"He's out!" shouted Frank, scrambling down out of his tree.
"I thought I could manage him," said Adam. "Don't you think my plan was the best? But I say, Frank," he added, as he joined our hero at the top of the hill, "we must fire the rifle once, at least, for we want some supper."
"If we could use a bow and arrow as well as the Black Fox, we would not need the rifle. Now, one of us had better stay here, and build a fire in the cave, and gather a supply of wood for the night, while the other goes out and knocks over a big-horn. The mountains about here are full of them."
"Well, seeing that you are the best shot, perhaps you had better go to market. By the time you get back, I will have every thing ready. You are not afraid to go?"
No, Frank was not afraid, but still he did not like the idea of wandering off alone among those mountains. He would have felt much more at his ease if the big-horn had already been killed, and was ready for the spit. Besides the danger of getting lost, there were the outlaws, who might hear the report of his rifle, and pounce down upon him before he could secure his game and make good his retreat to the cave. He and his companion might have gone without their suppers for that night without serious inconvenience, but they were still eighty miles from Fort Benton, and, while they were traveling across the prairie, they might not find any thing to shoot, for the Indians had doubtless frightened away all the game. If Frank succeeded in killing a big-horn, it was their intention to cook it all, and carry with them a supply of the meat sufficient to last them until they reached the fort.
Adam began looking about for dry wood with which to start the fire in the cave, and Frank shouldered his rifle and started down the cliff. He followed the same course which he, and Archie, and the trapper had pursued on a former occasion, when they went out to hunt big-horns, and presently found himself in the ravine in which his cousin had met with his first adventure with a grizzly. Dick had once told him that if the trees in that ravine could speak, they could relate many a thrilling story about him and Bill Lawson; and Frank thought that, if they could find tongues now, they might have something to say concerning himself that would prove interesting.
The deer-path which Frank was following ran through the ravine for about half a mile, and then led down the side of a precipitous cliff, and terminated on a rocky ledge, perhaps twenty-five feet square, in the center of which was a spring of water. When Frank reached the edge of this cliff, he looked over it very cautiously, and was gratified to see, about a hundred feet below him, a noble elk, with wide-spreading antlers, drinking from the spring.
"Our supper is all right," soliloquized the young hunter, after he had taken a good survey of the ledge, and calculated the animal's chances for escape in case he failed to disable him at the first shot. "That ledge juts out into a gorge which is much too wide for any deer to jump. If he tries it, I am sure of him, for he will fall on the rocks and be killed. He can't scale the cliff, unless he comes up the path; and, if he tries that, I'll be here to stop him."
Frank did not usually spend as many minutes in getting ready for a shot as he did on this particular evening. On ordinary occasions, his rifle was at his shoulder the instant the game appeared in sight; and one quick glance along the barrel made him sure of his aim. But this was not an ordinary occasion. He was working for his supper now, there were enemies all around him, and it was rapidly growing dark. He must kill the elk at the first shot, secure a portion of it (the animal was so large and heavy he knew he could not carry it all), and make his way back to the Old Bear's Hole without the loss of a single minute. He raised his rifle and took a long and deliberate aim at the buck, and just then the animal bounded across the spring and came leisurely up the path. For a single second his breast presented a fair mark; but that second was long enough for Frank. The rifle cracked sharply, and the elk, turning in his tracks, made one tremendous bound, and, leaping clear across the ledge, disappeared among the trees which lined the sides of the gorge. Frank's supper was not all right, after all.
"Now just look at that!" he exclaimed, in a tone of great disappointment. "When one is in a hurry, something always happens to trouble him. The deer is dead enough, but what good will he do me as long as he lies at the bottom of the gully?"
As Frank said this, he jumped to his feet, and, running down the path, looked over the ledge. The bushes were so thick that he could not see the bottom of the gorge; but there were drops of blood on the leaves, and Frank knew that the fall had proved fatal to the buck, even if the shot had not. What plan could he contrive to descend into the ravine was the question that troubled him now; and it was one that was asked and answered almost in the same breath. He chanced to look toward the top of the cliff, and was frightened nearly out of his senses when he discovered two Indians advancing toward him with stealthy footsteps. He was now in the same situation in which the elk had been but a moment before, with this slight difference: He was conscious of the presence of his enemies, while the first intimation of danger the buck had was, receiving the ball in his breast. There was no place of concealment on the ledge, and he had his choice between two courses of action: One was to ascend the path in the face of the Indians, and the other to jump over into the ravine. He was not long in coming to a decision. He took a single glance at the Indians, and, seeing that one of them was in the act of raising his gun to take aim at him, he tightened his grasp on his rifle, which he held in his left hand, and seizing with his right the bushes that grew on the edge of the precipice, he fearlessly threw himself into the gorge, while the bullet that was intended for him sped harmlessly through the empty air. The Indian was just a moment too late.
Both savages uttered loud yells of astonishment as they witnessed this act of desperation, and, bounding swiftly down the path, they leaned over the rocks to see what had become of the reckless young hunter. The bushes, by the aid of which he had swung himself over the precipice, sprang back to their place, but Frank was nowhere to be seen. The Indians thought, no doubt, that he had paid for his temerity with his life, and that he was lying mangled and bleeding at the bottom of the gorge; but could they have looked under the overhanging rock on which they were kneeling, they would have seen him standing erect and unharmed about ten feet below them, with his rifle clubbed, ready to strike the first of his foes who came in sight. His attempt at escape was not so reckless as the Indians imagined it to be. While standing on the ledge, he noticed that the branches of a tree, which grew at the bottom of the ravine, extended almost to the top of the precipice, and he thought he could jump into them with perfect safety. Still he hesitated to try it, until he discovered the Indians, and then he found that he had no alternative. To assist him in his descent, and to render the attempt less hazardous, he made use of the bushes, which, contrary to his calculations, swung with him far below the top of the tree, and out of reach of it. This proved, however, to be a point in his favor; for, to his great surprise and delight, he landed on a broad, flat rock, which was effectually concealed from the view of the Indians by the overhanging cliff. It seemed as if this way of escape had been prepared expressly for him. If he had built the cliff himself he could not have devised a better hiding-place. His enemies, even if they discovered him, could not climb up to him from the bottom of the cliff, for it was so steep that a mountain-goat could scarcely have found footing thereon; and if they descended to him from above, he would shoot the first one who came in sight.
"I am all right yet," thought the young hunter, drawing a long breath of relief, and feeling for his powder-horn. "There is only one way in which the Indians can get the better of me, and that is by starving me out. Adam must go without his supper to-night, for I have business on my hands that will——"
Frank paused in his soliloquy, and his face once more grew pale with terror. He could find no ammunition for his rifle. When Adam removed the powder-horn and bullet-pouch from the person of the outlaw, he had thrown them over his own shoulders, and there they were now. Frank had left his companion without thinking to ask for them. He was in something of a predicament, standing, as he was, almost within reach of two hostile Indians, and without even a charge of powder or a bullet for his rifle. A movement at the top of the cliff drew his thoughts from himself to his enemies. They leaned over the precipice and conversed earnestly for a few minutes, and then one of them sprang into the air and landed in the branches of the tree. Fortunately his back was turned toward Frank, and this gave the latter an opportunity to conceal himself, which he quickly did. The savage, little dreaming that the object of his search was so near to him, descended the tree and disappeared among the bushes which lined the sides of the gorge.
While Frank was waiting to see what the other Indian was going to do, he was sure that he heard the sound of a desperate struggle at the bottom of the ravine. It continued but a moment, and then all was still again. He might have been mistaken in this, but still he was certain that something had happened down there, and so was the Indian, who, after waiting nearly ten minutes for the report of his companion, uttered some words in the Indian tongue. An answer came from below, and the savage sprang into the tree and quickly descended to the bottom of the gorge. Frank thought he had gone down to assist in cutting up the buck; but if that was his intention, he did not carry it out. His companion had been tomahawked the moment he reached the foot of the tree, and a like fate was in store for him. Two trappers, one of them in the disguise of an Indian, were concealed among the bushes in the ravine, awaiting his appearance. The wary savage, always on the lookout for danger, discovered his foes, but just a moment too late. The report of a rifle rang through the mountains, and the Indian, falling headlong to the ground, was instantly pounced up by the trappers, and dispatched as if he had been a rabid wolf. Frank's ears told him what had been going on, and his heart beat high with hope. Friends were near, and he was certain that he knew who they were. Without stopping to consider that there might be more Indians in the vicinity, who would be attracted by the sound of his voice, he called out: "Dick Lewis!"
There was silence for a moment, and then came the reply: "Show yourself, you keerless feller!"
Frank, too overjoyed to speak again, was on his feet in an instant, and preparing to descend into the ravine. There was but one way to accomplish this, and that was to spring into the tree. It was a long jump from where he stood, and, if he failed to catch one of the limbs, or if it proved too weak to sustain his weight, he would fall forty or fifty feet. But Frank did not stop to think of this. Grasping his rifle tightly in one hand, he sprang into the air, and, by the aid of a friendly branch, swung down to the body of the tree in safety. In a moment more he was standing between Dick and Bob, who were wringing his hands with an energy that brought the tears to his eyes.
But little time was wasted in explanations. Frank told the trappers that he had left Adam at the Old Bear's Hole, and that he had come out in search of his supper; and Dick told him that he and Bob were traveling through the ravine, on their way to the cave, when they heard the report of the rifle and saw the buck fall over the precipice. They also heard the voices of the Indians on the cliff, and, supposing that they owned the game, and that they would be likely to descend into the ravine to secure it, they concealed themselves in the bushes to await their appearance. The first savage who came down the tree was easily overpowered; and when his companion called out: "Do you see any thing of the white man?" (that was the first intimation the trappers had that there was a white hunter about) Dick replied: "Yes; he's here, but I can't get at him." "That brought the Injun down, you see," said the latter, in conclusion, "an' when he come in sight, we sent him where he'll never get a chance to attack any more peaceable tradin'-posts, I'll bet a hoss. Fetch along the mustang, Bob, an' we'll start for the Ole Bar's Hole."
The horse was brought up, and Frank fairly danced with delight when he found that it was Roderick. The animal recognized his master, and answered his caresses by rubbing his head against his shoulder. Frank sprang upon his back, and the trappers, after they had raised the elk from the ground and placed it before him, led the way toward the cave. It was quite dark when they arrived within sight of it, but Dick knew in an instant that there was something wrong; and so did Bob, who placed his hand on his companion's shoulder and pointed toward the top of the cliff.
"My eyes aint as good as they used to be," said he, "but if that aint an Injun up thar, I never seed one."
"An' if that aint one of Black Bill's mates standin' at the foot of the cliff, may I be shot!" added Dick.
"Then they've tracked us, after all the trouble we took to throw them off our trail!" whispered Frank, in great excitement. "Who knows but that they have captured Adam?"
"If they have, we'll soon turn him loose," replied Dick. "Now, youngster, you stay here, an' me an' Bob will creep up an' take a look at things. If thar aint nobody in the cave except Black Bill an' his friends, we'll clean 'em out in a hurry. We've got a long account to settle with one of them fellers, an' this is jest the time to do it."
The trappers stole off in the darkness, and Frank sat on his horse and awaited the issue of events with feelings that can not be described. He saw Dick and Bob creep noiselessly upon the outlaw who stood at the foot of the cliff, and seize, gag, and bind him; and so silently was the whole operation performed, in spite of the man's furious struggles, that he did not hear even a leaf rustle. One enemy had been disposed of; but there were still three others, besides the Indian, to be overcome.
"If I had a load for my rifle I wouldn't sit here long," said Frank, to himself. "I know there will be a desperate fight in that cave if Black Bill is there, and perhaps just one bullet may be needed to decide the battle in our favor. What in the world was that?"
A thin sheet of flame, followed by a dense volume of smoke, suddenly arose from the mouth of the upper passage-way. The moment's silence that succeeded was broken by cries of pain and loud yells of anger, and through the smoke, which settled like a cloud over the cliff, the Indian appeared, running at the top of his speed, as if badly frightened at something, and directing his course toward a thicket of bushes at the opposite side of the ravine. The thought that it was the Black Fox had scarcely passed through Frank's mind when he discovered that there were two horses tied to the bushes, and that the Indian was running toward them, evidently with the intention of mounting one of them and making good his escape. Frank leaned forward to obtain a better view of the animals, and, in a moment more, the elk had been pitched to the ground, and Roderick was flying down the ravine with the speed of the wind.
"Stop, you Black Fox!" shouted Frank, swinging his rifle around his head and giving vent to a yell that awoke the echoes far and near. "I've got something to say about this business."
One of the horses was Pete, and the other was King James. While Roderick had been faithfully serving the trappers—he had carried Dick Lewis through that desperate hand-to-hand fight at the fort, and, like him, escaped without a single injury—his swift rival had been equally faithful to one of the outlaws. Black Bill had captured him from one of the soldiers during the fight, and, recognizing Dick's massive form among the struggling horsemen, he had made every exertion to come to close quarters with him. Roderick moved so swiftly, however, that the black could not overtake him; and perhaps that was a fortunate thing for the outlaw, if he had only known it. While Dick was cutting his way through the ranks of the Indians, he was keeping a bright lookout for Black Bill, and if he could have found him, and brought him within reach of the cavalry saber which he was wielding with such telling effect, he would have put a sudden stop to his career of depredation. Pete had carried Black Bill many a long mile since his master last saw him; but now he seemed in a fair way to fall into the hands of his rightful owner.
"Stop, I tell you!" shouted Frank, again. "You are at the end of your rope now, my hearty."
The young Indian heard the order, but paid no attention to it. He ran directly to the horses, and, springing upon King James's back, cut the lasso, with which he was tied, with his knife, and went tearing down the ravine, with Frank in hot pursuit. The time had come now to decide the question which had been so long in dispute. This was to be a fair race, and Frank wished his cousin had been there to witness it, for he was sure of a victory.
A few of Roderick's long bounds carried him through the willows and out on the prairie, where Frank discovered the Indian, almost a hundred yards distant, lying flat along his horse's neck, one hand twisted in his mane, and the other swinging the lasso, which he now and then brought down on the black's side with a sounding whack. Roderick seemed to know what was expected of him, for he increased his speed the moment he emerged from the willows, and then the race began in earnest. The gray gained from the start, and rapidly, too; and, before half a mile had been accomplished, Frank was so close to the object of his pursuit that he leaned forward to catch him by the scalp-lock.
"I guess you'll stop now, Indian!" he exclaimed. "Well, it makes no difference to me which way you take it, on foot or on horseback, for I can beat you."
The Indian, for once, was a little too quick for Frank. Slipping like an eel out of his grasp, he threw himself from his horse without attempting to check his headlong speed, and, landing safely on his feet, started back toward the willows. Frank was on the ground almost at the same instant; and then began another race, which, like the one that had come off the day before at the Indian camp, was decided in favor of the fleet-footed young hunter. The Black Fox, however, was desperate to the last; and, after the race, a fight ensued. One quick, determined blow with the rifle knocked the knife from the savage's hand; but that was not the end of the matter—it was only the beginning of it. The young warrior's strength and agility seemed to have increased wonderfully since their last meeting, and the struggle, which continued at least ten minutes, was decided only by Frank's superior powers of endurance. He came off with flying colors; and when he helped his prisoner to his feet, his arms were fastened behind his back with his own belt.
For a quarter of an hour after Frank left him, Adam worked industriously, collecting a supply of wood for the fire, which he piled at the entrance to the passage-way. The next thing to be done was to ascertain whether or not the cave was a safe place for them to camp during the night. One enemy had been dislodged by the smoke, but there might be others in there for all he knew. The only way to find out was to go in and see; and this Adam prepared to do.
Having satisfied himself that his knife and hatchet were safe in his belt, he grasped a lighted pine-knot in one hand to serve as a torch, and holding in the other the bow, and half a dozen arrows which he had selected from the quiver, he crawled down into the passage-way. The thought that he was about to enter the cave which, but a few minutes before, had been the home of a panther, made him tremble so violently that the torch shook in his hand. He worked his way along very slowly and cautiously, stopping every few feet to examine the ground before him, and finally reached the foot of the passage-way without having discovered any thing at which to be alarmed. There was the panther's bed on the withered hemlock boughs which, in days gone by, had served Dick and Bill Lawson for a couch; but the panther himself was gone. The cave appeared to be empty, but it was not so in reality. Had Adam raised his torch above his head and examined the sides of the cavern closely, he would have discovered something crouching behind a projecting rock, about ten feet above the floor of the cave, and might have seen the eyes which glared down at him through the darkness.
"This will do nicely," said Adam to himself. "There is a little too much smoke in here just now for comfort, but that will soon pass out. If the outlaws track us here, and come in at one of the passage-ways, we can go out at the other; and if they surround us, so that we can't get out at all, we can climb up the sides of the cave and hide among those rocks."
So saying, Adam began making preparations for the night. He threw down his weapons, stuck his torch into the ground, and ascended out of the cave to bring down the wood which he had collected. In a few minutes a fire was blazing brightly in the center of the Old Bear's Hole (the passage that led to the top of the hill answered all the purposes of a chimney), a quantity of wood sufficient to keep it burning all night was piled in one corner, and Adam sat on the hemlock boughs whittling out some spits on which to cook the supper when Frank brought it in. All this while that dark object behind the rocks had been looking down at him, closely watching every move he made.
When the spits were finished, Adam went out of the cave to look for Frank. He began to think that if the big-horns were as plenty about there as his friend had represented them to be, he was a long time in finding one. His impatience soon gave way to anxiety; and when at last it grew quite dark, and Frank did not make his appearance, he became alarmed. He could not go out to look for him, for he did not know the direction in which he had gone; and, besides, he might get bewildered in the darkness, and be unable to find his way back to the cave. For two hours he kept watch at the top of the hill—as Dick, years before, had kept watch for the return of Bill Lawson—listening in vain for the sound of Frank's footsteps, and then he reluctantly came to the conclusion that he was destined to pass the night alone and supperless. He did not mind the loss of his supper so much, but he knew he would be lonesome down there in that gloomy cavern, with no one to talk to. He felt the need of companionship; and, more than that, he was harassed by the fear that Frank had fallen into some danger.
"There is but one thing that I can do," he soliloquized, "and that is to wait until daylight and follow his trail. I'll never make another step toward Fort Benton until I know what has become of him. It would be a cowardly piece of business in me to desert him, after what he has done for me."
Adam's first care was to make his camp secure against any visitors he might chance to have during the night. The bright fire which was burning in the cave, and which shone out at the mouth of the passage-way, lighting up the bushes all around, was just the thing to keep off four-footed enemies, but it might serve to guide the outlaws, whom he feared more than bears or panthers, to his place of retreat. The light must be covered; and that could be easily done, for there was the log which the trappers had more than once used to conceal this entrance to the Old Bear's Hole. Adam rolled it close to the opening, and, after listening again to make sure that Frank was not approaching, he backed down into the passage-way and pulled the log over it, leaving only a small opening for the passage of smoke.
For the next half hour Adam was miserable enough. He lay upon the boughs, gazing into the fire and thinking over his adventures, now and then raising his head to listen for Frank's footsteps—once or twice almost certain that he heard his voice—and finally he fell into an uneasy slumber. When he awoke, it was with a start and a presentiment of evil. He knew he heard a voice now, but it was not Frank's voice. Starting up in alarm, he grasped the bow which lay close at his side, and looked up the passage-way in the direction from which the voice came. A cold sweat started out all over him, and he trembled in every limb when he saw that the log which he had placed over the opening had been removed, and that two men were leaning over it, peering down into the cave. The fire had burned out, leaving only a bed of smoldering coals; consequently it was dark in the Old Bear's Hole, and Adam was sure the men could not see him, although he could observe every move they made, and could even distinguish their features. The men were Black Bill and his friends.
"Wal, I reckon we've run yer cubs to earth at last," said a gruff voice. "They're thar easy enough, 'cause I can see a fire an' smell smoke."
"Yes," assented Black Bill, "they're thar, an' we'll jest go down an' fetch 'em out."
"Mebbe it aint them at all," said another of the outlaws. "P'raps it's Dick Lewis and Bob Kelly."
"No, I reckon it aint nobody but the boys," replied Black Bill. "Haint we follered their trail all the way, an' did we see any signs of Dick and Bob? Say, you, Adam, an' you other feller!" he shouted, "we've got you, an' you can jest give up without any fussin' or foolin'. Hear me, don't you?"
Adam did hear him. He thought he could have heard that stentorian voice very distinctly if he had been half a mile distant; but he did not make any reply. He was well satisfied of one thing, and that was that Black Bill, boldly as he spoke, was in no hurry to enter the cave. The latter could not forget that the boys had possession of his rifle and ammunition; and, from what he had seen of them, he did not think it likely that they would hesitate to use the weapon in an emergency. This view of the case was confirmed by the next words the outlaw uttered.
"You needn't keep so still down thar!" he shouted. "We've got you fast enough, an' if you don't hand up that rifle an' come up out o' that, it'll be wuss fur you."
If the outlaws had known that Adam was alone in the cave, and that the rifle they so much dreaded was a long way from there, they would not have spent many minutes in settling matters. They waited and listened for a reply, and then Adam saw Black Bill's burly form darken the opening. He was tired of waiting for Adam; and since the latter would not come up, he had decided to go down after him. The boy saw that it was high time he was doing something.
"Hallo, up there!" he exclaimed, as if he had just awakened from a sound sleep; "who's that? Frank, Dick, Bob, wake up! There's somebody coming down the passage-way."
By the time these words were spoken, there was no one in the passage-way, or even in sight. Black Bill had crawled back to the top of the hill with all possible speed. He believed now that his man was right in his conjectures—that the trappers, of whom he stood so much in fear, were in the cave with the boys, and that it would not be quite safe for him to go among them. He said nothing until he had rolled the log over the opening, thus putting it out of the power of his enemies to ascend out of the cave to attack him, even should they feel so disposed, and then he exclaimed, in an exultant tone:
"We've got you all jest where we want you. It wont take us long to settle up our accounts. Thar won't be enough of you left to go on another tradin' expedition by the time we are done with you."
During the next ten minutes Adam sat on his bed of boughs, listening intently, and wondering what would come next. The outlaws were holding a consultation. He could hear them conversing in low tones, but could not understand what they said. After a long and earnest debate, they seemed to have come to some decision, for the sound of their voices ceased, and Adam heard them moving down the hill. The next sound that reached his ears came through the lower passage-way—a rustling sound, as if some one was crawling toward the cave; but Adam knew it was not that. He was well aware that the outlaws could not be induced to enter the Old Bear's Hole as long as they supposed that Dick and Bob were there, for there was not one among them who was brave enough to meet either of the trappers in a fair contest. They had determined to compel them to come out of their hiding-place, so that they could overpower them by their superior numbers. In order to accomplish this, they adopted the same plan to which the boys had resorted to drive out the panther. But Adam was not a wild animal, to be frightened out of his snug harboring-place by a little smoke. He thought he knew how to beat the outlaws at their own game; and, while they were employed in filling the passage-way with leaves and pine-knots, he went to work to stop the draft so that the fire would not burn. The lower passage-way, where it entered the cave, was about two feet square; and it was a matter of but little difficulty for him to close the opening by cramming the hemlock boughs into it. When the work was done, he surveyed it with a smile of satisfaction, and told himself that the outlaws would have a fine time smoking him out.
Having finished the task of blocking up the passage-way, Adam spread his hunting-shirt upon the ground, and began cutting the garment into strips with his knife. The pieces, when tied together, formed a rope about fifteen feet in length; and in one end of it was a running noose. Adam then threw a pine-knot upon the fire, and when it blazed up so that he could distinguish objects in the cave, he coiled the rope in his hand, and, after one or two failures, succeeded in throwing the noose around a projecting point of rock about ten feet above his head. As the noose settled down over the rock, something glided from behind it, and stole noiselessly up the side of the cave; but Adam did not see it. It was dark up there, and he was too deeply interested in his work to notice any thing. In order to make sure that the rope was strong enough to sustain his weight, he ascended it hand-over-hand, and climbed upon the rock.
"This is just the place," said he, to himself. "Black Bill will not be long in finding out that I am alone here, and then, of course, he will come in. I can't whip him and his three mates, so when I see him coming, I will climb up the rope, and hide behind this rock. He'll never discover me, unless he comes up here; and if he tries that I'll begin to fight. I'll show him that he's got a nephew who isn't afraid of him, if he is an outlaw and a desperado."
Adam slid down the rope again, and busied himself in collecting his weapons, and getting every thing in readiness, so that when the time came for him to retreat, he could ascend to his hiding-place without an instant's delay. Then, for the first time, he discovered that Frank had gone off without any ammunition for his rifle. The powder-horn and bullet-pouch were still hanging over his shoulder, where they had been ever since he and Frank escaped from the outlaws. How careless they had both been! What a reckless piece of business it was for a hunter to go off alone in the mountains, with only one load in his rifle! Frank might have run into some danger from which a single extra charge of powder would have saved him. But no amount of regrets could now place the ammunition in his friend's hands; and after a few seconds reflection, Adam thought that perhaps what had been Frank's loss might be his gain—that the powder, at least, might be made to serve him a good turn. An idea came into his head, and no sooner was it conceived than he set about putting it into execution. Stepping to the place where the upper passage-way opened into the cave, he pulled the stopper from the powder-horn, and poured nearly all its contents in a pile upon the rocks. With that which was left in the horn, he laid a train from the pile to the middle of the cave. When he had done this, he felt greatly encouraged. He believed that if he had a few more pounds of powder, and a supply of provisions and water, he could hold the Old Bear's Hole against all the enemies Black Bill could bring against it.
While Adam was thus employed on the inside of the cave, the outlaws were equally busy on the outside. They had filled the passage-way with leaves, and after a fire had been started in them, Black Bill and two of his men went up the hill to tell the occupants of the cave what they had done, and to demand their surrender. The outlaws had left some one at the upper passage-way to watch it during their absence. It was the Black Fox, who, shortly after his fight with Frank, had found and joined Black Bill's party. He had a piece of news to communicate to the outlaws, and that was that Adam was alone in the cave. He had kept a close watch down the passage-way, and had seen Adam moving about—it was so dark that he could not tell what he was doing—and he had seen no one else. He did not believe that Dick and Bob were down there, and, after Black Bill had listened to his story, he did not believe it either. With angry haste he pulled away the log which he had rolled over the mouth of the passage-way, and shouted:
"You Adam Brent! You can't fool me no longer. I know jest how the matter stands; you're alone down thar. Pass up that rifle an' come out, or I'll be down arter you."
Adam, as before, had nothing to say until the outlaw, enraged at his silence, began making preparations to descend into the cave; and then he called out:
"Black Bill, can you hear what I say?"
"Do you hear whatIsay?" asked the outlaw, in reply. "Come up out o' that."
"Listen to me," said Adam. "We are not going up there——"
"We!" interrupted the outlaw; "thar aint nobody down thar but you. If Dick an' Bob are in the cave, why don't they speak?"
"Their rifles will speak sooner than you care to hear them. We are all ready for you, and the first man who comes down here will be blown in pieces. We've got something that you don't know any thing about."
Adam knew, by the silence which followed, that his words had not been without their effect upon the outlaws. They were cowards at heart, and they dreaded to face an unknown danger. They talked together in a low tone for a few minutes, and then Black Bill began to descend into the cave, his actions indicating that he was thoroughly in earnest this time, and that there was to be no backing out, no matter what perils he might encounter.
"Stop!" shouted Adam, who plainly saw that something was going to happen. He was standing near the fire, holding in his hand one of the spits on which he had intended to cook his supper. He was ready to put it to a different use now, for one end of it was blazing, and he stood within reach of the train of powder. "Stop!" he repeated, in a still louder tone. "I am not going to be captured again, and I give you fair warning that, if you come into this cave, I will blow you up. Don't come a step nearer."
Black Bill was too angry to heed the warning. He growled out a savage reply, and came on down the passage-way, followed by both his companions. It required the exercise of all the courage Adam possessed to stand there and await their approach, but he did it; and when Black Bill was directly over the pile of powder, he threw his burning spit upon the train. There was a quick flash which lighted up the interior of the Old Bear's Hole as bright as noon-day, and a great volume of smoke arose and filled the cavern. For an instant there was silence in the cave; then a frightful yell rang through the passage-way, followed by a volley of oaths, and threats of vengeance that made Adam's blood run cold. He had all the while been aware that the powder was not sufficient in quantity to do the outlaws any great damage. He had hoped that it would frighten them, but it had a directly opposite effect. They were almost beside themselves with rage now, especially Black Bill, who had suffered more severely than either of his companions. When he came into the cave he carried his knife in his hand, and was in just the humor to use it upon something.
"Start up this fire, one of you, an' give us a light here," said he, in a voice choked with passion. "Jack, watch that hole, an' be sure that he don't slip by you."
The smoke which filled the cave soon passed out; and when the wood, which had been thrown upon the fire, blazed up so that the outlaws could distinguish objects about them, they were not a little amazed to find that the Old Bear's Hole was empty. Their plucky enemy, who, alone and unaided, had held them at bay for more than an hour, had disappeared. Adam was where he could see them, however, and he took particular notice of the outlaws' faces. Black Bill's eye-brows had disappeared altogether, and so had his whiskers and moustache. His 'coon-skin cap and hunting-shirt were badly burned, and his face was blacker than ever from the effects of the powder. His two companions had also suffered severely, and Adam did not wonder that they were angry.
"Where is he?" exclaimed Black Bill, in great perplexity. "He couldn't have gone out through this other hole, 'cause it's stopped up. Ah! I see where he is. Come down out o' that."
The outlaw was looking straight at the bowlder behind which Adam was concealed; but the latter, knowing that he had not discovered him, kept perfectly quiet. He had made up his mind to fight in earnest now, and was ready to give his enemies a warm reception, if they attempted to drag him from his hiding-place.
"I haint agoin' to waste no more words with you," said Black Bill, savagely. "I'll snake you down from thar, an' split your wizzen fur you; that's what I'll do."
The outlaw placed his knife between his teeth, and snatching one of the pine knots from the fire, began the ascent of the rocks. As they were almost perpendicular, that was a task of some difficulty; but, with the assistance of his men, he was at last able to grasp the bowlder, and draw himself up until he could look over it. Adam was there. He was lying flat on his back with his bow drawn, and the moment the outlaw's head appeared in view, he discharged an arrow at him. The missile passed through his cap, and sent it whirling to the floor.
"Here you are!" shouted Black Bill. "You'll never have a chance to draw an arrer or any thing else on me agin."
Adam knew by the expression he saw on the outlaw's face, that he had something worse than captivity to fear now. His enemy swung himself over the bowlder, and was on the point of springing down upon the boy, when his movements were arrested by a savage growl which seemed to come from the rocks directly over his head. The next instant a dark object bounded through the air, and alighting on Black Bill's shoulders, fastened its teeth in his throat, and fell with him headlong to the ground. Adam saw it as it passed over him, and knew that it was a panther—the mate to the one he had smoked out of the cave.
Let us now return to Archie, whom we left in Black Bill's wigwam. He was very much disheartened at the result of his cousin's bold attempt to release him, but knowing that it was useless to repine, or to attempt resistance, he submitted to his fate with all the fortitude he could command, and allowed the outlaw to bind him hand and foot.
"You said I couldn't keep you pris'ner, didn't you?" said Black Bill, fiercely; "now I'm goin' to show you. If you can break that buckskin, you're a hoss."
"I don't see what you want with me, anyhow," returned Archie. "I am not Adam Brent, and, more than that, I never saw or heard of him until three days ago."
"Keep your breath to cool your porridge," said the outlaw, as he stretched himself on a pile of skins near his prisoner, "'cause it aint no 'arthly use to waste it in talkin' to me. I'm too ole a 'coon to let a boy like you pull the wool over my eyes. Don't I know that nose of your'n, an' that har, an' that black face? I could pick you out among a million. Now, I am goin' to sleep, an' you had better do the same."
This command was uttered in a very savage tone of voice, and Archie, knowing that it would be the height of folly to enrage the outlaw by disregarding his wishes, turned over on his bed to find an easy position, and held his peace; but sleep for him was quite out of the question. Black Bill slept, however, and snored lustily for half an hour; and then he suddenly awoke and started up with an ejaculation of wonder. Almost at the same instant a yell rang out on the air, followed by the report of a rifle, which brought the outlaw to his feet in great haste.
"What's the matter out there?" asked Archie, who speedily became aware that there was something unusual going on in the camp.
"We're attacked!" exclaimed Black Bill, in great excitement. "Them fellers at the fort are either mighty reckless, or else they've got help from somewhere. They're pitchin' into us, that's sartin."
As the outlaw spoke, the report of a volley of fire-arms rang through the ravine, followed by yells, and the hurrying of feet outside the lodge. Black Bill tore open the door, and looking out, began a rapid conversation with some one. It proved to be the Black Fox, who came in, and hastily untying Archie's feet, grasped him by the collar, and hurried him out of the lodge. Black Bill caught him up in his arms as he came out, and placed him upon the back of a mustang, which was standing in front of the door; after which the young Indian seized the bridle, and led the animal off at a rapid trot.
As soon as Archie had time to look about him, he found that the outlaw had not been mistaken in his conjectures. The confusion in the camp was increasing every moment. The reports of the rifles rang out louder and clearer, showing that the attacking party was gaining ground rapidly; men, women, and children, surprised and terrified by the suddenness of the assault, ran through the village in all directions, some with packs on their backs containing their household goods, others empty-handed, and too intent on making good their escape to think of any thing else, and all hurrying at the best of their speed toward the mountains. The flames were already ascending from the lower end of the village, and by the light which they gave out, Archie discovered that the attacking party was composed of trappers, and that they were coming directly toward him, sweeping every thing before them. The hope that they would see and recognize him was short-lived; for the Black Fox plunged at once into the midst of the flying crowd, and a very few minutes sufficed for him to conduct his prisoner into the woods.
The fight at the village, if such it could be called, was over almost as soon as it began. The trappers, whose only desire was to release Dick Lewis, passed rapidly through the camp, looking in vain for the object of their search, and then turned and retreated toward the fort, thus extinguishing the last spark of hope which their appearance had raised in the breast of the prisoner. Scarcely had their shouts died away in the distance, when a chorus of yells arose in another direction; and the retreating Indians, one and all, faced about, and hurried back to the camp. Those yells produced a great change in them, for their terror gave away instantly to the wildest delight, which they expressed in all possible ways. The Black Fox, who still held fast to the horse on which Archie was mounted, shouted until he was too hoarse to speak plainly, and then triumphantly announced:
"More Indian coming. Burn fort now, sure."
When Archie arrived within sight of the camp, his heart stood still, and he trembled for the safety of his friends at the trading-post. A cloud of braves in war-costume—five hundred of them at least—was moving through the burning village in the direction the trappers had gone—the horses running at the top of their speed, and their riders swinging their weapons around their heads, and yelling like madmen. These were the reinforcements the chief had been expecting; and now that they had arrived, Archie knew that the attack on the fort would not be long delayed. It was commenced that very hour; and when it was over, some one brought him tidings of the result.
When the reinforcements had passed out of sight, the Indians who had fled before the trappers ran into the village, and busied themselves in pulling down the wigwams to stay the progress of the flames. This was a matter in which the Black Fox was not interested. He had no property to save, but he had a prisoner to watch, and to this duty he gave his whole attention. Stopping in the edge of the woods, he tied the mustang to a tree, and seizing Archie by the shoulders, pulled him rather roughly to the ground; after which he spread his blanket on the leaves, and settled into a comfortable position to observe what was going on in the village. He was very talkative, and entertained his captive with a glowing description of the manner in which the Indians would overcome the garrison, and the way they would dispose of their prisoners; but finding that Archie was in no humor to listen to him, he finally relapsed into silence.
At the end of two hours—two long, dreary hours they were, during which Archie was a prey to the most gloomy thoughts—he was aroused from a reverie into which he had fallen, by the movements of the Black Fox, who jumped to his feet, and gazed earnestly toward a group of warriors who had just emerged from the ravine. Archie thought they acted very strangely. Some of them walked with feeble, tottering steps, as if they scarcely possessed the strength to retain an upright position, while others reeled about like drunken men. He looked toward the young Indian for an explanation.
"Much hurt," said the latter; then, fearing that his prisoner might not understand him, he struck himself on various parts of his body with his hand, raised his bow to his shoulder as if it had been a gun, and imitated the motions a person would make in using a saber. From this Archie knew that the warriors had been wounded, and that they had received their injuries during the battle at the fort. This was enough to put him into a fever of suspense. He wanted to know if the Indians had been successful, and he wished some of the braves would tell him; but they did not seem disposed to do any thing of the kind. They did not even notice their friends, but threw themselves upon the ground, and wrapping their blankets around their heads, suffered in silence.
"Which side whipped?" asked Archie, at length.
"Indian," replied the Black Fox.
"How do you know?"
"O, Indian always whip white man."
"No, Indian doesn't. He gets thrashed sometimes, and badly, too. He couldn't whip the trappers who set fire to that camp, a little while ago."
The young savage did not appear to be in a mood to discuss the matter, and Archie, with his feelings worked up to the highest pitch of excitement, twisted about uneasily, and waited to see if there were any prisoners brought in. The wounded Indians, in the meantime came in rapidly, and in a few minutes there were so many disabled warriors lying about him, that Archie began to believe that the fight had resulted in a decided victory for the defenders of the fort. Among the wounded savages was one who attracted Archie's attention; and if he had been a white man, or even a friendly Indian, he would have felt the keenest sympathy for his distress. He was a tall, broad-shouldered, powerful-looking fellow, badly injured, if one might judge by the looks of his face, and the pain occasioned by his wounds seemed to be so intense that he could neither sit, lie, nor stand still, even for a moment. He would seat himself on the ground, and rock back and forth for awhile, then stretch out at full length, and thrash about uneasily, and finally spring to his feet, and look around for another resting-place. At length he walked rapidly toward the Black Fox, who, thinking that it might not be quite safe to trust himself within reach of a man driven nearly frantic with pain, jumped up, and retreated a few steps. This seemed to be just what the wounded man wanted; for he took possession of the young Indian's blanket, and, wrapping it around his head, lay down upon the ground.
If the owner of the blanket was angry, he did not show it. He stood looking at the warrior a moment, and then an idea occurred to him which he announced to Archie in his broken English. There was no danger that the latter would escape while the Indians were all around him, he said, and he would go to the village and make some inquiries concerning the fight. It might be well for Archie to keep perfectly quiet during his absence, he added, for there was the wounded Indian, who was in just the right mood to hurt somebody.
"Don't be uneasy," replied Archie. "Go and get some information about that fight, and hurry back; for I want to know which whipped. I'll wager my rifle against your bow and arrows that you Indians were completely cleaned out."
When the young warrior had disappeared, Archie, not knowing what else to do with himself, lay down on the ground to await his return, looking over his shoulder occasionally at the wounded Indian, who began to kick about worse than ever.
"It serves you just right," said the prisoner. "What had those people at the fort done to you, that you wanted to kill them? Perhaps you will learn to let peaceable white settlers alone in future."
"I don't reckon I ever done any harm to peaceable white fellers," said a familiar voice, from under the blanket. "Lay down, you keerless feller!" it added quickly, as Archie started up in amazement; "lay down, or you'll spile every thing."
Archie, for a moment too astonished to speak, fell back upon the ground again, and, as he did so, he felt the cold blade of a hunting-knife pressed against his hands. The thongs of buckskin with which he was confined gave away, one after the other, under its keen edge, and in a few seconds he was free.
"Dick, is that really you?" he whispered, as soon as he had recovered the use of his tongue.
"I don't reckon it's any body else."
"How did you get so badly hurt?"
"Hurt!" repeated the trapper; "I aint no more hurt nor you be. This aint the fust time you've been fooled to-night, is it? I've been through a heap since I seed the sun set, but I can out-run and out-fight the best Injun in this tribe yet. I haint got no time to waste in talkin', howsomever. We're licked, the tradin'-post is burned up, an' the only thing we can do is to make tracks for Fort Benton. Creep into them bushes, an' keep in 'em till you get around to the other side of the camp; then strike off through the mountains, an' go straight south. The moon is up now, an' you can tell the pints of the compass from that. Arter you have gone about two miles from the camp, you will strike the ole wagon trail—it aint traveled now, but it is a good, plain road, an' you can't miss it—which you must foller till you reach the prairy."
"I might get lost," whispered Archie. "Why can't you go with me?"
"'Cause I can't leave ole Bob," was the reply. "He's a pris'ner now, an' I'm goin' to stay here till I see a chance to turn him loose. You can't get lost if you do as I tell you. When you reach the prairy, travel straight north fur about ten miles, an' you will come to the Ole Bar's Hole. If me an' Bob are alive, we'll be thar to-morrer night; but if we shouldn't come then, don't wait fur us, but strike out fur Fort Benton, which is exactly north-east of the Ole Bar's Hole. Now be off afore that young Injun comes back."
"But, Dick," persisted Archie, "I don't want to leave Frank."
"Who axed you to leave him? Ole Bob sent him safe out of camp long ago."
Dick jumped to his feet and staggered off in the direction of the village, and Archie, after looking all around him to see that there was no one observing his movements, crept into the bushes. When he reached them, he arose to an upright position, and hurried along with all possible speed, keeping in the edge of the ravine, as Dick had directed. How long it was before the Black Fox discovered his escape and what he said, and what he did, when he found that his prisoner had slipped through his fingers, Archie never knew. He heard no tumult behind him, nor any sounds of pursuit; and neither did he meet any of the Indians during the two hours he stumbled about through the darkness, picking his way over rocks and logs toward the old wagon trail of which Dick had spoken. He reached it in safety, and then his progress became more easy and rapid.
The road, being overhung by cliffs and trees, was, in some places, pitch dark; but Archie found but little difficulty in following it. He ran along, forgetful of every thing except that there were Indians and outlaws behind him, never giving a thought to the grizzly bears, panthers, and other savage animals with which the mountains abounded, and thinking only of the foes he had left in the ravine, and of the Old Bear's Hole, where he hoped to meet the trappers. Alone in the mountains, on foot, and entirely unarmed, his situation was far from being an encouraging one; but Archie had a happy faculty of looking at the bright side of things.
Dick had told him that the trail was not traveled now, but Archie found that he was mistaken; for, when he had gone about two miles, he came suddenly around the base of a mountain, and found before him a long row of camp-fires, and wagons drawn up on each side of the road. He was startled by the unexpected sight, and his first impulse was to turn and take to his heels; but a closer glance satisfied him that he had stumbled upon the camp of a party of emigrants. That same glance showed him also that an attempt at retreat might prove extremely hazardous; for, standing in front of the nearest fire was a man who hailed him the moment he came in sight, and covered him with his rifle.
"Who's that?" asked the emigrant, in some alarm.
"A friend!" replied Archie. "Don't shoot."
"Come up to the fire, friend, and let's have a look at you," said the man. "Why, what's the matter with you? You are as white as a sheet."
"Perhaps you would be white, too, if you had passed through what I have to-night."
"And you are panting as though you had been running," continued the emigrant. "Where's your horse and your gun? and what are you doing out here alone in the mountains, at this time of night?"
"It's a long story, and I can't stop to relate it to you. You have made your camp in a very dangerous place, if you only knew it, and my advice is to hitch up and start for Fort Benton with as little delay as possible. There are hostile Indians all around you."
"Indians!" cried the emigrant. He stepped back, and, dropping the butt of his rifle to the ground, leaned on the muzzle of the weapon and looked earnestly at Archie, while several men who were lying near the fire on their blankets, and who had been awakened by the conversation, raised themselves on their elbows and began to listen more attentively.
"Where is Fort Benton, and why should we go there? We want to go to Fort Stockton."
"Well, you will never see it. It was burned by Indians not more than three hours ago, and the most of the garrison were massacred. The savages may come along this road in less than twenty minutes."
If Archie had never created a sensation before, he could certainly boast of having made one now. It seemed to him, from the commotion that ensued, that every person in the train had heard his words. Exclamations of wonder and alarm arose on all sides: men began running about, some yoking their oxen and harnessing their mules, others crowding around Archie and asking innumerable questions which they did not give him time to answer; horses pranced and snorted; dogs barked; children cried; women screamed and thrust their heads out of the wagons to see what was going on; and in a moment the camp, which had been so quiet and peaceful when Archie first discovered it, was in the greatest uproar.
"Why, boy, you're crazy!" exclaimed one of the emigrants, when Archie had hurriedly related his story. "I don't believe a word you say. You've been asleep, and dreamed it all."
"Am I asleep now?" retorted Archie. "Look at my wrists. Do you dream that you see those marks on them? They were made by the strips of buckskin with which I was tied."
"Didn't they tell us at Fort Alexander that there wasn't a hostile Indian on the plains?" asked another.
"Very likely they did, sir; and no doubt they thought so. I have been living within sight of a camp of Indians for the last three days, and I didn't know they were preparing to go on the war-trail; but they were, and I have passed a portion of this night as a prisoner among those same Indians."
"But suppose they do attack us? we've got twenty men."
"There were almost seven times as many in Fort Stockton, and yet the Indians captured it. If you are tired of life, you can stay here; but as I desire to live awhile longer, I shall go on."
Archie did go on, but he did not go alone; the entire train went with him. Among the emigrants there were many who had never crossed the plains before, and who were terrified by the simple mention of the words "hostile Indians." These prepared to turn back at once; and the others, not caring to be left behind, accompanied them.
"Is there any one here who can spare me a horse and rifle?" asked Archie. "I have tramped about among these mountains until I am completely tired out; and I have no weapon except a pocket-knife."
Archie was standing near a wagon occupied by an invalid, who had listened to his story with blanched cheeks. When he made this request, the man said, in a trembling voice:
"You don't look as though you were strong enough to handle a gun but if you are, here's one at your service."
"I don't want to take this, sir, unless you have other weapons," said Archie, who, anxious as he was to have some means of defense in his hands, was not selfish enough to disregard the comfort or safety of others.
"I have a brace of revolvers," replied the man; "but that thing is of no use to me, for I never fired a gun in my life. You will find my horse picketed with the others—a large chestnut-sorrel, with white mane and tail. The saddle and bridle are in the front of the wagon."
Archie thanked the man cordially, and wondering where he had lived all his life that he had never learned to use a rifle, he took the saddle and bridle from the wagon and started out to find the horse.
Never before had Archie seen a wagon-train prepared for the march in so short a space of time. Every thing was done in a hurry, and, in less than five minutes, some of the emigrants were moving down the road toward the prairie. He noticed, also, that now that the excitement and alarm occasioned by the intelligence he had brought had somewhat subsided, silence reigned in the camp. Not a loud word was heard. The men moved about their work as silently as specters, and spoke to their animals in whispers; the screams had ceased, the children had stopped crying, and all seemed to understand the necessity of making as little noise as possible. The horses, too, seemed to comprehend the situation, for there were no prancing or restless ones among them; and even the wagons moved off with a subdued creaking of their huge wheels.
When Archie had found and saddled his horse, he began looking about for the captain of the train. He had something to say to him.
Archie had a plan to propose to the wagon-master, and that was that the train should be conducted first to the Old Bear's Hole, and then to Fort Benton. He thought this would be much safer than to attempt a long journey across the plains. The Indians would certainly pass over that road in going from their camp to attack the settlers on the prairie; and it was equally certain that they would discover and follow the trail left by the wagons. If the emigrants were overtaken in the open country, they could offer but a feeble resistance; but if they intrenched themselves in the cave, they could hold any number of their foes at bay. Archie explained this plan to the captain when he found him, and, to his utter amazement, it was rejected without an instant's hesitation.
"I've done nothing but lead wagon trains across these prairies for the last two years," said the man. "I've made a business of it; but I never before heard any thing about Indians on the war trail. You've well-nigh frightened the whole train to death by your cock-and-a-bull story; and, since the emigrants are bound to turn back, I shall take them to Fort Alexander."
"Why, that's farther off than Fort Benton!" exclaimed Archie. "It must be two hundred miles from here."
"No difference if it's a thousand. I don't know the way to Benton, but I could go to Alexander if I was blindfolded. And another thing: wouldn't I look well trusting my own life, and the lives of these people, to a boy like you! I don't believe you ever saw an Indian."
"I've seen more of them than you ever did," replied Archie, indignantly, "and I have had more experience with them, if I am from the States. Mark my words: Before morning, you will wish you had taken my advice."
Archie left the captain and fell back to the wagon of the invalid. "I am much obliged to you, sir, for the use of your horse and rifle," said he, "but I must return them now. The wagon-master is about to undertake a journey of two hundred miles across the prairie; and, as I don't think it a safe piece of business, I am going to leave the train and start off on my own hook."
"Hold on!" exclaimed the man, as Archie dismounted to tie the horse to the wagon. "Where are you going?"
Archie unfolded his plan again for the benefit of the invalid, adding that, as the wagon-master had not seen fit to adopt it, it was his intention to go alone to the Old Bear's Hole, and, if he did not find Dick and Bob there, to strike for Fort Benton. The invalid listened attentively, and, when the boy ceased speaking, announced that it was his determination to accompany him. This was something that Archie had not counted on, and he did not know whether to be disappointed or delighted. The prospect of a lonely journey of ninety miles, through a country infested with hostile Indians, even though there was a bare possibility that he might meet the trappers at the Old Bear's Hole, was by no means a cheering one; and he would have been glad of almost any company except this invalid. If the latter accompanied him, he would, of course, go in his wagon, and that was an arrangement the boy did not like. Its white cover could be seen at a long distance, dark as it was, and if there were any Indians about it would be certain to attract their attention, in which case Archie, to save his own life, would be obliged to leave the helpless emigrant to shift for himself.
"You will let me go with you?" said the invalid, seeing that Archie hesitated.
"That is a matter which you must decide, sir," was the reply. "I do not expect to reach the fort without trouble; and whether or not you will be safer with me than with the train, is a question which I can not take the responsibility of answering."
"I will answer it for myself: I shall go with you."
Upon hearing this, the invalid's teamster, who had sat listening to the conversation, pulled up his horses with a jerk, and, hastily collecting the articles in the wagon which belonged to him, jumped to the ground.
"What's the matter out there?" asked the owner of the wagon. "Why don't you go on?"
"'Cause I am done with you; that's why," replied the teamster, gruffly. "If you are goin' into any sich business as this—philanderin' off over the prairy with that fool of a boy, who will lose you an' himself into the bargain in less'n twenty minutes arter you git out of sight of the train—you can jest drive your own wagon. I am goin' to stay with the emigrants, where I know I am safe."
Every little trouble seems a mountain to a sick person, and when the invalid heard this, he covered his face with his hands and cried like a child. As the teamster was about to move off, he looked up and said, piteously:
"Mike, don't leave me. Remember that I can't help myself, and that I must have some one to defend me if we get into trouble."
"I reckon my life is worth as much to me as your'n is to you," was the rejoinder.
"Don't go yet, Mike; hear what I have to say," continued the invalid. "I have twenty thousand dollars in hard money in this wagon, and if you will go with me, and stick to me until we reach Fort Benton, I will give you one-fourth of it—five thousand dollars. You will certainly run less risk in traveling ninety miles than in going two hundred."
The teamster stopped, and, walking slowly back to the wagon, looked down at the ground in a brown study. Archie, who had watched his face closely, noticed that he listened with indifference to the invalid's appeals to his pity, but at the mention of the twenty thousand dollars, the expression of unconcern on his face gave way to a look of astonishment, and he began to listen more eagerly. This made it plain enough to Archie that, if the man consented to accompany the wagon, it would not be out of any desire to respect the wishes of his employer, or to protect him if he fell into danger, but simply to earn the money that had been promised him.
"If I had twenty thousand dollars, or twenty cents, about me, I should be very careful not to mention the fact in the presence of such a man as he is," said Archie, to himself. "He is a villain—I can see it in his eye; and I hope he will decide to remain with the train. I should feel quite as much at ease among the Indians as I should with him for company."
"You will not leave me, Mike," said the invalid, in a pleading voice. "Didn't I find you in the streets of St. Joseph in a destitute condition, and haven't I fed, clothed, and paid you well since you have been with me? Drive me to Fort Benton, and the five thousand dollars are yours."
"Wal, Mr. Brecker, you have treated me mighty kind, that's a fact; and, now that I think of it, it would be mean in me to desert you. But I don't want to go alone—this boy would be of no account if we should happen to fall into trouble; and, if I can get company, I'll stick by you."
The teamster, without waiting to hear the invalid's profuse thanks, threw his bundle into the wagon and hurried down the road out of sight. He returned in a few minutes, accompanied by a rough, reckless-looking man, with whom he was conversing earnestly. They stopped at a short distance from the wagon, and Archie, who was listening intently, overheard a portion of their conversation. Mike was urging the man to accompany his employer's wagon, and the latter was holding back through fear of the Indians.
"I tell you thar aint no Injuns on the prairy," said the teamster. "That boy don't know what he's talkin' about. The wagon-master says so, and so does every body else in the train, except Brecker, and he's a fool. It'll be the best job you ever done. Twenty thousand dollars aint picked off every bush nowadays."
Archie pricked up his ears when he heard this. The invalid had offered his teamster but five thousand dollars for driving the wagon to Fort Benton, and yet the man was talking as though he had promised him the whole twenty thousand. Archie began to get excited, and believed that the best thing Mr. Brecker could do would be to remain with the wagon train.
"Are you sure that you can depend upon that man?" he inquired, addressing himself to the invalid.
"Who—Mike? Certainly. He is an honest fellow, and I would trust him with my life. Why do you ask that question?"
Archie did not think it best to give a direct answer. The invalid was frightened nearly out of his senses already, and the boy had no desire to increase his alarm by revealing the suspicions that had suddenly arisen in his mind. If Mr. Brecker was willing to trust himself and his twenty thousand dollars on the prairie under the protection of the teamster, it was really no concern of his. If Mikewasan honest man, however, he was certainly keeping bad company, and Archie thought it might be a good plan to keep his eyes open and be prepared for any emergency. He was sure that something exciting would happen during the ride to the Old Bear's Hole. While he was thinking the matter over, the two men approached the wagon, and Mike introduced the new-comer as his friend Bob Frost, an old guide and Indian fighter.
"He is just the man we want," said the invalid. "I shall feel safe now."
"In course you can feel safe," replied Frost, with a braggadocio air that made Archie put him down as a coward at once. "Thar aint Injuns enough on the prairy to skeer me. I'll take you through to Fort Benton without no trouble. 'Taint wuth while to have that ar youngster taggin' arter us, though," he added, glancing at Archie.
"Why, he will show us where to go," replied Mr. Brecker.
"We don't need him, and he can't go," said Frost, decidedly. "I know the way to Fort Benton better nor he does."
"I don't see how my presence will interfere with you in any way," said Archie. "It was I who first proposed Fort Benton as a place of refuge, and I shall go there, whether you are willing or not."
Frost had an overbearing air about him, and an insolent way of talking that Archie did not like, and he thought he might as well give him to understand that he was not under his control, and that he should do as he pleased. When the man was about to reply, Mike interrupted him. The two conversed in a low tone for a few minutes, and then sprang into the wagon and drove after the train, which was by this time out of sight in the darkness. In half an hour they reached the prairie, and, leaving the road, the teamster turned to the left and drove along the edge of the willows toward the Old Bear's Hole.
The cover of the wagon was open at both ends, and Archie could see every move the men made. They drove rapidly for awhile, and then, allowing the horses to settle down into a slow walk, entered into an earnest conversation. The invalid tossed about uneasily on his bed, now and then raising the cover of the wagon, and looking out over the prairie to satisfy himself that there were no savages in sight, and, becoming impatient at length, desired the teamster to drive faster.
"'Taint safe," said Frost, who seemed to have taken the management of affairs into his own hands. "The faster we go the more the wheels rattle; an' if thar are any Injuns about, the noise will lead them to us. I say, youngster! Mebbe it would be a good plan fur you to ride on ahead, an' see if the way is clear."
Now, this was something that Archie had no intention of doing. He had already marked out the course he intended to pursue, and one thing he had determined upon was, that he would not for a moment lose sight of the teamster and his friend. He thought too much of his own safety, and, besides, he wanted to be at hand to protect the invalid; for he was sure that he would need somebody's protection before many minutes more had passed over his head. He knew, as well as if had been explained to him in so many words, that the men had determined to take possession of the twenty thousand dollars, and that the guide's suggestion, that he should ride on in advance, was but a plan to get rid of him. Perhaps, the moment his back was turned, Frost would send a ball into him; or, it might be, that it was his intention to lose him in the darkness, and then dispatch the invalid and rob the wagon. Archie did not know which of these two courses of action the men had decided upon, but he was resolved that neither of them should prove successful.
"Did you hear what I said, youngster?" exclaimed Frost, angrily.
"Oh yes, I heard you."
"Then why don't you start—why don't you obey orders?"
"Well, I have two reasons. In the first place, I do not recognize your right to give any orders; and, even if I did, I should pay no attention to them, as long as you issue them in that insolent tone of voice. In the next place, if it is all the same to you, I prefer to ride behind."
"Then you can stay behind. You can jest toddle back to the wagon train."
"I am not going that way. My route lies in this direction."
"Wal, then, travel on ahead," roared the guide, growing angrier every moment. "We don't want you hangin' about us no longer."