"HOLD UP THERE, SILVER BUTTONS!"
During the time that George had been a prisoner among the guerrillas, he
had made it a point to leave the rancho two or three times during the
night, his object being to accustom his guards, if he had any, to seeing
him go and come at all hours. The fact that no one had ever attempted to
interfere with him in any way, encouraged the belief that no one ever
would interfere with him; but somehow he felt a strange sinking at his
heart as he arose from his blanket and proceeded to arrange it, so that
one to have taken a casual glance at it, would have supposed that it
still concealed a human figure.
"I can't imagine what is the matter with me," said George, to himself,
as he moved to the door with noiseless footsteps, and gazed about the
silent and deserted court-yard. "I never have been stopped while
passing through that gate, and I don't see why I should stand so much in
fear of being stopped to-night. Perhaps it is because I know that if I
don't escape the first time trying, I never shall. Yes, that must be it.
Well, I must make the attempt successful."
So saying, George stepped boldly out of the door, and after assuring
himself that his lasso was securely fastened about his waist, he thrust
his hands into his pockets and walked along with the greatest
deliberation, as he always did when taking his airings about the
court-yard. But he did not go straight toward the archway that formed
the gate. He drew up behind the wall and peeped cautiously around the
corner of it. As he did so he drew a long breath and his courage gave
away altogether. There was a sentinel at the opposite end of the
archway. He was leaning in an easy attitude against the wall, his feet
crossed and his hands clasped at a "parade rest" over the muzzle of his
carbine. His sombrero was pushed on the back of his head, and he was
gazing in a dreamy sort of way toward the hills that bounded the western
end of the valley.
The officer in command of the guerrillas (George did not know who he
was, for since he had been at the rancho he had heard orders given by
nobody except Fletcher), had stationed the sentry at the gate to keep
his men from straying away to visit some of the neighboring haciendas.
He wanted them all there when he was ready to begin the march for
Queretaro in the morning, and the measures he had taken to secure their
presence had shut up George's only avenue of escape.
So thought the prisoner, as he took another look at the sentinel and
walked back toward his quarters. He had scarcely moved away from the
wall when a loud yawn broke the stillness, and a moment later the door
which opened into the room next to the one he occupied as a
sleeping-apartment, was filled by a tall figure, who stretched his arms
and rubbed his eyes vigorously. It was Fletcher. George was really
alarmed by this unexpected encounter, but the cattle-thief's first words
proved that he did not suspect anything.
"Hallo, there!" he exclaimed, when he saw the boy coming toward him.
"What's the matter with you. Can't you sleep?"
"No," replied George. "I don't do enough during the day to make me tired
enough to sleep at night."
"You'll have enough to do to-morrow," replied the boss cattle-thief,
encouragingly; "so you had better go back to your blanket. We shall be
in the saddle at daylight."
"Where are we going?" asked George, who was not supposed to know
anything of the contemplated movement on the part of the guerrillas.
"Down to join old Max," was the reply. "Wouldn't wonder if we saw lively
times down there, too. They say that Max is on his last legs, now that
the Frenchmen have left him; and if that is the case, we are going to
leave him, too, and strike hands with Juarez. You see, there is going to
be some shooting done before this little matter is settled; and we don't
want to be found on the losing side."
"It is no more than I should expect of you," said the boy, to himself,
as he passed on toward his own room. "You joined your fortunes with
Maximilian when you thought he was sure to succeed; and stand ready to
desert him at the very time when he needs you the most. For downright
meanness, commend me to a renegade of your stamp."
But, after all, Fletcher and his men were not more despicable than some
who held higher positions in the army. One of Maximilian's trusted
native officers, General Lopez, betrayed him; and on the 19th day of the
following June, he was led out of his prison at Queretaro, to be shot.
The contra-guerrillas did, indeed, see lively times at that place, being
almost cut to pieces while they were on their way to join Juarez.
George afterward heard all about it from Springer, who came out of the
fight in safety, and profiting by the severe lesson he had received at
the hands of George's herdsman, made efforts to lead an honest and
respectable life.
George did not forget his own affairs, while commenting upon the perfidy
of Fletcher and his guerrilla companions. While he was thinking about
that, he was preparing to try another way of escape. He did not go into
his own room again, but passed on to the apartment that served as a
stable for his horse, which had never been allowed to run at liberty
with the others. It will be remembered, that Philip had warned the men
who captured George, to look out for that same horse, for he was very
swift; and if they allowed him the least chance, he would carry his
master so far out of their sight, that they would never see him again.
These men had, in turn, warned Fletcher, and that was the reason the
horse had been kept confined. But there was another steed about there
that was quite as fleet as Ranger, and which could be as readily caught
when running at large, and George was impatient to be on his back.
In the room in which Ranger was secured, was a window that was high and
narrow--_very_ narrow, the boy thought, as he looked at it, and then
took a survey of his broad chest. It had more the appearance of a
port-hole than a window; for the stones of which the thick wall was
built, were laid at such an angle, that the opening was much wider in
the room than it was on the outside of the building. Fortunately, there
were neither bars nor window-sash to impede his movements.
"It will be hard work," thought George, "but I must get through or go to
Queretaro."
He quickly pulled off his coat, which, with his sombrero and lasso, he
thrust through the window. Then having further reduced his proportions
by removing all his outer clothing, he crawled into the opening, feet
first, and after a good deal of effort and some very tight squeezing, he
worked himself through and dropped to the ground on the outside.
To put on his clothing again, catch up his lasso and leave the building
out of sight in the darkness, was the work of but a very few minutes. It
took him longer to find the horses, and he approached them with the
greatest caution, for fear of creating a stampede among them; but when
he found them, his troubles were over, for almost the first one he saw
was Silk Stocking. The animal allowed himself to be caught, raised not
the slightest objection as the lasso was forced into his mouth and tied
about his lower jaw, and when the boy flung himself upon his back, he
moved off without waiting for the word.
Now came the most dangerous part of the whole undertaking. In order to
reach the road that led to the river, he was obliged to pass along the
valley within easy gun-shot of the sentry at the gateway, who would
certainly have discovered him had it been even moonlight; but
fortunately the night was very dark--so dark, that the only way in
which George could tell when he reached the road was by listening to the
sound made by his horse's hoofs. That intelligent animal seemed to know
just what was expected of him. He kept in a rapid walk until he reached
the road, and then he turned into it without any guidance from his
rider, and of his own free will broke into a gallop.
Although George had passed along this road but once before, he had no
fear of losing his way. His bump of locality was so well developed, that
he could find in the darkest of nights any place which he had once
visited, and while he trusted to his horse to keep in the road, he
trusted to his own senses to keep him from straying off into the wrong
trail. He travelled as a river-pilot guides his vessel at night--by the
_shape_ of the trees and bushes on each side of the way, and they were
all familiar to him, although he had seen them but once. He stopped
occasionally to listen for sounds of pursuit, but if there was any
attempted, those who were following him never came within hearing.
For the first few miles George kept his horse moving along at an easy
gait, holding his speed in reserve for an emergency; but when half the
distance to the river had been passed over, and Silk Stocking, warming
to his work, showed an inclination to go faster, the boy did not try to
check him. He had not been long on his back before he told himself that
he didn't wonder that Ned's desire to keep him had been strong enough to
get him into trouble. The animal's speed was equal to his beauty and
docility.
As soon as George became satisfied that his escape had been
accomplished, he began to think of the future. Where should he go and
what should he do after he got across the river? His uncle and cousin
did not want him at home (he had heard and experienced enough to remove
all his doubts on that point), and George was too high-spirited to go
where he was not welcome. He knew that it was in his power to bring
about a different state of affairs at the rancho, and that he could do
it by simply applying for a new guardian; but his friend and counsellor,
Mr. Gilbert, had told him that the change would have to be made by
process of law, and George was afraid that before the matter was
settled, some very damaging disclosures regarding his uncle's way of
doing business would be brought to light. It would never do, he thought,
to allow his father's only brother to be disgraced, and if he permitted
him to stay there in charge of the estate, it was quite probable that
when George reached his majority he would step into a very small
patrimony.
"I don't know what to do," thought the boy, after he had racked his
brain in the unsuccessful effort to find a way out of the difficulty. "I
must either come down on Uncle John, or stand quietly by and see him
pocket all my money. I don't see why he and Ned can't behave themselves!
They will make enough out of me in an honest way, according to the terms
of father's will, to make them independent, and I do wish they would
stop stealing from me and laying plans to get me out of the way. I'll
speak to Mr. Gilbert about it."
Silk Stocking might have made quicker work of the eighteen miles that
lay between the rancho and the river, if his rider had urged him to do
it, but being allowed to choose his own gait, he accomplished it in
about two hours and a half, so that it was about four o'clock in the
morning when George crossed the ford and found himself again on Texas
soil. Feeling perfectly safe from pursuit, he jogged along at a very
easy pace, directing his course toward Mr. Gilbert's rancho. He did not
know that Uncle John had followed Ned to Brownsville, or rather, he was
not certain of it, and he did not want to see him again, until he had
had an interview with the only man in the settlement who was
unprejudiced enough to give him sensible advice.
It was twenty-five miles to his friend's rancho, and before he had gone
half that distance, he was aroused from a reverie into which he had
fallen by a quick movement on the part of his horse, which suddenly
threw up his head, and after turning his ears back as if he were
listening to some sound behind him, set off at the top of his speed. At
the same moment George heard the muffled sound of horses' hoofs in the
grass behind him. That was a most alarming sound, but it was accompanied
by one that was still more alarming--the sharp crack of a revolver and
the noise made by a bullet as it passed through the air close by his
side.
"Hold up, there, Silver Buttons!" shouted a voice that sounded strangely
familiar to the boy's ears. "That's only a warning! the next one will
strike centre, sure!"
Believing that Fletcher and his men were upon him, and that the time had
come for the exhibition of all the speed which Silk Stocking had thus
far held in reserve, George threw himself flat upon his horse's neck,
dug his heels into his side, and looking back over his shoulder, saw
that he was pursued by two men, who, by keeping their nags in the long
grass that grew on each side of the trail, had succeeded in coming quite
close to him before their approach was discovered. But they were not
Fletcher's men; they were Texans.
A single glance at them was enough for George, who, seeing one of the
men raise his revolver and take a steady aim at his head, brought
himself to an upright position, stopped his horse with a word and faced
about. The man lowered his revolver, and he and his companion rode up
and scowled fiercely at George, who knew who they were and whom they
supposed him to be, before they said a word to him. One of them was the
owner of Silk Stocking; and as George had his cousin's clothes on, of
course they supposed him to be Ned Ackerman, the boy who had given them
so much trouble. George remembered how savagely they had talked while
they were smoking at his camp-fire, that they had threatened to snatch
Ned so bald-headed that the next time he saw a stolen horse he would
run from it, and he wondered what they would do to him, now that they
had caught him with the stolen animal in his possession. Of course, it
would be no trouble at all for him to prove that he wasn't Ned Ackerman,
and that he had never had anything to do with the stolen horse, if they
would only give him the opportunity; but the probability was that they
would take vengeance on him first and listen to his explanation
afterward, if there was life enough left in him to make it.
There was another disagreeable thought that came into George's mind
while he was sitting there waiting for the men to approach (one thinks
rapidly when he is in danger, you know), and it was this: If he proved
that he wasn't Ned Ackerman, wouldn't it also be necessary for him to
prove who he was? And while he was doing it, wouldn't the men learn that
he had had something to do with Ned's escape? They would certainly be
very angry at him for that. In fact, it will be remembered that while he
was in Mr. Gilbert's library, he had over heard one of these same men
say, as he and his companion passed through the hall, that he would like
to get his hands on that rascally boy who had sent them so far out of
their course. Taken altogether, it looked as though George was in a
fair way to be punished both for what he did as well as for what he
didn't do.
"Well, my young Silver Buttons, you stopped just in time," said one of
the men, as he rode up and seized the lasso which served George for a
bridle. "If I had sent one more bullet after you, it would have struck
something, sure. Get off that horse before I knock you off. You have
backed him for the last time!"
George lost not a moment in obeying this order. The man carried a loaded
riding-whip, and as he uttered these words he wound the lash about his
hand, in readiness to strike the boy with the heavy butt, if he did not
move on the instant.
"A pretty chase you have led us," exclaimed the other horseman, whom we
have heard addressed as "Joe." "How did you get back from Brownsville so
quickly?"
"I haven't been to Brownsville yet," answered George, "but I hope to go
there to-morrow or next day."
"Perhaps you will, and then again perhaps you won't," said the owner of
the stolen horse, who answered to the name of Lowry. "It's my opinion,
that when we are through with you, there won't be enough of you left to
go any where."
"Very well," replied George, with a calmness that surprised himself. "If
you have made up you minds to that, of course you can carry out your
resolution, for I haven't the power to resist you. If I had, I should
use it. I confess that appearances are against me----"
"Yes; I should say they were," interrupted Joe.
"But I can explain everything to your satisfaction," continued George,
"and more than that, I can prove every statement I make."
"By whom will you prove it?"
"By people living right here in this settlement, who have known me ever
since I was born."
"Wouldn't trust 'em," exclaimed Mr. Lowry, quickly. "We know, by
experience, that the most of them are rascals who are in league with
you. One night, when we were lost on the prairie, we camped with a
cow-boy who told us a cock-and-a-bull story about having been robbed by
the raiders, and who sent us thirty-five miles out of our way; Gilbert
sent with us, as guide, a herdsman who lost us again on purpose; and
finally, we were met by one of Ackerman's servants, who told us, that
his employer had just started for Palos to be gone two or three weeks,
and that his son went with him riding this very horse. We went in
pursuit as soon as we got our own horses out of Ackerman's corral; and
we might have been riding toward Palos yet, if we hadn't been set right
by a man of the name of Cook. We knew that he wouldn't deceive us, for
he was very angry at you for shooting some of his cattle. He's the only
white man in the settlement."
"I am glad to know that you have confidence in somebody," answered
George, wondering who that servant was who sent Mr. Lowry and his
companion off toward Palos, "and I am perfectly willing to go to his
rancho with you. When you know all the circumstances connected with this
miserable business, you will not have so poor an opinion of the people
living in this settlement."
"Well, I must say that you ring a pretty oily tongue," said Mr. Lowry,
who was plainly surprised at the ease with which the boy expressed
himself. "Go on now, and explain why you didn't give Silk Stocking up on
the night Joe and I came to your father's rancho and got fresh horses
there?"
"Because I wasn't at the rancho that night, and neither was the horse in
my possession," answered George.
"You _were_ there," exclaimed Joe, in angry tones, "and the horse was in
your possession. You had him hitched under an open shed close by the
house, and you heard us say that he had been stolen."
"I can prove that I never heard you speak that night. I couldn't, for I
was miles away attending to my herd of cattle."
Joe seemed ready to boil over with rage when he heard this, and his
companion turned white with anger. The former would at once have fallen
upon the boy with his riding-whip if he had not been restrained by Mr.
Lowry; but the latter's forced calmness was more alarming than Joe's
belligerent demonstration, for it told George, as plainly as words, that
when his anger broke forth, it would be all the more terrible from being
so long restrained.
"Do you mean to tell us that we can place no dependence upon our
senses?" demanded Mr. Lowry, while an ominous light shone in his eyes.
"No, sir; I mean to tell you that you are mistaken as to my identity. On
the night you got those fresh horses I was at Catfish Falls, watching my
cattle which had been stolen from me, as I told you."
"As you told us!" echoed Joe. "Great Moses! Are you the scamp that sent
us to Dickerman's when we wanted to go to Ackerman's?"
"Hold on, Joe!" said Mr. Lowry, extending his arm to interrupt the
riding-whip which was brandished threateningly in the air. "He can't get
out of this scrape by pretending to be somebody else. We saw him
standing on his father's porch, and he had these same clothes on, too."
"These are not my clothes."
"Whose are they then, and what are you doing in them?"
"They belong to my cousin, Ned Ackerman, who, if he has had good luck,
is safe in Brownsville by this time. He was the one who traded for Silk
Stocking, and the reason why he would not give him up, was because he
was afraid that you would lay violent hands upon him. I exchanged my
clothes for his at the time I was captured by the Greasers, and I did it
for his protection, little dreaming that I should get myself into
trouble by it. I knew that you would follow him, and that if you came up
with him you would recognise him by his dress."
"What do you mean by saying that you were captured by Greasers?" asked
Joe, whose anger seemed to have given away to astonishment.
"I mean just what I say. I have been a prisoner on the other side of the
river since last Thursday, and it was there I found Silk Stocking."
The ranchmen looked at each other for a moment, and then broke out into
loud peals of laughter. George's story was too ridiculous for belief.