"That's right," answered Ben. "What's the matter with chasing them?" He spoke with the authority of the hunter. Possessing the rifle, noopportunity to exploit it was ever allowed to slip; nor, if the truth be told, was John slow in calling attention to his saddle, spurs, and fringed leather chaps.
"All right," said John. "We've never been on an antelope hunt alone."
The boys went off at right angles from the direction they had been taking and rode down a shallow ravine or coulie in order to keep out of sight of the game. They rode slowly along till they reached the end of the depression; here they dismounted and each tied the forelegs of his horse with the rope he carried on his saddle-horn: they were not going to travel afoot again if they could help it. It was now necessary to cross the open prairie in plain view of the animals they sought. Advantage was taken of a well-known characteristic of antelopes—their curiosity. John pulled the handkerchief from his neck and began to wave it slowly to and fro over his head as he walked. Ben followed in his brother's tracks, making himself as inconspicuous as possible and fingering the lock of his repeater to be sure that it was in good working order.
The boys drew nearer and nearer, and the flagging was kept up persistently; but it did not seem to have any effect, for the animals were all looking the other way. Still they drew nearer; their eyes were fixed on their quarry, the rifle held ready, every nerve tense, each heart beating furiously with excitement.
ROPING AN UNBROKEN HORSE.
Then it was seen that the antelopes were attracted by the white tops of the wagons, which were moving slowly along over the plain. The wagon train was "flagging" them. Now if the hunters could get within range before the spell of curiosity had been satisfied, all would be well.
The boys moved cautiously along till they came to a sunken "buffalo wallow," a muddy place frequented by the bison for the sake of the moisture. This afforded the shelter that was needed. Attracted by the flapping canvas wagon-tops, the unsuspecting animals drew slowly near the hiding place.
"Oh! if they would only come just a little closer," said Ben under his breath, "I'd have them sure."
Once they stopped and sniffed the air, but just as Ben was about to chance a long-distance shot, they moved on again.
"Now, Ben!" said John, excitedly.
For an instant the stock of the rifle rested closely against the boy's cheek—then the shot rang out. Almost simultaneously the biggest of the herd leaped into the air, then fell flat to the ground. The others stood still, bewildered.
"Good! Now for another one," whispered John. Again the rifle was raised and again its deadly crack sounded forth. Another antelope bounded up, ran frantically a few yards, and dropped. At this the rest of the herd made off like the wind, and in a few minutes were mere specks on the horizon.
"Well, I must say," said Ben, exultingly, "I thought once that I would rather have your saddle and outfit, but now—" he slapped the stock of his rifle affectionately—"I wouldn't swap if you gave me Baldy to boot."
"Baldy to boot, eh? Why, I wouldn't swap that horse for a whole stack of rifles." And John moved off in indignation to get the horses, while Ben went over to the spot where the game lay.
The carcasses were packed on Ben's horse, both boys mounting Baldy. They were welcomed heartily at the camp, for fresh meat was at a premium, and any change of diet was an event of prime importance.
"That gun of yours must be chained lightning," said Ted. "I didn't suppose you could hit the side of a hill at fifty yards."
Many days of travelling followed over country that had apparently never been covered by a wagon before.
During this long journey the boys came to know the men of the party very well. They were apt to be sharply divided into good and bad, for in those rough times people showed their real characters without reserve.
Charley Green still continued with the company, and he was the boys' greatest friend; but Tom Malloy, who joined the expedition just before it started out for the new camp, soon got into John's good graces. He was a man of varied talents: a gambler and saloon keeper when times were good; a miner, cow-puncher, or hunter when his money ran out. Rough, quick-tempered, and as ready with his fists as with his "gun," he was nevertheless possessed of a great heart and a loyalty to his friends that nothing could shake. Like many of his race he loved a fight and delighted to have a lively "argument" with a man. John's boldness and aggressiveness pleased him greatly, and he looked the boy over, enumerating his good points over to himself: his broad chest, sturdy legs and arms, his clear eyes and fearless look all showed to Malloy's experienced eye that he would make a first-rate boxer.
"I'll show that youngster how to put up his hands sure," he said to himself.
It was a tiresome journey, long and monotonous, but enlivened now and then by a hunt oran excursion. The train was to go by way of the Hart River road, and it seemed to the younger members of the expedition as if it would never be reached. But find it at last they did, a few wagon ruts not very clear nor strongly marked.
The boys' task was now much easier, for the way was marked plainly before them and it was comparatively smooth travelling. Many wide excursions were made on either side of the trail, and many hunting expeditions were indulged in. Ben became a very good shot, and the constant supply of fresh meat gave evidence of his skill.
After many days' journey the "Bad Lands" were reached. That desolate country, scarred and pitted, was void of vegetation except on the bottoms and near the infrequent water courses. Here the wagon road disappeared altogether, and the pioneers found it necessary in many cases practically to build one, to level some places and make inclines down steep banks at others. Often all the teams had to be hitched to one wagon in order to drag it up a sharp ascent or through a miry place.
In many spots the ground was very treacherous, especially at the edge of a cut. The soil was loose, pliable stuff, liable to give way under the weight of a horse. Badger and gopher holesadded to the danger by undermining the banks in unexpected places.
One morning John was sent out on Baldy (his constant companion and faithful friend) to pick out, if possible, an easier way. Boy and horse started out on a smart trot, each having full confidence in the other—as was necessary, for almost as much depended on the sagacity of the steed in the matter of picking a way on dangerous ground as in the intelligence of the rider. It was a task of considerable responsibility that was put on John's shoulders; the route was difficult enough to puzzle a professional civil engineer. Baldy was left to find his own way while his rider looked ahead to choose a road that could be travelled by the wagons. From time to time it became necessary to go down the almost perpendicular side of a coulie, when the horse would hunch his hind-legs, keeping his forelegs stiff and stretched out to their fullest extent. Then he would fairly slide down on his tail.
John had found a place that he thought suitable for the night's camp, had traced out a way by which it might be reached, and had turned his pony back towards the wagons.
He thought to himself, as they slid down one bank and scrambled up the other, that it would be a bad place to be thrown. The surface waspitted with half-concealed badger holes, and in the bottoms were many spots where a horse might easily be mired. Baldy, however, knew his business and carried his rider over awkward places safely. John was congratulating himself on the successful conclusion of his errand when he came to the bank of what was in the early spring a roaring torrent, but which now lacked even a trickle of water. To the edge of this cut Baldy approached cautiously. John, anxious to get back to the wagons and report, urged him on. With a shake of his head that seemed to say: "Well, you are the boss, so here goes; but I don't like the looks of it," the pony went forward, gathering his hind legs under him to make his usual slide—when the ground beneath him gave way. Horse and rider went rolling down the slope, but as John felt himself falling he loosened his foot from the stirrup and leaped off, just in time. Boy and steed arrived at the bottom about the same time, but separately. John's mouth, eyes, nose, and ears were full of dirt and dried grass; in fact, he always declared that he ate his proverbial peck of dirt then, all at once; but he soon discovered that, barring a few bruises and a badly hurt pride, he was all right. As soon as he got the dust out of his eyes and realized that the earth had not risen, out of special spite against him, he looked for his horse, and was much relieved to find that his four-footed partner had received nothing more than a bad shaking up. Baldy's attitude, however, was anything but dignified. His feet were waving in air, his head was buried in the loose soil, his body was so covered with mother earth that he seemed like some strange freak of nature. As the boy got up, the horse looked at him, he thought, reproachfully and seemed to say: "I told you so."
"CROW HAT'S FACING THIS WAY." (Page 117.)
THE INDIAN CAMP. (Page 116.)
"Yes, old chap," replied John aloud, "you do know a thing or two, and I'll trust you more next time."
John never told of his mistake and tumble, but explained the dusty appearance of himself and horse by reference to the well-known characteristic of the "Bad Lands," its stifling alkali dust.
Many weeks were spent in the migration, and it became exceedingly monotonous and tiresome before their destination was at last sighted. When, one beautiful afternoon, Mr. Worth pointed ahead to a rolling knoll covered with trees and announced that there was their future home, John and Ben set up a wild cheer and dashed ahead to examine the spot. Camp was pitched on the banks of the Yellowstone, and dug-outs were made—the cave part first and then the outer portion of substantial logs. Two large cabins were constructed for the family's dwelling and kitchen, and several more for the men, of whom there were many, this being an important mine.
No time was lost in settling, and in an incredibly short while the household belongings were in place, the provisions stowed away safely, and the regular camp routine begun. It was necessary to get a considerable portion of the tunnel drivenbefore frost came. The opening was made horizontally into the side of the hill and continued in a straight line until the vein of coal was struck, when the tunnel had to follow it in whatever direction it went.
The boys were to be initiated into real miner's work at this camp. They were well grown, strong lads, fully able to do their share. During the preliminary digging of the drift they did little beyond their regular chores, except to drive the teams that carted away the earth from the mouth of the cave.
The important duty of supplying the camp with fresh meat was also entrusted to them, and it was not long before every haunt of furred and feathered thing that lived within a radius of miles around was known to them.
Within a few weeks after the establishment of the camp all preliminary work had been completed and the mine was ready for business. To facilitate the delivery of coal to daylight, a rough railroad had been built; its tracks were of wood, its rolling stock one small, four-wheeled box car, its motive power, Jerry the mule. Of this underground railway John was installed as president, board of directors, general manager, inspector general, passenger and freight agent, chief engineer, and superintendent of motive power. Oneday he was engaged in his many brain-taxing duties, the most trying of which was keeping the motive power "moting." The flaring lamp in his hat showed but little of the mule's tough hide, but that little the superintendent belabored lustily. The little car rumbled and bumped along the rough wooden rails on its way to one of the rooms where the coal was being dug. John whistled cheerily to himself and occasionally interrupted the melody to shout into the mule's wagging ears: "Git up, Jerry!" Soon a point of yellow light appeared far off in the darkness, and as the lumbering car went on it grew in size and strength until its nature could be made out distinctly.
"Hello, Ben," shouted the young driver to his brother, whose cap-light had showed so clearly up the tunnel. "You'd better oil the hinges of that door; they squeak like a hungry rat."
The mule had stopped before a great door which blocked the way; it was so placed as to change the ventilating current of air, and it was Ben's duty to open and close it after each loaded or empty car. He sat in a little recess of the wall and pulled the door open and shut with the aid of a rope.
"It's mighty lonesome here," said he. "Seems as if I couldn't stand it sometimes, so I broughtalong the 'Arabian Nights' to-day. Been reading about Aladdin; he was underground, too, but all he had to do was to rub a lamp and he just wallowed in pearls, diamonds, and things, while I sit here all day for half a dollar, and do nothing but open and shut this door for you and your old mule."
"Yes, I know all about him," answered John, as he drove through the doorway.
"'Tisn't true, any way," shouted Ben after him. "Couldn't be. Aladdin was a Chinaman, and no Chink ever made even a dollar a day."
"Guess you're right, but don't get lonesome," the voice came echoing back through the darkness, mingled with the rumble of the car and the sharp slap of the stick on poor Jerry's flank.
For a month or more John continued to drive the mule and Ben tended the door. It was late one afternoon, and the younger boy was feeling very tired of living away from the sun and the bright fresh air; the darkness and dankness oppressed him not a little, so he was glad to hear John's strong voice singing:
"Down in the coal mine,Underneath the ground,Digging dusky diamondsAll the year around."
"Down in the coal mine,Underneath the ground,Digging dusky diamondsAll the year around."
"I'd sing too if I was getting a dollar 'stead of a half, and had a chance to see daylight once in a while," grumbled Ben as his brother stopped to talk a bit.
"Hold on a while and don't get excited," counselled the elder. "I'm going to be promoted, and what's the matter with you moving up too?"
"Why? How?" inquired the discontented one eagerly.
"I'm going to be a regular miner; going to work with Bill Cooper, best miner out, father says."
"Then I'll drive Jerry and gather in the dollar," cried Ben. "But who'll tend door?"
For a minute the boy's face showed his disappointment; then he smiled again as the thought came of a way out of the difficulty. A friendly Indian camp was located across the river, and the boys, white and red, often came together for all sorts of sports.
"Why not get 'Coyote-on-a-hill' to work the door while I run the car?" said Ben exultingly. "He'd be scared to death at first, but I'll tell him about the fifty cents a day and that will brace his nerve."
And so it turned out. The Indian boy took Ben's place, while John turned over Jerry to his brother and cast in his fortunes with Bill Cooper.
"Coyote-on-a-hill" was pretty badly scared the first day, but Ben gave him a word of encouragement whenever he went by, and never failed to remind him of the money he was making, so he stuck it out like a man, and presently got quite used to the dreary darkness.
Both of the Worth boys expressed themselves as pleased with the change; what Jerry thought of it he never remarked.
John found his new work anything but easy. Bill Cooper was a fearless miner and a hard worker, and his assistant had all he could do to keep up with the task set for him. It was necessary first to cut under the mass of coal that was to be dislodged; to do this John had to lie on his side and so swing his pick in a cramped position. To make the vertical cut was not much easier, for he found it hard to work squeezed in between the walls of coal as the crevice deepened. The bottom and side cuts made, he bored holes (round holes with a flat drill, the knack of which he acquired only after long practice and a choice collection of smashed fingers) and then tamped in the paper cartridge of powder. When the fuse was in place, all that was needed to complete the work was a light from his lamp. The former was plain, straightforward hard work, the latter sport. The fuse lay like a snake just sliding intoits hole, the place was quiet as death and as dark as a tomb, except where the flickering glare of the young miner's lamp shone; his face was covered with coal dust, through which his eyes peered with unnatural prominence.
He would take the lamp from his cap, stoop down and touch the bare flame to the end of the snake fuse; it would immediately begin to sputter sparks, and as John drew back for safety he could watch it eat its way towards the black wall and the powder within it. The red sparks drew nearer and nearer the hole, then, after a spiteful little shower, disappeared. It seemed a long time to the miner waiting behind his protecting shield before the rending, shaking report sounded, followed by the glare of the explosion and the rattle of the falling coal. Then Ben soon turned up with Jerry, and both boys shovelled the loose coal of varying-sized lumps into the car.
Bill Cooper, though insisting that John must do his share, generally took the hardest and most dangerous places himself; so it came about one day that the boy worked at the vertical cut while his partner cut under, propping up the mass of coal (with wooden logs cut for the purpose) as he went in deeper.
The work was hard, and neither man nor boy spent any breath in talking. The dull ring ofthe pick was the only sound. Deeper and deeper grew the crevice; soon only John's foot was visible and Cooper had disappeared entirely under the overhanging ledge of coal; only the faint glowing of the light and the sound of the tools betrayed the workmen. It was dirty, tiring, dangerous work. At any moment that great mass of mineral might fall if the supports were not properly placed or the king-brace happened to be lodged in a soft spot.
"Come out if you want to save your skin, Bill," cried John suddenly. "I hear it popping and working all around, and it's beginning to move."
"In a minute. Wait till I dig out this far corner." His voice seemed to come from the bowels of the earth and had such an uncanny sound that John shivered.
"Hurry! Never mind the corner—it's going to fall. Come out, quick!" John's voice had such a note of fear and entreaty in it that the man below was impressed.
"All right," he said, "I'll come right along."
The boy stopped working and listened. There was a peculiar sliding sound that filled the air all about him, and from time to time a stone dropped to the floor with an echoing rattle.
"Come out." With an appalling roar thegreat mass of coal came down. John was badly squeezed, his light was extinguished, and all the breath was knocked out of him, but he managed to work himself free and make his way to the room. His only thought was of Bill, under that heap of coal somewhere, and of the need of help.
He rushed along blindly through the solid darkness, his hands outstretched before him, shouting as he went, "Help, quick!"
Some men who were working in the entry answered him.
"What's up?" they asked.
"Help! Bill lies under a whole lot of coal."
They hurried to the coal face, and John showed them where he thought the imprisoned man lay, buried under tons of coal; the men, seizing picks, wedges, and sledges, began working frantically to rescue their comrade.
For half an hour they toiled as they never toiled before. Then there was a cry of horror. The body was found. The poor fellow's arms were raised in the very act of swinging his pick, and he evidently had had an instant and well-nigh painless death.
"Well, boys, I hope mine comes as easy as his," said old Mike McGuire, who had witnessed many a similar scene.
They took up the body gently and tenderly laid it in the car, the mule was unhitched, and the miners pushed it slowly to the open air, the whole force following.
On Sunday Bill's sorrowing comrades buried him. Mr. Worth read a few verses from the camp's only Bible, offered a short prayer, and the simple ceremony was over.
Of Bill Cooper, like many of the men of that time, little was known, and if any one should question as to his origin he would probably be answered with, "Came from the East, I guess." He had made many friends, but none felt his tragic death more than his young partner.
After this the work became irksome. John did not get along so well with his new partner, and often when he stopped to rest the sight came before his eyes of his dead friend as he lay under the black shroud of coal. Nevertheless, he toiled away faithfully, and seemed in a fair way of becoming an expert coal miner.
It was now well towards midwinter, and the boys began to long after some skating on the clear ice which had for some time covered the river completely. Alec was a handy blacksmith, and at their entreaties he set to work and fashioned them two pairs of rough but very serviceable skates. Since skating on the ice was somethingthe boys had never learned, they had to get Yumping Yim, the Swede, to teach them how to use these new acquisitions. Though they were rude affairs, the boys, whose muscles were developed by snowshoeing, soon managed to make good headway on the river. In a sharp spin down the glassy surface after the day's work was over they could forget that their backs ached and their arms were heavy as lead. The brisk wind and change of exercise was like a tonic to them, and though the air-holes in the ice made night skating rather dangerous, it only added zest to their enjoyment.
As the boys skimmed past the Indian camp, which was a large one, they sometimes found a whole delegation of young savages out to watch their progress. The Indians had never seen skates before, and their wonder and interest were great. This camp, in turn, greatly interested the white boys; as they lay in bed they could hear thebum-bum-bum-bumof the medicine man's tom-tom come booming monotonously over the river. This sound continued so everlastingly every night that the boys' curiosity was aroused and they determined to see what the medicine man did besides making such a row.
After dark one night, they stole out and over to the red men's lodges, traced the boomingnoise, and finally, after great care and much dodging—for the Indian will not tolerate any spying on or interference with what he considers sacred—they reached the tepee from which the sound came; then they crept round to the opening flap and John cautiously thrust his head in, but quickly withdrew it.
"What's the matter?" whispered Ben.
"Old Crow Hat's facing this way. I was afraid he'd see us," John answered. "Let's look under this side."
Suiting the action to the word, the boys lifted the side of the tent-like lodge and gazed at the old medicine man. He was seated before the fire, his tom-tom between his knees, his head bowed low, and his long hair hanging over his face (an uncommon condition, for the red men generally keep their hair most neatly parted). Crow Hat swayed to and fro in time with the slow beating of his drum, and as he swung he chanted, "Eeyuh! Eeyuh! Eeyuh!" raising and lowering his voice as the tom-tom was beaten loudly or softly. Long the boys watched him, fascinated by the weird sound. Suddenly he began to thump his drum furiously and his voice rose from a low half-grunt to a shriek. The "Eeyuh! Eeyuh!" was now like the wail of a fierce wind.
This was too much for the boys' strained nerves. They backed away hurriedly and made for home, and it was some time before the sound of that last frenzied cry died out of their ears.
Bill Cooper's end had a great effect on John, and he was glad of the first opportunity to get out of the black hole and into the open air. Indeed, both boys welcomed the work of cutting and hauling props for the mine, which fell to them soon after their night visit to the Indians.
The elder was busily working unloading props at the mine entrance one day when Ben came down to him excitedly: "Say, John," he cried, "a squaw just came down from the big flat and she says she saw some buffalo over beyond the camp. The Indians over the creek are saddling up to go for them. Can't we go?"
"I don't know," said John, excited in turn. "You'll have to ask father. Go on up and see him while I finish this job."
The youngster went off on the run, and in a moment returned. One look at his face was sufficient to show John that he had the desired permission.
The mules were unhitched and turned out for the day. Baldy and Ben's horse were quickly saddled, rifles, belts, and cartridges were slung on, and in a twinkling the two young hunters were off after the biggest game the country afforded.
THE BIGGEST GAME THE COUNTRY AFFORDED. (Page 119.)
A SQUAW . . . JUST SAW SOME BUFFALO. (Page 118.)
When they got to the camp they found that most of the bucks had already started, but old "Wolf Voice," a minor chief with whom the boys had made friends, still remained.
"There's Wolf Voice; he'll let us go with him," said John. "Hello, can we go with you?" he shouted to the old man.
"You got good horse? Me go quick," grunted the brave.
"I guess we'll keep up," and Baldy danced as if to show his mettle. In a few minutes they were on their way up the slope to the plateau which surrounded the camping place. Baldy kept up easily with the Indian's pony and Wolf Voice turned after they had covered a mile at a round pace. "Heap good horse," said he.
"Yes," replied John. "He can beat anything around here in a half-mile run. Want to try now?"
The temptation was great, for the pony the chief rode was his best, but the thought of the chase restrained him. "Plenty ride soon," he said.
The level reached, the boys found that the great shaggy beasts were already surrounded, so they took a place in the circle and waited impatiently for a chance at the game.
With a yell the Indians rode towards the dazed animals, who now separated and began to run frantically in all directions. The party of hunters, of whom there were about twenty-five, also split up into little groups, and each party chased a buffalo. One of the animals came towards the boys.
"Get out of his way," yelled John to his brother, "and let him pass between us. Then fire as he goes."
The great lumbering beast came nearer and nearer, and as they watched, ready to spring away in case he should charge them, they noticed that he was being followed far off by an Indian.
"Now shoot," shouted John, as the quarry rushed by. Both rifles rang out, but the buffalo passed on without showing a sign of being hit. Immediately Ben's horse bolted with him, but Baldy stood his ground till his rider urged him after the fleeing game. John held his rifle ready to make a safe shot when opportunity offered. The horse was now gaining rapidly, but hearing the thump of hoofs behind him and then an Indian yelling, he turned his head and saw that Big Hawk, a young brave, was shouting something. He could not hear what it was, however, and paid no attention.
The race continued, and John's whole thoughtwas to get in a good shot.Zip! it was the unmistakable sound of a bullet, and as the boy turned to see from whence it came,zip! another bullet went humming by: the Indian was firing from behind, and the shots were coming unpleasantly close. John drew Baldy to one side just in time to get out of the pathway of another leaden pellet.
This last shot caught the buffalo in the leg, and he lunged forward on his massive head. Big Hawk then rode up and riddled him with bullets.
John was angry clear through.
"The coward," he muttered. "Might have hit me—'twasn't his fault he didn't either. Anybody could do up a buffalo from behind. 'Fraid I'd get him, I guess. See that?" He added as Ben came up.
Ben was indignant too, and both boys went up to where the young buck was skinning the scarcely dead beast, determined to have their share. The Indian protested against sharing the game, but Wolf Voice happened to come up at this moment, and, with the authority of a chief, soon settled the dispute by giving the boys a fine hind quarter. This they lashed securely with a lariat on Ben's horse. Then both rode off triumphantly on Baldy.
"Boys, you'll have to go and hunt those spare mules to-morrow; they haven't been seen for a week." Thus Mr. Worth greeted the boys as they came shuffling in after a long day of mingled work and play one evening not long after the buffalo hunt.
The following morning the youngsters mounted their horses, after completing their early chores, and started out. "Where shall we go?" asked Ben.
"Let's look among the Indians' ponies; those mules are always following their cayuses around." The plan was no sooner made than executed. They trotted along the edge of the river for several miles, the crisp morning air acting like a tonic on horse and rider. Baldy was too old and dignified to be foolish, but his springy stride, wide-awake look, and quick response to each word of urging betokened his good conditionand enjoyment. Ben's horse, a little bunchy cow pony with an occasional wicked streak in him, danced about as if he were worked by electricity and the current was being turned on and off.
The ford reached, the ponies waded in till the boys had to cross their legs in front of the saddles to keep from getting wet.
On the other side they found a bunch of a couple of hundred horses, and as they drew near the herders came charging down on them. They feared horse thieves, but John explained matters, and after a long sign-language talk learned that there were six of the long-eared runaways tied at the camp. They had been put there for safe keeping, since they had been killing colts and were in danger of being roughly used by the horses in consequence. A grown "pony," though generally smaller, will drive out a mule in short order, and these plucky little animals are never afraid to tackle their vicious antagonists.
The boys went back on the opposite side of the river from which they had come until the camp was reached.
They found the Indian village all agog with excitement, and for a time could not get any of the braves to answer their inquiries about the missing mules. A horse race was to be held, andthe usually stoical bucks could for the time being think of nothing else.
The whereabouts of the missing animals was learned before long, however, and an Indian went with them to see that they really belonged to the Worth outfit. On their way they had to pass straight through the village of several hundred tepees, and many were the greetings of "How!" that were shouted to them.
On the outskirts of the camp many braves were standing around, making bets, grooming their horses, and comparing notes. Little redskins darted everywhere in and out between their elders' legs and shouted shrilly to each other. The boys found it hard to go on to attend to their errand, and though neither said anything for a while, they looked appealingly at each other. "If we find the mules belong to us," said John, finally, in answer to Ben's questioning look, "we'll take 'em part way back, tie 'em, and then come here and see the races." So they went on reluctantly, leaving the gesticulating, grunting crowd behind them.
The captive animals were, as they hoped, the ones they had been seeking, and if the guide had any doubts of their ownership the big W branded on the shoulder of each beast soon dispelled them. "Lucky there's a fort near by,"said John. "We'd never have seen those critters again if there hadn't been." The mules were driven back to a point convenient of access on the trip back to the mine and tied securely. Then both boys rushed over to the course as fast as their ponies could go.
Nothing had changed; the men still talked excitedly, and on either side of the level space where the horses were to run lay little heaps of personal belongings that had been bet on this or that horse—saddles, blankets, gay bead-embroidered moccasins, and belts, rifles, and cartridges.
As the boys drew near, old Wolf Voice started toward them with greater speed than befitted a chief of his dignity and years.
"You got white-faced horse?" he shouted as he came near. "You run race? Me bet you now, me beat you." The grave old buck was almost childish at the prospect of racing a running horse.
Before answering, John looked over the horses that were to compete, and then consulted with his brother. "What do you think?" said he. "Wolf Voice is crazy for a race, and I think Baldy can beat anything here."
"But we haven't any money," said Ben.
"Me bet you pony, you bet um pony," said the Indian, coming up at this instant and speaking as if in answer to Ben's remark.
John would not put up Baldy as a stake for anything in the world, but he took off his saddle. "I'll bet saddle against your ponies," he said, pointing to two horses a boy was leading forward. The old brave demanded more, so John added bridle and silver-mounted bit to the pile; still he was not satisfied, but John refused to give anything more. Wolf Voice haggled and demanded larger stakes on the boy's part and finally pointed to his spurs; these were unbuckled and thrown on the ground, and at last the bargain was completed.
At this juncture Big Hawk joined the group. He was eager to bet against Baldy, but all John's possessions were already pledged. It was a trying situation for the boy, for he wanted to get even with him, and he felt sure that his horse would win. A happy thought struck him.
"Say, Ben," he called out. "Lend me your saddle to put up against Big Hawk's pony. I haven't got anything left." The younger boy was also eager to pay back the young brave for his work at the buffalo hunt, so he complied with this request unhesitatingly.
The wagers arranged, John looked to his horse. Baldy was now without saddle or bridle, but his owner speedily made ahackamoreor halter outof a piece of rope and climbed on his back; he had decided to ride bare-back.
A number of braves were clearing the course for the racers, who had already lined up at the starting point, but old Wolf Voice rushed down and asked them to wait a minute for the new entry. In the meantime John was trotting up and down, warming up his mount. In a few minutes Baldy was in his place with the others. The horses all knew what was to be done, but Baldy did not become excited and tire himself as did some of the others.
They all lined up a hundred feet from the starting place. The course, which was merely a level, grassy place, stretched out invitingly before them; the Indian spectators formed the boundaries on either side, their usually impassive, dark-red faces working with excitement. At a word from the starter the horses went forward at a trot, then changed to a lope, and were breaking into a run when, a few yards from the scratch, the boy riding Wolf Voice's bay shot out of the line and ahead. Of course they had to be called back, and the boy was sharply reprimanded for spoiling the start.
Then again the horses started and came down to the scratch steadily. At the starter's yell of approval, they sprang ahead with a dash.
After the jolting scramble of the start, John began to plan his race. He pulled his horse out of the bunch and ran on the outside. Baldy and he were about the middle of the string as the fast ones led away. The little bay, which was the old chief's pride, led, running beautifully; at his heels was a big gray, fully holding his own. The distance of half a mile was more than half covered and both bay and gray were ahead of Baldy, who was third and well in advance of the bunch. The crowd was yelling wildly, each man shouting encouragement to his favorite in a way that would make an Eastern baseball "rooter" turn pale with envy.
John lay down closer upon his horse's neck and chirped gently in his ear. There was a perfect understanding between them, and the old steed stretched out his neck a little more, laid his ears hard against the side of his head, and set out to overhaul the leaders, now running nose and nose. Baldy's long stride told, and he gained steadily, but the race was not yet over. If he could get abreast of the two leaders John knew that he could win out on a twenty-foot spurt if need be—he had done it before.
It was but fifty yards from the finish. The two Indian ponies were tiring, but they kept up the pace gamely. The crowd was yelling insanely,uttering threats, encouragements, entreaties in the Indian dialect, which neither John nor Baldy understood; but just at the critical moment a clear, shrill voice rose above the din: "Now, Baldy, hit it up! Get a move on, John!"
Horse and rider braced. John set his lips tighter: they were gaining, gaining perceptibly each second. The two leaders were whipping their ponies spasmodically, but John and Baldy kept their heads. Now Baldy's nose was on a line with the gray's hind quarter, now even with his shoulder, and now all three horses were running as if harnessed in one team. And still he gained. John was becoming excited and raised his quirt. "Come, Baldy, do it!" he cried, and at the same moment brought down the lash on him. The game old horse responded magnificently. A few great jumps and they gained three-quarters of a length. Another instant and they dashed past the finish line. Baldy had won!
John slipped from his back and patted his nose affectionately. "Good work, old chap. I knew you could leave that lot of cayuses behind."
"Hurrah for you, John!" cried Ben as the victors drew near. "Baldy, you're a trump, sure enough."
The boys were soon the centre of a circle ofred faces, excited, threatening, joyful, or merely interested, according to their bets. All were anxious to race again, but John refused. Realizing that he and Ben would be expected home, he broke through the ring, put his saddle and bridle on one of the horses he had won from Wolf Voice, mounted, and started off, leading the other two and Baldy. Ben managed as best he could with the mules, and so they returned to the mine, the richer by three ponies, several trinkets, moccasins, etc. It was not till a good deal later in life that the boys learned how much better worth while it is to race merely for the sake of the sport itself, and what a surprising amount of trouble a man can bring on himself and other people by forming a habit of betting. At present they unthinkingly followed the examples of the rough men around them.
In the year and a half that was spent at this mine on the Yellowstone many opportunities were offered for Baldy to show his speed, but the redskins had learned caution and were never again so reckless as on this memorable occasion.
The friendly feeling between the red and the white boys grew as time went on, and many excursions were taken in company. The Indians told John and Ben things about birds and beasts of which they never dreamed, and showed themgames that were a constant delight. They made a kind of combination spear and skate from the curved rib of a buffalo to the end of which were fastened three feathers; the highly polished convex surface offered little resistance to the ice, so the whole could be thrown a long distance on the glassy surface. The Worth boys grew to be very expert throwers of this queer bone skate, and many were the exciting matches they participated in.