THE RELIEF OF THE RANCH
The silence was becoming unendurable when it was suddenly broken by two
sharp, ringing crashes in quick succession. Though Frank was afterward
ashamed of it, he fairly jumped and came very nearly dropping his gun.
While he was struggling with an impulse to fire at random into the
darkness there was an answering bang and he felt a tug at his elbow.
"I think it was Webster who fired first," said Harry in a low, tense
voice. "If I'm wrong, it means that the dope men have got in between us
and the house, but that isn't likely. Dad would have heard them and made
a move if they'd tried it."
Frank said nothing, and when the echoes died away among the woods there
was once more a nerve-trying silence, except for the savage barking of
the dog. It lasted a few minutes, and then Harry spoke again:
"The shots will be quite enough to put dad on to those fellows' trail. I
expect he's crawling in on them now."
The boy's whisper was hoarse with anxiety, but he made no attempt to
move and Frank wondered at his self-command. Shortly afterward there was
an unexpected change in the situation, for a faint flicker of light shot
up again from where Frank supposed the barn to be. This was puzzling,
because, while the light was rather high up and there seemed to be a
brighter blaze beneath it, Frank could not see the fire. Then the
explanation flashed upon him as the black shape of the building became
dimly visible against the uncertain glow. The smugglers had lighted a
second fire behind the barn, which now stood between them and Mr.
Oliver. Frank gasped with dismay as he realized that it was a simple and
effective trick. If the rancher moved forward hastily he must betray
himself to his enemies by the noise he made, while if he proceeded
slowly and cautiously the barn would probably take fire before he
reached a spot from which he could drive back the men, who were no doubt
piling up brushwood against the building.
"It looks as if they'd got us!" he whispered.
"No," said Harry sharply and aloud. "The thing didn't strike me, but
dad's not to be caught like that. Now, as any row we make will draw them
off him, we'll hurry up. Get up and run."
Frank did so, but although he had been longing to do something of the
kind a few minutes earlier he found that he had no great liking for the
part Harry expected him to play. It was decidedly unpleasant to feel
that in all probability he was fixing upon himself the attention of
several men who could shoot very well. He had gone only a few paces,
however, when there was a shot from behind the barn and Harry laughed--a
breathless laugh.
"That's dad. He's headed them off again!" he said.
Frank ran on, but thrilling as he was with excitement it occurred to him
that this battle was a rather intricate one, in which he was right.
These bushmen were accustomed to hunting and trailing, and did not rush
at each other's throats, shouting and firing more or less at random.
Instead, they seemed to be maneuvering for positions from which they
could prevent their opponents from making another move. Nowadays, in any
battle large or small, in which men are engaged who can handle the
terrible modern rifle, the position is the one essential thing, since
it is only the most desperate courage that can drive home an attack upon
a well-covered firing line.
Soon after the boys had heard the shot a shadowy figure slipped out from
among the fruit trees close in front of them and Frank called,
"Webster!"
The man swung around, but instead of answering he sprang backward, and
Frank realized that he had almost run into the arms of one of the
smugglers. The boys did not see where he went, though he made some
noise, and they afterward concluded that he had mistaken them for grown
men. In the meanwhile they went on again more cautiously, until at
length they were stopped by a low cry and Mr. Oliver rose from the grass
a few feet away. They were on the other side of the barn now and could
see that the fire had got hold of it. There was no doubt that some of
the logs were burning and a pile of brushwood which had been laid
against them was burning fiercely.
"It's spreading," said Harry. "Can't we put it out?"
"No," said his father with grim quietness. "It would take time and at
least a dozen wet grain bags, while it wouldn't be safe for any one to
approach the light."
There was something in his voice that startled Frank.
"You have hit one of them?" he asked.
"There's reason for believing it. Webster and I couldn't watch the four
sides of the barn, and they chose the one that seemed the most unlikely.
Still, as it happened, I got around quick enough."
"Then what are we to do now?" Harry inquired.
"Fall back on the house," replied Mr. Oliver. "I've sent Webster on, and
it's no use waiting for another of them to come out into the light."
The boys turned back with him, moving quickly but making no more noise
than they could help, and on reaching the dwelling they found Mr.
Webster standing in the kitchen. The room was dark except for the faint
glow which shone out from the front of the stove, and Miss Oliver was
still sitting where the boys had last seen her, with an open box of
cartridges at her feet. There was, however, light enough outside, for a
red glare which grew steadily brighter streamed across the clearing.
"Where's the dog?" Harry asked.
"I don't know," said Mr. Webster. "I let him out before I came along. I
expect you're going to hear him presently."
There was silence for the next six or seven minutes during which Frank
heard the ticking of a clock and the crackle of knotty pinewood in the
stove. He could see Mr. Oliver standing a little on one side of the open
window, an indistinct figure with face and hands that showed dimly
white. His pose indicated that he was holding a rifle level with his
breast, and presently as the red glow behind the fruit trees grew higher
and brighter the barrel twinkled in a ray of light. Then there was a
furious barking and Jake laughed at the sound.
"Well," he said, "they don't mean to keep us waiting."
Mr. Oliver turned to the boys. "Keep clear of this window and watch the
other one. You're not to fire a shot unless I tell you."
The barking of the dog grew louder and it was evident that the animal
was following the smugglers toward the house, but Frank could see nobody
for a while. Then he made out two or three moving shadows among the
fruit trees, but they vanished again as the light sank, and he almost
wished that they would spring out from cover and make a rush upon the
building. He could imagine them creeping stealthily nearer and nearer,
and the strain of the forced inaction became nearly unbearable. He
learned that night that it is often a good deal easier to fight than to
wait.
At last a harsh voice rose from the gloom.
"You'll have to get out, Oliver," it said. "Clear out in your sloop with
the folks you have with you and we'll let you go. You're mighty lucky in
getting the option."
"And what about the ranch?" Mr. Oliver asked.
"We'll tend to it," another man answered pointedly. "Pitch your guns
through the window and come out right now!"
"You're wasting time," replied Mr. Oliver, "I'm going to stay."
"Then you'll certainly be sorry," some one else broke in. "We've had
about enough trouble right along with you and we've come to hand in the
bill. You headed us off a good trade, you brought the revenue folks in,
and we mean to get even before we leave. Just now we'll be satisfied
with your homestead, but that won't be enough after the next shot's
fired."
It was a grim warning and what made it more impressive to Frank was the
fact that he could not see the man who uttered it. So far, the smugglers
had only revealed their presence by their voices. The next moment there
was a cry of pain or alarm and a rifle flashed.
"Kill that blamed dog," somebody ordered with an oath.
Then Mr. Oliver called to Harry, who had gone to the window across the
room.
"Can you see anybody on that side?" he asked.
"No," was the answer. "I think they're all in front."
Mr. Oliver turned to Jake. "Slip out through the back window with the
boys and work around to the stumps. From there you'll have those fellows
clear against the light. Wait until the shooting starts--and then do
what you can."
"Sure!" was the short answer, and Jake crossed the room.
Harry had already dropped from the window, and Frank promptly followed
him, feeling relieved now that he had something definite to do.
Circling around through the fruit trees they reached the first row of
stumps, one end of which ran up rather close to the house. As Frank
crouched down among the roots of one he saw the smugglers. There were
six or seven of them visible along the edge of the trees, though he
fancied that there were more of them farther back in the shadows, which
grew thinner and then more dense again as the light rose and fell.
Still, before the men could reach the house they would have to cross a
clear space where the glow was brighter, which they were evidently
reluctant to do. Their hesitation was very natural, since they had
discovered that their opponent was unusually quicksighted and handy with
the rifle.
A few moments after the boys reached the stumps a great blaze shot up as
part of the barn fell in, and Frank saw a man who seemed to be the
leader of the gang run forward, heading toward the back of the house. As
he did so Frank recognized him and Harry cried out softly, for one of
the runner's shoulders was higher than the other and he had a rather
curious gait. Then there was a shout from one of those behind.
"Plug the brute! Look out for the dog!"
A low and very swift shadow flashed across the open space behind the
man. Harry laughed hoarsely as the man went down and rolled over with an
indistinct object apparently on his back. He cried out, there was a
confused shouting, and some of his companions came running toward him,
showing black against the light. Frank held his breath as he watched. He
expected to see two flashes from the window, since Mr. Webster and Mr.
Oliver had now an easy mark, but they did not fire. The next moment he
shrank in sudden horror, for the cries grew sharper and suggested pain
and an extremity of fear. Then he felt that, regardless of the hazard,
he could almost have cheered the smugglers on as they ran toward the
prostrate man, who was struggling vainly with the furious dog. They
surged about him in a confused group, and just then, to Frank's
amazement, a pistol flashed among the firs on the edge of the bush. It
was followed by a sudden clamor, whereupon the group broke up, and
running men streamed out across the clearing. The smugglers vanished,
and Harry sprang out from among the stumps shouting wildly.
"It's Barclay! He's brought a posse with him!" he cried. "Come on. We
must choke off the dog."
When they reached the spot they tried with all their might to drag back
the furious animal. The man, who had flung his arms about his throat and
face, now lay still, with the big and powerful animal still tearing at
him. It was not until Jake arrived and partly stunned it with his rifle
butt that it let go, and then two or three breathless strangers came
running up to them. They dragged the smuggler to his feet and Frank saw
that his jacket was torn to pieces and that the back of his neck from
which it fell away was red. He did not seem capable of speaking and he
drew his breath in gasps, but the newcomers hustled him along between
them toward the house.
"Stick to him," said Harry. "He's the boss of the gang."
They thrust the man into the kitchen, where he fell into a chair and,
for the lamp was lighted now, gazed at Mr. Oliver stupidly.
"Well," he said, "I'm corralled--my gun's in the clearing." He raised
his hand to his neck and brought it down smeared red before he added,
"It's mighty lucky he didn't get hold in front."
Mr. Oliver, who made no answer, swung around and faced Mr. Barclay
standing hot and breathless in the doorway smiling at them.
"It's fortunate I came along," he said, and striding forward glanced at
the man in the chair. "We've got you at last."
"Sure!" admitted the other, still in a half-dazed manner. "I'll have to
face it--only keep off that dog."
Mr. Barclay looked around at Mr. Oliver. "I expect the boys have also
got most of his partners. Before we broke cover I sent a party to head
them off."
Harry suddenly called to Frank, who sprang toward the door, but when
they reached the bush they met the rest of the men coming back with
several prisoners. They reported that two or three had escaped and they
would have to wait for daylight before following their trail.
Half an hour later the boys sat down again in the kitchen where Mr.
Oliver and Mr. Barclay, who had been out in the meanwhile, were talking
by the stove.
"I'd an idea that these fellows might look you up, which was why I came
along as fast as I could manage," Mr. Barclay was explaining. "I think I
told you we got practically every man who was waiting for the schooner
at the inlet, and the two or three who escaped to-night won't count. In
the meanwhile I'd arranged at two or three different places to seize
everybody we suspected of having a hand in the thing, and if the boys I
left that work to have been as lucky as we are we can take it for
granted that we have put an end to the gang. There's enough against the
fellow the dog mauled to have him sent up for the rest of his life." He
broke off and turned to the boys. "The schooner will be sold by auction,
and if you are inclined to leave the matter in my hands you can give me
a written claim for salvage services."
"How much should we put down?" Harry asked.
"I would suggest three thousand dollars," responded Mr. Barclay with
twinkling eyes. "It doesn't follow that you'll be awarded the whole of
it, but it's generally admitted that one shouldn't be too modest in
sending in a claim. If you two become partners you could buy a ranch."
Harry turned with a smile to Frank. "Well," he said, "if you're willing,
we might consider it in a year or two."
Then one of the men came in to report that the prisoners had been
secured in the stable. Mr. Barclay soon dismissed him with a few brief
instructions and sat down again, lighting a cigar.
"I don't know that there's much more to tell," he said. "When we were a
mile or two off the cove we saw the blaze of your barn, and that gave us
an idea of what was going on. We sent the steamer along as fast as she
could travel, but I broke my posse up to surround the clearing as soon
as we got ashore. Then we lay by and waited so as to get as many of the
gang as possible. They were too busy watching you to notice any little
noise the boys made, and on the whole I think we can be content with
this night's work."
"Have you decided what led up to the shooting of that man in the
schooner's cabin?" Harry asked.
"That," said Mr. Barclay, "is a matter for the criminal court, but I've
made a few investigations, and my notion is that the fellows lost their
nerve when it became evident that somebody had given them away. They
suspected one another, and that led to trouble, while I've no doubt that
the Chinaman held most of the secrets of the gang. He'd be a particular
object of suspicion, but from what I can gather there was a general row
during which she jibed and got ashore. There was, at least, one other
man badly hurt, but they seem to have gone off in the same boat. The
vessel probably struck on an outlying reef and came off almost
immediately on the rising tide."
Frank went out soon afterward and sat down near the house. The fire had
almost burned out and a light wind which had sprung up drove the last of
the smoke the other way. The air that flowed about the boy was sweet and
scented with the fragrance of pine and cedar. All around him the bush
rose in somber masses and a faint elfin sighing fell from the tops of
the tall black trees. It was the song of the wilderness and the wild and
rugged land had steadily tightened its hold on him. As he sat and
listened he was certain at last that he would never leave it to go back
to the cities.