TALLY AND THE RUSTLERS

“That was some fine work our Guide accomplished with those two horse-thieves,” remarked Mr. Gilroy, enjoying the inquisitive urging of the girls to make him tell the tale.

“Yes, sir! I won my bet with both those Forest Rangers—or at least I would have won it had we only laid wagers on the result of this work of Tally’s,” he added, smiling at the scouts.

After threats and other ways of making him tell his story the girls finally had him launched.

“Well, it was this way,” he began:

“After I left Tally at the bridge to go up the little brook, while I was to go on to the lookout, he tells me he took his horse to a good hiding-place and then pulled his moccasins out of his panniers and put them upon his feet, then he started.”

“Didn’t he ride his horse?” asked Betty, in surprise.

“No, because a horse with his four hoofs makes more noise than an Indian’s two feet clad in moccasins. And Tally can creep anywhere without making a sound once he has on his moccasins, as you all know,” said Mr. Gilroy.

“But he was taking chances in having those very men get his horse as well as the burros,” ventured Hester.

“No, because Tally knew they would not come back the way they rode away with the burros, and he was too good a Guide to hide his animal in a place easy to find by others.

“Well, he says, he was fully an hour in and out of that stream while examining both banks carefully for tracks of the pack-animals. Finally he saw a spot where the bushes were trampled and broken down. Then, quite unexpectedly, he came to a small clearing where the ashes of a camp fire had slowly but surely eaten a way through the parched grass and would have reached in a short time the fringe of woods. He beat it out before he continued his hunt; and, in thus carefully circling the clearing to quench the fire, he came across the tracks in the earth of the quarry he sought. He was confident now that this was the right trail of the thieves. He also noticed that they were riding the horses which must have been corraled at their camp when they crept out to get the burros.

“He could follow the distinct hoof-prints more speedily, knowing they would lead him to those he was after. But he was careful, while going, to make sure his revolver and the rifle were in order for a moment’s need.

“The tracks led in and out as the men tried to find the easiest way through the forest. At last the trail became so clear that Tally could increase his pace till, quite suddenly, he came out of the thick forest to a small clearing where he found what he wanted. One man was just starting a camp fire, while another was hobbling two horses. The three burros stood waiting patiently to be unloaded after this arduous trail.

“At sight of the two disreputable, grimy-looking men who had two magnificent, blooded steeds with costly trappings, Tally immediately realized that he had a couple of old horse-thieves with whom to deal. Evidently the rustling of the burros with their well-filled packs was the means of sustaining the rascals for a longer time in these forest fastnesses. But Tally despises a horse-thief!

“A full-blooded Indian, descended from a line of famous guides in the Rockies, such as Tally is, becomes cool and considerate in times of need. Here were two desperate outlaws, with the goods for evidence, and here was one young Indian.

“Tally kept behind a tree and watched till the man had finished hobbling the two horses and was returning to his pal at the camp fire. The three burros, Tally noted, were almost between himself and the two thieves. He might spring across the space and screen himself behind the little fellows, but he wanted to deliver the pack-animals alive to his Boss. If he used them as a shield they would be certain to be used as a target by the men.

“After carefully studying the camp-site, Tally decided to skirt the clearing and make his attack from a point much nearer the men. He wished to surprise them, and not give them a chance to get their hands on their guns. Therefore he started to creep noiselessly through the bushes, but the wise little burros must have sensed the presence of a friend, if the wagging of their long ears, and the bright eyes watching the woods where the guide was hidden, proves it.

“As if fortune favored Tally somewhat, one of the men now said: ‘You get some more wood, Ben. Ain’t got ’nuff here to cook nawthin’.’

“‘You go see what grub them packs is got, whiles I k’lect the kindlin’s,’ replied Ben, starting for that part of the woods where Tally waited, hiding behind a pine.

“At the same time, Ben’s partner went for the burros, his thoughts so engrossed on the desirable items of food he was sure to find in those bulky packs, that he paid no attention to his pal.

“Ben, watching where he stepped, loped from the clearing into the dense growth of trees and brush; then, unexpectedly, he heard a faint sound and looked up—into the cold steel muzzle of a Colt’s automatic revolver. He knew the game and, so, without uttering a sound, he threw up both hands. But in doing so, he tried to create a noise with his feet—a sound which might attract his companion’s attention.

“‘Better not!’ hissed Tally, keeping the gun directed at the fellow’s head while fumbling in his shirt for the rope he had thought to thrust there in case of need.

“‘Keep hands over dat head, onless you lak eat bullets,’ was the guide’s cool warning; then, from behind the man, he deftly tied his arms together, and pulled him up to a tree to bind him securely to that stanchion.

“‘I no lak hear much talk. Better show how still you keep,’ mumbled Tally, taking Ben’s dirty bandanna and gagging his mouth.

“Then the Indian left his prisoner and returned to the camp-site.

“Meanwhile the cook had unbuckled one of the packs, but found it contained the portable stove. With an impatient oath he leaned over to feel of the other pannier, when a bright idea seemed to come to him.

“‘Sure ’nuff! why carry the stuff over to the fire, when you lazy critters kin do it for ole Bill: Gid’dap! As he spoke he yanked at Good-for-Nuttin’s bridle and dragged her by the head in the direction of the camp-fire.

“So occupied was Bill in trying to get the three burros to move over to the fire, that he failed to see the silent shadow which now leapt from the woods and landed directly behind him. So close, in fact, that Bill, in taking a backward step while pulling on Nuttin’s harness, felt an unexpected impediment in his pathway. In a flash he felt a hand on his hip and his revolver was gone! Instead of wheeling to confront whoever it was that did this. Bill tried to dash for the burros and get behind them. Tally was too quick.

“Bill dashed, it is true, but Tally could dash, too. And he did, landing as close to his second prisoner as he had stood a moment before.

“‘No goot! han’s up!’ commanded Tally, pushing the cold barrel of the gun up against the temple of the man.

“The rascal’s hands went up, but he turned to see who had captured him. A wicked gleam of fury shot from his eyes when he recognized the guide of the party that he had robbed.

“‘Now, meester outlaw, jes’ mosey up to that fine hoss over there,’ commanded Tally, coolly.

“‘Won’t you let me say a word to my pal?’ demanded Bill, trying to seem brave.

“‘Pooty queek you say lot, but not now. Jes’ now you do lak I say.’ The cold nose of the gun accented this order.

“In a few strides the two men, Captive and Captor, were over beside one of the hobbled horses.

“‘Now tek rope f’om saddle,’ said Tally. The prisoner obeyed, though reluctantly.

“‘You mek leetle noose,’ continued the Guide. This was done, then Tally added: ‘You sleep him ofer two han’s lak bracelet, eh?’

“The Indian covered the man with his gun while giving the rope a twitch that tightened it securely, around the wrists of the outlaw. Then he bound his feet likewise.

“‘Now I eat an’ give my hones’ fren’s, the hosses an’ burrors, some grub; nex’ we plan what to do, eh?” As he outlined his actions, the Indian deftly opened the pack where he had stored the feed. He gave the animals each a good drink of water; then hastily thinking and deciding, he gave each a small measure of oats from the panniers. Then he took a loaf of camp-bread, and a cold, fried trout left from breakfast, and ate quickly. Bill watched greedily, but the guide had no idea of wasting good food on worthless villains.

“After Tally had had a long drink from the spring near by the spot where the camp had been started, he carefully smothered every vestige of the camp fire. Then he glared over at Bill.

“‘Da’s what yuh forget to do down th’ trail. Mebbe he’em mek big blaze ef I not fin’ he’em. Coyotes lak you-all burn down more God Amighdy’s fine trees ’en the Creeador grow up again in a hunerd years. Mebbe you lak feel how fire tas’es to some fine tree, eh?’

“Tally knew the value of a rest to his beasts of burden, so, after they had finished their oats and had had a half hour’s quiet relaxation, he decided to back-trail the way he had come. He made sure that not a spark of the fire remained alive, then he went for Ben who had been left tied to the tree. He led him to the clearing, but Bill groaned aloud when he saw his pal was in the same plight as himself. The Indian made Ben put a foot in the stirrup, “Fine! he’em all right. Now clim’ up saddle on dat beeg hoss,” ordered Tally.

When Ben, hands, feet and body, was secured there, Tally went back to Bill and drove him over to get up behind his pal. How the rascal managed to sit upon the shiny rump of the animal was a wonder.

“Then the Guide sprang into the saddle of the other horse and started his private caravan out of the clearing. He had gone back as far as the old camp-site where the smoldering fire had been stamped out just in time to prevent a conflagration, when an ominous sound from ahead and above reached his acute hearing. Also the instincts of the high-bred horses caused them to snort and paw the ground. The three little burros flapped their great ears fearsomely, while the hair on their necks seemed to stand up like bristles on a brush.

“‘Um-m-mm! murmured Tally, taking in the situation at once. ‘Mebbe you fine outlaws mek udder fires an’ leave he’em lak you leave one dis mornin’, so now we have fine beeg fores’ fire!’

“The Indian’s eyes flashed as he spoke. ‘Mebbe now I tie you to jus’ such beeg tree lak you burn down, an’ leaf you to tas’ nice hot fire what you mek. My burro an’ dese two fine hosses what you steal, we go down-trail an’ get out after we leaf you here.

“There was no mistaking the signs that the forest was on fire, but the two cowards who now realized that the blaze was up in the direction of their camp of yesterday cringed and begged of Tally to hurry and get them out, else they would be roasted to death.

“‘Da’s goot for men what leaf camp fire smolder! goot for ’em to feel how fine beeg trees feel when flames roast efery one. Mebbe you know better when you baked goot and black lak forest after fire,’ Tally believed in ‘rubbing it in’ once he had the golden opportunity.

“But he kept on down the trail, in spite of his threats to stop and tie the two outlaws to the trees which now seemed to be doomed by the fast-spreading fire.

“Finally the going became too precarious even for such a daring guide as the Indian, and, true to instinct, he swerved away from the blazing tree-tops above, and broke through an almost impassable jungle of undergrowth. This wilderness proved to be merely a strip that separated the winding stream he had followed, from a new trail recently blazed by the Rangers.

“Following this comparatively easy path now Tally rode on behind his cortege until he came to a forester’s blaze. Here he read that he was riding away from the bridge instead of to it. Consequently he drove his cavalcade back, for a mile or more, to a cross-trail he had seen, but which had looked too insignificant to take.

“Reaching this he stopped to read the blaze; thus he found he could climb by the trail and strike into a good hard road where he would pass by the spot where he had left his horse. This he did and after arduous climbing he reached the log-bridge.

“He says he was so glad when he got his old horse back that he actually kissed its nose. There was no sign of the devastating fire at this section, and the horse had not even sniffed the smoke, and was well rested and ready for another jaunt.

“Tally had to use the large flash-light all the way down-trail from the bridge to this Lodge, and he says it was some jaunt! The two outlaws received no pity from him. Whenever they cried and begged to be allowed to rest and have some food from the packs he pronounced stern judgment upon them, and said:

“‘You no care what trouble you mek my frens, who mebbe go hungry when you steal packs, so now you feel same way! Dat goot for you—it mek you solly for my frens!” The scouts laughed at Mr. Gilroy’s mimicry of the Guide.

“Well, girls, you know the rest of the tale: how Tally came across me as I was ambling in at the gate of this Lodge, and how he met with a friend who took charge of the horses and men.”

“Oh, Gilly! Is that all there is to the ending?” demanded Hester, impatiently.

“Didn’t Tally get mixed up in a real honest-to-goodness western fight that needs a sheriff?” asked Julie, scornfully.

“Why, the whole thing is flat, if Tally rode in as tame as all that, Gilly!” added Joan.

“Well, I’m glad, for one, that the dear little burros and Tally weren’t scorched by that awful fire!” sighed Betty.

Every one laughed, as they usually did, when Betty voiced an opinion, and Julie added in disdain: “Pshaw! sounds like a Tenderfoot experience in some camp-meeting resort instead of a wild west frontier adventure!”

“Maybe you-all will be pleased to hear the grand finalÉ of Tally’s home-coming,” suggested Mr. Burt, quizzically.

“You mean the four suppers he managed to tuck away and then say ‘goot job finish,’” laughed Julie, enjoying that part of the narrative.

“No, Tally ran head-on into Sandy and several men just as he was about to turn in at the Lodge gate,” explained Burt.

“Why Gilly! You never mentioned Sandy in this story,” was Julie’s exclamation.

“Not yet, but I am coming to that part of it now,” chuckled Mr. Gilroy. “You see, Sandy had rushed to Santa FÉ to secure a few men he knew in these parts, and that is how he heard of two rich New Yorkers who had their horses stolen while going to a spring for a drink of water. These men had been given a lift in an automobile all the way back to Santa FÉ, where they hired a few recommended forest detectives to find their animals. They also posted a reward of five hundred dollars for the return of their horses and the two thieves. Well, as it happened that the men they hired were the ones Sandy needed on my job, and as it seemed to be about the same locality where our burros had been led away, he got all of them to come back with him. They planned to stop at Bishops Lodge until dawn, then ride on up-trail and find the outlaws. Tally saved them that trouble, as the two horses belonged to these New Yorkers, and the two horse-thieves belonged in jail. And there is where Sandy has conducted them, with the New Yorkers to prefer charges against them and spare you scouts the trouble of doing so. Tally got the reward, but he says he won’t keep it. He swears in Indian lingo that it belongs to ‘um-m-m-m, eh-eh, scout!’”