WITH THE TROOPERS
With a skill and foresight which never seemed to leave them, the
leaders of the rescue expedition had selected the place for the dinner
stop with a view to its possible defense in case of emergency. This
was part and parcel of life in the west, especially when on an
expedition of this character.
In consequence there were several natural places of refuge and hiding,
behind which a fight could be conducted. And as soon as it was
ascertained that a body of horseman--hostile it seemed they must
be--were riding against them, the first thought was how best a fight
could be conducted.
"Get in the horses!" commanded Rolling Stone. "They'll shoot them off
first crack out of the box, for they'll know we're done for without our
animals."
As the rescuers had been about to move when the approaching party was
discovered, and as some of the cowboys actually had their horses in
hand, the securing of the remainder of the steeds was a work of no
great moment.
At one edge of the roughly outlined circle in which the noon camp had
been pitched, was a group of big rocks, that would make a natural
stable and hiding place for the horses. The animals were led into this
little corral, and made fast there by lariats. As much of the baggage
as possible was piled in with the horses.
This much done by Bud and his friends it was necessary to look to
themselves, for the strange horsemen were slowly but surely coming on,
and it was beyond question that they had entirely surrounded our
heroes. From all points of the compass, a thin line it is true, but
one in which there were no breaks, in came the attackers.
"We've got to form a circle ourselves," said Snake grimly. "Get down
as low as you can, boys, each one behind a rock, and with one at your
back if you can make it. They won't rush us at first. They'll try to
pick us off until they find out how many of us there are."
Quickly the others followed his advice. It was an admirable place to
defend, and other things being equal could be held by a small band
against a large body. But the factors of food and water would enter
into the fight, and though the camp was watered by a little stream,
everyone from Diamond X knew the first act of the attackers would be to
go higher up and cut off the supply of fluid. In this hot summer
season men and beasts could only last a short time without water.
Then, having seen to it that the boy ranchers and the others were in as
good a position of defense as possible, Snake Purdee picked out his own
little niche and laid out on the ground in front of him his supply of
cartridges.
Each man--and by "man" I include the boy ranchers--had a rifle and a
revolver, or, rather, automatic, each weapon using cartridges of the
same caliber. Thus only one sort of ammunition had to be packed, and
there was greater efficiency afforded.
"Get ready," called Yellin' Kid in as low a voice as he ever used.
"They've come to a stop for a talk, and they'll begin shooting soon I
reckon."
The feet of the steeds ridden by the advancing horsemen had raised a
cloud of dust which hung about them like a hazy curtain, preventing a
clear view. In fact, after the first glimpse of the riders they had
only been seen as dim figures approaching through this haze of dust.
But now, as they had stopped, as Yellin' Kid had said, the dust began
to drift away, and, for the first time our friends had a comparatively
clear view of those surrounding them.
It was Bud who first gave the good news. Looking intently at a
horseman nearest him, the boy suddenly leaped to his feet and gave a
shout that could be none other than joyous in its meaning.
"Get down, you idiot!" cried Snake. "Do you want a bullet through you?"
But the lad continued to shout and yell, waving his hat, and there was
no fusillade of shots from the ring of horsemen. Then, for the first
time Bud made himself understandable, for he shouted:
"They aren't Indians! They aren't Indians! They're United States
Troopers! Hooray! Now we've got our help!"
"Troopers?" repeated Snake, for a cloud of dust had blown about him,
greatly obscuring his vision.
"Troopers--sure!" yelled Nort, now seeing what Bud had beheld.
And a moment later it was clear to all of the surrounded band that the
horsemen were, indeed, mounted men of Uncle Sam's cavalry--a company of
lancers, a type of the armed force that has gone out of existence now,
but one which was very effective in some Indian fights.
A bugle rang out clear and sweet from somewhere in that surrounding
circle of troopers, and instantly the outer edges of the ring began
closing in. Then our friends, knowing their fright had been without
foundation, rose up from their hiding places and, standing together,
with Snake at their head as commander, waited for what was to come next.
It was not long in manifesting itself. A trooper, evidently an orderly
from a group of officers in front of our friends, rode up, waved his
hand in place of a salute when he saw he had to deal with one of his
own kind, and asked:
"Who are you and what are you doing?"
"We're from Diamond X ranch," replied Snake, "and we're on the trail of
the Yaquis who have captured some of our friends!"
"Oh, the Yaquis!" exclaimed the trooper, in evident surprise. "Why,
we're after the same bloody beggars! Glad to have met you. We seem to
be off the trail for some reason. Captain Marshal will want to speak
to you. Better come with me."
"Wait 'til I get my horse," murmured Snake, for, like all westerners,
he hated to take more than a few steps out of the saddle.
A moment later he was riding toward the officers of Uncle Sam's
troopers, while the remainder of the lancers riding in, mingled with
the small force from Diamond X.
"It's good to see you fellows!" chuckled Bud as the bronze-faced
soldiers gathered around the boy ranchers.
"We were just about to open fire on you," said one of the lancers, and
Nort and Dick noticed that in addition to the steel-tipped weapon each
trooper carried a carbine and wore a revolver in his belt. The lances
were, in reality, more for show than for actual use, though in charging
the hostile Indians the spears had served many a useful purpose.
"Glad you didn't," said Yellin' Kid. "There'd have been trouble, for
we were all primed for you," and he waved his hand toward the rocks
amid which some cowboys were just arising, picking up the ammunition
they had spread out for quick use.
"We thought you were Yaquis, and we had orders to shoot to kill,"
explained another trooper.
"And we took you for Indians--not exactly Yaquis, for they don't carry
lances," said Dick. "I'm glad it was a mistake all around."
"But say, do you fellows know anything about these dirty Mexicans who
have crossed the border?" asked a third trooper, a lieutenant from his
stripes, it would appear. "I won't call 'em Indians, though I reckon
they are, of a sort. But where are they? We got orders to take after
'em, but we can't get sight of so much as a dirty blanket."
"Well, we think we're on their trail," Bud answered, "though maybe we
are as far off as you are. Anyhow--"
But he did not complete the sentence. From the distance a single shot
rang out, and as all turned they saw, standing on the sharp horizon
line, a solitary figure, from near which arose a thin wisp of smoke.