Chapter Five.

Chapter Five.“Surrounded by Indians.”A good breakfast and a few hours’ rest seemed to put a different aspect upon the face of affairs; the day was glorious, and though the region they were in was arid and wanting in water, there was plenty to interest any one travelling on an expedition of research. A good look-out was kept for Indians, but the party seemed to have gone right away, and to give them ample time to get to a greater distance, Dr Lascelles determined, if he could find a spring anywhere at hand, to stay where they were for a couple of days.“You see, Bart,” he said, as they hunted about amongst the craggiest part of the amphitheatre where fortune or misfortune had led them, “it does not much matter where we go, so long as it is into a region where Europeans have not penetrated before. Many of these hills are teeming with mineral treasures, and we must come upon some of Nature’s wasting store if we persevere.”“Then we might find metals here, sir?” said Bart eagerly.“As likely here as anywhere else. These rocks are partly quartz, and at any time we may come upon some of the stone veined with gold, or stumble upon a place where silver lies in blocks.”“I hope,” laughed Bart, “when we do, I may stumble right over one of the blocks and so be sure of examining it. I think I should know silver if I found it.”“I am not so sure,” said the Doctor. “You’ve led a life of a kind that has not made you very likely to understand minerals, but I daresay we shall both know a little more about them before we have done—that is,” he added with a sigh, “if the Indians will leave us alone.”“We must give them the slip, sir,” said Bart, laughing.“Perhaps we may, my boy; but we have another difficulty to contend with.”“What’s that, sir; the distance?”“No, Bart; I’m uneasy about the men. I’m afraid they will strike sooner or later, and insist upon going back.”“I’m not, sir,” replied Bart. “I will answer for Joses, and he has only to say he means to go forward, and the others then will keep by his side. Mind that snake, sir.”The Doctor raised his rifle to fire, but refrained, lest the report should be heard, and drawing back, the rattlesnake did the same; then they continued their journey, the Doctor examining the rocks attentively as he went on, but seeing nothing worthy of notice.“We must be well on our guard against these reptiles, Bart; that is the first I have seen, and they may prove numerous.”“They are numerous,” said Bart; and he told of the number he had seen upon the slope above them.“That settles me upon going forward this evening,” said the Doctor, “for water seems to be very scarce. We must try and strike the river higher up, and follow its course. We shall then have plenty of water always within reach, and find wood and trees and hiding-places.”“But I thought you wanted to get into a mountainous part, sir, where precious minerals would be found,” said Bart.“Exactly, my dear boy, and that is just the place we shall reach if we persevere, for it is up in these rocky fastnesses, where the rivers have their sources, and sometimes their beds are sprinkled with the specks and also with pieces of gold that have been washed out of the sides of the mighty hills.”They went on thoughtfully for a time, the Doctor giving a chip here and a chip there as he passed masses of rock, but nothing rewarded him, and their walk was so uneventful that they saw nothing more than another rattlesnake, the valley being so solitary and deserted that, with the exception of a large hawk, they did not even see a bird.They, however, found a tiny spring of water which trickled down among the rocks, and finally formed a little pool, ample for supplying their horses with water, and this discovery made the Doctor propose a return.“I don’t like leaving Maude for long,” he said.“Joses will watch over her, sir, as safely as you would yourself. You saved his life once he told me.”“He told you that!” exclaimed the Doctor.“Yes, sir, when the rattlesnake bit him, and I don’t think he would ever be ungrateful, though I think he feels hurt that you do not place more trust in him.”“Well, let him prove himself well worthy of my trust,” said the Doctor, bluntly. “I have not found him so ready as he should be in helping me with my plans.”Here the Doctor became very silent and reserved, and though Bart asked him several questions, and tried to get him into conversation, he hardly spoke, but seemed moody and thoughtful till they were close upon the little camp.This was hidden from them till they were almost there, for the upper end of the Horse-shoe Valley was extremely rugged, and their way lay in and out among heavy blocks of stone that seemed as if they had been hurled down from the mountain-side.When they were just about to turn into the narrow opening where the waggon lay and the horses were tethered, the Doctor stooped down to examine some fragments that lay loose about their feet, and the consequence was that Bart went on alone. He was just about to give a peculiar whistle, one used commonly by himself and the men when they wished to signal their whereabouts, when he stopped short, half hidden by the rocks, raised his rifle to his shoulder, and stood ready to fire, while his face, tanned as it was by the sun, turned of a sickly hue.For a moment he was about to fire. Then he felt that he must rush forward and save Maude. The next moment calmer reflection told him that such help and strength as he could command would be needed, and, slipping back out of sight, he ran to where he had left the Doctor.He found him sitting down examining by means of a little magnifying-glass one of the fragments of rock that he had chipped off, while his rifle lay across his knee.He seemed so calm and content that in those moments of emergency Bart almost shrank from speaking, knowing, as he did, how terrible would be the effect of his words.Just then the Doctor looked up, saw his strange gaze, and dropping the fragments, he leaped to his feet.“What is it?” he cried; “what is wrong?” and as he spoke the lock of his double rifle gave forth two ominous clicks twice over.“They have come round while we have been away,” whispered Bart hoarsely.“They? Who? Our men?”“No,” panted Bart; “the camp is surrounded by Indians.”

A good breakfast and a few hours’ rest seemed to put a different aspect upon the face of affairs; the day was glorious, and though the region they were in was arid and wanting in water, there was plenty to interest any one travelling on an expedition of research. A good look-out was kept for Indians, but the party seemed to have gone right away, and to give them ample time to get to a greater distance, Dr Lascelles determined, if he could find a spring anywhere at hand, to stay where they were for a couple of days.

“You see, Bart,” he said, as they hunted about amongst the craggiest part of the amphitheatre where fortune or misfortune had led them, “it does not much matter where we go, so long as it is into a region where Europeans have not penetrated before. Many of these hills are teeming with mineral treasures, and we must come upon some of Nature’s wasting store if we persevere.”

“Then we might find metals here, sir?” said Bart eagerly.

“As likely here as anywhere else. These rocks are partly quartz, and at any time we may come upon some of the stone veined with gold, or stumble upon a place where silver lies in blocks.”

“I hope,” laughed Bart, “when we do, I may stumble right over one of the blocks and so be sure of examining it. I think I should know silver if I found it.”

“I am not so sure,” said the Doctor. “You’ve led a life of a kind that has not made you very likely to understand minerals, but I daresay we shall both know a little more about them before we have done—that is,” he added with a sigh, “if the Indians will leave us alone.”

“We must give them the slip, sir,” said Bart, laughing.

“Perhaps we may, my boy; but we have another difficulty to contend with.”

“What’s that, sir; the distance?”

“No, Bart; I’m uneasy about the men. I’m afraid they will strike sooner or later, and insist upon going back.”

“I’m not, sir,” replied Bart. “I will answer for Joses, and he has only to say he means to go forward, and the others then will keep by his side. Mind that snake, sir.”

The Doctor raised his rifle to fire, but refrained, lest the report should be heard, and drawing back, the rattlesnake did the same; then they continued their journey, the Doctor examining the rocks attentively as he went on, but seeing nothing worthy of notice.

“We must be well on our guard against these reptiles, Bart; that is the first I have seen, and they may prove numerous.”

“They are numerous,” said Bart; and he told of the number he had seen upon the slope above them.

“That settles me upon going forward this evening,” said the Doctor, “for water seems to be very scarce. We must try and strike the river higher up, and follow its course. We shall then have plenty of water always within reach, and find wood and trees and hiding-places.”

“But I thought you wanted to get into a mountainous part, sir, where precious minerals would be found,” said Bart.

“Exactly, my dear boy, and that is just the place we shall reach if we persevere, for it is up in these rocky fastnesses, where the rivers have their sources, and sometimes their beds are sprinkled with the specks and also with pieces of gold that have been washed out of the sides of the mighty hills.”

They went on thoughtfully for a time, the Doctor giving a chip here and a chip there as he passed masses of rock, but nothing rewarded him, and their walk was so uneventful that they saw nothing more than another rattlesnake, the valley being so solitary and deserted that, with the exception of a large hawk, they did not even see a bird.

They, however, found a tiny spring of water which trickled down among the rocks, and finally formed a little pool, ample for supplying their horses with water, and this discovery made the Doctor propose a return.

“I don’t like leaving Maude for long,” he said.

“Joses will watch over her, sir, as safely as you would yourself. You saved his life once he told me.”

“He told you that!” exclaimed the Doctor.

“Yes, sir, when the rattlesnake bit him, and I don’t think he would ever be ungrateful, though I think he feels hurt that you do not place more trust in him.”

“Well, let him prove himself well worthy of my trust,” said the Doctor, bluntly. “I have not found him so ready as he should be in helping me with my plans.”

Here the Doctor became very silent and reserved, and though Bart asked him several questions, and tried to get him into conversation, he hardly spoke, but seemed moody and thoughtful till they were close upon the little camp.

This was hidden from them till they were almost there, for the upper end of the Horse-shoe Valley was extremely rugged, and their way lay in and out among heavy blocks of stone that seemed as if they had been hurled down from the mountain-side.

When they were just about to turn into the narrow opening where the waggon lay and the horses were tethered, the Doctor stooped down to examine some fragments that lay loose about their feet, and the consequence was that Bart went on alone. He was just about to give a peculiar whistle, one used commonly by himself and the men when they wished to signal their whereabouts, when he stopped short, half hidden by the rocks, raised his rifle to his shoulder, and stood ready to fire, while his face, tanned as it was by the sun, turned of a sickly hue.

For a moment he was about to fire. Then he felt that he must rush forward and save Maude. The next moment calmer reflection told him that such help and strength as he could command would be needed, and, slipping back out of sight, he ran to where he had left the Doctor.

He found him sitting down examining by means of a little magnifying-glass one of the fragments of rock that he had chipped off, while his rifle lay across his knee.

He seemed so calm and content that in those moments of emergency Bart almost shrank from speaking, knowing, as he did, how terrible would be the effect of his words.

Just then the Doctor looked up, saw his strange gaze, and dropping the fragments, he leaped to his feet.

“What is it?” he cried; “what is wrong?” and as he spoke the lock of his double rifle gave forth two ominous clicks twice over.

“They have come round while we have been away,” whispered Bart hoarsely.

“They? Who? Our men?”

“No,” panted Bart; “the camp is surrounded by Indians.”

Chapter Six.A Surgical Operation.Dr Lascelles’ first movement was to run forward to the help of his child, Bart being close behind.Then with the knowledge that where there is terrible odds against which to fight, guile and skill are necessary, he paused for a moment, with the intention of trying to find cover from whence he could make deadly use of his rifle. But with the knowledge that Maude must be in the hands of the Indians, whose savage nature he too well knew, his fatherly instinct admitted of no pause for strategy, and dashing forward, he ran swiftly towards the waggon, with Bart close upon his heels.The full extent of their peril was at once apparent, no less than twelve mounted Indians being at the head of the little valley in a group, every man in full war-paint, and with his rifle across his knees as he sat upon his sturdy Indian pony.Facing them were Maude, Joses, Juan, and the other two men, who had apparently been taken by surprise, and who, rifle in hand, seemed to be parleying with the enemy.The sight of the reinforcement in the shape of Bart, and Dr Lascelles made the Indians utter a loud “Ugh!” and for a moment they seemed disposed to assume the offensive, but to Bart’s surprise they only urged their ponies forward a few yards, and then stopped.“Get behind the waggon, quick, my child,” panted the Doctor, as Bart rushed up to his old companion’s side.“They came down upon us all at once, master,” said Joses. “They didn’t come along the trail.”“Show a bold front,” exclaimed the Doctor; “we may beat them off.”To his surprise, however, the Indians did not seem to mean fighting, one of them, who appeared to be the chief, riding forward a few yards, and saying something in his own language.“What does he say?” said the Doctor, impatiently.“I can’t make him out,” replied Joses. “His is a strange tongue to me.”“He is hurt,” exclaimed Bart. “He is wounded in the arm. I think he is asking for something.”It certainly had that appearance, for the Indian was holding rifle and reins in his left hand, while the right arm hung helplessly by his side.It was like weakening his own little force to do such a thing, knowing as he did how treacherous the Indian could be, but this was no time for hesitating, and as it seemed to be as Bart had intimated, the Doctor risked this being a manoeuvre on the part of the Indian chief, and holding his rifle ready, he stepped boldly forward to where the dusky warrior sat calm and motionless upon his horse.Upon going close up there was no longer any room for doubt. The chief’s arm was roughly bandaged, and the coarse cloth seemed to be eating into the terribly swollen flesh.That was enough. All the Doctor’s old instincts came at once to the front, and he took the injured limb in his hand.He must have caused the Indian intense pain, but the fine bronzed-looking fellow, who had features of a keen aquiline type, did not move a muscle, while, as the Doctor laid his rifle up against a rock, the little mounted band uttered in chorus a sort of grunt of approval.“It is peace, Bart,” said the Doctor. “Maude, my child, get a bowl of clean water, towels, and some bandages. Bart, get out my surgical case.”As he spoke, he motioned to the chief to dismount, which he did, throwing himself lightly from his pony, not, as a European would, on the left side of the horse, but on the right, the well-trained animal standing motionless, and bending down its head to crop the nearest herbage.“Throw a blanket down upon that sage-brush, Joses,” continued the Doctor; and this being done, the latter pointed to it, making signs that the chief should sit down.He did not stir for a few moments, but gazed searchingly round at the group, till he saw Maude come forward with a tin bowl of clean water and the bandages, followed by Bart, who had in his hand a little surgical case. Then he took a few steps forward, and seated himself, laying his rifle down amongst the short shrubby growth, while Juan, Sam, and Harry on the one side, the mounted Indians upon the other, looked curiously on.Once there was a low murmur among the latter, as the Doctor drew a keen, long knife from its sheath at his belt; but the chief did not wince, and all were once more still.“He has been badly hurt in a fight,” said the Doctor, “and the rough surgery of his tribe or his medicine-man does not act.”“That’s it, master,” said Joses, who was standing close by with rifle ready in case of treachery. “His medicine-man couldn’t tackle that, and they think all white men are good doctors. It means peace, master.”He pointed behind the Doctor as he spoke, and it was plain enough that at all events for the present the Indians meant no harm, for two trotted back, one to turn up a narrow rift that the little exploring party had passed unnoticed in the night, the other to go right on towards the entrance of the rough Horse-shoe.“That means scouting, does it not?” said Bart.“I think so,” replied the Doctor. “Yes; these Indians are friendly, but we must be on our guard. Don’t show that we are suspicious though. Help me as I dress this arm. Maude, my child, you had better go into the waggon.”“I am not afraid, father,” she said, quietly.“Stay, then,” he said. “You can be of use, perhaps.”He spoke like this, for, in their rough frontier life, the girl had had more than one experience of surgery. Men had been wounded in fights with the Indians; others had suffered from falls and tramplings from horses, while on more than one occasion the Doctor had had to deal with terrible injuries, the results of gorings from fierce bulls. For it is a strange but well-known fact in those parts, that the domestic cattle that run wild from the various corrals or enclosures, and take to the plains, are ten times more dangerous than the fiercest bison or buffalo, as they are commonly called, that roam the wilds.Meanwhile the rest of the band leaped lightly down from their ponies, and paying not the slightest heed to the white party, proceeded to gather wood and brush to make themselves a fire, some unpacking buffalo meat, and one bringing forward a portion of a prong-horn antelope.The Doctor was now busily examining his patient’s arm, cutting away the rough bandages, and laying bare a terrible injury.He was not long in seeing its extent, and he knew that if some necessary steps were not taken at once, mortification of the limb would set in, and the result would be death.The Indian’s eyes glittered as he keenly watched the Doctor’s face. He evidently knew the worst, and it was this which had made him seek white help, though of course he was not aware how fortunate he had been in his haphazard choice. He must have been suffering intense pain, but not a nerve quivered, not a muscle moved, while, deeply interested, Joses came closer, rested his arms upon the top of his rifle, and looked down.“Why, he’s got an arrow run right up his arm all along by the bone, master,” exclaimed the frontier man; “and he has been trying to pull it out, and it’s broken in.”“Right, Joses,” said the Doctor, quietly; “and worse than that, the head of the arrow is fixed in the bone.”“Ah, I couldn’t tell that,” said Joses, coolly.“I wish I could speak his dialect,” continued the Doctor. “I shall have to operate severely if his arm is to be saved, and I don’t want him or his men to pay me my fee with a crack from a tomahawk.”“Don’t you be afraid of that, master. He won’t wince, nor say a word. You may do what you like with him. Injuns is a bad lot, but they’ve got wonderful pluck over pain.”“This fellow has, at all events,” said the Doctor. “Maude, my child, I think you had better go.”“If you wish it, father, I will,” she replied simply; “but I could help you, and I should not be in the least afraid.”“Good,” said the Doctor, laconically, as he lowered the injured arm after bathing it free from the macerated leaves and bark with which it had been bound up. Then with the Indian’s glittering eyes following every movement, he took from his leather case of surgical instruments, all still wonderfully bright and kept in a most perfect state, a curious-looking pair of forceps with rough handles, and a couple of short-bladed, very keen knives.“Hah!” said Joses, with a loud expiration of his breath, “them’s like the pinchers a doctor chap once used to pull out a big aching tooth of mine, and he nearly pulled my head off as well.”“No; they were different to these, Joses,” said the Doctor, quietly, as he took up a knife. “Feel faint, Bart?”The lad blushed now. He had been turning pale.“Well, I did feel a little sick, sir. It was the sight of that knife. It has all gone now.”“That’s right, my boy. Always try and master such feelings as these. Now I must try and make him understand what I want to do. Give me that piece of stick, Bart, it will do to imitate the arrow.”Bart handed the piece of wood, which the Doctor shortened, and then, suiting the action to his words, he spoke to the chief:“The arrow entered here,” he said, pointing to a wound a little above the Indian’s wrist, “and pierced right up through the muscles, to bury itself in the bone just here.”As he spoke, he pushed the stick up outside the arm along the course that the arrow had taken, and holding the end about where he considered the head of the arrow to be.For answer the Indian gave two sharp nods, and said something in his own tongue which no one understood.“Then,” continued the Doctor, “you, or somebody else, in trying to extract the arrow, have broken it off, and it is here in the arm, at least six inches and the head.”As he spoke, he now broke the stick in two, throwing away part, and holding the remainder up against the Indian’s wounded arm.Again the chief nodded, and this time he smiled.“Well, we understand one another so far,” said the Doctor, “and he sees that I know what’s the matter. Now then, am I to try and cure it? What would you like me to do?”He pointed to the arm as he spoke, and then to himself, and the Indian took the Doctor’s hand, directed it to the knife, and then, pointing to his arm, drew a line from the mouth of the wound right up to his elbow, making signs that the Doctor should make one great gash, and take the arrow out.“All right, my friend, but that is not quite the right way,” said the Doctor. “You trust me then to do my best for you?”He took up one of the short-bladed knives as he spoke, and pointed to the arm.The Indian smiled and nodded, his face the next moment becoming stern and fixed as if he were in terrible pain, and needed all his fortitude to bear it.“Going to cut it out, master?” said Joses, roughly.“Yes.”“Let’s give the poor beggar a comforter then,” continued Joses. “If he scalps us afterwards along with his copper crew, why, he does, but let’s show him white men are gentlemen.”“What are you going to do?” said the Doctor, wonderingly.“Show you directly,” growled Joses, who leisurely filled a short, home-made wooden pipe with tobacco, lit it at the Indian’s fire, which was now crackling merrily, and returned to offer it to the chief, who took it with a short nod and a grunt, and began to smoke rapidly.“That’ll take a bit o’ the edge off it,” growled Joses. “Shall I hold his arm?”“No; Bart, will do that,” said the Doctor, rolling up his sleeves and placing water, bandages, and forceps ready. “Humph! he cannot bend his arm. Hold it like that, Bart—firmly, my lad, and don’t flinch. I won’t cut you.”“I’ll be quite firm, sir,” said Bart, quietly; and the Doctor raised his knife.As he did so, he glanced at where nine Indians were seated round the fire, expecting to see that they would be interested in what was taking place; but, on the contrary, they were to a man fully occupied in roasting their dried meat and the portions of the antelope that they had cut up. The operation on the chief did not interest them in the least, or if it did, they were too stoical to show it.The Doctor then glanced at his savage patient, and laying one hand upon the dreadfully swollen limb, he received a nod of encouragement, for there was no sign of quailing in the chief’s eyes; but as the Doctor approached the point of the knife to a spot terribly discoloured, just below the elbow, the Indian made a sound full of remonstrance, and pointing to the wound above the wrist, signed to his attendant that he should slit the arm right up.“No, no,” said the Doctor, smiling. “I’m not going to make a terrible wound like that. Leave it to me.”He patted the chief on the shoulder as he spoke, and once more the Indian subsided into a state of stolidity, as if there were nothing the matter and he was not in the slightest pain.Here I pause for a few moments as I say— Shall I describe what the Doctor did to save the Indian’s life, or shall I hold my hand?I think I will go on, for there should be nothing objectionable in a few words describing the work of a man connected with one of the noblest professions under the sun.There was no hesitation. With one quick, firm cut, the Doctor divided the flesh, piercing deep down, and as he cut his knife gave a sharp grate.“Right on the arrowhead, Bart,” he said quietly; and, withdrawing his knife, he thrust a pair of sharp forceps into the wound, and seemed as if he were going to drag out the arrow, but it was only to divide the shaft. This he seized with the other forceps, and drew out of the bleeding opening—a piece nearly five inches long, which came away easily enough.Then, without a moment’s hesitation, he sponged the cut for a while, and directly after, guiding them with the index finger of his left hand, he thrust the forceps once more into the wound.There was a slight grating noise once again, a noise that Bart, as he manfully held the arm, seemed to feel go right through every nerve with a peculiar thrill. Then it was evident that the Doctor had fast hold of the arrowhead and he drew hard to take it out.“I thought so,” he said, “it is driven firmly into the bone.”As he spoke, he worked his forceps slightly to and fro, to loosen the arrowhead, and then, bearing firmly upon it, drew it out—an ugly, keen piece of nastily barbed iron, with a scrap of the shaft and some deer sinew attached.The Doctor examined it attentively to see that everything had come away, and uttered a sigh of satisfaction, while the only sign the Indian gave was to draw a long, deep breath.“There, Mr Tomahawk,” said the Doctor, smiling, as he held the arm over the bowl, and bathed the injury tenderly with fresh relays of water, till it nearly ceased bleeding; “that’s better than making a cut all along your arm, and I’ll be bound to say it feels easier already.”The Indian did not move or speak, but sat there smoking patiently till the deep cut was sewn up, padded with lint, and bound, and the wound above the wrist, where the arrow had entered, was also dressed and bound up carefully.“There: now your arm will heal,” said the Doctor, as he contrived a sling, and placed the injured limb at rest. “A man with such a fine healthy physique will not suffer much, I’ll be bound. Hah, it’s quite a treat to do some of the old work again.”The chief waited patiently until the Doctor had finished. Then rising, he stood for a few moments with knitted brows, perfectly motionless; and the frontier man, seeing what was the matter, seemed to be about to proffer his arm, but the Indian paid no heed to him, merely gazing straight before him till the feeling of faintness had passed away, when he stooped and picked up the piece of arrow shaft and the head, walked with them to where his followers were sitting, and held them out for them to see. Then they were passed round with a series of grunts, duly examined, and finally found a resting-place in a little beaver-skin bag at the chiefs girdle, along with his paints and one or two pieces of so-called “medicine” or charms.Meanwhile the Doctor was busy putting away his instruments, feeling greatly relieved that the encounter with the Indians had been of so friendly a nature.At the end of a few minutes the chief came back with the large buffalo robe that had been strapped to the back of his pony, spread it before the Doctor, placed on it his rifle, tomahawk, knife, and pouch, and signed to him that they were his as a present.“He means that it is all he has to give you, sir,” said Bart, who seemed to understand the chief’s ways quicker than his guardian, and who eagerly set himself to interpret.“Yes, that seems to be his meaning,” replied the Doctor. “Well, let’s see if we can’t make him our friend.”Saying which the Doctor stooped down, picked up the knife and hatchet and placed them in the chiefs belt, his rifle in the hollow of his arm, and finally his buffalo robe over his shoulders, ending by giving him his hand smilingly, and saying the one wordfriend,friend, two or three times over.The chief made no reply, but gravely stalked back to his followers, as if affronted at the refusal of his gift, and the day passed with him lying down quietly smoking in the sage-brush, while the occupants of the Doctor’s little camp went uneasily about their various tasks, ending by dividing the night into watches, lest their savage neighbours should take it into their heads to depart suddenly with the white man’s horses—a favourite practice with Indians, and one that in this case would have been destructive of the expedition.

Dr Lascelles’ first movement was to run forward to the help of his child, Bart being close behind.

Then with the knowledge that where there is terrible odds against which to fight, guile and skill are necessary, he paused for a moment, with the intention of trying to find cover from whence he could make deadly use of his rifle. But with the knowledge that Maude must be in the hands of the Indians, whose savage nature he too well knew, his fatherly instinct admitted of no pause for strategy, and dashing forward, he ran swiftly towards the waggon, with Bart close upon his heels.

The full extent of their peril was at once apparent, no less than twelve mounted Indians being at the head of the little valley in a group, every man in full war-paint, and with his rifle across his knees as he sat upon his sturdy Indian pony.

Facing them were Maude, Joses, Juan, and the other two men, who had apparently been taken by surprise, and who, rifle in hand, seemed to be parleying with the enemy.

The sight of the reinforcement in the shape of Bart, and Dr Lascelles made the Indians utter a loud “Ugh!” and for a moment they seemed disposed to assume the offensive, but to Bart’s surprise they only urged their ponies forward a few yards, and then stopped.

“Get behind the waggon, quick, my child,” panted the Doctor, as Bart rushed up to his old companion’s side.

“They came down upon us all at once, master,” said Joses. “They didn’t come along the trail.”

“Show a bold front,” exclaimed the Doctor; “we may beat them off.”

To his surprise, however, the Indians did not seem to mean fighting, one of them, who appeared to be the chief, riding forward a few yards, and saying something in his own language.

“What does he say?” said the Doctor, impatiently.

“I can’t make him out,” replied Joses. “His is a strange tongue to me.”

“He is hurt,” exclaimed Bart. “He is wounded in the arm. I think he is asking for something.”

It certainly had that appearance, for the Indian was holding rifle and reins in his left hand, while the right arm hung helplessly by his side.

It was like weakening his own little force to do such a thing, knowing as he did how treacherous the Indian could be, but this was no time for hesitating, and as it seemed to be as Bart had intimated, the Doctor risked this being a manoeuvre on the part of the Indian chief, and holding his rifle ready, he stepped boldly forward to where the dusky warrior sat calm and motionless upon his horse.

Upon going close up there was no longer any room for doubt. The chief’s arm was roughly bandaged, and the coarse cloth seemed to be eating into the terribly swollen flesh.

That was enough. All the Doctor’s old instincts came at once to the front, and he took the injured limb in his hand.

He must have caused the Indian intense pain, but the fine bronzed-looking fellow, who had features of a keen aquiline type, did not move a muscle, while, as the Doctor laid his rifle up against a rock, the little mounted band uttered in chorus a sort of grunt of approval.

“It is peace, Bart,” said the Doctor. “Maude, my child, get a bowl of clean water, towels, and some bandages. Bart, get out my surgical case.”

As he spoke, he motioned to the chief to dismount, which he did, throwing himself lightly from his pony, not, as a European would, on the left side of the horse, but on the right, the well-trained animal standing motionless, and bending down its head to crop the nearest herbage.

“Throw a blanket down upon that sage-brush, Joses,” continued the Doctor; and this being done, the latter pointed to it, making signs that the chief should sit down.

He did not stir for a few moments, but gazed searchingly round at the group, till he saw Maude come forward with a tin bowl of clean water and the bandages, followed by Bart, who had in his hand a little surgical case. Then he took a few steps forward, and seated himself, laying his rifle down amongst the short shrubby growth, while Juan, Sam, and Harry on the one side, the mounted Indians upon the other, looked curiously on.

Once there was a low murmur among the latter, as the Doctor drew a keen, long knife from its sheath at his belt; but the chief did not wince, and all were once more still.

“He has been badly hurt in a fight,” said the Doctor, “and the rough surgery of his tribe or his medicine-man does not act.”

“That’s it, master,” said Joses, who was standing close by with rifle ready in case of treachery. “His medicine-man couldn’t tackle that, and they think all white men are good doctors. It means peace, master.”

He pointed behind the Doctor as he spoke, and it was plain enough that at all events for the present the Indians meant no harm, for two trotted back, one to turn up a narrow rift that the little exploring party had passed unnoticed in the night, the other to go right on towards the entrance of the rough Horse-shoe.

“That means scouting, does it not?” said Bart.

“I think so,” replied the Doctor. “Yes; these Indians are friendly, but we must be on our guard. Don’t show that we are suspicious though. Help me as I dress this arm. Maude, my child, you had better go into the waggon.”

“I am not afraid, father,” she said, quietly.

“Stay, then,” he said. “You can be of use, perhaps.”

He spoke like this, for, in their rough frontier life, the girl had had more than one experience of surgery. Men had been wounded in fights with the Indians; others had suffered from falls and tramplings from horses, while on more than one occasion the Doctor had had to deal with terrible injuries, the results of gorings from fierce bulls. For it is a strange but well-known fact in those parts, that the domestic cattle that run wild from the various corrals or enclosures, and take to the plains, are ten times more dangerous than the fiercest bison or buffalo, as they are commonly called, that roam the wilds.

Meanwhile the rest of the band leaped lightly down from their ponies, and paying not the slightest heed to the white party, proceeded to gather wood and brush to make themselves a fire, some unpacking buffalo meat, and one bringing forward a portion of a prong-horn antelope.

The Doctor was now busily examining his patient’s arm, cutting away the rough bandages, and laying bare a terrible injury.

He was not long in seeing its extent, and he knew that if some necessary steps were not taken at once, mortification of the limb would set in, and the result would be death.

The Indian’s eyes glittered as he keenly watched the Doctor’s face. He evidently knew the worst, and it was this which had made him seek white help, though of course he was not aware how fortunate he had been in his haphazard choice. He must have been suffering intense pain, but not a nerve quivered, not a muscle moved, while, deeply interested, Joses came closer, rested his arms upon the top of his rifle, and looked down.

“Why, he’s got an arrow run right up his arm all along by the bone, master,” exclaimed the frontier man; “and he has been trying to pull it out, and it’s broken in.”

“Right, Joses,” said the Doctor, quietly; “and worse than that, the head of the arrow is fixed in the bone.”

“Ah, I couldn’t tell that,” said Joses, coolly.

“I wish I could speak his dialect,” continued the Doctor. “I shall have to operate severely if his arm is to be saved, and I don’t want him or his men to pay me my fee with a crack from a tomahawk.”

“Don’t you be afraid of that, master. He won’t wince, nor say a word. You may do what you like with him. Injuns is a bad lot, but they’ve got wonderful pluck over pain.”

“This fellow has, at all events,” said the Doctor. “Maude, my child, I think you had better go.”

“If you wish it, father, I will,” she replied simply; “but I could help you, and I should not be in the least afraid.”

“Good,” said the Doctor, laconically, as he lowered the injured arm after bathing it free from the macerated leaves and bark with which it had been bound up. Then with the Indian’s glittering eyes following every movement, he took from his leather case of surgical instruments, all still wonderfully bright and kept in a most perfect state, a curious-looking pair of forceps with rough handles, and a couple of short-bladed, very keen knives.

“Hah!” said Joses, with a loud expiration of his breath, “them’s like the pinchers a doctor chap once used to pull out a big aching tooth of mine, and he nearly pulled my head off as well.”

“No; they were different to these, Joses,” said the Doctor, quietly, as he took up a knife. “Feel faint, Bart?”

The lad blushed now. He had been turning pale.

“Well, I did feel a little sick, sir. It was the sight of that knife. It has all gone now.”

“That’s right, my boy. Always try and master such feelings as these. Now I must try and make him understand what I want to do. Give me that piece of stick, Bart, it will do to imitate the arrow.”

Bart handed the piece of wood, which the Doctor shortened, and then, suiting the action to his words, he spoke to the chief:

“The arrow entered here,” he said, pointing to a wound a little above the Indian’s wrist, “and pierced right up through the muscles, to bury itself in the bone just here.”

As he spoke, he pushed the stick up outside the arm along the course that the arrow had taken, and holding the end about where he considered the head of the arrow to be.

For answer the Indian gave two sharp nods, and said something in his own tongue which no one understood.

“Then,” continued the Doctor, “you, or somebody else, in trying to extract the arrow, have broken it off, and it is here in the arm, at least six inches and the head.”

As he spoke, he now broke the stick in two, throwing away part, and holding the remainder up against the Indian’s wounded arm.

Again the chief nodded, and this time he smiled.

“Well, we understand one another so far,” said the Doctor, “and he sees that I know what’s the matter. Now then, am I to try and cure it? What would you like me to do?”

He pointed to the arm as he spoke, and then to himself, and the Indian took the Doctor’s hand, directed it to the knife, and then, pointing to his arm, drew a line from the mouth of the wound right up to his elbow, making signs that the Doctor should make one great gash, and take the arrow out.

“All right, my friend, but that is not quite the right way,” said the Doctor. “You trust me then to do my best for you?”

He took up one of the short-bladed knives as he spoke, and pointed to the arm.

The Indian smiled and nodded, his face the next moment becoming stern and fixed as if he were in terrible pain, and needed all his fortitude to bear it.

“Going to cut it out, master?” said Joses, roughly.

“Yes.”

“Let’s give the poor beggar a comforter then,” continued Joses. “If he scalps us afterwards along with his copper crew, why, he does, but let’s show him white men are gentlemen.”

“What are you going to do?” said the Doctor, wonderingly.

“Show you directly,” growled Joses, who leisurely filled a short, home-made wooden pipe with tobacco, lit it at the Indian’s fire, which was now crackling merrily, and returned to offer it to the chief, who took it with a short nod and a grunt, and began to smoke rapidly.

“That’ll take a bit o’ the edge off it,” growled Joses. “Shall I hold his arm?”

“No; Bart, will do that,” said the Doctor, rolling up his sleeves and placing water, bandages, and forceps ready. “Humph! he cannot bend his arm. Hold it like that, Bart—firmly, my lad, and don’t flinch. I won’t cut you.”

“I’ll be quite firm, sir,” said Bart, quietly; and the Doctor raised his knife.

As he did so, he glanced at where nine Indians were seated round the fire, expecting to see that they would be interested in what was taking place; but, on the contrary, they were to a man fully occupied in roasting their dried meat and the portions of the antelope that they had cut up. The operation on the chief did not interest them in the least, or if it did, they were too stoical to show it.

The Doctor then glanced at his savage patient, and laying one hand upon the dreadfully swollen limb, he received a nod of encouragement, for there was no sign of quailing in the chief’s eyes; but as the Doctor approached the point of the knife to a spot terribly discoloured, just below the elbow, the Indian made a sound full of remonstrance, and pointing to the wound above the wrist, signed to his attendant that he should slit the arm right up.

“No, no,” said the Doctor, smiling. “I’m not going to make a terrible wound like that. Leave it to me.”

He patted the chief on the shoulder as he spoke, and once more the Indian subsided into a state of stolidity, as if there were nothing the matter and he was not in the slightest pain.

Here I pause for a few moments as I say— Shall I describe what the Doctor did to save the Indian’s life, or shall I hold my hand?

I think I will go on, for there should be nothing objectionable in a few words describing the work of a man connected with one of the noblest professions under the sun.

There was no hesitation. With one quick, firm cut, the Doctor divided the flesh, piercing deep down, and as he cut his knife gave a sharp grate.

“Right on the arrowhead, Bart,” he said quietly; and, withdrawing his knife, he thrust a pair of sharp forceps into the wound, and seemed as if he were going to drag out the arrow, but it was only to divide the shaft. This he seized with the other forceps, and drew out of the bleeding opening—a piece nearly five inches long, which came away easily enough.

Then, without a moment’s hesitation, he sponged the cut for a while, and directly after, guiding them with the index finger of his left hand, he thrust the forceps once more into the wound.

There was a slight grating noise once again, a noise that Bart, as he manfully held the arm, seemed to feel go right through every nerve with a peculiar thrill. Then it was evident that the Doctor had fast hold of the arrowhead and he drew hard to take it out.

“I thought so,” he said, “it is driven firmly into the bone.”

As he spoke, he worked his forceps slightly to and fro, to loosen the arrowhead, and then, bearing firmly upon it, drew it out—an ugly, keen piece of nastily barbed iron, with a scrap of the shaft and some deer sinew attached.

The Doctor examined it attentively to see that everything had come away, and uttered a sigh of satisfaction, while the only sign the Indian gave was to draw a long, deep breath.

“There, Mr Tomahawk,” said the Doctor, smiling, as he held the arm over the bowl, and bathed the injury tenderly with fresh relays of water, till it nearly ceased bleeding; “that’s better than making a cut all along your arm, and I’ll be bound to say it feels easier already.”

The Indian did not move or speak, but sat there smoking patiently till the deep cut was sewn up, padded with lint, and bound, and the wound above the wrist, where the arrow had entered, was also dressed and bound up carefully.

“There: now your arm will heal,” said the Doctor, as he contrived a sling, and placed the injured limb at rest. “A man with such a fine healthy physique will not suffer much, I’ll be bound. Hah, it’s quite a treat to do some of the old work again.”

The chief waited patiently until the Doctor had finished. Then rising, he stood for a few moments with knitted brows, perfectly motionless; and the frontier man, seeing what was the matter, seemed to be about to proffer his arm, but the Indian paid no heed to him, merely gazing straight before him till the feeling of faintness had passed away, when he stooped and picked up the piece of arrow shaft and the head, walked with them to where his followers were sitting, and held them out for them to see. Then they were passed round with a series of grunts, duly examined, and finally found a resting-place in a little beaver-skin bag at the chiefs girdle, along with his paints and one or two pieces of so-called “medicine” or charms.

Meanwhile the Doctor was busy putting away his instruments, feeling greatly relieved that the encounter with the Indians had been of so friendly a nature.

At the end of a few minutes the chief came back with the large buffalo robe that had been strapped to the back of his pony, spread it before the Doctor, placed on it his rifle, tomahawk, knife, and pouch, and signed to him that they were his as a present.

“He means that it is all he has to give you, sir,” said Bart, who seemed to understand the chief’s ways quicker than his guardian, and who eagerly set himself to interpret.

“Yes, that seems to be his meaning,” replied the Doctor. “Well, let’s see if we can’t make him our friend.”

Saying which the Doctor stooped down, picked up the knife and hatchet and placed them in the chiefs belt, his rifle in the hollow of his arm, and finally his buffalo robe over his shoulders, ending by giving him his hand smilingly, and saying the one wordfriend,friend, two or three times over.

The chief made no reply, but gravely stalked back to his followers, as if affronted at the refusal of his gift, and the day passed with him lying down quietly smoking in the sage-brush, while the occupants of the Doctor’s little camp went uneasily about their various tasks, ending by dividing the night into watches, lest their savage neighbours should take it into their heads to depart suddenly with the white man’s horses—a favourite practice with Indians, and one that in this case would have been destructive of the expedition.

Chapter Seven.Another Alarm.To the surprise and satisfaction of Bart, all was well in the camp at daybreak when he looked round; the horses were grazing contentedly at the end of their tether ropes, and the Indians were just stirring, and raking together the fire that had been smouldering all the night.Breakfast was prepared, and they were about to partake thereof, when the Doctor took counsel with Joses as to what was best to be done.“Do you think they will molest us now?” he asked.“No, master, I don’t think so, but there’s no knowing how to take an Indian. I should be very careful about the horses though, for a good horse is more than an Indian can resist.”“I have thought the same; and it seems to me that we had better stay here until this party has gone, for I don’t want them to be following us from place to place.”“There’s a band of ’em somewhere not far away,” said Joses, “depend upon it, so p’r’aps it will be best to wait till we see which way they go, and then go totherwise.”Soon after breakfast the chief came up to the waggon and held out his arm to be examined, smiling gravely, and looking his satisfaction, as it was very plain that a great deal of the swelling had subsided.This went on for some days, during which the Indians seemed perfectly content with their quarters, they having found a better supply of water; and to show their friendliness, they made foraging expeditions, and brought in game which they shared in a very liberal way.This was all very well, but still it was not pleasant to have them as neighbours, and several times over the Doctor made up his mind to start and continue his expedition, and this he would have done but for the fact of his being sure that their savage friends, for this they now seemed to be, would follow them.At the end of ten days the chief’s arm had wonderfully altered, and with it his whole demeanour, the healthy, active life he led conducing largely towards the cure. But he was always quiet and reserved, making no advances, and always keeping aloof with his watchful little band.“We are wasting time horribly,” said the Doctor, one morning. “We’ll start at once.”“Why not wait till night and steal off?” said Maude.“Because we could not hide our trail,” said Bart. “The Indians could follow us. I think it will be best to let them see we don’t mind them, and go away boldly.”“That’s what I mean to do,” said the Doctor, and directly they had ended their meal, the few arrangements necessary were made, and after going and shaking hands all round with the stolid Indians, the horses were mounted, the waggon set in motion, and they rode back along the valley. Passing the Indian camp, they arrived at the opening through which, bearing off to the west, the Indians reached the plains, and for hours kept on winding in and out amongst the hills.It was after sundown that the Doctor called a halt in the wild rocky part that they had reached, a short rest in the very heat of the day being the only break which they had had in their journey. In fact, as darkness would soon be upon them, it would have been madness to proceed farther, the country having become so broken and wild that it would have been next to impossible to proceed without wrecking the waggon.Their usual precautions were taken as soon as a satisfactory nook was found with a fair supply of water, and soon after sunrise next morning, all having been well during the night, the Doctor and Bart started for a look round while breakfast was being prepared, Bart taking his rifle, as there was always the necessity for supplying the wants of the camp.“I wonder whether we shall see any more of the Indians,” said Bart, as they climbed up amongst the rocks to what looked almost like a gateway formed by a couple of boldly scarped masses, in whose strata lines various plants and shrubs maintained a precarious existence.“I wonder they have not followed us before now,” replied the Doctor. “Mind how you come. Can you climb it?”For answer, Bart leaped up to where the Doctor had clambered as easily as a mountain sheep, and after a little farther effort they reached the gate-like place, to find that it gave them a view right out on to the partly-wooded country beyond. For they had left the level, changeless plain on the other side of the rocks, and the sight of a fresh character of country was sufficient to make the Doctor eagerly take the little telescope he carried in a sling, and begin to sweep the horizon.As he did so, he let fall words about the beauty of the country.“Splendid grazing land,” he said, “well-watered. We must have a stay here.” Then lowering his glass, so as to take the landscape closer in, he uttered an ejaculation of astonishment.“Why, Bart,” he said, “I’m afraid here are the Indians Joses saw that night.”“Let me look, sir,” cried Bart, stretching out his hand forthe glass, but only to exclaim, “I can see them plainly enough without. Why, they cannot be much more than a mile away.”“And they seem to be journeying in our direction,” replied the Doctor. “Let’s get back quickly, and try if we cannot find another hiding-place for the waggon.”Hurrying back, Bart started the idea that these might be the main body of their friendly Indians.“So much the better for us, Master Bart, but I’m afraid that we shall not be so lucky again.”“I half fancied I saw our chief amongst them,” said Bart, giving vent to his sanguine feelings.“More than half fancy, Bart,” replied the Doctor, “for there he sits upon his horse.”He pointed with his glass, and, to Bart’s astonishment, there in the little wilderness of rocks that they had made their halting-place for the night, was the chief with his eleven followers who were already tethering their horses, and making arrangements to take up their quarters close by them as of old.“Do you think they mean to continue friendly?” asked Bart uneasily, for he could not help thinking how thoroughly they were at the mercy of the Indians if they proved hostile.“I cannot say,” replied the Doctor. “But look here, Bart, take the chief with you up to the gap, and show him the party beyond. His men may not have seen them, and we shall learn perhaps whether they are friends or foes.”On reaching the waggon, as no attempt was made by the Indians to join them or resume intercourse, Bart went straight up to the chief, and made signs to him to follow, which he proceeded to do upon his horse, but upon Bart, pointing upwards to the rocky ascent, he leaped off lightly, and the youth noticed that he was beginning to make use of his injured arm.In a very short time they had climbed to the opening between the rocks, where, upon seeing that there was open country beyond, the Indian at once crouched and approached cautiously, dropping flat upon the earth next moment, and crawling over the ground with a rapidity that astonished his companion, who was watching his face directly after, to try and read therefrom whether he belonged to the band of Indians in the open park in the land beyond.To Bart’s surprise, the chief drew back quickly, his face changed, and his whole figure seemed to be full of excitement.He said a few words rapidly, and then, seeing that he was not understood, he began to make signs, pointing first to the opening out into the plain, and then taking out his knife, and striking with it fiercely. Then he pointed once more to the opening, and to his wounded arm, going through the motions of one drawing a bow.“Friends, friends, friends,” he then said in a hoarse whisper, repeating the Doctor’s word, and then shaking his head and spitting angrily upon the ground, and striking with his knife.He then signed to Bart, to follow, and ran down the steep slope just as one of his followers cantered hastily up.Both had the same news to tell in the little camp, and though the Doctor could not comprehend the Indian chief’s dialect, his motions were significant enough, as he rapidly touched the barrels of his followers’ rifles, and then those of the white party, repeating the word, “Friends.”The next moment he had given orders which sent a couple of his men up the rocks, to play the part of scouts, while he hurriedly scanned their position, and chose a sheltered place, a couple of hundred yards back, where there was ample room for the horses and waggon, which were quietly taken there, the rocks and masses of stone around affording shelter and cover in case of attack.“There’s no doubt about their being friends now, Bart,” said the Doctor; “we must trust them for the future, but I pray Heaven that we may not be about to engage in shedding blood.”“We won’t hurt nobody, master,” said Joses, carefully examining his rifle, “so long as they leave us alone; but if they don’t, I’m afraid I shall make holes through some of them that you wouldn’t be able to cure.”Just then the Indian held up his hand to command silence, and directly after he pointed here and there to places that would command good views of approaching foes, while he angrily pointed to Maude, signing that she should crouch down closely behind some sheltering rocks.The Doctor yielded to his wishes, and then, in perfect silence, they waited for the coming of the Indian band, which if the trail were noted, they knew could not be long delayed.If Bart had felt any doubt before of these Indians with them being friendly, it was swept away now by the thorough earnestness with which they joined in the defence of their little stronghold. On either side of him were the stern-looking warriors, rifle in hand, watchful of eye and quick of ear, each listening attentively for danger while waiting for warnings from the scouts who had been sent out.As Bart thought over their position and its dangers, he grew troubled at heart about Maude, the sister and companion as she had always seemed to him, and somehow, much as he looked up to Dr Lascelles, who seemed to him the very height of knowledge, strength, and skill, it filled his mind with forebodings of the future as he wondered how they were to continue their expedition to the end without happening upon some terrible calamity.“Maude ought to have been left with friends, or sent to the city. It seems to me like madness to have brought her here.”Just then Dr Lascelles crept up cautiously behind him, making him start and turn scarlet as a hand was laid upon his shoulder; for it seemed to him as if the Doctor had been able to read his thoughts.“Why, Bart,” he said, smiling, “you look as red as fire; you ought to look as pale as milk. Do you want to begin the fight?”“No,” said Bart, sturdily; “I hope we shan’t have to fight at all, for it seems very horrid to have to shoot at a man.”“Ever so much more horrid for a man to shoot at you,” said Joses in a hoarse whisper as he crawled up behind them. “I’d sooner shoot twelve, than twelve should shoot me.”“Why have you left your post?” said the Doctor, looking at him sternly.“Came to say, master, that I think young miss aren’t safe. She will keep showing herself, and watching to see if you are all right, and that’ll make the Indians, if they come, all aim at her.”“You are right, Joses,” said the Doctor, hastily; and he went softly back to the waggon, while Joses went on in a grumbling whisper:“I don’t know what he wanted to bring her for. Course we all like her, Master Bart, but it scares me when I think of what it might lead to if we get hard pressed some of these days.”“Don’t croak, Joses,” whispered Bart; and then they were both silent and remained watching, for the chief held up his hand, pointing towards the rocks beyond, which they knew that their enemies were passing, and whose tops they scanned lest at any moment some of the painted warriors might appear searching the valley with their keen dark eyes.The hours passed, and the rocks around them grew painfully heated by the ardent rays that beat down upon them. Not a breath of air reached the corner where such anxious guard was kept; and to add to the discomfort of the watchers, a terrible thirst attacked them.Bart’s lips seemed cracking and his throat parched and burning, but this was all borne in fortitude; and as he saw the Indians on either side of him, bearing the inconveniences without a murmur, he forebore to complain.Towards mid-day, when the heat was tremendous, and Bart was wondering why the chief or Dr Lascelles did not make some movement to see whether the strange Indians had gone, and at the same time was ready to declare to himself that the men sent out as scouts must have gone to sleep, he felt a couple of hands placed upon his shoulders from behind, pressing him down, and then a long brown sinewy arm was thrust forward, with the hand pointing to the edge of the ridge a quarter of a mile away.Dr Lascelles had not returned, and Joses had some time before crept back to his own post, so that Bart was alone amongst their Indian friends.He knew at once whose was the pointing arm, and following the indicated direction, he saw plainly enough first the head and shoulders of an Indian come into sight, then there was apparently a scramble and a leap, and he could see that the man was mounted. And then followed another and another, till there was a group of half a dozen mounted men, who had ridden up some ravine to the top from the plain beyond, and who were now searching and scanning the valley where the Doctor’s encampment lay.Now was the crucial time. The neigh of a horse, the sight of an uncautiously exposed head or hand, would have been sufficient to betray their whereabouts, and sooner or later the attack would have come.But now it was that the clever strategy of the chief was seen, for he had chosen their retreat not merely for its strength, but for its concealment.Bart glanced back towards the waggon, and wondered how it was that this prominent object had not been seen. Fortunately, however, its tilt was of the colour of the surrounding rocks, and it was pretty well hidden behind some projecting masses.For quite a quarter of an hour this group of mounted Indians remained full in view, and all the time Bart’s sensations were that he must be seen as plainly as he could see his foes; but at last he saw them slowly disappear one by one over the other side of the ridge; and as soon as the last had gone the chief uttered a deep “Ugh!”There was danger though yet, and he would not let a man stir till quite half an hour later, when his two scouts came in quickly, and said a few words in a low guttural tone.“I should be for learning the language of these men if we were to stay with them, Bart,” said the Doctor; “but they may leave us at any time, and the next party we meet may talk a different dialect.”The chief’s acts were sufficient now to satisfy them that the present danger had passed, and soon after he and his men mounted and rode off without a word.

To the surprise and satisfaction of Bart, all was well in the camp at daybreak when he looked round; the horses were grazing contentedly at the end of their tether ropes, and the Indians were just stirring, and raking together the fire that had been smouldering all the night.

Breakfast was prepared, and they were about to partake thereof, when the Doctor took counsel with Joses as to what was best to be done.

“Do you think they will molest us now?” he asked.

“No, master, I don’t think so, but there’s no knowing how to take an Indian. I should be very careful about the horses though, for a good horse is more than an Indian can resist.”

“I have thought the same; and it seems to me that we had better stay here until this party has gone, for I don’t want them to be following us from place to place.”

“There’s a band of ’em somewhere not far away,” said Joses, “depend upon it, so p’r’aps it will be best to wait till we see which way they go, and then go totherwise.”

Soon after breakfast the chief came up to the waggon and held out his arm to be examined, smiling gravely, and looking his satisfaction, as it was very plain that a great deal of the swelling had subsided.

This went on for some days, during which the Indians seemed perfectly content with their quarters, they having found a better supply of water; and to show their friendliness, they made foraging expeditions, and brought in game which they shared in a very liberal way.

This was all very well, but still it was not pleasant to have them as neighbours, and several times over the Doctor made up his mind to start and continue his expedition, and this he would have done but for the fact of his being sure that their savage friends, for this they now seemed to be, would follow them.

At the end of ten days the chief’s arm had wonderfully altered, and with it his whole demeanour, the healthy, active life he led conducing largely towards the cure. But he was always quiet and reserved, making no advances, and always keeping aloof with his watchful little band.

“We are wasting time horribly,” said the Doctor, one morning. “We’ll start at once.”

“Why not wait till night and steal off?” said Maude.

“Because we could not hide our trail,” said Bart. “The Indians could follow us. I think it will be best to let them see we don’t mind them, and go away boldly.”

“That’s what I mean to do,” said the Doctor, and directly they had ended their meal, the few arrangements necessary were made, and after going and shaking hands all round with the stolid Indians, the horses were mounted, the waggon set in motion, and they rode back along the valley. Passing the Indian camp, they arrived at the opening through which, bearing off to the west, the Indians reached the plains, and for hours kept on winding in and out amongst the hills.

It was after sundown that the Doctor called a halt in the wild rocky part that they had reached, a short rest in the very heat of the day being the only break which they had had in their journey. In fact, as darkness would soon be upon them, it would have been madness to proceed farther, the country having become so broken and wild that it would have been next to impossible to proceed without wrecking the waggon.

Their usual precautions were taken as soon as a satisfactory nook was found with a fair supply of water, and soon after sunrise next morning, all having been well during the night, the Doctor and Bart started for a look round while breakfast was being prepared, Bart taking his rifle, as there was always the necessity for supplying the wants of the camp.

“I wonder whether we shall see any more of the Indians,” said Bart, as they climbed up amongst the rocks to what looked almost like a gateway formed by a couple of boldly scarped masses, in whose strata lines various plants and shrubs maintained a precarious existence.

“I wonder they have not followed us before now,” replied the Doctor. “Mind how you come. Can you climb it?”

For answer, Bart leaped up to where the Doctor had clambered as easily as a mountain sheep, and after a little farther effort they reached the gate-like place, to find that it gave them a view right out on to the partly-wooded country beyond. For they had left the level, changeless plain on the other side of the rocks, and the sight of a fresh character of country was sufficient to make the Doctor eagerly take the little telescope he carried in a sling, and begin to sweep the horizon.

As he did so, he let fall words about the beauty of the country.

“Splendid grazing land,” he said, “well-watered. We must have a stay here.” Then lowering his glass, so as to take the landscape closer in, he uttered an ejaculation of astonishment.

“Why, Bart,” he said, “I’m afraid here are the Indians Joses saw that night.”

“Let me look, sir,” cried Bart, stretching out his hand forthe glass, but only to exclaim, “I can see them plainly enough without. Why, they cannot be much more than a mile away.”

“And they seem to be journeying in our direction,” replied the Doctor. “Let’s get back quickly, and try if we cannot find another hiding-place for the waggon.”

Hurrying back, Bart started the idea that these might be the main body of their friendly Indians.

“So much the better for us, Master Bart, but I’m afraid that we shall not be so lucky again.”

“I half fancied I saw our chief amongst them,” said Bart, giving vent to his sanguine feelings.

“More than half fancy, Bart,” replied the Doctor, “for there he sits upon his horse.”

He pointed with his glass, and, to Bart’s astonishment, there in the little wilderness of rocks that they had made their halting-place for the night, was the chief with his eleven followers who were already tethering their horses, and making arrangements to take up their quarters close by them as of old.

“Do you think they mean to continue friendly?” asked Bart uneasily, for he could not help thinking how thoroughly they were at the mercy of the Indians if they proved hostile.

“I cannot say,” replied the Doctor. “But look here, Bart, take the chief with you up to the gap, and show him the party beyond. His men may not have seen them, and we shall learn perhaps whether they are friends or foes.”

On reaching the waggon, as no attempt was made by the Indians to join them or resume intercourse, Bart went straight up to the chief, and made signs to him to follow, which he proceeded to do upon his horse, but upon Bart, pointing upwards to the rocky ascent, he leaped off lightly, and the youth noticed that he was beginning to make use of his injured arm.

In a very short time they had climbed to the opening between the rocks, where, upon seeing that there was open country beyond, the Indian at once crouched and approached cautiously, dropping flat upon the earth next moment, and crawling over the ground with a rapidity that astonished his companion, who was watching his face directly after, to try and read therefrom whether he belonged to the band of Indians in the open park in the land beyond.

To Bart’s surprise, the chief drew back quickly, his face changed, and his whole figure seemed to be full of excitement.

He said a few words rapidly, and then, seeing that he was not understood, he began to make signs, pointing first to the opening out into the plain, and then taking out his knife, and striking with it fiercely. Then he pointed once more to the opening, and to his wounded arm, going through the motions of one drawing a bow.

“Friends, friends, friends,” he then said in a hoarse whisper, repeating the Doctor’s word, and then shaking his head and spitting angrily upon the ground, and striking with his knife.

He then signed to Bart, to follow, and ran down the steep slope just as one of his followers cantered hastily up.

Both had the same news to tell in the little camp, and though the Doctor could not comprehend the Indian chief’s dialect, his motions were significant enough, as he rapidly touched the barrels of his followers’ rifles, and then those of the white party, repeating the word, “Friends.”

The next moment he had given orders which sent a couple of his men up the rocks, to play the part of scouts, while he hurriedly scanned their position, and chose a sheltered place, a couple of hundred yards back, where there was ample room for the horses and waggon, which were quietly taken there, the rocks and masses of stone around affording shelter and cover in case of attack.

“There’s no doubt about their being friends now, Bart,” said the Doctor; “we must trust them for the future, but I pray Heaven that we may not be about to engage in shedding blood.”

“We won’t hurt nobody, master,” said Joses, carefully examining his rifle, “so long as they leave us alone; but if they don’t, I’m afraid I shall make holes through some of them that you wouldn’t be able to cure.”

Just then the Indian held up his hand to command silence, and directly after he pointed here and there to places that would command good views of approaching foes, while he angrily pointed to Maude, signing that she should crouch down closely behind some sheltering rocks.

The Doctor yielded to his wishes, and then, in perfect silence, they waited for the coming of the Indian band, which if the trail were noted, they knew could not be long delayed.

If Bart had felt any doubt before of these Indians with them being friendly, it was swept away now by the thorough earnestness with which they joined in the defence of their little stronghold. On either side of him were the stern-looking warriors, rifle in hand, watchful of eye and quick of ear, each listening attentively for danger while waiting for warnings from the scouts who had been sent out.

As Bart thought over their position and its dangers, he grew troubled at heart about Maude, the sister and companion as she had always seemed to him, and somehow, much as he looked up to Dr Lascelles, who seemed to him the very height of knowledge, strength, and skill, it filled his mind with forebodings of the future as he wondered how they were to continue their expedition to the end without happening upon some terrible calamity.

“Maude ought to have been left with friends, or sent to the city. It seems to me like madness to have brought her here.”

Just then Dr Lascelles crept up cautiously behind him, making him start and turn scarlet as a hand was laid upon his shoulder; for it seemed to him as if the Doctor had been able to read his thoughts.

“Why, Bart,” he said, smiling, “you look as red as fire; you ought to look as pale as milk. Do you want to begin the fight?”

“No,” said Bart, sturdily; “I hope we shan’t have to fight at all, for it seems very horrid to have to shoot at a man.”

“Ever so much more horrid for a man to shoot at you,” said Joses in a hoarse whisper as he crawled up behind them. “I’d sooner shoot twelve, than twelve should shoot me.”

“Why have you left your post?” said the Doctor, looking at him sternly.

“Came to say, master, that I think young miss aren’t safe. She will keep showing herself, and watching to see if you are all right, and that’ll make the Indians, if they come, all aim at her.”

“You are right, Joses,” said the Doctor, hastily; and he went softly back to the waggon, while Joses went on in a grumbling whisper:

“I don’t know what he wanted to bring her for. Course we all like her, Master Bart, but it scares me when I think of what it might lead to if we get hard pressed some of these days.”

“Don’t croak, Joses,” whispered Bart; and then they were both silent and remained watching, for the chief held up his hand, pointing towards the rocks beyond, which they knew that their enemies were passing, and whose tops they scanned lest at any moment some of the painted warriors might appear searching the valley with their keen dark eyes.

The hours passed, and the rocks around them grew painfully heated by the ardent rays that beat down upon them. Not a breath of air reached the corner where such anxious guard was kept; and to add to the discomfort of the watchers, a terrible thirst attacked them.

Bart’s lips seemed cracking and his throat parched and burning, but this was all borne in fortitude; and as he saw the Indians on either side of him, bearing the inconveniences without a murmur, he forebore to complain.

Towards mid-day, when the heat was tremendous, and Bart was wondering why the chief or Dr Lascelles did not make some movement to see whether the strange Indians had gone, and at the same time was ready to declare to himself that the men sent out as scouts must have gone to sleep, he felt a couple of hands placed upon his shoulders from behind, pressing him down, and then a long brown sinewy arm was thrust forward, with the hand pointing to the edge of the ridge a quarter of a mile away.

Dr Lascelles had not returned, and Joses had some time before crept back to his own post, so that Bart was alone amongst their Indian friends.

He knew at once whose was the pointing arm, and following the indicated direction, he saw plainly enough first the head and shoulders of an Indian come into sight, then there was apparently a scramble and a leap, and he could see that the man was mounted. And then followed another and another, till there was a group of half a dozen mounted men, who had ridden up some ravine to the top from the plain beyond, and who were now searching and scanning the valley where the Doctor’s encampment lay.

Now was the crucial time. The neigh of a horse, the sight of an uncautiously exposed head or hand, would have been sufficient to betray their whereabouts, and sooner or later the attack would have come.

But now it was that the clever strategy of the chief was seen, for he had chosen their retreat not merely for its strength, but for its concealment.

Bart glanced back towards the waggon, and wondered how it was that this prominent object had not been seen. Fortunately, however, its tilt was of the colour of the surrounding rocks, and it was pretty well hidden behind some projecting masses.

For quite a quarter of an hour this group of mounted Indians remained full in view, and all the time Bart’s sensations were that he must be seen as plainly as he could see his foes; but at last he saw them slowly disappear one by one over the other side of the ridge; and as soon as the last had gone the chief uttered a deep “Ugh!”

There was danger though yet, and he would not let a man stir till quite half an hour later, when his two scouts came in quickly, and said a few words in a low guttural tone.

“I should be for learning the language of these men if we were to stay with them, Bart,” said the Doctor; “but they may leave us at any time, and the next party we meet may talk a different dialect.”

The chief’s acts were sufficient now to satisfy them that the present danger had passed, and soon after he and his men mounted and rode off without a word.

Chapter Eight.Rough Customers.There was nothing to tempt a stay where they were, so taking advantage of their being once more alone, a fresh start was made along the most open course that presented itself, and some miles were placed between them and the last camp before a halt was made for the night.“We shan’t do no good, Master Bart,” said Joses, as they two kept watch for the first part of the night. “The master thinks we shall, but I don’t, and Juan don’t, and Sam and Harry don’t.”“But why not?”“Why not, Master Bart? How can you ’spect it, when you’ve got a young woman and a waggon and a tent along with you. Them’s all three things as stop you from getting over the ground. I don’t call this an exploring party; I call it just a-going out a-pleasuring when it’s all pain.”“You always would grumble, Joses; no matter where we were, or what we were doing, you would have your grumble. I suppose it does you good.”“Why, of course it does,” said Joses, with a low chuckling laugh. “If I wasn’t to grumble, that would all be in my mind making me sour, so I gets rid of it as soon as I can.”That night passed without adventure, and, starting at daybreak the next morning, they found a fine open stretch of plain before them, beyond which, blue and purple in the distance, rose the mountains, and these were looked upon as their temporary destination, for Dr Lascelles was of opinion that here he might discover something to reward his toils.The day was so hot and the journey so arduous, that upon getting to the farther side of the plain, with the ground growing terribly broken and rugged as they approached the mountain slopes, a suitable spot was selected, and the country being apparently quite free from danger, the tent was set up, and the quarters made snug for two or three days’ rest, so that the Doctor might make a good search about the mountain chasms and ravines, and see if there were any prospect of success.The place reached was very rugged, but it had an indescribable charm from the varied tints of the rocks and the clumps of bushes, with here and there a low scrubby tree, some of which proved to be laden with wild plums.“Why, those are wild grapes too, are they not?” said Bart, pointing to some clustering vines which hung over the rocks laden with purpling berries.“That they be,” said Joses; “and as sour as sour, I’ll bet. But I say, Master Bart, hear that?”“What! that piping noise?” replied Bart. “I was wondering what it could be.”“I’ll tell you, lad,” said Joses, chuckling. “That’s young wild turkeys calling to one another, and if we don’t have a few to roast it shan’t be our fault.”The Doctor was told of the find, and after all had been made snug, it was resolved to take guns and rifles, and search for something likely to prove an agreeable change.“For we may as well enjoy ourselves, Bart, and supply Madam Maude here with a few good things for our pic-nic pot.”The heat of the evening and the exertion of the long day’s journey made the party rather reluctant to stir after their meal, but at last guns were taken, and in the hope of securing a few of the wild turkeys, a start was made; but after a stroll in different directions, Joses began to shake his head, and to say that it would be no use till daybreak, for the turkeys had gone to roost.Walking, too, was difficult, and there were so many thorns, that, out of kindness to his child, the Doctor proposed that they should return to the tent; signals were made to the men at a distance, and thoroughly enjoying the cool, delicious air of approaching eve, they had nearly reached the tent, when about a hundred yards of the roughest ground had to be traversed—a part that seemed as if giants had been hurling down huge masses of the mountain to form a new chaos, among whose mighty boulders, awkward thorns, huge prickly cacti, and wild plums, grew in profusion.“What a place to turn into a wild garden, Bart!” said the Doctor, suddenly.“I had been thinking so,” cried Maude, eagerly. “What a place to build a house!”“And feed cattle, eh?” said the Doctor. “Very pretty to look at, my child, but I’m afraid that unless we could live by our guns, we should starve.”“Hough—hough—hough!” came from beyond a rugged piece of rock.“O father!” cried Maude, clinging to his arm.“Don’t hold me, child,” he said fiercely, “leave my arm free;” and starting forward, gun in hand, he made for the place from whence the hideous half-roaring, half-grunting noise had came.Before he had gone a dozen steps the sound was repeated, but away to their right. Then came the sharp reports of two guns, and, evidently seeing something hidden from her father and Bart, Maude sprang forward while they followed.“Don’t go, Missy, don’t go,” shouted Juan, and his cry was echoed by Harry; but she did not seem to hear them, and was the first to arrive at where a huge bear lay upon its flank, feebly clawing at the rock with fore and hind paw, it having received a couple of shots in vital parts.“Pray keep back, Maude,” cried Bart, running to her side.“I wanted to see it,” she said with an eager glance around at her father, who came up rapidly. “What is it?”“It’s the cub half grown of a grizzly bear,” said Dr Lascelles, speaking excitedly now. “Back, girl, to the tent; the mother must be close at hand.”“On, forward; she’s gone round to the right,” shouted the men behind, who had been trying to get on by another way, but were stopped by the rocks.“Back, girl!” said the Doctor again. “Forward all of you, steadily, and make every shot tell. Where is Joses?”Just then the deep hoarse grunting roar came again from a hollow down beyond them, and directly after, as they all hurried forward, each man ready to fire at the first chance, they heard a shot, and directly after came in sight of Joses, with his double rifle to his shoulder taking aim at a monstrous bear that, apparently half disabled by his last shot, was drawing itself up on a great shelving block of stone, and open mouthed and with blood and slaver running from its glistening ivory fangs, was just turning upon him to make a dash and strike him down.Just then a second shot rang out, and the bear rolled over, but sprang to its feet again with a terrific roar, and dashed at her assailant.It was impossible to fire now, lest Joses should be hit; and though he turned and fled, he was too late, for the bear, in spite of its huge, ox-like size, sprang upon him, striking him down, and stood over him.But now was the time, and the Doctor’s and Bart’s rifles both rang out, the latter going down on one knee to take careful aim; and as the smoke cleared away the bear was gone.“She’s made for those rocks yonder,” cried Juan, excitedly. “We’ll have her now, master. She didn’t seem hurt a bit.”“Be careful,” cried the Doctor. “Maude, help poor Joses. Go forward, Bart, but mind. She may be fatally wounded now.”Bart was for staying to help the man who had so often been his companion, but his orders were to go on; he knew that Joses could not be in better hands; and there was the inducement to slay his slayer to urge him forward as he ran with his rifle at the trail over the rocks, and was guided by the savage growling he could hear amidst some bushes to where the monster was at bay.It was fast approaching the moment when all would be in gloom, and Bart knew that it would be impossible for them to camp where they were with a wounded grizzly anywhere near at hand. Slain the monster must be, and at once; but though the growling was plain enough, the bear was not visible, and ammunition is too costly out in the desert for a single charge to be wasted by a foolish shot.Juan, Harry, and Sam were all in position, ready to fire, but still the animal did not show itself, so they went closer to the thicket, and threw in heavy stones, but without the least effect, till Juan suddenly exclaimed that he would go right in and drive the brute out.Bart forbade this, however, and the man contented himself with going a little closer, and throwing a heavy block in a part where they had not thrown before.A savage grunt was the result, and judging where the grizzly lay, Juan, without waiting for counsel, raised his rifle and fired, dropping his weapon and running for his life the next moment, for the shot was succeeded by a savage yell, and the monster came crashing out in a headlong charge, giving Juan no cause for flight, since his butt made straight for Bart, open mouthed, fiery-eyed, and panting for revenge.Bart’s first instinct was to turn and run, his second to stand his ground and fire right at the monster, taking deadly aim.But in moments of peril like his there is little time for the exercise of judgment, and ere he could raise his rifle to his shoulder and take careful aim the bear was upon him, rising up on its hind legs, not to hug him, as is generally supposed to be the habits of these beasts, but to strike at him right and left with its hideously armed paws.Bart did not know how it happened, but as the beast towered up in its huge proportions, he fired rapidly both barrels of his piece, one loaded with heavy shot for the turkeys, the other with ball, right into the monster’s chest.As he fired Bart leaped back, and it was well that he did so, for the grizzly fell forward with a heavy thud, almost where he had been standing, clawed at the rocks and stones for a few moments, and then lay perfectly still—dead.

There was nothing to tempt a stay where they were, so taking advantage of their being once more alone, a fresh start was made along the most open course that presented itself, and some miles were placed between them and the last camp before a halt was made for the night.

“We shan’t do no good, Master Bart,” said Joses, as they two kept watch for the first part of the night. “The master thinks we shall, but I don’t, and Juan don’t, and Sam and Harry don’t.”

“But why not?”

“Why not, Master Bart? How can you ’spect it, when you’ve got a young woman and a waggon and a tent along with you. Them’s all three things as stop you from getting over the ground. I don’t call this an exploring party; I call it just a-going out a-pleasuring when it’s all pain.”

“You always would grumble, Joses; no matter where we were, or what we were doing, you would have your grumble. I suppose it does you good.”

“Why, of course it does,” said Joses, with a low chuckling laugh. “If I wasn’t to grumble, that would all be in my mind making me sour, so I gets rid of it as soon as I can.”

That night passed without adventure, and, starting at daybreak the next morning, they found a fine open stretch of plain before them, beyond which, blue and purple in the distance, rose the mountains, and these were looked upon as their temporary destination, for Dr Lascelles was of opinion that here he might discover something to reward his toils.

The day was so hot and the journey so arduous, that upon getting to the farther side of the plain, with the ground growing terribly broken and rugged as they approached the mountain slopes, a suitable spot was selected, and the country being apparently quite free from danger, the tent was set up, and the quarters made snug for two or three days’ rest, so that the Doctor might make a good search about the mountain chasms and ravines, and see if there were any prospect of success.

The place reached was very rugged, but it had an indescribable charm from the varied tints of the rocks and the clumps of bushes, with here and there a low scrubby tree, some of which proved to be laden with wild plums.

“Why, those are wild grapes too, are they not?” said Bart, pointing to some clustering vines which hung over the rocks laden with purpling berries.

“That they be,” said Joses; “and as sour as sour, I’ll bet. But I say, Master Bart, hear that?”

“What! that piping noise?” replied Bart. “I was wondering what it could be.”

“I’ll tell you, lad,” said Joses, chuckling. “That’s young wild turkeys calling to one another, and if we don’t have a few to roast it shan’t be our fault.”

The Doctor was told of the find, and after all had been made snug, it was resolved to take guns and rifles, and search for something likely to prove an agreeable change.

“For we may as well enjoy ourselves, Bart, and supply Madam Maude here with a few good things for our pic-nic pot.”

The heat of the evening and the exertion of the long day’s journey made the party rather reluctant to stir after their meal, but at last guns were taken, and in the hope of securing a few of the wild turkeys, a start was made; but after a stroll in different directions, Joses began to shake his head, and to say that it would be no use till daybreak, for the turkeys had gone to roost.

Walking, too, was difficult, and there were so many thorns, that, out of kindness to his child, the Doctor proposed that they should return to the tent; signals were made to the men at a distance, and thoroughly enjoying the cool, delicious air of approaching eve, they had nearly reached the tent, when about a hundred yards of the roughest ground had to be traversed—a part that seemed as if giants had been hurling down huge masses of the mountain to form a new chaos, among whose mighty boulders, awkward thorns, huge prickly cacti, and wild plums, grew in profusion.

“What a place to turn into a wild garden, Bart!” said the Doctor, suddenly.

“I had been thinking so,” cried Maude, eagerly. “What a place to build a house!”

“And feed cattle, eh?” said the Doctor. “Very pretty to look at, my child, but I’m afraid that unless we could live by our guns, we should starve.”

“Hough—hough—hough!” came from beyond a rugged piece of rock.

“O father!” cried Maude, clinging to his arm.

“Don’t hold me, child,” he said fiercely, “leave my arm free;” and starting forward, gun in hand, he made for the place from whence the hideous half-roaring, half-grunting noise had came.

Before he had gone a dozen steps the sound was repeated, but away to their right. Then came the sharp reports of two guns, and, evidently seeing something hidden from her father and Bart, Maude sprang forward while they followed.

“Don’t go, Missy, don’t go,” shouted Juan, and his cry was echoed by Harry; but she did not seem to hear them, and was the first to arrive at where a huge bear lay upon its flank, feebly clawing at the rock with fore and hind paw, it having received a couple of shots in vital parts.

“Pray keep back, Maude,” cried Bart, running to her side.

“I wanted to see it,” she said with an eager glance around at her father, who came up rapidly. “What is it?”

“It’s the cub half grown of a grizzly bear,” said Dr Lascelles, speaking excitedly now. “Back, girl, to the tent; the mother must be close at hand.”

“On, forward; she’s gone round to the right,” shouted the men behind, who had been trying to get on by another way, but were stopped by the rocks.

“Back, girl!” said the Doctor again. “Forward all of you, steadily, and make every shot tell. Where is Joses?”

Just then the deep hoarse grunting roar came again from a hollow down beyond them, and directly after, as they all hurried forward, each man ready to fire at the first chance, they heard a shot, and directly after came in sight of Joses, with his double rifle to his shoulder taking aim at a monstrous bear that, apparently half disabled by his last shot, was drawing itself up on a great shelving block of stone, and open mouthed and with blood and slaver running from its glistening ivory fangs, was just turning upon him to make a dash and strike him down.

Just then a second shot rang out, and the bear rolled over, but sprang to its feet again with a terrific roar, and dashed at her assailant.

It was impossible to fire now, lest Joses should be hit; and though he turned and fled, he was too late, for the bear, in spite of its huge, ox-like size, sprang upon him, striking him down, and stood over him.

But now was the time, and the Doctor’s and Bart’s rifles both rang out, the latter going down on one knee to take careful aim; and as the smoke cleared away the bear was gone.

“She’s made for those rocks yonder,” cried Juan, excitedly. “We’ll have her now, master. She didn’t seem hurt a bit.”

“Be careful,” cried the Doctor. “Maude, help poor Joses. Go forward, Bart, but mind. She may be fatally wounded now.”

Bart was for staying to help the man who had so often been his companion, but his orders were to go on; he knew that Joses could not be in better hands; and there was the inducement to slay his slayer to urge him forward as he ran with his rifle at the trail over the rocks, and was guided by the savage growling he could hear amidst some bushes to where the monster was at bay.

It was fast approaching the moment when all would be in gloom, and Bart knew that it would be impossible for them to camp where they were with a wounded grizzly anywhere near at hand. Slain the monster must be, and at once; but though the growling was plain enough, the bear was not visible, and ammunition is too costly out in the desert for a single charge to be wasted by a foolish shot.

Juan, Harry, and Sam were all in position, ready to fire, but still the animal did not show itself, so they went closer to the thicket, and threw in heavy stones, but without the least effect, till Juan suddenly exclaimed that he would go right in and drive the brute out.

Bart forbade this, however, and the man contented himself with going a little closer, and throwing a heavy block in a part where they had not thrown before.

A savage grunt was the result, and judging where the grizzly lay, Juan, without waiting for counsel, raised his rifle and fired, dropping his weapon and running for his life the next moment, for the shot was succeeded by a savage yell, and the monster came crashing out in a headlong charge, giving Juan no cause for flight, since his butt made straight for Bart, open mouthed, fiery-eyed, and panting for revenge.

Bart’s first instinct was to turn and run, his second to stand his ground and fire right at the monster, taking deadly aim.

But in moments of peril like his there is little time for the exercise of judgment, and ere he could raise his rifle to his shoulder and take careful aim the bear was upon him, rising up on its hind legs, not to hug him, as is generally supposed to be the habits of these beasts, but to strike at him right and left with its hideously armed paws.

Bart did not know how it happened, but as the beast towered up in its huge proportions, he fired rapidly both barrels of his piece, one loaded with heavy shot for the turkeys, the other with ball, right into the monster’s chest.

As he fired Bart leaped back, and it was well that he did so, for the grizzly fell forward with a heavy thud, almost where he had been standing, clawed at the rocks and stones for a few moments, and then lay perfectly still—dead.

Back to IndexNext