Part 11 (1/2)
”Like a bag of oats,” added Rolling Stone. ”Looks like he'd fall off any minute.”
”Say!” began Bud eagerly, and then he stopped, as if he had thought better.
”What's the matter?” asked Nort.
”Don't you know somebody who rides just like that?” Bud inquired.
”Some one we all know?”
Nort and d.i.c.k uttered exclamations. Bud's words were all that was needed to set in motion a slumbering train of thought.
”Looks to me like he was hurt,” affirmed Yellin' Kid. ”Can't be one of the Yaquis. They wouldn't be this near. And if they was they'd be too big cowards to ride right for us this way.”
”This isn't any unfriendly Indian!” declared Bud. ”He knows us--and we know him!”
”How come?” demanded Snake, half incredulously.
”Can't you see?” cried Bud. ”It's our own Indian--Buck Tooth!”
”Wow!” shouted Yellin' Kid. ”So it is! But I'd never have known him.
He's all togged out--got his war paint on!”
And, in very truth, Buck Tooth--for he it was--had donned a strange garb. Wearing some of the clothing of civilization, he had ornamented himself with dangling bits of cow-hide, with parts of tails dangling from it. He carried behind him a collection of pans and camp parapha.n.a.lia that rattled and banged about him as he rode forward. He had stuck some feathers in his coa.r.s.e black hair and he was a somewhat laughable mixture of an American and Mexican Indian on the warpath.
”Ugh!” grunted Buck Tooth when he came within speaking distance. Not that he ever spoke much, but this was his greeting.
”What'd you come away from the ranch for?” demanded Bud, for Buck Tooth was a valued hand on a cattle place, and he had been left with the somewhat small force to take charge of Happy Valley when the others had started after the Yaquis. ”What you doing here?” Bud wanted to know.
”Me after 'em too--Yaquis!” grunted the Indian. ”Me catchum an'
shootum same like um shoot me!”
As he spoke, or, rather, grunted this out, he pointed to his left shoulder. It was bound about with b.l.o.o.d.y rags, and in spite of his stoicism the Indian winced as he moved in the saddle.
”Did the Yaquis shoot you?” cried Nort.
”Sure! I come after you--no could stay when fight to be done--and Yaquis what you call plug me! But I plug one, two, three 'fore I quit!”
”Where was this?”
”Was there a fight?”
”Lead us there!”
”When did it happen?”
These were only a few of the questions hurled at Buck Tooth, whose name was obviously well earned once you had looked at him. The old native seemed stunned by the volley of interrogations, and sat stolidly in his saddle while more were shot at him.
”Ugh!” he grunted in answer. ”Fight yistidy--back there,” and he waved a dirty hand in the direction whence he had come.
”Sure they were Yaquis?” asked Snake.
”Sure; Me know--Me Yaqui once!”