“It is the Shoshone war-cry!” exclaimed Roger, instinctively, as he heard the piercing, bubbling sound that must have been uttered with a hand to the mouth.
Dick seized hold of his chum. He realized that any delay now might prove very costly for them both.
“We must get away from here!” he cried, thinking of what Roger had said concerning the savage ways of the Indians, and how they often preferred killing their prisoners to letting them be set free, or taken by a hostile tribe.
“Your gun, Dick?” asked Roger, breathlessly.
“I mean to make a grab for it,” replied the other, who was already moving off.
Then it was that his careful survey of the surroundings came into play, for Dick had made a mental map upon which he could depend when utter darkness lay upon the earth.
Roger, still hearkening to the dreadful sounds that were bursting out all about them, felt his companion duck down, and he judged that they must be alongside the log on which the gun with the ammunition had been placed by the Indian who had led them into the trap.
And, somehow, Roger guessed that success had come to his chum, even though he himself could not see anything of the gun. Again he was being half dragged along, as though Dick had chosen his course, and was trying to follow it.
Their one idea now was to get away from the camp, and let the hostile red men have their fight out to the bitter end. Small affair it was of the boys whether the Dacotahs whipped the Shoshones, or the latter overwhelmed the braves who had been the captors of the young pioneers.
Skillful maneuvering was necessary in order to avoid contact with any of the furious warriors. The boys heard the sound of blows being struck, and their lively imaginations could picture what was occurring nearby, as they slipped along through the darkness.
Fortune was kind to them, after all, for they did not strike against a single dusky figure, although several times they had to sink close to the ground when they heard the rush of moccasined feet close at hand.
Now the noise of the desperate hand-to-hand conflict was behind them, Roger noticed with a feeling of great relief. He could hear not only the war cries of those who fought, but occasionally there also came sounds of darker import, such as were probably the death chants of those who were bound for the “happy hunting grounds” of the red men. As they gradually put all this horrible clamor further and further behind them, the two boys felt their own spirits rise higher. The attack of the Shoshones had come just in the nick of time to help the young pioneers. It had served to cover their escape as nothing else could have done.
Roger was panting for breath, because of the excitement as well as his strenuous actions. He had knocked into more than one tree, but without so far seriously hurting himself; and as usual the boy felt that he must give tongue to the feelings of wild delight that were rioting through his veins.
“We did it, Dick, for a fact; gave them the slip!” he burst forth.
“It looks that way, Roger.”
“And now all we have to do is to get our bearings, and make a fresh start for the river; isn’t it?” continued Roger, anxiously.
“That’s all, Roger,” he was assured. “And already I feel that we are on the right course, so we’ll keep along as we’re going now.”
“But the fight seems to be over with,” added Roger. “At any rate all the yells have stopped. I wonder whether the Dacotahs whipped, or were overpowered by their foes? Though for that matter we care mighty little how it turned out.”
“Since neither of them were our friends,” Dick admitted, “we had no interest in the outcome of the forest battle. It was a case of dog eat dog with us; and I only hope we’ll run across no more of the red rascals until we rejoin our party.”
“How far do you mean to go before stopping, Dick?”
Roger was getting a little tired when he asked this question. They had both had a hard day of it, beside the standing for several hours in a cramped position tied to the trees.
“I think we ought to keep on for at least an hour more,” Dick told him, “even if it does pull hard. By then we’ll have reached a point where the Indians who turn out to be victors can hardly find us in the morning, even if they happen to bother making the search. So keep up your spirits, Roger, for we’ve got a heap to be thankful for.”
“I’m sure of that, Dick, and I hope you didn’t think I was complaining just now. You’ll find me good for an hour’s tramp in the dark, or two of them, for that matter. Then for a few hours’ sleep before day breaks.”
“It may be the storm will swoop down on us before then, and force us to change our plans. So, after a while, we must keep a lookout for some sort of shelter, such as a hollow tree. It wouldn’t be the first time we have lain in such a snug nook when the rain was coming down in bucketfuls.”
“I should say it wasn’t!” declared Roger, and from that time on he seemed to have picked up a new supply of energy, for he uttered no further complaint as he struggled on at the side of his companion.
No matter how slowly the minutes passed, Roger realized that the conditions were vastly different from what they seemed earlier in the night; when tied to that tree the gloom around him was no thicker than the state of his feelings.
Dick finally came to a halt. Perhaps the hour had not fully passed, but he believed they had put enough ground behind them to feel safe. Besides, he had made a discovery that he fancied ought to be utilized.
Either the night had grown lighter, as though the moon might have arisen, and was shining back of the heavy clouds, or else the eyes of the boys, in growing accustomed to the darkness, allowed them to see things better.
“I’ve noticed several trees of good size as we came along, Roger,” he told his chum; “and if only we can find one that is hollow, we need go no further until morning.”
At that the other laughed as though pleased.
“If that’s all we need, Dick, how would this one over here do for our purposes?” and, speaking in this way, he directed the attention of his chum to a tree not far away.
It was an unusually big tree, and both of them could see, though a bit uncertainly, that it had some sort of cavity at its base. A hasty examination convinced them they had found just what they were looking for.
“We can creep in through that hole easily enough,” said Roger, “because it’s big enough for a giant to pass through. I hope though, Dick, it doesn’t turn out to be the den of any wild beast.”
“We can soon settle that!” declared Dick, as he took up a long stick, over which he had just tripped, and thrust it in through the opening.
As no sound of surly remonstrance followed this action on his part, it became evident that the hollow tree was not occupied by any animal.
“If it is a den there’s nobody at home right now,” announced Roger; “so we can crawl through the doorway and settle down.”
After his customary impetuous fashion he insisted on being the one to lead the way, and was quickly inside the hollow tree.
“How do you find it?” asked Dick, thrusting his head through the opening.
“There seems to be plenty of room for two in here,” was the quick reply; “and, although I don’t just fancy the odor, still I think we could do worse, especially if it comes on to rain hard.”
Upon hearing this Dick hastened to creep through the hole, carrying his gun with him of course. He had something on his mind, apparently, for hardly had he reached the side of the other boy than Dick thrust his gun into Roger’s hands, remarking:
“I noticed an old stump just outside there, and I’d better go and roll it up, so as to cover this opening, more or less.”
“Then you must be thinking that some animal may come in here, and you mean to block the passage so we will not be taken by surprise; is that it?”
“Nothing less, Roger,” Dick replied, as he started to crawl out again.
“If I can help you, let me know,” called out Roger.
The stump did not prove to be very weighty, and Dick rolled it deftly so that it covered all but a small fraction of the opening. Then he crept inside, and the two of them had little trouble in closing most of the remainder of the aperture.
“Well, to tell you the honest truth,” admitted Roger, when this undertaking had been completed, though plenty of air could still find ingress, “I do feel a whole lot better, now that we’ve shut the door. It can’t be very pleasant to lie down to sleep in a hollow tree that may be a panther’s lair, and to wake up to find the savage beast coming in on you.”
Dick was as satisfied as his companion, even if less vociferous about it.
“I guess that stump will make a good enough door,” he went on to say, chuckling, “and if we wake up to hear some one knocking, we can ask who it is before we open up. Just as you say, it makes us feel more secure.”
Satisfied with the way things were going Roger soon settled down to make himself as comfortable as the conditions allowed.
“Perhaps this isn’t as sweet and easy a bed as my own at home,” he remarked, after yawning several times; “but then, as my mother always says, ‘beggars mustn’t be choosers.’ And I can remember many a time when I’ve slept in worse places than a hollow tree.”
“Remember before you go to sleep, Roger, it’s understood that the one who happens to hear anything suspicious is to wake the other up. If you feel me touch you on the arm and hear me whisper, keep as still as a church mouse. It may mean that Indians are outside, and looking for us.”
“I’ll recollect, Dick, you can depend on it; and, if the tables should be turned, so that I am the one to get wind of the danger first, I’ll do the same to you. So now, let’s go to sleep.”
Roger found very little trouble in putting his words into practice, and in a few minutes Dick heard him breathing heavily.
As he felt very much inclined that way himself, Dick made no effort to hold back sleep, and in a short time both lads were fast locked in slumber.
Some time passed, just how long neither of them really knew, when Dick felt a violent tug at his arm. He was wide-awake instantly, and understood just where he was, as well as what the jerk signified.
“What is it?” he whispered, as he felt for his gun the first thing, as though its touch would give him renewed confidence.
“Something or somebody is moving around outside, Dick,” whispered Roger.
“Hist! listen!” remarked Dick, softly.
There was a slight scuffling sound, and the stump at the opening moved violently. Then came the loud sniffing of some animal that was trying to thrust its nose through a very small crevice and, apparently, could not understand why the door was closed.
“It must be a bear,” said Dick, no longer keeping his voice confined to a whisper, but speaking aloud, “and this is his den. He wonders what has happened, and it may be he scents us, for he’s trying to push his way in!”
Roger was considerably relieved when he heard his chum say this with so much confidence. A bear might be troublesome, but it was not to be compared with an Indian, for the latter was likely to have allies close at hand who could be summoned by a signal whoop.
“Do you think the beast can move the stump?” he asked Dick, at the same time feeling for his knife, which the other had turned over to Roger on discovering that it was really his property.
“He is trying hard to do so,” replied Dick.
“Just listen how he keeps on sniffing at that crack,” continued the other boy. “He knows that somebody has taken to his hollow tree, and he doesn’t seem to like it at all. How about giving him a shot, Dick? At such close range you could easily knock him over.”
Dick, however, had his own ideas about that. At least, he did not make any preparations for the shot.
“To tell you the truth, Roger,” he finally explained, “I’d rather not waste my powder and ball on the old fellow. He’d be too tough for us to use as food, and besides, the sound of the report might bring some of the Indians down on us.”
“I suppose you are right, Dick,” commented Roger; “but it looks as if we might have to do something to frighten the bear away. There he starts again, trying to thrust the stump aside, and as sure as anything, Dick, the breach is getting a little wider every time he works at it.”
“It seems so,” agreed Dick, “and, as you say, we ought to do something to put a stop to his scratching and dragging. Wait a minute, I’ve an idea I can fix it!”
With these words he put his long rifle behind him so that it was safe in Roger’s hands. In case of actual necessity the latter would know what to do with the fire-arm; but just then he was very curious to learn what Dick had arranged.
He could hear him moving, and he seemed to lean forward until his hands were perilously near the small opening at which the nose of the bear was working just as the snout of a hog might be used to move an obstacle.
The champing of teeth, along with the loud sniffing, continued.
“What are you doing, Dick?” asked Roger, finally, unable to stand the suspense any longer.
“Oh!” came the cheery reply, “I have wasted a charge or two of powder, placing it as near the opening as I can, and running a thread this way. Now I have my flint and steel ready, and, as soon as he starts to poking his nose in at the hole again, I’ll strike fire, and explode the powder in his face!”
Roger saw the object of this, and was considerably interested in the outcome.
“I hope he gets the full benefit of the flash,” he observed.
Dick saw his chance just then, and he could be heard striking the flint and steel rapidly together after the manner of one whom long experience in this line had made almost perfect.
There came a little shower of descending sparks, and then a sudden brilliant flash that lit up the interior of the hollow tree as though the sun had found a means of ingress.
“Hurrah!” cried Roger, clapping his hands in glee, “that was the time you gave old Eph the scare of his life! Hear him plunging off, will you, Dick? It seems as if he’d lost all desire to make the acquaintance of his new lodgers. And I don’t think we’ll be bothered any more by Mr. Bear, do you?”
Dick also laughed softly as he replied:
“He must have had his nose singed that time, and got a bad fright in the bargain, so I reckon we’ll not be annoyed again.”
“This powder smoke is choking me, Dick.”
“But it’s slowly rising in the tree, and things are getting better right along,” Roger was told. “We’ll wait awhile until the air is purer, and after that we’ll drag the old stump back to where it was before the bear moved it.”
“And then?” queried Roger.
“Go to sleep again, if you feel like it, because we have some hours of the night still ahead of us,” Dick calmly told him.
Before they could settle down they noticed that the wind was soughing through the trees with a louder note than before.
“That storm is coming closer all the while,” remarked Dick, “and we needn’t be surprised to hear thunder at any time now.”
“If it does come,” added Roger, sleepily, “we’ll be glad to have such a fine shelter in the rain. But it may fool us after all, and for one I don’t mean to lie awake waiting for it.”
Dick, too, managed to get to sleep before a great while. Both of them were presently aroused by a loud crash of thunder.
“Why, it did get here after all, Dick!” exclaimed Roger, the first thing.
“Listen and you can hear the rain further along beating down on the forest trees. One good thing about it is that the storm will probably not be a long one.”
Dick’s words were immediately followed by a vivid flash of lightning, and then came another loud detonation that seemed to shake the earth.
In these present days two wide-awake boys who had picked up some knowledge of woodcraft would be very much alarmed to find themselves in a hollow tree during an electrical storm, knowing that there was always a chance of the lightning’s striking such an object and bringing about their destruction.
Dick and Roger were not worried on that point. Perhaps it was because they were accustomed to taking hazards; or it may have sprung from ignorance of the danger.
However, the hollow tree had lost its top long years ago, and was surrounded by loftier trees so the chances of its being struck were not serious.
Then the rain came, and, from the sounds that reached their ears, the boys decided that it was almost a tropical downpour. Roger was on the alert to discover whether their shelter was going to prove its worth, or begin to leak. After some time had passed he voiced his conviction in his usual fashion.
“Not a drop so far, Dick, and I believe we’re going to keep dry jackets through the whole downpour. Why, this is better than being in one of the tents, for they nearly always let a stream of water trickle down your neck when you’re not expecting it. I think we’re mighty lucky to have such good shelter.”
“And I agree with every word you say, Roger,” his companion added.
“How is the night going, do you know?” continued the other.
“I’m sure I can hardly say, Roger. At a guess I might venture to say that we may have something like two hours more of darkness.”
“Then all I hope is the storm will peter out before dawn, so we can start for the river right away. We ought to come upon the expedition by evening, unless we get lost, and that is something not likely to happen to boys like us, who have lived in the woods since they were knee-high to grasshoppers.”
“One thing sure, we have had all the sleep we’re going to get to-night,” Dick remarked.
“It seems to me the rain has slackened some. At least, it doesn’t make such a terrible noise when it strikes the trees. But there was a pretty lively wind blowing, Dick, and I think I heard more than one tree crash down before the gale.”
“Yes,” added the other. “And this old wreck did some groaning, too. Once I was in a sweat thinking it might go toppling over; but the other trees must have protected it some, for it stood through the wild storm.”
When Roger hazarded the opinion that the gale was abating he spoke the truth, for in a short time it became manifest that the thunder came from a more distant point, the lightning was not so brilliant, and the rain itself began to fall more lightly.
In fact, things took on such a different tone that Roger actually settled himself down to try for a little more sleep.
Dick had been too thoroughly aroused to think of doing this. He continued to sit there, keeping a vigil on the crack, through which he knew he would catch the first glimpse of breaking day. He amused himself while sitting thus by letting his thought go back to the happy home far down the “Big Muddy,” where his father and his mother, his little brother Sam, and his grandparents besides, occupied the big cabin in the clearing, close to the one where Roger’s parents lived.
Finally, Dick discovered that it was no longer pitch dark outside. The moon had broken out from the scattering storm clouds, and was giving a fair amount of light.
Dick, always in touch with the positions of the heavenly bodies, knew, after he had located the fragment of a moon, that morning was indeed close at hand. Indeed, he believed that in less than half an hour the dawn would break.
He allowed Roger to sleep until it was broad daylight, and then, acting under the belief that they had better be on their way, he laid a hand on the other’s arm.
“Morning has come, and we ought to be getting out of here,” Dick told his comrade, as he felt the other move under his touch.
“Why, I did go to sleep after all, it seems,” muttered Roger, as though he considered this the queerest thing of all; but Dick only smiled, for he knew of old some of the little weaknesses of his chum.
They succeeded in pushing the old stump away from the opening, leaving a gap big enough for them to crawl through.
“If Mr. Bear ever takes the trouble to come back to his den,” remarked Roger, as he surveyed the big tree with its hollow butt, “he’s welcome to his old quarters. I’d like to tell him that his hole is all right, too, when a fellow is caught in a storm; but we have other fish to fry just now.”
His words reminded him of the fine mess of trout they had caught on the preceding day, just before the trap set by the cunning Indians had been sprung, and shortly afterwards he remarked:
“I do hope our friends found all the strings of trout we left along the bank of that stream; and that there were more than they could use at one time. It would be fine if we got a taste of the same, Dick, after all this fuss.”
“I was just thinking,” remarked practical Dick, who certainly was not bothering his head about trout, or any other kind of food, “that, after all, that storm may have done us one kindness.”
“Tell me how, then?” demanded Roger, who failed to agree with him until he could be shown the facts.
“The rain must have washed all our tracks out, so not even the sharpest-eyed Indian brave could follow our trail,” explained the other, and of course Roger found himself in full accord with the theory advanced, for, like the story of Columbus and the envious Spanish courtiers, things looked very different after the explanation.
With a last backward look toward the friendly old tree that had afforded them shelter in the storm, the two lads tightened their belts and set off on their long tramp, expecting to strike the bank of the Missouri by the time the sun was ready to set.
“There! that makes the fourth tree I’ve seen blown down in the storm,” remarked Roger, after they had been walking through the forest for some time.
“Yes, and in every case if you went to the trouble to examine those trees,” he was told by Dick, “you would find that they were rotten at the heart. They may keep on standing up with the rest, and seem to be perfect, but when the wind sweeps through the forest it searches out the weak and imperfect trees, and topples them over.”
“That must be what grandfather means when he talks about the ‘survival of the fittest,’” Roger mused. “He says that Nature knows what is best for everything, and keeps thinning out the weak ones along every line.”
“Then there must have been a lot of poor trash over yonder,” chuckled Dick, “for I can see a number of trees down.”
“Oh! what was that!” suddenly asked Roger.
“It sounded to me like a groan,” his companion admitted, as both of them stood still in order to listen.
“There it comes again, Dick, and, just as you said, it must be a groan. I wonder if any one could have been caught under a tree when it fell?”
“We must be cautious how we move forward,” as Dick’s advice, “because we know the treacherous nature of these Indians.”
“Do you mean it might turn out to be a trap?” demanded Roger.
“There is always a chance of that, so, while we make our way in that direction, we must be ready to run if we discover any lurking reds about.”
Dick also kept his rifle in readiness in case of a sudden emergency. It might be a shot would check a rush on the part of their enemies, and thus enable the boys to get a fair start.
Guided by the groans, which now came louder and more frequently, they were not long in making a discovery.
“Dick, I see him!” exclaimed Roger, in fresh excitement; “and, sure enough, he is caught in the branches of that big tree over there. It isn’t a trap after all, but some one in trouble.”
“And an Indian at that, Roger,” added the other, as he, too, managed to catch a glimpse of the unfortunate one.
“Will that make any difference; or do you think he may be just shamming?” asked Roger, hesitating.
“There is no mistake about his being in a bad fix,” ventured Dick. “He may not be terribly hurt, but the tree has pinned him down, you can see; and if we left the poor fellow there he would either starve to death or else be devoured by the wild beasts.”
“Oh! we never could have the heart to do that,” asserted Roger, who possessed a generous nature, like all his headstrong class.
They pushed forward, and were soon at the fallen tree. The Indian must have discovered their presence, for he had ceased groaning, as though too proud to show any sign of cowardice. A brave would sooner have his hand cut off than be reckoned timid or weak.
“How are we going to get him out of that trap?” Roger remarked, after they had looked the situation over. “We have no hatchet for cutting the limb, and my knife would never do the job in a day.”
“He’s held down as if in a vise,” Dick observed thoughtfully, “and I can see only one way of getting him loose. Let me have your knife and I’ll hack my way in close to him. There seems to be just one avenue open for that.”
Roger, filled with curiosity, watched his cousin set to work. He could readily understand how the other intended to reach the side of the imprisoned brave, but just what means he expected to use in order to free the warrior Roger was unable to guess.
A short time afterwards Dick had gained the side of the brave, to whom he spoke a few words; and, doubtful whether he was understood, these were supplemented by various reassuring gestures.
Then, to the astonishment of Roger, Dick started to dig furiously in the ground. At first his intentions were a mystery to Roger, who wrinkled his brow as he looked on. All at once, however, he grasped the idea.
“Now I can see what you’re up to, Dick,” he called out; “and I must say it looks like a winning scheme. All you have to do is to dig under the brave, and let him sink down a little. Then, when the pressure of those limbs grows less, he can either squirm out himself, or be dragged forth.”
That, in fact, was the idea Dick had conceived in his fertile brain. He continued to delve away with a steady purpose in view, and presently it could be seen that he was making an impression on the earth. The trapped Indian brave began to sink downward by slow degrees until finally the pressure had relaxed to such an extent that by making a great effort, and assisted by Dick, he managed to wriggle out from under the limbs of the fallen tree.
He had been hurt in various places, though Dick did not believe any of his wounds were really serious. Accustomed, as they were, to treating injuries, it was only natural for the boys to make up their minds that they would do something for the poor fellow.
When Dick made motions to this effect, the Indian allowed them to do what they willed, although he watched every movement with eyes that were filled with curiosity.
“I wonder whether he’s more surprised at seeing us have this soothing ointment mother made along with us, or that ‘palefaces’ should go to such trouble just for an Indian?” Roger remarked, as he assisted in the work. (Note 6.)
“It doesn’t matter much which affects him most,” said Dick, calmly, “we are doing just what our parents have taught us to do. Besides, how can we tell whether this brave is an enemy or a friend?”
“They say an Indian never forgets an injury, or an act of kindness,” ventured Roger; “and, if that is true, we can count on one friend among the Dacotahs, for I’m sure he belongs to that tribe.”
“Yes, he is a Dacotah, but they all look alike to me, so I couldn’t say whether he was among those who captured us or not. He seems to be listening to what we are saying, and I really believe he half understands our talk. Perhaps he knows a little English, for there have been white trappers who have penetrated this far.”
“Suppose you try him, and see if he can understand, Dick?”
“I mean to do that,” was the reply, “because I’d like to put a spoke in the wheel of that revengeful Andrew Waller. He has told these foolish Indians we are the sons of the Great White Father at Washington, and that if we were held as prisoners a mighty ransom would be paid for our release. We must convince the reds that it is false, and that we are only ordinary white boys.”
This idea held some weight with Dick, and after completing his work in connection with the brave’s wounds he commenced the attempt to talk with him.
At first it looked as though there would be little chance of success; but after a little he succeeded in getting the painted brave to understand what he was trying to explain. This was done by means of single words, accompanied by much gesturing and pointing.
If the Indian had not already known about the boys, and what was said about their being the sons of the White Father he could never have understood matters at all. Gradually Dick began to believe he was hammering the facts into the head of the other. He saw a light as of comprehension dawning on his painted face.
“I do believe you’ve managed to pound it into his brain, Dick,” said Roger, who had been an earnest witness of all this. “He looks as if he knew what you wanted him to do. See, he even nods his head when you speak.”
Dick felt that he had reason to be proud of what he had done. To get an Indian, who could not talk English, beyond a few words, to understand that they were only ordinary, every-day boys instead of the important personages Andrew Waller had pictured, was a triumph indeed.
“I am asking him to pass the news along, and spread it far and wide,” explained Dick, as he continued his gestures and forceful words; “and I think he knows. Here, let me do a little picture writing for him; perhaps that may help.”
He picked up a piece of smooth bark, and, using the point of Roger’s hunting knife, managed to scratch several crude designs upon it. Two of these represented the rising and the setting sun. Then a figure with a Dacotah head-dress stood half way between with arms outstretched.
Showing this to the brave, Dick once more began to speak and make gestures. While he could not of course be certain, still he had every reason to believe that the other understood what he was driving at, for he nodded, touched each of the boys on the chest, then shook his head in the negative, and said something in the Dacotah tongue which Dick fancied meant White Father.
“That’s the best I can do with him, Roger; and now we must be on our way again. Whether it works or not, at least we can feel that we have done the right thing.”
They parted from the Dacotah brave with what was doubtless intended to be grateful gestures on his part.
“He seems to understand that we have played the part of friends,” said Roger, “and I think if the chance ever comes up he will stand by us.”
“I am of the same opinion,” declared Dick, “though for that matter I hope we may never need his help. After all, we did not lose much time, and it was worth while to save a life.”
They pushed on diligently for a long time. Dick was not in doubt as to his course, for he had taken particular pains to notice as they came along on the preceding day, in the company of the Indians.
When Roger happened to ask once if he were quite sure the river lay directly ahead of them, Dick answered confidently.
“Unless it makes a great sweep to the north somewhere above us we will run upon the river by nightfall, take my word for it;” and Roger, accustomed to depending fully on his comrade, never doubted after that moment.
Something else was soon upon his mind, however, and he voiced his thoughts by appealing to Dick.
“Do you think it would be dangerous if you shot your gun off just once, in case we sighted some game? I feel very hungry, for that supper the Indians gave us didn’t seem to do me much good. And breakfast is one of my best meals, you know.”
Dick laughed at seeing the appealing look on his chum’s face.
“I don’t think the danger of the shot’s being heard is one-half as great as you think you are of starving to death,” he told Roger.
“Then you agree, do you?” demanded the other, eagerly. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for sight of a deer, and I do hope it isn’t going to be long before we get a chance at one.”
As luck would have it, before another ten minutes had passed the opportunity he was hoping for came their way. Dick was ready, and with the report of his gun a yearling doe fell in a heap, just when in the act of plunging into the dense thicket.
Of course Roger would not think of any delay in getting a fire going and some of the tender meat broiling before the flames. While he looked after the fire Dick cut up the game, and it was not long before an appetizing odor began to make both boys wishful for the feast to begin.
“We can make up for this stop,” said Roger as he sat there devouring piece after piece of the half-cooked venison, “by not halting at noon for a rest. Then again, we can hurry our steps at times and so get along faster.”
“No trouble about that,” Dick assured him, “for I figure that we have plenty of time to get there by dark. You remember that we were only on the move some six hours yesterday, and we have the whole of to-day for tramping.”
“Do you know, Dick, this reminds me of how we chased after the expedition for weeks and weeks when determined to find Jasper Williams, and get that paper signed for our parents. Hundreds of miles we followed the trail as it ascended the Missouri River, until at last we overtook them.”[4]
“What we did once we can do again, this time on a small scale,” Dick assured him. “I was just watching those crows over there in that tree-top. They seem to be holding a regular caucus, and keep on scolding like everything.”
“Yes,” added the other boy, “and sometimes crows turn out to be a pest in lots of ways besides eating the settler’s corn. Old hunters have told me they hide from crows whenever they find themselves in hostile territory, because through their cawing the birds tell the Indians strangers are in the woods.”
“There, the whole lot has flown away, and making all sorts of noises in the bargain,” Dick went on to say. “I don’t like crows myself any too much. They are too noisy, and seem to think every one is trying to creep up on them for a shot.”
“When we do strike the river, Dick, can we easily tell whether the expedition has passed or not?”
“All we have to do is to examine the ground, for their horses would leave a plain trail, you know, Roger.”
“And if, after searching, we do not find any sign, we will know they haven’t come along yet. In that case all we have to do will be to sit down, and take things easy until they show up.”
Roger seemed to have left most of his troubles behind, after making a good breakfast on the deer meat. With the intention of chiding him for displaying any eagerness for food when there was none to be had, Dick took up the subject again as they trudged manfully onward.
“It’s very plain to be seen that you’d never make a good Indian brave, Roger,” was what he told the other, and this excited the boy’s curiosity just as Dick knew would be the case.
“Tell me why,” he demanded. “I always thought I could stand pain without flinching as well as any Indian boy; and I’ve learned a lot about wild life in the bargain. Where do I fall short, Dick?”
“It’s just this way,” his cousin told him. “An Indian boy is taught never to display his feelings, no matter what he suffers inwardly. If he were struck by a poisonous rattlesnake, and could feel his body swelling, not a whimper would come from his lips.”
“Well, what has that to do with me, Dick? So far I have never been attacked by a rattlesnake, though I’ve killed plenty of the ugly varmints, I wager.”
“But you did put on a long face, and you complained because for once you missed your breakfast. Now, an Indian boy would never have said a word, but held in grimly to the end. Not that I blame you, remember, for I was hungry myself, and ready to use my gun, even before you mentioned it.”
They both laughed at that.
“We were born ‘paleface’ boys,” said Roger, “and it’s hard for the leopard to change its spots, they say. When we’re hungry we know it, yes, and we don’t mind letting other people know it, too, if that will help things along.”
Noon came and went.
They kept persistently moving forward. Occasionally they came to open places in the forest where the grass grew green, and often did they glimpse deer feeding in these glades. Once they even saw a small herd of buffaloes trooping off, having apparently winded the boys.
But Dick made no motion to use his gun again. They had all the fresh meat they required, and powder and balls were too precious to be needlessly wasted. So the afternoon came and found them keeping up that determined pace. If either of them felt tired they failed to mention the fact, which in itself was pretty positive evidence that they possessed many of the best traits of the Indian character, after all.
From long habit they were accustomed to such exercise as this, and would not have complained had the tramp kept up far into the coming night.
It was about the middle of the afternoon when Roger gave a low exclamation of delight.
“I can see the river ahead of us, Dick!” he cried, with a vein of deep satisfaction in his voice.
“Yes, I have been waiting to hear you say that, Roger, for I glimpsed it five minutes back. So you see after all we have made good time. We shall be there long before sunset.”
“I must say I am glad to know it,” Roger admitted; and then hastily added: “Not that I doubted your word a bit, but then, ‘seeing is believing,’ you know, Dick.”
“Yes, and, confident as I was myself, I am relieved to see the river glimmering in the sunlight before us,” Dick frankly admitted.
“It can hardly be more than two miles or so away from here, wouldn’t you say?” questioned Roger, always ready to have any assertion he might make backed up by the word of his chum, in whom he had such positive faith.
“About that,” the other told him, as they once more started ahead.
When finally they stood on the high bank of the river, no longer the mighty stream they knew it down near their home, and looked at the opposite shore, the sun was still more than an hour high.
“Now to find out if they have passed by, and whether we will have to keep on up the river,” said Dick, as he began to look about him.
A brief search convinced them that no horses had passed that point. They saw the marks of deer, and buffaloes, as well as some very large imprints made by cloven hoofs, that startled the boys, for they did not know what sort of strange animal had made them; but it was sure that horses had not been present.
“That settles it then,” said Roger, with a sigh of relief, for he would much rather just sit there and wait for the expedition to come along, than be compelled to follow for miles after it.
“We will make camp here to-night if they fail to show up,” asserted Dick, which piece of information pleased Roger, his pleasure showing in the broad smile of contentment that broke over his face.
With plenty of good venison to last them through many days, what need had they to worry? They knew the exploring party bound for the other side of the mountains was sure to come along, sooner or later; when they could once more join their good friends, and take their accustomed places as though nothing unusual had happened.
Dick selected a certain spot on which to settle and wait for the exploring party. In doing this he had in mind the fact that it afforded them a clear view down the river. A bend lay just a quarter of a mile below their position, around which they could expect the boats to appear, sooner or later.
Lying at their ease the boys talked of many things as they awaited the coming of the expedition. Their recent experience of course came in for a good share of attention, for it still thrilled them to compare notes of the night attack, when those hideous whoops were ringing in their ears, together with the heavy percussion of blows as the fierce Shoshones invaded the camp of the Dacotahs and struggled hand-to-hand for the supremacy.
The sun was sinking lower and lower, so that it really began to look as though, after all, the boys would have to make camp where they were. Apparently the expedition had spent some little time looking for the lost ones, and Dick had struck the river further up than they had as yet penetrated.
Suddenly Roger discovered a moving object down the river. Then, around the bend, a boat came in sight, in which they could see white men, some of them soldiers.
At the same time voices from the shore reached their ears, and they caught fugitive glimpses of moving figures advancing along a buffalo trail close to the edge of the bank. These latter they realized must be the party mounted on the horses, and who always kept near the boats for mutual protection and company.
“That settles it then, Dick. We will not have to camp by ourselves to-night; and, after all, I’m glad of it. Not that I don’t enjoy being off with you alone, but up here, so far away from the settlements, it makes me feel better to know I am in company with some dozens of other whites.”
“I think there’s still another reason why you are glad they are coming,” ventured Dick, shrewdly; “you keep on hoping they may not have devoured all of those fine trout we caught yesterday, and that you can still have a chance to taste some of them.”
Roger would neither admit nor deny the accusation, but only laughed and prepared to wave his cap toward the men in the leading boat a minute later.
It could be seen that quite some excitement followed the discovery that the two missing boys were above, waiting for the boats to arrive. Voices were heard conveying the intelligence to the other boats, and loud shouts attested to the fact that the men rejoiced over the safe return of the lost ones.
The spot offered very good accommodations for stopping over night, and so, upon arriving opposite the lads, the boats made for the shore. Dick and Roger soon found themselves being heartily greeted by all their good friends. Most of the men had really given them up for lost when they learned the fact that they had been carried off by the Dacotahs, after being so treacherously led into a trap by the seemingly friendly brave who had loitered so long about the camp.
The two captains were among the first to shake the hands of the pioneer boys, and assure them of their deep satisfaction at seeing them again. Of course every one was anxious to know what had happened to them, and the boys were compelled to tell their story again and again as the tents were being pitched and preparations made for the night camp.
It was admitted by all that they had been exceedingly lucky. At the same time, every one knew that the boys deserved great credit for their clever escape from the hands of the Dacotahs. Dick had planned it all very cleverly so as to make their escape possible even though there had been no midnight attack on the part of the Shoshones, though, of course, they might have been followed and had further trouble.
As darkness set in, the bustling scene gave the two lads much pleasure and contentment. They could not but compare this night with the one that had gone just before, when they had sat in the midst of their dusky captors, not knowing what lay in store for them in the near future.
No sooner was supper set before them than Roger turned a beaming face toward Dick, as he voiced his feelings of delight.
“You see, they didn’t make way with those fish after all, Dick, because they were not found until late in the evening. So they just cleaned and salted them down, and we’re to have the greatest treat you ever tasted to-night. It sometimes pays to wait patiently for things to come along,” and, seeing Dick smiling, he winked knowingly, after which he bustled off to watch the process by means of which the fish were to be prepared for the coming meal.