The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  While the captain committed a grave mistake, for which he was excusable, Avon was equally at fault, and with as good if not a better reason. Not dreaming it possible that he could have a friend near the cabin and on the outside, he supposed the shot was fired by the captain to create a diversion in his favor.

  While such, as the reader knows, was not the case, yet it served that commendable purpose.

  The death-shriek of the stricken Comanche was still in the air, when, assuming a crouching posture, the youth made a dash for cover. He expected every moment that other rifles would be fired and he would be headed off. He could hardly understand it, therefore, when he felt the bushes strike his face, and he knew that he was among the mesquite, without suffering harm.

  He would have continued his flight, had not the sounds in front shown that while he had been wonderfully fortunate up to this point, he had run almost into a group of his enemies.

  The dense shadows of the bushes prevented him from seeing them, else they assuredly would have observed him, but, determined to go forward now at all hazards, and eager to seize the flimsiest thread of hope, he sank down on his hands and knees, anxious to continue his flight, but waiting to learn in what direction it should be made, if indeed it could be made at all.

  There was one hope which he felt he must give up. The possibility of finding Thunderbolt, and using the matchless steed in his flight to the camp of the cowboys, had occurred to him more than once, though it would seem that it was altogether too much to look for any such good fortune as that.

  “If I can only get clear of the parties, who seem to be everywhere,” was his thought, “I will run all the way to camp and bring the boys back in a twinkling.”

  He could have drawn Thunderbolt to him by a single emission of the well-known signal, but such an attempt would have been the before the mustang, even if he was not already in their possession, and the act would secure the capture of rider and steed beyond peradventure.

  “Can it be that my flight is unsuspected?” he asked himself, while he crouched on the ground, uncertain which way to move, and yet feeling that something of the kind must be done.

  It was useless to speculate, and, since his foes appeared to be directly in his front, he turned to the right, and began gliding slowly forward, fearful that the beating of his heart would betray him at every inch.

  But the marvellous good fortune which had attended him thus far was not quite ready to desert him. With a care and caution beyond description, he advanced foot by foot until he drew a deep sigh of relief at the knowledge that that particular group of red men was no longer in front, but to the left and somewhat to the rear.

  “If there are no more,” he thought, “it begins to look as if I might succeed after all.”

  But his rejoicing was premature. Not only did he catch the sound of a horse’s hoofs, but they were directly before him, and coming as straight for the spot where he was crouching as if the animal were following a mathematical line.

  One of the Comanches was riding through the mesquite bush, and if the youth stayed where he was he must be trampled by the mustang, unless the animal was frightened into leaping aside and thus betraying him to his master.

  “Very well,” muttered Avon, “if it comes to that, I know how to manage you.”

  As the thought passed through his mind, he reached to his holster and drew his revolver.

  At this moment the steed halted, though he gave no sniff or sign that he had learned of the stranger so close in front. Believing a collision inevitable, Avon straightened up, with his weapon firmly grasped.

  But before he could use it the rider slipped to the ground, and the next moment drew a match along the side of his leggings. As the tiny flame shone out in the gloom, he held it up in front of his face to light the cigarette between his lips.

  CHAPTER IX.

  AT FAULT.

  As a rule the American Indian is not partial to cigarette smoking, that being a vice that he is willing to leave to his more civilized brother; but the Comanche in front of Avon Burnet, and so near him, left no doubt of his purpose.

  As the tiny flame burned more brightly, he shaded it with his hands and puffed the twisted roll of tobacco, like one who knew how liable the blaze was to be blown out by the wind that rustled among the mesquite bushes. He was such an expert at the business, however, that he met with no difficulty.

  The glow of the flame shone between the fingers, where they slightly touched each other, giving them a crimson hue, while the point of the nose, the eyes, and the front of the face were revealed almost as distinctly as was the countenance of the warrior whom Dinah discovered in the act of firing the roof of the cabin.

  This Comanche was more ill-favored than the other and was in middle life. There was something in his appearance which gave the youth the suspicion that he was the chief or leader of the band of raiders, though there could be no certainty on that point.

  Nothing would have been easier than for Avon, from where he stood, to shoot down the savage and appropriate his horse for himself. There was an instant when he meditated such a step, but though many a veteran of the frontier would have seized the chance with eagerness, he shrank from such a deliberate taking of human life.

  The youth had already shown his pluck and readiness to use his weapon when necessary, but he could not justify himself in an act like the one named.

  But he did not mean to stand idle when there was a call for instant and decisive action.

  While the Comanche used his two hands in manipulating his match and cigarette, his rifle leaned against the limbs of one of the largest mesquite bushes, where he could snatch it up without stirring a foot.

  It was not to be supposed that he had dismounted for the purpose of kindling his cigarette, for he could have done that on the back of his mustang, as well as when on the ground. He must have decided that he was nigh enough to the other warriors to light his tobacco before joining them on foot.

  The youth was sure the steed before him was a fine one, for it is rare to see one of those people without an excellent horse, and he resolved to capture it.

  At the instant the match was at its best, and the point of the cigarette was glowing red, Avon stepped toward the motionless steed, passing along the side which was furthest from his master. The beast saw him on the instant, and gave a slight whinny and recoiled.

  His master spoke sharply, while the cigarette was between his teeth. Not suspecting the cause of his alarm, he supposed it was trifling and gave it no attention. But when his animal, with a loud snort, wheeled and started off on a gallop, the Indian threw down his match, called out angrily, and, grasping his gun, sprang forward to intercept him.

  It will be remembered that the darkness was more dense in the mesquite bush than on the open prairie, and, although he caught a glimpse of the vanishing mustang, he saw nothing of the figure on his back, for the reason that, when the nimble youth vaulted thither, he threw himself forward on his neck.

  The Indian must have been astonished by the action of his animal, but he probably concluded he would not wander far, and would be within reach in the morning when needed. So he refrained from attempting anything like pursuit, which would have been foolish under the circumstances.

  It was a clever exploit on the part of Avon Burnet, and he could not repress a feeling of exultation over the success. Boldness, dash, and peculiarly favoring circumstances had taken him through the Comanche lines, when a repetition of the attempt would fail ninety-nine times out of a hundred.

  But while he was justified in being grateful, there was enough serious business still before him. He could not forget that the friends in the cabin were in dire peril and no time ought to be wasted in bringing them relief.

  The first indispensable act was to locate himself, so as to gain an idea of the points of the compass, without which it was beyond his power to reach the camp of his friends.

  A brief walk brought the horse out of the bush and he stood on the open prairie. The
mustang was without saddle or bridle, except a single buffalo thong, that was twisted over his nose and by which his master guided him. Avon had ridden the animals in the same way, and since this mustang became tractable the instant he felt anyone on his back, such an equestrian as the young Texan met with no difficulty whatever.

  But he realized that a serious difficulty confronted him when he attempted to locate himself. The flurry in the bush had so mixed up his ideas of direction, that he was all at sea.

  Not a star twinkled in the cloudy sky, nor could he tell in what quarter of the heavens the moon was hidden. Looking in the supposed direction of the cabin, he saw only gloom, while it was equally dark when he gazed toward the spot where he believed the camp of the cowboys lay.

  Between the home of Captain Shirril and the spot where his men awaited his coming were several elevations and depressions of land, so that had the Texans been burning a fire, as was likely, it would not show until more than half the intervening distance was passed. The cattle were herded to the northward, so that in the event of a stampede it was easier to head them on the right course over the Great Cattle Trail.

  A person placed in the situation of young Burnet is apt to go astray, no matter how extended his experience in wandering abroad at night, unless he is able to start right. This was the difficulty with Avon, who was too wise to depend upon what impressions took possession of him, since it is almost the invariable rule that such impressions are wrong.

  There was one faint hope: the Comanches in the vicinity of the cabin had been indulging in shouting and firing their guns. These sounds would prove of great help, but to his dismay, though he sat for several minutes motionless on his mustang and listening, he heard nothing of the kind.

  He knew the wind was unfavorable, but he was compelled to believe that he had ridden much further than he first supposed, in order to be beyond reach of the reports. After mounting his mustang, he had sent him scurrying on a dead run through the bush, and kept it up for several minutes, before emerging into the open country: that was sufficient to take him a long way and, as he believed, excluded the one means of guidance which otherwise would have been his.

  “Helloa! what does that mean?”

  In peering around in the gloom, he saw, apparently a long way off to the left, a star-like point on the prairie, which shone out with an increasing gleam. Wondering what it could signify, he sat for a minute or two, attentively watching it, but unable to solve the interesting question.

  “These Comanches are as fond of smoking as are our men, and I suppose one of them has some trouble in lighting his pipe or cigarette––helloa! there it goes!”

  The light which was so interesting to him suddenly went out, and all was blank darkness again.

  He waited and looked for several minutes, but it did not reappear. At the moment it vanished, he fancied he heard a slight sound, but it was too indefinite to identify.

  Had the young man but known that the light which he had seen was burning on the roof of his own home, and that it was Dinah who extinguished it so abruptly, he would have shaped his course far differently.

  CHAPTER X.

  A SURPRISE.

  Avon Burnet waited several minutes after the light went out, in the hope that it would reappear and give him an indication of its nature and cause; but darkness continued, and he concluded that his first suspicion was right: some warrior in riding over the prairie had halted to light his cigar or pipe, and then ridden on to join his comrades near the cabin.

  The youth was in the situation of the mariner who finds himself adrift in mid-ocean, without compass or rudder. Neither the sky nor the ground gave him any help, and in order to reach the camp of his friends he must, under Heaven, rely upon his own skill.

  “There’s one thing certain,” he concluded, “I shall never get there without making a break. I have secured a pretty good horse, and I may as well turn him to account.”

  Heading in the direction which seemed right, he tapped the ribs of the mustang with his heels, and he broke at once into a sweeping gallop, which, if rightly directed, was sure to carry him to his destination in a brief while.

  Though it was too much for the young man to believe he was following the true course, he thought it was near enough for him to discover the variation before riding far. He ought to reach the crest of some elevation which would so extend his view that he would catch the gleam of the camp fire of the cattlemen.

  As the pony galloped forward with that swinging gait which he was able to maintain for hours without fatigue, the rider glanced to the right and left, in front and rear, on guard lest he ran into unexpected danger, and guarding against the approach of one or more of his foes. His horse was tractable, but the rider was disturbed now and then by his actions.

  While going with his swift gait, he occasionally checked his speed so abruptly that, had the young Texan been a less skilful equestrian, he would have pitched over his head. At such times he pricked his ears, and snuffed and threw up his head, as though frightened at something. But strive all he could, Avon failed to discover the cause of this peculiar behavior. He could neither hear nor see anything to explain it.

  Our young friend was so keenly on the alert that he was quick to notice that they were ascending quite a swell in the plain. He drew the mustang down to a walk, and when at the highest point of the elevation, brought him to a stand-still.

  No poor sailor, floating on a plank, ever strove harder to pierce the gloom in quest of a friendly light, than did Avon. His first glance in the direction which seemed to him to be right failed to show that which he longed to see. Then he slowly swept the horizon with the same searching scrutiny.

  Not the first star-like glimmer rewarded him. Blank darkness enclosed him on every hand. It was right above, below, to the right and left and to the front and rear.

  “Well, I’ll be shot if this doesn’t beat everything!” was his exclamation, when he came to understand his helplessness; “it looks as if I would have done the folks a great deal more good if I had stayed with them.”

  Slipping down from the back of his mustang, which he took care to hold by means of the halter, Avon pressed his ear to the earth, as is the practice of those in a similar situation.

  At first he thought he detected the sounds of hoofs, but the next moment he knew it was only fancy. The better conductor in the form of the ground told him no more than did the gloom that surrounded him.

  While thus engaged, the mustang tugged at the rope, as if wishing to free himself. He must have felt that he was controlled by a strange hand, but his efforts were easily restrained.

  As nearly as Avon could judge, he had travelled more than two miles since leaving the cabin, so that, provided he had followed the proper course, he must have passed half the distance. But if that were the case, he ought to see signs of the camp. It is the custom of the cattlemen, when on the move, to keep a lantern suspended from the front of the provision wagon, to serve as a guide for the rest, and this ought to be visible for several miles to one in his elevated position.

  Holding the thong in one hand, the youth now pointed his Winchester toward the sky and discharged several barrels, in the hope that the reports would reach the ears of the Texans and bring a response from them. The mustang did not stir a muscle; he was so accustomed to that sort of thing that his nerves were not disturbed.

  This appeal was equally futile, and, as Avon flung himself again upon the back of his horse, a feeling akin to despair came over him.

  “Perhaps it was quite an exploit to get through the Comanche lines without harm,” he said to himself, “but of what avail? I shall wander round and round until daylight, with no more knowledge of where I am than if I were groping among the Rocky Mountains; and, long before the rise of sun, the fate of Uncle Dohm and the folks will be settled.”

  A feeling of exasperation succeeded his depression of spirits. It was beyond endurance that he should be so near help and yet be unable to secure it. If he could but gain an inkl
ing of the right course, he would dart across the prairie with the speed of an arrow.

  He had neglected no possible means of informing himself. Recalling the direction of the wind, he strove to make use of that; but as if even the elements had united against him, he was not long in discovering that the wind was fitful and changing, and his attempt to use it as a guide had much to do with his going so far astray.

  The rifle was discharged again, but the listening ear caught no response, and the conviction forced itself upon him that, instead of journeying toward the camp, he was really further from it than when he started.

  The mustang began to grow restless once more. Avon spoke sharply, and started him off without any attempt to guide him. To his surprise, the steed turned to the left almost at right angles, and without any urging on his part, broke into a canter.

  “I don’t understand that,” said the rider; “he certainly knows more than I do, but it is too much to expect him to carry me to my destination without any direction from me. But he is as likely to be right as wrong, and so I’ll let him do as he chooses. You’re a mighty fine animal,” continued the youth, as the steed broke into a gallop, “but I wouldn’t give Thunderbolt for a hundred like you; he knows something, and when I’m caught in a fix like this, he is sure to help me out.”

  The youth feared that the mustang was trying to return to his master. He, therefore, brought him down to a walk, though he broke into a canter more than once, and leaning forward, peered through the gloom, on the alert for the first sign of danger.

  “Uncle Dohm believed the Comanches meant to set fire to the house; if he hadn’t thought so, I wouldn’t have been in this plight; it strikes me that it is about time they made a start; if they do so, I will take a hand in that little game.”

  At the first glow anywhere in the sky, telling of the use of the torch, Avon would have driven his mustang thither like the whirlwind, and it is safe to believe that his Winchester would have done more effective service than ever before. But the bright eyes which continually scanned every portion of the murky heavens caught no glimmer of a single star.