Friends and Foes—Plots and Counterplots—The Ranch in Danger.
In a few minutes the sound of heavy feet and gruff voices was heard in the outside passage, and next moment ten men filed into the room and saluted their chief heartily.
Charlie felt an almost irresistible tendency to open his eyes, but knew that the risk was too great, and contented himself with his ears. These told him pretty eloquently what was going on, for suddenly, the noise of voices and clattering of footsteps ceased, a dead silence ensued, and Charlie knew that the whole band were gazing at him with wide open eyes and, probably, open mouths. Their attention had been directed to the stranger by the chief. The silence was only momentary, however.
“Now, don’t begin to whisper, pards,” said Buck Tom, in a slightly sarcastic tone. “When will ye learn that there is nothing so likely to waken a sleeper as whisperin’? Be natural—be natural, and tell me, as softly as ye can in your natural tones, what has brought you back so soon. Come, Jake, you have got the quietest voice. The poor man is pretty well knocked up and needs rest. I brought him here.”
“Has he got much?” the sentence was completed by Jake significantly slapping his pocket.
“A goodish lot. But come, sit down and out wi’ the news. Something must be wrong.”
“Wall, I guess that somethin’ is wrong. Everything’s wrong, as far as I can see. The Redskins are up, an’ the troops are out, an’ so it seemed o’ no use our goin’ to bust up the ranch of Roarin’ Bull, seein’ that the red devils are likely to be there before us. So we came back here, an’ I’m glad you’ve got suthin’ in the pot, for we’re about as empty as kettledrums.”
“Humph!” ejaculated Buck, “didn’t I tell you not to trouble Roarin’ Bull—that he and his boys could lick you if you had been twenty instead of ten. But how came ye to hear o’ this cock-and-bull story about the Redskins?”
“We got it from Hunky Ben, an’ he’s not the boy to go spreadin’ false reports.”
Charlie Brooke ventured at this point to open his eye-lids the smallest possible bit, so that any one looking at him would have failed to observe any motion in them. The little slit however, admitted the whole scene to the retina, and he perceived that ten of the most cut-throat-looking men conceivable were seated in a semicircle in the act of receiving portions from the big pot into tin plates. Most of them were clothed in hunters’ leathern costume, wore long boots with spurs, and were more or less bronzed and bearded.