HIPPY DEFENDS THE RANCH
Lieutenant Wingate after a refreshing afternoon’s sleep had remained
up long enough to brew tea and fry bacon and eggs for himself. It
was dusk when he finished his supper.
“I ought to wash the dishes, I suppose, but I think I’ll let the
girls do that. There is some satisfaction in being a convalescent,”
he decided, grinning at his own humor. “Queer thing about
convalescence—when you get through with your sleep you are ready
for another. Ho, hum!”
Hippy, with the aid of a cane, hobbled out to the porch that fronted
the valley and sat down on his cot, then lay back breathing in the
soft breezes from mountain and plain.
“This is the life,” he muttered, sinking into a half doze.
All at once the Overland Rider pulled himself into keen wakefulness.
He was positive that he heard horses approaching, but they seemed to
be a long way off. His first thought was that either the Overlanders
or some of the cowboys were on their way home, but with the caution
born of experience, he decided to lie quietly and wait.
The hoof-beats ceased, so far as he was able to hear, and silence
settled over the valley, broken now and then by the howl of a hungry
coyote. Somehow this sudden silence got on the nerves of Lieutenant
Hippy Wingate, and getting up he hobbled into the ranch-house and
strapped on his revolver holster. Bethinking himself of Bindloss’s
rifle he got that, examined the chambers and, as he expected, found
it fully loaded.
“Now we are all set,” he muttered. He had reached the ranch-house
door when he halted sharply and gazed into the night over which the
stars shed a faint light, making objects within the range of his
vision stand out in unreal and fantastic shapes. Hippy, however, did
see something moving, something that was quite real. This something
was a man, and as he gazed other figures were discovered.
“I wonder if that’s some of the boys?” he muttered. Upon second
thought he decided that the cowpunchers would not be moving about so
quietly. Three appeared to have come from the direction of the
Overland camp at the rear of the ranch-house, and Hippy then knew
that all was not well at the Circle O ranch. He stepped back, softly
closed and bolted the door, and took his place at a window that had
been pulled down from the top. From that vantage point he watched
with straining eyes.
The men appeared to be investigating, undoubtedly for the purpose of
learning whether or not there were anyone about the place. One
finally turned his attention to the ranch-house, first cautiously
trying the door, then peering in through the window. Hippy had
stepped aside as the man approached him, and a few seconds later he
saw a face pressed against the pane.
After a moment of peering, the fellow carefully raised both windows
from the bottom and thrust his head in.
Hippy pressed his body against the wall and grasped his revolver by
the barrel. The fellow’s shoulders were thrust in and the watcher
saw that he was about to climb in.
Lieutenant Hippy Wingate took instant advantage of the opportunity
and brought the butt of his revolver down with full force on the
intruder’s head. The whack was so loud that the Overlander thought
the others must hear, and, without an instant’s hesitation, he
grabbed and dragged the unconscious man into the room.
“I hope I haven’t killed the ruffian!” A hand placed over the man’s
heart told Hippy that he had not. Hippy, knowing that there was a
lasso hanging in Bindloss’s room, in fact that there were several
there, hobbled in, and fetching the rope, hog-tied the man, after
which he put a handkerchief gag in the fellow’s mouth.
“Good! This is like taking candy from babies,” he chuckled, going
over to the window and replacing it as it was before. This enabled
him to stand up and look out, and also gave him free range in case
he found it necessary to use his weapons. Bethinking himself of
other windows, Hippy made a circuit of the lower floor and closed
and locked them. For a man to get in now would necessitate breaking
a window, which he surely would hear.
The watcher had no more than returned to his open window than he
suddenly ducked to one side, for he discovered that a second man was
about to peer in. Unlike the first caller this man walked away and
went around to the rear of the house, but he was back in a few
moments, this time accompanied by a companion. They were whispering,
and at this instant the man on the floor gave a kick with his heel
that stopped the whispering instantly.
Lieutenant Wingate went over to the bound man.
“Do that again and I’ll settle you!” he hissed with all the
savageness that he could put into his tone. “I mean what I say!”
Returning to the window he stood to one side watching the two men
who were again holding a whispered conversation, pausing now and
then to listen attentively. After a few moments of this, one raised
the window an inch or so at a time and looked in. In the darkness
they saw nothing.
“I reckon it’s all right. I’ll go in an’ ye foller me,” said one in
a low, guarded tone of voice, whereupon he began crawling in. As he
landed on his hands on the floor, Lieutenant Wingate hit him a
terrific wallop on the head with the butt of his revolver, then made
a swift pass with it at the head of the other man whose head was
just inside the window.
It hit the fellow a glancing blow, and jerking his head from the
window he fell over backwards, then staggering to his feet he ran,
uttering a warning cry.
The time for secrecy, so far as Lieutenant Hippy Wingate was
concerned, had passed. He sent a bullet from his revolver after the
man and then discovering other prowlers trying to get into the
corral, he snatched up the rifle, and fired at the ground just
behind them.
The prowlers scattered in record time and a volley of shots pinged
into the ranch-house in reply.
The Overland Rider now hastily turned his attention to his second
victim, and in a few minutes he had the man bound and dragged to the
other side of the room at a distance from the first prisoner.
“Confound the ruffians! Why couldn’t they have come singly?” he
growled. “I could have caught the whole bunch. I reckon maybe there
will be something doing in a few moments.”
There was. A rifle crashed out, then another, and a snapping fire
was directed at the Circle O ranch-house, with Hippy lying flat on
the floor waiting for the shooting to stop. It soon did, whereupon
the Overlander crept to the window and peered out. Not a human being
was in sight, but the watcher was too old a hand at campaigning to
believe that the prowlers had gone away. He reasoned, too, that by
making no return of their fire, they might believe that they had hit
him. As he had surmised would be the case, a man appeared after a
time just beyond the corral. The fellow darted across and
disappeared behind the stable where saddles and other equipment were
stored.
The man’s next appearance was a few moments later when he walked to
the corral, looked in and strolled back to the protection of the
stable. Others then appeared, at first exercising the utmost
caution, but little by little showing that they believed danger to
them had passed.
Hippy Wingate chuckled. His ruse had succeeded, but he knew the end
was not yet. At the same time he was groping for the reason for the
presence of these prowlers. From their actions he believed that they
were trying to steal the ponies, and a moment later he saw them
again at work trying to break the locked gate of the corral. They
were battering away at it so boldly that he knew they now feared no
interruption.
“I’ve got to take a chance,” muttered the Overland Rider, “but I’ll
shoot low. Perhaps I won’t hit any of the stock.”
There was no time to lose, for in a few moments those sledge-hammer
blows, that were probably delivered with a maul or an axe, must
produce results.
Taking as careful aim as he could in the uncertain light, he pulled
the trigger and Old Joe Bindloss’s rifle roared.
A yell greeted the shot, by which sign Lieutenant Wingate knew that
the bullet had found a mark. He fired again, but this time there was
no answering yell. Two men grabbed up one of their number, the party
started on a run for the stable and Hippy deliberately fired right
into the group. One man staggered and fell. He was quickly dragged
away, but not before the Overland Rider had emptied his rifle at
them, though, so far as he was able to discover, without results.
Accurate shooting was impossible under the conditions.
The rancher’s rifle was now empty, nor did Lieutenant Wingate know
where to find more ammunition. He possessed his revolver and a belt
of cartridges which would keep him going for some time, provided he
were conservative in their use, so the rifle was laid aside and the
revolver took its place. A quick examination of the two captives
informed him that both were conscious.
“You fellows! Don’t you make a sound or I’ll use the business end of
my gun on you,” he warned.
Rifle bullets at this juncture again began ripping through the side
of the house, and while they were still crunching about the room
with a chilling sound the Overlander, who was on the floor, heard a
powerful blow delivered on the door. It was followed by other blows.
The ruffians were trying to beat the door down, and already a panel
had been shattered.
Hippy hopped to his feet and placed himself before the door, feeling
reasonably safe there so long as men were standing in front of it.
Thrusting the muzzle of his weapon close to the shattered panel he
pulled the trigger, and a howl of rage answered it. This shot had
not missed.
Before giving the attackers a chance to do further damage Hippy
fired the remaining chambers of his revolver through the door in
quick succession. He did not know whether or not he had made a hit,
but he knew that, for the moment, he had effectively checked
operations out there.
A few seconds were lost in reloading, during which not a sound
reached him from the outside. Stooping over, he peered through the
shattered panel. As he did so there came a sudden burst of rifle
fire and a dozen bullets ripped through the door.
Lieutenant Wingate straightened up, staggered, clapped a hand to his
head, half turned and crashed full length to the floor. As he lay
there, bullets continued to thud through the door and the siding of
the ranch-house, then ceased as suddenly as they had begun, but
Hippy, some moments since, had ceased to hear or know.