CHAPTER VITWO OLD ACQUAINTANCES
A HAPPY and well-satisfied pair were we when, next day, after writing voluminous letters home, we set about making preparations for our projected expedition into the mountains.
First of all there were the animals to be seen to. Jack already had a horse for himself,—Toby,—and he had besides a pair of stout little mules for packing purposes, one of which was named Calliope, because, under favourable atmospheric conditions, her voice might be heard at a distance of a thousand miles (at least, so Jack said), while the other, on account of his somnolent habits, and his proclivity for eating everything that came in his way, especially things not intended for him, had had bestowed upon him the name of Joe, in memory of the Fat Boy inPickwick. Besides these, Jack procuredfor Percy’s use a smart little grey mare, and for me a big-boned, buckskin pony, which, though no beauty to look at, had a great reputation as a stayer.
Last of the animals, though perhaps not least in importance, was Jack’s big, rough-coated, nondescript dog, who had been named Ulysses after the President of the United States, for the reason that, though of a peace-loving nature, he did, when once he got into a squabble, evince a determination to “fight it out on that line if it took all summer.”
Jack’s next care was to provide us each with a rifle and cartridges, a suit of clothes adapted to a life in the wilds, and two pairs of blankets. Then there was the purchase of provisions, consisting mainly of flour and bacon, tea and sugar, and a sack of dried apples; and lastly came the necessary utensils,—a few pots and pans, tin plates and cups, a shovel, a pick, an axe, and the gold-pan; the last-named being a large copper pan with “flaring” sides which Percy and I supposed to be a dish-pan until Jack explained its use.
On the eventful morning that had been fixed upon for the start we were roused from our slumbers by the voice of the ranchman boomingup the stairs,—“Roll out, roll out! Half-past five, and breakfast waiting!” and after sundry groans and yawns we bounced out of bed, scrambled into our clothes, and descended to the room below, where a good wash in cold water soon freshened us up.
Breakfast over, the beasts were brought out and we proceeded to pack the mules with our various belongings, or, to speak more correctly, Jack and the ranchman proceeded to pack, while Percy and I looked on; for, being as yet unacquainted with the mysteries of the “diamond hitch,” and all the other arrangements of ropes necessary to the securing of a pack upon a mule, we should only have delayed matters had we attempted to assist.
Under the hands of these two experts, however, the work was accomplished with great celerity. In the course of about half an hour our two stout little mules were loaded with packs weighing something like two hundred pounds apiece, the horses were saddled, and we were ready to start, and after a cordial handshake from our host, the word was given and away we went; Jack first, then the two mules, and Percy and I bringing up the rear.
After riding across country, up hill anddown, for a couple of hours, we came upon a rough, little-used wood-road which ran generally in the direction we were going, and taking this road we plodded on until about two o’clock, when, happening to look back, I observed a cloud of dust, in the midst of which was a horseman who appeared to be galloping to overtake us. Our cavalcade came to a halt, and we watched the advancing rider in silence until, much to our surprise, his near approach disclosed the features of George Catlin, our late host.
“Well, boys,” said he, as he pulled up his smoking horse beside us, “you didn’t expect to see me again quite so soon, did you? Phew! It’s hot. We’re in for a thunder-storm directly. And a good thing, too: it will cover up your tracks. Boys, I think there’s someone on your trail,—someone you don’t want to meet.”
“What makes you think that, George?” asked Jack.
“Why,” replied the ranchman, “just before dinner two men came to the house and asked a lot of questions about you: which way you had gone, how long since you had started, whether you were alone, and so on. They seemed to know a good deal about you, but they didn’t get much additional information out of me, because,when I asked them what they wanted to know for, they said that was their business; so I told them that if they couldn’t answer a civil question they might get off the ranch and conduct their business somewhere else—which they did; riding off in the direction of Golconda.”
“But why should you think that we have any reason to be afraid of them?” asked Percy. “What were they like?”
“One of them was a tall, dark-haired young fellow, English, I should say, from his accent. The other was a squat, red-haired man with a broken nose and a very remarkable voice. If he isn’t your train-wrecker friend I’m much mistaken; and if he is, his asking after you bodes you no good. He’s a bad one, if looks count for anything.”
This was disquieting news to Percy and me, for we had a lively dread of the man with the squeaky voice. Instinctively we turned to our leader for counsel.
“What are we to do, Jack?” I asked.
“Get off the road,” replied Jack, promptly. “And the sooner that thunder-storm comes along the better, for our trail must be as plain as daylight all the way. Is there a stream, George——?”
“Yes, right ahead. Let me go first, Jack; I know this country better than you do; I’ve ridden all over it after cattle. You’d better lead the mules.”
Soon we were strung out in line, and for half an hour we pegged along, every now and then casting back an anxious glance to see which was likely to overtake us first, Squeaky or the thunder-storm. Presently we came to a shallow stream rippling merrily across the road, and having advanced half-way across it, the ranchman turned short to the right and proceeded to ride up its gravelly bed; the rest following behind him. After splashing along in this manner for some distance, our guide scrambled out at a point where the stony nature of the ground would prevent the hoofs of the animals from leaving any trail, and thence he conducted us to a secluded hollow between two hills, completely concealed from the view of any traveller down upon the road.
“Now, Jack,” he began—and then stopped. “Hark!” he cried, holding up his hand. “Do you hear that roaring noise? It’s hail. That will wipe out your tracks. But we must get under the lee of this rocky ledge, or it may stampede the stock. Here it comes!” as a blastof cold air swept along the little valley. “Hurry up!”
We had hardly taken our positions under shelter of the rocks when the light of the sun was suddenly cut off and the temperature went down, I should think, fifty degrees in as many seconds; then came a rumble of thunder; there was aspat-spat, as half-a-dozen big hailstones came hopping along the hard ground; and then all at once, the storm seemed to leap upon us, and for the next five minutes one could not hear himself shout for the roaring of the thunder and the rattling of the hail. The commotion ceased again as suddenly as it had begun; out came the sun once more, and in another ten minutes the whole country was steaming with the moisture of the melted hailstones.
“Now, Jack,” said the ranchman, continuing the speech he had begun when interrupted by the storm, “what do you think of camping here? You have made a very good distance for the first day’s march; this is a good spot for a camp; and what I was thinking of mostly is that we can watch the road from the top of this hill and see if that fellow goes by. What do you think?”
We all agreed that this was a good idea, andaccordingly, while we three proceeded to unload the mules and make camp, George Catlin ascended the hill with Jack’s field-glass in his hand, and lying down among the rocks near the summit, kept watch upon the road, with little danger of being seen himself. The grateful mules, relieved of their burdens, were still rolling on their backs, kicking their heels in the air, and grunting with satisfaction, when we observed that our sentinel was making signs to us to come up the hill; we therefore hurried to his side, when he informed us that he had caught sight of two men riding along the road whom he believed to be the two who had called at the ranch that morning.
“I shall know as soon as they come in sight again round that bend,” said he.
After lying for a minute or two, peering through the glass, he backed carefully down the hill a little way, and said in a low voice:
“Those are the men. Take a look at them, Jack. The one on the grey horse is the man with the squeaky voice.”
Jack examined the men and handed the glass to Percy. No sooner had the latter obtained the focus than he uttered an exclamation of astonishment:
“Tom, Tom!” he ejaculated; “that other fellow, the one on the black horse, is Bates!”
“Get out!” said I, incredulously, and seizing the glass I gazed long and earnestly at the younger of the two riders.
It was Bates, sure enough.
Here was an astonishing thing. To us it was a fact absolutely inexplicable that Bates, whom we had last seen peering through a hole in the wall of Hengist’s Castle, should be down there, riding along a disused road in the mountains of Utah, presumably looking for us. How came he there? And why, of all people in the world, should he have chosen that squeaky-voiced reprobate as his companion? There was no telling. We were completely at sea.
It was evident that our tracks had been obliterated, for as we watched them the riders splashed across the creek and continued on their way at the same pace, quite unsuspicious of the fact that the farther they went the farther they were leaving us behind. Presently they disappeared again from our view, when, leaving the hilltop, we returned to the camping-place and resumed our preparations for the night.
It was not until darkness settled down that we ventured to light a fire, fearing that thesmoke might betray our whereabouts, and it was pretty late that night ere we retired to our beds upon the bare ground after a prolonged and entirely unsatisfying discussion of the subject of Bates’s mysterious appearance and of his and his companion’s object in seeking for us.
Percy and I felt rather stiff and extremely sleepy when Jack aroused us next morning while yet the stars were shining, and prodigious were the yawns with which we greeted our companions and each other. A hot and plentiful breakfast, however, soon put us to rights, and as soon as it was despatched Jack and the ranchman set to work packing the mules, while we two subordinates looked to the saddling of the horses. Everything being ready, we climbed into the saddles, and bidding a final adieu to our good friend, George, we set out over the hills on our second day’s march, just as the first reddening of the eastern sky proclaimed that the punctual sun was preparing to get up for his day’s work.
As a matter of precaution Jack rode about half a mile ahead, in order that he might signal us to get away and hide in case we should come suddenly upon Bates and his companion; though, had those gentlemen been awake andwithin hearing at the moment, they would undoubtedly have discovered our presence at once, for as Jack galloped off to take up his position in advance, our two mules raised a hideous cry, thinking that their dear friend, Toby, was about to desert them. It is curious how, in a small party like ours, one horse will usually assume the position of “boss”; the others, and especially the mules, looking to him for guidance, and feeling uneasy whenever he is out of sight.
We had been riding in this order for about an hour, when Jack, who had just reached the brow of a gentle hill, suddenly wheeled around and came galloping back, waving his hand to us to draw off to one side behind some willows.
“There’s a camp-fire down the valley to the left,” said he, dismounting, “and I saw two horses tethered there. I noticed that the fire is built near a great pile of loose rocks, and I believe I can crawl up close to it without being discovered, and if I can do so I may be able to hear what they are after, and what they intend to do next. I think it is worth trying, don’t you?”
“Let me go instead, Jack,” said Percy. “I should like to get up close to them so that I may make sure itisBates. I only half believe it yet.”
HE LOOKED DOWN UPON THE TWO UNSUSPECTING CAMPERS“HE LOOKED DOWN UPON THE TWO UNSUSPECTING CAMPERS.”
“HE LOOKED DOWN UPON THE TWO UNSUSPECTING CAMPERS.”
“HE LOOKED DOWN UPON THE TWO UNSUSPECTING CAMPERS.”
“All right,” replied Jack. “You shall crawl up to their camp, and I’ll stand guard a little way behind you. Tom shall stay here and take care of the horses.”
This arrangement was followed out. The animals were driven in among the willows, and I, who stayed to look after them, watched my companions as they went dodging and stooping around the end of the hill, until they disappeared from sight.
Percy, leaving Jack behind him to act as a guard, crawled cautiously toward the little column of smoke until he had come within ten feet of it, and then, lying flat between two big stones, his face concealed by the long grass, he looked down upon the two unsuspecting campers, who were sitting on either side of the fire cooking scraps of bacon on sticks. One of them was Bates; there was no question of that. The other, too, disclosed his identity the moment he spoke; it was, without doubt, the squeaky-voiced train-wrecker.
Percy could not repress a tremor when he found himself once more so close to that precious rascal.
“What did I leave Nebraska for?” Squeaky was saying. “Well, Nebraska was gettingunhealthy for me, and I thought I’d try a change of climate. I was too much sought after there, and that’s a fact. But what sent you out here?Youdidn’t have to leave between two days, did you?”
“No,” replied Bates. “I’m travelling for pleasure, you see,—at least, I was,—and I ought to be well on my way to California now, but, unfortunately, I tried my luck in a gambling hall one evening and lost nearly everything I had. I never saw such a streak of bad luck.”
The red-headed man nodded. “I know all about that,” said he. “I was standing behind you when you lost your money, and I guessed by your actions that you was pretty well cleaned out. That’s what made me speak to you, and propose we should work some scheme together to make a raise. I knew that when a man loses all his money gambling he’s generally ready to go into any kind of a scheme, no matter what, to get a fresh supply, and when you told me about these two runaway schoolboys I saw a chance to do it. How did you come to know about ’em, anyway?”
“I was at school with them,” replied Bates. “They got in to a poaching scrape and ran away. The next thing I heard of them was findingtheir names in the paper as having prevented the wrecking of a train somewhere in Nebraska.”
“What!” exclaimed the other. “Was it them?”
Bates nodded; and Squeaky’s face assumed a very ugly expression as he continued:
“Then that’s another reason for getting my hands on them. They owe me something, and if ever I get hold of them they’ll have to pay.”
“Why? What do you mean? What have you to do with that business?”
“What have I—well, never mind that now. I’ll explain later, maybe. So that’s the pair, is it?”—and he went on mumbling to himself, with his mouth full of bacon.
“Look here, Morgan,” said Bates, presently. “This plan of yours” (Percy wondered what the plan might be) “is all very fine and ingenious; but before we can put it into practice we’ve got to find the boys; not such an easy thing, it seems to me, in this wide-open country.”
“You’re right enough there,” replied Squeaky. “But if we don’t run across them accidentally I know a way of catching them, sure.”
“How’s that?” inquired Bates.
“We know they’re bound for Montana, don’t we? Found that out in Golconda. Just nowthey may be before us, or behind us, or on either side of us, and if we waste time prospecting around this neighbourhood after them they may get clean away from us. Now, as far as I’m concerned, I’d just as soon go to Montana as anywhere else,—I’ve been there before, and I know the country,—and my scheme is to go straight ahead and ride along the stage-road until we come to the Snake River bridge, and if they haven’t gone by, to sit down there and wait for them. If they want to get to Montana they’ve got to cross the Snake, and if they cross the Snake they’ve got to go by the bridge; it’s too dangerous fording the river at this time of year when the snow is melting in the mountains. She’s a pretty fierce old river, is the Snake.”
“But,” Bates objected once more, “supposing they don’t come to the bridge at all. Supposing they do manage to get across the river somehow. What are we going to do then? The money I have left won’t last very long.”
“We’ll wait for them at the bridge a week,” replied Squeaky, “and if they don’t come we’ll go on to Montana. As to the money, there’s ways of making money. There’s the cards. I know all the tricks in that line, and I canteach you. Then there’s mining-deals,—that’s a good notion. That’s got to be thought about. Here’s you, a rich young Englishman, looking for an investment; and here’s me, the honest miner—yes, that’s got to be thought about. Then there’s stage-coaches to be held up,—that’s a bit risky; and so is running off horses. But a man must live, and if we’ve got to do it, we’ve got to, and that’s all there is about it.”
It did not seem to occur to this honest citizen, or to Bates either, for that matter, that there was yet another way of getting money,—by working for it.
By this time the pair had finished their breakfast, and having collected their few belongings they saddled up—Percy making himself as flat as possible during the operation—and rode away.
As soon as they were safely out of sight, our scout rose to his feet and walked back to where Jack was stationed, and together they returned to the spot where I stood impatiently awaiting them.
“Well,” said our captain, when he had heard Percy’s report, “your friend Bates seems to have gotten into nice company. That is a smart fellow, that squeaky-voiced scoundrel; heguessed our plans pretty well. My original intention was to ride up the stage-road from Corinne to the town of Bozeman, in Montana; but now that we know their scheme we’ll just make a change in our own plan. They will wait for us a long time before they catch us at the bridge; we won’t go near it; we’ll go straight northward across country, leaving the road well away to our left. That fellow is right in saying that the Snake is a difficult river to cross; but we’ll find a way over somehow, never fear, even if we have to go up-stream until we get around its little end. By taking this course we shall give them the slip altogether; they will have no means of knowing what has become of us. All the same,” Jack added, impressively, “it will be well to keep our eyes open. Mr. Morgan, I suspect, would not stick at shooting any or all of us if it suited his purpose to do so. So, remember,—if you meet a short, square-built, red-haired man, with a broken nose, cock your rifle, and don’t let him get behind you. All aboard!”