Part 10 (1/2)
A LONE INDIAN
Less noise than that which issued from the excited throat of Nort would have been sufficient to arouse a larger camp than that of the cowboys on the trail of the Yaquis. Instantly every man in the party, not forgetting Bud who had been sleeping as soundly as any, was on the alert, gun in hand, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the other fist.
”What's up?” snarled Snake. He always did hate to rouse suddenly.
”Look!” cried Nort, pointing to the north, where, now and then, a s.h.i.+mmering light cut the blackness of the sky. ”d.i.c.k says they're shooting stars, but I say Indian signals.”
”They aren't shooting stars, that's sure!” declared Rolling Stone.
”I've slept in the open too often, counting those same shooting stars, to be mistaken. They're signals of some kind!”
”But not Indians' signals,” a.s.serted Yellin' Kid.
”Whose then?” Nort wanted to know, satisfied that he had not awakened the camp in vain.
”They're rockets--or some sort of fire works,” went on d.i.c.k. ”First I thought they were shooting stars, but I can see now that they aren't.
They're sky rockets or Roman candles.”
”That's right,” agreed Snake. ”And no Yaquis will fool with such infernal machines as them.”
”Unless your cousins had some,” suggested Yellin' Kid looking toward Bud and his chums. Some one had thrown an armful of greasewood on the fire, and it blazed up brightly, disclosing the countenances of the Indian trailers.
”What would Rosemary and Floyd be doing with fireworks?” asked Bud.
”I didn't know but what they might be bringing some to Diamond X for a celebration, and the Indians, having laid hands on the rockets as well as on your cousins, might be setting 'em off--setting off the rockets I mean--for a celebration over their victory,” observed Yellin' Kid, somewhat out of breath after this long oration.
”Nonsense!” a.s.serted Snake. ”The Indians wouldn't set off the rockets on purpose. They'd be afraid. Though of course they may have done so by accident.”
”I don't believe Rosemary or Floyd would be bringing us fireworks,”
remarked Bud. ”They're too old for such kid stuff.”
”That's what I thought,” said Snake.
”But who is shooting off the rockets?” asked Nort, as another brilliant burst of fire, not unlike shooting stars, illuminated the dark northern sky.
”Troopers,” said the old cowboy.
”Troopers?” question d.i.c.k.
”Yes. United States cavalry. There are several companies stationed out here, and they may be on a practice march, or having a sham battle, as they sometimes do. These are signals from one post to another.”
”Or maybe a signal about the Indians,” suggested Bud.
”Yes,” agreed Snake. ”It may be the troopers are after the Yaquis. I sure hope so, for the imps are going to be hard enough to nab once they get up in the foothills and mountains. We'll need the help of the troopers for sure!”
”Isn't there some way we could let them know we're coming?” asked d.i.c.k.
”Not very handy,” the cowboy leader answered. ”We haven't any fireworks, and shooting off our guns would only waste good bullets that we may need later. Besides, those shooting stars are farther off than they look. We couldn't make our guns heard, and the flashes would be so low down they couldn't be seen. All we can do is to wait until morning. We're traveling in that direction anyhow, and we may come up with the regulars.”