RANGERS ON THE TRAIL.
It was about an hour after he had secured the firearm which he intended
for Jack’s use that Baldy rode back into the Rangers’ camp in, what
was for him, a state of great perturbation. The Chinaman was still up
scouring dishes, and to him Baldy rode, spurring his pony almost into
the remains of the camp fire in his anxiety.
All about lay the recumbent forms of the Rangers, sleeping under the
stars on the expanse of plain. Snores and deep breathing showed that
every one of them was deeply wrapped in the healthy slumber of the
plainsman.
“Wallee maller, Massel Baldy?” cried the Mongolian, as Baldy spurred
his pony up to him.
“Nuffin, you yellow–mugged Chinee,” shot out Baldy, breathing tensely,
despite his effort to appear careless; “have you seen anything of that
Tenderfoot that went on watch with me a while ago?”
“No, me no see him, Massel Baldy. Whafo’ you so heap much ’cited?”
The keen–eyed Oriental had pierced Baldy’s mask of carelessness, and
saw readily enough that the old plainsman was badly worried.
“Me excited, you pig–tailed gopher!” roared out Baldy angrily. “I was
never so easy–minded in my life. Where’s the cap sleeping?”
“Over yonder, Massel Baldy. Him litee by chuck wagon.”
Baldy did not wait to make a reply. He steered his plunging pony
skillfully among the sleeping Rangers till he reached a bundled–up heap
of blankets which he knew must contain Captain Atkinson. Baldy threw
himself from his horse in an instant, at the same time slipping the
reins over his pony’s head, according to the plainsman’s custom.
Reaching down, he shook the captain vigorously.
“Hello! hello, there, what’s up?” came a muffled rejoinder from amidst
the blankets.
But the next instant Captain Atkinson, broad awake, was sitting up.
“Oh, you, Baldy? Well, what’s the trouble?”
“Dunno jes’ erzackly, boss,” stammered out Baldy, “but it’s about that
Tenderfoot kid that you gave me ter mind.”
Baldy was plainly embarrassed. He shoved back his sombrero and
scratched his head vigorously. At the same time he jingled his spurs as
he shifted his feet nervously.
Captain Atkinson’s tone was sharp when he next spoke.
“You mean Jack Merrill? I’d have you understand, Baldy, that he is no
Tenderfoot. He’s only a boy, but he’s been through as much as most men
of twice his years. But what about him?”
If the question was sharp and to the point, as was Captain Atkinson’s
wont, so was Baldy’s answer. Rangers are not men who are in the habit
of wasting words.
“He’s went.”
“What?”
“I mean what I say, boss. The kid’s vamoosed, gone, skidooed.”
“No nonsense, Baldy. Explain yourself.”
“There ain’t much to explain, boss.”
“If Jack Merrill has gone, I should say that there was a good deal to
explain on your part.”
Baldy shifted uneasily.
“It warn’t no fault of mine, boss,” he protested.
“I’ll be the judge of that. What’s your story?”
“Just this. The kid went on watch with me. As you told me, I kept him
close alongside. He didn’t hev no shootin’ iron, so I rode back to camp
to git one. When I got back to the Rio he was gone.”
“Gone?”
“That’s what.”
“Have you looked for him?”
“Beat the brush frum San Antone to breakfus’, but ther ain’t no sign uv
hair nor hide uv him.”
“You saw the other men?”
“Sure!”
“Did they know nothing?”
“Not a thing. But the kid couldn’t hev passed in either direction
without goin’ up in an air ship.”
“None of your jokes. This is serious. Answer my questions. You left him
where?”
“Not far from the foot of the trail to the waterin’ place.”
“You told him to stay there?”
“Sure thing. You see I lef’ him ter git him a shootin’ iron. I didn’t
think it was right that he shouldn’t be heeled. The greasers————”
“All right, never mind that part of it. Well, you got the gun?”
“Yes; and when I took it back fer him ther kid had gone.”
“How long did all this take?”
“Waal, I’ve bin huntin’ fer ther dern little pinto ever since. But I
should say that I rode to camp and back in about half an hour. You see,
I hurried.”
“Humph! You found no sign of trouble when you got back?”
“Nary a bit. All wuz quiet as a Chink’s funeral in Tombstone.”
“Had the others heard nothing while you were away?”
“Not a sound so fur as they told me.”
“It’s not possible to ford the river at that point?”
“Boss, a cayuse couldn’t swim it, the current’s that swift.”
“That’s so, too, I thought for a moment that the boy might have
foolishly tried to cross into Mexican territory.”
“Ef he did, it’s flowers fer his’n ef we ever find him,” declared Baldy
piously.
“Let us hope it is not as bad as that. But it is most mysterious.”
“Very consterious,” agreed Baldy. “You see, there were men to the east
and west of where the kid was, and they didn’t hear nor see nothing.”
“And yet the boy has vanished.”
“Waal, he ain’t ter be found,” admitted Baldy, ignoring the long word.
Captain Atkinson sat up in his blankets lost in thought. At length
Baldy ventured to break in on the silence.
“What yer goin’ ter do, boss? Ther young maverick may be needin’ help
right now and needin’ it bad, too.”
“That’s correct, Baldy. We must take some action at once. But the case
is so puzzling that I hardly know what to do about it. Jack Merrill
didn’t impress me as the kind of boy that would run needlessly into
danger.”
“No; ther young pinto had some hoss sense,” admitted Baldy, flicking
his chaps with his quirt.
“That being the case, how are we to account for his disappearance? If
he had been attacked by greasers there would have been some noise, some
disturbance.”
“Maybe he jes’ fell in ther Rio and was drown–ded,” suggested Baldy.
“I don’t think that. Jack Merrill is an athletic lad, and among other
things, I am told, a first–class swimmer. No, we have to figure on some
other line.”
“Waal, I’m free to admit that I’m up a tree, boss,” grunted Baldy.
By this time Captain Atkinson was out of his blankets and hastily
drawing on his chaps and pulling his blue cowboy shirt over his head.
When his boots had been drawn on and spurs adjusted he ordered Baldy
to saddle his pony and bring it over. As soon as this was done the
Captain of the Rangers and Baldy rode out of the camp as silently as
possible and made their way to the river. But all Captain Atkinson’s
questioning failed to elicit any more facts than he had been able to
glean from Baldy. There was nothing left to do but to wait for daybreak
to make an examination for tracks that might throw some light on the
mystery.
In the meantime Ralph and Walt were informed of Jack’s mysterious
disappearance. To Captain Atkinson’s astonishment, they did not appear
nearly so much alarmed as he had feared. Instead, they accepted the
news with almost stoical faces.
“You think that Jack is safe, then?” asked the captain of the Rangers.
“At any rate, you don’t seem much worried about him.”
“It’s not our way to worry till we know we have good cause to,
Captain,” rejoined Ralph. “If Jack has vanished, I’m willing to
swear that he is off on some sort of duty connected with the Rangers.
Possibly he had not time to report back before leaving. Depend upon it,
Jack will come out all right.”
“That’s my idea, too,” declared Walt stoutly.
“Well, I admire the confidence you boys have in your leader,” declared
Captain Atkinson warmly, “but just the same as soon as it’s daylight I
mean to start a thorough investigation, and if harm has come to him it
will go hard with those that caused it.”