For some moments after the strange man had disappeared the guide, the professor, and the boys sat staring into the darkness in the direction he had taken.
"Wa-al, dog my cats!"
The exclamation came from Old Rocks, who had ceased to pull at the black pipe for the time being.
"Thot bates th' band!"
Barney Mulloy could not express the astonishment he felt.
"What can that mean?"
Professor Scotch rose from the hammock, asking the question in a bewildered manner.
"I can tell you what it means," said Frank, also rising to his feet. "It seems to me there is but one explanation. Fay told me her father was not with her mother, that she had not seen him for a long time, and that her mamma cried when he went away. I believe there was some kind of trouble between the child's parents, and that the one who is known as the hermit, who calls himself 'the man without a name or a home,' is the father of that child."
"Wa-al," drawled Old Rocks, "you may be a tenderfoot an' a kid, but yer has a little hawse sense. Ef you ain't right, I'll chaw my boots fer terbacker!"
"It certainly seems that you are right, Frank," nodded the little professor. "The man was drawn into the camp by your songs, he was fascinated when he saw the sleeping child, and he fled, with a cry of pain, when she murmured 'papa.' Yes, it seems quite certain that the hermit is the child's father."
"Ef thet is right, things is comin' round sing'ler," said the guide. "Ef you kids hedn't seen ther Injuns crawlin' up on ther bufferler you wouldn't got inter ther scrape ye did; ef ye hedn't got inter thet scrape ye wouldn't found ther babby; if yer hedn't found ther babby it's likely she might hev starved ur bin eaten by wild critters; ef Frank hedn't sung them songs ther hermit w'u'dn't come inter camp; ef he hedn't come inter camp he w'u'dn't seen ther leetle gal; an' ef he hedn't seen ther leetle gal we'd never suspected he wuz her father."
This was an unusually long speech for Old Rocks, who was given to short, crusty sentences.
"Do you know where this man lives?" asked Scotch.
"Wa-al, I dunno prezactly, but I reckon I kin find him ag'in."
"That is important; he must be found. The mother of this child must be taken to him. In that way a reunion may be brought about. Probably the unfortunate woman is quite distracted to-night. In the morning we will lose no time in finding her and restoring the child to her arms."
For some time they sat about the fire, discussing the strange events of the day. Finally, all became sleepy, and it was decided that they had better "turn in."
As Old Rocks seemed to sleep "with one eye open," they had not found it necessary to have any one stand guard since he had been with them. No wild animal could come prowling about the camp without arousing the old fellow in a moment.
The fire was replenished, the flap of the tent left open, so the warmth might enter, as the nights were rather cool, and the party retired.
In a short time all were sleeping soundly.
Frank's slumber was dreamless, but he was finally aroused by being shaken fiercely.
"Git up hyar!" commanded a snarling voice.
In the twinkling of an eye he was wide awake and sitting up.
"What is the matter?" was the question that came from his lips, as, by the dim light that came from the dying fire, he recognized Old Rocks bending over him.
"Ther dickens is ter pay!" grated the guide. "She's gone!"
"She? Who?"
"Ther leetle gal."
"Fay?"
"Yep."
"Gone?"
Frank was dazed. He looked around and saw Barney and the professor sitting up near at hand, but, sure enough, he could see nothing of the child.
"Yep," nodded Old Rocks. "She ain't in this yar tent."
"But—but how——"
"Dunno how she done it 'thout wakin' me, but she's gone."
"It must be that the Hermit crept in here and kidnaped her."
"Begorro!" cried Barney; "Oi belave thot is roight!"
"It seems reasonable," said the professor.
"Whut d'yer think!" snarled Old Rocks; "fancy I'd snooze right along an' let anything like thet happen? Wa-al, I guess not! Dog my cats ef I know how it kem about, but there gal jest vanished."
"She appeared like a fairy, and like a fairy she has disappeared," said Frank. "But she may be near the camp. We must lose no time in making a search for her."
"Right ye are!" cried Old Rocks, as he led the way from the tent.
Hastening outside, they called to the child, but received no answer.
"Wait a little," advised the guide, as he replenished the fire. "Don't go ter trompin' round yar too much. I wants ter look fer sign."
In this emergency they knew it was best to rely on his judgment, and so they remained quiet, watching his movements.
Having started up the fire, the guide began looking for "sign." His eyes were keen, and it did not take him long to find what he sought.
"Hyar's whar she left ther tent," he declared.
The others looked, but the ground told them nothing.
"That's foolishness," said Professor Scotch, sharply. "You don't mean to say you can see anything here?"
"Wa-al, thet's whut I mean. You're a tenderfut, an' so yer can't see anything. She wuzn't carried off."
"It is not likely she went away alone."
"Likely or not, thet's whut she done."
Bending low, Old Rocks followed the trail as far as the light of the fire reached.
"I reckon I kin torch her," he muttered.
"What do you mean by torching her?" asked Scotch.
Old Rocks made no answer, but returned to the little pile of fuel he had accumulated. This he quickly pulled over, selecting several sticks. He thrust the end of one into the flames, and, in a few moments, had a lighted torch.
"Git yer guns," he directed, "an' come erlong with me."
They did so, with the exception of the professor, whonever touched a weapon if he could avoid it. However, he followed the others, and Old Rocks quickly took up the trail once more.
Frank was filled with anxiety for the safety of little Fay. He wondered greatly that the child should arise and creep from the tent without disturbing any one, and then flee into the darkness, but he did not doubt that Rocks had read the sign correctly.
It almost seemed that the guide was able to follow the trail by scent, for he moved swiftly, bending low, and holding the torch close to the ground.
In vain Frank looked for a footprint. The ground did not seem soft enough to yield such a mark, and still Old Rocks seldom hesitated a moment.
Along the valley they went, stringing out one after the other, their hearts throbbing with anxiety.
In this manner they proceeded at least half a mile, and then they came to a stretch of timber. The trail led straight into the woods.
Old Rocks growled and shook his head, and it was plain that he was quite as anxious as any of them.
For a moment they paused on the border of the strip of woods, while the guide got down on his hands and knees and closely inspected the trail.
"Was she alone when she reached this spot?" asked Frank.
Old Rocks nodded.
"It's ther dernedest thing I ever heerd of!" he grumbled. "How a little babby like thet should git up o' her own accord and go prowlin' off inter ther night gits me."
"It is ridiculous," said Professor Scotch. "Such a thing never happened before, and I can't believe it happened on this occasion. Why, she would have beenfrightened out of her senses. Somebody must have lured her away. That man you call the Hermit must have done it, and I will wager something she joined him as soon as she left the tent."
The guide gave a snort.
"Thet's enough to say I'm a derned fool! Ef ther babby left a trail, you will allow ther man must hev done ther same."
"Of course he did."
"Wa-al, looker yere. Hyar's a bit o' soft ground, an' you kin see whar she crossed over, but I'll be derned ef you kin see any track but ther ones she made."
He held the torch for them to examine the ground, and the tracks left by the child were plainly visible. It was true that she had passed into the timber alone.
"There's a mystery about this that I cannot understand," murmured Frank.
"It looks loike she wur a sure enough fairy," said Barney. "Av not thot, thin this is th' Ould Nick's oun worruk!"
At this moment all were startled by a cry that came from the timber—the cry of a child, broken and smothered.
Old Rocks straightened up, and the light of the torch fell on four pale, startled faces.
"Something has happened to her!" panted Frank. "Forward, man, forward! She may have been attacked by a wild beast!"
In another instant the guide was striding swiftly along the trail, making it necessary for the others to run in order to keep up with him.
They penetrated the timber for a considerable distance, and then, of a sudden, Old Rocks stopped short,stooping low to stare at the ground, grinding an exclamation of dismay through his teeth.
"What is it?" demanded Frank fearing the worst.
After a hasty survey of the ground, the guide replied:
"Injuns! Ther leetle gal has been ketched by ther p'izen varmints, sure as shootin'!"
"Th' saints defind her!" cried Barney.
"Indians?" panted Frank. "Are you sure?"
"Wa-al, I reckon! Hyar's ther marks. See them hoof prints thar. Notice they toe in. Thet is Injun sign."
"I—I think we had better return to the camp at once," fluttered Professor Scotch.
"Not much!" exclaimed Frank, fiercely. "If she has fallen into the hands of those red wretches, we must follow them and rescue her."
Old Rocks nodded.
"You talk all right, youngster; but I reckon yer sand would ooze out on a pinch. All ther same, we must foller ther skunks."
"Go on!" came from Barney. "Begobs! we'll show yez av we've got sand!"
"But I am not feeling well," protested the professor.
"Then ye'd better go back," snarled Old Rocks. "You'll be more bother then good, anyhow."
"I—I can't go back through the darkness. I should lose my way. You must accompany me to the camp."
"An' waste all thet time? Wa-al, I ruther guess not! Time is too valuable just now."
"This is a terrible scrape!" fluttered Scotch. "I expect we'll all be killed before we get out of it!"
The guide seemed to hesitate, casting a sidelong look at the professor, as if he longed to get rid of the man in some way, but did not know how.
"I kin do as much erlone as I kin with ther hull o' yer," he finally said. "I reckons ye'd best all go back."
"I guess not!" cried Frank. "I am with you through thick and thin! You will remember that I found the child, and she called herself my fairy. It is my duty to help rescue her."
"Wa-al, I 'lows ye'll stick ter thet," growled Old Rocks; "an' so I'll hev ter take yer erlong."
"An' Oi'm wid him, begobs!"
But the guide would not agree to that.
"Somebody's got ter go back ter camp an' look out fer things," he said. "I reckons you an' ther professor is ther ones."
Barney groaned.
"Profissor, can't yez go alone?" he asked. "It's nivver a chance have Oi had ter take a hand in a bit av a ruction loately, av ye will except th' chance Oi had th' doay."
But Professor Scotch had no fancy to return through the darkness to the camp, and he insisted that Barney should accompany him. The Irish boy was forced to succumb, and he parted from Frank with the utmost reluctance and regret.
"We have fought an' bled togither," he said, "an' it's harrud to be parruted loike this."
In a short time Barney and the professor were returning to the camp, while, with Frank Merriwell at his heels, Old Rocks again took up the trail.
Frank marveled at the swiftness with which Old Rocks swung over the ground.
Through the timber they made their way, and then through a narrow ravine, and four or five miles had been covered before the guide paused to speak.
"They're makin' straight fer ther lake," he said. "I don't like that."
"Why not?"
"Ef ther p'izen varmints has canoes—wa-al, we won't be liable ter foller 'em farther than ther lake."
"That is true. We will hope they have no canoes."
Onward they went once more, Old Rocks having lighted a fresh torch, which left but one remaining.
The night was on the wane. Already the sounds of the middle night were hushed. The owls had stopped their hooting, and now, on noiseless wing, were making their last hunting rounds before day should come.
Afar on the side of a mountain a wolf was howling like a dog baying to the moon. The stars which filled the sky seemed to prophesy of dawn.
Bending low, now and then swinging his torch to fan it into a stronger flame, Old Rocks almost raced along the trail, while the boy at his heels kept close.
They were like two tongueless hounds upon a hot scent.
And thus they came, at last, to the lake.
Not a word did Old Rocks say for several minutes, but he moved up and down the shore, reading the "sign," while his companion waited with the greatest anxiety.
At length, with a grated exclamation of rage and dismay, the man flung himself on the ground.
"It's jest as I feared," he growled. "Ther onery varmints hed canoes hid hyar, an' we kin trail 'em no farther."
"Then what can we do?" fluttered the discomfited boy.
"Northin' but wait fer daylight."
Now on the still air very faintly was heard a distant tone of music; a sweet whistle, at first low, rising and falling, and then gradually becoming more distinct. It came nearer and nearer till it seemed to fill the air all about, and then, looking upward, they saw dark forms flitting between them and the stars.
The wild ducks were flying.
The musical note passed on, receded, grew fainter and fainter, till, at last, it died out in the distance.
From the lake came a far-off trumpet call, and then another—the mellow note of the wild geese.
The world was awakening; the day was near.
The stars were growing paler now. In the eastern sky was a bit of gray, which slowly broadened, pushing upward and blotting out the stars.
Where all before was dark, the morning twilight began to show the black forms of things.
The outlines of tree trunks could be seen, and they seemed to stand like ghosts, reaching out shadowy arms, as if feeling their way through the dimness.
The birds which through the long night had slept in the low bushes were beginning to chirp and flutter.
All at once, Old Rocks started and clutched Frank's arm.
"Listen!" he whispered.
The sound of footsteps told them some one was approaching.
"Back!" whispered the guide, leading the way. "We must see who ther critter is, an' he musn't see us."
Hastily they drew into the deep shadows, holding their rifles ready for use in case they should need them.
Nearer and nearer came the footsteps, and then the dark figure of a man appeared, advancing through the dusky darkness.
The man was alone, and he halted on the shore of the lake, within a short distance of the crouching man and boy. They saw him bow his head on his breast and stand there in silence.
Several minutes passed. At last, the unknown lifted his head, stretched out his arms, and uttered a long, mournful cry that seemed to come from a breaking heart.
Old Rocks rose and glided swiftly and silently towardthe stranger, who did not hear him approach. The guide's hand dropped on the man's shoulder, and he said:
"Hello, Hermit. Whatever be yer doin' hyar?"
The strange man turned, and Frank saw that it was indeed the Hermit of the Yellowstone.
"Doing?" he said, hoarsely. "I am seeking rest—seeking rest! I'll never find it till I rest in the grave!"
"You must hev a derned bad liver, or somethin' o' ther sort," sneered Old Rocks. "I don't understand a critter like you none whatever."
"I do not expect you to understand me. You do not know my story. If I were to tell you——"
"We ain't got time ter listen; but I'll tell you a leetle story. You know ther babby-gal whut yer saw at our camp?"
The hermit bowed, and then, as if a suspicion of the truth had flashed over him, he fiercely grasped the guide with both hands, hoarsely demanding:
"Has anything happened to her? Tell me—tell me quick!"
With a few well-chosen words, Old Rocks told exactly what had happened. The hermit seemed overcome with horror and dismay.
"She must be saved!"
"You're right; but how wuz we ter foller ther red varmints 'thout a canoe. Now they hev got clean away."
"I will find her!" cried the hermit, with one hand uplifted, as if registering a vow. "I will find her and restore her to—hold! How did she happen to be with you?"
A further explanation was in order. Frank told how Fay had appeared in time to save himself and Barney from being attacked by Half Hand and the Blackfeet, what she had told them, how they had taken her to thecamp, and how Old Rocks had agreed to find her mother with the coming of another day.
The guide and the boy believed the Hermit must be little Fay's father, and they watched him closely as he listened. When Frank had finished, the strange man eagerly asked:
"Her name—her full name—did you learn it?"
"No. She told us her name was Fay, and that her mother sometimes called her Fairy Fay; but we were unable to learn her last name."
"From whut we saw in ther camp, we allowed as how it wuz likely you hed seen ther babby afore, an' you knowed her proper name," insinuated Old Rocks.
The Hermit did not answer the implied question.
"Come," he said, "follow me. I have a canoe."
"I s'pose we can't do any wuss," mumbled Old Rocks; "though I don't prezactly know how we're goin' ter trail them critters through ther warter."
The Hermit moved along at a swinging stride, and they followed him through the morning twilight.
Less than half a mile had been covered when the man in advance suddenly paused, uttering an exclamation of surprise.
Straight ahead, amid the trees of a little grove on the shore, they beheld the snowy outlines of a tent.
In a little park beyond the camp could be seen the dusky outlines of horses feeding. Close to the open flap of the tent two dogs were curled, both sleeping soundly, so silent had been the approach of the trio.
The light in the eastern sky was getting a pink tinge, and, with each passing moment, objects could be seen more distinctly.
A tiny column of blue smoke rose from the white ashes of the camp-fire, telling that a brand still smoldered there.
There was a stir within the tent. There were muffledgrunts, a yawn or two, the rustle of clothing, faint sounds of footsteps, and then the flap of the tent was flung wide open, and a man came out into the morning air. He paused and stretched his limbs, standing so the trio obtained a fair view of him.
With a sudden, hoarse cry, the Hermit rushed forward and confronted the man.
"Foster Fairfax!" he shouted, with savage joy; "at last we are face to face!"
"Preston March!"
The man who had just stepped out of the tent fell back, a look of astonishment, not unmingled with fear, on his face.
"Yes, Preston March!" cried the Hermit. "You know me, and I know you, treacherous friend, base scoundrel that you are!"
The man called Foster Fairfax lifted his hands, as if to ward off a blow.
"Preston, it was a mistake—a fearful mistake."
"For you—yes! I have sworn by the heavens above to have your life if fate ever threw you across my path. I shall keep that oath!"
"I expect it."
"Then draw your weapon, and defend yourself! I shall not murder you in cold blood. Draw, draw!"
"No! Shoot, if you will! I'll never lift a hand against you."
"Coward?"
The Hermit was quivering with fury, while the face of the other man was still ghastly white.
Other men came from the tent, rubbing their eyes, all of them very much surprised. One of them attempted to intervene.
"Here!" he cried, addressing the Hermit; "what do you mean by coming into this camp and raising such a row? Are you insane? You are not going to do any shooting here!"
Old Rocks strode forward, Frank Merriwell at his heels.
"I'll allow as how the Hermit has fair play," said the guide, grimly. "He ain't alone in this yar deal."
"Who are you?" demanded the man, haughtily. "Are we to be assailed by a band of desperadoes?"
"None whatever. I'm hyar ter see fair play. I'll allow thar's some deeficulty atwixt these yere gents, an' ther Hermit feels like settlin' right now an' yere."
"It is an outrage! You have no right to come here and make trouble. Fairfax, if that ruffian touches you——"
Foster Fairfax motioned the speaker to be silent.
"This man is not a ruffian," he declared, speaking as calmly as possible. "There is a misunderstanding between us. I have wronged him, and he has a right to seek satisfaction."
The man's companions were astonished by his words. They looked at him in a dazed way.
Even the Hermit seemed a trifle surprised, but he said:
"It is true, and I demand satisfaction. Draw and defend yourself, Fairfax!"
"No; you have not wronged me. Here, March—here is my heart! Shoot! You cannot miss it at this distance."
Preston March, the Hermit of Yellowstone Park, half lifted the weapon which he had drawn. Then he fell back a step, hoarsely saying:
"Would you put a curse upon me by making me a murderer? You have a weapon. Draw it, and we will play fair and even. It shall be a duel to the death at twenty paces. One of us shall die! The other can go back to——"
"Hold! Speak not the name here! I tell you, Preston, there was a blunder—a frightful blunder. If you will listen——"
"You will tell me a mess of lies. A man who would deceive his best friend as you deceived me would not hesitate to lie with his last breath!"
"You shall judge if I lie. If you demand that I meet you, I demand that you first listen to my explanation."
"If I must——"
"On no other condition will I meet you."
"But there are others to hear. Will you speak before them?"
"No. Come aside where no one but ourselves may hear."
The Hermit bowed, and they walked away, keeping several feet apart.
"Wa-al," drawled Old Rocks, "we don't seem ter be in thet none whatever, an' so we'd best make ourselves easy."
He flung himself down upon the ground, produced his black pipe and a plug of tobacco, and began preparing for a smoke, whittling off the tobacco with his bowie-knife.
The campers drew aside and talked among themselves, regarding their uninvited visitors with suspicion, which did not disturb the guide at all.
Frank was restless. He walked up and down, keeping his eyes on Fairfax and the Hermit, who had halted at a distance and were talking earnestly.
In the east the streaky clouds had flushed to a deep red and paled again to richest gold. To the west the mighty mountains which rose beyond the lake were wrapped in garments of rose. The light of day had spread itself over all the heavens, and the sun was shooting glittering glances above the horizon.
The campers began to move about. Wood was piledupon the ashes where the last embers of the old fire still smoldered, and the crackling of a match was followed by a blaze.
Some of the campers prepared breakfast, while one of them approached Old Rocks, whom he questioned concerning the Hermit.
"Yer know purty derned nigh ez much 'bout him ez I do," grunted the guide. "All I know is thet he's bin hyar in ther park fer ther last y'ar ur so. Some galoots has said as how he wuz cracked in ther upper story, but I'll allow thet's a mistake. Yer heard t'other gent admit thet he'd done the Hermit a crooked turn, an' I reckons thet's whut makes ther Hermit whut he is. Now I've tol' yer whutever I know 'bout ther Hermit, mebbe ye'll give me a few p'ints 'bout t'other gent?"
"We know nothing in particular of him, save that he seems to be a man of leisure and means, rather melancholy, given to fits of despondency, followed by spells of wild hilarity."
A queer look came into the guide's eye, and he asked:
"How much o' it does he drink a day?"
"How much what?"
"Hilarity. Does he kerry it in quart bottles, or by ther gallon?"
"He does drink at times," admitted the camper; "but he declares that he hates liquor, and I believe him. He seems to take it to drown memory."
"Wa-al, he may drown memory fer an hour ur so, but he'll find it comes back a derned sight harder when he lets up on drinkin'."
Rocks lighted his pipe, settled himself into a comfortable position, and began to smoke.
The fire was burning brightly, and a blackened coffee-pot was brought forth. As soon as there were some coals, the pot was placed upon them, and it soon began tosimmer and send forth a delightful odor, making Frank ravenously hungry.
Old Rocks was hungry, but he showed no symptom of it, smoking on indifferently, all the while keeping an eye on the Hermit and Fairfax.
Frank offered to pay for something to eat and a cup of coffee; but the campers declined to take anything, telling him he was welcome. They then offered Old Rocks something, and the guide accepted gracefully.
For nearly an hour the Hermit and Foster Fairfax talked. The manner of both became subdued, and the strange man of the park seemed to have lost his desire to meet Fairfax in a deadly encounter.
All at once they parted, and the Hermit hurried away, while Fairfax walked back toward the camp.
Old Rocks shouted to the Hermit, but the man paid no heed to the call.
"Come, youngster," said the guide, getting on his feet and picking up his rifle. "We'd best foller thet critter. He said he hed a chance, an' thet wuz whut we wuz arter."
Frank thanked the campers for their hospitality, and then hastened after Old Rocks, who was striding away after the Hermit, who had already vanished from view.
"Whatever's got inter ther man?" growled the guide. "He seems ter hev clean fergot we're on earth."
For at least a mile Old Rocks followed on the trail of the Hermit, and it finally ended at the shore of the lake, where it was seen that the man had taken a canoe.
And far out on the lake he was paddling swiftly away.
Puttinghis hands to his mouth, the guide sent a call across the water:
"Oh, Hermit!"
The man paddled on without looking back. Rocksrepeated the cry several times, but without apparent effect, and then gave up in disgust.
"I'll allow this is onery!" he growled, as he sat down and lighted his pipe once more. "Dog my cats ef it ain't!"
Frank was disheartened.
"Poor little Fay!" he murmured, sadly. "What will become of her?"
"We'll find her," declared Old Rocks, grimly. "We'll find her ef we hev ter tramp clean round this yar lake ter strike ther trail o' them p'izen Blackfeet!"
"Do you think we can ever find their trail?"
"Wa-al, I'll allow! Ain't we got ter find 'em? Ain't they got ter come ter shore somewhar? You bet yer boots! Old Rocks is on ther warpath, an' ther measly varmints want ter look out!"
The guide seemed very much in earnest, which gave Frank fresh hope. The boy was ready to spend any length of time in the search for the missing child.
Having smoked and meditated a short time, Old Rocks arose.
"Come," he said, and he struck out once more.
Along the shore they went, the eyes of the guide always searching for the trail. Sometimes they were forced back from the water by steep bluffs and precipices, but the guide missed no places where the Indians could have landed.
It was about midway in the forenoon that the trail was struck. The canoes were found craftily concealed, and in the soft ground near the lake were the imprints of tiny feet.
"Thar!" cried Old Rocks, looking at the marks; "thet shows we ain't on a wild-goose chase. Now we don't hold up none whatever till we overtakes ther p'izen skunks an' rescues ther gal. You hear me!"
"The grizzly folded Frank in his embrace, crushing the lad against his shaggy breast." (See page 205)
"The grizzly folded Frank in his embrace, crushing the lad against his shaggy breast." (See page205)
Frank found Old Rocks a hard man to follow, and the guide was amazed by the endurance of the boy.
It was long past midday when Rocks sat down on a fallen tree, and filled his pipe.
"Say,"he drawled, surveying his companion, "you beat all ther tenderfut kids I've ever seen, dog my cats ef you don't!"
"How is that?" asked Frank, who was glad to have a few moments' respite. "What do you mean?"
"Wa-al, I hev bin expectin' all along as how you'd peg out, but I'm derned ef you don't seem fresh as a daisy now!"
"Oh, I am good for a few miles more," said the boy, smiling.
Rocks nodded.
"Thet's whatever. You've got buckram; but I know yer ain't got sand. Tenderfeet never has any."
"I don't suppose you have ever found any exceptions?"
"Derned few! Now I've got somethin' ter say."
"Say it."
"It's plain these yar red varmints are makin' a run fer it, kinder thinkin' they might be follered. It's liable ter be several days afore they're overtook."
"Well?"
"Wa-al, we ain't fitted fer such a tramp."
"What's that?" cried the boy in dismay. "You do not think of giving it up, do you?"
"Nary bit; but I kinder 'lowed you might feel thet way."
"I guess not!"
"Stiddy! Don't be too quick. Wait till I tells yer whut yer may expect."
"Go ahead."
"Jest ez long ez I'm on this yar trail I shell keep up ther pace I hev bin makin' this day su fur."
"That is good."
"Huah! Think yer kin stan' it, eh? Wa-al, thet ain't all."
"Give us the rest of it."
"It'll be a case o' sleepin' in ther open, 'throut kiver, eatin' w'en yer kin, an' gittin' anything we kin shoot an' havin' it hafe cooked ur not cooked at all, an' lots o' other inconveniences thet'll make yer long fer ther comforts o' home."
"And you fancy I'll not be able to stand it?"
"I kinder 'lowed it'd be hard on a tender kid like you be."
Frank had flung himself on the ground, but now he arose and faced the guide, speaking firmly and calmly:
"Rocks, you heard the child say she'd be my fairy, you saw that she took to me, I sung her to sleep, and she clung to me. I will tell you now that I am ready to go through anything for Fairy Fay. She is in terrible danger. If she is not rescued, her fate is frightful to contemplate. I shall never rest till she is saved! I want to go along with you; but I shall continue the hunt alone, if you will not have me."
The old fellow grunted sourly, and puffed away at the black pipe for some moments. At last, he got upon his feet and held out his hand to Frank.
"Put ther thar!" he cried. "You talk all right; we'll see how yer pan out. You kin go erlong."
They shook hands, and Frank was well satisfied.
"You stay right yere by ther trail," directed the guide. "I'm goin' over yon a piece ter see ef thar is some mud geysers down thar. It's been some time sence I wuz in this yar part o' ther park, an' I wants ter git my bearin's. I'll be back yere directly, an' you kin be restin' meantime."
Frank felt like demurring, but he believed it best to do exactly as the guide directed, and so he nodded and sat down again, while Old Rocks strode away and soon disappeared.
Nearly thirty minutes passed, and then, of a sudden, the boy was startled by the report of a rifle, the sound of the shot coming from the direction in which the guide had disappeared.
"I wonder what it can mean?" speculated Frank.
He was uneasy. He knew the guide might have fired at some kind of small game, but for some reason he fancied such was not the case.
Was Old Rocks in trouble?
Catching up his rifle, Frank started on a run in the direction taken by the guide.
Down into the valley he went, his eyes wide open. Suddenly, a short distance before him, there was a hissing, rushing roar, and a column of mud and water shot into the air.
There were the mud geysers Old Rocks had started out to look for.
Toward the geyser hurried Frank, still looking for his companion.
Before the column of mud and water had ceased shooting into the air, Frank came upon a startling spectacle.
Not far from the geysers Old Rocks was engaged in a hand-to-hand encounter with a huge grizzly bear!
On the ground near by lay the body of another bear, telling how accurate had been the guide's first shot.
The guide was using his bowie knife, which was already stained with blood to the hilt.
Frank did not hesitate about rushing straight toward the battling man and beast, and Old Rocks saw him coming.
"Keerful, boy!" panted the man; "keerful with thet thar rifle! Don't shoot yere, fer yer might bore me."
"I won't hit you," promised Frank. "I will shoot the bear."
"You don't know whar ter put yer lead, an' yer might fire a dozen bullets inter this varmint 'thout finishin' him."
It was evident that the old man was badly winded.
Thus far he had avoided the bear's hug, but he could not hold out long. Barely had he uttered the last words when, with a sudden blow of one paw, the grizzly struck him to the ground.
Frank rushed in, seeing the monster settle on all fours over Old Rocks.
"I'll fix him!" grated the boy, as he thrust the muzzle of his rifle almost against bruin's head and pulled the trigger.
For the first time on record the weapon missed fire.
With a fierce growl, the bear whirled and knocked the rifle out of Frank's grasp.
In a dazed manner, Old Rocks saw everything.
"Ther kid's a goner!" thought the guide. "We're both done fer!"
Out Frank snapped a revolver, and then, taking a step toward the bear, he fired five bullets into the creature in marvelously rapid succession.
A roar came from the bear's throat, and the beastreared on its hind feet, its jaws dripping blood and foam, and rushed upon the dauntless boy.
Frank flung aside the revolver, just as Rocks struggled to a sitting posture, thickly crying:
"Run, kid! run fer yer life!"
"Not much!" came through Frank's set teeth. "Think I'd run and leave you to the bear! I guess not!"
"Dog my cats!" murmured the guide, weakly.
The bear, dripping blood from its many wounds, still fierce as a raging tiger, came at Frank. The boy dodged, managed to avoid the rush, and gave the beast a wicked stab with the knife.
"Dog my cats!" murmured the dazed guide once more.
Frank Merriwell's face bore a look of fearless determination, and he was ready for the bear to charge again.
It came.
Frank tried to repeat the trick, slipped a bit, saw he could not escape, and then met the formidable beast.
"Now he is a goner!" gurgled Old Rocks, faintly.
With outstretched paws the bear closed in.
Frank saw he was not going to be able to escape the hug, and he placed the haft of the knife against his own breast, with the point directed toward the bear.
The grizzly folded Frank in his embrace, crushing the lad against his shaggy breast, and, in this way, the creature drove the knife home to its own heart.
Uttering a great groan, it relaxed its hold, dropped on all fours, hung its head, and then sunk in a heap upon the ground, dying.
Frank felt as if his ribs had been crushed, and he was covered with blood, but he had conquered.
Old Rocks was so dazed that he sat on the ground, staring at the "tenderfoot kid," and faintly gasping:
"Dog my cats!"
Frank flung the knife to the ground, and then sat down, panting, in a desperate endeavor to get a full breath.
Old Rocks got up very slowly, stood looking at the dead bear some moments, and then looked at the boy.
"This beats me!" he grunted. "Whoever heard o' a tenderfut doin' sech a thing! An' he didn't seem ter be scart a tall!"
Then he came nearer Frank, at whom he still stared.
"It ain't a mistake, none whatever. This yar kid done it, and he done it in great shape! Say, youngster."
"What?"
"I wants ter 'polergize."
"What for?"
"Fer sayin' tenderfeet never has sand. I'll take it all back. You've got sand enough fer anything, you hev! Do you know whut you done? Wa-al, a grizzly is harder ter kill then a hull tribe o' Injuns! I wuz dead lucky ter kill t'other one by a chance shot, an' I'd never done it ef I hedn't been so nigh ther muzzle o' my rifle wuz right up ag'in' ther varmint. You worked an old hunter's trick on him. Thet fust jab you gave ther whelp kinder spruced him up, an' he wuz ready ter crush ther stuffin' outer yer. By holdin' ther knife ez yer did, yer made him kill hisself. Guv us yer hand! I'll swar by you through thick and thin!"
So they shook hands again.
"Ther trail's gittin' derned hot, boy!" said Old Rocks, near sunset. "Ther p'izen varmints can't be fur ahead."
They were passing through one of the wildest sections of the park. Mountains, capped with eternal snow, were on every hand. Their sides were seamed with mighty chasms and strewn with huge bowlders, many of which, it seemed, the weight of a hand would send crashing and thundering into the dark depths below.
Some of the mountains bore traces of vegetation, pine and cedar showing darkly on many a jagged cliff. Some were bleak and barren, but none the less grand, impressive, and awe-inspiring.
Amid these mountains were desolate canyons, which seemed to hold some dreadful secret locked fast in their silent bosoms.
Since the encounter with the grizzlies Old Rocks and Frank had paused to eat a square meal of bear-steak, and it had braced them for the tramp, so they were able to cover ground swiftly without fatigue or discomfort.
They had passed through a region of boiling geysers, where the water shot more than a hundred feet into the air, and came down in a rain, across which a beautiful rainbow formed, the roaring sound which accompanied this exhibition being as loud as the exhaust of a thousand locomotives.
In one marshy valley they had passed pools of water, sulphur yellow, bright green, pink, crimson, and nearlyall colors of the rainbow, the pools being from twenty to fifty feet apart.
They had seen other things which were not given a second glance by Old Rocks, but which Frank longed to stop and examine.
But it was no time for sight-seeing, as the boy well knew, and he held close to the heels of the unwearying guide.
And now, near nightfall, Old Rocks declared that the trail was getting hot.
"Shall we be able to overtake them before dark?" asked Frank, with the greatest anxiety.
"I dunno," was the answer. "But it's derned certun thet we ain't goin' ter come fur from it."
"Oh, for two hours more of daylight!" sighed the boy.
"We'd run ther critters down dead sure in thet time. But I don't want yer ter git ther idee thet they're goin' ter give up ther gal 'thout a murmur."
"But they will have to give her up."
"Thet's whatever. All ther same, we may hev ter fight, an' ole Half Hand is a mighty bad critter ter buck agin'; you hear me shout!"
"I am ready to fight, if necessary."
"Ef I'd heerd yer say so this mornin', I w'u'dn't putt no dependence on it; but now I'll allow thet yer means whut yer says, an' yer've got sand ter give erway. Boy, you're a holy terror on trucks, an' you may quote me ez sayin' so."
Frank did not smile.
"Wait," he said. "I may not show up so well in the encounter with the Blackfeet. I was lucky in the bear fight."
"Wa-al, dog my cats ef you ain't ther fust tenderfut I ever saw thet wouldn't hev bragged his head off ef he'dkilled a grizzly! Why, boy, you don't seem ter know whut ye've done! You've made a record. Ary other tenderfut I ever saw'd go back East an' publish ther story in all ther papers. He'd be hailed ez a mighty chief an' a tin god on wheels."
"Tenderfeet are not all braggarts, any more than Westerners are all brave men."
"Thet's whatever," nodded Rocks; "but it's took me a gaul derned long time ter find it out."
The sun was low behind the western mountains, and darkness was filling the great canyons.
The guide swung onward at a steady pace, following the trail with the same readiness and ease that had proved a source of wonder all along to his companion.
It was evident the Blackfeet had not anticipated hot pursuit, and so they had made little or no effort to hide their trail after passing across an arm of the lake.
The trail grew hotter and hotter, but night came on swiftly, and Old Rocks was forced to bend low and keep his eyes on the ground.
"Watch out ahead, boy," he directed. "I've got all I kin' tend ter in follerin' ther trail. Don't let us run plump onter ther varmints, fer they might take a notion ter wipe us out."
So Frank followed the guide, keeping his eyes to the front, and watching for danger.
Darker and darker it became. Rocks was forced to proceed more slowly, as there was danger of losing the trail entirely.
Finally he found it necessary to stop now and then and examine the ground thoroughly.
"We shall not overtake them before dark, shall we?" asked Frank, anxiously.
"Hard tellin'. Watch out. May run onter 'em any time."
When they halted again, Frank suddenly uttered a low cry of warning, caught hold of the man, and exclaimed:
"Look there!"
Through the darkness they saw the twinkle of a camp-fire.
"Thet settles it!" breathed Old Rocks, exultantly."The skunks are thar! We've run 'em down!"
He gave no further attention to the trail, but straightway made sure that every weapon he possessed was ready for use.
"Now, boy," he whispered, "keep yer nerve. Thar'll be need enough o' it afore long."
"I am with you," assured Frank. "I do not think I shall lose my nerves in this case."
"Wa-al, I don't," confessed the man. "I've got heaps o' conferdence in yer now. We'll creep up."
Then followed something that sorely tried the patience of the boy, for Old Rocks seemed to crawl forward like a snail, taking advantage of every cover that would shield them from the sight of any one in front.
The guide warned Frank to "hug ther ground," and made him creep, and skulk, and wiggle along when there seemed no need of it.
In this way they slowly drew near to the fire, about which figures moved now and then.
"It's ther onery Blackfeet," the guide finally announced. "We hev done a good job so fur ter-day, an' now we wants ter finish it right, you bet!"
"What do you mean to do?" asked Frank.
"Make a bluff," was the answer.
"What kind of a bluff?"
They had reached a point where they could look into the camp and see the savages feasting on some kind of game they had killed and cooked by the fire.
"I'm goin' in thar an' demand ther gal," said the guide.
"Won't that put us in their power?"
"You won't go with me."
"No?"
"No. You'll keep in ther background."
"What for?"
"As a reserve force. You must keep yer peepers open, an' ef you see ther skunks is goin' ter do fer me, jest open up on 'em. I reckon you kin shoot some?"
"Yes."
"Take good keer not ter bore me."
"I will."
"But, ef yer start, pump ther lead ter ther critters ter beat ther Ole Nick."
"I will do it."
"Make sure whar ye're puttin' yer bullets, fer ye don't want ter kill ther leetle gal."
"You may depend on me."
"While you're slingin' lead I'll try ter git ther gal an' git erway with her."
"Won't we get into trouble if I should kill one of these Indians?"
"How?"
"Why, the Blackfeet are peaceable, and it may create a disturbance. We may be hauled over the coals."
"Haul an' be derned! Ther onery varmints hev kidnaped a white gal, an' they're poachin' on forbidden territory, besides bein' off ther reservation. Ef they try ter kill me, it will be a case o' self-defence. I'll allow as how we kin defend ourselves. You do ez I say, an we'll come out all right, dog my cats ef we don't!"
"All right."
"But don't shoot 'less yer hev ter, remember thet."
"I will remember it."
"Ef I hedn't seen ther b'ar, an' seen hwar yer putt five bullets inter him inside ther space uv a silver dollar,I might be skerry 'bout lettin' yer shoot inter thet camp while I wuz thar; but I'll admit ez how I reckon ye kin shoot."
They now crept forward till they were within easy shooting distance of the camp, and then Rocks paused once more, putting his lips close to Frank's ear, and whispering:
"See them rocks down thar?"
The boy nodded.
"Wa-al, jest you creep down behind them an' take yer position ready ter sling lead."
"What are you going to do?"
"Git inter ther camp. I'm goin' ter walk in from t'other side, so they'll be lookin' fer any further danger frum thet quarter. Don't git impatient, fer it'll take me some time ter git round thar. Wait easy."
"I'll wait."
Then the old man crept away into the darkness, and Frank began working his way down to the rocks.
He finally reached the position, and there he waited, being able to look into the camp and see every figure revealed by the flaring fire.
The little girl was there, exhausted by the day of hardships, sleeping soundly. One of the Indians had thrown a greasy blanket over her, so she was protected from the night air, which is always chilly in Yellowstone Park.
Frank's heart throbbed with sympathy as he gazed down on her.
"Poor little Fairy!" he thought. "How she did cling to me! I am ready to wade through fire and water for her. We will save her to-night if we live!"
He found it difficult to restrain his impatience as the time crept slowly away and Old Rocks failed to appear. Some of the Indians rolled themselves in their blanketsand prepared to sleep. Others sat and smoked in grim silence.
Frank had spotted Half Hand, and he felt that it would be some satisfaction to send a bullet after the villainous half-blood.
"He is at the bottom of this business," thought the boy. "He would not hesitate at murder."
Nearly an hour passed after Old Rocks crept away before the guide appeared. At last, to the astonishment of Frank and the utter consternation of the Indians, the man seemed to rise up in the very midst of the camp, as if he had suddenly sprouted from the ground.
A yell of astonishment broke from the throats of the Indians who were awake, and it brought the sleepers out of their blankets in a moment.
With the utmost coolness, Old Rocks stepped toward the fire, sat down on a log near the sleeping child, and took out his black pipe.
"Any o' you fellers got any good smokin' terbacker?" he asked, coolly. "I ain't got northin' left but chawin', an thet's derned pore stuff ter burn."
"Ugh!" grunted the Blackfeet, staring at him in unutterable amazement.
"Hey?" questioned the guide. "Whut did yer say?"
"Where white man come from?" demanded Half Hand, harshly.
"Over yon," was the answer, and Rocks made a sweep of his hand that took in half the horizon.
"What white man want here?"
"Terbacker."
The Indians looked at each other, and then looked at the cool visitor, their amazement not a whit abated.
"Ugh!" they grunted in chorus.
"Wa-al, I'll allow thet you fellers know whut thet means all right," drawled Old Rocks, whimsically; "but dog my cats ef I do! Do I git ther terbacker? ur do I hev ter pull my liver out tryin' ter make chawin' terbacker burn?"
"Ain't got no 'backer," declared Half Hand, sullenly.
"Thet may be so," admitted the guide, "an' may be't'sn't. Howsomever, I don't s'pose I've got any license ter search ye."
He then appealed to the other Indians, but they all affirmed that they did not have a morsel of tobacco in their possession.
"Blamed ef I ever saw sech a pore crowd," grunted Old Rocks. "Wa-al, I'm goin' ter smoke."
He pretended to search round in his pockets, and, after a time, he drew forth a small bit of tobacco, uttering an exclamation of satisfaction.
"Dog my cats ef I ain't got a leetle mite o' smokin' terbacker left, an I 'lowed I wuz all out! I kin git erlong with this yere comfortable like."
He drew his knife, and began whittling at the tobacco, seeming to pay not the least attention to the Indians around him.
The Blackfeet were troubled, for they did not know what to make of the old fellow. Some of them put their heads together and spoke in their own language, but Rocks had sharp ears, and he understood them well enough to get the drift of what they said.
They were wondering if he had come there alone, or if he had companions near.
"Where come from?" Half Hand again asked.
"Over yon," the guide once more replied, with a sweep that was fully as wide as before.
"Ugh! Where others?"
"What others?"
"Others that be with you?"
"Over yon."
Again that wide and baffling sweep of the hand.
Half Hand scowled blackly.
"What white man here for?"
"Terbacker."
Old Rocks was most aggravating in his answers. Hecalmly filled his pipe, and then lighted it with a coal from the fire.
"Thar,"he said, flinging one knee over the other and settling into an easy position, "now I kin enjoy a good squar' smoke."
Up behind the rocks the boy saw Rocks had not taken his rifle into the camp, and Frank knew well enough that was so he might not be incumbered with it if forced to take to flight suddenly and make an attempt to get away with the child.
The little girl heard his voice, and sat up, rubbing her eyes. She stared at him in wonderment, but he still pretended that he did not see her, puffing on.
One of the Indians attempted to grasp the child and draw her back, but she saw him, avoided his hands, and ran to Rocks, crying:
"Oh, I's awsul dlad you've tome! Tate me to my mamma! I don't lite dese drefful mans!"
The Indian made a jump for her, but Old Rocks caught her and swung her beyond the Indian's grasp, exclaiming:
"Hello! hello! Whatever is this yar? Dog my cats ef it ain't a babby—an' a white babby, at thet!"
"Don't you 'member me?" asked Fay, innocently. "I 'members you."
"See hyar, Half Hand," said Old Rocks, grimly; "this yar looks kinder queer. How did you come by this white babby?"
"Found her," sullenly answered the half-blood.
"Is thet so?"
"Ugh."
"Wa-al, whar wuz yer takin' her?"
"Nowhere."
"Seems ter me it didn't look thet way."
The half-blood said nothing, but he and his companions were beginning to finger their weapons.
"You may hev found her all right," admitted Old Rocks; "but yer made a mistake in keepin' her. I'll take her now."
"Dunno 'bout that," muttered Half Hand.
"Whut?"roared the old man, suddenly aroused, having thrust his pipe into his pocket. "You dunno? Wa-al, I will allow thet I know! Look yar, you'll be gittin' inter one o' ther derndest scrapes you ever did ef you tries ter kerry off this yere gal. It'll be reported, an' ther United States soldiers will take an' hang yer all!"
"Bah!" sneered the half-breed. "Who care for soldiers! We find gal; she b'long to us."
"Not much!"
"What white man do?"
"Take her."
"Him can't."
"Dog my cats ef I don't!"
"Him can't git erway."
The Blackfeet had formed a circle about Old Rocks.
"Stiddy, critters!" he warned. "Don't try ter stop me, fer ef yer does, som' o' yer will bite ther dust."
"White man give up gal, we let um go 'thout hurtin'."
"Thet's kind; but I reckons I'll hev ter be hurt, fer I'll never give her up."
"Then white man dies!"
One of the Indians slipped up behind Old Rocks and lifted a hatchet to split open the head of the guide.
Crack! the report of a rifle rang out.
A yell of agony broke from the lips of the Indian, and the hatchet dropped from his hand. A bullet had shattered his forearm.
Frank's aim had been true, and he had saved the life of Old Rocks.
At that instant, just as the guide stooped to lift the child, a man broke through the circle of savages andsnatched up the child, tearing it from the fingers of the guide, to whom he cried:
"Hold them off, and I will get away with her!"
It was the Hermit.
Out came a brace of revolvers in the hands of the weather-tanned guide, and the yells which broke from his lips awoke a hundred echoes. He began shooting to the right and left.
Over the top of the rocks, behind which he had been concealed, Frank was sending a shower of bullets whistling. After the first two shots, he aimed high, counting on demoralizing the savages by terror, instead of taking chances of hitting Old Rocks or the child.
The trick worked long enough for the guide to get away, and he followed close at the heels of the Hermit.
By chance the man with the child passed near Frank, and then Old Rocks came along, shouting:
"Up an' dig, boy! Ther trick is did!"
In a moment Frank dashed after the old man.
The Blackfeet recovered quickly, and they leaped in pursuit, uttering fierce cries.
Old Rocks was surprised by Frank's fleetness on foot.
"Derned ef you can't run, ez well ez do other things!" he muttered, as the lad forged along by his side. "You're a holy wonder, boy. It's twice you saved my life this day. I trusted everything ter you this last time, an' yer didn't fail me."
"I broke the Indian's arm as he was on the point of striking."
"Thet wuz ther only mistake yer made. You oughter broke his head, an' thar'd bin one less. They're arter us hot foot, an it's a race fer life now."