"I am no good at doctoring sick men," he answered. "Wolf Ear had better
go back to his own medicine man."

At this the Indian stared at the boy stolidly for fully half a minute.
He understood that he was not wanted, and that he would not be allowed
into the cabin.

"White boy have no medicine for Wolf Ear?" he said, slowly.

"I don't know what would be good for you."

"Where white boy's fadder?"

"He has gone away." A sudden idea came to Dan's mind. "I think he has
gone to Gonzales to bring along some of the lumbermen to look over the
plans for a sawmill. There are about a dozen men thinking of setting up
a sawmill around here."

The Indian pursed up his mouth, trying to conceal his chagrin. "He come
back soon?"

"I expect him every minute. But you had better not wait for him.
Perhaps you'll feel better if you wash off that war-paint on your
face."

At this Wolf Ear scowled viciously. "White boy big fool!" he cried, and
reached around for his gun. But before he could raise the weapon both
Dan and Ralph had him covered with the pistols. Not having seen the
weapons while speaking, the Indian was taken aback.

"Put that gun down," said Dan, sternly. "I am not such a fool as you
think."

"Wolf Ear only make fun," grinned the savage, feebly. "No mean to
shoot."

"I don't like your fun, and I want you to leave this place."

At once the red man straightened up like an arrow on his pony. "Wolf
Ear will go," he said, loftily. "But Wolf Ear shall not forget you!"
And he turned his steed to ride away. Evidently he had forgotten all
about his alleged pain.

"Dan, make him give up his gun," cried Ralph, in a low voice. "If you
don't he'll try to shoot us as soon as he reaches cover."

"Halt!" exclaimed the older brother. "Wolf Ear, you must leave your gun
with us. You can come back for it when my father is here."

At first the Indian pretended not to hear, then he turned back to look
at them, but without stopping his pony.

"My firearm is mine," he said. "The white boy shall not rob the poor
Indian," and digging his heels into his pony's sides he set off at a
breakneck pace for the nearest patch of timber. Ralph was about to fire
on him, but Dan stopped the proceedings.

"No, let him go," he said. "Whatever happens, don't give them the
chance to say that we opened the fight. If we start the affair we'll
get into all sorts of trouble with the agency."

Before they could argue the matter Wolf Ear had gained the timber. Both
of the boys were now in the doorway of the cabin. Bang! went the
redskin's gun, and the bullet embedded itself in the door-post close to
their heads. Like lightning the boys leaped into the living-room and
barred the oaken barrier behind them.

"He has opened the attack!" gasped Ralph, the shot, coming so close,
temporarily unnerving him. "I told you he'd do it."

Dan did not answer, but, running to the closet, brought out the best of
the guns belonging to his father. Leaping up to the loft, he opened the
firing-hole fronting the direction Wolf Ear had taken, and squinted
through. But the Indian horseman was long since out of sight.

"Can you catch him?" asked Ralph, from the foot of the ladder.

"No, he's gone."

"Do you think he'll bring the others down on us now?"

"No. They know we are armed, and they couldn't rush across the clearing
and break in without one or more of them being shot, and they are too
afraid of their hides to undertake the job. But they'll close in as
soon as it's dark, beyond a doubt."

"I hope father comes back by that time."

"So do I. Do you suppose they are driving off the cattle on the range?"

"There is no telling. For all we know they may be up back of the cattle
shed, too."

It was now so dark that but little could be seen beyond the clearing
immediately surrounding the cabin. Each of the boys stationed himself
in the loft, Dan watching to the north and the east, and Ralph to the
south and west.

With the coming of night the silence seemed more oppressive than ever,
and only the occasional mooing of the cow tied near the door broke the
stillness around the cabin. From the woods came now and then the cry of
a night bird, but that was all. The breeze had died out utterly.

But presently came a cry that caused the hearts of both lads to thump
vigorously within their breasts. It was the note of a night-owl,
repeated six times.

"That's a Comanche signal," said Dan, in almost a whisper. "Ralph, they
must be coming now, and if they are, God help us to do our best in
repelling their attack!"

"Amen!" came almost solemnly from the younger Radbury. "Can you make
out anything yet?"

"No--yes! Somebody is sneaking through the timber toward the river.
It's an Indian with a gun! He's turning toward the house, and two other
Indians are behind him!"

Several minutes more passed--minutes that seemed like hours to the
boys, whose hearts thumped as never before. Both felt that a crisis in
their lives had arrived.

"They are coming, five strong," whispered Dan, at last. "Perhaps I had
better fire a pistol to warn them off."

"Do it," answered his brother, and soon the report broke the stillness.
At the sound the Comanches came to a halt in the clearing, midway
between the cabin and the timber. The halt, however, was only
temporary, for an instant later a wild war-whoop rang out, and they
charged swiftly on the ranch home!




CHAPTER VI.

POKE STOVER TO THE FRONT.


"Here they come, Dan!"

"Yes, Ralph. Watch your chance, and fire at the fellow on the left.
I'll take the one on the right."

There was no time to say more, for now the Comanches were close to the
cabin. Both youths were tremendously excited, but they felt that it was
a case of life or death, and did their best to nerve themselves
accordingly. Each picked his man, and both guns rang out at the same
time. The reports had not yet died away when the redskin aimed at by
Dan flung up one arm and sank back, badly wounded in the side. Ralph
had missed his mark by a few inches.

The sudden attack brought the remaining Indians to a halt, and for a
second they appeared not to know what to do next. Then the wounded man
staggered back toward the timber, and with another war-whoop the others
continued toward the cabin.

The boys had no time left to reload, and caught up the pistols and let
drive again. This time it was Ralph who hit his man, a slight wound in
the leg. Hardly had the pistols belched forth than the Indians opened
fire, and four bullets buried themselves close to the firing-holes in
the loft openings.

"They mean to overpower us if they can," cried Dan. "We must load up as
fast as we can!"

The Indians, or at least the three that were not wounded, had now
gained the door, and were trying to force it open. But their hatchets
and the axe they had brought along failed to make much of an impression
on it, and all they could do was to shout in their rage and demand that
the boys open the door at once.

"Open! Open!" came in Wolf Ear's voice. "Open, or we will scalp you!"

"Go away, or we'll shoot you all down!" answered Dan, who had now
reloaded his gun.

"We will not go away. What is in the house belongs to the red man, and
he must have it."

"It belongs to our father, and you shall not have one thing," retorted
Dan.

He had unbarred the shutter of one of the upper windows, and now,
leaning out swiftly, he took aim at the forms grouped below, and fired.

A howl went up, for the bullet had nipped one red man in the ear and
glanced along the shoulder of a second. Then came a quick fire in
return, and Dan gave a scream that caused Ralph's heart to almost stop
beating.

"You are struck?" queried the younger brother.

"It's not much," came from Dan, and, breathing heavily, he flung to the
window-shutter and bolted it again. Then he came down the ladder, the
blood flowing from a wound in his neck. Had the bullet come two inches
closer, Dan would have been killed on the spot.

The Indians were now trying to batter the door down with a log of wood
picked up close at hand. The cow bothered them in their efforts, and
one of the red men had to take time to cut her loose, at which the cow
ran off to the cattle shed once more.

Thus far three of the attackers had been wounded, one quite seriously.
The other two continued to hammer away at the door, which presently
showed signs of giving way.

"Let us try to fire through the door," whispered Ralph, when he saw
that his brother was still able to continue the struggle. "We may hit
them, and, anyway, we'll give them a scare."

Dan nodded, and both drew closer to the barrier with their guns. But
before they could level their firearms, there came a report from the
edge of the timber next to the burn, and one of the Indians was heard
to yell in mortal agony and fall on the doorstep.

"Somebody is coming!" cried Dan, joyfully. "It must be father!" Then a
second report rang out, and another red man was struck, in the arm.
This was the savage who had previously been nipped in the ear, and,
without waiting for another shot, he sped away in the darkness, and his
two companions after him, leaving the dead Indian where he had fallen.

There was now no use of trying to fire through the door, and Dan
motioned Ralph to run up to the loft.

"See if you can make out who it was that fired," he said, "and if it is
father, and he wants to come in, call for me to open the door."

The boys had lit a single lantern, but now this was put out, since they
were afraid some treacherous red man might still be lurking at hand, to
fire at them through a crack in the cabin walls. While Ralph made his
survey from above, Dan stood at the door, his hand on the bar, ready to
throw it back on an instant's notice.

"A man is coming on the run!" announced Ralph, presently. "He is waving
for us to open the door. I can't make out who it is."

"Is it father?"

"No, I can't make out---- It's Poke Stover! Let him in, quick!"

Back shot the bolt and up went the heavy bar, and as the door was
opened to the width of a foot, the figure of a tall, heavily bearded
frontiersman slipped into the cabin. He helped hold the door while Dan
secured it again.

"Poke Stover!" cried the youth. "I'm mighty glad you've come!"

"Are you and Ralph safe?" was the question, as soon as the man could
catch his breath, for he had been running with all the swiftness at his
command.

"Yes, although I've got a scratch on the throat. But father--do you
know anything of him?"

"Yes, he has gone to Gonzales to bring help. He says he signalled to
you from the tall pine."

"So he did. Did he have a fight with any of the Indians?"

"Yes, he was attacked by Bison Head and Hank Stiger, the half-breed. He
put a bullet through Stiger's left calf, and knocked the Injun down
with the butt of his gun. That's the reason the two were not with the
party that attacked the cabin."

"How many are there, all told?" asked Ralph, who had come down the
ladder again.

"Not more than ten, and one of 'em's dead outside."

"And two or three of them are wounded," added Dan.

"The wust on it is, they'll be gittin' thicker and thicker," resumed
the old frontiersman, who had drifted into Texas from Missouri several
years ago, and who had spent all of his life on the plains. "I've half
a notion as how Bison Head is tryin' to git the whole Comanche nation
on the war-path."

"If that's the case, they may organise around here," said Ralph. "How
long do you suppose it will be before father gets back?"

"He said he would try to make it by daybreak," answered Poke Stover.
"It's accordin' as how he finds his men."

The talking now dropped off, as the frontiersman said it would be best
to remain silent and keep on guard at the various port-holes in the
shutters.

Slowly the night wore away, until it was three o'clock in the morning.
Only one alarm had come, but this had amounted to nothing.

"I see a light," announced Dan. "Can it be a camp-fire?"

"Not likely, lad," answered Stover. "Comanches on the war-path don't
light 'em. It's a signal."

"Another signal to attack?" queried Ralph.

"More'n likely. We must keep our eyes peeled for 'em."

Another half-hour dragged by, and the only sound that broke the
stillness was the morning breeze, as it began to stir through the
timber surrounding the clearing. Outside not a soul was to be seen.

"Perhaps that was a signal to withdraw," suggested Dan. "I hope it
was." But Poke Stover shook his head, for he had seen much of the
Comanches and understood them thoroughly.

"They won't go until they've had another round at ye," he said. "I'm
expectin' 'em every minit now."

Scarcely had he finished, when something attracted Dan's attention back
of the cattle shed. An object was moving around. Presently it started
straight for the cabin.

"It looks like one of the cows--and it is," he announced. "I wonder
what started her up?"

"Let me take a squint," said the frontiersman, and covered the
port-hole searchingly for half a minute. Then he raised his rifle, took
careful aim, and blazed away. There was a grunt of dismay, and an
Indian, who had been driving the cow and dodging directly behind, ran
back, while the cow kicked up her heels and flew in the opposite
direction.

"Thar, I reckon he'll know enough to keep back after this," growled
Poke Stover, with much self-satisfaction. "He thought he was goin' to
sneak up unbeknown to us, but I crossed his trail fer him that trip."

"What do you suppose he was going to do, if he had gotten close to the
cabin?" asked Ralph.

"He had a bunch of brush in his hand, lad, and probably a bit o' fire
about him, too, although I allow as how I didn't see no light."

"Then he wanted to burn us out!" ejaculated the youngest Radbury.

"That was his game."

Ralph shivered at the thought. It was bad enough to be shot at, but to
be burned out! He wished daylight would come and his father would
return with the much-needed aid.

With the coming of daylight those in the cabin could see with greater
clearness under the tall timber, and soon Poke Stover announced that
several Indians were in sight.

"They are making something," he announced. "Looks like a stone-boat,"
meaning thereby a sort of flat drag-sled often used for removing stones
from a field.

"I know what it is!" exclaimed Dan. "It's a shield! One or two of them
will come up behind it. See if I am not right."

The three waited anxiously, Ralph fairly holding his breath in
expectancy. At last the shield, for such it was, was done, and slowly
two Comanches came forward, holding it in front of them, and taking
care that neither should expose so much as a hand or foot.

"Hang 'em!" muttered the tall frontiersman, and, taking deliberate aim
at a slight crack in the wooden shield, he fired. But the barrier was
thick and tough, and the bullet failed to penetrate to the opposite
side.

One of the Indians behind the shield carried a bunch of dry grass and
some brush, and as they came closer this was lighted. Then the burning
stuff was hurled forward. It was tied into a bundle with some strong
vines, and had a stone attached to give it weight. It landed on the
roof of the cabin, blazing brightly, then rolled off to a spot directly
below one of the windows.




CHAPTER VII.

IN AND OUT OF THE BURNING CABIN.


"The roof is on fire!"

"The wall is on fire under one of the sleeping-room windows!"

The first cry came from Ralph, who was in the loft, the second from his
brother, who saw the flames and smoke coming through the cracks where
the wall and the flooring of the cabin joined. The breeze was
increasing, and soon both fires were burning merrily, as if such flames
were not tending toward a tragedy.

"Some water--we must put it out!" came from Poke Stover, and, catching
up one of the buckets the boys had thoughtfully provided, he ran to the
window beneath which the conflagration was spreading. "Unbar it, Dan,
and I'll souse it out. Look out that you don't expose yourself."

The shutter was unbarred and opened for the space of several inches. At
once the smoke began to pour into the cabin, setting them all to
coughing. Then the breeze carried the smoke in the opposite direction.

Suddenly Poke Stover set down the bucket of water and grabbed Dan's
gun. A quick aim and a flash, and one of the Comanches let go of the
shield and danced around with a broken elbow. Then both of the enemy
retreated far more rapidly than they had come.

"Got him that trip," was the frontiersman's satisfactory comment. "But
be careful, Dan, there are others watching us from the timber."

The shutter was pushed open a little more, and with much skill Poke
Stover dashed the water on the blaze and put the most of it out. Then
he wet an old coat and beat out what remained.

"It's a pity we didn't have no dirt handy to shovel on," he said,
pausing to catch his breath, while Dan locked the shutter again. "We
may need this water afore we git through. How is it up thar, Ralph?" he
called.

"It's burning pretty lively," was the reply. "But perhaps we can beat
it out with the coat."

"The Indians can spot you on the roof," said Dan.

"Go down and unbar the door and swing it partly open," said Poke
Stover. "That will attract the attention of the Injuns, and they won't
be a-lookin' at the roof. But wait a minit, till I'm ready fer ye!" he
added, as he laboured up the ladder with a second bucket of the
precious water. The old coat was soused thoroughly, and Stover opened
the shutter nearest to the fire.

"Now go ahead!" he called out, and Dan opened the door, and swung it
back and forth several times. He also showed his hat on a stick, and in
a trice came several shots, one going through the head-covering and
entering the closet in the corner. Then he swung the hat out again, and
another shot followed.

During this time the old frontiersman had reached out of the upper
window and beat out part of the fire and hurled the remainder to the
ground, far enough away from the cabin to keep it from doing further
harm. One shot was aimed at him, as the breeze exposed him through the
smoke to the Comanches, but this luckily flew wide of its mark.

"By gosh, but that was a close shave!" ejaculated Stover, as he dropped
back into the loft, while Ralph closed the shutter. His beard was
singed in two places and his face was red and hot. "It's a good thing
that fire wasn't allow to gain no more headway."

He bathed his face and took a drink of water, and then all three began
to speculate upon the next probable movement of the Comanches. By the
clock on the living-room mantel it was now half-past four.

"Father ought to be coming now," said Ralph. "But perhaps he has been
unable to get anybody to come back with him."

"Don't worry about that," returned Poke Stover. "They'll all come if
only they git the word. The buck ague don't go around here." By buck
ague the frontiersman meant the fright which occasionally takes
possession of a pioneer or soldier when facing Indians who are on the
war-path.

It was not long after this that the Indians began to show their
activity once more. Others of the tribe had arrived, until they
numbered eighteen or twenty, the majority of whom were armed with guns,
only one or two of the older warriors sticking to their bows and
arrows.

"I reckon they suspect we are waiting for help, and they mean to do
something before it gits too late," observed Poke Stover. "Perhaps
they'll give us another rush before they withdraw fer good. We had
better inspect all of our shootin'-irons, fer we may want 'em badly."

The frontiersman was right, the Comanches were organising an attack, to
be divided into three parts,--one party to come from the timber
skirting the burn, the second to come up behind the cabin, and the
third to make a dash from behind the cattle shed. The first division
carried a heavy log, with which they hoped to batter down the door in
short order.

"They are coming!" The cry came from Dan, who was watching the timber
in front of the burn. "There are six of them!"

"Here comes another crowd from the shed!" ejaculated Ralph.

"They have divided up," said the frontiersman. "Boys, I'm afraid we now
have a stiff piece of work cut out for ourselves. A third party is
coming from the rear, and there is no telling but what there may be
still more. We must do our best and fight to a finish, for they are on
the war-path for fair, and they'll show us no mercy if once they git at
us. Load up and fire jest as quick as ye can! Give it to 'em hot!"

As Poke Stover finished, he leaped to the window nearest to him, shoved
the muzzle of his weapon through the port-hole, and pulled the trigger.
A yell went up as one of the redskins threw up his arms and fell. But
then the others came on faster than ever, yelling and shouting in a
manner to cause the stoutest heart to falter. Surely, as Stover had
said, it would be a fight to the finish, and they were but three to
seventeen.

Dan was at one port-hole and Ralph at another, and now both fired
simultaneously. Whether the shots were effective they could not tell.
Certainly none of the Indians dropped.

In two minutes more the Comanches were running around the house in
every direction, trying to batter down the door with the log, and
likewise trying to pry open several of the shutters with their
hatchets.

At such close quarters it was next to impossible to fire on them,
although several gun and pistol shots were exchanged. Once an Indian
fired through a port-hole into the bedchamber, and the burning gun-wad
landed on one of the straw bedticks.

"Put it out!" roared Poke Stover, and while Dan trampled on the fire to
extinguish it, the frontiersman let the Indian have a shot in return.

Crash! crash! The heavy bombardment on the door was beginning to tell,
and already there was a long crack in the oaken slab, and the splinters
were flying in all directions.

"We'll take our stand here!" cried Poke Stover, motioning to a spot
facing the door. "Give it to 'em the minit daylight shines through!"
And they did, with such serious results that the party with the ram
dropped that instrument and ran to the opposite side of the house. But
their places were quickly taken by others, and now it looked as if the
door must give way at any instant.

Suddenly, just when it looked as if the next shock to the door must
smash it into a hundred pieces, there came a scattering volley of
rifle-shots from the timber near the river, answered almost instantly
by a second volley from the forest opposite. Then came a yell from the
Comanches, and a cheer in English.

"Hold the cabin! We are coming!" came in Mr. Radbury's well-known
voice, and never had it sounded more comforting to the two boys than at
that moment. Then followed more shots, some striking the cabin and
others hitting the Indians, who were so demoralised that for the moment
they knew not what to do.

"Down with the redskins!" came in the tones of a settler named
Whippler, who had lost his wife in a raid about a year previous. "Kill
every one of 'em! Don't let them escape!"

In his eagerness to annihilate those he so hated, he rode to the front
of the others, discharging his gun and his pistol as he came, and then
leaping upon the nearest redskin with his long hunting-knife. He
brought the red man down with a stroke in the breast, and was then laid
low himself by Red Pony, an under chief, who was in charge during the
absence of Wolf Ear and Bison Head. Red Pony then ran off for his very
life, followed by fourteen others, the remainder being either killed or
wounded.

"Boys! Are either of you wounded?" asked Mr. Radbury, as he leaped from
the mustang he was riding, and rushed into the cabin.

"We are all right, father," answered both lads.

"Thank God for that!" murmured the parent, reverently. "But, see, your
neck is bleeding," he added, to Dan.

"It's only a scratch."

"Good. Poke, I see you managed to get to them. You are a brave fellow,
if ever there was one."

"We've had a hot time of it, father," put in Ralph. "If it hadn't been
for Mr. Stover, I don't know what we would have done."

"Ralph is right," assented Dan. "If he hadn't put out the fire we would
have been burnt out, and the cabin would have gone up in smoke in the
bargain."

"I shall not forget your kindness, Poke," said Mr. Radbury, taking the
frontiersman's horny hand. "But, as you are all right, I fancy I had
better join the others, and follow the miscreants."

"And I'll go with ye," said Poke Stover, who disliked too much praise,
although not averse to some laudatory speech. "We ought to round up
every mother's son of 'em while we are about it."

"Shall we go too?" asked Dan. "I'd rather do that than remain behind,"
he continued.

"You may come, if you'll promise to keep to the rear," answered the
father. "Remember, the Indians are wily, and may set a trap for us."

All went outside, crawling through the battered doorway, and were soon
mounted on several extra mustangs Mr. Radbury had brought along. The
planter informed them that he had brought with him twenty-four men,
including Jim Bowie, who had happened to be in Gonzales at the time.
Soon the party of four were riding hard to catch up with the other
whites, who were following the trail of the Comanches along the bank of
the upper Guadalupe River.

[Illustration: "FOLLOWING THE TRAIL OF THE COMANCHES."]




CHAPTER VIII.

AN UNSUCCESSFUL PURSUIT.


After leaving the vicinity of the cabin, the Comanches struck a trail
leading through a cedar brake over the hill back of the cattle shed.
Here they came together, and without halting swept straight along the
Guadalupe River, as previously mentioned. They felt that the whites
would follow them, and their one hope of safety lay in gaining the
wilderness about San Saba Hill, sixty to seventy miles north of San
Antonio.

The leadership of the whites naturally fell to Colonel Jim Bowie, for
he had been in numerous Indian quarrels, and was a good man on the
trail. It may be here mentioned that Bowie, who was afterward to become
so well known in Texas, was one of two brothers who came to that
territory from Louisiana, after having been engaged for years in the
slave-trade. The man was as bold as he was daring, and it was said that
he knew not the meaning of the word fear.

The Indians were all on horseback, and as their steeds had had a long
rest they were fresh, and made rapid progress. On the other hand, the
mustangs of the whites were tired from the hard night's ride from
Gonzales and vicinity, and they could not keep up the pace, although
urged to do their best by their riders. All of the whites bewailed the
fate of Whippler, and swore to be revenged if given "the ghost of a
chance."

When Amos Radbury, Stover, and the two boys gained the other whites,
they found Bowie's party fording one of the creeks running into the
Guadalupe. The Indians had passed there about ten minutes before, and
it was to be seen that they had not even stopped to water their horses.
All of the settlers' horses were thirsty, and some refused to budge
from the stream until they had slaked their thirst.

"Do you think they will be caught?" asked Dan, as he swept along beside
his father.

"They will not be caught if they can help it," replied Mr. Radbury,
with a faint smile. "They know it will go hard with them if we do come
up with them."

"What of the wounded?" asked Ralph. But his father merely shrugged his
shoulders.

"They'll crawl off in the bushes, and either git away, or die,"
answered Poke Stover, philosophically. To him the life of an Indian was
of no account. He had never considered that an Indian might be educated
into becoming a useful member of the great human family.

On and on swept the little body of determined whites, each with his gun
in his hands, and his eyes on the alert for the first sign of danger.
The trail was still along the river, but presently it branched off, and
entered an _arrayo_, or gully, thick with thorny plants and entangling
vines. At the end of the _arrayo_ was a rocky plateau, and here for
the time being the trail was lost.

"The Indian that's leading them knows his business," remarked Colonel
Bowie, as he brought his command to a halt.

"That's right, but we'll soon be on his tail ag'in," returned Poke
Stover, who had come to his side. "Let's spread out in a fan, colonel;"
and this was done, each man examining his part of the great semicircle
with extreme care. A short while after, the trail was again struck, and
they swept on. But at both this place and at the ford valuable time had
been lost.

Noon found the Comanches still out of sight and hearing. But the trail
was fresh and easily seen, and it seemed only a question of endurance
upon one side or the other.

"If it wasn't for the jaded hosses," sighed Poke Stover. His own steed
was fairly fresh, but it would have been foolhardy for him to have gone
on ahead of the main body, with perhaps only one or two others being
able to do likewise. The Comanches would have liked nothing better than
to have gotten at the whites one at a time.

As the afternoon came and went, the party in pursuit began to grow
hungry. A few of the horsemen had brought rations with them, and these
were divided, each man and boy eating as he rode on. Some of the men
likewise carried liquor, and this was also divided, although Ralph and
Dan procured drinks of water at a spring instead. In those days it was
share and share alike with all of the settlers, and one man was
considered as good as another so long as he was honest and willing to
work. For dandies, from Philadelphia, New York, or other large cities,
the Texans had no use, nor did they love those who tried to show off
their learning. They were whole-souled, as it is called, to the core,
and they wanted everybody else to be so, too.

It was growing dark when Bowie called a halt on the edge of a small
clearing leading up to a hill thickly overgrown with scrub pines.

"We must be careful here, men," he said. "They may be scattered along
yonder timber belt, watching for us to uncover ourselves. We had better
move to the right and the left, and give the old signal if any of the
redskins appear in sight."

The split was made, but the Radburys and Poke Stover kept together. One
Indian was discovered, and the settler who saw him at once shouted, as
prearranged. Then the Indians, seeing that the attempt to draw the
whites into the open had failed, dashed along up the hillside, as
rapidly as the tangle of growth permitted. A number of shots were
exchanged, but nobody was hit.

During the afternoon one of the men had brought down a wild turkey, and
another several hares, for game of all kinds was still thick.

"That will do for supper," said Mr. Radbury. "But we will have to be
careful how we build a fire."

At seven o'clock the chase came to an end for the day, the jaded ponies
refusing to climb the hill that loomed up before them. One of the
ponies was a bucker, and threw his rider over his head into a
mesquite-bush.

"Thet settles Bill Darson," drawled the Texan, as he extricated himself
from his difficulty. "When the pony kicks, I kick, too. We don't go no
further jest now, hyer me!"

But Bowie, Mr. Radbury, and several others insisted upon gaining the
brow of the hill, as a point of vantage, and all plodded to the top,
where they went into camp in the midst of the trees, half a dozen men
being sent out to do picket duty, so that Bison Head's band might not
crawl up during the night and surprise them.

"I'd like to know what became of Wolf Ear and Hank Stiger," remarked
Dan, as he flung himself on the ground, glad enough to get out of his
high and uncomfortable Mexican saddle.

"They know enough to git out o' sight when thar's a fight on," answered
Poke Stover, with a broad laugh. "Them kind o' varmin always does."
Usually the frontiersman spoke fair English, but at times he dropped
into the vernacular of the plains.

"I hope he doesn't go back to the cabin, now it's deserted," put in
Ralph.

"He may do that!" burst out Dan. "I never thought of it before." And he
mentioned the matter to his father.

"He will hardly dare to go back, for other settlers will be coming up
from time to time," said Mr. Radbury. "He knows only too well that he
is already in bad favour with all straight-forward men."

"He's a sneak," said Ralph. "But by the way, father, you haven't told
us your story yet, although we have told ours."

"There is not much to tell, Ralph. I went for the deer, as you know. I
was dragging it back to the cabin, when I caught sight of several
Indians, and, by their movements, I saw that they wanted to cut me off
and, more than likely, slay me. I at once abandoned the deer and ran
deeper than ever into the woods."

"Of course they followed you?" came from Dan.

"Yes, they followed me, but only one or two shots were exchanged, and I
was not hit. I think I wounded one Indian, but I am not certain. Then I
gave them the slip and climbed into the king pine, as you boys named
the tree. You remember the signal I gave you?"

"To be sure."

"I meant I would try to get help near by, if possible. I had seen
several lumbermen around, and I fancied they might be down the river a
mile or so. I ran along the river with all my might, and there met Poke
Stover and told him what was happening. He at once agreed to go to your
aid, and urged me to arouse the settlers around Gonzales. He promised
to hold the cabin and stand by you as long as he could draw his
breath."

"And he did it!" cried Ralph. "He's a noble man."

"At first I could find nobody at home," went on Mr. Radbury. "Joel
Nalitt was away, and at the Runyons' only the women folks were in. But
over to the Powers's ranch I met Powers, Anderson, Striker, and a
German, who was a stranger, and they said they would all come along.
Anderson rode over to Whippler's, and those two brought along the other
men. It's too bad that Whippler was killed."

All in the party agreed with Mr. Radbury in this, although some said
that it was better Whippler should be killed than some man with a wife
and children. Whippler and his late wife had never had any offspring.

The night was raw and cold, and toward morning a fine rain set in,
adding greatly to the discomforts of the whites. The game brought down
proved but a scanty meal all around, and for breakfast there remained
absolutely nothing.

"This is too bad," said Dan, referring to the rain. He was soaked to
the skin, and so was everybody else in the party.

The trail was taken up as soon as it was light enough to see, and the
Indians were followed fully fifteen miles, over a winding way leading
over hills and rocks, and through immense belts of timber land. They
had to ford several streams, and at one of these points they stopped
for an hour to catch and cook some black bass, which were plentiful.
Toward nightfall the chase came to an end.

"It's no use," said one of the oldest of the settlers. "They've got too
good a start of us, and it will be foolishness for a mere handful of
whites to ride right into the Indian country. They'll lay a trap and
massacre every one of us."

All of the others agreed with the spokesman, and it was not long before
the party was riding back toward Gonzales. At first they followed the
winding trail, but, coming to one of the numerous creeks of the
vicinity, they branched off and took almost a direct route to the town.

"Will you go back with us?" asked Mr. Radbury of Poke Stover, when it
came time for the Radburys to separate from the others. The ranch home
could be seen from the top of a neighbouring hill, and all seemed to be
as they had left it two days before.

"Yes, I reckon I will," answered the frontiersman. "I ain't got nothin'
else to do, and ye may want an extra man about fer a day or two, jest
for to keep his eye open."

The storm had cleared away, and the sun was shining brightly as the
party of four rode up to the battered door of the deserted cabin. Down
around the cattle shed the cows were browsing away as usual, and
several of the pigs gave Ralph a grunt of recognition as he passed
them.

"Home again!" cried Dan, and hopping to the ground he crawled through
the doorway into the living-room of the cabin. As he went in he noticed
that the body of the dead red man had been removed from the doorstep.

"Is it all right?" asked Ralph, when a cry from his brother aroused
him.

"An Indian!" came from Dan. He had discovered a wounded red man lying
on the floor in the corner. Then he gazed around the room and glanced
into the sleeping apartment.

"Father, come in, quick!" he went on. "Somebody has been here, and has
carried off a dozen or more things. And your desk is broken open, too,
and all your papers are scattered about. Did you have any money in the
desk?"




CHAPTER IX.

BIG FOOT AND THE MISSING PAPERS.


Dan's cry brought Mr. Radbury into the cabin without further delay,
followed by Ralph and Poke Stover.

"What has been stolen?" queried Amos Radbury. "I see that old
Revolutionary sword of your grandfather is gone."

"So are two of the pistols, and that half dozen solid silver spoons
mother got from Aunt Elizabeth," answered Dan. "But what of money in
the desk?"

"I had but little--not over twenty dollars all told, Dan." Mr. Radbury
walked over to the little desk, which was a rude affair made by himself
during his leisure hours. "Yes, it's been ransacked pretty thoroughly."

"Is anything missing?" asked Ralph.

"I can't say." Amos Radbury looked over a number of the papers. "I
guess they are all right. No, there is my discharge from the army,
after the war of 1812. The rascal who broke open the desk took the
pleasure of tearing that in half." He rummaged about a bit more.
"Hullo, it's gone!" he cried.

"What's gone?" came from both boys.

"The papers relating to this grant of land."

"Are you sure?" asked Dan.

"Yes, it isn't anywhere about."

Mr. Radbury was more worried about the papers pertaining to the land
grant than over anything else, and at once a search was instituted,
outside of the ranch home as well as indoors. It proved of no
avail,--the papers were gone.

"Will it do much harm?" asked Ralph, who knew very little as yet about
real estate matters.

"It may and it may not," answered the father. "Of course the grant is
recorded, but with matters in such a revolutionary state the records
may at some time be destroyed, and then somebody else might come
forward and claim this grant."

"Well, I reckon you won't give it up, partner," put in Poke Stover,
suggestively.

"Not without a fight, Stover," was Mr. Radbury's firm answer. "The land
is mine, paid for, and I'll hold it, papers or no papers, and no matter
how the affairs of the government turn."

"I wonder who was the thief," mused Dan. "I don't believe it was an
Indian. He might take the other things, but he wouldn't know anything
about the papers, nor care for them."

"He might be cute enough to take the papers just to throw us off the
scent," suggested Ralph.

"You're wrong, Ralph, for he wouldn't know one paper from another."

"But he'd know the land papers were important, because of the seals on
them," persisted the youngest Radbury.

The Indian in the corner now demanded their attention. He was plainly
in a bad way, and Poke Stover said it was very doubtful if he would
live.

"If he does pull through it will only be because he's a redskin and as
tough as all creation," added the old frontiersman.

In his guttural tongue the redskin appealed to Dan for a drink of
water.

"Certainly, I'll give you a drink," answered the boy, kindly, and went
out to get some water that was cool. After the Indian had had his fill,
Dan used the remainder of the water in washing his wounds and then
bound them up. After this he got out an old blanket, and he and Ralph
placed the wounded fellow on this. Before, the red man's face had had a
scowl on it, but now it became more friendly.

"White boys heap good," he grunted. "Big Foot no forget dem," and he
nodded his head suggestively. He had been shot in the leg, and was
suffering from loss of blood.

"Tell me who robbed the cabin," said Dan, for he felt that Big Foot had
had nothing to do with it.

The Indian knit his brow in speculation.

"White boy ask Big Foot hard question," he said, presently.

"But you must know."

"Big Foot t'ink know, not sure. Big Foot crawl in here out of hot sun.
He half dead. Udder man come, rob place while Big Foot half dead."

"Well, who do you imagine the other man was? It couldn't have been one
of your tribe."

"I t'ink him half my tribe. I t'ink him 'Merican-Indian, um Hank
Stiger."

"Hank Stiger!" cried Dan. "Father, did you hear that?"

"What is it, Dan?"

"This Indian was half in a faint when the cabin was robbed, but he
thinks the thief was Hank Stiger."

"That is not improbable, for Stiger was around this vicinity and did
not fight with the Comanches. He could easily have come in after we
went off on the trail. When was the robbery committed?"

"Him come in at the last sundown," answered Big Foot, meaning the
evening before.

"Alone?"

"Yes."

"And which way did he go?"

The wounded red man could not answer this query, and he now became so
exhausted that the others questioned him no further.

The fire was started up, and a generous meal for all hands was
prepared, of which the Indian was given all that was good for him. Then
the red man went to sleep, while the Radburys began to mend the
battered door and put things into shape generally. Poke Stover went off
to the timber, to find out what had become of Ralph's deer, and to see
if any of the enemy were still lurking in the vicinity.

It was learned by nightfall that no Indians were around for miles, and
this made the Radburys breathe much more easily. Strange to say, Stover
had found the deer just where Mr. Radbury had left it, and now brought
it in.

"A good shot, lad," said the old frontiersman to Ralph. "No one could
have made a better."

"Yes, it was a good shot," answered the boy. "I'm afraid I'll not be
able to do as well every time."

"You mustn't expect it. If you could do as well every time you'd be as
fine a shot as Davy Crockett himself."

"They tell me Crockett thinks of coming down to Texas," put in Mr.
Radbury. "They say he is tired of things up in Tennessee."

"Yes, I heard he was coming down," replied Poke Stover. "Well, he's a
wonderful old fighter, and if we have any trouble with the Mexicans ye
can reckon on it as how he'll be to the front from the very start." How
true was the old frontiersman's prediction the future chapters of our
tale will show.

They hardly knew what to do with the Indian. Stover wished to turn him
out to shift for himself, but the boys pleaded for the wounded red man,
and in the end he was allowed to remain where he was. The Radburys
retired to their sleeping-apartment, while Stover made himself
comfortable in front of the big open fireplace. All, however, slept, as
the saying goes, "with one eye open."

The next week was a busy one. It was found that not only had the
Indians attacked the cabin, but they had also tried to wreck the cattle
shed, and both structures had to be mended and put into order. During
the absence of the settlers some of the cattle and the mustangs had
strayed away to other ranges, and these had to be rounded up, for in
those days men of limited means, like Mr. Radbury, did not allow their
live stock to wander far away, to be rounded up once or twice a year.
If they had allowed this, cattle and ponies might have gotten into the
Indian country and never been heard of again.

At the end of the week Poke Stover left, stating that he was going to
make a trip to San Antonio de Bexar, to learn how matters were going
politically.

"There may be a scrap on already," he remarked, "and, if so, I don't
want to be sitting here, sucking my thumbs."

"I admire your sentiment," replied Mr. Radbury. "If there is trouble,
can I rely upon you to give me warning?"

"Certainly," answered Poke Stover.

He left on Saturday morning, and on Sunday Big Foot sat up for the
first time. The Radburys had done their best for him, and for this he
was extremely grateful.

"Big Foot pay back some day," he said. "Pay back sure." The boys hardly
gave attention to these words, but had good cause to remember them
later.

During the next few months matters ran smoothly, until one day when
some of the settlers from Gonzales came in. They reported another
Indian uprising farther eastward, and declared that the local
government was doing nothing to check the red men.

"We must take the law into our own hands, neighbour Radbury," said one,
who lived a matter of thirty miles away, yet considered himself a
fairly close neighbour. "The Mexicans don't care a rap for us, and I
reckon they'd just as lief see the Injuns ride over us as not."

"I trust Santa Anna does the right thing by us," answered Mr. Radbury.

"I wouldn't trust any of 'em."

"Well, if they don't do right, they had better look out for Sam
Houston, or he'll be on their heels."

"Yes, I've great faith in Houston," was the other settler's answer.
"He's a lawyer and a fighter, and I reckon he can whip 'em both in the
court-room or on the battle-field."




CHAPTER X.

THE SITUATION IN MEXICO.


In his conversation with his neighbour, Mr. Radbury had mentioned Santa
Anna, and it may be as well to look for a moment at this remarkable
personage, who at that time, and for several years to follow, was the
most important man in Mexico.

Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna was born in Jalapa, in 1795, and entered
the army at an early age. With Iturbide he joined in the revolution and
came out a brigadier-general, and was made commandant of Vera Cruz. A
few years later he organised a revolt and overthrew the man he had
aided, and in 1828 he deposed Pedraza and put Guerrero in his place.

So much of war would have satisfied any ordinary man, but it did not
satisfy General Santa Anna, who was cruel and cunning to the last
degree, and prided himself on being "The Napoleon of the West," as he
styled himself. He wanted Mexico for his own, and in 1829 he defeated a
large division of the Spanish army, that had landed at Tampico for the
purpose of reconquering the country.

Having saved the Confederation, as he put it, Santa Anna considered
that he had more of a right to Mexico than ever, and in 1832 he got
into a wrangle with Bustamente, who was then occupying the Mexican
presidential chair, with the result that Bustamente was banished by
Santa Anna's followers, who forthwith made the general president. At
this Santa Anna went still further by dissolving the Mexican congress,
which action made him virtually a dictator. How it was that the
Mexicans at large stood such treatment is one of the political
mysteries of the age that has never been explained.

Yet Santa Anna's dictatorship, if such it may be called, was a position
full of peril. There was constant wrangling in nearly every state of
the Confederation, and in a number of places there were actual
outbreaks, which might have resulted seriously had Santa Anna not
nipped them promptly in the bud. Stephen Austin had gone to Mexico to
further the interests of the Texans, and been there imprisoned for
political reasons. This helped along the war between Texas and Mexico,
which was bound to burst sooner or later.

The first dark cloud came in the passage of a decree reducing the
number of the militia to one man for every five hundred inhabitants,
and requiring all the remaining armed persons to give up their weapons.
The Texans refused to submit, stating that they needed all the
protection they could get, on account of the Indians and because of the
desperadoes who flocked into the territory. In the meantime Mexico had
sent many of her jailbirds to settle in Texas.

While this was going on, during the summer of 1835, Austin returned
from his imprisonment in Mexico, and was given a grand public banquet
at Brazoria. In his speech there he counselled moderation, but declared
that the civil government was going to pieces, and that the Texans must
take care of themselves. He still believed in Santa Anna and his golden
promises, hoping against hope for a peaceful change for the better.

At San Antonio were stationed five hundred Mexican soldiers, under
Colonel Ugartchea, and, according to orders, this command commenced to
disarm such of the Texans as had failed to comply with the decree
regarding firearms. At Gonzales, fifty miles to the eastward, the
settlers had a four-pounder, a brass cannon given to them by the
government for protection against the Indians.

"The people of Gonzales must give up the cannon," said Colonel
Ugartchea. "Tell them to send it to Bexar without delay."

"We need the cannon," said the people of Gonzales. "It's the only
cannon we have along the whole river front."

"Santa Anna's orders must be obeyed," was the Mexican colonel's
comment, and he despatched a force of one hundred and fifty dragoons,
under Captain Castinado, to take the cannon by force. The Mexican
soldiers arrived at the river on September 28th. On the opposite side
of the stream was Gonzales, but the ferry-boat was on that side, too.

The Mexican commander waved for the boat, but no attention was paid to
his movement. Then a horn was blown, but still the Texans paid no
attention.

"We will march to the ford," cried the Mexican captain, and the
dragoons started. But on reaching the ford, half a mile below the town,
they found themselves confronted by Captain Albert Martin, a merchant
of the place, backed up by several dozens of determined-looking Texans.

The alarm had now gone forth, and express riders rode their steeds
almost to death to summon the people of Bastrop, Victoria, and other
places. Soon the settlers began to flock in, all on horseback and
armed, ready to do or die for Texas, as the case might be. With the
number were Mr. Radbury and Dan. Dan had been to Gonzales to buy some
household stores, and his father, hearing of the uprising, had hastened
down the river to find his son and see that no harm befell him. This
had left Ralph home alone, saving for the company of Pompey Shuck, a
negro, who had, during the summer, followed Mr. Radbury from the old
home in Georgia and insisted that he be taken in and set to work, "jess
as on de ole plantation, Mars' Radbury." Big Foot, the Indian, had
departed some time before Pompey's arrival.