CHAPTER III
MYSTERY
Awaiting events did not seem a very thrilling occupation. Of course,there was always John Big Moose's tutoring to fill in the gaps, but thatwas less thrilling than just waiting, if possible. The teaching tookplace in the big living-room of the ranch house, a room with a greatstone fireplace, the stone for which had been carted down from themountains; with walls decorated with Indian trophies--tomahawks, bowsand arrows, stone pipes and hatchets, knives--and with beadwork,snowshoes, and many other interesting things. All these were enough totake a fellow's mind off his lessons, and besides there was the floor,with its bear and moose and panther skins, each with its history.
And outside, viewed through the big windows, was the rolling prairie,with the touch of early fall on it, sometimes revealed in a lightcurtain of haze, at which a fellow could gaze and imagine he saw thesquaws of the savage tribes gathering the maize for the coming winter'sstore, while the braves rode off to hunt the buffalo.
Yes, it was rather distracting, but John Big Moose was very patientabout the lessons, though he had been eager for knowledge himself. Hehad worked his way through a Western college, spurred on by the hope ofbettering his people, the Dakotas, and he _had_ bettered them. And whenMr. Sherwood, Whitey's father, had gone East, with the understandingthat John was to tutor Whitey and Injun, John had resolved to do hisbest.
But this other Injun, Whitey's pal, was not what you might call eagerfor knowledge. Reading and writing were all right, and might be put tosome practical use, but arithmetic seemed rather useless, and when itcame to the "higher branches," geometry and trigonometry, they loomed upto Injun like a bugbear of the future. In his heart Injun pined for histruly loved field of study--the great outdoors.
But presently there came a slight break in the dull routine of words andfigures--a half-holiday. The first shipment of ore was to be made fromthe mine. John Big Moose represented his tribe's interest in this mine,and he was to go and inspect operations. The ore was to come down fromthe mountain in sacks, loaded on horse and muleback, and to be deliveredto the railroad at the Junction, a small settlement about twenty milessouth of the ranch.
The boys thought that as they were stock-holders in the mine, they oughtto go along and attend to this matter, too, but John couldn't see itthat way. He compromised on a half-holiday for them; study in themorning, freedom in the afternoon. So that morning they stuck to theirlessons. With John there to oversee them they might neglect theirstudies. With him away, and the boys placed on their honor, the thingwasn't to be thought of.
And here it might be repeated that Injun had a very strong sense ofhonor. He had faults, as most of us have, but breaking promises, or whathe considered as promises, was not among them.
So that afternoon, as Injun and Whitey could not be with the shipment ofore, they did the next best thing. They rode off into the foothills.And on a grassy hill that commanded a widespread view of the plains,they looked far off over the prairie. And winding across it, clear offnear the horizon, they saw tiny specks which represented mules andhorses, laden with the sacks of precious ore, and its escort ofcowpunchers.
That evening it was lonely at the ranch, Bill Jordan and the other menbeing at the Junction. String Beans nursed his sore foot, and Hamprepared dinner, which Injun had with Whitey in the ranch house. Timepassed and still the men did not return. Evidently they were celebratingthe shipment of the mine's first output, or waiting to see it put safelyaboard the train at the Junction. So Whitey invited Injun to spend thenight, and he accepted willingly, as it gave him a chance to wear thepink pajamas that he loved.
Yawning time had come and passed. Whitey was sleeping soundly anddreamlessly, when he was aroused by a grip on his arm. It was Injun inhis pink pajamas.
"Some one come," he said.
"Mebbe it's Bill and the others," Whitey ventured.
"Not Bill--only one man," Injun replied.
The coming of a man didn't seem important to Whitey, but he knew Injunmust have had something on his mind, or he wouldn't have waked him, andhe waited for his friend to speak more of the words of which he was sosparing. The next speech was not long.
"Look," said Injun, and he went to the window.
Whitey went and looked. There was a faint light in the bunk house, andanother down by the horse corral. As the boys watched, a man came out ofthe bunk house, and even in the dim light Whitey recognized him. He wasString Beans.
"Why," whispered Whitey, "I thought he was lame. He doesn't even limp."
"Him get well," Injun replied.
The light at the corral moved toward and joined that at the bunk house,and the two revealed a man leading three horses.
"It's Whiff!" gasped Whitey. "I thought he was with the men at theJunction."
"Him get back," Injun grunted, with meaning.
Absorbed in the scene being enacted before them, the boys watched insilence.
Bill Jordan had said that Injun slept with his mind open; that mostInjuns did; that if they hadn't done that all these years there wouldn'tbe no Injuns--and no doubt Bill was right. But any way you thought aboutit, it was remarkable that the slight sound outside--the thudding of ahorse's hoofs on soft ground, or the letting down of the bars of thecorral--should have wakened Injun. It probably was not the sound so muchas the sense of something unusual, something threatening. Furthermore,Injun had a different way of figuring things from Whitey. Also he hadbeen awake longer, so his mind had a better start, not being bewilderedby sleep.
"They're up to something," said Whitey.
"Um," grunted Injun.
The two men went into the bunk house and soon came out with another manwho was fat. It undoubtedly was Ham. Each man carried a saddle, whichhe put on a horse. Then they mounted and rode away.
A cloud moved away, like a curtain, and a full moon shed its light overthe scene and into the window. The hour must have been late, for themoon was low. Whitey turned and looked at Injun, who was stolidlywatching the riders disappear.
"Can you beat that?" Whitey demanded. "String Beans walked as well asany one. I'll bet he wasn't hurt at the mine at all. That he was justpretending."
"Uh," muttered Injun.
"Mebbe they've stolen something," continued Whitey.
"No, no come into the house, me hear 'em," said Injun. "In bunk housenothin' to steal."
Suddenly Whitey thought of the negro cook, the only other man on theplace, and demanded, "Where's Slim?"
"Dunno," said Injun, and followed Whitey, who shoved his feet into apair of slippers and ran hastily from the room.
The bunk house was dark, the men having put out their lanterns beforethey rode away. Whitey groped for matches and, finding one, lighted alamp. Slim was nowhere to be seen. Whitey looked at Injun in wonder andalarm. Injun looked at Whitey with no expression of any kind.
"Mebbe they've killed Slim!" cried Whitey.
"Mebbe," Injun agreed.
Sitting Bull had silently followed the boys, and while they wereinvestigating with their eyes, he was doing the same with his nose. Hissearch had led him to a bunk, and with his fore paws on its edge, he wasgazing into it, his head on one side and a very puzzled expression onhis face. Bull rarely barked, except to express great joy, and he neverwas afraid. His nose had told him what was in that bunk; the curiousmovements of the object were what puzzled him. Attracted by the dog'sinterest, Injun and Whitey went to him.
The bedding in the bunk heaved and rolled from side to side. Whiteyreached over rather fearfully and pulled down the upper blankets, andSlim was brought to view. Not only was Slim bound and gagged, but a coatwas tied around his head, to keep him from hearing. In fact, about theonly thing to show that the man was Slim was his black hands.
Injun and Whitey hastily removed the head covering and the gag, andWhitey eagerly asked what had happened. Slim was half choked and veryindignant.
"I dunno what happened to nobody, 'ceptin' to me," he gurgled. "Gimme adrink o' watah. I'se burnin' up."
Wh
ile Whitey held a cup of water to Slim's lips, Injun struggled withhis bonds, and with great difficulty succeeded in releasing him. Whiteyasked a hundred questions meanwhile, none of which Slim answered. Heseemed entirely absorbed in his own troubles, and when he was free, hecarefully felt himself all over.
"Dis is fine foh mah misery, fine!" he said bitterly.
As far as Whitey had ever been able to learn, a "misery" was a sort ofrheumatism.
"How is your misery?" he asked, despairing of getting him to talk aboutanything but himself.
"Tehibul, tehibul," groaned Slim; "an' dey tie me wid a rawhide rope,too, dat jest eat into mah flesh." And Slim looked venomously down atthe lariat that lay at his feet.
"Who tied you?" Whitey inquired.
"I dunno. Wen I wakes up dis yeah rag is bein' jammed into mah mouf, an'dis yeah coat bein' wrapped round mah haid, an' dat dere rope bein'twisted round mah body, till it cuts mah ahms an' legs somethin'scand'lus. I dunno who dey wuz, but dey suttinly wuz thorough," Slimadmitted.
"Then you didn't hear anything?" Whitey demanded.
"Heah? I couldn't 'a' heard a elephant cough," Slim declared.
"Well, Whiff and String Beans and Ham just rode away," said Whitey.
"Dey did?" said Slim. Then an awful thought came to him, and he jumpedto his feet. "Wheah's mah watch?" he cried. He hastily fumbled under thebedclothes, and brought to light an enormous, old-fashioned silverwatch. Then he heaved a sigh of relief. "An' dat Ham gone, too! Now,how'm I goin' t' cook, wid dat misery wuss'n evah?"
It was very plain to Whitey that all Slim could think about the affairwas the way it concerned him personally. Also, there was no doubt in theboy's mind that the absent men were bent on mischief. Bill and the othercowboys were surely making a night of it at the Junction, in celebrationof the gold shipment. Whatever was to be done in the matter Whitey andInjun would have to do. By this time Slim was busily rubbing some horseliniment on his arms and legs.
"Injun and I will see what's to be done. You might as well go to sleep,"Whitey said to him.
"Sleep! Ah couldn't sleep in Mistah Vanderbilt's bed."
"Well, stay awake, then," said Whitey, as he left the bunk house,followed by Injun.
In spite of Injun's belief that the men had not been in the ranch house,the boys took a look around, but nothing had been disturbed. Then, asthey dressed, they talked things over. Whitey was not sorry that BillJordan was away. While not one to think ill of people, Whitey always hadbelieved that String and Ham were queer, and the affairs of the nightseemed to point to the truth of this. If Whitey could learn what sort ofmischief the men were up to, it would be a feather in his cap, and itwould give him great satisfaction to say "I told you so" to Bill, whoalways was so sure of himself. And if he and Injun could prevent theothers from committing that same mischief, the boys would be somethinglike heroes.
As Whitey and Injun talked the matter over, Whitey reviewed what tookplace the night he overheard the whispered conversation in the bunkhouse.
"They talked about the mine," he said to Injun, "and about meeting on acertain date. What day of the month is it?" he asked.
By a miracle Injun happened to know the date, for John Big Moose hadtold him the day in September on which the ore was to be shipped, soInjun answered briefly, "Him thirty."
"That was the date!" cried Whitey. "They said the thirtieth ofSeptember." Other scraps of the men's whispered talk began to come toWhitey's mind, and to have meaning. "They were to meet on that date, andthey did. That's what String Beans was loafing around here for,pretending to be lame. And they rode south. Don't you see?"
"Don't see nothin'," Injun answered.
"Why," Whitey declared, jumping to his feet, "they've gone toward therailroad; toward the water tank, where all the trains stop. I believethey're going to hold up the gold shipment. Come on, Injun, let's getbusy."