A FRIEND IN NEED
"Hey! What hit me?" demanded Hippy Wingate, opening his eyes.
"Keep shet!" commanded a surly voice near at hand.
Hippy tried to raise his arms, but could not. They were roped to his
sides, as he discovered now that he was regaining full consciousness. A
dim light filtering through an opening that he could not see, for it was
behind him, showed Lieutenant Wingate that he was lying in one of the
shallow caves that may be found almost anywhere in the Kentucky
mountains.
"How did I--I get here?" he ventured to ask.
The other occupant of the cave stepped up and gave the captive a vicious
prod with his boot.
"Ouch! Say, you! Don't be so infernally rough about it. Kicking is a
dangerous habit to get into. One of these days you will forget yourself
and kick a Kentucky mule. Then _good night_!"
"Didn't Ah tell ye-all to keep still? Want another clip ovah the haid?"
"Thank you, no," replied Hippy. "If you don't mind, before I relapse
into gloomy silence, you might tell me what the big idea is. Who or what
hit me, and why am I here hog-tied like a captured hoss thief?"
"Mebby ye-all be that. Kain't answer no questions, an' if ye don't keep
still Ah'll shoot ye. Ah reckon ye-all will keep still that-away."
"Ah reckon maybe you're right," agreed Hippy, and was silent.
Lieutenant Wingate was kept in the cave all that day. Now and then his
guard would go out for a short time, and, returning, would stand peering
down at the prisoner, but no further conversation passed between them.
Hippy tried to recall what had happened to him. He remembered riding
along the trail; remembered the good-natured teasing of the Overland
girls, then all at once consciousness was blotted out. He had a faint
recollection of being jolted, which probably was when he was being
carried away on a horse, but that was the extent of his recollections.
He did know that his head hurt him terribly and that it felt twice its
natural size. His throat was parched from thirst, but Lieutenant Wingate
declared to himself that he would die rather than ask a favor of the
ruffian there who was guarding him.
Shortly after dark Hippy heard voices outside the cave; then two men
came in, jerked him to his feet and, dragging him out, threw him over
the back of a pony just ahead of the saddle, as if he were a bag of
meal. When the rider mounted, Hippy was placed right side up on the
saddle, his companion sitting behind him on the horse's back.
A rough, miserable ride of something more than an hour followed; then
they halted. Hippy, now being blindfolded, could make out nothing of his
surroundings, but he realized that there were trees all about him, and
he could hear the snapping of a campfire, which reminded him of food and
that he was nearly famished.
"If they fry bacon near enough for me to smell, I'll break my bonds and
run--for the bacon," he added to himself.
Lieutenant Wingate was roughly yanked from the horse. He landed heavily
on the ground in a heap, where he was left to untangle himself as best
he could. By violent winking and twisting his head from side to side he
was able, by tilting his head well back, to displace the handkerchief
with which he had been blindfolded sufficiently to enable him to look
about.
Several men were holding a discussion by the campfire, and that their
conversation had to do with him, Hippy Wingate knew from the frequent
gestures in his direction, though he was too far away to distinguish
what they were saying.
The men finally came over to him and demanded to know who and what he
was.
Hippy told them briefly. One of the men laughed.
"Ye mean ye'r a hoss thief," he jeered.
"I wish I were. I'd steal a horse and get away from here."
"Know anybody in these parts, anybody who'll give ye a character?"
questioned another.
"No. I've got a character of my own. I don't need any one to give me a
character," retorted Hippy.
"Who is the feller that come inter these mountains with ye, and then
quit ye in such a hurry?" demanded another.
"His name is Tom Gray. He is the husband of Grace Harlowe Gray, who
leads our party of Riders. He has gone over to the Cumberlands on
business."
"Whut business?"
"He is to make a survey for the government."
Lieutenant Wingate had let slip something that he should not have done.
He saw instantly from the exclamations that the mountaineers uttered
under their breaths, that he had "said something," as he expressed it to
himself.
"So that's it, hey! Be ye-all workin' fer the gov'ment, too?" demanded a
voice.
"I am not, nor have I been since I fought in France. Is there anything
else that you ruffians wish to have me tell you?" demanded Hippy
belligerently.
"Where be the other feller headed for fust?"
"I don't know where he is headed for now," answered the captive,
becoming wary.
"Reckon we'd better look that gov'ment feller up right smart," said one
of the captors in a low tone. "We'll bag the bunch of 'em. Shore ye
ain't got nothin' else t' tell us honest folk up here?" demanded the
first speaker.
"No."
"Reckon ye better think it over, young feller. We'll give ye till
ter-morrer t' make a clean sweep an' tell us the whole business. If ye
don't we'll jest blow yer fool haid off an' chuck ye in a hole in the
mountain an' there won't be nothin' more heard of ye," threatened
another.
"The Germans tried to do that same thing, but they didn't succeed,"
dared Lieutenant Wingate. "Who do you think I am, anyway? What do you
think I am? Come, now, suppose you make a clean sweep and tell me what
all this rotten business is about."
"Ah reckons ye don't have t' be told nothin'," was the reply that Hippy
got. "We're goin' t' take ye away from here an' put a guard over ye, so
if ye wants t' live till ter-morrer, keep quiet."
"Wait a moment!" called Hippy, as the captors turned away for further
conference. "Don't I get anything to eat out of all this?"
There was no reply to his question, and Hippy went without his supper,
which fact really gave him more concern than the knowledge that he was a
prisoner in the hands of desperate men, who, if their word could be
believed, proposed to do desperate things to him.
All but two of the mountaineers soon left the scene, and these two took
turns in sleeping and guarding their prisoner. Along towards morning
Hippy fell into an uneasy sleep, but his sleep was brief. He was roughly
yanked to his feet, and, at the point of a rifle, driven deeper into the
forest. His guards did not halt until daybreak. They then untied the
prisoner's arms, bound his feet, and placing him in a sitting position,
back against a tree, passed a rope around his waist and tied him to the
tree.
"You forgot something," reminded Hippy as they started to walk away.
"Huh?" demanded one of the mountaineers.
"You forgot to tie the tree down. It might run away, you know."
A grunt was the only reply he got. The men then built a small fire and
began preparing their breakfast. Bacon and coffee was their meal, and
Hippy Wingate, now without his blindfold, was forced to sit there and
watch them eat. It was the most unhappy hour that he remembered ever to
have experienced.
After finishing their own breakfast they favored him with a cup of
water, and, lighting their pipes, sat down to talk, much of which the
listening ears of their captive overheard.
As nearly as Hippy could make it out a mountain feud was in the making,
and the twenty-third of the month was the time set for the opening. He
heard the names "Bat Spurgeon" and "Jed Thompson" mentioned, but they
conveyed nothing to him beyond the mere names. The voices of his captors
and his own weariness finally lulled Lieutenant Wingate to sleep, and he
slept for hours. He was awakened late in the day by being roughly shaken
and a cup of water thrust into his hands.
"I thank you for this bounteous repast," said Hippy mockingly. "Is this
the water cure you are giving me?"
"Oh, shut up!" growled the mountaineer, and went away leaving Hippy
gazing after him, a sardonic grin on the Overland Rider's face.
Hippy was aching all over his body as darkness settled over the forest,
marking the second night of his captivity. With it came the cook fire
and again the agonizing odors of coffee and bacon. With it, too, came
something else--a low, guarded voice behind him and, seemingly, only a
few inches from his ear.
"Don't make a sound, Lieutenant."
"Who are you?" demanded Hippy, without in the least changing his
position or showing excitement.
"You would not know if I told you. Listen to me. When those two fellows
sit down to supper, the light of the fire will be in their eyes, and,
unless they get up and stare, they will not be able to see you in this
shadow. If everything is safe I will cut you loose. Are your feet
bound?"
"Yes. Who are you?"
"You wouldn't know if I told you, I said. Keep quiet and speak only in
answer to my questions."
"All right. Got anything loose about your person--I mean food,
man-sized food, not canary-bird rations such as those bandits have been
doling out to me?"
"You can't have anything now. After we have gotten away from here I will
try to dig up a snack for you. Silence!"
For the next several minutes neither the prisoner nor his mysterious
friend uttered a word. Supper was ready for the mountaineers, but,
before sitting down to it, one of them walked over to the prisoner and
stood peering down at him. Hippy's heart almost stopped beating, so
intent was he on listening for the breathing of the man behind him and
from his fear that his mysterious friend might be discovered.
No such emergency arose, nor did he hear the breathing he was listening
for.
After satisfying himself that the captive was safe, the mountaineer
returned to the fire and sat down to his supper.
Hippy felt a slight tug on the rope that bound him, then its pressure
about his waist was released.
"Steady, now," warned that even voice behind him. "Crawl on all fours."
The rescuer placed a hand on Hippy's shoulder and guided him slowly,
cautiously, every movement forward threatening to draw a groan from the
released captive.
"Now get up! Give me your hand," whispered, the stranger. "Don't speak."
For some little time they crept on in silence, the stranger twisting and
turning, finally taking to the middle of a mountain stream and following
it up for some distance when he halted.
"Tell me what the situation is back there. What did they propose to do
to you?" demanded the man.
"I expect the gang is on its way there now to shoot me up, provided I do
not give them the information they seek," answered Hippy.
"What information?"
Lieutenant Wingate repeated the conversation of the previous night,
leaving out no details, however trivial they might seem to him.
"I thought so. Come up here and sit down. I shall have to leave you,
perhaps for an hour or more. When I return I will give one short
whistle. If all is well you will reply with two short whistles."
"You are going back there to spy on that outfit that we just left?"
questioned Hippy.
"Yes. I want to see who the others are, and what they have up their
sleeves. Here's a revolver for you. I suppose they took yours. Don't use
it unless you have to."
"Wait a moment!" called Hippy, as his mysterious friend started away.
"Haven't you forgotten something? That 'snack' you promised to dig
for."
"Oh, yes. Here's some dog biscuit for you, and--"
"Dog biscuit?" exclaimed Hippy.
"Hardtack. You ought to know what that is," chuckled the stranger.
Hippy groaned. It revived painful memories of France in wartime, but he
accepted the hardtack and began biting it off in large chunks. Hippy did
not concern himself about how long the mysterious friend remained away
so long as the biscuit held out, unpalatable as it was.
"I shall be listening for shells to burst first thing I know. Army food!
How did I ever eat it for nearly two years and live?"
It was full two hours later when the welcome whistle signal sounded
somewhere down stream, which Lieutenant Wingate answered as directed.
"Come! We will head for your camp now," announced the man a few moments
later, as he stepped up before Hippy.
"Did you learn anything on your little excursion?" questioned Hippy
thickly, for his mouth was well filled with hardtack.
"Yes, Lieutenant. I learned a great deal. I was there when the crowd
came in to put you on the rack. The two fellows who let you get away
had a hard time of it, and it looked for a time as if there was going to
be shooting. Cooler heads, however, headed it off. When you get back to
your party I should advise you to pull up stakes and get out. Those
fellows will be after you and you'll have to look alive or you won't be
alive long."
"I know I am thick, old man, but tell me why they are so eager to blow
my light out," begged Hippy.
"Don't you know, Lieutenant?"
"If I did I shouldn't be asking you. Begging your pardon for my
bluntness."
"One reason, but not the principal one, is that you bounced one of the
gang from your camp."
"Go on. What's the big idea?"
"The big idea, as you call it, is that there is a price on your head up
here! Now do you understand, Lieutenant?"
Hippy Wingate uttered a low, long-drawn whistle of amazement.