Ranson's Folly (Fiscle Part 3) - Richard Harding Davis (reading diary .txt) 📗
- Author: Richard Harding Davis
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Stooping, Pulled At It, But The Wheels Did Not Move.
Mrs. Truesdall Fell Into A Fresh Panic. "What Is It Now?" She Called,
Miserably.
Before He Answered, Hunk Smith Threw A Quick Glance Toward The Column
Of Moving Dust. He Was Apparently Reassured.
"The Brake," He Grunted. "The Darned Thing's Stuck!"
The Road Agent Was Tugging At The Stone Beneath Which He Had Slipped
His Bridle. "Can I Help?" He Asked, Politely. But Before He Reached
The Stage, He Suddenly Stopped With An Imperative Sweep Of His Arm
For Silence. He Stood Motionless, His Body Bent To The Ground,
Leaning Forward And Staring Down The Trail. Then He Sprang Upright.
"You Old Fox!" He Roared, "You're Gaining Time, Are You?"
With A Laugh He Tore Free His Bridle And Threw Himself Across His
Horse. His Legs Locked Under It, His Hands Clasped Its Mane, And With
A Cowboy Yell He Dashed Past The Stage In The Direction Of Kiowa
City, His Voice Floating Back In Shouts Of Jeering Laughter. From
Behind Him He Heard Hunk Smith's Voice Answering His Own In A Cry For
"Help!" And From A Rapidly Decreasing Distance The Throb Of Many
Hoofs. For An Instant He Drew Upon His Rein, And Then, With A Defiant
Chuckle, Drove His Spurs Deep Into His Horse's Side.
Mrs. Truesdall Also Heard The Pounding Of Many Hoofs, As Well As Hunk
Smith's Howls For Help, And Feared A Fresh Attack. "Oh, What Is It?"
She Begged
"Soldiers From The Fort," Hunk Called, Excitedly, And Again Raised
His Voice In A Long, Dismal Howl.
"Sounds Cheery, Doesn't It?" Said The Salesman; "Referring To The
Soldiers," He Explained. It Was His First Coherent Remark Since The
Red Rider Had Appeared And Disappeared.
"Oh, I Hope They Won't--" Began Miss Post, Anxiously.
The Hoof-Beats Changed To Thunder, And With The Pounding On The Dry
Trail Came The Jangle Of Stirrups And Sling-Belts. Then A Voice, And
The Coach Was Surrounded By Dust-Covered Troopers And Horses
Breathing Heavily. Lieutenant Crosby Pulled Up Beside The Window Of
The Stage. "Are You There, Colonel Patten?" He Panted. He Peered
Forward Into The Stage, But No One Answered Him. "Is The Paymaster In
Here?" He Demanded.
The Voice Of Lieutenant Curtis Shouted In Turn At Hunk Smith. "Is The
Paymaster In There, Driver?"
"Paymaster? No!" Hunk Roared. "A Drummer And Three Ladies. We've Been
Held Up. The Red Rider--" He Rose And Waved His Whip Over The Top Of
The Coach. "He Went That Way. You Can Ketch Him Easy."
Part 3 Title 1 (Ranson's Folly) Pg 21
Sergeant Clancey And Half A Dozen Troopers Jerked At Their Bridles.
But Crosby, At The Window, Shouted "Halt!"
"What's Your Name?" He Demanded Of The Salesman.
"Myers," Stammered The Drummer. "I'm From The Hancock Uniform--"
Curtis Had Spurred His Horse Beside That Of His Brother Officer. "Is
Colonel Patten At Kiowa?" He Interrupted.
"I Can't Give You Any Information As To That," Replied Mr. Myers,
Importantly; "But These Ladies And I Have Just Been Held Up By The
Red Rider. If You'll Hurry You'll--"
The Two Officers Pulled Back Their Horses From The Stage And, Leaning
From Their Saddles, Consulted In Eager Whispers. Their Men Fidgeted
With Their Reins, And Stared With Amazed Eyes At Their Officers.
Lieutenant Crosby Was Openly Smiling, "He's Got Away With It," He
Whispered. "Patten Missed The Stage, Thank God, And He's Met Nothing
Worse Than These Women."
"We Must Make A Bluff At Following Him," Whispered Curtis.
"Certainly Not! Our Orders Are To Report To Colonel Patten, And Act
As His Escort."
"But He's Not At Kiowa; That Fellow Says So."
"He Telegraphed The Colonel From Kiowa," Returned Crosby. "How Could
He Do That If He Wasn't There?" He Turned Upon Hunk Smith. "When Did
You Leave Henderson's?" He Demanded.
"Seven O'clock," Answered Hunk Smith, Sulkily. "Say, If You Young
Fellows Want To Catch--"
"And Patten Telegraphed At Eight," Cried Crosby. "That's It. He
Reached Kiowa After The Stage Had Gone. Sergeant Clancey!" He Called.
The Sergeant Pushed Out From The Mass Of Wondering Troopers.
"When Did The Paymaster Say He Was Leaving Kiowa?"
"Leaving At Once, The Telegram Said," Answered Clancey.
"'Meet Me With Escort Before I Reach The Buttes.' That's The Message
I Was Told To Give The Lieutenant."
Hunk Smith Leaned From The Box-Seat. "Mebbe Pop's Driving Him Over
Himself In The Buckboard," He Volunteered. "Pop Often Takes 'Em Over
That Way If They Miss The Stage."
"That's How It Is, Of Course," Cried Crosby. "He's On His Way Now In
The Buckboard."
Part 3 Title 1 (Ranson's Folly) Pg 22
Hunk Smith Surveyed The Troopers Dismally And Shook His Head. "If He
Runs Up Against The Red Rider, It's 'Good-By' Your Pay, Boys," He
Cried.
"Fall In There!" Shouted Crosby. "Corporal Tynan, Fall Out With Two
Men And Escort These Ladies To The Fort." He Touched His Hat To Miss
Post, And, With Curtis At His Side, Sprang Into The Trail. "Gallop!
March!" He Commanded.
"Do You Think He'll Tackle The Buckboard, Too?" Whispered Curtis.
Crosby Laughed Joyously And Drew A Long Breath Of Relief.
"No, He's All Right Now," He Answered. "Don't You See, He Doesn't
Know About Patten Or The Buckboard. He's Probably Well On His Way To
The Post Now. I Delayed The Game At The Stage There On Purpose To
Give Him A Good Start. He's Safe By Now."
"It Was A Close Call," Laughed The Other. "He's Got To Give Us A
Dinner For Helping Him Out Of This."
"We'd Have Caught Him Red-Handed," Said Crosby, "If We'd Been Five
Minutes Sooner. Lord!" He Gasped. "It Makes Me Cold To Think Of It.
The Men Would Have Shot Him Off His Horse. But What A Story For Those
Women! I Hope I'll Be There When They Tell It. If Ranson Can Keep His
Face Straight, He's A Wonder." For Some Moments They Raced Silently
Neck By Neck, And Then Curtis Again Leaned From His Saddle. "I Hope
He Has Turned Back To The Post," He Said. "Look At The Men How
They're Keeping Watch For Him. They're Scouts, All Of Them."
"What If They Are?" Returned Crosby, Easily. "Ranson's In Uniform--
Out For A Moonlight Canter. You Can Bet A Million Dollars He Didn't
Wear His Red Mask Long After He Heard Us Coming."
"I Suppose He'll Think We've Followed To Spoil His Fun. You Know You
Said We Would."
"Yes, He Was Going To Shoot Us," Laughed Crosby. "I Wonder Why He
Packs A Gun. It's A Silly Thing To Do."
The Officers Fell Apart Again, And There Was Silence Over The
Prairie, Save For The Creaking Of Leather And The Beat Of The Hoofs.
And Then, Faint And Far Away, There Came The Quick Crack Of A
Revolver, Another, And Then A Fusillade. "My God!" Gasped Crosby. He
Threw Himself Forwards Digging His Spurs Into His Horse, And Rode As
Though He Were Trying To Escape From His Own Men.
No One Issued An Order, No One Looked A Question; Each, Officer And
Enlisted Man, Bowed His Head And Raced To Be The First.
The Trail Was Barricaded By Two Struggling Horses And An Overturned
Buckboard. The Rigid Figure Of A Man Lay Flat Upon His Back Staring
At The Moon, Another White-Haired Figure Staggered Forward From A
Rock. "Who Goes There?" It Demanded.
Part 3 Title 1 (Ranson's Folly) Pg 23"United States Troops. Is That You, Colonel Patten?"
"Yes."
Colonel Patten's Right Arm Was Swinging Limply At His Side. With His
Left Hand He Clasped His Right Shoulder. The Blood, Black In The
Moonlight, Was Oozing Between His Fingers.
"We Were Held Up," He Said. "He Shot The Driver And The Horses. I
Fired At Him, But He Broke My Arm. He Shot The Gun Out Of My Hand.
When He Reached For The Satchel I Tried To Beat Him Off With My Left
Arm, But He Threw Me Into The Road. He Went That Way--Toward Kiowa."
Sergeant Clancey, Who Was Kneeling By The Figure In The Trail, Raised
His Hand In Salute. "Pop Henderson, Lieutenant," He Said. "He's Shot
Through The Heart. He's Dead."
"He Took The Money, Ten Thousand Dollars," Cried Colonel Patten. "He
Wore A Red Mask And A Rubber Poncho. And I Saw That He Had No
Stirrups In His Stirrup-Straps."
Crosby Dodged, As Though Someone Had Thrown A Knife, And Then Raised
His Hand Stiffly And Heavily.
"Lieutenant Curtis, You Will Remain Here With Colonel Patten," He
Ordered. His Voice Was Without Emotion. It Fell Flat And Dead.
"Deploy As Skirmishers," He Commanded. "G Troop To The Fight Of The
Trail, H Troop To The Left. Stop Anyone You See--Anyone. If He Tries
To Escape, Cry 'Halt!' Twice And Then Fire--To Kill. Forward! Gallop!
March! Toward The Post."
"No!" Shouted Colonel Patten. "He Went Toward Kiowa."
Crosby Replied In The Same Dead Voice: "He Doubled After He Left You,
Colonel. He Has Gone To The Post."
Colonel Patten Struggled From The Supporting Arms That Held Him And
Leaned Eagerly Forward. "You Know Him, Then?" He Demanded.
"Yes," Cried Crosby, "God Help Him! Spread Out There, You, In Open
Order--And Ride Like Hell!"
Just Before The Officers' Club Closed For The Night Lieutenant Ranson
Came In And, Seating Himself At The Piano, Picked Out "The Queen Of
The Philippine Islands" With One Finger. Major Stickney And Others
Who Were Playing Bridge Were Considerably Annoyed. Ranson Then
Demanded That Everyone Present Should Drink His Health In Champagne
For The Reason That It Was His Birthday And That He Was Glad He Was
Alive, And Wished Everyone Else To Feel The Same Way About It. "Or,
For Any Other Reason Why," He Added Generously. This Frontal Attack
Upon The Whist-Players Upset The Game Entirely, And Ranson, Enthroned
Upon The Piano-Stool, Addressed The Room. He Held Up A Buckskin
Tobacco-Bag Decorated With Beads.
Part 3 Title 1 (Ranson's Folly) Pg 24
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