The Comanche must have been disgusted. He had been trying for some time to steal the mustang of Avon Burnet, with the result that the pony was about to steal him, unless he prevented it offhand.

The Indian heard the whistle from the edge of the bush, and the instant increase of speed, on the part of the stubborn mustang, made the meaning clear to him. He did not know but that three or four Texans were waiting in the mesquite, and that, if he stayed on the back of the steed a minute longer, he would be carried directly into their arms.

Consequently he did not hesitate. He went off of Thunderbolt, as if struck by a cannon ball, and, heading out on the prairie, ran with might and main, quickly disappearing in the darkness, and was seen no more.

“Ah, my own Thunderbolt!” exclaimed the delighted Avon, patting the nose of his beast, who was as happy as he at being restored to his young master; “I thought I would never see you again, but here you are.”

He sprang upon the bare back, and the pony started through the bush for the cabin.

Arriving there, matters were found in a satisfactory shape. Ballyhoo Gleeson was the only cowboy that had remained behind with Captain Shirril. The rest had started to look after the cattle. It has been shown that a number had been stampeded, and since all care was necessarily withdrawn from the others, they were likely to follow suit. Then, too, it was probable that the Comanches would see their chance of securing some of the herd, and would make the attempt despite the rough handling they had received.

Nothing could have attested more strikingly the fact that our friends were accustomed to their wild, dangerous life, than the manner in which they now acted. A half hour before, the little family within the cabin considered themselves in such imminent peril of being 193 burned to death that they allowed young Burnet to run the greatest risk to secure help, before it was too late.

But now Captain Shirril and Ballyhoo Gleeson sat before the fire, that was burning brightly, smoking their pipes, and talking as though the occurrence was of the most ordinary nature. The ranchman had made sure of his supply of tobacco, and intended to ride back to camp, after spending an hour or so within the house.

Everyone had eaten supper before the lively incidents opened, and Mrs. Shirril now resumed her sitting in front of the fire, occasionally taking part in the words of her husband and guests. Dinah was heard muttering angrily to herself upstairs, as she investigated the damages done by the visitor in her apartment.

Avon, on his return, told his uncle about his horse, explaining that he was fortunate enough to recover Thunderbolt.

“You were luckier than I supposed you would be,” said the captain, as his nephew drew up his chair near them.

“Do you think,” asked the wife, “that the Comanches will trouble us further, husband?”

“There is no danger,” he replied, calmly puffing his pipe; “is there, Ballyhoo?”

“None at all,” was the calm response.

“I thought perhaps that because they had suffered so severely, they would come back to revenge themselves,” ventured the little woman, still busily plying her needle.

“But you see the damage was done, not by you and Dinah, though you did your part, but by the men, and them’s the ones they’ll go for,” observed Ballyhoo.

“That is not the invariable rule with Indians,” was the truthful remark of Mrs. Shirril. “It makes little difference to them whether the innocent or guilty suffer.”

“But,” said the husband, “the prime object of the redskins is cattle, with perhaps horses thrown in. You know they have been hanging round for a number of days, waiting for a chance before we started north; they will make an effort to run off those stampeded cattle to-night, and likely enough will follow 195 us into the Indian Nation, on the watch for a chance to gather in several hundred hoofs.”

“I think there’s one thing that’s encouraging,” said Avon, addressing all his friends; “you know how dry the roof of the house is. If Dinah hadn’t put her foot down when she did, there would have been no cabin at this moment. The Comanches tried to fire the sides, and failing in that, gave their attention to the roof, where they came so near succeeding.”

“What do you refer to as encouraging, Avon?” asked his uncle.

“There’s a storm in the air; we are going to have a regular driving rain, that will soak the roof until a ton of live-coals on the top wouldn’t set fire to the planking.”

“Baby is right,” said Ballyhoo, with a nod of his head; “rain will fall within twelve hours.”

“That is good news,” said the wife, with a pleased look; “I shall now see the captain and the rest of you leave without a misgiving as concerns ourselves.”

“You wouldn’t feel frightened, Edna, if 196 old Wygwind and his gang of imps should come whooping down upon you?” asked the captain, looking sideways, with an expression of admiration and love glowing from his shaggy face.

“I don’t pretend to say we would not be frightened, but Dinah and I would feel secure inside, so long as there was no danger of the building being burned. I wonder whether Wygwind led this party.”

“I shouldn’t be surprised if he did; he’s one of the worst scamps that ever lived.”

“You’re right,” assented Ballyhoo. “I believe he led this gang, though a chap couldn’t tell in the darkness. You know what a thief he is.”

The allusion was to the notorious Comanche Wygwind, one of the many leaders belonging to that tribe. He was a powerful, wiry Indian, in middle life, who had long been detested by the ranchmen for his thievish and brutal propensities. He had stolen hundreds of cattle, not to mention horses, and though often pursued, and driven more than once into dangerous 197 quarters, he had managed in some way to pull through to the present time.

“If he should get inside,” said the captain slyly, “and you should get the drop on him, wife, I advise that you don’t let him walk out of the door unharmed.”

“That depends on circumstances,” quietly replied his better half; “if he should appeal to me, and he had done no particular harm, I could hardly refuse him. However, I don’t think if he does enter it will be through the scuttle.”

“The next time it will be best to turn him over to the mercies of Dinah.”

“I am afraid it will go ill with him if I do. I heard her say to herself, when she went upstairs after you, that, on the return trip, she meant to fall from the round of the ladder upon him: the result would have been frightful.”

“Yes; that red man doesn’t know all that he escaped.”

The mutterings of Dinah were still audible overhead, and she was seen the next minute, descending the primitive stairs.

The little party smiled, and the captain turned toward her.

“Well, Dinah, you didn’t find much damage done in your room, did you?”

“Humph! ’cause de warmint didn’t hab time. I only wish I had a chance to wrung his neck.”

“No doubt you would have done it, but I think we all have cause for gratitude that things turned out as well as they did.”

“I guess you didn’t notice dat big hole dey come nigh burning frough de roof, did you?”

“Oh, yes; I saw it; it would have been much worse but for you; I hope the fire didn’t injure your shoe.”

She turned her foot and looked at the broad sole of the heavy shoe, as though the thought had not occurred to her before.

“It am scorchified a little,” she said.

“Never mind,” remarked Ballyhoo gravely; “I’ll give out a contract for a new pair for you, when we get into Kansas, and send a couple of the boys back with them, if they don’t prove too big a load.”

“I consider such remarks as onnecessary and slightsome,” replied Dinah, with a scornful toss of her head; “I wore number ’lebens, which am just a lady’s size; I reckons you can’t do much better dan dat.”

“If my feet keep on growing for a few years, I may get there in time, but you shall have the shoes, Dinah, if the right size can be bought in any of the big establishments.”

“T’ank you,” replied the African, who thought it best not to repel the offer of her friend; “dese am gettin’ wored consid’ble, and by de time you got back, I’ll need anoder pair.”

The evening was advancing. In answer to Ballyhoo’s inquiries, Captain Shirril looked at his watch, and said that it was nearly eleven o’clock.

“I must be off,” remarked the tall ranchman, rising to his feet; “we make an early start, and I don’t know how the boys have made out with the cattle; they may need my help.”

“I may as well go with you,” said Avon, 200 looking inquiringly at his uncle; “for there is to be no more work here.”

“It will be just as well,” replied the captain.

The youth took his saddle and accoutrements from the corner, where they had been lying, and stepping outside, adjusted them upon Thunderbolt, who whinnied with pleasure at the promise of carrying his loved owner on his back indefinitely. The two had become attached by their companionship on the hunt and ranch, and the delight of the youth on recovering his mustang was beyond expression.

While he was busy at this brief task, the members of the little family kept their feet, discussing matters in which each was interested.

“Well, I’m ready, Ballyhoo,” called Avon, in his cheery voice, stepping quickly through the open door.

He placed one arm around the neck of his aunt and kissed her affectionately, shook hands with Dinah, adding as he crossed palms with his uncle:

“I expect to see you again, soon. Keep up a good heart, auntie, while we are gone, which I don’t think will be for long. Good-by, all!”

He put his foot in the stirrup, swung himself into the saddle, at the same moment that his companion did the same, and the couple headed their animals to the northward.

Captain Shirril and the women remained in the door, looking forth in the darkness, and listening until the sounds of the hoofs died out in the distance. Then the Texan led the way inside, adjusting the bar in place so that no one could enter without permission.

The extra horse which Avon had ridden to the cabin was turned loose in the bush, to be recovered and used by the captain when he wished to ride to the camp. Ballyhoo had removed the saddle and bridle, which lay in the corner where Avon’s had awaited him.

The Texan stood a minute, looking around the room, as if trying to recall any forgotten duty, but thought of none.

“It is later than I suspected,” said he, 202 addressing his wife and consulting his watch again; “and we may as well retire.”

He lighted a common tallow candle, and with that in his hand, led the way up the ladder, followed by the others. Fifteen minutes later, everyone was sleeping as soundly as though the evening had not been disturbed by any unusual incident.