Grace Harlowe's Overland Riders in the High Sierras

  CHAPTER VII

  BANDITS CATCH A TARTAR

  The blow on the head had left Lieutenant Wingate unconscious. Withoutloss of a minute he was thrown over the back of the horse, in front ofthe rider, like a sack of meal on its way home from the mill, then thehorse started away at a trot.

  After a few moments of violent jolting, consciousness began to return toHippy and he groped for something to take hold of to relieve the strainof his trying position. His fingers finally gripped the boot of hiscaptor.

  Quick as a flash, the bandit brought down the butt of his revolver onthe captive's head, whereupon Hippy went to sleep again, the bloodtrickling from nose and mouth. Other riders, in the meantime, had caughtup with and passed the rider who was carrying him away. From what wassaid it was apparent that Hippy's captor was the leader of the party,for the others deferred to his commands, and, riding on ahead, soondisappeared. The trail grew more and more rugged. On the right a solidgranite wall rose sheer for several hundred feet, while on the left, theside over which Hippy's head was hanging, the ground dropped awaysharply for fully three hundred feet.

  Lieutenant Wingate again began to recover consciousness. It seemed tohim as if all the blood in his body were concentrated in his aching headand neck. He did not realize at the moment how the arms and hands weresmarting from being dragged through bushes and against the rough edgesof rocks, but he did discover that two large lumps had been raised onhis head, one well down towards the base of the brain. Had the secondblow been an inch farther down, it probably would have killed him.

  His head becoming clearer, Hippy began to consider his situation--tothink what he could do to extricate himself from his uncomfortable andperilous position. His train of thought was suddenly interrupted by anexclamation from the bandit and a sharp pressure of a spur against thepony's side. Hippy could feel the rider's leg contract as the spur wasdriven home. The pony reared and threatened to buck, but, evidentlychanging its mind, started away at a jolting trot.

  The interruption had served one good purpose: it had given Hippy anopportunity to get one hand up to his shirt, where the hand fumbled fora few perilous seconds, then dropped cautiously to its former position.That hand now held a pin. Miserable as he was, Hippy smiled grimly andpricked the pony's side with the pin.

  The bandit roared as the animal jumped, and again applied the spur,followed instantly by a jab of Hippy's new weapon, the pin. A lively fewseconds ensued, and the pony bucked so effectively that its rider hadall he could do to stick to the saddle, and at the same time manage hiscaptive and the reins. Hippy jabbed the pin in again and again, thoughevery buck of the animal nearly broke the Overlander in two.

  A few seconds of this treatment and the end came suddenly. With a finalhumping of its back in a buck that lifted all four feet from the ground,the pony went up into the air with arching back and with head heldstiffly close to its forefeet. The bandit threw all the strength of onehand into an effort to jerk that stubborn head back where it belonged,while the other hand grabbed desperately for the body of the captive,which was slowly slipping away. The bandit, as a result, came a cropperover the pony's head. Hippy wriggled and slipped off, shooting headfirst down the sharp incline of smooth rocks that fell away from theleft side of the trail. The pony galloped away a few rods; then,halting, gazed about him uneasily.

  The bandit, after a few dazed seconds, got up and started for his mount,then halting suddenly began searching for his captive. Hippy Wingate wasnowhere in sight, though his captor found where his body had crusheddown the bushes as it slipped from the trail. The bandit finally gave itup, and, catching his pony, quickly rode away.

  "No use. He's done for," growled the man before leaving the scene. "He'sgone clear to the bottom, mashed flat as a flapjack."

  The hoof-beats of the pony had no sooner died away than Hippy Wingate'shead was cautiously raised from behind the roots of a tree that clung tothe side of the mountain, gripped into a deep crevice for anchorage.

  "I'm not a flapjack just yet, old top," he muttered. "I may be if I amnot careful how I move about. I suppose I ought to hang on here tilldaylight, but those fellows may come back. They can't afford to let meget away. I know too much."

  "No Use. He's Done For!"]

  Hippy began crawling cautiously toward the trail, and finally gainingit, sat down to think over what he had better do next. He felt for hisrevolver and was relieved to find that it had not been taken from him,and thus fortified, he decided that the prudent course would be to finda hiding place and wait there for daylight, so he started away, takingthe back track, which he followed until it had so widened that he wasunable to keep to the trail. He then branched off to the right, holdingas straight a course as possible. The trickle of water caught his ear,and, a moment later, Hippy was flat on his stomach, drinking long, deepdraughts from a tiny mountain stream. He then bathed his face and headand his smarting, swollen arms. He knew that he ought to be moving, butwhat direction to take was the question. Being a good woodsman, he knewthat to wander aimlessly about in the night surely would result inlosing himself completely.

  After searching about for some time, Lieutenant Wingate found a highrock suited to his purpose. He climbed up and sat down.

  "The scoundrels will have to move quickly if they get me this time," hemuttered. "They'll--" Hippy's head drooped, and he sank slowly to therock fast asleep.

  When he again opened his eyes the sun was shining down into them, andhis cheeks felt as if they were on fire.

  "Morning! Who would think it?" he exclaimed.

  Without wasting time, he made his way back to the stream where he drankand bathed. Now came the question as to the course he should follow.

  "It is probable that some of my outfit will remain by the railroad wherethe hold-up occurred," he reflected. "That's where I am going."

  After a final look at the sun, Hippy started back briskly. He did notfollow the trail, believing that he could find a more direct course, andthat such a course eventually would lead him to the railroad a shortdistance to the west of where he had been the previous evening.

  It was nearly noon when Hippy first began to realize that he was hungry.He had not thought of breakfast, nor would it have done him any good hadhe thought of it. An hour later he found a berry bush and ate all thefruit it held. That helped a little and he again plodded on. About fouro'clock that afternoon he reached the railroad, and, not long afterthat, he was trotting around the bend to the scene of the hold-up. Theplace was deserted. Hippy fired a signal from his revolver and listened.There was no reply. A rabbit hopped across the tracks. He fired twice atit, missing each time.

  "There goes my supper!" he exclaimed ruefully. "Next time I sight gameI'll throw a stone at it. I reckon I can throw stones better than I canshoot. I should have thought my friends would wait for me."

  Hippy did discover where the Overland ponies had been unloaded, then heunderstood that his companions had gone in search of him. This knowledgeheartened him up a great deal, and he immediately set himself to work todiscover which way the party had gone. What he was looking for was thetrail of his own pony, whose shoeprints he believed he would be able toidentify instantly. Hippy picked up the trail in a remarkably shorttime.

  "Here I go. I've got to travel some if I am to catch them before dark,"he cried, starting away.

  Darkness found Lieutenant Wingate wandering aimlessly near the placewhere the trail forked and where his companions were now discussingtheir further plans for the morrow. He concluded that he would have tospend another night in the open and alone, and had just ensconcedhimself on the highest ledge he could find when he caught sight of thelight from Sheriff Ford's camp-fire. Hippy gazed at it for some moments,then raised his revolver and fired three shots.

  The camp-fire was suddenly blotted out.

  "There! I've shot out the fire," he grumbled. "Just the same, I don'tbelieve it is the bandit camp, and I'm going down."

  Moving with ex
treme caution, Hippy crept down the mountain-side until hebelieved that he was near the place where he had seen the fire.

  "I reckon there's nothing doing, boys," Ford was saying. "Light thefire, but keep a sharp lookout."

  Hippy got up. Stacy's keen eyes discovered him and the fat boy fired.

  "Hi, there! Cut the firing! It's Hippy," called Lieutenant Wingate,ducking.

  "Oh, wow!" howled Chunky.

  A shout went up from the searching party when Hippy called out hiswarning, and he was fairly dragged into camp where Sheriff Fordhurriedly started a cook-fire and put over coffee as a starter. Whilethis was being done, Lieutenant Wingate briefly related the story of hiscapture and escape.

  "You say you know the man who was on foot when you were taken?" askedTom Gray.

  "Yes, I know him."

  "Give me one guess and see if I can name him," spoke up Sheriff Ford,straightening up, frying-pan in hand.

  "It's yours. Who is he?" laughed Lieutenant Wingate.

  "Our story-telling friend of the Red Limited, William Sylvester Holmes,"replied Ford confidently.

  "You win," chuckled Hippy. "How did you guess it?"

  "I was suspicious of him all the time. At Summit my suspicions were, ina way, confirmed. He sent telegrams from there that, I now believe,informed the gang about the treasure car."

  "Was there really a treasure car on the train, Ford?" asked Tom.

  "You might call it that. There was nearly three million dollars in goldon that car. Pretty good haul, eh? I reckon the authorities of thiscounty will be glad to hear what you have to tell them. I will go toGardner with you and we'll have a confab with the sheriff there, if youwill spare the time."

  "Sure we will," spoke up Stacy. "We riders have to keep busy, you know."

  "It strikes me that you have been rather busy since I first met you,"returned the sheriff.

  "What are your wishes, to go through to-night or wait until morning andget an early start?" he asked the two passengers.

  "I'll flag a train for myself down by the bend and you men can ridethrough. You can't miss the way. There is a good trail all the way fromhere to Gardner, and you should be there by early afternoon."

  The two passengers said that, if the sheriff would flag the train forthem, they would prefer to go by train too, as they were in haste toreach their destination on the coast, important business awaiting themthere.

  "All right. I'll flag the next train after we get to the rails and putyou two men aboard. I can then ride through with these three Overlandmen. I'd prefer a hoss to a Pullman any time."

  The party made themselves as comfortable as they could, sleeping on theground, and before daylight next morning Mr. Ford had breakfast ready.Hippy was stiff and his hat hurt his head, but he made light of hisdiscomfiture and was ready for the start which was made before sunup.Ford made good his word to stop the next train, which proved to be alocal, and there was not so much grumbling by the train crew as therewould have been had the train been a limited one.

  The horseback ride that day was a hard one, but all were used to thesaddle, and Sheriff Ford, himself a "rough-rider," was interested in theriding of the three Overlanders. By this time he had grown to understandStacy Brown better, and his laughter at the boy's sallies was loud andappreciative. Late in the afternoon the delayed party rode into Gardnerwhere a warm welcome awaited them from the Overland girls, who hadalready arranged for a posse to go out to look for the missing ones.

  The authorities were keenly interested in the information that SheriffFord and the three Overland men had to offer, and declared theirintention of starting out in an effort to round up the gang. Thatevening there was a genuine reunion of the Overlanders at which theirfurther plans were discussed. It was left to Hippy to find a guide,while Stacy was to select the pack animals, and the girls the food andother equipment for the journey. The results of their quests weredestined to furnish much amusement on the following day.