It takes a good deal to startle an American Indian, but if there ever was a frightened red man it was the one who heard himself thus addressed, and, glancing like a flash to his right, saw Jack Dudley step forward, with a Winchester rifle leveled at him.
In the language of the West, the youth "had the drop" on the intruder, and he knew it. Had he attempted to raise his own weapon, or to draw his knife and assail the youth, that instant the trigger of the rifle would have been pressed and the career of the buck would have ended then and there, and he knew that, too; but the fact that the gun was not fired, and that a direct question was addressed to him, told the Indian that his master was less merciless than he would have been had their situations been reversed.
The camp-fire was still burning brightly, and the reflection showed on the painted visage. Jack, having stepped forward into the circle of light, was also plainly discerned by the Indian, who, turning his black, serpent-like eyes upon him, said, without a tremor in his voice:
"Me good Injin; me friend of white man; me no hurt him."
"It doesn't look as if you would; but what is your business? Why do you steal into our camp like a thief of the night?"
"Me hungry—want somethin' eat."
This was too transparent a subterfuge to deceive one even so unaccustomed to life in these solitudes as Jack Dudley. An Indian wandering through a country so well stocked with game as this portion of the new State of Wyoming never suffers for food; and, were such a thing possible, the present means was the last that he would adopt to procure it.
"If you want something to eat, why did you not come forward openly and ask for it?"
The fellow did not seem fully to grasp the question, but he repeated:
"Me hungry."
Jack recalled that there was not a mouthful of food in camp. Had there been, he probably would have invited the visitor to walk to the fire and partake. It was fortunate for the youth that their larder was empty, for had the two started among the trees in the direction of the camp, the opportunity for which the Indian was doubtless waiting would have been secured. There would have been an interval in the brief walk when the advantage would have been shifted to him, and he would have seized it with the quickness of lightning.
The manifest duty of Jack was to shout to Hank Hazletine and bring him to the spot. He would read the truth on the instant and do the right thing; but the situation, as the reader will admit, was peculiar, and the motive which prevented the youth from adopting this line of action was creditable to him. He believed that the moment the guide appeared he would shoot the intruder, and that was too frightful an issue for Jack to contemplate. He did not want this warrior's life, and would not take it except to save his own or that of his friends.
Jack believed that enough had been gained in thoroughly frightening the Indian, and the thing desired now was to get rid of him with the least possible delay. He did not think he would intrude again, even if he had companions within call.
"We have no food; we can give you nothing; you must go elsewhere."
"Then me go;" and, as if the business was concluded, the buck turned about and began walking toward the edge of the grove. Yielding to a whim which he did not fully understand, Jack Dudley followed him with the warning words:
"If you stop, or turn about, or make a move to shoot, I will kill you."
It is probable that the savage contemplated some movement of the kind, but he must have known the fatal risk involved. Quick as he was, he could not whirl about and bring his gun to a level before the young man would pull the trigger of the Winchester, which was held pointed toward him. He knew that so long as he obeyed orders he would be unharmed, and he would have been a zany had he hesitated to do so.
He did not hesitate, but with a deliberate step that was not lacking in a certain dignity he walked slowly between the trees, with his captor only a few paces behind and keeping pace with him.
Almost on the edge of the grove Jack Dudley made an interesting discovery. A pony, smaller than the one he had ridden from Fort Steele, stood motionless in the shadow, awaiting the return of his master. He was not tethered or tied, for he was too well-trained to make that necessary. He showed his fine training further by merely pricking his ears and elevating his head upon the approach of his master and companion. A whinny or neigh might have betrayed both.
The two were now so far removed from the glow of the camp-fire that they could see each other only dimly. There was no moon in the sky, though the stars were shining brightly. The Indian, from the force of circumstances, was compelled to hold his disadvantageous position, inasmuch as he had to move out from among the trees, while Jack remained within their shadows.
Realizing that this was a critical moment, he stood motionless, with his weapon still at a dead level.
"My gun is aimed at your heart," he said, "and I am watching every movement you make. Go in peace, and you shall not be harmed, but on your first attempt to injure me you die."
The words, perhaps, were unnecessary, for it may be said that the action of the youth was more eloquent. Be that as it may, the redskin showed a commendable promptness in all that he did. He vaulted lightly upon the bare back of his pony, whose bridle consisted of but a single thong, and turned the head of the brute outward. He did not speak, for it was not required. The pony knew what was wanted; and, with his nose pointed out on the prairie, he emerged from among the trees into the open, with the warrior astride.
Even in that trying moment Jack Dudley was surprised at one fact—that was the wonderful silence of the animal. It would seem that his hoofs should have given out sounds that could have been heard for a considerable distance in the stillness of the night, but it was as if he were treading on velvet. The noise was so faint that it was easy to understand how he had come to the spot without betraying himself to the intently listening sentinel. No wonder that the Indian ponies sometimes display a sagacity fully equal, in some respects, to that of their masters.
The Indian showed in another direction his perception of the situation. Had he been leaving the presence of one of his own race, or of a veteran white scout, he would have thrown himself forward on the back of his animal and ridden off on a dead run, for, despite the unexpected mercy shown him, he would have expected treachery at the last minute; but he had seen his master and knew that he was a young tenderfoot, inspired by a chivalrous honor which is the exception in that section of the country. He would not shoot until good cause was given, and therefore he took care not to give such cause.
As if in harmony with the spirit of his rider, the pony walked away in a direct line, until the figure of himself and master disappeared in the gloom. When he could see him no more, Jack lowered his gun, and stooping down, pressed his ear against the earth. He could hear the soft hoof-beats of the horse growing fainter and fainter, until at the end of a minute or two the impressive silence once more held reign. Then the youth arose to his feet.
"I suppose Hank will tell me I did wrong," he mused, "but my conscience does not; it would be a woeful memory to carry with me that on my first night in Wyoming I took the life of a human being. Perhaps it will be as well that Hank should not know it; I will think it over."
Now, while Jack Dudley had conducted himself in some respects like a veteran, yet he had shown a dangerous short-sightedness in another direction. It will be noted that he had busied himself wholly with the single intruder, and at the moment of losing sight of him the young man was a comparatively long distance from the camp-fire. Had it been that there were two or more hostiles stealing into camp, they could not have asked a better opportunity, for it was left wholly unguarded. A single warrior would have had no trouble in creeping undiscovered to a point from which he could have sent a bullet through the unconscious forms of Hank Hazletine and Fred Greenwood. This probability never occurred to Jack until he started on his return to the fire, from whose immediate vicinity he should never have allowed himself to have been tempted.
Even then his strange remissness would not have impressed itself upon him but for a startling discovery. The fire was beginning to smoulder once more, but enough of its glare penetrated the wood for him to note the black, column-like trunks of the trees between it and him. With his gaze upon the central point, he saw a figure moving in the path of light and coming toward him. It looked as if stamped in ink against the yellow background, and, like the former intruder, was advancing without noise.
An awful fear thrilled Jack Dudley as he abruptly halted and partly raised his Winchester.
"While I have been busy with one Indian, another has entered the camp and slain Fred and Hank! He is now after me! There will be no hesitationthistime in my shooting!"
Before he could secure anything like an aim, the other stepped behind one of the trunks on his right. Jack waited for him to reappear, ready to fire, but unwilling to do so until the truth was established.
While waiting thus, a low, faint, tremulous whistle reached his ears. It was the most welcome of all sounds, and raised him from the depths of woe to blissful happiness, for it was the familiar signal of Fred Greenwood that had been employed many times in their hunting excursions nearer home.
Instead of an enemy, it was his chum and dearest friend who was approaching him. Jack instantly answered the guarded hail, and the next minute the two came together.
"How is it you are awake?" was the first question of Jack.
"Because it istimefor me to awake; it was agreed that I should go on duty at a little after twelve, and it must be near one o'clock."
"But what awoke you?"
"Nonsense! Haven't you and I travelled together long enough to know that when you go to sleep with your mind fixed on a certain time to awake you are sure not to miss it by more than a few minutes?"
"You are right; I had forgotten that. How was it you knew where to look for me?"
"I didn't. I've been prowling around camp for fifteen minutes, groping here and there and signaling to you, without the first inkling of where you were. I didn't want to awake Hank, and therefore was as careful as I could be. I began to suspect you had sat down somewhere and fallen asleep."
"I have had enough to keep the most drowsy person awake."
And thereupon Jack gave the particulars of all that had occurred while he was acting as sentinel. It need not be said that Fred Greenwood was astonished, for the manner of their guide before lying down convinced them that no danger of any nature threatened them.
"Do you think I acted right, Fred?"
"Most certainly you did. Hank and the like of him out in this country talk about shooting down an Indian as if he were not a human being, but they have souls like the rest of us, and we have no more right to take the life of one of them than I have to take yours. I am sure I should have done just as you did."
"I am glad to hear you say that. I wonder whether, if we stayed out here a few years, our feelings would change?"
"No; for the principle of right and wrong cannot change. Do you remember what that old settler told us on the train, a couple of days ago?"
"I do not recall it."
"He said that at a little town in Montana they had a great moral question under debate for a long time without being able to decide it. It was whether it was wicked for the men to go out hunting for Indians on Sunday. It was all right on week days, but most of the folks seemed to think it was a violation of the sanctity of the day to indulge in the sport on the Sabbath. But, Jack, you are tired and in need of sleep. I'll take charge of matters until two o'clock."
"I wonder whether anything will happen to you? It does not seem likely, for I must have given that fellow such a scare that he will not show himself again."
"But you mustn't reason on the basis that he is the only red man in Wyoming. However, I shall do my best. Good-night."
Thus summarily dismissed, Jack returned to the camp-fire in quest of the slumber which he needed. Fred had thrown additional wood on the blaze, and that accounted for the increase in illumination. Hank Hazletine did not seem to have stirred since lying down. He breathed heavily, and doubtless was gaining the rest which men of his habits and training know how to acquire under the most unfavorable circumstances. The youth wrapped his blanket about his figure, for he was now sensible that the air was colder than at any time since leaving the railway station. He was nervous over the recollection of his experience, though it would have been deemed of slight importance to one who had spent his life in the West. The feeling soon passed off, however, and he joined the veteran in the land of dreams.
And thus the burden of responsibility was shifted to the shoulders of Fred Greenwood, the junior by a few months of Jack Dudley. No one could have been more deeply impressed with his responsibility than Fred. He knew that a hostile red man had entered the grove while two of the party were asleep, and, but for the watchfulness of the sentinel, might have slain all three.
"I don't know much about Indians," reflected Fred, "but I have been told that they are a revengeful people. That fellow must be angered because he was outwitted by Jack, and it will be just like him to steal back for the purpose of revenge. It won't do for me to wink both eyes at the same time."
This was a wise resolution, and the youth took every precaution against committing what was likely to be a fatal mistake. Although his sleep was broken, and he could have consumed several hours additional with enjoyment, he was never more wide-awake. The temptation was strong to sit down on the ground with his back against a tree, but he foresaw the consequences. The man who yields only for a few minutes to the creeping drowsiness is gone.
Fred was more circumspect, even, than his chum. Instead of taking his position beside the trunk of one of the trees, he walked silently around in a circle, keeping the camp-fire as a centre. By this means he not only kept his senses keyed to a high point, but made his espionage nearer perfect than his friend had done.
That the night was not to pass without a stirring experience to the younger lad was soon evident. As nearly as he could guess, without consulting his watch, it was about one o'clock, when he became aware that some person or animal was astir in the grove. He heard the faint footfalls on the ground, though for a time he was unable to catch so much as a shadowy glimpse of the intruder.
"I believe it is that Indian, who has come back to square accounts with Jack for getting the better of him. The wisest thing for me to do is to not allow him to see me."
This was wise; and, to prevent such a disaster, Fred adopted the precise tactics that had been used by his friend. He stationed himself beside a friendly trunk, which so interposed between himself and the fire that he was invisible, no matter from what direction approached. Standing thus, he peered into the surrounding gloom and listened with all the intensity of which he was capable.
Suddenly he caught a glimpse of the intruder. The relief was unspeakable when he saw that it was not an Indian, but some kind of a wild animal. It was but a short distance off, and between him and the outer edge of the grove.
There being no one to replenish the fire, the light had grown dimmer, but a quick, shadowy flitting told Fred the brute was moving briskly about, only a few paces from where the lad was straining his vision to learn its nature.
"We might as well wind up this business," reflected Fred, as, with his hand on the trigger of his Winchester, he started abruptly in the direction of the stranger. The latter was quick to perceive him and whisked away. The lad followed, breaking into a trot despite the intervening trees. The beast continued fleeing, for nothing so disconcerts an animal as the threatening approach of a foe.
It was but a few paces to the edge of the timber, when the brute leaped out into full view in the star-gleam.
One glance was sufficient for the youth to recognize it as an immense wolf, which had probably been drawn to the spot by the odor of the meat that composed the dinner of the party. Fifty feet off the wolf stopped, turned partly about, and looked back at his pursuer, as if to learn whether he intended to follow him farther.
Fred did not, but the opportunity was too good to be lost. The aim was inviting, and, bringing his rifle to his shoulder, he sighted as best he could and pulled the trigger. He could not have done better had the sun been shining. The bullet passed directly through the skull of the wolf, which uttered a sharp yelp, leaped several feet into the air, and, doubling up like a jack-knife, fell upon his side, where, after several convulsive struggles, he lay still.
Naturally enough, the boy was elated over his success, for the shot was certainly an excellent one.
"There!" he said. "Jack frightened off the Indians, and I think I have given the wild animals a good lesson. At any rate,youwon't bother us any more."
He supposed that the report of the gun would awaken Hazletine and bring him to the spot to learn the explanation, but nothing of that nature followed. If the report disturbed him, he merely opened and closed his eyes, and continued to slumber, after the manner of one who appreciates the value of rest.
In truth, it was always a matter of wonderment to the boys that their veteran guide adopted the course he followed that night. That actual danger impended was proven by the incidents already narrated, and yet he entrusted the safety of one of the boys, as well as his own life, to another, who, until then, had never been in a similar position. Why he did so would be hard to explain, but he never admitted that his course was a mistake. Sometimes, as is well known, a boy is taught to swim by flinging him into deep water, where he must choose between keeping afloat and drowning; and it may be the guide believed that, by tossing his young friends into the midst of danger at the very beginning of their experience as Western hunters, they would acquire the needed skill the more quickly.
One of the singular features connected with the experience of our young friends during the first night they spent in Wyoming was that all the danger which threatened them came from one Indian and from onelupus. After Jack Dudley had expelled the prowling buck, the intruder took good care to remain away. Neither he nor any of his companions troubled the campers further. The presumption, therefore, was that this solitary specimen was a "dog Indian," or vagrant, wandering over the country on his own account. Such fellows, as already explained, claim no kinship with any tribe, but are, like the tramps of civilized society, agents for themselves alone.
Had the season been winter, with the snow deep on the ground, the trouble from the wolves would have been more serious. Those gaunt creatures, when goaded by hunger, become exceedingly daring, and do not hesitate to attack even armed bodies of men; but it was autumn time, when the ravenous brutes, who seem always to be hungry, find the least difficulty in procuring food, and they remained true to their cowardly disposition and refrained from everything in the nature of true courage.
The curious fact, as we have remarked, was that, as in the case of the Indian, only a single wolf intruded upon the little company. The animals generally travel in droves, and when one is seen it is quite safe to count upon a dozen, or a score, or even more. It is possible that the victim of Fred Greenwood's Winchester was also a sort of tramp, prospecting for his own benefit. It is more likely, however, that he was what might be considered a scout or advance agent of others. His pack was probably waiting among the foot-hills for him to return with his report. If so, the report is now considerably overdue.
Fred was a model sentinel for the remaining hours that he continued on duty. He continued circling about the camp-fire, silent, stealthy, peering here and there, and listening for the first evidence of danger. Nothing of the kind was seen or heard, and he finally came back to the smouldering fire and looked at the face of his watch.
Could it be possible? It lacked a few minutes of three o'clock. According to agreement, he should have called Hazletine an hour before.
"I don't suppose he will object," said Fred, aloud; "I'm sure I shouldn't, if allowed to sleep an hour beyond my time——"
"I ain't doing any kicking, am I?"
Looking around, he saw the guide had flung aside his blanket and was sitting erect, with a quizzical expression on his face.
"What made you fire your gun 'bout two hours ago?" he asked.
"Did you hear me?"
"How'd I know if I hadn't heard it?" was the pertinent question.
"A wolf was sneaking among the trees. I followed him out to the edge of the timber and let him have it between the eyes."
"Did you hurt him?"
"Since he flopped over and died, I have reason to believe hewashurt."
"Good! That's the style—always to shoot. Never waste your ammunition. You didn't kill any Injins?"
"I saw none at all."
Hank looked at the unconscious figure of Jack Dudley.
"Wonder how it was with him?"
"He did not fire his gun at anything."
Fred did not wish to tell his friend about that alarming visit earlier in the evening. That was Jack's concern.
"But he may have seed something. Howsumever, we can wait till morning. Wal, younker, if you've no 'bjection you can lay down and snooze till morning. I go on duty now."
There was vast comfort in this knowledge. It relieved the youth from the last remnant of anxiety, and he lost no time in abandoning himself to slumber. The man who was now acting as sentinel was a past master at the art, and there need be no misgiving while he was on duty. Thus it came about that neither Jack Dudley nor Fred Greenwood opened his eyes until the sun was shining into the grove.
Each had had a refreshing night, but it cannot be said that their awakening was of the most pleasant nature. The hunger that had been twice satisfied the day before was not to be compared to that which now got hold of them. With the insatiate craving was the knowledge that there was not a scrap of meat, a crumb of bread nor a drop of milk in camp.
"We can fill up on water," remarked Jack, after they had bathed faces and hands and quaffed their fill.
"But what good will that do? We might bubble over, but we should be just as hungry as ever."
"It seems to me that when a fellow is chock-full of anything he oughtn't to feel much hunger."
"I've often thought that, but you can't fool nature that way."
"If it gets any worse we can shoot the ponies and devour them."
"Why both of them?"
"Because it would take a whole one to satisfy me. I don't know howyoufeel, Jack, but if we are to have appetites like this I shall go in for buying a drove of cattle and spending the few weeks we have in these parts in eating."
The youths looked in each other's face and laughed. Truly they were ahungered, but could never quite lose their waggishness.
"I wonder what's become of Hank," suddenly exclaimed Fred, looking beside and behind them; "the fire is nearly burned out, and he is nowhere in sight.Halloo!"
The hail was uttered in a loud voice, and was responded to, but from a point a considerable distance out upon the prairie, in the direction of the foot-hills. The open nature of the wood permitted the boys to see quite clearly in that direction.
"Yonder he comes," said Jack.
"And, by gracious, he's carrying something on his shoulders. I wonder if it is that Indian you chatted with last night."
"Better than that. It'ssomething to eat!"
Jack Dudley was right. The guide was laden with the carcass of some animal. Its bulk was proof that he possessed an accurate idea of the appetite of these young gentlemen.
"How careless in him to leave us thus alone," remarked Fred, with mock reproof.
"Do you wish he hadn't done so?"
"Don't name it!" exclaimed Fred, with a shudder; "he knew the only way of saving our lives. It wouldn't have done for him to postpone it another hour."
Hank Hazletine was never more welcome than when he entered the grove and let fall from his shoulders the carcass of a half-grown calf, plump, juicy, tender, and in the best of condition.
"I don't s'pose you care much 'bout it, but I feel like having something worth while for breakfast," he remarked, proceeding to prepare the coals, for he had dressed the veal before starting on his return.
"Well," said Fred, with assumed indifference, "I suspect that since you intend to partake of food yourself, we may as well join you for the sake of sociability."
Men like the old hunter are adepts at preparing a meal. The smouldering fire was in good condition for broiling, and when raked apart afforded a bed of live coals, over which generous slices were suspended on green twigs, cut from the nearest trees. It took but a few minutes to prepare the meat. Hank always carried with him a box of mixed pepper and salt, whose contents were sprinkled over the toothsome food, of which the three ate their fill.
"Are there any more of these animals left in the neighborhood?" asked Jack, when their appetites were fully satisfied.
"S'pose you go out on the edge of the timber and larn for yourselves."
The lads followed the suggestion. Looking off in the direction of the Wind River Mountains, it seemed to them that tens of thousands of cattle were browsing among the foot-hills and on the grassy plain, while many more must have been beyond sight. This was one of the choicest regions of Wyoming, so widely celebrated for its grazing facilities.
It was an impressive sight, and the boys, each of whom was provided with a good spy-glass, surveyed the scene for some minutes in wondering silence. The cattle were several miles distant, and seemed to be brown, undulating hummocks of dirt, kept in constant motion by some force beneath. On the outer fringe they were more scattered, but were constantly moving, as if the pasturage was so excellent that they were continually tempted to give up that which was good for that which looked better.
"Are they left wholly to themselves?" asked Fred, as the youths came back to where the guide was saddling his pony.
"No. There are always two or three men looking after them. I seed Bart Coinjock, one of our own cowboys, 'tending our animals, and he told me to take my ch'ice from the lot. You mustn't forgit that we're purty close to the Wind River Injin Reservation, where the Government has several tribes under charge."
This was news to the boys. Hazletine explained that a large tract of land to the northwest and close to the mountains had been set apart some years before by the United States Government for exclusive occupancy by several tribes of Indians. They owned the land, and no white man had the right to intrude upon them.
In the Southwest, where the Apaches were placed on reservations, there had been the most frightful trouble, for those Indians are the worst in North America. All our readers know how many times the fierce Geronimo and a few of his hostiles broke away from their reservation, and, riding swiftly through Arizona and New Mexico, spread desolation, woe and death in their path. Not until Geronimo and his worst bucks were run down in old Mexico and transported bodily to the East was the danger to the Southwest terminated.
Nothing of the kind has taken place in Wyoming, Montana, the Dakotas and other reservations further east, but there is always a certain number of malcontents on the reservations who cause trouble. They steal away unnoticed by the authorities, and engage in thieving, and, when the chances are favorable against detection, commit graver crimes.
"That Injin that come into the timber last night was a sort of dog Injin that had come down from the Wind River Reservation to find out what he could steal."
The boys looked at each other in astonishment. They had made no reference to the visitor in the hearing of the guide, and could not understand where he had gained his knowledge. He noticed their surprise, and smiled.
"I seed the tracks of his pony, as well as his own. It was as plain to me as the words of a printed book. Why didn't you shoot the chap?"
Thus appealed to, Jack told the story. Hazletine listened with an expression of amused contempt on his bearded face.
"You'll git over that afore you've been here long. I think I know who he was. Tell me how he looked."
Jack was able to give a good description of his visitor, and before it was finished the guide nodded his head several times.
"It was him, Motoza, one of the worst scamps west of the Mississippi."
"What do you suppose he was after?"
"He'll steal anything he can lay his hands on. If he'd found us all asleep he'd shot every one of us. That's the kind of a feller Motoza is. You played it well on him, catching him as you did, but you'd played it a hanged sight better if you'd put a bullet through him afore you asked any questions."
"What tribe does he belong to?"
"That's a queer part of it. Gin'rally it's easy to tell from the dress, paint and style of an Injin what his tribe or totem is, but there's nothing of the kind 'bout Motoza to guide you. I think he's a Sioux."
"I understood those red men live further to the eastward."
"So they do; but Motoza has wandered from his people. He was under Sitting Bull, and went with him into British America when it got too hot on this side of the line; but Sitting Bull come back, and Motoza follered. He tries to make b'leve he's a good Injin, and sometimes he is for months at a time on the reservation. Then the devil gits into him, and he's off somewhere."
While this conversation was going on the three had mounted their ponies and were galloping northward, this time trending to the right, so as to draw away from the mountains and follow an almost direct line to Bowman's ranch, their destination. The animals were so fresh and spirited that Hazletine said he was hopeful of sleeping that night in the ranch itself, as he called the low, flat building where he and several cowmen made their home when in that part of the country attending to their duties.
It would take hard riding, and would lead them into the night to accomplish the long journey, but the guide saw no reason why it should not be done. If a storm came up—and they break with amazing suddenness at times in that part of the world—or if any mishap befell their ponies, a stop would have to be made for the night before reaching the ranch.
Jack Dudley decided to ask a question that had been in his mind for some time.
"Hank, that Indian last night was in my power, and he knew it as well as I, but I spared his life and allowed him to ride away without a hair of his head harmed. Now, don't you think he will feel some gratitude for that?"
Hazletine threw back his head with uproarious laughter. He seemed to have heard the best joke of a twelvemonth.
"What give you that idee?" he asked, when he succeeded in mastering his exuberant mirth.
"Why, the event itself. I know that an Indian is revengeful by nature, but I have always believed that he was capable of gratitude for kindness."
"You've read that in story-books, but you never seed it in life. I won't be quite as rough as that," added the guide, in the same breath; "I have seen a redskin that didn't furgit that a man had saved him from dying or being shot, but such redskins are as scarce as hen's teeth. The rule is that they take all such kindnesses as signs of cowardice, and despise the one that shows 'em. Let me tell you something that I know," continued Hazletine, seriously. "Three years ago, when I was down in Arizona, Jim Huber was the owner of the ranch where I was working. He b'leved in treating Injins kindly. I've seen him give the 'Paches water to drink when they was thirsty, meat to eat, 'bacca to smoke, and even powder and ball for their guns. He kept that up right along, and when he was warned agin it, he said an Injin was human like the rest of us, and he was willing to take his chances. The 'Paches wouldn't furgit what he'd done fur 'em.
"Wal, they didn't. The fust thing we knowed, Geronimo and a dozen of his devils was off their reservation and coming down through them parts like a Kansas cyclone. It happened that me and the boys was several miles off when we heerd the news, and knowing that Huber was alone at the ranch, we rid like all mad fur the place. We got there too late to save him. The ranch was on fire, and he was mangled so we hardly knowed him. But he had died game, and killed two of the 'Paches afore he went under. The three laid aside one another, and the two Injins was the very ones that had set at his table, eat of his food, been given powder and ball, and been treated like brothers."
"Are all red men as bad as that?"
"I've just said they wasn't. There's lots of 'em that would make an ordinary white man ashamed of himself. But most of 'em are alike. What I'm driving at is to knock out of your head any idee that this Motoza that you let up on last night thinks any more of you for it. It's t'other way. He despises you fur a coward, and if he ever gits the chance he'll prove what I say is true."
This was depressing information for the youths, but they did not think it seeming to express any doubts of the sentiments of one who was so much better informed than they. They hoped that their own experience would be of a different nature.
Having set out with the intention of reaching the ranch that evening, the guide had made the necessary preparations. He rolled up enough cooked pieces of veal to avert the need of starting another fire and looking for more food. So it came about that when the boys began to consult their watches and hint of it being near meal time, he drew rein at another stream of water, where the ponies were allowed to rest and graze while their masters refreshed themselves. The animals had been pressed as much as was prudent; and Hazletine, looking at the sky and their surroundings, said they were making better progress than he had counted upon.
The weather remained all that could be desired, though he assured them that a heavy rain-storm was impending, and would break within twenty-four hours—an additional incentive for pushing forward.
They were hardly ever out of sight of cattle. Sometimes they were few in numbers, and then they suggested the droves of buffaloes, which, before the animals were extirpated, numbered hundreds of thousands. Once the horsemen approached so close that the cattle were frightened and a partial stampede followed. That Hazletine was among acquaintances was proved by the hails which he received from cowmen, most of whom were so distant that the wonder was how they recognized one another. The boys studied them through their spy-glasses, but, of course, all were strangers to them.
When the afternoon was about half gone they came upon a stream that looked formidable. It was a hundred yards in width, with a roiled and rapid current, which, so far as the eye could determine, might be a score of feet in depth. The prospect of having to swim their ponies across was anything but pleasant, but the boys saw that a well-marked trail led down to the bank where they approached it, showing that it had been crossed and recrossed many times.
"There are places in that stream, which flows into the Platte," said the guide, "where it is a hundred feet deep. It has whirlpools and eddies where the best swimmer couldn't save himself, and even a grizzly bear would drown."
"I hope those places are a good way off," said Jack.
"There's one of 'em right over there to the left."
"How are we going to reach the other side?" asked Fred, in dismay.
"Foller me."
As he spoke the guide spurred his animal into the muddy water, with the boys timidly at his heels and closely watching him.
At no time during the fording did the ponies sink above their knees. It was a surprise and vast relief when they rode out on the other side without having been compelled to draw up their feet during the passage.
"And yet," explained their companion, "if you'd gone three yards to the right or left your critters would have had to swim for their lives, and you'd have had the worst soaking you ever knowed. Now fur the ranch!"
The night was well advanced, and the boys, despite their fine physique, felt the effects of the prolonged ride. They had come a goodly distance since morning, the tough little ponies most of the time maintaining a sweeping canter, which placed many miles behind them. Jack and Fred were stiffened, tired and hungry, for no halt was made for supper, it being the intention of the guide to take that meal at the ranch, which he meant to reach before drawing rein.
In the midst of the monotonous gallop of the animals the youths were startled by the sound of a laugh, which suddenly rang out on the still air. It was brief and hearty, such as a man emits who is highly pleased over something said by a companion. There was no moon in the sky, but the starlight was as bright as on the previous evening. Peering ahead in the gloom, nothing was to be seen that explained the singular sound.
"Did you hear that?" asked Jack of Hazletine.
"I s'pose you mean that laugh? Not being deaf, it would have been cur'us if the same hadn't reached my ears."
"What was the meaning of it?"
"It meant, I s'pose, that somebody was pleased."
The lads had to be satisfied with this indefinite answer, but they did not have to wait long for the explanation. Suddenly, from the obscurity ahead, loomed the outlines of a building. It was long, low, and flat, consisting of a single story, like most of the structures in that section of the country.
At the same moment that it was observed, a tiny point of light shone through the gloom, and some one called to them:
"Is that you, Hank?"
"I reckon," was the reply.
At the same moment a tall man, rising from the stool on which he had been seated, came forward. He was smoking a pipe, and the gleam of the fire in the bowl was what had been noted before he became visible.
"These are the younkers we expected," explained Hazletine, "and, if I ain't mistook, they've brought a purty healthy appetite with 'em."
"I've heard of such things afore. Howdy?"
The man, who was known as "Kansas Jim," his full name being James Denham, extended his hand to each boy in turn, and they dismounted.
"I'll look after the animals," he explained. "Go inside, and I reckon Ira can give you some medicine fur that appetite Hank spoke about."
Hazletine led the way to the small covered porch where Ira Garrison, another cattleman, rose to his feet and shook hands with the boys, expressing his pleasure at receiving a visit from them. All three of the arrivals sat down at the front, while Ira passed inside and lighted an oil-lamp. It seemed that he was not absent ten minutes when he called out that the meal was ready—a most welcome announcement to our young friends. The three were quickly seated at the pine table and feasting with keen enjoyment. While they were thus engaged, Ira Garrison sat on a stool a few paces away, smoking his pipe, and was soon joined by Kansas Jim, who brought the saddles and belongings of the ponies that he had turned loose to look after their own wants.
Jack and Fred found their new acquaintances typical cowboys, dressed similarly to Hazletine, though neither wore as much beard as he. Both had long hair, pushed behind their ears, while Jim displayed a luxuriant tawny mustache and goatee, had fine blue eyes, and was thin almost to emaciation. Garrison was short and stockily built, with a powerful physique. His hair, eyes and mustache were as black as coal. He had a fine set of even white teeth, and was so full of jest and humor that it was safe to conclude it was something said by him that had caused Jim to break into laughter.
The structure, as has been said, was a low, flat building, similar to the majority found in that part of the country. It was made wholly of wood, with only a single door at the front, where was a shaded porch, provided with seats, most of which were occupied at times by the cowmen through the day and late into the night.
There were five men employed at the ranch in looking after the immense herd of cattle grazing over the surrounding country and acquiring the plumpness and physical condition which fitted them for the Eastern market. Hank Hazletine was in charge of the four men, and would so remain until the task was finished and the stock disposed of. Barton Coinjock and Morton Blair were absent looking after the animals, whose wanderings in quest of food sometimes took them fifteen or twenty miles from the house. Most of the time, however, the cattle obtained their grazing on the ranch, a half of which belonged to Mr. Dudley, and which extended into the foot-hills of the Wind River Mountains.
It has already been made clear that little was to be apprehended from the hostility of the red men in Wyoming. Rarely is anything of the kind known north of Arizona and New Mexico, and in those Territories it seldom manifests itself since the conquest of the Apaches. There have been fierce collisions of late years between the cowmen and rustlers of the West, and at one time there was considerable bloodshed, but the quarrel seems to have been adjusted.
The reader need hardly be told that in the new States, where grazing has become so important an industry, a perfect system prevails among the cattlemen. Large associations, with their enormous herds of cattle, have their own peculiar brands by which their stock is stamped with their sign of ownership. All these brands are registered, and the cattleman who uses the same, or is found in possession of cattle with the brand of another, is subject to a severe penalty.
Comparatively slight friction, therefore, takes place in those sections. It is a stirring time when the wonderful horsemen are engaged for days in branding the calves that have been added to their herds during the previous months. Sometimes some of the branded cattle wander off while grazing, but if a cattleman from Central Wyoming came upon an animal hundreds of miles north in Montana, bearing his brand, he would promptly cut out the brute from another herd, whose owner would not think of making objection.
It happens now and then that some of the cattle stray off before they are branded. The difficulty of their owners identifying them will be understood. Such cattle are mavericks, and whoever comes upon them loses little time in scorching his brand into their shoulders or hips, after which no one cares to dispute their ownership.
The cowmen whose duty it was to look after the large herd browsing over the thousands of acres composing Bowman's ranch had two annoyances to guard against. It was their duty, as may be said, to keep the animals well in hand. But for this precaution hundreds of them would gradually drift apart until, when the time came for rounding them up, they would be gone beyond recovery. Great loss, therefore, was averted by looking after them.
A more aggravating annoyance, however, brings loss to the owners of the herds. Despite the stringent law, there is always a certain number of desperate men who take perilous chances in stealing cattle and running them off beyond recovery by their owners. This practice is not so prevalent as formerly, for since the brands are registered, and the agents well known at Cheyenne, Helena, and other shipping-points, the thieves find it hard to explain their possession of the carcasses thus marked and escape the arrest and imprisonment provided as a penalty.
One feature of this annoyance comes from the Indians. By far the greater majority of those on the reservations are law-abiding. Under the patient and skilful tutorship of the Government agents they are advancing in civilization, and in a knowledge of the trades and of agriculture. Rarely is there any trouble with them; but it would be strange indeed if, among these people not yet fairly emerged from barbarism, there were not a number sullen because of the change, and who cling to the traditions and practices when the Indian looked upon every white man as his enemy, whom it was his duty to kill upon the first opportunity. The watchfulness of the authorities prevents grave crimes, but no vigilance can keep the dusky thieves from stealthily raiding upon the cattle and property of their white neighbors.
One of the tasks, therefore, of the cowmen of Bowman's ranch was to guard against aboriginal thieves. Since those fellows were sure to have the same trouble as white pilferers in disposing of their stolen stock, they were fond of stampeding the cattle when not under the eyes of their caretakers. About all that resulted from this amusement was extra exasperation and work on the part of the cowmen.
A more serious mischief was that of killing the animals. Having satisfied themselves that they were safe from detection, three or four Indians would entertain themselves for an hour or two in shooting down cattle in pure wantonness, and then making off before they were seen. True, this brought the dusky scamps no gain, but it served as a partial outlet for their enmity of the white man, and that sufficed.
That this peculiar feature of ranch life sometimes assumed grave phases was proved by several narrations made by the cowmen to the boys on their first night at the ranch. Less than a year previous, Kansas Jim shot from his horse an Indian whom he caught killing his cattle; and, not many months previous, the five cowmen, under the leadership of Hank Hazletine, had a running fight for half an afternoon with a dozen Bannocks, engaged in the same sport. At that time Barton Coinjock and Kansas Jim were severely wounded, but three of the marauders were slain, and the mischief nearly ended for a time.
But Jack and Fred were tired, and, though interested in the reminiscences of the cowboys, they longed for rest. The house consisted of four rooms, one being generally reserved for visitors or to serve as a spare apartment. This contained a wooden bedstead and some simple furniture, for luxuries are not popular on cattle-ranches. Surely no bed ever felt more luxurious, however, than the blankets upon which the wearied youths flung themselves, sinking almost immediately into deep, dreamless sleep. There were no wolves or dog Indians to guard against now, and their sense of security was as strong as if in their own beds at home.
The night was well past, when both lads were awakened by the sound of rain pattering upon the roof, which, although they were on the ground floor, was but a brief space above their heads. The storm foretold by Hank Hazletine had come.
There are few sounds more soothing at night than the falling of rain-drops upon the shingles over one's head, but in the present instance the music was anything but welcome to Jack and Fred. It meant that there could be no hunting on the morrow, and probably not for several days. Their time in Wyoming was so limited that they begrudged an hour of enforced idleness.
"But what's the use of kicking?" asked Fred, after they had fully discussed the situation; "it can't be helped."
Nevertheless, they condoled with each other for some time, until, lulled by the gentle patter, they floated off once more into the land of Nod, from which they did not emerge until morning.
The first doleful fact that impressed them was that it was still raining. A peep through the single front window with which their room was provided showed the dull leaden sky, with its infinite reservoir, from which the drops were descending in streams that bid fair to last for days and weeks. The air was chilly, and the wood fire burning in the adjoining room was grateful.
The boys were surprised by a characteristic fact. At some time previous to their emerging from their sleeping-room Jim and Ira had departed to take their turn in looking after the cattle, while Bart and Mort, as they were called, had come in to spend the day and night at the building. When they saw the boys they greeted them pleasantly and conversed for some time. Blair showed himself a man of education, and it came out afterward that he was a college graduate, who, having been threatened with pulmonary trouble, had gone to Arizona and engaged in the cattle business. The experiment wrought a cure, and he was now one of the sturdiest of the five men, not afraid to face the more rigorous climate of the North and to expose himself to all sorts of weather. It was a surprise, indeed, to Jack Dudley and Fred Greenwood, in the course of the day, when the conversation happened to drift to the subject of higher mathematics, to find this cowboy could give them instruction in the most abstruse problems they had ever attempted to solve. Thus, although they would have preferred to be away on a hunt, they found the time less monotonous than anticipated.
"This will let up afore night," said Hank, much to the delight of his young visitors, "and to-morrow will be clear."
"I hope it will last several days," ventured Fred.
"So it will," remarked the cowman, with that air of assurance which showed he was more reliable than the Government in his forecasts of the weather.
Hazletine examined the Winchester repeating-rifles of the boys with great care. He pronounced them excellent weapons, as were the Smith & Wesson revolvers with which they were furnished.
"Your outfit is all right," he said, "but it remains to be seed whether you know how to handle 'em."
"We cannot claim to be skilful," was the modest remark of Jack, "but we have had some experience at home, though when we hunted there it was mostly with shotguns."
"The main thing, younker, is not to git rattled. Now, if you happen to see old Ephraim sailing for you, all you have to do is to make your aim sure and let him have it between the eyes, or just back of the foreleg; or, if you don't have the chance to do that, plug him in the chest, where there's a chance of reaching his heart."
By "old Ephraim" the hunter referred to the grizzly bear, as the boys knew.
"I have heard that it generally takes several shots to kill a grizzly."
"That's 'cause the bullets are not put in the right place. You see, old Ephraim don't take any trouble to give you a better show than he has to, and you must look out fur yourself."
"There are other kinds of bears in Wyoming?"
"Rather—several of 'em. For instance, there's the cinnamon, which, in my 'pinion, is about as bad as Ephraim. I've fit both kinds, and the one that left that big scar down the side of my cheek and chawed a piece out of my thigh was a cinnamon, while I never got a scratch that 'mounted to anything from Ephraim."
"What about the black bear?"
"He's less dangerous than any of 'em. A black bear ain't much more than a big dog. Last fall I killed one with my revolver."
"What other kinds of game are we likely to meet?"
"Wal, it would be hard to name 'em all. There's the deer and antelope, of course, which you find in all parts of the West. Then there's the mountain lion, that is fond of living on beef."
"I never saw one of the creatures."
"Have you ever seen the Eastern panther?" asked Garrison.
"No; though they used to be plentiful in the northern part of the State of New York."
"Well, the mountain lion is the same animal. Our climate and conditions have made some changes in his appearance and habits, but there is no doubt the two are identical."
"There's one kind of game that I wish we could meet," resumed Hazletine, "but they've got so scarce that I haven't seen one fur three years. That's the big-horn sheep."
"He seems to be disappearing from certain sections, like the buffalo from the country," remarked Garrison.
"There's plenty of 'em in the mountains of Arizona and old Mexico, and I've no doubt there's thousands of 'em in the Wind River and other parts of the Rockies, but it's mighty hard to find 'em. Then there's the black wolf."
"Is he fiercer than the gray one?"
"He's ten times worse. Whenever he meets the gray wolf he tears him to smithereens. You never seen a wolf of any kind that wasn't as hungry as you younkers was yesterday."
"He couldn't be any hungrier," said Fred, with a laugh.
"I have knowed one of them critters to foller a steamboat down the upper Missouri fur two days and nights, howling and watching fur a chance to git something to eat."
"The buffaloes have disappeared."
"The right name of the animal is the bison," suggested Garrison; "they have been slaughtered in pure wantonness. It is a crime, the way in which they have been extirpated."
"There are a few of 'em left, deep among the mountains," said Hazletine, "where no one has happened to find 'em, but it won't be long afore they'll all be wiped out. Do you know," he added, indignantly, "that last year our boys found a herd of eighteen buffaloes some miles back in the mountains. Wal, sir, we was that tickled that we made up our minds to watch 'em and see that they wasn't interfered with. We kept track of 'em purty well till their number had growed to twenty-four. Then one afternoon a party of gentlemen hunters, as they called themselves, from the States, stumbled onto 'em. Wal, as true as I'm a settin' here, they s'rounded that herd and never stopped shooting till they killed every one of 'em!"
The cowman was so angry that he smoked savagely at his pipe for a minute in silence. His friends shared his feelings, and Kansas Jim remarked:
"Hank and me hunted two days fur them folks, and if we'd have got the chance to draw bead on 'em not all of 'em would have got home. Why, the rapscallions just shot the whole twenty-four, and left 'em laying on the ground. They didn't even take their hides. If there ever was such a thing as murder that was."
"Yes," assented Garrison; "and although the Government is doing all it can to protect the few in Yellowstone Park, somebody is continually shooting into the herd. The bison will soon be an extinct animal."
"It's too bad, but I don't see that we can help it," observed Hazletine, rousing himself; "there's plenty of other game left, and it'll last longer than any of us, but it don't make the killing of the buffaloes any better. We're likely to find a good many animals that I haven't told you 'bout and that I don't think of."
"How is it, Hank, that you don't keep any dogs?"
"'Cause they're no use. The hunters from the East seem to think they must have a dozen or more sniffing at their heels, but I don't like 'em. We had a big hound a couple of years ago that I took with me on a hunt. The first critter we scared up was a cinnamon bear, and that dog hadn't any more sense than to go straight for him. Wal," grinned Hank, "we haven't had any dog since that time."
It was an ideal day for hunting among the mountains. The sun shone from an unclouded sky, and the air had just enough crispness to make exercise enjoyable. In short, it was a perfect copy of that day which saw the V. W. W. start from Fort Steele on their long ride northward to Bowman's ranch.
The other cowmen would have been glad to join in the hunt, but they could not be spared from duty. Thus it came about that, as in the first instance, Hank Hazletine was the guide and only companion of Jack Dudley and Fred Greenwood on that which was destined to prove the most memorable hunt of their lives.
The three had ridden briskly through a part of the foot-hills until they reached the more elevated portion, when the hunter led the way up a winding trail until, early in the afternoon, they arrived at what may be called the limit of "horse navigation," which is to say their ponies could give them no more help, since the way was too broken for them to climb further.
Accordingly the three dismounted and removed all the trappings of the animals. Hazletine was so familiar with the country that he came to this favored spot without mistake or hesitation. It was a broad, irregular inclosure, in the form of a grassy plateau, where grass grew abundantly, and was walled in on nearly every side by immense rocks and boulders. A tiny stream of icy water wound along one side, disappearing at a corner among the rocks, which were so craggy and eccentric in their formation that a cavity or partial cavern was found, in which the party placed their bridles, saddles and blankets, and which was capable of giving them shelter against the most furiously driving rain-storm.
"Surely we couldn't have found a better spot if we had hunted for a month," said Jack, admiringly surveying their surroundings.
"This is to be our headquarters," explained Hazletine, "during the few days or the week that we spend in hunting here."
"You mean that we are to spend each night in this place?"
The guide nodded his head.
"I don't know of any better arrangement," said Fred; "we can gather enough wood to keep a fire going, and, if rain should set in, shall have as good shelter as if in the house on the ranch."
"That's it; and you mustn't furgit one thing," added Hazletine; "we fetched along just 'nough stuff fur dinner. We haven't anything left fur supper. None of the cattle git this fur into the mountains, so we can't count on them. Therefore, we've the ch'ice atween shooting game or starving to death."
"That's enough to make us all do our best, but we cannot suffer so long as we have you for our companion."
"But you ain't going to have me fur your companion."
The boys stared at their friend in astonishment. He explained:
"There ain't much show fur three persons to find game as long as they stick together. The right way is fur 'em all to part and each keep it up on his own hook. A chap isn't in half the danger of being seen by the deer or sheep, or whatever it may be he's after; and he has the chance, too, to show what stuff he's made of."
"Then you intend to leave us?"
"You've hit it the first time. I'll start out on my own bus'ness, meaning to be back here while the night's young."
Observing significant looks passing between the boys, the man hastened to add:
"Now, don't you folks make the mistake of thinking I'll get your supper fur you, fur I don't mean to do nothing of the kind. I don't intend to do any hunting, but to git away from you so as to let you have the chance. I don't say that if a big horn or a antelope or buck walks up in front of me and asks me to take a shy at him that I won't pop him over, though some folks that I know wouldn't do the same if the buck happened to be a two-legged one; but such things don't often happen; and, if you don't fetch in any game, them appetites of your'n are likely to bother you as much as they did t'other day when we was riding from the fort."
"Do you wish Fred and me to part company?"
Hank's eyes twinkled and a quizzical expression lit up that part of his countenance which was visible.
"'Twouldn't be safe."
"Why not?"
"You'd each take the other fur a wild donkey and plug him afore you found out the mistake, which the same wouldn't be such a mistake after all."
The boys could well afford to laugh at the pleasantry of the man who, it was evident, felt a partiality for them. He added, more seriously:
"You'd have more show to shoot game if you parted, but I'd not advise you to do it till after you've hunted for some days together. It's mighty easy for younkers like you to git lost in these mountains. You must keep your bearings, so it won't be any trouble fur you to find your way back to this spot when it's dark. If you happen to catch sight of any game, try to not let it see you till you git a fair shot at it; and there ain't much good in wounding a critter in these parts, fur it's sure to git away from you."
After some further instructions, Hank bade his young friends good-by and left them. He strode off in the direction of the trail over which they had come to reach this interesting spot in the mountains, and disappeared without once looking back to see what they were doing.
It was odd thus to be left alone in this wild region, and the chums looked in each other's face with smiles. It certainly was a curious experience to be set down in one of the greatest mountain spurs of the West, and to be told that now they must take care of themselves. It was like being cast into deep water and ordered to choose between swimming and drowning.
"It's just as well," said Jack, "or he wouldn't have done it. Surely the V. W. W. ought to be able to take care of ourselves, with our repeaters and pistols. There's nothing to be feared from wild animals, or he would have warned us."
"It strikes me that the most important thing to do is to keep our bearings, for if we should happen to lose our way it would go hard with us."
"We took care to bring spy-glasses, as well as everything else that we thought we were likely to need, but forgot about a compass, which may be worth all the rest."
"Well, we must be careful not to stray too far until we become familiar with the country. Let's not delay our start."
The plateau where their ponies were cropping the grass was several acres in extent, nearly half of it sloping abruptly; but the grass was abundant enough to furnish the animals with all they could need, no matter how long they stayed, since it had plenty of opportunity to renew itself.
Side by side the boys moved across the space, the ponies not raising their heads to look at them, as they passed near. Instead of following the course taken by their guide they bore to the right, but at the same time proceeded nearly westward, which led them deeper into the mountains. Remembering the caution of their friend they studied the landmarks around them, in the hope of not losing their way when it should become time to return to camp.
When fairly clear of the plateau, where they must have been at a considerable elevation above the sea, they found the way so rough that travelling became a task. There was nothing in the nature of a path or trail to follow, and they were compelled to pass around boulders and rocks, sometimes turning back and retracing their steps, and making long detours, so as to flank impassable chasms. All this tended to confuse their knowledge of the points of the compass, but they did not forget to note everything that could serve as a guide, and were confident of finding their way whenever it should become necessary to return.
Most of the time Jack Dudley was in the lead, for it was not easy to walk beside each other. He was perhaps a half-dozen paces in advance of Fred, when he abruptly stopped with an exclamation of affright.
"What is it?" asked his friend, hardly less startled.
"Look at that!"
He pointed downward, almost at his feet. Still unaware of what he meant, Fred stepped guardedly forward to his side.
There was good cause, indeed, for the alarm of the elder, for he had checked himself on the edge of a ravine or canyon fully a thousand feet deep. One step further and he would have dropped into eternity.
The peculiar formation of the canyon accounted for this peril. The chasm was barely a dozen feet wide, but the other side was depressed, so that it was not noticed by the youth until on the edge of the danger. The walls were of solid rock, showing the numerous strata of sandstone and other formations, worn so unevenly that it looked possible for a person to use them as stairs in climbing the sides. Pausing on the edge and peering cautiously down the dizzy steep, the youths could see a stream of water, winding its course far down at the bottom, where the roughness of its bed churned it into foam, and gave it the appearance of a white ribbon that had been strung along the course. The murmur was so soft and faint that at times they were not sure they heard it, and when it reached their ears the voice of the distant ocean was suggested.
A striking feature of this phenomenon was the exceeding narrowness of the canyon. It has been stated that directly opposite to where the boys had halted it was scarcely a dozen feet wide, and there were places in sight with the width still less, though most of it was greater. The ages that it had taken this stream to erode such a bed for itself was beyond imagination.
"Jack," said his companion, with that elasticity of spirits natural to one of his years, "if you had pitched down there, how in the world could I have pulled you up to the top again?"
"Why would you wish to do that?"
"Well, you would have been pretty well bruised and would have needed help."
"Possibly; but I wonder whether there are many such pit-holes in this part of the world. It resembles the fissures in the mountains of ice which I have read that the Arctic explorers sometimes find."
However, since the youths were on one side of the canyon, naturally they were seized with the belief that it was necessary immediately to place themselves on the other side. Why it was so they would have found hard to explain, but they were unanimous on the point; and, since there was but the single method of crossing the chasm, they set out to find it.
"It looks narrower over there to the left," said Jack, turning in that direction.
He did not have to go far when he paused, where the width was barely six feet—not enough to afford much of a leap for sturdy lads of their years.
"That's easy," added Jack, measuring it with his eye.
"You must remember one thing, Jack. There's something in the air of this part of the world which makes a mile look no more than a few hundred yards. Suppose that that other bank is fifty feet off!"
It was an alarming thought, and Jack recoiled as if again on the edge of the brink. But he was quick to see the absurdity of the idea.
"If that is so, then the canyon must be several miles deep. But we would better make sure."
It was easy to do this. Hunting around until a chip from one of the boulders was found, Jack tossed it across the abyss. It fell as he expected, proving that, wonderfully deceptive as is the atmosphere of the West, it cannot mislead in instances like that which confronted them.
"That makes it right. I am not afraid to make the leap; are you?"
"Not a bit; but wait."
Near them lay a stone, so large that it required their united strength to move it. By hard work they rolled it to the edge of the canyon and tumbled it over, carefully watching its descent. A curious thing followed. At first it shot straight downward for a hundred feet, when it impinged against a projecting point of the mountain wall, knocked the fragments in every direction, as if it were a ball fired from a thousand-pounder, and bounded against the opposite side, further down, scattering fragments again. By this time it had achieved an almost inconceivable momentum, and was shooting downward at a terrific rate.
In the depths of this narrow canyon, where the sunlight never penetrated for more than a few minutes at a time, it was always twilight. At the bottom it was almost dark, so that the stream would hardly have been visible but for its yeasty foam. At some point near the base, when the flinty stone was speeding forward like a meteor, it abraded a harder portion than before. Instantly a stream of fire shot out, such as sometimes flashes from a murky cloud in the sky, and, as if it were an echo of the impact, the splash and thunderous thump were heard by the boys at the top.
It was a tempting theme for the imagination, but they were too practical to linger. Having agreed that the canyon could be readily jumped, they did not hesitate. Running a few steps, Jack Dudley cleared the passage and landed on the other side, with several feet to spare. He did not take the trouble to toss his rifle in advance, but kept it in his hand.
"I had a queer feeling," he said, as Fred joined him, "when I was right over the middle of the canyon, and knew, if I had made any miscalculation, I should never stop until pretty well down toward the centre of the earth."