The Boy Ranchers Among the Indians Read online

  I say the boys were on the verge of accepting the noise as that, when its character suddenly changed, and the stillness of the night was fairly shattered by a loud:

  "Hee-haw! Hee-haw! Hee-haw!"

  The reaction was so great that Nort and Dick nearly dropped their guns, and they turned to look one at the other with sheepish grins that would have been visible had the light been stronger. And then, with one voice the brothers exclaimed:

  "Maud!"

  It was one of the army transport mules, an animal that helped carry the camp baggage! She had strayed.

  Again rose the cry, not so weird now that its nature was known.

  "Hee-haw! Hee-haw!"

  And from the camp came a disgusted complaint from some sleepy trooper as he shouted: "The chump who tied that mule so he could wander ought to be made to go get him!"

  There was laughter at this, for many had been awakened by the braying of the animal. And then one of the men in charge of the animals came out and managed to corral the wanderer.

  "Gosh! I'm glad we didn't shoot!" exclaimed Nort, as their tour of duty ended and their relief came.

  "Same here!" added his brother. "How they would have laughed at us if we had plugged old Maud!"

  This was the only disturbing incident of the night, the remainder of which passed quietly.

  With the first streak of dawn the troopers were up, as were the cowboys, for Rolling Stone had said, and Buck Tooth agreed with him, that if the Yaquis did attack it would be at dawn, since they seldom fought after nightfall.

  But no attack came, and breakfast was served, with sentries on the watch to guard against surprise. Some steaming hot coffee, crisp bacon the odor of which was an aroma in the morning air, flapjacks and sour dough bread for those who wanted it, made the meal, which well fortified those who partook of it for the day's events, which were destined to be strenuous.

  Once again the order was:

  "Forward—march!"

  Again they were on the trail of the Yaquis.

  As they advanced the "sign" became more pronounced that the band had passed that way. Whether they had the captives with them could, of course, only be guessed at.

  But the trail had been carefully scanned, and there was no evidence that Rosemary and Floyd had been put out of the way. As far as could be told the captives were still the prisoners of the Indians. And there were no marks to show that any smaller body had branched off from this band of Yaquis that had the unfortunate youth and maiden in charge.

  So it was with the hope of finding their cousins safe, though perhaps in dire distress, that the boy ranchers pressed on with their friends the troopers and the cowboys.

  As the trail became more pronounced, greater precautions were taken against a surprise. And a surprise in the rocky defiles through which they were passing would have been well nigh fatal. So scouts were constantly in the lead, ready at the first suspicious sign to send back word to the main body to be on the alert.

  The morning passed without incident, save for one or two false alarms, and there was a sigh of relief when the midday meal was served without interruption in the shape of hostile bullets. Then, after a brief rest for the horses, the march was again taken up.

  "I wonder when we'll find them?" asked Nort.

  "It's been quite a while now," added Dick.

  "Poor Rosemary," sighed Bud, trying to find an easy position for his wounded hand. "She must have had a tough time."

  "Yet she had a lot of grit to send that message the way she did," commented Nort.

  "Yes, only for that we wouldn't have known about it for a long time—maybe too late," agreed Bud.

  It was but a few minutes after this talk that, suddenly, a shot rang out well up ahead. Instantly every nerve tingled for it might mean the beginning of the last fight. The shot was almost at once followed by others, and then a scout came clattering back.

  "We've found 'em!" he cried. "And it's going to be a dickens of a fight! They're in a regular fort!"

  The firing in front became more brisk. Clearly all the van guard was now engaged, and quick orders were issued to send up a squad or two of the troopers, while the main body prepared for what they hoped would be the last battle.

  Captain Marshall rapidly questioned the messenger who had come back. The man told how he and his companions had been riding along when they were suddenly fired upon. The shot came from a ledge at one side of the defile through which the trail ran, and they had a glimpse of a Yaqui warrior shaking his fist at them in defiance as he disappeared amid the rocks after delivering his warning shot.

  Then the shooting between the outposts of the Indians and the advance guard of the rescue party became general as the scout rode back to report.

  Captain Marshall hurried to the front with his first band of fighters, the cowboys and our youthful heroes being bidden to remain where they were until the officer had made an observation. In a little while Captain Marshall came back.

  "It will be their last stand!" he exclaimed.

  "How so?" asked Snake.

  "Well, they're there with their backs to the wall. They can't get out at the rear and we're here in front to stop them if they come this way. It will be a fight to a finish!"

  And as the boy ranchers wondered at the fate of Rosemary and Floyd there came from the front a burst of firing.

  CHAPTER XXIV

  THE RUSE OF ROSEMARY

  Well it was that a body of fighters with the experience of the United States troopers and the cowboys from Diamond X ranch went up against the Yaquis, and not some brave but rash band of rescuers. The latter would have been defeated almost at once for the Indians had picked out an admirable place in which to make their last stand.

  They had retreated into the mountains, along a trail that only the most hardy could follow. Then, finding, as they doubtless did, that their pursuers were ever at their heels, they hastened to what was, virtually, a natural fortress—a nook among the rocky walls of the defile. From there they shot at the approaching troopers and cowboys.

  "No useless risks!" ordered Captain Marshall, as he and his men came up to the attack.

  The Yaquis had several distinct advantages in their favor. They were up above the rescuers and could fire down on them, while the boy ranchers and their friends had not only to fight but to climb up, and the latter was a handicap.

  Then the Indians had what was almost like a rocky fort to protect them, while those making the attack had to approach pretty much in the open. Of course there were rocks that could be used as cover, but these were so scattered that it prevented the approach of the men in a body. Individuals could creep from rock to rock, and so advance, but there could be no concerted rush against the Yaquis, and that was what was needed to overcome them.

  However the fight was only in its early stages yet, and, like a football game, one could not tell what would happen until the final whistle was blown. Captain Marshall was a veteran fighter and could be depended on. His men realized this, and so did the outfit from Diamond X.

  There was nothing very spectacular about this fight. Little of it could have been seen by an observer, if you except the spurts of smoke from unseen guns and the echoes caused by the shots. For each man, on both sides, was firing from cover. The Yaquis had the advantage that their cover—a big wall of rock—sheltered many of them in an almost straight line, and they could fire in volleys on signal, while the soldiers and cowboys had to fire individually and at odd times, as they made their way from one sheltering stone to another.

  Thus the Yaquis could concentrate their fire on one man if they had a glimpse of some incautiously exposed arm or leg, while no one soldier could hope to inflict much damage on a crowd of Indians behind a thick stone wall.

  But the fight was not so unequal as seemed at first sight. For while the Yaquis were strongly entrenched, they were outnumbered—of that there was little doubt. And they were fighting picked men, who had been in many dangerous skirmishes and fights, whereas the Indians were
at best but a sort of brigand bushwhackers.

  Each side was desperate, perhaps the Indians more so, for they must have realized that they would be given short shrift if any harm now came to Rosemary and Floyd. The soldiers and cowboys would not hesitate to take swift and sure vengeance. So the Indians must fight to the bitter end, selling their lives as dearly as possible.

  "I just wonder if Rosemary and Floyd are up in that nest of beggars?" mused Bud, as he and his cousins were at last allowed to proceed up the defile, toward where the Yaquis were making their last stand. Bud had begged so hard to be allowed to go to the front, to at least help his cousins load their weapons if nothing else, that permission had been granted.

  The boy ranchers were close together now, each sheltered behind a rock, and almost in line with the foremost of the attackers who were under the shadow of the natural fort, behind the wall of which the Yaquis were making their last stand.

  "I hope they are up there," said Nort, answering Bud's question. "If they brought them this far they probably wouldn't do away with them now. They must be up there!"

  "I wish we had them down here," said Dick. "It's going to be hard work to get the imps out of their den!"

  "You supplied two good earfuls that time, kid!" said Rolling Stone. "Ah, you will, will you!" he added quickly, and he fired at an exposed head over the top of the wall that hid the Indians.

  There was a howl of pain mingled with rage, that could be heard above the din of the fighting.

  "You nipped him!" cried Yellin' Kid.

  "I tried to," grimly said Rolling Stone.

  And so the fighting went on, in pot-shot fashion, with occasional volleys from the Yaquis.

  "They're only wasting their lead," spoke Captain Marshall. "But I wonder where they got so many cartridges?"

  "Likely they made another raid," suggested Snake.

  This, later, was found to be the case. A store keeper had been killed and his stock looted, provisions and arms being taken.

  If the boy ranchers and their friends could have looked behind the natural wall of rock, which constituted the fort that proved to be the last stand of the Yaquis, and if they could have looked farther, into a big cave, the mouth of which was concealed from a view below by this same wall, their questions as to Rosemary and Floyd would have been answered.

  For the captives were there. Weary, apprehensive, tired and fairly ill from their hardships, Rosemary and her brother had been thrust into the cavern when the Yaquis reached this vantage place, knowing their pursuers were close behind them.

  "Something's up!" Floyd had said as they were rudely hustled into the hiding place.

  "I hope it's the end," said Rosemary dismally. Poor girl! She was about done up, and she no longer had her weapon as a means of defence. By a ruse it had been taken from her, though she and Floyd fought desperately to retain it. But Mike, as one of his men snatched it away, only laughed at them.

  "The end! What do you mean?" asked Floyd.

  "I mean I think this will be the last fight. You can tell by the way they thrust us in here, and hurried out with their guns, that something unusual is taking place. I believe our rescuers are coming!"

  "That's what we thought when they sent us off in charge of Mike and the smaller gang," observed Floyd.

  "Yes, but this is different!" declared Rosemary. "They can't get out of this place in a hurry, and once our friends, whether soldiers or cowboys from Uncle Henry's ranch, get this far, they'll never give up until they break through the Indians."

  "If they only do!" murmured Floyd. He was cut and bruised from a fight he had with two of the Yaquis, when he endeavored to go to the aid of his sister, as her weapon was wrested from her. Floyd's left arm was badly wrenched, so he could hardly use it.

  And then, after the hurried thrusting into the cave of the captives, had come the first shots of the soldier scouts in response to the fire of the Yaqui sentry.

  "They're here!" cried Floyd, when it became very evident that an attack in force was going on.

  "Oh! I'm glad!" exclaimed Rosemary, and tears of relief came to sooth her ragged nerves.

  They went as close as they dared to the mouth of the cave to look at the backs of the Yaquis who were lined up along the wall firing down on the soldiers and cowboys. No guard was stationed at the entrance to the cavern—none was needed. The rear was a wall of solid rock, as Rosemary and her brother had discovered soon after being rushed into it. In front of the entrance was a rocky platform, and extending along the outer edge of this, in the form of a semicircle, was the defending wall of stone.

  This rocky wall dropped abruptly down into the defile where the cowboys and soldiers were making the attack. It would be almost impossible to descend it. The way up was by a narrow passage which was now choked by rocks the Indians had piled there.

  On either side of the cavern's entrance the rock rose in steep slopes, not altogether impossible of being scaled, but a hindrance to a quick retreat. That is what Captain Marshall meant when he said the Yaquis were practically backed up against a stone wall.

  The firing became sharper and quicker and the reports of the guns of the attackers sounded nearer. They were, in fact, creeping up, taking advantage of every bit of cover.

  There were casualties on both sides, Dick being put out of the game by a bullet through his right arm. Fortunately it only entered the flesh, breaking no bones. But he was ordered to the rear, much to his disgust. Nort and Bud still stuck, Bud helping Nort in loading.

  Perhaps the situation was hardest on Rosemary and Floyd, for they were obliged to remain in the cave, doing nothing, and fearing the worst. If the Indians succeeded in standing off the rescuers, or in killing so many of them that the survivors would not dare rush the place, what would it mean to the captives?

  Rosemary dared not think of it.

  Then, following a period of unusually heavy firing, the plucky girl made up her mind to act.

  "Floyd!" she exclaimed, "I'm desperate! I'm going to do something!

  "Not—you're not going to—"

  Floyd stumbled over expressing the fear that she was going to rush out and throw herself over the rocky wall.

  "It's just a chance," went on Rosemary, "but I'm going to take it. A desperate chance!"

  "But what, Rosemary?"

  "I'm going to play a trick on these Indians! I think I can do it!"

  "A trick?"

  "Yes. As soon as the next period of heavy firing quiets down I'm going to rush out, yelling, and point back to the cave. I want you to do the same."

  "But what good will it do?"

  "It will give the Indians the impression that our friends—or some one—has managed to get up the rocks, and that they are coming from the rear. There may be an entrance into that cave from the back. I don't know, and I don't believe these Indians do. Anyhow if we rush out, all excited, yelling as hard as we can, and pointing to the cave back of us, I think the Yaquis will take the alarm and become so confused that our friends, whoever they are out there, will be able to rush this position."

  As yet, you must understand, Rosemary and her brother were unaware of the identity of the attackers.

  Rosemary started up from where she was sitting in their extemporized and miserable prison cave. It was evidently her intention to put into operation at once her desperate plan.

  "Wait a minute!" exclaimed her brother.

  "What for?" she questioned.

  "I'm not so sure that it is the best thing to do," he answered.

  Floyd was rather less impulsive than his sister—that is on occasions.

  There were times when he could be more hot headed.

  "Well, what else is there to do?" Rosemary asked.

  She was going to be perfectly fair about it, and if Floyd had anything better to offer as a suggestion she would listen to him.

  "Let's think about it a bit longer," he finally said, with a long intaking of breath, which told more plainly than words, how the situation was oppressing him. "I'm sure
it's mighty plucky of you, Rosemary, to lay out such a plan as this, but I don't believe I ought to let you try it. Something might happen."

  "Something is going to happen anyhow," she said, with ominous quiet, and a grim tightness showed in the lines of her mouth. "I believe these Indians have just about reached the end of their rope. They have been very patient with us—that is patient from their standpoint. Now they have met with opposition, and they must know if they are overpowered it will be to our advantage, and that our friends, or whoever is out there firing, will take revenge."

  "That's so," agreed Floyd.

  "Well then, we've just got to do something!" said Rosemary, desperately. "And I'm going to do it."

  Again she started up.

  "Wait a minute!" exclaimed her brother again.

  He seemed to be listening. He leaned forward, and then softly arose from where he was sitting and went forward.

  "What is it?" asked his sister in a low voice.

  "I thought I heard voices—good old United States voices, and not this jargon of Mexican and Spanish," was the reply. "Maybe some of the attackers, whoever they are, have broken through."

  A look of delighted joy came over the face of Rosemary. But a moment later it faded away and she seemed hopeless.

  "It can't be," she said. "There'd be a lot of yelling and shouting if any of those who are attacking the Yaquis had broken through their lines," she went on. "There's no use waiting, Floyd. Let's try my plan!"

  But her brother was not yet convinced.

  "It will be all right if it works," he agreed. "But if it fails, and they only have the laugh on us, we'll be treated so much the worse. I don't mind on my own account—but yours!" and he glanced at his sister.

  "I hadn't thought of that," spoke Rosemary in a low voice. "If it should—fail—why—"

  She did not complete the sentence.

  "It would only make them more angry, I'm afraid," went on Floyd.

  There was silence, for a time, between brother and sister. It was broken only by occasional and distant shouts, punctuated, now and again, by a shot. But the heavy fusillade had subsided for a time.