George in Camp; or, Life on the PlainsCastlemon, Harry
General
George in Camp; or, Life on the Plains
Castlemon, Harry
Children's stories; Frontier and pioneer life -- Juvenile fiction; West (U.S.) -- Juvenile fiction
“They can’t follow us in the dark, for they have no means of knowing
which trail we have taken. Their only chance is to wait until morning
and make inquiries among the settlers.”
“That is just what they will do,” said Ned, “and everybody will tell
them all about us. The neighbors are down on me because I am so far
above them.”
“But we must keep out of sight of the neighbors,” said George, who did
not think it best to notice his cousin’s last remark, “and then they
can’t tell anything about us. The people who live along the river trail
are strangers to us, so we’ll go that way. It is the safest.”
George kept his horse in a rapid walk until he was out of sight of the
rancho, and then he put him to the top of his speed. Although he had no
fear of being overtaken, he was very anxious to keep out of sight of the
ranchemen, for they carried revolvers and would not hesitate to use them
if they found that Ned could not be captured in any other way. George
was resolved to stand by his cousin, no matter how much risk he might
run by so doing; but perhaps he would not have been so determined on
this point if he had known what was transpiring at the rancho he had
just left.
In spite of the care he had taken to enter and leave the house without
Philip’s knowledge, that crafty individual knew all about it. As it
happened, he was standing on the porch when George first made his
appearance. He recognised the boy at once, and was not a little
surprised to see him. He knew, and so did Uncle John, that George had
succeeded in eluding the raiders when they made the descent upon his
camp, and that he was probably on his way home; but Philip did not
expect him to get there, for, as we shall presently see, arrangements
had been made to intercept him. When Philip saw him coming, he said
something angry in Spanish, and retreated into a dark doorway, so that
George could not see him.
“I never expected to put eyes on him again on this side of the river,”
said the Mexican, to himself; “but here he has gone and run the
blockade, and there is no telling when we can get another chance at him.
Where are those fellows who ought to have been watching the trail? I
wonder if he has heard any news! He acts as though he wanted to get into
the house without being seen.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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