Part 8 (1/2)
”We are all right, father,” answered both lads.
”Thank G.o.d for that!” murmured the parent, reverently. ”But, see, your neck is bleeding,” he added, to Dan.
”It's only a scratch.”
”Good. Poke, I see you managed to get to them. You are a brave fellow, if ever there was one.”
”We've had a hot time of it, father,” put in Ralph. ”If it hadn't been for Mr. Stover, I don't know what we would have done.”
”Ralph is right,” a.s.sented Dan. ”If he hadn't put out the fire we would have been burnt out, and the cabin would have gone up in smoke in the bargain.”
”I shall not forget your kindness, Poke,” said Mr. Radbury, taking the frontiersman's h.o.r.n.y hand. ”But, as you are all right, I fancy I had better join the others, and follow the miscreants.”
”And I'll go with ye,” said Poke Stover, who disliked too much praise, although not averse to some laudatory speech. ”We ought to round up every mother's son of 'em while we are about it.”
”Shall we go too?” asked Dan. ”I'd rather do that than remain behind,”
he continued.
”You may come, if you'll promise to keep to the rear,” answered the father. ”Remember, the Indians are wily, and may set a trap for us.”
All went outside, crawling through the battered doorway, and were soon mounted on several extra mustangs Mr. Radbury had brought along. The planter informed them that he had brought with him twenty-four men, including Jim Bowie, who had happened to be in Gonzales at the time.
Soon the party of four were riding hard to catch up with the other whites, who were following the trail of the Comanches along the bank of the upper Guadalupe River.
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”FOLLOWING THE TRAIL OF THE COMANCHES.”]
CHAPTER VIII.
AN UNSUCCESSFUL PURSUIT.
After leaving the vicinity of the cabin, the Comanches struck a trail leading through a cedar brake over the hill back of the cattle shed.
Here they came together, and without halting swept straight along the Guadalupe River, as previously mentioned. They felt that the whites would follow them, and their one hope of safety lay in gaining the wilderness about San Saba Hill, sixty to seventy miles north of San Antonio.
The leaders.h.i.+p of the whites naturally fell to Colonel Jim Bowie, for he had been in numerous Indian quarrels, and was a good man on the trail. It may be here mentioned that Bowie, who was afterward to become so well known in Texas, was one of two brothers who came to that territory from Louisiana, after having been engaged for years in the slave-trade. The man was as bold as he was daring, and it was said that he knew not the meaning of the word fear.
The Indians were all on horseback, and as their steeds had had a long rest they were fresh, and made rapid progress. On the other hand, the mustangs of the whites were tired from the hard night's ride from Gonzales and vicinity, and they could not keep up the pace, although urged to do their best by their riders. All of the whites bewailed the fate of Whippler, and swore to be revenged if given ”the ghost of a chance.”
When Amos Radbury, Stover, and the two boys gained the other whites, they found Bowie's party fording one of the creeks running into the Guadalupe. The Indians had pa.s.sed there about ten minutes before, and it was to be seen that they had not even stopped to water their horses.
All of the settlers' horses were thirsty, and some refused to budge from the stream until they had slaked their thirst.
”Do you think they will be caught?” asked Dan, as he swept along beside his father.
”They will not be caught if they can help it,” replied Mr. Radbury, with a faint smile. ”They know it will go hard with them if we do come up with them.”
”What of the wounded?” asked Ralph. But his father merely shrugged his shoulders.
”They'll crawl off in the bushes, and either git away, or die,”
answered Poke Stover, philosophically. To him the life of an Indian was of no account. He had never considered that an Indian might be educated into becoming a useful member of the great human family.