Across Texas

This point in the story was reached when the three heard the report of old Eph’s pistol, which rang out on the night with startling distinctness. It was nearer the building than the elevation where the friends were awaiting the return of the trapper.

“By gracious!” exclaimed Strubell in an excited undertone, “I can’t stay here, knowing he needs our help, for all he told us to do so.”

“And I feel the same way,” added Lattin, rising partly to his feet, “but what about leaving Herbert here?”

It was this thought that held the two for a moment, but the youth hastened to say:

“If you can do him any good, go at once; I am in no danger.”

“I think not, but I aint sure. If anything disturbs you,” added the elder, “mount your horse and make off; your pony can go as fast as any of theirs.”

But for the belief, confirmed by the action of the Apaches, that they did not suspect the presence of the whites, neither Strubell nor Lattin would have allowed Herbert to be alone; but they knew that if they were to help the trapper not a second was to be lost.

Instead of mounting their animals, they hurried down the slope on foot, breaking into a run, or rather loping trot, which enabled them to cover much ground with little noise, as their feet pressed the greensward.

The distance was considerable, and when they approached the spot where the pistol had been fired, they slackened their pace, listening and peering into the gloom, which was so deep that they could see no more than fifty feet in any direction.

“This must be near the place,” whispered Lattin, “but where is he?”

“It’s a good sign if we can’t find him, though I don’t understand why he used his pistol unless he was in trouble.”

As nearly as they could judge, they were within two or three hundred yards of the building. It was so easy to err as to the point whence the report had come that they paused, undecided what to do.

Darkness was on every hand. Not the first outlines of the structure could be distinguished, nor was there a glimpse of any man or animal. The stars were shining brightly in the clear sky, and their light was all that guided their progress.

“We’ll go a little further,” said Strubell in the same guarded undertone, “but we must be on the watch, for we’re in a bad place ourselves.”

“Sh!” At that moment, they caught the sound of a horse’s hoofs, their experience telling them the animal was on a gallop. The noise was faint – quickly dying out, thus showing that the pony was receding instead of approaching. Nothing, therefore, was to be feared from the rider of that particular animal.

To guard against passing their friend, the Texans now separated a few paces, taking care to keep within sight of each other. They pushed forward at a moderate walk, on the alert for the first evidence of danger.

A couple of rods were traversed in this manner when Lattin, who was on the left, emitted a faint hissing sound. At the same instant he sank to the ground, and Strubell was hardly a second behind him in doing the same. He saw nothing, but he knew that his friend did.

A form so dim, shadowy, and indistinct that he could trace nothing more than its outlines took shape in the gloom itself, a short distance in front of Lattin, who was so quick to utter the warning to his companion. It was not a horseman, but a man on foot.

The suspicion that it might be the trapper caused the Texan to give another faint call – so faint indeed that the alert ear of an Apache would not have noticed it. Old Eph would be sure, however, to read its meaning.

But the reply was not satisfactory. Instead of answering it with a similar signal, the silence was not broken, and, while the Texan was peering into the darkness, he became aware that he was staring at vacancy. The form had melted into the gloom – proof that it was moving in another direction.

“It must have been one of the varmints,” whispered Lattin, as he stepped noiselessly to the side of his friend, “but I didn’t s’pose they was walkin’ round instead of ridin’ their animals.”

“They must suspect something; I guess Eph got through, after all.”

“We’ll go a little further,” said Lattin, turning to the left again; “maybe he’s hurt so bad he can’t help himself.”

The stillness continued, until once more they came together with the decision to return to the elevation where they had left Herbert. The fact that the Apaches were moving about on foot caused uneasiness concerning him, and they thought it best to return at once.

“Do you see it?” asked Strubell.

“Yes; we’re further along than I thought.”

It was the old mission building to which they alluded. It loomed to view in the darkness, its outlines dimly traceable against the starlit sky beyond. Not the first glimmer of a light showed, nor could the strained ear catch the semblance of a sound. But for that glimpse of the man on foot they would have believed the Apaches had departed with the coming of night.

It was idle to stay longer, and they turned about, moving off with the same care displayed from the first, for they were more anxious than either would confess to rejoin the youth, further away than they wished was the case.

The result of their venture did much to relieve them of fear concerning Eph Bozeman, though it was not altogether satisfactory. He might have collided with several Apaches on foot, and been despatched. It was impossible in the darkness to strike the exact spot where the meeting occurred, and, for aught they knew, the body of the old trapper was lying at that moment, cold and lifeless, with the face upturned to the stars.

As the distance from the building increased, the Texans hastened their footsteps, and it was a striking proof of their skill in such delicate situations that they came back to the elevation within a rod of the spot where they had left it. Without anything to guide them, except that strange, unexplainable intuition or instinct, this was a remarkable exploit in its way.

But to their alarm, when they peered about them, after recognizing the place, they failed to see Herbert.

“Something must have alarmed him,” said Strubell; “but I hope it was nothing serious.”

“We’ll soon know,” said Lattin, who moved hastily back to where the horses had been placed. He was away but a moment when he came back.

“The ponies are all there but his; he’s gone.”

CHAPTER XXX.

A FIGURE IN THE DARKNESS

FOR the first time since joining the Texans in the pursuit of Bell Rickard and his captive, Herbert Watrous found himself entirely alone. He was lying on his face in the grass, at the top of the elevation, peering out in the night, and watching and listening for signs of friends and enemies.

It was not until the Texans had been gone several minutes that he began to fancy his own situation was threatened with the same peril that had overtaken Eph Bozeman, the trapper.

“They were never certain the Apaches didn’t find out we were here,” he thought, “and they may have been wrong in thinking that warrior did not observe us. If those people are as cunning as I have been told, who can say that their actions were not meant to throw two such experienced hunters as Strubell and Lattin off their guard?”

This was figuring matters to a fine point, and the result was that Herbert reasoned himself into a most uncomfortable frame of mind before his friends had been absent a quarter of an hour.

“I have half a mind to go out and mount Jill,” he added, “and move off somewhere else; I would do it if the chances were not that I would ride into a worse place than this – my gracious!”

He was looking in the direction of the mission building, when something assumed form in the darkness immediately in front. Like the figure that caught the notice of Lattin at about the same time, the outlines were so indistinct that he could not identify it at first, but, with amazement and alarm, he speedily saw that a horseman had halted at the foot of the slope, with the face of himself and steed turned toward him. They were as motionless as if carved in stone, and their approach had been accompanied with no sound that reached the ear of Herbert.

There was something so uncanny in the apparition that, after first identifying it, the youth suspected it was a mistake, and that something affected his vision. He turned his gaze away, and even looked behind him. The result was similar to that which is noticeable when we gaze at the Pleiades on a clear night. Keen scrutiny shows but six stars, one modestly withdrawing before our ardent gaze, to reappear when we glance carelessly in the direction again.

Bringing back his eyes from their groping, Herbert saw the horseman so plainly that no room for doubt remained. He was there at the foot of the slope, apparently staring upward in the darkness with the same intensity that the lad was studying him.

There was no room for hoping that this stranger was a friend, for none of them had left the spot with his animal. It followed, therefore, that he was an Apache out for mischief, since that was the only errand that ever took those miscreants abroad.

“I believe it is the same one that rode to the top of the elevation just before night,” thought Herbert; “he saw enough to know something is wrong, and is now seeking to find out for himself. He mustn’t interfere with me,” added the youth, compressing his lips, as he brought his rifle round in front.

Had the Apache made a charge upon him, Herbert would have let fly without an instant’s hesitation. He was inclined to fire as it was; but, like the manly boy that he had become, he shrank from doing that which looked so much like a crime. Villainous as were the red men, he could not force himself to shoot one down in so heartless a fashion.

Besides, there was the possibility that the Indian did not know that anyone was on the elevation. Indeed, it might be said that the very appearance as described was evidence that he lacked such knowledge, for he had placed himself in a peril which one of his tribe would be sure to avoid. Herbert therefore decided to await more positive evidence of wrong intent before making any movement against the fellow.

His heart gave a quick throb when he discovered that the horseman was advancing. He heard the sound of his pony’s hoofs, followed by a more distinct outlining of both.

“I do believe I shall have to drop him,” thought Herbert, “and I wouldn’t wait any longer if I wasn’t afraid that it would bring the rest to the spot.”

It was this fear that restrained him. There were likely to be others near who would swarm thither at the report of his gun, and more than likely make him prisoner, or slay him before he could leap into the saddle and dash off.

Self-interest urged him to wait until the last moment.

He reasoned that it was impossible for the sharp-eyed warrior to see him, since he was still flat in the grass; he must have possessed wonderful acumen to make his way to the spot in the darkness.

“It all depends on you,” was Herbert’s decision; “if you keep your distance no one will be hurt, but one step more and there will be a missing Apache.”

The action of the latter was singular, for, after advancing a brief space, he again checked his pony and stood as motionless as before.

Nothing was clearer than that something was suspected at least by the red man to cause him to act in this manner. It may have been that his pony was the suspicious one, and the rider was debating with himself whether to explore further or give it up.

Undoubtedly it was fortunate for himself as well as for Herbert that he did not take long to reach a conclusion. At the moment the youth believed a meeting was certain, his steed wheeled and was off like a shot in the darkness – gone before Herbert could have taken any aim.

He drew a sigh of relief at being left alone once more and so unexpectedly.

“I believe that warrior will be back,” was his conclusion, “and if he is he won’t find me here.”

Recalling the advice of Strubell, he hurried to where the horses had been left. They seemed to have concluded that the coming of night released them from the command of their masters to remain on the ground, for the whole four were on their feet, cropping the grass. Their saddles were in place, but their bits had been shifted to allow them to eat, and each one was improving his time.

Jill gave a faint whinny on recognizing his master, and seemed pleased to feel him in the saddle again.

“I don’t know which way to go now that I’m ready,” thought Herbert, “but it won’t do to ride far, or Strubell and Lattin will have another young man’s ransom to arrange for.”

Manifestly the counsel of his friends was meant that he should hold himself ready to flee the instant it became necessary, but until then, the chances were even that he would not decrease his peril by a change of quarters.

A creditable motive led Herbert to adopt what might be called a compromise, and which was not lacking in a certain acuteness.

If he remained until detected by the Apaches, and should then dash off, they were sure to discover the other horses, and would shoot or stampede them, leaving the three men in a hapless plight; but if Herbert were charged upon at some other point, even if not far removed, the animals might be overlooked in the flurry of pursuit.

He therefore rode his pony parallel with the elevation and in a southern direction, until he had gone a hundred yards or more, when he drew up, and awaited the development of events.

He did not go to the top of the slight ridge, but near enough to peer over without showing anything more than the head of himself and Jill.

All this time he did not forget the risk that would be run by getting too far from his friends. If they were to be troubled by trying to reunite with him, the complication was likely to affect Nick Ribsam as well. To prevent himself going astray, he therefore held along the ridge. That could not fail to be a sure guide to him whenever he wished to retrace his steps, for he had only to follow its course in reverse to reach the former place in a brief space of time.

His position now was quite similar to that of the Apache a short while before, for he was motionless on his steed, facing the top of the ridge, and waiting, watching and listening for whatever might come.

“The whole party of Apaches,” he said to himself, “may be stealing toward this spot, thinking to find us all within their reach.”

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE RETURN

HERBERT was quite sure the Texans would not be gone long, unless they, too, became involved in a fight with the dusky raiders and shared in the probable fate of Eph Bozeman. If such proved to be the case, there would be sounds of the conflict, which would be as brief as it was desperate, and it was those for which he listened while sitting in his saddle on the slope.

The stillness remaining unbroken, he turned his pony toward the point he had left, and found, on reaching it, that Strubell and Lattin had arrived a few minutes before and were becoming anxious over his absence.

It was now a question whether the three should stay where they were or go elsewhere with their animals. The Apaches were prowling around the surrounding country so closely that it looked as if they had located the group. Such was the view of Strubell and Herbert, but Lattin, on the other hand, was so positive that their enemies knew nothing of their presence that the others agreed to stay where they were until something more certain became known.

Trouble was likely to follow a change of base, since the trapper on his return would be puzzled to find them, though the Texans would be sure to give him all the help they could, and that was considerable.

There was nothing therefore to do but to wait, the most wearisome occupation of anyone. The nerves of all were strung to such a high point that there was little inclination to sleep. It was a long time since they had eaten or drank, and they were in need of food and drink, but no step was to be taken for the procurement of either until the momentous question was settled.

Lattin believed that the Indian horseman seen by Herbert received no inkling of the truth. His pony had detected something, and his rider, bringing him to a halt, sat looking and listening for the explanation that did not come. Concluding it was some wild animal or reptile moving in the grass, he had dashed off to join his companions.

Inasmuch as both the Texans were in accord by this time in the theory that they were not discovered by the red men, at the time of the scare just before sunset, the youth felt no fear in that regard. It followed therefore that the Apaches were unaware of their presence, and were not likely to learn of it except through some accident.

No one could forecast the result of the pistol shot that had rung out over the prairie, and which showed that the trapper’s stealthy journey to the building had not been without incident.

The little company spoke only at intervals, and then in whispers. Their eyes and ears were so intently engaged that conversation interfered. The stillness was so profound that the champing of the horses was heard as they cropped the grass, while the sound of the hoofs was so distinct when they shifted about, that it seemed to Herbert they must draw the Apaches to the spot.

By and by one of the ponies stopped eating and lay down, then two others did the same, but the fourth kept it up so long that Lattin was about to go out and compel him to retire to his couch, when he did so. This left the quiet so perfect that it would have taken a wonderfully skilful warrior to steal up undetected on foot, and it was impossible for a horseman to do so.

The stars twinkled from a sky that was unclouded except in the western horizon, where a bank of clouds climbed part way to the zenith and shut out a portion of the faint light. In whatever direction the watchers gazed was the same blank darkness. Though they knew that men were near and constantly in motion, no glimpse of them was obtained.

“Baker,” said the elder Texan in his guarded undertone, “I’m going to sleep for half an hour.”

“All right,” replied his companion; “I’ll do the same when you wake up.”

Strubell made not the slightest change in his position. He simply turned his head sideways upon his arm, bent at the elbow, and shut his eyes. Almost at the same moment he became unconscious.

The party had not removed their blankets from the backs of the ponies, through fear that it might delay them whenever a sudden movement should become necessary. They were stretched at full length on the grass. In that salubrious country, with its pure, dry air, there was no thought of ill results therefrom.

Herbert was near Lattin, and he asked:

“Will he wake at the end of the half hour?”

“If he don’t I’ll wake him,” replied the other; “but I never knew Ard to vary more’n a minute or two.”

“What do you make of Bozeman’s long absence? Several hours must have gone by.”

“It seems later than it is, but I expected him back before this.”

“How do you account for his delay?”

“There may be several causes,” replied Lattin; “in the first place, maybe he run into a hornets’ nest and was knifed before he could shoot a second chamber of his revolver. Them Apaches work quick at such business, and they would shove Eph under in the style of greased lightning.”

“But,” suggested Herbert, who was after every grain of comfort, “it might be he found trouble in getting inside the building.”

“That’s likely, though Ard and me went up in sight of it without runnin’ agin any of the varmints; but it couldn’t have kept him all this time, for if he didn’t get inside long ago he would have given up and come back to us.”

“Do you suppose there has been any trouble with Rickard?”

“I don’t see what trouble there could be; all the work Eph had was to find out the best the scamp would do, and then either agree or disagree with him. The most likely trouble is that Eph found the varmints so plentiful when he started to come back that he hasn’t been able to get through and is waiting for the chance.”

“If that proves the case, what will be done in the morning?”

“It’s hard to tell till the morning comes. Rickard and Slidham may come out to help us fight our way in.”

The incident was not impossible, but what a unique state of affairs it suggested! It recalled the affairs in the Southwest, during the Mexican War, when a party of Comanches and “Greasers” would assail a handful of Americans, working as the most ardent allies until the Americans were disposed of, when the Mexicans and Indians would turn upon each other like cat o’ mountains.

“Hello!” said Lattin a few minutes later, “there’s the moon.”

The upper edge of the gibbous orb was creeping above the horizon, and looked like the point of a fiery spear as it climbed rapidly upward.

“That’s going to give us help,” said Herbert, watching the satellite, whose ascent was strikingly swift.

“I don’t know about that,” replied the Texan; “it will let us see further ‘cross the prairie, but don’t forget that it’ll do the same for the varmints. It won’t be so easy for Eph to get back as it was to go forward, always providin’ that he did go forward.”

Strubell slumbered as quietly as an infant. His breathing could not be heard, even in the perfect stillness which reigned. Herbert glanced at him more than once, with an odd fear that perhaps he was dead, but that was hardly possible.

Knowing the direction of the building, Lattin and Herbert tried to peer through the gloom and see it, but the light was insufficient to show its most shadowy outlines.

“Baker,” whispered the youth, “I think I see something out there toward the building.”

“Whether you do or not,” replied the Texan, “I’m sure I do; someone is comin’ this way.”

“It must be an Apache.”

“Keep quiet; we’ll soon see.”

As the hunter spoke, he made sure his rifle was ready to fire the instant it should become necessary. He was not troubled by the tender conscience of his companion in that respect.

The approaching figure was on foot, and, though advancing without noise, did so swiftly. It rapidly grew more distinct in the gloom, until the broad-brimmed hat, the massive frame, with the long rifle grasped in one hand, left no doubt of its identity.

It was old Eph Bozeman returning at last.

CHAPTER XXXII.

THE ENCOUNTER

SUFFICIENT has been told to show that Eph Bozeman’s stealthy approach to the mission building was attended by one stirring incident, if not more.

Leaving his comrades on the crest of the elevation, he strode forward at a rapid pace, until he had passed most of the intervening distance. Then he slackened his gait and crouched low, his body bent, until he resembled a person gathering himself for a powerful leap. This was his favorite posture when engaged upon such dangerous business, and he kept it until prudence told him there was too great a risk attending it.

His object was to defer creeping to the last moment, since his progress must become slower, but he was too much of a veteran to allow the question of convenience to detract from his vigilance.

At the point he had fixed in his mind he sank to the ground, and began using his hands and knees, not the most agreeable form of locomotion, since, as will be remembered, he carried his heavy rifle with him.

As yet he had seen and heard nothing of the Apaches, but believed a brush with them was inevitable before he could enter the building. He reasoned that since they knew of the presence of the white men inside, and were unaware of the others outside, they would devote themselves to circling about the structure, and maintaining a sharp lookout that none of the occupants got away during the night. The prospect of adding two or three more victims to the long list of massacres they had committed in the Southwest was too tempting to be passed by, until all prospect of success was gone.

The trapper’s belief was that the warriors would remain mounted, though he was too experienced to guide his own movements upon that theory alone.

So long as he kept his position close to the earth, he could discover the approach of a horseman before the latter saw him, to say nothing of the slight noise of the pony’s hoofs, which was sure to betray him.

Twice he caught the latter sound, and ceasing his progress lay flat, listening and peering around in the gloom; but the riders did not come nigh enough for him to discern them; and after a brief wait he resumed his slow and laborious progress.