The Boy Land Boomer Part 15

The scout was bound tightly with a lariat which started from his feet and was wound and crossed up to his very neck, making body, legs and arms as stiff as those of an Egyptian mummy. He lay on the cave flooring not a dozen feet from the fire, which Yellow Elk was in the act of replenishing.

As he opened his eyes one of the other Indians, Spotted Nose by name, stopped in front of him. The scout instantly closed his eyes again, but it was too late.

"You all right," cried Spotted Nose, and gave him a sharp kick in the side.

"Well I won't be if you keep on kicking me," replied the boomer, as cheerfully as he could, although it must be admitted he was much disturbed. He glanced around and was relieved to see that Nellie was nowhere in sight.

Yellow Elk now came up and also kicked the prostrate scout.

"You heap dirty dog!" he exclaimed, his face full of bitter hatred. "You shoot me--you die for dat."

"I suppose I will--if you have the saying of that, Yellow Elk. But perhaps you won't dare to kill me."

"Why not Indian dare? Indian dare anything," growled Yellow Elk.

"My friends are not far off--they will soon come here, and if you harm me it will go hard with you."

At this all of the Indians laughed.

"No white man around here--we on guard all time," said Spotted Nose.

"On guard, eh? And yet you didn't see me come in, Dirty Nose?"

"Spotted Nose did see p.a.w.nee Brown," was the answer; but this was a falsehood. An Indian hates to admit that he has been in any manner outwitted by a white man.

"You tell a good story, Dirty Nose." p.a.w.nee Brown turned to Yellow Elk.

"Yellow, how did you run across that girl?"

"Yellow Elk no tell his secrets," came the answer. "p.a.w.nee Brown fool to ask. p.a.w.nee Brown think him heap sly, like fox, but him sly only like cow!" This produced another laugh, for the Indians from the Indian Territory are not as stolid as were their forefathers, and thoroughly enjoy their own rude manner of joking.

Presently Yellow Elk turned to his companions and spoke to them in an undertone. A moment later he sped away, but whether in pursuit of Nellie Winthrop or not, p.a.w.nee Brown could not tell.

The Indian chief was gone fully an hour, and came back looking unusually grave.

p.a.w.nee Brown had tried in vain to get Spotted Nose and the other Indian to talk--to tell him why they had left the reservation. Not one would speak further than to tell him to keep quiet.

On returning, Yellow Elk at once set to work to rig up an upright pole from the floor to the ceiling of the cave, using a heavy tree branch for the purpose. The upright was placed close to where the smoke from the fire found a vent through several large cracks in the ceiling, and the boomer watched these proceedings with much alarm.

The Indians were erecting a fire-stake, such as they had used in the wild west when some victim was to be roasted alive!

"Heavens! can that be meant for me?" was the question he asked himself.

The stake planted and fastened firmly, Yellow Elk heaped some fresh, dry brush around its bottom and then came up to p.a.w.nee Brown.

"p.a.w.nee Brown see the fire-stake?" he asked, his savage eyes gleaming like two stars.

"I do, Yellow. Who is it for?"

"Why does p.a.w.nee Brown ask? Does he not deserve death?"

"I suppose I do--according to your notion."

"p.a.w.nee Brown shall burn--he shall burn slowly," went on Yellow Elk, meaning that he would make the great scout's torture last as long as possible.

"Your training on the reservation hasn't civilized you much, Yellow, if that's the way you feel about it."

"I hate white man--all of them," grumbled the Indian chief. "They take all my land away and put me in a little yard to live. I would kill all white man if could," and he grated his teeth.

A moment later Yellow Elk nodded to the other Indians and all leaped forward and bound p.a.w.nee Brown fast to the fire-stake. This done the redskins heaped the brush around the scout's feet.

"Now the dirty white dog can die!" hissed Yellow Elk, as he advanced with a torch. "He can pray, but the white man's Great Father cannot save him! He must burn until his bones are as charcoal!"

And so speaking Yellow Elk thrust the torch into the dry brush and set it on fire!

CHAPTER XIV.

d.i.c.k TO THE RESCUE.

"That man is going to shoot Jack Rasco!"

Such was the thought which rushed into d.i.c.k Arbuckle's mind as he heard the fatal words spoken in the woods near the river bank.

He could not see either of the men, but he felt tolerably certain in his mind that Rasco's a.s.sailant was Stillwater, the gambler, who had been run out of Arkansas City by p.a.w.nee Brown, Rasco, Clemmer and a dozen others.

"Would you kill me?" came in Rasco's voice. The boomer was concerned and was doing his best to gain time, in the hope that something would turn up to his advantage.

"Kill you?" sneered Stillwater. "Do you think I'm going to put up with the way I've been treated? Not much! I had a fine thing in Arkansas City--something worth a thousand a week to me, and you and your friends spoiled it all. I'm going to settle with you, and after that I shall hunt up p.a.w.nee Brown and the rest and settle with them, also."

"You'll have your hands full a-settlin' with p.a.w.nee."

"Bah! I am not afraid of him. He had me foul over to the Golden Pick, but I'll be careful when next we meet. But I'll not waste time with you here, Rasco. I've got you alone and 'dead men tell no tales.'"

"Alone?" Jack Ras...o...b..gan to smile. "You're mistaken. Look behind you."

Stillwater started, but did not look back.

"That's an old dodge, Rasco, but you can't work it off on me. I have you alone and I'm going to end the business right here."

"Not yet!" cried a youthful voice behind Stillwater, and crash! down came a heavy stick, hitting the gambler squarely upon the head and sending him with a thud to the earth.

As Stillwater went down, Rasco leaped forward and came down upon him.

But this movement was useless. The rascal was more than three-quarters knocked out and lay for several minutes helpless.

"I owe you one fer that, d.i.c.k Arbuckle!" cried Rasco, gratefully. "Yer came in the nick o' time!" Now the peril was over the boomer dropped back into his own peculiar manner of speech.