Cowmen and Rustlers Part 35

"Why, Larch, I'm tempted to pull your ears; you are a fine gallant; here I have been standing full ten seconds, waiting for you to help me on the horse, and you have paid me no attention."

"It _was_ rude, my dear; I hope you will pardon me," he replied, stepping quickly forward, "but I am very absent-minded to-night."

"I will pardon you, of course, for you have been so good and nice that it would be ungrateful for me to be impatient."

He took the Cinderella-like foot in his broad palm and cleverly a.s.sisted her in the saddle. While he helped to adjust the reins, her tongue rattled on harder than ever.

"How far, Larch, will it be necessary for me to ride so as to be sure--mind you, sure--of being out of the way when this awful business opens?"

"Well, I should say a hundred yards or so will be enough--"

"Mercy! do you think so? I ought to go two or three times as far as that; you won't object, will you? and when the shooting _does_ begin, I can hurry Jack farther off."

"Do as you think best; but it seems to me, Jennie, that you are forgetting your mother--"

"O, no; when Fred brings her out--maybe he has done so now--tell her the direction I have gone and she will understand. Which is the best course for me to take? I guess it don't make any difference, so I will go this way."

Through all this apparently aimless chatter, Miss Jennie Whitney was using her wits. She knew a long ride was before her, and everything would be ruined if she lost her way. There was no moon or stars to give guidance, and she therefore carefully took her bearings while the chance was hers.

"I suppose it's all the same which course you follow, but I fear I am doing wrong in allowing you to ride off--"

"Now, don't spoil everything by regretting the handsome way in which you have indulged my whim; I think I will ride over the ridge to the left--"

"Hold on, Jennie, until I can speak to Inman; he may object--"

"You can speak to him after I am gone; good-night, Larch, and many thanks again for your kindness."

She rode off with her intelligent Jack on a walk until she was clear of the camp, when she touched him into an easy gallop.

Larch Cadmus stood looking into the gloom where she had vanished, almost before he comprehended her intention.

"Well, she's a puzzle!" he exclaimed to his two companions, who came forward; "I don't know what to make of her. What do you suppose she meant by that, boys?"

"It's easy enough to see," replied one of them, with a laugh; "she's gone off after help."

"Do you think so?" asked the startled Cadmus; "where can she get it?"

"She may bring back their hands."

"There are only two of them," said Larch, much relieved, "and they won't amount to anything in the rumpus. You don't imagine that she knows of any larger force anywhere in the neighbourhood?"

"She can't know of any, for there ain't any," was the clincher of the rustler; "or, if there is, she can't get it here in time to do Asbury and the rest any good."

Cadmus was relieved by the words of his friend. Enough misgivings, however, remained to make him say:

"There are so many moving about that her departure don't seem to be noticed; I'll take it as a favour if you don't mention it to any one, for now that she is gone I am sure I never should have allowed it."

The couple gave the promise, though their belief was that nothing serious would follow.

Leaving the two to keep watch at the stables, Cadmus sauntered to where Inman was seated near the camp-fire, smoking a pipe. A little inquiry disclosed that neither the leader nor any of his companions had noticed the departure of the young lady.

It was some time after this that Duke Vesey brought the report of Mrs.

Whitney's illness as an explanation of her son's delay in returning to the camp of the rustlers.

Exasperated, and suspecting a pretense, Inman consented to a brief postponement of the attack.

The next startling occurrence was the capture of Monteith Sterry while trying to steal through the lines. As we have shown, he was identified the instant he was brought into the reflection of the firelight, and such precautions were taken that escape by him was out of the question.

When their impatience could stand it no longer, Vesey was sent to Capt. Asbury with the message which he delivered. Instead of his returning with a reply, Fred Whitney came back, bringing the announcement that Vesey had entered the house without claiming the protection of a truce, and after telling what he was directed to tell about Monteith Sterry, Capt. Asbury had directed Whitney to notify Capt. Inman that he would retain Vesey as a hostage, guaranteeing that whatever harm was visited upon Sterry should descend upon the head of Vesey.

This message, as may be supposed, caused consternation for some minutes in the camp of the rustlers. The feeling was quickly succeeded by exasperation. Had Inman and Cadmus been given the opportunity, no doubt they could have made a good argument to prove that, inasmuch as Vesey had pa.s.sed back and forth several times after his first announcement of a flag of truce, and its acceptance by the besieged cowmen, it was not required by the law of nations that he should proclaim the fact while continuing to act as messenger between the hostiles.

On the other hand, the truth remained that he had entered the house of the rancher with weapons in his hands and without any claim of immunity from harm.

The question was such a nice one, capable of so many finely-drawn theories, that it is useless to discuss it here. Whatever decision we might reach, we could not feel a.s.sured we were right.

The hard fact confronted the rustlers that one of their princ.i.p.al men was in the power of the cowmen and was held as a hostage for the safety of the detested Monteith Sterry, who had been warned that he would be shot on sight by any rustler who gained the chance.

The unexpected phase of the situation caused a long and angry discussion between Capt. Ira Inman and his leaders, to which, as may be supposed, Fred Whitney and Monteith Sterry paid close attention.

CHAPTER x.x.xV.

CONCLUSION.

"Now, Jack, do your best, for everything depends on you."

Jennie Whitney looked around in the darkness and saw the glimmer of the rustlers' camp-fire, fully two hundred yards to the rear, with the shadowy figures moving to and fro.

"They may change their minds," she added, recalling the words of Larch Cadmus, "and decide to bring me back. Let them do it if they can!"

The intelligent pony acted as if he understood what was expected of him. With a light whinny at the pleasure he felt because of the opportunity of stretching out his beautiful limbs he broke into a swift canter, heading straight for the point where his rider believed the friendly camp was to be found.

She held the reins loose, knowing the danger of attempting to guide him where it was impossible to keep the points of the compa.s.s in mind.

The way was smooth and even, although there is always danger in going at such speed in the night. She deemed the stake warranted it, however, and did not check the rapid pace.

Night on every hand and not a shining star overhead. If she could find the party of stockmen in time, so as to bring them back to her home, their strength would overawe the rustlers, and the whole difficulty could be arranged without the conflict which she looked upon with unspeakable dread.

"It will save him, too," she added, hesitating to p.r.o.nounce the name that was in her heart, which would have throbbed more painfully had she known that in a brief while he would be helpless in the power of the men eager for his life. "I am glad he did not venture out of the house, when his friend could have done him no good. What will he think of me on learning what I have done? He will say that I am rash and foolish, and perhaps I am; will he suspect that it was to save him that I undertook this errand, which, after all, is attended with no risk to me worth mentioning?"

These were pleasant musings, but the task before her was too serious and made too close demands on her mental and physical energies for her to indulge in them. The delightful reverie could be deferred to a more convenient season.

Jennie Whitney had lived long enough in the West to understand that in times like the present it is safer to depend on the instinct of one's heart than upon one's reason. It seemed now and then that Jack was following the wrong direction, but she was wise in not interfering.

The gloom was so deep that she could see barely a few paces beyond the pointed ears in front, but when the ground showed an abrupt rise she recalled the location and knew he had followed the exact course she desired.