Oh, You Tex!

by William MacLeod Raine

  CHAPTER XX

  KIOWAS ON THE WARPATH

  Jack Roberts did not leave town inconspicuously with his prisoner in themiddle of the night. He made instead a public exit, for Captain Ellisonwanted to show the Panhandle that the law could reach out and get theDinsmores just as it could any other criminals. With his handcuffedcaptive on a horse beside him, the Ranger rode down to the post-officejust before the stage left. Already the word had spread that one of theDinsmores had been taken by an officer. Now the town gathered to see thenotorious "bad-man" and his tamer.

  Dinsmore faced the curious crowd with a defiant sneer, but he wasburning with rage and humiliation. He and his crowd had carried thingswith a high hand. They were not only outlaws; they were "bad-men" in thefrontier sense of the word. They had shot down turbulent citizens whodisputed their sway. Pete and Homer especially had won reputations askillers, and game men sidestepped them rather than deny their claims.Yet twice within a month this smooth-faced boy had crossed their pathand bested them. The pride of Homer Dinsmore was galled to the quick. Hewould have given all he had to "get a lick at" the Ranger now beforeall these people.

  Tascosa watched the young officer and his captive from a distance. Thetownsfolk offered no audible comment on the situation, either by way ofapproval or disapproval. The fear of the outlaws had been too long overthem. This was not the end of the matter. It was still a good bettingproposition that some one of the gang would "get" this jaunty youthbefore he was much older.

  But it is certain that the arrest he had made single-handed had itseffect. It is inevitable that a frontier camp shall some day discard itswild youth and put on the sobriety of a settled community. Was this timeat hand for the Panhandle?

  A rider galloped out of town after the horsemen. The Ranger turned toface him and made sure that the rifle beneath his leg would slip easilyfrom its scabbard. An attempt at a rescue was always a possibility onthe cards.

  The man drew his cow-pony up beside them.

  "'Evenin', Mr. Man-in-a-Hurry. Lookin' for anybody in particular?" askedthe red-haired Ranger, his chill eyes fixed on the stranger.

  "For you. I want to help guard your prisoner to Mobeetie."

  "Much obliged," answered Roberts dryly. "Am I needin' help?"

  "You may. You've got to sleep. Let me ride with you."

  The brain of Jack Roberts began to register a memory. This young fellowwas in ragged jeans and a butternut shirt. His hair was long andunkempt. He looked haggard and ill-fed. But he was the same youth theRanger had glimpsed for a moment in the bravery of fine clothes and gayaddress on the day of the bulldogging. Jack remembered his promise toRamona Wadley.

  "Fine! Come along. We'll take watch and watch through the night," hetold the boy.

  Homer Dinsmore's teeth drew back in a derisive snarl. "Want companyagain on the trip so's you won't be robbed, Mr. Ridley?"

  The Easterner did not answer, but color flushed his face at the taunt.

  Roberts offered a comment on his behalf:

  "Ridley was young then. He's gettin' older every day. I notice he didn'task for company when he flung himself down over Clint Wadley's body toprotect it from the bullets of a killer."

  All afternoon they followed the Canadian River as it wound to the east.They made camp beside it at night, cooking the coffee on a fire ofbuffalo chips. Jerked beef and hardtack, washed down with coffee, wastheir fare.

  Dinsmore had fallen into a sullen silence, but the other two carried ondesultory talk. The two young fellows were not very comfortable in eachother's society; they did not understand the mental habits of eachother. But Jack maintained a cheerful friendliness to which Arthurresponded gratefully. Behind the curtain of their talk was a girl. Thespell of her was on them both. Each of them could see her in the coalsof the fire, light-footed and slim, with shy eyes tender and shining.But neither of them drew the curtain to their deeper thoughts.

  After they had eaten, the Ranger handcuffed his prisoner and pegged himdown loosely. He put out the fire, for he did not want the location ofthe camp to be betrayed by smoke. He gave Ridley the firstwatch--because it was the easier of the two. With a saddle for a pillowand a slicker for a blanket, he lay down beneath the stars and fellasleep. Once, in his dreams, he thought he heard the sound of beatingdrums. When he wakened at the time set, the night was still. Theprisoner was sound asleep, and Ridley, propped against his saddle, waskeeping vigilant watch.

  Robert mentioned his fancy about the drums.

  Arthur smiled. "Before Dinsmore turned over he was snoring like afar-away thunder-storm. I expect that's what you heard."

  Jack roused the others as soon as the promise of day was in the sky. Bysunup they were ready to travel.

  There was a bluff back of the camp that gave an outlook over thecountry. The Ranger left his prisoner in the care of Arthur while heclimbed to its summit for a glance up and down the river. He knew thatthe Mexican girl would get word to the friends of her sweetheart that hehad been arrested. There was a chance that they might already be close.Anyhow, it would do no harm to see. If he had not taken that precautionundoubtedly all three of the party would have been dead inside of halfan hour.

  For the first sweeping glance of the Ranger showed him a tragedy. Thevalley was filled with Indians. Apparently as yet they did not know thatany white men were in the neighborhood, for the smoke was beginning torise from morning fires. In a little pocket, just off from the camp,their ponies were herded. At the opposite side were a dozen ox-wagonsgrouped together in a circle to form a corral. The tongue of the nearestwagon was propped up by a yoke, and across it was the naked body of aman who had been crucified and tortured. The other drivers of thefreight outfit were nowhere in sight. Either they were lying dead behindthe wagons, or they had escaped on horseback.

  The Ranger drew back at once from the bluff. He knew that probably hehad been seen by the Indian lookouts; if he and his party were going toget away, it must be done quickly. He ran down the hill to hiscompanions.

  "Indians--Kiowas--hundreds of them," he explained. "They've captured afreight outfit and killed the drivers. We'll cross the river below theircamp if we can." As he spoke, he was busy unlocking the handcuffs of theprisoner. To Dinsmore he gave a revolver.

  It seemed to Ridley that his heart was pumping water. Death with torturewas the punishment given captives by the plains Indians. He knew he mustbe ghastly white, but he said nothing.

  The three men rode out of the ravine to the river. Already they couldhear the yelling of the Kiowas a few hundred yards above. A moment laterthey caught sight of the savages pouring down the bank. Those in frontwere on foot. Others farther back, on the round-bellied Indian ponies,were galloping to catch up.

  Half a mile farther down, there was a break in the river-bank whichoffered a better chance for crossing. The stream there broadened, cut intwo by a little island. The three riders gained on their pursuers.Bullets whistled past them, but they did not stop to exchange shots.When they reached the place Jack had chosen to cross, they were four orfive hundred yards ahead of the leading Indians.

  They splashed into the water. Here it was shallow, but along the edge ofthe island the current was running swift. The Kiowas, following thefugitives down the bank, kept up a scattering fire. The bullets struckthe water on all sides of the three moving targets. Arthur was on theright, closest to the Indians. A little ahead of him was Dinsmore.Farther over, the Ranger's horse was already breasting the deep water.

  Roberts heard young Ridley cry: "He's hit!"

  The Ranger turned his head. His prisoner was sagging in the saddle.Arthur was riding beside the wounded man and trying to support him.

  Jack drew up his horse, holding it strongly against the current, untilthe others were abreast of him.

  "We've got to swim for it," he called across to Ridley. "I'll get him ifhe slips out of the saddle before we reach shore."

  The horses swam side by side. Roberts encouraged Dinsmore, riding kneeto knee with him. "Just a little way now. St
ick it out.... We're rightclose to the bank.... Grab the horn tight."

  As Dinsmore slid into the water Jack caught him by the hair of the head.The swift water, racing fast round the shoulder of the island, tuggedmightily at him. But the body of the Ranger's horse was a barrier tokeep the unconscious man from being swept downstream, and the fingers ofthe rider clung to the thick black hair like steel clamps.

  They reached shallow water. The Ranger swung from the saddle and carriedDinsmore up through the thicket that edged the bank. The horsesclambered up without guidance, and Ridley drove them into the big rocks,where they would be better protected from the shots of the Indians.

  The Ranger chose the best cover available near the head of the islandand put the wounded man down gently on the ground. Already the Kiowaswere halfway across the river. Jack counted twenty of them on horsebackin the water.

  "Can you shoot?" he asked his companion.

  Ridley was behind a rock around which bushes grew thick. "B-better thanI could." He was shaking with excitement.

  "You can't miss 'em. We've got 'em right this time."

  Jack fired. An Indian plunged headfirst into the water like a stone froma sling. A moment later his body could be seen swirling in the swiftcurrent. A second shot shook the death scream from the throat of anotherbrave.

  Twice Arthur missed.

  "You've got buck-fever. Try for the horses," suggested the Texan. Amoment later he gave a little whoop of encouragement. The naked shiningbody of a Kiowa had collapsed on the bare back of a pony. Ridley at lasthad scored.

  Instantly the nervousness of the Easterner disappeared. His shooting hadnot the deadly accuracy of Roberts, but he was a good marksman, and atthis close-range work his forty-five-seventy did clean work.

  The Texan did not miss a shot. He picked the leaders and took his time.A third, a fourth, and a fifth brave went sliding from the backs of theswimming ponies.

  The Kiowas broke under the deadly fire. Those not yet in the deep waterturned and made for the shore from which they had come. The others gavewith the current and drifted past the island, their bodies hanging fromthe far side of the ponies.

  The whites on the island shot at the horses. More than one redskin,unable to get out of the current after his pony had been shot, floateddown the river for miles before the body was found by his tribe.

  "We got either nine or ten," said the Ranger. "They'll never try anotherattack from that bank. Probably they'll surround the island to starveus."

  He put down his rifle and opened the shirt of the wounded man. Dinsmorehad been shot in the back, above the heart. Jack washed out the woundand bound it up as best he could. The outlaw might live, or he mightnot--assuming that the party would escape from the savages.

  Jack knew that this was an assumption not likely to be fulfilled. Hisguess was that there were four or five hundred of the Kiowas. Theywould immediately post a line of guards on both sides of the river.There was a chance that a man on a fast horse might make a get-away ifhe left at once. He proposed to Ridley that he try this.

  "Will you go too?" asked Arthur.

  The Ranger shook his head. "Got to stay with my prisoner."

  "I'll stay too."

  "If you were to make it, you could send me help."

  "Think I could get away?"

  The Westerner pointed to two Indians who were swimming the river belowout of rifle-shot. "I doubt it. You might fight yore way through, butthey'd likely get you."

  "I'll stick it out here, then."

  In his heart Arthur knew that he was not staying to face the danger withthe Texan. When once he had got over his panic, he had fought coollyenough under the eye of his companion, but he lacked the stark courageto face the chances of that long ride alone for help.

  "I reckon it's too late, anyhow," agreed Roberts. He shrugged hisshoulders. "It's a toss-up, either way. But we'll sure send a few totheir happy hunting-grounds before we take our long journey."

  "You think--" Arthur let his fear-filled eyes finish the question.

  The Ranger smiled wryly. "Yore guess is as good as mine. I'll say this:I've been in tight holes before an' came through O. K. I'll back my luckto stand up this time too."

  Arthur looked into the brown face of this spare, clear-eyed youth andfelt that he would give his hopes of heaven for such gameness. They hadnot one chance in ten thousand to escape, but the sheer nerve of the boyheld him as cool and easy as though he were sauntering down the mainstreet at Clarendon.