Sergeant Silk the Prairie Scout Part 14

While they discussed, they proceeded to empty the bottle of what Derrick had called liquid refreshment, and it was perhaps because of his anxiety to secure his full share of the drink that Hen Faxon failed to detect a repet.i.tion of the faint rustling sound outside the hut which had previously caught his attention. It is more probable, however, that the movement was so slight that even if he had been listening for it he could not have known that it was anything more than the mere whispering of the wind in the surrounding brush.

No Indian scout, skilled in the art of taking cover, could have accomplished his purpose more silently than did the man who had stealthily crawled up to the rear of the ruined shanty to watch and listen.

Keeping still as a rock, lying at full length along the ground with an eye at a knot-hole in one of the timbers, hardly breathing lest he should betray his presence, he had heard every word that had been spoken; and now, knowing that he could discover nothing further, he was stealing away to make prompt use of his secret.

Very slowly, very silently, inch by inch, he crawled on hands and knees through the tangled brushwood and rank gra.s.s, working his way up the rising ground until he came to the edge of the coulee. Then he rose to his feet, looked back to a.s.sure himself that he had not been seen, and strode quickly but very cautiously through a belt of trees to where his horse was waiting, watching him as he approached.

"Quiet!" he whispered as he drew near, and the animal seemed to understand, for it made no movement, no slightest sound, but stood rigidly still until the rider had swung himself into the saddle.

"Steady, girlie!" he muttered. "No need to hurry, just yet."

He unb.u.t.toned his military coat and under its cover dexterously struck a match on the milled edge of his watch. The tiny flame gleamed only for a moment upon his scarlet tunic, but in that moment he had seen the dial of his watch, with the fingers pointing to a quarter to eleven.

"Good!" he decided, as he seized the bridle rein. "We can take it easy, and yet get to Rattlesnake Ranch before sunrise."

CHAPTER X

THE OUTSIDE Pa.s.sENGERS

"Stage comin' along, boys. Fifteen minutes inside of scheduled time."

The hotel at Soldier's Knee was thronged with ranchers and cowboys who had come into the little settlement to attend the stock market.

Some of the men were gambling at the card-tables, some were drinking at the bar, others stood in groups discussing the prospects of their crops of fruit and corn or the work of the lumber camps, and the air of the saloon was dense with pungent tobacco smoke and strong language. It was one seated on the sill of the open window who reported the coming of the mail.

"'Tain't often we sees sich a crowd of pa.s.sengers this time of year," he added.

"Pa.s.sengers? A crowd?"

Alf Bulger emptied his gla.s.s, took up his long-lashed driving-whip, and strode towards the door, looking more like a western cowboy than a coach-driver, with his buckskin jacket and wide-rimmed hat, his leather leggings, and his brace of formidable-looking revolvers. He was to take charge of the express from Soldier's Knee east as far as Kananaskis, and he was naturally personally interested in the announcement concerning pa.s.sengers.

"A crowd, eh?" he repeated in a tone of surprise.

Usually it did not greatly matter to him whether there were few pa.s.sengers or many, or, indeed, if there were none at all. The Government mail-bags were his princ.i.p.al freight. Pa.s.sengers were, as a rule, a secondary consideration.

He silently watched the lumbering coach approaching along the trail in a cloud of white dust, and he drew a deep breath of relief when he discovered that what his neighbour had announced as a crowd resolved itself into three individuals.

"Say, Alf," observed a young rancher at his elbow. "You'll need ter be on your Sunday best behaviour this trip. I see one of your pa.s.sengers is a parson, and--yes, a female woman alongside of him. Guess she's his daughter. I allow she's the one as leads off with the camp meetin'

hymns. A woman's voice fetches the boys every time. Wonder if they're shapin' to hold a revival meetin' in Soldier's Knee while the team's bein' changed!"

"Maybe they're figgerin' ter settle down right here," suggested Alf, his wish being father to the thought. "Thar's a consid'rable stock of all-round iniquity for 'em to work upon. What d'you make of the third pa.s.senger? Kinder commercial traveller, by the cut of him, I'd say."

"Yep. Guess that's his mark. I've seen him before, along this trail.

Seen him a week ago, on the westbound stage. Comes from Ottawa."

"Ah!" nodded Alf Bulger with satisfaction. He, too, had seen the pa.s.senger before and knew him to be the bank messenger whom he had expected. "A nice, harmless, meek an' mild sort of chap. Looks as if he didn't know a pistol from an infant's feedin' bottle."

When the coach came to a halt in front of the hotel, Bulger strode forward to superintend the changing of the horses. While he did so he paid curious regard to his three pa.s.sengers.

The elderly gentleman in clerical attire and blue goggles appeared to be sleepy or ill, or to be so well accustomed to travelling that the arrival at a new stopping-place had no interest for him. His girl companion was equally indifferent to her surroundings, excepting that she leant forward on the rail of the driver's seat to inspect the new team of horses.

As for the meek and mild young man at the rear, his attention was divided between cleaning his eyes of dust and guarding the heavy box on the seat beside him, as if he feared that it might mysteriously vanish if he were so much as to lift his elbow from its iron-clamped lid.

"Say, misters," Bulger called up. "Thar's time fer you ter git down if you wants suthin' t' eat. Thar's not many sich tip-top hotels along the trail."

It was the girl who answered, without lifting the thick blue gauze veil that hid her face.

"Thank you, driver," she said, "but we had refreshments at the last stopping-place, and we've lots of sandwiches. What's the name of this place?"

"Soldier's Knee, miss," answered Bulger.

"Dear me, what strange, outlandish names they do give to these stations!" the girl remarked. "Why Soldier's Knee instead of elbow, or ankle?"

Bulger shook his head and grinned.

"Dunno, missy," he responded. "Y'see, I warn't present at the christenin'."

The meek and mild young man leant over and spoke to him.

"If it's no trouble, driver," he said, "I wish you would order a cup of tea for me."

Bulger looked up at him with calculating curiosity, giving an eye at the same time to the strong box.

"Guess you'd best jump down an' have it at the bar," he suggested. "That yer dressin' case of yourn ain't got wings, I reckon. Still, if you'd ruther take it in the open air, I'll oblige."

And so deciding he disappeared into the saloon.

The girl turned half round, speaking for the first time to the man behind her.

"You are wise to keep your seat, stranger," she said softly.

He looked at her sharply, almost with suspicion.

"Why?" he questioned, glancing with even greater suspicion at her strangely silent and morose companion with the blue goggles.

"Oh, I don't just know," she returned lightly. "I suppose you have your orders not to let that box be out of your sight."

The young man went very red and was obviously confused.

"What do you know about the box?" he asked pointedly.

"Nothing but what I have observed," she replied. "It looks a kinder ordinary box for carrying samples. But the canvas is worn at the corner, and I can see an iron band. When the coach lurched, crossing the divide, the box was so heavy that the seat creaked under its weight. Guess it ain't likely to be packed with feathers. I've seen the address label, too, and you wouldn't be takin' feathers to a bank in Ottawa. And, again, you're carryin' a six-shooter. I caught sight of it when you opened your coat to look at the time, a while back. Say, now, is it loaded, that pistol of yours? I do hope it won't explode, and me sittin'

so near! But it ought to be loaded."

"Lucy!" Her companion in clerical attire spoke to her reprovingly.