CHAPTER XVI
NEWS AND A THREAT
A stampede of mad cattle is like the charge of a blind and insanemonster. River, nor ravine, nor any other obstruction can halt the madrush of the horned beasts. They pile right into it, and only if it istoo steep or too high do they split and go around.
A stampede of horses is different in that the equine brain appreciatesdanger more clearly than that of the sullen steer. Behind a cattlestampede is often left an aftermath of dead and crippled beasts. Buthorses are more canny. A wild horse seldom breaks a leg or suffers otherinjury. It is not often that the picked skeleton of a horse is found inthe hills.
This herd belonging to the Hubbell ranch charged through the nightdirectly across the trail along which the moving picture company wasriding. Those on horseback could probably escape; but the motor-carscould not be driven very rapidly over the rough road.
The girls screamed as the cars bumped and jounced. Out of the darknessappeared the up-reared heads and tossing manes of the ponies. There werepossibly three hundred in the herd, and they ran _en masse,_ snortingand neighing, mad with that fear of the unknown which is always at theroot of every stampede.
The automobile in which Ruth Fielding and her two friends, Helen andJennie, were seated was the last of the string. It seemed as though itcould not possibly escape the stampede of half-wild ponies, even if theother cars did.
"Get down in the car, girls!" shouted Ruth, suiting her action to herword. "Don't try to jump or stand up. Stoop!"
There was good reason for her command. The plunging horses seemed almostupon the car. Indeed one leader--a big black stallion,--snorting andblowing, jumped over the rear of the car, clearing it completely, andbounded away upon the other side of the trail.
He was ahead of the main stampede, however. All that found the motor-carin the path could not perform his feat. Some would be sure to plungeinto the car where Ruth and Helen and Jennie crouched.
Suddenly there rode into view, coming from the head of the string ofcars, a wild rider, plying whip and heel to maddened pinto pony.
"Wonota! Go back! You'll be killed!" shrieked Ruth. And then she added:"The picture will be ruined if you are hurt."
Even had the Indian girl heard Ruth's cry she would have given it smallattention. Wonota was less fearful of the charging ponies than were thepunchers and professional riders working for Mr. Hammond.
At least, she was the first to visualize the danger threatening thegirls in the motor-car, and she did not wait to be told what to do. Upahead the men were shouting and telling each other that Miss Fieldingwas in danger. But Wonota went at the charging horses without question.
She forced her snorting pinto directly between the motor-car and thestampede. She lashed the foremost horses across their faces with herquirt. She wheeled her mount and kept on beside the motor-car as itsdriver tried to speed up along the trail.
The mad herd seemed intent on keeping with the motor-train. Wonota gavethe pinto his head and lent her entire attention to striking at thefirst horses in the stampede. Her quirt brought squeals of pain frommore than one of the charging animals.
She fell in behind the car at last, and the scattering members of thestampede swept by. Back charged several of the pony riders, but toolate to give any aid. The chauffeur of Ruth's car slackened hisdangerous pace and yelled:
"It's all over, you fellers! We might have been trod into the ground forall of you. It takes this Injun gal to turn the trick. I take off my hatto Wonota."
"I guess we all take off our hats to her!" cried Helen, sitting upagain. "She saved us--that is what she did!"
"Good girl, Wonota!" Ruth exclaimed, as the snorting pinto brought itsrider up beside the motor-car again.
"It was little to do," the Indian girl responded modestly. "After allyou have done for me, Miss Fielding. And I am not afraid of horses."
"Them horses was something to be afraid of--believe me!" ejaculated oneof the men. "The gal's a peach of a rider at that."
Here Helen suddenly demanded to know where Jennie was.
"I do believe she's burrowed right through the bottom of this tonneau!"
"Haven't either!" came in the muffled voice of the fleshy girl, and shebegan to rise up from under enveloping robes. "Take your foot off myarm, Nell. You're trampling me awfully. I thought it was one of thosedreadful horses!"
"Well--I--like--that!" gasped Helen.
"I didn't," Jennie groaned, finally coming to the surface--like aporpoise, Ruth gigglingly suggested, to breathe! "I was sure one ofthose awful creatures was stamping on me. If I haven't suffered _this_day! Such spots as were not already black and blue, are now properlybruised. I shall be a sight."
"Poor Heavy!" said Ruth. "You always have the hard part. But, thankgoodness, we escaped in safety!"
"Do let's go to a hotel somewhere and stay a week to recuperate," beggedthe fleshy girl, as they rode on toward the railroad town. "One day ofmovie making calls for a week of rest--believe me!"
"You and Helen can remain at the car--"
"Not me!" cried Helen Cameron. "I do not wish to be in the pictureagain, but I want to see it made."
After they arrived at the special car, where a piping hot supper wasready for them, the girls forgot the shock of their adventure. Jennie,however, groaned whenever she moved.
"'Tis too bad that fat girl got so bunged up," observed one of thepunchers to Helen Cameron. "I see she's a-sufferin'."
"Miss Stone's avoirdupois is forever making her trouble," laughed Helen,rather wickedly.
"Huh?" demanded the man. "Alfy Dupoy? Who's that? Her feller?"
"Oh, dear me, no!" gasped Helen. "_His_ name is Henri Marchand. I shallhave to tell her that."
"Needn't mind," returned the man. "I can't be blamed formisunderstanding half what you Easterners say. You got me locoed rightfrom the start."
The joke had to be told when the three friends retired that night, andit was perhaps fortunate that Jennie Stone possessed an equabledisposition.
"I am the butt of everybody's joke," she said, complacently. "That iswhat makes me so popular. You see, you skinny girls are scarcelynoticed. It is me the men-folk give their attention to."
"Isn't it nice to be so perfectly satisfied with one's self?" observedHelen, scornfully. "Come on, Ruthie! Let's sleep on that."
There were other topics to excite the friends in the morning, evenbefore the company got away for the "location." Mail which had followedthem across the continent was brought up from the post-office to thespecial car. Helen and Ruth were both delighted to receive letters fromCaptain Tom.
In the one to Ruth the young man acknowledged the receipt of her letterbearing on the matter of Chief Totantora. He said that news of thecaptured Wild West performers had drifted through the lines long beforethe armistice, and that he had now set in motion an inquiry which mightyield some important news of the missing Osage chieftain--if he was yetalive--before many weeks. As for his own return, Tom could not thenstate anything with certainty.
* * * * *
"Nobody seems to know," he wrote. "It is all on the knees of thegods--and a badgered War Department. But perhaps I shall be with you,dear Ruth, before long."
* * * * *
Ruth did not show her letter to her girl friends. Jennie had received nonews from Henri, and this disaster troubled her more than her bruisedflesh. She went around with a sober face for at least an hour--which wasa long time for Jennie Stone to be morose.
William, the driver who had handled the emigrant wagon the day before,came along as the men were saddling the ponies for the ride out to theranch. He had an open letter in his hand that he had evidently justreceived.
"Say!" he drawled, "didn't I hear something about you taking this Injungal away from Dakota Joe's show? Ain't that so, Miss Fielding?"
"Her contract with that man ran out and Mr. Hammond hired her," Ruthexplained.
"And that left the show flat in Chi
cago?" pursued William.
"It was in Chicago the last we saw of it," agreed Ruth. "But Wonota hadleft Dakota Joe's employ long before that--while the show was in NewEngland."
"Wal, I don't know how that is," said William. "I got a letter from afriend of mine that's been ridin' with Dakota Joe. He says the show'sdone busted and Joe lays it to his losing this Injun gal. Joe's a mightymean man. He threatens to come out here and bust up this whole company,"and William grinned.
"You want to tell Mr. Hammond that," said Ruth, shortly.
"I did," chuckled William. "But he don't seem impressed none. However,Miss Fielding, I want to say that Dakota Joe has done some mighty meantricks in his day. Everybody knows him around here--yes, ma'am! If hecomes here, better keep your eyes open."