the gallery opened suddenly and Trunk-Strap Kelly entered. Kelly and Lanky were standing guard at the front of the house. Trunk-Strap said, “Lance, Lanky wants to see you. There’s a Yaquente outside making some sort of palaver. This Injun’s got the skin of a freshly killed rattler for a hatband on his sombrero—and the skin’s got feathers on it.”
Lance hurried outside. In the dim starlight beyond the sandbag barricade he saw Lanky conversing with Huareztjio. Lance leaped the barricade and approached. “What is it, Lanky? Howdy, Horatio.”
Huareztjio’s white teeth showed in a grin. “I’m t’ink fight weeth you, senor. Fletcher, him
“Fletcher is damned bad,” Lance said grimly.
“Here’s the setup, Lance,” Lanky explained. “We’re getting a break. Huareztjio and his gang confronted Fletcher with that phony snake and asked questions. Fletcher tried to talk himself out of the fix but he didn’t convince all the Yaquentes by a long shot. Huareztjio and some of his buddies have come to fight for us if we’ll let ’em. They’re spoiling for a fight, anyhow——”
“This isn’t some sort of trick?” Lance asked sharply.
“I don’t reckon so. You saved Huareztjio from a beating one time and you showed him how Fletcher was pulling the wool over the eyes of the tribe. He and the cooler heads from his village want to show their gratitude. They’ve brought their guns and ca’tridges. Lance, we’re in luck. They’re fighting fools.”
“How many men can Horatio produce?”
“He claims to have seventy-five, but I ain’t seen one yet. Didn’t see Huareztjio until he was almost on top of me.”
“Ask him if he knows how big a force Fletcher has.”
Lanky put the question to Huareztjio. The Yaquente made quick reply. Lanky turned back to Lance. “He says Fletcher has gathered around a hundred and fifty men—Yaquentes and Apaches and breeds of various descriptions. Some of ’em are carrying pretty old guns too. Only the Yaquentes have modern arms.”
Lance frowned. “And will Horatio and his men fight against Indians of his own tribe?”
Lanky nodded. “A lot of the tribe wouldn’t have anything to do with either side. The Yaquentes who went with Fletcher are just young bucks with no sense, Huareztjio claims. Huareztjio and his pals are just spoiling to teach the young bucks a lesson, and—like I say, after all, fighting is a Yaquente’s whole life. Shall we take him up on the offer?”
“I figure we’d be fools not to. But where are these seventy-five men he claims he has with him?”
Lanky spoke to Huareztjio. The Indian gave a quick, short call. Instantly from all sides white-clad forms, carrying guns, came leaping from the brush. In a moment they were gathered all around Lance and Lanky. Lanky gasped with surprise, then spoke quick words to Huareztjio.
“My gosh!” Lance exclaimed. “We were surrounded and didn’t know it. Lanky, I reckon it would be a good idea to put a couple of these Yaquentes on guard.”
“Sufferin’ sheep thieves!” Lanky said. “What do you think I just told Huareztjio? I got that idea as quick as you. Better take these hombres inside, Lance, and throw some coffee and food into ’em. You’ll make yourself solid. Trunk-Strap can stay out here with a couple of Yaquentes. I’ll go along to make talk if anything comes up.”
They herded the Yaquentes into the house, much to the surprise of those inside. Lance explained briefly, “Horatio and his friends have come to fight for us. Our luck’s not all bad.” He told Katherine he could use some help fixing coffee and food for the Indians. The girl rose to go to the kitchen.
A sudden clamor lifted among the Yaquentes. They were all staring at Katherine and talking excitedly. Lanky listened, then started to laugh. “It’s Miss Gregory’s yellow hair that gets ’em,” Lanky exclaimed. “There’s some old legend in their tribe about a white maiden with yellow hair coming to lead them to a great victory someday.”
Katherine smiled up at the Indians crowded around her. More talking followed and the flash of even white teeth. Huareztjio grinned and pointed to Katherine, then said to Lance, “Your woman?”
Lance flushed and stood tongue-tied. Katherine smiled. “His woman”—pointing to herself and then Lance.
“My woman,” Lance answered Huareztjio. The Indians commenced to talk louder. They were fast making themselves at home.
“If I’m your woman,” Katherine told Lance, “you can prove it by coming with me to the kitchen. There’s food and coffee to fix.”
By the time they returned, bearing steaming pots and dishes, the big room in the ranch house was in an uproar of excitement. Oscar had brought out his stock of lemon drops and passed them around. Lanky laughed. “Those Yaquentes sure go for leming drops.”
“Never made so many converts so fast in my life.” Oscar chuckled. “Maybe this is the way to wean ’em from that peyote habit.”
“One thing’s certain,” Lanky said. “We’re solid with these Yaquentes now. They’ll fight for us until they drop.”
About two o’clock in the morning Lance ordered all the lamps extinguished, saying, “Fletcher may not wait until dawn to attack.” A number of the Yaquentes spoke some Spanish and a smattering of En glish. These Lance delegated to key positions subordinate to white men. At the back of the house Lockwood and Cal Braun commanded five Yaquentes; on the east end of the building five more Yaquentes waited, with Trunk-Strap and Tom Piper near slightly opened windows; at the west end Hub Owen and Luke Homer performed a similar job. Ranged along the front gallery, shielded behind the sandbag barricade, were Lance, Jones, Lanky, Oscar and Huareztjio with the remainder of the Yaquentes. It was at the front of the building Lance expected the attack to strike, as the brush and trees grew much closer in that direction. Lance had asked Katherine to stay within, out of gun range, and act as a messenger working between the gallery and other sections of the house.
The minutes dragged slowly for the men awaiting the attack. They talked in hushed voices, smoked cigarettes or pipes, always shielding the glow of the burning tobacco from any enemy who might be concealed in the brush beyond the house. Three o’clock came, and then three-thirty. Huareztjio had three spies out in the brush. Now these three returned with word that the thickets were alive with men. Lance and his companions drew deep breaths and waited, their fingers itching to pull triggers.
Time passed. It wasn’t more than an hour to dawn now. False dawn had already come and faded in the east, but along the distant horizon a faint streak of silvery gray, almost like a mist, was commencing to rise. Now, Lance noticed, the usual calling of night birds was missing from the vicinity of the house. He spoke, low voiced, to the professor crouched at his side behind the sandbags. “It can’t be much longer now.”
“Quite so, quite,” Jones replied calmly. “Terrific wear on nerves, though, what? Strong desire—for action, y’understand.”
“You’ll get your fill of action,” Lance stated grimly.
A few feet away Oscar crunched lemon drops. He wasn’t talking. Lanky spoke to Huareztjio. Certain guttural words of Yaquente passed swiftly along the gallery. Lance wondered if Fletcher would send somebody to learn if the Three-Cross had decided to surrender or fight. Fifteen minutes more brought the dawn nearer.
XXV The Battle at Three-Cross
The attack came with savage suddenness! The brush on four sides of the house erupted violently with orange fire. Shattering explosions rent the early-morning air. As Lance had expected, the bulk of the attack was concentrated at the front. Bullets thudded into the adobe house walls and ripped into sandbags. Lance caught one low, suppressed moan; that was the only sound uttered. True to Lance’s instructions, the men were holding their fire, awaiting the attackers’ closer approach. A second furious volley came from points nearer the front of the house.
Lance yelled as loud as he could, “Let ’em have it!”
Four sides of the building suddenly roared with gunfire. Cries of pain rose from the neighboring brush. Lance yelled exultantly: “We scored that time, fellers!” Rifles and six-shooters cracked madly. The battle was on. Lance sent another shot crashing from his gun. On both sides men were firing and reloading as fast as possible. From time
