CHAPTER XXII.
CLARK JENNINGS GETS A SURPRISE.
"Lucky thing for me my pony went lame and I had to drop out," mutteredClark Jennings triumphantly. "I've got a few things I want to say toyou, Rob Blake."
"You'd better say them quick, then," rejoined Rob. "I'm not overfond ofyour conversation."
"Don't try to be fresh, young fellow!" warned Clark, raising his riflemenacingly. "I've got a corrective for back-talk in here."
"But you daren't use it."
"Don't be too sure."
"Well, what do you want to do with me?"
"All you have to do now is to obey, and obey pronto--see? Now march."
"Which way?"
"Toward the mountains."
"Very well." Rob wheeled obediently, and began to march off, butalready he had conceived a daring plan, and unexpectedly an opportunitysuddenly presented itself to carry it out. As Clark Jennings swung hispony, the animal spied, lying on the bare ground, a gleaming whiteskull--the relic of some dead and gone steer. With a snort, he gave awild sidewise leap that almost unseated Clark, practiced rider though hewas.
Rob heard the snort and the jump and Clark's sharp exclamation. In aflash his mind was made up. He wheeled like a streak, and bending down,grabbed his rifle. In far less time than it takes to tell it, the muzzleof the weapon was covering Clark Jennings's breast.
"Drop that rifle, Clark!"
The tables were turned with a vengeance now. But Clark Jennings, to dohim justice, was no coward. Disregarding Rob's command, he insteadraised his own rifle and aimed point blank at the lad. A stingingsensation cut through Rob's right shoulder and his muscles involuntarilycontracted. His rifle was an automatic, and the "safety" slide was open.As Clark's bullet penetrated his shoulder, Rob's finger twitched on thelight trigger.
Bang!
The bullet ploughed into the flank of Clark's pony. The animal gave afrightened, pained squeal and a terrific buck. Utterly unprepared asClark was for such a contingency, he was shot through the air over thepony's head, and landed with a crash on the hard ground. His rifle flewout of his hand in the opposite direction, while his pony, which wasonly slightly wounded, galloped, riderless, off.
"Well, I hope you're satisfied now," growled Clark, raising himself onone elbow and gazing vindictively at Rob, who this time took no chancesand kept his enemy covered. Clark, for all he knew, might have arevolver concealed about him.
"I'm not the one to be satisfied," rejoined Rob. "That is for Mr.Harkness to be. I should advise you to tell him the truth."
At that instant the sound of trampling hoofs was heard off to the south.It was the belated band of cow-punchers, headed by Mr. Harkness,sweeping at top speed in the direction of the retreating chase.
"Co-ee-ee!" yelled Rob.
"Who is it?" came back the hail.
"Rob Blake. I want to see you."
"Don't stop us now, Rob," came back Mr. Harkness's voice, "unless it issomething serious. We don't want to lose that rascal Jennings."
"If you'll come this way, you can't miss him," called Rob cheerfully.
"Confound you, Rob Blake! I'll get even with you some day for this!"growled Clark, utterly dumfounded by the unexpected arrival of Mr.Harkness. A few seconds later the perhaps equally astonished rancher andhis men loped up. A shrill cheer broke from the punchers as they saw theleader of the cattle raiders ingloriously squatted on the ground,nursing a sprained wrist and scowling like a cornered wildcat.
"Well done, Rob," cried Mr. Harkness, as he saw the crestfallen raider."Here, Blinky, just take a few turns round this fellow with a rope.Joyce," to another of the punchers, "you stay here and guard him. We'lltake no chance with so slippery a customer."
The rancher drew out an electric flash torch and illumined the scene.Suddenly his eyes fell on a dark, wet patch on Rob's shoulder.
"Why, boy, you are wounded!" he cried.
"Oh, just a touch. The bullet tore the flesh. It isn't anything,"protested Rob.
"What, he fired at you?"
"Yes," Clark answered brutally, "and I'm sorry I didn't kill him!"
An examination of Rob's injury showed that it was only a slight fleshwound, and after it had been wrapped up with a strip of his shirt tokeep dirt out till proper remedies could be applied, he mounted Joyce'spony, and the cavalcade swept on once more, leaving the appointedcow-puncher behind to guard Clark Jennings.
"Hullo," exclaimed Mr. Harkness suddenly, as they rode on. "I believesomething's happening up ahead."
Indeed, it seemed so. Shouts and yells and imprecations filled the air.
Suddenly a volley of shots sounded, and a sharp cry rang out.
"Good gracious! They're shooting to kill!" cried Rob, dashing forward.
Mr. Harkness and the cow-punchers were close on his heels.
It was a strange scene into the midst of which they rode at top speed.Harry Harkness, Bill Simmons, Jeb Cotton and Frank Price each had theirponies "backed" on their lariats, and at the end of each taut, stretchedrope lay a dark object, rolling about and muttering angry imprecations.
Round the group rode the Boy Scouts, yelling at the top of their voicesand cheering vociferously. And no wonder. At the end of the differentlariats lay four cattle raiders, their clumsy disguises dragged halfoff, giving a grotesque appearance to them.
The captives were examined one by one, and found to be Hank Handcraft,Bill Bender, Jess Randell and old man Jennings. None of them would saya word except profanity, and so they were each tied and left, while thecow-punchers and victorious Boy Scouts set out to round up the crazedmavericks. The steers had now scattered in every direction, and gettingthem into a bunch was no slight job. Of the rest of the cattle raidersno trace could be found. It was learned afterward that they had gallopedoff when the Boy Scouts roped their leaders, and they made good theirescape later across the border. The Boy Scouts, however, had not escapedlightly. Several of them had minor wounds, none serious, where thebullets of the cowardly raiders had struck them. It took a good hour ormore to round up the cattle and quiet them, and then a sort of generalinspection was made of the ranch forces. This resulted in a startlingdiscovery. No Tubby Hopkins was to be found.
"Who saw him last?" asked Rob.
"I did," said Jeb Cotton. "He was riding off after a tall fake Indian."
"Any one see him since?"
No, nobody had.
At this moment, while things looked grave, there came a sudden yell, offin the distance. A few minutes later Tubby's rotund form appeared. Tothe boys' amazement, the fat boy led behind him a mounted figure, boundup like a valuable parcel, with fold on fold of rawhide.
"Why, Tubby, wherever have you been?" demanded Rob.
"On special duty," announced the fat boy importantly. "I have made aprisoner of war."
"What! Why, how?" gasped Merritt.
"Who is it?" shouted Merritt, edging round to get a look at the muffledprisoner.
Mr. Harkness turned his searchlight in the captive's face. In vain thefellow tried to bury his features in the folds of his blanket. Hisattempts at concealment were useless. A shout of amazement went up asRob and Merritt recognized the face of Tubby's captive.
It was Jack Curtiss!
Arriving unexpectedly at the Jennings ranch that evening, he had beenpersuaded to take part in the raid. Knowing little about riding, theformer bully of Hampton Academy had boastfully declared he wouldoutride any of the raiders. He had been accommodated with a pony and hadtaken part in the onslaught which had had such an unexpected conclusion.Tubby, carried away by excitement, had chased the huddled figure, littleknowing whom the blanket shrouded. Suddenly Jack Curtiss's ponystumbled, throwing the bully headlong. Tubby had immediately pressed hisrifle to the fallen figure's head with the curt command:
"Shut up!"
As soon as his astonished eyes had recognized Jack Curtiss, he saw afine chance to redeem himself as a hero in the eyes of the Boy Scouts.Tricing Jack up with his lariat, he had led him back in triumph
to therest.
"Hooray, Tubby, I didn't think you had it in you!" cried Merritt,clapping the fat boy on the back.
"Hum! I don't show all my good qualities at once," remarked Tubby,grandiloquently strutting about.
"I wonder what you'd have done if it had been a real Indian?" laughedHarry Harkness.
"Just the same--just the same," rejoined Tubby.
A roar of laughter greeted the stout youth's complacent remark, but itwas suddenly checked as a horseman came dashing up to the party.
"Hullo, what's up now?" exclaimed Mr. Harkness amazedly, as the riderdrew rein almost at his feet.
"It's an Indian!" exclaimed Merritt.
"Another fake," declared Tubby sagely.
But this time it was a real Indian, and he drew Mr. Harkness aside andspoke some rapid words. The rancher's face showed traces of greatexcitement, although his voice was calm enough as he turned to theinterested group, after some moments of conversation with the red man.
"Ray and Sumner, you join Joyce back there and take these prisoners tothe ranch, and see that they are kept under strong guard," he ordered.
"What! Aren't we going back?" inquired Rob.
"No, my boy. I have grave news. The Moquis have rebelled against BlackCloud's authority, and Mr. Mayberry is a prisoner in their camp."
"Is he in danger?"
"He is in the gravest peril. Only prompt action can save his life. Suchis the message Black Cloud gave this Indian to bring to me."
A few moments later Rob, mounted on a pony previously ridden by old manJennings, a tough, wiry little cayuse, was riding beside Mr. Harkness,listening eagerly to the details of his kind-hearted friend'spredicament. Behind them spurred the Boy Scouts and the few cow-punchersremaining after a guard had been detailed. Minutes counted, as they wellknew, and no rider in the party spared his pony as they pressed rapidlyforward, under the Indian's guidance, for the valley of the snakedance.