GREYHOUND
“Watch the broncs!” Silent yelled. “The feller that threw that is
close!”
Teddy leaped to his feet, his revolver in his hand. The ponies were tied
a little distance from the campfire, and he stumbled toward them through
heavy underbrush.
“Take the left, Nick!” Roy exclaimed. “I’ll follow Teddy. He’s likely to
get a bullet through him, rushing around like that! Get away from the
light of that fire!”
Nick rolled, pulled out his gun, and found himself against a tree. He
got quickly to his feet.
“Don’t shoot, no matter what you see,” Silent yelled hoarsely. “Teddy
an’ Roy are out there--you might hit them.”
But Teddy had reached the horses, and Roy was at his side.
“Didn’t get ’em,” the boy panted. “What do you say we--”
“For the love of Pete, Teddy, we haven’t got a chance in this darkness!
There may be half a dozen men around here, waiting for us to separate
so they can pot us off. Let’s stick together, anyhow.”
“Where are the others?” Teddy had one hand on Flash’s neck. “We’ll never
get this chance again, Roy! Shall we let that scoundrel get away?
Snakes, we could track him! Easy!”
“Not so easily! Now listen. Let’s see where Nick and Silent are. Then
we’ll have a look at the paper--tied to the stone.”
There was a crashing in the brush near them and both boys faced quickly
about, their guns leveled.
“Speak up!” Roy shouted sternly. “Who’s there?”
“Nick,” came the answer. “Silent with you?”
“No, I thought--” Roy, raising his voice, called: “Hey, Silent! Over
this way!”
They waited. There was no reply.
“He’s around some place,” Teddy said anxiously. “If any one is waiting
to knock us off, they know where we are, so a little more noise won’t
hurt. Hey, Silent!”
Still no answer. They listened carefully to hear if any one was walking
near them, but no footsteps disturbed the stillness.
“Maybe he stumbled and fell,” Roy suggested. “We’ll have to go back.
Leave the broncs--no, we’d better tie ’em close to the fire where we
can watch ’em.”
They untied the horses and led them slowly toward the campfire. They
fastened the animals about ten yards from it.
“Silent,” Teddy called again. “Hey, Silent!”
“If he hit his head and knocked himself cold, he’s lyin’ around here,”
Nick said. “He yelled to me an’ I saw him go for the bushes, an’ that’s
the last. You don’t think--” he paused suggestively.
“Well, they didn’t shoot him, that’s sure,” Roy declared. “We’d have
heard the shot. And I don’t think they knifed him, because something
tells me Silent could take care of himself in a game of that sort.”
“But what in thunder happened?” Teddy exclaimed impatiently. “He’s gone,
hasn’t he?”
“He’ll come back,” Roy declared with a confidence he did not feel. “In
the meantime--” he stopped and picked up the stone. Breaking the string
that held the paper to it, he glanced down. Teddy heard him give a
grunt.
“What is it?”
“Here--bring it to the fire, so you can see. What do they think we are?
Kids, to be scared by a thing like that?”
Holding the paper so the firelight flickered upon it, Teddy and Nick,
who leaned over his shoulder, read two words, printed:
LAY OFF
Below was a rude picture of a dog, evidently meant to be a greyhound.
“Lay off!” Nick repeated. “Yea, we’ll lay off all right! By golly, I’d
like to have my hands on the feller who wrote that!”
“So that’s Greyhound’s signature,” Roy mused. “Well, I must say he
picked a good one. A dog! Let’s have the paper, Teddy.” With a sudden
motion he tossed it into the fire. “And now, we’ll have a look for
Silent.”
“Wish we had a few electric flashlights,” Teddy muttered. “Silent may be
lying near us and we’d never know it.”
“We’ll have to take a chance,” Roy said firmly. “Keep your guns ready.
Come on now. Don’t spread. Stick together, and we’ll cover what ground
we can. Move in a circle.”
For two hours the three searched in the vicinity of their camp, walking
in ever widening circles. At the end of that time they returned, to find
the fire nearly out. Teddy wearily replenished it, and threw himself on
the ground.
“No good, I reckon,” he said hopelessly. “He’s not around here. What’s
the plan now, Roy?”
“Nothing, Teddy,” Roy replied in a tired voice. “We’ll have to wait,
that’s all. Try to get some sleep.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Well, I’ll sit up for a while. Then I’ll wake you or Nick and you can
watch. There ought to be some one to keep a lookout.”
“All right.”
Teddy drew his blanket around him, and Nick did the same. Roy sat
upright, his back against a tree, his revolver in his lap. The rifles
were still in their cases by the pile of saddles. A revolver was the
only effective weapon in this situation.
Roy found it difficult to keep his eyes open. Several times he caught
himself nodding and jerked his head upright again. How long it was
before he heard that noise in the bushes he never knew. It may have been
an hour or more, it may have been only a few minutes. But, as he sat
there, there came to his ears the crackle of twigs, as if a man were
treading on them.
“Teddy! Nick!” he whispered. “Snap to it! Here’s--”
The two sleepers awoke and went quickly to where Roy was sitting. The
fire at that moment flared up and the light showed them a man standing
perfectly still not ten feet away.
“Silent!” Nick yelled. “It’s you!”
“It’s me,” came the answer. “Don’t let no bullets ride.” He stepped
forward. They saw that his face was drawn, his eyes haggard.
“Where have you been?” Teddy asked quickly. “What happened?”
Silent waved his hand.
“Nick, will you put on some coffee?”
“Sure, sure!” Nick hastened to comply. Silent seated himself by the
fire, his head in his hands.
“Anything wrong?” Roy demanded. “You hurt?”
The head shook a denial.
“Not hurt--just tired.” He took a deep breath. “Roy, I found it.”
“Found what?”
“Greyhound’s camp. It’s about seven miles from here. I tracked the guy
who threw that note--I tracked him miles. He had a pony a little way out
from here. I had to run then. Run behind the bronc, for seven miles!
Snakes!”
“Here,” Nick said. “Drink this!” He held out a tin cup filled with hot
coffee. “That’ll fix you up.”
Silent buried his nose in the cup without a word. Hot as the liquid was,
he finished it without raising his head.
“Baby, that’s good,” he declared, and his voice was stronger now. “A
little more, Nick, if you have any left.” Suddenly he flung his chin
up. “Say, did you guys hear what I said? I found Greyhound’s camp!”
“I reckon you know the answer to that?” Roy said quietly.
“Well, I was hopin’, boys--I was hopin’. You’ll go with me now?”
“We will, Silent.”
He thrust out his hand and gripped Roy’s.
“Fellers, what I’m wantin’ to say I can’t, ’cause I’m not built
that-a-way. But I guess you understand.” He stopped and turned aside.
“One more swig of coffee an’ I’ll be with you.”
“Let’s get the saddles on,” Teddy said swiftly. “Nick, you see what you
can do for Silent an’ we’ll saddle your bronc. Give him something to eat
if he’ll take it.”
“Nothin’ to eat,” Silent declared. “One more cup of coffee, that’s all.”
Then, when the horses had been saddled, they set out in the darkness.
Silent, veteran plainsman that he was, knew the way was clear to him. He
had gone over the route on foot, and could not mistake it, even in that
blackness with only a hint of moon shining through clouds to relieve it.
Their path, with Silent leading, was up hill.
“Before we get there, we’d better have a plan of action,” Roy declared.
Unconsciously his voice was lowered, as though there were those about
who might hear. “How many men are in the camp Silent?”
“Four. But I think there’s another that I didn’t see. They have a tent
with the broncs tied near it. A cliff of some sort rises at the back.”
“They can’t get through that way?”
“Don’t see how.”
Roy thought for a moment before he spoke again.
“Silent,” he said, “there’s one thing I’ve got to say. We’re not riding
these men down to shoot them like dogs, even though that’s what they
are. We’re going to round ’em up and take ’em back to camp.”
“I see, Roy.” Silent’s voice was a monotone. “Reckon you’re right. But
when I see the skunk who shot my dad an’ brother in cold blood--”
“I know, Silent,” Roy broke in. “But we’re not like that, see? We can’t
do it!”
“Nope, we can’t.” Silent swallowed audibly. “You got my word, Roy.”
“That’s the fight! It’s best, Silent--you know that.”
“Yea, I know that, Roy. All right. That’s over. Now here’s what I think
we ought to do. It’ll be morning soon, and the best time to get those
rascals would be at dawn when there’s light enough to see, but not too
much.”
“That seems good to me,” Roy agreed. All thought of fatigue had fled
from him and from his companions. Their blood was racing fast.
“O. K. Then that’s settled. We’ve got an hour yet--maybe two. When we
come close to their camp I want you to get off your bronc an’ take a
look at it. That’s so you’ll know the lay of the land. We won’t have to
go so close, but there’s not much danger--they’re all asleep now.
Greyhound thinks he’s hot stuff--doesn’t even need a guard.” A thin
smile curved Silent’s lips.
They rode for some time longer, then Silent called a halt. They were
near the camp of the outlaws.
“Come on, Roy,” Silent whispered. “You fellows wait here. We’ll be back
in ten minutes.”
“And if you’re not?” Teddy asked in a low voice.
“We will be. Let’s go!”
Silent and Roy dismounted and were off. Nick and Teddy awaited them
impatiently, every minute seeming like an hour. But finally they
returned, and again mounted their ponies. The first faint blush of the
false dawn tinged the east.
“Well, boys--” Roy turned and faced the others--“reckon it’s about the
zero hour. I saw enough of the camp to think we can get the rascals
without getting hurt. Silent will be on one end of the line and I’ll be
on the other. Teddy, you and Nick can ride in the center. Keep about ten
feet apart. Just beyond here there’s a clearing, and we’ll ride through
to that. The tent is right in the middle. Go easy at first, and keep
together! Soon as we reach the clearing, Silent is going to fire a shot.
Use your revolvers--rifles will be no good. But don’t shoot any
one--unless in self-defense. We want to capture these fellows, not kill
’em. All set?”
“We’ll keep as much as possible to the protection of the trees,” Teddy
said. “It would be pretty easy for those men to pot us from inside their
tent.”
“We’ll have to chance that,” Roy replied. “Well?”
“Let’s go!”
Quietly, silently they rode through the woods. In the east the sky was
becoming grey. Birds were awakening. Nature stretched, and yawned.
Suddenly the clearing was before them. The tent stood like a white,
sluggish animal that had fallen asleep there. A few feet behind the tent
was the cliff. Five horses were tied to trees near by. Roy was thankful
for the light which made all this visible.
In another moment the signal would be given. A gun was raised.
Crack!
Silent’s revolver had spoken.
“Come out of there, you guys!”
“Come a-runnin’!”
“Greyhound, we want you!”
A head poked from the tent flap and was as quickly withdrawn. A rifle
came next, with a man behind it.
Teddy took aim and fired. The rifle dropped from the man’s hand. His
right arm hung useless.
“Getting to be expert at that!” Teddy yelled. “The next one who pulls a
gun goes down! Found out we mean business, hey?”
“Greyhound!” Silent roared the name. “Greyhound, come out o’ that!”
“I’m comin’!”
The wounded man who stood holding to the flap of the tent was thrust
aside. A figure, one arm in a sling, burst into the open. In his
uninjured hand he held not a revolver, but a rifle!
“Somebody want me?”
The rifle was raised--with one hand Greyhound raised and aimed it. His
finger touched the trigger and Silent’s hat sailed off.
Silent, head up, face grim as death, leveled his gun.
“Greyhound,” he shouted, “you’re finished!”
The gun was aimed straight at the outlaw’s breast. He stood not ten feet
from Silent, a perfect target. But he did not move. Then, slowly,
Silent’s gun was lowered.
“You can’t reload,” Silent said simply. “I’m a different breed from you,
Greyhound. I give you back your life.”
Teddy and Roy stared at the man called Greyhound. He stood not less than
six feet four, with huge shoulders and arms. Alone in that clearing he
stood, defying them all. At least, Greyhound was not a coward.
“Drop that rifle,” Roy called sternly. “Drop it, and tell your men to
come out here with their hands in the air!”
For a moment rage came over the face of the man. Then he shrugged his
shoulders.
“What’s the use?” he muttered. “It’s over. Come out, boys--we’re done
for. Leave the guns behind.”
He tossed the rifle carelessly to the ground. His eyes were fixed on
Silent’s face.
“You ain’t goin’ to shoot?”
“No, Greyhound, I ain’t goin’ to shoot,” Silent replied slowly. “There’s
others that you have to settle with. Roy, he’s your prisoner.”
One by one the bandits filed from the tent, their hands held high. Teddy
counted five, including Greyhound. All were accounted for. The man who
had been shot stood by the tent, groaning.
“Nick, search ’em,” Roy said. “Then let that baby who’s making all that
noise sit down.”
Nick obeyed. Two of the outlaws had guns, and he tossed them away.
“How about their broncs, Roy?”
“They’ll ride those back to Nugget Camp.”
“Here!” Teddy dismounted, and went toward the tent. “Nick, let’s use a
bit of this rope. They won’t need it any more.”
Together he and Nick stripped the tent of its ropes, and bound the hands
of the prisoners, all but the injured man. Greyhound’s well arm was tied
behind his back. Then they were ordered to mount their ponies.
From his horse Greyhound glanced carelessly at Silent.
“Reckon we swing--hey?” he asked, sneeringly.
“You’ll get a fair trial,” Silent said harshly. “If you’re guilty you’ll
swing.”
“If we’re guilty!” Greyhound laughed loudly. “Well, boys, it was fun
while it lasted! I told you hard luck followed me, but you thought I was
kiddin’. I wasn’t. Now, you guys--” he turned toward Teddy--“there’s one
you missed. He’s hidin’ under a blanket. It won’t be hangin’ for him, so
he might as well come out. His bronco is tied down the trail a piece.
Allen!”
From the tent came a pitiful figure, white-faced in the lightening dawn.
It was the swindler from Nugget Camp.
Nick eyed him frowningly.
“Allen,” Greyhound said, “here’s some friends of yours. Want to take a
little ride with ’em?”
“Don’t kill me!” Allen moaned, trembling violently. “Don’t shoot me!
I’ll tell you everything! There’s fifty thousand dollars’ worth of gold
in this tent! You can have it all, but don’t shoot!”
“That, boys, is our bootblack!” Greyhound exclaimed, laughing loudly.
“What he says is true. You might as well have the gold. I’ll leave it to
you in my will.” He laughed again. “If that fellow Decker we shot a
month ago is still livin’, some of it belongs to him. He sure worked for
it.”
“Jerry Decker!” Teddy cried. “Then he will get his nuggets back!”
“There’s some of it comin’ to you, too,” Greyhound went on, nodding
toward Silent. A puzzled frown came to his face. “I can’t understand
it,” he muttered. “I can’t understand it a-tall! There you stand with a
gun an’ me in front of you, me the feller who killed your folks, an’ you
don’t shoot!”
“We’re not like you, Greyhound,” Roy said shortly. “We’re not
murderers.”
“Murderers?” The man repeated the word, as though he did not understand.
“Oh, that’s what I am, hey? Well, maybe you’re right. Well, that’s all.”
His voice dropped. He turned wearily to Roy. “If you’re ready, we may as
well start.”
Head down, shoulders bent forward, he started down the long trail just
as the sun tossed the first beams over the hills.