THE AGED SCOUT GIVES AN EXHIBITION OF HIS ABILITY.
“Well done, man! Well done, Pinky!” shouted Sandy.
And with all speed possible he rode to the assistance of his bunkmate,
as, with Bowser in his clutch, the cowboy emerged from the very grasp
of death.
Not a moment too soon did he arrive!
Blinded by the hot smoke, choking and coughing, the cowboy from
the Double Cross outfit was reeling in his saddle, his strength
having given out after the rescue of his employer, though he still
unconsciously clutched Bowser’s belt.
But, before he fell Sandy’s strong arm encircled him.
Because of their horror at seeing one of their number give his life to
the relentless wall of flames, as they supposed, Hawks and the men with
him had not seen the thrilling rescue and it was not till they heard
the foreman’s shout of congratulation to Pinky that they had any idea
there was any one near them.
No sooner had his words rung out, however, than they were upon their
feet and quickly they swarmed about the prostrate form of the man they
had given up as dead and his rescuers.
Even when they saw him saved, the narrowness of the ranchman’s escape
from such a horrible fate held them silent as they anxiously poured
brandy and other stimulants down his throat.
But it was not many minutes before they were afforded the joyous relief
of seeing Bowser open his eyes.
Thus satisfied that their fellow had, indeed, been saved in time,
Dude and the others turned their attention to Pinky, who was quickly
revived, while Hawks talked with Sandy.
The owner of the Double Cross ranch, however, was aware that he had
not been saved by any of the three men who had been hiding in the
bushes to intercept the Midnight Raider. Indeed, his last memory was of
seeing them dashing for safety, giving no heed to his desperate call
for assistance. And as his mind came back to its normal condition, he
asked, feebly:
“Who--who saved me?”
“Pinky!” returned several voices.
“Pinky? Why--why--what’s he doing here? I thought he was back at the
ranch, looking after Sarah?” Then, another idea flashed into his mind,
and he asked, “There--hasn’t anything _more_ happened at home, has
there?”
“Not a thing, Sam,” exclaimed his foreman, moving to where his master
could see him.
“What, you here, too?” ejaculated Bowser.
“Yes, Charlie Harris and his wife came over to see Sarah, and he told
us to join you--and from the fix Pinky found you in, I reckon it was
an all-fired good thing we come just when we did!”
“No doubt about that,” returned the ranchman. “To say nothing of saving
me, we’ll need you before we run that cowlifter down. But I thought I
left you at the Star and Moon?”
Briefly Sandy told him of his actions, not even omitting a description
of the scene when Mrs. Bowser had held them from leaving the ranch at
the point of her rifle, knowing full well that the woman would tell
about it upon their return and believing it would seem less serious
when his master was still in forceful remembrance of the fact that the
timely arrival of his two men was all that had saved his life.
As the picture of the angry and determined women was set before their
minds, the men laughed heartily.
“There’s no doubt but that Sarah’s a woman who’s bound to have her own
way,” commented the owner of the Double Cross. “And I don’t mind a bit
saying I’d much rather it was you standing before her rifle than me.
She’s some nervous.”
“Well, so long’s everything is all right back at the ranch and we’ve
got two more men than we thought you’d have, let’s have grub,” proposed
Grouch. “I’m hungry.”
“Sure we’ll have grub--when you overhaul our ponies,” snapped Dude.
“You start out and round ’em up, and we’ll have a fire ready when you
get back.”
Thus reminded that the loss of their horses also meant the loss of
their food, which was all in the saddle bags, the avengers were thrown
into no pleasant frame of mind.
But the two cowboys whose arrival had been so opportune quickly
restored their good humor by announcing they had brought all the grub
they could lay hands on. And, without more ado, the men who had come so
near to a horrible death, set about having a meal.
Meantime, the aged scout and his two companions had heard the fusillade
of shots which had been fired at the man they had routed from his
retreat.
“Hooray! They’ve got the cuss!” shouted Ki Yi, gleefully, as the
reports reached their ears.
“Got nothin’!” snorted Nig.
“Why not?” demanded Deadshot. “Can’t you hear them firing?”
“Uhuh!”
“Then what makes you say they haven’t got him?”
“Too many shots! Injun fool paleface! No trick um, no keep firing!
Scalping Louie heap smart!”
From this logic there was no getting away and, though they stared
at one another in dismay, the two cowboys accepted the aged scout’s
statement without quibble.
“What’s to do?” asked Deadshot, after several minutes had brought no
further comment from their guide.
“Find paleface.”
“That sounds easy, but how are we going to get out of this hole without
our ponies which the cattle drove off?” inquired Ki Yi. “I’m not keen
on walking myself, especially when you’re liable to sink out of sight
if you don’t step just so.”
“Oh, we can keep hold of Nig’s rope,” rejoined Deadshot.
“No need walk,” grunted the aged scout.
“How are we going, fly?” grinned the man from the Star and Moon. “I’m
sorry, but I haven’t got my airship with me this trip,” he added,
jestingly, seeking to restore Nig’s good humor--which the escape of
his arch-enemy through the hands of the ranchmen and cowboys had sadly
upset. “But perhaps you have one hidden in the swamp somewhere back of
us, like you did your pony, Nig.”
“Paleface heap funny--nit!” snapped the old half-breed. “Maybe no think
so if Louie get um scalp.”
“That sure wouldn’t make a hit with me,” rejoined Ki Yi. “But if
Deadshot and me haven’t got to walk, will you kindly tell us how we are
to travel, seeing as how we’ve only got one pony among three?”
“And that one so short, Ki Yi couldn’t sit it without pulling up his
knees,” added the member of the Double Cross outfit.
“Pinto carry plenty easy--but slow,” responded Nig.
“Well, if that flea bitten bunch of hide and bones can stand it, I
reckon we can,” grinned Ki Yi.
But, despite his mocking words, both he and the other cowboy glanced
at the little piece of horseflesh with renewed respect and only too
thankful to be spared the danger from a misstep which would land them
in a sucking mudhole or from being bitten by some deadly poisonous
snake, the two cowpunchers mounted behind their aged guide.
The task they had undertaken, however, proved even too much for the
wily old half-breed, familiar with every foot of the swamps as he had
been. For the fire had obliterated all the old landmarks, leaving
a cover of charred grass and saplings in its wake which hid the
treacherous deathpools, while from all about rose a steam sickening in
its stench.
Wondering if they would ever be able to live through it and thanking
their stars they were not obliged to walk, the cowboys were busy
looking about them when the aged half-breed drew rein.
“No use. No make it,” he grunted, scanning the blackened, foul-smelling
waste. “Only paleface and fools try go through um.”
“Much obliged for the comparison, but what do you propose to do?” asked
Deadshot. “We sure can’t stay here. I believe I’d rather make a try at
getting through on foot, by myself, than dying in this hole!”
“Who say stay here?” demanded Nig.
“What else is there to do, if you say we can’t go on?”
“Go back.”
“But what good will that do?”
This lack of ability to grasp his purpose, disgusted the aged scout.
“Say, you think Nig fool enuff to get in where only one way get out,
like paleface?” he snorted. “We turn roun’ and go by the other trail.”
Chagrined to think they had both showed such a lamentable lack of
ordinary woodcraft, the cowboys looked at one another.
“By thunder! we are a pretty pair!” exclaimed Deadshot. “Here we’d
clean forgotten there was any other way to get out of this death hole.
Say, Nig, it’s a mighty good thing we’ve got you to help us or, if we
didn’t show any more common sense than we have so far. Scalping Louie
could raid all the ranches within a hundred miles while we sat round
somewhere, thinking we’d got him cornered.”
“That’s no dream,” assented the man from the Star and Moon outfit. “If
we ever do get the cuss, the credit’ll probably belong to Nig.”
All the while the cowpunchers were berating themselves for their
forgetting the other trails leading into the bottoms, they were riding
toward the West, and it was not long before they found, to their
delight, that the going was easier than along the track by which they
had entered.
“How much out of our way is this going to take us?” inquired Ki Yi,
after they had proceeded for an hour or so.
“By turning to South, ’fore long, no make much more than twenty mile.”
“How near will that bring us to where the cattle were driven in?” he
asked, continuing his questions.
“Mebbe ten, mebbe twelve mile South.”
“Well, I suppose you know what you’re talking about. But I can’t see
how you figure that out,” declared Deadshot. “Here you say our having
to go back and round will take us twenty miles out of the way and yet
we’ll bring up in about ten from where we started.”
“Uhuh. Go West. Go South. Go North. Swamp not all burned. Nig know
trail save um going clear out.”
“Say, isn’t it easy when you know the answer?” chuckled Ki Yi.
“Deadshot, the best thing for you and me to do is to keep our mouths
shut before we show Nig any more of our ignorance.”
And accordingly, the two cowboys held their peace while the aged scout
guided his pony with infinite skill in and out among the death holes,
turning so many times that neither of the men at his back were able to
keep any idea of direction.
Several times, the member of the Star and Moon outfit had it on his
tongue’s end to ask toward which point of the compass they were
traveling, but his pride prevented and just as it seemed to them that
they were going in a great circle, they were amazed to emerge from a
clump of saplings and underbrush and behold the plains in front of them.
In delighted surprise, the cowboys gazed at the welcome grass of the
rolling prairies.
“I sure do take off my hat to you, Nig,” exclaimed Ki Yi. “I’ve seen
some good work in my life, but I never saw anything equal to what
you’ve done. I’m all-fired glad it’s on Scalping Louie’s trail you are,
and not mine!”
Though the cowpuncher had intended his words to be complimentary, even
hoping that they might restore the aged scout’s good nature, he could
not have made a more unfortunate remark.
“Huh! Me on Louie’s trail some more, plenty! If Bowser and palefaces no
been heap fool, no need trail Louie!” he grunted. “Now mebbe day mebbe
week, mebbe never--if fool sojers take um back to reservation. No been
for fool paleface, Nig had Louie by now!”
Though the men at his back both believed his words, they were
determined not to let him dwell upon the idea that the presence of
themselves and the other avengers was a handicap rather than an
assistance and Deadshot quickly exclaimed:
“Oh, well, I don’t see how you could have got him alone. Besides, you
won’t have the hard time you think picking up his trail again. All
we’ve got to do is to find the rest of our crowd and they’ll be able to
tell us in which direction the ornery crittur went.”
But the aged scout was not to be propitiated so easily.
“Heap good that do!” he snorted. “Paleface see Louie go South, mebbe.
Good. But while they eating grub, thinking catch um in the morning,
Louie him sneak back and go North.”
“There won’t be any danger of his doing that, now _you’re_ with us,”
shrewdly interposed Deadshot. “The very fact that they can tell you in
which direction Scalping Louie went will save you just so much time
in getting on his trail because you won’t be obliged to go searching
round for it at random.”
Though he gave no indication either by sign or speech that this
statement was correct and appealed to him, the aged scout, however,
became less taciturn as they rode Northward.
“What makes you go up instead of to the East or South?” asked Ki Yi.
“You don’t think the rest of our bunch are fools enough to try to flee
from a fire by riding in front of it, when they could turn to one side
or back and get away, do you?”
“No. We go up because we find paleface waiting near trail for us.”
“What, do you think they’ll sit quietly down and give Scalping Louie
the chance to get away when they can follow him?”
“Paleface no follow Louie,” returned the aged scout.
“What makes you think that?”
“Wait for us. Bowser, um want wait for Nig. Nig know. Hawk, um heap
talk. No got good think cap. Bowser, um think we come back same trail
we went in, so um wait near there.”
That this opinion of the clever old half-breed not alone showed his
marvelous ability to read human nature, but was in accordance with the
facts, the reader already knows--and it was not long before the cowboys
were made aware of it also.
By the time the strange trio mounted upon the back of the flea-bitten
pinto had reached the plains, dusk was upon them, which steadily
increased until it was almost pitch dark.
Of a sudden, as they mounted a rise in the prairies, the aged scout
pointed ahead.
In the distance could be seen the fitful flicker of a fire.
“Man, dear, you don’t suppose that could be the Midnight Raider, do
you?” eagerly inquired Deadshot.
“What, Louie build a fire when um know um being hunted? Injun no such
fool,” retorted Nig, with infinite scorn in his voice.
“Then who is it?”
“No know. Think Bowser and palefaces.”
Unable to dispute this assertion, the cowboys held their peace, for
they realized that from the actions not only of their bunkmates, but of
themselves, they had no right to resent the contempt for their scouting
powers which the old half-breed held.
From time to time, as they steadily approached, they could see the form
of some man silhouetted against the flare, as he arose and moved about.
“Howling coyotes! but couldn’t we pick him off easy!” exclaimed Ki
Yi, after one of these movements which were made without any apparent
thought that there might be enemies afoot.
“And he’d never know what hit him!” returned Deadshot.
“Say, let’s throw a crimp into the bunch!” ejaculated the member of the
Star and Moon outfit, all at once.
“How?” demanded his companion.
“Sneak up on ’em and hold ’em up!”
“Man, dear! But that would be good fun!” returned Deadshot. Then,
turning to the old half-breed, he asked: “Do you think we could do it,
Nig?”
“Uhuh! Heap easy!”
“Then let’s do it!” exclaimed the two cowboys, together.
The thought of giving Bowser and his men a practical illustration of
his ability to stalk his game, whether man or beast, appealed to the
aged scout, and readily he entered into the joke.
Without delay, the trio dismounted and Nig, by means of a few gutteral
commands, made his pinto lie down.
“No need cover um. So dark no one see,” he declared. “You keep close to
me. Do what me do.”
Having taken a thorough observation of the exact location of the
campfire, the aged scout doubled up, crouching so low that his back
could not have been seen above the top of the grass, even if it had not
been dark, and advanced, gliding through the mesquite so skillfully
that it was nigh impossible for the cowboys to follow him. But out
of consideration for them, he paused occasionally, giving them the
opportunity to catch up to him.
“We must be pretty close to ’em now,” whispered Ki Yi, after they had
proceeded for some ten minutes.
“Uhuh. Palefaces no more thirty yards away.”
“Then let’s rush ’em!” exclaimed Deadshot.
“Get heap full lead,” returned Nig.
This response suggested a contingency that had not hitherto occurred to
the cowpunchers and the thought filled them with alarm.
“Won’t we, anyway?” queried Ki Yi, anxiously. “Seems to me it would be
better to go back to get the pony and then ride up, shouting to them as
we came.”
“Not much!” returned the aged scout. “We play um joke. Come on. Do just
what I do.”
It was not without many misgivings, however, that his companions
followed him, as, crouching even lower than before, Nig crept upon the
unsuspecting ranchmen and cowboys squatting about the fire.
When they were so near that they could not only hear their voices but
understand what was being said, the two cowpunchers expected that their
guide would play his coup.
But the aged scout was determined to impress the entire outfit with his
amazing ability--and it was not until there were scarce a foot of grass
between him and his play-victims that he paused.
Then, turning and signing to his companions that he was ready to act,
Nig drew his six shooters.
With a leap, he rose from the grass.
“Hands up!” he yelled, at the same time covering the men about the fire
with his guns.
In amazement, Bowser and the rest of the avengers whirled in the
direction whence the startling command had come--finding to their
astonishment that they were gazing into the muzzles of six revolvers.