CHAPTER IX
Lost in the Forest
"Them 'ere Injuns has stopped, and the hull crowd of us is collecting together," suddenly exclaimed Hank Mitchell, when the party of pursuers had marched steadily throughout the day till evening was approaching, and were in the depths of a forest which, for three hours past, had been getting denser and denser. "I've seed myself signs that told as Hurley wasn't so far ahead, and I'd reckon that Fox and his friend have seen something more than warns 'em that things may be warmin' up in a little. There's Mike beckoning."
It was not an easy matter to see far in this thick forest, even when the light was at its best, which was not the case now that evening was approaching. But it happened that Mike and the Indian trackers had come to rest at a spot which gave the others a clear view of them, so that as those marching in the rear came up, they were able to see the comrades who preceded them gathering into a circle. Mike addressed Peter and Hank immediately on their arrival, speaking in subdued tones.
"He ain't got much go left in him," he said excitedly. "Fox reckons as he went right off to sleep in his saddle hereabouts, and happenin' to ride under a low branch, got swept off his horse. See here."
He had halted his friends a little to one side of the track followed by Hurley, a track easily to be distinguished; for the two horses the murderer had stolen trod down undergrowth at every step, leaving a trail which even Joe, with all his inexperience, could have followed. Some yards ahead it was evident that something unusual had happened, for the undergrowth was trodden down in a wide circle. Hank, his head down, his eyes glued to the trace, sniffing as if he were a dog, at once shot from the circle and, taking pains to tread outside the trail, inspected every part of it.
"Huh!" he grunted, with satisfaction which was evident. "Hurley ain't the man that can put up with much loss of sleep. Besides, he's been bustling these many hours, and that makes a man tired. You kin see what happened. Of course, Fox and Bill were bound to notice it. Reckon he carries a gun slung over his shoulder, and that was the cause of his tumble."
Joe looked the question he would have dearly loved to ask, and Hank, happening to catch his eye at that moment, beckoned to the lad.
"You come along over here and keep right clear of the trace," he said. "Now, I know what you were about to ask. How'd I know as he had a gun slung over his shoulder? Wall, here's the answer." He pointed to a low bough which stretched right across the trail, and at once Joe's eyes searched it. There was a small gash on the side from which Hurley must have approached the branch, and the gash extended underneath for some little distance, perhaps for a matter of three inches, while right at the end a piece of bark had been torn out.
"Plain, ain't it?" said Hank. "You could draw his picture, ef you had a pencil and paper and was a hand at sich things. Just tell us how it was."
"Fast asleep and bending forward," ventured Joe.
"Jest so. Bendin' forward, 'cos that's the way with a man that has dropped off in his saddle. Wall?"
"Gun slung over his shoulder—right shoulder, I should say."
"Why?" snapped Hank. "No guessin', now."
"Because the gash on this side of the branch slants in that direction, looking at it from below."
"Good fer you. Get ahead!"
"I shouldn't have guessed that the gash was caused by a rifle, though," admitted Joe, with candour. "You told me that part of it. However, I think the gun was over his right shoulder; the muzzle caught the branch and swept Hurley backward till he toppled out of his saddle. I suppose he awoke with a start and made a frantic effort to keep his seat. That's when the muzzle—perhaps the sight of the rifle—dug deeper into the bark and ripped a piece away."
"You aer gettin' along fine," said Hank encouragingly. "What next?"
"There's where he fell," said Joe, pointing to the trace. "His fall startled both horses; one went to the right and the other to the left. They were roped together in all probability, or they would have gone farther apart. Hurley picked himself up, scrambled on one of their backs, and went ahead."
"Cussin' at bein' so shook up," grunted Hank. "That's a fine tale, and you've told it well, young chap. But next time you must be the fust to spot things like this without gettin' hints from anyone. Mike," he called softly, "what'll you do?"
"That's jest what I'm wonderin'," came the answer. "How'd you fix it?"
The shrewd and sharp little Hank had no doubts on the matter; in fact, it was clear that he had come to a decision promptly, the moment he had seen what had happened. "There ain't two ways for it," he said crisply. "Hurley's 'way ahead, and not so far, neither. Most like, ef he feels as we're close on his heels, he'll choose a likely spot and turn. Now we don't want to let him feel anything of the sort, and so it's up to us to creep on without a sound. Ef I war boss here I'd send three or four of the party 'way ahead, t'others to follow, and be ready to dash along up ef there was a call. But four ought to be enough to collar Hurley ef he was without a rifle, while the same number kin easy round him up and hold him till t'others arrive."
"Then that's jest what I was thinking," cried Mike, looking across at Peter.
"Same here," nodded that individual. "Hank aer the boy fer jobs of this sort. He's had experience, while chaps same as I am can't hope to know much about tracking, when the best part of our time's spent on our sections. Ef he says go ahead like that, why, in course it's up to us to do it."
"Then we'll send Fox along," said Mike. "I'll go ahead too, and Hank with me. Who else?"
"Why not Joe?" asked Hank suddenly. "He's cute, he is, and he ain't likely to get scared. You could shoot, lad, ef this Hurley turned and fired in amongst us?"
"I would certainly," admitted Joe. "Of course, I don't want to have to, for I should hate to kill or injure a man; but then he's a murderer."
"He's that," agreed Mike, with energy, "and he don't deserve soft treatment. Still, ef he'll come in quiet, he shall be treated fair; ef he don't, why, then, it's his own lookout. Best go afoot; eh, Hank?"
"Sure! We can move jest as fast, and we shan't make anything like the sound. You get ahead with Fox, Mike; I'll take Joe and larn him a little as we go."
At once they handed over their horses to their comrades, Joe passing his to Peter.
"You're in real luck, you are, lad," whispered the latter, as he took the bridle. "I ain't never seen Hank take so much trouble with anyone, least of all a green 'un lately out from the Old Country. He aer fair took to you, and Hank aer one of them queer cusses that when he's fixed a thing in his own mind he don't never alter. So you've a friend there as you kin count on."
Slinging a bag across their shoulders, and packing a tin mug and some provisions, the quartet took up their rifles, saw that they had sufficient ammunition, and then strode off through the deepening gloom of the forest, the silent and ever-watchful Fox in advance, with Mike close behind him; at a little distance in the rear came Hank, with Joe beside him.
"Jest you watch this," whispered the little man. "That there Fox don't make a sound as he goes, nor Mike neither, and he's a big man. Wall, see how they tread: always with caution; always lookin' first to see what's underfoot. And ef they can't see, as'll be the case afore long, why, then, they bends down and feels. You've got to be wary all the while, I tell you. Supposing as you go you swung the butt of your gun agin one of these tree trunks, wall, a man as was listening could hear the sound half a mile away, for a forest carries sound; then, supposin' you was to step on a piece of fallen branch, fallen perhaps last year and dry as tinder now, why, it'd break with a crack that would make you think someone had fired a gun, and that 'ere Hurley would hear it whether he was listening special or not. So go carefully, whatever you do; silence aer important."
Joe found the task he had undertaken one of the most fascinating he had ever attempted, for he was aware that the other three who formed the party were experienced men, and unlikely to do anything to cause an alarm. It was with himself that the danger lay, and he determined then and there that he would return Hank's kindness in asking for him to be one of the band by taking every care to avoid noise. Yet it was not by any means an easy matter, for Fox pushed the pace. The lean Indian strode forward with a long, stealthy stride, making not so much as a sound. His head was bent towards his chest, his back bowed, while the inward-pointed toes of either foot seemed to be able to see every twig beneath them, and avoid them as if they were so many tinned tacks, liable to cause a spasm of agony to the one who trod upon them.
The huge and bulky Mike, contrary to one's expectations, followed the Indian with fairy-like footsteps; for the policeman was possessed of a wonderfully springy step, which carried him silently through the forest. Hank's method of progress hardly needs description. The little, lean man, whose features expressed his character so faithfully, strode along in silence, and with such apparent unconcern and carelessness that one would almost have expected him to trip over some rotting stump, or in other way create some sound liable to reach the ears of Hurley. But that was Hank's way. As a matter of fact, the little fellow might be said to be all ears and eyes. He never seemed to step aside, or to alter by the merest inch the length of his paces; and yet contrast his movements with those of our hero. Joe was in a fever; his eyes were glued to the ground, while his legs were flung this way and that; for every second he seemed to see some lurking twig, the smallest pressure upon which would send an alarm ringing through the forest.
Two hours later the light had failed to such an extent that it became difficult to see the underwood, and the whole party was forced to proceed as best they could, an occasional sharp crack showing that one or other had stepped on a branch.
"Seems to me as ef we was coming somewheres near water," said Hank, after a long silence. "Somehow the air feels moister, and I've heard tell as there are big lakes in this direction. What's that 'ere Injun stopped for?"
"Men been here before," exclaimed Mike, who had halted beside the Indian as Hank came up. "Fox has found trees cut down; lumbermen perhaps have been in this direction."
"Seems to me as ef we was nigh clear of the forest too," said Hank. "I've kinder felt water this past half-hour, and ef we pushes on a few yards, seems to me we'll sight it. Ef so, Hurley aer closer than we thought, for he'll have had his way stopped, and will have had to turn. Let's git on."
They proceeded again, but this time with added caution, and within a little while suddenly broke their way out of the forest on to the bank of a lake which seemed to be entirely surrounded by dense tree growth. It was almost too dark to distinguish the size of this lake, though Hank declared that it was very large.
"What's more, we're at the far end of it," he said, with conviction, "and ef I'm right, this Hurley ain't had to go so far out of his course. He'll have cut to the right a little, and then straight north again. I kin see his game too. He aer making for James Bay in the hope that he may hit upon one of the Hudson Bay steamers going north. It aer a long journey, but ef he could win through he'd be safer than anywhere else. See here, he's gone right as I said he would."
They turned along the trail again, this time in the gloaming, their eyes now and again turned to the surface of the lake afar off, where the rays of the setting sun were reflected. Not that they could see the sun itself—that orb was entirely hidden by the trees—but perhaps its light reached the water by way of some huge gap in the foliage at present unseen by the little party.
"A hut, 'way over there!"
It was Mike who brought all to a sudden stop by this information, sending them one and all to their knees, so as to make themselves less visible.
"Not as it aer likely as he could see us any more'n we could see him," said Hank. "Still, it aer always wise to take precautions. Now I guess there is jest one thing fer us to do. We want to strike right off into the forest and skirt round till we're closer to that 'ere hut. Of course, Hurley mayn't have stopped there; but then he may. Ef so, like as not he'll be watchin' the trace he's left, and ef we continued to follow it, he'd see us in half a jiffy."
"Then let's get moving," cried Mike impatiently. "I'm for taking Hurley the very first moment we can. But we shall have to rush him; he's not the sort of fellow to give in without a struggle, and he'll kick hard, you may say for certain."
"He's bound to put lead into someone or sommat," agreed Hank dryly. "We've got to get him cornered, and then attract his attention in one direction while some of us rushes him from the other. Now, boys."
"This way." Mike led the way beside the Indian, and once more the little quartet dived into the forest, where giants towered on either hand. Not that your wooded country in New Ontario can show such enormous trees as are to be found much farther west, on the far side of the Rocky Mountains, in British Columbia, to wit. For there a favourable climate and a wonderfully fertile soil has caused monsters to rear their heads to enormous heights, while the girth of some is stupendous. But New Ontario can show some arboreal development that is not to be despised, while in parts timber groups itself into great forests, some of which have perhaps never yet seen a white man, though the majority have by now witnessed the arrival of prospectors, and may even have echoed to the ring of the lumberman's axe.
Threading their way amongst the trees, and now and again having to clamber over some fallen giant—for here, on the edge of the lake, the trees were more exposed to winter winds, and some had suffered in consequence—Joe and his friends gradually worked their way along till opposite the part where the southern bank of the lake turned abruptly north. Following this new direction, and creeping with the utmost care through the undergrowth, it was some little while before they were within sight of the hut which they had viewed from their first position. It stood down by the water, thickly surrounded by undergrowth, though the trees which had at one time no doubt reared their heads there had been felled. It was just a small shack built of logs and roofed with strips of bark.
"Nigh falling to pieces too," whispered Hank, who had wonderful eyesight. "Guess a lumber gang was 'way up here some little time back, and that's where they worked and lived during the winter. The question now aer this. Where's Hurley? Ef he's hidin' there we have him. Ef he ain't, why, lookin' at the hut don't help us any, and merely lets him get farther off."
"We'll send Fox forward, then," answered Mike, his mouth close to Hank's head, "unless you think that you——"
"No, I don't say as I couldn't get there and back without even a Redskin hearin' or seein' me," said Hank; "but then I might fail. And it's jest sense ef you've got an Injun to make use of him. The critters is that cunning, they'd nigh creep into a house and be sittin' down beside you before a man was aware that they was there. They're the silentest and the most cunnin' fellers as ever I did set eyes on. Ef it wasn't that Hurley might be over yonder, I'd tell yer a yarn of how a Redskin crawled into my camp one night and as near killed me as possible. But send him off, while we lie down close."
Sinking their bodies in the undergrowth, they lay still for some twenty minutes, during which Fox was away from the spot. He went off towards the hut with merely a low grunt to show that he knew what was expected of him, and though Joe did his utmost to follow the man's track, there was never a sound, never a waving bramble to show where Fox had gone. Then, quite suddenly and unexpectedly, our hero discovered the Indian crawling in behind him.
"Shucks!" grinned Hank, watching Joe. "I was wonderin' when you'd get wind of him. That 'ere chap could ha' knifed or tomahawked you easy. How did I know that he was comin'? That's what you're trying to ask. Jest this way—you heard a frog croaking a while back?"
Joe had; he had wondered where the beast was, and had listened to the call three or four times repeated. He nodded in Hank's direction.
"Wall, that war this here Injun cuss. It was jest his signal to let us know as he was comin', so that we shouldn't get blazing into the bush and shooting him. Seen anything?" he asked, swinging round on the Indian, who, now that his task was accomplished, was seated nonchalantly behind Mike, not venturing to give his news till he was interrogated.
"Seen the man," came the curt answer. "Tracks lead right to the shack. Hurley lying down asleep, I think. Horses hidden in the forest to the left."
"Ah! Then this chase is drawin' to a close," said Mike, satisfaction in his tones. "Hurley's there, fast asleep, perhaps. Seems as ef he must have made up his mind that we'd stopped for the night. Guess we can walk right in and take him—eh, Hank?"
"Shouldn't, ef I was you; Hurley aer as cute as a hull bag o' monkeys. True, he aer dead sleepy, onless he managed to get some sleep on his hoss, which ain't altogether onlikely. Only he got knocked out of the saddle, as you might easily expect. Supposin' he ain't asleep, but aer lyin' hid there, you ain't going to take him so easy. Seems to me the fust thing's to make sure of the hosses; then you kin creep in, and ef you still ain't certain whether he's awake or asleep, why, one of us kin kick up a rumpus close handy. That'll bring him out, when t'others can jump on his back and take him."
"Then Fox will see to the horses," declared Mike promptly. "We three will creep up close to the house. As soon as Fox sends us his signal we'll get closer, and if there's no sign of our man, we'll send Joe out to draw him. Savvy, lad?"
"Quite," said Joe. "I'll strike a blow with the butt of my rifle on one of the trees and then sit down close to the trunk."
"And keep out o' sight," advised Hank. "That ere the hull ticket, Mike. There ain't no use waitin'. Jest now there's a little light; in half an hour a fellow will want a pine knot flaring before his face ef he wishes to know where he's going."
Once more the little party was set in motion, Fox detaching himself from the others. As for Joe, he crawled after Hank, every muscle of his body vibrating. Every now and again his eyes went to the hut, now easily distinguishable; for though it was dark within the forest, there was still some light over the lake, while the hut itself stood silhouetted against the fast-failing rays of the setting sun as they fell aslant the water. Perhaps it took the trio ten minutes to reach the shack. Perhaps the minutes were even shorter, though to our hero the time seemed terribly long. His patience, indeed, was badly strained before he had taken up what was to be his position. As for Hank and Mike, they were lying down within ten feet of the shack, on that side away from the door opposite which was Joe. It now only remained for Fox to send his signal. As for Hurley, there was no sign of him. He might have been a hundred miles away. Suddenly there came a loud neigh from the depths of the forest, followed by another, and then a whinnying which told of the presence of horses. Joe heard the beasts stamping as if they were frightened, or as if the arrival of the Redskin had caused them pleasure. In any case, the noise came to the hut distinctly. A second later Joe imagined he heard a sound from within. It was followed by the sudden appearance of a figure, bent almost double, and rushing out into the open, as if some force were behind him and propelling him. Indeed, long before our hero could lift his weapon or could shout, Hurley—for he it undoubtedly was—had bounded across the narrow open space about the shack and had dived into the forest.
"After him!" bellowed Mike at the top of his voice, as he plunged through the bushes. As for Hank, no sound left his lips. The little man trailed his rifle and went off after Hurley with his head down and his ears pricked, and eager to catch every sound. Need the reader feel surprised that Joe followed suit. Recovering from the utter astonishment into which the sudden manoeuvre had thrown him, he gripped his own weapon and darted after his comrades. He could hear them directly to the front, and dashed headlong after them. Then his already-wounded head came into somewhat violent contact with a branch, and Joe sat down rapidly. But he pulled himself together after a while, and, with his brain dizzy and buzzing, thrust his way onward through the dense growth of trees and underwood. How long he continued the effort he never knew. Suffice it to say that he made a desperate endeavour to keep up with and gain upon his fellows. Then, of a sudden, he discovered that there was not one single sound to direct him. A minute before he had imagined he heard the crash of men dashing through the forest; now there was a deathly silence all about him. He stood still, panting, endeavouring to silence his own breathing and to still the thud of his throbbing heart. No, not a sound but what was made by himself. He shouted—not an answer; not a shout in return. He called loudly on Hank and Mike to tell him of their direction. Then, as the minutes passed and silence still surrounded him, he pushed valiantly on amongst the trees, hoping every half-minute that there would be a signal. Whether he went directly forward or retraced his steps, or faced the east, the west, the south, or the north, Joe was entirely ignorant. He was lost, in fact. The knowledge after a while drove him frantic, so that he plunged aimlessly to and fro; then, fortunately for him, perhaps, a second collision with a tree knocked him senseless. For the moment his troubles were forgotten, though his plight was still the same; and the plight of a man lost in the backwoods of Canada is often enough desperate. Indeed, many a poor fellow has gone, never to be found again, swallowed by the trees which, as the years roll on, are felled to form the log huts of the settlers crowding into the Dominion.
CHAPTER X
A Hand-to-hand Encounter
While Joe lies senseless in the depths of the forest, lost entirely to his friends, and in as desperate a condition as he well could be, it will be as well to follow the footsteps of Mike and Hank as they dashed away in pursuit of Hurley. Both were well accustomed to the muskegs and the timbered lands of Canada, and, if only the truth were known, had before now been engaged in a similar expedition. But following a murderer during the daytime through such a place, and at a sedate pace, was entirely different from the same attempt at night, and all the while at such speed that precautions could not be taken.
"Ef that ain't the third time I've barged into a tree trunk and near had all the breath knocked out of my body," growled Mike, when he had progressed a mile, and was still well behind Hank. "Seems to me that we should ha' done better to sit down and wait till morning, or lit pine knots and then followed. Hank may do it; I shan't. This forest fairly beats me."
But Mike was a man possessed of wonderful perseverance and tenacity, and, in spite of the numerous occasions on which he blundered into trees, he held to the chase till he also, like Joe, lost his comrade. He stood listening for a sound to tell him where Hank was striding between the trees, then, hearing nothing after quite a long wait, the wary and experienced Mike sat down in the most comfortable attitude he could assume, dragged his ever-faithful pipe from his pocket, and, having filled and lit the weed, puffed away philosophically.
"Hurley ain't got nothing to fear from me, that's certain," he told himself, not without some amount of disappointment and bitterness. "But Hank is the boy to keep him running. The little chap is that hard, he could keep at it all night and right into to-morrow, and he'll stick to his man unless something clean throws him off the scent. For me, reckon I'm trapped here. I'll have a smoke and then a sleep. Early in the morning I'll consider things, and then push on or make back to the hut, as seems best."
Meanwhile Hank slid through the forest as only a practised hunter could have done. It was on this night expedition that he proved his worth, as also the value of an early training. For while Mike dashed so often against a tree, and we know that Joe had done so to his own injury, Hank seemed intuitively to know when a low-hung branch stretched across the path he was following. More than that, somehow he contrived to keep directly on the trail which Hurley was making.
"I'm getting closer," he told himself, when a whole hour had passed. "Any time now Hurley'll turn, and then, ef he don't climb down and cry out that he's beaten, I'll have to put lead into his carcass. That's him 'way ahead, making as much noise as a bull would ef he was gallopin' through the forest."
Loud bangs and crashes indeed told of Hurley's presence, for the trees carried every sound, and accentuated most. It may be imagined, therefore, that the sudden cessation of all noise astonished Hank considerably.
"Eh?" he asked himself, coming to a halt and standing perfectly still so as to listen the better. Not that Hank's breath was coming fast, as in the case of our hero; no, he was not even panting. His heart beats were scarcely increased in number in spite of his exertions, which only went to prove that constant training, correct diet, a good digestion, and a happy and contented mind are advantages possessed by men such as Hank who live their lives in the open. "Not so much as a sound," he told himself. "Now, what has happened? Seems to me likely that Hurley aer turned and ha' got his gun ready fer shootin'. Wall, an old bird same as me don't get frightened jest because lead may be flyin'. It wants a clever or a lucky man to make a hit in the darkness, specially when there's tree trunks all round to give a fellow cover. I'm going to move forward."
He drew back the hammer of his gun, for Hank was a conservative little fellow.
"None of yer new-fangled guns fer me," he had said more than once. "Mind you, I 'low as the new 'uns is fine, and has many advantages. A chap can load and fire twenty times perhaps while I am fiddling with this trigger. 'Sides, I've one myself, and know 'em well. But ef there ain't likely to be quick firin', give me this old thing."
Gripping the weapon in one hand, he bent double and went on stealthily, and in five minutes he had gained some fifty paces. But of Hurley there was no sign. The murderer gave no signal which told of his whereabouts, and though Hank stole on farther, still there was nothing to indicate where Hurley had got to.
"Fair beats the band," growled Hank, beginning to doubt his own powers of trackin'. "I'm past the spot where I last heard him, and I'm dead sure he ain't been within ten yards. Hurley aer a town man, and I'm game to say as he couldn't have sat so still as I should miss him. This fair puzzles me—oh!"
His keen ear heard something towards the left, then again there was silence, save for the murmur of the breeze playing amongst the leaves overhead. Hank slid in that direction promptly, only again he gave a gasp of astonishment, and finally one of extreme annoyance; for it seemed that he had missed Hurley's new path by but a very little. It is not to be wondered at that he had not always been able to follow the exact steps which the fugitive had taken, for he was tracking now not by signs conveyed to him by leaves and sticks and bushes, but by sound alone—the noise of the murderer as he broke his way through the underwood. When that had ceased, Hank had lost direction slightly. He had turned just a little to the right, whereas to the left, where Hurley had passed, there was a curious clearing. It was a broad glade, in fact the same through which the falling sun had sent its glancing rays to the surface of the lake. Clear of trees, thickly covered with grass, it offered a carpet which deadened all footsteps. No wonder that Hank had heard nothing. It was a fortunate matter, indeed, that some slight sound, perhaps his boot striking a pebble, had shown Hurley's position. Hank bounded into the glade as if he had been shot out of the forest.
"Thunder!" he growled. "Ef that ain't the cutest move of any as he's practised! He's made back towards the lake, that's fer certain. There ain't no use in waitin'."
Once more his gun was trailed, and this time, bent less low than formerly, the little hunter went speeding off in the direction Hurley had taken. Nor did the darkness trouble him, for whereas amongst the trees it had been intensely dark, here in the glade it was comparatively light, and a man with eyes such as Hank possessed could detect every obstruction.
We will leave him in pursuit of Hurley, and, having already shown Mike calmly smoking in his leafy retreat, will once more visit our hero. Joe was in a sad way, and it was, without shadow of doubt, a boon to him that collision with a tree knocked him senseless, for but a few moments before there had come to him that stupid, senseless frenzy which comes to those who are lost. Even the brave man is not proof against that frenzy. Sudden, nameless terror snatches at him; the very silence mocks him, while calmness and reason, virtues of which he may well have been the proud possessor earlier, leave him as if he were a leper. Distraction, desperate and hopelessly unavailing effort follow, and finally there comes exhaustion. The unhappy wretch who is entirely lost may become calm when strength has left him, and die merely from want of food and water; but more often madness is the enemy which finally accounts for his ending.
It was as well, therefore, for Joe that a severe blow on the head drove all sense and knowledge from him. He lay like a log for hours, and if we describe his condition faithfully, we must declare that the blow was not entirely responsible. Joe was fagged out with his long efforts; it happened, therefore, that a deep, refreshing sleep followed upon the unconsciousness produced by collision, and carried him well on into the morning. The shaded rays of a risen sun were streaming in upon his leafy prison when he finally opened his eyes.
"Hallo! Hank!" he called, and, getting no reply, turned to stare about him. "My word, don't my head hurt just! Now, how's that? Why, if—— Where am I?"
His brain was still muddled, though wonderfully refreshed, and for quite a little while he sat thinking, trying to remember exactly what had happened. Then the knowledge of his true position came to him—he was lost in the forest.
"And made a fine ass of myself, to be sure," he cried, remembering his fears of the previous evening.
"Lost my head; got scared at the silence, and then went barging right and left. This is the dickens of a muddle. Here am I, goodness knows where. Anyway, in Canada, I'm dead certain."
That set him laughing—for Joe was a merry fellow—moreover, the warm rays of the sun streaming down upon him, together with the fact that the past few days had accustomed him to his surroundings, cheered him wonderfully. He began to whistle, an old habit, and then recollected that he was hungry.
"I'll be better for some food, that's certain," he told himself. "I can't think properly as yet. But there's one thing I am sure of—I behaved like a child of two last night. I clean lost my head, and am jolly glad there wasn't anyone else here to watch me. My, how Hank would laugh, and Fennick too! Wonder how he and his wife are doing, and Jim and Claude too. Wonder, also, whether Hurley's captured."
Quite accidentally his hand fell into the bag which he had suspended over his shoulder, and it was with a gasp of pleasure that he remembered that provisions were inside. Joe dragged them out, and, just to show his independence, gathered some sticks and lit a fire. Water was what he wanted now, and a search for that commodity told him still more of his own condition of mind on the previous evening; for his way took him along the track he had himself formed, and presently he came to a part which looked very much as if a circus horse had been driven there, and forced to carry out all sorts of evolutions. Tracks led through the underwood to right and left, crossed one another, and joined sometimes so that two or three were side by side. In one he came upon his rifle, a find which caused him pleasure; but where the outlet was, in what direction he had been coming when he reached this spot, Joe could discover not the smallest inkling.
"Anyway, there's water," he said, filling the kettle which he carried slung to his belt, and which had received a sad battering in the forest. "Jolly glad I've got the tea—that'll put life into me—then I'll have to think this matter out; shouldn't wonder if a shot wouldn't bring an answer."
It was a brilliant idea, and cheered him wonderfully. Let us say, too, that Joe needed cheering. In spite of his undoubted courage, and of a naturally cheery disposition, the terror of the intense silence of his huge prison sometimes almost got the better of him. It was with an obvious effort that he beat down the feeling. Retracing his steps to the fire and busying himself with his cooking preparations helped him wonderfully, and when at length he had swallowed a hot cup of tea and had eaten a couple of grilled slices of meat he felt distinctly better.
"I'll try a shot now," he told himself, "then I'll think matters out. I wonder in what direction I came—beats me hollow."
He was in the act of loading, for he had withdrawn the cartridge popped into his gun on the previous evening, when a sound suddenly reached his ears and caused him to sit bolt upright.
"Eh?" he asked himself. "Hank or Mike or Fox perhaps. Hope so."
There it was again, the noise made by a man thrusting a way through the underwood. Joe gathered up his belongings, stamped out the fire, and went off in that direction. Bang! Crash! He heard the noise time and again, and getting nearer. It seemed, indeed, as if someone were coming towards him. Perhaps five minutes later, when, convinced of the fact, he had thrown himself down to wait and watch, the figure of a man came into view, seen somewhat indistinctly between the maze of leaves and branches.
"Mike!" thought Joe. "About his size. No; too small, though it's a big man but less bulky than Mike. Can't be Hank. Then who is it? Hurley!"
The knowledge that the murderer was actually before him sent a rush of blood to Joe's head. His ears throbbed and buzzed, his pulses beat spasmodically, while his heart thundered against his ribs.
"Hurley!"
Joe climbed silently to his feet and raised his rifle. He now could see the man approaching him better, and could no longer have any doubt as to who it was. It was, without a question, the murderer whom he had fought outside the shack in defence of Tom, the very man Hank and his fellows, with Mike, the policeman, had been following now for such a time.
"Hurley! Still escaping! Then Hank failed to get him! Where's his gun?"
Joe peered through the leaves and branches, and presently caught a glimpse of the weapon which it was known the murderer carried. He bore it before him, fending brambles away with it as he went. That gun, no doubt, was loaded, and Hurley still able and willing to slay anyone who dared to intercept him. What was Joe to do? Let him go? Funk the business, or call to him and chance a bullet?
"Nasty thing if he hit me here; nobody would know. I might be badly wounded and help never reach me. Rotten that, very!"
Joe shivered. We are describing his feelings and his actions with the utmost truth and fairness, and truth compels us to say that he shivered. He looked about him doubtfully, seeing nothing but leaves and waving branches and underwood, with the figure of a man he knew to be already a murderer breaking a path through the forest quite near at hand, while a rifle was borne prominently before him. Bear in mind, too, that Joe had had a terrifying experience already, that he still bore a wound given by the bully, while his scalp was sore and his brain still dizzy with the collisions he had experienced on the previous evening.
"He'll miss me by fifteen feet," said Joe, measuring the distance with his eye. "If I like to stay quiet he'll be by in a jiffy, and then—then I'll be safe!"
He could have kicked himself for the thought; the blood flew to his cheeks again and shamed him. He clenched his teeth and bobbed his head higher.
"Frightfully tempting to funk the meeting," he told himself wrathfully; "but I'll not be such a coward.
"Hurley!" he shouted.
The man stopped abruptly, his eyes shooting into sudden prominence.
JOE SURPRISES HURLEYJOE SURPRISES HURLEY
JOE SURPRISES HURLEYJOE SURPRISES HURLEY
"Hands up!" bellowed Joe, keeping well hidden. "Hands up or——"
There was a loud report which reverberated through the wood, while a rattle overhead told its tale unpleasantly. A shower of severed leaves sprayed on to Joe's head, while he listened to a curious click with which soldiers are familiar.
"Loading again—might get me next time. Shall I plug him?" he asked himself.
Very cautiously he lifted his rifle, and with it his head, which he had ducked at Hurley's shot. But where was the man? There was no sign of him. He had disappeared entirely.
"Dropped down where he was, and is waiting and watching. Dead certain he isn't moving," said Joe, "or I'd hear him. I'll wait and watch too."
Presently his patience was rewarded. A black sleeve came into view—only a tiny triangle showing—then the muzzle of the weapon. Joe levelled his own on the sleeve and called again loudly.
"Drop that gun, Hurley," he shouted roughly, "or take the consequences!"
The answer came so swiftly that he was astonished, and once again our hero had the unpleasant feeling of a bullet passing within close distance of him. Under the circumstances it required nerve to kneel a little higher, take aim just a foot below the spot where he had seen that sleeve, and press his own trigger. Then, like a dart, he sprang away, and within a moment was located behind a stout birch tree, which gave excellent cover.
"Got him, I think," he gasped. "There was a shout directly I fired. Wonder if I killed him?"
The thought set his ears tingling and a nasty cold feeling down the centre of his back. Joe wasn't bloodthirsty by any means. He hated the very thought of killing a man; but here it was decidedly a case of Hurley or himself. Softness and pity would be thrown away on such a villain; the smallest advantage allowed would certainly end in his own undoing. It was with the utmost caution, then, that our hero peeped out from behind cover, while his fingers were busily employed in thrusting a fresh cartridge into his rifle. Moreover, he listened eagerly for any sound which might tell him that Hurley was moving. Joe had, in fact, an artful and cunning foe to deal with, and quickly found that he was very far from effecting his purpose, also that the murderer was by no means likely to give in without a struggle. For as he peeped from behind the shelter of his tree a figure rose suddenly, a weapon was fired, and at the same instant down went the figure.
"Thunder!" he exclaimed, using an exclamation which Hank was in the habit of employing. "That was a near one; chipped a nice little piece out of the bark of the tree and—yes, perforated the butt of my rifle."
Very cautiously he peered round the tree again, and then, with a sudden feeling of elation, caught sight of a black object slowly rising above the undergrowth. Joe dropped his sights on it and pressed the trigger steadily; but, to his amazement, the black object continued to rise for the space of a few seconds, then it dropped just as suddenly out of view.
"Huh!" he grunted. "A decoy! Lifted his coat on a stick and drew my fire. Two can play at that game."
But even if he were to follow Hurley's example, caution and cunning were still required. Joe dropped on to hands and knees and then spread himself face downwards on the ground. In that position he wormed his way along some three yards to the right, where he again took cover behind a tree, and on this occasion he lifted his head with the greatest care.
"He'll be watching the tree where I was located," he told himself, "and if I wait a little he'll show himself, seeing that I don't put in an appearance. Then will be the time to aim straight, for I am sure that if I don't take the fullest advantage of every opportunity he will shoot me down."
"That 'ere young cub that was the cause of most of my trouble," growled Hurley, as he lay on the ground awaiting developments. "Wall, it might ha' been wuss; I kin knock him out easy ef I'm just ordinarily cautious, then there won't be no one in the way. I'll double the hull way back—that's what I'll do—get along to the railway, and board a freight train. Down by Niagara Falls there won't be no difficulty in hoppin' across the suspension bridge, and afore these fools is much the wiser I'll be hid up in Buffalo."
His keen eye detected Joe's new position, and, watching closely, he soon saw a portion of the latter's clothing projecting from behind the tree. Up went his rifle, and an instant later the clothing fell to the ground. With a shout of triumph, Hurley stood to his feet, only to drop back again like a stone; for Joe was undamaged. He had merely played Hurley's trick upon himself, and now that the opportunity had come to him, he stood out from cover and fired direct at the man. Unfortunately, however, he was too late, his bullet tearing on through the undergrowth.
"The young cuss!" growled Hurley, startled by his narrow escape. "But I'll get even with him yet. Ef he can play a game same as that, see me foller."
He thought it all out as he lay there in the underwood, and then once again selected a suitable portion of a fallen branch. This time it was his wide-brimmed hat which he raised slowly above the leaves and ferns. But though Hurley peered from amidst the tangle of boughs and leaves, he could see no sign of our hero. It was an intense surprise to him when there came a flash and a loud report from the left, from an altogether different position, while his hat twiddled round on the branch he had thrust into it.
"Jingo! He's shootin'!" he told himself, with a growl. "Lucky my head warn't in there. But I ain't done, not by a long way. I'll try the trick agin, and then I fancy I shall have a surprise fer that 'ere Britisher."
Very slowly he proceeded to elevate his hat again, and this time so soon after the last that he guessed that Joe would hardly have had time to change his position. So that it was again a shock to find a bullet swishing rather from the right. However, Hurley was a man with an iron nerve; moreover, he knew what awaited him should he be captured. Straightway leaping to his feet and trusting to Joe not having had time to reload, he dashed into the bush and, seeing our hero, threw himself upon him furiously. Nor did he deign to make use of his own weapon. Dropping it as if it were no longer of use, he gripped Joe with both hands and, swinging him aloft as he had done once before, he prepared to hurl him against a tree. Indeed, he almost carried out that intention; but Joe managed to curl in his legs and so escape.
"You're jest about dead this time," gasped Hurley. "You'd have done far better to have stayed right at home with the kids, which are yer place, than have come out here to take grown men. That'll finish it."
But the second swing he gave didn't finish the matter. Joe was a tougher foe to deal with than Hurley imagined, for, locking his arms round the murderer, he defied his every effort to lift him. But all the while he was conscious of the fact that the man was a great deal stronger than he, and that unless he could deal him a vital blow, his own chances were far from good. It was at this critical moment, when the two were once more struggling fiercely and had rolled to the ground, that a man came darting through the underwood. Dashing up to the combatants, he placed the muzzle of his old gun against the murderer's head and called loudly on him to surrender.
"You may jest as well throw it up, Hurley," he said, with wonderful coolness, "fer I guess you're cornered. 'Sides, ef you're troublesome you're like to get the sort o' dustin' a feller don't take to kindly. So jest turn it up. Joe, get a hold of his rifle. Now, my man, you stand there agin the tree and don't try hanky-panky. I ain't particular whether it's the law that deals with yer or me. Savvy?"
Hurley did; he unloosed his grip of our hero promptly and, now that the tables were turned, stood cowed and subdued in front of Hank, eyeing his old muzzle-loader askance. As for Hank, he grinned at Joe.
"It war a near call, lad," he said. "Strange that it should be you as really cornered him. But keep yer eye on him and yer finger on your trigger. There ain't never no saying when he'll be up to games, though it won't be often he'll play 'em once Mike's up. He could lift this hulkin' feller as ef he war a baby, and my, wouldn't he give him sauce!"
Some twenty minutes later Fox put in an appearance, and after him Mike. Hurley was promptly secured, his hands being bound behind his back, for Mike had lost his handcuffs, while a stout cord was passed from the lashings and secured to Fox's wrist. Then the party wended their way through the forest, and in a wonderfully short space of time came to the hut in which Hurley had taken refuge. Here their comrades joined them in the evening.
"It war a close call," said Peter, when he had heard of Joe's adventure; "but I ain't quite clear as to how it come about that you was out there in the forest all alone. Spin us the yarn."
"I was lost, that's the simple explanation," answered Joe, telling them how he had dashed hither and thither in a frenzy, and how a collision with a tree had in the end sent him senseless to the ground. "And a mighty big bump I've got to show for it," he added ruefully.
"You're jest mighty lucky to have one to show at all, young feller," growled Hank. "I ain't been in these parts without meeting with similar cases. I've known young fellers, and oldish men too, go off into the timber and never come back. I've seed a ghost of one crawl back after a week, and he as mad as a hatter. What's more, I know what the feelin' of bein' lost is. An old hunter same as me don't never feel like that. When I war young it war different. Nowadays I could find my way out anywhere. I'd do as you did, doss down fer the night—so I reckon that blow you got war lucky,—then, when morning came, I'd watch fer the sun, and I'd go ahead always in one direction; but it seems to me as ef supper war ready."
"One moment," said Joe. "How was it you came upon the scene so opportunely, Hank?"
"How? Jest like this, and simple enough. This 'ere Hurley give me the slip, and shot out into a glade. Wall, a bit of a rattle as he passed over a stony patch told me the direction he had taken, and precious soon I had picked up his traces again. Seems he took to the lake, straddling a log he found there and pushing out. But the wind war on this shore and brought him back. Early this mornin' I dropped on his traces and found as he'd turned south. Mike come along with Fox at the same moment, and reckon we set out fer all we war worth. It war then that we heard a shot, and then others. That set me movin', and—wall, that's all."
He closed up like an oyster, and actually blushed when Joe continued. "Not all, Hank," he said earnestly; "you saved my life. I'm grateful."
"Gee! Ef I ain't that hungry!" shouted Hank, springing to his feet hurriedly. "George, ain't you got them steaks frizzled yet?"
"Ready," came the answer, while George held a stick to which the steaks were skewered aloft.
"Then we'll eat," growled Hank, as if he had recently had a quarrel with our hero; "and mind, there ain't no more gassin'."
"He aer fair set on you," whispered Peter, after the meal, taking Joe aside. "He knew you was in trouble, and I tell you he wouldn't rest. All night he war searchin' for your traces, and ef he hadn't bustled, guess he'd have reached you too late. Hank aer the queerest little morsel as ever I set eyes on."
"He's a fine fellow," declared Joe eagerly. "Some day I'll get even with him."
The following morning they mounted again, and in due course reached the settlements, where the party divided.
"Hank's comin' along to stay with us," said Peter. "How's that, young 'un?"
"Ripping!" Joe meant it; he had taken a huge fancy to the little hunter, and hoped, if he were lucky, to learn a great deal more from him.
"You'll do that right enough," laughed Peter, when our hero told him. "Hank aer a troublesome feller. It ain't often that I hear of him that he ain't been in some adventure. Jest you watch to see that he don't drag you in too. I don't altogether trust the little varmint."
"Drat the man!" exclaimed Mrs. Strike. "Joe was a steady worker afore he came here; but now, bless us! he's always wantin' to be off into the wilds and forests."
And go Joe did. He worked all through the summer and autumn, helping Peter to get in his harvest, and learning much about farming; then, leaving Tom, the lad for whom he had fought, as Peter's man in his place, he packed his bag and rode off with Hank on a prospecting expedition.