CHAPTER VII

A LIVELY NIGHT IN CAMP

“Are you hit, Lieutenant?” questioned Grace, stepping over to Hippy.

“Yes, on my right thumb. Don’t get excited, Nora,” begged Hippy as his wife ran to him. “The bullet merely broke the skin.”

“This is what comes of your nonsense, Hippy Wingate,” rebuked Nora. “It was the shiny tin plate that did it.”

Grace nodded.

“Shall I pour water on the coals?” asked Ike, his voice trembling with anger.

“Not now, Mr. Fairweather. We will first see what develops,” replied Grace.

“What do you reckon on doin’ ’bout this shootin’, Miss?” persisted the driver.

“We must protect ourselves, of course, but just how, we shall have to consider carefully. Is the creek fordable along here?”

“I reckon so. No difficulty ’bout anyone gettin’ over thet wants to. Why, Miss?”

“I was wondering if the man who shot at us could easily cross to this side of the stream,” murmured Grace reflectively.

“He could.”

“Then we shall have to take turns at guarding the camp to-night. I will watch it until midnight; Lieutenant Wingate will relieve me then and remain on watch until four in the morning, which is the hour you turn out, Mr. Fairweather,” suggested Grace.

Ike insisted that he could keep watch all night, but Grace shook her head, declaring that such an arrangement would not be fair to him.

“I really believe, Mr. Fairweather, that you would be willing to go without sleep during the entire journey, just for the sake of getting sight of the man who shot at us,” averred Grace.

“I would thet,” rumbled Ike.

“Please don’t let the incident worry you. We girls have been under fire too often to be greatly disturbed by a few rifle shots. Of course, it isn’t comfortable to be shot at by a man who knows how to use a rifle as well as that fellow apparently does, but so long as he doesn’t hit one of us why worry?” laughed Grace.

Ike stroked his whiskers and shook his head. At this juncture, Elfreda, who had taken upon herself the task of dressing Lieutenant Wingate’s wound, announced that it was completed.

“I’m mighty glad it was the thumb instead of the trigger finger,” said Hippy. “I may have use for that trigger finger before reaching the other end of the Apache Trail.”

“Yes, and the opportunity may come to-night,” added Grace. She then told him of her plan for guarding the camp, rather expecting that the lieutenant would protest against being called in the middle of the night to do guard duty.

On the contrary, Hippy eagerly seconded the suggestion, and promptly got out his rifle, which he began to clean and oil.

“I’m ready. Bring on your bad men,” he cried dramatically.

An hour later the camp was in silence, all, save Grace, being asleep in their tents. Her watch passed without incident. At midnight she made a tour of the camp and its immediate vicinity, and, finding the ponies quiet, returned to camp and awakened Lieutenant Wingate. The wagon team being staked down close to the camp, just to the rear of the little pup-tent in which the driver slept, needed no watching, for Ike could hear their every move.

“Nothing of a disturbing nature has occurred,” Grace informed Lieutenant Wingate who came out with rifle in hand, yawning and stretching himself. “Please keep a sharp lookout and have your rifle within reach at all times. That is no more than common prudence.”

“Now, Brown Eyes, I know what to do. Just you turn in for a night of sweet dreams, leaving all the rest to Hippy Wingate.”

Reaching her tent, Grace paused, and stood looking out until she saw Hippy stroll away and disappear in the darkness. She then undressed, crept in between the blankets and immediately went to sleep.

It seemed to Grace that she had been asleep but a few moments, when, dreaming of the war, she was awakened by what, in her dream, sounded like the explosion of a shell. Grace sprang up and ran to the door of her tent.

Two heavy rifle reports told her that trouble was afoot, and she surmised that Lieutenant Wingate was in the thick of it, but hearing the lieutenant calling to Ike in an effort to locate him, Grace began to wonder.

The Apache Trail lay a short distance above the Overton camp; the creek, near which the ponies were tethered, being about an equal distance below the camp. The shooting, she discovered, was occurring somewhere between the camp and the trail.

Grace stepped out into the open, facing the trail, just in time to hear a bullet whistle over her head. She ducked instinctively.

“You watch the camp, Lieutenant,” she heard Ike Fairweather call.

“No, I’m going with you,” answered Hippy.

“Are we attacked?” called Elfreda Briggs from her tent. “Grace! Are you there?”

“I don’t know what the trouble is, Elfreda, but--” She broke off abruptly as a sudden thought came to her. “Look out for the camp, Elfreda!” Without a word of explanation, Grace whirled and sped toward the spot where the horses were staked. To her rear, somewhere in the vicinity of the Apache Trail, she heard two more rifle reports, but whether from the weapons in the hands of Ike Fairweather and Lieutenant Wingate, or from other sources, she was unable to determine.

Nearing the tethering ground Grace proceeded with more caution, not knowing what new menace she might find confronting her there, but the murmur of Pinal Creek was the only sound that interrupted the mountain stillness, a stillness that, on this occasion, seemed heavy with significance.

At the edge of the tethering ground, Grace halted sharply and peered about her.

“Gone! Every one of them gone!” she gasped. “I suspected this very thing. This is too bad.” Grace started to return to camp and tripped over a tethering stake, measuring her length on the ground. Before rising she fingered the stake and the short piece of rope still attached to it. She finally untied the rope, and, with it, started for the camp at a brisk trot. As Grace neared the tents, Ike and Hippy came in from the trail side.

“I winged one critter,” cried Ike as he espied Grace. “He was sneakin’ towards the camp when I discovered him. You see I kinder thought somethin’ was wrong, so I picked up a rifle an’ went out scoutin’ for trouble. Well, I s’prised the critter an’ let him have it hot, thet’s all.”

“We gave him the run, Brown Eyes,” boasted Lieutenant Wingate.

“Di--di--did you hit him?” stammered Emma.

“I reckon I hit the critter once, for I heard him grunt. We’re all right now, though. I don’t reckon he’ll be comin’ back this night.”

“Having accomplished his purpose, I do not think he will return,” replied Grace dryly.

“Eh? What’s thet you say, Mrs. Gray?” demanded Ike, sensing a deeper meaning behind Grace Harlowe’s remark.

“The ponies have disappeared, Mr. Fairweather!”

“What?” Ike’s whiskers visibly bristled.

“I said the ponies have disappeared. Look at this, will you?” she requested, extending the section of rope that she had removed from the tethering stake. “What do you make of it, sir?”

Ike Fairweather, recognizing the rope, held it close to his eyes and regarded it critically, while stroking his whiskers with his other hand.

“Thet rope has been cut!” he declared after an instant of hesitation.

“Yes, I think so,” agreed Grace. “Before it is too late let’s see if we can find the ponies. I will go with you. Lieutenant, will you please stay here and watch the camp?”

“Yes, but what are you going to do, Brown Eyes?” questioned Hippy.

“I am going with Mr. Fairweather,” flung back Grace, who already was running to catch up with Ike, he having strode away too excited for words. Not a word was exchanged between them until they reached the tethering ground, when Grace suggested that he use her flash lamp, which she handed to him.

For the following few minutes, Ike Fairweather uttered nothing but grunts, now and then pointing to the ground as he followed the faintly discernible hoof-prints of their ponies down to the creek. There the trail turned and followed along the bank of the stream for a short distance, whence it took a turn toward the Apache Trail, which Grace and Ike reached shortly afterwards.

“There! See thet!” Ike pointed down to the Apache Trail, on which a beam from the flash lamp was resting.

“I see horse tracks, if that is what you mean, sir. I suppose they are the tracks of our ponies, and if so, they appear to be headed towards Globe.”

“They shore are, Miss. Listen! While I was chasin’ the fellow thet was prowlin’ ’bout the camp, three other galoots was stealin’ the ponies. I found the men’s tracks back there, an’ you can see ’em right here on the trail. What them critters have done is to start your ponies towards home, an’ the horses prob’ly are a long ways from here this very minute. We shore are in a fix. What do you reckon on doin’ ’bout it?” demanded Ike, caressing his whiskers and regarding his companion questioningly.

“Suppose we return to camp and talk it over,” suggested Grace.

Ike nodded, and they started back toward the camp. Reaching there, Grace quickly explained to her companions what had occurred, and asked if any one had a suggestion to offer as to what should be done in the emergency.

“Do you think the ponies will go all the way to Globe?” asked Lieutenant Wingate.

“They shore will.”

“What leads you to believe that the robbers who took the animals did not go away with them?” interjected Miss Briggs.

“The tracks of the men, Miss. After they reached the Apache Trail the horses started on alone at a gallop, as you can see by the hoof-prints. The two-legged critters went over the edge of the trail an’ hit it up for the hills, thet’s how I know.”

“I see only one way out of our difficulty,” spoke up Grace, who had been pondering over the problem. “We have your wagon team, Mr. Fairweather. That much is saved to us, so I would suggest that you take one of the wagon horses and start at once for Globe to fetch our ponies back.”

Hippy said he would accompany Mr. Fairweather, but Grace negatived his proposal with an emphatic shake of the head.

“You may be needed here, Lieutenant,” she said. “Should Mr. Fairweather find that he needs assistance in leading the ponies back to camp he will hire a man to ride out with him. Will you do all this for us, Mr. Fairweather?”

“I reckon. But first I’d like to get the critter thet teased me out of camp while the others stole the ponies,” the old driver fumed under his breath. “I’m off.”

Ike saddled up in a hurry, Grace in the meantime filling a kit bag with food, which she handed to the driver.

“Now, Hippy, I believe you have something to say to me,” reminded Grace as Ike disappeared in the darkness.

“Brown Eyes, I was asleep when this thing started,” Lieutenant Wingate confessed.

“Hippy Wingate!” rebuked Nora.

“Yes, I was, but only for a few minutes. It was right after I had made my trip to inspect the camp, after Grace turned in. Everything was snug and quiet, so I leaned my rifle against a tree and sat down. Well, I lost myself, that’s all. I ought to be shot.”

“You said it,” approved Emma Dean.

“I promise you, on my honor, that it will not occur again,” protested Hippy.

“What woke you up?” asked Grace.

“Ike’s first shot.”

“I thought so,” nodded Grace. “He must have known you were asleep, but Ike never mentioned it to me. Please listen to me, Lieutenant! We are really in a serious situation at this moment. The thieves who took our horses probably had a further plan in mind at the time, and I should not be at all surprised if they attempted to carry it out this very night.”

“Just what are we to infer from that remark, Loyalheart?” asked Miss Briggs a bit anxiously.

“I mean that this camp may be attacked before morning--that in all probability it will be!” declared Grace Harlowe.