Kitabı oku: «The Boy Ranchers on Roaring River: or, Diamond X and the Chinese Smugglers», sayfa 9
CHAPTER XXII
FLYING BULLETS
Finally Nort spoke.
"What about Billee?" he asked.
"Dick's taking care of him as best he can. Poor old geezer – " the Kid bit his lip sharply. "He told me – he was sorry it happened, 'cause now he'll miss the fun."
"How did he look, Kid? I mean – "
"Can't tell, Nort. He's hit pretty bad. Course we don't know for sure – he's pretty old, you know – "
"But tough as a board," Hawkins broke in. "I know his kind. Don't worry boys. I'm sure he'll pull through O. K. Kid, is Bud coming with us?"
"Said he'd be right here. Want to wait he comes, before going closer?"
There was a halt in the determined march toward the ranch house. There seemed to be but little formal plan in the boys' attack; simply to "get those guys an' get 'em good," as the Kid expressed it. But now that the first shock of learning of Billee's wound had passed, all realized how hopeless it would be to simply go up and take Delton. Some sort of a scheme of attack was necessary if anything was to be accomplished.
"Here's Bud now," Hawkins said as the boy rancher rode toward them. There was a sober look on his face.
"How goes it?" the Kid asked, anxiously.
"Pretty fair. He's got a chance, I think. Bleeding's stopped. Dick's got him covered up with a saddle blanket over there a ways. If I get a crack at Delton – "
"How'd it happen, Bud?" asked Hawkins quickly. It was evident that he wanted the boys to control themselves. It was dangerous work they were about to start, and thought must be clear and quick, unimpeded by external circumstance.
"From what I gather from Dick, Billee sneaked up to take a look in one of the windows, and someone snipped him. He just made the shelter of the trees and fell unconscious."
"Well, men, that means we have an additional reason for taking Delton." Mr. Hawkins looked about him to be sure all were listening. In the east the red rim of the morning sun was bulging over the horizon. The time for action had come.
"Nort, come over here a minute, will you? Hold my bridle rein while I see if I've got that paper with me."
The boy, wondering a little, seized the rein while Hawkins went through his pockets. The agent's eyes were riveted on Nort's hand. It was as steady as a rock.
"Never mind – guess I won't need it. All right." Hawkins took the reins from the boy, satisfied by his little ruse that Nort was not affected by his lack of sleep. The business before them called for a firm hand and nerve.
Hawkins was speaking in a low voice.
"Can you men all hear what I'm saying? If not, get closer. Now listen. We've got to figure this thing out, or fail again. And if we don't take Delton this time, I'm afraid we never will. At least that's the way it seems to me. Here's what I thought. We'll ask him to surrender and come with us peaceably. We are bound to do that. They know by this time that we are on their heels, and can cause trouble for them if they attempt an escape now. I believe they'll bide their time, and make a rush for it. That's what we have to be ready for. I'm going up there with a flag of truce, and demand that they give in to the law."
The agent dismounted and, drawing his gun, he tied to the barrel of it a white handkerchief.
"You mean to say you're goin' to walk right up there in broad daylight, after what they did to Billee?" Yellin' Kid asked in a tone of surprise.
"I am. It's my duty. Besides, it's safe enough. No one but a fool would shoot a man bearing a white flag, when they're in Delton's position. It'll go hard enough with them as it is. I have an idea they might agree to come peaceably.
"Well I haven't," the Kid said grimly. "The only way we'll get those skunks out of their hole is to pull them out!"
Hawkins shrugged his shoulders and prepared to set out. They all walked to the edge of the trees, and just as the sun burst forth in all its glory Hawkins started across the open space toward the ranch house.
The boys watched him with anxious eyes. Would he cross safely, or would he be shot down like a dog? There was no sign from the ranch house. All activity had ceased as though the occupants had been frozen into stillness. Nearer and nearer walked the agent, head up, the gun with the handkerchief tied on it held in front of him. Still there was no sign of life inside the house. When the agent reached within ten feet of the place, the boys saw him stop and look closely at the quiet house.
"Hey, you!" he yelled.
"Nervy guy," the Kid commented, "He might easily get creased, standin' there yellin'. Me, I wouldn't put it past that bunch!"
Suddenly a window flew up and a head poked out. It was a stranger, none of the boys ever having seen the fellow before.
"What do you want?" the man demanded in a truculent tone.
"I call upon you to surrender, in the name of the law!" said Hawkins.
"You what?" Without waiting for an answer, the head drew in but the window remained open. In a moment the head reappeared.
"What are you talking about? Why should we surrender?"
"You're under arrest for smuggling, and for assault and battery with intent to kill!"
"You don't say!" The head popped in. Then in a moment —
"Who are you – John Law?"
"I happen to be a federal agent. But I'm not here to give you my history. Do you surrender?" The boys could hear the sting in the agent's words.
"Wait a minute." Once more the head disappeared. This time it stayed back for some minutes. The watching boys were moving uneasily. Finally another came to the window – it was Delton. The agent gave no sign that he knew him.
"Want to speak to me?" asked Delton, an imperious note in his voice.
"Makes no difference who I speak to. I want to know if you'll surrender, and give yourselves over to the law."
"What for?"
"You know well enough! Smuggling, and shooting!"
"It was that bird's own fault that he got shot. What's he want to come sneaking around for? Serves him right! As for smuggling, who said we were smugglers?"
"Never mind about that." The agent was speaking quickly now. "I ask you once more, do you surrender?"
Unwittingly Hawkins lowered his gun on which was the flag of truce. There was a sudden report, and a spurt of dust arose at the agent's feet.
"There's our answer!" Delton yelled, and slammed down the window.
Hawkins wasted no time in returning to the waiting boys.
"That's that," he said grimly, and he removed the handkerchief from his gun. "We got to go after them. Kid, where's Billee Dobb resting?"
"Over there behind that bend. Want me to go over and see how he's makin' out?"
"Yes. In the meantime, where's that meat and bread you brought, Nort? Everybody grab some. Got water over there for Billee, Kid?"
"Yep; Dick's got a canteen full, and he's got Billee's shoulder tied up with his shirt. We can't do anything more for him 'til we get home."
"I hate to think of Billee lying out there hurt," Bud said a trifle sadly. "Think we all better go over and see him?"
"No, I don't," Hawkins said decidedly. "The Kid knows what he's talking about, and if he says we can't do anything more for Billee, there's no use tracking over there and getting him excited. Here, now, everybody get some of the food Nort brought."
"Not so hungry," Bud said, looking longingly toward the window where they had last seen Delton.
"Eat anyway, Bud. You'll need it. And stop worrying about Billee. I'm sure he'll make out all right."
On his way to the injured man the Kid brought some of the bread and meat for Dick. The others, though they protested they weren't hungry, ate as much as Nort carried. All felt better after this refreshment.
Within five minutes the Kid was back.
"Better!" he called as he came up. "Dick says he's getting along O. K. Took some of the food and wanted to know if he could be shifted to where he could see the fireworks. He's quiet now, though. Dick's afraid he'll start a hemorrhage if he moves around much."
"He might, too," Bud agreed. "It's best to keep him as quiet as possible. Well – when do we start?"
Hawkins had been standing by the side of his pony. Now he mounted and faced the house.
"We start now!" he said. "First we have to decide how to close in. I think Nort and I had better come in from the left. Kid, you and Bud get around to the extreme right. In that way we can cover the whole ground. Nort and I will start first, and try to make the door.
"When I shoot, you start, Kid. If we can get into the house, the rest is easy. I know that bunch. Fine when they're on top, but as soon as anyone gets under their guard, they welch. That's the reason I think we can make it. But listen – " and the agent's voice dropped. "This is a mighty risky business. I don't want anyone to get in this against his will. No telling what may happen. Are you boys willing to take a chance?"
Bud was the first to speak.
"Mr. Hawkins," he said, "I think I know the others well enough to speak for them. When we started this thing, we did so because it was our duty, and, I might as well admit it, because of the excitement. Since then something has happened. Billee Dobb was shot. Are you answered?"
"I am," said the agent, with an understanding look. "All set then, boys. Around that way, Bud. Wait for three shots, then close in – fast. Let's go!"
Bud and Yellin' Kid started for the right of the house. The moment had come. Before many more minutes passed, the plan would have either succeeded, or there would be fewer men able to walk around the ranch house. Hawkins and Nort drew their guns, and headed their ponies to the left, throwing them into a gallop. They crouched low in the saddles. What was in their minds as they made ready for that desperate charge? Fear? Hardly that. A turmoil of excitement, probably.
As they dashed out into the open Nort gave a quick glance toward the window. He could see nothing save darkness within. It took but a few seconds for them to reach the side of the house. Hawkins looked over at Nort. The boy nodded. Now!
They raced madly toward the house. Bang! A shot rang out, and a puff of smoke came from one of the windows. Nort's hat went sailing away as though it were on a string. Bang! Nort saw the agent's pony falter, then recover and go dashing on. Now they were almost to the house. It had seemed as though one of them surely would be hit, for they were speeding across perfectly open territory and the occupants of the house were firing rapidly.
But, somehow, luck was with them. They reached the porch safely. And just as Hawkins was about to give the signal for Bud and the Kid to attack, he saw something that stayed his hand.
From the rear of the house a volume of black smoke was pouring.
CHAPTER XXIII
A RING OF FIRE
"Wait, Nort!" Hawkins yelled. "Stick close to the house! Get in close! Not the front – this way! This way!"
He pulled his horse over to one side and held him as near the side wall of the ranch house as he could get. Nort followed him, also hugging the wall. In that way they were protected from the bullets of Delton's men.
"See what happened?" the agent exclaimed. "The place is on fire! Now they've got to get out, and they'll run right into our hands. How I hope the Kid has sense enough to stay away and nab them when they come out!"
The smoke was billowing out in huge clouds, now. It was a frame house, and a firetrap if there ever was one. Now the flames licked through, and the boards started to burn as though they had been soaked with gasoline.
"Can you sneak around the corner and signal to Bud?" suggested Hawkins. "Tell him to stay back. Wonder how in thunder this fire ever got going?"
Nort walked his mount toward the front, still keeping as close to the side of the house as possible. All gun-fire from within the burning place had now ceased, but the boy was taking no chances. There were but two windows on that side of the house, and their rooms were not occupied, so that as long as the ranchers kept hugging the wall they could not be shot at. The firing as they approached had evidently been done from an angle.
Hawkins's horse was prancing wildly about. His eyes were focused upon the tongues of flame that spurted out of the rear of the building.
"They can't stay in there much longer!" Hawkins yelled. "How about their ponies? Know where they keep them?"
"Easy to find out. Let's do it – quick. We ought to get around to where the Kid and Bud are and join forces. Ready?"
Hawkins nodded, and once more the two flashed across the open ground, this time away from the danger zone. But there was no need for such haste, for not a shot followed them.
"The horses!" Nort yelled as he rode up. "Get them, Bud, and Delton won't have a dog's chance!"
"Got 'em!" Bud answered. "Soon as we saw the fire I went to where they had them tethered and led 'em over here. There they are, by that tree. Say, I wonder who started this thing?"
"What makes you think someone started it?" Hawkins asked, looking at him closely.
"Well, I figure it couldn't set itself – and it's not likely an accident would happen."
"Can't tell – like as not a lamp turned over. Wow, look at that roof go! Where can those birds be keeping themselves? What chance have they got now?"
"Probably trying to put it out from inside. Foolish thing to do, but they know as soon as they come out they're finished. I wouldn't deliberately set the place on fire, but it sure solved our problem for us."
As the fire raged more fiercely, the ranchers looked at each other. What had happened to Delton? Could it be that he determined to stick it out until the last moment, and risk a horrible death? Surely he must realize that in peaceful surrender lay his only hope.
Suddenly Bud uttered a cry.
"Here comes someone! Out of the cellar! Look!" Running toward them was a bedraggled figure. Clothes torn, face blackened with smoke, it presented a truly pitiful picture. As it ran it waved its arms wildly. Something in the appearance, or possibly its gesture, caused Bud to exclaim:
"Say, he looks familiar! Kid, Nort – know who that is?"
The boys looked curiously at the wretched man. Now he was almost upon them, and they could see his eyes glaring wildly. He reached them and fell to the ground, exhausted. Bud dismounted quickly and bent over him.
"Get up!" he commanded. "Let's have a look at you!" The man dragged himself to his feet. At a sight of his face, blackened as it was by the smoke, all started back.
"Well, what do you know about that!" the Kid cried. "It's our Mexican cook!"
"What are you doing here?" Nort asked sharply. "You with Delton? Hey? Tell the truth now or I'll hit you!"
"He can't talk!" Bud protested. "Give him a chance. He's all in. Come here, Mex." The boy held out his arm and the Mexican seized it and steadied himself. "Were you with Delton?" Bud asked.
The Mexican shook his head negatively. Then he pointed to the burning building and waved his arms wildly.
"Steady up!" Bud commanded. "Take it easy!"
The man took a deep breath and regained control of himself. But his gestures were still inexplainable. After a minute of vain gesticulating the Kid suddenly exclaimed:
"I think I get it! Mex, listen here: Did you set that fire?"
A vigorous nod of the head. The boys looked at each other in surprise.
"What for?"
The Mexican pointed to himself, then held up two fingers. Then he pointed to the house, and shook his fist.
"Be means his brother!" the Kid said. "What about him, Mex? Did Delton get hold of him?"
Another nod, and more furious gestures.
"I see!" cried the Kid. "He means Delton put his brother up to some dirty work. That right, Mex?"
Eagerly the man signified yes.
"And he did this to get back at him. But where is Delton, Mex? Why doesn't he come out? He'll be burned to death in there!"
The fire had eaten its way through to the front of the house and now the whole upper story was ablaze. It seemed impossible that any living creature could withstand those flames.
"Where's Delton, Mex?" the Kid persisted.
The cook pointed to the house then to the ground.
"The cellar!" Bud cried. "He means they're hiding in the cellar! That's the reason they can stay in there so long. We should have thought of that before."
"They'll soon be out," spoke Hawkins a trifle grimly. "The fire is reaching the lower story. We may expect a rush any minute now."
The men were standing in a group at the edge of the trees. With the house directly in front of them, and the country about perfectly flat, there was no chance of anyone escaping unseen. The flames mounted higher. There was a certain amount of awe in the faces of all as they thought of the tortures a person would endure if he were trapped in that furnace. And for all they knew, men might be burning to death in front of them! It was a harrowing situation. Even though they had shot Billee Dobb, it was an inhuman thing to wish, or even think, of them being caught in a burning building.
If they would only come out, even though they came shooting! Bud saw a huge tongue of flame shoot out of the roof.
"I can't stand this any longer!" he shouted. "Those men must be burning to death! I can't stay here and watch that. I'm going to – "
"But what can you do?" Nort asked. "They want to stay there until they're good and ready to leave. I don't see how we can help them. Certainly I don't want to see anyone burned to death, but I don't think we can do anything, except go in and get them, which we can't do; and if they won't come out, they won't."
"Perhaps they're trapped!"
"You'd know it if they were. They'd yell or something. No matter how much they want to escape, they won't risk getting burned. No man would."
"Then why don't they come out?" Bud persisted.
"Ask me something easier! Maybe the Mex can tell us something about it. Hey, Mex! Why they no come out?"
But this time the cook shrugged his shoulders and spread his hands wide in a gesture expressing ignorance. They could get no information there.
"I'm going to ride over and see!" Bud exclaimed, a ring of determination in his voice.
"Well, if you want to – then I'll go with you. Kind of wonder where they are myself." This from Nort.
They had to force their horses to head toward the fire. The sparks were flying high, and the heat could be plainly felt even at the distance the boys stood. But finally Bud and Nort got the ponies started.
The animals approached the fire with mincing steps. The boys had to force them continually onward, for no beast will go toward fire willingly. A few more steps and Nort said:
"Say, Bud, there's not much point in this. The broncs will never go near enough for us to see anything. What say we get off and walk? I don't think there's much chance of Delton shooting at us. If we really want to find out anything we better get off these horses."
"Guess that's right," agreed Bud as his mount reared high. "Fast, though – snap to it, Nort!"
The boys turned their ponies away from the fire and rode swiftly back. They dismounted and without hesitation, ran again to the burning house. They made for the side, from where the Mexican cook had staggered out.
"There ought to be an entrance to the cellar about here," Bud panted as he ran on. "The Mex said they were down there!"
As they neared the building they saw that this was so. A small door indicated the way to the cellar. The heat was tremendous, and Nort wondered if their errand hadn't been in vain. It didn't seem possible that there living creatures were voluntarily remaining within.
Just as Nort was about to tell Bud his thought, a figure emerged and staggered toward them. It was the man who had protested at Delton's treatment of Bud when the boy had been taken, bound, to this very house. The man was in sad case. His breath was coming in sobs, and he maintained an upright position only by a supreme effort. One side of his face was badly burned.
"Help – " he gasped. "Help – men in there – "
"What is it? Speak quick!" Bud commanded. "Can't they get out? Are they in danger?'
"Trapped! Delton – in there – can't move – hit on the head – "
The next moment the man collapsed at their feet, unconscious.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE RATTLING BUCKBOARD
"Quick, Nort! Pull him back out of the heat and call the others! We've got to save those men!"
"What's the matter?" Dick cried as he came up. "Aren't they out of that furnace yet?"
"No – they're trapped inside! We've got to get them out! Billee Dobb – is – is he dead?"
"No – he's better! He insisted on my coming over when he saw the smoke. Thought I might be needed. No time for talk now – we've got to get busy!"
"It's sure death to enter that!" Hawkins cried as another huge tongue of flame shot heavenward, sending the boys reeling back. "You'll only throw your lives away!"
"I can't help it – we must do something! We can't see them burned to death!"
At that moment Bud felt a tug at his sleeve. He jerked around. At his elbow was the Mexican cook. He motioned to himself, then toward the cellar. Then he leaped forward.
"Follow him!" Bud cried. "He knows how to get in safely!"
With a rush the others were on the heels of the Mexican.
"Someone has got to stay here – help them out if we do get them!" exclaimed Hawkins. "Nort – you and Dick wait!"
Bud was directly behind the Mexican. He saw the man disappear down into the smoke, and taking a full breath, the boy followed. He found himself below ground, and for a moment hesitated to get his bearings. The air was choking, but the heat was not intolerable. The fire had not quite reached the lower floor.
There was no time to be lost, for any minute the building might collapse and bury them. Bud plunged on. He could see faintly now, and he caught a glimpse of a figure in front of him, beckoning.
"Go – ahead!" the boy gasped. "Coming!"
A few steps further and he stumbled against a door. At his side was the Mexican, pointing. Bud pushed frantically, but the door refused to budge. Then he found the reason. It was bolted.
"You – you locked them in! You inhuman – "
He saw the Mexican shrug his shoulders. Even in the burning building the Latin's philosophical mind did not desert him.
Bud struggled with the bolt. It stuck. He strove with all his strength – and the door flew open. The boy stumbled in. His foot struck a body stretched upon the floor.
He reached down and lifted the unconscious man to his shoulder. Behind him he heard a voice. It was that of Yellin' Kid.
"Give him here!" The Kid seized the limp form and passed it to someone at his side. "We'll get 'em out like a bucket-brigade! Pass 'em to me, Bud!"
Through the smoke Bud groped his way. His hand encountered another body. In a moment he lifted the man and passed him to the Kid. His head felt as if it were bursting, but on he struggled, seeking, hands outstretched. He passed another body out to the Kid. Another. Then he heard a moan and turned toward it. A man lay against the wall. His hands moved feebly, and even in the smoke and gloom Bud, could see blood streaming from a cut on his head. The boy bent over and grasped the man's arm. His face was within an inch of the other's.
"Delton!"
The boy's cry was involuntary. Here, under his very hands, was the man who was the cause of their misfortunes – who had committed crimes, no telling how many, and who had perhaps shot one of their comrades. And yet Bud was risking his life to save this creature. Was it fair to ask – ?
A low moan came from the wretched figure. Bud looked for a long moment at the blood-stained face. Then with a sudden heave he lifted him and staggered to the door.
"I'll take him!" he gasped to the Kid, who had reached for the burden. "See if there are any more!"
He heard Yellin' Kid smashing against the walls in an effort to locate other senseless figures. Then he followed Bud.
"Can't find any more. Ask the Mex how many – "
The cook heard the inquiry and flung his arms wide, indicating that the rest had made their escape. The Kid, gasping, plunged out into the open.
As he gulped in great mouthfuls of the welcome fresh air the Kid heard a sudden crash. He turned quickly. A shower of sparks and flames shot into the air, like the eruption of a volcano. There was another roar, and the next moment the building was in ruins. The walls had collapsed, and nothing remained of the structure but a pile of embers. With horror written on his face, the Kid looked wildly about him.
"Bud!" he almost screamed. "Bud – is he in there? Get him out – get him – "
"All right, Kid – all right – " said a voice by his side. It was Bud. The Kid stared at him for a long minute, with a suspicious moisture in his eyes. Then he laid his hand on Bud's shoulder.
"Thought – you were – " he said in a husky voice. And he did a strange yet a boyish thing. He withdrew his hand from Bud's shoulder and planted it hard under the other's ribs.
"Baby!" he exclaimed. "We sure did clean up that place! Threw them out like bags of corn. Anybody hurt bad?"
The two, their faces blackened and with clothes torn, walked toward the group of men gathered about the injured. They saw the forms stretched on the ground, and for a moment feared that their rescue work had been in vain.
The boy ranchers looked at the figure upon the ground. The man groaned and opened his eyes. He stared straight into the eyes of Bud. For a moment hostility glared out at the boy, then Delton half closed his eyes as though he were trying to think. The men gathered about were quiet, watching their prisoner. He wet his lips with his tongue.
"Thanks," he murmured, and held out his hand with a feeble gesture. Bud reached down and grasped it with a smile.
"Don't mention it," the boy said quickly. Then he straightened up and looked over to Mr. Hawkins. "Say, are you thinking the same thing I am?" he asked the agent.
"You mean, where are the Chinks? You bet I'm wondering that! Wait, I believe I can find out. Hey, Mex!" The agent called to the cook who was standing on the edge of the group. "Come here! You know him?"
He pointed to a man seated on the ground, leaning against a tree, with one of his sleeves burned entirely away. The arm was scorched. But with his other hand the man was calmly holding a cigarette.
The Mexican cook looked at him and then nodded briefly.
"He's your brother, isn't he?"
Another careless nod.
"Then you ask him what became of the Chinks!"
"Why don't you ask him yourself?" Dick wanted to know.
"Tried it – won't answer. I think his brother can make him talk."
This proved to be correct. The cook bent over his brother and made a few rapid motions with his fingers. The seated man muttered something. Again the cook's fingers moved. This time his brother answered more at length, and the cook walked in the direction of a small shed, motioning to the others to follow. Nort and Mr. Hawkins trailed along behind. When they reached the shack the cook pointed to it.
"In there?" the agent asked doubtfully. It didn't seen large enough to hold more than two men. It had probably been used to shelter a calf when the place had been run by a farmer.
The Mexican nodded. Hawkins stepped to the small door and jerked it open. A bundled-up mass of humanity almost tumbled into his arms, and when they untangled themselves, there were not two Chinese, but five!
"How in thunderation did you all ever get in there?" Nort inquired wonderingly. "Hey, you! Quiet down! We're not going to hurt you. What do you think this is, a circus? Gee! They were like sardines!"
The Chinese were as excited as rabbits, and chattered away in evident fear. None of them spoke English, and it was some time before they could be made to understand that no harm was intended them.
As the agent returned to the little group of wounded and others, he saw them centered about something and all talking at once. He quickened his pace and in a moment saw the cause of the commotion.
"Billee Dobb!" he exclaimed. "Golly, I'm glad to see you moving again! How did you get over here?"
"Dick and Yellin' Kid carried me," the veteran rancher answered with a smile. "Like a silly baby! They jest lifted me up an' brung me along. Said I had to see the last act, anyway."
"How are you feeling?" Hawkins asked anxiously. "I wanted to go to you soon as I heard about it, but I couldn't, Billee."
"Sure, I know you couldn't. I was all right. Dick stayed by me until I had to threaten him with a six-gun to get him to help you people. Why, I'm feelin' O. K. now. Jest got me in the shoulder. Laid me out for a spell – I ain't as young as I was – why, I remember the time when I got an arrow full in the side – didn't phase me none – went right on and got the guy that shot it – I was a man in them days – I remember – "
"Now, Billee, take it easy," Bud said gently. "Tell us all about it later. You got lots of time. Thirsty?"
"A leettle," the rancher replied with a sigh. Bud leaned over and held his canteen to the other's lips. Billee took a long drink and sighed again. "Tired," he said weakly. "Want to sleep."
He lay back on the blanket. Bud drew the edges over him and motioned the others away. "Let him sleep. Best thing in the world for him. We'll take him back later. I don't want to move him until that wound gets good and quiet."
"What about these others?" Nort inquired. "We want to get them out of the way. There are five men who can't walk. Then there's two more who managed to get out without being burned. They're here too. We've got to get them all back some way. Can't walk them, and we haven't enough horses. What do you think, Mr. Hawkins?"
"Let me see," the agent said. "It is a problem, Nort. Bud, have you a suggestion? The sooner we can get the bunch to town the quicker we'll get something hot to eat. And a little sleep wouldn't harm us any. Think of anything, Bud?"
"Well, if – " The boy stopped and listened intently. In the distance he heard the sounds of horses. Then as they approached nearer the creaking noise of a wagon traveling fast came to him. The next moment all heard a voice yelling:
"Get along there, boys! Watch it – watch it! Pete, you spavin-back cayuse, come out of that! Quit side-steppin'! At a baby – now yore goin'! Out of that hole! Out of it! Pete! Pete! You dog-eared knock-kneed bleary-eyed paint, if you don't swing wide I'll skin you alive! You, Pete!"
