nce. And, having exhausted
their ingenuity and robed themselves in this wise in all manner of
plunder, they set fire to the wrecked train, singing and dancing in
high glee as the flames rose crackling above the trees.
Bucks, with clenched hands, watched and prayed for the arrival of the
speeding relief train. The moments passed with leaden feet and the
train had many miles to come. The despatcher continued his encouraging
messages, but did not cease his words of caution, and, as the wreckage
burned, Bucks perceived the Indians were riding in great numbers up
the creek. Too late he realized what it meant. They were looking for
the ford and were about to cross to his side.
CHAPTER XI
He lost no time in sending a final word to the despatcher before he
started for safety, and his call was sounding when he ran back to the
key.
"Stanley's train has passed Chimney Butte," said the despatcher. "Soon
be with you."
Words over the wire never sounded better to the frightened boy than
those words.
"The Indians are crossing the creek," Bucks answered. "Am off for the
ranch."
He closed the circuit and ran out on the platform. The warriors had
found the ford and the horses of the head braves were already leading
a file across. Bucks threw one hurried look at them; then, summoning
his strength for an endurance run, he started, with the station
building between him and the enemy, for the ranch.
He had hardly got under way when, as he reached higher ground, he saw
to his consternation a party of Indians in the bottom land between him
and safety.
He was cut off. Hoping that he had not been seen, he threw himself
flat on the ground and, turning about, crawled, behind a slight ridge
that afforded concealment, stealthily back toward the station. The
Indians up the creek had crossed, but were riding away from the
station and toward the ranch, evidently bent on attacking it next. The
flames from the burning train rose high above the creek. There seemed
no place to escape to and Bucks, creeping through the sedge grass, got
back to his key and called the despatcher.
"Cut off from the ranch by a second party of Indians. Will wait here
for the train--where is it?"
A moment passed before the answer came. "Less than ten miles from you.
Passed Driftwood Station at ten-forty."
Bucks looked at his clock. Driftwood was ten miles west. The hands
stood at ten-forty-eight. Surely, he concluded, they will be here by
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