INJUN TAKES A HAND
Injun lost little time in crawling noiselessly out of the hay, after
he had heard the foot-steps die away on the stairs and the door above
close; but he was cautious enough to lie still for a moment and listen,
for the darkness was such that he could see nothing. Climbing down to
the floor of the cavern, he produced his flint and steel; and in a
moment he had lighted a sliver of wood that he had chipped from one of
the planks with his hunting-knife. With this light he located a larger
piece of stick, and soon had a torch that lit up the space around him
for considerable distance. He glided swiftly around the cattle corral,
and in a few seconds he had loosed Whitey's bonds, and the latter
stretched his limbs that were even then beginning to feel the numbing
effects of the tight rope that had pinioned him.
It was necessary to do something, and that something quickly, for the
boys did not know at what moment the men might return. Injun split a
number of long slivers from a plank to serve as torches, and then the
boys made their way back toward the entrance to the river. They found
that the tunnel had been effectually closed not more than fifty feet
from its mouth by a heavy door that had been barred and padlocked, and
which resisted all their efforts to open it.
The fact that they had been able to enter the place at all had been
due to the carelessness of the last party of ranchers that had entered
and neglected to close and fasten it. Long immunity makes men careless
about the most important things.
Finding that escape in this direction was impossible, the boys made
their way back to the other end, but found there was no exit there.
They then came back to the stairs that led to the room above. Here
they held a consultation, and decided to mount the stairs and see
what could be learned. Cautiously ascending the stairs, Injun listened
at the door; and, after a moment, reported to Whitey that there were
several men in the room playing cards and discussing the situation.
After examining the lock by the light of one of the splinters, Whitey
saw that it could be opened by simply turning the knob; and returning
to the floor of the cavern, he formulated a plan, which, although a
desperate one and probably likely to fail, seemed to be their only
chance.
"It's dark by this time," said Whitey, "and probably the only light in
the room is a swinging one over the table, like all the ranch-houses
have." Injun nodded assent, and Whitey continued: "We'll both go to the
top of the stairs, and I'll open the door quickly and smash the lamp.
There'll be a big fuss and confusion, and maybe you can slip through
the room and out one of the windows without being caught. What do you
think of it?"
Injun thought a while and finally nodded; he knew that the ranch-house
windows were barred, but he also knew that he could probably wiggle
through them, and he indicated that he was ready as soon as Whitey was.
Whitey selected a stout stick at the corral, and noiselessly the two
boys climbed the stairs, and Whitey cautiously turned the knob. The
door swung back toward them noiselessly, and by good luck the doors of
the wardrobe that concealed the door were partially closed. In another
second, Whitey and Injun stood in the wardrobe.
From his position Whitey could see a part of the room, and he pointed
out to Injun that there was a window at the end of the room through
which the latter might climb without having to pass the table. Injun
was to remain behind one of the doors of the wardrobe until Whitey
had smashed the lamp, and then he was to make a run for it. The
conversation of the men was plainly audible.
"I ain't none too stuck on the bet as she lays," said the heavy voice
of Ross, who had by this time imbibed considerable whiskey, "an' I
ain't shore but the best thing 'd be to choke thet kid an' chuck him
in the river. Ef he ever gits loose, it's good night!"
There was a murmur of assent at this from some of the men, but Crowley
was plainly against it. "Yo' all is afraid o' yo'r own shadder! In
the first place, how's he goin' t' git loose? The' ain't no way fer
him t' git out 'n thet cellar 'cept through this room, even ef he got
shet of 'bout twenty-five foot o' rope thet was drawed some tight
'round his arms an' legs. An' 't looks like we all might stop him 'fore
he got very far ef he come this way!" and Crowley looked about him
contemptuously. "I'm a heap more 'fraid o' facin' a murder indictment
'n I am of anythin' thet kid er the hull, blame Bar O outfit kin do! I
tell yo' the' ain't no danger o' their findin' him 'n the' is o' thet
lamp explodin'!"
Whitey had set himself for the spring, and he threw open the doors of
the wardrobe and reached the table in one bound. With a blow of the
stick he shattered the lamp, and then swung it about him vigorously.
Taken entirely unawares, and being totally ignorant of what had struck
them, there was indescribable pandemonium for a time. The room was in
almost utter darkness, and several of the men having received hearty
whacks over the head from the club in Whitey's hands, contributed
shouts and curses to the general uproar.
"What the jumpin' tom-cuts has struck us?" shouted Crowley in
consternation as he received a whack across his face from the stick,
and a deep and fervent oath from Ross indicated that he, too, had "got
his."
Each was afraid to shoot lest he hit one of his own gang, and, indeed,
the whole outfit was at a decided disadvantage. No one saw the sinuous
Injun as he glided out of the wardrobe and slipped along the wall to
the window. The bars were not very far apart, but it is probable that
Injun would have gone through any space that a rattlesnake could; and
in less time that it takes to tell it, Injun had squirmed his way
between the bars and dropped to the ground in the darkness outside.
The solid thumps that Whitey bestowed on the various anatomical
parts of those at the table had the effect of scattering them in
all directions; and they were completely in the dark as to what kind
of a cyclone had struck the place. They could make no individual or
concerted resistance, and the result was that they simply tried to
get out of the way as best they could. The opening of a door by one
of the men, who was really trying to escape, let in a flood of light,
and several of the men recognized Whitey as the source of the trouble.
"Holy Mackerel!" yelled Crowley, "ef 't ain't thet ragin' catamount got
loose! Grab him, there, Ross, quick, afore he puts the whole dump on
th' bum!"
With a yell of rage and amazement, four of the ranchers fell upon
Whitey in a sort of football formation, while that young man fought and
bit and clawed and kicked as long as he could move a muscle.
As soon as the lanterns were brought in and the bruised and cursing
cowboys had disentangled themselves, Whitey was yanked to his feet in
no gentle manner; and while the irate Ross almost choked him to death,
Crowley bound him tight in a lariat much after the fashion that a
mummy is swathed in bandages. Finally, when this was thoroughly and
completely done, Ross relinquished his grip on Whitey's wind-pipe, and
stood back and wiped the perspiration from his red and bloated face.
There was a large and rapidly swelling welt over one of Ross' eyes
where Whitey's club had landed in the whirlwind assault that he had
made upon the gang. In fact, there were few of the men who were not
"decorated" in some manner, for Whitey had played no favorites in
wielding his shillalah in the dark. Crowley's lip was swollen to
several times its natural size, and it was evident that he was having
hard work to control his temper; and he, as well as the others, glared
at the boy in a way that boded ill for him.
But Whitey returned their black looks with interest; his fighting-blood
was up,--he had no regard for consequences; and had he been loose,
he would have charged all of them. One thing only was the salvation
of Whitey. Crowley caught sight of several of the men nursing their
various bruises--the welt above Ross' eye was assuming ludicrous
proportions--and Crowley laughed!
"No danger, hey?" snarled Ross. "He couldn't git loose, er nuthin'! Oh,
no! He's jes' as harmless as a ton o' dynamite!"
"No more chanct o' him gittin' loose 'n the' is o' the lamp explodin'!"
put in another, sarcastically. "Well, by Judas, 't looks t' me as tho'
the lamp done exploded!"
"Yo' all said a mouthful!" admitted Crowley, feeling of his lip, and
speaking with some difficulty. "An' I reckon mebbe I was among them
present when she blew! I ain't got real bright yet after thet wallop he
giv' me!"
"Yo're shore pretty bright, anyhow!" said Ross, making a painful
effort to sneer. "Seems to me it was yo' said he didn't need no gag
ner nuthin'! Mebbe he don't--but he's goin' to git one--one 'at 'll
shet him up fer 'bout five hundred years, an' then some! I'm tryin' to
decide whether t' bile 'im over a slow fire er t' pull 'im apart with
four hosses! I bin shin-kicked, thumb-bit, an' walloped across the
nose with a club, an' I reckon that'll be 'bout all this evenin'! The'
ain't no child-wonder goin' to put them things over onto me an' get
away with it--not while I got my health, he ain't."
"Don't look as tho' none of us 'd have much health ef this here pizen
varmint ain't took in hand pronto!" said Tucker, who had received a
crack over his sore knuckles that put his hand out of business. "I
ain't got no more scruples 'bout shootin' him up 'n I'd hev 'bout
killin' a coyote!" and Tucker tried to draw his gun with his sore hand.
"The' won't nuthin' like thet come off--not while I'm 'round!" said
Crowley, firmly. "Ef seven er twelve big, over-growed huskies like we
all is has t' call in the Sassiety fer the Pervention uv Cruelty by
Childern an' holler fer help ever' time this here half-portion shows up
in our midst, I reckon we all better make application fer admission to
the home fer crippled old wimmen an' set out onto the piazzy in rockin'
chairs, 'long with the rest on 'em!"
And Crowley looked at the battered group and laughed. He knew that
the situation was a dangerous one for the boy, and that it had to be
handled with considerable tact; and he chose one of the strongest
weapons at his command--ridicule. Keeping his eye on "One-Card" Tucker
and Pedro--the latter had not come out of the fracas unscathed, and
although he had not said anything, was a dangerous customer,--Crowley
continued: "Fur 's I'm concerned, personal', bein' only a growed man
an' him a boy, I'm calc'latin' on climbin' a tree whenever I git his
scent; but 't looks t' me 's though we all might band together an'
pertect ourselfs agin ol' Calamity, here, without cuttin' his throat er
shootin' him up when his hands is tied!
"Look here, Bud," he said, turning to Whitey, and tactfully trying to
change the subject, "how cum yo' to git loose, anyhow? I know I done
roped yo' myself, an' I ain't no amachoor--not at ropin', I ain't."
"One of our Bar O cattle that you thieves 'counterfeited' was a friend
of mine and came up and ate the rope in two!" said Whitey, with a
laugh. "How else do you suppose I could get loose?"
As Whitey said these indiscreet words Ross uttered an oath and started
to draw his gun.
"That settles it!" he said. "He's wise to the whole game, an' I'm goin'
to cook his goose right now!" And this determination seemed to meet
with general approval. Tucker and Pedro drew nearer and backed Ross up.
Crowley turned swiftly and faced them, his eyes narrowed to slits.
"Be yo' goin' to play a lone hand," asked Crowley, "er is this a
free-fer-all? I ain't noway pertic'lar, but I jes' want t' know whether
I'm foreman here er not."
"Yo're foreman, all right," said Ross, boiling with rage, "but I'm the
Boss! An' _I_ say I'm goin' to croak the little skunk!"
Crowley stood perfectly still between the three men and the boy, his
hands on his hips, and his jaw set tight.
"Le' 's see yo' try it!" he said. "I'm standin' right here an'
waitin'!"