Meanwhile Avon Burnet and Gleeson continued riding northward at an easy gallop, their eyes and ears on the alert for sounds of their friends or enemies.

“Do you remember this spot?” asked the elder, drawing his mustang down to a walk, after going some distance.

The youth looked keenly round in the gloom, but saw only the level plain, similar to that over which they had ridden since leaving the cabin. A dark object on the ground caused him to force his pony toward it.

“That must be one of our cattle,” he said inquiringly.

“It’s what is left of him; that’s the steer that the Comanche brought down when he took a shot at you.”

“Ah, this is the place where you joined me?”

“Percisely.”

“But where is he––that is, his body?”

“They’ve took it off; you know how hard the Comanches try to carry away their dead and wounded.”

“I saw a proof of that while hunting for Thunderbolt, but I didn’t think they would be able to find this one.”

“They must have heard the shot and his cry, and though we made things hum about them, they took time to look into it and bear the body away.”

“I wonder now whether that could have been Wygwind,” said Avon, referring to the notorious leader of whom we have spoken.

“No,” was the decisive reply of Ballyhoo.

“Why not?”

“He is a powerful brave Injin, but plenty of his warriors can outrun him. This one was too good on his feet to be him.”

The couple gave their horses rein again, and they broke into a gallop which carried them swiftly toward their destination. The 205 glimmer of the camp-fire was discerned when they rode to the top of the next moderate elevation.

“Hark!” exclaimed Ballyhoo, abruptly checking his pony.

His companion did the same, for he had caught the sound, which was that made by many hoofs.

“The confounded beasts are still at it,” added the elder, allowing his steed to resume his walk.

“The boys may be driving them back to camp.”

“No; it doesn’t sound right.”

“Do you imagine the Comanches are taking any hand in this?”

“It doesn’t strike me so, but there’s no saying what those varmints will do; they’re so fond of stealing that they’ll run great risks.”

However, since the couple were able to locate the running animals, they felt it their duty to bear a hand in helping to bring them back to camp. There was danger that if they were not speedily brought under control, the start could not be made on time.

“Come on, Baby,” called Gleeson, wheeling his animal to the right, and sending him off at a dead run.

Thunderbolt knew what was expected of him, and without waiting for orders, stretched away in the same direction, with the old thrill stirring his rider at the prospect of exciting work at hand.

It was not long before they caught sight of the frightened animals, going as if a legion of wolves were at their heels. They were running from camp, and, unless their course could be changed, would be far from it before daylight.

In fact their presence so comparatively near proved that they were either another part of the main herd, or if the ones first stampeded, had broken off again, after being well on their way to their regular pasturing grounds.

“Look out! they may be Comanches!” called Ballyhoo to his youthful companion. “No, they are not either.”

The last remark was caused by the sight of two of their friends riding like mad, shouting 207 and swinging their whips, which they had brought from camp. They were Madstone and Rickety, who were doing all they knew how to check the animals that seemingly would not be checked or turned aside.

It looked as if Ballyhoo and Avon must be trampled to death, for they were directly in front of the rushing herd, but they swung their arms, holding each his rifle aloft, and shouted loud enough to be heard miles distant.

The mustangs were a little nervous, but were used to such experiences, and they did not catch the contagion. They held their ground, though it was manifest they would have preferred to be somewhere else.

Suddenly, when the terrified beasts were almost upon them, they swerved to one side. The change of direction was slight, but it was important as a beginning. The cowboys were quick to take advantage of it, and redoubled their shoutings and gesticulations. The cattle trended further and further from the course they had been following, and ere long were headed toward the camp.

They were now on the run and the four men kept them there, determined that they should not get away again.

Madstone explained that they were the ones that took fright earlier in the evening, and were on a dead run, when Ballyhoo shot down the Comanche that was pursuing Avon Burnet. The cattle had drifted a considerable way, but they were soon brought under control and headed in the right direction.

All was going well, when off they went again at a more frantic rate than before. The cowboys were at loss to understand what caused the new outbreak, when, to their amazement, three Comanches appeared in their front.

The dusky scamps did their best to run them off, but it was evident they were afraid of the Texans, who made a dash for them, whereupon they disappeared.

But they had turned the cattle in a new direction, and the Texans had all their work to do over again. There was little prospect of success, until Ballyhoo and 209 Avon added their efforts, when matters assumed a better shape.

But the trouble was by no means over. If these animals should plunge into the main herd at the rate they were now going, they were sure to spread the panic, with the probability that the whole two thousand would soon be on the run, and the difficulty of the ranchmen intensified ten-fold.

Accordingly, as the ground was approached, the four horsemen resorted to the well-known practice of what may be called rounding-up. They galloped back and forth, on the outer edge of the herd, and here and there, circumnavigating them continually and as fast as the fleetness of their mustangs would permit.

By this means they finally succeeded in turning the heads of the cattle toward each other, and they were crowded into a compact mass, whose members were obliged to stand still, since they were huddled in one heap, with the yelling cowboys careering back and forth, around the circumference.

This was not accomplished a moment too soon, for they were close upon the main herd, 210 which showed a restlessness that might have broken forth into another stampede, but for the skill of the other cowboys who had them in charge.

When the reunion of the Texans took place near the camp-fire, and there was a general talk over the incidents of the evening, the arrangements were made for the night. All had been so actively engaged that rest would have been acceptable, but there was not one who would have murmured, had he been ordered to take his position and hold it for hours.

Indeed Avon Burnet volunteered to do his part in looking after the cattle that it was necessary to keep under watch through the darkness.

“No,” replied Ballyhoo, “I’ve fixed it. You and me will take a hand to-morrow night, when we’re likely to find it a blamed sight more unpleasant than now.”

“And why so?”

“That storm that we’ve been talking about is holding off, as though it finds it hard to make up its mind to come, but it will be here within twenty hours or less.”

“I am glad of it,” remarked the youth, thinking of his friends in the distant cabin, which had escaped burning by such a narrow chance.

It was now past midnight, and those who were to be off duty did not squander the precious hours; but, crawling into the covered wagon, bundled themselves up and slept the sleep which waits on rugged health.

At the earliest streakings of light the camp was astir. The man who served the party as cook had no light task on his hands. He generally carried a lot of wood in the wagon with him, for the reason that it was not always easy to obtain, and, by doing this, he was sure of always having enough dry fuel to burn readily when wanted.

Those Texans were satisfied at times to go without anything at all in the way of food, or to snatch a bite by checking their mustangs long enough to allow them to receive it, when they were off again; but whenever the opportunity for a “square meal” presented itself, they proved themselves full hands.

Gleeson, who acted as master during the 212 absence of Captain Shirril, mounted his horse and rode out to inspect the herd. He was relieved to find them all in place. Most of them were lying down, drowsily chewing their cuds, but a few had risen and were cropping the grass, which grew quite abundantly in the neighborhood.

While employed in this duty, Ballyhoo cast frequent looks in the direction of Captain Shirril’s home. He expected to see their leader before it was light, but the sun was already showing in the horizon and he was not in sight.

The Texan galloped to the top of the adjoining elevation, from which he could see the low flat building in the distance. Shading his eyes with his hand, he peered long and earnestly, but without catching sight of a horseman galloping toward him.

“It’s very odd,” thought Gleeson, “that he doesn’t show up; something must have taken place. I wonder if those varmints have come back after Baby and I left last night.”

It seemed impossible that anything like this should have occurred, but it was beyond his 213 power to explain the non-appearance of the “boss” on any other theory. He was prompt and energetic, and was more likely to be ahead than behind the time he set for his own appearance at a particular place.

Without giving expression to his fears, he joined the group at the wagon and partook of his breakfast, washing down his food with a cup of delicious steaming coffee. He avoided Avon for a time, because he plainly saw the young man was disturbed; but, when the meal was finished, the remarks became general over the absence of Captain Shirril.

“I’ve just come from the top of the swell,” said Madstone, who had been there since Ballyhoo, “and can’t see anything of him. I ’spose he has overslept himself, because of the flurry last night.”

“I wish I could believe it is nothing worse,” said Avon, walking thoughtfully out to where his mustang stood saddled and bridled.

“Why, what else could it be, Baby?” asked Ballyhoo, repressing his own uneasiness.

“That’s just what I want to find out; I tell 214 you, I don’t think we ought to stay here, when it’s pretty sure something is wrong at the house; if the Comanches are going to keep this up, it will never do to leave the women alone; I shall have to go back and stay with them.”

“I can’t believe it’s that, but we shall soon know.”

He sprang into the saddle, and the two rode to the elevation which has already been referred to several times.

“I will wait here,” said the elder, checking his animals, “while you ride on to the cabin.”

Avon looked inquiringly at him.

“Don’t you think it best you should go with me?”

“No; I will keep you under my eye all the way; if you see anything out of gear, you need only to signal, and I will fetch two or three of the boys with me.”

It struck the youth as strange that Ballyhoo should stop after starting for the dwelling. The young man had made up his mind there was something wrong there, and it seemed to 215 him like a waste of time for his friend to hold back.

However, he said nothing further in the way of protest, but, speaking briskly to Thunderbolt, sent him off at headlong speed toward the cabin.

“I am afraid this knocks all my plans to smithereens,” he said to himself; “for if there is the least danger of the Comanches putting in their appearance again, it would never do for me to leave home. It is bad enough for uncle to go, but there is no help in his case, while there is in mine.”

As he drew near the dwelling his feelings intensified, and all other thoughts went from him.

“I don’t see a sign of a living person,” he added, slowing the gait of his steed; “suppose the Comanches made a descent upon them in the night and managed to secure entrance––well, by gracious!”