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Updated: May 12, 2025
His experience in the Civil War and in Texas rendered him an adept at this business, but, on the other hand, it will be seen that the precautions of the Comanche himself could be executed in a twinkling. "Confound the luck!" Captain Shirril had almost reached the decisive point, when the head of the redskin vanished!
Captain Shirril was probably right in supposing they believed that he and his nephew were with the rest of the cowboys, watching the herd five miles away. Finding the couple in the cabin, they could not resist the temptation to bring down the head of the household, after which they must have supposed the rest would be an easy task.
"De willian!" muttered Dinah, "and dat's in my abpartment too " "Sh!" whispered her mistress, touching her arm, "he can't do any harm, and he must not hear us." Had Mrs. Shirril given permission, the servant would have hurried up the ladder and taken the fellow to task, without a moment's delay or hesitation. But the Comanche was better prepared for his work than they suspected.
"That is not the invariable rule with Indians," was the truthful remark of Mrs. Shirril. "It makes little difference to them whether the innocent or guilty suffer." "But," said the husband, "the prime object of the redskins is cattle, with perhaps horses thrown in.
Without any appearance of alarm in his manner Captain Shirril slipped down from his saddle, his nephew being but a few seconds behind him, and the two coolly prepared to make a stand against the attack of the Comanches. Captain Shirril and his nephew placed their ponies beside each other, with a space of only a few feet intervening.
While the steeds sped back and forth, the riders lolled here and there on their backs, as though it was impossible for them to lose their balance. Trying as were the circumstances, Captain Shirril could not help admiring the equestrian exhibition, which could not have been excelled. But he quickly proved that he meant business of the most serious kind.
"Have you a horse with you?" asked Captain Shirril, crowding forward, impatient to improve the precious moments. "Yes; follow me." The prisoner had been deprived of all his weapons, and was suffering from the severe hurts received, but he roused himself and moved forward at a brisk walk, Avon taking the lead, with the young Indian close behind him and the captain at his heels.
The question of life and death must be answered before the rising of the morrow's sun. When Captain Shirril told his wife that she and the servant were likely to find something to engage their attention above stairs, he spoke more in jest than earnest, but the remark served to prove the adage that many a truth is spoken at such times.
"Then I shall go," he quietly replied, compressing his lips as his fine eyes kindled. "There is hope, if you can reach the bush, but the rub will be to do that." "They grow close to the house, and the Comanches will not be looking for any attempt of that kind." "Is it not best to wait until later?" asked Mrs. Shirril.
It may seem incredible, but there is no reason to doubt the fact that, at the moment Captain Shirril began cautiously reaching upward with his weapon, the youth heard one of the Comanches slip down from the back of his mustang and approach the door.
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