CHUNKY MEETS THE BANDITS
The pony had nosed its way around the base of a high rock, fetching up
on a meadow, when Stacy made the discovery that startled him. What he
saw was a group of men sitting about a cook-fire, hurriedly eating a
meal while their ponies grazed on the mountain grass some distance from
the fire.
The boy knew instantly that he had stumbled upon the bandits. He
realized, too, in those brief seconds, that he must be a long way from
the place where he was to meet his companions.
The desperadoes saw the intruder about the time that Chunky saw them.
Used to emergencies and quick action, the men sprang for their rifles,
which were standing against a boulder near at hand. Chunky also saw that
Lieutenant Wingate was not with them. Had the boy thought twice he would
have held his fire, but, as it turned out, his shots served a good
purpose. It startled the bandits, causing momentary confusion, which
gave Stacy an opportunity to head in an opposite direction, which he was
not slow in doing.
"Ye-o-o-o-ow!" howled the fat boy in a shrill, piercing voice. The shots
and the yells startled the bandits' ponies as it had their owners. The
horses threw up their heads, snorted and galloped into the mountain
meadow, fully twenty rods from the camp, while the boy threw himself on
the neck of his pony, fully expecting a shot or a volley from them, and
dashed around the base of a high rock at a perilous pace. He had no more
than reached the protection of the rock than the _pock, pock_ of rifle
bullets, as they hit the rock to his rear, reached his ears.
"Oh, wow!" howled Chunky. "I lost my biscuit." In ordinary circumstances
he would have gone back to look for the biscuit, but just now Stacy was
in somewhat of a hurry. Fortunately for the boy, it took the bandits
fully twenty minutes to round up their horses, by which time the fat boy
was far in the lead, riding like mad. He had lost all sense of
direction, but perhaps the pony had not. The little animal had taken
affairs into its own control and was laying out its own trail.
The bandits, instead of following, rode with all speed farther into the
mountains, but Chunky continued on at his same perilous pace, even
though darkness had now overtaken him.
"Whoa, Bismarck!" commanded Chunky finally, reining in his pony. "Do you
know where you're going, or don't you?"
The pony rattled the bit between its teeth, tossed its head up and down,
and uttered a loud whinny.
"You said 'yes,' didn't you? All right, if you know where you are, go
along. You surely can't know any less about it than I do."
Rider and mount resumed their journey at a somewhat slower pace, and
rode on until Stacy was brought to a sudden stop by a sharp, gruff word
of command.
"Halt!" ordered a voice just ahead of him. The pony gave a startled jump
that nearly unhorsed its rider.
"Oh, wow!" howled Chunky, and on the impulse of the moment he fired two
quick shots at the sound.
"Stop it! It's Tom Gray. Haven't you any more sense than to blaze away
before you know at what you are shooting?"
"Oh, fiddlesticks! Had you been through what I have you would shoot at
the drop of the hat. Are you lost, too?"
"Lost? I am not lost. Don't you know where you are?"
"No. I might be in the suburbs of Chillicothe for all I know."
"The camp is only a few rods away," Tom Gray informed him.
"You don't say?" wondered Chunky.
"We heard you coming, and thought it might be Mr. Ford. How did you
happen to come in over that trail?"
"Ask Bismarck. He knows all about it. I don't. Got any news about Uncle
Hip?"
"No. Of course you saw nothing of either him or the bandits."
"I not only found the robbers, but I had a battle with them," answered
Stacy.
"What's that? Don't trifle, Brown. This is a serious matter," rebuked
Tom.
"I'm telling you the truth. It was this way. I was riding along,
peaceful like, when, all of a sudden, biff, boom, bang! It seemed to me
that fifty or a hundred men burst from the bushes."
"So many as that?" laughed Tom.
"Well, something like that. I may be a dozen or so out of the way, but
you see I didn't stop to count them. I raised my trusty rifle and--well,
to make a long story short, I fired right into that howling bunch of
bandits. I suppose I emptied as many as twelve saddles."
"Wait a moment," urged one of the travelers who had joined them. "How
many times did you reload?"
"Not at all. I didn't have time."
"Captain Gray, he emptied twelve saddles, so he must have shot two men
with each bullet, as his magazine holds only six cartridges. I call that
some shooting."
"Is that so? Then I must have done as you say. Wonderful, wasn't it?"
At this juncture, Sheriff Ford rode into camp and was quickly told of
what Stacy had discovered. Mr. Ford, after a few quick questions,
realized that the boy really had stumbled on the right trail and
discovered the bandits.
"You did well, young man," he complimented. "I thought I had struck a
lead, but the trail pinched out. Can you take us to the place where you
came on those ruffians?"
"No, but the pony can, or you can follow my trail. I reckon I left a
pretty plain one. I know Uncle Hip better than you do, and if he has
been able to get away from the fellows who captured him I'll guarantee
that he will find us. He would know we wouldn't go away and leave him.
For that reason I suggest that we build a fire to attract Uncle Hip's
attention, should he be in this vicinity."
One of the men protested, saying it would be dangerous, but the sheriff
agreed with Stacy.
"We will have a fire and will post guards to protect ourselves," he
said. "We shall not be bothered by the bandits to-night; I am positive
of that. They know that the alarm has been given and that, in all
probability, a posse is already on their trail. If nothing develops
during the night--if we get no news from Lieutenant Wingate--we will
start for Gardner in the morning and organize a big searching party to
comb the mountains for him."
After all phases of the situation had been discussed, the sheriff's plan
was agreed to, and a fire was built up. It had been blazing for some
time when, in a lull in the conversation, Stacy was reminded that he had
not finished telling about his meeting with the bandits.
"Yes. You left off with shooting two men with each bullet," laughed Tom
Gray.
"In the excitement of meeting up with the villains," resumed Stacy,
without an instant's hesitation, "I wheeled the pony--spun him about on
his hind feet like a top, set him down on all fours and dashed away. We
didn't gallop, we simply dashed. You know it wasn't that I was afraid.
Anyone who knows me knows that nothing can scare me. I--"
"_Bang, bang, bang!_"
"Oh, wow!" howled the fat boy, diving head first into a clump of bushes
where he crouched wide-eyed, the chill creepers chasing up and down his
spinal column. The others of the party sprang up and snatched their
rifles, Ford kicking the blazing wood of the camp-fire aside, and Tom
Gray dousing it with a pail of water.
"Lie low, everybody, till I find out what this means!" commanded the
sheriff sharply.
"Are--are we attacked? Have the scoundrels come back?" chattered Chunky.
"Be quiet!" Mr. Ford crept out into the darkness, the others waiting in
tense expectancy listening for a rifle volley.
Tom thought the shots they had heard were signals, but no one else
believed such to be the case.
The flash of a revolver, a sharp report close at hand, was followed by a
shout from Stacy Brown and two shots from his own weapon at a shadowy
moving figure skulking behind a clump of bushes.