The Saddle Boys at Circle Ranch; Or, In at the Grand Round-Up

by Captain James Carson

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE PRISONERS OF THE BUNK-HOUSE

  That one yell was immediately followed by others from inside the cabin.Then came a tremendous thumping on the door, accompanied by moreoutcries.

  The cowboys without, not being able to hold themselves in check anylonger, started to shoot; and the rattle of firearms was the first signthat told the prisoners of the bunk-house something of the truth.

  Colonel Haywood knew that he was dealing with desperate men. He realizedthat nothing must be neglected in the effort to hold them prisoners,until the cattle had been driven out of the mountains, and within thezone of safety.

  Upon the door of the cabin he pounded with the butt end of a revolver.

  “Mendoza!” he called, in a tone of authority.

  The clamor both within and without ceased as if by magic. The rustlerswere consumed with a burning desire to know what it all meant. On theother hand, Scotty and the rest of the punchers knew that their employerwished to give the leader of the rustlers warning.

  “Who calls me?” came from within; and Bob knew that it was the chiefrustler who spoke, although bitter anger filled his voice.

  “This is Colonel Haywood, Mendoza; you know me!” continued the stockman.

  A laugh greeted the announcement.

  “So you have come to reclaim your strays, is that it, Colonel Haywood?”mocked the Mexican; “well, they are all safe, but a few heifers thatgrew dizzy climbing along the trail, and dropped over. But you willnever take them out of this valley.”

  “We’re going to make a big try for it, just as soon as daylight comes;and mark my words, Mendoza, the men who try to oppose us are going toget hurt,” the stockman continued, sternly.

  “Wait and see who laughs last,” mocked the other. “You think you’ve gotus shut up here like rats in a trap. Perhaps you mean to keep guard overus until the last of the steers has been safely run out of the hills;those belonging to us as well as your own?”

  “You are good at guessing, Mendoza,” replied the stockman; “for that isexactly what we plan to do.”

  “And you think we will tamely stay in here while you are robbing us ofour property, we who are armed, and do not know the meaning of the wordfear? Senor, you have another guess coming!” continued the man behindthe door.

  “All the same,” Colonel Haywood went on, sternly; “not one of your menwill dare show his face outside that cabin, until those I leave here onguard hear the signal that we have reached the plain with the herd. Theyhave orders to shoot, Mendoza, and to make every bullet count. It is along score they have to settle with you; and if you are wise you willhesitate to give them the chance they have been waiting for these manymoons.”

  The rustler chief laughed again.

  “I don’t like the sound of that laugh,” Bob said to Frank, as the twostood where no stray shot from the besieged cabin might reach them;“somehow it makes me think of a hyena I once saw at a circus. When hehowled it sent the cold creeps up and down my back.”

  “Same here,” admitted Frank. “They say Mendoza is as sly as any fox thatever crept into a hen house, and carried off a fat prize, with all sortsof traps set to catch him. Somehow I just can’t get rid of the notionthat while we seem to have him in a pickle right now, he’s got a stringhe means to pull, that’s going to surprise us disagreeably.”

  “Say, you make me feel bad, Frank,” declared the other; “I hope you’remistaken about that. But listen to the racket they’re kicking up insidethere! Do you think they’ll break out, and tackle our fellows?”

  “Not much they won’t,” laughed Frank. “They know what cowboys are, oncethey get their guns going. And remember, they have no idea how many ofus there are. How can they tell that there are not forty fellows here,just waiting for them to break out?”

  “Then that’s all put on for show, the pounding and shouting?” asked Bob.

  “Huh!” snorted Frank; “they have to make a bluff of being hungry to getat our crowd; but all the same, you mark my word, it’ll be some timebefore the first rustler shows even the tip of his nose where Scotty orany of our boys can get a crack at him.”

  “Frank, am I right, and is that the first peep of dawn over yonder inthe east?”

  “No mistake about that, my boy; morning is close at hand; and beforeanother hour I reckon we’ll be pushing the herd over the back trail,”Frank replied.

  “There will be several men left here to hold the rustlers in the cabin;is that the programme, Frank?”

  “Just what; and you can easily understand that they will be men chosenfor their staying qualities,” Frank answered. “For you know it’s goingto be something of a ticklish job; because when once they get thesignal, and quit here, the rustlers will burrow out in no time. And,being wild for revenge, they’ll chase after the boys, and give them arunning fight all through the mountain trails.”

  “How about them shooting now, through cracks or holes in the cabinwalls?” asked the Kentucky boy.

  “They might,” replied his chum. “I reckon they’ve got some gun-holeshere and there for just that purpose. But if they know what’s good forthem, they’ll go slow about wounding any of our boys. Dad can hardlyhold the fellows in now, and it would only take one match to set off themagazine; and there’s no telling what terrible things would happenthen.”

  “There goes your father and Bart now, toward the corral,” Bob remarked.

  “Yes, and some of the boys trailing after,” Frank added. “It looks likethey expected to get the herd in motion as soon as the trail can beeasily seen. Dad is just wild to drive his stock clear of this valley;though some day I expect he’ll be wanting to use it on his own hook,after the rustlers have been driven out of this part of the country;because it’s a boss place to winter a herd.”

  “We go with the punchers who will drive, I suppose, Frank?”

  “Sure we do,” replied the other, a little regretfully. “I tried to coaxdad to let us stay back; but he just wouldn’t hear of it.”

  “And for one I’m glad he didn’t say yes,” Bob spoke promptly. “I don’tfeel that I’d like to stay here, and have a hand in that game of hideand seek you say will take place when the siege of the bunk-house israised, and the rustlers rush out like a swarm of angry bees. No, Ithink I’d be happier driving the herd; though if they came up with us,and tried to take the cattle back, I hope I’d fight like a trueKentuckian ought.”

  “Oh! once we strike the level with the herd we’ll see no more of therustlers,” Frank assured him confidently. “And, what’s more, you cantake it from me that as soon as dad gets home he’ll stir up all thestockmen in this part of the State. It’s going to get too warm forMendoza and his crowd on this side of the border; and they’ll have tovamoose, if they want to keep alive.”

  Once at the corral the boys found that, as daylight came on, the cowboyswere getting busy indeed. They recognized the best part of the herd astheir property; but besides these there seemed to be fully as many othercattle. Mendoza had claimed these as his lawful possession; but no onebelieved him; for it was found that in every case the brands onfull-grown cattle had been altered. Only a few partly grown animals borethe single star that seemed to be the trade mark of the hidden valleyranch.

  The last the boys saw of the bunk-house, all appeared serene there. Nodoubt the inmates were watching through cracks and holes, to see whatthe cowboys were doing; but thus far they had made no serious attempt toforce a way out, knowing, as they did, that a number of good shots wereposted behind the other cabin, ready to give them a very hot receptionupon their appearance.

  It was now light enough to make a start, and the cries of the cowboysbegan to cause a movement in the herd. The barbed wire corral had beencut, so that the animals were easily driven forth, and headed on thetrail that would, in a short time, bring the vanguard to the neck of thebottle—that narrow pass through which they must apparently proceed inorder to leave the valley.

  All seemed to be going smoothly, and the boys, who were
keeping prettymuch together, could see nothing menacing in the conditions around them.The country was exceedingly wild, and a few daring men would be able tobreak up the drive, could they be posted on the slope of the mountain.But the boys felt sure that all the rustlers, except the vidette who hadbeen first captured, were shut up in the bunk-house, and hence beyondpower of doing any harm.

  Still, somehow, Bob could not quite get that scornful laugh, as well asthe mocking words of Mendoza, out of his mind.

  “He meant something by it, I’m sure of that,” he was saying to himselffor the fifth time at least, as he stalked along, doing his share ofdriving the herd toward the outlet of the secret valley back of ThunderMountain.

  This being on foot galled the cowboys very much. If there is anything apuncher dislikes it is being compelled to play his part without a horse.Habit so accustoms him to being mounted that he really seems to be apart of his steed, once he flings himself across the animal’s back.

  “Ten minutes more, and we ought to have the leaders starting throughthat little gap, hadn’t we, Frank?” Bob asked, after a time.

  “Just what we ought,” the other replied; and hardly had he spoken beforehe staggered back, while Bob almost fell over with the shock.

  It seemed to the two boys as though the cap of Thunder Mountain, longsuspected of having been a volcano centuries in the past, had been blownsky-high by some tremendous internal force. There was a heavy blast thatseemed to make the very earth quiver under their feet. The cattlebellowed, and shrank fearfully into a compact mass, refusing to gofurther along the trail. And the loud cries of the cowboys told thatthey, too, had been astounded by the explosion that seemed somysterious.