“I don’t wonder that he did!” said Nick, as he and Herbert also hurried to his relief.
They were hardly at his side and stooping over him, when he opened his eyes with a wan smile, and said faintly:
“It seems to have been a little too much for me, boys.”
But he quickly rallied and assumed the sitting position.
“I had just made up my mind to give the spider a flirt with my hat,” he said, “but the tarantula is so quick, I knew it would get in its work before I could brush it off. If I had struck at it with my hat when I first saw it there would have been an even chance, but I felt as though my arms were made of iron, and I was like a man with the nightmare, who cannot force his limbs to move. That was a good shot of yours, Baker.”
“I’m rather proud of it,” replied Lattin, settling back on his blanket, “and I thought it must come to that from the first, but I was so afraid of missing, that I put it off to the last second. If I had failed, the report would have started it into bitin’ you before I could give it a second shot.”
“I wonder whether there are any more of them around,” said Herbert, glancing furtively about.
“That’s what has troubled me,” added Nick.
“I don’t think any more of them will bother us,” remarked Strubell, quick to recover from his fright; “we must expect these little annoyances in this part of the world.”
“Yes,” observed Lattin, “when you find such a fine climate as we have, and everything else just right to make you the happiest chap in the United States, which means the happiest in the world, you oughter be willing to pay for it.”
“Well,” said Nick, who, now that the oppressive burden was lifted, could smile at the conceits of his friends, “when we come to add the sum total, it will be found pretty much the same the world over. It seems to me, after the fright we have all had, that none of us will be able to sleep.”
“What time is it?” asked Strubell. Nick looked at his watch, and replied that it was near eleven o’clock.
The Texan gathered the folds of his blanket around him, turned on his side, and within five minutes was asleep. The youths were amazed, but, as Lattin remarked, it was all easy enough when you became used to it.
It was the place of Herbert to watch over the camp from eleven until one o’clock, at which hour Nick would take his turn, Lattin and Strubell following in turn. The former willingly kept company with the boys while they discussed the startling occurrence early in the evening. By and by, however, the Texan became drowsy, and, bidding his young friends good-night, he too gathered his thick blanket about his muscular form, and joined his comrade in the land of dreams.
When Herbert took out his handsome watch to wind it, he leaned forward, so that the light from the fire fell upon its face. It happened that both hands were exactly together at the figure twelve, so that it was midnight and his duty was half over.
He looked round at the impressive scene. The fire was burning cheerily, though with the help of their thick, serviceable blankets the warmth was not needed. The horses were lying down, or cropping the grass, which was not very abundant in the immediate vicinity, and were too far off in the gloom to be seen. Each of his friends was so swathed that he resembled a log of wood when viewed from a short distance. The feet of all were turned toward the blaze, that being the general rule when sleeping in camp. The saddles, rifles, and extra luggage were loosely piled at one side, and Herbert, who was always inclined to be pressed down by his responsibility at such a time, could not help reflecting how completely a party of Indians or outlaws could place the hunters at their mercy by a sudden dash from the gloom.
But that kind of danger was not thought of by either of the Texans, who were not riding though this section for the first time.
It was only a few minutes later that Herbert heard one of the horses emit a slight whinny, as if something had disturbed him. The youth peered in the direction whence it came, but there was no moon and he discerned nothing.
“I wonder what it is,” he said, pressing his Winchester to make sure it was actually within his grasp; “it may be another tarantula, a rattlesnake, a bear, or some other wild animal or wild person trying to steal into camp without alarming us.”
One of the other ponies snuffed the air, the noise being as distinct in the stillness as was the sound of his watch when he wound it.
Herbert would not have been blamed had he awakened Strubell or Lattin, but he decided to wait before doing so. There was barely a possibility of peril from Indians or white men, and he considered himself able to meet any other kind.
The air, that had been oppressively still, was stirred by a breath which brought to him a peculiar sound. It lasted only a moment, and resembled the faint tapping of myriads of hammers on the earth – so numerous indeed that he suspected its meaning.
Applying his ear to the ground, he caught it with greater distinctness. It was as he supposed: an immense number of cattle were galloping over the plain, beyond the hills. They might be on their way to water or had been startled by some trivial cause, which often stampedes a drove that numbers thousands.
“Now if I find they are coming this way,” thought the youth, “I will wake Strubell. They wouldn’t be likely to enter the hills and run over this fire, but they might make trouble for our ponies.”
At intervals of a few minutes he pressed his ear to the earth as before, and listened closely. The second time he did so he was certain the peculiar sounds were more distinct; but, waiting a brief while, he tried it again, and concluded they were neither louder nor fainter.
“They can’t be standing still,” was his logical conclusion, “and must soon come nearer or go further off.”
Only a few minutes were required to settle the question: the cattle were receding, and doing so with such rapidity, that, much sooner than would have been suspected, the sounds had died out altogether.
CHAPTER VII.
AN INTRUDER IN CAMP
THE minutes pass slowly at such times, and, though Herbert’s duty lasted only two hours, they seemed double the length of that period during the day, or when his companions were awake.
The listening ear caught no further sounds of the multitudinous feet, and he dismissed the matter from his mind. The still air now and then was moved by what seemed a slight breeze, or eddy of wind, but it was barely sufficient to stir the blaze. Once he heard the report of a gun, startlingly distinct, though he knew it might have been fired fully a mile away.
“We are not the only people in this part of the world,” he mused, giving expression to his reveries; “and that shot may have ended the life of some person.”
It was a disturbing thought, and, as if to drive off the oppressiveness that was weighing him down, he rose to his feet and threw more sticks on the flames. His watch showed that it was only half-past twelve. He held the time-piece to his ear, suspecting that it had stopped running; but the familiar ticking was audible, and a glance at the tiny second-hand showed that it was really moving, though it never seemed to creep so tardily around the little circle.
Then he watched the indicator as it marked its course, and resorted to the many artifices that occur to those who find time dragging wearily on their hands. No hour ever seemed longer than was required for the watch to show that a fourth of that time had passed forever.
“But it will be worse for Nick,” he concluded; “I think his task more wearisome than mine. We have all to take our share, however, as I suppose everyone must in the good and bad of life.”
Herbert waited till the full time was up, and several minutes over, when he stepped to where Nick was lying, and gently shook his shoulder. He awoke readily, prepared to act his part as sentinel for the next two hours.
The elder told his friend what had occurred, adding that he discovered nothing else to disturb him. Then bidding him good-night, he wrapped himself in his own blanket and lay down with his feet toward the fire, falling