The Great Cattle Trail Part 18

There had been hot work in the bush, for when the cattlemen charged the Comanches, they did so with all the vigor of their nature. These Indians were among the most persistent thieves in Texas, and, as the reader knows, the man who attempts to run off another's cattle or horses commits a more flagrant crime in that section of our Union than he does when he seeks the owners' lives.

Avon bore to the left, leaving the princ.i.p.al theatre of the scrimmage, and had not reached the border of the mesquite when he almost stumbled over a fine horse that lay on its side, without a particle of life.

"I wonder whether that is Thunderbolt," he said, with a feeling of dread, as he bent over to examine the body.

Drawing a rubber safe from his pocket, he struck a match, and by the tiny flame looked at the head and side of the dead steed.

One scrutinizing glance was enough; the body was not that of his own favorite, but of Jack, belonging to his uncle.

"Poor Jack!" murmured the youth with a thrill of sympathy, "you have been on many a stirring campaign, but you will go on no more. I wonder how it was you met your death."

It looked as if the mustang had been stricken by a stray shot, that may have been fired by a friend, for it was not to be supposed that a Comanche would have killed him purposely, when he would have been a valuable prize.

The bridle and saddle were in the cabin, so that the owner had simply lost one of his horses, his supply of extra ones being sufficient to replace him without trouble.

"I am afraid there is little chance of finding Thunderbolt alive," added the youth, as he resumed his search.

He made his way through the bush with the utmost care, for, although the Indians had been sharply repulsed, he was aware of the custom of those people, when any of their number are killed or wounded. The survivors put forth every exertion to take them away with them, having the horror of their race against any falling into the hands of their enemies. It was more than likely that when the sun rose not a body would be anywhere in sight. Even the warrior who had run him so hard, only to succ.u.mb to the rifle of Ballyhoo Gleeson, would not be forgotten by his former comrades.

Advancing with the utmost caution, he heard a rustling in the bush in front. Quite sure that it was caused by his enemies, he stood a minute or two listening, uncertain whether to advance or withdraw. But he found the parties were receding, and he ventured to steal forward in order to gain a closer sight of them.

A short walk took him to the edge of the mesquite, where the additional light offered a partial view of a strange scene.

Two able-bodied warriors were supporting a third between them. The wounded one was able to walk slowly with help, but it was apparent that he was badly hurt, for he leaned heavily upon his support, who stopped at intervals to give him rest.

Finally the party halted, and one of them emitted a tremulous but sharp whistle. The signal was for a couple of their own horses, which loomed to sight in the gloom, as they advanced in obedience to the command.

Fearful of being discovered, if he left the bush, Avon kept in the shadow and watched the party. His view was indistinct, but it was easy to see that the two warriors were lifting their wounded companion upon the back of one of the mustangs. When this was done a Comanche took his seat behind him, so as to hold him in place by pa.s.sing an arm around his waist. Those people had no need of saddles, their accoutrement consisting of the single thong fastened around the head of the animal, and by which he could be guided at the will of his master. Indeed, many of the Comanches ride without any such aid at all, their intelligent animals being obedient to their voices, and seeming to comprehend their wishes as if by intuition.

Soon after the mustangs and their riders faded from view in the gloom, the horses on a moderate walk. They would have proven easy victims to a couple of the cattlemen, had they appeared at this moment, but, much as the fiery ranchmen despised and hated this tribe, it may be doubted whether there was one of their number who would have taken advantage of such an opportunity.

The Texans were ready to fight at all times, but there is a chivalry in their composition which prevents their taking an unfair advantage of a foe. They would have allowed the trio to ride away unmolested, which is just what the Comanches would not have done, had their situations been reversed.

Avon Burnet was considering whether it was worth while to push his search further, when, to his surprise, an exclamation broke upon his ear, in the form of a vigorous "_Oofh!_" as nearly as it can be put in letters.

He knew it came from the lips of an Indian, who was not far off, though in a different direction from that taken by the warriors and their wounded comrade. It was more to the south, though the penetrating glance he cast in that direction failed to reveal the individual.

But it was heard again, and now, when he looked, he was able to catch the dim outlines of a horse, walking slowly toward him.

"What's the matter with the Comanches to-night?" the puzzled youth asked himself; "they seem to be up to all manner of tricks."

As the horseman gradually became more distinct, he saw that the rider was in an odd quandary. He was striving to turn the animal in the opposite direction, but he would not obey. He flung up his head, sometimes reared angrily, and, though he maintained a walk, kept pushing straight on toward the bush, despite the savage attempts of the rider to make him wheel about.

A suspicion flashed through the mind of Avon. The man was an Indian beyond question, and the horse could not be his own, for, if it were, he would have obeyed him without urging. It must be one of the Texan horses that he was trying to steal.

The youth uttered the familiar signal by which he was able at all times to bring Thunderbolt to his side, when he was within hearing. The mustang replied with a glad whinny, and broke into a trot straight for his master. It was indeed his prized animal, with a Comanche warrior on his back.

CHAPTER XXIII.

"GOOD-BY!"

The Comanche must have been disgusted. He had been trying for some time to steal the mustang of Avon Burnet, with the result that the pony was about to steal him, unless he prevented it offhand.

The Indian heard the whistle from the edge of the bush, and the instant increase of speed, on the part of the stubborn mustang, made the meaning clear to him. He did not know but that three or four Texans were waiting in the mesquite, and that, if he stayed on the back of the steed a minute longer, he would be carried directly into their arms.

Consequently he did not hesitate. He went off of Thunderbolt, as if struck by a cannon ball, and, heading out on the prairie, ran with might and main, quickly disappearing in the darkness, and was seen no more.

"Ah, my own Thunderbolt!" exclaimed the delighted Avon, patting the nose of his beast, who was as happy as he at being restored to his young master; "I thought I would never see you again, but here you are."

He sprang upon the bare back, and the pony started through the bush for the cabin.

Arriving there, matters were found in a satisfactory shape. Ballyhoo Gleeson was the only cowboy that had remained behind with Captain Shirril. The rest had started to look after the cattle. It has been shown that a number had been stampeded, and since all care was necessarily withdrawn from the others, they were likely to follow suit.

Then, too, it was probable that the Comanches would see their chance of securing some of the herd, and would make the attempt despite the rough handling they had received.

Nothing could have attested more strikingly the fact that our friends were accustomed to their wild, dangerous life, than the manner in which they now acted. A half hour before, the little family within the cabin considered themselves in such imminent peril of being burned to death that they allowed young Burnet to run the greatest risk to secure help, before it was too late.

But now Captain Shirril and Ballyhoo Gleeson sat before the fire, that was burning brightly, smoking their pipes, and talking as though the occurrence was of the most ordinary nature. The ranchman had made sure of his supply of tobacco, and intended to ride back to camp, after spending an hour or so within the house.

Everyone had eaten supper before the lively incidents opened, and Mrs.

Shirril now resumed her sitting in front of the fire, occasionally taking part in the words of her husband and guests. Dinah was heard muttering angrily to herself upstairs, as she investigated the damages done by the visitor in her apartment.

Avon, on his return, told his uncle about his horse, explaining that he was fortunate enough to recover Thunderbolt.

"You were luckier than I supposed you would be," said the captain, as his nephew drew up his chair near them.

"Do you think," asked the wife, "that the Comanches will trouble us further, husband?"

"There is no danger," he replied, calmly puffing his pipe; "is there, Ballyhoo?"

"None at all," was the calm response.

"I thought perhaps that because they had suffered so severely, they would come back to revenge themselves," ventured the little woman, still busily plying her needle.

"But you see the damage was done, not by you and Dinah, though you did your part, but by the men, and _them's_ the ones they'll go for,"

observed Ballyhoo.

"That is not the invariable rule with Indians," was the truthful remark of Mrs. Shirril. "It makes little difference to them whether the innocent or guilty suffer."

"But," said the husband, "the prime object of the redskins is cattle, with perhaps horses thrown in. You know they have been hanging round for a number of days, waiting for a chance before we started north; they will make an effort to run off those stampeded cattle to-night, and likely enough will follow us into the Indian Nation, on the watch for a chance to gather in several hundred hoofs."

"I think there's one thing that's encouraging," said Avon, addressing all his friends; "you know how dry the roof of the house is. If Dinah hadn't put her foot down when she did, there would have been no cabin at this moment. The Comanches tried to fire the sides, and failing in that, gave their attention to the roof, where they came so near succeeding."

"What do you refer to as encouraging, Avon?" asked his uncle.