CHAPTER IV
WHEN THE RUSTLERS CAME
Bob Archer always believed that he made record time in getting dressed that night. Just how long it took him he never knew; but Frank seemed to vie with him in speed, for they rushed out together.
One glance overhead told Frank that it was not far from morning. The position of the moon in the sky gave the prairie boy that information. Possibly Bob would never had thought of looking aloft, had he wished to know how the night was passing. All his life he had depended on watches and clocks, which might go wrong; whereas Frank’s celestial timepiece was always trustworthy.
There certainly was much excitement about the ranch buildings just then.
Cow punchers, half dressed, were pouring out of the bunk-house, shouting, everyone according to his taste. Like Bob, most of them believed that the alarm must mean that a fire had broken out, and quick work would be needed to get the flames under control.
Their astonishment at not discovering a red glare would have been amusing, only that the two saddle boys realized the occasion must be serious.
Above all the other sounds the voice of Colonel Haywood could be heard. He was on the piazza of the ranch house, and calling to the men to come to him.
Immediately there seemed to be half a score of cowboys gathering around just below where the stockman stood. Evidently the Colonel, too, had been suddenly aroused from sleep, for he was only partly dressed.
Frank could not remember ever having seen his father so alarmed. Perhaps by this time Frank was able to give half a guess as to the cause for the commotion. In this he was aided by the fact that his father was not alone. Seated in one of the easy chairs was a figure. It was that of a man, and Frank felt sure he could recognize Andy Lane, one of the cow punchers who had been left out on the range as a night wrangler, to watch the herds that were quartered miles away from the big corral.
Something, then, must evidently have happened to bring Andy home. He undoubtedly brought serious news that had inflamed the mind of the usually cool rancher, and would account for his excited manner.
Frank looked further. He was accustomed to seeing things that might escape many another, less observing. To his mind Andy was breathing very hard, and he looked as though he might have passed through a recent disturbance of some sort.
Immediately the boy remembered the conversation he had had with his father concerning a possible descent of the rustlers on one of their choice herds. Had such a catastrophe really happened? Would that account for the disturbed appearance of the cowboy who had been left out on the range to watch the cattle?
“What is it, Colonel?” demanded one of the assembled punchers.
“We’re all here, and we want to know!” called another eagerly.
“That’s Andy, boys, a-settin’ thar; an’ he looks mighty bad used up!” shouted a third; at which deep murmurs arose, as a suspicion of the truth began to break in upon the minds of the wild riders of the range.
“They’ve come down on us at last, boys,” said Colonel Haywood, trying to master his emotion, though Frank could detect an unaccustomed tremor in his voice, and saw that his face was white with suppressed passion.
“The rustlers!”
Those two words seemed to start at one end of the semi-circle, and pass along from mouth to mouth. There was a bitterness in the way they were spoken, which told better than anything else how deep was the detestation the Circle cowboys entertained for the stealers of horses and cattle.
“Mendoza and his crowd have been on the watch,” continued the stockman; “and saw that we were in the prize class this fall, with the best herds. They waited for the right time to strike. Another night, and our herds would have been safe in the big corral up to the time of the round-up. Mendoza knew all about it. He must have had word from some spy who visits around the ranches. And he got what he came after, boys!”
A chorus of angry exclamations interrupted the stockman.
He held up his hand to signal for silence again, and then went on:
“You know that Andy was left in charge of the pick of our stock this night, out on the best grass, with Clem Stiles to help. He rapped on the window of my room, and woke me up. He was covered with dust and blood. Before he said a single word I just knew what had happened. Before Andy had half told me I was dressed, and ringing the alarm bell. Andy, speak up and let the boys know what dropped down on you!”
The dilapidated figure that had been lying back in the chair managed to struggle to his feet. Although he had been badly used, Andy was still full of grit. It takes a good deal to put a genuine cowboy down for good.
“They sneaked in on us all right, boys,” he said; “never would ’a thought it could ’a been played on me thataways; but they sure caught us ’a nappin’. First thing we knowed we was pounced on by a bunch of fellers that had ther handkerchiefs tied ’round the lower part of their faces. We kicked good and hard, me an’ Clem, but what was the use? They was four to one agin us, and it wa’n’t long before we was both done up.”
“Did ye know any of ’em, Andy?” called out Ted Conway.
“Nary a one,” replied the other; “’cause you see it was only moonlight, and them rags over their faces did the business. Besides, we was hurted a heap by the time the racket was over. They tied us like a couple of roped steers, and left us lie there, not carin’ whether we bleeded to death or not.”
“Then they ran the stock away, did they, Andy?” asked one of the listeners.
“We heard ’em get busy, while we wrestled with the ropes,” continued the other. “They’d taken our guns along, and our hosses, too. As we laid thar we could hear the herd get under way. And the style them rustlers did things, it was clean easy to see every one of ’em had been a honest cow puncher in his time. Reckon that in less’n half an hour arter we was keeled over, I heard the last of the hoofs of the herd pass away.”
“How long ago was that, Andy?” asked the Colonel.
“Must a been ’bout midnight when they kim down on us, sir,” replied the other.
“And then what did you and Clem do?” pursued the stockman, who was by degrees becoming more collected, as he realized that if ever he needed a cool head the time was now.
“I was workin’ like a house afire to git my hands loose, Colonel,” Andy continued. “Clem, I knowed, was hurted worse nor me, for he said he believed his ankle must a been broke. Once I couldn’t get him to answer, an’ then I reckoned as how poor Clem had fainted from the pain.”
“You got loose in the end, Andy?”
“I sure did, after workin, it seemed, for hours. Clem was able to talk again; but after I managed to get his rope off, an’ stood him up, we seen it was no go. He couldn’t walk a step. So I says as how I’d have to make the run in alone. I reckon I must a lost some blood myself. Don’t know what else made me feel so weak every little while. Must a took me a coon’s age to git here. Sorry I couldn’t ’a done it better, but——”
Colonel Haywood was just in time to catch the falling figure of Andy. The poor fellow was indeed so weakened from all he had gone through, besides the loss of blood from his several wounds, that he had fainted.
No shouts arose from the gathered cowboys. Their feelings were too deep just then for utterance. As the late vidette was carried into the ranch house, the employees of Circle Ranch clustered there, talking in low but significant tones.
“Get in and finish dressing,” said Bart Heminway, the energetic foreman. “Then come back here again to take orders. And be sure you carry plenty of ammunition. It may be needed before we’re through with this business. For, take it from me, boys, the Circle Ranch is a-goin’ to get back that herd, if Pedro Mendoza has to be chased away down across the border into Mexico.”
Frank and Bob followed suit. When they came out again, bearing their repeating rifles, and dressed for a long ride, they found every fellow once more on the spot, only waiting for the Colonel to say the word.
“No need of any hurry, boys,” said the stockman, who had evidently been making his plans while completing his own dressing. “They can’t get that herd away as fast as we can follow. First it’s our duty to bring in the other two herds, and make sure of ’em.”
“That’s right, Colonel,” called one cowboy; “nice joke it’d be on us to have ’em drop down and get the rest of the stock while we was ridin’ ’round lookin’ for signs.”
“Then get away, and see that every animal is safe in the big corral by morning. Afterward we’ll settle on our plan. And rest easy, boys, this time nothing is going to keep us from running down Mendoza’s rustlers! They believe they’ll be able to hoodwink us again; but wait and see. Perhaps they can; but the pitcher may go to the well once too often. So can Mendoza. Success has made him bold. We must clips his wings, boys!”
At that sort of talk a cheer burst forth from the Circle riders. They already knew their part in the drive, and while about half of them galloped after the foreman, the others followed Ted Conway in an opposite direction.