WHITEY IS MISSING
Dusk had begun to settle upon the Bar O ranch when the riderless Monty came into the ranch-yard and trotted up to the corral gate. The absence of the boys had not been noticed, for it was no unusual thing for them to remain out even long after dark. But when Bill Jordan saw Monty come in alone, he at once sent for Mr. Sherwood, who came in haste, and the other members of the outfit, among whom were Walker and his companion, gathered about also.
"This here Monty horse just come in without your boy!" said Bill, with evident concern in his voice. "I reckon we better send out all hands an' see what's happened. Mebbe the' ain't nuthin' happened—Injun was with Whitey, but I don't like the looks o' this."
"Did any of you men see the boys?" asked Mr. Sherwood, anxiously.
"Me an' Hartley seen 'em," said Walker. "They was way off near the branch an' was headed in the direction of the Cross an' Circle, tho' I don't cal'clate they was goin' there. Me an' Hartley headed 'em off, an' questioned 'em, an' they said they was just takin' a ride. I tol' 'em they better keep away from the Cross an' Circle an' not to git off 'n the ranch. It's a cinch they're off that way!"
As Walker and one or two of the other men were about to start, Bill Jordan called a halt. Turning to the men, he said—
"Let ever'body drop what they's a doin' an' come along. Better take yer guns, fer the's no tellin' what kind o' mischief them two's got mixed into. Spread out fan-shape, an' keep within' hailin' distance. Don't over-look nuthin'."
Within less time than it takes to tell it, every available man on the Bar O ranch was in the saddle and headed in a north-westerly direction. It would have been impossible to back-trail Monty, even in daylight; but in the present light, it was out of the question; and the only logical method was to go to where the boys had been last seen. Naturally, Walker and Hartley led the searching party, Mr. Sherwood keeping by the side of Bill Jordan, who was really in command.
"What do you make of it, Jordan?" Mr. Sherwood asked, a shade of anxiety coming over his face.
"Why, Boss, it prob'ally ain't nuthin', much—horse might 'a' got scared an' throwed him, tho' 'f thet was the case, 't looks as tho' Injun might 'a' ketched him—but mebbe not. 'Tain't really much good spec'latin', fer any one of a dozen things could 'a' happened. The's one thing I bin studyin' 'bout an' I hope it ain't thet."
"What do you mean?" asked Sherwood.
"Well," said Bill, "you mebbe'll remember when yo' an' me was talkin' 'bout thet Cross an' Circle outfit, after Ross done paid us a visit, I took notice thet Whitey was almighty interested in what we wuz sayin', an' fer thet reason I took yo' off to one side where he couldn't hear. 'Taint altogether out 'n reason thet he an' thet Injun concluded to do a little scoutin' aroun' on the'r own account. I wouldn't want 'em to get tied up with no rus'lers." Bill obviously did not want to alarm Mr. Sherwood unnecessarily, but there was no doubt that he thought the situation serious.
"You mean the Cross and Circle people?" asked Mr. Sherwood.
"Well, I ain't quite sayin' thet," said Bill, "but I got idees!"
"You think," said Mr. Sherwood, after a pause, "that if they really got anything on the rustlers, or interfered with them in any way, that they might—put the boys out of the way?" And he looked apprehensively at Bill.
"Mebbe not quite thet," said Bill, "but they might make it all-fired uncomfortable fer them two kids."
Mr. Sherwood did not reply, and for several miles the men rode over the rolling prairie in a gradual ascent toward the foot-hills of the mountains. Fortunately a bright moon gave sufficient light to make their progress easy and rapid. At intervals the men fired shots into the air and hallooed; but there was no answering shot or call.
The party finally arrived at the branch where the trail of the cattle had been lost, and Bill Jordan called the men together for a consultation. Here it was obvious that there must be a division of their forces; and although he had no logical reason that he could have advanced, Bill felt that their course lay, in general, toward the Ross ranch. Call it intuition, or a "hunch," or what you will, it was strong within him, and he determined to follow it. Often a plainsman has nothing else to guide him—he must rely upon intuition alone—and it is surprising how often it proves to be true. And so it was decided that part of the outfit should ride down the east bank of the river toward the Cross and Circle ranch, and the others, under Bill, should approach it along the left bank.
If the Ross outfit offered nothing else, Bill made up his mind that he would question the men and get any information in regard to the boys that they might possess. Accordingly, six or seven of the men under Walker, who had ridden herd in that section for many weeks and was thoroughly familiar with every detail of it, took the east side of the stream; and the others, under Bill, swam their horses to the other side, and soon were under way toward the Cross and Circle.
Bill gave orders that as the two parties got near the Ross ranch, they were to preserve quiet, and look the situation over before making known their presence.
At the first movement that Whitey made in the hay, Ross had drawn his gun; but when he saw the boyish face as it looked into his, he let his arm drop to his side; but as the boy started to scramble down from the hay-rick, Ross grabbed him by the collar and held him securely, taking his rifle from him roughly and jerking him to his feet.
"It's only me, Mr. Ross," said Whitey, as he stood before the rancher. "I was riding out by the river and discovered the cave and came in to explore it. I didn't mean any harm, but when I heard the men coming, I hid in the hay."
"Oh, you did, did you!" sneered Ross, with rising anger, as Crowley and the other men crowded around. "You're thet young Sherwood kid, ain't ye?"
"Yes," said Whitey, coolly, "my name is Sherwood."
"Well," said Crowley, menacingly, as he faced Whitey and glared at him, "I reckon your name is 'Mud' from now on! What business had you to come snoopin' 'round here an' comin' into private tunnels an' things like that?"
"I didn't know anything about your tunnel being private, and I don't see any harm in coming into it anyway. You often come over onto our land. I've seen you, myself."
"Where's that little Injun skunk thet travels 'round with you?" asked Ross. "Wasn't he with yo'? Thet was his hoss we got in the ranch-yard."
"Oh, Injun lets me ride his horse wherever I want to," said Whitey, and this appeared to satisfy the men that Whitey was alone.
It was evident that Whitey wasn't going to scare easily, and a problem was presented to Ross and his men. They did not know how much Whitey had seen or heard; to let him go would be hazardous, and to keep him, they knew would be perhaps equally dangerous. Ross and Crowley consulted together, a little apart from Whitey and the others, but in a moment one or two of the men joined them. Whitey stood looking innocently about and apparently unconcerned; but he was really much disturbed. He did not fear for himself, for he felt that the gang would scarcely dare kill him; but Injun's case was different. Pedro was very much in evidence, and he was menacing enough even toward Whitey. What his attitude would be if he got hold of Injun left little to conjecture. And so Whitey determined to divert any suspicions the gang might have as far from Injun as possible.
Some of the men were for doing away with Whitey at once, on the theory that "dead men—or boys either—tell no tales." But Ross and Crowley were not inclined to do this, just yet, and Ross told the men to "go slow." He determined to find out first how much Whitey knew.
"Was yo' here when we was brandin' our cattle?" asked Ross, taking the boy roughly by the shoulder.
"I suppose you were branding some cattle," answered Whitey; "but I was back in the hay. Let go of my shoulder! You haven't got any right to hold me that way!"
Whitey made a movement as though to draw his revolver from his hip-pocket, but Ross seized his arm and wrenched the little pearl-handled .22 away from him. "Gimme thet thing!" Ross yelled. "What d'ye mean by tryin' to draw this here pop-gun on me? Hey? I'll hold you a good deal tighter 'n that 'fore I git thro' with ye!" he snarled, shaking Whitey violently. "Yo' shut yer trap an' give a civil answer when y're spoke to, er I'll put ye where the dogs won't bite ye!"
"Let me tend to him, Boss," said the tall man who had come with Ross to the Bar O ranch; "I got a way of handlin' kids like him," and he advanced as though to take hold of Whitey.
Before Ross or Crowley could interfere, the tall man reached for Whitey and the latter, not waiting for or relying upon their assistance, parried the man's lead, and stepping in close to him, planted a severe straight right-hand punch in the man's stomach that doubled that gentleman up.
"You let me alone, you big sheep-stealing jail-bird!" yelled Whitey. "I know you, Mister 'One-Card' Tucker, and I tell you right now that if you put your hand on me, Bill Jordan will tend to you, and tend to you right—like he did before—at San Quentin!"
This whole performance was a bomb-shell in the Ross camp. While they were all astonished at the promptness and vigor and skill with which Whitey had delivered the punch that doubled up Tucker, the fact that the boy was familiar with the man's record, and that Jordan had undoubtedly recognized him on the occasion of the visit to the Bar O, created considerable consternation. The next few minutes, however, were occupied in quelling the outraged Mr. "One-Card" Tucker.
"Lemme git at him! I'll kill thet little pizen pup!" howled Tucker, who, as soon as he got his breath, had made an effort to draw his revolver; and there is no doubt that Whitey would have fared badly if Ross and Crowley had not grabbed the man and taken the gun away from him, after considerable difficulty.
"Gimme that gun," yelled Ross as he grappled with the infuriated Tucker. "Ain't you big enough to handle a boy without that? Any more o' that stuff an' I'll wring your neck!"
The laughter of several of the men over the fact that the big man had been doubled up by a fourteen-year-old boy did not tend to soothe Mr. Tucker's feelings. It was of course obvious that in a bout of fisticuffs with Tucker, Whitey would have had no chance; but he was a husky boy and had delivered the blow on exactly the right spot—the solar plexus—and it really doesn't take a very hard blow there to cause a man considerable annoyance.
But the affair brought up a new complication; there could be no doubt, now, that the head of the Bar O outfit must have some suspicions about the personnel of the Cross and Circle. Had this knowledge come to Ross at any other time, he would probably have publicly discharged Tucker, and disclaimed any knowledge of his character when he hired him. But it was a trifle late to adopt this course now. Furthermore, it would be most unwise to let any very great harm happen to Whitey; he must, of course, be held a prisoner so that he could give no information to the Bar O people, but to murder him in cold blood was taking too much of a chance, even in a desperate situation like this. Ross knew, too, that Whitey's continued absence from the Bar O ranch would cause an immediate and exhaustive search to be made for the boy, and he was in no position to stand anything like that. Quite a dilemma—he didn't dare keep Whitey, and he didn't dare let him go!
Of the two evils, the former seemed the lesser, and he and Crowley determined to keep the boy until such time as they could get rid of the "counterfeit" cattle, and, in a way, "put their house in order."
In fact Ross had great confidence in the secrecy of the underground chamber. There was very little chance that any one would discover it at the river—not one in a thousand; and in the house above the entrance to it was most cleverly concealed, so that even a careful examination might take place without its existence being even suspected. The ranch was apparently without a cellar, as could be seen from the outside. But it was built almost against the high and rocky cliff on one side, and it was at this point that the entrance to the subterranean chamber was gained.
In the living-room of the ranch there stood a large wardrobe in which were hung various articles of clothing, as well as lariats and other ranchmen's equipment. The wide doors of this wardrobe were usually open and a full view of the interior afforded to any one who entered the room. This very fact would have served to divert suspicion from that direction even had the searcher been aware that there was a chamber below. In the back of this wardrobe was a door, with invisible hinges, that opened onto a stairway leading down to the chamber.
The lock that operated the door was controlled by one of the hooks that were apparently fastened onto the back of the wardrobe for the purpose of hanging clothes upon it, but also answered the purpose of a door-knob.
When the hook was turned three times to the right, the catch of the lock was released and the door, which was really the back of the wardrobe, swung back and revealed the steps. The lock was a spring-lock, and was opened from the cavern side by the ordinary knob that operates such locks. The cavern was really not under the house at all, but to one side of it; and thus sounding the floors would reveal nothing hollow underneath.
Though the house itself, as used by the former owner, was nothing out of the ordinary and almost exactly like many of the other houses that were plentiful in that section, yet under the Ross regime it had been made into a veritable fortress, although this was not particularly noticeable from the outside. The windows had been barred sufficiently close to prevent a man from getting in or going out; and on the inside were iron shutters with loop-holes in them. Through these holes a rifle could be thrust and aimed, with little danger that the user of it would be hit by a bullet from the exterior.
The doors were of heavy planks, and were fitted with double bars which, when in place, would make the forcing of the doors a difficult matter. And, in case things got too warm, the cave offered a refuge, and the tunnel to the river provided a means of escape. Altogether, it looked like a pretty safe place to carry on such a business as the Cross and Circle was engaged in.
But in all these calculations, Ross was reckoning without Injun! That young man was destined to prove quite a factor in the upsetting of some very well-laid plans.