COUNTING THE MINUTES.
"That clears the situation a heap, let me tell you, Adrian!" was what
Uncle Fred said, heartily, after he had been told what a clever trick
the young owner of the Bar-S Ranch had succeeded in turning.
Donald took especial pains to note that Mr. Comstock did not appear to
be annoyed in the slightest because the wife of his bosom had been thus
made a prisoner in her own house; in fact, the prairie boy was inclined
to believe that Adrian's relative seemed to breathe easier than he had
done for some time, because now he could be absolutely certain that Mrs.
Fred was so placed that she might not confront him unexpectedly, to
confound him, when he ought to be fixing his mind on other things than
family differences of opinion.
"The corrals are all secure so far, are they, Uncle?" asked the boy,
anxiously; for he had become deeply interested in this strange game
which was being waged for the possession of his herds.
"Yes, up to now nothing has happened," came the reply; "but what lies
ahead of us no man can say. They're a wily and unscrupulous lot, those
Walkers, and wouldn't hesitate at anything short of murder, I reckon,
and even that crime might be laid at their door, if you cared to go back
to certain unexplained things that've happened around these diggings in
times past."
"It's too bad the moon is hidden by the clouds, so that the darkness is
likely to keep right along," Donald remarked, as he cast a critical eye
upward toward the gloomy heavens; and as boys on the plains learn early
in life to read the signs of the weather almost as well as the Indians
can themselves, Donald knew what he was talking about when he
regretfully admitted that there was little hope of the sky clearing in
time to do them any good.
"Yes, because we can never say what lies hidden right out yonder," Mr.
Comstock went on to observe, sweeping his hand off toward the blackness.
"Somewhere in the midst of that pall we believe there are a dozen riders
hanging out, waiting to swoop down on us at a certain time, and cut the
barricade that holds the cattle safe, if they can manage it. That may
mean the exchange of dozens of shots; and some people are apt to get
their summons this very night; but what does Hatch Walker care for that,
when he's made up his mind to do a thing? I'd be a happy man if only
some of us could get him to with a bullet. It'd be the best thing that
ever happened for this section of country if Hatch was put out of the
running for keeps. And remember, I'm not a blood-thirsty man at all, but
one who would have peace all the time, even if I had to fight for it."
"But Uncle, don't you think it queer that sheriff doesn't show up, when
he must know he's wanted right here and now so much?" Adrian asked,
presently.
"Well, I am beginning to think it kind of strange," admitted the
rancher, in a thoughtful way. "For a while I rather expected that he was
delayed on account of some trouble he might be having, collecting the
right sort of a posse; because I warned Frank not to let him take a
single man that he suspected of feeling the least bit toward the
Walkers. But by now it seems like he had ought to have got a bunch of
gun-fighters together, and be along here, if he's going to come at all."
"Perhaps the new sheriff has a case of cold feet right in the start!"
suggested Adrian.
"Yes, that's what I'm afraid of," added Donald; "because I've known such
things to happen away down in Arizona. When this man hears how his very
first call is a summons to come and hit up against the Walker tribe, he
may find that he's got some mighty important business at the other end
of the county; or that his wife is sick, and has wired for him to come
right home."
"No," declared Mr. Comstock, "from all I've heard about this man he's
the right sort. We had the time of our lives electing him; and
everybody's been on tiptoe with excitement waiting to see how he panned
out. This business right here is going to make or break Jo Davies; and
it's also bound to see the beginning of the end of either the Walker
bunch, or cattle raising in this same county; because nobody is going to
take all the chances, and then have their stock rustled."
"Watch out there, Uncle; for I believe I saw some sort of a light flash
up, and then disappear again," Adrian said hurriedly, pointing as he
spoke; for the fires were still burning, and they could see fairly well
around the corrals.
"Yes, I saw the same several times," admitted Mr. Comstock. "I reckoned
that the rustlers might be passing certain signals along; because one
time it came out yonder to the east, and again it flashed up due
southwest. Those lights mean something; but of course we don't know
what, because we haven't got the key."
"What a long night this is going to be to us," Adrian went on to remark,
as he stood and watched to see if there was any answering flash out
there on the prairie where everything was shrouded in darkness.
"Sometimes I even wish they'd hurry up and do what they're planning,"
pursued the old stockman, grimly. "I don't like to be kept in suspense.
If the worst comes along you know what you're up against; but now we
keep on waiting, and with every nerve strained as the minutes crawl
along into hours; and as you say, son, seems like the night would last
forever. If it's going to be fight, why, let's get it over with, and
then take stock of damages; but I do sure hope Hatch will be in the
thick of it, and get his."
And Adrian, knowing how his uncle must have been badgered during the
last year and more with the knowledge that his hands were tied, because
of his wife's siding with her greedy relatives in their forays, could
not find it in his heart to blame Uncle Fred for this wish, even though
it could not be classed as pious.
Yes, there would be no peace in that section until the chief offender
was either put behind prison bars, chased into another county, or else
"planted" under the prairie sod.
It was now not far from being eleven o'clock. Adrian found this out by
consulting his little nickel time-piece. And supposing that the rustlers
were planning to make their attack about the middle of the night, it
would not be long delayed.
"If only they knew that we had taken their four allies prisoners, and
that they need not expect help from any one inside our lines, it might
make some difference," he went on to say.
"Yes," added Mr. Comstock, "because it goes without saying that they
expect help from the rear. When they give the signal they look to these
fellows to create a diversion, either by firing the balance of the hay,
or in some other way; and while we're kept busy with them, the corrals
will be slashed wide open, and the stock run out. As it is, we'll be in
condition to pay full attention to the rustlers who come in from the
front, so that they're due for a surprise. That pleases me; and it's all
due to your caging that lot of plotters in the house, son."
The scene was a remarkable one, with the fires burning, and the cattle
keeping up an almost incessant bellowing, just as though they knew that
unusual events were transpiring, and the fact excited them almost as
much as though they were in the midst of stampede, such as the three
Broncho Rider Boys had witnessed when having their first introduction to
the Walker method of building up a cattle ranch at small expense.
Each defender of the corrals had been urged to pick out some place where
at the first sign of trouble he could find shelter, and which would
allow him to cover a certain stretch of territory, so that he could use
his gun on any rustler who had the boldness to show himself in the
firelight.
The greatest danger that Mr. Comstock anticipated, was the fact that
should they find themselves cornered, it would be impossible to keep
adding fuel to the fires, so that gradually darkness might come upon the
scene, under cover of which the corral cutters could get to work, and
sever the barbed wire; as well as tear down the heavy poles that were
placed to show the cattle the barrier and allow them to keep clear of
the cruel points that would tear the flesh.
The stockman had endeavored to provide against this emergency the best
he could. If other things failed perhaps those clouds that covered the
heavens might break, so as to allow the moon to shine, and thus afford
them all the light they needed.
"We'd feel some better, I think," remarked Donald, as the ranchman fell
silent, doubtless thinking of the many things he knew of that were
calculated to give him anxiety; "if only we knew that posse was
galloping this way as fast as their horses could carry them."
"I should say we would," Adrian admitted; "and if it was daytime that
might be learned by making use of the field glasses; but now we couldn't
tell until they were right in on top of us."
"Well, we used to have a way down where I came from, that is as old as
the hills," Donald went on to say. "I remember one time when I was
trying it Billie up and declared that he'd read about the same dodge in
one of Cooper's Leatherstocking stories of the woods in the old times
about Revolutionary days. I've got a good notion to try the thing right
now."
"No harm done anyhow," argued Adrian, possibly more than half guessing
to what his chum referred.
So what did the Arizona boy do but throw himself flat on his chest, and
place his ear on the ground. Yes, it _was_ an old idea, and one that has
served its purpose many a time. If you doubt how sound travels faster
and stronger along some such good conductor than through the air, the
first chance you have, after a train has passed, put your ear to the
rail, and you will find that you can hear the click of the wheels
passing over the joints long after the train has passed from sight, and
when not a sound can be caught otherwise.
After lying thus for a minute or so Donald arose again.
"Not much luck, I reckon?" remarked his chum, for Mr. Comstock had
passed on.
"Well, not that you could call by that name," returned Donald; "you see,
the cattle keep up such a trampling around, and making all sorts of
noises that it was pretty hard to get anything else. I did think,
though, I caught the whinny of a cayuse coming from out there in the
black somewhere; because our hosses are all safe in the stables, you
know, and the door locked in the bargain."
"Just as likely as not," remarked Adrian; "for we feel pretty sure those
cattle rustlers are hanging out somewhere close by. If only we had a
searchlight so's to throw it on them sudden-like, couldn't we make the
lot scatter like partridges when we opened fire a few times? But if
Frank would only come along, and bring that posse, it would clear the
air a heap, believe me."
"It sure would; and here's hoping that same will happen before it's too
late," was the way Donald expressed his sentiments.