OLD ACQUAINTANCES.
Without hesitation the mustang was after the stubborn steer again,
showing less fear than before, though he maintained a sharp lookout
against a repetition of the attack. It may have been that the dexterous
manner in which he had just eluded the brute gave him self-confidence,
as it weakened that of the fugitive without lessening his obduracy, for
he took care that the line of his flight led straight away from his own
herd.
With the same care Thunderbolt began edging up, and, in a brief while,
his head was abreast of the haunch of the steer, and steadily gaining.
Avon now leaned over the right shoulder of his mustang, and reaching
forward and downward, seized the tail of the steer, and in a flash
twisted all that was sufficiently flexible around the horn of his
saddle. At the same instant he called sharply to Thunderbolt, who made a
vicious bound to the left, and the steer, with a short bellow of pain,
went down with fearful violence.
But he was not yet conquered. As full of energy and obstinacy as ever,
he seemed to leap to his feet as if made of rubber, but without
attempting to resent the indignity he had suffered, he continued his
impetuous flight.
The brief interval had given Avon time in which to uncoil his rope.
Instead of flinging it over the horns of the steer he dexterously caught
the loop around one of his hind legs, and jerked it taut with the
quickness of lightning. Down went the animal again, kicking and
bellowing and struggling hard to regain his feet.
The youth allowed him to succeed, when, with the help of the mustang, he
was thrown again. This was repeated several times, until it was apparent
that the captive was subdued. Finally, after receiving another fall, he
refused to try to regain his feet.
Avon now managed to loosen the loop sufficiently to slip it off the
imprisoned leg. Then, holding several coils in his grasp, he reached
over and gave the panting animal several resounding whacks on his ribs.
He smiled as the brute hastily clambered up, and, turning his nose
toward the other cattle a considerable distance off, broke into a trot
after them, still bellowing as if asking them to wait until he could
join them. No refractory urchin was ever brought to terms with more
completeness than was the defiant steer.
Now that the disciplined animal was travelling in the right direction,
his conqueror also faced Captain Shirril, who had been watching him with
much interest, while the cattle were stringing along at a rapid gallop
in the direction of the ridge beyond which lay the invisible camp of the
cowmen.
The lull in the stirring proceeding led Avon to recall the mishap of
Shackaye, who had escaped the horns of the other steer by such a narrow
chance. He cast his eye toward the body of the dead animal plainly seen
across the prairie, but the young Comanche himself was not in sight. He
concluded that he must have remounted his mustang and galloped back to
camp. Possibly he had received some injury from his fall which placed it
beyond his power to help in the work of gathering the stray members of
the herd.
Avon turned his attention to his relative, when he was astonished to
perceive fully a dozen horsemen a short distance off between him and the
ridge.
The first natural thought of the youth was that the party at the camp
had ridden out to their help, but he instantly saw that such could not
be the case, since there were so many of them, and it did not require a
second glance to ascertain that each one was a mounted Indian.
The first emotion following this discovery was that of a wonderment as
to what it could all mean. It was not remarkable that they should
encounter Indians, while crossing the section set apart especially for
their occupancy, nor was anything to be feared from them unless the
temptation to violence became unusually strong on the part of the red
men.
But there was something ominous in the sudden and singular appearance of
these dusky plainsmen. They had shown up unexpectedly, the indication
being that they had emerged from a group of hills a short distance to
the eastward. Colonel Sclevinger and his herd were beyond sight, so that
the two friends were in anything but a pleasant situation.
But while it looked as if the Indians must be friendly from force of
circumstances, their conduct justified the grave alarm Avon felt on
first seeing them. Perceiving they were discovered, they broke into a
rapid gallop beyond the unsuspicious Captain Shirril, spreading apart
like a fan, as if they meant to inclose him in the circle beyond
escape.
A shout from the young man caused his uncle to look around, when he
discovered what was going on. He instantly touched his animal with his
spurs and sent him swiftly toward Avon, who advanced to meet him.
"What does it mean?" asked the younger as they came together.
"It means mischief," was the reply. "I believe some of them belong to
the party that tried to burn our house."
"Then they are Comanches?"
"Every one of them--where's Shackaye?" abruptly asked the captain, as if
the naming of the tribe had recalled that interesting youth to his
mind.
"I shouldn't wonder if he were among them," replied Avon, with a certain
grim pleasure, as he recalled the faith his uncle had shown in the
savage in the face of Gleeson's warnings.
"Like enough," remarked the captain, watching the actions of the
warriors, who had diverged so far already that it was impossible for the
couple to escape in any direction without coming in collision with them;
"we've got to stand them off."
Without any appearance of alarm in his manner Captain Shirril slipped
down from his saddle, his nephew being but a few seconds behind him, and
the two coolly prepared to make a stand against the attack of the
Comanches.