THE TWO FRIENDS.
The raiders were gone at last and so was the stolen horse. When the
animal passed out of sight in the darkness, and the sound of his hoofs
on the hard trail died away in the distance, Ned arose slowly to his
feet, but sat down again in much less time than he had consumed in
getting up. The intense excitement which had thus far kept up his
strength was over now, and he was too weak to stand. He had never passed
through such an ordeal before, and it was no wonder that he was terribly
frightened. He wondered how he had lived to see the end of it.
“But it is an awful mean wind that blows nobody good,” thought Ned,
making another effort to stand on his feet after he had rested awhile.
“This one has brought good to me in that it has taken off the stolen
horse. I thought I had got an elephant on my hands, and I am glad he is
gone. It takes me out of a scrape very nicely. The Mexicans are the only
ones who suffered by this raid. They didn’t get their hands on the safe,
and four of their number were shot, which served them just——”
“_Carrajo!_” exclaimed some one near him, in muffled tones.
Ned looked up and was almost ready to drop back into the manger again,
when he saw a Mexican standing in the open part of the shed; but a
second glance reassured him, for it was nobody but the cook. The man was
probably sneaking back to the house after seeing his friends off, and
had approached so noiselessly that Ned had not heard his footsteps. “I
have learned one thing to-night,” said the boy, following out the
thoughts that were in his mind, “and that is, that you are a rascal, Mr.
Philip.”
“What are you doing out here?” demanded the Mexican, who was so amazed
that he could not speak immediately.
“I was treed out here, and couldn’t get into the house,” replied Ned. “I
have been out here ever since those strangers went away, and I saw all
that passed between you and the raiders. I wouldn’t give much for you if
the settlers should find out what you have been about to-night.”
When Ned had said this much, he paused and looked at the man. He was
sorry he had spoken his mind so freely, for if he made Philip angry
there was no telling what might come of it.
“And I wouldn’t give much for you if the settlers should find out that
you stole that horse,” retorted Philip, after he had said something
angry in Spanish.
“I didn’t steal him. I traded my own horse for him.”
“Then why didn’t you give him up when the owner came for him?” asked the
Mexican.
“Well, he’s gone now,” said Ned, who did not know how to answer this
question, “and the owner is welcome to him if he can find him. I can
tell why you kept my secret: You knew the raiders were coming here
to-night, and you intended to tell them about the horse, so that they
could steal it. I didn’t know before that you were a thief, but I have
often told myself that you looked like one.”
The Mexican was on the point of replying, and had already prefaced the
remarks he intended to make, by a Spanish oath, when the rattling of a
chain and the sudden opening of a door in the rancho, put a stop to the
conversation. Ned at once jumped out of the manger and started toward
the house, and the Mexican, instead of hiding himself, as the boy
thought he would, followed close behind him.
“Who’s that?” demanded the herdsman, who had opened the door; and Ned
saw his revolver glisten in the moonlight, as the weapon was raised and
pointed straight at his head.
“Don’t shoot!” he cried, quickly.
“Wal, I’ll be dog-goned!” exclaimed the herdsman. “Where have you two
been? We have been looking all over the house for you, and we began to
believe that the raiders had carried you off with them!”
Ned said just enough in reply to excite the man’s astonishment, but not
enough to explain what had happened, and made his way toward his
father’s room, still followed by the cook. The latter seemed to say by
his actions, that he intended to hear all Ned had to tell his father,
and that if the boy knew when he was well off, he wouldn’t tell too
much. Ned perfectly understood this silent threat, and during the
interview with his father, whom he found in his office, almost
prostrated by excitement and fear, was careful to say nothing at which
Philip could take offence. He said that, being unable to sleep, he had
gone out into the shed and stayed there, with his horse for company;
that the raiders had appeared so suddenly that he could not reach the
house without running the risk of being captured or shot by them; that
his horse had called to them, and that he had been obliged to turn the
animal loose, for fear that he would lead the raiders to his place of
concealment; and that he had lain there in the manger, an unwilling
witness to the first (and he sincerely hoped it would be the last) fight
he had ever seen carried on with firearms.
“I can’t begin to tell you what a time I had out there!” said he, in
conclusion. “I never had bullets come so close to me before!”
“Probably not,” said his father. “Where were you all the while, Philip?”
“I was under the porch, sir,” was the answer; and Ned, who would have
been glad to expose the villain then and there, did not contradict the
statement. “I didn’t have time to get into the house, so I concealed
myself.”
“I could not imagine how that door came to be open,” said Uncle John,
with something like a sigh of relief, “for I took particular pains to
lock and bolt it myself. I was almost afraid that there was a traitor
among us, and some of the herdsmen thought so, too; but this explains
everything to my satisfaction. Philip went out after I locked the door,
and before he came back the raiders arrived, found the door open and
thought they would walk in and surprise us. But Jake surprised them, I
guess! He happened to be awake, and that was all that saved us.”
“Was there anybody hurt?” asked Ned.
“Not on our side, I am glad to say. We escaped without the least
damage.”
After the various exciting incidents connected with the events of the
night had been talked over, the herdsmen, who had followed the boy into
the office, to listen to his story, went out one by one, and finally Ned
and the Mexican followed. The hall through which they passed was still
filled with smoke; the walls and doors were dotted here and there with
bullet-marks, and the floor was littered with weapons, sombreros and
various other articles, which the raiders had left behind them in their
hurried flight. The sight of these things made Ned tremble again. The
Mexican accompanied him as far as the door of his own room, and when the
latter was about to slam the door in his face, the man gave him a look
and a nod that were full of meaning.
“That fellow means to make trouble for me, sooner or later,” said the
boy to himself, after he had lighted his lamp and securely fastened his
door. “I can see it in his eye. I wish I had asked father to discharge
him long ago, for I never did like him; but if I have him sent away now,
he will spread it among the men that I had that stolen horse in my
possession and wouldn’t give him up. If that story ever gets wind in the
settlement, I don’t know what will become of me.”
Ned threw himself upon a sofa—he was still so very nervous and
frightened that he dared not undress and go to bed—and thought over the
exciting adventures which had been crowded into the last few hours, and
racked his brain in the vain hope of finding some way out of the
difficulties he had got into. Two things were plain to him: Philip was
there in the rancho for no good purpose, and he did not intend to expose
Ned, unless the latter said something to direct suspicion toward
himself. It was humiliating, to say the least, to have a servant in the
house who could get him into serious trouble at any time he chose to
open his mouth; but Ned could think of no way to get rid of him, and
there was no one to whom he could go for advice. He must keep his own
counsel until Gus Robbins arrived. Ned knew that his friend had been in
many a scrape himself; that it was a very serious difficulty indeed out
of which he could not work his way, and perhaps Gus could help him. In
the meantime, he resolved he would have as little to do with the Mexican
as possible. He would not speak to him, or even look at him, if he could
help it, and at the same time he would show him by his actions that he
was not afraid of him.
Having made up his mind to this Ned rearranged his pillow and tried to
go to sleep; but his brain was too active and his senses too keenly
alive to every external impression. If he kept his eyes open he saw the
raiders as plainly as he could have seen them if they had been there in
his room; and if he closed his eyes to shut them out from view he
distinctly heard their yells, the reports of their revolvers and
carbines, and could feel the sofa vibrate under his hand just as the
planks which formed the manger had vibrated when the bullets passed
through them. Once or twice he started up in great alarm, believing that
he heard the porch creak just as it did when he saw the raiders step
upon it. At last the creaking sounded in the hall; and so positive was
Ned that the thieves had returned and the Mexican cook had let them into
the house again that he took his rifle out of the wardrobe which served
him for a closet, put a cartridge into it and sat down on the sofa,
holding the weapon in readiness to send a ball through the door the
instant a hand was laid upon the latch.
In this way Ned passed the night. It was a long and dreary one to him,
but morning came at last, and then Ned mustered up courage enough to
draw the curtains and throw open the shutters. He felt perfectly safe
now, and being overcome with weariness he sunk back upon the sofa and
fell into a sound sleep. He slept until almost dinner-time, and felt
weak and exhausted when he got up. To his great surprise no one, except
his father, had anything to say about the fight. The servants, who were
all old frontiersmen (there were no women about the house), had passed
through so many similar scenes that they had became accustomed to them,
and seemed to think that they were hardly worth talking about. He found
his father in the office, and his first words were:
“Well, Ned, the raiders did us some damage, after all. After we drove
them away from here they went out and caught Edwards napping, and we are
ten thousand dollars poorer than we were yesterday!”
Edwards was one of the herdsmen. His cattle, numbering over a thousand,
had been brought in a few days before for the inspection of a drover who
had purchased half the herd. These the drover had taken to Palos, and
Mose, another herdsman in Uncle John’s employ, had been sent along to
assist him. Edwards ought to have been well out of the way with the rest
of the herd by this time, but he had loitered on the road in order to
visit some of his friends, and the thieves had taken him off his guard.
“I found Edwards here when I awoke this morning,” added Uncle John.
“Where is he now?” asked Ned. “I should like to hear him tell his
story.”
“O, he had no story to tell. He went into camp a few miles from here,
and early this morning the raiders surrounded his stock and drove it
off. Edwards saved himself by jumping on a horse without saddle or
bridle, and came down to tell me about it. I have told him where our
other herds are, and sent him out to see if they are safe. Ten thousand
dollars is a large sum to lose in one night.”
Ned made no reply. Indeed, he did not seem to take the least interest in
the matter. The money was no loss to him, but it came out of the pockets
of one who could lose three times that amount every year and still have
enough left to support Uncle John and his graceless son in better style
than they had ever been able to support themselves.
While Ned was eating the breakfast that Philip had kept warm for him, he
talked with his father about the raiders and discussed Gus Robbins’s
chances for meeting Mose at Palos. Ned had given the herdsman a
description of his expected guest, and had also taken it upon himself to
order him to stay in Palos at least a week and wait for Gus. He hoped
that Gus would be on his way to the rancho in company with some of the
neighbors long before Mose reached Palos with his cattle, and it was
this hope that took him to the top of that swell every day. It did not
take him there on this particular morning, however, for he knew now by
experience that their troublesome neighbors had a way of appearing when
they were least expected; and, although he had never heard that a band
of raiders were ever seen in broad daylight, he thought it best to
remain within hailing distance of the rancho.
Ned’s first care, after he had eaten his breakfast, was to dispose of
the gold-mounted saddle and bridle which had come into his possession
the day before, and which were now hanging up in the shed ready at any
moment to bear testimony against him. Fortunately for him no one had had
occasion to go to the shed that morning, and consequently the only one
who knew they were there was the Mexican cook.
Ned walked out on the porch, and after making sure that there was no one
in sight to observe his movements, he darted into the shed and as
quickly darted out again with the saddle and bridle thrown over his
shoulders. He ran to the rear of the shed, and there found a pile of
lumber which had been there since he came to the ranche, and which he
had never known to be disturbed. He pulled the lumber all down and at
the end of a quarter of an hour had piled it up again over the saddle
and bridle, arranging the shorter boards on the ends of the pile so that
nothing could be seen.
“There!” said he, with a sigh of satisfaction. “I feel a great deal
better. Those things can stay there until I find time to put them in a
safer place. The next thing is to select a horse. Father told me that I
could take my pick of the lot.”
There were a score or more of horses in the corral that had been broken
to the saddle. They were all fine animals, too, and it was a matter of
some difficulty for Ned to make up his mind which one he wanted. He had
grown very particular during the last two days. Having enjoyed the
luxury of a ride on Silk Stocking’s back, he knew what a good saddle
horse was, and he was hard to suit. He wanted one that looked and
carried himself exactly like the stolen horse, and he finally decided
that a small sorrel nag with light mane and tail and one white foot
approached nearer to the mark than any other horse in the corral. Ned
rode him up and down the trail in front of the house for an hour or two,
and looked longingly toward the solitary oak on the summit of the swell,
under whose friendly branches he had dreamed away so many hours while
waiting for his friend, Gus Robbins. But the fear of the raiders kept
him at home, and a week passed away before he could gather courage
enough to venture out of sight of the house.
On the morning of the eighth day after the raid, one of the herdsmen
told Ned that the band of Hangers who had pursued the thieves in the
hope of overtaking them and recovering the stolen stock, had returned
unsuccessful, the Mexicans having made good their escape across the
river, taking the cattle with them. If that was the case, travelling was
safe, and Ned was only too glad to take his accustomed gallop again. Of
course breakfast was late that morning and everything bothered—it always
does when one is in a hurry; but the horse was brought to the porch at
last, and Ned hastened into the house after his rifle and silver-mounted
riding-whip. These ornaments having been secured, he went into the
kitchen after the lunch which he had ordered Philip to prepare for him,
and while he was putting it into his pocket, he heard the clatter of a
horse’s hoofs in the yard, and voices in conversation. He ran out on the
porch, and found his father talking earnestly to a roughly-dressed man,
who, upon closer examination proved to be Zeke, George’s herdsman. Uncle
John’s face wore an expression of interest, while Zeke’s was gloomy
enough. He looked and acted like a man who had met with some great
misfortune.
“I don’t know whar he is, more’n the man in the moon,” Zeke was saying
when Ned came out. “I ‘sposed, in course, that I should find him here.”
“Well, he isn’t here, and we haven’t seen him since the day he left with
the supplies,” said Uncle John. “Can’t you tell me just what has
happened? I may be able to do something.”
“Thar ain’t much of anything to tell, an’ ye can’t do nothing, either,”
replied Zeke. “He brung them supplies to my camp all right, an’ a few
nights arterwards the Greasers dropped down on us an’ run off the last
hoof we had to bless ourselves with, doggone ‘em!”
Ned caught his breath, and turned his head quickly away, for fear that
the herdsman, who just then happened to be looking his way, might see
the expression of delight and triumph that came upon it.
“That’s the best news I ever heard,” thought he. “The Greasers have
cleaned George out at last. Serves him right.”
“But we got ‘em all back again, me an’ the settlers did,” continued
Zeke.
The exultant smile faded from Ned’s face as quickly as it had appeared.
“That’s the worst news I ever heard,” said he to himself. “George often
declares that he is the luckiest boy in Texas, and I believe he is. I
know I am the unluckiest.”
“You got them all back!” exclaimed Uncle John. “I am very glad to hear
it.”
“Yes, we did. The Greasers didn’t get away with nary horn. But I hain’t
seed nor heared nothing of George since the night they jumped down on
us. I thought mebbe he’d got a trifle outer his reckonin’ an’ come hum
to take a fresh start; so I brung the critters nigher in to wait fur
him. But seein’ as how he ain’t here—good-by!”
As Zeke said this, he wheeled his horse and rode away at a full gallop,
paying no attention to the entreaties and commands to come back that
Uncle John shouted after him. He was out of hearing in a moment more,
and then the father and son turned and looked at each other.
“What is the meaning of all this, anyhow?” asked Ned, who had not been
able to gain a very clear idea of the state of affairs.
“You know as much about it as I do,” answered his father. “George hasn’t
been seen since the night his herd was stampeded. That’s all.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to send a man to make inquiries among the neighbors. That’s
all I can do; for I don’t know where to look for him. He may have been
killed or carried off by the raiders.”
Uncle John walked into the house with great deliberation, put down the
newspaper he had held in his hand during his conversation with Zeke, and
then came out and moved slowly toward the corral where one of the
herdsmen was at work.
After watching him for a few minutes Ned struck up a lively whistle,
mounted his horse and rode away. He did not act much like a boy who had
just heard that his cousin had been missing for days, and might be a
captive in the hands of the Mexicans. Suppose he was in George’s place!
Would his father be so very deliberate in his movements, and would he be
satisfied with sending jut a single man to make inquiries among the
neighbors?
Ned seemed to be in the best of spirits. He kept his horse in a full
gallop, until he reached the top of the swell, and there he reined him
in very suddenly, for he caught sight of two horsemen on the other side.
Shading his eyes with his hand, he gazed earnestly at them for a few
minutes, and then started down the swell to meet them. He recognised one
of them as the herdsman who had been sent to assist the drover in
driving down the cattle he had purchased of Uncle John, and something
told him that his companion could be none other than the long-expected
Gus Robbins. We know that it was Gus, and we have already described the
meeting that took place between the two boys. We know, too, that Mose
rode on to the rancho, to report his arrival to his employer, and that
the boys followed him leisurely, talking every step of the way.
“I say, Ned,” said Gus, suddenly, “you live in an awful lonesome place,
don’t you?”
“Yes,” replied Ned; “it is very lonely, and that is one reason why I
wanted you to come down here.”
“There is plenty of hunting, I suppose,” continued Gus; “but that is
something I don’t know much about. I can handle a yard-stick better than
I can handle a gun. Is there any fishing, or are there any good fellows
to run with?”
“I haven’t heard of anybody going fishing since I have been here; and as
for the fellows, I don’t know a boy in the neighborhood.”
“Why, what in the world do you do to pass the time away?”
“I don’t do anything. I just keep still and let it pass itself away.”
“That’s a jolly way to live!” said Gus. “It’s better than standing
behind a counter all day, handling over goods for people who don’t want
anything, and who, after they have tired you out, spend five cents for a
spool of thread, and think they have paid you for the trouble they have
caused you. But, Ned, we can’t get into any scrapes here, can we?”
“Can’t we, though!” exclaimed Ned. “I know a story worth two of that.
Why, boy, I am in a worse scrape to-day than you ever dreamed of, and I
got into it just as easy! It was no trouble at all.”
“You have been talking too much,” said Gus, who remembered that his
friend had more than once got himself into serious trouble by the too
free use of his tongue.
“No, I haven’t,” said Ned, quickly. “I have been talking too little;
that’s the trouble. But it is a long story, and I must take a spare half
hour in which to tell it to you; then I want you to give me your advice,
for I don’t know what to do.”
“I guess I can help you, if anybody can. I have helped you out of more
than one close corner, haven’t I? Do you remember how we used to go
about Foxboro’ of nights, changing gates and signs, and stretching ropes
across the walk to trip the people who passed by?”
“I haven’t forgotten. Are you up to such things now?”
“Yes, or anything else that has fun in it!”
“All right. Some day, when you are in just the right humor for it, I’ll
tell you how you can get yourself into as lively a mess as you ever
heard of—something that will set the whole settlement in a blaze.”
“I’m your man,” said Gus, readily. “If one is going to raise a row, let
him raise a big one, while he is about it. That’s what I say!”
The five miles that lay between the swell and the rancho had never
seemed so short to Ned as they did that day. He and Gus had so much to
talk about that they took no note of time, and their ride was ended
almost before they knew it. When they reached the rancho, they found
Uncle John standing on the porch, waiting for them.