IKE DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF
Grace and Emma, following Grace’s faint, had been carried into camp
by Lieutenant Wingate and Ike Fairweather. Emma, giving way to the
reaction, after her trying experience, had immediately sunk into a
profound sleep, from which they had not awakened her. The two girls had
been put to bed, neither awakening until long after daylight.
Miss Briggs had examined the bullet wound on Grace’s scalp and decided
that it should have attention as soon as she awakened.
No one was in her tent when finally Grace opened her eyes. After a few
minutes of blissful resting, the Overton girl got up and dressed. She
was a little dizzy at first, but the sensation quickly passed, and she
walked out just as luncheon was being prepared.
There was a shout of welcome as Grace appeared, and the girls of the
party ran to her, fairly overwhelming her with their joyous embraces.
Emma, who had awakened and dressed, came out a few minutes after Grace.
“We are famished. Please give us something to eat,” begged Grace.
“While we are eating you may tell us what has been going on here.”
“I reckon we’d like to hear ’bout you first,” spoke up Ike.
Grace thereupon related the story of the experiences of herself and
Emma, touching briefly on her own part in it.
“I reckon the woman thet got shot is goin’ to die,” observed Ike.
“How do you know?” questioned Grace, bending a keen glance on the
driver.
“Heard the bandits talkin’ about it up in the mountains.”
Ike then told of the search that Hippy and himself had made for the
missing girls, of their losing the trail and not finding it again, and
finally of having discovered the bandits, spied on them, and from their
conversation learned that Grace Harlowe and Emma Dean had escaped.
Ike said he learned, too, that the bandits were about to start for the
Overton camp, at the direction of Belle Bates, “and shoot the place up
for keeps,” as Ike put it. Hearing that, and knowing that the two girls
had escaped, Ike and Hippy started for home as fast as their horses
could travel, fully expecting to find Grace and Emma at the camp. They
had arrived at camp about an hour before the bandits.
“The battle you know ’bout, I reckon. Western Jones here shot two
of the critters off their horses, but the galoots gathered up their
wounded and rode away with ’em. I’ll bet there ain’t a one of ’em that
hasn’t a bullet hole in his carcass followin’ thet raid. You fixed one
in the leg up on the mountain. I heard ’em say so. Reckon you must have
shot high on purpose, ’cause you hit him nigh the hip.”
“I am glad it was no worse,” observed Grace gravely.
“Hope they keep on comin’ ’long, so, by the time we get to the end of
the trail, they’ll be purty well shot off.”
“By the way, I shot at and hit an animal that I think must have been a
cougar,” Grace informed them. After she had described the terrifying
scream of the animal, Ike nodded.
“Thet’s cougar. Must have hit him hard or he’d jumped you. They’re bad
medicine when wounded. Reckon he crawled off an’ died. What are you
goin’ to do now?”
“I think the first thing to be done is to sew up Mrs. Gray’s scalp
wound,” suggested Elfreda. “Do you wish me to do it, Grace?”
“Yes. I was going to ask you to do that for me. Suppose you do it now.”
Elfreda got her first-aid kit and her needles and silk, selected what
she wished from the kit and handed the rest to Emma to hold.
“It might be wise to have some one else assist you. Remember, Emma has
never worked in a hospital,” suggested Grace, seating herself in the
camp chair that Anne had placed for her.
“Time she began,” answered Elfreda briefly. “Emma, you will be present,
but not heard, during this proceeding.”
Ike Fairweather had drawn up a soapbox and sat down on it just outside
of the circle that had gathered about the scene. His eyes were filled
with curiosity. Ike did not fully understand what was “coming off,” as
he later described it, but felt certain that he was about to witness
something interesting.
Steeling herself to resist the pain, Grace talked as Miss Briggs
inserted the needle and began stitching the scalp together, but the
lines of her face showed the strain under which Grace was laboring.
“Elfreda, haven’t you nearly finished with that patchwork?” she finally
asked in a queer, strained voice.
“One more stitch and I am done. There! It is _fini_, as the Frenchmen
would say. Thank you, Emma. I will take the kit.”
The kit dropped from Miss Dean’s nerveless fingers, and, uttering a
little moan, she collapsed.
“Emma has fainted. Throw a pail of water on her face,” directed
Elfreda, calmly proceeding to place a bandage over Grace’s head.
Nora ran for water, while Anne, who had sprung forward, turned the
fainting girl over on her back and fanned her with a sombrero.
Emma’s faint was the crowning climax for Ike Fairweather. Ike went over
backward with his soapbox, landing on his back in a dead faint.
Hippy grabbed the old coach driver, the veteran of many a hold-up and
thrilling battle in the mountains, and twisted him about so his head
might be higher than his feet.
“Nora darling, fetch _two_ pails of water,” called Hippy. “What ails
this bunch of tenderfeet, anyway?”
Grace smiled in spite of her suffering, as Elfreda assisted her to a
cot that had been placed for her. In the meantime Ike and Emma were
regaining consciousness.
“Well, I swan!” gasped Ike Fairweather after Hippy had laughingly
assisted him to a sitting position, Anne having performed a similar
service for Emma. “Never did nothin’ like thet before.”
“I hope you never do it again if you continue to pilot this outfit,”
rebuked the lieutenant.
“I won’t,” promised Mr. Fairweather. “Next time I shore’ll look t’other
way,” he added, amid laughter.
Grace beckoned to him to come to her.
“Did Mr. Jones return to Globe?” she asked.
“Yes, and the young women gave him a right nice present beside what he
asked for helpin’ me to get the ponies out here.”
“I want to thank you for all the trouble you had in looking for Miss
Dean and myself. That is what I wished to say to you,” added Grace
smilingly. “When do you think we should strike camp and go on?”
“Whenever you feel fit, Miss.”
“I think it will be advisable to wait until morning, even though the
bandits attack us here again.”
“Reckon they got enough for a day or so,” observed Ike dryly.
“To-morrow mornin’, then, is it?”
“Yes. Make camp to-morrow afternoon wherever you think best, only do
not let us get past your camping place. Thank you so much. I do not
know what we should have done without you, but I sincerely hope our
more serious troubles are now at an end,” added Grace.
“Mebby, mebby,” observed Ike Fairweather, thoughtfully stroking his
whiskers. “Between you an’ me, I don’t reckon they be.”