Part 9 (1/2)

”I don't know anything about them there reflex actions,” observed Yellin' Kid, ”but I do know that this is no fis.h.i.+n' party! We've got hard work cut out for us if we're to trail them sneakin' Yaquis.”

”You delivered an earful that time, my friend,” stated Rolling Stone, with a grim smile. ”I've had dealings with these imps and while they don't compare in bloodthirstiness with the worst of our former American Indians, they're bad enough. I know!”

He seemed to gaze afar, into the past, and the boy ranchers hoped he would some day tell the details of how he had come so to hate the Yaquis.

The trailing party, started into action by the receipt of the message so daringly written by Rosemary, consisted of fifteen cowboys, and in these I include our three heroes, who certainly are ent.i.tled to be cla.s.sed with the others. For though not as old, they had had considerable experience now, and were able to rough it with the most veteran cow puncher.

In addition to Bud, Nort and d.i.c.k, there was Snake Purdee, who was in virtual charge, according to instructions from Bud's father. Yellin'

Kid, Rolling Stone and several other cowboys made up the remainder of the party, which was well armed, and provisioned as fully as was practical. They expected to replenish their packs of food at various places, and if they pa.s.sed beyond the pale of civilization they would live off the land, or do their best in this respect.

”It can't be any worse for us than for those Indians,” Snake Purdee had said, when the talk was on the food question.

”Yes, but a white man can't live on what those heathen eat,” remarked Rolling Stone. ”They'll eat lizards and snakes, and think they're stopping at one of the best hotels, with bath an' everything. Or they can go without eating longer than any human beings I ever saw. In fact I don't believe they are human. They're imps, that's what they are--plain imps! If I had my way I'd--”

Rolling Stone gave a sudden jump, and a grunt, the reason for this action being that Snake Purdee had urged his steed to a place next to that of the speaker and had given him a jolting punch in the ribs.

”Wha-wha--” stuttered Rolling Stone.

In answer Snake pointed toward Bud and his cousins, on whose faces were looks of grave alarm as the new acquisition to their forces spoke thus of the fierce character of the Yaquis.

”Don't get 'em to worrying too much about that there young lady an'

gent what these Indians have carried off,” whispered Snake, and it was well it was he who spoke, and not Yellin' Kid, or our heroes would have sensed what was up. ”Keep it dark,” advised Snake. ”Keep it dark!

Don't take the heart out of 'em!”

”Oh!” exclaimed Rolling Stone. ”I see!”

”Pity you wouldn't,” snapped out the cowboy leader. ”You got to have a little consideration for the young fellers!”

Rolling Stone nodded, and then, as if to make amends for what he had said, he added:

”Course I'm not saying _all_ Yaquis are alike. There may be some half way, or maybe a quarter way decent. And maybe they've captured this young lady and gentleman just for ransom. In that case they'll take good care of 'em.”

”Do you think so?” asked Bud, for, truth to tell, he had been greatly alarmed as he thought of the possible fate of Rosemary and her brother in the hands of the unprincipled Yaquis.

”Oh, sure!” a.s.serted Rolling Stone, with more conviction than he felt.

”They're after money, these Indians are, or what money will buy. And they like good U.S. money instead of Mex. dollars which are worth about fourteen and a half cents a pound just now. So it's to their interests to treat their captives well, so they'll bring a good price in the market.”

”Good price?” exclaimed Nort. ”Do they put them up at auction?”

”No, I didn't mean just that,” Rolling Stone hastened to add. ”I mean if they ask a ransom they're bound to keep the prisoners in good shape for if they don't produce 'em in that same fas.h.i.+on they're likely to slip up on the reward.”

”Then they won't harm Rosemary or Floyd?” asked d.i.c.k, whose vivid imagination had pictured his cousins as being subject to the tortures of the burning stake.

”Well, of course they won't have feather beds to sleep on,” spoke Rolling Stone slowly, ”but I take it your cousins are used to roughing it, and it will be no worse than a scouting trip for them.”

”Yes, I s'pose Floyd is used to camping out,” admitted Bud. ”But as for Rosemary--”

”Don't worry, son,” advised Snake. ”Rosemary is a western girl and you know what your sister is.”