Ruth Fielding at Silver Ranch Part 23

Even when the revolver popped, Freckles did not move. The wolf sprang to one side, snarling with rage and pain. Ruth saw a streak of crimson along his high shoulder. The bullet had just nicked him. The beast snapped at the wound and whirled around and around in the dust, snarling and clashing his teeth.

But when the girl tried to urge Freckles in closer, the wolf suddenly took the aggressive. He sprang out into the trail and in two leaps was beside the whirling pony. Freckles knew better than to let the beast get near enough to spring for his throat. But the pony's gyrations almost unseated his rider.

Ruth fired a second shot; but the bullet went wild. She could not take proper aim with the pony dancing so; and she had to seize the lines again. She thrust the pistol into the saddle holster and grabbed the pommel of the saddle itself to aid her balance. Freckles pitched dreadfully, and struck out, seemingly with all four feet at once, to keep off the wolf. Perhaps it was as well that he did so, for the beast was maddened by the smart of the wound, and sought to tear the girl from her saddle.

As Ruth allowed the pony to run off from the shack for several rods, the wolf went growling back to the door. He was a persistent fellow and it did seem as though he was determined to get at the sick man in spite of all Ruth could do.

But the girl, frightened as she was, had no intention of remaining by to see such a monstrous thing happen. She controlled Freckles again, and rode him hard, using the spurs, straight at the door of the shack. The wolf whirled and met them with open jaws, the saliva running from the sides of his mouth. His foreleg was now dyed crimson.

Freckles, squealing with anger, jumped to reach the wolf. He had been taught to ride down coyotes, and he tried the same tactics on this fellow. The wolf rolled over, snapping and snarling, and easily escaped the pony's hard hoofs. But Ruth urged the pony on and the wolf was forced to run.

She tried her best to run him down. They tore through the main street of what had been Tintacker Camp, and out upon the open ridge. The wolf, his tail tucked between his legs, scurried over the ground, keeping just ahead, but circling around so as to get back to the abandoned town. He would not be driven from the vicinity.

"I must try again to shoot him," exclaimed the girl, much worried. "If I ride back he will follow me. If I hobble Freckles again, he may attack the pony and Freckles could not defend himself so well if he were hobbled. And if I turn the pony loose the wolf may run him off entirely!"

She drew Jib's pistol once more and tried to get a good shot at the wolf. But while she did this she could not keep so sharp an eye on the course the pony took and suddenly Freckles sunk one forefoot in a hole.

He plunged forward, and Ruth came very near taking a dive over his head.

She saved herself by seizing the pommel with both hands; but in so doing she lost the gun. Freckles leaped up, frightened and snorting, and the next moment the wolf had made a sharp turn and was almost under the pony's feet!

The wolf let out an unmistakable yelp of pain and limped off, howling.

Freckles kept on in pursuit and the revolver was soon far behind. The beast she pursued was now in a bad way; but the girl dared not ride back to search for her lost weapon. She did not propose that the wolf-after such a fight-should escape. Ruth was bent upon his destruction.

The wolf, however, dodged and doubled, so that the pony could not trample it, even had he wished to come to such close quarters. The clashing teeth of the savage animal warned Freckles to keep his distance, however; and it was plain to Ruth that she must dismount to finish the beast. If only she had some weapon--

What was that heap on the prairie ahead? Bones! hundreds of them! Some accident had befallen a bunch of cattle here in the past and their picked skeletons had been flung into a heap. The wolf ran for refuge behind this pile and Ruth immediately urged Freckles toward the spot.

She leaped from the saddle, tossing the bridle reins over his head upon the ground and ran to seize one of the bigger bones. It was the leg bone of a big steer and it made a promising club.

But even as she seized upon this primitive weapon the wolf made a final stand. He appeared around the far side of the pile. He saw that the girl was afoot, and with a snarl he sprang upon her.

Ruth uttered an involuntary shriek, and ran back. But she could not reach Freckles. The wolf's hot breath steamed against her neck as she ran. He had missed her by a hair!

The girl whirled and faced him, the club poised in both her hands, determined to give battle. Her situation was perilous in the extreme.

Afoot as she was, the beast had the advantage, and he knew this as well as she did. He did not hurry, but approached his victim with caution-fangs bared, jaws extended, his wounds for the moment forgotten.

CHAPTER XXII-SERVICE COURAGEOUS

There was no escape from the wolf's attack, even had Ruth desired to evade the encounter. The beast's flaming eyes showed his savage intention only too plainly. To turn and run at this juncture would have meant death for the brave girl. She stood at bay, the heavy bone poised to strike, and let the creature approach.

He leaped, and with all her strength-and that was not slight-she struck him. The wolf was knocked sideways to the ground. She followed up the attack with a second and a third blow before he could recover his footing.

The wound in his shoulder had bled a good deal, and Freckles' hard hoofs had crippled one leg. He could not jump about with agility, and although he was no coward, he was slow in returning to the charge.

When he did, Ruth struck again, and with good effect. Again and again she beat him off. He once caught her skirt and tore it from the waist-binding; but she eluded his powerful claws and struck him down again. Then, falling upon him unmercifully, she beat his head into the hard ground until he was all torn and bleeding and could not see to scramble at her.

It was an awful experience for the girl; but she conquered her antagonist before her strength was spent. When he lay, twitching his limbs in the final throes, she staggered back to where her pony stood and there, leaning upon his neck, sobbed and shook for several minutes, while Freckles put his soft nose into her palm and nuzzled her comfortably.

"Oh, oh, Freckles! what a terrible thing!" she sobbed. "He's dead! he's dead!"

She could say nothing more, nor could she recover her self-possession for some time. Then she climbed into the saddle and turned the pony's head toward the deserted huts without once looking back at the blood-bedabbled body and the gory club.

At the camp, however, she was once more her own mistress. The fact that she must attend the sick man bolstered up her courage. She hobbled Freckles again and recovered the bucket of water. John c.o.x (if that was his name) raged in his fever and clutched at his precious coat, and was not quiet again until she had cooled his head and hands with the fresh water.

After that he fell into a light sleep and Ruth went about the cabin, trying to set the poor furniture to rights and removing the debris that had collected in the corners. Every few moments she was at the door, looking out for either enemy or friend. But no other creature confronted her until the sound of pony hoofs delighted her ear and Tom Cameron and Jane Ann, with two of the cowboys from the Rolling River outfit, dashed up to the shack.

"Ruth! Ruth!" cried the ranchman's niece, leaping off of her pony. "Come out of that place at once! Do as I tell you--"

"Don't come here, dear-don't touch me," returned her friend, firmly. "I know what I am about. I mean to stay and nurse this man. I do not believe there is so much danger as Jib says--"

"Uncle Bill will have his hide!" cried Jane Ann, indignantly. "You wait and see."

"It is not his fault. I came in here when he could not stop me. And I mean to remain. But there is no use in anybody else being exposed to contagion-if there is any contagion in the disease."

"Why, it's as bad as small-pox, Ruth!" cried Jane Ann.

"I am here," returned Ruth, quietly. "Have you brought us food? And is that spirits in the bottle Mr. Darcy has?"

"Yes, Miss," said the cowboy.

"Set it down on that stone-and the other things. I'll come and get it. A few drops of the liquor in the water may help the man a little."

"But, dear Ruth," interposed Tom, gravely, "he is nothing to you. Don't run such risks. If the man must be nursed _I'll_ try my hand--"

"Indeed you shall not!"

"It's a job for a man, Miss," said Darcy, grimly. "You mount your pony and go home with the others. I'll stay."

"If any harm is done, it's done already," declared the girl, earnestly.

"One of you can stay outside and help me-guard me, if you please.

There's been an awful old wolf about--"

"A wolf!" gasped Tom.

"But I killed him." She told them how and where. "And I lost Jib's gun.

He'll be furious."

"He'll lose more than his little old Colts," growled the second cowboy.

"It was not Jib's fault," declared the girl. "I could not so easily find my way back to the river as he. I had to stay while he went for help.

Has word been sent on to the ranch?"

"Everything will be done that can be done for the fellow, of course,"

Jane Ann declared. "Uncle Bill will likely come over himself. Then there _will_ be ructions, young lady."