An outlaw's pledge; or, The raid on the old stockade

As they heard it, three men who, rolled in their army blankets, were sleeping in the protecting shadow of a huge boulder, rose to their elbows and peered into the darkness, at the same time whipping out their "Colts" with their free hands.

But only the silence of the night, seeming more intense as the echo of the strident cry died away, greeted them.

"That must have been a signal," breathed one of the trio, after several minutes of listening.

"If it was a signal, it would have been answered," rejoined a companion.

"Sure it would," asserted the third member of the party.

"Then what was it?" demanded the first.

"May have been a snake, or a mountain lion," suggested the man who had doubted the startling cry being a signal.

"Snake? Mountain lion?" repeated the other, in disgust. "Say, you'd better go back to the recruits till you learn the difference between a human voice and an animal's cry."

The three men were members of the Mounted Scouts, out on patrol duty from their station at Fort Griswold.

Two of them had been in the service three years, while the other was on his first detail, having only just been promoted from the band of recruits at the Fort.

Consequently, the sneering allusion to his inexperience cut deep, and he was about to retort fiercely, when the third scout prevented.

"Jennings is right, Scotty. It was a man's voice uttered that cry," he whispered.

"Then what does it mean?" persisted the youngster.

"Just keep yer tongue in yer head and yer eyes and ears open, and we may find out," grunted Jennings.

This reply had the intended result of effectually silencing the recruit, and, with every sense alert, the three men awaited some sound that would explain the mysterious signal.

Unlike most details of mounted scouts that patrolled together, there was no affection, bred by perils and dangers shared, between the men. Indeed, there was not even good feeling. The veterans, Jennings and Shaw, had long been rivals for the honor of being the best shot at the Fort, and both resented being sent out with a "rookie."

The personnel of the patrol, however, had been arranged by Colonel Edwards, commandant of the Fort, with a purpose.

So many had become the raids and robberies that the officers began to suspect connivance between the outlaws and some of the scouts, and the names of Jennings and Shaw had been linked with these rumors.

Knowing the rivalry existing between them, the colonel had decided to send them out together, confident that each would be only too willing to report any suspicious actions of the other, and, to prevent such an anomaly as an alliance in wrong doing, he had added the recruit, instructing each to report in detail all that his companions did.

The surprise of being awakened from his sleep had driven the memory of these orders from the youngster's mind. But as the monotony of the watch grew, they recurred to him.

"I'll bet that was a signal for either Jennings or Shaw," he said to himself, "and whichever it is, is afraid to answer because I'm here. I'll have to keep my head about me all right, all right."

But the recruit's suspicions did his fellow members of the Mounted Scouts injustice--as he was soon to learn.

With a suddenness almost as startling as the mysterious signal, came the thumpety-thump of a stone as, dislodged from its resting place, it bounded down the mountainside.

"That's above us," breathed Jennings, leaping to his feet and feeling his way cautiously to the edge of the boulder, whence he strove to penetrate the inky darkness that enveloped crags and trees alike.

As their companion jumped to his feet, Shaw and Scotty did likewise, following him as he crept along the rock.

"What do you make of it?" queried the veteran of his fellow.

"Somebody's discovered us and is either trying to get away or to warn others," asserted Jennings, with positiveness.

"But how could any one see us in the shadow of the boulder?" demanded Scotty, resenting the indifference of his companions to his presence.

"Men who can travel these hills in the night, don't have to see a man to know he's around, they can smell him," returned Shaw.

"Say, you fellows might as well cut this jollying out right now," flashed the youngster. "I'm not going to stand for it any longer--either you'll treat me decently or I'll mix it up with fists or guns, whichever you like. Smell a man, rats!"

"Now don't get het up, rookie," rejoined Jennings. "Shaw's right. A good woodsman or an Injun can scent a man as easy as you can a grizzly. Besides, if they didn't scent us, they could the horses."

"Queer we ain't heard a whimper from the cayuses," exclaimed Shaw, as his comrade's mention of their mounts recalled their existence. "My old Bonehead usually don't like these night surprises."

"You don't suppose whoever it was has stolen 'em?" suggested Scotty, to whose excited brain nothing seemed impossible.

"What, take three iron shod horses and me and Shaw not know it?" snorted Jennings. "It would be easier to have 'em run off with one of us."

"Just the same, I'm going down to see if they're all right," declared the recruit, moving away.

"Hold on. We'll go with you," whispered Shaw. "Being nervous, as they will, you may scare 'em--and we'd be in a pretty fix fifty miles from the Fort and no ponies."

And, placing the youngster between them, the veteran scouts crept cautiously down to the plateau, some fifteen yards from the boulder, where they had left the horses to feed on the sweet grass.

Already, the heavy darkness in the east was giving way to the grey-greens of dawn, enabling the three scouts to make out the outlines of the rocks and trees above them.

But, as they turned a crag whence they could get a glimpse of the plateau, they stopped in amazement.

Not a horse was to be seen!