PIRATES GET A HOT RECEPTION
The desert riders, who had been laughing over their leader's
downfall after Hippy jerked him from his pony, suddenly awakened
to a realization that the scene they had witnessed had ceased to
become a joke.
The rider nearest to the water hole whipped out his revolver and
fired, but the bullet went over Hippy's head for the very good
reason that, expecting this very thing, he had ducked.
Hippy fired in return, hit the pony, and the rider tumbled off as
the pony went down.
Hi Lang was out of the water hole in a twinkling.
"Keep your hands off your guns!" he shouted to the visitors,
drawing his own weapon.
A bullet went through his hat. Another spun him around as it
furrowed the fleshy part of his left arm, but the man who had
fired the second shot got his reward in the next second. A bullet
from Grace Harlowe's revolver went through his shoulder.
"Let them have it!" commanded Hi Lang. "They're out to do us!"
Two rifles, in the hands of Anne and Nora, banged from the tent in
which they, with Emma Dean, were crouching, waiting for orders to
take a hand in the battle. Bullets were flying rather thickly, but
the desert riders' ponies, under the touching up they were getting
from the revolvers of the defenders, were making careful shooting
impossible for their riders. The defenders had the advantage of a
steady footing under them, and they were shooting with extreme
care, trying their best not to kill any one, but endeavoring to
punish the attackers, and to keep themselves from getting killed.
The grilling fire was getting too hot for the desert ruffians,
handy as they were with weapons and horses. Several, too, had been
hit or unhorsed, though the Overland party did not really know how
much damage they had done to the attackers.
"Shoot their ponies from under them!" commanded Hi Lang. "It's the
only way."
"No, no! Please, not that," protested Grace. "The ponies haven't
harmed us."
The guide shrugged his shoulders and, taking quick aim at a rider
who was jerking his rifle from the saddle boot, shot the fellow
out of his saddle.
Hi Lang's next shot downed a pony, its rider being thrown heavily
to the ground, where he lay stunned from the fall. Four men were
now down and a fifth, the leader of the party of ruffians, was
still in the water tank where Lieutenant Wingate had kicked him
and where the guide had then put him to sleep. The leader had long
since recovered consciousness, but, being unarmed, he wisely
decided to remain where he was, knowing very well that, were he to
try to reach his companions or his mount, he would be shot down.
There were now only three mounted men of the attacking party left
and these suddenly began galloping away from the water hole.
"Rifles!" called Hi.
Grace and Elfreda sped to their tent and quickly returned carrying
four rifles and ammunition. The guide had instantly divined the
purpose of the attackers in drawing off. They wished to get out of
revolver range of the Overlanders and then use their rifles on
them, but by the time the desert ruffians turned, facing the scene
of their late battle, Hi, Hippy, Grace and Elfreda were shooting
steadily with their rifles, pouring a hot fire into them.
One ruffian was seen to sway in his saddle and pitch to the
ground. One of his companions gathered him up, then, with the
wounded man across a saddle, the two remaining bandits galloped
away, leaving their fellows to whatever fate might be in store for
them.
"Cowards!" growled Hippy Wingate.
"No. Common prudence," answered the guide. "Help me get the
fellows who are down. Look out that they aren't playing possum.
Keep your gun in your hand and watch them. Mrs. Gray, will you
follow a short distance behind us, so that you may have all the
wounded men under observation?"
"Yes, Mr. Lang."
"If you see a suspicious move from any of them, shoot!"
"Yes, sir. Come along, Elfreda, your services probably will be
needed. Mr. Lang, you were hit. May we not do something for you
first?"
The guide shook his head and strode over to the water hole, into
which he peered.
"You stay where you are!" he commanded sternly, to which there was
no reply from the leader of the ruffians, who sat scowling up at
him. "Mrs. Nesbit! Watch that fellow and if he tries to get out,
drill him! He isn't fit to live anyway."
The two men, with Grace and Elfreda following, went out to disarm
and examine the men who had been downed. They found that two had
merely been stunned by falls, two others having been wounded in
shoulders and arms, with numerous bullet holes through their
clothing.
Elfreda examined their wounds and announced that none was
seriously hurt, but that the men ought to be taken where they
could have proper attention. Hi Lang laughed.
"Fiddlesticks!" he scoffed. "The only way you can kill this sort
of critter is to kill 'em. We'll fix 'em up and send 'em on. The
ones who got away will be waiting for 'em, so don't worry about
that."
"I shall dress their wounds and give them whatever further
attention I can before you send them away, Mr. Lang," replied
Elfreda firmly.
Grace nodded her approval.
"Lieutenant, help me carry them in. It is wise to keep them well
bunched, you know," advised the guide.
While he and Hippy were doing this, Grace watched the other men.
Elfreda returned to camp with the first ruffian, and there dressed
his wounds, gave the man water and made him as comfortable as
possible. She treated the second wounded man with similar
consideration.
"I do not see that there is anything at all the matter with these
men," announced Elfreda after examining those who had been stunned
by falls. "They should be able to take their wounded companions
back with them. Are there enough ponies left to carry all?"
"I reckon. They're out yonder browsing on the sage. I'll catch
them up and stake them down here. When you say the word, we will
start these critters off, and good riddance it will be."
Just before dark Elfreda "discharged" her patients, as she
expressed it, and they were led to their ponies, assisted to
mount, and told to get out as fast as horseflesh would carry them.
Not a word of information had the guide been able to get from any
of them, not even their names nor why they were on the desert.
"I've seen that cayuse before," declared Hi, referring to the
leader, and regarding the rapidly disappearing horsemen with a
deep frown on his face. "I can't remember where, but one of these
days I'll think of it. Too bad we can't turn them over to a
sheriff, but we're too far out to go back now."
"That gang was looking for trouble when they rode up," averred
Hippy.
"Yes, I reckon they were after us. Somebody sent them after us,
too. Got any ideas on the subject, Mrs. Gray?"
"No, sir. I am thinking of you at the moment. Where were you hit?"
"Shoulder."
"Oh! Why didn't you say so?" cried Elfreda. "Here we have been
wasting time on those ruffians and neglecting you. I'll have a
look, if you please. Which shoulder?"
"Left. Nothing much, I reckon."
Elfreda bared the guide's shoulder and peered at the wound. She
saw that it was merely a superficial flesh wound, but that unless
it had attention it might prove to be more serious.
With skillful fingers Miss Briggs bathed the wound and dressed it,
Hi Lang observing the professional manner in which she went about
her work and nodding reflectively.
"Doctor?" he asked.
"No, lawyer," replied Elfreda with equal brevity.
"Huh!" grunted the guide.
"Were you hit anywhere else?"
"A few scratches, that's all."
Miss Briggs demanded that he show her, which he did. Both lower
limbs were, as he had told her, scratched by bullets that had
grazed them, and these surface wounds she also dressed.
"Anyone else needing surgical attention?" she demanded, smiling at
her companions, shook their heads. "Grace Harlowe, how is it that
you were not shot? I am amazed. You must have been in the water
hole too, hiding from those ruffians."
"Mrs. Gray isn't of the hiding sort," spoke up Hi. "Reckon we
better have supper and get set for the night," he said, turning
abruptly toward the south and gazing off over the desert.
"Do--do you think those men will come back to-night?" questioned
Emma, half fearfully.
The guide shook his head.
"Not to-night. We'll probably meet up with them again one of these
days, and I hope we do," he replied, looking thoughtfully up at
the sky. His survey took in all quarters of the compass, and when
he turned to the Overlanders again, Grace thought he looked a
little disturbed.
"What is it, Mr. Lang?" she asked.
"I reckon it's the desert this time," he replied.
"A storm?"
"Yes."
"Rain?" questioned Grace innocently.
The guide grinned. "Nothing like that in these parts. Wind, Mrs.
Gray. I reckon you'll meet one enemy that you can't drive off,
before this night comes to an end. We better have chow now, then
make the camp as secure as possible. Shall you tell the others?"
he asked, nodding toward the Overland girls, who, after their
exciting battle, were chattering and laughing as they assisted
Ping Wing to prepare the supper.
"Yes. After we eat. They should know," replied Grace. "You see
they are not at all upset over what occurred."
By the time they had finished supper, which had been eaten amid
much teasing and laughter, some one discovered that the stars,
before so near and brilliant, were now only faintly discernible, a
veil of thin mist having intervened between them and the baking
desert.
Elfreda Briggs regarded the overcast sky for a moment, then turned
inquiringly to the guide.
"Fog?" she asked.
"No. Bad storm. Better go to bed with your clothes on to-night,"
advised the guide.
"Is it so serious as that, Mr. Lang?"
"It may be. Nobody can figure on anything on this desert--storms,
water, everything here is as contrary as an outlaw bronco. Better
turn in soon and have the others do the same, for you may not have
long to sleep to-night."
"I would suggest that you do the same," advised Elfreda. "You need
sleep and rest even more than we do. I hear Mrs. Gray telling our
friends to prepare for bad weather, so I will run along and
listen. Good-night, Mr. Lang."
The Overland girls, requested by Grace to turn in, after being
told that a storm was in prospect, did so, but Hippy still
remained up talking with Ping, who was scouring the cooking
equipment and carefully stowing it in the packs so that it might
all be in one place in the event that the storm was a severe one.
Ping Wing had had experience with desert wind storms; he had
learned to respect their tremendous force, and he too had read the
danger signs in the heavens that night.
The guide being nowhere in sight, Hippy finally crawled into his
tent and lay down with his clothes on, first, however, placing his
revolver where it might be quickly reached in an emergency, but
there was to be no use for his weapon that night. The enemy that
he was to face later on would be proof against bullets, an enemy
that no human courage, skill or ingenuity could stay.
Out by the water hole, Hi Lang sat keeping silent vigil, narrowly
watching those film-mists overhead, his nerves on the alert to
catch the first cooling breath, which he knew from past experience
would be the vanguard of what he fully expected was in store for
them.