Ted Strong in Montana

by Taylor, Edward C

  Ted knew that a wolf that will stand and fight a man by himself is possessed of more than ordinary courage and brains, and, therefore, he was on the lookout for the tricks of the fight.

  It was well that he was so versed, for before he was quite ready for it the wolf, without a sound, leaped straight through the air at his throat. He had just time to dodge aside, and make a vicious swipe with his knife.

  But his blade did not touch the wolf, whose leap carried him several feet past Ted. Had the wolf succeeded in striking Ted, they would inevitably have gone down together, and Ted would have had none the best of it.

  But the battle between Ted, the skilled huntsman and wolf exterminator, and the wily wolf, whose scarred hide told of many battles with bull and dog, wild cat and man, serpent of the desert, and the eagles of the mountains, when, in his dire hunger, he had raided their families.

  The wolf slid a few feet, then swung himself around like a top and came at Ted again.

  Ted was wiser this time, and dodged just out of the way. At the same time he gave a vicious side lunge with the knife, and he felt it enter the wolf's hide. There was a ripping sound, and he knew he had added a scar to the brute's large collection.

  The wolf was now thoroughly angry, and snarled its fury as it wheeled once more to the attack.

  Ted turned to meet it as it rushed toward him, but as he did so he heard a shout from the ranch house and turned his head in that direction for an instant.

  But that instant was the critical one, and before he could get around again to face the wolf it was upon him.

  Ted felt it strike his chest a mighty blow with its head, and staggered backward.

  It suddenly came to him that if he got under the wolf its teeth surely would get to his throat, and that one snap of those saber-sharp teeth would settle the business for him.

  He tried to protect his throat with his left arm as he felt himself toppling, but could not get it up far enough because the wolf's body and head interposed.

  But he was slashing away with his knife in a frenzy of despair, and, apparently, was doing some execution, for every time he struck the wolf let out a little whine of angry pain.

  But the wolf had all the best of it now, and as Ted's foot slipped on some pieces of dry grass he went down with the heavy brute on top of him.

  He could feel it nuzzling at his neck for a toothhold on his throat, but he kept his chin pressed close to his neck, and, although the wolf chewed his shirt to pieces, it had found no room to get its teeth into the boy's flesh.

  Ted had no time now to play with the knife. It was not up to him to conquer the wolf now, but to keep it from taking his life.

  Had his revolver been with him he could have ended the fight with a couple of shots, even if the brute seemed to have a dozen lives, for he knew that had any one of the knife thrusts which he had planted in the wolf's body been given to an ordinary specimen of the species the fight would have been over long since.

  The wolf was standing on him, and its weight crushed him.

  All he could do in self-defense was to try to get the wolf by the throat with his bare hands and to choke it.

  But the hair about its throat was a thick, almost impenetrable mass of heavy, thick-growing bristles, on which Ted's hands had apparently no effect at all.

  Ted was in a pretty tight place, and he fully realized it.

  The wolf was working hard to get at his windpipe, and the teeth were getting closer and closer to the vital spot.

  Ted's arm, where he tried in vain to get it between himself and the wolf, was gashed in a dozen places, and the blood was all over him. His clothes had long since been torn into shreds.

  The wolf was getting tired also, as well it might, for, probably it had been running all night, and had been long without food, so that it was no discredit to its enormous strength that it was weak and weary.

  But neither was Ted as strong as usual, for the ball which had creased his rib had cost him lots of blood.

  In the hearts of both of them, however, there was strength enough, and it was that which kept them fighting long after both of them were tired and winded.

  The wolf knew, as well as did Ted, that if it ever got to his throat there would be strength enough for it; the strength that comes from blood.

  Ted was wishing that some one would come.

  He had heard a cry. Why didn't whoever had called out come at once?

  He couldn't last more than a minute longer, and the strong, murky smell of the beast was turning him faint, as the wolf seemed to be gaining in strength and savagery.

  Presently he knew the reason. He felt that his side was wet.

  His wound had opened again, and he was bleeding.

  The wolf had smelled his blood, and it had renewed its strength and courage, while it weakened and took the life out of Ted.

  Suddenly there was a crash of hoofs on the sod. Stella's clear voice rang out, and the swish of a quirt came through the air.

  That was all Ted remembered, except that he felt relieved of the weight of the wolf, which was running like a streak of gray lightning toward the hills.

  His eyes opened, and he saw Stella bending over him, and managed to stagger to his feet, congratulating himself as his hand went to his throat that he had at least saved it from the white fangs of his enemy.

  * * *

  CHAPTER XXI.

  'WARE THE GRAY WOLVES.

  As Ted and Stella were walking slowly back toward the house they heard a series of shouts from the direction of the corral.

  They then saw Kit at the corral gate waving frantically to them.

  "Something wrong there," said Ted. "I'll get up behind you, and we'll hurry to the corral."

  He jumped upon the pony's back, and Stella rode as fast as possible to where Kit stood holding the gate of the corral.

  Inside the corral was a scene of confusion.

  The ponies were running around and leaping in the air, snorting and edging away from the little bay pony which had come across the plain chased by the wolves.

  As Ted rode up to the corral fence he looked through the bars, then started back in surprise with an exclamation.

  "What is it?" asked Stella.

  "A man tied to the back of the pony," replied Ted.

  "Who?"

  "I cannot tell. I cannot see his face."

  "Open the gate, Kit, and let me in," said Stella, gathering up her reins.

  "What are you going to do?" asked Ted.

  "I'm going to catch that pony and bring him out. That man will be smashed to death in there by the other ponies if he isn't gotten out soon."

  "Go ahead, but be careful."

  Kit swung the gate open, and Stella dashed into the corral.

  The ponies were running around the corral, following the line of the fence, and in the center of the bunch was the little bay pony with the inert, and probably dead, body of a man hanging head downward on the pony's flank, rolling horribly, and in constant danger of being hit by the flying heels of the other ponies, who were frantic at the smell of blood.

  Stella rode among the ponies, following the circle with them, all the while edging in more and more until she was close to the little bay.

  Then she was able to see the face of the man tied to its back.

  "It's Farnsworth," she shouted to Ted, who was standing on the fence watching her movements.

  "Get him out as soon as you can," Ted answered.

  Stella rode to the pony's side, and managed to get hold of the bridle close to the bit.

  Then she maneuvered for an opening by which she could lead the frightened animal out of the bunch.

  "Get ready to open the gate," she called at last, and Kit stood with his hand on it.

  As she came around again she began pushing the bay pony outward.

  "Now!" she cried, swinging her own pony against the other with a prick of the spur, and breaking through the galloping bunch.

  The next moment she and a half dozen of the frigh
tened ponies swept through the gate, and as Kit closed it again Ted ran forward and caught the bay pony.

  "Hurry him to the house," he said, running beside the bay.

  His long yell brought the boys and the major to the veranda, and when they saw Ted running beside the bay pony, with Stella and Kit following, they rushed out to help.

  "What is it?" asked the major, as Ted drew up to the veranda.

  "Your brother," answered Ted gently, indicating the inert body tied to the pony's back.

  "Get him off and into the house," said the major brusquely, his face white with apprehension.

  Bud and Ben were working as for their lives at the rope by which the body of Frederic Caruthers was bound to the pony's back.

  Soon they had him released, and between them bore the limp form into the living room and laid it on a lounge.

  The clothes on the body were torn into strips, and the flesh was gashed in numerous places. This was the work of the wolf's teeth, which, during the chase, had repeatedly leaped at the unconscious man, trying to drag him from the pony's back.

  "These wounds are not the worst," said Ted, looking down at Caruthers. "Off with his clothes, boys, and let us see where his real hurt is."

  It did not take long for the boys to get Caruthers' rags stripped from his body, and Ted bent over him, examining him closely.

  "Ah, here it is," he said, as he turned Caruthers over.

  "What?" asked the major, crowding in.

  "Here in the back," said Ted, pointing to a small, round, bluish hole just under Caruthers' right shoulder blade.

  "By Jove, he's been shot through the body. That's what brought him to this."

  "But how did it happen, I wonder, that he was tied to the back of the pony?" asked Ted.

  "We'll never know until he tells us, probably," said the major. "If, indeed, he ever is able to do that," he continued, after a slight pause, looking sorrowfully at the young fellow, who seemed to have breathed his last.

  But Ted's ear was pressed close to his heart, and his fingers sought the wounded man's pulse.

  In a moment he straightened up.

  "He's alive—only alive, and no more. But perhaps we can save him yet," he said. "Hustle, fellows! Stella, get me some hot water as soon as possible. Bud, arrange a cot in my room near the window. Major, if you have any brandy, let me have some. Kit, get the bandages ready and prepare some carbolated water. All alive now."

  Ted's vigorous action was followed by the others, and in a few minutes Caruthers was stretched out on the cot in Ted's room.

  At the movement the wound began to bleed, which was a good sign, and Ted proceeded to wash it with warm water, and began to probe for the ball, to ascertain, if possible, how deep it had gone.

  As he was engaged in probing a slight groan came from between the blue lips of the victim.

  "All right, I've found it," said Ted, in a low voice to the major, who was bending anxiously over the body of his brother.

  "It's all right," continued Ted reassuringly. "It didn't go in very deep, and if he can hold out for a moment or two I think I can get it out. I've taken out worse ones than this."

  Ted continued to work with the probe, and occasionally Caruthers stirred and groaned.

  Then came a gentle tug, and the bullet rolled out of the wound upon the sheet.

  It was followed by a spurt of blood, which Ted looked at closely.

  "No danger," he said. "It is not arterial blood. Give me the water, and then the bandages."

  With deft and practiced fingers Ted bound up the wound as well as a surgeon might.

  "Now for a sip of the brandy, and we'll have him around all right," said the young amateur surgeon.

  He forced a teaspoonful of the ardent spirits between the pale lips of the wounded man, which was followed by a spluttering cough, then a long sigh, and Caruthers opened his eyes.

  For a moment he glanced around, and with a faint smile closed his eyes again, and sank into a gentle sleep.

  "Bully!" exclaimed Ted, with satisfaction. "He'll get well now, I think, but he had a close call. A little longer on the back of that pony, jostled and being tossed around, would have finished him in spite of his splendid physique."

  "What shall we do now?" asked the major.

  "There is nothing we can do except care for him faithfully, and nurse him. Some one will have to watch him, and give him his medicine, which I shall prepare from your medicine chest, major."

  "Let me nurse him," exclaimed Stella, who had come into the room in time to hear this.

  "The very thing, if you don't mind," said Ted.

  "Mind! I should like to. And you know that I can nurse some," said Stella proudly.

  "I know it from experience. Keep him quiet. Don't let him talk, and whenever he gets restless give him a spoonful of his medicine. He mustn't be allowed to toss around, for that would start internal bleeding. He is not out of the woods by a long shot. When he is well will be time enough for him to do his talking, and tell us what happened to him. Now, fellows, we'll clear out and give nurse and patient a fair show."

  For several days Caruthers hung between life and death. Most of the time he was in a state of delirium, during which he continually muttered something about "joy." When Stella told Ted about this he was greatly puzzled. What had the poor chap to do with joy?

  Then it suddenly occurred to him that Caruthers meant Ban Joy, Helen Mowbray's Japanese servant, who was called Joy for short.

  "He wants to tell us about that Jap," said Ted. "Evidently he knows something about the murder of his sister, and wants us to find the Jap."

  "Thar's nothin' doin' until he gets over his fever an' is strong ernough ter talk," said Bud, "So ther best thing ter do is not ter mind what he says, but ter git him over his fever."

  Stella was well-nigh worn out, but she would not consent to leave the bedside of the sick man, except at short intervals, when Ted or Bud, who were the best nurses among the boys, took her place that she might get some much-needed sleep.

  That night Caruthers awoke from a long sleep and looked up at Stella.

  "Where am I?" he asked, in a low voice.

  "You are with friends," she replied gently. "Hush, you are not strong enough to talk."

  "Yes, I am. I am all right now. Whose house am I in?" he asked.

  "You are in Major Caruthers' house."

  "I am glad. Is Ted Strong here?"

  "Yes."

  "Send him to me. I must talk to him. How long have I been here?"

  "About a week."

  "Hurry. It may be too late."

  Stella saw that Caruthers' head was clear, and that he had something important to communicate, and that it would not be well with him if he were permitted to worry, so she went out, and presently Ted entered the room.

  "Well, old chap, you look fit," he said, giving Caruthers' hand a gentle pressure.

  "I'll be all right in a day or two. But I must talk with you. Tell me, have the Gray Wolves been here yet, and have you driven them off?" said Caruthers excitedly.

  Ted was sure now that the patient had relapsed back into his delirious talk, and tried to soothe him.

  "I'm all right," said Caruthers impatiently. "I know what I'm saying. I don't mean the pack that chased me."

  "No, we have not been attacked by wolves," Ted answered.

  "Then you will be. Have you seen Joy—Ban Joy, the Jap, I mean?"

  "No."

  "That is strange. He should have been here if he got away."

  "I'm up in the air as to what you mean. If you are strong enough, perhaps you'd better tell what you mean, beginning at the time you left us, and telling it as briefly as possible."

  "All right. But first give me a dose of that medicine."

  Ted administered the medicine, which was a mild stimulant, and Caruthers began:

  "When I jumped through the window, I did so, not because I was afraid of the four men, but to save you from trouble. I knew that the fellows had been sent to get me, not
by the authorities, but by my brother-in-law Mowbray. You know about him?"

  Ted nodded, and Caruthers went on:

  "I went directly to Sombrero Peak. I knew they would look for me in another place. I was right, but I had not foreseen another thing. When I was in hiding I was surprised by the sudden appearance of Ban Joy and his sister Itsu San, the servants of my sister. They, too, had fled from Mowbray and his gang of murderers.

  "This was somewhat inconvenient for me, for I knew that Mowbray, while he would not probably get on my track until I could communicate with you, would easily track the Japanese, and I was not in any position to defend myself and them, for I was out of ammunition, having lost my cartridge belt. But I found a small cave and fortified it as well as possible, and awaited the coming of the Gray Wolves."

  "The Gray Wolves?" said Ted, with interrogation in his voice.

  "Yes, that is what Mowbray and his thieves and murderers call themselves. You will know why, I'm thinking, before long.

  "But to proceed: We continued to live in the cave for a few days, Joy contriving to trap rabbits and birds, upon which we lived. Then, in a moment of foolhardiness, I determined to go out and see if I could find out whether we had been followed, and at the same time try to get to San Carlos and supply myself with a Winchester and some cartridges, for I knew that, if I was properly armed, I could stand off the gang.

  "Well, I saddled the little pony and started out, after telling Joy to come here if I didn't return. I scouted cautiously among the hills, trying to find the pass on the other side of the peak which led out to San Carlos.

  "To make a long story short, I rode right into the trap, and was caught by the Gray Wolves. I had six shells in my revolver, and as they surrounded me I fought for my life, and I am glad to say I got three of them before they got me. But I couldn't hit Mowbray, although I tried my best to do so. He seemed to bear a charmed life. As soon as I had fired my last shot I wheeled the pony and fled. Up to this time I had not been hit, but just as I was getting safely away, having jumped through the men surrounding me, clubbing them to the earth with the butt of my pistol, I turned to look back. I saw Mowbray bring down his rifle and take deliberate aim at me, and I shuddered, because Mowbray is one of the finest shots in the world. Then I heard the report of his weapon, and felt the sting of the bullet. He had aimed to strike my heart, but the turn of my body saved me."