For the Liberty of Texas
by Edward Stratemeyer · English · Gutenberg #22186 · 358,939 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: For the Liberty of Texas
Author: Edward Stratemeyer
Illustrator: Louis Meynell
Release date: July 31, 2007 [eBook #22186]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22186
Credits: Produced by David Edwards and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from scans of public domain material produced by
Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.)
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FOR THE LIBERTY OF TEXAS ***
Produced by David Edwards and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was
produced from scans of public domain material produced by
Microsoft for their Live Search Books site.)
EDWARD STRATEMEYER'S BOOKS
Old Glory Series
_Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume_ $1.25.
UNDER DEWEY AT MANILA. UNDER OTIS IN THE PHILIPPINES.
A YOUNG VOLUNTEER IN CUBA. THE CAMPAIGN OF THE JUNGLE.
FIGHTING IN CUBAN WATERS. UNDER MacARTHUR IN LUZON.
Soldiers of Fortune Series
_Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume_ $1.25.
ON TO PEKIN. AT THE FALL OF PORT ARTHUR.
UNDER THE MIKADO'S FLAG. WITH TOGO FOR JAPAN.
Colonial Series
_Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume_ $1.25.
WITH WASHINGTON IN THE WEST. ON THE TRAIL OF PONTIAC.
MARCHING ON NIAGARA. THE FORT IN THE WILDERNESS.
AT THE FALL OF MONTREAL. TRAIL AND TRADING POST.
Mexican War Series
_Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume_ $1.25.
FOR THE LIBERTY OF TEXAS. UNDER SCOTT IN MEXICO.
WITH TAYLOR ON THE RIO GRANDE.
Pan-American Series
_Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume_ $1.25.
LOST ON THE ORINOCO. YOUNG EXPLORERS OF THE AMAZON.
THE YOUNG VOLCANO EXPLORERS. TREASURE SEEKERS OF THE ANDES.
YOUNG EXPLORERS OF THE ISTHMUS. CHASED ACROSS THE PAMPAS.
Dave Porter Series
_Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume_ $1.25.
DAVE PORTER AT OAK HALL. DAVE PORTER IN THE FAR NORTH.
DAVE PORTER IN THE SOUTH SEAS. DAVE PORTER AND HIS CLASSMATES.
DAVE PORTER'S RETURN TO SCHOOL. DAVE PORTER AT STAR RANCH.
DAVE PORTER AND HIS RIVALS.
Lakeport Series
_Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume_ $1.25.
THE GUN CLUB BOYS OF LAKEPORT. THE FOOT BALL BOYS OF LAKEPORT.
THE BASEBALL BOYS OF LAKEPORT. THE AUTOMOBILE BOYS OF LAKEPORT.
THE BOAT CLUB BOYS OF LAKEPORT.
American Boys' Biographical Series
_Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume_ $1.25.
AMERICAN BOYS' LIFE OF WILLIAM McKINLEY.
AMERICAN BOYS' LIFE OF THEODORE ROOSEVELT.
Stratemeyer Popular Series
_Fifteen Volumes. Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume_ $0.75.
* * * * *
DEFENDING HIS FLAG. _Price_ $1.50.
[Illustration: "'REMEMBER THE ALAMO! DOWN WITH SANTA ANNA!'"]
Mexican War Series
FOR THE LIBERTY OF TEXAS
BY
EDWARD STRATEMEYER
Author of "With Taylor on the Rio Grande," "Under Scott in Mexico,"
"Dave Porter Series," "Old Glory Series," "Pan-American Series,"
"Lakeport Series," etc.
_ILLUSTRATED BY LOUIS MEYNELLE_
BOSTON
LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO.
Copyright, 1900, by Dana Estes & Company
Copyright, 1909, by Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co.
_All Rights Reserved_
For the Liberty of Texas
SET UP AND ELECTROTYPED BY COLONIAL PRESS, BOSTON
Printed by BERWICK & SMITH CO., NORWOOD
PREFACE.
"For the Liberty of Texas" is a tale complete in itself, but it forms
the first of a line of three volumes to be known under the general
title of the "Mexican War Series."
Primarily the struggle of the Texans for freedom did not form a part of
our war with Mexico, yet this struggle led up directly to the greater
war to follow, and it is probably a fact that, had the people of Texas
not at first accomplished their freedom, there would have been no war
between the two larger republics.
The history of Texas and her struggle for liberty is unlike that of any
other State in our Union, and it will be found to read more like a
romance than a detail of facts. Here was a territory, immense in size,
that was little better than a wilderness, a territory gradually
becoming settled by Americans, Mexicans, Spaniards, French, and
pioneers of other nations, a territory which was the home of the
bloodthirsty Comanche and other Indians, and which was overrun with
deer, buffalo, and the wild mustang, and which was, at times, the
gathering ground for the most noted desperadoes of the southwest.
This territory formed, with Coahuila, one of the States of Mexico, but
the government was a government in name only, and the people of Texas
felt that it was absolutely necessary that they withdraw from the
Mexican Confederation, in order to protect themselves, their property,
and their individual rights, for, with the scheming Mexicans on one
side of them, and the murderous Indians on the other, nothing was safe
from molestation.
The contest was fought largely by men who knew little or nothing of the
art of war, but men whose courage was superb. At first only defeat
stared the intrepid band in the face, and hundreds were lost at the
Alamo, at the massacre of Goliad, and elsewhere, but then there came
upon the scene the figure of the dashing and daring General Sam
Houston, and under his magnetic leadership the army of the Mexican
general, Santa Anna, was routed utterly, and the liberty of Texas was
secured beyond further dispute.
EDWARD STRATEMEYER.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. THE HOME ON THE FRONTIER 11
II. THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE DEER 19
III. A QUARREL AND ITS RESULT 28
IV. SOMETHING ABOUT THE INDIANS IN TEXAS 36
V. THE ATTACK ON THE RANCH 44
VI. POKE STOVER TO THE FRONT 53
VII. IN AND OUT OF THE BURNING CABIN 62
VIII. AN UNSUCCESSFUL PURSUIT 71
IX. BIG FOOT AND THE MISSING PAPERS 81
X. THE SITUATION IN MEXICO 89
XI. THE OPENING OF THE WAR 97
XII. THE MARCH ON SAN ANTONIO 105
XIII. A FIGHT WITH A PUMA 113
XIV. THE BATTLE OF CONCEPCION 121
XV. DAN TURNS THE TABLES 129
XVI. AFTER A MISSING MUSTANG 137
XVII. THE GRASS FIGHT, AND WHAT FOLLOWED 145
XVIII. DAN COMES TO GRIEF 154
XIX. THE CAVE IN THE RAVINE 161
XX. FLIGHT AND PURSUIT 169
XXI. WHAT HAPPENED TO RALPH 177
XXII. THE ATTACK ON SAN ANTONIO 185
XXIII. THE SURRENDER OF THE CITY 194
XXIV. A MIDNIGHT DISCOVERY 204
XXV. MARCH OF SANTA ANNA INTO TEXAS 212
XXVI. WILD TURKEYS AND ANOTHER TRAIL 223
XXVII. THE MEXICAN ARMY AT SAN ANTONIO 233
XXVIII. WITHIN THE WALLS OF THE MISSION 242
XXIX. THE FALL OF THE ALAMO 250
XXX. ESCAPING TO THE RIVER 257
XXXI. SOMETHING ABOUT GENERAL SAM HOUSTON 265
XXXII. IN WHICH THE TEXAN ARMY FALLS BACK 274
XXXIII. THE VICTORY OF SAN JACINTO 283
XXXIV. BACK TO THE RANCH--CONCLUSION 293
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
"'REMEMBER THE ALAMO! DOWN WITH SANTA ANNA!'" _FRONTISPIECE_
"'YOU SHA'N'T LEAVE THIS SPOT UNTIL YOU GIVE UP THAT DEER,
AND THAT'S ALL THERE IS TO IT!'" 27
"FOLLOWING THE TRAIL OF THE COMANCHES" 70
"'HOLD ON,' HE CRIED TO HENRY PARKER. 'SOMETHING IS IN
THAT BUSH!'" 98
"'HOLD BACK!' YELLED DAN" 157
"'YOU RASCAL! GET BACK, OR I'LL SHOOT!'" 212
"'THAT'S WHAT I CALL A PRETTY GOOD HAUL,' CRIED DAN,
ENTHUSIASTICALLY" 229
"HE BEGAN TO LOWER HIMSELF INTO THE HOLE" 258
FOR THE LIBERTY OF TEXAS.
CHAPTER I.
THE HOME ON THE FRONTIER.
"Dan! Dan! Come quick and see what I brought down with the gun!"
"Why, Ralph, was that you I heard shooting? I thought it was father."
"No; I was out, down by the river bank, and I brought down the finest
deer you ever set eyes on. He was under the bunch of pecan-trees, and I
let him have it straight in the neck and brought him down the first
crack. Now what do you think of that?"
Ralph Radbury's rather delicate face was all aglow with excitement and
pardonable pride, as he spoke, leaning on his father's gun, a long,
old-fashioned affair that had been in the family's possession for many
years. Ralph was but a boy of eight, although years of life in the open
air had given him the appearance of being older.
"What do I think?" cried Dan, who was Ralph's senior by six years. "I
think you'll become a second Davy Crockett or Dan'l Boone if you keep
on. It's a wonder the deer let you come so close. The wind is blowing
toward the stream."
"I trailed around to the rocks where we had the tumble last winter, and
then I came up as silently as a Comanche after a scalp. I was just
about ready to fire when the deer took alarm, but I caught him when he
raised his head, and all he gave was one leap and it was all over.
Where is father? I must tell him." And Ralph looked around impatiently.
"I don't know where father is, if he isn't down by the river. I thought
he went off to look up those hogs that got away last Saturday. In these
times, so he says, we can't afford to lose six fat porkers."
"Perhaps those rushers who were on their way to Bexar rounded them up
on the sly."
"No; father put the crowd down for honest men, and he rarely makes a
mistake in judging a man, Ralph. Either the hogs got away by themselves
or else some of those sneaking Comanches have been around again."
"Oh, Dan, that puts me in mind,--when I was up at the rocks I was
almost certain I saw one of the Indians farther up the river. As soon
as I looked that way he dodged out of sight, so I only caught one
glimpse of him--if he really was an Indian."
At his younger brother's words, Dan Radbury's face took on a look of
deep concern. "You are not real sure it was an Indian?" he questioned,
after a pause.
"No, but I'm pretty sure, too. But even if it was an Indian it might
have been Choctaw Tom, you know."
"You're wrong there, Ralph. All the Caddo Indians are friendly to the
whites, and if it was Tom he wouldn't hide away after you had spotted
him. More than likely it was a dirty Comanche, and if it was--well, we
had better tell father about it, that's all."
"Why, you don't think----" Ralph paused, abruptly.
"I know a Comanche isn't to be trusted. Come, let us look at the deer,
and let us try to find father at the same time. Is the gun loaded?"
"No." Ralph looked sheepish. "I--I was so pleased to bring down the
deer I forgot all about loading again."
_
"Then you're not such a famous hunter, after all, Ralph. The wise man,
especially in these parts, loads up before his gun-barrel has a chance
to cool. Put in your load at once, and I'll bring along that Mexican
_escopeta_ father traded in for a mustang last week. I don't believe
the old gun is of much account, but it will be better than nothing."
"Father wouldn't take it from the greaser if it wasn't all right. But
why must we both be armed? Do you think the Indians are close by?"
"As I said before, I don't believe in trusting these bloodthirsty
Comanches. Poke Stover knows them like a book, and he says they are
just aching to go on the war-path, now the government is having so much
trouble of its own."
"If the Indians are around it won't be safe to leave the cabin alone,"
was the younger boy's comment.
"I reckon we can leave it for awhile, Ralph. We won't be gone more than
an hour, at the most," concluded Dan Radbury, as he disappeared into
the cabin for the firearm he had mentioned.
The scene was that of a typical frontier home, in the heart of Texas,
close to the Guadalupe River, and about ten miles from what was then
the village of Gonzales. It was the year 1835, and the whole of
northern and western Texas could truthfully be put down as a "howling
wilderness," overrun with deer, bison, bears, and other wild animals,
wild horses, and inhabited only by the savage and lawless Comanche,
Apache, Cherokee, and numerous other tribes of Indians. As regards the
rest of the State, it may briefly be stated that this immense territory
of thousands of square miles contained not over twenty-two thousand
white and black people combined. How many Indians there were is not
definitely known, but they have been estimated at fifteen to eighteen
thousand. The main cities were San Antonio de Bexar, San Felipe de
Austin, Nacogdoches, San Augustine, Columbia, and the seaport town of
Velasco, but not one of these boasted of more than thirty-five hundred
inhabitants.
To this territory had come, three years before, Amos Radbury, the
father of the two lads introduced at the beginning of this chapter. The
family were from Georgia, where Mr. Radbury had once owned a large
interest in a tobacco plantation. But a disastrous flood had robbed him
not only of the larger portion of his property, but also of his much
beloved wife, and, almost broken-hearted, the planter had sold off his
remaining interest in the plantation for five thousand dollars, and
emigrated, first to New Orleans, and then to his present home. The trip
from New Orleans had been made in a prairie wagon, drawn by a double
yoke of oxen, and had consumed many weeks, and that trip over the
prairies, through the almost trackless forests, and across numerous
dangerous fords, was one which the boys were likely never to forget. On
the way they had fallen in with a small band of treacherous Indians,
but they had been saved by the timely arrival of some friendly Caddos,
under the leadership of Canoma, a chief well known throughout the
length and breadth of Texas.
On reaching the Guadalupe River, a stop of two weeks had been made at
Gonzales, and then Mr. Radbury had obtained possession of a grant of
land embracing over five hundred acres, the tract lying on both sides
of the stream. The price paid for the land was ten cents per acre. This
is not to be wondered at, since land in other portions of the State was
sold as low as two cents per acre!
The three years spent in the wilderness had done wonders for all of the
members of the family. The hard work of clearing off the timber,
planting, and of building a cabin and a cattle shelter, had done much
to make Mr. Radbury forget his grief over the loss of his wife and
property, and the rough outdoor life had made Daniel Radbury "as tough
as a pine-knot," as he was wont to say himself. It had likewise done
much for little Ralph, who had been a thin and delicate lad of five
when leaving the old home in the magnolia grove in far-off Georgia.
Even yet Ralph was not as strong as Dan, but he was fast becoming so,
much to his parent's satisfaction.
Amos Radbury's venture had prospered from the start. The land was rich
and his crops were consequently heavy, and no disease reached his
cattle, which speedily grew to the number of several hundred heads. In
addition to his beeves he had nearly a hundred hogs, and during the
last year had taken to raising horses and mustangs, for the market at
Bexar, as San Antonio was commonly called.
The raising of mustangs had been a source of much satisfaction to the
boys, who speedily learned to ride so well that even the liveliest of
the animals failed to shake one or the other off, although, of course,
neither could do a thing when the beast got down and began to roll
over.
"It's immense, to ride like the wind!" Dan would cry. "There is no
better sport in the world! I don't wonder the Indians enjoy it so
much."
"Yes, the Indians enjoy it, and they'll enjoy getting our mustangs,
too, if we give them the chance," had been Mr. Radbury's reply. But so
far only one mustang had been taken, and that by a Comanche half-breed
named Hank Stiger. Stiger had been accused of the crime by Mr. Radbury,
but had pleaded his innocence, and the pioneer had dropped the matter
rather than have more trouble, since it was known that the half-breed
and the Comanches in the neighbourhood were closely related in all
their underhanded work. In those days it was no uncommon thing to hang
a horse thief, but had this happened to Hank Stiger, it is likely that
the Comanches under Bison Head, who had their hunting-grounds in the
Cross Timbers, so-called, of the upper Colorado River, would have gone
on the war-path immediately following.
CHAPTER II.
THE DISAPPEARANCE OF THE DEER.
The cabin was a strongly built affair of rough logs, fifteen feet deep
by thirty feet long. It was divided into two apartments on the ground
floor, the first used as a general living-room and the second as a
bedchamber. From the bedchamber a rude ladder ran to a loft, used as
extra sleeping-quarters when the Radburys had company, and also as a
storeroom. There were two windows in the sleeping-room below, and a
window and a door in the general living-room. Each of the windows were
shuttered with slabs of oak, secured, inside, by square bars of ash.
All of the furniture excepting one bed, a table, and two chairs was
home-made, and consequently rather primitive in style, and built more
for use than for ornamentation.
At one side of the living-room was a wide, open fireplace, and here,
above the mantel-shelf, hung the old Mexican _escopeta_, or cavalry
musket, which Dan intended to take along on his expedition to the spot
where Ralph had brought down the deer. Taking the gun down, the youth
saw to it that the weapon was loaded and ready for use, and rejoined
his brother.
In those days every Texan trusted his neighbour implicitly, and nobody
thought of locking up his home even though he expected to be gone
several days, unless it was thought that unfriendly Indians were about.
The Radburys had gone away frequently, leaving everything open, and had
never suffered, excepting as previously mentioned. Once, on returning,
they had found that some other settlers from fifty miles away had
stopped there over night, but this was explained in a note stuck to the
eating-table, the "neighbour" offering to "square up" on demand. When
the two parties met, Mr. Radbury told the other that the only way he
could settle up was by calling again,--which was the usual Texan method
of rounding out such hospitality.
"I've a good mind to lock up," remarked Dan, as he reached the
dooryard. "I don't like this idea of Indians spying about."
"Oh, come on," interrupted Ralph. "We won't be gone long, and no Indian
could do much in such a short time."
The elder brother shook his head doubtfully. "I don't know," he mused,
but when Ralph took hold of his arm, he suffered himself to be led
away; and soon they were hurrying for the river. There was quite a
clearing to cross, and as they gained the timber Dan paused to look
back and to gaze around them. But neither man nor beast was in sight.
On hurried the two boys, through a tangle of brush and tall pines, the
latter of the long straw variety and smelling strongly of turpentine
whereever the last storm had broken off a top or a heavy branch. Closer
to the stream was a stately row of cottonwoods, with here and there a
fragrant magnolia, which reminded the lads of the former homestead left
so many miles behind. It was the spring of the year and the magnolias
were just putting forth their buds, and Dan paused for a second to gaze
at them.
"I'll tell you what, Ralph, it will be a long while before Texas is as
civilised as Georgia," he observed.
"Will it ever be as civilised, Dan? I heard father say last week, when
he was talking to Brossom, that he never thought it would be,--so long
as Texas was joined to Coahuila and belonged to the Mexican
Confederation. He said Texas ought to be free."
"He is right, too,--we ought either to be free, or else belong to the
United States. It's all well enough for the Mexicans living in Coahuila
to belong to the Confederation if they want to, but they don't care for
us Americans, and they are going to grind us under if they can."
"But they were glad enough to have us come in, weren't they?--I mean at
first."
"Yes, when Stephen Austin came in with his first batch of emigrants
they welcomed the newcomers with open arms, and gave each man a large
tract of land for himself, one for his wife, and more land for each
child or servant, and they were mighty glad to have other _empresarios_
bring in emigrants, too, so I've read in the papers. But now they are
getting afraid that the Americans will overrule them, and there is
bound to be a lot of trouble sooner or later."
Ralph was anxious to show his brother his prize, and as they neared the
spot where the big deer had been brought down he ran on ahead, and so
the talk on State affairs came to an end. But Dan was right, there was
much trouble ahead, as we shall see as our story progresses.
The cottonwoods passed, the boys faced another small clearing, where a
forest fire years before had lain many a towering pine low. Beyond this
burnt and barren spot were the pecan-trees overhanging the river, where
the deer had come to slake his thirst when Ralph had trailed him and
brought him low.
"Oh, Dan! The deer's gone!"
The cry came straight from Ralph's heart, as with staring eyes he ran
in under the pecan-trees and gazed at the spot where the game had
rested less than an hour before.
"Gone?" repeated the brother. "Then you didn't kill him?"
"Yes, I did,--I am sure of it, for I turned him over after he was shot.
Could some wild animal have carried him off?"
"More than likely, although it would take a pretty fair sized animal to
tote a deer, especially if he was as big as you say. Let us see if we
can find any tracks."
They began to search around the bank of the stream, and soon discovered
a number of footprints.
"Indian moccasins!" exclaimed Dan. "Ralph, you were right about that
Indian. He was watching you, and after you left the deer he came in and
took possession."
"But he hadn't any right to do that," burst out the smaller boy,
angrily. It cut him to the heart to have his first big game taken from
him. "It's downright robbery."
"It certainly wasn't fair, but about its being robbery, that's
questionable. You shouldn't have left your game without leaving
something on top of it, a knife or anything, just to show that you were
coming back for it."
"But this is father's land."
"It isn't fenced yet, and the Indians don't recognise such ownership,
anyway."
"But they must have known I was coming back. No one would throw away
such choice venison as that was." Ralph heaved a sigh. "I wish I was a
man,--I'd go after that redskin in short order, and make him either
give up the game or bring him down with my gun."
"If you shot him you'd bring on a regular war, more than likely. But if
you wish, we can follow this track for a stretch, and look for father
at the same time."
Ralph was more than willing to do this--anything to learn what had
really become of his game, and so they continued up the river bank for
the best part of half a mile. Here they came to a creek, leading
directly west, and saw that the footprints followed this new
water-course. Along the creek the way was rocky and uneven, and it was
plain to see where the deer had been dragged along.
Ralph was going on, with his eyes bent to the trail, when suddenly his
brother caught him by the arm, bringing him to a halt. In silence Dan
pointed to the opposite side of the creek, at a distance a hundred feet
farther up the water-course.
"It's Hank Stiger, the half-breed!" burst in a low tone from Ralph's
lips. "And see, he is tying my deer fast to his pony."
"You are right, Ralph."
"I'm not going to let him get away in this fashion!" went on the
younger lad, excitedly.
"He's got to give up that meat, or I'm going to know the reason why."
"Don't be rash. Hank Stiger is a bad man to deal with."
"Are you going to let him go without doing anything?" demanded Ralph.
"I'm sure you wouldn't if it was your deer!" he added, bitterly.
"No, we'll talk to him and put our claim as strongly as we can. But be
careful, that's all."
With this caution Dan ran along the bank of the creek until he reached
the ford where the half-breed had crossed. He went over, with Ralph at
his heels and both boys were within easy speaking distance of Hank
Stiger before the latter discovered them.
"Hi there, Stiger! what are you doing with that deer?" demanded Dan, as
he came closer, with his gun in both hands across his breast.
At the sound of the boy's voice the half-breed turned quickly and his
repulsive reddish-brown face fell sullenly. He was a short, stocky
fellow, with a tangled head of hair and wolfish eyes which betrayed the
Comanche blood that flowed in his veins from his mother's side.
"Who are you?" demanded the man, hardly knowing what to say, so
completely had he been taken by surprise.
"I am Dan Radbury, as you know very well. This is my brother Ralph, and
he shot the deer you are carrying off."
"Not much!" ejaculated the half-breed. "I brung that deer down
myself--shot him through the neck."
"It's not so!" burst out Ralph. "The deer is mine, I brought him down
over in the pecan grove on the river."
"Why, youngster, you're dead wrong, I tell you. I shot this deer right
down thar on this creek, two hours ago. He limped off after I hit him,
but I followed the trail easily and found him in the pecan grove, dead
from whar I had struck him in the neck."
This cool answer almost took Ralph's breath away from him. "It was I
struck him in the neck, Hank Stiger, and the deer belongs to me, and
you sha'n't bluff me out of my meat, either."
"Hush, Ralph, don't be so headstrong," remonstrated Dan, in low tones.
"You'll gain a good bit more by keeping cool."
At Ralph's words the half-breed let out a rough, unnatural laugh.
"Boy, you must be daft, to tell me I don't know when I bring down a
deer. The deer is mine, and if you shot at him you wasted your powder,
that's all."
So speaking, Hank Stiger swung himself on the back of his mustang,
which little beast looked all out of proportion to the deer and man
mounted on him. His gun was slung over his shoulder, and there he
allowed it to remain while he gathered up the reins and urged his pony
forward.
Ralph was white. As told before, he was but a boy of eight, yet his
life on the frontier had given him the appearance of being ten or more.
Rushing in front of the mustang, he raised his gun and pointed the
muzzle at Stiger's head.
[Illustration: "'YOU SHA'N'T LEAVE THIS SPOT UNTIL YOU GIVE UP THAT
DEER, AND THAT'S ALL THERE IS TO IT!'"]
"Stop where you are!" he cried, commandingly. "You sha'n't leave this
spot until you give up that deer, and that's all there is to it!"
CHAPTER III.
A QUARREL AND ITS RESULT.
It must be confessed that Hank Stiger was badly frightened when Ralph
confronted him with the loaded gun. He was naturally not an overly
brave fellow, and while the boy before him was young, yet he realised
that Ralph could shoot as well as many a man. Besides this, Dan was
there, and he was also armed, and now had his finger on the trigger of
the ancient cavalry musket.
"Don't shoot!" The words came from Dan. He could not help but admire
his brother's pluck, yet he was sorry that the affair had taken such an
acute turn. His caution was unnecessary, for Ralph had no intention of
firing, excepting Stiger should attempt to rush by him or use the gun
slung on his shoulder.
The mustang took several steps, and then the half-breed brought him to
an abrupt halt. "You're carrying matters with a putty high hand, to my
notion," he remarked, sarcastically.
An awkward pause followed, Ralph knowing not what to say, and glancing
at Dan, half afraid that his brother would be tremendously angry with
him over the hasty threat he had made. Yet he felt that he was in the
right, and he kept his gun-barrel on a line with the half-breed's head.
"Stiger, you might as well give up the deer," said Dan, as quietly as
he could. "It's Ralph's first big game, and of course he feels mighty
proud of it. A good shot like you ought to be able to bring down lots
of game of your own."
Dan imagined that this tempered speech and side praise would put the
half-breed in good humour, but he was mistaken. Stiger glanced from one
lad to the other, his face growing more sullen each instant.
"This deer is mine, and you can't force me to give it up," he muttered.
"Put down that gun, or we'll have trouble."
"You put down the deer, first," said Ralph, sturdily.
"It's my deer, not yours, and I won't put it down. I'm not afraid of
two youngsters like you."
Again Ralph's temper got the better of him. "You shall put it down,
Hank Stiger. You are nothing but a horse-thief, and I----"
"Ha! call me a hoss-thief!" ejaculated the half-breed, in a rage. "I
won't stand that, boy. You shall suffer for it."
"You are a horse-thief, and stole one of my father's animals last year.
Now you want to steal my deer, but you shall not do it. Dan, he's got
to give it up, hasn't he?"
"Yes, he has got to give it up," answered the older brother, seeing
that matters had gone too far for either of them to back down. Dan was
slow to make up his mind, but, once it was made up, he was
uncompromising to the last degree.
"Supposing I refuse to give up the deer?" came from the half-breed. He
spoke in a brusque manner, but there was a shade of anxiety in his
tone.
"You had better not refuse."
"You wouldn't dare to shoot at me."
"Don't you be too sure of that," put in Ralph. "You must remember that
father could have had you shot down for a horse-thief, had he wanted to
do so. I don't want any trouble with you, but I am bound to have my
game."
"All right, then, you keep the game!" ejaculated Hank Stiger, in deep
rage, and, turning on his mustang, he picked up the deer and flung it
to the earth. "But remember, I say I shot that deer and that he is
mine. Some day you'll rue your work here, mark my words!" And with an
angry shake of his dirty fist at them he kicked his mustang in the
sides and was soon lost to view in the forest to the north of the
creek.
The two boys watched him carefully, and they did not lower their guns
until they were certain that he had gone too far to turn and fire at
them. Then Ralph knelt over the deer and examined the torn open neck.
"There, I was sure of it!" he cried, triumphantly. "There is my bullet,
and that's the only shot he received."
"Let me see." Dan took the bullet. "You are right, Ralph. But, even so,
we have made an enemy of Stiger for life. He will never forgive you for
calling him a horse-thief."
"I don't care,--I got the deer. Do you believe he'll come back to make
more trouble?"
"There is no telling. I think we had better be getting back to the
house,--father doesn't seem to be anywhere about. There is a tree
branch. You can tie the game to that, and we can both pull it down the
creek to the river and then over to the burn. It won't be worth while
bringing a pony out to do it."
Both set to work, and in a few minutes the deer was fastened to the
branch and slid into the creek. The bottom was sandy, and the water
made the load slip along readily. The lads had just crossed the burn
with their drag when a gunshot rang out, coming from the direction of
the ranch home.
"Listen!" ejaculated Dan. "A shot from the house! What can that mean?"
He dropped his hold on the branch and leaped forward, unslinging the
_escopeta_ as he did so. For a moment Ralph hesitated, not wishing to
leave his game again, but then, as his brother disappeared into the
belt of timber hiding the cabin from their view, he also dropped his
hold, feeling that, even though a boy, his presence might be needed
elsewhere.
When Dan reached the clearing about the ranch home he found his father
in the doorway, rifle in hand, gazing anxiously in one direction and
another. Mr. Radbury was tall and thin, and constant exposure to the
sun had browned him considerably. A glance sufficed to show what he
really was, a Southern gentleman of the old school, despite the rough
life he was at present leading.
"Dan!" cried the parent, gladly. "I am happy to see you are safe. Where
is Ralph?"
"He is just behind me, father. But what's the trouble? Has anything
happened here while we have been away?"
"I hardly think so, but the Indians are around,--I saw two of them
directly across the river, and half a dozen at the big tree ford, all
Comanches, and several of them in their war-paint. I was afraid you had
had trouble with them."
"No, we've had trouble with somebody else," answered Dan, but before he
could go any further Ralph appeared. The tale about the deer and Hank
Stiger was soon told, Mr. Radbury listening with close attention.
"And do you think I did wrong, father?" questioned the youngest
Radbury, as he concluded his narrative.
"No, I can't say that, Ralph," was the grave answer. "But I am afraid
it will make us more trouble all around. Stiger and Bison Head are
intimate friends, and if the Indians are going on the war-path again,
the half-breed may direct an attack upon us. It was a great mistake to
speak about that stolen horse. We can't prove that Stiger took it,
although I am morally sure he was the guilty party."
After a short talk, it was decided that Mr. Radbury should go into the
timber for the deer alone, leaving Ralph and Dan to watch around the
cabin and the cattle shelter. At the shelter were several cows, used
for milking, and a number of pigs. The other stock was off on the range
between the ranch and Gonzales, grazing.
"I'd like to know if the cattle are safe," remarked Dan, after his
father had left. "If those Indians should take it into their heads to
round them up and drive them off it would be a big loss."
"Perhaps Hank Stiger will put them up to it," returned his brother. "I
suppose he is mad enough to do most anything."
Leaving Ralph to see to the defences of the ranch home, Dan hurried
down to the cattle shelter. This was in plain view of the cabin and
could readily be covered from two firing-holes left in the shutter
which covered one of the windows of the sleeping apartment.
Everything was as the youth had left it that morning, and there were no
indications that any marauders had been around during the absence of
Ralph and himself. The gate to the cattle enclosure was open, and some
of the cows were outside. These he drove in and then barred up the
gate.
Back of the cattle shed, at a distance of several hundred feet, was a
slight hollow, where there was a pool of water surrounded by
mesquite-trees and bushes. This pool could be seen only from the back
of the shed, and as Dan walked in that direction, something caught his
eye which instantly arrested his attention.
It was a plume of feathers waving above the bushes close to the pool.
There was a similar plume a short distance away.
"Turkey feathers," he muttered to himself. "But there are no wild
turkeys down there, and I know it. Father was right, the Comanches are
watching our home and surrounding it."
As soon as he had made his discovery, Dan felt inclined to run back to
the cabin with all speed. But this would let the Indians know that they
were discovered and probably make them hasten their plans. So instead
of running he took his time, walked completely around the shed, stopped
to pat a favourite cow on the nose, and then sauntered slowly to the
cabin.
Once inside, however, his manner changed. "Ralph, father was right, the
Comanches are on the war-path!" he exclaimed. "Bar up the windows, and
I'll look to it that every gun and pistol in the house is ready for
use."
"Then you saw more of them?"
"Yes, two down by the hollow."
"Do they know that you saw them?"
"I hardly think so." Dan began to look over the stock of pistols,
several in number, including a "hoss" nearly two feet long. "I wish
father was back," he added, anxiously.
"Shall I fire a signal?"
"Not yet, for it may only make the Comanches hurry up. But you can
watch for father from the doorway, and if you see him, beckon him to
run for it," concluded the elder brother.
CHAPTER IV.
SOMETHING ABOUT THE INDIANS IN TEXAS.
While the two boys are waiting for their father's return, and wondering
what will be the next movement of the Comanches surrounding the ranch
home, let us turn aside for a moment to consider the state of affairs
in Texas in this momentous year of 1835.
As said before, Texas and the territory known as Coahuila, lying on the
southern bank of the Rio Grande River, formed one of the states of the
Mexican Confederation. At the time Texas became bound to Coahuila there
was a clause in the constitution which allowed her to become a separate
state whenever she acquired the requisite size, although what the
requisite size must be was not specified.
The Texans were satisfied, at that time, to belong to the Mexican
Confederation, but they soon discovered that to be tied fast to
Coahuila was going to become very burdensome. The latter-named
territory was inhabited almost entirely by Mexicans who had nothing in
common with the Americans, and these Mexicans kept the capital city of
the state at Monclova or Saltillo, so that the settlers in Texas had to
journey five hundred miles or more by wagon roads for every legal
purpose. Besides this, the judiciary was entirely in the hands of the
inhabitants of Coahuila, and they passed laws very largely to suit
themselves.
The first troubles came over the land grants. A number of men, headed
by Stephen Austin, had come into Texas, bringing with them hundreds of
settlers to occupy grants given to these leaders, who were known as
_empresarios_, or contractors. Each settler's grant had to be recorded,
and the settlers grumbled at journeying so far to get clear deeds to
their possessions. At the same time, Mexico herself was in a state of
revolution, and often one so-called government would not recognise the
grant made by the government just overthrown.
The next trouble was with the Indians. The Comanches, Apaches,
Shawnees, Wacos, Lipans, and separated tribes of Cherokees, Delawares,
and Choctaws, some driven from the United States by the pioneers there,
overran the northern and central portions of Texas, and those on the
frontier, like Mr. Amos Radbury, were never safe from molestation. The
Mexican government had promised the settlers protection, but the
protection amounted to but little, and at one time only ninety soldiers
were out to guard a frontier extending hundreds of miles, and where the
different tribes of the enemy numbered ten to twenty thousand. The only
thing which saved the settlers from total annihilation at this time was
the friendliness of some of the Indians and the fact that the red men
carried on a continual warfare among themselves.
Some of the Indian fights had been notable. One of the worst of them
was an encounter between a band of over a hundred and about a dozen
whites under the leadership of James Bowie, better known as Jim Bowie,
of bowie-knife fame,--this knife having become famous in border
warfare. In this struggle the whites were surrounded, and kept the
Indians at bay for eight days, killing twenty odd of the enemy,
including a notable chief. The loss to the whites was one killed and
two wounded.
This fight had occurred some years before the opening of this tale,
but, only a month previous to the events now being related, another
encounter had come off, on Sandy Creek, but a few miles from the
Radbury home. A party of French and Mexican traders, thirteen in
number, had gone up to the house of one John Castleman, and during the
night the Indians came up, murdered nearly all of the number, and made
off with the traders' packs. Castleman hastened to Gonzales with the
news, and a posse was organised to follow the red men. This resulted in
another battle, in the cedar brakes along the San Marcos, and some of
the Indians were killed. But the majority got away, taking most of the
stolen goods with them.
The mentioning of these two encounters will show with what the early
settlers of Texas had to contend while trying to raise their crops and
attend to their cattle. Often a bold settler would go forth into the
wilderness, erect his rude hut, and then never be heard from again, his
habitation being found, later on, either deserted or burnt to the
ground. And men were not the only sufferers, for women and children
were often either killed or carried off into captivity. Once two
well-known ladies were spirited away in the most mysterious fashion,
and they were not returned to their homes until both had spent several
years among the red people.
Dan and Ralph thought over many of these affairs as they set about
preparing the ranch home against any attack which might be made upon
it. Ralph especially was much agitated, for, some six months before,
several Indians had stopped at the ranch for the purpose of trading
ponies, and one of them had eyed the soft-haired boy's scalp in a
manner which had given the youth a shiver from head to foot.
"They sha'n't have my scalp," he murmured to himself. "I'll die first!"
And, young as he was, it may be believed that he meant what he said.
"Do you see anything of father?" called out Dan, as he finished
inspecting the last of the pistols.
"No."
"He ought to be coming up by this time."
"I really think we ought to fire a shot for a signal."
"We'll wait a few minutes longer."
They waited--every minute seeming like ten. It was a clear, sunshiny
day, and outside only a faint breeze stirred the trees, otherwise all
was silent. At the end of five minutes Dan stepped to the doorway.
"Father!" he called, at the top of his voice.
No answer came back, and then Ralph joined in the cry, which was
repeated several times.
"He ought to hear that," said Ralph, as the silence continued. Then his
face grew pale. "Perhaps they have killed him, Dan!"
"I heard no shot; did you?"
"No, but some of the Indians may have bows with them. I heard one of
those Indians who was here last say he didn't like the white man's
fire-bow because it made so much noise it scared all the game. If
they've got bows and arrows they could easily crawl up behind father,
and----" Ralph did not finish in words, but his brother understood what
he meant only too well. Reaching for one of the pistols, Dan ran
outside of the door, and fired it off.
Mr. Radbury had gone for the deer with his gun slung over his back, so
he could easily fire a return signal if he wished. Eagerly the brothers
listened, but the exasperating silence continued.
Then, as Dan reloaded, Ralph fired a second shot.
"Something is wrong," said the older brother, after several more
minutes had gone by. "If father was coming with the deer he would be in
sight sure. Either the Indians have surrounded him or killed him, or
else they have got between him and the house so that he can't get in.
I'm going up to the loft with the spy-glass and take a squint around."
Glass in hand, Dan ran up the rude ladder to the loft, which was some
six feet high at the ridge-pole and two feet high at the edge of the
sloping sides. There were windows on all four sides, but those at the
slopes were small and only intended for observation holes.
Ralph had closed all of the shutters, so the loft was almost dark. With
caution Dan opened one shutter after another and swept the woods and
country around with the glass.
He could not see the hollow, but at the crest of the hill by the cattle
shed he made out the heads of several Indians gathered back of some
bushes and talking earnestly. Presently the Indians, separated, and two
of the number walked off in the direction of the river, on the opposite
side of the ranch home.
"They are up to something," reasoned the boy, and took up a position on
the other side of the loft. From this point he could see a small
portion of the river as it wound in and out among the trees and brush.
He waited impatiently for the Indians to reappear, and at last saw them
cross a glade close to where he and his brother had met the half-breed.
As the Indians came out into the open, Hank Stiger met them.
"He will join them now if he wasn't with them before," thought Dan, and
in this he was right. The Indians and Stiger held a short talk, and
then all three disappeared in the belt of timber surrounding the burn.
"Can you see anything?" called up Ralph.
"Yes, several Indians, and Stiger has joined them."
"Stiger! And what of father?"
"I see nothing of him. Ralph, I am afraid we are in for it this time,
and no mistake."
"You think the Indians really intend to attack us?"
"I do."
"Right away?"
"No, they will probably wait until it grows dark, especially now, after
they have seen us barring the windows."
"Then I had better be ready to bar up the door, too."
"Yes, but keep a lookout for father. He may come in on the run, you
know."
Dan continued to use the glass, stepping from one window to another.
But the Indians had disappeared from view, and not another glimpse of a
feather or a painted face was to be seen.
Presently he found himself looking toward the burn. Back, in the timber
bordering the river, was a tall tree which reared its head a score of
feet above its fellow trees. As he turned his glass in that direction,
something unusual in the top of the tree attracted his attention.
He gazed long and earnestly at the object, and at last made out the
form of a man, who was waving some dark thing, probably his coat, to
and fro.
"It must be father!" he thought. "I'll signal in return and make sure,"
and catching up a bed sheet he stuck it out of the window for a minute
and swung it vigorously. As he did this, the party in the tree flung up
the coat and caught it, then disappeared from view. At once Dan drew in
the sheet, closed all the shutters of the loft, and went below.
CHAPTER V.
THE ATTACK ON THE RANCH.
"Well, I've just seen father and signalled to him."
"Where was he, Dan?"
"In the top of the king pine by the river. He was waving his coat to
attract my attention. I waved a bed sheet at him and then he threw his
coat up in the air and caught it, and got out of sight as soon as he
could."
"Then he was going off."
"Yes," answered Dan. For among these pioneers to throw an object from
one and then catch it meant to go away and return. "Probably he is
going away for assistance."
"I shouldn't think he would leave us alone," mused Ralph, his face
falling perceptibly.
"That makes me feel certain that the Indians don't intend to attack us
until dark. Perhaps father heard some of their powwowing, or some talk
between them and Stiger. Anyway, I am sure he is going away."
"Then we may as well close up tight."
"All but the door. But bring in all the buckets full of water first. We
may be in for a regular siege of it."
Dan's suggestion was carried out, and the older boy also made a raid on
the cattle yard and brought in one of the cows, tying her close to the
door. "Now we'll have milk and meat too, if the worst comes to the
worst," he observed. No matter what else happened he did not intend to
be starved out.
Their regular chores done, the two boys locked up below, but left the
door unbarred, and then went to the loft, taking with them their guns
and the spy-glass.
"I suppose we can count this something of a fort," remarked Ralph. "But
I don't care to play soldier--I'd rather have the Indians leave us
alone."
"So would I. But I guess I can play soldier if I have to," added Dan,
with quiet emphasis. Secretly he loved soldiering much better than life
on the ranch, but in those days he never dreamed of the adventures on
the battle-field which were still in store for him.
The afternoon wore away slowly until the sun began to set behind the
timber west of the ranch. In the meantime, the boys, having had no
dinner, grew hungry, and Ralph spent some time below in boiling a pot
of coffee and stirring and baking some ash-cakes, serving both with a
bit of broiled steak.
"It's too bad we can't have some venison," he sighed to his brother.
"But I reckon my first big game is going to get us into a whole lot of
trouble."
"I reckon the Indians were getting ready to come down on us, anyhow,"
answered Dan. "It seems they can stay quiet just so long, and then
their animal nature breaks loose for a shindy."
Dan had just returned to the loft after his repast, when he uttered a
shout.
"An Indian is coming toward the cabin, Ralph!"
"Do you know him?"
"No, but he is a Comanche."
"In war-paint?"
"I don't know if it's war-paint or not, but he is daubed full of all
the colours of the rainbow."
"It must be war-paint. Is he alone?"
"Yes, and riding a white pony. His gun is on his back, and he doesn't
look as if he was up to mischief."
"Oh, I wouldn't trust him!" cried the younger lad. "He may be up to
some of their treachery."
"But I can't stop him from coming to the cabin. I'll be on my guard,
and you must be, too," concluded Dan, and went below. With quickness he
hid away all the weapons but two pistols, one of which he stuck in his
shirt bosom and gave the other to Ralph.
"We must keep apart," said Ralph. "Then if he attacks one or the other
the free one can fire on him."
"That's good generalship," returned Dan, with a grim smile.
By this time the Indian rider was close to the dooryard, and Dan walked
outside to meet him. As soon as the youth appeared, the savage halted
his steed.
"How! How!" he said, in guttural tones, meaning "How do you do?"
"How are you?" returned Dan.
"Wolf Ear is sick--got pain here," and the red man pointed to his
stomach.
"Sick, eh? What have you been doing,--eating and drinking too much?"
"No, Wolf Ear big sick two moons past,--sick come back,--can't ride and
must lay down," groaned the savage, grating his teeth as if in intense
pain. "White boy help Wolf Ear, me lof him."
Under ordinary circumstances Dan would have been touched by this
appeal, for he knew that the Indians suffered just as many aches and
pains as did the white folks.
"I am no good at doctoring sick men," he answered. "Wolf Ear had better
go back to his own medicine man."
At this the Indian stared at the boy stolidly for fully half a minute.
He understood that he was not wanted, and that he would not be allowed
into the cabin.
"White boy have no medicine for Wolf Ear?" he said, slowly.
"I don't know what would be good for you."
"Where white boy's fadder?"
"He has gone away." A sudden idea came to Dan's mind. "I think he has
gone to Gonzales to bring along some of the lumbermen to look over the
plans for a sawmill. There are about a dozen men thinking of setting up
a sawmill around here."
The Indian pursed up his mouth, trying to conceal his chagrin. "He come
back soon?"
"I expect him every minute. But you had better not wait for him.
Perhaps you'll feel better if you wash off that war-paint on your
face."
At this Wolf Ear scowled viciously. "White boy big fool!" he cried, and
reached around for his gun. But before he could raise the weapon both
Dan and Ralph had him covered with the pistols. Not having seen the
weapons while speaking, the Indian was taken aback.
"Put that gun down," said Dan, sternly. "I am not such a fool as you
think."
"Wolf Ear only make fun," grinned the savage, feebly. "No mean to
shoot."
"I don't like your fun, and I want you to leave this place."
At once the red man straightened up like an arrow on his pony. "Wolf
Ear will go," he said, loftily. "But Wolf Ear shall not forget you!"
And he turned his steed to ride away. Evidently he had forgotten all
about his alleged pain.
"Dan, make him give up his gun," cried Ralph, in a low voice. "If you
don't he'll try to shoot us as soon as he reaches cover."
"Halt!" exclaimed the older brother. "Wolf Ear, you must leave your gun
with us. You can come back for it when my father is here."
At first the Indian pretended not to hear, then he turned back to look
at them, but without stopping his pony.
"My firearm is mine," he said. "The white boy shall not rob the poor
Indian," and digging his heels into his pony's sides he set off at a
breakneck pace for the nearest patch of timber. Ralph was about to fire
on him, but Dan stopped the proceedings.
"No, let him go," he said. "Whatever happens, don't give them the
chance to say that we opened the fight. If we start the affair we'll
get into all sorts of trouble with the agency."
Before they could argue the matter Wolf Ear had gained the timber. Both
of the boys were now in the doorway of the cabin. Bang! went the
redskin's gun, and the bullet embedded itself in the door-post close to
their heads. Like lightning the boys leaped into the living-room and
barred the oaken barrier behind them.
"He has opened the attack!" gasped Ralph, the shot, coming so close,
temporarily unnerving him. "I told you he'd do it."
Dan did not answer, but, running to the closet, brought out the best of
the guns belonging to his father. Leaping up to the loft, he opened the
firing-hole fronting the direction Wolf Ear had taken, and squinted
through. But the Indian horseman was long since out of sight.
"Can you catch him?" asked Ralph, from the foot of the ladder.
"No, he's gone."
"Do you think he'll bring the others down on us now?"
"No. They know we are armed, and they couldn't rush across the clearing
and break in without one or more of them being shot, and they are too
afraid of their hides to undertake the job. But they'll close in as
soon as it's dark, beyond a doubt."
"I hope father comes back by that time."
"So do I. Do you suppose they are driving off the cattle on the range?"
"There is no telling. For all we know they may be up back of the cattle
shed, too."
It was now so dark that but little could be seen beyond the clearing
immediately surrounding the cabin. Each of the boys stationed himself
in the loft, Dan watching to the north and the east, and Ralph to the
south and west.
With the coming of night the silence seemed more oppressive than ever,
and only the occasional mooing of the cow tied near the door broke the
stillness around the cabin. From the woods came now and then the cry of
a night bird, but that was all. The breeze had died out utterly.
But presently came a cry that caused the hearts of both lads to thump
vigorously within their breasts. It was the note of a night-owl,
repeated six times.
"That's a Comanche signal," said Dan, in almost a whisper. "Ralph, they
must be coming now, and if they are, God help us to do our best in
repelling their attack!"
"Amen!" came almost solemnly from the younger Radbury. "Can you make
out anything yet?"
"No--yes! Somebody is sneaking through the timber toward the river.
It's an Indian with a gun! He's turning toward the house, and two other
Indians are behind him!"
Several minutes more passed--minutes that seemed like hours to the
boys, whose hearts thumped as never before. Both felt that a crisis in
their lives had arrived.
"They are coming, five strong," whispered Dan, at last. "Perhaps I had
better fire a pistol to warn them off."
"Do it," answered his brother, and soon the report broke the stillness.
At the sound the Comanches came to a halt in the clearing, midway
between the cabin and the timber. The halt, however, was only
temporary, for an instant later a wild war-whoop rang out, and they
charged swiftly on the ranch home!
CHAPTER VI.
POKE STOVER TO THE FRONT.
"Here they come, Dan!"
"Yes, Ralph. Watch your chance, and fire at the fellow on the left.
I'll take the one on the right."
There was no time to say more, for now the Comanches were close to the
cabin. Both youths were tremendously excited, but they felt that it was
a case of life or death, and did their best to nerve themselves
accordingly. Each picked his man, and both guns rang out at the same
time. The reports had not yet died away when the redskin aimed at by
Dan flung up one arm and sank back, badly wounded in the side. Ralph
had missed his mark by a few inches.
The sudden attack brought the remaining Indians to a halt, and for a
second they appeared not to know what to do next. Then the wounded man
staggered back toward the timber, and with another war-whoop the others
continued toward the cabin.
The boys had no time left to reload, and caught up the pistols and let
drive again. This time it was Ralph who hit his man, a slight wound in
the leg. Hardly had the pistols belched forth than the Indians opened
fire, and four bullets buried themselves close to the firing-holes in
the loft openings.
"They mean to overpower us if they can," cried Dan. "We must load up as
fast as we can!"
The Indians, or at least the three that were not wounded, had now
gained the door, and were trying to force it open. But their hatchets
and the axe they had brought along failed to make much of an impression
on it, and all they could do was to shout in their rage and demand that
the boys open the door at once.
"Open! Open!" came in Wolf Ear's voice. "Open, or we will scalp you!"
"Go away, or we'll shoot you all down!" answered Dan, who had now
reloaded his gun.
"We will not go away. What is in the house belongs to the red man, and
he must have it."
"It belongs to our father, and you shall not have one thing," retorted
Dan.
He had unbarred the shutter of one of the upper windows, and now,
leaning out swiftly, he took aim at the forms grouped below, and fired.
A howl went up, for the bullet had nipped one red man in the ear and
glanced along the shoulder of a second. Then came a quick fire in
return, and Dan gave a scream that caused Ralph's heart to almost stop
beating.
"You are struck?" queried the younger brother.
"It's not much," came from Dan, and, breathing heavily, he flung to the
window-shutter and bolted it again. Then he came down the ladder, the
blood flowing from a wound in his neck. Had the bullet come two inches
closer, Dan would have been killed on the spot.
The Indians were now trying to batter the door down with a log of wood
picked up close at hand. The cow bothered them in their efforts, and
one of the red men had to take time to cut her loose, at which the cow
ran off to the cattle shed once more.
Thus far three of the attackers had been wounded, one quite seriously.
The other two continued to hammer away at the door, which presently
showed signs of giving way.
"Let us try to fire through the door," whispered Ralph, when he saw
that his brother was still able to continue the struggle. "We may hit
them, and, anyway, we'll give them a scare."
Dan nodded, and both drew closer to the barrier with their guns. But
before they could level their firearms, there came a report from the
edge of the timber next to the burn, and one of the Indians was heard
to yell in mortal agony and fall on the doorstep.
"Somebody is coming!" cried Dan, joyfully. "It must be father!" Then a
second report rang out, and another red man was struck, in the arm.
This was the savage who had previously been nipped in the ear, and,
without waiting for another shot, he sped away in the darkness, and his
two companions after him, leaving the dead Indian where he had fallen.
There was now no use of trying to fire through the door, and Dan
motioned Ralph to run up to the loft.
"See if you can make out who it was that fired," he said, "and if it is
father, and he wants to come in, call for me to open the door."
The boys had lit a single lantern, but now this was put out, since they
were afraid some treacherous red man might still be lurking at hand, to
fire at them through a crack in the cabin walls. While Ralph made his
survey from above, Dan stood at the door, his hand on the bar, ready to
throw it back on an instant's notice.
"A man is coming on the run!" announced Ralph, presently. "He is waving
for us to open the door. I can't make out who it is."
"Is it father?"
"No, I can't make out---- It's Poke Stover! Let him in, quick!"
Back shot the bolt and up went the heavy bar, and as the door was
opened to the width of a foot, the figure of a tall, heavily bearded
frontiersman slipped into the cabin. He helped hold the door while Dan
secured it again.
"Poke Stover!" cried the youth. "I'm mighty glad you've come!"
"Are you and Ralph safe?" was the question, as soon as the man could
catch his breath, for he had been running with all the swiftness at his
command.
"Yes, although I've got a scratch on the throat. But father--do you
know anything of him?"
"Yes, he has gone to Gonzales to bring help. He says he signalled to
you from the tall pine."
"So he did. Did he have a fight with any of the Indians?"
"Yes, he was attacked by Bison Head and Hank Stiger, the half-breed. He
put a bullet through Stiger's left calf, and knocked the Injun down
with the butt of his gun. That's the reason the two were not with the
party that attacked the cabin."
"How many are there, all told?" asked Ralph, who had come down the
ladder again.
"Not more than ten, and one of 'em's dead outside."
"And two or three of them are wounded," added Dan.
"The wust on it is, they'll be gittin' thicker and thicker," resumed
the old frontiersman, who had drifted into Texas from Missouri several
years ago, and who had spent all of his life on the plains. "I've half
a notion as how Bison Head is tryin' to git the whole Comanche nation
on the war-path."
"If that's the case, they may organise around here," said Ralph. "How
long do you suppose it will be before father gets back?"
"He said he would try to make it by daybreak," answered Poke Stover.
"It's accordin' as how he finds his men."
The talking now dropped off, as the frontiersman said it would be best
to remain silent and keep on guard at the various port-holes in the
shutters.
Slowly the night wore away, until it was three o'clock in the morning.
Only one alarm had come, but this had amounted to nothing.
"I see a light," announced Dan. "Can it be a camp-fire?"
"Not likely, lad," answered Stover. "Comanches on the war-path don't
light 'em. It's a signal."
"Another signal to attack?" queried Ralph.
"More'n likely. We must keep our eyes peeled for 'em."
Another half-hour dragged by, and the only sound that broke the
stillness was the morning breeze, as it began to stir through the
timber surrounding the clearing. Outside not a soul was to be seen.
"Perhaps that was a signal to withdraw," suggested Dan. "I hope it
was." But Poke Stover shook his head, for he had seen much of the
Comanches and understood them thoroughly.
"They won't go until they've had another round at ye," he said. "I'm
expectin' 'em every minit now."
Scarcely had he finished, when something attracted Dan's attention back
of the cattle shed. An object was moving around. Presently it started
straight for the cabin.
"It looks like one of the cows--and it is," he announced. "I wonder
what started her up?"
"Let me take a squint," said the frontiersman, and covered the
port-hole searchingly for half a minute. Then he raised his rifle, took
careful aim, and blazed away. There was a grunt of dismay, and an
Indian, who had been driving the cow and dodging directly behind, ran
back, while the cow kicked up her heels and flew in the opposite
direction.
"Thar, I reckon he'll know enough to keep back after this," growled
Poke Stover, with much self-satisfaction. "He thought he was goin' to
sneak up unbeknown to us, but I crossed his trail fer him that trip."
"What do you suppose he was going to do, if he had gotten close to the
cabin?" asked Ralph.
"He had a bunch of brush in his hand, lad, and probably a bit o' fire
about him, too, although I allow as how I didn't see no light."
"Then he wanted to burn us out!" ejaculated the youngest Radbury.
"That was his game."
Ralph shivered at the thought. It was bad enough to be shot at, but to
be burned out! He wished daylight would come and his father would
return with the much-needed aid.
With the coming of daylight those in the cabin could see with greater
clearness under the tall timber, and soon Poke Stover announced that
several Indians were in sight.
"They are making something," he announced. "Looks like a stone-boat,"
meaning thereby a sort of flat drag-sled often used for removing stones
from a field.
"I know what it is!" exclaimed Dan. "It's a shield! One or two of them
will come up behind it. See if I am not right."
The three waited anxiously, Ralph fairly holding his breath in
expectancy. At last the shield, for such it was, was done, and slowly
two Comanches came forward, holding it in front of them, and taking
care that neither should expose so much as a hand or foot.
"Hang 'em!" muttered the tall frontiersman, and, taking deliberate aim
at a slight crack in the wooden shield, he fired. But the barrier was
thick and tough, and the bullet failed to penetrate to the opposite
side.
One of the Indians behind the shield carried a bunch of dry grass and
some brush, and as they came closer this was lighted. Then the burning
stuff was hurled forward. It was tied into a bundle with some strong
vines, and had a stone attached to give it weight. It landed on the
roof of the cabin, blazing brightly, then rolled off to a spot directly
below one of the windows.
CHAPTER VII.
IN AND OUT OF THE BURNING CABIN.
"The roof is on fire!"
"The wall is on fire under one of the sleeping-room windows!"
The first cry came from Ralph, who was in the loft, the second from his
brother, who saw the flames and smoke coming through the cracks where
the wall and the flooring of the cabin joined. The breeze was
increasing, and soon both fires were burning merrily, as if such flames
were not tending toward a tragedy.
"Some water--we must put it out!" came from Poke Stover, and, catching
up one of the buckets the boys had thoughtfully provided, he ran to the
window beneath which the conflagration was spreading. "Unbar it, Dan,
and I'll souse it out. Look out that you don't expose yourself."
The shutter was unbarred and opened for the space of several inches. At
once the smoke began to pour into the cabin, setting them all to
coughing. Then the breeze carried the smoke in the opposite direction.
Suddenly Poke Stover set down the bucket of water and grabbed Dan's
gun. A quick aim and a flash, and one of the Comanches let go of the
shield and danced around with a broken elbow. Then both of the enemy
retreated far more rapidly than they had come.
"Got him that trip," was the frontiersman's satisfactory comment. "But
be careful, Dan, there are others watching us from the timber."
The shutter was pushed open a little more, and with much skill Poke
Stover dashed the water on the blaze and put the most of it out. Then
he wet an old coat and beat out what remained.
"It's a pity we didn't have no dirt handy to shovel on," he said,
pausing to catch his breath, while Dan locked the shutter again. "We
may need this water afore we git through. How is it up thar, Ralph?" he
called.
"It's burning pretty lively," was the reply. "But perhaps we can beat
it out with the coat."
"The Indians can spot you on the roof," said Dan.
"Go down and unbar the door and swing it partly open," said Poke
Stover. "That will attract the attention of the Injuns, and they won't
be a-lookin' at the roof. But wait a minit, till I'm ready fer ye!" he
added, as he laboured up the ladder with a second bucket of the
precious water. The old coat was soused thoroughly, and Stover opened
the shutter nearest to the fire.
"Now go ahead!" he called out, and Dan opened the door, and swung it
back and forth several times. He also showed his hat on a stick, and in
a trice came several shots, one going through the head-covering and
entering the closet in the corner. Then he swung the hat out again, and
another shot followed.
During this time the old frontiersman had reached out of the upper
window and beat out part of the fire and hurled the remainder to the
ground, far enough away from the cabin to keep it from doing further
harm. One shot was aimed at him, as the breeze exposed him through the
smoke to the Comanches, but this luckily flew wide of its mark.
"By gosh, but that was a close shave!" ejaculated Stover, as he dropped
back into the loft, while Ralph closed the shutter. His beard was
singed in two places and his face was red and hot. "It's a good thing
that fire wasn't allow to gain no more headway."
He bathed his face and took a drink of water, and then all three began
to speculate upon the next probable movement of the Comanches. By the
clock on the living-room mantel it was now half-past four.
"Father ought to be coming now," said Ralph. "But perhaps he has been
unable to get anybody to come back with him."
"Don't worry about that," returned Poke Stover. "They'll all come if
only they git the word. The buck ague don't go around here." By buck
ague the frontiersman meant the fright which occasionally takes
possession of a pioneer or soldier when facing Indians who are on the
war-path.
It was not long after this that the Indians began to show their
activity once more. Others of the tribe had arrived, until they
numbered eighteen or twenty, the majority of whom were armed with guns,
only one or two of the older warriors sticking to their bows and
arrows.
"I reckon they suspect we are waiting for help, and they mean to do
something before it gits too late," observed Poke Stover. "Perhaps
they'll give us another rush before they withdraw fer good. We had
better inspect all of our shootin'-irons, fer we may want 'em badly."
The frontiersman was right, the Comanches were organising an attack, to
be divided into three parts,--one party to come from the timber
skirting the burn, the second to come up behind the cabin, and the
third to make a dash from behind the cattle shed. The first division
carried a heavy log, with which they hoped to batter down the door in
short order.
"They are coming!" The cry came from Dan, who was watching the timber
in front of the burn. "There are six of them!"
"Here comes another crowd from the shed!" ejaculated Ralph.
"They have divided up," said the frontiersman. "Boys, I'm afraid we now
have a stiff piece of work cut out for ourselves. A third party is
coming from the rear, and there is no telling but what there may be
still more. We must do our best and fight to a finish, for they are on
the war-path for fair, and they'll show us no mercy if once they git at
us. Load up and fire jest as quick as ye can! Give it to 'em hot!"
As Poke Stover finished, he leaped to the window nearest to him, shoved
the muzzle of his weapon through the port-hole, and pulled the trigger.
A yell went up as one of the redskins threw up his arms and fell. But
then the others came on faster than ever, yelling and shouting in a
manner to cause the stoutest heart to falter. Surely, as Stover had
said, it would be a fight to the finish, and they were but three to
seventeen.
Dan was at one port-hole and Ralph at another, and now both fired
simultaneously. Whether the shots were effective they could not tell.
Certainly none of the Indians dropped.
In two minutes more the Comanches were running around the house in
every direction, trying to batter down the door with the log, and
likewise trying to pry open several of the shutters with their
hatchets.
At such close quarters it was next to impossible to fire on them,
although several gun and pistol shots were exchanged. Once an Indian
fired through a port-hole into the bedchamber, and the burning gun-wad
landed on one of the straw bedticks.
"Put it out!" roared Poke Stover, and while Dan trampled on the fire to
extinguish it, the frontiersman let the Indian have a shot in return.
Crash! crash! The heavy bombardment on the door was beginning to tell,
and already there was a long crack in the oaken slab, and the splinters
were flying in all directions.
"We'll take our stand here!" cried Poke Stover, motioning to a spot
facing the door. "Give it to 'em the minit daylight shines through!"
And they did, with such serious results that the party with the ram
dropped that instrument and ran to the opposite side of the house. But
their places were quickly taken by others, and now it looked as if the
door must give way at any instant.
Suddenly, just when it looked as if the next shock to the door must
smash it into a hundred pieces, there came a scattering volley of
rifle-shots from the timber near the river, answered almost instantly
by a second volley from the forest opposite. Then came a yell from the
Comanches, and a cheer in English.
"Hold the cabin! We are coming!" came in Mr. Radbury's well-known
voice, and never had it sounded more comforting to the two boys than at
that moment. Then followed more shots, some striking the cabin and
others hitting the Indians, who were so demoralised that for the moment
they knew not what to do.
"Down with the redskins!" came in the tones of a settler named
Whippler, who had lost his wife in a raid about a year previous. "Kill
every one of 'em! Don't let them escape!"
In his eagerness to annihilate those he so hated, he rode to the front
of the others, discharging his gun and his pistol as he came, and then
leaping upon the nearest redskin with his long hunting-knife. He
brought the red man down with a stroke in the breast, and was then laid
low himself by Red Pony, an under chief, who was in charge during the
absence of Wolf Ear and Bison Head. Red Pony then ran off for his very
life, followed by fourteen others, the remainder being either killed or
wounded.
"Boys! Are either of you wounded?" asked Mr. Radbury, as he leaped from
the mustang he was riding, and rushed into the cabin.
"We are all right, father," answered both lads.
"Thank God for that!" murmured the parent, reverently. "But, see, your
neck is bleeding," he added, to Dan.
"It's only a scratch."
"Good. Poke, I see you managed to get to them. You are a brave fellow,
if ever there was one."
"We've had a hot time of it, father," put in Ralph. "If it hadn't been
for Mr. Stover, I don't know what we would have done."
"Ralph is right," assented Dan. "If he hadn't put out the fire we would
have been burnt out, and the cabin would have gone up in smoke in the
bargain."
"I shall not forget your kindness, Poke," said Mr. Radbury, taking the
frontiersman's horny hand. "But, as you are all right, I fancy I had
better join the others, and follow the miscreants."
"And I'll go with ye," said Poke Stover, who disliked too much praise,
although not averse to some laudatory speech. "We ought to round up
every mother's son of 'em while we are about it."
"Shall we go too?" asked Dan. "I'd rather do that than remain behind,"
he continued.
"You may come, if you'll promise to keep to the rear," answered the
father. "Remember, the Indians are wily, and may set a trap for us."
All went outside, crawling through the battered doorway, and were soon
mounted on several extra mustangs Mr. Radbury had brought along. The
planter informed them that he had brought with him twenty-four men,
including Jim Bowie, who had happened to be in Gonzales at the time.
Soon the party of four were riding hard to catch up with the other
whites, who were following the trail of the Comanches along the bank of
the upper Guadalupe River.
[Illustration: "FOLLOWING THE TRAIL OF THE COMANCHES."]
CHAPTER VIII.
AN UNSUCCESSFUL PURSUIT.
After leaving the vicinity of the cabin, the Comanches struck a trail
leading through a cedar brake over the hill back of the cattle shed.
Here they came together, and without halting swept straight along the
Guadalupe River, as previously mentioned. They felt that the whites
would follow them, and their one hope of safety lay in gaining the
wilderness about San Saba Hill, sixty to seventy miles north of San
Antonio.
The leadership of the whites naturally fell to Colonel Jim Bowie, for
he had been in numerous Indian quarrels, and was a good man on the
trail. It may be here mentioned that Bowie, who was afterward to become
so well known in Texas, was one of two brothers who came to that
territory from Louisiana, after having been engaged for years in the
slave-trade. The man was as bold as he was daring, and it was said that
he knew not the meaning of the word fear.
The Indians were all on horseback, and as their steeds had had a long
rest they were fresh, and made rapid progress. On the other hand, the
mustangs of the whites were tired from the hard night's ride from
Gonzales and vicinity, and they could not keep up the pace, although
urged to do their best by their riders. All of the whites bewailed the
fate of Whippler, and swore to be revenged if given "the ghost of a
chance."
When Amos Radbury, Stover, and the two boys gained the other whites,
they found Bowie's party fording one of the creeks running into the
Guadalupe. The Indians had passed there about ten minutes before, and
it was to be seen that they had not even stopped to water their horses.
All of the settlers' horses were thirsty, and some refused to budge
from the stream until they had slaked their thirst.
"Do you think they will be caught?" asked Dan, as he swept along beside
his father.
"They will not be caught if they can help it," replied Mr. Radbury,
with a faint smile. "They know it will go hard with them if we do come
up with them."
"What of the wounded?" asked Ralph. But his father merely shrugged his
shoulders.
"They'll crawl off in the bushes, and either git away, or die,"
answered Poke Stover, philosophically. To him the life of an Indian was
of no account. He had never considered that an Indian might be educated
into becoming a useful member of the great human family.
On and on swept the little body of determined whites, each with his gun
in his hands, and his eyes on the alert for the first sign of danger.
The trail was still along the river, but presently it branched off, and
entered an _arrayo_, or gully, thick with thorny plants and entangling
vines. At the end of the _arrayo_ was a rocky plateau, and here for
the time being the trail was lost.
"The Indian that's leading them knows his business," remarked Colonel
Bowie, as he brought his command to a halt.
"That's right, but we'll soon be on his tail ag'in," returned Poke
Stover, who had come to his side. "Let's spread out in a fan, colonel;"
and this was done, each man examining his part of the great semicircle
with extreme care. A short while after, the trail was again struck, and
they swept on. But at both this place and at the ford valuable time had
been lost.
Noon found the Comanches still out of sight and hearing. But the trail
was fresh and easily seen, and it seemed only a question of endurance
upon one side or the other.
"If it wasn't for the jaded hosses," sighed Poke Stover. His own steed
was fairly fresh, but it would have been foolhardy for him to have gone
on ahead of the main body, with perhaps only one or two others being
able to do likewise. The Comanches would have liked nothing better than
to have gotten at the whites one at a time.
As the afternoon came and went, the party in pursuit began to grow
hungry. A few of the horsemen had brought rations with them, and these
were divided, each man and boy eating as he rode on. Some of the men
likewise carried liquor, and this was also divided, although Ralph and
Dan procured drinks of water at a spring instead. In those days it was
share and share alike with all of the settlers, and one man was
considered as good as another so long as he was honest and willing to
work. For dandies, from Philadelphia, New York, or other large cities,
the Texans had no use, nor did they love those who tried to show off
their learning. They were whole-souled, as it is called, to the core,
and they wanted everybody else to be so, too.
It was growing dark when Bowie called a halt on the edge of a small
clearing leading up to a hill thickly overgrown with scrub pines.
"We must be careful here, men," he said. "They may be scattered along
yonder timber belt, watching for us to uncover ourselves. We had better
move to the right and the left, and give the old signal if any of the
redskins appear in sight."
The split was made, but the Radburys and Poke Stover kept together. One
Indian was discovered, and the settler who saw him at once shouted, as
prearranged. Then the Indians, seeing that the attempt to draw the
whites into the open had failed, dashed along up the hillside, as
rapidly as the tangle of growth permitted. A number of shots were
exchanged, but nobody was hit.
During the afternoon one of the men had brought down a wild turkey, and
another several hares, for game of all kinds was still thick.
"That will do for supper," said Mr. Radbury. "But we will have to be
careful how we build a fire."
At seven o'clock the chase came to an end for the day, the jaded ponies
refusing to climb the hill that loomed up before them. One of the
ponies was a bucker, and threw his rider over his head into a
mesquite-bush.
"Thet settles Bill Darson," drawled the Texan, as he extricated himself
from his difficulty. "When the pony kicks, I kick, too. We don't go no
further jest now, hyer me!"
But Bowie, Mr. Radbury, and several others insisted upon gaining the
brow of the hill, as a point of vantage, and all plodded to the top,
where they went into camp in the midst of the trees, half a dozen men
being sent out to do picket duty, so that Bison Head's band might not
crawl up during the night and surprise them.
"I'd like to know what became of Wolf Ear and Hank Stiger," remarked
Dan, as he flung himself on the ground, glad enough to get out of his
high and uncomfortable Mexican saddle.
"They know enough to git out o' sight when thar's a fight on," answered
Poke Stover, with a broad laugh. "Them kind o' varmin always does."
Usually the frontiersman spoke fair English, but at times he dropped
into the vernacular of the plains.
"I hope he doesn't go back to the cabin, now it's deserted," put in
Ralph.
"He may do that!" burst out Dan. "I never thought of it before." And he
mentioned the matter to his father.
"He will hardly dare to go back, for other settlers will be coming up
from time to time," said Mr. Radbury. "He knows only too well that he
is already in bad favour with all straight-forward men."
"He's a sneak," said Ralph. "But by the way, father, you haven't told
us your story yet, although we have told ours."
"There is not much to tell, Ralph. I went for the deer, as you know. I
was dragging it back to the cabin, when I caught sight of several
Indians, and, by their movements, I saw that they wanted to cut me off
and, more than likely, slay me. I at once abandoned the deer and ran
deeper than ever into the woods."
"Of course they followed you?" came from Dan.
"Yes, they followed me, but only one or two shots were exchanged, and I
was not hit. I think I wounded one Indian, but I am not certain. Then I
gave them the slip and climbed into the king pine, as you boys named
the tree. You remember the signal I gave you?"
"To be sure."
"I meant I would try to get help near by, if possible. I had seen
several lumbermen around, and I fancied they might be down the river a
mile or so. I ran along the river with all my might, and there met Poke
Stover and told him what was happening. He at once agreed to go to your
aid, and urged me to arouse the settlers around Gonzales. He promised
to hold the cabin and stand by you as long as he could draw his
breath."
"And he did it!" cried Ralph. "He's a noble man."
"At first I could find nobody at home," went on Mr. Radbury. "Joel
Nalitt was away, and at the Runyons' only the women folks were in. But
over to the Powers's ranch I met Powers, Anderson, Striker, and a
German, who was a stranger, and they said they would all come along.
Anderson rode over to Whippler's, and those two brought along the other
men. It's too bad that Whippler was killed."
All in the party agreed with Mr. Radbury in this, although some said
that it was better Whippler should be killed than some man with a wife
and children. Whippler and his late wife had never had any offspring.
The night was raw and cold, and toward morning a fine rain set in,
adding greatly to the discomforts of the whites. The game brought down
proved but a scanty meal all around, and for breakfast there remained
absolutely nothing.
"This is too bad," said Dan, referring to the rain. He was soaked to
the skin, and so was everybody else in the party.
The trail was taken up as soon as it was light enough to see, and the
Indians were followed fully fifteen miles, over a winding way leading
over hills and rocks, and through immense belts of timber land. They
had to ford several streams, and at one of these points they stopped
for an hour to catch and cook some black bass, which were plentiful.
Toward nightfall the chase came to an end.
"It's no use," said one of the oldest of the settlers. "They've got too
good a start of us, and it will be foolishness for a mere handful of
whites to ride right into the Indian country. They'll lay a trap and
massacre every one of us."
All of the others agreed with the spokesman, and it was not long before
the party was riding back toward Gonzales. At first they followed the
winding trail, but, coming to one of the numerous creeks of the
vicinity, they branched off and took almost a direct route to the town.
"Will you go back with us?" asked Mr. Radbury of Poke Stover, when it
came time for the Radburys to separate from the others. The ranch home
could be seen from the top of a neighbouring hill, and all seemed to be
as they had left it two days before.
"Yes, I reckon I will," answered the frontiersman. "I ain't got nothin'
else to do, and ye may want an extra man about fer a day or two, jest
for to keep his eye open."
The storm had cleared away, and the sun was shining brightly as the
party of four rode up to the battered door of the deserted cabin. Down
around the cattle shed the cows were browsing away as usual, and
several of the pigs gave Ralph a grunt of recognition as he passed
them.
"Home again!" cried Dan, and hopping to the ground he crawled through
the doorway into the living-room of the cabin. As he went in he noticed
that the body of the dead red man had been removed from the doorstep.
"Is it all right?" asked Ralph, when a cry from his brother aroused
him.
"An Indian!" came from Dan. He had discovered a wounded red man lying
on the floor in the corner. Then he gazed around the room and glanced
into the sleeping apartment.
"Father, come in, quick!" he went on. "Somebody has been here, and has
carried off a dozen or more things. And your desk is broken open, too,
and all your papers are scattered about. Did you have any money in the
desk?"
CHAPTER IX.
BIG FOOT AND THE MISSING PAPERS.
Dan's cry brought Mr. Radbury into the cabin without further delay,
followed by Ralph and Poke Stover.
"What has been stolen?" queried Amos Radbury. "I see that old
Revolutionary sword of your grandfather is gone."
"So are two of the pistols, and that half dozen solid silver spoons
mother got from Aunt Elizabeth," answered Dan. "But what of money in
the desk?"
"I had but little--not over twenty dollars all told, Dan." Mr. Radbury
walked over to the little desk, which was a rude affair made by himself
during his leisure hours. "Yes, it's been ransacked pretty thoroughly."
"Is anything missing?" asked Ralph.
"I can't say." Amos Radbury looked over a number of the papers. "I
guess they are all right. No, there is my discharge from the army,
after the war of 1812. The rascal who broke open the desk took the
pleasure of tearing that in half." He rummaged about a bit more.
"Hullo, it's gone!" he cried.
"What's gone?" came from both boys.
"The papers relating to this grant of land."
"Are you sure?" asked Dan.
"Yes, it isn't anywhere about."
Mr. Radbury was more worried about the papers pertaining to the land
grant than over anything else, and at once a search was instituted,
outside of the ranch home as well as indoors. It proved of no
avail,--the papers were gone.
"Will it do much harm?" asked Ralph, who knew very little as yet about
real estate matters.
"It may and it may not," answered the father. "Of course the grant is
recorded, but with matters in such a revolutionary state the records
may at some time be destroyed, and then somebody else might come
forward and claim this grant."
"Well, I reckon you won't give it up, partner," put in Poke Stover,
suggestively.
"Not without a fight, Stover," was Mr. Radbury's firm answer. "The land
is mine, paid for, and I'll hold it, papers or no papers, and no matter
how the affairs of the government turn."
"I wonder who was the thief," mused Dan. "I don't believe it was an
Indian. He might take the other things, but he wouldn't know anything
about the papers, nor care for them."
"He might be cute enough to take the papers just to throw us off the
scent," suggested Ralph.
"You're wrong, Ralph, for he wouldn't know one paper from another."
"But he'd know the land papers were important, because of the seals on
them," persisted the youngest Radbury.
The Indian in the corner now demanded their attention. He was plainly
in a bad way, and Poke Stover said it was very doubtful if he would
live.
"If he does pull through it will only be because he's a redskin and as
tough as all creation," added the old frontiersman.
In his guttural tongue the redskin appealed to Dan for a drink of
water.
"Certainly, I'll give you a drink," answered the boy, kindly, and went
out to get some water that was cool. After the Indian had had his fill,
Dan used the remainder of the water in washing his wounds and then
bound them up. After this he got out an old blanket, and he and Ralph
placed the wounded fellow on this. Before, the red man's face had had a
scowl on it, but now it became more friendly.
"White boys heap good," he grunted. "Big Foot no forget dem," and he
nodded his head suggestively. He had been shot in the leg, and was
suffering from loss of blood.
"Tell me who robbed the cabin," said Dan, for he felt that Big Foot had
had nothing to do with it.
The Indian knit his brow in speculation.
"White boy ask Big Foot hard question," he said, presently.
"But you must know."
"Big Foot t'ink know, not sure. Big Foot crawl in here out of hot sun.
He half dead. Udder man come, rob place while Big Foot half dead."
"Well, who do you imagine the other man was? It couldn't have been one
of your tribe."
"I t'ink him half my tribe. I t'ink him 'Merican-Indian, um Hank
Stiger."
"Hank Stiger!" cried Dan. "Father, did you hear that?"
"What is it, Dan?"
"This Indian was half in a faint when the cabin was robbed, but he
thinks the thief was Hank Stiger."
"That is not improbable, for Stiger was around this vicinity and did
not fight with the Comanches. He could easily have come in after we
went off on the trail. When was the robbery committed?"
"Him come in at the last sundown," answered Big Foot, meaning the
evening before.
"Alone?"
"Yes."
"And which way did he go?"
The wounded red man could not answer this query, and he now became so
exhausted that the others questioned him no further.
The fire was started up, and a generous meal for all hands was
prepared, of which the Indian was given all that was good for him. Then
the red man went to sleep, while the Radburys began to mend the
battered door and put things into shape generally. Poke Stover went off
to the timber, to find out what had become of Ralph's deer, and to see
if any of the enemy were still lurking in the vicinity.
It was learned by nightfall that no Indians were around for miles, and
this made the Radburys breathe much more easily. Strange to say, Stover
had found the deer just where Mr. Radbury had left it, and now brought
it in.
"A good shot, lad," said the old frontiersman to Ralph. "No one could
have made a better."
"Yes, it was a good shot," answered the boy. "I'm afraid I'll not be
able to do as well every time."
"You mustn't expect it. If you could do as well every time you'd be as
fine a shot as Davy Crockett himself."
"They tell me Crockett thinks of coming down to Texas," put in Mr.
Radbury. "They say he is tired of things up in Tennessee."
"Yes, I heard he was coming down," replied Poke Stover. "Well, he's a
wonderful old fighter, and if we have any trouble with the Mexicans ye
can reckon on it as how he'll be to the front from the very start." How
true was the old frontiersman's prediction the future chapters of our
tale will show.
They hardly knew what to do with the Indian. Stover wished to turn him
out to shift for himself, but the boys pleaded for the wounded red man,
and in the end he was allowed to remain where he was. The Radburys
retired to their sleeping-apartment, while Stover made himself
comfortable in front of the big open fireplace. All, however, slept, as
the saying goes, "with one eye open."
The next week was a busy one. It was found that not only had the
Indians attacked the cabin, but they had also tried to wreck the cattle
shed, and both structures had to be mended and put into order. During
the absence of the settlers some of the cattle and the mustangs had
strayed away to other ranges, and these had to be rounded up, for in
those days men of limited means, like Mr. Radbury, did not allow their
live stock to wander far away, to be rounded up once or twice a year.
If they had allowed this, cattle and ponies might have gotten into the
Indian country and never been heard of again.
At the end of the week Poke Stover left, stating that he was going to
make a trip to San Antonio de Bexar, to learn how matters were going
politically.
"There may be a scrap on already," he remarked, "and, if so, I don't
want to be sitting here, sucking my thumbs."
"I admire your sentiment," replied Mr. Radbury. "If there is trouble,
can I rely upon you to give me warning?"
"Certainly," answered Poke Stover.
He left on Saturday morning, and on Sunday Big Foot sat up for the
first time. The Radburys had done their best for him, and for this he
was extremely grateful.
"Big Foot pay back some day," he said. "Pay back sure." The boys hardly
gave attention to these words, but had good cause to remember them
later.
During the next few months matters ran smoothly, until one day when
some of the settlers from Gonzales came in. They reported another
Indian uprising farther eastward, and declared that the local
government was doing nothing to check the red men.
"We must take the law into our own hands, neighbour Radbury," said one,
who lived a matter of thirty miles away, yet considered himself a
fairly close neighbour. "The Mexicans don't care a rap for us, and I
reckon they'd just as lief see the Injuns ride over us as not."
"I trust Santa Anna does the right thing by us," answered Mr. Radbury.
"I wouldn't trust any of 'em."
"Well, if they don't do right, they had better look out for Sam
Houston, or he'll be on their heels."
"Yes, I've great faith in Houston," was the other settler's answer.
"He's a lawyer and a fighter, and I reckon he can whip 'em both in the
court-room or on the battle-field."
CHAPTER X.
THE SITUATION IN MEXICO.
In his conversation with his neighbour, Mr. Radbury had mentioned Santa
Anna, and it may be as well to look for a moment at this remarkable
personage, who at that time, and for several years to follow, was the
most important man in Mexico.
Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna was born in Jalapa, in 1795, and entered
the army at an early age. With Iturbide he joined in the revolution and
came out a brigadier-general, and was made commandant of Vera Cruz. A
few years later he organised a revolt and overthrew the man he had
aided, and in 1828 he deposed Pedraza and put Guerrero in his place.
So much of war would have satisfied any ordinary man, but it did not
satisfy General Santa Anna, who was cruel and cunning to the last
degree, and prided himself on being "The Napoleon of the West," as he
styled himself. He wanted Mexico for his own, and in 1829 he defeated a
large division of the Spanish army, that had landed at Tampico for the
purpose of reconquering the country.
Having saved the Confederation, as he put it, Santa Anna considered
that he had more of a right to Mexico than ever, and in 1832 he got
into a wrangle with Bustamente, who was then occupying the Mexican
presidential chair, with the result that Bustamente was banished by
Santa Anna's followers, who forthwith made the general president. At
this Santa Anna went still further by dissolving the Mexican congress,
which action made him virtually a dictator. How it was that the
Mexicans at large stood such treatment is one of the political
mysteries of the age that has never been explained.
Yet Santa Anna's dictatorship, if such it may be called, was a position
full of peril. There was constant wrangling in nearly every state of
the Confederation, and in a number of places there were actual
outbreaks, which might have resulted seriously had Santa Anna not
nipped them promptly in the bud. Stephen Austin had gone to Mexico to
further the interests of the Texans, and been there imprisoned for
political reasons. This helped along the war between Texas and Mexico,
which was bound to burst sooner or later.
The first dark cloud came in the passage of a decree reducing the
number of the militia to one man for every five hundred inhabitants,
and requiring all the remaining armed persons to give up their weapons.
The Texans refused to submit, stating that they needed all the
protection they could get, on account of the Indians and because of the
desperadoes who flocked into the territory. In the meantime Mexico had
sent many of her jailbirds to settle in Texas.
While this was going on, during the summer of 1835, Austin returned
from his imprisonment in Mexico, and was given a grand public banquet
at Brazoria. In his speech there he counselled moderation, but declared
that the civil government was going to pieces, and that the Texans must
take care of themselves. He still believed in Santa Anna and his golden
promises, hoping against hope for a peaceful change for the better.
At San Antonio were stationed five hundred Mexican soldiers, under
Colonel Ugartchea, and, according to orders, this command commenced to
disarm such of the Texans as had failed to comply with the decree
regarding firearms. At Gonzales, fifty miles to the eastward, the
settlers had a four-pounder, a brass cannon given to them by the
government for protection against the Indians.
"The people of Gonzales must give up the cannon," said Colonel
Ugartchea. "Tell them to send it to Bexar without delay."
"We need the cannon," said the people of Gonzales. "It's the only
cannon we have along the whole river front."
"Santa Anna's orders must be obeyed," was the Mexican colonel's
comment, and he despatched a force of one hundred and fifty dragoons,
under Captain Castinado, to take the cannon by force. The Mexican
soldiers arrived at the river on September 28th. On the opposite side
of the stream was Gonzales, but the ferry-boat was on that side, too.
The Mexican commander waved for the boat, but no attention was paid to
his movement. Then a horn was blown, but still the Texans paid no
attention.
"We will march to the ford," cried the Mexican captain, and the
dragoons started. But on reaching the ford, half a mile below the town,
they found themselves confronted by Captain Albert Martin, a merchant
of the place, backed up by several dozens of determined-looking Texans.
The alarm had now gone forth, and express riders rode their steeds
almost to death to summon the people of Bastrop, Victoria, and other
places. Soon the settlers began to flock in, all on horseback and
armed, ready to do or die for Texas, as the case might be. With the
number were Mr. Radbury and Dan. Dan had been to Gonzales to buy some
household stores, and his father, hearing of the uprising, had hastened
down the river to find his son and see that no harm befell him. This
had left Ralph home alone, saving for the company of Pompey Shuck, a
negro, who had, during the summer, followed Mr. Radbury from the old
home in Georgia and insisted that he be taken in and set to work, "jess
as on de ole plantation, Mars' Radbury." Big Foot, the Indian, had
departed some time before Pompey's arrival.
"This looks like a fight, father," observed Dan, as his parent joined
him on the bank of the stream, where Dan had gone, following Captain
Martin.
"It certainly looks like trouble," answered Mr. Radbury, as he gazed at
the Mexican dragoons with anxiety. "That cannon may be responsible for
a whole lot of bloodshed."
"Well, they haven't any right to disarm us," returned the youth,
determinedly. "You'll fight first, won't you?"
"Perhaps I will; it will depend upon circumstances," was the
non-committal reply. Amos Radbury was no "fire-eater," and, like
Austin, preferred a settlement without a passage at arms.
At the ford the Mexican commander had ridden into the water to consult
with the leader of the Texans.
"I am sent here to obtain the cannon you are holding," he said. "There
is my order," and he held it out.
"We don't dispute the order, captain," was the reply. "But we consider
it unjust to ask us to give up a piece that we may need against the
Indians."
"If you will give up the cannon you will be protected."
"We haven't been protected for a long while. We have had to protect
ourselves."
"You are thinking of using that cannon against the government," was the
angry remark of the Mexican commander.
"We are not thinking of doing so,--but it may be we will be forced to
do so," was the significant reply.
"I am coming over, and I demand the cannon," went on the Mexican
leader, pompously.
"If you dare to come over, it will be at the peril of your life," was
the calm return.
The Mexican commander continued to bluster and threaten, but all to no
purpose, and at length he withdrew his force from the ford, and went
into temporary camp in a valley opposite to Gonzales.
It was now night, and the town was at a white heat. Meetings were held
in half a dozen places, and while some counselled delay others were for
forcing the fighting. In the end, however, it was decided to wait, and
in the meantime pickets were sent out to watch the Mexicans so that
they might not enter Gonzales by stealth.
"I wonder if they will come over to-night," said Dan, as he and his
father picked their way along the river to where forty or fifty
horsemen who owned ranches in the vicinity had pitched their
headquarters, the taverns in the town being already overcrowded.
"I doubt it, Dan. We have fully as many men, if not more, and a Mexican
soldier never loves to fight in the dark."
"Perhaps the Mexican captain has sent back for reinforcements."
"That may be. Well, all we can do is to watch and be on guard."
By this it will be seen that Mr. Radbury was as anxious as any one to
keep the cannon. He had refused to give up any of his firearms, and had
buried two of his pistols under the floor of the cabin home.
The night wore away without any alarm sounding, and the next day the
Mexican commander sent another demand for the cannon, and on the day
following he asked that a time be set for a general conference
regarding the now precious bit of property.
The conference was refused, and instead he was asked to vacate his
position so close to Gonzales. This he would not do, and all of the
settlers now agreed that he was awaiting reinforcements from Bexar.
"He will wait for Colonel Ugartchea to come up with the balance of the
command, and then wipe us out altogether," said one.
"Or perhaps he is waiting for Cos to come up," said another. It was
known that the Mexican general, Cos, was on the march for San Antonio
de Bexar with six hundred additional troops for the garrison of that
city.
The morning of the first of October came foggy and disagreeable. But
little could be seen beyond the river bank, and it was not known if the
Mexican command was advancing, retreating, or standing still. Again the
leaders of the Texans met, and it was unanimously decided not to delay
action longer, but if the Mexicans were still on the opposite side of
the stream to compel them to move away before their force could be
increased. Volunteers were called for to cross the river with the brass
cannon and begin an attack, and a hundred and sixty Texans rode to the
front for that purpose. Mr. Radbury was too loyal-hearted a man to hang
back, and as Dan begged very hard to go too, he was permitted to join
half a dozen young men who brought up the rear.
CHAPTER XI.
THE OPENING OF THE WAR.
To get so many men across the river by boat would have taxed the
resources of Gonzales to the utmost, so the majority of the Texans went
around by way of the ford, only a few going over in the ferry with the
four-pounder.
The trip was made during the night of October first, and every man was
cautioned to be as silent as possible.
"We'll give them a surprise," said Dan to one of the young men, a
_ranchero_ named Henry Parker. He had known Henry Parker for over
a year, and the two were warm friends.
"Or get a surprise," was the answer. "They may be watching us just as
hard as we are watching them."
"Pooh! I am not afraid of a greaser!"
"Neither am I. But it will pay to be careful."
They had passed the ford, and now in the utter darkness the little band
made its way through the brush toward the spot where the Mexican
command had been in camp before the fog settled down.
Coming closer, the Texans were spread out in a sort of skirmish line,
with the four-pounder in the centre. Dan and his friend were on the
extreme right, down by the water's edge.
Here there was more than one little inlet to cross, and while Dan's
horse was picking his steps the youth fancied he detected a sudden
movement among the bushes overhanging the water's edge.
[Illustration: "'HOLD ON!' HE CRIED TO HENRY PARKER. 'SOMETHING IS IN
THAT BUSH!'"]
"Hold on," he cried to Henry Parker. "Something is in that bush."
"Man or beast?" whispered Henry, and placed his hand to the trigger of
his gun.
"I can't say. Wait till I investigate."
Leaving his mustang in his friend's care, Dan leaped to the ground and
ran close to the bushes. As he did this, he stumbled into a hole and
fell. He picked himself up, and while doing so heard a splash and saw
some dark object disappear beneath the river's surface.
"Come here! Something is up!" he called to Henry, and at once his
friend complied, and both ran down to the water's edge and strained
their eyes to pierce the gloom and the fog.
"What did you see?"
"Something slipped into the water, and I am half of the opinion it was
a man."
"Then it must have been a Mexican!"
"To be sure. Stay here and watch, and I'll go down the stream a bit. He
ought to come up soon."
Dan had hardly spoken when he espied a head coming up but thirty or
forty feet away. It was the head of a Mexican soldier, evidently a spy.
"Halt there!" cried Dan. "Come back here, or I'll fire!"
It is doubtful if he would have fired on the swimmer, having no desire
to open the war in person, but his threat had considerable effect.
"No shoota me!" cried the Mexican. "No shoota!" And then he continued
to talk in Spanish, which Dan and his friend understood, but
imperfectly.
"I want you to come back here," went on the youth, and he pointed his
gun.
At this the Mexican dove out of sight, not to come up for a distance of
a rod or more.
"Shoot him--you have the right," urged Henry. "Or else I'll do it."
"Don't, Henry, it might be murder. Besides, we were ordered not to
discharge any firearms until we received orders. A shot down here would
alarm the whole Mexican camp."
"But we don't want that rascal to escape, Dan."
"I have it." Dan looked around and soon found several fair-sized
stones. "Come back at once!" he ordered, and, taking aim, he let drive
with one of the stones.
Dan had always been good at that sort of thing, and the stone landed,
as intended, on the Mexican's back. He let out a howl of pain, so loud
that several Texans at once rode up to the vicinity to learn what was
the matter.
"Yes, he's got to come ashore," declared one of the men. "He may be a
spy who has been over to Gonzales, and carries some kind of a message."
He raised his voice in Spanish. "Come ashore, or we'll shoot you; do
you hear?"
_"Si, capitan_" ("Yes, captain"), was the answer, and without further
ado the Mexican turned and came back to the river bank. As he crawled
out, wet and muddy, he looked the picture of despair.
"It's Pietro the gambler, from Bastrop," said one of the Texans, after
a close scrutiny. "I'll wager he was going to give us away to the
greasers in camp."
"No, no, me watch fight, dat's all, señor," said the Mexican, who was
noted not only for his skill at cards but also for his skill at
cheating. "Pietro fight for Texans when fight 't all."
"That don't go down, you card-sharp!" cried another of the men. "I know
him well, and he would cheat his own grandmother if he could. Let us
make him a prisoner, at least until this business we are on is over."
So it was agreed, and despite the gamblers' protests he was bound hands
and feet and tied up to a near-by tree. Had he not been captured, the
fight so close at hand would probably not have come off.
On went the Texans, until a point was gained overlooking the camping
spot of the Mexicans. The advance guard reported that Captain Castinado
was still at the place with his dragoons.
"Then we'll wait until daybreak and open up on them," said the Texans,
and went into temporary camp. It is doubtful if any of the number
closed his eyes for the balance of that never-to-be-forgotten night. To
them this contest was to be like that of Concord and Lexington to the
patriots of 1775,--it was to mark the dawn of Texan liberty.
The Mexicans had located at a spot called DeWitt's mound; while the
Texans occupied a position farther down the valley and close to the
river. As soon as it began to grow light, the four-pounder was placed
in position, and the rough but rugged little army was drawn up in
battle array. Only here and there was there a man in uniform, and the
weapons were of all sorts and sizes. Leaders and privates had come
over, some on horseback, some on ponies, and others on foot.
"Give it to them!" came the sharp order, when it was light enough to
locate the Mexicans with certainty, and the brass four-pounder belched
forth its contents, and the battle was opened at last.
"Forward!" was the cry down the line, and away swept the Texans, in two
long lines, Mr. Radbury well to the front, and Dan not very far behind.
The Mexicans had been taken completely by surprise and for the moment
knew not what to do. But they quickly organised and returned the fire,
and then the Texans swept closer, and the constant crack, crack, of the
musketry could be heard upon every side.
"Gracious, this is war, sure!" cried Dan, as he discharged his gun and
proceeded to reload with all speed, while still riding forward. "It
looks as if we were going to have a hand-to-hand encounter."
"Forward, for the liberty of Texas!" shouted one of the leaders, and a
score of voices took up the cry. "For the liberty of Texas! For the
liberty of Texas!" It was a battle-cry fit to inspire any body of men.
The Mexicans could not withstand such an onslaught, and, having fired
several rounds, they broke and began to retreat before the Texans could
get within two hundred yards of them. Away they went for the road
leading to San Antonio, the Texans following them for some distance and
then giving up the chase.
The first fight for Texan independence had been fought and won, and a
mighty cheer went up, which was several times repeated. It was found
that four of the Mexicans had been killed and several wounded, while
the Texans had suffered little or nothing.
"Father, we have gained the day!" exclaimed Dan, as he rode up to his
parent. Somehow, he had never felt so proud before in his life.
"Yes, we have gained the day," answered Mr. Radbury. "The question is,
what next? You may be sure the government will not let this go by
unnoticed."
"The government! What government?" put in one old settler. "I
acknowledge no government but that of the independent State of Texas!"
And a cheer went up.
"Let us hope it will be so, neighbour Johnson," went on Mr. Radbury.
"But what if Santa Anna send out a large army to crush us?"
"He can't do it!" came from a dozen voices. "Let him come, and we'll
show him what real American blood and backbone can do."
"We must organise, and without further delay," said one of the leaders.
"We must have a regularly formed Texan army inside of thirty days, or
else we'll have to pay the piper, and that means with Santa Anna that
we'll either get a dose of lead or else dance on nothing," meaning they
would all be shot or hung. This may seem an extravagant statement, but
in view of what followed it was far from being so.
CHAPTER XII.
THE MARCH ON SAN ANTONIO.
The Mexicans had been routed, and for over a week matters went along
quietly in the vicinity of Gonzales; that is, there was no further
fighting. Meetings there were without number, and young and old began
to drill and to talk of nothing but military matters.
"Will you join the army, father?" asked Dan, when, two days after the
fight, he and his parent returned to the ranch home.
"I do not see how I can avoid it," answered Mr. Radbury. "Many of the
neighbours are going, and it might appear cowardly to hang back.
Besides, I must say that, after long thought, I have come to the
conclusion that there is nothing for us to do but to fight for our
rights."
"Hurrah! I knew you would say that," cried Dan. "We must be free by all
means, and then perhaps some day we'll become joined to the United
States."
"That is for after consideration," smiled Mr. Radbury, but the thought
had often crossed his own mind.
Ralph and the negro were anxious to hear the particulars of what had
occurred, and the boy listened to his brother's tale in open-mouthed
amazement.
"A real battle! Oh, Dan, how I wish I had been there!"
"Well, to tell the truth, it was rather one-sided. The Mexicans did not
stand up in front of us long."
"And what are they going to do next?"
"Nobody knows. But there will be war, beyond a doubt."
"Oh, yes, I suppose General Santa Anna will be as mad as a hornet when
he hears of the affair. And all over an old brass cannon, too!" And
Ralph gave a laugh.
Matters were going along smoothly at the ranch, for Pompey was a
faithful worker and had dropped into the routine without an effort. Mr.
Radbury was glad that he had come, for he felt that he wanted a man
around, in case the coming war carried him a distance from home.
As intimated, the fight at Gonzales became the talk of all Texas, and,
the day after the contest, the committee organised at San Felipe issued
a statement and called upon each man in Texas to decide for himself
whether or not he would submit to the destruction of his rights and
liberties by the central government of Mexico, and stating that the war
had begun.
While meetings were going on in a dozen places or more, and
frontiersmen and settlers were hurrying to the scene of action, a force
of about forty men, under the leadership of Captain Collingsworth,
gathered for the purpose of capturing Goliad, a small town on the lower
San Antonio River. The river was gained on the night of October 9th,
and while scouts were out reconnoitring, the brave little band was
joined by Colonel Ben Milam, an old Texan _empresario_, who had been
confined for political reasons in the jail at Monterey. Of this gallant
man we will hear more later.
Finding the coast clear, the band entered the town, and silently made
their way to the quarters of Lieutenant-Colonel Sandoval, the
commandant. They were less than a hundred feet from the garrison when a
sentry discovered them and gave the alarm. The sentry was shot down on
the spot, and then the door was splintered to kindling-wood with axes,
and the Texans poured into the building, and the commandant was made a
prisoner. There was great surprise for several minutes, but the Mexican
soldiers had been taken off their guard, and could offer little
resistance. Twenty-five were captured, and the rest escaped in the
darkness. By this quick movement the Texans gained a quantity of
valuable army stores, horses, three pieces of artillery, and five
hundred guns and pistols.
As Gonzales had been the starting-point of the war, it now became the
general centre for the gathering Texan army, and by the middle of
October there were gathered there between three and four hundred men
who were willing and anxious to serve their country. By common consent
Austin was appointed chief in command, with the title of general. The
volunteers, as they were called, were formed into a regiment, with John
H. Moore as colonel. Old Colonel Milam, who had just arrived from
Goliad, was made chief of a band of scouts,--men who did valiant
service from the beginning to the end of the war.
It was to this regiment that Mr. Radbury became attached, and Dan and
Ralph rode down to Gonzales to see their parent join. As Mr. Radbury
was a veteran of the war of 1812, he was given the position of a
lieutenant. Drilling went on constantly, and the little regiment was
gotten into the best condition that the means at hand afforded. In the
meantime other volunteers poured in daily.
At first the Texans had thought to act only on the defensive, but, as
the days slipped by, the war spirit grew on the settlers, and they said
they wanted the thing "over and done with," that they might return to
their homes and prepare for the winter. It was then decided to march
toward San Antonio, to see if the Mexicans would come out of the
stronghold to do them battle.
"Good-bye, boys," said Mr. Radbury, when the order was passed around to
prepare for the march. "It may be some time before I see you again."
"I wish I could go," answered Dan, pleadingly.
"Your time may come, Dan. But for the present I think we have enough
men for this expedition. I think you and Ralph will have enough to do
around the ranch, with me absent."
"But if I hear you are in trouble, father, I shall come on at once,"
went on Dan, and from this decision his parent could not dissuade him.
The troops were soon on the way, Dan and Ralph riding several miles
with their parent. Then, at the top of the hill, they separated. But
the boys remained on the hill until the soldiers were lost to sight in
the distance on the dusty plain below.
"Good-bye, and may success go with them!" cried Ralph, half sadly. "I
do hope father comes back safe and sound."
"If he doesn't, I shall take his place in the ranks," replied Dan,
quickly. "But come, we must be getting home now, or Pompey will be
anxious about us."
"Here comes a horseman, riding like the wind," came from the younger
Radbury, a moment later. "I declare, it's Poke Stover!"
"Hullo, boys!" cried the old frontiersman, as he came up. "What are ye
a-doin' here?"
"We just saw the troops off for San Antonio," answered Dan.
"Gone this way?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"An hour ago. See that black line over yonder? That's our army."
"Whoopee! I was afraid I'd be too late. Good-bye. We are bound to bring
them greasers to terms this trip!" And, with a wave of his sombrero,
Poke Stover rode off as rapidly as he had come.
"He'll be a whole company in himself," was Ralph's comment. "He doesn't
think any more of a Mexican soldier than he does of a fly, to bother
him."
They were soon on the way to Gonzales, where they loaded their ponies
with stores for the ranch. This accomplished, they set on up the river,
hoping to reach the ranch home by night.
In those days the banks of the Guadalupe River were altogether
different from to-day. Where numerous settlements now exist were then
immense belts of timber, with here and there a burn, or a stretch of
thorns and entangling vines. In some spots the banks were steep and
rocky as to-day, and these rocks were the homes of numerous wild
animals, including the fierce Texan wolf, the puma, the jaguar, the
wildcat, and the black bear. The stream was full of fish, the best of
which was the black bass, which, I believe, still holds its own in many
Texan waters.
As the boys passed along the narrow wagon trail, which their father and
other pioneers had blazed for themselves, they kept their eyes on the
alert for any wild beasts that might appear, having no desire to let a
fierce and hungry wolf pounce down suddenly upon themselves or their
steeds, or a black bear stalk out to embrace them. Their packs lay
behind them, and they held their guns on the saddle in front.
They were thus passing through the largest of the timber belts when the
howl of a wolf reached their ears. It was immediately answered by a
similar howl from another wolf. Both came from directly in front.
"Hullo! a wolf--two wolves!" cried Ralph, as he brought his pony to a
halt. "I don't like that much."
"Is your gun all right?" came quickly from his brother.
"Yes."
The two lads remained motionless in the saddle for several minutes,
listening. No other howl reached their ears, and the only sounds were
that of the rushing stream as it tumbled over some rocks, and the cries
of the night birds and the humming of the insects.
"Let us set up a yell," suggested Dan. "That may scare them off."
They called out at the top of their lungs several times. One distant
howl answered them, then all became as silent as before.
"We may as well go on," said the older brother. "We'll be as safe
moving as standing still. But keep your eyes peeled, Ralph."
They moved on slowly, with eyes turned to the right and the left, and
keeping as far as possible from the brushwood and the low-hanging
boughs of the trees. The mustangs seemed to realise that all was not
right, and pricked up their ears and smelled the air.
CHAPTER XIII.
A FIGHT WITH A PUMA.
"By George! Something is wrong now!"
It was Dan who uttered the words, as he again drew rein, followed by
Ralph. They had passed along a distance of less than quarter of a mile,
and the end of the forest was still a goodly distance ahead.
A fierce howling had arisen, followed by a snarling and a snapping
which caused the hearts of both boys to beat violently. The mustangs
trembled, and acted as if they wished to turn and run.
"It's a wildcat or a painter, or something, and he's got into a fight
with the wolves," continued Dan, as he strained his ears to catch the
sounds of the encounter. "They are having a lively tussle, aren't
they?"
"Let them fight it out," answered Ralph, with something of a shudder.
"I hope they all kill each other, too," he added.
The howling and snapping and snarling continued for several minutes,
then gradually died away in the distance. Still listening, they heard
some large beast trailing through the brush to one side of them. They
turned in the direction, and levelled their guns, but the animal did
not show itself.
Darkness was now coming on, and the boys wished themselves safe at the
ranch. It was one thing to ride through the timber in the daylight; it
was quite another to do so at night, and especially when the wild
animals were on the move.
"The worst of it is, one wild beast sets the other to fighting," said
Dan.
"And it's so dark a fellow can't see fifty feet ahead of him."
What to do was indeed a question, but neither of the lads wished to
remain in the timber all night, and, after another consultation, they
decided to rush their ponies along until the next burn was gained.
"If we go fast enough, no wild animal will have time to organise an
attack," said Ralph.
The wind was coming up, setting the dying leaves to scattering in all
directions. As the wind increased, the boughs of the trees swayed
violently over their heads.
Suddenly Dan, who was ahead, set up a shrill cry of alarm. He had seen
two eyes glaring down at him from the branches of a tree he was just
passing. He tried to pull back his mustang, and on the same instant a
huge puma, or, as he is commonly called in the southwest, a painter,
landed almost directly on his pony's neck.
The attack was a fierce one, and had it not been for a lucky accident
either Dan or his steed must have been killed within a few seconds, for
the puma is a heavy-built and powerful beast, and its bite, or a stroke
of its huge paw, is generally meant to be deadly.
But, as mentioned before, Dan held his gun over his saddle, and as the
painter came down the weapon went off, and the beast received the full
charge in the upper part of his left shoulder. The wound did not kill
him, or even seriously wound him, but it shocked and surprised the
beast so much that he fell back, and tumbled to the ground.
"Oh, Dan, look out!" shrieked Ralph, and pulled in his own steed. Then,
as his brother's mustang reared to one side, and the puma prepared to
make a second leap, he endeavoured to get a bead on the beast.
The puma had struck on his back. Now he had turned over and was
crouching down, like a cat getting ready to pounce upon a bird, his
bushy tail sweeping the grass with quick, nervous motion.
Bang! Ralph's gun spoke up just as the painter was in the act of
springing for Dan, and the shot took the beast in the stomach, making a
jagged and ugly wound. Again the beast dropped back, uttering a mingled
snarl of rage and pain. The snarl was exactly like that the boys had
previously heard, and they felt that this must be the beast that had
gotten into the fight with the wolves. Probably the wolves had gotten
away from him, and this and the taste of their blood had angered him
into making the present attack.
Both mustangs were now kicking and plunging, and the boys had all they
could do to keep their seats. The steeds backed away from the wounded
painter, and then Dan's mustang started to bolt. His course was under a
tree with low branches, and in a second the youth was brushed from his
back, and sent spinning to the ground.
Half stunned by his fall, Dan had yet sense enough left to know that he
must get away at once or the painter would be on him to rend him to
pieces. He leaped up, and as the fierce beast came on, grabbed the
nearest tree limb, to which he clung with might and main.
"He's coming!" roared Ralph. "Pull yourself up!" And he started to
reload with all possible speed, no light task while on the back of a
mustang that was so nervous and inclined to bolt.
Dan was doing as advised, when the puma limped up, his eyes blazing
with a fury which is indescribable. He did his best to make the leap,
and his teeth struck one of Dan's boot heels. But the boy kicked him
away and drew himself still higher, and for the moment was safe.
The wounds of the painter were now beginning to tell upon him, and he
could scarcely suppress a whine of pain. But his savage nature was not
yet conquered, and, unable to leap directly into the tree, he sprang
for the trunk and came up, slowly but steadily. When he was opposite to
where Dan lay, he paused, as if uncertain what should be his next move.
If the puma was undecided, so was the youth. If he leaped to the ground
again he was certain the beast would follow him, and he had no desire
to face the painter at such close quarters, especially as he had no
weapon of any kind with him, unless the jack-knife in his pocket might
be brought into play.
Ralph settled the question, both for his brother and the puma. As the
mustang refused to come closer, the youngest Radbury slipped to the
earth and ran up directly under the bough upon which Dan rested. At
this point he could get a fair view of the painter, and once more he
blazed away, aiming for the beast's neck and head.
Ralph's shot was all that could be wished for, and it was lucky that,
having fired, he leaped back, for, the instant after, the painter came
tumbling down, with a thud that fairly shook the earth. The shock also
brought down Dan, who landed just in front of the beast and lost no
time in retreating to his brother's side.
"Good for you, Ralph!"
"Look out, he's not dead yet!" answered Ralph. "See, he is going to
make another leap!"
But in this the youngest Radbury was mistaken. Fatally wounded, the
painter was merely endeavouring to get up on his legs, that he might
crawl into the bushes. He stood for a moment, then stumbled and fell
flat. Twice did he try thus to rise, then with a final whining growl he
lay out, stretched himself, and gave a quiver or two--and all was over.
"He's dead," said Ralph, when he could collect himself sufficiently to
speak. He was trembling like a leaf in a gale of wind.
"Don't be too sure,--they are as tough as a pine-knot," answered Dan.
"Load up again," and he picked up his own gun, which had fallen when he
was thrown from his saddle.
But the puma was dead, beyond a doubt, and they gradually drew closer
to inspect the beast they had brought down. He was at least four feet
long, and correspondingly tall and heavy, with a powerful tail and a
rather small head. His colour was of a tawny tint, fading out to a
dirty white between the limbs. The tip of the tail was black.
"He's a big fellow," remarked Ralph. "I wish we could get that skin
home. It would make a splendid rug."
"That's true, Ralph, but do you want to stay here long enough to skin
him?"
"No. But maybe we can tie him up in the tree and come back for him
to-morrow or next day."
This was decided upon, and then Dan set about catching his mustang. The
pony had run to a considerable distance, but he knew Dan's whistle
well, and after this was repeated several times he came back timidly,
although he would not go within a hundred feet of the dead puma.
Ralph carried a lariat, and this was tied to the dead beast and the
carcass was swung to the breeze, so that the other beasts of prey might
not get at it.
"Of course the vultures and hawks may attack him, but that can't be
helped," said Dan.
The work finished, they lost no time in continuing on their way, riding
rapidly, and keeping their eyes and ears on the alert as before. But
nothing else happened to alarm them, and shortly before midnight they
came within sight of the cabin.
"Home, sweet home!" cried Ralph. "I'll tell you I am glad to be back."
"And so am I," added Dan. "No more fights with a painter for me."
Pompey Shuck had heard them coming, and now ran out with a lantern to
take care of the horses, just as he had been in the habit of doing for
his master in Georgia, years before.
"I'se dun glad to see yo' back," he said, with a broad smile on his
ebony face. "Did de sodgers git away?"
"Yes, they are off for San Antonio," replied Dan. And then he told of
the adventure in the timber.
"A painter!" gasped Pompey. "I declar' to gracious, Mars' Dan, yo' an'
Mars' Ralph dun gittin' to be reg'lar hunters, he! he! I'se glad dat
beast didn't cotch dis chile!"
"I'm not anxious to hunt any more, at least for the present," said
Ralph, soberly. "I'll go back for that skin, and then I'm going to work
around the ranch, and wait for news from father and the army."
CHAPTER XIV.
THE BATTLE OF CONCEPCION.
At the time of the war between Texas and the government of Mexico, San
Antonio de Bexar could truthfully be said to be a city of importance
gone to decay. Many of the churches, convents, and missions were
deserted and fast going to ruin. The friars had returned to Mexico, and
with them had gone many of the best of the old Spanish families,
although here and there some Castilians remained, to keep up the style
of the times as best they could.
All told, the city numbered about twenty-five hundred inhabitants, the
majority of whom were Mexicans, with a fair sprinkling of American
trappers and traders. It was situated mostly on the west bank of the
river, at a point where both banks of the stream were lined with pecan
and other trees. There were two large public squares, once the scene of
much gaiety, but now overrun with grass and weeds, and between the two
squares stood the grand old buildings of the San Fernando Church. On
the east side of the river, about half a mile from the city proper,
stood the mission, with its church, convent, and walled courtyard,
commonly called the Alamo.
General Cos had now arrived at San Antonio with six hundred Mexican
militia, and as soon as he learned that the Texans were gathering for
another contest, he sent down to the Rio Grande for additional troops
and extra pieces of artillery. In the meantime, the troops under Austin
moved up to Salado Creek, four miles from San Antonio.
The time was a momentous one, and, arriving at the creek, the Texans
sent forth a flag with a message to General Cos, demanding the
surrender of the place.
"I refuse to surrender," was the Mexican commander's answer. "And if
you send another such flag it will be fired upon." This, of course,
brought negotiations to a complete standstill. Austin waited for
reinforcements, and the Mexicans spent the time in barricading the
highways leading out of the city and in strengthening their several
fortifications.
"We are not getting along very fast," remarked Mr. Radbury, to one of
his brother officers, while in the camp at Salado Creek.
"I believe Sam Houston is coming on to take charge," was the answer.
"He's an old war-horse and will be certain to lead us to victory."
Everybody felt that under Houston the Texan cause could not fail. But,
although Houston came up, he did not take command, declaring that the
expedition was in the hands of Austin, and that he was needed
elsewhere.
Several days passed, with much anxiety on both sides, and then Colonel
Bowie and Colonel James W. Fannin were ordered to take a band of scouts
with them and reconnoitre the enemy's position, with a view to moving
the Texan army still closer to San Antonio.
"We'll do it," said both officers, without hesitation, and hurried off,
taking about ninety men with them. In this body was a detachment under
Mr. Radbury, and Poke Stover was also along.
The party moved along slowly and cautiously through the clumps of trees
and mesquite-bushes, until some time during the afternoon, when they
came to a bend in the river known as the Horseshoe, where was located
the Mission Concepcion.
"This is a strong position," said Colonel Bowie. "The river and timber
will shelter us from behind, and in front is the bluff. It's an ideal
place."
"You are right," said Colonel Fannin. "General Austin cannot do better
than bring the army here."
The orders had been to return, if possible, before nightfall, but at
this time in the year it grew dark rapidly, and it was decided to go
into camp for the night; and outposts were accordingly stationed in all
directions, that they might not be surprised.
Although the Texans were not aware of it, the Mexican scouts had been
watching them closely, and no sooner did the party go into camp than
the enemy resolved to surround them in the darkness, and either shoot
them all down, or take them prisoners. For this purpose General Cos
sent out four hundred of his best troops, determined to teach the
Texans a lesson that they should never forget.
Lieutenant Radbury, as we must now call him, had charge of the outposts
along the river, and, anxious to see that his men did their duty, he
remained out with them, travelling slowly from one sentinel to another.
On duty at one point was Stover, as alert as though after some big
game.
"Any alarm, Poke?" asked the lieutenant, in a whisper, for it was not
known but that the Mexicans might be close at hand.
"Yes, and no," answered the old frontiersman, slowly. "Perhaps my
hearsight is deceivin' me, but I 'most reckoned as how I heard the
creakin' o' wheels about--thar they go ag'in!"
He broke off short, and held up his hand for silence. Both men listened
intently, and from the river bank they heard the steady, lumbering
creak as of heavy wagon wheels.
"Am I right, leftenant?" demanded the frontiersman, when the sounds had
come to an end.
"You are, Poke; do you know what it was?"
"Can't say exactly."
"It was the creaking of artillery wheels."
"Whoopee! Then they must be comin' over fer fair!"
"Yes. I will report at once."
Lieutenant Radbury lost no time in making his way to the tent in which
Colonel Fannin was poring over an old map of San Antonio.
"I have to report the coming of some artillery," he said, as he
saluted.
"Artillery?" repeated the commander. "Mexican artillery?"
"I think so, colonel." And Lieutenant Radbury related as much as he
knew. He had scarcely finished, when Colonel Bowie came in on the run.
"They are starting to surround us!" he cried. "They are bringing over
men and cannon!"
The whole camp was soon in alarm, and, after a short talk among the
officers, it was decided to bring up the men in a semicircle, close to
the bluff's edge. While this was going on, a shot rang out, and then
another, showing that one of the outposts had been fired upon.
As the night wore away, a heavy mist swept up the river, and even when
dawn came but little could be seen. Yet, anxious to avenge the loss at
Gonzales, the Mexicans opened fire at once, which, however, did no
harm. As the mists cleared away, the Mexican cavalry surrounded the
whole front of the Texans' position.
"Give it to 'em!" shouted the Texan officers. "Give it to 'em hot!"
The cry was drowned out by a solid fire from the Mexicans, who
continued to pour in volley after volley just as fast as they could
reload.
The Texans did not fire by volleys. The orders were: "Fire at will, and
make every shot bring down a greaser!" And there was a constant crack!
crack! and the Mexicans were seen to fall in all directions.
Lieutenant Radbury now found himself under actual fire, and instantly
his mind took him back to his service in the war of 1812. He carried a
rifle as well as a pistol, and did as good work as any man on the
field.
"They are preparing for a charge! They are bringing up a cannon!" was
the cry that soon rang along the line, and then the Mexican bugler
sounded out the command, and the cavalry came on with a rush calculated
to sweep everything before it. But the Texans stood firm.
"Drop 'em!" roared Colonel Bowie. "The first line, boys!" And a score
of shots rang out, and the first row of saddles was emptied almost
completely. Some of the horses were killed or wounded, and these,
falling, caused some confusion. In the meantime, other Mexicans
continued to drop, and soon the cavalry retreated to reform.
"Now they are going to use the cannon!" was the cry which went up
directly afterward, and then a four-pounder, stationed on a bluff, was
discharged. The cannon was aimed much too high, and it is said that
every shot from the piece went over the Texans' heads.
The cavalry now came on again, and it was seen that the Mexicans
intended to shift the position of the cannon so that they might
enfilade the line,--that is, shoot from one end to the other.
"Not much ye don't!" sang out Poke Stover, and, leaping to a slight
knoll, he took careful aim at one of the mules attached to the piece
and fired. Then he discharged his pistol at a second mule. Both beasts
were badly wounded, and, breaking away, they tore first through the
cavalry and then through the infantry, throwing the latter into much
confusion.
"We have 'em on the run!" Like magic the cry arose from nearly every
Texan's throat. The cavalry had charged again, and again the leading
line had gone down. Now they were retreating, with the infantry beside
them. Seeing it was of no use to remain longer, the cannoneer attempted
to spike the four-pounder, but a Texan sharpshooter cut him down in the
act.
"Come on, boys, let us follow 'em into San Antonio!" cried several, but
this the leaders would not allow, for they were only ninety strong, and
all were exhausted from the battle, which had been sharp if not of long
duration. So the Mexicans were allowed to form in the plain half a mile
away, and from there they marched rapidly back to the city. Their loss
was sixty-seven killed and forty wounded, which showed how deadly had
been the Texans' aim. The Texans lost but one killed and several
slightly wounded.
CHAPTER XV.
DAN TURNS THE TABLES.
To the boys at the ranch the days passed impatiently enough. But few
settlers came that way, so that they were cut off almost entirely from
communication with the outside world.
The puma skin had been brought in and cared for, and now they turned
their attention to getting ready for the winter, which was close at
hand.
One day, unable to stand it longer, Dan rode down to Gonzales for the
news. He found the town bubbling over with joy because of the victory
at Concepcion.
"They can't stand up against our men," said the storekeeper who was
talking to Dan. "The Texans are brave and nearly all good shots, and
they are fighting for their homes. The greasers, on the other hand, are
lazy and unreliable, paid to do what they are doing, and consequently
think of nothing but saving their own skin."
"Oh, I reckon some of them are patriotic enough," answered Dan. "But
they are in the minority."
"How can they be patriotic, and follow such a man as Santa Anna, who is
continually leading all Mexico by the nose? No, they are doing it for
the pay, and nothing else."
At the post-office Dan found a brief letter from his father, stating
that he was well, and that if no more fighting came off in the near
future he would come home on a short visit. So far there had been no
regular enlistments in the Texan army, and volunteers came and went
pretty much as they pleased.
From the storekeeper Dan learned that several bands of Indians had been
seen in the vicinity, moving to the west and north. Some were
Comanches, and others friendly Caddos.
"Well, I don't mind the Caddos," thought the boy, "but I don't want to
fall in with any more Comanches."
He had thought to go home that afternoon, or evening, as it is called
in Texas, but, after learning about the Indians, resolved to remain in
Gonzales all night and make the journey the first thing in the morning.
On the outskirts of Gonzales was the farm belonging to Henry Parker's
father, and thither he went, satisfied that he would be sure of a warm
welcome. He found Henry at home, and also Mrs. Parker, Mr. Parker being
away on business.
"Why, of course you must stay," said Mrs. Parker. "I am glad to have
company."
The balance of the day passed pleasantly, and after supper the young
man and Dan took a stroll up into the town to learn if any later news
had come in.
They had just gained the main street of the town when Dan saw before
him a figure that looked familiar. He quickened his pace, and soon
ranged up alongside of the man, who proved to be the half-breed, Hank
Stiger.
Stiger was partly under the influence of liquor, or otherwise he would
not have shown himself in Gonzales at that time, when the Indian raid
was still fresh in the settlers' minds. He glared angrily at Dan when
he saw the boy.
"Stiger, I want to have a talk with you," said Dan, with more firmness
than is usual in one of his age.
"What you want now?" demanded the half-breed.
"I want to know what you have done with my father's papers."
"What papers do you mean?"
"The papers you stole from my father's cabin while we were out after
the Indians."
"I was not near your house--I took no papers!" cried the half-breed,
fiercely. "Who says so tells a lie."
"I know you did take them, and unless you give them up I will have you
placed under arrest."
"Ha! don't you talk to Hank Stiger that way, or you will be sorry for
it." The half-breed's hand stole under his coat, and he showed the
handle of his hunting-knife. "Do you see dat?"
Dan sprang back, for he knew how treacherous the man before him could
be. But now Henry Parker stepped up.
"None of that, Stiger," he said, sharply, and placed his hand on the
handle of the pistol he carried in his belt.
"He wants to make trouble for me. He says I stole some papers," growled
Hank Stiger, sullenly.
"And I guess he is right, too," returned Henry. "If I understand the
matter, he has proof against you."
"Ha! did Big Foot tell----" Stiger broke off short, realising that he
was exposing himself.
"Yes, Big Foot told me everything," said Dan. "And you must give up
those papers, or take the consequence."
Hank Stiger's face grew as dark as a thunder-cloud.
"I'll pay off that Injun for it!" he cried. "I knew he wasn't to be
trusted, the skunk! But I ain't got no papers, never had 'em! This is a
put-up job to get squar' on account o' that deer," he continued, trying
to change the subject. "You got the deer, what more do you want?"
"I am not talking deer now,--I am asking for those papers,--and the
other things which were stolen," resumed Dan, doggedly. "What have you
done with them?"
"Find out fer yourself!" growled Hank Stiger, and turning swiftly, he
started on a run for the nearest corner.
"Stop! or I'll fire!" cried Henry Parker, as he drew his pistol, but
before he could make up his mind whether or not he had a right to fire
on the half-breed, Stiger was out of sight. Dan ran after him, and his
friend joined in the chase.
Stiger's course was toward the river, and having reached this, he
leaped into a canoe which was handy and began to paddle with all speed
for the opposite shore. A large lumber-raft was lying in midstream, and
this he kept as much as possible between himself and his pursuers.
"He's bound to get away if he can," observed Henry, as the pair gained
the bank of the Guadalupe almost out of breath.
"Here is another canoe--let us follow him in that," replied Dan.
Henry was willing, and they were soon on the river. Dan could paddle
well, and they made rapid progress around the raft and in the direction
Hank Stiger was taking.
Reaching the opposite shore at a point some distance below Gonzales,
the half-breed leaped into the bushes and made his way to a pine grove
farther away from the bank. The pursuers followed him to the point of
embarkation with ease, but here came to a halt.
"If it wasn't so dark we might follow his trail," observed Henry. "But
I can't see a thing under the trees."
"Here it is," came from Dan, who was on his hands and knees. "He went
into the pines. I'm going a bit farther," and he stalked off. Henry
remained behind to fasten the canoe, that the current might not carry
the craft off.
Dan had scarcely come up to the first row of pines when he saw
something moving over to his left. Satisfied that it was Stiger, he
sped in the direction. The half-breed saw him, and ran on.
"I've spotted him!" cried Dan to his friend. "Come on!"
"All right, I'm coming!" answered Henry.
On through the tall pines ran pursued and pursuers, until nearly
quarter of a mile had been covered. Dan was in front, with Henry close
behind.
"You are fools to follow me here!" roared Hank Stiger, as he came to a
halt. "Take that for your foolishness."
"Hide! he is going to fire!" exclaimed Dan, but before either he or his
friend could gain any shelter Hank Stiger discharged a pistol which he
carried. The bullet missed Dan, but struck Henry Parker across the
temple, and the young man went down, stunned and unconscious.
The unexpected turn of affairs made Dan's heart leap into his throat,
and he felt how imprudent both had been to thus expose themselves in
such an out of the way spot to a man in Stiger's condition. He drew his
own pistol, but the half-breed knew enough to dart out of sight behind
a thick clump of bushes.
"Henry, are you badly hurt?" questioned the boy, anxiously, but no
reply came back, and running to Parker, he found the young man flat on
his back and as still as death.
Never had Dan felt so badly as at this moment, for if his friend was
dead he felt that he would be more or less responsible for the murder.
He bent down and made a closer examination, and as he did this Henry
gave a deep shudder and opened his eyes for an instant.
"Thank God, he is alive!" burst from Dan's lips. Then, noticing the
blood trickling from Henry's temple, he bound up the young man's
forehead with his handkerchief.
In the meantime, Hank Stiger was making a détour, expecting to come up
behind Dan and surprise him. He had drank just enough to be utterly
reckless, and carried his pistol in his hand ready for another shot.
Providence saved Dan from the anticipated attack. While Stiger was
still two rods off, the boy happened to turn and catch sight of him.
His pistol was still in his hand, and, without stopping to think twice,
he fired on the half-breed.
The effect of the shot was curious, and the feat performed would be
hard to duplicate. The bullet from Dan's pistol struck the hammer of
Stiger's weapon, and while the pistol exploded and the ball sank into
the ground, the hammer was knocked off and hit the half-breed in the
cheek, inflicting an ugly wound. The bullet itself, having hit the
hammer, glanced downward and lodged in Stiger's leg, close to his
half-bent knee. The man gave a howl of pain and then fell flat.
In a moment Dan was ready for a second shot, but it was not needed.
Stiger's pistol was now useless, and as he could not stand up, because
of the intense pain in his knee, handling his knife was out of the
question. As he sat up, the boy faced him sternly.
"Up with your hands, Stiger," he said, sternly; and the hands went up,
and Dan was master of the situation.
CHAPTER XVI.
AFTER A MISSING MUSTANG.
"What are you going to do with me?" asked Hank Stiger, after a moment
of painful silence, during which Dan glanced toward Henry, to find his
friend reviving rapidly.
"You'll find out later, Stiger. I can tell you one thing, you've gotten
yourself in a pretty tight box."
"It wasn't my fault,--you forced the shooting," was the sullen
response. "Why didn't you leave me alone from the start?"
"Because I am bound to have those papers and the other articles you
stole, that's why."
"I took nothing, I swear it."
"Do you expect me to believe you,--after what has happened here, and
after that affair of the deer?"
At this Stiger was silent. He wanted to get up and rush at Dan, despite
the levelled pistol, but the wounded knee held him back. Had he been a
full-blooded Indian he would have suffered in silence, but, being only
a half-breed, and of poor Indian and white blood at that, he groaned
dismally.
"Dan!" The cry came faintly from Henry, who had slowly raised himself.
"Where--what--oh, I remember, now!" And he sank back again.
"It's all right, Henry; I've made Stiger a prisoner."
"A prisoner!" whined the half-breed. "Ain't I suffered enough already?
My leg is somethin' fearful!" and he groaned again.
"You brought it all on yourself, Stiger, so you need not complain to
me."
"I didn't, you----"
"I won't listen to any more explanations. Throw your knife over here,
and be careful you don't hit anybody with it."
The half-breed fumed and raved, but all to no purpose, and at last the
knife came over, and was followed by the broken pistol.
"Now don't you dare to move," went on Dan, and then turned his
attention to Henry. Not far away was a little brook flowing into the
Guadalupe, and here Dan procured some water with which he bathed his
friend's wound.
The departure from the town shore had been noted by several lumbermen,
and, having heard the pistol-shots, several came over to learn if a
fight was going on. By calling out, the lumbermen managed to locate our
friends and soon came up to them. They listened to Dan's tale with
close attention.
"We ought to go fer to string the half-breed up," was the comment of
one of the woodsmen. "We've got enough trouble on hand without allowin'
sech chaps to make more."
"Thet's jest the size on it," added another. "String him up on the
spot."
But Dan would not countenance this, nor would Henry, who had now fully
recovered, although the bullet had left an ugly scratch which he was
bound to wear to the day of his death. Finally a compromise was made
with Stiger, who offered to hobble down to the river, although scarcely
able to walk. The threat to hang him had rendered the half-breed
thoroughly sober.
The return to the town was made without incident, and at the local
lockup Dan told his story, and it was decided to keep Stiger a prisoner
for the time being. He was searched, and in one of his pockets was
found some small silver trinkets, which Dan at once identified as
belonging to his father. But no trace was there of the papers relating
to the land grant.
"But these trinkets prove that Stiger was the thief," said Dan. "I
would like you to keep him a prisoner until my father can come here and
make a regular charge against him." And so the matter was allowed to
rest. Stiger was in a rage, and vowed that he would surely get even
with Dan some day.
When Henry Parker arrived home his mother was much alarmed to find that
he had been shot. Yet beyond the shock the young man had suffered
little, and after having the wound properly dressed he felt as well as
ever.
"I might rather have gone off to the war," he grumbled. "Dan and I are
getting all the fighting by staying at home."
It was hardly daybreak when Dan started to return to the ranch. He
would not have gone back at all just then, only he knew Ralph would
grow anxious if he did not return. As soon as he could arrange it, the
youth had determined to ride over to where the army was encamped, to
tell his parent of the encounter with Stiger, and learn if Mr. Radbury
wished to take up the case.
Dan had not to take the trip alone, as two of the lumbermen were going
up the Guadalupe on business. As yet only a small portion of the Texans
had joined the army, many of the others having no idea that a regular
revolution was at hand.
"It won't amount to shucks," said one of the lumbermen, as the three
rode along the river trail. "We'll have a lot of meetings and a
scrimmage or two, and then Santa Anna will come over with a big army,
and our leaders won't dare to call their souls their own."
"I cannot agree with you," answered Dan. "Our folks have suffered too
much to turn back now."
"But we ain't got no army,--only a lot o' farmers and rancheros, and
blacklegs who have run away from the United States to escape justice.
Mexico has a finely trained lot o' soldiers."
"Well, the United States didn't have any trained army at the opening of
the Revolution," retorted Dan, warmly. "But we showed King George's men
a thing or two before we got through with them."
"Well, if we do fight 'em and obtain our liberty, what then?" put in
the second lumberman. "The politicians will run everything to suit
themselves. We won't have any more rights than we have now."
"Never mind, I think matters will be a good deal better," answered Dan.
"Anyway," he added, with a peculiar smile, "do you believe in giving up
your arms?"
"Not much!" answered both lumbermen, promptly. "That's a fool law."
"Then what are you going to do, if the greasers demand your guns and
pistols, as they demanded that cannon?"
This proved a clincher, and the lumbermen changed the subject. They
were for peace, but it may be as well to state here that, in the end,
they joined the army, and fought as nobly for liberty as did the
average Texan soldier.
Before the journey was half over, it had begun to rain, and by the time
the ranch home was reached, Dan and his companions were wet to the
skin. As it still poured down steadily, the lumbermen were glad to
avail themselves of the Radburys' offer to stay at the cabin for the
balance of the day.
"Hurrah for our side!" cried Ralph, when told of the battle at the
Mission Concepcion. "If they have a few more such fights, perhaps the
Mexicans will wake up to the idea that we have some rights they are
bound to respect."
He was glad to hear that Stiger had been jailed, and sorry that Henry
Parker had been wounded. "Henry can make a charge even if father
doesn't," he said.
Ralph and Pompey had had troubles of their own during Dan's brief
absence. Two prize mustangs, not yet broken in, had gotten out of the
corral near the cattle shed, and although the boy and the negro had
managed to round up one of the steeds, the other had persisted in
keeping just out of their reach.
"I tried to lasso him," said Ralph, "but I wasn't equal to it, and, of
course, Pompey knows nothing of a lasso."
"Well, we can go after him when the storm clears away," answered Dan.
Pompey had prepared a substantial dinner, and the balance of the day
passed off pleasantly enough. By morning the storm had cleared away,
and the lumbermen took their departure. Then Dan procured a lasso, and
he and Ralph mounted their steeds and set off on a search for the
missing mustang, which was a beauty, and which Mr. Radbury prized very
highly.
"He went off to the southwest," said Ralph, as the brothers rode away.
"Of course, there is no telling how far he ran. I suppose it will be a
good deal like looking for a needle in a haystack to locate him."
"Well, we can do our best, Ralph. I know father set a great store by
that white pony. He was thinking of breaking him in for his own use."
"I know it, and that is why I tried so hard to capture him. But I can't
get the hang of the lasso," and Ralph shook his head, for he had tried
to land the loop over the mustang's head at least a score of times.
"You'll learn in time. It's more the knack of it than anything else.
Come, let us hurry!" and Dan set off at a gallop. He was thinking
altogether of the mustang, and never dreamed of the other odd adventure
in store for him,--an adventure which was to make a soldier of him
almost before he was aware.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE GRASS FIGHT, AND WHAT FOLLOWED.
The victory at Concepcion, as was natural, greatly strengthened the
cause of the Texans, and immediately afterward the number of volunteers
in the army increased. Seeing this, Austin moved his command still
closer, and settled into a regular siege of San Antonio. The scouts,
under Colonel Bowie, surrounded the town, to give warning of the
approach of any reinforcements for General Cos, who remained within,
still barricading the streets and wondering how soon the revolutionists
would attack him.
In the meantime, a general meeting of citizens and political leaders
was held at San Felipe, and at this convention, as it was termed,
Austin was elected as a commissioner to seek aid in the United States.
This left Austin's place in the army vacant, and General Edward
Burleson, an old Indian fighter, was selected to fill the position.
General Cos was boxed up in San Antonio with a force estimated at from
twelve hundred to sixteen hundred men. Many of his soldiers belonged to
mounted companies, and it became a problem, not only how to feed the
men, but also how to feed so many animals. There were rations to hold
out for some time, but little forage. To make the matter still more
difficult for the Mexican commander, Bowie and others ordered all the
grass in the immediate vicinity of San Antonio burnt. This caused one
or two small fires among the huts on the outskirts of the town, and
came near to starting a panic.
At last General Cos felt that he must either have forage for his
soldiers' horses, or else slaughter them, and he hired bodies of the
Mexican farmers to go out, during the night, to gather such grass as
could be gotten within a reasonable distance of the town. These bodies
of men invariably went out under the protection of one or more
companies of cavalry.
The expeditions after forage brought on what was called the Grass
Fight. Among Bowie's scouts was an old frontiersman called Deaf Smith,
and one day when Smith was out he discovered a body of farmers and
cavalry, about a hundred strong. The panniers of the horses and mules
were stuffed with grass, but as the body was a long way off, Smith
mistook them for some troops come to reinforce General Cos, and
supposed the stuffed panniers to be filled with silver to pay off the
Bexar garrison.
Without waiting to make certain about his discovery, Deaf Smith rode
pell-mell into the camp of the Texans. "The reinforcements are coming!"
he shouted. "Ugartchea is here!"
"Ugartchea! Ugartchea!" was the cry taken up on all sides, and it was
not long before Colonel Bowie set off with a hundred of the best Texan
horsemen to intercept the supposed newcomers.
The Mexicans saw them approach, but it was too late to get back into
San Antonio, and while a few of the farmers managed to escape, the
Mexican cavalry took up a position in the bed of a dry creek. The
plight of those outside of the city was seen by those within, and
General Cos instantly despatched more cavalry to the relief, and also
two pieces of artillery.
The creek, which was in reality a deep gully, was overgrown on either
side with tall brush, and Bowie had some difficulty in bringing up his
command to a firing position. But some of the scouts could not be held
back, and rushing up they speedily laid several of the Mexicans low.
"Now then, fire on them!" shouted Bowie, when the proper range was
obtained; but the Texans had scarcely opened up, when the relief guard
of the Mexicans swung into position behind the Texans, and they found
themselves caught between two fires. They wheeled about, and charged
those behind them, who speedily scattered in every direction, leaving
their dead and dying behind them.
In the meantime, the main body of the Texan army was coming up, and,
arriving at the gully, they drove out the cavalry, killing a dozen or
more of them, and capturing many mules and horses, and a large quantity
of grass, the so-called "silver" which was supposed to fill the
panniers, and which caused many a laugh for long afterward. The loss to
the Texans was small.
In the midst of the conflict one of the officers dashed up to Amos
Radbury. "Lieutenant, several Mexicans are escaping in yonder
direction," he said, pointing with his sword. "You will take a
detachment of twelve men, and go after them."
"I will, major," answered the lieutenant, and saluted. He was soon on
the way, with Poke Stover, and eleven others, for Poke happened to be
near him when the order was given. The Mexicans they had been sent to
capture were four in number, and one of them looked like an officer of
considerable rank.
"I think we can ride them down, Poke," observed Lieutenant Radbury, as
he dashed over the prairies at the full speed of his mustang.
"Well, we kin give 'em a putty tough ride fer it, anyhow," drawled the
frontiersman.
"We must catch them, if possible, before they gain yonder timber land."
"Thet's so. If we don't, it won't be no easy work to locate 'em in the
brush."
The party of thirteen were all fair riders, but for once the number
seemed fated to be really unlucky. Less than quarter of a mile had been
covered when one of the mustangs, going at full speed, stepped into the
hole of some wild animal, and pitched headlong with a broken leg. The
rider behind the one to go down, pitched in on top of him, and in a
thrice there lay on the prairie a mustang so badly injured that he had
to be shot, and two men so bruised that further pursuit for them of the
Mexicans was out of the question.
"Halt!" cried Lieutenant Radbury, and brought the balance of his
command to a standstill. "Are you much hurt, Readwell?"
"I--I reckon not," was the answer, but when Readwell attempted to stand
up he found his foot and back badly strained.
"And you, Alton?"
"My left arm is bruised,--I don't know but what it is broken."
"The mustang is done fer," put in Poke Stover, after examining
Readwell's steed. "Might as well shoot him, and put him out of his
misery."
This was ordered by the lieutenant, and the command carried out on the
spot. The second mustang was slightly injured, but could still be
ridden.
"Both of you had better go back, on the one mustang," said Amos
Radbury. "And, Glenwood, you can go back with them, for fear they may
have trouble with other Mexicans who may be wandering about."
So it was arranged, and this brought the lieutenant's force down to ten
men. The two parties separated without delay, and those in pursuit of
the flying Mexicans went on as fast as before.
But the delay had given the enemy an advantage, and before the Texans
could come within good firing distance the four Mexicans reached the
timber. At the edge they came to a halt.
"They are going to fire on us, leftenant!" cried Stover.
"Down!" cried Amos Radbury, and the Texans had scarcely time to drop to
the sheltered sides of the steeds, a favourite trick with old
frontiersmen, when a volley sounded out, and the bullets whistled over
their heads. Another volley followed; then, as the Texans swept closer,
and fired in return, the Mexicans disappeared into the timber.
Ordinary soldiers would have hesitated about following the Mexicans
into the forest, but all of the Texans were expert in woodcraft, and
thought they could keep out of an ambuscade as well in the woods as out
of it.
"Stover, supposing you and Dilberry go ahead and reconnoitre,"
suggested the lieutenant. "I know I can trust you to keep out of
trouble."
"Certainly, I'll go ahead, if ye want me to," answered Poke Stover, in
his free and easy manner, and rode on with the other soldier mentioned.
As soon as they got into the thickets of the timber, they dismounted,
tied their steeds to a tree, and advanced on foot. In the meantime,
Amos Radbury spread out the balance of his party into a line fifty
yards long, extending from a deep ravine on the right to a steep hill
on the left. He felt that the Mexicans could not climb the hill very
well, for it was covered with large and loose stones, and to take their
ponies down into the ravine would be equally difficult.
The advance of Stover and his companion was necessarily slow, for they
had no desire to be picked off by some Mexican concealed behind a tree.
Yet they kept on for a dozen rods before finding any trace of the
enemy.
"The trail goes toward the ravine," said Stover, presently. "They are
following an old Comanche path."
"Right ye air," answered the other frontiersman. "Years ago, them air
Comanches had a village in this ravine, erbout four miles from hyer."
"I've heard tell on it, Dilberry, though I never sot eyes on it myself.
It war the home o' thet Bison Head, the wust of 'em as ain't dead yet."
Having made certain that the Mexicans had gone straight on for a goodly
distance, the two scouts so reported, and the entire party set off
along the ravine, which at some points was broad and shallow and at
others narrow and deep.
Suddenly the report of a gun rang out, coming from a point where the
ravine made an abrupt turn to the north. Several other reports
followed.
"They must be shooting at something," said Lieutenant Radbury. "But
they are not aiming at us, for no bullets have come this way, so far as
I can ascertain."
"Perhaps they are having a brush with some Indians," suggested another
of the party. "They may--Hello, what's this coming along the trail? A
white mustang, I declare, with a black blaze on his forehead. None o'
those greasers rode that animal, I'm certain on it."
"A white mustang!" cried Amos Radbury, and then, as the animal came
closer, he gave a start. "It's the same, I declare!"
"The same?" queried Poke Stover. "What do ye mean, leftenant?"
"That mustang belongs to me. I was trying to break him in when the call
to arms came. He must have gotten away from my boys. But what is he
doing away out here?"
That question could not be answered just then, and in another moment
the white mustang was out of sight. Then, as the firing ahead had
ceased, the movement forward was continued.
CHAPTER XVIII.
DAN COMES TO GRIEF.
"Well, this looks as if it was going to be a long-winded search."
"So it does, Ralph; but you must remember that a wild mustang who had
been shut up in a corral for a couple of weeks will feel very much like
stretching his legs when he gets out."
"We must have come at least eight miles."
"It's nearer ten."
"And we haven't seen the least sign of him."
"Oh, yes, we have; we discovered that trail."
"But we are not sure it was the mustang's."
"I take for granted that it was, for I do not believe any other pony
passed this way since it rained."
The boys had not gone on straight ahead, but in a grand semicircle,
until the footprints mentioned had been discovered. Now they were
riding over a broad patch of prairie land, with a belt of timber to the
north and another to the south.
"I wonder if there are any Indians in the vicinity," resumed Ralph, a
while later. "I won't care to fall in with some of those Comanches who
made it so hot for us at the cabin."
"Oh, they were chased a good many miles off, Ralph. Besides, they won't
dare to show up here while they know that all of our best fighters are
massing between Gonzales and San Antonio."
"I wonder how matters are going on at the front. I should think our
army would march on Bexar without delay."
"They don't want to make an attack until they are strong enough to
overcome General Cos's force. He may have considerable reinforcements
by this time."
So the boys talked and rode until noon was passed. Both were now
hungry, and coming to a pool in the prairie surrounded by
mesquite-trees and bushes, they drew rein and tethered their ponies,
and sat down to enjoy the midday meal they had brought along.
Pompey had packed for them a tempting hamper, and the boys remained
over the repast rather longer than anticipated. The sun shone bright,
and as there was no wind, the day was pleasant, even though late in the
season.
"I suppose some day all this territory will be built up with towns and
villages," remarked Dan, as he dug his knife-blade into the earth in a
meditative way. "And when it is, I wonder if the boys of that
generation will ever remember what a howling wilderness it was in our
generation."
"A few will, but not many," laughed Ralph. "We are too much of a
go-ahead people to do much looking back." The youngest Radbury leaped
suddenly to his feet. "What's that, Dan?"
The brother sprang up also, and gave a searching glance in the
direction Ralph pointed out.
"Unless I am greatly mistaken, it's the mustang."
"Just what I thought. He seems to be grazing just at the edge of the
timber. How had we best get at him?"
The matter was talked over for several minutes, and they came to the
conclusion to ride to the timber at some point below where the pony was
grazing and then work up behind him.
"Then, if he bolts, it will be for the prairie," said Dan. "That will
give me a chance to lasso him."
The timber was soon gained, and they skirted this with the silence of
Indians until within a hundred yards of the white mustang. Then the
older brother called another halt.
"Now you take the north side, and I'll keep to the south," said Dan.
"Have you got your lasso ready?"
Ralph had, and it was decided that he should make the first throw, but
not until Dan was prepared to make the second.
With great caution the two boys advanced to the point agreed upon. Then
they rode out to where the lassoes could be used freely.
In the meantime the mustang was grazing peacefully, utterly unconscious
of their presence in the vicinity. But now, as they drew still closer,
he stopped cropping the grass and raised his head as if to listen.
"Throw!" cried Dan, and the lasso left Ralph's hand with a whizzing
sound. A few seconds later Dan made his own cast.
As luck would have it, both landed over the mustang's head, but while
Dan's was drawn tight with great quickness, Ralph's remained loose, so
that in a twinkle the mustang shook it off, and then of course the line
tightened around Dan's lariat instead.
[Illustration: "'HOLD BACK!' YELLED DAN."]
"Hold back!" yelled Dan, as he saw Ralph sit bewildered in the saddle.
"Run off to the other side!"
The younger Radbury attempted to obey, but as quick as a flash the
mustang turned and rushed forward, bringing the lasso around Ralph's
own steed. Then came a snap of the lariat, and Ralph went down, with
the mustang on top of him.
All this took scarcely more time than to describe it, and now Dan found
himself holding the white mustang alone, with Ralph's lariat end
entangled in his own. Then off went the wild animal, kicking and
plunging in a desperate fashion, which even the tightened leather about
his neck did not appear to hinder. His course was straight for the
timber, and he went on dragging Dan's pony after him. It is true the
pony might have held back, but he was not well broken for such a
purpose, having participated in but few round-ups.
"Look out! You'll be killed!" yelled Ralph, as he struggled to get out
from under his pony. The wind had been knocked out of him, but
otherwise he was uninjured.
Dan scarcely heard him, so busy was he trying to bring the white
mustang to a halt. Soon he disappeared into the timber, and then Ralph
arose, mounted the pony once more, and came after him.
The white mustang did not enter the forest far before the lariat around
his neck began to hurt him. He tried to circle around several trees,
and thereby cut himself short to such an extent that he was in great
danger of choking to death.
"Hold my pony!" shouted Dan to Ralph, and slipped to the ground. The
free end of the lariat was passed around a tree and tied, and Dan
sprang forward toward the white mustang, who was now acting as if ready
to give up the battle.
"Easy now, easy," said Dan, soothingly, and watching his chance, he
hopped up on the mustang's back. Immediately the animal bucked and
plunged, trying his best to throw his rider. The lariat was depriving
him of his wind, and of a sudden he stopped short and trembled, as if
about to fall.
Not wishing to strangle the animal now he had caught him, Dan cried to
Ralph to come up and help hobble the steed, that he might walk but not
run. At the same time he continued to talk soothingly to the mustang
and patted him on the neck. Then, fearing he would breathe his last if
the lariat remained as it was, he drew his knife and cut the leather.
In a twinkle the whole manner of the mustang changed, and, before Ralph
could reach his big brother's side, the steed was off like a streak of
lightning, with Dan clinging fast to his neck. Over some low brush the
pair went, and then under some tall pines and out of sight.
"Hi! hi!" cried Ralph, but Dan had too much to do to call back to him.
On and on went the mustang, and the youth could neither stop him, nor
did he dare try to leap to the ground, for fear of a kick from one of
those flying hoofs. It was such a wild ride as Dan never forgot.
By instinct the white mustang seemed to know the best course to pursue,
and went on where the trees were high branched and tolerably far apart.
This was lucky for Dan, for had the limbs been low he must certainly
have been knocked off and killed. He bent as low as he could.
"Go it, if you must," he thought, grimly. "You'll get tired some time.
But I hope you don't go all the way to Bexar."
Fully two miles were covered, when the white mustang came out of the
woods at the edge of a ravine. He ran like the wind until the very edge
was reached, then stopped short all in an instant.
Dan was holding on with might and main, but no boy's grip could
withstand such a shock, and up flew his body, and over the pony's head
he sailed. Then he felt himself going downward, toward the bottom of
the ravine. Some brushwood scratched his hands and face, there followed
a great thump,--and then he knew no more.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE CAVE IN THE RAVINE.
When Dan came to his senses all was dark around him. The sun had set
over the timber in the west, and scarcely a sound broke the stillness
of the night.
For several minutes the youth could not imagine where he was or what
had happened. Then slowly the realisation of the events just passed
dawned upon his muddled brain.
He tried to pull himself together and sit up, but the effort was so
painful he was glad enough to give it up and rest just as he lay. The
brushwood had saved him from death, but it had not saved him from a
nasty fall on the flat rocks which rested at the bottom of the ravine
at this particular point.
"It must be at least two or three hours since I went over," he thought,
dismally. "I wonder what became of the mustang, and where Ralph and the
ponies are?"
He tried to see the face of the silver watch he carried,--an heirloom
from his mother,--but it was too dark, and he had to give it up. Then
he attempted to call out, but his voice was so feeble no one standing
fifty yards off would have heard it. And Ralph was miles and miles
away, hopelessly lost in his hunt after his missing brother.
Not a bone had been broken nor a muscle strained to any extent, yet it
was almost daybreak before Dan felt like getting on his feet, and in
the meantime he had fallen into a doze and dreamed all manner of
horrible dreams. When he awoke, his mouth was parched for water, and
his first move was in the direction of the wet portion of the ravine,
beyond the rocks.
As it was the fall of the year, the night had been cold, and after
procuring a drink he was glad enough to sit down again beside a fire
made of leaves and such small brush as was handy. He was now hungry,
but nothing was at hand to satisfy the cravings of the inner man. His
gun had been left behind, but in his belt still rested his
hunting-knife,--something he had taken to carrying constantly since the
brush with the Comanches.
Dan could not help but wonder what had become of Ralph, and wished that
he had some firearm by which he might discharge a shot as a signal.
Slowly the morning wore away, and by noon the lad felt that he must
make a move. "I'll get out of the ravine first," he thought, but this
was no easy matter, for the sides were steep and he was still too weak
to exert himself in climbing.
Presently he imagined that he heard, at a great distance, the firing of
a volley of shots. To make sure he was right, he laid on the ground and
listened. Soon the volley was repeated, and a number of single reports
followed.
"There is a fight on of some sort," he thought, but could not locate
the direction of the shots with any degree of accuracy. "I trust Ralph
is out of danger."
He walked along the ravine, looking for some convenient spot where he
might ascend to the level of the timber beyond, until he came to where
there was a split in the hollow. Here, in the centre of the ravine, was
a huge pile of rocks, overgrown with a tangle of vines and thorns,
which hid a cave of fair dimensions. In those days this cave was known
to the Indians as the Haunted Rock. It is said that many a Mexican
trader was lured there, only to be killed and robbed.
As Dan was passing the cave he saw, with much surprise, a Mexican
soldier leading two mustangs into the opening. Each saw the other at
the same time, and instantly the Mexican set up a shout in Spanish,
and, letting go of the horses, levelled a pistol at the boy's head.
Dan did not understand the Spanish, but he understood the motion of the
soldier.
"Don't shoot!" he cried. "I am unarmed!" And he held up his hands to
verify his statement.
"You surrender?" asked the Mexican, in broken English.
"I suppose I'll have to," answered Dan. "But what are you doing here,
and why do you wish to make me a prisoner? I am not a soldier."
At this the Mexican shrugged his bony shoulders and called out again in
Spanish, whereupon three other Mexicans showed themselves at the mouth
of the cave.
"Come in here, boy," said one of the three, who was evidently a
captain, by his uniform. "Are you alone?"
"I am," answered Dan, as he entered the mouth of the cave.
"Where are the soldiers?"
"What soldiers?"
"The rascally Texans who were after us."
"I know nothing of any soldiers, captain."
"You are telling me the truth?" And the Mexican captain turned a pair
of piercing black eyes on the youth.
"I am, sir; I have seen no soldiers for a week or more, and they were
nowhere about here."
Dan's frank manner apparently impressed the Mexican officer favourably,
for he breathed more freely. He paused for a moment, as if in deep
thought.
"What brought you here, boy?"
In a few simple words Dan told his tale. When he mentioned the white
mustang, two of the Mexicans smiled.
"I saw him," said one. "He was running like the wind, directly for
those soldiers, too."
"And who are the soldiers you speak about?" asked Dan.
"It is not for you to ask questions," answered the captain, abruptly.
"Sit down on yonder rock and keep quiet. A noise might betray us, and
then it might become necessary to put a bullet in you."
As there was no help for it, Dan walked still farther into the cave,
and sank down on the rock pointed out. He noted that there were but
four of the Mexicans, and that each had a mustang that seemed to be
much exhausted.
"I reckon I am worse off than I was before," was his mental comment,
after reviewing the situation. "These chaps are evidently in hiding,
and they won't let me go for fear of exposing them. Well, I sha'n't
stay any longer than I have to."
In the matter of eating, the Mexicans were as badly off as the youth.
"You have had nothing, eh?" said one. "Well, we are just as hungry, and
perhaps more so. It cannot be helped, and we must make the best of it."
"But we can't remain here and starve to death," insisted Dan.
At this the Mexican drew up his face into a scowl and turned away. To
comfort themselves, the men smoked cigarettes incessantly, being used
to the tobacco habit from childhood. Dan had as yet found no comfort in
the use of the weed.
While two of the Mexicans remained in the cave to care for the
mustangs, the others went out on guard, one stationing himself just
above the opening and the other below. The numerous rocks afforded both
excellent hiding-places.
From those in care of the mustangs Dan learned but little, yet, during
the Mexicans' talk, the youth managed to gain a bit of information
which led him to believe that there had been a battle, and the four had
become separated from their companions and had been pursued. The
Mexicans thought to remain in the cave until night, and then escape
under cover of the darkness.
As the hours went by Dan became more hungry, and with this empty
feeling came one of desperation. He must escape, be the cost what it
might.
"If only I could collar one of their mustangs, and get away on it," he
thought. "Perhaps I might find those soldiers and have the Mexicans
made prisoners."
The more he thought of this plan the more did it appeal to him, and
then he cast about for some means of putting it into operation.
The chance came shortly before sundown. A distant shot was heard, and
the two Mexicans in the cave hurried to join their companions, to learn
what it might mean. Dan had cast himself down as if asleep, and one of
the soldiers did not, therefore, pick up his gun as he hurried past the
entrance of the cave.
No sooner were the men out of sight, than Dan leaped upon the back of
the nearest mustang, and turned him straight for the entrance. He made
the animal do his best from the start, yet, as he passed the entrance
to the cave, he hung out from the saddle and managed to pick up the gun
that rested against the wall.
"He is escaping!" cried one of the Mexicans, in Spanish, and leaped in
front of the mustang. The next instant the horse knocked him flat and
galloped over his body.
The Mexicans were bewildered, for, on the brink of the ravine, one of
them had caught sight of several Texan soldiers in the distance. If
they fired on Dan, they would betray themselves, and, if they did not,
the youth would surely escape.
"After him!" cried the captain, and two of the soldiers made a dash for
the boy. But they might have as well tried to catch the wind, for the
mustang was fresh from his rest, and Dan made him do his level best.
Then along the ravine sped animal and boy, Dan riding as never before,
and expecting a shot at any moment. He knew not where he was going, and
hardly cared, so long as he made his escape from the Mexicans.
CHAPTER XX.
FLIGHT AND PURSUIT.
Lieutenant Radbury's party had come up to the ravine at a point
opposite to the cave, about half an hour before Dan attempted to make
his escape.
"I see nothing of the Mexicans here," he remarked to Poke Stover, as he
swept the ravine from one end to the other with his well-trained eye.
"No more do I see anything," answered the old frontiersman. "But they
may be behind yonder rocks, leftenant. If ye say the word, I'll climb
down and scout around a bit."
"There is a cave among yonder rocks," put in another of the Texans. "It
is called Haunted Rock by the Indians. The Comanches used to use it as
a meeting-place when they were out for plunder. I've often heard old Si
Bilkens tell about it."
"I have heard of such a cave," answered Amos Radbury. "If the Mexicans
knew of it, they might think it just the right sort of a hiding-place.
Yes, Poke, you can scout around. But be careful. They may be watching
for a shot."
The frontiersman nodded, to show that he understood, and went off
immediately on foot, it being impossible to go down the ravine's side
on mustang-back, no matter how sure-footed the animal might be.
The descent into the ravine took time, and Poke Stover was still some
distance from the cave's entrance when he heard a commotion among the
bushes and rocks.
"A mustang a-comin' this way," he muttered to himself. "And somebody
ridin', too. It must be one of them dirty greasers trying to git away.
I'll cut him short."
He raised his rifle, and stepped out into the open to get a better aim.
Then of a sudden his weapon dropped to his side.
"Dan! Dan Radbury! What in thunder are you doing out here?"
At first Dan did not hear the call, for the hoof-strokes of the mustang
made considerable noise on the rocks over which he was clattering. But
then the youth caught sight of the old frontiersman and his face beamed
with joy.
"Poke Stover! and is it really you?" he exclaimed.
"Yes. What are you doing here?"
"I just escaped from four Mexican soldiers, who are hiding in a cave up
the ravine."
"The greasers we are after!"
"Are you after them? They said something about being followed."
"Yes, I am after them, and so is your father, who is in command of our
party."
"Father! Where is he?"
"At the top of the ravine--in that direction," and Poke Stover pointed
it out. "He jest sent me out to do a bit o' scoutin'."
"To locate the greasers?"
"Yes."
"I can tell you all about them. They are at the cave on guard. I took
this mustang from them, and also this musket."
"Then thar won't be no need fer me to scout any more, Dan, and we might
as well join the rest," answered Poke Stover. "We must capture them
greasers."
"How did you come to go after them?"
Stover told the particulars as they were climbing out of the ravine,
Dan leading the mustang by the head. In a short while, the youth was
with his father.
Of course the parent was astonished to find his son in this wilderness,
so many miles from the ranch home, and Dan had to tell his story in
detail.
"I am glad you are safe," said Amos Radbury. "But what of Ralph?"
"I can tell you nothing of him, father."
"We saw the white mustang twice, but nothing of him," added Amos
Radbury, thoughtfully. And then he decided to go on a hunt for his boy
as soon as the affair of the four Mexicans was settled.
To the others Dan pointed out the exact location of the cave, and the
entire party drew within a hundred yards of the opening, without
exposing themselves. The Mexicans, also, kept out of sight.
"We are now eleven to four," said Amos Radbury. "I believe if they
understood the matter, they would surrender, rather than risk being
shot."
"If they won't surrender I know what you can easily do," returned Dan.
"And what is that?"
"Starve them out. They are all as hungry as bears,--and so am I, for
the matter of that."
"An excellent idea. But if you are hungry, here are rations in the
saddle-bags," and Dan was speedily supplied with sufficient food to
stay his hunger for the time being.
One of the party, who could talk Spanish fluently, was now ordered to
show a white handkerchief tied to a stick, and this he did, moving to
the very edge of the ravine for that purpose. At first, owing,
probably, to the darkness, the Mexicans did not see the flag of truce,
but at last the captain came forward, and demanded to know what was
wanted.
"We want you to surrender," said the Texan.
"We will not do so, and you will attack us at your peril," was the
Mexican's sharp reply.
"You are but four, while we number twelve."
"We will fight, even so, señor. A Mexican never surrenders."
"What if we starve you out?"
"You cannot do that. Still, you may try it, if you wish," continued the
_capitan_ hurriedly. If the Americans tried starving them out, it
would give them time in which to perfect some plan for escape.
The talk continued for several minutes, and then the Texan came back
with the information that the enemy would agree to nothing.
"He's willing to be starved out," went on the ranger. "But I think he
wants the chance to get away in the darkness."
"We will draw closer to the cave as the darkness settles down,"
answered Amos Radbury. This was the first time, as an officer, that he
had been sent out on a commission, and he was resolved not to fail.
The night came on swiftly. Evidently a storm was brewing, for not a
star lit up the heavens.
"We'll catch it, in more ways than one, soon," said Stover to Dan,
suggestively.
The Texans had had a small fire, but now this was deserted, and the
party moved down into the ravine on foot.
Just as the first rain of the coming storm began to fall, one of the
men of the party set up a shout.
"There they go!"
He was right. The Mexicans were making a mad dash for liberty up the
ravine, the four men on three mustangs.
"Fire at them!" ordered Lieutenant Radbury, and instantly half a dozen
shots rang out. None of the enemy was hit, but two of the mustangs
pitched headlong, carrying three of the riders down with them. The
fourth Mexican, the captain, continued on his way, forcing his steed
along at a greater pace than ever.
Before those on the ground could rise, they found themselves
surrounded.
"Surrender!" cried Lieutenant Radbury. "Surrender, or we must shoot you
down!"
"I surrender!" cried one of the Mexicans. "No shoot me!" And he held up
his hands.
But the others were game, so to speak, and, rising, they discharged
their muskets, and continued their flight on foot. They had scarcely
gone a dozen steps, when the Texans opened fire again, and one dropped,
shot through the heart. The second man was wounded, but kept on and
disappeared up the side of the ravine, in a thick pine brake, where all
was now pitch dark.
"Make that man a close prisoner!" shouted Lieutenant Radbury to two of
his followers. "Come on!" and he dashed away after the Mexican captain.
Several, including Poke Stover and Dan, followed him, while others went
after the fellow in the pine brake.
It was largely a go-as-you-please hunt, for, as mentioned before, the
army was not yet sworn in, and every man felt that he could do about as
he wished.
Before leaving the Mexican who had surrendered, Lieutenant Radbury had
appropriated his horse, consequently he readily outdistanced those who
followed. But he could not catch his man, although he got close enough
to note that the fellow left the ravine where there was a cut upward,
and took to the timber on the north.
"We can't follow him in this darkness," said Amos Radbury. "We will
have to wait until morning. It is raining now, and probably there will
be an easy trail to follow."
They returned to the others, and then the entire party went into camp
in the cave the Mexicans had just vacated, the horses being also
brought in, to keep them out of the storm, for it was now raining in
torrents. A fire was kindled and a warm supper prepared.
"Two out o' four," declared Poke Stover. "That wasn't so bad, after
all."
The captured Mexican was questioned, and said the missing officer was
Captain Arguez, from Santa Cruz.
"He belongs to a most noble family," said the prisoner. "He will never
give up."
"He will if I lay my hands on him," said Amos Radbury, quietly.
Both father and son were much worried over Ralph, and wondered what had
become of him. It was agreed that while looking for Captain Arguez they
should hunt for the boy also.
CHAPTER XXI.
WHAT HAPPENED TO RALPH.
"I'm lost, and that is all there is to it!"
Ralph sat on the back of his mustang the picture of dismay. He had
tried to follow his big brother and had failed, and had spent the night
on the bank of the ravine, but at a point several miles from the cave.
Ralph was not nearly as well versed in woodcraft as his big brother,
and he hardly knew how to turn or what to do. All about him was one
vast wilderness, and the silence and loneliness made him shiver in
spite of himself.
"If I only knew what had become of him," he said, over and over. "But
perhaps he is dead!" And the tears started to his eyes.
He had eaten nothing since the evening before, but he was too worried
now to satisfy the cravings of his stomach. He had his own mustang and
that of Dan with him, and they were feasting on the rich grass close at
hand. Procuring a drink at a stream near by, he watered the animals and
set forth once again on the hunt.
The day drifted by swiftly, and Ralph found neither Dan nor the way out
of the belt of timber. He was now weak from so much travelling, and was
compelled to rest and partake of the scant lunch still left in the
hamper Pompey had provided.
As night came on so did the storm, and with the first fall of rain he
sought shelter under some overhanging rocks near the top of one side of
the ravine.
It was anything but a pleasant position, and no wonder Ralph wished
himself safe at home again.
The storm increased until the rain came down in a deluge, forming a
good-sized stream in the basin of the ravine. Ralph was thankful that
there was but little thunder and lightning.
Having found a dry place in a corner of the rocks, he was on the point
of falling into a doze when a clatter not far off aroused him.
"It must be Dan," he thought. "Dan! Dan!" he cried, starting up. "Is
that you?"
At the sound of his voice the clatter ceased, and only the violence of
the storm broke the stillness. Then Ralph called again, that his
brother might not go astray.
"Who calls?" The voice was a strange one, and the words were spoken
with a Spanish accent. Ralph fell back in dismay, but it was too late,
and soon the newcomer showed himself, riding a jaded steed, and
carrying a long horse-pistol in his hand.
"Ha, boy, are you alone?" demanded the man, who was none other than
Captain Arguez.
"I am," answered Ralph.
"And what brought you here?"
"I was out looking for a lost mustang, and missed my way."
"Ha, that is what the other boy told me!" muttered Captain Arguez, half
savagely.
"The other boy? Then you have seen my brother?"
"Yes."
"Where is he now?"
"I cannot tell you. He ran away, taking one of my soldier's mustangs."
"But I don't understand," stammered Ralph. "Are you a Mexican army
officer?"
"I am."
"And Dan was with you?"
"I think he fell in with us by accident, and he got away just as we
were having a brush with some of your accursed Americans." The Mexican
captain looked around suspiciously. "You are quite sure you are alone?"
"Yes, señor."
"You have two ponies."
"One belongs to my brother. He got on the white mustang,--the one that
ran away,--and that is the last I saw of him. You have no idea where he
is now?"
"Probably with the Texans who attacked my party."
"And where are they?"
Captain Arguez's brow grew dark. "You are asking too many questions for
a mere boy," he growled. "I do not know where they are, nor do I care,
so long as they do not bother me any more," and in this he spoke the
exact truth. He cared nothing for his men, and wished only to get back
to San Antonio in safety.
The Mexican had had nothing to eat throughout the day, and was glad
enough to avail himself of what little was left in the hamper. Then he
put his mustang beside the others, and made himself as comfortable as
possible near Ralph.
"Do you know the way to Bexar?" he demanded.
Ralph shook his head. "I don't know the way anywhere; I am totally
lost."
"From whence do you come?"
"From the Guadalupe River, at least thirty or forty miles from here."
"Then I must be almost as far from Bexar?"
"Yes; perhaps farther."
"It is too bad! I was foolish. But let that pass, what is done cannot
be undone."
Captain Arguez had relapsed into Spanish, so Ralph did not understand
his last words. He remained silent, wondering what the officer would
say next. But instead of talking, the Mexican rolled a cigarette, and
began smoking vigorously.
Ralph was sleepy, and in spite of his repeated attempts to keep awake,
he soon dozed off, and then fell into a sound slumber, from which he
did not rouse up until daylight.
The captain was asleep, snoring loudly, and with a half-smoked
cigarette between his fingers. At first Ralph thought to leave without
disturbing him, but no sooner had the boy risen to his feet than the
Mexican opened his eyes and stared about him.
"So it is morning?" he muttered. "Very good. Let us be on our way."
"I do not know which way to go," returned Ralph.
"That is easily answered, boy. You will go with me."
"With you?"
"Yes. I am lonely and want company."
"But you are going to San Antonio de Bexar."
"You are right. It is an ancient Mexican town, and there you will be
quite safe."
"But I don't want to go there,--I want to go home."
"You will be better off with me; anyway, you must come on. If I let you
out of my sight, and you fall in with those Americans, you will betray
me to them. Come, we must lose no time."
Ralph attempted to argue, but the Mexican officer would not listen, and
soon they were in the saddle, riding side by side, and with the extra
mustang behind. Captain Arguez had noted how the water was flowing in
the ravine, and now he crossed the hollow, and struck out down the
water-course, but on the opposite side to where the Texans had
encamped.
It must be confessed that Ralph felt more downhearted than ever. It was
true he had wished for company, but this Mexican was not desirable, and
the thought of being taken to the fortified town filled him with
dismay.
Yet there was no help fo
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