A MESSAGE IN THE NIGHT
At the ranch that evening, there was much talk of the landslide and of
how Nick came upon the two boys “wanderin’ around within five hundred
yards of each other an’ each thinkin’ the other was settin’ on the
ground, tossin’ little rocks after big ones,” which was Nick’s way of
telling of the incident.
Mr. Manley, the soul of bluff friendliness and humor, laughed until the
ends of his long black mustache curled inward.
But Mrs. Manley, she whom the boys and their father often called, half
jokingly, half seriously, “the blonde angel of the West,” smiled
tenderly. Now that the danger was over, she would not worry. Still in
her mother’s heart was a prayer of thankfulness for the boys’ safety.
Often had she watched her sons off on a dangerous mission with a laugh
on her lips and anguish in her soul, but they never knew that.
Perhaps Mr. Manley suspected, for at times he would gather her in his
arms without a word of warning, and in a soft voice ask her if she was
sorry she had come out to “this roughneck West where there’s nothin’ but
cyclones an’ wild steers an’ rustlers.”
Then she would lift her face to his, her eyes shining with just a hint
of tears—of happiness, and in a moment Mr. Manley’s laugh would go
booming out into the sunny yard. Seldom would she answer his question.
He knew the reply without being told.
Belle Ada, the daughter of the family, she of the dark eyes and wavy
black hair, characterized by Sing Lung, the cook, as “Plitty like litta’
black jade house-god,” was disappointed that Teddy had not brought home
the porcupine. Belle was twelve years old, and a fitting partner for
Teddy when any joke was afoot.
“We could have had loads of fun with him,” she declared. “Golly! Imagine
Pop Burns trying to get him to shoot his quills! I know we could have
fixed up something, maybe with rubber bands, so when Pop went near him
the quills would shoot! Of course I don’t say we _could_ have. I just
say maybe. But, anyway—”
“Hey, take it easy!” Teddy interrupted. “We haven’t got old Needleback;
so what’s the use of supposing? You’re lucky to have us back at all,
Miss Maybe. Do you realize that?”
“Bugs,” Belle stated definitely, with that callousness so attractive in
sisters of twelve. “I know you and Roy. It ’ud take more than a
landslide to put you under. Like that time you went after the rustlers.
If I could have come with you, I’ll bet none of them would have gotten
away!”
“Is that so!” Roy interrupted, getting up from the steps of the front
porch, where he had been sitting, and walking toward Belle. “Is that so!
How would you work? What would you do? Shoot ’em all? Would you? Would
you? Would—”
“Roy Manley, don’t you touch my hair! I just combed it! Roy! If you
don’t stop—”
With a bound, Roy cleared the railing, while Belle stood in mock fury,
shaking her fist.
“Come on, Teddy,” the departed brother called back. “Let’s go see Nick
down at the bunk-house. We can’t be bothering with children.”
With a laugh, Teddy arose and followed his brother.
“We’ll see you later,” he whispered as he passed Belle. “Think up a good
one, and I’ll help you.”
Approaching the bunk-house, the two boys saw that Nick, Pop Burns, and
Gus Tripp were leaning against the side talking—“settling their
supper.” In the dusk of the evening, they resembled a picture, so
quietly did they stand. The cowboy will seldom move unless it is
necessary, but at those times he makes up for his former quiescence.
“Greetings, boys,” Teddy called softly.
“And to you, great chiefs, the blessing of the harvest moon,” came from
Gus. “What brings you-all to the abode of the humble?”
“Make talk,” Teddy grunted. “Where do you get that ‘humble’ stuff? Been
getting more love letters, Gus?”
“You tell ’em,” Pop chuckled. “Pop” was the oldest puncher on the X Bar
X. He claimed to have invented the brand of the Manley ranch when the
present owner’s father first settled it. Thus he felt entitled to a
certain consideration from the “youngsters,” as he called the other
hands. This respect he often sought to enforce by criticizing the rising
generation, much to his later dismay. In the words of Nick, they “hopped
all over him.”
“Never mind about my love letters,” Gus responded, grinning. “I guess
Nick, here, can tell us all we want to know about love. He’s the hombre
that writes the ‘advice to the lovelorn’ in the _Hawley Register_; ain’t
you, Nick? An’ I know where he gets his dope from, too! Me, if I liked
Norine as well as you do, I’d marry the girl, that’s what I’d do!
Yessir!”
“Dry up,” Nick growled. Norine was the daughter of Mrs. Moore, a widow,
who for many years had been the housekeeper at the ranch house of the X
Bar X. Norine was Irish—and pretty. Nick was not the only puncher on
the ranch who had fallen a victim to her charms.
“Yep, these kids amuse me,” Pop chuckled, sliding gently down the side
of the bunk-house until he sat upon the ground, when he proceeded to
light and fill a pipe. “They sure tickle me! Talkin’ about love! Huh!
Why, you birds don’t know what love means. Me, I had experience. First
gal I ever loved was the dar’ter of a bouncer in a drinkin’ place over
Tacoma way. She was a gal fer yuh! Shoot? That gal could shoot the eye
outta a fly at ten paces. That’s the reason I didn’t marry her. She was
_too_ good. The next one was—”
“Aw, take a rest!” Nick exploded. “How do you get thataway? Must think
you’re King Solomon, or somebody! Pop, there’s only one trouble with
you. You’re too verbose.”
“Here!” the old man sat upright, startled. “Don’t go callin’ names at
me, Nick, ’cause I won’t have it. I’m tellin’ yuh now, I—”
“Take it easy, Pop,” Roy broke in. “That doesn’t mean anything to get
sore about. It means you talk too much.”
“Oh!” Pop returned, mollified. “I thought it meant somethin’ else. Got
to be careful these days, with all the youngsters readin’ dictionaries.
When I was your age, Nick, all my knowledge I got out of Harvey’s
Encyclopedia an’ an almanack containin’ the names of every bird, animal
an’ fish in creation, with a remedy for all ills the flesh is heir to.
Yep, an’ she stood me in good stead, too. I remember the time—”
“Gettin’ late,” Gus declared, stretching high. “Got a pack of tobacco,
Nick? I’m all out. Say, what you boys been doin’ all day? Seems like I
heard some talk of a landslide.”
“That was us,” Teddy said grimly. He told the story of their escape once
more, since Nick had not yet repeated it.
“Guess you were glad to be on the backs of Flash an’ Star,” Gus
commented when Teddy had finished.
“I’ll tell a maverick we were!” Roy burst out. “Those horses are almost
human! Now you take that jump that Flash made, with Teddy on him. I saw
the place, and, baby, it was some leap! How many horses could do that?
Then when I gave Star his head, as the rocks started to play tag with
me, why, he knew which way to go. Brought me right out of it. By golly,
I—”
“Guess during the time the rustlers had them broncs you didn’t lose any
love for ’em, did ya?” Nick remarked dryly. “Well, you’re right, Roy.
They’re sure some horses!”
“Can’t tell me different!” Teddy agreed. “Say, Roy, did you let the boys
know about that rider you saw on the mountain? Maybe they know who it
is.”
“What was that?” Gus asked quickly.
“Well, nothing much,” Roy answered, “except that I saw a man who looked
a great deal like one of those punchers we rounded up when they tried to
steal our cattle. As I remember there was one hombre who sat kind of
slouched in the saddle—leaning to the left. Any of you recall that?”
“I do,” Nick stated definitely. “When he heard that Froud had knifed
Brand, he took a pot shot at him, only he missed. Sure, I remember that
slouch. But as far as I know he’s in the hoosegow at Hawley. There were
only three of the rustlers that made a getaway. That waddy who rides
leanin’ in his saddle we got. Still, I reckon there’s more than one
side-winder in these parts.”
“Guess so,” Roy said musingly. He stared up at the sky through which
tiny stars were now peeping. “Going to be a nice day to-morrow,” he said
in a low tone. “Just right for a ride. Maybe—”
“Maybe,” Teddy repeated. “Why not? I’ll go with you.”
“Huh?” Roy came to with a jerk and looked at his brother. “What do you
mean—you’ll come with me? Do you think you’re a mind reader?”
“Sure do,” Teddy replied, grinning broadly. “Guessed right, didn’t I?
You mean to ride over to the 8 X 8 and see Nell and Ethel, don’t you?
Oh, never mind denying it. Anyway, I’ll go along to see that you get
there all right. Can’t have bogie-mans get my ’ittle brother. No, sir!
Would be terrible. Would be awful. Would be—”
“Chuck it,” Roy growled, making a pass at Teddy. “If you come along,
it’s not to save me from any bogie-man. It’s for just one thing—to see
Curly! Hey, Pop, what about that? You qualify as an expert. What should
a man do when he wants to see a girl and she’s ten miles off on another
ranch?”
“Buy an airship,” Pop chuckled. “Then you can make flyin’ visits. Pete
Ball would be glad to see you comin’, I know. He’d maybe climb up on the
roof an’ wave to you.”
“You’re all locoed, I think,” Teddy said casually. “I’m going in. Got
some work to do.”
“Yea, work! Going to write a note to Curly because too many people may
listen in if you telephone! Do you call that work?” gibed Roy.
“I would not—anything but!” returned Teddy. “The note wouldn’t be
poetry though,” and he grinned at his brother, who was a lover of verse.
“Say, Gus,” he went on in a different tone of voice, “how’s that cow
that was sick? Getting better?”
“She’s comin’ along all right, Teddy,” Gus replied.
Mr. Manley gave the charge of the ranch over to the boys on alternate
weeks, and this week Teddy was the foreman. He was responsible for the
management of the entire business of the X Bar X.
“Don’t let her mix with the others until she’s entirely well,” Teddy
went on. “We don’t want any more sickness on our hands. Well, see you
boys in the morning. Coming in, Roy?”
“Not just yet. I want to—”
Roy had been facing Nick while he was talking, and now he stopped
suddenly and whirled about. From around the corner of the bunk-house
came the clatter of a pony’s feet. The five men stood perfectly still,
waiting. The rider appeared, flashing through the night like an
apparition. His hat was pulled low over his eyes, and Teddy noticed that
he rode not straight up, but leaning to the left.
Close to the five punchers he swung. When he got opposite them, he
yelled something and tossed a light stick at Roy. Fluttering from the
stick was a piece of white paper. The next moment the rider had swept
out of sight behind the bunk-house. The beating of his pony’s feet upon
the hard earth sounded loud, then the noise grew gradually fainter and
at last died away in the distance. He went as he had come.
Teddy stooped forward and picked up the stick with the paper tied to it.
He walked into the bunk-house and held it under the lamp. The others
crowded around eagerly. Teddy spread the paper out. On it were scribbled
the words:
“Bardwell Manley:
“If you press the charge against those men at Hawley you’ll get
yours with interest. Take our advice and let it drop if you want
to stay healthy. We mean what we say.
“RELTSUR.”