Charlie to the Rescue Part 28

said Jake, in a voice of authority.

The man was taken aback and obeyed; but as Jake mounted he turned suddenly pale.

The outlaw, observing the change, drew the revolver, and, pointing it at the trooper's head, said, in a low savage voice, "A word, a sound, and your brains are on the floor!"

The man stood open-mouthed, as if petrified. Jake shook the reins of the fiery horse and bounded through the door-way, stooping to the saddle-bow as he went. He could see, even at that moment, that the trooper, recovering himself, was on the point of uttering a shout.

Wheeling round in the saddle he fired, and the man fell with a bullet in his brain.

The shot of course aroused the whole ranch. Men rushed into the yard with and without arms in wild confusion, but only in time to see a flying horseman cross the square and make for the gate. A rattling irregular volley was sent after him, but the only effect it had was to cause the outlaw to turn round in the saddle and wave his hat, while he gave vent to a yell of triumph. Another moment and he was beyond the bluff and had disappeared.

"Boot and saddle!" instantly rang out at the ranch, and every preparation was made for pursuit, though, mounted as Jake was on the best horse of the troop, they could not hope to overtake him.

Hunky Ben, at his own particular request was permitted to go on in advance.

"You see, sir," he said to the captain, "my Black Polly an't quite as good as your charger, but she's more used to this sort o' country, an' I can take the short cuts where your horse could hardly follow."

"Go, Ben, and good luck go with you! Besides, we can do without you, now that we have Mr Brooke to guide us."

"Come wi' me, sir," said Hunky Ben, as he pa.s.sed Charlie on his way to the stables. "Don't you hesitate, Mr Brooke, to guide the captain to the cave of Buck Tom. I'm goin' on before you to hunt up the reptiles-- to try an' catch Jake the Flint."

The scout chuckled inwardly as he said this.

"But why go in advance? You can never overtake the scoundrel with such a start and on such a horse."

"Never you mind what I can or can't do," said Ben, entering the stable where the dead trooper still lay, and unfastening Black Polly. "I've no time to explain. All I know is that your friend Leather is sure to be hanged if he's cotched, an' I'm sure he's an innocent man--therefore, I'm goin' to save him. It's best for you to know nothin' more than that, for I see you're not used to tellin' lies. Can you trust _me_?"

"Certainly I can. The look of your face, Ben, even more than the character you bear, would induce me to trust you."

"Well then, Mr Brooke, the first sign o' trust is to obey orders without askin' questions."

"True, when the orders are given by one who has a right to command,"

returned Charlie.

"Just so, an' my right to command lies in the fact that the life o' your friend Leather depends on your obedience."

"I'm your humble servant, then. But what am I to do?"

"Do whatever Captain Wilmot orders without objectin', an' speak nothing but the truth. You don't need to speak the _whole_ truth, hows'ever,"

added the scout thoughtfully, as he led out his coal-black steed. "Your friend Leather has got a Christian name of course. Don't mention it. I don't want to hear it. Say nothin' about it to anybody. The time may come when it may be useful to drop the name of Leather and call your friend Mister whatever the tother name may be. Now mind what I've said to ye."

As he spoke the last words the scout touched the neck of his beautiful mare, and in another minute was seen racing at full speed over the rolling plain.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

TELLS OF A CRUEL DEED, AND SHOWS HOW MYSTERIOUSLY HUNKY BEN BEHAVED.

When Jake escaped from the ranch of Roaring Bull he tried the mettle of Captain Wilmot's charger to the uttermost, for well he knew that the pursuit would be instant and vigorous; that his late comrade Charlie Brooke could guide the troops to the cavern in Traitor's Trap, and that if his companions, who would doubtless ride straight back, were to escape, they must be warned in time. He also knew that the captain's charger was a splendid one. In order to accomplish his purpose, therefore, he would ride it to death.

The distance between the ranch and the outlaws' cave was not so great but that any mustang in the plains could have traversed it in a day, but the cruel man had made up his mind that the captain's charger should do it in a few hours. It is not so much distance as pace that kills. Had any consideration whatever been extended to the n.o.ble creature by the ign.o.ble brute who rode it, the good horse would have galloped to the head of the Trap almost without turning a hair. At first he strode out over the rolling prairie with the untiring vigour of a well-made frame and a splendid const.i.tution, leaping the little cracks and inequalities of the ground in the exuberance of his strength; though there was no need to bound, and coursing over the knolls as easily as he cantered down the hollows, while his flashing eye betokened at once a courageous and a gentle spirit. But when the lower slopes of the hills were reached, and steepish gradients were met with here and there, the horse began to put back first one ear and then the other, and sometimes both, as if in expectation of the familiar "well done," or pat on the neck, or check of the rein with which the captain had been wont to sanction a slackening of the pace, but no such grace was allowed him. On the contrary, when the first symptom appeared of a desire to reduce speed Jake drove his cruel spurs into the charger's glossy side. With a wild snort and bound the horse stretched out again and spurned the ground as if in indignant surprise.

Then the breath began to labour slightly; the sweat to darken his rich brown coat, and the white foam to fleck his broad chest. Still Jake pressed him on with relentless fury. It could not be expected that a man who cared not for his fellows would have much consideration for his beast. Murder of a deeper dye than that of a horse was seething in the outlaw's brain. This to him useless expedition, which had so nearly cost him his life, would be the last that Buck Tom should command.

After blowing out _his_ brains he would warn the others of the impending danger and lead them away to other and more favourable fields of enterprise.

At this point the good horse stumbled and almost threw his rider, who, with horrible curses, plied the spurs and tugged at the bit until blood was mingled with the flying foam. Never, save once--when Captain Wilmot was caught alone in the plains by Cheyenne Indians and had to fly for his life--had the good charger been urged to anything like such an effort as he was now called on to make, and _then_ there was no cruelty mingled with the urging. The very tone of his master's voice, as he patted the neck and shook the rein and gently touched him with the spur, must have convinced the intelligent creature that it was a matter of life or death--that there was a stern need-be for such haste.

Turning at last into the gorge of the Trap, the charger gasped and sobbed with distress as he faced the steep ascent and tried, with the unabated courage of a willing heart, to pull himself together while the unmerciful monster still drove in the spurs and galled his tender mouth.

But the brave effort was unavailing. Stumbling over a root that crossed the path, the horse plunged forward, and fell with a crash, sending his rider over his head. Jake, alighting on his face and right shoulder, lay stunned for a few seconds. Then he jumped up, displaying torn garments and a face covered with blood.

Running to the horse's head he seized the rein and shook it savagely, kicking the animal's face with his heavy boots in his anxiety to make it rise, but the poor charger was beyond his cruelty by that time, for its neck had been broken by the fall.

Oh! it was one of those sights which are fitted to make even thoughtless men recognise the need of a Saviour for the human race, and to reject with something like scorn the doctrine--founded on wholly insufficient evidence--that there is no future of compensation for the lower animals!

The outlaw did not waste time in vain regrets. Bestowing a meaningless curse on the dead charger, he turned and went up the narrow glen at a smart pace, but did not overstrain himself, for he knew well that none of the troop-horses could have kept up with him. He counted on having plenty of time to warn his comrades and get away without hurry. But he reckoned without his host--being quite ignorant of the powers of Black Polly, and but slightly acquainted with those of her master Hunky Ben.

Indeed so agile were the movements of Polly, and so thoroughly was the scout acquainted with the by-paths and short cuts of that region, that he actually pa.s.sed the fugitive and reached the head of Traitor's Trap before him. This he managed by forsaking the roads, keeping a straighter line for the outlaws' cave, and pa.s.sing on foot over the shoulder of a hill where a horseman could not go. Thus he came down on the cavern, about half-an-hour before Jake's arrival. Clambering to the crevice in the cliff against which the cave ab.u.t.ted, and sliding down into a hollow on its earthen roof, he cautiously removed a small stone from its position, and disclosed a hole through which he could both hear and see most of what took place inside.

Lest any one should wonder at the facility with which the ground lent itself to this manoeuvre, we may as well explain that the bold scout possessed one of those far-reaching minds which are not satisfied without looking into _everything_,--seeing to the bottom of, and peering round to the rear of, all things, as far as possible. He always acted on the principle of making himself acquainted with every road and track and by-path, every stream, pond, river, and spring in the land. Hence he was well aware of this haunt of outlaws, and, happening to be near it one day when its owners were absent, he had turned aside to make the little arrangement of a peep-hole, in the belief that it might possibly turn out to be of advantage in course of time!

The clump of shrubs and gra.s.s on the rugged bank, which formed the top of the cave, effectually concealed the natural hollow which he had deepened, and the overhanging ma.s.s of the rugged cliff protected it from rain and dew.

What Hunky Ben saw on looking through his peep-hole filled him with surprise and pity, and compelled him to modify his plans.

Almost below him on a brush couch, lay the tall form of Buck Tom, with the unmistakable hue of approaching death upon his countenance. Beside him, holding his head, kneeled the much-wasted figure of Leather--the reputed outlaw. Seated or standing around in solemn silence were six of the outlaws, most of whom bore tokens of the recent fight, in the form of bandage on head or limb.

"I brought you to this, Leather; G.o.d forgive me," said the dying man faintly.

"No, you didn't, Ralph," replied the other, calling him by his old familiar name, "I brought myself to it. Don't blame yourself, Ralph; you weren't half so bad as me. You'd never have been here but for me.

Come, Ralph, try to cheer up a bit; you're not dying. It's only faint you are, from loss of blood and the long gallop. When you've had a sleep and some food, you'll feel stronger. We'll fetch a doctor soon, an' he'll get hold o' the bullet. Dear Ralph, don't shake your head like that an' look so solemn. Cheer up, old boy!"

Leather spoke with a sort of desperate fervour, but Ralph could not cheer up.

"No," he said sadly, "there is no cheer for me. I've thrown my life away. There's no hope--no mercy for me. I've been trying to recall the past, an' what mother used to teach me, but it won't come. There's only one text in all the Bible that comes to me now. It's this--`Be sure your sin will find you out!' That's true, boys," he said, turning a look on his comrades. "Whatever else may be false, _that's_ true, for I _know_ it."

"That's so, dear Ralph," said Leather earnestly, "but it's no less true that--"

Just then a noise was heard in the outer pa.s.sage; then hurrying footsteps. Instinctively every man drew his revolver and faced the door. Next moment Jake entered.

"Here, one of you; a drink--I'm fit to--ha!"

His eyes fell on the figure of Buck and he shrank back for a moment in silent surprise.

"Yes, Jake," said the dying man, with a glance of pity not unmingled with scorn, "it has come sooner than you or I expected, and it will save you some trouble--maybe some regret. I've seen through your little game, Jake, and am glad I've been spared the necessity of thwarting you."

He stopped owing to weakness, and Jake, recovering himself, hastily explained the reason of his sudden appearance.

"Fetch me a rag an' some water, boys," he continued. "It looks worse than it is--only skin deep. And we've not a moment to lose. Those who have a mind may follow _me_. Them that wants to swing may stop."