Alden the Pony Express rider : $b or, Racing for life — John Shaqi
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
“A few minutes before I fired; I think I left him asleep near the other
wheel of the wagon where I had been standing. Fact is, I know he was
asleep.”
“And he warn’t thar when ye come back, which was powerful soon
afterward?”
“I didn’t think of Jethro, but I must have seen him if he had stayed
where he was.”
“What do _ye_ think become of him?”
“He must have run away; I never saw a person so scared as he when he
learned we were likely to be attacked by Indians. I am afraid he has
scampered off over the prairie.”
“Couldn’t have done that very well without some one seeing him; more’n
likely he crawled in among the hosses and oxen where he thought he’d be
safer. Hark!”
From the interior of the wagon near which they were standing sounded
the heavy snoring of some person.
“I’ll bet ye that’s him,” chuckled Shagbark.
“He isn’t the only one that puts on the loud pedal when he sleeps.”
Shagbark stepped on the tongue of the vehicle and peered inside. It was
too dark to see anything. In fact, two other men were breathing less
stertorously, but he located the point from which the chief racket
came. Feeling about with his hand, he gripped the shoulder of the
sleeper, and bracing himself with one foot against the front board, he
drew out the elongated form of the offender.
CHAPTER VIII
THE ATTACK
It looked to Alden Payne as if Jethro was eight feet long, when the
guide was dragging him out of the front of the wagon by the nape of
the neck. Like many persons, he was slow to regain consciousness, and
was not fully awake until he was stood upon his feet. Even then he
staggered uncertainly and was bewildered by the situation.
“What’s de matter?” he mumbled, spreading his feet apart and steadying
himself.
“Whar’s your gun?” demanded Shagbark.
“In de wagon; I didn’t feel wery well and went in dere to lay down.”
“Get your gun and help shoot Injins,” was the startling order.
The flurry awoke the women in the Conestoga, and the excitement roused
the whole camp. Dark forms appeared from the interior of the wagons,
and hearing the voice of the guide, most of them hurried to him to
learn what they were to do.
Shagbark quickly explained the situation. The emigrants were about to
be attacked, for there could be no doubt that their enemies were near
at hand. Every man was needed, for much depended upon the vigor of the
defense. Dividing the force so as to guard every point, the hunter
cautioned the defenders to shield themselves as best they could, and to
fire on the instant the least chance offered to do so with effect.
Once more the result of his training showed. The oxen and horses were
in the middle of the open space, as far beyond danger as was possible;
the women obeyed orders by keeping themselves and children behind the
bullet-proof sides of the Conestogas. No more sleep for the mothers
so long as the peril threatened. They listened, peered out and put up
their prayers to heaven.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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