Norton, Andre - Novel 15 by Stand to Horse (v1.0) Read Free Book Online Page A

have scattered and
must pass this way where the true rancheria is, where the women and children
and the old ones wait for the victors to return."
                   "Can you find the rancheria?"
Gilmore's face was boyishly eager as he looked at the palm space of marks,
which might mean a face-saving victory for the army and a real defeat for the
always too successful Apaches.
                   A faint frown appeared between Velasco's heavy
brows. He conned the lines a second time.
                   "Lieutenant, if a large
body of men march to this place, then they shall betray their coming. A
small party could slip up through the canyons in surprise. Also if we all leave
this trail, they will suspect and come back to see why we go-"
                   Gilmore pulled at his lower lip. Then he
looked at the Sergeant and Tuttle.
                   "You know this country and the Apache.
Have we a chance to get to the rancheria unsuspected?"
                   Tuttle's jaws moved rhythmically on his
tobacco cud, and his eyes narrowed. "Guess not, if we go stampin' in like
a herd of buffalo bulls. They'd have us marked in a half-hour —maybe
less—"
                   "We could split up." Herndon's voice
was colorless as if he did not want to push his suggestion too much.
                   Gilmore made up his mind. ''All
right. It's too good a chance to lose. If we can knock out just one
rancheria, we'll be striking back enough to hurt. Herndon, you know this
country better than I do. You and Velasco pick your men and take your own
trail. I'll march on with the rest of the detachment along the trail we've been
following. We'll play their game and you play ours. Tuttle—?"
                   The Mountain Man arose from his leaning
position against the wall. ''Guess I'd better go 'long with the boys here.
Yo've got Belmore 'n Watkins, 'n they know their business. Jus' don't ride too
far into the hills. Might let yore-self git a bit disgusted with the whole
business 'bout noontime tomorrow 'n start moseyin' back, slow-like." His
eyes twinkled and Gilmore laughed. Then the Lieutenant spoke to Herndon.
                   "We'll pray luck rides with you,
Sergeant. I'm likely to be broke if this play turns out to be a foolish one
after all."
                   Herndon saluted, and Ritchie had barely time
to get out of his way before he came out, brushing shoulders with the boy. His
glance flickered over Ritchie's eager face; there was a faint frown between his
eyes.
                   Had it been Tuttle, Ritchie would have dared
to ask, but now he hesitated and Herndon started away. The Sergeant had taken a
step or two before he paused, looked over his shoulder, and said curtly,
"Come on!"
                   Ritchie followed so closely on his heels that
he almost bumped into his superior's back when Herndon stopped short a second
time to watch the men making camp.
                  “You're only a recruit!" The words might
have been fired from a carbine.
                   Ritchie blinked. "Yes—yes,
sir." He looked down at the tips of his boots. This was it—the end
of any wild hopes he might have been nursing for the past five minutes.
                   “We won't have time to urge on any
stragglers—"
                   Ritchie clamped teeth on tongue. Out of his
past experience he knew that when authority made explanations instead of giving
an out-and-out refusal, "no" sometimes became "yes" if the
speaker was allowed to argue himself to that point without interruption.
                   "You know nothing about the
mountains—"
                   "No, sir," he ventured to agree in a
whisper.
                   "It would be utter folly to accept you as
a volunteer—"
                   Ritchie struggled to control the corners of
his