CHAPTER IV
SOLUTION
The moon was well down toward the western edge of the prairie when theboys rode away from the bunk house. They rode toward the south, inpursuit of the bandits, as they now called Whiff, String, and Ham.Whitey and Injun had settled on this course shortly after Whitey haddecided that the men were intent on train robbery. There were severalreasons for their choice.
For one thing, it was too late to go and warn Bill and the otherpunchers at the Junction. And even if it were not, if they did that theywould have to share with the ranch men the glory of the pursuit andpossible capture of the bandits. It may have been rash of the boys, butafter their former adventures they felt capable of taking care of threebandits by themselves--especially if they came on them unawares, whichthey intended to do. Had Bill been there, it isn't likely that he wouldhave approved of their act, but with him away the boys could findplenty of reasons for doing what they wanted to do.
Slim, the cook, had taken no interest in the affair. He was wrapped upin attending to his misery, and the boys left him in a bunk, soaked withliniment--which by rights was intended for a horse--and trying to sleepand forget his troubles.
As the horses galloped over the rolling plains into the darkness of thesouth, the boys were thrilled by a glow of excitement. Each had hisrifle hanging in a gun-boat from his saddle. The mystery of the night;the fresh, keen stirring of the September air; the spirit of adventure;the easy, swinging motion of the horses--all these made the night'shours worth living for.
For a while, by the moon's light, Injun had easily been able to followthe tracks of the horses of the three men, and as they continued towardthe south, Whitey felt sure that he had guessed correctly, so the horseswere urged to a swifter pace. Little urging was necessary, however, asWhitey's "Monty" pony and Injun's pinto were fresh and seemed as eagerfor the chase as their masters.
Whitey's plan for thwarting the bandits was simple. Before reaching theJunction, the boys were to branch off toward the east and intercept thetrain. They could stand on the track and swing a lantern, which Injuncarried for the purpose. When the train came to a standstill, they couldget aboard, and warn the train crew. It would be easy to recruit anarmed force from among the passengers, for in those days, in the West,there were few men who went unarmed. And when the bandits attemptedtheir hold-up, they would meet with a warm reception.
The train left the Junction at six, and should reach the water tankabout three-quarters of an hour later, though it often was late. As theboys had started from the ranch house at two, Whitey figured that theywould have time enough, though none to waste.
The hours could not be counted, but perhaps three had passed, andthrough the scented, velvety darkness there came a touch of gray in theeast, which changed to pink, then to opal, as the coming sun tinged thelow-lying clouds. The animal and bird life began to stir, preparing togreet the beauty of the dawn, or rather, to start on their affairs ofthe day, for it is likely that the denizens of the prairie had as littlethought for the glory of the sunrise as had Injun and Whitey, whoseminds were firmly fixed on train robbers.
When the light was full, the boys drew up, and looked off toward thesouthwest. Whitey had been depending on Injun's never-failing sense ofdirection to carry them aright. This ability to point toward any pointof the compass, in the dark, was one of Injun's gifts--though he didn'tknow what a compass was. And sure enough, away off there against thegray of the clouds was a line of high, tiny crosses, telegraph poles,near which stretched the tracks of the road.
When he saw them, Whitey could not resist a whoop of joy. "If we ridestraight for them, how far do you think we'll be from the water tank?"he asked.
"Mebbe one mile, mebbe two," replied Injun, who seldom committed himselfto an exact answer.
"That's all right, come on!" cried Whitey, and they galloped straightfor the railroad.
When they reached the tracks, they dismounted and tied their ponies toneighboring telegraph poles, fearing the effect the noise of the trainwould have on the spirited animals. Then the boys went to the roadbed toawait the coming of the train. The line stretched straight toward thewest, until the rails seemed to join in the distance. But toward theeast was a curve as the road approached a gully, at the bottom of whichwas a creek. It was from this creek that the water was drawn for thetank.
The sunrise had seemed to promise a fair day, but the promise failed,for a mist was forming over the plains. The train was not in sight, andWhitey kneeled, and placed an ear to the track, knowing that he coulddetect the vibration caused by the train before it appeared.
He rose and nodded his head. "I hear it," he said. For once Whitey hadit on Injun. He knew about railroads and Injun didn't.
"Light the lantern," said Whitey. Then he began to laugh.
Injun gazed at the lantern, then at Whitey. He could see no cause forlaughter.
"I was wise when I suggested that lantern," said Whitey. "I neverthought that it would be daylight, and its light wouldn't show."
Injun almost smiled.
"What we ought to have is a red flag," Whitey continued. "That's theproper thing to signal a train with in daytime."
Injun grunted, and Whitey considered the matter. "I have it! Yourshirt!" he cried. "It's pink, close enough to red. We'll wave that."
Injun grunted again and looked doubtful. "Me get 'im back?" he asked.Injun didn't care any less for that shirt than he did for his pinto orhis rifle--and he cared more for it than for his interest in the goldmine.
"Sure, you'll get it back," said Whitey, and without a word Injun tookoff the shirt and handed it to Whitey.
The boys gazed anxiously toward the west. Whitey thought of the threearmed men, who now probably had handkerchiefs tied over their faces, andwere lying in wait in the gully. Then of the oncoming train, with itsunsuspecting passengers, and in the express car the bags of ore thatwere said to assay forty thousand dollars a ton. It wouldn't take muchof _that_ to make it worth while for the bandits to hold up theshipment.
Although the mist was getting thicker, it seemed singular that the traindid not appear. The inaction of waiting was beginning to get on Whitey'snerves--and would have affected Injun's if he'd had any. At that, theyhad not been waiting very long, though they did not know it.
"It must be getting near. I'll listen again," said Whitey.
Whitey again placed his ear to the track, then looked up blankly. "It'sstopped," he said, "Mebbe there's been an accident."
Injun knew a good deal about plains and woods, and animals and birds,but was rather in awe of trains. He gazed at Whitey's face, which worethe same blank look as his own, and ventured no opinion. Two sharp,faint sounds came from the east--something between the crack of whipsand the popping of corks. They were followed by three more.
Injun knew about these. "Him shoot," he said.
The startled expression on Whitey's face gradually gave way to one ofunderstanding and disgust. "They came from the water tank," he said."Don't you see? We're late, and what I heard was the train going theother way. Then it stopped, and they're holding it up." And Whitey satdown on one of the rails, thoroughly disgusted.
For a while nothing was said. The disappointment was too great forwords. The boys' chance for heroism had melted in the fog, which themist had now become. Injun slowly put on his shirt. It was nothing but agarment now, no heroic rescue signal.
"I'll bet that clock at the ranch was wrong. It always is. I might haveknown it," Whitey said dejectedly. The thought of the loss of the goldwas forgotten in his disappointment at failure. "I hope no one washurt--I mean none of the trainmen or passengers," he added. "But Iguess not. Those bandits had the drop on them, and they couldn't haveput up much of a fight. How do you suppose we heard those shots? We mustbe at least a mile from the tank.
"Him fog," Injun answered. "Hear plain." And it is true that fog has away of conveying sound.
An idea brought Whitey to his feet with a leap. "What fools we are to besitting here!" he cried. "We'll
follow those robbers. The people on thetrain won't do that. They've no horses."
Here, indeed, was a brilliant thought. The boys could track the banditsto their hiding-place, and possibly recover the ore. At least, theycould return and report where the men had gone. There was a chance todistinguish themselves yet. In a moment they were mounted and dashingdown along the track, toward the water tank.
Presently a shrill whistle was followed by the faint rumbling of thetrain as it resumed its way. "See?" yelled Whitey. "The train's juststarting. We won't be very late, and the men's tracks will be plain.Gee! I hope it doesn't rain."
A few minutes' ride brought the boys to the deserted water tank. Theydismounted to pick up the trail of the robbers. Near the tank, where theexpress car must have stood, were the traces of many feet. There wereothers leading from the cars in the rear. Noting these, Whitey said:"Mebbe they held up the passengers, too. It's likely that they would."
But, singularly enough, most of these tracks led on toward the highbridge which spanned the gully. The boys followed them curiously, andwhen they reached the bridge Injun stopped.
"Huh! Go back again, too," he muttered. And sure enough in the maze offootprints many seemed to lead back toward the water tank.
"Why do you s'pose they went to the bridge? Prob'ly to see if it wassafe; that the robbers hadn't damaged it," Whitey said.
"Mebbe," said Injun, who was figuring things out in his own way andseldom spoke until he had them figured.
From the scramble of footprints near the tank, Injun picked out thoseof three pairs that diverged from the mass. Injun traced these backtoward the gully. Two of the tracks were made by ordinary boots, theother by high-heeled cowboy boots. Whitey left this part of the chaseentirely to Injun, and followed, leading the ponies.
Presently Monty gave voice to a shrill neigh, and to Whitey's surpriseit was answered from the gully. "Look out!" Whitey called softly toInjun. "They haven't gone. There's one of their horses."
But to Whitey's further surprise Injun paid no heed, but kept calmly onhis way, and there was nothing for Whitey to do but to follow. Thegully, or little canyon, was about fifty feet deep, and the creek thatran through it about that many feet wide. At the lowest part, near thestream, Injun paused.
"Where are their horses?" Whitey whispered.
"No tied here," Injun answered, which was plainer to see than his reasonfor knowing that they were not.
Whitey was now greatly puzzled and, he had to confess to himself, not alittle alarmed. But as the next impatient question was on his lips hestopped short. A cool breeze had sprung up, and was wafting aside thecloud-like fog. A rift in the fog disclosed a portion of the trestlebridge. And, hanging from it, with noosed lariats around their necks,were three limp, ghastly figures.
In horror, Whitey clutched Injun's arm, and gasped, "The bandits!"
Injun looked stolidly at the horrible sight, as for thousands of yearshis people had looked on death. "Uh," he said and pointed toward thewater tank. "Walk marks go that way. No come back."
Injun and Whitey to the Rescue Page 5