Boy Scouts on the Range

  CHAPTER XVIII.

  THE INDIAN AGENT.

  From the dense surrounding clumps of chaparral there had suddenlyemerged the figure of a tall, bearded man, with keen blue eyes and astriking air of self-reliance and resolution. It was Mr. Mayberry, theIndian agent. Over his arm he carried an automatic rifle, which heinstantly jerked to his shoulder as his amazed eyes fell on theextraordinary scene before him. Surely Jeffries Mayberry was the firstman who had ever gazed upon the spectacle of a boy, unarmed and alone,attacking the hugest grizzly in that part of the country.

  "The boy is mad!" was his first thought, and, as we know, he was not farwrong in this surmise.

  But it was no time for speculation as to the causes of this strangescene, and Jeffries Mayberry was not the man to indulge in ruminationwhen the necessity called for immediate action.

  Bang!

  For the twentieth--or was it the hundredth?--time in his eventful life,Silver Tip felt the impingement of a bullet. But with the monster'susual good fortune, the ball did not pierce a vital part. Instead, itburied itself in the fleshy part of the brute's forequarters, inflictinga wound that made him bellow with pain and face round on this new foe.

  As Silver Tip, in regal majesty, swung his huge form about, Rob crumpledup in a heap and lay senseless on the hot ground.

  For an instant it looked as if the great monarch of the Santa Catapinasmeant to attack the Indian agent. But it seemed that he changed his mindas he faced him. An animal so relentlessly hunted, and so often woundedas Silver Tip, becomes endowed with almost human cunning and reasoningpower, and part of Silver Tip's immunity from mortal wounds haddoubtless been due to this. Most grizzlies, when wounded, chargefuriously on their tormentors, thus assuring their fatal injury. Thesehad never been Silver Tip's tactics. He had always preferred to "fightand run away, and live to fight some other day."

  So it was now. For the space of a breath, the two splendid specimens ofhuman kind and the animal kingdom stared into each other's eyes. In hisadmiration of the magnificent brute before him, Jeffries Mayberry heldhis fire. He could not bring himself to kill the splendid creatureunless such an action became necessary in self-defense. Were there morehunters like him, our forests and plains would not have becomedevastated of many of the species once so plentiful among them.

  Suddenly the bear's eyes turned away under the steady scrutiny of theplainsman, and with a growl that was half a whine, he dropped on allfours and lumbered off.

  "Lucky for you you didn't hurt this boy, or even your splendid majestywouldn't have saved you," muttered Jeffries Mayberry, reaching theunconscious Rob's side in three or four rapid strides.

  "Hum! in bad shape," he murmured, laying open the boy's blue flannelshirt and placing a hand over his heart. "Good thing I happened alongwhen I did, and---- Hullo!" he gave a long, low whistle of astonishment."It's one of those kids that my bad boy Moquis held up this side ofMesaville. Well, here's a discovery."

  He stood erect, and placing his fingers to his lips, blew a shrill,piercing call.

  The next instant a splendid cream-colored horse came bounding into theclearing, shaking his head impatiently and whinnying as his large liquideyes fell on his master.

  "Here, Ranger," said Mayberry, addressing the beautiful steed as if ithad possessed the faculty of understanding. "Here is a poor boy overcomefor want of food and water, and I think he's got a touch of the sun.We've got to get him home, Ranger."

  Ranger pawed the ground with one forefoot and his nostrils dilated. Hiskeen senses indicated to him that a bear had been about, and if thereis one creature of which Western horses are thoroughly afraid it is hismajesty, King Bruin.

  Perceiving this, Mayberry spoke a few reassuring words to the splendidhorse, which instantly quieted down, though it still glancedapprehensively about it. The Indian agent's next action was to placeRob's senseless form across the saddle, while he himself swung rapidlyup behind the cantle.

  Lightly pressing the rein to the left side of his horse's glossy neck,the Indian agent urged it forward into the chaparral. Ranger's daintyskin shivered at the rough touch of the prickly stuff, but he wentunflinchingly in the direction his master guided him.

  After an hour or more of riding, Mayberry emerged on a curiously locatedopen space. It lay at the bottom of a saucer-like depression, whichmight, in some remote day, have been a volcanic fire basin. Now,however, it was covered with a luxuriant growth of wild oats, and at thebottom bubbled up a little spring. All about it shot up scarredmountain sides, with scanty timber hanging to their rocky ribs. In themidst of this isolation and wilderness it looked strange to see a smallcabin located. It was somewhat tumbledown, to be sure, and had, in fact,been erected there in the early fifties by a wandering prospector.Jeffries Mayberry, seeking a convenient spot from which to keep up hissurveillance over his Moquis, had stumbled upon it by accident, and withan old woodsman's skill had rendered it quite habitable.

  So, at least, Rob thought, when half an hour later he recoveredconsciousness in the cool gloom of the shanty. He was lying on a bed offragrant boughs, and above him was the shingle roof of the hut, throughholes in which he could see the blue sky.

  "Where on earth am I?" was Rob's first thought, as consciousness rushedback like a tide that has been temporarily stemmed.

  Gradually the events preceding his collapse grew clear to him, and heretraced recent happenings up to the appearance of the grizzly. Of hisdelirious attack upon the monster, he had, of course, no recollection.

  "I must get up and find out where this is, and how I got here," wasRob's first thought, and with this intention he rose to his feet. To hisintense astonishment, the room instantly whirled dizzily about him, andthe earthen floor seemed to rise and smite him in the face. What hadhappened was that the weakened boy had fallen headlong. As he lay there,a hearty voice rang out in an amused tone:

  "Hello, hello! Pretty weak, ain't you, for a boy who wanted to fightgrizzlies with his bare hands?"

  Rob looked up. The big form of Jeffries Mayberry stood framed in thedoorway.

  He came forward and, gently as a woman, placed Rob on the couch.

  "Why--why, it's Mr. Mayberry!" gasped Rob, as his eyes fell on hiscompanion's kindly, bearded features.

  "Yes, it's me, right enough," laughed the Indian agent. "And now, ifyou'll lie quiet for a minute, I'll see how some rabbit stew is gettingalong. How does that sound?"

  "Fine!" smiled Rob, and, indeed, the mention of food had set all hisappetite on edge again. "But see here, Mr. Mayberry, I don't want to bebabied this way. I'm going to get up and----"

  "You are going to do nothing of the sort," exclaimed the Indian agent."Here, Ranger." Again he gave the peculiar whistle, and Ranger's daintyhead appeared inquiringly in the doorway.

  "Watch that boy, Ranger, and if he tries to get up--grab him!"

  With these words, the kind-hearted Indian agent vanished, to superintendthe composition of the stew he was making over a camp fire outside.

  "Well," thought Rob, "this is a funny situation. I'm in a hut, andhaven't the least idea how I got here. A horse is set to guard me,and---- I wonder," he went on, "if that horse is really a watch dog, orif that was just a bluff."

  It was a good evidence of Rob's returning vitality that he stretchedout a foot to test Ranger's watchfulness.

  Instantly the sharp, pointed ears lay flat back on the horse's head, andthe whites of his eyes showed menacingly.

  "I guess I'll stay here!" laughed Rob.

  As soon as he resumed his posture, Ranger's ears came forward, and thekind light came back into his eyes.

  "I've heard of horses that were broken that way," thought Rob, "but thisis the first I have ever seen."

  Had Rob known it, such horses as Ranger--animals trained to the samewonderful pitch of intelligence--are not uncommon in the Southwest.Presently Mr. Mayberry appeared with a bowl of what to Rob smelled moreappetizing than anything he had ever known.

  "Ah-h-h-h-h!" he exclaimed, as his nostrils caught the s
avor.

  "Wade in," said Mr. Mayberry, placing the dish on a rough, home-madetable by his side. And "wade in" Rob did. He could have finished half adozen more bowls like it--or so he felt--but Mr. Mayberry told him thatafter such a fast as he had endured it was important to "go slow."

  So much better was the boy after dispatching the meal that he was ableto get up, and after a short time spent in staggering about, he quiterecovered his faculties.

  "Now," said Mr. Mayberry, "tell me how you came to be where I foundyou?"

  Rob told him, his narrative being interrupted from time to time byexclamations of astonishment from the Indian agent.

  "This youth, Clark Jennings," interrupted Mr. Mayberry once, "has been athorn in my side for years. His father is almost as bad. They havefrequently committed all sorts of outrages on ranchers and implicatedthe Indians in them. Not only that, but they have paid the mostunprincipled of the Moquis to help them in their cattle stealing andfence cutting."

  "I wonder they haven't ever been captured," said Rob.

  "Well," said Mr. Mayberry, "as the saying goes, it is almost impossibleto 'get the goods' on them. And you say you know this cousin of his fromthe East, and his companions?"

  "Very well," rejoined Rob, "some time I will tell you about ourexperiences in the East with their gang. They actually kidnapped one ofour Boy Scouts, and imprisoned him in a hut."

  "Why, they could have been imprisoned for that!"

  "They would have been if it had not been for the fact that they fled tothe West."

  Rob soon concluded his narration, and Mr. Mayberry then related to himsome of his own movements of the last few days. Despairing of roundingup the Moquis by moral suasion, he had telegraphed to Fort Miles for adetachment of troops. He was to meet them the next evening at SentinelPeak, a mountain about ten miles from his present camping-place. TheIndian agent had succeeded in locating the valley in which the greatSnake Dance was to be held, and, in consequence, was ready to raid itwith the troops at the height of the ceremonies.

  "Such an action will break up their practices for many years," hedeclared.

  "When are you going to start for the peak?" asked Rob.

  "I had not intended to leave till to-morrow," said Mr. Mayberry, "butsince you have told me you are anxious that your friends should beinformed of your safety, I must start this evening in order to reach asettlement from which I can telephone to the Harkness ranch."

  Rob's heart sank. Mr. Mayberry had not said "we." The boy had hoped itwould be possible for him to go along. The Indian agent saw his manifestdisappointment and hastened to reassure him.

  "I would gladly take you," he said, "but it is too arduous a trip foreven Ranger to carry more than one. You will be safe here till I returnwith the troops. I will come by here with an extra horse, and, ifpossible, with your friends, and then we will ride together on theMoquis."

  A shrill whinny suddenly sounded outside.

  "Hullo, what's the matter with Ranger?" exclaimed Mr. Mayberry,springing up, followed by Rob.

  Outside the hut the boy saw a strange sight. The splendid horse wasgazing about him apprehensively, and stamping the ground impatiently.His nostrils were dilated, showing red inside, and his whole appearancewas one of intense nervousness.

  "What's the matter with him?" asked Rob, noting in a swift glance thatMr. Mayberry's face had become suddenly clouded.

  "Well," said Mayberry succinctly, "there are only two things which makehim act like that--Indians and bears--and I reckon there are no bearsabout right now.

  "But Ranger scents danger," he went on. "I am certain of it. Old horse,you'll have to carry double, after all."