“I wonder if he saw us?” Roger was saying, some days after the buffalo stampede.
The boys were thinking of halting for the night, and the western sky had taken on all the wonderful rosy tints at which even these frontier boys would gaze with something akin to awe.
“I hope not,” his companion returned, with a troubled look on his sunburned face; “because that might mean new perils before morning. Up to now we’ve been so lucky about escaping any sort of fight with the wandering Indians that I keep hoping we may get through, and join the expedition, without any annoyance.”
“But it was a redskin, all right, Dick; both of us saw him plain enough to be very sure of that,” Roger went on.
“Oh! yes, I grant that,” was Dick’s answer; “but he wasn’t in evidence on that little rise more than a few minutes. We kept our horses standing still all the time, in the hope that he might not notice us. He shaded his eyes with his hand, because he was looking into the west, and that light must have partly blinded him. I only hope it was strong enough to make him miss seeing us here.”
“Are we going on now?” queried the other, impatiently.
“That’s the only thing left to us, Roger. By sticking close to the foot of the rise, where there are some trees to give us shelter, we may escape being seen. But no galloping for us now; just let the horses walk until the dusk comes down on us. Then we’ll make camp, somehow.”
“How lucky that I cooked enough of that meat at noon to last another meal. That was a time when I had my head about me, eh, Dick?” the other asked.
“It looks that way, because we must light no fire if there’s a hunting party of hostile Indians around here,” Dick decided.
They let the tired animals walk, keeping to the edge of the little hill beyond which, though at some little distance, lay the river.
Roger, grown very suspicious now, turned in his saddle many times to glance in all directions. He thought more than once that he saw a crouching Indian behind some tree or bush, and his gun almost involuntarily started to leap to his shoulder. But in every case it turned out to be some deceptive shadow, and Roger was the first one to laugh at his own silly fears.
Gradually the glorious red tints died out of the western heavens; and with their passing came the troops of skirmishing shadows that told of the night.
Dick had meanwhile kept on the alert, not only to discover any lurking foe, but at the same time find a suitable spot where they could make their camp.
When he located a place that seemed to promise them fair shelter, and at the same time a feeding spot for their horses, he drew rein.
“We might as well pull up here, and settle down for the night, Roger,” he announced.
So they proceeded to stake the horses out, making their own arrangements so as to be very close to the feeding animals. The grass was sweet and plentiful, and, as the horses were hungry, they started cropping it without delay, glad to be relieved from their burdens, for the day had been a hot one.
“Perhaps,” said Roger, as they started to arrange things so as to have at least some sort of comfort, “it might be wise not to undo most of our packages, since we don’t mean to make a fire.”
“I was just going to say that myself,” the other rejoined. “Then, if we wanted to get away from here in a hurry, we’d be in condition to do so.”
“Then you still have a little idea we were seen by that lone brave, Dick; and that he may bring the rest of the hunting party down on us to-night?”
“It seems to strike me that way; and so we must keep a better watch even than usual to-night,” Dick observed, as he accepted some of the food his comrade took out of a package, and started to munch at it with that contentment the boys of those days learned to exhibit.
“We’ve been so lucky all these weeks, while following after the expedition, not to meet a single enemy face to face—unless you’d count that half-breed. If he was with François Lascelles we must have given them the slip nicely, don’t you think, Dick?”
“It looks that way,” Dick answered, between bites. “Pass me the old canteen that we filled with water at that fine spring late this afternoon, and I’ll wash down this dry meat. We’ve been delayed so many times now that the summer is passing away; and, after all, it begins to look as if we might come up with Captain Lewis just when he’s thinking of stopping over to pass the winter. You know we heard him say he felt sure he’d have to do that somewhere short of the big mountains the Indians tell such strange stories about, when bringing in their pelts to the trading posts.”
“But no matter, we’re bound to keep on, if it takes us all the way to the ocean—I’ve heard you say that more than once, Dick, and I know you meant it, too.”
“Yes, I’m just as determined as when we started out to overtake the expedition, and have that paper signed by Jasper Williams. Every time I shut my eyes when trying to go to sleep I can see my father’s troubled face, and how well do I remember discovering the tears in mother’s eyes as she looked around the little home, for I know she was thinking how it would break her heart to have to give it up now.”
“It must never happen, Dick. After coming this far we must succeed, and save the homes of our parents for them. I am twice as set on that as when we first started out. Think of all we’ve gone through; and yet it seems as if the Good Captain above must be watching over us, to keep all harm from overtaking us. Yes, we are going to succeed, if pluck and love can pull us through!”
In this manner the two boys buoyed up each other’s courage. Nor was it at all strange that there arose now and then some necessity for such a thing. The task which they had set for themselves might have well given grown men, experienced forest rangers, cause for hesitation and doubt. The hidden perils of this unknown country had been the subject of campfire talk ever since the lads knew anything; and unconsciously their young minds had been impressed with the idea that many kinds of fierce animals inhabited the country far beyond the Mississippi, in the Land of the Setting Sun. And then there were numerous tribes of warlike Indians roving over the plains, and through the forests in uncounted numbers, and great beasts, the like of which the eyes of hunters had never before seen, having their homes among the sky-piercing mountains lying like a barrier far toward the distant ocean.
The darkness closed in even as they ate their frugal meal and conversed in low whispers. Roger was more than ever on the alert. The many little sounds of the night caused him to listen, and try to determine whether the shrill cry of the cricket, or the monotonous call of the katydid were genuine, or some signal of creeping enemies.
When a whippoorwill suddenly gave out his loud notes from a neighboring tree, the nervous Roger started as if he had been shot, and even thrust forward a hand, as though ready to snatch up his gun.
When finally they had finished eating, Dick seemed to have made up his mind to something that had been worrying him.
“Listen to me, Roger,” he said, impressively; “I was just thinking of what old Pat O’Mara told us once, of when he was in a dangerous land, and feared that the Indians might know of his camp. You remember he changed his location as soon as darkness covered his movements. And he was glad he’d done so, because, later on in that same night, he heard shots and yells in the quarter where he had been; and knew that the redskins were pouncing on the dummy figure he had left beside a little fire. We must do the same thing now. I wouldn’t sleep easily unless we made a move.”
“Just as you say, Dick; you’re the chief of the expedition, you know. But do you really think that Indian saw us, and perhaps followed us?”
“I seem to have an idea that way,” replied the other; “several times I thought, when I turned my head and looked back, that I saw a branch fall into place, just as if some one might be watching us from behind the green covert. And once I even believed I saw a shadowy figure flit from tree to tree. No matter if it is a false alarm, Roger; it is better to be on the safe side, as father says.”
“All right, whenever you say the word we’ll make the move,” Roger returned, “and how fortunate that we didn’t undo our stuff any more than we had to, in getting the blankets out. Shall I bring the horses in now, Dick, so we can load up?”
“Yes, it is pitch dark, and we can creep on without any one seeing us, Roger. Besides, if that red spy did follow at our heels, as soon as he saw that we meant to make camp here he must have marked the spot well in his mind, and then slipped off to hunt up the rest of the party. Perhaps they may be miles away, and it would take him hours to find them.”
Roger soon had the horses ready. Then the tired boys started off. They did not venture to mount, but walked ahead of their animals, leading them. This was on account of the darkness, which was so intense that neither could see more than ten feet ahead; and even at that distance the trees bordering the little rise looked dim and uncanny, as though they might be ghosts—at least, that was the way they appeared to the imagination of Roger.
For half an hour they walked along in this fashion, sometimes stumbling over obstacles they could not see, but making steady progress all the while.
“I think we have come far enough, now,” remarked Dick, finally, as he stopped in his tracks.
“Oh! I’m glad to hear you say that!” exclaimed the other, with a long drawn sigh, for he was very tired after that hot day’s journey.
They soon had the horses staked out again, close at hand. Neither of the boys expected to get very much sleep that night, for there seemed to be some strange foreboding in the atmosphere, that affected them.
As they had done on many another occasion, the boys divided the night into watches, each taking turn and turn about in keeping awake.
It was a moonless night, though the stars were bright enough. After a warm day, the myriads of insects seemed to be unusually noisy, and kept up a chorus that was soothing, rather than irritating, to the senses of Dick Armstrong, as he sat with his back braced against the trunk of a small tree.
Roger was sound asleep alongside; and, sitting there, Dick could hear the constant cropping of the horses as they continued to make a supper from the grass that grew in the open spaces, and still preserved its sweetness, despite the lateness of the season.
Now and again some distant sound would cause him to raise his head to listen; it might be the weird howl of a prairie wolf, the strange cry of a coyote, a new animal to both boys; or the hoot of an owl perched in some dead tree, and signaling to its mate.
But the night wore on, without anything out of the ordinary occurring, and Dick even began to imagine that his fears must have been groundless. Still, he could not regret having taken precautions; for it paid to be on the safe side always.
Then he suddenly sat upright. His manner indicated that his quick ears had caught some sound, however trifling, that seemed out of the common, and therefore, under the circumstances, suspicious.
It was as if a stone had been dislodged somewhere up on the little ridge, and in rattling down the side, caused a small avalanche. Still, a roving animal might have been the cause.
Dick turned his eyes upward. The top of the ridge happened to be devoid of undergrowth, and was sharply outlined against the starry heavens. One of the greatest of the planets was just about to set, and hovered above the ridge, as if on the point of sending out the last flickering gleam before dropping from sight.
Even as the boy sat there and looked, he saw something pass before this bright star. It was erect, and on two feet, therefore not an animal; moreover, Dick had seen the flutter of feathers crowning the scalp-lock, and he knew that it must be an Indian brave.
Another, and still another flitted past, until the startled lad had counted fully seventeen of the noiseless figures. Then he knew that they were heading toward the very spot where he and Roger had first intended spending the night, proving that the spy, after locating them, had indeed hurried away to summon his red companions.
Dick almost held his breath until the last dark figure had flitted past. His greatest fear had been that in some manner the keen ears of the Indians might detect the presence of horses down near the foot of the elevation along which they were making their way.
Dick waited a full minute after seeing the party vanish before making a move. He wished to be sure there were no stragglers lingering behind. And when this seemed a certainty he put out his hand, and gently shook his comrade.
“’Sh!”
Roger, starting up, heard this warning sound, and felt a thrill. He groped around until he had laid hands on his gun, placed close beside him when lying down to sleep.
“What is it, Dick?” he whispered, placing his lips close to the other’s ear.
“Danger! We must get out of this right away,” replied the sentry, in an equally low tone.
“Indians?” asked Roger, to make sure.
“Yes. A party has just passed along the ridge. It was just our luck that they took this place to come over the hogback, Roger.”
“You saw them, did you?” demanded Roger.
“I did that; and counted seventeen,” replied Dick, impressively; “all stepping in each other’s tracks. One must have started a stone rolling down, for its clatter made me look up. They went past like ghosts, and vanished below the rim, still heading that way.”
“Ugh! you mean in the direction of our first camp, don’t you, Dick? Then that lone hunter must have sighted us, even if he did pretend not to. How wise you were to change camps. Seventeen, you say; what could two boys do against that many braves? What next, Dick? I’m ready to do anything you say. Must we push on again, do you think?”
“Yes, because when they find that the birds have flown they will surely look this way for us. By that time we ought to be miles off.”
They set about making the move without more delay, though not hurrying in such a manner as to invite discovery through neglect of precautions.
The poor horses no doubt thought it pretty hard that they should be made to start out afresh without even a nap; but they were patient beasts and had no way of expressing their opinions, or showing signs of mutiny at being made to work overtime.
Once again did the boys lead the animals, for the darkness was too intense to trust to keeping their eyes so far away from the ground, when there was so much necessity for their discovering the presence of logs and pitfalls before the horses stumbled. Roger, if left to himself, would possibly have climbed into his saddle, and trusted to the instinct of his animal to detect obstacles in the way, but Dick was too cautious for that.
So they plodded on. It was weary work, but the knowledge that a deadly peril lurked near inspired the boys to endure the fatigue bravely.
“You seem to be veering off to the side, Dick; we’re getting farther and farther away from that ridge, back of which lies the river. What is that for?” asked Roger, after a while.
“In the first place,” replied the other, always willing to explain, “when the Indians find out that we’ve slipped away, they are likely to scatter, and search the woods for miles, believing that they may get trace of us in that way. Then, Roger, I’m too tired to think of keeping up this walk long. I want to get in the saddle, and ride, which we can do if once we find the open country.”
“Good for you, Dick; I’ll be glad myself when we can mount, and coax the horses to a gait faster than a walk,” Roger declared.
Several times Dick had paused. He seemed to be listening, and it was not difficult for his companion to guess why.
“Do you expect to hear them give tongue when they find the nest empty?” he asked.
“Perhaps,” replied his cousin. “They will be bitterly disappointed, that goes without saying; and when they strike a light, and start to following our tracks, as I’m sure they will do, we will probably hear them. Listen, Roger. What did I tell you?”
The night wind chanced to be coming from a point almost directly back of them, so that sounds were carried on its breath. First came a long quavering cry that seemed to be filled with bitter disappointment. Then followed a series of quick, angry yelps, that made Roger think of a pack of fighting dogs.
“They know now that we’ve given them the slip, don’t they, Dick?” chuckled Roger, whom even the recent peril did not seem to have daunted.
“They certainly do,” answered the other.
“But here is what seems to be another little rise on our left, Dick,” observed Roger, as what looked like a secondary ridge arose between them and the star-studded heavens.
“Yes, I’ve been noticing that for some little while now,” Dick answered. “And I’m sure that just on the other side lies the level prairie that we want to reach soon.”
“Then we must cross over that divide; is that the way, Dick?”
“When we come to a place where we can do it without exposing ourselves too much. Remember how I happened to discover the seventeen braves, Roger; though they would be too far away, perhaps, to see us crossing over. And here seems to be the right spot to make the attempt. I hope we find a trail for the horses, because they are not able to climb rocks as we can.”
A short time later they were slowly but steadily passing up from the little valley that lay like a swale between the two slight ridges.
“This is all right, Dick,” remarked Roger, when, after some toil, they managed to reach what seemed to be the pinnacle of the “hogback,” as the border boys called such a ridge.
“Yes, and if the going down is as easy, we can thank our stars,” answered Dick.
Before starting the descent he turned and looked long and earnestly in the direction whence those cries of disappointment had arisen a short time before.
“There, what did I tell you?” he exclaimed; “look yonder, Roger, and you will see something queer.”
“Are they fireflies, Dick?” questioned the other; “they seem to look like it at this distance; and yet I can see that they do not come and go, but keep up a steady light.”
“If you were closer, Roger, you would see that they were strange lightning-bugs; for each one is a torch gripped in the hand of a red-skinned warrior, who bends over and follows the trail we made!”
“Oh! then we didn’t start away from our second camp any too soon, did we, Dick?” exclaimed the younger lad, breathlessly, as he watched the lights that really did look like flickering fireflies in the distance.
“No; and now we’d better be getting off this high ground before they come close enough to discover us,” Dick remarked.
“But what is going to be the end of all this running about?” asked Roger. “Do we have to keep on the jump all night? See, the stars tell us it is even now close on midnight, for there is that other bright one just going to set. I’ve had two hours or more of sleep, but you haven’t yet closed your eyes, Dick.”
“Oh! there’s time enough for that after we’ve left these red rascals miles behind, Roger. Once we strike the level prairie it’s going to be a job urging our horses on by digging heels into their sides, much as I hate to do it. There is a limit to the distance even hardy braves can walk, following a trail by torchlight; and we’ll put a lot of ground between us before we rest.”
They found that it was not very difficult to pass down the other side of the slope, for their horses were sure-footed, and the way far from being impassable. And presently the bottom was gained.
Here there were a few scattered trees, that gradually the boys left behind, until presently the open prairie lay before them.
“Now to mount!” declared Dick, suiting the action to the word.
Roger was not a whit behind him in climbing into his saddle. It was no easy job doing this on account of the many bundles with which both horses were burdened, so that “climbing” would seem to cover the case very well.
When the horses were urged to start off on a gentle gallop Roger declared he felt very much like giving a whoop, to signify his delight at having so cleverly outwitted the red foe; but his cousin advised him to hold his breath.
“You know, Roger,” Dick said, in his quiet but convincing way, “that old Pat O’Mara, our father’s best friend, used to say an Indian had no business to crow until he was in the woods, and by the same token a white was a fool to shout till he was well out of them. And though we’re over the divide, and riding on level country, we are not beyond the danger line yet. So, if you’re wise, you’ll bottle up that cheer until we see the expedition of Captain Lewis, boats and horses, ahead of us.”
And of course Roger held his peace, for he had considerable respect for the opinions of his older companion.
They must have covered at least six or eight miles before the horses showed unwillingness to go farther without a rest. Dick then announced that they had come far enough.
And so once more, for the third time that night, the lads staked the animals out, and lay down on their blankets under the twinkling stars.
Roger insisted on his cousin taking a turn at sleeping, while he sat there and kept vigil; which Dick finally did, though a little loath to shut his eyes. However, he secured quite a few hours’ nap; and then Roger awakened him, so that he might in turn get a little more sleep before the coming of another dawn warned them that it was time to proceed.
Morning found them fairly rested after their hard night, and so far as they could tell there was no sign of the Indians. Evidently the hunting party had given up all hope of overtaking the fugitives when they found that the horses had climbed the ridge and struck the level country beyond.
Another day and still others followed, during which the boys kept sturdily heading into the northwest. It seemed so strange to them that, on account of the many hindrances, they could not overtake the explorers, who were always just a few days’ journey ahead of them.
Of course this was caused by the fact that the boys had frequently to make detours in order to avoid Indian villages that they discovered on the river bank; and in more than a few cases these circuits were the cause of their losing the river entirely, so that they wasted one or more days hunting for it again.
But their dogged determination to attain the object which had caused them to start on their undertaking never flagged. No matter what difficulties beset them, they would keep everlastingly at it until they had met with disaster, or else succeeded in their quest.
It was this spirit of never-say-die that made frontier boys develop into the resolute men they afterwards became; and which caused them to continually push out farther and farther into the unknown land until finally they had conquered the whole West, to transform the wilderness into one vast fertile region, where the grain to feed the nations of the world was to be grown later on; and the vast herds of long horned cattle were to graze by hundreds of thousands, taking the place of the vanishing bison.
Of course they met with many sights which were novel to their eyes, and would always remain fresh in their memories. But after all these weeks of journeying over the prairie, they were by degrees becoming quite familiar with the conditions connected with this new life; and as they became accustomed to them the boys grew more adept in accepting chances to creep up on antelope and scattered bison, so as to secure a shot and thus provide themselves with fresh meat.
On one occasion Dick had found an opportunity to try a clever expedient that he had heard spoken of by other hunters, but never before practised himself.
It happened that several antelope were feeding at some little distance from a hunch of grass in which the hunter had ensconced himself, in the hope that they would wander that way.
He had his rifle, since on that level stretch of ground it was not likely that any Indians might hear the report, or if they did, attach any special meaning to it.
Since the shy little animals did not seem to be feeding that way, Dick realized that if he hoped to get any fresh meat that day he must resort to some ruse. Having a red handkerchief with him, he conceived the idea of attempting the trick those old hunters had spoken about.
The antelope seems to have more than average curiosity, and will allow this failing to have full sway even when its instincts give warning of danger.
So Dick, fastening this red kerchief to the muzzle of his gun, waved it above the tuft of grass behind which he lay concealed.
The timid animals soon noted the strange bright object that waved in the breeze and at first started to run away; then, halting, they stared long and eagerly, by slow degrees coming back, only to turn and run again. But there seemed to be a fatal fascination in that queer red banner which they found utterly impossible to resist; and so closer and closer they drew, quivering with suspense, and apparently ready to fly if it should turn out to be an enemy, relying on the speed of their heels to carry them to safety.
But alas! they knew nothing of the “stick-that-spoke,” and sent out a death-dealing pellet of lead.
Dick had watched their coming and going, and noted that each time they advanced just a little farther than before. He believed that he was going to be given the chance he craved for a shot. This pleased him, for they had been without fresh meat for three days.
Finally the young hunter believed the antelope had come close enough, and that it would be folly for him to wait any longer.
Accordingly he selected the one he thought best suited for their purpose as food, and, having disengaged the red handkerchief from the end of his rifle, so that it might not interfere with his aim, he quickly covered the body of his intended victim with the white bead that he used for an end-sight, and pulled the trigger.
At that the herd of antelope sped away like the wind; but one did not keep company with its mates, for the bullet of the hunter had laid it low.
Dick felt more or less compassion for the little animal when he saw how delicately it was fashioned, and how innocent it appeared; but then he had been a hunter ever since he could lift his father’s rifle, and would not allow this feeling to have dominion over him, especially when they were in such need of fresh meat. So he was cutting up the game when Roger, who had kept the horses far away, came hurrying to the spot.
“What does this mean, Dick?” Roger asked, some days later, when they started to make a fire in the morning and found the air quite cold. “Does winter come so early in this northwestern country?”
“Oh! no, it isn’t that,” replied the other; “but, since the wind has whipped into the north during the night, and there’s been a storm somewhere, we’re in for a cool spell. I hope frost is far from us, because we have so much to do before that time. But a fire will feel good, and I think we might take chances.”
They had not seen any signs of Indians for some time now, but Dick was too cautious a boy to relax his vigilance on this account. Nevertheless, after the light of day had come, he believed they could make a fire out of smokeless wood that was not apt to betray their presence in the vicinity.
During this day they journeyed through dense timber, which was quite a change from crossing the wide, level stretches of country lying along so much of the upper reaches of the Missouri.
All the time they had to make sure of several things, especially the presence of the river not far away; and then the important fact that the exploring expedition sent out through the efforts of President Jefferson was still ahead of them.
It would have been a sad joke on the boys had they managed in some manner to outstrip the soldiers and voyageurs with Captains Lewis and Clark, and in this way gone ahead of them.
To make positive that this was not the case they were compelled to keep close to the river, looking for signs of an abandoned camping-place; and when such was discovered they found means to read the telltale evidence that denoted just how many days’ journey in advance were those they sought.
It was while they were jogging contentedly along during this particular morning that Dick suddenly drew rein, and raised a hand with a movement that his companion understood meant that he was to listen.
From some point ahead they caught peculiar sounds—a snapping and crackling, accompanied by dull thuds that mystified Roger greatly.
“Why, what can that he, Dick?” he asked, turning a perplexed face toward his companion, and at the same time fingering his always ready gun.
“Let’s move slowly forward, and find out for ourselves,” was Dick’s suggestion, which appeared to please his cousin, since both at once urged the horses ahead.
As they kept on the noise increased in volume; and accompanying the other sounds they could now hear snortings, and what seemed to be the snarls of beasts. Then came a plain yelp as of pain, followed by more prancings, and another of those dull thuds, as of a heavy body striking another, the impact causing the hollow sound.
“Seems like a fight,” said Roger, in a cautious tone, not removing his eyes from in front, where he now believed he could see the bushes waving, as if various objects were in motion beyond.
“That’s just what it must be,” Dick agreed.
In another minute they had reached a point where they could look upon one of the tragedies of the border, such as were in progress in season and out, hundreds of years before Columbus ever sailed into the western seas, to find a new route to the East Indies, and thereby discovered a new continent instead.
A noble old stag was at bay, with a pack of hungry wolves trying their best to drag him down. Already had he placed two of the gray beasts on their backs, and several of the others seemed to have suffered from contact with the sharp points of his antlers.
They had succeeded in running him down; perhaps a wound in one of his legs had prevented the game old fellow from escaping as easily as he might have done under ordinary conditions. The boys never knew how it came about; but there the stag was, with lowered head, doing his best to defend himself against his foes.
No doubt, had the combatants been left to fight it out in their own way, the tenacious wolves would in the end have pulled the old stag down, and made a meal off his carcase; for he seemed pretty well exhausted by this time, and there were still half a dozen of the savage brutes able to fight.
But Roger could not stand such a spectacle. He sympathized with the gallant old buck, and, slipping from his horse, bow and arrow in hand, crept forward, meaning to put in a few “licks,” as he called them, in favor of the animal that was outnumbered six to one.
Dick sat there, holding his rifle, and not wishing to waste any of his precious ammunition unless it seemed necessary. He knew he could depend on his comrade not to injure the brave buck, whose tough meat would be of little use to them for food. And, after the way in which he had fought the whole wolf pack, it seemed as though he deserved a better fate than being shot down.
The boy with the Indian bow succeeded in creeping close enough to get a good view of the performance. The actors in the forest tragedy were too excited and intent on their business to notice anything else. Even the usually wary pests of the timber were goaded to fury by this determined resistance on the part of their intended prey, and seemed wild to bring him down.
Roger never enjoyed anything more in his life than when he took a quick aim, and sent a feathered arrow flying toward the nearest of the pack. The beast went over in a heap, and Dick chuckled when he saw the end of the arrow projecting from that gray side.
Working like a machine Roger fitted another missile to his how, and again that fatal twang announced that the badgered stag had a new ally close by; for a second wolf rolled over, howling dismally.
By that time the balance of the pack began to awaken to the fact that there was something strange in the actions of their companions. Perhaps they allowed themselves to ignore the wounded stag for a moment, and sniff the air. At any rate, there was a sudden flight on the part of the four animals still able to run; and the stag found himself master of the field.
“Hurrah!” shouted Roger, unable to restrain his feeling of elation as he stepped in sight, waving his foxskin cap in triumph.
“Take care,” called out Dick, warningly, “or the stag may turn on you; he doesn’t know that you mean to be his friend; and it would be a shame to have to kill him, after the handsome way he stood off that pack!”
But the animal, while half disposed to attack this newcomer, being doubtless flushed with his apparent victory over the wolves, presently deemed discretion the better part of valor; for, turning, he went off at a limping pace.
“Good-by, and good luck!” called Roger after him, as he stepped forward to knock one of the wounded wolves on the head with his hatchet, so as to recover his two arrows.
Under ordinary circumstances the boys would gladly have halted to remove the skins of the wolves that had fallen, where the antlers of the stag had not ruined the pelts; but just now they could not think of such a thing. Their horses had all they could safely carry, and it would be the height of folly to think of increasing the load.
Although these lads had done considerable hunting during the last five or six years this happened to be the first time they had ever been given a chance to witness one of those forest battles which took place so often. True, once they had found the skeletons of two deer in the woods, and from the fact that their antlers were interlocked tightly, so that they could not possibly be pulled apart, it was evident that in a fight the bucks had become so attached to each other in this way that they could not separate, and that consequently they had starved in the midst of plenty, falling victims to their own passions.
On other occasions, when their journey led them through the vast prairies, other matters engaged their attention. Of course they had to make camp where night found them; and often it was far out on the billowy sea of grass, where they built their small fire in a hole dug in the ground, and spent the night in watchfulness and security.
But sometimes these nights were not as quiet and peaceful as they could wish. Until recently neither of the boys had seen a cowardly coyote; but often these scavengers of the plains seemed to scent the fresh meat which the boys had with them; and, taking up positions a short distance from the camp, they would make night hideous with their yelping.
After the boys had become accustomed to this discordant chorus they minded it very little. Had it been wolves they would have kept constantly on the alert lest the treacherous beasts pull down one of the horses; but these thieving coyotes did not have the courage to attempt such a bold deed, and could only hang around, watching for a chance to steal something when no one was looking. They might be called the sneak-thieves of the plains, while the gray wolf might be likened to the dashing pirate—bold, aggressive, and sometimes undaunted.
There was one night when these beggarly coyotes seemed to be more persistent than ever. Roger remarked that they came in closer, and several times he looked as though he would like nothing better than to go out and try to “pot” a few by means of his ever-ready bow.
However, Dick thought the animals hardly worth noticing, since their cowardly traits made them afraid to venture close enough to steal anything.
Of course he raised no objections when his companion declared he meant to set a trap, and teach at least one sneaking coyote a lesson. Roger was a clever hand at all sorts of snares and liked nothing better than laying one, whereby he might match his wits against those of a cunning beast.
So, taking his hatchet, and some bits of wood which they had brought along in case of need in cooking supper, he began pounding these down into the soft ground. In this way he constructed what seemed to be an avenue, about a foot broad, leading up to the place where he expected to place the bait of his gun-trap.
Finally he fixed his rifle in such a manner that it aimed directly down this enclosed section, and if it were discharged any creature between the parallel lines of stakes would be very apt to get shot.
When the trap was set Roger chuckled, and seemed to take considerable boyish pleasure in anticipating the surprise of the hairy thief, when, upon creeping stealthily along the limited space, he snapped at the tempting bait, only to have it apparently develop a sting, accompanied by a crash like thunder.
Dick had watched all these preparations with amusement. He knew how much pleasure the other took in managing these little surprises, for he had often observed Roger spending time fixing a trap for a fox, or it might be a bear. It had become what might be called a hobby with the boy, and in such matters he had few equals among the lads of the St. Louis settlement.
“Remember, and don’t be frightened out of your skin if you hear a shot some time to-night, Dick,” was the warning the maker of the trap gave, as he pronounced his work fit for business.
“I’ll try not to,” observed the other, then adding: “and I hope that if it succeeds, as you expect, the sound won’t bring any hostile Indians down on us. But at sundown there was nothing in sight, and that was why we dared to have our fire.”
It was just half an hour later that the boys jumped as though they had been shot, when the gun went off with a tremendous report. Dick immediately burst out laughing.
“That’s a joke on you, Roger, as sure as anything!” he exclaimed, when he could speak; “telling me not to be alarmed when your trap worked, and then nearly having a fit yourself. But let’s look, and see if you got your game.”
There was no doubt about that, for a dead coyote was found in the passageway between the stakes, looking for all the world like a thin, half-starved dog. This was the first time either of the boys had seen one of the animals close, and Roger was disgusted to think he had wasted a charge of powder and a bullet on the miserable beast.
“That trap will do for once, but I’m done shooting such scurvy things,” he declared, as he dragged the game out a short distance, and left it, in the hope that some of the other coyotes would dispose of it before morning; which they certainly did, for they could soon be heard snarling and quarreling as though there were too many guests at the banquet.
After that, when the coyotes howled, and made things disagreeable, Roger would take up his gun, fondle it for a minute, as temptation whispered at his heart, and then with a shake of his head he would place it once more on the ground as though he could not be coaxed to come down to such poor shooting. And so long as the miserable brutes kept clear of the camp, and did not annoy their horses, the chances were that they would be left alone to continue their nightly serenade.
When several more days had passed, and the boys found that they had again lost track of the river in seeking to save time by making a cut-off, Roger was very much downcast.
There was some reason for this, too, since it had really been his fault; Dick thinking it best to stick to the river, while his cousin argued that they would gain a whole day by saving the time spent in following the winding course of the stream.
And so they had struck out, taking more chances than were perhaps advisable under the circumstances. And now neither could say in which direction they must look in order to once more come upon the river.
Dick did not attempt to chide his companion. On the contrary, he even took a part of the blame on his own shoulders, and in speaking of the mistake, if such it should prove to be, always used the words “our blunder.” He knew very well that Roger was suffering enough without having “salt rubbed into his open cuts.” And the chances were, no matter how the experiment turned out, Roger after that would be slow to insist on having his own way.
Dick went about it in a cool, matter-of-fact way. He consulted his crude little chart, made up pretty much at a guess, for information had come in a dozen roundabout ways, none of which were strictly reliable. Then he took his bearings with relation to the sun, their previous course, and some other things that seemed to have an intimate connection with the case.
After that he laid out a new trail, and marked it on the map, explaining to his admiring and now repentant companion just how he believed they must head in order to once again reach the Big Muddy.
“And I feel so sure that we will strike it by keeping on toward the north that we must let nothing turn us from that course,” he ended, with a ring to his voice that told of determination.
“What if we run on to an Indian village, because we are now in the country of the Shoshones, you know?” Roger remarked.
“Then we’ll just wait for night,” replied the other, quietly, “and pass the wigwams by as close as we dare; for I would not want to make too wide a circuit. And now let us make a fresh start.”
This had been on the previous day to the one on which we again find the undaunted lads pushing directly into the north, bent on finding the river again.
Once more had the character of the country changed. The prairie had given place to rolling land, where grew stretches of trees. In the distance they could even see low elevations that might be called hills. Roger had been looking eagerly toward these, and hoping that they would re-discover the Missouri among them. Now that the river was lost it seemed to have additional value in the eyes of the two boys; and it was certain that they would welcome the first glimpse of its swiftly flowing waters with delight—at least Roger felt sure he would.
The sun was getting rather low in the heavens again, and once more they would soon have to be looking for some place to pitch their camp; but it was not so serious a matter when surrounded by a forest, where wood was in abundance, and numerous chances for hiding a cooking fire abounded.
Truth to tell, both boys always felt more at home when in the woods. They had been accustomed to seeing trees all around them; and those apparently endless level prairies, where not a stick of timber could be seen as far as their eyes traveled, rather appalled them, and made them feel almost helpless. One had to grow accustomed to these vast solitudes, and the monotony of that waving sea of grass, before he could feel at home.
“Keep your eyes well about you as we ride on, Roger,” Dick warned, not in a way to create alarm in the mind of his companion, but as though he wished to remind him that their policy was always to be prepared for emergencies, and never to be caught off their guard.
“You haven’t seen any sign of Indians around, I hope?” asked Roger, suspiciously.
“No, I’m glad to say not; but then there are sometimes other dangers lurking in a wood like this. They have panthers out here as well as we did down near our homes. And, while such a beast may never have set eyes on white people before, I reckon he’d jump down at us just as quick as if we were red boys, if it so happened that he was hungry.”
“Yes, the panther is a sly beast, but when pressed for a meal he will take chances every time,” returned Roger. “You remember that one we met in the timber on a winter’s day, just as the snow-storm commenced to gather. I saw him leave the limb just in the nick of time. I think he gave a little snarl as he sprang; and if it hadn’t been for that he might have borne me to the ground. As it was I managed to duck like a flash, so that he leaped right over me; and before he could swing around after recovering, your rifle had spoken, and it was all up with Mr. Panther.”
“Yes, and cases are known when men have been attacked openly on the trail by these gray woods terrors,” Dick went on, as though the subject possessed a certain fascination for him.
“The trouble is,” Roger continued, “you never know just how to take one of them. Sometimes a panther may seem to be the biggest coward going; and another day the same beast wouldn’t hesitate at attacking three men. Some hunters say they get crazy fits, and, when one of these comes on, the person who runs across a panther had better look out. But if I see a ‘painter,’ as old Pat O’Mara used to call them, I’m ready to give him the compliments of my gun, and without any palaver, too.”
After that they lapsed into silence, each doubtless occupied with his thoughts. Indeed, they had much pressing on their young minds about this time, when the fate of their mission was still in serious doubt. If it should fail, and all their long trip have been taken for nothing, they did not really know how they should have the courage to turn back, and retrace all these weary hundreds of miles down the river.
And whenever Roger became silent it could be taken for granted that he was allowing his thoughts to roam in a certain direction; in imagination picturing the happy day when he and his cousin would reach the home settlement, bringing with them, duly signed and witnessed, the precious document that was to bring such happiness to their loved ones.
The horses plodded on, with Dick keeping a guiding hand on his bridle, and occasionally glancing to the right, and to the left. Then he would look upward, so as to get his bearings from the position of the westering sun, which was of course on their left now, and could only be seen now and then, when there came a rift in the timber.
They would soon be compelled to pick out a camp site, for the day had almost reached its close. Roger was sighing because they had failed to reach the river, as he had fondly hoped would be the case at the time they started out that morning. And he was mentally chiding himself for the twentieth time that day, on account of having insisted on the experiment of saving time by taking a “cut-off.” No matter what the temptation might be, he was determined never again to try and influence Dick when the other thought differently from him. Dick was a born guide. He always figured things out accurately, and was seldom if ever known to go amiss when leading the expedition out of trouble; whereas he, Roger, was a bungler and only fit to tag behind, ready to assist.
Neither of the boys had spoken a word for nearly ten minutes. Roger was waiting to hear his comrade say that they had better pull up, and stop for the night. Much as he wished to halt, and prepare supper, for he was really hungry, he would not mention the fact to Dick, being too proud to exhibit any weakness. And the memory of how he had brought about all this trouble hung like a heavy burden upon Roger’s mind just then.
Around them the silence of the forest was broken only by the chattering of little ground squirrels, known to-day as chipmunks; or it might be the scolding of the hasty tempered blue jay in the branches of a cottonwood tree.
When, therefore, a sound of an entirely different nature struck upon the ears of the boys, they were greatly startled. It was almost a shriek, and both were of the impression that it was a woman’s voice.
Their horses began to prance, as though the unusual noise had given them a start, or else from some other unseen cause.
These boys of the border had always been brought up to be courteous to the other sex. They would go far out of their way to render aid to a woman or child in distress. And therefore, when they heard what seemed to them to be a cry of terror, and apparently in a woman’s voice, the first thought of both was to dig their heels into the sides of their horses, and urge the beasts forward in the direction whence the sound seemed to come.
It struck them as strange how unwilling the animals seemed to be to advance; and this fact caused Dick to entertain suspicions. Either Indians were about, and the intelligent beasts knew it, or else some sort of terrible wild animal lurked among the thickets close by, and had been scented by the horses.
But, under the urging of their masters, even the horses had to give way, though it was evident that they made the advance with reluctance.
And in this fashion, then, did they break through the screen of bushes, so that they stood upon the border of what seemed a forest glade.
What they discovered there was a picture neither of the lads would ever forget.
An old Indian squaw was brandishing a heavy billet of wood, which she had evidently hastily snatched up. Cowering under her protecting arm was a little girl of perhaps seven years of age—a pretty child, though undoubtedly also an Indian.
And crouching on the limb of a nearby tree, lashing its tail to and fro, as it worked itself up into a rage in order to launch forth upon its intended victims, was the largest gray panther either of the boys had ever seen.
It had come upon the squaw and her helpless charge suddenly, and, with the craftiness of its kind, was holding back its final spring, just as a domestic cat will allow a mouse to crawl away before pouncing on it.
At any second now the terrible beast might launch itself out, and crush the brave old squaw under its weight.
It was impulsive Roger, always as quick as lightning to act, who was the first to hurl himself into action.