Alden the Pony Express rider : $b or, Racing for lifeEllis, Edward Sylvester
General
Alden the Pony Express rider : $b or, Racing for life
Ellis, Edward Sylvester
Pony express -- Juvenile fiction
Alden Payne was deeply interested in what he had been told. A crisis
threatened in which under heaven all depended upon the sagacity of
this veteran of the plains. The youth waited for him to explain his
intentions.
“Ye see now the sense of my making some of the men stand guard every
time we went into camp; they’ve been trained so they know how to do it;
ye’ve had to take yer turn with the rest of ’em.”
“And glad was I to do so; I hope you will use me to-night.”
“Which is ’zactly what I’m going to do; that’s all I’ve got to say now;
ride back to that thick-headed darky.”
“Shall I tell him what you have just said to me?”
“I hain’t any ’bjections; it’ll probably scare him half white, but ye
needn’t say anything to anybody else, ’cepting Fleming; tell him to
come up hyar for a little talk on bus’ness with me.”
Alden turned his mare about and galloped to where the leader of the
company was riding beside another man, and told him Shagbark wished
a few words with him. Fleming instantly moved forward, and was soon
engaged in earnest conversation with the guide.
“Wal, Al, did Shagbark ’spress sorrer fur the way he treated me?” asked
Jethro, as his friend joined him.
“Nothing of the kind; you may have noticed that I pointed my glasses
toward the prairie ahead?”
“Yas; I had my eye on you.”
“Well, some miles off is a large party of Indians on horseback; they
are keeping us in sight, but don’t think we know anything of them.”
“Gorrynation!” gasped Jethro; “you don’t say so; what am dey gwine to
do?”
“Quite likely they will attack our camp to-night.”
Jethro gasped again and nearly fell out of the saddle.
“W-w-what we gwine to do?” he stammered.
“Make the best fight we can; you can shoot pretty well, Jeth, and you
may have a chance to prove your marksmanship. Bear in mind, however,
that when a painted warrior raises his gun to shoot you, you must fire
before he does.”
Swallowing the lump in his throat, the colored lad faltered:
“You’s joking, Al; you don’t mean it suah.”
“Very well, if you prefer to look upon it as a joke, do so, but it is
likely to prove a serious one to you and all of us.”
“Why don’t Shagbark turn de teams round and hurry back to St. Joe as
fast as he kin, or to Fort Kearny or some place whar we has friends dat
will took care ob us?”
“We should make a fine show with our oxen dragging the heavy wagons;
all the Indians are well mounted and can come up with us whenever they
choose to do so.”
“Let de oxen and wagons stay where dey am.”
“We haven’t enough horses to carry half the women and children.”
“Can’t dey run?”
Alden was silent a moment as if considering the suggestion of the sable
youth. Finally he shook his head.
“It won’t do, Jeth; they wouldn’t have half a show; the Indians would
overtake the women and little ones before they could go more than a few
hundred yards. No; we must stand our ground like men, keep cool and put
up the best fight we can.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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