Oh, You Tex!
Page 22
CHAPTER XXI
TEX TAKES A LONG WALK
Except for desultory firing the Kiowas left the islanders alone for therest of the day. The fever of the wounded man mounted. Most of the timehe was out of his head, and in tossing to and fro was continuallydisturbing the cold-water bandages applied by the Texan.
As soon as night had fallen, Roberts put a proposition to his companion."One of us has got to go for help. Take yore choice, Ridley. Will you goor stay?"
The Easterner felt as though his heart had been drenched in ice-water."Can't we wait until some one comes?" he asked timidly.
"Who's likely to come? You got any friends on the way? I haven't.There's another thing: the stage will be along to-morrow. We've got toget warnin' to it that the Kiowas are on the warpath. If we don't--well,you know what happened to the freight outfit."
"If one of us goes, how can he get away?"
"I've thought of that. It will be dark for an hour before the moon getsup. The one that goes will have to drop off the bank an' swim down withthe current for a quarter of a mile or so, then get to the shore, crawlacross the prairie till he's clear of the sentries, an' make a bee-linefor Tascosa."
"I couldn't find my way in the dark," faltered Arthur.
Jack nodded. "I doubt if you could. I'm elected, then."
"Why--why can't we both go?"
"We couldn't take Dinsmore fifty yards. He's too sick a man."
"He's going to die anyhow. If I stay, we'll both die--horribly. It'severy man for himself now."
Jack shook his head. "If you feel that way, you go an' I'll stay."
"I--I can't go alone." He pushed his plea one step farther. "He's acriminal--a murderer. He'd kill you if he could, and he's alreadybetrayed me. There's no call for us to wait for certain death on hisaccount."
The Ranger spoke gently. "None for you, but he's in my hands. I'll seeit out. Mebbe you can get through the lines. Crawl through the grass.Keep yore nerve an' lie low if you hear 'em comin'. Once you're through,you'll be all right."
"I tell you I can't go alone. If it has to be that one goes and onestays, then I'll stay."
"That's how it has to be. It's about an even break, I reckon. They'reliable to get me if I go. They're liable to get you if you stay. Thenagain, they're liable to get neither of us if I can get through."
"What if they rush me?"
"Don't lose yore head. You can stand 'em off. They'll never make asstrong an attack as they did this mo'nin'. If they make any real rush,it will likely be just before daybreak. Indians don't do business atnight."
Jack made his preparations swiftly. He took off his boots and tied themto his belt. His hat he left behind.
"How will I know whether you get through the sentries?" asked Ridley.
"If you hear any shootin', you'll know I probably didn't. But I'm surefigurin' on gettin' through. Don't you forget for a minute that everyhour brings help nearer. So long, old man. Best of luck!"
The Ranger grinned cheerfully at the other boy as he crept into thebrush at the edge of the water. Presently Arthur heard a faint _plop_and knew that the Texan had begun his journey.
The swift current carried the swimmer downstream rapidly. He used hisarms just enough to keep himself up, and let the power of the water dothe rest. As a small boy he had lived on the Brazos. He knew the tricksof the expert, so that he was able now to swim with only his noseshowing. For it was certain that the Indians had set watchers on theriver to guard against an escape.
The island vanished behind him. Now and then he caught from one bank orthe other the glow of camp-fires. Once he was sure he heard the beatingof a tom-tom.
And once he gave himself up for lost. The rapid current had swept himclose to the right bank. Across his vision flashed a picture of a bravearmed with bow and arrow standing above him on the shore. He divedinstantly. When he came up for air, only a bit of his red topknotshowed. The swimmer heard the twang of an arrow and dived a second time.He was in the deep shadows of overhanging brush when he shook the waterout of his eyes next time. For a dozen seconds he drew his breath infear. But there came no shout of warning to other watchers, no shot oroutcry to shatter the stillness. He guessed that the Kiowa had taken himfor a log drifting downstream and had aimed wantonly to test hisaccuracy.
Several hundred yards below the island Jack caught at a bush projectinginto the water. He swung close to the bank and very cautiously drewhimself out of the river.
He listened. Except for the sound of the rushing water the night wasstill. Very carefully he wormed his way forward into the prairie. Hisprogress was slow, for he had to make sure of each foot of his advance.Under cover of a mesquite-bush he put on his water-soaked boots. Hecrept fifty yards--one hundred. To his right a camp-fire was burning. Itseemed to him once or twice that he heard voices.
An old trail worn nearly a foot deep by buffaloes served his need. Inthis trench he was partly hidden and could make better progress. Hetraveled on all fours, still alert in every sense for danger.
Suddenly he sank full length into the trench. On the other side of acactus-bush two Indians were squatting. They sat and talked.
The heart of the Ranger sank. At any moment they might discover hispresence, or they might sit there the whole night and hold him prisonerin his ditch.
For an hour he lay there, wondering each moment whether the ticking ofhis watch might not betray him. Then, in a leisurely way, the sentriesgot up and sauntered toward the river. The moon was up now, and he couldsee their naked bodies shining in the light.
The two Kiowas stopped a moment on the bank and talked before theyseparated. One moved up the river; the other turned and came backdirectly toward Roberts. The Ranger lay in the buffalo-trail hoping thatin the darkness he might escape observation. He was helpless. Even if hehad brought a gun with him he dared not shoot, for if the alarm weregiven he would be driven out of cover in a few minutes.
The brave came forward to the very edge of the wallow. His moccasintouched the body of the prostrate man. Some slight shift of hisattitude precipitated the crisis. He turned to listen to some sound,and his foot pressed upon the leg of the Ranger.
There was an instant volcanic upheaval. The Indian, startled, leapedback. Jack was upon him like a wildcat. They struggled, their bodies soclose that the Kiowa could not use his rifle. The Texan had a doubleadvantage, that of surprise and of a more muscular body. Moreover, theredskin made the mistake of trying to cling to his gun. He was flungdown to the ground hard, the white man on top of him.
Jack became aware that the Indian was going to shout, and knew that ifhe did all was lost. His strong, brown fingers closed on the throat ofthe brave. There was a wild thrashing of limbs in a struggle to escape.The grip tightened, cut off a gurgle of escaping air. The naked arms andlegs jerked more feebly....
When Roberts crept away into the darkness he carried with him the knifeof the Kiowa. The rifle would only have hampered him, since he had totravel fast and light.
With every yard gained now he was nearer safety. He knew he was leavingthe camp behind. Presently he rose to his feet and traveled faster. Forthe safety of the two on the island depended upon the speed with whichhe covered the distance between him and Tascosa.
The plainsman seldom walks. His high-heeled boots would be torture on along tramp. When he wants to reach a place, he rides on horseback. Jackhad not walked five miles at a time within a dozen years. Now his longlegs reached for the ground in a steady stride that ate up the leagues.He guided his course by the stars until he struck the river far abovethe camp. Once he stopped for a drink, but the thought of Ridley on theisland drove his tired limbs on. Heel and toe, heel and toe, the steadymarch continued, till the Ranger, lithe and strong though the wind andsun and outdoor life had made him, was ready to drop with fatigue. Hisfeet, pushed forward in the boots by the height of the heels, burned aswith fire from the pain of outraged flesh rubbing against stiff leather.
But it was not in him to quit. He set his teeth in his exhaustio
n andploughed on up the trail. At last he saw the far, faint lights ofTascosa. The last mile or two were interminable, but he walked into theBird Cage just as the clock on the wall was striking three.
The music had started for a dance. A girl in a spangled dress ran up tohim.
"Come on. Let's dance," she cried; then stopped and looked at him insurprise: "What's the matter with you?"
The Ranger climbed up on the bar and beat upon it with the heel of hisboot. The dancers stopped in their tracks as the music died.
"The Kiowas are on the warpath. They've got two white men trapped on thebig island below the bend. Gather all the horses, guns, and men you can.We start in twenty minutes."
Cowboys left their partners standing in the middle of the floor. Themusicians dropped their bows and fiddles. Bar-tenders left unfilled theorders they had just taken. For Indians in their war-paint were a factalways very near to the frontiersman, and whatever faults the Southwestmay have had in those days, its warm heart answered instantly the callfor help.
The dancers scattered in all directions to get ready. A gong, beaten bythe owner of the Bird Cage, rang out stridently into the quiet night torally sleeping citizens. Children, wakened by the clamor, began to wail.Dogs barked. Excited men flung out questions and hurried away withoutwaiting for answers.
But out of the confusion came swift action. Each man looked to his ownammunition, weapons, horse. Women hurriedly put up lunches and packedsaddlebags with supplies. In an incredibly short time a company of fiftyriders had gathered in front of the Bird Cage.
With the Ranger at their head, they went out of town at a fast trot. Ifthere had been anybody there to notice it, he would have seen that theclock on the wall at the Bird Cage registered the time as twenty-sevenminutes past three.