A GREAT FEAR
The incident of the escaped rustlers was forgotten for the time while
Belle prepared for her visit to the 8 X 8. Mr. Manley discarded his gun
the day she was to leave, whether because of what he had heard at Eagles
or because he deemed it no longer necessary, was a matter for
speculation. At all events, he had recovered his good humor and directed
many quips at the care Roy and Teddy were taking with their appearance
before they set out. It had been arranged that the brothers were to
drive Belle over in a car and return later in the evening.
“I see you boys are goin’ some place,” Mr. Manley said, as he stood at
the door of their room, hands deep in his pockets, corncob pipe emitting
clouds of fragrant smoke.
“Taking a ride,” Teddy answered, without turning. He was adjusting his
tie at the mirror. Roy, beside him, was occupied in the same manner.
Teddy just touched his brother with his elbow, and winked in the glass.
“Well—er—any particular place?” their father asked innocently.
“Vienna,” Teddy replied, grinning.
“Vienna, hey?” Mr. Manley considered this for a moment. “Goin’ to a show
there?”
“Nope,” and Teddy winked again. “Just going to loaf around a bit.”
“Goin’ to loaf around—” Then Mr. Manley woke up and sent out a roar of
laughter. “Good shot, Teddy! You’re gettin’ better! Be almost a match
for me soon. Well, good luck to you, an’ don’t take any wooden nickels!”
Still chuckling, he tramped away.
“Dad seems to be O. K. now,” Roy remarked, as he gave his tie a final
twist. “I’m glad to notice it. I don’t like to see him worried. Come
along, you look beautiful! Get a move on! We’ve got to get started.”
“Just a second.”
Opening the top drawer of the dresser, Teddy took out two pistols, both
smaller than the large guns usually carried in that vicinity. One of
these he handed to Roy and the other he placed in an upper inside pocket
under his left arm. Roy nodded in approval.
“Just in case,” Teddy explained, and, putting on their coats, the two
boys descended the stairs.
They told their father, out of hearing of Mrs. Manley, however, who
might worry unnecessarily, that they were armed. The ranch owner
commended their foresight and remarked that he was about to suggest it
himself. He knew the boys were to be depended upon. Living on the range
brings self-reliance early in life, and Mr. Manley felt proud of the
fact that his sons were true men of the West—courageous and upright.
As the car rolled out of the ranch yard with Roy driving and Belle and
Teddy beside him in the front seat, Sing Lung burst from the door of the
cook-house.
“Late!” he yelled. “You late!”
“What’s he mean—‘late?’” Teddy asked curiously.
“He means wait,” Belle answered, with a smile. “Hold up for a minute,
Roy. He wants to give us something.”
Sing Lung ran towards them, a package in his hand. A broad grin lighted
his face.
“You maybe get hungly, yes?” he said, placing the package in Belle’s
lap. “I flix lunch!”
“That’s very kind of you, Sing Lung,” Belle declared, smiling her
gratitude. Belle was plainly the cook’s favorite. “We’ll be glad to have
this. Thank you, a lot!”
“All lite!” with a still wider grin. “You wal-com’. Goo’-bye. Have nice
time! Jumpee allee slidewalks!”
“He means skip the gutter,” Teddy explained, laughing, as the car
proceeded. “Nick must have taught him that. ‘Jump the slidewalks!’
That’s a hot one! Trust the Chinks to get everything backwards.”
“Never mind; Sing Lung is one good Chink,” Roy declared. “This lunch
will sure come in handy.”
“‘Jump the slidewalks’ means ‘skip the gutter,’ and ‘skip the gutter’
means—perhaps, ‘jump the slidewalks?’ Now, just what did Sing Lung
mean, boys?”
But Belle’s brothers refused to be drawn into explanations or argument.
Seven miles out from their home ranch a report suddenly sounded from
under the car, and it lurched crazily. Roy jammed on the brakes
vigorously.
“Blowout,” he said shortly. “Might have known that ’ud happen! Just when
we get rolling along nicely, the tire goes. Well,” he jumped from the
car and bent down, “she’s done for, all right. And any one who pulls
that old chestnut about ‘only flat on one side’ will have to fix it all
alone! Come on Teddy—you posing for a statue?”
Teddy grinned, and alighted, as did Belle. Luckily, there were two good
spares on the rear, so there was no danger of a long delay. The jack was
soon out, and one of the tires taken from the rack.
When Roy had lifted the spare in position for tightening the lugs, he
stood back for a moment and looked around him.
“This is a great place for a rattler,” he declared, wiping the sweat
from his brow. “Pop said he saw a whole nest of ’em somewhere around
here.”
“Thought you said Pop was full of crazy ideas?” Teddy retorted, thinking
of the porcupine incident when he had told Roy about Pop’s believing the
“shooting quill” theory.
“Well, he may not know porcupines, but he sure does know about snakes,”
the elder youth asserted. “And if you’re wise, you won’t go fooling
around a spot where Pop says there are rattlers. This is one swell day
for ’em, too! Hand me that lug wrench, will you, Teddy?”
Teddy complied, and assisted Roy in fastening the tire to the rim. When
it was firmly attached, Roy straightened and heaved a sigh of relief. As
he did so his eyes swept the horizon, and he stared intently, one hand
shading his eyes.
“What is it, Roy?” Belle asked, looking at her brother.
“Dust,” Roy answered. “See it, Teddy? Top of that hill. Whoever’s making
it must be just below the rise. Wonder if it’s some of Pete Ball’s men?
Likely to be. Come on, let’s get this stuff away and start. We haven’t
got far to go, but that sun’s hotter than all get out. Teddy, how about
making yourself useful, and putting some of these tools away?”
“Sure,” his brother answered. “Thought you wanted to do it all
yourself.”
A pair of pliers had fallen to the ground from the running board, and
Teddy stooped to pick them up, his other hand resting on the door of the
car, while he groped for the tool, bending down low.
“Golly, it’s sure hot!” he exclaimed, still groping and searching. “Why
couldn’t the tire have blown out under a tree? Say, where in thunder are
those pliers, anyhow?”
“Maybe it ’ud help if you _looked_ for ’em, instead of watching that
cloud of dust,” Roy declared, grinning. “Belle, can’t you help your
little brother find the pliers?”
“Got ’em!” Teddy suddenly exclaimed, as his hand closed over them. “They
were away under the car, and I couldn’t see gettin’ down in this dirt to
look for ’em. Anyway—”
He started to withdraw his hand. There was a sudden loud “whir-r-r” as
though a strip of tin were rapidly bent and released. Roy saw Teddy’s
whole body give a convulsive shudder and watched his face go deathly
pale. Pop Burns’ warning flashed to his mind.
“Teddy!” he cried, jumping forward. “Your hand!”
Belle screamed, and ran to her brother’s side. Quickly she seized the
left arm that had been under the auto and turned it over so that the
back of the hand was uppermost. A thin line of blood showed red against
the tan.
Teddy looked at it as though he were examining a curiosity. Then he
laughed—at least, that is the only word to describe the sound that came
from his lips. In a moment he stopped, and caught his breath.
“Got me,” he said simply.
The three stood by the side of the car, shocked into silence. Belle
retained her hold on Teddy’s arm. Roy, his eyes wide, stared at the few
drops of blood. Teddy’s shoulders were thrown back, every muscle rigid.
He looked straight ahead.
Roy was the first to move. He reached out quickly, and seized his
brother’s wrist in a firm grip, squeezing it with all his strength.
“Belle,” he said in a low voice, “reach into my pocket and bring out a
handkerchief. We’ve got to make a tourniquet, so the poison won’t get up
his arm. Quick!”
Drawing in a deep breath, Belle obeyed. Teddy swayed slightly, then got
a grip on himself. His teeth clenched.
“Roy,” he said quietly, “hold my arm over a way.”
Wondering, Roy changed his position. Teddy reached inside his coat with
his right hand, and drew out a gun. Then Roy understood.
Whatever happened, they must kill that rattler. He had bitten—he must
die. His head must be blown from his body, and they must cut him with
lead until his lashings ceased and the tail grew still.
Eyes blazing, Teddy once more bent over. Roy retained his desperate grip
on his brother’s wrist. Belle, eyes wide with horror, stepped back. The
scene was almost too much for her, Western bred though she was. Teddy,
bitten by a crawling death, calmly intent on just one thing—killing the
snake that had bitten him! Roy holding back the poison from his
brother’s body with one hand, while he steadied him with the other, so
that he might not miss!
With her heart in her throat, Belle waited for the shot. After the snake
had been killed—what? She could picture Teddy sitting stoically in the
car as it careened its way toward the ranch—Teddy, his arm black from
the tourniquet, perhaps remarking that Roy would have to take charge of
the place for the rest of the week and would he see that Flash got
enough exercise, and all the while his lips were twisted with burning
pain! Teddy!
Would he never fire? What was he waiting for?
“Shoot! Oh, shoot!” Belle gasped. “Teddy—kill him and come away!”
Still the two boys were bent over, staring beneath the car. Then Belle
saw Roy slowly release his hold on his brother’s wrist. A sound
strangely like a chuckle came from him. What—what had happened?
“Teddy! Roy!” Belle cried. “What is it? Why are you waiting? The
snake—”
For a moment she thought her brothers had gone mad, and well she might,
for, straightening up, the boys burst into roars of laughter. They
leaned weakly against the side of the car, Teddy’s gun hanging limply,
his body shaking with mirth! Roy was pounding him on the back, while he
himself was scarcely able to stand. This was more than laughter, it was
almost hysteria—the hysteria of great and sudden relief.
Then when Roy caught sight of his sister’s face, he sobered.
“It’s all right, sis,” he declared, tears of laughter still in his eyes.
“Don’t look so scared. We’re not crazy—and Teddy isn’t hurt. He didn’t
get bitten by a rattler at all!”
“Didn’t—didn’t—get bitten! Roy, I don’t understand—”
“Look!”
He motioned to his sister to bend down and peer under the car. As he did
so Roy’s hand reached out—and there followed that same “whir-r-r-r”
they had heard before.
“Get it?” Roy exclaimed, his laughter starting up again. “This—this
piece of tin under the running board! See? When I hit it, it whirs.
Teddy’s hand scraped it, and it buzzed and scratched his hand. And we
thought it was a rattler! Oh, baby, what a couple of saps! Wait till dad
and Nick hear about this!”
“He didn’t get bitten?” Belle repeated, hardly able to realize what had
happened. “There wasn’t any snake?” she questioned incredulously.
“Nary snake—just this tin! That’s all!”
With a sob of relief, Belle threw her arms around her brother’s neck.
“Oh, Teddy!” she gasped. “I’m so glad—so glad! Oh, Teddy, I thought you
were going to die! And when you were bending over with the gun, just
thinking about killing the old rattlesnake, I—I—”
“Hey, sis, come out of it!” Teddy said a trifle shakily. He kissed her
full on the lips. “Thought you’d have to play jokes on Roy all alone
after this, did you? Well, I’m still here—and we won’t forget how he
teased you the other night on the porch, either! We’ll get him for that!
I got a great idea—only he’s listening now. When we get home—”
It was just this that was needed to calm Belle. The strain she had been
under had been terrific, and it is no wonder that, when it was over, she
broke down. But now she dried her eyes and raised her head.
“Only a piece of tin!” she exclaimed, a smile coming over her face. “And
even Teddy thought he had been bitten! But whatever it was—I’m glad
you’re all right, Teddy dear! And now, I have an idea.”
Belle was once more herself. Patting her hair, she walked steadily
toward the car. Then she flung open the door and held up a white
package. It was the lunch Sing Lung had prepared.
“Gentlemen,” she cried, “dinner is served! Long live Sing Lung! Come and
get it!”