A SURPRISE.
Avon Burnet waited several minutes after the light went out, in the hope
that it would reappear and give him an indication of its nature and
cause; but darkness continued, and he concluded that his first suspicion
was right: some warrior in riding over the prairie had halted to light
his cigar or pipe, and then ridden on to join his comrades near the
cabin.
The youth was in the situation of the mariner who finds himself adrift
in mid-ocean, without compass or rudder. Neither the sky nor the ground
gave him any help, and in order to reach the camp of his friends he
must, under Heaven, rely upon his own skill.
"There's one thing certain," he concluded, "I shall never get there
without making a break. I have secured a pretty good horse, and I may
as well turn him to account."
Heading in the direction which seemed right, he tapped the ribs of the
mustang with his heels, and he broke at once into a sweeping gallop,
which, if rightly directed, was sure to carry him to his destination in
a brief while.
Though it was too much for the young man to believe he was following the
true course, he thought it was near enough for him to discover the
variation before riding far. He ought to reach the crest of some
elevation which would so extend his view that he would catch the gleam
of the camp fire of the cattlemen.
As the pony galloped forward with that swinging gait which he was able
to maintain for hours without fatigue, the rider glanced to the right
and left, in front and rear, on guard lest he ran into unexpected
danger, and guarding against the approach of one or more of his foes.
His horse was tractable, but the rider was disturbed now and then by his
actions.
While going with his swift gait, he occasionally checked his speed so
abruptly that, had the young Texan been a less skilful equestrian, he
would have pitched over his head. At such times he pricked his ears, and
snuffed and threw up his head, as though frightened at something. But
strive all he could, Avon failed to discover the cause of this peculiar
behavior. He could neither hear nor see anything to explain it.
Our young friend was so keenly on the alert that he was quick to notice
that they were ascending quite a swell in the plain. He drew the mustang
down to a walk, and when at the highest point of the elevation, brought
him to a stand-still.
No poor sailor, floating on a plank, ever strove harder to pierce the
gloom in quest of a friendly light, than did Avon. His first glance in
the direction which seemed to him to be right failed to show that which
he longed to see. Then he slowly swept the horizon with the same
searching scrutiny.
Not the first star-like glimmer rewarded him. Blank darkness enclosed
him on every hand. It was right above, below, to the right and left and
to the front and rear.
"Well, I'll be shot if this doesn't beat everything!" was his
exclamation, when he came to understand his helplessness; "it looks as
if I would have done the folks a great deal more good if I had stayed
with them."
Slipping down from the back of his mustang, which he took care to hold
by means of the halter, Avon pressed his ear to the earth, as is the
practice of those in a similar situation.
At first he thought he detected the sounds of hoofs, but the next moment
he knew it was only fancy. The better conductor in the form of the
ground told him no more than did the gloom that surrounded him.
While thus engaged, the mustang tugged at the rope, as if wishing to
free himself. He must have felt that he was controlled by a strange
hand, but his efforts were easily restrained.
As nearly as Avon could judge, he had travelled more than two miles
since leaving the cabin, so that, provided he had followed the proper
course, he must have passed half the distance. But if that were the
case, he ought to see signs of the camp. It is the custom of the
cattlemen, when on the move, to keep a lantern suspended from the front
of the provision wagon, to serve as a guide for the rest, and this ought
to be visible for several miles to one in his elevated position.
Holding the thong in one hand, the youth now pointed his Winchester
toward the sky and discharged several barrels, in the hope that the
reports would reach the ears of the Texans and bring a response from
them. The mustang did not stir a muscle; he was so accustomed to that
sort of thing that his nerves were not disturbed.
This appeal was equally futile, and, as Avon flung himself again upon
the back of his horse, a feeling akin to despair came over him.
"Perhaps it was quite an exploit to get through the Comanche lines
without harm," he said to himself, "but of what avail? I shall wander
round and round until daylight, with no more knowledge of where I am
than if I were groping among the Rocky Mountains; and, long before the
rise of sun, the fate of Uncle Dohm and the folks will be settled."
A feeling of exasperation succeeded his depression of spirits. It was
beyond endurance that he should be so near help and yet be unable to
secure it. If he could but gain an inkling of the right course, he would
dart across the prairie with the speed of an arrow.
He had neglected no possible means of informing himself. Recalling the
direction of the wind, he strove to make use of that; but as if even the
elements had united against him, he was not long in discovering that the
wind was fitful and changing, and his attempt to use it as a guide had
much to do with his going so far astray.
The rifle was discharged again, but the listening ear caught no
response, and the conviction forced itself upon him that, instead of
journeying toward the camp, he was really further from it than when he
started.
The mustang began to grow restless once more. Avon spoke sharply, and
started him off without any attempt to guide him. To his surprise, the
steed turned to the left almost at right angles, and without any urging
on his part, broke into a canter.
"I don't understand that," said the rider; "he certainly knows more than
I do, but it is too much to expect him to carry me to my destination
without any direction from me. But he is as likely to be right as wrong,
and so I'll let him do as he chooses. You're a mighty fine animal,"
continued the youth, as the steed broke into a gallop, "but I wouldn't
give Thunderbolt for a hundred like you; he knows something, and when
I'm caught in a fix like this, he is sure to help me out."
The youth feared that the mustang was trying to return to his master.
He, therefore, brought him down to a walk, though he broke into a canter
more than once, and leaning forward, peered through the gloom, on the
alert for the first sign of danger.
"Uncle Dohm believed the Comanches meant to set fire to the house; if he
hadn't thought so, I wouldn't have been in this plight; it strikes me
that it is about time they made a start; if they do so, I will take a
hand in that little game."
At the first glow anywhere in the sky, telling of the use of the torch,
Avon would have driven his mustang thither like the whirlwind, and it is
safe to believe that his Winchester would have done more effective
service than ever before. But the bright eyes which continually scanned
every portion of the murky heavens caught no glimmer of a single star.
The mustang gave a slight whinny and rose to a canter again, but was
roughly checked by his new master.
"What the mischief is the matter with you?"
Just then, something took shape in the gloom ahead. Avon stopped his
steed and leaned forward. Yes; it was unmistakable.
There it stood--a long, low cabin, whose familiar contour told the
alarming fact that he had come back to his starting-point, and was among
the Comanches in front of his own home!