SONG SHOOTS A WOLF.
Early one morning the broncho boys were startled out of their beds by
the double explosion of a shotgun, followed by excited yells and screams
of agony.
"That Chinaman has shot somebody," thought Ted, as he rapidly skipped
out of bed and pulled on his trousers.
In the living room he met all the boys, as scantily clad as himself,
hurrying out to see what the noise was all about.
They could hear Song behind the house screaming in Chinese at the top of
his voice, and in an ear-splitting falsetto, which showed that he was
tremendously excited.
Thither they rushed, and for a moment the ludicrous scene far
outbalanced the seriousness of what had happened.
On the ground was a young fellow about seventeen years of age. He was
writhing with pain, and the blood was oozing through his clothes in
fifty places.
"Ha, ha!" shrieked Song. "Me shootee wolf, turnee into man light away.
Ha, ha, me allee same plenty smart man, likee magician."
"Yes, you're a hot magician," said Bud; "You've made this feller second
cousin ter a porous plaster. That's what you've done."
"Who is he, Song?" asked Ted.
"Me no savvy him. Me comee out chicken house getee eggs fo' bleakfast. I
cally gun, shotee plenty wolf all samee Mliss Stella say."
"But this is not a wolf."
"All samee wolf. I open chicken house do'. I see wolf. Plenty glowl at
Song. I no likee gun. Shutee my eye. Pull tligger, an' gun goee off. All
samee wolf no mo' glowlee, him yellee like thundeh. When smokee blow way
wolf gonee, all samee man comee. I plenty magician, I thinkee."
Ted looked in the chicken house, and on the floor lay the dried hide of
a big gray wolf.
Now he understood. The message had come the third time from the Flying
Demons.
"Kit, run around to the front door and see if there is a message there
for us from our friends the Demons."
In a moment Kit was back, holding a piece of paper in his hand.
Ted took it from him, and read it.
It was the third and last warning. It said:
"TED STRONG: We have warned you twice before to leave this part of
the country, but you have made no move to do so. This is the third
warning. If you are not away from here in a week the vengeance will
fall upon you. Beware!
"THE FLYING DEMONS."
"Did you bring this?" asked Ted, of the wretched youth, who still lay
upon the ground groaning from his numerous wounds.
There was no reply. The fellow could only toss his head from side to
side and rub his legs, into which the bulk of the shot had been fired by
the excited Chinaman.
"You won't answer, eh? Well, we'll find a way to make you. I'm glad
you've given us a week," said Ted, laughing. "That will at least give us
time to hold our round-up and festivities."
"Oh, if I live through this I'll never go into anything like it again,"
moaned the youth upon the ground.
"Here, stand up," said Ted to him. "You're not badly hurt. You're only
stung, twice. Get on your feet and we'll see what we can do for you.
You're a long way from dead yet. What's your name?"
"Jack Farley. Oh, if I could only be sure that I wasn't going to die!"
exclaimed the youth.
He was the young fellow Billy Sudden had spoken about.
"We can't tell how badly you are hurt until you get up," said Ted.
"Rise, and we'll go into the house and examine your wounds."
Slowly young Farley got to his feet, but when he tried to walk he
uttered a howl of pain, and sank down again.
"Yellow all through," said Ben, in a tone of disgust.
"Ever have about three ounces of duck shot pumped into yer system
through yer hide?" asked Bud.
"Never had."
"Then yer don't know all ther joys o' life. I've had one ounce shot
inter my leg, an' if ther contents o' two shells gives double ther pain
one does, then excuse me. An' mine wuz only snipe shot, at that."
"Pick him up, boys, and lay him on the lounge in my room," said Ted.
"I'll take a look at him after a while, meantime some of you watch him
to see that he doesn't get away. We need him for evidence."
When Bud and Ben had carried the wounded boy into Ted's room and laid
him on the lounge, Bud stood over him regarding him with interest.
"I sorter envy yer, kid," he said at last.
"You can have 'em, but I don't see why you envy me," said Farley.
"I wuz thinkin' how happy you'll be all through these lonesome winter
evenings, pickin' ther shot out o' yer legs."
When Farley had been carried into the house, Ted called Kit to him and
said:
"Kit, I wish you'd ride over to Suggs' ranch and tell Billy Sudden that
his protégé is over here with his hide peppered with bird shot, and ask
him to ride over and take a look at him."
During breakfast they related to Stella the story of Song's wolf hunt in
the chicken house, and the result.
Song was as proud as a peacock, and wore "the smile that won't come off"
as he flitted around the table waiting on every one.
"Say, Missee Stella," he said, "Song all samee one cowbloy now, eh? What
you sayee?"
"Yes, Song, you have certainly followed instructions. You got your wolf
that time, sure. How you likee shootee?"
"No likee, Missee Stella. Makee too much noisee, all samee too much
plenty fiahclackers. Kickee like blazes. Plitty near knockee arm outee
Song."
The boys stripped Farley after breakfast, and found his legs in pretty
bad condition. They looked as if Song's gun had been loaded with
smallpox, and all of it had lodged in the lad's legs.
"Boys, we'll have to take relays in picking the shot from our first
victim," said Ted. "There's too much work here for one man."
"He's a turrible-lookin' demon now with a hide full o' shot. Ther
punctured demon of Demonville! Say, kid, I'd hate ter laugh at yer, but
yer a sight. Why didn't yer fix it so's them two charges o' shot would
hev been distributed among ther gang? Then yer could sit down o'
evenings an' pick shot out o' one another instid o' plottin' agin' ther
whites."
"Let him be, Bud, he's having all he can do to think about these shots,
as it is. The things for us to do now is to pick them out of him."
"We'll let him count 'em ez they come out. That'll help take his mind
off his troubles, but he'll hev ter hev a great head fer figgers."
They went to work on him with their penknives, as most of the shot were
just beneath the skin. But it was painful enough, at that, and every
time a shot came out Farley groaned deeper. While they were engaged in
this, to them, pleasing occupation, Billy Sudden arrived.
"Hello, kid," he said to Farley. "So you got it at last. I could have
told you to keep away from Ted Strong and his bunch. They're bad
medicine for a herd o' mavericks like you to graze with. You tackled the
wrong outfit. They're too many fer you, and if you'll all take a fool's
advice you'll keep away, or else some of you will be looking through a
griddle in a door up at the penitentiary."
Farley made no reply, only hid his face and groaned at every extracted
shot.
"Say, kid, what about this gang you belong to?"
The boy shook his head.
"D'ye mean to say you're not going to tell me about it?"
The boy nodded.
"What's the reason you won't?"
"The oath."
"Slush with the oath. You had no business to take it. What'll the home
folks think when I tell them about this. Shot by a Chinaman in the
chicken house at dawn!"
Billy paused to let the ignominy of it sink in. It did sound pretty bad
and mean and cheap. There were no heroics in this, such as Farley had at
first considered his rôle.
He hid his face on his arm, and his body shook. Billy had probed deep
into his pride.
"Well, come on," said Billy. "This is no time for a conspirator to do
the baby act. I suppose you thought it was to be a spotlight scene where
you stood in the center doing the heavy stunt, and all the rest sat on
the bleachers and applauded. By gee! Peppered by a Chinaman, and with
snipe shot, at that."
"Oh, quit it!" said Farley. "I know I was a chump for sticking with
those fellows, but I needed the money."
"What money?"
"My share of the--"
"What?"
"Oh, nothing."
"Yes, there is something. What robbery was it you shared in?"
"I didn't steal anything."
"I suppose not. You did the dirty work of being lookout, or something
like that, and they threw you the bone while they kept the meat and fat,
eh?"
"What shall I do with him?" asked Ted.
"Keep him locked up as a hostage. That may bring those young fools to
their senses," said Billy. "I'm disgusted with him for not making a
clean breast of the whole foolish business, and if it wasn't for his
sister, I'd toss him up in the air and forget him."
The rest of the day was spent in picking shot out of Farley, and by
evening he was relieved of the last one.
"We'll put him in that empty room at the corner of the house, and take
turns watching him through the night," said Ted.
Until bedtime Farley sat in the living room with the rest of them, and
they were unusually guarded in their conversation.
When it came time to retire Farley was conducted to the room which was
to be his prison, and it fell to Carl to take the first watch, and to
call Ben at one o'clock.
In the room there was a lounge and a pair of blankets for Farley, a
table and a lamp, and a chair for the watch.
"Whatever you do, don't go to sleep, Carl," said Ted. "The reason I'm
putting you on the first watch is because you're such a sleepyhead."
"Don'd vorry aboud me," said Carl, with a yawn. "I pet you I vas der
sleepinglessness feller in der whole bunch. If he gets avay on my vatch
it vill not be pecause I don'd sleep."
"I guess you mean all right, but I swear I can't understand you. Only
keep awake."
"Oh, yah; I avake keeping all der time."
Carl sat in the chair watching his prisoner, and soon saw Farley's chest
heaving regularly and heard his deep breathing as he slept. Then things
seemed to waver and fade away.
Carl started up at hearing some one beating on the door, and sat rubbing
his eyes. It was broad daylight.
"All right, I'll get up pooty soon yet. Is preakfast retty?"
"Here, open the door. This is Ted."
"Vait a minute."
Carl staggered sleepily to the door and unlocked it.
"Where is your prisoner?" asked Ted, stalking into the room, and looking
at the open window.
"My vat? Ach, Gott in himmel, vat haf I dided? I am schoost coming
avake. He iss gone! I haf slept on vatch. I am foreffer disgraced. Kill
me, Ted! I haf no appetite to live any more alretty," cried Carl.
Ted had been angry at discovering the escape of Farley, for he had
conceived a plan to use him against Creviss. He had risen early, and
when he found that all the boys were in bed except Carl, he immediately
suspected the truth.
But Carl's despairing manner turned him from anger.
"Never mind, Carl," he said. "It was my fault for putting you on watch.
You were not cut out for a watchman. Or, perhaps, you were, according
to the funny papers, but not of prisoners."
During breakfast Carl was compelled to endure the jokes of the boys at
his failure to guard the prisoner, which he did with a lugubrious
countenance; then, at a signal from Ted, the subject was dropped.
About ten o'clock Billy Sudden rode up to the ranch house.
There was something in his manner that betokened news of importance, and
he strode unbidden into the living room, where Ted was sitting at his
desk.
"Where's the kid?" he asked abruptly.
"Who, Farley?" asked Ted, looking up from his work.
"Yes."
"Skipped."
"What?"
"I said skipped."
"Great Scott! I'd give a hundred dollars if he hadn't."
"Why?"
"What time did he get away?"
"Don't know, exactly. Carl was watching him, but he fell asleep almost
as soon as they were in the room together, and didn't wake up until six
o'clock this morning, and Farley was gone. No one knows how he got away
or at what time. It might have been any time. He probably woke up in the
night and saw that Carl was dead to the world, and opened the window,
dropped to the ground, and hit the trail. That's all I know about it.
But what makes you so anxious about it?"
"Then you haven't heard the news?"
"Guess not. What is it?"
"The First National Bank was robbed last night."
"Great guns! Creviss' bank! That's the United States depository!"
"The same."
"What are the details?"
"I rode through town this morning on my way over here to see if being
confined for the night wouldn't make the kid talk, when I saw a bunch of
men standing in front of the bank. I butted in and asked what the
excitement was, and they told me that the bank had been robbed."
"But how?"
"That's what nobody knows. When the cashier, Mr. Henson, got to the bank
this morning everything apparently was all right. The doors and windows
were fastened, and there was no sign anywhere that the bank had been
forcibly entered. Of course, he didn't look at these things first. He
went to the vault and opened it at the proper time and examined its
contents casually. Everything seemed to be as usual. But when, a few
minutes later, he went to get out the currency, it was all gone. He
hadn't counted up when I left there, so no one knows the exact amount,
but it was large."