Across Texas

Were the continued absence and silence of the cowboys explainable on any other theory than their own overthrow?

These questions, however, were put out of sight by the personal peril of Nick Ribsam, and the anxiety of Herbert to do something for him without delay.

His first inclination was to gallop back over the trail to the point where he left Strubell and Lattin the afternoon before, and tell them what had taken place. They were the only ones of whom aid could reasonably be expected.

But it has been shown that he feared the worst concerning them. Time was precious, and to cross the ridge and return would take a half hour, which might be fatal to any other step toward helping Nick. This fear was intensified by the discovery that the walk of the ponies to the westward had become a gallop, which was fast widening the gap between them and the ridge, where the distressed Herbert was trying to settle what he ought to do, if indeed he could do anything, for his loved friend.

“I will follow them,” was the conclusion which he reached after briefly thinking over every phase of the question; “I don’t know that it will do Nick any good, but it’s just what he would do if our situations were changed.”

Herbert was well aware that in making this important decision, the only possible hope – and it was slight indeed – of doing anything for Nick was by using the utmost discretion.

One might well ask what chance he could have against three veteran plainsmen, who were without principle or honor. Had Herbert himself been asked the question, he would have found it hard to answer. It may be said that something in the nature of a ransom suggested itself, though he was too wise to build much hope on that means.

The one thing clear in his mind was that he must hide his pursuit, if he could do so, from all knowledge of the abductors. If they possessed a field glass, as he believed was likely, they must have discerned him at the foot of the hills, provided the instrument was turned in that direction. Hopeful, however, that they had not done so, he drew his pony behind a sheltering rock, and held his gaze fixed on the horsemen, who maintained their gallop, which was fast taking them out of his natural field of vision.

He waited until the fluttering specks were barely perceptible to the unassisted eye, and then decided to follow the trail a little way to the southward, before wheeling to the west. He thought it less likely that he would be noticed, if he left the hills at a point removed from where he had been waiting so long, and where, had the criminals observed him, they would look for his reappearance.

He had ridden no more than a hundred yards, when, to his astonishment, he came upon the site of the strangers’ last encampment. It was directly beside the trail, where there was no water, but the smouldering camp fire and the cropped grass showed that several hours had been passed there. More important than all to the solitary pursuer was the finding of the remains of an antelope that had furnished the party with a meal. The youth had not eaten food since the preceding noon, and, highly wrought as were his feelings, he was faint and in need of nourishment. Enough fragments were scattered about for him to obtain all he wanted in that line, so long as he was not over fastidious.

Since he was hungry and there was no saying when he could secure another meal, Herbert was wise in eating his fill. Then, when he swung himself into the saddle, he looked across the plain and failed to see the horsemen; but the glass, being brought into play, revealed them apparently in the very rim of the horizon.

“Ah, they have changed their course!” he exclaimed; “that looks as if they had no instrument after all and think I am beyond their sight.”

It will be remembered that beyond the level stretch of country, another and loftier range of hills showed against the clear sky. The horsemen were moving toward them, and Herbert believed it was with the purpose of misleading him or anyone that undertook to follow them. True, the trail left by them was so marked that, once taken, it could be maintained without trouble to the end; but, for reasons already shown, they were warranted in considering that improbable.

The pursuer, however, decided to take no chances that he could avoid. Having started from the encampment of the preceding night, he was on their track from the beginning, and he meant to maintain it to the end.

Everyone knows how deceptive distance is in the clear air of the plains. Objects that appear but a few miles away prove to be two and three times as far. Herbert Watrous had been long enough in Texas to learn this fact. The range that he had noticed the afternoon before seemed to be within half a day’s ride, but he was convinced it would require brisk traveling to reach it by sunset.

Then, too, the plan he had fixed upon forced him to keep a long way to the rear, so that, if the horsemen struck the other range by set of sun, the night would be well along before he could come up with them. There was no moon to help him, and this might interfere with his programme.

But, as may be said, he had put his hand to the plough and did not look back.

Contrary, however, to the maxim, this was an unfortunate mistake on his part; for, had he, after riding the major part of the distance, turned in his saddle and surveyed the course traversed, he would have made an important discovery, and one, too, that must have had an important bearing on the almost hopeless enterprise in which he was engaged.

But Herbert’s interest was all in front. Nick Ribsam was in the power of his enemies, and possibly he could aid him, though common sense told him that the chances were as ninety-nine to one that he would end the business by putting himself in the same hole. A party of desperate men that were cunning enough to make the sagacious Nick prisoner were not likely to be annoyed by anything Herbert Watrous could do to checkmate them; but youth is ardent and hopeful, and none of these things weakened the pursuit of the New Yorker.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE SECOND RANGE OF HILLS

BUT while riding across the level plain, Herbert Watrous did a good deal of thinking, and strove hard to fix upon the wisest course to benefit the missing Nick.

Now, as I have intimated, nothing could be clearer than the foolhardiness of trying to outwit the criminals, or to aid his friend by his own shrewdness. They had made a prisoner of the youth, who Herbert knew was his superior in every respect, and could well afford to laugh at the utmost he essayed to do.

Without attempting to answer the many questions that presented themselves, he confined his speculation to one or two bearing directly upon the important business on which he was engaged.

Admitting that Bell Rickard, the crooked dealer in horse-flesh, had made a prisoner of Nick Ribsam, it followed that he held no intention of doing him immediate harm. Had his anger been as deep and resentful as supposed, he would have shot him down at sight, instead of taking him on a long ride. Herbert shuddered at the thought that possibly he meant to prolong his suffering and torture, as do the American Indians in the case of their captives, and that his revenge would be carried out that evening. This theory, however, was so violent that it caused the youth less worriment than would be supposed. He could not believe that Rickard held any such shocking purpose. This brought Herbert back to his former belief that the frugal criminal was managing things with a view of forcing a ransom from the friends of his prisoner. While he saw numerous objections to the idea, he decided to act upon it. He meant to ride straight into the camp of the thieves, and demand their reason for what they had done.

If Rickard would agree to release Nick for a reasonable sum, Herbert would gladly pay it. He had considerable money with him, and, if that proved insufficient, he could give him drafts that would be honored in San Antonio, Santa Fé, or San Francisco. It will be remembered that Mr. Watrous had liberally provided for his son in this respect.

Should Rickard accept the proposition, he would still hold the whip hand, in case he chose to betray both boys; but it was idle to speculate. Time enough to face the varying conditions as they presented themselves.

By the time this decision crystallized in the mind of Herbert, the afternoon was half gone, and he had ridden a good many miles. He had seen no water, and, though he allowed Jill to rest himself by walking at times, yet he forced him to the verge of imprudence. Both he and his master were thirsty and hungry, but had to wait a convenient season before attending to their wants.

At intervals, he had raised his glass and studied the party, well in advance, but, as he was on their trail, this was not necessary, and a couple of hours passed without his doing so. He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he rode at the easy, swinging gait which Jill could maintain for a long time without fatigue, paying no attention to his surroundings.

The afternoon was far along, and he was drawing near the ridge that had seemed so near ever since starting, when he roused himself with the thought that he must keep his senses about him, and cease the speculating and daydreaming in which he had indulged so long.

His first natural act was to look ahead for the horsemen, but the unaided eye could not see them. The helpful field glass was then levelled, and he scanned the base of the hills from a point well to the south, along his front, and a considerable way to the north, but was surprised to observe nothing of them.

“They have ridden in among the hills, where they are out of sight, but that will make little difference, as long as I stick to their trail – ”

He checked his utterance in dismay, for, looking down at the ground, he discovered that he was not on the track of the party at all. While rapt in a brown study, his pony had left it, and the anxious eyes which scanned the prairie on all sides failed to detect the first imprint of a horse’s hoofs.

“Well, this is a pretty pass!” he exclaimed impatiently, as he reined up; “I left it to you, Jill, not doubting that you would attend to business; but, after all, it was my own fault.”

Reflection, however, convinced him that the case was not so bad after all. He could not be far astray, and he decided to press on toward the hills, and gallop along their base, until he struck the missing trail.

That which caused him anxiety was the lateness of the hour. The top of the ridge already shut the sun from sight, and, ere long, night would close over the scene, so obscuring the footprints that further search must be hopeless.

It was this fact which caused him to touch his spur sharply against the side of Jill, and force him to a pace that he would not have done in his tired condition, but for the urgency of the case.

Jill responded gamely to the demand, galloping with a speed that caused the still wind to whistle by the rider’s face. The hills were so close that a half hour carried him to the base, and he once more brought the animal down to a walk.

It was now a question whether he was too far north or too far to the south of the point of entrance by the party in advance. If he should err, there was not enough daylight remaining to correct the mistake; he would of necessity be forced to wait until morning before going on.

Since he had to guess at it, he acted on the theory that he had struck the ridge to the south. He therefore wheeled his pony to the right, and touched him into a leisurely canter, while he kept his eyes fixed on the ground, as it swept under the hoofs of the animal.

It was certainly remarkable that Herbert’s thoughts remained so fixed upon what was in front that he gave little or no attention to the rear. Once, it is true, he glanced back over the long space ridden during the day, and noted that the ridge, which had been the scene of his stirring experience of the previous night, was fast fading from sight; but the survey was so brief and hasty that it failed to take in an important feature in which he was directly concerned.

Better fortune attended his search than he anticipated, for he had ridden only a little way when he struck the footprints of the horses. It was still so light that he could readily detect them without dismounting, but that there should be no mistake, he slipped from the saddle, and, holding the bridle in one hand, walked several rods, carefully studying the marks in the earth.

He was right. It was easy to see that six horses had passed that way but a short time before. Two of them must have been the pack animals, while the others included Nick Ribsam’s Jack, and the three belonging to Bell Rickard and his two companions.

Their course along the eastern base of the hills showed the riders were searching for a favorable point of entrance. This looked as if the party was not fully familiar with the section, though it was by no means certain this was so.

Herbert began to feel misgivings, as he observed the twilight deepening into darkness, while the trail still kept the same course, varying a little now and then to the right or left with the changing course of the elevation.

By and by, the gloom became so pronounced that he drew his pony down to a walk, and, leaning over the saddle, studied the ground with the closest scrutiny. It was not long before this proved insufficient and he again dismounted.

“It makes slow work,” he said, “but it is sure – well, I’ll be hanged!”

Again there were no footprints before him! The ground showed not the least impression when he struck a match and stooped over.

“We can’t be far off the track, Jill; we must now take the back trail, as the hunters say.”

Holding the bridle in his left hand, he began carefully retracing his steps; but, instead of hunting for the path, he looked for the point where it had turned in among the hills. This must be close at hand, for the footprints were lost only a short time before.

He had advanced a little more than a hundred yards, when he observed an opening among the stunted vegetation and bowlders wide enough to allow a horse to pass through without trouble.

“This looks as if it might be the right place,” he said, stopping and scrutinizing it; “we’ll soon find out.”

Another lucifer was called into play. He bent down, holding it before his head; and, as the tiny flame spread, he uttered an exclamation of delight. He had recovered the trail!

CHAPTER XIX.

IN THE RAVINE

THE discovery that he was so near the party caused Herbert’s heart to beat faster than usual. He felt the need of prudence and caution at every step, since he could not know whether Rickard was aware of his pursuit. It might be that the fellow had discovered it and laid an ambush for him.

But, in accordance with his previous resolution, he pushed on, leading his pony by the bridle, until he had penetrated a number of rods among the hills, when he once more paused.

He was struck by the resemblance between the ridge and the one where he had spent the previous night. The curious exception, however, was that the trail that he was following was without any ascent. Thus it was that, when he stopped, he found the rocks and trees rising on either hand, as if he was entering a cañon or deep ravine. The ground showed no grass, but was so gravelly under his feet, and so filled with stones and hollows, that he was sure a torrent or river, at some time or other, had forced its way over the bed.

That which checked him abruptly was his stepping into a pool of water, into which one foot sank to the knee. He hastily drew back, with a slight gasp caused by its coolness, and then, observing nothing distinctly in the gloom, struck a match.

The air was as still as in a vault, and it was unnecessary to shade the little blaze which he held in front and above his head.

The pool was so narrow that he could easily leap to the other side. It was clear, and Jill showed his appreciation of the boon by thrusting his nose into it and drinking his fill. Herbert himself was thirsty enough to lie down on his face and do the same.

He found that the ravine which he had entered had a varying width of a dozen to fifty feet, with precipitous sides, composed of such a mass of jagged and projecting rocks that it was easy to climb out of it from any point. Not a particle of grass was visible, though possibly it was to be found further on.

Herbert’s conclusion was that the ravine cut through the hills, and had been used by Rickard and his party to reach the other side. Whether he was correct or not remained to be learned.

It struck him, however, as imprudent to take his pony further. The sound of his hoofs were quite certain to betray him to anyone on the watch, while the youth himself could steal forward without noise. The light of the burning match had revealed a gnarled root projecting from the side of the ravine. He carefully tied the bridle to this, for the place was so unique in its way that he was resolved to take no chances of Jill going astray. He would lose nothing by the detention, because, as has been shown, food was unobtainable and his master did not expect to be long absent.

Pausing a minute to make sure his pony was securely fastened, Herbert pushed into the ravine, on the alert for the first sign of the criminals and their prisoner. It was an impressive situation, and, mindful of his slight mishap, he moved with great care, occasionally burning a match when afraid of a misstep.

Ten minutes after leaving his horse, he turned an abrupt bend in the ravine and was startled by observing the light of a camp fire. It was only a little way ahead, and directly in front, so that, had he continued his walk without variation, he must have stepped into the blaze itself.

The gorge, which was comparatively narrow up to this point, expanded into a width of fully a hundred yards, in the middle of which a large fire had been kindled, that lit up the surrounding gloom, and threw a faint illumination almost to the feet of Herbert, who stood silently studying it.

That the site was well chosen was proven by the gleam of another pool of water, much larger than the former, while a patch of green grass extended from the fire beyond until lost in the darkness.

The first glance at the camp was with the conviction that he had overtaken the party he was after, but the second look raised strong doubts in his mind, for he failed to observe that which until that moment he was confident of seeing.

The party that he had followed so far across the prairie, consisted of four horsemen, one of whom was Nick Ribsam, but only two were now in sight, and neither was the lad. Nor were the pack horses visible.

The reader must not forget that Herbert was asleep during Bell Rickard’s forced visit to camp the night before and a long distance had separated the two until now. It was impossible, therefore, for him to know whether either of the parties before him was that worthy or not.

The light of the fire was sufficiently strong to bring out in relief the two horses, grazing on the luxuriant patch of grass, but, as I have said, no other animals were in sight.

One man was sitting on a stone near the fire, smoking a pipe, while the other stood in front of him, whittling a stick in the indifferent fashion that a person shows when his thoughts are otherwise occupied. He faced the one sitting on the bowlder, and the murmur of their voices was heard, as they talked, though no words were intelligible.

They were dressed in cowboy fashion, with their broad-brimmed hats, long hair, hickory shirts, and slouchy trousers tucked in their boot tops, not forgetting the belt around the waist for cartridges and pistols.

Herbert judged they were white men, though it was easy to be mistaken, since they might have been of mixed blood without its being betrayed in the firelight. He fancied one was the notorious horse thief, Belden Rickard, and the other the equally well-known half-breed, Jim-John; but this had to remain conjecture until someone confirmed or disproved it.

The bitter disappointment was his failure to see Nick, who he was confident of overtaking at the first camp reached. The only theory by which he could explain matters was that the party had divided, and one of the men had pushed on with Nick as his companion. If this were so, that one must have been Rickard. Possibly he feared pursuit, and was using the darkness to get further on with the pack horses, which could not travel as fast as the others. This might be readily done, a rendezvous having been agreed upon beforehand.

Herbert remained, viewing the fire, for a time, thinking it possible that Nick and the other man might put in an appearance, but as the minutes passed, he was confirmed in the belief named.

He determined to continue the hunt until he learned the truth. The expansion of the ravine where the fire had been kindled was so great that he could readily pass it without detection, but it would hardly do to venture upon so uncertain a journey on foot, when there was urgent need of a horse.

His plan, therefore, was to return for his pony and try to flank the camp, by leading him past. If he were discovered and challenged, he would boldly advance and make his business known, demanding that he be told where he could find his missing friend.

He took a parting look at the couple in whom he was so interested. They held the same positions as before, one sitting on the stone smoking, and the other standing in front, slowly whittling, while they discussed some matter in which neither seemed to feel a very deep interest.

Nothing was to be gained by waiting, and Herbert started back to get his horse. He had fixed the points so well in mind, that, when he supposed he was near the pool and ignited a match, he saw he was on the edge of it. He leaped lightly across, and, with the tiny flame still in his hand, walked to where his pony was tied a short time before.

Jill was gone! Since he could not have freed himself, someone had removed him.

While Herbert stood silent and dismayed, he caught the sound of a footfall, accompanied by a chuckle of triumph.

CHAPTER XX.

REINFORCEMENTS

HERBERT WATROUS was dumbfounded. He had stolen up the ravine and spent some time in studying the campfire and the two strangers, and now, on his return to where his pony had been tied, the animal was gone. While he was acting the spy, the same trick had been successfully played on him.

But he roused quickly, and running a few steps in the direction of the retreating horse and his captor, called:

“Stop, or I’ll shoot! You can’t steal my animal!”

It was an idle threat, for, in the gloom, he only knew the direction taken by the man and beast, and his shot, therefore, must have been at random.

“Shoot if you want to,” was the defiant reply; “but the flash of your gun will give us the show to drop you!”

Surely he had heard that voice before.

“Strubell, is that you?” he called, still hurrying forward, but with his weapon lowered.

Two persons now laughed, and the well-known tones of the Texan called back:

“You’ll have to practise a while, young man, before you learn how to trail Indians and horse thieves.”

Delighted beyond measure, Herbert quickly joined the friends, whom he had hardly expected to meet again.

“I was afraid you were killed,” said he, “and had no idea you were near me. Where did you come from?”

“We have been following you most of the day,” said Strubell, “but your horse went so fast we couldn’t overtake you, and, when you slowed him down, we concluded to let you go ahead, while we learned what you were driving at.”

“When you are at this business,” added Lattin, “you want to keep an eye to the rear as well as to the front.”

The Texans had their own ponies with them, and, so far as could be judged in the gloom, were suffering no ill effect from their sharp brush with their enemies the night before.

“Why did you take my horse?” asked Herbert.

“We wanted to give you a little scare, but you came back sooner than we expected. I followed after you, and, while you were viewing the camp fire, I did the same. I walked in front of you on the return, but your Jill was tied so fast that it took me longer than I expected to unfasten him.”

“Did you see Belden at the camp up the ravine?”