It was evident from these words that each of the speakers was satisfied as to the ident.i.ty of the one that had fired the well-nigh fatal shot.

Gleeson named him immediately.

"I warned the cap, when he hired that Comanche, that we would have trouble with him. We left Texas a little short-handed, but we could have got through well enough without him. Howsumever, Shackaye, as you remember, rode into camp one day and asked the cap to give him a job, and the cap done it."

"I recall your words about him, and I thought they were not justified; but what made you so suspicious?"

The Texan uttered an impatient exclamation.

"In the first place he's an Injin, and _that_ ought to be enough. I never seen one of his race that it's safe to trust; they'll shoot the man that gives them a cup of water or a piece of bread. Talk about Injin grat.i.tude! There aint any such thing."

"What did my uncle say to your sentiments?"

"He laughed in that quiet way of his, and said maybe as I was right, but he didn't see what we had to fear from one Injin that was in camp with us; he reckoned we could pull his teeth before he could bite enough to hurt."

"I am sure he will think differently when he hears my story."

"Don't tell him or anyone else a word about it. Promise me that."

"And why?" asked the surprised Avon.

"Well," was the hesitating answer, "I've several reasons: one of them is that though you and me have fixed on the Comanche as the chap, we aint sure of it. It looks very much that way, but it may be someone else after all. We mustn't make any mistake, and above all, don't let Shackaye think we suspect him."

The youth gave his promise, though in his mind there was no doubt of the ident.i.ty of the man that had come so near shooting him from his mustang.

He saw the wisdom of not allowing Shackaye to know that he was suspected.

The cattle having been located, the couple had little to do but to hold them where they were. This proved less difficult than at other times.

They had the help of Burrell, or Old Bronze, in the work, and the three did little but ride back and forth, timing their course in such a way that they skirted the large body of animals, often meeting and exchanging greetings, but more often pa.s.sing without seeming to see each other.

Sometimes one of the cattle would show a determination to dash away from the main body, but before he went far, a horseman was in front of him and he was forced back. The night was too chilly for sleeping, else one or more of the herders would have stretched out on the damp earth, with his bridle reins so interlocked with his arm that his horse could not wander off, or he would have fallen asleep in his saddle. When worn out with fatigue and loss of slumber, a cowboy often rides for miles totally unconscious of what is going on around him.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

A MISHAP.

The weather cleared toward morning, and the sun rose without a cloud obscuring its face. The halt had been made along a small tributary of the Wichita, whose upper waters flow through the country of the Kiowas, Comanches, and Apaches, that of the Cheyennes and Arapahoes lying further north.

The scene was inspiriting. The cowboys gathered around the wagon for breakfast, the cook having been thoughtful enough to protect the wood against the rain. The animals were busy cropping the gra.s.s, which was rich and succulent on all sides of the Trail, the hands for the time being bestowing only general attention on them, but everyone was ready to leap into the saddle and dash off at a instant's call.

Captain Shirril discovered that a bunch of thirty cattle were missing, and believed they had joined his friend's herd a mile to the southward, from which it would be necessary to separate or cut them out.

Antonio Nunez, the Mexican, and Shackaye, the Comanche (the latter of whom showed no evidence of having been engaged in questionable business during the preceding night), were similarly attired, though it would be supposed that the full-blooded Indian would have dressed in accordance with the fashion of his people. He claimed, however, to have been engaged in the cattle business before, and, when he first presented himself in camp on his wiry pony, he wore the broad-brimmed sombrero, baggy leather breeches, and red sash around his waist, which were the most noticeable features of the Mexican's make-up.

The Comanche, however, used no spurs, his feet being shod with moccasins, and, instead of the revolver worn by the Mexicans, he carried a knife thrust in at his girdle and a breech-loading rifle, which was not repeating.

The cowboys sported the same broad-brimmed hats, which in some instances cost more than all the rest of their suits, the leggings, flannel overshirts, and gaudy handkerchiefs tied loosely around their necks.

All, as a matter of course, were expert hors.e.m.e.n, and were furnished with two or three excellent animals apiece, for their business is as trying upon them as upon the men.

The meal was quickly finished, and Captain Shirril, with two of his hands, set out for the camp to the rear, where he hoped to find the missing cattle. Since there was a possibility that they had strayed in other directions, three more men were despatched to make search.

It was rather curious that the captain selected as his a.s.sistants his nephew Avon and the young Comanche Shackaye. When they were riding off, Gleeson, the Texan, looked at the youth and winked, but said nothing.

Half-way to the camp, the three galloped over a ridge or swell in the prairie, when to their surprise they came upon the missing animals browsing just beyond.

"That's lucky!" said the captain; "the job is going to be easier than I supposed. Avon, you and Shackaye ride to the left, while I will turn to the right. Look out for that ugly steer; we have had trouble with him before, and I believe he is in a bad mood now."

The Indian grinned on hearing these words and said:

"Me no 'fraid; me rope him if he fight."

And to show his contempt for the huge brute, he drove his mustang straight for him as he was grazing on the further side of the group. The steer raised his head, with the gra.s.s hanging from his jaws, and looked quietly at the approaching Indian. He seemed to be in doubt as to his purpose, until Shackaye, when almost upon him, swung his arm above his head and uttered a tantalizing shout, as if he wished to enrage the beast.

If such was his purpose he succeeded, for with a muttered bellow, the steer dropped his head and charged fiercely at the pony, which, to save himself, was obliged to wheel with such suddenness that the young Comanche, despite his superb horsemanship, was thrown violently to the ground directly in front of the animal.

Occasionally a cowboy is caught in the perilous situation of the young Comanche. His horse may stumble, his la.s.so (always called a "rope"

except in California) become entangled, or he may be thrown to the ground in the path of the charging steer or bull, which is sure to be upon him before he can regain his feet and steed.

In such emergencies there is but the single thing to do: that is, to shoot the animal, and to hesitate to do so means certain death to the endangered cattleman.

Two causes prevented Shackaye from appealing to this last and only recourse. His fall was so violent that he was slightly dazed, though he did not lose sight of his peril, but he made the mistake of attempting to climb to his feet and darting aside, when the time at command was insufficient to take him beyond reach of the savage steer.

His rifle remained in place on the front of his saddle, so that it was beyond his reach, while, as I have stated elsewhere, he carried no pistol. He was, therefore, without firearms.

Captain Shirril was fully two hundred yards away, but he saw the imminence of the danger, and, bringing his gun to a level, fired at the steer, calling at the same moment to his nephew to shoot it. The captain's bullet struck the beast, but without producing any effect, unless to add to his rage.

It took Avon but a second or two to raise his Winchester to his shoulder and aim at the animal, which was near at hand.

"If I was sure that was you last night," he thought, "I would let the steer do his duty, but maybe you are innocent, so here goes!"

It was no special feat of marksmanship to send a rifle-ball through the heart of the charging brute, but he was so close to the Comanche when he received the shot that he would have tumbled over him, had not Shackaye managed to roll aside in time to avoid the huge ma.s.s, which ploughed along the ground, as if fired from an enormous gun.

The occurrence alarmed the other cattle, and they started off at such a pace that the instant attention of the captain and his nephew was required. Paying no further heed to the unhorsed Shackaye, Avon sent his mustang after the flying animals, the captain doing the same from his direction.

The hardest of riding was required to round them up and turn their faces toward the main herd, and it was not long before Avon found himself pitted against a steer fully as ugly as that which he had been obliged to shoot a few minutes before. All the others were finally forced into the right course, and this obstinate animal was disposed to join them, but after trotting for a short distance, he seemed to tire of being good, and, wheeling about, charged like a runaway engine at the youthful horseman who was harrying him so hard.

In such crises a great deal depends on the intelligence of the horse.

Thunderbolt sprang aside with the nimbleness of a monkey, and Avon received just enough warning to hold his place in the saddle. The steer attempted to keep up his pursuit, turning with remarkable quickness for such a large animal, but the dexterity of Thunderbolt was still greater, and he easily evaded the sharp horns which came near him more than once.

Finally, as if he saw the uselessness of his pursuit, the steer headed in the opposite direction from that which he ought to have taken, and sped away with all the fleetness he possessed.

Avon saw his uncle galloping to his help.

"Leave him to me!" called the nephew; "I'll conquer him."

Captain Shirril drew up, and, from his perch in the saddle, watched the result of the curious contest.