CHAPTER VII.
EXCITEMENT ON THE RIVER.
The Banded Seven were having a first-rate time just then. In the first place, they were returning in triumph from a daring venture, about which to tell the angry cadets next morning was a delight to look forward to. Then, besides, Master Dewey had hit upon a scheme for their edification. Indian, the fat boy, so Dewey vowed, was taking up more room and sinking the boat more than anybody else. It was only fair that Indian should be made to row. That terrible sentence was now being carried into effect, and poor Indian was in the last stages of perspiration and exhaustion, when the shores of the river echoed with the shouts of encouragement from the others.
It was because they were making so much noise that they did not at first perceive the excitement that was taking place on shore. They heard the roar of the train as it came through the tunnel, and they watched it whirl from the station and around a bend in the river. But Smithers and his circus hands they did not observe for a long time after that. They were too busy exhorting poor Indian.
By the time that buffalo had been in the water some ten minutes, however, the crowd had increased in number to a mob, and then all the Banded Seven’s hilarity could not drown their shouts. The rowing stopped abruptly, and the plebes turned in surprise and alarm to stare at the spectators who lined the shore, just barely visible in the half-hidden moonlight. And a moment later a loud snort and a splash was heard in the water very near them.
Mr. Smithers’ buffalo had not quite calculated on the size of that river, and he was beginning to get tired. He dared not go back to the shore, and so when he made out a black object in front he made for that in a hurry. The object was the Banded Seven’s boat!
The state of mind of the latter may be imagined. They saw the crowd; and they heard them shouting warnings to “Look out!”
“It’s something from the circus!” cried Mark. “Something’s got away!”
“Row for your lives!” roared the people on the shore.
All possibility of that was gone, however, for the simple reason that the rower, the timid and terrified Indian, had dropped his oars into the water, leaped up from his seat and began to howl. The others, uncertain as to what the rapidly approaching animal could be, only added to the excitement. Texas at the first shout had hauled out a huge revolver and was standing in the bow with a desperately tragic air ready for anything in the whole realm of nature.
“Oo-oo!” howled Indian. “It’s the elephant!”
That caused still more alarm, so that the heavily-weighted old boat began to ship water rapidly. But just then the suspense was ended by the moon’s appearance from behind a cloud; that showed them the huge buffalo, a sight by no means comforting, even if it was better than an elephant run amuck.
The bull was a huge one even if he was thin; he swam with his head way out of the water, tossing his shaggy mane angrily. Having been hunted and shouted at for some time, the ugly beast was beginning to get mad now, and his little eyes were gleaming.
When he saw the boat and its crowd he turned and started away with all his might; for he saw in them only new enemies trying to capture him. At that the plebes sighed with relief, you may readily imagine. They were helpless prisoners on that boat, and if the bull had come for them they would have been in danger. The danger was past now.
There was one factor, however, that the Seven had not counted on. They forgot that they had a wild Texas cowboy on board, a cowboy with “sporting blood” and a tendency to hunt for excitement. Nobody had been watching Texas since that bull hove in sight. Nobody saw that he was dancing about, his fingers twitching and his eyes sparkling. Nobody had seen him thrust the revolver into his belt and begin fumbling about his waist.
Nobody saw him fling his favorite “rope” to the breeze and begin to whirl it about his head. The first inkling they had of any danger was when to their indescribable horror they saw the noose sail through the air, hovering and twisting; saw it settle comfortably about the huge beast’s neck; and saw the mighty Texan yank it tight with a whoop of triumph.
Things happened after that. Those on shore could not make out just what, though the moon was still bright, but they saw the occupants of the boat rush forward into the bow and a moment later saw the boat whirl around and set out down stream in pursuit of the buffalo, seemingly propelled by some magic hand.
It was exciting for the Banded Seven. The bull was wild with fury, and was plunging through the water at a great rate. Texas had wrapped the rope about the bow, and was playing his fish something after the fashion of the lineman in a whaleboat. As for the boat itself, it was mostly under water, splashing and plunging dangerously. But Texas didn’t care for that; he only yelled the louder and scared his prisoner into still greater exertions.
The others who were not quite so much infected with the excitement, looked to see their heavily-laden boat founder any moment. Mark even went so far as to inquire who could swim, a question which set poor Indian (who couldn’t) into howls; Indian was sure that his time had come; that the others (who could) would go off and leave him to perish beneath the gurgling black water. He took a preliminary hold on the Parson’s coat tails to make sure that he was not deserted.
The interesting trip did not last very long, however, for the simple reason that the buffalo got tired. His speed relaxed, and finally he stopped entirely and turned around to glare at the boat and his captors who were in it. Texas, without a word, removed the rope from where he had fastened it, and calmly proceeded to haul the animal in. He didn’t pay a bit of attention to the remonstrances of the others, whose aim it was to keep the creature away; Texas was managing this, he told them, and he was going to finish that job if he had to drown the buffalo and them, too.
Nearer and nearer came the savage beast, bellowing furiously, churning the water all about him, and shaking his head like an angry pickerel might do under similar circumstances. There was never a fisherman cooler than Texas, however, and there were few of them ever caught a stranger fish.
Texas was handicapped, however, by the fact that though he had plenty of strength to draw his prize to him, he had none to keep it away. And the whole business failed because of that. When the bull got within a few feet of the boat he lowered his head and made one more dash. This time he rushed toward the boat instead of away, and he met with more success.
The Seven scattered to the bow and stern when they saw their danger; an instant later one of the sharp horns of the enraged creature struck the side and crushed through the wood with a snap, keeling the boat over and sending its occupants flying through the air. And that was the last the shouting spectators on the shore could see, for the clouds swept over the moon again, and nothing was audible but the hoarse bellows of the buffalo and a few smothered cries from the water.