The Broncho Rider Boys on the Wyoming Trail Part 22

ADRIAN MAKES A STAND.

As the hay flamed up like magic there arose a great commotion. Men could be heard shouting to one another. Fortunately Mr. Comstock was equal to the occasion. He hurried this way and that, calling at the top of his voice; and for a small man he certainly had astonishingly loud vocal attainments.

"Stay where you are, every man I stationed by the corral! This is a trick to get you away, so they can force a gap, and let the stock out!

Shoot every sneaking wolf you see trying to injure the corral! Leave the rest to me! Adrian, would you care to come with me, and see if we can get a crack at the cowardly coyote who put a match to my haystack yonder?"

"I'd like nothing better, Uncle!" cried the boy, aroused by all these happenings, and with his mind made up that, given a chance, he, would surely do some sort of bodily injury to the treacherous hound; for of all things the boy detested, a fellow who could turn on the hand that fed him and strike his benefactor in the back, was the worst.

"Donald, you stick it out here, and perhaps you'll get your chance sooner than we may!" called the ex-manager over his shoulder, as he ran hastily away, heading so as to switch around to the other side of the burning hay; which Adrian understood to mean that he antic.i.p.ated discovering the firemaker starting operations in connection with one of the other high stacks.

Already the flames were leaping wildly upward, and beginning to roar. At least they served as a huge torch, by means of which the defenders of the corrals would be able to cover quite a fair stretch of territory with their eyes, and detect the approach of any suspicious body of raiders, upon whom they could open fire without compunction, once they were sure it could not be the sheriff's posse.

As he ran Adrian was on the lookout for any kind of slinking figure that might be discovered near the haystacks, perhaps with a flaming torch in hand; though a simple match was really all that would be needed to start another of those conflagrations, so dry was the hay.

If he had the good luck to set eyes on such an object he believed that nothing would hold him back from sending a bullet at the incendiary; for by now the boy had become indignant at the way these Walkers were trying to rule or ruin the entire country, and would welcome a chance to let one of the brood know that he did not mean to stand their ways of doing things.

"You head toward that one on the right!" said Mr. Comstock, hastily, as the two of them paused, the better to look around, and decide on what had better be done in order to stop this work of wanton destruction.

This of course meant that they should separate; and turning sharply aside Adrian bent low, and ran toward the stack to which he had been directed.

As he did so he heard the positive report of a pistol, and actually felt the wind caused by the pa.s.sage of a bullet, so close did it come to his left arm. That told him there was an enemy hiding behind the haystack to which he had been sent by his uncle; and seeing him coming with such evident hostile intent, the fellow had fired. Perhaps he had missed hitting the crouching boy because Adrian kept dodging to the right and to the left as he had seen an old Indian-fighter do once upon a time, when a crazy puncher had shot a comrade, and was brought to bay over his dead pony.

Then again, it might be that the man did not really want to do the boy serious injury, and was only trying to frighten him off. It was as much as a warning that the unseen enemy had his range, and the next shot would be more exacting.

Adrian did not stand there irresolute. He knew when to act, and how to go about it. The first thing he did when that shot sounded, and he knew he had been the target at which the missile had been sent, was to roll over upon the ground as though he had been hit.

Almost as soon as he landed he was pushing himself in shape so as to look over the slight k.n.o.b of ground just in front of where he lay, and watch the spot from which that little puff of smoke had leaped. It was alongside the haystack to which he had been sent by Uncle Fred; and the chances seemed to be that the fellow who fired must be the one whose hand had already put a match to the blazing heap.

Thus looking, Adrian believed he saw the slightest of movements amidst the hay. This seemed to tell him that the other must be peering out again, to see whether the coast were clear, so that he could either beat a hasty retreat, or else continue his work of destroying the feed, by using which the cattle might be kept shut up for days at a time in the enclosures.

Determined to teach him a lesson the boy pulled the trigger of his rifle, having taken a quick snap judgment on the spot where he believed the other to be hidden.

His expectations were more than realized, for instantly there was a whoop, and from behind the stack a whirling figure came in sight. It was one of the "suspects" and from the way he kept clawing at his left arm the boy guessed that his lead had found its billet all right.

He gained his feet, and with rifle ready for more work if necessary, started to hasten toward where the fellow was dancing about, shrieking with the pain of his wound, and all else forgotten.

About the same time Mr. Comstock came running up.

"Got him, did you, Adrian?" he called out, in more or less exultation; for he had been sorely badgered of late by these fellows who had the backing of Mrs. Fred, and really snapped their fingers at his authority.

"Help! Mr. Comstock, get a tourniquet on, and stop this bleeding or I'm a goner! Oh! quick, sir! Don't let me go under in this way like a dog! I was a fool to turn against you just because she blarneyed me. Save me first, and punish me afterwards!" was what the fellow called out, the pain of his wound causing him to show actual terror, and bringing out the yellow streak in his makeup.

The stockman, seeing that the second stack had not as yet been fired, did take hold, and with a few dextrous twists of a stout handkerchief put a temporary stop to the loss of blood.

"You deserve all you've got, and more too, Burke," he said sternly; "but I'm going to give you one more chance after all this row is done with.

Perhaps this may be a lesson that'll be the turning point of your life, because you used to have some good points about you. Adrian, will you stay here, keeping out of sight all that's possible, and aiming to hit every time you see any one creeping around this field?"

"What will you be doing, Uncle Fred?"

"First of all," called back Mr. Comstock, "I'll take this young fool to the bunk house, fix his arm, and then leave him under charge of Charley Moo. It reduces the snakes to three; and my next job will be to take hold of the rest of the bunch, unless they skip out on seeing what's happened to Burke here."

Adrian was satisfied with the way things seemed to be progressing. What if one stack of the precious hay had gone up in smoke, there was more than enough left for their purposes; and present necessities ruled the hour just then.

He patrolled his post, keeping out of sight as much as possible. All the while he was listening to catch any strange sounds coming from the vicinity of the corrals or the bunk house. He wondered how Mr. Comstock would come out when he started to make prisoners of the other three treacherous ones; and whether in so doing he might not come in contact with his wife, who would be apt to side with the men, and try to overthrow the authority of the ex-manager.

But Adrian believed Uncle Fred had determined to make one great fight for his manliness, and would refuse to do what his strong-minded wife said, even though she threatened him with the anger of her whole tribe of relations, those lawless Walkers of whom the entire country was ringing.

Still, there did not seem to be anything unusual happening; at least Adrian, holding out there in defense of the hay, failed to hear any strange racket, such as would very likely have accompanied a trial of strength between the two parties.

He suspected that possibly the other three fellows had slunk away, fearing under the new conditions that had arisen, the mistress would be unable to defend them, should matters come to a crisis.

The boy did not delude himself with the thought that the worst must be over. Up to now they had only had to deal with the sympathizers of the Walkers, those snakes in the gra.s.s who had remained in the employ of Mr.

Comstock because his wife refused to countenance their discharge, and who were all the while taking secret pay from Hatch Walker, ready at any moment to betray their trust.

Between this hour and dawn there was a strong likelihood that the main body of rustlers meant to get busy, and spring all manner of surprises upon those who had the defense of Bar-S Ranch in charge.

It might seem strange that the Walkers would thus openly attack a ranch, when by such action they ran the risk of being cla.s.sed as genuine outlaws, if any one could be found bold enough to complain about them to the proper authorities.

The truth of the matter was, as Adrian suspected, that in this coming of the owner of Bar-S Ranch upon the scene, these men could see an entering wedge calculated to weaken the power of Hatch's sister, and possibly start the avalanche rolling that was fated to swamp them eventually.

The energetic and fearless way in which the three boys had taken hold, followed the stampeded cattle, watched until they caught the rustlers off their guard, and then not only made them prisoners, but actually drove the stolen herd all the way home-this must have made a deep impression on Hatch Walker. He knew that extraordinary measures must be taken to stem this tide in the beginning; or else it was bound to gather such irresistible headway that he and his followers would be swept out of sight.

By degrees Adrian concluded that the hay was no longer in such danger that he need remain there constantly to guard it. He made up his mind to have another puncher sent out to that post, preferring on his own account to be nearer the cattle, and consequently the point of most danger.

Accordingly he made his way toward the corrals, being careful to give the call that had been arranged between the defenders, so that they might not shoot one another by mistake.

Donald was glad to have him back.

"I heard about what you did," he said, as he squeezed his chum's hand.

"Uncle Fred brought that wounded chap past here; and he said you did it for him."

"But what about the other three?" demanded Adrian; "Uncle Fred told me he wanted to get back here so as to make prisoners of the rest of the batch."

"Well, they seem to have disappeared," replied Donald; "n.o.body knows whether they scented trouble, and slipped away; or if Mrs. Comstock has hidden them in the ranch house, meaning to turn a sly trick later on; but let's hope the sheriff'll get along here before the worst happens."

CHAPTER XXVI.

A BOLD PROPOSAL.

"Suppose we take a tally, and see just about how the game stands right now," suggested Donald, presently, after they had stood there for a bit listening to the various sounds of the night that was in all probability bound to mark the turning point of Bar-S Ranch's fortunes, either up or down.

The cattle were uneasy in the corrals. Plainly they objected to this summary way of taking them from the pasture-land and shutting them up between walls, even if the confines did consist for the most part of a fence-like structure.

They bellowed more or less, and roamed around, as though in hopes of finding a weak spot where they might force an exit.