Part 3 (2/2)
When she swerved he spurred, then she began to sunfish, throwing one shoulder to the ground, and then the other, while she bucked. At this the youngster lost his nerve and tried to dismount, the same being the shortest way to heaven, for when the mare felt his weight come on one stirrup she made a side spring, leaving him in the air, then bolted, dragging him by the foot while she kicked the meat from his bones. He was surely booked right through to glory but for Balshannon. My boss was a quick shooter and accurate, so that his first bullet caught the mare full between the eyes, and dropped her dead in her tracks. I raised the long yell for my men, as we rushed to get the boy from under her body.
It seemed to me at the time that the elder man never reined, but made a clear spring from his galloping horse to the ground, reaching the mare with a single jump before she had time to drop. Grabbing her head, he swung his full weight, and threw her falling body clear of the boy. When we reached the spot he was kneeling beside him in the sand.
”Stunned,” he said, ”that's all! Seh,” he looked up at the patrone, and I saw the tears were starting from his eyes. ”Seh, you've saved my son's life with that shot, I reckon”--his voice broke with a sob--”you've sure made me yo' friend.”
”Nothing broken, I hope?” said Balshannon.
”No, seh. The stirrup seems to have twisted this foot.”
I sent some men for a ground sheet in which the boy could be carried without pain. Balshannon sent for brandy.
Still kneeling beside his son, the stranger looked up into the patrone's face.
”You are Lord Balshannon?” he asked.
”At your service, my good fellow--well?”
”Do any of yo' greasers speak our language?”
”I fancy not.”
”Then I have to tell you, seh, that I am Captain McCalmont, and my outfit is the Robbers' Roost gang of outlaws.” He was bending down over his son.
”I asked no question, my friend,” said Lord Balshannon, ”we never question a guest.”
”You make me ashamed, seh. I came with a pa.s.sel of lies, to prospect around with a view to doing you dirt.”
Balshannon chuckled, and I saw by the glint in his eye that he was surely enjoying this robber. ”You'll dine with me?” said he.
Captain McCalmont looked up sharply to see what game the patrone was playing.
”You will notice, Captain,” said the boss, ”that my house is like a deadfall trap. Indeed--ah, yes, only one door, you see.”
For answer the robber unbuckled his belt and let it fall to the ground.
”Take my gun,” he said. ”Do you suppose I daren't trust you, seh?”
A servant had brought the brandy, and McCalmont rubbed a little on his son's face, then poured a few drops between his teeth. Presently the lad stirred, moaning a little.
”Let's take him to the house,” said I.
”No, Mistah Chalkeye Davies,” answered the robber, ”not until this gentleman knows some more, a whole lot more. Here, Curly,” he whispered, ”wake up, bo'.”
The lad opened his eyes, clear blue like the sky, and smiled at his father. ”Air you safe, dad?” he whispered.
”Sure safe.”
Curly closed his eyes and lay peaceful.
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