Mose seemed to be in a hurry, and so the boy began to bestir himself. When he had put on his hat and boots he followed the herdsman to the office, where he settled his bill and received his valise, and thence to the verandah, beside which stood two small, shaggy ponies, saddled and bridled. Mose made the boy’s valise fast behind one of the saddles, and after assisting him to mount, sprang into the saddle himself and led the way toward the prairie.
The journey thus began occupied the best part of five days. Mose himself could have accomplished it in half the time, but Gus had never been in the saddle a half a dozen times before in his life, and the first day used him up completely. If there was anything interesting to be seen during the first part of the ride he never noticed it, and neither could he recall a single one of the many stories of adventure with which the obliging and kind-hearted Mose tried to beguile the long hours of their journey.
On the third day the boy began to get “hardened to it” in some degree, as Mose said, and about that time an incident happened that drove all thoughts of fatigue out of his mind, and made him doubly anxious to reach the shelter of Uncle John’s rancho at the earliest possible moment. By this time our two travellers were fairly in the wilderness. They had left all signs of civilization behind them, and had ridden far without seeing a living thing; consequently the sight of a horseman who came galloping toward them, and who, with a companion, was watching a small herd of cattle that were feeding beside the trail, was a most welcome one. The horseman came down to intercept them and learn the news. Mose told him everything of interest he had heard during his stay in Palos, and the man in return told him that the Apaches and Mexicans were making things warm for settlers on the border. There had recently been four raids through his county, he said, during which some of his relatives had been killed and wounded, and he had lost more than half his stock. In order to save the lives of the rest of his family, and provide for the safety of his remaining cattle, he had tumbled a few necessary things into a wagon, abandoned his comfortable home and was striking for the settlements. The man talked about his misfortunes in much the same way that he would have talked of a profitable bargain he had just made, and Mose listened to the story without making any remark. They were used to such things and took them as a matter of course; but Gus was not used to them, and he was frightened indeed. His hair seemed to rise up on end while he listened. He had never before talked face to face with men who had witnessed such thrilling scenes and taken part in them, and it was no wonder that he wanted to turn around and go back.
The man rode off after he had finished his story, and while Gus was thinking about it he and Mose met the wagon of which their visitor had spoken. It was drawn by a span of scraggy mules, and was loaded with women, children, cooking utensils and bedding. The occupants were ragged and dirty, and the driver carried his left arm in a sling and wore a bandage about his head.
“It was a close call for me,” said he, in response to some question that Mose addressed to him. “I got a bullet through my shoulder and a rap over the head with a hatchet. You want to watch out, you two do. The reds are most too thick about here to make travelling pleasant. We saw the trail of a small party only yesterday morning.”
This information and warning took away every atom of the boy’s courage, and when he and his companion had ridden beyond earshot of the people in the wagon, he said suddenly: “Don’t let’s go any farther, Mose.”
The herdsman ceased the merry whistling which he kept up all the time when he was not talking, and looked at Gus in great surprise.
“Let’s go back to Palos,” continued the latter. “We’ll be safe there, and I am afraid to go any farther.”
Mose laughed long and heartily. “Why, I’d rather be out here among the Indians than in the settlements,” said he. “I wouldn’t live in Palos for anything. There isn’t elbow-room enough there for me. I want to be where I can stretch my arms when I feel like it without hitting something. You needn’t worry,” he added, glancing at the boy’s pale face. “You’ll be just as safe in Mr. Ackerman’s rancho as you would be in Palos.”
“But perhaps the Indians will catch us before we get there.”