The Great Cattle Trail
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Not the first star-like glimmer rewarded him. Blank darkness enclosed him on every hand. It was right above, below, to the right and left and to the front and rear.
“Well, I’ll be shot if this doesn’t beat everything!” was his exclamation, when he came to understand his helplessness; “it looks as if I would have done the folks a great deal more good if I had stayed with them.”
Slipping down from the back of his mustang, which he took care to hold by means of the halter, Avon pressed his ear to the earth, as is the practice of those in a similar situation.
At first he thought he detected the sounds of hoofs, but the next moment he knew it was only fancy. The better conductor in the form of the ground told him no more than did the gloom that surrounded him.
While thus engaged, the mustang tugged at the rope, as if wishing to free himself. He must have felt that he was controlled by a strange hand, but his efforts were easily restrained.
As nearly as Avon could judge, he had travelled more than two miles since leaving the cabin, so that, provided he had followed the proper course, he must have passed half the distance. But if that were the case, he ought to see signs of the camp. It is the custom of the cattlemen, when on the move, to keep a lantern suspended from the front of the provision wagon, to serve as a guide for the rest, and this ought to be visible for several miles to one in his elevated position.
Holding the thong in one hand, the youth now pointed his Winchester toward the sky and discharged several barrels, in the hope that the reports would reach the ears of the Texans and bring a response from them. The mustang did not stir a muscle; he was so accustomed to that sort of thing that his nerves were not disturbed.
This appeal was equally futile, and, as Avon flung himself again upon the back of his horse, a feeling akin to despair came over him.
“Perhaps it was quite an exploit to get through the Comanche lines without harm,” he said to himself, “but of what avail? I shall wander round and round until daylight, with no more knowledge of where I am than if I were groping among the Rocky Mountains; and, long before the rise of sun, the fate of Uncle Dohm and the folks will be settled.”
A feeling of exasperation succeeded his depression of spirits. It was beyond endurance that he should be so near help and yet be unable to secure it. If he could but gain an inkling of the right course, he would dart across the prairie with the speed of an arrow.
He had neglected no possible means of informing himself. Recalling the direction of the wind, he strove to make use of that; but as if even the elements had united against him, he was not long in discovering that the wind was fitful and changing, and his attempt to use it as a guide had much to do with his going so far astray.
The rifle was discharged again, but the listening ear caught no response, and the conviction forced itself upon him that, instead of journeying toward the camp, he was really further from it than when he started.
The mustang began to grow restless once more. Avon spoke sharply, and started him off without any attempt to guide him. To his surprise, the steed turned to the left almost at right angles, and without any urging on his part, broke into a canter.
“I don’t understand that,” said the rider; “he certainly knows more than I do, but it is too much to expect him to carry me to my destination without any direction from me. But he is as likely to be right as wrong, and so I’ll let him do as he chooses. You’re a mighty fine animal,” continued the youth, as the steed broke into a gallop, “but I wouldn’t give Thunderbolt for a hundred like you; he knows something, and when I’m caught in a fix like this, he is sure to help me out.”
The youth feared that the mustang was trying to return to his master. He, therefore, brought him down to a walk, though he broke into a canter more than once, and leaning forward, peered through the gloom, on the alert for the first sign of danger.
“Uncle Dohm believed the Comanches meant to set fire to the house; if he hadn’t thought so, I wouldn’t have been in this plight; it strikes me that it is about time they made a start; if they do so, I will take a hand in that little game.”
At the first glow anywhere in the sky, telling of the use of the torch, Avon would have driven his mustang thither like the whirlwind, and it is safe to believe that his Winchester would have done more effective service than ever before. But the bright eyes which continually scanned every portion of the murky heavens caught no glimmer of a single star.
The mustang gave a slight whinny and rose to a canter again, but was roughly checked by his new master.
“What the mischief is the matter with you?”
Just then, something took shape in the gloom ahead. Avon stopped his steed and leaned forward. Yes; it was unmistakable.
There it stood–a long, low cabin, whose familiar contour told the alarming fact that he had come back to his starting-point, and was among the Comanches in front of his own home!
CHAPTER XI.
CHANGING PLACES
The triumph of the colored servant Dinah over the Comanche incendiary may be described as overwhelming in its way.
The redskin was caught at so great disadvantage, that he was hurled from the roof before he could check himself or make use of the knife he had snatched from his girdle. Indeed, it was at the instant of striking his vicious blow that he went over the eaves. This preserved his awkwardness of posture, and prevented his making any preparation for the violent fall.
The miscreant would have struck the ground with a “dull thud,” but for an unexpected buffer in the shape of one of his brother warriors, who happened to be standing directly under. As a consequence, the sprawling figure came down on the head and shoulders of the astounded Comanche, who collapsed with a feeling that must have made him suspect the house had fallen on him.
The mishap saved the victim of Dinah’s wrath, but at a stunning cost to the under fellow, who lay for a minute or two as if dead, before he was able to regain his breath and climb to his feet.
In the meantime, the author of this catastrophe was wise enough to improve the moments.
“Dar!” she muttered, checking herself on the edge of the roof, “I reckons you know a blamed sight more dan you eber did afore, and arter dis, when you tries to steal into a ’spectable lady’s room, you’ll knock at de doah fust.”
It was not to be supposed that in the darkness the Comanches below would grasp the situation offhand, and, before they could do so, Dinah scurried over the peak of the roof to the scuttle, which of course was still open, and descended. In her haste, she stepped upon the back of the chair, which tripped over, and she went down with a crash that shook the entire building.
Mrs. Shirril dashed into the room, in consternation.
“What in Heaven’s name is the matter, Dinah?”
“Nuffin’s de matter wid me, but I guess it am all day wid dat cheer, howsumeber.”
The captain hurried up the ladder, flung back the covering, and leaped into the apartment.
“Who’s killed? What’s the trouble?” he gasped.
“Nuffin,” replied the servant, impatient with the continued questioning; “I’s been promenadin’ a little on de roof and de cheer flopped ober when I sot my foot on it.”
Everything being in darkness, the eyes of the party were useless. The captain groped around to help Dinah to her feet, but she was already there, sound in limb and body.
“If you wants sumfin to do, capting,” said she, “jes’ fasten dat doah above yer head.”
“How came it open?” he asked, as he hastily complied, still unable to comprehend what had taken place.
“Habent I jes’ tole yer dat I’s been out on de roof?”
“I heard her there,” said the wife, “and was on my way to learn what it meant, when the crash came.”
In answer to the questions of the couple, Dinah soon made clear what had taken place. Her employers were filled with admiration of her pluck, and wonder at its brilliant success. That she had saved the dwelling from burning and averted a frightful death from them all was evident. They praised her highly, though the captain insisted that she ought to have told him of her intention before climbing through upon the roof.
“Cotch me doin’ dat,” she chuckled, “when I knowed dat you would hab stopped me. Dinah aint as big a fool as she looks.”
“No one certainly could have managed it with the skill shown by you. I would have kept within the opening and shot the scamp.”
“And what would you hab done wid de fiah, eh?”
“Put it out in some way.”
“And got shot yourself! Your fut isn’t as promisc’us as mine and it would hab tooken you longer; it wanted only one slap ob my shoe and de bus’ness war done.”
“Perhaps you were right,” said the captain with a laugh; “but I am afraid we are not through with those attempts; they came so near succeeding that they will soon try it again.”
“I don’t t’ink dat black rascal will try it wery soon, ’cause I gib him a shookin’ up dat he wont git ober for a week.”
“I have no doubt of that, but there are others just as venturesome as he, and they will try it.”
“Is not that the only source of danger?” asked the wife.
“It can hardly be said to be so, but it’s the chief source; I will stay here, and you, Edna, had better go below; the room is so well cleared of smoke that it will cause you little trouble.”
“And what is I gwine to do?” asked Dinah.
“You may accompany your mistress; if I find myself in need of you I will call.”
“I’s afeard you won’t t’ink yourself in need ob me, if some more ob dem scamps come pokin’ round de doah up dere.”
“Well, I will try to take care of them myself, but I give you my word if your help is needed it will be asked.”
This was the most that the servant could get from her master, and she had no choice but to do as directed. Mrs. Shirril led the way down the ladder, followed by her servant, and they quickly found themselves on the lower floor.
Enough smoke remained in the room to cause Dinah another fit of sneezing, but the shattered window and the opening of the door at the head of the primitive stairs gave such good vent that a rapid improvement took place.
“I don’t see that there is much for us to do,” remarked the mistress, taking her place near the door, and out of range of either of the windows, “but they may try something of which we have no suspicion, and, if so, we shall have the chance to do better service here than above stairs.”
“Poserbly, but it doesn’t strike me dat way; seems to me dat fiah am ’ginning to flare up again.”
The smothering blanket by this time was so far consumed that the embers showed beneath, though with less strength than at first. They diffused a slight illumination through the room, and enabled the two women to see each other’s figures dimly, as they moved silently about, alert, listening, and watchful.
The embers could have been extinguished by making use of the same means as before, but the certainty of a denser volume of strangling smoke, to say nothing of the loss of the valuable article, prevented any use of the remedy.
“Bress my soul, if dar isn’t anoder warmint!”
Dinah, rifle in hand, had stationed herself by the heavy door, against which she slightly leaned. As she did so, she felt an almost insensible yielding on its part, as though a powerful pressure on the outside was being exerted to force it inward.
“How can you know that?” asked her mistress, stepping to her side.
“Jes put your hand right here and feel for yourself.”
The delicate hand of the lady was placed against the structure, and there could be no doubt that someone was pushing strongly against the other side.
“Yes,” said she in a low voice, “they are there, but they can do no harm, as long as they confine themselves to that.”
“S’pose dey butt dar heads agin it?”
“It will be worse for their heads than for the door, but I think your people are the only ones who work that way.”
“Dat’s ’cause we hab de hardest kind ob heads,” was the truthful response; “but mebbe dey’s usin’ somethin’ else to break in de door.”
“It can do no injury if they do,” replied Mrs. Shirril, who could not shake off a feeling of uneasiness because of the discovery.
While it was apparent that the door could not be forced by any conceivable means at the command of the Comanches, there was a doubt as to their precise intentions that troubled the good woman. She had the proof that their relentless enemies were busy, and their well-known cunning was likely to suggest ways of reaching their end, which, for a time at least, must remain unsuspected by the defenders of the cabin.
CHAPTER XII.
ON THE ROOF
Captain Dohm Shirril was never more in earnest than when he declared that the Comanches meant to renew their attempt to fire his cabin.
Having come so near success, they would resort to the same means, taking care to provide against a second ignominious defeat at the hands of the defenders.
The darkness, on the whole, was far more helpful to the latter than to their assailants, for, if care was used, it was beyond the power of the Indians to discover the presence of any person on the roof. The Comanches, from the force of circumstances, would have to move back some rods from the building, to see the cover, and that distance was sufficient to shut out all sight of a figure, so long as it remained prone. If a man rose to his feet, as Dinah had done, his outlines would show, and he would become an instant target for the redskins.
It was with a full conviction of these important facts that the Texan, imitating the action of his servant, unfastened the scuttle, and noiselessly let it fall back behind him. Then he thrust his head and shoulders through and scanned the half of the roof in his field of vision.
Nothing to cause alarm was discerned, and rising still higher, he peered over the peak to the other side.
The air had the odor of burning wood, and the cavity burned in the roof showed signs of life, but they were so slight as to be harmless. They would soon die out, despite the strong wind still blowing.
It need not be said that the Texan had not the remotest intention of following the example of his servant. If he should discover the presence of an Indian on the roof, little fear of an attempt to steal upon him unaware and fling him to the earth below. The captain held his Winchester firmly grasped and most of its chambers were charged. That offered the true solution of his problem, in case of the appearance of danger, and he was not the man to hesitate in such an emergency.
He did not fail to notice that which was observed by his nephew: the Comanches had ceased their whooping and firing, though the tramping of their mustangs proved that most of the warriors were still mounted and circling back and forth in the aimless effort to detect some means of getting at the defiant inmates of the house.
“Avon has given them the slip,” was his conclusion, “though he must have had a close call. There is one Indian less, at any rate, than when he stole out of the cabin.”
Such was the fact, though, as we have shown, he did not fall by the rifle of the youth.
The Texan was standing on the chair in the upper room, with his head and shoulders through the opening, all his senses on the alert, when he caught the faint report of a rifle, repeated several times. The sounds came from a point a long way off, and he could only conjecture their cause.
“If it was over yonder,” he added, referring to a point of the compass almost opposite, “I would believe the boy fired the gun and had come in collision with some more of the scamps that are so plenty to-night, but he can’t be over there, because that would lead him further from the camp of the cattlemen.”
And yet, as the reader suspects, the rifle was discharged by the young man, who, in obedience to the general law, had strayed in the wrong direction in his blind search for his friends.
It was not necessary to give any attention to matters below stairs. He could not believe that danger threatened there, but, should it appear in an unexpected form, the women would give quick notice, and he could hasten to their aid.
“Avon ought to reach camp in half an hour,” continued the Texan, following his train of thought; “true, he is on foot, but he knows every step of the way, and won’t allow the grass to grow under his feet; it will take the boys about half a minute to make ready; the cattle can be left to themselves, so they ought to be here within three-quarters of an hour, and won’t they make fur fly when they do come!” added the Texan with a thrill; “they will welcome such a chance to even up matters with these cattle thieves, who have been hanging round the country for nearly a week; they will give them a lesson which will make it safe for the women until we get back, even if gone six months.”
Despite his watchfulness against his foes, his gaze continually wandered to the northward, whence the expected aid was to come. His elevation was not sufficient to permit him to see beyond the ridge which his relative must pass to reach camp, but he listened for the assuring shouts which were sure to proclaim the arrival of the brave fellows who were always ready to risk their lives for a friend.
Although the captain relied chiefly upon the darkness to screen him from sight of the Comanches, he could not feel sure of entire safety in his situation. In order to hold all of the roof in his field of vision, he had to keep not only his head but his shoulders above the level of the scuttle. By doing this, he could look over the peak, but his danger lay in the evident fact that the Indians knew the location of the opening, and would use their eyes for all they were worth in striving to detect anyone venturing out of it.
The conviction, therefore, was that his conspicuous posture was likely to reveal his outlines to some watchful warrior, who might rise to his feet on the back of his steed so as to permit a closer view of the roof.
No more uncomfortable sensation can be imagined than that of one who continually invites the skill of a sharp-shooter, and the Texan met the difficulty not by shrinking, like a turtle, within his protection, but by climbing stealthily out upon the planking, where he remained extended at full length.
This rendered him less liable to be seen, but if his assailants should take a notion to sweep the deck, as may be said, with rifle bullets, he was far more likely to receive some of them in his person than he would be by retaining his former place.
But a greater or less degree of danger must attend any effort to frustrate the designs of the red men, who were inspired by a hatred intensified by the loss of two of their number.
With his face almost pressing the planking the Texan drew himself, inch by inch, along the roof, until he was some six feet distant. Then he paused and listened, slightly raising his head and peering around in the gloom.
Once he heard the hoofs of a galloping horse, which, however, quickly ceased. Then several whistle-like signals passed between the marauders, and he was able to catch the murmur of voices within the cabin. The wife and servant were talking together, and, though their words were low, the open doors allowed the slight noise to reach the ears of the Texan, without telling him what words were spoken.
Holding his position several minutes, he turned a little to the left and crept along, until able to look over the low peak of the roof. He did this by raising his head the few inches necessary to bring his eyes just above the level.
Everything, so far as he could judge, was the same as before. The smouldering in the cavity had died out, though the smoke was as pungent as ever.
“Dinah could not have done her work more effectively, and a reasonable person ought to be satisfied–”
His keen sense of hearing apprised him of a noise, slight but significant, near him. His first thought was that it was in front, but the next moment he knew it came from the rear. Turning his head in that direction, without moving his body, he caught the outlines of a Comanche’s head at the lower corner of the roof behind him. It slowly rose until the shoulders appeared, and no doubt remained that the Indian was cautiously climbing upon the roof, to renew the attempt to set fire to it.
CHAPTER XIII.
A DEAD RACE
Avon Burnet was thunderstruck. When he supposed he was several miles from the cabin of his uncle, he found himself directly in front of it, and the Indian horse, upon which he relied to take him to the camp of the cattlemen, had brought him to what might be called the mouth of the lion’s den.
Not only had the precious minutes been thrown away, but his peril was of the most desperate nature.
Hardly had the pony halted, when a couple of figures loomed to view in the darkness on the left, and one of them called to him in Comanche. This told the youth that his identity was unsuspected by the red men, whose view was too indistinct to distinguish him from one of their own number. But they were coming toward him, and his broad sombrero must reveal the truth the next instant.
Not a second was to be lost. They were almost upon him, when he wheeled and urged his mustang to a dead run, throwing himself forward at the same moment, in the usual way, to avoid the bullets that would be whistling about him before he could pass beyond reach.
But the steed got the mischief in him at this moment. He must have understood the treachery demanded of him, for instead of dashing off, as was expected, he spitefully flung his head from side to side and reared, with his fore-legs high from the ground.
Had Avon been on the open prairie, with time at his command, he would have conquered the beast, as he had done many a time with others, but he could not do so now. There was not the twinkling of an eye at his disposal.
The mustang was still rearing and pawing the air, when Avon whisked over his shoulder, like a skilled equestrian, landing nimbly on his feet, and breaking into a dead run toward the cattle camp five miles away. His action, as well as that of his horse, made known the astonishing truth to the approaching Comanches.
Several warning whoops broke the stillness, and it seemed to the fugitive that half the Indians were in pursuit of him. He glanced back and was not a little surprised to observe that all were on foot. The pony which had just been freed must have concluded to enjoy his liberty while the chance was his, for, instead of going to his master, he galloped whinnying in another direction.
But all of these men had mustangs, which, as has been said, were among the finest of their species, and they were likely to take part in the singular contest.
If the chase should retain its present character the young man had hope, for he was one of the fleetest of Texans, who had never met his superior among the veterans of the plains. The Comanches are also wonderfully active on foot, and it remained to be decided whether they could overtake him in a fair contest.
Avon Burnet ran as never before. He was speeding now for his own life as well as for that of his friends, for they were in as urgent need of help as ever. He knew his face was toward camp, he remembered the nature of the ground, and had no fear, therefore, of stumbling into any pitfalls.
Accustomed as the Comanches were to running, they must have been surprised at the burst of speed shown by the young man, who seemed to be going over the plain like the wind.
As he ran Avon cast furtive glances over his shoulder, and his heart tingled when he saw that he was steadily drawing away from the four figures which seemed to have sprung from the ground itself.
“Keep it up, boys,” he muttered, “and see where you land. If you can down me in this style, you are welcome.”
But it was not to be expected that the pursuers would content themselves while the swift-footed youth left them out of sight. The moment they saw that such an issue was likely, they would resort to their rifles, and there could be no question of their skill with those weapons, which they had been accustomed to use from the hour they were strong enough to hold one of them.
There must have been some urgent wish on the part of the red men to capture the youth, else they would have appealed to their guns at first. The rearing mustang served as a partial shield to the fugitive, until he was fairly under way and had secured a start of several rods, in fact being almost invisible in the gloom at the moment the race fairly opened.