Harry Castlemon - George at the Wheel

Fletcher and his men spent two more nights in this way, and to George's intense disgust, they came back full handed each time. He had the opportunity to look at the cattle before they were sent into the interior, and had the satisfaction of seeing that none of them bore his brand.

On the fifth morning of his captivity, George encountered Springer on the verandah. He had sought an interview with him every day, but Springer had taken good care to keep out of his way, because he knew that he could not assist him in his efforts to escape without running the risk of bringing himself into trouble with the boss cattle-thief. On this particular morning, however, he purposely intercepted the boy while the latter was taking his usual walk around the court-yard. He had something of importance to say to him.

"Wal, George, you ain't gone yet, have you?" said Springer, after he had looked all around to make sure that there was no one within ear-shot.

"No, but I haven't been wasting any time," was the reply. "I have learned that I can go in and out of the rancho whenever I please, and I have made a friend of Silk Stocking."

"Who's that?" inquired Springer.

"That is the name of the horse you raiders brought away with you on the night you made the attack on our rancho," replied George. "I have fed him crackers every day until he has learned to know me, and will let me catch him any where. I got on his back last night, and if I had been certain that the road was clear, you wouldn't have seen me here this morning. I would have made a bold dash for home and freedom."

"It's just as well that you didn't try it," said Springer, hastily, "kase the road wasn't cl'ar. You might have run plump into Fletcher's gang afore you knowed it. Now I'll tell you what's a fact: I can't help you none only by giving you good advice, an' I am risking my life by doin' that. The road will be clear to-night, an' if you are bound to start for the other side of the Rio, you'd best do it afore you see the sun rise agin. Fletcher aint goin' on no more raids till next full moon, but he's goin' to start with the regiment, bright an' 'arly to-morrow morning, for our old camp at Queretaro; an' I'll just tell you what's a fact, if you ever let yourself be took so far into the country as that, it will be a long time afore you see Texas agin. Fletcher don't mean no harm to you, but thar's fightin' goin' on down thar, an' I don't know what may happen to us."

"I am glad you told me," said George. "I'll be off this very night. Good-by, Springer. Don't go on any more cattle raids, will you?"

"I aint likely to go on any more for a while," said Springer. "I shall be laid up for another month at least."

He looked all around the court-yard to make sure that there was no one watching him, and then cordially shook the hand that George extended toward him.

"If you had been engaged in some honest business that night you would not have received those wounds," said the boy. "Now, when you get well, cut loose from such fellows as these with whom you are now associating, and turn over a new leaf. Good-by!"

"Good-by, an' good luck to you," said Springer, heartily.

George walked slowly across the court-yard, passed out of the gate and went toward the place where the horses were feeding. Silk Stocking was cropping the grass a little apart from the others – he seemed to be a high-toned horse, and to look upon himself as something better than the rest of the drove – and when George whistled to him he promptly raised his head and came up to receive the piece of cracker which the boy had taken care to put into his pocket that morning.

"I don't wonder that those men were so determined to recover possession of you, old fellow," said George, as he ran his fingers through the animal's long white mane. "You are a regular pet and as gentle as you are handsome. Now don't go back on me when I come out to catch you to-night, and I will see that you find your way back into the hands of your lawful master."

George did not dare spend a great while in Silk Stocking's company, for fear that some of the guerrillas might see him and suspect something; so he walked slowly toward the rancho, after seeing him eat the cracker, and the horse began cropping the grass again.

The hours always pass away slowly when one is impatient, and this was the longest and gloomiest day of George's captivity. He spent it, as the most of the guerrillas spent all their unemployed moments, lying at his ease on his blanket; but to a boy of George's active habits this was anything but an agreeable way of killing time. He found an opportunity during the day to secure his lasso, which he tied around his waist, buttoning his buckskin coat over it so that it was concealed from view.

George went to bed at dark, but of course he did not go to sleep. For long hours he rolled uneasily about on his blanket, alternating between hope and fear, and waiting impatiently for the guerrillas to retire to their rooms; but there seemed to be more than the usual number of wakeful and talkative ones among them, and it was almost midnight before silence settled down over the rancho. Then he sat up on his blanket and looked about him.

During the time that George had been a prisoner among the guerrillas, he had made it a point to leave the rancho two or three times during the night, his object being to accustom his guards, if he had any, to seeing him go and come at all hours. The fact that no one had ever attempted to interfere with him in any way, encouraged the belief that no one ever would interfere with him; but somehow he felt a strange sinking at his heart as he arose from his blanket and proceeded to arrange it, so that one to have taken a casual glance at it, would have supposed that it still concealed a human figure.

"I can't imagine what is the matter with me," said George, to himself, as he moved to the door with noiseless footsteps, and gazed about the silent and deserted court-yard. "I never have been stopped while passing through that gate, and I don't see why I should stand so much in fear of being stopped to-night. Perhaps it is because I know that if I don't escape the first time trying, I never shall. Yes, that must be it. Well, I must make the attempt successful."

So saying, George stepped boldly out of the door, and after assuring himself that his lasso was securely fastened about his waist, he thrust his hands into his pockets and walked along with the greatest deliberation, as he always did when taking his airings about the court-yard. But he did not go straight toward the archway that formed the gate. He drew up behind the wall and peeped cautiously around the corner of it. As he did so he drew a long breath and his courage gave away altogether. There was a sentinel at the opposite end of the archway. He was leaning in an easy attitude against the wall, his feet crossed and his hands clasped at a "parade rest" over the muzzle of his carbine. His sombrero was pushed on the back of his head, and he was gazing in a dreamy sort of way toward the hills that bounded the western end of the valley.

The officer in command of the guerrillas (George did not know who he was, for since he had been at the rancho he had heard orders given by nobody except Fletcher), had stationed the sentry at the gate to keep his men from straying away to visit some of the neighboring haciendas. He wanted them all there when he was ready to begin the march for Queretaro in the morning, and the measures he had taken to secure their presence had shut up George's only avenue of escape.

So thought the prisoner, as he took another look at the sentinel and walked back toward his quarters. He had scarcely moved away from the wall when a loud yawn broke the stillness, and a moment later the door which opened into the room next to the one he occupied as a sleeping-apartment, was filled by a tall figure, who stretched his arms and rubbed his eyes vigorously. It was Fletcher. George was really alarmed by this unexpected encounter, but the cattle-thief's first words proved that he did not suspect anything.