ON PAROLE.
A new matter of interest claimed the immediate attention of the
defenders within the home of ranchman Whitney.
It will be remembered that the sister had reported the approach of a
horseman, whom she believed to be her brother. The rider was now in
plain sight, and a brief scrutiny through the glass by Hawkridge
removed all doubt; she was right.
He was coming at an easy, swinging gallop, straight toward his home.
He must have seen the rustlers while yet a considerable way off, for
he quickened the pace of his animal, stirred by a natural anxiety for
his loved ones and by a curiosity to know the meaning of the strange
condition of affairs.
Had he understood matters fully, while yet at a distance, he would
have avoided a mistake which occasioned him and his friends intense
regret, and which proved irreparable.
He did not cease his advance until within a hundred yards, when the
cattlemen, who were watching his every movement, saw him bring his
horse to a sudden halt. At the same moment a couple of rustlers moved
into view, their guns held so as to cover him. He sat motionless until
they came up, one on either side, when he was seen to be conversing
earnestly with them.
"They have made him prisoner," remarked Hawkridge, "just as I was sure
they would."
"Will they do him harm?" asked Mrs. Whitney, who, with Jennie, had
descended the stairs and stood with the group near the front door.
"No," was Hawkridge's reassuring reply; "he must see the uselessness
of resistance, and we are not fighting Indians who learned warfare
from the late lamented Sitting Bull."
It was noticed that Fred Whitney, despite the wound of a couple of
days before, no longer wore his arm in a sling. As he had said, he was
ashamed to do so.
Brave as was the young man, he had judgment. He knew that he was at
the mercy of a score of rustlers, and quickly learned the situation.
Capt. Asbury, Monteith Sterry, Dick Hawkridge and a number of
cattlemen were besieged in his home.
While he was holding earnest converse with his captors one of them
turned and addressed Inman, who was out of sight of the besieged,
because of the intervening ridge. His reply caused Whitney to dismount
and walk in that direction, he, too, passing out of the field of
vision.
He was invisible for perhaps ten minutes, when he was seen coming
over the ridge toward his own door, but without his Winchester or
revolvers. A moment later he was admitted. He kissed his mother and
sister and grasped the hands of his friends, who crowded around to
congratulate him and hear what he had to say.
"They told me everything," he replied, looking into the glowing faces,
and smiling at the anxiety depicted on several. "I have made a woeful
mistake, boys."
"How's that?" asked several in the same breath.
"Hankinson and Weber have moved several miles further into the
mountains, so nothing will be seen of them for several days, and
perhaps not for a week. The trouble with the rustlers makes it
necessary that we should keep closer watch than usual upon the stock,
and it is understood that they are not to leave the cattle until they
get word from me. So, as I said, they are out of the question."
"Is that the mistake you refer to?" asked Sterry.
"I wish it was; but a couple of hours ago, Hankinson, who had ridden
a considerable distance beyond the grazing grounds, came in with the
report that a large body of men were camped in a valley a mile or so
further on. There must be fifty at least."
Capt. Asbury emitted a low whistle.
"Rustlers again! By and by we'll have all there are in Wyoming
swarming about this house."
"No; Budd visited them, and found they were cattlemen on the hunt for
rustlers. Had he known of Inman's party out here he would have given
them a pointer, but of course he doesn't dream of anything of the
kind. Now, the mistake I made is this: When I saw the horsemen
gathered about the buildings and ridge, I ought to have wheeled and
ridden as hard as I could to the stockmen. They would have been here
before night and wound up this business in a jiffy. But I kept on and
rode right into the trap set for me, and can do nothing."
No one could question the justice of Whitney's self-condemnation, but
there was no help for it.
"How is it you were allowed to join us?" asked Capt. Asbury.
"I am here under parole; you see they took my horse, rifle and pistols
from me. I would not have been allowed to come to you except upon my
pledge to return within fifteen minutes."
"And what will they do with you, my boy?" asked his mother, alarmed by
the information.
"Nothing, so long as I remain a model prisoner; but how are you fixed
for defence?"
He was quickly made acquainted with the situation of affairs.
"Ah," he added, with a sigh, "if there was some way of getting word to
the stockmen; but I see none."
"They will not be likely to give you a chance?"
Fred shook his head.
"I'm afraid I overdid the thing. I asked them to be allowed to go back
to my cattlemen, but they would not listen to it. They acted as if
they were suspicious, and told me I must stay with them until the
trouble ended, which they assured me would be soon."
Sterry glanced significantly at Asbury and Hawkridge. He recalled that
singular message from Duke Vesey. If all went well, it might contain a
shadow of hope. It was deemed best, however, to make no reference
to it, even for the benefit of Whitney, who was questioned until he
described as exactly as he could the location of the cattlemen.
The grace had expired. No one thought of advising Whitney to disregard
his parole, and no urging could have induced him to do it. He
affectionately kissed and embraced mother and sister, warmly shook the
hands of his friends again, assured them of his hope that all would
come out right, and then, passing through the door, was seen to walk
up the ridge and pass over the summit, to take his place among his
captors, there to await their pleasure.
"Sterry," said Asbury, drawing him and Hawkridge aside, "you were
saying awhile ago that nothing could induce you to accept the offer of
Vesey to slip out in the darkness of the night."
"No; as he presented it, such a flight would have been a piece of
cowardice altogether different from my flight last night. It would
have weakened your defensive force and helped no one but me."
"Now, however, it wears a different aspect."
"Yes, it looks providential, and promises to open the way for the
escape of all. I hardly think," added Sterry, with a smile, "that
with all of Vesey's gratitude to me he would do what he intends if he
foresaw the probable consequences, for it means nothing less than the
overthrow of Inman's plans."
"And the baffling of his charitable intentions concerning myself,"
grimly added the captain.
"It seems to me we forgot one phase of the business," remarked
Hawkridge, "and that is the fact that the chances of failure are a
hundredfold greater than those of success."
His companions looked questioningly at him.
"Perhaps it will not be difficult for Vesey to secure the placing of
himself and friend at the stables, as he promises to do, but it seems
unlikely that, with a dark night and the temptation for some of us
to try to get away, they will be the only couple that will be on the
lookout at that time. But, supposing they are," added Hawkridge,
"Sterry will have to mount his horse and ride off. There will be some
of the rustlers beyond him, and how can he pass them unchallenged?"
"If it proves too risky to try on horseback I can do it on foot,"
replied Sterry; "in the darkness I will be taken for one of them, and,
if questioned, can throw them off their guard. The tramp to where the
stockmen are in camp I judge to be little if any more than five miles,
and it won't take me long to travel that after getting clear of these
people."
"I have a strong belief that the whole scheme is doomed to failure,"
said Hawkridge, and Capt. Asbury agreed with him.