The Story of the Foss River Ranch by Ridgwell Cullum

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Yet another surprise was in store for the waiting man. So fixed had his
attention been upon the on-coming cattle that he had not once removed
his eyes from the direction of their approach. Now, however, a prolonged
bellow to the right of him caused him to turn abruptly. To his utter
astonishment he saw, not fifty yards from him, a solitary horseman
leading a couple of steers by ropes affixed to their horns. He wondered
how long this strange apparition had been there. The horse was calmly
nibbling at the grass, and the man was quietly resting himself with
elbows propped upon the horn of his saddle. He, too, appeared to be
gazing in the direction of the on-coming cattle. Horrocks tried hard to
distinguish the man's appearance, but the light was too uncertain to
give him more than the vaguest idea of his personality.

The horse seemed to be black or very dark brown. And the general outline
of the rider was that of a short slight man, with rather long hair which
flowed from beneath the brim of his Stetson hat. The most curious
distinguishable feature was his slightness. The horse was big and the
man, was so small that, as he sat astride of his charger, he looked to
be little more than a boy of fifteen or sixteen.

Horrocks's survey was cut short, however, for now the herd of cattle was
tearing down upon him at a desperate racing pace. He saw the solitary
rider gather up his lines and move his horse further away from the edge
of the muskeg. Then the herd of cattle came along. They raced past the
bluff where the officer was stationed, accompanied by four swarthy
drivers, one of which was mounted upon a great chestnut horse whose
magnificent stride and proportions fixed the captive's attention. He had
heard of "Golden Eagle," and he had no doubt in his mind that this was
he and the rider was the celebrated cattle-thief. The band and its
drovers swept by, and Horrocks estimated that the cattle numbered many
hundreds.

After awhile he heard the sound of voices. Then the beasts were driven
back again over their tracks, only at a more gentle pace. Several times
the performance was gone through, and each time, as they passed him,
Horrocks noticed that their pace was decreased, until by the sixth time
they passed their gait had become a simple mouche, and they leisurely
nipped up the grass as they went, with bovine unconcern. It was a
masterly display of how cattle can be handled, and Horrocks forgot for a
while his other troubles in his interest in the spectacle.

After passing him for the sixth time the cattle came to a halt; and then
the strangest part of this strange scene was enacted. The horseman with
the led steers, whom, by this time, Horrocks had almost forgotten, came
leisurely upon the field of action. No instructions were given. The
whole thing was done in almost absolute silence. It seemed as if long
practice had perfected the method of procedure.

The horseman advanced to the brink of the muskeg, exactly opposite to
the bluff where the captive was tied, and with him the two led steers.
Horrocks held his breath--his excitement was intense. The swarthy
drivers roused the tired cattle and headed them towards the captive
steers. Horrocks saw the boyish rider urge his horse fearlessly on to
the treacherous surface of the keg. The now docile and exhausted cattle
followed leisurely. There was no undue bustle or haste. It was a
veritable "follow my leader." Where it was good enough for the captive
leaders to go it was good enough for the weary beasts to follow, and so,
as the boy rider moved forward, the great herd followed in twos and
threes. The four drivers remained until the end, and then, as the last
steer set foot on the dreadful mire, they too joined in the silent
procession.

Horrocks exerted all his prairie instinct as he watched the course of
that silent band. He was committing to memory, as far as he was capable,
the direction of the path across the keg, for, when opportunity offered,
he was determined to follow up his discovery and attempt the journey
himself. He fancied in his own secret heart that Retief had at last
overreached himself, and in thus giving away his secret he was paving
the way to his own capture.

It was not long before the cattle and their drivers passed out of sight,
but Horrocks continued to watch, so that he should lose no chance detail
of interest. At length, however, he found that his straining gaze was
useless, and all further interest passed out of his lonely vigil.

Now he busied himself with plans for his future movements, when he
should once more be free. And in such thought the long night passed, and
the time drew on towards dawn.

The surprises of the night were not yet over, however, for just before
the first streaks of daylight shot athwart the eastern sky he saw two
horsemen returning across the muskeg. He quickly recognized them as
being the raider himself and the boyish rider who had led the cattle
across the mire. They came across at a good pace, and as they reached
the bank the officer was disgusted to see the boy ride off in a
direction away from the settlement, and the raider come straight towards
the bluff. Horrocks was curious about the boy who seemed so conversant
with the path across the mire, and was anxious to have obtained a
clearer view of him.

The raider drew his horse up within a few yards of the captive. Horrocks
had a good view of the man's commanding, eagle face. In spite of himself
he could not help but feel a strange admiration for this lawless Breed.

There was something wonderfully fascinating and lofty in the hustler's
direct, piercing gaze as, proudly disdainful, he looked down upon his
discomfited prisoner.

He seemed in no hurry to speak. A shadowy smile hovered about his face
as he eyed the officer. Then he turned away and looked over to the
eastern horizon. He turned back again and drawled out a greeting. It was
not cordial but it was characteristic of him.

"Wal?"

Horrocks made no reply. The Breed laughed mockingly, and leant forward
upon the horn of his saddle.

"Guess you've satisfied your curiosity--some. Say, the boys didn't
handle you too rough, I take it. I told 'em to go light."

Horrocks was constrained to retort.

"Not so rough as you'll be handled when you get the law about you."

"Now I call that unfriendly. Guess them's gopher's words. But say, pard,
the law ain't got me yet. Wot d'ye think of the road across the keg?
Mighty fine trail that." He laughed as though enjoying a good joke.

Horrocks felt that he must terminate this interview. The Breed had a
most provoking way with him. His self-satisfaction annoyed his hearer.

"How much longer do you intend to keep me here?" Horrocks exclaimed
bitterly. "I suppose you mean murder; you'd better get on with it and
stop gassing. Men of your kidney don't generally take so much time over
that sort of business."

Retief seemed quite unruffled.

"Murder? Why, man, I didn't bring you here to murder you. Guess ef I'd a
notion that way you'd 'a' been done neat long ago. No, I jest wanted to
show you what you wanted to find out. Now I'm goin' to let you go, so
you, an' that skunk Lablache'll be able to chin-wag over this night's
doin's. That's wot I'm here fer right now."

As he finished speaking the Breed circled Golden Eagle round behind the
tree, and, bending low down from the saddle, he cut the rope which held
the policeman's wrists. Horrocks, feeling himself freed, stepped quickly
from the bush into the open, and faced about towards his liberator. As
he did so he found himself looking up into the muzzle of Retief's
revolver. He stood his ground unflinchingly.

"Now, see hyar, pard," said Retief, quietly, "I've a mighty fine respect
for you. You ain't the cuckoo that many o' yer mates is. You've got
grit, anyway. But that ain't all you need. 'Savee's' a mighty fine
thing--on occasions. Now you need 'Savee.' I'll jest give yer a piece of
advice right hyar. You go straight off down to Lablache's ranch. You'll
find him thar. An' pesky uncomfortable you'll find him. You ken set him
free, also his ranch boys, an' when you've done that jest make tracks
for Stormy Cloud an' don't draw rein till you git thar. Ef ever you see
Retief on one trail, jest hit right off on to another. That's good sound
sense right through fur you. Say, work on that, an' you ain't like to
come to no harm. But I swear, right hyar, ef you an' me ever come to
close quarters I'll perforate you--'less you git the drop on me. An' to
do that'll keep you humpin'. So long, pard. It's jest gettin' daylight,
ah' I don't calc'late to slouch around hyar when the sun's shinin'.
Don't go fur to forget my advice. I don't charge nothin' fur it, but
it's good, pard--real good, for all that. So long."

He swung his horse round, and before Horrocks had time to collect
himself, much less to speak, he was almost out of sight.

Half dazed and still wondering at the strangeness of the desperate
Breed's manner he mechanically began to walk slowly in the direction of
the Foss River Settlement.

CHAPTER XXII

THE DAY AFTER

Morning broke over a disturbed and restless community at Foss River. The
chief residents who were not immediately concerned in the arrest of
Retief--only deeply interested, and therefore skeptical--had gone to bed
over-night eager for the morning light to bring them news. Their broken
slumbers ceased as daylight broadened into sunrise, and, without waiting
for their morning coffee, the majority set out to gather the earliest
crumbs of news obtainable. There were others, of course, who were not in
the know, or, at least, had only heard vague rumors. These were less
interested, and therefore failed to rise so early.

Amongst the earliest abroad was Doctor Abbot. Aunt Margaret's interest
was not sufficient to drag her from her downy couch thus early, but,
with truly womanly logic, she saw no reason why the doctor should not
glean for her the information she required. Therefore the doctor rose
and shivered under the lightness of his summer apparel in the brisk
morning air.

The market-place, upon which the doctor's house looked, was almost
deserted when he passed out of his door. He glanced quickly around for
some one whom he might recognize. He saw that the door of "Lord" Bill's
shack was open, but it was too far off for him to see whether that lazy
individual was yet up. A neche was leisurely cleaning up round
Lablache's store, whilst the local butcher was already busy swabbing out
the little shed which did duty for his shop. As yet there was no other
sign of life abroad, and Doctor Abbot prepared to walk across to the
butcher for a gossip, and thus wait for some one else to come along.

He stepped briskly from his house, for he was "schrammed" with cold in
his white drill clothing. As he approached the energetic butcher, he saw
a man entering the market-place from the southern extremity of the
settlement. He paused to look closely at the new-comer. In a moment he
recognized Thompson, one of the clerks from Lablache's store. He
conjectured at once that this man might be able to supply him with the
information he desired, and so changed his direction and went across to
meet him.

"Mornin', Thompson," he said, peering keenly into the pale, haggard face
of the money-lender's employee. "What's up with you? You look positively
ill. Have you heard how the arrest went off last night?"

There was a blunt directness about the doctor which generally drove
straight to the point. The clerk wearily passed his hand across his
forehead. He seemed half asleep, and, as the doctor had asserted,
thoroughly ill.

"Arrest, doctor? Precious little arrest there's been. I've been out on
the prairie all night. What, haven't you heard about the governor? Good
lor'! I don't know what's going to happen to us all. Do you think we're
safe here?"

"Safe here? What do you mean, man?" the doctor answered, noting the
other's fearful glances round. "Why, what ails you? What about
Lablache?"

Others had now appeared upon the market-place and Doctor Abbot saw
"Lord" Bill, dressed in a gray tweed suit, and looking as fresh as if he
had just emerged from the proverbial bandbox, coming leisurely towards
him.

"What about Lablache, eh?" replied Thompson, echoing the doctor's
question ruefully. "A pretty nice thing Horrocks and his fellows have
let themselves, and us, in for."

Bill had come up now and several others had joined the group. They stood
by and listened while the clerk told his story. And what a story it was
too. It was vividly sanguinary, and enough to strike terror into the
hearts of his audience.

He told with great gusto of how Lablache had been abducted. How the
police horses and the money-lender's had been stolen from the stables at
the store. He dwelt on the frightful horrors committed up at the Breed
camp. How he had seen the police shot down before his very eyes, and he
became expansive on the fact that, with his own hands, Retief had
carried off Horrocks, and how he had heard the raider declare his
intention of hanging him. It was a terrible tale of woe, and his
audience was thrilled and horrified. "Lord" Bill alone appeared unmoved.
A close observer even might have noticed the faintest suspicion of a
smile at the corners of his mouth. The smile broadened as the sharp
doctor launched a question at the narrator of terrible facts.

"How came you to see all this, and escape?"

Thompson was at no loss. He told how he had been sent up by "Poker" John
to find Horrocks and tell him about Lablache. How he arrived in time to
see the horrors perpetrated, and how he only managed to escape with his
own life by flight, under cover of the darkness, and how, pursued by the
bloodthirsty Breeds, he had managed to hide on the prairie, where he
remained until daylight, and then by a circuitous route got back to the
settlement.

"I tell you what it is, doctor," he finished up consequentially, "the
Breeds are in open rebellion, and, headed by that devil, Retief, intend
to clear us whites out of the country. It's the starting of another Riel
rebellion, and if we don't get help from the Government quickly, it's
all up with us. That's my opinion," and he gazed patronizingly upon the
crowd, which by this time had assembled.

"Nonsense, man," said the doctor sharply. "Your opinion's warped.
Besides, you're in a blue funk. Come on over to 'old man' Smith's and
have a 'freshener.' You want bucking-up. Coming, Bill?" he went on,
turning to Bunning-Ford. "I want an 'eye-opener' myself. What say to a
'Collins'?"

The three moved away from the crowd, which they left horrified at what
it had heard, and eagerly discussing and enlarging upon the sanguinary
stories of Thompson.

"Poker" John was already at the saloon when the three reached the door
of "old man" Smith's reeking den. The proprietor was sweeping the bar,
in a vain effort to clear the atmosphere of the nauseating stench of
stale tobacco and drink. John was propped against the bar mopping up his
fourth "Collins." He usually had a thirst that took considerable
quenching in the mornings now. His over-night potations were deep and
strong. Morning "nibbling" had consequently become a disease with him.
"Old man" Smith, with a keen eye to business, systematically mixed the
rancher's morning drinks good and strong.

Bill and the doctor were not slow to detect the condition of their old
friend, and each felt deeply on the subject. Their cheery greetings,
however, were none the less hearty. Smith desisted in his dusty
occupation and proceeded to serve his customers.

"We're having lively times, John," said the doctor, after emptying his
"long sleever." "Guess Retief's making things 'hum' in Foss River."

"Hum? Shout is more like it," drawled Bill. "You've heard all the news,
John?"

"I've enough news of my own," growled the rancher.

"Been up all night. I see you've got Thompson with you. What did
Horrocks do after you told him about Lablache?" he went on, turning to
the clerk.

Bill and the doctor exchanged meaning glances. The clerk having found a
fresh audience again repeated his story. "Poker" John listened
carefully. At the close of the narrative he snorted disdainfully and
looked from the clerk to his two friends. Then he laughed loudly. The
clerk became angry.

"Excuse me, Mr. Allandale, but if you doubt my word--"

"Doubt your word, boy?" he said, when his mirth had subsided. "I don't
doubt your word. Only I've spent most of the night up at the Breed camp
myself."

"And were you there, sir, when Horrocks was captured?"

"No, I was not. After you came to my place and went on to the camp, I
was very uneasy. So, after a bit, I got my 'hands' together and prepared
to follow you up there. Just as I was about to set out," he went on,
turning to the doctor and Bill, "I met Jacky coming in. Bless you if she
hadn't been to see the pusky herself. You know," with a slight frown,
"that child is much too fond of those skulking Breeds. Well, anyway, she
said everything was quiet enough while she was there and," turning again
to Thompson, "she had seen nothing of Retief or Horrocks or any of the
latter's men. We just put our heads together, and she convinced me that
I was right, after what had occurred at the store, and had better go up.
So up I went. We searched the whole camp. I guess we were there for nigh
on three hours. The place was quiet enough. They were still dancing and
drinking, but not a blessed sign of Horrocks could we find."

"I expect he'd gone before you got there, sir," put in Thompson.

"Did you find the bodies of the murdered police?" asked the doctor
innocently.

"Not a sign of 'em," laughed John. "There were no dead policemen, and,
what's more, there was no trace of any shooting."

The three men turned on the clerk, who felt that he must justify
himself.

"There was shooting enough, sir; you mark my words. You'll hear of it
to-day, sure."

"Lord" Bill walked away towards the window in disgust. The clerk annoyed
him.

"No, boy, no. I'm thinking you are mistaken. I should have discovered
some trace had there been any shooting. I don't deny that your story's
true, but in the excitement of the moment I guess you got rattled--and
saw things."

Old John laughed and turned away. At that instant Bill called them all
over to the window. The bar window overlooked the market-place, and the
front of Lablache's store was almost opposite to it.

Bill pointed towards the store as the three men gathered round. "Old
man" Smith also ranged himself with the others.

"Look!" Bill smiled grimly.

A buckboard had just drawn up outside Lablache's emporium and two people
were alighting. A crowd had gathered round the arrivals. There was no
mistaking one of the figures. The doctor was the first to give
expression to the thought that was in the mind of each of the interested
spectators.

"Lablache!" he exclaimed in astonishment

"And Horrocks," added "Lord" Bill quietly.

"Guess he wasn't hung then after all," said "Poker" John, turning as he
spoke. But Thompson had taken his departure. This last blow was too
much. And he felt that it was an advantageous moment in which to retire
to his employer's store, and hide his diminished head amongst the bales
of dry goods and the monumental ledgers to be found there.

"That youth has a considerable imagination." The Hon. Bunning-Ford
turned from the window and strolled leisurely towards the door.

"Where are you going?" exclaimed "Poker" John.

"To cook some breakfast."

"No, no, you must come up to the ranch with me. Let's go right over to
the store first, and hear what Lablache has to say. Then we'll go and
feed."

Bill shrugged. Then,--

"Lablache and I are not on the best of terms," he said doubtfully. He
wished to go notwithstanding his demur. Besides he was anxious to go on
to the ranch to see Jacky. The doubt in his tone gave John his cue, and
the old man refused to be denied.

"Come along," he said, and linking his arm within the other's, he led
the way over to the store; the doctor, equally eager, bringing up the
rear.

Bill suffered himself to be thus led. He knew that in such company
Lablache could not very well refuse him admission to his office. He had
a decided wish to be present when the money-lender told his tale.
However, in this he was doomed to disappointment. Lablache had already
decided upon a plan of action.

At the store the three friends made their way through the crowd of
curious people who had gathered on the unexpected return of the chief
actors in last night's drama; they made their way quickly round to the
back where the private door was.

Lablache was within, and with him Horrocks. The heavy voice of the
money-lender answered "Poker" John's summons.

"Come in."

He was surprised when the door opened, and he saw who his visitors were.
John and the doctor he was prepared for, but "Lord" Bill's coming was a
different matter. For an instant he seriously meditated an angry
objection. Then he altered his mind, a thing which was rare with him.
After all the man's presence could do no harm, and he felt that to
object to him, would be to quarrel with the rancher. On second thoughts
he would tolerate what he considered the intrusion.

Lablache was ensconced in his basket chair, and Horrocks was at the
great man's desk. Neither moved as their visitors entered. The troubles
of the previous night were plainly written on both men's faces. There
was a haggard look in their eyes, and a generally dishevelled appearance
about their dress. Lablache in particular looked unwashed and untidy.
Horrocks looked less troubled, and there was a strong air of
determination about his face.

"Poker" John showed no niceness in broaching the subject of his visit.
His libations had roused him to the proper pitch for plain speaking.

"Well, what happened to you last night, Lablache? I guess you're looking
about as blue as they make 'em. Say, I thought sure Retief was going to
do for you when I heard about it."

"Ah. Who told you about--about me?"

"Your clerk."

"Rodgers?"

"No, Thompson."

"Ah! Have you seen Rodgers at all?"

"No." John turned to the other two. "Have you?"

Neither of the men had seen the clerk, and old John turned again to
Lablache.

"Why, what's happened to Rodgers?"

"Oh, nothing. I haven't seen him since I have been back--that's all."

"Well, now tell us all about last night," went on the rancher. "This
matter is going to be cleared up. I have been thinking of a vigilance
committee. We can't do better."

Lablache shook his great head. To the doctor and "Lord" Bill there
seemed to be an utter hopelessness conveyed in the motion.

"I have nothing to tell. Neither has Horrocks. What happened last night
concerns ourselves alone. You may possibly hear more later on, but the
telling by us now will do no good, and probably a lot of harm. As for
your vigilance committee, form it if you like, but I doubt that you will
do any good with it."

This refusal riled the old rancher. He was just in that condition when
it would take little to make him quarrel. He was about to rap out an
angry retort when a knock came at the partition door. It was Thompson.
He had come to say that the troopers had returned, and wanted to see the
sergeant. Also to say that Rodgers was with them. Horrocks immediately
went out to see them, and, before John could say a word, Lablache turned
on him.

"Look here, John, for the present my lips are sealed. It is Horrocks's
wish. He has a plan which he wishes to carry out quietly. The result of
his plan largely depends upon silence. Retief seems to have sources of
information everywhere. Walls have ears, man. Now, I shall be glad if
you will leave me. I--I must get cleaned up."

John's anger died within him. He saw that Lablache was upset. He looked
absolutely ill. The old man's good nature would not allow him to press
this companion of his ranching life further. There was nothing left for
him to do but leave.

As he rose to go, the money-lender unbent still further.

"I'll see you later, John, I may then be able to tell you more. Perhaps
it may interest you to know that Horrocks has discovered the path across
the keg, and--he's going to cross it. Good-by. So long, Doc."

"Very well, I shall be up at the ranch. Come along, Bill. Jacky, I
expect, is waiting breakfast for us."

Lablache heard the old man's remark as the latter passed out, and a
bitter feeling of resentment rose within him. He felt that everything
was against him. His evil nature, however, would not let him remain long
desponding. He ground his teeth and cursed bitterly. It had only wanted
a fillip such as this to rouse him from the curious lethargic
hopelessness into which the terrible night's doings had cast him.

The moment the three men got away from the store, Doctor Abbot drew
attention to the money-lender's words.

"Going to cross the keg, eh? Well, if he's really discovered the path
it's certainly the best thing to do. He's a sharp man is Horrocks."

"He's a fool!"

Bill's words were so emphatic that both men stared at him. If they were
startled at his words, they were still more startled at the set
expression of his face. Doctor Abbot thought he had never seen the
_insouciant_ Bill so roused out of himself.

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