George at the Fort Part 9

"Well, he will have to catch me before he hangs me. Go and tell the cook that I am getting tired of waiting for breakfast."

"I won't; I won't never do nothin' for you no more, nor say another word to you, nuther."

"I am sorry you feel so bad about it," said George as he proceeded to pack his clothes away in a canvas bag he had provided for that purpose; "but the thing is done, and it can't be undone."

"I don't care if the Greasers come over here next full moon an' steal every huf an' horn you've got," exclaimed the angry herdsman.

"I do," replied George; "I don't want them to do anything of the kind. I don't want them to steal another steer from me or anybody else, and that is the very reason I became a scout. Our troops are going to teach those fellows to stay on their own side of the river, and I am going to help them do it."

"There's enough without you," growled Zeke.

"Suppose that everybody thought so; where would we get the men to fight our battles?--What in the world is that?"

For just then there was a terrific uproar on the porch. Above the stamping of heavy boots and hoa.r.s.e but subdued e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns of rage, such as men sometimes utter when they are engaged in a fierce struggle, arose the voice of one who spoke in pleading accents, but whose words suddenly ceased with a kind of gasping sound, as if his throat had been seized by a strong hand. Zeke sat up on his chair and looked at George, whose face expressed the utmost bewilderment. Before either of them could speak the door was thrown open with great violence, and a dishevelled and half-strangled man, dressed in a dingy blue jacket and a pair of dirty leather trousers, was pitched into the room, with such force that when he brought up against Zeke that worthy herdsman was knocked out of his chair, and the two came to the floor together.

"What do you mean by such work as this?" demanded George, looking first at the prostrate man and then toward the door, where stood Jake and Bob with their hands clenched and their faces flushed with anger.

"Jest take a good squint at that feller's figger-head an' answer the question for yourself, Mr. George," answered Jake, shaking his fist at the man who had been so unceremoniously introduced into the room.--"Give it to him good an' strong, Zeke!--Well! I'll--be--blessed!--Won't you, Bob?"

This exclamation was called forth by an action on the part of George Ackerman that astonished Jake and Bob beyond measure. Zeke had instantly recognized the man who had so unexpectedly prostrated him, and, seizing him by the back of the neck in his iron grasp, began shaking him as a dog would shake a rat. George also recognized the man after he had taken a second look at him, and springing forward he seized Zeke's arm and tore his grasp loose. Then he a.s.sisted the man to his feet, and taking his hand in his own shook it cordially.

"Well, I _will_ be blessed!" repeated Jake, who stood looking the very picture of astonishment.--"Won't you, Bob?"

"I should say I would," replied the latter, who was equally amazed.

"That's something _I_ never expected to see--an Ackerman shaking hands with a cattle-thief!"

"Springer," exclaimed George, "I am glad to see you again; and without your crutches, too! I hope you have entirely recovered."

Yes, the man who had made his entrance into George's room in so unusual a manner was Springer, whom we have often spoken of as the wounded cattle-thief. He had, as we know, once been in the employ of George's father; but proving to be utterly unfit for the position he held, Mr.

Ackerman had discharged him, and Springer had sought revenge by making an unsuccessful effort to burn the ranche. Of course he could not stay in Texas after that, so he fled across the river and joined his fortunes with the Contra-Guerrillas, a regiment of desperadoes in the employ of the ill-starred Maximilian. He belonged, with other renegade Americans, to Fletcher's band, who were the princ.i.p.al foragers for Maximilian's army; but instead of robbing the adherents of Juarez, who probably had no stock worth stealing, they made numerous raids across the river and ran off the cattle belonging to the Texans. Springer was one of the band who stampeded George's herd at Catfish Falls, and during the short skirmish that followed Zeke sent a bullet through each of his legs, wounding him severely. He managed to keep up with the band a few miles, but the rapid motion was too much for him, and he was finally abandoned by his companions, who hurried the captured cattle toward the river, leaving Springer to look out for himself.

The pain occasioned by the wounds that had been inflicted upon him by Zeke's Winchester was so intense that the raider was forced to travel very slowly. Arriving on the banks of a little stream that ran across the trail he was pursuing, he rolled out of his saddle to quench his thirst, which had became almost unbearable; but his bridle slipping from his hand, his horse wandered away, and, as Springer was not able to walk, he could not catch him again. He sank helplessly down beside a tree, where he was presently discovered by George Ackerman, who was making his way on foot toward Mr. Gilbert's ranche. The boy ministered to his wants by bringing him water in his hat and sharing with him his slender stock of provisions, and Springer showed his grat.i.tude by warning George of a plot which his uncle John and cousin Ned had laid against him. He went into all the details, but George refused to believe a word of it until subsequent events, which we have already described, proved to his entire satisfaction that the thief had told him nothing but the truth.

After spending half an hour in the man's company, George caught his horse, a.s.sisted him into the saddle, and Springer succeeded in crossing into Mexico without being discovered by any of the settlers whom Zeke had gathered together to recapture George's herd. He made his way to Don Miguel's ranche, and there our hero found him when he was captured by Fletcher's men. The raider seemed to be sorry for his misdeeds, and George had a.s.sured him that if he ever made up his mind to turn over a new leaf and lead a different sort of life, he would a.s.sist him by every means in his power.

"Springer," said George, drawing up an easy-chair for the use of his guest, "what brought you over on this side of the river? Have you abandoned Fletcher for good?"

The cattle-thief gasped and coughed three or four times, as if he were trying to clear his throat of something that stuck there and choked his utterance, and finally nodded his head in reply.

"Don't pay no attention to him, Mr. George!" exclaimed Bob. "He don't know nothin' but stealin' an' lyin', that feller don't, an' I wouldn't trust him as far as I could sling a yearlin'."

"If it wasn't for sich fellers as him you could stay to hum quiet an'

peaceable like, an' not have to go off fur a soldier," added Jake.

"When I was a prisoner among the Greasers he gave me advice that a.s.sisted me in making my escape, and why should I not treat him kindly?"

demanded George, turning indignantly upon the speakers. "No visitor at the Ackerman ranche was ever treated so shamefully before, and I tell you I don't want the thing repeated."

"Why, Mr. George," stammered Jake, "he rid up to the porch an' said he wanted to speak to you, an' so we brung him in--me an' Bob did."

"Go and tell the cook to put another plate on the table and to hurry up breakfast," said George with an air of disgust.

"Mr. George," said Zeke solemnly, "do you mean by that that you're goin'

to break bread with this--this varmint?"

"I mean that Springer is going to eat a good breakfast with me, if that is what you want to know," replied George.

"Then, Bob, you needn't say nothin' about that there other plate,"

continued the herdsman, picking up his hat and moving toward the door.

"Springer can have the one I was goin' to use."

"Zeke, sit down and behave yourself," exclaimed George.

"No, I won't. I ain't agoin' to eat salt with a man what tried to burn this ranche over your dead father's head, an' you a little babby at the time, without no power to help yourself. I don't know what this family is comin' to, anyhow."

"No more do I," chimed in Bob, while he and Jake looked daggers at their employer's new guest. "Things ain't as they used to be in the good ole days. I won't wait on no table that he sets at."

As if moved by a common impulse, the three men left the room, Zeke closing the door behind him with no gentle hand. The cattle-thief seemed to be greatly relieved to see them go, but their extraordinary conduct made him very uneasy, and he looked toward George to see what the latter thought about it.

"Never mind them," said the boy encouragingly. "They were employed on this ranche before I was born, and have finally come to think that they have more rights here than I have. Now, what did you want to see me for?

How can I help you? If I were going to stay at home, so that I could stand between you and the settlers, I would give you a herdsman's berth, if that is what you want; but I am going to Fort Lamoine as soon as I have packed my things and disposed of my breakfast, and I may not be back for a year. I am a United States scout."

"I wondered what you were doin' with them soldier-clothes on; an' that explains it," said Springer, speaking with difficulty. "I don't reckon you can help me none jest now, but mebbe I can help you by puttin' you on your guard agin' Fletcher."

"Is he after me again?" cried George. "I was in hope I had seen and heard the last of him."

"Them kind of fellers is always turnin' up when they isn't wanted,"

replied Springer. "He's come back to his ole hole at that there ranche, bringin' a good many of his ole men with him, an' some new ones that would be wusser than he is, only that ain't possible. Amongst them all, they have laid a plan to visit you next full moon."

"Let them come," said George, snapping his fingers in the air; "they'll not get me, or any stock either."

"He wants you more'n he wants stock," continued Springer. "That is, he wants you first. Your uncle John put the very mischief into that there feller's head, an' he's goin' to make a pris'ner of you, like he did afore. He knows that you are master here now--that you've got more money an' cattle than you know what to do with; an' he thinks you would rather give 'em all up than lose your liberty."

"No doubt I would," answered George, "but before he can make any demands upon me he must catch me. That he will never do, for the next time--"

He was about to say that the next time he saw Don Miguel's ranche he would be so strongly backed up that he would stand in no fear of the boss cattle-thief and his band. But he didn't say it, for he did not know how far it would be safe to trust his friend Springer. He need not have been so particular on this point, however, for the cattle-thief knew as much about the contemplated movements of General Ord's forces as George did himself. The Mexican authorities had been notified that if the raids from their side of the river were not stopped our troops would take the matter in hand and punish the thieves wherever they could be found; and those same authorities had been accommodating enough to warn Fletcher, and so put him on his guard.

"Where have you been since I last saw you?" inquired George, "and what has become of my horse? What did the 'boss' say when he found I had slipped through his fingers? I told you I shouldn't stay there and allow myself to be robbed. Did he follow me?"

"No, he didn't foller you, 'cause n.o.body knowed till mornin' come that you had skipped out," answered Springer. "When Fletcher went to call you to breakfast, an' you wasn't there, he thought you was a-loafin'

around somewheres about the ranche; but when somebody told him that the hoss with the four white feet, that follered us acrost the river on the night we tried to get the strong-box out of this house, was gone, he knowed in a minute what was up, an' he was about the maddest man you ever see. But he couldn't take time to hunt you up, an' all he could do was to swear that he'd hold fast to you the next time he got his hands on to you."

"He'll never get his hands on me again," said George confidently.

"I hope he won't, but if he does it'll be worse for you. That there black hoss of your'n is dead," continued Springer; "he was shot at Queretaro. You see, when we got down to the place where the fightin' was goin' on, we knowed in a minute that Max couldn't hold out much longer, so we started one dark night to cross over to Juarez. His soldiers seen us comin', an', thinkin' that we were up to some trick or another, they turned loose on us an' cut us up fearful."

"It served you just right," said George, with honest indignation. "You had no business to go in with Maximilian in the first place, but having joined him you ought to have stood by him to the last."

"We _did_ stand by him after that, 'cause we had to," answered Springer.