Part 17 (1/2)

CHAPTER XV

WITH THE TROOPERS

With a skill and foresight which never seemed to leave them, the leaders of the rescue expedition had selected the place for the dinner stop with a view to its possible defense in case of emergency. This was part and parcel of life in the west, especially when on an expedition of this character.

In consequence there were several natural places of refuge and hiding, behind which a fight could be conducted. And as soon as it was ascertained that a body of horseman--hostile it seemed they must be--were riding against them, the first thought was how best a fight could be conducted.

”Get in the horses!” commanded Rolling Stone. ”They'll shoot them off first crack out of the box, for they'll know we're done for without our animals.”

As the rescuers had been about to move when the approaching party was discovered, and as some of the cowboys actually had their horses in hand, the securing of the remainder of the steeds was a work of no great moment.

At one edge of the roughly outlined circle in which the noon camp had been pitched, was a group of big rocks, that would make a natural stable and hiding place for the horses. The animals were led into this little corral, and made fast there by lariats. As much of the baggage as possible was piled in with the horses.

This much done by Bud and his friends it was necessary to look to themselves, for the strange hors.e.m.e.n were slowly but surely coming on, and it was beyond question that they had entirely surrounded our heroes. From all points of the compa.s.s, a thin line it is true, but one in which there were no breaks, in came the attackers.

”We've got to form a circle ourselves,” said Snake grimly. ”Get down as low as you can, boys, each one behind a rock, and with one at your back if you can make it. They won't rush us at first. They'll try to pick us off until they find out how many of us there are.”

Quickly the others followed his advice. It was an admirable place to defend, and other things being equal could be held by a small band against a large body. But the factors of food and water would enter into the fight, and though the camp was watered by a little stream, everyone from Diamond X knew the first act of the attackers would be to go higher up and cut off the supply of fluid. In this hot summer season men and beasts could only last a short time without water.

Then, having seen to it that the boy ranchers and the others were in as good a position of defense as possible, Snake Purdee picked out his own little niche and laid out on the ground in front of him his supply of cartridges.

Each man--and by ”man” I include the boy ranchers--had a rifle and a revolver, or, rather, automatic, each weapon using cartridges of the same caliber. Thus only one sort of ammunition had to be packed, and there was greater efficiency afforded.

”Get ready,” called Yellin' Kid in as low a voice as he ever used.

”They've come to a stop for a talk, and they'll begin shooting soon I reckon.”

The feet of the steeds ridden by the advancing hors.e.m.e.n had raised a cloud of dust which hung about them like a hazy curtain, preventing a clear view. In fact, after the first glimpse of the riders they had only been seen as dim figures approaching through this haze of dust.

But now, as they had stopped, as Yellin' Kid had said, the dust began to drift away, and, for the first time our friends had a comparatively clear view of those surrounding them.

It was Bud who first gave the good news. Looking intently at a horseman nearest him, the boy suddenly leaped to his feet and gave a shout that could be none other than joyous in its meaning.

”Get down, you idiot!” cried Snake. ”Do you want a bullet through you?”

But the lad continued to shout and yell, waving his hat, and there was no fusillade of shots from the ring of hors.e.m.e.n. Then, for the first time Bud made himself understandable, for he shouted:

”They aren't Indians! They aren't Indians! They're United States Troopers! Hooray! Now we've got our help!”

”Troopers?” repeated Snake, for a cloud of dust had blown about him, greatly obscuring his vision.

”Troopers--sure!” yelled Nort, now seeing what Bud had beheld.

And a moment later it was clear to all of the surrounded band that the hors.e.m.e.n were, indeed, mounted men of Uncle Sam's cavalry--a company of lancers, a type of the armed force that has gone out of existence now, but one which was very effective in some Indian fights.

A bugle rang out clear and sweet from somewhere in that surrounding circle of troopers, and instantly the outer edges of the ring began closing in. Then our friends, knowing their fright had been without foundation, rose up from their hiding places and, standing together, with Snake at their head as commander, waited for what was to come next.

It was not long in manifesting itself. A trooper, evidently an orderly from a group of officers in front of our friends, rode up, waved his hand in place of a salute when he saw he had to deal with one of his own kind, and asked: