XXVIIIDODGING THE LOOKOUT
Perk looked eagerly at his old pal when Sergeant Red made that interesting disclosure. The three of them were sitting close to the spring at the time, engaged in passing a collapsible metal cup from hand to hand, and quenching their thirst from the clear water that came forth in apparently inexhaustible quantities.
“Huh! I kinder guessed now, Red, ol’ hoss, that you had a trump cyard up your sleeve all this while—reckon I ain’t forgot a trick you used to play on us boys long ago, springin’ a nice little surprise just when the game looked the bunk, an’ we reckoned we was up a stump. Hit it up then, an’ tell us what sorter good luck it was you run smack up against, that’s got somethin’ to do with this here racket o’ ourn.”
“I was riding slowly back to the station, after taking our mail to the nearest settlement, where it could go on its way by a carrier, when I chanced to hear what sounded like a groan. Of course I first of all suspected it might be some sort of slick trap to get me off my mount; but after riding on a bit I dismounted and fastening my hoss, crept back.
“Turned out to be no fizzle after all, for I found a miserable looking man lying on the ground, half starved, badly wounded in an arm, and looking like he’d been in the river that was close by.
“I reckoned he might be one of the crowd that worked with the Hawk—had an idea I’d seen him before in bad company; but he was a tough looking sight, and I just felt sorry for the bloke. So I fed him, and looked after his hurts, what with a heap of bruises, and a bullet through the fleshy part of his left arm.
“Then I got him on my mount, and carried him all the way to the station. The colonel took charge, and had him put to bed, with Doc. Hamilton looking after his troubles. He got better right away, and on the third day said he must be going. Then he confessed he had been a member of that Hawk gang and that his name was Gene Hotchkiss, though we both reckoned it was one he’d tacked on when he came up here to keep out of jail.
“He went on to tell us that he’d been fool enough to defy the Hawk when full of hard stuff; and how the other had flashed a gun to shoot him through the shoulder; then knocked him down, kicked him in a passion; and finally, when he was mighty near senseless, ordered two of his men to pick him up and throw him over a cliff into the river.
“How he managed to keep from being drowned when so weak and sore he couldn’t explain—all he remembered was managing to pull himself out of the water when an eddy drew him in close to a shelving rock. Later on he tried to make his way along in the direction of Frazer’s post, meaning to get out of this country, for his life would not be worth a pinch of salt if ever the Hawk learned he hadn’t been put out of the way.
“He claimed to have a brother down in Winnipeg, and swore black and blue he was going back to him, so as to try and redeem himself. Colonel Astor encouraged him, feeling that what he spoke was the truth. Well, before he pulled out, going in company with a trapper chancing along right then, the chap was so grateful for all we’d done for him he up and told us a few things about the Hawk, such as we’d been crazy to learn for seven coons’ ages.
“He described the location of the secret haunt of the gang, so we couldn’t miss finding it when ready to pounce down on them. More than that he drew a sort of diagram, or chart, showing us how there was a back-door way of gettin’ in, case they barricaded the main entrance—so far as he knew not a single guy of all the pack knew about this same rear door except himself; and he’d only found it out by sheer accident, keeping quiet, since he even then had a sneaking notion he’d have to pull out on the sly, if ever it came to a show-down between himself and the Hawk.”
“That sounds like something well worth while,” Jack remarked, after Red had apparently reached the end of his little yarn; “always provided what he told you was the truth, and not a fairy story invented to hoodwink you until he got out of touch, and could make his getaway.”
“I believe it was backed by solid truth,” Red stoutly affirmed; “and the colonel was of the same opinion. We were only waiting until several of the boys returned to the station after having their vacations, when we figured on pulling the roost, and closing out the whole bunch. Then you hit our place, and he made up his mind to let you have your day, backing you up when the posse arrived after their wild goose chase, sent on a false information that the gang planned to raid the little settlement at Frog’s Neck down the river fifty miles or so.”
Acting on Jack’s request, Red explained (by means of the rude chart made by the so-called Gene Hotchkiss) just where the retreat was located; and also what course they would have to pursue if necessity compelled them to attempt to break in through the back door.
“If that stacks up against us,” Jack finally decided, “we can go over this thing again and get our bearings—it may not be necessary if we have a decent share of luck. And now, boys, let’s move along, and start something.”
“When we get to a certain point,” further advised the Mounty guide, “it’s going to be necessary for us to leave the trail, hide our hosses, and take to the rocks.”
“You reckon then they’ll have a lookout posted to command the approach, and get wind of any threatening danger?” Jack asked.
“That Hotchkiss guy told us they never left anything to chance,” Red explained; “he said that day and night a vidette is kept posted on a lookout point, where, unseen himself he can discover if even a fox comes along the only approach to the cave. He even said they had dynamite planted, with a wire running up to the den, so the whole works could be knocked into flinders if so be the Mounties came along. We’ve got to find that wire, and disconnect it first thing we do.”
“Je-ru-sa-lem crickets, I should say so!” Perk chattered; “I ain’t so set on doin’ my flyin’ in pieces that I’ll cotton to any dynamite cache.”
Then, as they were once more compelled to go single file on account of the rocks narrowing the trail, the consultation came to an end, and they continued to move ahead in utter silence save when a hoof chanced to strike the solid rock and made a subdued sound. Each rider, however, tried to keep this from happening whenever possible, by skillful guidance with the bridle.
Perk kept watching the mountain that reared up its lofty peak thousands of feet above. It might be he was wondering what would happen should the guide through some mistake overlap the range of safety, and their coming be noted by the ever vigilant vidette posted in some eagle-like eyrie far up the slope.
Would their first warning of this fact be when a frightful explosion rent the atmosphere, and the massive rocks went flying in every direction, carrying themselves and their unlucky mounts along in sections? It was not a very cheerful subject to entertain, and Perk might be pardoned for feeling a little cold chill creep up and down his spinal column, when for instance he suddenly caught a rumbling sound, like an earthquake in its first throes. It however turned out to be simply a land-slide, such as frequently took place, as Perk himself very well knew, with great rocks, and a shower of loosened earth slipping down the slope with increasing momentum.
“Gosh a mity! that one near got my goat!” Perk told himself, with a nervous little laugh; and as he brought up the rear just then neither of his mates saw his brief spasm of alarm, for which he was thankful.
Suddenly Red threw up his arm. They had for some little time been walking their horses, and this warning signal brought them all to a complete standstill. Jack shoved up alongside the leader, and they exchanged looks.
“Here’s where we got to leave our mounts, and go on afoot,” was what Red explained, speaking in a low tone that added to the thrill of the occasion, at least so far as Perk was concerned. “See this red-looking rock that cuts out halfway across the trail—that Hotchkiss critter warned me not to pass it by—if we rode fifty feet further we’d come in line with the sentry up yonder.”
“I guess now an inch is as good as a mile,” Perk observed, grinning as though he had uttered some “wise crack” that did his discretion credit.
Looking around they soon found an opening in the wall on their right, through which the horses could be led. Red was particular to take the animals quite some distance away, so that in case one of them took a notion to neigh, as horses are apt to do at unexpected times, the sound might not be heard by the man on the lookout post, or by any one chancing to be passing along the trail.
So far so good; and yet the extra hazardous part of the undertaking was but beginning to loom up ahead.