Part 10 (1/2)

”White boy ask Big Foot hard question,” he said, presently.

”But you must know.”

”Big Foot t'ink know, not sure. Big Foot crawl in here out of hot sun.

He half dead. Udder man come, rob place while Big Foot half dead.”

”Well, who do you imagine the other man was? It couldn't have been one of your tribe.”

”I t'ink him half my tribe. I t'ink him 'Merican-Indian, um Hank Stiger.”

”Hank Stiger!” cried Dan. ”Father, did you hear that?”

”What is it, Dan?”

”This Indian was half in a faint when the cabin was robbed, but he thinks the thief was Hank Stiger.”

”That is not improbable, for Stiger was around this vicinity and did not fight with the Comanches. He could easily have come in after we went off on the trail. When was the robbery committed?”

”Him come in at the last sundown,” answered Big Foot, meaning the evening before.

”Alone?”

”Yes.”

”And which way did he go?”

The wounded red man could not answer this query, and he now became so exhausted that the others questioned him no further.

The fire was started up, and a generous meal for all hands was prepared, of which the Indian was given all that was good for him. Then the red man went to sleep, while the Radburys began to mend the battered door and put things into shape generally. Poke Stover went off to the timber, to find out what had become of Ralph's deer, and to see if any of the enemy were still lurking in the vicinity.

It was learned by nightfall that no Indians were around for miles, and this made the Radburys breathe much more easily. Strange to say, Stover had found the deer just where Mr. Radbury had left it, and now brought it in.

”A good shot, lad,” said the old frontiersman to Ralph. ”No one could have made a better.”

”Yes, it was a good shot,” answered the boy. ”I'm afraid I'll not be able to do as well every time.”

”You mustn't expect it. If you could do as well every time you'd be as fine a shot as Davy Crockett himself.”

”They tell me Crockett thinks of coming down to Texas,” put in Mr.

Radbury. ”They say he is tired of things up in Tennessee.”

”Yes, I heard he was coming down,” replied Poke Stover. ”Well, he's a wonderful old fighter, and if we have any trouble with the Mexicans ye can reckon on it as how he'll be to the front from the very start.” How true was the old frontiersman's prediction the future chapters of our tale will show.

They hardly knew what to do with the Indian. Stover wished to turn him out to s.h.i.+ft for himself, but the boys pleaded for the wounded red man, and in the end he was allowed to remain where he was. The Radburys retired to their sleeping-apartment, while Stover made himself comfortable in front of the big open fireplace. All, however, slept, as the saying goes, ”with one eye open.”

The next week was a busy one. It was found that not only had the Indians attacked the cabin, but they had also tried to wreck the cattle shed, and both structures had to be mended and put into order. During the absence of the settlers some of the cattle and the mustangs had strayed away to other ranges, and these had to be rounded up, for in those days men of limited means, like Mr. Radbury, did not allow their live stock to wander far away, to be rounded up once or twice a year.

If they had allowed this, cattle and ponies might have gotten into the Indian country and never been heard of again.