THE RATTLING BUCKBOARD
"Quick, Nort! Pull him back out of the heat and call the others!
We've got to save those men!"
"What's the matter?" Dick cried as he came up. "Aren't they out of
that furnace yet?"
"No--they're trapped inside! We've got to get them out! Billee
Dobb--is--is he dead?"
"No--he's better! He insisted on my coming over when he saw the smoke.
Thought I might be needed. No time for talk now--we've got to get
busy!"
"It's sure death to enter that!" Hawkins cried as another huge tongue
of flame shot heavenward, sending the boys reeling back. "You'll only
throw your lives away!"
"I can't help it--we must do something! We can't see them burned to
death!"
At that moment Bud felt a tug at his sleeve. He jerked around. At his
elbow was the Mexican cook. He motioned to himself, then toward the
cellar. Then he leaped forward.
"Follow him!" Bud cried. "He knows how to get in safely!"
With a rush the others were on the heels of the Mexican.
"Someone has got to stay here--help them out if we do get them!"
exclaimed Hawkins. "Nort--you and Dick wait!"
Bud was directly behind the Mexican. He saw the man disappear down
into the smoke, and taking a full breath, the boy followed. He found
himself below ground, and for a moment hesitated to get his bearings.
The air was choking, but the heat was not intolerable. The fire had
not quite reached the lower floor.
There was no time to be lost, for any minute the building might
collapse and bury them. Bud plunged on. He could see faintly now, and
he caught a glimpse of a figure in front of him, beckoning.
"Go--ahead!" the boy gasped. "Coming!"
A few steps further and he stumbled against a door. At his side was
the Mexican, pointing. Bud pushed frantically, but the door refused to
budge. Then he found the reason. It was bolted.
"You--you locked them in! You inhuman----"
He saw the Mexican shrug his shoulders. Even in the burning building
the Latin's philosophical mind did not desert him.
Bud struggled with the bolt. It stuck. He strove with all his
strength--and the door flew open. The boy stumbled in. His foot
struck a body stretched upon the floor.
He reached down and lifted the unconscious man to his shoulder. Behind
him he heard a voice. It was that of Yellin' Kid.
"Give him here!" The Kid seized the limp form and passed it to someone
at his side. "We'll get 'em out like a bucket-brigade! Pass 'em to
me, Bud!"
Through the smoke Bud groped his way. His hand encountered another
body. In a moment he lifted the man and passed him to the Kid. His
head felt as if it were bursting, but on he struggled, seeking, hands
outstretched. He passed another body out to the Kid. Another. Then
he heard a moan and turned toward it. A man lay against the wall. His
hands moved feebly, and even in the smoke and gloom Bud, could see
blood streaming from a cut on his head. The boy bent over and grasped
the man's arm. His face was within an inch of the other's.
"Delton!"
The boy's cry was involuntary. Here, under his very hands, was the man
who was the cause of their misfortunes--who had committed crimes, no
telling how many, and who had perhaps shot one of their comrades. And
yet Bud was risking his life to save this creature. Was it fair to
ask----?
A low moan came from the wretched figure. Bud looked for a long moment
at the blood-stained face. Then with a sudden heave he lifted him and
staggered to the door.
"I'll take him!" he gasped to the Kid, who had reached for the burden.
"See if there are any more!"
He heard Yellin' Kid smashing against the walls in an effort to locate
other senseless figures. Then he followed Bud.
"Can't find any more. Ask the Mex how many----"
The cook heard the inquiry and flung his arms wide, indicating that the
rest had made their escape. The Kid, gasping, plunged out into the
open.
As he gulped in great mouthfuls of the welcome fresh air the Kid heard
a sudden crash. He turned quickly. A shower of sparks and flames shot
into the air, like the eruption of a volcano. There was another roar,
and the next moment the building was in ruins. The walls had
collapsed, and nothing remained of the structure but a pile of embers.
With horror written on his face, the Kid looked wildly about him.
"Bud!" he almost screamed. "Bud--is he in there? Get him out--get
him----"
"All right, Kid--all right--" said a voice by his side. It was Bud.
The Kid stared at him for a long minute, with a suspicious moisture in
his eyes. Then he laid his hand on Bud's shoulder.
"Thought--you were--" he said in a husky voice. And he did a strange
yet a boyish thing. He withdrew his hand from Bud's shoulder and
planted it hard under the other's ribs.
"Baby!" he exclaimed. "We sure did clean up that place! Threw them
out like bags of corn. Anybody hurt bad?"
The two, their faces blackened and with clothes torn, walked toward the
group of men gathered about the injured. They saw the forms stretched
on the ground, and for a moment feared that their rescue work had been
in vain.
The boy ranchers looked at the figure upon the ground. The man groaned
and opened his eyes. He stared straight into the eyes of Bud. For a
moment hostility glared out at the boy, then Delton half closed his
eyes as though he were trying to think. The men gathered about were
quiet, watching their prisoner. He wet his lips with his tongue.
"Thanks," he murmured, and held out his hand with a feeble gesture.
Bud reached down and grasped it with a smile.
"Don't mention it," the boy said quickly. Then he straightened up and
looked over to Mr. Hawkins. "Say, are you thinking the same thing I
am?" he asked the agent.
"You mean, where are the Chinks? You bet I'm wondering that! Wait, I
believe I can find out. Hey, Mex!" The agent called to the cook who
was standing on the edge of the group. "Come here! You know him?"
He pointed to a man seated on the ground, leaning against a tree, with
one of his sleeves burned entirely away. The arm was scorched. But
with his other hand the man was calmly holding a cigarette.
The Mexican cook looked at him and then nodded briefly.
"He's your brother, isn't he?"
Another careless nod.
"Then you ask him what became of the Chinks!"
"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Dick wanted to know.
"Tried it--won't answer. I think his brother can make him talk."
This proved to be correct. The cook bent over his brother and made a
few rapid motions with his fingers. The seated man muttered something.
Again the cook's fingers moved. This time his brother answered more at
length, and the cook walked in the direction of a small shed, motioning
to the others to follow. Nort and Mr. Hawkins trailed along behind.
When they reached the shack the cook pointed to it.
"In there?" the agent asked doubtfully. It didn't seen large enough to
hold more than two men. It had probably been used to shelter a calf
when the place had been run by a farmer.
The Mexican nodded. Hawkins stepped to the small door and jerked it
open. A bundled-up mass of humanity almost tumbled into his arms, and
when they untangled themselves, there were not two Chinese, but five!
"How in thunderation did you all ever get in there?" Nort inquired
wonderingly. "Hey, you! Quiet down! We're not going to hurt you.
What do you think this is, a circus? Gee! They were like sardines!"
The Chinese were as excited as rabbits, and chattered away in evident
fear. None of them spoke English, and it was some time before they
could be made to understand that no harm was intended them.
As the agent returned to the little group of wounded and others, he saw
them centered about something and all talking at once. He quickened
his pace and in a moment saw the cause of the commotion.
"Billee Dobb!" he exclaimed. "Golly, I'm glad to see you moving again!
How did you get over here?"
"Dick and Yellin' Kid carried me," the veteran rancher answered with a
smile. "Like a silly baby! They jest lifted me up an' brung me along.
Said I had to see the last act, anyway."
"How are you feeling?" Hawkins asked anxiously. "I wanted to go to you
soon as I heard about it, but I couldn't, Billee."
"Sure, I know you couldn't. I was all right. Dick stayed by me until
I had to threaten him with a six-gun to get him to help you people.
Why, I'm feelin' O. K. now. Jest got me in the shoulder. Laid me out
for a spell--I ain't as young as I was--why, I remember the time when I
got an arrow full in the side--didn't phase me none--went right on and
got the guy that shot it--I was a man in them days--I remember----"
"Now, Billee, take it easy," Bud said gently. "Tell us all about it
later. You got lots of time. Thirsty?"
"A leettle," the rancher replied with a sigh. Bud leaned over and held
his canteen to the other's lips. Billee took a long drink and sighed
again. "Tired," he said weakly. "Want to sleep."
He lay back on the blanket. Bud drew the edges over him and motioned
the others away. "Let him sleep. Best thing in the world for him.
We'll take him back later. I don't want to move him until that wound
gets good and quiet."
"What about these others?" Nort inquired. "We want to get them out of
the way. There are five men who can't walk. Then there's two more who
managed to get out without being burned. They're here too. We've got
to get them all back some way. Can't walk them, and we haven't enough
horses. What do you think, Mr. Hawkins?"
"Let me see," the agent said. "It is a problem, Nort. Bud, have you a
suggestion? The sooner we can get the bunch to town the quicker we'll
get something hot to eat. And a little sleep wouldn't harm us any.
Think of anything, Bud?"
"Well, if--" The boy stopped and listened intently. In the distance
he heard the sounds of horses. Then as they approached nearer the
creaking noise of a wagon traveling fast came to him. The next moment
all heard a voice yelling:
"Get along there, boys! Watch it--watch it! Pete, you spavin-back
cayuse, come out of that! Quit side-steppin'! At a baby--now yore
goin'! Out of that hole! Out of it! Pete! Pete! You dog-eared
knock-kneed bleary-eyed paint, if you don't swing wide I'll skin you
alive! You, Pete!"
A rattling buckboard popped into view like the presiding genius of a
jack-in-the-box.
"It's our friend from town--from the store!" Nort exclaimed.
"Yes, and look who's with him!" Bud yelled. "It's Dad! Yea, Dad!
Golly, I'm glad you came! You're just in time!"