"You'll learn in no time," said the old soldier, when his off time came to an end. "You've crowded a dozen lessons into one."
"And I feel it," said Darry. "I'm going in to rest." And he went, followed by Joe. All told, the boys had enjoyed the drill very much.
Joe was somewhat worried when bedtime came and still nothing had been heard of his brother. Yet Colonel Fairfield told him not to mind the prolonged absence.
"But should not your quartermaster be here?" asked the boy.
"He may come in to-morrow morning," answered the colonel.
The next day dawned cloudy, and by noon a steady rain was falling. The boys hardly knew what to do, and, after watching a drill and some performances in the gymnasium, went back to the living quarters. They had hardly entered when there came a shout from the guard at the stockade.
"Captain Moore is coming, with the quartermaster!" was the cry.
"Hurrah, it's Will!" shouted Joe, and ran out despite the rain to welcome his brother.
Soon the soldiers came up, mud-stained and tired. They embraced half of Company A, and in their midst was the quartermaster of the regiment, with two attendants. Each of these three carried heavy saddle-bags, filled with government money for the soldiers, for payday was now due.
"Joe!" cried Captain Moore, as he dismounted and caught his brother by the hand. "I am glad to see you safe and sound."
"And I am glad to see you," answered Joe.
"I will be with you soon—I must first report to Colonel Fairfield," went on the young officer, and lost no time in seeking the commandant.
His story was soon told, and it speedily spread to all parts of the fort. Along with his men and old Benson he had looked in vain for the Gilroy gang for a whole day. Then he had come upon them just as they were preparing for an attack upon the quartermaster and his escort. The gang had numbered eight, and in the fight which had followed two of the crowd had been wounded, although all had made their escape by swimming their steeds over a dangerous mountain torrent. Of the soldiers three had been wounded, one man quite seriously. The young captain had received a bullet through his hat.
"It was Matt Gilroy himself who fired that shot," said Captain Moore. "And I won't forget it when next we meet."
Old Benson had been in the thickest of the fight from beginning to end, and it was he who had wounded one of the desperadoes while the fellow was in the act of carrying off one of the money-bags. The rascals had fought hard over that money-bag, but in the end had been compelled to drop everything and ride to save their lives.
As soon as Captain Moore had made his report, another detachment was sent out, to follow the desperadoes, if they could be found. This detachment was fifty strong and under the leadership of Lieutenant Carrol. The lieutenant was a man who had met numerous desperadoes in his time, and it was felt that he could do the work much better than the average soldier.
With his brother at hand, Joe felt much more at home than formerly, and the captain's presence also made a difference to his cousin. Old Benson remained at the fort for the time being, and did what he could to please the boys.
He took an especial interest in their shooting, and would often set up a target on the prairie for them to practice on.
"You'll do first-rate in a little while," he said. "And as Lambert says you take to drilling, it won't be long afore you're both out-and-out soldiers."
"I don't know as I care to be a regular soldier," answered Darry. "I wouldn't mind it for a while, but to enlist for five years—why, that's another thing."
"Lambert has enlisted four times. When his time is out he'll be in service twenty years."
"And yet he is only a private," put in Joe.
"He is content, and doesn't want to go any higher. He likes the life, and he told me not long ago that he wouldn't know what to do with himself if he was out of Uncle Sam's employ."
One day after another passed, until the boys had been at the fort a little over a week. They now knew the drills and the "time-card" as well as anybody, and often practiced on the apparatus in the gymnasium.
"It's not so bad, after you once get used to it," said Joe. "The men are a good deal of company for each other."
"It's odd to see so many men and so few women," returned Darry.
"Some of the men don't want any women around, so I've been told. They are like some of the old-time miners who used to move out of camp as soon as a dress-skirt showed itself."
One day Captain Moore and old Benson got permission to go off on a hunt, and took the boys along. All of the party were mounted, and each carried a saddle-bag with part of the necessary camping outfit.
"If it's possible to do so, I'll show you some big game," announced the old scout. "Although I'll allow big game is mighty scarce, even in these parts."
"Have the hunters shot down everything?" asked Joe.
"A good bit, lad. You see, many used to come out here just to shoot for the sake of killing. I've known a party of six men to kill twenty or thirty buffalo and then leave the carcasses to the wolves. That was a shame."
"So it was!" cried Darry. "One or two buffalo would have been enough."
"Some hunters never know when to stop," put in Captain Moore. "They shoot as long as anything shows itself. If it wasn't for that these hills would be filled with buffalo, deer, bears, and all other kind of game."
The morning was clear and cool, and everybody in the party was in the best of spirits. The course was down into a broad valley, in the middle of which flowed the Rocky Pass River, and then up a series of hills leading to Tom Long Mountain—a favorite resort in this territory for sportsmen.
"Do you think we'll see or hear anything of those desperadoes?" asked Joe of his brother, as they rode along side by side.
"It's not likely," answered the young captain. "As soon as they learn that the soldiers are after them they'll take to their heels in double-quick order. They haven't any taste for meeting our regulars."
"It's queer that this Matt Gilroy should go in for this sort of life—if he is as well educated as you say."
"Some men don't like anything better, Joe—they wouldn't earn their living honestly if they could. It's queer that this is so, but it's a fact. Those men have no regular homes, although many often talk of settling down. Generally they die with their boots on, as the saying goes."
By noon the party had covered fifteen miles and were well into the hills. They came to a rest beside a fine spring which flowed from a split in the rocks. Near at hand was some dense brushwood, and old Benson rightfully guessed that it would not be difficult to beat up some birds.
"You can now try your luck at aiming," he said to the boys, and led the way into the dense growth. Soon a flock of birds arose directly before them, and both Darry and Joe took a quick shot, bringing down seven of the quarry. Then the scout fired, and five other birds dropped.
"Pretty good for a starter!" cried old Benson, as they stalked around picking up the game. "That target practice has made you both pretty steady. Just a round dozen, all told. That's a-plenty for dinner, I reckon."
Captain Moore was also pleased when told of what his brother and his cousin had accomplished. "You'll make great hunters in time," he said. "The main thing is to keep your nerve when big game confronts you. You know you have the best of a bird or squirrel, or anything like that. But when it comes to a buffalo, or a bear——"
"I know all about bears," interrupted Joe, and at this there was a general laugh. "If I ever meet another bear I want to be well prepared for him," he continued.
"Generally a wild animal won't fight," went on the young captain. "But when one is cornered he is apt to get very ugly; eh, Benson?"
"Right you are, captain. I was once cornered by a buffalo, and had all I could do to save myself."
The old scout calculated that they would strike some game that afternoon, and he was not mistaken. About two o'clock they sighted several deer far up the hillside.
"Fine, plump animals," said Benson. "If we get a couple of them we can be well satisfied."
It was decided that they should move around in a semicircle, so as to get to leeward of the herd.
"If we don't do that, the deer will scent us and be off in no time," explained Captain Moore.
Their horses were tethered in the brush, near some trees, and the party of four started out on foot. The way was rough, but the boys did not mind this. Their sole thought was upon the deer, and each resolved to bring down one of the game, no matter at what cost.
It was no light task to reach a spot from which to shoot. They had to cross several depressions on the hillside, and here the undergrowth was so heavy that progress at times seemed impossible. Once Darry went into a hole up to his waist, and came out with several rents in his coat, where the thorns had clung to him.
"Oh!" he muttered. "Oh!"
"Are you hurt?" questioned Joe quickly.
"Not much, but I reckon I'm a good deal scratched up," answered Darry, with a wry face.
At last they gained a point well to leeward of the quarry, and Benson brought the party to a halt.
"We'll creep in as far as we can," he said. "But keep your guns ready for use, and as soon as one fires the others had best fire too, for the deer won't wait after one shot. Which will you take, captain?"
"I'll take the one near the big rock," answered Captain Moore. "Joe, you had better take the one on the knoll."
"I will."
"I'll take the one rubbing his side with his prong," put in Darry.
"And I'll take the one coming through the brush," finished old Benson. "Now then, forward. Make no noise, and be sure your gun doesn't go off and hit somebody else instead of the deer."
Rifles in hand, they crept through the underbrush and down toward the glade in which the deer were feeding.
The animals did not become suspicious until they were less than a hundred yards away. Then, of a sudden, the leader threw up his head and began to sniff the air.
"Now fire," said Benson in a low tone.
At once the four rifles came up, and each hunter took steady aim. Darry and Joe fired at the same instant, and the young captain and Benson discharged their pieces immediately after.
The aim of the two older hunters was true, and two deer fell dead after going less than six steps. But the other game was only wounded, Joe's deer in the side and Darry's in the flank, and they bounded away up the hillside.
"Missed!" groaned Joe, and slipped another cartridge into his firearm. Darry did the same, and both fired a second time. Then, seeing how badly the deer were wounded, they ran after the animals.
The course of the deer was straight for the timber down the mountain-side, and through the brush crashed quarry and boys until another hundred yards were covered. Then, coming to a rocky cliff, and being unable to leap to the top, the deer came to a halt.
"Do you see 'em?" panted Darry, almost out of breath with running.
"Yes—there they are!" returned Joe. "See?"
"I do. They can't get up the rocks. Joe, we've got 'em after all. We must shoot——Gracious!"
The boy broke off short, and with good reason. The deer had spotted them, and now without warning turned and ran straight for both, as if to gore them to death!
"Look out, Darry, or he'll kill you!"
"Look out for yourself, Joe!"
These cries were followed by two shots, as both the young hunters discharged their weapons. But in their haste the aim of each was poor, and the bullets flew wide of the mark. Then the maddened deer came closer, and both boys took to their heels, running as they had never run before.
"Hi! what's up?" came in old Benson's voice.
"The deer are after us!" yelled Joe. "Shoot 'em quick!"
Hardly had the lad spoken when he felt one of the deer close behind him. He leaped to one side, and the animal charged past with great vigor, considering how badly he was wounded. But that charge was his last, for Benson's rifle spoke up, and the animal fell lifeless where he stood.
In the meantime Darry was having his hands full with the second deer. The youth had been unable to reload, and now he found himself in a thicket, with the deer fairly on top of him. He caught his firearm by the barrel and hit the animal a resounding blow on the head. This made the deer stagger back and pause.
"Help! help!" yelled the boy. "Somebody shoot this beast!"
"I'm coming!" came in Captain Moore's voice. "Where are you?"
"Here, in the bush! Quick, or he'll stick me to death!"
The deer was now charging with lowered head. He was in a fearful rage. As he came on there was a sharp report, and the young captain burst into view, his rifle barrel still smoking. Then the deer gave one last leap into the air, and came down upon Darry. The fall knocked the boy senseless.
While Captain Moore was removing the weight from Darry's body, the old scout came up, followed by Joe.
"Hullo, he got it, did he?" said Benson. "Is he badly hurt?"
"I hope not," answered the young captain. "You see, the deer didn't touch him until I fired. Then he leaped up and knocked my cousin down."
"Hope there aint any bones broken."
The deer was removed, and Benson went off to get some water. When he came back Captain Moore and Joe were rubbing Darry's wrists. The water was dashed into the unconscious youth's face, and soon he gave a gasp and opened his eyes.
"The deer?" were his first words.
"You are safe," said the captain reassuringly. "The deer is dead."
"Oh!" Darry uttered a sigh of relief. "I was thinking he was goring me to pieces."
"You had a narrow escape," put in old Benson. "If it hadn't been for the captain he would have mauled you for certain. Didn't you hear me yell to be careful?"
"I thought it would be an easy matter to bring him down, after he was wounded," said Darry, still gasping for breath.
"Any bones broken?" questioned Captain Moore.
"I—I guess not." Darry gave a sigh and sat up. "How did Joe make out?"
"I am all right," answered that individual. "Benson did the trick for me though. Benson, I owe you a good deal."
"And I owe you a good deal," said Darry, turning to his cousin.
"I'm glad I came up, Darry," answered the young captain. "After this both you and Joe must be more careful. If either of you had been killed I would never have forgiven myself for bringing you out on the hunt."
"I want to give you both a bit of advice, and I want you to remember it too," came from the old scout. "Never get too close to big game until you are certain of what you are doing, and be extry careful of big game that is wounded and cornered. Even a sneaking fox will turn on you if he sees there is no other way out of his difficulty."
"I'll remember that," answered both Joe and Darry, and they did remember, and thus was one peril of big-game hunting abolished.
Darry felt too weak for the time being to do much, so Joe led him back to where they had left the horses, while Captain Moore and old Benson took upon themselves the task of bringing in the four deer. Each was a beautiful prize, and the quartet made an imposing sight when hung up on a couple of tree branches.
"The colonel will like this haul," said the young captain. "It will mean prime venison for some days to come. Benson, I wish we could get some of it back to the fort without delay—so we can put it on ice and keep it nice."
"I'll take 'em all to the fort to-night, if you say so," answered the scout. "I can take one on my horse, and load the other three on one of the other animals."
"Then do that, and while at the fort ask the colonel if he will give me permission to remain out until Saturday. Tell him we think we can bring in something for all hands to enjoy."
"I'll do it," said the old scout.
Soon the deer were packed on the horses, old Benson having first cut some steaks from the smallest of the game, to leave behind.
"Take good care of yourselves while I am gone," he said on departing. "And you, Joe and Darry, mind what I told you about getting cornered." Then he was off, and a turn in the mountain trail soon hid him from view.
"A fine old fellow," was Joe's comment, when Benson was gone.
"He is that," answered the young captain. "I liked him from the first time I saw him, and I have never had cause to regret it. He is a good hunter, an excellent scout, and has done us many a good turn."
"What shall we do while he is absent?" questioned Darry.
"Oh, we can try our hand at small game and we can fish!" answered the young captain. "As it is, I reckon both of you would just as lief take it easy until morning."
"I would. That deer on me has made me feel sore all over."
They were soon in camp again, and while the boys rested Captain Moore stirred around and showed them how the soldiers prepared their meals. He cooked the steaks to a turn, and boiled a pot of coffee, and these, with some crackers they had brought along, made a most excellent meal. Being in no hurry, they took their time over the repast, and it was dark long before they finished.
"It's going to be a fine night, so we can sleep under the trees without fear," said the young captain.
"Don't you think some wild animals will attack us?"
"Not if we keep our camp-fire burning."
The boys brought in plenty of brush and some heavier wood, and arranged it so that it would burn for a long while, doing this by forming the stuff into something of a circle. Then the horses were looked after, and each retired, with his blanket rolled around him to keep off the mountain dew, which was already showing itself.
When the boys awoke the sun was shining brightly into their faces. For a moment each stared at the other.
"Gracious, I never slept so soundly in my life!" cried Joe. "I couldn't have done better in a bed at home."
"Nor I," returned his cousin. "I can tell you, sleeping in the open air when it doesn't rain is all right."
But when Darry got up on his feet he changed his tune. The fall of the day previous, combined with the night air, had made him woefully stiff, and it was a good half-hour before he became limbered up.
They found Captain Moore already stirring, and the kettle over the fire was boiling merrily. The captain himself was trying his luck at a brook not a great distance off.
"I saw some fish in here some weeks ago," he explained. "I thought I might get a couple for breakfast. But you lads will have to wait until I strike luck."
"I'm willing to wait," said Joe. "There is nothing to do, is there, until Benson gets back?"
"Nothing that I know of, unless you want to fish or go after some small game. I want to hear what he has to say. If the colonel won't let me stay out, I'll have to return to the fort to-night."
It did not take long for Captain Moore to land several good-sized specimens of the finny tribe, and these the boys took turns at preparing for eating, while the captain continued to fish. The balance of the morning was passed at the brook, and, strange to say, the captain and Joe were both quite successful, while Darry hardly got a bite.
"I'm going to try my luck further up the stream," announced the boy. "I believe we are all fishing too closely together."
"That doesn't seem to hurt my luck," said Joe.
Darry was soon climbing the rocks leading up the brook. The way was rough, but he was growing used to this life in the open air and he enjoyed even the hardship, if such it can be called.
"That ought to make a good fishing-hole," he said to himself, as he reached a point where several big rocks hung over the water's edge. "It's dark down there, and that's what some fish like."
He prepared his bait with care, and then dropped his line into the hole. Almost immediately he felt a nibble, and, giving a jerk, found he had caught something that was both large and powerful.
"Gracious, it must be a whopper!" he muttered, as the fish darted hither and thither. Then he braced back on the rock, to play the game, for bringing in the catch at once seemed out of the question. The pole bent greatly, and he was afraid it would snap on him.
He could not stand on the slippery rock very well, and so stepped behind it, on a number of loose stones. Hardly had he done so when he heard a strange hissing. Looking down, he saw a snake glide from under the rock. In a moment more the angry reptile faced him.
Darry was much alarmed, and with good reason. Never before had he faced such a snake, and the reptile looked ready to spring upon him at any instant.
What to do the boy did not know, yet instinctively he leaped back to the top of the rock. Then the fish gave a jerk which almost took him from his feet.
"Joe! Will!" he shouted. "Come this way! I'm in a pickle!"
"What's the matter?" shouted Captain Moore, and soon he and his brother were coming forward as quickly as they could.
In the meantime Darry was having his hands full, for the big fish was bound to get away. At the bottom of the rock lay the snake, with head raised and mouth wide open. Its eyes shone like diamonds.
"A snake! Kill it!" shrieked Darry.
"A snake?" echoed Joe. "Where?"
"At the bottom of this big rock. Oh, my, he's going to come up!"
"I see him," put in Captain Moore.
As he spoke the snake made a leap for the top of the rock. As the reptile went up, Darry went down, and ran along the brook's edge, still with his fishing-pole in his hand.
Catching up a sharp stone, Captain Moore flung it at the snake, hitting the reptile in the tail. At once the thing whirled around, and now forgetting Darry it turned on its assailant.
"He's coming for you!" ejaculated Joe. "Run, Will, or you'll be bitten sure!"
"I'm not running from a snake," answered the young officer, and in a trice he whipped out his pistol. As the snake came on he let drive. His aim was true, and the snake dropped with its head half severed from its body.
"Good for you!" said Joe, and now he picked up a stone as large as his hand. This he dropped directly on the quivering head, and thus ended the battle, although the body of the snake continued to wriggle for a long while afterward.
With white face and set teeth, Darry continued to play his catch and he was still at it when Joe and his brother came rushing up.
"Did the snake bite you?" questioned the young captain. "Why didn't you pull in?"
"I've got something big on," answered Darry. "I didn't want to miss it."
"Well, I never!" gasped Captain Moore. "And you didn't let go even with that snake at your heels? Well, you like a fish better than I do, I can tell you that."
Again the pole bent and threatened to break, but Darry knew what he was doing, and promptly let the fish have more line. Then he wound in, and as the fish unexpectedly came close to shore he gave a sudden strong, steady sweep, and up came the prize on the rocks, flapping and flopping violently.
"My, what a whopper!" cried Joe. "He must weigh at least seven or eight pounds!"
"He felt as if he weighed about forty when he was in the water," returned Darry, a little crest-fallen that the catch was not larger.
"That's the biggest fish I've ever seen taken out of this stream," said the young captain. "You can be proud of it, Darry. But to hold on when that snake was behind you——" He shook his head.
"Oh, I knew you'd come up and take care of that, Cousin Will."
"But I might have been too late."
"Was it a poisonous one?"
"Some claim they are poisonous, but the surgeon up at the fort says not. Still I wouldn't want to risk a bite."
"Perhaps there are more around," suggested Joe.
"No, the peculiarity of this variety of snakes is that they always travel alone. If they meet they fight until one or the other is dead."
"Did you ever see such a fight, Will?"
"I did, when I first came to these parts. I was riding over a rocky trail when my horse suddenly stopped, nearly throwing me. On looking ahead to find out what had frightened my animal, I discovered two of these snakes. They were facing each other, with mouths wide open and fangs showing. Each was so interested in the other that neither noticed me or the horse. They faced each other for fully a minute, and during that time began to hiss louder and louder. Suddenly they sprang at each other, and one snake was stung in the eye. He curled himself around the other snake's neck, and in an instant both were in a tight ball. They rolled around and around among the rocks. Once in a while a head would show itself, and then there would be more hissing. After ten minutes the ball fell gradually apart, and then one snake crawled slowly away, more dead than alive. The other snake proved to be dead, with both eyes torn from its head."
"Didn't you kill the other snake?" asked Darry.
"I did. That's the first and only battle I ever saw between snakes, and it was terrible while it lasted, I can tell you that."
Fishing over, they went into camp, and here rested until old Benson came back.
"The colonel was tickled to death to receive so much deer meat," said the old scout. "And he says you can stay until Saturday night if you wish. His lady said she had been wanting some venison for several weeks."
Captain Moore felt glad to think he could be out four days more.
"We'll have a grand time now," he said. "Benson, we can go right over yonder mountain, can't we?"
"To be sure," answered the scout.
"Is the hunting good over there?" asked Joe.
"Yes, lad. There used to be some buffalo there."
"Good! Let us get a buffalo by all means!" cried Darry.
"You go slow about tackling a buffalo, especially a bull," said the young captain. "If we do sight a buffalo you let Benson manage the whole affair."
It was not long before the party were off once more, up a trail which led directly to the mountain top. Here traveling was difficult, and both riders and horses were glad to rest at frequent intervals.
When the top was gained the sun was just sinking in the far west. The sight on every side was a glorious one, and as the captain had a small field-glass with him, they could see for miles.
"There is the fort," said Joe, after looking through the glass. "I can see the flag quite plainly."
In the west were more mountains, and between these the valley for which they were bound. Timber and underbrush were dense in spots, while at other points the mountain sides were covered with bold, blackish rocks, with here and there luxuriant moss of several hues. Springs and brooks were numerous, so there was no danger of a water famine.
"I can make out some game over yonder," said Darry, when he had the glass adjusted to his sight.
"What is it?"
"I can't see very plainly."
"Hand over the glass," said old Benson, and took a careful look. But the setting sun now cast a deep shadow between the mountains, and he was unable to tell what it was.
"Mountain deer, most likely," he said. "We'll find out to-morrow—if the good weather holds out."
"Do you think we'll have a storm?" asked Joe quickly.
"We'll have something; don't you think so, captain?"
"I think we'll have more wind than rain," returned Captain Moore.
"If we have a high wind, will it be safe right on the mountain top?" questioned Joe.
"We won't stay here," said old Benson. "I know of a much better camping-place. Come, while it is still a little light." And they set off once more.
The place the old scout had in mind was close beside a cliff. The wall of rocks was twice as high as their heads, and on either side was a growth of heavy timber. There was a spring at hand and a grassy patch which promised them an easy bed, providing it did not rain.
"If it storms we can seek the shelter of the cliff," said old Benson. "It won't be as comfortable as a house or cabin, but it will be a good deal better than being right in the open."
The boys were glad enough to rest after the wearisome ride over the top of the mountain, and hungry for the meal the old scout took upon himself to prepare.
When the fire was lit it burned up lively, blowing the sparks in several directions. As soon as he finished cooking the meal Benson put out the blaze.
"Too much wind," he said, in reply to a question from Joe. "I don't want to set the whole mountain side on fire."
Benson was right about the wind, which was now sweeping strongly through the tops of the tall trees. Presently it came lower, and shook up the brushwood. The night birds began to fly around, uttering their shrill cries. The old scout listened to the birds with some concern.
"It's going to be a big blow," he said to Darry.
"You are sure?"
"Yes. The birds are afraid of it. See how they flutter around? That's a sure sign."
"Birds must know a good deal, Benson."
"They do, lad—a heap sight more than folks gives 'em credit for. We could learn a good deal from them, if we'd only set our minds to it."
They took their time about eating, having nothing else to do. Then Benson cared for the horses, putting them in the shelter of the brush, but away from the big trees.
At last it began to blow in earnest, and presently they heard a tree limb here and there snap with a loud report. Then the wind became so furious they were glad enough to huddle under the cliff for shelter.
"It's coming now!" shouted old Benson suddenly. "Hold fast to your hats, boys, or you'll never see them again. And sit down on the traps!"
And in a moment more the fury of the wind storm was upon them.
Both Joe and Darry had witnessed many a blow, but nothing to compare to that which now swept through the valley and up the mountain side. The velocity of the wind was simply terrific, and it was well that old Benson had cautioned them to hold on to their hats and sit on their traps, otherwise all would have been blown away to parts unknown.
"Say, but this is fierce!" gasped Darry, after several minutes had passed.
"It's a regular hurricane," said Captain Moore. "I've been out in them before. Fortunately they do not last over a quarter or half an hour. Down on the prairies of Kansas they would call it a cyclone. Here, however, it can't get the sweep that it can on the level."
"Hark! what is that?" put in Joe, as a tremendous crashing reached their ears.
"That's a tree in the forest going down," answered old Benson.
"There goes another," said Darry, as more crashing was heard. "I am glad we didn't go into the timber. It's more dangerous than lightning."
"So it is!" shouted Benson. It was with difficulty that he made himself heard. "Here comes the worse of it!" he added.
A strange humming now filled the air, followed by twigs and flying branches. Overhead it was unusually dark, and they could scarcely see one another. Joe and Darry kept close together and clasped hands. Captain Moore was on one side of them and old Benson on the other.
As the wind struck the cliff it sent a shower of loose stones in all directions. Then it tore through the undergrowth where the horses were tethered. Next it seemed to hit the trees fronting the cliff. One tall monarch of the forest was twisted completely from its roots and began to topple.
"See, the tree is coming on top of us!" shrieked Joe.
His words were drowned out in the fury of the wind and the crashing of the tree. The next moment the monarch of the forest came down on the cliff with a bang, cracking the stone in several places. The bottom limbs caught those under the cliff and pinned them fast.
To both boys it seemed as if the end of the world had come. They rolled over, one on top of the other, and for several seconds lay dazed. Then they tried to get up, but found themselves unable to do so.
"Get off of my chest!" gasped Joe, who was underneath.
"I can't—I'm pinned down!" panted Darry.
"Boys, are you safe?" came from old Benson, who was also caught.
"I—I guess so!" answered Joe. "But it's a tight squeeze." Then the youth called out to his brother, but no answer came back.
"Will must be hurt!" he exclaimed, his heart rising in his throat. "Will! Will! Where are you?" he continued.
Still there was no answer, or if so the fury of the wind drowned it out completely. The boys tried their best to move, but could only budge a few inches.
In five minutes the fury of the blow spent itself and the last of the wind sent the fallen tree rolling along the cliff a distance of several rods. This released Joe and Darry, and they arose to their feet dazed and bewildered and scarcely knowing what to do next. It was now raining and darker than ever.
"Benson!" called out Joe, "where is my brother?"
"The captain must still be under the tree," replied the old scout. "He was next to you when the tree came down, wasn't he?"
"He was, but I believe the wind carried his hat off, and he made a dive for it. That's the last I saw of him."
Staggering to his feet, Joe looked around, trying to pierce the darkness. Darry followed him, and old Benson also got up. The scout had received a nasty cut on the shoulder, from which the blood was flowing.
In a few minutes Joe found his brother. The captain lay on the rocks unconscious, a big lump on his forehead, where the largest of the tree's branches had struck him. Kneeling at his brother's side, the boy made a hasty examination.
"He's alive!" he said. "But he must have been struck a terrible crack."
There was little to do excepting to bathe the unconscious officer's head, and this was done. In the meantime Darry assisted old Benson at binding up the wounded shoulder.
"Take the tree off!" Such were the first words Captain Moore uttered when he returned to consciousness. It was some time before he could sit up.
"You are all right, Will—the tree is not on you," said Joe soothingly.
"But it came down right on top of me."
"Yes, it came down on all of us."
"Anybody killed?"
"No. Benson has a cut on the shoulder, and you were knocked out. Feel the lump on your head."
The young captain did so.
"Phew! But that's a regular goose-egg, isn't it?" he muttered. "I suppose I can be thankful that I am alive."
"We can all be thankful for that, Will."
"It was the greatest blow I ever experienced—in more ways than one," said the captain. "I see it is raining. We had better go back to the cliff for protection."
"Don't do it!" cried old Benson, from out of the darkness. "The tree struck the cliff a heavy blow, and we don't want that down on our heads next."
"No, let us give the cliff a wide berth," said Darry. "I'd rather remain right out in the open and get soaked than take any more risks."
"The rain won't amount to much," said Benson. "It never does after such a hurricane."
The scout was right, and in less than half an hour after it had begun the downpour was over and the stars were struggling forth in the sky. Without delay a camp-fire was lit, and the blaze did much toward making them comfortable. It was found that Benson's wound was by far the worst, yet the old scout said it would not interfere with his outing.
"I've had lots of 'em in my time," was the way he expressed himself. "Lots, and I aint dead yet. 'Pears to me I'm about as tough as a pine-knot."
It was found that the horses had not suffered in the least from the storm, although they had been much frightened. Soon they calmed down, and by midnight all was as quiet as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. But Captain Moore and old Benson carried the marks of the adventure for many days after.
On the following morning no one felt much in the humor for hunting, and half a day was lost in "bumming around," as Joe expressed it. This gave all a good rest and put the horses in fine fettle, and when they started out after the midday meal all were once again in high spirits.
That night found them on the edge of what old Benson called the buffalo ground, a broad valley where the grass was thick and of a peculiar richness. On the way they had shot a number of birds and also a few small animals, but nothing of importance. Once some deer had been sighted, but the game was too far off to be pursued.
As they expected to remain at this point until ready to return home, the old scout proceeded to put up a shelter of brush, which, when completed, was almost as comfortable as a cabin. On the bottom were strewn pine boughs, which gave the shelter a peculiar odor.
"Best thing in the world for colds and weak lungs, that smell," said Benson. "I've never known it to fail." The boys declared that the odor made them sleep "like logs."
"It's queer we haven't seen any Indians," remarked Darry. "I thought these mountains were full of them."
"They were full, before the fort was established," answered Benson. "But the kind that are in this neighborhood don't like white men very much, and they only come around the fort when it's necessary. But we may meet some after buffalo. An Injun will do a heap to get a critter like that."
The old scout said it would be useless to go out in a body to look for buffalo, and so it was arranged that he should first go over the ground alone, leaving the captain and the two boys to look for smaller game.
This settled, Benson soon set off, and a little later Captain Moore, Joe, and Darry took their way along some bushes skirting a small water-course. They went on foot, leaving their horses tethered near the shelter.
"I will go up one side of the stream, and you can go up the other," said the captain. "By doing that we'll be sure to stir up anything within a hundred yards of the water."
The boys agreed, and soon each member of the party was hard at work, on the hunt for any small game the vicinity might afford.
It was not long before they gained a spot where the underbrush along the brook was thick. Here the stream divided into two branches, and, without knowing it, the captain and the boys became gradually more and more separated, the brush and small trees hiding each from the other.
"I don't see much," said Joe, after half a mile had been covered. "Those little birds aren't worth wasting powder and shot on."
"It looks to me as if somebody had gone over this ground," returned Darry. "See here, aren't those fresh footprints?"
"I believe they are. And see, here are the prints of several horses' hoofs. Benson didn't come this way, did he?"
"I don't think he did."
"Then there must be other hunters not far off."
They continued on their way, coming to a halt where the branch of the brook entered a small, rocky canyon.
"No use of going further," said Joe. "Let us retrace our steps."
"Where can your brother be? I haven't heard him for some time."
Joe set up a yell, and both listened attentively. No answer came back. Then both called in concert. Still the silence continued.
"It's mighty queer," was Joe's comment "Let us go back. Perhaps he's in trouble."
In the meanwhile, never dreaming of the danger at hand, Captain Moore pursued his way up the other branch of the water-course. Here the underbrush was even more dense than where the boys were, and consequently he did not think it strange that he heard nothing of his brother and his cousin.
The fact that he stirred up no game nettled him, and he pushed on, determined to bring down something before he went back.
Suddenly he espied something moving in the patch of wood ahead of him. Rifle in hand, he moved cautiously in the direction.
As he did this, a man glided out from the bushes to his right and followed him as silently as a shadow.
The man was Gus Fetter. The desperado was fully armed, and his face was black with hatred of the young army officer.
As the wood was gained, Captain Moore paused to locate the object he had seen.
But before he could do this, he was caught from behind and his rifle was wrenched from his grasp.
"Fetter!" he ejaculated, as he caught sight of the desperado.
"Up with your hands, Captain Moore!" growled the rascal savagely. "Up, I say! I've got the drop on you!"
Fetter had thrown the captain's rifle to the ground, and now stood upon it. In his hands he held his own weapon, and the muzzle was aimed at the young officer's head.
Realizing that discretion was the better part of valor, Captain Moore threw up his hands promptly, at which the desperado grinned wickedly.
"Where did you come from, Fetter?" demanded the captain.
"From not far away, captain."
"What do you mean by treating a United States army officer in this fashion?"
"I've got a score to settle with you, captain. Don't forget that."
"Are the rest of the gang around?"
"They are."
Following his last words, Gus Fetter gave a long, clear whistle, followed by two shorter ones. At once an answer came back from the woods, and in a few seconds Matt Gilroy appeared.
"Hullo, so you've got him," sang out the leader of the desperadoes. "A good haul. How are you, Captain Moore? Delighted to see me, I suppose."
"Not at all glad to meet you—considering the circumstances," answered the young officer, trying to keep cool, although he realized that he was in a dangerous situation.
"Well, you're honest about it, anyway," said Gilroy with a brutal laugh.
"Have you been following our party?"
"You had better not ask too many questions, captain."
By this time Potts and two other men were coming up. One of the latter carried his left arm in a sling. Captain Moore's recognized him as a fellow who had been wounded in the raid on the quartermaster's party.
The desperadoes consulted among themselves for a few minutes, and then Captain Moore was ordered to march on.
"To where?" he asked.
"You'll see when you get there," answered Fetter. "Now move, or, by the boots, I shoot you down where you stand!"
Seeing it would be worse than useless to resist, the young officer did as ordered, and the whole party moved away from the water-course and took to a trail leading back to the side of the mountain.
Presently they came upon a number of horses, and here they mounted. There were two steeds without riders, and Captain Moore was ordered to the back of one of these. All rode off in a bunch, the prisoner being kept in the center of the party. He had been searched and his pistol taken from him, also his pocket-knife, field-glass, and his money and jewelry.
In less than quarter of an hour a split in the mountain side was gained. To the rear was something of a cave, the entrance overgrown with brush and vines. At the mouth of the cave the party came to a halt, and were met by several other desperadoes.
"Now you can get down," said Gilroy. "Fetter, I guess we had better bind his hands behind him."
"You are going to bind me?" queried Captain Moore.
"And why not? You are such a nice chap, captain, we don't want to part with you just yet."
"Why are you going to keep me a prisoner?"
"Well, don't forget that we hold you responsible for that little mix-up when we were after the quartermaster's money-bags."
"I only did my duty, Gilroy."
"Perhaps; but if it hadn't been for you and your men our gang would have been about twenty thousand dollars richer than we are to-day."
"And I wouldn't have this lame arm," growled the fellow who had been wounded.
"As I said before, I only did my duty," repeated the captain calmly. "Even if I hadn't arrived, don't you suppose the quartermaster would have done all he could to defend himself?"
"Certainly; but his party numbered only three. However, we won't talk now. We have other things to do. Get into that cave. And don't try to escape, or it will be the worse for you."
With a downcast heart the young officer entered the cave, which was an old rendezvous of the desperadoes. Inside were a rude table and a couple of benches, and he threw himself down on one of the latter. One of the gang, Potts, put himself on guard outside, rifle in hand. The others separated into two parties, and went off again.
"Can they be going after Joe and Darry, or after Benson?" was the question the captain asked himself.
He waited until the hoofbeats outside had entirely ceased, then called to Potts.
"Where are they going?" he asked.
"That's Captain Gilroy's business," was the answer.
"Oh, so you call Gilroy captain now?"
"We do."
"How many men is he captain of?"
"About thirty, if you're anxious to know."
"Thirty! There are not that number of desperadoes within three hundred miles of this place."
"All right, if you know better than I do."
"Has the captain gone off for the rest of my party?"
"Perhaps he has."
"It won't do him any good to make them prisoners."
"I reckon he knows his own business best, Captain Moore."
"And what will you get out of this affair, Potts?"
"Me? I'll get my share when we make another haul."
"Do you expect to make another haul soon?"
"As I said afore, better ask the captain. We're organized into a regular company now, and all the privates like me have to do is to obey orders. You know how it is in the regular army."
"A company of desperadoes," mused Captain Moore. "That's something we haven't had out here in years."
Potts would talk no more after this, but sat down on a rock to smoke his pipe and continue his guard duty.
The young captain had had his hands bound tightly behind him, and, try his best, he found himself unable to either break or slip his bonds.
He was anxious concerning himself, but he was even more upset concerning his brother and his cousin.
"If they kick up a fuss, more than likely Gilroy and the others will shoot them down!" he groaned. "It's too bad! I thought we would have a splendid time hunting, and here we are, falling into all sorts of difficulties."
As impatient as he was, he could do nothing but stalk around the cave. The place was five yards wide by over a hundred feet long. To the rear was a rude fireplace, the smoke drifting through some wide cracks overhead. A small fire was burning, and he kicked a fresh log on the blaze, which soon gave him more light. Then he sat down again.
As he rested, his eyes roamed around the rocky apartment, and presently fell upon a sheet of paper lying under the table. Curious to know what it might contain, he bent down backwards, and by an effort secured the paper and placed it upon the table. Then, by the flickering flames, he tried to make out the writing it contained.
The letter—for such the sheet proved to be—was a communication which had been sent to Matt Gilroy by a writer who signed himself Mose. It ran as follows:
"The plan will work perfectly, and all we must do is to wait until the money is at the fort. I am sure the soldiers will leave as requested, and the defense will amount to little or nothing. Will see to it that Colonel Fairfield is drugged, and will treat Captain Moore and the other officers the same way, if I can get the chance."
It did not take Joe and Darry long to retrace their steps at the water-course. They continued to call to the young captain, and once Joe shot off his rifle as a signal, but, as we know, no answer came back.
"I can't understand this at all," said Joe, when they halted near the shelter. "I didn't hear him do any firing, did you?"
"Not a shot," answered Darry. "He must have gone away from the brook instead of along the bank."
The two boys hung around the shelter for some time, and then decided to follow up the trail left by the young officer.
This was easy for part of the distance, but soon the footprints became so indistinct that they came to another halt.
"Stumped!" muttered Joe. "We might as well go back to the shelter and wait till he returns. One thing is certain, he hasn't found any game, or we would have heard the firing."
Tired by their long tramp the boys sat down in the shelter, thinking that Captain Moore would return at any moment.
Thus an hour was passed. It was now noon, and Joe and Darry set to work to prepare dinner for themselves.
The repast was just finished when Joe let out a cry of alarm.
"Matt Gilroy!"
He was right. The captain of the desperadoes had appeared, followed by several others.
The boys were taken completely off their guard. Darry made a clutch for his rifle, but on the instant Gilroy had him covered.
"Leave the gun alone!" cried the rascal. "Leave it alone, or it will be the worse for you."
"What do you want?" questioned Joe.
"We want you to behave yourselves," answered Fetter, who was in the crowd.
"You played us a nice trick that time you escaped from the cave," growled Gilroy, eying Joe darkly.
"Do you blame me for wanting to get away?"
"Hardly. But I'll warrant you won't get away again."
"Then you consider me your prisoner?"
"I do."
"Oh, Joe, do you think they met Will——" began Darry, and then stopped short.
"Yes, your brother is waiting to meet you," said Fetter, addressing Joe.
"Then he is also a prisoner?"
"Yes."
Joe's heart sank within him.
"If old Benson was only here!" he muttered.
Still guarding the boys, the desperadoes took their guns and also a pistol the young captain had loaned his brother.
"Now get on your horses," commanded Gilroy. "And mind, if you try to play us foul both of you will get shot."
"Are you going to take us to Captain Moore?" asked Darry.
"Perhaps."
The desperadoes would answer no more questions, and in a few minutes the whole party was off for the cave. Both Darry and Joe wished to leave behind some sort of message which Benson might pick up, but they were watched so closely they could do nothing.
When the cave was gained the boys were told to go inside and keep quiet.
"Joe! and you too, Darry!" cried Captain Moore. "I was afraid of this."
"No wonder we couldn't find you!" said Joe, and told of the hunt he and his cousin had made.
"These rascals are up to some deep game," whispered the young captain. "I just picked up a message which Gilroy must have dropped," and he told what the sheet contained.
"If I were you I'd burn the paper," said Darry. "Then he won't know you have seen it."
"No, I would like to keep the sheet——to show to Colonel Fairfield if I can manage to get away."
"Who wrote the message?"
"I have no idea. There used to be a half-breed around here whom the soldiers called Mose, but I thought he was dead. He was thick with the Modoc Indians."
"Then if he was the writer that would show that the Indians are going to help the desperadoes, wouldn't it?" asked Joe.
Before his brother could answer, Matt Gilroy stalked into the cave.
"I told you not to talk," he growled, as he cast his eye on the table and then around the rocky floor. "You can't get away, so it won't do you any good to plot against me and my men."
He was evidently looking for the sheet of paper, for presently he lit a torch and went over the whole cave carefully.
"See anything of a bit of paper around here?" he asked presently.
"What kind of a paper?" questioned Darry.
"Something with writing on it."
"I haven't seen anything."
"What was the writing about, Gilroy?" asked Captain Moore.
"That's my business. Then you haven't seen the paper? All right," and the desperado stalked from the cave again.
"That was a close shave," whispered the young captain. "And it proves that the paper is valuable and that he is worried about it."
Slowly the balance of the day wore along, and at nightfall one of the men brought them a scanty supply of food.
They ate sparingly, fearing the food might be drugged, but no evil effects followed the meal.
At the mouth of the cave sat two of the desperadoes on guard, each with his rifle across his knees.
"A dash into the darkness might save us," suggested Darry, but the captain shook his head.
"No, those fellows are too good shots," he said. "We will have to remain as we are until something turns up in our favor."
Our friends wondered if the desperadoes would remain about the cave all night. The other party which had gone off when Gilroy went for Joe and Darry had not yet returned, and the leader of the gang seemed to grow anxious concerning them.
"Something has happened to them," he said to Fetter. "Perhaps we had better send somebody off on the trail to find out what's up."
So it was agreed, and Fetter was the man chosen for the mission.
As may have been surmised by some of my readers, the other party had gone off to watch for old Benson and make him a prisoner. The crowd numbered three, and were desperadoes well acquainted with that territory.
The old scout had spent several hours in a vain endeavor to locate some buffalo, when, on resting in the crotch of a tree, he saw the desperadoes approaching.
The rascals were tired out with their search for the scout, and came to a halt directly under the tree.
"It's a fool errand," old Benson heard one of the men say. "Matt Gilroy ought to have been satisfied with corraling Captain Moore and those boys."
"The captain wants to make a grand round-up," answered another of the men. "He told me that if we missed Benson the scout might make trouble."
Benson listened to this conversation with intense interest, and soon learned the truth—that Captain Moore was already a prisoner, and that another party had gone off to bring in Joe and Darry.
"This is a nice state of affairs," he thought. "These rascals mean mischief. I wish I could get the drop on them. I'd soon teach them a thing or two."
He watched the men as a cat watches mice, and, when the party of three moved on, stole after them like an Indian on the warpath.
The desperadoes skirted the brushwood, but did not go out on the grassy slope of the valley, fearing that the old scout might be near by in hiding and see them.
They were a shiftless lot, and soon came to another halt, under some small trees. Here they threw themselves on the ground, and while two of them smoked their pipes the third indulged in a nap.
Not a great distance off was a spring of pure cold water, and presently one of the men got up and walked over to this to get a drink.
"My chance for number one!" muttered old Benson, and crawled after the desperado. As the man turned the corner of a number of rocks, he came up behind, clapped his hands over the fellow's mouth, and bore him to the earth.