Long’s Peak had been “done” to every one’s satisfaction, and other neighboring peaks had been scaled. Estes Park was now becoming so familiar an environment that the scouts no longer thrilled at each new experience, but were eagerly looking forward to fresh excitement.
“Well, Tally, how about trekking northwards?” asked Mr. Gilroy of the guide, one night after supper.
“All ’leddy,” returned the Indian.
“Frolic and Jolt seem to be deucedly gay after this long vacation,” ventured Mr. Vernon, eyeing the frisky pack-mules.
“Um—Jolt him big kick,” said Tally, signifying with a hand held above his head, how high the animal kicked that day.
“Our next lap of the journey will take all this freshness out of him, never fear!” laughed Mr. Gilroy.
That night while the scouts slept heavily, Tally heard a sound from the corral where he kept the horses and mules. He jumped up and ran over, but Jolt had broken his halter and had disappeared. He roused Mr. Gilroy and told him the news.
“Oh, let the old rascal go!” mumbled he, then turned over on his side and was fast asleep again. So Tally literally obeyed.
In the morning, however, Mr. Gilroy thought differently about his advice. Jolt was the best and strongest of the two mules, and the luggage of so many tourists was too much for Frolic, the smaller of the pack-animals.
Mr. Gilroy sighed heavily. “Well, the only thing to do is for all hands to turn out and hunt for Jolt.”
“Why not have Verny and Betty, the two tender scouts of the troop, stay and strike camp?” asked Mr. Vernon. “We can go for the mule, while they pack everything and get ready for a start along the trail when we return.”
In spite of the Captain’s vehement declarations that she was not to be classed as too young or tender to enjoy a wild hunt for a fractious mule, the two were left behind, and the others started down the trail.
After many wanderings along side trails that offered temptations to such a wayward beast as Jolt, the hunters found him. Yes, Jolt was found, but it was another thing to catch him! After many vain attempts, Tally finally lassoed him, but the kicking, jumping animal seemed to think the more he performed the better the scouts liked it. After an absence of an hour, the captors filed back to camp, where Frolic—contrarily named—stood meekly waiting to be harnessed with the packs.
While Tally placed the two wooden crates on Frolic’s back, Mr. Gilroy essayed to do the same with Jolt. But the mule had other intentions. The moment he felt the touch of the pack-frame he lit out with both hind legs. Poor Gilly not only caved in suddenly in the region under his belt, but he also sat down unceremoniously several paces behind Jolt.
“Um! Some bad Jolt!” declared Tally, scowling at the mule.
The opportune words were so amusing, that every one, Mr. Gilroy included, simply roared. But the Indian looked at them in silent wonderment. To his mind, these white men were always laughing.
Mr. Vernon now caught hold of Jolt’s bit and held his head firmly between both hands, while Tally “hitched” the mule’s feet so he could not kick or run again. Then the crates were strapped on and the packing began.
Jolt had the heaviest articles roped upon his packs. The canvas, blankets, and camping outfits were his portion. Frolic carried the duffel-bags and lighter baggage. Finally all were ready for the start.
The scouts got into the saddles, and Mr. Vernon followed suit. Tally and Mr. Gilroy were strapping the last leather around Frolic’s packs. It was necessary to pull it in another hole to keep the pack from slipping under the beast’s belly, but while Tally was so pulling it, Frolic gave a grunt. Another yank at the straps, and another louder grunt from Frolic made Betty interfere.
“I just know you are hurting poor Frolic dreadfully! She’ll have a bad stomachache from those straps that are cutting her in half!”
Every one laughed at Betty’s concern, but it drew attention to the work going on; and so, in watching Frolic being strapped up, every one forgot about Jolt. The old rascal saw his opportunity to escape to the delectable grazing ground from which he had been ruthlessly lassoed a short time before. So he wheeled and started for the trail.
But he forgot to make allowances for the projecting packs, and in passing between two tall pines with but a foot’s space between the trunks, the crates became firmly wedged. So fast was he held, in fact, that Tally grinned when Julie yelled, “Jolt’s running away again!”
Tally reassured her, “Jolt no run now—him rest awhile.”
When Frolic had been made ready to start, the men went after Jolt. The aluminum cooking-ware had been hung, the last thing, upon the sides of the packs, and now the dishes were dented almost out of shape because they were the “bumpers” that came between the packs and the treetrunks. It took some time to dislodge the mule and his packs from between the trees, as it was necessary to protect the cooking utensils as much as possible.
This delicate operation was just being completed, when a cry from the scouts drew all attention back to Frolic again.
The tautly-drawn ropes caused Frolic an unpleasant sensation after the days of freedom from harness, so when she was left quite alone, she decided that rolling might ease matters. She lay down and rolled and kicked her heels high in the air, then she rolled again. She kept it up until the scouts knew that every bottle and box in their duffel-bags must be powdered into other necessities.
Tally rushed over and gave Frolic a vicious kick that instantly stopped her rolling, and caused her to lift inquiring eyes to those about her. Strange to say, Betty offered no protest when Tally kicked the mule again, to make her get upon her feet.
“There, now!” exclaimed Julie. “See that you maintain an upright behavior, you shiftless woman!”
The others laughed, for all were gay because the signal had been given to start along the trail. All went well after that, while the mules trotted closely after the horses, and the riders congratulated themselves that henceforth their troubles with the two mules were over. But they were to be undeceived further on.
They were descending a long rough hill when Jolt, who was the last beast but one in the line, heard a strange sound coming from his packs. Tally heard and recognized the metallic banging of some pans that had become loosened when the packs were wedged between the tree trunks at the top of the mountain. But Jolt was not as wise as Tally, and the more he shook himself, and sidled against the trees, the louder came that queer jangle. Then he managed to pass between two trees in order to brush off the objectionable thing, but that made the jangling still worse. So he became desperate.
About this time, Tally rode over to the place where Jolt was trying to crush the noisy thing from his pack, and attempted to use a lash to make the beast stop his stubbornness. But the tip end of the whip was all that caught the mule, and he suddenly jumped. That made all the other utensils shake loose and rattle. This was too much for the annoyed animal, and he started to gallop down the trail.
Warning shouts from Tally made the riders in front get out of the way; the guide then threw his lasso. But it caught upon a knob that had become loose and was projecting from the crate. Jolt flew onward, but the large object that had been roped, fell upon the ground with a dull thud.
To every one’s shocked surprise, the lassoed article proved to be the only bag of flour they had at that time. The cotton container burst open with the fall, and flour dusted softly out upon the surrounding scenery.
“We can scoop most of it up and sift it,” suggested Joan.
“But what is there to put it in?” demanded Julie.
“It’s so precious—we mustn’t lose an ounce of it,” added the Captain.
“We’ll each have to take one of our large clean handkerchiefs, and fill as much in them as they will hold. The ends can be tied together, and each will have to carry her own package,” suggested Anne, who was worried lest a good meal be forfeited.
“That’s the only way, I guess,” agreed Mrs. Vernon; so each one filled a handkerchief, and the rest of the flour was then pinned in the bag and carefully placed in Mr. Gilroy’s charge.
When the riders were on the trail again, there was no sight of Jolt anywhere. Where he had gone with the camp outfit was a question. But Tally worried not. He said laconically:
“Jolt wait nex’ uphill.”
When the scouts reached the bottom of the descent, they found a swiftly-running shallow stream crossing the trail. And in this, with both packs submerged, but with head safely held above the cooling water, Jolt was stretched out.
“There he would stay, I suppose, until he was sure the queer life that made the jangle on his back, was snuffed out,” said Mr. Gilroy, chuckling at the mule’s “horse-sense.”
That day when they stopped to cook dinner, Tally was most careful to leave the pack-frames on the backs of the mules, as that would prevent fresh arguments when the time came to resume the trip.
Fish abounded everywhere,—in the streams, in the lakes, or in the wayside rivulets,—so that there was never a lack of such food. Nor did it need expert anglers to catch the fish. It seemed to the scouts that the poor things were only waiting eagerly to be caught.
Having selected the camp site, Tally suddenly stooped and examined some recently made tracks. “Bear ben here,” said he.
“Oh, a real live bear?” cried Joan.
“Did you think a dead one made those tracks?” retorted Ruth.
“I wish we could see him,” said Julie, and this wish was seconded by all the other girls.
“If you want a close acquaintance with him, just follow that track. Doubtless he is sitting behind a treetrunk this very minute, planning what to do with you after he has embraced you fondly,” said Mrs. Vernon.
“If they follow bear tracks like they followed the calf’s hoofprints, they’ll sure find something at the end of the trail,” teased Mr. Gilroy.
All that morning the sun had remained under a heavy pall of clouds, but noon brought forth its hot shining rays, and the long-reaching fingers seeming to edge the grey clouds with molten gold. During the afternoon the sun had shone fitfully, but towards evening it set in a gorgeous bath of color, the stormbanks that were piled up about it, adding a barbaric touch to the scene.
Flaunting streaks of gold and crimson shot here and there from back of the clouds; and these in turn seemed to reach out in a confused riot of dazzling purple, amber and copper-edged mountains that rose in majesty overhead.
All this wondrous coloring faded rapidly, however, and in a short time the somber gray of the clouds again predominated. Then a chill spread over everything.
“Him rain sure!” remarked Tally, holding a palm to the wind.
“When?” asked Mr. Gilroy.
“Mebbe bed-time—mebbe after night.”
“Then we’d better prepare for it beforehand,” suggested Mr. Vernon.
“Collect plenty of wood and spread the rubber sheets over it,” said Mr. Gilroy. “We’ll see that the tent ropes are well fastened to-night so the wind won’t carry away any canvas.”
Tally was right. Rain began to fall about nine o’clock. At first it came gently and unobtrusively, but soon it was driven in sheets by high winds. It was well the guide had rolled great pine stumps to the fire, to keep the necessary fuel dry through the night. Although the scouts, rolled in their rubber covers, were unconscious of the elements that raged about and over them, Tally sat up feeding the fire that kept an area about the sleepers dry all night.
Now and then the demoniacal gale would root up a mighty pine, and with a s-s-split and a cr-r-r-rash it would thud down, breaking through all the younger timber. At such sounds, the girls would murmur sleepily, “Did you see any old trees near camp?”
Invariably the reply would be, “No—only little ones.”
Then all would sleep again, relieved at such an assurance.
The camp presented a sorry appearance in the gray dawn. Everything was soaked, and the horses looked washed out. Even Jolt looked moister than when he rose out of the stream at the base of the mountain.
Later the sun glanced through dripping foliage and sent its warming beams into the stiffened joints of the campers. And when Tally had called them all to a good hot breakfast, life took on a more cheerful hue.
The tourists seldom followed the beaten trail that ran to Flat Top Mountain or to the Glaciers, because Mr. Gilroy secured better results in finding rock formations and glacial débris in going by the old Indian trails. And Tally knew these trails as well as the surveyor knows his line-maps.
Not long after the scouts had resumed their ride along one of the unfrequented trails, the party reached a mountaintop. The Leader turned her head and craned her neck in order to see what the object was that stood clearly outlined from a crag that hung over a dangerous gulch.
“A Rocky Mountain goat! I verily believe,” said Mr. Gilroy.
“Oh, oh! That’s what we want to see!” cried the girls.
“And I want to get a good picture of it,” added the Captain.
“Now’s your opportunity,” returned her husband.
“But we are too far away to focus the camera.”
“If the goat will wait, you might go over there,” laughed Mr. Gilroy.
“Verny, we could ride across this plateau and manage to get a much better focus,” suggested Julie.
“And there may be a whole herd feeding on the grass down in the glade between these cliffs,” said Mr. Gilroy.
“Oh, let’s go and see!” teased the scouts; so the horses were left with Tally, and their riders crept carefully across the grassy knolls and glades that hid from their view the ravine where they hoped to see the goats.
They were well rewarded for their trouble, too. Down in the green basin, under the crag where the ram kept guard for his sheep and ewes, grazed a large flock of Rocky Mountain goats. The scouts had a sight such as few tourists ever are blessed with, and Mrs. Vernon took a whole film of excellent snapshots,—all but one exposure, and that was left on the chance of an unusual sight.
While they stood watching the herd, a great ram was seen bounding recklessly along the edge of the cliff that formed the wall of the glade directly opposite the scouts. He nimbly jumped from ledge to ledge down this almost perpendicular wall, and soon reached the herd.
Then another ram, that first sighted by the riders, also started down, going where there seemed to be absolutely no foothold for him. He would spring from the ledge and, scarcely touching the side rock with his hoofs, land upon a bit of shelf, thence on down to another tiny ledge far beneath, and so on until he reached the glade.
The two rams now conveyed an alarm to the sheep, and forthwith they started up the perpendicular wall at the end of the glen, winding a way along one ledge after another where no visible foothold was seen with the naked eye. Yet they found one, for they climbed, and having reached the top of the wall, they disappeared.
“Oh, pshaw! I meant to snap the last exposure with that wonderful picture of the herd going up the wall,” exclaimed Mrs. Vernon in evident disappointment.
“You’re lucky to get the ones you did, Captain. These Rocky Mountain sheep are the wildest on earth, and seldom can man come near enough to get snapshots as you did to-day. The Peruvian goats and those in Arabia are agile and daring, but they do not compare with these goats for agility, and faith in their footsteps.
“When we go further North in the mountains, this scene we just witnessed will seem like child’s play to the feats those goats will accomplish.
“The lambs are even more intrepid than the elders, and have not the slightest bit of fear of falling. Strangely enough, they seldom fall, and are hardly ever injured. It is said that the only risks they run are when they happen to jump in strange territory where the ledges and footholds are not understood.”
As Mr. Gilroy finished his interesting description, Mr. Vernon added, “I’ve read that the injuries or death that come to these little athletes are due to their traveling in strange places and along unfamiliar trails, as you just mentioned. But in their own crags and mountain recesses, no hunter can ever trap them. They will jump, no matter from what height, and are always sure of a secure footing somewhere.”
The scouts were so absorbed in listening that they had paid little attention to their own footsteps as they retraced their way to join Tally. Here and there were small pits almost hidden by the long slippery grass that grew on and hung over the edges.
Julie was about to draw every one’s attention to a great bird that hovered overhead, when her foot slipped on such grass and, in trying to catch hold of something to waylay her descent into the shallow pit, she managed to lay hold of Mr. Gilroy’s leg. In another moment, he was sliding down with her.
“Look pleasant!” warned the Captain, as she quickly snapped a picture on the last exposure of the roll, and then laughed merrily as she turned the knob that wound up the film securely.
When the two coasters managed to scramble out of the hollow, midst the laughter of all, Mrs. Vernon said, “I am glad now that my last picture will be one so fitting to be shown with the others of the Rocky Mountain Athletes.”
A great ram came out opposite the scouts
While seeking for a likely spot where they could pitch camp that night, Mr. Vernon saw smoke ascending from the pines a short distance away. Fearing lest a fire had started in some way, Mr. Gilroy and he quickly sought for the place and came upon an old acquaintance. Mr. Lewis and his guide, Omney, to say nothing of their Irish terrier, Scrub, were in camp, eating supper.
It was a pleasant surprise for both Mr. Lewis and Mr. Gilroy, as the two geologists had not met since their trip in the mountains many years before. So both parties soon joined camps and enjoyed themselves immensely.
After supper that night, the girl scouts heard of many wonderful experiences these friends had shared—the jaunts and jeopardies that always provide such thrilling stories after they are over. Finally Mr. Lewis remarked, “I came here this summer to hunt out a few of those glacial specimens we missed the last time, Gilroy.”
“Now, that’s strange, Lewis, because that is why I am here. Dr. Hayden mentions some in his latest book, and Tyndall Glacier is the only place I’ve ever heard of where there is any such moraine,” said Mr. Gilroy.
“Have you been there, yet?” asked Mr. Lewis.
“No, ‘but I’m on my way,’” laughed the scientist.
“Then take me with you, old pal! How about the rest of your party,” said Mr. Lewis.
“Oh, Mr. Vernon is fast becoming as infatuated with the hunt for specimens as you or I ever were. So we’ll share fifty-fifty if we can find anything worthwhile.”
“And the ladies?” added Mr. Lewis.
“As they are tried and trusty scouts, they are fit for any trial of courage or endurance—is that enough?”
“That’s a splendid recommendation for any one, Gilroy, but have you told them that exploring these glaciers is not as easy as sitting beside a fire and talking of the thrills?”
“I have no idea of dragging them down through the moraines with us; but they can accompany us on the trail and enjoy the camp while we wander about in our hunting. The guides can plan the girls’ recreation for the time we are absent. Now, how does that strike every one?” said Mr. Gilroy.
Of course, every one agreed that the plan was great, so they rode forward in the morning, bound for the district around Tyndall Glacier. When they found a place that would make a comfortable camp for the time, the Indians went to work to arrange things for a week, or more, according to the geologists’ plans.
Camp was pitched upon a knoll with plenty of pine trees so standing that natural tentpoles were readymade. The rain would drain from all sides of the knoll, and at one side ran a stream of pure spring-water. From the front of this campsite one could see the cold forbidding peak of Tyndall Glacier.
Mr. Lewis’s guide, whose baptismal name was as difficult to pronounce as Tally’s, was called Omney,—that being a good imitation of what it really was. Julie, who was always doing something funny, named him “Hominy.”
As soon as the campsite had been decided upon, the two guides told the scouts to clear away all excrescences from the ground. This meant they had to take axes and cut out all brush and roots that would interfere with comfortable walking about. Then the girls said the place was as clean as a whistle, and Tally went over it carefully. But it was amazing how many “stick-up” obstacles he found, where everything had seemed so smooth.
While Tally was doing this, Omney supervised the cooking of supper, and soon various savory odors greeted the nostrils of the hungry scouts. Every one was ready to eat when Omney announced that it was ready, and then there was a period of silence for a time.
Supper was over with the sunset, and the long purpling shadows of the mountains crept up while the guides placed fresh fuel on the fire and sat down to smoke their pipes. The Rocky Mountain wilderness, untamed as yet, closed in about the group that sat around the fire, while certain unfamiliar sounds of wildlife in the forest reached the ears of the scouts; but they cared not for prowling creatures there and then, because the campfire provided ample protection.
The two Indians, not having seen each other since their masters’ last trip, were in high feather; and when Mr. Gilroy suggested that they entertain the party, they quickly responded. Omney first chanted his tribe’s Medicine Song; but before he sang he made obeisance to the four winds of heaven,—the North, East, South, and West,—that neither wind should forget Him who held them in the palms of His hands. He then explained that this honor and the song to follow were the opening forms to their daily worship of the Great Spirit.
He began in a deep-toned rhythmical chant, and he proceeded with the syncopated melody, now and then sifting in some queer sounds that may have been words, while he kept time with hands and feet. Finally this motion seemed to become an obsession, and he accompanied his sudden cries and exclamations with muscular actions and twists of his supple limbs. When he reached this point in the Medicine Song, Tally caught up a pan, and with muffled sticks beat time to the singing.
After a period of this weird performance, Omney began to circle the fire; Tally springing up, followed him in the dance. Their bodies doubled, turned, and twisted about, as if controlled by galvanic batteries. Their sharp ejaculations and hisses, interspersed in the singing, gave a colorful effect impossible to describe.
Suddenly, as if arrested by a shock, both Indians stood erect and perfectly still. They turned as if on pivots to glance upward, and saluted the four winds of heaven; then walked slowly over and sat down. Their performance was ended.
The encore they received was acknowledged with dignified smiles, but Omney made no sign to repeat his act. Then Tally stood up and bowed. He caught up a blanket that covered a balsam bed near by, and wrapped it about his erect form. He walked to the center of the camp circle and made a graceful acknowledgment for both entertainers; then he began to speak in a softly modulated voice, and with gestures that would have created envy in the best elocutionist, fascinating to any one who knew him as the quiet and unobtrusive guide.
“Brothers, I tell you the tale of the Blackfeet Tribe, how Thunder won his bride, and lost her again.
“In the long ago, when the Sky-People used to visit the Earth-Folk frequently, to demand pelts and other good things from the Earth Children in return for sparing their camps from the destructive lightnings and floods, three young maidens went to the woods to dig herbs.
“One of these three was the loveliest maiden to be found for many a league, and many a Brave had tried to win her affections. But she was fond only of her old father, Lame Bull.
“While Mink Maiden and her two companions were placing their herbs in bundles to carry back to camp, a dark thundercloud swept over the place, and passed on. However, it seemed as if venting its fury on the camp where the maidens lived.
“Then fell Mink Maiden upon her knees and promised Thunder Chief, saying, ‘Spare my father and I will obey you in any way you may desire.’
“Thunder laughed, for that was exactly what he had hoped for. He instantly withdrew his storm from over the terrified village, and came close to the maiden who had made the rash promise.
“‘I shall come for you soon, Mink Maiden, to ask you to keep your word.’ With these words, Thunder flew away to the sky and disappeared through a hole.
“Soon again, the three maidens went to the woods for herbs and while two of them stopped to dig some roots, Mink Maiden went on alone. She saw a plant, rare and greatly desired by Lame Bull, and she pushed a way through the bushes to dig up the root. But when she reached the spot where it had been, she saw nothing.
“Suddenly, without sound or other sign, a handsome young chief stood where the plant had been. Mink Maiden was surprised, but when he spoke, saying, ‘I am waiting for you to be my bride—will you come with me?’ the maiden knew him.
“‘I am Thunder Chief, and am come to have you redeem your vow.’
“Mink Maiden saw that he was tall and handsome, and naturally brave. He smiled so kindly that she knew he was gentle. But she coyly asked, ‘What must I do to keep my word with you?’
“‘Be my wife. Come with me to reign over the Sky People, for I am their Chief.’ As he spoke he held forth his hands, and Mink Maiden placed her own confidently within his.
“He enfolded her closely in his cloak of winds, and springing up from the ground, carried her through the hole in the sky.
“When the two companions of Mink Maiden sought for her, she was not to be found anywhere. They ran to Lame Bull’s lodge to tell him of her disappearance, and the entire village turned out to seek her. Everywhere they sought her, for she was beloved by young and old alike, but she was not found nor did they hear what had happened to her.
“Then came a stranger to that village and asked for Lame Bull’s lodge. He was Medicine Crow Man, who had long desired Mink Maiden for a wife. He had heard of her disappearance and by making strong medicine had learned where she was.
“After telling Lame Bull how he loved his daughter, and that he had power to find her, the old father promised that should Crow Man but find where she was, he should have Mink Maiden for a wife when she returned home.
“Crow Man then caught a blackbird and poured oil of black magic on his tail feathers. The bird was sent up into the sky to find if the lost maiden could be enticed to come back home. After several days the blackbird returned to Crow Man.
“‘I could not fly through the hole in the sky, as the people have been ordered to close it with a great plant-root. But I sat on the under part of the roots and heard what was said. And this is it:
“‘Thunder Chief carried Mink Maiden away to be his wife. He commanded that the hole be sealed, that his bride might not see through it and be tempted to return to her home. I heard say that she is very happy with Thunder Chief, and never thinks of those she left on earth.’
“‘Very good, Blackbird, and for this news your tail feathers shall always shine as if with oil. But your curiosity and love for gossip must remain part of your weaknesses,’ said Crow Man.
“He then went to Lame Bull and told all that he had learned through the blackbird. Then the villagers began to mourn Mink Maiden as one lost to them, for they never expected to see her again. But Crow Man determined to use every art in his power until she should come back.
“Time went by and the maiden was contented with Thunder Chief, and never remembered her earth people, for the root choked up the hole in the sky where memory might slip through.
“But one day she saw some people bring home herbs and roots which they had dug for the Chief. Mink Maiden asked them where they found them as she, too, wished to dig some. They told her where to go for them, and with basket on her arm she went forth.
“It happened that it was the summertime, when Thunder Chief had to be away many times, fighting the earth people with storms, so she wandered away alone from the lodge where she lived with her husband.
“She sought eagerly for the plant she wanted, until she finally came to the great root that blocked the hole in the sky. This she thought must be the place where the other women dug, and she forthwith began to dig also. When she had dug deeply, she pulled on the root, and up it came, leaving a great hole where it had been.
“Mink Maiden was amazed at the size of the root, and leaning over, gazed into the hole, and far down saw the earth. At the same time a blackbird flew quite near the hole, and said, ‘Mink Maiden, your father cries for you to come home.’
“Then memory returned to the maiden, and she remembered her people. When Thunder Chief returned from his battles, he found his beloved wife in tears. She cried that she wished to visit her own people on earth. And so, after useless pleadings with her, the husband agreed to take her home for a visit.
“Accordingly, he flew with her to Lame Bull’s lodge and left her to visit her father. She looked well and comely, and the old Chief was overjoyed to see his child again. When she told how happy she was with Thunder Chief, the father sighed.
“‘I had hoped you would choose to live on earth where I could visit you. Crow Man loves you, and has been here many times to ask for you.’ Lame Bull then told of the promise he had made Crow Man.
“But the Mink Maiden laughed, saying, ‘I am married to Thunder Chief, so Crow Man cannot have me.’
“In a short time after this, Thunder Chief came for his wife, and asked Lame Bull to forgive him for carrying away his only child. Then Lame Bull said, ‘Allow her to remain yet a short time.’
“Thunder Chief presented his father-in-law with a Medicine pipe, and taught him to sing the Sky Song that would always protect his tribe from storms and destruction from lightning. Then he turned to his wife and bade her good-by for a time, adding, ‘I will return soon for you, so be ready to go home. You shall visit your father often after this.’
“He then flew away and Mink Maiden sat with her father for several days, waiting for her husband to come. But there had been a dreadful commotion in the sky the day after he flew away from the village, and the people said they had never seen such blinding lights and such terrific rumbles, so the wife knew her husband was having a great battle with some one.
“The cause was, Crow Man had fought with Thunder Chief, although Mink Maiden never knew that. Crow Man was subdued for that time, but in the fall he sent the blackbird northward to call out all the Arctic forces to come and help keep Thunder Chief from coming to earth to carry back his wife. And so they did.
“Crow Man called often at Lame Bull’s lodge and all through the winter, when Mink Maiden sighed because her husband came not, Crow Man felt happy and tried to make her believe Thunder Chief had forgotten her.
“Then spring came on, and Mink Maiden wondered still more because she heard nothing of her husband, nor came he to the lodge. Crow Man urged his suit, but she laughed, for she was a wife already, she told him.
“All through that second year she sat in her father’s lodge and waited; but not a word heard she from the Sky People, nor did Thunder Chief come for her, although she was told that he had been heard of in other parts of the country, so it was learned that he was alive and active. Strange to say, neither Mink Maiden nor Lame Bull remembered the Medicine that had been given the old Chief, to keep away all storms from the tribe. This had proved so effectual that Thunder Chief could not communicate with his wife because of it, and she never went beyond the village limits, where he might have met her.
“That winter Crow Man urged his love again, and begged Mink Maiden to marry him, so she finally sighed and said:
“‘I am Thunder Chief’s wife, but if he does not come to claim me in another year, I will go with you.’
“Crow Man was overjoyed at hearing this, and he worked very hard to keep away all reports of Thunder Chief from the village. Then, as Mink Maiden waited hopelessly for the return of her husband, the year rolled by and Crow Man came for her. So she followed him to his lodge, although she still remembered Thunder Chief with regret.
“Crow Man was jealous of her memories and was determined to cure her. So he planned a dreadful thing. He sent the blackbird for the North Forces, and when they came in obedience to his order, he told them what they must do.
“Then he asked Mink Maiden to walk with him through the lovely woods a distance from the village. And as they walked, the wife saw Thunder Chief approach with outstretched arms and call to her in a yearning voice. He cried, ‘At last, my beloved, you are where I can reach you. All these moons have I longed to meet you, but you sat in the lodge where my own Medicine that I gave your father, kept me away.’
“Thunder Chief hurried forward, but the Arctic Forces ran out from their hiding-places and fell upon Thunder Chief, just as he was waiting to enfold his beloved in his cloak. With their cold icy blasts and whirling snow and sleet, they overpowered poor Thunder Chief. In spite of his roaring and sharp lightnings, his power was frozen into sharp points. And that is how icicles came to be upon all Nature’s trees and bushes when the North Forces scatter broadcast the power of the Sky Forces.
“Mink Maiden saw her beloved turned to ice before her eyes, and she went away, weeping, to her home with Lame Bull. And Crow Man besought her in vain to return to his lodge. She would not, and that is why the Crow always calls, ‘Come, come, come!’
“And every year when the time returns that Thunder Chief came for his bride and the North Forces overpowered him, you will see Mink Maiden come from the woods, weeping over her lost love.”
When Tally concluded this legend, the scouts called for another, but Mr. Gilroy mentioned that the three men planned to get an early start for the glacier fields and it was time to retire. So the two guides prepared the fire for the night and the girls began their good-nights.
Mr. Lewis stopped them, however. “Scouts, I want to say a word to you. I notice that you do not know the Indian walk—the only way to walk in the woods and not grow weary. In fact, the way all the wild creatures walk, whether they run or creep, without making a sound that will attract attention to them.”
“No one ever gave it a thought, Lewis,” admitted Mr. Gilroy. “Now that you mention it, suppose you show the girls, and let them practice, to-morrow, with the guides to teach them.”
Mr. Lewis then demonstrated the white man’s walk and the natural gait of the Indian. The two guides walked to show exactly what he meant, and then the girls were told to do it.
“Walk perfectly erect,—not leaning from the waist-line forward, as most people do. Plant your feet with more weight coming upon the sole instead of on the heel of the foot. Always turn your toes straight forward, and take your steps, one foot directly in front of the other so that the track you leave will look like a one-footed man walking a chalk-line.
“Once you have acquired this gait, you will wonder that you ever walked in any other manner. You can walk a narrow ledge, or stick to any foothold that a living creature can go on, without slipping from lack of room for your feet.
“But the greatest benefit such a walk is for one in the forests, is that you can proceed without making any noise. You will not be soaked with the dew that remains on leaves or undergrowth; and after you have taken a long hike you will feel fresh, and have enough energy to start on another trip.”
The scouts practiced that night, and had many a good laugh at the awkward steps they took when first trying the Indian gait. But they finally acquired it, and with daily practice in the woods, they soon walked as well as Mr. Lewis himself.
Mr. Lewis’s dog, Scrub, was a never-ending source of fun and entertainment for the scouts. He was a most intelligent animal, and understood everything said to him. In fact, his owner said that Scrub was far more intelligent and practical than many human beings he had known. He also told the girls that they could follow Scrub into the woods if the guides could not go with them, and he would always bring them back by easy trails—he had such a wonderful sense of location and traveling.
The first day in camp, after the three men had started for the glacier field, Tally and Omney had to complete minor details in the camping arrangements, so the scouts did not ask to be taken for a hike up the mountainside. Scrub nosed about for a time, trying to attract the girls’ attention by his “talk” but when they failed to understand, he ran away alone, and was not seen again until late that afternoon.
He came tearing into camp, barking excitedly, and jumping about the guides and the scouts, as if to tell them of some thrilling adventure he had experienced in the woods that day. They made much of him, but finally his master scolded him for barking so shrilly, so Scrub placed his stub tail between his hind legs and crept under a tree.
The next day Scrub began again to caper about and bark excitedly to invite the scouts to go hunting with him. But they laughed, and Julie said to him, “We’re going with Tally and Hominy after a while.”
It was not, however, to Scrub’s liking that they tarried so long in camp, and he started away alone. Then when the guides were all ready to go with the scouts, the dog was not to be found.
“Ev’buddy take gun dis time,” suggested Tally.
“Oh, what fun! Shall we find any wild animals?” asked Joan.
“Mebbe—dunno.”
The Captain warned the girls about using the rifles without first noting all the conditions, and told them not to use them under any circumstances if there was no danger. As each scout knew perfectly well how to carry the firearm so as to protect others, and as every one used precaution at all times, there was no risk of accident.
The woods were still wet from the heavy night-dew, but the girls found their newly-acquired step protected their skirts from much moisture. The sun was sending its searching light into every secret nook of the forest, and soon the dew evaporated and the gloom in the dense woods brightened. The many hitherto hidden things in the forest now stood clearly revealed in the sunshine.
They followed the trail that led up the mountainside back of the camp. Tally waved his hand in an inclusive sweep at the sun, then at the forest it shone upon, and remarked, “Him no shine in long. Onny mornin’—den shadow come back an’ fores’ grow black agin.”
The scouts were eagerly gazing at one thing or another in their progress up the steep trail when Betty gave a little cry and jumped out of the way.
“What is it—a rattler?” cried many voices, anxiously.
“No, but the cutest little rabbit I ever saw,—just like the one Verny caught and helped in the Adirondacks, you know.”
Tally then added, “No rattlers on dis side Rockies, all on udder side mountains.”
“Betty’s scream would make one think she was facing a grizzly!” said Julie, scornfully.
“I wasn’t frightened,—it startled me, that’s all,” Betty said, defensively.
“Was it big enough for rabbit pie?” asked Anne, unwittingly calling down the reproaches of all the scouts upon her head.
As they scolded Anne for always thinking of something to eat,—even a darling little rabbit,—Tally suddenly held up a hand for silence. Instantly everything was quiet. Then they heard distinctly the plaintive cry of a distressed animal.
“Dat deer call. Him ’fraid an’ need help. Shall us go?” explained Tally.
“Oh, yes, Tally, by all means!” exclaimed Mrs. Vernon.
So they pushed a way through the thick screen of pines until they came to a clearing where the trees had been burned down. The sun shone into the place, clearly showing the scene of a forest tragedy which was about to be enacted there.
The two guides made way for the scouts to crowd up beside them, and there they saw a well-grown deer in the center of the tiny park. It was still young and inexperienced, as was shown by the way it backed around and voiced its horror and fear.
“What is it afraid of, Tally?” questioned the Captain, because her unaccustomed eyes saw nothing to fear.
“See on limb dere—where deer must go if she like to get out?” whispered Tally, pointing to one end of the clearing where a giant pine spread its branches far over the place.
Along the lowest bough crouched a panther, ready to leap. Its green eyes gleamed with hungry desire for the choice breakfast so near, and its sinuous tail whipped gracefully back and forth against the tree. But its gaze wavered from the deer to something at the other end of the clearing. What could be restraining this ferocious beast, whose claws, as they dug sharp nails into the wood of the tree, appeared ready to rip open the tender flesh of its prey?
Two sides of the clearing were made impassable for the deer by the close growth of aspens, interlocked like a brush-fence. At one end of the clearing the panther kept guard, but what was the cause of the starting eyes of the deer as it gazed at the nearer end—the end where the scouts stood?
“Ah, Omney—see?” breathed Tally, softly, as he pointed.
Then they saw a grey-brown animal about the size of Scrub, with a stubby tail. Its body was thick and short, and its head was round. It had gleaming eyes, green-slitted like a cat’s. Its ears were sharp-pointed and stood erect. The mouth was partly open, with the tongue showing its red edge between the fanglike teeth. Its rusty color merged so perfectly with the bushes that it was small wonder the scouts had not seen it immediately.
Its expression, the crouching pose, its tense muscles—all denoted its eagerness to taste the blood of the deer, but there was the panther to reckon with first! Now the girls realized the danger of the young deer. How could the poor thing hope to escape from a panther and a lynx?
When the lynx sensed the human beings, she snarled viciously, but showed no fear. Her entire attention was given to the movements of the panther. But the fact that her natural enemies, human beings, stood so close to her, made her act sooner than she might have done.
Tally whispered the situation in a breath. “Pant’er no jump, fear lynx get him an’ en get deer. Lynx ’fraid to jump firs’ ’cause pant’er den jump on bof an’ eat ’em.”
Then Omney whispered, “Tally shoot pant’er, an’ me shoot lynx—same time. When I say fire—den shoot!”
So the two guides slowly lifted their rifles and aimed. But the lynx had crept closer to the deer, which in turn sent a swift look of apprehension back at the beast that was now preparing to spring the moment the lynx leaped. The deer lifted its muzzle high and bleated forth a wailing cry, and at the same moment two rifles sounded.
The instant before they rang out, the lynx had jumped right at the throat of the deer, and the instant after the panther had leaped also. The bullet sped faster than the lynx could spring, and the latter fell with a heavy thud to roll over in the buffalo grass at the forefeet of the deer.
Omney’s shot at the panther, however, struck its right shoulder instead of a fatal spot. When the lynx rolled under the nose of the panic-stricken deer, the poor creature jumped over against the wall of aspens, and this leap spared its life. For the panther, instead of ripping open its throat as it planned to do, clawed a tear in its side and then rolled over on the grass. Instantly, the wild beast was up and about to spring again, when a shot from Tally’s gun ended its preying.
The frightened deer had seen the animal rise to spring again, but her eyes were so blinded with the pain and fury of the gash in her side, that she leaped high and brought both hoofs down upon her dead antagonist. Again and again she lifted her stiffened forelegs and drove her sharp hoofs into the spine of the dead panther. Finally, however, the deer realized that her enemy was dead, and swiftly she wheeled and fled from the clearing through the opening opposite the scouts.
As she disappeared, the girls relaxed the nervous tension that had held them absolutely motionless during the battle. Now they sighed, and Mrs. Vernon sat down where she had stood. Betty began crying softly, and said, “The poor deer! I hope its side will heal.”
“Sure! Him go roll in mud of shallow spring and it heal,” Tally assured her.
The lynx and panther were found to be splendid specimens of their individual kinds, and the scouts had the satisfaction of knowing that this big game had not been shot for mere sport. But, having saved the deer’s life by shooting the two wild beasts, the pelts naturally became trophies for the scouts to send home.
“They’re awfully big brutes, girls. We’ll never be able to carry them both back to camp to-day,” said Mrs. Vernon.
“Skin ’em—onny take back pelts,” said Omney.
“We want to have them stuffed, Hominy, so we need the heads and feet, too,” said Julie.
Tally looked at Omney and spoke in his native language. Then he turned to the scouts and interpreted what he said.
“I say, Omney skin animals wid head an’ feet on—us go on an’ help Omney on way back. Him done skin den.”
As no new adventure befell them that day, they retraced their steps and stopped for Omney and the pelts. That night the story was told to the three men, and it lost none of its coloring by having five scouts tell it, turn and turn about.
Scrub did not return to camp that night, and Mr. Lewis told Omney to start immediately after breakfast in the morning and see if any untoward accident had happened to the dog. Tally and the scouts would not remain behind, for they were very fond of the pet and worried lest he had been killed by a wild beast.
They chose the trail they had seen Scrub take the two previous days, and after climbing the mountain for a time, Tally and Omney argued over following a faint trail through a jungle. Tally pointed to a paw-track in the soft earth, but Omney declared it was not a dog’s track.
Yet Tally won his way, and started into the dense thicket. He had not gone more than a few yards before he exclaimed jubilantly and pointed to a wisp of Scrub’s hair that had been caught on a briar. Then Omney meekly admitted that Tally must be right in his intuitions.
After following the faint trail for a short time, Julie called out, “I’m sure I heard a dog bark just now.”
“Let’s shout. Maybe Scrub’s lost and is calling to us,” explained Betty, anxiously.
“Lost! Now Betty, you don’t know that dog if you say he could be lost,” retorted Joan.
They all distinctly heard a shrill bark, now, and Tally said, “Sound like him got wild animal trapped, an’ wan’ us help.”
Finally they were near enough to hear Scrub bark and yelp in reply to the plaintive whining of some other animal. Then Tally advised the girls, “You no call Scrub when you come up. Dog look to see you, an’ animal jump on him. No say anyting, but wait an’ let Tally shoot.”
This was hard sense, and the scouts agreed to obey. Just then they reached a spot where the forest trees were not so closely grown. Tally held his rifle ready to shoot if necessary, to spare the dog’s life, but when he came out of the fringe of pines that circled the small clearing where the dog barked, he stood amazed.
The scouts deplored the fact that the camera had been left at camp, as usual, for here was a most unique picture. Scrub stood stiffly, the hair along his spine standing upright from excitement. His stub tail vibrated so swiftly that one could not see it move—it seemed a blur of action. His front legs were braced, and he was yelping and barking at two little bear cubs.
They appeared as distressed and confused as the dog. One, the larger of the two, glared at Scrub with ferocious mien and at intervals, when the dog stopped barking for time to breathe, it would charge threateningly, but never got near enough to grapple with the dog.
The smaller cub circled whiningly about a huddled mass that lay under a great pine log. It would sniff about the heap and then sit upon its little haunches and cry quiveringly. It was this wail the scouts had heard in the distance.
At times Scrub would run over to the trail whence he found his friends approaching, then the little male-cub would join his sister at the black heap, and both would whine pitifully to the mother that was insensible to their cry. The moment Scrub was aware of any movement on the part of his opponent, he would tear back to engage his enemy in another wrangle of sounds.
“Um! No wonder Scrub no come home las’ night!” laughed Tally.
“Maybe that’s why he was so excited the night before—he wanted to tell us,” ventured Joan.
“Yes, but I’m surprised that he remained, when he found we would not follow him,” added Julie.
“He may have feared we might move camp and he would be left behind,” suggested Mrs. Vernon.
“I go see why mudder don’ help cubs,” said Tally. So he started across the clearing, followed by the girls.
“Um! See—big log fall from tree jus’ when bear go un’ner,” said the Indian, pointing up at the split bough that had been severed by lightning, with its heavy end left dangling for a time. It had fallen and struck the black mother-bear just as she was passing under, and it must have instantly killed her.
“The poor little babies!” sighed Betty.
“Can’t we catch them and train them?” asked Julie, eagerly.
“Dem die sure in woods—or beastes eat ’em,” said Tally.
“Dear me, we mustn’t have that!” cried Mrs. Vernon.
“If we could only tame them and send them to the Zoo in New York—what a fine thing that would be for the Girl Scouts’ Organization. It would be quite an honor,” exclaimed Ruth.
During the unfamiliar sound and sight of the scouts, the cubs blinked fearfully at them. What new calamity was now at hand—and mother lying there so still and helpless?
Scrub was ordered away from the bears and made to mind, while Tally planned how to catch the cubs.
“I use rope an’ lasso bof,” said he.
“We’ll surround the cubs, Tally, and Scrub can keep guard so they won’t run away, while you catch them,” planned Julie.
It was an easy task to catch the little girl-cub and tie her to a tree near the mother bear. But it was another matter to catch the boy-cub. Tally threw the lasso, but it merely struck the rump of the little fellow as he turned to investigate what his sister, who had been given a chunk of cake by one of the scouts, was eating.
The cub resented the slap from the rope, and snapped at it. But Tally dragged the lasso back, coaxing the bear-cub much nearer. When the rope was caught up to coil again, the frightened little fellow raced back to the tree where his sister sat. He was so cunning in his awkward gait that the scouts laughed heartily.
This time the rope caught him truly, and he rolled over with a jerk. He clawed and snapped and yelped at the bonds that kept him from running away; and when Tally took in the rope, the cub snapped viciously at him. Then the guide had to throw his coat over the cub’s head and fall upon it to wrap him in the folds.
But the forepaws were free, so the cub used them well, trying to tear the garment away from his head. So strong was the little fellow that Tally had his hands full to finally tie him about the neck. In this fight the cub earned his name of “Snap.”
When both cubs were securely tied to the tree, Tally went over to examine the old mother-bear. The scouts followed and stood looking down upon the huge body sprawled under the heavy log.
“Her dead at once. Her not hear babies cry—or nuddin’,” explained Tally, trying to lift the log from her back.
Several of the scouts assisted and soon the tree bough was rolled away, Scrub managing to get in every one’s way during the procedure.
“Her dead mos’ two day—babies no get milk to eat,” said Tally, after examining the teats and body of the bear.
“Mebbe we coax home wid eats,” suggested he, as he glanced from mother to cubs and back again.
“Tally, I brought some candy in my pocket,” said Anne, instantly producing the sweets.
“Bear like sugar. Us lead cubs easy wid dis.”
“Tally, how can we keep this dead bear so we can have her skin, too,” now asked Julie, anxiously.
“Oh, if we could only ship home such a magnificent bear pelt, wouldn’t we be proud!” sighed Joan.
“Kin skin and bury ’um now. Come back mornin’ an’ carry to camp. Got han’ full wid two cub to-day,” grinned the Indian.
“Oh, if you boys would skin it and save it for us!” sighed several eager scouts.
So the guides sharpened their great knives that they always carried in their belts, and began work on the dead bear. The girls would have fainted at such a sight a year before, but now they stood by without a quiver and watched the Indians skin the animal.
The pelt was soon stripped from the carcass, and the former was buried deep under the log, while the latter was left for the wolves, or other animals. While Tally finished this work the scouts gathered berries to feed to the starved cubs. The latter were so famished that they eagerly ate everything given them.
All the way home the scouts took turns in holding bits of candy in front of the cubs’ noses, to make them run for it. At some of these “home-runs” the cubs got the best of it, and the scouts had to drop the candy and jump aside, or be clawed in the bears’ eagerness to get the sweets. At such times Scrub barked and jumped at the harnessed cubs, and they in turn would fight back, so there ensued a wild scene of battle until Tally got the upper hand again.
Once the cubs were in camp and caged they became tame and friendly with every one,—even Scrub failed to draw a snarl from Snap now. The smaller of the two bears was named Yap, as she was forever wanting something to eat and yapped when she could not get it.
In a few days’ time they were freed from the homemade cage and tethered to a tree during the daytime. They furnished great amusement for the scouts; and Scrub was peeved because every one showed so much attention to these horrid little brutes, while he would permit petting without a snap if his friends were so inclined.
The campers had been on this site for almost two weeks before the men mentioned that they were ready to move along. The cubs were quite tame now, and ran about camp, playing with every one who would play with them. They were fine and plump, and the scouts gave much time to the currying of their soft silky coats and to teaching them tricks.
“What do you scouts intend doing with Snap and Yap when we start on the trail again?” asked Mr. Gilroy.
“Where do you plan to go from here, Gilly?” asked Julie.
“Why, Lewis is going back now that he has secured the special specimens he came to the glaciers for,” returned Mr. Gilroy; “but we are to go along to Flat Top, where I hope to spend some time at Tyndall, you know.”
“You told me, Gill, that you wanted to visit Mills’ Moraine and hunt for glacial deposits there,” ventured Mr. Lewis.
“So I did, but it is simply impossible for me to lead the scouts such a dance, and now that they have two bears to dance along with them, I shall have to forego Mills’,” laughed Mr. Gilroy, longingly.
“Is Mr. Lewis going right back to Denver, did you say?” asked Julie.
“Yes, he has a public lecture to give at the Auditorium, so he cannot go on with us,” explained Mr. Vernon.
“Then listen to my idea, and tell me what you think of it—everybody,” exclaimed Julie, eagerly.
“Why can’t Mr. Lewis take back our pelts and the cubs, and express them home for us?”
The very audacity of the suggestion made every one laugh at first, but after much talking it seemed not so impossible.
“Then Gilly and Uncle can go through their wonderful heaps of glacial débris, while Tally guides us along the trail to the Flat Top. We will meet again at the foot of Tyndall Glacier,” said Julie.
So out of all the talking and planning this was the result: Frolic was selected as being the best-behaved of the two mules; the double crate was harnessed to her back, and in each crate a little cub was secured. The pelts of the bear, the panther, and the lynx were strapped across her back, and she was ready to start back to Long’s Peak village, with Mr. Lewis and Omney. There the bears would be crated anew, and shipped to the Zoo at Central Park, New York City, while the pelts were to be expressed to Mrs. Vernon’s home to await the scouts’ return.
Mr. Lewis was then to send Frolic back with Omney, who was to trail with the party and help Tally in various ways, while his master finished his lecture tour in Colorado.
The morning of their departure, the cubs were scrubbed, combed, and fed to repletion by the scouts, then secured in the crates. They were oblivious of the tears shed by the scouts over their soft little bodies, for they were curled up and fast asleep after such a hearty breakfast.
When Mr. Lewis and Omney rode down the trail, the scouts wept forlornly while the little party was in sight, but once a bend in the pathway was turned, Scrub came in for his full share of love and petting again.
“If we could only have kept the cubs with us!” sighed Joan.
“Thank heavens we have Scrub left as a hostage for Frolic,” sighed Ruth, hugging the dog, who now ignored every fond attention.
“As it was impossible to ‘travel light’ with two bears, isn’t it much better the way we arranged it, girls?” asked Mrs. Vernon.
And they had to admit that such was the case.