A DELICATE SITUATION.
Few men possessed more courage than Fred Whitney, and he was
thoroughly aroused.
Sitting in front of his own home during the evening, it naturally
happened that he was without any weapon at immediate command. His
Winchester and revolvers, his inseparable companions, during those
stirring times, whenever away from home, were inside. It need not be
said that every one of the rustlers had his "guns" in his possession,
so he was a single, defenceless man against four armed ones.
Nevertheless, he strode forward in front of the open door, determined
to make good his threat.
"You talk of cowards," he said; "you are four, and each has his
pistols and rifle; I have none and one arm is wounded, but I defy
you!"
"Come, come," said the leader, "this will do you no good; we're bound
to have that man, and if he won't come out we must go after him. If
you stand in the way we'll pitch you aside. We don't want to hurt
you."
"Advance at your peril--"
"Fred, move a little to the left--that will do. I've got a bead on him
now."
It was the voice of Mont Sterry, a few feet away, in the darkness of
the room. The muzzle of his rifle, however, projected just enough
to reflect the moonlight, and it was leveled at the breast of Larch
Cadmus.
"One step," added Sterry, "and you're a dead man."
"Larch Cadmus," said Fred, thrilled by the occurrence, "for we
recognize you despite those whiskers, I never knew Mont Sterry to
break his word!"
Language cannot do justice to the situation. At the very moment the
miscreant was about to advance to hurl Whitney from his path he was
confronted by the muzzle of a loaded rifle, held by a man who was in
deadly earnest, and who realized he was at bay.
The startled ruffian recoiled a step and stared into the darkened
room, as if he failed to grasp the situation.
"Not a step in any direction," said Sterry, warningly; "if you attempt
to retreat, advance, or move aside, I'll fire."
It would be a rash thing for any one to deny that the young inspector
had secured the "drop" on Larch Cadmus.
But the man was accustomed to violence, and it took him but a minute
to rally.
"Pretty well done, I'll own," he said, with a forced laugh; "but what
good is it going to do you? There are three more of us here and a
half-dozen hardly a hundred yards away."
"And what good will they do you?"
"Spark," said Cadmus, "slip back to the boys and give 'em the tip;
we'll see about this thing."
"The moment Spark or either of the other two stirs I'll let the
moonlight through _you!_ I'm going to keep my gun pointed right at
you, Mr. Cadmus. If those fellows think I'm worth more than you, they
have a chance to prove it, for only one of them has to take the first
step to leave, when I'll press this trigger just a little harder than
now. More than that, if one of them shouts, whistles, or makes any
kind of a signal, I'll do as I threaten. If any man doesn't think so,
let him make the trial."
"Well, I'll be hanged!" muttered Larch Cadmus; "this _is_ a go!"
Judging from the new turn of affairs, it looked as if a single
individual had the "drop" on four others.
It struck Larch Cadmus that this was a good occasion for something in
the nature of a compromise.
"See here, Sterry," he said, assuming an affected jocularity which
deceived no one, "I'll own you've played it on me mighty fine. But you
can't stand there all night with your Winchester p'inted at me, and
bime-by I'll git tired; can't we fix the matter up some way?"
"Fred," said Sterry, with the same coolness shown from the first,
"slip through the door; you know where your gun is; stoop a little,
so I won't have to shift my aim; when that is done we'll talk about
compromise."
Fred Whitney, as quick as his companion to "catch on," did instantly
what was requested. He dodged into the darkened apartment, with which,
of course, he was so familiar that he needed the help of no light to
find his weapon.
Had Larch Cadmus been as subtle as his master, perhaps he might have
prevented this by ordering one of his men to cover Whitney with his
gun, though it is more than probable that Sterry still would have
forced the leading rustler to his own terms.
But there was one among the four with the cunning of a fox; he was
Spark Holly, who had located the inspector when in front of the house.
At the moment Cadmus was brought up all standing, as may be said,
Holly stood so far to one side that he was not in the young man's
field of vision. He, like his two companions, could have slipped off
at any moment without danger to himself, but it would have been at the
cost of their leader's life; nor could they shift their position and
raise a weapon to fire into the room, where there was a prospect
of hitting the daring youth at bay, without precipitating that
catastrophe.
The instant, however, Fred Whitney turned his back on the rustlers,
Holly saw his opportunity. He vanished.
The others, more sluggish than he, held their places, dazed,
wondering, stupefied, and of no more account than so many logs of
wood.
Shrewd enough to do this clever thing, Spark Holly was too cautious to
spoil it by allowing his movement to be observed. Had he darted over
the plain in front of the house, Mont Sterry would have seen the
fleeing figure, understood what it meant, and, carrying out his
threat, shot down Larch Cadmus.
Holly lost no time in dodging behind the structure, moving with the
stealth of an Indian in the stillness of the night. Then he made a
circuit so wide that, as he gradually described a half-circle and came
round to the point whence he had first advanced to the dwelling, he
was so far off that the keenest vision from the interior could not
catch a glimpse of him.
Certain of this, he ran only a short distance, when he came up with
the half-dozen mounted rustlers of whom Cadmus had spoken, and who
were wondering at the unaccountable delay.
The messenger quickly made everything plain, and they straightway
proceeded to take a hand in the business.