"Shore yo're the owner, an' I'm doin' my best to keep yu that," Jeff said tartly. "Yu gotta remember this, Sam, they may be yore cows, but the boys' lives are their own."
"Yu think that fella was talkin' straight?" Eden demanded.
"yeah, an' so would yu if yu weren't as prejudiced as hell," was the blunt reply. "Anyways, we'll know soon. The Injuns will have heard the cattle an' be wonderin' why we ain't turnin' up "
"Bah! I don't believe--"
The crack of a rifle cut him short and the foreman dashed to the entrance of the gully. The Infant, kneeling behind a ridge, was disgustedly reloading. He had, he claimed, seen a feathered top-knot above a bush some two hundred yards up the trail. Jeff returned to report.-
"That scout'll spill the beans," he said. "They'll be along plenty soon."
"Help me outa this an' reach my gun," the old man ordered. "Boss, yu ain't fit," the foreman protested.
"I can sit behind a rock just as well as in that blasted hell on wheels," Eden snorted. "Gimme a hand."
With Jeff's assistance he climbed out, walked weakly to the line of defence, and ensconced himself behind a boulder. The outfit cheered him lustily. As one of them put it, the Old Man might be short on temper, but he had grit enough for ten. As Jeff turned away, Judy had a last word :
"Tell that ornery man o' mine not to git hisself shot, 'cause I'm dependin' on him," she said.
But Peg-leg never got the message, for when the bearer emerged into the open, it was driven from his mind ; the enemy had grown tired of waiting. Down the trail from the east came a long line of mounted savages, their paint-smeared, copper-coloured bodies gleaming in the bright light. Each warrior carried the circular shield of buffalo hide, a bow, and a sheaf of arrows. Here and there came the flash of a gun-barrel--oldfashioned muzzle-loaders, bartered for skins, or gained in a raid on some solitary settlement. Save for an occasional shrill cry, the advance was made in silence.
"'Paches," the foreman decided. "Comanches would 'a' bin screamin' their dirty throats out." With the quick eye of one accustomed to count cattle he made a calculation. "Over fifty. Gosh! I'm hopin' Rogue don't dawdle any." He surveyed his slim line of defence anxiously. "Lie close, lads," he warned, "an' don't let loose' till I give the word ; we can't afford to miss."
Baudry, rifle in hand, had joined the cattleman. No one, looking at his passive, unconcerned features, would have guessed that all his carefully planned scheme depended upon the defeat of the redskins. With narrowed eyes he watched the far end of the line swing round until, with one screeching yell, the riders flogged their ponies into a dead run and charged full at the mouth of the gully. Like a wave of destruction the savages surged on and it seemed that the handful of whites must be swept away. Silent, grim-faced, with levelled weapons, they waited for the word. It did not come until the foe were less than a hundred paces distant, and then:
"Give 'em hell, boys," the foreman rasped.
The crash of the rifles was followed by exultant shouts from the marksmen as they saw bronze bodies go down before their bullets. The stream of lead disrupted the wave in the centre and the two halves curved left and right, replying to the rifles with a cloud of arrows, some of which sang past the ears ofthe white men. Out on the trail a half-dozen dead or wounded were stretched, and as many horses.
The redskins were soon on the move again. Strung out in a line they headed west and then whirled and raced their ponies across the gully mouth, each horseman, as he arrived opposite the opening, vanishing from sight.
"Where in hell they got to?" the Infant queried.
"Lyin' alongside the hoss, with a foot through the bellyband," Jeff explained, and added grimly, "Down the hosses, son, an' watch out for arrers."
The caution was needed, for from under the necks of the galloping ponies the red riders sent a succession of the deadly shafts, which whistled through the air and searched the cover. The defenders replied with their rifles, but the moving single marks were difficult to hit, and they did not meet with much success. The braves who had successfully crossed the firing-line swung up into their seats again and circled round to repeat the manoeuvre. From the far side of the trail two rifles crashed and the same number of ponies became riderless. The foreman chuckled.
"Jim an' Sandy is gettin' interested," he said.
His satisfaction was short-lived. From a clump of thorn ten paces distant came a gasping gurgle and the rattle of a dropped weapon. At the risk of his life, Jeff sprang to the spot, only to find he could do nothing. Crumpled up on the ground, an arrow through his throat, lay Silent. The foreman straightened the body, placed the hat over the face, and swore savagely. As he turned away, the Infant called:
"Hey, Jeff, pull this damn stick out--it hurts like blazes." An arrow had transfixed the boy's forearm. Snapping the shaft, the foreman drew out the barbed end, inspecting the edges of the wound closely. Then he nodded, and tied it up with a handkerchief.
"Mighta bin wuss," he said. "Keep down ; they've got Silent."
The procession of seemingly masterless mustangs had passed and a respite from the rain of arrows ensued. The Apaches were bunched together farther down the trail. The intermittent bark of two guns from the rear of the attackers indicated that Jim and Sandy were still interested. At the other end of the firing-line Jed was wrinkling his brow.
"Say, Dumpy, how many d'yu figure we've knocked over?" he asked.
"Well, yu ain't got any, but the rest of us has downed 'bout ten," was the answer.
For once his friend ignored an insult. "There's more'n twice that number layin' out there an' some of 'em is movin'," Jed asserted.
"Creased an' tryin' to crawl clear," Dumpy suggested.
"They wouldn't come this way," Jed objected. "No, sir, dropped off'n their broncs an' playin' dead so's they can sneak in an' rush us, that's what. The jigger with the eagle feather in his top-knot is five yards nearer than when I spotted him. I'm savin' him the trouble o' pertendin'."
Raising his rifle he pulled the trigger and they saw the brown body jerk convulsively, struggle, and flop back.
"Who fired?" Jeff asked sharply. "Wanta kill 'em twice over?"
Ere Jed could explain, the supposed corpses did it for him, seven or eight of the nearest scrambling to their feet and sprinting for their lives, zigzagging to escape the bullets the cowboys sent after them. Several were bowled over but the others regained their comrades.
"Good for yu, Jed," Eden called out. "I'm rememberin' it. I reckon they won't try that trick again."
As though they had been awaiting the result of this ruse, the Apaches began to show signs of fresh activity, massing together in readiness for another charge. Two rifles spoke from the opposing side of the trail and a brave toppled to the ,;round, while another jumped clear of his staggering pony.
"Well done, Jim an' Sandy," the foreman cried.
"yu figure it's them?" the cattleman asked.
"I'm damn shore," Jeff said stoutly. "If we git clear o' this it's them yu gotta thank, like it or not."
The savages were hesitating, the attack from the rear seemed to be bothering them. They were now galloping to and Fro, jabbering, gesturing, apparently discussing what action they should take. The matter was to be decided for them. From behind a hillock up the trail a band of more than a dozen riders emerged, spurring their mounts madly, and firing as they came.
At the sight of this reinforcement, the Indians, already discouraged by the resistance of the cowboys and the toll thetwo hidden marksmen were taking, broke and fled. With shouts and wild oaths the new-comers followed, ruthlessly shooting down the runaways. Their leader only did not join in the pursuit. Wheeling his horse, he rode to where the rancher was standing, and got down.
"Well, Eden, I reckon we didn't come any too soon," he said.