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Title: The Pioneer Boys of the Yellowstone
or Lost in the Land of Wonders
Author: Harrison Adams
Illustrator: Walter S. Rogers
Release Date: September 7, 2014 [EBook #46798]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PIONEER BOYS OF YELLOWSTONE ***
Produced by Beth Baran, Emmy and the Online Distributed
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[Transcriber's Note: Bold text is surrounded by =equal signs= and italic
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THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE YELLOWSTONE
[Illustration]
OR: LOST IN THE LAND OF WONDERS
THE YOUNG PIONEER SERIES
BY HARRISON ADAMS
ILLUSTRATED
[Illustration]
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE OHIO,
Or: Clearing the Wilderness $1.25
THE PIONEER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES,
Or: On the Trail of the Iroquois 1.25
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSISSIPPI,
Or: The Homestead in the Wilderness 1.25
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSOURI,
Or: In the Country of the Sioux 1.25
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE YELLOWSTONE,
Or: Lost in the Land of Wonders 1.25
_Other Volumes in Preparation_
[Illustration]
THE PAGE COMPANY
53 Beacon Street Boston, Mass.
[Illustration: "SOME OF THE BRAVES STARTED TO FASTEN THE PRISONERS TO
TWO TREES" (_See page 219_)]
The Young Pioneer Series
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE YELLOWSTONE
OR: LOST IN THE LAND OF WONDERS
By HARRISON ADAMS
Author of "The Pioneer Boys of the Ohio," "The Pioneer
Boys on the Great Lakes," "The Pioneer Boys of
the Mississippi," "The Pioneer Boys of
the Missouri," etc.
[Illustration]
Illustrated by
WALTER S. ROGERS
THE PAGE COMPANY
BOSTON [Illustration] MDCCCCXV
[Illustration]
_Copyright, 1915, by_
THE PAGE COMPANY
_All rights reserved_
First Impression,
June, 1915
PRINTED BY
THE COLONIAL PRESS
C. H. SIMONDS CO.,
BOSTON, U. S. A.
PREFACE
DEAR BOYS:--
In my last story, the title of which was "The Pioneer Boys of
Missouri," I half-promised that later on I might continue the recital
of Dick and Roger Armstrong's fortunes, and carry them further along
their pathway toward the far-distant Pacific. The opportunity to redeem
that promise having been given to me, I gladly meet you once more in
these pages; and I trust this story will afford you quite as much
pleasure in the reading as I have taken in the writing.
It will be remembered that we left the two pioneer lads in the winter
camp of the Lewis and Clark exploring party. This company had been
sent out, chiefly through the personal influence of the President at
Washington, to find a way across the newly-acquired country, and blaze
a path to the Pacific. They had gone into camp close to the quaint
Mandan Indian village, far up on the Yellowstone River, which stream
they had been following since leaving the Missouri.
Apparently their troubles and difficulties had all been smoothed
away, and there seemed to be clear sailing ahead for Dick and his
cousin. They anticipated spending the long winter months in various
ways--studying Indian character and habits, doing more or less hunting
and trapping, and possibly learning if there could be any real truth in
the strange stories they had heard from numerous sources concerning a
Land of Enchantment that existed near the "Big Water" at the source of
the river of the yellow rocks and the troubled current.
Unexpected developments, it chanced, caused the boys to venture into
this unknown and mysterious region, where they met with many adventures
which I have endeavored to narrate in this volume. It will be seen
that, although the various tribes of Indians inhabiting the Great
Northwest country at that time undoubtedly knew of the marvels embraced
in what is now Yellowstone Park, a superstitious feeling of awe for the
Evil Spirit's workings made their visits to that region few and far
between, though their love for the chase did take them there at times.
I trust that if any of you ever get a chance to visit this National
Reservation you will do so. And if you read the history of Yellowstone
Park you will find that perhaps the first authentic account of its
astonishing wonders was given to the world by a member of the Lewis and
Clark expedition.
HARRISON ADAMS.
_April 1, 1915._
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
PREFACE v
I THE YOUNG EXPLORERS 1
II SAVED BY A JACK-RABBIT 11
III THE TERROR OF THE MOUNTAINS 22
IV BAD NEWS 32
V READY FOR A FRESH START 43
VI ON THE TRAIL TO THE BAD LANDS 54
VII THE STRANGE AWAKENING 65
VIII THE VALLEY OF ENCHANTMENT 76
IX SURROUNDED BY MYSTERIES 86
X ATTACKED BY HOSTILE BLACKFEET 97
XI ON THE BANK OF THE YELLOWSTONE 107
XII UNEXPECTED HELP 117
XIII DEEPER INTO THE WONDERLAND 127
XIV THE LANDSLIDE 138
XV SHELTER FROM THE BITING NORTH WIND 148
XVI THE BATTLE IN THE CAVE 159
XVII THANKS TO THE WOLF PACK 170
XVIII THE GIANT PAINT POT 180
XIX A SUDDEN PERIL 190
XX PRISONERS OF THE BLACKFEET 201
XXI BINDING UP AN ENEMY'S WOUNDS 211
XXII IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT 223
XXIII THE ESCAPE 231
XXIV AN INDIAN'S GRATITUDE 241
XXV THE SNOW AVALANCHE 253
XXVI TRACKING A BUFFALO 261
XXVII FIRE FANCIES 271
XXVIII WITH HOPEFUL HEARTS 282
XXIX THE HUNTERS' FEAST 293
XXX ALLIES WITH COPPER-COLORED SKINS 303
XXXI THE CAMP ON THE BIG WATER 314
XXXII A WELL WON VICTORY--CONCLUSION 325
NOTES 335
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
"SOME OF THE BRAVES STARTED TO FASTEN THE PRISONERS
TO TWO TREES" (_See page 219_) _Frontispiece_
"HIS TREMBLING FINGER SUDDENLY PRESSED THE TRIGGER" 23
"MEAGER THOUGH THAT SUPPER MAY HAVE BEEN, THERE WAS
NOT A WORD OF COMPLAINT" 68
"BEFORE THEM THEY SAW A MIGHTY COLUMN OF STEAMING
WATER" 126
"TURNING AROUND FROM TIME TO TIME AS THOUGH HALF
INCLINED TO COME BACK" 175
"THE BUFFALO WAS JUST IN THE ACT OF TURNING WHEN
THE FRONTIERSMAN FIRED" 294
[Illustration]
The Pioneer Boys of the Yellowstone
CHAPTER I
THE YOUNG EXPLORERS
"I THINK we have gone far enough from the camp, Roger."
"Just as you say, Dick. I never seem to know when to stop, once I get
started."
"And it's easy to start you, too. That was why the boys, back at the
settlement of St. Louis, came to call you 'Headstrong Roger.'"
"Well, Dick, I hope to outgrow that fault in time. You know my father
was the same way, when he and Uncle Bob used to hunt and trap and fish
on the Ohio River, and later along the Mississippi."
"It seems hard to believe, Roger, that we are so far from our
homes. Sometimes I shut my eyes and can picture all the dear ones
again--father, mother, and my younger brother, Sam."
"Yes, but here we are, hundreds and hundreds of miles from them, and in
the heart of the Western wilderness," said the boy who had been called
Roger; "and planning to spend the coming winter with our good friends
Captain Lewis and Captain Clark."
"Sometimes," remarked his companion, "I am sorry we determined to stay
here and winter near the Mandan Indian village. We might have turned
back and gone home, along with the messengers who were dispatched with
documents for the President at Washington."
"And who also carried the precious paper that Jasper Williams signed,
which will save our parents' homes from being taken away from them by
that scheming French trader, Lascelles."
"And yet," observed Dick, thoughtfully, "when I think of the wonderful
things we have seen, and what a glorious chance we have of setting eyes
on the great Pacific Ocean next summer, I am glad we decided to stay up
here on this strange river of the wilderness that in the Indian tongue
means Yellowstone."
"It is a different stream from the 'Big Muddy' or the Missouri, and
as full of rapids as it can be. Before long the expedition will have
to abandon all boats, and trust to the horses to carry the camp outfit
over the mountains to the west."
"Listen, Roger, what was that sound?"
"I thought it was the whinny of a horse," replied the impetuous one of
the pair, as they dropped behind some brush that grew on the brow of a
gradual slope leading to a lower level.
"And it came from below us, too. What could a horse be doing here? Do
you think any of our men are out after fresh meat to-day?"
"There are a few horses among some of the Indian tribes around here,
and it might be--there, look, something is coming yonder, Dick!"
"Don't move again, Roger; it is an Indian brave, and there follows
another, treading in his trail."
"They are not of our friends, the Mandans, Dick, and they don't look
like the Sioux we met a while ago. There come three more, and now I can
see the horse!"
"H'sh! Not a whisper now, and lie as still as a rock. They have sharp
eyes, even if they are not on the warpath."
Roger knew why his cousin made this last remark, for the horse was
dragging two poles after him, the ends of which trailed on the ground.
Upon this primitive wagon rested quite a pile of stuff, evidently the
skin teepee of the family and other articles, as well as a buxom squaw
and a small papoose.
Back of the first horse came a second, similarly equipped, and then
another tall, half-naked brave, armed with bow and arrows. Dick knew
that the little procession was a portion of some Indian community
moving their camp to a place where the game would be more abundant,
for this was the season when they laid in their winter store of jerked
venison or "pemmican."
"Don't move yet, Roger," whispered Dick, after the last figure had
gone some little distance along the trail; "I believe there is another
party coming. Yes, I can already see them a little way back there. Just
crouch down and watch."
While the two boys are lying hidden, and waiting for the passage of
the hostile Indians, belonging to some tribe with which they hitherto
had had no dealings, we might take advantage of the opportunity to
ascertain just who Dick and Roger Armstrong are, and what they could
be doing in this unknown region, far back in 1804, when the headwaters
of the Missouri had never been fully explored by any white man.
Many years previous to this time their grandfather, David Armstrong,
had emigrated from Virginia to the banks of the Ohio, being tempted to
take this step because of wonderful stories concerning that country
told to him by his good friend, the famous pioneer, Daniel Boone.
His family consisted of three children, a girl and two boys, Bob and
Sandy. The brothers grew up versed in woods lore, as did all border
boys. They knew all about the secrets of the great forest and the
mighty waters. And, indeed, in those days, with peril constantly
hovering over their heads, it was essential that boys should learn how
to handle a rifle as soon as they could lift one of the long-barreled
weapons to their shoulder.[1]
Later, the pioneer was tempted to continue still further into the
Golden West, always with the rainbow of promise luring him onward
toward the setting sun. With other families, the Armstrongs drifted
down the beautiful Ohio, and finally settled on the Missouri, above
the trading post of St. Louis.
Here the two sturdy lads grew to manhood, married, and built cabins of
their own, near that of old David and his wife. To Bob came two boys,
Dick and Sam; while his brother had a son, Roger, and a sweet girl
named Mary, after her grandmother.
These two cousins, Dick and Roger, hunted in company, and were as fond
of one another as their fathers had been. Dick was a little the older,
and acted as a sort of safety valve upon the more impulsive Roger; but
both learned the lessons of Nature, day by day, until, at the time we
make their acquaintance in this volume, they were capable of meeting
the craftiness of the Indian, or the fury of the forest wild beast,
with equal cunning.
On the previous spring there had fallen a bombshell into the happy
homes of the Armstrongs near the thriving settlement named after the
French king. When David, on his arrival years before, had purchased
a large section of land that was bound to grow very valuable for
his heirs in later years, he had believed his title to be clear and
unquestioned.
Later, it turned out that a certain signature was lacking to make the
title valid, and unless this could be obtained within a certain time
from an heir of the original owners, the entire tract would be taken
from them. An unscrupulous French trader, named François Lascelles, had
secured the opposing claim, and threatened to evict the Armstrongs in
the coming spring, unless they could produce that valuable signature.
This impending family trouble affected Dick and Roger greatly. They
began to make investigations and learned that the man whose signature
was wanted, Jasper Williams by name, a hunter and trapper, was then far
away in the unknown regions of the West.
They also learned that this forest ranger expected to join an exploring
party headed by two men who had recently been in St. Louis, and whom
they had met in company with their grandfather, David Armstrong. These
were Captain Lewis and Captain Clark, sent out by the President of the
United States to learn what lay far beyond the Mississippi Valley, and
possibly to proceed all the way to the Pacific Ocean, which was known
to lie hundreds, perhaps thousands of miles west of the Mississippi
Valley. (Note 1.)[2]
So, determined to do everything in their power to get that paper signed
by the one man whose name would save their homes, Dick and Roger
had finally gained the consent of their parents to their making the
perilous trip.
Many weary weeks the boys followed after the expedition, which had had
quite a start ahead of them. They met with strange vicissitudes and
wonderful adventures by the way, yet through it all their courage and
grim determination carried them safely, so that in the end they finally
reached the little company of bold spirits forging ahead through this
unknown land.[3]
They were received with kindness by the two captains, who admired the
spirit that had brought these lads through so many difficulties.
In the end the valuable signature was attached to the paper, which was
placed in charge of a special messenger whom Captain Lewis was sending,
with two other men, to carry reports of the progress of the expedition
to the President, who had great faith in the enterprise.
This messenger had instructions to proceed straight to St. Louis, first
of all, and deliver the document to David Armstrong before heading for
Washington.
The boys had yielded to the invitation of their new friends to remain
with the expedition in camp through the approaching winter, and
continue on in the spring to the great ocean that all believed lay
beyond the mountain barrier. Such a chance would never come to them
again in all their lives. The document would reach the hands of the
home folks in due time, and also the letters they had dispatched with
it.
And so it is that we find Dick and Roger off on a little exploring trip
on a day when the chill winds told of the winter that was soon to wrap
all the land in an icy mantle.
They huddled there in security behind the thick brush, and, by peeping
through little openings, could watch all that went on below them.
The moving Indians interested them greatly, because they apparently
belonged to a tribe with which the boys, until then, had had no
intercourse; although Dick guessed, from the style of head-dress of the
warriors, that in all probability they were Blackfeet, and not Crows.
At any rate, he did not like their looks, and felt that it would be a
serious thing for himself and his companion if by any accident they
attracted the attention of the passing party. Even if they were not
just then on the warpath, they possessed arms, and might consider a
white intruder on their hunting grounds as a bitter enemy, who should
be exterminated at any cost.
The second detachment had now come along and was passing by. It
consisted of several braves, and another horse dragging the poles upon
which a squaw and three dark-faced Indian papooses sat amidst the camp
equipage.
Suddenly Roger, in his eagerness to see a little better, when something
especially attracted his attention, chanced to make a hasty move, with
the result that he dislodged quite a good-sized stone, which started
down the slope, gathering speed as it went.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] See "The Pioneer Boys of the Ohio."
[2] The notes will be found at the end of the book.
[3] See "The Pioneer Boys of the Missouri."
CHAPTER II
SAVED BY A JACK-RABBIT
AT first, the stone seemed satisfied to merely slide downward, so that
Dick hoped it would lodge in some crevice and not be noticed by any of
the passing Indians. This hope was short-lived, however, for, gaining
momentum as the slope grew steeper, the stone began to skip and jump,
until, bursting through a little patch of dead grass, it attracted the
attention of the nearest brave.
Dick heard him utter a guttural exclamation, and, at the same time saw
him hastily reach for his bow, which was slung over his shoulder. The
others, too, manifested immediate interest in the bounding stone, for
such things do not roll down a slope without some cause and there were
red enemies of their tribe who often lay in hiding to attack them.
Roger gave a gasp of dismay. That was not the first time he had been
guilty of bringing some sort of trouble upon the heads of himself and
his cousin. Dick laid his hand on the arm of the impetuous one, and
his low-whispered "Be still" doubtless prevented Roger from making
matters worse by showing himself above the bush that sheltered them.
It would seem as though some good cherub aloft must have interposed to
save the two lads from the peril which confronted them. Even as they
lay there and stared, they saw one of the Indians point at something
a little further along the slope, and then, strange to say, the
procession again resumed its forward movement, as though all suspicion
had been allayed.
Roger was almost bursting with curiosity to know what had intervened.
He had not been able to see, because Dick chanced to be on that side of
him and, much as he wanted to stretch his neck and look, he dared not
attempt it after what had happened.
Accordingly they lay perfectly still until the last of the Indians had
disappeared in the distance. Even then Dick would not start to leave
their hiding place until absolutely sure no others were coming along
the trail.
Unable to longer restrain the overpowering curiosity that gripped him,
Roger presently put the question that was burning on his tongue.
"What was it happened to make them pass by, and not start up here to
see how that stone started to roll down?" he asked.
"Then you didn't see the jack-rabbit, Roger?"
"A rabbit, you say, Dick?"
"Yes. It was the most fortunate thing that could have happened for us,
and we ought to be thankful to the little beast that he took it in his
head to skip out when that stone jumped through the patch of dead grass
where he was hiding."
"Oh! was that what happened?" exclaimed the other boy, chuckling now
because of the lucky event. "And, of course, when the Indians saw the
rabbit running off, they believed it had started the stone to falling.
It sometimes seems to me as if we were guarded by some invisible power,
we have so many wonderful escapes!"
"It may be that we are, Roger, because we know that not a day passes
but that our mothers, far away down the Missouri, are praying that we
may be spared to come back to them. But, now that the coast is clear,
let us head once more for Fort Mandan, as we call our camp."
Of course both these wide-awake lads knew how to find their way through
the densest woods, or over unknown ground, by using their knowledge of
woodcraft to tell them the cardinal points of the compass.
When the sky was clear, they could find the north by means of the sun,
moon, or some of the stars. If clouds obscured their vision, they knew
how to discover the same fact through the moss on the trees, or even
the thickness of the bark. Besides the methods mentioned, there were
others that experience and association with other rovers of the woods
had taught them.
Consequently, although they might be traversing country that neither of
them had ever set eyes on before, they always knew just which way to
head in order to reach camp.
Dick was constantly taking mental notes as he went along. These
included not only the prospects for game, but the lay of the land, for
Captain Lewis wished to know all that was possible about such things
before once more starting out in the spring to complete his great trip
to the Western Sea.
At the same time, Dick was also on the alert for every sign of danger,
from whatever source. His keen vision took in all that went on around
him. Not a leaf rustled to the ground, as some passing breeze loosened
its hold on the branch above, but he saw it eddying through the air;
never a little ground squirrel frisked behind some lichen-covered
rock, or tree root, that Dick did not instantly note.
They presently found themselves traversing what seemed to be a rough
belt of rocky land, where the trees were not very plentiful. It was
even difficult at times to advance, and they had to be careful where
they placed their feet, since a fall might result in serious bruises.
Just as they passed around a huge bowlder, that had at some time fallen
from the face of the cliff towering above them, the two boys heard a
queer, sniffing sound. Before either had time to draw back, there came
shuffling into view, not more than fifty feet beyond them, a terrifying
figure such as they had never up to that moment set eyes upon.
It was a huge bear, far larger than any they had met with in all their
hunting trips along the Missouri. From some of the hunters connected
with the exploring party they had heard the wildest stories concerning
a monster species of brown, or grizzly bear that was said to have its
home amidst the rocky dens of the mountains and foothills lying to the
west. The Indians always spoke of this animal as though it were to
be dreaded more than any creature of the wilds. The brave who could
produce the long claws of a grizzly bear was immediately honored with
the head feathers of a chief.
Dick knew, therefore, that they were now facing one of these terrible
animals. He could well understand the awe with which they were viewed
by the red men, and the half-breed trappers, for the appearance of this
monster was certainly alarming. Perhaps, if left to his own device, the
more cautious Dick might have considered it best for them to decline a
combat and, if the bear did not attack them, they could withdraw and
seek a safer trail across the rocky ridge.
In figuring on this course, however, he failed to count on the
impetuous nature of his companion. The hunter-instinct was well
developed in Roger. He looked upon nearly everything that walked on
four feet and carried a coat of fur as his legitimate prize, if only he
could succeed in placing a bullet where it would do the most good.
So it came about that, as Dick started to put out his hand with the
intention of drawing his comrade back, he was startled to hear the
crash of a gun close to his ear. Roger had instinctively thrown his
weapon to his shoulder, and, with quick aim, pulled the trigger.
Under ordinary conditions Roger was a very clever marksman. There were
times, however, when he failed to exercise the proper care, and then
he was apt to make a poor shot. That may have happened in the present
instance; or else, it must be true, as the Indians said, that the
grizzly bear could carry off more lead, or survive more arrows, than
any other living creature.
Dick was shocked to see that, instead of falling over as the shot rang
out, the great bear started toward them, roaring, and acting as though
rendered furious by the wound he had received.
There was nothing for it but that Dick should try to complete the
tragedy. He aimed as best he could, considering the fact that the
animal was now moving swiftly, if clumsily, in their direction, and
pulled the trigger.
His rifle was always kept well primed and the powder did not simply
flash in the pan; but he realized at once that he had not given the
monster his death wound, for the bear still advanced, displaying all
the symptoms of rage.
"We must get out of this, Roger!" cried Dick, for, as it would be
utterly impossible for either of them to reload in time to meet the
oncoming beast, they must either escape, or else engage in a terrible
fight with their knives at close quarters.
The remembrance of the long, sharp claws he had seen around the neck
of the Sioux chief, Running Elk, caused Dick to decide on the former
course. As he turned to run, he dragged Roger with him.
He remembered hearing that these terrible denizens of the Western
mountains could not climb a tree like their black cousins. To this fact
many a man owed his life, when attacked by a grizzly bear. As he ran,
Dick strained his eyes to discover a convenient tree into which he and
Roger might climb to safety.
Glancing back over his shoulder when a chance occurred, he saw, to his
dismay, that the wounded animal was coming after them with a rush, and
evidently had no idea of giving over the pursuit simply because his
two-legged enemies were retreating.
"What can we do, Dick?" gasped Roger, now beginning to realize the
foolishness of taking that haphazard shot at such a terrible beast,
against which he had been warned by others who knew something of its
ferocity.
"We must climb a tree, it is our only hope!" replied the other, between
his set teeth.
"There's one just ahead of us, Dick!" cried Roger, hopefully.
"We could never get up before the bear caught us, for there are no
limbs low enough to be easily reached," Dick answered. "A little
further on I think I can see the one we must gain. Try to run faster;
he is gaining on us, I'm afraid!"
Both lads were soon breathing heavily, for they found the uneven
nature of the rock-strewn ground to be very much against them. But,
fortunately, neither chanced to fall, and thus delay their flight and,
while the oncoming grizzly was yet some little distance in their wake,
they managed to reach the hospitable tree that offered them hope of a
refuge.
"Up as fast as you can, Roger!" urged Dick.
Roger would not have stirred an inch, only he saw that his cousin was
already clambering as fast as he could go. Impulsive, headstrong and
even careless Roger might be at times, but he was no coward, and he
would not climb to safety, leaving his chum to face any peril from
which he was freed.
They managed to get fairly well lodged in the bare branches of the
mountain oak before the pursuing animal arrived. The bear stood up on
his hind legs and tried to reach their dangling moccasin-covered feet,
meanwhile snarling savagely, and manifesting the most determined desire
to avenge his injuries.
"At any rate," said Roger, "we both hit him, Dick, for you can see
he is bleeding from two wounds. Oh! why did I let my gun fall when I
stumbled that time? If I had it here with me now I could soon fix that
fellow!"
"Then you must leave that to me this time, Roger," remarked the other,
who had managed to slip the strap of his gun over his shoulder as he
drew near the tree, so as to have both hands free for climbing--and he
had certainly needed them, too.
Dick now began to load his gun, meanwhile watching the actions of the
furious bear. The grizzly was trying to gain lodgment among the lower
limbs of the tree that had offered the fugitives an asylum; but he did
not seem to know how to go about it, or to utilize those long, sharp
claws that had been given to him by Nature more as a means of offense
than for climbing purposes.
Several times he fell back heavily, only to give vent to his ferocity
in sullen roars. Finally Dick, having sent the patched bullet home
with his ramrod, began to prime the pan of his long gun, so as to be
ready to make use of the weapon.
CHAPTER III
THE TERROR OF THE MOUNTAINS
"MAKE sure work of him, Dick!" Roger said, in trembling tones, as he
saw the other draw back the flint-capped hammer of his gun, showing
that it was ready for business.
The grizzly was still displaying all the signs of furious anger, and
there seemed some danger that he might manage to gain lodgment among
the lower limbs of the tree.
"No hurry, Roger! And, another thing, I've concluded that, since you
brought this trouble on our heads by that unlucky shot, you should be
the one to finish our enemy, not me!"
"Oh, Dick, do you really mean it?" cried Roger, filled with delight.
"I've been saying over and over again that some day I hoped to be able
to kill one of these monsters that the Indians fear so much. Do you
intend to lend me your gun, and let me finish him?"
"If you'll promise to keep cool, and watch for your chance to make the
bullet tell. We haven't so many of them along with us that we can
afford to waste even a single one."
[Illustration: "HIS TREMBLING FINGER SUDDENLY PRESSED THE TRIGGER"]
"I give that promise willingly," said the other, as he stretched out
his hand for the gun.
Having it in his possession, Roger's first move was to lower himself a
little. He meant to further excite the beast, and cause him to remain
upright until the gun, being brought to bear on his head, within a foot
or so of the small, gleaming eyes, could be fired with full effect.
"Careful not to go too far, Roger; he is waiting to make another try
for you!" warned the watchful Dick.
So the young marksman paused, and, settling himself firmly in a crotch
of the tree, bent forward. The gun was held at an acute angle, and the
tiny sight near the terminus of the long, shining barrel could be seen
against the dark fur of the bear.
When the beast opened his mouth to give utterance to another roar,
Roger knew his time had come. His trembling finger suddenly pressed
the trigger, there was a loud report, a still louder roar, and then a
scuffling sound.
"He's down!" yelled Roger, in anticipated triumph.
"Give me the gun, so that I may reload it!" the other boy called,
meanwhile observing the significant actions of the grizzly with mingled
curiosity and satisfaction.
The animal had fallen over, and seemed to be struggling desperately
to get up again on all fours. But that last leaden missile must have
reached a vital part, for, as the seconds passed, these efforts became
more and more feeble until, just as Dick primed his weapon again, there
was a last spasmodic movement. Then the huge animal remained motionless.
Roger sprang down from his perch, in his usual reckless fashion; but
there was no longer any danger, for the bear was dead. The boy placed
his right foot on the huge bulk, and waved his hat in triumph; for,
after all is said and done, he was but a lad, and this marked the
highest point in his career as a hunter of big game.
"They'll never believe it, Dick," he exclaimed, "unless we carry back
something to prove our story. And that means we've got to slice off
these claws to show. After this we can have necklaces made of them, and
the Indians will look on us as mighty hunters."
"Just as you say, Roger, and, if you start with that one, I'll attend
to the other fore paw. They are enough to give you a cold shiver. How
our mothers would turn pale if they saw them, and knew what a narrow
escape we had."
"Yes, but our fathers would pat us on the back, Dick, and say that we
were 'chips of the old block,' because they many times took their lives
in their hands the same way, when founding their homes on the frontier,
and know what it is to face the perils of the hunting trail."
Dick kept on the alert while engaged in his task of severing the claws
of the dead bear. After having seen those strange Indians passing, not
so very long ago, he realized that there was always more or less danger
of others being in the neighborhood. And those three loud reports, as
the guns were fired, would carry a long distance, telling the natives
that white men were around.
Nothing occurred, however, to give them further alarm, and presently,
the claws having been obtained, the two boys continued on their way
toward the distant camp.
It was at least two hours later that they sighted the Mandan village,
near which the camp of the exploring expedition had been pitched.
Knowing that, any day now, winter, while somewhat delayed, might break
upon them, Captains Lewis and Clark were preparing for a long stay
here, and their hunters were laying in a supply of fresh venison to be
made into pemmican. (Note 2.)
When the two boys reached the camp, bearing the terrible claws of a
grizzly, their arrival caused a great sensation. Roger did not spare
himself in relating the story, for he knew his own failings; but, since
it had come out well, he received nothing but congratulations.
The old forest ranger, Jasper Williams, lingered after the others had
gone, and Dick saw that he had some sort of communication to make. The
boys had managed to save Jasper's life when they were all prisoners
of the warlike Sioux, and, ever since, the trapper had felt a great
interest in the cousins.[4]
"I'm going off with two companions on a short trip," he now told the
boys. "We may be gone a week, or even two, for we wish to investigate
the truth concerning some stories that have come to us concerning
a wonderful valley among the mountains, where all sorts of strange
animals abound, even to goats that leap off the loftiest crags, and
striking on their curved horns, rebound safely. It is even possible
that, if we find the stories true, we may spend most of the winter
there trapping and hunting."
The boys were sorry to learn this, for they were fond of Jasper and had
hoped to see much of him during the long winter.
"We start in an hour, so as to get to a certain point by sundown," the
ranger told them further. "You see, the winter has been holding back so
long now that it is apt to start in any time with a furious storm, and
the sooner we get to where we are going the better. The snow falls very
deep in the mountains, and there are avalanches that bury everything
under them forty feet deep."
It was in the heart of Roger to hint that they would be delighted to
accompany the ranger; but a look from Dick caused him to bite his
tongue and refrain. Afterwards, when they had seen the three men start
forth, and cheered them on their way, Dick consented to explain his
reasons for motioning to his cousin to say nothing about going along.
"We can't expect to be in everything, you see, Roger," he said. "After
all, we are only boys, and some of the men here still look on us as
inferior to them in ability to accomplish things, because they are so
much stouter and stronger. We can find plenty to occupy our minds and
hands while they are gone. Perhaps, who knows? should they come back,
one of the men may not want to return with Jasper, and that would be
our chance to try for an invitation."
"I suppose you're right, Dick," grumbled Roger. "You nearly always hit
the nail on the head. But it would have been a fine trip for us. And,
now that I've met with and killed one of these terrible grizzly bears
we've heard such tales about, I'm burning with eagerness to shoot one
of the strange mountain goats Jasper was telling about, that have such
immense, curved horns."
"Plenty of time for all that, Roger," the other told him. "The whole
winter is before us, and when spring comes, as we head further into
the West we will have to cross many mountain chains before we see the
ocean. Among them we will surely come across numbers of these queer
goats, as well as elk, buffalo and antelope."
So Roger finally became reconciled to what could not be changed. There
was really no occasion for his feeling that way long, because Dick
busied himself in mapping out new ventures every night, as they sat
before the campfire, with hands twined about their knees, and talked
of home, and what wonderful sights they had looked upon since leaving
the settlement of St. Louis.
Two days thus passed, and the boys were looking forward to doing
further roaming, if the weather permitted, on the following morning.
The afternoon was drawing to a close, and in the west the sun sank
toward his bed among the far distant mountain peaks, while the heavens
began to take on a glorious hue.
The camp of the explorers was a bustling scene at such an hour, for
preparations were under way for the evening meal, the fires burned
cheerily, and it was almost time for the guard to be changed.
Being under strict military rule, the members of the expedition day and
night pursued their vocations with the same care as though they really
anticipated an attack from some unseen enemy. Guards were posted at
night, and no one was allowed to enter or leave the camp without giving
the countersign.
This was done partly because Captain Lewis and Captain Clark believed
in discipline, one of them having been brought up in the little army of
the new republic. There was also another reason for keeping a constant
watch. There had been a number of French half-breeds in this region
before their arrival, and these men, who had been reaping a rich reward
trading with the various tribes of Indians, viewed the coming of the
Americans with great disfavor, believing it might bring their harvest
to an untimely end.
Rumors had reached the ears of the commanders of the little force that
some of these men were trying to excite the Sioux to take up the buried
hatchet, and proceed in force against the Mandans and their new white
allies.
On this account, then, it was necessary that the camp be guarded
against a sudden surprise. At least, if trouble came the explorers did
not mean to be caught napping by the cunning redmen.
"You don't think it feels much like snow, do you, Dick?" Roger asked,
as they stood looking around them, with the sun commencing to drop down
behind the horizon.
"The signs do not show it," the other told him; "but you know they
sometimes tell us wrong. The season is so late, now, that we're liable
to get a heavy storm any day and, as it's growing colder all the time,
it will come as snow and not rain. Once it falls, the Indians say we
will not see the bare ground soon again. But what are the men running
to the other side of the camp for, do you suppose?"
"Listen, one of them just shouted that a man was coming, mounted on a
horse," said Roger.
"That sounds as though it might be a white man," added Dick, as they
hastened through the camp toward the other side where they might see
for themselves what all the commotion meant. "Horses are not common
in this country. We are running short ourselves, since we've had some
stolen by prowling Indians, two died, and the three men who started
down the river took as many more with them."
By this time they had arrived at a point where they could look toward
the southeast, for it was to that quarter the attention of the members
of the expedition seemed to be directed.
Dick uttered an exclamation that was echoed by his cousin. Their faces
expressed the utmost dismay and alarm and there was good reason for
this, as the cry that broke from Roger's lips indicated.
"Oh! Dick, what can it mean? There is the messenger who carried away
our precious paper, coming back to camp on a worn-out horse. Something
terrible must have happened!"
FOOTNOTE:
[4] See "The Pioneer Boys of the Missouri."
CHAPTER IV
BAD NEWS
"I'M afraid you are right, Roger," Dick replied, as the two pioneer
boys hastened to be among the first to meet the rider when he came
jogging into camp.
That something had, indeed, happened was easy to see from the dejected
manner of the messenger. His face bore a deeply chagrined look, as
though there was some reason for his feeling ashamed.
He had evidently pushed his horse hard all day, for the animal was worn
out, and reeking with sweat, despite the fact that there was a decided
chill in the air.
The man dropped wearily from his hard saddle. He came very near
falling, for, after sitting in that constrained attitude for many
hours, his lower limbs were benumbed, so that for a brief time he did
not have the full use of them.
By this time Captain Lewis had heard the clamor, and come out of his
tent to ascertain what had happened.
Possibly he may have supposed that it was only a visit from some of the
Mandans on an errand connected with their now friendly association with
the whites. Then again, the commander may have wondered whether one of
the hunting parties had arrived with some unusual species of game, such
as none of the explorers had ever seen before.
When, after striding forward to join the crowd, he saw the dusty
messenger, a frown came upon his ordinarily pleasant face. Captain
Lewis knew that something must have gone amiss, or the man who, with
two companions, had started over the back trail several days before
would not have returned to camp in this way.
"What does this mean, Mayhew?" he demanded, as he came up, the others
parting to allow a free passage, though naturally the two boys stuck to
their posts, because they had an especial interest in whatever story
the returned messenger might be about to relate.
"Something has happened, Captain Lewis, I'm sorry to tell you, and not
at all to my credit," replied the man, trying to calm himself, though
it was evident that he was laboring under great stress of emotion.
"Were you attacked on the way?" asked the President's private
secretary, who had been entrusted with most of the responsibility of
the excursion, and therefore felt more keenly than any one else the
possibility of failure.
He had taken great pains to keep a daily account of the trip up to that
point, and this diary he had sent to the head of the Government in the
care of the three men, one of whom now stood before him with dejected
mien.
"We believed we had taken all ordinary precautions, Captain," the
messenger continued, making a brave effort to confess his fault as
became a man; "but, in the darkness of the night, they crept upon us
without any one being the wiser. My horse gave the alarm with a whinny,
and, as I awoke, it was to find that the camp had been invaded by
several enemies."
"Could you not see whether they were Indians or otherwise?" asked the
commander, as though a sudden suspicion had flashed through his brain.
"It was very dark, and our eyes were not of much use, sir," the
messenger told him in reply. "We purposely refrained from building
anything but a small cooking fire, and that was in a hole so its light
might not betray us to any wandering Indians. But they were not red men
who attacked us; of that I am assured."
"Why are you so certain of that?" inquired Captain Lewis.
"We were all struggling with the intruders, who had evidently thrown
themselves upon us just as my horse gave the warning whinny," the
messenger explained. "I am positive that my hands did not clutch the
greased body of a redskin, when I tried to throw him. Clothes he
certainly wore, such as all frontiersmen do. I could feel the deerskin
tunic, with its fringed edges. Besides, I tore a handful of his beard
out in my struggles."
"No more proof is needed!" declared Captain Lewis. "They must have
been some of the French half-breeds. But go on, Mayhew, have you other
distressing news for us? What of your two companions; I hope they did
not meet their fate there in the darkness?"
At that the man's face lighted up a trifle. He had told the worst, and
the rest would come easier now.
"Oh, no, indeed, sir, none of us were badly injured, strange as it
might appear," he hurriedly explained. "Bruised we certainly were, and
greatly puzzled at both the attack and its sudden ending, that left us
still alive; but we were at least thankful it had been no worse!"
"And then what did you do?" continued the leader of the expedition.
"We stood guard with our guns ready the remainder of the night, sir,
but we were not again disturbed. It was toward morning that I made a
sudden discovery, which is what has brought me back to the camp to
report, while my two companions kept on with your documents intended
for the President."
Captain Lewis drew a deep sigh of relief. That was the first intimation
he had received that his precious communications had been saved.
"Then explain why you have returned, if the papers were saved!" he
demanded, as though puzzled.
"You forget, sir, that I was entrusted with another paper, which you
ordered me to personally hand to the grandfather of the two boys who
joined us."
When Mayhew said this, Dick and Roger knew that a new trouble had
descended upon their heads. He must have lost the paper in some manner
and yet neither of the lads was able to understand how it could have
happened.
"Do you mean to say the paper they set such store on is missing?"
Captain Lewis demanded.
"I had it securely hidden in a pocket inside my tunic, Captain,"
replied the humbled messenger; "but, when I came to look for it, it
could not be found. When morning came we spent a full hour scouring
the vicinity, but it was useless. And there had not been a breath of
wind to carry a paper away. It must have been taken from me while I was
struggling with that unknown man."
"This is indeed a strange story you bring back with you, Mayhew,"
continued the leader of the expedition, looking keenly at the other,
who met his inquiring glance as bravely as he could. "Stop and
consider, did you hear anything said that might give the slightest clue
concerning the identity of the thieves?"
"But one word, sir, and that was a name," came the ready answer. "The
man with whom I was grappling, as we rolled over and over on the
ground, suddenly let out a loud cry. I plainly heard him say the one
word 'Alexis!' And then he suddenly threw me aside, for he was very
powerful."
"And did the fighting cease immediately?" asked Captain Lewis, quickly.
"Yes, sir, the others seemed to take that word as a signal, for the
next thing I knew my companions were calling out to ascertain whether I
had been seriously hurt. I found that they also had been bruised, and
one had a knife wound in the arm, but not of a serious nature."
The captain turned toward Dick and Roger.
"You have heard what Mayhew says, my boys," he remarked. "Does it
afford you any sort of clue as to the meaning of this mysterious attack
in the dark, and the seizure of the paper you were sending home?"
"I am afraid it does, Captain," Dick replied.
"You recognize the name, then, do you?"
"It is that of the grown son of François Lascelles," replied Dick; "the
rascally French trader who has bought up the claim against our parents'
holdings down near the settlement of St. Louis."
"Then it is possible that they followed you all the way up here,
and, having obtained the assistance of some equally desperate border
characters, laid a cunning plot whereby they meant to win by foul
means, where fair could not succeed! What puzzles me most of all is
how they could know that Mayhew carried the paper. I should dislike
very much to believe we had a traitor in our little camp!"
The captain looked around at the assembled men with a serious
expression on his face, which caused some uneasiness among the
soldiers, frontiersmen and voyageurs who made up the expedition. They
had always shown themselves loyal to their commanders and, when the
finger of suspicion pointed their way, all felt the disgrace keenly.
Mayhew it was who came to their relief.
"I could never believe, sir, that any one here could be so
treacherous," he hastened to say, as though anxious to take the entire
burden of responsibility on his own broad shoulders, in which he proved
himself to be at least a man. "I have been seriously thinking it over
as I rode all day long, and believe I can see how it may have been
known that I carried the boys' packet."
"Then explain it, Mayhew; for I must confess that the whole thing is a
great puzzle to me," Captain Lewis told him.
"When they saw us depart they knew, of course, that you would be
sending a report of the progress of the expedition to the Government
at Washington, sir. They must have also surmised that the boys would
have influenced Jasper Williams to sign the paper that would free their
homes, and that one of us must be carrying it to St. Louis. Do you not
think that is reasonable, Captain?"
"Yes, but tell me how they could have picked _you_ out as the one
bearing it?" asked the other, impatiently.
"The only explanation I can give is that they must have been in hiding
near us at the time we camped," continued Mayhew. "I remember taking
the packet out, so as to fasten it in my pocket anew, since it was
not as secure as I desired. I believe some one was watching from the
bushes near by, and saw me do it. Then, while we struggled there on the
ground, he managed to tear open my tunic, and, while half-choking me,
snatched the paper away."
"And giving a prearranged signal at the same time to tell of his
success," remarked the captain, this time nodding his head in the
affirmative, as though he had come around to the same way of thinking
as Mayhew.
"The fighting ceased as if by magic," declared the messenger. "One
minute all of us were struggling as for our lives; then that cry
rang out, and immediately we found ourselves deserted. We heard
retreating footsteps, a harsh laugh, and shortly afterwards the distant
hoofstrokes of horses being ridden rapidly away."
"And you slept no more, but stood on guard, not knowing but that
the unseen and mysterious foes might return to finish their work?"
suggested Captain Lewis.
"It was well on toward morning at the time, sir, for we had slept. I
think they took a lesson from the redskins, who always make it a point
to attack a camp just before the coming of dawn. They believe that men
sleep heavier then than earlier in the night."
"You talked it over with the other men after the paper was missed, did
you," continued the commander, "and decided that, while they continued
on their long journey, it was your duty to return and report your loss?"
"I was broken-hearted over it, sir; but it was my duty. If I have
been neglectful, I must stand the consequences. But we saw nothing
suspicious, and did not dream of danger until it burst so suddenly upon
us."
"I shall say nothing about that until I have consulted with Captain
Clark, who, you know, is the military leader of the expedition. Have
your horse rubbed down, and secure food and refreshment for yourself,
Mayhew. I must talk with these boys now."
CHAPTER V
READY FOR A FRESH START
TURNING to Dick and Roger, Captain Lewis told them to follow him to
the shack where he and Captain Clark transacted whatever business they
found necessary for the conduct of the expedition. It had been built so
that the severe cold of winter might not interfere with their comfort
and such was the success of the experiment that other cabins were even
then in process of construction for the remaining members of the party.
Here they found the military head, busy with his charts. The leaders
knew so little of the mysterious country which they were bent on
exploring in the coming spring that notes were carefully kept of every
scrap of information obtainable.
Often this consisted of fragmentary tales related by some wandering
Indian concerning the strange things he had encountered far away toward
the land of the setting sun. Allowances were made for the superstition
of the natives when a record was kept of these tales; but often there
seemed a shred of truth behind it all which could be made to serve the
purposes of the daring explorers.
So deeply interested was Captain Clark in some work on which he was
engaged, and which seemed to be in the nature of making a new map of
the country through which they had already passed, that he had actually
paid no attention to all the shouting outside.
When his colleague came in, accompanied by the two boys, Captain Clark
realized for the first time that something out of the ordinary must
have happened.
He listened intently as the story of Mayhew's strange loss was
unfolded, asked a number of questions that put him in possession of all
the known facts, and then gave his conclusion.
"I am of the same opinion as the rest of you!" he declared. "It must
have been the work of the men who would profit should that paper
fail to reach the Armstrongs by spring; this French trader, François
Lascelles, and his equally unscrupulous son, Alexis."
"But to think of them following us all the way to this point! It seems
almost impossible," urged the other captain.
"Why should it be considered so?" asked the soldier, who appeared to
grasp the salient points much easier than the President's private
secretary had done. "We have encountered no difficulties that a party
of hardy voyageurs and trappers might not have overcome. Besides, it
is quite possible that this same trader may have been in this country
before now. The French were in possession of the great Mississippi
Valley all the way down to the Gulf many years before it came into the
hands of the United States Government. They must have had trading posts
far to the west, and their half-breed trappers have taken beaver and
all other fur-bearing animals from the streams of the Far Northwest."
"You are right, Captain Clark," said the other, warmly "and, after
hearing your reasonable explanation, I can well believe that these men
are no strangers to the region of the headwaters of the Missouri."
"I also agree with Mayhew regarding the camp having been watched,"
continued the soldier, gravely. "They suspected we would be sending
back a report of our progress, and surmised also that these brave boys
would either themselves carry their paper to their homes or else give
it into the keeping of our messengers. Just how they knew that Mayhew
was carrying their document, and not either of the other messengers, I
cannot say, but it seems that they managed to do so."
He turned to Dick and his cousin to say:
"I am sorry indeed that this new trouble has befallen you, my lads, but
throughout your long journey you have shown such fortitude, and such
determination to succeed, that I feel sure you will not be downhearted
now."
"Thank you, sir," replied Dick, for Roger could not say a word, since a
lump in his throat seemed to be choking him. "We have been brought up
by fathers who never knew what it was to despair. I was just wondering
whether François Lascelles would immediately destroy that document, and
then go on his way, resting under the belief that he had ruined all our
work of months. He may have forgotten one thing, which is that Jasper
Williams still lives, and can duplicate his signature, with both of you
for witnesses."
"Just what I was about to say," declared the soldier, with a smile of
satisfaction, "and it pleases me to know that you have hit upon the
same idea. Yes, while this Lascelles may think he has won his fight,
the battle is never over until the last trump has sounded. When you
again secure the signature you require, we will see to it that another
messenger is dispatched to your home bearing it."
Roger managed to find his voice then.
"But how are we going to reach Jasper Williams," he asked, anxiously,
"when he has gone off to find that wonderful valley where the game is
so plentiful, but which the Indians are afraid to visit on account of
the spirits that guard it?"
The two captains exchanged glances. They realized that difficulties
indeed lay in the way of accomplishing the plan they had so cheerfully
laid out.
"He may come back in a week or two, he told me," Dick explained, "and
then again it is possible, if his companions agree, and the place suits
them, that they may not return until late in the winter."
"And it would be too late then to get the paper to our people at home,"
sighed Roger, looking exceedingly downcast.
"I think I voice your sentiments as well as my own, Captain Clark,"
said the private secretary to the President, "when I make this
suggestion. We can place one of our trusty hunters in charge of these
lads, and send them off to try to find Jasper Williams and his party,
whose general direction we already know."
"I am of the same opinion, Captain," added the soldier, promptly,
showing that he must have been thinking along similar lines. "Indeed,
if an immediate start were made, they might even overtake the others on
the way, for I do not fancy they will be in any great hurry, since they
have orders to make notes of all they see by the way."
At hearing this Roger brightened up considerably. As usual, a way out
began to appear when things had become almost as gloomy as seemed
possible. As for Dick, he eagerly seized upon the chance to be doing
something. Like most pioneer boys, these Armstrong lads had been
brought up to strive to the utmost when there was anything worth while
to be attained.
"Oh, thank you, Captain Clark, and you, too, Captain Lewis!" he
hastened to say, "that is the kindest thing you could do for us. We
will get ready to start in the morning and, if our old luck only holds
out, we shall expect to come up with Jasper Williams inside of a few
days."
"You will need a good trailer to assist you," remarked the soldier,
"and among all our men I do not know of any who is the equal of Mayhew
if only you would not have any ill feeling toward him on account of
what his carelessness has already cost you."
"Why, it was hardly his fault, that I can see, sir," declared Dick,
"and I have always liked Benjamin Mayhew very much. If he cares to go
with us, tell him we will be only too glad of his company."
"Yes," added Captain Lewis, who knew his men as few commanders might,
"and this I am sure of--Mayhew will strive with might and main to
retrieve himself. You will find that he has really taken his bad luck
to heart. He will want to prove to us that he is capable. He will do
wonders for you, lads, and I believe you show the part of wisdom in
wishing him to accompany you."
"Then consider that settled," said the soldier. "I will have Mayhew in
here presently, and talk with him. You can make your preparations for
an early start in the morning."
"And both of us trust success will crown your gallant efforts to serve
your loved ones at home," said Captain Lewis. "I well remember your
fine old grandfather, David Armstrong. His name is familiar to all who
know the history of the early settlements along the Ohio, where such
valiant pioneers as Daniel Boone, Simon Kenton and Colonel Harrod led
the way into the wilderness, and lighted the torch of civilization."
It was very pleasant for the boys to know they had such strong friends
in the leaders of the expedition making a track across the newly
acquired possession of the young republic.
When they left the shack they somehow seemed to feel anything but
downhearted. Indeed, with the buoyancy of youth they now faced the
future hopefully, almost certain that they would quickly find Jasper
Williams again, and bring him back to the camp, where he would make out
and sign a new document, to be witnessed by both the captains, whose
names were sure to carry weight in any court of law.
"It might be a great deal worse," admitted Roger, as he accompanied his
cousin to their quarters in order to make what simple preparations they
thought necessary for the early morning start.
"Many times so," Dick assured him. "Why, after all, this may turn out
to be one of those blessings in disguise our mothers have so often told
us about."
"You will have to explain that to me, Dick," admitted the other boy,
"for I own up that it is too much for my poor brain to understand."
"Listen, then," continued the other. "What if that scheming François
Lascelles had delayed his attack on the messengers for days and even
weeks, until they were almost at St. Louis, and then secured our paper?
We would never have known about its loss, and could not send another!"
"That is so," assented Roger, nodding his head as he managed to grasp
the point his companion was making.
"Then again," continued Dick, who could follow up an argument with the
skill of a born lawyer, "suppose the three messengers had been killed
in that night attack, we should not have known a thing about it. Our
paper, as well as the valuable reports sent to the President, would
have been lost."
"Yes, and, Dick, we would have gone on enjoying ourselves all through
the winter, never knowing that we had failed to save our homes."
"As it is," continued the other, "Lascelles, believing he has cut
our claws, may take himself out of this section of country, so that
another messenger would have nothing to fear from him or his band."
"You are making me ready to believe that, after all, this may have been
the best thing that could have happened," laughed Roger, as he began
to examine his bullet-pouch to ascertain just how many leaden missiles
it contained, and then pay the same attention to his powder-horn.
For it was of the utmost consequence that in starting forth on this
quest, that might consume not only days but weeks, they should be amply
prepared for any difficulties that might arise to confront them.
That was destined to be a busy evening for the two lads. They molded
bullets, replenished their stock of powder from the stores of the
expedition, talked over matters with Mayhew, who seemed greatly pleased
at the confidence they expressed in him, and even managed to lay out
something of a chart for their guidance.
This map was made up of suggestions from Captain Clark, who had talked
with Jasper Williams before the latter and his two companions left
camp, and knew in a general way what direction they expected to take.
Before Dick and Roger allowed themselves to think of sleep, they
had everything arranged for the start in the morning. It was a great
undertaking for two boys to think of venturing upon, but certainly not
any more so than when they left their homes near St. Louis, and headed
into the trackless West with the intention of overtaking the Lewis and
Clark exploring expedition.
And both of them had faith to believe the same kind power that had
watched over their destinies thus far would still continue to lead them
by the hand.
CHAPTER VI
ON THE TRAIL TO THE BAD LANDS
WITH the first peep of dawn both lads were astir. Their hearts and
thoughts were so wrapped up in the desire to once more find Jasper
Williams and obtain his signature to a duplicate document, that, to
tell the truth, neither had slept at all soundly.
As all preparations had been completed, there was little for them to do
except get their breakfast, shoulder their packs, say good-by to the
two leaders of the expedition, as well as the men, and start boldly
forth.
Before the sun was half an hour above the horizon the little party of
three had left the camp and the nearby Mandan village behind them, and
were on their way.
It was known just where Williams and his companions expected to spend
their first night, having started at noon, so none of them felt any
necessity for trying to follow the trail until that point had been
reached.
All through the morning they moved on, and as noon approached drew
near the place where the camp had been mapped out.
"That much is settled, Dick, you see!" ventured Roger, as he pointed to
where the dead ashes of a fire were visible, there having been no high
wind to blow them broadcast.
"Yes, they spent the first night here," admitted the other, "and so
they must have just two and a half days the jump of us."
"That's a long start," grumbled Roger.
"Well, we expect to keep on the move each day longer than they will,"
explained the other. "Then again, they may find some place so much
to their liking they would conclude to spend a couple of days there
hunting or trapping. Jasper is always one to say a 'bird in the hand is
worth two in the bush'; and those stories about the wonderful valley
that is haunted by the spirits may turn out to be fairy tales after
all."
"And now the real work begins, when we have to follow this trail,"
added Roger, who acted as though he did not want to lose a single
minute.
"That is not going to be such a hard problem, I should think," Dick
told him. "In the first place, they will not try to hide their trail
very much, because they do not expect hostile Indians to follow them;
though at night, of course, they will take every precaution against
a surprise. And then again, Roger, we know something about trailing,
while Mayhew, here, has not his equal in our camp, so Captain Clark
told me."
Mayhew did not hear this, for he was busy looking around the camp,
examining the cold ashes, and in various ways picking up little details
that an ordinary person would never have been able to discover.
"Unless--well, I might as well own up, Dick," said Roger. "I've been
wondering whether after all that tricky Lascelles would be satisfied
to go away from here after destroying our paper. He might know about
Jasper Williams's trip to the Wonderland the Indians tell about, and
try to capture him, so as to keep him from signing another paper for
us."
Dick shook his head as though he did not believe such a thing could be
possible.
"It _might_ happen that way, Roger, but I feel pretty sure we're well
rid of that rascal. Let us keep the one thing before us to find Jasper,
and fetch him back to camp again in time to start afresh."
"There, Benjamin is beckoning to us, Dick; he is ready to start off,"
and Roger eagerly obeyed the finger of the guide, for he was anxious to
be on the move.
They did not even stop to make a fire and cook anything at noon,
but munched some food that had been brought along with them. Roger
begrudged even a ten-minute stop, when it was not absolutely necessary.
"We ought to keep on the move as long as daylight lasts," he declared.
"After it gets dark there'll be plenty of time to rest, and do a little
cooking. By then we might possibly be lucky enough to reach their
second camping place."
Time passed on, and constantly the little party pressed ahead. Just as
had been hoped, Williams and his companions did not seem to care to
hide their trail; though, when the chance offered, they always took a
course that gave them an opportunity to walk on hard ground, or even
rocks, which actions sprang from the natural caution of frontiersmen.
Slowly the sun sank toward the golden West. The boys surveyed a
low-lying bank of somber gray clouds and wondered if the long delayed
opening snow-storm of winter might spring from that source. Roger as
usual found cause for new anxiety in that possibility.
"If it does come down on us, you see, Dick," he said, complainingly,
"the first thing we'd lose the trail we're following, and then we'd be
in a nice pickle. What could we do if that happened?"
"Just as we did when following the explorers along the Missouri," he
was told. "Use our heads to figure things out and take chances. It has
worked with us lots of times, and will again."
"You mean we've got a general idea where that valley they are heading
for lies, and might get there even without following their trail; is
that it?"
"Yes, and to reach it we will have to pass through the country the
Indians fear so much, so that, before we are through with this trip, we
may know whether there is any truth in those strange tales or not."
"They tell of a large and beautiful lake in which the river with the
yellow stones along its bank has its source," Roger went on, recalling
all he had heard. "Then there are marvelous fountains that have spirit
breath, the red men say, and spring up from holes in the ground, to
try to reach the skies. They tell of many colored stones, and mud as
blue as the heavens; they say it is the home of the Evil Spirit, and
that no one's life is safe who wanders that way, and passes a single
night there."
"But you do not believe such silly stories, I hope?"
"Whether they are true or not, I am not prepared to say," replied the
other, after a little pause; "but you ought to know me too well to
think so ill of me as to believe that a hundred evil spirits would
keep me from exploring that country of the big lake and the flowing
fountains, and all the other strange things!"
So they talked as they moved along. Much of the labor of following the
trail fell upon the shoulders of the frontiersman, Mayhew, who seemed
only too glad to assume the responsibility. Not once did he lose the
track. When it crossed a stony section he seemed to be able to decide
just the point for which the others must have been making, and in all
cases he quickly pointed out the tracks again where the soil became
soft enough to allow of impressions.
They had seen considerable game while on the way, though not stopping
to obtain any fresh meat. All that could keep until they had overtaken
those who were ahead. So, although Roger was greatly tempted when he
discovered a trio of big elk feeding in a glade not a quarter of a mile
to windward, he shut his teeth hard and told himself that on another
day his chance would come.
Here were jack-rabbits in plenty, gophers whistled in the little open
stretches, antelopes were seen feeding on the prairies that lay between
the uplifts, while ducks and wild geese swam on the waters of small
ponds, and might easily have been bagged had the boys cared to take the
time.
Some of the rapid little streams they crossed looked as though they
might be well stocked with splendid trout; indeed, they often saw fine
gamy fellows dart out of sight beneath some overhanging bank. They
loved to fish as well as any boys who ever lived; but just then felt it
necessary to put the temptation behind them.
Once they even discovered a herd of buffalo not a great distance away.
"How I would like to creep up on them, and pick out a nice young bull
to drop," said Roger. Then he shook his head and heaved a sigh, for
there came before his mental vision the happy home so far away, over
which such a dark shadow rested, and which could only be dissipated
through the efforts of himself and his cousin.
"One thing we ought to remember with thankfulness," remarked Dick, "and
that is that so far we have seen not a single sign of Indians. The
Mandans do not come this way very often, you know, and the Sioux are
even more timid about venturing into the region of the Bad Lands; but
there are other tribes who are not so fearful."
"You mean the Blackfeet and the Crows," Roger added; "both of them
fierce fighters, and hating the whites like poison. I'm afraid we will
see more or less of them before we get back to camp."
"We have always been able to take care of ourselves in the past,
remember, Roger, and can again. Here are three of us, well armed and
determined. If the Indians try to do us injury they will find two can
play at that game. Our fathers had to fight just the same kind of
enemies away back there on the Ohio, and if we're 'chips of the old
block,' as they tell us, why shouldn't we do as well? There, Benjamin
has discovered something, and wants to show us."
Mayhew showed the boys where Jasper and his two companions had dropped
down behind some bushes, and crawled along for quite a distance.
"Here is where they stopped to raise their heads," explained the guide.
"I think they must have discovered some enemies over in that direction,
for they always kept peering out that way. See, here is where they
even plucked some of the dead leaves from this bush to glue their eyes
to the opening. It is an old hunter's trick for a moving branch might
betray the one in hiding."
A short time afterwards Mayhew seemed pleased, for he announced another
radical change in the trail he was following so carefully.
"The danger was passed successfully, you can see," he told the boys,
"for here they arose to their feet again, and hurried on, perhaps
bending low, because they were careful to keep behind these rocks.
After this we may not find it so easy to follow the trail, for they
have scented danger."
It turned out just as he said, and from that time on it required the
exercise of considerable woodcraft on the part of the frontiersman to
enable him to detect the tracks of the three whom they were pursuing.
Now Jasper and his two friends had followed an outcropping stone ledge
as far as they could, and swung across a patch of soft ground by means
of a dangling wild grave-vine. Another time they had stepped upon an
overturned tree, proceeded some distance along the trunk, and then made
a great leap for some spot where soft-soled moccasins would leave but
scant evidence of their passing.
But Mayhew was acquainted with all these methods of concealing a trail.
He had spent much of his life in the wilderness, and knew Indian ways
as well as any man Dick and Roger had ever met.
Gradually that long afternoon gave place to the coming of night.
Shadows began to steal out from among the trees and stalk boldly. More
and more difficult did it become for the trailer to see the faint
tracks of those he was pursuing. Finally he came to a full stop.
"It is no use trying further, lads," Mayhew told them, "for there would
be constant danger of losing the trail entirely. Unless we choose to
risk lighting torches, and keeping on, we must make camp here, cook
something to eat, and then get what rest we may, looking to a new day
and an early start."
Although Roger hated to give up, he knew there was nothing else to be
done.
CHAPTER VII
THE STRANGE AWAKENING
THERE was little that the two lads did not know about making a camp,
for they had been accustomed to spending nights in the woods ever
since they first learned to handle a gun, and bring down the game so
necessary for daily food.
The spot chosen by their guide for passing the night was as suitable
as could be found at that late hour. Around them lay the woods, the
trees tall and not of any generous girth, for the slopes of the hills
bordering the Yellowstone are covered with a growth of pine that is not
noted for its size.
When Mayhew tossed his pack aside the boys followed suit. They had made
a long day of it, and were tired, though ready enough to keep moving
could it be to their advantage.
The woodranger started to make his little cooking fire, while Dick
and Roger arranged their blankets and made other preparations for the
night. If they noticed the actions of the guide at all it was with
slight interest, for both were fully acquainted with the methods which
he used in his work.
Like many other things copied from the Indians, this idea of a small
blaze that could not betray their presence had become a part of every
woodsman's education. The way in which it was done was very simple.
First a hole was scooped out of a place where there was something
of a depression, and in this a small quantity of inflammable tinder
was placed. Flint and steel, upon being brought violently together,
produced the necessary spark, and the handful of fine wood took fire.
It was carefully guarded on all sides so that not a ray might escape to
attract attention; and, when sufficient red coals had accumulated, what
cooking was necessary could be carried on over them.
When properly done, this sort of fire might remain undetected twenty
paces away by the possessor of the keenest vision. Only the presence
of suspicious odors, such as of burning wood, or food cooking, might
betray the fact that there was a fire in the vicinity.
All Mayhew wanted was to heat some water, and make a pot of tea, of
which he was very fond, although it was a great luxury of that early
day. The supper itself would have to be eaten just as it was. They had
a fair amount of bread, such as was baked by the camp cook; plenty of
pemmican, and that was about all. If the food supply ran short they
must depend wholly on what game they could bring down with their rifles.
Most boys of to-day would view such a limited bill of fare with alarm,
and think starvation was staring them in the face. These lads of the
frontier, however, were accustomed to privations. They faced empty
larders every time stormy weather prevented hunting. And early in life
they learned that it does no good to borrow trouble.
The night closed in around them. Dick and his cousin lay in their
blankets and conversed in whispers, while Mayhew continued to busy
himself over his tiny fire.
Around them lay the wilderness that was almost unknown to the foot of
white man, yet it did not seem to awe these adventurous souls, simply
because they had been brought up in the school of experience, and were
familiar with nearly all the ordinary features of a vast solitude.
[Illustration: "MEAGER THOUGH THAT SUPPER MAY HAVE BEEN, THERE WAS NOT
A WORD OF COMPLAINT"]
When the guide had his pannikin of tea ready he told the boys to fall
to, and, being sharp pressed by hunger, they did not wait for a second
invitation. Meager though that supper may have been, there was not a
word of complaint, even from Roger. The pemmican tasted good to him,
the dry bread was just what he craved, and the bitter decoction which
Mayhew had brewed seemed almost like nectar.
Having accomplished its mission, the tiny fire was allowed to die
out. Mayhew managed to light his pipe, which appeared to afford him
much solace, and all three lay there, taking things as comfortably as
possible, while they discussed in low tones the prospects ahead of them.
Each one offered an opinion with regard to what sort of weather they
might expect in the near future. In doing this they consulted the
stars, together with the prevailing winds, and whether this last
seemed to carry any moisture in its breath since that would indicate
approaching rain or snow.
It was the general belief that the prospect could be set down as
uncertain. It might storm, or another fair day might speed them on
their way; matters had not as yet developed far enough to settle this
question.
The silence that had accompanied the coming of the night no longer held
sway.
From time to time various sounds drifted to their ears to announce that
the pine forest bordering the banks of the mysterious Yellowstone River
were the haunts of many wild animals that left their dens, after the
setting of the sun, for the purpose of roaming the wilderness in search
of prey.
Far in the distance they could occasionally hear, when the wind
favored, the mad yelping of a pack of gray mountain wolves, undoubtedly
on the track of a stag which they meant to have for their midnight
supper, if pertinacity and savage pursuit could accomplish it.
Closer at hand there came other sounds. Once the boys stopped speaking,
and bent their heads to catch a repetition of a peculiar cry that would
have sent a cold chill through any one unaccustomed to woods life.
"That sounded like a painter to me, Dick!" ventured Roger, handling his
gun, so as to make sure the weapon was within reach of his hand.
Of course a "painter" meant a panther, for it was so called by nearly
all back-woodsmen and pioneers of that day. And these two lads knew
well what a fierce antagonist one of those great gray cats became when
wounded, or ferociously hungry.
"Yes, that was just what I thought," replied Dick; "but there isn't
much chance he'll bother to pay us a visit to-night. The woods are big
enough to give him all the hunting he wants, without trying to invade
our camp."
"There seems to be plenty of life in this valley of the Yellowstone
River," the second boy continued, "and, even if Jasper Williams fails
to find the Happy Hunting Grounds he is looking for, he might do lots
worse than stay around here."
"Yes, I am sure there must be lots of fur to be picked up, and we saw
plenty of elk, you remember, Roger, as well as other food animals. From
what we have learned, the Indians never come in this direction unless
they are compelled to by a scarcity of game in other places."
"All on account of their believing an Evil Spirit haunts the land,"
commented Roger. "As for myself, I think all those stories must be made
up in the brains of foolish people. I would never believe one of them
unless I saw the things with my own eyes."
"We may know more about them before we finish this journey," Dick
remarked complacently.
"When you last examined the tracks left by Jasper Williams and his
party, Benjamin, how old did you make them out to be?" inquired Roger
of the guide.
"We are one day's journey behind them," came the assured reply.
"And if they should choose to linger on the trail we may overtake them
by to-morrow night," added Dick, in order to comfort his cousin.
"Then all I can say," continued Roger, "is that I hope they'll run
short of fresh meat, and conclude to loiter on the road. If Jasper
only discovers a big colony of beaver in a stream, I think he would be
tempted to camp near by and start trapping."
"Yes," Mayhew remarked, reflectively, between puffs, "he is always
talking about beaver pelts, and I have heard him say many times that he
never could resist taking the broadtails if given a fair opportunity."
"Well, we have seen signs of the houses of the little animals several
times as we came upon streams that flowed into the river," said Roger,
"so there may be a chance of our coming upon him before another sun
goes down."
The thought appeared to give him satisfaction, and from that time
on Dick noticed a difference in Roger's manner. Only one thing kept
cropping up to make him sigh occasionally, and this was the possibility
of snow catching them, and in a short time obliterating the trail of
the party ahead.
The last thing Roger did, before wrapping himself in his blanket, was
to step over to where he could look up at the heavens. The stars were
shining peacefully. They did not look unusually bright, which would
have been a bad outlook, according to the woodsman's reckoning of the
weather signs. The bank of low-hanging clouds must have remained close
along the horizon, or else passed away by some other route, for he now
saw no trace of them.
"I really believe it will be all right, Dick," was his cheerful
announcement as he settled down for a good night's sleep.
Dick did not reply; but, knowing how capricious the weather could
prove, he had already made up his mind to be surprised at nothing.
Even if he awoke in the morning to find three inches of snow covering
the ground, coming so silently they had not known of its fall, he was
prepared to take it philosophically. Perhaps, like a wise general, he
had already mapped out in his mind just what course they must pursue
under such conditions, for Dick Armstrong had always been prone to
foresee difficulties, and prepare to meet them as they came.
Roger soon fell asleep. Even his thoughts of the faraway home were of
a pleasant nature, and not calculated to keep him awake. Besides, that
long day's tramp over so much rough ground had wearied his muscles, and
a languor came upon him shortly after he wrapped his blanket about him.
A root served as a pillow. These hardy sons of the frontier needed
no down under their heads as they slept. Privations they had been
accustomed to from infancy, and a small amount of comfort usually
satisfied them. Doubtless their slumber was all the more sound on that
account.
Roger had no means of telling whether one hour or five had crept by,
when he was aroused by something that gave him a fierce tug. Instantly
he was awake, and, although at first he imagined he must have been
dreaming, he changed his mind when he heard a low, snarling sound close
to his ears, and felt another of those queer tugs.
It was cold, for, in rolling about as he slept, he must have displaced
his blanket.
That jerk at his right leg gave Roger a thrill. He realized that
something had taken hold of his fringed deerskin trousers, and was
endeavoring to drag him aside. Even as this startling conviction
flashed through his mind, for a third time he heard that low growl. It
was like that of a dog, when some one approaches while he is gnawing a
bone.
Roger slightly raised his head and saw two gleaming yellow spots that
seemed to glow like coals of fire.
He knew they were the eyes of some sort of forest beast that was
crouching close alongside him; though why it had seized upon his
trouser leg and kept up this spasmodic tugging Roger could not
comprehend.
Where was his rifle? He put out a hand, groping for the weapon, which
action was the signal for more growls, and a spitting sound such as a
cat might make. Then he heard a low whispering voice saying:
"Keep still, Roger; don't move! I've got my gun, and can fix him!
Steady, now!"
Then came a mighty crash that awoke the echoes of the forest.
CHAPTER VIII
THE VALLEY OF ENCHANTMENT
ROGER knew what was expected of him under such conditions. A regard
for his own safety induced him to roll aside. If the wounded animal
endeavored to fasten upon his body in its death throes, he preferred to
be in some other and safer locality.
There was confusion for a minute or so. Roger, after escaping from the
claws of the unseen beast, scrambled first to his knees and then to his
feet. He could not think of going back to search for his gun, because
something was struggling on the very spot, and he could imagine what
that writhing object must be.
So he drew his hunting knife and waited. Then the sounds began to grow
fainter, which the boy knew was a promising sign. Finally all became
still again.
"Dick!" he whispered.
"Yes, I'm here, Roger," he heard his cousin say.
"Is he dead, do you think?" asked the other.
"I have just poked about with the barrel of my gun, and touched him,"
Dick replied. "There's no movement to the body, so I feel sure I
finished him. Come this way; I felt your gun with my foot just now."
They had no means of seeing the motionless form of Dick's quarry,
unless they chose to go to great trouble with flint and steel and
tinder. There was really no need of this, because all of them were
familiar with the denizens of the forest; so that, using their hands,
they readily ascertained the nature of the invader of the camp.
"Why, it's only a wildcat, after all, Dick!" exclaimed Roger, a note of
disappointment in his tones, as he came upon the abbreviated tail. "I
was so sure it was the painter we heard crying earlier in the night."
"I thought the same way, Roger," confessed the other, "until I came to
feel the fur, when something told me it was different. But we never yet
killed such a wildcat as this, in all our tramping."
"It does seem to be a monster," admitted the other.
"It is not only the size I meant, Roger, but feel of the ears."
"Why, how very strange, Dick; for all the world like a tassel at the
end! What kind of a beast have we run across? We never saw wildcats
like this along the Missouri, you know."
"I have heard old voyageurs tell about a species they meet with further
north in the cold country of the Chippewas and the Crees. They call it
a lynx in Canada. It is a very fierce beast, all accounts agree."
"But, Dick, think of his coming right into our camp, and trying to
carry me off! I never would have believed it if any one had told the
story. He tugged at my leg again and again. It was that woke me up, I
expect. If that's the kind of wildcats they have in this country, I am
not surprised at the Indians keeping away from this region."
"There must be some reason for the beast acting as it did. I think we
will find that in rolling about you must have managed to get over the
spot where Benjamin laid our stock of pemmican, and that was what the
beast was after."
"Oh! do you think so?" remarked Roger, heaving a sigh of relief. "Well,
I shall be glad to believe he was not trying to carry me off. But all
the same, Dick, you never before heard of a wildcat being so bold."
"I never did, and that is a fact," admitted Dick.
They settled down once more, though this time Roger changed his
position so as to make sure he would not invite a repetition of the
attack. Mayhew, too, had taken warning from the adventure; he proceeded
to fasten their stock of dried venison to the limb of a tree in such a
way that it would be safe from the depredations of any hungry animal.
That one alarm was not repeated. Throughout the balance of the night
prowling wild beasts might roam the forest and seek their prey, but
they gave the camp of the little party a wide berth. Perhaps they
scented trouble in the blood of their kind that had already been
spilled.
With the coming of dawn the boys were up and doing. Roger examined the
stiffened form of the lynx with much curiosity. He seemed to be of the
opinion that, since the ice had now been broken, they were apt to run
across many other strange creatures, the like of which they had never
before set eyes on.
Indeed, before they had been an hour on the way that morning, they
began to notice that a remarkable change was taking place in the
character of their surroundings. The sun's rays, falling on the face of
a hill, filled them with awe, for it seemed to reveal almost every hue
of the rainbow. Here a waterfall burst upon their vision, the stream
dropping fully a hundred feet, and looking like a bridal wreath as
the light breeze carried the fine spray to leeward, through several
rainbows.
"The Enchanted Land, of a truth, Dick!" was Roger's comment, as they
came to a full stop, to gaze upon these remarkable sights.
"Already it begins to look to me as though there might be some truth in
the weird stories the Indians have been telling about this country up
here," the other boy confessed.
As for Mayhew, the guide, he could not find words to describe the
mingled feelings of admiration and wonder that filled his soul. None of
them dreamed of turning back, although they were beginning to encounter
sights such as the eyes of white men had possibly never before beheld.
"Jasper was not dismayed by all this," said Dick, "for we can see that
he and his party kept on, following the course of this river of the
cataracts and the rapids. So we, too, must march on."
"I feel thirsty," remarked Roger, shortly after this, "and as here runs
a nice looking little stream I think I will take a drink."
Dick was about to follow suit when he saw Roger suddenly start up from
his kneeling position, with a look of the most intense astonishment on
his face.
"Why, Dick, it burns me!" he cried. "The water is hot!"
Dick immediately tested it with his hand.
"Just as you say, Roger, it seems as though it might be over a fire. Do
you know, I noticed something like a trace of steam, but I thought it
only such vapor as we often see rising from ice-cold water."
"But who ever before met with boiling water in the open?" asked Roger.
"Why, there must be fires under the earth here, such as leap out of
volcanoes in other countries."
He even rested his hand on the rock close by, but found it cold.
Vegetation grew all around the hot stream and pool, showing that it
never overflowed its banks at any time.
"There's one good thing about it," remarked Dick, turning to the
frontiersman; "after this, if these hot springs are common here, you
will never need to build a fire in order to make a pannikin of tea."
"I can believe almost anything after this," muttered Roger, as he
dabbled his hand in the pool, and quickly snatched it out again, for
the water seemed to almost scald his flesh. "Of course nothing can live
in such a stream. I wonder what next we will run across. Cats with
tassels on their ears, rocks and mud looking like they had been painted
every color going, waterfalls that drop from the clouds, and where
rainbows play hide and seek in the sunlight, and now a boiling spring,
and a hot pool. What if one of us had fallen in here, and could not get
out?"
"We'll soon begin to believe in those stories the red men tell of the
Evil Spirits that live in this enchanted valley," laughed Dick, who
seemed determined not to allow himself to be dismayed by anything
wonderful they might encounter in their wanderings.
"I'm getting that way even now, Dick. I tell you, it wouldn't surprise
me very much if we ran upon one of those monsters they say used to live
in America centuries and centuries ago, much larger than an elephant. I
only hope my rifle speaks true, if ever I have to face anything like
that!"
Leaving the hot spring behind them, they pushed on along the trail made
by Jasper Williams's party. Doubtless those three men were also filled
with wonder at what they saw. Roger more than once expressed doubt as
to whether they would have the courage to continue their explorations
much further, surrounded as they found themselves by such marvelous
freaks of nature.
"It wouldn't surprise me if we met them hurrying back out of here," he
told his companions. "Jasper himself is a bold spirit, but I have a
poor opinion of the two other men with him. I believe they are inclined
to be superstitious, like the Indians, and these things are enough to
make the flesh creep."
Here and there, as openings occurred, they could catch glimpses of
distant peaks that looked like cathedral spires in the gilding rays
of the sun. Dick was drinking in these pictures with eagerness, for
the boy had something of the artist in his nature. He could appreciate
such glorious works wrought by the deft hand of nature more fully than
Roger, who saw rather the practical side of the picture.
Once, during that morning tramp, Roger did receive a fright. It did
not come from any threatened attack on the part of a ferocious wild
beast, nor yet through his narrow escape from falling into some pit
where strange, gurgling, mysterious sounds oozed forth. On the contrary
it was just because it started to snow furiously, so that the whole
landscape was blotted out.
"That settles it, Dick," he exclaimed, in sheer disgust, "we're done
for now. The only thing left us is to head as best we may for the place
we believe the Valley of Wonders lies, and which we must be close to,
right now."
"You are in too big a hurry, Roger," his cousin told him. "Just because
a few flakes chance to come down is no proof that we are in for a
storm. Look up and you will see the blue sky over yonder. It is only a
passing squall, and soon over with, so cheer up."
His prophecy proved true, because in another minute the snow ceased
to fall, and out came the welcome sun again, to once more paint the
hillsides with his wondrous brush, and stripe them with rainbow tints.
"You must own up that most of our troubles come and go like that,"
commented Dick. "At first they seem to be dark and heavy, but all at
once the sun breaks out, and we forget the gloomy past. It ought to be
a lesson to you."
"I know it, Dick, but my nature is different from yours. I am either
bubbling over with joy or else weighed down with foreboding. But we
can see some distance ahead at this point, and I must confess that
there is no sign of a human being, so Jasper and his comrades cannot be
returning along the trail."
"The wind is shifting for one thing," observed Dick, "which may bring
about a change in the weather before very long."
"Listen, what do you suppose that sound can be? If the weather were not
so cold, and the season summer instead of early winter, I would surely
say it was distant thunder!"
All three stood still to listen intently. Presently the far-away
rumbling sound was again borne to their ears; and, just as Roger had
declared, it was like distant thunder coming from beyond the range of
forest-clad hills.
It was not strange that the two boys and the frontiersman turned uneasy
looks upon each other, surrounded as they were by such strange freaks
of nature.
CHAPTER IX
SURROUNDED BY MYSTERIES
"WHAT about the swivel gun in the camp; could it be heard as far away
as this, do you think, Dick?" asked Roger, as though a new idea had
flashed into his mind.
The other shook his head in the negative.
"Hardly," he replied, "and, even if it were possible, you forget that
it is only when the wind picks up from this new quarter that we hear
the sound."
"And that is from the northwest, while our camp lies back yonder, more
in the northeast," admitted Roger. "I admit that, when I spoke, I was
picturing a horde of half-naked Indians trying to carry the camp by
storm, and Captain Clark rallying his defenders behind the breastworks
we built out of pine logs and earth."
"It is nothing of that sort, I am sure," said Dick, "though, when you
ask me to explain the origin of that sound, I am as much in the dark
as you."
"Well, as our way lies toward the northwest," remarked Roger, "there's
some satisfaction in knowing we will be getting closer to the mystery
all the time."
"I am glad to see that you are not afraid, Roger."
"There can be no telling what state I may be in before we get out of
this strange country," admitted Roger, laughingly. But Dick knew him
too well to think he could show any sign of fear.
Mayhew said little, for he was naturally a man of few words. He could
not be reckoned as above the average of his class; and possibly there
was a well-defined streak of superstition in his nature, even as it was
to be found in other bordermen of the day.
Left to his own devices, perhaps Mayhew would have much preferred not
to advance any further into this unknown and terrifying land. He had no
particular desire to learn whether the stories told were true or false;
and the camp that had been left behind held many alluring claims to his
regard.
But his honor as a reliable borderman was in the balance. He could not
forget that, chiefly through his carelessness, there had been lost a
paper entrusted to his charge, which was of the utmost value to these
lads.
Hence he was firmly resolved to stand by them, no matter what happened,
for the object of their venture was to duplicate the document he had
allowed to slip out of his hands.
"There is the river over yonder; I can see the sun shining on the
tumbling water of one of the numerous cataracts," Dick commented, as he
pointed in the direction indicated.
"The Indians have a story to the effect that it springs from a great
fresh water inland sea lying over the ridges somewhere," Roger
remarked, as he stood looking at the foaming surface of the stream. "Do
you believe there is any truth in that account, Dick; or can it be set
down as a fable, like this Evil Spirit of the land?"
"Oh! it seems that others have looked upon the great lake at a
distance, French traders and voyageurs, and they say it is surely
there," the other affirmed. "Who knows but that, before we see our good
friend Captain Lewis again, we, too, may be able to boast of having set
eyes on the mirror lake."
"Captain Lewis told me he would give much for the privilege of
accompanying us; but duty would not permit," Roger observed.
"Yes, he cannot forget that the President committed the fate of
this exploration into his hands, and looks to him to supply all the
information possible," said Dick. "So Captain Lewis, like an honorable
and conscientious gentleman, will not take any unnecessary risk in
order to gratify his curiosity. His place is there in the camp."
Feeling hungry as noon arrived they munched some of the hard pemmican
while keeping on the move. That suited the impetuous Roger, for it was
virtually "killing two birds with one stone"; they satisfied their
hunger, and yet found no reason to delay their progress in order to do
so.
Mayhew still found a way to discern the trail of those who had gone
over this same ground ahead of them. Indeed, it would have to be a
faint track that his practiced eyes failed to discover.
All this while there had been a perceptible change in the character
of the country. It kept getting more rocky, and wilder the further
they advanced. Roger was constantly looking on all sides as though
expecting to discover some new and remarkable thing at any minute.
Indeed, Dick was also considerably worked up over the strange
conditions surrounding them, and made up his mind not to be surprised
at anything that might happen.
It was when they were in this receptive frame of mind that something
occurred out of the common, to alarm them. Roger was the first to hear
a sound, though Dick, seeing him come to a sudden halt, and stand in an
attitude of listening, also began to catch it.
"Hold on, Benjamin," said Dick, in a low tone, "there's something queer
going on around us that we must look into before proceeding further."
"Of all the strange things, did you ever hear such a terrible groaning
before, Dick?" asked Roger. "I wonder if it has anything to do with the
noise we caught before, that was so like thunder."
"Hardly, for that was surely far away, while this is close by," replied
the other boy, with a puzzled look on his sun-browned face.
Roger even took off his foxskin cap, as though he imagined that the
dangling flaps which he used to keep his ears warm in bitter weather
might interfere with his sense of hearing.
Again those strange groanings made themselves heard. This time both
boys managed to locate the sound as coming from the right. That was at
least one point gained, and it was toward that quarter they now turned
their attention.
If they had been trying to pick out the most difficult spot in all
the wild vicinity, they would have selected that toward which their
attention was now directed. The rocks seemed to be piled on one another
in hap-hazard fashion. Here and there they formed deep chasms, the
sides of which were so precipitous as to be incapable of being scaled
by any creature short of a monkey.
"It comes welling up out of the ground itself, Dick," ventured Roger,
presently, with awe in his manner, as though, after all, he might be
wondering whether there could be any truth in the tales told of the
Evil Spirit that haunted these weird ridges, speaking in thunder tones
at one minute, and with dreadful groanings the next.
Dick believed in taking the bull by the horns in a case like this.
"We must look into it, Roger; it would never do for us to say we had
been driven away through hearing some mysterious sound that we did not
understand."
"There it comes again, Dick, and louder than before. What can it be?"
"The hot spring seemed to tell of some sort of fires away under the
surface of the ground," the other said, reflectively, "and it might be
that this is more of the hot vapor pressing up through holes in the
rocks."
"But how like human groans the sounds are!" marveled Roger.
"I agree with you," his companion returned, "but have you forgotten the
time we heard those terrifying noises coming from the old mill that
stood a mile away from our homes, and how some of our companions fled,
but we had the hardihood to go inside and look around?"
"Yes," interjected Roger, quickly, "and we found the wind forced a way
through a crack between two logs, and made the doleful noise! It may be
something like that here."
"We will soon know, because I mean to make my way over there and take a
good look around," announced Dick.
"If you go I will keep you company!" declared Roger, just as stoutly,
as he gave a glance down, in order to make sure that the powder in the
pan of his flint-lock rifle had not been disturbed, and that the weapon
was ready for instant use.
Together they advanced, with Mayhew keeping them company. All were
constantly on the alert for signs of treachery and danger. Those who
dealt with the tricky red sons of the forest in the pioneer days
learned to be always on the watch.
Now the sounds ceased, and the boys exchanged looks, as if asking each
other whether this could have anything to do with their arrival. Were
hostile eyes watching them from some rocky covert; and would a signal
be given to launch an attack?
Dick, examining what lay just beyond, came to a conclusion.
"There is a gaping hole yonder, you see, Roger?" he noted.
"Where the rocks seem to drop straight down, you mean?" replied the
other.
"Yes, and it is out of that hole the sounds came. Let us stand here,
and wait to see if we can hear them again."
They had not long to wait. Even as they stood listening intently, there
came once more a long-drawn moan, which was followed by others. Then
succeeded a rattling sound as though some heavy body were endeavoring
to creep up the slanting rock, only to slip back again. They even heard
the thud that seemed to announce the end of the vain attempt.
Still it was all unintelligible to both Dick and Roger. While the
groans continued to well up out of the basin, they again started to
creep forward. The brink was within plain sight, and in another minute
they would be in position to peer over the edge.
What new and terrifying wonder they might discover there they could not
even guess, yet it was with a thrill that the lads kept on, covering
the intervening rock foot by foot.
They reached the brink together, and both immediately thrust out their
heads to take the first look. Only for a brief space of time did they
stare downward, and then, just as a cautious tortoise might draw back
his head within his shell, Dick and his companion retreated.
"Oh!" gasped Roger, as he turned his face, filled with perplexity,
toward the other, "did you see what it was, Dick?"
"After all, nothing so strange as we thought," replied the other.
"Instead of a supernatural happening, it was real human groans we
heard. There are men trapped in that hole, and they have tried again
and again to climb up, always to slip back again. They must he
battered, and nearly starved, which would be enough to make them groan,
I think."
"But, Dick, I saw one of them plainly, and I knew him, too!" urged
Roger, bluntly.
"Then you saw more than I did," the other told him. "From the fact that
they are dressed in buckskin I knew they must be hunters or trappers,
but supposed it would turn out that they were French voyageurs, such as
have roamed throughout the Northwest country since the time of Pontiac.
Who was the man you saw, Roger?"
"It was surely Thomas Hardy, one of the men who accompanied Jasper
Williams," said Roger, showing much concern. "And I believe the other
to be Mordaunt, the second frontiersman and trapper. But there is no
third in the party. What can have become of Williams? If he is dead
there is an end to all our hopes. Oh, Dick, I am afraid!"
Dick's face had also lost much of its customary color, for a spasm of
alarm had attacked his bold heart when his companion thus voiced his
fears.
CHAPTER X
ATTACKED BY HOSTILE BLACKFEET
"CHEER up, Roger!" said Dick, making an effort to look as though he
himself had no fear of disaster. "I've often heard my father say it is
foolish to cross a bridge before you reach it. The first thing for us
to do is to let these poor fellows in the trap know we are here."
When there was a prospect for action Roger could rouse himself
wonderfully.
"And we must get them out of that deep hole by hook or by crook, Dick!"
he exclaimed.
The two pushed forward until they could look down toward the place
where they had discovered the forlorn figures of the prisoners.
"Hello! Hardy--Mordaunt!" called Dick, just loud enough to make his
voice carry to the men. He did not know what danger might be near, and
on this account believed it the part of wisdom to be careful.
Immediately the pair below looked up. When they discovered the boys
they manifested the greatest delight, even to shaking hands with each
other. Evidently they had been close to the point of despair.
"We're going to get you out of that hole first of all!" called Dick,
"and then you can tell us what happened."
"Where is Jasper Williams?" demanded Roger, unable to restrain his
impatience longer.
"We do not know," came the discouraging answer.
"Then he isn't down there with you?" pursued Roger.
"No. The last we saw of Jasper he was still alive, although hotly
pursued."
Naturally these last words excited Roger's curiosity more than ever.
He could easily guess that the party must have met with a stirring
adventure of some sort, and if Williams had fled it must have been
hostile Indians who pursued him. But Dick would not hear of any further
delay in starting work.
"Come, Roger, I shall need your assistance," he told the other. "Bottle
up your curiosity until we can get those poor fellows up out of the
pit. They seem to be injured more or less, for Hardy has a bandage
around his arm that looks bloody."
Roger was only too willing to render what aid he could, though the fact
struck him that they were not likely to find it plain sailing.
"If they couldn't climb up out of that hole on account of the smooth
face of the rock, how shall we go down to help them, Dick?" he demanded.
"That would be foolish," was the reply. "We must plan to draw them up
here."
"But, Dick, where is the rope to come from? We brought nothing of the
sort from the camp?"
"Then we must find a substitute. Look back at some of our experiences,
and tell me if we have not done that more than once when in the forest?"
"Why, yes, a wild grape-vine can often be made to serve the purpose of
a rope, because it is tough and long and pliable. But where can we get
such a thing now?"
"As it happens, I noticed some vines growing not far back, and I am
leading you to the place now. Look over yonder at that little swale,
where the trees grow so densely; there are vines hanging from the
branches, for I saw them swaying in the breeze."
"Yes, I do believe you are right," admitted Roger, who possessed
splendid eyesight. "I only hope we find one long enough."
"Oh! as to that," responded Dick, calmly, "we could easily splice a
pair of them. There's nearly always a way to do things if only you make
up your mind to do them."
They soon arrived at the patch of swampy ground where the undergrowth
grew so densely. It was an ideal place for wild grape-vines, and small
wonder that they grew to such a length, some twisting in spirals around
the trunks of the trees, others hanging from limbs that were fully
twenty feet overhead.
Roger gave expression to his satisfaction the minute he set eyes on
this network of vines.
"No trouble getting what we want here, I should say, Dick. Look at that
monster vine; though this one seems better fitted for our purposes,
because it is like a stout rope, if only it proves tough enough to hold
a weight."
"No trouble about that, I'm thinking," said Dick. "You could hang half
a ton on that vine and it would hold. You are a better climber than I
ever claimed to be, so get up the tree and cut it loose above."
Nothing suited Roger better than this. Laying his gun down, together
with his powder-horn, which might be in the way, he started up the tree
indicated. Arriving at the limb to which the vine they had selected
seemed to be fastened he first examined it carefully, and then with his
knife soon cut it free.
"Take care while I drop it, Dick!" he called, and shortly afterwards
descended to the ground.
The vine was quickly trimmed so as to free it from useless growth, and,
dragging it after them, the lads once more went to the brink of the pit
that had proved a trap for the members of the exploring party.
When this substitute for a rope was lowered it was found to be quite
long enough for their purpose. One of the men immediately started to
climb, and what before had seemed an insurmountable task now became
easy.
Ten minutes later both had been rescued from their predicament. They
were shivering from exposure and fright, and the first thing the boys
did was to make a small fire in a depression amidst the rocks, over
which some water was heated, and a pannikin of tea brewed.
When the men had eaten something, and washed it down with liberal
portions of the hot tea, Roger could hold back no longer. He wanted to
learn what had happened, and how they had become separated from Jasper
Williams.
The men had evidently been through a rough experience, and seemed to
have lost all inclination to proceed any further into the unknown
country of mysteries. Indeed, from certain words that they had dropped,
it was plain nothing could induce them to return. They meant to head
directly toward the camp near the Mandan village.
This being the case, Dick was anxious to learn all he could before the
separation came about, and so he did not attempt to chide Roger on
account of the other's impatience when he burst out with:
"Now please tell us what it was all about, and who pursued Jasper
Williams at the time you saw him last?"
Hardy seemed to be the best talker, for it was he who answered.
"The Indians came down on us when we were not expecting an attack,"
he explained, looking somewhat humiliated, for a frontiersman was apt
to feel a blush of shame when compelled to admit that for once his
vigilance had relaxed.
"Were you in camp at the time?" asked Roger.
"Yes, close to the river," Hardy continued. "We had been seeing some
wonderful things, and Jasper seemed to believe there were others even
more amazing beyond. Then, like a bolt out of the clear sky, they
dropped down on us. Some sprang from the bushes, while others appeared
on the river in canoes made from dugout logs."
He drew a long breath, as though the recollection of that sudden attack
would give him a bad feeling for a long time to come.
"But you must have snatched up your guns and fought them?" pursued
Roger, who could not picture Jasper Williams doing anything less, since
he had the reputation of being an unusually valiant borderman.
"That was what we did," replied Hardy. "After shooting and wounding
some of our enemies we clubbed our guns and strove to beat our way
clear of the howling pack. In some fashion Jasper became separated from
us. We managed to burst through the Indians, and fled for the thickest
of the neighboring woods. Somehow we did not seem to be pursued, and,
wondering at that, I looked over my shoulder, hearing the yells of the
savages growing fainter."
"Yes, and what did you see?" Roger demanded.
"Jasper had managed to leap into one of their canoes, and was paddling
like mad up the rough water of the Yellowstone, with the other boats in
hot pursuit. They vanished from our sight around a bend in the stream,
but for a long time we could hear the sound of distant yells when the
wind turned that way."
"You do not know certainly, then, that Jasper was captured or killed?"
Dick asked.
"We cannot say," replied Hardy. "All we thought about then was to get
away from that region, and start back to the camp. We have seen enough
of this wild country to satisfy us. By accident we managed in the
darkness of the night to fall into that hole, and we have been held
prisoners there ever since, suffering all the tortures of cold, hunger
and despair. When we heard you call out it seemed to us the finest
sound we had ever listened to."
The men had finished their meal by now, and seemed anxious to make a
start over the back trail. Dick did not attempt to influence them to
change their decision, for he knew it would be futile. As they had both
lost their powder-horns in the fight, and their long-barreled guns were
useless without ammunition, he managed to spare a small amount of the
precious stuff, enough to give them several charges apiece.
"You can shoot game, and live in that way until you reach camp," he
told them as he watched both men eagerly load their guns. "But what of
these Indians who attacked your party--they were not of the Sioux or
the Mandan tribes, I take it?"
"No--Blackfeet, and hard fighters," the man replied. "I do not believe
they would have allowed us to escape, only that they seemed most
anxious to get Jasper Williams, for all of them pursued him, some in
boats and the rest on land."
This struck Dick as peculiar. Why should Jasper Williams count any more
with the hostile Blackfeet than the other two explorers? His hair would
make a no better looking scalp than theirs!
Dick was still pondering over this as he shook the two men by the hand
and expressed the hope that they would meet with no further troubles
until they gained the camp and gave his message to Captain Lewis.
"Have you arrived at any conclusion, Hardy," he observed, "as to why
the Indians should want to capture Jasper Williams so badly that they
would neglect you two, and even let you escape?"
"We talked that over, Mordaunt and myself, while we were in the pit,"
came the answer, "and both of us decided that the men who were with the
Blackfeet must have hated our companion, and had promised a reward to
the redskins if he was captured. That only would explain the mystery,
we thought."
"Why, were there white men with the Indians?" cried Dick, beginning to
see a gleam of light. "Were they English, or frontiersmen, or French?"
"They must have been French, because we heard them calling out, and it
was in that language. They seemed wild with anger because Jasper had
not fallen into their hands. In the boats they kept shouting to the
paddlers, and urging them to greater exertion. Yes, the Frenchmen must
hate our companion, and I fear he will never live to come back to us
again."
As the two men walked away, heading toward the northeast, Dick and
Roger exchanged significant looks, for they now knew the worst.
CHAPTER XI
ON THE BANK OF THE YELLOWSTONE
"BAD news for us, Dick," muttered Roger, shaking his head despondently.
"I am sorry it had to happen," the other remarked; "but while there's
life there's hope. Jasper is no novice in woodcraft. Those Frenchmen
and their red allies will find it no easy task to capture him. And even
if they should we are bound to try to bring about his release."
"It must have been that François Lascelles and his rascally son,
Alexis, surely," ventured Roger.
"Yes, I am sure of it," Dick admitted, frowning.
"They were not satisfied with destroying the paper we had sent home,
but came back to keep us from getting Jasper to sign another. Oh! they
are determined to steal our homes away from us! They will stop at
nothing to take them!"
"All is not lost yet. Remember that we have always managed to pull
through in times past. We shall again; something seems to tell me so."
When Dick said this he looked so determined and resolute that, as
usual, Roger found his own spirits wonderfully revived.
"I complain a lot, I know," he remarked, as though ashamed of
his actions, "but all the same I give up hard. Deep down there's
a never-say-die feeling in my heart. When you say we will keep
everlastingly at it you express what I feel."
Both felt better after that. They knew that it was useless to pay any
further attention to the faint trail of Jasper Williams and his two
companions. They must trust partly to luck in order to once more run
across the man they so urgently desired to see.
"One thing we must remember," said Dick, as they again set forth on
their way.
"What is that?" asked Roger.
"We have come to know Jasper fairly well since joining the exploring
company, and helping him to escape from Running Elk's Sioux. We even
know some of his signals, and if we have any reason to believe he is
around we can make use of them to communicate with him."
"That is a good idea," agreed Roger. "Even if he is a prisoner we
could let him know friends were near by using the secret call. But we
seem to be making for the bank of the river; tell me what plan you have
in mind now."
"You heard me ask Hardy about the exact place they were set upon by the
Blackfeet? That is where we must go first of all. Trail we have none,
for the last seen of Jasper he was on the water, which leaves no track.
But, starting from that point we will follow up the river until we find
something."
"We could not do better, I am sure," acknowledged the other, and Mayhew
nodded his head as though he also concurred in the plan.
"If the Frenchmen are Lascelles and his son," continued Dick, as they
trudged along, "they would not care if Jasper were killed, so long as
he could not interfere again in their scheme to defraud our parents out
of their property."
"Yes," added Roger, impulsively, "and, should our friend be captured,
they would influence the Blackfeet to carry him far away to their
village in the Northwest country, where he would be made to adopt their
ways and become an Indian warrior. Either that, or else he would be
burned at the stake, after their usual custom with prisoners of war."
"We are close to the river," Dick announced.
The Yellowstone is a very turbulent stream, especially far up toward
where it has its source in the great lake of the same name. It rushes
down over its rocky bed with numerous cataracts, making navigation
impossible to any but canoes managed by the most experienced paddlers.
The fretting of its current was plainly audible long before the little
party arrived on the bank. Above and below, it wound in and out, seldom
keeping a direct course for half a mile, such was the roughness of the
country through which it found a passage.
Without wasting any time in admiring the wonderful picture that was
now spread out before them, the three scouts turned up-stream, and
continued to advance. They were anxious to reach the scene of the fight
between Jasper Williams's little band and the Blackfeet, set upon them
by the unscrupulous French traders.
Having now been made aware of the fact that hostile Indians were
roaming the vicinity, they exercised more caution than up to this time
had marked their pilgrimage into the unknown land.
An hour--two of them--passed, and thus far nothing had occurred to
disturb their peace of mind. All this time they had continued pushing
forward. Occasionally they would make a little roundabout passage so as
to clear an open glade where the danger of discovery was imminent. No
discordant yells from savage throats arose to thrill them.
"It seems to be a long way off, Dick," ventured Roger, who evidently
had not taken into consideration the fact that at the time of the
attack Williams and his companions were something like half a day's
journey along.
"We must be getting close to the place now," he was assured. "I was
just deciding that the next bend in the river would turn out to be
where they made their camp. Hardy told us, you remember, that they had
hardly settled down there last evening when they were attacked."
"Yes, it was an hour before sunset," he said. "They were feeling tired,
and the chance for a fine camp tempted them to stop long before dark
came on. Hardy tried to describe the place to us, and I suppose you
think you can recognize it from the way the trees hang out over the
water?"
"That is what I settled in my mind; but we'll soon know. Given half an
hour and we should be there."
The time dragged with the always impetuous Roger; but finally they
arrived at the bend of the river indicated. All immediately began to
look for signs to prove that the men had camped there.
A joyous exclamation from keen-eyed Roger announced that he had found
the dead ashes of a fire in a little depression among the rocks. Then
the others discovered footprints of moccasined feet, many of them in
the softer places where the earth was not yet frozen.
"Here are the tracks of Indians, for they all toe in," Dick observed,
stating a fact that was well known to every pioneer boy of the day.
"Toeing-in" was invariably the sign of an Indian, though of course some
bordermen had also taken to that method of walking, which is supposed,
to be the natural way.
"And these others were made by whites, either our friends or the
Frenchmen," added Roger, quick to pick out those that differed from the
first type.
"I am looking for the track of Jasper," Dick told him, as he continued
to move this way and that, his eyes searching the ground as he neared
the bank of the river.
"But tell me how you would know his trail from any other? Most
moccasins make pretty much the same kind of a mark, I've always
believed."
"Well, Williams's do not, it happens," the other explained. "I thought
you must have noticed it as we came along. He bought the pair he is
wearing from a Mandan squaw. They have a queer seam across the middle.
I never saw one like it before, and I think that is the track now."
He pointed to the ground, and Roger, looking, gave a cry of
satisfaction.
"It certainly is as you say, and here must be where Jasper jumped when
he made for the water, and sprang into one of the dugouts. See, in
many places his footprints are partly covered by those of the pursuing
Blackfeet."
"And this must be where he found the canoe into which he jumped,"
continued Dick, as he showed his companion a slight depression in the
sand.
Both stood and looked up the turbulent river. The water tumbled over
the rocks that thrust their heads above the surface in many places;
it even leaped high in the air and sent out clouds of spray where a
cataract could be seen over toward the other shore. But whatever secret
it held it gripped tightly, and neither of the boys could lift the
veil.
"I wish we knew what happened up there, and if Jasper did get away, or
was taken by those plotting French traders and their red allies," mused
Roger.
"Well, it will do no good for us to stop here and wish," his companion
told him. "There is work to be done, and the sooner we start the
quicker we can reach the end. One thing is sure, if Jasper is alive,
whether free or a prisoner, we will find him!"
There was no need of lingering any longer, since they had learned all
that could be ascertained. It fitted in with the story told by the two
men who had been Jasper Williams's companions.
"It seems to me our next best course would be to keep along the border
of the river," remarked Dick. "If those who were in the canoes came
ashore it would likely be on this side of the stream, because it seems
to be a better channel than on the other side.
"Besides, if we watch out we can see the marks left by those of the
Blackfeet who ran along the shore expecting to head Jasper off; though
I don't think they could do that, because in many places they would
have to pass around deep coves that lead many rods inland."
For some time they followed the river. Now and then they managed to
discover some tracks of the Indians, but at the end these seemed to be
missing, and it was concluded that the band must have left the stream
to pass further back in the country.
Unable to find any trace of them, the boys were placed in the position
of not knowing whether Jasper had been taken or not. The going became
so difficult, and the hope of reward so slight, that in the end they
determined it would be best to also leave the river, and take to the
higher ground.
Here they could wander about, constantly on the watch for some sign
that would indicate a temporary camping place of those whom they
sought. If a wisp of trailing smoke caught their attention it would do
much to locate the resting place of the Indians. They must eat, and
particularly the Frenchmen would desire a warm meal, so that in this
way those who sought them might be rewarded for their vigilance.
Hope was struggling with despair in Roger's heart. Look as he might, he
could not see any silver lining to the dark cloud. Still, the energy
and resolution that his companion continued to show buoyed up his own
sinking spirits to a considerable extent.
They had now left the river far behind, and had entered upon a new
phase of their journey. Several times at stated intervals they had
heard that singular deep throated rumble, and felt the ground tremble
under their feet. Whatever it could be that caused this strange sound,
they were evidently approaching the scene of its mysterious operations,
and might come upon it at any time.
It was about the middle of the afternoon when Mayhew uttered the low
hiss which they had settled on as a warning of danger. At that instant
Roger and Dick also caught glimpses of flitting figures amidst the
forest trees, which they knew must be Indians.
CHAPTER XII
UNEXPECTED HELP
THE three dropped to the ground, where they flattened themselves out
so as to be as inconspicuous as possible. Of course the prospect of
approaching trouble caused the hearts of the boys to beat doubly fast,
but they managed to control themselves.
"Do you think they saw us?" whispered Roger, finding his head close to
that of his comrade.
"We will soon know," replied the other, in the same cautious manner.
"They have not given a single yelp as yet. But Mayhew is beckoning
to us. He wants us to crawl along after him, where these bushes will
shield us."
They kept as close to the ground as possible while making progress.
Now and then one of them would carefully raise his head to take an
observation. When this chanced to be Dick, his cousin invariably
whispered an inquiry in his ear, which the other answered with a
movement of the head.
They could hardly believe that the keen-eyed Indians had failed to
notice their presence, though it did seem strange that they should have
refrained from announcing their delight at the discovery in fierce
yelps, as was their custom.
Mayhew undoubtedly had some sort of plan in mind when he beckoned the
others to follow. He was an experienced scout, and knew as much about
the tricky ways of the red men as any borderer of his time. It was on
this account that Captain Clark had suggested that he accompany the
boys on this trip, as well as to allow Mayhew a chance to repair the
damage his blunder had done to their cause.
Three times he abruptly changed his course. Evidently he had a reason
for this, and Dick suspected that the guide must have discovered the
enemy to be lying in wait for them ahead.
It was thrilling, but tiresome. Roger found himself wishing heartily
that something would happen to break the silence. It seemed to be
oppressive, to be weighing him down as with a heavy load. Indeed, to
the impulsive lad almost anything would be preferable to this terrible
stillness.
It was while Roger was allowing himself to give way to this feeling,
and wondering whether, after all, it might not do better if they
sprang to their feet and ran for it, that something did occur, and of a
nature to surprise him.
Crouching at the foot of a tree, and just about to slowly get to his
knees in order to take an observation, Roger suddenly felt himself
pulled down. Dick had seized his hunting tunic, and given it a quick,
strong tug.
At the same instant Roger heard an odd, whistling sound that seemed to
come from a point very close to his ear; this in turn was succeeded by
a little thud, such as one might make when striking his hunting knife
against the bark of a tree.
As the boy twisted his head around, his wondering eyes fell upon
something that caused him to draw in a long quavering breath. It was
the feathered shaft of a Blackfoot arrow that had its flint head buried
deep in the yielding wood of the tree. In order to have reached that
spot it must have passed only a few inches above Roger's body.
Then the Indians _did_ know of their presence; the fact of this shaft
having been sent in their direction told the story. Roger somehow found
himself wondering if those stories he had heard about the Blackfoot
warriors poisoning the tips of their war arrows could have any
foundation in truth. It was not a pleasant thought when they found
themselves at bay, surrounded by an unknown number of the savage
tribesmen.
But Mayhew was once more creeping on; if he did not wish to be left
behind he must follow in the wake of the guide.
Dick brought up the rear. It may have been accident that brought this
about, and, then again, perhaps the boy had some design in taking his
place at the end of the line. He knew the impulsive ways of his cousin,
and that there was always a chance that Roger might get himself into
trouble through lack of caution.
Possibly the guide had knowledge of some locality that lay a short
distance beyond, where they could defend themselves better than in
the open. The face of the country was rough, and in many places rocks
cropped out that could be made to serve those who were surrounded by
perils.
Once again was the whistle of a feathered shaft heard, though this
time it simply cut through the bushes over their heads, and found no
lodgment in the trunk of a tree.
This was the second narrow escape they had had. It was not to be
expected that such good fortune would continue. Other arrows were
bound to be fired, and at any minute one better aimed than the rest
might find lodgment in a human body.
Roger gritted his teeth savagely as he crept on. How he wished Mayhew
would come to a pause, thus signifying he had done all he could to
further their escape, and was now at the end of his rope! Then they
could rise up, and use their guns upon the crafty enemy, following with
the pistols they also carried, and which at short range would count for
just as much as the rifles.
Was the ground actually trembling underneath, or did his own shaky
condition deceive him? Roger could not decide this question off hand.
It seemed to him that, when he placed a hand on the rocks, it felt a
warmth that was unmistakable. At any other time he would have wanted
to stop to discover why this should be so; but the conditions by which
they were surrounded just then would hardly permit such a waste of
precious seconds.
In imagination Roger could see the Indians creeping up, bows and arrows
in hand, waiting until a certain point had been reached, when they
would give a concerted whoop, and rush to the attack.
He wondered if they had ever heard a gun fired at close quarters and,
if not, whether the sound would alarm them. It had proved to be the
case in other instances he had heard old trappers mention, where they
were saved through the fear shown by the savages at hearing the crash,
and seeing the flash, when guns had been discharged.
Ah! that was a third arrow he heard hurtling past, and it must have
shivered into splinters against that rock when it struck. Either the
marksmen were sending their missiles at random, or else they had some
design in thus driving the three crouching whites forward. Was there
some sort of a trap beyond, into which they might fall? Roger was of
half a mind to turn on Dick, and demand that they change their method
of retreat into one of open defiance.
There was no need of his taking this step, because circumstances
decided for him. Even as he was hesitating, and more than half inclined
to force the issue, there broke out such ear-piercing yells as neither
of the two boys had ever heard before.
To Roger's mind that settled it, once and for all. Further flight was
useless--at least, flight of the slow and hesitating type they had
been trying to carry out. If they chose to try to escape without a
fight, then they must take to their heels, dodging to the right and the
left so as to avoid the rain of arrows that was sure to follow them.
To scramble to their feet was the work of an instant. All held their
weapons ready for immediate use, because they believed they would have
need of them, with the enemy charging from several points at once.
When Roger looked around he found it hard to decide where to send
the bullet his gun carried. Here and there he could catch glimpses
of flashing forms as they darted from rock to rock; but all these
movements were executed with such surprising quickness that, although
he several times started to raise his rifle, before he could obtain any
sort of aim the object of his attention had vanished.
Perhaps the quivering tip of a colored feather worn in the hair of an
agile brave would be seen above the crown of the sheltering rock, but
it would be folly to waste ammunition on such a will-o'-the-wisp target.
The worst of the matter was that all this time the dodging foes were
gradually drawing their ring closer and closer around the three
whites. Every time a flitting copper-colored figure flashed across
a little opening, to disappear again behind other shelter, it was
shortening by just so much the distance separating the two hostile
parties.
Arrows were beginning to hurtle past their heads, too, as some of
the red men found opportunities to use their bows. That none of the
palefaces had thus far been struck was more a matter of good luck than
anything else.
Mayhew did not mean to stand there and wait for the coming of all those
skulking warriors. He knew that there must be a score of them, all
told, and, should it come to a hand-to-hand combat he and his young
companions would have but a sorry chance to hold their own, much less
be victors in the encounter.
In one direction, alone, could he seem to discover an opening, where
for some reason the Indians had failed to cover the ground.
"Follow me, lads, and duck as you run!" he shouted at the top of his
voice, at the same time starting off at a furious pace.
Then began a curious race, with the three fugitives jumping from side
to side as they ran, hoping in this way to escape being hit by any
arrows that might be sent after them.
Some of the Indians halted to make use of their bows, but the main body
kept after the three fugitives. If the worst came, of course the whites
could suddenly whirl about, and do some execution with their firearms,
though Mayhew knew that it would never do to let the pursuers approach
so close as to be able to hurl their stone-headed tomahawks, with which
they could split a willow wand, if placed against a tree, at twenty
paces.
Mayhew figured that they would be able to reach the spot he had picked
out for a stand, if nothing happened to upset his plans. Once there,
if they poured a deadly volley in among their pursuers, and followed
that up with a second from their small arms, the Indians might become
demoralized.
It might have worked as he hoped, but the chances were that the Indians
would have immediately dodged, and in this way escaped the full effect
of the bombardment. Then, when the firearms were empty, they would push
their advantage, and numbers must surely tell.
The yells were still rising discordantly behind them, when Dick began
to notice a decided change to their intonation. What had before seemed
only an outbreak of savage rage now had turned to wonder, and even
deadly fear.
[Illustration: "BEFORE THEM THEY SAW A MIGHTY COLUMN OF STEAMING WATER"]
There was also something else that caused the boy to turn his head, in
order to cast a backward look. No sooner had he done this than Dick
came to a full stop, his loud shouts attracting the attention of his
two companions, and causing them to copy his example.
No longer were the eager Indian braves chasing madly after their
intended quarry; on the contrary, each and every warrior seemed bent
on running like mad in the opposite direction, as though pursued by a
legion of evil spirits.
To the whites there was no mystery in regard to the fright of the
ignorant and superstitious Blackfoot braves, for before them they saw
a mighty column of steaming water gushing fully a hundred feet up into
the air, to descend in an imposing flood. As if an unseen hand had
directed it, the giant geyser had spouted just in time to come between
the hostile Indians and their intended victims!
CHAPTER XIII
DEEPER INTO THE WONDERLAND
"OH! it must all be true, Dick!"
These words burst from Roger's lips as he stood gazing at the wonderful
sight. Of course he referred to the strange tales which they had heard
from some of the Mandans, and which also passed current among the
frontiersmen connected with the expedition.
Dick was hardly less staggered than his cousin, and, as for Mayhew, he
had the look of one who believed himself face to face with the spirit
world.
As they shrank back and watched the amazing fountain pour its flood
toward the sky, and heard the thunder of the falling water, strange
thoughts flitted through their minds.
"Look, Dick, it's slackening now!" cried Roger, presently, though he
had to exercise his vocal cords considerably in order to make himself
heard above the tumult of the gushing geyser.
"Yes, I believe it is about to stop!" echoed the other boy, not
without perceptible relief in his tones.
All at once they realized that the flow of steaming water had ended as
abruptly as it had begun. The pool was still agitated at the spot where
the base of the pillar of water had been located, but the terrible
geyser had ceased to flow. (Note 3.)
By degrees the two boys began to recover from the stagnation of mind
and body into which they had been thrown.
"Come, the danger seems to be past,--for the present, at least,"
remarked Dick; "let us look into this thing while we have the chance."
"Just as you say," replied Roger, eagerly. "After this, when any one
speaks of these unbelievable things, we can tell what we have seen with
our own eyes; and how we were saved from the Indian attack by that
fountain of hot water."
With considerable uneasiness, however, the two approached the spot
where the base of the water-spout had been. As for Mayhew, nothing
could tempt him to advance a single step. Indeed, he shook his head
several times in a doubtful fashion, as though he believed it the
height of folly for the others to take their lives in their hands in
such a reckless way.
"Why, there's a hole in the solid rock, Dick, and it all came out of
that!" Roger exclaimed, after they had drawn close enough to be able to
see.
"It had to come from some sort of cavity, of course," remarked Dick,
"and that hole is the place. I think it must ascend once in so often,
for here is a regular runway where the water passes off. And to think
that this same thing may have been going on for years!"
They listened to ascertain whether they could detect any sign of a
great disturbance down in the aperture, but without very much success.
Now that it was all over, the boys began to regain their courage, which
had in fact been greatly shaken by the gushing of the mighty geyser.
"The Indians have all fled, which is one comfort," observed Roger,
presently.
"Yes, it was too much for them," added his companion. "They believe
these things are caused by the Evil Spirit that dwells inside the
earth, and that he must have been angry at them because they tried to
capture or kill us."
"As usual, we have been lucky; when even the water-spouts stand back of
us, what have we to fear?"
"But now that all is quiet, the Indians may pluck up courage enough to
return," Dick suggested. "We must not take too many chances by staying
here. Another time the water might not come in time to save us."
"I would like to stay long enough to watch it rise again," Roger
objected; "but then you are right, and it would be folly. There may be
others like this in this Wonderland. If half the Indians tell is true,
we have many more things to see that will make us open our eyes. I am
ready to believe almost anything after this."
"Watch Mayhew, Roger, and you will see that we cannot get away from
here any too soon to suit him."
"No, he keeps standing first on one foot and then on the other, while
he looks to the right and left. I really think he has already picked
out which way he will run if it should break loose again."
"And neither of us can blame him," added Dick, "for you know that most
of his life he has associated only with Indians, and such rough men of
the border as ignorant fur-takers and half-breeds. He thinks about the
same as they do about all things hard to understand, and that spirits
can come back after death. Our mothers taught us differently, but we
should not condemn those who do not know any better."
"He is a brave man, and he means to stand with us to the end," said
Roger. "Only for that he would have run away as swiftly as the Indians
did. But, Dick, do you believe this was the cause of that heavy
rumbling we heard some time back?"
"I couldn't say. It may have been, for you remember that the noise
seemed to come and go, at intervals."
"And the trembling of the rocks under our feet, too! That must have
been caused by something like this. The hot spring where we said we
could have cooked an egg, or made our tea, that may have been the
overflow from here, or another fountain like it."
"All we know is that those stories told by the Indians had a foundation
in fact. And yet, most people will believe we have simply imagined
these things when we tell them what we have seen and heard."
"Yes," sighed Roger, "I only wish there was some way to show them.
Seeing is believing, mother always says."
But unfortunately this all happened early in the nineteenth century,
and the camera, by which those amazing geysers might have been caught
in action, and displayed to people at the other side of the world, had
not even taken form in the brain of the most advanced inventor.
Slowly the lads walked back to where the guide awaited their coming.
Mayhew looked relieved when they rejoined him. Apparently he had been
dubious as to whether they would be allowed to return; he may even have
suspected that the angry gods who sent that gushing fountain soaring
two hundred feet into the air might stretch out their arms and drag the
lads into the yawning crater, to be served as a sacrifice.
Which way to head now was rather a difficult question to answer. If it
were left entirely to the discretion of Mayhew, Dick feared the guide
might take it into his head to veer around and start back toward the
camp, believing that in so doing he would be serving the interests of
the boys best by possibly saving their lives.
Consequently Dick meant to keep his hand on the helm, and do most of
the directing. Captain Clark had instructed the guide to put himself
entirely at the disposal of the boys, so that in reality it was Dick's
place to do the ordering.
Looking around them, it was hard to tell which way they had better
go. Everything was so strange that although, of course, they knew
the points of the compass, and in a general way could understand that
they must have come in from the east, still who could say whether the
beckoning west was their wisest goal, or some other direction?
"We had better try to keep on, and find that valley toward which
Jasper Williams was headed," urged Dick, after they had consulted. "He
is a stubborn man in his way, and, even though deserted by both his
companions, I believe he would push straight on, so that he might boast
of having reached the place he started for."
"And if the Blackfeet have failed to capture or kill him," ventured
Roger, "we may find him there--of course granting that we reach that
Happy Valley ourselves."
That point having been decided, they started. It was not long, however,
before they began to realize that amidst those remarkable cones and
thickets and rocky defiles it was a most difficult thing to keep their
bearings.
"It seems as though we had come over this part of the ground before,"
admitted Dick, "for familiar objects turn up on every hand; and yet how
can that be when we have kept going straight into the northwest for
nearly an hour now?"
"There is something wrong about it all, I'm afraid, boys," declared the
guide, with a distrustful shrug of his broad shoulders. "I'm thinking
we will meet with some queer experiences before we see another sunrise.
As for myself, I am wondering whether any of us will get through it
alive."
It was not the hostile Indians that caused Mayhew to say this, nor yet
the fact that all sorts of wild beasts doubtless roamed these wild
places by night. He was accustomed to taking his chances with such
ordinary perils, and scorned them as a true-hearted borderer must. But,
deep down in his honest heart, Mayhew feared the supernatural. What he
could not understand stood for something dreadful, that sent the cold
chill of apprehension up and down his backbone.
"Listen, there is the spouting water at it again!" exclaimed Roger.
True enough, they could catch a deep-throated rumbling sound that
seemed to make the very atmosphere vibrate. But Dick immediately made a
discovery which he voiced in excited words:
"If that be so," he told them, "what miracle is this; for we surely
hear that sound ahead of us, and all this while we have been in the
belief that the great water-spout lay back yonder toward the east!"
That afforded Mayhew another opportunity to look worried.
"It's black magic, that's what I believe. The east has become the west!
We have all been turned around, and right now I cannot say which way
I am looking, although I can see the sun hanging up there above that
glittering peak."
"Dick, what can it mean?" demanded Roger, uneasily.
"I can think of but one explanation!" declared the other, steadily.
"That is not the same spouting water we heard just now! You remember
that we decided there might be others of the same kind in this country
of wonders."
It almost seemed as though nature took delight in proving the accuracy
of Dick Armstrong's surmise; for, hardly had he said this, than they
heard once again the remarkable throb of rushing waters pouring forth
from a fissure in the crust of the earth and, what was more, it came
from some point toward the rear!
Roger smiled faintly, while even Mayhew condescended to let some of the
worried look pass away from his face.
"I should not like to roam about this terrible country after
nightfall," said Roger, shuddering; "for there is too much danger of
stepping into some bottomless pit, or having a deluge of boiling water
thrown over your head. It's a question up here in the winter-time
whether you are going to be frozen to death in a bitter storm, or
roasted by the fires that are under the earth. I think we must be
getting pretty close to where the Evil One lives, Dick. His workshop
may be around these hills, for all we know."
Dick, however, shook his head. He was proof against all belief in the
supernatural. Such wonders as had been encountered on the trip he felt
sure were after all but the products of an eccentric nature. Though
they might strike one as bewildering at first, familiarity would dull
this feeling of amazement, though it could never breed contempt.
"We have a short time still before the sun sinks," remarked Dick;
"shall we go on further or spend the night here?"
"I'd rather find a better place if it's the same to you," Roger started
to say, when to his astonishment Dick suddenly clutched him by the
arm, and started to drag him away.
At the same moment Roger became aware of a peculiar and alarming sound,
as though loose rocks and shale were slipping down an abrupt slope.
CHAPTER XIV
THE LANDSLIDE
ROGER tripped over some obstacle, so that both he and Dick fell flat on
their faces, though neither had the misfortune to be injured other than
to receive minor bruises.
"Why, what happened then?" gasped Roger, as he sat up and commenced to
rub one of his elbows.
Mayhew had evidently also leaped hurriedly back, for he was crouching
near the two boys, staring fixedly at some point just beyond, and
looking not only puzzled but deeply concerned.
"There was some sort of slip in the rock at the edge of that hole,"
explained Dick, breathing hard after his sudden exertion. "I was afraid
the whole platform might be about to fall into the abyss, and that was
why I dragged you back. It was better to be on the safe side, you know."
"What will cross our path next, I wonder?" grumbled Roger. "We seem to
be jumping from the frying pan into the fire. First it is Indians who
are about to wipe us out; then we come near being boiled in a pyramid
of steaming water, and, as if that were not enough, here we have a
narrow escape from being dropped into a bottomless pit."
"It's nip and tuck which sort of end will get us sooner or later,"
remarked Mayhew soberly; almost as though he had made up his mind that
there was no use of resisting his manifest destiny.
"Let's get away from this horrible place as soon as we can, Dick,"
urged Roger. "As to spending the night here, you will have to excuse
me! We had better shoulder our packs and--oh! where are they, Dick? I
am sure I laid mine down at the time we stopped to take a look around."
Dick looked deeply worried.
"Yes, the three of us did the same thing. As you say, they have
disappeared, and I fear we have lost our blankets and provisions and
extra ammunition."
His words created a panic in the breast of his comrade, for Roger
scrambled to his feet from his knees, clutching the sleeve of Dick's
deerskin hunting tunic, and crying out:
"Oh! can it be possible that they were carried down with that avalanche
when the slip occurred? And do you think we can recover them again?"
"I hope so," replied the other lad, soberly, "for it will be a serious
thing for us if we lose all we had in those packs. But we must be
careful how we approach the edge, if it crumbles so easily. We would
not care to be carried after our blankets, riding an avalanche!"
Cautiously picking their way, they finally managed to creep to where
they could look down into the yawning abyss. It filled them with
awe and despair. So far as they could see the walls were almost
perpendicular, and extended far beyond their limited range of vision.
"We could never get down there alive," Roger confessed, as he looked
shudderingly into the chasm that had swallowed up their valued
possessions. "And I am afraid we have seen the last of those blankets."
"Of course," said the other, consolingly, "once we return to the camp
we can obtain warm furs from the Indians, that will take their place
for sleeping purposes."
"But what are we to do now," reasoned Roger, "far away from the Mandan
village, and so situated that we dare not build a camp fire at night,
no matter how bitter cold it turns?"
"That is a hard question for me to answer," Dick admitted, candidly.
"If it comes to the worst, of course we can turn back, and give over
our hunt for Jasper Williams. If he should change his mind and return
to the camp all would be well. On the other hand, if he stayed out the
main part of the winter, or the Indians were holding him a prisoner, we
would stand to lose all we had won."
"And our dear parents must see their homes taken away from them by that
rascally Lascelles," groaned Roger, grinding his teeth in his distress.
"Dick, sooner than allow that, I would try to stay out here all winter,
taking my chances with the wolves, the Indians, and these terrible
things that surround us on every side."
"Remember our old motto, Roger, that carried us through so many
troubles in the past--never despair, no matter how black the skies
look. We will come out on top yet,--we _must_!"
"Do you think that awful hole can have any bottom, Dick?"
For answer the other dropped a large bit of rock, being careful to cast
it far out from the wall underneath them.
It seemed a long time before they believed they caught the faintest
kind of sound away down in the black depths.
"Why, it must be nearly half a mile deep!" cried the astonished Roger.
"We can never hope to see our things again, for a fact."
"I'm afraid that's the truth," admitted Dick. "It is a great
misfortune, but we must face it bravely. 'There are more ways than one
to skin a cat,' you know Jasper used to say; and, while things look
dark for us just now, we can find a way out, never fear."
They backed away carefully, not wishing to start another slide that
might carry them down to keep company with the lost outfit. At least
they had their guns, and a fair stock of ammunition to fall back on.
Besides this they were warmly dressed, and able to resist to some
extent the attack of the wintry winds.
Dick brought this to the attention of his companions as they trudged
onward. He was always finding some reason for plucking up hope;
conditions, according to Dick's healthy mind, were never so had but
that they might be worse.
Some time later they drew up, Mayhew suggesting that they could hardly
find a better place to spend the night than where they were. A small
stream ran past, and it was cold water, too, as they soon discovered.
"Trout in it!" Mayhew announced, as though he had something on his
mind, "and if you say the word, I think I can get a few of them. The
season is late; but, since winter is still holding off, they may bite
at a bait."
"It would be a good idea," returned Dick, "since we have lost all our
supplies we will have to get food by all sorts of means. Our guns
should bring us in game, if only we dare fire them. Yes, try the
fishing, Mayhew, and good luck to you."
The guide had some hooks with him, for he always went prepared to
provide himself with a tasty meal from a convenient stream, being very
fond of fish. He also found some fragments of meat with which to bait
his hooks. While the others were making ready to start a small flame in
a depression, where it could not betray them to lurking enemies, Mayhew
began his angling.
Fortunately for the little party the trout were both hungry and
guileless. They had never had any acquaintance with such a thing as a
fish-hook. Perhaps, once in a long time, some passing Indian brave may
have used his primitive fish spear in order to secure a meal, but this
had failed to educate them in the wiles of the human race.
And so it came about that presently Mayhew proudly exhibited a
beautiful trout that, being freshly caught, seemed to glow with all the
colors of the rainbow.
"Two more like it would make us all a fine meal," said Dick, as he
surveyed the prize.
"I can get them, never fear, unless my cunning has deserted me," the
guide told him, confidently.
It proved that his boast was good, since a second fish was soon taken,
although they had to wait until almost dark before a third came to hook.
Meanwhile Roger had prepared the two already captured, and they were
all soon being held over the red coals lying in the hole that served
as a fireplace. Such experienced woodsmen as the adventurers were knew
how to cook meat and fish without any necessity for a frying-pan. Nor
would they miss salt with which to season it. A sharp appetite takes
the place of these things in the woods.
Perhaps all of them could have eaten more had they been given a chance;
for, although the trout had been of unusual size, they seemed to
disappear most miraculously, once the hungry campers started in to make
their supper.
This duty done, they faced another dilemma. How were they to keep warm
as they slept? Accustomed to snuggling down inside their blankets when
the wind whistled, it was not the nicest outlook to face a night in the
open, with no protection from the chilly air.
The worst of it was that they could not build a roaring fire to warm
them. Had that been possible, no one could have found any reason for
complaint; but it would be next door to madness, in the estimation of
the borderman, to have attempted it, with those hostiles not far away,
and ready to creep upon them as they slept.
Dick noted the rising wind with uneasiness. It was gradually swinging
around so as to come out of the northwest, too, and that was the point
where the wintry storms came from. When a gale blew from that quarter,
with a sting in its breath, wise people kept to their cabins, and
declined to venture forth until the worst had passed.
What would become of them should they be caught in this open camp,
without any fire, and destitute of robes or blankets? Dick expected
to hear Roger make some remark bearing on this matter, at any moment
now; for he knew the other must be beginning to shiver as he sat in
uncomfortable silence, evidently brooding over the many troubles by
which they were confronted, and trying to see a way out.
Mayhew was prowling about close by. It was not pitch dark, though one
must possess good eyes in order to see with any degree of accuracy.
"He's looking to see if we can better our condition," thought Dick,
when he had watched the guide examining a pile of rocks in the
immediate vicinity that may have been heaped up for some purpose by
Indians, years and years before.
Apparently Mayhew was not finding much encouragement in his search, for
Dick could hear him muttering rather disconsolately to himself, though
he did not seem disposed to give up entirely, being possessed of a
stubborn nature.
Soon Roger was rubbing his hands one over the other, which indicated
that he felt the cold. Dick's mental figuring had produced results, and
he believed a proposition he meant to offer would strike the others
favorably. He was only waiting for Roger to open the subject.
Presently Roger got up on his feet and commenced to thresh both arms
back and forth. It has always been known as a good means for starting
circulation when the blood is chilled from inaction; though Roger could
not obtain the best results on account of having to refrain from making
any more noise than was absolutely necessary.
Dick thought the time had arrived to make his suggestion. The wind
was blowing strongly by them, with every prospect of a still further
increase in velocity. If it kept up throughout the night the dawn
would turn out to be bitterly cold; and, unless they were able to find
shelter, they might perish.
"This is an exposed camp, don't you think, Roger?" he began.
"Yes, and unless we can have a fire I hate to think what will happen to
us before another day comes around," the other replied.
"Then we must make a change," Dick told him.
"That is easy to say, but where can we go that would be better?"
"I know a place," came the confident reply, "so get ready to go with
me, both of you."
CHAPTER XV
SHELTER FROM THE BITING NORTH WIND
"I AM glad to hear you say that, Dick; you always have some good news
when it gets bleak and black. And from the way I'm shivering I think
the sooner we make a move the better."
Mayhew had also heard the proposal with interest. Unfruitful though his
own search had proved, the news that one of the boys had made some sort
of discovery likely to benefit them sounded good to him.
"Where are going, Dick?" asked Roger, after they had started. "Unless
I'm mistaken we seem to be on the back trail."
"Where else could I take you, except to some place I had seen before?"
demanded the new guide. "But I know you must want to hear about it,
so listen. As we came along I happened to notice what looked like the
mouth of a cave. If it should turn out that way we can find shelter
within. It might even be possible for us to light a fire there."
"Caves are all right on a bad night, too," assented Roger. "We know,
for haven't we made use of one when overtaken by a storm? I only hope
it turns out to be something besides a little hole in the side of the
hill."
"I have hopes that it will prove to be much better than that."
"Is it far away?" continued the other, a little uneasily, for after
their late bitter experience, when the earth slide robbed them of their
packs, Roger had come to eye their surroundings with considerable
suspicion, and did not much fancy prowling around there in the darkness.
"Only a few minutes' walk," Dick assured him. "I want to make sure that
we do not pass it by, that is all."
He devoted himself to the task of keeping track of the trail as they
made their way along. Even Roger used his eyes the best he knew how,
hoping that he might be of some assistance.
"Here it is!" he was glad to hear Dick say, presently.
Both the others surveyed the spot with considerable interest. The rock
formation was peculiar in many ways. It looked as though at some remote
period, when the continent was in process of formation, upheavals
had forced numerous minor ridges of stone to assume the shape of
"hogbacks," as Mayhew called them.
It was toward one of these that Dick now pointed. Looking closely,
Roger fancied he could just detect what looked like a dark spot near
its base. He knew then that Dick must have noted some other land-mark
in order to find the place. No doubt the habit of observation which the
young pioneer cultivated, much as modern Boy Scouts are taught to do in
these days, had come in handy again, as he had often known it to do in
the past.
They pushed closer. There was an opening without any doubt. Just what
it led to, of course none of them could more than guess; but they had
hopes.
"One thing let us notice," ventured Roger. "Here is a dead tree, and if
we find it possible to build a fire inside we know where to come for
fuel."
"Good for you, Roger," the other lad hastened to say. "And now to try
and find out what awaits us here."
Dick insisted on being the leader. The discovery had been all his, and
it was therefore up to him to be the guide.
On hands and knees Dick crept carefully into the hole. He held his gun
in such a way that if it became necessary he could make quick use of
it. So far as he knew there was no peril hanging over their heads; but
it always pays to be ready.
Their progress was very slow, because they had to grope their way
along. Dick put out a hand and felt of the rock before trusting himself
to advance. He had no desire to find himself whirling through space,
after the manner of their lost packs, in case an unseen abyss yawned in
front of him.
This went on for several minutes. They had pushed some little distance
into the gaping aperture, and so far as could be ascertained there was
as yet no limit to the cave.
Dick arrived at the conclusion that they had gone far enough to admit
of a change in their method of procedure.
"I am going to strike a light, so keep still, please, both of you," he
announced.
Dick was always prepared for anything like this. His tinder, flint and
steel were handy, and he even had a small piece of tallow dip that
hardly deserved the name of candle, but which had a wick, and would
give out a faint glow if ignited.
To the boy of to-day this awkward means of producing a light would have
presented almost insurmountable difficulties, and ultimate success
might well be hailed as a wonderful feat. To the pioneer lads it was of
such daily occurrence that they thought nothing of accomplishing it.
In a very brief period of time Dick had clipped his flint and steel
together so as to send a shower of sparks into the tiny bit of
inflammable tinder, which began to smolder. This was blown until it
flamed up, when the wick of his tallow candle-end was thrust into the
blaze.
Looking around after they had obtained this sorry means of
illumination, the intruders could see that they were in a good-sized
cave. Ahead of them lay more dense gloom, which would seem to indicate
that the aperture amidst the rocks extended for an unknown distance
beyond.
"Well, this is a pretty good place to put in the night, when it's
getting cold enough out there to freeze your toes," said Roger.
"It's really comfortable in here," agreed Mayhew.
"That's because the rock is warm, if you have thought to notice it,"
Dick explained.
"Now that you mention it," remarked Roger, as he again dropped on all
fours to find out for himself, "I see it is a fact. Queer that I didn't
seem to notice it before. We really need no fire here, except that this
darkness could almost be cut with a knife."
"No danger, that I can see, of the light being observed out there,"
Mayhew told them, thus proving that he, too, was much in favor of
adding to their comfort, if it was to be accomplished at such a
trifling expenditure of time and labor.
"Shall I crawl out and fetch in some of that wood, Dick?" asked Roger,
and there was such pleading in his voice and manner that Dick could not
have refused him, even had he wanted to.
Accordingly Roger crawled away. Since there was a dim light in the cave
he did not find it so difficult to make his way toward the exit. Later
on he came back, with his arms full of fuel.
"You get the fire started where you think best, Dick, while I make
another trip for a second lot. We could keep ten fires supplied, and
not use half the supply outside."
"Could you see our light out there?" asked Dick.
"Not a thing," replied Roger. "The fact is, I had to do half of my
crawling in the dark, and only got the first glimpse of the light after
I was pretty well inside."
That took away the last doubt Dick may have been entertaining with
regard to the wisdom of having a fire.
"It will be easier for you the next time, if I get things going," he
told the fuel gatherer.
Mayhew, as though feeling that he ought to have a share in the labor,
this time followed the boy out of the cave, and also picked up a load
of the scattered wood. The tree must have been struck by lightning at
some time in the past, since the branches covered so much ground.
Dick had the fire well started by the time the others returned. They
could see the light plainly after passing the mouth of the cave,
although there seemed so little chance of it betraying their presence
that it was hardly worth considering.
How different things looked, with that cheery blaze going! The gloom
seemed much further removed than before. And, like the careful boy that
he was, Dick had extinguished his precious candle-end as soon as its
faint light was no longer needed. Time might yet make that worth its
weight in gold to him, since its like could only be obtained in some
settlement.
An hour later Dick, wishing to find out how the wind-storm might be
progressing, made his way to the opening and passed out. When he
returned he reported that the stars were still shining, and it was
getting very cold; as for the wind, it continued to roar across the
open country furiously, now coming out of the north.
"And let me tell you," he wound up by saying, "I builded better than
I knew at the time I happened to notice this cave mouth. In here it
is so comfortable one finds it hard to believe the cold is so intense
outside."
"For folks who have no blankets a cave is a very fine thing, I must
say," was Roger's comment.
Of course, almost all of their conversation was connected with the
immediate past, and the hope they entertained concerning a successful
termination of their hunt for Jasper Williams.
"You did not see anything to tell you the Indians might be camped near
here, I suppose, Dick?" Roger asked, as the other took his place once
more near the fire.
"No, although I looked in every direction," was the reply. "There is a
strange light over toward the west. You can see it in the sky. I do not
know how to describe it, except that once, when the forest was afire
down on the Missouri, we saw the same reflection. It may be there is a
prairie burning somewhere down that way. It would be a fearful sight, I
should think."
"And picture the buffalo, and the deer, and everything that runs,
fleeing from the flames!" added Roger, who possessed a lively
imagination. "I heard one of our men by the name of Fields tell about
the time he was caught in such a fire when far out on the open prairie,
hunting buffalo, and what a narrow escape he had."
"Yes, I remember what a strange thing he did to escape being burned
to death," Mayhew continued. "It seems that, as running was out of
the question, and the wall of fire was rushing toward him, Fields
discovered a little hollow in the surface of the prairie. Into that he
crawled, first dragging the buffalo he had just slain so that it would
cover his body, and serve as a shield against the passing fire."
"And did he escape without being badly burned?" asked Dick, deeply
interested, since it happened that he had never heard this story
before.
"Nothing worth mentioning, he told me," the guide continued. "Few men
would have been so wise as to think of such a thing; but then Fields is
as bright as a button. They say you can never catch a weasel asleep,
and I expect that would apply to him just as well."
This man, whom they were talking about, was one of those whose names
have been inscribed in history on the roll of fame, along with those
of Lewis and Clark, for he accompanied them on their wonderful
journey through thousands of miles of utterly unknown country, to the
far-distant Pacific, and return.
"How can we find a soft place to lie down on, please tell me, Dick?"
Roger asked, a little while later, as he ran his hand over the hard
rock, and shook his head as though the prospect were not very alluring.
Perhaps Dick meant to reply, even though he could hardly have suggested
any amelioration of the conditions; but, he was not given the chance
to open his mouth, as it happened, for just then an angry roar
sounded close at hand that made Roger suspect one of those terrible
water-spouts must be about to overwhelm them. He saw a bulky object
come sweeping toward them from the unexplored interior of the cave, and
then scatter the burning brands as it plowed through the little fire.
CHAPTER XVI
THE BATTLE IN THE CAVE
INSTINCTIVELY all of them guessed what the character of the intruder
must be. The terrible roar, and the glimpse they obtained of the great
hairy body ere the fire was scattered right and left betrayed it.
"A bear!" cried Roger, voicing the discovery of his companions as well
as his own.
All was confusion. Mayhew had been rather unfortunate, for he chanced
to be partly in the way of the onrushing beast as it made straight for
the fire, the presence of which in its den must have aroused its anger.
He was just in the act of scrambling to his feet when he was struck by
the beast's huge body, and was bowled over just as you may have seen a
pin hit by a speeding ball in the alley.
Dick had somehow managed to snatch up his gun when he gained his knees.
The place was now almost in darkness, since the burning brands had
been scattered far and wide. The body of the infuriated animal was so
bulky, however, that he could not fail to discern its outlines against
the wall, where a still flickering brand chanced to lie.
The boy knew that it was no time for hesitation. No matter what had
caused the animal to attack them, and even though the fire had been the
first object of its rage, those who were responsible for the intrusion
must come next on the list.
He thrust the long-barreled gun straight out, and, without waiting to
rest the butt against his shoulder, pulled the trigger as soon as he
felt the muzzle strike something yielding.
There was a muffled roar as the rifle was discharged. Dick, with the
hunter instinct, instantly threw himself aside, anticipating that the
wounded bear would turn upon him for revenge.
His shot had apparently not been a fatal one, though it brought another
of those dreadful roars from the occupant of the cave; and now, since
it was impossible for him to reload his gun unless given time, he would
have to cast it aside and resort to his hunting knife.
Roger had not quite lost his senses, although the abruptness of the
attack must have bewildered the boy. When he threw himself back out of
the way he somehow missed connection with his gun. That it was ever in
his mind was proved by the frantic way in which he instantly started to
grope about on the bare rock near his feet, as though in expectation of
finding it.
After all, it was the brilliant flash accompanying the discharge of
Dick's gun that showed Roger his own weapon. He quickly seized it, and
then turned to deliver his fire.
All this was taking place in much less time than it takes to read
it. The bear was certainly in deadly earnest, and evidently meant to
complete the job that had been undertaken with such fury.
Roger saw his chance to shoot, and was not neglectful of it. One
experience with a monster of this type had shown him the necessity
for sending his bullet to some vital spot, for he knew that a wounded
grizzly would never turn tail and run.
A kind fortune must have guided the shot, for, beyond a doubt, had it
failed in its mission, the fate of the boys would have been settled.
Shut up there in a cave in contact with a savage bear, armed with claws
an inch in length, and rendered wild with pain, they would have had
but small chance of escape.
With the muffled discharge of Roger's rifle the beast staggered, and
then fell with a crash. Dick was trying to get a charge of powder into
the barrel of his gun, though his hands trembled so that it was a next
to impossible undertaking.
It happened that just then his foot struck against some object, and,
filled with a wild hope, he bent down to ascertain what it could be.
When he found that he had come upon Mayhew's gun, Dick was ready to
shout with joy, for he knew that, if Roger's shot had failed, there was
still another chance.
There was no need of further exertions, it proved. The two shots,
delivered at such close range, had completed the work, for the monster
lay still upon the floor of the cave. A smell of burning hair caused
Dick to pluck one of the still blazing fagots away, which, with
presence of mind, he immediately utilized for starting a fresh fire.
(Note 4.)
Mayhew was discovered, sitting up and looking somewhat dazed. He had a
lump on his head where it had come in contact with the rock at the time
the rush of the bear had thrown him aside; but, on the whole, they
felt that they could congratulate themselves that things were no worse.
Of course the first thing the boys did was to reload their weapons.
If there was one bear in the cave there might be a mate, and it was
certainly the part of wisdom for them to be in readiness to defend
themselves to the utmost.
After the fire had been revived, the guns placed in a condition for
service, and Mayhew's injuries looked after in a way that, crude as it
might be, satisfied him, they began to figure out how it all came about.
"Then this is a bear's den, after all!" Roger commenced; "yet not one
of us ever thought of such a thing, did we?"
"I saw nothing that would tell it," admitted Mayhew, "and, if the beast
was in the habit of coming in by way of the opening that we used we
would have known it. A bear's den always has a smell that you will
notice as soon as you enter; that has been my experience in all my
hunting, and I've run across a few."
"Then there must be another entrance more convenient to the hunting
grounds of the bear," Dick observed. "The beast may not have been in
its den when we arrived. Coming along, just a little while ago, our
fire attracted attention, and then the discovery of human beings here
rendered it furious."
"It beats anything I ever met with," commented Mayhew. "No black bear
would ever dash upon a fire unless first terribly wounded. But this
beast was as wild as if we had been filling her hide with lead."
"All we have been hearing from the Indians and the French trappers
about these silver-tip bears of the mountains seems to be true,"
remarked Dick.
"They are fearful enemies," said Roger. "We have been lucky to kill the
two we have met; but, if a shot should fail, the hunter would never
escape being torn into ribbons."
He took up one of the immense paws of the dead beast as he spoke,
and exhibited the claws that decorated it. They were terrible enough
to send a shudder through the bravest heart, especially when one
considered the titanic strength possessed by the steel muscles of the
animal.
"Well," ventured Dick, "it turns out that there is danger hovering
over those who invade this strange country, even when they believe
themselves securely quartered in a cave!"
"But I hope this little adventure is not going to make us think of
leaving here, to spend the night under the stars, and in the cold
wind?" Roger hinted, a little fearful lest his comrade should consider
this the wisest policy.
Dick could plainly see what was worrying the other, and he hastened to
set Roger's fears at rest.
"If we have to choose between two evils," he said, "we might as well
take the lesser. We know what we can expect out there. That wind is as
keen as the edge of my buckhorn hunting knife, and would go through us
long before morning. And, after all, there may be only one bear. How
about that, Mayhew?"
"If you asked my opinion, I would say here by all means," replied the
wood ranger, immediately. "We can take watch and watch, and be on our
guard through the night."
Roger drew a breath of relief.
"That would be much better than freezing half to death outside!" he
exclaimed; "and you can count on me to take my regular turn. But, Dick,
one thing is sure--we must not let our fire go out while we stay here."
"That would be only the part of wisdom," Dick decided, "and, while we
have the chance, perhaps we'd better fetch in plenty of wood now. The
night is long, and a fire eats up a lot of fuel."
This they set about doing without delay. Mayhew, feeling a little dizzy
after his rough experience with the onrushing bear, was told to stand
guard while the boys looked after the wood supply. It might have been
noticed, however, that both of them slung their guns over their backs
by means of the straps used for this purpose. Evidently they did not
mean to be caught napping, and if by chance they encountered the mate
of the slain bear while laying in a supply of fuel they wanted to be in
condition to give him a warm reception.
But nothing happened. If there was a second bear he must have been far
away from his den on that night, for he failed to disturb the peace of
the explorers' camp.
The plan of keeping watch by turns worked splendidly, and there was not
a single minute that one pair of eyes did not remain on the alert for
danger, while two of the party slept.
Hours crept on, and Dick, who had taken his turn for the second time,
believed it must be drawing close to dawn outside. Roger and the
borderman were sleeping by the fire. Hard though their beds may have
been, they were accustomed to roughing it, and not a murmur had been
heard. A piece of wood served for a pillow, and in that warm shelter
they needed no covering.
Creeping to the exit Dick took an observation. He found it was indeed
daylight, and that the wind had died down with the coming of the sun,
though the air still felt pretty cold to him, especially after having
been in so snug a retreat for many hours.
It was really time they were up and doing. The future did not look very
promising. They would have to run the risk of firing their guns, so as
to secure fresh meat, for they must eat to live. And somewhere within a
radius of ten or twelve miles Jasper Williams might be found, either in
a camp of his own, or as a prisoner of the hostile Indians.
If ever Dick Armstrong had cause to call upon his resolute and
hopeful heart it was when he faced such a dismal outlook. Never once
did he falter. His lips were firmly pressed together, and on his
sunburned face there rested a look of determination that no amount of
difficulties could dissipate.
He immediately awoke the others.
"The dawn has come, and we must be on the move!" he announced.
No one uttered a complaint. Roger had, before going to sleep, managed
to remove the terrible claws of the dead grizzly. That would be the
only token they could show as evidence of the truth of their story
concerning the night attack, and the fight in the cave.
So they issued forth, shivering at first when the cold air struck them.
"Good-by, old cave," said Roger, waving his hand back toward the small
black hole amidst the rocks, the discovery of which had added so
much to their comfort; "we will never forget you as long as we live.
A bear's den may be a queer place to spend a night in; but when it
happens to be a bitter cold night it might be a whole lot worse."
They took up the work in earnest, and as all of them were exceedingly
hungry, their first duty was to secure food. Of course, they might have
food for several days, if they cared to use the carcass of the dead
grizzly, but the meat was so tough and coarse that, after one trial at
making a breakfast of grizzly steak, they all agreed that they would
rather rely on the chance of obtaining more palatable food. If they
could only run across a deer it would supply them with all the meat
they wanted for several days, and, although they realized the danger
of discharging their guns while the hostile Blackfeet were in the
vicinity, they were willing to run that risk.
CHAPTER XVII
THANKS TO THE WOLF PACK
"WHAT have you on your mind now, Roger?" asked Dick, realizing how
serious his companion had become.
As a rule Roger was a light-hearted boy, so that the change was all the
more noticeable whenever he devoted himself to evolving some idea that
had occurred to him.
"Oh, I was only thinking how easy it would be to get all the fresh meat
we needed if only we could stay in one place," was his reply.
"What sort of fresh meat do you mean?" continued the other.
"Four different times now," explained Roger, "I have seen those big
jack-rabbits jump out of some copse, or a crack in the rocks, and bound
away. Each time, just from force of habit, my gun would fly to my
shoulder, and I found myself covering the jumper; but of course I did
not mean to pull the trigger."
"No, because our ammunition is scanty, and, if we have to fire a shot,
we should bag something larger than a rabbit. But, Roger, please go on
and explain what you mean."
"Only this," the other added; "we could easily make traps, and snare
some of these fat rabbits if we were in camp. Keeping on as we do,
that's out of the question. So, in the end, I suppose we must use our
guns to bring down a deer, or a buffalo, if we have the good luck to
run across one."
Mayhew came to a full stop just then.
"There is something coming this way!" he announced.
"It sounds to me as though it was a pack of excited dogs, or wolves in
chase of a breakfast," said Roger, after listening a moment.
Dick nodded his head in a fashion that told that he was of the same
opinion. Indeed, as the sounds were constantly growing louder, there
could be little doubt concerning their origin. The snapping yelps
of wolves in full cry, once heard, cannot again he easily mistaken.
There is a thrilling import to the sound that goes through one like a
galvanic shock.
"They must he chasing a deer," Roger hazarded.
"Yes, and heading straight this way!" added Mayhew.
"Perhaps this is the chance we have been waiting for," ventured Roger,
as he handled his gun eagerly.
"No harm done in getting ready, that I can see," observed Dick, sagely.
"Let us spread out just a little," suggested Mayhew, who, being a
veteran hunter, knew all about the habits of wolves when in pursuit of
their quarry.
"Yes, I like that idea," agreed Dick, "for they may pass to the right
or the left, and then the one on that side would get a fair shot.
Remember, Roger, take your stand, and after that be sure not to move.
If you did, you might cause the deer to sheer off, and us to lose our
breakfast."
Mayhew stood still, while Dick hurried off to the right, and Roger took
to the left, though neither of them went more than a hundred feet. In
fact the clamor was drawing so close now that at any minute they might
expect to catch their first glimpse of the chase.
All of them stood like statues, their eyes riveted on the quarter
whence the wild yelps arose. They could hear the rush of something
moving swiftly through the brush, and the sound grew constantly in
volume.
Suddenly a running animal came into view, a lordly elk, Dick instantly
discovered, and a buck at that. From the manner in which he ran it was
evident that either the elk was lame, or else had been chased so far
that he was becoming exhausted.
Close at his heels came four ferocious gray wolves. They were spinning
along at top speed, their red tongues hanging from between their open
jaws, where the white teeth gleamed cruelly.
The boys had run across another species of wolf since leaving their old
hunting grounds near the mouth of the Missouri. This was the smaller
prairie wolf, an animal akin to the coyote. But they saw at a glance
that these were the large, gray timber wolves, more to be feared than
any other species, especially if they were half starved.
The poor exhausted elk was apparently on his last legs. He seemed to
realize this fact, too, for, as the boys waited impatiently for the
chase to reach them, they saw him stumble, and fall to his knees, as he
turned to face his foes.
Instantly the pack leaped upon him. One was sent whirling through the
air, torn by the sharp antlers of the buck; but the others quickly had
the gallant elk down on the ground.
"We must chase them off!" cried Dick, starting on the run toward the
spot.
Roger and the guide followed, so that the three of them were running
as fast as they could in the direction of the tragedy. They knew how
quickly wolves can tear the carcass of their quarry, and realized that,
if they hoped to save a portion of the elk's best quarters, they would
have to hasten.
The wolves quickly discovered their presence; but they were also very
loath to abandon their feast. Indeed, it seemed for a moment as though
they meant to dispute the right of the newcomers to the game their
cunning and ferocity had pulled down, for they crouched there, and
growled, and bared their teeth as the trio approached.
"Be ready to defend yourself, Roger!" called out Dick, "but do not
shoot unless it is absolutely necessary!"
The wolves realized that they must yield up their quarry unless they
really meant to fight, which would be foreign to their crafty natures.
Doubtless they knew that man was an enemy to be feared, even though he
might only be an Indian brave, armed with his bow and flint-tipped
arrows.
[Illustration: "TURNING AROUND FROM TIME TO TIME AS THOUGH HALF
INCLINED TO COME BACK"]
They accordingly retreated, though turning around from time to time as
though half inclined to come back and have it out with the spoilers of
their well won feast.
"We'll give you the leavings, never fear," laughed Roger, when he saw
that there was a fair portion of the elk still untouched, from which
they could undoubtedly obtain an ample supply of meat. They set to work
with a will, and soon had obtained all they thought necessary.
All this occurred while the hungry wolves remained in sight, skulking
here and there, sniffing the air in a beseeching manner, and once in
a while giving vent to a plaintive howl that sounded strange, indeed,
heard in the broad daylight.
No sooner did the three hunters start to leave the spot than the eager
animals could be seen turning, their natural sense of caution serving
to hold them back, while the pangs of hunger urged them on.
"If there had been more of them," Dick commented, "the chances are we
would not have been able to take their meat without a fight."
"Even those four might have tried to scare us off if it was later in
the season, when they are half starved," Mayhew told them. "Just now
the wolves are fat after the fall, when hunting is good; that is, fat
for their kind. But, when their flanks seem to almost meet, and they
are gaunt with hunger, they make a terrible enemy to attack."
The two lads exchanged glances.
"Yes, we know, for we have been through just such an experience," said
Roger, as he drew back the sleeve of his hunting tunic, to exhibit a
long, red scar. "That is something I carry to remind me of the time.
I sometimes dream of it, and can see the terrible mob of half-crazy
wolves leaping up at my throat, while I did my best to beat them back."
"If it hadn't been for the coming of some hunters with their dogs
just in the nick of time," added Dick, "I think both of us would have
been pulled down and killed by that pack. It was one of our narrowest
escapes."
"And we have had a good many," said Roger, smiling as his memory sped
back to former scenes.
As all of them were very hungry, their one thought now was to cook some
of the happily-secured meat as soon as it could be arranged.
"Here is as good a place as we can find," suggested Dick, "and, unless
I am mistaken, we will be able to get what wood we want without going
far for it."
"The kind that will make next to no smoke, you mean!" Roger remarked,
and the other nodded.
There is a vast amount of difference in wood. Well-seasoned stuff of a
certain variety will burn, and give off hardly any smoke; on the other
hand, if the fuel is partly green, or obtained from a certain species
of tree, it will send up a black column that can be seen a long way off.
When hunters or Indians wish to communicate with each other, even
though miles apart, they take this latter kind of wood for their fire;
but, when they desire to do some cooking while in the enemy's country,
with keen eyes on the watch around them, it is of course necessary to
attract as little attention as possible, and on that account the kind
of fuel that gives out no betraying smoke is chosen.
Of course this was what Dick and his two companions now did; and also
the fire was built in a depression among the rocks so that it might
not be too prominent.
Here they busied themselves cooking small pieces of the elk meat. Their
method of doing it was exceedingly primitive, for it was thrust close
to the fire by means of long splinters of wood, and turned around until
well scorched, when it was devoured with much satisfaction.
It requires a vigorous appetite to really enjoy cooking of this type.
Many boys of to-day would turn up their noses at such food, and go
hungry for a while, though in the end they might come around and ask
for a portion.
They spent half an hour about that small cooking-fire. At the end of
this time all admitted that they were satisfied, and could not eat
another bite. However, at Dick's suggestion, some more of the elk meat
was cooked, to serve them for a "snack" in case circumstances should
not allow them to light a fire later on.
It was Dick who always thought of the future. Roger, with his
happy-go-lucky ways, was, as a rule, content to consider only present
necessities. When he had eaten, and felt satisfied, he did not know why
any one should borrow trouble thinking of something far in the future.
In fact, he generally took to heart that passage he had heard his
father read from the Good Book at home, "sufficient unto the day is the
evil thereof," and applied it to many ordinary occurrences.
After leaving the place where they had enjoyed this good breakfast, of
which all of them were in such need, they laid out a course that would
take them to a section of the country that they had not as yet visited.
All the time they could hear occasional strange roaring or hissing
sounds that aroused the utmost curiosity, for they did not know at
what moment they would come upon some new and startling mystery. This
enchanted land was apparently the home of innumerable weird sights such
as a white man had never before set eyes on; and, as they continued to
advance, they were constantly reminded of this fact.
So, when Roger, who was a trifle in the advance, called out that they
were face to face with a gigantic "paint pot," the others held their
breath as they pushed on to see with their own eyes what he could mean.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE GIANT PAINT POT
IT was indeed a sight well calculated to make the boys stare, and
rub their eyes in wonder, as though they half believed they must be
dreaming. If these wonders of Yellowstone Park elicit cries of delight
from tens of thousands of tourists in these modern times, imagine how
remarkable they must have seemed to these pioneer lads more than a
hundred years ago.
"When you called it a paint pot, Roger, I think you hit the bull's-eye,
for it does look like that, with all those colors boiling up in such a
crazy fashion!" Dick presently remarked, breaking the spell that seemed
to bind them.
"But what is it made of, I'd like to know?" demanded the puzzled Roger.
"Colored clay, in the shape of mud, that is boiling all the time. Be
careful how you put your hand to it. See how the steam keeps on rising.
It must be pretty hot stuff!"
"But what makes it boil that way? There must be a fire of some kind
deep down in the earth?"
"Nothing else would make all these fountains of hot water, and even the
rocks in some places feel warm," admitted the other lad, who was hardly
less amazed than Roger himself.
"It must be some sort of volcano," Roger continued, thoughtfully. "It
has no visible cone, like most of them do, and so the heat escapes in
this way through hundreds of little vents."
That is about the nearest explanation any scientist has ever been able
to give why this one region in all the world contains innumerable
geysers, hot springs, boiling colored mud pots, and various other
wonders of Nature. (Note 5.)
"All I can say is that I don't blame any poor Injun for believing the
place is Evil Ground," muttered Mayhew, as he stared at the strange
spectacle of that blue and yellow and green mud boiling ceaselessly,
and throwing off steam that had a peculiar odor, unlike anything they
had ever smelled before.
He looked around him, and shrugged his shoulders. So many remarkable
things were to be seen, such as a frontiersman might well view with
alarm, that it was no wonder Mayhew felt uneasy. Left to his own
devices he would have turned his back on this enchanted region, and
considered himself a lucky man if only he might get away with his life.
"It strikes me," Dick observed, "that we need not hope to find Williams
anywhere about here, if, as we fear, he has been taken prisoner by
those Blackfoot Indians."
"No, because they would never come to a place like this, unless their
old medicine man was along to make a palaver with the Evil Spirit,"
Roger suggested. "That is what I heard a Mandan brave say, and I guess
it must be about so. We will have to go further, and look for Jasper
elsewhere."
Mayhew seized upon this hint to make a start, and, noticing how anxious
the scout seemed to be to shut out the strange spectacle of that ever
boiling pool of gayly tinted mud, the boys followed at his heels.
"I can hear other spouting fountains not far away!" declared Roger.
"Sometimes it is like a giant snake hissing, and then again I seem to
catch a distant but terrible roaring sound, reminding me of that fierce
bear in the cave."
"Even if the winter is coming on here, there are plenty of birds still
to be met with," Dick remarked, as a flock of cawing crows started up
from a tree-top near by, and flew away.
"Yes, there are hawks also, and I am sure I saw a pair of great
bald-headed eagles soaring away up in the sky, wheeling in circles as
they rose. Besides, we have stirred up many of those brush fowl that
are so much like our chickens at home, and make such fine eating."
"It would be a great place for a hunter or a trapper to spend the
winter," Mayhew commented, "if only he could get used to the awful
things there are going on in this beautiful section of country. You
see, the snow must soon melt where there is so much heat; and that
keeps the grass green for the deer and the buffalo."
"Hark!" exclaimed Roger, stopping suddenly.
His face lighted up with eagerness, and Dick was filled with curiosity.
"What did you think you heard?" he asked, presently.
"The signal we want to catch more than anything else," came the
confident reply.
"Not the whistle Jasper Williams taught us to practice, Roger, and
which he uses when he wants to communicate with friends?"
"That, and nothing else, Dick. I am sure I caught it, coming from
somewhere over to the right."
"Then why not answer it?" Dick told him.
"Do you think it would be wise?" asked the other.
"We want to know if Jasper Williams is near by, and that is the best
way to find it out. You can give the whistle, Roger, for I have heard
you practice it many times."
For answer Roger puckered up his lips, and emitted a peculiar little
trill. Should any one not familiar with it hear this sound, he would
naturally imagine some bird was calling to its mate.
All of them stood there, eagerly waiting to discover if Roger's note
called forth any response. Before ten seconds had passed there came a
faint whistle, very like that which the boy had given.
"There, did you hear it, Dick?" gasped Roger, turning a flushed face
toward his cousin, while his eyes sparkled joyously.
"I heard a sound that might be just such a whistle as Jasper taught
us," replied cautious Dick; "but don't build too many castles in the
air, Roger, or you may be disappointed. Try again!"
Roger was only too willing to do so, and there was an immediate reply
this time, that all of them heard plainly.
"He's coming this way, I do believe, for that was closer than before.
Shall I give him another call?"
"Yes, it can do no harm, and we must know the truth, at any rate."
When the next answer came back it was beyond all doubt nearer than any
that had preceded it.
"Oh! we shall soon see him!" cried Roger, fixing his eyes on the spot,
as near as he could calculate, whence that last reply had come. "Now,
keep watching, both of you, while I signal to him again that the coast
is clear."
He added one more tremulous trill to his notes; to his astonishment the
answer was so plain and clear that it seemed to come straight out of a
pine tree not more than twenty-five yards away.
"Why, he must be back of that tree, I think!" stammered Roger,
uneasily, for he realized that Jasper Williams could never have gained
such a Position without some of their eyes detecting his advance.
Just then a bird flew out of the pine and alighted in another at some
distance away in another quarter. Dick himself instantly gave the
signal whistle, and there came an immediate answer; but it was now from
the quarter whither the bird had flown.
Roger gave a cry of disgust, while Dick laughed softly.
"Good-by to Jasper this time, I'm afraid, Roger!" he said.
"How mean that was for a silly little bird to have the same whistle
Jasper had made up as his signal," said Roger, looking downcast. "Come,
there's no use in our staying here any longer. If that bird keeps on
whistling I might feel like using my gun to bring it down, for I'd
think it was mocking me."
"The poor thing thought a mate was calling," Dick assured him; "or else
some other male bird that wanted to fight it. I warrant you, it is just
as upset as you can be over the mistake."
They pushed on once more, and inside of two hours had come upon at
least seven more geysers, some of which were spouting, while others
were quiet at the time the three pilgrims happened to find the craters.
Now and then the boys would converse in low tones, for Dick knew that
this was the best way to keep his companion's spirits from drooping.
When other things failed, Dick could always interest him by referring
to the wonderful luck that had befallen them, in giving them a chance
to stay all winter at the Mandan village with the exploring expedition,
so as to go on into the Golden West when spring came around.
The uncertainty that lay ahead seemed to appeal to the spirit of
adventure that lay deep down in the hearts of the young pioneers.
"When we break camp in the spring and leave here," Dick went on, as
though he had mapped it out in his mind, "we will have to head into the
Northwest, Captain Lewis told me."
"Why go that way instead of straight into the West, or turn toward the
Southwest?" Roger asked him, just as Dick knew he would be likely to do.
"It seems that the two captains have been picking up all the
information they can from every source," Dick explained; "and this,
when boiled down, causes them to believe there is a better opening over
the great Rocky Mountain chain up there than in any other quarter.
Besides, I believe they have an idea there is a great river that
flows to the sea, the headwaters of which start in the land of the
Blackfeet."
"He must have gotten some of that information from the Blackfoot
prisoner the Mandans have in their strong lodge?" suggested Roger,
quickly.
"I believe he did," Dick told him. "I happen to know that both the
captains and an interpreter spent many hours with the Blackfoot. And I
also heard that they had promised to take the man back to his people
with them in the spring; for they were giving the Mandans some presents
to coax them to turn him over to them."
"Oh! just to think, Dick, what it will mean to us, if we are with them
when they first set eyes on the big water! Our parents came from the
far East, where they knew the Atlantic Ocean; and, if we could only
see the other, what a feather it would be in our caps when we got back
home."
Dick had accomplished his purpose, for his cousin showed his old-time
enthusiasm again. So they continued to converse as they followed
Mayhew, who strode along in advance, constantly on the alert for some
new and startling sight, and not at all pleased with his surroundings.
It was after noon had come and gone that he uttered a cry that the
boys understood as a command to halt. Each clutched his gun in the
manner of those who know the value of being ready.
"Look away off yonder, up on the low ridge!" said the guide, eagerly.
"Moving figures, and of men at that!" ejaculated Roger.
"Indians, I take it," said Dick; "for I can see the feathers in their
hair, and the sun seems to glisten from their painted bodies. They must
be on the warpath, to have put the paint on, and the feathers, too."
"But look, Dick, there is one of them who wears clothes like a white
trapper or borderman!" declared the excited Roger. "Do you see what I
mean, Dick?"
"Yes, it certainly looks that way," answered the other boy, shading
his eyes with his hand in order to see better. "It _is_ a white man,
too, for he is wearing some kind of fur cap, and his hunting shirt is
fringed like our own. There, he turned his face this way then, and he
is no Indian, I am as certain as that my name is Dick Armstrong!"
CHAPTER XIX
A SUDDEN PERIL
"NOW they have gone!" said Roger, as the figures, outlined against the
sky, vanished behind some outcropping rock.
"Yes, and they seemed to be starting down the side of the ridge toward
us, as near as I could see," Dick declared, nor did the guide dispute
the assertion.
"Could that have been our friend Jasper Williams?" demanded Roger,
voicing the vague hope that was pounding at his own heart door.
"He was too far away for us to make sure, one way or another," admitted
Dick.
"But he seemed to be of about the same build; and, Dick, you could see
nothing to prove that it was any one else, could you?"
"No, only that he was in the company of Indians," and Dick shook his
head in a way that spoke of considerable doubt.
"But then," argued Roger, "they might be friendly Mandans, or Sioux, or
even some of these Sheep-eaters we've heard about, who live in certain
sections of the Wonderland in brush shacks." (Note 6.)
"Yes, that might be true, for they were too far away for us to tell
from the feathers in their scalp-locks what tribe they belonged to,"
the other boy admitted.
"And the last thing we heard about Jasper, from Hardy and Mordaunt, was
that he was being chased by Blackfoot Indians," Roger continued.
"Well," Dick explained, "this white man was no prisoner, for I saw
him point ahead at something, which would mean that his arms were not
fastened."
"We know that Williams is a remarkable man," mused Roger, "and, even if
those braves were of the fierce Blackfoot tribe, he might have managed
in some way to have made them his friends. I know it doesn't sound
reasonable, but Jasper knows Indian character better than any white man
we ever met."
"If he could do that he would be a magician."
"So he would," admitted the other boy, reluctantly; "but what are we
going to do about it, Dick?"
"There is nothing for us but to wait and see," came the reply. "They
acted as though heading in this direction. If you asked me about our
best move I'd say, hide and watch. If it turned out to be Jasper we
could call out; on the other hand, if it were one of these French
trappers, who are hand in glove with the Blackfoot Indians, we needn't
let them know we are around."
"But do you think they noticed us?" asked the other boy.
"That is more than I can say. I saw nothing to indicate it; but these
redskins are so tricky they would hide it, even if they knew, and were
watching us out of the tail of their eyes."
"Let us hide, and see!" Mayhew said just then, showing that he approved
of Dick's scheme.
Looking around, they quickly decided where it would be best to conceal
themselves. The ground was so rough and uneven that there were plenty
of places that had an inviting look. Mayhew selected a patch of bushes
as a retreat, and in another minute they were crouching under this
shelter.
Although most of the leaves were off the bushes, they grew so densely
that it would require something more than a casual glance in that
direction to betray the fact that several figures lurked there.
They heard many different sounds, for silence was hardly ever present
in this land of the spouting wells, which roared and hissed and
spluttered as they shot up their steaming fountains toward the heavens.
There was almost constantly a fretful murmur in the air that might
suddenly turn into a whining shriek or a dull roar.
A low exclamation from Mayhew announced that his trained vision had
detected some sort of movement, far or near.
"What is it?" demanded Roger, on the right of the guide.
"They are coming!" was the answer.
"Tell us where, that we may see also," the other urged.
"Then turn this way, and look between those two leaning trees," said
the guide. "But be careful that you move slowly. It is the quick
actions that catch the suspicious eye of an Injun."
"Oh! now I can see them plainly," whispered Roger. "They are heading
straight for us!"
"Blackfoot warriors for a certainty!" Dick muttered.
"Can you see the white man plainly, Dick?" asked Roger, impatiently.
"Not just yet," came the reply. "He must be back among some of the
Indians who hide him. But we will soon know what to expect. Keep
watching."
Almost immediately Roger himself gave a grunt. It sounded as though
bitter chagrin was connected with the sound.
"There, I saw him plainly, Dick," he whispered, "and it isn't Jasper
Williams at all. The man is a Frenchman, unless my eyes deceive me, and
I ought to know what one of them looks like."
"I believe it is none other than our old enemy, François Lascelles!"
Dick said in the ear of his cousin; a bit of information that must have
given poor Roger a strange thrill, for he could not have imagined any
more discouraging news.
"Oh! what if he runs across us here?"
"We would have to fight for our lives, I fear. That man hates all our
family about as bitterly as I've heard my father say another Frenchman
named Jacques Larue once did."
"But see how many there are of the Indians; a full dozen or more. They
look as fierce as any braves I ever saw. I hope they pass by, and fail
to notice us."
"Keep still, Roger, they are getting too close now for us to talk, even
in whispers. Be ready for the worst, even while hoping for the best.
That is the Armstrong motto, you know. 'Sh!"
Roger fixed himself so that he could see everything that went on
without making the slightest movement. He knew those keen eyes of the
red sons of the forest were quick to detect a suspicious movement,
no matter how slight, and that, if he so much as lifted his hand,
discovery would follow.
The Indians were coming forward in a string, or what the trappers of
that day called "Indian file," one stepping in the footprints of the
brave ahead of him. In this fashion it would be difficult for any enemy
on finding their trail to know whether three or twenty had passed. It
was a piece of Indian cunning, and a part of their nature, since it
could hardly have been undertaken for any particular reason at this
time.
They were heading directly toward the copse, but, since it would offer
a bar to their progress, they might turn aside when it was reached.
The boys almost held their breath as they watched the approach of
those fierce-looking Blackfeet. Up to then the brave who was held a
prisoner in the Mandan village had been the only member of this noted
tribe they had seen at close quarters. (Note 7.)
They were all picked men, if one could judge from their appearance;
they were lithe, active as cats, alert, and at the same time muscular.
Those swelling bronzed arms could doubtless paddle a dugout or a skin
canoe at tremendous speed. Among them there must be braves who had won
an enviable reputation for speed at foot races; or, it might be, renown
as long distance runners, capable of keeping on the trail at a dog-trot
for days and nights at a time.
It was therefore with considerable respect, and not a little anxiety as
well, that Dick and Roger watched them coming nearer.
Of course they took note of the white man, too. He was a bold-looking
adventurer, such as most of those French traders of the early century
were, dashing in appearance, and with a certain air of recklessness
about him, such as might be expected in those who daily took their
lives in their hands and faced unknown perils in a wilderness that was
almost a complete mystery to white men of the day.
François Lascelles had entered largely into the lives of these two
boys, even though their opportunities to see the wily and unscrupulous
French trader had been few, up to then, and mostly at their home, where
he visited to talk business with their parents.
If they had not liked his looks at that time he certainly presented a
far less prepossessing appearance now that he was away from all the
outposts of civilization and saw no need to repress the tiger element
in his nature.
To himself Dick was saying:
"That man would stop at nothing in order to have his own way. If ever
we had the bad luck to fall into his power we could not expect any
mercy, I am sure. And, if Jasper Williams is now in his hands, nothing
can save him, unless we are fortunate enough to be able to come to his
rescue."
This far Dick had arrived in his train of thought when he received a
sudden and severe shock. Mayhew had managed to give his foot a slight
kick, as though to call his attention to something that was going on
out in the open. Dick hardly required this signal to pay attention, for
he had already seen what was happening.
The Indians were no longer pushing forward as before. The one in the
lead had suddenly stopped up; and he must have given vent to some
exclamation that acted like magic on the rest, for every one had halted
as though controlled by a single wire.
They seemed to be gathering around their leader, who was pointing
excitedly to the ground, as though he had made an important discovery.
Mayhew grunted very softly, but the sound lost none of its significance
on account of being so gently emitted. As for Dick, he did not need to
be told what it was the Blackfoot had found; for, like a flash, it came
to him that he and his companions had headed toward the clump of bushes
from that very spot.
The sharp eyes of the leading brave had discovered their trail! It had
been a fatal blunder, their neglecting to cover this up in some manner,
although, at the time, it might have seemed as though there was not one
chance in a thousand the hostiles would come that way.
No one moved, even though they must have felt hot and cold by turns, as
the terrible result of the discovery flashed before their minds. The
Indians were jabbering together in excited tones, though what they
were saying the boys could only guess, since they knew nothing of the
Blackfoot tongue.
The white trader was apparently as curious as any of the dusky braves
in his company. He even dropped down on his hands and knees, the better
to examine the footprints. Of course it would be patent to them that
the tracks were made by white men.
What would be the result? Would they surmise that the three daring
invaders of the Evil Manitou's Wonderland, the forge where he made
all his thunderbolts, must be secreted near by? Could they read that
those tracks had just been made, since blades of brown grass were still
springing up after being pressed down?
Perhaps Lascelles even knew that Dick and Roger were searching for
Jasper Williams! He seemed to be superhuman when it came to learning
things that were supposed to be secret. And, if that were so, then it
was indeed a gloomy outlook that faced the pioneer boys.
Dick could only catch his breath and watch to see what would happen
next; that, and grip his gun tighter in his hands as he crouched
waiting for the explosion. He knew their presence in the copse was
suspected, for the trader was even then pointing straight at the patch
of bushes, and saying something to his red companions.
CHAPTER XX
PRISONERS OF THE BLACKFEET
FLIGHT was out of the question, for the boys could hardly hope to excel
those fleet-footed Indian braves, however successful Mayhew might have
proved.
Indeed, there was little time given to any of them to think of escape.
When the wily French trader had conveyed his suspicions to some of the
Blackfoot braves there was a concerted dash toward the clump of bushes.
Some of the Indians started to circle around, evidently in the
expectation that, if the whites were concealed, they would attempt
flight, and the idea of these runners was to forestall any such dash.
"We must hold them back or all is lost!" exclaimed Mayhew, who, being
an experienced Indian fighter, doubtless knew the weak and strong
points of the red men, no matter to what tribe they belonged.
The report of his long-barreled rifle followed his words almost
instantly. There could be no question but that his bullet found its
billet, for Mayhew was a crack shot.
Roger strained his eyes to discover the form of Lascelles among those
rushing straight toward the bushes, but he looked in vain. The shrewd
Frenchman must have suspected that he would be a shining mark for the
concealed riflemen, and hence he had discreetly taken shelter behind
a convenient tree trunk, from whence he could observe all that went
on, and be ready to appear after the battle was over. Failing to see
Lascelles, Roger took hasty aim at the nearest Indian and fired, but
apparently missed.
Dick had not thought about trying for the trader; indeed, it might have
been the most foolish thing Roger could have done, since the Indians,
if successful, would probably dispatch the boys without hesitation,
unless there was a restraining hand put out to prevent it.
The tricky warriors came leaping and dodging to the attack, so that it
was not the easiest thing in the world to hit such an eccentric target.
When Dick fired he felt sure he had not missed, and yet his intended
victim failed to fall, though he did act as though wounded.
The guns being now empty the boys drew their pistols. These of course
were of the same construction, being furnished with flint locks. It
required considerable knack to be able to discharge such a weapon.
The powder had to be shaken afresh into the pan, or there would be no
explosion after the flint and steel had come violently in contact.
Then, unless the connection were assured through the minute hole, it
would result only in a flash in the pan, instead of the weapon doing
its full duty.
Roger, always more careless than Dick, snapped his pistol in vain, for
there was no report. Perhaps it was just as well, since, in the end,
one enemy more or less would have made very little difference.
By this time the Indians were upon them, and each one of the little
party found himself in the midst of a whirling force that frustrated
all their wild efforts to strike with knife or hatchet.
From a point close at hand a shrill voice was screaming orders in the
Indian tongue. François had come to life suddenly, after making sure
that the whites could no longer cover him with their fire-arms. He was
ordering his red minions not to finish the three palefaces, if they
expected to obtain the reward he had promised them.
All this the boys heard as in a dream. They were so furiously engaged
at the time, it was little attention they paid to anything that was
going on. To avoid the savage blows aimed at them by dusky hands that
gripped stone tomahawks, was about as much as they could manage. It was
only later on, when they had a chance to exchange views concerning the
fight, that they reached such a conclusion.
Such an unequal contest could not last long. Dick and Roger were pulled
to the ground by the many hands that gripped them. Struggling to the
bitter end, they expected that some one of their red antagonists would
finish them with a fell sweep of those flourished tomahawks; indeed,
Dick shut his eyes in anticipation of such a tragedy, and before his
inward vision there flashed one glimpse of the dear ones in the far
distant home on the bank of the Missouri.
But the blow did not fall. He could hear the excited voice of Lascelles
haranguing the braves, and, opening his eyes again, Dick found that the
French trader had interposed his arm between the threatening weapons
and the two boys.
Just what François was saying to his allies Dick could not tell, since
he knew little of Indian talk, and nothing at all of the Blackfoot
language. He could, of course, guess that Lascelles, for some reason
of his own, did not wish the boys slain. It could hardly have been pity
that influenced the trader, for he was a cruel man.
Dick became aware of several other things just then. One was that Roger
was keeping up his vain struggling, despite the fact that a couple of
brawny braves were sitting on him.
"Keep still, Roger," commanded Dick, realizing that the impulsive lad
was imperiling both of their lives by his senseless actions; "you can
never break away, and by keeping up that fighting you may force them to
knock us on the head. We are prisoners, and there is no help for it."
Roger stopped his writhing and beating with his fists, though the fact
that he had to yield to the inevitable forced a groan from his lips.
"Where is Mayhew?" asked Dick, noting that the scout did not seem to be
near.
Before Roger could frame any sort of a reply they heard a series of
yells from a little distance, followed by a shot.
"He must have managed to break away, Dick," exclaimed Roger, when he
could get rid of the dirt that impeded his speaking; "and some of the
Indians have followed after him. Oh, I hope he has not been killed!"
"That didn't sound like it," Dick told him. "There was a deal of
baffled fury in those Indian yells. Mayhew may get clear away, after
all. He has no equal as a runner among all the men of the expedition."
There was no time to say more, nor were the conditions by which the two
boys were surrounded of a nature to invite conversation.
Lascelles had apparently convinced those of the Indians who seemed
most bent on finishing the white boys that it would be more to their
advantage to hold them as prisoners or hostages, for reluctantly they
dropped their uplifted weapons. That more than one of them did this
under protest could be seen from the manner in which they eyed the
prisoners, and shook their feather bedecked heads.
"Get up, you American swine!" said Lascelles, accompanying his remark
with a kick from the toe of his moccasin.
As there was no longer a weight on his chest Roger sprang to his feet
as though he had been shot up by a gigantic spring. His face was white
with anger, and he would have leaped straight at the throat of the
insulting French trader, despite the fact of Lascelles holding a
leveled pistol in front of him, only that Dick seized hold and held him
back.
"You are crazy to think of that, Roger! Have some sense. Think of those
at home, and do nothing to force his hand!"
It was a terrible task for the hot-blooded boy to subside. He gave
Lascelles a look that spoke volumes, but which only caused the
Frenchman to grin in pleasure, for he had no idea that these boys would
ever be given the chance to turn the tables on him.
Neither of the boys had been badly hurt in the fierce scrimmage, though
scratches and minor cuts were in evidence, and they looked the worse
for wear. Deprived of every weapon, they were helpless in the midst of
that circle of hostile Blackfeet, and could only grit their teeth and
give back look for look in a resolute fashion.
Lascelles stood before them, with folded arms, and a sneer on his dark
face. From a point still more remote there came again those yells of
baffled rage to tell that the skillful Mayhew must still be eluding his
pursuers.
"So, zis is ze young Armstrongs zat I haf ze pleasure to entertain?"
the trader started to say, as though he had a communication to make
which he fancied would add still more to their wretchedness, and it was
necessary to first of all "break the ice."
"Yes, we are the Armstrong boys, and you are François Lascelles,"
replied Dick. "What business have you trying to make us prisoners? We
are not interfering with these Indians in their hunting grounds. The
last time we saw you it was at the cabin of our grandfather, David
Armstrong. Why do you not order these warriors to set us free? We will
go back to the camp from which we came, and they will not see us again."
"Eet is not to be as you wish, but as I say," the Frenchman observed,
with a pompous inflation of his chest, as became a victor. "I haf you
in my power, and zat ees vat I am here for. Eef you evair return to ze
home again eet vill not be until ze winter is gone. Zen eet vill be too
late to take ze leetle paper to zose zat sit by ze fireside, and wait
day by day for you to come back!"
At hearing this Dick felt considerable relief. Perhaps, after all,
the Frenchman was not quite so bad a man as he had believed. He spoke
as though there might be a possibility of their being kept prisoners
through the winter, and set free in the spring, when it was no longer
possible for them to reach home before the time limit had expired, and
their parents ousted from their property.
That would mean that long months must elapse. They might even be taken
to the Blackfoot village, leagues and leagues away, but there would
always remain a chance for escape. Dick was a firm believer in the old
motto that "while there's life there's hope."
"You know why we are here in this strange land, then?" he remarked,
chiefly to draw the other out, so that something might be learned
concerning the whereabouts of Jasper Williams.
"Yes, eet is all plain to me vy you come here," Lascelles assured him,
nodding as he spoke. "I haf made sure zat ze paper you could nevaire
secure. I haf already ze Williams a prisoner in anuzzer camp, vere my
son Alexis and ze brave French comrades zay watch heem like ze weasel."
"You mean that Jasper Williams is a prisoner, do you?" asked Dick,
while Roger listened eagerly, trying to read the grinning countenance
of Lascelles, and determine whether he was speaking the truth, or
concocting a lie for some evil purpose.
"Zat ees vat I am saying," continued Lascelles; "I haf arranged zat he
may be taken to ze village of Black Otter, and adopted into ze tribe.
Ze big chief haf long wished to haf ze white man show zem many things
zat zey do not know. Williams nevaire come back from ze Blackfoot
country. Eet is many days' journey into ze cold Northwest, and no white
man has ever seen the wigwams of Black Otter."
"But what will you do with us; I hope you will not send us with the
Blackfeet also?" asked Dick, still seeking information.
"I haf not yet made up my mind, but pouf! vat does it matter to me? So
zat you may not send ze word down to ze town on zat Missouri I care not
vat becomes of ze Armstrong vermin. I haf Williams, and now both ends
zey are tied up. Zat ees well!"
"You will have to prove it before I believe Williams is your prisoner!"
said Dick.
"Ah! zat ees easy," retorted the Frenchman; "you haf seen zis knife in
hees possession, it may be. Do you not recognize eet? Williams think so
much of zat knife he would not let it leave hees person. But I haf eet
here. So you see zere ees ze proof zat he ees a prisoner in zat uzzer
camp."
CHAPTER XXI
BINDING UP AN ENEMY'S WOUNDS
"DO you believe him, Dick?" asked Roger, huskily, after the French
trader had turned his back on them, and the Indians busied themselves
binding the hands of their captives behind their backs, using deerskin
thongs for the purpose.
"I'm afraid it must be so," replied Dick. "I happen to know about that
knife, and have heard Williams say he prized it above anything he
possessed. It has saved his life more than once, I understand."
"Then if you recognized the knife it would mean that he is a prisoner
like ourselves," admitted Roger, with a long-drawn sigh.
"We may be taken to where he is being kept," the other told him.
"They say misery likes company."
"Oh! you must never give in like that. I tell you it is bound to come
out right in the end, though things may look dark just now. Such a bad
man could not win out ultimately. Do as I am doing and refuse to allow
yourself to think such a thing can happen."
"I try to--honestly I do, Dick; but what hope have we now? Here we are
in the power of that rascal, who means to see to it that we do not get
free until spring, and even then he may leave us to our fate. And, as
if that were not enough, Jasper Williams, the only one who can save our
parents' homes, is a prisoner and will be sent into the wilderness,
never to be seen again."
Dick could understand what a weight rested on the mind of his cousin.
Was he not himself fighting against the same depression, and conquering
it only because he would not give in?
"Listen, Roger," he said, impressively, "there is only one way for us
to win this fight, and that is by making up our minds nothing can ever
best us. Brace up, and shut your teeth together in the old way."
"Forgive me for giving in so soon; you are curing me fast now. I
already feel that things are never so dark but that they might be
worse."
"Much worse," Dick told him, resolutely. "Whenever you feel your knees
beginning to get weak under you, just shut your eyes and see father,
mother and little Mary sitting by the fireside at home. It will do
wonders. I know, for I have often tried it myself."
By this time the Indians had finished binding their arms behind them.
Evidently they expected to go to some other place to camp.
The day was not far from its close. Dick wondered whether they were to
be taken to the place where Jasper Williams was being held prisoner.
Lascelles had said it was a camp where his son Alexis and some other
Frenchmen were in charge, showing that he must wield considerable
influence over the warlike Blackfeet.
There was nothing to indicate what the result of the pursuit of Mayhew
had been, up to the time they started forth. This in itself gave the
boys a faint hope the guide might have eluded his pursuers. They had
considerable faith in Mayhew, and believed that he would not desert
them.
Still, what could one man do against such a legion of enemies, and
especially when in almost as much fear of the wonders of that enchanted
region as the superstitious Indians themselves?
Some of the Indians walked ahead, while others brought up the rear,
once they started. Dick was curious enough to take note of the course
they pursued. He had a dogged faith to believe that sooner or later he
would want to know something about this ground, for he hoped to tread
it again on the return journey to the explorers' camp.
It was, he found, a difficult task to keep track of their passage. This
was chiefly caused by the meanderings of the Indians. Whenever they
fancied they were approaching one of the spouting wells, with its steam
column, and its roaring voice, they would sheer off to one side, and
circle around it.
All this made their course an eccentric one, and Dick found it beyond
his power to figure it out. All he could do was to note the general
direction in which they were heading, and store it away in his memory
for future use.
Roger was close enough to him to allow of an occasional interchange of
remarks. Their captors seemed to pay no attention to what they were
saying; and of course none of them understood a word of it, so the boys
saw no need of restricting themselves when discussing their hopes and
fears.
"I believe they intend to camp before long," Dick said presently, as
they continued to move along through the pine-clad side of the slope
that rose to form a foothill to the mountain chain further away.
"But the sun is only setting, and these Indians never get tired, so
what makes you think they will halt?" Roger asked, himself very weary.
"But Lascelles is not anxious to keep going when there is no need,"
explained the other prisoner. "I saw him point out a spot to the tall
Indian at his side, who must be a sub-chief from the feathers in his
scalp-lock, and the bears' claws he carries about his neck. The Indian
shook his head, and pointed ahead, as if he meant that he knew of a
much better place to spend the night."
"I hope there's a bubbling spring there, and that it's ice-cold,"
ventured Roger, "for I'm dry as a bone, and somehow most of the water
up here is luke-warm, when it isn't nearly boiling."
"There was that one place we struck," Dick remarked, "where a cold
stream ran so close to one of the hot pools that I really believe you
could catch a trout in the one, give it a swing over your head, and
drop it in the other so it would be cooked without being taken off the
hook."
"I can see what the folks at home will do and say when you tell that
yarn," observed Roger, with a faint chuckle, as though for the moment
he had forgotten their predicament.
"Look, there are three other Indians waiting for us by that dead tree!"
Dick suddenly exclaimed.
"One of them is wounded in the shoulder, too!" remarked Roger. "Oh!
Dick, can those be the men who pursued Mayhew?"
"I was just thinking about that myself," returned the other; "and, now
that you ask me, I must say I believe they are. That one certainly has
been struck by a bullet. See how crudely they have bandaged the wound.
If they would let me try my hand I could do a heap better."
"Suppose you tell that to Lascelles," suggested Roger, quickly. "It
might make us friends among the Indians, and goodness knows we need
them. Besides, I never liked to see even an Indian suffer."
"I remember hearing my father tell how, long years ago, when they were
living up on the bank of the Ohio, they found a young Indian badly
wounded, and took him into their camp to nurse. Some of the settlers,
who believed that every Indian was a snake in the grass, wanted to put
him to death, but father and uncle had their way, and Blue Jacket's
life was spared."
"Yes," added Roger, "and ever afterwards he was the best friend the
settlers had. Why, he even followed our parents most of the way down to
the Mississippi, when they descended the Ohio River on a flatboat. And
then another time, you remember, they won the good will of the great
Indian chief, Pontiac, by saving his life."
"That is a fact, Roger; and he gave them a wampum belt that kept them
from the fury of the Indian ever afterwards. Some people may not think
it pays to befriend an Indian, but we have been taught differently."
When the three Indians joined the main column Dick tried to ascertain
whether they had been successful in their pursuit of Mayhew, or had met
with failure.
He knew it would be folly to try to obtain this information through
the wily Frenchman, who, wishing to add to their distress, would very
likely boast that the frontiersman had been brought down.
Dick, however, quickly made up his mind that this could not be the
case. The sullen manner of the three braves was enough in itself
to tell the story of their having been outwitted by Mayhew. Then,
besides, if they had slain the hunter they would be shouting of victory
and holding up a freshly taken scalp in evidence.
"Depend on it, our friend got away," Dick told Roger.
"I was thinking that myself," returned the other, "for they look mad
enough to bite a nail in two, if they knew what such a thing was."
For some little time they marched along steadily. Then the
important-looking Indian, who was walking alongside Lascelles, turned,
and called out something in his own language.
"Good! we are going to stop at last!" muttered Roger. "I can hear the
tinkling of a running brook close by. I hope the water is good and
cold, and that they let me drink my fill."
There was no doubt about it, for the Indians no longer kept pushing
forward. To make a camp, when far from home, was an easy matter for
these hardy braves, accustomed, as they were, to enduring all manner of
hardships with the stoicism that has always distinguished their race.
There were no tents to erect, no packs to undo, and getting the meal
was a most primitive operation, since it would probably consist of
cooking some sort of meat by thrusting it in the flames at the end of
long sticks of wood.
When some of the braves started to fasten the prisoners to two trees
that grew close together, Dick thought it about time to begin making
friends. Accordingly he called to Lascelles to approach, as he had a
communication to make that might strike him favorably.
"I have had some success in binding up gun-shot wounds," Dick told him,
"and if I was given a chance I believe I could do that poor fellow some
good. He may bleed to death unless something is done."
The wily Frenchman eyed him keenly.
"Zat sounds very good, but how am I to know zat you vill not try to
escape if ze bonds zey are remove?" he demanded suspiciously.
"I will give you my promise not to attempt anything of the sort as long
as my hands are free," Dick assured him. "Besides, it would be folly to
try to run away when you have your gun, and they their bows and arrows
handy. Come, loosen my hands and let me see what I can do."
Lascelles made sure to get the consent of the chief before he would
touch the thongs, but he finally did so. Some of the Indians, learning
that the paleface boy was a medicine man among his people, watched with
some interest to see how he treated the wound of their companion.
Dick had in truth been unusually successful in handling this particular
form of injury, and knew about how it should be treated. He had scant
material with which to work, but his deft fingers made up in part for
the want of other things.
The salve which he produced from his ditty bag was home-made, for his
mother knew all about medicinal herbs and their values.
When, after completing the job, Dick looked up into the face of
his "patient" and asked how it felt, while the brave may not have
understood the exact words, at the same time he must have guessed the
nature of the inquiry, for he nodded his head in the affirmative as
though to admit that his condition had been made much more bearable.
"Now you _have_ got a job on your hands!" sang out Roger, as he saw
the other wounded warriors pressing forward, as though meaning to have
their hurts looked after in the same fashion.
Dick was satisfied that this was not an effort thrown away. If he
could make the Blackfeet understand that white men were not the
unfeeling monsters they had been painted by the French fur-traders it
would be a good thing. Besides, they knew not what their future might
be, and the time was likely to come when a friend in the Indian camp
would prove a profitable investment. (Note 8.)
"We ought to call this camp Armstrong Hospital, I think!" said Roger,
after it was all finished, and Dick had been secured to his tree near
by.
"I hope my work wasn't wholly wasted," remarked Dick. "As they have
built a fire it seems settled that we are to stay here to-night.
Perhaps to-morrow they mean to take us to the other camp, where
Lascelles said Williams is held a prisoner."
"And on my part," added the other captive, "I hope they will give us
some of the meat they've started to cook. When I can catch his eye I
want to ask Lascelles to get me a drink of water. My tongue seems to be
sticking to the roof of my mouth."
"If we could make one of the wounded Indians understand, I think they
would do a little thing like that for us; but the Frenchman seems to
be scowling blackly at me just now. Perhaps, after all, he is sorry
about letting me dress the wounds of the braves; he may suspect that
I'm getting too popular, and that it may somehow hurt his game in the
end."
"Who knows how that may work out?" declared Roger. "One thing is sure,
we must keep our wits about us, and try to figure out a way to get
free."
Dick seemed to be of the same mind, for he nodded his head, and said:
"If we have half a chance we must try to escape to-night. That Canadian
scout in the explorers' camp, Drewyer, knows considerable about these
Blackfoot Indians, and he told me they are very treacherous, often
killing their captives as they take a freak, or the medicine man of the
tribe has a pretended message from Manitou that they must be put to
death. So we dare not trust them, but must escape by any means."
CHAPTER XXII
IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT
APPARENTLY it was not the design of Lascelles to starve his prisoners,
for later on he had them untied, and gave them a chance to devour some
of the crudely cooked buffalo meat. They were also permitted to drink
their fill of the cold water in the brook.
After all this had been done, with the trader watching them constantly,
and holding his gun in readiness to frustrate any attempt at escape,
the boys were once more tied with long thongs to the trees.
They noticed, however, that the brave who fastened them was inclined to
be much more gentle with them than on the first occasion. Dick believed
the seed of kindness he had sown was commencing to take root.
"It will be a night that we shall never forget, Dick," Roger remarked.
"If it blows up windy and cold, as it was when we were in the cave, we
will suffer terribly here."
"Let us hope then that we may not be here all night long," Dick
ventured; and somehow his manner, as well as his words, caused the
blood of his companion to leap in his veins.
"Do you really mean it?" Roger asked. "Is there a chance that we can
break loose, tied up as we are? Are you depending on Mayhew to come to
our rescue? Surely, you could not have had any signal from him?"
"Nothing," replied the other. "But have you noticed where they put our
guns and powder horns?"
"I must say I hadn't thought much about that part of it," confessed
Roger; "but, since you mention it, I think they are over against that
tree. The Indians are afraid of firearms, you know. Perhaps the chief
Lascelles spoke to us about, and whom he called Black Otter, hopes to
force Williams into teaching him how to use 'the sticks that spit out
fire and stinging things.'"
"There is another thing that, perhaps, I ought to tell you," continued
Dick, in a low tone. He saw the Frenchman looking over at them just
then, as though wondering what they were finding to talk about, and
debating whether it might not be safer to separate the pair.
"If it's anything that will make me feel more cheerful, I hope you will
lose no time in doing so," Roger hastened to say.
"Please keep from showing so much in your face then," Dick told him;
"or that man may be able to read the whole story from where he sits.
Act as though we were without the first ray of hope. He is a suspicious
sort of man. We must try to make him believe we mean to make the best
of it."
"Now tell me, Dick; I am looking as if I'd lost my last friend. What
has happened? I am sure you have made some discovery."
"Oh! not so very great," replied Dick; "only that I believe I can get
my hands free with very little effort."
"How does that happen?" wondered Roger; "mine are as tight as they can
well be. Did that Indian favor you when he fastened us up the last
time; or was it through an accident?"
"Neither one nor the other, it happens," said the second prisoner,
coolly. "I remembered to swell up my wrists in a way I can do, when he
was putting the thongs around them. By reducing them to the utmost, my
hands are almost free, and it will take but little effort for me to
free them entirely."
"And then you can set me loose, too, though I am afraid it will take
you a long time to get those knots undone. It must be an Indian way of
tying thongs, for I never saw its like before."
"There is a better way than that," Dick assured him. "Don't turn your
head just now to look, because Lascelles is watching us like a hawk;
but some time later on, when his back is this way, cast your eyes to
the right, and, sticking in the tree not more than five feet away, you
will see my hunting knife!"
"Oh! how came it there?" demanded Roger, watching the French trader,
and ready to take advantage of the fact if Lascelles should happen to
look away, even for a moment.
"I saw a brave give it a jab into the tree when he was cutting some
thongs from a strip of buckskin before we were tied up; and ever since
I have watched to see if any one removed it. So far, it has remained
there."
The Indians had by this time settled down to take things as comfortably
as conditions allowed. The fire was sending out considerable heat,
and around the cheery blaze the red men squatted, each with his
gaudy-colored blanket about his shoulders. Some of them were scantily
clad for the wintry season, though doubtless it did not occur to them
in that light, as they had become habituated to exposure.
The two boys looked at the picture presented. They would, if they were
fortunate enough to live through the experience, often recall it in
future days, and, it was to be hoped, under happier skies.
High the sparks soared from the fire, with the red tongues of
flame jumping up as though in riotous sport. The bending tops of
the neighboring pines seemed to be whispering together as though
communicating the secrets of the wilderness. It was all so strange and
wonderful, even after the remarkable sights they had looked on of late,
that Roger asked himself whether it could be real, or only a dream.
Several of the Blackfeet had produced red clay pipes and were smoking
some weed that, for all the boys could tell, may have been tobacco,
cured after their own tribal fashion.
"I only wish I could put something in that stuff to make them sleep
like logs until dawn," said Roger.
"They are beginning to show signs of getting drowsy," Dick assured him.
"Already several have curled up in their blankets, and seem to be fast
asleep. Here comes the Frenchman to take a last look at us before he
follows them into dreamland."
"Oh! be careful that he may not learn of the trick you played with your
bonds!" Roger whispered, in sudden alarm lest the crafty trader make a
discovery that would destroy the hope they were hugging to their hearts.
"Leave that to me, for I feel sure I can deceive him, even if he tries
my bonds to see how secure they are," Dick assured him.
Apparently Lascelles was very sleepy, for he yawned several times as he
felt of the thongs, to see how they had been tied by the brave to whom
the task had been delegated.
"Eet is too bad zat you haf to stand all ze night," he told the boys;
"but eet cannot be helped. Eet is ze fortune of war. Ven boys try to
play ze part of men zey must take ze good wif ze bad. In ze morning,
unless ze storm delay us, we vill hope to reach ze uzzer camp, and then
you see heem."
He walked away after delivering himself of these few remarks. The boys
knew very well who was meant by "heem," for it could only refer to
Jasper Williams.
"That sounds as if he has Jasper, sure enough," remarked Roger, when
they once more were by themselves.
"Yes, and if we get away from here it must be our duty to free him. We
did it once before, you remember; and what was next door to a miracle
then can happen again."[5]
When another half-hour had crept around, conditions in the Indian camp
had undergone a decided change. There had been no sentry set that the
boys observed, and Dick had counted the Indians many times to make sure
that all were around the fire. They lay sprawled in such postures as
their fancy dictated. Some had their backs against the trunks of trees,
while others extended themselves at full length on the ground.
One and all seemed to be sound asleep. Acting upon the advice of Dick,
both of the boys had assumed an attitude calculated to deceive any
one who might be sending an occasional glance in their direction, and
make it appear as though they, too, had yielded to the demands of the
slumber god.
"Is it time yet, Dick?" whispered Roger for the third time, when it
seemed as if his blood had almost stopped circulating on account of
the tight bonds, and he doubted his ability to use his legs, even if
set free.
"Wait a little longer," he was told, in the same cautious tone, which,
if heard at all, would be considered but the murmur of the cool night
breeze in the nodding pine-tops.
The half-hour lengthened to a full one; and even this was now growing,
until it must soon measure a second hour. Roger could not stand it much
longer. He felt as though something within him would burst unless he
could make a move of some sort.
"Listen," whispered Dick, just then, as if in answer to the silent
plea, "I saw something move across on the other side of the camp. A
hand seemed to gently wave to me, and it was not the hand of an Indian,
either. I firmly believe Mayhew, Heaven bless him, has come back,
taking his life in his hand, meaning to rescue us from the Indians."
FOOTNOTE:
[5] See "The Pioneer Boys of the Missouri."
CHAPTER XXIII
THE ESCAPE
"THAT is good news, Dick!" whispered Roger.
"There, did you see him that time?" the other asked, as cautiously as
though he believed every sleeping Indian possessed such keen hearing
that a very small sound would awaken him.
"Yes, and I believe it must be Mayhew. Are you starting to work your
hands free, Dick? Oh! lose no time, I beg!"
"It is nearly done," came in a breath from the other; for all this time
Dick had been working his hands as cleverly as he could, considering
the fact that they had been tied behind him as he stood against the
tree.
A slight movement on his part a minute later told the anxious Roger
that he had finally succeeded in accomplishing his task. His hands were
free, and wrestling with the knots in the thongs that bound his body to
the tree.
When Roger presently saw his companion move, and then slowly sink down
to the ground, he held his breath, for he knew that, so far as bonds
were concerned, Dick was no longer a prisoner.
His next move would be to reach after that convenient knife, thrust
into the tree close by. Roger turned his eyes in the other direction.
His greatest fear now was that one of the sleeping braves might wake
up, and spoil all their plans.
When he saw no sign of such a thing his heart beat a little less
tumultuously, and he breathed freely once more. But it was a period of
suspense Roger would never forget.
Even the slight sound made by a passing breeze struck a note of deadly
fear in the heart of the waiting lad; it seemed to be a crash of
thunder that would surely arouse the whole camp. Yet no one so much as
stirred.
Dick had obtained the knife, it seemed. Roger could feel him at work.
How it thrilled him to know that those painful bonds were about to fall
away, leaving him free to stretch his arms, and his lower limbs, so
dreadfully cramped during the hours that had passed since they tied him
there.
Dick, crouching behind the tree, had to work in the dark, and mostly
through instinct, his sense of touch taking the place of sight.
He was succeeding, at any rate, which must be reckoned the main thing.
Roger knew when the stout deerskin rope that kept him rigid against the
tree had been severed, for a hand instantly steadied him, lest he fall
over.
There now remained only the bonds about his wrists, and they were apt
to prove the most troublesome of all. What if the steel blade did give
him several scratches and slight cuts? He could stand almost anything
while hope of liberty swelled within him.
There, it was done at last! His hands fell limply at his sides, numb
and almost useless, for they had been tied much tighter than in Dick's
case.
The friendly hand plucked at his sleeve. Dick meant this as a sign that
they must be getting away without loss of time, since every second
spent there meant additional risk of discovery.
It appeared a simple matter for Roger to copy the example of his
comrade and drop to the ground, in order to crawl away; and yet, when
he came to do it, he found that his knees were almost rigid, and could
only be bent after a violent effort.
Dick must have planned everything beforehand. In times past he had
shown himself to be a master hand at laying out plans to be pursued in
emergencies, and while tied to the tree, observing all that went on in
the Indian camp, he surely had had plenty of opportunities to note the
conditions surrounding him.
At least he did not seem to be confused but went about the task of
leading his companion to safety as though it were all a part of a
schedule.
Dick had not quite understood the mute signals which Mayhew had made
when moving his hand above the bushes; but it seemed as if he meant to
let them know he was about to make his way to a point in their rear,
where he might find a better opportunity to assist them.
Dick hoped they would have the good fortune to run across the guide.
Three would be much better than two, surrounded as they were by so many
perils.
When Roger became aware of the fact that his pilot had stopped
abruptly, he felt a cold chill run over him, thinking it could only
mean that the discovery they feared was upon them.
Then he realized that Dick was softly laying hands on some objects that
had rested against a tree-trunk. Like a flash it dawned on Roger that
they must be their guns, for he recollected it was exactly in this
quarter they had noted the weapons.
What a wonderful fellow Dick was, apparently capable of remembering
everything, no matter how minute the detail might be! Roger breathed
easy again. He even managed to put out his hand and receive one of the
guns from his comrade, accompanied by a low hiss of warning.
Roger knew what was meant by this, and he was very careful that his gun
should not come in violent contact with the tree-trunk or the ground.
At that moment he chanced to look around, and what was his horror on
discovering that one of the Indians had raised his head! He seemed to
be looking straight at the two boys, and, as the flickering fire still
gave a small amount of light, he must surely have seen them.
Roger wanted to let Dick know, but his tongue clove to the roof of his
mouth, and he could not make a sound. Dick was now moving off again,
creeping along more like a great cat than a human being, so there was
nothing left for Roger to do but follow in his wake.
Every moment he expected to hear a yell of alarm from the Indian who
had been watching their movements. As each second passed, Roger was
certain that the cry was bound to break forth with the coming of the
next.
His feet dragged like lead, because he believed the attempt to escape
was bound to be useless, and that they could not possibly get away. He
counted the passage of time by the throbs of his heart.
Once a twig flew up and struck Roger on the knee. It was a blow as
light as the falling of a leaf, yet to the boy it seemed as though a
heavy hand had been suddenly laid upon him.
But, strangely enough, nothing happened! No yell rang out; nor was
there an uprising of those dusky forms that lay about the smoldering
fire. Foot by foot the ground was passed over, and in a brief time they
might hope to gain the shelter of the friendly bushes back of which
Mayhew, it was hoped, would be found.
Still Roger dared not believe the escape would be effected without an
explosion of some sort. He knew that the pioneers classed all Indians
with the cat tribe in regard to craftiness and cruelty. How many times
had he, as a small lad, watched their pet cat catch a mouse, and then
play with the doomed animal, letting it go just for the pleasure of
pouncing on it afresh.
The conviction that pressed so heavily on his heart now was that this
brave was simply waiting until the escaping prisoners had gained a
certain point, when he would give the cry that would send the red
inmates of the camp after them in hot haste.
But now they were at the fringe of bushes, and Dick had even commenced
creeping around one end of the break, afraid to enter lest they cause a
rustling that would imperil their safety.
Roger summoned all his nerve and looked back. To his amazement he saw
that the watchful brave still had his head partly raised, and was, to
all appearances, looking after them.
It was a mystery in the boy's mind that ranked with those strange
things they had continued to discover ever since invading this Land
of Wonders. That the warrior saw them making their escape, and still
refrained from giving the alarm, was a fact beyond his comprehension.
Dick was moving faster now, though still taking pains not to make
any sound that could be possibly avoided. Then Roger caught the low,
tremulous note of a bird, hardly more than a chirp. Was that Mayhew
trying to let them know he was close by? Roger hoped so with all his
heart.
He could barely see Dick's bulk just ahead of him, and it was on it
that he fastened his gaze. If the pilot suddenly came to a pause, Roger
meant to be in a condition to instantly follow suit.
Whispering caught his ear. Surely Dick was not talking to himself, but
must have come in contact with the creeping guide. All seemed going
well, and, so far, there had been no alarm from the camp.
A minute later he knew that Dick was no longer on his hands and knees,
but had gained his feet. This meant that the time had come when they
might take more chances, and increase the swiftness of their flight.
Roger noted, too, that there was another figure ahead of his cousin,
which he knew could be no other than the guide, gallant Mayhew, who
had scorned to seek safety for himself while his young friends were in
peril.
Far away could be heard the dismal howling of a wolf pack. An owl sent
out a mournful hoot from the depths of the pine woods on the side of
the mountain. But back there, where the dying camp fire flickered, and
the red men slumbered, not a sound arose. Roger marveled more than
ever. He knew that his eyes had not deceived him, and that the Indian
had actually watched them making their escape. But what magic had
rendered his tongue mute the boy could not guess.
When half a mile had been placed between them and the hostile camp Dick
broke the silence.
"Do you think we are safe away, Mayhew?" he asked, cautiously.
"It looks that way," replied the figure plodding ahead of the boys;
"and I must say it beats all how you managed to get free from those
deerskin thongs. There are other things that puzzle me, too; but all
that can keep until later.
"Oh! I am glad to hear you say you believe we are well out of that
fix!" exclaimed Roger, who had looked back nervously over his shoulder
many times, and even shuddered at hearing the slightest rustling sound,
dreading lest the tricky Indians might be creeping after them, and
suddenly awaken the echoes of the pine forest with their war-whoops.
"It was one of the closest calls we ever had," admitted Dick.
"And we have known a good many of them," added Roger, with a slight
return of his old feeling of elation, for the reaction was beginning
to set in, so that from the depths of despair he would soon find
himself elevated to the heights of exultation.
"One thing that none of us has thought to notice so far," commented
Dick, "is that it has at last commenced to snow as though it meant
business." When he brought this fact to their attention the others
perceived that it was indeed so, for already the ground had begun to
turn white.
CHAPTER XXIV
AN INDIAN'S GRATITUDE
FOR some time the three fugitives plodded through the pine forest that
lay along the side of the mountain ridge, enclosing the wide valley in
which the camp of the Indians had been pitched.
The snow was coming down in earnest now. It acted as though bent on
making up for lost time; and, unless all signs failed, there would be
an exceedingly heavy fall before they saw the sun again.
One comfort they found in this coming of the white mantle--they could
not be tracked by Lascelles and his allies when their escape was
discovered.
"Dick!" ventured Roger, after quite a long time had elapsed, and they
found the snow getting constantly deeper underfoot.
"Well?"
"We have our guns, it is true, and that I count a fine thing, but of
what use are they to us without our powder horns?"
"That was our misfortune, Roger, but we can borrow from Mayhew here. By
being prudent we ought to make his supply go around."
Imagine the feelings of the two boys when the guide gave utterance to
an exclamation of disgust and chagrin.
"I hate to tell you, lads," he said, "but it must have happened during
my flight. I had fired twice, and given the red hounds cause to be
sorry they chased after me; and then I suddenly missed my powder horn.
It must have been torn loose while I was passing through some dense
bushes."
"Did you go back and try to find it?" asked Dick, while Roger seemed
mute with consternation.
"Yes, but it was no use," replied the guide, "and I had to give it up."
"Then we are in a bad way, without any ammunition for our guns," Dick
continued, though he did not attempt to criticize Mayhew, for he
realized that, after all, it had been an accident, liable to happen to
any one, and he felt sure the frontiersman must be suffering in his
mind on account of it.
"I have the load in my gun, and one in my pistol," said Mayhew.
"Besides that I found a little powder wrapped in a paper in one of
my pockets, enough to charge one of your guns, and some left over for
priming."
"That was lucky, at any rate; how came you to have it with you?" asked
Dick.
"I remember that, some time before I left on that trip back to the
Missouri and down to the outposts of civilization, I was cleaning out
my powder horn, and the little it contained I placed in that paper, and
then in my pocket. I forgot all about it when I filled the horn from
the stores. Now, it may be, that one charge will stand between us and
starvation."
"Oh! I hope it will never get as bad as that, Mayhew," said Dick; and
yet, deep down in his heart, he knew they were facing a desperate
condition, so far away from the rest of the expedition, and surrounded
by perils of every type.
"Two charges in all!" summed up Roger, finding his voice. "That means
that we must make each one tell. And, Dick, I want you to load your gun
with that spare powder Mayhew has. You are a surer shot than I, and
when we use that load it must bring returns."
"We'll see about that later on," was all Dick replied.
"But now that we can talk without running any danger," continued Roger,
anxious to learn whether either of the others had noticed the same
strange happening in the camp of Blackfeet, "I want to ask you why that
Indian, who was watching us go away, failed to give the alarm?"
Dick stopped short. He seemed to be astonished beyond measure at what
the other had just said.
"Do you mean to tell me, Roger, that you believe any such thing?" he
asked.
"I certainly do," came the response. "I looked back more times than
I can tell you, and there he was, craning his neck and watching
everything we did. To the very last I saw him still looking."
"Yes, he is right!" declared Mayhew, breaking in upon the dialogue as
though he, too, had been grappling with a mystery that he could not
understand. "I saw the same thing. The Indian was watching you, I could
swear to that. Once he dropped his head, only to raise it again. He
seemed to be having some difficulty about holding himself up long, for
he was bandaged about the shoulder."
"Oh!"
The way Dick said that one word told Roger that he must have seen a
great light. But why should Dick show signs of satisfaction; for that
was clearly expressed in his tone?
"You have guessed the answer, Dick?" exclaimed Roger, hastily. "Please
tell us what it is, because, for one, I am groping in the dark."
"You heard what Mayhew just said, and how the man who looked was
wounded in the shoulder? Stop and think, and you will remember that
he must be the one who had chased after Mayhew, and came back with a
bullet wound in the muscles of his shoulder."
"Which you dressed as neatly as any doctor could have done it," said
Roger.
"At the time the brave gave little sign that he was grateful,"
continued Dick, as he figured things out; "but you know that all
Indians practice hiding their real feelings. They think it weak to show
signs of fear or anything like that. But, at the same time, an Indian
can be grateful, and I believe that brave proved it."
"He did, oh! he did!" exclaimed Roger, no longer groping in darkness
since Dick had thrown light on the mystery. "He knew we were escaping,
but he could not find it in his heart to betray the one who had been so
kind to him! I shall never believe so badly of Indians after this. My
father was right when he told me they could be reached by kindness; and
surely he and Uncle Bob ought to know."
Somehow all of them fell silent for some time. No doubt they were
thinking how strangely they had been favored by Providence. (Note 9.)
Several hours had elapsed since the escape, and they were some distance
away from the scene of the adventure. The snow was more than ankle
deep, and coming down at a furious rate.
Walking was difficult, especially since all of them were weary, and
in great need of rest. Roger staggered at times, and once fell flat,
though he hastened to assure the others, as he scrambled to his feet,
that he had not suffered by his awkwardness.
"We will have to seek shelter of some sort," declared Dick, finally.
Apparently the frontiersman was only waiting to hear something like
this; for, as a grown man, he did not fancy being the first to call
quits, as long as those boys saw fit to keep on tramping.
"It would not be a bad idea, I think," he now remarked.
"If we could have a fire like we did that other night it would feel
good to me," Roger told them.
"We might try," said Dick.
"And when morning comes, how about breakfast?" continued Roger. "What
meat I had was taken away from me, and you must be in the same fix."
"Yes, they thought it was useless to let me keep on carrying fresh elk
meat when we all needed something to eat. But I am thankful they left
me my ditty bag; and I have my knife too, you remember. How about you,
Mayhew?"
"I still have some meat with me; about enough for one meal around,"
replied the guide. "After that is gone we will have to shoot game of
some sort, either elk or buffalo, so as to lay in a stock."
"Here is a place that looks as though it would afford shelter from
the storm among these fissures in the rock," announced Dick, which
declaration brought cheer to the heart of Roger.
A little investigation, the best that conditions allowed, showed them
that they could enter one of the fissures and avoid the sweep of the
rising wind that was now causing the snow to blow in sheets.
Determined to do all in their power to obtain some comfort, they
selected the best shelter, and then crept within. Roger was the first
to discover some scattered bits of wood lying around, a tree that grew
further up the abrupt face of the mountain having dropped some of its
branches.
Accordingly they obtained a light by means of the tinderbox and flint
and steel. This enabled them to collect some of the fuel, and in the
end they had a cheery fire.
Sitting near this for an hour made them so sleepy that they were glad
to roll over wherever they chanced to be, and give themselves up to
slumber.
The snow continued to fall heavily during the balance of the night.
The wind howled through the adjacent trees in a mournful fashion, but
within that fissure all was peaceful.
Once or twice the old frontiersman would awaken on feeling cold, and
toss more fuel on the smoldering embers of the fire, after which he
would again lie down.
So morning found them. They would not have known that the day had come
if Dick had not made his way to the mouth of the fissure and looked
out. Apparently some hunter instinct had warned him that sleeping time
had passed.
The snow was falling as thickly as ever. There was already a foot, and
more, of it on the ground. Up on the mountain, where a previous fall
had remained, it probably was twice as deep.
To go out while the storm prevailed was hardly wise, much as the boys
wanted to be on the move.
Dick had taken note of certain things while the French trader was
talking to them, and particularly of the fact that, when Lascelles
spoke of the "other camp" in which Jasper Williams was held a prisoner,
he had, possibly unconsciously, nodded toward the east.
It was in that direction the great lake lay of which they had heard so
much, and from one thing and another Dick came to the conclusion that
the camp must be located on the border of this large body of water.
Roger was looking anxiously at the meager stock of meat which Mayhew
had produced from his pockets. There might be enough to satisfy their
present hunger, but, once it was gone, the future did not seem very
inviting.
They cooked it as on the former occasion.
"And it tastes much better than that the Indians gave us," Roger
asserted, for the Blackfeet took little pains to keep the meat from
scorching, and this had given it a taste not at all pleasant to the
boys.
All too soon was breakfast over, and the last scrap of meat devoured.
Roger heaved a sigh of regret as he wiped his mouth on the back of his
hand.
"I wish I knew where we would get the next bite," he remarked. "It
seems to me we eat in queer places on this trip. But I wouldn't mind
that so much if I only felt sure there _would_ be another meal."
After that they sat around and talked as they attended to the fire. Now
and then one of them would get up to make another hunt for fuel, the
stock of which was beginning to get low.
It was far from a pleasant prospect staring them in the face. The
wonder was how Dick could appear to be so cheerful through it all, and
keep on saying he felt certain it would all come out right in the end.
Roger at least had the good sense to keep his fears to himself.
Whenever he felt that he could almost give a shout, such was the
nervous tension under which he was laboring, he would jump up and busy
himself in hunting wood. In action he managed to gain control over his
nerves, so that he could resume his seat, and once more listen to what
the others were debating.
Plans were gravely discussed. To hear Dick laying these out one would
never dream that they were based upon such a slender shred of hope.
Two charges in their guns; many days' journey from the home camp;
surrounded by mysterious workings of Nature calculated to make most
men flee in terror; sought after by a revengeful French trader and his
Indian allies; and now overtaken by a snowstorm that promised to make
traveling additionally difficult--what a prospect for two half-grown
lads and a single man to face!
The last time Dick came back from making an investigation as to the
conditions outside, he brought a little satisfactory news. The snow was
falling in diminished volume, and there was a promise that by another
hour it might cease entirely. Then they could issue forth, and begin to
beat their way toward that section of the country where they believed
the big lake to lie.
Hardly had he imparted this information than they were startled by a
deep roaring noise from without. It seemed as though the foundations of
the mountain were shaken and, remembering what a strange country they
were in, Roger could hardly be blamed for starting up with a cry of
alarm.
The light that came in through the mouth of the fissure suddenly gave
way to darkness; only the flickering gleam of their fire remaining to
show them which way to move.
"Oh, what has happened now?" asked Roger, and as usual Dick seemed to
know.
"It is a snow avalanche," he told them, "and I am afraid it has blocked
our only means of leaving here, so that we are once more prisoners!"
CHAPTER XXV
THE SNOW AVALANCHE
"A SNOW avalanche!" echoed Roger. "Do you mean it has come down from
the side of the mountain, and filled the opening we used to get in
here?"
"Yes," explained Dick, "that is what has happened, as near as I can
tell. But, after all, it may not be so serious a thing. We will see
what can be done about breaking through."
"We have to get out some way or other, that's sure!" declared Roger, as
he hurried along after his cousin, now heading for the place where the
exit had been.
This was now filled by a tightly-wedged mass of snow. When they thrust
the butts of their guns against it they were amazed to discover how
firmly it had become packed.
"Why, it is like so much ice!" exclaimed Roger.
"Almost," added the more conservative Dick, "though you can dig into it
by working hard. If we only had shovels here we might do something."
"But how long ought it take us to burrow through?" demanded Roger, with
a note of dismay in his voice.
"That depends on how thick the wedge turns out to be," replied Dick.
"If it is five feet, we could make it in an hour or so. If deeper
through than that, it would take us much longer."
"And the worst of it is we haven't a scrap of food along with us,"
Roger complained. "If we were well supplied in that way I'd think it of
less importance."
"We must get out, one way or another," continued Dick, grimly, "and the
first thing we ought to learn is where the weakest part of the blockade
lies."
"As it came down on the run," Roger figured, "it seems to me the
greatest amount of snow would gather at the base. How about that, Dick?"
"You are right, and it will pay us to attack the barrier as high up as
we can get. There may be some sticks of wood left back yonder, which we
can use to dig with. Let us take a look."
A close search produced three fragments of branches that could be
utilized as makeshift shovels; at least they would be able to dig after
a fashion into the hard barrier, and then collect the loosened material
by scooping it up in their hands to be thrown away.
It promised to be slow and painful work, but none of them dreamed of
complaining. There was so much at stake that even Roger had to forget
his natural feelings and devote himself to vigorous work.
First of all Dick climbed up the best way he could, and found out how
they could secure a footing in order to attack the snow blockade higher
up. When this had once been settled they began.
Since all of them could not get at the small space marked out, they
tried it in relays. While two dug the third one rested; and when one of
the others gave out he took the vacant place.
The fire dwindled away and finally seemed to go out entirely. They
could spare no time in order to search for more fuel; besides, while
devoting every energy to the task before them, none of them felt at all
cold.
"What are the prospects, Dick?" asked Roger, as he hastened to take
the other's place in turn, having had a good rest.
"It strikes me the snow is packed lighter than what we struck at first;
what do you think about it, Mayhew?"
The frontiersman was always willing to advance an opinion after it had
been asked, though he would seldom speak first. So now he stopped to
take in a few good breaths, and then made reply.
"I was just thinking the same way myself, to tell you the truth. And
it goes to show that we must be getting near the outside, where the
pressure is much less."
"Then we may break through at any time; is that it?" asked Dick.
After a short time Roger gave utterance to a shout.
"I'm through the layer of packed snow!" he exclaimed jubilantly. "See,
here is a place where a stick cuts into it as easy as it would through
a pear. We have won out, Dick; and in a little while we ought to see
the outside world again."
On investigation it was discovered that there was good reason for
Roger's jubilation. They had bored through the bank of snow that
filled the opening, thanks to the wisdom shown in attacking it at its
weakest point.
Five minutes afterwards a hole had been made sufficiently large to
allow of their crawling through it to freedom.
The snow had ceased falling, although there did not seem to be a break
in the clouds overhead. It was much over a foot on the level, and in
some places, where the wind had drifted it, they found it would pay
them to go around rather than wade directly through.
"That way leads to where we had our bitter experience last night,"
said Dick, as he pointed toward the southwest. "We do not want to see
Lascelles and his red allies again, if we can help it, so we will not
turn in that direction."
"If we ever do have to meet him face to face," added Roger, "let us
hope it will be when we have plenty of powder and bullets for our guns.
If the cowardly rascal had not kept himself hidden behind that tree,
while the fight was going on, I would have made sure that my lead found
him. He is the worst enemy our families know, for he would rob them of
their homes."
"I felt the same way," confessed Dick; "but he was too smart for us. I
think he must have guessed he would be the first target for our guns.
Still, we must remember that even Lascelles is not as bad as he might
be. He would not allow the Indians to kill us on the spot, for one
thing, as some renegades would have done."
"Well, after all," Roger continued, "it is a question in my mind
whether he saved us because he had a streak of decency in him, or for
some other reason. Perhaps he meant we should be carried off by those
Blackfeet to their village, and adopted into the tribe."
"It might be as you say," admitted Dick, "for he told us that was what
he meant them to do with Jasper Williams. It would be getting well rid
of troublesome enemies, because there would be little chance of our
ever coming back."
"Now that we have burrowed out of that trap, what is the next move,
Dick?"
"I think we have decided already that we will not start back to the
camp. Badly off as we are, we have come a long way after Williams, and,
now that we know he is not a great many miles away, we must find him!"
"If what that trader said is true Jasper needs us, too," declared Roger.
"If he is a prisoner we are bound to do all we can to rescue him," said
the other boy, although it required no little fortitude to be able to
decide in this way.
In one direction lay comfort and safety; in the other direction they
must expect to find danger in many shapes, privations such as hunger
and exhaustion, and, for aught they knew, death itself might lie in
wait. Yet, in spite of all this, neither Dick nor Roger hesitated.
"Then it is on with us to the Frenchmen's camp!" said Roger.
It was in that spirit they made their start. Just how far away the
mysterious sheet of water lay they could not tell. It might be three
miles, it might be twenty, for all they knew. Vague stories concerning
it had drifted into the explorers' camp from various sources. Trappers
who had caught a glimpse of it gave wonderful accounts concerning its
vast extent. Indians recounted the most marvelous tales of its being
the home of the mighty Evil Spirit that possessed the Enchanted Land.
The boys were not free from a certain amount of superstitious awe; for
human nature had not progressed as far along certain lines a hundred
years ago as in these later days. But they possessed bold hearts, and,
animated by that single purpose of serving those they loved, they were
willing to dare anything rather than give up the quest.
It was in this frame of mind, then, that they began heading into the
east, trudging uncomplainingly through heaps of snow that often came to
their waists, and keeping a constant lookout for either game or human
enemies.
CHAPTER XXVI
TRACKING A BUFFALO
"THEY are all snowed under, I fear, Dick!" Roger thus remarked after
they had been struggling along for some time, without seeing a living
thing save some crows that flew over the tree-tops, cawing at the three
palefaces as though scornfully demanding to know what they were doing
so far away from their kind.
"If you mean the small animals, such as rabbits, foxes, mink and such,"
Dick answered, "I suppose it is so, though in time they must work their
way through the snow or die. But elk can move around still. They are
broad-chested and able to bound over or break through the drifts."
"Then why have we failed to see a single elk, or a lone buffalo?" asked
Roger, as though he took it as a personal grievance.
"I can only give a guess at the answer."
"And I'm sure it will be a good guess then, Dick, for you seem to study
the habits of everything that moves, from a beaver building his dam to
the antelope we coax up within gun-shot by waving a red piece of cloth.
What do you think is the reason all big game is lacking about here?"
"The animals must know of some places, more favored than others," Dick
explained, "where the grass stays fairly green throughout the winter.
Snows may come and melt, and the cold waves be tempered by hot springs
every little while."
"Then I wish we could run across another of those boiling springs
before it gets dark, and find a herd of elk hanging around it," and
Roger undoubtedly meant every word he spoke.
As the day had been pretty well along when they managed to break out of
their snow prison they could not hope, before night, to get any great
distance on the way to the big lake.
This being the case, it was really a matter of greater importance to
Dick and his two companions that they succeed in their quest for food
than that they cover any considerable distance before camping.
The prospect of another long night, without a morsel of food to stay
the pangs of hunger, appalled them. Dick himself felt badly about it,
although he managed, as usual, to hide his growing disappointment
better than Roger, partly for the sake of cheering the other up.
"There is one thing none of us seem to have noticed," Dick observed,
after another half hour had crept by; "the clouds have broken, and we
may even see the sun before it sets."
"That is certainly cheering news," Roger returned; "because if we had
another fall of snow on top of this, winter would set in 'for keeps.'
And we did hope to be safe back in camp before that."
Before Dick could make any further remark an exclamation from Mayhew
drew the attention of the two lads. The guide happened to be a little
ahead of them at the time, and was now seen to be beckoning eagerly.
"He must have struck the trail of an elk at last!" exclaimed Roger,
showing all the signs of the eager hunter.
"It looks that way," admitted his cousin, "because he seems to be
pointing down at his feet, as though something he had discovered
interested him."
"Oh! I hope it turns out that way, and that if it is a trail it was not
made by a file of reds, or some of those ugly French trappers."
They were hurrying forward while exchanging these remarks, and speedily
reached Mayhew's side.
"What is it?" asked Roger, immediately.
"A fresh trail!" came the answer, and, looking down, the boys could see
for themselves where some large animal had pushed through the deep snow.
"An elk?" Dick inquired.
"No, a buffalo, I believe," came the reply.
"One or the other, what do we care, so long as we can bag him?"
commented Roger. "So let us be on the move. Every minute counts, with
the sun so low in the western sky, and night coming on."
There was indeed need of haste, for the short afternoon would soon
be gone and, unless they had the good fortune to overtake the stray
buffalo within half an hour or so, all their hopes would be dashed.
They immediately started forward; but the depth of the snow in places
retarded their progress, and Roger often drew long breaths that stood
for impatience, for he dared not vent his feelings aloud.
Dick, who was always observing little things, discovered that the
breeze favored them. The buffalo was heading up into the quarter
whence the wind came. This is the habit of most animals, since it
allows them an opportunity to scent any lurking danger ahead, such as a
panther stretched on a limb and waiting to spring upon them in passing.
Mayhew, who was a first-class tracker, every now and then took a look
at the trail as though to decide what chance they had of overtaking the
struggling buffalo before night fell.
He made no comment, but Dick, who watched his face, felt that the guide
did not feel any too sanguine. Evidently from certain signs, well known
to one of his broad experience, Mayhew knew that they were still some
distance in the rear of the quarry and that, unless for some reason the
lone buffalo chose to stop while on his way to a feeding ground, there
was little likelihood of their coming up with him.
Accordingly, Dick was already making up his mind to "grin and bear it,"
as Uncle Sandy was in the habit of saying when things could not be
changed, and he had to stand for whatever came along.
Roger kept a bright lookout ahead. He hoped to be the first to discover
the huge animal outlined against the white snow. Perhaps Roger had
even figured in his mind just how they would approach as near as they
could, and then, when their presence was discovered, and the buffalo
tried to escape, they would give chase.
If the animal was tired after floundering so long through the deep
drifts they would likely soon be able to come up with him, when a
single shot might do the business. Roger did not forget that their
ammunition was low, and that it would never do for them to be wasteful
of powder and ball.
The sun presently shone forth, but it was close down to the top of the
ridge far to the west, and liable to dip out of sight at any time.
"The sun has set!" said Roger, presently, in a tone of bitter
disappointment.
"And we will have to give up soon, I fear," Dick told him; "because,
while meat would be a fine thing to have, we must first of all think of
passing the night without being frozen to death."
"It is going to be cold, that's a fact," admitted Roger, trying to show
that he could grapple with the situation and not betray weakness.
Mayhew took a last look at the tracks, while the boys awaited his
decision with the deepest anxiety. When they saw the guide shake his
head in the negative they knew luck had gone against them, and that
this meant a supperless camp.
"We have gained a heap on the critter," Mayhew declared, "but he was
still going strong when he passed here."
"How long ago?" asked Dick.
"Nigh on half an hour, I should judge," came the answer.
"Then we must call quits, and devote all our attention to finding a
camp," Dick determined. "With a fire going we will not feel quite so
badly as in the cold."
"Then we mean to keep up a blaze all night, no matter what the risk?"
demanded Roger.
"Of course we can try to hide the fire some," explained the guide; "but
on a cold night like this the reds are not apt to be moving, and the
risk will be slight."
"Well, if the rest can stand it, I ought to, so now let us begin in
earnest to find a camping-ground," and Roger started looking to the
right and left as though he did not want to lose a minute.
Indeed, at that season of the year in this far northern clime, while
the twilight might linger for an hour or more, once the sun had set
they could not see well under the canopy of pines. These, in places,
had kept much of the snow from reaching the ground, and there was a
reasonable hope that they could run across some spot that offered
shelter from the piercing night wind.
Mayhew was so well versed in backwoods lore that he could be depended
on to locate such a camp ground. If necessary they could build a
windbreak out of branches, and behind this make their fire.
Before long the guide gave them to understand that he had sighted what
seemed to be an admirable spot for passing the night.
"Over yonder you can see where I mean," he told them, pointing as he
spoke; and even Roger was forced to admit that it offered advantages
other places had lacked.
Mayhew took his hatchet and cut several slabs from the bark of a
tree. It was to be noticed that he did this on the side nearest their
intended camp; but neither of the pioneer boys asked why this was done,
because their hunter instinct told them Mayhew was only leaving his
mark so that in the morning they would lose no time in picking up the
trail of the lone buffalo.
Once they arrived at the spot selected as their next camp all started
to work. Dick and Mayhew began to erect a thick screen of brush on the
windward side, while Roger collected fuel wherever he could find it.
When he had made quite a pile of broken limbs, and splinters from
a fallen pine tree, Roger got out his tinder-box and flints, and
presently the rising smoke told that his fire was a success.
As the night closed in around them it was a rather cheery scene that
Roger looked upon, while engaged in gathering a further supply of wood,
perhaps twenty or thirty paces away. His two companions were still
engaged in adding the finishing touches to the barricade; the flames
leaped up with a snap and a sparkle, and the glow of the fire seemed to
give the surrounding snow a rosy tint that did much to take away its
cold look.
Roger sighed as he tightened his belt, drawing it up another notch, a
familiar habit with hungry men.
"I think we will have to call this Camp Starvation, Dick," he remarked,
as he threw down the armful of fuel he had collected.
"No, that would hardly be a proper name for it," the other told him
immediately; "because we haven't reached that point yet. I mean to put
it down in my memory as Camp Hope!"
Roger must have been abashed by the gentle reproach in Dick's
declaration, for he did not make any reply until several minutes had
passed. Perhaps he may have been weighing in his mind the many reasons
they had to be thankful, in spite of the dark clouds hanging over their
heads, for when he did speak up it was to say:
"Yes, we will call it Camp Hope, Dick."
CHAPTER XXVII
FIRE FANCIES
PERHAPS they were taking some chances as they sat there by their fire
that evening; but there was no help for it. Being without blankets or
any furs to keep them warm when sleep overcame them, they dared not
risk being frozen as the cold became more intense with the passing of
the night.
Roger meant to show as cheery a face as he could, but somehow he
could not seem to think of anything but the delights of eating. It is
doubtless so with all who have been deprived of their customary food
for an unusual time.
"Do you know, Dick," he said, as he sat hugging his knees and staring
into the crackling flames, "I was just thinking how, many a night, when
the wind would be whistling around the corners of our cabin, Sister
Mary and myself used to sit and look into a roaring fire like this,
one on either side of the big hearth. I can picture her sitting there
to-night, with mother and father close by. And, Dick, perhaps they are
talking about us, wondering whether they will ever see us again."
Dick moved uneasily as he listened, for, to tell the truth, his
thoughts had also gone roaming back to the dearly loved home, and
in imagination he was following the forms of his mother, father and
brother, as they moved to and fro in the well-remembered living room.
Immediately afterwards Roger's plaint took another turn, induced no
doubt by the feeling of emptiness that caused him such uneasiness.
"Yes, and it seems to me I can even catch the fine odor of the stew
that is cooking in the big black pot swinging over the fire, with the
lid lifting to let out the clouds of steam. And oh! Dick, how splendid
it used to smell, too! What wouldn't I give to be sitting down with a
plate of it heaped up before me, some of mother's tea in a tin cup and
a plate of her fried sweet-cakes to top off with."
Once Roger got started on that strain he seemed to take especial
delight in recollections of about every feast in which he had ever
indulged. Dick let him talk on undisturbed. How vividly he himself
could recall all those special occasions, when they had attended some
country dance among the settlers' young folks at harvest home times.
The faces of all the absent friends came clearly before him and,
spurred on by Roger's graphic descriptions, it seemed almost possible
to get a whiff of the fresh bread being taken from the big old Dutch
oven in which, as a small child, Dick had so often hidden from his
companions when they played games.
Roger prattled on as the hour grew late. It seemed as though his
recollections had no limit, judging from the way in which he kept
calling up events of happy days.
But finally Dick began to notice that he faltered now and then, and his
eyes gave evidences of approaching drowsiness. The warmth of the fire
was getting in its work and in the end Roger stretched out, "just to
rest his back a bit," as he explained to his companions. He soon began
to breathe regularly and Dick knew that he slept.
For a time at least the hungry boy would forget his gnawing pains,
though possibly his dreams would take on the joys of a feast, and the
awakening be all the more bitter in consequence.
"Poor Roger!" Dick said to himself, as he leaned over and gently drew
the flap of the sleeper's tunic closer about his neck, "I wish I had it
in my power to provide a substantial meal against your waking up; but
where it is to come from, unless it rains down from above, I fail to
see."
It was just like the generous nature of Dick Armstrong to forget his
own condition in feeling for another; Roger was as dear to him as his
own brother could be, since they had shared each other's joys and
sorrows ever since they were able to exchange confidences and fight
each other's battles.
That long night would never be forgotten, though they lived to an old
age. Little sleep visited Dick's eyes. This came partly from his sense
of hunger, but also on account of the serious condition that confronted
them.
Their long quest seemed to have been wrecked on the rocks, and that
after success had appeared to crown their efforts, which made it all
the harder to bear. Although Dick would not appear downcast while Roger
could see his face, he had numerous doubts to wrestle with in the
silence of the night, and secretly groaned in spirit many times.
During his wakeful hours he often caught the distant howling of a wolf
pack. This coming of the first deep snow of the winter would make their
task of securing daily food the more difficult, and it seemed to the
listener that there was an additional mournfulness to those long-drawn
sounds.
Once he also caught the scream of some other beast in the pine woods.
Although it was not repeated, Dick believed it must have come from a
panther seeking his prey amidst the snowy aisles of the forest.
Mayhew, too, must have been wakeful, for several times when Dick
happened to be dozing he arose and threw more wood on the fire.
When the stars told Dick morning was at hand he felt as though a
terrible load had been taken from his mind. With ten hours of daylight
before them they must surely be able to obtain meat and satisfy their
craving for food.
While the other two were sitting cross-legged by the fire, and talking
in low tones, Roger suddenly sat up. He stared hard at them, and dug
his knuckles into his eyes, as though he could not believe what he saw.
Dick knew from the indications that he must have been far away in his
sleep, and that the disappointment struck him cruelly.
"So, it was all a dream after all, and mother was not calling me to get
up or the griddle cakes would be cold?" Roger remarked, dolefully. "Oh,
how fine they used to taste, with that wild honey smeared over them! Do
you remember the time when we brought in four heaping buckets of honey
from that bee-tree up on Juniper Creek, and how my left eye was closed
by a sting? But never was there such sweet stuff. And to think that we
have to go without a bite of breakfast this cold morning!"
"Just as soon as it gets a little lighter," said Dick, "we will be on
the move."
"Searching for something to eat, you mean, don't you?"
"Yes, whether it is that stray buffalo, or an elk, we will not be very
particular which," the other declared.
"Why, I think I could eat a--a wolf, almost, I'm that caved in,"
declared Roger, and no doubt he meant it, too.
The dawn was at hand. Eagerly they watched the pink flush spreading
across the eastern sky. With a change in the wind they could hear a
distinct muttering sound, and it was easy to picture some gushing
geyser in action, perhaps miles away.
Just as soon as they could see without trouble they turned their backs
on Camp Hope, and were soon following the trail of the buffalo.
"If I thought we would have any trouble about getting a supply of wood,
so as to start a fire in a hurry after we get our meat," Roger observed
before they abandoned the camp, "I'd be tempted to tote some of this
good fuel on my back."
"No need of doing anything like that," Dick assured him. "If there is
anything that is plentiful around here it is fuel for a fire. I already
have some small bits of choice stuff laid away for a time of need."
The wind had shifted the surface of the dry snow to some extent, so
that in places they found the tracks of the buffalo almost covered. But
Mayhew was a born trailer, and found no difficulty in following the
animal.
"You see," he told the boys at one time, "this may be a good thing for
us, because we can tell where the beast started fresh this morning."
It was not twenty minutes after he made this remark when the scout
joyously showed them where the buffalo had spent the night. They could
plainly see the imprint of his hairy coat in the snow where he had
lain down. The cold had no particular terror for such a rugged beast
and, as he went on in about the same general direction as his previous
trail, they believed they were right in assuming that the buffalo,
through instinct, knew where forage was to be found, and was heading
thither.
All possible haste was now made by the three pursuers. It meant much
to them that they presently overtake the quarry, or else run upon some
other game.
Roger was already feeling weak from lack of food. Only his will power
enabled him to keep alongside the others in that hot chase. He strained
his vision to the utmost, in the endeavor to be the first to discover
signs of the welcome presence of the big animal with the shaggy mane,
which it seemed was their only hope of staving off starvation.
When crows again flew overhead and continued their scornful cawing,
Roger several times aimed his empty gun up at them, as though he would
have liked to give the impudent birds of ill omen something to remember
him by.
"I really believe they must know we have so little ammunition that
nothing could tempt us to waste a grain of powder on them this day,"
he declared, angrily, when the clamor of crow scolding grew worse.
"Oh! at another time you would hardly pay any attention to them," Dick
told him. "Just now all of us feel a bit nervous, and ugly. Let them
scold if it does them any good. We haven't yet reached the point where
we could eat crow, even if we felt like wasting a shot on one."
It was sensible advice, and, just as Dick prophesied, the noisy flock
was soon left in their wake.
"I've heard some queer stories about crows," Mayhew remarked, "and how
they even hold a court to try some bird that has been bad. Once I found
a crow hanging by the neck dead in a wild grape-vine. Of course I could
never tell if it got there by accident, or was hanged by its mates; but
lots of people I told the story to said it looked mighty suspicious."
Dick laughed a little at that, but went on:
"I've sat in the woods many a time, myself, and watched a gathering of
crows. It seemed as though they came by squads from everywhere until
there were hundreds fluttering about the trees. And such a terrible
noise they kept up! It made me think of school when we have spelling
bees, and everybody is trying to call out at the same time."
"Yes," added Roger, trying to take some interest in things that would
cause him to forget his misery for even a brief period of time, "and
then they would fly off in a great cloud, dodging this way and that as
though it might be an army going to attack the fort of an enemy. Yes,
they are queer birds; but I don't like them to make fun of me when I'm
sick for something to eat."
"They acted to me as if they were warning us to go back!" suggested
Mayhew, a little uneasily. "I wonder why, and if there's anything up
this way that would give us trouble."
"It's open country just here," said Roger, "and nothing terrible in
sight. But I'd give a heap if we could only overtake that loping
buffalo. You said a while ago, didn't you, Mayhew, that he could only
be fifteen minutes or so ahead of us?"
"That is what his tracks tell me," the guide assented, "and we are
coming up on him all the while. If we fail to see him in the next half
hour I will be a disappointed man."
"Why, I must be getting weak on my pins, for it seems as if the ground
was trembling under me!" declared Roger, showing signs of sudden alarm.
Dick and the guide exchanged hasty glances. Apparently they were
feeling something of a similar nature, but could not lay it to the same
cause as Roger.
"It is getting much worse now," cried Mayhew, "and I can hear a
terrible grumbling down underneath me that I must say I don't like over
much!"
All of them were by this time aroused to a sense of their sudden peril;
but it was Dick who voiced the alarming truth.
"Run for your lives!" he shouted, "it must be a boiling fountain about
to burst, and we are right on top of the crater!"
CHAPTER XXVIII
WITH HOPEFUL HEARTS
FORGOTTEN at that minute were all their other troubles, as each made
hurried efforts to get away from the spot. The trembling of the rocks
told plainly enough that some convulsion of nature was about to take
place; and Dick's words gave evidence that he himself had discovered
where the yawning crater of the boiling spring lay amidst the half
melted snow.
Hardly had they gone back some thirty or forty feet when there burst
forth a vast volume of spray and steaming water that ascended high into
the air, reaching an altitude of possibly five score feet before it
lost its velocity, and began to rain downward.
Immediately the snow around the entire vicinity commenced to melt
with the heat of the falling water. With the sunlight falling on the
wonderful fountain the two boys thought they had never in all their
lives seen anything so sublime.
Mayhew was more alarmed than pleased by the spectacle. Its terror
appealed more to his backwoods nature than any beauty connected with
the display. Indeed, had he been there alone, the chances were Mayhew
would have taken to his heels, not being desirous of such close
acquaintance with things he could not comprehend.
After staring at the magical fountain for a brief time Roger once more
allowed his other nature to have sway.
"We are losing precious minutes, Dick!" he called out, for the roar
was so great that it was impossible to be heard unless the voice were
elevated. "This may be all very fine, but it doesn't seem to satisfy
the gnawing sensation inside me."
When Dick gave the word, Mayhew only too gladly once more led off.
"That buffalo must have known of this hot fountain, because he came
straight up to where it is," Roger remarked, after they had left the
spouting geyser behind them.
"Yes, but it seems that it rises only at long intervals," Dick
explained. "It may be that days pass without an outburst. That accounts
for the snow around, which disappeared so fast once the flow of hot
water began."
Roger seemed content to accept this version of the strange happening.
In fact it was now a past matter with him; his most urgent necessity
did not concern wonderful fountains at all, but provender. He had a
constant reminder with him that "nature abhors a vacuum," and that an
empty stomach gives its owner no peace.
"If we had stood where we were," said Dick, "the chances are some of us
might have been well cooked. My heart seemed to jump up in my throat
when you stumbled, Roger; but you managed to recover your balance and
come on."
"I confess that I was a bit worried myself about that time, Dick; but
as a rule I'm not so clumsy. Just now my legs seem weak and wobbly. It
must be that hunger is getting a good grip on me."
"All's well that ends well, they say," ventured Mayhew, stealing a
backward look over his shoulder at the still spouting geyser that
filled him with such uneasiness.
"When the buffalo found this place all covered with snow," continued
Roger, "so he could get not a mouthful of grass or fodder, he started
off again in the same general direction. Where do you reckon he is
striking out for now, Dick?"
"Oh, I suppose he knows of other places where he can feed, and is
headed for one of them," was the answer Dick gave.
"There, the noise is dying down back of us," Mayhew announced. "It
seems as though the show is over for this time. Yes, the column of hot
water and steam is only half as high, and getting less right along."
"It may lie quiet for another spell, perhaps days, before it breaks
out again," suggested Dick, which remark proved that he was arriving
at some conclusion respecting these remarkable geysers, in that he
believed they all had regular cycles for displaying their activities,
some frequent, others at much longer intervals, but all working with
clock-like fidelity.
Roger had already quite forgotten all about the recent scare. Once more
he was keeping his eyes on the alert for signs of that lone buffalo
which would mean so much to them.
He had pictured the animal so many times in his fancy that pretty soon
the tortured boy began "seeing things" that did not really exist.
"Look yonder, Dick," he would say huskily, "and tell me is that the
old bull just alongside that rock? Seems as though I can make out his
head as he stands there. Hadn't we better spread out, so as to surround
him?"
When Dick assured Roger that what he took to be the head of the buffalo
was only an outcropping of the massive rock the other seemed deeply
disappointed.
"I was dead sure it must be our game, Dick, indeed I was. But now I
see you are right, and it is a part of the rocky spur. How about that
brush heap ahead there; I may have been mistaken, Dick, but I thought I
could see something moving. It is too low down to hide a big buffalo,
but Indians might be lying there, waiting to knock us over. I hope they
have some pemmican along with them, for we could take it away, you see,
Dick; and even dry pemmican would taste pretty good now."
Dick began to feel a little worried about his cousin. It seemed to him
as though Roger was getting light-headed on account of his privations.
"Oh! if only we could catch up with that miserable buffalo bull," Dick
muttered to himself as he tramped along. "Either that, or else run
across an elk. Something has got to happen soon, or I'm afraid Roger
will keel over, or perhaps go out of his mind."
The situation was getting more desperate. Try as he would, Dick could
discover no way in which it might be alleviated. They must keep on
constantly and hope that before long they would come up with the animal
they had been tracking with the pertinacity of wolves.
He knew they were not making anything like the progress they could have
had to their credit if they had partaken of their customary portion of
food. Weakness had seized upon them, and, while the spirit was willing,
the flesh seemed to be lacking in the power to obey as promptly as they
would have liked.
Roger continued to discover suspicious objects from time to time.
Then his mood would change, and he could be heard laughing softly to
himself, as though the whole thing was appearing to him now in the
guise of a great joke.
"Poor fellow!" muttered Dick, when one of these spasms had passed off,
leaving Roger more morose than ever; "somehow he seems to feel it so
much more than either of us. I've got to the last hole in my belt now,
and I hope there may be no need of my making a fresh one."
When he looked toward Mayhew he saw that the scout's face had begun
to show signs of renewed eagerness. This gave Dick a thrill, as hope
once more commenced to flutter in his breast. Certainly Mayhew would
not look like that unless he had good reason to believe they were now
close upon the heels of the roving buffalo.
Then Mayhew raised a warning finger; at the same time he nodded his
head toward the muttering Roger. Dick comprehended the action; it meant
that some means should be taken to keep the other quiet, lest he warn
their quarry of their coming long before there was any necessity of
such a happening, and thus endanger the success of their stalking game.
Accordingly Dick hastened to get alongside his cousin. He laid a hand
on Roger's arm, and the other, raising his head, turned a pair of red
eyes upon Dick.
"Keep still, Roger!" hissed Dick, holding up a finger. "Mayhew says we
are right on the heels of the game. You must not speak a single word
above a whisper, or all may be ruined. Do you understand what I am
saying?"
"Of course I do, Dick," began the other, cautiously, as though aroused
by the joyous news, and coming back to his senses again. "I hope you
are not thinking me silly just because I've been complaining of feeling
hungry?"
"Never mind, now, it's going to be all right," said Dick, soothingly,
for he was afraid Roger might want to argue the matter with him. "As
you have an empty gun you must let us do the work."
"Oh, never fear about me, I understand!"
"Well, keep still now, Roger. Not another word, but hold yourself ready
to start that fire soon. If you listen hard you may hear the horn blow
for dinner like it does at home when we are out in the field. Silence
now, Mayhew must think he sees our game."
Indeed, the actions of the guide would give any one to understand
something like that. He was moving along with his body bent over, and
gripping his faithful rifle in both hands. Although both of the boys
used their eyes to the best advantage they could not see anything to
hearten them; but then the strain on their nerves, because of all that
blinding snow, may have had something to do with this failure.
Mayhew turned quickly toward them. He said not a word, but his lips
moved, and he nodded his head in a manner that thrilled the boys.
It had long ago been decided just what their tactics should be in case
they were so fortunate as to come up with the quarry. Neither of them
meant to fire until they had managed to get so close to the game that
one shot alone would be necessary to bring the animal down.
Of course, when their presence was discovered, the buffalo would start
off at as brisk a pace as possible, in order to escape from his human
enemies. They believed, however, the animal must be nearly tired out
from breasting the deep drifts so long, and that its burst of speed
could not last any great while.
If it became absolutely necessary, they were prepared to risk
everything on a long-distance shot, and the hope of wounding the
animal. This would hasten its halting at least, when it could be
dispatched at their pleasure, even though they used knife and hatchet
to accomplish this.
Roger must have been greatly impressed with what Dick had said to him,
for he remained perfectly still after that, at least so far as giving
voice to his feelings was concerned.
Dick had pushed on ahead of his cousin, as he had announced he intended
to do on account of holding one of the loaded guns. Side by side with
Mayhew he now advanced along the fresh trail. Even a novice could see
that some animal must have passed only a few minutes before, for there
were places where snow actually fell over into the tracks, as though
it had been balanced on the edge of the depression.
The anxious waiting that almost made them sick at heart ended at last.
Dick caught a scuffling sound that came from beyond the next line of
bushes. Something was moving there, and he could easily imagine that
the hungry buffalo, scenting some sort of grass under the snow, might
be trying to get down to it.
Bending lower still, they pushed on, with eyes glued on the spot where
those significant sounds came from. In another minute they would be
able to look over the tops of the bushes and see what lay beyond. Then,
if all was well, a lucky shot would procure them the meat of which they
were in such desperate need.
No one made a sound so far as Dick could tell, so it could not have
been that which gave warning to the suspicious buffalo. Perhaps a shift
in the wind carried some taint of their presence to his sensitive
nostrils and aroused his fears.
However that might be, Dick heard a sudden snort, and then there came
a shout of dismay from Roger, who, standing more erect than the rest,
must have been able to see what was going on beyond the bushes.
"He's on the run, Dick! Oh! hurry, and shoot, or he will get away from
us!"
As Dick and Mayhew cleared the bushes with great bounds they saw the
buffalo plunging into a deep drift and scattering the snow in every
direction. But what thrilled the two hunters was the fact that, in
dashing headlong into the drift, the beast had entered a trap from
which escape would not be easy.
CHAPTER XXIX
THE HUNTERS' FEAST
"HEAD him off!" Roger called from the rear, while he made all haste to
come up, even though he had an empty and useless gun, and could not be
of any assistance to his comrades.
The others had gauged the situation, and realized that their best move
was to follow directly after the animal, thus causing him to push
deeper into the trap. The heavy fall of snow, that they had grumbled at
so many times when struggling along knee-deep, now promised to be their
best ally.
In this fashion they presently found themselves close upon the
struggling bull. Floundering there he could not make much headway, and
at last in desperation the animal started to turn upon his pursuers.
They knew well what the result might be if they allowed the charge to
be carried out. One of them would be struck down by those wicked black
horns that adorned the shaggy head; and, worst of all, the animal was
likely to escape, since Roger could do little or nothing to stay his
flight over the back trail.
[Illustration: "THE BUFFALO WAS JUST IN THE ACT OF TURNING WHEN THE
FRONTIERSMAN FIRED"]
It had been arranged that Mayhew was to take the first shot, and they
hoped one would be sufficient, with the backing of knife and hatchet.
The buffalo was just in the act of turning when the frontiersman fired,
and in consequence Mayhew could hardly have asked for a better showing,
since one flank was wholly exposed.
At the time the marksman could not have been more than fifteen feet
away, and a miss was out of the question. Mayhew had hunted these huge
bison on numerous occasions, since he was one of those upon whom the
exploring party depended for a regular supply of fresh meat.
This being the case, he knew exactly where to place his bullet in order
to get the best results. As a consequence no sooner had he discharged
his gun, and drawn his hatchet in order to be prepared for the worst,
than he saw the animal stagger and fall in his tracks.
A vital spot must have been reached by the missile that was driven by
that heavy charge of powder; for the long-barreled guns of the pioneers
were powerful in their execution.
When Roger saw the quarry struggling in the snow-drift his
excitement became so great that he could not even shout, much as he
felt like so doing. Hurrying toward the spot, he fastened his hungry
eyes upon the animal whose efforts to rise were becoming more and more
feeble.
Presently Mayhew, watching his chance, stepped briskly forward and with
one well-aimed blow from the back of his hatchet finished the business.
"Hurrah!" gasped Roger, carried away by the importance of their
well-earned victory.
No doubt delightful visions immediately began to flit through his
brain, as in imagination he saw himself seated by a fire, and devouring
ration upon ration of savory buffalo meat.
"Remember your part of the transaction, Roger!" warned Dick, as, knife
in hand, he prepared to cut up the game.
"That means a fire!" answered the other, excitedly. "Hand me over the
fine stuff you said you had packed up, Dick. Oh! you can depend on me
to get things going in a hurry. There's a spot close by where I saw
plenty of wood. The snow was blown away somehow or other. Give me a
little time, and you will see smoke rising!"
Doubtless Roger had started scores, even hundreds, of fires in his
time; but it is certain that he never entered into the task with a
lighter heart than on this particular occasion. His very soul seemed
to be singing with joy as he hastily gathered up some of the wood most
easily obtained, and then, picking a good spot, proceeded to use flint
and steel with hopes of speedy results.
Finding that his very eagerness was delaying him, Roger called a
halt, took himself to task, and after that settled down grimly to
accomplishing his part of the proceedings without a hitch.
In a short time smoke began to curl upwards from his small beginning.
Blowing the feeble blaze he quickly had it taking hold in earnest.
The crackle and snap of the burning wood was music to the ears of the
almost delirious boy.
"The fire is ready, Dick!" he called out.
"Then come for some of the meat, and commence business," was the
welcome answer.
As there was nothing that Mayhew could do to assist in carving the dead
buffalo, he also was given various "hunks" of the meat, and presently
the two sat there by the fire, attending to a dozen or more sticks, on
the ends of which their long-delayed meal was being slowly browned.
Never in all his life had Roger felt so frantic upon smelling the
odor of cooking meat. It would have been just the same had their fare
consisted of venison, bear meat, or wild turkey; all he wanted was
something to satisfy that terrible craving which was overpowering him.
It must be confessed that Roger, unable to stand the suspense and
temptation longer, snatched the first piece from its stick before it
was half-cooked, and commenced to devour it like a savage.
He seemed to enjoy it, too, which fact caused the guide to speedily
follow his example and appropriate one of the sections for himself.
Dick, coming up just then with a further supply, first of all filled
the empty sticks with fresh portions, and then--well, Dick was just
as hungry as either of his comrades, and there was really no sense in
waiting any longer, so he made it unanimous!
After they had taken the sharp edge off their ravenous hunger the pace
was not quite so swift. They were willing to wait until the meat was
fairly well cooked; and by degrees it was noticed that they even began
to slacken in their attack.
At length Dick laughed as he remarked:
"I think I have reached my limit, and, as I hardly want to be called a
glutton, I mean to quit."
"One more piece will satisfy me--for a while at least," Roger confessed.
The guide also admitted that he believed he could contain no more.
Although possibly at another time Roger might have complained about the
fresh meat being tough, no one heard him utter a single word against
it on that occasion. It would be adding insult to injury to find fault
with something that had really been the means of saving their lives.
"While we have this fire," suggested Dick, "it would be a good idea to
cook some more of the meat. We may not be able to start another blaze
later on; the danger of being discovered and attacked might be too
great. What do you think about it, Mayhew?"
"It is a sensible idea, I must say," came the immediate reply.
As that settled it, Dick went over and proceeded to do some more work
with his keen-edged blade. They meant to take considerable of the
meat along with them at any rate; that much had been decided on long
before. With but another shot left between starvation and themselves,
they could not afford to be wasteful when good luck had thrown a chance
like this in their way.
Roger was quite a different sort of fellow, now that he no longer
experienced the tortures of an unappeased appetite. He could even look
hopefully into the future, and see glorious opportunities for carrying
out their plan of campaign. As Dick had truly said, what they had done
once could be accomplished again. Favored by the protecting hand of
Providence, they must surely be able to get the better of that cruel
and scheming French trader.
The big lake where the river had its source could not be many miles
away from where they now stood. They would push steadily on, and, upon
striking its shores, ascertain where the Frenchmen had their camp.
"They must have a fire in such cold weather," Roger argued, and the
others agreed with him, glad to find that he was looking at matters so
cheerfully. "And fire makes some kind of smoke, so we ought to be able
to tell where it is. Then, when the night comes, we can creep up and
set Jasper free."
How simple the program seemed now! The rocks heretofore appearing
almost unsurmountable diminished in size, and no longer stood as a
barrier that could not be scaled. A full stomach nearly always makes
one see things in a rosy light.
Finally it was decided they had cooked a sufficient supply of meat.
The balance that they expected to carry with them was made up in small
packages enclosed in portions of the buffalo hide and tied securely
with thongs.
As they were burdened with little save their guns, now almost useless
to them, these packages would not prove troublesome. Roger was willing
to load himself down with twice the amount, and bravely stagger under
it all, rather than risk the chance of suffering again the misery he
had endured.
"You feel sure the lake lies to the east of us, Mayhew, do you not?"
Roger asked the guide when they were ready to start, feeling ever so
much stronger, and able to push through the drifts where they could not
be skirted.
"Yes, everything points that way," he was assured by Mayhew. "From
the way that Frenchman pointed when he was talking to you both, Dick
figured that the lake was off in that direction. And then the crows
fly that way in the morning, and return again in the evening. That is a
pretty good sign, I take it."
Roger became interested at once. Here was something he had not thought
of noticing, and consequently he wished for more information.
"Tell me why that should be so," he asked, as they started.
"These crows do not drift south in the winter time," explained the
frontiersman. "They stay up here, and, as they must find feed when the
earth is covered under many feet of snow, they have learned that along
the shore of the big lake they can get what they need--dead fish and
all sorts of other things cast up by the waves."
"But what if the lake freezes over, as it may do in very hard winters?"
Roger questioned.
"Oh, they would still find things to eat on the ice," returned Mayhew.
"Being an open stretch, the wind would keep the snow from settling
there. But no matter, that is where they fly each morning; and you know
what hunters say about a direct line being as 'straight as the crow
flies.'"
"Mayhew is right, Roger," said Dick, "and the chances are as ten to one
that we are heading straight for the big lake right now."
For some time they made steady progress. Possibly they covered as much
as two miles when the guide was suddenly observed to come to a full
stop. Both of the boys followed suit. They were not ten feet behind
Mayhew, so it was possible for them to exchange words with him in low
tones. Dick it was who found his voice first, for Roger grew so excited
he became dumb for the time being.
"What is it, Mayhew?" asked Dick, half-elevating his gun, which
contained the only charge of powder and lead they possessed, and under
such conditions might be looked on as their sole means of defense in
case of threatening peril.
"There are Injuns near by," came the answer. "I saw a feathered head
rise above yonder bush; and, as I live, there are others on either side
of us. It looks as though we were surrounded!"
CHAPTER XXX
ALLIES WITH COPPER-COLORED SKINS
WHEN Mayhew made that dire announcement it sent a foreboding of coming
trouble straight to the hearts of his young companions.
If the wily red men had succeeded in surrounding them, so that there
was no chance of escape, they might as well give up all hope of
saving themselves from capture. Poor Roger, who had so recently been
brimming over with confidence concerning the ultimate success of their
expedition to the camp of the Frenchmen, now found himself sinking once
more into a pit of despair.
"What had we better do, Mayhew?" asked Dick, grimly.
"That is for you to decide," replied the scout. "Each one will have to
follow his own bent. As for myself, I know well that capture would mean
death at the stake for me. So I shall fight to the last gasp, and, if
the chance comes, try to make my escape as I did before. A man can die
but once, and better in battle than by fire."
Dick hardly knew what to say or do. He had a charge in his gun, it is
true, and with ordinary luck that might account for a single Indian;
but would it be the part of wisdom to enrage the savages by this rash
act?
He turned to the right and to the left. Yes, even as Mayhew had said,
there were enemies concealed everywhere, for he could see feathered
heads rising from behind various sheltering bushes.
Flight seemed impossible, and, while the thought of surrender chilled
his blood, it began to look as though there might be no other course.
Then all at once Roger heard his cousin give a low cry. It was not
alarm that rang in that utterance, but rather sudden surprise, even
hope. Roger could not guess what it meant, but turning toward his
comrade, he seized hold of his arm and stared in the other's face.
To his amazement Roger saw what looked like an expanding smile
beginning to appear there. He feared Dick must be going out of his
mind when he could show signs of pleasure upon facing such a terrible
condition as that by which they were now confronted.
"Mayhew, look again!" cried Dick. "Pay closer attention to the feathers
in their scalp-locks! Tell me if they are not different from the
feathers the Blackfeet wear!"
It was the frontiersman now who uttered a cry.
"Yes, yes, you are right, boy! These are not Blackfoot braves!"
"They are Sioux warriors, and, it may be, fresh from the village of our
friend, the chief, Running Elk!" said Dick.
Roger found his voice at hearing that glorious news.
"Try them, Dick!" he exclaimed, excitedly. "Give them the sign the
chief taught us! Let them know we are friends, and not enemies! Yes, I
can tell the feathers are those of our friends, the Sioux. It is going
to be all right after all!"
Dick meanwhile took out a piece of white linen he had with him and
started to wave it.
At the same time he made certain gesticulations with his other hand
that would have a meaning in the eyes of Sioux braves, if, as they
hoped, these hidden red men proved to be such.
At first no notice was taken of his signals. Perhaps the wily warriors
suspected that it might be some sort of trap to catch them unawares;
but, as Dick continued his motions, they presently met with a response.
Several Indians cautiously arose to their feet, making responsive
gestures. Then they started to advance toward the spot where the three
palefaces stood.
"Why," exploded Roger, "look at every bush giving up a brave! There
must be twenty of them, all told. How lucky for us they are Sioux, and
not Blackfeet, the allies of Lascelles."
From every quarter the Indians now advanced, forming a complete cordon
around Dick and his friends, who awaited their coming calmly, confident
as to the result of the meeting.
"Dick," said Roger, "I am sure I know that man in the lead, with the
feathers of a chief in his long black hair, and the bears' claws around
his neck."
"Yes," the other remarked, "I was just going to say the same thing. He
is a sub-chief by the name of Beaver Tail. Surely he should remember
us, and what we did to make his chief our friend."
"Will he remember us, do you think?" continued Roger, apprehensively.
"Have no fear," Dick assured him; "all will be well. An Indian, once
a friend, can be depended on forever. I am only too glad now I held my
fire."
As the first of the Indians came up, the boys waited anxiously to
see whether they would be recognized by the sub-chief. To their
satisfaction Beaver Tail immediately greeted them as friends, after the
manner of his tribe.
Others of the warriors must also have discovered that they had seen two
of the palefaces among the lodges in their home village, for there were
numerous grunts and friendly nods among them.
"How can we let Beaver Tail know what we are here for, and beg him to
help us save Williams from the Frenchmen?" Dick now asked. "The chances
are that not one of the braves or the chief himself can speak a word of
English. Shall we make signs in the snow, and tell him that way?"
"Leave it to me, lad," Mayhew told him. "I have a little smattering of
the Sioux tongue, for once upon a time I was a prisoner among their
wigwams for months. With the aid of signs I shall be able to tell him
the story of how we seek Williams, the man who was in your company at
the time their chief set you free. And they will, I feel sure, help us
carry out our plan."
Both the pioneer boys watched Mayhew with intense eagerness as he faced
Beaver Tail and commenced to speak to him in his own language. The
chief looked astonished and pleased as well, for he had never dreamed
that a paleface could talk in the Dacotah tongue. (Note 10.)
While Mayhew was talking Dick watched the face of Beaver Tail. He could
see that by degrees the chief was catching the drift of what the guide
tried to explain. Of course this consisted in the main of their desire
to overtake Williams, who had set off on a hunting trip, and more to
the effect of how he had been unlucky enough to fall into the hands
of the Blackfeet, who were acting in conjunction with certain French
traders.
It was a clever idea on the part of the guide to bring in the
Blackfeet, because, as he very well knew, there was never-ending war
between that tribe and the Sioux. This would make Beaver Tail all the
more willing, even eager, to lend his aid in effecting the rescue of
Williams.
Step by step Mayhew advanced. When his limited stock of words failed
him, the guide resorted to crude drawings on the snow, at which device
he seemed to be quite adept, if the boys could judge from the chorus
of "how-how" that broke from the crowd of braves after each effort in
this line, and which they judged meant appreciation on the part of the
interested onlookers.
Finally the guide had reached the conclusion. He must have asked Beaver
Tail to help the paleface friends of the great chief, Running Elk, to
rescue their companion from the hated enemy, because the Indian was
nodding his head as though the proposition struck him favorably.
Then he commenced talking in return. When he saw from the puzzled
expression on the face of Mayhew that the frontiersman failed to
catch the idea he was trying to express, the chief turned to the sign
language, upon which his race have always relied when communicating
with each other, or to commemorate great events such as glorious
victories.
"What does he say, Mayhew?" asked Roger.
"He knows where the Frenchmen have their camp, and it is, as we
believed, over on the big water," replied the guide.
"Good! And will he take us there, and help us rescue Jasper?" continued
Roger.
"He says he will," Mayhew announced, with a happy smile on his
weatherbeaten face, for things had taken a decided turn in their
favor, and he began to imagine himself back in the main camp, ready to
make another attempt at taking that message down to the mouth of the
Missouri River.
"When?" continued the impatient Roger.
"We can be heading over that way as soon as we feel like it," the guide
explained. "The lake is about seven miles from here, as near as I can
make him out from his sign drawing. Once we get close by we must wait
for night to come. It is against Injun nature to ever make an attack in
broad daylight, when it can be avoided."
"So long as they do not injure Jasper it will not matter much," Roger
admitted.
"If they have not hurt him up to now I do not think anything is going
to happen before night comes around," Dick told him.
As there was nothing more to be arranged Mayhew managed to tell the
chief that they gladly accepted his offer of assistance, and placed
themselves wholly in his hands. Perhaps the artful frontiersman,
knowing the nature of all Indians, managed to convey more or less
flattery in his speech. At any rate Beaver Tail gave evidences of
being greatly pleased by it, and even went around shaking hands with
the three palefaces, in the same way he had seen the head chief,
Running Elk, do on a former occasion.
It was a fortunate thing for the exploring expedition that members
of their party had been able to make friends with this tribe of the
powerful Sioux nation so early in their invasion of the hunting grounds
of these Western Indians.
Dick and Roger had shot a savage panther that was about to leap from
the limb of a tree upon an old Indian squaw and a little girl. Later
on, when the boys found themselves prisoners of the Sioux, this squaw,
who turned out to be a sister of the great chief, Running Elk, and the
child Dove Eye his own daughter, saved their lives; and from that time
on the Sioux, at least that particular tribe, were on friendly terms
with the explorers.
Accompanied by that host of fighting warriors, Dick and his party
pushed on into the east for several hours, not trying to make any fast
time, however, since they were in no particular hurry to arrive before
evening.
"If you have been taking notice of the fact, Dick," Mayhew remarked,
as he drew alongside the others, "we have our backs full on the
westering sun."
"Yes," Dick returned, "I did take note of that, and it tells us you
were right; the lake, and the camp of the Frenchmen as well, lie
straight to the east."
"Look up, Roger; what do you see?" demanded the guide.
"Our old friends, the crows, flying in flocks, all in a straight line,
and heading into the sun. Listen to them cawing; but somehow or other
the sound doesn't 'rile' me as it did before. In fact, I rather like
to hear it, because I can fancy they are saying: 'You are on the right
track, the camp is only a little way ahead, and good luck to you!'"
Dick laughed softly.
"That is only because you are happy now, while before you had a heavy
load on your mind. As none of us can understand crow talk we must let
it go by. See how they rise in the air when they glimpse us. Wary old
rascals that they are, they scent danger a mile off."
"And, as we must be getting near the big water now," interposed Mayhew,
"it may be just as well that we forego talking except in whispers.
There can be no telling about those crafty Blackfeet; some of them may
be roving around, on the lookout for meat, and spy us. Leave it all to
the chief, and let us copy everything they do, so as to show Beaver
Tail we have handed the whole job over to him."
After that not a word passed between the three comrades above their
breath, as they moved along in company with the dusky crew.
CHAPTER XXXI
THE CAMP ON THE BIG WATER
"THERE is the big water, Dick!" said Roger, in the ear of his cousin,
as he chanced to peer through a narrow opening in the dense woods
beyond.
"And the chief has called a halt, which looks as though we were not to
go any further just now," Dick added.
They could catch a glimpse of what looked like an inland sea. The wind
was raising whitecaps on the tops of the waves, as they rolled past
toward the south. As far as the eye could reach the same broad expanse
of clear crystal water lay. The Indians did well to call it the "big
water," though to-day it is marked on the map as Yellowstone Lake.
A spy was sent out while the remainder of the party remained in hiding.
This was about an hour from sundown. He came back as the last glow was
fading in the western sky, and there was a consultation between the
chief and his leading warriors.
"Try to find out how the land lies, and what the plan of campaign will
be," Dick told Mayhew.
The guide returned presently with all the information they required.
"As near as I can tell," he explained to the boys, "the spy brings in
the news that the Blackfeet have mostly departed, and only the four
Frenchmen are left in the camp."
"But I hope they have left Jasper behind also," exclaimed Roger, taking
fresh alarm. "You remember we were told by Lascelles that he meant to
try to get the Indians to carry him far away to their village, and
either adopt him into the tribe, or else burn him at the stake."
"Make your mind easy on that score," Mayhew assured him.
"Then he is still in the camp?" asked the boy.
"Yes, the spy saw him there, tied to a tree," Mayhew continued. "One of
the Frenchmen gave him a kick in passing, like the coward that he is. I
used to believe the French were gentlemen, but my opinion has changed."
"Oh! you must not judge all Frenchmen by these rascals," said Dick.
"They are of the bad kind. Perhaps Jasper will be glad of a chance to
return that kick with interest before sun-up."
"And if he doesn't, I will!" asserted Roger, impulsively, for he hated
a coward and a bully above all things.
"What does Beaver Tail mean to do?" Dick asked.
"I think his first act will be to send the spy back again, so as to
keep track of what is going on in the French camp," Mayhew told him.
"Then at a later hour all of us will creep over and surround the place.
Any Blackfeet who may be found are apt to be given a short shrift,
because they are the mortal foes of the Sioux; but I do not believe the
traders will be harmed, unless they should be unwise enough to shoot
one of Beaver Tail's warriors."
Shortly afterwards Dick saw the same skillful scout go forth, and he
knew that Mayhew had guessed the truth when he said a close watch was
to be kept over the camp on the lake shore.
In good time the signal would be given for the general advance. Until
then, all of them must possess their souls in patience. As the cold of
the night increased it was likely to prove no laughing matter, since
they were unprovided with blankets, and dared not build a fire. Still,
with success so close to their hands, the pioneer boys felt that they
could put up with almost anything.
How slowly the time passed, in spite of all these brave resolutions!
Roger found it necessary several times to get up and, as noiselessly
as possible, thresh his arms around him, so as to start his stagnant
blood into renewed circulation. Had it not been for this expedient he
believed he would be unable to respond when finally the signal was
given to move on.
When it appeared to Roger that many hours must have passed, he was
elated to discover that the chief, Beaver Tail, had begun to show signs
of life. He had been sitting like a block of stone, simply casting a
look up at the stars occasionally, as though one of the heavenly bodies
must reach a certain altitude before the time could be reckoned as up.
This must have been a signal to the others, for immediately each
warrior was on his moccasined feet, and on every side bows could be
seen being strung in readiness for twanging, while quivers of arrows
were fastened over the left shoulder of each soft-footed brave.
Once the expedition was in motion, the chill soon left Roger's body. In
its place he experienced a gratifying warmth that must have started
through the increased pumping of his youthful heart due to excitement.
The boys found as they advanced that the crafty Sioux chief had made
as complete arrangements as any war captain could have done. He had
divided his force into three sections of about equal numbers. One of
these was sent ahead, and it was easy to surmise that the duty of these
warriors was to proceed to the further extremity of the Frenchmen's
camp, so as to cut off escape from that quarter.
A second lot could come up from the rear, while those with whom the
palefaces and Beaver Tail himself were associated advanced along the
shore of the lake, and expected to reach the vicinity of the camp in
that way.
The boys had never gazed upon a body of water anything like the size of
that lake, though accustomed to the big Missouri River in flood-time,
when it was miles from shore to shore. Once they had cruised down to
the Mississippi in company with Roger's father, Sandy Armstrong, who
had built a big canoe and wanted to revisit the place where, as a lad,
he had had a temporary home.
Seen in the sheen of the starlight, the lake looked as though it might
be an ocean in itself, for no further shore was visible. Roger wondered
if this was what the sea resembled, and if he and Dick would really be
permitted to continue on with the explorers, cross the rocky range of
mountains, and finally bring up on the golden strand of the Pacific
Ocean.
But there was a glimmering light close by, which he surmised was a
smoldering fire in the French traders' camp. Carefully they continued
to creep forward. It gave Roger a thrill to realize that he was in the
company of savages such as his father and grandfather had fought in the
years gone by; but who were now their best of friends. What wonderful
stories he and Dick would have to tell should they live through all
these manifold perils to return safely home, and resume their old
places at the domestic fireside.
Both boys were secretly hoping that Lascelles and his compatriots would
not be so foolhardy as to attempt to resist. Bad as these men were,
the boys did not wish to see them butchered, as they undoubtedly would
be should they fire on the Sioux, or even wound one of Beaver Tail's
warriors.
As for any stray Blackfeet who may have remained in camp while the
main body was off somewhere, if they got in the way of the Sioux arrows
or tomahawks that was their lookout; the boys could not be expected to
include them in the scheme of general amnesty.
The attack was not to be started until certain signals announced that
all the detachments had reached the positions assigned to them by the
chief. When he heard the howl of a wolf given with a certain little
twist at the finish, and then also caught the cry of the screech-owl,
he would feel assured that nothing remained to be done but order a
concerted assault.
Indians have always had a certain set plan for their surprises. No
matter how slyly they crept up on blockhouse or camp or border fort,
when a certain time arrived they felt it was absolutely necessary to
break out in ferocious yells. No doubt this was done partly to give
freedom to their pent-up feelings, and, at the same time, add to the
alarm of those whom they were attacking.
Dick and Roger knew this fact. They had had some little experience
themselves in connection with Indians. Besides this, they had heard
innumerable stories from Grandfather David concerning those days along
the Ohio, when the tribes from the Great Lakes to the southern border
of Kentucky were all on the warpath, and seeking day and night to
destroy the hardy pioneers.
This being the case, neither of the lads felt any surprise when there
arose a series of the most dreadful yells. The warriors whom they
accompanied added to the din with all their might, at the same time
springing forward and running in the direction of the near by camp.
From every quarter arose that deafening clamor. It must have struck
terror to the hearts of the Frenchmen, even though they may have
fancied that they were friendly with all the tribes of the far
Northwest, because of their dealings in the matter of buying the stores
of pelts collected by the red men.
There was nothing for the boys to do but keep company with the braves
as they thus closed in on the surrounded camp. Already they could see
signs of tremendous excitement in that quarter, as the inmates, alarmed
by the clamor of many tongues, turned this way and that, hardly knowing
whether to run, or else raise up their hands in token of submission.
Several dusky figures were discovered by the light of the fire darting
into the thickets close to the camp. These must be the few Blackfoot
braves who, for some reason, had been left behind. They knew there
would be no mercy for them at the hands of their mortal foes, the
Sioux, and on that account they preferred taking their chances in the
brush and half-darkness.
Had it not been for that horrid din, perhaps the boys might have caught
the sharp twang of bowstrings; they might also have heard the death
cries of those who met the flight of those swiftly-driven arrows, with
their tips of jagged flint.
Just then it mattered nothing to Dick and Roger whether any of the
Blackfeet managed to run the gauntlet and escape or not; their thoughts
were all taken up with the hope and expectation of finding that one
for whom they had long sought, Jasper Williams, whose signature at the
bottom of a new document would mean so much to the folks at home.
As they entered the camp they saw a cluster of figures standing with
fear-blanched faces. The flickering firelight showed the boys that
Lascelles was there, and the smooth-faced young man, cowering at his
side, must be his son, Alexis, whom accounts reported as being as
great a rascal as his father. Besides, there were two more of the
traders.
At sight of the boys whom he had so greatly wronged Lascelles cried out
something. Neither of them could exactly understand its nature; but
Dick fancied the cowardly Frenchman must be pleading with them to have
his life spared.
"Hold up your hands, and they may not harm you; but under no conditions
try to run away or you are dead men!" was what he flung out at them as
he ran past.
Roger was at his heels. The guide, with wonderful good sense, gave the
fire a little kick in passing, which had the effect of starting up
quite a bright blaze. By the aid of this light they could see what was
going on.
Already a number of the Sioux had entered the camp. Their appearance,
with flourishing hatchets and knives, doubtless chilled the blood of
the Frenchmen, knowing as they now did that these braves of Running Elk
must be on the most friendly terms with Dick and Roger Armstrong.
Dick looked further. It was, however, the keen-eyed Roger who chanced
to be the first to discover what they were searching for.
"This way, Dick; here he is, tied to this tree!" he cried.
As Dick leaped after him he saw that there was indeed some one bound
fast to a tree, a white man at that; and the firelight disclosed the
fact that it was Jasper Williams.
CHAPTER XXXII
A WELL WON VICTORY--CONCLUSION
THE astonishment of Jasper Williams was apparent as he saw Dick and
Roger Armstrong before him. Up to that time he had supposed the attack
to be simply one of those ordinary Indian surprises to be expected
when white men are hunting on ground that the tribes of the Northwest
claimed as their own territory.
"Saving me seems to be getting quite a habit with you lads," he told
them, as his bonds were hurriedly severed, and he could grasp a hand of
each. "How did the news reach camp; and what made the captain allow you
to start out almost alone into this heathen land in order to rescue me?"
Dick quickly informed him concerning the reason for their presence.
"We did not dream that you were in trouble," he said. "Mayhew, who was
taking the document to our people down on the Missouri, was robbed of
the paper. He came back to the camp to let us know; and we could see
the fine hand of that French trader over there back of it."
"François Lascelles!" cried the hunter, as a look of understanding
crossed his rugged features. "Now I begin to see what it all means. He
was afraid you would get another signature from me, and to block the
game he had me taken prisoner by the Blackfeet. Why," he added, in a
burst of anger, "they even threatened to carry me off to their village
and make me teach their squaws how white women sew and bake bread, and
all such civilized ways!"
"We immediately started out to overtake you," continued Dick, "and
Mayhew insisted on being one of our party. What strange adventures we
have met with you shall hear about another time; for I take it that
you do not mean after this to head any further into such a terrible
country?"
Williams shrugged his broad shoulders, and made a wry face.
"I suppose, lads, I would be a fool to try it, since my comrades
deserted me," he told them.
"Yes," replied Roger, "we met them on the way, and both Hardy and
Mordaunt vowed nothing could tempt them to go a step further. What with
the working of the Evil Spirit, and the danger from hostile reds, they
had had enough."
"We are glad to hear you say such a sensible thing," Dick added,
"because this does not seem like a white man's country. Only for our
good luck in meeting these friendly Sioux, who come from the village of
Running Elk, we might have had a much harder time in getting you free.
But it is all right now!"
"The sooner we start back to the camp the better I will be pleased,"
Williams admitted. "Then there's that document we ought to have on its
way. What will you do with the Frenchmen?"
"If we let them go free now," affirmed Roger, "no matter how they
give us their solemn word of honor, I believe Lascelles would try to
intercept our messenger again."
"You are right about that, son," said Williams, warmly. "Better let
the Indians knock them on the head, and have done with it. They surely
deserve little mercy at your hands."
Dick, however, could not agree to such a thing.
"No," he said, firmly, "if Beaver Tail will agree to take them to camp
with us, I believe Captain Lewis will hold them as hostages until
Mayhew has had time to get so far along on his journey east that he
can not be headed again. After that the Frenchmen might be turned
loose."
Between Williams and Mayhew this was explained to Beaver Tail, who
agreed. Nothing was said about a reward, but Dick had already made up
his mind that he would endeavor to induce the two captains in charge of
the exploring party to deal generously with the Sioux in this respect.
"It will not be thrown away, either," he told Williams, "because to
have Running Elk and his tribe friendly with us might mean much for the
success of our trip when spring comes."
Naturally Lascelles and his comrades were very much concerned as to
what their fate was going to be. When they heard what Dick had to say
they seemed rather pleased, though the old trader frowned, and muttered
to himself from time to time, as though he did not like the idea of
being frustrated in his cherished scheme.
There was apparently no help for it, unless he wished to try to escape,
when the chances were he would be quickly hunted down and lose his
scalp to the Sioux.
Accordingly a start was made for the camp, the entire band of Indians
accompanying the boys and the Frenchmen. During that weary march the
old trader was given an opportunity of learning about the character
of the two lads whom he had been pursuing so heartlessly, with the
intention of robbing their parents of the property that he claimed
through a flaw in the title.
Whether this knowledge did him any good or not it would be impossible
to say. He was too old to change his ways of life, and, while openly
protesting to have seen a light, so that he would no longer try
to injure the Armstrongs, Dick and Roger put little faith in his
repentance.
When finally the camp was reached the prisoners were handed over to
the care of some of the soldiers accompanying the expedition, who were
charged with the task of seeing that none of them escaped.
Jasper Williams readily signed another document which Captain Lewis
himself arranged, and both the leaders of the expedition put their
names down as witnesses. Then Mayhew started once more for the lower
Missouri. The other two messengers had agreed to wait at a certain
place for him to join them; and he believed he still had ample time to
arrive before the specified time would be up.
When the two boys waved him farewell they felt that a great load had
been taken from their shoulders.
"This time there should be nothing to prevent him from reaching our
homes and delivering the precious paper, besides our letters," said
Dick.
"Something seems to tell me he will do it," added Roger, "and so I have
decided not to let it worry me any longer. We will keep Lascelles and
his son here for some weeks, so that they will be powerless to catch
up with Mayhew, even if they wished to try it. And Beaver Tail seemed
greatly pleased with the generous way Captain Lewis treated him, too,
so we have made good friends of the Sioux."
"He gave the chief a gun and some ammunition," remarked Dick. "He was
as pleased with it as a child would be with a new toy. And every brave
also received something to show that we wanted them to be our friends.
But the dinner we gave them did not seem to reach the right spot. I saw
more than one slyly throw the tea away when they thought no one was
looking."
"They will stick to roast dog as a feast dish," laughed Roger. "I was
afraid at one time there might be trouble between the Mandans and
the Sioux, for they are old rivals of the chase and the warpath. But
Captain Lewis managed to patch up a truce that may last while we are
here, at any rate, even if the old warfare breaks out again afterwards."
"It took a good deal of talk, though," suggested Roger, "to induce the
Mandans to hide those old Sioux scalps they had swinging about their
teepees. If the braves of Running Elk had glimpsed those nothing could
have kept them from making trouble. But it is simply wonderful what
power Captain Lewis has over men."
"If we ever do set eyes on the great ocean that lies far beyond the
range of rocky mountains," Dick affirmed, "it will be owing mostly to
the cleverness of the President's private secretary."
History has recorded the facts, and the young pioneer in stating his
opinion was only saying what other men have conceded.
A few days after Mayhew left the camp, well provisioned and armed for
his dangerous trip over the back trail, winter set in in earnest. The
boys were well satisfied to be so comfortably housed and among friends,
instead of wandering amidst those strange scenes of which they never
seemed to tire of talking, where the earth appeared to be on fire deep
down under the outer crust, and continually spouted those colossal
streams of steaming water.
The four Frenchmen were kept prisoners until several weeks had elapsed,
and then allowed to go. They had a _cache_ somewhere, they admitted,
with an abundance of ammunition as well as other supplies, so there was
little fear of their perishing in the severity of the winter weather.
As the days and weeks drifted along Dick and Roger carried out many
of their little plans. They hunted when the weather admitted, and
accompanied Jasper Williams on trapping jaunts that covered several
days. They also had intercourse with the peculiar Mandan Indians, and
learned a multitude of interesting things connected with the tribe
called the "White Indians," a race which has always been a mystery to
historians.
As the long winter drew near a close the boys began to feel their
pulses thrill in anticipation of being once more on the move with their
faces turned toward the magical setting sun.
The talk around the fires was all of the wonders that still awaited
them beyond the chain of mountains of which they heard so much. Every
scrap of information was garnered and repeated. Captain Lewis lost no
opportunity to learn new facts, or rumors concerning what they might
expect to meet in their further advance into the country which up to
then had never known the impression of a white man's foot.
It can be easily understood, then, that as the snows began to melt
with the gradual increase of the sun's warmth in the early spring,
preparations were feverishly undertaken for a start. And in that camp
there was none more deeply interested in the final outcome than were
our two pioneer boys.
"I think we'll see some wonderful sights," said Roger.
"Perhaps," was the answer Dick made.
How the forward march into the Great Unknown was resumed, and what
adventures fell to the lot of our young heroes, will be related in
the next volume of this series, to be called "The Pioneer Boys of the
Columbia"; but, come what may, it is not likely that they will witness
anything more wonderful than the marvels they encountered in the
territory of the Yellowstone.
THE END
NOTES
NOTE 1 (PAGE 7)
When, in 1803, the new Republic purchased from France for fifteen
million dollars what was then known as the territory of Louisiana, the
United States extended its boundaries toward the unknown West where it
was believed a mighty range of mountains divided the continent, while
far beyond lay the Pacific Ocean. The territory included practically
what is now covered by the States of Montana, North and South Dakota,
Nebraska, Minnesota, Iowa, Kansas, Arkansas, Louisiana, Indian
Territory, and part of Colorado.
President Jefferson wished to aid the settlers along the Mississippi,
who wanted more room for expansion toward the setting sun, and
accordingly, on his recommendation, Congress authorized the sending of
an exploring expedition to ascertain what lay beyond the limits of the
new land, and, if possible, to go all the way to the ocean.
Captain Meriwether Lewis, the President's private secretary, together
with Captain William Clark, was placed in charge of the expedition,
which started from St. Louis early in 1804. It consisted of nine young
Kentuckians, fourteen United States soldiers, two French voyageurs
to serve as interpreters among the Indians whom they expected to
encounter, and a black servant for Captain Clark. Some frontiersmen
also joined them before they left the last trading post. On May 24th
this little expedition left the mouth of the Missouri, and plunged into
the then unknown wilderness, not knowing whether a single soul of the
party would ever live to come back again with a record of the wonders
they had seen, and the perils they had encountered.
History tells us that they wintered at the Mandan village near the
headwaters of the Missouri and that strange river which the Indians
called Yellowstone, on account of the predominating color along its
banks. The following spring the Lewis and Clark expedition continued on
its way, reaching the Columbia River, and following it down until, at
its mouth, they beheld the goal of all their hopes, the glorious ocean
that lay bathed in the glow of the setting sun.
NOTE 2 (PAGE 26)
In those days, when the Indians of the Northwest did not have the Great
White Father at Washington to supply them with rations and fresh beef,
it was customary for the various tribes to participate in annual fall
hunts, so that sufficient meat might be procured to last them through
the long, cold winters.
Sometimes they went after buffalo, which at that day were to be found
in immense herds, and often the most wanton destruction was indulged
in, traps being laid whereby the great animals were driven by hundreds
over some precipice, so that the Indians hardly bothered taking
anything but the tongues of their victims, which they cured by drying
in the smoke of their fires. In spite of this slaughter the herds
continued to increase until modern man, with his repeating rifle,
made his appearance, at the time the first railroad was being built
across the continent, when they quickly reached the point of practical
extermination.
More often the meat obtained in these fall hunts was venison. This the
Indians cured by drying in the sun. Thus prepared, it would keep for
any length of time, if not allowed to get wet. It is not the nicest
food an epicure might select, being dark-looking, and often as hard as
flint; but pemmican, as this dried venison is called, can be made into
a palatable dish when properly cooked.
When an Indian was sent on a trip of perhaps two hundred miles, to take
a message to another tribe, he would simply carry along with him in his
pouch a handful of this pemmican, which would serve him as a means of
sustenance throughout his long journey, washed down with an occasional
drink from some spring that he would discover on the trail.
NOTE 3 (PAGE 128)
Probably the giant geyser which performed such a splendid service for
our two young heroes was the one known for many years as Old Faithful,
from the fact that, while other geysers in Yellowstone Park may seem
grander on occasion, they are often erratic in their flow, and not to
be depended on. Old Faithful has often been described, and is an object
of such general interest among the visitors to the National Park that a
large hotel has been built so close that one can sit in an easy-chair
within a few hundred yards, and view its spectacular upheaval.
It seems to come every sixty-five minutes, to a dot, and the great
white column rises with a roar from one to two hundred feet into the
air, continuing for possibly the space of five minutes. New beauties
are to be discovered with almost every eruption, according to the
weather, and the hour of the day or night. Sunrise, sunset, moonlight
sway the great steaming column into a thousand fantastic forms. When
the geyser is quiet one may approach the crater, an oblong opening
about two by six feet, with a quiet pool of crystal water.
Some say the deposits around the crater indicate an age of tens, if
not hundreds of thousands of years. When Columbus discovered America
this great column played at regular intervals in the primal solitude;
when Lief Erickson landed it was unspeakably old, but glorious as ever;
when Christ was on earth its strange beauty fell on the eye of the
infrequent savage who gazed on it with superstitious awe; long before
the reputed date of creation it played and coruscated in the sunlight.
No wonder, then, that those, who stop to think, gaze with wonder on
Old Faithful and that the Indians, at the time the Lewis and Clark
expedition crossed the continent, held it in awe and reverence.
NOTE 4 (PAGE 162)
The grizzly bear has never been found east of a certain line marked by
spurs of the mighty Rocky Mountains. At the time the Lewis and Clark
expedition penetrated the wilderness lying between the settlements
along the lower Missouri and the far distant Coast Range of mountains,
in what is now known as California, very little was known of this most
terrible of all the wild animals native to North America; indeed, some
big game hunters put the grizzly ahead of the African lion or the tiger
of the Indian jungle so far as ferocity and toughness goes.
Vague stories drifted to the ears of white hunters about a monster bear
which terrified the red men of the West. They had even seen the claws
strung around the neck of some chief who had won his high position
after having killed one of these fearful creatures in a hand-to-hand
fight.
When the explorers finally returned to civilization they brought with
them the most amazing stories of things they had seen; but undoubtedly
nothing surpassed their descriptions of the grizzly bear's ten lives,
and the fearful strength which the animal possessed.
In these modern days of soft-nosed bullets, and the exploding kind that
do such fearful execution upon striking the game, it may not be so
difficult to bring down old "Eph," as Western men call the grizzly; but
a score or more of years ago men declared that they had known such an
animal to be hit with twenty shots, and yet seem to mind his wounds no
more than if they were flea-bites.
It can be seen, then, that, in slaying a grizzly, Dick and his cousin
Roger were really accomplishing what in those days was a stupendous
feat. Their success must be laid partly to good luck, and the fact that
they were able to send their lead to a vital spot. Ordinary wounds will
have little or no effect upon a tough grizzly, save to further enrage
the beast, and make him more fierce than ever.
Unless they are heavily armed, or can gain the shelter of a convenient
tree, wise hunters usually let such a dangerous animal severely alone
when coming unexpectedly upon him in the rocky canyons where he loves
to prowl.
NOTE 5 (PAGE 181)
The first real intimation the world received concerning the wonders
of what is now Yellowstone Park can be said to have come through the
experiences of a trapper by the name of Colter. He was made prisoner by
the hostile Blackfeet in the early part of the nineteenth century, and,
after being tortured by them, managed to escape. When he afterwards
reached civilization he had some marvelous tales to tell about a land
of steaming pools; of springs of boiling water, that at intervals shot
hundreds of feet into the air; of seething cauldrons of pitch; of
strange lakes and rivers; as well as of rocks and clay that bore the
diversified colors of the rainbow. Of course, his rough friends laughed
at his stories, and gave them little credence. Indeed, it was believed
that the sufferings of the trapper had made him somewhat light in the
head. They treated his accounts with derision, and classed the tales
with those of Gulliver and Munchausen. But, in later years, everything
Colter had told was amply verified, showing that he had actually been
in the region now known as Yellowstone Park.
It was not until 1869 that a well-equipped prospecting party was sent
out by private enterprise to ascertain the truth about this supposedly
mythical region of awe-inspiring wonders. Thirty-six days were spent on
the trip, and the party saw such amazing things that, as the account
tells us, some of them "were unwilling on their return to risk their
reputation for veracity by relating the wonders of that unequaled
country."
To-day, the tourist is taken into the Park and shown everything that is
worth seeing with the least degree of discomfort. And there is nothing
in the Old World that can at all compare with the natural wonders to be
found on the great Government Reservation, the lake itself being the
gem of them all, for it covers something like one hundred and fifty
square miles, and is as clear as crystal.
NOTE 6 (PAGE 191)
As a rule the Indians of the Great Northwest seemed to avoid the region
now known as Yellowstone Park, even though it abounded in game, because
of superstitious fears connected with the mysterious working of the
spouting geysers, which they believed to be the evidence of the Evil
One opposed to the Good Manitou. Occasionally the Blackfeet or the
Crows invaded the borders when in need of fresh meat. Some lodges of
a fragment of the Snake Indians have been found, a miserable tribe
known as Sheep-eaters; but the powerful Sioux, the Mandans, and the Nez
Perces tribes avoided the district as though it were truly accursed.
The most important Indian trail in the Park was that known as the
Great Bannock Trail. It extended from Henry Lake across the Gallatin
Range to Mammoth Hot Springs, where it was joined by another coming up
the valley of the Gardiner. Thence it led across the Black-tail Deer
plateau to the ford above Tower Falls; thence up the Lamor Valley,
forking at Soda Butte, and reaching the Bighorn Valley by way of
Clark's Falls and the Stinking-water River. The trail was certainly
a very ancient and much traveled one. It had become a deep furrow in
the grassy slopes, and is still distinctly visible in places, though
unused for a quarter of a century.
Arrows and spear heads have been discovered in considerable numbers.
Some of the early explorers also found more recent and perishable
evidence of the presence of Indians in the Park in the shape of
rude wick-e-ups, brush enclosures, and similar contrivances of the
Sheep-killers.
NOTE 7 (PAGE 196)
Of all the tribes west of the Mississippi, even including the warlike
Sioux, none gave the venturesome paleface adventurers who wandered
into that country more trouble than the Blackfoot Indians. Like the
Flatheads, and some other tribes, they had their main villages far
up amidst the pine-clad mountains where enemies could hardly reach
them without long and dangerous journeys. From these eyries they were
accustomed to sally forth, either on some grand hunt for a winter's
supply of meat, or else to strike a sudden blow at some tribe with
which they were at war.
When game grew scarce in their customary hunting grounds, some of
these bold braves were in the habit of taking longer hunts, and had
frequently approached the border of the Land of Wonders. As a rule they
avoided the country of the spouting geysers, because they believed an
Evil Spirit dwelt there.
The habits of these Indians differed from those of the Mandans, because
they were by nature of a much wilder disposition, utterly untamable. To
this day the remnants of the old Blackfoot tribe are not to be compared
with other civilized aborigines who have taken to the plow and the
cottage. The Mandans themselves suffered so severely from smallpox,
introduced into the tribe through connection with the whites, that long
years ago they became extinct.
NOTE 8 (PAGE 221)
The usual medicine man of all the Indian tribes of North America in
the days of the pioneers was as big a humbug as could be imagined. He
usually held his position through craftiness, and the ability to make
the tribe believe that he was in direct communication with the Great
Spirit or Manitou. It was therefore a matter of some moment for the
native doctor to "make good" when he had promised that victory would
crown the efforts of the warriors going forth to battle, or otherwise
his life might pay the penalty.
When it came to treating disease he seldom gave even the commonest
herbs, rather trusting to incantations in order to frighten off the
evil thing that had fastened on the sick person. Thus tomtoms were
beaten, chants given, and the medicine man himself would perform
a weird dance around the sick one, making music to accompany his
gesticulations by rattling gourds in which stones had been slipped,
jingling the metal ornaments on his apparel, and in every imaginable
way trying to "conjure" the maker of the spell that had been laid upon
the afflicted one.
Sometimes the invalid got well in spite of everything, and great was
the jubilation of the tribe; on the other hand if death came and took a
victim it was easy for the medicine man to find some excuse.
Perhaps the Blackfoot chief, Black Otter, may have seen white doctors
cure their patients by giving them medicine; or else learned of it
through intercourse with French traders, such as Lascelles. However
that might be, it was not so very singular for some of his braves to
have become afflicted with the same desire to be treated by a paleface
medicine man. This, then, would account for the eagerness with which
those who had received wounds in the affray between the Blackfeet and
the invaders of the Enchanted Land agreed to let young Dick Armstrong
attend to their hurts. Deep down in their hearts they must have
realized that the way of the palefaces was much superior to the crude
methods in vogue with their native medicine man.
NOTE 9 (PAGE 246)
This incident of an Indian's gratitude is not of an unusual character.
The history of early pioneer days shows many such. The red men were
savage and cruel fighters, crafty, and not to be trusted in many ways;
but they possessed several noble characteristics that will always stand
out boldly when the good and bad are contrasted.
Many instances are on record which prove that the Indian could be
grateful for benefits bestowed, though he might sooner choose to die
than ask a favor.
The brave whose wounded shoulder Dick had so skillfully treated
evidently saw no reason why he should call out and alarm the camp when
he discovered the paleface boys escaping. He probably had no special
liking for the French trader, and it was Lascelles who seemed to be
most concerned in the keeping of the two white lads. Perhaps, even, he
had some reason to dislike the trader; or he may have felt, deep down
in his heart, a secret admiration for the boys who could thus hoodwink
a dozen Blackfoot braves.
NOTE 10 (PAGE 308)
The Sioux proper, known among themselves and by other Indian tribes as
Dacotahs, were originally one of the most extensively diffused nations
of the Great West. From the Upper Mississippi, where they mingled
with the northern race of Chippewas, to the Missouri, and far in the
Northwest toward the country of the Blackfeet, the tribes of this
family occupied the boundless prairie.
It was in the country of the Sioux, on a high ridge separating the
head-waters of the St. Peter's from the Missouri, that the far-famed
quarry of red pipestone lay. It was originally deemed a neutral ground
where hostile tribes from far and near might resort to secure a supply
of this all-essential want of the Indian, for all their pipes were made
of this peculiar hard clay.
To use the stone for any other purposes was to the Indians an act of
sacrilege. They looked upon it as priceless _medicine_. At a meeting
of chiefs which Mr. Catlin, the historical writer, attended near this
quarry many years ago he heard some remarkable expressions used. "You
see," said one chief, holding a pipe close to his arm, "this pipe is
part of our own flesh." Another said: "If the white man takes away a
piece of the red pipestone, it is a hole in our flesh, and the blood
will always run." A third expressed his feelings in a still more
remarkable way: "We love to go to the Pipe-Stone, and get a piece for
our pipes; but we ask the Great Spirit first. If the white men go to it
they will take it out, and not fill up the holes again and the Great
Spirit will be offended."
Besides the Sioux there were to be found at times in this region the
Flatheads, the Ojibbeways, the Assinaboias, the Crows, the Blackfeet,
and several lesser tribes. Among them there was almost constant
warfare. While the Blackfeet and others had plenty of game in their own
lands, they were now and then seized with a desire to dare the anger
of the Sioux and hunt the buffalo over the territory claimed as their
preserves by the latter. And many fierce battles took place because of
this belligerency.
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Uniform in size with the Little Colonel Series $1.50
Bound in white kid (morocco) and gold 3.00
Cover design and decorations by Amy Carol Rand.
The publishers have had many inquiries from readers of the Little
Colonel books as to where they could obtain a "Good Times Book" such as
Betty kept. Mrs. Johnston, who has for years kept such a book herself,
has gone enthusiastically into the matter of the material and format
for a similar book for her young readers. Every girl will want to
possess a "Good Times Book."
=ASA HOLMES:= OR, AT THE CROSS-ROADS. A sketch of Country Life and
Country Humor. By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON.
With a frontispiece by Ernest Fosbery.
Large 16mo, cloth, gilt top $1.00
"'Asa Holmes; or, At the Cross-Roads' is the most delightful, most
sympathetic and wholesome book that has been published in a long
while."--_Boston Times._
=THE RIVAL CAMPERS:= OR, THE ADVENTURES OF HENRY BURNS. By RUEL PERLEY
SMITH.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
A story of a party of typical American lads, courageous, alert, and
athletic, who spend a summer camping on an island off the Maine coast.
=THE RIVAL CAMPERS AFLOAT:= OR, THE PRIZE YACHT VIKING. By RUEL PERLEY
SMITH.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
This book is a continuation of the adventures of "The Rival Campers" on
their prize yacht _Viking_.
=THE RIVAL CAMPERS ASHORE=
By RUEL PERLEY SMITH.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
"As interesting ashore as when afloat."--_The Interior._
=JACK HARVEY'S ADVENTURES:= OR, THE RIVAL CAMPERS AMONG THE OYSTER
PIRATES. By RUEL PERLEY SMITH.
Illustrated $1.50
"Just the type of book which is most popular with lads who are in their
early teens."--_The Philadelphia Item._
=PRISONERS OF FORTUNE:= A TALE OF THE MASSACHUSETTS BAY COLONY. By RUEL
PERLEY SMITH.
Cloth decorative, with a colored frontispiece $1.50
"There is an atmosphere of old New England in the book, the
humor of the born raconteur about the hero, who tells his story
with the gravity of a preacher, but with a solemn humor that is
irresistible."--_Courier-Journal._
=FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS.= By CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON.
Large 12mo. With 24 illustrations $1.50
Biographical sketches, with interesting anecdotes and reminiscences of
the heroes of history who were leaders of cavalry.
"More of such books should be written, books that acquaint young
readers with historical personages in a pleasant informal way."--_N. Y.
Sun._
=FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS.= By CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON.
Large 12mo, illustrated $1.50
In this book Mr. Johnston gives interesting sketches of the Indian
braves who have figured with prominence in the history of our own land,
including Powhatan, the Indian Cæsar; Massasoit, the friend of the
Puritans; Pontiac, the red Napoleon; Tecumseh, the famous war chief
of the Shawnees; Sitting Bull, the famous war chief of the Sioux;
Geronimo, the renowned Apache Chief, etc., etc.
=BILLY'S PRINCESS.= By HELEN EGGLESTON HASKELL.
Cloth decorative, illustrated by Helen McCormick Kennedy $1.25
Billy Lewis was a small boy of energy and ambition, so when he was left
alone and unprotected, he simply started out to take care of himself.
=TENANTS OF THE TREES.= By CLARENCE HAWKES.
Cloth decorative, illustrated in colors $1.50
"A book which will appeal to all who care for the hearty, healthy,
outdoor life of the country. The illustrations are particularly
attractive."--_Boston Herald._
=BEAUTIFUL JOE'S PARADISE:= OR, THE ISLAND OF BROTHERLY LOVE. A sequel
to "Beautiful Joe." By MARSHALL SAUNDERS, author of "Beautiful Joe."
One vol., library 12mo, cloth, illustrated $1.50
"This book revives the spirit of 'Beautiful Joe' capitally. It is
fairly riotous with fun, and is about as unusual as anything in the
animal book line that has seen the light."--_Philadelphia Item._
='TILDA JANE.= By MARSHALL SAUNDERS.
One vol., 12mo, fully illustrated, cloth decorative, $1.50
"I cannot think of any better book for children than this. I commend it
unreservedly."--_Cyrus Townsend Brady._
='TILDA JANE'S ORPHANS.= A sequel to 'Tilda Jane. By MARSHALL SAUNDERS.
One vol., 12mo, fully illustrated, cloth decorative, $1.50
'Tilda Jane is the same original, delightful girl, and as fond of her
animal pets as ever.
=THE STORY OF THE GRAVELEYS.= By MARSHALL SAUNDERS, author of
"Beautiful Joe's Paradise," "'Tilda Jane," etc.
Library 12mo, cloth decorative. Illustrated by E. B. Barry $1.50
Here we have the haps and mishaps, the trials and triumphs, of a
delightful New England family, of whose devotion and sturdiness it will
do the reader good to hear.
=BORN TO THE BLUE.= By FLORENCE KIMBALL RUSSEL.
12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.25
The atmosphere of army life on the plains breathes on every page of
this delightful tale. The boy is the son of a captain of U. S. cavalry
stationed at a frontier post in the days when our regulars earned the
gratitude of a nation.
=IN WEST POINT GRAY=
By FLORENCE KIMBALL RUSSEL.
12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
"Singularly enough one of the best books of the year for boys is
written by a woman and deals with life at West Point. The presentment
of life in the famous military academy whence so many heroes have
graduated is realistic and enjoyable."--_New York Sun._
=FROM CHEVRONS TO SHOULDER STRAPS=
By FLORENCE KIMBALL RUSSEL.
12mo, cloth, illustrated, decorative $1.50
West Point again forms the background of a new volume in this popular
series, and relates the experience of Jack Stirling during his junior
and senior years.
=THE SANDMAN: HIS FARM STORIES=
By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS. With fifty illustrations by Ada Clendenin
Williamson.
Large 12mo, decorative cover $1.50
"An amusing, original book, written for the benefit of very small
children. It should be one of the most popular of the year's books for
reading to small children."--_Buffalo Express._
=THE SANDMAN: MORE FARM STORIES=
By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS.
Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated $1.50
Mr. Hopkins's first essay at bedtime stories met with such approval
that this second book of "Sandman" tales was issued for scores of eager
children. Life on the farm, and out-of-doors, is portrayed in his
inimitable manner.
=THE SANDMAN: HIS SHIP STORIES=
By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS, author of "The Sandman: His Farm Stories," etc.
Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated $1.50
"Children call for these stories over and over again."--_Chicago
Evening Post._
=THE SANDMAN, HIS SEA STORIES=
By WILLIAM J. HOPKINS.
Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated $1.50
Each year adds to the popularity of this unique series of stories to be
read to the little ones at bed time and at other times.
=THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL=
By MARION AMES TAGGART, author of "Pussy-Cat Town," etc.
One vol., library 12mo, illustrated $1.50
A thoroughly enjoyable tale of a little girl and her comrade father,
written in a delightful vein of sympathetic comprehension of the
child's point of view.
=SWEET NANCY=
THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL. By MARION AMES
TAGGART.
One vol., library, 12mo, illustrated $1.50
In the new book, the author tells how Nancy becomes in fact "the
doctor's assistant," and continues to shed happiness around her.
=THE CHRISTMAS-MAKERS' CLUB=
By EDITH A. SAWYER.
12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
A delightful story for girls, full of the real spirit of Christmas. It
abounds in merrymaking and the right kind of fun.
=CARLOTA=
A STORY OF THE SAN GABRIEL MISSION. By FRANCES MARGARET FOX.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated
in colors by Ethelind Ridgway $1.00
"It is a pleasure to recommend this little story as an entertaining
contribution to juvenile literature."--_The New York Sun._
=THE SEVEN CHRISTMAS CANDLES=
By FRANCES MARGARET FOX.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated
in colors by Ethelind Ridgway $1.00
Miss Fox's new book deals with the fortunes of the delightful Mulvaney
children.
=PUSSY-CAT TOWN=
By MARION AMES TAGGART.
Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and
decorated in colors $1.00
"Anything more interesting than the doings of the cats in this
story, their humor, their wisdom, their patriotism, would be hard to
imagine."--_Chicago Post._
=THE ROSES OF SAINT ELIZABETH=
By JANE SCOTT WOODRUFF.
Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated
in colors by Adelaide Everhart $1.00
This is a charming little story of a child whose father was caretaker
of the great castle of the Wartburg, where Saint Elizabeth once had her
home.
=GABRIEL AND THE HOUR BOOK=
By EVALEEN STEIN.
Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated
in colors by Adelaide Everhart $1.00
Gabriel was a loving, patient, little French lad, who assisted the
monks in the long ago days, when all the books were written and
illuminated by hand, in the monasteries.
=THE ENCHANTED AUTOMOBILE=
Translated from the French by MARY J. SAFFORD.
Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated
in colors by Edna M. Sawyer $1.00
"An up-to-date French fairy-tale which fairly radiates the spirit of
the hour,--unceasing diligence."--_Chicago Record-Herald._
=O-HEART-SAN=
THE STORY OF A JAPANESE GIRL. By HELEN EGGLESTON HASKELL.
Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated
in colors by Frank P. Fairbanks $1.00
"The story comes straight from the heart of Japan. The shadow of
Fujiyama lies across it and from every page breathes the fragrance
of tea leaves, cherry blossoms and chrysanthemums."--_The Chicago
Inter-Ocean._
=THE YOUNG SECTION-HAND:= OR, THE ADVENTURES OF ALLAN WEST. By BURTON
E. STEVENSON.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
Mr. Stevenson's hero is a manly lad of sixteen, who is given a chance
as a section-hand on a big Western railroad, and whose experiences are
as real as they are thrilling.
=THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER.= By BURTON E. STEVENSON.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
"A better book for boys has never left an American
press."--_Springfield Union._
=THE YOUNG TRAIN MASTER.= By BURTON E. STEVENSON.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
"Nothing better in the way of a book of adventure for boys in which the
actualities of life are set forth in a practical way could be devised
or written."--_Boston Herald_.
=CAPTAIN JACK LORIMER.= By WINN STANDISH.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
Jack is a fine example of the all-around American high-school boy.
=JACK LORIMER'S CHAMPIONS:= OR, SPORTS ON LAND AND LAKE. By WINN
STANDISH.
Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
"It is exactly the sort of book to give a boy interested in athletics,
for it shows him what it means to always 'play fair.'"--_Chicago
Tribune._
=JACK LORIMER'S HOLIDAYS:= OR, MILLVALE HIGH IN CAMP. By WINN STANDISH.
Illustrated $1.50
Full of just the kind of fun, sports and adventure to excite the
healthy minded youngster to emulation.
=JACK LORIMER'S SUBSTITUTE:= OR, THE ACTING CAPTAIN OF THE TEAM. By
WINN STANDISH.
Illustrated $1.50
On the sporting side, this book takes up football, wrestling,
tobogganing, but it is more of a _school_ story perhaps than any of its
predecessors.
=CAPTAIN JINKS:= THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A SHETLAND PONY. By FRANCES
HODGES WHITE.
Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
The story of Captain Jinks and his faithful dog friend Billy, their
quaint conversations and their exciting adventures, will be eagerly
read by thousands of boys and girls. The story is beautifully written
and will take its place alongside of "Black Beauty" and "Beautiful Joe."
=THE RED FEATHERS.= By THEODORE ROBERTS.
Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
"The Red Feathers" tells of the remarkable adventures of an Indian boy
who lived in the Stone Age, many years ago, when the world was young.
=FLYING PLOVER.= By THEODORE ROBERTS.
Cloth decorative. Illustrated by Charles Livingston Bull $1.00
Squat-By-The-Fire is a very old and wise Indian who lives alone with
her grandson, "Flying Plover," to whom she tells the stories each
evening.
=THE WRECK OF THE OCEAN QUEEN.= By JAMES OTIS, author of "Larry
Hudson's Ambition," etc.
Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
"A stirring story of wreck and mutiny, which boys will find especially
absorbing. The many young admirers of James Otis will not let this book
escape them, for it fully equals its many predecessors in excitement
and sustained interest."--_Chicago Evening Post._
=LITTLE WHITE INDIANS.= By FANNIE E. OSTRANDER.
Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.25
"A bright, interesting story which will appeal strongly to the
'make-believe' instinct in children, and will give them a healthy,
active interest in 'the simple life.'"
=MARCHING WITH MORGAN.= HOW DONALD LOVELL BECAME A SOLDIER OF THE
REVOLUTION.
By JOHN L. VEASY.
Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50
This is a splendid boy's story of the expedition of Montgomery and
Arnold against Quebec.
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes:
Punctuation errors repaired. Varied hyphenation retained as in
hap-hazard and haphazard, fire-arms and firearms.
Page 76, "whisped" changed to "whispered" ("Dick!" he whispered.)
Page 118, "Mayhewy" changed to "Mayhew" (well as to allow Mayhew)
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