On seeing their leader fall, the men, both white and red, in the valley, ran hither and yon in a state of great excitement.
But when the boys began to fire systematically at them, kicking up the snow about them with every shot, it became a veritable panic.
Shouts of terror were heard, and, as the young woman raised the man with the silver mask to his feet and helped him walk to the tent, the others hastily saddled their ponies, and prepared to decamp.
All the while the boys were pumping Winchester balls into them, and occasionally a horse dropped, or with a yell a man would grasp a leg or an arm and fall to the ground.
"We've got them going," shouted Ted. "Keep it up until we get them on the run."
The boys fired their rifles until they got hot, then waited for them to cool, and resumed firing.
It was like bedlam in the valley, and not one of the men attempted to retaliate by firing back. They were in a panic of fear.
As soon as one got his horse saddled he dashed away toward the head of the valley out of the way of those spiteful bullets which sang about them like enraged hornets.
Not one of them stopped to burden himself with his baggage, nor did they pay any attention to the stolen cattle.
They were in too much of a hurry to get away safely themselves.
The Indians left their tepees standing, and ran for their lives.
Soon the valley was clear of men. All that remained in sight were the bunch of cattle, a small band of ponies in a rope corral, and the tepees and tents.
"I guess we're safe to go down now, and take possession of our own," said Ted.
"Don't forget that Silver Face and the young woman are in that tent," said Stella warningly. "Look out for treachery."
Without further delay the boys and Stella climbed down the mountain to where their horses were, and, mounting, rode fearlessly into the valley.
As they approached the tents the flap of one of them was pushed back and the young woman came out.
Her hand was raised for silence, and the tears were coursing down her cheeks.
"Hush!" she said. "He is dead."
"Who is dead?" asked Ted, with the greatest respect.
"Silver Face," was the answer.
"Who was he?" asked Ted.
"I don't know. I found him lying in the mountains almost dead from an accident a few months ago, and nursed him back to life, but he never spoke again, and he has never been able to let me know who he was."
"Pardon me, but who are you?" asked Ted.
"I?" said the woman, drawing herself up proudly. "I am Whipple."
"What? Leader of the Whipple gang?" asked Ted, almost incredulously.
"The same," said she. "I have laughed many times at the fear I inspired among you ranchmen in the valley, and the officers of the law, to say nothing of the soldiers. But that was because they had never seen me, and believed me to be a man."
They all looked their astonishment, for she was an exceedingly pretty woman, and spoke in gentle tones.
"But it is all over now," she continued sadly. "If those steers and ponies are yours, take them. I am going to leave the mountains, and my men are scattered and will leave also. I told them to go. And now that Silver Face is no more, there is no reason why I should stay here."
"You loved him?" asked Ted, nodding toward the tent.
"Yes," she answered quietly. "He was my husband. When I had nursed him back to life I sent my boys out and kidnaped a preacher. I had him brought here blindfolded, and made him marry us, then sent him back, not knowing where he had been."
Ted and the boys looked their sympathy.
"Can I be of any assistance to you in caring for him?" asked Stella, very sweetly.
A look of terror crossed the woman's face.
"No, no," she cried. "Leave me with my dead. Take what belongs to you and go."
She retired into the tent, and they heard her weeping, and turned away.
The boys started immediately on the back trail to the ranch, where they arrived with their cattle and ponies.
That was the last of the Whipple gang, for the members of it left the country, and the outlaw Indians were gathered in by the troops and the Indian police, and imprisoned on the reservations.
But on winter evenings, as he sat before the big fire in the Long Tom ranch house, his big snow camp, Ted Strong often turned over in his mind the facts about the death of Silver Face, the man of mystery.
Somehow, away down in his heart, he did not believe that the man with the silver mask was dead, but that he would some day meet him again and solve the mystery that surrounded him.
In the early part of December, however, the members of the Moon Valley outfit left the Long Tom Ranch for Phoenix, Arizona.
* * *
CHAPTER XIII.
AN UNEXPECTED GUEST.
Although it was winter, the air was soft and pleasant, and at noon the sun shone with some fervor.
It was Arizona, and as Ted Strong sat on Sultan and gazed across the wide valley, over which the sun's warm rays shimmered above the sand and cactus, greasewood and sage toward a low-lying ranch house in the far distance, it did not seem at all like Christmas.
But it was Christmas Eve, in spite of the fact that there was no snow, no sleigh bells, no apparent use for Santa Claus, and that roses were blooming in yards where there was sufficient black earth for them to thrive.
Behind his saddle Ted had a great bundle wrapped in burlap and securely tied.
For many miles on the way Ted had cast anxious glances behind him, and occasionally reached back to assure himself that he had not lost his freight.
This argued that it was a very precious burden.
"I guess that must be the place," mused Ted, as he looked at the apparently deserted house.
Not a live creature was to be seen about the place, neither man, woman, nor beast.
"Cheerful-looking prospect for Christmas," Ted continued to soliloquize, as those who travel or ride on mountain or plain in solitude often get in the habit of doing.
"Wonder where the folks are?" he continued. "Hope they got here all right. But, of course, they did. Bud is too good a leader to let them get off the trail. Besides, they have been long enough on the way to have got here and back again." Again he paused, musing.
"Well, Sultan, old chap, it has been a long, dry drive, hasn't it?"
Sultan, on hearing his name, gave a toss of his head and a soft snicker, and Ted's hand passed gently over his beautiful, glossy mane with a caressing gesture.
"Hello, here comes some one. Wonder who it is. That's the only sign of life, except a few rattlesnakes and horned toads I've seen since I left the railroad at San Carlos."
Shading his eyes from the sun, Ted looked for several minutes at the dark speck bobbing along in the distance, a mere shadow against the yellow surface of the earth.
"He's taking his time," muttered Ted. "Reckon he's wondering who I am, and what I'm standing here for. It can't be one of our fellows. I guess I'll just wait for him to come up and say howdy."
There was a faint trail, or road, which skirted Sombrero Peak, the mass of multicolored rock at Ted's back, over which he had come on his way from San Carlos to the Bubbly Well ranch house, which he was now facing in the distance. But where he was now standing the road branched off to the west, while a fainter trail lay straight before him to the ranch house.
Bubbly Well was the ranch of Major Caruthers, an Englishman, and a retired officer of the British army, who had come to America to pass his remaining days in the open. He was a well-preserved man, tall, stalwart, with white hair and a red, fresh-looking face, who could ride well and was an excellent shot, but who knew nothing about the cattle business.
Ted had met him in Phoenix, at the hotel, and had dropped into "cow talk." When the English major learned that Ted knew so much about the cattle business, he told of his ranch at Bubbly Well, confessing that his own knowledge of steers, cows, round-ups, and the like was so limited th
at, instead of making the ranch pay, it had been steadily losing money for him.
It was then that the major had invited Ted to visit him at the ranch, look the situation over, and give expert advice how to better the condition of things.
"I'll tell you what we'll do," said the major; "let's make up a Christmas party for Bubbly Well. The holidays are so beastly lonely out here, don't you know, and Christmas knocks me all of a heap. Come out and help me make things cheerful."
"I'd like to," Ted had said, "but I'm not a free agent. I am with a party of friends, who are also my partners in the cattle business and other enterprises. You see, my first duty is to them. I don't know what their plans are."
At this the major looked considerably crestfallen. Then Ted, as briefly as he could, told the Englishman all about the broncho boys and their plans and principles.
As he talked, Major Caruthers occasionally interjected such exclamations as "Extraordinary!" "Very remarkable!" "Fawncy!"
He was intensely interested in Ted's accounts of some of the adventures which the members of the Moon Valley outfit had gone through, and when Ted stopped, with an apology for having consumed so much time in talking about himself and his friends, the major assured him that he could listen with pleasure and profit all night if Ted could only go on telling him such stories.
"My boy, I have the very thing," said the major, after a moment's thought.
Ted looked at the Englishman inquiringly.
"Do you think your friends, not knowing me, would accept an invitation to spend Christmas at Bubbly Well, and as long thereafter as they can and will?"
"That's a very kind thought," said Ted. "You see, we generally contrive to be at our Moon Valley Ranch at Christmas time, but this year we had business in this part of the country, and could not finish it in time to get back home, and were planning to get as much joy out of the day in the hotel here as we could."
"Christmas in a hotel!" exclaimed the major. "I can't think of anything more dismal. I'd spend Christmas in my own place even if there wasn't another live thing there, and nothing to eat but cheese and crackers."
"I feel very much that way myself," laughed Ted.
"Then you'll come?" asked the Englishman eagerly.
"I think my friends will be very glad to accept the invitation," answered Ted. "I am sure I should like to, personally, and I thank you for the privilege and the honor."
"Don't speak of it."
They talked of other things; about sport, and about the dangers of ranching in that country.
Before they parted it was decided that the broncho boys should visit Major Caruthers' ranch. They were to take their own mounts on the train to the nearest railroad station to Bubbly Well, where they would be met by one of the major's men as a guide.
It was three days before Christmas when all of them, except Ted, arrived at the ranch and were given a hearty welcome by the Englishman. That is, all arrived there except the leader of the broncho boys, who had remained in Phoenix to attend to some business details and do some shopping, agreeing to follow them later and arrive at the ranch Christmas Eve.
At the opening of this chapter we find him within sight of Bubbly Well, with a pack of Christmas presents for all hands on his back, waiting patiently for the approaching rider.
In the course of a few minutes, the stranger rode up, and, with a cold and quiet greeting, pulled in his mount, a beautiful chestnut mare, and looked Ted over from top to toe in a cool manner.
He was a handsome young chap, dressed in such a manner that Ted could not quite determine what he was. He had not the appearance of a cow-puncher, nor was he a town man, for he was bronzed by the sun, and he sat his mare like a born horseman.
His clothes were dark, save for a tan vest which buttoned close around his throat; his boots were of the very best quality, and fitted the calf of his leg snugly, and on his head was an expensive Stetson, with the skin of a rattlesnake for a band.
But it was his face that affected Ted with a sort of dislike that yet had something of fascination in it, while at the same time it puzzled him, it was such a strange mixture of good and bad.
"Can you tell me what ranch house that is over there, and who owns it?" said the stranger, in a well-bred manner that yet had the freedom of the West in it.
"Yes," answered Ted. "That is the Bubbly Well Ranch, and it is owned by Major Caruthers."
A strange expression passed over the young fellow's face.
"Jack Caruthers—do you happen to know?"
"I have never heard him called Jack," said Ted, smiling. "He signs himself 'John Stairs Caruthers.'"
"It must be the same," said the young fellow musingly.
"Do you know him?" asked Ted.
"Well, no. That is, not exactly." The stranger thought a moment. "I suppose I'll have to put up somewhere for the night; it's a dickens of a way to anywhere out here. I started from Rodeo, across the mountain, early this morning, thinking I could make it to San Carlos by night, but——"
"You couldn't get there before morning if you rode at top speed," said Ted, as the other hesitated.
"Are you going to the ranch house?" asked the stranger suddenly.
"Yes."
"Do you think your friend would put me up for the night?"
"I haven't a doubt of it. And to-morrow, too. You know this is Christmas Eve."
"So it is. I hadn't thought of it. My name is Farnsworth—Hilary Farnsworth."
The young fellow looked defiantly at Ted, who had started slightly at the name.
"Do you want to take me to the house now?" asked Farnsworth, with a slightly contemptuous smile.
So this was Farnsworth. "Fancy" Farnsworth, as he was called in the Southwest. Ted looked at him with new interest, and the other stared back with his gray eyes, which were as handsome as a woman's, and yet had in their depths a wicked, cruel gleam.
"I don't see why not," said Ted.
"You know me?" asked Farnsworth, with a smile.
"By reputation."
"May I ask your name?"
"Certainly. I beg your pardon. I am Ted Strong."
At this Farnsworth suddenly pulled his horse to its haunches, at the same time throwing his hand backward, and, with almost incredible rapidity, whipping out a revolver.
His face was white, and had as suddenly assumed an expression in which fear and determination were equally present.
"No, you don't!" he said slowly and coldly. "You don't get me that way. I'm not as easy as that."
Ted had made no move to draw his revolver, and was smiling in an amused sort of way.
"I'm sure I don't want you," he said.
"You're a deputy United States marshal, aren't you?"
"I am, but I'm not after you."
"Then you haven't heard?"
"Nothing about you recently. When I was in this part of the country before I heard——"
"Oh, you can always hear a lot about a fellow in this rotten part of the world—except the truth. Then you haven't heard the latest news from Rodeo?"
"Not a word."
"And you don't want to arrest me?"
"Not now. I wouldn't know what to arrest you for, and I haven't seen a United States warrant for months."
"I believe I can trust you. You seem to be a square chap, in spite of what I've heard of you. But I want to tell you one thing: I've got eyes in the back of my head, and there isn't a quicker man on the draw in Arizona, so no monkey business. This is not a boast, but a warning."
"I have nothing against you now," said Ted quietly; "but if I ever have, you'll know it, and have your chance. But I don't see any use in standing here in the sun palavering. Let's hike to the house yonder. I've been riding since daybreak without a drink, and I'd like to sample the major's famous Bubbly Well."
Farnsworth looked sharply at Ted for a moment, then replaced his revolver, and signaled to lead the way.
They rode in silence along the trail toward the ranch house for several minutes.
&nb
sp; "How shall I introduce you to the major—as Farnsworth?" asked Ted, at last.
Farnsworth paused to think before replying.
"I think not," he said at last. "If I am to stay there for the night, there may as well be no unpleasant feeling. Call me anything you like but that, and I will fall in with it. They may know something about me, and, while I would be safe while Major Caruthers considered me a guest, still, it might cause some restraint."
"Probably you are right. How will Mr. Dickson do?"
"As good as any. Say, Strong, you're a brick! I won't forget this."
"This is a sort of truce. Anyway, it's Christmas, and a fellow should put away malice at such a time."
"Have you malice toward me?"
"No, I can't say that I have. But I have heard things about you that haven't prepossessed me in your favor."
"Have you ever thought that perhaps you have heard more than the truth?"
"Of course; I know that men are usually painted worse than they are."
"That's true. It's especially true with regard to myself."
For a moment Ted said nothing. He was running over in his mind several of the stories he had heard about this handsome and daring young fellow.
"Well, I'll take your word for it because it's Christmas," he said at last.
"I'll make you believe that I'm telling the truth before our acquaintance ends," said Farnsworth. As Ted looked into his eyes he saw that they had changed in expression. Now they were bold and brave and truthful, where before Ted had seen only a cold, cruel, relentless look.
Ted threw back his head, and the Moon Valley yell issued from his mouth.
It instantly transformed the slumbering ranch house. Out of doors, from around corners, and even as if they sprang out of the ground, appeared the broncho boys, and the air fairly rang with their shouts of welcome.
"That's the way I'd like to be greeted," said Farnsworth, a little bitterly.
"Then why don't you fix it so that you are?" asked Ted, smiling.
* * *
CHAPTER XIV.
CHRISTMAS AT BUBBLY WELL.
Ted Strong in Montana Page 10
