“The reds are down at the cabin raising the mischief; 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 query 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 overhaul 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 171 attack a party of Comanches two or three times as numerous as that which had laid siege to the captain’s cabin.