Ted Strong in Montana Part 24

As they were looking they saw a young woman, dressed as cowgirl, and with long, blond hair hanging down her back, come out of one of the tents, and look over the scene.

Silver Face strode to her side, and then began a strange pantomime between the pair with her hands. This convinced Stella that the man with the silver mask was unable to talk.

"I don't see how we are going to get at those fellows," said Ted.

"They do seem to be pretty well fixed to defend themselves," said Ben, who was lying flat on the rocky edge of the canon wall, looking into the scene below.

"Oh, Ted," cried Stella, grasping the arm of the leader of the broncho boys. "Look there. It is Magpie, my pony. There isn't another like him in the world. We must get him back, Ted. Think of letting a dirty Indian outlaw ride and abuse the splendid fellow."

"All right, Stella," replied Ted. "Show us how to do it successfully, and we'll go down and tackle the whole mess."

"See, there's an Indian throwing his filthy blanket on Magpie's back. I can't stand that."

Stella put her rifle to her shoulder, and was about to pull the trigger when Ted's hand closed down over the lock of the weapon.

"Not on your life," he said. "This is not the time for anything like that. If we were to get them after us right now we'd last about as long as a s...o...b..ll on a hot stove. Wait a while."

While Stella said nothing she was angry clear through. It hurt her like a blow to have her pony ridden by another.

The Indian, having fastened his blanket on the pony's back to his satisfaction, sprang upon his back, and began to lash him with a quirt.

"Oh, the brute!" exclaimed Stella. "I hope Magpie throws and kills him for his cruelty."

Magpie wheeled and bucked under the unusual punishment, and the Indian continued to beat him.

"I can't stand it any longer," cried Stella, gnashing her pretty, small, white teeth.

This time she got her rifle to her shoulder, and, before she could be restrained, had fired a shot. Perhaps Ted knew that the provocation was great, for he did not interfere this time.

At any rate, the ball flew close enough to knock the hat from the Indian's head, and cause him to dismount and scurry to the shelter of the rock wall.

But it caused the greatest excitement in the camp.

The man with the silver mask rushed forward, rapidly scanning the cliff for whoever had fired the shot.

He did not have long to search, for the smoke hovering over the spot where Stella was lying on the top of the cliff was advertis.e.m.e.nt enough.

A man by his side handed him a rifle, which he sighted, then took down as a puff of smoke rose above him.

Then there followed the smash of a bullet on the rock, a foot below where Stella was lying.

"Pretty close work," said Ted. "That fellow is a corking good shot.

Look, he's coming to shoot again. Duck! I'll bet he gets the range this time."

Every head went out of sight. Then came the sharp report of the rifle, and the ball from it shattered the edge of the rock not far from Stella's head.

"That'll be about enough of that," said Ted, picking up his own Winchester. "We'll have to stop that fellow's fun, or he'll end by hurting some of us."

Ted poked the barrel of his Winchester over the edge of the rock, adjusted the sights, took a short aim, and fired.

Then he looked to see the result of it, and saw the man with the silver face drop his rifle, stagger to the side of the canon, and sink down.

"By jove! I got him," exclaimed Ted. "I believe that from here we can drive that whole bunch out of the valley and get back our cattle and horses, if we dodge back and shoot straight. We'll try it. Every fellow get ready to fire."

On seeing their leader fall, the men, both white and red, in the valley, ran hither and yon in a state of great excitement.

But when the boys began to fire systematically at them, kicking up the snow about them with every shot, it became a veritable panic.

Shouts of terror were heard, and, as the young woman raised the man with the silver mask to his feet and helped him walk to the tent, the others hastily saddled their ponies, and prepared to decamp.

All the while the boys were pumping Winchester b.a.l.l.s into them, and occasionally a horse dropped, or with a yell a man would grasp a leg or an arm and fall to the ground.

"We've got them going," shouted Ted. "Keep it up until we get them on the run."

The boys fired their rifles until they got hot, then waited for them to cool, and resumed firing.

It was like bedlam in the valley, and not one of the men attempted to retaliate by firing back. They were in a panic of fear.

As soon as one got his horse saddled he dashed away toward the head of the valley out of the way of those spiteful bullets which sang about them like enraged hornets.

Not one of them stopped to burden himself with his baggage, nor did they pay any attention to the stolen cattle.

They were in too much of a hurry to get away safely themselves.

The Indians left their tepees standing, and ran for their lives.

Soon the valley was clear of men. All that remained in sight were the bunch of cattle, a small band of ponies in a rope corral, and the tepees and tents.

"I guess we're safe to go down now, and take possession of our own,"

said Ted.

"Don't forget that Silver Face and the young woman are in that tent,"

said Stella warningly. "Look out for treachery."

Without further delay the boys and Stella climbed down the mountain to where their horses were, and, mounting, rode fearlessly into the valley.

As they approached the tents the flap of one of them was pushed back and the young woman came out.

Her hand was raised for silence, and the tears were coursing down her cheeks.

"Hush!" she said. "He is dead."

"Who is dead?" asked Ted, with the greatest respect.

"Silver Face," was the answer.

"Who was he?" asked Ted.

"I don't know. I found him lying in the mountains almost dead from an accident a few months ago, and nursed him back to life, but he never spoke again, and he has never been able to let me know who he was."