INDIAN TACTICS
It was a failing of McIvor's, this instant response to the call of
any friend for aid; and yet when Meshackatee laid his plans before
him he was glad he had agreed to join him. For Meshackatee above all
things was a man of action; and action, with Hall, was a necessity. All
the days he had spent prowling in the hills like an animal had been
wasted, as he looked back at them now; for Allifair's brothers would
come, and come soon, if only to kill a McIvor. They were hard men to
deal with, or had proved so to him, and there was many an old score
that might be settled even yet if they could pick up his trail again.
He had been lost before, given up for dead by his parents and the men
of both clans; but this call from their aunt, and their sister's love
affair, would bring them from wherever they lurked. And now, unless he
was willing to see her snatched away, he must strike a last blow to win
Allifair.
"No, I'll tell you," expounded Meshackatee, "they's no use doing
anything until we've throwed the hooks into Isham. He's the leader
of the gang and as long as he's there you can't git away with that
girl. He's got men on the trails, and Injun spies out everywhere, to
say nothing of them organized horse-thieves; and whichever way you
ride he's going to reach out and git you--unless, of course, you git
him. Now here's the proposition, and I'll put it to you straight, jest
exactly as it was put up to me. We're deputy sheriffs, see, drawing ten
dollars per diem to serve these here warrants on the Scarboroughs; but
I've been told unofficially that the county'll be jest as well pleased
if they're killed while resisting arrest. The idee is to git 'em to
resist. Tonto County, as I understand it, has got jest enough money to
pay for deputies, but none for expensive court proceedings. When it
comes to a showdown, the Scarborough outfit has got more money than the
county--and you know what these lawyers are like. But that ain't our
business, we're here to serve these warrants, and I'm going to start in
on Isham.
"Now there's a man, Mr. Hall, that I thought I knowed well and I always
claimed he was a coward. It jest shows how you sometimes git fooled.
When it comes to a showdown that jasper always weakened, but it was
jest because he was foxy. He knowed if he drawed the other feller would
git him, and so he never drawed. He hired gunmen to do his fighting
because gunmen was cheap and he wanted to keep out of jail; but when
them Slash-knife boys fell down he seen right there he'd have to do
his dirty work himself. That was the time when the dog-hair cropped
out on him and I seen, by grab, he was a killer. Not a gun-fighter,
mind ye--and they're dangerous enough--but one of these sneaking,
calculating kind. He fights like the A-paches, never showing a head and
always shooting from ambush; and the only way we'll git him is to go
him one better--we've got to out-Injun him, that's all!"
"I'm ready," replied Hall. "Why not start right now?" And Meshackatee
took him at his word.
They headed off east up the dim, Indian trail that Meshackatee had
followed down to water; and as the stars wheeled in their courses Hall
saw their direction change until at last they were going northwest.
They had scrambled up a wash and then on up grassy slopes which led to
the big ridge behind; and from there they had turned north, following
a trail that dipped and twisted as it skirted the east slope of Turkey
Creek. They rode and walked by turns, driving the pack-animal before
them; and as the east began to flush they took to high ground and
camped through the long, sultry day.
The summer heat was at its height, the close, oppressive heat that
presages torrential rains to come; and from the top of their butte they
could see the white thunderheads, riding majestically up above the
Rim. Below them lay the canyon with Turkey Creek at its bottom and,
still further northwest, the broad swales of Maverick Basin showed
dimly through a pass in the hills. Hall looked it all over through
Meshackatee's big glasses, when it came his turn to stand guard; and
then he looked back along the trail which they had followed, trying to
fix every landmark in his mind. For if all went well the time would
soon come when he would be fleeing through the night with Allifair; and
every butte and ridge, every turn in that dim trail, must be stamped
indelibly on his memory. He traced it out again, noting each landmark
through his glasses, and then suddenly he picked up an Indian. He had
stepped out from some scrub-oaks and was examining their tracks, where
they had passed through a sandy swale, and as he disappeared into the
brush Hall ran and wakened Meshackatee, but the Apache did not show
himself again.
"He's down in some gulch," observed Meshackatee sagely, "probably
legging it to take the news to Isham. Two white men, one on foot; and
two horses, one drove ahead; and a dog--well, that will be Meshackatee.
And the man on foot--the chances are good that Isham will guess it's
you. Well, watch along Turkey Creek and if you see any one crossing,
wake me up and we'll make a quick move."
Hall watched and as the day wore on towards evening he saw what
Meshackatee had feared. Six horsemen in single file came trotting down
the creek, half-hidden behind the tall brush; but when Meshackatee came
the enemy had vanished again and the trails were bare--too bare.
"We'll move," stated Meshackatee, "as soon as it's dark; and if you're
game, I am--we'll ride across country and try to come out at the Rock
House. Might as well head for the place we're going to, even if I don't
know the way none too well."
"All right," agreed Hall, "and if we find cover in time I'll slip down
and spy on the house."
"Bad business," grumbled Meshackatee, "don't like this a little bit.
Them cowboys are out for our hair."
They remained at the lookout until it was dark and then, packing
swiftly, struck out to the west, following cow-trails clear to the
creek. There they watered their horses and started up the other side;
but the canyon which they ascended boxed up near the summit and they
had to return to the creek. Meshackatee's plans had gone awry, putting
him in a very bad humor; but after thinking it over he moved up a side
canyon and took shelter on a bench above the stream.
Here they tied out their horses in a narrow cove which was surrounded
on three sides by wooded slopes; and then, with his dog sleeping
against his back, Meshackatee sprawled out and went to sleep. But the
failure of their plans had left McIvor uneasy--he did not approve
of this camp above the trail; and as morning approached he rose up
silently and felt his way down to the stream. This was the hour that he
dreaded, just before the break of day, and he crept along the ground
regardless of the dew which weighed down the heavy grass.
There had been noises in the night and 'Pache had growled repeatedly,
some wild cattle had jumped suddenly and fled; and as he drew near
the water he noticed that the grass had been trampled on the opposite
side of the stream. He slipped down closer, hardly stirring a twig
as he moved, and the first flush of dawn showed men's tracks in the
sand--and the dew had been knocked from the grass! He lay silent, his
heart thumping; there was a stir across the creek, a stir and the hunch
of a head. That was enough--he glided away like a rattlesnake, and
Meshackatee woke up with a jump. They were surrounded--he knew that
from the look in Hall's eyes--and, catching up his gun from the fold of
his blanket, he rolled over behind a big rock.
"Where are they at?" he whispered, and when Hall told him he grunted
and began to pile up rocks. Hall dug in also, making a loop-hole
through which to shoot and laying out his cartridges in rows; and
'Pache, sensing the enemy, crouched down anxiously between them,
growling low and sniffing the wind. A deathlike silence fell upon the
narrow canyon as they settled back to wait for the attack; but not a
bush stirred--the Scarboroughs were still hoping they would saddle up
and ride down the hill. Ride up to their very guns and then with one
volley they could snuff out their lives together. But their ambush had
been detected and now Meshackatee and Hall were searching the brushy
hillside for a target.
"No use," complained Meshackatee, "they must've heard us digging. Let's
start something, before they scatter out."
He took off his old hat and stuck it on a stick and as it bobbed above
the boulder an explosive bullet struck it, spattering the ground about
them with lead. 'Pache yelped as it struck him and cringed down beside
Meshackatee who was cursing at the hole in his hat; and then Hall saw
a movement below the smoke puff and answered with a shot that drew a
volley. The whole hillside seemed to belch forth smoke, but the bullets
for the most part went high; the Scarboroughs were below them, hidden
away among the boulders which had fallen from the rimrock above.
"They can't reach us," chuckled Meshackatee, snuggling up to his
loop-hole and shooting back at the smoke; but a crash from behind
brought them both to a right-about and raised a cheer from below. The
explosive bullets had stampeded their pack-horse and they were just
in time to see him go smashing through the brush and fall into the
creek-bed below.
"Makes no difference," grumbled Meshackatee, "don't need him now,
nohow--be lucky to git out of here afoot."
Hall made no comment but down in his heart he agreed with Meshackatee
fully--they would be lucky to get out alive. Behind them the steep
slopes were sparsely covered with timber, but not enough to protect
them in their flight; and the sound of the firing would bring the whole
Scarborough clan to make their position worse. It was a dangerous
place to be, and yet not more dangerous than others where he had
been compelled to make a stand. And he had often observed that, where
both sides were shooting from cover, it was seldom that any one was
hurt. Only one thing was necessary--they must maintain their position
until darkness should cover up their flight. He peeped out through
his loop-hole, shooting warily at stray smoke-puffs, and they settled
themselves for the siege.
But the men that they were fighting were not satisfied to wait, they
had other strings to their bow; and as Hall and Meshackatee lay behind
their rock shelter a bullet struck between them.
"Judas Priest!" exclaimed Meshackatee, as his dog ran off yelping;
and then, seeing the smoke from a point across the creek he hastily
changed his front. Hall piled up rocks before them, but Meshackatee lay
watching, and when the next bullet came he shot.
"Behind that big boulder," he said. "You watch me smoke him out of
that."
"Haven't got time," answered Hall, but Meshackatee did not smile--he
was slipping an explosive cartridge into his gun. He thrust out his
rifle and lay sighting along the barrel and at a puff from the boulder
he fired. Another bullet struck their rock-pile, and dangerously
near; but the man behind the boulder leapt up as if he were shot and
Hall saw that it was an Indian. He darted off along the hillside with
Meshackatee still shooting at him, and at the second shot he fell. But
even when he was down Meshackatee shot him again and the Indian lay a
huddle in the sun.
"I'll show you!" muttered Meshackatee, "you doggoned rat-eater. You're
the _hombre_ that's been raising all this hell. Well, see how you like
that, and mebbe the rest of them A-paches will learn to lay off of
Meshackatee."
He turned to Hall and nodded triumphantly.
"What'd I tell ye?" he said. "Did you see me smoke him out? Busted
a big explosive bullet on that rock jest behind him and burned him
up with hot lead. But I knowed, by grab, no Teehanno could bushwack
me--they've gone and hired A-paches."
"There's another one!" exclaimed Hall, as another plunging shot came
over the top of their fort; and Meshackatee grabbed for his cartridges.
"Better git out of here," he said, and was turning to scuttle away
when a rifle opened up down the creek. It was shooting fast and almost
rhythmically, and another lighter gun joined in; then there was a
tattoo of answering shots, trailing off into silence as the fighters
emptied their magazines.
"What's that?" asked Hall, and Meshackatee shook his head--he was
watching the rocky hill. Something moved among the boulders, his rifle
roared out again; and as a tall Texan broke to run they both opened
fire. He dropped his gun and ran on.
"They're all going!" exclaimed Hall, turning to shoot into the
creek-bed; and now there was no answer as with harrying shots they
followed the flight of the bush-whackers. Whoever they were they were
fleeing in a panic--the battle had been won, but by whom?