THE LINE HOUSE RE-CAPTURED
After Chick, Dan Morgan, and Ed Joyce had commandeered Antonio's horse
and left him on foot they rode as rapidly as they could to the corrals
of their ranch, where they saddled fresh mounts and galloped back to
try conclusions with the men who had humbled them. They also wished to
find their foreman, who they knew was somewhere along the line. Chick
rode to the west, Dan to the east, and Ed Joyce straight ahead;
intending to search for Meeker and then ride together again.
Meanwhile Antonio, tired of walking, returned to the line and lay in
ambush to waylay the first Bar-20 puncher to ride past him, hoping to
get a horse and also to leave a dead man for the Bar-20 to find and
lay the blame on the H2. He knew that his rustler allies had scouts in
the chaparrals and were ready to run off a big herd as soon as
conditions were propitious, and he was anxious to give them the word
to begin.
It chanced, however, that Ed Joyce was the first man to approach the
Mexican, and he paid dearly for being a party to taking Antonio's
horse. The dead man would not inflame the Bar-20, but the H2, and the
results would be the same in the end. Mounting Ed's horse Antonio
galloped north into the valley through West Arroyo so as to leave
tracks in the direction of the Bar-20, intending to describe a
semi-circle and return to his ranch by way of the river trail, leaving
the horse where the trail crossed the Jumping Bear. By going the
remainder of the way on foot he would not be seen on the horse of the
murdered puncher, which might naturally enough stray in that
direction, and so be free from suspicion.
Lanky Smith, wondering why none of his friends had passed him on the
line, followed the trail west to see if things were as they should be.
He was almost in sight of a point opposite West Arroyo, his view being
obstructed by chaparrals, when he heard a faint shot, and spurred
forward, his rifle in the hollow of his arm ready for action. It could
mean only one thing--one of his friends was shooting H2 cows, and
complications might easily follow. When he had turned out of an arroyo
which made part of the line for a short distance he saw a body huddled
on the sand several hundred feet ahead of him. At that instant Meeker,
with Chick and Dan close at his heels, came into view on the other
side, saw the body and, drawing their own conclusions, opened a hot
fire on the Bar-20 puncher, riding to encircle him. Surprised for an
instant, and then filled with rage because they had killed one of his
friends, as he thought, he returned their fire and raced at Chick, who
was now some distance from his companions. Dan and Meeker wheeled
instantly and rode to the aid of their friend, and Lanky's horse
dropped from under him. Luckily for him he felt a warning tremor go
through the animal and jerked his feet free from the stirrups as it
sank down, quickly crawling behind it for protection.
Immediately thereafter Chick lost his hat, then the use of his right
arm, followed by being deprived of the services of a very good
cow-pony, for Lanky now had a rest for his rifle and while his
marksmanship was not equal to that of his friend Red, it was good
enough for his present needs. Dan Morgan started to shout to his
foreman and then swore luridly instead, for Lanky was pleased to drill
him at five hundred yards, the bullet tearing a disconcerting hole in
Dan's thigh.
Meeker had been most zealously engaged all this time in making his
rifle go off at regular intervals, his bullets kicking up the dust,
humming viciously about Lanky's head, and thudding into the carcass of
the dead horse. Then Lanky swore and shook the blood from his cheek,
telling Meeker what he thought about the matter. Settling down again
he determined to husk Meeker's body from its immortal soul, when he
found his magazine empty. Reaching to his belt for the wherewithal for
the husking he discovered the lamentable fact that he had only three
cartridges left for the Winchester, and the Colt was more ornamental
than useful at that range. To make matters worse both Chick and Dan
were now sitting up wasting cartridges in his direction, while Meeker
seemed to have an unending supply. Just then the H2 foreman found his
mark again and rendered his enemy's arm useless. At that point the
clouds of misfortune parted and Hopalong, Red and Johnny at his heels,
whirled into sight from the west, firing with burning zeal.
Meeker's horse went down, pinning its rider under it; Dan Morgan threw
up his arms as he sat in the saddle, for his rifle was shattered;
Chick, popping up his good arm first, arose from behind his fleshy
breastwork and announced that he could not fight, although he
certainly wanted to; but Meeker said nothing.
Riding first to Lanky, his friends joked him into a better humor while
they attended to his wounds. Then they divided to extend the
wound-dressing courtesy. First they tried to kill a man, then to save
him; but, of course, they desired mostly to render him incapable of
injuring them and as long as this was accomplished it was not
necessary to deprive him of life.
Hopalong, being in command, went over to look at the H2 foreman and
found him unconscious. Dragging him from under the body of his horse
Hopalong felt along the pinned leg and found it was not broken.
Pouring a generous amount of whiskey down the unconscious man's throat
he managed to revive him and then immediately disarmed him. Meeker
complained of pains in his groin, not by words but by actions. His
left leg seemed paralyzed and would not obey him. Hopalong called Red,
who took the injured man up in front of him, where Hopalong bound his
hands to the pommel of the saddle.
Meeker preserved a stolid silence until Lanky joined them and then his
rage poured out in a torrent of abuse and accusations for the killing
of Ed Joyce. Lanky retorted by asking who Ed Joyce was, and wanted to
know whose body he had found just before Meeker had come onto the
scene. When he found that they were the same he explained that he had
not seen it before Meeker had, which the H2 foreman would not believe.
Red captured Dan Morgan's horse and led it up. After Chick and Dan had
been helped to mount the Bar-20 men's horses, placed before the
saddles and bound there, all started towards Lookout Peak, Lanky
riding Dan's horse.
When they had arrived at their destination Meeker suddenly realized
what he was to be used for and stormed impotently against it. He heard
the intermittent firing around the plateau and knew that Doc and Jack
still held the house, and believed they could continue to hold it,
since the thick adobe walls were impenetrable to rifle fire.
"Well, Meeker, it's you for th' house," Hopalong remarked after he had
sent Red to stop the fire of the others. "You got off d----d lucky
to-day; th' next time you raise the dickens along our line we'll pay
yore ranch houses a visit in a body an' give you something to think
about. We handled you to-day with six of us up north, an' what th'
whole crowd can do you can guess. Now walk up there an' tell them
range-jumpers to vamoose th' house!"
"They'll shoot me before they sees who I am," Meeker retorted,
sullenly. "If yo're so anxious to get 'em out, do it yoreself--I don't
want 'em."
By this time the others were coming up and heard Meeker's words, and
Hopalong, turning to Skinny and Billy, curtly ordered them to mount.
"Take this royal American fool up to th' bunk house to Buck. Tell Buck
what's took place down here, an' also that we're going to shoot h--l
out of th' fellers in th' house before he sees us. After that those of
us who can ride are going down to th' H2 an' clean up that part of th'
game, buildings an' all. Go on, lively! Red, Johnny, Pete; cover th'
windows an' fill that shack plumb full of lead. It's clouding up now
an' when it gets good an' dark we'll bust in th' door an' end it.
Skinny, you come back again, quick, with all th' grub an' cartridges
you can carry. Meeker started this, but _I'm_ going to finish it an'
do it right. There won't be no more line fights down here for a long
time to come."
"I reckon I'll have to order 'em out," Meeker growled. "What'll you do
to 'em if I do?"
"Send 'em home so quick they won't have any time to say 'good-bye,'"
Hopalong rejoined. "We've seen too much of you fellers now. An' after
I send 'em home you see that they stays away from that line--we'll
shoot on sight if they gets within gunshot of it! You've shore had a
gall, pushing us, you an' yore hatful of men an' cows! If it wasn't
for th' rustling we'd 'a pushed you into th' discard th' day I found
yore Greaser herding on us."
Meeker, holding his side because of the pain there from the fall,
limped slowly up the hill, waving his sombrero over his head as he
advanced.
"What do you want now?--_Meeker!_" cried a voice from the building.
"What's wrong?"
"Everything; come on out--we lose," the foreman cried, shame in his
voice.
"Don't you tell us that if you wants us to stay here," came the swift
reply. "We're game as long as we last, an' we'll last a long time,
too."
"I know it, Doc--" his voice broke--"they've killed Ed an' captured
Chick, Dan, an' me. I'd say fight it out, an' I'd fight to th' end,
only they'll attack th' ranch house if we do. We're licked, _this
time!_"
"First sensible words you've said since you've been on this range,"
growled Lanky. "You was licked before you began, if you only knowed
it. An' you'll get licked _every_ time, too!"
"Well, we'll come out an' give up if they'll let us all go, including
you," cried Doc. "I ain't going to get picked off in th' open while
I've got this shack to fight in, not by a blamed sight!"
"It's all right, Doc," Meeker replied. "How's Jack?" he asked,
anxiously, not having heard Doc's companion speak.
"Wait an' see," was the reply, and the door opened and the two
defenders stepped into sight, bandaged with strips torn from their
woollen shirts, the remains of which they did not bother to carry
away.
"Who played that gun through th' west window?" asked Doc, angrily.
"Me!" cried Skinny, belligerently. "Why?"
"Muzzle th' talk--you can hold yore pow-wow some other time,"
interposed Hopalong. "You fellers get off this range, an' do it quick.
An' stay off, savvy?"
Meeker, his face flushed by rage and hatred for the men who had so
humiliated him, climbed up on Dan's horse and Dan was helped up
behind. Then Chick was helped to mount in front of his foreman and
they rode down the hill, followed by Doc and Jack. The intention was
to let Dan ride to the ranch after they had all got off the Bar-20
range, and send up the cook with spare horses. Just then Doc
remembered that he and Jack had left their mounts below when they
walked up the hill to take the house, and they went after them.
At this instant Curley was seen galloping up and he soon reported what
Salem had seen. Meeker flew into a rage at this and swore that he
would never give in to either foe. While Curley was learning of the
fighting, Doc and his companion returned on foot, reporting that their
horses had strayed, whereupon Meeker got off the horse he rode and
told Doc and Chick to ride it home, Curley being despatched for
mounts, while the others sat down on the ground and waited.
When Curley returned with the horses he was very much excited, crying
that during his absence Salem had seen six men run off a herd of
several hundred head towards Eagle and had tried to overtake them in
the chuck wagon.
"God A'mighty!" cried Meeker, furiously. "Ain't I got enough, _now_!
Rustling, an' on a scale like that! Peters was right after all about
th' rustling, d--n him. A whole herd! Why didn't they take th' rest,
an' th' houses, an' th' whole ranch? An' Salem, th' fool, chasing 'em
in th' chuck wagon! Wonder they didn't take him, too."
"I reckon he wished he had his harpoon with him," Chick snorted, the
ridiculousness of Salem's action bringing a faint grin to his face,
angry and wounded as he was. "He's the locoedest thing that wears
pants in this section, or any other!"
"It was a shore fizzle all around," Meeker grumbled. "But I ain't
through with that line yet--no, by th' Lord, I ain't got started yet!
But this rustling has got to be cleaned up first of all--th' line can
wait; an' if we don't pay no attention to th' valley for a while
they'll think we've given it up an' get off their guard."
"Shore!" cried Dan, whose fury had been aroused almost to madness by
the sting of the bitter defeat, and who itched to kill, whether
puncher or rustler it little mattered; he only wanted a vent for his
rage.
"We'll parade over that south range like buzzards sighting carrion,"
Meeker continued, leading the way homeward. "I ain't a-going to get
robbed all th' time!"
"Wonder if Smith did shoot Ed?" queried Dan, thoughtfully. "There was
quite a spell between th' shot I heard an' us seeing him, an' he acted
like he had just seen Ed. But it's tough, all right. Ed was a blamed
good feller."
"Who did shoot him, then?" snapped Meeker, savagely. "There's no
telling what happened out there before we got there. Here, Curley, you
ain't full of holes like us--you ride up there an' get him while we go
home. He's laying near that S arroyo right close to th' line--th' one
we scouted through that time."
"Shore, I'll get him," replied Curley, wheeling. "See you later."