IN THE MESQUITE BUSH.
We must not forget our young friend, Avon Burnet, who volunteered so
willingly to run every risk for the sake of helping his relatives out of
the most imminent peril of their lives.
At the moment he saw Captain Shirril start forward to smother the fire,
by throwing one of his heavy blankets over it, he lifted the heavy bolt
from its place, and leaned it against the wall at the side of the door.
Having decided on the step, he was wise in not permitting a minute's
unnecessary delay.
He stepped outside in the manner hinted, drawing the door gently to
after him. He did not do this until he saw that the interior was veiled
in impenetrable gloom.
He felt that everything now depended upon his being prompt, unfaltering,
and yet not rash. It may be said that the whole problem was to learn the
right step to take, and then to take it, not an instant too soon nor too
late. That, however, sums up the task of life itself, and the
knowledge was no more attainable in one instance than in the other.
Finding himself in the outer air, Avon stood a few seconds, striving, as
may be said, to get his bearings. He heard the trampling of horses'
hoofs, several guarded signals passing between the Indians, and was
quite sure he saw the shadowy outlines of a warrior moving within a few
paces of him.
While all this was not calculated to add to his comfort of body and
mind, it was pleasing to the extent that it proved his presence on the
outside was as yet neither known nor suspected. As my friend Coomer
would say, he was standing "With the World Before Him."
But he dare not think he was so much as on the edge of safety until he
reached the mesquite bush, whose location he knew so well, and whose
dark outlines were dimly discernible in front, and at the distance of
only a few rods.
The youth was thinking rapidly and hard. It seemed to him that the
Comanches would naturally keep the closest watch of the front of the
cabin, and, therefore, he was less liable to discovery if he made a dash
from another point.
This conclusion was confirmed by the sudden taking shape of not only the
figure of a horseman, but of a warrior on foot, who approached at right
angles, the two halting in such a manner just before him that he know it
was but momentary, and that they would come still nearer in a very brief
while.
So long as he stood erect, with his back against the side of the
dwelling, he was invisible to anyone who was not almost upon him.
Retaining this posture, and with the rear of his clothing brushing
against the building, he glided softly to the right until he reached the
corner.
At the moment he arrived there, he saw that the horseman had slipped
from his mustang, and he and the other warrior approached close to the
door, where, as it will be remembered, Captain Shirril heard them
talking together in low tones.
This was altogether too near for comfort, and Avon, with the same
noiseless movement, slipped beyond the corner of the house.
As he did so, he felt for an instant that all was over. An Indian
brushed so near that the youth could have touched him by extending his
hand.
How he escaped discovery was more than he could understand. It must have
been that the warrior's attention was so fixed upon the two figures at
the front of the house that he did not glance to the right or left. Even
such an explanation hardly makes clear the oversight on the part of one
belonging to a race proverbial for its alertness and keen vision.
Before the young man recovered from his shock, he was astounded by
another occurrence a hundred-fold more inexplicable. The profound
stillness was suddenly broken by the ringing report of a rifle on the
other side of the building, accompanied by the wild cry which caused the
listening Captain Shirril and his wife to believe it meant the death of
their devoted nephew.
While the captain committed a grave mistake, for which he was excusable,
Avon was equally at fault, and with as good if not a better reason. Not
dreaming it possible that he could have a friend near the cabin and on
the outside, he supposed the shot was fired by the captain to create a
diversion in his favor.
While such, as the reader knows, was not the case, yet it served that
commendable purpose.
The death-shriek of the stricken Comanche was still in the air, when,
assuming a crouching posture, the youth made a dash for cover. He
expected every moment that other rifles would be fired and he would be
headed off. He could hardly understand it, therefore, when he felt the
bushes strike his face, and he knew that he was among the mesquite,
without suffering harm.
He would have continued his flight, had not the sounds in front shown
that while he had been wonderfully fortunate up to this point, he had
run almost into a group of his enemies.
The dense shadows of the bushes prevented him from seeing them, else
they assuredly would have observed him, but, determined to go forward
now at all hazards, and eager to seize the flimsiest thread of hope, he
sank down on his hands and knees, anxious to continue his flight, but
waiting to learn in what direction it should be made, if indeed it could
be made at all.
There was one hope which he felt he must give up. The possibility of
finding Thunderbolt, and using the matchless steed in his flight to the
camp of the cowboys, had occurred to him more than once, though it would
seem that it was altogether too much to look for any such good fortune
as that.
"If I can only get clear of the parties, who seem to be everywhere," was
his thought, "I will run all the way to camp and bring the boys back in
a twinkling."
He could have drawn Thunderbolt to him by a single emission of the
well-known signal, but such an attempt would have been the before the
mustang, even if he was not already in their possession, and the act
would secure the capture of rider and steed beyond peradventure.
"Can it be that my flight is unsuspected?" he asked himself, while he
crouched on the ground, uncertain which way to move, and yet feeling
that something of the kind must be done.
It was useless to speculate, and, since his foes appeared to be directly
in his front, he turned to the right, and began gliding slowly forward,
fearful that the beating of his heart would betray him at every inch.
But the marvellous good fortune which had attended him thus far was not
quite ready to desert him. With a care and caution beyond description,
he advanced foot by foot until he drew a deep sigh of relief at the
knowledge that that particular group of red men was no longer in front,
but to the left and somewhat to the rear.
"If there are no more," he thought, "it begins to look as if I might
succeed after all."
But his rejoicing was premature. Not only did he catch the sound of a
horse's hoofs, but they were directly before him, and coming as
straight for the spot where he was crouching as if the animal were
following a mathematical line.
One of the Comanches was riding through the mesquite bush, and if the
youth stayed where he was he must be trampled by the mustang, unless the
animal was frightened into leaping aside and thus betraying him to his
master.
"Very well," muttered Avon, "if it comes to _that_, I know how to manage
you."
As the thought passed through his mind, he reached to his holster and
drew his revolver.
At this moment the steed halted, though he gave no sniff or sign that he
had learned of the stranger so close in front. Believing a collision
inevitable, Avon straightened up, with his weapon firmly grasped.
But before he could use it the rider slipped to the ground, and the next
moment drew a match along the side of his leggings. As the tiny flame
shone out in the gloom, he held it up in front of his face to light the
cigarette between his lips.