CHAPTER XXI.
THE MAVERICK RAID.
"Hark!"
Through the dark, low-lying mass that marked the feeding maverick herd,a sort of convulsive shudder suddenly ran. The movement, somewhat likethe undulation of a long wave, had not been lost on the keen eyes of theBoy Scouts lying crouched under the night sky behind a chaparral-coveredrise.
It was Rob who voiced the warning. Since we last heard of him at RedFlat, the boy had arrived at the ranch, and been welcomed with--well,let each one of my readers imagine for himself how he would greet hischum if he had been separated from him under such trying circumstances,and if, for a time, he had even feared that his friend might be dead.Suffice it to say that it was fully half an hour before Rob could bereleased from his chums and tell his story to Mr. Harkness, includingconfirmation of the Indian's story, that Clark Jennings and his evilcompanions meant to steal the mavericks while the rancher's attentionwas diverted by the hunt for the missing boy.
A hasty supper had been dispatched soon after, and then the Boy Scouts,Mr. Harkness and the cow-punchers had set out for the Far Pasture. Theyreached there at nightfall, and found everything apparently in orderlyshape. Owing to the uncertainty from which quarter the cattle thieveswere likely to make their attack, Mr. Harkness had decided to distributehis little force in two wings, so to speak. To the south of the feedingbunch of mavericks he had deployed his cow-punchers under his ownleadership. The northern flank of the feeding band was placed under theguardianship of the Boy Scouts.
"Now, boys," had been Mr. Harkness's parting words, as he rode off, "thesignal that they have arrived will be two shots in quick succession.Remember, don't fire at the raiders unless you have to. Concentrateyour efforts on saving the cattle. If Jennings and his outfit oncesucceed in getting them headed up toward the mountains, they are as goodas lost. Jennings has some sort of secret pasture where he can keep themtill he finds time to clap his brand on and dispose of them in the openmarket."
"But in the meantime you can have him arrested," objected Rob.
"That is true, but a bunch like that always has secret agents. If allthe men whom I know to be implicated in the Jennings' escapades were injail, there would still be men on the outside of the prison walls tocarry on their nefarious work."
For an hour or more no sound had come to disturb the great silence whichbrooded above the grazing grounds. The herd moved easily and steadilyover their feeding places, displaying no symptoms of alarm as theycropped the half-dry grass.
Rob had enjoined perfect silence among the Boy Scouts of the RangerPatrol, and the boys, composed, lay like veterans to their arms behindtheir shelter.
Suddenly a maverick that had been lying down on the outskirts of theherd lumbered heavily to its feet, and raising its head, sniffed the airfor a moment. Then it emitted a shrill bellow. A thrill ran through theboys as the young steer gave its alarm.
Simultaneously, almost, with the maverick's cry had come markedrestlessness among its mates. They stopped feeding and moved uneasily toand fro. They huddled together as cattle do before one of the electricstorms of the Southwest breaks over them.
"They hear something coming," whispered Merritt, who lay next to Rob.
"Must be scared, to stop eating," put in Tubby, from his positionalongside Harry Harkness, on Rob's other side.
"Hush!" breathed the young leader. "Listen!"
"I don't hear anything," said Merritt.
"Yes, you do. Listen again. Off there to the north."
"You mean that sort of trampling sound?"
"Yes."
"I thought that was the cattle," put in Merritt.
"No. I hear what Rob means," whispered Harry. "It's riders, and they'recoming this way."
The slight sound that had first attracted Rob's keen ears now grew involume till it resolved itself into the rattle of ponies' hoofsapproaching at a smart gallop.
"Here they come!" exclaimed Rob, half unconsciously clasping his rifle.
"Well, they don't seem to be anxious to disguise their approach,"commented Harry.
"No, why should they? They figure that only three or four punchers atmost are guarding the herd. With the force they have with them theysuppose, I guess, that they can scare the punchers off."
"I reckon that's it," agreed Merritt.
Closer and closer drew the galloping, and Merritt began to shiftuneasily. The others, too, began to stir about, eager for the word toadvance and mount their ponies, which were concealed behind a highrampart of chaparral a few paces off. At last Rob gave the word.
"Crawl over to your ponies, boys. Don't show a head."
Silently as so many snakes, the Boy Scouts retreated, and managed togain their little mounts without making any suspicious sounds.
"Ready for the signal yet, Rob?" asked Merritt, noticing that the youngleader had slipped his revolver from its holster.
"Not yet. Give them a little more rope. We want to see what their plansare before giving the alarm."
"All right. But don't let them give us the slip."
"Not likely. Remember, I've got a few scores to even up with MasterClark Jennings and Company myself."
Suddenly out of the darkness before them came an ear-splitting "whoop."
"Yip-yip-y-ee-e-e-e!"
Bang! Bang!
Rob's pistol cracked out the signal that the attack had begun at thesame instant.
But quick as he was, the boy had delayed a little too long. In hisanxiety to make sure from which quarter the drive was to begin, he hadallowed the raiders to get between his line of scouts and the cattle,thus permitting them a free and open path to the mountains. In a flashRob realized this, as he swung on his pony's back.
Silence was of little moment now, and the Boy Scouts uttered a loudcheer as they swept forward behind their leader.
Bang! Bang!
It was the answer to Rob's signal, from Mr. Harkness's party. But itsounded faint and far off. The rancher, in his anxiety to allow ampleroom to head off the cattle, in case they started for the GraveyardCliffs, had stationed his men too far to the southward.
Already the drive had begun, and the mavericks were trotting off beforethe onrush of a dozen or more dark figures garbed like Indians.
"Whoop-whoop-whoop-ee-ee!" yelled the raiders, the better to keep up theillusion that they were Indians.
"I guess they don't know that they are not throwing any dust in oureyes," muttered Rob, as he dug his spurs in deep, and his pony answeredwith every pound of speed in its active little body. By his side wasHarry Harkness and all about them surged the other Boy Scouts.
"Spread out! Spread out!" commanded Rob, as the charge swept forward."Each Scout take a man and rope him if he can."
With the exception of the Eastern boys, every lad in the Ranger Patrolwas, as a matter of course, an efficient roper, and could handle alariat as well as they could their ponies. Rob's command to use therawhides, therefore, met with shouts and yells of approval.
The consternation created in the ranks of Clark Jennings's raiders bythe chorus of shouts and yells behind them may be imagined.
"I thought you told us there wouldn't be more than a few cow-punchershere," said Bill Bender angrily, as they pressed on behind the cattle,which were now loping fast toward the mountains.
"Well, I thought so. How was I to know they'd have an army out?"
"That's what they've got. Hark at that!"
A fresh yell from the Boy Scouts broke out behind the disguised raiders,and this time it sounded closer.
"Speed up those cattle," shouted Clark Jennings desperately; "we've gotto get to the mountains before they close on us."
A volley of pistol shots was the answer, but the raiders fired above thecattle's backs. A fresh burst of speed followed from the frightenedanimals, which were now fairly stampeding. The shouts and yells and theconstant cracking of pistols drove them into a frenzy of fear. On and onswept the mad advance.
"If once they get to the hills, we may as well give them u
p!" shoutedHarry, above the deafening hammer of the galloping Boy Scouts.
"Yes, we'd better pump some lead into them!" yelled Bill Simmons.
"On no account," shouted back Rob. "Use your ropes, but no shooting."
Fast as the mavericks were urged on, they could not make the same speedover the rough ground that the ponies of their tormentors achieved. Thisfact naturally held back the line of disguised white raiders andpermitted the Boy Scouts to close up on them. Before long they were soclose that they could see the headdresses and blankets of the supposedIndians, waving above the dark line of racing steers.
In the excitement of the chase, the boys had quite overlooked the factthat they were in close pursuit of some of the most desperate men inArizona, and had carelessly come within pistol range.
Suddenly a bright flash spurted from one of the raiders' revolvers, anda bullet whizzed past Rob's ear.
"A miss is as good as a mile!" he yelled exultingly.
The boy, to tell the truth, did not feel any fear of being "pinked" by araider's bullet. Added to the darkness was the fact that the whole bodywas sweeping forward over rough ground at tremendous speed. A man, toaim true under such conditions, must have been a phenomenal marksman.
"Aim low! Fire at their ponies!" he heard Clark Jennings yell suddenly.
"Ah!" thought Rob. "Now you are talking. If a pony gets hit, it puts hisrider out of the race."
Hardly had the thought flashed through his mind before there cameanother spurt of fire from the raiders' line, and Rob felt his mountcollapse under him.
He leaped from the saddle just in time to avoid being crushed as thepony crashed down in a dying heap. The boy had been riding off to oneside of the Scouts when his pony was shot, and in the darkness not oneof them seemed to have noticed that Rob was dismounted, for yelling andcheering, the chase swept on.
"Well, I'm out of it," thought Rob dismally. "I hope they get them,though. I'd like----"
"Up with your hands, and drop that rifle!"
The command came out of the darkness behind him like a bolt out of theblue.
Rob recognized that whoever had voiced the command meant business, anddown fell his rifle with a crash, while his hands extended above hishead.
"Now I've got you where I want you," were the next words, coming in avindictive voice from his captor. The next instant the speaker roderound the motionless Rob, and brought his pony to a halt directly infront of the boy.
Despite the shrouding blanket and the waving feathers on the rider'shead, Rob recognized his captor, with a thrill, as Clark Jennings. Hewas absolutely in the power of the vindictive ranch boy.