AT THE LAST MOMENT
“Smoke him out!” came the sharp command after the firing had died
down. “That’ll fetch the critter. Then git him.”
Some dead grass, a handful of chips and a match did the work, and a
flickering blaze was soon started under one corner of the
ranch-house.
“Now the hosses!” commanded the same voice. “Two of ye git behind
the house to watch for him, the others go fer the mustangs in the
corral.”
The men ran to obey the orders of their leader, when a sudden shout
from one of them changed the plans of the attackers entirely. It was
a shout of warning. Following it the ruffians plainly heard the
sound of hoof-beats approaching—many of them. They were coming at
what the trained ears of the mountain ruffians told them was a
killing pace.
“Hit the trail!” yelled the leader. “Go south and scatter! Hit it
hard!” came the further orders.
The ruffians were in their saddles within a minute thereafter, some
of them carrying wounded companions who had got in the way of Hippy
Wingate’s bullets, and they were around the corner of the corral in
a twinkling. Once in the shadow of it they faded away into the
night, just as Two-gun Pete and his companions flashed in with guns
ready for instant use.
“Quick! Fire!” shouted Idaho.
“Git water!” yelled Two-gun Pete, leaping from his mustang.
Old Joe Bindloss came up as the cowpunchers were dashing water on
the flames that were now licking at the side of the building. He
instantly threw himself from his pony and grabbing a pail began
carrying water and giving orders at the same time. The blaze was
extinguished in a few minutes. The Overland Riders came up at this
juncture.
“Gosh a-mighty, what’s been going on here?” bellowed the rancher.
“Look at that door! Clean busted in.”
The boys quickly brought lanterns from the stable, and by their
light discovered the bullet holes in door and siding. Windows, too,
were shot out at the front of the house.
“Thar’s been a fight heah!” decided Pete.
“Hippy!” wailed Nora, almost collapsing as her pony stopped.
“We’ll find out about thet, Missie,” answered Pete. “Hey, Dude! Be
you thar?” he shouted.
There was no reply, and the Overlanders ran for the house, each one
fearing the worst.
“Back! I reckon I’ll go in first!” bellowed Bindloss. “It’s my
house, and I reckon it’s up to me to go in ahead. Boys, get behind
me with the lights so they don’t get in my eyes. You Overlanders
keep out of range in case there should be some scrapping. No telling
what we might meet in there.” Bindloss with drawn weapon, Two-gun
Pete at his side, strode up and kicked in the remnants of the front
door of his home. As the door went down both men leaped lightly to
one side, fearing an ambush.
A dead silence followed.
“Lights here!” commanded Bindloss, stepping in with revolver thrust
before him.
Nothing happening, cowpunchers and Overlanders crowded in. They
found the old rancher standing with a dazed expression on his face.
“Gosh a-mighty!” he muttered over and over. “What’s happened?”
It was then that the Overlanders discovered the two bound men, and
then Hippy at some little distance from them, stretched out on his
face, one hand still grasping his revolver.
“Hippy!” It was a wailing cry from Nora as she threw herself down
beside him. “He’s dead! He’s dead! They’ve killed him!” Nora threw
both arms about her husband and tried to turn him over, but he was a
dead weight and she failed.
Tom did it for her, the cowpunchers during all this time standing
with gaping mouths as dazed as was their employer.
Grace and Elfreda were at Hippy’s side in an instant, and it was
Elfreda who discovered that he was not dead.
“Light here, please,” requested Miss Briggs in a tone so calm that
it steadied the others of the party. “Look at this, will you?” she
added. “A bullet has ripped the bandage from his head, and torn open
the stitches that I put in Hippy’s scalp.”
“Wounded in exactly the same place!” murmured Grace. “How strange!”
“What ’bout these cayuses, Boss?” demanded Two-gun Pete, fixing a
malignant gaze on the two helpless ruffians who were looking from
one to the other of the party with anxiety in their eyes. “Shall I
make a good job of it an’ sarve ’em the same way somebody has sarved
the Dude?”
“Shut up! They’ll keep. This man gets first attention. Is he bad
off, Miss?” questioned Bindloss.
“I can’t say,” answered Elfreda. “If I knew how long he has been in
this condition I might make a better guess.”
Pete released the gun from Hippy’s hand, felt of the barrel, smelled
of the muzzle, then looked into the cylinder to see how many shots
had been fired from it.
“Ain’t been this way more’n ten or fifteen minutes, I reckon. Gun’s
warm yit.”
“Then it may be only concussion of the brain, but I shan’t be able
to tell definitely for some little time. Some one run to camp and
get bandages. Tom, will you please go? Fetch my case along.”
Elfreda called for water and by the time Tom returned had bathed the
wound, the same wound reopened, though the scalp on either side of
it was lacerated somewhat more than before. Restoratives were
administered by Grace, while Elfreda was dressing and re-sewing the
wound, she believing it best to do this before the patient recovered
consciousness. Grace was not so successful, and at Bindloss’s orders
the cowpunchers picked up the wounded Overlander and carried him to
his bed at the back of the house.
“Take the gags out of them fellers’ mouths. I reckon they’ll have
something to say,” drawled Bindloss in the cool tone that his men
knew from experience was a mask for a raging passion beneath it.
The gags were none too gently removed, the captives’ weapons were
jerked from their belts, smelled of and examined and found not to
have been fired that evening. This was evidenced by the fact that
the cylinders were fully loaded, that the barrels were cold, and
that there was no odor of burnt powder to be detected at the
muzzles.
“Stand ’em up against the wall and let’s have a look at ’em!”
commanded the rancher, and after this had been done, and one of the
cowboys had held a lantern up to their faces, Bindloss squinted at
them frowningly. “Any of you fellows know these critters?”
Each cowpuncher stepped up and took a long, stern look at the faces
and shook his head.
“I reckon you two bit off more’n you could chew, eh? Who are ye?”
demanded Bindloss.
The captives, now sullen-faced, made no reply.
“What happened that you two are hog-tied in my house?”
“Ain’t no use fer to ask questions ’cause you ain’t goin’ to git no
answers,” growled one.
“I’ll tell ye what happened,” spoke up the other captive. “We was
ridin’ by, an knowin’ thet you-all was down the range, seen
somethin’ was goin’ on in heah an’ we jest come up to look in, an’
got a crack on the haid. Thet’s all.”
“You’re a liar!” blazed Joe Bindloss, drawing back a clenched fist
as if to strike the man, but the fist slowly relaxed and his face
grew calm again. “You’ll talk before I git done with you, I promise
you that. When the man in there wakes up, if he ever does, I’ll hear
the truth. If he dies I’ll shoot every man in these ranges if I have
to do so to git the right ones, and I’ll begin with you, you
sneaking coyotes! Take ’em out and tie ’em in the barn. And, boys,
fix ’em so they can’t get away. If there’s any rough stuff to be
pulled off, I’ll do the pulling. Understand?”
The cowpunchers nodded and picked up the prisoners. When outside the
door the man at the head of each prisoner dropped his burden and the
cowboy at the foot dragged his captive by the feet all the way to
the stable. Sam Conifer followed and stood gazing at the prisoners
as the cowmen were re-tying them. He was positive that he had seen
one of the ruffians before, but could not place him.
While this was going on, Jim, who had procured a lantern and browsed
about the ranch, returned to the house. Bindloss was in the room
with Lieutenant Wingate at the moment, watching the Overland girls
work over him. Hearing Jim enter, he stepped out.
“Oh! It’s you, is it?”
“Yes. Boss, I been lookin’ ’round heah a little an’ I’ve diskivered
some things. Thar was seven men in that party. They went up to our
camp fust, but didn’t take nothin’. Then they come down heah an’
tried to git in the corral. Thar’s some bullet holes in the posts
thar, which I reckon was made by Lieutenant Wingate’s rifle. Thar’s
a rifle on the floor thar. Whose is that?”
“Mine,” exclaimed the rancher, picking up the weapon and examining
it. “The magazine is empty—fired off this evening.”
“Jest so. Some of them bullets is in the stable now, an’ some more
of ’em hit them rough-necks, mebby killed ’em, I can’t say.
Leastwise they left some blood where two of ’em lay until they was
carried away on hosses. Thar’s tracks, too, that lead right up to
that winder thar.”
“Good work,” complimented Bindloss. “What beats me, though, is how
two of them happened to be tied down in the house.”
“Three of ’em I trailed up to the winder. One of ’em went away in a
hurry, but t’other two didn’t. I reckon mebby they aire the two
fellers that ye found heah. The party went south after they heard ye
comin’. I reckon that’s what started ’em away. I reckon they was
tryin’ to steal yer mustangs when Lieutenant Wingate put er crimp in
their little picnic. Eh, Boss?”
“I reckon you’re right, Jim. He must have fought them single-handed
and when they were getting the worst of it they tried to set fire to
the ranch-house. I reckon we got here just in time.”
“Yep. Things do work out queer-like sometimes,” agreed the old
guide. “Somebody’s comin’! They’re in a hurry, too,” he warned.
A horse came to a sliding stop just outside of the ranch-house. A
rapid exchange of words followed between the rider and the cowboys,
then a dust-covered, breathless cowboy clanked in.
“Gosh a-mighty! What’s broke loose now?” demanded the rancher.
“Don’t tell me something else has happened. Speak up! Are you
tongue-tied?”
“The herd, Pop’s herd, has jest been stampeded an’ scattered into
the foothills, and Pop’s been shot. The fellers thet stampeded the
herd give him his’n. They aire bringin’ him in now,” answered the
rider excitedly.
Bindloss snatched up his rifle and bolted from the door. His
cowpunchers already were in their saddles.
“Grace, if I am not needed here, I’ll go, too,” urged Tom.
“Yes, do,” answered Grace Harlowe. “Tell Jim-Sam to stay. Be
careful, Tom.”
“Safety first,” called back the Overland Rider as he dashed out
after the rancher. “Jim-Sam, I hold you responsible for the safety
of this place while we are away.”
“Come on if you’re going with me,” shouted Bindloss.
“I’m with you,” answered Tom, and in an incredibly short time the
party was thundering down the valley.