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Updated: June 2, 2025
Sez I, "not mutch we wont," and I made a powerful effort to get awa from her. "This is plade out," I sed, whereupon she jerkt me back into the seet. "Leggo my coat, you scandaluss female," I roared, when she set up the most unarthly yellin and hollerin you ever heerd.
"Yes, I saw them do it; but I could not render any assistance to the poor child, for I was lying close behind a rock at the time, with an arrow sticking between my shoulders, and a score o' them oily varmints a-shoutin', and yellin', and flourishing their spears in search o' me." "Tell us how it happened, Massan. Let's hear the story," chorused the men, as they closed round their comrade.
"Well, there isn't so much to tell," replied Yellin' Kid, his voice a bit lower, now that there was serious business afoot. "Snake an' I started there, to haze back th' steers as you; told us, Bud. But when we'd rounded up th' herd, drivin' 'em in from where a lot of 'em had strayed, we saw, right away, that th' count was short.
Bud and his chums thought he might have said it was serious from the start, as indeed it was. "What I picked you fellows out for," went on Snake, "is to take a sort of scurry out there and see who's doin' all this shootin'." He clipped letters off his words in his haste. "We're goin' out there an' see if we can take 'em in the rear, while Yellin' Kid holds their attention in front."
It was a sharp trick of Alf's, for he had found out that a photographer was thar from Carlton to go his limit on the tent, but lumpin' it in with the planks sorter upset the chap's calculations, an' he didn't have the look of a man that could figure quick. He shuck all over as he bid ten dollars, an' while the sheriff was yellin' 'Goin'! goin'! Alf stooped down an' felt of the canvas.
Last thing I knowed I wuz runnin' ahead on Shorty's left, loadin' my gun, an' tryin' to keep up with the Colonel's hoss. Next thing I knowed I wuz wakin' up at the foot of a black-oak. Everything was quiet around me, except the yellin' of two or three wounded men a little ways off. At first I thought a cannonball' d knocked my whole head off.
"Steady, everybody!" shouted Yellin' Kid and his strenuous voice, rumbling and echoing through the silent morning, seemed to calm them all. "Get down on your faces! Drop!" commanded the cowboy, while puffs of smoke, flashes of fire and nerve-racking reports told that the attack from ambush was in some force.
They could see he wasn't a Spaniard, although he had on a Spanish uniform. Several officers looked him over, and then a private of the Seventy-first Regiment saw him and yelled, "Good Lord, that's Flaherty." That man grew up in my district, and he was once the most patriotic American boy on the West Side. He couldn't see a flag without yellin' himself hoarse.
I swept my glance over the crowd, but did not see Snecker. "I'm in some hurry," I added. "Bill ain't here," said a man at the table nearest me. "Air you comin' from Morton?" "Nit. But I'm not yellin' this message." The rustler rose, and in a few long strides confronted me. "Word from Sampson!" I whispered, and the rustler stared. "I'm in his confidence. He's got to see Bill at once.
"But not Indians' signals," asserted Yellin' Kid. "Whose then?" Nort wanted to know, satisfied that he had not awakened the camp in vain. "They're rockets or some sort of fire works," went on Dick. "First I thought they were shooting stars, but I can see now that they aren't. They're sky rockets or Roman candles." "That's right," agreed Snake.
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