“Coyote Bill!” I kept repeating to myself. That name had probably been
given to him by the Texans on account of his being so sneaking and
sly--so sly that none of the men he had robbed had ever been able to
see him. What his other name was I didn’t know. While I was turning
the matter over in my mind Bill came around the corner. I confess
he did not look like so dangerous a fellow, and if I had met him on
the prairie and been in want, I should have gone to him without any
expectation of being refused. He looked surprised to see me sitting
there alone.
“Where are they?” he asked, in a whisper.
“Whom do you mean?” I enquired, being determined, if I could, to answer
no questions except those he had on his mind. How did I know whom he
referred to when he spoke of “they,” and wanted to know where they
were?
“I mean the old man and Bob, and all the rest of them,” he added. “I
thought they were here with you.”
“Tom and Elam have gone off riding,--there they go,--and Mr. Davenport
and Bob have gone into the ranch to have a nap. I can’t steal the
pocket-book now, even if I wanted to, for Bob is keeping guard over it.
It is true he don’t know what there is in it, but he is keeping watch
of his father all the same.”
“Look here, Carlos,” said Bill, coming up close to the porch, “do you
ever have charge of the old man in that way?”
“In what way?”
“Well, I haven’t been able to do any business in almost a year, and I
am getting heartily tired of it.”
“What business do you mean?”
“Aw! Go on, now. You know what I mean. I can’t steal cattle that are
half starved, for I wouldn’t make anything out of them if I did. I am
getting impatient, and my boss is getting impatient, too.”
“Well?” said I, when he paused.
“I want you to see if you can’t secure possession of that pocket-book
by to-morrow night,” said Bill, in a quiet way that had a volume of
meaning in it. “You see, it isn’t the will that Henderson cares for.
The cattle are pretty well gone up, and there won’t be a third of them
left when we get to Trinity. What he cares most about is the bonds. If
he can get them in his hands he will be all right.”
“Why, Coyote Bill----” I began.
I stopped suddenly, with a long-drawn gasp, for I had done the very
thing I was willing to bet Elam I would not do. Bill started and looked
at me closely, and one hand moved to the butt of his revolver. My heart
was in my mouth. Coyote Bill’s face was a study, and I was sure my slip
of the tongue had hit him in a vital spot. Understand me, I didn’t
speak his name knowing what I was doing, but because I couldn’t help
myself. The idea that I was to steal that pocket-book at twenty-four
hours’ notice was more than I could stand, and I blurted out the
first words that came into my mind. I never had had much practice
in studying out the different emotions that flit across a person’s
mind, but I was sure that in Coyote Bill’s expression both rage and
mirth struggled for the mastery--rage, that I had suddenly found out
his name since I had left him; and mirth, because I, an unarmed boy,
should stand there and call him something which he didn’t like too well
anyway. So I resolved to put a bold face on the matter.
“See here, Bill----” was the way I began the conversation.
“Who told you that was my name?” he asked.
“Why, Bill, I have done nothing but hear about you and your doings
since I have been here,” I answered. “You certainly do not pretend to
say you are not what I represented you to be?”
“Well, that’s neither here nor there,” said he, taking his hand away
from his pistol. “You are a brave lad; I will say that much for you,
and you ought to be one of us. What’s the reason you can’t steal the
pocket-book by to-morrow night?”
I drew a long breath of relief. The worst of the danger was passed,
but the recollection of what might be done to me after a while made me
shudder. I had half a mind to slip away that very night, but I knew
that Elam would scorn such a proposition. He meant to stay and see the
thing out. I tell you I wished he stood in my boots, more than once.
“Because Bob is keeping guard over it,” I said. “He don’t know what
there is in it, I tell you; but he has been made to understand that
there is something in it that concerns himself, and so he is keeping an
eye on it.”
“Does he know that he is in danger of losing it?”
“Yes, he does; but he don’t know where the trouble is coming from.”
“Well, you have got hold of my name, and I wish you hadn’t done it,”
said Bill, looking down at the ground and kicking a chip away with his
foot. “Be careful that you don’t use it where anybody else can hear it.
Perhaps I can find some other way to get it. Do you sleep very sound?”
I don’t know what reply I made to this question, for it showed me that
Bill was about to attempt something after we had retired to rest. I
made up my mind that he would try it too, but whether or not he would
succeed in getting by Elam was a different story altogether. I made it
up on the spur of the moment to take Elam into my confidence. He was
a fellow who could remain awake for three or four nights, and in the
morning he would be as fresh and rosy as though he had enjoyed a good
night’s sleep.
“You want to sleep pretty soundly to-night, whatever you may do on
other occasions,” said Bill, in a very decided manner. “I shan’t be
here in the morning.”
He went off, whistling softly to himself, and I went back to my chair
and sat down. They told us, when we first talked of going to Texas,
that we would find things very different there, and indeed I had found
them so. In Denver, if a man had betrayed himself in the same careless
manner that Coyote Bill had done, he would have been shot on sight;
but here were three boys who knew what Bill had done, some of whom
had the reputation of being quick to shoot, and they were afraid to
do a thing. It was the man’s fame as a quick shot that stood him well
in hand. When I came to think of it, I was disgusted with myself and
everybody else. If anyone had told me that I would turn out to be such
a coward I would have been very indignant at him.
The hot day wore away, and presently I saw Tom and Elam coming back.
They could not stay away when they knew that something was going on
behind their backs. Mr. Davenport and Bob came out; the cook began to
bestir himself, the dishes rattled in the kitchen, and in a little
while they told us that supper was ready. Of course we had to be as
neat here as we had anywhere else, and Elam and I found ourselves at
the wash-basin. There was no one in sight.
“Elam,” said I, in an excited whisper, “whatever you do, you mustn’t go
to sleep to-night!”
“Sho!” answered Elam. “What’s going on to-night?”
“Coyote Bill has made up his mind to steal that pocket-book. He says
that the bonds are all he wants out of it. He means some mining
stocks, I suppose.”
“Well,” exclaimed Elam, burying his face in the towel, “how is he goin’
to work to get it?”
“He intends to come in after we are all asleep and feel under the
pillows for it. He asked me if I slept rather soundly at night, and I
don’t know what answer I made him; but I thought of you and concluded
you could keep awake. I have found out, too, that his name is Coyote
Bill, just as you said it was.”
“What did I tell you?” said Elam, delighted to know that he had found
out something about the man. “I knowed that was the way I would act if
I was him. What did he say when you told him?”
“He told me I was a brave boy and ought to be one of ‘us,’ as he
explained it. Does he mean that I ought to belong to his gang and help
him steal cattle?”
“Sure! You couldn’t be one of him and help do anything else, could you?
How do you reckon he is going to come in?”
“I don’t know. You will have to keep wide awake and find out.”
“I’ll bet you I don’t sleep a wink to-night. If he thinks he can get
away with that pocket-book let him try it; that’s all.”
“But I don’t see why he should pick me out as a brave boy and want me
to join his gang.”
“Well, Carlos, I will say this fur you,” said Elam, putting the towel
back on its nail and rolling down his sleeves: “You have a most
innercent way of talkin’ when you get into danger, an’ a man don’t
think you know that there is danger in it.”
“Nonsense! I have been afraid that Bill would shoot at any minute. I am
really afraid of him.”
“Old Bill doesn’t know it, an’ that’s what makes him so reckless. I
will go further an’ say you have a sassy way of talkin’. Now, you
finish washin’ an’ I’ll go in an’ set down. Remember, I shan’t go to
sleep at all to-night.”
I was perfectly satisfied with the assurance. You see it would not do
for me to lie awake and halt Bill when he came in for fear that he
would accuse me of treachery; but with Elam, who wasn’t supposed to
know anything about the case, it would be different. I didn’t think
that Elam’s explanation amounted to anything at all. In fact, I did not
see how I could have talked in any other way. If I had become excited
and reported the matter to Mr. Davenport there would have been hot work
there in the cabin, for I didn’t suppose that any of my companions
would have let Coyote Bill work his own sweet will on me. Having
finished washing I went into the cabin and sat down. Bill was there,
and he was devoting himself to the eatables before him like any other
gentleman. I was astonished at the man’s nerve.
Supper over, we went out on the porch, lighted our pipes, and devoted
two hours to talking. The most of the conversation referred to the
time when the cattle would be along and we should get ready to march
to Trinity. Everybody suspected that there was going to be a fight up
there before our cattle would be allowed water, and we were a little
anxious as to how it would come out. We expected to fight the sheriff
and his posse and all the Texas Rangers that could be summoned against
us; and we knew that these men were just as determined as we were. They
were fighting for the crops upon which they had expended so much labor,
and it wasn’t likely that they were men who would give way on our
demand.
“Let them take a look at our cattle,” said Bob. “That will stop them.
The man has yet to be born who can resist the sight of their terrible
sufferings.”
“Those men up there would look on without any twinges of conscience if
they saw the last one of our herds drop and die before their eyes,”
returned his father. “Here’s where we expect to catch them on the fly:
We shall be a mile or so behind our cattle, which will be spread out
over an immense amount of prairie, and when those cattle get a sniff
of the fresh water, fences won’t stop them. It is the momentum of our
cattle that will take them ahead.”
I certainly hoped that such would be the case, for I knew there would
be some men stationed along the banks of that stream who were pretty
sure shots with the rifle. I didn’t care to make myself a target for
one of them.
The conversation began to lag after a while, and finally one of the
cowboys remarked that sleep had pretty near corralled him and he
reckoned he would go in and go to bed; and so they all dropped off,
Elam giving my arm a severe pinch as he went by. There was one thing
about this arrangement that I did not like. Bill always made his bunk
under the trees in the yard. He preferred to have it so. He had been
accustomed to sleeping out of doors in the mines, and he was always
made uneasy when he awoke and found himself in the house, for fear that
he would suffocate. When it rained he would gladly come into the ranch
and stay there for a week, if it stormed so long. He gathered up the
blankets and the saddle which Mr. Davenport had loaned him for a bed,
bade us all a cheerful good-night, and went out to his bunk. There were
three of us who knew better than that. His object in sleeping out of
doors was, in case some of the men he had robbed found out where he
hung out, that he might have a much better chance for escape.
“He’s a cool one,” I thought, as I went in, pulled off my outer
clothes, and laid down on my bunk. “I’ll see how he will feel in the
morning.”
I composed myself to sleep as I always did, and lay with my eyes
fastened on the door; for I knew that there was where that rascal Bill
would come in. Both the doors were open, and Elam wouldn’t have the
creaking of hinges to arouse him. I laid there until nearly midnight,
and had not the least desire to sleep, and all the while I was treated
to a concert that anyone who has slumbered in a room with half a dozen
men can readily imagine. Such a chorus of snores I never heard before,
and what surprised me more than anything else was, the loudest of
them seemed to come from Elam’s bunk. Was my friend fairly asleep? I
sometimes thought he was, and was on the point of awakening him when
I heard a faint noise at the rear door--not the front one, on which
my gaze was fastened. My heart beat like a trip-hammer. Slowly, and
without the least noise, I turned my head to look in that direction,
but could see nothing. All was still for a few seconds, and then the
sound was repeated. It was a noise something like that made by dragging
a heavy body over the floor; then I looked down and could distinctly
see a human head. Bill had not come in erect as I thought he was going
to, but had crawled in on his hands and knees, intending, if he were
heard, to lie down and so escape detection. Slowly he crawled along
until he came abreast of Elam’s bunk and not more than six feet from
it, and then there was a commotion in that bunk and Elam’s voice called
out:
“Who’s that a-comin’ there? Speak quick!”
An instant later, and before Bill had time to reply the crack of a
revolver awoke the echoes of the cabin, and a short but desperate
struggle took place in Elam’s direction. Then the pistol cracked again,
and in an instant afterward the intruder was gone. It was all done so
quickly that, although I had my hand on my revolver under my pillow, I
did not have time to fire a shot.
“Elam!” I cried; “what’s the matter?”
“Well, sir, that’s the quickest man I ever saw,” stammered Elam. “I had
two pulls at him, but he knocked my arm out of the way and got safe
off.”
“Did you hit him?” I asked, knowing how impossible it was for him to
miss at that distance.
“No, I didn’t. He hasn’t had time to get fur away, an’ I say let’s
go after him. I wish he would give me another chance at him at that
distance. I’d hit him sure.”
By this time the whole cabin was in an uproar. All started up with
pistols in their hands, and all demanded of Elam an explanation. He
gave it in a few words, adding:
“I knew mighty well that the fellow didn’t come in here fur no good.
That’s the way I should have done if I had been him. He’s out there
now, an’ I say let’s go after him.”
“The villain was after my pocket-book,” said Mr. Davenport, in evident
excitement. “He wouldn’t have got more than five or ten dollars, for
that is all there is in it. Lem, I want you and Frank to listen to me,”
he added, seizing the nearest cowboy by the arm. “I have been keeping
’Rastus Johnson here until I could find out----”
“’Rastus Johnson! That aint ary one of his names,” shouted Elam. “His
name is Coyote Bill!”
That was all the cowboys wanted to hear. In the meantime we had thrown
off the blankets, and jumping to our feet followed the cowboys out of
the ranch--all except Mr. Davenport, who, knowing that the night air
wasn’t good for him, stayed behind to keep guard over his pocket-book.
I followed the cowboys directly to the place of Bill’s bunk, but when
we got there it was empty. He and his six-shooters were gone. I tell
you I breathed a good deal easier after that.
“Coyote Bill!” said Frank, leaning one hand against the tree under
which the fugitive had made his bunk. “I wondered what that fellow’s
object was in coming here and passing himself off for ’Rastus Johnson,
and now I know. Cattle is getting so that it doesn’t pay to steal
them, and he was here to get the old man’s pocket-book.”
“And how does it come that Elam knows so much about him?” asked Lem.
“You are a stranger in these parts, Elam.”
“I know I am; but that’s just the way I should have acted if I was
him,” returned Elam, who began to see that he had made a mistake in
claiming to know the man. “I said his name was Coyote Bill, an’ I
struck centre when I did it.”
“Mr. Davenport gave us the secret history of that pocket-book, and
wanted Tom and me to swear to what he told us,” I interposed, fearing
that things were going a trifle too far. “That man tried to hire me to
steal that pocket-book to-night, and that was the way Elam came to get
a shot at him.”
“I didn’t get nary a shot at him,” exclaimed Elam. “I pulled onto him
an’ he struck up my arm.”
“Let us go in and talk to Mr. Davenport about it,” said I, seeing that
all I said was Greek to the cowboys. “He will tell you as much of the
story as I can.”
“Did you know anything about this, Bob?” asked Frank.
“Not a word. I am as surprised as you are to hear it,” said Bob.
“Coyote Bill!” said Lem, gazing into the woods as if he had half a mind
to go in pursuit of the man. “What reason have you for calling him
that?”
“Because that’s the way I should have acted if I was him,” answered
Elam.
“It wouldn’t pay to go after him,” said Frank. “He has laid down behind
a tree and can see everything we do. Let’s go in and talk to the old
man about it.”
All this conversation was crowded into a very short space of time. We
hadn’t been out there two minutes before we decided that it would be a
waste of time to pursue the outlaw, and that we had better go in and
see what Mr. Davenport had to say about it, and I for one was very glad
to get away from his bunk. Of course Bill was in ambush out there, and
how did I know but that he had a bead drawn on me at that very moment?
We followed the cowboys into the house, and we found Mr. Davenport
sitting up on the edge of his bed.
“You didn’t get him; I can see that very plainly,” said he, as we
entered. “I wish I had never heard of him in the first place.”
“You have given us a history of that pocket-book, sir,” said I,
beginning my business at once, “and I beg that you will repeat it for
the benefit of the cowboys. Frank and Lem haven’t said much, but I
believe from their silence that they would like to know something about
it.”
“Elam, how did you find out that his name was Coyote Bill?” enquired
Mr. Davenport. “That name has been bothering me more than a little
since you went out.”
“Perhaps you will allow me to explain that,” said I. “When I told Elam
the history of that pocket-book, which I did as soon as you and Bob had
gone into the ranch to have a nap, he jumped at the conclusion. He said
there wasn’t another man in this part of the country who would have the
cheek to act that way.”
“Have I got to go all over that thing again?” groaned Mr. Davenport.
“Bob, my first word is to you. I shall have that off my mind, anyway.
You are not my son.”
It was dark in the cabin, but I could tell by the tones of his voice
how great an effort it was for him to say it. Then he went on and
told the story very much as he had told it to me, and when he got
through I did not hear anything but the muttered swear words which the
cowboys exchanged with each other. It was their way of expressing utter
astonishment.