"Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care,The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath,Chief nourisher in life's feast,"
"Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care,The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath,Chief nourisher in life's feast,"
"Sleep that knits up the raveled sleeve of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labor's bath,
Chief nourisher in life's feast,"
while silence and darkness reigned around.
CHAPTER V.
THE SCREAM AT NIGHT.
How long Blaze had been slumbering he could scarcely have even guessed; but suddenly, and without any assignable cause, he found himself wide awake. He looked around; he listened. He saw nothing but dim shadows, heard nothing but the regular breathing of the two sleepers by his side. Yet his first thought was of danger. He was accustomed to premonitions. Men who live in an atmosphere of peril meet with them, understand them, act on them.
He leisurely and thoughtfully unrolled himself from his blanket and arose to his feet. "Most durn queer," he soliloquized, turning his eyes in every direction. "This old hoss's narves must be gittin' weak, er thar's sumthin' wrong a-brewin'. Don't often feel this here way; last time I did was t'other night, when the copper-bellies was a-cumin' in onto us without words er warnin'. I'll jist scout around a bit, an' see if enny thing's broke loose."
Taking his rifle with him, the trapper noiselessly stole away from the vicinity. He moved around the camp in a gradually increasing circle, pausing but once in his pace, and that was when he was opposite to the point where he believed Martin's cabin lay. Full ten minutes passed, when he heard footsteps and the voices of men engaged in conversation. Sinking upon the ground at the foot of the tree by which he was standing, Blaze watched and waited.
Both men were strangers to him; but one of them already has been introduced to the reader, under the name of Endicott. He had had time to leave Martin and meet with another man, who seemed a friend; and to him was imparting information, both as to what had already occurred that night in the vicinity of Back Load Trace, and as to what might occur. His words, that spoke of violence and treachery, appeared to fall upon sympathizing ears. As they drew nearer, all the time becoming more deeply interested in their conversation, Blaze gave a start of surprise and recognition; he crouched closely in the shadow and listened with redoubled interest.
Charles Endicott has been already described, and his companion merits notice. He, too, differed in something from the class of men one naturally expects to find on the very outer verge of semi-civilization. He was a man of perhaps thirty-five years of age, of medium hight. He walked with a steady, stealthy, cat-like pace, his head, for the most part, bent down; but now and then it was lifted, and he cast a sharp, steady gaze around him. The features were firmly cut, the eyes were steady; yet an undescribable something seemed to be shifting across his face, which would say to a stranger: Beware of Eben Rothven!
"Yes, Eben, it does make a change in the programme, I'll admit, but, it's a change to the advantage of both. Don't you see that?"
"I see that we waste here a couple of weeks, and no one knows what the end of it all will be. You can't count on a woman, and especially such a woman as you say this is. Break them down physically and mentally, trample the life out of them, and then they'll rise again. Out of a wreck that, were it of manhood, would founder with the first breath of wind, will rise again a good stout ship. You think you can waken the old dream in her, do you? Why, man, I'm surprised at you! The deadest thing on the earth is a dead love, and there is no mending a broken idol. Take my advice and let her go. She will be a burden that will sink us both. We are on the trail to fortune now; don't let us lose it, or fly wild at the first scent that crosses it."
"You're welcome to your philosophy about dead idols and the like; welcome to shake your head and prophesy; but, what I want is your help. Of course I will get it in some shape or other; but, I prefer it to be freely and enthusiastically given."
"How much does my help enter into your calculations? I tell you frankly that I am none of your dashing adventurers, ready to ride into Martin's camp of Free Trappers. So far as a word of advice and a sacrifice of time goes, you may count on me; but, don't expect me to stand behind you, to assist in any mad experiment you see proper to try."
"My 'count' is upon your services as a Reverend—a title and authority that, as far as you and I know, is still legitimately borne. I want to use you; a piece of joinery of your handiwork will last for all time. I can not believe that the cause by fair means is hopeless, and shall try them first; after that, why, there are a few stout hands and bold heads at our back, and we must e'en make the most of our stock in trade. To be sure, we are on the road toward fortune in other directions; but this is acertainty. The woman is worth her weight in gold, almost; and, besides, it's no new dream with me. It's not so many years since she was an idol of mine."
"Yes, I've heard of it—and I think, too, that you handled it—or would have handled it—not over tenderly. Do you think she would forgive that?"
"That was no fault of mine. I would have done better if the fates had let me; but they were against me. What could I do, hedged in as I was? If I could have sunk my past record, and stood out a new man, I'd not have let 'e'en the winds of heaven visit her face too roughly.' Perhaps I've got colder and harder since then; but, if so, I think my tongue can move as glibly and smoothly as ever, and there are fair excuses to be made for all that was seemingly wrong in the past."
"There is a limit, you may find, to human credulity. You can not wash out the recollections of the past. Do you think it was any light cause that drove her out of the world, out of society, refinement, and all that women of her stamp hold dear? Every day she has spent here, every rude face and lonely hour that she has seen or felt has cried out against you. Why, man, you murdered her name, and that is a crime no woman could ever forgive."
Endicott was silent a moment before the impressiveness of his companion. Then, by an effort, he broke into a short laugh: "'Is Saul also among the prophets?' Since when has Eben Rothven set himself up as a judge of the workings of the human soul? Of course, what you say may be true as holy writ. But what of it? Fair means or foul—I don't mince matters. This is no new plan of mine, and so, when opportunity comes, I can decide on my course quickly. Delay never makes a man. She knows nothing of the financial aspect of the affair, even now; while I did, years before it was revealed to the world, or to those who chose to notice. The time for action has come. Are you with me?"
The man called Rothven hesitated a moment, as if weighing the matter in his mind; then answered simply: "I am."
"Come on, then," and the two left the spot.
Much of this conversation was Greek to Blaze, but, somehow, he got it in his head that it related to his new-made friend, Harry Winkle. He seated himself leisurely against the tree to think it all over. Both these conspirators were strangers to him, they did not belong to Martin's men; who were they? He might perhaps have learned more as to that by following them, but he neglected to do so. And, pondering over the thing, he must have fallen asleep, for consciousness faded away. For how long, he could not at once, perhaps, have told, but he came back to life with a sudden shock, that brought him upon his feet like the thrill of a strong galvanic battery. He was wakened by a woman's scream, long, shrill, cutting into and through his ears like an Indian's death-wail.
He listened to catch it again, but it was not repeated. For a moment all was silence; then he heard the steady beat of horses' hoofs stretching away at fullest gallop, and then, the sharp, quick report of a rifle. He heard the footsteps coming nearer and nearer, and he crouched in the shadow of the tree, with his hand upon the lock of his weapon, almost nervously waiting for whatever might follow.
Suddenly he felt a hand laid upon his shoulder. He started, and turned with a quick motion of offense. It was Winkle, rifle in hand. The moonlight fell past the tree full upon his face, on which was an excited if not a wild look.
"Am I crazy to-night? or did you hear it, too? I've seen a ghost this night, and now, again, I heard it scream for help. What was it, Blaze?"
This he hurriedly asked.
"If yer a lunatic there's a pair on 'em, fur I heard it too. Lay low here a minnit, an you'll see some more on it."
The hoof-beats sounded nearer; they swept on and on toward them. Then three horses emerged from the trees out into the light, and neared the spot where the two men were concealed.
"Is it he?" whispered Winkle, hissing the words out between his clenched teeth, and with a sharp click the hammer of his rifle went back.
But Blaze, quickly reaching back, seized his arm.
"Hold hard, there's more ner he thar."
The horsemen raced by like a tornado. It was a party of Blackfeet! And across the saddle-bow of the savage nearest to Blaze, was flung, or held, the form of a woman! In a moment Winkle's eye had caught sight of that which Blaze had perceived—the woman. For a moment he seemed to lose all control of himself, all power for action. Just one glimpse of a white, wild face, and a hand clutching fiercely.
"Did you see it—did you see it?" he asked.
"Yes! I seen it! They've just went an' gone an' done it. Thar's grit in the red-skins, thar are. But you'll be able to see another corpse along Back Load Trail afore many hours. Dick Martin will be behind 'em in the shake of a buck's tail—Hello! What's bu'sted?"
The man by his side had sunk, stiff and motionless, upon the grass.
"Blast my tail-feather, ef the young cuss hain't fainted. Thar must be somethin'wrongin the upper story, sure!"
CHAPTER VI.
A DOUBLE TRAIL.
On the prairie, alone by moonlight, there is a lonesome solemnity that startles, appalls. Look in one direction. For miles and miles there stretches away a tract of rolling land where the grass grows, the buffaloes graze, the coyotes howl, but no human form can be seen, no tree waving—a loneliness of nature that you think must somehow of necessity be interminable. Turn and look in another. Down from the tableland there stretches a long, grassy slope, where the foliage is more than ordinarily luxuriant, and at the foot of the declivity is the long line of timber which marks the course of some stream. There the broad elm flourishes, the lofty cottonwood shoots upward, and the white sycamore trees stand gleaming ghostlike under the mellow moonlight. Perhaps, further away to the left, where the rich bottom is broken by rising ridges of rocky bluffs, you see the gloomy spread of the cedar tree reaching upward its dismal-looking arms. Wherever the rolling prairie-fires have been unable to sweep, there you see the shade of timber and bush; everywhere else is the blue and red stem, the blue and bunch-grass or the short, crisp buffalo-grass; and far off in the distance, with a quiet grandeur of its own, you see the trace-line of the mountain range.
Some such grand and lonely scene would the reader have noted had he been standing in some favorable position on the high prairie near Back Load Trace, a few moments before the occurrence of the incidents just detailed.
It can well be imagined that Blaze was not the only one startled into action by the occurrences of the night. The shot, by one of Dick Martin's men on guard, aroused the Free Trappers, and also caused Charles Endicott and his companions the keenest alarm. Had their destined prey been seized by other human wolves? If so—who were those wolves?
As for Blaze he lost but little time. Almost Herculean in strength, he gathered on one arm the two rifles, while with the other he bore Harry toward the camp. On the way he met the negro, who relieved him of the rifles, and, upon reaching the side of the now smoldering camp-fire, produced a bottle of spirits and a canteen of water.
It was but a short time until consciousness returned to the fainting man. He opened his eyes, raised himself, sat upright, looked Blaze full in the face.
"You saw it all, did you? Now tell me, who was that woman?"
"That bit o' caliker, mister, tho' I dunno as I ever seen it afore, war most likely a woman that Dick Martin claims a sort o' relationship to, an' she's bin livin' round hyar fur some considerable time. Frum yer ackshuns I'd think yer must hev hed a priur morgidge on it, an', ef so, ye'd better be up an' stirrin', fur by the mitey the durned Blackfoot is goin' to foreclose."
"Ready, quick, quick," was Winkle's terse answer, looking from one man to the other. Then he turned, and burying his face in his hands lay stretched for a moment prone. When he sprung to his feet there was a new light in his eye, and redoubled strength in his arm. He vaulted into his saddle, gathered up his reins, and turning to Blaze, in a firm-set whisper, muttered:
"Lead on—to life or death—but I must seeheragain."
So, fully armed and fairly equipped, the three men rode out from under the shadows and cast themselves, with clenched teeth and iron will, upon the trail. All this took but a few moments to accomplish, since the three men had within them, each separately, the highest development of trained sagacity.
As they came out upon the prairie, Blaze took a sweeping glance around him, as though he would fain impress upon his mind every minutiæ of the lay of the country.
"Dog-gone the'r hides, thar's just two routes for 'em, an' on'y two, to take, an' ef I know'd which one it war it's cussed leetle trailin' I'd do to-night. In this yere leetle game it takes too much eye-pullin' to run nose-down. It ain't accordin' to reason to s'pose we won't hev to look out fur all the cussed red-skin tricks ever invented. They've got one on me a'ready due, so ef I don't squar' with 'em afore beaver-pelts is prime, I hope I may never tote a trapsack, er p'izen a buffler-wolf ag'in."
This was said more in the manner of a soliloquy than of a direct address; in fact, it is doubtful if either of the others could have heard his low-toned words. Winkle meant work; and so, for the present, thought little of speaking or of listening. Blaze meant work, too; but, talk to him was second nature, and when there were no ears open to hear he would rather press his own into service than, no pressing emergency demanding it, keep silent. Having a full twenty minutes start, they reached the spot where Martin and men had first been at fault long in advance of those worthies, and, as they had not a third trail to confuse them, and perhaps being more trail-wise, Bill did not have to spend many minutes in finding the tracks left by the two parties of Indians.
"One on each route, by mitey! Now, which to foller?"
He gave both the benefit of a close scouting. On the one leading to the right he found the imprint of a horse's hoof which he recognized as having been with the abductors. He noticed, too, that one was double laden. After a bit he came upon some shreds of a woman's dress. He showed these marks to Winkle, being careful, for the benefit of Martin, whom he shrewdly suspected would follow hard after, to leave them untouched. Harry's heart bounded more buoyantly at sight of these indications, and Blaze took one more look around him before all three dashed on with redoubled energy. But, as the trail at length lay before them plain and undisguised, Blaze's enthusiasm suddenly fell away down below zero. From time to time he glanced at it and at length reined in his horse.
"Dog-gone my knock-kneed tail-feather!" he exclaimed, "I ain't fit to lead blind rabbits to water!"
Winkle looked at him in astonishment.
"What is the matter now? Why do you halt?"
But Blaze paid but little attention to his query.
"What a gaul-blasted fool this hyar old hoss are. Tuk right in the fust pop by a bit o' baby-play. Can't yer see? That gal couldn't a-tore them bits off o'herdress. It stan's to reason not, sure. Why, cuss 'em, thar's two Injuns ridin' double here, dead shot. I thort it was too soft a thing. That led hoss in t'other party is the one ez has the gal on. Jist seen it in time. I'd gamble high thar's ez purty a leetle hornets' nest a-hangin' under the fust bit o' timber we'd come to, ez you'll find frum hyar to the Big Red."
How this suggestion was received may well be imagined.
"What are we to do then?" queried Harry. "Must we go all the way back and start fresh on the other trail?"
"Wal, not quite that bad; but, somewheres blamed nigh. Change my hind-sights, ef they ain't a-strikin' fur Crooked Cañon, full drive—we're goin', from the taste I've had of the hosses, to be jist a leetle too late to see 'em git under kiver."
"You think we can find them yet, though?"
"Think! I know it. Thar ain't no trouble about that; thar's only two trails, an' like a blarsted green purp I've bin a-barkin' up the wrong one."
"Then the sooner we look for the right one, the better."
"That's so, only it's provokin' to hev bin losin' all this time. Come on now, an ef ever an arrer went straight—an' the copper-skins kin sling 'em nasty, I kin take yer to the spot whar they're headin' fur to-night. I've bin ham-strung an' sot down on, which ain't very lively fur the boys!"
Without more hesitation or further parley, Blaze turned to the left and led off at a rate which he judged best suited to continued effort. Not for a long time did he utter a word. But when the silence had begun to be monotonous, he broke it by bringing his hand down with violence upon his thigh, exclaiming:
"Cussed ef sand-paper ain't slick as grease along side o' this streak o' roughness. Won't some one draw a bead on me afore I get my ha'r cut fur nuthin'?"
"Why, what is the trouble now? I hope we are not at fault again?" anxiously remarked Winkle.
"No,weain't; but it's three to one an' fifty cents a dozen but what Dick Martin an' his boys are. I war so bloody, blarsted particular to leave every thing es I found it, and when they come up, like es not they'll just skyugle straight along on our trail, an' so they're losin' time, an' maybe get tuk in, when we mout just as well as not all be layin' on that trail together. It's too late to fix her now; so here goes."
Winkle's momentary uneasiness having been allayed, the three rode rapidly but moodily on.
CHAPTER VII.
LARIAT DAN'S DISCOVERY.
We have said that the shot which Blaze and Winkle heard had also aroused Endicott and his party. Lariat Dan, a trailer, trapper and guide of the party, and whose experience had been immense, and whose word could not be doubted, said that he had heard, in addition, a woman's scream for help. At this, as it were by instinct, Endicott and Rothven looked at each other. Could it be that the woman of whom they had been conversing but a short time ago, had since been in mortal danger? Endicott wondered, too, whether the conversation he had with Martin had any thing to do with it, or, if some sudden peril had come to the girl as she wandered, as of old, beneath the moonlight? Then Grizzly Dave, a voyageur of some renown, and also of his party, said that he "smelt Injun," and thereat Endicott hastily gave orders for an immediate preparation for a quick move. Accordingly there was a bustle and buzz around the camp, for a few minutes, every man with nervous rapidity attending to his duty.
By the time that Martin and half a score or more of his trusty followers foamed into Endicott's camp, every thing was in a condition that spoke well for the training and agility of the small brigade. So ready, too, were Endicott's company for defense, that more than one saddle of the Free Trappers might have been emptied as they came charging up had not Lariat Dan been acute enough to distinguish the thunder of their horses from the sweep of Indian ponies, and informed Endicott of the number and quality of their approaching visitors. In a moment it seemed to him that he had caught by intuition a glimpse of the position of affairs, and he confronted Martin so earnestly that that worthy's suspicions as to foul play emanating from that camp were at once dispelled.
"Now, then, ef yer man enough to follow Dick Martin, you've a chance to ride behind him. Ther's been some carelessness to-night that'll cost more than the sleepy cusses' brains are worth. Jump into the saddle if you're ready. What you leave in camp is safe as a church, and come on. The red-skin rascals shan't get clear without hard riding and harder fighting."
"What is it? Out with the whole of it! We heard the shot and a scream, and got ourselves together for any thing rough that might turn up."
"Come on. I can tell you every thing as we go. That fool of a girl has been gobbled up by the copper-skins, and that when I had six good men out for them. She'll be fifty miles away up in the mountains by morning."
The truth, as it was spoken rapidly by Martin, stirred Endicott into instantaneous action.
"Never mind cacheing the dunnage, I'll bear the damage. Is every thing ready for a start?" he exclaimed.
"You can just gamble on that yere," was the response of Lariat Dan.
"Then mount and away. Twenty-five dollars apiece extra pay for the extra work, and every thing else goes on the same!"
"That's the right ring! Count us boys in on this yere frolic—up and git," said Dan.
Endicott's followers fell in with those of Martin, and the whole body swept rapidly away, Martin, some yards in advance, heading toward the trail of the Indians, which passed the camp not many yards distant. Those few yards were soon traversed, and, with scarce an effort, the trail was found. There it lay before them, fresh, full and deep. As they ranged upon it, Endicott drew up to the leader. At the pace they were going, a free, steady gallop, conversation could be held with perfect ease, and he wished to gather the particulars of the catastrophe as well as learn the probable result.
"It seems to me the girl is born to be the center of a mix, and just lives to make and be in trouble. I've got the whole thing down to a point now—might have seen it at once if I hadn't had my ideas turned off thinking of what you had been saying to me to-night. What there is in her white face and staring eyes I can't see; but she's bewitched a dozen or so, and in the lot there's a red-skin that's been into my camp two or three times in the last year. That red-skin has made the difficulty now."
"Then there's little danger of her coming to any immediate harm?"
"Not so much if they don't tomahawk her as we catch up."
"But will we catch up? What are the chances?"
"Will we? You talk as though you had never done business before with Dick Martin. Of course we will! What he puts his hand to goes through. That's what has made him out here. Wemustcatch up. The scent is fresh, our cattle good, and if we let them get away from us into the mountains we ought to lose our hair before we get back. Ther's a smart sprinkling of a chance for some of us to do that, though, anyhow."
"And suppose they do get into the mountains?"
"Well, then, we have a heavy contract to carry, that's all. Ah, what's that?"
The sudden exclamation was caused by the speaker's catching sight of the spot where Bill Blaze and party had come upon the trail of the Indians. Conversing as he was, and rapidly as he was riding, Martin's eye was never for an instant blinded, but made constant use of the moonlight, which, before many hours, would fail them. He glanced backward, caught the direction and comprehended in a moment.
"That's the party that were camped down there," pointing with his fingers in the direction of Winkle's lately left camp. "Only there were two men and three horses then. They must have found a third rider. Wonder if it could be the trapper that is just down from the mountains? They are on the trail hard—and the more the merrier."
Again they dashed on at a rapid rate. Now the silence was unbroken by speech. Well mounted and well armed, Martin hoped to overtake the red-skins before the moon should set, or they have an opportunity to find cover. The three men who had so unexpectedly come to his assistance had evidently a start, and they might be riding in view. Perhaps they might so embarrass the retreat that he would soon come up. Once at close quarters, unless against overwhelming odds, he could rest confident in the prowess of his men.
A mile more was soon devoured; then the whole cavalcade came to a sudden halt at the exclamation from their leader.
A new addition had been made to the number of the forces on one side or the other, and, anxious as he was to push on, Martin was here compelled to pause and make a thorough examination; the result of which proved at once embarrassing and unexpected. On inspection it was evident that at this spot a small party of Indians had halted for some hours. The grass was beaten down and upon the ground was the imprints of moccasined feet. At first there was a difficulty in finding any further traces of the horsemen of whom they were in pursuit. Martin and two or three of his most experienced trailers gave their keen eyes to the work, while Lariat Dan, Grizzly Dave and Mike Motler went circling round on their own account. Endicott and Eben Rothven remained motionless, conversing between themselves. Rothven had entered upon this ride with manifest reluctance, and would even now fain have persuaded his friend that their best policy was to withdraw from a pursuit which was attended with positive danger, and the result of which was so dubious in its nature. But Endicott was neither to be persuaded nor warned, and listened with half-closed ears to the words of his partner.
Almost simultaneously Martin and Grizzly Dave uttered an ejaculation. Each had found a trail leading away from the halting-place. Dick had already found the path made by the halting squad, and, by careful scouting, had satisfied himself that it had been traversed by three mounted men, and a led horse. And looking a few yards further he found the footprints of the same four horses leading back in almost the exact direction from whence they had come. Having noted this he turned to examine into what Grizzly Dave had found.
It was evidently a trail, though a faint one. Just a shadow of a track left, a bruising of the grass as though by the muffled feet of horses. And by the side of it another track, that of Harry Winkle and his two followers. They cautiously moved on a few paces, keeping, with some difficulty, the marks in view. When they came to a spot in the prairie that was soft and rather bare, the hoof-prints of the three horses could be quite plainly discerned. More than that, one of those horses was doubly laden, as could be told by the depth of his tracks. Then Lariat Dan made another discovery which he showed in silence. It was a little shred of stuff which Martin at once recognized as a shred from Edith Van Payne's dress.
"We have it now, boys; come ahead!" shouted the leader, and again they pressed on, guided partly by the feebly discernible Indian trail, partly by the bolder one of the three white men. But, moving with as much rapidity as they could, time, and valuable time, was consumed, and so far it could not be disguised that the red-skins had traveled two miles to the white men's one.
Another mile brought a fresh development. The pursued had thrown away all disguise and all attempt to conceal their trail, apparently being more desirous of making a rapid flight than aught else.
As they galloped on, now Lariat Dan drew up alongside of Endicott and spoke to him in a low tone: "Fall back an' out a little; I want to tell yer somethin' you mout not hev noticed."
Something in the tone of the speaker struck strangely the one addressed, and without hesitation he did as requested.
"I rayther think ther's more in this thanallon us can cipher out at onc't, an' so I thort I'd tell you, kinder private like, thet this huyer is all durned foolishness, an' we're losin' time. Jist call me a double-barreled ground-hog ef the gal hesn't gone t'other way. It's the purtiest piece o' red-skin devilment I've seen fur a coon's age, an' I'll allow it did take in this old hoss at fust; but, I kin see with half an eye now, that them are cusses blinded that trail just enuf fur it to be found an' time fooled away on it an' the devil's dance played, an' then the two lots'll git together ag'in an' be up in the cover. Ef yer want to see the gal yer best plan is to corner right off. I kin see with both eyes shut whar the're slidin' fur, an' ef the hosses kin go the pace, I kin purty nigh make up lost time enough to put yer thar before 'em."
"And how many of the Indians do you think we will find 'thar', waitin' for them and ready to gobble us?"
"Nary durned one! The other is the nasty trail to foller. Ther'll be jist three o' them, and you and yer partner throwed in. Ef yer say so I'll tip our boys the wink an' we can take the route by ourselves, er ef yer wants it, I kin tell Martin an' maybe the hull lot will go a-b'ilin' off. Don't think too cussed long, for time's preshus."
In the gambling game that Endicott was ready to play, no hand could have been dealt him which would better suit his purposes, provided the statements of Dan, so positively made, could be relied on. There was a risk to run; but the actual rescue of Edith Van Payne by himself, and the consequent possession of her, surrounded only by his own men, was a trump card that he was bold enough to make an effort to possess.
He was willing, for such an unexpected good fortune, to break, at a moment's notice, with Martin.
In fact, as the reader may have surmised, he had already half decided upon, but a few hours before, the abduction of Miss Van Payne by himself and his men. Now he thought he saw the game played to a successful termination, and seeing that, he was willing to blind his eyes to the difficulties and dangers between. He looked at his henchman with an approving smile, and slowly said: "You have done well. Let Dave and Mike know and we will follow your lead in search of the other party."
Rothven was close at hand, indeed he was hardly likely to be found among the first riders, and when Charles Endicott in an undertone requested him to gradually reduce his speed, he did it without urging. He thought it was a sign that they were about to relinquish the chase; a something which certainly met with his full approval. So quietly and skillfully was the thing managed that, before their defection was discovered, the five men had dropped behind, had turned their horses' heads, and, under the skillful guidance of Lariat Dan, were stretching out over the plain at a gait that plainly evinced that they were desirous of making up for lost time.
Since the utmost silence was maintained, it was some time before Eben could form any estimate of the direction in which he was going, or learn the cause of their withdrawal. When at length an explanation was vouchsafed him, he drew up like one who seems to think he has fallen from the frying-pan into the fire; but he did not appear to think it worth while to reason with the rest. Only he grumbled out that he thought, if they must go on such a fool's chase, leaving their own legitimate interests, he conceived that at least a decent regard for their own safety, not entering into the question of effectiveness, might have been exercised, and instead of plunging off into darkness and danger alone, they might have followed on with the main body.
Dan, their present guide, took this murmuring quite pleasantly.
"Yer ha'r'll be just as safe when daylight comes, as ef ye'd follered to a stray shot with Martin an' his trappers. Thar's no tellin' how many o' them will go under afore mornin' yet."
"Yes, come now, don't be grumbling; but save your breath for some emergency. We have a long ride before us and something of business at the end of it. I never went more gayly to a ball than I go to my work to-night."
"Oh, I'm not grumbling, and when the time comes you will find me as ready as the readiest. Only I've a respect for the old Napoleonic maxims about the heaviest battalions, and the strength of union."
"Them's only jineral principles," interposed Grizzly Dave. "When yer come down to the fine p'ints, ye'll find that, when ther time fur a galvanized bu'ster to go in out of the wet has arrove, the identical cuss that shoots plum center slides along with it, an' yer bound to drop. Ef Dick Martin's hand's out, there's the man pullin' in the stakes this very minnit."
What answer Rothven might have made can not be recorded, for far behind them they, with sudden startlingness, heard the peal of firearms.
"Thar's business now, an' you was just a-grumblin' thet yer head wasn't bein' run slap inter the hornets' nest," said Grizzly Dave. "They've run somethin' to a hole."
CHAPTER VIII.
THE FREE TRAPPERS TRAPPED.
It might hardly be credited; yet at least twenty minutes elapsed before the absence of Endicott and his men was noticed. Martin, himself, had full occupation in following the dim trail, while his men, not having yet fraternized with the strangers, accepting them on trust, from Martin's orders, as allies, were alike careless of their absence or presence.
When the desertion was discovered, Martin still continued in apparent indifference to it. After looking from one to another, in temporary doubt, one of the men rode to the side of their leader, and imparted to him the fact, that Endicott, Rothven, and three other men had disappeared from their number.
Whatever he may have felt inwardly, there was no outward manifestation that this intelligence was unexpected, or even new. He received it with a careless nod and wave of the hand, and his only remark was:
"That's all right. Never mind about them; they're all old enough to take care of themselves."
The man drew back, completely deceived by the manner of Martin, and in consequence, there was an idea in the minds of most then present, that he had not only been cognizant of their departure, but that it was more than likely that the absence which had seemed so mysterious originated from his orders.
Inwardly, Martin was more troubled than he would have cared to have owned. It reawakened the ugly suspicions which had led him toward the camp of Endicott, upon the first discovery of the abduction of Edith. Could he have imagined how any understanding with the Indians could have been effected, he would have altered his plans immediately. Once or twice he did think of turning back to find and follow the trail of Endicott.
Perhaps it would have been as well to have done so. It was leading toward his niece, though there had been no complicity with the red-skins. The defection might, however, have been caused by cowardice; so he reasoned, or it might be that Endicott had other schemes on foot, which on mature deliberation he judged to be of more importance than knight-errantry, and dangerous pursuit. The latter view seemed plausible, since he knew him to be a man of schemes and speculations; one, too, not apt to be led away from his course by any motives of sentimental humanity.
By this time the conformation of the ground over which they were traveling, began somewhat to change. Although, following the high divide, the road was still good, yet on one side or the other frequent ravines ran away; in front wound a stream, its line of timber showing black under the moonlight. To this the trail directly led. The near bank was precipitous, presenting in most places, a barrier against fording. Yet here and there old buffalo water trails had worn paths to the stream, one of which the driving rain, with its temporary torrents, had washed down, until the descent was not only practicable but easy. Down one of these paths led the trail, crossing the stream, and leading up through a rift in the timber, which stood thickly on the opposite side.
As it happened, the moonlight streamed directly through this rift, reaching every part of the path, shedding sufficient light to make every object therein distinctly visible. As he gave a glance down the bank, at the moment of beginning the descent, Martin noticed this, and that, an impenetrable gloom overspread every other surrounding object. Although not expecting danger, and almost certain that he had three times the number of men that he might by any possibility meet with, yet it seemed better to him to order a halt for a moment, while he took a closer view. In obedience to his order, his men drew rein just before coming to the brink of the bluff, while he glanced carefully around, listening with suspended breath.
No sound, save the noise of the night-wind and the rippling of the water fell on his ears. So, with carbine at a ready, he began the descent. Just before he reached the water's edge a beaver on the opposite bank dropped off, making so little noise that ears less acute than those of Martin would have doubtless failed to notice it. Every visible sign betokened loneliness and safety. Pushing on across he wound his way up the opposite bank. The ascent, making a reversed curve, was gradual. He passed on perhaps three hundred yards until he could see, at some little distance ahead, the point where the crown of the bank turned onto the second bottom, and then began to retrace his steps. Arriving again at the stream, he drew to one side until almost concealed by the shadow of an elm, and then, in a tone low, yet sufficiently loud to be heard by his men, gave the order to advance.
Just as the foremost two, but a few yards away, came in sight, he heard a slight, hissing, rustling noise, and something touched him lightly on the shoulder. To him it seemed like a whisper from Death; for he knew they were ambuscaded in the cañon. The touch was given by the feather end of an Indian arrow. The very silence that followed the advent of this messenger of hostility was appalling. Yet withal he retained his self-possession.
In a moment he had taken in the whole position, and decided as to the force of the aggressors, and the course to be pursued. He judged that a few men had been stationed in the shadows to watch, to attack, to harass, to delay. As they were there it seemed but little difference whether he had them on front, flank or rear, as far as danger was concerned; and that it would be best to dash past them as rapidly as possible. They were probably too few in number to make any thing like an open attack, and it was only while they were in front that there could be danger.
Acting on this supposition, his voice suddenly broke the stillness, ringing out clear and full upon the ears of the startled men:
"Forward at a gallop, men, and fire at sight or sound!"
Then ensued a noise of hastily advancing horsemen, who charged into the line of moonlight with reckless obedience to the command of their leader.
Again close to Martin, evidently hurtled in the direction of his voice, there fell an arrow. Then, as with a yell that was scarcely a cheer his men came plunging across the stream, half a dozen shafts fell in their midst.
Keen eyes and ears were open, and as Martin fired his carbine in the direction from whence he judged the arrows had come, the sound of its report was caught up by the rattle and crash of the firearms in the hands of his men. It seemed to be a blind affair, in which luck would be apt to go further than judgment. Again came a flight of arrows, whistling into the ranks of the white men as they swept by, Martin now at their head, and the revolvers of the assailed cracked viciously as reply. In a moment more, the danger, for the present, was past, and the whole party passed out of the dangerous defile and galloped a few hundred yards upon the comparatively safe prairie.
Then they drew rein to inquire into the amount of the damage done.
Not a man was missing; but two or three sat but loosely in their saddles; while there were two men who had lost their horses and come out on foot. By good fortune the wounds of the injured men proved but slight, and with a little rude surgery they were both willing and able to proceed.
What injury, if any, had been inflicted upon the attacking party it was impossible to determine. All the firing on the part of the assailed, had been at random, even though one or two had thought, as they pulled the trigger of their revolvers, that they were marking down black shades that might be Indians. Whatever may have been their loss, the half-dozen, at which number Martin had estimated the size of the party, had done their best, and succeeded in inflicting a very fair amount of damage. Whatever was their loss, all remained noiseless in the late left ravine.
From his hunting-shirt one of the men drew an arrow. It had glanced along a leathern strap that he wore, and hung dangling by its feathered end. Handling it carefully he showed it to Martin. That worthy took it and looked at it with a thoughtful glance. By the relative position of head and feather he recognized it in a moment as a war-arrow, and by its make he could give a shrewd guess at the tribe to which its owner had belonged, and he turned to his men with:
"There's been some underhand work that I don't know any thing about between some of you boys and these red-skins, and this is what's come of it. I didn't think much of two or three of them being reckless enough to carry off the girl—there's lots of men that will gamble away their lives for the woman that takes their fancy—but there's too many of 'em in this thing not to have a little something else behind it all to urge them on. I ought to look it out and bring the matter straight, for we can't afford to be eternally mussing with the red-skins. However, it's too late now to bother, and, if every man does his duty, we'll let the matter rest when we get to camp. But, I tell you, it's got to be the last time that one of our men goes back on the copper-skins."
Having said this much, he turned to the serious work before him. Not for long was he at fault. Again he was on the trail. Scarcely had he followed for two hundred yards, when it took a sudden bend to the right, and began to run parallel with the creek. For perhaps a quarter of a mile it continued in that course, then, turning once more to the right, it was lost in the shade of the timber.
All came to a halt and looked around. From the taste they had had they were all in a fit frame of mind to act with prudence. Besides, there were two footmen in the party now.
Standing there, there suddenly appeared, away off on their left, a little clump of moving objects which had just emerged from the head of a ravine. "One, two, three—" the white men counted the number until it ended at seven.
"Seven durned, cussed, pisen red-bellies, by mitey! Them's the cusses that killed my hoss, I'll bet my brains!" exclaimed one of the footmen.
Martin scanned the party cautiously, but could perceive no traces of Edith. They in turn, looking back and perceiving that they were observed by the white men, halted a moment, and, drawn up on the hillside slope, made gestures of challenge and menace. When they saw no movement was made in response, they moved off again in single file. Their boldness seemed strange, yet it must be remembered that it was at night, and it was only a plunge from hillside to ravine and they would be invisible. They were shrewd enough to be able to know of their comparative safety.
There seemed to be little danger, now, in attempting to unravel the thread of the trail which led into the timber. Several men were dispatched upon this errand, while others pushed still further on to find their point of exit. When at length it was found and inspected, a singular sensation was effected. The party of whom they were in pursuit had evidently affiliated with a few others and taken part in the ambuscade; and after the dash past them of the white men, all had made good their retreat to this point, near which their horses had been tethered; and, as the seven men they had seen were evidently identical with the men of the ambush, the question arose: "Where was Edith Van Payne?"
That question arose—and almost immediately received its answer. Martin, once more bringing his judgment into play, saw in a moment they had been tricked. Now, when he once was aware of it, he could trace out how, as well as Blaze had done in the early part of the chase. He reasoned and thought and knit his brows, and his face grew black. Without doubt he knew now that he should have followed the other trail, and knew, too, in what direction it tended, what spot aimed at. He was almost as wise as Blaze himself as regarded the lay of the land in a circle of some hundred miles.
Now, having thrown away the enthusiasm of the first rush of the pursuit, there was only one course left, and that a disheartening one—to acknowledge the error, and attempt to repair it as soon as possible. There was one little gleam of sunshine for him. It seemed more than likely that Winkle and two other men had followed the right trail. The possibility that Endicott and his men had done the same was a problem to be thought over. Should such a supposition be verified, it was hard to tell what would be the feelings awakened. Upon the whole, it is possible that Martin would about as lief have his niece in the hands of her present captors as in those of Charles Endicott.
"No use talking, boys, we've been fooled, and we must make the best of it. We took the wrong trail. Now, which of you feels dead certain that he knows in what direction Straight and Crooked Cañons lay, and the straight road to them, for by the holies, that's where we've got to bend for now."
At this, though the faces of more than one of the party fell, there was no lack of men to offer their needed knowledge. Nor was there any serious disagreement in the statements regarding the direction of the specified locality. Drawn up in a little circle, the direction, distance, and lay of the intervening ground, were discussed, and a plan of procedure mapped out. As the wounded men were not seriously hurt, two of them gave remounts to those who had lost their horses, and, in company with the third, started to return to Martin's ranche. The remainder, having looked well to their arms, pushed off at a regular gallop in the new direction.
CHAPTER IX.
THE BIVOUAC IN CROOKED CANON.
"Nary time, old man. There ain't a cussed bit o' danger here—no, not nary a half a primin'. Camp right down an' bunk in peace and quietness. My narves is steady, an' thar ain't no eitchin' in the forefinger o' my right hand. A man in skirty-coats would be safe here, ef he'd nothin' better than a double-barreled shot-gun with no hind-sights."
It was after dark, in a wild and gloomy spot, all shaded and strewn with trees and rocks, and the three men with their three horses were almost breathless from a difficult ascent which they had just made. The three men were Bill Blaze, who was speaking, Harry Winkle, who had spoken, and Pompey, who, the picture of contentment and fidelity, kept his place a little in the background.
"You are sure that we can do nothing more at present, and that we are in no danger of attack, ourselves? We might have been seen by some look-out or scout. I'm always on the side of prudent carefulness."
"Nary bit, I tell yer! Didn't I, Bill Blaze, put yer through? We didn't make no more show than a bob-tail rat. Ef thar war any extra dodge I didn't put on, jist tell me on it, an' I knock under. It warn't no use bein' so dog-goned careful, but havin' bin lit on in one camp, an' sarcumvented a leetle later, makes a feller draw his bead mighty fine. You've hed a lesson from Bill Blaze when that chap war doin' his purtiest, an' ef you hain't l'arned any thing you'd better sell yer claim an' go East; yer ain't wanted har."
"I suppose it's all right then. We can give our horses a chance to rest and graze; then a little food and sleep for ourselves; then to work. Pity that we must eat and sleep whether we will or no. What valuable time we have lost in procuring a chance to do the two."
"I ain't so much on the sleep; it's kinder nateral now to do without it; but, I never could see thet it was losin' time to take a good squar' meal o' buffler. I've seen the time, too, when I didn't think it war losin' time to gruge clean through a hind-quarter of a black-tailed buck. If ye'd gone across the Cimmerin river, an' got lost on the Ratone Mountings, ye mout hev thought yer war puttin' in the time purty well, guzzlin' down froze hackberries. As for roast coyote, that war a delicacy o' the season to smack yer lips over. Four pound er so wouldn't a-took yer appetite down to regulation pitch. Waugh!"
"Hackberries and prairie-wolf—rather a miserable diet, I should say. Have you tried it?"
"Hev I tried it? Yer right, I hev. That is, the hackberry part. Ther' war only one wolf to about seventy ov us, an' by the time I got my knife out it war all gone, so I stayed my innards a while smellin' on his bones. I found the derned cusses hed forgot to open his skull—an' them brains! Imagine it yerself; I never kin do 'em justice. Ef I could find a squaw as could dress up vittles to taste like 'em did, consarn my high-heeled top-knot, ef I wouldn't hook on! 'Pears to me I'd be almost willin' to go back to the settlements."
Blaze's enthusiasm, over that remembered meal of brains, amused Winkle vastly. It was not the words, but the manner of the man, that made him at times forget his anxiety, bringing to the surface feelings that had long been buried. There was over all the mixed quaintness and bluffness, moderation and braggadocio of the hunter, an irresistible appearance of honesty and trustworthiness that had won upon him in the moments following immediately their first meeting. As the man seemed to have but little to say of others, and all that he had said of himself might well be uttered by one who, swinging loose, years ago, from the restraints of civilization, had ever since, through hardships and dangers, through thick and thin, fire and water, relied for the most part upon himself—at the worst, we do not doubt without some cause, or shadow of cause. As Winkle had none, he felt inclined to trust. After a time arose a desire to confide.
The three men had been in camp for some time. They had talked some little, using, as in a country shadowed by danger becomes almost habitual, a guarded tone. There had been intervals of silence, too, when Winkle's mind thronged with exciting and troublous thoughts. These thoughts, rushing along tumultuously, and in an orderless throng, became too oppressive. They drove away sleep, banished hunger, brought weariness to rest, and made inaction work.
What all that foreboded he knew by experience. He was willing to brood, yet there was a limit he neither cared or dared to pass. Over and beyond the old troubles, which had well-nigh crazed his brain, he had found that at Back Load Trace, which had been startling at first, in fact appalling. When he first caught sight of the face of Edith Van Payne he was bewildered. Then he fancied that his mind had given way, or that he had seen a visitor from the other world. So fully convinced was he of this, that, when he had found Blaze in his camp he had been afraid or ashamed to question him as to his knowledge concerning the pale-faced girl who had flashed by him in the moonlight, or of her shadowy pursuer. It was only after he had heard a scream, seen her borne off, and had the aid of the evidence of Blaze's senses, that he came to admit that he was dealing with the stern natural instead of the appalling supernatural. During the hours of pursuit there had been but little time to ask questions, and indeed his mind, agitated by surrounding circumstances, suggested but few. Now, in the moments of inaction, scores arose.
How it came that he thus found Edith, and amidst such strange surroundings, gave him cause for much troubled thought. How came she at Back Load Trace, apparently protected by Martin and his Free Trappers? And what chance, or was it chance, that had brought Endicott and her together? Perhaps Blaze could answer some of these questions, and so, having, as we before stated, during their brief acquaintance acquired a large stock of confidence in him, to Blaze he applied.
"I ain't much acquainted with Dick Martin, an' I don't know more ner the law allows concernin' his private affairs. He come in here several years ago with a couple of men, an' put up a ranche. He war slightly green on the perairie, but hed the balance o' his teeth cut some year afore, an' he l'arned fast. Who he is, er what he is, I can't fur sartin say; but, he's at the head of as lively a gang of hunters an' Free Trappers as I want to meet. They make a purty wide range when the season's opened an' pelts is prime. The rest o' the time thar's allers more or less on 'em loafin' around Back Load Trace. Mebbe they're squar' an' mebbe they ain't. They never troubled me, but there's men in the gang that's not the kind to stick at trifles. I never heerd o' Martin himself doin' any partikiler deviltry; but, somehow, the place hain't the sweetest o' names. An honest trapper don't ginerally camp long about thar, an' when he meets any o' the men trappin' on the same stream he ain't anxious to stay."
"And the woman we saw and to save whom we started upon this trip? Who is she, where did she come from? What is her connection with this Martin?"
"Now yer askin' questions ag'in that I ain't up to the handle on. Ef ye'd talk about trace-chains an' beaver-bait you'd find methar. I've tramped over hundreds o' miles an' never see'd a red deer or a white squaw; but the next time I went over the ground thar war plenty o' both. The tramp o' civalization allers brings both along in the same trapsack. Allers a-murderin' an' a-murderin' the deer as it brings 'em. Mebbe it ain't so all over the country; but I often wondered whether they'd all go under when thar weren't no more outskirts fur 'em to live on."
A shade of vexation passed over Winkle's face as he answered somewhat hotly: "As I'm not deer-hunting, I care little to speculate on their future destiny. My questions had reference to something entirely different."
"Yes," said Blaze, reflectively. "So I'll allow. Mebbe it all amounts to the same—mebbe it don't. I've seen deer-hunts that bagged no game, an' I've seen them which did. As fur the gal, I've hear'n of her oft'ner than I've seen her. She turned up one mornin' at Back Load Trace as though she war shook outen a bag. A kinder adopted darter o' Martin's; some one said onc't she war his niece."
"But what is she doing in such a place?"
"What does gals ginerally do? Rides in the country, shoots a good string they say, an' raises the devil now an' then. Bin the makin' on her too. So thin she couldn't git on more ner one side of a hoss, an' so weak she couldn't throw a shadder when she first arove. Bin a-pickin' up sence then."
"And the man I saw riding just behind her—what does he do here? Is he connected with Martin's establishment?"
"Which man was those? Describe the crittur."
To the best of his ability Winkle drew a word-picture of Endicott. Blaze listened with interest, his face showing that he recognized the portrait.
"Now yer comin' to su'thin' I can talk on. No, he ain't none o' Martin's men, an' don't b'long in these regions. He war jist passin' through, in company with three or four more, an' see'd Martin's niece. Knowed her of old, he did. He's a dead idol, he ses, which I suppose are about same's a dead beat, an' from the looks o' the man, I should specify war a very true hit. Killed the gal onc't afore, but she's come to life ag'in, an', as the other chap ses, ain't likely to forgit it. Ef—"
"Man, man!" exclaimed Winkle, excitedly. "How came you to know this? The same story, the same story! To travel fifteen hundred miles, and the first man I pick up can tell me the same story! I tell you," continued he, fiercely, leaping up and shaking his clenched fist in the direction of Back Load Trace, "I tell you he'smyman!"
"Ef you'd go a leetle slower it mout facillate peddlin' operations. Sit down yere like a reasonable white man that ain't anxious to hev his h'ar cut fur nothin', an' I'll tell yer, nigh as I kin, the facts in the case."
This common-sense address recalled Winkle to himself, and he resumed his sitting position, but his eye still blazed and his frame shook with suppressed emotion.
"Tell me where you heard this then, or how you came to know so much of a story I certainly should not have expected to hear in this region."
"Simple as coon-trappin'. When I fust struck yer camp I'll honest allow I mout hev been indooced to hev run off yer hoss-flesh."
After this rather queer exordium Blaze paused as if expecting an outburst; but Winkle was beginning to understand his man and remained silent.
"Yas, that's an onmitigated fact. Soon es I slung inter the rights o' things I felt a speshal call to see they warn't run off. So, while you an' the dark war snoozin' I hed one eye open. I felt somethin' war abroad, an' went out a-scoutin'. Nigh whar you come so nigh puttin' my light out, under the shadder o' the trees, in fact whar you found me, I heerd two men a-talkin'; one on em was 'your man'; t'other a gospil chap, that talked es though he'd bucked cl'ar frum under the Big Book an' tuk to travelin' on his shape."
"What were they talking of, and how came they to speak of that which you have just mentioned?"
Thus questioned, Blaze gave a synopsis of their conversation as understood by him, winding up with:
"And now, s'posin' you give us an idea of what yer man has really bin a-doin'."
CHAPTER X.
A STORY OF A DOUBLE MURDER.
As we have already stated, Winkle, while fighting the crowd of phantoms and fancies that over-shadowed him, had felt inclination to confide in his newly-found comrade. Being thus addressed decided him.
"I don't know that I'm making mountains out of mole-hills. I think, though, that perhaps I have given way where I should have fought it out, and allowed myself to be over-powered by that which would only make a ripple in some men's lives. Sometimes I can think of that man Endicott coolly enough; there are times, too, when I want and intend to kill him. Yet I suppose that others have been injured as much—and forgiven. Men are not always responsible for their mad fancies—do you think they are?"
Blaze gave a curious look at the speaker. He appeared to ask the question in perfect good faith, so the trapper answered:
"Not fur the'r mad fancies allers. No."
"I don't want to make a long story, and I don't want to go into too many details. It will only raise the devil in me again and that I am trying to keep down. I want my head cool now, if ever. It seems to me it's cleared off wonderfully of late; perhaps it might so happen that I could forgive. All the forgiveness in the world, though, won't bring poor Ned back to life, or mend a mother's broken heart.
"I've never had much to do with him personally. I'm glad of it. Perhaps there would have been enough of the cursed fascinating power about him to have ruined me too. Ruin! No, that's not the word, either. He did that anyhow. Made me his slave, or his tool, or his victim.
"You see Ned went from college into business, and might have done well if he had never met Endicott. And I went from business into love, and might have prospered if Endicott had not lived. There are some crimes that law don't avenge and some that it does. Endicott has tried his hand at both sorts, and the law, being weak, only punished him, or attempted to, for the latter. Very lightly it laid it on him, too."
"Mebbe it hit him harder than you think fur," interpolated Blaze. "It's no fun gittin' inter them clutches. But go on."
"Perhaps it did. I don't believe I ever thought of that before. Ned and mother and I were wrapped up in each other. It's not often, I think, that you find a family like ours was. There had never been a difference of opinion or a single jar; but every thing went on smoothly. Ned was the pet. He was the youngest and the frailest, and when I was away at college he was left alone with mother. It never made me jealous a bit because, somehow, it seemed natural. When I came home I petted him too. We weren't rich exactly; but we had some money, and by a little care had managed to live almost as though we were. Perhaps if we had felt poverty we might have been happier. But, we had a taste of the luxurious, and I'm afraid it gave and fed a desire for means more ample. Ned, at least, got possessed with a yearning to be wealthy; and I was in haste myself to realize some of my dreams. I'm not going to trouble you with a complete family history, or tell how he and I, in our different spheres, toiled ahead, with fair prospects, for several years.
"One day I saw Edith Van Payne; and the picture she marked in my brain just then has never faded since. Some men speak of being able by shutting their eyes to bring up the scenes of long ago;—but, shut or open, it's always there, I see her just the same. I can't imagine why a woman should have such an influence. It's strange, it's even monstrous. After that day, as I looked for her, I saw her oftener. Eventually I came to know her. Then I found she was worth the studying. She was entirely different from any other woman I had ever met, for there were everlasting contradictions connected with her. She looked dashing and almost masculine, yet she really was intensely feminine; she seemed at first meeting to be beyond emotion, but, as I came to know her, she was extremely sensitive. She was one of those women externally stamped with all the marks of heartlessness, and yet have true, honest hearts all ready for the crushing. Perhaps I was slow with my wooing, yet I know I was wrapped up in it. I can not tell how much encouragement I, at first, received. As much, I guess, as I deserved. You see, she was almost alone in the world, and was making her own way as best she might. She had a younger brother, though I saw very little of him. After a bit Ned became acquainted with her. I introduced him myself. They soon became great friends, though their friendship never ripened into any thing like sentimentality. Their ages were too near for that. If any thing, she was a few months the older.
"How or when Ned first became mixed up with Endicott I do not know. In haste to become rich, he was open for speculation. I'm not certain that it was not through Miss Van Payne. She knew him, met him often, yet by some chance I never was introduced to him, never saw the three together. What do you suppose the result was? He murdered both! It all seemed to be done in an instant as it were. I was away from home for a fortnight, and when I came back it was over. Ned he killed; that Imighthave borne, but, until a few days ago, I thought he had killed the woman too.
"Mother had noticed a change in the boy. For two or three days she would not see him; then he would come home taciturn and upset. At that time she could only guess that his business affairs were going wrong. Afterward I found how far out he had been led by this Endicott, who, all the time feathering his own nest well, was dragging him to the quicksands of financial rottenness.
"What you have told me of the conversation you overheard throws some light on his course with Edith, though that I have not yet been able to fully comprehend. It seems he would have married her and dared not, even if he could. Preferring, then, the roundabout way of a schemer to the straightforwardness of an honest man, he attempted to establish an ownership in her. Curse him, he deliberately set about compromising her! She could take good care of herself, and he knew it, but he blackened her reputation simply and solely to give himself time, hoping to conceal his own part in the matter and eventually to smooth the affair over. Had he known the woman as I did, he never would have attempted it, since he succeededtoowell.
"The crisis came during my absence. Carefully as he covered the traces of his agency, Ned detected his share in the work. At first, to be sure, there was only a faint suspicion; but, that soon ripened into a certainty. Knowing my hopes and wishes, brotherly love urged him to employ every means to learn the truth. Once engaged in this, he was led to suspect Endicott's business integrity, and the revelations brought about by an investigation in that direction were of themselves overpowering.
"Then he did either a foolish or an unfortunate thing. Just in the white heat he met Endicott. Remember, that he not only knew that this man had compromised, almost beyond redemption, the woman his brother loved; but that he himself was involved in a network of toils from which he could not hope to escape short of the loss of his means, and, worse still, with a damaged reputation. They met—and Endicott killed him.
"Of course the jury found extenuating circumstances. Legal chicanery, set in motion by money, saved his worthless neck—a neck that could I have once grasped I would have wrung with as little compunction as that of a chicken. I think I could have borne that horror; but, engrossed as I was by it, it was some weeks before I knew that Edith had disappeared.
"At this time I believed she had made away with herself. I never doubted it until the other night. Of all those who knew her, there are few that did not believe the same. Heaven knows that I was loth to believe it. I hunted high and low for her, since I never doubted her honor, though I had never received any assurance of her love for me. Her own brother was left in the dark as to what had become of her. He found an envelope addressed to him, containing a sum of money she had saved for a rainy day, and the simple words, written in pencil, 'Good-by.'
"My own business, suffering for a time from utter neglect, was disposed of; my heart was chilled toward my broken-hearted mother—God help me, she may be dead to-night—and I spent my time seeking for traces of Edith, and waiting to meet Endicott.
"While I was off on what I thought a slight trace, for I had not fully allowed myself to believe that she was dead, he emerged from a prison, and escaped me. I followed him East; he eluded me. I heard of him South; but he was gone when I reached New Orleans. Then I gave way and was sick for a long season. When I came to myself something prompted me to turn Westward. Strange how Fate, or some occult law of attraction, drew me here. Yet many months of wandering, through hardships and perils, brought me no surcease, and the tension on my nerves has been gradually tightening ever since I found myself west of the Mississippi. The rest you know. Whatmayhappen, neither you, nor I, nor any other living mortal may say."
Winkle told his story in a slow, quiet, yet intense way. Blaze listened to it with evident interest.
"A condemned hard case he was. I've knowed men shot fur less than them. That's the cuss o' civilization. If yer goin' to draw a bead upon this man ye'd better do it here than furder East. Bein' that you've found the girl alive, mebbe you'll weaken on that. A human critter's a curi's consarn that only goes under onc't. In course red-skins I don't take much account on; but, when it comes to drawin' it fine on a white, an' he not lookin' for it—'pears to me it 'u'd glimmer the fire-sight."
"I think at two hundred yards he would be a dead man?"
Winkle said this slowly and half inquiringly, as though a doubt had arisen in his mind; and then he continued, in a tone in curious contrast to the one he generally used in speaking of Endicott:
"You know I've followed after him so long and was so certain of it. It would be hard to let him go after all."
"Two hundred yard is some distance, an' a man's a mark o' moderate bigness. I've seen a deer missed at fifty. Buck ag'er an' fancy shootin' don't agree good. If you'll just keep cool an' not rush the funeral mebbe ye'll eventooally git straight enough to not care a cuss if school keeps er not. I've done ye more ner a hundred dollars' worth of good a'ready."
"True, I know that—yet if that man were here now, if he could appear suddenly—"
A remarkable change came over the man as he broke off the sentence and sprung to his feet. Blaze, who trusted completely his own senses, and was confident that Winkle could have discovered no signs of any danger, looked at him in doubt and amazement as he stood bending now to one side, again to another, eagerly listening, his rifle clutched with a nervous grip.
"D'ye hear him?" he whispered. "He's coming, he's coming! curse him, I tell you he's here now."
Then Blaze listened. It seemed, almost like a fancy, too, that he heard, away miles off, a voice. He knew not whether it was the voice of man or of nature. There are times when in Western solitudes the two sound so wondrously alike that one is startled and perplexed. The voices that one hears in the cottonwoods by the river-side, or the cedars in the cañons! A brooder or a dreamer alone with them might well be driven mad.
While the trapper listened, Winkle stole noiselessly away. The negro, who had, during the recital of Winkle's story, been lying wrapped in a blanket, unconsciously sleeping, suddenly awoke to consciousness, and answered Blaze's astonished exclamation of, "Where the thunder's the boy gone to?" with:
"Jist hold on hyar a bit. Dat's nuffin new. He done gone do dat ebery leetle while; I fotch him back. Dat's de on'y t'ing 'bout Mass'r Winkle dat's cur'us. He say he t'inks he hear hees man."
Pompey, without more ado, slid off in the direction in which Winkle had gone, leaving Blaze alone, to ruminate on the story he had just heard. The negro was brimful of western experience, and Blaze thought it needless to follow. This summary exit of the two from camp gave him fresh food for reflection, and his thoughts were somewhat mixed as would appear from his soliloquy:
"Some, now, would call him crazy. I dunno; guess both sides is ground down to one p'int, an' that, 'my man.' Everyways else I reckon he's more brains ner I hev—which's a fair allowance fur this individooal to make. Ef he could git 'my man' off his intellek he'd be purty square. Cuss me, though, ef I wouldn't like to know whether 'my man'isin the cañon, or hereabouts. That's the queer part of the thing—his followin' him by guess, er instink. I've see'd a herd o' deer scattered this way an' that an' the t'other, an' often wondered how it come they war all together ag'in by mornin'. Not so sing'lar as the way he's follered 'my man.' I wonder ef he'll ever find him? I b'lieve 'bout two month waitin' to see, alongside o' this Winkle, would tame me down amazin'. I'm gittin' steady es an otter-slide now. Waugh!"
CHAPTER XI.
WHITHER EDITH WENT.
The average American Indian is not a charming object. Treacherous, bloodthirsty, cunning, he seems to need but the opportunity to show himself a monster. Much may be said in extenuation; but, there will still remain behind the hard array of facts. Was the author writing for Cheyenne, Crow, Blackfoot, Comanche or Apache readers, perhaps he might say the same of the white man, and the statement, on their limited personal knowledge, be readily accepted. In the one case it is to be hoped that the exceptions are in reality the rule, while in the other we fear they prove it.