BILLY ASHE IS DISAPPOINTED
Tom Clifton, the sentinel, gazing abstractedly out of the window,
suddenly saw a number of horsemen, like shadowy phantoms, ride from
behind a spur of the hill, and, with ominous silence, bear down upon
the house.
This sight so astounded the tall boy that for an instant he stood stock
still. But, with a strong effort, recovering mastery over his tingling
nerves, he yelled a warning.
“Great Cæsar! Wake up, fellows, wake up!”
His ringing alarm had not ceased to echo when sharp gleams of fire
caught his eye and he heard the rapid crack, crack of pistol shots,
together with a succession of shouts.
By this time the boys were springing to their feet, as wide awake as
they had ever been in their lives, every one hurling eager, anxious
inquiries toward the Rambler.
“Keep under cover!” screamed Larry. “You chaps wouldn’t take any
warning. Now see what’s come of it!”
Crack--crack--crack! The fusillade of shots rang out again. They could
hear the sound of many voices. Thoroughly alarmed, all sprang for
points of safety, as far away from the range of bullets as possible.
Every instant they expected to hear the ping, ping of flying lead.
This ominous sound, however, failed to reach their ears.
But something else did.
“We call upon you to surrender!” shouted a powerful voice. “The house
is surrounded. There are no possible means of escape!”
“Oh--oh!” wailed Larry. “What is going to happen?”
“Come out one by one and throw up your arms!” again thundered the
voice. “Be lively, now, or we’ll fire on the house!”
At this awe-inspiring command the boys stood motionless, as though
their muscles refused to perform their usual functions. They realized
instantly that no time would be given them to choose any plan of
action. The voice of the speaker indicated a deadly earnestness not to
be trifled with.
Who among them would be the first to go out in the gray, cheerless dawn
to face this mysterious body of horsemen who had them completely at
their mercy?
For a few seconds the silence was dense--painful. Each waited for the
others to speak.
“Are you coming, or shall we fire?” roared the man outside. “Surrender,
in the name of the law!”
“Ah ha!” cried Dave, suddenly. “What does that mean? In the name of the
law--the name of the law!”
“I--I--be-be-lieve it’s only some kind of a trick!” cried Larry, with
vibrating voice.
“For the third and last time: are you going to come out?”
“I’ll go,” said Dave.
“You’ll do nothing of the sort!” exclaimed Tom, heroically.
He brushed hastily past the stout boy, and, with a fast-beating heart,
swung open the big front door and stepped outside.
“Up with your hands!” came a ringing order. “Do you surrender?”
[Illustration: HE LOOKED UP AT THE MAN]
For the first time gaining an unobstructed view, Tom Clifton uttered
a gasp of astonishment. A half dozen red-coated figures stationed at
different points were covering him with revolvers.
“Great Scott--the--the Mounted Police!” he cried.
The feeling of relief was so great that he almost felt like bursting
into a laugh.
“Do we surrender? Why, certainly--anything to oblige.”
A distinct cry of amazement from the foremost rider was immediately
heard. A touch of the quirt sent his horse leaping toward the Rambler,
whose arms dropped to his side.
An explosive exclamation came from the officer, so loud, so full of
pent-up wrath as to cause Tom Clifton to step hastily back.
He looked up at the man.
“You!--You again!” cried a furious voice.
“Billy Ashe!” fell from Tom’s lips in tones of amazement.
The two faced each other. There was a moment of tense--dramatic silence.
The young trooper of the Northwest Mounted was apparently too
dumfounded to follow up his speech. The other horsemen galloped up,
while the crowd rushed pell-mell from the ranch-house.
“I can hardly believe it!” came in Witmar’s voice. He turned toward the
other men. “These are the very chaps we told you about.”
“Ah! Good-morning, Mr. Ashe!” remarked Sam Randall, pleasantly. “This,
indeed, is a joyous surprise!”
The trooper found his voice.
“I never heard of such confounded luck in all my life!” he yelled. “Are
there any men in that house? Quick--tell me!”
“Not a single one,” answered Tom. “We scared Hank Styles away.”
“We might have known it!” exclaimed Ashe, violently. “This is the
second time you’ve bungled things and allowed the men to escape us.”
“Aye, aye!” said Witmar. “We’ll never get ’em as long as these chaps
remain in Canada.” And, to Billy Ashe’s intense anger and disgust, he
burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Several of the others
joined in.
This wave of mirth immediately communicated itself to the lads.
Billy Ashe’s disappointment, however, was too great to permit him to
see any humor in the situation. An all-night’s vigil, which every one
had confidently predicted would be the means of their rounding up the
entire band, had only resulted in bringing them once more face to face
with this crowd of boys from the States. It was too exasperating to
overlook.
“You fellows are under arrest!” he exclaimed, harshly. “Step right back
into that house!”
“Must we hold up our hands?” asked Tom.
“No back talk now. You have interfered with officers of His Majesty’s
service. That’s no joking matter.”
“Don’t try to resist, boys,” exclaimed Witmar, grinning broadly, “or
we’ll cover you again.”
“Fellow prisoners,” cried Dick, “let us invite our captors to
breakfast.”
“I am sorry we should have been the means of putting you to so much
trouble,” said Dave Brandon. “I hope next time things will turn out
better.”
“They never will,” growled Ashe. “Every time I expect to make an
important capture I’ll find one of you chaps bobbing up to say: ‘Why,
hello, here’s Billy Ashe again!’”
The policemen picketed their horses, then followed the crowd inside.
It didn’t look very much like captors and captured. A big breakfast was
cooked; and gradually the awful frown which rested on Trooper Ashe’s
face departed. He listened to all they had to say, and actually smiled
when he learned the trick Hank Styles had played upon them.
“And you haven’t seen your friend since?” he asked.
“No,” responded Tom. “And we’re a bit worried about him, too.”
“Don’t let that bother you in the least,” said Ashe. “He’s probably
arranging things so that whatever little chance we might have had to
nab ’em is gone.”
The roars of laughter which followed this remark were hearty and
spontaneous.
“Now, fellows,” went on Ashe, turning to the other policemen, “you’d
better scour the country.” Then he added, addressing Tom: “No, I’m not
going to tell you how Hank Styles and his men came to be suspected--or
when. If Sergeant Erskine chooses to do so, all right.”
“Are we still under arrest?” laughed Sam.
“Technically--yes,” returned Ashe. “I want your word of honor that all
will report to the sergeant within a week’s time.”
“You have it,” said Dave, calmly. “I suppose we shall run across Bob
Somers before then.”
At this remark the boys’ thoughts were turned into another channel.
Their apprehensions returned. Tom walked over to the window and poked
his head outside, to see that the long streamers of whitish mist were
being gradually driven away by the rays of the rising sun. But in
whatever direction he looked empty stretches alone met his eye.
The troopers, accompanied by the boys, were soon outside searching for
clues. In this the young Cree was of material assistance. Near the base
of the hill, on a stretch of bare earth, he pointed out the imprints of
a horse’s hoofs so sharp and clear as to indicate a rapid pace. A bit
further along a small bush was partly flattened.
“Tracks fresh,” said Thunderbolt. “Him go up hill.”
“Two of you had better ride in that direction, while the others scout
about over the prairie,” said Ashe to his men.
On returning to the ranch-house the trooper, aided by Witmar, made a
thorough search for contraband goods. None, however, were found.
“A slick lot!” exclaimed the former. “I reckon, though, they’ll never
pull off any more of their tricks around these parts. Now, fellows, we
must be off.”
“Where to?” asked Sam.
“We’ll stop at Jerry Duncan’s, on our way to the post of police at the
settlement.”
The lads accompanied the policemen outside, and watched them mount and
ride away.
As soon as their forms were lost to view behind a rise in the rolling
prairie plans were made for the day. It was decided to divide up into
searching parties; some to explore the hills, others to ride off into
the open country.
And although they continued their task until nightfall not the
slightest sign of the missing Rambler could be found.
Supper was eaten in dismal silence. Sunset, twilight and night came on.
Lanterns were lighted and again placed in the windows. Monotony and
anxiety literally drove the lads to their blankets. But none of them
slept well. And in their waking moments the all-absorbing topic was
continually discussed.
Morning rolled around. They jumped up unrefreshed, had a cold
breakfast, and, following this, horses were saddled. It was impossible
to banish from their minds the fear that something might be amiss with
Bob.
No longer could the suspense be borne.
Seizing eagerly upon a suggestion made by Dave, Tom wrote a note and
placed it on the table.
“Yes, sir--Jerry Duncan’s for us!” he cried. “Gee, fellows! Bob may
have gone off in that direction and stopped in to see the ranchman.”
It was a very faint hope, but better than none.
Following directions given by Ashe, the lads started off, pushing
their horses hard. And never had their eyes seen a more welcome sight
than when Jerry Duncan’s ranch-house, in its secluded situation among
the hills, appeared in view.
As the big dog’s loud barking announced their presence the smiling and
genial owner stepped hastily out of the door and almost rushed toward
them.
“Welcome, boys!” he exclaimed, in his most hearty tone. “Welcome!”
His eyes ran quickly over the group. A shadow seemed to cross his
face. “Ashe and Witmar were here yesterday, and told me Bob Somers was
missing. It isn’t possible----”
“Then you haven’t seen or heard anything of him?” asked Tom, with
painful apprehension.
“Indeed I only wish I had.”
This answer, although half expected, filled the hearts of the boys with
a sinking feeling. They looked at one another in silence.