Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 04 - Sudden Outlawed(1934) (23 page)

 
          
He
pointed to a small plateau, the approaching slope of which was, at one spot,
broken away, leaving a vertical wall. At the foot of this were several
boulders. With the girl and the horses sheltered behind the largest of these,
the two men gripped their weapons and waited.

 
          
“They
may get us, boy, but we’ll make ‘em
pay
,” Sudden
grated.

 
          
THE
onslaught did not come at once. The white men saw the two bands meet and
fraternize, with much shouting, gesticulation, and brandishing of weapons.
Probably the position their prey had taken up did not please them; it meant a
frontal attack, and most Indians had a healthy fear of the “guns that fired
forever.” Sandy was counting.

 
          
“Thirty
of ‘em,” he said in a low voice. “If they wait till dark we ain’t got a hope.”

 
          
“They
won’t—Injuns don’t like night-work—too many bad spirits about,” Sudden reminded
him. “They may decide to sit down an’ starve us out.”

 
          
Sandy’s
face lengthened; they had neither food nor water.
Lying
each behind a sheltering rock they awaited the outcome of the argument taking
place amongst the enemy.

 
          
“Odd
that fella Tyson showin’ up,” Sandy remarked. “Must ‘a’
changed
his mind about searchin’ out a settlement.”

 
          
“Mebbe,
but he’d have time to do that an’ then catch us up,” Sudden pointed out. “He
could easy make three miles to our one.”

 
          
“Well,
I ain’t carin’ how it was but I’m hopin’ he’ll play another hand. He busted in
on us just as yu hid the knife in that skunk’s gullet, an’ believe me, he was
welcome. Hell!
they’re
again’.

 
          
The
savages, strung out in a long line, had turned tail and were trotting slowly
away.

 
          
“No
such luck,” Sudden said. “They’re a-comin’. Don’t shoot till yo’re shore an’
aim low; if yu miss the man
yu’ll
get the hoss.”

 
          
He
was right; with a whoop the warriors whirled their ponies and raced at the men
they had hoped to catch unprepared. In the sunlight the bared bodies shone like
polished bronze and the levelled lances were silver-bladed. Feathered
headdresses streamed in the wind as
the ,
galloping
ponies gathered speed. The muffled thunder of their thudding feet mingled with
the threatening cries of the riders. Sudden waited until they were some fifty
paces distant, and then:

 
          
“Let
‘em
have
it,” he said.

 
          
The
reports of the repeating rifles rang out and gaps showed in the advancing line
as men and horses went down. Not waiting to reload, the defenders drew their
pistols—which at the short range were as effective—and continued the fusillade.
The deadly stream of lead was too much for the attackers; the line broke in the
middle, the two halves sweeping round, to retreat at full speed. A grin spread
over Sandy’s perspiring features.

 
          
“Reckon
they won’t
come
that caper again,” he said, busy
recharging his weapons.

 
          
“Funny
they didn’t use their bows.”

 
          
“Want
us alive,” Sudden explained. “I’m bettin’ they didn’t savvy we’d got our guns.”

 
          
“Well,
they know now,” Sandy said, “though there’s some it won’t interest no more.”

 
          
He
nodded grimly at the plain before them, where the bodies of seven men and as
many horses could be seen. Even as they looked, one of the former rose, and
crouching, ran towards his friends. Sandy’s rifle cracked and the runner reeled
and fell.

 
          
“Been
watchin’ that jasper,” the marksman said callously. “Had a notion I on’y got
his bronc.”

 
          
The
incident evoked howls of rage from the Comanches, with threatening gestures,
but the warriors kept their distance. They had been taught a sharp lesson and
had no wish for another. Carol, crouching tiredly behind a boulder, called a
question, and Sandy cursed the country, the Indians, and lastly, himself.

 
          
“Wouldn’t
yu fancy a fella might have brains enough to hop off an’ fill a canteen at the
first stream, huh?” he queried savagely.

 
          
“Why, no, when two minutes’ delay could mean life or death,” his
friend consoled.

 
          
He
went over to the girl and explained the position, concluding with the droll
little smile which, even in the direst danger, he was able to summon. “
yu
see, we left in just a suspicion o’ haste. Still, Sandy
might
have .
.

 
          
She
would not have that. “He had enough to think of, and I ought not to have said
anything. Do you think the redskins will attack again?”

 
          
Sandy’s
voice answered the question. “Hi, Jim, they’re limn’ up; looks like they aim to
have another try.”

 
          
In
fact, the long line was moving forward again but this time it extended farther—yards
separating the riders. Also, they were moving slowly, the
ponies
gradually gathering pace for the final dash. This made the task of the
defenders more difficult, for instead of firing into a mass, they had to place
every shot.

 
          
“No
use waitin’ till they’re near,” Sudden said. “Pick yore man an’ let fly soon as
he’s in range.”

 
          
“I’m
takin’ that jigger on the pinto,” Sandy said, and pulled the trigger. “Cuss the
luck,” he added, as the horse went down, and its rider, after rolling on the
ground, arose and shook a vengeful fist.

 
          
Sudden
toppled a tall warrior from his seat and then an amazing change came over the
scene. From somewhere be-
‘ hind
the attacking line
rang out a volley of rifle-fire which sent half a dozen ponies careering across
the plain masterless. The Comanches, taken utterly by surprise, scattered and
fled, hotly pursued by the newcomers, who wore the garb of white men. Sandy
swung his hat and whooped.

 
          
“It’ll
be the boys, Jim; they’ve found us at last,” he cried. “Why for yu lookin’ as
if yu’d lost a dollar?”

 
          
“If
that’s the outfit, the S E has been takin’ on hands—there was a dozen of ‘em,”
Sudden replied. “Ever hear o’ the steak that
fell
outa
the frying-pan?” Before the boy could reply, the rescuers came racing back, and
their leader, reining in, pushed up the brim of his battered sombrero and
disclosed the malevolent face of Navajo. He grinned evilly as he recognized the
men to whose aid he had come.

 
          
“Well,
well, see who’s here,” he drawled. “Sandy, his sidekick, an’ “—his triumphant
eyes travelled to the girl—“that must be Eden’s gal. Shore was lucky for yu-all
that we took a fancy to see what mischief this red scum was up to.”

 
          
“We’re
obliged to yu,” Sudden said shortly.

 
          
“Oh,
yeah,” the ruffian sneered. “But seein’ we’re Rogue’s men yu’ll have to thank
him in person. I’m bettin’ he’ll be main pleased to see yu.”

 
          
The
covert intimation that they were prisoners was no more than Sudden expected.
For a moment he did not reply; he was studying their new captors. Two of them
he had seen at the outlaw hide-out, though he did not know their names; the
rest were strangers.

 
          
“I
was wantin’
a word with Rogue anyway,” Sudden said.

 
          
“Good,
then we’ll be movin’—I reckon them ‘paints has got their needin’s,” Navajo
returned. His eyes narrowed. “There’s on’y one point: yu boys must be tired;
guess we’ll carry yore guns for yu.”

 
          
Sudden
laughed scornfully. “Yu don’t guess very
good
,” he
retorted. “If yu want our weapons yu’ll have to buy ‘em an’ the price will be
high.
Sabe?”

 
          
Navajo
did. The cowboy had rested his rifle against a rock and now stood with hands
hovering over the butts of his revolvers, his slitted eyes boring into those of
the other. The half-breed hesitated; he had seen those long, nervous fingers at
work before. It was twelve men against two, but … His glance went to the plain,
still dotted with brown bodies. His shoulders shrugged submission.

 
          
“Yu
an’ yore men lead the way—we’ll follow,” Sudden said. “At the first sign of
funny business, yu’ll take a header into hell, Navajo.”

 
          
The
man scowled, but made no reply. He realized that the prisoners would be of no
use dead, and he was not sure of his leader’s attitude towards them; Rogue did
not confide in him.

 
          
So,
when they set out, he and his ruffians went first, followed by Sudden and Sandy
with the girl riding between them. Carol, who had not heard all that passed,
was curious.

 
          
“Who
are these men?” she asked.

 
          
“Some
of Rogue’s Riders an’ they are takin’ us to their chief,” Sudden told her. “We
ain’t out o’ the wood yet.”

 
          
“Rogue?”
she cried in amazement. “But he’s a Texan outlaw. What is he doing so far
north?”

 
          
“He
followed us—it was his gang stampeded the herd.”

 
          
“Well,
at least they are white—not savages.”

 
          
Luckily
she did not see the look her companions exchanged; it would not have added to
her comfort.

 
          
Two
hours of slow but arduous riding, owing to the difficult nature of the trail,
brought them to the outlaws’ camp pitched in a glade on the bank of a stream
and shadowed by tall pines.

 
          
A
small fire, near which lay cooking utensils, a little heap of stores covered by
a slicker, saddles carelessly thrown down, picketed ponies, and the absence of
any shelter, denoted the temporary nature of the halting-place. Around a spread
blanket four men were playing cards, while another paced slowly to and fro. He
looked up as Navajo rode in.

 
          
“Get
any buffalo?” he asked.

 
          
“Never
seed hide
nor
hair o’ one,” the half-breed replied.
“The boys’ll have to pull their belts in tonight. Allasame, we had good
huntin’.”

 
          
Rogue’s
eyes widened when he saw the last three of the party. “How come?” he asked
sharply.

 
          
Sullenly
the man recounted the circumstances. His coup was not being received with the
enthusiasm he had looked for. His chief heard him with an expressionless face
until he came to the weapon incident, and then he said:

 
          
“So
Jim didn’t wanta part with his guns, huh?”

 
          
The
jeer in his voice stung the half-breed. “It would have meant a battle; I reckon
I played it right,” he retorted angrily. “
yu
played it
safe, anyway,” came the sneer. “Awright, I’ll talk to Jim now—alone.”

 
          
“Yu
ain’t overlookin’ what this means, Rogue?” the other urged. “That’s Carol Eden
there, an’ her dad’ll turn over the whole herd to git her back. Why, it’s a pat
hand. But mebbe this is what yu bin plannin’? Mebbe Jim an’ Sandy was fetchin’
her in when the Injuns”

 
          
His
leader’s cold gaze stopped him. “Mebbe yu’ll mind yore own business, Navajo,”
he said. “When I want yore
advice
I’ll shorely ask for
it. Tell Jim I’m waitin’.”