It was a little more than half a mile to the mainland, although the boys had left their horses at the camp some distance further up the shore, and twilight was closing in fast, leaving little time for deliberation. Whitey put it up to Injun: "What shall we do—stay here or swim for it? It seems to me we better go back to the cabin at the other end of the lake and make this fellow give up what he has taken," said Whitey, tentatively.
Injun shook his head. "Him gone," he said, positively. "Him cow-puncher," he added, pointing to the heel-marks on the beach. The marks had undoubtedly been made by boots such as cow-men wear; no woodsman would ever think of wearing such things in the forest.
"Well," said Whitey, "I guess that means we got to swim! I'm with you whatever you decide." This would have been a most difficult and hazardous undertaking, encumbered as they were by rifles and clothes, and handicapped by the darkness.
Motioning Whitey to follow him, Injun started along the water's edge and collected several small logs, most of them half rotted and stripped of their branches, and which, by their combined strength the two boys were able to move. Then Injun went back into the woods and returned with an armful of tough, pliant vines and bound the logs together in the form of a rude raft. It was no easy job, and by the time the raft was completed, it was pitch dark.
"Not much of a boat," said Whitey, "but it beats swimming in the cold water all hollow!"
A couple of sticks, to which Injun bound some leafy branches, served as paddles, and the boys prepared to start.
One trial sufficed to demonstrate that the raft would not carry both boys, and Injun quickly divested himself of his clothes and rolled them into a bundle and handed them together with his rifle to Whitey, who was having his own troubles trying to keep afloat.
"Here," said Whitey, "I don't know why you should do all the hard work! Maybe we both better swim back of the raft and put our clothes and rifles on it?"
Injun shook his head, and gently pushed the raft with Whitey on it into deeper water. Whitey found some difficulty in using the paddle, as the slightest tip sent the logs awash; but after a few moments, he got the hang of it, and progress became easier, though by no means very rapid.
"Say, Injun," said Whitey, after they had proceeded for some distance, "you're headed in the wrong direction! We left the horses up that way—toward the end of the lake. You're going to land way below."
Injun nodded, as though he knew what he was doing, and made no change in his course. This he laid by the silhouette of the trees on the mainland, as the night was almost pitch dark, and only the faint lighter tint of the sky was visible above the line of their tops. The ever-cautious Injun seldom believed in going straight to his objective, but preferred to come to it in a somewhat roundabout way, and therefore, an unexpected way. If the enemy expects that you will approach him from the south, and you actually come from the north, you have just that much advantage. It is he who will be surprised, not you.
Suddenly Injun stopped swimming and listened; but before he could give a warning signal, a dark object ranged alongside of the raft, and a light from a quickly uncovered lantern flashed in Whitey's face, and the boy looked down the muzzle of a Colt forty-five less than six feet away.
"Poot up ze han's!" said a menacing voice, and Whitey complied without any objection, though in doing so, the raft tilted alarmingly and the water swept over it, first this way and then the other; and that discomfiture might be complete, both the rifles and Injun's clothes slid from the raft and settled into the depths below! Fortunately, the clothes and the two rifles were at one side and a little behind Whitey on the raft, and not in the range of Pedro's vision. If he had seen them he would have known that he had to deal with two boys instead of one. But Pedro did see the raft tilt, and he realized that Whitey was helpless.
A mocking laugh came from the canoe, and the voice continued: "Ah, zis ees too much lucky! Again I meet my yo'ng frien' what geeve me such keeck in ze belly an' rap on my haid wiz steek at ze Croix an' Cercl'! I haf' not forget—no, no! How yo' lik' tak' nize bath wiz ze feesh in lak'? Huh?" Straining his eyes and peering into the darkness back of the lantern, Whitey saw the grinning face of Pedro.
Whitey did some rapid thinking. It was evident that Pedro believed him to be alone, as the latter kept his eyes on him and did not seek to find his companion. Pedro had evidently found the canoe where Injun had drawn it up on the bank and for some reason had gone back to his cabin before starting for the mainland. The southern end of the lake was somewhat bare of tall timber, and it was probable that Pedro's attention had been attracted by the splashing of Whitey's improvised paddle, and had been able to make out his figure against the lighter background of the sky. At any rate, no matter how Pedro had discovered the raft, the fact remained that hehaddiscovered it, and now had both boys in a most precarious situation.
Whitey's only hope lay in the probable overlooking of Injun, and he felt that this circumstance might, in some way, turn the tables in their favor, provided Pedro did not make an end of him immediately. There was no doubt in Whitey's mind that Pedro meant, eventually to kill him, but seemed to be in no hurry, preferring to taunt the boy and to gloat over his apprehension, and thus make his revenge as frightful as possible. He calculated his chances of throwing himself from the raft, but knew that Pedro would fire before he could possibly accomplish this. Nor could he make a jump at the menacing muzzle of the revolver, for the raft afforded a most unstable and slippery take-off for a leap of any kind.
All these things ran through Whitey's mind with lightning rapidity, and the boy came to the determination that the best thing he could do, under all the circumstances, was to sit still and await developments. He dared not look around for Injun, feeling that it might indicate to the desperado the presence of a third party; and this would be fatal; for Pedro would immediately finish him to reduce the odds against him. He also felt that any parley might either throw Pedro off his guard and give Injun time to act.
"Hello, Pedro!" said Whitey, summoning all his self-control, and grinning pleasantly; "I don't think I need any bath to-night, with the fish! I had one this morning!"
"Yo' go 'n haf nize, long bath, jes' ze sam'! Yo' go'n' mak' nize dinner fo' ze feeshes—whan Pedro get fro' wiz yo'! Yo' haf planty fun wiz Pedro, one time! Now Pedro's turn haf planty fun wiz yo'! Feeshes haf planty fun, too! Yes! Yo' fodder come hunt an' don't nevaire fin' yo' someplace nowhere! Zen mebbe Pedro get heem, too! Mebbe Mistaire Beeg Beel Jordan—Pedro get heem, too! By gar! An' yo' nize, leetle frien' Injun-boy—Pedro cut heem een leetle pieces—mebbe cook heem an' roas' heem by fire! How yo' lik', huh?"
"What'll they all be doing when you are pulling this off?" asked Whitey, grinning, in respite of his desperate situation.
"Nev' min'—zey do sam' lik' yo' go'n' do! Yo' lik' say yo' prayer? Le's hear yo' say yo' prayer, 'fore yo' go down see feeshes!" taunted Pedro. "Mebbe yo' lik' sen' som' message far'well to yo' fodder?"
Whitey made no answer, but he kept up considerable thinking. There did not seem to be any opportunity for him to make a move with the slightest chance of success, and the horror of the thing was beginning to get on his nerves. Whitey was a very brave boy, but it would try any one's courage to face this sort of a situation. Pedro saw that his taunts and frightful threats were having some effect, and he started to apply himself to the torture with glee.
"Ah Haaah!" he gloated, with a savage leer. "Mebbe yo' lik'——"
Whatever it was that Pedro thought Whitey would like will never be known, for a most surprising thing happened; probably more surprising to Mr. Pedro than even to Whitey. His canoe gave a sudden and violent turn, and Pedro, who was crouched in the bow in a half standing position, holding the lantern in front of him with one hand, and the revolver in the other, was pitched head-over-heels into the water, but not before the pistol had been discharged. The bullet went wide, and probably the firing of the revolver was involuntary and caused by the sudden upsetting of the man when he had his finger on the trigger.
"Good old Injun!" yelled Whitey, exultantly, and he leaped from the raft at the spot where Pedro had gone down.
The keen sense of hearing that Injun possessed had warned him of the approach of the canoe in the darkness, but before he had a chance to warn Whitey or to take any measures himself, the canoe was upon them; and Injun loosed his hold of the raft and sank silently beneath the surface of the water and swam a short distance away before coming to the top toward the stern of the canoe. He kept his eyes and ears above the surface by treading water, and heard the conversation; and aided by the fact that Pedro prolonged it for the purpose of torturing his victim, he was able to form his plan.
Sinking again below the water, he swam to the left side of the canoe, and at the moment he believed Pedro to be in the most unfavorable position and off his guard, he clutched the side of the canoe and gave it a violent tug. It is not much of a trick to upset a canoe—Whitey always claimed that he had to part his hair in the middle to keep one balanced—and the yank that Injun gave the canoe would have upset a good sized yawl.
Pedro, taken entirely unawares, let go of the lantern and revolver, and both went to the bottom. He was a most indifferent swimmer, and instead of swimming under water and trying to avoid the two boys, he strove to come to the top as quickly as he could and get rid of a large portion of the lake that he had involuntarily swallowed. But in this he was not altogether successful. The moment he had gone over-board, Injun had gone under after him, and Whitey's leap had landed the boy directly on top of him just as he got his head partially out of the water and before he had time to take a breath, and under he went, spluttering and gasping and in a panic. Against two such swimmers as Injun and Whitey, the man did not have a Chinaman's chance. Injun had him by the legs, and Whitey had his arms about his neck, with a grip on his wind-pipe; and the more he struggled and struck and kicked at the boys, the more exhausted he became and the weaker was his resistance. It is probable that he would have been glad to surrender, but was in no position to say so. And it is doubtful if the boys would have listened to any proposition in regard to an "armistice." They had him, and they knew it! If anybody was going to furnish a "nize, leetle dinner for ze feeshes," it would be Pedro!
Soon, his struggles grew weaker and weaker, and, finally, relaxed altogether; and it was a pretty thoroughly drowned Pedro that they held up in the water at last.
"See if you can find the canoe and the raft," said Whitey, when he had got his breath. "I'll hold him up while you get them."
"Whaffor?" asked Injun. "You swim, me swim, him swim! Him feed feeshes!"
"Nothing doing!" said Whitey. "This is too good a chance—we'll bring him back to the ranch!"
Whitey was "the boss," as Injun had declared long ago; and Injun swam about in widening circles until he came upon the raft. The canoe had either sunk or had drifted away.
Injun pushed the raft back to where Whitey held the unconscious man up and between them, they managed to slide him onto it, although it was considerable of a job, handicapped as they were by the darkness. But, at last, it was accomplished, and although Pedro was plainly "all in," Whitey took the precaution of tieing his hands with a belt which the man wore.
The weight of the fellow made the frail raft more unstable and "unseaworthy" than ever, and it required a good deal of management to keep him on it.
"Look out!" said Whitey, as the raft tilted at a dangerous angle, "he's sliding off!" And by a desperate effort, Whitey righted the logs and kept Pedro on it.
"Me should worry!" said Injun, who was becoming educated. In fact, the whole proceeding was entirely foreign to Injun's ideas of how to treat an enemy, and if it had been left to him, he would have tied a rock around Pedro's neck to insure that he went straight down to "Davey Jones' Locker." Injun could not see any reason for taking so much trouble to save the life of a man who would inevitably be hung or lynched. And, for the matter of that, other people than Injun have had the same feeling!
By the time the raft grated on the pebbles of the mainland the moon had begun to show over the horizon, and its light dissipated some of the difficulties that confronted the boys in their undertaking. They rolled Pedro onto the beach with difficulty, and sat down beside him for a moment to rest.
The prisoner began to show some signs of coming to, and Injun was for taking a huge rock and preventing any return to consciousness by banging the man on the head with it. Whitey prevented this, however; but he assured himself that Pedro was securely tied. By means of some tough, but pliable vines that Injun got from the brush near at hand, he not only bound Pedro's hands behind his back, but hobbled him so that he could take a step of not more than a foot in length. In addition to this, he put a slip-noose about the man's neck with a long leash; and having Pedro thus trussed up, he awaited his returning consciousness with some interest.
The outlaw took several short, gasping breaths, each longer than the other, and at last, his eye-lids trembled and then opened, and he looked at the two boys beside him. It took him a moment to realize his situation. When he did, it was evident that he did not enjoy it, and he looked malevolently at the boys. Injun brandished a huge club that he picked up nearby.
"Had a 'nize, leetle' nap, didn't you, Pedro!" said Whitey, imitating Pedro's taunting tone. "That dinner for 'ze feeshes' had to be postponed, didn't it! Now, maybe you'd like to say a few prayers? How about it?"
Pedro decided upon other tactics: "Pedro jus' play jok' on nize, leetle boys! Pedro not hurt nize boys!"
"I know blame well you won't," said Whitey, "for the simple reason that you can't! You're going to be 'ver' nize' from now on! Nice and gentle! Come on," he said, rising, "you are due for a nice long walk back to the ranch—it's only sixty miles and there's a hearty welcome waiting for you there—your old friend Bill Jordan will be mighty glad to see you!"
Pedro studied Whitey's face with his black, evil eyes. "Sure!" he said, "I go—be ver' nize! Yo' ontie Pedro's foots so he walk!"
"Sure!" said Whitey, "I'm full of those tricks! I'll untie your feet—when we get to the ranch! Get a move on!"
Pedro rose to his feet and started off as well as the hobble would let him, but made rather a poor job of walking over the rough ground in the semi-darkness. He made another appeal to have the hobble removed, but he abandoned any further effort in that direction when Whitey said, "Injun, if he turns around again or makes any bluff at falling down or not being able to walk, you just belt him one over the head with that club and see if it doesn't help him to walk better!"
"Me soak 'em!" said Injun, eagerly, and he gripped the club; he evidently didn't see the use of waiting until Pedro did any of these forbidden things, but was willing to hit him now and let him disobey the rules afterward.
"'Twon't do to muss him up too much," protested Whitey. "The boys at the ranch will want to hang a whole man, not a half of one; and if you ever land on him with that club, we'll have to bury him right here!"
Injun indicated that such a proceeding wouldn't be any trouble at all to him, but Whitey said it would take too long as they didn't have a spade! What Pedro thought about it is not recorded.
After a considerable time and in spite of numberless difficulties—Injun, being without any clothes whatever, suffered somewhat from the briars and rough vines and branches—the strange procession arrived at the glade where the horses had been left, and found that the animals were still there. And while it would have done Pedro good to have been compelled to walk back to the Bar O ranch, yet Whitey figured that it would delay them unnecessarily, and, therefore, he decided to tie the gentleman on the pack-horse. To do this, it would be necessary to untie the hobbles that limited Pedro's leg-action, and the vine was accordingly cut, releasing his legs, while Injun stood over him with the club, ready to "soak 'em" at the first move. Whitey looked at the gleaming bronze skin of Injun and asked, "Aren't you cold, Injun?" Injun disclaimed any such feeling contemptuously.
"I thought," said Whitey, "that as long as we had his legs untied, you might want a pair of pants?"
Injun experienced a startling reversal of form: "Ugh! Injun heap cold!" he said with a tremendous show of shivering. And accordingly the transfer was made, although Pedro put up an awful fuss, which was entirely futile. True, the trousers were not a perfect fit, and they were very wet and soggy; but they were a pair of trousers, and Injun was not particular.
After drawing them on, he proceeded to investigate the pockets, and took therefrom a very sizable roll of bills and several water-soaked documents. There was not sufficient time or light to investigate the character of the documents, but from the way Pedro took on, they were evidently of some importance. He wheedled and whined and pleaded and then cursed and threatened, but all that only confirmed the boys in their determination to keep the stuff.
Under the persuasion of Injun's club, Pedro was soon seated on the pack-horse, his legs bound very tight beneath the horse's belly and the cavalcade started on their sixty-mile trip.
The cavalcade started on its sixty-mile trip.
The cavalcade started on its sixty-mile trip.
The cavalcade started on its sixty-mile trip.
The moon had risen and shed a full, silver flood over the woods and the prairie, and it was almost as light as day. It is said that moonlight will make almost anything look romantic; but it is hard to believe that Pedro, clad in a wet, bedraggled coat and red flannel underwear, and with a leash around his neck and his hands tied behind his back, could have inspired anything but laughter in anybody. He was "mad clear through" and his language was distinctly not fit for publication—he had abandoned all efforts to wheedle by this time, having discovered that he was not dealing with children, as he had at one time supposed—and he proceeded to exhaust a very comprehensive vocabulary of profanity in what sounded like six different languages. Whitey stood it for some time, and then he said, "Now look here, Pedro, if you say another word before sunrise, I'm going to put a gag into that foul mouth of your's that'll keep you quiet. I wouldn't let even these horses hear such talk! You told me to say my prayers, and now, I think, under the circumstances, you better follow your own advice!"
And thus admonished, in addition to the fact that Whitey drew the slip-noose a trifle tighter around Pedro's Adam's apple, that gentleman proceeded to subside.
It would be idle to follow the incidents of the long ride to the Bar O ranch—in fact, there was no incident worth noting. Pedro made several efforts to talk himself out of his plight, and once, he tried to get his hands out of the bonds that held them and almost succeeded. But what good it would have done if he had succeeded, is not plain. The boys had a sharp eye on him at all times, and his legs were firmly bound beneath the horse. Besides, Injun was right on hand and ready with the club, which would have had a very salutary effect on anybody.
Late in the afternoon, Bill Jordan and many of the cow-punchers stood near the corral of the Bar O, watching Walker break one of the green horses. Walker was having a more than ordinarily hard time with the animal, which evinced an extraordinary viciousness. No one saw the cavalcade until they were within the confines of the yard.
"Sufferin' Jehosaphat!" said Basset, "will yo'all give a look at what's here?"
In two seconds, Walker and the horse performed without any spectators, and the entire crowd made a rush for the trio. No one recognized Pedro at first, one reason being that he had further misbehaved himself in his use of lurid language, and he had been effectually gagged, and the effect of the red flannel underwear was somewhat startling.
Injun, too, presented a slightly ultra effect in Pedro's trousers which hung down and completely concealed his feet, and gave him the appearance of a boy with the legs of a very tall man; and the huge club that he brandished threateningly at the dejected looking Pedro added to the picturesqueness of the get-up. The entire party were worn out and travel-stained, and presented a most "shot-to-pieces" aspect. But notwithstanding his condition, Whitey was jubilant.
As they drew near the group of cow-men, Whitey shouted: "You told us to bring backsomething, and I guess we did!"
Bill Jordan drew nearer, eyeing the group intently and convulsed with laughter at their appearance.
"I reckon yo' shore did," said Bill, who was plainly puzzled, "but what is it?"
"I don't believe you need any introduction to the gentleman," said Whitey, "but if you do, I'll present you to him. He didn't want to come, but Injun and I persuaded him to accept an invitation to spend some time with us. Mr. Jordan and gentlemen of the Bar O, allow me to present Mr. Pedro! He would like to shake hands with you all, but circumstances prevent!"
And with this, Whitey removed the handkerchief that acted as a gag and obscured the lower part of the prisoner's face.
A howl went up from Bill and the ranch men that must have scared the cattle out on the range, and they crowded around the unhappy Pedro to assure themselves that it was really he. Bill Jordan could scarcely believe his eyes; he grabbed the pack-horse by the bridle and turned him around several times, and viewed the dejected Pedro from all angles; then he fixed his eyes on the outlaw and the latter quailed under the glance.
"I shore am plumb devastated with six kinds o' delight to meet yo', Mister! An' I don't doubt none thet th' gen'lemen here'll over-look th' onconventionality o' yo'r makin' yo'r début inta sassiety 'thout th' formality of havin' no pants on to speak of. 'Tain't usual—not in no drawin' rooms what I frequents, it ain't—but the' 's a 'Welcome' onto the mat o' this here dump fer yo', pants er no pants!"
"What kind of a galliwumpus er ring-tail giasticutus hev' we here?" said Walker, who had "finished" the broncho, and had come to join the group around the boys and Pedro. "Er is it jes' somethin' the cat brought in?"
"Give it another slant an' yo' won't need no interduction," said Bill, as he pushed Walker nearer to the unfortunate Pedro. Walker started as he looked keenly at the man's face.
"Well, I'll be tee-totally jim-swizzled!" shouted Walker. "Dog-gone ef it ain't our ol' frien' Pedro! Why, Pedro, ain't yo' 'shamed to be gallivantin' 'round all ondressed up, like yo' be? But, never mind, Ol' Top! We all is goin' to pervide yo' with a nice wooden over-coat thet'll cover up them red-flannel laigs o' yo'r'n so 't they don't flag the Overland Limited.
"Ain't it a shame we ain't got no camera—an' this here thing settin' on thet hoss in front of us! I reck'n Pedro's frien's 'd like a pitcher of 'im in this here get-up so's they c'd 'member how he looked jes' 'fore he kicked off!"
"I've got a camera," said Whitey, and running into the ranch-house, he returned with it in a moment.
At the sight of the camera, Walker set up a howl of delight. "Now, Mr. Photografter," he yelled to Whitey, "yo' git th' machine in kerflukus an' I'll pose this flamingo-legged buzzard inta divers an' sundry fascinatin' positions! Yo' jes' p'int that there box at 'im and I'll do the rest!"
"Hol' on!" said Charley Basset. "Thet there looks t'me like a perfec'ly good camera—ain't yo' takin' an awful chanct, Kid, a-p'intin' 'er at hunk o' dog-meat?"
"I guess the camera'll stand it, Charley," said Whitey, "though it has never had a severe test like this."
"Shore!" said Walker; "Take a chanct, Kid! When I gits through drapin' him 'round the scenery, I reckon he'll be some picture-squee!" Walker grabbed the bridle of the horse on which Pedro was perched and swung it around broadside to the camera. "Set up there, yo' owdacious varmint, an' look happy an' take yo'r medicine! Look happy, I tell yo'! 'F yo' don't look happy right pronto, I'll let Injun see 'f he kin bend thet there fence-post he's carryin' over yo'r bean!"
Injun moved up nearer and gripped the "fence-post" entirely ready to carry out his part of the program.
"Mebbe yo' better wait a minute, Injun," said Walker, "till we git the pitcher; 't wont do to sp'ile him altogether—yet!" said Walker significantly.
"All set?" asked Walker. "Ef so, shoot!"
Whitey pointed the camera at Pedro and got the proper focus. "Hol' thet pose, yo' spavined coyote!" yelled Walker, at Pedro. "Hol' it, I tell you!' 'F yo' move, an sp'ile this here negative, Injun is gonna bust yo' one! Look right at the box, yo' bashful an' blushin debbytanty! Look at th' box for mamma, an' see th' nice birdie come out!"
Whitey snapped the trigger, and Basset was much relieved to learn that the lens had not cracked. Under Walker's skilful and gentle posing, two or three more pictures were taken, and then Bill Jordan called a halt.
"I guess thet's 'bout 'nuff," he said. "The' ain't no use imposin' on a willin' an' good-natured pitcher-machine."
"All right," said Walker, "when does th' festivities start?" he asked of Jordan. "I claims th' honor of furnishin' th' rope!"
"Well," said Jordan, hesitatingly, "ef we all 'd run 'cross this here maverick's trail out in the open, I reckon the festivities 'd 'a' begun an' finished, right there. An' I certainly has regrets an' apologies 'bout denyin' yo' all th' privilege of takin' a active part in the obsequies touchin' on an' appertainin' to th' kickin' off o' this here polluted skunk. But this here community is committed to the statoots o' Law an' Order, in sech case made an' pervided, as The Good Book says; an' I reckon, as long as them boys went out an' hog-tied this here ulcer onto th' decency an' fair name o' the Sovereign State o' Montana, he'll hev' to be tried by a jury o' his peers—jes' like a respectable murderer would—tho' where they're going to git twelve peers o' this here low-down insec', is more'n I kin onderstand! I guess thet part of it's up to the Sher'ff."
"Try him!" shouted Walker, dashing his hat onto the ground, in amazement and rage; "try him! What in blazes does anybody want t' try him fer? Don't ever'body in sixteen states know 't he'd oughta bin hung ever sence he was two year old? Yo' an' yo'r statoots don't ondertake to try no mad dog, do yo'? Yo' don't go out an' collect no twelve peers to set on a jury 'fore yo're 'lowed to shoot the pizen head off'n him, do yo'? An' ef this bird ain't worse'n a hull kennel o' mad dogs an' a nest o' rattlers throwed in fer good measure, then I'm plumb locoed an' b'long into a padded cell up to the nut-foundry!"
"I admits all yo' says in regards to th' gen'leman's character—in fac', I may say yo' ain't done justice to him, not in no way, yo' ain't. But thet ain't the p'int—we got t' abide by th' law, no matter what he done, an' personal inclinations don't cut no figger. Ef 't 'd bin lef t' me, he'd 'a' bin 'requiescat in pieces,' a consider'ble spell back. But th' law's th' law, an' I got t' hand him over to th' a-thor'ties, jes' th' same's ef he was a white man. I'm plumb grieved, but I got t' do it! Why didn't yo' bust him over th' bean 'ith thet wand yo' got there, Injun?" asked Bill. "It 'd 'a' saved a lot o' palaverin' an' hard feelin's an' expense to th' caounty!"
"Him say bring 'im in!" said Injun, reproachfully, pointing to Whitey. "Me bust 'im now!" and Injun lifted the ponderous club and was prevented from braining Pedro, missing him by a narrow margin, as Bill Jordan deflected the blow.
"One strike!" said Walker. "Give th' kid a chanct—he's entitled to two more! Go on, Kid, knock him fer a three-bagger!"
"No more o' thet!" said Bill, with as much sternness as he could muster. "I'll take charge o' this dose o' small-pox an' put him on the ice till the Sher'ff gets here. Walker, go call up the Sher'ff's office, an' tell him t' come an' get this here prize-package. Seems t' me, now't I think of it, the's a reward comin' t' yo' two kids. 'F I remember right, the' was quite some consider'ble sum put onto his head. Seems like he was some valuable to the caounty."
This, indeed, turned out to be true, and within a short time, the sum of two thousand dollars was paid over to the representatives of the boys. Bill Jordan was selected by Injun as his guardian, and Bill accepted the responsibility gladly, but with some misgivings.
"What is yo' purposin' to buy with all this here kale, Mister Ping Pong Morgan?" asked Bill of the boy. "Would yo' ruther hev' a steam yacht er a coupla railroads?"
"Pink pajams!" said Injun, without any hesitation.
"A thousand dollars worth of 'em?" asked Bill.
"Sure!" said Injun.
"What started the trouble between you and Pedro, Injun?" asked Whitey, as they stood by the corral the next morning. Bill Jordan had just delivered Pedro into the hands of the Sheriff, and the half-breed had given vent to his opinion of Injun in the most lurid language that he had at his command, seeming to blame the boy for all his woes. The tirade had been interrupted by a blow in the mouth delivered by the Sheriff's heavy hand; but Pedro was taken away, cursing Injun volubly, and telling what he would do to him if he ever were able to get his hands on him, and the vehemence of the man left no doubt as to the amount of venom that was in his heart.
Injun grinned in answer to Whitey's question. "Him tell," he said, pointing to Bill Jordan. Making a lengthy narrative was not exactly Injun's long suit, and he delegated the job to Bill.
"Well," said the latter, "it came about this-away. Thet skunk hoboed it in here, one day, 'bout a year an' a half ago—when ol' man Granville was alive—an' he was 'bout the down-an'-outest proposition yo' ever see. He'd bin shot in the shoulder an' the wound hadn't had no attention an' th' cuss was 'bout all in. He didn't hev' no horse ner no gun ner no clothes t' speak of—he didn't hev' nuthin' 'cept hunger an' thirst an' mis'ry. Nobuddy 'd 'a' giv' five cents fer a car-load like him, 'cept fer fertilizer, an' it shore did look like he was playin' hookey from the graveyard with the ondertaker on his trail 'bout two jumps behind him an' gainin' fast. If ever a guy stod 'ith one foot in th' grave an' t'other on a banana-peel Pedro was it.
"Well, sir, ol' man Granville took him in—th' ol' man jes' nacher'ly couldn't see nuthin' suffer—an' started in t' renovate him; an' take it from me, it was some consider'ble job. He set up nights an' nu'sed thet low-down houn' back to life an' health, an' saw 't he had ever'thing—jus' like a white man 'd oughta. Seems like this here Pedro c'd talk French lingo an' so c'd ol' man Granville. When th' two of 'em was at it, y'd a thought the' was a pack o' fire-crackers goin' off, not t' mention th' activ'ties of their hands, which was consider'ble. 'Pears like a man 'tain't got no arms 'd be consider'ble handicapped expressin' himself lucid.
"Well, 't any rate," Bill went on, "in 'bout two months, Pedro was able to set up an' take a little nourishment while they made his bed, an' I c'd see 't he was a heap sight better 'n he let on t' be. An' him an' th' ol' man 'd set onto th' porch an' play pedro by th' hour. Th' ol' man liked th' game so well he lent Pedro money so's he c'd win it back—only it didn't turn out thet way, an' Pedro was a steady winner—so much so 't us boys giv' him thet name—'Pedro.' An' I will say 't the cuss was some gifted when it come to turnin' a Jack off'n th' bottom er shiftin' th' cut. I see him pull them stunts one day when I was watchin' th' game, but I didn't say nuthin' to th' ol' man 'bout it, him bein' free, white, an' over twenty-one an' not relishin' bein' told he were a sucker—not at no time he didn't! He always 'lowed he c'd pertect himself, an' mos' gener'ly he could.
"But while I didn't say nuthin', I thinks to myself 'what kind of a hombrey's this thet 'll giv' the work to a gent as has did as much fer him as th' ol' man done?' 'Peared t' me thet ef a guy yanked me back out 'n th' grave an' put me on my feet, I would flip no Jack off 'n th' bottom onhim—not fer no money, I wouldn't! But 'twa'n't none o' my business; besides, mebbe th' ol' man was jes' tryin' him out an' gittin' a line on him.
"An' 'nother thing—ever'body but th' ol' man c'd see thet Pedro was soldierin' on him an' was plenty able to get up an' earn a livin'. But thet wa'n't Pedro's gait—'s long's some-buddy take care o' him, he didn't pear t' worry none 'bout takin' care of himself. An' he'd four-flush round 'bout how sick he felt an' how his shoulder hurt, an' thet whiskey was 'bout th' onlies' thing 't relieved him. An' he shore licked up a lot o' th' relief! He was Alice-sit-by-th'-firewater, fer fair! Lit up like a Chrismus tree at ten in th' mornin', an' oreide by four in th' afternoon—reg'lar.
"Bimeby, when he did get to goin' 'bout, he got a sudden ambition fer work, an' th' ol' man giv' him a hoss an' outfit an' he rode fence. An' 's far anybuddy c'd see he done pretty good. But after a spell, things begun t' turn up missin'—not big things, but trifles—a little money, now an' then, an' a saddle er two, an' a lariat occasional, an' sech. Pedro managed to throw suspicion at Injun, here, an' we got t' thinkin' thet mebbe th' boy was at the bottom of them petty-larceny goin's on, an' fin'ly, I tells Injun he better keep off 'n th' ranch. Seems this didn't exac'ly tickle Injun t' death—him not bein' no thief—an' he done a little detectivin'. He trails Pedro an' locates his cache an' leads me an' Walker to it an' shows us th' stuff, includin' some things we knowed b'longed to Pedro. How thet bird got wind of it all I dunno, but he did; a right at th' same time me an' Walker was at the cache, an' most o' th' boys away from th' ranch-house, he snuk in a grabbed quite a roll of bills out 'n th' safe 't happened t' be open, an' took a shot at ol' man Granville, nickin' him in th' arm, an' gits away clean! Yes, sir—after all ol' man Granville done fer him!
"A spell afterwards, he meets up 'ith Injun—s'prises him, an' th' kid ain't got a chanct t' git away. He starts in t' hev a little hangin' bee—a necktie-party, like I tol' you' 'bout—but he made th' mistake o' lettin' Injun set onto his own pinto an' he put the noose 'round Injun's neck 'fore he throwed th' other end o' the lariat over th' limb o' th' tree! Th' minute he throwed th' lariat over th' limb, Injun dug his knees inta th' pinto—mind you', Injun's hands was tied behind his back—an' th' pinto knowin' what Injun was thinkin' 'bout, like I said, beats it away from there with th' lariat draggin' on th' ground! O' course, Pedro took after him, but lucky fer Injun, after he'd rode 'bout a mile, he sights me an' Walker ridin' fence, an' Pedro sights us, too. An' he beats it, an' we never seen him till yo' an' Injun brung him in here t' git his pitcher took."
Whitey took a long breath: "Gee!" he said, "That was a narrow escape!"
"Correct!" said Bill. "An' ef you don't think it was some trick fer thet kid t' set onta thet hoss, his hands tied behind him an' th' lariat draggin', yo' try it sometime!"
Bill put his hand on Injun's shoulder affectionately. "Thet's what I call ridin' a hoss!" he said.
If Columbus, or the early Norsemen, or who ever it was that first discovered America, had been satisfied to sail vessels within the confines of the known seas in their immediate neighborhood, the existence of this great continent would have remained unsuspected by the people of the Old World. It is the spirit of adventure, of dissatisfaction with things as they are, that is at the bottom of all great discoveries and of all progress. And although the boys had gained a wide-spread fame on account of their capture of the desperate Pedro, who was even then in jail awaiting the day of his execution, they did not like to rest on their laurels, but, like Alexander, sought for "new worlds to conquer."
After their excursion into the wilds, the life on the ranch, while by no means dull, lacked the zest of adventure and discovery, of which they or, rather, Whitey, at least, had had a taste. Injun had spent all his life in adventure, and while it was nothing new to him, it had become a sort of second nature, and made the limitations of even semi-civilization irksome.
And with this urge going on in Whitey's breast, it was natural that he should inquire of Bill Jordan, as they sat on the piazza one evening, "Mr. Jordan, what kind of a place is it in the mountains, over beyond Moose Lake?"
Bill took his pipe out of his mouth and looked intently at the boys before replying.
"Was yo' calc'latin' on goin' out an' grabbin' off some more rewards an' sech, bringin' in some more hombreys like Pedro? Er mebbe, yo' all'd be satisfied t' locate a coupla gold mines er somethin'? What was yo' all studyin' 'bout doin'?"
"I don't know as I had a definite plan," said Whitey, "I just asked you what kind of a place it was over there."
"Yes, I know—yo' all didn't have no intentions—that's why yo' all wanted to know 'bout the place!" and Bill grinned, tolerantly. Then, after thinking a moment, he said, "As fur's the place goes, I reckon it's some wild an' on-cultivated. I ain't bin through it fer some years, but I reckon 'tain't changed none t' speak of. Prospectors give up tryin' there long ago, an' I reckon 'tain't good fer much else—consider'ble amount o' rocks an' scenery—thet's 'bout all.
"I wouldn't mind owning a gold mine," said Whitey. "That is, a good one," he qualified. Bill uncrossed his legs suddenly and puffed rapidly, as he shook all over with inward laughter.
"The's them's had thet idee before, Son," he said, grinning. "A reel good gold mine's a handy little thing t' hev 'bout the house! I dunno'sI'dturn one down ef 't was offered t' me!"
"Well," said Whitey, "I guess the only way to get one is to go out and find it, isn't it? I don't believe anybody is going around offering 'em to people."
"Would yo' know a perfeckly good gold mine 'f yo' was t' meet it comin' 'long the road?" asked Bill. "Hev' yo' got a speakin' acquaintance with gold mines, so 't yo' c'd walk right up to 'em an' bid 'em the time o' day?"
"Well," said Whitey, "gold is gold, isn't it? I've been seeing it all my life—I ought to know it!"
"Well," said Bill, "they don't dig it out 'n the ground in the form o' twenty-dollar gold-pieces er watches an' chains an' rings—not this season, they don't. Lemme show yo' all somethin'," and Bill rose and went into the ranch-house. In a moment, he returned with a dirty reddish looking piece of rock about the size of a hen's egg and handed it to Whitey. "What 'd yo' calc'late thet thing is?" he asked, as he resumed his seat.
Whitey examined it, and Injun looked at it interestedly. "I should say, if we had not been talking about gold, that it was a piece of iron ore, but now I suppose it's gold."
"Correct!" said Bill, "an' mighty near pure gold, too! Whenever yo' come across a few tons o' stuff jes' like thet, jes' yo' put 'em in yo'r pocket, an' ol' John D. won't hev nuthin' on yo'!"
"Is there any of it over beyond Moose Lake?" asked Whitey.
"Strange to say," said Bill, "thet there chunk come from over thet way. But I guess thet was 'bout all of it the Lord put there, thet is, in the way o' quartz—I reckon 'bout all the streams shows color, but they don't never pay to work 'em."
"Well, don't you think Injun and I——"
"Yes," interrupted Bill. "I do. Ef yo' two galliwumpuses hes made up yo'r minds t' go out an' get yo'rselfs a few gold mines, I ain't th' man t' put the kibosh onto it—only, yo' ain't goin' therealone—not ef I'm the lawful g'ardeen o' thet there person 'ith the passion fer pink pants, yo' ain't! Yo' all kind o' got me excited 'bout prospectin'—I ain't done none fer years; but onct it gits a holt onto yo', it ain't easy shook—an' as this here ranch is a good deal of a pianola proposition—plays itself—mebbe I c'd find time to go nosin' 'round with yo' all fer a spell. Air yo' all open fer a pardner?"
Were they open for a partner! They were! Nothing could have delighted the boys more than to have Bill accompany them; and the next few days were spent in preparations. But, unfortunately, things do not always turn out as planned. Plenty of things turned out—but not according to Bill's schedule. All that will be known when Injun and Whitey strike out for themselves.