Chapter XVII: Indian Tactics

It was a failing of McIvor's, this instant response to the call of any friend for aid; and yet when Meshackatee laid his plans before him he was glad he had agreed to join him. For Meshackatee above all things was a man of action; and action, with Hall, was a necessity. All the days he had spent prowling in the hills like an animal had been wasted, as he looked back at them now; for Allifair's brothers would come, and come soon, if only to kill a McIvor. They were hard men to deal with, or had proved so to him, and there was many an old score that might be settled even yet if they could pick up his trail again. He had been lost before, given up for dead by his parents and the men of both clans; but this call from their aunt, and their sister's love affair, would bring them from wherever they lurked. And now, unless he was willing to see her snatched away, he must strike a last blow to win Allifair.

"No, I'll tell you," expounded Meshackatee, "they's no use doing anything until we've throwed the hooks into Isham. He's the leader of the gang and as long as he's there you can't git away with that girl. He's got men on the trails, and Injun spies out everywhere, to say nothing of them organized horse-thieves; and whichever way you ride he's going to reach out and git you--unless, of course, you git him. Now here's the proposition, and I'll put it to you straight, jest exactly as it was put up to me. We're deputy sheriffs, see, drawing ten dollars per diem to serve these here warrants on the Scarboroughs; but I've been told unofficially that the county'll be jest as well pleased if they're killed while resisting arrest. The idee is to git 'em to resist. Tonto County, as I understand it, has got jest enough money to pay for deputies, but none for expensive court proceedings. When it comes to a showdown, the Scarborough outfit has got more money than the county--and you know what these lawyers are like. But that ain't our business, we're here to serve these warrants, and I'm going to start in on Isham.

"Now there's a man, Mr. Hall, that I thought I knowed well and I always claimed he was a coward. It jest shows how you sometimes git fooled. When it comes to a showdown that jasper always weakened, but it was jest because he was foxy. He knowed if he drawed the other feller would git him, and so he never drawed. He hired gunmen to do his fighting because gunmen was cheap and he wanted to keep out of jail; but when them Slash-knife boys fell down he seen right there he'd have to do his dirty work himself. That was the time when the dog-hair cropped out on him and I seen, by grab, he was a killer. Not a gun-fighter, mind ye--and they're dangerous enough--but one of these sneaking, calculating kind. He fights like the A-paches, never showing a head and always shooting from ambush; and the only way we'll git him is to go him one better--we've got to out-Injun him, that's all!"

"I'm ready," replied Hall. "Why not start right now?" And Meshackatee took him at his word.

They headed off east up the dim, Indian trail that Meshackatee had followed down to water; and as the stars wheeled in their courses Hall saw their direction change until at last they were going northwest. They had scrambled up a wash and then on up grassy slopes which led to the big ridge behind; and from there they had turned north, following a trail that dipped and twisted as it skirted the east slope of Turkey Creek. They rode and walked by turns, driving the pack-animal before them; and as the east began to flush they took to high ground and camped through the long, sultry day.

The summer heat was at its height, the close, oppressive heat that presages torrential rains to come; and from the top of their butte they could see the white thunderheads, riding majestically up above the Rim. Below them lay the canyon with Turkey Creek at its bottom and, still further northwest, the broad swales of Maverick Basin showed dimly through a pass in the hills. Hall looked it all over through Meshackatee's big glasses, when it came his turn to stand guard; and then he looked back along the trail which they had followed, trying to fix every landmark in his mind. For if all went well the time would soon come when he would be fleeing through the night with Allifair; and every butte and ridge, every turn in that dim trail, must be stamped indelibly on his memory. He traced it out again, noting each landmark through his glasses, and then suddenly he picked up an Indian. He had stepped out from some scrub-oaks and was examining their tracks, where they had passed through a sandy swale, and as he disappeared into the brush Hall ran and wakened Meshackatee, but the Apache did not show himself again.

"He's down in some gulch," observed Meshackatee sagely, "probably legging it to take the news to Isham. Two white men, one on foot; and two horses, one drove ahead; and a dog--well, that will be Meshackatee. And the man on foot--the chances are good that Isham will guess it's you. Well, watch along Turkey Creek and if you see any one crossing, wake me up and we'll make a quick move."

Hall watched and as the day wore on towards evening he saw what Meshackatee had feared. Six horsemen in single file came trotting down the creek, half-hidden behind the tall brush; but when Meshackatee came the enemy had vanished again and the trails were bare--too bare.

"We'll move," stated Meshackatee, "as soon as it's dark; and if you're game, I am--we'll ride across country and try to come out at the Rock House. Might as well head for the place we're going to, even if I don't know the way none too well."

"All right," agreed Hall, "and if we find cover in time I'll slip down and spy on the house."

"Bad business," grumbled Meshackatee, "don't like this a little bit. Them cowboys are out for our hair."

They remained at the lookout until it was dark and then, packing swiftly, struck out to the west, following cow-trails clear to the creek. There they watered their horses and started up the other side; but the canyon which they ascended boxed up near the summit and they had to return to the creek. Meshackatee's plans had gone awry, putting him in a very bad humor; but after thinking it over he moved up a side canyon and took shelter on a bench above the stream.

Here they tied out their horses in a narrow cove which was surrounded on three sides by wooded slopes; and then, with his dog sleeping against his back, Meshackatee sprawled out and went to sleep. But the failure of their plans had left McIvor uneasy--he did not approve of this camp above the trail; and as morning approached he rose up silently and felt his way down to the stream. This was the hour that he dreaded, just before the break of day, and he crept along the ground regardless of the dew which weighed down the heavy grass.

There had been noises in the night and 'Pache had growled repeatedly, some wild cattle had jumped suddenly and fled; and as he drew near the water he noticed that the grass had been trampled on the opposite side of the stream. He slipped down closer, hardly stirring a twig as he moved, and the first flush of dawn showed men's tracks in the sand--and the dew had been knocked from the grass! He lay silent, his heart thumping; there was a stir across the creek, a stir and the hunch of a head. That was enough--he glided away like a rattlesnake, and Meshackatee woke up with a jump. They were surrounded--he knew that from the look in Hall's eyes--and, catching up his gun from the fold of his blanket, he rolled over behind a big rock.

"Where are they at?" he whispered, and when Hall told him he grunted and began to pile up rocks. Hall dug in also, making a loop-hole through which to shoot and laying out his cartridges in rows; and 'Pache, sensing the enemy, crouched down anxiously between them, growling low and sniffing the wind. A deathlike silence fell upon the narrow canyon as they settled back to wait for the attack; but not a bush stirred--the Scarboroughs were still hoping they would saddle up and ride down the hill. Ride up to their very guns and then with one volley they could snuff out their lives together. But their ambush had been detected and now Meshackatee and Hall were searching the brushy hillside for a target.

"No use," complained Meshackatee, "they must've heard us digging. Let's start something, before they scatter out."

He took off his old hat and stuck it on a stick and as it bobbed above the boulder an explosive bullet struck it, spattering the ground about them with lead. 'Pache yelped as it struck him and cringed down beside Meshackatee who was cursing at the hole in his hat; and then Hall saw a movement below the smoke puff and answered with a shot that drew a volley. The whole hillside seemed to belch forth smoke, but the bullets for the most part went high; the Scarboroughs were below them, hidden away among the boulders which had fallen from the rimrock above.

"They can't reach us," chuckled Meshackatee, snuggling up to his loop-hole and shooting back at the smoke; but a crash from behind brought them both to a right-about and raised a cheer from below. The explosive bullets had stampeded their pack-horse and they were just in time to see him go smashing through the brush and fall into the creek-bed below.

"Makes no difference," grumbled Meshackatee, "don't need him now, nohow--be lucky to git out of here afoot."

Hall made no comment but down in his heart he agreed with Meshackatee fully--they would be lucky to get out alive. Behind them the steep slopes were sparsely covered with timber, but not enough to protect them in their flight; and the sound of the firing would bring the whole Scarborough clan to make their position worse. It was a dangerous place to be, and yet not more dangerous than others where he had been compelled to make a stand. And he had often observed that, where both sides were shooting from cover, it was seldom that any one was hurt. Only one thing was necessary--they must maintain their position until darkness should cover up their flight. He peeped out through his loop-hole, shooting warily at stray smoke-puffs, and they settled themselves for the siege.

But the men that they were fighting were not satisfied to wait, they had other strings to their bow; and as Hall and Meshackatee lay behind their rock shelter a bullet struck between them.

"Judas Priest!" exclaimed Meshackatee, as his dog ran off yelping; and then, seeing the smoke from a point across the creek he hastily changed his front. Hall piled up rocks before them, but Meshackatee lay watching, and when the next bullet came he shot.

"Behind that big boulder," he said. "You watch me smoke him out of that."

"Haven't got time," answered Hall, but Meshackatee did not smile--he was slipping an explosive cartridge into his gun. He thrust out his rifle and lay sighting along the barrel and at a puff from the boulder he fired. Another bullet struck their rock-pile, and dangerously near; but the man behind the boulder leapt up as if he were shot and Hall saw that it was an Indian. He darted off along the hillside with Meshackatee still shooting at him, and at the second shot he fell. But even when he was down Meshackatee shot him again and the Indian lay a huddle in the sun.

"I'll show you!" muttered Meshackatee, "you doggoned rat-eater. You're the _hombre_ that's been raising all this hell. Well, see how you like that, and mebbe the rest of them A-paches will learn to lay off of Meshackatee."

He turned to Hall and nodded triumphantly.

"What'd I tell ye?" he said. "Did you see me smoke him out? Busted a big explosive bullet on that rock jest behind him and burned him up with hot lead. But I knowed, by grab, no Teehanno could bushwack me--they've gone and hired A-paches."

"There's another one!" exclaimed Hall, as another plunging shot came over the top of their fort; and Meshackatee grabbed for his cartridges.

"Better git out of here," he said, and was turning to scuttle away when a rifle opened up down the creek. It was shooting fast and almost rhythmically, and another lighter gun joined in; then there was a tattoo of answering shots, trailing off into silence as the fighters emptied their magazines.

"What's that?" asked Hall, and Meshackatee shook his head--he was watching the rocky hill. Something moved among the boulders, his rifle roared out again; and as a tall Texan broke to run they both opened fire. He dropped his gun and ran on.

"They're all going!" exclaimed Hall, turning to shoot into the creek-bed; and now there was no answer as with harrying shots they followed the flight of the bush-whackers. Whoever they were they were fleeing in a panic--the battle had been won, but by whom?