CHAPTER IX
A LONE INDIAN
Less noise than that which issued from the excited throat of Nort wouldhave been sufficient to arouse a larger camp than that of the cowboyson the trail of the Yaquis. Instantly every man in the party, notforgetting Bud who had been sleeping as soundly as any, was on thealert, gun in hand, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the other fist.
"What's up?" snarled Snake. He always did hate to rouse suddenly.
"Look!" cried Nort, pointing to the north, where, now and then, ashimmering light cut the blackness of the sky. "Dick says they'reshooting stars, but I say Indian signals."
"They aren't shooting stars, that's sure!" declared Rolling Stone."I've slept in the open too often, counting those same shooting stars,to be mistaken. They're signals of some kind!"
"But not Indians' signals," asserted Yellin' Kid.
"Whose then?" Nort wanted to know, satisfied that he had not awakenedthe camp in vain.
"They're rockets--or some sort of fire works," went on Dick. "First Ithought they were shooting stars, but I can see now that they aren't.They're sky rockets or Roman candles."
"That's right," agreed Snake. "And no Yaquis will fool with suchinfernal machines as them."
"Unless your cousins had some," suggested Yellin' Kid looking towardBud and his chums. Some one had thrown an armful of greasewood on thefire, and it blazed up brightly, disclosing the countenances of theIndian trailers.
"What would Rosemary and Floyd be doing with fireworks?" asked Bud.
"I didn't know but what they might be bringing some to Diamond X for acelebration, and the Indians, having laid hands on the rockets as wellas on your cousins, might be setting 'em off--setting off the rockets Imean--for a celebration over their victory," observed Yellin' Kid,somewhat out of breath after this long oration.
"Nonsense!" asserted Snake. "The Indians wouldn't set off the rocketson purpose. They'd be afraid. Though of course they may have done soby accident."
"I don't believe Rosemary or Floyd would be bringing us fireworks,"remarked Bud. "They're too old for such kid stuff."
"That's what I thought," said Snake.
"But who is shooting off the rockets?" asked Nort, as another brilliantburst of fire, not unlike shooting stars, illuminated the dark northernsky.
"Troopers," said the old cowboy.
"Troopers?" question Dick.
"Yes. United States cavalry. There are several companies stationedout here, and they may be on a practice march, or having a sham battle,as they sometimes do. These are signals from one post to another."
"Or maybe a signal about the Indians," suggested Bud.
"Yes," agreed Snake. "It may be the troopers are after the Yaquis. Isure hope so, for the imps are going to be hard enough to nab once theyget up in the foothills and mountains. We'll need the help of thetroopers for sure!"
"Isn't there some way we could let them know we're coming?" asked Dick.
"Not very handy," the cowboy leader answered. "We haven't anyfireworks, and shooting off our guns would only waste good bullets thatwe may need later. Besides, those shooting stars are farther off thanthey look. We couldn't make our guns heard, and the flashes would beso low down they couldn't be seen. All we can do is to wait untilmorning. We're traveling in that direction anyhow, and we may come upwith the regulars."
"With their help we'll make short work of the Yaquis!" boasted Nort.
"Don't be so sure of that," warned Rolling Stone. "The Indians, whilenothing like the American redmen, are cute and foxy enough in their ownway. They probably know of nooks and hiding places in the mountainswhere they could lay up for weeks, and almost next door to a troop ofsoldiers, without getting located. It's going to be largely a matterof luck if we nab 'em!"
"Well, here's hoping," voiced Bud, as he turned toward the fire.
It was chilly out in the open at that hour of the morning. For thoughthe days are very hot, it began to get cool very often as soon as thesun went down, and the air kept getting cooler until the golden raysagain warmed the earth. So one and all sought the genial blaze, tothaw out a little before again rolling in blankets to wait for sunrise.
Aside from the alarm over the shooting stars, nothing else disturbedthe camp that night, and all were gladly astir with daybreak. The firewas started into new life, and soon coffee was boiling over the coals,while mingled with its odor was the appetizing smell of crisp bacon.
"Let me make the flapjacks," begged Rolling Stone. "I used to be agreat hand for them, and I still have some small skill."
He would need to have, for not a member of the party but what couldturn a neatly browned cake high in the air, catching it unerringly asit came down, to be cooked on the other side. Even Nort and Dick hadbecome quite adept at this.
But the skill of even Snake Purdee had to take a back seat in the faceof the performance of Rolling Stone. Not only were his cakes better intaste, and more delicately browned, but he showed almost uncanny skillin tossing them high in the air, and catching them in the pan as theycame down. Not once did a cake "slop over"--that is descend halfwithin and half without the pan. Each one fell true and in the middleof the skillet, there to be held over the coals again until crisp andbrown.
"You're a wonder--that's what you are!" affirmed Yellin' Kid in hisusual hearty tones, as he passed his tin plate for more.
"It's a gift--that's all! Just a gift!" modestly admitted theself-constituted "flapjacketer," as he laughingly dubbed himself.
Smart was the word and smart was the action when breakfast was ended.The horses had made their meal during the night, and were ready fortheir riders who were soon in the saddle, riding toward the north--thenorth in which direction the Yaquis had vanished with theircaptives--the north where the mysterious signal lights had been seen.
Through the day rode the posse of self-constituted seekers after thecaptives. They could not hope, for some time yet, to come upon actualtraces of the Yaquis. But they felt that they were heading in theproper direction.
It was towards the close of the afternoon, when they were beginning toseek for a suitable camping place, with water, that Nort, who hadridden on a little in advance, came to a halt at the top of a rise.His halt was caused by the appearance of a solitary horseman, comingtoward him. And it needed but a second look, through that clearatmosphere, to disclose that the rider was not an American cowboy.
"What's wrong, Nort?" called Bud, for he had sensed something unusualin his cousin's attitude.
"An Indian!" was the answer. "A lone Indian!"
The others rode hastily up the slope. The solitary horseman was comingrapidly on. He seemed to have no fear of thus riding into the midst ofhis enemies.
"Got his nerve with him, anyhow!" mused Snake, as he looked to his gun.
"Maybe he's come to say the Yaquis will surrender and give up Rosemaryand Floyd," suggested Dick. "Maybe they know we're on their trail."
Boy Ranchers Among the Indians; Or, Trailing the Yaquis Page 9