“No,” replied Mrs. Shirril, referring to the last remark of her nephew, “there never can be any worse days than those, when I did not know whether your uncle had not been dead for weeks or possibly months.”
“You must have had pretty tough times, aunt.”
“Well, they might have been improved, but Dinah and I managed to get along a great deal better than some of our neighbors. Here in Texas we were so far from the war that I may say I never heard a hostile shot fired, except by the Indians who came down this way now and then.”
“They were the same, I suppose, that still trouble us.”
“I believe so, mostly Comanches and sometimes Kioways, with perhaps others that we didn’t know. They did much to prevent our life from becoming dull,” added the brave little lady, with another smile.
“The women in those days had to know how to shoot the rifle, ride horses, and do the work of the absent men.”
“I don’t know how we could have got along if we hadn’t learned all those things. For years I never knew the taste of coffee, and only rarely was able to obtain a pinch of coarse brown sugar; but we did not suffer for meat, and, with the help of Dinah, we could get a few things out of the earth, so that, on the whole, I think I had much easier times than my husband.”
“I am not so sure of that,” remarked Captain Shirril, rousing himself; “we had rough days and nights, beyond all doubt, but after all, there was something about it which had its charm. There was an excitement in battle, a thrill in the desperate ride when on a scout, a glory in victory, and even a grim satisfaction in defeat, caused by the belief that we were not conquered, or that, if we were driven back, it was by Americans, and not by foreigners.”
“That’s an odd way of putting it,” remarked the wife, “but was it not the high health, which you all felt because of your rough outdoor life? You know when a person is strong and rugged, he can stand almost anything, and find comfort in that which at any other time brings only wretchedness and suffering.”
“I suppose that had a good deal to do with it, and that, too, may have had much to do with sustaining you and Dinah in your loneliness.”
The captain raised his eyes and looked at two old-fashioned muzzle-loading rifles, suspended on a couple of deer’s antlers over the fireplace, and smiling through his shaggy whiskers, said:
“You found them handy in those days, Edna?”
“We never could have got along without them. They served to bring down a maverick, or one of our own cattle, when we were nearly starving, and sometimes they helped drive off the Indians.”
Captain Shirril shifted his position, as though uneasy over something. His wife, who was familiar with all his moods, looked inquiringly at him.
“What troubles you, Dohm?”
“If I hadn’t promised Avon that he should go with me northward, I would make him stay at home.”
Wife and nephew stared wonderingly at him.
“The Comanches have been edging down this way for more than a week past; I believe they mean to make trouble.”
It would be supposed that such an announcement as this caused dismay, but it did not. Even Dinah, who was busy about her household duties, and who heard the remark, paused only a moment to turn up her nose and say scornfully:
“If dey’ve done forgot how we allers sarve de likes ob dem, jes’ let ’em try it agin. Dat’s all.”
She was a tall, muscular negress, whom an ordinary man might hesitate to make angry. She passed to another part of the room, after muttering the words, and seemed to feel no further interest in a subject which ought to have made her blood tingle with excitement.
“If the Comanches are hovering anywhere in the neighborhood,” said Mrs. Shirril in her gentle way, “it is in the hope of running off some of the cattle; you have them all herded and under such careful care that this cannot be done. When the Indians find you have started northward with them, they will follow or go westward to their hunting grounds; surely they will not stay here.”
“I wish I could believe as you do.”
“And why can’t you, husband?”
“Because Indian nature is what it is; you understand that as well as I. Finding that they cannot steal any of our cattle, they will try to revenge themselves by burning my home and slaying my wife and servant.”
“But they have tried that before.”
“True, but their failures are no ground to believe they will fail again.”
“It is the best ground we can have for such belief.”
CHAPTER II.
AN ALARMING INTERRUPTION.
“If you think it best that I shall stay at home, I will do so,” said the young man, striving hard to repress the disappointment the words caused him.
“No; you shall not,” the wife hastened to interpose; “everything has been arranged for you to go with your uncle.”
“Was there ever a wife like you?” asked the captain admiringly; “there is more pluck in that little frame of yours, Edna, than in any one of my men. Very well; Avon will go with us, but I can tell you, I shall be uneasy until I get back again.”
“We have neighbors,” she continued, still busy with her sewing, “and if we need help, can get it.”
“I declare,” observed the captain grimly, “I forgot that; Jim Kelton’s cabin is only eight miles to the south, and Dick Halpine’s is but ten miles to the east; if the redskins do molest you, you have only to slip in next door and get all the help you want.”
As we have said, it was a chilly night in early spring. The moon was hidden by clouds, so that one could see but a short distance on the open prairie. A fitful wind was blowing, adding to the discomfort of outdoors, and causing the interior of the cabin to be the more comfortable by contrast.
But a few rods to the westward was a growth of mesquite bush, in which the two mustangs that the captain and his nephew expected to ride were wandering at will. The animals were so trained that either would come at the whistle of his master, who, therefore, felt sure of finding him at command when wanted––that is, provided no outsiders disturbed him. This mesquite growth, consisting of open bushes which attain a height of eight or ten feet, extended over an area of several acres, affording the best kind of hiding-place for man or animal.
The signs of their old enemies, the Comanches, to which Captain Shirril referred, had been noticed by his men, including young Avon Burnet. They had seen the smoke of camp-fires in the distance, had observed parties of horsemen galloping to and fro, and, in fact, had exchanged shots with the dusky marauders when they ventured too near in the darkness.
There could be no doubt that these fellows were on the watch for a chance to stampede the cattle, but the vigilance of the cowboys prevented that disaster. Most of the latter believed the Comanches would hover on their flank, probably until the beasts were well out of Texas and far over the line in the Indian Nation or Kansas. That they would stay behind to avenge themselves upon the wife and servant of the captain was not to be believed. The wife was equally certain on that point, so their leader suffered himself to be persuaded that his misgivings were groundless.
But this feeling of security, which was felt by all, suffered a startling interruption.
When Captain Shirril erected his humble cabin several years before, he did not forget the danger to which he was certain to be exposed from the Indians. The wooden walls were heavy and bullet-proof, and the door was capable of being barred so strongly at an instant’s warning, that nothing less than a battering ram could drive it inward. The windows were too narrow to admit the passage of the most elongated redskin that ever wormed himself into the camp of an enemy. The structure was long and low, with an upper story, in which the cowboys slept whenever it was advisable to do so.
“You have had so much experience with this kind of business,” said the captain, “that I suppose I ought not to feel uneasy, even if I knew you would be attacked, for there are two guns here ready for you and Dinah, and you have both proven that you understan
d how to use the weapons; there is plenty of ammunition, too, and since you have had full warning of what may possibly take place–––”
At that instant the resounding report of a rifle broke the stillness on the outside, there was a jingle of glass, and the pipe which Captain Shirril had held in his mouth while talking was shattered as if from the explosion of a torpedo within the bowl.
Nothing could have shown the wonderful training of this little family in the perils of the frontier more strikingly than did their actions at this moment. Not a word was spoken, but almost at the instant the alarming occurrence took place, the captain, his wife, and his nephew leaped backward with lightning-like quickness. The movement took the three out of range of the two windows at the front of the house, with the door midway between, those being the only openings on the lower floor.
Dinah happened to be at the extreme rear, where she was safe for the time. She was about to advance, when checked by the crash of the window pane and the crack of the rifle.
“For de Lawd’s sake,” she exclaimed, “de warmints hab come!”
“So they have,” replied the captain, rising upright from his crouching posture, “and see what they have done!”
He held up the stem of his pipe, which he had kept between his teeth during the exciting moments, with such a grim expression of woe that, despite the frightful incident, his wife and even Avon smiled.
“It is a pity indeed,” she said, “you will have to use your new one, and I know how much that will pain you.”
“They shall pay for this,” he added with a shake of his head.
Fortunately the rifles of himself and nephew were leaning in the corner, where they could be readily seized without exposing themselves to another treacherous shot. The men laid hands on them at once.
The weapons were of the repeating kind, and among the best that money could buy in San Antonio.
The two guns belonging to Mrs. Shirril and their servant rested together on the deer’s prongs over the mantel, and, to reach them, one must expose himself to another shot from the outside.
Following the rifle report, the sound of horses’ hoofs were heard galloping rapidly around the cabin. The captain listened intently for a moment, holding one hand aloft as a signal for the others to keep silent.
“There’s fully a dozen of them,” he said a minute later in a low voice.
“But they know you and Avon are here,” added his wife, who was standing motionless just behind him, without any evidence of excitement except that her face was a shade paler than usual.
“I should think so, judging from that,” he replied, spitting the stem of his pipe upon the floor; “but I must get those guns for you.”
“Don’t think of it,” she persisted, laying her hand on his shoulder; “you will surely be shot, and there’s no need of them yet.”
“You may as well begin at once; you haven’t had any practice for months.”
Gently removing the hand of his wife, whom he loved as he did his life, the captain, holding his own gun in hand, began moving stealthily across the floor toward the fireplace. Had he been on his feet, he must have been observed by anyone in the position of the savage that had fired the shot which was so well-nigh fatal, but, while so close to the floor, he would not be seen by any Comanche unless he was quite close to the window.
The redskin might and might not be there: that risk must be taken, or the guns would have to be left alone for the time.
Mrs. Shirril was more disturbed than ever, for she knew as well as did her husband the risk he ran, but she knew, too, that, when he once decided to do a thing, it was idle to seek to restrain him.
The burning wood threw an illumination through the room which rendered any other light unnecessary, and the captain could not have been in clearer view had the midday sun been shining. Nevertheless he crept slowly forward, until in front of the fireplace. Then he paused to consider which of two methods he had in mind was the better for obtaining the weapons.
The Comanches were still circling back and forth on the outside, uttering their whoops and firing their guns at intervals, though the latter consisted of blind shooting, and was meant to terrify the defenders, since none of the bullets found its way through either of the windows.
Captain Shirril took but a few seconds to decide upon his course of action.
CHAPTER III.
JUST IN TIME.
Bending as closely to the floor of the cabin as he could, the Texan advanced until directly in front of the crackling fire, when he reached up with his Winchester, which was grasped near the muzzle. By this means he placed the stock directly beneath the two weapons resting on the deer antlers.
With a deftness that would hardly have been expected, he raised both guns until their stocks were lifted clear off their support, when he began gently lowering them, so as to bring them within his reach. He might have flirted them free by a single quick movement and let them fall upon the floor; but he wished to avoid this, since he ran the risk of injuring them.
None knew better than Avon Burnet the great danger of this apparently simple act on the part of his uncle. The chances were so immeasurably in favor of his discovery that he was certain it would take place. While the wife and servant held their breath in a torture of suspense, the youth, with his cocked rifle firmly grasped, stole softly along the side of the cabin until close to the door. In reaching the spot, he stooped so as to move beyond the first opening, the proceeding placing him between the windows, with his left elbow against the heavy door.
In this situation his nerves were at the highest tension. Everything was in plain sight, but he was listening intently to the movements of his enemies. He heard the sounds of the mustangs’ hoofs, as they circled swiftly about the cabin, sometimes turning quickly upon themselves, and at varying distances from the structure. Now and then one or two of the horsemen would rein up abruptly, as if striving to peer through the openings, or about to apply for admission.
It may seem incredible, but there is no reason to doubt the fact that, at the moment Captain Shirril began cautiously reaching upward with his weapon, the youth heard one of the Comanches slip down from the back of his mustang and approach the door. His hand moved softly over the rough surface, as though searching for the latch string, which was generally hanging out; and, finding it not, he began stealing to the window just beyond.
This was the very thing Avon dreaded above all others, for it was inevitable that he should detect the figure of the Texan operating so guardedly in front of the fire.
Such proved to be the fact. Whether the youth actually observed the action of the Indian, or whether he fancied he heard him moving along the side of the house, cannot be said with certainty; but a faint rustle in front of the shattered glass made known that the dusky miscreant was there, and had detected the stratagem of the Texan, who at that moment was in the act of lowering the gun from the deer’s prongs over the mantel.
His uncle was so clearly in his field of vision that, without looking at him, Avon did not miss the slightest movement, but his whole attention was fixed on the window, and it was well it was so.
“Look! look! Avon, do you see that?”
It was his aunt who uttered the terrified question with a gasp, as she pointed at the narrow opening.
The youth had observed the object which appalled the lady; the muzzle of a gun was slowly gliding through the window.
Captain Shirril had been discovered, and the Comanche was fixing his weapon in position to fire a fatal shot. He might have stood back a couple of paces and discharged it without revealing his presence, but a better aim could be secured by thrusting a few inches of the barrel into the room.
At the instant the dark muzzle showed itself and the gleam of the firelight was reflected from it, Avon leaned his own rifle against the door at his side, quickly drew his revolver from the holster at his hip, sprang forward like a cat, and seizing the muzzle of the gun threw it upward toward the ceiling.
It was d
one in the nick of time, for the Comanche pressed the trigger just then, and the bullet which, had Avon’s action been delayed a single moment, would have killed Captain Shirril, was buried in the timbers overhead.
The daring act brought the youth directly in front of the window, where for the instant he was exposed to any shot from the outside.
As he made the leap he saw the face of the warrior, agleam with paint and distorted with passion, but slightly flustered by the unaccountable occurrence. Before he could recover, and at the same instant, Avon darted his revolver through the shattered window pane and let fly with two chambers in quick succession. An ear-splitting screech and a heavy fall left little doubt of the success of the daring act. The Comanche had not only been hit, but hit hard.
Although startled by the noise and flurry, Captain Shirril was too much of a veteran to be taken at fault. His big right hand closed around the two weapons for which he had run all this risk, and partly straightening up, he bounded to the rear of the little room with three rifles secure in his grasp, and with not a hair of his head harmed.
Avon was as much on the alert as he, and reached the shelter at the same moment.
“It was confoundedly more risky than I supposed,” remarked the captain, with a smile and a shake of his head, “but all’s well that ends well; I guess you dropped him, my boy.”
“I shouldn’t wonder, for I couldn’t have had a better chance,” was the modest reply of the youth.
“It was one of the neatest things I ever saw, and I’m proud of you,” exclaimed his relative, slapping him affectionately on the shoulder. “I said you would count as a full hand on the trip to Kansas, but at this rate you’ll add up double.”
Avon blushed as he used to do in school, when his teacher praised him for excellent lessons, and made no answer, but the eyes of his aunt kindled with love for the brave fellow who, by his readiness of resource, had saved her husband’s life. Even Dinah, with whom he had always been a favorite, added an expression of affection for the boy who had done so well.
The Edward S. Ellis Megapack Page 23
