THE MYSTERIOUS SPECTRE REAPPEARS.
Even the delicious dinner Mrs. Hawks set before her neighbor did not
reconcile him to the unexpected delay caused in his plans by the
absence of the owner of the Star and Moon. Moreover, he realized that
there was reason for the sharp reprimand he had received on account of
his lack of thought for the safety of his wife--and this realization
did not tend to mollify his ill-humor.
Noting this and fearing that she had, perhaps, said too much, Mrs.
Hawks sought to make amends.
“You mustn’t take what I said about leaving Sarah too hard, Sam,” she
exclaimed, contritely. “But, being left alone on the ranch is my sore
point, and I’m so accustomed to taking Hen to task for it, that I don’t
always stop to think what I’m saying. Of course, I know you were all
cut up about your cattle--which is no more than natural--and I reckon
Sarah has been alone so often she won’t mind, especially as it’s the
daytime. If it was night, now, it would be different.”
“It certainly would be,” returned Bowser, with emphasis. “I had no idea
of leaving Sarah alone. I told you that. It’s Hen’s being away that
upset my calculations. What time did you say you expected him back?”
“During the afternoon. That is, to-day is the third day he’s been gone
and he said it wouldn’t take longer than three days to round up the
cattle, they’re on the near range, you know, and drive them in.” And
then, woman like, she began to borrow trouble, adding: “You don’t
suppose that spook could have made any trouble for him, do you?”
“It certainly could have if it tried the same tricks on Hen’s herd it
did on mine,” responded the owner of the Double Cross. “But, don’t
start in imagining things, Amy. A man gets trouble enough on a ranch
without worrying and fretting about what may or might happen.”
“That’s just what Hen says,” rejoined Mrs. Hawks. “It’s easy enough
for you men folks to live up to that. You have so many things to keep
you busy, you don’t have the time to think. But with us women, it’s
different. Having nobody but you to take up our minds, we just can’t
help being afraid something may happen to you. I know it’s that way
with me about Hen, and I guess it is with Sarah about you.”
“Yes, I suppose it is,” assented her neighbor. “But just remember,
worry doesn’t do anybody any good--and generally makes you nervous and
cross.” And with this parting shot, the owner of the Double Cross,
having finished his dinner, arose and went out doors, followed by his
cowboys.
“Man, dear! but ain’t she the old spitfire!” chuckled Deadshot, as they
gained the yard, taking care, however, to make sure that the woman
was not within earshot when he spoke. “I never did have any use for
Hen Hawks; but after seeing--and listening to--his running mate, I
certainly am sorry for him.”
“Well, he probably wouldn’t thank you for telling him so,” smiled
Bowser, his ill-humor disappearing under the combined effect of the
good dinner, his pipe and the cowboy’s comment upon the garrulity of
Mrs. Hawks.
Further pursuit of the topic was prevented, however, by Sandy.
“Don’t it beat all how everything seems to go against us in trailing
them cattlelifters?” he asked. “First, we couldn’t pick up their track.
Then we couldn’t overhaul ’em, and now we’ve got to lose more time
waiting for reinforcements before starting out again. It sure does look
as though we were in for trouble all along the line.”
“So you’re beginning to wake up, are you?” chuckled Deadshot. “Didn’t
I say last night, when we came near going loco over that ghostie, that
whenever one of ’em appeared, it meant trouble? And didn’t I tell you,
after we found it was a raid, that we’d have no easy time running ’em
down, as Sam said he was agoing to do?”
The scornful tone in which the cowboy reminded his bunkmate of his
prophecies aroused Sandy’s ire.
“Sure you did. But you say so many things that ain’t no account, a
feller sort of has to see for himself before he can agree with you.”
“That’s a hot one, Deadshot,” grinned his boss. “It’s a good thing for
you Pinky isn’t here, or between Sandy and him, they’d have your goat
before sundown.”
In a silence that was portentous in its intensity, the cowboy took out
his corn husk cigarette papers and makings, deftly rolled one, lighted
it, and, taking a long draw, blew out the smoke deliberately, while his
companions wondered along what lines his retort would be.
“Did you ever notice, Sam?” he finally drawled, “that there’s some
folks has to be hit with a thing before they can see it? That’s the
case with Sandy, here, though, as a member of the Double Cross outfit,
I hate to be obliged to admit it. Instead of realizing when a feller is
clever enough to pull off that ghostie stunt to cover a raid there’d
be trouble in getting close enough to ’em to pump ’em full of lead, he
don’t tumble to it till about eighteen hours afterwards.”
Fortunately, the foreman of the Double Cross had a highly developed
sense of humor, and he laughed at the pat rejoinder as heartily as
either Bowser or the man who uttered it--with the result that what
might have turned into a serious quarrel between the two cowpunchers
and endangered the harmony of the avengers, and the united action
necessary to catch the raiders was avoided.
When Mrs. Hawks had finished her housework, she appeared on the veranda
with a basket of sewing and called to the men to join her. But, upon
the pretext that they were obliged to keep close watch of one of their
ponies in the fear it had strained a tendon, they managed to avoid the
tiresome company of the well-intentioned but garrulous woman.
Now perched on the top rail of the corral, now stretched upon the
ground, the three men who were so eager to be on their way in pursuit
of the raiders whiled away the time, ever and again searching the
horizon to the East for a glimpse of the Star and Moon outfit, with
what patience they could muster.
But as the afternoon wore away without either sight or sound of them,
Bowser began to grow restless.
“If those devils find we haven’t reached the swamps by sundown, they
are just as likely as not to drive my cattle to some other place--and
then we surely will have a merry time locating them. It’ll be hard
enough if we know they are in the bottoms. But when we can’t be certain
even of that, we’ll have the very old Nick of a time,” he complained.
“What do you want to do, start out and leave word for Hen and his men
to follow?” asked Sandy. “It does seem too bad to give the ornery
cusses a chance to get away on us.”
“That’s the idea I was figuring on,” returned the ranchman. “What do
you say, Deadshot?”
“Just what you told Mrs. Hawks--don’t borrow trouble,” rejoined the
cowboy, a twinkle in his eye.
“Meaning?”
“That it’s a fool idea to worry about the lifters hiking out right away
when once they’ve hit the safety of the swamps. Let me tell you, they
will be only too thankful to find we’re not on their trail so they can
get a good night’s rest. You two know, as well as I do, it ain’t any
cinch job shoving fifty head of cattle along as fast as they can leg it
in the dark.”
“There’s good sense in that reasoning,” declared the owner of the
stolen steers, after several moments’ reflection.
“And the beauty of it is, it’s the facts,” exclaimed Deadshot. “I never
knew a cowlifter who wasn’t lazy and, once in the bottoms, they’ll
feel so safe, I’m willing to bet they won’t think of breaking cover
for a week, at least, unless we jump ’em. So if Hen don’t show up for
forty-eight hours more, there won’t be any great harm done.”
The avengers were not obliged to wait so long for the appearance of the
men they hoped to get to take up the trail with them, however.
Just as twilight tinted the waving grasses with glorious reds and
purples, the halloo of the cowboys rang out, and in due course the
owner of the Star and Moon ranch rode into the yard.
At the sight of his neighbor, he was glad, greeting him with hearty
cordiality and chiding him for the length of time it had been since
he had paid him a visit. But when he learned the purpose of Bowser’s
presence, he became grave.
“You’re sure right, I’ll help you trail the skulks, Sam!” he declared.
“Just as soon as the boys have had their chuck, we’ll start. We drove
down by easy stages, that’s what took us so long, so they aren’t tired.”
While the two ranchmen had been exchanging greetings and talking, the
rest of the outfit had come up with the cattle, and, as he observed
this, Hawks called out:
“Hey, Dude, tell Ki Yi to come right up to the house.”
But, before he entered the presence of his boss, the man whose name had
been bestowed upon him by his bunkmates because of the yell he always
emitted when excited, as well as the other members of the Star and Moon
outfit, had been made aware of the reason for the presence of the men
from the Double Cross.
“I suppose Deadshot has told you about the raid?” smiled Hawks, as his
cowboy came up to the veranda.
“Sure.”
“What do you make of it? Ever hear of that ghost stunt being pulled off
before?”
“That’s a new one on me, for certain, Hen. It strikes me, they’re a
mighty smart lot of lifters, and it’s dollars to a coyote flea the
whole bunch are in the swamps this very minute.”
“Think they’ll shift to another hiding place?” asked Bowser.
“Not till they’ve got some of the beef back on the steers they run off
of ’em--unless we jump ’em,” declared the cowpuncher.
“Then I reckon with Ki Yi and Deadshot agreed on that, we needn’t break
our necks riding across the plains to-night, Sam,” exclaimed the owner
of the Star and Moon.
“Daybreak will be time enough to start,” assented Bowser, and
instructions to that effect were accordingly sent to the men he
proposed to take from the ranch by Hawks.
But in their assertion that the Midnight Raider would not leave the
swamps for many a day unless forced out, both Deadshot and Ki Yi were
mistaken!
Had the avengers been on guard at the bottoms just at dusk, they
would have seen a lone horseman emerge from the tall grass, scan the
surrounding plains searchingly and then set out at an easy lope toward
the very spot where the scenes of the night before were being described
for the twentieth time.
And had they been on watch at the sheds of the Star and Moon horse
corral at midnight, they would have discovered that same horseman
dismount in its shadow!
But, instead, the cowboys and their bosses were sleeping soundly.
After listening intently for several minutes, the skulking figure
hastily gathered a bunch of dried grass, thrust a lighted match into
the waving ends and then placed the flaming mass under an edge of the
corral shed.
Twice he repeated the action, then rushed toward the home house and
applied the torch in five places.
Pausing only long enough by the ranch house to make sure the fire had
caught, the miscreant ran back to his horse, vaulted lightly onto its
back, rode a short distance into the cover afforded by the shadows from
the bunkhouse and then drew rein to gloat in his fiendish handiwork.
Inflammable as tinder because of their dryness, the boards blazed
fiercely, and soon both the horse shed and the house were roaring
cauldrons of seething flames.
As the conflagration gained headway, its crackling and onrush roused
Bowser.
Springing to window, he caught sight of the leaping flames.
“Fire! Fire!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.
Awakened by the startling cry, Mr. and Mrs. Hawks jumped from their
bed, while the cowboys tumbled out of their bunks.
With such awful rapidity did the flames devour the wooden buildings
that little beyond the clothes by their bedsides were the inmates of
the house able to save.
In a momentary lull, as they watched the flames, there rang out shrill
and piercing:
“O-u-e-e!”
For a moment, Bowser gazed at his men, astounded.
“Get your guns! It’s the Midnight Raiders!” he yelled.
Instantly the boys from the Double Cross and those of the Star and Moon
dashed into the bunkhouse, returning immediately with rifles and six
shooters.
“Shoot and shoot to kill!” thundered Bowser.
But, ignorant of which direction to rake with their shells, the
cowpunchers stood in a bunch, straining their ears for a repetition of
the cry.
As they waited, the roof tree of the corral fell in, sending a shower
of sparks high into the air.
_And, while the lurid flare lighted the surrounding country, of a
sudden, a white spectre dashed out onto the plains._