But the path which he had made in his panther-like progress was clear and open, and he could dart backward in an instant and seize it; and so, hesitating but a few seconds, he resumed his advance, with the determination that, at the most, he should not go more than a yard further—just enough to pass through an unusually matted mass of vegetation, that feebly barred in his progress.
One step further, and both hands sunk into a cavity in the ground, a couple of feet in depth—so suddenly and unexpectedly that he pitched head-foremost, making a terrible breaking and threshing of the shrubbery.
Harry was not hurt in the least, but he was almost paralyzed with terror; for he was certain that the whole camp must be alarmed, and the Blackfeet would be swarming around his head before he could rise or make any attempt to retreat.
He did not seek to do so, but lay still, listening with a throbbing heart, and conjuring all manner of dreadful consequences that were sure to follow this mishap upon his part. As a matter of course he lamented his rashness, with the most bitter feelings, but it was all useless now, and he lay still, with a grim resolve to take the punishment unflinchingly.
A few seconds only had passed, when he heard footsteps, but to his surprise, instead of being in front, they were in the rear. Some one was approaching from that direction!
Like a flash he thought of his gun, and of the supremely silly thing he had done in placing it beyond his reach. As he was about to scramble forth in an attempt to reach it before his enemy, it occurred to him that it might be Old Ruff, who was searching for him. He would have preferred almost to have seen a Blackfoot, rather than be caught in this dilemma by the trapper, for the latter, discovering his foolhardiness this early in the business, would be certain to lose all patience with him, and send him on to the fort, while he continued the hunt alone.
The poor lad was in a sad predicament, not daring to move from where he was, in either direction; for to retreat would only bring him face to face with the Blackfoot, if such he were, and to advance would be to throw himself into the hands of the whole party.
“And if he catches me here,” he reflected, in the intensity of his chagrin, “he will find me without any weapon except the knife and telescope,” and he added, with something of his natural drollery, “there is no need of my looking through the glass to bring the danger any nearer, or to make it appear any bigger; for it is too near and too big already.”
The extreme slowness of the party approaching him satisfied Harry that it must be an Indian scout, who may have been on the look-out for just such interlopers as he.
At the same time he thought the red-skin was making an unusual racket, for such a proceeding. He could hear the motion of the feet—soft and heavy—and the bending and breaking of the shrubbery beneath his passage, as though he was taking no pains to hide his approach.
“What’s the use of it?” he reflected; “he knows he’s got a sure thing of it.”
By this time he gave up all hope or fear of its being old Robsart, and was certain that it was one of the dreaded Indians, who, knowing that there was no escape for the lad, was toying and trifling with him, as a cat toys with a mouse before devouring it.
In the intensity of his fear in this direction, Harry forgot all about the camp in front, and had no time to wonder at the continued silence in that direction, a circumstance which would have struck him as very strange, under the circumstances.
The crackling and treading of the undergrowth continued, and the suspense soon became greater than the actual coming of the danger itself would be.
“As I don’t see any way out of the scrape,” he thought, “I may as well end it one way or the other, and so I will meet it.”
He had a faint hope, too, that by stealing along on the ground, he might secure his rifle in time to make a fight for his life.
Accordingly he started with the same care and caution that had marked his approach to the camp.
A half-dozen feet were passed in this manner, and then he paused, stupefied with wonder, amazement and absolute terror!
For of all the strange sights and experiences that he had encountered in this country, of all that had been his during his past life, he never had seen any thing that could compare with that which now greeted his vision!
As Harry Northend crept out from beneath the matted undergrowth, that surrounded the Blackfoot camp, and came in view of his rifle, where he had left it lying upon the ground, he saw not Old Ruff Robsart, nor a repulsive Indian, but a grizzly bear.
And not such a bear as naturalists and hunters tell us about, of a black or tawny color, but somethingsui generis—something such as he was sure no mortal had ever heard of before, or was ever to hear of again.
For, instead of being of the midnight hue that universally characterizes his species, this one was striped with green and blue and red from head to tail!
As soon as the lad had recovered in a degree his self-possession, he rubbed his eyes and looked again, doubting whether he had seen aright.
Yes; there was no mistake about it. There was the creature, the conformation of his head and body proving that he was a genuine grizzly bear beyond all question, and the only remarkable thing about him was his color, and that surely was remarkable enough.
“I have heard of men seeing such things as that,” he mused, as, crouching on his hands and knees, he riveted his eyes upon it, “but it was always when they were drunk, and I am sure I have never been in that condition, and never shall be.”
The bear was of rather large size, but not unusually so, but the lad judged from his appearance that he was very fierce and savage, and, in his way, was probably as dangerous as a half-dozen red-skins.
His alarm would have been somewhat less had the position of the creature been such as to afford him a hope of securing his gun; but, as matters stood, that was clearly out of the question.
For the mottled grizzly was snuffing and clawing the weapon as if he had some curiosity to find out its use.
“I wonder whether he thinks he knows how to use it,” muttered Harry, as he slowly sunk down upon his face, in the hope of escaping his eye. “If he did know how to handle a rifle, I couldn’t be more astonished than I am at the color of his coat. Hedoesact as if he understood what it is for.”
The bear poked the barrel and stock around with his nose, then rattled his long claws over it, as though he was not exactly satisfied with its appearance. When Harry saw that it lay so that the muzzle pointed directly at him, he concluded that the danger was getting too serious and complicated for him to remain idle.
Indians between him and the river, a grizzly bear before his face, and a loaded rifle pointed straight at his head, with very strong chances of its being discharged by the clumsy clawing and scratching of the brute.
“I think I’ll back a little nearer the camp,” he concluded, “for if I can get down in that hollow again, the bullet will pass over my head, and the monster may miss seeing me altogether, until I can get further out the way, if that nose of his don’t scent me out, or if his brains don’t tell him that when he comes upon a gun like that, in these parts, the owner isn’t apt to be far off.”
But the movement made by Harry caught the ear of the bear, who raised his head as quick as a flash, and, catching sight of him, he “went for him.”
The boy was only fairly ensconced in the cavity alluded to, and had turned to see whether he could maintain his invisibility, when he saw the frightful monster almost upon him.
In the presence of this threatened immediate death, it was natural that the boy should run into the other danger, and with a howl of terror, he sprung up from the ground and struck straight for the Blackfoot camp, preferring in theflurry of the moment to run into their embrace than to remain and take a hug from the bear.
Only a few leaps, and he landed directly in the open space, where the red-skins, a short time before, had partaken of their meal.
But, not one was to be seen. The fire was still burning, but all had departed.
Harry paused a single instant, looking about with an inquiring stare, and then, hearing the bear directly behind him, he made a dash forward, and catching up one of the sticks that was still burning, he circled it swiftly over his head, fanning it into a blaze, and with this potent weapon he turned about to face his foe.
It was a fortunate thought in the young man, for the bravest wild animal can never screw up his courage to the point of advancing straight upon fire; but for all that such a precaution was unnecessary.
Harry had scarcely placed himself upon the defensive, when he heard something very much like a laugh, immediately behind him; but he did not dare turn his head in the presence of this horrible creature.
The bear instead of halting before the blazing brand, seemed to be on the point of advancing straight upon the boy, when the latter, holding the flaming brand before him, turned the tables, by moving directly toward him.
This checked the bear, and at the same instant that familiar laugh struck upon the ear of Harry, followed by the words:
“Throw down yer candle! He won’t hurt you! Ain’t he a booty?”
That was the voice of Old Ruff Robsart and no mistake. The boy hardly dared to turn his head to see, but the trapper made it unnecessary, by walking forward and placing himself directly beside him.
As he did so, he reached out, and taking the torch from his hand flung it away, and then gave out a peculiar whistle.
Instantly the bear came forward, lumbering awkwardly, but with many indications of pleasure at the sound of the hunter’s voice, who continued addressing him by pet names until he was within reach, when he patted him familiarlyupon his head, and at another signal or command, the mottled phenomenon rose upon its haunches, moving its fore-legs like the flippers of a turtle, while its large hazel eyes were fixed upon Old Ruff, with an expression almost human in its intelligence.
By this time Harry Northend had gotten the suspicion that the trapper and this speckled wonder were old acquaintances. They surely met as such, and their conduct continued to give color to the suspicion.
“Bless your old heart!” exclaimed the trapper, advancing and throwing his arms about the hairy neck of the bear, “next to my little pet, I’d rather meet you than any other critter that tramps the woods. You look as though you’d got along purty well sence I gave you a leave of absence, last fall.”
While the two old friends were engaged in their fraternal demonstrations, Harry concluded to slip around and secure his gun. That would be only prudent, while he had great fear that old Robsart would discover his inexcusably defenseless condition.
He saw that strange and unnatural as the animal looked, there was nothing to be feared from it, and he passed within arm’s length of it, into the wood from which it had emerged but a few minutes before, and a few steps brought him to his gun, lying unharmed upon the ground.
Hastily catching this up, he lost no time in rejoining the two friends—human and brute—that were fraternizing upon the deserted camp-ground.
“Where in the name of the Seven Wonders did that creature come from?” he asked, as he saw the old hunter leaning on his rifle contemplating what was evidently a great pet. The face of the trapper was expanded with a fearful grin, while he occasionally shook in a way that showed he was stirred by mirth.
“That ’ere critter is what I call Speckled Beauty! I cotched him five years ago, when he war a little cub. He allers had a good temper, and I fotched him up and made him one of the best-tamed critters I ever saw. Old Griz’ Adams never had a neater critter, and Little Rifle—why she and that b’ar war great cronies, I tell you.”
“But that color!” exclaimed Harry, “surely that is not natural! If it is, he is worth a very fortune to you!”
“No, in course not; hair don’t grow green and blue even on a grizzly bear. I had that critter so well-tamed that he was just like a dog. He used to go off on a hunt for three or four days at a time, but was always sure to come back ag’in. He wa’n’t of much use to me, and so I let him go and come as he chose, and when I hadn’t nothin’ better to do, I used to wrastle and tumble with him and teach him tricks.”
“But, I am anxious to hear how he gained such a coat as that?”
Old Ruff laughed as he replied:
“Last summer I was in at the fort, to take ’em some antelope-meat, that I had promised, when one of these long-nosed, genuine Yankees come in. He was on the look-out for something to make money of, no matter what it was, and when he see’d my b’ar prancing around, he proposed that we should go into partnership, and show him around through the States; but I told him one b’ar wasn’t enough to travel on, and then he said that he’d fix him. He had a lot of dyes and paints with him that he said he had got up on a patent of his own, and was going to sell to the Injins, and he painted up the b’ar in high style. The dye was the genuine stuff, for though the b’ar was as black as jet it took hold, and made him a purtier color than you see him now, ’cause you know he has shed a good deal of his coat sence then.
“The idee of this chap was to take him round the country showing him off as a phenomenon, but I see’d that he thought it was such a big spec’ that he wanted to have the whole job in his own hands—so I told him to take him and go.
“He promised to send me half his profits, but I knowed that if he got away with the b’ar I’d never see either of ’em ag’in.
“But, I reckon he didn’t get fur away, fur the next day the Speckled Beauty come back lookin’ fur me and Little Rifle. He had the seat of the Yankee’s trowsers in his mouth, and so I made up my mind that they’d had a falling out. I left the fort that day, but I l’arned that the Yankee come in the next day to get a new seat to his breeches, and left for Fr’isco, swearin’ thar wa’n’t any chance for an honest man tomake a living in these parts. Since that time, Speckled Beauty has been trampin’ the woods as he pleases, but he seems to have got weaned away. I s’pose ’cause he’s come arter us so often, without findin’ me or Little Pet at home.”
All this was very entertaining, especially when “Speckled Beauty,” the hero of the tale, was before the listener, prancing and cavorting, as though he appreciated the compliments of the old mountaineer, but Harry could not forget the fact that their errand was to discover Little Rifle, of whose fate as yet they had not gained the slightest inkling.
“But, Uncle Ruff, what ofher? Have you no good news to tell me?”
He sobered on the instant the question was asked, and shook his head.
“I’m afeard not. You see I had an idee that Maquesa was at the head of this party, and, as soon as I got in good range of ’em, I laid down and watched. I counted ’em over a half-dozen times, and found thar war just eight. But the old codger wasn’t among ’em. To make sarten, I waited in the bushes till they all got aboard and shoved off, thinkin’ p’raps Maquesa was somewhar out of sight; but he warn’t, and then I started to hunt you up, and found you and Speckled Beauty, waltzin’ ’round the camp-ground.”
“Suppose you had seen the Blackfoot chief,” inquired Harry, “suppose you had discovered that he was at the head of this little party, what clew would that have given you? What would such a fact have told you about Little Rifle?”
“I had an idee that if I seen him, I’d see the gal too. If them varmints hadn’t looked so mighty ugly, I’d gone in among ’em, and axed about the health of Maquesa, and l’arned whether he’d been seen in these parts lately, but it didn’t look as though thar war much show fur me. Still I believe thatthat varmint is at the bottom of this business, and the fust thing I’m going to l’arn is whether he’s been seen in this neighborhood. If he has he’s the roo-ter we’re going fur.”
“Uncle Ruff,” said Harry, as a bright idea struck him, “isn’t there some way in which we can turn this bear to account? It seems to me that such a strange, wonderful-looking animal would scare any Indian out of his wits.”
“That’s what I’ve used him fur,” replied the bear-tamer. “These Blackfeet don’t know much about hair-dye and such stuff, though they can paint up their faces, and when they see Speckled Beauty they’re apt to think he’s something of a spirit. Ef he’ll only scarethemas much as he does these younkers that go snoopin’ ’round Injin camps, they’ll never git over it, as long as they live.”
Harry could but “acknowledge the corn,” pleading as an excuse that any one unacquainted with Speckled Beauty could not look upon him without agitation.
Old Ruff then announced his intention of continuing the pursuit of these red-skins toward the Cascade Range, as he had strong reason to suspect that they would be joined by Maquesa before they advanced much further.
Harry was unable to understand what his reasons were for this persistent belief, but he knew he was too clear-headed to follow any phantom, and that there was good cause to expect tangible results from such a course.
But, there remained the trifling difficulty already alluded to. This course was taking them further and further away from the fort, and the old hunter could not consent that the lad should accompany him, until he had received the permission of his father.
This necessitated quite adetour, and the loss of much valuable time; but happily this necessity was averted by the unexpected appearance of Mr. Northend himself.
While the two were talking, they heard voices, and the next moment three men emerged to view. All were mounted upon horses, and one was a hunter and guide well known to old Robsart, who instantly went forward to greet him, while Harry hurried up to salute his parent.
Considerable time was passed before a full understanding all round was reached. Mr. Northend, under the guidance ofMatt Muggs, a noted scout, was making a sort of tour with a friend through this part of Oregon, in the interests of the Missouri Fur Company, and was now on his way back to Fort Abercrombie, with the intention of soon leaving there for home by way of San Francisco.
It required considerable persuasion before he would give his consent for his son to go off on what he termed this “wild-goose expedition,” but he finally gave in, and, after some further exchange of friendly converse, and the acceptance of quite a sum of money upon the part of the boy, in order to defray all possible expenses, the two parties were about separating to go their respective ways, when old Robsart, noticing that the trio had come by a route that must have given them a view of the river, asked Matt whether he had seen any thing of a party of Blackfeet within the last hour.
“I reckon,” was the instant response; “thar’s a party of ’em less nor a mile off in thar boats, steerin’ straight for the kenyon in the mountains. As they was a-comin’ from this way you must have see’d the same skunks, Ruff?”
“So we did,” replied the hunter; “them’s the coves we’re follerin’. Did you count ’em, Matt?”
“Allers does that, when I kin git a fair squint at ’em. They war in two canoes, and thar war just ten of ’em—”
“What?” demanded old Robsart in great excitement, “sure of that, Matt?”
“I reckon I kin count ten, ef I can’t count any more, and I ciphered up them skunks twice, as I had an all-fired notion of takin’ a crack at one of ’em. Howsumever, you can ax Mr. Farrell, or Northend here, ’cause they seen ’em too.”
“Yes,” replied the latter gentleman, “I remember distinctly that Matt remarked that there were ten, upon which I counted them and found that he was right. But, why are you so deeply interested in this particular party?” asked Northend, as he reined up his horse.
“’Cause I think that little pet that I’m arter is among ’em, that’s all. I don’t s’pose you noticed, Matt, if the old chief Maquesa was with ’em?”
“No,” answered the hunter, “they war just fur enough off for me to see fairly, and I wa’n’t thinkin’ ’bout nothin’ of the kind, or I’d tuk a little closer peep on your account. If youthink the little gal is among ’em you’d better be off with your Speckled Beauty.”
The three horsemen paused for some time to watch the curiously colored animal, as it went prancing and lumbering after its master, and when it was out of sight, they resumed their progress toward the fort.
“Just what I thought,” exclaimed Old Ruff, in some excitement, as soon as they were alone; “the pet is thar, and she and Maquesa make up the extra two, that Matt spoke about.”
“But, where did they join the party?”
“Somewhar further ’long, and I b’lieve now,” continued the mountaineer in his emphatic way, “that the whole caboodle of ’em have come over here after Little Rifle. Maquesa has l’arned somethin’ that has made him s’pect the gal that was left in his charge is the same one that I’ve been bringin’ up, and he’s come over the mountains in s’arch of her.”
“All that looks reasonable,” replied Harry, “but I haven’t heard or thought of any thing yet that can make me understand the course of Little Rifle in the business.Thatis the mystery which passes my comprehension.”
A troubled look crossed the face of the hunter, and he stared earnestly in the countenance of the lad for a moment, and then asked in a low voice:
“Shall I tell you what it means?”
“If you can?” replied Harry, intensely eager to hear his explanation.
“Wal, I can—I can see it all; I know more ’bout the pet than you do, and it all come to me why she left you in that style, when you war asleep by the camp-fire.”
Harry Northend stared wonderingly at the hunter, as if he doubted his sanity. But the old man was never in clearer mood, and he was in dead earnest. But now, when the very words seemed trembling upon his tongue, he hesitated, as if unwilling to pronounce them. He appeared indeed to control his emotions only by the strongest effort.
Harry waited, wondering what the words would be; but they came not, and the trapper, who had partly paused in his walk, now walked faster, as if seeking to get away from some exceedingly painful recollection.
Under any other circumstances, the lad would have respected this embarrassment upon the part of his friend; but, where Little Rifle was concerned, he was unwilling to do so, and he put the question direct.
“What is it that you were going to say about our lost friend? You have raised my curiosity, and I hope it wasn’t merely for the purpose of tantalizing it by a refusal to reveal what it is you know.”
Robsart was silent a moment, and then he spoke briefly but with much feeling.
“No; I didn’t do it fur that, younker, fur I think too much of you—but I was in too much of a hurry when I spoke; I can’t tell you yit; the time will come after awhile; wait till then; I won’t forgit.”
There was no refusing such a request as this, much as it distressed Harry to do so. He resolved that he would make no further reference to the matter until the trapper, in his own good time, should see fit to make clear the mysterious references that had escaped his lips.
The great purpose now was to overhaul the Blackfoot party before they got beyond their reach. This seemed easy enough, as they had no cause to fear pursuit, and their quite lengthy halt for dinner looked as if they intended to continue their journey in a very leisurely manner.
True they had their canoes, and if they chose they could easily maintain a speed that would carry them much more swiftly than their pursuers, but they were not likely to do so, for the simple reason, that there was no occasion (at least in their estimation) for such haste, and Maquesa was not a chief who was accustomed to run away from an enemy, even when he was more powerful than he.
And so, making all haste, the two continued down the banks of the river, moving almost due westward, until they struck another elevation which gave them an extended view of the river flowing away before them. And to their delight they saw the two canoes about half a mile distant, paddling along with a tardy deliberation, that showed they thought and cared little for all who might choose to follow them.
In an instant, Old Ruff had Harry’s telescope to his eye. In a moment his face lit up and he passed it back again with:
“Take a squint at that front canoe, and tell me what you see.”
And the boy looked and saw beyond all mistake, that Little Rifle was sitting in the forward canoe!
The vision as told by the field-glass could but inspire both Old Ruff and Harry Northend with the liveliest hope and enthusiasm.
Again and again they looked through the instrument, although the first glance had shown them Little Rifle’s identity beyond all question.
Her size and dress, and general appearance, so distinct from that of the Blackfeet by which she was surrounded, made it impossible to mistake her. The trapper was almost equally positive, that the form immediately next to her was that of the chief Maquesa—although in this, his conclusion was hardly based upon what the glass revealed, but upon his own knowledge and previous supposition of the Indian’s part in the abduction of the girl.
Passing the telescope back to Harry, the two instantly resumed their pursuit of the canoes, the mottled grizzly following them with the same dog-like fondness and obedience, now and then lumbering out of sight, but never for any length of time.
The hopeful enthusiasm of the two friends was somewhat modified by the fact that the afternoon was almost gone, and the Blackfeet appeared to be paddling with greater speed than they had used heretofore.
Unless they came ashore to encamp for the night, there was indeed little probability of their being overtaken. Old Robsart, who had horses at the fort, was more than once inclined to procure them for use in the pursuit. He would not have hesitated to do so, had the Blackfeet themselves beenmounted, or had he believed there was any prospect of his being permitted to choose his own route.
But his purpose was to keep close upon the trail of Maquesa, in case he should secure it, and this could only be done by traveling afoot or by using a boat.
A good many miles still intervened between where they stood and the kenyon of the river, and nothing just now would have been more welcome than a canoe, with which he could not only proceed much faster, but which would also give the legs of himself and Harry a good rest—a desirable thing, so far at least as the latter was concerned.
Believing there was good prospect of finding one, he kept close to the river, on the alert, cautioning the boy to do the same. The latter was afraid that by this means they would become hopelessly separated from the bear, but the old man showed his confidence in the sagacity of the creature, by declaring that he would not permit himself to be lost by such means.
As they came down from their elevated position, they naturally lost sight of the canoes, and Harry could hardly repress his impatience lest they should fail altogether in finding them again; but the trapper, as he moved on with his long, loping strides, seemed as cool and confident of the issue as if he were only making a round of his traps.
The nature of the ground compelled them to leave the river at intervals, but never long enough to make them feel that there was any danger of their passing on beyond the Blackfeet without discovering them.
The sun went down, and twilight told of the coming of darkness, but still, although our friends were close upon the margin of the swiftly flowing stream, nothing was to be seen either of the canoes or of their camp-fire.
Despite the excitement that had kept up the spirits of Harry, it was impossible that he should maintain this gait without growing weary. He felt that he could not maintain it much longer, but still he hurried forward, determined not to give up so long as he could keep his legs, and prevent himself from falling behind his tireless companion.
“Helloa! here it is!” suddenly exclaimed Old Ruff, as he abruptly halted. “Just the thing I’ve been looking fur allthe arternoon. Now, my boy, you can rest them pegs of yourn, fur I know they can’t stand this sort of thing much longer.”
As he spoke, he stooped down, and lifted from the ground directly before him, one of those small, delicately framed Indian canoes, which are intended to carry but a single person, but which, in case of emergency, are capable of floating a couple.
Glad enough was the boy to ensconce himself in the stern, where, nestling down in as comfortable a position as he could assume, he felt that he could remain a week at least, before he would long to indulge in pedestrianism again.
Robsart flung him the heavy Indian blanket, which he always carried with him when on his travels, and told him to rest while he could, for there was no telling how long the opportunity would be his, and then taking the long, flat paddle in hand, he made ready to turn to the best account the chance that was given him.
Speckled Beauty stood on the edge of the shore as they pushed off, and gave utterance to a whine or rather growl like the mastiff, who is begging his master to take him along. The trapper replied in a language which, if not understood by Harry Northend, seemed to be comprehended by the brute—who instantly began following them down-stream, until he was hid by the intervening gloom.
“He won’t give it up so,” laughed Old Ruff, “but I’ll warrant you when we land, he’ll be close by and won’t wait long afore showing himself.”
The trapper felt the need of haste, and he now used the paddle with all the power and skill of which he was master. The current was quite rapid, the stream being narrow and deep, and the light canoe seemed to speed over the surface like a swallow.
There was a chilliness in the air, and gathering the thick blanket about him, Harry lay back, too tired to sleep, but so utterly used up, that he wished the Blackfeet would keep up their rowing for several hours yet, so that by the time they halted, he would be in a better condition to do something. He was sure that he was useless for the present.
Although the old hunter said little, he understood the conditionof the lad, and he hoped very much the same as he did. He let him alone, wishing that he would fall asleep, for he very justly mistrusted his ability to cope with the physical requirements before him.
The sky was clear, and the moon was not likely to rise until later. The trapper continued his powerful sweeps of the paddle, his purpose being to make the distance between himself and the Blackfeet as small as was prudent, when he could slacken his gait, and prolong the pursuit all through the night if necessary.
Fully five miles were passed in this manner, the stream frequently making such short curves that he held up, fearful that he might betray himself to his foes. As yet he had seen and heard nothing of them, when as he rounded a rocky headland, he abruptly paused and listened.
“Do you hear any thing, younker?” he asked, holding the paddle suspended in hand.
There was no answer, even after he had repeated the question.
“Poor chap, he’s asleep!” concluded the trapper, “and I’m glad of it. I shan’t wake him till I have to. He’s full of pluck and nerve, but he ain’t used to this business; he’s got to get older afore he kin stand it as well as me. I don’t know much ’bout such things, but I think he loves that gal, and she feels sorter the same toward him. I don’t know what he’d think if I’d tell him why she left his camp the other night. He’s got to find it out some time, and I won’t distress him by tellin’ him until I can’t put it off any longer. ’Sh!”
As he listened, he heard faintly but distinctly the sound of paddles. His experienced ear enabled him to tell that two canoes were only a short distance ahead, so there could be no reasonable doubt but that he was close in the rear of the Blackfeet party.
“I wonder ef they’re going to keep it up all night?” was the next thought of Old Ruff; “ef they are, I kin paddle as well as them, but then it ain’t going to give me much chance to get a word with Little Rifle, and it will sorter bother the brains of Speckled Beauty to keep the hang of things. But he’s smart, and has done ’cuter things than that, in his time.”
He did not forget to handle his own paddle with all the care possible, for the most awkward consequences might follow a discovery upon the part of Maquesa that some one was following him.
In the still, calm night, sound was conveyed some distance with wonderful distinctness. To the casual ear, the red-skins were no more than a hundred yards distant, but he knew that triple that breadth of water separated them, and he was enabled to judge also the exact speed with which they were progressing.
The trapper had no wish to lessen this space, and he took good care not to do so. His wish was that they would land, and give him a chance to bring things to an issue.
Once he was filled with misgiving, when, as he paused to listen, he was unable to catch the slightest sound of their paddles. He concluded at once that he had betrayed himself, and Maquesa had given the word for his warriors to halt until their pursuer should come up and place himself in their power.
Old Robsart was not the man to do this, and he halted, too, holding his paddle ready to send his boat back again with its arrow-like speed.
“Ef they want a race, I’m ready,” he concluded, “and I’ll make a present of my scalp to any red-skin kin cotch me in a fair canoe-chase.”
But it was apparently some other cause that had produced this temporary cessation in their paddling, for the next minute it was resumed with the same regular sweep as before.
The trapper permitted his boat to remain stationary until the distance had been greatly increased, when he resumed his pursuit, with a caution and silence that made it impossible for the trained and listening ear to detect his coming. He appreciated the position too keenly to make any mistake at such a critical time.
He did not speak again, but, lifting the paddle, pushed the shoulder of Harry vigorously; but he was in too sound a slumber to awake.
“Sleep on,” muttered Old Ruff, as he cautiously impelled the canoe. “You ain’t of any account now, and you’re safe till morning any way. If there’s any ticklish business to bedone to-night, I’d rather have you asleep than awake. I left you up the river, and gave you orders not to stir; but you couldn’t wait till I come back, and ef the varmints hadn’t left jist when they did, you’d had us both in the ugliest scrape of our lives. I’ll pay him for that, yet,” added Old Ruff, with a shake of his head; “when I take younkers to train, they’ve got to obey orders. Ah! what does that mean?”
The Blackfeet ahead had ceased paddling again. Certain that they had heard nothing of him, old Robsart was naturally curious to know the cause, and he ceased, too, permitting his canoe to float with the current.
For several seconds every thing remained as silent as the tomb, and then he detected a sound which he understood too well.
“Good!” he growled, with a grin of delight. “The varmints have landed to go into camp, and now the fun will begin!”
The old hunter kept his canoe motionless in the current until he was certain that every one of the Blackfeet had left their boats, and had pulled them up on the shore, beyond danger of being swept away by the current.
Even then he waited until no doubt could remain of their intention to kindle a fire and to make a prolonged halt. As soon as he caught the first twinkle of their camp-fire, he shot his boat swiftly to the bank, and stepping softly out, drew the prow clean up out of the water, beneath some overhanging bushes, where it could not be seen by any one who might accidentally pass near.
Not the slightest movement indicated that there was any danger of awakening on the part of the lad, and confident that there was not, he only paused long enough to gather the bushes a little more compactly about the boat, so as to make the concealment as perfect as possible.
Old Ruff then, with rifle in hand, straightened up and looked off in the darkness, turning his gaze up instead of down the river.
“I don’t hear any thing of Speckled Beauty,” he mused; “but I s’pose I’ve traveled a little too fast in the darkness for him to keep track of us all the way; but he’ll be along arter awhile.”
With this confident conclusion, he moved off in the direction of the camp-fire, which was now burning brightly and cheerily, and the bustle and activity of the red-skins about the blaze made the scene interesting if not cheerful to the ordinary looker-on.
It was an easy matter for the trapper to reconnoiter the camp of a foe at night, and he moved leisurely along until he reached a point from which he was afforded the best view possible of the congregated Blackfeet.
The latter had brought a haunch of venison with them, which was being cooked over the fire, most of the Indians moving hither and thither, while one or two were lazily stretched out upon the ground, smoking their pipes.
Upon a fallen tree, near the blaze, sat Little Rifle. Her head was bent, and an Indian blanket was gathered about her, so that her face could not be seen by the trapper, although he stood directly in front of her.
But it needed not the sight of the beautiful little weapon lying at her feet, for the old man to identify her. If he was enabled to do so when half a mile distant, there was no mistaking now, when no more than a hundred feet separated.
After watching her intently for a minute or two, in the hope that she would raise her eyes, the trapper turned his gaze upon Maquesa, who, lounging at her feet, was looking up in her face and talking. Old Ruff could catch the mumble of his voice now and then, when there was a lull in the racket made by the others, and he could see from his manner that he was deeply in earnest about something, though unable to catch a syllable that he uttered.
“I think I know what that means,” growled the hunter, as he fairly glared upon the red-skin. “I was afeard of it. Ef it hadn’t been fur that desprit fight that me and Maquesa had, and the consequent love atween us, I’d put a bulletspangthrough him, from whar I stand, though I s’pose the red-skin does mean well enough—”
At this moment the watcher heard a crackling off to the right, and turning his head, he saw, to his dismay, Speckled Beauty, the gorgeous grizzly bear, emerge from the gloom, and without a moment’s hesitation, walk directly toward the camp-fire.
Robsart would have prevented this had it been possible; but he had forgotten all about the animal for the time, and he could not have signaled to him, or crossed his path, without betraying himself to the group of savages. So, with no little chagrin, he stood where he was and watched the antics of his pet.
Speckled Beauty, coming to the camp-fire under the impression that it was kindled by his friends, and descrying Little Rifle, had turned his steps toward her, as the best he could do under the circumstances.
The moment he came within the circle of light, there was a furious uproar, and nearly every red-skin sprung for his rifle. Maquesa leaped to his feet, greatly startled by this tumult; but before any one could discharge their pieces, he recognized the brute and forbade them firing.
Little Rifle also raised her head for an instant, looked steadily at the bear, and then, without changing her position, looked down again, drawing the blanket about her shoulders, and seemingly indifferent to what was going on about her.
The tumult and confusion created by the Blackfeet alarmed Speckled Beauty, and caused him to pause in his walk toward the girl. He glared at the red-skins, and then apparently scenting danger in the sight of so many guns, turned squarely about and lumbered off in the darkness again.
“He’s done all the mischief he can, out thar,” growled Old Ruff, impatiently, “and now he’ll nose around till he finds the Yankee or me, and make every thing ten times worse.”
He began to suspect that he had made a blunder in bringing the curiosity along; for Maquesa, knowing to whom he belonged, would be very apt to suspect that his master was somewhere in the neighborhood, and placed thus upon his guard, the labor that Robsart had laid out for himself, would be increased ten-fold.
This was the mischief that undoubtedly had been already committed; but fearful that Harry Northend would also betray his position, when suddenly aroused from his slumber by the snout of the bear, thrust against his face, the trapper cautiously withdrew from his advanced position, and circling around, came to the river-bank, a short distance above where he had left the boat.
He was none too soon, for at the same instant he saw the outlines of the dark, cumbrous body of his pet bear, which gave a growl of pleasure, as he recognized his master, and hurried forward to receive his caress.
It was not withheld, the bulky brute cavorting and tumbling about his master, with the playful affection of a kitten. It took fully a half-hour before he could be quieted down into any thing like tractability, during all of which Harry was sound asleep, and happily unconscious of what was going on so near him.
It was the wish of the bear-tamer to prevent the lad from being awakened, and when he had shown the bear where he was, and permitted him to nose around for a short time, he concluded that the danger was past, and impressing upon the sagacious brute the importance of remaining where he was, he returned to his reconnoissance of the camp.
Here another surprise and a bitter disappointment awaited him. The huge fire was burning as brightly as ever, but not an Indian was to be seen!
As silently as shadows, they had launched their canoes again, and floated away in the gloom of the night!
And so abruptly had all this been done, that Old Ruff had no suspicion until he saw the evidence before his eyes.
“That’s it!” he exclaimed, in his anger. “Maquesa is sharp-witted, and if he’d been a fool, he’d knowed what the sign of Speckled Beauty was. He has tramped a good many miles of the woods alone, but I don’t s’pose he’s been see’d by any one who knows him, that they haven’t made up thar minds that I was close by. That’s jist what the chief has understood, and he and his varmints has slipped off ag’in.”
He stood a moment, fairly gnashing his teeth in his chagrin, and feeling any thing but particularly friendly toward the bear that had been the cause of the mishap.