A TEST OF ONE’S NERVES.
NICK RIBSAM and Herbert Watrous could hardly believe their own senses,
and for a second or two looked at each other and at the cowboys, to
make sure they had heard aright.
The youths were lolling near each other, Nick leaning on his elbow
and looking in the broad face of Lattin, who just then was telling of
a scrimmage in which he had had the closest call of his life while
hunting Geronimo, while Herbert sat more erect.
Strubell, as has been told, was lying on his back on the other side
of the camp fire, his hands clasped behind his head, and resting on
his stone pillow. His sombrero lay on his forehead, in such a way
that a part of the rim shaded his eyes, whose view of the outer world
was obtained by gazing down along the front of his face and chin. He
could see his slowly heaving breast, the cartridge belt, and the one
leg crossed over the other and partly crooked at the knee. Off to
the left was the glowing camp fire, and, by turning his eyes without
moving his head, he could trace a part of the figure of Lattin, who was
discoursing for the entertainment of his young friends.
This was the shape of matters, when the younger cowboy abruptly checked
his narrative, and, looking across the fire at his companion, warned
him not to move on the penalty of instant death, to which the other,
without stirring a muscle or giving any evidence of alarm, calmly
replied that he was aware of his situation, which was so hopeless that
he considered himself the same as dead already.
“Don’t move,” added Lattin in a whisper to the boys, “or you will scare
it; keep on talking the same as before, and maybe it will let him
alone.”
“What are you referring to?” asked the perplexed Nick.
“There’s a tarantula lying on Arden’s breast; don’t you see it?”
The hideous thing was sitting on the chest of the cowboy, directly
over his heart. Where it had come from no one could say, but probably
the warmth of the fire or that of the body of the Texan had drawn it
to the spot, and it was now making an exploration, on its own account,
ready to inflict its deadly bite on the least provocation.
Strubell was half asleep, when, looking along the front of his body, he
saw the outlines of the spider in the yellow light of the camp fire. It
caused a slight tickling sensation, as it slowly felt its way forward.
He knew its nature the instant he caught sight of it, and he observed
that it was of unusual size and fierceness. He had seen a comrade die
from the bite of a tarantula, which is held in greater dread than the
famous rattlers of Texas, for it gives no warning of its intentions,
which most frequently come in the form of a nipping bite whose effects
are not only fatal but frightfully rapid.
Arden might have slowly unclasped his hands and given the thing a quick
flirt, but the chances were a thousand to one that, if he did so, it
would bite his finger. If let alone, it might change its purpose and
crawl off into the darkness. It was not likely to injure him so long
as it stayed on the front of his shirt, for it was hard for it to bite
through that. It preferred the naked surface of the body in order to do
its worst.
It could not very well bite the hands, since they remained clasped
behind the Texan’s head. The nearest favorable points were the neck,
where the shirt was open, and the face. If the spider crept upward, it
was evident that it was making for one or the other, and there seemed
no way of checking it, for the first move on the part of any one of the
friends would rouse its anger, and cause it to bite the man on whose
body it was resting. All that could be done was to do nothing, and pray
to Heaven to save the poor fellow from impending death.
“We mustn’t show by anything we do,” said Lattin, “that we are excited.
A quick move—a loud call, or any unusual motion may lead it to use its
teeth. It’s the biggest and ugliest tarantula that I ever laid eyes on,
and if it gives Arden one nip, he’s a goner.”
“But it is terrible to sit here and see him die,” said Nick, who was so
nervous he found it hard to remain still, while Herbert trembled as if
with a chill.
“It’s all we can do,” replied the Texan, who nevertheless kept a sharp
eye on the thing, as if he was meditating some desperate resort to save
his comrade’s life. “We will talk on, as though nothing has took place
out of the usual run, and while we’re at it we’ll keep an eye on the
critter.”
“What good will it do to keep an eye on it,” was the sensible question
of Nick, “if we do nothing?”
“Leave that to me and don’t either of you stir. You know that we’re on
our way to look after a ranch that Mr. Lord thinks of buying in New
Mexico?”
He paused and gazed at the boys, as if in doubt whether they understood
the matter. They nodded their heads and he continued:
“George Jennings owns the ranch and wants to move east. Last year he
had another in Arizona. It was too small to suit him, and he came
over this way, and now, as I said, wants to get out of the bus’ness
altogether. You know, I s’pose, that they have warm weather in Arizona
at certain times in the year?”
Once more the cowboy checked himself, as if he desired a reply. He
seemed to be looking at the boys, but in reality was watching the
tarantula, which was motionless on the breast of Strubell, as if he,
too, was debating what was best to do.
“I don’t know of any part of the country where they do not have pretty
hot weather in the course of the year,” said Nick.
“But Arizona lays over ’em all,” said Lattin, as if proud of the fact;
“I’ve seen it day after day there, and night, too, when the thermometer
doesn’t get below a hundred. Wal, it was on one of them blazing
afternoons, that Jennings stretched out on the floor in his low front
room to take a nap. His wife had gone to San Pedro a couple of days
before, under the escort of the two ranchmen hired by him, and he was
looking for ’em back every hour.
“That’s the way it came about that the father was left with his little
gal Mabel, which was only six years old. Jennings loved that gal more
than the apple of his eye, and would give his life any time to keep her
from harm. I b’lieve you’ve a little sister, Nick, that you think a
good deal of?”
“I have, God bless her!” replied Nick, as the moisture crept in his
eyes; “there is nothing I would not do to save her from suffering and
pain.”
Again, Lattin seemed to be looking at the countenance of the honest
youth, but in reality his eyes were on the tarantula, and his right
hand was moving slowly down his side toward his revolver in the belt at
his waist.
“That bein’ so, you can understand how much Jennings thought of his
little gal Mabel. Wal, he was in the middle of a nap, when he jumped
to his feet as if he had seen a rattler crawling over the floor toward
him. The reason why he jumped up so quick was ’cause he heard his
little gal scream. He went out the door as if shot from the mouth of a
cannon.
“The sight that met the ranchman was enough to set any father wild.
Two of Geronimo’s Apaches, each on a pony, was galloping off on a dead
run. One of them held Mabel in his arms, and the little gal, at sight
of her father, reached out her arms and called to him to come and take
her away from the bad Injun. Don’t you think that was enough to turn a
father’s brain?”
“There can be no doubt of that,” replied Nick, shuddering at the mental
picture of his sister Nellie in such an awful situation.
During the momentary pause, Lattin placed his hand on the butt of his
revolver. The tarantula had not stirred more than an inch since he was
seen, but that was in the direction of the Texan’s face, and his peril
was becoming more imminent than before.
“Be careful, boys,” said Strubell in his ordinary tones, “the creature
is getting nervous. He is now looking at me, and is coming a little
closer to my face. Don’t try to brush or knock him off: maybe he’ll
hunt for some other pasture, but the chances are against it.”
“All right, Ard,” replied Lattin with assumed cheerfulness; “we see
your fix and are prayin’ for you. As I was sayin’, the sight that met
Jennings’ eyes, when he jumped out of his door, was enough to set any
man frantic. He was back into the house again, and out once more like a
flash. He had his Winchester with him this time, and brought it to his
shoulder, but the Apache that had his little gal was on the watch and
held her up in front, so that the father couldn’t fire without killing
his own child. So Jennings just give one groan and staggered back into
the house and almost fell on to the floor.
“The poor fellow was in a bad fix. The nearest fort was a hundred miles
off, and it was almost as far to San Pedro. The two Apaches had rode to
the ranch on one pony, but, when they went away, the one that didn’t
have the little gal was on the back of Jennings’ horse, and, since his
wife and escort was absent, there wasn’t a single critter on the place.
“The first Apache had got so far off that he was beyond rifle-shot
before Jennings was outdoors. He come out a few minutes later, and,
shading his eyes, looked off across the dusty plain, where his child
had disappeared. He thought the horses which he seen were growing
plainer. They were coming toward him, and he didn’t know what it meant.
“For a while he didn’t stir, but kept looking closely. Bimeby, he seen
there was but one horseman and he was Sam Ruggles, one of them that had
acted as the escort of Mrs. Jennings when she went away. He was mounted
on his own horse, and leading that of Mrs. Jennings, who he said would
start home the next day.
“‘The country is so open,’ said Sam, ‘that she thought I had
better start at once, so as to give you what help I could with the
cattle—what’s the matter, George?’ he asked, observing the white face
of his friend.
“‘Where did you get my horse?’ asked Jennings, striving hard to control
himself.
“‘Up near the ford,’ said Sam; ‘just as I stopped to let my pony drink,
someone fired at me from the bush, and I dropped out the saddle to
the ground. I wasn’t hurt a bit; it was a dodge of mine to trick the
redskin. The next instant, there was a whoop, and an Apache galloped
out of the bush toward me, sure of another scalp. Wal,’ added Sam,
with a grin, ‘an Apache can mistake, the same as other folks, and I
needn’t give you the partic’lars. Your horse seemed to think he was at
liberty to travel home, and he went so fast that I didn’t overhaul him
till about a mile out. I was worried thinkin’ something had happened,
and was glad enough to see that everything was right.’ Now that was a
big mistake of Sam, wasn’t it?”
Nick and Herbert turned toward the speaker, as both answered his odd
question, and observed that he now held his revolver in hand.
“Boys,” called poor Strubell, “the tarantula is creeping toward my
face; I guess he means to bite; don’t stir, and if he gets much closer
I’ll make a sweep at him.”