Part 31 (1/2)

”The leaders ought to act in concert, Dan. If they don't, their soldiers are licked afore they go into battle,” remarked the old frontiersman, sagely. ”What Texas needs most of all is one first-cla.s.s leader, whom all obey.” And in this speech Stover came very near to telling the exact truth.

The meal finished, they were soon in the saddle again, and less than an hour later they came upon the trail leading directly into San Antonio.

There was a hill of rocks on one side and a belt of timber on the other, with here and there a water-course to be crossed.

So far, nothing had been seen of any game but a deer that was too far away to be brought down, and a few hares, which neither took the trouble to shoot. But now Poke Stover called attention to a flock of wild turkeys resting along the rocks not a hundred yards distant.

”A fine shot, Dan!” he whispered. ”We can make a good trade with 'em, down in Bexar.”

”That's so,” answered the boy. ”I'm ready to shoot when you are.”

”Let us go into the timber, and come up in front of 'em,” suggested the old frontiersman. ”The rocks kind o' hide 'em from this p'int.”

They dismounted and tied their mustangs to a tree. Then, with guns ready for use, they crept off in a semicircle, coming up to within sixty yards of the turkeys before they were discovered.

”Fire!” cried Stover, and bang! bang! went the two guns, one directly after the other. They had loaded with large shot, and five turkeys fell, two killed outright and the others badly wounded. Rus.h.i.+ng in, Stover quickly caught the wounded ones and wrung their necks.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”'THAT'S WHAT I CALL A PRETTY GOOD HAUL!' CRIED DAN, ENTHUSIASTICALLY.”]

”That's what I call a pretty good haul,” cried Dan, enthusiastically.

”It's not bad, lad, although I've seen better. I wish I could have gotten a second shot at 'em. We might have----” The old frontiersman broke off short. ”What's that?”

”It's a horse's hoofs on the trail,” answered Dan. ”Somebody is coming this way.”

He ran out of the bushes into which the wild turkeys had fallen, and gazed along the road. Just above was a curve, and around this came sweeping something which caused his heart to bound with delight.

It was the white mustang.

”By hookey!” came from Poke Stover. ”It's him, eh, Dan?”

”Yes. Oh, if only I had my la.s.so!” For that article was attached to the saddle of the mustang in the timber. Dan was on the point of crossing the trail when Stover caught him by the arm.

”Don't scare the pony----” began the frontiersman, but he was too late.

The white mustang had caught sight of Dan and he came to a halt instantly. Then he reared and plunged and swept by, and the last they saw of him, he was running toward San Antonio at the top of his speed.

”We've seen him,--and that's all the good it will do us,” remarked Poke Stover, as Dan gazed blankly up the road, and then at his companion.

”Can't we catch him, Poke? Oh, we must!”

”Might as well try to catch a streak o' greased lightning, lad.”

”I don't know about that. He looked tired, as if he had been running a long while.”

”You are sure on that? I didn't git no fair view of the critter.”

”Yes, he was covered with sweat. Perhaps somebody else has been following him.”

”Well, it won't do no harm to go after him,--seein' as how he is steerin' in our direction,” said the old frontiersman, and, picking up the dead turkeys, they ran for their mustangs and leaped into the saddles.