"The first thing, then, is to toss this feller overboard," remarked Step Hen, as he proudly touched the dead big-horn with the toe of his shoe, and tried to assume the air of a conquering hero; but his face was so sore, and his appearance so remarkable, that apparently his manner did not impress the guide very much.
"The sooner you get to water, and wash them scratches, the better," said Toby. "I've knowed more'n one feller have a bad time from gettin' clawed by eagles; and the doctor said as how 'twar blood poisonin'-like. But seems to me most of that might a kim from you bein' hit by their wings."
"Just what it did," replied Step Hen, though he looked a bit anxious. "And goodness gracious! how they could hit with 'em, though. Felt like you'd run against an electric fan, or something like that. Busted the skin every time too, and made the blood come. But never mind about that, Toby; shall I shove this thing over now?"
"Just as you say," replied the guide; "we'll be apt to find it when we get down; which I hope we can do and be safe, and sound in limb."
Apparently Toby was a little anxious himself about the result of the next step on the programme. The scout accordingly worked the dead sheep loose, and cast it over the edge. He watched it go bounding down with considerable apprehension that the other did not comprehend, until he heard Step Hen remark in a relieved tone:
"Didn't break either horn; that's all hunky dory!"
"Don't you think we ort to let the rest know what we're expectin' to do?" suggested the guide just then.
"Why, that's a good idea, Toby," replied StepHen. "And while we can't see our chums, there's a way of communicatin' with 'em. Anyhow, I c'n tell 'em to send down a piece of string, and pull up a message I'll write. Davy Jones knows the code enough for that."
He began making a series of queer sounds, that at first considerably amused the old guide; but when an answer came from far above, Toby realized that there did promise to be more merit in the signal code of the scouts.
Then a little later Step Hen exclaimed triumphantly:
"Here comes the end of the string, Toby, with a stone tied to it. If they can swing it in now, we'll be able to fasten this message I've written to the end of it, and send it up. Then the boys will know what we expect to do; and they'll try and get down some other way, to join us before night comes on. Because it'd be kind of tough if we couldn't bunk together through the night."
After some manipulation with the piece of broken branch they succeeded in getting hold of the dangling cord, which Smithy had carried along with him, because of some reason or other, possibly from the same principle that caused Bumpus to carry that rope around wherever he went, thinking that it might come in handy sometime or other.
Having dispatched the note to the other scoutsby means of the cord channel, Step Hen and the guide started to descend from their perch.
The way was anything but easy, especially to the boy. He had been weakened more than he realized by his hard struggle with those two fierce eagles. And perhaps his numerous wounds, slight as they seemed on the surface, made him less capable of keeping such a firm grip as he had before reaching the ledge. But the same old indomitable pluck held good. When a drop of perspiration, mingled with blood from those scratches, dimmed his vision, Step Hen would dash one hand impatiently across his eyes, and then go right on clambering downward.
Toby kept as near the boy as he could. Had he possessed a rope he would certainly have fastened himself to Step Hen, as a means of protecting the lad against an ugly fall; just as the glacier climbers do when ascending to the snow-covered summit of some lofty mountain peak; so that should one slip, another, having a firm hold at the time, could bear him up.
Again and again he cautioned his companion against trusting his weight on some inviting projecting knob of stone, which he himself had tried, and found wanting; for the guide had insisted on going first as a sort of pilot; when his real object was to be in position to clutch hold of the boy, if possible, should Step Hen make a bad move and fall.
But they finally managed to reach the bottom without any accident happening, for which both of them were thankful enough. They threw themselves upon the rocks, utterly exhausted, and panting for breath. Step Hen was indeed very near a complete collapse; for the boy had been under a terrible strain recently, both mentally and bodily.
After a little, however, when he had pumped much good air into his system, and regained some of his lost breath, Step Hen remembered.
"I hadn't ought to be lyin' around this way, when those fellers up yonder are all tied up in knots waitin' to know whether we've made the riffle, or got stuck part way down. So here goes to tell 'em. They know from my note what we want 'em to try and do next."
So he started in again with those queer sounds that seemed to climb up the face of the cliff as though on ladders that were invisible. And there came back similar sounds, which Step Hen listened to with eagerness, finally crying out:
"They understand that we're safe down here; and Davy says as how he thinks he knows a way to work around. And now, since we've got some time on our hands, Toby, let's look about for a place to spend the night."
But Toby had not forgotten something that he had spoken of before.
"As for the camp, I'll take keer of that," he said;"while you drop down aside this leetle crick here, and wash your face and hands. The sooner ye git them 'ere scratches clean, the better, I reckon. Heaps of trouble kin grow out of a little keerlessness in that regard."
"I guess you're right," replied Step Hen, trying to make a grimace, but without much success, because the blood had dried on his face, and made it feel as stiff as though it had been duly starched on a washday at home.
So he complied with the ruling of the guide; and while the cool water made his cuts smart more or less, to begin with, still there was a sense of satisfaction in the cleanly feeling that soon followed.
When he got back to the side of the guide again Step Hen discovered that Toby had found the place he was looking for, close to where the big-horn lay. Already smoke was beginning to rise, showing that Giraffe might not be the only one in the party who knew just how to go about making a cooking fire.
The scout watched Toby with considerable interest. He learned that when a man has lived all his life in the borderland, he has picked up a good many useful little wrinkles that a wideawake scout ought to know; and Step Hen determined to profit by his experience in the company of Toby Smathers.
Besides, now that all the excitement was over, Step Hen secretly confessed to feeling more or lesstired; though had any of his mates been around, he would doubtless have scorned to display this fact. It was nice to just stretch out by the cheery blaze, and see some one else quite willing to do the work.
The guide was only too glad to assume all the burden of getting supper, such as it promised to be. Secretly he was proud of Step Hen. He had started in with rather a poor opinion of the boy's qualities, and thought him given somewhat to boasting, and practical jokes. But he had found that he was full of grit, gave promise of being a good hunter, and was ready to attempt any sort of task, it mattered not how difficult.
The way Step Hen fought those two eagles, alone and unaided, on that narrow ledge, had aroused the ardent admiration of Toby. While he worked, he cast many a secret glance toward where Step Hen was stretched out; and each time the guide would give a little satisfied nod, and a chuckle, just as though he were passing a critical judgment, and saying to himself:
"All wool, and a yard wide; he'll do, I sure reckons. He's got the real stuff in him, anybody with one eye kin see. And I'm sure goin' to tell Mr. Scout Master that same, too. He deserves to be put up a few notches arter this."
Could Step Hen but have read what was passing through Toby's mind just then, he would havethrilled with deepest satisfaction. Why, the laurel wreath of the victor could not have given him one half the solid pleasure that would come could he but know he had won the admiration of this experienced forest ranger, and trapper-guide.
Meanwhile, after he had the cooking fire under full way, Toby proceeded to skin the Rocky mountain sheep, making sure to handle the excellent horns carefully, as Step Hen begged, since they were almost perfect.
"He ain't a youngster, and at the same time he don't seem to be soveryold," the guide remarked, as he worked, cutting up the sheep;"so, p'raps we kin get our teeth workin' on him some. I never was much of a hand for this sorter meat; but in such a pinch as this I kin eat even mutton. Anyhow, it'll sure keep us from goin' hungry, and that's the game right now. I hopes as how the other boys kin get here afore dark sets in."
"That makes me remember I'm neglecting my duty; because I ought to be lettin' out a whoop now and then, just to sort of guide Davy and Smithers."
With that Step Hen managed to get to his feet, though he was surprised to find how stiff he had become, just sitting there. Toby grinned to see him wince, as he stretched first one arm, and then a leg. He knew what it meant. The strain of the recent engagement on the ledge, besides all thathanging desperately to the face of the precipice, was telling on the boy's muscles.
When Step Hen let out a loud cry, he was pleased to get a response in the well-known voice of Davy Jones. The call came from a point not far away, and Toby immediately declared that the other scouts must be about half-way down.
"They're agoin' to make it, all right, I do believe!" Step Hen exclaimed.
"Looks that way, for a fact," the guide responded.
The day was almost done, at least down at the foot of that great wall that stretched upward for hundreds of feet. Lying there, resting the back of his head on both hands, and looking upward to where some buzzards were wheeling against the sky, Step Hen could hardly believe that he had actually descended all that distance in safety. He shuddered as he contemplated what an ugly tumble he must have experienced, if those fighting eagles had succeeded in knocking him off the ledge.
And just as the shades of approaching night began to gather around them, with a rather appetizing odor from cooking meat filling the immediate neighborhood, there came a hail from a point close at hand.
"Hello! there, glad to see you're able to sit up, and take notice, after all the row you kicked up. First thing Smithy and me want to know is, whatunder the sun was it all about?" and with these words the two scouts staggered into camp, throwing themselves wearily down beside their chum.
The scouts were pretty hungry, and they united in pronouncing the supper "just prime." But then the conditions would not allow of any other verdict; and as Toby regretfully declared, they all had good teeth, while his were getting "frayed and worn."
But after a period of stress and storm, a haven does seem good indeed; and sitting there, chatting, alongside that blaze, which had now been built up into a real camp-fire, the three boys were feeling a thousand per cent better than they had a couple of hours before.
Of course Step Hen had told all about his great combat with the two fighting eagles. He even led the doubting Davy along the foot of the descent, with a blazing torch in his hand, until they had found both of the dead birds, which they lugged back to camp with them, to show to the wondering Smithy as positive evidence of the truth of the story.
And after that the boys would surely feel more respect for Step Hen's prowess as a hunter, and the possessor of unlimited nerve.
Smithy declared that nothing on earth could tempt him to try and descend that precipice where Step Hen had done it; and was amazed when Davy announced that they had accomplished a feat very nearly as hazardous; only, coming a yard at a time, they had not noticed the danger.
"I only hope nothing will run off with my sheep," Smithy had remarked, plaintively, at one time, after they had finished their meal, and were just lounging around, taking things easy.
"How about that, Toby?" asked Davy Jones; "will wolves be apt to rob Smithy of his hard-earned laurels?"
"Don't know anything about that ere," grinned the guide; "but if so be you mean will they come around, and eat his mutton, I'm afraid that's jest what'll happen. But," he added, as Smithy gave a plaintive little bleat, "they cain't eat them big horns, you know; and I reckons as how that's the main thing you wants, ain't it?"
"Oh! yes, if that is so, I shall stop worrying. But I surely do want to carry that souvenir back with me; because, you know that is my first game," Smithy went on to say.
"Wall," remarked the guide, with a nod, "you had ought to be proud of 'em; 'cause they ain'tmany fellers as kin say the fust wild game they ever knocked down was a big-horn. I've knowed old hunters as couldn't ever git one, try as hard as they might. We had a heap of luck to-day, let me tell you, boys, a heap of it. And for mutton, 'twan't soverytough, either."
"Oh! I thought I heard some one give a funny little cough just then!" exclaimed Step Hen, suddenly sitting up straight.
"You was correct at that," said the guide, quietly drawing his rifle closer to him, as though caution were second nature. "There is some parties accomin' down the canyon here, and headin' for our fire."
"The boys, mebbe!" exclaimed Davy Jones.
"No, I don't think they be," Toby Smathers added, straining his eyes to catch the first glimpse of the newcomers; for in this wild region, strangers are not to be always recognized as friends until they have proven themselves such.
"There's two of 'em," remarked Step Hen, "and they're men, I c'n see."
"Hello! there, don't shoot, we're friends, all right!" called a voice, so peculiar in itself that Toby immediately laughed aloud, as though he had no difficulty in recognizing it.
"Is that Sheriff Bob McNulty?" he asked.
"Nobody else," came the reply; "and unless I'm mighty far off my base, that must be my old friend, Toby Smathers, the forest ranger."
The two men came on to the fire. The boys saw that the one whom Toby had called Sheriff Bob was a tall, angular man, wearing the regulation wide-brimmed soft hat, and long black coat that sheriffs out in the Wild and Woolly West seem to so frequently think a badge of their calling.
He impressed them as a man of sterling character; but they did not entertain the same sort of an opinion toward his companion, who was a middle-aged man, lanky and sinister in appearance, and with a crafty gleam in his shifting eyes that somehow gave Step Hep and Davy Jones a cold feeling of distrust.
"Why, what's this mean, Toby; you a forest ranger camping with a parcel of kids?" exclaimed the sheriff, throwing a quick, interrogative glance toward his companion, which the other answered with a negative shake of the head, after giving each of the three boys a keen look, while a shade of bitter disappointment crossed his crafty face.
"Oh! it was an off season for me, Sheriff Bob," replied the guide, laughing; "an' I thought I'd try playing guide again, this time to a bunch of Boy Scouts what come out to the Rockies from the Far East, to hunt big game."
The sheriff grinned broadly, as though that struck him a good deal in the nature of a joke.
"Boy Scouts, eh?" he continued, as he calmly sat him down by the fire; "well, I've heard a heapabout them, but these are the first I've set eyes on. They brought their nerve along with 'em I reckon, Toby?" and he chuckled again while speaking.
"That's the way I thought about 'em fust pop, Sheriff Bob," remarked Toby, in a quiet, convincing tone; "but I've found out that I sized 'em up a lot too low. They's eight of 'em in the bunch, and the rest is keepin' camp down by that willow that stands by the spring hole in the valley. We came out to-day to try and get a big-horn."
The sheriff sniffed the air at this.
"Say, you don't mean to tell me they shot a sheep?" he demanded.
"Two of the same, and at a pretty fair distance too. We got 'em both. This here, who is known as Smithy, had never killed anything bigger'n a mouse afore, I understands, an' precious few of 'em; while Step Hen here, he's had considerable experience up in Maine, which is said to be a good hunting ground."
The sheriff pursed up his lips, and arched his eyebrows.
"Well," he remarked, "I'd like to shake hands with you both, boys, because you've done what I never yet accomplished in my life—shot a big-horn."
"But sho! that ain't near all," declared the proud Toby; "they got a couple of big grizzlies in the bargain; and right this very day Step Hen, heclumb half way down that cliff thar, to shove his sheep loose; and had to fight for his life agin a pair o' cantankerous eagles what had a nest up thar. I went to his help, an' thar the birds lie, Sheriff Bob!"
The officer whistled again.
"Thisisa surprise, I must say," he remarked. "But Toby, if so be you could spare us a mouthful of that same mutton, why, we'd be obliged. We've got to be going in a little while, because, you see, I'm up here to assist this gentleman, who's name is Mr. Artemus Rawson, and a lawyer from Denver, look up a boy who's his nephew, and who's stolen something his uncle values a heap. We learned he was last seen on the hike for this country roundabout; and I'm bound to find him, by hook or by crook. I always do, you remember, Toby; none of them ever gets away from Sheriff Bob."
Step Hen almost cried out, such was the thrill that shot through him. Almost instinctively his eyes sough those of Davy Jones, and a look of intelligence passed between them.
Rawson, the sheriff said his name was, and he was a lawyer from Denver, looking for a boy who was his nephew, and whose name therefore was likely to be the same!
Surely he must be referring to their new friend, Aleck. But the sheriff had declared the boy to be a thief; and they could never believe Aleck that,with his frank face, his clear eyes, and engaging manners. There must be some sort of a mistake; or else this so-called Artemus Rawson was a fraud of the first water, and just trying to get possession of that secret connected with the hidden mine, the same as Colonel Kracker!
Step Hen put a finger on his lips, and that told Davy to keep quiet, so that the others might not suspect their comrades in the other camp were entertaining the very boy these men sought at that particular minute.
And when he had the chance, Step Hen whispered a few words to Smithy that rather startled that worthy, who had apparently not noticed what was being said when the sheriff was talking; he having hurried over to try and cut some slices from the carcase of the big-horn, as he wished to get into the habit of doing these handy things about camp.
There now remained but Toby; and from the sly wink which the guide gave Step Hen, upon seeing the anxious look on the boy's face, it was plain that he had grasped the situation immediately, and they need not fear that he would betray Aleck.
While the two men were eating a little later, Step Hen tried to make up his mind as to what sort of a party this so-called Artemus Rawson might be. If he indeed proved to be a genuine brother of the man who had discovered the silver lode, and the real uncle of Aleck, then he must have been a differentsort of a man altogether from the boy's father. On his small, rat-like face scheming was written plainly; and the chances were, Step Hen concluded, that he too knew something about the "find" Aleck had lately made, and was plotting to get possession of that precious chart to the mine.
This gave Step Hen cause for sudden excitement. The sheriff had just said they could not stay all night with Toby and his charges; that they were bound in the direction of the valley, called bybusiness. Then the chances were that they knew something of the boy's plans, and that he might be run across heading into the valley from the other side. They had laid out to meet him on the way, and take him by surprise.
What bothered Step Hen was the fact that the sheriff had just said they were likely to come upon the camp of the scouts on the way, between then and morning, and in case they did, he promised himself the pleasure of dropping in to take a bite of breakfast with the smart scoutmaster and his chums, whom he would like to meet very much.
Step Hen worried over this very nearly all the time the two men were eating. He thought those rat-like eyes of Artemus Rawson, so-called, were often searching his face, as though the man suspected that he knew something about the boy the sheriff had been engaged to find; and that being the case, the man would even go out of their way tovisit the camp of the scouts, to see whether the one they sought might be stopping there.
And how under the sun could Thad be warned of the impending trouble?
"Well, I'm glad they're departed; because somehow I couldn't fancy that Mr. Rawson the least little bit," remarked Smithy, an hour later.
"Do you really think they have gone for good, Toby?" Step Hen asked, eagerly; "or might they just make believe, and hang around here to see if we had Aleck Rawson hidden away somewhere?"
"Oh! they're gone, that's right enough," replied the guide; "but I'm kinder of the notion they'll make it a p'int to pay a visit to the other camp by mornin', and p'raps sneak in on 'em by surprise like."
"Then you're of a mind that they have suspicions?" asked Step Hen.
"That thar Artemus Rawson I reckon he allers has s'picions of everybody," replied Toby; "an' I seen him watchin' you two boys pass winks an' nods when the sheriff, he happened to say the gent's name was Rawson."
"Then he must have guessed that we knew something about Aleck?" declared Davy.
"Reckon as how he did," Toby responded.
"But if that was so, how did it come that he never once asked us if we knew a boy by the name of Aleck Rawson?" Step Hen went on.
"He was jest a leetle too slick for that," the guide answered. "He knowed that you'd made up your mind to deny everything; and he guessed how the land laid. So right now, I shouldn't wonder a bit but what he's atellin' Bob all about it; an' showin' him how they'll as like as not find the boy they want right smack in the camp of the Boy Scouts."
"You're right, Toby!" cried Step Hen. "Now I remember that the sheriff seemed a little bit inclined to put up all night with us; but it was the other who said he wanted to be on the move. He even asked how long it would take to reach the main valley over on the other side of this ridge, by followin' the canyon route; and vowed he was good for a few hours' tramp, if the sheriff was agreeable."
"Yes, and he told how one of their hosses kim down lame, so they had to leave both animals in a place to rest up while they was in the mountains," remarked the guide; "but it's sure too bad the way things is a settin' for that boy."
"You mean Aleck, I guess, don't you, Toby?" asked Step Hen.
"Yes, Aleck Rawson. I wanted to see the kidgit that mine his dad found years ago; but seems to me the woods is full of people as think they orter have a claim on it, afore the fambly of Jerry Rawson. If so be this ole chap is a uncle to the boy, he's a bad egg; I kin see that in his face. But Sheriff Bob thinks he's doin' the right thing in tryin' to arrest Aleck; and he'll take him away, if he ever lays eyes on him. I say, it's too bad."
"If we only could warn them?" said Smithy, disconsolately.
"Mebbe we can," remarked Step Hen, eagerly looking at the guide in the same breath, as though it depended a good deal upon Toby whether this idea could be carried out, or not.
"Oh! do you really mean it, Step Hen?" demanded Smithy, brightening up; for he seemed to be conscious of a new sense of reliance in the other nowadays, something similar to that he felt in Thad himself; Step Hen had been "doing things," and that alone breeds confidence.
"I'm wanting to ask Toby something first, before I promise," remarked the other, cautiously, as became one who valued his word not lightly.
"Go on, then; what is it?" asked the guide.
"Think hard, please," Step Hen continued, very soberly; "and tell me if you believe you could take me to a place, not a great ways off, where we would be able to see the tents of the home camp, if daylight was here."
Toby's face turned into a grin; evidently he grasped the idea that had flashed into the boy's mind. After having seen how Giraffe had "talked" with Aleck by means of "fire flashes," when the Rawson boy was away up on that ledge of the cliff, Toby was ready to believe these wonderful scouts capable of almost anything in the line of "next miracles."
"Say, yes, I kin do that same now; that is, if you think you'd be able to climb a leetle bit more," he broke out with.
"Oh! I am not all tuckered out yet," declared Step Hen, proudly; "a bit sore from my scratches, and that funny business, when I had to jump around so lively with two savage eagles tryin' to tear my eyes out; but you just show me, Toby, and see if I don't toe the mark, like a scout always should."
"I'm sure you will," said Toby, admiringly; and the look on his face gave Step Hen a sense of reward for all he had suffered; in fact he could not remember ever feeling so pleased before, because he knew Toby Smathers was reckoned a prime judge of men, as they ran.
"How long would it take us to get up there?" asked Step Hen, carelessly; yet no doubt with more or less anxiety, for he was conscious of the fact that however willing the spirit might be, the flesh was weak; and it meant a double trip, to go and come again.
"P'raps half an hour might do it," was the response of the guide.
"Up a place like this?" gasped Smithy, pointing to the wall near them.
"Well, I should hope not," said Davy Jones. "They'd be crazy to try that sort of thing, with only the moonlight to help."
Step Hen did not say anything, but nevertheless he waited with bated breath to hear the reply of the guide, and seemed easier in his mind when Toby remarked:
"I don't doubt as he'd foller me, if I sez we must climb up to the top of that same cliff agin; but 'tain't necessary. This time we foller a canyon up, till we gets to a p'int as gives ye a view of the valley. I don't sure know, but I reckons we orter to be able to ketch a glimpse of the fire."
"Then let's start right now!" cried Step Hen; "I'm all worked up with eagerness to block the little game that the old Rawson uncle is settin' up for poor Aleck. We said that we'd see the boy through, and we're going to do it, or drop in our tracks atryin'."
He managed to get on his feet, though only with an effort.
"Oh! yes, I admit I'm some stiff," he said in answer to Smithy's look of sympathy; "and I'd like as not let Davy do it in my place; only he ain't up in sendin' messages as much as I am. WishGiraffe was here; he's the boss hand at that. But p'raps I c'n make Thad understand. I only hope we get the camp, all right, that's all."
It was the spirit that makes heroes that forced Step Hen to quit that cozy camp, where he was feeling so nice and comfortable; and follow after the tireless guide, when he walked on up the canyon. But they would not hear a single groan from him, if he had to make his lips bleed, biting them with his teeth. Step Hen had always wondered just how the old martyrs felt, when they were being led to the stake; he believed he knew now; for he experienced a fierce sense of exultation with every twinge of pain that walking gave him; but with set teeth he kept grimly on.
That was a long half hour to the scout. He would never forget it to his dying day. And when Toby finally, after what seemed an eternity, announced that they must be very close on the point where in the moonlight much of the big valley could be seen dimly beyond, Step Hen mentally thanked his stars again and again.
Presently Toby turned, and looked.
"Here she is!" he remarked; and the boy grunted in reply; for there may be times when the spirit of thanksgiving is too deep for utterance.
"I see her," Toby remarked almost immediately afterwards.
"Do you mean the fire, Toby?" demanded Step Hen.
"It cain't be anything else, even though they've let it get low. And now we've a job afore us, to get some blaze started right here. Wood ain't too plenty round these parts. Let's look for some."
But when Step Hen started after him, the guide made him sit down to rest, promising to come to him when the fire was good and ready.
"Your part of the work will begin about that time; let me do this fire makin'," the good-hearted guide insisted; and the boy was only too willing to sink down.
A short time afterwards, when Toby came to announce that the fire was in full blast, with plenty of good brands that might be used for torches; he found poor Step Hen sound asleep, just as he had dropped, being utterly exhausted. The guide looked down at him with pity. He had taken a great fancy for the plucky scout; and disliked arousing him the worst kind; but there was no other way.
Step Hen had to be shaken half a dozen times before he would consent to open his heavy eyes; then he stared up at Toby, as though for the moment he could not place things.
"I got the fire started; and there's aplenty of wood handy arter all, for you to use as torches when you signal the camp!" said the guide, kindly.
"Oh!" cried Step Hen sitting up, "to be sure; and I really think I must have been dozing while you were doing all the work, Toby. Give me a hand, won't you, please; I'm ashamed to say my legs seem so silly stiff at the knees I just can't straighten 'em out? Wow! to think of me being such a baby as to feel that little circus this way. I'm real ashamed, that's what."
"You ain't got no call to be, I promise you, boy," declared the other, a tremor in his voice; "You showed the pluck of a grown man. And if I could a took yer place, which in course I couldn't, never havin' been trained to wigwag, or handle a telegraph key, I'd sure let you sleep on; for ye desarve it, that's right."
Step Hen made a few movements, regardless of the pain it gave him, so as to get his arms in working order; because he knew he would have to use them a great deal, if he were lucky enough to get an answer to his signals.
The guide showed him where to stand, where he would be in the shadow, and the blazing, moving torch show; and he then pointed out the distant fire, down through the gap in the mountain chain.
"They ain't touched it since we kim here," he remarked; "but that makes me think it might be done any minit now. So p'raps ye'd better show me the way to fling that there torch around, to let 'emknow we're here, an' wantin' to talk. I kin do that part, I reckons, an' save you some work."
Step Hen was agreeable, for he knew that he would have all he could do later on, to handle that beacon, should he find a chance to send the message he wanted the scoutmaster to get.
For some time Toby waved his torch around without there being any response; and it began to look as though he might have all his trouble for his pains, when Step Hen was heard to give a little eager cry.
"There!" he exclaimed, "I believe I saw a light move, just then. Yes, look, Toby, there it is again; and as sure as you live, they're answering us! Now, give me the torch. I only hope I haven't forgotten all I knew about sending messages, because all poor Aleck's hopes for his future may hang on my being able to warn them the sheriff and old Artemus Rawson are heading that way. Now watch close, Toby! I'm going to start in."
Step Hen was all of a tremble when he first began to handle that burning splinter of wood, provided by Toby Smathers, to serve as a fiery pen; and with which he hoped to write letters in the dark background he had chosen for his location.
Just as he had himself declared, regretfully now, Step Hen had never been a shining light in this code business. Indeed, up to lately, he had rather considered the whole thing something of a great bore; and when ordered out on the hills to wave signal flags, he had only obeyed under protest. There had been plenty of things he much preferred to this sort of detail work.
But after seeing how successfully a method of communication had been established between the scouts in camp, and Aleck, when the latter was being held a prisoner up on that shelf of rock, Step Hen had had his eyes opened. He realized what a really valuable thing a little knowledge along these lines was apt to prove, at most any time. And he had then and there resolved to improve his scanty share of information whenever the chance came.
Right now he was secretly glad that since thatoccasion he had been asking some questions along the line of acquiring information. He had even had half an hour's practice with Thad, early in the morning, sending and receiving messages.
How fortunate that was, Step Hen reflected, just now, when he found himself placed in a position where a knowledge of wigwag work was going to prove of the utmost importance to the boy whom the scouts had taken in charge.
At the same time it was with considerable nervousness that he started in to ask his first question. He meant to inquire if the one answering him were Thad himself; but when he had made the last letter of the message Step Hen was afraid it might seem so bungled that all he would receive might be the well-known signal:
"Don't understand—repeat message!"
But to his delight there came the three letters:
"Yes."
Encouraged by this, Step Hen became more ambitious. He spelled out his own name, and added a few more words:
"This is Step Hen—something important!"
Then he almost held his breath as he waited to see what effect this would have. The answer began to come back, slowly and positively, Thad allowing plenty of time for the other to make sure of every sign. And staring eagerly, unconsciously spellingaloud just as he received the message, Step Hen caught this:
"All right—understand—let us have news."
"It's going splendidly, Toby!" cried Step Hen, almost ready to jump up and down, in his excitement and joy, despite his wearied condition. "Thad's taking it, word for word. I reckon I c'n make him understandsomething, even if I am such a big bungler at this thing. But I tell you right now, after this I'm going in for wigwag work the hardest you ever saw. It's the greatest stunt a scout can follow up. Why, it's worth everything else at such a time as this. Now to tell him about the two men headed that way, and how they're after Aleck Rawson."
With that Step Hen once more applied himself to the task before him. His heart was set on doing something that the scoutmaster would compliment him on when next they met. Step Hen had aroused himself to the fact that an occasion like this demanded that a scout should prove his worth. It might mean a merit medal for him, if his services were deemed of sufficient value.
Toby, seeing that the torch would not be likely to last out the labored conversation that was to follow, busied himself in getting another ready. As he was as good a hand at a fire as Giraffe, this did not prove a heavy task.
Meanwhile Step Hen kept on sending his messagesin short, jerky sentences. He lacked confidence in himself, and dared not launch boldly forth in a description of the strange thing that had happened since the four of them had made camp, after their big-horn hunt. When he had spelled a sentence he would almost invariably add the query, "understand?" meaning to repeat if the answer came in the negative. But Thad was an expert at this sort of work, and could puzzle out the meaning of what Step Hen so blunderingly sent, almost as though he might be a mind reader.
"Two men came into our camp after dark!" went the opening message.
"Yes," Thad replied, briefly, and evidently not meaning to say anything calculated to confuse the signal sender.
"One a sheriff, name Bob McNulty."
"Yes."
"Other older man,—name Artemus Rawson.—Get that?"
There was a little interval at that. Perhaps Thad might be figuring it out; or he may have mentioned the name aloud, and be speaking with some one who was near by, possibly asking Aleck if he recognized the name.
"Yes," came the flash, presently.
Step Hen had begun to grow cold. He felt that if he once found himself cornered, and making mistakes, he was apt to get rattled in his excitement,and forget the little he really did know about sending and receiving. So when Thad replied that he had grasped even that name, the sender found himself imbued with another relay of confidence. When he started in once more, he sent a little faster, though the scoutmaster at the first opportunity warned him to go slow and sure.
"Say looking for Aleck—that he has robbed uncle—headed down valley when left here—Understand that?"
"Yes, but not so fast. Go on," came the reply.
Step Hen understood that Thad gave him this warning, not because he was himself unable to receive at that rate, for he had seen the patrol leader and Allan go smoothly along at twice the pace. He was thinking of Step Hen, for he knew what was apt to happen if once the other overstepped the bounds, and muddled himself up; as like as not he would get his signals mixed, and after that be utterly unable to send coherently.
"Be with you by morning—we think they suspect Aleck there—you know what to do."
"Yes. Good for you. Anymore?"
Step Hen sighed with relief. The great burden of responsibility had fallen from his shoulders on to those broad ones of the scoutmaster. Yes, Thad would surely know what to do—he always did when the emergency arose. And that was whatmade his chums feel such implicit confidence in their leader.
And Step Hen thought that while he was about it, and the message business working so very smoothly, he might as well let Thad know of their success; so he managed to say:
"We got two sheep!"
"Good again."
"Smithy shot one—I got other—had warm time I tell you. Anything new at the camp?"
"Sure. They came and paid us a visit," Thad replied, slowly, so that not a word did Step Hen lose as he spelled the message out.
"Do you mean Kracker?" he demanded.
"Yes. He tried to ride over us rough-shod; but we took him down a peg. Sent the three men away—kept their guns—looking out for them all the time—if you happen to meet hold them off—Toby will know."
That was an extra long one to take, and several times Step Hen had to wave his torch so as to interrupt the sender, and have him go back to the last period to repeat what he had to communicate. For of course Step Hen, like all new beginners in wigwag work, telegraphy, and kindred things, was a better hand at sending than receiving; because in the one case he knew in his own mind what was coming next, and was not apt to get confused; while in taking a message, if he lost one small fraction ofthe same, while his mind was grappling with that, he failed to catch the next letter, and thus was apt to become hopelessly entangled.
But thanks tothe intelligent manner in which Thad managed his end of the air wire, and the positive way in which he moved his fire pencil, the message was finally all grasped, though Step Hen was rapidly becoming exhausted by his efforts, and the mental strain that bore on him so heavily.
"Better quit thar!" advised the guide, who kept a close watch on things, and was able to understand just what the tired boy was enduring.
"Pretty soon, Toby," replied Step Hen, slowly. "I've done better than I ever thought I would, and Thad knows about that Artemus Rawson. He'll see to it that Aleck isn't around when they come to camp. Oh! ain't I glad though I brushed up my code work with him early in the morning, though. That business with Aleck in the night made me ashamed to be so dull. I want to ask him one more question, for there he's waving to know if I'm done."
"Get through quick, then; we orter be back in camp," said the guide, not unkindly, but because he saw the condition of Step Hen.
"What is it?" Thad was signaling, waiting each time after asking the question, to receive an answer.
"Will you have Aleck hide himself?" asked the other.
"Sure thing."
"We'll head back to camp in morning—have to get Smithy's horns first," went on Step Hen.
"Has he taken to growing a pair?" Thad asked, quizzically.
"His sheep I mean—lies back a bit—look for us about noon."
"That all?"
"Yes. Good-bye!"
The last wavering movements of Thad's torch far away in the distance told that he was echoing this concluding word. Then it vanished.
The talk-fest was over; and Step Hen felt that at least he had done himself proud for one who had paid so little attention to this really important adjunct to the education of a Boy Scout.
"And mark me, Toby," he mumbled as the guide kindly threw an arm about his tottering figure, though Step Hen hardly comprehended the fact, "I'm agoin' to take up wigwag work after this, sure I am. Never thought it could be so interestin'. It's sure great. Here's our camp, ain't it? You tell the boys what I did, won't you Toby; I'm feelin' kinder tired like? Guess I'll sit down a spell."
Davy Jones and Smithy were wild to know how it had all turned out; and while the murmur of the guide's voice sounded, as he related the story of themessage sending, poor played-out Step Hen sank to the ground, dead for sleep.
In less than two minutes he was lost to the world, the last thing he heard being the low voice of Toby Smathers, recounting the recent splendid feat of the scout whose message had undoubtedly saved Aleck Rawson from impending trouble.
"There they come!"
It was the observant "Old Eagle Eye," as some of the boys called Giraffe, who gave utterance to these words.
Early morning was at hand. All through the balance of the night those left in the camp in the valley had been momentarily expecting to have the sheriff and his older companion drop in on them; but possibly Artemus may have found himself unable to travel as fast as his ambition would force him, and the pair had been compelled to rest up somewhere on the road.
Every one in the camp was of course on the line of duty at daybreak. While Bumpus and Bob White started to get breakfast, Giraffe and Allanwere using their eyes as best they could, seeing that the mists still hung over the valley, obscuring things at a little distance.
Thad was invisible, also Aleck. Truth to tell they had betaken themselves off within an hour after that astounding message was received from the far-distant point where Step Hen waved his fiery torch.
Of course, one of the first things Thad had done was to question the other concerning this man who called himself Artemus Rawson. Aleck admitted that he was in truth his own uncle; but added that the lawyer from Denver had fallen under the same spell as many others, and was allowing himself to dream of being the one to re-discover the long-lost mine.
Aleck had said that it seemed as though every one who heard about it became imbued with a mad desire to possess the treasure. There was Kracker who had made several long searching trips up here with that one object in view; and was even then doing everything in his power to get possession of the secret.
Crafty Uncle Artemus had gone about it in a different way. He had hung around the dwelling-place of the widow, and in his sly, lawyer-like method, tried to learn what was going on. He suspected that the secret of the location of the mine had been discovered in some way, from the changein the atmosphere about the Rawson home, and the air of excitement that could not easily be subdued; but no matter how he tried, he could not learn just what it all meant.
Then came the sudden vanishing of Aleck. This must have given the lawyer points and he started after the boy. His accusation concerning his nephew having robbed him was of course all a part of a fine little scheme he had hatched up. While the big prospector believed in actual force to squeeze the secret from the unwilling lips of the lad; shrewd Uncle Artemus was inclined to try and make a show of having the law on his side.
But in both cases, actually robbery was intended.
And Thad believed every word of the explanation made by Aleck. He could not have done otherwise, looking in those frank and fearless eyes, and reading the clean soul of the Rawson boy.
So the scoutmaster had decided that he and Aleck would disappear from the valley camp for a short time, leaving no trail by which they could be followed. He did not tell a single one of his chums just what the plan was, because he was desirous of keeping the secret. Then, in case the sheriff questioned them concerning the movements of the missing two, they could truthfully declare they did not know a thing about them.
But Thad made preparations looking to the carrying-out of a bold project which he and theRawson boy had talked over between themselves. This was nothing more nor less than a hunt for the long-hidden silver mine!
Thad thought that the sooner Aleck made sure his little chart, found concealed in the back of that small pocket mirror which his dying father had placed in his hands, was correct, the better.
And that accounted for several queer things he did on leaving camp, one of which, the taking of the only lantern they had brought with them, astonished Bumpus very much indeed, not to mention Giraffe and Bob White.
The Fox had not been invited to join in the expedition; but later on it was found that he had disappeared. Still, no one was worried, for it seemed to be taken for granted that he must have followed Thad and Aleck. They remembered that the latter had claimed a long-standing friendship with the Fox. And it was also known that the Crow boy had become an ardent admirer of the scoutmaster, whom he believed to be a chief worth serving.
When Old Eagle Eye, then, announced that the two men were coming, the others craned their necks to look. Allan told them not to appear too curious; and so those who were busy at the fire went on with their culinary labors, cooking a bountiful breakfast, as it seemed that they might have company.
Sheriff Bob and the lawyer soon strode intocamp—at least the officer did the striding part, for old Artemus seemed pretty nearly fagged out. A burning desire to acquire a glorious fortune so easily was all that kept him up, otherwise he would never have been able to have stood the long tramp as he did.
The first thing the sheriff did after replying to the salutation of Allan, was to scan each one of the four boys in turn, and then turning to his companion, say tersely:
"None of these the one you want, I reckon, sir?"
The old Denver lawyer looked dreadfully disappointed. His ferrit-like eyes had flitted from one to another of the scouts, and each time he changed base his long cunning face grew more like a blank.
"No, my nephew isn't in sight, as I can see, Sheriff," he replied, with a frown, and a look toward Allan, as though to say that it was his opinion the boy might produce the one they sought, if proper force were applied.
"Having a hunt up here in the mountains, are you, boys?" asked the sheriff, as he followed the example of the lawyer, and dropped down near the fire, crossing his legs tailor-fashion, as though he meant to make himself quite at home.
"Yes, we want to get a big-horn or so to take back with us," replied Allan.
"Just the four of you?" continued the other, arching his heavy brows as if with surprise.
"Oh! no, there are a lot of other fellows," replied the scout who took Thad's place as leader when the other happened to be absent.
"Oh! that's it, eh? Rest off on a little side hunt right now, I reckon. P'raps you've got a guide along with you, too?" the officer continued, bending his neck, so that he could see inside the nearest tent, the flap of which happened to be on the side toward him, and thrown back to allow of ventilation.
"Oh! yes, we've got a guide now, though for a long time we had to go it alone, and managed to get on pretty well," Allan continued, wondering why it was he could catch a peculiar quizzical gleam in the snapping eyes of the other, once in a while, when the sheriff looked straight at him.
"Who is he; perhaps I might happen to know him?" asked the other, accepting a tin cup filled with coffee, from Bumpus.
"I'm sure you do, sir," Allan hastened to remark; and then, remembering that he was not supposed to know of the visit the sheriff and his employer had paid to the camp of the big-horn hunters on the previous night, he hastened to add: "everybody knows honestToby Smathers, the forest ranger, I should think."
"Well, I should say, yes, I did," replied theother, commencing to calmly devour the piece of venison that had been placed on his platter, as though his appetite was sharp indeed this bracing morning. "And so you boys have come away out here just to see what we've got in these Rockies, eh?"
"Just what we have, sir," replied Giraffe, thinking that he would like to have the sheriff notice him a little.
"And I declare, you seem to be fixed pretty comfortable like," the other went on. "Just look at the tents they brought with them, Mr. Rawson. I've always said that on the whole they were better than the old-fashioned tents. You can see how the heat of the fire on a cold night is sent back into the tent; and there's aplenty of head-room here. Yes, both of 'em as cozy as you please."
He had seemed so very much interested in the subject that he even laid down his tin cup and platter, and gaining his feet, passed over, to peer into each tent, as if bent on ascertaining what the interior looked like.
Allan, of course, knew just what this meant. The sheriff was looking for Aleck, as if he half-expected to find the hunted boy concealed under a pile of blankets. And yet it puzzled Allan to note that, in spite of the keen disappointment which would naturally follow a failure to locate the boy, Sheriff Bob was even chuckling as he once more sathim down in the circle, and resumed operations on his breakfast.
Something seemed to be amusing him, Allan wished he could tell what. He felt it must have some connection with the search for Aleck Rawson; though for the life of him he could not decide what was in the sheriff's mind.
The talk soon became general, though Artemus took no part in it. He sent a beseeching glance every now and then in the direction of the officer, as if begging him to do something; but whatever it might be, evidently Sheriff Bob was in no hurry, and meant to finish that good breakfast first, anyway.
Presently, as he emptied his platter the second time, and swallowed his third cup of scalding Java the officer remarked:
"I know something about the Boy Scouts myself, it happens. Got a youngster down below that belongs to a troop. Great thing. Teaches lads lots of the right kind of outdoor business. Makes 'em healthy, and able to depend on themselves a heap. My kid, he's dead stuck on this signal business with flags and such. Glad to see it, too. Takes me back to old times, as sure as you live."
He stopped there, and seemed to reflect. It was as though memories might be arising that were pleasant to look back upon. Meanwhile Allan was conscious of something like a little thrill passingthrough him. He seemed to feel that this was no accidental mention on the part of the man with the twinkle in his eye; but in fact, it might have something deep back of it.
"Yes," Sheriff Bob went on, presently, turning straight toward Allan now. "I used to belong in the army years ago—spent six years of my life in the Signal Corps, and was accounted a pretty good operator in wigwag, telegraph, telephone building, and heliograph work while I served. And honest now, I must say I never enjoyed a finer half hour than I spent last night, sitting on a rock up yonder, and watching that lively little confab you held with your chum, who, I think was the boy calling himself Step Hen. He did the job up pretty well, considering; and as for your Thad, he's chain lightning on the send. Yes, siree bob, that was a picnic to an old Signal Corps man like me, as you can easily understand, my boy!"
The four scouts sat there as if frozen stiff. Consternation was written all over their faces; and no wonder the humorous sheriff, as he saw what a bomb he had exploded, chuckled, and then laughed aloud.
That good and hearty laugh on the part of the sheriff did more to reassure the scouts than anything else could have done. Giraffe, who had been holding his very breath in consternation, allowed the air to flow in and out of his lungs again; Bumpus regained his color, while his staring eyes concluded apparently not to pop out of his head this time; and as for Allan and Bob White, they lost some of the look of alarm that had spread over their faces.
"Yes, it was as good as a circus to just sit thar, and enjoy reading that little talk," the sheriff went on to say. "I could'most imagine myself back again in the army, out in the Philippines, teachin' some of the awkward squad their p's and q's. And the news was some interestin', too. So Aleck, he was to make himself scarce, was he? Seems like he did that same, too," with another chuckle, and a shrug of his shoulders toward the tents which he had so lately examined without profit.
Allan hardly knew what to say; but boldly taking up the cudgels he presently remarked:
"Well, Mr. Sheriff, what else could we do?Aleck was a scout, one of our organization; and if you've got a son who belongs to it, you must know that a scout is always supposed to be ready to hold out a helping hand to a fellow member. Aleck was in trouble. He had fallen into the hands of a party of prospectors, headed by Colonel Kracker, who were bent on forcing him to give up the secret they thought he carried, concerning the long-lost silver mine his father was said to have discovered years ago."
"H'm! say you so, boy?" the other observed, while the lawyer pricked up his ears, as if suddenly interested. "Kracker around here, is he? Well, that's some interesting news, you're telling me. You say the boy had fallen into their hands, and that you rescued him?"
"If you'd like to hear about it, I'll be only too glad to tell you," Allan went on to say, eagerly; for somehow he had already taken quite a fancy toward this sheriff with the humorous twinkle in his eye, and thought it only right to make a friend of him, if it could be done.
"All nonsense, Mr. Sheriff," spluttered old Artemus, who feared lest his case might be losing its grip, and that the officer would refuse to aid him even were the boy found. "He's trying to swing your sympathies around against my interests. Remember that you carry a warrant, and are sworn to serve it."
"I always does my duty, Mr. Rawson, don't you fear," replied the sheriff, with a frown; "but just now it's a part of my business to hear all I can concerning the way your nephew came to join in with these Boy Scouts. Now, just go on telling me what you started to say, my boy."
At that Allan picked up fresh courage. The sheriff was inclined to favor them, he realized, even at the expense of straining his "duty."
"Why, one of our number, Giraffe here," he said, "happened to be practicing the wigwag code outside the camp, in the darkness, using a brand he'd picked from the fire; when to his astonishment he saw answering signals from what seemed to be the sky. Well, when we made out the one word 'help!' you see our interest was at once raised to fever pitch."
"I should say it would be," remarked Sheriff Bob, showing the deepest attention, as though the prospect for developments in the story began to excite him.
"Our scoutmaster took matters in hand," Allan went on. "You just said he was clever at sending and receiving messages. Well, he's a cracker-jack, that's what he is. And it so happened that Aleck, he not only belonged to the scouts, and had learned everything about signaling; but he served as a telegraph operator for a short time on a side road, when the regular man was taken sick; so he could evenbeat our Thad at talking with his hands; and that's going some, I tell you."
"But what was Aleck doing up there; and where was he at the time?" asked the deeply interested sheriff.
"Kracker and his two men had caught Aleck; and unable to make him tell what they wanted, what do you think the cowards did? Lowered the boy down to a shelf on the face of the cliff, and left him there, saying he would starve unless he weakened, and gave up his secret; which Aleck vows belongs to his mother alone, and nothing on earth would make him betray."
"And they left him there, did they?" growled Sheriff Bob, frowning in a way to indicate his opinion of the said Kracker.
"Just what they did. He saw us come into the valley, but thought we might only be some more of the same kind of wolves, wanting to torture a poor boy. But when he saw Giraffe, here, making letters with his fire-stick, something told Aleck we must be Boy Scouts. So, finding some wood on the ledge, he managed to make a little fire in a crack that ran into the rock; and with a brand from this he started to call, repeating that one word over and over again—'help'!"
"This here is some interesting to me, son," remarked the big sheriff, as Allan paused to get his breath, for he was talking so fast and so eagerlythat he had almost exhausted himself. "And so, after you learned where he was, and how he came to be thar, I reckon now you boys started to climb up and rescue the other—how?"
"That's what we did, sir," broke in Giraffe, eagerly. "Four of us, counting the guide, managed to climb up the mountain, and with a rope we carried, hooked Aleck up off that ledge the prettiest you ever saw, that's what we did," with a defiant look toward old Artemus, who was sniffing through all this talk, just as though he refused to believe a word of it.
"And that's the way we came to have him in our camp, sir," Allan went on to say. "We heard his story, and believed it, too. He's got a mother, and a lot of little sisters, who look to him to carry out the work his father started. But every one who ever hears a word about that hidden mine Jerry Rawson once found, seems to be just crazy to take it away from his widow. She has hardly a single friend to trust. Even her relatives plot to beat her out of this valuable mining property, and try all sorts of things, in hopes of getting hold of the secret. And now you know just where we stand, Mr. Sheriff. As scouts we must stay friends of Aleck. Hewashere, just as you know; but he's gone away, and none of us know where to. Thad took him off during the night, and all he said was we might expect to see him again when he showedup. So you can't pump any information out of us, you see."
"And even if we knew anything, we wouldn't tell," assertedGiraffe, belligerently, feeling that the honor of a scout was in question right then.
The sheriff looked from one to another of those four boyish faces.
"By George! now, I reckon it wouldn't be any use in me tryin' to scare you by threatening to jail you for aiding in the escape of a desperate criminal, would it?" he remarked, pretending to look very serious, but with that twinkle again in evidence, as Allan saw.
"You just couldn't;" declared Giraffe, while Bumpus began to move a little uneasily in his seat; "in the first place, we don't know anything more'n we've told you; secondly, we haven't assisted anybody to escape, because we're right here, johnny-on-the-spot, and it's our scoutmaster who's gone; and then, last of all, there ain't any desperate criminal at all; only a poor, persecuted boy, with the grit that you just want your own chap to show, Mr. Sheriff,—ready to fight everybody, for the sake of his mother and sisters."
Sheriff Bob wagged his head slowly, as though mentally digesting what the other had just said.
"H'm! that remains to be seen, boy," he remarked; although Giraffe believed he did not feel one-half as ferocious as he chose to look just then."Duty is duty, no matter how unpleasant it may seem, sometimes."
"I'm glad to hear you take that sensible view of the matter, Mr. Sheriff," said the old Denver lawyer, in his oily tones. "You mustn't believe one-tenth of what boys say. They would as soon prevaricate as eat their breakfast; that is, some of the breed would, though doubtless your son is an exception to the rule. These scouts, as they choose to call themselves, have fixed up a story to suit themselves, and they hope to enlist your sympathy; but I know that a stern sense of duty will compel you to close your ears to anything they may say. I demand that you exercise every effort possible, looking to the immediate arrest of my rascally nephew, Alexander Rawson, whom I accuse of stealing valuable papers from my pocketbook while I was a guest under his mother's roof, and then disappearing."
"Oh! very well, sir, don't excite yourself about my movements," remarked Sheriff Bob, assuming a pompous air, though Allan thought he winked slily in his direction while speaking. "You will find no cause to complain to my superiors concerning any shortcomings on my part. And up to now, you must admit I have been unflagging in my endeavor to locate the fugitive from justice. Make your mind easy, Mr. Rawson, I see my duty clear in the premises, and can be depended on to do it."
Watching his chance a little later Allan followed the sheriff, when the latter went to get a drink of water near by. Artemus looked as though he wanted to keep them from having any communications out of his range of hearing; but he sank back in his seat again, plainly afraid of invoking the anger of the big sheriff, who, he already felt, did not feel any too warmly toward him and his cause.
And as they sat down by the little stream to dip up some of the clear water with the tin cup Sheriff Bob had made sure to fetch along, Allan made it a point to tell the other all that Aleck had said about the motives of his father's lawyer brother, and how for a long time he had bothered the widow, trying to find out if she knew anything about the hidden mine; which until lately of course she had not.
Allan knew how to talk. Moreover, he had an interested listener in the officer, and that counted for a great deal. Besides, he felt deeply for the persecuted boy, and his heart was filled with a desire to assist him secure the legacy left by his father, than whom no living soul had ever gazed upon the hidden mine.