THE OLD MINER
A boxer who has trained his muscles to react automatically and to dodge
a blow from an antagonist almost before it has started, does not
consciously order his knees to bend or his body to shift. Those things
happen without deliberate volition, simply because the habit has been
formed. Thus, when Teddy and Roy heard that shot, they crouched low in
their saddles and jumped their mounts forward without the loss of a
second. It was Star’s bridle pulling him that caused Teddy to hesitate
and to give thought to the best procedure.
Roy flashed ahead, intent on the pursuit of the men who, undoubtedly,
had been engaged in the commission of something they wanted to keep
hidden.
He was actually gaining on them when he heard his brother shout:
“Roy! Come back here! Here’s a man dying!”
Roy pulled up his pony. The two men gave a quick glance to the rear and
swung to the right, mounting the hill. They evidently thought the chase
had been abandoned.
“Never mind about them, Roy! I need help here!”
Roy yanked the bronco’s head in the air and turned him as on a pivot. He
could hear his brother, but could not see him.
“Where are you?”
The question remained unanswered, for at that moment Roy reached the
edge of the trees and saw Teddy.
The boy had dismounted and was leaning over a figure stretched out under
a pine tree. The two ponies stood near by.
“Right, Teddy! Be with you in a second.”
Roy slid from the pony before it had come to a full stop. Then he was at
his brother’s side and staring down at the body of a man--a miner, from
his clothes--who lay breathing noisily, a thin trickle of blood running
from his neck and spreading over the blue denim shirt.
“Got it good,” Teddy whispered. “Afraid he’s going to pass out pretty
soon.”
The man was past fifty, from his grey hair, and nearly sixty from the
lines creased deeply in his face. His eyes were sunken, the cheeks
hollow, betokening much hardship. About six feet tall he was, with long
arms that now lay like rods of flesh at his sides. The fingers opened
and closed convulsively, then quieted.
As Roy bent toward him, he thought how much this unfortunate reminded
him of Pop Burns, an old hand on the X Bar X. Tall, thin, grizzled, same
facial characteristics, same broad forehead and large ears.
“Enough to be his brother,” Roy muttered.
Teddy nodded, understanding the remark.
“Does look like Pop,” he said in a low voice. “Gosh, he’s bleeding.”
Roy tore the handkerchief from his head and, using another and smaller
one for a pad, he bound up the wound. Unskilled as the boys were in
matters pertaining to surgery, they saw that the jugular vein was not
severed, but that the blood came from smaller vessels beneath the skin.
“He’s got a chance if we can stop the bleeding,” Roy declared. “I wonder
why--”
The man groaned and opened his eyes. They stared up at the two boys
unseeing, and after a moment closed again.
“Wants to say something,” Teddy muttered. “Lie still, sir. You’ll be all
right. Just lie still.”
Roy shook his head. The man’s face was growing greyer every second.
“We’ve got to get him out of here! Teddy, there’s only one thing to do.
You ride like the mischief for the ranch and get Mr. Ball or somebody to
bring a car. See if you can bring some aromatic spirits of ammonia.
I’ll wait here.”
“Right!” Teddy wasted no words, but swung himself into the saddle.
“Suppose they come back?” he called suddenly, as Flash started.
“Go on!” Roy yelled. “I can take care of myself!”
Teddy raised his elbows and Flash galloped away. In a moment horse and
rider were out of sight.
Roy sat down on the ground beside the man, stretched his left leg out,
and carefully raised the man’s head. Using his leg as a cushion, he
managed to elevate the head and shoulders, so that the flow of blood
somewhat diminished. As he did so, he noticed that there was no gun in
the holster that lay by the man’s side.
“Murderers!” he muttered viciously. “Took his gun away and then shot
him. Fine bunch! Something tells me we’re going to have a look for the
boys who did this job. I think I’d recognize ’em if I saw ’em again.”
He touched the bandage lightly and observed that the bleeding had almost
stopped. There was a dark stain on his leather chaps and on the ground
near the man’s head.
“Lost plenty. They sure tried their best to finish him. They took his
bronc, too. Maybe they had it in for him. Looks like a miner to me. Poor
old geezer!”
He was talking aloud without realizing it, and, of a sudden, the man’s
lips began to move. Roy bent closer.
“Take it easy, old boy,” he said soothingly. “Don’t try to talk. We’ll
soon have you fixed up.”
“Did they--did they--”
The voice was scarcely more than a whisper.
“Everything’s all right,” Roy insisted. “Don’t worry. You’ll have plenty
of time to talk later. Just lie still now.”
“--get it?” The lips moved, then were quiet.
Roy thought the man had lapsed into unconsciousness again, but the
nostrils were twitching.
“They didn’t get anything,” the boy said stoutly. “And we’ll get them,
too, as soon as you’re fixed up!” A quick suspicion flashed through his
mind. This was a robbery. The man had been carrying a sum of money and
had been waylaid and robbed. Little as he knew about the case, Roy
realized that the thing to do was to relieve the man’s mind as much as
possible.
“It’s safe,” he said, talking as he would to a child. “They didn’t get
it. Forget about that. It’s all right--all right.”
“I’m--I’m thankful!”
The whole body seemed to relax still more and the chest rose and fell
with better regularity. Roy looked swiftly about him.
“Teddy ought to be back any minute,” he said to himself. “Maybe I’m
lying to this fellow, but it’s for the best. He won’t have a show if he
starts to fret about what he lost.”
The minutes passed. Roy’s leg stiffened and a painful cramp seized his
thigh. But he moved it not an inch. The least motion might start the
bleeding again, and the longer the flow of blood was arrested, the
better chance the man had for recovery.
Finally, after what seemed weeks of waiting, Roy heard the exhaust of a
car and a screeching of brakes as it came to a stop just outside the
fringe of trees. A man came running toward him.
“Bug Eye!” Roy called softly. He held up his hand. “Take it mighty
easy,” he said. “The bleeding’s stopped. We don’t want to start it
again.”
“Who is he? What happened? Snakes, he sure looks done in!” Bug Eye, a
puncher on the 8 X 8, bent over solicitously, a look of awe on his face.
Bug Eye was young and impressionable. Every emotion showed plainly on
his frank features.
“Don’t know,” Roy answered. He glanced toward his brother, who, at that
moment, came upon the scene.
“Couldn’t find Mr. Ball. Got Bug Eye and a car as soon as I could,”
Teddy explained. “Told Curly to see that a bed was fixed up. They’ve
already telephoned for a doctor. Nell thought it was you, at first--had
an awful time convincing her it wasn’t. She wanted to come with us. Say,
what’s the orders? Are we--”
“Have to get him to the car,” Roy said swiftly. “One of you hold his
head and shoulders while I get from under.”
Bug Eye placed his arms about the man’s body and held him while Roy
removed his leg. The circulation had stopped, and when he tried to step
forward he would have toppled over had not Teddy caught him.
“Asleep,” Roy declared, slapping and pinching the leg. “Be all right in
a second. Now!” He straightened. “This isn’t going to be any cinch,
Teddy. Bug Eye, you kneel down and get your arms under his legs. Teddy,
you get next to Bug Eye, and support his back. I’ll watch his head.
Careful, now! Easy!”
Inch by inch they raised the unconscious man, and then walked with him
toward the car slowly, for the least jar might start a hemorrhage.
“Who shot him?” Bug Eye whispered.
“Don’t know who they were. I saw ’em, though.” Roy stopped and frowned
for silence. He did not want the man to hear what really had happened,
in case he were able to listen.
The auto Teddy had brought was a touring car with a large rear seat. The
top was down.
“Good,” Roy said, as he saw it. “In the back with him. You go first, Bug
Eye, then get out the other door. That’s it.”
They lifted the man and, under Roy’s direction, succeeded in placing him
on the rear seat, Teddy still holding his body and Roy his head. Bug Eye
released his hold on the legs and slid out the opposite door.
“I’ll tie the broncs to the back,” Bug Eye stated. “They can easy follow
at the speed I’ll be goin’.”
So intense was the moment that the puncher neither noticed the cut on
Roy’s head nor the condition of Star. He fastened the ponies to the top
supports, and then got behind the wheel.
“As easy as you know how, Bug Eye,” Teddy cautioned. “Watch for every
bump and slow down. All right. Let’s go!”
The starter whirred, the motor awoke, and the car began to move. Roy
studied the man’s face anxiously. He and Teddy tried to hold the body so
that it was absolutely immovable, but that was impossible. The plains
are vastly different from a macadamized road. Try as they would, the
boys could not keep the man from shifting a little.
The right arm moved and the hand clutched at the pocket.
“What’s he want?” Teddy whispered.
Roy did not answer. When the man lay quiet again, he touched his side
lightly. The pocket was empty. As he held him, Roy could feel that there
was nothing resembling a bag of money or gold about his person. The
trousers were of khaki, and, unlike the trousers of a cow puncher,
fitted tightly.
Roy looked at his brother and his lips formed the words:
“Whatever he had is gone, Teddy.”
He hesitated a moment. The man was limp, obviously unconscious. There
was no danger of his hearing now.
“He’s been robbed,” Roy said.