CHAPTER X
A SURPRISE
When half an hour had passed, both boys began to grow a little anxious.They knew that, undoubtedly, those in charge of the expedition must havebeen holding a council of war, and deciding on the course to be carriedout.
“Wait here for me, Bob,” Frank whispered.
“Where are you going?” asked the other, suspiciously; for he wanted tobe in any move, as well as did his chum.
“Just to see dad, and find out what’s doing. I’ll sure be back againright away,” Frank told him.
“All right. You’ll find me here, lying like a log,” grunted Bob. “Factis, if this keeps on, I’ll just turn into one, I’m getting that stiff inthe legs.”
Frank crept away softly, and the Kentucky boy continued to stretch outin the dense shadows, listening to the sounds that came from the campnot very far away. A soft murmuring sound told Bob that he was near somespring, possibly that which supplied the drinking water for the camp;and in running down the side of the valley it evidently also satisfiedthe thirst of the cattle in the corral near by.
In not more than ten minutes, though perhaps it seemed much longer thanthat to Bob, his chum crawled alongside again.
“How?” queried Bob, Indian fashion.
“Oh! they’ve got it all arranged,” Frank answered, between gasps; for hewas breathing hard, after his recent exertions.
“You mean about capturing the herd, Frank?”
“I mean about making prisoners of the rustlers,” replied the other;“because, you understand, we couldn’t run the cattle out of this placewithout first clipping the claws of Mendoza and his crowd.”
“I suppose that’s so,” replied Bob; “because such a big bunch oflong-horns must make considerable racket when on the jump.”
“Sure; but then that isn’t the only thing,” Frank remarked.
“What else would hinder us running ’em off?” his chum demanded.
“’Sh! not so loud, Bob. Drop down to the whisper again. Why, stop andthink, how do you suppose cattle could run along that path where younearly took a header, and in the dark too?”
“Shucks! I should say so, Frank. Funny now I didn’t think of that. Why,to be sure, the chances are, half of ’em would drop over. It’s badenough in daylight, let alone with that tricky moon, or the darkness.Well, go on; what’s to be done?”
“I’ll tell you,” Frank continued. “The scheme is this—to wait ’tilllater in the night; then perhaps we’ll find a chance to shut the crowdup in one of the cabins, that biggest one, it might be. While some keptthe rustlers there, the rest of us, at dawn, could start the herd going.Once out of this valley they couldn’t hold us from driving the cattlehome.”
“Sounds fine, Frank, and I reckon I can see your dad’s hand back of thescheme.”
“They hatched it up between ’em, anyhow; and it struck me as thegreatest thing going. Scotty says he thinks there aren’t more than nineof the rustlers, without counting the fellow we’ve got already. Butthey’re gun fighters, every one, and would give us a hard battle if itcame to that sort of thing.”
“That means we’ve got to hang around here all night, doesn’t it, Frank?”
“About that,” replied the other.
“Gee! how can we stand it for hours and hours?” Bob grunted.
“You don’t have to. Go to sleep whenever you feel like it. I’ll promiseto wake you up before the circus starts,” Frank assured him.
“As if I could!” said Bob, reproachfully.
“The others are coming in this direction,” Frank remarked, still keepinghis voice down to the lowest possible pitch.
“What for?” asked his chum.
“Scotty says,” Frank went on, “the spring is here that supplies the campwith water; and by hanging out close by something may be heard. I canjust catch the little sound now that tells me they’re coming; so don’tbe worried, and think it’s one of the rustlers creeping up on us.”
“I’m glad you told me then, Frank, because it might have bothered mesome. Come to think of it, I reckon the spring must be in that littlebunch of trees over yonder. It seems to be open from there right intocamp.”
“Right again, Bob. You see it pays a fellow to keep his wits about him,and use his eyes in the bargain. But here’s Scotty right at my elbow;and that must be dad coming up on the other side of you. Enough said,Bob.”
They lapsed into silence. Bob knew that several unseen forms had rangedclose by, and he could easily understand that these were the balance ofthe Circle Ranch cow puncher outfit, carrying out the directions givenby their employer.
Bob had been idly watching the camp, which was not far away, when hesuddenly became aware of the fact that a single figure had issued fromamong the tents and cabins, and was approaching.
He nudged his chum, as though to call his attention to the fact.
“I see him,” whispered Frank; “and unless I miss my guess, that isMendoza himself. I’ve heard him described often enough to know.”
“But what’s he coming this way for?” asked Bob, a little nervous athearing such information, and with his eyes still glued to theapproaching figure of the Mexican.
“Give it up,” Frank replied; “still, the spring is over yonder, andperhaps he wants a nice cool drink, after smoking so much. We’ll watchand see.”
“Oh! wouldn’t it be great if some of the boys and Scotty could capturehim while he’s bending down to drink?” said Bob.
“Great stunt,” assented Frank; “but hardly possible. Too close to thecamp; and the first cry would upset everything. Let’s wait and see whathappens.”
“Look again, Frank!”
“Yes, I see another man has started out after him; and as sure as youlive, Bob, we ought to know that figure.”
“It looks like an Indian to me,” whispered the Kentucky lad.
“It is an Indian, and one belonging to the Moqui tribe up near the GrandCanyon, too. Look again, Bob. What do you say now?”
“I declare, that’s queer!” said the other.
“Then you think you know him, do you, Bob?”
“But what could old Havasupai be doing down here among the rustlers,when we left him headed back for his village?” Bob ventured.
“Stop and think again, Bob. You remember when we first made hisacquaintance the old fellow was about to steal one of our horses. Whenwe caught him he claimed that he was fleeing from his people because hehad done something that made him an outcast. Perhaps when he went backthey kicked him out again; and in the end he’s just fallen in with thesewild rustlers.”
“But it’s old Havasupai as sure as anything, Frank!”
“That goes; but drop out now, Bob, you’re getting too close for us towhisper any more. Just keep your ears open, and perhaps we’ll hearsomething worth while that may explain things. Silence now, Bob.”
The leading figure had reached a point close to the clump of small treesfrom which the sound of running water proceeded. Bob had seen theMexican look back, several times, as though he knew the other wasfollowing him; but he manifested no sign of fear.
Entering among the trees he was gone for a couple of minutes, duringwhich time he undoubtedly quenched his thirst. Meanwhile the Indian drewnear. He did not attempt to enter the copse, but waited for the Mexicanto come into view again. It might have been dangerous for anyone tofollow Pedro Mendoza into the shadows, for he was suspicious of all menand their intentions.
When Mendoza, if the Mexican were really that person, came forth oncemore, he found the old Indian waiting for him.
“Well, what do you want with me, Havasupai?” he asked, in an irritatedtone, as though the interview did not promise to give him any too muchpleasure.
Bob was surprised to hear him speak such good English, for most of theMexicans whom he had met thus far had a sort of patois of theirown, in which Spanish words and phrases were mixed with American.
But then he had felt the same way when he heard the Moqui Indian talk,until he r
emembered that for years Havasupai had come in contact withtourists, and in one way or another picked up considerable information,as well as the speech of the whites.
“Many moons ago the White Wolf came and took the daughter of Havasupaiaway from the lodges of her people,” the Moqui began; “but Antelope wentwillingly, because she would be the squaw of the white man. NowHavasupai is sent away to live or die like a dog, because he has brokenthe laws of the Moquis, and he would see again the face of his childbefore he passes to the land of the Manitou.”
“So, that’s the reason you hunted me up, was it, old man?” said theMexican, with a short, ugly laugh. “When you told me what had happenedto make you an exile I thought at first you only wanted shelter andfood. Your daughter is far from here, down in my country. And as I don’tcare to have you meddling around, I refuse to tell you where she can befound. Go back to your people; or jump into the sacred river, for all ofme; but see Antelope again you never will! Get out of my way!”
Bob thought at first the old chief was about to throw himself on theinsulting Mexican. Whatever was in the mind of the Moqui exile, heseemed to hold himself in check. The Mexican walked on back to the camp,never dreaming what lay in those shadows close by; while the Indian,wandering still closer to where the Circle Ranch cowboys lay, sat downon a rock as though to meditate upon his gloomy outlook.
The Saddle Boys at Circle Ranch; Or, In at the Grand Round-Up Page 10
