Chapter IV

JENNINGS' ATTEMPT ON RED'S LIFE IS FOILED.

So utterly unexpected was the attack that neither Jennings nor Shaw were able to resist as they were borne to the ground.

Their anger, however, at being tricked by the notorious outlaw a second time--for that their captors were none other than Red Rogers and his band the scouts did not need to be told--gave the frenzy of fury to their strength and they grappled with their assailants desperately.

Naturally powerful, the trained muscles of the scouts enabled them to pitch and toss the outlaws about the plateau. But, strive as he might, neither could break the vice-like hold about his neck.

Summoning all his strength, with a mighty effort, Jennings managed to get to his knees.

Like a maddened bull, Red Rogers snorted and puffed as he strove to force his captive down again. But the years of confinement in prison had sapped his former titanic strength, and it flashed to his mind that only by trickery could he overcome the wiry Scout.

Realizing the outlaw's lack of condition, as he felt his grip relax when he gained his knees, Jennings took courage.

But his joy was short lived.

With tremendous force, Red Rogers drove his knee into the spine of the Scout, at the same time jerking him backwards.

Powerless to resist, Jennings was flat on the plateau, and in a trice the outlaw was kneeling upon his chest, his flushed face grinning in triumph.

Shaw, however, had been no match for Pedro, and, cursing and squirming, was being securely roped by the bandit.

Fascinated, Scotty and the girl had watched the men struggling for mastery as they rolled about the plateau.

As it became evident that his fellows could not overcome the advantage gained by the outlaws in their rear attack, the youngster gritted his teeth at his impotence, then suddenly whirled upon the girl, swinging his arm in an attempt to knock the six shooters from her hands.

But Rosie was not to be caught napping.

Dodging the blow cleverly, she levelled her guns at the scout's head.

"Don't try that again," she exclaimed, quietly. "It's lucky for you, Red didn't see your move, or he'd make me drop you in your tracks. I suppose I'm a fool for not doing it, but you seem so young," she added, whimsically.

But bitterly was Red destined to repent the girl's soft-heartedness.

Pedro, however, noticed the changed position of the scout as he got to his feet after putting the last knot in Shaw's bonds and with an oath he was upon him.

"I'll fix you so you can't do any damage," he grunted, as he slipped a noose over Scotty's right hand, passed the rawhide lariat behind his back, took a turn about the left wrist and jerked both arms behind his back. "Rosie, you ought to have dropped him. He might have got you, and then things wouldn't have been so easy for Red and me."

"Well, he didn't," smiled the girl, "so there's no harm done. Besides, he's worth more to us alive than dead."

This remark, audible to all three of the captives, set them to wondering to what purpose the outlaw intended to put them, and it did not improve the tempers of the veterans to think that members of the Mounted Scouts should be made to serve Red Rogers' ends.

The task of binding Jennings was finally accomplished, and, exhausted by their efforts, the bandits squatted near the edge of the plateau to rest.

Pedro's method of binding the prisoners had been thorough. Tying the hands of each behind his back, he had taken two turns of the lariat about the upper arms, made a knot and then run the rawhide down the prisoner's back to the ankles, which he bound with a half dozen turns.

In this manner, the captives were rendered powerless to get to their feet or to work their arms.

One way of motion was left to them, however--they could roll.

In silence, the outlaws gazed out upon the panorama of rocks and trees below them.

"Wonder how long it will take for news of your escape to reach the Fort," mused Pedro, at last, looking at his chief.

"They probably knew it six hours after we got away," returned Red. "It ain't like the old days before there were telegraphs. Then, a man could break jail, get to cover and maybe pull off a raid before the news could be received. Now you can't more'n get out before the alarm has been sent to every Fort, sheriff and marshal.

"That's why I told Rosie to have you cut all the wires out of Keno before you came to the jail. Then I took the precaution to put the jailer's son out of commission before I left. He was the only telegraph operator in town."

This bit of information as to the manner of the outlaw's escape was eagerly listened to by the prisoners, and from it they learned that at least one life, that of the operator, had been sacrificed by Red in obtaining his freedom. They realized, also, that his cunning in having the wires all cut before the escape was attempted would delay the alarm being sent to the Fort and they were wondering as to the other details of the jail delivery when their attention was once more attracted to their captors.

"That was two nights ago," exclaimed Rosie. "By this time, that old turkey gobbler of a colonel at Griswold has probably ordered out a regiment on our trail."

This suggestive nickname for their superior caused the scouts to smile, but intently they waited upon Red's reply.

"Sure thing. I'll stake the gold in my belt against an empty cartridge shell there are more than two hundred troopers within ten miles of us this very minute," the notorious bandit declared.

"Then let's get away from here quick," returned the girl, getting to her feet in evident alarm at the thought of so many pursuers in such proximity.

"Don't worry, Rosie," comforted Red. "We're practically safe because they don't know where to look for us. That's why I shot our ponies last night and shoved the carcasses into Ten Mile creek. They won't find 'em and, learning from Keno we had horses, they'll never think of looking for a foot trail. Still, we'll be going as soon as you've cooked some grub. It won't be safe to have a fire after to-day till we get to the old Stockade."

"Then I'll get busy right away," asserted the girl. "Somehow, I don't feel safe here, and if our going depends on me, it won't be long before we start."

Even as she spoke, Rosie walked toward the entrance of the cave and soon disappeared within the gaping maw of the crevice.

At the mention of the outlaw's destination, the scouts had been amazed. Often had they heard of the Old Stockade, but, as none of the Mounted Scouts at the Post had ever seen it--or knew it's location--it had come to be regarded by the Service as a myth.

But Red's announcement was evidence of its existence, and excitedly Jennings and Shaw strove to recall the stories they had heard about it.

So far as either could remember, it was supposed to be a fort built in the mountain fastnesses of the "Bad Lands" as a refuge against attacks from Indians by a score of men who had discovered a gold mine.

That Red knew its whereabouts surprised them, and bitterly they cursed their inability to compare notes as to the place, due to the distance their captors had left them apart.

To Jennings, in particular, the thought of being carried into captivity by the desperado was torture. In his heart, he believed he could have overpowered the fellow if he had been attacked anywhere than from behind. And the more his mind dwelled on this, the more furious he became.

Suddenly, an idea occurred to him, and, raising his head, he surveyed his captors.

Red Rogers, he saw, was sitting about a yard from the edge of the plateau, while his companion was some ten feet to his left, both intently searching the land below for a glimpse of any pursuers.

"Red Rogers may think he's rendered us powerless, but I'll show him the only time a Mounted Scout is powerless is when he's dead!" muttered Jennings to himself.

And, as he spoke, he put his plan in operation.

With infinite stealth, he rolled to his side, then turned completely over, and, when he looked at his captors again, he was a foot nearer the notorious outlaw.

Slowly, cautiously, he rolled nearer and nearer.

How desperate his scheme of hurling Red Rogers to his doom was can be realized from the fact that, were it successful, the bandit would probably clutch and drag the scout over the edge of the plateau with him, or, if the rattle of a stone or a glance backward betrayed his purpose, a bullet would doubtless be the penalty for his daring.

But the danger did not daunt Jennings.

"It's for the good of the Service," he bravely told himself.

At last, scarce a yard separated him from his victim.

Determined to risk all on a final roll, the scout summoned his strength and turned over and over with increasing rapidity.

Fearful lest the thumping of his heart would warn the outlaw, Jennings saw that another roll would bring success or failure to his attempt on Red's life.

But, before he could take it, he was foiled.

"Look out! The scout's on you! Oh, Red!" rang out the voice of the girl.