun detected another thing.
The keen eye of Injun detected another thing.
"What about it?" he asked; "what happened here?"
"Him looselatigo," said Injun. "Pull 'em tight," and Injun illustrated how a man would dig his heel into the ground as he had exerted a powerful pull at a saddle-cinch. Injun leaned back as he made the imaginary pull, and the thorny branch of the bush swept his side and caught slightly in his shirt. It was all plain to Whitey now.
"Say!" he exclaimed, in undisguised admiration, "Sherlock Holmes has nothing on you! He never doped out anything better 'n that!"
Injun looked blankly at him, never having heard of Sherlock Holmes; but Whitey's manner was unmistakably complimentary, and so Injun let it go at that. Whitey was about to take the threads from the branch, but Injun stopped him. He broke the branch that held the threads from the bush, carefully peeling the bark for several inches down the stem, and put it into his quiver. Then he marked the bush and the spot so that he could easily recognize them again. Then the two boys mounted their horses and rode back over the trail toward the creek, which was rocky and shallow, and could be easily forded without swimming.
When the boys arrived at the creek, having retraced the trail without incident, although it was well past three o'clock in the afternoon, Whitey and Injun had no thought of abandoning their quest. After a consultation, they proceeded to cross to the other side of the creek and to examine the other bank in the hope that Injun's keen vision would be able to discern things that Bill and his men had missed. They followed the course of the stream down to where it emptied into the Elkhorn, a distance of perhaps a mile and a half; but, though Injun dismounted several times and scrutinized the ground carefully, there were no signs that cattle had landed anywhere along the route.
Whitey was puzzled. Arguing on the principle that "what goes up must come down," and "what goes in must come out, or stay there," Whitey said:
"If the cattle went into the creek, they must have come outsomewhere; or else," he added, after a moment, "they must be in it yet."
This admitted of no discussion, and Injun did not attempt to refute it. It did not seem probable that the cattle were still in the creek, and it seemed hardly possible that the cattle could have gone into the creek, swum all the way down to the Elkhorn, and then continued down the larger stream—but there appeared to be no other alternative; and Whitey determined to investigate even such an improbable thing as that.
In one way, Whitey was in command of the expedition, and Injun readily complied with any plan of campaign that he suggested. The details of the investigation and the deductions drawn from them were in Injun's hands, and very capable hands they were, too.
Accordingly it was agreed that Injun should swim to the left bank of the Elkhorn and follow it down, while Whitey followed the right bank, keeping as nearly parallel as possible. The Elkhorn was not more than a hundred yards wide, and the two boys could call to each other easily and communicate any finds that either made. This they proceeded to do.
The investigation was greatly simplified, at least on Whitey's side, by the fact that the bank of the Elkhorn offered very few possible landing-places, being high and steep, and there were few places that needed examination at all. On Injun's side, however, the ground required more careful scrutiny; but on neither side did anything develop. And before they were aware, they were almost at the Ross ranch.
The ranch lay just around a bend in the Elkhorn, on the left bank, and where the river was indented by a small bight, or pointed bay, that extended for several yards into the ranch property. The left bank of this bight was high above the water, and thickly covered by vines and shrubs that grew down to the water's edge, and many of them overhung the water, which was shallow at that point.
Once the boys were in sight of the ranch, the cautiousness of Injun manifested itself. He knew that the Ross outfit were none too partial to him, and he also knew that it would be unwise, if not unsafe, for him to be found so near to it. And riding down into the water, where the high bank concealed him from view, he rode cautiously around the bend of the bayou. Whitey, on the opposite bank, watched Injun's movements closely; and finally, in response to a signal, swam his horse across and landed under the high bank near Injun, whom he found examining the narrow shore or beach of the bayou under the high bank. The surface of the ground, which was sandy and covered with pebbles, had been undoubtedly disturbed recently; but it was seemingly impossible to tell by what. There were deep marks as though heavy planks had been pushed against it, and the ground about showed the hoof-marks of horses. These also were discernible in the mud under the shallow water. On the small beach it looked as though an attempt had been made to obliterate these marks, for the sand showed evidences of having been recently turned over in places.
Dismounting from his horse, Injun pulled aside the branches and bushes but nothing was revealed save the flat, gray face of the rock of the bank. Injun looked keenly at this for a moment; and then putting out his hand, found that it yielded to his touch! The rock wasn't rock at all! And going to one side, he found that what seemed to be rock was nothing more nor less than a heavy canvas, painted a dark gray to resemble rock, and smeared with mud and pieces of grass and leaves! So skillfully was this done, that it required close scrutiny to reveal it; and from a distance, even of ten or fifteen feet, it would never have awakened the slightest suspicion!
Lifting the edge of the canvas, Injun disclosed an opening in the face of the cliff nearly six feet high and of about the same breadth, and into this the two boys crept cautiously, leaving their horses on the narrow strip of beach near the entrance.
The interior of the cavern or tunnel was quite dark; but Whitey had been in the West long enough to learn that one of the most necessary things in a plainsman's equipment is matches. Injun, of course, had his flint and steel and tinder, but they would have necessitated the lighting of a torch, which would have been dangerous on account of the chance of discovery. They proceeded slowly along the tunnel, Injun examining it carefully, and a few yards from the entrance they found a number of very heavy planks so fashioned that they could be linked together to form a rude raft. The logs were wet and water-soaked. And the mystery of how the cattle got out of the river was no longer a mystery!
Whitey's first idea was, that having discovered this much, and thus definitely fixing the manner and means of the disappearance of the cattle, it would be a good thing to make a get-away while there was yet time, and report their discoveries to the Bar O outfit; and it would have been well for him if he had followed this plan. But Whitey was nothing if not courageous, and he was also impelled by an intense curiosity to fathom the rest of the mystery. If he could locate and identify the lost cattle, which would be easy on account of the brand, and possibly the one with the deformed hoof would be among them, his investigations would then be complete. But unfortunately for the success of this plan, there were certain difficulties in the way which neither Whitey nor Injun could foresee; and certain contingencies happened which had their fortunate side as well as their unfortunate.
The two horses had been left untied on the narrow strip of beach outside the tunnel entrance. Left alone, Injun's cayuse would have stood there for many hours. But Whitey's horse, Monty, was not, as yet, so well trained; and after a time began to be restless. The spot was not exactly an attractive one in which to stand for an indefinite time, and Monty finally retraced his steps around the bend and out of the bayou where there were grass and sunshine. With such an example, the pinto slowly followed; but scarcely had Monty come around the bend when a rattler that was sunning himself on the rocks sounded his warning, and Monty gave a frightened snort and proceeded to "beat it" away from there in a panic.
When a horse is badly frightened and starts to run in a panic, the first thought that comes into his head is to get home as fast as he can; and Monty proceeded to put this idea into execution. He tore along the bank, and at the proper place swam the stream, and was soon well on his way back toward the Bar O ranch.
By the time Injun's horse got around the bend the rattler had disappeared, and therefore he was not thrown into any panic, as Monty had been. Monty was not in sight either; and so, although he probably wondered what had become of his pal, he climbed the bank and proceeded to graze on the sweet grass, plainly visible from the windows of the Ross ranch!
Meanwhile, the two boys went cautiously along further into the tunnel, which appeared to be of natural origin, as though a stream had eaten its way through the porous rock in search of an outlet—a sort of natural drain. The hole, originally small, had been enlarged by digging up to its present size. There was a continual rise in the floor of the tunnel as it receded from the water, and the floor of it was wet with a very small stream trickling down toward the entrance.
The boys had proceeded perhaps a hundred feet from the entrance, when they came upon a sudden enlargement in the tunnel which took almost the form of a large room. The top or ceiling was so high as to be invisible to them, and the place itself was evidently a natural cavern. Whitey lighted a match, and its flare disclosed the fact that the chamber was some twenty-five or thirty feet across, and in it, among other things, were several large barrels and packing-cases.
As the boys started to cross the room, keeping a little to the side, the match went out and they were again enveloped in darkness so thick that they could feel it. Whitey was about to scratch another match, but he felt Injun's hand clutch his arm and draw him still further toward the side of the chamber. Whitey had heard nothing, and knew of no reason for this; but he was quite willing to be guided by Injun's superior senses.
In a few seconds, however, he heard foot-steps coming toward them from the upper end of the chamber, and caught a faint glimmer of light. Injun hastily and noiselessly pulled Whitey toward one of the boxes that were scattered about that side of the chamber, and behind this the two boys crouched as the sound of the foot-steps indicated that some one was coming in their direction. Whitey's heart was beating so loud that he felt sure that any one who came near him must surely hear it. A moment afterward this was probably true in Injun's case, also—and for a good reason!
Into the far end of the chamber came the light of a lantern, and as it illuminated the space about the man who carried it, Whitey could see that he was dark-haired and swarthy, though rather under-sized, but very wiry. He was clad in a multi-colored Mackinaw jacket, with the regulation cowman's trousers and boots, with his revolver in the holster at his side. The man came directly toward the boys and Whitey instinctively grasped the handle of the little pearl-handled .22 that Atherton had given him and which he had always carried in the hip-pocket of his trousers. True, he had his rifle with him; but he felt that at close quarters the revolver would be more valuable. (Even a .22 fired at close range can be annoying; besides, he might throw it at the man and do more damage than if he shot him with it!)
The man came directly to the box behind which the two boys were hidden and it seemed as though discovery was inevitable; had he lifted the lantern high, it could not have been avoided. But he placed it onto the floor and reached down into the box and took out several objects which the boys afterward saw to be bottles of liquor of some kind. He was so close that either Injun or Whitey could have put out a hand and touched him, and they could hear his heavy breathing, for plainly he was partially drunk. Each of the boys held himself tense, and was ready for a vigorous defense, and against the knife that Injun gripped in his hand, to say nothing of the pop-gun that Whitey held, the man, unprepared as he was, would probably have fared badly.
But at length, when he had taken out several bottles, he picked up the lantern from the floor and started to retrace his steps. Suddenly he stopped and came back near to the box. Setting down the bottles, he picked up one of the burned matches that Whitey had thrown on the floor of the chamber and examined it carefully. Again the boys held their breath, and Whitey upbraided himself for his carelessness. After examining the match for a moment or two, the man took up the lantern and looked about the chamber. He started as though to go out toward the entrance, but thought better of it; and after another cursory look about him, he went away as he had come. The sound of his foot-falls became fainter and fainter; the light from the lantern grew dimmer and dimmer; and at last, the foot-falls died away entirely, and complete darkness enveloped them again. For a moment they crouched in silence; then Whitey felt Injun's hand grasp his arm, and heard Injun whisper into his ear:
"Him Pedro!" he said.
In the living-room of the Ross ranch were congregated almost the entire outfit. Around the centre-table a game of cards was in progress, and the fortunes of the game had reduced the number engaged in it to four. Some six or seven of the other men either looked on or were sprawled about the place in various stages of intoxication; and the number of empty bottles that littered the place gave evidence that it had been quite a long session.
Ross was at the table, and the big stack of chips in front of him indicated that he was the big winner. His shirt was open half way down to his waist and his broad, hairy chest was exposed. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, and if anything, his hair and beard were more unkempt than usual, which is saying a good deal. Altogether, with his bloated face and bleary eyes, he did not make a very pleasant picture.
Crowley, his foreman, the tall man whom Jordan had recognized as the "jail-bird" that he had delivered at San Quentin, sat opposite to Ross, and he, too, had considerable money in front of him. The other two men in the game were about "down to the cloth," and were just "hanging on the ragged edge of nothing." As Pedro entered the room with the bottles, Crowley raked in a sizable pot, getting a call from one of the losers.
"Jes' like takin' candy from children," sneered Crowley, as he looked at the two contemptuously. "Yo' pikers is 'bout six ounces lighter'n a straw hat! Where 'd yo' all learn this game, anyway?"
"I guess the school I learnt at," said one of the men, significantly, "was some short o' knowin' some o' the sleight-o-hand work I done seen yo' pull! Dealin' seconds wasn't on the bill-o'-fare!"
For an answer, Crowley grabbed a bottle and was about to caress the man with it when Ross reached over and seized his arm in a powerful grip.
"Cut it out!" shouted Ross; "I'm short-handed now, an' besides I don't want to hev to explain no more disappearances!"
"Let the big stiff throw it, Ross! I'll give him a receipt fer it—I got an ace in the hole myself this time," and he fingered the butt of his revolver.
Whether the affair would have stopped there or not is a question, had not Pedro entered with the bottles; but, at any rate, the two belligerents subsided, and confined themselves to growls and evil glances at each other. In a few moments the game seemed about to break up—and Ross had accumulated most of the money; and what he did not win fell to the lot of Crowley, the foreman. One way to run a ranch is to pay off the men and then win the money back at stud-poker!
Ross rose from the table, after he had cashed in the checks of the foreman and had pocketed his own winnings. As he stood up, his eyes caught sight of Injun's pinto cropping the grass in the yard of the ranch near to the river bank. Ross stared intently at the horse, and several of the men followed his glance.
"What hoss is that out there? Who let him out 'n the corral? Some o' yo' rum-hounds go git him an' put him back. Don't seem to me I recconnize that skate nohow."
One of the men rose and went out to the pinto, and after some trouble succeeded in catching him. The man examined the horse, and then started toward the ranch-house with him. The man's manner indicated that something was amiss, and Ross and Crowley went out to meet him.
"This here ain't none of our hoss," said the man, looking at the animal critically. "Looks to me like the one I seen that little red skunk ridin' with thet there Sherwood kid. 'Spose them young hellions bin snoopin' 'bout here?"
Ross uttered an oath, and Crowley examined the horse: "The' ain't no doubt in th' world thet's thet little red devil's hoss. But I don't figger no cause t' git excited. He goes meanderin' 'round most any place, though I never knowed him to stick his nose in 'round here before. The' ain't no chanct of his gittin' into the ranch-house—not in a thousand years; an' if he's 'round here, he's got a hell of a walk back to where he belongs! Hey! You!" he called to the men in the ranch-house; and they came out slowly and indifferently; "take a look 'round an' see if yo' kin find hide er hair o' thet little red varmint. Thet's his hoss, an' he can't be far off. When yo' git him, bring him to me—I'll make a 'good Injun' out'n him!"
Several of the men went to the corral, and mounting their horses, rode around the ranch property in different directions. Ross turned to Crowley:
"You may not think there's any cause to git excited, but I do! Jes' now'd be an awkward time fer people t' come investigatin' 'round here. We got t' git them steers branded and out o' this pronto. It's got to be done to-night! Take some o' the boys an' go down an' git busy. I'll be down in a minute. This ought 'a' bin done before!"
Ross and his foreman turned and entered the house; and the foreman, designating several of the hands to follow him, started for the stairs that led to the cave below.
For several moments after Pedro had gone out of sight and hearing, the two boys remained crouched behind the box in the subterranean chamber; it had been an alarming experience and they did not recover from it at once and needed time to take a long breath and to get their disturbed senses together. The situation was far more serious for Injun than for Whitey, for there is no doubt that if Pedro had discovered their whereabouts, Injun would have stood a small chance of escaping with his life, unless the boys had taken the initiative and killed or disabled Pedro before he got a chance to wreak his vengeance on the Indian boy.
"Whew!" whispered Whitey. "That was a narrow escape! If he'd seen us, I guess we'd have had to fight!" Injun nodded, but said nothing. He knew full well the danger he had been in.
Pedro would have killed Injun with as little compunction as he would have stepped on a spider, and with far greater satisfaction. It had been largely through Injun's efforts that Pedro had been exposed, and Pedro was not the sort of man that forgot or forgave a debt of this kind. And it is probable that Whitey would have been in a hazardous situation, too.
However, now that this immediate danger was passed, the next thing was to determine what was the best thing to be done. The more Whitey thought it over, the more determined he was to go on with the adventure; he reasoned that if the finding of the burned match had awakened Pedro's suspicions to any great extent, he would have made an immediate search. Whitey knew also that it was getting toward night, and, in all probability, the ranch-hands would be moving about the yard for some time engaged on the evening chores; and that to come from their concealment at this time and attempt to ride away would be more dangerous than to remain until after dark and get away under the cover of the darkness.
"I guess we might as well go ahead and see what there is in here," said Whitey, and Injun offered no objection. "It's more dangerous to go out now than it is to stay," added Whitey.
As long as it was best to stay in the chamber, they might as well explore it and possibly make more definite discoveries.
Accordingly, the boys came cautiously out of their concealment and by the light of an occasional match made their way further into the recesses of the cave under the ranch-house. They found the chamber far more spacious than it had seemed at first, though it varied in width considerably, and there were several angles and turnings.
At one point there was a flight of wooden steps, evidently leading to the ranch-house above, and Whitey knew from his observation of the exterior location, that they must have proceeded under ground for more than a hundred yards. Passing the steps, their noses told them that they were near cattle, and there was also the unmistakable shuffling sound that a number of cattle make when closely confined. Cautiously they felt their way along the wall—the last match had disclosed that they were approaching a turn—and came to a place where the chamber perceptibly broadened again, and by sound and by smell the boys knew that they were close upon the cattle.
It was with a feeling of dismay that Whitey realized that he had but three matches left! And though he had not been wasteful of them, he felt that he had, perhaps, jeopardized their chances of discovery, and even of escape, by a too lavish use of them. It would have been most difficult to make their way back to the entrance. However, it was most necessary to light one here, and Whitey scratched one, taking great care to shield its flame against any draught.
"Here goes!" said Whitey. "We've got to use our match here!"
The flare of the match revealed an extensive underground corral, fenced off with heavy timbers; and in this enclosure were some twelve or fifteen cattle. As Whitey held the match higher, Injun slipped forward and examined the beast that stood blinking at him only a few feet away.
"Look!" said Injun, as excited as he ever permitted himself to be, and Whitey peered at the steer.
The right forefoot of the animal was badly split, exactly corresponding to the peculiar hoof-print that he had discovered near the creek; and on the flank of this and other animals was the plainly distinguishable brand of the Bar O!
As the match flickered and went out, the boys heard the voices of men as though coming from a door that had been suddenly opened, and foot-steps were plainly audible coming down the stairs behind them.
"Somebody's coming!" whispered Whitey as Injun clutched his arm. They must seek a hiding place at once, for the coming of the men in their rear cut off any retreat by way of the tunnel.
At the side of the corral was a rude platform or rick, upon which was piled a quantity of hay for the cattle, and with one accord the two boys darted toward this, but the momentary glance that they had given the spot, during the brief flicker of the match, had been insufficient for Whitey, at least, to get his bearings with accuracy; and even at the expense of the possibility of disclosing themselves, he was compelled to light another of the precious matches. The men were as yet some distance away, and around one of the turns, and he concluded that the light of the match would not be perceptible to them. It was not—neither was it perceptible to either Whitey or Injun! It was one of the sort of matches that are made to sell, not to burn; and after a brief and non-illuminating flame it went out!
"What do you think of that luck?" whispered Whitey, angrily. "There's nothing else to do but use the last one!"
There was plenty of time to light another one, but in his excitement Whitey dropped the last match he had upon the floor, and to search for it would have been hopeless! Alone in the dark and no matches!
Injun did the best he could by grabbing Whitey's hand and leading him to the hay-rick, and into this, with as little noise as possible—it seemed to Whitey that they made a fearful racket—the two boys climbed, uncertain of their way and ignorant as to how much concealment the place really afforded. "Any port in a storm," and there was certainly a storm coming!
Scarcely had the two boys arranged themselves in the hay, Whitey taking care that he had a slight opening through which he could observe what took place in the room, when Crowley and four of the ranch-hands entered. Three of the men carried lanterns, and by their dim glow Whitey could see that the chamber was of vast extent, and plainly of natural origin.
Crowley and the men lost little time in getting to work; and in a moment a fire was going in the small furnace and the branding-irons were heating.
"Get a move on!" said Crowley, impatient at some small delay. "This business ought 'a' bin done days ago! The Boss is sore—tho' he ain't got no kick comin', really, as he's bin lushin', same as the rest of us. Them cattle ought 'a' bin branded and on their way long ago."
In a moment, the iron was hot, and three of the hands proceeded to drag one of the steers out of the corral and it was thrown to the floor. Crowley took the branding-iron, and applied it with extreme care. Although Whitey could not make out just what was done, this is what happened: The steer had been previously branded,-O. The branding-iron that Crowley used was marked I.; and when it was applied exactly over the previous brand, the result was +O. A very simple process, therefore, changed the brand of "Bar O" into "Cross and Circle."
One after another the cattle were dragged in and re-branded, until twelve in all had been "counterfeited." In the midst of this process Ross appeared, and examined critically each of the re-branded animals, and expressed satisfaction at the completeness and perfection of the job.
"It'll bother them Bar O people consider'ble to claim them steers now," he said. "But jes' the same, we better get 'em off 'long towards mornin', with the others, an' ship 'em as soon as we kin. It's takin' some risk, with them fresh brands, but I dunno 's anybody is goin' to make a holler. The main thing is to get 'em away from here. I don't jes' like thet Injun's hoss bein' out there; but I reckon 'f he's 'round, the boys'll round him up, an' no harm'll be did."
"It'll bother them Bar O people consider'ble to claim them steers now," he said.
"It'll bother them Bar O people consider'ble to claim them steers now," he said.
"It'll bother them Bar O people consider'ble to claim them steers now," he said.
"Hain't the boys seen nuthin' of him yet?" asked Crowley.
"None of 'em 's come back," said Ross, with an oath; and it was apparent that he was not at all comfortable. All this was plainly audible to Whitey and Injun, and as may be imagined, their feelings were not very comfortable, either; but they lay perfectly still, their nerves tense, and awaited developments.
Scarcely had Ross spoken, when some one was heard approaching through the tunnel over the same route that the boys had taken to enter the cave, and in a moment one of the ranch-hands that had gone in search of Injun appeared. In answer to Ross's inquiry, he said, "I guess there was only one o' them boys, for the' was only one hoss—the Injun's, but we can't find hide ner hair o' that little red devil. Don't seem to be 'round no place, though we bin over every foot of the yard an' corrals. I jes' come through the tunnel—somebody must 'a' forgot to close the gate—an' on the way through I found these here burnt matches." And he exhibited several of the matches that Whitey had thrown away. "Don't look like the' 's the same kind we burn, an' besides, when any of us comes down here we git lanterns. What do yo' make of 'em?"
The men crowded about the fellow and looked at the match-ends. Crowley was the first to speak: "It's a cinch them wasn't throwed there by none of our boys. The' ain't a match like them in the place—them's safety matches, an' we never had none o' them kind here!"
Ross confirmed this statement and was furious that the gate in the tunnel had been left open, but it was useless to rave about that now, and he looked searchingly around the cave. "Ef that red devil has managed to get into this place," he said, savagely, "you can lay a good bet he'll never get out!" Then turning to the men, he gave the orders: "Here, you! Never mind them steers. They're all branded anyhow. Shet that tunnel gate and block up the entrance! Then go through an' search every crack in this cave an' don't let that young skunk get away on yer life!"
The men at once began the search. Ross, himself, came directly toward the hay-rick with the evident intention of investigating it, while the other men began to look into and behind the various boxes and barrels that littered the spacious floor.
Realizing that escape was impossible, Whitey did a very brave thing; and, indeed, the wisest thing he could have done. He knew that if both he and Injun were captured, there would be little chance to get word to the Bar O outfit, or to any other source of aid. He gathered from the talk that Ross and his men suspected the presence of but one intruder, as only Injun's horse had been found; and if one of them were found, the ranchers would probably be satisfied with that and make no further search for a second. And so, before Ross could reach the hay-rick, Whitey squirmed out to the edge of the hay, and looked into the astonished face of the rancher.
Dusk had begun to settle upon the Bar O ranch when the riderless Monty came into the ranch-yard and trotted up to the corral gate. The absence of the boys had not been noticed, for it was no unusual thing for them to remain out even long after dark. But when Bill Jordan saw Monty come in alone, he at once sent for Mr. Sherwood, who came in haste, and the other members of the outfit, among whom were Walker and his companion, gathered about also.
"This here Monty horse just come in without your boy!" said Bill, with evident concern in his voice. "I reckon we better send out all hands an' see what's happened. Mebbe the' ain't nuthin' happened—Injun was with Whitey, but I don't like the looks o' this."
"Did any of you men see the boys?" asked Mr. Sherwood, anxiously.
"Me an' Hartley seen 'em," said Walker. "They was way off near the branch an' was headed in the direction of the Cross an' Circle, tho' I don't cal'clate they was goin' there. Me an' Hartley headed 'em off, an' questioned 'em, an' they said they was just takin' a ride. I tol' 'em they better keep away from the Cross an' Circle an' not to git off 'n the ranch. It's a cinch they're off that way!"
As Walker and one or two of the other men were about to start, Bill Jordan called a halt. Turning to the men, he said—
"Let ever'body drop what they's a doin' an' come along. Better take yer guns, fer the's no tellin' what kind o' mischief them two's got mixed into. Spread out fan-shape, an' keep within' hailin' distance. Don't over-look nuthin'."
Within less time than it takes to tell it, every available man on the Bar O ranch was in the saddle and headed in a north-westerly direction. It would have been impossible to back-trail Monty, even in daylight; but in the present light, it was out of the question; and the only logical method was to go to where the boys had been last seen. Naturally, Walker and Hartley led the searching party, Mr. Sherwood keeping by the side of Bill Jordan, who was really in command.
"What do you make of it, Jordan?" Mr. Sherwood asked, a shade of anxiety coming over his face.
"Why, Boss, it prob'ally ain't nuthin', much—horse might 'a' got scared an' throwed him, tho' 'f thet was the case, 't looks as tho' Injun might 'a' ketched him—but mebbe not. 'Tain't really much good spec'latin', fer any one of a dozen things could 'a' happened. The's one thing I bin studyin' 'bout an' I hope it ain't thet."
"What do you mean?" asked Sherwood.
"Well," said Bill, "you mebbe'll remember when yo' an' me was talkin' 'bout thet Cross an' Circle outfit, after Ross done paid us a visit, I took notice thet Whitey was almighty interested in what we wuz sayin', an' fer thet reason I took yo' off to one side where he couldn't hear. 'Taint altogether out 'n reason thet he an' thet Injun concluded to do a little scoutin' aroun' on the'r own account. I wouldn't want 'em to get tied up with no rus'lers." Bill obviously did not want to alarm Mr. Sherwood unnecessarily, but there was no doubt that he thought the situation serious.
"You mean the Cross and Circle people?" asked Mr. Sherwood.
"Well, I ain't quite sayin' thet," said Bill, "but I got idees!"
"You think," said Mr. Sherwood, after a pause, "that if they really got anything on the rustlers, or interfered with them in any way, that they might—put the boys out of the way?" And he looked apprehensively at Bill.
"Mebbe not quite thet," said Bill, "but they might make it all-fired uncomfortable fer them two kids."
Mr. Sherwood did not reply, and for several miles the men rode over the rolling prairie in a gradual ascent toward the foot-hills of the mountains. Fortunately a bright moon gave sufficient light to make their progress easy and rapid. At intervals the men fired shots into the air and hallooed; but there was no answering shot or call.
The party finally arrived at the branch where the trail of the cattle had been lost, and Bill Jordan called the men together for a consultation. Here it was obvious that there must be a division of their forces; and although he had no logical reason that he could have advanced, Bill felt that their course lay, in general, toward the Ross ranch. Call it intuition, or a "hunch," or what you will, it was strong within him, and he determined to follow it. Often a plainsman has nothing else to guide him—he must rely upon intuition alone—and it is surprising how often it proves to be true. And so it was decided that part of the outfit should ride down the east bank of the river toward the Cross and Circle ranch, and the others, under Bill, should approach it along the left bank.
If the Ross outfit offered nothing else, Bill made up his mind that he would question the men and get any information in regard to the boys that they might possess. Accordingly, six or seven of the men under Walker, who had ridden herd in that section for many weeks and was thoroughly familiar with every detail of it, took the east side of the stream; and the others, under Bill, swam their horses to the other side, and soon were under way toward the Cross and Circle.
Bill gave orders that as the two parties got near the Ross ranch, they were to preserve quiet, and look the situation over before making known their presence.
At the first movement that Whitey made in the hay, Ross had drawn his gun; but when he saw the boyish face as it looked into his, he let his arm drop to his side; but as the boy started to scramble down from the hay-rick, Ross grabbed him by the collar and held him securely, taking his rifle from him roughly and jerking him to his feet.
"It's only me, Mr. Ross," said Whitey, as he stood before the rancher. "I was riding out by the river and discovered the cave and came in to explore it. I didn't mean any harm, but when I heard the men coming, I hid in the hay."
"Oh, you did, did you!" sneered Ross, with rising anger, as Crowley and the other men crowded around. "You're thet young Sherwood kid, ain't ye?"
"Yes," said Whitey, coolly, "my name is Sherwood."
"Well," said Crowley, menacingly, as he faced Whitey and glared at him, "I reckon your name is 'Mud' from now on! What business had you to come snoopin' 'round here an' comin' into private tunnels an' things like that?"
"I didn't know anything about your tunnel being private, and I don't see any harm in coming into it anyway. You often come over onto our land. I've seen you, myself."
"Where's that little Injun skunk thet travels 'round with you?" asked Ross. "Wasn't he with yo'? Thet was his hoss we got in the ranch-yard."
"Oh, Injun lets me ride his horse wherever I want to," said Whitey, and this appeared to satisfy the men that Whitey was alone.
It was evident that Whitey wasn't going to scare easily, and a problem was presented to Ross and his men. They did not know how much Whitey had seen or heard; to let him go would be hazardous, and to keep him, they knew would be perhaps equally dangerous. Ross and Crowley consulted together, a little apart from Whitey and the others, but in a moment one or two of the men joined them. Whitey stood looking innocently about and apparently unconcerned; but he was really much disturbed. He did not fear for himself, for he felt that the gang would scarcely dare kill him; but Injun's case was different. Pedro was very much in evidence, and he was menacing enough even toward Whitey. What his attitude would be if he got hold of Injun left little to conjecture. And so Whitey determined to divert any suspicions the gang might have as far from Injun as possible.
Some of the men were for doing away with Whitey at once, on the theory that "dead men—or boys either—tell no tales." But Ross and Crowley were not inclined to do this, just yet, and Ross told the men to "go slow." He determined to find out first how much Whitey knew.
"Was yo' here when we was brandin' our cattle?" asked Ross, taking the boy roughly by the shoulder.
"I suppose you were branding some cattle," answered Whitey; "but I was back in the hay. Let go of my shoulder! You haven't got any right to hold me that way!"
Whitey made a movement as though to draw his revolver from his hip-pocket, but Ross seized his arm and wrenched the little pearl-handled .22 away from him. "Gimme thet thing!" Ross yelled. "What d'ye mean by tryin' to draw this here pop-gun on me? Hey? I'll hold you a good deal tighter 'n that 'fore I git thro' with ye!" he snarled, shaking Whitey violently. "Yo' shut yer trap an' give a civil answer when y're spoke to, er I'll put ye where the dogs won't bite ye!"
"Let me tend to him, Boss," said the tall man who had come with Ross to the Bar O ranch; "I got a way of handlin' kids like him," and he advanced as though to take hold of Whitey.
Before Ross or Crowley could interfere, the tall man reached for Whitey and the latter, not waiting for or relying upon their assistance, parried the man's lead, and stepping in close to him, planted a severe straight right-hand punch in the man's stomach that doubled that gentleman up.
"You let me alone, you big sheep-stealing jail-bird!" yelled Whitey. "I know you, Mister 'One-Card' Tucker, and I tell you right now that if you put your hand on me, Bill Jordan will tend to you, and tend to you right—like he did before—at San Quentin!"
This whole performance was a bomb-shell in the Ross camp. While they were all astonished at the promptness and vigor and skill with which Whitey had delivered the punch that doubled up Tucker, the fact that the boy was familiar with the man's record, and that Jordan had undoubtedly recognized him on the occasion of the visit to the Bar O, created considerable consternation. The next few minutes, however, were occupied in quelling the outraged Mr. "One-Card" Tucker.
"Lemme git at him! I'll kill thet little pizen pup!" howled Tucker, who, as soon as he got his breath, had made an effort to draw his revolver; and there is no doubt that Whitey would have fared badly if Ross and Crowley had not grabbed the man and taken the gun away from him, after considerable difficulty.
"Gimme that gun," yelled Ross as he grappled with the infuriated Tucker. "Ain't you big enough to handle a boy without that? Any more o' that stuff an' I'll wring your neck!"
The laughter of several of the men over the fact that the big man had been doubled up by a fourteen-year-old boy did not tend to soothe Mr. Tucker's feelings. It was of course obvious that in a bout of fisticuffs with Tucker, Whitey would have had no chance; but he was a husky boy and had delivered the blow onexactlythe right spot—the solar plexus—and it really doesn't take a very hard blow there to cause a man considerable annoyance.
But the affair brought up a new complication; there could be no doubt, now, that the head of the Bar O outfit must have some suspicions about the personnel of the Cross and Circle. Had this knowledge come to Ross at any other time, he would probably have publicly discharged Tucker, and disclaimed any knowledge of his character when he hired him. But it was a trifle late to adopt this course now. Furthermore, it would be most unwise to let any very great harm happen to Whitey; he must, of course, be held a prisoner so that he could give no information to the Bar O people, but to murder him in cold blood was taking too much of a chance, even in a desperate situation like this. Ross knew, too, that Whitey's continued absence from the Bar O ranch would cause an immediate and exhaustive search to be made for the boy, and he was in no position to stand anything like that. Quite a dilemma—he didn't dare keep Whitey, and he didn't dare let him go!
Of the two evils, the former seemed the lesser, and he and Crowley determined to keep the boy until such time as they could get rid of the "counterfeit" cattle, and, in a way, "put their house in order."
In fact Ross had great confidence in the secrecy of the underground chamber. There was very little chance that any one would discover it at the river—not one in a thousand; and in the house above the entrance to it was most cleverly concealed, so that even a careful examination might take place without its existence being even suspected. The ranch was apparently without a cellar, as could be seen from the outside. But it was built almost against the high and rocky cliff on one side, and it was at this point that the entrance to the subterranean chamber was gained.
In the living-room of the ranch there stood a large wardrobe in which were hung various articles of clothing, as well as lariats and other ranchmen's equipment. The wide doors of this wardrobe were usually open and a full view of the interior afforded to any one who entered the room. This very fact would have served to divert suspicion from that direction even had the searcher been aware that there was a chamber below. In the back of this wardrobe was a door, with invisible hinges, that opened onto a stairway leading down to the chamber.
The lock that operated the door was controlled by one of the hooks that were apparently fastened onto the back of the wardrobe for the purpose of hanging clothes upon it, but also answered the purpose of a door-knob.
When the hook was turned three times to the right, the catch of the lock was released and the door, which was really the back of the wardrobe, swung back and revealed the steps. The lock was a spring-lock, and was opened from the cavern side by the ordinary knob that operates such locks. The cavern was really not under the house at all, but to one side of it; and thus sounding the floors would reveal nothing hollow underneath.
Though the house itself, as used by the former owner, was nothing out of the ordinary and almost exactly like many of the other houses that were plentiful in that section, yet under the Ross regime it had been made into a veritable fortress, although this was not particularly noticeable from the outside. The windows had been barred sufficiently close to prevent a man from getting in or going out; and on the inside were iron shutters with loop-holes in them. Through these holes a rifle could be thrust and aimed, with little danger that the user of it would be hit by a bullet from the exterior.
The doors were of heavy planks, and were fitted with double bars which, when in place, would make the forcing of the doors a difficult matter. And, in case things got too warm, the cave offered a refuge, and the tunnel to the river provided a means of escape. Altogether, it looked like a pretty safe place to carry on such a business as the Cross and Circle was engaged in.
But in all these calculations, Ross was reckoning without Injun! That young man was destined to prove quite a factor in the upsetting of some very well-laid plans.
"The only thing to do," said Ross to Crowley, as they talked apart from the others, "is to tie up this here kid until we can make a get-away. The whole shebang is blowed, now thet he knows as much as he does. Me an' you can do a sneak with what the' is in the safe, an' let these gazoots hold the bag."
"I'm in favor of a get-away, all right, fer yo' an' me, but not yet! The's altogether too much stuff to leave behind; an' there ain't no use o' gittin' cold feet. What kin thet Bar O outfit do, anyhow? The' ain't one chanct in a million thet they kin find anythin', an' while I ain't in favor o' puttin' this here kid's light out, we kin keep him here indefinit'—ef we want to. The' be an awful squawk when he turns up missin', but kids has bin missin' afore, an' they ain't got no call to lay nuthin' at our door. Ef they do, an' worst comes to worst, we'll give 'em a battle!"
It took some time for Crowley to convince Ross that this was the proper course to pursue; but eventually Ross determined to stick it out, and he and Crowley came back to the others, and Crowley gave the orders.
"A couple of yo' men block up the tunnel so 't a snake can't get through either way. Ross, let's yo' an' me hobble this here young Jim Corbett so 't he'll stay with us a spell." Turning to Whitey, he said, "Yo' are goin' t' be a guest o' the ranch fer a time, Jim. 'S long's yo' don't make no fuss an' try to git away, er t' put somethin' over, yer' goin' to be all right an' treated nice. But the first break yo' make—well, Son, that'll be 'bout the last thing yo' 'll ever do!"
Crowley and Ross grabbed Whitey, who resisted to the best of his ability. "You've got no right to keep me here!" he protested. "I haven't committed any crime and I don't propose to be made a prisoner! If I am, you bet you'll pay for it!"
"Mebbe not," said Crowley, "but jes' the same, we ain't goin' to dispense with yo'r society for a spell. Yo' come without no invitation, an' now I reckon yo' might as well tarry 'long with us. Ef we let yo' go out at night mebbe one o' them ontamed Jack-rabbits might sneak up an' bite yo'. Hol' on, yo' young scorpion!"
The occasion of the last remark was a solid kick on the shins that Whitey landed on the taunting Crowley as the latter reached for the boy and tried to hold his arms so that Ross could tie them. Whitey did not propose to stand still and be hobbled, and he left no doubt of it in the minds of either Ross or Crowley. Of course, the boy stood no chance in the hands of the two strong men; but for a few moments there was considerable fuss; before they got Whitey "roped and thrown," he had inflicted a number of painful bruises on each of the men.
"Sufferin' cats!" said Crowley as he limped away from the bound and prostrate form of Whitey. "Of all the varmints ever I tackled that's the worst! I wish I'd let Tucker alone when he wanted to shoot him up!"
Ross swore roundly and with great fervency as he tried to stop a nose-bleed with his coat-sleeve. Whitey, in his wrath, threw all discretion to the winds, as he struggled at his bonds, but could not loose them.
"You wait—you two cattle-thieves!" sputtered Whitey, as he lay on the floor of the cavern. "You wait till the Bar O outfit gets done with you. You and your counterfeit brands! Bill Jordan will hold a necktie-party and don't you forget it!"
"Put a gag onto him, Crowley," said Ross, as he wiped away some blood from his nose.
"Put it on yo'self," answered Crowley, "I got a belly-full o' monkeyin' with him, right now!" And Crowley showed a severe bruise on his shin as he rolled up the leg of his trousers.
"I'll put it on," said Tucker, eagerly; and taking a handkerchief, he bent over Whitey and started to insert the gag in no gentle manner. In a moment Tucker let out a howl and jumped back, nursing a badly bitten hand. With an oath he sprang back at Whitey and delivered a severe downward blow at Whitey's face, but Whitey ducked to one side, and Tucker's fist crashed against the rocky floor of the cavern. Before he had time to deliver another, Crowley had pulled him off, and hurled him aside.
"Now, listen, you big stiff," said Crowley, menacingly. "If yo' pulls any more o' that stuff, I'll tend to yo'—er mebbe I'll untie that kid an' sic him onto yo'! I knowed yo' was pretty low-down, but I give yo' more credit 'n to want to soak aboy—an' him with his hands an' feet tied!"
"Well, look what he done to me!" yelled Tucker, exhibiting his hands—one badly bitten, and the other bruised and bleeding from its contact with the rocky floor of the cavern. "Look what he done!"
"Well, yo' wanted the job of gaggin' him, didn't yo'?" said Crowley. "Yo' didn't s'pose thet rarin' catamount was gonna lie there an' let yo' put yo'r finger into his mouth 'thout bitin' it, did yo'? An' as fer thet other hand—I guess, mebbe, yo' ain't got no great kick comin' 'bout thet. I'd like t' seen yo' break yo'r arm!"
If Mr. "One-Card" Tucker was looking for sympathy, he needed some powerful glasses; for no matter how depraved and dishonest men are, there usually remains in them a liking for fair play and a certain sympathy for the under dog. And no matter how low their standard of morals may be otherwise, there are very few Western men who will stand by and see a man abuse either a woman or a boy or a dumb animal. It isn't in the breed.
Crowley turned to Ross, who, by this time, had managed to stop his nose-bleed: "I don't reckon thet this here ragin' hyena needs no gag. We'll stow him back in the cellar, an' he kin yell his head off, ef he wants to; he can't raise no holler loud 'nuff fer anybody to hear. A couple o' yo' men take an' tote him back into the angle back o' the cattle. An' look out how you handle him! He's a ring-tail Looloo, with a stinger on head an' tail!"
Two of the men picked up the bound Whitey had started back with him, but Crowley stopped them. Turning to all the men, he said, "An' right here, I gives notice—partic'lar to yo', One-Card—thet ef any thin' happens to thet kid, I'm gonna settle with you personal'. Thet makes yo' his g'ardeen an' pertector. D' yo' understand? Rustlin' cattle is bad enough, but murderin' babies is a heap worse, an' I ain't takin' no chances facin' a jury on them partic'lar indictments."
"He's a fine, healthy baby!" said Ross and Tucker, feeling of their wounds.
And all this time Injun lay still in the hay and waited for his opportunity.
The two men proceeded to carry Whitey around the pen in which the cattle were coralled, to where the passage turned at a sharp angle. The dim light of their lantern sufficed to illuminate only that portion of the cavern in the immediate vicinity, but judging from the echoes that reverberated from the recesses beyond, the cave ran for a considerable distance into the mountain. The men deposited Whitey upon the rocky floor with little ceremony, and retraced their steps; and soon he was left in darkness and silence. The two men were joined at the stairs leading to the house above by those who had been sent to block up the entrance from the river, and the closing of the heavy door above left the two boys alone in the cavern.
Injun lost little time in crawling noiselessly out of the hay, after he had heard the foot-steps die away on the stairs and the door above close; but he was cautious enough to lie still for a moment and listen, for the darkness was such that he could see nothing. Climbing down to the floor of the cavern, he produced his flint and steel; and in a moment he had lighted a sliver of wood that he had chipped from one of the planks with his hunting-knife. With this light he located a larger piece of stick, and soon had a torch that lit up the space around him for considerable distance. He glided swiftly around the cattle corral, and in a few seconds he had loosed Whitey's bonds, and the latter stretched his limbs that were even then beginning to feel the numbing effects of the tight rope that had pinioned him.
It was necessary to do something, and that something quickly, for the boys did not know at what moment the men might return. Injun split a number of long slivers from a plank to serve as torches, and then the boys made their way back toward the entrance to the river. They found that the tunnel had been effectually closed not more than fifty feet from its mouth by a heavy door that had been barred and padlocked, and which resisted all their efforts to open it.
The fact that they had been able to enter the place at all had been due to the carelessness of the last party of ranchers that had entered and neglected to close and fasten it. Long immunity makes men careless about the most important things.
Finding that escape in this direction was impossible, the boys made their way back to the other end, but found there was no exit there. They then came back to the stairs that led to the room above. Here they held a consultation, and decided to mount the stairs and see what could be learned. Cautiously ascending the stairs, Injun listened at the door; and, after a moment, reported to Whitey that there were several men in the room playing cards and discussing the situation. After examining the lock by the light of one of the splinters, Whitey saw that it could be opened by simply turning the knob; and returning to the floor of the cavern, he formulated a plan, which, although a desperate one and probably likely to fail, seemed to be their only chance.
"It's dark by this time," said Whitey, "and probably the only light in the room is a swinging one over the table, like all the ranch-houses have." Injun nodded assent, and Whitey continued: "We'll both go to the top of the stairs, and I'll open the door quickly and smash the lamp. There'll be a big fuss and confusion, and maybe you can slip through the room and out one of the windows without being caught. What do you think of it?"
Injun thought a while and finally nodded; he knew that the ranch-house windows were barred, but he also knew that he could probably wiggle through them, and he indicated that he was ready as soon as Whitey was. Whitey selected a stout stick at the corral, and noiselessly the two boys climbed the stairs, and Whitey cautiously turned the knob. The door swung back toward them noiselessly, and by good luck the doors of the wardrobe that concealed the door were partially closed. In another second, Whitey and Injun stood in the wardrobe.
From his position Whitey could see a part of the room, and he pointed out to Injun that there was a window at the end of the room through which the latter might climb without having to pass the table. Injun was to remain behind one of the doors of the wardrobe until Whitey had smashed the lamp, and then he was to make a run for it. The conversation of the men was plainly audible.
"I ain't none too stuck on the bet as she lays," said the heavy voice of Ross, who had by this time imbibed considerable whiskey, "an' I ain't shore but the best thing 'd be to choke thet kid an' chuck him in the river. Ef he ever gits loose, it's good night!"
There was a murmur of assent at this from some of the men, but Crowley was plainly against it. "Yo' all is afraid o' yo'r own shadder! In the first place, how's he goin' t' git loose? The' ain't no way fer him t' git out 'n thet cellar 'cept through this room, even ef he got shet of 'bout twenty-five foot o' rope thet was drawed some tight 'round his arms an' legs. An' 't looks like we all might stop him 'fore he got very far ef he come this way!" and Crowley looked about him contemptuously. "I'm a heap more 'fraid o' facin' a murder indictment 'n I am of anythin' thet kid er the hull, blame Bar O outfit kin do! I tell yo' the' ain't no danger o' their findin' him 'n the' is o' thet lamp explodin'!"
Whitey had set himself for the spring, and he threw open the doors of the wardrobe and reached the table in one bound. With a blow of the stick he shattered the lamp, and then swung it about him vigorously. Taken entirely unawares, and being totally ignorant of what had struck them, there was indescribable pandemonium for a time. The room was in almost utter darkness, and several of the men having received hearty whacks over the head from the club in Whitey's hands, contributed shouts and curses to the general uproar.
"What the jumpin' tom-cuts has struck us?" shouted Crowley in consternation as he received a whack across his face from the stick, and a deep and fervent oath from Ross indicated that he, too, had "got his."
Each was afraid to shoot lest he hit one of his own gang, and, indeed, the whole outfit was at a decided disadvantage. No one saw the sinuous Injun as he glided out of the wardrobe and slipped along the wall to the window. The bars were not very far apart, but it is probable that Injun would have gone through any space that a rattlesnake could; and in less time that it takes to tell it, Injun had squirmed his way between the bars and dropped to the ground in the darkness outside.
The solid thumps that Whitey bestowed on the various anatomical parts of those at the table had the effect of scattering them in all directions; and they were completely in the dark as to what kind of a cyclone had struck the place. They could make no individual or concerted resistance, and the result was that they simply tried to get out of the way as best they could. The opening of a door by one of the men, who was really trying to escape, let in a flood of light, and several of the men recognized Whitey as the source of the trouble. "Holy Mackerel!" yelled Crowley, "ef 't ain't thet ragin' catamount got loose! Grab him, there, Ross, quick, afore he puts the whole dump on th' bum!"
With a yell of rage and amazement, four of the ranchers fell upon Whitey in a sort of football formation, while that young man fought and bit and clawed and kicked as long as he could move a muscle.
As soon as the lanterns were brought in and the bruised and cursing cowboys had disentangled themselves, Whitey was yanked to his feet in no gentle manner; and while the irate Ross almost choked him to death, Crowley bound him tight in a lariat much after the fashion that a mummy is swathed in bandages. Finally, when this was thoroughly and completely done, Ross relinquished his grip on Whitey's wind-pipe, and stood back and wiped the perspiration from his red and bloated face.
There was a large and rapidly swelling welt over one of Ross' eyes where Whitey's club had landed in the whirlwind assault that he had made upon the gang. In fact, there were few of the men who were not "decorated" in some manner, for Whitey had played no favorites in wielding his shillalah in the dark. Crowley's lip was swollen to several times its natural size, and it was evident that he was having hard work to control his temper; and he, as well as the others, glared at the boy in a way that boded ill for him.
But Whitey returned their black looks with interest; his fighting-blood was up,—he had no regard for consequences; and had he been loose, he would have charged all of them. One thing only was the salvation of Whitey. Crowley caught sight of several of the men nursing their various bruises—the welt above Ross' eye was assuming ludicrous proportions—and Crowley laughed!
"No danger, hey?" snarled Ross. "He couldn't git loose, er nuthin'! Oh, no! He's jes' as harmless as a ton o' dynamite!"
"No more chanct o' him gittin' loose 'n the' is o' the lamp explodin'!" put in another, sarcastically. "Well, by Judas, 't looks t' me as tho' the lamp done exploded!"
"Yo' all said a mouthful!" admitted Crowley, feeling of his lip, and speaking with some difficulty. "An' I reckon mebbe I was among them present when she blew! I ain't got real bright yet after thet wallop he giv' me!"
"Yo're shore pretty bright, anyhow!" said Ross, making a painful effort to sneer. "Seems to me it was yo' said he didn't need no gag ner nuthin'! Mebbe he don't—but he's goin' to git one—one 'at 'll shet him up fer 'bout five hundred years, an' then some! I'm tryin' to decide whether t' bile 'im over a slow fire er t' pull 'im apart with four hosses! I bin shin-kicked, thumb-bit, an' walloped across the nose with a club, an' I reckon that'll be 'bout all this evenin'! The' ain't no child-wonder goin' to put them things over onto me an' get away with it—not while I got my health, he ain't."
"Don't look as tho' none of us 'd have much health ef this here pizen varmint ain't took in hand pronto!" said Tucker, who had received a crack over his sore knuckles that put his hand out of business. "I ain't got no more scruples 'bout shootin' him up 'n I'd hev 'bout killin' a coyote!" and Tucker tried to draw his gun with his sore hand.
"The' won't nuthin' like thet come off—not while I'm 'round!" said Crowley, firmly. "Ef seven er twelve big, over-growed huskies like we all is has t' call in the Sassiety fer the Pervention uv Cruelty by Childern an' holler fer help ever' time this here half-portion shows up in our midst, I reckon we all better make application fer admission to the home fer crippled old wimmen an' set out onto the piazzy in rockin' chairs, 'long with the rest on 'em!"
And Crowley looked at the battered group and laughed. He knew that the situation was a dangerous one for the boy, and that it had to be handled with considerable tact; and he chose one of the strongest weapons at his command—ridicule. Keeping his eye on "One-Card" Tucker and Pedro—the latter had not come out of the fracas unscathed, and although he had not said anything, was a dangerous customer,—Crowley continued: "Fur 's I'm concerned, personal', bein' only a growed man an' him a boy, I'm calc'latin' on climbin' a tree whenever I git his scent; but 't looks t' me 's though we all might band together an' pertect ourselfs agin ol' Calamity, here, without cuttin' his throat er shootin' him up when his hands is tied!
"Look here, Bud," he said, turning to Whitey, and tactfully trying to change the subject, "how cum yo' to git loose, anyhow? I know I done roped yo' myself, an' I ain't no amachoor—not at ropin', I ain't."
"One of our Bar O cattle that you thieves 'counterfeited' was a friend of mine and came up and ate the rope in two!" said Whitey, with a laugh. "How else do you suppose I could get loose?"
As Whitey said these indiscreet words Ross uttered an oath and started to draw his gun.
"That settles it!" he said. "He's wise to the whole game, an' I'm goin' to cook his goose right now!" And this determination seemed to meet with general approval. Tucker and Pedro drew nearer and backed Ross up.
Crowley turned swiftly and faced them, his eyes narrowed to slits. "Be yo' goin' to play a lone hand," asked Crowley, "er is this a free-fer-all? I ain't noway pertic'lar, but I jes' want t' know whether I'm foreman here er not."
"Yo're foreman, all right," said Ross, boiling with rage, "but I'm the Boss! An'Isay I'm goin' to croak the little skunk!"
Crowley stood perfectly still between the three men and the boy, his hands on his hips, and his jaw set tight.
"Le' 's see yo' try it!" he said. "I'm standin' right here an' waitin'!"