CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE SOUND OF A PISTOL
JUST as night was closing in, an occurrence took place which caused our friends more alarm than anything during the day.
Their position was almost due east of the adobe building, which it will be remembered was about a mile distant. The Apaches, who had been circling about on their ponies in an aimless way, drew nearer the building, until in the gathering gloom they were seen to be only a few hundred yards’ distant.
Suddenly one of their number dashed off with his horse on a dead run to the east. He did not take a course toward the whites, but aimed for the elevation which extended in a southerly direction. It looked as if he meant to learn whether any friends of the little garrison were in the neighborhood.
“If he goes over the ridge,” said Strubell in a low tone, as all eyes were fixed on him, “he must see us.”
He did not pass over, but halted at the top and sat motionless on the bare back of his pony, evidently engaged in scanning every portion of the visible prairie. At this moment old Eph glanced at the animals, a short way behind them, and saw that his horse was in the act of rising. His forequarters were up, and his head raised, after the manner of his kind, when his master spoke sharply and he immediately sank back again.
The action of the steed was as singular as it was unfortunate, and for a minute everyone was sure the discovery had been made. But the action of the Apache to the south left the matter in doubt. He wheeled about and rode back to his comrades at an easier pace, but they did not gather around him, as they would have been quite sure to do if he had borne important news to them.
The result was that neither Bozeman nor the Texans knew whether the Apache had seen them or not – a state of doubt as trying as actual discovery.
The belief was that the action of the horse had not betrayed them, for, until the red men faded from view in the deepening gloom, nothing to show the contrary was observable.
The night promised to be favorable for the dangerous enterprise. It would be quite dark, the moon not appearing until late, there was no wind, and, in the stillness, the slightest sound could be heard for a long distance. If the Apaches knew nothing of the party behind the elevation, they would be likely to remain on their horses, whose tread could be detected long before they were visible, while the advance of old Eph was to be in such utter silence that even the wonderfully fine hearing of an Apache would avail him naught.
“I’m goin’ to start soon,” said the trapper, “and I want to know what’s to be said to Bell, if I get the chance to talk with him.”
“In the first place,” said Strubell, by way of reply, “Herbert is to fix the price of the ransom he’s willing to pay.”
“What do you think I ought to give?” asked the youth, who had thought a good deal over the question.
“I don’t know – but it seems to me that a thousand dollars should be the outside figure. What do you think, Baker?”
“Five hundred is my idea, but I wouldn’t think of goin’ above what you say.”
“Why,” said the surprised Herbert, “I had fixed five thousand as the limit, not knowing but that I might exceed that.”
“Don’t think of it.”
“Five thousand dollars,” repeated old Eph, with a low whistle, for the sum to him was a prodigious fortune.
“Well, Eph can figure as best he can, but I will agree that that sum shall be paid, if Rickard will take nothing less.”
“How are you goin’ to pay it? What are the tarms?” asked the trapper, who knew nothing about the forms of “exchange,” as it was proper to term the business in view.
“You can say to him that, if he will send Nick and his horse back to us unharmed, I will give him a draft on Mr. Lord in San Antonio for whatever sum you agree upon. He will understand that. I have the blanks with me, and can fill them in with pencil, which is as legal as ink. Then all he has to do is to hand the paper to Mr. Lord, who will give him the money without question. I will let him have another piece of writing which will insure that.”
It was all a mystery to the old trapper, who had never seen anything of the kind, and perhaps there would be more difficulty in the way than the hopeful Herbert believed, but it was the best that offered, and since Rickard must, of necessity, be compelled to trust the others to a certain extent, he was not likely to propose other terms.
The matter was made clear, so far as could be done, to Eph, who, to insure he was right, repeated his instructions until they were pronounced correct by the others. Strubell, having some education himself, helped to force the bit of knowledge into his brain.
“S’pose he says he won’t do it for five thousand, but wants six, or seven, or more – what then?” asked Eph.
“Make the best bargain you can; I am willing you should go up to six, seven – yes, ten thousand,” added Herbert, who felt in that moment that there was nothing too much for him to do for the best friend he had in the world.
“Are you crazy?” asked the amazed Strubell. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m in earnest,” was the resolute reply of the youth, who shuddered at the thought that a little haggling at the crisis might bring about the death of Nick Ribsam.
“Well,” said the Texan, “since you talk that way, you can set it down as certain that Bell Rickard will turn Nick over in a hurry.”
“Yas,” added old Eph, “and go into the bus’ness of stealin’ younkers instead of hosses, for it will pay him much bigger.”
“But there’s one thing you can work in,” remarked Lattin, “that is, that he won’t have any trouble in gettin’ any sum up to five thousand, but when you go above that, there’s sure to be difficulty and he may lose the whole thing.”
All agreed that this was a clever idea which would have weight with the horse thief. The trapper promised to make the best use of it.
There seemed to be nothing more to settle, and Eph was ready to start.
“I’m goin’ straight for the front of the buildin’,” he said, “for the chance is as good on one side as t’other, but it will take me a good while to git thar.”
“Suppose you run into trouble,” suggested Strubell, “you must make a break for us and we’ll do what we can for you.”
“I won’t do nothin’ of the kind,” was the reply of the trapper, “for that would be the last of you; I’ve got to go under some time, and what difference whether it’s sooner or later? If the varmints jump onto me, I’ll make the best fight I kin, but I don’t want any of you foolin’ round; all you need to do is to look out for yourselves and leave me alone.”
It was useless to argue with old Eph, and no one tried to do so. After all, he was more likely to be right than wrong, though it seemed cruel to remain idle when he was in extremity.
“Wal, I’m off,” he said, rising to his feet and striding down the slope toward the building.
As he did so he formed a striking figure. He loomed up large and massive in the gloom, with his long rifle grasped in his left hand, and his right resting on the revolver which he carried in the girdle about his waist. He took long steps, for he was so far from his destination that it was too soon to creep, but as his moccasins pressed the grass, not one of those watching him heard any sound. The progress of a shadow across the wall could not have been more silent.
The huge form quickly melted into the gloom, and all was still. Not once had the Apaches given utterance to their whoops, and they were so distant that the sounds of their horses’ hoofs could not reach the watchers, a fact which the latter took as proof that the warriors had not discovered their presence on the elevation.
The minutes that followed were trying. The Texans knew that a long time must elapse before the trapper would reappear, even if the circumstances were favorable; in fact half the night was likely to pass ere he would show up again.
As nearly as they could judge, an hour had gone, during which the same profound quiet held reign, when all were startled by the sharp crack of a pistol from the direction taken by the trapper.
“What I feared!” whispered Lattin; “he’s in trouble!”
CHAPTER XXIX.
THROUGH THE NIGHT
WHILE Herbert Watrous lay on the ground, at the top of the elevation, with the Texans waiting for the return of the old trapper, he asked Strubell to explain their action on the night of the first norther, when they sent him and Nick through the hills to the other side.
“Well,” replied the cowboy, “our first purpose was to have you out of the way when the scrimmage took place, for we knew it was coming sure.”
“But you said you had no trouble with Rickard and his gang.”
“And we didn’t; off in another direction was a party of Comanches that must have taken us for their own warriors, for they began signalling in a way that made it look so. We answered their signals, but they found out the trick before we could trap them. However, they were out for game, and they came at us in the evening. It isn’t worth while to give the particulars,” added the Texan significantly, “but when the fun opened it wasn’t long before the red gentlemen found out their mistake. They rode off – that is, some of them did – and that was all.”
“But what of Rickard and his men?”
“While we were having the row with the Comanches they played a clever trick on us. They got round through the ridge, without our suspecting it till next morning, and walked off with Nick.”
“They might as well have captured both of us,” said Herbert, “and I have often wondered that they did not.”
“They took the highest priced one,” observed Strubell, with a chuckle, “but I guess there was another reason. Bell had a spite against Nick, and meant to put him out of the way if he couldn’t fix the ransom business. While the main thing was money with him, it wasn’t that alone.”
This point in the story was reached when the three heard the report of old Eph’s pistol, which rang out on the night with startling distinctness. It was nearer the building than the elevation where the friends were awaiting the return of the trapper.
“By gracious!” exclaimed Strubell in an excited undertone, “I can’t stay here, knowing he needs our help, for all he told us to do so.”
“And I feel the same way,” added Lattin, rising partly to his feet, “but what about leaving Herbert here?”
It was this thought that held the two for a moment, but the youth hastened to say:
“If you can do him any good, go at once; I am in no danger.”
“I think not, but I aint sure. If anything disturbs you,” added the elder, “mount your horse and make off; your pony can go as fast as any of theirs.”
But for the belief, confirmed by the action of the Apaches, that they did not suspect the presence of the whites, neither Strubell nor Lattin would have allowed Herbert to be alone; but they knew that if they were to help the trapper not a second was to be lost.
Instead of mounting their animals, they hurried down the slope on foot, breaking into a run, or rather loping trot, which enabled them to cover much ground with little noise, as their feet pressed the greensward.
The distance was considerable, and when they approached the spot where the pistol had been fired, they slackened their pace, listening and peering into the gloom, which was so deep that they could see no more than fifty feet in any direction.
“This must be near the place,” whispered Lattin, “but where is he?”
“It’s a good sign if we can’t find him, though I don’t understand why he used his pistol unless he was in trouble.”
As nearly as they could judge, they were within two or three hundred yards of the building. It was so easy to err as to the point whence the report had come that they paused, undecided what to do.
Darkness was on every hand. Not the first outlines of the structure could be distinguished, nor was there a glimpse of any man or animal. The stars were shining brightly in the clear sky, and their light was all that guided their progress.
“We’ll go a little further,” said Strubell in the same guarded undertone, “but we must be on the watch, for we’re in a bad place ourselves.”
“Sh!” At that moment, they caught the sound of a horse’s hoofs, their experience telling them the animal was on a gallop. The noise was faint – quickly dying out, thus showing that the pony was receding instead of approaching. Nothing, therefore, was to be feared from the rider of that particular animal.
To guard against passing their friend, the Texans now separated a few paces, taking care to keep within sight of each other. They pushed forward at a moderate walk, on the alert for the first evidence of danger.
A couple of rods were traversed in this manner when Lattin, who was on the left, emitted a faint hissing sound. At the same instant he sank to the ground, and Strubell was hardly a second behind him in doing the same. He saw nothing, but he knew that his friend did.
A form so dim, shadowy, and indistinct that he could trace nothing more than its outlines took shape in the gloom itself, a short distance in front of Lattin, who was so quick to utter the warning to his companion. It was not a horseman, but a man on foot.
The suspicion that it might be the trapper caused the Texan to give another faint call – so faint indeed that the alert ear of an Apache would not have noticed it. Old Eph would be sure, however, to read its meaning.
But the reply was not satisfactory. Instead of answering it with a similar signal, the silence was not broken, and, while the Texan was peering into the darkness, he became aware that he was staring at vacancy. The form had melted into the gloom – proof that it was moving in another direction.
“It must have been one of the varmints,” whispered Lattin, as he stepped noiselessly to the side of his friend, “but I didn’t s’pose they was walkin’ round instead of ridin’ their animals.”
“They must suspect something; I guess Eph got through, after all.”
“We’ll go a little further,” said Lattin, turning to the left again; “maybe he’s hurt so bad he can’t help himself.”
The stillness continued, until once more they came together with the decision to return to the elevation where they had left Herbert. The fact that the Apaches were moving about on foot caused uneasiness concerning him, and they thought it best to return at once.
“Do you see it?” asked Strubell.
“Yes; we’re further along than I thought.”
It was the old mission building to which they alluded. It loomed to view in the darkness, its outlines dimly traceable against the starlit sky beyond. Not the first glimmer of a light showed, nor could the strained ear catch the semblance of a sound. But for that glimpse of the man on foot they would have believed the Apaches had departed with the coming of night.
It was idle to stay longer, and they turned about, moving off with the same care displayed from the first, for they were more anxious than either would confess to rejoin the youth, further away than they wished was the case.
The result of their venture did much to relieve them of fear concerning Eph Bozeman, though it was not altogether satisfactory. He might have collided with several Apaches on foot, and been despatched. It was impossible in the darkness to strike the exact spot where the meeting occurred, and, for aught they knew, the body of the old trapper was lying at that moment, cold and lifeless, with the face upturned to the stars.
As the distance from the building increased, the Texans hastened their footsteps, and it was a striking proof of their skill in such delicate situations that they came back to the elevation within a rod of the spot where they had left it. Without anything to guide them, except that strange, unexplainable intuition or instinct, this was a remarkable exploit in its way.
But to their alarm, when they peered about them, after recognizing the place, they failed to see Herbert.
“Something must have alarmed him,” said Strubell; “but I hope it was nothing serious.”
“We’ll soon know,” said Lattin, who moved hastily back to where the horses had been placed. He was away but a moment when he came back.
“The ponies are all there but his; he’s gone.”
CHAPTER XXX.
A FIGURE IN THE DARKNESS
FOR the first time since joining the Texans in the pursuit of Bell Rickard and his captive, Herbert Watrous found himself entirely alone. He was lying on his face in the grass, at the top of the elevation, peering out in the night, and watching and listening for signs of friends and enemies.
It was not until the Texans had been gone several minutes that he began to fancy his own situation was threatened with the same peril that had overtaken Eph Bozeman, the trapper.
“They were never certain the Apaches didn’t find out we were here,” he thought, “and they may have been wrong in thinking that warrior did not observe us. If those people are as cunning as I have been told, who can say that their actions were not meant to throw two such experienced hunters as Strubell and Lattin off their guard?”
This was figuring matters to a fine point, and the result was that Herbert reasoned himself into a most uncomfortable frame of mind before his friends had been absent a quarter of an hour.
“I have half a mind to go out and mount Jill,” he added, “and move off somewhere else; I would do it if the chances were not that I would ride into a worse place than this – my gracious!”
He was looking in the direction of the mission building, when something assumed form in the darkness immediately in front. Like the figure that caught the notice of Lattin at about the same time, the outlines were so indistinct that he could not identify it at first, but, with amazement and alarm, he speedily saw that a horseman had halted at the foot of the slope, with the face of himself and steed turned toward him. They were as motionless as if carved in stone, and their approach had been accompanied with no sound that reached the ear of Herbert.
There was something so uncanny in the apparition that, after first identifying it, the youth suspected it was a mistake, and that something affected his vision. He turned his gaze away, and even looked behind him. The result was similar to that which is noticeable when we gaze at the Pleiades on a clear night. Keen scrutiny shows but six stars, one modestly withdrawing before our ardent gaze, to reappear when we glance carelessly in the direction again.
Bringing back his eyes from their groping, Herbert saw the horseman so plainly that no room for doubt remained. He was there at the foot of the slope, apparently staring upward in the darkness with the same intensity that the lad was studying him.
There was no room for hoping that this stranger was a friend, for none of them had left the spot with his animal. It followed, therefore, that he was an Apache out for mischief, since that was the only errand that ever took those miscreants abroad.
“I believe it is the same one that rode to the top of the elevation just before night,” thought Herbert; “he saw enough to know something is wrong, and is now seeking to find out for himself. He mustn’t interfere with me,” added the youth, compressing his lips, as he brought his rifle round in front.
Had the Apache made a charge upon him, Herbert would have let fly without an instant’s hesitation. He was inclined to fire as it was; but, like the manly boy that he had become, he shrank from doing that which looked so much like a crime. Villainous as were the red men, he could not force himself to shoot one down in so heartless a fashion.
Besides, there was the possibility that the Indian did not know that anyone was on the elevation. Indeed, it might be said that the very appearance as described was evidence that he lacked such knowledge, for he had placed himself in a peril which one of his tribe would be sure to avoid. Herbert therefore decided to await more positive evidence of wrong intent before making any movement against the fellow.
His heart gave a quick throb when he discovered that the horseman was advancing. He heard the sound of his pony’s hoofs, followed by a more distinct outlining of both.
“I do believe I shall have to drop him,” thought Herbert, “and I wouldn’t wait any longer if I wasn’t afraid that it would bring the rest to the spot.”
It was this fear that restrained him. There were likely to be others near who would swarm thither at the report of his gun, and more than likely make him prisoner, or slay him before he could leap into the saddle and dash off.
Self-interest urged him to wait until the last moment.
He reasoned that it was impossible for the sharp-eyed warrior to see him, since he was still flat in the grass; he must have possessed wonderful acumen to make his way to the spot in the darkness.
“It all depends on you,” was Herbert’s decision; “if you keep your distance no one will be hurt, but one step more and there will be a missing Apache.”
The action of the latter was singular, for, after advancing a brief space, he again checked his pony and stood as motionless as before.
Nothing was clearer than that something was suspected at least by the red man to cause him to act in this manner. It may have been that his pony was the suspicious one, and the rider was debating with himself whether to explore further or give it up.
Undoubtedly it was fortunate for himself as well as for Herbert that he did not take long to reach a conclusion. At the moment the youth believed a meeting was certain, his steed wheeled and was off like a shot in the darkness – gone before Herbert could have taken any aim.
He drew a sigh of relief at being left alone once more and so unexpectedly.
“I believe that warrior will be back,” was his conclusion, “and if he is he won’t find me here.”
Recalling the advice of Strubell, he hurried to where the horses had been left. They seemed to have concluded that the coming of night released them from the command of their masters to remain on the ground, for the whole four were on their feet, cropping the grass. Their saddles were in place, but their bits had been shifted to allow them to eat, and each one was improving his time.
Jill gave a faint whinny on recognizing his master, and seemed pleased to feel him in the saddle again.
“I don’t know which way to go now that I’m ready,” thought Herbert, “but it won’t do to ride far, or Strubell and Lattin will have another young man’s ransom to arrange for.”
Manifestly the counsel of his friends was meant that he should hold himself ready to flee the instant it became necessary, but until then, the chances were even that he would not decrease his peril by a change of quarters.
A creditable motive led Herbert to adopt what might be called a compromise, and which was not lacking in a certain acuteness.
If he remained until detected by the Apaches, and should then dash off, they were sure to discover the other horses, and would shoot or stampede them, leaving the three men in a hapless plight; but if Herbert were charged upon at some other point, even if not far removed, the animals might be overlooked in the flurry of pursuit.
He therefore rode his pony parallel with the elevation and in a southern direction, until he had gone a hundred yards or more, when he drew up, and awaited the development of events.
He did not go to the top of the slight ridge, but near enough to peer over without showing anything more than the head of himself and Jill.
All this time he did not forget the risk that would be run by getting too far from his friends. If they were to be troubled by trying to reunite with him, the complication was likely to affect Nick Ribsam as well. To prevent himself going astray, he therefore held along the ridge. That could not fail to be a sure guide to him whenever he wished to retrace his steps, for he had only to follow its course in reverse to reach the former place in a brief space of time.
His position now was quite similar to that of the Apache a short while before, for he was motionless on his steed, facing the top of the ridge, and waiting, watching and listening for whatever might come.
“The whole party of Apaches,” he said to himself, “may be stealing toward this spot, thinking to find us all within their reach.”