‘Sure,’ said Wild Bob, pushing his hat to the back of his head. ‘We saw the horse, and the Kid here thought it was just the ride for him. The stable boss said it was for you, but as we’re such old friends, I didn’t think you’d mind if I took it instead. You don’t mind, do you, Ham?’
Horatio Ham’s face darkened and his cheeks quivered with anger. Hold on! I thought. Don’t get me involved – I didn’t want to take the horse. But I knew I was already involved; I was standing next to Wild Bob Ffrance and that was enough to condemn me.
‘Did you pay for the horse?’ asked Ham through gritted teeth. Wild Bob didn’t answer. ‘Did you pay for those goods you’re carrying now?’ Again Wild Bob said nothing while readjusting the heavy sack on his shoulder.
‘Get ready to run, Kid,’ he whispered from the side of his mouth. ‘Run straight for your horse and ride like the wind.’ I can’t ride a blooming horse, I wanted to remind him, but I knew it wasn’t the time or the place. Things were very serious indeed and I couldn’t see a way out.
‘So, you haven’t paid. I thought as much,’ said Ham with a smirk. ‘Now you are a horse thief twice over. It will be my pleasure to add the crime of shoplifting to your long list of misdemeanors. I’ll take you over to the jail myself, right now.’ As Horatio Ham started to take his gun from its holster, the group of men cocked their rifles and my knees started to knock. Wild Bob let the heavy sack fall from his shoulder and in one movement swung it up into the air. Everyone’s eyes followed it as it sailed high over Ham’s head.
As if by magic a gun appeared in Wild Bob’s hand and he fired. Bang! Bang! Bang! The bullets ripped into the sack, which exploded in a thick cloud of flour, filling the air around the gunmen’s heads, clogging their eyes and ears and noses, and they doubled over in fits of coughing and swearing and sneezes.
‘Time to go!’ said Bob, and we raced down the sidewalk towards our horses. With the gorilla skills I’d learned in the jungle, it was no problem to leapfrog over the rail and land on Freecloud’s back. For once she behaved herself, and with a kick I galloped down Main Street after Bob’s stallion, with my eyes half-closed and holding on to Freecloud for dear life.
By the time Ham and his men had cleared their eyes and lifted their rifles to their shoulders, we had rounded the corner and were racing out of town.
‘Keep going, Kid,’ yelled Bob. ‘It won’t be long before they’re after us. Yee-hah!’
Sure enough, it was only a matter of a minute or two before I could hear the thundering of hooves behind us.
Help, how did I get into this mess!
Freecloud was small and fast and strong, but the horses after us were bigger and faster and stronger, and it wasn’t long before red-hot bullets were whizzing round my ears like swarms of deadly wasps. Ham and his men were gaining on me every second.
I galloped along in a thick cloud of dust thrown up by Wild Bob’s stallion. It made me cough and splutter and spit, but it was only this dust cloud that saved me from the chasing posse, making us all but invisible as they fired blindly into the fog of dirt. I could hear them getting nearer and nearer.
Then through the dirt cloud I saw Wild Bob gesturing towards a small track leading off to the right. As we reached it, Bob turned his horse without breaking stride, and – help! – how do you steer a horse again? I pulled on the reins, this way and that way, but it was too late. I went thundering straight past the turn, bouncing about in the saddle like a sack of potatoes.
Yikes! What was I going to do now? I yanked on the reins, Freecloud screeched to a halt and once again I went sailing over her head and crashed to the ground, my new lariat landing on top of me. With a whinny, Freecloud galloped away down the track after Fortune and Wild Bob.
‘Freecloud, come back, you stubborn old nag,’ I cried, chasing her down the track a little way.
I could hear Ham’s posse getting closer every second; soon they would be on top of me. What could I do? I had to think fast. What would the Lariat Kid do? I sat up, and as the rope slipped to the ground, an idea popped into my mind. I leaped to my feet and, finding the loop of the lasso, threw it over the stump of a nearby tree. Quickly I ran across the track, unravelling the lasso all the way. Finding a tall standing stone on the other side of the track, I looped the rope around it and dived to the ground just as the posse came charging into sight.
‘Off to the right,’ Horatio Ham was yelling. ‘They turned up that track; can’t you see the dust trail?’ The posse turned onto the track, and as they rode level with me, I pulled on the rope. It leaped from the dust, tightening across the path a few feet from the ground. Ham saw it too late and his horse galloped straight into the trap, tripping and stumbling and throwing Ham from its back. The rest of the riders ploughed into the back of his horse, and as their mounts reared and kicked and whinnied, they fell to the ground, dropping their rifles in the pandemonium. Ham landed with a sickening thump on the ground, the pistol in his holster went off with a crack and he yelled to one of his men.
‘Yow! Take me home, Virgil, I think I’ve just shot myself in the foot!’
As the men flailed around on the ground, rubbing their painful rears and holding bruised arms, Wild Bob Ffrance came thundering back down the track, leading a grumpy-looking Freecloud by her reins. From the way she pulled on the bridle and dug her hooves into the dusty path, I think she hoped she’d seen the last of me.
‘That’s some mighty fine lasso work, Kid,’ Bob smiled, hauling me onto the pony by the scruff of my neck. ‘That should teach you,’ he added to Ham. ‘Don’t ever mess with the Lariat Kid!’ And with a slap to the rear of my irritated pony and a ‘Yee-hah!’ we galloped away down the track again, followed by a couple of half-hearted shots from Ham’s posse.
We rode at full gallop for another half-hour, along dry riverbeds, through isolated groves of cactus trees and across a wide and empty plain towards a range of low mountains. All of a sudden, a huge shadow passed over the ground in front of us, and for a moment the air turned chilly. I shivered and looked up into the sky, and caught a glimpse of a large black shape disappearing into a bank of clouds.
‘What was that?’ I asked.
‘Mapwai,’ muttered Wild Bob with a shudder, staring up into the now empty sky with wide, fearful eyes. This was the first time I had seen the outlaw look scared.
‘What’s Mapwai?’ I asked.
‘With any luck, Kid, you’ll never have to find out,’ said Bob seriously. ‘C’mon, we’ve still got a little way to go.’
As we grew nearer, I could see that one of the mountains was perfectly conical in shape, its summit chopped flat and emitting large puffs of smoke. It’s a volcano, I thought. A volcano that looked as if it might erupt at any minute; what on earth were we heading towards that for?
‘There she is,’ said Wild Bob, pointing at the funnel-shaped flame-thrower of a mountain. ‘That’s home. That’s Destiny Mountain!’
Oh, brilliant, I thought. Things just keep on getting better and better!
We rode straight towards the volcano. When we reached the base, I thought Bob was going to try and ride straight up the sheer sides, but at the last minute he turned his horse and we trotted through the scrub that grew around the base of the mountain. Gradually the bushes started to get thicker and thicker, and Bob turned this way and that, following an invisible path through them.
Then, once again, the side of the mountain rose before us like a huge wall. It seemed we could go no further, but Bob turned back on himself and followed the side of the mountain for a bit, before disappearing into thin air!
One minute he was there and the next he was gone. I was alone in the bush, staring at the empty space he had just occupied. My jaw dropped open in amazement, and for a minute I sat there on Freecloud’s back like a complete lemon, looking this way and that. Midges buzzed in the warm air and somewhere I could hear the sound of a waterfall, but everything else was quiet. I couldn’t hear the clop of Bob’s horse, or the thin whistling that he constant
ly made between his teeth as he rode. I was alone. I was lost. I was …
‘Are you coming, or are you just going to sit there for the rest of the day?’ asked Bob, and once again I stared in wonder, for all I could see was his head. It seemed to float in mid-air about four metres up the side of the mountain. Then his stallion’s head appeared, followed by its neck, and I began to understand exactly what I was seeing.
There was a separate wall of rock that followed the curve of the mountainside about a metre and a half in front of the mountain itself, and it so completely matched the colour and texture of the volcano as to be almost invisible. As I nudged Freecloud forward, I came to the spot where Bob had disappeared and saw a narrow entrance to a path that led up the side of the volcano, completely shielded from view by the solid wall of rock on the other side.
‘Pretty sweet, eh?’ said Bob, smiling widely.
‘It’ll be pure bad luck if anybody ever finds the entrance to Destiny.’ He kicked his horse and I followed him up the rocky pathway. Every now and then, there was a small gap in the outside wall and, looking out, I could see we had risen hundreds of metres above the surrounding plain. It was a wonderful view and a fantastic lookout post. You would be able to see any enemies for miles. So it seemed strange that there wasn’t a lookout. If anyone did find the hidden path, it seemed that they could walk straight into the Desperados’ camp.
Then I heard a whistle, surprisingly close by, and it was answered by the hoot of an owl and I realized we had been watched all the way. The path entered the large archway of a tunnel in the mountainside, and looking up, I saw holes in the tunnel roof, like the murder holes in a castle gateway. If we had been enemies, I am sure that we would have been showered with all manner of rocks and boulders.
Suddenly we were through the tunnel, emerging into the bright sunlight on a platform of rock that looked down into the interior of the volcano. What a wonderful sight it was!
The sides of the volcano were sheer and high and completely hollow. Large hawks soared over the circle of sky above our heads; on all sides water cascaded down, forming deep green pools amongst the rocks at the base of the cliff face. The floor of the volcano was covered in lush grass on which the horses could feed, and near the centre were a group of rickety wooden huts, from where a group of men looked up at our approach. I began to feel very nervous as we trotted down into the interior of the volcano to meet them.
Almost immediately we were surrounded by a gang of the most disreputable-looking characters I’d seen since escaping from the grisly lady pirates. They were dirty, smelly and armed to the teeth with an amazing assortment of guns and rifles and daggers. One of them even had his pockets stuffed full with sticks of dynamite. If he tripped over, we would have all been blown to kingdom come. So, these were the famous Daredevil Desperados! They looked fierce and unfriendly, and they all started talking at once.
‘Everything go OK, Bob?’
‘Who’s your prisoner, Bob?’
‘Are we going to torture him straight away, or wait until after dinner?’
‘Whoa! Hold your horses, boys. This here is the Lariat Kid, and he’s not a prisoner, he’s a friend, a good friend. We really had some fun hounding Horatio Ham. Cornelius, if dinner is ready, serve it up and I’ll tell you all about it.’
As we sat around the campfire, eating generous portions of bacon and beans (don’t cowboys eat anything else?) and drinking glasses of something called Red-eye, Wild Bob told them all about how I had rolled into his camp, and how I had swiped Ham Junior’s horse, and how I brought down the whole of Ham’s posse with one flick of my lasso! The Desperados were delighted.
‘Oh, real sweet, I wish I’d seen that,’ said one of the gang, snorting down his nose. His shoulders were shaking with mirth, but his face stayed as long as a wet Sunday. ‘My name’s Sneaky Pete. Glad to make your acquaintance, Kid.’ And with that, all the Desperados started to introduce themselves, welcoming me as one of their own. All except one man who sat slightly apart from the group and just sat watching me, making me feel very uneasy.
‘That’s Gentleman Jim, a real pistolero,’ said Sneaky, pointing over at him. ‘He’s Wild Bob’s number two. He don’t say much, but he’s OK … as long as you don’t cross him.’
We had a fine old feast; the beans and the Red-eye flowed freely and the Desperados danced and sang, stamping their boots in the dust as Sneaky Pete played a battered old banjo. Yee-hah! This is the song that they sang:
When Ham rode into town, the wind howled just like a hound,
Lightning split the heavens and thunder shook the ground,
Daytime turned as black as night and clocks stopped on the shelf,
When Ham rode into Trouble, we thought it was the hound of hell himself.
Horatio Ham is a devil of a man, he’ll take just what he wants then say goodbye,
Horatio Ham is the devil’s own man, he’ll stake you out in the noonday sun and leave you there to fry.
When Ham takes a walk down Main Street, flowers shrivel up and die,
The ground begins to tremble and children start to cry, But when Wild Bob catches up with him, he’ll know he’s met his match,
Because Ham will need the doctor, but Bob won’t bear a scratch.
Horatio Ham is the devil of a man, he’ll take just what he wants then say goodbye,
Horatio Ham is the devil’s own man, he’s sold his very soul and now he is bound to die.
Keeping to my promise to record all the strange and wonderful people and creatures I meet, here are a few sketches of my new friends. And what a lovely bunch of vagabonds they are!
Wild Bob Ffrance
Wild Bob is leader of the Daredevil Desperados. You’ve already met him and know him for the amiable, brave and reckless hero of the people that he is.
Sneaky Pete
Poor old Sneaky is blessed with the most miserable face I’ve ever seen. It’s a real shame because he is really very cheerful and always ready with a joke. No one has ever seen Sneaky Pete smile; if something amuses him, he just gives a loud snort through his nose. He is the gang’s intelligence gatherer.
Gentleman Jim Silver
Gentleman Jim is a real dandy and dresses in black from head to toe. He has pure white hair and wears a hat pulled down low to protect his pale pink eyes. His boots sport sparkling rhinestones and silver spurs and he wears two silver revolvers with pearl handles. He is a quiet thinker, a slow talker, and a very dangerous gunslinger. Of all the Desperados, I find Gentleman Jim by far the scariest.
Mick the Miner
A giant of a man and the hairiest thing on two legs I’ve seen since meeting Thrak, King of the Gorillas. He is an expert at digging tunnels, and is able to take a full-grown man in each hand and lift them clean off the ground. Whatever you do, don’t get into a wrestling match with Mick the Miner; he will make mincemeat of you!
Jake ‘Pint-pot’ Penley
A fierce and tiny powerhouse of a Desperado, with just one eye and one leg. Rumour has it that his wooden leg has been specially adapted to help him fight, and he has to be seen to be believed! I don’t know if this is true.
Now it’s late in the evening and everything is quiet except for the call of the coyotes in the distance. I’m plumb-tuckered out after my day’s amazing adventures. Not surprising, really; I’ve made friends with a bunch of outlaws, outwitted the most powerful man in the territory and stolen his son’s horse. (Though if I’d known then what I know now about Freecloud, Silas Ham could have kept the bad-tempered, disobedient, grumpy, good-for-nothing brute!)
I have been given a berth in a small bunkhouse, which consists of four bunks, a locker for each man, a stove and a small table and some chairs. It’s nice and snug, and now I’ve finished bringing my journal up to date, I must get some sleep. Goodnight, partners!
Boy, do these Desperados snore. What’s more, with the aftereffects of so many baked beans, that’s not all they do; I’ve been woken up three times already, thinking that the vo
lcano was erupting!
The next morning, after a long breakfast (bacon and beans!) and a very, very quick wash under a freezing cold waterfall, Wild Bob made an announcement.
‘Now listen, partners,’ he said. ‘The Lariat Kid has saved my life once and upset Horatio Ham twice. So, I propose we make him a full member of the Daredevil Desperados. What do you say, boys?’
‘Sure thing, boss. Yee-hah!’ cried the gang, cheering and slapping me good-naturedly on the back while firing their guns in the air. All except Gentleman Jim Silver, who stood a little way off, staring at me from the deep shadow cast by the brim of his black hat.
‘What do you say, Jim?’ asked Wild Bob.
‘We don’t have much choice, do we?’ he said in a slow and lazy voice. ‘Now he knows the whereabouts of Destiny. Because we all know what happens to outsiders who know where our hideout is, don’t we?’
Nobody explained what happened to unwelcome visitors to Destiny, and I didn’t really want to find out, so I was mighty glad to become a fully-fledged fugitive and swear the oath of allegiance to the Daredevil Desperados of Destiny.
Then I was taught the Desperados’ secret handshake. It is done with the left hand in order to keep your shooting hand ready to draw at the first sign of trouble. This is the handshake, but please remember it is TOP SECRET and I will be in real trouble if any of the others find out I’ve written it down in here:
It was a real honour to become a lifelong Daredevil Desperado, but somehow I will have to tell them that I need to be moving on as soon as possible; I really must continue my journey home, but now that I’m a life member, will they let me leave?
The Daredevil Desperados of Destiny Page 3
