CHAPTER XII.—DRIVING THE STAMPEDED STOCK HOME.
“Wake up, Billie; it’s breakfast time!”
Probably no other summons could have such an immediate effect upon the stout chum as this call. He instantly raised his head, and commenced to sniff the air.
“Coffee, and bacon frying in the bargain! Oh! I hope now I ain’t too late; and also that you’ve cooked enough for all. Remember, we’ve got guests along with us; and you promised me you wouldn’t let the rustlers go hungry, whatever else you did!” was what he exclaimed, as he crawled out of his snug retreat, and commenced to stretch vigorously, as well as rub his eyes in the bargain.
They assured him that after they had eaten, a second supply would be placed at his disposal to cook, while the others were up the coulie getting pointers on the lay of the land, and how best to start the herd out on the open again, when the time came to make a start.
With that Billie had to rest content. His words had been loud enough for the four prisoners to catch, and must have afforded them more or less relief; since they were doubtless hungry by now, and wondering whether the boys meant to keep them in that condition any length of time.
Having satisfied the inner man Adrian, accompanied by Donald, started up the ravine. Of course they took their guns along; and before leaving warned Billie that while he could cook some breakfast for the prisoners, under no condition was he to try and feed any of them until the others came back.
He promised this readily enough, for truth to tell Billie would not have particularly fancied untying the arms of one of those muscular fellows, lest he be taken off his guard, when there would be the mischief to pay.
The cattle were found to be grazing peacefully. They had apparently entirely recovered from the panic that accompanied the stampede, and when once driven out on the plain would naturally fall into old ways, and allow themselves to be urged on the back trail; for Adrian had concluded that they could do no better than to follow the plain marks made by the herd in fleeing.
When they got back to the fire they were met by Billie’s declaration that he had the prisoners’ breakfast ready, and if one of them would help him he could feed them by relays.
“I’ll do that, because Donald’s busy with something else,” said Adrian.
Accordingly they started proceedings, and found it little trouble, since they only unfastened the arms of the prisoners, and these two at a time. The leader happened to be one of the second batch. He kept looking at Adrian as he ate ravenously; and it was evident he had about made up his mind that this must surely be the young owner of the Sherwood ranch.
Billie was more interested in the other fellow, who happened to be the glutton of that midnight meal. His enormous appetite still seemed to stay with him; and Billie, who claimed to be able to hold his own in the feeding line with most people, sat there, staring at the way the man disposed of the food, as though he might either be lost in admiration, or else filled with dismay, perhaps taking a lesson.
“Here, you go slow there,” he finally felt it his duty to say, warningly; “that’s got to last you for some time, you know, because we’re meaning to leave you here when we ride away. Don’t gobble so, you pig! I eat a lot, but I do it decent-like, and not like a starving dog bolting his grub. Let up, I say, and get the good out of what you’re swallowing!”
“You are the Sherwood boy, ain’t you?” suddenly demanded the tall leader, as Adrian handed him his last allowance of coffee in the tin cup.
“Well, I suppose there’s no use in my denying it, because I’ve managed to remember you now,” remarked Adrian. “You used to ride for my father years ago; your name is Tad Whiffles; and you had to get away from Bar-S Ranch on account of your quarrelsome disposition. Yes, I’m the Sherwood kid you speak of; and I’ve come up from the Arizona ranch of my friend Donald Mackay, to find out what’s all the matter with things up here.”
The puncher called Tad Whiffles looked him over from head to foot; then he turned deliberately to the other stampeder, and nodding his head, was heard to say:
“D’ye hear that, Corney? Tell me, won’t there be high jinks to pay in these parts right soon now? I can see a warm session at Bar-S when the boy owner comes acrost Josie, that was a Walker onct! Say, I’d give a heap tuh be there on the spot tuh see that same meetin’, b’lieve me, Corney.”
“Oh! things will all be straightened out after a bit,” Adrian assured him in a confident fashion that caused the man to elevate his eyebrows, and mutter half under his breath:
“Blame me if I don’t more’n harf think as how ye kin do the trick, if anybody kin, kid. The way ye follered us hyar, and took the hull crowd in makes me feel cheap. I don’t know what ther ole man’ll hev tuh say tuh us when he gets on tuh the story. But wait an’ see how he comes out when he rubs up aginst yuh. But I sure would like tuh be at Bar-S for a bit when yuh arrives with all them steers. Wow! ain’t thar agoin’ tuh be somebody surprised, though?”
He shook his head, and relapsed into silence, as though the matter might be too big for him to grasp all at once.
So the two rustlers were once more securely pinioned. Adrian himself made sure that their bonds were tight, for he did not mean to have his plans spoiled by any fluke, if it could be avoided.
When they had packed things, and were all ready to start, Donald went to the man who was such a heavy eater, and whom they judged to be the most tractable of the lot.
“We’re going to take you along with us, to help drive the herd,” he told him; and the fellow’s face immediately took on a serious look.
“But what’ll they do to me over at the Bar-S, if they git hands on me, pard?” he asked, uneasily. “That same old Comstock, if ever he does break away from under the thumb of his wife is sure agoin’ to throw things around promiscuous like; and mebbe he’ll begin by makin’ me an awful lesson. Seems like I c’n feel the feathers asproutin’ out all over me a’ready, ’case he’ll git the tar heated, sure-pop. Say, there’s Bemis as kin drive herd a heap better’n me any day agoin’. Hadn’t ye sooner pick him to help out?”
“Oh! don’t worry,” remarked Donald as he cut the fellow’s bonds; “get up now, and walk ahead of me. We don’t mean to take you all the way, but along about noon we might send you back with the ponies belonging to your crowd.”
“If that’s a fact I don’t mind ahelpin’ drive,” declared the man, with a relieved look on his face.
He might have thought that there would come a chance for him to slip away while chasing after the cattle; but if so he reckoned without his host; for Donald and Adrian were too smart to allow such an opening.
One of them kept close to the rustler all the while; and he was given plainly to understand that if he tried any such sneak game they would leave the cattle to shift for themselves temporarily while they ran him down, and filled him full of lead.
The sight of the repeating rifles which all the Broncho Rider Boys carried, and handled as though they knew well how to use the same, filled him with a certain amount of respect; and if he had cherished any hopes of escaping they were kept carefully in restraint.
They had little trouble in getting the herd out of the coulie. The range boys knew just how to go about this sort of business; and when the rustler heard them yelling, and slapping their hats on their chaps as they started the feeding cattle, he knew that they were old hands at driving, even if young in years.
He did his part of the work all right, for he saw that this was the easiest way of getting on the good side of these energetic lads.
The three who were left behind called out, and told their captors they hoped they would not be forgotten in the shuffle; because before now cow-punchers had starved to death, or fallen victims to the hungry wolves that roamed the plains of nights.
Paying no further attention to them the boys chased after the moving herd, soon running along the back trail, with the drivers whooping, and dashing here and there to keep some stray animal from breaking away.
All went well, because both Adrian and Donald made it a point that one of them keep close enough to the rustler driver to see that he was given no opportunity to escape. Billie’s duty was not so much to drive, as to lead; in other words he had charge of the three cattle ponies belonging to the men who had been left bound in the camp at the mouth of Bittersweet Coulie; and which were to be generously turned over to Corney when they allowed him to depart, along about the middle of the day perhaps.
“I hope it’s before lunch time that they let him go scot free,” Billie was muttering to himself from time to time, as he frowned, and watched the evolutions of the puncher named Corney; possibly Billie had good reason for wishing this, since he happened to know that their rations had reached a rather low ebb by now; and if that enormous eater was invited to sit down with them at noon, and devour at will, what was going to become of those who had a better right to the “grub” than the rustler?
Some two hours after the start they discovered that several riders had headed in their direction. At first the boys were bothered a little, until they made the pleasing discovery that these were the same three friendly cow-punchers whom they had met on the previous day.
A sudden idea flashing into Adrian’s mind, he made signals that he would like to talk with the trio. At that they turned directly, and came galloping along; for up to then it seemed they were inclined to sheer off, and mind their own business; because in these unsettled days it was not always the wisest thing to push up alongside those who were driving stock, lest they butt in on matters that were not intended to be known outside of certain Walker circles.
At discovering their young friends of the preceding day circling the herd that bore the brand of the Bar-S Ranch, the three punchers exchanged looks of intense surprise; and their wonder evidently took leaps and bounds when they also recognized in Corney a man of ill repute, who was known to be connected with the Walker crowd.
Adrian had rather fancied the three punchers, and meant to see if he could not offer them inducements to engage with him, as he feared he would need a new supply of men, when he started to weed out the Bar-S employees.
CHAPTER XIII.—ADRIAN HIRES MORE HELP.
“We didn’t reckon we’d meet up with you so soon again,” remarked one of the cow-punchers, as, with his two companions, he drew in alongside Adrian; Donald at the time was “keeping tabs” on the rustler at some little distance away.
“And you’re wondering your heads off right now,” Adrian told him, with one of his rare smiles that made him so many friends, “what under the sun we’re doing with this bunch of cattle. It’s a long story, so I’ll just say that we saw a stampede with four rustlers managing it, and chased after. We found them in camp at the mouth of Bittersweet Coulie, up which they had chased the herd, where they could change the brands in the morning, and drive the lot away to one of the Walker ranches. Well, we managed to make the four punchers our prisoners; and leaving three bound there, we’re taking the other fellow part way along the back trail. When we got a few miles from the ranch buildings we thought we’d let him go back with the four ponies, so’s to free his pards. That’s the yarn in a nutshell, boys.”
They stared at him, as though hardly able to believe their ears. It seemed incredible that three mere lads should have managed to get the better of a bunch of the Walker rustlers, men whom all honest punchers wanted as little to do with as possible.
Still, there were the cattle as positive evidence of the truth of Adrian’s story, and they knew Corney, as well as his reputation, well enough.
“That beats anything I’ve heard tell of for many a day!” exclaimed one puncher, looking as though he might be ready to shout, and swing his hat in glee.
“First time them Walkers has been rubbed the wrong way for a hull year or more,” added the second fellow in chaps and flannel shirt, and boots that sported enormous Mexican spurs; “fact is, ever since Fred Comstock took water, and quit fightin’ ’em, an’ that was after he married that sister of Hatch Walker’s.”
“He did used to be a fighter; but seems like his heart it’s broke with havin’ her hands in his hair so often; and he never lets out a yawp these days, no matter what happens. And say, them steers is got the Bar-S brand on right now; seems like they must a come from his place, the third lot he’s lost in nine months.”
“It’s going to be the last, if I know anything about it!” declared Adrian; at which suggestive words the three cow-punchers exchanged significant glances, and then the lanky fellow remarked:
“We doesn’t mean to be personal, you know, stranger, but might we ask what that’s got to do with you?” he went on to say.
“Only this,” replied the boy, quickly; “they’ve been robbing me long enough, and I think it’s about time this Walker gang was broken up, in the bargain. There’s a new sheriff just come into office, I’m told, and as soon as I can get word to him I’m going to demand that he come to the Bar-S Ranch with a posse, to take some decided action. Perhaps, when they find out that there’s something on foot, the other ranch owners around this part of the Wyoming range country will join in with me. Oh! I forgot that I hadn’t introduced myself yet. I’m Adrian Sherwood, and it’s my Uncle Fred Comstock you’ve been telling such queer stories about.”
“Put her there, Adrian!” shouted the lanky puncher, thrusting out his hand. “I sure am proud to meet up with the son of a man that had such a good name as your dad. And if what you’ve started in to do is a sign of what’s goin’ to happen here, I reckons as how the Walkers’ll hev to walk purty soon, eh, boys?” and he turned to nod his head at his comrades.
These two were just as desirous of shaking hands with young Sherwood as the lanky fellow had been; and Adrian liked them more than ever.
“I’ve been surprised at the bad returns I’ve been getting a long while now, from Uncle Fred,” he went on to say, “and made up my mind to run along here from Arizona, where I was visiting my friend Donald Mackay, on his father’s ranch, just to find out for myself what was going on.”
“Then Comstock nor his big wife don’t suspicion that you’re around, is thet it, Adrian?” exclaimed the thin puncher, grinning as though vastly pleased.
“The first they’ll know about it,” the other went on to say, “will be this afternoon when we come driving this recovered herd back home. One of the three men we left at the mouth of the coulie said he’d give something to be on hand when that took place, just to see what happened.”
“You bet I would, too!” declared the lanky puncher; “and my pards here would be tickled to death if they could see what she looks like when you kim aridin’ along, drivin’ your own cattle back home, which she expects are carryin’ the Walker brand by this time.”
“Sure we would!” burst out the other two, eagerly.
“All right, then, you can see that sight if you’ll engage with me for a year at the regular wages, and agree to stand back of me!” observed Adrian, thinking the time had come to strike while the iron was hot.
“D’ye mean that, Adrian Sherwood?” asked the other, after he had caught affirmative nods from both his companions.
“Just what I do!” was the reply the ranch boy gave. “I expect there’ll have to be an overhauling of the pay roll when I take the reins in my own hands; because of course some of the punchers at the ranch will be Walker sympathizers, put there to cow the rest. My uncle will know those he can trust, and the rest must go; so you see I’ll need a few good trusty fellows to back me up. What do you say?”
“It’s a go!” exclaimed the lanky puncher, as he again thrust out his hand; “for it happens just now that we’re lookin’ for a job, as our boss sold out his ranch business, and the new man brought his own crowd along with him. We even thought of hiking over to Bar-S to see what chance there might be there; but since that Walker crowd has been runnin’ things up yonder none of us kinder like the idea of hitchin’ up with Mr. Comstock. But since you’ve come, and mean to do things like you say, why, we’ll throw in with you, sure we will, Adrian.”
That pleased the other more than he could find words to say.
“Then let’s call it a bargain, and first chance we get we’ll put the same down in writing so there’ll be no mistake. And now tell me what your names might be.”
The lanky one gave his as George Hess; the little “sawed-off” announced himself as Andy Hickenlooper; while the last puncher declared that he would respond to any name, especially when the cook was pounding on a frying-pan with a big spoon to announce dinner; but that if he had to sign any legal document he believed he could swear to the fact that he had once been called Septimus Green, shortened to plain Sep.
It was determined that they might carry the rustler along for a few more miles and then send him about his business, with the other ponies in his charge. To be sure, the news would thus be carried to the Walker headquarters in due time; but long ere that could happen Adrian expected to have reached the ranch with his cattle, so that it did not matter much anyhow.
Of course Adrian felt it his immediate duty to inform his chums of his good fortune in making arrangements with such a husky lot of punchers, and ones they had particularly fancied when they met them before.
So he had George keep the rustler under his eye, while he called Donald and Billie to him, to explain the situation. No doubt the boys had partly guessed the truth as soon as they heard those yells, and saw the three newcomers swing out to start driving the herd; but all the same it sounded fine to them as Adrian spun the story.
“Great work, old chum!” exclaimed Billie, approvingly; “and already the atmosphere up around these diggings seems different. The punchers think so; and say, wouldn’t it be a stupendous thing now if our coming started the ranchers to getting their pluck back, so that they’d rise up, and chase this old Walker tribe out of Wyoming. Hope that’s what’s going to happen, you hear me talking, boys!”
When Billie was pleased his round red face fairly beamed with the smile that came so easily upon it. It was a catching smile, too, and many times those who saw the same just had to chime in from sheer sympathy.
For some time longer the drive went on, and they must have covered more than half of the territory over which the stampeded cattle had chased on the preceding night. As yet there was not the first sign of any pursuit on the part of the punchers connected with the raided ranch; as George Hess said, they were “lying down, like whipped dogs, and letting things go as they pleased, because it wouldn’t do any good if they did want to follow the thieves, with that woman holding her thumb on Fred Comstock so that he didn’t dare call his soul his own these days, without dodging.”
Adrian began to recognize numerous marks in the landscape. He knew that in not more than another couple of hours they ought to arrive at their destination, unless something not down on the bills happened to interfere; which could only come from a meeting with a large bunch of the Walker punchers, and consequent war.
Billie was eagerly waiting to hear one of his chums remark that it was time they turned the rustler loose. He was beginning to get uneasy, under the dreadful fear that this dismissal might be delayed so long that they would have to feed the fellow again, and that Billie believed would be a misfortune in many ways.
Finally he saw Adrian beckon the rustler, and head him toward where Billie had the three ponies belonging to the prisoners of Bittersweet Coulie trailing along after him. That could only mean one thing, the sending of Corney about his business, and allowing him to gallop back to release his unfortunate companions.
“Here’s your ponies,” Billie called out, after he had heard Adrian tell the fellow he was at liberty to ride away; “and don’t forget that we treated you white on this trip. I only hope that if ever I have the misfortune to be held a prisoner among your crowd that you’ll see to it I don’t starve; because I always did say there was no death I dreaded more than going without my regular allowance of grub.”
But nobody was listening to Billie talk. The rustler had taken the bridles of the ponies and without a word turned to gallop away. Once he did turn in his saddle to shake his clenched fist back at the boys, and then immediately duck down until he lay flat along the neck of his mount, half fearing lest one of them answer his challenge with a shot from his rifle.
But such a thing did not occur to any one of the three chums. They were really too glad to see the ugly-faced Corney depart to think of trying to detain him a minute longer than seemed absolutely necessary; and least of all would Billie have put out a restraining hand, because it was nearly noon, and lunch time.
CHAPTER XIV.—THE LAME PILGRIM ON THE TRAIL.
“There’s a cowboy riding this way, and seems like he might have come from your place, too, Adrian!” Donald called out, soon after they had let the rustler depart.
“It must be some messenger Uncle Fred’s sending to town, perhaps with a letter to me, telling about this new outrage, and that he’ll just have to throw up his job here, and clear out, since he’s powerless to help things,” the other suggested; as he watched the lone rider drawing near, evidently more than curious at discovering the lately stampeded bunch of cattle heading back toward the ranch house.
Upon being signalled he headed for them, and soon came riding up, his eyes round with wonder as he surveyed the six who constituted the drivers of the cattle.
“Hello! Frank,” called out George Hess, who seemed to know the other; “reckon as how you’re struck next door to dumb awonderin’ what all this means; but I’ll leave it to the boss here to explain. This same is Frank Bowker, Adrian, and about as decent a puncher as the ole man’s got left on the place. Reckon that’s why he’s asendin’ of him to town right now on business.”
“Is that where you’re bound, Frank?” asked Adrian; “perhaps you’ll think I’ve got no right to ask, but you see, I’m the owner of the Bar-S Ranch, and my name’s Sherwood.”
The puncher’s puzzled face was quickly wreathed in a grin, and as rapidly as he could speak he declared that he was mighty glad to meet up with Mr. Sherwood; and that it sure looked as though he had got busy the very first thing he arrived, in recovering the bunch of cattle that the rustlers had run off in a stampede.
Of course Adrian quickly gave him such facts as he deemed the other should know.
“And we’re going to clean up things here, Frank, remember that,” the boy wound up by saying in a quiet but positive way that made the others smile again, and act as though they would like to shake hands all around. “Are you really going to town for Uncle Fred; and if so would you take a written message to the new sheriff for me?”
“Will I?” burst out the other, excitedly; “say, you just try me, that’s all. And I’ll see that he gets the same as sure as I live. And I’ll tell him the time’s come at last for something to be done to round up that Walker crowd. We’ve stood for it too long already; and say, I’m just tickled to death to know there’s a real change acomin’. Wisht I could go back with you; mebbe I wouldn’t give my best pair of boots to be on hand when she larns who you are, and sees them steers adrivin’ right home to the Bar-S corrals. Wow! it’ll be some sight, believe me.”
But Adrian soon convinced Frank that it was his duty to get along to town as speedily as possible, so as to find the new sheriff, and place the letter he, Adrian would write, in his hands.
It took only a short time to prepare the communication, though the boy tried to explain the situation, and impress on the peace officer how necessary it was for him to lose no time in summoning a reliable posse, and riding out to the ranch house of the Bar-S outfit; for there was likely to be war around that section shortly, since the Walkers must fight before they would acknowledge defeat.
When Frank started away, waving his hat above his head, and shouting as only an excited range rider can, Adrian declared he felt a thousand per cent better.
“It’s all going to come out right in the end, Donald,” he told his chum.
“But before we get there it’s likely we’ll see some rocky times,” admitted the other, though his manner gave no evidence that the fact was causing him any particular uneasiness; for Donald had been brought up on a ranch, and often found himself confronted by difficulties that would have daunted any ordinary lad, but which he took boldly by the horns, and usually succeeded in getting the better of.
Once more they were on the way, and the boys began to look forward to the noisy greeting they might expect when they drove the herd up to the ranch house. Adrian had not forgotten how things looked around there, even though he had been absent for years; and he could picture Uncle Fred, his new wife, and the punchers connected with the place gathered in a big group, and staring at them while they rounded-up their charges, and drove them to the stock corral for safely, until things had simmered down somewhat.
“There’s another fellow on foot ahead of us, and he seems to be staggering along like he might be hurt some, Adrian,” Donald remarked, as he dashed over to where the other chum was riding along with Billie, content to leave much of the driving to the three punchers.
“Well, let’s strike off, and see who he is, and what’s happened to him,” suggested Adrian, when he had located the object mentioned by Donald, and saw that if they kept directly on after the cattle they would not come within half a mile of the foot traveler.
Accordingly the three started on a gallop. The man saw them coming, and halted in his limping manner of locomotion to watch them, even waving a hand as if wanting to show by this salute that he was friendly, and hoped they were the same.
As they bore down upon him they saw that he was a rather forlorn looking chap. He might be called middle-aged, but his face was thin, and seemed to have a perpetual look of alarm and dread stamped upon it. When he got to talking the least thing would cause him to give a jump, and look hastily around as though he feared lest the heavy hand of the law was about to descend on his bony shoulder.
Still, he did not look at all like a bad man, and Adrian really felt more or less pity for the wretch, who was evidently footsore and weary, perhaps hungry in the bargain.
“What brings you away off here without a mount?” he asked, as the three of them sat in their saddles, and surveyed the old fellow.
“Oh! I had a hoss, all right, but he was that old and played-out that he just laid down on me, and gave up the ghost some miles back,” the man told them; “I’ve been hoofing it ever since; and as I’m lame it’s been a hard job for me. Never got over a little trouble I had two years back further south, a shooting scrape, though it was forced on me, gents, I assure you. Could you help me get to some ranch, where I might strike a job? I’m a master-hand at figures, and could keep the books for my board. If you leave me here I’m about ready to lie down, and give up the hull business. I’m that played out.”
Adrian did not altogether know that he was doing right, but he could not bear to see a wretched being suffer. And there was Billie, ready to chime in and add his entreaties to those of the foot traveler. Besides, as has been said before, the fellow looked absolutely harmless; and had evidently been his own worst enemy in the past, having a weakness for strong drink, Adrian suspected.
“Well, it would be hard to leave you here,” he said; “and perhaps my horse wouldn’t mind carrying double. It’s only for a short distance, anyway; and perhaps, who knows but what Uncle Fred might be glad to get some one to keep his books, when his board is all he asks. What’s your name?”
“Thomas,” the other started to say, and then paused for some reason; so that very naturally Adrian supposed he meant this was his last name.
“Well, see if you can climb up here then, Mr. Thomas; and hold on to me. We don’t expect to make fast time, and it’ll be better than walking, anyway.”
The dilapidated scarecrow hastened to avail himself of this opportunity. Already the forlorn look on his emaciated face was beginning to give way to one of hope.
“This is right kind of you, sir,” he said as he managed to get seated, with the assistance of the rider, though Ten Spot pranced more or less, as though to let them know he did not wholly approve of this double burden business; “and later on, if you could only manage to give me a few bites of food I’d be so thankful, because to tell you the honest truth I haven’t eaten a bite since noon yesterday.”
At that Billie was heard to give vent to a groan. Whether this was forced from his lips at the prospect of another hungry mouth to feed, or because he could sympathize with any one who was compelled to go without breaking his fast for such a length of time, it might be hard to say; though the latter seemed to be nearer the truth, judging from the way he began to search through his pockets until he had found a package wrapped in paper, which he thrust into the hand of Adrian’s passenger with the remark:
“That’s a piece of dried venison I’ve been carryin’ all the while, to keep body and soul together in case I ever got lost again on the desert or the prairie. But you’re welcome to it, Mr. Thomas. Don’t swallow it in lumps, because you had ought to grind your food first, and that pemmican is tough stuff. But it’ll keep you busy, and p’raps I’ll find a chance to cook something when that’s gone.”
“Bless your kind heart, my boy!” muttered the man, who was already tearing the paper off, so as to get busy with the piece of dried meat, upon which Billie had been secretly nibbling between meals, to “stay his stomach,” as he would say.
The herd had gotten some distance away, but the boys experienced no trouble in catching up again. As the three cow-punchers had their hands full keeping the cattle from breaking away, now that they were once more on familiar fields, they paid no attention to the newcomer. And Thomas was so savagely munching the tough dried meat that he did not seem to notice them.
A short time later the boys announced that they would stop alongside of a stream, let the cattle graze for a while, and get something to eat themselves. In spite of Billie’s vivid fears there was plenty of provisions left for all hands, even including the latest edition to the force.
Adrian noticed that Thomas hesitated when the three punchers came in after Billie had called to them that lunch was ready. He seemed to scan each face as if he feared lest there might be some one who would know him; and the boy fancied it was a look of relief that swept over the wrinkled countenance of the lame man when he made sure that he had nothing to fear in that line.
“There’s something queer about this Thomas,” Adrian told himself; “he’s been in a peck of trouble somewhere, and is afraid of somebody; because he’s forever looking around, and starts every time any one speaks. But he isn’t the kind to be afraid of, and he sure does need helping along. I’ll take him as far as the ranch house, anyway, and see what Uncle Fred can do for him.”
And with that he forgot all about the man for the time being, because there were so many other important things that came crowding into his mind.
After lunch they again mounted, Donald now taking the lame pilgrim up behind him for a change; and when the punchers had started the herd along, the journey toward Bar-S Ranch was resumed, with a prospect that another hour might see them bringing up at their destination.
CHAPTER XV.—FACE TO FACE AT THE CORRAL.
It appeared that that fine lunch had made the lame man feel a thousand per cent better. The coffee had gone to the right spot, and warmed up his heart, so that he really looked like a different man.
At the same time it developed that Thomas was something of a master-hand at talking, just as he claimed to be with figures. As he rode there behind Donald he kept up a perpetual flow of chattering, and his own adventures in the past, “further south,” as he described it, made up the main theme.
It seemed as though he had indeed been through a heap of trouble, and so far as his accounts went, he was never to blame for the distressing things that happened to him. A ruffian had waylaid him, and robbed him of his hard-earned savings, besides badly using him, so that he was still lame. Then back of that he had been set upon by a band of outlaws, who made him a prisoner, gave it out that he was dead, and for a whole year and more he had been forced to wait on them in their mountain cave, a regular slave.
He entertained Donald with a glowing account of how he had finally managed to stupefy the whole band with some drug he found among their plunder, and in this fashion made his escape. How much of this was true, and what portion ought to be laid to the fancy of an overwrought brain the boy could not tell. He simply put the fellow down as a timid man who liked to boast of things he claimed to have accomplished in the past, which could not be proven either way.
And Donald, too, believed that Thomas was a harmless fellow, given to boasting somewhat, perhaps, or telling extravagant tales about himself, but not at all dangerous.
In turn the other managed to ask a few questions concerning what their intended destination might be like. He had heard about Mr. Comstock being a generous man, and had started out to see if he could not find employment at the Bar-S Ranch. And if these young gentlemen happened to have a personal acquaintance with the manager of the place perhaps they might say a good word for him.
When he learned that Adrian was really the sole owner of the ranch the pilgrim entreated Donald to urge his chum to think kindly of a poor wretch who had been so long the football of fate.
Donald said he would, and hoped thus to get the other to stop talking; but now it was a shower of thanks which continued to fall from the lips of Thomas; who vowed again and again that never during the course of a long and adventurous career had he chanced to run across three such fine young fellows as these with whom his fortunes seemed bound up.
Tired at last of the everlasting flow of language Donald told the man to stop talking, as he had some very important details to figure out; and this apparently warned Thomas that he had better forego the pleasure of detailing other wonderful happenings which had come to him in the past; for he certainly did fall into a condition of silence.
A shout from Billie announced that the ranch buildings had been sighted ahead. This caused Donald and Adrian to dash on ahead of the cattle, for they wanted to be in a position to see all that went on.
As the bound rustler had said, likewise Frank Bowker, when he wished he might have an opportunity of witnessing their arrival, there was liable to be something interesting doing about that time.
Already looking far ahead they could see that the news of their coming must have percolated among the ranch buildings, and the bunk houses; for mounted punchers were dashing this way and that, as though greatly excited, and unable to understand what had happened to bring the lost herd trailing home. Those rustlers had never before been known to let loose their grip on a bunch of cattle, once they stampeded the same.
Nearer they pushed, so that it was now easy to hear the yells of the boys, who would ride out toward them, take a good look, and then gallop madly back toward the buildings as though pursued by a prairie fire.
“Looks like they just couldn’t believe their eyes,” remarked Billie, who was of a certainty enjoying the prospect of some excitement ahead, and trying to settle in his mind whether or not there would be a fight then and there between their little company and those of the Bar-S punchers who were really in the pay of the Walker gang, and doing about as they pleased, while the “missus” kept the little manager under her thumb.
“And this is only the beginning of the row!” declared Donald, grimly. “Wait till the lady comes out to see what all the racket means; and around that time there’ll be excitement worth talking about. She may have your Uncle Fred nailed down where she wants him, because he’s her husband, and she’s taught him to do what she tells him; but it’s going to be a different thing when the owner of the ranch happens along. Whew! ain’t they worked up to top-notch speed, though?”
“I’m trying to figure out in my mind,” remarked Adrian, “just from seeing how those punchers act, which of them are with the Walker crowd, and which can be depended on to back me up, if it comes to choosing a boss.”
“And how do you make out?” asked Donald, eagerly; “will the big end swing for or against us, do you believe, Adrian?”
“So far,” replied the other, “as well as I can tell from here, it’s about an even toss-up all around. Where one puncher looks scowling and mad, there’s another ready to throw his hat up, and yell with joy at seeing the long-horns coming back, when everybody counted them lost for keeps.”
“But none of them suspect that you’re here?” interposed Billie.
“Of course not; how could they, when even my uncle is resting under the belief that Adrian Sherwood is right now away down under the hot sun of Arizona, hanging his hat on a peg in the Keystone Ranch building.”
“You don’t see him yet, do you, Adrian, or the lady either, for that matter?” continued Billie, wild with impatience to witness that remarkable meeting when his chum would come face to face with the once strong-minded manager of the cattle ranch, but who was now a slave to petticoat rule as instituted by the sister of Hatch Walker, known at the time of her second marriage as the Widow Smeed.
“Not yet, but soon,” replied the other, who was rising in his stirrups, the better to see what was transpiring.
The trio of punchers who had been hired by Adrian to assist him in his work of reconstruction at Bar-S Ranch went about their business of shunting the cattle into the corrals as though they had worked here for years, and knew all the ropes; but then it was all a part of their stock in trade, and one ranch is pretty much like another, wherever cattle are raised for the market.
A couple of fellows belonging to the place took it upon themselves to lend a hand at turning the herd in at the proper moment, and by their actions informed Adrian that they were overjoyed to see the way things had turned out. He marked them down in his mind, and felt that here were a pair of worthy punchers, at least, on whom he might depend for aid when the time for choosing came.
Adrian also noticed that as they worked these fellows were forever twisting their heads around, and shooting anxious looks in the direction of the ranch house, just as though they anticipated an eruption at any moment now, when affairs might be brought around to a crisis.
He wished he could only get a chance to inform them who he was, and make sure that they would stand by him when the explosion came. How Uncle Fred would act was altogether uncertain, as yet. Adrian remembered him as a fiery little man who could look furious when he wanted, and was deemed utterly fearless when it came to facing a leveled gun in the hand of a desperate cattle thief; but then that was a different thing to standing up before a screaming, angry woman, whom he dared not lay a hand on because of the fact that she was a member of the other sex; while at the same time she was privileged, as his lawful spouse, to scratch and pound him to her heart’s content.
Perhaps it was strange that with all this racket taking place those in the ranch house had not issued forth as yet, to ascertain what it meant. But then cowboys are nearly always such a noisy set that one becomes accustomed to their wild whooping and yelling, and pays little attention to a sudden outburst of that kind.
But Billie knew it could not last.
“There, I saw a fellow skoot inside the house right then, Adrian!” he suddenly cried; “and chances are he’ll hand ’em the information that the stampeded herd is safe back again. If that gle-orious news don’t fetch ’em out on the licketty-split run then I don’t know beans. Just you watch and see what’s going to happen! Hey! see that, would you? I guess now that little fellow might be your one-time fe-rocious Uncle Fred, what’s been sat down on by the woman’s rights rule. See him shade his eyes with his hand, and stare at the cattle, as if he reckoned he might be plumb locoed. And now he’s started on the full run this way, to find out what happened. They never had a stolen bunch of stock come back before, you see; and that’s what makes ’em crazy over it. It seems too good to be true, to some of these fellows; while others are looking as black as the inside of my hat, and saying all sorts of bad things among themselves. Here he comes, Adrian; now get ready to push back the brim of your hat, and let Uncle Fred recognize you!”
Adrian was hardly listening to all these excited remarks on the part of the fat chum. With Donald close beside him, still mounted on his pony, he awaited the coming of the ranch manager, now running swiftly toward the spot where they had halted.
“And there she sprints after him!” gasped Billie; “Oh! My! Now mebbe we are going to see high jinks? Here, hold on, Mr. Thomas, what you sliding out like that for? They won’t hurt you, so long as my chum says you can stay!”
But the man they had picked up on the trail did not seem to fancy the looks of things, for he made the utmost haste to limp over to the nearest bunk house, around which he hurried so as to lose his identity in the crowd that was gathering.
Mr. Comstock was small, but he had a fierce look, with his white mustache and goatee, and bold features; only when his wife spoke was he ever known to tremble and throw out the white flag of surrender.
“Here, what’s all this mean?” he called out, sternly, as he came up. “Who brought these cattle back again? I want to thank him for it, no matter who says I hadn’t ought to,” with a quick, nervous glance behind him, though just at the moment the advancing figure of the woman was concealed by a group of interested cow-punchers.
And as he kept on advancing toward those who were seated in their saddles, the manager of the Bar-S Ranch suddenly looked into the face of Adrian Sherwood!
CHAPTER XVI.—A THREATENING STORM.
The fierce looking small man with the shock of white hair, and the air of a Buffalo Bill, stood there as though riveted to the spot, and stared at the smiling face of Adrian.
As a result of figuring things out the boy had come to the conclusion that his relative must be a victim of circumstances, and too much wife; therefore he was in a frame of mind not to judge him too harshly until he could get a grasp on the real situation.
And that was one reason why he smiled, and extended his hand. Besides, he had not forgotten that in times past he had been very fond of his mother’s only brother; and that indeed once the other had actually saved his life, when a crazed broncho had attacked the small lad in the corral, and would likely have trampled him underfoot only for the coming of Uncle Fred, who had seized upon the beast with his bare hands, and wrestled with him, until a puncher arrived and shot the animal dead.
“Hello! Uncle Fred! How are you?” called out Adrian, cheerily. “I just happened along in time to take back some of your stock that the rustlers had stampeded. You’re glad to see me, of course you are, even if the surprise is so great that you haven’t found a chance to say so yet.”
Then Uncle Fred beamed upon him, and rushing forward seized the outstretched hand eagerly. For the moment all else was forgotten save that he saw his nephew in the flesh before him, and the old affection again assumed sway.
“Adrian, my dear boy, is it really you?” he exclaimed, quivering all over with pleasure, as he wrung the hand of the boy; then like a flash some terrible thought seemed to fly through his mind, for he lost his color, and there came into his eyes a troubled look.
“Well, what I’ve been dreading for months has come on me at last,” he went on to say, with a gasp. “But all the same I’m glad to see you, glad that this agony of mind will now be over. But you will despise me, my boy, when you learn how I’ve lost all my independence. How has the mighty fallen, to be tied to the apron strings of a woman! Just this very day I had resolved after this last blow to end it all by flight. I believed I could not stand it any longer, and keep my mind. But your unexpected coming has changed all that; and now I’ll stick it out; yes, I’ll stay to give you an account of my unjust stewardship; and then gladly take the consequences, whatever they may be.”
He poured this out swiftly, in a low tone meant only for the ear of the boy who had by now jumped from his saddle, and was standing close beside his uncle.
Adrian was not in the least surprised. He had expected just this very thing, and the facts simply corroborated his suspicions.
How his old bachelor uncle had been coaxed into marrying, he could not understand, but it had happened; and evidently he had yoked up with a mind that was even stronger than his own. As constant dripping water will wear away a stone in time, so by degrees had Mr. Comstock come under the subjection of his wife. Doubtless he had rebelled fiercely at first, but slowly he had found himself compelled to give in, sometimes only after a pitched battle, until now much of his once vaunted bravery was gone, and in her presence he trembled.
It was almost pitiable, and Adrian felt very sorry for Uncle Fred. At the same time he was determined that he would not fall under the same sway; and that if it was at all possible he would oust this woman from the position she had assumed as boss of the manager of Bar-S Ranch.
“I think I understand it all, Uncle,” he said, hastily, yet with such a vein of sympathy in his voice that the man started, and seemed to catch a little new courage. “And while I’m here I mean to see if something can’t be done to remedy matters. By the greatest good luck in the world we managed to get back this bunch of cattle that was stolen last night. There were four of the rustlers in camp at Bittersweet Coulie; and only three of us boys, but we took them by surprise, made them prisoners, and here you see the missing herd, with only one steer lacking.”
Mr. Comstock’s eyes showed the astonishment he felt.
“You did all that, my dear Adrian, and you only three boys?” he ejaculated. “Well, the Sherwood blood will tell every time. I’m glad you’ve come, no matter what happens to me. It had got to the breaking point anyway, and tonight I meant to run away. Oh! what I have gone through with, nobody can ever know; but this marks the beginning of the end, I seem to feel it, and welcome it. When you kick us off the place perhaps she won’t want to cling to me any longer, and I will be free to go, and start afresh some place where they don’t know me. But introduce me to your friends, Adrian. I hope I haven’t sunk so low but that I’d be proud to shake the hands of such brave fellows.”
Poor old Uncle Fred was trying his best to appear something like himself; but it is very hard for a man who has been made the cringing slave of a virago to seem at all dignified; he was so in the habit of looking quickly around as though expecting a blow that it would have been comical had it not at the same time seemed quite sad, especially to Adrian, who had known how proud and consequential a strut Uncle Fred used to have in other days.
“This is my chum, Donald Mackay, about whom I’ve written you often,” the boy went on to say; “and this other is his cousin, Billie Winkle.”
Mr. Comstock gravely shook hands with each of them. He was not aware that from behind a bunch of the punchers his wife was watching them like a hawk, for she managed to keep herself concealed from view, while she listened and looked, evidently sizing the situation up, and deciding what all this row meant, with the missing herd back under the charge of a pack of strange punchers, too.
“I chanced to run across three cowboys who were out of employment, since the man they had worked for sold his ranch; and taking a fancy to the lot I engaged them to work for me. They are reliable, honest fellows, who will stand back of me; for I reckoned, you see, Uncle, that there might be a few punchers here that wouldn’t care to stay—after I came!”
He lowered his voice when saying this. Perhaps, after all, Adrian may have known of the presence of his uncle’s wife back of the group; or else he did not mean to let his plans be known to every Tom, Dick and Harry.
Apparently Mr. Comstock grasped the situation, reading between the lines. He must have known that there were employees on the ranch devoted more to the service of his wife, and her relatives, the Walkers, than they were to the interests of the owner of Bar-S; and that if Adrian meant to stay and assume charge of his own property he would have to fire these unworthy punchers the first thing.
How wise he had been then to make sure of having reliable fellows to step into the places that would thus be made vacant. Uncle Fred saw that the boy was surely able to plan, and also carry out his arrangements. It might be different when he found himself up against a woman’s wits; but he began to have hopes that the reign of petticoats was nearly at an end in connection with Bar-S Ranch.
The more the boy saw of his uncle the greater became his conviction that he had allowed these things to go on not because he was dishonest in the least; but that he had been brought in deadly fear of the woman who had become his wife.
Adrian was more bent than ever on changing all these things. He hoped that there would appear a way whereby he might buy the woman off; but if she refused to treat with him on these terms, then Uncle Fred too would also have to shake the dust of Bar-S Ranch off his boots, because the last bunch of cattle had been rustled from that place, Adrian felt sure.
“Later we’ll talk these matters all over, Uncle,” he went on to say; “and I’m hoping to see a way where everything can be arranged to bring back the old times again. Take courage, and perhaps everything will be well.”
The little man who had been such an aggressive character in his day, heaved a tremendous sigh.
“Oh! happy days they were; and do you know, Adrian, sometimes it seems to me a million years must have dragged by since then, I have suffered such torments, such shame. I was the greatest fool that ever walked on two legs. But she caught me by a smart trick, and almost before I knew it I was promising to love and cherish her for life, before a preacher. But oh! what a time I’ve had! It would have been bad enough with her vixenish temper; but when I learned that she was a sister to that rustler, Hatch Walker, it nearly finished me. Things have gone from bad to worse. She’s nearly killed me several times; and as I was just telling you, when I learned that a third bunch of cattle had disappeared last night; and she refused to let me go out in search of them with some of the boys, saying it was useless, I just made up my mind it was going to be three times and out for me. Then you came, and now the sky begins to lighten. Perhaps things will take a change. Perhaps even I may feel more like my old self again, and find it in me to defy her. Thank you over and over, my boy, for what you have said. Oh! I only hope you don’t fall under her influence the same way I did.”
“Don’t fear for me, Uncle Fred,” said the boy, in the same low tone the other had been using; “but we’ll soon see how things are going to turn out, for there she comes this way right now!”
“Oh! is that so?” said the manager of the ranch, with a sudden vibration in his voice; then, realizing that he had just been saying how brave he felt again, he seemed to pull himself together, drew his small but soldierly figure up straight in a sort of Napoleon-like attitude, Adrian thought, and with a white yet determined face awaited the breaking of the storm.
There were others among the cow-punchers who shrank back, rather appalled by the angry look on the strong features of the large woman who advanced straight toward the spot where her husband and the three boys stood. Donald found his attention attracted toward the corner of the near-by bunk house, and around which the man they had picked up on the trail was staring. And Donald must have concluded that Mr. Thomas was pretty much of a craven, despite all those stories he had told in connection with his past adventures “further south;” for there was certainly a look of extreme fear written large upon his wrinkled face right then and there, as though he might have known himself what it was to be domineered over by a husky female, and the sight of Mrs. Fred’s flushed face and sparkling eyes brought up very unpleasant memories in the old chap’s mind.
CHAPTER XVII.—ADRIAN TAKES THE REINS.
“Who might these boys be, Fred?”
The woman asked this question with a lofty air, as she arrived close to where the three chums now stood, holding the bridles of their horses.
“This is my nephew, Adrian Sherwood, who as you know, Josie, is the owner of Bar-S Ranch; and these are his friends, Donald Mackay, about whom he has often written to me, and Billie Winkle,” Mr. Comstock hastened to say, though it could be seen that he had to summon all his resolution to the fore in order to keep his voice firm.
She looked the three over from head to foot, and in particular Adrian. Evidently Mrs. Fred scented trouble, since the young owner of the ranch that was being systematically robbed by her blood relatives had come on the ground. But she was game, and scorned to show the white feather, though she may have suspected that this marked the beginning of the end of the reign of Hatch Walker and his crowd in that favored section.
“I happened to hear something that was said as I came up,” she went on to remark, caustically; “it was about their recovering the cattle that wandered away last night. So you see your fears were useless after all. You always worry over things without any reason, just like an old fool would.”
“But it happened, my dear,” Uncle Fred spoke up, “that in this case the rustlers did carry off the herd; for Adrian and his chums made four of them prisoners, and recovered the cattle at Bittersweet Coulie.”
“What’s that you’re telling me?” she demanded, scornfully; “three half-grown boys capture four husky rustlers. More than likely they found the cattle astray, and are playing a joke on you by telling such a story as this,” and the laugh that accompanied these words made Billie shiver as though a sudden draught from the Artic regions had struck him in the back.
“Perhaps we did dream it,” chuckled Adrian; “but if so, it’s queer how we came to get it in our heads that one of the stampeders was named Tad Whiffles, another Corney, and still a third Bemis. But no matter, madam, we did bring the cattle back, and here they are, safe and sound. Uncle Fred is delighted with such good luck; and of course you must be the same.”
The woman was looking at him keenly. Perhaps she realized that this was no ordinary boy, whom she could badger in the same way she had his uncle. The mentioning of those three names, which of course she recognized as belonging to punchers in her brother’s employ, told her that they must indeed have done all they claimed; and such boys who did things were certainly to be looked on with respect. Still she was not ready to abdicate the position she had held so long.
She turned on Uncle Fred, as though pretty sure of a cringing victim there.
“Who are these three strange riders I see? Did they help drive the lost herd home? When have you taken to hiring new hands without consulting me? Didn’t we settle that matter once for all months ago?”
The manager of Bar-S Ranch stood his ground. He had summoned the last vestige of his former resolution to the front, and seemed ready to try conclusions with the wife of his bosom again, perhaps for the last time.
“I have had nothing to do with hiring them, my dear,” he said, firmly. “Adrian made all arrangements himself, and you know, as he is the sole owner of the ranch, what he says goes. He thought there would be several of our boys who might not wish to remain, and work under him; and so he brought these new hands along to take their places when they were paid off.”
She looked as black as midnight at that. Donald, watching closely, realized that Mrs. Fred must guess that they understood how matters were, and had come prepared to oust her crowd, even if they had to include Uncle Fred and herself.
“Oh! that’s how the land lies, is it?” she went on to say, bitterly. “Well, apparently your fine nephew must have forgotten that your contract reads you are to have three months’ notice before you can be displaced. And as we hold the reins for that length of time, you’ll continue to do the engaging and discharging. Those new hands will have to clear out, for not a dollar of pay will they get here, or a single meal, if I can help it.”
Mr. Comstock’s lower jaw fell. He stared helplessly first at the aggressive woman and then toward his nephew. Evidently she had “taken the wind from his sails” completely by this sudden assertion, and he did not know what to say.
But Adrian was equal to the emergency. He never lost his temper in the least degree as he waited until he caught the angry eye of Mrs. Fred.
“What you say about the contract is very true, so far as it goes, Aunt Josie,” he observed, steadily; “but you forget evidently that it also reads that in case I wish to change managers I am to give three months’ notice, or else pay Uncle Fred that much salary in lieu of said notice. Here is the amount in this roll of bills, which, when he accepts, will constitute the change, so that he will no longer hold the position of manager of the Bar-S Ranch.”
He held out the money toward the little man. As he did so the woman gave a loud and ominous cry.
“Refuse to take it, Fred; don’t you dare touch his money!” she demanded, furiously. “If you decline to take it he’ll have to let you stay the three months out, don’t you see, you idiot?”
Perhaps that last part of her speech brought the man to a realization of the humiliating fact that there were numerous spectators to his being henpecked. At any rate Uncle Fred gritted his teeth, and stretching out his hand, took the money deliberately from Adrian. With a flash of his old independence he immediately held it up and said in a loud voice:
“Everybody take notice that I’ve accepted the pay for three months in advance from my nephew, and in so doing I sever all my connection with the Bar-S Ranch as manager.”
With that he contemptuously threw the roll of money at the feet of his wife. She looked at first as though she could tear him to pieces. Then, unable to resist the lure of the ready cash she stooped down and picked the three months’ salary up.
“Perhaps you think that this closes the house to Fred and me!” she snapped, turning on Adrian furiously; “but you have another guess coming, boy! You’re pretty young to meddle with the business of grown men; and there may be snarls about our affairs that’ll be harder to unravel than just tying up four drunken cattle rustlers, and bringing back the stock they’d run off. If you came here to make war on a woman, you’re bound to get your fill before it’s all over. And you’ll find that I’m not without friends who’ll see me get my rights. That’s all I’ve got to say to you; but there’ll be another chapter to this story, don’t forget that!”
She flung these bitter words at Adrian as though each one had a poisonous sting with which she meant to inflict pain upon him. Undoubtedly Aunt Josie did not intend to welcome her husband’s nephew in any hearty fashion to his ranch which he had not seen for some years, and which she had of late come to look upon as more or less her individual property, to be looted at will by her rapacious relatives.
She started to walk away, her head held high in the air, and as Adrian thought with the bearing of an angry empress. Her high and lofty manner must have struck some of the cowboys as ludicrous. She had rubbed it into them on numerous occasions, and naturally they glorified in her apparent downfall. One of them gave a low mocking laugh. Instantly the woman whirled around, and her eyes seemed to fairly blaze as she surveyed the group.
“Who laughed then?” she demanded; but no one answered, though several shrank back appalled; and Donald saw the man in hiding behind the bunk house, Mr. Thomas, draw his head in much after the manner of a tortoise when danger approaches.
“Cowards, all of you!” she went on to say, in a harsh tone; “you can insult a woman behind her back, but not one of you is man enough to acknowledge a little thing like that. Never mind, it won’t be long before I’ll be in a position to hold the whip hand, and then we’ll see who stays and who goes. As for you, Fred Comstock, just wait, that’s all!”
This time when she walked toward the ranch house not a sound broke out. Uncle Fred turned a troubled face toward his nephew.
“I wouldn’t dare be left alone with her again after this for a king’s ransom, and that’s the truth, Adrian,” he said, slowly. “Perhaps, since I’m discharged from my position here, I ought to clear out right away before night. It looks cowardly, but there’s no other safety for me, I candidly admit.”
“No, don’t hurry about going, Uncle,” remonstrated Adrian, taking him aside so he could speak without others hearing, for he knew that some of the punchers had not been looking on him with friendly eyes; and these must be the men who were hand in glove with Hatch Walker and his sister, the wife of Uncle Fred.
“But my usefulness here has all departed, and why should I linger?” urged the despondent ex-manager.
“You don’t know what may happen yet, and if we have trouble with those Walkers you may get a chance to retrieve some of the blunders of the past year,” the boy went on to say, laying a hand affectionately on his uncle’s sleeve, for the other was shaking his head sadly in the negative as though he could not see a gleam of light in the overcast sky. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you that we met up with Frank Bowker, the puncher you sent to town on an errand; and I entrusted him with a note to the new sheriff, demanding that he gather a reliable posse at once and ride out to the Bar-S Ranch, because a fight was on with the rustler gang of Walkers, and we meant to settle this thing once and for all. That blot has been on this county far too long, and he must know it. So you see, Uncle Fred, after all this storm may clear the air; and when it passes by perhaps you may be glad to take up the reins here again as manager for me!”
The man looked at him with tears in his eyes, so greatly was he affected by this show of confidence in him. He seized hold of Adrian’s hand, and squeezed it in an almost frenzied fashion, while he went on to say in a tone husky with emotion:
“What you say sounds too good to ever come true, son; because, you see, I’m her husband through thick and thin, because the law made me so; and where I am she has a right to be also. No, I must go away and try to start fresh somewhere else. But,” he added, while the old fighting spirit flashed into his blue eyes once more; “if you think there’s going to be war with the Walker tribe before this thing’s threshed out, why, I might defer my going till it’s all over, and the returns in. If so be I got a chance to settle my differences with that lawless brother of hers, Hatch Walker, I’d feel easier in my mind, anyhow, so I’ll try and hang out yet awhile, Adrian, my boy!”