The Great Cattle Trail Part 23

Confident that someone would be found at that point who could give him the important news he was seeking, Avon rode thither on a dead run. He saw no one stirring as he galloped up. The cook, who had charge of the wagon, was asleep, and the men off duty were slumbering soundly, while the chance was theirs.

But young Burnet had scarcely checked his mustang, when the sound of someone riding his horse equally fast reached his ear, and the next instant Oscar Gleeson dashed beside him.

"Howdy, Baby, is that you?" he asked, peering at the young man dimly seen in the scant yellow rays of the lantern.

"Yes, Ballyhoo," was the reply; "I'm in trouble."

"What is it?"

"I've lost the herd."

The Texan shook in his saddle with laughter.

"That's me, too; the first thing I knowed they was gone. I yelled for you, but you couldn't have heard me, and, after cantering round awhile, I struck for the wagon in quest of news."

Avon drew a sigh of relief, and with a smile:

"I'm glad you lost them, for the boys won't laugh at you, while they would at me."

"I don't think there's anyone in that crowd that will laugh, for they all had the same experience. I know Old Bronze and Short Stop have lost a herd more than once."

"It won't do to stay here," remarked Avon, "for you know there is another herd only a mile off, and if the two become mixed, it will be a big job to cut out ours to-morrow."

"I shouldn't wonder," replied Gleeson, "if the cattle have gone back to the bed-ground; at any rate we'll look for them there."

The return to the wagon enabled the couple to obtain their bearings, and they knew the proper course to reach the spot, but the possibility of the theory being wrong caused them to separate, so as to proceed thither by routes which, while substantially parallel, were so far apart that they were out of each other's sight and hearing, the latter being chiefly due to the direction of the wind.

Avon spurred Thunderbolt into an easy canter, the soft gra.s.s making the travel easy, though there was always the risk of his animal sinking one or more of his hoofs into a hole, with the prospect of a broken leg for the horse and a dislocated neck for his rider.

When it seemed to the latter that he had pa.s.sed the intervening distance, he drew his mustang to a walk, listening and peering through the gloom with all the power at his command. There was no lighting of the darkness, the wind still blew keenly, and the fine drizzling rain continued.

No sight nor sound came to him, and, once more bringing his animal to a halt, he dismounted and pressed his ear to the ground.

This time he caught a distinct noise: it was that made by the hoofs of a horse. He was walking, and was so near that Thunderbolt p.r.i.c.ked his ears and uttered a faint whinny of salutation. Avon instantly rose to his feet, and remounted.

Looking keenly into the wet darkness, he became aware that a horse was standing motionless but a short distance off on his left. In the gloom the outlines could be traced, but so dimly that he was uncertain whether he had a rider or not. The steed held his head well up like Thunderbolt, and appeared to be scrutinizing the youth and his animal with a curiosity equal to theirs.

There was something so impressive in the sight of the statue-like object, which emitted not the slightest sound, that young Burnet hesitated whether to advance or to await its approach. The man could not be Gleeson, and, whoever he was, it was evident that he regarded Avon with inquiring suspicion.

But unwilling to maintain the trying situation, the latter touched the neck of his mustang in a way which the animal recognized as a command to move forward very slowly. He obeyed, and had advanced but a few short steps when Avon to his astonishment perceived that the strange horse was without a rider.

"I don't understand that," mused the mystified young man, stopping his own animal, with several yards separating them; "he must have an owner, and what can have become of him, and why is----"

At that instant he observed a suspicious movement, seemingly from the other side of the steed. Before he could divine its nature, a rifle was discharged almost in his face and he went off his mustang like a flash.

CHAPTER XXVII.

SHACKAYE, THE COMANCHE.

Avon Burnet was in the act of lifting his Winchester from across the front of his saddle, when he made the discovery that, although the strange mustang in front of him bore no rider, yet a man was on the ground directly beyond and evidently watching every movement made by himself.

This discovery could mean but one thing: the individual was an enemy, and was on the point of making a hostile movement against him. He had undoubtedly dismounted on learning of Burnet's approach and interposed his steed between them. Despite the gloom on every hand, Avon read aright the meaning of the almost imperceptible movement on the other side of the saddle, and he slipped from the back of his mustang with a celerity which, being displayed almost at the instant of the discharge of the other weapon, looked as if it was the result of a fatal shot.

But, although the bullet so treacherously fired came near its mark, the youth was not touched. His action was in the nick of time: a second later could not have availed him.

He was incensed, as he had the best cause for being, and he resolved that the miscreant should not escape him. His rifle was s.n.a.t.c.hed from its resting-place, and, stepping from behind Thunderbolt, he drew the best bead possible on his foe.

The dexterity of the latter was marvellous. It was as if, at the very instant of discharging his weapon, he had vaulted into the saddle, and, wheeling the head of his horse away, sent him scurrying straight from his intended victim.

Not only that, but, in accordance with the fashion of the frontier in such emergencies, he flung himself forward on the neck of his animal, so as to offer the least possible target to the other, who, if not hit hard, was certain to return the shot.

The curious feature of the proceeding was that the man, having seen the youth vanish from the back of his steed at the instant the gun was discharged, did not a.s.sume that he was killed. Possibly such was his supposition, and his hasty flight was partly due to his anxiety to place himself beyond reach of his friends, who were likely to be drawn thither by the sound of firing. His act in throwing himself upon the neck of his mustang was simply in obedience to the rule which requires the frontiersman to avail himself of every possible means of safety, even when there is seemingly no call for it.

Despite the quickness of young Burnet, he was able to bring his Winchester to a level only at the moment the steed was thundering out of sight in the darkness, but he let fly three times in rapid succession, reckless whether he struck rider or animal; but since the sound of the hoofs still came to him, he was chagrined at the conviction that he had missed both.

"But you haven't escaped me yet," he muttered, swinging himself into the saddle; "there is no horse in Texas or the Indian Nation that can leave me behind; now, Thunderbolt, run him down!"

But, while the fates had been kind to Avon, in that he escaped death by the narrowest conceivable chance, they seemed equally well disposed toward the object of his wrath. The boast of the pursuer as to the fleetness of his mustang was warranted, and had the circ.u.mstances continued favorable for only a few minutes, he would have brought his young rider beside the fleeing steed, where the account between the two men must have been quickly settled.

But at the very moment of starting, the forelegs of Thunderbolt sank into a hole above the knees. His activity saved him from harm, but his rider took a header over his ears, sprawling on the wet gra.s.s in front with a shock that stunned him.

By the time he could rally and remount his mustang, the other was not only beyond sight, but his listening ear could not detect the slightest sound of the flying hoofs.

"He has escaped this time," thought Avon, as he once more resumed his place in the saddle, "but the account is still open and must be settled very soon."

He was right, except that the account was closed not only sooner than he suspected, but in a manner of which he never dreamed.

Despite his alarming experience he had not lost his reckoning, and, facing toward the bed-ground of the herd, he had ridden but a short way, when the familiar sounds told him he was near the animals from which he was lost only a short time before.

"They are here, Baby, just as I thought." The remark was made by Gleeson, who loomed up in the gloom as he spoke, with his mustang on a deliberate walk.

"I am glad of that, and, since no one beside you and me knows of our slip last night, we'll keep it to ourselves."

"I've no objection; but didn't I hear a gun go off a few minutes ago?

What was you shooting at?"

"It wasn't _I_--someone shot at _me_."

And thereupon Avon related the particulars of his encounter with the treacherous horseman. Gleeson listened and said nothing until he had finished. Then, with a characteristic exclamation, he expressed his regret that Thunderbolt should have stumbled as he did.

"Keep your eyes open," he added. "I'll do the same, and we'll get the drop on him soon."

"Why does he want to hurt _me_?" asked Avon, "when there has never been a word between us?"

"It's the nature of the animal," was the reply. "It wouldn't have made any difference whether it was you or me, so he thought he had a sure thing of it. That's what he's here for."