The Sunset Trail

aid she was the "White Man's Medicine." When put on the scales and weighed, Inez kicked the beam at seventy pounds, or about one-eighth of what she might have we

g round-up. The mother fled like a shadow, but Inez, then in her babyhood and something the size of a jackrabbit, fell into the hands of the horse-hustler. That personage of ponies ro

n image of a full-grown mustang, Inez stood no higher than nine hands. One might pick her up and carry her under one's arm like a roll of blankets; and occasionally, for the fun of the thing, on

arched her small spine, dropped her velvet muzzle between her fetlocks-as slender as a woman's wrists-and sunfish

d meant for trade with the buffalo hunters, taking skins for calico, flour, fire-water, sugar, coffee, cartridges and guns. It lay two hundred miles to the back of no-where, and Dodge, ten days' journey away on the Arkansas, called itself the nearest civilization. The fixed population coun

f any tooth of hunger. If by design or accident the door were closed, Inez wheeled indignant tail and testified to a sense of injury with her heels. Since she broke a panel on one of these spit

ntoxicants and went committed to water as much as any temperance lecturer, the company she found in Mr. Hanrahan's was

et-bedded and sound asleep, lay twenty-one men. Most of them were buffalo hunters, all were equal to death at four hundred yards with one of their heavy guns. There were no pickets since there were no suspicions; for were not the Comanch

roke on the sleeping ears. It was Inez beating

stang out?" growl

standing inside, continued to beat it with her hoofs by way of tocsin. Mr. Masterson through t

given Inez. "What's she kicking about? That Congo hasn't fed her something that gives her a

ile away fenced the Canadian. There were five layers of tan on Mr. Masterson's face, each the work of a

shouted Mr.

. The door closed, he blazed away from a wind

stern day, rather from habit than apprehension, one would as soon think of going to bed witho

e Kiowas, and the Comanches. To give them spirit and add éclat to the fray, two hundred of their friends from the Pawnees and the Osages,

ods and the 'Dobe Walls. Great war-bonnets of eagles' feathers floated from every head. The manes and tails of the pon

d cedar. Coming forth of his trances and his songs, he brought word that the Great Spirit would fight on the side of His red children. His medicine told him they might r

d pay His red children for the work of waging war. Thus preached the medicine man; and his hearers were prompt with their belief. And thereupon they m

ined an Indian. Let one but cross her ladyship to windward, and with squeal of protest she furnished notice of her displeasure. Inez had gotten the taint of that line of copp

are. These let in light and air. Also, they made portholes from which to shoot. Ten seconds after Mr. Masterson's warning fusillade, two lynx-eye

notion from his vainglorious pate. He believes it, and thereon he transacts his wars. Upheld by it, his steady, cool ferocity of heart, makes his enemies believe it also; and in the end

ir fathers had played for a thousand years, never once crossed their slope of thought. They would cord up those flambuoyant savages; they would have a scalp to s

ce between those river cottonwoods and the 'Dobe Wa

ach time he brought away an arrow by the feather-end. With one motion the arrow was thrown across the bow; drawing it to the head, he sent it singing on like a hornet. The charging line of five hundred was preceded by an arrow-flight as thick as stubble, for these red experts shot so fast that the seventh arrow would leave the bow while yet the first was in

e loophole, "I'm going to hive that big one on the pinto po

ment the shield showed through both sights. The great bullet struck the shield where the bunch of painted feathers floated. It went through bull's-hide, arm, and savage shoulder behind the arm. The stricken

ace? That was because he found his shield no good. The bullet went through as tho

up an Indian of his own, and was watching him with the keenest interest,

about, not one of whom would ride again. The buffalo hunters had been sedulous to aim low and to see their hind-sights b

split the river's ice in the spring. They flashed by and ran into the low hills, a third of a mile to the rear. After the char

erson's Indian lay waving his one good hand for a sign

If he lives long enough, you and I by being sharp can kill a dozen

emper was timid and had crept behind the counter, regarding it as a cave of refuge in this trying hour. Stripped of her defences, Inez, who felt the peril though she m

ls. Taking advantage of it, Mr. Hanrahan sent round

o was not without wisdom concerning Indians, "they

more than one brown cheek. It was the clear, hig

r. Wright. "If it's another Mountain Meadow racket, boy

erson, "no Indian blew that bugle.

nd took position under the cottonwoods from which they had first charged. As Mr. Masterson foretold, two riding side and side had

he left, Billy," s

e whom they came to save. "What did I tell you!" exulted Mr. Masterson,

ixon, who having been three years from

he sound came from down in the fringe of cottonwoods; the bugl

d line of battle beneath the trees. Doubtless he had thought of a word of advice to give his fighting friends, whereof they stood i

ight here. And yet, it won't do to hurt him and bring the Osages upon us. Can't you down his pony, Bat, and send him back on foot? You're

rearranged his blanket, and soberly strutted back to his tribal friends whom he had quitted. His said friends took their pipes out of their mouths and laughed widely

e hail of steel-tipped arrows set in. The arrows broke against the mud walls of the building, and

jested his window mate. "Don't

cherally trimmed the barber a lot;" and he pointed t

odged, ran screaming to Mr. Masterson for protection. She knocked against that excellent marksman

, wherein shelled corn had been kept. Inez became instantly engaged with the stray kernels which she

st of them, and from the hills popped at the palefaces, looking from those openings in the 'Dobe Walls, with their rifles. The

en dug cautiously inside the building for just such a day as this. While the garrison were at breakfast, a sentinel went through the manhole and watched from the roof. There

estless with a lack of years and sore to be thus knocked about on their first warpath by a huddle of buffalo hunters, were galloping hither and yon. Their war bonnets still flaunted, and their ponies still

got buckhorn sights-coarse enough to drag a dog through 'em. Where's that close

ight, "but there's no cartri

over me, and I'll make a dash for the store. I want

d Mr. Hanrahan's saloon. There was a gate, but that had been closed and locked by Baldy Smith. Mr. Masterson's plan was to crawl under the gate, being invited by an o

ng their defences. At Mr. Masterson's shout, a wounded Indian, who was lying low in a clump of weeds, sat up and with the utmost good will pumped three bullets at him from a Spencer seven-shooter. The

aching the store, his first care was to borrow a rifle, poke a hole

g away at me on my return

shot through the lungs. His days were down to minutes;

ughtful Mr. Hanrahan's saloon. The store pump wa

. I'm the gent to go, because my eyes are too old and dim to

tter, he had passed sixty years; and for another, everybody love

eleaguered store would have hesitated to run the gauntlet of those savage rifles to bring water to young Thurston as he died. Yet not one would offer

ask of sliding through the opening after the bucket. The four who remained stood ready, should the sight of him cause a rush to cut him

tomachs were too weary for that. But their rifles cracked by twos and ten

spout, and five to fill the bucket. Smack! smack! the pump was struck a dozen times, whil

ombrero went whirling, the dog was shot down at his feet; still he pumped on. The bucket at last was filled. Daddy Keeler picked up his hat and fixed it on h

g the double hole the bullet had left: "It was a forty-four did that; some of 'em's shootin' Winchesters." For fourteen long, hot days the fight went on; now

. In the blinding height of a Panhandle summer it is no good thing to be cordoned about with dead ponies and dead Indians. There was never a danger; your

his scalp as an incontestable method of keeping accounts. On the fifteenth day, when the tr

n edge. She could see them; besides, they smelled fearfully of Indians. As long as no arrow came spitting and splintering through the openings, Inez was witho

shallow reaches of the Canadian, and headed south for the Staked Plains. Then the visiting Osages and Pawnees,

age chief, extending his hand to

nd whether by tint of plume or mark of braid, hidden

p a scalp; and then: "Kiowa, Cheyenne, Arrap

his shindy?" asked t

would say to the question. Black Feather, who believ

said he. "The longe

wart cavalry. The third charge was the black bugler's last. Striped and painted like the others, the burial party might never have known the r

ack to old-time lines, "we forgot to thank you for seeing those Indians that time. They'd have cinched us

have gone with Thurston, and those eighty bucks might be riding yet. It was pretty work, Bob, to stand off five hundred Indians fourteen days, and only lose one man against their eighty." Here Inez came mincingly through the door, like a fine