THE OUTLAW
The first day of the round-up was done, and well done, Mr. Hammond
said. The girls had been in the saddle for more than twelve hours;
and how they did sleep this second night under canvas!
Bess wanted to say something about plans for hunting the Mexican
bandit's treasure before she fell asleep; but actually she dropped
into slumber in the middle of the word "treas-ure" and never
finished what she was going to say.
Nan, however, awoke long before dawn again. She felt lame and
stiff, like an old person afflicted with rheumatism. The
unusualness of the previous day's activities caused this stiffness
of the joints and soreness of her muscles.
She heard the fires crackling and saw the reflection of firelight
on the side of the tent, so she knew the cooks were astir. But
nobody else seemed to be moving yet, and Nan might have turned over
for another nap had it not been for a peculiar sound which suddenly
smote upon her ear, and seemingly from a long way off.
After hearing this for a minute or two, she got up and crept to the
tent entrance. The flap was laid back for the sake of ventilation,
and with her kimono hunched about her shoulders, she crouched in
the doorway and looked out across the open space before the grove
in which the camp was pitched. It was just between dark and dawn
when strange figures seem to move in the dimness of out-of-doors.
Yet Nan knew there really was nothing stirring there on the plain.
The herd was much farther away.
The sound that had disturbed her came to her ears again, a high,
thin, crackling whistle--a most uncanny noise.
"What can it be?" murmured Nan aloud.
"Nan!" whispered a voice beyond her.
"Goodness! Is that you, Walter Mason?" she demanded, huddling her
robe closer about her.
"Yes. Come on out. Do you hear that funny noise?"
"Yes. What is it? I can't come out. I'm not dressed."
"Well, get dressed," he said, chuckling. "I want to know what
that--There! Hear it again?"
The high whistling sound rose once more. It seemed to be coming
nearer, and was from the north, the direction of the hills.
"Isn't it funny?" gasped Nan. "Shall I ask Rhoda?"
"Come on out and we'll ask one of the men if he knows what it is.
That horse wrangler is up. I just saw him going toward the pony
corral."
"Hesitation Kane? Well, we'll never learn if we ask him," giggled
Nan. "Wait, Walter. I'll come right out."
She went softly back to her cot and sat down on it to draw on her
stockings. She dressed as quickly and as quietly as possible. Even
Rhoda did not awake, and, knowing that all her girl friends were
probably just as tired and stiff as she was, Nan got out of the
tent without disturbing them in the slightest.
"Oh, Walter!" she murmured, seizing his hand in the dusk, "how
strange everything seems. Such a wilderness! And I haven't washed
my face."
"Come on down to the brook," said her boy friend. "They call it a
river here. They ought to see the Drainage Canal!" and he laughed.
"What do you suppose they would say to the Mississippi River?"
"Just what Rhoda said she thought of it when she first saw that
noble stream: That it was an awful waste of land to put so much
water on it! You know there are sections of this country down here
where it rains only once in about eight years."
They reached the river's edge. It was light enough here to see what
they were about. Both knelt down and laved their faces and hands
and, as Nan said, "wiggled the winkers out of their eyes."
Walter produced a clean towel, for Nan had forgotten hers, and one
on one end and one on the other, they dried their faces and hands.
Nan's hair was in two firm plaits, and she would not dress it anew
until later.
"I don't want to wake up the tribe. They are sleeping so soundly,"
she explained.
"There's that funny call again!" exclaimed Walter, stopping in a
vigorous scrubbing of his face with the towel to listen.
"Come on!" cried Nan under her breath. "We must find out what that
means."
They started for the campfire where the cooks were at work, and
ran, clinging to each other's hand. Before they reached the cleared
space about the Rose Ranch chuck wagon, a figure loomed up before
them.
"Here's Mr. Kane now!" cried Nan, halting before the grim-visaged
horseman. "Good-morning, Mr. Kane!"
The man's lips twisted into a smile, and he nodded. But no word
came from him. Nan was not to be put off easily. She asked:
"Do you know what that sound is, Mr. Kane? Do listen to it!" as the
high-pitched whistle again reached their ears.
Hesitation Kane struggled to answer--and it was a struggle. They
could see that. He flushed, and paled, and finally blurted out a
single word:
"Outlaw!"
With that he strode by and was lost in the shadows of the trees.
Nan and Walter gazed at each other in both amazement and amusement.
"What do you know about that?" demanded the boy.
"Well, we got him to say something," sighed the girl.
"But--but it doesn't mean anything. 'Outlaw,' indeed! Does he mean
to tell us that there is a Mexican bandit, for instance, out there
whistling?"
"How foolish!" laughed Nan. "Of course not."
"Then, Miss Sherwood, please explain," commanded Walter.
"You'd better ask Mr. Hesitation Kane to explain."
"And get another cryptic answer? No, thanks! I want to know--There
it is again!"
The sound was closer. Nan suddenly laughed.
"Why," she cried, "I know what it is. It's a horse--a wild horse.
Of course!"
"But he said 'outlaw.' Oh!" added Walter suddenly, "I know now.
Some of the wild stallions never can be tamed. I've read about
them. Of course, it is a stallion. We heard them calling
day-before-yesterday.
"Well, I never!" chuckled Walter. "That fellow had me fooled. I
didn't know but we were about to be attacked by Mexican robbers."
"Oh, Walter! do you suppose they were desperadoes who came through
the Gap day-before-yesterday morning?" Nan asked.
"I don't know. Maybe Rhoda and her father were fooling."
"But they take it so coolly."
"They take everything coolly," said the boy, with admiration. "I
never saw such people! Why, these cowboys do the greatest stunts on
horseback, and make no bones of it. No circus or Wild West show was
ever the equal of it.
"Hullo, here's Rhoda now!"
The Rose Ranch girl appeared, smiling and wide awake. She did not
appear to be lame from the previous day's riding.
"Hear that renegade calling out there?" she asked. "He's followed
the herd down from the hills. Come on and let's catch our ponies.
We'll take a ride out that way before breakfast. If it is the horse
I think it is, you'll see something worth while."
They hurried down to the corral where the riding ponies were. With
her rope Rhoda noosed first her own, then Nan's, and then Walter's
mounts. The saddles hung along the fence, and they cinched them on
tight to the round barrels of the ponies, and then mounted.
The horses were fresh again, and started off spiritedly. The sun
was coming up now, and again the wonder of sunrise on the plains
impressed the girl from Tillbury.
"It is just wonderful, Rhoda," she told her friend. "I shall never
cease to marvel at it."
"It is worth getting up in the morning to see," agreed Rhoda,
smiling. "There! See yonder?"
The level rays of the sun touched up the edge of the plain toward
which they were headed. Here the broken rocks of the foothills
joined the lush grass of the valley. On a boulder, outlined clearly
against the background of the hill, stood a beautiful creature
which, in the early light, seemed taller and far more noble looking
than any ordinary horse.
"Oh!" gasped Nan, "is that the outlaw?"
The distant horse stretched his neck gracefully and blew another
shrill call. He was headed toward the herd which was now being
urged into the valley by the punchers. The horse whistled again and
again.
"What a beautiful creature!" murmured Nan. "Oh, Rhoda! can't we
catch him?"
"That's the fellow," said the Western girl. "They have been trying
to rope him for three seasons. But nobody has ever been able to get
near enough to him yet. He is not a native horse, either."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Walter curiously.
"You know, horses ran wild in this country when the Spanish first
came in. These were of the mustang breed. The Indian pony--the
cayuse--was found up in Utah and Idaho. Horse-breeders down here
have bought Morgan sires and other blooded stock to run with the
mustangs.
"That fellow yonder was bought by Mr. Duranger, an Englishman, who
owned the Long Bow. The horse got away five years ago and ran off
with the wild herd, and now he is the wildest of the bunch. And
swift!"
"What a beauty!" exclaimed Walter.
The sunlight shone full on the handsome horse. He was black, save
for his chest, forefeet, and a star on his forehead. Those spots
gleamed as white as silver. His tail swept the ground. His coat
shone as though it had just been curried. He stamped his hoofs upon
the rock and called again to the herd that he had trailed down from
the fastnesses of the hills.
"If we could only catch him!" murmured Nan.
Rhoda laughed. "You want to catch that outlaw; and Bess wants to
find the Mexican treasure. I reckon you'll both have your work cut
out for you."