RIDERS OF THE NIGHT
No heed was given to Nora Wingate’s faint, and for several seconds
no one spoke.
“Gosh a-mighty!” exploded Joe Bindloss.
“Judy, are you positive that your information is correct?” asked
Grace in a voice well under control.
“Ain’t positive of nothin’. Be you?”
Grace shook her head and smiled faintly.
“Mr. Bindloss, of course we shall have to go. None of us can stay
back now. Judy, will you guide us to the Red Gulch section?”
“That’s what I’m heah for, Miss Gray. I reckoned as you’d be doin’
jest that. If I had a man I’ll bet I’d hit the trail fer him when I
heard he was in a mess. How did yours ever git up to Red Gulch?”
“He followed the pigeons,” answered Grace.
“A-huh!”
Joe Bindloss, at this juncture, announced his intention of
accompanying the Overlanders into the mountains. He did not know
where Red Gulch was, but if Judy said she knew, that settled it. The
girls brightened at his suggestion, and Nora sat up pale and
trembling, asking what had happened.
She was told that she had fainted. Grace turned to Judy and asked if
they were to start at once, but the mountain girl shook her head.
“We got to wait till night and make a night ride,” she said. “Pap
Bindloss knows why.”
“Oh, I can’t wait!” wailed Nora.
“Judy is right,” spoke up the ranchman. “Besides, we have some
things to do here. I can’t spare any men from the range, so we shall
have to do the work ourselves. We must break your camp and store
your equipment, for the rustlers will discover, after we leave here,
that the ranch is unguarded and come down on it. Understand?”
Grace nodded. Judy tethered her pony and announced that she would
assist them, and the work of striking the Overland camp began. The
equipment was packed for moving, but instead of being lashed to the
backs of mustangs, Joe Bindloss carted it to the ranch-house on his
buckboard. The work took a good part of the afternoon, following
which the rancher rode out to his nearest grazing grounds where he
acquainted one of his foremen with the situation.
Judy Hornby not only did her share of the work, but kept up the
spirits of her companions with quaint sayings and sharp-witted
replies to questions.
Food sufficient for their needs was packed, and by supper time all
was in readiness for the start. Before leaving, the mountain girl
and the rancher held a brief consultation, at which she told him of
her plan. Bindloss agreed to it. Up to this time Judy had given her
friends no further information as to the source of the news that had
come to her, though occasional attempts had been made by Grace and
Elfreda to draw it from her.
The start was made shortly after dark, the riders setting out in
pairs at some little distance apart. Judy kept to the base of the
foothills where the mountains cast a heavy shadow so that the
movements of the party could not be seen from the valley in the
light of the new moon. Instead of riding directly into the hills,
the mountain girl rode parallel with them for fully five miles.
Grace asked her why she did this instead of taking the direct line
that had been followed by the carrier pigeons.
“Mebby that trail is watched,” answered Judy. “We got to go ’round
and come up by a longer way. You folks leave that to me. I ain’t
sayin’ that we ain’t goin’ to be caught, but if we are we got rifles
and I knows how to use mine.”
“So do we,” returned Grace. “I hope it may not be necessary,
though.”
Finally a sharp turn into the mountains was made, and for a mile or
two Judy followed a gash in the hills.
“We got to climb now,” finally announced their guide, and it proved
to be a real climb. A brief halt was made to rest the animals, after
which the journey was resumed. The going from there on was over
rough ground, and it was a marvel to the Overland Riders how Judy
Hornby picked her way in the darkness and kept in the right
direction.
As a matter of fact Judy was using the stars for her guide, which
enabled her to follow the general direction in which she wanted to
go.
Another halt was made at midnight. The girls were shivering, and
Emma asked if they could not build a fire and warm up.
“No! You’ll git warmed up before you git through with this,”
answered Judy. “Might git warm most any time now.”
No halt was made from that time until just at break of day. Then
Judy left the party for half an hour to take an observation. She
returned briskly and announced that they could make a small fire and
have coffee, but she built the fire herself, being careful not to
make enough smoke to attract attention.
“Folks, we aire within a mile of the Red Gulch, and I reckon you
better keep your eyes open from now on. I’ll ride on ahead, so watch
me. Pap Bindloss, you watch the sides and the trail behind. Nobody
do any loud talkin’,” advised Judy, after they had warmed their
hands by the little cook-fire, and drunk their hot coffee. All
mounted and rode away much refreshed, and with a gentle glow now
suffusing their bodies.
The Overlanders now observed that Judy had unlimbered her rifle, so
they did the same, carrying their weapons resting across their
saddles, gun butts to the right. Judy wound in and out among the
rocks and trees, sometimes being out of sight for a moment or two,
then coming into view again, until finally she held up her hand and
sat listening. The others halted near where her pony stood nibbling
at the green leaves within its reach.
“You all stay right heah. I’m going on to scout ’round a little.
Pap, you stay with the girls.” Judy tossed her bridle-rein to him
and slid from her saddle, taking her rifle with her. She was out of
sight in a few moments, and the Overland Riders sat in uneasy
silence straining their ears for warning sounds.
When Judy returned her face wore a perplexed expression.
“Folks, they ain’t there.”
“Aren’t where?” asked Miss Briggs.
“Whar they was supposed to be. I got a good look at the cabin, but
couldn’t see nobody, an’ couldn’t find any ponies anywhar ’bout,
though I see whar they’d been tethered. Would you folks know the
tracks of yer horses?”
Grace said she did not think they would, not having had these
animals long enough to be familiar with them.
“I can pick ’em out,” volunteered Bindloss.
“Good! Come with me. You folks kin ride up so you kin see the place
whar the cabin is an’—”
“What cabin?” questioned Emma.
“One of the places whar the rustlers hang out, an’ whar I reckons
that battle was fought. But you got to keep quiet.”
Bindloss dismounted and followed the girl, leaving the Overlanders
alone and very much worried. The couple were gone for some time;
then the Riders saw them returning, the rancher striding rapidly
along, Judy following him thoughtfully.
“They’ve gone, folks!” he announced. “Neither hide nor hair of them
left. I got into the cabin, and there was bullet holes, fresh ones,
showing that there had been some shooting there. I reckon there was
blood on the floor. It looked like it.”
“Anything else?” asked Grace, regarding him keenly.
“Nothing like what you mean,” answered Bindloss understandingly. “I
found the tracks of my ponies, and we ain’t far from their trail
right this minute. It looks to me as if your party has headed for
home, and Judy agrees with me. There was five ponies in that bunch
and they was all mine. That looks mighty queer to me.”
“Is it not possible that it was not our friends who were riding the
animals?” asked Miss Briggs.
“I reckon so,” returned the rancher absently. “However, there’s only
one thing for us to do, and that is to follow the tracks and watch
out.”
While he was speaking, Judy had started off on foot. She was gone
for some time. Upon her return she announced that she had picked up
the trail, and mounting, she directed her companions to fall in
behind her. Bindloss rode a little to one side of the mountain girl,
and in a few minutes she pointed out the trail to him. He got down
to examine it, and said the faint hoof-prints were those of ponies
from his corral.
From that time on fairly rapid progress was made, until the trail
grew more difficult to follow. There were straggling cedars about
them and on beyond a forest of pines that formed a great green
canopy. The season had been dry and the long mountain grass under
the sun’s rays had burned to a dull brown, but the grass was tough
and traveling through it made it necessary for the ponies to lift
their feet high, giving a jolting effect to the riders that was
extremely trying.
Bindloss suddenly halted.
“I hear shooting!” he exclaimed.
“So do I,” agreed Grace.
The reports sounded far away, but Bindloss and Judy knew that the
firing was not so far away as the Overlanders believed.
“Do you know where you are—do you know the mountains here?” asked
the rancher.
Judy shook her head and said she had never been so far into the
mountain country before, but that she had a general idea of where
they were. Suddenly she wheeled her pony and started away towards
the scene of the firing, as well as she was able to locate it. The
others followed, each with straining ears and tingling nerves. They
were soon rewarded by the realization that they were rapidly
approaching the gunfire. Bindloss halted them with a gesture, and
sat listening. The party was only now at the edge of the pine forest
along which they had been skirting, but there were pines to the
right and left of them, beautiful, fragrant pines, nodding to the
stiff mountain breeze that was blowing. The wind died down, then
sprang up again from a different direction.
Judy’s mustang whirled, threw up its head and snorted, and the pony
ridden by the rancher began to buck under the restraining grip on
the bridle-rein and sundry jabs from the spur, while the mounts of
the Overlanders showed signs of panic.
A moment more and every mustang in the party was sniffing the air
and snorting. Bindloss, leaning forward in his saddle, gazing back
over the ground that they had covered, saw that a curtain of bluish
shade had been drawn over their late trail. The curtain was
quivering, punctuated here and there by faint spurts of red.
Judy Hornby’s mustang uttered a whistling blast of fear, and reared
on its hind legs.
“Fire!” cried the mountain girl. “They’ve set the grass on fire!”
“Ride!” yelled Joe Bindloss. “It’s coming fast!”