CHAPTER XV.
WHAT BECAME OF THE SCOUT?
But even as the former Long Islander raised the weapon to his shoulder,it was dashed down by Clark Jennings.
"Look out, you idiot!" he bellowed. "Do you want to kill the ponies?"
Rob, the instant he had recovered his self-possession, which precededthe recovery of the surprised plotters by some seconds, had made a dashfor the ponies, which, as has been said, stood, saddled and bridled,near at hand.
"Yip-yip!" he screeched, as he leaped onto the back of the first one hereached.
Excited by the shouts and cries of the three amazed campers, andhalf-crazed by Rob's sudden leap onto its back, the animal plungedforward and vanished in a flash into the dark woods which veiled anabrupt turn in the trail.
"Now, shall we shoot, Clark?" urged Bill Bender.
"No, no; waste no time doing that. Hank, you stay here and look afterthings. Come, Bill--quick--the ponies!"
In a second Bill and Clark were mounted and dashing off down the trailin a cloud of dust, in hot pursuit of the lad.
"Do you think he heard what we were talking about?"
Clark Jennings propounded the question as they clattered down the trail.Not far in front they could hear the rapid hoof beats of Rob's mount.
"Don't know. The minute he came sky-hooting into the camp I'd a notionit was some one I've seen afore some place," rejoined Bill vaguely.
"Yes, yes; but do you think he overheard?"
"Dunno. We weren't expecting company, and therefore didn't lower ourvoices. Say, Clark, what if--what if he did hear?"
"Then Harkness will find out everything."
"Yes, if----"
"Well, if what?"
"If we don't bring him down. If we should kill him, we could easy blameit on the Indians. In fact, I guess the ranch folks would conclude theredskins did it, anyhow."
Clark's ruddy face grew pale at Bill's sinister suggestion.
"If he overheard, he knows enough to send us all to jail," promptedBill.
"That's right, too. Do you think you could----"
Clark hesitated, as if the thought his mind held was too dreadful forhim to voice.
"Bring him down, you mean?" inquired Bill cheerfully. "Don't know. We'rehitting up a hot pace for good shooting."
"Say, Bill, I think you are the most cold-blooded fellow I ever met."
"Oh, I'm cool, all right, in such a case as this," rejoined Bill."Hark!"
Both drew rein for a second and listened. The beat of hoofs in front ofthem suddenly slackened. So near was the sound that it seemed as if itcould not have been more than a few feet ahead.
"Right through that brush there!" whispered Clark, and hot as the daywas, he shivered as if stricken with a sudden fever.
Bill Bender coolly raised his rifle. He deliberately aimed it into theleafy screen. The next instant its deafening report rang out. It wasfollowed by a loud crash from beyond the bushes, as if some heavy bodyhad fallen.
Clark fairly turned his pony round. He was too much of a coward even todare to ask the question that forced itself to his lips. No such qualmsassailed Bill Bender, however. He pressed spurs to his pony, and in asecond flashed round the trees that hid what lay on the trail beyond. Asecond later a loud cry of astonishment broke from his lips. It wasmingled with curses.
"What's the matter?" hailed Clark tremblingly.
"Come here."
"Oh, Bill, I don't want to. I----"
"Come here, I say. There's nothing to be afraid of."
Thus urged, Clark, whose cheeks were still ashen under the bronze, urgedhis pony forward, and presently joined Bill. The latter had dismounted,and was standing over a dark, still object in the road.
It was the pony Rob had borrowed so hurriedly.
It lay stone dead, pierced in a vital spot by Bill Bender's bullet.
"But the b-b-boy, is he----" stuttered Clark.
"He's gone!" exclaimed Bill.
"Gone?" echoed Clark in an amazed tone.
"Yes, clean wiped out."
"But how?"
"Ask me an easy one."
"Hasn't he left a trail?"
"No, that's what makes it so queer. He must have had an aeroplane."
For half an hour or more both youths searched the dusty trail and beatin and out of the dense brush, but not a trace of the missing boyrewarded their close scrutiny of the surroundings. Had the earth openedat that spot and swallowed Rob up bodily, he could not have vanishedmore utterly. The only trace of the missing boy was his sombrero, lyingby the dead pony.
Absolutely dumfounded with amazement, the two worthies finally gave uptheir search, and taking the saddle and bridle off the dead pony, madetheir way back to their camp, carrying Rob's broad-brimmed hat.
* * * * *
At about the same hour that Clark and Bill were searching among thepinon and scrub growth for some solution of the mystery of Rob'sinexplicable disappearance, an equally perplexed party was assembled ona small rise some miles away. The latter group consisted of Mr.Harkness, his son, the Boy Scouts of the Ranger Patrol, Corporal MerrittCrawford and Tubby Hopkins, Blinky and two other cow-punchers.
The day before, following the rescued Tubby's return to the ranch withhis companions, the expedition to find the missing Rob had beenhurriedly formed. The cliff face had been reached in quicker time thanwould have seemed possible, and an examination by the cow-punchers andthe Boy Scouts soon showed which way Rob had been carried off.
The broken shrub at the entrance to the tunnel, with the end pointinginto the darkness, indicated clearly enough to Merritt that Rob had madea Boy Scout sign that his trail lay that way.
Leaving their ponies in charge of one of the cow-punchers who hadaccompanied them that far, the party had proceeded through the tunnel onfoot. They were led by Blinky, who was almost as expert a trailer as anIndian, and had at the present moment arrived near the site of theIndian camp from which Rob had escaped the night before. Had the boyonly known it, on his wild flight he had passed within a few miles ofthose who were searching for him in the darkness.
With the earliest light they had picked up the trail once more, and nowthey had reached its termination, the camp of the Moquis. But to rewardtheir activity and perseverance they found only black ashes andscattered traces of cooking and stabling. Of the camp itself, all tracehad vanished.
Blinky bent over the ashes and stirred them with his fingers.
"Been gone some hours," he announced, after an examination. "The ashesare plumb cold."
"How far do you think they will have proceeded by this time?" inquiredMr. Harkness.
"Maybe twenty miles or more," rejoined the cow-puncher. "It's hard totell. These redskins travel fast, boss, as you know."
"Yes, I do know," rejoined the rancher bitterly; "especially when theyhave a good reason to. But what do you suppose they carried off the poorboy for?"
"Maybe they figgered he was a spy from the Indian territory, and maybethey thought they could get a good price for him if they held him longenough."
"I guess you are right, Blinky," said the rancher sadly, sitting downupon an outcropping rock.
He flicked his riding boots meditatively for some seconds with hisrawhide quirt, which he still carried, and then spoke.
"Boys," he said, addressing the little party, "those Moquis have carriedoff Rob. There's no doubt of that. The question now is, shall we followthem up, or shall we go back and get the ponies, and thus lose valuabletime? I think it only fair to tell you that I am for going forward."
"I guess there's no need to take a vote, Mr. Harkness," smiled Merritt,gazing at the determined faces of the Boy Scouts of the Ranger Patrol.Every member of the body was there. Harry and the telephone had seen tothat as soon as they had made certain that Rob had been carried off.
"We've got enough to eat with us," put in Tubby, "so there's no reasonwhy we shouldn't go ahead."
As Tubby said, the party had brought rations w
ith them which, thoughnot very plentiful, were enough to last until they struck a further foodsupply.
"Then forward it is," said Mr. Harkness.
"Ye-ow!" yelled the cow-punchers.
The boys joined in their wild shouts, but their enthusiastic start wassuddenly thrown into silence by an unexpected incident. Hoof beatssounded on the trail, and as everybody turned expectantly in thedirection from whence the sound had proceeded, they were astonished tosee two ponies emerge, carrying three men.
The new arrivals were Clark Jennings and Bill Bender, and, seated behindthe latter, Hank Handcraft. The faces of all three took on a guilty,confused air as they perceived that, instead of riding, as they hadexpected, into a camp of Moquis, they had unexpectedly encountered thelast persons whom at that particular moment they wanted to meet.