The man whom old Benson had attacked was taken completely by surprise, and he went to the ground easily. But, once down, he struggled fiercely to release himself, and at the same time did his best to cry out for assistance.
"Silence!" commanded the scout in a whisper. "If you yell, it will go hard with you."
The desperado now saw who had attacked him, and his face changed color. But he continued to struggle, and was on the point of breaking away when the old scout hit him a heavy blow on the ear, which bowled him over and rendered him partly unconscious.
"Hi! did you call?" came from the other man who had been smoking.
Old Benson looked at the man before him, and saw that the fellow would be unable to do anything for several minutes to come.
"Yes," he answered, in a rough voice. "Here's something funny to look at. Come quick."
At once the second man leaped up, and without stopping to pick up his rifle came to the spring. Old Benson quickly stepped behind a bush, out of sight.
"Hullo, Riley, what's the trouble?" cried the second man when he beheld his prostrate companion.
He bent over Riley, and while he was making an examination old Benson came behind him and threw him as he had thrown the first desperado.
But the second man was "game," and the struggle lasted for several minutes. At one time it looked as if the old scout would get the worst of the encounter, but in the end he triumphed and the rascal was disarmed.
All the time the struggle was going on Benson had been afraid the third man would rouse up, especially as the second called several times for help. But the rascal had now fallen into a heavy sleep, and heard nothing.
What to do with the two desperadoes before him the old scout did not know, until he suddenly thought of a big cave-like hole he had discovered that very morning, while hunting for buffalo tracks. The hole was fifteen to twenty feet in diameter and twice as deep, and once at the bottom he felt certain the desperadoes would have considerable trouble in getting to the top.
"Come with me," he said to the second fellow. "And no monkey shines, if you know when you are well off."
"Wot yer goin' to do wid me?" growled the desperado.
"You'll see. Your blood is so hot it needs cooling off," answered the old scout.
He forced the man along, and soon the big hole was reached. Much against his will, the rascal was forced to drop to the bottom.
"Now, if you try to climb up I'll shoot you," said Benson, and ran back swiftly to where the second rascal was just getting out of his unconscious state.
Before the other desperado could realize what was coming he, too, was down in the big hole. Old Benson made certain that each of the men was relieved of all his weapons.
"Now, I'm going to keep watch on you," he said, as a warning. "Be careful of what you try to do."
"Don't leave us here!" pleaded Riley. "A buffalo or a bear might fall in on us."
"You've got to take your chances on that," answered Benson.
The next movement of the old scout was to go back to where the third man was sleeping. It was an easy matter to secure all the weapons belonging to this fellow. Then Benson procured a rope from their outfit, and bound his feet together and then his hands. During the latter operation the rascal awoke.
"Wot yer doin'?" he demanded sleepily, and then, seeing the old scout, stared in open-mouthed astonishment. "Let go o' me! Wot did yer tie me up fer?"
"You keep quiet," said Benson, with a broad smile over the trick he had played.
"Whar's Riley an' Nason?"
"Not far off."
"Did they go ter sleep too?"
"You can ask them when you see them, Anderson."
"So you know me, do yer?"
"I do, and I haven't forgotten that affair at Mountain Meadow," went on old Benson, referring to a shooting in which Anderson had been the guilty party.
At these words the desperado winced.
"Well, now ye have got me fast, wot yer goin' to do with me?" he questioned.
"I'm going to ask you a few questions, Anderson, and I want you to answer me straight, too. If I learn you've given it to me crooked, I'll fix you for it, remember that."
"Wot do yer want to know?"
"Where are Gilroy and the rest of your crowd stopping?"
"Wot do yer want to know that fur?"
"Answer the question—and tell me the truth," and old Benson looked sternly at his prisoner.
"At a cave near Bald Top," returned Anderson sulkily. "But I don't know how long they were goin' ter stay there."
"Where were they going to take Captain Moore?"
This question came as a surprise to the desperado.
"Wot do yer know about dat?" he cried.
"Answer the question."
"Goin' ter take him to dat same cave, first."
"And then?"
"Dey was bound fer Lone Creek, up to where old Cimber onct had a claim."
"You are telling me the truth? Remember, if you put me on the wrong trail——"
"It's the truth, Benson. But, say, don't be rough on me. I aint such a bad egg. Dat shootin'——"
"I know all about you, Anderson. Now come with me."
Reaching down, the old scout untied the rascal's feet, that he might walk, and then forced Anderson to journey to the big hole.
Here they found the other two desperadoes sitting at the bottom, growling over their luck and speculating upon what old Benson intended to do next.
"If you leave us here we'll die of hunger and thirst," said one.
"No, you won't," answered the old scout. "You've got your hands to work with, and if you aint lazy you can dig your way to the top inside of twenty-four hours."
"And our hosses?"
"I'll take care of them, Riley. If you want 'em again you can get 'em by applying at the fort."
"At the fort!"
"Exactly, and in the meantime we'll keep them in exchange for the animals Matt Gilroy stole, when I and my friends were stopping at Hank Leeson's cabin."
With the desperadoes safe for the time being at the bottom of the hole, old Benson set off without delay for the cave near Bald Top Mountain, as it was called for years by Rocky Mountain pioneers. He rode his own horse, leading the others by his lariat, which he always carried with him.
He fully realized that there was danger ahead, and that if he wanted to assist his friends he must move with caution. He knew that Captain Moore had been made a prisoner, but whether or not Joe and Darry had been captured also was still a question.
Coming in sight of the spot where the cave was located, he dismounted and tied all the horses in the woods at the foot of a slope. Then he crawled forward until he was within a hundred feet of the entrance to the cave.
He was just in time to see Fetter depart on his mission. The desperado passed within fifty yards of where the horses were stationed, and for several minutes Benson was fearful that the animals would be discovered. But Fetter was looking in another direction, and so saw nothing of the steeds.
As darkness had come on, the desperadoes had lit a camp-fire near the entrance to the cave.
Two men still remained on guard. The others took it easy, and did very much as they pleased. All waited for Riley and the others to return with Fetter, bringing in old Benson as a prisoner.
As the scout heard the talk about himself he chuckled grimly and grasped his rifle tighter than ever.
"Reckon you'd be surprised to know I was so close," he muttered. "Well, if it comes to a mix-up, I'll try to hold up my end, just you see if I don't!"
It was after midnight when the camp settled down to rest. Fetter had not returned, and Matt Gilroy was much worried in consequence. Yet he was tired out, having lost a good portion of the night previous in traveling, and he lay down with the others.
The guards at the entrance to the cave had been changed. Those now there were two young men, recruits to the desperadoes' organization.
Inside of the cave Captain Moore, Joe, and Darry, having untied each other's bonds, held a long consultation, the upshot of which was that they intended to escape if the deed could be accomplished.
"There is no use in telling you that we will run a big risk," said the captain. "But as for myself, these rascals are plotting against Colonel Fairfield and the soldiers at the fort, and I feel it my duty to do my best toward getting away and warning my commander."
"Whatever you do, Will, I will back you up, so far as I am able," was his brother's answer.
"And I will back you up, too," came from Darry. "But we must be cautious, for these desperadoes will not hesitate to shoot, and shoot to kill." And the boy shivered in spite of himself, for no matter how brave a person may be he seldom cares to run the risk of losing his life.
The prisoners had been ordered to keep to the back of the cave, but after all but the guards had retired Captain Moore made bold enough to walk carefully to the mouth of the place.
"Hi, you want to keep back there," growled one of the guards, promptly raising his rifle.
"Don't be hard on us," pleaded the captain. "Let me get a little fresh air. It's vile in the back of the cave."
"Orders were to keep you out of sight," growled the second guard.
"All right, I'll go back as soon as I've cleaned out my lungs."
While the captain was speaking he was peering around sharply, trying to locate the other desperadoes and ascertain what the chances of escape really were.
As he gazed first to one side and then the other, he caught sight of a hand waving in the air. A second later he made out the head and shoulders of old Benson, as the scout rose to his feet behind some brushwood.
The thought that the scout was at hand to assist them cheered the young officer wonderfully, and he drew a deep breath of satisfaction.
"Are you going back soon?" growled one of the guards.
"Yes," answered the captain. "But I say," he went on, "why can't we come to terms?"
"Don't want to make any terms with you," growled the other guard.
"It might be better for you to do so."
"We know our own business best, captain. You just go back as you was ordered to do. If you don't——"
"I don't feel safe in the cave, men, to tell the truth. What is that pounding overhead?"
"Pounding overhead?"
"Yes."
"Don't know of any pounding. Do you, Ike?"
"Nary a bit," replied the other guard.
By this time Joe and Darry were just behind the young officer.
"Watch out," whispered Captain Moore. "Old Benson is outside, in the bushes on the left."
"Good for him!" whispered Joe joyfully.
"What are you talking about?" demanded one of the guards.
"I want to know about that pounding overhead," said Captain Moore. "I don't want the roof to cave in on us."
He spoke so decidedly that both of the guards were deceived.
"Nobody is up there," said one of the two. "It must be some wild animal."
"Can't one of you go up and look?" asked the young officer.
"You want the chance to get away," was the suspicious answer.
"How can we get away, when we are unarmed and you have that rifle," went on the captain, speaking loudly, for old Benson's benefit. "It won't take you a minute to look."
The men, however, refused to budge.
"We'll stay right here," said one, and the other nodded affirmatively.
In the meantime old Benson had crawled closer, until he was directly behind the pair.
Now of a sudden he leaped between them, and as quick as a flash caught their rifles and twisted the weapons from their grasp.
As the old scout did this, the young captain also leaped in, followed by Joe and Darry.
The guards struggled, but with four against them could do little or nothing. One, however, had a powerful pair of lungs, and before he could be stopped, set up a loud cry of alarm.
"Come with me!" cried old Benson. "Be quick, or it will be too late!"
He led the way to the wood where the horses were tethered, and the captain, Joe, and Darry came close behind him.
Hardly had they gotten away from the guards when the whole camp was in alarm.
"What's the trouble?" demanded Matt Gilroy, leaping to his feet and catching up his rifle.
"The prisoners have escaped!" answered one of the guards. "We were attacked by some men from behind. There they go!"
"Stop!" roared the leader of the desperadoes, and raised his rifle. But before he could take aim our friends were behind the shelter of the trees.
It took but a few seconds to loosen the horses, and as the captain and the two boys had long since relieved themselves of their bonds they were soon in the saddle and following the old scout, who seemed to know the way perfectly, despite the darkness.
"It was lucky you came up, Benson!" cried Joe, as they dashed along.
"Wait, we are not yet out of this trouble," answered Benson. "Hark! they are following!"
He was right. Gilroy and several of his men had rushed to their horses, and were now coming along the forest trail at a good rate of speed.
But their horses were no better than the animals our friends rode, so the desperadoes did not succeed in cutting down the distance between the two parties, and at last gave up the chase.
"It has been a most stirring adventure from start to finish," said Captain Moore after each had told his story. "And it brings to an end this outing. I must now get to the fort without delay."
"And I am perfectly willing to go along," said Darry. "There is no fun in hunting in a country where the desperadoes are so thick."
"This will open Colonel Fairfield's eyes," went on the young officer. "I shouldn't be surprised if he organized another expedition against Gilroy's gang and didn't let up on them until they were all either in prison or shot down."
"It's what they deserve," came from old Benson. "I'll go on such a hunt with pleasure."
Our friends continued in the saddle all night and until ten o'clock the next morning. Then, tired and hot, they went into camp by a cooling stream. Here they went fishing, and soon caught enough fish for dinner, after which they took a nap lasting several hours.
"And now for the fort!" cried Captain Moore; "and the sooner we get there the better."
The nap had done the boys a world of good, and as they rode along their spirits rose so high that Darry proposed a race. Joe was willing, and away they went, along the well-defined trail, before either the young officer or the old scout could stop them.
"They are full of life," said Joe's brother. "Let them go. We'll make the fort to-night, even if they do tire the horses a bit."
"It's all right if they don't get into trouble," answered Benson.
On and on went the two lads, down something of a slope and then along a level stretch. The bushes grew thick upon both sides, and here and there were numerous wild flowers. At last they reached a glade rich with green grass.
Joe was slightly ahead when he came to a sudden halt.
"Back, Darry!" he cried. "Get back behind the bushes."
"What's up?" queried his cousin, as he brought his steed to a standstill.
"Buffaloes!"
"Buffaloes! Where?"
"Right around the cliff on our right. See, they are coming this way! Here's luck."
Joe was right; they had come most unexpectedly upon a herd of seven buffaloes. The shaggy beasts were all large and powerful-looking. They were not in the least alarmed, and came toward the boys at a slow but steady walk.
"What shall we do, Joe; wait until your brother and old Benson come up?" asked Darry, as they surveyed the approaching animals.
"I suppose we ought to wait," answered Joe. "But if they take alarm, they'll be off in double-quick order, I am afraid."
Each of the boys brought around his rifle, which had been picked up on leaving the desperadoes' rendezvous, and saw that it was ready for use.
"If we could only signal to the others!" suggested Darry impatiently.
"One of us might go back," began Joe, when he gave a sudden start. "They see us! See, they are turning away!" he cried.
Hardly had he spoken when Darry fired, aiming at the largest of the buffaloes. Joe followed, with a second shot, aimed at the same beast. Both bullets reached their mark, and the animal was hit in the breast and in the right foreleg.
"We hit him!" ejaculated Darry. "Let us fire at him again!" And he started to reload with all speed.
When struck the buffalo uttered a bellow of pain and went down on his knees. But he quickly arose, and now came straight for the boys, his head down, as if to gore them to death.
Crack! It was Darry's rifle which spoke up, and the buffalo staggered, hit on the head, a glancing blow, however, which did little damage.
By this time Joe had reloaded, but he did not fire at once, hoping to get a closer shot at the beast. In the meantime the others of the herd had disappeared completely.
Soon the buffalo was less than fifty yards off, and not daring to wait longer Joe took steady aim and let drive. His rifle-barrel had been pointed at one of those gleaming, bloodshot eyes, and the bullet sped true, entering the brain of the beast. With a roar and a grunt the buffalo went down, tearing up a great patch of grass in his fall.
"Hi! what's all the shooting about?" The cry came from Benson, as he rode down the trail at a breakneck speed, rifle ready for use.
"A buffalo!" cried Darry.
"A buffalo? Look out for yourselves."
"Yes, take care," came from Captain Moore, who was behind the old scout.
"We've fixed him," said Joe, not without a good deal of pardonable pride.
"Fixed him?" Old Benson looked out upon the glade. "By the great Jehosophat!" he roared. "Gone and shot a buffalo all by your lone selves! Or maybe he was dead when you got here?" he added suspiciously.
"You wouldn't think he was dead, if you could have seen him come toward us," said Darry.
"But who shot him? I heard four shots."
"And every one of 'em went into the buffalo," answered Joe. "Two for Darry and two for myself."
"But Joe finished him, with a shot in the eye," said Darry quickly.
"But Darry hit him in the leg, and that lamed him," said Joe, just as quickly. "I guess honors are even."
"Certainly remarkable shooting," was Captain Moore's comment. "Old hunters couldn't do better, could they, Benson?"
"Not much better, captain. I never would have dreamed of it, boys. And to think I couldn't get a smell of 'em when I was out looking 'em up," Benson said, shaking his head dubiously.
"This buffalo wasn't alone," said Darry. "The others went in that direction. You might follow them up."
"It wouldn't be any use now, lad. They are gone, and that's the end of it."
"We mustn't lose too much time," put in the young captain. "I must make the fort to-night, no matter what comes."
"But, Will, we can't leave this magnificent buffalo behind," pleaded his brother. "Darry and I will want the skin, and we'll want to mount the head and horns, eh, Darry?"
"To be sure."
"How long will it take to skin the beast, Benson?"
"An hour and over, if I want to make a good job of it," was the slow reply. "It's too nice a hide to ruin by quick cutting."
"Supposing I ride ahead then, and you follow with the boys as soon as you are ready?"
This was agreed to, and in a minute the young officer was off once more, urging his horse forward at the animal's best speed.
"Now I can take my time," declared old Benson. "Sorry I aint got my hunting-knife."
"Where is it?"
"It was lost in the shuffle with those desperadoes I put in the hole." The old scout chuckled. "My! my! how they must love me for putting 'em down there!"
"They'll have it in for you when they get out," remarked Darry.
"Oh, I'm not afraid, lad."
The buffalo had fallen into something of a heap, and it took their combined efforts to turn the huge carcass over. Then old Benson got out his clasp-knife, sharpened the blade upon the leather of his boot, and set to work, the boys assisting him as much as possible, which was not much, since the process was entirely new to them.
"That will be a load," said Joe, when they had the skin and a part of the head free. "How much do they weigh, Benson?"
"Close on to a hundred pounds."
"And how shall we carry that load?"
"We'll tie it up into something of a long bundle and take turns at toting it behind our saddles. Of course we won't be able to move along as fast as before, but that won't be necessary, now the captain has gone ahead to break the news."
The trail now led toward the river where Darry had almost lost his life by being hit with the drifting tree. The path was uncertain in spots, and they had to be careful for fear of getting into some boggy hole.
"What a splendid place for a ranch home!" suggested Darry. "Benson, I am surprised that there are so few cabins in this neighborhood."
"There used to be quite a number through here, lad; but the Modoc and other Indians burnt them all down. I suppose new settlers will come in, now the Indians are behaving themselves."
"But are they behaving themselves?" questioned Joe.
"They are doing a good deal better than formerly, Joe. There is only one old chief in this neighborhood who seems to want to cause trouble."
"And who is that?"
"White Ox. He is some sort of a relative to Sitting Bull, so I've been told, and he won't give in that the white man is master of the situation. He has tried to get his warriors to rise against us several times, but so far he hasn't accomplished much."
"Where is White Ox now?"
"Over behind yonder mountain to the north. He is chief of a band that numbers between a hundred and a hundred and fifty people. He himself is one of the best Indian shots in the West."
"It's a pity they can't become citizens as well as other folks," remarked Darry.
"That's the whole trouble, lad. The United States didn't treat them right in the first place, and we are bound to suffer in consequence. But in the end the Injun will be wiped out completely."
As night came on, countless stars shone in the sky, making the trail fairly light. Old Benson rode in advance, with Darry next and Joe bringing up the rear.
Presently the old hunter drew rein, and motioned the others to do the same.
"Somebody ahead," he said in a low voice. "Four or five men on hossback. If I aint mistaken they're Injuns, too."
"Indians!" exclaimed Joe. "Do they come this way often?"
"No, lad. Fact is, they haven't any right over here, so close to the fort. It's against Colonel Fairfield's rules."
"Then what can they be doing here?"
"That's for us to find out."
Old Benson led the way to a side trail, and then into the shelter of a number of trees.
He quickly passed the pelt over to Darry.
"Both of you stay here until I get back," he said. "I'm going to find out what those redskins are up to."
"You won't be gone long, will you?" asked Joe.
"Don't expect to be gone over an hour at the most. If I aint back in two hours, make up your mind something has happened. Then you'll have to get back to the fort the best way you can," concluded the old scout.
A moment later the darkness of the night hid him from their view, and they were left alone in the bit of timberland.
"I must say I don't fancy this much," observed Joe, after the sounds of Benson's departure had lost themselves in the distance.
"Nor do I like it, Joe," came from Darry, with a long-drawn sigh. "But I guess we'll have to make the best of it."
"With what was on that message my brother found in the cave, and what Benson said about this Indian chief, it looks as if the folks at the fort might have trouble in the near future."
"That's true, too. I hope Will got through in safety."
Dismounting, the two boys sat down under the trees to wait in the darkness. The horses were glad enough of the rest, and fell to cropping the short grass which showed itself in spots in the vicinity.
Thus half an hour passed. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional note of a night bird or the dismal croaking of a frog in some hollow and the answering squeak of a lizard.
"Somebody is coming!" cried Joe at last, and both of the boys stood on the defensive, rifles in hand. The party came closer and closer, and at last they made out the form of the old scout. He was riding at the top of his speed.
"Quick! follow me!" he exclaimed, as he dashed up. "There is not a moment to lose!"
The boys needed no second bidding, and in a trice they were in the saddle once more and riding after old Benson, who now took to another trail leading somewhat to the south of that formerly pursued.
"You saw the Indians?" questioned Joe, as they dashed on.
"I did. White Ox is ahead, with sixty or seventy of his best warriors. From what I could learn he and Lieutenant Carrol have had a fight, and half a dozen of the soldiers were either killed or wounded. Now White Ox is marching for the fort."
"To attack it?"
"I can't say about that, but I think he is going to hide in the vicinity, to wait for the coming of the desperadoes."
"And what of my brother?" questioned Joe anxiously. "Did he get through all right?"
"Nothing was said about the captain, lad. I suppose he got through."
It was hard to talk while riding at such a rate of speed, and soon the conversation came to an end. The horses now showed plain evidence of their long journey, but each rider kept his steed at his best.
It was after two o'clock in the morning when the fort came into view, dark and silent in the midst of the plain surrounding it. Benson now rode in advance.
"Halt!" came the sudden command, while the scout was still a hundred yards from the stockade. The command was loud and clear, but the speaker was invisible.
"It's all right, friend," answered the old scout. "It's me, Sam Benson. Let me in, quick, I've news for the colonel."
"All right, Benson," was the answer. "But who is that behind you?"
"Joe Moore and Darry Germain. Is the colonel sleeping?"
"The colonel is very sick."
"Sick?"
"Yes."
"What's the trouble?"
"The surgeon can't make out exactly. He's in a sort of stupor, and they can't rouse him."
By this time the stockade gate was open, and all three of our friends lost no time in entering the yard. Then the gate was closed and barred again.
"Has Captain Moore returned?" asked Joe, as soon as he could get the guard's attention.
"I haven't seen him."
"How long have you been on duty?"
"Came on about an hour ago."
"Has Lieutenant Carrol come in?" came from Benson.
"Not that I know of; reckon not," answered the guard.
"Worse and worse!" groaned the old scout. "Who is in command here?"
"Captain Lee. But he's about half sick, too."
"It's a trick of the enemy!" cried Darry.
"A trick?" queried the guard with interest.
"Yes, a trick," put in Joe. "Benson, hadn't they better sound the alarm?"
"Yes, and I'll interview Captain Lee."
No more was said, and, while the sentinel called the corporal of the guard, the old scout hurried off to find the captain in command. With him went Joe and Darry. Joe's heart was like a lump of lead, for he was much concerned over the non-appearance of his brother. Had the captain met the Indians and been killed or taken prisoner?
Captain Lee was in a sound sleep, but quickly roused up when told that an important message awaited him. He met the party in one of the living rooms of the fort. His head was tied up in a wet towel, and his eyes showed that he was suffering.
"This is certainly a deep-laid plot," he said, when all had told their story. "The desperadoes and Indians intend to combine in an attack on the fort. Mose is undoubtedly that wily old half-breed who is still alive and who is very thick with White Ox. But I didn't know he could write."
"But what about this money at the fort?" asked Joe.
"The money is here, in a chest that is hidden away. It amounts to forty thousand dollars in gold, and is the property of the Nevell Mining Company. It was left for safe-keeping until Mr. Nevell could have it transported to Denver. You see, Nevell is a brother-in-law to Colonel Fairfield."
"The colonel must be drugged," said Benson. "That's the reason he acts so queerly."
"I suppose so, and that is what has affected me, I presume," answered Captain Lee. "Last night my head ached as if it would split open. We must tell the surgeon of this. Perhaps he can then do something to relieve Colonel Fairfield."
The captain lost no time in issuing the necessary orders, and in a few minutes the whole place was in alarm and the soldiers were on the watch for the first appearance of the Indians.
"My poor husband drugged!" cried Mrs. Fairfield, when she heard the news. "What villains those Indians and desperadoes are! Doctor, can you do nothing?"
"I think I can, madam," answered the surgeon. "Much depends upon what drugs were administered and how much the colonel has taken. Rest assured I will do my best for him."
Upon examination it was found that out of all the officers at the fort only four were fit for duty, all the others being sick, either through being drugged or otherwise. Of the privates not more than sixty-five were in a condition to fight should an attack come.
"And the worst of it is, the men won't know what to eat or drink after this," said Captain Lee to Benson. "Who can tell what has been drugged? Perhaps it's in the very bread we eat and the water we drink."
Strict orders were given to the men to touch nothing until the surgeon had passed upon it. Then the doctor got out his medicines to counteract the drugs, and set to work to bring the colonel and the other sufferers out of their stupor.
Hour after hour went slowly by, and still Captain Moore did not return. What had become of his brother, Joe could not imagine. He feared the worst, and when morning came it was all he could do to keep back the tears.
"Don't take it so to heart, Joe," said Darry sympathetically. "It may be all right."
"But he said he was going to ride straight here—you heard him, Darry."
"So I did, but he may have seen the Indians or met Lieutenant Carrol, and that might have changed his plans. Anyway, I wouldn't worry too much just yet."
With the coming of daylight Captain Lee brought out his long-distance glass and swept the surroundings of the fort with extreme care.
"Some camp-fires are burning to the northward," he announced.
"Any Injuns?" questioned old Benson laconically. He had been told to come along to the top of the fort for consultation.
"Nobody in sight, Benson."
"Humph! Well, I don't calculate they are far off."
"Nor I, from what you and the boys told me. How long will it take those desperadoes to reach here?"
"They ought to arrive this morning, if they are not with the Injuns already."
"All told, we have about seventy officers and men available for duty," went on the captain thoughtfully. "What is worse, they must know how greatly our garrison is reduced, since they have had that skunk of a Mose do the drugging for them."
"The Injuns number over sixty, and if there are thirty desperadoes, that will give them a force of almost a hundred, or twice as many as we have, captain. But then, we hold the fort. They can't come anywhere near us without being cut down—if we set out to do it."
"Of course. But White Ox may send off for more Indians—when he hears how small the available garrison is."
"Does he know much of affairs here?"
"I am afraid he does. There were two Indians here yesterday, to lodge a complaint against a miner who had stolen a horse from them. I think, now, that the complaint was a blind, and the Indians were here merely to size up the situation," concluded Captain Lee.
Little dreaming of all the adventures in store for him, Captain Moore left the scene of the buffalo shooting and rode forth swiftly in the direction of Fort Carson.
He felt that he carried news of great importance and the sooner he gained the fort the better. Should anything happen to Colonel Fairfield the command of the post would fall upon himself, as next in rank.
As he dashed along the trail, over hill and valley, he reviewed the situation with care, and the more he thought of it, the more worried did he become.
"Something is going to happen—I can feel it in the air," he muttered.
The thought had scarcely crossed his mind when something did happen, but not exactly what he anticipated.
A shadow fell across his path, and as he drew rein he found himself confronted by several Indians.
"White officer, stop!" cried the leader of the red men sternly.
"Hullo! what do you want?" demanded the captain. The meeting was a complete surprise.
"Want to have a talk."
"Who are you?"
"Me Red Wolf, belong to White Ox tribe," returned the Indian with a scowl.
"And what are you doing out here at this time of night, Red Wolf?"
"Indians on a big hunt. See buffalo yesterday."
"Yes, I saw one of the buffaloes myself." Captain Moore paused, not knowing how to go on. "You are pretty close to the fort."
"Red Wolf and warriors get on the wrong trail," was the slow reply. "But want to talk now. Come along."
As the Indian concluded he caught the captain's steed by the bridle.
"Let go the horse."
"Want to talk to white officer."
"You haven't any right to touch my horse."
Hardly had the words been spoken when two Indians rushed up behind the captain and dragged him to the ground.
The fellows were large and powerful, and they disarmed him before he could even fire a shot.
Without further ado Captain Moore was forced to march along, between two of the red men, while a third led his horse.
A route around the rocks was taken, and presently they came to a dense bit of timberland. In the midst of this was a clearing, and here was the camp of some ten or a dozen Indians.
The Indians at hand were a guard over several white soldiers, and to his intense surprise the young captain recognized some of Lieutenant Carrol's men.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
"Had a mix-up and came off second best——" began one of the soldiers, when an Indian guard clapped a dirty hand over his mouth and ordered him to be silent, under penalty of death.
Then the captain was taken to another part of the glade, and here he was made a close prisoner by being bound, hands and feet, to the trunk of a blasted tree.
Red Wolf wished to know what the captain had been doing away from the fort.
"I've been on a hunting expedition."
"Alone?"
"No."
"Where are the others?"
"Safe, by this time. What do you intend to do with me, Red Wolf?"
"White Ox shall decide that," grunted the red man.
"Then he is on this hunt, too?"
"He is."
"When will he be here?"
"Soon."
"Don't you know that I am an army officer, and that you are laying up a good deal of trouble for yourself by making me a prisoner?"
"The white man has not treated the Indians right."
"This is no way to redress wrongs, Red Wolf. Why don't you go to Colonel Fairfield and make a complaint? He will send the story to the Great Father at Washington."
"The Great Father will not listen. We have sent many complaints—as the white captain knows."
"He will listen—if the complaint is a just one. The trouble is, the Indians will not obey Colonel Fairfield's orders."
"And why should they obey the white man? Is not White Ox their chief?"
"That is true. But the land is now the white man's, and the Indians must obey the Great Father at Washington, or in the end it will go hard with them."
"Not so!" cried Red Wolf savagely. "In the end the white man will be driven eastward, where he belongs. No one shall rule in these mountains but the red man. White Ox and the other great chiefs have spoken."
"What! you are going on the warpath?"
"The hatchet may be dug up, if the white man will not listen to the red man."
"I know what the trouble is, Red Wolf. Matt Gilroy and that scoundrelly half-breed, Mose, have set you up to this. They have filled your ears with false stories about our cruelty and about much money at the fort."
By the look on the Indian's face the young officer saw that he had struck the truth, at least in part.
But the red man would talk no more, fearing he had already said too much, and he stalked off, warning a guard to be careful and not let the captain escape.
When left to himself, Captain Moore's reflections were very bitter.
"If the redskins are out in force they'll probably fall in with Benson and the boys," he told himself. "And if they do there will surely be trouble. Benson won't allow them to take him alive, and that will mean a good deal of shooting all around."
He listened attentively for shots in the distance, but none came, and this caused him to be more perplexed than ever.
Just before daybreak several additional Indians came in, and the young officer and the soldiers were told to march. Their feet were unfastened, but their hands were not, and they were forced to move with the red men on all sides of them, and each of the enemy fully armed and ready to shoot them down at the first show of resistance or escape.
From one of the privates Captain Moore learned that Lieutenant Carrol and the other soldiers had escaped, but what had become of them nobody knew.
The little body of whites and Indians marched over a mountain trail for fully four hours. The step was a lively one, and when the party came to a halt even the soldiers used to a hard march were tired out.
"Those redskins can walk the legs off of anything I know of," was the way one old soldier expressed himself. "They are like some of these wiry mustangs who don't know the meaning of rest."
"This region is strange to me, Peck. Do you recognize it?"
"I do, Captain Moore. Yonder is Henebeck Fall, and this trail leads to Silver Gulch."
"Then we are about six miles from nowhere in particular."
"You've struck it, captain. Why they brought us to such a forsaken spot is more than I can guess—unless they are going to shoot us down like dogs and leave us for the wolves to feed on. The wolves are thick around here, so Leeson told me."
"I don't believe they'll shoot us down. They are not desperate enough yet. But they may do it, if they attack the fort and lose heavily. That will open their eyes, and make them as mad as hornets."
A little later Silver Gulch, a wide opening in the rocks of the mountain, was gained, and here the soldiers were again made fast to several trees. Then the Indians prepared their midday meal. They took their time about eating, and did not offer the white men anything until they had finished.
"They don't intend to treat us any too good," was Peck's comment. "Captain, can't we fix it to get away?"
"I intend to escape if I can manage it," returned the young officer. "But we must be careful, for they are fully armed, and they watch us like so many foxes."
Slowly the afternoon wore away, and with the coming of night it grew darker than usual, as though a storm was brewing.
"A storm ought to help us," said the captain.
Some of the Indians had departed, so that now the guard consisted of but four warriors. These red men walked around each prisoner, seeing to it that all the bonds were tight.
As the men passed Peck the old soldier watched his chance, and, unknown to the red men, caught a hunting-knife from the belt of one of the number.
This knife was concealed up his sleeve, and then the soldier waited for his chance to use the blade, which was as sharp as a razor.
The Indians decided that two of their number should sleep, while the other two remained on guard. Soon those to retire turned in, while the others sat down to smoke their pipes.
This was Peck's opportunity, and with a slash of the hunting-knife he released his hands. A moment later the lariat around his ankles was likewise severed.
Watching his chance, Peck passed the knife to Captain Moore, and then went back to his position by the tree as if still fastened.
Thus the knife was passed from soldier to soldier until all were liberated.
All told, the party numbered six, and nobody was armed, excepting Peck, to whom the hunting-knife had been returned.
Motioning to the others to keep quiet, Captain Moore picked up a stick of wood lying near and threw it in some bushes a distance away.
This made considerable noise, and instantly the two guards gazed in the direction.
"A wolf, perhaps," said one of the Indians, in his native tongue, and walked over to the bushes. His companion started to follow, when Captain Moore leaped upon him and bore him to the earth.
As Captain Moore fell upon one of the Indians, Peck the private stole after the guard who had walked toward the bushes. The other soldiers jumped to where the remaining Indians were sleeping, to gain possession of the firearms.
The Indian the captain had tackled was a young but powerful brave, and he put up a hard fight to release himself. But he had been taken unawares, and after he was on the ground the captain saw to it that he did not get up.
In the meantime the Indian near the bushes turned just in time to see Peck raise the hunting-knife. Crack! went the red man's rifle, and the bullet clipped the soldier's ear. The shot was so close that to the day of his death Peck carried in his face some traces of the burnt powder.
The shot was the last the Indian ever fired, for in the midst of the smoke Peck hurled himself at the warrior, and a second later down came the hunting-knife, piercing the red man's back and entering his right lung. The stroke was a fatal one, and before the fighting in the glade came to an end the Indian had breathed his last.
When the sleeping Indians awoke they could not for the moment realize what was going on. In his bewilderment one leaped up and rushed at a soldier, who promptly laid him low by a heavy blow from a rifle stock, which almost cracked the warrior's skull. Seeing this, the other brave became frightened and ran for the bushes.
"Don't let him escape!" cried Captain Moore, who was still holding his man down.
At once two of the soldiers ran after the fleeing Indian, and presently two rifle shots rang out, followed by a scream from the red man.
"He's done for," said one of the soldiers, after the smoke had cleared away. "He has gone to his happy hunting-ground."
After this turn of affairs it did not take the soldiers long to make prisoners of the two Indians who remained alive. These fellows were in truth much frightened, but tried their best to suppress their feelings.
From one of the Indians, Captain Moore learned that more Indians were expected early the next morning.
"That's all right," said he. "They will come in time to release you and save you from starvation."
"Going to tie 'em up, captain?" asked Peck.
"Yes. There is nothing else to do."
"Better shoot 'em."
"I can't shoot them in cold blood, Peck. That would not be human."
"The wretches don't deserve to live, captain. The Indians and those desperadoes are plotting to wipe out everybody left at the fort."
"I know that. Still, I cannot bring myself to take their lives—and we can't stop to take them along as prisoners. The sooner we get back to the fort the better."
"If we can get back," put in another soldier.
"I don't believe the fort is surrounded just yet," returned the young officer.
"But if it is?"
"Then, perhaps, it will be better for us to be out than in."
"You wouldn't desert the crowd at the fort, would you?"
"You know me better than that, Gorman. We might be able to ride to the next fort and obtain re-enforcements."
"That's so, captain! I didn't think of that."
Leaving the dead Indians in the bushes and the others tied to the trees, the captain and his companions now lost no time in striking out for the fort.
Fortunately, Peck was well acquainted with every foot of the territory to be covered, and he led the way by a route which was fairly easy and as direct as could be expected, considering the wild region to be covered.
As he hurried along, the young captain's thoughts were busy. Where were Joe, Darry, and Benson, and how were things going at the fort?
"The Indians are not so much to be blamed as the desperadoes," he said. "They have some wrongs, although they are more fancied than real. But the desperadoes ought all to be either shot down or placed under arrest."
"Right you are," returned Gorman. "This district will never prosper until the desperadoes are cleaned out."
It was not long before the party began to grow hungry, and they had to halt for an hour, to prepare some birds which one of the number had brought down with a gun.
All the time they were eating, one of the soldiers remained on guard, for they were fearful a band of Indians might come up unawares to surprise them. But not a red man or desperado showed himself.
Nightfall found them still sixteen miles from the fort, and unable to walk further.
"We will camp out where we are," said Captain Moore. "It is useless to think of covering the distance in the dark. Besides, we might fall into some trap."
A storm had been threatening, but now the clouds passed and the night proved clear and pleasant. It was decided that two men should remain on guard at a time, each taking a turn of three hours.
The young captain slept from nine o'clock until three in the morning. Then he awoke with the feeling that further sleep was out of the question. Getting up, he walked to a nearby brook, intending to wash up and obtain a needed drink.
While Captain Moore was in the vicinity of the brook something stirring in the bushes attracted his attention.
"Carwell, did you see that?" he asked, of the guard who was nearest to him.
"See what, captain?"
"That thing in yonder bushes."
"I see nothing, sir."
"Something is moving there. Come here and look."
The private did as commanded, and both gazed steadily into the bushes.
"By Jove!" exclaimed the young officer at length, "Do you see what it is now, Carwell?"
"I do not, captain."
"It's a panther, unless I am greatly mistaken."
"Where?"
"Lying on the fallen tree, behind that tall bush," and Captain Moore pointed with his hand.
As he did this the panther arose suddenly, then crouched down as if to make a leap at them.
"Shoot!" ordered the captain, and as quickly as the private could raise his rifle he fired. But his aim was poor, and the bullet flew a foot over the panther's head.
"Missed, hang the luck!" muttered Carwell.
Scarcely had the words left his lips, when the panther made a fierce leap and landed directly at the feet of the astonished pair. The beast was evidently very hungry, or it would not have attacked human beings in this semi-light of the early dawn.
Full of fear, Carwell staggered back, with his smoking rifle still in his hand.
The panther growled and switched its tail from side to side. The rifle shot had filled it with wonder, and it did not know what to do next.
"Be careful—he is going to take another leap!" cried the young captain.
He was right; the panther was now preparing for another spring. Before Carwell could get out of the way, the beast came on, pinning the private to the earth.
As Carwell went down the whole camp roused up, and the second guard came up on the double quick.
"What's up, captain?" he sang out.
"Shoot the panther!" answered the young officer. "Quick, or you'll be too late. Don't hit Carwell."
Crack! the rifle spoke up, and the beast was hit fairly and squarely in the side. At this it let out a blood-curdling scream of pain. It had caught Carwell by the arm, but now it released its hold.
"A panther!" roared one of the old soldiers. "And a big one. Git your guns, boys! He aint no beast to fool with, I can tell you that!"
Those who had guns ran for them. But in the meantime the panther turned around, as if to retreat.
Then, of a sudden, it seemed to catch sight of Captain Moore, and with a snarl of rage it threw itself upon the young officer, and both went over with a loud splash into the brook.
Up to the time the panther had turned upon him, the young officer had thought but little of his own safety, being concerned chiefly about Carwell, who was flat on his back, and who looked as if he as going to be chewed up by this wild, lean, and hungry beast of the forest.
But now Captain Moore found himself attacked, and as he went over into the brook he realized that he was in the most perilous position he had yet encountered. Facing Indians and desperadoes was nothing compared to facing this beast, that seemed bent upon his destruction.
The spot where the young officer struck the brook was five or six feet deep, and as the panther came down on top of him he went straight to the bottom.
The beast was also submerged, but not for long. Panthers, although they can swim, do not like the water, and this one lost no time in coming to the surface to get air. Then it let out another scream of pain, while the bullet wound in its side dyed the brook red.
As the panther came up the young captain tried to do the same. But the first thing he encountered was the beast's fierce claws, and he received a deep and painful scratch in his left shoulder. Then he went down again, and tried to come up further down the stream. But unfortunately the panther moved in the same direction.
In the meantime the other soldiers came up to the edge of the brook. They realized their captain's peril, and as soon as the panther showed itself two of them blazed away, one hitting the beast in the back and the other landing a bullet in the panther's neck.
The fury of the animal was now intense, and whirling around it lashed the water of the brook into a perfect foam. Then it leaped for the opposite shore, and made a break for the underbrush. Before anybody could fire again it was gone.
When Captain Moore regained the surface of the brook willing hands helped him out.
"Hurt?" questioned Peck anxiously.
"A little—on the shoulder," was the answer, with a gasp. "Where is the beast?"
"Got away in yonder bushes, sir. That's a nasty dig. You had better let me bind it up."
"Carwell, how are you?"
"The beast nipped me in the arm," answered the private, trying to suppress a groan. "By George, but he was an ugly one!"
"That's right," put in another soldier. "You can be thankful you wasn't chewed up."
A brief search revealed the fact that the panther had left the vicinity, and then the others set to work to bind up the wounds the captain and Carwell had sustained.
"We had better move on now," said the young officer, when the hurts had been attended to. "If there are Indians or desperadoes around they must certainly have heard those shots, and they will be wondering what they mean."
They marched on in the gloom, and did not halt until the sun was showing itself over the hills to the eastward. They had now gained a rise of ground from which with a field-glass the fort might have been seen. But the young captain's glass was gone—confiscated, as already told, by those who had first attacked him.
"We will draw closer with caution," said the young officer. "We don't want to walk into any trap."
Less than a mile was covered, when Peck, who had been sent out in advance, came back and called for silence.
"Some Indians are ahead," he said.
"How many of them?" questioned Captain Moore.
"Not less than a dozen or fifteen, captain. I counted eleven, and heard some talking that I couldn't see."
"Where are they?"
"Down behind where the brook flows over those sawtooth rocks. We were out there fishing last summer."
"I know the spot you mean. What are the redskins doing?"
"Nothing in particular. I overheard one say to another that he expected White Ox along before sundown."
"They must be an advance guard of the tribe, then," returned the young officer thoughtfully. "Did any of them see you?"
"I don't think they did."
But in this Peck was mistaken, for scarcely had the soldiers started to walk around the spot where the Indians were encamped, when a savage war-whoop rang out, followed by half a dozen shots.
The first round was a deadly one, killing two of the men and wounding Peck in the side. A bullet likewise grazed Captain Moore's shoulder.
"To cover!" shouted the young officer, as soon as he could speak. "The Indians are on us!"
He had a gun in his hand, and as he gave the command he leveled it at the leader of the party, he who had killed one of the soldiers. Captain Moore's aim was true, and the Indian fell lifeless over the very body of the man he had slain.
By this time the other Indians were coming up, and all the soldiers could do was to take to the nearest cover, as the captain had ordered. The warwhoops continued, and shots were fired from several directions.
Scarcely knowing whether he was hit or not, Captain Moore dashed into the midst of some brushwood, and not far away from him came Peck. The latter had broken his rifle over the head of one of the red men, and now advanced with the hunting-knife which was still in his possession. The young captain held a rifle, but just now had no time in which to reload the weapon.
"They are after us hot-like!" cried Peck, after several hundred feet had been covered.
The private's breath came short and sharp, and now for the first Captain Moore saw how he was suffering.
"You are wounded, Peck."
"That's right, captain."
"You can't run any more."
"I've got to run," muttered Peck, between his set teeth. "They'll be on—oh!—on us in another minute."
"Give me your arm—I'll help you along."
The private held out his hand, then gave a pitch, and, before the young officer could catch him, sank on the grass insensible.
Captain Moore's heart leaped into his throat, for he had known Peck for years, and the two were very friendly. He listened, and heard a distant shot. Evidently the Indians were not yet coming in that direction. They would first hunt down the others, providing they were not already slain.
Bending down, the young officer took Peck in his strong arms and threw the private over his shoulder. The weight was considerable, and made him stagger.
"I've got to carry him, somehow!" he muttered. "Heaven give me strength to do it!"
The brushwood was thick ahead, but there was a sort of trail, made by wild animals, and he pursued this until he came to a brook. Then to keep the Indians from following them, should they come in that direction, he followed the brook for a hundred yards or more. At last he reached a point where the banks of the brook were rocky, and here he came out, and crawled over the rocks. Not far off was an opening between two large bowlders, and here he sank down, too exhausted to take another step.
It was half an hour before Peck came to his senses. In the meantime the captain had obtained some water, washed the private's wound and bound it up in bandages torn from his shirt. The loss of blood had made Peck light-headed.
"Keep them off!" he murmured. "Keep them off! They want to bore a hole in my side. Keep them off!"
"Be quiet, Peck, you are safe," answered the young captain soothingly. "You've been wounded, that's the trouble," but the private continued to rave for some time, when he relaxed into a stupor.
With strained ears Captain Moore waited for the appearance of friends or enemies, but nobody came up the brook. Once he heard two shots far to the northward, but whether fired by the soldiers or the Indians he could not tell.
"I'm afraid it's been a regular slaughter," he mused sadly. "And our getting away was a miracle," and this surmise proved correct, for, as was afterward proven, all the others of the party were slain within an hour after the surprise occurred.