AMERICAN
INDIAN
WEEKLY
BY COLONEL SPENCER DAIR
VOL. I THE ARTHUR WESTBROOK COMPANY, CLEVELAND, OHIO, U.S.A. NO. 1
Copyright 1910 by the Arthur Westbrook Company, Cleveland, Ohio.
AN OUTLAW'S PLEDGE
OR
THE RAID ON THE OLD STOCKADE
By COL. SPENCER DAIR
PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS.
RED ROGERS--A daredevil outlaw, who has broken from jail, killing four
men in his escape, and returns to the scenes of his early crimes, that
he may carry out a pledge made to a dying member of his gang, being
pursued and eluding hundreds of troopers before he is finally sent to
his doom, at the Old Stockade.
ROSE LANDON--Daughter of the man to whom Red Rogers made his pledge,
who helped the outlaw to break jail and then accompanied him on his
dash into the Bad Lands to carry out his vow. Repenting of her vicious
life, she finally marries a young trooper whom Rogers has captured.
PEDRO--A former member of Red Rogers' gang, who also assisted in his
escape from jail, and, after accompanying the outlaw to the mountains,
is captured by the troopers.
JENNINGS, SHAW, SCOTTY--Members of the Mounted Scouts, who have their
horses stolen by the outlaw, and are afterwards taken prisoners by him
and held as hostages.
ALKALI--A half-breed scout, who eventually tracks Red Rogers to his
doom.
COLONEL EDWARDS--Commandant of Fort Griswold, the officer who takes
charge of the pursuit of the outlaw.
Troopers, Deputy Marshals and Sheriffs and their posses.
CHAPTER I.
THE MYSTERIOUS SIGNAL.
"His-s-t!"
With startling suddenness, the cry shattered the stillness of the night
that lay upon the foothills of the "Bad Lands."
As they heard it, three men who, rolled in their army blankets, were
sleeping in the protecting shadow of a huge boulder, rose to their
elbows and peered into the darkness, at the same time whipping out
their "Colts" with their free hands.
But only the silence of the night, seeming more intense as the echo of
the strident cry died away, greeted them.
"That must have been a signal," breathed one of the trio, after several
minutes of listening.
"If it was a signal, it would have been answered," rejoined a companion.
"Sure it would," asserted the third member of the party.
"Then what was it?" demanded the first.
"May have been a snake, or a mountain lion," suggested the man who had
doubted the startling cry being a signal.
"Snake? Mountain lion?" repeated the other, in disgust. "Say, you'd
better go back to the recruits till you learn the difference between a
human voice and an animal's cry."
The three men were members of the Mounted Scouts, out on patrol duty
from their station at Fort Griswold.
Two of them had been in the service three years, while the other was
on his first detail, having only just been promoted from the band of
recruits at the Fort.
Consequently, the sneering allusion to his inexperience cut deep, and
he was about to retort fiercely, when the third scout prevented.
"Jennings is right, Scotty. It was a man's voice uttered that cry," he
whispered.
"Then what does it mean?" persisted the youngster.
"Just keep yer tongue in yer head and yer eyes and ears open, and we
may find out," grunted Jennings.
This reply had the intended result of effectually silencing the
recruit, and, with every sense alert, the three men awaited some sound
that would explain the mysterious signal.
Unlike most details of mounted scouts that patrolled together, there
was no affection, bred by perils and dangers shared, between the men.
Indeed, there was not even good feeling. The veterans, Jennings and
Shaw, had long been rivals for the honor of being the best shot at the
Fort, and both resented being sent out with a "rookie."
The personnel of the patrol, however, had been arranged by Colonel
Edwards, commandant of the Fort, with a purpose.
So many had become the raids and robberies that the officers began to
suspect connivance between the outlaws and some of the scouts, and the
names of Jennings and Shaw had been linked with these rumors.
Knowing the rivalry existing between them, the colonel had decided to
send them out together, confident that each would be only too willing
to report any suspicious actions of the other, and, to prevent such
an anomaly as an alliance in wrong doing, he had added the recruit,
instructing each to report in detail all that his companions did.
The surprise of being awakened from his sleep had driven the memory
of these orders from the youngster's mind. But as the monotony of the
watch grew, they recurred to him.
"I'll bet that was a signal for either Jennings or Shaw," he said to
himself, "and whichever it is, is afraid to answer because I'm here.
I'll have to keep my head about me all right, all right."
But the recruit's suspicions did his fellow members of the Mounted
Scouts injustice--as he was soon to learn.
With a suddenness almost as startling as the mysterious signal, came
the thumpety-thump of a stone as, dislodged from its resting place, it
bounded down the mountainside.
"That's above us," breathed Jennings, leaping to his feet and feeling
his way cautiously to the edge of the boulder, whence he strove to
penetrate the inky darkness that enveloped crags and trees alike.
As their companion jumped to his feet, Shaw and Scotty did likewise,
following him as he crept along the rock.
"What do you make of it?" queried the veteran of his fellow.
"Somebody's discovered us and is either trying to get away or to warn
others," asserted Jennings, with positiveness.
"But how could any one see us in the shadow of the boulder?" demanded
Scotty, resenting the indifference of his companions to his presence.
"Men who can travel these hills in the night, don't have to see a man
to know he's around, they can smell him," returned Shaw.
"Say, you fellows might as well cut this jollying out right
now," flashed the youngster. "I'm not going to stand for it any
longer--either you'll treat me decently or I'll mix it up with fists or
guns, whichever you like. Smell a man, rats!"
"Now don't get het up, rookie," rejoined Jennings. "Shaw's right. A
good woodsman or an Injun can scent a man as easy as you can a grizzly.
Besides, if they didn't scent us, they could the horses."
"Queer we ain't heard a whimper from the cayuses," exclaimed Shaw, as
his comrade's mention of their mounts recalled their existence. "My old
Bonehead usually don't like these night surprises."
"You don't suppose whoever it was has stolen 'em?" suggested Scotty, to
whose excited brain nothing seemed impossible.
"What, take three iron shod horses and me and Shaw not know it?"
snorted Jennings. "It would be easier to have 'em run off with one of
us."
"Just the same, I'm going down to see if they're all right," declared
the recruit, moving away.
"Hold on. We'll go with you," whispered Shaw. "Being nervous, as they
will, you may scare 'em--and we'd be in a pretty fix fifty miles from
the Fort and no ponies."
And, placing the youngster between them, the veteran scouts crept
cautiously down to the plateau, some fifteen yards from the boulder,
where they had left the horses to feed on the sweet grass.
Already, the heavy darkness in the east was giving way to the
grey-greens of dawn, enabling the three scouts to make out the outlines
of the rocks and trees above them.
But, as they turned a crag whence they could get a glimpse of the
plateau, they stopped in amazement.
Not a horse was to be seen!
"So they couldn't steal our ponies with you and Shaw 'round?" grinned
Scotty.
"Keep your tongue in your head," growled Jennings. "That cry probably
frightened 'em, and they've gone down the trail. Come on. It won't be
hard to track them."
Again were the scouts destined to be surprised, however.
Though the steadily-increasing light enabled them to find the
shoe-prints, where the animals had moved about during the night and
those made when they entered the plateau, not a trace could they find
indicating the direction of their departure!
With blank faces, the two veterans stared at one another.
As they stood in baffled perplexity, of a sudden, from above, there
rang out a mocking laugh.
Whirling, Colts ready, the scouts looked up.
Outlined against the sky, stood a powerfully-built man, red of hair and
beard, wearing a scarlet shirt.
"Red Rogers!" gasped Jennings and Shaw, in chorus.
Another jeering laugh greeted the exclamation, then with a defiant wave
of his hand, the figure disappeared.