From the marsh beyond the creek came the
familiar croaking of the frogs; from the foothills in the cow-pasture
came the shrilling of the crickets. A coyote was yapping far down the
valley.
"It's all right, Mary," said I.
"Boss, Coon Dogs come, velly quick. I know."
Did he really know? What subtle instinct warned him of the approach of
danger? Who can answer such questions? It is a fact that the Coon Dogs
were on the road to our ranch, and that they arrived just one hour
later. We heard them yelling and shouting at the big gate. Then the
popping of pistols told us that the sign, clearly to be seen in the
moonlight, was being riddled with bullets.
"We must face the music," said Ajax grimly. "Come on!"
Mary lay back on the pillow, senseless. Passing through the sitting-
room, I reminded Ajax that my duck-gun, an eight-bore, could carry two
ounces of buck-shot about one hundred yards.
"We mustn't fight 'em with their own weapons," he answered curtly.
The popping ceased suddenly; silence succeeded.
"They're having their bad time, too," said Ajax. "They are hitching
their plugs to the fence.
Pages:
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302