Slipping the bridle from the sorrel, he turned the animal loose, and, removing his coat and hat, laid them with the saddle. Then to the girl on the pony he said sharply, “Go on, Sammy. Why don’t you go on? Don’t you see how you’re losin’ time? Them devils will do for Dad Howitt like they done for old man Lewis. Your father’s the only man can stop ’em now. Ride hard, girl, and tell Jim to hurry. And—and, good-by, Sammy.” As he finished, he spoke to her horse and struck him such a blow that the animal sprang away.
For a moment Sammy attempted to pull up her startled pony. Then Young Matt saw her lean forward in the saddle, and urge the little horse to even greater speed. As they disappeared down the road, the giant turned and ran crashing through the brush down the steep side of the mountain. There was no path to follow. And with deep ravines to cross, rocky bluffs to descend or scale, and, in places, wild tangles of vines and brush and fallen trees, the trip before him would have been a hard one even in the full light of day. At night, it was almost impossible, and he must go like a buck with the dogs in full cry.
When Sammy came in sight of her home, she began calling to her father, and, as the almost exhausted horse dashed up to the big gate, the door of the cabin opened, and Jim came running out. Lifting his daughter from the trembling pony, he helped her into the house, where she sobbed out her message.
At the first word, “Wash Gibbs,” Jim reached for a cartridge belt, and, by the time Sammy had finished, he had taken his Winchester from its brackets over the fireplace. Slipping a bridle on his horse that was feeding in the yard, he sprang upon the animal’s back without waiting for a saddle. “Stay in the cabin, girl, put out the light, and don’t open the door until I come,” he said and he was gone.
As Sammy turned back into the house, from away down in Mutton Hollow, on the night wind, came the sound of guns.
CHAPTER XVII.
WHAT HAPPENED AT THE RANCH.
It was after midnight when Mr. Howitt was rudely awakened. The bright moon shining through the windows lit up the interior of the cabin and he easily recognized Young Matt standing by the bed, with Pete, who was sleeping at the ranch that night, near by.
“Why, Matt, what is the matter?” exclaimed the shepherd, sitting up. He could not see that the big fellow’s clothing was torn, that his hat was gone, and that he was dripping with perspiration; but he could hear his labored breathing. Strong as he was, the young giant was nearly exhausted by the strain of his race over the mountains.
“Get up quick, Dad; I’ll tell you while you’re puttin’ on your clothes,” the woodsman answered; and while the shepherd dressed, he told him in a few words, finishing with, “Call Brave inside, and get your gun, with all the shells you can find. Don’t show a light for a minute. They’ll be here any time now, and it’ll be a good bit yet before Sammy can get home.” He began fastening the front door.
The peaceful minded scholar could not grasp the meaning of the message; it was to him an impossible thought; “You must be mistaken, Grant,” he said. “Surely you are excited and unduly alarmed. Wash Gibbs has no reason to attack me.”