Roger knew what was expected of him under such conditions. A regard for his own safety induced him to roll aside. If the wounded animal endeavored to fasten upon his body in its death throes, he preferred to be in some other and safer locality.
There was confusion for a minute or so. Roger, after escaping from the claws of the unseen beast, scrambled first to his knees and then to his feet. He could not think of going back to search for his gun, because something was struggling on the very spot, and he could imagine what that writhing object must be.
So he drew his hunting knife and waited. Then the sounds began to grow fainter, which the boy knew was a promising sign. Finally all became still again.
“Dick!” he whispered.
“Yes, I’m here, Roger,” he heard his cousin say.
“Is he dead, do you think?” asked the other.
“I have just poked about with the barrel of my gun, and touched him,” Dick replied. “There’s no movement to the body, so I feel sure I finished him. Come this way; I felt your gun with my foot just now.”
They had no means of seeing the motionless form of Dick’s quarry, unless they chose to go to great trouble with flint and steel and tinder. There was really no need of this, because all of them were familiar with the denizens of the forest; so that, using their hands, they readily ascertained the nature of the invader of the camp.
“Why, it’s only a wildcat, after all, Dick!” exclaimed Roger, a note of disappointment in his tones, as he came upon the abbreviated tail. “I was so sure it was the painter we heard crying earlier in the night.”
“I thought the same way, Roger,” confessed the other, “until I came to feel the fur, when something told me it was different. But we never yet killed such a wildcat as this, in all our tramping.”
“It does seem to be a monster,” admitted the other.
“It is not only the size I meant, Roger, but feel of the ears.”
“Why, how very strange, Dick; for all the world like a tassel at the end! What kind of a beast have we run across? We never saw wildcats like this along the Missouri, you know.”
“I have heard old voyageurs tell about a species they meet with further north in the cold country of the Chippewas and the Crees. They call it a lynx in Canada. It is a very fierce beast, all accounts agree.”
“But, Dick, think of his coming right into our camp, and trying to carry me off! I never would have believed it if any one had told the story. He tugged at my leg again and again. It was that woke me up, I expect. If that’s the kind of wildcats they have in this country, I am not surprised at the Indians keeping away from this region.”
“There must be some reason for the beast acting as it did. I think we will find that in rolling about you must have managed to get over the spot where Benjamin laid our stock of pemmican, and that was what the beast was after.”
“Oh! do you think so?” remarked Roger, heaving a sigh of relief. “Well, I shall be glad to believe he was not trying to carry me off. But all the same, Dick, you never before heard of a wildcat being so bold.”
“I never did, and that is a fact,” admitted Dick.
They settled down once more, though this time Roger changed his position so as to make sure he would not invite a repetition of the attack. Mayhew, too, had taken warning from the adventure; he proceeded to fasten their stock of dried venison to the limb of a tree in such a way that it would be safe from the depredations of any hungry animal.
That one alarm was not repeated. Throughout the balance of the night prowling wild beasts might roam the forest and seek their prey, but they gave the camp of the little party a wide berth. Perhaps they scented trouble in the blood of their kind that had already been spilled.
With the coming of dawn the boys were up and doing. Roger examined the stiffened form of the lynx with much curiosity. He seemed to be of the opinion that, since the ice had now been broken, they were apt to run across many other strange creatures, the like of which they had never before set eyes on.
Indeed, before they had been an hour on the way that morning, they began to notice that a remarkable change was taking place in the character of their surroundings. The sun’s rays, falling on the face of a hill, filled them with awe, for it seemed to reveal almost every hue of the rainbow. Here a waterfall burst upon their vision, the stream dropping fully a hundred feet, and looking like a bridal wreath as the light breeze carried the fine spray to leeward, through several rainbows.
“The Enchanted Land, of a truth, Dick!” was Roger’s comment, as they came to a full stop, to gaze upon these remarkable sights.
“Already it begins to look to me as though there might be some truth in the weird stories the Indians have been telling about this country up here,” the other boy confessed.
As for Mayhew, the guide, he could not find words to describe the mingled feelings of admiration and wonder that filled his soul. None of them dreamed of turning back, although they were beginning to encounter sights such as the eyes of white men had possibly never before beheld.
“Jasper was not dismayed by all this,” said Dick, “for we can see that he and his party kept on, following the course of this river of the cataracts and the rapids. So we, too, must march on.”
“I feel thirsty,” remarked Roger, shortly after this, “and as here runs a nice looking little stream I think I will take a drink.”
Dick was about to follow suit when he saw Roger suddenly start up from his kneeling position, with a look of the most intense astonishment on his face.
“Why, Dick, it burns me!” he cried. “The water is hot!”
Dick immediately tested it with his hand.
“Just as you say, Roger, it seems as though it might be over a fire. Do you know, I noticed something like a trace of steam, but I thought it only such vapor as we often see rising from ice-cold water.”
“But who ever before met with boiling water in the open?” asked Roger. “Why, there must be fires under the earth here, such as leap out of volcanoes in other countries.”
He even rested his hand on the rock close by, but found it cold. Vegetation grew all around the hot stream and pool, showing that it never overflowed its banks at any time.
“There’s one good thing about it,” remarked Dick, turning to the frontiersman; “after this, if these hot springs are common here, you will never need to build a fire in order to make a pannikin of tea.”
“I can believe almost anything after this,” muttered Roger, as he dabbled his hand in the pool, and quickly snatched it out again, for the water seemed to almost scald his flesh. “Of course nothing can live in such a stream. I wonder what next we will run across. Cats with tassels on their ears, rocks and mud looking like they had been painted every color going, waterfalls that drop from the clouds, and where rainbows play hide and seek in the sunlight, and now a boiling spring, and a hot pool. What if one of us had fallen in here, and could not get out?”
“We’ll soon begin to believe in those stories the red men tell of the Evil Spirits that live in this enchanted valley,” laughed Dick, who seemed determined not to allow himself to be dismayed by anything wonderful they might encounter in their wanderings.
“I’m getting that way even now, Dick. I tell you, it wouldn’t surprise me very much if we ran upon one of those monsters they say used to live in America centuries and centuries ago, much larger than an elephant. I only hope my rifle speaks true, if ever I have to face anything like that!”
Leaving the hot spring behind them, they pushed on along the trail made by Jasper Williams’s party. Doubtless those three men were also filled with wonder at what they saw. Roger more than once expressed doubt as to whether they would have the courage to continue their explorations much further, surrounded as they found themselves by such marvelous freaks of nature.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if we met them hurrying back out of here,” he told his companions. “Jasper himself is a bold spirit, but I have a poor opinion of the two other men with him. I believe they are inclined to be superstitious, like the Indians, and these things are enough to make the flesh creep.”
Here and there, as openings occurred, they could catch glimpses of distant peaks that looked like cathedral spires in the gilding rays of the sun. Dick was drinking in these pictures with eagerness, for the boy had something of the artist in his nature. He could appreciate such glorious works wrought by the deft hand of nature more fully than Roger, who saw rather the practical side of the picture.
Once, during that morning tramp, Roger did receive a fright. It did not come from any threatened attack on the part of a ferocious wild beast, nor yet through his narrow escape from falling into some pit where strange, gurgling, mysterious sounds oozed forth. On the contrary it was just because it started to snow furiously, so that the whole landscape was blotted out.
“That settles it, Dick,” he exclaimed, in sheer disgust, “we’re done for now. The only thing left us is to head as best we may for the place we believe the Valley of Wonders lies, and which we must be close to, right now.”
“You are in too big a hurry, Roger,” his cousin told him. “Just because a few flakes chance to come down is no proof that we are in for a storm. Look up and you will see the blue sky over yonder. It is only a passing squall, and soon over with, so cheer up.”
His prophecy proved true, because in another minute the snow ceased to fall, and out came the welcome sun again, to once more paint the hillsides with his wondrous brush, and stripe them with rainbow tints.
“You must own up that most of our troubles come and go like that,” commented Dick. “At first they seem to be dark and heavy, but all at once the sun breaks out, and we forget the gloomy past. It ought to be a lesson to you.”
“I know it, Dick, but my nature is different from yours. I am either bubbling over with joy or else weighed down with foreboding. But we can see some distance ahead at this point, and I must confess that there is no sign of a human being, so Jasper and his comrades cannot be returning along the trail.”
“The wind is shifting for one thing,” observed Dick, “which may bring about a change in the weather before very long.”
“Listen, what do you suppose that sound can be? If the weather were not so cold, and the season summer instead of early winter, I would surely say it was distant thunder!”
All three stood still to listen intently. Presently the far-away rumbling sound was again borne to their ears; and, just as Roger had declared, it was like distant thunder coming from beyond the range of forest-clad hills.
It was not strange that the two boys and the frontiersman turned uneasy looks upon each other, surrounded as they were by such strange freaks of nature.
“What about the swivel gun in the camp; could it be heard as far away as this, do you think, Dick?” asked Roger, as though a new idea had flashed into his mind.
The other shook his head in the negative.
“Hardly,” he replied, “and, even if it were possible, you forget that it is only when the wind picks up from this new quarter that we hear the sound.”
“And that is from the northwest, while our camp lies back yonder, more in the northeast,” admitted Roger. “I admit that, when I spoke, I was picturing a horde of half-naked Indians trying to carry the camp by storm, and Captain Clark rallying his defenders behind the breastworks we built out of pine logs and earth.”
“It is nothing of that sort, I am sure,” said Dick, “though, when you ask me to explain the origin of that sound, I am as much in the dark as you.”
“Well, as our way lies toward the northwest,” remarked Roger, “there’s some satisfaction in knowing we will be getting closer to the mystery all the time.”
“I am glad to see that you are not afraid, Roger.”
“There can be no telling what state I may be in before we get out of this strange country,” admitted Roger, laughingly. But Dick knew him too well to think he could show any sign of fear.
Mayhew said little, for he was naturally a man of few words. He could not be reckoned as above the average of his class; and possibly there was a well-defined streak of superstition in his nature, even as it was to be found in other bordermen of the day.
Left to his own devices, perhaps Mayhew would have much preferred not to advance any further into this unknown and terrifying land. He had no particular desire to learn whether the stories told were true or false; and the camp that had been left behind held many alluring claims to his regard.
But his honor as a reliable borderman was in the balance. He could not forget that, chiefly through his carelessness, there had been lost a paper entrusted to his charge, which was of the utmost value to these lads.
Hence he was firmly resolved to stand by them, no matter what happened, for the object of their venture was to duplicate the document he had allowed to slip out of his hands.
“There is the river over yonder; I can see the sun shining on the tumbling water of one of the numerous cataracts,” Dick commented, as he pointed in the direction indicated.
“The Indians have a story to the effect that it springs from a great fresh water inland sea lying over the ridges somewhere,” Roger remarked, as he stood looking at the foaming surface of the stream. “Do you believe there is any truth in that account, Dick; or can it be set down as a fable, like this Evil Spirit of the land?”
“Oh! it seems that others have looked upon the great lake at a distance, French traders and voyageurs, and they say it is surely there,” the other affirmed. “Who knows but that, before we see our good friend Captain Lewis again, we, too, may be able to boast of having set eyes on the mirror lake.”
“Captain Lewis told me he would give much for the privilege of accompanying us; but duty would not permit,” Roger observed.
“Yes, he cannot forget that the President committed the fate of this exploration into his hands, and looks to him to supply all the information possible,” said Dick. “So Captain Lewis, like an honorable and conscientious gentleman, will not take any unnecessary risk in order to gratify his curiosity. His place is there in the camp.”
Feeling hungry as noon arrived they munched some of the hard pemmican while keeping on the move. That suited the impetuous Roger, for it was virtually “killing two birds with one stone”; they satisfied their hunger, and yet found no reason to delay their progress in order to do so.
Mayhew still found a way to discern the trail of those who had gone over this same ground ahead of them. Indeed, it would have to be a faint track that his practiced eyes failed to discover.
All this while there had been a perceptible change in the character of the country. It kept getting more rocky, and wilder the further they advanced. Roger was constantly looking on all sides as though expecting to discover some new and remarkable thing at any minute. Indeed, Dick was also considerably worked up over the strange conditions surrounding them, and made up his mind not to be surprised at anything that might happen.
It was when they were in this receptive frame of mind that something occurred out of the common, to alarm them. Roger was the first to hear a sound, though Dick, seeing him come to a sudden halt, and stand in an attitude of listening, also began to catch it.
“Hold on, Benjamin,” said Dick, in a low tone, “there’s something queer going on around us that we must look into before proceeding further.”
“Of all the strange things, did you ever hear such a terrible groaning before, Dick?” asked Roger. “I wonder if it has anything to do with the noise we caught before, that was so like thunder.”
“Hardly, for that was surely far away, while this is close by,” replied the other boy, with a puzzled look on his sun-browned face.
Roger even took off his foxskin cap, as though he imagined that the dangling flaps which he used to keep his ears warm in bitter weather might interfere with his sense of hearing.
Again those strange groanings made themselves heard. This time both boys managed to locate the sound as coming from the right. That was at least one point gained, and it was toward that quarter they now turned their attention.
If they had been trying to pick out the most difficult spot in all the wild vicinity, they would have selected that toward which their attention was now directed. The rocks seemed to be piled on one another in hap-hazard fashion. Here and there they formed deep chasms, the sides of which were so precipitous as to be incapable of being scaled by any creature short of a monkey.
“It comes welling up out of the ground itself, Dick,” ventured Roger, presently, with awe in his manner, as though, after all, he might be wondering whether there could be any truth in the tales told of the Evil Spirit that haunted these weird ridges, speaking in thunder tones at one minute, and with dreadful groanings the next.
Dick believed in taking the bull by the horns in a case like this.
“We must look into it, Roger; it would never do for us to say we had been driven away through hearing some mysterious sound that we did not understand.”
“There it comes again, Dick, and louder than before. What can it be?”
“The hot spring seemed to tell of some sort of fires away under the surface of the ground,” the other said, reflectively, “and it might be that this is more of the hot vapor pressing up through holes in the rocks.”
“But how like human groans the sounds are!” marveled Roger.
“I agree with you,” his companion returned, “but have you forgotten the time we heard those terrifying noises coming from the old mill that stood a mile away from our homes, and how some of our companions fled, but we had the hardihood to go inside and look around?”
“Yes,” interjected Roger, quickly, “and we found the wind forced a way through a crack between two logs, and made the doleful noise! It may be something like that here.”
“We will soon know, because I mean to make my way over there and take a good look around,” announced Dick.
“If you go I will keep you company!” declared Roger, just as stoutly, as he gave a glance down, in order to make sure that the powder in the pan of his flint-lock rifle had not been disturbed, and that the weapon was ready for instant use.
Together they advanced, with Mayhew keeping them company. All were constantly on the alert for signs of treachery and danger. Those who dealt with the tricky red sons of the forest in the pioneer days learned to be always on the watch.
Now the sounds ceased, and the boys exchanged looks, as if asking each other whether this could have anything to do with their arrival. Were hostile eyes watching them from some rocky covert; and would a signal be given to launch an attack?
Dick, examining what lay just beyond, came to a conclusion.
“There is a gaping hole yonder, you see, Roger?” he noted.
“Where the rocks seem to drop straight down, you mean?” replied the other.
“Yes, and it is out of that hole the sounds came. Let us stand here, and wait to see if we can hear them again.”
They had not long to wait. Even as they stood listening intently, there came once more a long-drawn moan, which was followed by others. Then succeeded a rattling sound as though some heavy body were endeavoring to creep up the slanting rock, only to slip back again. They even heard the thud that seemed to announce the end of the vain attempt.
Still it was all unintelligible to both Dick and Roger. While the groans continued to well up out of the basin, they again started to creep forward. The brink was within plain sight, and in another minute they would be in position to peer over the edge.
What new and terrifying wonder they might discover there they could not even guess, yet it was with a thrill that the lads kept on, covering the intervening rock foot by foot.
They reached the brink together, and both immediately thrust out their heads to take the first look. Only for a brief space of time did they stare downward, and then, just as a cautious tortoise might draw back his head within his shell, Dick and his companion retreated.
“Oh!” gasped Roger, as he turned his face, filled with perplexity, toward the other, “did you see what it was, Dick?”
“After all, nothing so strange as we thought,” replied the other. “Instead of a supernatural happening, it was real human groans we heard. There are men trapped in that hole, and they have tried again and again to climb up, always to slip back again. They must he battered, and nearly starved, which would be enough to make them groan, I think.”
“But, Dick, I saw one of them plainly, and I knew him, too!” urged Roger, bluntly.
“Then you saw more than I did,” the other told him. “From the fact that they are dressed in buckskin I knew they must be hunters or trappers, but supposed it would turn out that they were French voyageurs, such as have roamed throughout the Northwest country since the time of Pontiac. Who was the man you saw, Roger?”
“It was surely Thomas Hardy, one of the men who accompanied Jasper Williams,” said Roger, showing much concern. “And I believe the other to be Mordaunt, the second frontiersman and trapper. But there is no third in the party. What can have become of Williams? If he is dead there is an end to all our hopes. Oh, Dick, I am afraid!”
Dick’s face had also lost much of its customary color, for a spasm of alarm had attacked his bold heart when his companion thus voiced his fears.
“Cheer up, Roger!” said Dick, making an effort to look as though he himself had no fear of disaster. “I’ve often heard my father say it is foolish to cross a bridge before you reach it. The first thing for us to do is to let these poor fellows in the trap know we are here.”
When there was a prospect for action Roger could rouse himself wonderfully.
“And we must get them out of that deep hole by hook or by crook, Dick!” he exclaimed.
The two pushed forward until they could look down toward the place where they had discovered the forlorn figures of the prisoners.
“Hello! Hardy—Mordaunt!” called Dick, just loud enough to make his voice carry to the men. He did not know what danger might be near, and on this account believed it the part of wisdom to be careful.
Immediately the pair below looked up. When they discovered the boys they manifested the greatest delight, even to shaking hands with each other. Evidently they had been close to the point of despair.
“We’re going to get you out of that hole first of all!” called Dick, “and then you can tell us what happened.”
“Where is Jasper Williams?” demanded Roger, unable to restrain his impatience longer.
“We do not know,” came the discouraging answer.
“Then he isn’t down there with you?” pursued Roger.
“No. The last we saw of Jasper he was still alive, although hotly pursued.”
Naturally these last words excited Roger’s curiosity more than ever. He could easily guess that the party must have met with a stirring adventure of some sort, and if Williams had fled it must have been hostile Indians who pursued him. But Dick would not hear of any further delay in starting work.
“Come, Roger, I shall need your assistance,” he told the other. “Bottle up your curiosity until we can get those poor fellows up out of the pit. They seem to be injured more or less, for Hardy has a bandage around his arm that looks bloody.”
Roger was only too willing to render what aid he could, though the fact struck him that they were not likely to find it plain sailing.
“If they couldn’t climb up out of that hole on account of the smooth face of the rock, how shall we go down to help them, Dick?” he demanded.
“That would be foolish,” was the reply. “We must plan to draw them up here.”
“But, Dick, where is the rope to come from? We brought nothing of the sort from the camp?”
“Then we must find a substitute. Look back at some of our experiences, and tell me if we have not done that more than once when in the forest?”
“Why, yes, a wild grape-vine can often be made to serve the purpose of a rope, because it is tough and long and pliable. But where can we get such a thing now?”
“As it happens, I noticed some vines growing not far back, and I am leading you to the place now. Look over yonder at that little swale, where the trees grow so densely; there are vines hanging from the branches, for I saw them swaying in the breeze.”
“Yes, I do believe you are right,” admitted Roger, who possessed splendid eyesight. “I only hope we find one long enough.”
“Oh! as to that,” responded Dick, calmly, “we could easily splice a pair of them. There’s nearly always a way to do things if only you make up your mind to do them.”
They soon arrived at the patch of swampy ground where the undergrowth grew so densely. It was an ideal place for wild grape-vines, and small wonder that they grew to such a length, some twisting in spirals around the trunks of the trees, others hanging from limbs that were fully twenty feet overhead.
Roger gave expression to his satisfaction the minute he set eyes on this network of vines.
“No trouble getting what we want here, I should say, Dick. Look at that monster vine; though this one seems better fitted for our purposes, because it is like a stout rope, if only it proves tough enough to hold a weight.”
“No trouble about that, I’m thinking,” said Dick. “You could hang half a ton on that vine and it would hold. You are a better climber than I ever claimed to be, so get up the tree and cut it loose above.”
Nothing suited Roger better than this. Laying his gun down, together with his powder-horn, which might be in the way, he started up the tree indicated. Arriving at the limb to which the vine they had selected seemed to be fastened he first examined it carefully, and then with his knife soon cut it free.
“Take care while I drop it, Dick!” he called, and shortly afterwards descended to the ground.
The vine was quickly trimmed so as to free it from useless growth, and, dragging it after them, the lads once more went to the brink of the pit that had proved a trap for the members of the exploring party.
When this substitute for a rope was lowered it was found to be quite long enough for their purpose. One of the men immediately started to climb, and what before had seemed an insurmountable task now became easy.
Ten minutes later both had been rescued from their predicament. They were shivering from exposure and fright, and the first thing the boys did was to make a small fire in a depression amidst the rocks, over which some water was heated, and a pannikin of tea brewed.
When the men had eaten something, and washed it down with liberal portions of the hot tea, Roger could hold back no longer. He wanted to learn what had happened, and how they had become separated from Jasper Williams.
The men had evidently been through a rough experience, and seemed to have lost all inclination to proceed any further into the unknown country of mysteries. Indeed, from certain words that they had dropped, it was plain nothing could induce them to return. They meant to head directly toward the camp near the Mandan village.
This being the case, Dick was anxious to learn all he could before the separation came about, and so he did not attempt to chide Roger on account of the other’s impatience when he burst out with:
“Now please tell us what it was all about, and who pursued Jasper Williams at the time you saw him last?”
Hardy seemed to be the best talker, for it was he who answered.
“The Indians came down on us when we were not expecting an attack,” he explained, looking somewhat humiliated, for a frontiersman was apt to feel a blush of shame when compelled to admit that for once his vigilance had relaxed.
“Were you in camp at the time?” asked Roger.
“Yes, close to the river,” Hardy continued. “We had been seeing some wonderful things, and Jasper seemed to believe there were others even more amazing beyond. Then, like a bolt out of the clear sky, they dropped down on us. Some sprang from the bushes, while others appeared on the river in canoes made from dugout logs.”
He drew a long breath, as though the recollection of that sudden attack would give him a bad feeling for a long time to come.
“But you must have snatched up your guns and fought them?” pursued Roger, who could not picture Jasper Williams doing anything less, since he had the reputation of being an unusually valiant borderman.
“That was what we did,” replied Hardy. “After shooting and wounding some of our enemies we clubbed our guns and strove to beat our way clear of the howling pack. In some fashion Jasper became separated from us. We managed to burst through the Indians, and fled for the thickest of the neighboring woods. Somehow we did not seem to be pursued, and, wondering at that, I looked over my shoulder, hearing the yells of the savages growing fainter.”
“Yes, and what did you see?” Roger demanded.
“Jasper had managed to leap into one of their canoes, and was paddling like mad up the rough water of the Yellowstone, with the other boats in hot pursuit. They vanished from our sight around a bend in the stream, but for a long time we could hear the sound of distant yells when the wind turned that way.”
“You do not know certainly, then, that Jasper was captured or killed?” Dick asked.
“We cannot say,” replied Hardy. “All we thought about then was to get away from that region, and start back to the camp. We have seen enough of this wild country to satisfy us. By accident we managed in the darkness of the night to fall into that hole, and we have been held prisoners there ever since, suffering all the tortures of cold, hunger and despair. When we heard you call out it seemed to us the finest sound we had ever listened to.”
The men had finished their meal by now, and seemed anxious to make a start over the back trail. Dick did not attempt to influence them to change their decision, for he knew it would be futile. As they had both lost their powder-horns in the fight, and their long-barreled guns were useless without ammunition, he managed to spare a small amount of the precious stuff, enough to give them several charges apiece.
“You can shoot game, and live in that way until you reach camp,” he told them as he watched both men eagerly load their guns. “But what of these Indians who attacked your party—they were not of the Sioux or the Mandan tribes, I take it?”
“No—Blackfeet, and hard fighters,” the man replied. “I do not believe they would have allowed us to escape, only that they seemed most anxious to get Jasper Williams, for all of them pursued him, some in boats and the rest on land.”
This struck Dick as peculiar. Why should Jasper Williams count any more with the hostile Blackfeet than the other two explorers? His hair would make a no better looking scalp than theirs!
Dick was still pondering over this as he shook the two men by the hand and expressed the hope that they would meet with no further troubles until they gained the camp and gave his message to Captain Lewis.
“Have you arrived at any conclusion, Hardy,” he observed, “as to why the Indians should want to capture Jasper Williams so badly that they would neglect you two, and even let you escape?”
“We talked that over, Mordaunt and myself, while we were in the pit,” came the answer, “and both of us decided that the men who were with the Blackfeet must have hated our companion, and had promised a reward to the redskins if he was captured. That only would explain the mystery, we thought.”
“Why, were there white men with the Indians?” cried Dick, beginning to see a gleam of light. “Were they English, or frontiersmen, or French?”
“They must have been French, because we heard them calling out, and it was in that language. They seemed wild with anger because Jasper had not fallen into their hands. In the boats they kept shouting to the paddlers, and urging them to greater exertion. Yes, the Frenchmen must hate our companion, and I fear he will never live to come back to us again.”
As the two men walked away, heading toward the northeast, Dick and Roger exchanged significant looks, for they now knew the worst.
“Bad news for us, Dick,” muttered Roger, shaking his head despondently.
“I am sorry it had to happen,” the other remarked; “but while there’s life there’s hope. Jasper is no novice in woodcraft. Those Frenchmen and their red allies will find it no easy task to capture him. And even if they should we are bound to try to bring about his release.”
“It must have been that François Lascelles and his rascally son, Alexis, surely,” ventured Roger.
“Yes, I am sure of it,” Dick admitted, frowning.
“They were not satisfied with destroying the paper we had sent home, but came back to keep us from getting Jasper to sign another. Oh! they are determined to steal our homes away from us! They will stop at nothing to take them!”
“All is not lost yet. Remember that we have always managed to pull through in times past. We shall again; something seems to tell me so.”
When Dick said this he looked so determined and resolute that, as usual, Roger found his own spirits wonderfully revived.
“I complain a lot, I know,” he remarked, as though ashamed of his actions, “but all the same I give up hard. Deep down there’s a never-say-die feeling in my heart. When you say we will keep everlastingly at it you express what I feel.”
Both felt better after that. They knew that it was useless to pay any further attention to the faint trail of Jasper Williams and his two companions. They must trust partly to luck in order to once more run across the man they so urgently desired to see.
“One thing we must remember,” said Dick, as they again set forth on their way.
“What is that?” asked Roger.
“We have come to know Jasper fairly well since joining the exploring company, and helping him to escape from Running Elk’s Sioux. We even know some of his signals, and if we have any reason to believe he is around we can make use of them to communicate with him.”
“That is a good idea,” agreed Roger. “Even if he is a prisoner we could let him know friends were near by using the secret call. But we seem to be making for the bank of the river; tell me what plan you have in mind now.”
“You heard me ask Hardy about the exact place they were set upon by the Blackfeet? That is where we must go first of all. Trail we have none, for the last seen of Jasper he was on the water, which leaves no track. But, starting from that point we will follow up the river until we find something.”
“We could not do better, I am sure,” acknowledged the other, and Mayhew nodded his head as though he also concurred in the plan.
“If the Frenchmen are Lascelles and his son,” continued Dick, as they trudged along, “they would not care if Jasper were killed, so long as he could not interfere again in their scheme to defraud our parents out of their property.”
“Yes,” added Roger, impulsively, “and, should our friend be captured, they would influence the Blackfeet to carry him far away to their village in the Northwest country, where he would be made to adopt their ways and become an Indian warrior. Either that, or else he would be burned at the stake, after their usual custom with prisoners of war.”
“We are close to the river,” Dick announced.
The Yellowstone is a very turbulent stream, especially far up toward where it has its source in the great lake of the same name. It rushes down over its rocky bed with numerous cataracts, making navigation impossible to any but canoes managed by the most experienced paddlers.
The fretting of its current was plainly audible long before the little party arrived on the bank. Above and below, it wound in and out, seldom keeping a direct course for half a mile, such was the roughness of the country through which it found a passage.
Without wasting any time in admiring the wonderful picture that was now spread out before them, the three scouts turned up-stream, and continued to advance. They were anxious to reach the scene of the fight between Jasper Williams’s little band and the Blackfeet, set upon them by the unscrupulous French traders.
Having now been made aware of the fact that hostile Indians were roaming the vicinity, they exercised more caution than up to this time had marked their pilgrimage into the unknown land.
An hour—two of them—passed, and thus far nothing had occurred to disturb their peace of mind. All this time they had continued pushing forward. Occasionally they would make a little roundabout passage so as to clear an open glade where the danger of discovery was imminent. No discordant yells from savage throats arose to thrill them.
“It seems to be a long way off, Dick,” ventured Roger, who evidently had not taken into consideration the fact that at the time of the attack Williams and his companions were something like half a day’s journey along.
“We must be getting close to the place now,” he was assured. “I was just deciding that the next bend in the river would turn out to be where they made their camp. Hardy told us, you remember, that they had hardly settled down there last evening when they were attacked.”
“Yes, it was an hour before sunset,” he said. “They were feeling tired, and the chance for a fine camp tempted them to stop long before dark came on. Hardy tried to describe the place to us, and I suppose you think you can recognize it from the way the trees hang out over the water?”
“That is what I settled in my mind; but we’ll soon know. Given half an hour and we should be there.”
The time dragged with the always impetuous Roger; but finally they arrived at the bend of the river indicated. All immediately began to look for signs to prove that the men had camped there.
A joyous exclamation from keen-eyed Roger announced that he had found the dead ashes of a fire in a little depression among the rocks. Then the others discovered footprints of moccasined feet, many of them in the softer places where the earth was not yet frozen.
“Here are the tracks of Indians, for they all toe in,” Dick observed, stating a fact that was well known to every pioneer boy of the day. “Toeing-in” was invariably the sign of an Indian, though of course some bordermen had also taken to that method of walking, which is supposed, to be the natural way.
“And these others were made by whites, either our friends or the Frenchmen,” added Roger, quick to pick out those that differed from the first type.
“I am looking for the track of Jasper,” Dick told him, as he continued to move this way and that, his eyes searching the ground as he neared the bank of the river.
“But tell me how you would know his trail from any other? Most moccasins make pretty much the same kind of a mark, I’ve always believed.”
“Well, Williams’s do not, it happens,” the other explained. “I thought you must have noticed it as we came along. He bought the pair he is wearing from a Mandan squaw. They have a queer seam across the middle. I never saw one like it before, and I think that is the track now.”
He pointed to the ground, and Roger, looking, gave a cry of satisfaction.
“It certainly is as you say, and here must be where Jasper jumped when he made for the water, and sprang into one of the dugouts. See, in many places his footprints are partly covered by those of the pursuing Blackfeet.”
“And this must be where he found the canoe into which he jumped,” continued Dick, as he showed his companion a slight depression in the sand.
Both stood and looked up the turbulent river. The water tumbled over the rocks that thrust their heads above the surface in many places; it even leaped high in the air and sent out clouds of spray where a cataract could be seen over toward the other shore. But whatever secret it held it gripped tightly, and neither of the boys could lift the veil.
“I wish we knew what happened up there, and if Jasper did get away, or was taken by those plotting French traders and their red allies,” mused Roger.
“Well, it will do no good for us to stop here and wish,” his companion told him. “There is work to be done, and the sooner we start the quicker we can reach the end. One thing is sure, if Jasper is alive, whether free or a prisoner, we will find him!”
There was no need of lingering any longer, since they had learned all that could be ascertained. It fitted in with the story told by the two men who had been Jasper Williams’s companions.
“It seems to me our next best course would be to keep along the border of the river,” remarked Dick. “If those who were in the canoes came ashore it would likely be on this side of the stream, because it seems to be a better channel than on the other side.
“Besides, if we watch out we can see the marks left by those of the Blackfeet who ran along the shore expecting to head Jasper off; though I don’t think they could do that, because in many places they would have to pass around deep coves that lead many rods inland.”
For some time they followed the river. Now and then they managed to discover some tracks of the Indians, but at the end these seemed to be missing, and it was concluded that the band must have left the stream to pass further back in the country.
Unable to find any trace of them, the boys were placed in the position of not knowing whether Jasper had been taken or not. The going became so difficult, and the hope of reward so slight, that in the end they determined it would be best to also leave the river, and take to the higher ground.
Here they could wander about, constantly on the watch for some sign that would indicate a temporary camping place of those whom they sought. If a wisp of trailing smoke caught their attention it would do much to locate the resting place of the Indians. They must eat, and particularly the Frenchmen would desire a warm meal, so that in this way those who sought them might be rewarded for their vigilance.
Hope was struggling with despair in Roger’s heart. Look as he might, he could not see any silver lining to the dark cloud. Still, the energy and resolution that his companion continued to show buoyed up his own sinking spirits to a considerable extent.
They had now left the river far behind, and had entered upon a new phase of their journey. Several times at stated intervals they had heard that singular deep throated rumble, and felt the ground tremble under their feet. Whatever it could be that caused this strange sound, they were evidently approaching the scene of its mysterious operations, and might come upon it at any time.
It was about the middle of the afternoon when Mayhew uttered the low hiss which they had settled on as a warning of danger. At that instant Roger and Dick also caught glimpses of flitting figures amidst the forest trees, which they knew must be Indians.
The three dropped to the ground, where they flattened themselves out so as to be as inconspicuous as possible. Of course the prospect of approaching trouble caused the hearts of the boys to beat doubly fast, but they managed to control themselves.
“Do you think they saw us?” whispered Roger, finding his head close to that of his comrade.
“We will soon know,” replied the other, in the same cautious manner. “They have not given a single yelp as yet. But Mayhew is beckoning to us. He wants us to crawl along after him, where these bushes will shield us.”
They kept as close to the ground as possible while making progress. Now and then one of them would carefully raise his head to take an observation. When this chanced to be Dick, his cousin invariably whispered an inquiry in his ear, which the other answered with a movement of the head.
They could hardly believe that the keen-eyed Indians had failed to notice their presence, though it did seem strange that they should have refrained from announcing their delight at the discovery in fierce yelps, as was their custom.
Mayhew undoubtedly had some sort of plan in mind when he beckoned the others to follow. He was an experienced scout, and knew as much about the tricky ways of the red men as any borderer of his time. It was on this account that Captain Clark had suggested that he accompany the boys on this trip, as well as to allow Mayhew a chance to repair the damage his blunder had done to their cause.
Three times he abruptly changed his course. Evidently he had a reason for this, and Dick suspected that the guide must have discovered the enemy to be lying in wait for them ahead.
It was thrilling, but tiresome. Roger found himself wishing heartily that something would happen to break the silence. It seemed to be oppressive, to be weighing him down as with a heavy load. Indeed, to the impulsive lad almost anything would be preferable to this terrible stillness.
It was while Roger was allowing himself to give way to this feeling, and wondering whether, after all, it might not do better if they sprang to their feet and ran for it, that something did occur, and of a nature to surprise him.
Crouching at the foot of a tree, and just about to slowly get to his knees in order to take an observation, Roger suddenly felt himself pulled down. Dick had seized his hunting tunic, and given it a quick, strong tug.
At the same instant Roger heard an odd, whistling sound that seemed to come from a point very close to his ear; this in turn was succeeded by a little thud, such as one might make when striking his hunting knife against the bark of a tree.
As the boy twisted his head around, his wondering eyes fell upon something that caused him to draw in a long quavering breath. It was the feathered shaft of a Blackfoot arrow that had its flint head buried deep in the yielding wood of the tree. In order to have reached that spot it must have passed only a few inches above Roger’s body.
Then the Indians did know of their presence; the fact of this shaft having been sent in their direction told the story. Roger somehow found himself wondering if those stories he had heard about the Blackfoot warriors poisoning the tips of their war arrows could have any foundation in truth. It was not a pleasant thought when they found themselves at bay, surrounded by an unknown number of the savage tribesmen.
But Mayhew was once more creeping on; if he did not wish to be left behind he must follow in the wake of the guide.
Dick brought up the rear. It may have been accident that brought this about, and, then again, perhaps the boy had some design in taking his place at the end of the line. He knew the impulsive ways of his cousin, and that there was always a chance that Roger might get himself into trouble through lack of caution.
Possibly the guide had knowledge of some locality that lay a short distance beyond, where they could defend themselves better than in the open. The face of the country was rough, and in many places rocks cropped out that could be made to serve those who were surrounded by perils.
Once again was the whistle of a feathered shaft heard, though this time it simply cut through the bushes over their heads, and found no lodgment in the trunk of a tree.
This was the second narrow escape they had had. It was not to be expected that such good fortune would continue. Other arrows were bound to be fired, and at any minute one better aimed than the rest might find lodgment in a human body.
Roger gritted his teeth savagely as he crept on. How he wished Mayhew would come to a pause, thus signifying he had done all he could to further their escape, and was now at the end of his rope! Then they could rise up, and use their guns upon the crafty enemy, following with the pistols they also carried, and which at short range would count for just as much as the rifles.
Was the ground actually trembling underneath, or did his own shaky condition deceive him? Roger could not decide this question off hand. It seemed to him that, when he placed a hand on the rocks, it felt a warmth that was unmistakable. At any other time he would have wanted to stop to discover why this should be so; but the conditions by which they were surrounded just then would hardly permit such a waste of precious seconds.
In imagination Roger could see the Indians creeping up, bows and arrows in hand, waiting until a certain point had been reached, when they would give a concerted whoop, and rush to the attack.
He wondered if they had ever heard a gun fired at close quarters and, if not, whether the sound would alarm them. It had proved to be the case in other instances he had heard old trappers mention, where they were saved through the fear shown by the savages at hearing the crash, and seeing the flash, when guns had been discharged.
Ah! that was a third arrow he heard hurtling past, and it must have shivered into splinters against that rock when it struck. Either the marksmen were sending their missiles at random, or else they had some design in thus driving the three crouching whites forward. Was there some sort of a trap beyond, into which they might fall? Roger was of half a mind to turn on Dick, and demand that they change their method of retreat into one of open defiance.
There was no need of his taking this step, because circumstances decided for him. Even as he was hesitating, and more than half inclined to force the issue, there broke out such ear-piercing yells as neither of the two boys had ever heard before.
To Roger’s mind that settled it, once and for all. Further flight was useless—at least, flight of the slow and hesitating type they had been trying to carry out. If they chose to try to escape without a fight, then they must take to their heels, dodging to the right and the left so as to avoid the rain of arrows that was sure to follow them.
To scramble to their feet was the work of an instant. All held their weapons ready for immediate use, because they believed they would have need of them, with the enemy charging from several points at once.
When Roger looked around he found it hard to decide where to send the bullet his gun carried. Here and there he could catch glimpses of flashing forms as they darted from rock to rock; but all these movements were executed with such surprising quickness that, although he several times started to raise his rifle, before he could obtain any sort of aim the object of his attention had vanished.
Perhaps the quivering tip of a colored feather worn in the hair of an agile brave would be seen above the crown of the sheltering rock, but it would be folly to waste ammunition on such a will-o’-the-wisp target.
The worst of the matter was that all this time the dodging foes were gradually drawing their ring closer and closer around the three whites. Every time a flitting copper-colored figure flashed across a little opening, to disappear again behind other shelter, it was shortening by just so much the distance separating the two hostile parties.
Arrows were beginning to hurtle past their heads, too, as some of the red men found opportunities to use their bows. That none of the palefaces had thus far been struck was more a matter of good luck than anything else.
Mayhew did not mean to stand there and wait for the coming of all those skulking warriors. He knew that there must be a score of them, all told, and, should it come to a hand-to-hand combat he and his young companions would have but a sorry chance to hold their own, much less be victors in the encounter.
In one direction, alone, could he seem to discover an opening, where for some reason the Indians had failed to cover the ground.
“Follow me, lads, and duck as you run!” he shouted at the top of his voice, at the same time starting off at a furious pace.
Then began a curious race, with the three fugitives jumping from side to side as they ran, hoping in this way to escape being hit by any arrows that might be sent after them.
Some of the Indians halted to make use of their bows, but the main body kept after the three fugitives. If the worst came, of course the whites could suddenly whirl about, and do some execution with their firearms, though Mayhew knew that it would never do to let the pursuers approach so close as to be able to hurl their stone-headed tomahawks, with which they could split a willow wand, if placed against a tree, at twenty paces.
Mayhew figured that they would be able to reach the spot he had picked out for a stand, if nothing happened to upset his plans. Once there, if they poured a deadly volley in among their pursuers, and followed that up with a second from their small arms, the Indians might become demoralized.
It might have worked as he hoped, but the chances were that the Indians would have immediately dodged, and in this way escaped the full effect of the bombardment. Then, when the firearms were empty, they would push their advantage, and numbers must surely tell.
The yells were still rising discordantly behind them, when Dick began to notice a decided change to their intonation. What had before seemed only an outbreak of savage rage now had turned to wonder, and even deadly fear.
There was also something else that caused the boy to turn his head, in order to cast a backward look. No sooner had he done this than Dick came to a full stop, his loud shouts attracting the attention of his two companions, and causing them to copy his example.
No longer were the eager Indian braves chasing madly after their intended quarry; on the contrary, each and every warrior seemed bent on running like mad in the opposite direction, as though pursued by a legion of evil spirits.
To the whites there was no mystery in regard to the fright of the ignorant and superstitious Blackfoot braves, for before them they saw a mighty column of steaming water gushing fully a hundred feet up into the air, to descend in an imposing flood. As if an unseen hand had directed it, the giant geyser had spouted just in time to come between the hostile Indians and their intended victims!