FLAG OF TRUCE.
There was nothing to cause apprehension on the part of the cowboys in
camp, when they heard the report of a single rifle from beyond the ridge
over which Captain Shirril, Avon Burnet, and the young Comanche Shackaye
had ridden in pursuit of the cattle that went astray the night before.
One of the party might have found a chance to bring down something in
the nature of game, which is liable to be encountered at every part of
the Great Cattle Trail, from the outskirts of the capital of Texas to
its termination in the State of Kansas.
But when, soon after, the shots came thick and fast, it was apparent
that something unusual was going on.
"There's mischief afoot!" called out Gleeson, "and that Comanche is at
the bottom of it. Come, boys!"
There was not an instant's hesitation on the part of any member of the
company. The cattle that were quietly browsing on the succulent grass
were left to wander off or stampede themselves, or do whatever they
chose, while the cowboys, including Nunez, the Mexican, swung into their
saddles and sped away on a dead run toward the ridge.
Before they reached it the missing cattle came up from the other side
and appeared on the crest. The advent of the steer that had suffered so
severely at the hands of Avon Burnet imparted a mild panic to the
others, so that the whole lot were on a trot. The horsemen were in too
great haste to turn aside, and the animals, therefore, swerved to the
right and continued their brisk gait in the direction of the main herd.
As has been said, every mustang was running at the highest speed, but
the impetuous Gleeson maintained his place in front, and thundered up
the slope as if his own life were at stake. Before he struck the crest,
he rose in his box-stirrups and peered over at the plain beyond.
"Just what I expected!" he exclaimed, "and that Shackaye has done it!"
It was not necessary to explain, for, before he could have done so, his
comrades caught sight of the stirring scene which thrilled their leader.
Captain Shirril and his nephew were standing off a party of dusky
assailants, who were pressing them hard. The two mustangs were plainly
seen, while the flashes of the Winchesters from behind them told the
story as eloquently as if the cowboys were actual participants in the
affray.
Not another word was uttered by the latter, but pressing their spurs
deep into the flanks of their horses they sent them with arrowy haste
straight toward the spot. They had hardly reached the base of the slope
when they held their breath, for they saw the crisis had come. The red
men were closing around the two combatants as if they realized that
whatever was to be accomplished must be done within the succeeding few
seconds.
Half the distance was passed, when the Comanches were observed scurrying
toward a mass of hills hardly a half-mile distant. They rode so closely
that the cowboys failed to note the momentous fact that they bore a
prisoner with them.
In such emergencies a party of American Indians generally manage to
carry off their dead and wounded, but the haste was too urgent in this
case. The stark figures were left stretched on the prairies where they
had fallen, and a number of animals also lay motionless near. The
wounded were taken care of, but the dead were left to bury the dead.
The cowboys discharged a score of shots at the Comanches, but the
distance was too great to accomplish anything, and, seeing that it was
impossible to overtake them before they reached the shelter of the
wooded hills, Gleeson led the party toward the spot where they believed
their friends needed instant care.
The prostrate horses, and a partial glimpse of a figure lying between
them, caused the rescuers to believe that the captain and his nephew
were either slain outright or badly hurt.
The approaching mustangs kept up their run until they were thrown on
their haunches with such suddenness that the shock seemed to fling the
riders from their saddles. They leaped forward, and vigorous arms
quickly lifted the body of the captain's horse from off young Burnet,
who opened his eyes and looked up with that faint wildness which showed
he had no conception of the situation.
"Where's the captain?"
This was the question that was asked by several, as all glared around
for their leader. Before anyone attempted an answer, others examined the
nephew and found he was without a wound. He had swooned under the sudden
pressure of the horse shot by his uncle, but he quickly recovered, and,
after being assisted to his feet and shaking himself together,
everything came back to him. Turning to Thunderbolt he ordered him to
rise, and the animal obeyed. He had received a couple of flesh-wounds,
which stung him for the moment without incapacitating him for effective
service.
Then, in as few words as possible, Avon told his story. He remembered
that his uncle was wounded before his horse was killed, and it was
self-evident to everyone that the poor man had been carried off by the
Comanches.
"Did you see Shackaye among 'em?" asked Gleeson, his face like a
thunder-cloud.
"He was not with those who attacked us; I could not have failed to see
him if he had been."
"But what became of him? He started off with you, and you must have
parted somewhere on the road."
Young Burnet now told about Shackaye's encounter with the steer which
came near slaying him. Avon's pursuit of the other troublesome
animal withdrew all attention from him, and there was no certainty
of the manner of his disappearance, which, to say the least, was
extraordinary.
But the absence of Captain Shirril forbade that the cowboys should waste
time in idleness. Instinctively every eye was turned toward the hills to
the eastward among which the Comanches had vanished with their captive.
"They haven't had time to go far," said Zach Collis, "and if we ride
hard we shall soon run 'em down."
"But is it best to try that?" was the question of Ward Burrell, or Old
Bronze.
Gleeson, who was naturally looked upon as the leader, shook his head.
"They'll brain him the minute there's a chance of losing him."
"But why did they take him off and spare _me_?" asked the astonished
Avon.
"They thought you was dead and so didn't bother with you."
"Why did they make him prisoner instead of doing what they had been
trying so long to do--kill him?"
"He's of more account than you; _he_ was the chap they was after, and
not _you_."
"It looked for a time as though they had designs on me."
The words of the Texan acted like a damper on the ardor of his
companions, who were eager to hasten to the rescue of their captain. Had
they not known that he was wounded, it is likely they would have
insisted upon an instant and vigorous pursuit; but none failed to see
the truth of Gleeson's utterances, though it was only a few minutes
before that he was as impatient as any of them.
"Boys," said he, observing that they were looking at him, "I think you
know what all this means as well as I do. If we had 'em out on the
plains where there was a fair chance, or if the cap could put in some
licks for himself, it would be different; but they're among them hills
over there; they're watching us now; we can't make a move that they
won't know it the minute it's started; they've got it on us, and just as
soon as they see there's any show of losing the cap they'll finish
him."
"Ballyhoo is right," remarked Wynwood, commonly known as Madstone;
"they've got us foul."
"That being so, there aint any use for you, pards; so go back to camp,
look after the cattle, and leave things to me."
The meaning of this proposition, which may sound strange to the reader,
was that the only possible way of saving Captain Shirril was by
negotiating for his release. The fact that the Comanches knew he was in
charge of two thousand cattle, and had made him prisoner instead of
slaying him, established this truth in the minds of Oscar Gleeson and
his comrades.
Furthermore, the Texan was confirmed in his belief that the act of
Shackaye in joining the company before the start was the first step in
an elaborate plot. It was his province to win the confidence of the
captain, and to communicate, in the many secret ways so well understood
by his people, with the Comanches, and to help when the time came for
the important movement.
His absence at the critical period gave color to this theory.
Circumstances had helped the treacherous red men, for it was as if
Captain Shirril walked directly into the trap set by them.
It was a brave act on Gleeson's part to venture alone among the hills in
the hope of opening communication with the red men, when, if there was
any mistake, he would be completely at their mercy. But he had uttered
his decision with the air and manner of one who would brook no dispute.
He waved his friends off, and, wheeling about, they rode in the
direction of the camp, frequently looking back at the daring fellow who
realized as fully as they the delicate and perilous task he had taken
upon himself.
Reaching the top of the ridge which has been referred to so often, the
first glance was at the herd of cattle, which it was instantly seen
required looking after. They had drifted far to the westward, and were
so scattered as to need rounding-up in a general way or rather herding.
Everything was favorable for good progress that day, since the stream to
be crossed was small and shallow, and the sky was not only clear but the
air just crisp enough to render travelling pleasant. But there was no
thought of going forward until the fate of the captain was settled.
With only a brief halt the cowboys spurred their mustangs down the slope
to attend to the cattle, but Avon Burnet remained on the crest, his
interest lying elsewhere.
There was only a single small field glass in the company, and as it
happened that was in the possession of Captain Shirril, so that the
youth had to depend upon his unaided vision. But the atmosphere in the
Southwest is generally of crystalline clearness, and he was able to see
his friend quite plainly until the hill beyond should hide him from
view.
At the moment Avon turned the head of his horse toward the east, the
Texan was quite close to the place where the Comanches had taken refuge
with their prisoner. His horse was walking slowly, and it was evident he
was on the watch for some sign from the red men who held the key to the
situation. As he drew nearer his mustang moved still more deliberately,
until it was hard to decide whether he was advancing at all.
Looking closely, however, he perceived that Gleeson's progress had not
ceased, and he was making some kind of signal. He had removed the
handkerchief from around his neck, and was fluttering it over his head.
Although its color debarred it from serving as the regulation flag of
truce, there was little doubt that the meaning of its owner would be
understood by whomsoever saw it.
"Ah, there they are!"
This exclamation was uttered a few minutes later, when the watcher on
the crest caught sight, not of one but of two Indians, who emerged from
the hills on foot. They walked directly toward the Texan, their actions
proving that they appeared in answer to his signal.
Gleeson, on perceiving them, brought his steed to a stand still and
awaited their coming. None could have known better than he that he was
within range of the companions of these two warriors, who could shoot
him from his horse in the twinkling of an eye.
"And they will do it, too," said Avon to himself, as the thought came to
him; "but I believe I shall take a hand in this business."
And, without waiting to observe the result of the interview, the young
man set out to execute an extraordinary resolution that was formed on
the spur of the moment.