The ground in the neighbourhood of the ranch favoured the operations of
an attacking party, for it was so irregular and so cumbered with knolls
and clumps of trees that the defenders of the post scarce dared to make
a sally, lest their retreat should be cut off by a detached party of
assailants.
Hence Jackson would never have dreamed of quitting his house, or ceasing
to act on the defensive, had he not been under the natural impression
that it was his own returning cow-boys who had been attacked and
out-numbered by the Indians. Great, therefore, was his surprise when,
on rounding a bluff and coming into view of the battle-field, the party
engaged with the Indians, though evidently white men, were neither his
own men nor those of the US troops.
He had just made the discovery, when a band of about fifty warriors
burst from the woods and rushed upon him.
"Back to back, boys! girls, keep close!" shouted Jackson, as he fired
two shots and dropped two Indians. He pulled at a third, but there was
no answering report, for the magazine of his repeater was empty.
Crux and Darvall turned their backs towards him and thus formed a sort
of triangle, in the midst of which were the two girls. But this
arrangement, which might have enabled them to hold out for some time,
was rendered almost abortive by the ammunition having been exhausted.
"So much for bein' in too great a hurry!" growled Jackson between his
clenched teeth, as he clubbed his rifle and made a savage blow at the
Indian who first came close to him. It was evident that the Indians
were afraid to fire lest they should wound or kill the women; or,
perhaps, understanding how matters stood, they wished to capture the
white men alive, for, instead of firing at them, they circled swiftly
round, endeavouring to distract their attention so as to rash in on
them.
Bigfoot, who had recovered from his blow and escaped from the ranch,
made a sudden dash at Dick when he thought him off his guard, but Dick
was not easily caught off his guard in a fight. While in the act of
making a furious demonstration at an Indian in front, which kept that
savage off, he gave Bigfoot a "back-handed wipe," as he called it, which
tumbled the chief completely off his horse.
Just then a turn of affairs in favour of the whites was taking place on
the battle-field beyond. The party there had attacked the savages with
such fury as to scatter them right and left and they were now riding
down at racing speed on the combatants, whose fortunes we have followed
thus far.
Two men rode well in advance of the party with a revolver in each hand.
"Why, it's Charlie Brooke! Hurrah!" yelled Darvall with delight.
"An' Buck Tom!" roared Jackson in amazement.
So sudden was the onset that the Indians were for a moment paralysed,
and the two horsemen, firing right and left as they rode up, dashed
straight into the very midst of the savages. In a moment they were
alongside of their friends, while the rest of the outlaw band were
already engaged on the outskirts of the crowd.
The very danger of the white men constituted to some extent their
safety; for they were so outnumbered and surrounded that the Indians
seemed afraid to fire lest they should shoot each other. To add to the
confusion, another party of whites suddenly appeared on the scene and
attacked the "Reds" with a wild cheer. This was Jackson's little band
of cow-boys. They numbered only eight; but the suddenness of their
appearance tended further to distract the savages.
While the noise was at its height a sound, or rather sensation, of many
feet beating the earth was felt. Next moment a compact line was seen to
wheel round the bluff where the fight was going on, and a stentorian
"Charge!" was uttered, as the United States cavalry, preceded by Hunky
Ben, bore down with irresistible impetuosity on the foe.
But the Indians did not await this onset. They turned and fled,
scattering as they went, and the fight was quickly turned into a total
rout and hot pursuit, in which troopers, outlaws, travellers, ranch-men,
scouts, and cow-boys joined. The cavalry, however, had ridden far and
fast, so that the wiry little mustangs of the plains soon left them
behind, and the bugle ere long recalled them all.
It was found on the assembling of the forces that not one of the outlaws
had returned. Whether they were bent on wreaking their vengeance still
more fully on their foes, or had good reason for wishing to avoid a
meeting with troops, was uncertain; but it was shrewdly suspected that
the latter was the true reason.
"But you led the charge with Buck Tom, sir," said Jackson to Charlie, in
considerable surprise, "though how you came to be in _his_ company is
more than I can understand."
"Here's somebody that can explain, maybe," said one of the cow-boys,
leading forward a wounded man whose face was covered with blood, while
he limped as if hurt in the legs. "I found him tryin' to crawl into the
brush. D'ye know him, boys?"
"Why, it's Jake the Flint!" exclaimed several voices simultaneously;
while more than one hand was laid on a revolver, as if to inflict
summary punishment.
"I claim this man as my prisoner," said the commander of the troops,
with a stern look that prevented any attempt at violence.
"Ay, you've got me at last," said the outlaw, with a look of scorn.
"You've bin a precious long time about it too."
"Secure him," said the officer, deigning no reply to these remarks.
Two troopers dismounted, and with a piece of rope began to tie the
outlaw's hands behind him.
"I arrest you also," said the commander to Charlie, who suddenly found a
trooper on each side of him. These took him lightly by each arm, while
a third seized his bridle.
"Sir!" exclaimed our hero, while the blood rushed to his forehead, "I am
_not_ an outlaw!"
"Excuse me," returned the officer politely, "but my duty is plain.
There are a good many gentlemanly outlaws about at present. You are
found joining in fight with a notorious band. Until you can clear
yourself you must consider yourself my prisoner.--Disarm and bind him."
For one moment Charlie felt an almost irresistible impulse to fell the
men who held him, but fortunately the absurdity of his position forced
itself on him, and he submitted, well knowing that his innocence would
be established immediately.
"Is not this man one of your band, Jake?" asked the officer quietly.
"Yes, he is," replied the man with a malevolent grin. "He's not long
joined. This is his first scrimmage with us."
Charlie was so thunderstruck at this speech that he was led back to the
ranch in a sort of dazed condition. As for Dick Darvall, he was
rendered speechless, and felt disposed to regard the whole thing as a
sort of dream, for his attempted explanations were totally disregarded.
Arrived at the house, Charlie and Jake were locked up in separate rooms,
and sentries placed beneath their windows--this in addition to the
security of hand-cuffs and roped arms. Then breakfast was prepared for
the entire company, and those who had been wounded in the fight were
attended to by Hunky Ben--a self-taught surgeon--with Mary and Buttercup
to act as dressers.
"I say, Jackson," observed Darvall, when the worthy ranch-man found
leisure to attend to him, "of course _you_ know that this is all
nonsense--an abominable lie about my friend Brooke being an outlaw?"
"Of course I do, Dick," said Jackson, in a tone of sympathy; "an' you
may be cock-sure I'll do what I can to help 'im. But he'll have to
prove himself a true man, an' there _are_ some mysteries about him that
it puzzles me to think how he'll clear 'em up."
"Mysteries?" echoed Dick.
"Ay, mysteries. I've had some talk wi' Hunky Ben, an' he's as much
puzzled as myself, if not more."
"Well, then, I'm puzzled more than either of ye," returned Dick, "for my
friend and mate is as true a man--all straight an' aboveboard--as ever I
met with on sea or land."
"That may be, boy, but there's some mystery about him, somehow."
"Can ye explain what the mystery is, Jackson?"
"Well, this is what Hunky Ben says. He saw your friend go off the other
night alone to Traitor's Trap, following in the footsteps o' that
notorious outlaw Buck Tom. Feelin' sure that Buck meant to waylay your
friend, Hunky followed him up and overshot him to a place where he
thought it likely the outlaw would lay in wait. Sure enough, when he
got there he found Buck squattin' behind a big rock. So he waited to
see what would turn up and be ready to rescue your friend. An' what
d'ye think did turn up?"
"Don' know," said Dick, with a look of solemn wonder.
"Why, when Buck stepped out an' bid him throw up his hands, your friend
merely looked at Buck and said somethin' that Hunky couldn't hear, an
then Buck dropped his pistol, and your friend got off his horse, and
they shook hands and went off as thick as thieves together. An' now, as
you've seen an' heard, your friend turns up headin' a charge of the
outlaws--an' a most notable charge it was--alongside o' Buck Tom. Jake
the Flint too claims him for a comrade. Pretty mysterious all that,
ain't it?"
"May I ask," said Dick, with some scorn in his tone, "who is this Hunky
Ben, that his word should be considered as good as a bank-note?"
"He's the greatest scout an' the best an' truest man on the frontier,"
replied Jackson.
"H'm! so Miss Mary seems to think too."
"An' Mary thinks right."
"An' who may this Jake the Flint be?" asked the sailor.
"The greatest scoundrel, cattle and horse stealer, and cut-throat on the
frontier."
"So then," rejoined Dick, with some bitterness, "it would seem that my
friend and mate is taken up for an outlaw on the word o' the two
greatest men on the frontier!"
"It looks like it, Dick, coupled, of course, wi' your friend's own
actions. But never you fear, man. There must be a mistake o' some
sort, somewhere, an' it's sure to come out, for I'd as soon believe my
Mary to be an outlaw as your friend--though I never set eyes on him
before the other day. The fact is, Dick, that I've learned physiognomy
since--"
"Fizzi-what-umy?" interrupted Dick.
"Physiognomy--the study o' faces--since I came to live on the frontier,
an' I'm pretty sure to know an honest man from a rogue as soon as I see
him an' hear him speak--though I can't always prove myself right."
Dick and his host were thus conversing, and the soldiers were regaling
themselves in the hall, the commander of the troops and Hunky Ben were
engaged in earnest conversation with Charlie Brooke, who gave an account
of himself that quite cleared up the mystery of his meeting, and
afterwards being found associated with, the outlaws.
"It's a queer story," said Hunky Ben, who, besides being what his
friends called a philosopher, was prone at times to moralise. "It's a
queer story, an' shows that a man shouldn't bounce at a conclusion till
he's larned all the ins an' outs of a matter."
"Of course, Mr Brooke," said the officer, when Dick had finished his
narration, "your companion knows all this and can corroborate what you
have said?"
"Not all," replied Charlie. "He is an old shipmate whom I picked up on
arriving at New York, and only knows that I am in search of an old
school-fellow who has given way to dissipation and got into trouble
here. Of my private and family affairs he knows nothing."
"Well, you have cleared yourself, Mr Brooke," continued the Captain,
whose name was Wilmot, "but I'm sorry to have to add that you have not
cleared the character of your friend Leather, whose name has for a
considerable time been associated with the notorious band led by your
old school-fellow Ritson, who is known in this part of the country as
Buck Tom. One of the worst of this gang of highwaymen, Jake the Flint,
has, as you know, fallen into my hands, and will soon receive his
deserts as a black-hearted murderer. I have recently obtained
trustworthy information as to the whereabouts of the gang, and I am
sorry to say that I shall have to ask you to guide me to their den in
Traitor's Trap."
"Is it my duty to do this?" asked Charlie, with a troubled look at the
officer.
"It is the duty of every honest man to facilitate the bringing of
criminals to justice."
"But I have strong reason for believing that my friend Leather, although
reckless and dissipated, joined these men unwillingly--was forced to do
it in fact--and has been suffering from the result of a severe injury
ever since joining, so that he has not assisted them at all in their
nefarious work. Then, as to Ritson, I am convinced that he repents of
his course of conduct. Indeed, I know that his men have been rebellious
of late, and this very Jake has been aspiring to the leadership of the
gang."
"Your feelings regarding these men may be natural," returned the
captain, "but my duty is to use you in this matter. Believing what you
say of yourself I will treat you as a gentleman, but if you decline to
guide me to the nest of this gang I must treat you still as a prisoner."
"May I have a little time to think over the matter before answering?"
"So that you may have a chance of escaping me?" replied the Captain.
"Nothing was further from my thoughts," said Charlie, with a flush of
indignation.
"I believe you, Mr Brooke," rejoined the Captain with gravity. "Let me
know any time before twelve to-day what course you deem it right to
take. By noon I shall sound boot and saddle, when you will be ready to
start. Your nautical friend here may join us if he chooses."
Now, while this investigation into the affairs of one prisoner was going
on, the other prisoner, Jake, was busily employed investigating his own
affairs with a view to escape.
How he fared in this investigation we reserve for another chapter.