SHACKAYE, THE COMANCHE.
Avon Burnet was in the act of lifting his Winchester from across the
front of his saddle, when he made the discovery that, although the
strange mustang in front of him bore no rider, yet a man was on the
ground directly beyond and evidently watching every movement made by
himself.
This discovery could mean but one thing: the individual was an enemy,
and was on the point of making a hostile movement against him. He had
undoubtedly dismounted on learning of Burnet's approach and interposed
his steed between them. Despite the gloom on every hand, Avon read
aright the meaning of the almost imperceptible movement on the other
side of the saddle, and he slipped from the back of his mustang with a
celerity which, being displayed almost at the instant of the discharge
of the other weapon, looked as if it was the result of a fatal shot.
But, although the bullet so treacherously fired came near its mark, the
youth was not touched. His action was in the nick of time: a second
later could not have availed him.
He was incensed, as he had the best cause for being, and he resolved
that the miscreant should not escape him. His rifle was snatched from
its resting-place, and, stepping from behind Thunderbolt, he drew the
best bead possible on his foe.
The dexterity of the latter was marvellous. It was as if, at the very
instant of discharging his weapon, he had vaulted into the saddle, and,
wheeling the head of his horse away, sent him scurrying straight from
his intended victim.
Not only that, but, in accordance with the fashion of the frontier in
such emergencies, he flung himself forward on the neck of his animal, so
as to offer the least possible target to the other, who, if not hit
hard, was certain to return the shot.
The curious feature of the proceeding was that the man, having seen the
youth vanish from the back of his steed at the instant the gun was
discharged, did not assume that he was killed. Possibly such was his
supposition, and his hasty flight was partly due to his anxiety to place
himself beyond reach of his friends, who were likely to be drawn thither
by the sound of firing. His act in throwing himself upon the neck of his
mustang was simply in obedience to the rule which requires the
frontiersman to avail himself of every possible means of safety, even
when there is seemingly no call for it.
Despite the quickness of young Burnet, he was able to bring his
Winchester to a level only at the moment the steed was thundering out of
sight in the darkness, but he let fly three times in rapid succession,
reckless whether he struck rider or animal; but since the sound of the
hoofs still came to him, he was chagrined at the conviction that he had
missed both.
"But you haven't escaped me yet," he muttered, swinging himself into the
saddle; "there is no horse in Texas or the Indian Nation that can leave
me behind; now, Thunderbolt, run him down!"
But, while the fates had been kind to Avon, in that he escaped death by
the narrowest conceivable chance, they seemed equally well disposed
toward the object of his wrath. The boast of the pursuer as to the
fleetness of his mustang was warranted, and had the circumstances
continued favorable for only a few minutes, he would have brought his
young rider beside the fleeing steed, where the account between the two
men must have been quickly settled.
But at the very moment of starting, the forelegs of Thunderbolt sank
into a hole above the knees. His activity saved him from harm, but his
rider took a header over his ears, sprawling on the wet grass in front
with a shock that stunned him.
By the time he could rally and remount his mustang, the other was not
only beyond sight, but his listening ear could not detect the slightest
sound of the flying hoofs.
"He has escaped this time," thought Avon, as he once more resumed his
place in the saddle, "but the account is still open and must be settled
very soon."
He was right, except that the account was closed not only sooner than he
suspected, but in a manner of which he never dreamed.
Despite his alarming experience he had not lost his reckoning, and,
facing toward the bed-ground of the herd, he had ridden but a short way,
when the familiar sounds told him he was near the animals from which he
was lost only a short time before.
"They are here, Baby, just as I thought." The remark was made by
Gleeson, who loomed up in the gloom as he spoke, with his mustang on a
deliberate walk.
"I am glad of that, and, since no one beside you and me knows of our
slip last night, we'll keep it to ourselves."
"I've no objection; but didn't I hear a gun go off a few minutes ago?
What was you shooting at?"
"It wasn't _I_--someone shot at _me_."
And thereupon Avon related the particulars of his encounter with the
treacherous horseman. Gleeson listened and said nothing until he had
finished. Then, with a characteristic exclamation, he expressed his
regret that Thunderbolt should have stumbled as he did.
"Keep your eyes open," he added. "I'll do the same, and we'll get the
drop on him soon."
"Why does he want to hurt _me_?" asked Avon, "when there has never been
a word between us?"
"It's the nature of the animal," was the reply. "It wouldn't have made
any difference whether it was you or me, so he thought he had a sure
thing of it. That's what he's here for."
It was evident from these words that each of the speakers was satisfied
as to the identity of the one that had fired the well-nigh fatal shot.
Gleeson named him immediately.
"I warned the cap, when he hired that Comanche, that we would have
trouble with him. We left Texas a little short-handed, but we could have
got through well enough without him. Howsumever, Shackaye, as you
remember, rode into camp one day and asked the cap to give him a job,
and the cap done it."
"I recall your words about him, and I thought they were not justified;
but what made you so suspicious?"
The Texan uttered an impatient exclamation.
"In the first place he's an Injin, and _that_ ought to be enough. I
never seen one of his race that it's safe to trust; they'll shoot the
man that gives them a cup of water or a piece of bread. Talk about Injin
gratitude! There aint any such thing."
"What did my uncle say to your sentiments?"
"He laughed in that quiet way of his, and said maybe as I was right, but
he didn't see what we had to fear from one Injin that was in camp with
us; he reckoned we could pull his teeth before he could bite enough to
hurt."
"I am sure he will think differently when he hears my story."
"Don't tell him or anyone else a word about it. Promise me that."
"And why?" asked the surprised Avon.
"Well," was the hesitating answer, "I've several reasons: one of them is
that though you and me have fixed on the Comanche as the chap, we aint
sure of it. It looks very much that way, but it may be someone else
after all. We mustn't make any mistake, and above all, don't let
Shackaye think we suspect him."
The youth gave his promise, though in his mind there was no doubt of the
identity of the man that had come so near shooting him from his mustang.
He saw the wisdom of not allowing Shackaye to know that he was
suspected.
The cattle having been located, the couple had little to do but to hold
them where they were. This proved less difficult than at other times.
They had the help of Burrell, or Old Bronze, in the work, and the three
did little but ride back and forth, timing their course in such a way
that they skirted the large body of animals, often meeting and
exchanging greetings, but more often passing without seeming to see each
other.
Sometimes one of the cattle would show a determination to dash away from
the main body, but before he went far, a horseman was in front of him
and he was forced back. The night was too chilly for sleeping, else one
or more of the herders would have stretched out on the damp earth, with
his bridle reins so interlocked with his arm that his horse could not
wander off, or he would have fallen asleep in his saddle. When worn out
with fatigue and loss of slumber, a cowboy often rides for miles totally
unconscious of what is going on around him.