Redskin and Cow-Boy: A Tale of the Western Plains

by G. A. Henty

 

  CHAPTER V.

  ACROSS THE SEA.

  Mr. Randolph was at dinner when the servant came in and said that youngMr. Tunstall wished to speak to him; he was in the library, and beggedthe lawyer to give him two minutes' conversation. Hugh was walking upand down the little room when he entered. The old lawyer saw at oncethat something was wrong.

  "What is it, Hugh, what is the matter, lad?"

  "A good deal is the matter, Mr. Randolph; but I don't want you to askme. I am sure you will be glad afterwards that you didn't know. Youwere a friend of my father's, sir. You have been always very kind tome. Will you give me fifty pounds without asking why I want it?"

  "Certainly I will, lad; but in heaven's name don't do anything rash."

  "Anything that was to be done is done, Mr. Randolph; please let me havethe money at once. You don't know how important it is. You will knowsoon enough."

  Mr. Randolph unlocked his desk without a word, and handed him tenfive-pound notes. Then he said: "By the way, I have gold, if you wouldrather have it. There were some rents paid in this afternoon."

  "I would much rather have gold."

  Mr. Randolph put the notes in the desk, and then unlocked the safe."Would you rather have a hundred?"

  "Yes, sir, if you will let me have them."

  The lawyer handed him a small canvas bag.

  "God bless you, sir!" the lad said; "remember, please, whatever youhear, it was done in self-defence."

  Then without another word he opened the door and was gone.

  "Why, what is the matter, my dear?" Mrs. Randolph exclaimed, as herhusband returned to the dining-room. "Why, you are as pale as death."

  "I don't know what is the matter exactly," he said. "Hugh has borroweda hundred pounds of me, and has gone."

  "Gone! Where has he gone to?"

  "I don't know, my dear. I hope, I sincerely hope he is going out of thecountry, and can get away before they lay hands on him."

  "Why, what has happened?"

  "I don't know what has happened. I know things haven't been going onwell for some time at Byrneside. I am afraid there has been a terriblequarrel. He begged me to ask him no questions, and I was glad not todo so. The less one knows, the better; but I am afraid there has beena scuffle. All he said was, just as he went out: 'Whatever you hear,remember I did it in self-defence.'"

  "But, goodness gracious, Thomas, you don't mean to say that he haskilled his uncle?"

  "I don't mean anything," the lawyer said. "Those were his words. Iam afraid it won't be long before we hear what he meant. If they cometo ask me questions, fortunately I know nothing. I shall say no wordexcept before a magistrate, and then my story is simple enough. He cameand asked me to let me have L100, and as I was his trustee, and havethe rents of his estate for the past five years in my hands, I let himhave it as a matter of course. I did not ask him why he wanted it. Isaw that he was agitated, and from his manner, and from my knowledgethat he and his uncle did not get on very well together, I judgedthere had been a quarrel, and that he intended to leave home for awhile. It was only when he was leaving the room that I gathered therehad been any personal fracas, and then from his words, 'It was donein self-defence,' I judged that his uncle had struck him, and that hehad probably struck him in return. I hope that is all, my dear. I prayheaven that it may be all."

  Hugh had dismounted just outside the town, opened a gate leadinginto a field, taken off his horse's bridle, and turned the horse inand closed the gate behind it. Then he had turned up the collar ofhis coat, pulled his hat down over his eyes, and made his way to thelawyer's. He had cooled down now, but still felt no regret for what hadpassed. "He would have killed me," he said to himself, "and I had nothought of killing him when I knocked him down; anyhow, he brought iton himself. If he is dead, and I am pretty sure he is, I have no one toprove that it was done in self-defence; but if he is not dead, he willgive his own version of it when he recovers. I know he is a liar, andin his quiet manner he would be able to make everyone believe that Ihad attacked him without the least provocation. He might even say thatI fired the pistol, that he knocked it out of my hand, and that then Isprang on him and struck him down with his head against that cabinet.Either way I shall get years of imprisonment if I am caught; but Idon't mean to be caught if I can help it."

  On leaving Mr. Randolph's he proceeded to the railway-station,consulted the time-tables, and then took a third-class ticket toGlasgow. He bought a Bradshaw, and sitting down on a bench under alight, turned to the advertisements of the sailing of steamers. By thetime he had done that the train came in. It was a slow one, stopping atevery station. He got out at the first station and paid the fare fromCarlisle, then walked back to the town, and took a second-class ticketby the night mail for London. Arriving at Euston, he walked across tothe docks, whence he had found that a steamer started for Hamburg ateight o'clock, and he would catch a trans-Atlantic steamer that startedthe next day. On his arrival at Hamburg he went to the steam-boatoffice and took a second-class ticket to New York. Having done this, hebought at a shop near the wharves a supply of clothes for the voyage,placed them in a cheap German trunk, and walked on board the steamer.

  He was now, he thought, fairly safe from pursuit. The hour at whichhe would arrive at the station at Carlisle would be known, and as thenorthern train was nearly due, and someone answering to his descriptionhad taken a ticket to Glasgow, it would be at once suspected thathe intended to sail by a steamer from that port. No pursuit could beset on foot before the morning. Indeed, it was probable that beforethe police took the matter fairly in hand it would be late in theafternoon. It might then be another day before they picked up the cluethat he had gone to Glasgow, and followed him there.

  If a steamer had happened to start that morning or the day before,it would be supposed that he had gone by it, and they might telegraphacross, and search the ship for him when it arrived at New York. If nosteamer had started, and they could obtain no clue to him in Glasgow,they would think that he had gone back to Liverpool, and would makesearch there, watching all the steamers sailing. They would in any casehardly suspect that he could have gone up to London, across to Hamburg,and caught the steamer sailing from there. Indeed, it would not havebeen possible for him to do so had he first gone up to Glasgow as theywould believe he had done.

  As soon as the vessel was fairly under way Hugh looked round. Ondeck there was no distinction made between second-class emigrantsand steerage, but it was easy to distinguish the two classes. Thesecond-class kept somewhat together near the companion leading to theirportion of the ship, while the steerage passengers were well forward.The number of the latter was not very large, for the emigrant trafficacross the Atlantic was still carried principally in sailing ships.The second-class were composed chiefly of substantial-looking Germans,for the most part farmers going out with a small amount of capital tosettle in the West.

  There were two or three other young Englishmen, and with one of these,named Luscombe, Hugh struck up an acquaintance before he had beenmany hours on board. He was a young man of about twenty, and Hugh soonlearned from him that he was the son of a large landed proprietor inNorfolk. He had for a few months been in a crack regiment of Hussars,but had gone, as he expressed it, a fearful mucker. His father hadpaid the greater portion of his debts, but had refused to settle somethat he considered debts of honour. Luscombe, therefore, sold out, andwas now, as he expressed it, going over to knock about for a bit inthe States, till his father took a "sensible view of things." "It wasrough on him," he said, "for I had run him up a pretty heavy bill twicebefore. However, I think it is all for the best. I should never havegot out of that line if I had stopped in the regiment. Two or threeyears knocking about, and hard work, won't do me any harm; and by thattime the governor will be prepared to receive the prodigal son withopen arms."

  Hugh was slower in giving his confidence. But before the voyage wasover he had told Luscombe why he had left England.

  "Well, you did quite right, of
course," Luscombe said, "in knockingthat brute of a fellow down, and if you did split his skull and makeyour aunt a widow you have nothing to reproach yourself with. Still,I agree with you that it will be more pleasant for you if he getsround, as I daresay he will, or else it will be a long while beforeyou can show up at home. Well, you will know by the time we have beenin New York a few days. If the papers the next mail brings out don'tsay anything about it you may be sure he has got over it. 'A gentlemankilled by his nephew' would be a startling heading, and if it is notthere, you may go about your work with a light heart."

  The voyage was marked by no incident whatever. On arriving at New YorkLuscombe and Hugh put up at a good hotel for a few days before makinga start west. They had agreed to keep together, at any rate for a time.Luscombe was several years older than Hugh, but he saw that the lad hadplenty of good sense and a fund of resolution, and knew that he himselfwas more likely to stick to work in such companionship than he shouldbe by himself. Luscombe's light-hearted carelessness amused Hugh, andthough he did not think that his companion was likely to stick verylong to anything he took up, he was very glad to have his companionshipfor a time. Hugh was thankful indeed when the next mail brought a batchof papers of a date a week later than that of his leaving Cumberland,and when a careful examination of the file disclosed no allusionwhatever to the event at Byrneside.

  "Well, I congratulate you, Hugh," Luscombe said when he told him."I expected it would be all right. If he had been a good old man youwould have killed him, no doubt, but bad men have always wonderfullythick skulls. Well, now you are ready, I suppose, to make our startto-morrow."

  "Quite ready, Luscombe. We are only throwing away our money here."

  They had already made many inquiries, and had settled that they wouldin the first place go down to Texas, and would there take the firstjob of any kind that offered itself, keeping it until they had time tolook round and see what would suit them best. Luscombe, however, saidfrankly that he thought it probable that sooner or later he shouldenlist in the cavalry out west.

  "I know I shall never stick to hard work very long, Hugh. I have notgot my fortune to make, and I only want to pass away the time for ayear or two until the old lady and the girls get the governor into acharitable state of mind again. He is a first-rate fellow, and I amnot surprised that he cut up rough at last. I expect a few months willbring him round, but I should not know what to do if I went back. Iwill give myself three years anyhow."

  "I am very much in the same position, Luscombe. I sha'n't go back untilI come of age. Then I can snap my fingers at my uncle. I have got avery good trustee, who will look after the estate. I will write to himto-night and let him know that I am all right and very glad to findthat uncle has not been killed, and that he may expect me when I comeof age, but not before."

  On the following morning they took their places in the train, andtravelled west, and proceeded to what was then the nearest terminusto their destination--Northern Texas. Travelling sometimes bystage-waggons, sometimes on foot, they arrived at M'Kinney, which theyhad been told was a young place, but growing fast.

  "Well, here we are at last," Luscombe said as they alighted at aone-storied building, on which was a board roughly painted, "The EmpireHotel." "At any rate the scenery is better than it has been for thelast two or three hundred miles. There are some good-sized hills. Someof those across the country ahead might almost claim to be mountains,and that is a relief to the eyes after those dreary flats. Well, letus go in and have a meal first, then we will look round. The place hascertainly not an imposing aspect."

  The meals here, as at the other places where they had stopped,consisted of fried steak, which, although tough, was eatable, andabundance of potatoes and cabbages, followed by stewed fruit. Theyhad arrived just at the dinner-hour, and seven or eight men in theirshirt-sleeves came in and sat down with them. The tea was somewhatbetter than that they had hitherto obtained, and there was, inaddition, the luxury of milk. Scarcely a word was spoken during themeal. It was evidently considered a serious business, and the chiefduty of each man was to eat as much as possible in the shortestpossible time. After the meal was over, and the other diners had goneout, the landlord, who had taken his seat at the top of the table,opened the conversation.

  "Are you thinking of making a stay here, gentlemen?"

  "Yes, if we can get any work to suit us," Luscombe said.

  "It is a rising place," the landlord said as he lit his pipe. "Thereare two stores and eight houses being built now. This town has a greatfuture before it." Luscombe and Hugh had some difficulty in preservingtheir gravity.

  "It is the chief town of the county," the landlord went on. "Theyare going to set about the court-house in a month or two. Our sheriffis a pretty spry man, and doesn't stand nonsense. We have an orderlypopulation, sir. We had only two men shot here last week."

  "That is satisfactory," Luscombe said dryly. "We are peaceablecharacters ourselves. And is two about your average?"

  "Well, I can't say that," the landlord said; "that would be too much toexpect. The week before last Buck Harris with three of his gang came inand set up the town."

  "What do you mean by set up?" Luscombe asked. The landlord lookedsurprised at the question.

  "Oh, to set up a town is to ride into it, and to clear out the saloons,and to shoot at anyone seen outside their doors, and to ride about andfire through the windows. They had done it three or four times before,and as four or five men had been killed the citizens became annoyed."

  "I am not surprised at that," Hugh put in.

  "The sheriff got a few men together, and the citizens began to shootout of their windows. Buck Harris and two of his gang were killed andfour of the citizens. Since then we have had quiet. And what sort ofwork do you want, gentlemen? Perhaps I could put you in the way ofgetting it."

  "Well, we wanted to get work among horses," Luscombe said.

  The landlord shook his head. "You want to go further south among thebig ranches for that. This is not much of a horse country. If you hadbeen carpenters now there would have been no difficulty. A good workmancan get his four dollars a-day. Then there is James Pawson's woodyard.I reckon you might get a job there. One of his hands got shot in thataffair with Buck Harris, and another broke his leg last week. I shouldsay there was room for you there. Madden, that's the man who was shot,used to board here."

  "What is your charge for boarding, landlord?"

  "Seventy-five cents a-day for three square meals; a dollar a-day ifyou lodge as well. But I could not lodge you at present. I must keep acouple of rooms for travellers, and the others are full. But you willhave no difficulty in getting lodgings in the town. You can get a roomfor about a dollar a-week."

  "Well, let us try the woodyard, Luscombe."

  "All right!" Luscombe said. "There is a certain sense of novelty abouta woodyard. Well, landlord, if we agree with this Mr. Pawson, we willarrange to board with you, at any rate for the present."

  They went down the straggling street until they came to a lot on whichwas piled a quantity of sawn timber of various dimensions. The namePawson was painted in large letters on the fence. A man and a boy weremoving planks.

  "Here goes!" Luscombe said, and entered the gate.

  "Want a job?" the man asked, looking up as they approached him.

  "Yes. We are on the look-out for a job, and heard there might be achance here."

  "I am James Pawson," the man said, "and I want hands. What wages do youwant?"

  "As much as we can get," Luscombe replied.

  Pawson looked them up and down. "Not much accustomed to hard work, Ireckon?"

  "Not much," Luscombe said. "But we are both pretty strong, and ready todo our best."

  "Well, I tell you what," the man said. "I will give you a dollar and ahalf a-day for a week, and at the end of that time, if you get throughyour work well, I will raise it to two dollars."

  Luscombe looked at Hugh, who nodded. "All right!" he said; "we willtry."

  Pawson gave a s
igh of relief, for hands were scarce. "Take off yourcoats then," he said, "and set to work right here. There is a lot to bedone."

  Luscombe and Hugh took off their coats, and were soon hard at workmoving and piling planks. Before they had been half an hour at itthere was a shout, and a waggon heavily laden with planks entered theyard. James Pawson himself jumped up on to the wagon, and assisted theteamster to throw down the planks, while the other two carried themaway and stacked them. Both of them had rolled up their sleeves tohave a freer use of their arms. The sun blazed hotly down, and theywere soon bathed in perspiration. They stuck to their work until sixo'clock, but by that time their backs were so stiff with stooping thatthey could scarcely stand upright, and their hands were blistered withthe rough wood. Pawson was well satisfied with their work.

  "Well," he said, "you move about pretty spry, you two do, and handlethe wood quicker'n most. I see you will suit me if I shall suit you;so I will make it two dollars a-day at once. I ain't a man that stintshalf a dollar when I see hands work willing."

  "Well, that is not a bad beginning, Luscombe," Hugh said as they wentto put on their coats.

  "We have earned a dollar, Hugh," Luscombe said, "and we have broken ourbacks and blistered our hands, to say nothing of losing three or fourpounds of solid flesh."

  "We did wrong to turn up our sleeves," Hugh said. "I had no idea thatthe sun was so strong. Why, my arms are a mass of blisters."

  "So are mine," Luscombe said ruefully, "and they are beginning to smartfuriously. They will be in a nice state to-morrow."

  "Let us stay at the hotel tonight, Hugh. I feel so tired that I am sureI could never set out to look for lodgings after supper."

  The next morning their arms were literally raw. Before starting towork they got some oil from the landlord and rubbed them. "It will besome time before I turn up my sleeves to work again," Luscombe said. "Ihave had my arms pretty bad sometimes after the first long day's row insummer, but I have never had them like this."

  They worked until dinner-time, and then Luscombe went up to Pawsonand pulled up his sleeve. "I think," he said, "you must let us bothknock off for the day. We are really not fit to work. We daren't turnup our sleeves, and yet the flannel rubbing on them makes them smartso that we can hardly work. Besides, as you said yesterday, we arenot accustomed to work. We are so stiff that we are not doing justiceeither to ourselves or you. If you have any particular job you wantdone, of course we will come after dinner and do it, but if not wewould rather be off altogether."

  "Your arms are bad," Pawson said. "I thought yesterday when you wereworking that, being new-comers, you would feel it a bit. Certainly youcan knock off. You ain't fit for it as you are. Take it easy, boys, fora few days till you get accustomed to it. We ain't slave-drivers outhere, and I don't expect nothing beyond what is reasonable. I shouldget my arms well rubbed with oil at once; then to-night wash the oiloff and give them a chance to harden, and in the morning powder themwell with flour."

  As soon as they had had their dinner they went out and found a roomwith two beds in it, and moved their small kits across there. Thenthey took a stroll round the town, of which they had seen little, andthen lay down in the shade of a thick cactus hedge and dozed all theafternoon. The next morning they felt all the better for their rest.The inflammation of their arms had greatly abated, and they were ableto work briskly.

  "What do you want with that revolver of an evening, Hugh, when you donot wear it during the day?" Luscombe asked as he saw Hugh put hisrevolver in his pocket when they went to their lodgings for a wash,after work was over for the day.

  "I take off my coat during the day, Luscombe, and whatever may be thecustom here I think it ridiculous to see a man at work in a woodyardwith a revolver stuck into his pocket at the back of his trousers. Atnight it is different; the pistol is not noticed under the coat, and Idon't suppose there is a man here without one."

  "I think one is just as safe without a pistol," Luscombe said. "Eventhese rowdies would hardly shoot down an unarmed man."

  "They might not if they were sober," Hugh agreed; "but most of thisshooting is done when men are pretty nearly if not quite tipsy. I heardmy uncle say once 'A man may not often want to have a revolver on him;when he does want a revolver he wants it pretty badly.'"

  A few days later they heard at supper that three notorious ruffians hadjust ridden into the place. "I believe one of them is a mate of BuckHarris, who was shot here three weeks ago. I hear he has been in thebar swaggering about, and swearing that he means to wipe out every manin the place who had a hand in that business. The sheriff is away. Hewent out yesterday with two men to search for a fellow who murdered aman and his wife somewhere down south, and who has been seen down inthe swamps of the East Fork. He may be away two or three days, worseluck. There is the under-sheriff, but he isn't much good by himself. Hecan fight, Gilbert can, but he never likes going into a row on his ownaccount. He will back up the sheriff in anything he does, but he hasgot no head to take a thing up by himself."

  "But surely," Hugh said, "people are not going to let three menterrorize the whole place and shoot and carry on just as they like."

  "Well, mate, I don't suppose we like these things more than anyoneelse; but I can tell you that when one of the three men is Dutch Sam,and another is Wild Harvey, and the third is Black Jake, it is not thesort of business as anyone takes to kindly, seeing that if there is onething more tarnal sartin than another, it is that each of them is goodto lay out five or six men before he goes under. When things are likethat one puts up with a goodish lot before one kicks. They are threeas ugly men as there are anywhere along this part of Texas. Any one ofthem is game to set up a town by himself, and when it comes to threeof them together I tell you it would be a game in which I certainlyshould not like to take a hand. You are new to these parts, mate, oryou wouldn't talk about it so lightly. When you have been out here fora few months you will see that it is small blame to men if they get outof the way when two or three fellows like this are on the war-path."

  At this moment there was a sound of shouting and yelling with a clatterof horses' hoofs outside. Then came the rapid discharge of firearms,and the three upper panes of glass in the window were pierced almostsimultaneously with small round holes in the very centres. Every onebent down over their plates. The next shot might come through thesecond line of window panes, in which case they would have taken effectamong those sitting at the table. Then there was a yell of laughter,and the horses were heard to gallop furiously away.

  "That is only their fun at present," one of the men said. "It will bemore serious later on when they have drunk enough to be savage."

  "I don't see much fun in firing through the windows of a house,"Luscombe said.

  "Oh, that is nothing!" another put in. "I have seen a score ofcow-boys come into a place, and half an hour afterwards there wasn't awindow-pane that hadn't a round hole in its middle. They will shoot thehats off a score of men; that is one of their favourite amusements. Inthe first place it shows their skill with the pistol, and in the nextit scares people pretty nigh to death, and I have seen the cow-boyslaugh until they have nearly tumbled off their horses to see a fellowjump and make a straight line into a house. Nobody minds the cow-boys;they are a good sort. They are reckless enough when they are on aspree, but they don't really mean to do harm. They spend their moneyfreely, and they hate ruffians like those three fellows outside. Ifit wasn't for cow-boys, the bad men, as we call them, would be prettywell masters of Texas. But the cow-boys hunt them down like vermin, andI have known them hang or shoot over a dozen murderers and gamblersin one afternoon. They fight among themselves sometimes pretty hard.Perhaps the men on two ranches will quarrel, and then if it happensthat a party from one ranch meets a party from the other down in atown, there is sure to be trouble. I remember one battle in which therewere over twenty cow-boys killed, besides six or eight citizens whohappened to get in the way of their bullets."

  Just as they had finished the meal a man ran in. "Have y
ou heardthe news? Dutch Sam and his party have broken open the door of theunder-sheriff's house, pulled him out, and put a dozen bullets intohim."

  There was an exclamation of indignation. "There," Hugh said, "if theunder-sheriff had done his duty and called upon every one to help himto capture or shoot these fellows as soon as they came into the townhe wouldn't have lost his life, and I suppose it will have to be doneafter all."

  "The best thing we can do," one of the men said, "is to go roundfrom house to house and agree that every man shall take his rifle andpistol, and take his stand at a window, then we will shoot them down asthey ride past."

  "But that wouldn't be giving them a fair show," another objected.

  "A fair show!" the other repeated scornfully. "Did they give theunder-sheriff a fair show? Do you think they give notice to a manbefore they shoot him, and ask him to draw and be fairly 'heeled'before they draw a trigger? Not a bit of it; and I say we ought toclear them out."

  There was a general expression of approval, and after one of the partyhad opened the door and looked out cautiously to see if the coast wasclear, and reported that none of the desperadoes were in sight, theparty at once scattered. Luscombe and Hugh stopped for half an hourchatting with the landlord. The latter did not believe that the peoplewould attack the ruffians.

  "If the sheriff had been here to take the lead," he said, "they mighthave acted; but as he is away, I don't think it likely that anyone willdraw a bead upon them. You see, no one is sure of anyone else, and heknows that if he were to kill or wound one of them the others wouldboth be upon him. If we had a regular street here with a row of housesrunning along each side, so that a volley could be poured into them, itwould be a different thing; but you see the houses are separated, somestand back from the road, some stand forward; they are all scatteredlike, and I don't expect anyone will begin. They will be in herepresently," he said, "and they will drink my bar pretty well dry, andI don't expect I shall get a dime for the liquor they drink; and thatis not the worst of it, they are like enough to begin popping at thebottles, and smashing more than they drink."

  "Well, it seems to me a disgraceful thing," Hugh said, "that a placewith something like a hundred men in it should be kept down by three."

  "It sounds bad if you put it that way," the landlord agreed; "but youmust remember that each of these three men could hit every pip on acard twenty yards away; they each carry two revolvers, that is to say,they have got twelve men's lives in their belt, and they are so quickwith their weapons that they could fire the twelve shots before anordinary man could get out his revolver and cock it."

  "Why not shut up your place for the night?" Luscombe asked. "Then theycouldn't come in and drink your spirits and wreck your bar."

  "They couldn't, eh? Why, they would blow the door open with theirpistols, and if it was so barred they couldn't get in that way, theywould like enough burn the house about my ears. I have known suchthings done many a time."

  "Well, let us get home, Hugh," Luscombe said. "It seems to me thesooner we are quietly in bed the better. As our room is at the back ofthe house they may fire away as much as they like without a chance ofour being hit."

  Hugh put on his hat, and the two started down the street. They had gonebut a short distance when the sound of a horse's hoofs was heard.

  "Here is one of them!" a voice shouted from an upper window. "Run roundto the back of the house, the door is open there. I have heard two orthree pistol shots, and he will shoot you down to a certainty."

  "Come on, Hugh," Luscombe said.

  "You go round, Luscombe, you are unarmed. I am not going to run awayfrom anyone," Hugh said doggedly. "Go on, man, it is no use yourstaying here, you have no pistol."

  "I sha'n't leave you by yourself," Luscombe said quietly; "besides,here he comes."

  Hugh's hand had already slipped round to his back, and he now had hispistol in his hand in the pocket of his coat. The horseman threw up hisarm as he came along, and Hugh saw the glitter of the moonlight on apistol barrel. Another instant the pistol cracked; but Hugh, the momenthe saw it bear on him, dropped on to one knee, and the ball struck thewall just above his head. He lifted his arm and fired, while two othershots rang out from the window. The man threw up his hands and fellback over the crupper of his horse to the ground, and the well-trainedanimal stopped instantaneously in his gallop, and turning stood stillby his side.

  "Come on, Luscombe," Hugh said; "the sooner we are out of this thebetter."

  Before, however, they had gone twenty yards they heard the sound of twohorses coming up behind them.

  "Let us get round the corner of that house, Luscombe. I don't supposethey will pass those men at the windows; if they do, they will bethinking of their own safety as they gallop past and won't notice us."

  "WHEN THE COWBOY FIRED, HUGH DROPPED ON ONE KNEE."]

  They had scarcely got round the corner when there was a discharge offirearms, and the reports of the rifles were followed by the quicksharp cracks of revolvers. Then a man dashed past them at a gallop. Oneof his arms hung by his side, and the reins were loose on the horse'sneck.

  "I suppose they have killed the other," Hugh said, "and this fellow isevidently hit. Well, let us go on to bed."

  Luscombe did not speak until they reached their room. Hugh struck amatch and lighted a candle.

  "Well, you are a nice lad, Hugh," Luscombe said. "I thought you werealways against quarrels, and wanted nothing but to go on with your workpeaceably, and here you are throwing yourself into this and standingthe chance of being shot, as if you had been fighting ruffians all yourlife."

  "It was he attacked me," Hugh said. "I didn't fire first. I gave himno provocation, and was not going to run away when I was armed. It isyou ought to be blamed, stopping there to be shot at when you had noweapon. I call it the act of a madman. Well, there is nothing more tosay about it, so let us get into bed."