Boy Land Boomer; Or, Dick Arbuckle's Adventures in Oklahoma

by Edward Stratemeyer

  CHAPTER XVI.

  ATTACKED BY A WILDCAT.

  "You fiend!"

  This was all Pawnee Brown could say, as with a face full of bitterhatred Yellow Elk advanced and applied the torch to the dry brush whichencircled his feet.

  In vain the great scout endeavored to wrench himself free from thefire-stake. Yellow Elk and his followers had done their work well and hewas held as in a vise.

  "Pawnee Brown shall burn slowly," said the Indian chief, hoping to makethe scout show the white feather. "Yellow Elk will watch that the firedoes not mount to his body too quickly."

  "If you want to kill me why don't you put a bullet through my heart andhave done with it," said the boomer as coolly as he could. The fire wasnow burning around his feet and ankles and the pain was increasing withevery second of time.

  "White man shall learn what it is to suffer," said Spotted Nose. "Hekilled my friend, the Little Mule."

  "Your friend tried to take my life."

  "Bah! say no more but burn! burn!" hissed Yellow Elk.

  And with a stick he shoved the flaming brush closer in around thescout's legs.

  It was a fearful moment--a moment in which Pawnee Brown's life hung by asingle thread. The flames were leaping up all around him. He closed hiseyes and half murmured a prayer for divine aid.

  Crack! bang! crack! Two pistol shots and the report of a rifle echoedthroughout the cave, and as Pawnee Brown opened his eyes in astonishmentSpotted Nose threw up his arms and fell forward in the flames at hisfeet, dead! The Indian who had been with Spotted Nose also went down,mortally wounded, while Yellow Elk was hit in the left arm.

  "Down with the reds!" came in the ringing voice of Jack Rasco, and heappeared from out of a cloud of smoke, closely followed by Dan Gilbertand Dick. "Pawnee! Am I in time? I hope ter Heaven I am!"

  "Jack!" cried the great scout. A slash of Rasco's hunting knife and hewas free. "Good for you!" and then Pawnee Brown had his hands full forseveral minutes beating out the flames which had ignited his boot solesand the bottoms of his trousers.

  "We plugged the three of 'em," said Gilbert. "I knocked thet one," andhe pointed to the Indian who was breathing his last.

  "I hit the Indian with the yellow plume," put in Dick, and he could nothelp but shudder.

  "That was Yellow Elk," said Rasco. "But whar is he now?"

  All the white men turned quickly, looking up and down the cave. It wasuseless. Yellow Elk had disappeared.

  "He must not escape!" cried Pawnee Brown. "I have an account to settlewith him for starting that fire."

  "But whar is Nellie?" asked Rasco, impatiently, looking around with afalling face.

  "She ran away when the other Indians came to Yellow Elk's assistance,"answered Pawnee Brown, and in a few hurried words he told his story.

  "Then she can't be far off."

  "Let us hunt for her at once," cried Dick, and his enthusiasm made themen laugh, at which the boy blushed furiously.

  "Never mind, Dick, yer don't think no more of her nor I do," said Rasco."Which way, Pawnee?"

  "This way, boys." The scout turned to the Indian who had been wounded."Dead as a door nail. Pity it wasn't Yellow Elk."

  "So say I," answered Rasco. "But we'll git him yet, mark my words!"

  With all possible speed they ran out of the cave and to the spot wherethey had left their horses. Here a disagreeable surprise awaited them.Every animal was gone, including the one Pawnee Brown had ridden.

  "More of Yellow Elk's work!" muttered the boomer. "I'll tell you, men,that red is a corker, and as a dead Indian he couldn't be beat."

  "I declar' this most stumps me!" growled Dan Gilbert. "Here's the trailplain enough, but it's all out of the question ter follow on shank's ownmare."

  "Let us hunt up Clemmer and the others," suggested Jack Rasco.

  "We must be cautious--the cavalry may be somewhere in the vicinity,"added Pawnee Brown. "How the redskins escaped them is a mystery to me."

  "They are evidently as sly as their forefathers," said Dick. "But,really, something ought to be done. If we--hullo, there's a horse downin yonder clearing!"

  "Bonnie Bird!" shouted Pawnee Brown, in great delight. It was indeed thebeautiful mare. A second cry and the steed came bounding up to hermaster.

  "Now I can follow even if the others can't," said the scout. "Rasco,it's a pity you haven't a mount. It is no more than right that youshould follow up your niece. If you insist upon it I'll let you haveBonnie Bird. I wonder if Nellie or the redskin had her?"

  "I won't take yer horse, Pawnee--it's askin' too much," answered Rasco."Supposin' we both mount her? If Bonnie Bird got away from Yellow Elkit's more'n likely one of the other hosses got away, too."

  "That's so. Well, get up, Jack, and let us lose no time."

  Soon both men were mounted. A few words all around followed, and it wasagreed that Dick and Gilbert should try to hunt up Clemmer and theothers, and then away went Pawnee Brown and Rasco upon Yellow Elk'strail.

  Suddenly Jack Rasco uttered a cry.

  "See, Pawnee, here's whar another of the hosses got away. Hang me if Idon't think it war my hoss, too!"

  "Yes, and here is where the horse dropped into a walk," he answered. "Idon't believe he can be far off."

  Without delay Rasco slid to the ground.

  "I'll follow him up afoot," he declared. "I'm fresh and can run itputty good. You go ahead with the regular trail."

  The trail left by Yellow Elk ran down along the edge of the stream for adistance of perhaps a hundred yards, then it came out on a series offlat rocks and was lost to view.

  Pawnee Brown came to a halt. Had Yellow Elk crossed the stream, ordoubled on the trail and gone back?

  Dismounting, he got down upon his hands and knees and examined the lasthoof-prints with extreme care.

  The examination lasted for fully ten minutes. No white man could followa trail better than this leader of the boomers, yet for the time beinghe was baffled.

  Yellow Elk had led the horses into the water, but the trail did notextend across the stream.

  "He's an artful dodger!" mused Pawnee Brown, when of a sudden he becamesilent.

  A faint scratching, as of tree bark, had come to his ears. The noise wasbut a short distance away.

  "Some animal," he thought. "No human being would make such a sound asthat."

  Another ten seconds of painful silence followed. The scratching soundhad just been resumed when Bonnie Bird wheeled about as if on a pivot.

  "Ha!"

  The exclamation came from between Pawnee Brown's set teeth. There, frombetween the branches of a tree just in front of him, glared a pair ofyellowish-green eyes.

  The blazing optics belonged to a monstrous wildcat!

  As quick as a flash Pawnee Brown raised his pistol and pulled thetrigger.

  Crack! The wildcat was hit in the side. The shot was a glancing one anddid but little damage.

  Whirr! down came the body straight for the boomer, landing half upon hisshoulder and half upon Bonnie Bird's mane.

  The little mare was thoroughly frightened, and giving a snort and aplunge she threw both rider and wildcat to the ground.

  As Pawnee Brown went down he tried to push the monstrous cat from him,but the beast had its claws fastened in the scout's clothing and couldnot be shook off.

  Crack! Again Pawnee Brown fired. The flash was almost directly in thewildcat's face, and shot in the left forepaw the beast uttered a fearfulhowl of pain and dropped back.

  But only for an instant. The pain only increased its anger, and withgleaming teeth it crouched down and made another spring, right for theboomer's throat.

  Crack! crack! twice again the pistol rang out. But the big cat was nowwary and both shots failed to take effect.

  The pistol being now empty, Pawnee Brown hurled it at the enraged beast,striking it in the nose and eliciting another scream of rage.

  Then, as the wildcat came on for a final attack, the scout pulled outhis hunting knife.

 
; As the wildcat came down the hand holding the hunting knife was raised,with the blade of the knife pointing upward.

  A lightning-like swing and a thrust, and for one brief instant thewildcat was poised in the air, upon the very blade of the long knife.

  The blow had been a true one, the knife point reaching the beast'sheart, and when the animal fell it rolled down among the leaves, dead.

  "By thunder! but that was something I hadn't bargained for!" murmuredthe great scout, as he surveyed the carcass. "That's about the biggestwildcat I ever saw. It's a good thing I didn't meet him in the dark."

  Wiping off his hunting knife, he restored it to his belt. Then he pickedup his pistol and started to reload it, at the same time whistling forBonnie Bird, who, he felt sure, must be close by.

  As Pawnee Brown stood reloading the pistol and whistling for his mare hedid not notice a shadow behind him. Slowly but surely someone wasdrawing closer to him. It was Yellow Elk.

  The Indian chief was on foot. In his left hand he carried a cockedrevolver, in his right an old-time tomahawk, from which he had refusedto be parted when placed on the Indian reservation.

  The redskin's face was full of the most bitter animosity it is possibleto imagine. The glare of wickedness in his eyes fairly put the look thathad lived in the wildcat's optics to shame. His snags of yellow teethwere firmly set.

  He was resolved to kill his enemy there and then. Pawnee Brown shouldnot again escape him.