The Saddle Boys at Circle Ranch; Or, In at the Grand Round-Up

by Captain James Carson

  CHAPTER XI

  JUST BEFORE THE MOON SET

  Bob knew that his chum had been wriggling past him for some little time,and he guessed that Frank wanted to communicate with his father. Now theKentucky lad could hear them whispering in the lowest possible tones.

  He wondered that the old Moqui, squatted so close by, did not catchsounds that might arouse his suspicions; but on looking again Bob sawthat he still sat there on the rock, his Navajo blanket drawn about hishead, the picture of woe, as though the whole world had turned againsthim.

  It might be the ears of Havasupai were getting old, and he did not hearas keenly as could a young warrior. Or possibly he was so wrapped up inhis bitter reflections that he gave small heed to anything that waspassing. Then again it would be easy to mistake the whispering of Frankand his father for the twittering of the birds disturbed on theirroosts.

  Just why Frank wanted to confer with his father Bob of course was unableto understand.

  He found himself wondering whether the unexpected presence of this oldfriend might not have something to do with his move. Frank was quick tosee an advantage, and use it, when he believed it would serve hispurpose.

  And as Bob still lay there in his rather uncomfortable attitude, waitingfor something to happen whereby the conditions might be changed, heheard a low, cautious voice, which he recognized as that of his chum,softly calling:

  “Havasupai!”

  The gay blanket moved, and the head of the old Moqui came into view.

  “Who calls the Lonely One?” he asked, in steady tones, as though notquite sure whether he were dreaming, or hearing the voice of Manitou.

  “Come this way, where you see the branch shaking. It is a friend. Frank,the boy you met in the Grand Canyon. I want to talk with you.”

  Soft as the words were spoken, they reached the ear of the Indian. Heimmediately gained his feet. There was no such thing as fear aboutHavasupai, for without the slightest hesitation he started directlytoward the spot where the quivering branch guided his steps.

  Then a figure rose up to meet him as he entered the dense shadows. Herecognized Frank, and put out his dusky and withered palm with theIndian salutation.

  “Speak in a whisper, chief,” Frank said, as he took the hand of theMoqui; “for we don’t want the rustlers to know we are here. They havestolen my father’s cattle, and we have come to get them back, even if wehave to fight for them.”

  The old Indian grunted. Evidently he could easily comprehend thesituation; for he must know what occupation the man followed who hadcarried his daughter away from the lodges of her people, and now refusedto let him see her face for the very last time.

  He had already seen that there were many others in hiding close by, menwho were dressed as cattle drivers, and who carried arms which theyevidently knew how to use.

  “Perhaps you can help us, Chief,” Frank went on; and from this Bob knewthat it was about this matter his chum and the colonel had beenwhispering.

  “Ugh! Frank much friend Havasupai, long go. Not forget. How can help?”was what the old Moqui said.

  “We heard what the rustler said to you,” Frank went on eagerly, thoughcarefully. “He scorns you because your people have sent you out to dielike a dog or a coyote. Help us to trap Mendoza and his men. We wouldshut them up in the cabins while we run off our stock. And as you areallowed in the camp, you might be of great help to us. Will you do it,Havasupai? If we win out, my father says he will look after you, and seeto it that you find Antelope again.”

  The old Moqui did not hesitate. Anyone who would promise that was hisfriend. Besides, he doubtless secretly hated and despised Mendoza, andwould be glad to see him tricked.

  “Tell me what to do, Frank; Havasupai knows your tongue is straight. Hewill trust you,” he answered.

  “Here is my father,” the boy went on; “who owns the Circle Ranch stockfarm. Come a little further into the bushes, where you can speak withhim. We must be careful not to be heard by any of those in the camp.”

  Upon that invitation the Indian folded his blanket calmly about him, andstalked in among the bushes. He did not know what sort of receptionmight await him; but he was a seasoned warrior, and could not flinchfrom danger. From the time he could pull a bow-string he had beenaccustomed to looking peril in the face, and smiling at its terrors. Inhis old age, then, it could not be expected that his nature wouldchange.

  For a long time he remained there, holding a conversation with ColonelHaywood and Scotty. Perhaps the leaders of the cowboys picked up more orless valuable information through this channel, for the Indian waswilling to turn upon the man who had treated him so scurvily.

  Bob had settled down to watching again when he saw a figure leave theshelter of the thicket, and head straight for the camp. Of course heknew that this was the old Moqui. No danger of Havasupai betraying theirpresence. That promise of the stockman in connection with finding hisdaughter for him would serve to hold him loyal, even if gratitude towardthe two boys for what they had done before was lacking in his breast.

  “What time do you think it can be, Frank?” asked Bob, when his chum onceagain cuddled down alongside him.

  The prairie boy, through instinct, cast his eyes upwards. He was able totell what Bob wanted to know by the position of the moon. Had that beenlacking, then the low-lying star that trembled above the hill-top to thewest would have given him the information he wanted. Nature holds athousand secrets that become as an open book to those who have learnedhow to read her signs.

  “About eleven by the watch,” Frank replied, readily, after that oneglance up at the starry heavens.

  “And do we have to keep this thing up till nearly dawn?” asked theother.

  “Oh! I reckon it isn’t quite so bad as that,” replied Frank. “Dad sayswe will draw back some and get a little sleep. Around about an hourbefore daybreak we get back here, and then we can all listen for thesignal of the Moqui.”

  “What will that tell us, Frank?”

  “That the trap is ready to be sprung. In other words, Bob, that therustlers are snug in the bunk-house there. When we learn that, Scottyand his boys will creep up, close the door, and fasten it, ditto thewindows; and then we’ll be ready to get the stock moving with the peepof day.”

  “Say, won’t they be a hot bunch, though, when they find out what’shappened to ’em?” Bob remarked.

  “That goes without saying,” his chum answered. “Perhaps they may try tobreak out. In that case there’s going to be a rough-house time. ButMendoza is more cunning than bold, dad says; and he believes that whenthe rustler knows how he’s in a fix, he’ll keep quiet, and let us runoff the stock, rather than risk his neck trying to defend it.”

  “You said we might get a little sleep, didn’t you, Frank?”

  “Yes, and by the way you keep on yawning, I can see you need it, allright. And as I hear some of the boys making a move, it looks like theymeant to follow out the idea, and get further away from the camp.”

  “But tell me why they want to go back, when this is as good cover as wecan find anywhere?” Bob asked.

  “One man will stay here to keep tabs on what is happening in camp,”Frank answered, as if he had it all figured out in his own mind, and didnot hesitate about posting his companion. “But it’s safer for the othersto sleep far enough away, so if there happens to be a big snorer among’em, he won’t tell the rustlers that we’ve come to town to pay them avisit.”

  “Oh! I see now; and I’m glad I’m not one of that kind, Frank.”

  The two chums moved back with the rest. A short time later they weregathered in a retired spot, where the stockman took the pains to explainthe conditions, so that everyone might be fully posted.

  “Now get what sleep you can, boys,” he finished. “A few hours won’t belong; and when the right time comes, we’ll move out on the firing lineonce more. Try and keep from making any more noise that you can help. Notelling what might happen, you know. And I have heard men snore loudenough to almost make
the house shake.”

  They dropped just where they happened to be at the time; and each oneafter his own way sought the sleep needed to put them in shape for work.

  The last Bob knew he was looking up through the branches of a tree atthe bright moon, glimpses of which crept in through the interlacedleaves. Then he lost himself entirely, confident that those who keptwatch would see to it that no evil befell the sleepers.

  Of course it was Frank who gently shook Bob, and thus awoke him. Left tohimself it was doubtful when the Kentucky boy would have opened his eyesagain, until the sun, rising over the ridge in the east, told of anotherday.

  Bob sat up, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.

  “Keep still, Bob! Remember where you are!” said Frank, quickly; for hejudged that as yet the other did not realize the nature of thesituation; and there was always a possibility that he might call outbefore he understood.

  “Whew! I had forgotten, for a fact,” breathed Bob. “Is it time, do youthink?”

  “Some of them are moving, and it woke me up,” came the reply. “Yes,there’s Scotty going around now, and shaking every sleeper. We’re goingto move up, Bob. See, the moon is low down over the western ridge, andit must be about four o’clock.”

  “And I’ve been asleep over four hours, then; why, it didn’t feel more’na few winks,” remarked Bob, astonished at the truth; “but I feel better,Frank, and ready to do my part in the game. So let’s get a move on, asthe others are doing.”