Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Cowmen and Rustlers: A Story of the Wyoming Cattle Ranges by Edward Sylvester Ellis (the little red hen read aloud .txt) 📖
- Author: Edward Sylvester Ellis
Book online «Cowmen and Rustlers: A Story of the Wyoming Cattle Ranges by Edward Sylvester Ellis (the little red hen read aloud .txt) 📖». Author Edward Sylvester Ellis
Still Capt. Asbury expressed himself gratified at the result of his investigation. The weather was so cool that a moderate amount of the precious fluid would prevent suffering, and he decided that, dispensing with what ordinarily was used for cooking purposes, they could get along quite well for three days, and possibly longer.
The lower part of the flat building consisted of two parts, used respectively for the kitchen and the dining and sitting-room. There were four apartments above—one for the parents, one each for the son and daughter, and one for visitors. These, of course, would be held sacred for the members of the family, while the others found sleep, as opportunity presented, below stairs.
There were windows on all sides of the house; and the structure, while not strong, was, of course, bullet-proof.
Before all this was ascertained the rustlers showed themselves. But instead of appearing on the ridge, over which the cattlemen had ridden, half of them showed themselves on the other side, having circled around back of the stables.
A moment later the rest were observed on top of the ridge. Thus, with the exception of the broad level plain stretching in the direction of the Big Horn Mountains, it may be said that the ranch was surrounded by the rustlers, who held the stockmen at bay.
What would be the result? None could foresee.
Hawkridge drew Sterry aside and said, in a guarded undertone:
"There is only one thing to be feared."
"What is that?"
"It is easy for them to burn this building."
"Do you think they will do that, when they know a couple of women are inside?"
"It doesn't follow that there is any necessity of their being burned, nor indeed of any of us suffering from fire. When you touch off a barn the rats get out, and that's what we shall have to do."
"But they will give us a chance, first."
"Yes, a chance to surrender, and we might have done that without putting ourselves to all this trouble."
"And suppose we do surrender, after making the best fight we can—what are likely to be the terms offered?"
"They will treat the majority, including myself, as prisoners of war; but Capt. Asbury, and probably you, will be excepted—he because of the killing of Perkins last night, and you because you have disregarded the warning to leave the country when ordered to do so."
"All of which is mighty interesting to the captain and myself," remarked Sterry, with little evidence of fear; "but we will hope for better things."
CHAPTER XXV. — THE FLAG OF TRUCE.
In one important respect the combatants showed commendable discretion. Although there had been considerable firing on the part of the rustlers, none of the cattlemen were hurt. It is not unlikely that the bullets were intended to frighten them, since such excellent marksmen otherwise could not have discharged their weapons without execution.
Capt. Asbury and his men had not returned a shot. When their enemies appeared on more than one side of the building it would have been easy to pick off several without risk to those sheltered within the house, but he gave orders that nothing of that sort should be done.
The bitterness between the parties was already intense. There were hot-heads on both sides eager to open the lamentable conflict, but were it done, there was no saying where it would end. It was wise, therefore, that the leaders forbore from active hostilities at this early stage of the business.
From the front of the structure the plain stretched in the direction of the Big Horn Mountains. It was across this that Jennie Whitney descried, two days before, the return of her friends with the body of her father. She now ascended to the second story and peered long and frequently in the same direction, in the hope of catching sight of her brother.
Meanwhile Capt. Asbury disposed of the members of his party as best he could. They needed no instructions from him to avoid in every way possible annoying the ladies, who were considerate and kind.
About midday, excitement was caused among the besieged by the appearance of a flag of truce. A man rode over the ridge, down which the cattlemen had come in such haste, holding a white handkerchief fluttering over his head. His horse walked slowly and the rider kept his gaze on the front of the house, as though in doubt of the reception awaiting him. A hundred feet away he came to a halt, still flourishing the peace signal above his hat.
Capt. Asbury was the first to discover the messenger and hurriedly arranged for the interview.
"Inasmuch as that fellow is neither Inman, Cadmus, nor anyone of the leaders, it is not the thing for me to meet him."
"You have recognized him?" was the inquiring remark of Hawkridge, glancing with a smile at the officer.
"No. Who is he?"
"Duke Vesey, who does not feel particularly amiable toward you."
"I will meet him," volunteered Monteith Sterry. The captain shook his head.
"While that fellow is friendly to you, perhaps, others of the company are very resentful; it isn't best to tempt them. Hawkridge, you are the best one to act."
"Very well; I will do so."
The horseman had come to a stop and was gazing fixedly at the building, as if waiting for a response to his advance.
Jennie Whitney descended the stairs at this moment.
"I think I see Fred coming," she said, with some agitation; "will they do him any harm?"
"No," replied Sterry, "they have nothing against him."
"But the other day—" she ventured, doubtfully.
"Was a scrimmage, likely to take place at any time; that is ended, but they will probably hold him prisoner."
During this brief conversation a brisk search was going on among the three men for a white pocket-handkerchief. None of them possessed such an article, the hue in each case being different. Hawkridge appealed to Miss Whitney, and she produced a linen handkerchief of snowy whiteness.
"Just the thing," he said, drawing back the door sufficiently to allow him to pass out. "I don't think I will be detained long. It is understood," he added, turning to the captain, "that we don't consider the question of surrender under any terms."
"It will be better to report, and then decide what to
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