CHAPTER VIII
"A TIMBER WOLF IN HIS OWN COUNTRY"
When The Orphan said good-by to Bill he sat quietly in his saddle for aminute watching the departing stage and wondered how it was that he hadthe decency to avoid a fight with the cowboys in the presence of thewomen. Then Helen's words came to him and he smiled at the idea of peacewhen he would have to fight the outfit before sundown. The heat of the sunon his bare head recalled him from his mental wanderings and he wheeledabruptly and galloped along the trail to where he remembered that a tiny,blood-stained handkerchief lay in the dust and sand. Soon he espied itand, swinging over in the saddle, deftly picked it up and regained hisupright position, his head reeling at the effort. Unfolding it he examinedthe neat "H" done in silk in one corner and smiled as he put it in hischaps pocket where he kept his extra ammunition.
"Peace and war in one pocket," he muttered, grinning at his cartridges'new and unusual companion.
Then he espied a Winchester near a fallen brave, and he procured it as hehad the handkerchief. Describing an arc he picked up another, discardingit after he had emptied the magazine, for ammunition was what he wanted.Two Winchesters were all right, but three were too many. As he threw itfrom him he glanced through a slight opening in the chaparral and saw theoutfit approach the stage. Then he galloped to where his sombrero lay,picked it up and turned to the south for the Cimarron Trail. Whenthoroughly screened by the chaparral he pushed on with the swinging lopewhich his horse could maintain for hours, and which ate up distance inan astonishing manner. He had lost time in going for his sombrero andthe handkerchief, and every minute before nightfall was precious. Histhoughts now bent to the problem of how either to elude or ambush hispursuers, and the Winchesters bespoke his forethought, for up to sixhundred yards they were not a pleasant proposition to face. If heeluded the cowboys in the darkness he was morally certain that theywould take up his trail at dawn, and what distance he had gained would beat the expense of the freshness of his horse. While he would average tenmiles an hour through the night, their mounts, freshened by a night'srest, might cut down his gain before the nightfall of the next day.
One of the Winchesters worked loose from its lashings and started to slidetoward the ground. He quickly grasped it and made it secure, smiling atthe number of rifles he had had and lost during the past three weeks.
"Funny how this country has been shedding Winchesters lately," he mused."There was the five I got by the big bowlder, which I lost playing tagwith that d----d Cross Bar-8 gang, and here's two more, and I just leftthree what I didn't want. Well, they're real handy for stopping a rush,and I reckons that's what I'm up against this time. If I can find alikely spot for a scrap before dark I may stop that gang in bang-upstyle, d----n them."
Half an hour later he caught sight of a moving body of horsemen to thesoutheast of him and his glasses enabled him to make them out.
"'Paches!" he exclaimed, and then he smiled grimly and continued on hisway toward them, taking care to keep himself screened from their sightby rises and chaparrals. His first thought had been of danger, but nowhe laughed at the cards fate had put in his hand, for he would use theIndians to great advantage later on.
He counted them and made their number to be twenty-two, which accountedfor the five warriors who had pursued the stage coach. The odds were fineand he laughed joyously, recklessly: "All is fair in love and war," hemuttered savagely.
Before the Indians had come upon the scene he had been alone to facefive angry and vengeful men, and whom he had every reason to believewere at least fair fighters. Had the positions been reversed they wouldnot have hesitated to make use of any stratagem to save themselves--andhere were two contingents, both of which would take his life at the firstopportunity. He felt no distaste at the game he was about to play; onthe other hand, it pleased him immensely to know that he was superiorin intellect to his enemies. They both wanted blood, and they shouldhave it. If they found too much, well and good--that was their lookout.And no less pleasing was the knowledge that he had sent them north andthat now he could make use of them. He wondered what they had been doingfor the last three weeks and why they were still in that part of thecountry, but he did not care, for they were where he wanted them to be.
"Twenty-two mad Apaches on the warpath against five cow-wrastlers!"he exulted. "More than four to one, and just aching to get square onsomebody! That Cross Bar-8 gang will have something to weep about purtyd----n soon! And I shore hope they don't get tired and quit chasing me."
He stopped and waited when he had gained a screened position from wherehe could look back over his trail, and he had not long to wait, for soonhe saw five cowboys galloping hard in his direction. Another look tothe southeast showed him that the war party was now riding slowly towardhim, not knowing of his presence, and they would arrive at his coverat about the same time the cowboys would come up. Neither the Indiansnor the cowboys knew of the proximity of the other, while The Orphancould see them both. He glanced at the thicket to the west of him andsaw that it was thin, being a connecting link between the two largerchaparrals.
"I don't know how you are on the jump, bronch," he said to his mount, "butI reckon you can get through that, all right."
The cowboys disappeared from his sight behind the northern chaparral,and as they did so he sunk his spurs into his horse and rode straight atthe prickly screen and, going partly over and partly through it, gallopedwestward as the war party and the ranch contingent met. The shots andyells were as music to his ears, and he bowed in mockery and waved hishand at the turmoil as he made his escape. The timber wolf had won.