Chapter Twenty Eight.Down in the Silver Canyon.The Doctor had not lost any time. Tents had been set up, and men were busy raising sheds of rough stone which were to be roofed over with poles. But at the same time, he had had men toiling away in opening up a rift that promised to yield silver pretty bounteously, for the ancient mine seemed hardly a likely place now, being dangerous, and the principal parts that were easy of access apparently pretty well worked out.This was something of a disappointment, but a trifling one, for the mountain teemed with silver, and then there was the canyon to explore.This the Doctor proposed to examine on the day following Bart’s return, for the services of the chief would be required to find a way down unless the descent was to be made by ropes.The Beaver and his interpreter were brought to the Doctor’s tent, and the matter being explained, the Indian smiled, and expressed his willingness to show them at once; so a few preparations having been made, and some provisions packed in case that the journey should prove long, Bart, the Doctor, Joses, and the interpreter started, leaving the Beaver in front to lead the way.He started off in a line parallel to the canyon, as it seemed to Bart, and made for a patch of good-sized trees about half a mile from the mountain, and upon reaching this they found that the great river chasm had curved round, so that it was not above a hundred yards away, and Bart began to think that perhaps it would not prove to be so precipitous there.The Beaver, seeing his eagerness, smiled and nodded, and thrusting the bushes aside, he entered the patch of dense forest, which was apparently about half a mile in length, running with a breadth of half that distance along the edge of the canyon.The interpreter followed, and after a few minutes they returned to say that no progress could be made in that direction, so they re-entered the forest some fifty yards lower, and where it looked less promising than before.The chief, however, seemed to be satisfied, and drawing his knife, he hacked and chopped at the projecting vines and thorns so as to clear a way for those who followed; till after winding in and out for some time, he came at length to what seemed little more than a crack in the ground about a yard wide, and pretty well choked up with various kinds of growth.At the first glance it seemed impossible for any one to descend into this rift, but the interpreter showed them that it was possible by leaping down, and directly after there was a loud, rattling noise, and an extremely large rattlesnake glided out of the rift on to the level ground. It was making its escape, when a sharp blow from the chief’s knife divided it nearly in two, and he finished his task by crushing its head with the butt of his rifle.“We must be on the look-out, Bart,” said the Doctor, “if these reptiles are in any quantity;” and as the Beaver leaped down he followed, then came Bart, and Joses closed up the rear.“I shall get all the sarpents,” he grumbled. “You people will disturb them all, and they’ll do their stinging upon me.”Then the descent became so toilsome that conversation ceased, and nothing was heard but the crackling of twigs, the breaking off of branches, and the sharp, rustling noise that followed as the travellers forced their way through the bushes.This lasted for about fifty yards, and then the descent became very rapid, and the trees larger and less crowded together. The rift widened, too, at times, but only to contract again; and then its sides so nearly approached that their path became terribly obscure, and without so energetic a guide as they possessed it would have required a stout-hearted man to proceed.Every here and there they had to slide down the rock perhaps forty or fifty feet; then there would be a careful picking of the way over some rugged stones, and then another slide down for a while.Once or twice it seemed as if they had come to a full stop, the rift being closed up by fallen masses of earth and stones; but the Beaver mounted these boldly, as if he knew of their existence, and lowered himself gently down the other side, waiting to help the Doctor, for Bart laughingly declined, preferring as he did to leap from stone to stone, and swing himself over cracks that seemed almost impassable.“This is nature’s work, Bart,” the Doctor said, as he paused to wipe his streaming face. “No former inhabitants ever made this. It is an earthquake-split, I should say.”“But it might be easily made into a good path, sir,” replied Bart.“It might be made, Bart, but not easily, and it would require a great deal of engineering to do it. How dark it grows! You see nothing hardly can grow down here except these mosses and little fungi.”“Is it much farther, sir?” cried Bart.“What! are you tired, my lad?”“No, sir; not I. Only it seems as if we must be near the bottom of the canyon.”“No, not yet,” said the Beaver in good English, and both the Doctor and Bart smiled, while the chief seemed pleased at his advance in the English tongue being noticed. “Long down—long down,” he said in continuation.“The Beaver-with-Sharp-Teeth tells the English chief and the little boy English chief that it is far yet to the bottom of the way to the rushing river of the mountain,” said the interpreter, and the chief frowned at him angrily, while Bart felt as if he should like to kick him for calling him a “little boy English chief;” but the stoical Indian calmly and indifferently allowed the angry looks he received to pass, and followed the party down as they laboriously stepped from stone to stone.“There’s a pretty good flush o’ water here in rainy times, master,” shouted Joses. “See how all the earth has been washed out. Shouldn’t wonder if you found gold here.”“I ought to have thought of that, Joses,” replied the Doctor, as he proceeded to examine the crevices of the rock over which he was walking as well as he could for the gloom and obscurity of the place, and at the end of five minutes he uttered a cry of joy. “Here it is!” he exclaimed, holding up two or three rounded nodules of metal. “No; I am wrong,” he said. “This light deceives me; it is silver.”To his surprise, the Beaver took them from his hand with a gesture of contempt, and threw the pieces away, though they would have purchased him a new blanket or an ample supply of ammunition at Lerisco or any other southern town.“Wait,” he said, airing his English once more. “Plenty! plenty!” and he pointed down towards the lower part of the narrow crevice or crack in the rock along which they were passing.“Go on, then,” said the Doctor; and once more they continued their descent, which grew more difficult moment by moment, and more dark, and wild, and strange.For now the rock towered up on either side to a tremendous height, and the daylight only appeared as a narrow streak of sky, dappled with dark spots where the trees hung over the rift. Then the sky was shut out altogether, and they went on with their descent in the midst of a curious gloom that reminded Bart of the hour just when the first streaks of dawn are beginning to appear in the morning sky.This went on for what seemed to be some time, the descent growing steeper and more difficult; but at last there came a pleasant rushing sound, which Bart knew must be that of the river. Then there was the loud song of a bird, which floated up from far below, and then all at once a pale light appeared on the side of the rocks, which were now so near together that the sides in places nearly touched above their heads.Five minutes’ more arduous descent, and there was glistening wet moss on the rock, and the light was stronger, while the next minute the pure, clear light of day flashed up from an opening that seemed almost at their feet—an opening that was almost carpeted with verdant green, upon which, after dropping from a rock some ten feet high, they stood, pausing beneath an arch of interweaving boughs that almost hid the entrance to the rift, and there they stood, almost enraptured by the beauty of the scene.For the bottom of the canyon had been reached, and its mighty verdure-decked, rocky walls rose up sheer above their heads, appearing to narrow towards the top, though this was an optical delusion. All was bright and glorious in the sunshine. The trees and shrubs were of a vivid green, the grass was brilliant with flowers; and running in serpentine waves through the middle of the lovely prairie that softly sloped down to it on either side, and whose sedges and clumps of trees dipped their tips in its sparkling waters, ran the river, dancing and foaming here over its rocky bed, there swirling round and forming deep pools, while in its clear waters as they approached Bart could see the glancing scales of innumerable fish on its sun-illumined shallows.Hot and weary with their descent, the first act of all present was to dip their cups into the pure clear water, and then, as soon as their feverish thirst was allayed, the Doctor proceeded to test the sand of the river to see if it contained gold, while Bart, after wondering why a man who had discovered a silver mine of immense wealth could not be satisfied, went wandering off along the edge of the river, longing for some means of capturing the fish, whose silver scales flashed in the sunshine whenever they glided sidewise over some shallow ridge of yellow sand that would not allow of their swimming in the ordinary way.Sometimes he was able to leap from rock to rock that stood out of the river bed, and formed a series of barriers, around which the swift stream fretted and boiled, rushing between them in a series of cascades; and wherever one of these masses of water-worn stone lay in the midst of the rapid stream, Bart found that there was always a deep still transparent pool behind; and he had only to approach softly, and bend down or lie upon his chest, with his head beyond the edge, to see that this pool was the home of some splendid fish, a very tyrant ready to pounce upon everything that was swept into the still water.“I wish we were not bothering about gold and silver,” thought Bart, as after feasting his eyes upon the fish he turned to gaze upon the beauties of the drooping trees, and spire-shaped pines that grew as regular in shape as if they had been cast in the same mould; while, above all, the gloriously coloured walls of the canyon excited his wonder, and made him long to scale them, climbing into the many apparently inaccessible places, and hunting for fruit, and flower, and bird.Bart had rambled down the river, so rapt in the beauties around him that he forgot all about the Doctor and his search for the precious metals. All at once, as he was seated out upon a mass of stone by the river side, it struck him that, though he had watched the fish a good deal, it would be very pleasant to wade across a shallow to where a reef of rocks stood out of the water, so placed that as soon as he reached them he could leap from one to the other, and settle himself down almost in the very middle of the river; and when there he determined to wait his chance and see if he could not shoot two or three of the largest trout for their meal that night.The plan was no sooner thought of than Bart proceeded to put it in execution.He waded the shallow pretty easily, though he could not help wondering at the manner in which his feet sank down into the soft sand, which seemed to let them in right up to the knees at once, and then to close so tightly round them that, to use his own words, he seemed to have been thrusting his legs into leaden boots. However, he dragged them out, reached the first rock of the barrier or reef, and stood for a few minutes enjoying the beauty of the scene, while the stream rushed by on either side with tremendous force.The next stone was a good five feet away, with a deep glassy flood rushing around. Bart leaped over it, landed safely, and found the next rock quite six feet distant, and a good deal higher than the one he was upon.He paused for a moment or two to think what would be the consequences if he did not reach this stone, and judged that it meant a good ducking and a bit of a swim to one of the shallows below.“But I should get my rifle and cartridges wet,” he said aloud, “and that would never do. Shall I? Shan’t I?”Bart’s answer was to gather himself up and leap, with the result that he just reached the edge of the rock, and throwing himself forward managed to hold on, and then scramble up in safety.Going back’s easy enough, thought Bart, as he prepared to bound to the next rock, a long mass, like the back of some monstrous alligator just rising above the flood. Along this he walked seven or eight yards, jumped from block to block of a dozen more rugged pieces, and then bounded upon a roughly semi-circular piece that ended the ridge like a bastion, beyond which the water ran deep and swift, with many an eddy and mighty curl.“This is grand!” cried Bart, whose eyes flashed with pleasure; and settling himself down in a comfortable position, he laid his rifle across his knees with the intention of watching the fish in a shallow just above him, but only to forget all about them directly after, as he sat enjoying the beauties of the scene, and wished that his sisterly companion Maude were there to see how wonderfully grand their mother Nature could be.“If there were no Indians,” thought Bart, “and a good large town close by, what a lovely place this would be for a house. I could find a splendid spot; and then one could hunt on the plains, and shoot and fish, and the Doctor could find silver and gold, and—good gracious! What’s that?”
The Doctor had not lost any time. Tents had been set up, and men were busy raising sheds of rough stone which were to be roofed over with poles. But at the same time, he had had men toiling away in opening up a rift that promised to yield silver pretty bounteously, for the ancient mine seemed hardly a likely place now, being dangerous, and the principal parts that were easy of access apparently pretty well worked out.
This was something of a disappointment, but a trifling one, for the mountain teemed with silver, and then there was the canyon to explore.
This the Doctor proposed to examine on the day following Bart’s return, for the services of the chief would be required to find a way down unless the descent was to be made by ropes.
The Beaver and his interpreter were brought to the Doctor’s tent, and the matter being explained, the Indian smiled, and expressed his willingness to show them at once; so a few preparations having been made, and some provisions packed in case that the journey should prove long, Bart, the Doctor, Joses, and the interpreter started, leaving the Beaver in front to lead the way.
He started off in a line parallel to the canyon, as it seemed to Bart, and made for a patch of good-sized trees about half a mile from the mountain, and upon reaching this they found that the great river chasm had curved round, so that it was not above a hundred yards away, and Bart began to think that perhaps it would not prove to be so precipitous there.
The Beaver, seeing his eagerness, smiled and nodded, and thrusting the bushes aside, he entered the patch of dense forest, which was apparently about half a mile in length, running with a breadth of half that distance along the edge of the canyon.
The interpreter followed, and after a few minutes they returned to say that no progress could be made in that direction, so they re-entered the forest some fifty yards lower, and where it looked less promising than before.
The chief, however, seemed to be satisfied, and drawing his knife, he hacked and chopped at the projecting vines and thorns so as to clear a way for those who followed; till after winding in and out for some time, he came at length to what seemed little more than a crack in the ground about a yard wide, and pretty well choked up with various kinds of growth.
At the first glance it seemed impossible for any one to descend into this rift, but the interpreter showed them that it was possible by leaping down, and directly after there was a loud, rattling noise, and an extremely large rattlesnake glided out of the rift on to the level ground. It was making its escape, when a sharp blow from the chief’s knife divided it nearly in two, and he finished his task by crushing its head with the butt of his rifle.
“We must be on the look-out, Bart,” said the Doctor, “if these reptiles are in any quantity;” and as the Beaver leaped down he followed, then came Bart, and Joses closed up the rear.
“I shall get all the sarpents,” he grumbled. “You people will disturb them all, and they’ll do their stinging upon me.”
Then the descent became so toilsome that conversation ceased, and nothing was heard but the crackling of twigs, the breaking off of branches, and the sharp, rustling noise that followed as the travellers forced their way through the bushes.
This lasted for about fifty yards, and then the descent became very rapid, and the trees larger and less crowded together. The rift widened, too, at times, but only to contract again; and then its sides so nearly approached that their path became terribly obscure, and without so energetic a guide as they possessed it would have required a stout-hearted man to proceed.
Every here and there they had to slide down the rock perhaps forty or fifty feet; then there would be a careful picking of the way over some rugged stones, and then another slide down for a while.
Once or twice it seemed as if they had come to a full stop, the rift being closed up by fallen masses of earth and stones; but the Beaver mounted these boldly, as if he knew of their existence, and lowered himself gently down the other side, waiting to help the Doctor, for Bart laughingly declined, preferring as he did to leap from stone to stone, and swing himself over cracks that seemed almost impassable.
“This is nature’s work, Bart,” the Doctor said, as he paused to wipe his streaming face. “No former inhabitants ever made this. It is an earthquake-split, I should say.”
“But it might be easily made into a good path, sir,” replied Bart.
“It might be made, Bart, but not easily, and it would require a great deal of engineering to do it. How dark it grows! You see nothing hardly can grow down here except these mosses and little fungi.”
“Is it much farther, sir?” cried Bart.
“What! are you tired, my lad?”
“No, sir; not I. Only it seems as if we must be near the bottom of the canyon.”
“No, not yet,” said the Beaver in good English, and both the Doctor and Bart smiled, while the chief seemed pleased at his advance in the English tongue being noticed. “Long down—long down,” he said in continuation.
“The Beaver-with-Sharp-Teeth tells the English chief and the little boy English chief that it is far yet to the bottom of the way to the rushing river of the mountain,” said the interpreter, and the chief frowned at him angrily, while Bart felt as if he should like to kick him for calling him a “little boy English chief;” but the stoical Indian calmly and indifferently allowed the angry looks he received to pass, and followed the party down as they laboriously stepped from stone to stone.
“There’s a pretty good flush o’ water here in rainy times, master,” shouted Joses. “See how all the earth has been washed out. Shouldn’t wonder if you found gold here.”
“I ought to have thought of that, Joses,” replied the Doctor, as he proceeded to examine the crevices of the rock over which he was walking as well as he could for the gloom and obscurity of the place, and at the end of five minutes he uttered a cry of joy. “Here it is!” he exclaimed, holding up two or three rounded nodules of metal. “No; I am wrong,” he said. “This light deceives me; it is silver.”
To his surprise, the Beaver took them from his hand with a gesture of contempt, and threw the pieces away, though they would have purchased him a new blanket or an ample supply of ammunition at Lerisco or any other southern town.
“Wait,” he said, airing his English once more. “Plenty! plenty!” and he pointed down towards the lower part of the narrow crevice or crack in the rock along which they were passing.
“Go on, then,” said the Doctor; and once more they continued their descent, which grew more difficult moment by moment, and more dark, and wild, and strange.
For now the rock towered up on either side to a tremendous height, and the daylight only appeared as a narrow streak of sky, dappled with dark spots where the trees hung over the rift. Then the sky was shut out altogether, and they went on with their descent in the midst of a curious gloom that reminded Bart of the hour just when the first streaks of dawn are beginning to appear in the morning sky.
This went on for what seemed to be some time, the descent growing steeper and more difficult; but at last there came a pleasant rushing sound, which Bart knew must be that of the river. Then there was the loud song of a bird, which floated up from far below, and then all at once a pale light appeared on the side of the rocks, which were now so near together that the sides in places nearly touched above their heads.
Five minutes’ more arduous descent, and there was glistening wet moss on the rock, and the light was stronger, while the next minute the pure, clear light of day flashed up from an opening that seemed almost at their feet—an opening that was almost carpeted with verdant green, upon which, after dropping from a rock some ten feet high, they stood, pausing beneath an arch of interweaving boughs that almost hid the entrance to the rift, and there they stood, almost enraptured by the beauty of the scene.
For the bottom of the canyon had been reached, and its mighty verdure-decked, rocky walls rose up sheer above their heads, appearing to narrow towards the top, though this was an optical delusion. All was bright and glorious in the sunshine. The trees and shrubs were of a vivid green, the grass was brilliant with flowers; and running in serpentine waves through the middle of the lovely prairie that softly sloped down to it on either side, and whose sedges and clumps of trees dipped their tips in its sparkling waters, ran the river, dancing and foaming here over its rocky bed, there swirling round and forming deep pools, while in its clear waters as they approached Bart could see the glancing scales of innumerable fish on its sun-illumined shallows.
Hot and weary with their descent, the first act of all present was to dip their cups into the pure clear water, and then, as soon as their feverish thirst was allayed, the Doctor proceeded to test the sand of the river to see if it contained gold, while Bart, after wondering why a man who had discovered a silver mine of immense wealth could not be satisfied, went wandering off along the edge of the river, longing for some means of capturing the fish, whose silver scales flashed in the sunshine whenever they glided sidewise over some shallow ridge of yellow sand that would not allow of their swimming in the ordinary way.
Sometimes he was able to leap from rock to rock that stood out of the river bed, and formed a series of barriers, around which the swift stream fretted and boiled, rushing between them in a series of cascades; and wherever one of these masses of water-worn stone lay in the midst of the rapid stream, Bart found that there was always a deep still transparent pool behind; and he had only to approach softly, and bend down or lie upon his chest, with his head beyond the edge, to see that this pool was the home of some splendid fish, a very tyrant ready to pounce upon everything that was swept into the still water.
“I wish we were not bothering about gold and silver,” thought Bart, as after feasting his eyes upon the fish he turned to gaze upon the beauties of the drooping trees, and spire-shaped pines that grew as regular in shape as if they had been cast in the same mould; while, above all, the gloriously coloured walls of the canyon excited his wonder, and made him long to scale them, climbing into the many apparently inaccessible places, and hunting for fruit, and flower, and bird.
Bart had rambled down the river, so rapt in the beauties around him that he forgot all about the Doctor and his search for the precious metals. All at once, as he was seated out upon a mass of stone by the river side, it struck him that, though he had watched the fish a good deal, it would be very pleasant to wade across a shallow to where a reef of rocks stood out of the water, so placed that as soon as he reached them he could leap from one to the other, and settle himself down almost in the very middle of the river; and when there he determined to wait his chance and see if he could not shoot two or three of the largest trout for their meal that night.
The plan was no sooner thought of than Bart proceeded to put it in execution.
He waded the shallow pretty easily, though he could not help wondering at the manner in which his feet sank down into the soft sand, which seemed to let them in right up to the knees at once, and then to close so tightly round them that, to use his own words, he seemed to have been thrusting his legs into leaden boots. However, he dragged them out, reached the first rock of the barrier or reef, and stood for a few minutes enjoying the beauty of the scene, while the stream rushed by on either side with tremendous force.
The next stone was a good five feet away, with a deep glassy flood rushing around. Bart leaped over it, landed safely, and found the next rock quite six feet distant, and a good deal higher than the one he was upon.
He paused for a moment or two to think what would be the consequences if he did not reach this stone, and judged that it meant a good ducking and a bit of a swim to one of the shallows below.
“But I should get my rifle and cartridges wet,” he said aloud, “and that would never do. Shall I? Shan’t I?”
Bart’s answer was to gather himself up and leap, with the result that he just reached the edge of the rock, and throwing himself forward managed to hold on, and then scramble up in safety.
Going back’s easy enough, thought Bart, as he prepared to bound to the next rock, a long mass, like the back of some monstrous alligator just rising above the flood. Along this he walked seven or eight yards, jumped from block to block of a dozen more rugged pieces, and then bounded upon a roughly semi-circular piece that ended the ridge like a bastion, beyond which the water ran deep and swift, with many an eddy and mighty curl.
“This is grand!” cried Bart, whose eyes flashed with pleasure; and settling himself down in a comfortable position, he laid his rifle across his knees with the intention of watching the fish in a shallow just above him, but only to forget all about them directly after, as he sat enjoying the beauties of the scene, and wished that his sisterly companion Maude were there to see how wonderfully grand their mother Nature could be.
“If there were no Indians,” thought Bart, “and a good large town close by, what a lovely place this would be for a house. I could find a splendid spot; and then one could hunt on the plains, and shoot and fish, and the Doctor could find silver and gold, and—good gracious! What’s that?”
Chapter Twenty Nine.A Narrow Escape.Bart laid down his rifle as he uttered this very feminine exclamation, and shading his eyes, gazed before him up the river.For as he had been dreamily gazing before him at the shallow where the water ran over a bed of the purest sand for about a hundred yards, it seemed to him that he had seen a dark something roll over, and then for a moment a hand appeared above the water, or else it was the ragged leaf of some great water-plant washed out from its place of growth in the bank.“It looks like—it must be—it is!” cried Bart. “Somebody has fallen in, and is drowning.”As he thought this a chill feeling of horror seemed to rob him of the power of motion. And now, as he gazed at the glittering water with starting eyes, he knew that there was no mistake—it was no fancy, for their was a body being rolled over and over by the stream, now catching, now sweeping along swiftly, and nearer and nearer to where the lad crouched.The water before him was shallow enough, and all clear sand, so without hesitation Bart lowered himself down from the rock, stepped on to the sand with the water now to his knees, and was then about to wade towards the body, when he turned sharply and clutched the rough surface of the rock, clinging tightly, and after a brief struggle managed to clamber back panting, and with the perspiration in great drops upon his brow.He knew now what he had only partly realised before, and that was the fact that these beautiful, smooth sands, over which the swift current pleasantly glided, were quicksands of the most deadly kind, and that if he had not struggled back there would have been no chance of escape. Another step would have been fatal, and he must have gone down, for no swimming could avail in such a strait.But Bart, in spite of the shock of his narrow escape, had not forgotten the object for which he had lowered himself from the rock, and gazing eagerly towards the shallows, he saw that it was just being swept off then into the deep water that rushed round the buttress upon which he stood.It was the work of moments. Reaching out as far as he could, he just managed to grip the clinging garment of the object sweeping by, and as he grasped it tightly, so great was the power of the water, that he felt a sudden snatch that threatened to tear the prize from his hand. But Bart held on fiercely, and before he could fully comprehend his position he found that he had overbalanced himself, and the next moment he had gone under with a sullen plunge.Bart was a good swimmer, and though encumbered with his clothes, he felt no fear of reaching the bank somewhere lower down; and, confident in this respect, he looked round as he rose to the surface for the body of him he had tried to save, for as he struck the water he had loosened his hold.There was just a glimmer of something below the surface, and taking a couple of sturdy strokes, Bart reached it before it sank lower, caught hold, and then guiding his burden, struck out for the shore.The rocks from which he had come were already a hundred yards above them, the stream sweeping them down with incredible swiftness, and Bart knew that it would be folly to do more than go with it, striving gently the while to guide his course towards some projecting rocks upon the bank. There was the possibility, too, of finding some eddy which might lead him shoreward; and after fighting hard to get a hold upon a piece of smooth stone that promised well, but from which he literally seemed to be plucked by the rushing water, Bart found himself in a deep, still pool, round which he was swept twice, and, to his horror, nearer each time towards the centre, where, with an agonising pang, he felt that he might be sucked down.Dreading this, he made a desperate effort, and once more reached the very edge of the great, calm, swirling pool just as the bushes on the bank were parted with a loud rush, and the Beaver literally bounded into the water, to render such help that when, faint and exhausted, they all reached a shallow, rocky portion of the stream a quarter of a mile below where Bart had made his plunge, the chief was ready to lift out the object the lad had tried to save, and then hold out his hand and help the lad ashore.The next minute they were striving all they knew to try and resuscitate him whom Bart had nearly lost his life in trying to save, the interpreter joining them to lend his help; and as they worked, trying the plan adopted by the Indians in such a case, the new-comer told Bart how the accident had occurred.His words amounted to the statement that while the speaker and the chief had been collecting sticks for a fire to roast a salmon they had speared with a sharp, forked stick, they had seen the Doctor busily rinsing the sand in a shallow pool of the rocks, well out, where the stream ran fast. They had not anticipated danger, and were busy over their preparations, when looking up all at once, they found the Doctor was gone.Even then they did not think there was anything wrong, believing that while they were busy their leader had gone to some other part among the rocks, till, happening to glance down the stream some minutes later, the Beaver’s quick eyes had caught sight of the bright tin bowl which the Doctor had been using to rinse the sand in his hunt for gold, floating on the surface a hundred yards below, and slowly sailing round and round in an eddy.This started them in search of the drowning man, with the result that they reached Bart in time to save both.For after a long and arduous task the Doctor began to show signs of returning life, and at last opened his eyes and stared about him like one who had just awakened from a dream.“What—what has happened?” he asked. “Did—did I slip from the rocks, or have I been asleep?”He shuddered, and struggled into a sitting position, then thoroughly comprehending after a few minutes what had passed:“Who saved me?” he asked quickly.The Beaver seemed to understand the drift of the question, for he pointed with a smile to Bart.“You?” exclaimed the Doctor.“Oh, I did nothing,” said Bart modestly. “I saw you floating down towards me, and tried to pull you on a rock; instead of doing which, you pulled me in, and we swam down together till I got near the shore, and then I could do no more. It was the Beaver there who saved us.”The Doctor rose and grasped the chief’s hand, wringing it warmly.“Where’s Joses?” he said sharply.No one knew.“Let us go back,” said the Doctor; “perhaps we shall meet him higher up;” and looking faint and utterly exhausted, he followed the two Indians as they chose the most easy part of the valley for walking, the Doctor’s words proving to be right, for they came upon Joses toiling down towards the passage leading to the plain with six heavy fish hanging from a tough wand thrust through their gills.They reached the chimney, as Bart christened it, just about the same time as Joses, who stared as he caught sight of the saturated clothes.“What! been in after the fish?” he said with a chuckle. “I got mine, master, without being wet.”“We’ve had a narrow escape from drowning, Joses,” said the Doctor, hoarsely.“That’s bad, master, that’s bad,” cried Joses. “It all comes o’ my going away and leaving you and Master Bart, there; but I thought a few o’ these salmon chaps would be good eating, so I went and snared ’em out with a bit o’ wire and a pole.”“I shall soon be better, Joses,” replied the Doctor. “The accident would have happened all the same whether you had been there or no. Let us get back to the camp.”“Are we going to leave them beautiful fish the Beaver and old Speechworks here have caught and cooked?” asked Joses, regretfully.“No,” said the Doctor, sinking down upon a stone, “let us rest and eat them. We shall not hurt out here in this bright sunshine, Bart, and we’ll wring some of the water out of our clothes, and have less weight to carry.”This speech gave the greatest of satisfaction, for the party were ravenously hungry, and the halt was not long enough to do any one hurt, for the broiled salmon was rapidly eaten. Then they started, and after a rather toilsome climb, ascended once more to the level of the plain, and reaching the waggons learned that all was well, before proceeding to the Doctor’s quarters in his tent at the top of the mountain.
Bart laid down his rifle as he uttered this very feminine exclamation, and shading his eyes, gazed before him up the river.
For as he had been dreamily gazing before him at the shallow where the water ran over a bed of the purest sand for about a hundred yards, it seemed to him that he had seen a dark something roll over, and then for a moment a hand appeared above the water, or else it was the ragged leaf of some great water-plant washed out from its place of growth in the bank.
“It looks like—it must be—it is!” cried Bart. “Somebody has fallen in, and is drowning.”
As he thought this a chill feeling of horror seemed to rob him of the power of motion. And now, as he gazed at the glittering water with starting eyes, he knew that there was no mistake—it was no fancy, for their was a body being rolled over and over by the stream, now catching, now sweeping along swiftly, and nearer and nearer to where the lad crouched.
The water before him was shallow enough, and all clear sand, so without hesitation Bart lowered himself down from the rock, stepped on to the sand with the water now to his knees, and was then about to wade towards the body, when he turned sharply and clutched the rough surface of the rock, clinging tightly, and after a brief struggle managed to clamber back panting, and with the perspiration in great drops upon his brow.
He knew now what he had only partly realised before, and that was the fact that these beautiful, smooth sands, over which the swift current pleasantly glided, were quicksands of the most deadly kind, and that if he had not struggled back there would have been no chance of escape. Another step would have been fatal, and he must have gone down, for no swimming could avail in such a strait.
But Bart, in spite of the shock of his narrow escape, had not forgotten the object for which he had lowered himself from the rock, and gazing eagerly towards the shallows, he saw that it was just being swept off then into the deep water that rushed round the buttress upon which he stood.
It was the work of moments. Reaching out as far as he could, he just managed to grip the clinging garment of the object sweeping by, and as he grasped it tightly, so great was the power of the water, that he felt a sudden snatch that threatened to tear the prize from his hand. But Bart held on fiercely, and before he could fully comprehend his position he found that he had overbalanced himself, and the next moment he had gone under with a sullen plunge.
Bart was a good swimmer, and though encumbered with his clothes, he felt no fear of reaching the bank somewhere lower down; and, confident in this respect, he looked round as he rose to the surface for the body of him he had tried to save, for as he struck the water he had loosened his hold.
There was just a glimmer of something below the surface, and taking a couple of sturdy strokes, Bart reached it before it sank lower, caught hold, and then guiding his burden, struck out for the shore.
The rocks from which he had come were already a hundred yards above them, the stream sweeping them down with incredible swiftness, and Bart knew that it would be folly to do more than go with it, striving gently the while to guide his course towards some projecting rocks upon the bank. There was the possibility, too, of finding some eddy which might lead him shoreward; and after fighting hard to get a hold upon a piece of smooth stone that promised well, but from which he literally seemed to be plucked by the rushing water, Bart found himself in a deep, still pool, round which he was swept twice, and, to his horror, nearer each time towards the centre, where, with an agonising pang, he felt that he might be sucked down.
Dreading this, he made a desperate effort, and once more reached the very edge of the great, calm, swirling pool just as the bushes on the bank were parted with a loud rush, and the Beaver literally bounded into the water, to render such help that when, faint and exhausted, they all reached a shallow, rocky portion of the stream a quarter of a mile below where Bart had made his plunge, the chief was ready to lift out the object the lad had tried to save, and then hold out his hand and help the lad ashore.
The next minute they were striving all they knew to try and resuscitate him whom Bart had nearly lost his life in trying to save, the interpreter joining them to lend his help; and as they worked, trying the plan adopted by the Indians in such a case, the new-comer told Bart how the accident had occurred.
His words amounted to the statement that while the speaker and the chief had been collecting sticks for a fire to roast a salmon they had speared with a sharp, forked stick, they had seen the Doctor busily rinsing the sand in a shallow pool of the rocks, well out, where the stream ran fast. They had not anticipated danger, and were busy over their preparations, when looking up all at once, they found the Doctor was gone.
Even then they did not think there was anything wrong, believing that while they were busy their leader had gone to some other part among the rocks, till, happening to glance down the stream some minutes later, the Beaver’s quick eyes had caught sight of the bright tin bowl which the Doctor had been using to rinse the sand in his hunt for gold, floating on the surface a hundred yards below, and slowly sailing round and round in an eddy.
This started them in search of the drowning man, with the result that they reached Bart in time to save both.
For after a long and arduous task the Doctor began to show signs of returning life, and at last opened his eyes and stared about him like one who had just awakened from a dream.
“What—what has happened?” he asked. “Did—did I slip from the rocks, or have I been asleep?”
He shuddered, and struggled into a sitting position, then thoroughly comprehending after a few minutes what had passed:
“Who saved me?” he asked quickly.
The Beaver seemed to understand the drift of the question, for he pointed with a smile to Bart.
“You?” exclaimed the Doctor.
“Oh, I did nothing,” said Bart modestly. “I saw you floating down towards me, and tried to pull you on a rock; instead of doing which, you pulled me in, and we swam down together till I got near the shore, and then I could do no more. It was the Beaver there who saved us.”
The Doctor rose and grasped the chief’s hand, wringing it warmly.
“Where’s Joses?” he said sharply.
No one knew.
“Let us go back,” said the Doctor; “perhaps we shall meet him higher up;” and looking faint and utterly exhausted, he followed the two Indians as they chose the most easy part of the valley for walking, the Doctor’s words proving to be right, for they came upon Joses toiling down towards the passage leading to the plain with six heavy fish hanging from a tough wand thrust through their gills.
They reached the chimney, as Bart christened it, just about the same time as Joses, who stared as he caught sight of the saturated clothes.
“What! been in after the fish?” he said with a chuckle. “I got mine, master, without being wet.”
“We’ve had a narrow escape from drowning, Joses,” said the Doctor, hoarsely.
“That’s bad, master, that’s bad,” cried Joses. “It all comes o’ my going away and leaving you and Master Bart, there; but I thought a few o’ these salmon chaps would be good eating, so I went and snared ’em out with a bit o’ wire and a pole.”
“I shall soon be better, Joses,” replied the Doctor. “The accident would have happened all the same whether you had been there or no. Let us get back to the camp.”
“Are we going to leave them beautiful fish the Beaver and old Speechworks here have caught and cooked?” asked Joses, regretfully.
“No,” said the Doctor, sinking down upon a stone, “let us rest and eat them. We shall not hurt out here in this bright sunshine, Bart, and we’ll wring some of the water out of our clothes, and have less weight to carry.”
This speech gave the greatest of satisfaction, for the party were ravenously hungry, and the halt was not long enough to do any one hurt, for the broiled salmon was rapidly eaten. Then they started, and after a rather toilsome climb, ascended once more to the level of the plain, and reaching the waggons learned that all was well, before proceeding to the Doctor’s quarters in his tent at the top of the mountain.
Chapter Thirty.The Beaver sniffs Danger.“There’s something wrong, Master Bart,” said Joses that evening, as Bart, rejoicing in the luxury of well-dried clothes, sat enjoying the beauty of the setting sun, and thinking of the glories of the canyon, longing to go down again and spend a day spearing trout and salmon for the benefit of the camp.“Wrong, Joses!” cried Bart, leaping up. “What’s wrong?”“Dunno,” said Joses, gruffly, “and not knowing, can’t say.”“Have you seen anything, then?”“No.”“Have you heard of anything?”“No.”“Has anybody brought bad news?”“No.”“Then what is it?” cried Bart. “Why don’t you speak.”“’Cause I’ve nothing to say, only that I’m sure there’s something wrong.”“But why are you sure?”“Because the Beaver’s so busy.”“What is he doing?”“All sorts of things. He hasn’t said anything, but I can see by his way that he sniffs danger somewhere. He’s getting all the horses into the cavern stable, and making his men drive all the cattle into the corral, and that means there’s something wrong as sure as can be. Injun smells danger long before it comes. There’s no deceiving them.”“Let’s go and see him, Joses,” cried Bart; and, shouldering their rifles, they walked past the drawn-up rows of empty waggons, whose stores were all high up on the mountain.As they reached the entrance to the corral the Indians had driven in the last pair of oxen, while the horses and mules were already in their hiding-place.“Did the Doctor order this?” asked Bart.“Not he, sir: he’s busy up above looking at the silver they dug out while we were down in the canyon. It’s all the Beaver’s doing, Master Bart, and you may take it for granted there’s good cause for it all.”“Ah, Beaver,” said Bart, as the chief came out of the corral, “why is this?”“Indian dog. Apaché,” said the chief, pointing out towards the plain.Bart turned sharply round and gazed in the indicated direction, but he could see nothing, neither could Joses.The Beaver smiled with a look of superior wisdom.“The Beaver-with-Sharp-Teeth,” said the interpreter, coming up, “hears the Indian dog, the enemies of his race, on the wind; and he will not stampede the horses and cattle, but leave the bones of his young men upon the plain.”“But where are the Apachés?” cried Bart. “Oh, he means, Joses, that they are out upon the plain, and that it is wise to be ready for them.”“Yes; he means that they are out upon the plain, and that they are coming to-night, my lad,” said Joses. Then, turning to the chief, he patted the lock of his rifle meaningly, and the chief nodded, and said, “Yes.”“Come,” he said directly after, and he led the frontiersman and Bart to the entrance of the stable, where his followers were putting the last stones in position. Then he took them to the corral, which was also thoroughly well secured with huge stones; and the Indians now took up their rifles, and resuming their ordinary sombre manner, stood staring indifferently about them.Just then there was a loud hail, and turning quickly round, Bart saw the Doctor waving his hand to them to join him.“Indians are on the plains,” exclaimed the Doctor. “I saw them from the top of the castle,”—he had taken to calling the mountain rock “the castle,”—“with the glass. They are many miles away, but they may be enemies, and we must be prepared. Get the horses secured, Joses; and you, interpreter, ask the Beaver to see to the cattle.”“All safely shut in, sir,” said Bart, showing his teeth; “the Beaver felt that there was danger an hour ago, and everything has been done.”“Capital!” cried the Doctor; “but how could he tell?”“That’s the mystery,” replied Bart, “but he said there were Indian dogs away yonder on the plains.”“Indian dog, Apaché,” said the Beaver, scowling, and pointing towards the plain.“Yes, that’s where they are,” said the Doctor, nodding; “he is quite right, and this being so, we must get up into our castle and man the walls. Let me see first if all is safe.”He walked to both entrances, and satisfied himself, saying:“Yes; they could not be better, but, of course, all depends upon our covering them from above with our rifles, for the Apachés could pull those rocks down as easily as we put them there. Now then, let us go up; the waggons are fortunately empty enough.”The Doctor led the way, pausing, however, to mount a waggon and take a good look-out into the plain, which he swept with his glass, but only to close it with a look of surprise.“I can see nothing from here,” he said, “but we may as well be safe;” and entering the slit in the rock they called the gateway, he drew aside for the last few “greasers,” who had been tending the cattle, to mount before him; then Joses, Bart, the Beaver, and his followers came in. The strong stones kept for the purpose were hauled into place, and the entry thoroughly blocked, after which the various points of defence were manned, the Doctor, with several of the Englishmen, taking the passage and the gate, while the Beaver, with Joses, Bart and the Indians, were sent to man the ramparts, as the Doctor laughingly called them; that is to say, the ingeniously contrived gallery that overlooked the stable cavern and the great corral.“You must not spare your powder if the cattle are in danger,” said the Doctor for his last orders. “I don’t want to shed blood, but these savages must have another severe lesson if they mean to annoy us. All I ask is to be let alone.”Bart led the way, and soon after was ensconced in his rifle-pit, with Joses on one side and the Beaver on the other, the rest of the party being carefully arranged. Then the Doctor spread the alarm up above, and the men armed and manned the zigzag way, but all out of sight; and at last, just as it was growing dark, the great plain fortress looked as silent as if there was not a man anywhere upon its heights, and yet in their various hiding-places there were scores, each with his deadly rifle ready to send a return bullet for every one fired by an enemy.“No firing unless absolutely necessary,” was the Doctor’s whispered order; and then all was silent while they waited to see if any enemy would really come.They were not long kept in doubt, for just as the heavens had assumed that peculiar rich grey tint that precedes darkness, and a soft white mist was rising from the depths of the canyon, there was seen, as if arising from out of the plain itself, a dark body moving rapidly, and this soon developed itself into a strong band of Indians, all well-mounted in their half-naked war costume, their heads decked with feathers, and each armed with rifle and spear.They were in their war-paint, but still they might be disposed to be friendly; and the Doctor was willing to believe it till he saw through his glass that they wore the skull and cross-bones painted in white upon their broad, brown chests, and he knew that they were of the same tribe as had visited them before, and gone off after so severe a lesson.Still he hoped that they might be friendly, and he was determined that they should not be fired upon without good reason.A few minutes later he changed his opinion, for, evidently well-drilled by their chief, the Indians charged towards where the tilted waggons were drawn up in the shade of the rock, riding with as much precision as a well-drilled body of cavalry. Then, at a sign, they drew rein in a couple of ranks, about fifty yards from the waggons, and presenting their rifles, without word of warning, fired a volley.Another volley followed, and another, the thick smoke rising on the evening air, and then, apparently surprised at there being no replying shot, about twenty galloped up with lowered spears, thrust two or three times through the canvas tilts, and galloped back, the whole band sweeping off the next moment as swiftly and as silently as they came, gradually becoming fainter and more shadowy, and then quite disappearing from the watchers’ sight.“They’re gone, then?” whispered Bart, drawing a breath of relief.“Yes; they’re a bit scared by the silence,” said Joses; “but they’ll come back again.”“When?” said Bart.“Sneaking about in the dark, to stampede the horses and cattle, as soon as ever they know where they are, my boy.”“Yes—come back,” said the Beaver in a low tone, and he whispered then to the interpreter.“Apaché dogs will come back in the night when the moon is up,” said the interpreter. “They will steal up to the camp like wolves, and die like dogs and wolves, for they shall not have the horses and oxen.”And just then the Beaver, who seemed to comprehend his follower’s English, said softly:“It is good.”
“There’s something wrong, Master Bart,” said Joses that evening, as Bart, rejoicing in the luxury of well-dried clothes, sat enjoying the beauty of the setting sun, and thinking of the glories of the canyon, longing to go down again and spend a day spearing trout and salmon for the benefit of the camp.
“Wrong, Joses!” cried Bart, leaping up. “What’s wrong?”
“Dunno,” said Joses, gruffly, “and not knowing, can’t say.”
“Have you seen anything, then?”
“No.”
“Have you heard of anything?”
“No.”
“Has anybody brought bad news?”
“No.”
“Then what is it?” cried Bart. “Why don’t you speak.”
“’Cause I’ve nothing to say, only that I’m sure there’s something wrong.”
“But why are you sure?”
“Because the Beaver’s so busy.”
“What is he doing?”
“All sorts of things. He hasn’t said anything, but I can see by his way that he sniffs danger somewhere. He’s getting all the horses into the cavern stable, and making his men drive all the cattle into the corral, and that means there’s something wrong as sure as can be. Injun smells danger long before it comes. There’s no deceiving them.”
“Let’s go and see him, Joses,” cried Bart; and, shouldering their rifles, they walked past the drawn-up rows of empty waggons, whose stores were all high up on the mountain.
As they reached the entrance to the corral the Indians had driven in the last pair of oxen, while the horses and mules were already in their hiding-place.
“Did the Doctor order this?” asked Bart.
“Not he, sir: he’s busy up above looking at the silver they dug out while we were down in the canyon. It’s all the Beaver’s doing, Master Bart, and you may take it for granted there’s good cause for it all.”
“Ah, Beaver,” said Bart, as the chief came out of the corral, “why is this?”
“Indian dog. Apaché,” said the chief, pointing out towards the plain.
Bart turned sharply round and gazed in the indicated direction, but he could see nothing, neither could Joses.
The Beaver smiled with a look of superior wisdom.
“The Beaver-with-Sharp-Teeth,” said the interpreter, coming up, “hears the Indian dog, the enemies of his race, on the wind; and he will not stampede the horses and cattle, but leave the bones of his young men upon the plain.”
“But where are the Apachés?” cried Bart. “Oh, he means, Joses, that they are out upon the plain, and that it is wise to be ready for them.”
“Yes; he means that they are out upon the plain, and that they are coming to-night, my lad,” said Joses. Then, turning to the chief, he patted the lock of his rifle meaningly, and the chief nodded, and said, “Yes.”
“Come,” he said directly after, and he led the frontiersman and Bart to the entrance of the stable, where his followers were putting the last stones in position. Then he took them to the corral, which was also thoroughly well secured with huge stones; and the Indians now took up their rifles, and resuming their ordinary sombre manner, stood staring indifferently about them.
Just then there was a loud hail, and turning quickly round, Bart saw the Doctor waving his hand to them to join him.
“Indians are on the plains,” exclaimed the Doctor. “I saw them from the top of the castle,”—he had taken to calling the mountain rock “the castle,”—“with the glass. They are many miles away, but they may be enemies, and we must be prepared. Get the horses secured, Joses; and you, interpreter, ask the Beaver to see to the cattle.”
“All safely shut in, sir,” said Bart, showing his teeth; “the Beaver felt that there was danger an hour ago, and everything has been done.”
“Capital!” cried the Doctor; “but how could he tell?”
“That’s the mystery,” replied Bart, “but he said there were Indian dogs away yonder on the plains.”
“Indian dog, Apaché,” said the Beaver, scowling, and pointing towards the plain.
“Yes, that’s where they are,” said the Doctor, nodding; “he is quite right, and this being so, we must get up into our castle and man the walls. Let me see first if all is safe.”
He walked to both entrances, and satisfied himself, saying:
“Yes; they could not be better, but, of course, all depends upon our covering them from above with our rifles, for the Apachés could pull those rocks down as easily as we put them there. Now then, let us go up; the waggons are fortunately empty enough.”
The Doctor led the way, pausing, however, to mount a waggon and take a good look-out into the plain, which he swept with his glass, but only to close it with a look of surprise.
“I can see nothing from here,” he said, “but we may as well be safe;” and entering the slit in the rock they called the gateway, he drew aside for the last few “greasers,” who had been tending the cattle, to mount before him; then Joses, Bart, the Beaver, and his followers came in. The strong stones kept for the purpose were hauled into place, and the entry thoroughly blocked, after which the various points of defence were manned, the Doctor, with several of the Englishmen, taking the passage and the gate, while the Beaver, with Joses, Bart and the Indians, were sent to man the ramparts, as the Doctor laughingly called them; that is to say, the ingeniously contrived gallery that overlooked the stable cavern and the great corral.
“You must not spare your powder if the cattle are in danger,” said the Doctor for his last orders. “I don’t want to shed blood, but these savages must have another severe lesson if they mean to annoy us. All I ask is to be let alone.”
Bart led the way, and soon after was ensconced in his rifle-pit, with Joses on one side and the Beaver on the other, the rest of the party being carefully arranged. Then the Doctor spread the alarm up above, and the men armed and manned the zigzag way, but all out of sight; and at last, just as it was growing dark, the great plain fortress looked as silent as if there was not a man anywhere upon its heights, and yet in their various hiding-places there were scores, each with his deadly rifle ready to send a return bullet for every one fired by an enemy.
“No firing unless absolutely necessary,” was the Doctor’s whispered order; and then all was silent while they waited to see if any enemy would really come.
They were not long kept in doubt, for just as the heavens had assumed that peculiar rich grey tint that precedes darkness, and a soft white mist was rising from the depths of the canyon, there was seen, as if arising from out of the plain itself, a dark body moving rapidly, and this soon developed itself into a strong band of Indians, all well-mounted in their half-naked war costume, their heads decked with feathers, and each armed with rifle and spear.
They were in their war-paint, but still they might be disposed to be friendly; and the Doctor was willing to believe it till he saw through his glass that they wore the skull and cross-bones painted in white upon their broad, brown chests, and he knew that they were of the same tribe as had visited them before, and gone off after so severe a lesson.
Still he hoped that they might be friendly, and he was determined that they should not be fired upon without good reason.
A few minutes later he changed his opinion, for, evidently well-drilled by their chief, the Indians charged towards where the tilted waggons were drawn up in the shade of the rock, riding with as much precision as a well-drilled body of cavalry. Then, at a sign, they drew rein in a couple of ranks, about fifty yards from the waggons, and presenting their rifles, without word of warning, fired a volley.
Another volley followed, and another, the thick smoke rising on the evening air, and then, apparently surprised at there being no replying shot, about twenty galloped up with lowered spears, thrust two or three times through the canvas tilts, and galloped back, the whole band sweeping off the next moment as swiftly and as silently as they came, gradually becoming fainter and more shadowy, and then quite disappearing from the watchers’ sight.
“They’re gone, then?” whispered Bart, drawing a breath of relief.
“Yes; they’re a bit scared by the silence,” said Joses; “but they’ll come back again.”
“When?” said Bart.
“Sneaking about in the dark, to stampede the horses and cattle, as soon as ever they know where they are, my boy.”
“Yes—come back,” said the Beaver in a low tone, and he whispered then to the interpreter.
“Apaché dogs will come back in the night when the moon is up,” said the interpreter. “They will steal up to the camp like wolves, and die like dogs and wolves, for they shall not have the horses and oxen.”
And just then the Beaver, who seemed to comprehend his follower’s English, said softly:
“It is good.”
Chapter Thirty One.In the Watches of the Night.The hours went by, but no sound or sign came from the plain; the stars started out bright and clear, and in the east there was a faint, lambent light that told of the coming of the moon ere long, but still all seemed silent in the desert.The Englishmen of the party seemed to grow weary, and began talking so loudly that the Doctor sent sternly-worded messages to them to be silent; and once more all was still, save when some one fidgeted about to change his position.“Why can’t they keep still?” growled Joses, softly, as he lay perfectly motionless, listening to every sound. “They don’t understand how a man’s life—ah, all our lives—may depend on their being still. Look at them Injuns. They never move.”Joses was quite right. Each Indian had taken his place where appointed, and had not moved since, saving to settle down into a part of the rock. The swarthy, muscular fellows might have been part of the stone for any sign they gave of life.At last the moon rose slowly above the edge of the vast plain, sending a flood of light to bring into prominence every bush and tree, striking on the face of the mountain, and casting its shadow right away over the plain. From where Bart crouched he could not see the moon, for he and his companions were behind rocks, but there was the heavy shadow of the mountain stretching to an enormous distance; and as he watched it, and saw how boldly it was cut, and how striking was the difference between the illumined portions of the plain and those where the shadow fell, he could not help thinking how easily the Indians might creep right up to them and make a bold assault, and this idea he whispered to Joses.“’Taint much in their way, my lad,” he whispered. “Injun don’t care about night-fighting, it’s too risky for them. They don’t mind a sneak up—just a few of them to scare the horses and cattle and make ’em stampede, and they don’t mind doing a bit o’ spy of the enemy’s camp in the dark; but it isn’t often they’ll fight at night.”“But you expect them to come, don’t you?”“I don’t,” said Joses; “but the Beaver does, and I give in. He knows best about it, having been so much more among the Injun than I have, and being Injun himself. I daresay they will come, but they won’t stampede our horses, I’m thinking, and they won’t get the cattle. They may get to know where the ways are into the corral and the horse ’closure, and perhaps find out the path up to the castle, as the master calls it.”“But they couldn’t unless they came close up, Joses.”“Well, what’s to hinder ’em from coming close up? They’ll crawl through the grass, and from stone to stone in the dark there, and who’s to see ’em? My eyes are sharp enough, but I don’t know as I should see them coming. Let’s ask the Beaver what he says.”“The Beaver-with-Sharp-Teeth has heard all you said,” whispered the interpreter, “and he says that the Apachés will come before long to find the way into the camp, and then they will go away again if they do not die.”A curious silence seemed to fall after this, and Bart felt, as he crouched there watching the plains, that something very terrible was going to happen ere long. At another time he would have been drowsy, but now sleep was the last thing of which he thought, all his nerves being overwrought; and as his eyes swept the wide flat plain, he kept on fancying that sooner or later he would see the Apachés coming up to them with the slow, silent approach of so many shadows.And now it suddenly struck Bart that the shadow of the mountain was shorter than when the moon first rose, and that its edges were more boldly defined, and by this he knew, of course, that the moon was getting higher. At the same time though, soft fleecy clouds began to hide the stars, and at times the shadow of the mountain was blotted out, for the moon was from time to time obscured, and the peculiar indistinctness of the earth seemed to Bart as exactly suited for an enemy’s approach.A slight movement at his side told him that this was the Indians’ idea as well, and that to a man they were eagerly scanning the plain and the rugged patches of rock beneath.Every here and there the fallen masses were piled-up into buttresses, and it was amongst these that, after failing to keep his attention upon the misty plain, Bart let his gaze wander till at last he became convinced that he could see some dark patch in slow motion, and it was long enough before he could satisfy himself that it was only a stone.He was deceived in this way so often—the various little prominences below him seeming to waver and move, and assume form in accordance with his ideas—that he grew tired of watching, feeling sure at last that there would be nothing to trouble them that night, when suddenly a soft firm hand glided gently and silently as a snake to his wrist, took firm hold of it and pressed it, before rising and pointing down below them into the plain.Bart followed the direction of the pointing hand, but he could see nothing, and he was about to say so, when gradually sweeping past, a few light clouds must have left the moon partially clear, and with the sudden access of light, Bart could make out two somethings close beside the piled-up rocks, and for some moments he could not be sure that they were men prostrated on their chests crawling towards the entrance to the cattle corral, for they seemed to assimilate with the colour of the earth; and though he strained his eyes, not a trace of motion could he detect.By degrees though it seemed to him that one of the figures was a man, the other some shaggy kind of crouching beast, till his eyes grew more educated, and he decided that one was an Indian naked to the waist, while the other was wearing his buffalo robe as an additional means of protection.Bart watched them attentively, and still the figures did not move. At last, however, he saw that they had changed their position, creeping closer to the piled-up rocks, and at last, evidently encouraged by the fact that when the firing took place that evening there was no response, the two savages suddenly rose erect, and went to the piled-up stones that blocked the corral entry.“How did they know the cattle were there?” said Bart, putting his lips close by Joses’ ear.“Nose!” whispered back the frontiersman, laconically.“But how could they tell that this was the entrance?” whispered Bart again.“Eyes!” replied Joses; and he then laid his hand upon Bart’s lips, as a sign that he must refrain from speaking any more.Bart rather chafed at this, and he was growing excited as well, for it troubled him that Joses and the Beaver should have let these two spies go right up to such a treasure as the cattle corral unchallenged; and though he would not have thought of firing at the savages, he could not help thinking that something ought to be done—what he could not say—for the low grating noise he now heard was certainly the Indians moving one of the blocks of stone that had so carefully been placed there that afternoon.“They’re opening the corral, my lad,” said Joses just then, in a hoarse whisper; “and if we don’t stop ’em we shall be having ’em drive the whole lot of bullocks and cows right away into the plains, and never see a hoof again.”“What’s to be done, then?” whispered Bart, whose face was covered with a cold dew, while his cheeks were at fever heat.“Well, my lad, they seem to have found out the way easy enough by crawling over the cattle trail, and it’s a very unpleasant thing to do, but I suppose we shall either have to be robbed, or else we must stop ’em; so as the Doctor won’t like all our cattle to go, I’m going to stop ’em.”“It’s very horrible,” whispered Bart.“Horrid, my lad; so’s having your cattle and horses stole, for if they get one they’re bound to have t’other; so is being starved to death; and the worsest of all is being scalped, and that’s sure to come if we let them brutes go.”“But it is so horrible to shoot them, Joses,” panted Bart.“’Tis, my lad, so don’t you do it. Leave it to us. Hah! that’s a big stone down, and the cattle’s beginning to fidget. Now, Beaver, what do you say?”The Beaver answered with his rifle, which gave a sharp report, just as the moon shone out a little more clearly.“Hit!” said Joses, laconically, as they saw quite plainly the two Indians start back from the rocks right out into the clear moonlight, one of them uttering a fierce, hoarse yell, and staggering as if about to fall, when the other sprang forward and caught him by the chest, holding him up, and, as it was plain to see, forming of the body of his wounded companion a shield to protect himself from the bullets of their unseen assailants.“They must not go away and tell tales,” muttered Joses, as he took aim; but just then the interpreter’s rifle rang out, and the half-nude Indian turned partly round, so that they could see in white paint upon his breast, seeming to gleam horribly in the moonlight, the ghastly skull and cross-bones that seemed to have been adopted as the badge of the tribe. Then he fell back into the arms of his friend, who clasped his arms round him, and backed slowly, keeping the wounded man’s face to the firing party, while, as if mechanically, the injured savage kept step.Crackwent the Beaver’s rifle again, and there was a dull thud telling of a hit, but still the two Indians retreated slowly.Crack! went Joses’ rifle, and he uttered a low growl.“I’ll swear I hit him, but I dunno whether it touched the t’other one—a cowardly skunk, to sneak behind his fellow like that.”Crack—crack—crack—crack! four rifles uttered their reports, which seemed to reverberate from the face of the mountain; and as the smoke rose slowly, and Bart could gaze at the moonlit plain, and try to read the meaning of the fierce yell of defiance that he had heard arise, he saw that the first Indian lay upon his back with the moon shining upon his ghastly, painted breast, while his companion was rapidly disappearing as he ran swiftly over the plain.The Beaver’s rifle rang out again, and he started up into a kneeling position, gazing after the object at which he had fired, while his fingers mechanically reloaded his piece. Then he uttered a low guttural cry of anger, and sank down into his former position.“Missed him, Beaver,” said Joses, quietly.“No,” was the sharp retort. “He was hit, but he will escape to his dogs of people.”This was a tremendous speech for the chief, who, however, seemed to be acquiring the English tongue with remarkable rapidity, the fact being that he had long known a great deal of English, but had been too proud to make use of it till he could speak sufficiently well to make himself understood with ease, and therefore he had brought up the interpreter as a medium between him and his English friends.They watched through the rest of the night, after communicating to the Doctor the reason for the firing, but there was no fresh alarm. The moon rose higher, and shed a clear effulgence that seemed to make the plain as light as day, while the shadow of the mountain appeared to become black, and the ravines and cracks in its sides to be so many dense marks cut in solid silver.Daylight at last, with the silvery moon growing pale and the stars fading out. First a heavy grey, then a silvery light, then soft, roseate tints, followed by orange flecks far up in the east, and then one glorious, golden blaze to herald the sun, as the great orb slowly seemed to roll up over the edge of the plain, and bring with it life, and light, and hope.“Hurrah!” shouted Bart, as he rose from his cramped position in the rifle-pit. “Oh, Joses! my back! my legs! Ah, ah! Oh my! Do rub me! I’m so stiff I can hardly move.”“That’ll soon go off, my lad. There, I suppose most of us may go off duty now, for I can’t see any Injun out on the plains.”“Yes: hundreds!” said the Beaver, who had been shading his eyes and gazing attentively over the sunlit expanse of rocky landscape dotted with trees.“Where, Beaver?” said Joses.For answer the chief pointed right away, and both Joses and Bart tried to make out what he meant, but in vain.“Your eyes are younger than mine, Bart,” said Joses at last, gruffly. “I can’t see nothing—can you?”“No, Joses,” replied Bart. “I can see nothing but trees.”The Beaver smiled.“Ah, it’s all very well for you to laugh,” said Joses, bluntly, “but you’ve got eyes that see round corners of hills, and through clumps of wood and bits of mountain. I never saw such eyes in my life.”“My eyes will do,” said the Beaver, quietly. “The Apachés are over yonder. They will be on the watch to carry off the cattle or to kill us if they can.”“Yes, that’s it,” said Joses; “if they can.”Without another word, the Beaver and half-a-dozen of his followers went down the slope, and climbed the stone gateway, to leap into the plain, where, without a word of instruction, they bore off the body of the fallen Indian, and buried it down in the rift where the other two had been laid, after which they returned to partake of the morning meal that had been prepared—fires being lit in various crevices and chasms off the zigzag way; and this meal being partaken of in the bright morning sunshine, seemed to make the dangers of the night appear trifling, and the spirits of the people rose.In fact, there was no time for despondency. Every man knew when he came out to adventure for silver that he would have to run the risk of encounters with the Indians, and nothing could be more satisfactory than their position. For they had a stronghold where they could set half the Indian nations at defiance, while the savages could not hinder their mining operations, which could be continued on the mountain if they were invested, and at the edge of the canyon or down below, where there was nothing to fear.The greatest danger was with respect to the cattle, which had to be drawn out to pasture along near the side of the lake, and this was done at once, every available man mounting his horse and forming guard, so as to protect the cattle and pasture his horse at the same time.This was carried on for some days, and a careful watch was kept out towards the plain; but though bodies of Indians were seen manoeuvring in the distance, none approached the mountain, whose flag waved out defiance; and as night after night passed without alarm, there were some of the party sanguine enough to say that the Indians had had their lesson and would come no more.“What do you say to that, Beaver?” said Joses, laying his hand upon the chiefs shoulder, and looking him in the face.“Indian dog of Apaché never forgives,” he replied quietly. “They may come to-day—to-morrow—next moon. Who can tell when the Apaché will come and strike? But he will come.”“There, Master Bart, hear that!” said Joses. “How about going down into the canyon to spear salmon now?”“The young chief, Bart, can go and spear salmon in the river,” said the Beaver, whose face lit up at the prospect of engaging in something more exciting than watching cattle and taking care that they did not stray too far. “The Beaver and his young men will take care the Apachés do not come without warning.”
The hours went by, but no sound or sign came from the plain; the stars started out bright and clear, and in the east there was a faint, lambent light that told of the coming of the moon ere long, but still all seemed silent in the desert.
The Englishmen of the party seemed to grow weary, and began talking so loudly that the Doctor sent sternly-worded messages to them to be silent; and once more all was still, save when some one fidgeted about to change his position.
“Why can’t they keep still?” growled Joses, softly, as he lay perfectly motionless, listening to every sound. “They don’t understand how a man’s life—ah, all our lives—may depend on their being still. Look at them Injuns. They never move.”
Joses was quite right. Each Indian had taken his place where appointed, and had not moved since, saving to settle down into a part of the rock. The swarthy, muscular fellows might have been part of the stone for any sign they gave of life.
At last the moon rose slowly above the edge of the vast plain, sending a flood of light to bring into prominence every bush and tree, striking on the face of the mountain, and casting its shadow right away over the plain. From where Bart crouched he could not see the moon, for he and his companions were behind rocks, but there was the heavy shadow of the mountain stretching to an enormous distance; and as he watched it, and saw how boldly it was cut, and how striking was the difference between the illumined portions of the plain and those where the shadow fell, he could not help thinking how easily the Indians might creep right up to them and make a bold assault, and this idea he whispered to Joses.
“’Taint much in their way, my lad,” he whispered. “Injun don’t care about night-fighting, it’s too risky for them. They don’t mind a sneak up—just a few of them to scare the horses and cattle and make ’em stampede, and they don’t mind doing a bit o’ spy of the enemy’s camp in the dark; but it isn’t often they’ll fight at night.”
“But you expect them to come, don’t you?”
“I don’t,” said Joses; “but the Beaver does, and I give in. He knows best about it, having been so much more among the Injun than I have, and being Injun himself. I daresay they will come, but they won’t stampede our horses, I’m thinking, and they won’t get the cattle. They may get to know where the ways are into the corral and the horse ’closure, and perhaps find out the path up to the castle, as the master calls it.”
“But they couldn’t unless they came close up, Joses.”
“Well, what’s to hinder ’em from coming close up? They’ll crawl through the grass, and from stone to stone in the dark there, and who’s to see ’em? My eyes are sharp enough, but I don’t know as I should see them coming. Let’s ask the Beaver what he says.”
“The Beaver-with-Sharp-Teeth has heard all you said,” whispered the interpreter, “and he says that the Apachés will come before long to find the way into the camp, and then they will go away again if they do not die.”
A curious silence seemed to fall after this, and Bart felt, as he crouched there watching the plains, that something very terrible was going to happen ere long. At another time he would have been drowsy, but now sleep was the last thing of which he thought, all his nerves being overwrought; and as his eyes swept the wide flat plain, he kept on fancying that sooner or later he would see the Apachés coming up to them with the slow, silent approach of so many shadows.
And now it suddenly struck Bart that the shadow of the mountain was shorter than when the moon first rose, and that its edges were more boldly defined, and by this he knew, of course, that the moon was getting higher. At the same time though, soft fleecy clouds began to hide the stars, and at times the shadow of the mountain was blotted out, for the moon was from time to time obscured, and the peculiar indistinctness of the earth seemed to Bart as exactly suited for an enemy’s approach.
A slight movement at his side told him that this was the Indians’ idea as well, and that to a man they were eagerly scanning the plain and the rugged patches of rock beneath.
Every here and there the fallen masses were piled-up into buttresses, and it was amongst these that, after failing to keep his attention upon the misty plain, Bart let his gaze wander till at last he became convinced that he could see some dark patch in slow motion, and it was long enough before he could satisfy himself that it was only a stone.
He was deceived in this way so often—the various little prominences below him seeming to waver and move, and assume form in accordance with his ideas—that he grew tired of watching, feeling sure at last that there would be nothing to trouble them that night, when suddenly a soft firm hand glided gently and silently as a snake to his wrist, took firm hold of it and pressed it, before rising and pointing down below them into the plain.
Bart followed the direction of the pointing hand, but he could see nothing, and he was about to say so, when gradually sweeping past, a few light clouds must have left the moon partially clear, and with the sudden access of light, Bart could make out two somethings close beside the piled-up rocks, and for some moments he could not be sure that they were men prostrated on their chests crawling towards the entrance to the cattle corral, for they seemed to assimilate with the colour of the earth; and though he strained his eyes, not a trace of motion could he detect.
By degrees though it seemed to him that one of the figures was a man, the other some shaggy kind of crouching beast, till his eyes grew more educated, and he decided that one was an Indian naked to the waist, while the other was wearing his buffalo robe as an additional means of protection.
Bart watched them attentively, and still the figures did not move. At last, however, he saw that they had changed their position, creeping closer to the piled-up rocks, and at last, evidently encouraged by the fact that when the firing took place that evening there was no response, the two savages suddenly rose erect, and went to the piled-up stones that blocked the corral entry.
“How did they know the cattle were there?” said Bart, putting his lips close by Joses’ ear.
“Nose!” whispered back the frontiersman, laconically.
“But how could they tell that this was the entrance?” whispered Bart again.
“Eyes!” replied Joses; and he then laid his hand upon Bart’s lips, as a sign that he must refrain from speaking any more.
Bart rather chafed at this, and he was growing excited as well, for it troubled him that Joses and the Beaver should have let these two spies go right up to such a treasure as the cattle corral unchallenged; and though he would not have thought of firing at the savages, he could not help thinking that something ought to be done—what he could not say—for the low grating noise he now heard was certainly the Indians moving one of the blocks of stone that had so carefully been placed there that afternoon.
“They’re opening the corral, my lad,” said Joses just then, in a hoarse whisper; “and if we don’t stop ’em we shall be having ’em drive the whole lot of bullocks and cows right away into the plains, and never see a hoof again.”
“What’s to be done, then?” whispered Bart, whose face was covered with a cold dew, while his cheeks were at fever heat.
“Well, my lad, they seem to have found out the way easy enough by crawling over the cattle trail, and it’s a very unpleasant thing to do, but I suppose we shall either have to be robbed, or else we must stop ’em; so as the Doctor won’t like all our cattle to go, I’m going to stop ’em.”
“It’s very horrible,” whispered Bart.
“Horrid, my lad; so’s having your cattle and horses stole, for if they get one they’re bound to have t’other; so is being starved to death; and the worsest of all is being scalped, and that’s sure to come if we let them brutes go.”
“But it is so horrible to shoot them, Joses,” panted Bart.
“’Tis, my lad, so don’t you do it. Leave it to us. Hah! that’s a big stone down, and the cattle’s beginning to fidget. Now, Beaver, what do you say?”
The Beaver answered with his rifle, which gave a sharp report, just as the moon shone out a little more clearly.
“Hit!” said Joses, laconically, as they saw quite plainly the two Indians start back from the rocks right out into the clear moonlight, one of them uttering a fierce, hoarse yell, and staggering as if about to fall, when the other sprang forward and caught him by the chest, holding him up, and, as it was plain to see, forming of the body of his wounded companion a shield to protect himself from the bullets of their unseen assailants.
“They must not go away and tell tales,” muttered Joses, as he took aim; but just then the interpreter’s rifle rang out, and the half-nude Indian turned partly round, so that they could see in white paint upon his breast, seeming to gleam horribly in the moonlight, the ghastly skull and cross-bones that seemed to have been adopted as the badge of the tribe. Then he fell back into the arms of his friend, who clasped his arms round him, and backed slowly, keeping the wounded man’s face to the firing party, while, as if mechanically, the injured savage kept step.
Crackwent the Beaver’s rifle again, and there was a dull thud telling of a hit, but still the two Indians retreated slowly.
Crack! went Joses’ rifle, and he uttered a low growl.
“I’ll swear I hit him, but I dunno whether it touched the t’other one—a cowardly skunk, to sneak behind his fellow like that.”
Crack—crack—crack—crack! four rifles uttered their reports, which seemed to reverberate from the face of the mountain; and as the smoke rose slowly, and Bart could gaze at the moonlit plain, and try to read the meaning of the fierce yell of defiance that he had heard arise, he saw that the first Indian lay upon his back with the moon shining upon his ghastly, painted breast, while his companion was rapidly disappearing as he ran swiftly over the plain.
The Beaver’s rifle rang out again, and he started up into a kneeling position, gazing after the object at which he had fired, while his fingers mechanically reloaded his piece. Then he uttered a low guttural cry of anger, and sank down into his former position.
“Missed him, Beaver,” said Joses, quietly.
“No,” was the sharp retort. “He was hit, but he will escape to his dogs of people.”
This was a tremendous speech for the chief, who, however, seemed to be acquiring the English tongue with remarkable rapidity, the fact being that he had long known a great deal of English, but had been too proud to make use of it till he could speak sufficiently well to make himself understood with ease, and therefore he had brought up the interpreter as a medium between him and his English friends.
They watched through the rest of the night, after communicating to the Doctor the reason for the firing, but there was no fresh alarm. The moon rose higher, and shed a clear effulgence that seemed to make the plain as light as day, while the shadow of the mountain appeared to become black, and the ravines and cracks in its sides to be so many dense marks cut in solid silver.
Daylight at last, with the silvery moon growing pale and the stars fading out. First a heavy grey, then a silvery light, then soft, roseate tints, followed by orange flecks far up in the east, and then one glorious, golden blaze to herald the sun, as the great orb slowly seemed to roll up over the edge of the plain, and bring with it life, and light, and hope.
“Hurrah!” shouted Bart, as he rose from his cramped position in the rifle-pit. “Oh, Joses! my back! my legs! Ah, ah! Oh my! Do rub me! I’m so stiff I can hardly move.”
“That’ll soon go off, my lad. There, I suppose most of us may go off duty now, for I can’t see any Injun out on the plains.”
“Yes: hundreds!” said the Beaver, who had been shading his eyes and gazing attentively over the sunlit expanse of rocky landscape dotted with trees.
“Where, Beaver?” said Joses.
For answer the chief pointed right away, and both Joses and Bart tried to make out what he meant, but in vain.
“Your eyes are younger than mine, Bart,” said Joses at last, gruffly. “I can’t see nothing—can you?”
“No, Joses,” replied Bart. “I can see nothing but trees.”
The Beaver smiled.
“Ah, it’s all very well for you to laugh,” said Joses, bluntly, “but you’ve got eyes that see round corners of hills, and through clumps of wood and bits of mountain. I never saw such eyes in my life.”
“My eyes will do,” said the Beaver, quietly. “The Apachés are over yonder. They will be on the watch to carry off the cattle or to kill us if they can.”
“Yes, that’s it,” said Joses; “if they can.”
Without another word, the Beaver and half-a-dozen of his followers went down the slope, and climbed the stone gateway, to leap into the plain, where, without a word of instruction, they bore off the body of the fallen Indian, and buried it down in the rift where the other two had been laid, after which they returned to partake of the morning meal that had been prepared—fires being lit in various crevices and chasms off the zigzag way; and this meal being partaken of in the bright morning sunshine, seemed to make the dangers of the night appear trifling, and the spirits of the people rose.
In fact, there was no time for despondency. Every man knew when he came out to adventure for silver that he would have to run the risk of encounters with the Indians, and nothing could be more satisfactory than their position. For they had a stronghold where they could set half the Indian nations at defiance, while the savages could not hinder their mining operations, which could be continued on the mountain if they were invested, and at the edge of the canyon or down below, where there was nothing to fear.
The greatest danger was with respect to the cattle, which had to be drawn out to pasture along near the side of the lake, and this was done at once, every available man mounting his horse and forming guard, so as to protect the cattle and pasture his horse at the same time.
This was carried on for some days, and a careful watch was kept out towards the plain; but though bodies of Indians were seen manoeuvring in the distance, none approached the mountain, whose flag waved out defiance; and as night after night passed without alarm, there were some of the party sanguine enough to say that the Indians had had their lesson and would come no more.
“What do you say to that, Beaver?” said Joses, laying his hand upon the chiefs shoulder, and looking him in the face.
“Indian dog of Apaché never forgives,” he replied quietly. “They may come to-day—to-morrow—next moon. Who can tell when the Apaché will come and strike? But he will come.”
“There, Master Bart, hear that!” said Joses. “How about going down into the canyon to spear salmon now?”
“The young chief, Bart, can go and spear salmon in the river,” said the Beaver, whose face lit up at the prospect of engaging in something more exciting than watching cattle and taking care that they did not stray too far. “The Beaver and his young men will take care the Apachés do not come without warning.”
Chapter Thirty Two.Spearing Salmon under Difficulties.The undertaking of the chief was considered sufficient, and as a change of food would be very acceptable to the little mining colony, the Doctor made no difficulty about the matter, so the Beaver sent out scouts into the plain to give the earliest notice of the appearance of danger, and to supplement this, the Doctor posted Harry, their English follower, in the best position on the mountain, with the powerful glass, so that he might well sweep the plain, and give an earlier notice of the enemy’s coming than even the Indians could supply.The Beaver looked very hard at the telescope, and said that it was very great medicine, evidently feeling for it a high degree of respect. Then certain other arrangements having been made, including the choice of half-a-dozen of the Mexican greasers to carry the salmon that Bart said laughingly they had not yet caught, the fishing party, which included Bart, Joses, the Beaver, the interpreter, and six more Indians, all started for the patch of forest.They were all well-armed, and, in addition to their weapons, the Indians had contrived some ingeniously formed three-pronged spears, keen as lancets, and well barbed, ready for use in the war against the fish.The deep rift leading down to the canyon was soon found, and this time Bart approached cautiously, lest there should be another of the rattle-tailed snakes lurking in a crevice of the rock; but this time they had nothing of the kind to encounter. A magnificent deer, though, sprang from a dense thicket, and Bart’s rifle, like that of Joses, was at his shoulder on the instant.“No, no!” cried the Beaver, eagerly; and they lowered the pieces.“Ah!” cried Bart, in a disappointed tone, “I had, just got a good sight of him. I know I should not have missed.”“The Beaver’s right, Master Bart,” said Joses, quietly. “If we fired, the sound might travel to the Apachés, and bring ’em down upon us. Best not, my lad. We’ll get the salmon without our guns.”They entered the “chimney,” and, acquainted now with its peculiarities, the party descended much more quickly than on the previous occasion. The way was clearer, too, the vines and tangled growth having been cleared at the first descent, when pieces of rock were removed, and others placed in clefts and cracks to facilitate the walking, so that, following the same plan again, there was a possibility of the slope becoming in time quite an easy means of communication between the canyon and the plain.They reached the bottom in safety, and probably to make sure that there should be no such accident as that to the Doctor occur unseen, the chief took the precaution of planting the party on rocks out in the stream well in view one of the other, and just where the fish would pass. He then set a couple of his men to watch for danger, and the spearing began.“Now, Master Bart,” said Joses, “sling your rifle as I do, and let’s see what you can do in spearing salmon.”“Hadn’t we better leave our rifles ashore there, under the trees?” replied Bart.“Yes, my lad, if you want to be taken at a disadvantage. Why, Master Bart, I should as soon think of leaving an arm or a leg ashore as my rifle. No, my lad, there’s no peace times out here; so no matter how inconvenient it may be, sling your piece, and be always prepared for the worst.”“Oh, all right, Joses,” replied Bart, pettishly, and he slung his rifle.“Oh, it’s of no use for you to be huffy, my lad,” growled Joses. “You never know when danger’s coming. I knowed a young fellow once up in the great north plains. He’d been across the Alkali Desert in a bad time, and had been choked with the heated dust and worried with the nasty salty stuff that had filled his eyes and ears, so that when he got to a branch of one of the rivers up there that was bubbling over rocks and stones just as this may be, and—ah, stoopid! Missed him!” cried Joses, after making a tremendous stab at a salmon.“Well, Joses?”Well! no, it wasn’t well. He thought he must have a good swim, and so he took off his clothes, laid his rifle up against the trunk of a big pine-tree, and in he went, and began splashing about in the beautiful cool clear water, which seemed to soften his skin, and melt off quite a nasty salt crust that had made him itchy and almost mad for days.Well, this was so good that he swam farther and farther, till he swam right across to where the stream ran fast right under the steep rock, not so big as this, but still so big and steep that a man could not have climbed up it at the best of times, and—“Got him, my lad?” he exclaimed, as he saw Bart make a vigorous thrust with his spear.“Yes, I have him,” cried Bart, excitedly, as he struggled with the vigorous fish, a large one of fourteen or fifteen pounds’ weight, one which he successfully drew upon the rocks, and after gloating over its silvery beauty, carried to the shore, returning just in time to see Joses strike down his fish-spear, and drag out a fish a little larger than the first one caught.“That’s a fine one, Master Bart,” growled Joses, as he set off to step from stone to stone to the bank, while Bart, eager and excited, stood with poised spear, gazing intently down into the clear depths for the next beauty that should come within his reach.Just then one came up stream, saw the danger impending, and went off like a flash through the water, turning slightly on his side and showing his great silvery scales.“Too late for him, Joses,” cried Bart.“Ah, you must be sharp with them, my lad, I can tell you,” cried his companion. “Well, as I was telling of you, the rock on the opposite side of the river rose up like a wall, and there was just a shelf of stone big enough for a man to land on before he tried to swim back. Those stones, too, were right in the sunshine, and the wall behind them was just the same, and they’d be nice and warm.”“How do you know, Joses?”“How do I know? because I’ve swum across that river often, and it’s very cold—so cold that you’re glad to get out and have a good warm on the rocks before you try to swim back. Got him again?”“Yes,” replied Bart, who had made a successful thrust. “Only a small one though.”“Not so bad, my lad; not so bad. He’s a good eight or nine pounds. Well, as I was telling you, this young man got out on the bit of a shelf, and was warming himself, when his eyes nearly jumped out of his head, for he saw half-a-dozen Injuns come from among the pine-trees, and one of them, when he saw that young man there, ran loping towards where the gun stood, caught it up, and took a quick aim at him. Now, then—Ah, I’ve got you this time,” cried Joses, spearing the largest fish yet caught, dragging it out of the water, and taking it ashore.“Fine one, Joses?” cried Bart.“Yes; he’s a pretty good one. Ah, you missed him again. It wants a sharp poke, my lad. Well, now then,” he added, as Bart, recovered himself after an ineffectual thrust, “what ought that young man to have done, Master Bart?”“Taken a header into the river, dived, and swum for his life.”“Right, boy; but he was so scared and surprised that he sat there staring at the Injun, and gave him a chance to fire at him, being so near that the shot whistled by his ear and flattened on the rock behind, and fell on the shelf where he was sitting.”“That woke him up, I suppose?” said Bart.“It just did, my lad; and before the Indians knew where he was, he went plop into the river and disappeared, and the Injun ran down to catch him as he came up again.”“And,” said Bart, quickly, “they didn’t catch sight of his head when he came above the water, because he swam up with the eddy into a dark pool among some rocks, and squatted there, with only his nose above the water, till they thought he was drowned, and went, and then he crept out.”“Why, how did you know?” growled Joses.“Because you’ve told me half-a-dozen times before. I recollect now,” said Bart, “only you began it in a different way, so that I thought it was a new story; and you were that young man, Joses.”“Course I was,” growled the other; “but hang me if I tell you a story again.”“Never mind, Joses; here’s another,” cried Bart, laughing.“And here’s a bigger one, Master Bart,” said Joses, chuckling.“What splendid sport!” cried Bart, as he followed Joses ashore with his prize, and added it to the silvery heap.“Ay, it ain’t amiss. We shall give them a reg’lar treat in the camp, that we shall.”“Look, Joses, the Beaver’s got a monster. He has let it go. What’s he bounding ashore for like that?”“Quick, Master Bart—danger!” cried Joses, excitedly, as a warning cry rang along the river. “Look out! This way!”“What’s the danger?” cried Bart, leaping ashore and un-slinging his rifle.“Injun, my lad; don’t you see ’em? they’re coming down the canyon. This way. Never mind the fish; make straight for the chimney. We can hold that again ’em anyhow.”Crack—crack! went a couple of rifles from some distance up the river, and the bullets cut the boughs of the trees above their heads.Bart’s immediate idea was to sink down amongst the herbage for cover and return the shot, but the Beaver made a rush at him, shouting, “No, no, no!” and taking his place, began to return the fire of the approaching Indians, bidding Bart escape.“I don’t like leaving all that fish after all, Master Bart,” said Joses; “they’d be so uncommon good up yonder. Go it, you skunks! fire away, and waste your powder! Yah! What bad shots your savages are! I don’t believe they could hit our mountain upstairs there! Hadn’t we better stop and drive them back, Beaver, and let the greasers carry away the fish?”Crack—crack—crack! rattled the rifles; and as the faint puffs of smoke could be seen rising above the bushes and rocks high up the canyon, the sounds of the firing echoed to and from the rocky sides till they died away in the distance, and it seemed at last, as the firing grew a little hotter, and was replied to briskly by Joses and the Indians, that fifty or sixty people were firing on either side.The attack was so fairly responded to that the Apachés were checked for the time, and Joses raised himself from the place he had made his rifle-pit, and called to the Mexican greasers to run and pick up the fish, while he and the Indians covered them; but though he called several times, not one responded.“What’s come of all them chaps, Master Bart?” he cried.“I think they all got to the chimney, and began to climb up,” replied Bart.“Just like ’em,” growled Joses. “My word, what a brave set o’ fellows they are! I don’t wonder at the Injun looking down upon ’em and making faces, as if they was an inferior kind of beast. Ah, would you?”Joses lowered himself down again, for a bullet had whizzed by in unpleasant proximity to his head.“Are you hurt, Joses?” cried Bart, half rising to join him.“Keep down, will you, Master Bart! Hurt me? No. They might hit you. I say, have you fired yet?”“Yes, three times,” replied Bart; “but I fired over their heads to frighten them.”“Hark at that!” cried Joses; “just as if that would frighten an Injun. It would make him laugh and come close, because you were such a bad shot. It does more harm than good, my lad.”Crack!Joses’ rifle uttered its sharp report just then, and the firing ceased from a spot whence shot after shot had been coming with the greatest regularity, and the rough fellow turned grimly to his young companion.“I don’t like telling you to do it, Master Bart, because you’re such a young one, and it seems, of course, shocking to say shoot men. But then you see these ain’t hardly like men; they’re more like rattlesnakes. We haven’t done them no harm, and we don’t want to do them no harm, but all the same they will come and they’ll kill the lot of us if they can; so the time has come when you must help us, for you’re a good shot, my lad, and every bullet you put into the Injun means one more chance for us to save our scalps, and help the Doctor with his plans.”“Must I fireatthem then, Joses?” said Bart, sadly.“Yes, my lad, you must. They’re five or six times as many as we are, and they’re coming slowly on, creeping from bush to bush, so as to get a closer shot at us. There, I tell you what you do; fire at their chests, aim right at the painted skull they have there. That’ll knock ’em down and stop ’em, and it’ll comfort you to think that they may get better again.”“Don’t talk foolery, Joses,” cried Bart, angrily, “Do you think I’m a child?”Joses chuckled, and took aim at a bush that stood above a clump of rocks, one from which another Indian was firing regularly; but just then the Beaver’s rifle sent forth its bullet, and Bart saw an Indian spring up on to the rocks, utter a fierce yell, shake his rifle in the air, and then fall headlong into the river.“Saved my charge,” said Joses, grimly. “There, I won’t fool about with you, Master Bart, but tell you the plain truth. It’s struggle for life out here; kill or be killed; and you must fight for yourself and your friends like a man. For it isn’t only to serve yourself, lad, but others. It’s stand by one another out here, man by man, and make enemies feel that you are strong, or else make up your mind to go under the grass.”Bart sighed and shuddered, for he more than once realised the truth of what his companion said. But he hesitated no longer, for these savages were as dangerous as the rattlesnakes of the plains, and he felt that however painful to his feelings, however dreadful to have to shed human blood, the time had come when he must either stand by his friends like a man, or slink off like a cur.Bart accepted the stern necessity, and watching the approach of the Indians, determined only to fire when he saw pressing need.The consequence was that a couple of minutes later he saw an Indian dart from some bushes, and run a dozen yards to a rock by the edge of the swift river, disappear behind it, and then suddenly his head and shoulders appeared full in Bart’s view; the Indian took quick aim, and as the smoke rose from his rifle the Beaver uttered a low hissing sound, and Bart knew that he was hit.Not seriously apparently, for there was a shot from his hiding-place directly after, and then Bart saw the Indian slowly draw himself up into position again, partly over the top of the rock, from whence he was evidently this time taking a long and careful aim at the brave chief, who was risking his life for the sake of his English friends.Bart hesitated no longer. Joses had said that he was a good shot. He was, and a quick one; and never was his prowess more needed than at that moment, when, with trembling hands, he brought his rifle to bear upon the shoulders of the savage. Then for a moment his muscles felt like iron; he drew the trigger, and almost simultaneously the rifle of the savage rang out. Then, as the smoke cleared away, Bart saw him standing erect upon the rock, clutching at vacancy, before falling backwards into the river with a tremendous splash; and as Bart reloaded, his eyes involuntarily turned towards the rushing stream, and he saw the inanimate body swept swiftly by.“What have I done!” he gasped, as the cold sweat broke out upon his brow. “Horrible! What a deed to do!” and his eyes seemed fixed upon the river in the vain expectation of seeing the wretched savage come into sight again.Just then he felt a touch upon his arm, and turning sharply found himself face to face with the Beaver, whose shoulder was scored by a bullet wound, from which the blood trickled slowly down over his chest.As Bart faced him he smiled, and grasped the lad’s hand, pressing it between both of his.“Saved Beaver’s life,” he said, softly. “Beaver never forgets. Bart is brave chief.”Bart felt better now, and he had no time for farther thought, the peril in which they were suddenly appearing too great.For the Beaver pointed back to where the chimney offered the way of escape.“Time to go,” the Beaver said. “Come.”And, setting the example, he began to creep from cover to cover, after uttering a low cry, to which his followers responded by imitating their leader’s actions.“Keep down low, Master Bart,” whispered Joses. “That’s the way. The chimney’s only about three hundred yards back. We shall soon be there, and then we can laugh at these chaps once we get a good start up. We must leave the fish though, worse luck. There won’t be so many of ’em to eat it though as there was at first. Hallo! How’s that?”The reason for his exclamation was a shot that whizzed by him—one fired from a long way down the canyon in the way they were retreating, and, to Bart’s horror, a second and a third followed from the same direction, with the effect that the savages who had attacked first gave a triumphant yell, and began firing quicker than before.“Taken between two fires, Master Bart,” said Joses, coolly; “and if we don’t look out they’ll be up to the chimney before we can get there, and then—”“We must sell our lives as dearly as we can, Joses,” cried Bart.“Good, lad—good, lad!” replied Joses, taking deadly aim at one of the Indians up the river, and firing; “but my life ain’t for sale. I want it for some time to come.”“That’s right; keep up the retreat. Well done, Beaver!”This was an account of the action of the chief, who, calling upon three of his men to follow him, dashed down stream towards the chimney, regardless of risk, so as to hold the rear enemies in check, while Bart, Joses, and the other three Indians did the same by the party up stream, who, however, were rapidly approaching now.“I want to know how those beggars managed to get down into the canyon behind us,” growled Joses, as he kept on steadily firing whenever he had a chance. “They must have gone down somewhere many miles away. I say, you mustn’t lose a chance, my lad. Now then; back behind those rocks. Let’s run together.”Crack—crack—crack! went the Indians’ rifles, and as the echoes ran down the canyon, they yelled fiercely and pressed on, the Beaver’s men yelling back a defiance, and giving them shot for shot, one of which took deadly effect.There was a fierce yelling from down below as the savages pressed upwards, and the perils of the whole party were rapidly increasing.“Didn’t touch you, did they, Master Bart?” cried Joses from his hiding-place.“No.”“Keep cool, then. Now, Injuns! Another run for it—quick!”A dash was made after the Beaver to a fresh patch of cover, and the firing from above and below became so fierce that the position grew one of dire extremity.“Look out, my lads!” cried the frontiersman; “they’re getting together for a rush. You must each bring down your man.”There was no mistaking the plan of the Indians now, and Bart could see them clustering into some bushes just at the foot of the mountain where it ran perpendicularly down, forming part of the canyon wall. They seemed to be quite thirty strong, and a bold rush must have meant death to the little party, unless they could reach the chimney; and apparently the savages coming up from below had advanced so far that the Beaver had not been able to seize that stronger point.“Keep cool, Master Bart. We must stand fast, and give ’em such a sharp fire as may check them. As soon as we’ve fired, you make a run for it, my lad, straight for the chimney. Never mind anybody else, but risk the firing, and run in and climb up as fast as you can.”“And what about you, Joses?” asked Bart.“I’ll stop and cover your retreat, my lad; and if we don’t meet again, tell the Doctor I did my best; and now God bless you! good-bye. Be ready to fire.”“I’m ready, Joses, and I shan’t go,” replied Bart firmly.“You won’t go? But I order you to go, you young dog!” cried Joses, fiercely.“Well, of all the—look out, Beaver! Fire, Master Bart! Here they come!”Quite a volley rang out as some five-and-twenty Indians came leaping forward, yelling like demons, and dashing down upon the little party. Two of this number fell, but this did not check them, and they were within fifty yards of Bart, who was rapidly re-charging, when Joses roared out: “Knives—knives out! Don’t run!”The bravery of the Indians, of Joses, and Bart would have gone as nothing at such a time as this, for they were so terribly outnumbered that all they could have done would have been to sell their lives as dearly as they could. In fact, their fates seemed to be sealed, when help came in a very unexpected way, and turned the tide of affairs.The savage Apachés had reduced the distance to thirty yards now, and Bart felt quite dizzy with excitement as he fired his piece and brought down one of the enemy, whose ghastly, painted breasts seemed to add to the horror of the situation.Another moment or two, and then he knew that the struggle would come, and dropping his rifle, he wrenched his knife from its light sheath, when suddenly there was a fierce volley from on high—a fire that took the Indians in the rear. Six fell, and the rest, stunned by this terrible attack from a fresh quarter, turned on the instant, and fled up the canyon, followed by a parting fire from which a couple more fell.“Hurray!” shouted Joses; “now for the chimney. Come, Master Bart! Now, Beaver—now’s your time!”They ran from cover to cover, meeting shot after shot from below, and in a minute were close up with the Beaver and his three men, who were hard pressed by the advancing party.“Now, Beaver,” cried Joses, finishing the re-loading of his piece, “what do you say to a bold rash forward—right to the mouth of the chimney?”“Yes,” said the chief; “shoot much first.”“Good,” cried Joses. “Now, Master Bart, fire three or four times wherever there’s a chance, and then re-load and forward.”These orders were carried out with so good an effect that the Apachés below were for the moment checked, and seemed staggered by this accession of strength, giving the little party an opportunity to make their bold advance, running from bush to bush and from rock to rock until they were well up to the mouth of the chimney, but now in terribly close quarters with their enemies, who held their fire, expecting that the advance would be continued right on to a hand-to-hand encounter.Then there was a pause and a dead silence, during which, in obedience to signs made by the Beaver, first one and then another crept behind the bushes to the mouth of the chimney, entered it, and began to ascend. There was a bit of a fight between Bart and Joses as to which should be first, with the result that the latter went first, then Bart followed, and the Beaver came last.So close was it, though, that as they climbed up the steep narrow rocky slope there was a fierce yell and a rush, and they saw the light slightly obscured as the Apachés dashed by the entrance in a fierce charge, meant to overwhelm them.Directly after the canyon seemed to be filled with yells of disappointment and rage, as the Apachés found that their intended victims had eluded them just as they had vowed their destruction.This gave a minute’s grace, sufficient for the fugitives to get some little distance up the narrow rock passage, the Beaver and Bart pausing by the top of the steepest piece of rock about a hundred feet above the entrance, which, overshadowed as it was by trees, had a beautifully peaceful appearance as seen against the broad light of day.All at once there was a loud yell, betokening the fact that the entrance to the chimney had been seen, and directly after a couple of Indians leaped in and began to climb.Bart’s and the Beaver’s rifles seemed to make but one report, when the narrow chasm was filled with the vapour of exploded gunpowder, and the two Indians fell back.“Climb,” whispered the Beaver; and Bart led the way, the chief keeping close behind him, till they were on the heels of the rest of the party, who had halted to see if they could be of use.The entry was now hidden, and they stopped to listen, just as the successive reports of three rifles came echoing up in company with the curious pattering noise made by the bullets, which seemed as if they glanced here and there against the stones, sending fragments rattling down, but doing no farther harm, for the fugitives were not in the line of the shooters’ sight.The retreat went on, with the Beaver and Joses taking it in turn to remain behind at a corner of the rift or some barrier of rock to keep the Apachés in check, for they kept coming fiercely on. Now and then they were checked by a shot, but in that dark narrow pass there was but little opportunity for firing, and the chief thing aimed at was retreat.The top was reached at last, and as they neared it, to Bart’s great delight, he found that there was a strong party there, headed by the Doctor, who had heard the firing, and came to his followers’ relief.The main thing to decide now was how to hold the Apachés in check while a retreat was made to the mountain, where all was right, the horses and cattle being in their strong places, and every one on the alert.The Beaver decided the matter by undertaking, with one of his men, to keep the Apachés from getting to the top till their friends had reached the rock, where they were to be ready to cover his retreat.The Doctor made a little demur at first, but the chief insisted, and after an attempt on the part of the Apachés at fighting their way up had been met by a sharp volley, the whole party, saving the Beaver and one follower, retreated to the rock fortress, where they speedily manned all the points of defence, and waited eagerly for the coming of the chief. But to Bart’s horror he did not come, while simultaneously there was a shout from the Doctor and another from Joses, the one giving warning that a very strong body of mounted men was appearing over the plains, the other that the savages from the canyon had fought their way up the chimney, and were coming on to the attack.
The undertaking of the chief was considered sufficient, and as a change of food would be very acceptable to the little mining colony, the Doctor made no difficulty about the matter, so the Beaver sent out scouts into the plain to give the earliest notice of the appearance of danger, and to supplement this, the Doctor posted Harry, their English follower, in the best position on the mountain, with the powerful glass, so that he might well sweep the plain, and give an earlier notice of the enemy’s coming than even the Indians could supply.
The Beaver looked very hard at the telescope, and said that it was very great medicine, evidently feeling for it a high degree of respect. Then certain other arrangements having been made, including the choice of half-a-dozen of the Mexican greasers to carry the salmon that Bart said laughingly they had not yet caught, the fishing party, which included Bart, Joses, the Beaver, the interpreter, and six more Indians, all started for the patch of forest.
They were all well-armed, and, in addition to their weapons, the Indians had contrived some ingeniously formed three-pronged spears, keen as lancets, and well barbed, ready for use in the war against the fish.
The deep rift leading down to the canyon was soon found, and this time Bart approached cautiously, lest there should be another of the rattle-tailed snakes lurking in a crevice of the rock; but this time they had nothing of the kind to encounter. A magnificent deer, though, sprang from a dense thicket, and Bart’s rifle, like that of Joses, was at his shoulder on the instant.
“No, no!” cried the Beaver, eagerly; and they lowered the pieces.
“Ah!” cried Bart, in a disappointed tone, “I had, just got a good sight of him. I know I should not have missed.”
“The Beaver’s right, Master Bart,” said Joses, quietly. “If we fired, the sound might travel to the Apachés, and bring ’em down upon us. Best not, my lad. We’ll get the salmon without our guns.”
They entered the “chimney,” and, acquainted now with its peculiarities, the party descended much more quickly than on the previous occasion. The way was clearer, too, the vines and tangled growth having been cleared at the first descent, when pieces of rock were removed, and others placed in clefts and cracks to facilitate the walking, so that, following the same plan again, there was a possibility of the slope becoming in time quite an easy means of communication between the canyon and the plain.
They reached the bottom in safety, and probably to make sure that there should be no such accident as that to the Doctor occur unseen, the chief took the precaution of planting the party on rocks out in the stream well in view one of the other, and just where the fish would pass. He then set a couple of his men to watch for danger, and the spearing began.
“Now, Master Bart,” said Joses, “sling your rifle as I do, and let’s see what you can do in spearing salmon.”
“Hadn’t we better leave our rifles ashore there, under the trees?” replied Bart.
“Yes, my lad, if you want to be taken at a disadvantage. Why, Master Bart, I should as soon think of leaving an arm or a leg ashore as my rifle. No, my lad, there’s no peace times out here; so no matter how inconvenient it may be, sling your piece, and be always prepared for the worst.”
“Oh, all right, Joses,” replied Bart, pettishly, and he slung his rifle.
“Oh, it’s of no use for you to be huffy, my lad,” growled Joses. “You never know when danger’s coming. I knowed a young fellow once up in the great north plains. He’d been across the Alkali Desert in a bad time, and had been choked with the heated dust and worried with the nasty salty stuff that had filled his eyes and ears, so that when he got to a branch of one of the rivers up there that was bubbling over rocks and stones just as this may be, and—ah, stoopid! Missed him!” cried Joses, after making a tremendous stab at a salmon.
“Well, Joses?”
Well! no, it wasn’t well. He thought he must have a good swim, and so he took off his clothes, laid his rifle up against the trunk of a big pine-tree, and in he went, and began splashing about in the beautiful cool clear water, which seemed to soften his skin, and melt off quite a nasty salt crust that had made him itchy and almost mad for days.
Well, this was so good that he swam farther and farther, till he swam right across to where the stream ran fast right under the steep rock, not so big as this, but still so big and steep that a man could not have climbed up it at the best of times, and—“Got him, my lad?” he exclaimed, as he saw Bart make a vigorous thrust with his spear.
“Yes, I have him,” cried Bart, excitedly, as he struggled with the vigorous fish, a large one of fourteen or fifteen pounds’ weight, one which he successfully drew upon the rocks, and after gloating over its silvery beauty, carried to the shore, returning just in time to see Joses strike down his fish-spear, and drag out a fish a little larger than the first one caught.
“That’s a fine one, Master Bart,” growled Joses, as he set off to step from stone to stone to the bank, while Bart, eager and excited, stood with poised spear, gazing intently down into the clear depths for the next beauty that should come within his reach.
Just then one came up stream, saw the danger impending, and went off like a flash through the water, turning slightly on his side and showing his great silvery scales.
“Too late for him, Joses,” cried Bart.
“Ah, you must be sharp with them, my lad, I can tell you,” cried his companion. “Well, as I was telling of you, the rock on the opposite side of the river rose up like a wall, and there was just a shelf of stone big enough for a man to land on before he tried to swim back. Those stones, too, were right in the sunshine, and the wall behind them was just the same, and they’d be nice and warm.”
“How do you know, Joses?”
“How do I know? because I’ve swum across that river often, and it’s very cold—so cold that you’re glad to get out and have a good warm on the rocks before you try to swim back. Got him again?”
“Yes,” replied Bart, who had made a successful thrust. “Only a small one though.”
“Not so bad, my lad; not so bad. He’s a good eight or nine pounds. Well, as I was telling you, this young man got out on the bit of a shelf, and was warming himself, when his eyes nearly jumped out of his head, for he saw half-a-dozen Injuns come from among the pine-trees, and one of them, when he saw that young man there, ran loping towards where the gun stood, caught it up, and took a quick aim at him. Now, then—Ah, I’ve got you this time,” cried Joses, spearing the largest fish yet caught, dragging it out of the water, and taking it ashore.
“Fine one, Joses?” cried Bart.
“Yes; he’s a pretty good one. Ah, you missed him again. It wants a sharp poke, my lad. Well, now then,” he added, as Bart, recovered himself after an ineffectual thrust, “what ought that young man to have done, Master Bart?”
“Taken a header into the river, dived, and swum for his life.”
“Right, boy; but he was so scared and surprised that he sat there staring at the Injun, and gave him a chance to fire at him, being so near that the shot whistled by his ear and flattened on the rock behind, and fell on the shelf where he was sitting.”
“That woke him up, I suppose?” said Bart.
“It just did, my lad; and before the Indians knew where he was, he went plop into the river and disappeared, and the Injun ran down to catch him as he came up again.”
“And,” said Bart, quickly, “they didn’t catch sight of his head when he came above the water, because he swam up with the eddy into a dark pool among some rocks, and squatted there, with only his nose above the water, till they thought he was drowned, and went, and then he crept out.”
“Why, how did you know?” growled Joses.
“Because you’ve told me half-a-dozen times before. I recollect now,” said Bart, “only you began it in a different way, so that I thought it was a new story; and you were that young man, Joses.”
“Course I was,” growled the other; “but hang me if I tell you a story again.”
“Never mind, Joses; here’s another,” cried Bart, laughing.
“And here’s a bigger one, Master Bart,” said Joses, chuckling.
“What splendid sport!” cried Bart, as he followed Joses ashore with his prize, and added it to the silvery heap.
“Ay, it ain’t amiss. We shall give them a reg’lar treat in the camp, that we shall.”
“Look, Joses, the Beaver’s got a monster. He has let it go. What’s he bounding ashore for like that?”
“Quick, Master Bart—danger!” cried Joses, excitedly, as a warning cry rang along the river. “Look out! This way!”
“What’s the danger?” cried Bart, leaping ashore and un-slinging his rifle.
“Injun, my lad; don’t you see ’em? they’re coming down the canyon. This way. Never mind the fish; make straight for the chimney. We can hold that again ’em anyhow.”
Crack—crack! went a couple of rifles from some distance up the river, and the bullets cut the boughs of the trees above their heads.
Bart’s immediate idea was to sink down amongst the herbage for cover and return the shot, but the Beaver made a rush at him, shouting, “No, no, no!” and taking his place, began to return the fire of the approaching Indians, bidding Bart escape.
“I don’t like leaving all that fish after all, Master Bart,” said Joses; “they’d be so uncommon good up yonder. Go it, you skunks! fire away, and waste your powder! Yah! What bad shots your savages are! I don’t believe they could hit our mountain upstairs there! Hadn’t we better stop and drive them back, Beaver, and let the greasers carry away the fish?”
Crack—crack—crack! rattled the rifles; and as the faint puffs of smoke could be seen rising above the bushes and rocks high up the canyon, the sounds of the firing echoed to and from the rocky sides till they died away in the distance, and it seemed at last, as the firing grew a little hotter, and was replied to briskly by Joses and the Indians, that fifty or sixty people were firing on either side.
The attack was so fairly responded to that the Apachés were checked for the time, and Joses raised himself from the place he had made his rifle-pit, and called to the Mexican greasers to run and pick up the fish, while he and the Indians covered them; but though he called several times, not one responded.
“What’s come of all them chaps, Master Bart?” he cried.
“I think they all got to the chimney, and began to climb up,” replied Bart.
“Just like ’em,” growled Joses. “My word, what a brave set o’ fellows they are! I don’t wonder at the Injun looking down upon ’em and making faces, as if they was an inferior kind of beast. Ah, would you?”
Joses lowered himself down again, for a bullet had whizzed by in unpleasant proximity to his head.
“Are you hurt, Joses?” cried Bart, half rising to join him.
“Keep down, will you, Master Bart! Hurt me? No. They might hit you. I say, have you fired yet?”
“Yes, three times,” replied Bart; “but I fired over their heads to frighten them.”
“Hark at that!” cried Joses; “just as if that would frighten an Injun. It would make him laugh and come close, because you were such a bad shot. It does more harm than good, my lad.”
Crack!
Joses’ rifle uttered its sharp report just then, and the firing ceased from a spot whence shot after shot had been coming with the greatest regularity, and the rough fellow turned grimly to his young companion.
“I don’t like telling you to do it, Master Bart, because you’re such a young one, and it seems, of course, shocking to say shoot men. But then you see these ain’t hardly like men; they’re more like rattlesnakes. We haven’t done them no harm, and we don’t want to do them no harm, but all the same they will come and they’ll kill the lot of us if they can; so the time has come when you must help us, for you’re a good shot, my lad, and every bullet you put into the Injun means one more chance for us to save our scalps, and help the Doctor with his plans.”
“Must I fireatthem then, Joses?” said Bart, sadly.
“Yes, my lad, you must. They’re five or six times as many as we are, and they’re coming slowly on, creeping from bush to bush, so as to get a closer shot at us. There, I tell you what you do; fire at their chests, aim right at the painted skull they have there. That’ll knock ’em down and stop ’em, and it’ll comfort you to think that they may get better again.”
“Don’t talk foolery, Joses,” cried Bart, angrily, “Do you think I’m a child?”
Joses chuckled, and took aim at a bush that stood above a clump of rocks, one from which another Indian was firing regularly; but just then the Beaver’s rifle sent forth its bullet, and Bart saw an Indian spring up on to the rocks, utter a fierce yell, shake his rifle in the air, and then fall headlong into the river.
“Saved my charge,” said Joses, grimly. “There, I won’t fool about with you, Master Bart, but tell you the plain truth. It’s struggle for life out here; kill or be killed; and you must fight for yourself and your friends like a man. For it isn’t only to serve yourself, lad, but others. It’s stand by one another out here, man by man, and make enemies feel that you are strong, or else make up your mind to go under the grass.”
Bart sighed and shuddered, for he more than once realised the truth of what his companion said. But he hesitated no longer, for these savages were as dangerous as the rattlesnakes of the plains, and he felt that however painful to his feelings, however dreadful to have to shed human blood, the time had come when he must either stand by his friends like a man, or slink off like a cur.
Bart accepted the stern necessity, and watching the approach of the Indians, determined only to fire when he saw pressing need.
The consequence was that a couple of minutes later he saw an Indian dart from some bushes, and run a dozen yards to a rock by the edge of the swift river, disappear behind it, and then suddenly his head and shoulders appeared full in Bart’s view; the Indian took quick aim, and as the smoke rose from his rifle the Beaver uttered a low hissing sound, and Bart knew that he was hit.
Not seriously apparently, for there was a shot from his hiding-place directly after, and then Bart saw the Indian slowly draw himself up into position again, partly over the top of the rock, from whence he was evidently this time taking a long and careful aim at the brave chief, who was risking his life for the sake of his English friends.
Bart hesitated no longer. Joses had said that he was a good shot. He was, and a quick one; and never was his prowess more needed than at that moment, when, with trembling hands, he brought his rifle to bear upon the shoulders of the savage. Then for a moment his muscles felt like iron; he drew the trigger, and almost simultaneously the rifle of the savage rang out. Then, as the smoke cleared away, Bart saw him standing erect upon the rock, clutching at vacancy, before falling backwards into the river with a tremendous splash; and as Bart reloaded, his eyes involuntarily turned towards the rushing stream, and he saw the inanimate body swept swiftly by.
“What have I done!” he gasped, as the cold sweat broke out upon his brow. “Horrible! What a deed to do!” and his eyes seemed fixed upon the river in the vain expectation of seeing the wretched savage come into sight again.
Just then he felt a touch upon his arm, and turning sharply found himself face to face with the Beaver, whose shoulder was scored by a bullet wound, from which the blood trickled slowly down over his chest.
As Bart faced him he smiled, and grasped the lad’s hand, pressing it between both of his.
“Saved Beaver’s life,” he said, softly. “Beaver never forgets. Bart is brave chief.”
Bart felt better now, and he had no time for farther thought, the peril in which they were suddenly appearing too great.
For the Beaver pointed back to where the chimney offered the way of escape.
“Time to go,” the Beaver said. “Come.”
And, setting the example, he began to creep from cover to cover, after uttering a low cry, to which his followers responded by imitating their leader’s actions.
“Keep down low, Master Bart,” whispered Joses. “That’s the way. The chimney’s only about three hundred yards back. We shall soon be there, and then we can laugh at these chaps once we get a good start up. We must leave the fish though, worse luck. There won’t be so many of ’em to eat it though as there was at first. Hallo! How’s that?”
The reason for his exclamation was a shot that whizzed by him—one fired from a long way down the canyon in the way they were retreating, and, to Bart’s horror, a second and a third followed from the same direction, with the effect that the savages who had attacked first gave a triumphant yell, and began firing quicker than before.
“Taken between two fires, Master Bart,” said Joses, coolly; “and if we don’t look out they’ll be up to the chimney before we can get there, and then—”
“We must sell our lives as dearly as we can, Joses,” cried Bart.
“Good, lad—good, lad!” replied Joses, taking deadly aim at one of the Indians up the river, and firing; “but my life ain’t for sale. I want it for some time to come.”
“That’s right; keep up the retreat. Well done, Beaver!”
This was an account of the action of the chief, who, calling upon three of his men to follow him, dashed down stream towards the chimney, regardless of risk, so as to hold the rear enemies in check, while Bart, Joses, and the other three Indians did the same by the party up stream, who, however, were rapidly approaching now.
“I want to know how those beggars managed to get down into the canyon behind us,” growled Joses, as he kept on steadily firing whenever he had a chance. “They must have gone down somewhere many miles away. I say, you mustn’t lose a chance, my lad. Now then; back behind those rocks. Let’s run together.”
Crack—crack—crack! went the Indians’ rifles, and as the echoes ran down the canyon, they yelled fiercely and pressed on, the Beaver’s men yelling back a defiance, and giving them shot for shot, one of which took deadly effect.
There was a fierce yelling from down below as the savages pressed upwards, and the perils of the whole party were rapidly increasing.
“Didn’t touch you, did they, Master Bart?” cried Joses from his hiding-place.
“No.”
“Keep cool, then. Now, Injuns! Another run for it—quick!”
A dash was made after the Beaver to a fresh patch of cover, and the firing from above and below became so fierce that the position grew one of dire extremity.
“Look out, my lads!” cried the frontiersman; “they’re getting together for a rush. You must each bring down your man.”
There was no mistaking the plan of the Indians now, and Bart could see them clustering into some bushes just at the foot of the mountain where it ran perpendicularly down, forming part of the canyon wall. They seemed to be quite thirty strong, and a bold rush must have meant death to the little party, unless they could reach the chimney; and apparently the savages coming up from below had advanced so far that the Beaver had not been able to seize that stronger point.
“Keep cool, Master Bart. We must stand fast, and give ’em such a sharp fire as may check them. As soon as we’ve fired, you make a run for it, my lad, straight for the chimney. Never mind anybody else, but risk the firing, and run in and climb up as fast as you can.”
“And what about you, Joses?” asked Bart.
“I’ll stop and cover your retreat, my lad; and if we don’t meet again, tell the Doctor I did my best; and now God bless you! good-bye. Be ready to fire.”
“I’m ready, Joses, and I shan’t go,” replied Bart firmly.
“You won’t go? But I order you to go, you young dog!” cried Joses, fiercely.
“Well, of all the—look out, Beaver! Fire, Master Bart! Here they come!”
Quite a volley rang out as some five-and-twenty Indians came leaping forward, yelling like demons, and dashing down upon the little party. Two of this number fell, but this did not check them, and they were within fifty yards of Bart, who was rapidly re-charging, when Joses roared out: “Knives—knives out! Don’t run!”
The bravery of the Indians, of Joses, and Bart would have gone as nothing at such a time as this, for they were so terribly outnumbered that all they could have done would have been to sell their lives as dearly as they could. In fact, their fates seemed to be sealed, when help came in a very unexpected way, and turned the tide of affairs.
The savage Apachés had reduced the distance to thirty yards now, and Bart felt quite dizzy with excitement as he fired his piece and brought down one of the enemy, whose ghastly, painted breasts seemed to add to the horror of the situation.
Another moment or two, and then he knew that the struggle would come, and dropping his rifle, he wrenched his knife from its light sheath, when suddenly there was a fierce volley from on high—a fire that took the Indians in the rear. Six fell, and the rest, stunned by this terrible attack from a fresh quarter, turned on the instant, and fled up the canyon, followed by a parting fire from which a couple more fell.
“Hurray!” shouted Joses; “now for the chimney. Come, Master Bart! Now, Beaver—now’s your time!”
They ran from cover to cover, meeting shot after shot from below, and in a minute were close up with the Beaver and his three men, who were hard pressed by the advancing party.
“Now, Beaver,” cried Joses, finishing the re-loading of his piece, “what do you say to a bold rash forward—right to the mouth of the chimney?”
“Yes,” said the chief; “shoot much first.”
“Good,” cried Joses. “Now, Master Bart, fire three or four times wherever there’s a chance, and then re-load and forward.”
These orders were carried out with so good an effect that the Apachés below were for the moment checked, and seemed staggered by this accession of strength, giving the little party an opportunity to make their bold advance, running from bush to bush and from rock to rock until they were well up to the mouth of the chimney, but now in terribly close quarters with their enemies, who held their fire, expecting that the advance would be continued right on to a hand-to-hand encounter.
Then there was a pause and a dead silence, during which, in obedience to signs made by the Beaver, first one and then another crept behind the bushes to the mouth of the chimney, entered it, and began to ascend. There was a bit of a fight between Bart and Joses as to which should be first, with the result that the latter went first, then Bart followed, and the Beaver came last.
So close was it, though, that as they climbed up the steep narrow rocky slope there was a fierce yell and a rush, and they saw the light slightly obscured as the Apachés dashed by the entrance in a fierce charge, meant to overwhelm them.
Directly after the canyon seemed to be filled with yells of disappointment and rage, as the Apachés found that their intended victims had eluded them just as they had vowed their destruction.
This gave a minute’s grace, sufficient for the fugitives to get some little distance up the narrow rock passage, the Beaver and Bart pausing by the top of the steepest piece of rock about a hundred feet above the entrance, which, overshadowed as it was by trees, had a beautifully peaceful appearance as seen against the broad light of day.
All at once there was a loud yell, betokening the fact that the entrance to the chimney had been seen, and directly after a couple of Indians leaped in and began to climb.
Bart’s and the Beaver’s rifles seemed to make but one report, when the narrow chasm was filled with the vapour of exploded gunpowder, and the two Indians fell back.
“Climb,” whispered the Beaver; and Bart led the way, the chief keeping close behind him, till they were on the heels of the rest of the party, who had halted to see if they could be of use.
The entry was now hidden, and they stopped to listen, just as the successive reports of three rifles came echoing up in company with the curious pattering noise made by the bullets, which seemed as if they glanced here and there against the stones, sending fragments rattling down, but doing no farther harm, for the fugitives were not in the line of the shooters’ sight.
The retreat went on, with the Beaver and Joses taking it in turn to remain behind at a corner of the rift or some barrier of rock to keep the Apachés in check, for they kept coming fiercely on. Now and then they were checked by a shot, but in that dark narrow pass there was but little opportunity for firing, and the chief thing aimed at was retreat.
The top was reached at last, and as they neared it, to Bart’s great delight, he found that there was a strong party there, headed by the Doctor, who had heard the firing, and came to his followers’ relief.
The main thing to decide now was how to hold the Apachés in check while a retreat was made to the mountain, where all was right, the horses and cattle being in their strong places, and every one on the alert.
The Beaver decided the matter by undertaking, with one of his men, to keep the Apachés from getting to the top till their friends had reached the rock, where they were to be ready to cover his retreat.
The Doctor made a little demur at first, but the chief insisted, and after an attempt on the part of the Apachés at fighting their way up had been met by a sharp volley, the whole party, saving the Beaver and one follower, retreated to the rock fortress, where they speedily manned all the points of defence, and waited eagerly for the coming of the chief. But to Bart’s horror he did not come, while simultaneously there was a shout from the Doctor and another from Joses, the one giving warning that a very strong body of mounted men was appearing over the plains, the other that the savages from the canyon had fought their way up the chimney, and were coming on to the attack.