A GOOD DEAL OF EXCITEMENT
Pete twisted himself around to look over his shoulder, but still kept
his clutch on the breathless young man. However, Pratt feebly dragged
his wrists out of the man's grasp.
Frances was riding the pinto directly at them. Under her skillful
guidance the pony's off shoulder must collide with Pete, unless the man
dropped Pratt entirely and sprang aside.
The man did this, uttering a yell of anger. Pratt staggered the other
way and Frances brought Molly to a standstill directly between the two.
"You let him alone!" the girl commanded, gazing indignantly at the
rascally man. "Oh! you shall be paid in full for all you have done this
day. When Captain Rugley hears of this.
"Quick, Pratt!" she shrieked. "That rifle!"
Pete was bent over reaching for the weapon. Frances jerked Molly around,
but she could not drive the pony against the man in time to topple him
over before his wicked fingers closed on the barrel of the gun.
It was Pratt who made the attack in this emergency. He had played on the
Amarillo High football eleven and he knew how to "tackle."
Before Pete could rise up with the recovered weapon in his grasp Pratt
had him around the legs. The man staggered forward, trying to kick away
the young fellow; but Pratt clung to him, and his antagonist finally
fell upon his knees.
Quick as a flash Pratt sprang astride his bowed back. He kicked Pete's
braced arms out from under him and the man fell forward, screaming and
threatening the most awful punishment for his young antagonist.
Frances could not get into the melee with Molly. The two rolled over and
over on the ground and suddenly Pete gave vent to a shriek of pain. He
had rolled on his back into the fire!
"Quick, Pratt!" begged Frances. "Get away from him! He will do you some
dreadful harm!"
She believed Pete would, too. As Pratt leaped aside, the man bounded up
from the bed of hot coals, his shirt afire, and he unable to reach it
with his beating hands!
Pratt ran to Frances' side. She pulled Molly's head around and the pony
trotted across the clearing, with Pratt staggering along at the stirrup
and striving to get his breath.
As they passed the spot where the battle had begun, Pratt stooped and
secured the rifle. Pete, in rage awful to see, was tearing the
smouldering shirt from his back. Then Pete dashed after the escaping
pair.
The rifle encumbered the young man; but if he dropped it he knew the man
would hold them at his mercy. So, swinging the weapon up by its barrel,
he smashed the stock against a tree trunk.
Again and again he repeated the blow, until the tough wood splintered
and the mechanism of the hammer and trigger was bent and twisted. Pete
almost caught him. Pratt dashed the remains of the rifle in his face and
ran on after Frances.
"I'll catch you yet!" yelled Pete. "And when I do----"
The threat was left incomplete; but the man ran for his own horse.
If Frances had only thought to drive Molly that way and slip the hobbles
of Pete's nag, much of what afterward occurred in this hollow by the
river bank would never have taken place. She and Pratt would have been
immediately free.
It was hours afterward--indeed, almost sunset--that old Captain Rugley,
sitting on the broad veranda of the Bar-T ranch-house and expecting
Frances to appear at any moment, raised his eyes to see, instead,
Victorino Reposa slouching up the steps.
"Hello, Vic!" said the Captain. "What do you want?"
"Letter, _Capitan_," said the Mexican, impassively, removing his
big hat and drawing a soiled envelope from within.
"Seen anything of Miss Frances?" asked the ranchman, reaching lazily for
the missive.
"No, _Capitan_," responded the boy, and turned away.
The superscription on the envelope puzzled Captain Dan Rugley. "Here,
Vic!" he cried after the departing youth. "Where'd you get this? 'Tisn't
a mailed letter."
"It was give to me on the trail, _Capitan_," said Victorino,
softly. "As I came back from the horse pasture."
"Who gave it to you?" demanded the ranchman, beginning to slit the flap
of the envelope.
"I am not informed," said Victorino, still with lowered gaze. "The Senor
who presented it declare' it was give to heem by a strange hand at
Jackleg. He say he was ride this way----"
The Captain was not listening. Victorino saw that this was a fact and he
allowed his words to trail off into nothing, while he, himself, began
again to slip away.
The old ranchman was staring at the unfolded sheet with fixed attention.
His brows came together in a portentous frown; and perhaps for the first
time in many years his bronzed countenance was washed over by the sickly
pallor of fear.
Victorino, stepping softly, had reached the compound gate. Suddenly the
forelegs of the ranchman's chair hit the floor of the veranda, and he
roared at the Mexican in a voice that made the latter jump and drop the
brown paper cigarette he had just deftly rolled.
"You boy! Come back here!" called Captain Rugley. "I want to know what
this means."
"Me, _Capitan_?" asked Victorino, softly, and hesitated at the
gate. With his employer in this temper he was half-inclined to run in
the opposite direction.
"Come here!" commanded the ranchman again. "Who gave you this?" rapping
the open letter with a hairy forefinger.
"I do not know, _Capitan_. A strange man--_si_."
"Never saw him before?"
"No, _Capitan_. He was ver' strange to me," whined Victorino, too
frightened to tell the truth.
"What did he look like?" shot back the Captain, holding himself in
splendid control now. Only his eyes glittered and his lips under the big
mustache tightened perceptibly.
"He was beeg man, _Capitan_; rode bay pony; much wheeskers on
face," declared Victorino, glibly.
The Captain was silent for half a minute. Then he snapped: "Run find
Silent Sam and tell him I want him _pronto_. _Sabe?_ Tell Joe
to saddle Cherry, and Sam's horse, and you get a saddle on your own,
Vic. I'll want you and about half a dozen of the boys who are hanging
around the bunk-house. Tell 'em it's important and tell them--yes!--tell
them to come armed. In fifteen minutes. Understand?"
"_Si, Capitan_," whispered Victorino, glad to get out from under
the ranchman's eye for the time being.
He was the oldest of the Mexican boys employed at the Bar-T, and he had
been very friendly with Ratty M'Gill while that reckless individual had
belonged to the outfit.
It was Victorino who had let Ratty drive the buckboard to the railroad
station one particular day when the cowpuncher wished to meet his
friend, Pete, at Cottonwood Bottom.
Now, unthinking and unknowing, he had been drawn by Ratty into a serious
trouble. Victorino did not know what it was; but he trembled. He had
never seen "_El Capitan_" look so fierce and strange before.