Hopalong Cassidy's Rustler Round-Up; Or, Bar-20

by Rex Beach

  CHAPTER XXI. The Call

  At three o'clock the next morning a long line of men slowly filedinto the cottonwood grove, being silently swallowed up by the dark.Dismounting, they left their horses in the care of three of their numberand disappeared into the brush. Ten minutes later forty of the forcewere distributed along the edge of the grove fringing on the bank of theriver and twenty more minutes gave ample time for a detachment of twentyto cross the stream and find concealment in the edge of the woods whichran from the river to where the corral made an effective barrier on thesouth.

  Eight crept down on the western side of the camp and worked their wayclose to Mr. Trendley's cabin door, and the seven who followed thisdetachment continued and took up their positions at the rear of thecorral, where, it was hoped, some of the rustlers would endeavor toescape into the woods by working their way through the cattle in thecorral and then scaling the stockade wall. These seven were from theThree Triangle and the Double Arrow, and they were positive that anysuch attempt would not be a success from the view-point of the rustlers.

  Two of those who awaited the pleasure of Mr. Trendley crept forward, anda rope swished through the air and settled over the stump which lay mostconvenient on the other side of the cabin door. Then the slack movedtoward the woods, raised from the ground as it grew taut and, withthe stump for its axis, swung toward the door, where it rubbed gentlyagainst the rough logs. It was made of braided horsehair, was half aninch in diameter and was stretched eight inches above the ground.

  As it touched the door, Lanky Smith, Hopalong and Red stepped out of theshelter of the woods and took up their positions behind the cabin, Lankybehind the northeast corner where he would be permitted to swing hisright arm. In his gloved right hand he held the carefully arranged coilsof a fifty-foot lariat, and should the chief of the rustlers escapetripping he would have to avoid the cast of the best roper in thesouthwest.

  The two others took the northwest corner and one of them leaned slightlyforward and gently twitched the tripping-rope. The man at the other endfelt the signal and whispered to a companion, who quietly disappeared inthe direction of the river and shortly afterward the mournful cry of awhip-poor-will dirged out on the early morning air. It had hardly diedaway when the quiet was broken by one terrific crash of rifles, and thetwo camp guards asleep at the fire awoke in another world.

  Mr. Trendley, sleeping unusually well for the unjust, leaped from hisbed to the middle of the floor and alighted on his feet and wideawake. Fearing that a plot was being consummated to deprive him of hisleadership, he grasped the Winchester which leaned at the head of hisbed and, tearing open the door, crashed headlong to the earth. As hetouched the ground, two shadows sped out from the shelter of the cabinwall and pounced upon him. Men who can rope, throw and tie a wild steerin thirty seconds flat do not waste time in trussing operations, andbefore a minute had elapsed he was being carried into the woods,bound and helpless. Lanky sighed, threw the rope over one shoulder anddeparted after his friends.

  When Mr. Trendley came to his senses he found himself bound to a tree inthe grove near the horses. A man sat on a stump not far from him, threeothers were seated around a small fire some distance to the north, andfour others, one of whom carried a rope, made their way into the brush.He strained at his bonds, decided that the effort was useless andwatched the man on the stump, who struck a match and lit a pipe. Theprisoner watched the light flicker up and go out and there was left inhis mind a picture that he could never forget. The face which had beenso cruelly, so grotesquely revealed was that of Frenchy McAllister, andacross his knees lay a heavy caliber Winchester. A curse escaped fromthe lips of the outlaw; the man on the stump spat at a firefly andsmiled.

  From the south came the crack of rifles, incessant and sharp. Thereports rolled from one end of the clearing to the other and seemed tosweep in waves from the center of the line to the ends. Faintly in theinfrequent lulls in the firing came an occasional report from the rearof the corral, where some desperate rustler paid for his venture.

  Buck went along the line and spoke to the riflemen, and after some timehad passed and the light had become stronger, he collected the men intogroups of five and six. Taking one group and watching it closely, itcould be seen that there was a world of meaning in this maneuver. Oneman started firing at a particular window in an opposite hut and thenlaid aside his empty gun and waited. When the muzzle of his enemy's guncame into sight and lowered until it had nearly gained its sight level,the rifles of the remainder of the group crashed out in a volley andusually one of the bullets, at least, found its intended billet. Thisvolley firing became universal among the besiegers and the effect wasmarked.

  Two men sprinted from the edge of the woods near Mr. Trendley's cabinand gained the shelter of the storehouse, which soon broke out inflames. The burning brands fell over the main collection of huts, wherethere was much confusion and swearing. The early hour at which theattack had been delivered at first led the besieged to believe thatit was an Indian affair, but this impression was soon corrected by thevolley firing, which turned hope into despair. It was no great matterto fight Indians, that they had done many times and found more or lessenjoyment in it; but there was a vast difference between brave andpuncher, and the chances of their salvation became very small. Theysurmised that it was the work of the cow-men on whom they had preyedand that vengeful punchers lay hidden behind that death-fringe of greenwillow and hazel.

  Red, assisted by his inseparable companion, Hopalong, laboriouslyclimbed up among the branches of a black walnut and hooked one leg overa convenient limb. Then he lowered his rope and drew up the Winchesterwhich his accommodating friend fastened to it. Settling himself in acomfortable position and sheltering his body somewhat by the tree, heshaded his eyes by a hand and peered into the windows of the distantcabins.

  "How is she, Red?" Anxiously inquired the man on the ground.

  "Bully: want to come up?"

  "Nope. I'm goin' to catch yu when yu lets go," replied Hopalong with agrin.

  "Which same I ain't goin' to," responded the man in the tree.

  He swung his rifle out over a forked limb and let it settle in thecrotch. Then he slew his head around until he gained the bead he wished.Five minutes passed before he caught sight of his man and then he fired.Jerking out the empty shell he smiled and called out to his friend:"One."

  Hopalong grinned and went off to tell Buck to put all the men in trees.

  Night came on and still the firing continued. Then an explosion shookthe woods. The storehouse had blown up and a sky full of burning timberfell on the cabins and soon three were half consumed, their occupantsdropping as they gained the open air. One hundred paces makes finepot-shooting, as Deacon Rankin discovered when evacuation was the choicenecessary to avoid cremation. He never moved after he touched the groundand Red called out: "Two," not knowing that his companion had departed.

  The morning of the next day found a wearied and hopeless garrison, andshortly before noon a soiled white shirt was flung from a window in thenearest cabin. Buck ran along the line and ordered the firing to ceaseand caused to be raised an answering flag of truce. A full minutepassed and then the door slowly opened and a leg protruded, more slowlyfollowed by the rest of the man, and Cheyenne Charley strode out tothe bank of the river and sat down. His example was followed by severalothers and then an unexpected event occurred. Those in the cabins whopreferred to die fighting, angered at this desertion, opened fire ontheir former comrades, who barely escaped by rolling down the slightlyinclined bank into the river. Red fired again and laughed to himself.Then the fugitives swam down the river and landed under the guns of thelast squad. They were taken to the rear and, after being bound, wereplaced under a guard. There were seven in the party and they looked wornout.

  When the huts were burning the fiercest the uproar in the corral aroseto such a pitch as to drown all other sounds. There were left within itswalls a few hundred cattle whose brands had not yet been blotted out,and these, maddened to frenzy
by the shooting and the flames, tore fromone end of the enclosure to the other, crashing against the alternatewalls with a noise which could be heard far out on the plain. Scoreswere trampled to death on each charge and finally the uproar subsidedin sheer want of cattle left with energy enough to continue. When thecorral was investigated the next day there were found the bodies of fourrustlers, but recognition was impossible.

  Several of the defenders were housed in cabins having windows in therear walls, which the occupants considered fortunate. This opinionwas revised, however, after several had endeavored to escape by theseopenings. The first thing that occurred when a man put his head out wasthe hum of a bullet, and in two cases the experimenters lost all need ofescape.

  The volley firing had the desired effect, and at dusk there remainedonly one cabin from which came opposition. Such a fire was concentratedon it that before an hour had passed the door fell in and the firingceased. There was a rush from the side, and the Barred Horseshoe menwho swarmed through the cabins emerged without firing a shot. Theorganization that had stirred up the Pecos Valley ranches had ceased toexist.