ALMOST CAUGHT.
"Now, I wonder what does ail that queer gent?" mused Billie, after the
other had left him, to enter the bunk house, with the avowed intention
of lying down. "He limps like all get-out, sure as anything, and I
reckon he does look like he's sick, or scared half to death about
something or other. Whatever could it be that's upset him so since he
arrived here? Must be the chance of a scrap coming off; because even if
he does boast so hard I'm believing Mr. Thomas is pretty much of a
chicken-hearted fellow. My! how he does roll them white eyes of his
around whenever he hears the least sound."
He poked his head in through the open doorway, and saw that the pilgrim
of the trail had indeed rolled into one of the bunks that did not seem
to belong to any of the punchers; for there were twice as many sleeping
places as hands on the place in these days of hard luck for Bar-S Ranch.
"Well, mebbe he _is_ sick after all," continued the tender-hearted
Billie; "and if I get half a chance to sneak any grub, I'll remember to
fetch it to him; because it's _aw_ful to have to go hungry. Guess I
know. And right now I wish I could manage to pick up a few bites, just
to keep away that gnawing feeling inside. But me go in that ranch house,
and face that lady--well, not if Broncho Billie knows what's good for
him, and he generally does. There's some things even worse than being
hungry; and getting her hands in my hair'd be one of the same. No siree
bob, excuse me. Let her practice on her lawful husband as much as she
likes; I ain't in that pulling game."
He walked up and down outside as if he were a sentry on guard. And
indeed, Billie rather felt as though such were his duties just then, for
he could not get entirely over his suspicions with regard to that
mysterious Mr. Thomas, and his way of dodging, as though he feared being
seen by some one who would recognize him.
"Goodness knows what he may have done!" Billie went on to tell himself
after a little more time had elapsed, and his thoughts persisted in
returning to the subject of the man in the bunk house. "I wonder, now,
if there's anything inside that he could get away with? But then,
cow-punchers never leave their savings around loose; fact is, few of 'em
ever have a dollar three days after getting paid. Oh! well, I'll let him
alone for a while, and take a look around the corrals and the barns."
After that he walked about "sizing up things" as he called it. As the
sun was bright, though the afternoon had half gone, Billie suddenly
remembered that he had a kodak in his pack; so opening this he secured
the little snapshot camera, meaning to take his first view of the ranch
buildings.
After securing one picture Billie became aware of the fact that Mr.
Comstock was beckoning wildly to catch his attention.
"Now, what does he want, I wonder?" the fat boy asked himself; "there he
goes at his wireless again, and seems like he was making motions for me
to come over back of the house to where he is. Looks like he was ahiding
behind that woodpile, too. What ails all the people here, to want to
dodge around like they do? But then, there might be some excuse for
Uncle Fred to keep mum; because if ever _she_ gets them hands on him
after this, there's going to be some warm times, believe me. Shall I go
over and join him, or make out I don't understand, because I want to
take another view of the house?"
Then Billie remembered his promise to Adrian.
"I did say I'd watch out for Uncle Fred, sure enough; and he acts like
he needed a nurse, or something like that, right now. Guess I'll wander
around that way; I can make out to be looking for another view of the
place, if anybody is ataking the trouble to watch me."
This he did, and presently joined the late manager of the ranch. Mr.
Comstock was still crouching behind that pile of wood. Every now and
then he thrust out his head and seemed disposed to start toward the
house; but something always caused him to weaken, for he would draw
back, shaking his head as if to say: "I can't seem to do it, and that's
flat!"
"What's the matter, sir?" asked Billie, when he had come up.
"Would you mind doing me a little favor, Billie?" asked the other, with
a smile that was intended to be very winning.
"Of course I would, if it wasn't beyond me," replied the fat boy;
"Adrian told me to help you if you needed anything done."
"Why, you see, here's the way things stand," the late manager commenced
to say. "When I heard all the racket, and somebody shouted that the
stolen herd was coming back, I was that excited I ran out of the house
without taking the trouble to pick up my belt, that carries my gun. It
lies in there where you see that open window close to the ground. All
you need do is to crawl through, reach it out to me, and then skip
again. Get that straight, do you, Billie?"
"Y-yes, sir," Billie said, slowly enough, for somehow he did not
particularly fancy the adventure, since there was a pretty good chance
that he would run across the good woman of the house while entering like
a burglar; and he shivered when he had a mental picture of how she would
pounce upon him.
"I'd go myself, you see, Billie, only that I'm afraid of that female
dragon that the law calls Mrs. Comstock. What she'd do to me if she
caught me in there would be a caution. And I want that gun the worst
kind, because, if there's going to be any sort of rumpus I'll need it.
Will you go, Billie?"
"I s'pose I'll have to, sir; but I only hope that she don't grab me;
because I just know from her looks, not to mention her reputation as a
scrapper, that I'll be the worst clawed fellow in seven counties before
she lets go. You must promise to stay by the window, and give me fair
warning if she comes."
This did not seem to make the other very happy; but evidently he
realized that he could not very well expect Billy to take all the risk.
"Agreed, Billie," he said, quickly. "Lead off, now; it's that window
closest to the corner, you understand. I'll look in after you climb
over, and take the belt from you. If I give tongue, you jump for all
you're worth out of the said window, because that'll mean I've sighted
her acoming."
"All right; who's afraid?" said Billie valiantly; he even thought of
handing over his rifle to the other, with directions to cover his
venturesome trip through that window; but on second thoughts decided,
that it would not be the right thing to use such a weapon on one of the
other sex, no matter what an Amazon she might be.
Mr. Comstock followed close behind as the boy advanced toward the open
window; but it could be easily seen that he was ready to beat a rapid
retreat should the enemy suddenly put in an appearance anywhere around.
"She ain't there!" whispered Billie, after he had taken a cautious look
inside the room which the former manager of the ranch had been wont to
call his "office," and which, as he had said, could only be entered
ordinarily through another apartment.
But if Billie cherished any faint hope that the other, on learning that
the coast was clear, would immediately offer to undertake the affair for
himself, he found himself wofully mistaken.
"Do you need any help to climb over the window sill?" whispered Mr.
Comstock, who did not forget that the boy was unusually heavy, and
consequently far from being as agile as either of his two chums.
Billie shook his head, but he confessed to a grievous disappointment all
the same. He was evidently in for it, no matter what might follow. On
looking down at his feet he discovered a stone that he could mount, and
after he had done this it was likely to be a much easier job clambering
in through the low window than at first appearance he had expected.
"Who's afraid?" he again muttered softly to himself; for that was one of
his pet ways for bolstering up his courage when he began to feel his
knees wobble under him, and knew that his heart was beating twice as
fast as normal.
Accordingly he gave a heave, and in this way managed to get his right
knee elevated upon the window ledge. After that it was easy enough; and
presently Billie lowered himself into the room.
He felt very queer while doing this, just for all the world as though he
might be a real burglar intending to steal valuables, and in momentary
terror lest the angry man of the house dash in upon him.
All seemed quiet enough, though he could hear some one moving around in
the adjoining room, and took for granted that this must be Mrs.
Comstock. Billie sincerely hoped that whatever she was doing, whether
packing up her clothes in expectation of an early flitting, or anything
else, she would keep right along at it, and not bother taking a look
through that open doorway.
He glanced cautiously around him, trying to get his bearings, and
discover just where the coveted article lay.
"To your right--on the desk!" whispered the man outside.
Billie turned around to move in that direction. As he did so he managed
to dislodge a small picture that had been pinned to the wall. It fell
with a slight noise, and Billie's heart seemed to stand still with
sudden fear.
When nothing happened Billie took his courage in both hands, and started
to move over to where the big rolltop desk stood, intending to pick up
the belt and hasten to hand it to Mr. Comstock, after which he would get
outside where he could breathe again naturally, and without such a dread
specter hanging over his head.
Yes, there was the belt, just as the former manager had said, lying
snugly on the desk; and the revolver seemed to be as usual in the
leather holster which was heavily studded with buttons or round-headed
colored nails, cowboy fashion.
Billie went forward another pace, and reaching out his hand picked the
whole affair up. How glad he was now that he had leaned his rifle
against the outside wall of the house before venturing in through the
window.
He turned to retrace his steps. Just then he thought he heard a
suspicious little sound like a gasp behind him; and it seemed as though
a cold hand gripped his heart.
If he had any doubts concerning what it signified they were dissipated
even before he could think to twist his head around; for Uncle Fred
suddenly called out in a shrill voice that was full of anxiety and
excitement:
"Run for it, Billie; she's coming after you!"
Billie did not wait upon the order of his going. He seemed to be placed
in connection with a galvanic battery, to judge by the way he sprang
forward, thrust the belt into the outstretched hand of Mr. Comstock, and
then took a header right through the open window.