CHAPTER IV
BACK TO "BIG B."
"Well, we haven't caught up to 'em yet," remarked Joe Duncan, about noonthe next day, when they stopped for a little lunch and to allow thehorses to drink at a water hole and rest.
"No, the beggars keep well ahead of us," agreed Blake, shading his eyeswith his hand and gazing off across the hot, sunlit stretch that laybefore them. "Oh, if they have opened those film boxes!" he exclaimedhopelessly.
"They have ponies, and that's more than I calculated on," remarked Hank."I thought when they raided our camp that they were after our animals,and when they didn't take 'em I thought it was because they were afraidof being chased as horse-thieves by a sheriff's posse. Now I see theydidn't want our mounts, as they had plenty of their own. It was grubthey were after, and they got it."
"And our picture films," added Blake. "Don't forget that."
"That was only a mistake, I tell you," insisted Hank, "though, for thatmatter, the Indians wouldn't hesitate to take 'em just for fun, if theythought they could make trouble that way."
"And they will make a heap of trouble, too, I'm afraid," spoke Blake.
"Here now!" called Joe, in jollier tones. "Don't come any of that C. C.Piper business, Blake. Look on the bright side."
"Well, I suppose I ought to, but it's hard work."
They had traveled all that morning, hoping to come up with the rovingband of Indians. But they had had no success.
Hank did pick up the trail of the raiders soon after starting out. TheIndians had left their horses tethered some distance from the camp, andhad crept up afoot, probably having spied Blake, Joe and Hank from afarthe previous evening. And though the moccasined feet of the savages leftlittle trace on the hard and sun-baked earth, there was enough "sign"for so experienced a trailer as was Hank to pick up.
Thus he had been led to where the horses had been left, and after thatit was easy enough to follow the marks of the hoofs.
"There are about twenty-five in this band, as near as I can make out,"said Hank, "and every one of 'em has a horse of some sort. Pretty goodtravelers, too, I take it, since our animals were fresh and we haven'tbeen able to come up to 'em yet, though we've kept up a pretty fairgait. But we'll get 'em yet."
"If only it isn't too late," spoke Blake, whose one fear was that thevaluable picture films would be spoiled. "Let's hurry on."
"Another little rest will do the horses good," said the cowboy guide."Then we can push on so much the faster. Our horses are our bestfriends, and we've got to treat 'em right if we want the best serviceout of them. Another half-hour and we'll push on."
And, though Blake fretted and fumed at the delay, he knew it would notbe best to insist on having his way. Soon, however, they were in thesaddle again and once more in pursuit.
"The trail is getting fresher," declared Hank, about four o'clock thatafternoon. "Their horses are tiring, I guess, and ours seem to beholding out pretty well."
"Which means----" began Joe.
"That we may get up to them before dark," went on the cowboy. "And thenwe'll see what happens."
"Will they run, do you think?" inquired Blake.
"They will as long as their horses hold out, for they must know thatthis ghost-dance business is about over and that most of their friendsare back on the reservations. But when we come up to them----" and thecowboy paused and significantly examined his revolver.
"Does it mean a fight?" went on Blake, and he could not restrain a catchin his breath. It was one thing to have an Indian fight with someshelter, but different out in the open.
"Well, I hardly think it will be what you might call regular andup-to-date fighting," replied Hank. "They may fire their guns andrevolvers at us to try and frighten us back, but I don't actuallybelieve that they'll make trouble. They know the punishment would be tooserious. And I believe a lot of those Indians have only blank cartridgesthat they had when they were in some Wild West show. I know there wasmighty little whining of bullets, for all the shooting they did lastnight. But, at the same time," he went on, "it's best to be prepared foremergencies."
They continued on, and the boys had now become so used to the signs ofthe Indian trail that they could note the changes almost as well ascould Hank.
Here they could see where a rest was made, and again where some animalwent out of the beaten path. Bits of the Indians' finery, too, werenoted every once in a while--a bit of gaudy bead trimming, a discardedmoccasin or some dyed feathers.
"I do hope we come up with them before dark," said Joe. "If we have tostay out on the trail all night, and part of next day, we may findnothing left of our things and the pack burros when we reach campagain."
In order to make better time our friends had left behind, at the placewhere the Indians had raided them, the pack animals, their cameras, afew films not taken by the Indians, and as much of their provisions asthey thought would not be needed on the trail.
"I think this evening will end it," declared Hank. "We might push on alittle faster, as the going is good right here."
The horses were urged to greater speed, and they responded gamely. Theyseemed to realize the necessity for haste, and took advantage of themomentary betterment in the surface over which they were traveling.
The sun was sinking lower and lower in the west and the shadows werelengthening. Eagerly the boys and the cowboy scout peered ahead,straining their eyes for a glimpse of those whom they were pursuing.Then there came a bit of rough ground, and the pace was slower. Nextfollowed a little rise, and, as this was topped, Blake, who had takenthe lead for a short distance, uttered a cry and pointed forward witheager hand.
"What is it?" cried Joe and Hank together.
"There they are!" yelled Blake. "The Indians! Right below us! Come on!"
Riding to his side, the others saw a sharp descent, then a level plainstretching away for many miles. And moving slowly over this plain was aband of about twenty-five Indians, mounted on ponies that seemedscarcely able to move.
"That's them!" cried Hank, as he dug his heels into the sides of hishorse. "At 'em, boys! A short, swift gallop will bring us up to 'em now,and then--well, we'll see what will happen!"
"Come on!" yelled Blake, and side by side the trio rode down into thevalley, their animals seeming to take on new strength as they saw theirquarry before them.
"They've noticed us!" exclaimed Blake.
"That's right!" agreed Hank. "Well, now to see if we can catch 'em!"
A movement amid the stragglers of the band told that they had glimpsedthe approach of the whites. There was a distant shout, and at once thewhole party was galloping off.
"They'll distance us!" cried Blake. "They're going to get away!"
"Not very far," was Hank's opinion. "Their horses are about done up.This is a last spurt."
His trained eye had shown him that the Indians were using quirts andtheir heels to spur the tired animals to a last burst of speed. True,the ponies did leap ahead for a few minutes; but not even the wildshouting of the redmen, the frantic beating of their steeds, and thefiring of their guns could make the wearied muscles of the poniesrespond for long.
The spurt lasted only a few seconds, and then came a noticeable slowingdown. On the contrary, the horses of our friends, though they hadtraveled far and hard, were in better condition and much fresher.
"Come on!" cried Hank, rising in his stirrups and swinging his hataround his head, while he sent forth yells of defiance. "Come on, boys!We have 'em!"
He, too, began to shoot, but in the air as before, and the boys followedhis example. Their horses were shortening the distance between the twoparties.
Suddenly one of the Indians was observed to toss something from him. Itfell to the ground and rolled to one side of the trail.
"What's that?" cried Joe.
"One of the boxes of exposed film!" cried Blake. "They know what we'reafter. Oh, if only it isn't damaged!"
"We can soon tell!" cried Hank, taking the lead. Then he yelled, betweenreports of his r
evolver:
"Hi there! you red beggars, give up! Drop that stuff you took from ourcamp! You haven't any of the grub left, I suppose, but we want thosepictures! Drop 'em!"
Whether his talk was understood, or not, was not known; but others ofthe Indians began tossing away either boxes of film or otherthings--aside from food--which they had taken from the camp. They neverstopped their horses, though, but ever urged on the tired beasts.
"Here's the first reel!" cried Blake, as he came up to where it lay.Quickly dismounting, he picked it up.
"Not hurt a bit!" he cried exultantly; "and the seals haven't beenbroken, showing that it hasn't been opened."
"Good!" cried Hank. "You go slow and pick up what you can, and Joe and Iwill chase after the Indians. Evidently they're going to run for it."
And it did seem so. The Indians never paused, but continued to tossaway article after article. They seemed afraid of the consequencesshould they be caught with anything belonging to the whites in theirpossession. They may have taken Hank and the boys for the advance-guardof a sheriff's posse, and, knowing they had been doing wrong, wereafraid. At any rate they made no stand.
"I've got 'em all!" finally yelled Blake.
"Then there's no use chasing after 'em any farther," said Hank. "Holdon, Joe," for the boy was pushing on.
The horses of the pursuers were pulled down to a walk. The Indiansnoticed this at once, and, seeming to realize that the chase was over,they halted, and, turning, gazed in a body at the moving picture boysand their cowboy guide.
"Had enough, I reckon," murmured Hank. "I guess you can't go on muchfarther. Well, we'll turn back a ways and put some miles between us, soyou won't try any of your tricks again, and then we'll go into campourselves. Got everything, Blake?"
"Yes, every reel of film, and not one has been opened, by good luck.Maybe they thought it was powerful 'medicine,' and didn't want to runany chances."
"We don't care, as long as we have 'em back," remarked Joe, gleefully."And now for a good rest."
They turned back, and as they did so the Indians gave a last shout ofdefiance and began to make camp for themselves. It was as if a lot ofschoolboys, playing truant, had been rounded up, and as a lastindication of defiance had given their class yell.
"Good riddance to you," remarked Hank. "I don't want to see you againfor a good many years."
Collecting the things the Indians had thrown away, our friends rode onuntil dark, and then, out of sight of the roving redmen, they made asimple camp. They stood guard by turns, but there was no night alarm.The next day they reached the place where they had picketed the packanimals. Nothing had been disturbed.
"And now for Big B ranch!" exclaimed Blake, when once more the littlecavalcade was under way.
"And glad enough I'll be to see it!" said Hank; "though I sure will missyou fellows."
"The same here," echoed Joe, and Blake nodded in accord.
They traveled on for another day, finding good water and plenty ofgrazing for the steeds. Their provisions ran a bit low, for the Indianshad helped themselves liberally, but they managed to shoot some smallgame.
And, on the second day after parting from the Indians, they topped arise, from the height of which Hank cried:
"There she is, boys!"
"What?" asked Blake.
"Big B ranch! We're back in civilization again!"
The Moving Picture Boys on the Coast Page 4