CONCLUSION.
"Now, Jack, do your best, for everything depends on you."
Jennie Whitney looked around in the darkness and saw the glimmer of
the rustlers' camp-fire, fully two hundred yards to the rear, with the
shadowy figures moving to and fro.
"They may change their minds," she added, recalling the words of Larch
Cadmus, "and decide to bring me back. Let them do it if they can!"
The intelligent pony acted as if he understood what was expected
of him. With a light whinny at the pleasure he felt because of the
opportunity of stretching out his beautiful limbs he broke into a
swift canter, heading straight for the point where his rider believed
the friendly camp was to be found.
She held the reins loose, knowing the danger of attempting to guide
him where it was impossible to keep the points of the compass in mind.
The way was smooth and even, although there is always danger in
going at such speed in the night. She deemed the stake warranted it,
however, and did not check the rapid pace.
Night on every hand and not a shining star overhead. If she could find
the party of stockmen in time, so as to bring them back to her home,
their strength would overawe the rustlers, and the whole difficulty
could be arranged without the conflict which she looked upon with
unspeakable dread.
"It will save him, too," she added, hesitating to pronounce the name
that was in her heart, which would have throbbed more painfully had
she known that in a brief while he would be helpless in the power of
the men eager for his life. "I am glad he did not venture out of the
house, when his friend could have done him no good. What will he think
of me on learning what I have done? He will say that I am rash and
foolish, and perhaps I am; will he suspect that it was to save him
that I undertook this errand, which, after all, is attended with no
risk to me worth mentioning?"
These were pleasant musings, but the task before her was too serious
and made too close demands on her mental and physical energies for her
to indulge in them. The delightful reverie could be deferred to a more
convenient season.
Jennie Whitney had lived long enough in the West to understand that in
times like the present it is safer to depend on the instinct of one's
heart than upon one's reason. It seemed now and then that Jack was
following the wrong direction, but she was wise in not interfering.
The gloom was so deep that she could see barely a few paces beyond the
pointed ears in front, but when the ground showed an abrupt rise she
recalled the location and knew he had followed the exact course she
desired.
She pulled slightly on the reins and he dropped to a walk. At the same
moment something dark moved aside, the pony diverting his own steps to
avoid it. She experienced a slight shock of fright, but recognized
the object as one of the cattle probably belonging to their own herd.
Others showed dimly here and there as the horse carefully picked his
way forward.
"Halloo, who's that?" called a gruff voice from the darkness, the hail
proving more startling than the first surprise.
"It is I, Jennie Whitney," replied the young lady, "and I am searching
for help."
"Well, I'll be hanged! What's up, Miss Jennie?"
It was Budd Hankinson who came forward on foot, his figure appearing
of gigantic proportions in the gloom. He was more alarmed than she, as
he had warrant for being, knowing, as he did, that some extraordinary
cause must have brought the girl to this place alone at that hour of
the night.
She quickly told her story, explaining that Fred was held a prisoner
by the rustlers, else he would have hastened back to secure the
assistance for which she was looking.
"You're a brave girl," said the honest fellow, as he laid his hand on
the reins of the pony; "there are mighty few that would have done what
you've done to-night."
"Never mind about that, Budd, but tell me what to do."
"Why, you mustn't do anything; I'll do the rest."
"No, you may help me, but what is it to be?"
"Luck's running your way, Jennie; the stockmen have moved their camp
since Fred left this morning."
"Mercy! I thought I had only two or three miles farther to go."
"Their camp isn't more'n half a mile off, right over the swell yonder;
we'll be there in a jiffy."
"And you will go with me?"
"Wal, I reckon; what sort of a chap do you take me for?"
"Where is Weber?"
"Three miles to the south, which is in t'other direction; we won't
have time to look him up, and it wouldn't do any good if we did. We
made a change of grazing grounds, as I s'pose Fred told you, but some
of the cattle strayed off here and I was looking 'em up when I heard
your pony."
"Where's your horse?"
"Not far; wait here and I'll be right back."
He was gone but a few minutes, when he returned in the saddle.
"It won't do to go too fast," he explained, moving forward with his
animal on a walk, "but we can keep beside each other."
Riding thus carefully, he questioned her about the stirring incidents
at the house, and she gave him the particulars. The sagacious fellow
had seen before this how matters stood between her and Monteith
Sterry, and he knew her anxiety, but his good taste prevented any
reference to it further than to say:
"I hope Mont will be too wise to try to slip out of the house, for if
he does he's sure to be grabbed up by them, and they won't give him a
chance for his life."
"Do you think he will make the attempt, Budd?"
"No, now that he knows you have started, for you've got a mighty sight
better chance to succeed than he could have. Of course he has too much
sense for anything of the kind."
It was well that neither of them suspected the truth.
"There they are!"
They had reached the top of the elevation, and saw before them
the twinkling lights of several camp-fires. The stockmen, fully
understanding the nature of the work they had undertaken, conducted
themselves like a force invading a hostile country. Regular sentinels
were stationed, to prevent the insidious approach of an enemy.
The couple rode down the hill, and, as they expected, were challenged
on the edge of the camp. Inasmuch as Budd had visited the men during
the day and formed numerous acquaintances, he had little difficulty in
making himself known. All, excepting the guards, had retired for the
night, but the visitor was conducted to the place where Maj. Sitgraves
was asleep, Jennie remaining on the outskirts with one of the
sentinels, who treated her with all courtesy.
Maj. Sitgraves was a brave man, who had only to hear the story brought
to him by the honest cowboy to understand the urgency of the case. It
was now near midnight, and the attack at the ranch was liable to be
made at any moment. The stockmen could not reach the scene of danger
too soon.
Almost instantly the camp was astir. It looked as if the men had
received orders to attack a force of Indians, whose location was just
made known to them, and, in point of fact, the situation was somewhat
similar, for a brisk fight appeared inevitable. Three rustlers whom
the major was particularly anxious to arrest were Ira Inman, Larch
Cadmus and Duke Vesey, and he especially wanted the first two. They
were with the party not far off, and, aside from the call for help of
the imperilled stockmen, the prospect of capturing those fellows was
sufficient warrant for a prompt movement.
Within half an hour after Jennie Whitney's meeting with Budd Hankinson
the party of half a hundred were galloping westward, she riding at
the head, with Maj. Sitgraves and Budd, who acted as guide to the
expedition.
Hope arose with every rod advanced, for if fighting had begun the
reports of the guns would be heard, but the listening ears failed to
catch the first hostile sound from the Whitney ranch. By and by a
point was reached which would have shown them the flash of the guns,
but the gloom remained impenetrable.
The twinkling camp-fire, at the base of the ridge, gave just the
guidance needed, and, with Budd Hankinson's intimate knowledge of the
country, enabled the force to tell exactly where they were.
Maj. Sitgraves decided to defer his attack until daylight, unless
the safety of the beleaguered cattlemen should force him to assault
sooner. In the darkness, with the open country around, and the
excellent animals at the command of the rustlers, most of them would
escape upon learning the strength of the assailants. At the earliest
dawn the stockmen could be so placed that, as the commander believed,
nearly if not quite all of the law-breakers would be corralled.
Accordingly, a halt was made while yet a considerable way off, and
Budd Hankinson went forward on foot to reconnoitre. Upon his report
must depend the action of the stockmen.
The fellow was gone more than three-quarters of an hour, and when he
came back he brought astounding news.
Not a solitary rustler was to be found anywhere near the ranch.
Hardly able to credit the fact, Budd picked his way to the building,
knocked, and was admitted. There the amazing truth was made known.
Capt. Ira Inman and all his men had been gone for an hour, and were
probably miles distant at that moment.
The detention of Duke Vesey as a hostage for the safety of Monteith
Sterry proved the key to the whole situation. When Inman learned how
he had been outwitted he was enraged to the point of ordering an
attack at once, with the resolve to give mercy to no one. He even
threatened to visit his fury upon Fred Whitney, who had shown such
punctilious regard for his parole, for it would seem that under the
circumstances he would have been warranted in staying behind with his
friends.
But before taking so rash a step, the cooler judgment of the leader
came to his rescue--He placed a high value on Duke Vesey, who had been
associated with him in several dangerous enterprises, and he knew that
any harm done to Sterry would recoil on him, just as the grim Capt.
Asbury had threatened.
After prolonged discussion with Cadmus and others, it was decided to
offer to exchange Sterry for Vesey. The proposition was accepted,
and the exchange faithfully made, though considerable more delay was
involved.
But while it was under way Inman learned of Jennie Whitney's flight
toward the Big Horn Mountains. Keener of wit than Larch Cadmus, he
suspected the truth at once, though he knew nothing of the proximity
of the stockmen.
Before making the attack and attempt to burn the building he sent
out two of his best mounted men in the direction taken by her, to
investigate. They did so with such skill that neither Budd Hankinson
nor any of the stockmen suspected them. They returned with news of the
approach of a body too powerful for them to think of combating. They
therefore fled in the darkness, the promptness of the leaders probably
hastened by the knowledge that they were the parties for whom the
stockmen were looking.
And so ended the campaign. The situation had been critical for a long
time, and there were moments, time and again, when the most trifling
incident intervened to avert a fearful conflict between men of the
same race and blood; but all had now passed, and it may be said that
not so much as a hostile shot had been exchanged.
The main events of the troubles in Wyoming between the cowmen and
rustlers are too well remembered to require recital at our hands. The
expedition referred to in another place left Cheyenne in April for
Nolan's Ranch, a hundred or more miles distant. Within the following
month, the Sixth U.S. Cavalry brought all of them back to Cheyenne as
prisoners of war, thus saving them from extermination at the hands of
the indignant rustlers, who had them hemmed in on all sides.
Fred Whitney sold out his ranch, near the headwaters of Powder River,
and moved eastward. He was not actuated by fear, for it will be
conceded that he proved his courage, but he desired to take his loved
mother and sister away from the sorrowful memories that must always
cling to the place.
It will not surprise the reader to learn, further, that Monteith
Sterry found it quite convenient to make his home in the same
neighborhood with the Whitneys, and it was but a short time after this
removal eastward that a most pleasing incident occurred in the lives
of the young man and Miss Whitney, of the nature of which we are sure
the reader does not need to be told.