Oscar Gleeson, the Texan, was correct in his suspicion of the purpose of the Comanches in making Captain Shirril their prisoner; having secured possession of him, they intended to force a liberal ransom on the part of his friends, as a condition of his restoration to liberty.

The act was not only an audacious one on their part, but it will be perceived that the fulfilment of the terms was certain to be attended with the gravest difficulty. The cowboys were not to be trifled with, and, since it was inevitable that a point would be reached where one party must of necessity trust the pledges of the other, a violent collision with serious consequences appeared unavoidable.

It has been shown that it was not until he arrived close to the hills, among which the 289 red men had fled with their captive, that there was any response to the signal he displayed almost from the first.

The moment he caught sight of the two warriors, he stopped his mustang and awaited their approach. It was not singular that a man who had crossed the Indian Nation so frequently as this veteran, recognized the couple as Wygwind, the chieftain, and Richita, whom he had met more than once and knew to be two of the worst miscreants belonging to the American race.

With no evidence, however, of his identification, he deliberately lowered his flag of truce, and returning it to its place around his brawny neck, secured it by tying the usual knot. Then with a half military salute he asked:

“Is the white man with you hurt bad?”

“Hurt not much,” replied Wygwind, who spoke English far better than his comrade.

“Why did you take him away?”

The American Indian, as a rule, is of melancholy temperament, but at this question the Comanche displayed an unmistakable grin which revealed his even white teeth.

“We sell him––he worth good much.”

“What price do you ask for him?” demanded Gleeson, coming to the point with undiplomatic abruptness.

The expectation of the Texan was that these ambassadors would demand a large number of cattle, probably five hundred, in exchange for their valuable captive. He ardently hoped that such would prove the case, for he had already formed a scheme for paying off the rogues in their own coin.

His intention was to transfer the cattle, managing the payment, however, with such care that all breach of faith on the part of the captain’s enemies would be frustrated. Then, after he was safe with his friends, and the property was placed in the hands of the Comanches, it would be necessary for the red men to hold them. The field would become an open one, and before they could turn their newly acquired property to account, they were likely to hear from the original proprietors.

But Wygwind was too shrewd to be ensnared in this style. He and his partners, in elaborating the scheme that had worked so 291 well up to this point, had foreseen the very contingency in the mind of the white man, who sat on his horse before the delegates.

“We take horses––so many.”

In making this answer, Wygwind raised the fingers and thumbs of his hands twice in succession. Unable to count a score in the English language, he proved nevertheless that he had a clear idea of the number, which was indicated so plainly that the Texan could make no mistake as to his meaning.

Gleeson was disappointed as well as surprised. Since each cowboy was provided with at least three horses, there were about thirty with the company. To turn two-thirds of these over to the red men would seriously cripple the whites, who had still a long journey before them.

Furthermore, it must effect a material change in the programme the Texan had formed. Horseflesh is as dear to the red as to the white man, and, well mounted as the former would be after the exchange, the chances of recovering the property by the Texans must be reduced to the minimum.

But the new phase of affairs had to be met. Suppressing all evidence of his feelings, Gleeson said:

“We have not enough horses to give what you ask; we will let you have that many.”

And he held up the thumb and fingers of his right hand. Wygwind with another grin shook his head.

“Take so many”––and he repeated the gestures by which he first indicated twenty.

Gleeson now doubled his offer, which, it will be understood, was half the price demanded; but the wily Comanche felt that he was in a position to dictate terms, and remained inexorable.

The Texan knew it was useless to haggle, but he kept it up with a view of gaining time. Naturally keen-witted and trained in the subtlety of the dusky men of the plains, he sought to do more than dispute over the conditions of a proposed bargain. While thus employed, he used his senses to their fullest extent. Without seeming to do so, he was scrutinizing the hills just beyond the couple, on the ground in front of him. He sought to 293 learn whether any of their warriors were at hand. They might have been, without his knowledge, but the fact that he saw no sign of them led him to believe they were not within immediate call.

Had he been confronted by a single warrior instead of a couple, the Texan would have attempted an exploit in which there was hardly one chance in a hundred of succeeding. It was to seize the warrior, make off with him, and then hold him as a hostage for the safety of Captain Shirril.

True, this was a violation of the flag of truce, but under the circumstances it would not have been one-tenth as flagrant as that by which our government captured the famous Seminole chieftain Osceola, and held him prisoner until his death; but with two doughty warriors to combat, it would seem that nothing could be more foolhardy than any such effort on the part of the Texan.

And yet Gleeson seriously asked himself whether it was not possible to shoot one, and leaping upon the other, overcome and carry him off before his friends could interfere. In 294 referring to it afterward he admitted its absurdity, and yet he would have made the attempt but for a trifling discovery when almost in the act of taking the decisive step.