The Texas Boys Dallas

"Dan! Dan! Come quick and see what I brought down with the gun!"

"Why, Ralph, was that you I heard shooting? I thought it was father."

"No; I was out, down by the river bank, and I brought down the finest deer you ever set eyes on. He was under the bunch of pecan-trees, and I let him have it straight in the neck and brought him down the first crack. Now what do you think of that?"

Ralph Radbury's rather delicate face was all aglow with excitement and pardonable pride, as he spoke, leaning on his father's gun, a long, old-fashioned affair that had been in the family's possession for many years. Ralph was but a boy of eight, although years of life in the open air had given him the appearance of being older.

"What do I think?" cried Dan, who was Ralph's senior by six years. "I think you'll become a second Davy Crockett or Dan'l Boone if you keep on. It's a wonder the deer let you come so close. The wind is blowing toward the stream."

"I trailed around to the rocks where we had the tumble last winter, and then I came up as silently as a Comanche after a scalp. I was just about ready to fire when the deer took alarm, but I caught him when he raised his head, and all he gave was one leap and it was all over. Where is father? I must tell him." And Ralph looked around impatiently.

"I don't know where father is, if he isn't down by the river. I thought he went off to look up those hogs that got away last Saturday. In these times, so he says, we can't afford to lose six fat porkers."

"Perhaps those rushers who were on their way to Bexar rounded them up on the sly."

"No; father put the crowd down for honest men, and he rarely makes a mistake in judging a man, Ralph. Either the hogs got away by themselves or else some of those sneaking Comanches have been around again."

"Oh, Dan, that puts me in mind,-when I was up at the rocks I was almost certain I saw one of the Indians farther up the river. As soon as I looked that way he dodged out of sight, so I only caught one glimpse of him-if he really was an Indian."

At his younger brother's words, Dan Radbury's face took on a look of deep concern. "You are not real sure it was an Indian?" he questioned, after a pause.

"No, but I'm pretty sure, too. But even if it was an Indian it might have been Choctaw Tom, you know."

"You're wrong there, Ralph. All the Caddo Indians are friendly to the whites, and if it was Tom he wouldn't hide away after you had spotted him. More than likely it was a dirty Comanche, and if it was-well, we had better tell father about it, that's all."

"Why, you don't think--" Ralph paused, abruptly.