What had that awful cry heard by Dick meant?
To learn the particulars, we must go back to the time when Nellie Winthrop started to escape from the cave in the cliff.
The heart of the poor girl almost stopped beating as she saw Pawnee Brown face about, ready to defend both her and himself from any enemy who might appear to help Yellow Elk.
Urged by the great scout, she set off on a hasty run for the mouth of the cave.
Before the entrance was gained she heard the crack of a pistol, but whether fired by the boomer or an Indian she could not tell.
"Heaven spare that brave man!" was the prayer which came to her almost bloodless lips.
She looked around in vain for the horse spoken of by Pawnee Brown. Not an animal was in sight. Then she remembered what the scout had said about riding down the ravine, and she set off on foot.
Not far from the mouth of the cave the ravine forked into two branches, the smaller fork ending at the distance of quarter of a mile in a cul de sac, or blind pocket. Not knowing she was making any mistake, she entered this fork and kept on running, expecting each instant to find Pawnee Brown coming up behind her.
"Oh, dear, I can't be right!"
Such was the cry which escaped her when she came to a halt, realizing she could go no further in that direction. On both sides and in front arose a series of rocks, more or less steep, and covered only with scrub brush, impossible to ascend.
She looked behind. No one was coming. All about her was as silent as a tomb.
"Perhaps I had better go back," she mused, but the thought of encountering an Indian made her shiver. In her life in the open she had had many an encounter with a wild animal, but redskins were as yet almost new to her, and her experience with the hideous Yellow Elk had been one she did not care to repeat.
She had just turned to move back to the ravine proper, when a sound among the rocks caused her to pause. She looked intently in the direction, but could see nothing out of the ordinary.
"Hullo, there, miss; what are you doing away out here?"
The cry came from the rocks on her right. Turning swiftly, she saw an evil-looking man scowling down upon her from a small opening under one of the rocky walls of thecul de sac. The man was Louis Vorlange.
Nellie did not know the fellow; indeed she had never heard of him. But there was that in the spy's manner which was not at all reassuring as he leaped down to where she stood.
"I say, how did you come here?" went on Vorlange.
"I—I just escaped from an Indian who carried me off from Arkansas City," answered Nellie.
"An Indian! Who was it, do you know?"
"A fellow named Yellow Elk."
Vorlange uttered a low whistle.
"Where is he now?" he questioned.
"I left him back in yonder hills, in a cave."
Again the spy uttered a whistle, but whether of surprise or dismay Nellie could not tell.
"Were you alone with Yellow Elk?"
"I was for a time. But a white man came to my aid and the two had a fight."
"Who was the white man?"
Before she gave the matter a second thought, Nellie answered:
"Mr. Pawnee Brown."
"Ha!" Vorlange's eyes gleamed, and the girl felt certain she had made a mistake.
"Where is Pawnee Brown now?"
"I left him in the cave with the Indian. I expected him to follow me."
"I see. And what may your name be?"
The man's words were fair enough, but Nellie did not like his manner at all, so she turned upon him coldly.
"And what is your name, and who are you?"
"I am not here to answer questions, miss. I am a government official, let that be enough for you to know."
As he spoke Louis Vorlange caught Nellie by the arm.
"Let go of me," cried the frightened girl, and attempted to pull away, but Vorlange held her tight.
"You come along with me. No one, and especially Pawnee Brown, has any right in this territory just now, and it is my business to see that all such people are kept out. I presume you belong to that crowd of boomers, since you say you were carried off from Arkansas City?"
"I shall answer no more of your questions, sir. Let me go!"
"You'll come along with me," muttered Vorlange. "I take it you know what the boomers intend to do, and, if that is so, your information is just what the government wants."
So speaking he attempted to drag Nellie up the rocks to the opening before mentioned. The girl resisted with all of her strength, and Vorlange received a box on the left ear which made that member of his body hum for a long time after.
"You little wretch!" he cried, as he caught her up in his arms. "I will get square with you for that."
"You are no gentleman! Let me go!" replied Nellie. Then she attempted to scream, but he promptly clapped his hand over her mouth.
In another moment, despite her utmost struggles, he was carrying her up to the opening. This spot once reached, he took her inside and over to a well-like hole upon one side.
"Do you see that hole?" he said sternly. "I am going to put you in that for the present, for safe keeping. I call it my prison cell, and no cell could be better. It is not a cheerful place, but you will be as safe there as in the best prison in Chicago or San Francisco. I'll be back for you soon, and in the meantime you had better make no attempt to escape, for at the mouth of this opening is set a gun, with a wire attachment, which may blow you up."
This latter statement was a false one, but Vorlange rightfully calculated that it would have its due effect upon the frightened girl.
Having thus intimidated Nellie, Vorlange lowered her into the opening in the rocks, which was about six feet in diameter and at least ten feet deep. This done, he lit a lantern and hung it so that its rays might shine down upon his captive.
"You won't feel so lonesome with the light," he said. "Now keep quiet until I return. If you behave yourself you have nothing to fear. I am a government officer and I am holding you as a prisoner only until I can turn you over to the proper authorities."
"It is a—a queer proceeding," faltered Nellie. She could hardly bring herself to believe the man.
"Out here we can't do things exactly as they are done in the big cities," grinned Vorlange. "We are out here after the boomers just now, and your being here with Pawnee Brown will rather go against you. But keep quiet now until I return."
Thus speaking, the spy quirted the opening, leaving Nellie alone. With hasty steps Vorlange made his way along the fork of the ravine until the opening proper was reached. Here he settled himself in a tree to watch for Pawnee Brown's possible coming. But, as we know, the scout did not move in that direction.
For over two hours Nellie was left alone, a prey to the keenest mental torture it is possible to imagine. As the day was drawing to a close Vorlange appeared, a peculiar smile upon his face.
He had met the cavalrymen, and Jack Rasco had been captured as previously described.
"Well, we are going to move now," he said to Nellie, and threw down a rope that he might haul her up out of the hole.
"Where to?"
"You'll learn that later."
As she did not wish to remain in that damp spot longer, she caught the rope and was drawn up. Then Vorlange took her outside and sat her down before him on his horse, first, however, tying her hands.
It was during the ride that followed that Dick heard her cry for help and started to her rescue, only to miss her and get lost in the brush.
A ride of half an hour brought the pair to the edge of a heavy timber. Through this they picked their way, until a small clearing was gained, where was located a low log cabin, containing two rooms. The log cabin was not inhabited, and Vorlange pushed open the door without ceremony.
"You'll stay here over night," he said, as he ushered Nellie into the smaller room. "You can see this has been used for a prison before, as all of the windows are nailed up. I don't believe you'll try to escape anyway, for, let me warn you, it won't pay. Make yourself as comfortable as you can, and in the morning we'll come to an understanding. We've got another prisoner besides yourself, and between the two of you I reckon we'll find out before long just what the boomers are up to."
And with a dark look upon his face, Louis Vorlange stalked out of the apartment, locking the door after him, and thus leaving Nellie to her fate.
"Pawnee Brown at last!"
The words came from one of the boomers, a fat but spry old chap named Dunbar.
"Yes, Dunbar," answered the great scout. "Were you getting anxious about me?"
"Well, just a trifle, Pawnee."
"The camp must move at once. Send the word around immediately, Dunbar."
"Whar do we move to?"
"To Honnewell. As soon as all hands are at Honnewell I'll send out further orders."
In less than half an hour the immense wagon train organized by the boomers located in Kansas was on the way.
At the front rode Pawnee Brown, Clemmer and several others who were personal friends of the scout.
It was a grand sight, this moving. To this day some of the boomers say it was the grandest sight they ever beheld.
Every heart was full of hope. Past trials and hardships were forgotten. The boomers were to enter the richest farming lands in the States and there start life anew.
The movement was made in silence and in almost utter darkness. Of course, it was impossible to hide the news from the citizens of Arkansas City, but the train was well on its way before the news had any chance of spreading.
At the time of which we write there were several trails to Honnewell from Arkansas City. The regular road was a fair one in good weather, but, after such a rain as had fallen, this trail was hub-deep with mud in more than one spot.
"Oi'll not go thot trail," was Delaney's comment. "Oi'll take the upper road."
"Thot's roight, Mike," put in Rosy, his wife. "It's not meself as wants to stick fast in this black mud. Sure, and it's worse nor the bogs of Erin!"
"Vot's dot road you vos speakin' apout alretty?" put in Humpendinck, who had as heavy a wagon as anyone.
"It's a better road nor this, Humpy," replied Mike Delaney. "Folly me an' we'll rach Honnewell afore enny of 'em, mark me wurrud."
Thus encouraged, Humpendinck followed Delaney on the upper trail, and, seeing the two go off, half a dozen followed.
It was more than half an hour after before Pawnee Brown heard of their departure.
The great scout was much disturbed.
"It's foolishness for them to start off on the upper trail," he declared. "I went over it but a few days ago, and at Brown's Crossing the road is all torn up by a freshet. Besides that, we must keep together."
"Yer right thar, Pawnee," answered Clemmer. "Delaney ought to know better. But yer can't tell the Irish anything."
"Humpendinck went with him," put in Dunbar, who had brought the news.
"Both the Irishman and the German are smart enough in their way," answered Pawnee Brown. "But they've made a mistake. Cal and Dunbar, you continue at the head, and I'll ride across country and head Delaney and his crowd back through the Allen trail. I'll probably rejoin you just this side of Honnewell."
With this command, Pawnee Brown left the wagon train and plunged off through the darkness alone.
He had been over that district many times and thought he knew about every foot of the ground.
But for once the great scout was mistaken, and that mistake was destined to bring him into serious difficulty.
About half a mile had been covered, and he was just approaching a patch of small timber, when he noticed that Bonnie Bird began to show signs of shyness. She did not refuse to go forward, but evidently was proceeding against her will.
Quick to notice a change in the beautiful mare's mood, Pawnee Brown spoke to her. She pawed the ground and tossed her head.
"What is it, Bonnie? Danger ahead?"
Again the mare pawed the ground. Feeling certain something was wrong, Pawnee Brown stood up in his stirrups and looked about him.
All was dark and silent upon every side. Overhead the faint stars shed but an uncertain light.
"It's one too many for me, Bonnie," he mused. "Forward until the danger becomes clearer."
Thus commanded, the mare moved forward once more, but this time much slower. Once or twice her feet seemed to stick fast, but Pawnee Brown did not notice this. At last she came to a dead halt and would not go another step.
"The danger must be in the timber," thought the boomer. "Bonnie Bird wouldn't balk for nothing. I'll dismount and reconnoitre."
Springing to the ground, he drew his pistol and moved forward silently. Scarcely had he taken a dozen steps than he realized the cause of his mare's unwillingness to proceed further.
He was in a bed of quicksand.
Anybody who knows what a bed of quicksand is knows how dangerous it is—dangerous to both man and beast. Just as the scout made his discovery he sank up to his knees in the mass.
"By Jove! I must get back out of this, and in double-quick order," he muttered, and tried to turn, to find himself sinking up to his waist.
Pawnee Brown was now fully alive to the grave peril of his situation.
He tried by all the strength at his command to pull himself to the firm ground from which he had started.
He could not budge a foot. True, he took one step, but it was only to sink in deeper than ever.
Several minutes of great anxiety passed. He had sunk very nearly up to his armpits.
Quarter of an hour more and he would be up to his head, and then——? Brave as he was, the great scout did not dare to think further. The idea of a death in the treacherous quicksand was truly horrible.
His friends would wonder what had become of him, but it was not likely that they would ever find his body.
And even faithful Bonnie Bird would be dumb, so far as telling the particulars of her master's disappearance was concerned.
The mare now stood upon the edge of the quicksands, fifteen feet off, whining anxiously. She knew as well as though she had been a human being that something was wrong.
Suddenly an inspiration came to Pawnee Brown.
"How foolish! Why didn't I think of that before?" he muttered.
At his belt had hung a lariat, placed there when the wagon train started, in case any of the animals should attempt to run off in the darkness.
The boomer could use a lariat as well as Clemmer or any of the cowboys. More than once, riding at full speed upon his mare, he had thrown the noose around any foot of a steer that was selected by those looking on.
He put his hand down to his waist and felt for the lariat. It was still there, and he brought it up and swung it over his head, to free it from the quicksand.
As has been stated, the belt of timber was not far away, the nearest tree being less than fifty feet from where he remained stuck.
Preparing the lariat, he threw the noose up and away from him. It circled through the air and fell over the nearest branch of the tree. Hauling it taut, Pawnee Brown tested it, to make sure it would not slip, and then began to haul himself up, as Rasco had done at the swamp hole.
It was slow work, and more than once he felt that the lariat would break, so great was the strain put upon it.
But it held, and a few minutes later Pawnee Brown found himself with somewhat cut hands, safe in the branches of the tree.
Winding up the lariat, he descended to the ground, and made a detour to where Bonnie Bird remained standing, and to where he had cast his pistol.
The mare and weapon secured, he continued on his way, but made certain to wander into no more quicksand spots.
"It was too narrow an escape for comfort," was the way in which Pawnee Brown expressed himself, when he told the story later.
An hour after found him again among the boomers.
Mike Delaney was just coming in by the Allen trail. The Irishman was much crestfallen over his failure to find a better trail than that selected by the scout, and Rosy was giving it to him with a vengeance.
"Th' nixt toime ye go forward it will be undher Pawnee Brown's directions, Moike Delaney!" she cried. "It's not yerself thot is as woise as Moses in the wilderness, moind thot!" And her clenched fist shook vigorously to emphasize her words. After that Delaney never strayed from the proper trail again.
All of the boomers but Jack Rasco were now on hand, and as hour after hour went by and Rasco did not turn up, Pawnee Brown grew anxious about the welfare of his right-hand man.
"Looking for the girl had brought him into trouble, more than likely," he thought, as he rode away from Honnewell, taking a due south course. "And what can have become of her?"
Pawnee Brown was on his way to the spot where he had left Dick. He had decided that as soon as he had found the lad, he would return to camp, and then the onward march of the boomers for Oklahoma should at once be begun.
On through the ravine where he had met Yellow Elk he dashed, Bonnie Bird feeling fresh after a short rest and her morning meal, for the sun was now creeping skyward. On through the brush, and he turned toward the open prairie.
"Halt! Throw up your hands!"
The unexpected command came from the thicket on the edge of the prairie. On the instant the boomer wheeled about. The sight which met his gaze caused his heart to sink within him. There, drawn up in line, was the full troop of cavalry sent out by the government to stop the boomers' entrance to the much-coveted territory.
Vorlange's spy work was responsible, and Pawnee Brown's carefully-laid plan had fallen through.
"Lost!"
Dick murmured the word over and over again, as he peered through the brush, first in one direction and then in another.
"I ought to have kept track of where I was going," he went on bitterly. "Of course, away out here one place is about as good as another for hiding, but how am I going to find the others, or, rather, how are they going to find me, when they come back?"
He pushed on for nearly a quarter of an hour; then, coming to a flat rock, threw himself down for reflection.
"Just my luck!" he muttered. "I'll have to have a string tied about my neck like a poodle dog. What a clown I was to go it blind! But Nellie's cry for help made me forget everything else. Poor girl! I do hope she is safe. If that redskin—gosh! what's that?"
The flat rock was backed up by a number of heavy bushes. From these bushes had come a peculiar noise, half grunt, half yawn! Dick leaped to his feet, the bushes parted and there appeared the savage face of Yellow Elk!
Dick knew the Indian by that plume of which he had heard so much. He rightfully guessed that Yellow Elk had been taking a nap behind the bushes. He had been shot in the thigh, and this, coupled with the fact that he had had no sleep for two nights, had made him very weary.
As the Indian chief shoved his face into view he caught sight of Dick and uttered a slight huh! Up came the boy's weapon, but on the instant Yellow Elk disappeared.
For the moment Dick was too paralyzed to move. Like a flash he realized that Yellow Elk had the better of him, for the Indian was behind shelter, while he stood in a clearing.
"White boy stand still!" came in guttural tones from the redskin. "Don't dare move, or Indian shoot."
"What do you want of me?" asked Dick.
"White boy all alone?"
"What business is that of yours?"
At this Yellow Elk muttered a grunt. Then from out of the bushes Dick saw thrust the shining barrel of a horse pistol.
"White boy throw down little shooter," commanded the redskin. By little shooter he meant Dick's pistol.
There was no help for it, and the youth did as requested.
"White boy got udder shooter?"
"No."
"Now say if white boy alone. Speak if want to save life."
"Yes, I am alone, Yellow Elk."
"Ha! you know Yellow Elk?" cried the Indian in surprise.
"I've heard of you."
"What white boy do here?"
"I am lost."
"Lost. Huh!" and a look of disgust crossed the Indian chiefs face. The idea of a human being losing his way was something he could not understand. During his life he had covered thousands of miles of prairie and forest lands and had never yet lost himself. Such is the training and instinct of a true American aboriginal.
While speaking Yellow Elk had leaped through the brush, and now he came up and peered into Dick's face. Instantly his eyes filled with anger.
"I know white boy; he friend to Pawnee Brown. Indian see him at big moving."—meaning the camp of the boomers. He had not noticed Dick in the fight at the cave.
"Yes, Pawnee Brown is my friend," answered Dick. "Where is he now?" he added, to throw the Indian off the series of questions he was propounding.
"Pawnee Brown dead!" muttered Yellow Elk simply. "White boy come with me."
"With you!" ejaculated Dick, a chill creeping up to his heart.
"Yes; come now. No wait, or Yellow Elk shoot!" and again the horse pistol was raised.
The tone was so ugly that Dick felt it would be useless to hang back. Yellow Elk pointed with his arm in the direction he wished the lad to proceed, and away they went, the Indian but a pace behind, and keeping his pistol where it would be ready for use whenever required.
Dick never forgot that walk in the starlight, taken at about the same time that Pawnee Brown was floundering in the quicksand. A mile or more was covered, over prairies, through a wood and across several small streams, for the fertile Indian Territory abounds in water courses. Yellow Elk stuck to him like a shadow, and the pistol was continually in evidence. Yellow Elk had likewise appropriated Dick's weapon, the one cast to the ground.
Presently a clearing was gained where stood a cabin built of logs. All about the place was deserted. Going up to the cabin the Indian opened the door and lit a match.
"White boy go inside and we have talk," said Yellow Elk, when there came a noise from the woods beyond. At once Yellow Elk pushed Dick into the cabin and bolted the door from the outside.
"White boy keep quiet or Yellow Elk come in and kill!" he hissed, in a low but distinct tone. "No make a sound till Indian open door again."
The Indian's words were so terrifying that Dick stood still for several minutes exactly where he had been thrust. All was pitch dark around him. He listened, but not a sound reached his ears.
"Where in the world is this adventure going to end?" was the thought which coursed through his mind.
He wondered what had alarmed Yellow Elk. Was it the approach of some white friend? Fervidly he prayed it might be.
A low, half-suppressed cough from somewhere close at hand caught his ear and made him start.
"Who is there?" he asked aloud.
"Oh, Dick Arbuckle, is that you?" came in an eager voice.
"Nellie Winthrop! Is it possible? Where are you?"
"In the next room."
"Can't you come out?"
"No; I'm locked in."
"Gosh, you don't say!" Forgetting his former fear, Dick hurried across the cabin floor to the door of the inner apartment. Feeling around in the dark he found a hasp and staple and pulled out the plug which fastened the barrier. In another instant boy and girl plumped into each other's arms in the darkness. Even in that moment of peril Dick could not resist giving Nellie a little squeeze, which she did not resent.
"But how came you here?" asked the youth quickly.
"I was captured by a government spy, who wants to get from me some secret of the boomers. He is a bad-looking man, and I was awfully afraid of him."
"Yellow Elk brought me here. We are prisoners together. Some noise in the woods just took Yellow Elk off."
"The man has been gone less than five minutes. Perhaps they are in league with each other," suggested Nellie.
"Perhaps, or they may be enemies. But never mind how that stands. We must get away, Nellie, and that before Yellow Elk comes back."
"Heaven knows, I am willing!" gasped the trembling girl. "I want no more of Yellow Elk."
"The window is nailed up," went on Dick, after an examination. "And the Indian fastened that door from the outside. I wonder if I can't get out by way of the roof?" He lit a match and gazed upward. "There is an opening. Here goes!"
In another instant he was climbing up beside the fireplace, to where a scuttle led to the sloping roof. He was soon without, and Nellie heard him drop to the ground. Then the outer door was thrown back.
"Quick! The Indian is coming back, and there is somebody with him!" whispered Dick, and, taking hold of Nellie's hand, he led her away as fast as possible. Their course was from the rear of the cabin and across a broad but shallow stream.
"We'll go down the stream a bit before we land," said Dick, as they were on the point of stepping out of the water. "That may serve to throw Yellow Elk off the trail."
"Yes, yes, but do hurry!" answered the girl. "If Yellow Elk gets hold of me again I'll die!" The fear of getting into the clutches of the red man was so great she trembled from head to foot and would have gone down had not Dick's strong arm supported her.
It was wonderful how strong the youth felt, now that he had somebody besides himself to protect. It is said that nature fits the back to the burden, and it must have been so in this case. For himself, he might have feared to face Yellow Elk single-handed; defending Nellie he would, if called upon, have faced a dozen redskins.
On and on they went, as silently as possible. The trees overhung the brook from both sides, making it pitch dark beneath.
A distance of fifty yards had been covered, when they heard a loud exclamation of rage, followed by an Indian grunt.
"The white man and the Indian have met and both have discovered our flight," whispered Dick. "Come, we will leave the stream and take to yonder woods. Surely among those trees we can find some safe hiding place."
They turned in toward shore. As they were about to step to dry land Nellie's foot slipped on a round stone, making a loud splash. At the same time the girl gave a faint cry.
"My ankle—it's twisted!"
"Quick! let me carry you!" returned Dick, and, seeing the ankle must pain her not a little, he picked her up in his arms and dove in among the trees.
They were not a moment too soon, for the ready ears of Yellow Elk had heard the splash and the cry, and now he came bounding in the direction, with Louis Vorlange at his heels.
"They are coming closer, Dick! What shall we do?"
It was Nellie Winthrop who asked the question. Boy and girl had entered the woods a distance of fifty feet from the bank of the brook, and both rested where several large rocks and some overhanging bushes afforded a convenient hiding place.
"Keep quiet, Nellie," he said in a murmur, with his lips close to her shell-like ears. And he gripped her arm to show her that he would stand by her no matter what danger might befall them.
It would have been foolhardy to say more, for Yellow Elk and Louis Vorlange were now within hearing distance, and the ears of the Indian chief were more than ever on the alert. The government spy had lighted a torch, which he swung low to the brook bank, while Yellow Elk made an examination of the ground.
"Here footmarks!" grunted the redskin, a minute later, and pointed them out. "They go this way—cannot be far off."
"Then after them," muttered Vorlange. "It was through your stupidity that the girl got away. Yellow Elk, I always put you down for being smarter than that."
"Yellow Elk smart enough!" growled the Indian chief.
"No, you're not. In some things you are like a block of wood," grumbled Vorlange. The escape of Nellie had put him out a good deal.
The manner of the government spy provoked the Indian. To be called a block of wood is, to the red man, a direct insult. Yellow Elk straightened up.
"White man big fool!" he hissed. "Yellow Elk not make chase for him," and he folded his arms.
"You won't go after the boy and the girl?" queried Vorlange.
"No—white man hunt for himself if he want to catch the little woman again."
And having thus delivered himself, Yellow Elk sat down by the brook and refused to budge another step.
The Indian's objections to continuing the search were more numerous than appeared on the surface. The so-called insult, bad as it was, was merely an excuse to hide other motives. Yellow Elk had known Vorlange for years and as the spy was naturally a mean fellow, the redskin hated him accordingly.
Another reason for refusing to go ahead was that Yellow Elk knew only too well that if Dick and Nellie were again taken, Vorlange would consider both his own captives, and Yellow Elk would be "counted out" of the entire proceedings. He could not go to the agency and claim any glory, for he had run away without permission, although he had told Vorlange he was away on a special mission connected with the soldiers.
And deeper than all was the thought that if he did not capture Nellie now, he might do so later on, when he had separated from the spy. Ever since he had first seen the beautiful girl he had been covetous of making her his squaw. Indian fashion, he felt he could compel Nellie to choose him, even if he had to whip her into making the choice.
"You won't go on with the search?" cried Vorlange, in a rage.
"No," was the short answer.
"I say you shall! See here, Yellow Elk, do you want to be shot?"
"Yellow Elk not afraid of Vorlange—Vorlange know dat. Yellow Elk go back to cabin to see if girl or boy leave anything behind."
Then he got up, waded across the brook again and disappeared among the trees surrounding the log cabin.
Louis Vorlange muttered a good many things in a very angry tone. Then, torch in hand, he started up the brook bank to follow the trail alone.
Dick and Nellie listened to the quarrel with bated breath. Both hoped that Vorlange would follow to the cabin. When he approached closer than ever, their hearts seemed to almost stop beating.
Feeling that a contest was at hand, Dick groped around in the darkness for some weapon. No stick was at hand, but at his feet lay a jagged stone weighing all of a pound. He took it up and held it in readiness.
Closer and closer came Vorlange, turning now to the right and now to the left, for following the trail among the rocks and brush was no easy matter.
"Might as well give yourselves up!" he called out. "I am bound to spot you sooner or later."
To this neither offered any reply, but Dick felt Nellie shiver. They could now see the flare of the torch plainly, for Vorlange was less than thirty feet away.
Presently the spy uttered a low cry of pleasure. He had found several footprints, where Dick had slipped from a rock into the dirt. Now he came straight for them, waving the torch above his head that it might throw its light to a greater distance.
Dick had let fly the jagged stone, taking him directly in the forehead
"So there you are!" The man caught sight of Nellie's dress. "I told you I would catch you. It's not such an easy matter to get away from Louis Vorlange. The next time I lock you up—oh!"
A deep groan escaped the spy. Dick had let fly the jagged stone, taking him directly in the forehead and keeling him over like a tenpin. The blow left a deep cut from which the blood flowed in a stream, and Vorlange was completely stunned.
"Oh, Dick, have you—you—killed him?" burst from Nellie's lips, in horror.
"I guess not, Nellie; he's stunned, that's all. Come, let us run for it again—before that Indian changes his mind and comes back."
"You might take his pistol," suggested the quick-witted girl.
"A good idea—I will. Now let me carry you again, I see you can hardly stand on that foot." For Nellie had limped along a dozen steps in great pain.
"But I am so heavy, Dick——"
"Never mind, I can carry you a little distance, at least."
"You had better save yourself and let me go."
"What! Nellie, do you think me so selfish? Never! Come, and we'll escape or die in the attempt."
And catching her up as before, he started off on as rapid a gait as the weight of his fair burden would permit.
A distance of a hundred yards had been covered and Dick found himself ascending a slight hill. The climb was by no means easy, yet he kept on manfully, knowing what capture by Yellow Elk might mean.
"He would tomahawk me and carry Nellie off," he thought, and it would be hard to say which he thought the worst, the tomahawking or the carrying off of the girl for whom he entertained such a high regard.
The top of the hill reached, they saw before them a broad stretch of open prairie, flanked to the north and the south by the woods from which they had just emerged.
"I'll be thrashed if I know where we are," he said. "Have you any idea?"
"No, Dick, I am completely bewildered."
"I wonder if it is safe to attempt to cross this prairie? It is pretty dark, but that redskin has mighty sharp eyes."
"Let us go down to the edge of the woods first and rest a bit. I am sure you are pretty well out of breath, and if I can bathe my ankle in some cold water perhaps I'll be able to walk on it before long."
"Don't try it, Nellie; I'll carry you," and again the youth picked her up.
It was not long before they reached a convenient hollow, where there was a small pool. Here Nellie made herself comfortable and took off the shoe which hurt her so much. Bathed, the ankle which had been twisted felt much better. It was still, however, much swollen, and to walk far on that foot was as yet out of the question.
An hour went by, a quiet hour, in which only the cries of the night birds and the occasional hoot of an owl disturbed them. They conversed in whispers and Dick's ears were ever on the alert, for he felt certain that Vorlange or Yellow Elk would sooner or later continue the search for them.
Nellie was very sleepy and at last her eyes closed and she dropped into a slumber upon Dick's shoulder, forming such a pretty picture the youth could do nothing but admire her. "I'll save her—I must do it!" he murmured, and kissed her wavy tresses softly.
It wanted still two hours to sunrise when he awakened her. She leaped up with a start.
"I have been asleep! Oh, Dick, why did you let me drop off?"
"I knew how tired you must be after going through all you did. But we must be on our way now, before it grows lighter. How is the foot?"
"It is stiff, but much better. Which way shall we go?"
"Let us strike across the prairie and to the north. That is bound to bring us into Kansas sooner or later, and once there we'll be sure to locate the boomers without much trouble."
Both were hungry, but, as there was no food at hand, neither said a word on that point. Getting a drink at a running brook close by, they started off, Dick holding Nellie's hand, that she might not go down on the ankle that was still weak.
Only a corner of the broad prairie passed, and then they turned again into a woods. The sun was now up and it was growing warmer.
"I'll shoot a few birds if I can't find anything else," said Dick. "We can't starve, and birds broiled over a fire will make a fair meal."
"But the noise?" began Nellie.
"I know; but, as I said, we can't starve, Nellie. We'll have to take the risk. Here goes!"
Dick crept forward to where half a dozen birds sat on a nearby bush. The birds were in a flutter over something, but Dick did not notice this. Bringing two of the birds into range for a single shot, he blazed away with his pistol.
The sharp crack of the firearm was still echoing through the woods when there came a roar from behind the bushes the birds had occupied. Dick had brought down his game and more, he had struck a bear in the shoulder. In another moment the huge beast leaped into sight, and with angry eyes and gleaming teeth bore straight for the astonished boy.
Never was Dick Arbuckle more astonished than when the big bear leaped out from behind the bushes and confronted himself and Nellie Winthrop.
"Oh, Dick! a bear!" screamed the girl, and stood still, too paralyzed with fright to move.
As we know, Dick had just brought down several birds with his pistol—indeed it was this very shot which had clipped the bear—and now the weapon was empty and useless, having had but one chamber loaded.
But as the great beast came forward, Dick knew enough not to stand still. He retreated in double-quick order, and forced Nellie to accompany him. Away they went through the woods with the bear in close pursuit.
At the start of the chase girl and boy were at least forty feet in advance, but despite his bulk the bear made rapid progress, and slowly but surely began to lessen the distance between himself and those he sought to make his victims. Looking over his shoulder, Dick saw him lumbering along, his mouth wide open and his blood-red tongue hanging out as though ready to lick him in.
"I—I—can't run any more," gasped Nellie. Her heart was beating as though ready to break. "Oh, Dick, what shall we do?"
"Here is a tree with low branches—jump for that—I will help you up!" returned the youth, and in a few seconds they were in the tree, a scrub oak, with the big bear underneath, eying them angrily, and speculating upon how he could bring them down within reach of his powerful embrace and his hungry maw.
"He is going to climb up," came from Nellie's lips a few seconds later. She was right. Bruin had attacked the tree trunk and now he was coming up slowly, as though afraid of moving into some trap.
Dick did not answer, for talking would have done no good. He was re-loading the pistol with all possible speed.
Crack! Dick had leaned down through the branches of the oak and taken aim at one of those bloodshot eyes. There was a howl and a roar, and the bear fell down with a crash that shook the forest. As to whether the bullet had found that eye or not Dick could not tell, but certain it was that once on the ground the bear picked himself up in short order and started to run away.
"You hit him!" cried Nellie. "Oh, Dick, if only he don't come back!"
"He's not going away—very far," answered the boy. The shot had encouraged him and his blood was up. A moment later Nellie was horrified to behold him drop to the grass and make off after the beast.
"That bear will kill him sure!" she ejaculated. "Oh, Dick, come back! please do!" she screamed.
A shot answered her, a shot which was quickly followed by another. A minute of painful silence; then suddenly the bear staggered into view with Dick at his heels.
"I've nailed him!" shouted the boy, joyfully, and another shot did the work. With a groan the bear keeled over, gave a jerk or two, and died.
Nellie was in such a tremble she could scarcely descend from the tree. When she did come down she found Dick hard at work cutting out a juicy steak from the bear's flank.
"We'll have a breakfast fit for a king now," he said, with a little laugh, to scatter his former nervousness. "Just wait till I light a fire. I must gather the driest available sticks, so as to make as little smoke as possible."
"Yes, we don't want our enemies to locate us," answered the girl, and saw to it that every twig which went on the blaze which was kindled was as dry as a bone.
In less than half an hour the steak had been done to a turn, and they sat down to eat it. It was certainly a most informal meal, without plates or platter, and only Dick's pocket knife to cut the steak with. Yet neither had ever enjoyed a repast more. Having finished, they procured a drink at a flowing stream behind them, and then Dick cut off a chunk of the bear meat, wrapped it in a bit of skin and slung it over his shoulder.
"We may want another meal of it before we reach civilization," he explained, "Nothing like preparing one's self, when we have the chance."
"It's a shame to leave such a beautiful bear skin robe behind," answered Nellie. "But I suppose it cannot be helped. Oh, if only we were safe once more."
Again they set off on their weary tramp northward, and thus nearly two miles were covered. The sun was now coming out strongly, and Dick saw that his fair companion was beginning to grow tired.
"We will rest a little, Nellie," he said, "I think perhaps we can afford to take it easy now."
"I am so fearful that Indian is following us!" answered the girl with a shudder. "If he should find that bear, and—Oh, Dick, look!"
Nellie leaped to her feet from the seat she had just taken, and pointed behind her. Dick gave one look and his heart sank within him. Yellow Elk was bearing down upon them as swiftly as his long legs would permit!
In his hand the Indian chief carried a gun, and as Nellie arose he caught sight of the pair and pointed the weapon at Dick's head.
"White boy throw down pistol!" he called out, when within speaking distance.
"Let Yellow Elk throw down his gun," answered Dick. His pistol was up and now he shoved Nellie behind him.
"White boy fool—cannot shoot against Yellow Elk," growled the redskin. He had been following their trail since sun-up and was somewhat winded.
"Perhaps I can shoot. Did you see that bear I brought down?" rejoined Dick.
At this the Indian frowned.
"Bear must have been sick—white boy no bring game down like that if well—too powerful."
"I brought him down and I'll bring you down if you don't stop where you are," was the steady answer.
"Oh, Dick, he'll shoot you," whispered Nellie. She wanted to get before him, but he would not allow it.
By this time Yellow Elk had arrived to within a dozen steps of them. Now he stopped and the frown upon his ugly countenance deepened.
"Did white boy hear what Yellow Elk said?"
"I did."
"Does white boy want to die?"
"Does Yellow Elk want to die? I can shoot as straight as you."
The words had scarcely left Dick's mouth than there came a clear click.
The redskin had fired point-blank at the lad, but the gun had failed to go off, the weapon being an old one the Indian had found at the fort—a gun some soldier had discarded as useless.
Following the click Nellie uttered a scream. Then came a crack as Dick fired, and Yellow Elk uttered a yell of pain, having received a painful wound in the side.
With clubbed gun the Indian now rushed in and a hand-to-hand struggle followed. Dick fought valiantly, but was no match for the tall redskin, and a well-directed blow laid him senseless upon the prairie grass. "You have killed him!" screamed Nellie. She was about to kneel at Dick's side, when Yellow Elk hauled her back.
"White dove come with me—boy no killed—be right by-an-by," said the redskin.
"I will not go with you!" she gasped. "Let me down!" for Yellow Elk had raised her up to his broad shoulder.
The redskin merely smiled grimly and set off on a swift walk, which speedily took both Nellie and himself out of sight of poor Dick.
The girl's heart was almost broken by this swift turn of affairs. She had hoped in a few more hours to be safe among her friends, and here she was once again the captive of the Indian she so much feared.
On and on kept Yellow Elk until the stream was reached upon which was located the log cabin where Nellie had been a prisoner. She wondered if Yellow Elk was going to take her there again, but she asked no questions.
Presently the Indian chief came to a sudden halt and raised his head as if to listen. Nellie listened, too, and at a distance heard the tramp of several men. At once Yellow Elk darted behind a number of bushes.
"White girl make noise Yellow Elk kill!" he hissed into his fair captive's ear, and drew his hunting knife.
The tramp of feet came closer. A detachment of foot soldiers were moving through the woods. Soon they came within sight of the pair.
As they came closer Nellie saw they were Government troops. A prisoner was between them—a man. It was Jack Rasco.
"Uncle Jack!" she moaned, when Yellow Elk clapped his hand over her mouth and pointed the hunting knife at her throat.
"Hush!" he commanded, but this was unnecessary, for the discovery and her great fear had caused Nellie to swoon. She fell back, and for a long while she knew no more.
In the meantime Dick had slowly recovered consciousness. The blow had been a fearful one, and long after he sat up he was unable to rise to his feet, so shaky was he in the legs. Slowly the realization of what had occurred came back to him.
"Gone—poor Nellie!" he gasped, and braced himself as best he could. Gazing around he saw that neither girl nor redskin was in sight. Without delay he started to search for Yellow Elk's trail.
He was loping along over the prairies when a shout from his left struck upon his ears. As he gazed in the direction he beheld a number of soldiers swooping down upon him. These were the men who had Jack Rasco a prisoner, the cavalrymen having turned the man of the plains over to them. In a moment Dick was surrounded.
"Jack!" cried the youth, and rushed up to Rasco. "What does this mean?"
"It means I'm a prisoner," answered Rasco, sadly. "Have you seen anything of Nellie?"
In a moment Dick had told his story, to which the soldiers as well as Rasco listened closely. At once several of the guard were sent off to hunt up the redskin, if it were possible to do so. Rasco wanted to go along, but his request was refused.
"You'll slip us if you get the chance," said the officer in charge. "You'll go to the fort. And I fancy the boy will go, too, since he seems to belong to the boomers."
And against his earnest protestations Dick was made to accompany the soldiers, being bound hand to hand with the man of the plains.
An hour later the soldiers' camp was reached, and Rasco and Dick were placed in a temporary guard house. They had been there but a short while when a visitor entered. It was—Louis Vorlange!
"So they have you safe, I see," began Vorlange, when Rasco sprang at him and knocked him down.
"Will you make my niece a prisoner," he cried, wrathfully, for Dick had told him the story. "You dirty spy!"
"Hold up," gasped Vorlange, his face growing white. "Rasco, don't be a fool. I—I—made her a prisoner because I have orders to arrest anybody found roaming around——"
"I won't argy the p'int!" roared Rasco. "I know you, Vorlange, and so does Dick here. You robbed and nearly murdered thet boy's father!"
At these words Vorlange staggered back as though struck a blow.
"Who says I—I did that?" he faltered.
"I say so."
"And so do I," put in Dick, boldly. "We'll have a nice story to tell when we are brought out for examination, I'll tell you that."
Vorlange breathed hard and glared from one to the other. Then of a sudden he caught Dick by the arm and turned him to one side.
"Boy, beware how you cross me," he hissed into Dick's ears. "Beware, I say! I have known your father for years, and I have the knowledge in my possession which can send your father to the gallows."
"Checkmated! By Jove, but this is too bad."
Such were the words which issued from Pawnee Brown's lip as he swung around and saw the cavalrymen sitting on their horses at attention.
His disappointment was keen. In speaking of it afterwards he said:
"I never felt so bad in my life. I had promised to take the boomers through and I felt that I had disappointed nearly four thousand people who were looking to me with utmost confidence."
But disappointment was not the worst of it. Hardly had the command to halt been issued than the captain of the troops advanced toward the scout.
"Pawnee Brown!" he ejaculated, in surprise, and a smile of satisfaction crossed his face. "This is a great pleasure."
"Is it?" answered the great scout, coldly.
"It is indeed. Do you intend to throw up your hands?"
For the scout's hands had not yet been lifted skyward.
"This looks as if you meant to arrest me, captain."
"Why shouldn't I? You are at the head of the Kansas boomers, are you not?"
"I have that honor, yes."
"It's a question to me if it is an honor. You are transgressing the laws of the United States when you try to get into Oklahoma for homestead purposes."
"Say rather that we transgress the laws of the cattle kings, captain. Under the U. S. Homestead Law we have a perfect right to this land, if we can get in and stake our claims, and you know it."
"I know nothing of the sort. This talk about the cattle kings is all nonsense!" roared the cavalry officer. He knew Pawnee Brown was more than half right, but felt he must obey the orders he had received from his superiors. "I'll have to take you to the fort."
"All right, take me—if you can, captain," came the quick answer. "Don't you dare fire on me, for you know I am a crack shot and I promise I'll fire on you in return and lay you low!"
Thus speaking, the boomer wheeled about and sent Bonnie Bird off like a shot along the trail he had come.
The movement was so quick that for the moment the cavalry officer was paralyzed and knew not what to do. He raised his long pistol, but Pawnee Brown's stern threat rang in his ears and he hesitated about using the weapon, having no desire to be laid low.
"After him, men!" he roared, upon recovering his wits. "We must capture him!"
"Shall we fire, cap'n?" came from several, and a number of shining pistol barrels were leveled toward the great scout.
"N—no, capture him alive," came the hesitating reply; and away went the calvary men at a breakneck speed in pursuit.
Looking back over his shoulder, Pawnee saw them coming. To lessen the chances of being shot, he bent low over his faithful mare's neck.
"On, Bonnie, on!" he cried softly, and the beautiful animal seemed to understand that it was a race for life and death.
"Crack!" It was the report of a pistol close at hand. Looking among the trees, Pawnee Brown saw an arm wearing the colors of a cavalryman disappearing among the foliage of a nearby tree. He aimed his own weapon and pulled the trigger. A yell of pain followed.
The marksman had been Tucker, the fellow hired to take the great scout's life. Tucker had been on picket duty for the cavalry troop, but had failed to note Pawnee Brown's first movement in that direction. Seeing the scout coming, he had instantly thought of the promised reward and taken aim. The bullet had struck Pawnee Brown's shoulder, merely, however, scraping the skin. On the return fire Tucker was hit in the side and nearly broke his neck in a tumble backward into a hole behind him.
The chase was not of long duration. Although they had good steeds, not one of the cavalryman's horses could gain upon the scout's sturdy racing mare, and soon they dropped further and further behind. Seeing this, Pawnee Brown turned to the eastward, out of the ravine, and in three minutes had his pursuers entirely off the trail.
His face grew thoughtful as he allowed Bonnie Bird to drop into a walk. The cavalry had followed the wagon train westward—they were bound to keep the boomers in sight. What was to be done? Should he advise another movement during the night to come and then a forward dash?
"We might make it," he mused. "But if we did not there would be a fearful fight and possibly slaughter. I wish I knew just how matters were going at Washington."
Pawnee Brown had friends at the Capital, men who were doing their best to defeat the cattle kings by having a bill passed in Congress opening Oklahoma to settlement—a bill that would smooth the present difficulty for all concerned. He felt that the bill was not needed, yet it would be better to have such a law than to have some of the boomers killed before their rights could be established.
"I'll send a messenger off to the nearest telegraph station and telegraph for the news," he went on. "A day's delay may mean many lives saved. It shall never be said that Pawnee Brown rushed in, heedless of the danger to those who trusted in him."
It was not long before the scout reached the boomers' camp. Here he found several waiting for him.
"I want to see Pawnee Brown." It was Dan Gilbert, who was making his way through the crowd to the great scout's side. Gilbert held a message from Arkansas City. It was to the effect that Pawnee Brown should telegraph to Washington at once and wait until noon at Arkansas City for a reply.
Five minutes later Pawnee Brown was on the trail over which the wagon train had journeyed the night before. He had told Gilbert, Clemmer and the others of the nearness of the Government cavalrymen and had advised a halt until further orders from himself. Clemmer had promised to wait, although ready "ter swoop down on 'em, b' gosh, an' take wot belongs ter us," as he expressed himself.
The ride back to Arkansas City was an uneventful one, and arriving there, Pawnee Brown lost no time in visiting the telegraph office.
"A message for you," said the operator, and handed it over.
It was from Washington and stated: "The Oklahoma bill is now before the Lower House; wait for more news."
"I'm glad we've woke up those politicians at Washington," murmured the scout, and then wrote out a telegram in reply.
There was now nothing to do but to wait, and impatient as he was to rejoin the boomers, Pawnee Brown had to content himself until another message should reach him. To make the time pass more quickly the great scout went around to a number of places buying supplies that were much needed.
An hour later he found himself on the outskirts of the city, whence he had come to look up several wagons, to replace some that had broken down. He was galloping along on horseback when the sight of two men quarreling near the open doorway of a deserted barn caught his eye, and impelled by something which was more than curiosity, he turned in from the road to see how the quarrel might end. As he came closer he saw that one of the men was Mortimer Arbuckle!
"Hullo, what can this mean?" he cried, softly. "I thought Dick's father was still in bed from the effects of that dastardly night's work. Who can that stranger be?"
Dismounting, he tied Bonnie Bird to a tree and came forward, but in line with the barn, that he might not be seen. Soon he was within easy hearing distance of all that was being said.
"I want to know what brought you out here, Dike Powell?" he heard Mr. Arbuckle say in excited tones. "Did you follow me?"
"No, I did not, Arbuckle," came in reply. "What makes you think I did?"
"I was knocked down and robbed but a few nights ago, and my most valuable papers, as well as my money, were taken from me."
"Do you mean to insinuate that I am a thief?" cried Dike Powell.
"You are none too good for it. I have not forgotten how you used to sneak around my office in New York after information concerning my Western mining claims."
"You're getting mighty sharp, Arbuckle."
"I hope I am. I used to feel queer in my head at times, but—but—I think I am growing better of that."
As he spoke Mortimer Arbuckle drew his white hand across his forehead.
The attack and the adventure on the river had been fearful, but it really looked as if they were going to prove of benefit to him. His eyes were brighter than they had been for many a day. Pawnee Brown noticed, too, that his manner of talking was more direct than he usually employed.
"I hope for the boy's sake his mind is clearing," he thought.
"I think you are growing more queer—to accuse me," said Dike Powell. "I never harmed you."
"I know better. While I was on my back I thought it all over. Dike Powell, you are a villain, and if ever I get the chance I'll turn you over to the police. You have followed me to the West, and for no good purpose. I will unmask you."
"Will you? Not much!"
Thus speaking, Dike Powell leaped forward. He was a powerful man, and catching Mortimer Arbuckle by the throat, he would have borne the semi-invalid to the floor had not Pawnee Brown interfered.
There was a rush and a crack, as the scout's fist met Dike Powell's ear, and over the man rolled, to bring up against the side of the barn with a crash.
"Who—who hit me?" spluttered the rascal, as, half dazed, he staggered to his feet. "If I—Pawnee Brown!"
"Dike Powell!" ejaculated the scout, as he saw the fellow full in the face for the first time. "Where have you been these long years?"
"Oh, Pawnee, how glad I am that you came in," panted Mortimer Arbuckle, sinking down upon an old feed box. "The villain was—was——"
"I saw it all, Arbuckle; rest yourself. I will take care of this forger."
"Forger!" came simultaneously from Mortimer Arbuckle and from his assailant, but in different tones of voice. "Do you then know Dike Powell?"
"Yes, I know him as Powell Dike, a forger, who fled from Peoria a dozen years ago. And what do you know of him?"
"I know him as a Wall street sneak—a man who was forever hanging around, trying to get information out of which he might make a few dollars. I have accused him of following me to the West. I am inclined to think he robbed me——"
"I did not," ejaculated Powell Dike, for such really was his name.
"I believe you," replied Pawnee Brown. He had spoken to Dick and Rasco of this man. "But you know who did rob Mortimer Arbuckle," he went on, significantly.
"I—I—do not," answered Powell Dike, but his lips trembled.
"You lie, Dike. Now tell the truth."
Pawnee Brown saw the manner of man he had to deal with and tapped his pistol. Instantly Powell Dike fell upon his knees.
"Don't—don't shoot me!" he whined. "I'll tell all—everything. I am not dead positive, but—but I guess Louis Vorlange robbed Arbuckle."
Pawnee Brown looked at Mortimer Arbuckle to see what effect this declaration might have upon Dick's father. He saw the ex-stock broker start forward in amazement. Then he faltered, threw up his hands, and fell forward in a dead faint!