CHAPTER XII.THROUGH THE SNARE.
Thethree men began to complete their raft, working with all their power. In a few hours the work was done, and they were ready to go down the river at a moment’s warning. Then Ben set to work upon another cache for his skins,which it would be impossible to take with him. He chose a place within the cañon through which the river ran, and here he laid the skins. His brow was sad. The old man had been deceived in regard to a comrade, and he was grieved.
“Do not grieve for a bad man,” said the girl, observing his sadness. “He is not worth a single pang.”
“True enough, gal. An’ yit, I thought the lad a true one. I did indeed. But, let him go; the time will come when he’ll be sorry in his heart fer what he’s done.”
When all was ready, they pushed the raft down to the very mouth of the cañon and there embarked. The horses were abandoned. Ben took his station in front of the raft. Bentley and Jan took the sides, each armed with a long pole. Millicent crouched in the center, beside the pile of provisions which the forethought of the trapper had induced him to bring.
A perilous path lay before them. The stream ran dark and swift between huge bowlders of gray rock, rearing their heads in the air. Without the skill of Trapper Ben their lives were not worth a moment’s purchase. At first they were in the power of the “suck,” which drew them rapidly toward the other bank, and threatened to dash them on the place where the other raft was beaten to pieces. But the quick eye of Ben saw the peril and averted it. As the raft dashed down upon the wall a skillful push of the long pole sent it whirling down the stream, while the other men stood aghast, and Millicent also covered her face with her hands.
When she looked up, the present peril was over and they were dashing down the dark channel at a breakneck speed. There was a wild, triumphant look in the eyes of the old hunter, as he guided the raft on its course.
“Hurray, boys; now wear’goin’,” he shouted, “Don’t be skeered, little gal. I’ll take ye safe through, or bu’st things a-trying. Durn a Frenchman. Does he think he kin overreach me? Hey! look out fer that rock, Bentley. That’s right. You’d make a good raftsman in time. Look sharp, Jan. Thar’s a rock loomin’ up on your side. Give it a sly tap. That’s it. Well done. Ef we onc’t git on the level, itwill be all right. I’ve got an idee. Stand steady, boys. The wust time is comin’. You kain’t help me much. Bentley, go astern and when that brown rock is just abeam of us, sock that pole ag’inst it, and push ez hard ez you kin. Now mind you do it.”
“Ay, ay,” said Bentley, going to the stern. “Give me the word.”
They were now approaching a place where a fall in the bed of the stream made a rapid, in which the water was churned into dazzling foam—a terrible sight to the eyes of those not accustomed to the terrors of the western plains. Naturally brave, Millicent could not help a shudder as she saw the danger upon which they were rushing headlong. But a glance at that old man standing upright in the bow of the raft, stern and calm, grimly confident in himself, restored her courage.
Down into that wild waste of wreathing foam rushed the raft. A rock was on the right hand, one on the left, and she seemed rushing directly upon destruction in front. But, all at once, the head of the raft swung round, and showed clear water in front, perhaps ten feet in width, into which they rushed. The spray flew high overhead and for a moment blinded them. The next moment they passed out of their danger, and lay rising and falling in the more tranquil water just above another beaver-dam, in the midst of the cañon.
“Aha,” said Ben. “Hyar we be. It’ll trouble Injuns to nose us out hyar. They’ll git round lively ef they do.”
The raft floated on, and struck against the little dam. Using his pole, Ben pushed it along close to the edge of the dam and gained the shore, where he helped Millicent from the raft, and secured it.
“Dat ish goot,” said Jan. “More ash petter ash goot. De ret Blackfeet nefer finds us here. Von’t tey pe mat!” and the Dutchman laughed loudly. “Vat you do now, Penn?”
“Do? I’m going fur help. I kin git it too. I seen Crow signs when I were out on the prairie after you, Bentley, and I think an old friend of mine, Falling Oak they call him, is out on the plains. Ef I kin find him, I’ll make ye safe, ef ye dar’ to stay.”
“I am willing,” said Millicent.
“And I,” said Bentley.
“I’d rudder go mit Penn, put if he say shtay here, I does it,” cried Jan.
“Then I say stay hyar. They may need ye. Ef the wust comes, push out yer raft an’ make fer the plains. Ye mout git off thet way. Ef so be I’m above ground, I won’t be two days gone. I’ve left ye meat enough to last a week, ef ye don’t go too heavy on it. Good-by, gal. Ef I don’t come back and ye git away, remember the old man sometimes, won’t ye?”
Millicent threw her arms about his neck, and kissed him as she might have kissed her father. The face of the old man worked for a moment, and then the undaunted one was sniveling.
“Thar, git away. Ye’ve made a baby of me at last. I knew ye would. Now let me go. Good-by, boys. Whatever happens, take keer of the little gal. Be sure of that.”
He sprung upon the dam and crossed to the other side. They saw him clamber up the distant side of the mountain, and turn to wave his hand in token of farewell. Then he passed over the crest and was lost to sight.
A strange feeling fell upon them then. A feeling of loneliness, a sense of insecurity, and all felt how much they had learned to love and trust Trapper Ben. Jan felt his loss most of all, and went aside, where he cast himself down on the ground and put his arm before his eyes.
The others did not care to stay the tide of the honest Dutchman’s sorrow, and a half-hour passed in unbroken silence, when suddenly Millicent cried:
“Look there, look there!”
Above them, on a ledge of rocks, stood the strange creature which had haunted them since their entrance into the hills. Jan ran for his roer, but Bentley seized him and would not let him fire. But, at the sight of the gun, the monster sprung away and concealed himself behind a rock, from which he peeped out at them, dodging back when the gun was presented.
“Don’t you dare to fire,” said Bentley. “You do not know what danger you may bring down upon us by the act.”
Jan yielded reluctantly, and laid aside the gun. The moment he did so the creature, with its fierce laugh, sprung up the cliff and disappeared.
“Thank heaven he is gone,” said Millicent. “That monster gives me more uneasiness than the Indians and Jules Damand to boot. Something within tells me that the villain will yet give us trouble. Oh, if he should get me, by any means, in his power!” And she visibly shuddered.
“One of us must stand guard,” said Bentley. “We have more dangers than this to fear.”
“So you have,” yelled a voice on the cliff above. “Beware!”
They looked up, long enough to see the malicious face of Jules Damand looking down upon them. It was only a passing glimpse, for he disappeared immediately.
“Just as I feared,” said Millicent with a sigh. “That villain will not let us rest.”
“He knew that we would take to the river, and followed along the crest until he saw us land. There goes his rifle; he is firing at something.”
The report of the rifle was followed by the cry of the Mountain Devil. Then they heard the sound of feet upon the ledge above, and shortly after Jules Damand appeared upon the ridge, closely pursued by the wild thing. The Frenchman had a knife in his hand, and as he reached the level rock overhanging the stream, and saw that he could run no further, he turned at bay, and was ready to fight for his life. The Mountain Devil held in his hand the barrel of the rifle which he had wrenched from the hand of Jules, and the stock of which he had shattered on the rocks.
“Shall we help him, Jan?”
“Yaw,” said Jan. “Den we tie him oop.”
They began to clamber up the rocks, while Millicent stood, with bated breath, watching the combat on the ledge. The monster was raining a storm of blows upon the head of the Frenchman; but he had closed and grasped it by the shaggy hair upon its breast, so that the blows were not at the full sweep of the arm. Already the keen knife had been plunged thrice to the hilt in the body of the monster, when it threw down the rifle barrel, and caught Jules Damand in its long arms.
Millicent uttered a scream which rung through the hills, for she saw that the man was doomed. The monster had got his death-wound, but still the strength he possessed was too much for Jules Damand, even though fighting with the energy of despair. He saw the heads of Bentley and Jan appear above the ledge, and knew that they would be too late, for the monster had forced him back to the extreme edge of the chasm, two hundred feet above the torrent below.
As the feet of Bentley reached the rock he caught a glimpse of the agonized face of Damand, whose paleness was terrible. He gasped for breath and made one struggle. It was his last; for the next moment, with a demoniac laugh, the huge body of the Mountain Devil shot out into the air, bearing in its arms the form of Damand. Millicent saw them strike the water, and ran to the spot. A crimson stain told where they had gone down, and a white hand and arm could be seen struggling faintly in the flood. She seized it, and with a strength which was unnatural dragged Jules Damand out of the water. He had only time to gasp out a prayer for forgiveness, and die.
They buried him that day under the shadow of the ledge. The body of the Mountain Devil was also raised, and they laid it on the shore. Then they saw that it was in the form of a man of gigantic size, whose uncouth aspect might have been gained by companionship with beasts. They buried him too, and waited for Ben.
He came back next day, triumphant, but would tell them nothing. “Come along,” he said, and they followed with implicit faith up the ledge. The day was nearly spent when they reached their old camp, but Ben caught the horses and made his companions mount. Jules had left his horse, which had found its way back to the camp. Bentley took it. Ben gave up his own good beast to Millicent, and walked by its side. They reached the mouth of the pass, and Ben called them to a halt, and pointed out upon the prairie. There they saw the band of Whirling Breeze encamped, apparently in the greatest security.
“Load yer weepons, boys,” said Ben. “Leave the gal hyar. I’m goin’ to fire my rifle. When I do, watch the spur of the mountain yonder, an’ then foller me.”
They obeyed him. Ben raised his rifle and fired in the air. Obedient to the signal, two hundred warriors, armed to the teeth, emerged from their covert and charged the astonished Blackfeet. Ben sprung into his saddle and rode forward to aid his friends. He came too late. The band of Whirling Breeze was scattered, and he only escaped by the speed of his horse. Ben arrived in time to sequestrate two fine mustangs, and compliment the Crow chief upon the neatness and dispatch of the action.
The party proposed to return to the forts. The chief and fifty chosen warriors rode with them. Among the prisoners Ben found the son of Whirling Breeze, and asked the chief for him. The request was granted, and the young warrior was set at liberty and returned to his friends.
“Chief,” said Ben, when he had heard the story of the death of the Mountain Devil, “do ye know what that was?”
“Half-breed,” said the chief. “Mad. Lived in the Black Hills many years. Glad he dead. Kill many warriors.”
“It was a madman, then,” said Bentley. “I thought so.”
A few miles from the first fort the Indians left them. They reached the fort in safety. Here the old man and Jan bade them good-by, but not until he had seen Bentley and Millicent married by the fort chaplain. The parting was painful, and the young bride was deeply affected. But it was over at last, and Millicent, hand in hand with her husband, watched their retiring forms as they passed over the prairie, toward the distant hills.
When Bentley Morris was older, and children were growing up about his knees, in the strong young State of which he was a leading man, he often told the tale of those perilous times, with Trapper Ben and Jan Schneider, in the camp in the Black Hills.
And once a year a letter, strange in orthography and composition, comes from the two trappers. Jan is still with Ben, and will be to the last.
THE END.