Oscar Gleeson the cowboy, who appeared at such a timely for Avon Burnet, when he was hard pressed by his Comanche pursuer, took the young man on his mustang behind him, as the reader will recall, and set out for the camp, several miles distant.
Despite the fears of the youth for the safety of his friends in the cabin, the veteran ranchman was more concerned for the fifty-odd cattle that had chosen to stampede themselves, and were at that moment dashing over the prairie for no one could tell where.
But inasmuch as the captain had sent for help, it must be given, regardless of other matters, and the easy swing of the mustang continued until the two arrived at the fire that had been in a small valley, where the provision was stationed with the other animals tethered near, ready for the start that was set for an early hour the next morning.
Most of the men had stretched themselves out in the wagon to sleep, for a hard and campaign was before them, in which they were likely to be compelled to keep their horses for fifteen or twenty hours at a stretch, changing them when necessary and snatches of as chance presented.
But the unaccountable stampede of a portion of the had roused all, and, at the moment “Ballyhoo,” as he was known to his friends, up, preparations were under way for a general start after the absent ones.
“Where’s Madstone and Shackaye?” asked Gleeson, looking down in the faces of the group, dimly shown in the firelight, and noticing that two of their number were missing.
“They started out for the cattle a little while ago,” replied one of the ranchmen, “thinking as how you might not be able to manage them.”
“I’d fetched ’em back all right,” replied 169Gleeson, “if it hadn’t been for some other business that turned up.”
“What’s that?”
“The reds are down at the cabin raising the ; a lot of ’em got after Baby here, and I had to drop one, and then take him on my hoss and bring him along with me.”
“What was he doing out at night on foot?” was the natural of another of the cowboys.
“Wal, he was putting in the tallest kind of running, when I set eyes on him; if he had kept it up, I don’t believe I would have been able to him myself.”
This remark caused several of the grinning ranchmen to turn toward Avon, who had slipped off the horse and laughed as he made answer:
“I got into the worst scrape of my life,” he explained, “and it would have gone hard with me if Ballyhoo hadn’t turned up just as he did. The reason I was abroad was because Uncle Dohm thought it best I should come to camp after you fellows.”
“What’s the matter with him?” asked one, who, despite the brief explanation already given, could not understand how it was their leader and his family were in special danger, even if their home was surrounded by Comanches.
“The folks could stand them off for a week, or month, if they had water and provisions, if it wasn’t for one thing; the roof of the cabin is as dry as tinder, and the captain knows they intend to set fire to it. If they do, nothing can save the folks, for the building will burn down before we can get there.”
This was putting a new face on matters, and the ranchmen realized that more serious work was required of them than rounding up the strayed cattle. Captain Shirril was too brave a man to feel needless alarm, and the fact that he had sent for help was proof that there was urgent need of it.
Two of the party were gone and might not be back for several hours. That, however, was of no account, since, including young Burnet, seven were left, and not one of them would have hesitated, with his companions, to 171attack a party of Comanches two or three times as numerous as that which had laid siege to the captain’s cabin.
These men were armed with Winchester, revolvers, and knives, they had no superiors as horsemen, they were accustomed to the rough out-door life, and it may be said that all welcomed the chance of a stirring brush with the red men that had been in their vicinity so long, but who took care to avoid anything in the nature of a fair stand-up fight.
There were horses for all, including Avon Burnet, and, in a very brief space of time, the men were in the saddle and heading toward the home of their leader.
It would be hard to find a company of cowboys or plainsmen whose members are not known by names, generally based on some personal . Thus young Burnet, as we have stated, was nearly always addressed as “Baby,” because of his youth. Oscar Gleeson, one of the most and famous cowmen of the Southwest, was addressed as “Ballyhoo,” for the reason that, 172whenever he indulged in a shout or loud call, he used that .
Hauser Files, the associate of Gleeson, once took part in a game of baseball in San Antonio, during which he received the sphere on the point of his nose. He withdrew in disgust from the amusement, and was always known thereafter as Short Stop.
Gleeson and Files were between thirty and forty years of age, but Burrell, from the lowlands of Arkansas, had rounded his half-century of existence, acquiring during the journey such a that he was known as Old Bronze. Andy Wynwood, from the same State, was younger. One of his most stirring related to the manner in which he escaped hydrophobia, after being bitten by a rabid wolf. He claimed that the only thing that saved him was the use of a madstone. Whether he was mistaken or not is not for us to say, but there was certainly no mistake about the origin of the name of Madstone, which clung to him forever .
Antonio Nunez, the Mexican, was the “Greaser,” Zach Collis from New Mexico, who was also more than fifty years of age, was “Rickety,” because of a peculiarity in his gait, while George Garland was “ George,” for no other reason than that he was born in the State of New Jersey.
The remaining member of Captain Shirril’s party was Shackaye, a Comanche Indian, about a year older than Avon Burnet, concerning whom we shall soon have something to say further.
Captain Shirril was right when he expressed his belief that the arrival of his friends would be in the nature of one of those wild western , ............