CHAPTER XII.
Danger in the Air—The Choice of a Captain—An Effectual Sarcasm—Going Lame—"The Heathen Chinee"—A Military Engineer without a Commission—No Ventilation—Smothering like Rats in a Hole—The Monetary Surprise—Two Red-skins—Leaving their Guns Outside—Trapped—"The Heathen Chinee" once more—Some Quiet Talk.
The next two or three weeks passed, to all appearance, quietly enough. There was, however, an unpleasant feeling in Susanville and around Honey Lake, of danger in the air. Perhaps, this feeling was not wholly unpleasant. The Rangers had now been idle for a tolerably long time. That is to say, there had recently been no positive Indian troubles.
However, the Deep Hole Spring murder had sounded the preparatory note.
Not long afterwards the gathering storm broke on us. A large stock of cattle belonging to Bill Long and Allen Wood had been in the charge of five good and trusty Buccahros or herdsmen, at the upper end of the valley. But red cunning, in this case, baffled white honesty. One dark night, three hundred head of stock were driven off; and in the morning the herdsmen found themselves without any herd to look after. At the time when the intelligence reached it, I was in Susanville. In less than an hour after we heard the facts, the Rangers, with the exception of three, were in the saddle, and on their way to Emmerson's Ranch, from which the cattle had been driven. Two of the three we picked up on the road there. The third overtook us, long before we had arrived at the spot where our services were required.
About fifty volunteers had collected at the Ranch, when we reached it. They were occupied in the momentous duty of choosing a captain, and appeared to find no small difficulty in making their selection. As soon as Harry Arnold appreciated this difficulty, he approached me with an air of very far profounder respect than he had ever before exhibited to me, and raising his hand to his forehead in soldier-like style, said with great gravity:
"Captain! Don't you think we had better take the trail? They won't have chosen their commanding officer until—"
"The Day hof Judgment!" broke in Brighton Bill, with an oath.
"And after that," continued Harry with the same imperturbable seriousness, "they will have to elect a Lieutenant, a Sergeant, and—"
"'Alf ha dozen Horderlies!"