STRANGE PROCEEDINGS.
THE elder Texan turned to the boys and said:
“I must ask you to excuse Baker and me for a few minutes, while we
discuss a little private business.”
It was a singular request, but Nick and Herbert nodded their heads.
Striking their ponies into a quick gallop, the cowboys rode a hundred
yards or so in advance, before bringing their animals down to a walk.
The gait of the youths was the same.
The remark made by Strubell concerning Rickard, caused Herbert to ask
what it meant. Nick told him the story, adding:
“They are talking now about him and the others: look at them!”
The Texans were certainly discussing some subject with great
earnestness. Inasmuch as they kept glancing to the eastward,
gesticulating and often pointing in that direction, there was little
doubt that Nick was right in his surmise as to the theme of their
conversation.
“I wonder what it can be,” said Herbert, after watching the couple,
who modulated their voices so that not a word could be recognized; “it
seems strange that they should treat the horse thief as a friend, when
they know him to be an enemy.”
“Well, I have been trying to figure it out; I supposed they would
make it clear to me, but though I heard them speak about it to each
other this morning, they took care not to give me a word in the way of
explanation. I shall not ask them, though I was never more curious to
learn anything in all my life.”
“It can’t be that Strubell and Lattin are on friendly terms with
Rickard?” suggested Herbert.
“I might think so, after what we have just seen, though it seems cruel
to suspect them of anything like that. Mr. Lord has known them for
years, and says two more honest men never lived.”
“You are brighter than I am, Nick; what is _your_ theory?”
“Well, it is clear that Strubell and Lattin had the choice of shooting
down Rickard when I drove him into camp, or of letting him go. They
knew it was of no use to ask a pledge of him in payment for their
kindness, for he wouldn’t regard any promise as binding; so, not
willing to treat him as he deserved, perhaps they took the fellow for
what he was, and then let him go.”
“You may be right, but the explanation doesn’t amount to much, and
doesn’t satisfy me.”
“Nor me either. I would like to hear yours.”
“I haven’t any. They are hard at it now!”
The Texans were talking more excitedly than ever, but did not forget
to keep their voices so low that no stray word reached the ears of the
puzzled youths.
The conference, however, speedily reached its conclusion. Their talking
ceased, and, bringing their horses to a standstill, they waited for
the boys and the pack horses to join them.
The faces of Strubell and Lattin showed signs of the stirring
conversation, but, as the boys anticipated, they were silent as to the
theme.
“We must make a change in our course,” said the elder, who immediately
turned the head of his pony to the westward, in the direction of the
hills among which they had spent the previous night. It was near noon,
and the major part of the day was gone, when they reached the rougher
section where the Texans said the camp was to be made.
They showed their usual good judgment in the selection of a favorable
site, for it was near another running stream, larger than the previous
one, though the current was roiled and lukewarm. They might count
themselves fortunate, however, that they were able to find water at
all; for thirst has caused the death of untold thousands of cattle on
the vast plains of Texas, and brought great suffering to those who have
ventured not alone upon the Llano Estacado, but in other localities
where moisture is almost unknown.
The pack horses were unloaded, saddles and bridles removed, and the
ponies allowed to crop the scanty grass. It was too early for the
regular evening meal, but considerable fuel was gathered; and, much
sooner than there seemed to be any need for it, a fire was started, the
smoke from which rose vertically, and was of so dark a color that it
must have been visible for a long distance across the plain.
During all this time the three horsemen in the eastern horizon were not
forgotten. The glasses were often turned thither, and there could be
no doubt that Rickard and his companions were keeping our friends in
sight. Evidently they were determined that they should not be lost.
The use of spy glasses has never been common among the cowmen, who are
generally gifted with such keen eyesight that they scorn everything
in the nature of artificial help. Counting upon this fact, it was
not unlikely that Rickard believed that, by hovering on the line of
invisibility, he would escape attention, or at least suspicion, on the
part of the Texans. Had he known of the field glasses, he must have
made an important change in his programme.
The fact that our friends were without a particle of food did not
cause them concern. They were not likely to suffer from starvation,
for, beside the stray cattle that they were warranted in using in an
emergency (always holding themselves ready to reimburse the owner when
it could be done), there were antelope and other animals to be found
among the hills.
But Lattin stated that, unless some kind of game would be accommodating
enough to come forward and offer itself as a sacrifice to their needs,
they would content themselves with a good cup of coffee around, making
up for the light meal when morning should come.
When the sun sank behind the hills, Rickard and his party became
invisible to the naked eye. The supposition might have been that they
had withdrawn and would be seen no more, but for the story told by the
field glasses. Under their power it was discovered that the scamps had
dismounted near a small arroya or natural depression, and compelled
their animals to lie down. Seating themselves at the same time on the
grass, they filled too small an angle for the unassisted eye to note
them across the intervening space.
Strubell turned to Lattin and spoke:
“Bell’s cunning, but he does not dream about the spy glasses.”
“We’re bound to hear from him before morning,” replied Lattin.
They did not mean that their words should be overheard, but Nick caught
them all, though he affected ignorance.
The next sentences were meant for the youths.
“Hadn’t we better move over the trail into the hills, Ard?” asked the
younger Texan, as though the idea had just come to him.
“Why should we do that?” inquired the other, as if in surprise.
“Well, you know of that spring where we’ve camped many a time, and once
had the brush with half a hundred Comanches. There are more rocks and
bowlders there, and everything is a blamed sight better for a fight
than it is here.”
“Now, Baker, you aint so foolish as to think Bell and the others mean
to disturb us?” asked Strubell, apparently forgetting the words uttered
by himself only a few minutes before.
“Well, maybe not, but you know as well as me that it won’t do to trust
him further than you can see him.”
“I tell you, Baker, what will be better,” spoke up Strubell, like a man
with a new and brilliant idea; “we’ll send the boys ahead to the spring
with the pack horses, while we wait here and find out just what Bell is
up to.”
“That is a good plan,” added Lattin heartily; “let’s do it.”
The Texans now turned to Nick and Herbert, as though they did not
suspect they had caught any of the conversation.
“Boys, we want to watch Bell and the others for a while, and have made
up our minds to let you ride some distance over the trail, while we
stay here and watch. I have proposed it, and Baker agrees that the plan
is a good one. You have no objections?”
It occurred to Nick to ask in what way it was likely to improve their
eyesight and the power of the glasses, by sending him and Herbert
off. Surely their presence or absence could not operate one way or the
other. The proposition was not very profound or bright, but, keeping
back his thoughts, he promptly answered:
“Herbert and I are always ready to do cheerfully whatever you decide is
best for us.”
“Thanks!—spoken like a man. Now, you see the trail just beyond,” added
Strubell, pointing to a faintly marked path; “it has been used since
the days of old Moses Austin and Sam Houston, and is so plain that you
can’t miss it. It leads into the hills for a quarter of a mile, and
then turns north through a sort of valley. A little more than half
a mile further, and you will come upon one of the prettiest springs
of water in Texas. There’s where you will unsaddle and make camp for
to-night.”
“When will you join us?”
“We hope to do so in the course of a few hours, but don’t be alarmed if
you see nothing of us before morning.”