The party in the tunnel had suffered dreadfully. The woodwork about
the mouth of the excavation had caught fire, and to save their lives
the miners had fought the flames with all their strength. Mrs. Goodwin
and Willie had been carried back around a turn in the tunnel where
the flames could not reach them, but they came very near suffocating.
The mules and horses had become unruly, and in the stampede, when the
fire was raging about them, two of the men had been badly kicked. Mrs.
Goodwin had fainted and lay like one dead for hours. Little Willie was
frightened into insensibility, and the men who were striving to save
the woodwork at the opening of the tunnel got sadly burned about their
hands and faces.
“It was well that you took to the water,” called out one of the men who
was first to meet Mr. Sukolt when Bushy’s father came to investigate
the condition of the people in the tunnel. “Just look at the fix we are
in!”
Bushy hastened back and searched for Willie and his mamma. The men had
placed them on a kind of shelf made of the walls of rock, and there
they lay white and still, with Mr. Goodwin frantic beside them.
“Padre,” Bushy cried, “let me go back and hitch up one of the wagons.”
“The way is covered with fallen trees,” he said. “It would take all
night to clear a road for a wagon. You must take Jip and bring Shanks’s
medicine-bag and the roll of bandages, while we get something to eat
and drink. What a blessing we are unhurt and able to help these poor
fellows!” He threw off his coat and so did Tom and Shanks, and those
who were most badly injured were soon resting on a temporary bed made
for them out of the half-burned clothing in the wagons.
“We saved what you see by dipping blankets in the water and throwing
them over the side exposed to the fire,” said one miner. “But I believe
I shall die from the burns I got doing it,” and the poor fellow groaned
aloud with pain.
“Oh, no, you won’t!” said Bushy, kneeling down close to him. “Shanks
can cure everything, and when you get something to eat you will be all
right.”
Shanks soon revived Mrs. Goodwin. Then he gave little Willie some
medicine. “When he wakes up he will be all right,” said Shanks, in
answer to Bushy’s anxious inquiry. Shanks had been thoughtful enough
to bring a small medicine-box which answered their temporary needs, but
Bushy was sent back to bring the large one.
“Hurry, child,” called Mr. Sukolt. “It will soon be dark, and we must
do all we can before the light goes. Look out for the burning trees.”
“Here, Bushy, wait a minute!” called Tom, running after her. “Buckle on
my revolver, and should any of the horses be tangled or broken loose,
fire three times and I will come down. Perhaps I had better go along,
anyway,” and he started with her.
“No, no, Tom,” insisted Bushy. “You make a big fire and get the supper
started. Everybody is starved. And by the time you get ready for me to
help you I’ll be back with the medicine-box. Why, I can put it in front
of me on Jip and be here again in no time. Jip can go anywhere I can.”
So away she hurried down the path out of sight, on past the place
where Willie fell over the cliff, then down to the lowland, where the
wagons, mules, and horses had been left. No horses or mules were there.
The spot was bare, and only the deep cuts in the ground made by the
animals’ hoofs told that the place had ever been occupied.
“Rover,” called Bushy. “Rover, where are you?”
A joyous bark from the wagon, in which Rover had been chained ever
since the fire had been discovered, announced that he was all right.
“Ah, I am not afraid with Rover and Tom’s revolver,” she said,
advancing to the first wagon and climbing in.
Rover almost ate her up, he was so glad to see her. “Poor fellow,”
she called, “did you try to keep the horses, or did you untie their
halters?”
This gave Bushy a new idea. “I wonder if they did get away by
themselves, after all.” She set Rover free; he was out of the wagon as
quick as she was, then she began to examine carefully the imprints in
the ground.
“That’s queer,” she finally exclaimed, kneeling to look more carefully
at a man’s footprint. “Neither Padre, nor Tom, nor Shanks ever wore
a boot like that. Rover, has anybody been here?” she cried, fairly
shaking the dog off his feet in her anxiety to know.
“Bow-wow!” answered Rover as loud as he could, and then bounded off
toward the creek and sniffed and howled on the bank.
“Horse-thieves, as sure as I live!” she said to herself; “and poor
Rover was tied so he could not defend even Jip.
“I’ll just take a look about, so I can tell the Padre which way they
have gone,” she thought, and ran after Rover and looked down the
stream.
“They tried to follow the creek, Rover,” she screamed at last in
delight; “but look, old fellow, they had to come out just below; there
are the tracks! Come, let us see what they did afterward.” Her heart
was almost broken to think Jip was stolen, too.
“What’s that, Rover?” She paused and listened. Rover’s nose went high
in the air as it always did when he thought he understood. Bushy put
her ear to the ground. “It’s only the falling branches, Rover. They are
breaking all the time and burning, too, in some places.” Rover, every
now and then, howled with fright and pain as he would step on some hot
stick or brand. They managed to make their way to a sudden turning
around a sharp rocky bend. The scene that they then witnessed was
startling. There was a Mexican greaser, as the half-breeds are called,
riding one of the mules and leading the other animals. Jip was ugly,
and every few seconds would pull back and almost unseat the Mexican.
They were going slowly, yet no doubt would get out of the burnt woods
soon, and then there would be no hope of ever catching the horses or
the thief.
“Rover, we must get the horses,” said Bushy, softly, shutting her mouth
with a snap that meant she would fight for them if necessary.
“I am so far away now I don’t think Tom or any one at the tunnel would
hear the three shots, and then I may need them myself, if the Mexican
is mean. I’ll shoot him if he doesn’t give up Jip.”
Even in all this danger a smile came to her lips, and her eyes for a
moment sparkled. “Sh! Rover, lie down; we will fix the Mexican.”
She dodged behind the huge bowlder that had so long kept the horse and
horse-thief from her view, and gave a peculiar whistle. Jip pricked up
his ears as if he thought he had heard something, then as if in doubt,
trotted on with the rest of the horses. The path was now wide and quite
clear of fallen trees, so that the Mexican was trying to make good
headway.
“Now, Rover, watch!” said Bushy, and she gave the whistle three times,
so loud and shrill that it seemed to pierce the very heart of both Jip
and the thief. Jip gave a sudden bound backward and followed with a
decided jump toward the place where Bushy lay hidden. The Mexican, with
a curse, fell to the ground, and before he could drop the halter by
which he had been leading Jip, he was dragged some distance.
With a soft chuckle Bushy grabbed Jip’s halter and sprang on his back
and was down upon the Mexican horse-thief before he had well regained a
standing position. Tottering and blinded, he looked up, expecting to be
killed on the spot.
“Throw up your hands, sir!” called out Bushy in her childish voice. The
man was so surprised that he merely gaped at her.
“Throw up your hands!” she cried again, and this time he looked into
the muzzle of a revolver. “You were stealing my father’s horses, and
the miners hang men for that. You must help me take them back to the
tunnel. Where are your revolvers? Are you unarmed?”
“I lost everything while fighting with the fire. The belt broke and
I have nothing, señorita,” was the bland answer. “I am badly burnt
and”----
“But not too bad to stop you from stealing my father’s horses and my
Jip,” interrupted Bushy. The stealing of Jip incensed her more than the
taking of the other six animals.
“I will not shoot you so long as you behave. But I must take you and
the horses back to the Padre. If you are burned, Shanks will doctor
you. Padre never hangs people, so you need not be afraid; but now take
up the halters of the animals and lead them back to the wagons. Take
the two mules first; tie the others here so they won’t wander.”
Bushy kept the revolver pointed at the man’s head and never took her
eyes off him. When he had the two mules ready to lead, she ordered him
to go ahead. Slowly he advanced, and in cowardly fashion gazed back
every few seconds into the muzzle of the revolver.
“I can shoot,” cried Bushy once, when she thought the man looked as if
he were going to try and run. “I will drop you as sure as you live,
if you try to get away.” The odd glitter in her eye advised the thief
to obey, and he slowly led the mules to the end of the wagon and tied
them securely. “Now,” said Bushy, “we will not go back for the horses,
they can stay there until Tom goes after them; we will go to the tunnel
where the men are.”
Bushy was growing a little bit frightened. The revolver began to shake
in her hand. She realized that the Mexican might get the advantage of
her, and now she wished she had fired the three shots for help.
“Go right up that path,” she said, indicating the way with the nod of
her head. The man started, but began fumbling oddly about his flannel
shirt for something.
“What’s the matter?” she asked in a very brave voice, though her heart
was full of fear.
“I am burnt badly,” he answered. Then looking up he saw two men
hastening down upon them. They were Tom and Shanks, who had started out
to learn why Bushy delayed bringing the medicine-box. The Mexican’s
eyes flashed wickedly, and, with a sudden, lightning movement, he
turned and made a dash at Bushy, with a bright dagger in his uplifted
hand.
Simultaneously with his yell of defiance came the report of a pistol,
and the man fell headlong under Jip’s legs.
The instant Bushy realized her danger she had fired, and when she saw
the man unable to get up her arm sank to her side, and the revolver
fell to the ground.
Jip jumped to one side and gave a neigh of recognition as Tom and
Shanks ran breathlessly toward him.
No word was spoken until Bushy was held safely in Shanks’s arms. Then
Tom stepped over to the writhing Mexican, and asked, in a trembling
voice, though he tried not to show his agitation: “What was the row,
Bushy?”
“He is a horse-thief, Tom,” she answered, raising herself out of
Shanks’s embrace long enough to take a good square look at the man. “He
had stolen every one of the horses and was driving them down stream.
Oh, Shanks, wasn’t it awful to have to shoot him! But he rushed at me,
did you see?” Bushy buried her face in Shanks’s buckskin blouse, and
Rover took it upon himself to guard the wounded man, and snap and snarl
at his every move.
Three shots soon brought Mr. Sukolt and one of the miners to the
scene. It was another long hour before they all got back to the tunnel
again, and it was two days before everything was in condition to
proceed on their journey. Mr. Goodwin and his family remained at Silver
City.
[Illustration: THE INSTANT BUSHY REALIZED HER DANGER, SHE FIRED.]