BELIEVERS IN SAFETY FIRST
Bang! Bang! Bang! The air seemed filled with explosions of rifles
and revolvers, and the Overland camp was in an uproar in a moment,
even Stacy Brown rousing himself sufficiently to sit up and take
quick notice. The instant the shooting began Stacy, concluding that
his services were not needed, lay down with his blanket drawn up
over his head.
“Safety first,” muttered the boy as a bullet tore a hole through his
little dog tent. “Wow! I wonder what all the excitement is about?”
Grace and Stacy were the only ones of the outfit who had not run out
following the alarm. Grace had turned her pocket lamp on Elfreda’s
face. It was a pallid face that she looked upon.
“Elfreda! Elfreda! What is it?” begged Grace. “Oh, what is it?”
Miss Briggs was breathing, but was unconscious.
The shooting died away as suddenly as it had started, and then Emma
and Nora ran to Grace’s tent, crying out to know what had happened.
“I don’t know, girls. Please hold the light so I can examine her. I
heard Elfreda scream, then came the shooting, and that is all I know
about it,” answered Grace. Her nimble fingers ran over her
companion’s head, neck and shoulders, for Grace’s experience in the
hospital service in France had not only made her efficient in
emergencies, but had taught her to keep her own self well in hand.
“Ah! Here it is.”
“Wha—what!” gasped Nora.
“A lump on the top of her head, well down near the forehead. She has
been dealt a heavy blow, but with what, I can’t say. Fetch water. We
must try to revive her.”
Lieutenant Hippy Wingate came running up at this juncture, revolver
in hand.
“What is it?” he demanded.
“Elfreda has been knocked out,” Nora told him.
“With what?”
“I don’t know, Hippy,” spoke up Grace. “Please go away. This is no
place for you. Stand by in case we need you. Where is the guide?”
“He is trying to find out if there are prowlers about here. I think
he found someone, for I heard a man yell,” Hippy informed them as he
left the tent.
Reviving Elfreda was a matter of only a few minutes after they began
bathing her face and rubbing her body. Grace then uttered a sigh of
relief.
“What—what happened to you?” stammered Emma.
“Don’t question her now. Can’t you see that she is weak?” rebuked
Grace. “Lie perfectly quiet, dear. You can talk later,” admonished
Grace, as Miss Briggs indicated that she had something to say. “You
girls had better step out and give us a few moments’ quiet,” she
advised. “Hippy, if it is prudent, you had better start up the
fire,” she called. “We must have light and warm water. Where is
Stacy?”
Hippy said he had not seen the fat boy, and then went straight to
Stacy’s tent, where he found him still practicing safety first.
Hippy dragged Stacy out by the feet.
“Leggo! Wow!” howled Stacy. “Oh, it’s you, is it?” he added. “What
do you mean by waking up a fellow like this? Anything wrong?” he
questioned innocently.
“Oh, no; nothing at all. Everything is peaceful and quiet. You get
out and help me build a fire, and be lively about it, too. I’m not
in the mood to trifle with you.”
While Hippy and Stacy were building a fire, the two girls, Emma and
Nora, got water to be heated. Grace bathed Miss Briggs’ feet in the
hot water, for the injured girl was in a chill. A lump of sizable
proportions had formed on her head. This was dressed by Grace, and
in a short time Miss Briggs was asleep. Grace then stepped outside
to her companions who were standing about the fire.
“Hasn’t Mr. White come in yet?” she demanded.
“I haven’t seen him. Has J. Elfreda said anything yet?” questioned
Hippy.
“Not about what happened. If she awakens again, and is then able to
talk, I will question her. Please let me know when Mr. White comes
in.”
It was some time later when the guide returned. Elfreda had been
awake from her brief sleep long enough to tell Grace what she knew
of the occurrence.
“Mr. White, what do you know about this?” asked Grace.
“Not a thing. The first I knew of anything being wrong was when
someone called, followed by a cry. I think it was Miss Briggs who
first cried out.”
Grace nodded.
“As I got on my feet I saw a man running, and knowing that it could
be none of our party running away, I fired at him. I don’t think I
hit him. He returned the fire, but at that juncture Lieutenant
Wingate began shooting. Lieutenant, I’ll say you aren’t slow about
getting into action. It was bully. Then I chased the man and he and
I both emptied our revolvers at each other. One of us hit him—”
“It was your shot, Ham,” interrupted Hippy. “I wasn’t shooting when
he cried out.”
“Then you didn’t get the fellow?” demanded Grace, addressing the
guide.
“No. He got away. I wish it had been daylight. That is all I can
tell you. May I ask what Miss Briggs has to say of the attack on
her?”
“She says she felt something moving under her pillow, and after
waiting a moment she became convinced that a hand was searching
there. She made a grab for the hand and caught a man’s arm and then
lost consciousness.”
“Fright?” asked the guide.
“Fright! No. A blow on the head, Mr. White. I think the fellow must
have brought his fist down, for the injury doesn’t look as if it had
been done with a stick or an instrument. That is all she knows about
it, sir.”
“Was anything taken—did she have anything under her pillow?”
persisted White.
“Yes. That little canvas bag she carries. There was nothing of value
in it. There may have been some small change there, for most of her
money was in her money belt around her waist. The other things in
the bag were such toilet articles as we all carry to use while
riding—and a little powder,” added Grace smilingly. “Mere men don’t
understand those things.”
“Thieves!” cried Stacy. “Oh, wow!” The fat boy ran to his tent and
feverishly searched his clothing. He was back in a few moments. “I
knew it! The thief didn’t dare tackle a real man. You see, he picked
out weak women. He knew better than to trifle with Stacy Brown.”
“Even if Stacy Brown did hide under a blanket when the show opened,”
supplemented Lieutenant Wingate. “I presume, if Elfreda had not
given the alarm, the man would have gone through all our
belongings.”
Ham White was pacing up and down. They could see that he was
disturbed.
“The low-down cur!” he breathed, clenching his fists, his face set
and slightly paler than usual.
“Hamilton! Hamilton! Don’t disturb yourself so,” begged Emma
solicitously. “Be calm, do. I will demonstrate for you.”
“Aw, let the peanut man do the demonstrating,” jeered Stacy. “Your
demonstrating might do at a family picnic, but up here it is punk!”
White gave no heed to Emma’s sympathetic words. He stood with
lowered chin thinking.
“The peanut man!” cried Nora.
“Yes. Where is Mr. Haley, Mr. White?” demanded Grace.
“I don’t know, Mrs. Gray,” replied the guide slowly. “I thought he
was sleeping beside me when I sprang up. I haven’t seen him since,”
added Ham White, bending over to poke the fire.
The Overlanders looked at each other, and each knew what the other
was thinking about.
“Some demonstrator, that fellow,” observed Stacy Brown. “I’m mighty
glad that he didn’t demonstrate over that fifty-cent piece in my
trousers pocket.”