For once Billie was perfectly willing that his chum should undertake to do all the talking. He felt himself that he might not be equal to such a tremendous undertaking as handling this job. And he had perfect confidence in Adrian, who always managed to keep his wits about him under the most exciting conditions.
Indeed, it looked as though they were close upon the edge of serious trouble. That aroused old wizard of the Zunis was bearing down upon the little camp among the rocks like a pirate craft under a full spread of canvas. While his “get-up” was of such a character that he always impressed Billie as a “holy terror,” according to the boy’s way of expressing it, still right then and there he had such a black and forbidding look on his face that he seemed doubly ferocious.
No wonder the old wizard was furious, when his most highly prized possession, the Sacred Belt, said to have come down direct to him from the Great Manitou of the Zunis, and looked upon with the highest veneration and awe by every member of the tribe, had mysteriously disappeared.
He knew full well that no Zuni, young or old, could be induced to take one step inside the magic confines of the stone house which he used as his quarters; for they believed that instant death would follow such a daring move.
Hence, it was quite patent that only a reckless paleface, who had no such dread of the necromancer’s power, must have entered, to carry away the precious possession.
And if, as seemed probable, he had learned that one of the white boys had been seen prowling around in the vicinity of his den, and acting in a suspicious manner, what more likely than that he would turn out to be the guilty party?
The group, native and white combined, bore down rapidly on the little camp. Adrian braced himself to handle the situation properly. He did not wish to do the slightest thing to incur the enmity of the Zuni people, for the boys were really their guests. At the same time he did not mean to be driven to the wall, and not put out a hand to defend himself and chum.
It was naturally toward the make-believe showman and his ally that the anger of the Broncho Rider Boy was turned. Only for this desire on the part of Braddon to have them chased out of the Zuni country, so that he could work his evil scheme, and profit thereby, at the expense of the poor natives, there would have been no trouble whatever.
And so Adrian set his teeth together, inwardly resolving that if circumstances did compel him to make use of the weapon he was gripping in his steady hands, it would be turned upon the showman the first thing.
Perhaps Mark Braddon realized something to this effect. That would account for his gradually falling back as he ran, allowing the others to outstrip him in the race. Adrian believed him to be as cunning as he was bold, and that was saying a good deal.
But now the medicine man and the three Zuni braves who accompanied him were close to the tent, and still coming under “full steam,” as Billie muttered to himself, while crouching there, nervously handling his Marlin, as he waited the rush of events.
Adrian threw up his gun. At the same time he made an imperious gesture with his hand that could not be misunderstood.
He knew that the old medicine man could speak English almost as well as the chief of the tribe. Intercourse with the whites for all these years, with visitors frequently stopping over for days at a time to study the interesting ways of the Zuni people, had brought this about.
Besides, unless Adrian had been misinformed, the Witch Doctor had been away from his home in the desert on several occasions; and while his people believed he was at these times holding an extended audience with the Manitou, deep in the heart of the Sacred Mountain, Donald and Adrian, on talking it over, had come to the conclusion that the keen-witted old fraud may have been visiting civilization, to see for himself some of the wonderful things of which these white pilgrims had told the Zunis.
“Stop!” said Adrian; and singularly enough they all came to a standstill, just forty feet or so on the other side of the lone tent; because there was something commanding in both the voice and gesture of the white boy.
Besides, those two rifles looked more or less ready for business; and it is well known that firearms may be as dangerous in the hands of boys, as when grown men possess them.
“Now, tell me what all this means, Pick-ne-quan-to?” called out Adrian, purposely making use of the Indian name by which the medicine man was known, and which doubtless had more or less to do with his strange calling as a magician.
Thereupon the medicine man drew himself up, and restraining his anger as much as possible, he answered with great deliberation:
“From the lodge of Pick-ne-quan-to has the wonderful Sacred Belt been taken. No Zuni would brave the wrath of Manitou by touching the gift of the Great Spirit. It has been said that one of the paleface boys was seen near by. I have come to demand that the Sacred Belt be restored again to my keeping. And if this is done the white boys shall be allowed to depart in peace; but before another night; for if they stay after darkness comes again even the power of Pick-ne-quan-to could not save them from the vengeance of the warriors, who would seek the blood of the foolish ones. I have spoken.”
“But we did not take your Sacred Belt; and not one of us has ever been inside the lodge of Pick-ne-quan-to!” urged Adrian; who was trying to gain precious minutes of time, for as yet he could see no sign of Donald coming with the old chief to save the day.
The medicine man shrugged his shoulders at this. Doubtless he fully expected to hear a flat denial; Braddon may even have hinted that the boys would vehemently declare they had never set eyes on the stolen article; but that a search of their belongings might bring it to light.
“The white boy may say that, and yet how do we know he does not speak with a forked tongue, like the Little Father of the rattles? Will he let us enter his tent and see for ourselves?” the medicine man went on to say, doubtless following out a suggestion from Braddon, who hovered close to his elbow.
“We are willing that Pick-ne-quan-to and one of his braves enter, and search our tent, but not the white men,” answered Adrian, boldly. “We do not trust them, and if they try to pass in, it will be bad for them, for we will shoot, and straight.”
A hoarse laugh that jarred on the ears answered him.
“Don’t worry about us, youngster,” called Braddon; “we’re ready enough to let the Indians do the searching. Then they’ll believe what their eyes show them.”
He then said something in a low tone to the medicine man. Perhaps he was telling him to be sure and turn over the skins that lay upon the floor of the tent, since it was evident that if they had stolen the Sacred Belt the white boys would have been cunning enough to hide the same. And it was under these that Donald had discovered the strange object, one end of it being partly uncovered by a lucky chance.
So the two Zunis, the medicine man and a brave whom he selected, advanced eagerly, and vanished inside the tent.
They could be heard moving hastily around there, and evidently tossing the contents this way and that in their endeavor to locate the missing object.
Those without listened with vastly different emotions. The two boys were quite satisfied that nothing would result from this raid on their property; because, did they not know for a surety that the Sacred Belt had been carried away, concealed on the person of their chum, Donald; and that ere now it must be in the possession of the old chief himself, to whom was being told the whole story of the amazing duplicity of the pretended showman, who was only a thief in disguise, and planning to rob the Zuni people?
As for Braddon himself, it was hard for him to repress the triumphant grin that would force itself upon his dark face. He believed positively that the belt must be quickly discovered, and that his end would have been accomplished when the three Broncho Rider Boys were chased out of Zuni-land in disgrace, with such an angry crowd threatening them that they must needs hurry all they could to place many miles between themselves and the excited populace of the village.
As the seconds crept into minutes, and there was no loud shout of discovery made from within the tent Braddon began to manifest signs of uneasiness.
What if after all his ally had hidden the belt so securely that it could not be found? Adrian, watching closely, even saw the showman turn toward his companion and hastily say something; it must have been in the nature of a question concerning the place where the stolen belt had been secreted in the tent, for the younger scoundrel nodded back, and made a reply that gave Braddon comfort for another minute.
But this could not last much longer. Evidently those inside the tent had exhausted their resources, without finding anything worth while; for just then they came dejectedly out, the medicine man looking blacker than ever.
“What’s all this?” roared Braddon, so surprised that for the moment he forgot his caution; “do you mean to say you haven’t found the belt? Did you look everywhere—under the skins on the ground, and in their bags? Ten to one my friend here would find it, if only you made them let him go back with you. Nothing escapes his eagle eye. Tell them that, Pick-ne-quan-to; make them let him accompany you! The belt must be found, and there is no more likely hiding-place than in the tent of these paleface boys, who have been prowling around your lodge so much!”
This sounded like good logic to the medicine man. When his powers failed why should he not take advantage of those belonging to another? If one of the white men were allowed to accompany him back into the tent, three pair of eyes might be better than two. He would demand that this be done. If the white boys still refused would it not look as though they were guilty, and that they feared lest the keen eyes of a paleface see through their trick?
And so, filled with this new determination, he turned toward the spot where Adrian and Billie stood, with their guns still pointed towards the party.
“You have heard what my white brother has said, and why should not his companion go with Pick-ne-quan-to into the tent, to look once more? The paleface boys do not dare refuse. If they say it must not be, then will the Zunis make them prisoners; and after that even the hand of the medicine man might not be able to save the despoilers of the Sacred Belt from the vengeance of the furious tribe.”
“Oh! the brazen face of that old rascal, Braddon!” muttered Billie. “Please let me give him my compliments in his shoulder, Adrian! I’m looking along the barrel of my trusty gun right now, and have got the nicest bead on him you ever saw. Not that I’m savage by nature, or like to inflict pain; but he deserves it, sure he does, Adrian. Can I pull the trigger, did you say?”
His voice was really pleading, showing that Billie had been considerably worked up by the duplicity of the pretended showman; for, as he said, usually the stout chum was averse to scenes of violence, and avoided them whenever he could, without feeling that he was bringing disgrace on his head in so doing.
“No, no, don’t think of it—yet!” said the other, hastily, but positively. “We haven’t got to the end of our rope. If they do attack us, remember that under no conditions are you to injure a hair on the head of a Zuni brave. Give the white men all the wounds, because it is their doing.”
“But what can we do to stave it off any longer, Adrian?” begged the fat chum.
“I hardly know,” replied Adrian, himself at a loss to grasp any idea that promised hope; “if only Donald would hurry along everything might be well. You don’t see anything of him, do you, Billie?”
“Not a thing, Adrian; and the way you say that makes me think of the old fairy story of Bluebeard, where the wife who is to go down to the old fellow, because she has seen the room where the heads of all his other wives are hanging, asks her sister to look, and see if the brothers are not coming on their horses to save her. Don’t you remember she cries again and again: ‘Sister Ann, sister Ann, look and see if there isn’t a cloud of dust along the road; don’t you see anybody coming this way?’ But Adrian, I don’t glimpse even a cloud of dust. Donald sure is aholding back the worst ever; looks like he might get here too late, after all.”
Once Billie got started talking it was difficult to stop him. Besides, Adrian did not make any attempt to do so, because every second they could delay matters counted for just so much in their favor.
Of course the medicine man was waiting impatiently to hear what the result of his last demand would be. When he saw the two lads talking he supposed they must be conferring, in order to reach a definite conclusion. And after all, what did a minute, or several of them for that matter, count; there was plenty of time still, before the exercises of the afternoon would be starting.
So he waited, calm and reserved, yet undoubtedly anxious; for the recovery of the precious belt meant much to him; even some shreds of his sacred office might be associated with the return of the belt, for unless this were done how could he convince his people that nothing was impossible with him?
No matter what happened, Adrian was grimly determined that neither of the white men must be allowed to enter that tent. He would, if pushed to the wall, advise that it be taken down, and everything connected with it appropriated by the Indians. Surely that ought to assure the medicine man that they had nothing concealed under the old canvas that had been donated to the trip by their friend at the mine.
The question was, how could he continue the delay any longer? Already he believed that Braddon was beginning to grow suspicious, for several times the showman cast quick glances toward the village beyond the rocks, as though half anticipating seeing some one coming on the run, perhaps the third paleface boy.
So Adrian once more started to speak, being as slow and deliberate as possible.
“Pick-ne-quan-to would be fair with his white brothers,” he said. “He has looked in their tent, and did not find the Sacred Belt. If it were there it could not escape the eye of Manitou’s messenger. Then why should a white man be able to find it? These white men do not like us. They have tried to drive us away from the village of our friends, the Zunis. The chief knows why this should be so. Send then a warrior to the village to fetch your chief here, Pick-ne-quan-to, that he may be the one to judge what shall be done. If he says that a paleface can do what a Zuni medicine man is unable to accomplish, then we will agree to letting that man enter our tent. But not unless the chief says it. I have spoken.”
Apparently the medicine man hardly knew what to say to this. Adrian had managed to get several clever little hints in his speech that appeared to satisfy the other he meant to be honest with the Zunis. And his proposal that they send for the head man of the tribe, was not that right?
Braddon immediately saw that there was a chance of a cog slipping in his cleverly arranged scheme unless he could manage in some way to inflame the other; so as to cause him to order his men to seize upon the two boys. He had found a convenient rock behind which he could drop, in case he had cause to believe the others meant to open fire on him; and this gave him new assurance.
“Don’t listen to him, Pick-ne-quan-to!” he called out, lustily; “he’s got a glib tongue for a boy, and means to deceive you. While we are waiting for the chief to come they will be doing something to make away with that belt. I tell you the chances are it must be there inside that tent; and if they let my friend assist you in the hunt, he is sure to find it. Don’t you see that they are afraid to say yes to that, Pick-ne-quan-to? And if they were innocent would it matter at all to them who made the search? There is only one thing to be done, then; you should order your braves to make them prisoners. Then whatever you say, it shall be done.”
Adrian himself was afraid that the old medicine man might be tempted to give the word that would send those three sinewy warriors flying across the ground that separated them from the two white boys. He hardly knew what they should do under such distressing circumstances, except that he hoped Billie might succeed in at least giving that treacherous pretended showman a severe wound when he fired, as he had promised to do.
It is always darkest before dawn, they say, and in his own limited experience Adrian had found the truth of this more than once. It happened now; and Billie, with his cheek pressing on the butt of his leveled gun, was suddenly electrified to hear his comrade call out:
“Wait! it will be all right now, because there comes the chief!”
“Hurrah!” cried Billie, even raising his head to see for himself, no matter if he did lose that splendid aim on the left shoulder of Braddon, which he had been holding so steadily for at least one full minute now.
Yes, there were two figures approaching on the run, one of them the Zuni chief, and the other their own good chum, Donald.
No wonder Billie immediately felt so happy that he tore off his cowboy hat, and waved it wildly in the air as he let out a couple of whoops that would have done credit to Bunch, Corney, Alkali, or any of the other punchers who were his friends at Keystone Ranch.
Braddon seemed to be furious at sight of the two who were advancing so hurriedly. It may be that he feared the worst—something in the situation began to warn him that his missile had recoiled on his own head, and that the signs were not altogether so promising as they may have seemed a short time before.
He could be seen arguing with the medicine man, and the boys felt sure he must be trying to induce him to make prisoners of the young palefaces before the chief arrived, and took the power out of his hands.
But Pick-ne-quan-to was shrewd enough to see that Braddon was unduly excited over a matter that should not have concerned him to any great extent at all. He may have begun to entertain a dim suspicion of the truth about that time, and wondered just how it was one of the white men could be more successful than himself with regard to finding the lost emblem, unless they knew just where it had been placed!
At any rate he persistently shook his head in the negative, nor could any of the other’s arguments convince him that he should proceed to act before the arrival of the head man of the Zuni tribe, who was coming at a faster gait than he had been known to undertake for many moons, he being an old man.
“Is it all right, Adrian?” asked Billie, his voice trembling with excitement.
“Looks that way,” replied the other, scarcely able himself to restrain his feelings, so as to appear reasonable and calm.
“Then I don’t get my chance to peg that Braddon, do I?” continued the fat chum, with a vein of dejection in his voice.
“Well, just keep an eye on him, Billie; and if either of them tries to rush the tent, let him have it; because they might mean to drop some other article they’ve gone and stolen, so as to put it on us,” was what Adrian advised.
But neither Braddon nor his younger ally, whom the boys had dubbed Junior, seemed willing to take the risk of being shot; at any rate they gave up trying to induce the medicine man to lead a sudden swoop down on the boys, and standing moodily there, waited to see what was going to happen.
Of course the two defenders of the camp knew full well; since Donald had left them with the full intention of telling the old chief everything; and the presence of the latter at this critical juncture was pretty plain evidence that he had finally come to understand what a narrow escape he had had from falling into a trap, and being deceived by the man who claimed to own the greatest Wild West Combination in the country, and which allowed him to offer them wonderful terms to travel with his show, in order to exhibit the customs of the Zuni people in the Far East.
Donald had doubtless been very anxious when he first saw that the camp was in peril; but on discovering how his two dauntless chums seemed to be holding the allied foes in check, his face relaxed in a broad grin; and he waved his hand toward Adrian and Billie, as in company with the chief he arrived on the spot.
In his native tongue the head man addressed the Witch Doctor, and there could be no doubt but what he was asking what all this excitement meant. Then Pick-ne-quan-to started to reply, in his slow and vigorous way. From his gestures—for of course they could not understand his words—the boys knew he was telling how he had made the startling discovery that his lodge had been entered during his temporary absence, and the wonderful gift of the Manitou, being nothing less than the Sacred Belt, carried away. Then must have followed an account of how his suspicions were directed toward the white boys, and how he had come, backed by the strangers in the village who had expressed much interest in the recovery of the emblem, to demand the return of the belt; but that a search of the tent had failed to disclose the same.
And then came the grand surprise, just as Adrian and Billie anticipated, when the chief suddenly drew something out from under his blanket, and held it aloft, so that every one might see—the glittering Sacred Belt that had come from Manitou!
“Yes siree, that was about the closest shave I ever knew; and you couldn’t have dropped in on us at a more fortunate minute, Donald, that’s what!”
Billie was saying this, as he had done half a dozen times before, while he himself and two chums were seated on the pile of rocks that overlooked the little plaza where the Zunis were preparing to go through the last ceremony of their yearly feast and tribal observances, the rattlesnake dance, weirdest of all scenes ever witnessed by the eyes of white men and women.
“Well,” remarked Donald, with one of his rare and engaging smiles, “I give you my solemn word, boys, I didn’t time our coming so as to make it seem dramatic, like a Frenchman might have done. Fact is, I urged the chief to hurry all I could, after I’d told him everything I knew, and given him the old belt that I had hidden, and which he was afraid to even touch at first.”
“But you were gone nearly a whole hour, Donald,” said Billie, reproachfully.
“That’s right, I was,” replied the other, “but I couldn’t help it, because you see, I was unable to find the chief, who had disappeared, and no one could tell me where he was. After all, it turned out that he had gone into some secret chamber back in the mountain to carry out some of the observances of the day. In the end I ran across him, and, well, it all came out right after all, you know.”
“So far as we’re concerned, it sure did,” agreed Billie; “but just think how Braddon and his two chums had to get out of here in a big hurry. Why, the Zunis just acted like they’d be glad to tear them to pieces, when they learned that one of them had snuck into the sacred lodge of their medicine man, and actually hooked that silly old belt.”
“A good riddance of bad rubbish, we all say,” declared Adrian.
“And,” added Donald, “if they know what’s good for them they’ll be mighty slow to stay anywhere within striking distance of this place; because the chief told them plainly that as soon as the ceremonies were all over, he would shut his eyes if several of his young and hot-blooded braves chose to go forth looking for game.”
“Ha! ha! guess Braddon knew only too well what that sort of game would be if he and his pards could be found!” exclaimed Billie, laughing at the thought. “Say, just to think of it, while we’re squatted here on this rock pile, waiting to see the blessed old rattlesnake dance they talk so much about, them fellows must be aheading away just as fast as their ponies’ll carry ’em; and chances are they’ll keep hitting up the hot pace half the night, for fear of being overtaken, and shot all to flinders. Things turned out all right for us; and it was sure the darkest just before dawn, as Adrian said.”
“Well, pay attention, now, to what’s doing in front,” interrupted Donald, “for unless the signs go wrong the bucks are getting in their togs to start this dance.”
There were little knots of observers scattered all around, and it might be noticed that where the lookers-on were whites they had been very careful to select their seats on some pile of rocks; though the Zuni women and children were massed here and there on the lower tiers, or the level ground itself.
There was a good reason for this. Rattlesnakes may be all very well in cages, with a strong sheet of glass separating them from you; but no ordinary person cares to run across them in the open, where they can suddenly throw themselves into a coil, and be ready to thrust out their venomous jaws at a nearby leg.
And it was generally understood that in the wonderful and thrilling ceremony about to take place as the wind-up to the yearly festival, the Zuni braves would introduce scores of the crawlers, so that there was always danger that one might break away, and wriggle in among the bystanders.
So the white visitors were not taking any chances that they could avoid, though eager enough to see all that would take place in the arena below.
The music of the native tomtoms and reed instruments was exceedingly doleful. Yet it must have possessed a peculiar significance for the people who gathered around, their dusky faces filled with the keenest appreciation. To them this dance meant the greatest religious frenzy, and was of deepest significance; while to the whites it stood only for a queer proceeding in which danger lurked in every dusky hand that gripped a serpent back of the neck.
Presently the ring began to form.
Those who have observed the dances of savage people in many far distant parts of the earth have noticed a strange similarity in the methods and customs of different nations. Men and women seem to dance pretty much the same, whether it be among the Zulus of South Africa, the Bontoc Igorottes of the Philippine Islands, the Hottentots of Darkest Africa, or the Indians of our own West. There is the same crouching attitude, the bending of the knees, a springy step like unto that of the tiger or panther, and very much the same monotonous chant that rises and falls in a thrilling cadence.
Donald was not so deeply interested as his two companions, for he had seen something very similar to this dance before. Billie squatted there, and his eyes grew as round as circles, while he stared, and noted many remarkable things in connection with the dusky dancers, carrying on their grotesque ceremony.
“Oh! look at that lanky fellow holding his rattler between his teeth!” he called out, as he pointed at the object of his discovery. “All the money on this same old earth couldn’t coax me to try that dodge, no siree bob!”
“But he knows just what he is doing,” said Donald; “and hasn’t the slightest idea that he’ll be struck. If he is, they have some sort of remedy, and in most cases they get over it. But you see how careful they are never to try and touch a rattler when he’s in coil; because they know how he can strike out like lightning, so that the quickest hand couldn’t draw back in time. They keep the reptile extended at as near full length as they can, for then he’s practically helpless to jab you, and the snake knows it too, so he seldom tries.”
“Yes, I know that all right,” affirmed Billie, “but no matter, I haven’t got any use for the species, let me tell you again. They make me have a funny shiver run up and down my spine, because, don’t you know, I get to thinking of how near I came to dropping down into that nest when we were on the road here. Ugh! for one I won’t be sorry when this same dance is over with.”
But Adrian did not echo these sentiments. He was finding a world of deep interest in everything that went on. The antics of the dancers, the wrapt attention paid them by the squatty women clustered here and there, and who never once took their eyes off the circle of braves passing round and round in endless procession; even the way the children were fascinated by the sight—all these things Adrian was taking note of, for he wished to tell of his experiences later on.
“Don’t forget that you’ve got a kodak along, Billie!” warned Donald, after the affair had been in progress so long that some of the dancers had fallen out of the circle utterly exhausted by the continuous movements, though others immediately took their places, just as the substitutes on a football team are injected into the game when injuries cause some of the players to drop out of the hot scrimmage.
At that Billie awoke from his trance with a jump.
“Oh! thank you for telling me about it, Donald!” he exclaimed; “whatever could I have been thinking about to forget that? And as I never expect to see another snake-dance in all my life, why, how could I have remedied the blunder? But thank goodness it ain’t too late yet.”
Accordingly he set diligently to work to repair his error, and for some time the clicking of the rapid shutter told that Billie was getting snapshots of the whole scene, and individual parts of the same, as fast as he could work it.
As the afternoon was now waning, the last act in the list of ceremonies bade fair to soon close in a blaze of glory.
The wild dancers, spurred on by the continued incantations of the weird-looking old medicine man, and their own desire to show off before their people, seemed to be vying with one another in the endeavor to excel in grotesque acts. They wrapped the writhing snakes around their necks, and held them between their teeth in seemingly reckless fashion, much to the horror of some of the white spectators, but adding greatly to the delight of the dusky horde that gathered there, and gaped, and admired, and applauded in their own fashion.
After all human nature is pretty much alike, when you come to take off the outward veneer that is given by different associations and methods of living. Adrian had seen just such sights as these, minus the rattlesnakes, and the weird dress of the participants, in many a gathering in the East, where thousands went fairly wild over a fiercely contested football game.
As the twilight began to fall the furious dance came to an end at the command of the medicine man, whose word was law with the Zunis. He knew it had now reached its proper conclusion, and that the warriors were almost at the point of utter exhaustion.
“All over but the shoutin’, and perhaps it’s safe for us to get down off this rock pile now,” remarked Billie, as the last of the dancers went staggering away, leaving the arena that had been the theater of their weird ceremony to the thronging squaws and boys and girls.
So they sought their tent, to prepare the evening meal. Of course their talk was mostly about the remarkable scene they had just witnessed, and which would never entirely fade from their minds.
“And if my pictures only come out good, as I reckon they ought,” Billie went on to remark, “I’ll be able to stagger some of the fellows at home, when I get there. But there’s one thing I’m ahoping, and that is that none of them wrigglers got away. I’d sure hate to wake up tonight from a jolly good snooze, to find a big old rattler perched on my chest, and ready to jab me with his business end if I so much as moved my little finger. Wow! it makes me creep just to think of it.”
And indeed, the subject was on Billie’s mind so much that he later on made sure to thoroughly examine every inch of space inside the canvas, shaking their blankets carefully, and finally getting Donald to again encircle the tent with that horse-hair lariat of his, over which he had said no snake would ever dare crawl.
And so ended the great day at the Zuni village, which the Indians looked forward to each year with the liveliest anticipations; and the three chums had reason to feel thankful that the bold plot of Braddon the showman had not resulted in their being expelled from the place without a chance to see the “circus,” as Billie called it.
Billie was also a little bit worried for fear that Braddon and his two companions might not have gone far away; but, feeling so badly toward the three chums for having nipped their scheme in the bud, he dreaded lest they return under cover of darkness, bent on evening up the debt they thought they owed the Broncho Rider Boys.
“Don’t you believe anything of the sort, Billie,” urged Donald, when the stout chum ventured to mention his fears on this score.
“No,” added Adrian, positively; “they knew that the medicine man meant every word of it when he warned them that the old chief would set some of his braves on their track, after nightfall. Make your mind easy, for Braddon isn’t the kind of man to take chances, when he can get away. They’re whipping their ponies for all they’re worth, so as to cover as many miles as they can before another dawn.”
As the others were so confident, Billie began to lose his nervousness. Perhaps after all this was more the result of the terrible scenes he had looked upon that afternoon, than any real fear of the three rascals whose departure from the Zuni village had been so hurried.
“On the whole,” said Adrian, “I don’t think any of us will get too much sleep this same night.”
“Why so?” asked Billie, as though wondering what new tribulations might threaten them now.
“Listen!” said the other, holding up his hand.
They had finished their supper, and were lying around taking their ease at the time this conversation sprang up.
“Well, they are pretty noisy over there in the village, for a fact,” admitted Billie, as he caught the sound of wild shouts, and a sort of native song that many voices chanted in unison; “but once let me snuggle down, with my head under my good old blanket, and nothing like that will keep me awake.”
“From what I’ve seen of some of your performances,” admitted Adrian, “I reckon you’re right, Billie. But Donald has agreed that we pull up stakes here tomorrow some time, and make a start for home.”
“Is that so, Donald?” demanded the fat chum.
“Yes, by afternoon we might pull out, though we’ll not get very far by night-time, it may be,” came the answer.
Perhaps Billie caught a certain significance about it, for he instantly went on to remark:
“Huh! guess you mean to have a look-in at that Sacred Mountain racket, and find out what the old medicine man keeps hidden there?”
The others exchanged glances.
“Talk a little lower when you’re saying things like that, Billie,” cautioned Donald.
“I hope you don’t think there’s a spy ahanging around camp right now, one of those Zuni braves, awanting to hear what we might be saying after our supper?” Billie asked, anxiously, as he sat up, to stare around at the rocks seen beyond the circle of firelight.
“No, but sometimes they tell us the walls have ears, and nobody can tell who might catch what we happened to be saying,” Adrian observed. “But answering your question, I’ll just remark that we do mean to make a try to find out about the strange noises they say come out of that mountain at times, when the Witch Doctor is talking with the Great Spirit.”
“Yes,” added Donald, “it’s none of our business, that’s right, and perhaps we hadn’t ought to poke in there; but we’ve heard so much that we just feel we can’t go away from here without one good try to solve the mystery.”
“But remember, Billie, we haven’t got the same motive that Braddon had,” Adrian hastened to remark, seeing the other smile faintly.
“Not much,” added Donald; “if there’s a treasure cave in there it belongs to the Zunis, and we’ll never tell anybody what we’ve discovered.”
“Because,” Adrian continued, “that would start a rush of crazy prospectors and miners over this way, and you never could tell what the end would be; all sorts of fights, and in some way or other the Zunis would be turned out of the homes their people have occupied for hundreds and hundreds of years.”
“And we couldn’t stand for that, you know, Billie,” said Donald.
“Huh! I should say not,” agreed the other.
Adrian changed the subject abruptly, showing that whatever he and Donald had settled upon as a part of their future programme, he did not think it wise to continue the discussion of it under the existing conditions.
The night wore on.
Up to the time they were ready to lie down and get some sleep, the racket still kept up over at the village. It seemed as though the Indians were bound to wind up their gala time with a grand hurrah. No doubt on the next day they would have relapsed once more into their ordinary prosy state of existence.
Just as he had said, Billie seemed to have no trouble whatever in going to sleep, and Donald, who also lay down while Adrian took the first watch, really envied him the ease with which he passed away into dreamland.
There was nothing occurred to disturb them all the night through, and both sentries managed to secure a fair amount of rest before dawn came.
During the day that followed they saw the other visitors and their guides take their departure. The three chums purposely delayed leaving until the afternoon had well advanced, for they did not mean to get a great distance away by nightfall, since they expected to retrace their steps, returning to the side of the Sacred Mountain.
Having marked the spot well where the cliff arose, which they knew concealed the secret tunnel the medicine man seemed to use in entering the mountain, they felt sure they could easily find it again, when the time came for action.
Billie succeeded in securing a few more snapshots to complete his collection; and was very happy over his success. In fact, the only cloud upon the horizon, so far as Billie was concerned, lay in his inability to guess the identity of the mysterious party who had three times done them such a favor.
If he was one of the cowboys who had been present to witness the snake-dance, why would he not have admitted as much before leaving the village? Billie had taken particular pains to be in the society of these fellows more or less during the morning before they went away, and not by the faintest sign did any one of them give him a hint that he might be the good friend.
The mystery was as dark as ever, it seemed; and Billie wondered very much as to whether he would ever know the truth.
“If Adrian keeps his word,” he said to himself, as he sat there, pondering the aggravating matter all over, “we’ll just as like as not be starting for Wyoming soon after we hit the Keystone Ranch country; for he’s getting wild to set eyes on his own cattle ranch up there, that his Uncle Fred Comstock has been running so long. And if that comes about, why, I reckon, then, I’ll never know just who to thank for all these splendid favors.”
Whenever he tried to picture this unknown friend Billie always seemed to have in mind some sort of splendid looking man, who was just amusing himself going around doing good wherever he found a chance. And it grieved him very much to realize that his chances of ever thanking him were growing less and less all the time.
About the middle of the afternoon they said good-bye to all their Zuni friends and rode away. The old medicine man was among the crowd that saw them off; he even condescended to shake hands with each of the lads. Doubtless it had dawned upon the mind of the conjurer that he and the Zuni tribe in general were under heavy obligations to these boys for what they had done. Had it not been for them that fraud of a showman might have succeeded in coaxing the chief to start away, with most of the people, tagging after him, to leave them stranded and helpless in some faraway station; while meanwhile he returned to try and find the secret treasure which report said the Witch Doctor knew of in the heart of the Sacred Mountain.
“I want to tell you, boys,” remarked Billie, after they had gone far enough on the other trail that would avoid crossing the main desert to no longer see any sign of the wonderful home of the cliff dwellers; “I’m not sorry to get away from that place. Too many creeping things to suit me. I don’t much mind standing up and waiting to receive the charge of a mad bull elk; or calmly puncturing the tough old hide of a whopper of a grizzly bear; but excuse me from all sorts of scaly things. No alligators, lizards or Gila Monsters need apply for a job to Broncho Billie. Set that down with a red stone to mark it, will you?”
After going as far as they thought fit the three boys turned aside from the main trail, and finding a good place where camp could be made, as well as water secured for themselves and ponies, they settled down.
Supper came next in order, with Billie plying his old trade, and apparently doing about all there was to accomplish, yet actually performing very little through lack of system.
Night had now closed in about them, but they did not mean to be in any undue haste about attempting to carry out the little scheme they had on foot.
In fact, both Adrian and Donald were somewhat ashamed of this spirit of curiosity that was coaxing them back, to pry into the secret of the medicine man. They assured each other many times that they did not mean him any harm in the least, and only entered into the game on account of a natural feeling, such as all boys possess to a greater or less extent—a desire to know “what makes the wheels go around.”
They had heard so much concerning this wonderful voice in the heart of the mountain that they just felt that it would be a shame for them to go away without at least making one good effort to learn what it all meant; and how, when a man with a high-pitched, screechy voice like that of the Witch Doctor went alone into the rocky uplift, there came pealing out the deep tones of a strange voice, thrilling those who heard, under the belief that it was Manitou who spoke.
Three hours after sunset Donald arose, and said that it was time they made their start. Adrian quickly joined him, and Billie also stretched himself; for while he did not feel very much enthusiasm about the affair, he was determined not to be left there alone.
So the three boys went forth, carrying their guns along, of course; and in addition Donald made sure of a couple of ropes, which he judged would be plenty long enough to reach from the top of the cliff down to that ledge the wizard had used.
“Careful, everybody; we must be near the edge of the drop right now!”
When Donald said this in a low but thrilling tone, Billie drew himself up into as small a space as possible, and strained his eyes in the endeavor to discover for himself any danger that might threaten them.
He chanced to know what it meant to feel himself plunging downward through space, and was in no hurry to repeat the experience.
“There’s the crooked tree you marked down, Donald,” whispered Adrian; “right off there to the right.”
“So it is,” came the pleased response; “and that means we are just a little to the left of where I calculated to strike. Slowly now, all; and in three shakes of a lamb’s tail we ought to be there.”
Crawling carefully along the rough surface of the mountain in the direction of the crooked cedar that grew close to the edge of the steep precipice, which had appeared to their eyes when seen from below as a cliff, they presently reached their destination.
“That part’s done, anyhow,” the others heard Billie say to himself, with a certain air of relief that told how strained his nerves must be, what with all the excitement through which he had lately been compelled to pass.
Now, although they had as yet not told Billie about it, his chums had talked the matter over, and determined that one of their number should by rights stay there on the top of the precipice, while the others descended the rope to the shelf they felt sure lay just one-third of the way down the rocky wall.
And of course this should be Billie, for everything combined to mark him as the victim. He was so very heavy that it would be a task to get him up, once he managed to slide down the rope. Then again, he was inclined to be clumsy, and might in some way make a slip that would result in a sad tragedy. Last but far from least in the list, Billie was not fitted as well as they were to take part in a desperate enterprise like this.
And so all that remained to be done now was to tell him. Neither of them liked the job, but it must be done; and when Donald nudged Adrian, and whispered in his ear that he ought to speak, the other lost no time in doing so.
“You know, Billie,” he said, getting his lips as close to the ear of the stout chum as possible, “all of us can’t go along, because there’s got to be one stay up here to help pull, when we’re ready to come back.”
“Oh! why to be sure,” replied Billie, sweetly; “and of course you’ve selected me to be that one? But then, what’s the difference? I’m that heavy I might break the rope; or drag somebody down with me. I’m just as well satisfied; though it’ll seem _aw_ful lonely while you’re gone, fellows; and I sure hope you won’t stay all night.”
This was a pleasant surprise, for they had fully anticipated that Billie would set up a great opposition to their plan. But apparently he had himself been thinking it over, and settled on his plan of campaign, should they give him the choice of going or staying.
“Nothing is apt to bother you up here, Billie, make sure of that,” said Donald, reassuringly.
“And you have your gun along in case you need it,” added Adrian.
“Don’t you worry about me a single minute, boys,” the stout chum went on to say, in what was meant to be a firm and even buoyant tone as though he could see no reason for any undue anxiety.
That point having been settled in a satisfactory way, they began to prepare to make the descent. First Donald fastened the two lariats together in a fashion known particularly to cow-punchers. Then he made sure that the loop at the lower end ran free; after which he attached the other end to the crooked cedar that grew so close to the edge of the descent that it seemed to be there especially to serve their particular purpose on this occasion.
Adrian wanted to be the first to go down; but somehow Donald seemed to have assumed the position of master of ceremonies, and he also usurped that privilege as coolly as you please.
“When I get safe on that platform I’ll shake the rope twice,” he announced as he prepared to swing himself over the edge.
“That will mean for me to start down, I reckon?” asked Adrian.
“Yes, and be careful, please, old fellow; don’t forget that a slip might throw you down all the way to the bottom,” Donald went on to say, a bit uneasily.
“Speak for yourself, Donald,” remarked the other, with a chuckle. “I like your nerve, to caution me when it’s you that goes about everything in such a hurry, you’re always apt to get in trouble. But it’s all right, Donald, I’ll hold tight; and be sure you do the same.”
Adrian shook the hand of his chum, as did also Billie, before the other swung over the edge, and began his downward journey.
It was all dark below him, even though fairly light above; but then Donald depended more on his sense of touch than his eyesight, in a case like this. He kept dropping, a yard or so at a time, with one leg twisted around the rope; and the other foot feeling for what he sought below.
Crouching there, Adrian kept feeling of the rope, and in this way knew how the other was getting on. As long as he caught that periodical jerk he realized that Donald was making satisfactory progress.
Finally the strain seemed to be off the rope, so that he could even pull it up a few inches as he chose. Either Donald had reached the shelf, and thus relieved the rope from his weight, or else—but Adrian would not allow himself to even consider the other possibility; and besides, they had heard no cry, no heavy thud.
Ah! immediately he felt the rope twitch violently; yes, and a second time this came about. That must be meant as a signal by the one below; and he remembered how Donald had said he would give two distinct jerks after he had safely landed.
“My turn now, Billie; look out for yourself; and when you find that one of us is coming up the rope, stand by to pull, if you get the word. It might be a bigger climb than we counted on, and some help needed before we could get to the top.”
“Count on me, Adrian,” Billie said simply; and if his heart seemed in his throat as he shook his comrade’s hand lingeringly, no one knew it, because the night concealed all traces of his emotion.
Adrian went down in just the same way the other had adopted, a little distance at a time, then a brief interval, after which he would again allow himself to slide some more.
Presently, when he thought he might have come about far enough, something touched his foot that sent a thrill through his whole body, until he realized that it must be the hand of Donald, reaching up to reassure him.
“All right, Ad; just one more drop, and you’re there,” came a low whisper; and he found himself guided into the haven, so that he could plant both feet on the solid rock.
Leaving the rope to swing free, they began to look around them, in order to learn just how the old Witch Doctor came out upon that same shelf. In this they were greatly helped by the little electric hand torch which Donald had with him; and by means of which they quickly discovered a fissure in the face of the cliff, wide enough to allow the passage of a man.
Leading the way, and using this useful means of illumination, Donald felt confident of being able to serve as a guide to the expedition.
The path was very rough, so that at times they had to almost crawl; but then as they moved along it they could see from time to time that another had walked this way many times, undoubtedly the old medicine man of the Zunis, and those who had occupied his place years and years ago.
“I wouldn’t be surprised,” remarked Adrian, in a low tone, as he caught hold of his companion’s arm, “if that dip yonder proves to be the passage which he uses whenever he enters below at the base of the cliff, and ascends, like he did that time we followed him here. The Zunis are that afraid they would run like wildfire if they thought they stood any chance to see him enter the mountain; so he must have fallen into a sort of a free-and-easy way. After seeing us around, he tightened up, and would only come here at night-time.”
“H’st!”
When Donald made that hissing sound his chum closed his lips, for he instinctively understood that it meant danger.
“Look down the shaft, and you’ll see signs of a light!” whispered Donald, close to his ear now.
“What do you reckon it can be?” asked the other, as he too saw the faint glow.
“It’s getting brighter all the while, Ad, and that tells us whoever holds the torch is coming up from below!”
“You mean Pick-ne-quan-to?” whispered Adrian, in no little excitement.
“Well, as we don’t believe in spirits, it must be the old medicine man,” replied his chum; “and I only hope our comrade, Billie, kept back from the edge above, for he might have been seen.”
“Or either of us while crawling over the edge,” continued Adrian. “Looks like we might be lucky boys tonight, Donald; but of course you won’t stay here, to be seen when he gets up even with us?”
“I should say not,” replied the other; “and it happens that I noticed a splendid cache right back here that will hold both of us. Come on, let’s make our get-away before it’s too late.”
Three minutes later they had secreted themselves in the cavity noticed by Donald, and were waiting, more or less anxiously, to see if the party approaching did turn out to be the Witch Doctor.
Donald, peeping out of a cranny, whispered in the ear of his comrade that sure enough it was the medicine man. He walked serenely past where they were hiding. Once, when he seemed to stop and look around, Adrian could feel the arm of his chum fairly quiver; and he realized that the old Witch Doctor must be furiously angry did he discover these intruders, come to spy upon his secret, which he kept from even the chief of the tribe.
Adrian was more than half sorry he had consented to come; but this feeling passed away when he saw the glow of the torch moving on again; and from the indications realized that the queer medicine man had gone about his business.
“Let us follow him at a safe distance,” whispered Donald; and they started forth, when it seemed as though the coast were clear.
It was with considerable difficulty that the two chums made forward progress under such a handicap as confronted them. The medicine man knew every foot of the passage he was following. Besides that, he had a blazing torch, by means of which the route was made clear; whereas they were traveling over new territory, and in almost pitch darkness.
Several times when the beacon ahead vanished completely they were compelled to make use of the little electric light; but on such occasions Donald made sure to keep its glow confined to the rocky floor directly in front, so that no glancing ray might startle the mysterious man they were pursuing.
As these lapses of illumination in front were undoubtedly caused by the Witch Doctor turning some bend in the passage, the boys felt that they were taking only a small amount of risk in thus using their own torch.
It saved them from numerous stumbles, and possibly a bad fall; because the way was rough, with many outlying rocks to serve as traps for unwary feet.
“We must be getting right into the heart of the mountain,” whispered Adrian, after they had been advancing in this manner for quite some time.
“That’s right,” replied the other, with equal caution; “and still the old fraud seems to be pushing ahead.”
“Do you think this passage can lead through the pile of rocks, so that if we kept on far enough we’d come out on the other side?” Adrian asked.
“Hardly that,” his chum chuckled. “Pretty soon we’ll find out just why Pick-ne-quan-to comes in here every once in a while. It used to be only so many times a year, they told me at the village, but now he has a talk with the Great Spirit nearly every day.”
“Yes, I heard that brave tell you so; and every time, some of them say they can hear that heavenly music, and the heavy voice of the dread Manitou, coming out from the heart of this Sacred Mountain. It’s mighty queer, Donald, what it can all mean.”
“Well, let’s hope that after all the trouble we’ve taken we are on the brink of learning his secret,” the ranchman’s son observed.
“That doesn’t mean anything about his treasure, though,” put in Adrian.
“No, we made up our minds to have nothing to do with any deposit of precious metal he might have found in here; because we don’t want to send ten thousand white prospectors rushing this way, to overturn things, and really wipe the Zuni people out, in their craze for gold. We’ll listen, and look around, and then go away again as quietly as we came.”
While he did not know it, this remark on the part of Donald, and which really reflected the sentiments of both lads, did them great credit. It was not every boy who could look at things in such a humane light.
They had been greatly interested in the strange life of the Zunis, and just the very thought of all this history, which extended far back beyond the discovery of America by Columbus, being snuffed out in the greedy rush of modern gold-crazy miners was repulsive to them.
“There, he’s turned another bend, I reckon, Donald; and it’s so pitch dark here don’t you think we’d better make use of the hand torch again?” said Adrian, presently.
“Just as you say,” replied the other; “but we must be careful about it, because one flash of the ray would put him wise to the fact that there was something going on back here that ought to be looked into. And I’d hate to have that grim old chap trying some of his witchcraft on us.”
“Huh! on my part I’d be more afraid of his letting loose a nest of rattlesnakes to trap us, or some such awful game. When we get to that bend ahead—” but Adrian did not finish his sentence, for just then a strange sound broke forth upon their hearing that caused both boys to stand there as though transfixed; while Donald shut off the little illumination with a movement of his ready thumb.
It was music that greeted them, the sweetest music either of them could ever remember of hearing in all their lives. Of course there instantly flashed through their minds the recollection of all they had heard about heavenly choirs singing, and celestial instruments playing, according to the crude notions of the Zuni people.
Well, it seemed as though the reality far exceeded the many descriptions which they had picked up from various sources; and both boys stood there for several minutes, hardly breathing, so stunned had they been by this outburst of wonderful melody.
Then all at once it burst upon the mind of Adrian that there was something familiar about the music; just as though he may have heard it before while asleep and dreaming.
He gripped his hands in an endeavor to remember where it could have been; and trying to unravel the thread of memory.
“Ad!” came in a whisper, close to his ear; and he suddenly remembered that he had a chum alongside, who must be thrilled just as much as he was by these fairly ravishing strains.
“Yes, what is it, Donald?” he asked, reaching out so as to come in contact with the arm of the other, which he immediately pressed reassuringly.
“Sounds for all the world to me like a violin!” continued the other.
Then a great light suddenly burst upon Adrian, just as a clap of thunder during a summer shower will startle one.
“It is a violin, or as the boys call it out here, a fiddle!” he said, quickly; “and I remember hearing that same tune played some years ago when I was East. Yes, it’s the same melody, and I’d know it among a thousand. Listen to that, would you, Donald? Could anybody beat such skill, and wonderful handling of the bow?”
“But Adrian, however in the wide world would such an old heathen as the medicine man manage to master the fiddle, so as to play like that? I never heard its equal in all my life!”
“No more you didn’t,” chuckled Adrian, “for you’re listening now to the drawing of a bow that has charmed millions of music lovers in all the great cities of the wide world, I reckon.”
“Oh! you mean—” started Donald, when the other took the words out of his mouth.
“He’s gone and got a talking machine in here, that’s the truth of it all, Donald, don’t you see? When he was away on one of his secret trips, trying to find out how the white people lived, he must have heard one of these same music boxes sing and make speeches. It set him fairly wild, for he may have a love for music in his soul, you know. So what does he do but buy one, with a lot of records; and somehow get the whole business carried into the heart of the Sacred Mountain.”
“Yes, yes,” added Donald, “and the music appeals so much to old Pick-ne-quan-to that his visits are getting of daily occurrence now. No wonder the Zunis say he is becoming so very familiar with the Great Manitou, that he can’t let a day pass without having an interview with the Master. Oh! Ad, this is a rich joke on us now, ain’t it?”
“Well, I don’t see how you make that out,” replied the other. “We came in here to discover the source of that heavenly music, and the loud thunder voice that nearly frightens the Indians to death; and looks like we’ve done it. I think we’ve reason to feel satisfied. There, now the violin has sobbed itself out, and perhaps we’ll have a Caruso sending his robust voice through all these underground passages next; or it may be a Melba warbling like a bird in the forest. Ain’t this the most wonderful explanation of the mystery you ever could have dreamed of? And to think that it never struck either of us once!”
“How could we guess it,” said Donald; “when we didn’t have the least clue? But listen, he’s started the machine to going again.”
This time it was a song bird who filled the underground retreat with music; and as the two spellbound lads, crouching there in the darkness, continued to listen, soon they heard the loud, heavy voice of a well-known statesman filling the chamber with the echoing eloquence of a stump speech, which doubtless had done full duty in the last political campaign, but was now thrilling any listening Zuni with the belief that it was the sonorous voice of Manitou.
“Hadn’t we better be getting out of this now?” asked Adrian, after they had stayed to listen to several more wonderful reproductions of the human voice and various musical instruments, among which was a military band.
“Yes, we’ve had enough for our money,” returned Donald. “Let the shrewd old wizard have his concert out by himself; Billie will be getting anxious about us, especially if the poor fellow hears a faint sound of all that’s been going on here.”
“Perhaps he’ll begin to fear that we’ve been taken up into the other world by a host of angels, or something like that,” chuckled Adrian, as they started to once more cover the ground they had traversed before, Donald using his hand torch now, as the danger of discovery seemed next to nothing.
“Do you really think the medicine man meant them to believe that was the voice of Manitou, when he brought this talking machine here?“ questioned Donald, after they had been walking for some time along the tortuous passage, and must be drawing close to the exit at the ledge.
“No one knows, and perhaps no one ever will,” came the reply, showing that Adrian had been figuring on this matter himself, and arrived at a conclusion. “He may have in the beginning just wanted to enjoy a feast of civilized music by himself, without letting his people know that he had departed that far from their customs; and then learning how they believed him to be talking with the Great Spirit, why, he encouraged the idea, you see. And all the while he’s been getting more and more in love with real music as compared with the horrible racket the Zunis make with their old tom-toms and wailing reed instruments. Perhaps the time will come when that talking machine will be installed in a lodge in the center of the village, to be listened to each fine night by every brave, squaw and papoose in the settlement. Times are changing fast all over the world, even with savage people; and I’ve heard men say that this same talking machine is doing more to educate savages than all the missionaries in the world.”
“Perhaps that’s so,” remarked Donald; “but here we are at the ledge, and let’s hope we’ll have little trouble in getting up where Billie is.”
“Let’s hope,” urged his chum, “that the same Billie is awake, and attending to his business; because we may need the help of his strong arms before both of us climb the rope to the top.”