CHAPTER IX.

A VISIT FROM THE RAIDERS.

“What has this man done?” continued Uncle John.

“O, he got into a little trouble down there in our settlement, and had to dig out; so he stole the best horse in the state to help him along. That will be the means of getting him into _big_ trouble, if we put our eyes on him; but we don’t much expect to catch him, for the horse he stole can travel for a week at his best pace, and our nags, which were fresh this morning, are pretty nearly whipped.”

“I am sorry that I can give you no information concerning him,” said Uncle John; “but I will tell you what I can do—I can give you some supper, and you can take your pick out of twenty fresh horses in my corral.”

Both the horsemen expressed hearty thanks for this kind offer of assistance, and were prompt to accept it. They didn’t care much for anything to eat, they said, for they were used to going hungry; but they would take a hasty lunch, while Uncle John was getting their fresh horses ready, and if he would put them on a straight course for the nearest ford, they would be much obliged, and would take pleasure in doing as much for him, if he ever came to their settlement.

Ned listened to all this in speechless amazement and alarm. The stolen horse was hitched under the shed, in plain view of the porch, beside which the strangers would dismount, and if it had been daylight, nothing could have saved him from discovery. True, it was dark now—so dark that the boy’s frightened face was effectually concealed,—but Ned knew that the moon would rise in less than a quarter of an hour, and if anything should happen to detain the visitors at the rancho, or if they should take it into their heads to pry into things after they got there, something disagreeable would be sure to happen. Ned did not like to think about it. He accompanied the men to his home, where he made himself very officious, taking charge of their horses, and showing so much anxiety to have them go right into the house, that it is a wonder their suspicions were not aroused. He could scarcely breathe until he saw his father conduct them into the rancho, and close the door behind them.

“What’s the trouble?” asked the herdsman who had been sent out to catch and saddle the fresh horses. “Who are those men, and where are they travelling to at this time of night?”

“I don’t know,” was Ned’s reply. “They want to reach the river as soon as possible, and you had better hurry up and get the horses ready.”

“Humph!” exclaimed the herdsman, as he led the strangers’ nags toward the corral. “Horsethieves, for a dollar!”

Ned did not care what opinions the man formed concerning the visitors, so long as he did not hit upon the right one. It might be dangerous to let any of the servants know that the men were in search of a chestnut horse, with four white feet, and a star in his forehead; for it was very probable that some of them had by this time found out that there was such a horse hitched under the shed, and it would be just like them to say something about it. There were a good many ways in which the strangers might learn all they wanted to know, and Ned would have been glad to hide himself somewhere, until they had taken their departure; but he dared not go away, for fear that, during his absence, his secret might leak out in some way. He hoped to prevent such a calamity by staying there and hurrying the men off when they came out.

Ned walked up and down the porch, in a fever of excitement and suspense, and at the end of a quarter of an hour was greatly relieved to see the herdsman coming with the fresh horses.

“Give them to me,” said Ned, when they had been brought up to the porch. “I’ll hold them until the men come out.”

“Well, you hold one and I’ll hold the other,” answered the herdsman, putting one of the bridles in Ned’s hand. “I want to have a good look at those fellows.”

Ned was almost ready to cry with rage and alarm. He could not send the man away, if he was resolved to remain; and while he was wondering if he had not better go himself and trust to luck, a door at the farther end of the porch, which gave entrance into the kitchen, was opened, and the Mexican cook came out.

This was the man whom George declared to be mean enough for anything. The old cook, who had had charge of the culinary department of the ranche during Mr. Ackerman’s lifetime had been discharged at the request of Ned, who had some fault to find with the man, and this Mexican, who came from, nobody seemed to know where, had been employed to take his place. No one about the ranche liked him. He was an excellent cook, but he was always slipping about the house on tip-toe, as if he were trying to find out something, and seemed to have a way of getting at everything he wanted to know. He walked up the porch in his stealthy, noiseless way, looked all around, to make sure that he was not observed, then bent his face close to Ned’s, and was about to whisper something to him, when he discovered the herdsman, who was standing at the foot of the steps, holding the other horse.

“Who’s that?” he demanded.

“Me!” answered the herdsman.

“O,” said the cook, recognising the voice. “Well, go in and get your supper. It is all ready.”

“I’ll go as soon as I see these visitors off.”

“You’ll go now or you won’t get it at all,” exclaimed the cook. “I shan’t keep it waiting for you. I want to get through in that kitchen some time to-night.”

The herdsman muttered something under his breath, passed the bridle of the horse he was holding up to Ned and went into the kitchen. The Mexican watched him until he disappeared, and then, with another suspicious glance around, came up to Ned.

“I know’ where that horse is,” said he, in a low tone.

“What horse?” Ned almost gasped.

“The one that was stolen.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean,” stammered Ned.

“O, I heard them talking about it in there while I was dishing up the supper to them,” replied the cook, nodding his head as if to say that it was of no use whatever for Ned to feign ignorance of the matter. “He’s a chestnut-colored horse, with four white feet and a star in his forehead. He’s out under that shed now, ‘cause I saw him there! Eh! He belongs to the wife of one of those men inside, and she calls him Silk Stocking; but all the men folks about the ranche poke fun at her and make her mad by calling him Socks. Eh!”

The Mexican poked Ned in the ribs with his finger and straightened up and looked at him. He laughed, too, and seemed to regard the whole matter in the light of an excellent joke—but Ned didn’t.

“Powerful men, those in there,” continued the Mexican, jerking his thumb over his shoulders toward the door. “They carry big revolvers in their belts, and are dead shots; I know it by the looks of ‘em. They’re mad, too—so mad that I wouldn’t give much for the man in whose hands they find that horse.”

“Gracious!” ejaculated Ned, who trembled all over. He wished now from the bottom of his heart that he had told everything at the start; and while he was wondering if it were now too late to do so and escape any very serious consequences, the door opened and the men came out. One look at them was enough to drive all thoughts of confession out of the boy’s mind. How tall and broad-shouldered they were, and how fierce they looked when the light from the lamp in the hall fell full upon their bearded faces. They stood upon the porch for a few seconds, talking with Uncle John and listening to his instructions regarding the course they ought to follow in order to reach the ford, and then they took the bridles from Ned’s hand and were about to mount when a loud, shrill neigh sounded from the direction of the shed.

Three of those who heard it were visibly affected by it. The visitors looked at each other in surprise, while Ned leaned heavily upon the railing of the porch for support. If there had been no railing there he would have fallen to the ground, for there was no strength in him.

“That sounds wonderfully like Sock’s voice, doesn’t it?” exclaimed one of the visitors.

The other replied that it certainly did.

“What horse is that out there under the shed,” asked Uncle John.

“It’s Ned’s old cob, sir,” said the cook, promptly; and Ned was glad that the man answered for him, for he could not have uttered a word to save his life. Frightened as he was he wandered at the cook’s reply. Why did he not say that the stolen horse was there, and claim the liberal reward that had probably been offered for his recovery?

“I never heard anything sound so much like Socks’s neigh in my life,” declared one of the visitors, as he jumped into the saddle. “But of course it can’t be, for the horse is a long way from here by this time. Mr. Ackerman, we are indebted to you for your kindness and hospitality.”

“You are very welcome,” answered Uncle John. “I am only sorry that I can’t do more for you.”

The visitors lifted their hats and rode away out of sight; Uncle John turned about and went into the house; the cook returned to his quarters in the kitchen, and Ned was left alone clinging to the railing of the verandah. He could hardly believe that the trying scenes through which he had just passed were realities. They seemed more like a troubled dream.

“If anybody can come as near getting caught as I did and yet escape, I’d like to see him do it,” thought Ned, when his mind became settled so that he could think at all. “I never heard of a closer shave, and I don’t believe there ever was one.”

Ned was not very highly elated over his escape, for he knew that he was not yet wholly out of danger. On the contrary, he would never be out of danger while that horse was in his possession. Those two men would come back some day to return the horses they had borrowed of Uncle John and reclaim their own, and they might come, too, when they were least expected, and before Ned had opportunity to secrete the stolen horse. It was too late now to avoid trouble by giving the animal up to his lawful owner, for the latter would want to know why he had not given him up before, and Ned did not know what answer he could make to so awkward a question as that. Besides, there was Philip, the Mexican cook. Ned grew angry and alarmed every time he thought of him. The man was up to something beyond a doubt, for if he were not, what was the reason he did not tell the strangers that the horse of which they were in search was under the shed where Ned had left him?

The boy was in a very tight place, and he did not know which way to turn. He was in a scrape at last that he could not lie out of. The longer he dwelt upon it the plainer he saw the dangers of the situation and the greater became his alarm. He walked slowly down the steps and turned his face toward the shed in which the stolen horse was confined. The animal welcomed him with a low whinny of recognition, and when Ned patted his sleek neck he rubbed his head against his shoulders as if he were glad to see him. Beyond a doubt he was somebody’s pet, and the boy did not wonder that his owner was anxious to recover him.

Ned, whose nervousness and excitement seemed to increase all the while, stayed there in the shed for two long hours, walking restlessly about with his hands in his pockets, and asking himself over and over again why he did not tell his father all about the new horse when he first came home, and what he should do to bring himself out of the scrape he had got into through his foolishness. When bed-time came the servants began shutting up the rancho for the night. He heard them closing the heavy shutters and locking and barring the doors, but he did not move. He could not bear to go to bed just then, and he knew that when his nervousness abated so that he could sleep he could gain admittance to the house through the door that was always left unfastened to accommodate any of the servants who might happen to be out later than usual.

The rancho looked gloomy and dark enough after the shutters and doors were closed. It stood out in bold relief against the sky, looking like one of the haunted castles of which Ned had so often read. The bright moonlight gave it an almost unearthly appearance, Ned thought; and when at last all sounds of life about the building had died away, he began to feel lonely and afraid—afraid to stay longer where he was and afraid to pass across the lighted yard between the shed and the back porch of the rancho.

“I really must go,” thought Ned, after he had started toward the house two or three times, and as often drawn back again to wait until he could gather a fresh supply of courage. “I have been frightened so many times to-night that I imagine all sorts of things. Every tree and bush I look at, turns into a horseman, and I am almost——”

Ned stopped suddenly, and stooping close to the ground, looked sharply at some object in the distance. “Whew!” he exclaimed, drawing his hand across his dripping forehead, “it did look like a long line of horsemen and—so it is. Yes, sir, I can see them plainly enough. It’s all over with Ned Ackerman now!”

The boy turned in the instant and placing his hands on the side of the deep manger which ran the whole length of one end of the shed, vaulted over it, and concealed himself. He lay for a moment trembling with alarm, and then pulling off his hat, cautiously raised his head until he could see over the top of the manger. The objects which had aroused his fears were certainly mounted men. They were moving in single file by the side of the trail, and as the long, thick grass deadened the sound of their horses’ feet, their approach was almost noiseless.

“What are they?” thought Ned, ducking his head after he had taken one short, quick glance at the men. “Are they raiders, or have those strangers found out something and come back with reinforcements?”

Ned could not have told just then which he stood the more in fear of—the angry owner of the horse at his side or lawless Mexicans. He knew that it would be dangerous to fall into the hands of either of them. He could not reach the shelter of the house—they could easily cut him off if he attempted it—and his only chance to escape capture, or something worse, was to remain quiet in his place of concealment, and trust to luck. It was not at all likely that the horsemen, whoever they were, would think of looking in the shed for him even if they wanted to find him.

Just then Ned’s new horse threw up his head, looked over his shoulder and uttered a loud, shrill neigh. Ned tried hard to stop it, but without success. The animal neighed not only once, but two or three times in succession, in spite of the furious jerks the boy gave at his bridle. Here was a new cause for alarm. The animal wanted company, and he would keep up that neighing as long as there were any horses in sight. He would be sure to attract attention by it too.

“You’ll keep me in trouble as long as you stay with me,” said Ned, jumping to his feet to act upon an idea that just then came into his mind, “and the sooner you and I part company the better it will be for me. There you go,” he added, as he pulled the halter over the horse’s head and saw him gallop out of the shed. “I hope I shall never see you again. I wish I had never seen you in the first place.”

Ned felt a little more at his ease as he sank back into his place of concealment. The danger of discovery was considerably lessened by this piece of strategy, but still his situation was anything but an agreeable one. There he was, cornered in a manger by a lot of men whose actions indicated that they were there for no good purpose, who were approaching the house in a stealthy manner, so as not to alarm the inmates, and who, probably, would think no more of making an end of him, if they knew he was there in plain sight of them, than they would of knocking over an antelope for breakfast. The situation would have tried the courage of a much braver boy than Ned Ackerman.

The horsemen stopped when they saw the chestnut galloping to meet them, but moved forward again as soon as they saw that he was riderless. They rode up to the fence which surrounded the corral, and hitched their horses to it. The chestnut followed and mingled with their nags, but the men paid no attention to him. They gathered in a little group in the shade of one of the oaks that grew beside the corral, and held a consultation. Ned watched their movements with a good deal of surprise.

“Why don’t those men catch that horse?” said he to himself. “If they are raiders, they ought to steal him; and if the man who owns him is there, he ought to catch him, to keep him from straying away. I don’t understand it at all.”

While Ned was talking to himself in this way, he heard a latch softly raised. He turned his eyes in the direction of the rancho, and saw that one of the doors, opening on to the back porch, was ajar, and that somebody was looking out of it. He stood for a moment, turning his head first on one side and then on the other, as if he were listening for something, and then came out into full view. It was the Mexican cook. The moon’s rays fell full upon him, and the boy could see him plainly.

“Now is my chance!” thought Ned, getting upon his feet, but standing in a crouching attitude, so that nothing but his head could be seen over the top of the manger. “If I can run fast enough, I can put myself in a place of safety and warn Philip at the same time.”

Ned jumped quickly out of the manger, as he said this; but his feet had scarcely touched the ground before he turned like a flash and jumped back again, crouching down in his hiding-place as low as he could, and still see all that was going on outside the shed. The men were coming in a body toward the house. There were fifteen or twenty of them in all, and as soon as they had moved out of the shade of the trees, so that the moon’s rays could fall plainly upon them, Ned saw that they were dressed in Mexican costume—short jackets, wide trowsers and sombreros—and that they were armed to the teeth. They were cattle-thieves, of course; but what did they mean by approaching the rancho in that stealthy manner? The boy, trembling in every limb, turned his eyes from the Mexicans to the porch, where he had last seen the cook. He was there yet, and standing out in plain view of the raiders, who must have seen him, for he was not more than twenty feet away. Philip saw them, too, beyond a doubt; but, instead of running into the house and arousing the inmates, as Ned expected him to do, he walked up to the rail and rested his hands upon it. One would have thought from his actions that he was expecting the raiders. Ned thought so, and in an instant it flashed upon him that there was some treachery intended.

“Father always said that Philip was a rascal!” soliloquized Ned, his rage for the moment getting the better of his terror, “and now I know he is one! He is a cattle-thief himself, and he and the rest are after the money-box! But how could Philip have found out that we had a money-box?” added Ned, as he recalled the fact that the cook belonged in the kitchen, and had probably never seen the inside of his father’s office; “and even if he had known all about the box, how could he have told his friends of it? He hasn’t been away from the house an hour at a time since he has been here.”

Ned might have kept on propounding to himself questions that he could not answer, but his thoughts were carried into other channels by the actions of the raiders, who walked straight up to the porch where Philip was standing, and entered into a whispered conversation with him. Ned could not overhear what was said, but he saw the cook turn toward the house and extend his hands in different directions, as if he were trying to give his friends (for such they undoubtedly were) some idea of its internal arrangements. Probably he was telling them where to find the office and the strong box. If such was the case, it took him but a moment to do it; and when the raiders had learned all they wanted to know, they stepped lightly upon the porch and followed Philip toward the open door. When they reached it, Philip pushed it farther open, stood on one side to allow them to pass, and the raiders filed in, one after the other, on tip-toe! Half their number had disappeared in the house, when all at once a deafening uproar arose. There was a fight going on in the hall. First there was a loud yell, that was evidently given by one of the servants to arouse his sleeping companions, and the yell was accompanied rather than followed by a crash which made Ned believe that the inside of the house was being torn in pieces. It was the report of a revolver. Another and another followed, and an instant afterward, the raiders, having failed in their efforts to surprise the inmates of the rancho, appeared in great confusion, crowding through the door in a body, and in their haste prostrating the cook, who was knocked off the porch to the ground. He lay for a moment as if stunned by the fall, and then sprang up and ran away with the rest.

The baffled raiders scattered in every direction, and taking refuge behind the outbuildings and lumber piles opened a hot fire on the rancho from their carbines. To Ned’s intense alarm two of them ran straight for the shed. He saw them coming, and ducking his head crept swiftly into the farthest end of the manger and crowded himself into the darkest corner. One of the men dodged behind a wagon, but the other dashed into the shed, jumped into the manger and taking up a position in the opposite end, scarcely fifteen feet from the trembling boy, fired his carbine at the door from which he and his companions had just been driven. Ned was almost ready to scream with terror, but knowing that his safety depended upon his preserving the strictest silence, he choked back the cry while it was trembling on his lips, and covering his face with his hands awaited the issue of events with all the fortitude he could command.

Fortunately the Mexican in the other end of the manger was so busily engaged in loading and firing that he could not take time to look about him during the very few minutes that he remained in his hiding-place. The inmates of the rancho defended themselves with spirit, and one of their number, becoming aware that there was an enemy in the shed, fired three shots from his revolver in that direction. Ned’s hair fairly stood on end as he heard the bullets crashing through the planks which formed the outside of the manger. The eccentric and hurried movements of the Mexican proved that he was no less embarrassed by them, and when the third bullet came in, striking closer to his head than the others, he uttered an exclamation in Spanish, and jumping out of the manger ran off to find a less exposed ambush. Ned was glad to see him go.

“I wonder what they mean by such work, any how?” thought Ned, who, frightened as he was, could not resist the temptation to get upon his knees and look over the top of the manger. “Haven’t they got sense enough to see that our fellows have the advantage of them, and that there is nothing to be gained by shooting at stone walls? There! I guess they are going now!”

Just then one of the band uttered a shrill whistle, and the firing ceased almost immediately. Ned looked to see them mount and ride away without loss of time, but the sequel proved that they were not yet ready to give up all hopes of handling the money in the strong box, if that was what they were after. The whistle was given to call the band together for consultation. They gathered behind the shed out of sight of the house, and one of them leaned against the boards so close to Ned that if the latter had pushed his finger through one of the cracks he could have touched him. The boy could hear their slightest whisper, but could not understand a word that was said, for they talked altogether in Spanish. They quickly decided upon a new plan of operations, and separated to carry it into execution. A portion of the band opened fire on the rancho again, and the others, having secured an axe, crept around to the opposite side and furiously attacked one of the doors; but the tough oak planks of which it was made resisted the blows of the axe until the herdsmen had time to run to the other side of the building and drive them away by firing through the loopholes with their revolvers. Then the attack was renewed on another door with the same result; finally, the Mexicans, growing discouraged, hurled a volley of Spanish oaths at the defenders of the rancho, which had about the same effect on them that their bullets had on the walls, and ran toward their horses.

Ned kept his eye on the thieves while they were crossing the yard, and was gratified to see that they had not come off unscathed. Three of their number were limping along with the assistance of some of their comrades, and a fourth was being carried in a blanket. Whether he was killed or badly wounded Ned could not tell. He saw them mount and ride away, and the last object that caught his eye as they passed out of sight was the stolen horse, prancing and curveting behind them, his white legs showing plainly in the moonlight.