The lovelight shone in the eyes of
Lieutenant Russell, as he looked down at the slight
figure beside him. He tenderly passed his arm
around the girl and touched his lips to her forehead.
“It was not that I doubted you,
Nellie,” he said, “but that Vose might
know the full truth.”
Then turning to the guide, he asked:
“Do you still advise her to leave me?”
Vose Adams was unaccustomed to scenes
like this. He moved about uneasily, coughed,
cleared his throat, and for a few minutes was at a
loss for words.
“I don’t know what to
advise,” he finally said; “but don’t
you think, if she could go to the captain and let
him see how she feels, he will give in? How would
it do for both of you to walk back with your arms
round each other’s neck and sayin’ sweet
words wouldn’t that fetch him?
Hanged, if I know what to tell you!” he exclaimed
desperately, observing the smiles on their faces.
“I am afraid your plan wouldn’t
work,” said the lieutenant, “but you have
proved yourself the very friend we need.”
These words were a hint of the scheme
that had come into the brain of the young officer.
Had he made a prisoner of Vose Adams, as he thought
for a minute of doing, the guide would really be more
dangerous, since there was no way of guarding against
his treachery, but if he could be turned into a friend,
it would be almost equivalent to saving the fugitives.
It was that for which the young man planned, but he
felt that the real work must be done by Nellie.
He could not win the good will of Vose, but she could,
for who was able to resist her appeals?
It was a proof of the brightness of
the girl that she caught the purpose of her escort
the moment his last words were uttered, and she performed
her part with a cleverness that could not have been
surpassed.
Tears were in the eyes of the emotional
Nellie, but she stepped across the brief intervening
space and laid her hand on the arm of Adams.
“How glad I am, Vose, that you
will help us, for you have told enough to show that
it will not do for us to meet father for some time
to come; we are now in your hands.”
“Blamed if I won’t do
anything I can! But what can I do?
’Spose I sneak back, shoot the captain and then
plug Ruggles and the parson? Will that suit you?”
“Gracious; I should rather you
would kill me than harm a hair of father’s head.”
“Wal, ’spose I shoot you
and the leftenant and the captain and the rest?
No; that won’t do; how the mischief shall I fix
things?”
The cooler headed Russell saw that
the problem had been solved; Nellie Dawson had won
over Vose Adams, as may be said, by the turn of her
finger. He was eager to do all he could to help
them, but in the flurry of the moment could not reason
with his usual acumen.
“We don’t want any shooting,
Vose; I am sure that if we can reach Sacramento without
meeting the captain, his anger will pass away.
In Sacramento, I shall be able to arrange a meeting
between him and his daughter, and his love for her
will break down the barriers and do the rest.”
“I’m in too deep water
when you get to figgerin’ that way, but there
seems to be reason in what you say, but what about
Ruggles and the parson?”
“We’ll leave them out;
they are in this as the friends of Captain Dawson,
and will not dare go contrary to his wishes, but if
they do, it can make no difference to my plan.”
“They’re just as savage
as the captain,” said Vose significantly; “and
it won’t do to forget ’em; but what did
you expect to do, when you left the kenyon? If
you come back, you would have been sartin to meet
us, and what then?”
“My intention was not to return,
but to keep away from the main trail and hunt a shorter
road through the mountains to Sacramento.”
Vose Adams gave a low whistle of astonishment.
“That’s the worst I ever heard!”
“And why?”
“You’re not follerin’
any trail at all; you would be sartin to get lost
and would never find your way through the mountains;
anyhow it would take you three or four years, which
I ca’clate is longer than you want to wait.”
“How can you be so positive?”
“It’s true I never went
to Sacramento and back, except by follerin’
for most of the way the trail that I know so well,
but other folks as smart as you have been lost in
the mountains and you couldn’t help it.”
“You advise against it then?”
“I’m so sure of your goin’
wrong that I won’t try to help you unless you
give up the idée.”
“Then I hereby give it up.”
Since Vose Adams had committed himself
to Russell and Nellie’s interests, there was
no more talking at cross purposes. The object
of the three was the same, and they sat down on the
rocks for consultation. There was abundance of
time in which to do this, since those whom they feared
would not leave the canyon until the return of their
guide, and he did not mean to go back until the day
was so far spent that further delay was unavoidable.
“They will be mad when they
see me,” he said with a grin, “but it
won’t do them any good and I’ll fix up
a yarn about gettin’ on and then off your trail
agin, that they’ll have to be satisfied with.”
“That will serve for to-night,
but you will all be astir at an early hour to-morrow
morning.”
“They will still have to depend
on me to guide ’em, and I rather think I can
steer ’em off the track, so as to give you plenty
of time to get out of the way.”
“How?”
“As soon as they leave the kenyon,
that is as soon as the way is clear, you must ride
back to it and put on all steam for Sacramento, for
I understand, leftenant, that you’ve give up
your idée of finding a new route through the
mountains.”
“I have.”
“You’ve got two good animals and you’ll
gain a full day’s start.”
“You forget about poor Cap,” said Nellie.
“So I did! if he can’t
go with you, you’ll have to leave him behind
and ride double, but it will be rather tough on your
horse, leftenant.”
“Nellie doesn’t weigh
enough to make any difference, and I expect to walk
most of the distance.”
An unexpected piece of good fortune
raised the spirits of the three. To the amazement
of all, Cap, the pony, was seen hunting for grass and
bearing upon the lame foot with little inconvenience.
That which was thought to be a bad sprain was only
a wrench, from which he promised speedily to recover.
“He’ll be as well as ever
by to-morrow mornin’,” said Vose Adams;
“you’ll need to humor him at first, but
not for long.”
As has been intimated, the guide remained
with them through most of the afternoon, for, if he
had gone back to his friends earlier than he did,
he would not have dared to offer any excuse for not
leading them in the pursuit, and he meant to avert
all possibility of that. The reader understands
by this time why the guide formulated such an astounding
fiction when attempting to explain the cause of his
delay. Had his listeners been in cooler mood,
they might have tangled him up with a few questions,
but their exasperation and disgust prevented.
Before parting with the fugitives,
Vose assured them that he was confident their plans
could not fail.
“All they’ve got to do,”
he reflected, “is to do nothing afore to-morrow
and then when the road is open, strike out over the
main trail as hard as they can travel. I hope
none of them Injins that we had the row with will
be pokin’ ’round to-night, for if there’s
to be any trouble, it’ll come from them.”
It will be recalled that the story
of Adams was received with such coolness that he indignantly
resigned and told the captain to run matters himself.
“And he’ll make purty
work of it,” chortled Vose “he won’t
be able to come within miles of where they are hidin’.”
When the moody silence had lasted
for some time, the guide was moved to remark in a
more conciliatory spirit:
“There’s one thing that
mustn’t be forgot: Colonel Briggs and his
folks won’t make any trouble, but we’re
not done with them Injins.”
“Isn’t there likelihood
that Colonel Briggs will divert them?” asked
the parson.
“No; for the redskins can’t
be fooled; they’ll know it wasn’t any of
the colonel’s folks that give their chief his
walkin’ papers, but us, and they’re the
sort of people that don’t forget a thing of that
kind.”
“I was thinking of hunting up
enough wood to start a fire,” said the captain;
“but we don’t need it, and I suppose it
will be safer without it.”
“It seems to me,” observed
Ruggles, “that what we’ve got the most
to fear is that the Injins will run off with our animals:
we would be left in a bad fix.”
“We must look out for that;
I’ll stand guard the first part of the night.”
Each was ready to take his turn, and
it was arranged that Captain Dawson should act as
sentinel until midnight, when he would awake Vose
Adams, who would assume the duty till morning.
Soon afterward, the three wrapped themselves in their
blankets and stretched out on the ground, near the
boulders, where they speedily sank into deep slumber.
It seemed to Adams that he had slept
less than an hour, when the captain touched him.
Rising immediately to a sitting position, he asked:
“Is it midnight?”
“It’s a half hour past.”
“Why didn’t you awake me afore? Have
you seen anything wrong?”
“I am not sure; my doubt made
me hold on a little longer, but I learned nothing
of account.”
“What was it anyway?”
“It is only that the animals
appear to be uneasy, but it may mean nothing, or it
may mean a good deal.”
“It’s more’n likely it means something.
Where are they?”
“Lying down off there to the right, almost near
enough to be seen.”
“They can’t be too close; wal, you can
sleep and I’ll take my turn.”
Thus warned by Captain Dawson, Vose
Adams assumed the duties of sentinel with his senses
on the alert. He had become so accustomed to
the delicate duty, when aware that the slightest slip
on his part meant death, that he was better fitted
for the task than any member of the party, though
the experience of Ruggles and the captain in the army
had given them the ability to awake at any moment fixed
upon before sinking into slumber, and they were sensitive
to the least disturbance while enjoying refreshing
rest.
Adams believed what he had remarked
more than once that the little company of mountain
Indians would do their utmost to revenge themselves
upon the men who had taken off their chief. He
suspected that the five were prowling in the neighborhood,
looking for some such opportunity, and that they would
strike a blow before the rising of the morrow’s
sun.
Nothing was to be hoped for in the
way of a diversion, created by the intrusion of Colonel
Briggs and his vagrant miners. Not that the Indians
were not eager to strike at any members of the hated
race, but the all-controlling motive was lacking in
the case of the larger party.
Although the moon was in the sky,
only a small part of its light penetrated the canyon.
Peering into the darkness, Vose dimly made out the
forms of the four animals, who, having ceased their
cropping of the grass, had lain down for the remainder
of the night. They were so near that they could
not be stampeded or stolen without the effort being
known to the sentinel.
It would have been the height of rashness
to start a camp fire, for all the figures within its
circle of illumination must have formed the best of
targets for their stealthy foes. As it was, an
enemy would have to steal from the gloom and approach
near enough to touch them, before striking a blow
or firing a shot.
Vose Adams, with his Winchester in
his right hand and held close to his side, took his
seat on the ground, resting his back against the nearest
boulder. As a rule, a sentinel can keep awake
for an extended time only by motion and exercise,
such as walking to and fro, but the trained hunter
often takes the risk and there is little danger of
his succumbing, especially after he has just finished
a nap, as was the case with the guide.
Thus seated, with the boulder rising
several feet above his head, Adams’s only reliance
was upon his keenness of hearing and sight.
He had not waited long when he saw
proof of what the captain had told him: the animals
were restless, or rather one of them was. The
quadruped thus affected was Hercules, his own mule,
who, although lying down, twice rose to his feet,
shifted his position and lay down again. Then
he sniffed as if the air contained an odor that was
displeasing to him.
“I wouldn’t think much
of it, if it was one of the horses,” reflected
his master, “but Hercules has brains; he knows
more’n all the others together, and yet it may
be it ain’t that after all.”
One of the singular facts regarding
cattle and other quadrupeds is that they are sometimes
troubled with disquieting dreams, the same as ourselves.
This trifling cause has resulted many a time in the
stampeding of a drove numbering tens of thousands.
“I’ve knowed Hercules
to kick and snort in his sleep, and one time he come
mighty near breakin’ a leg of mine; howsumever,
I don’t think that’s the trouble with
him to-night. I ’spect it’s Injins
this time!”
When Captain Dawson lay down to sleep
and Vose Adams assumed his place as sentinel, the
moon was near the zenith, but the contour of the canyon
shut out its beams. While Vose was striving to
pierce the gloom, over and about the four animals,
he noted a flickering tremor against the vast wall
which formed the other side of the canyon. A faint,
fleecy veil of moonlight having been lifted over the
mountain crests, was now flung downward and caught
against and suspended upon the projecting rocks and
crags. It was but a frosty shimmer, but the veil
dangled lower and lower, pendant here and there until
the fringe rested on the bottom of the gorge.
The sleeping miners and horses were
wrapped in deep shadow, but the tremulous, almost
invisible veil still fluttered on the further side
of the canyon. By and by, the shifting moon would
whisk it up again and all would be gloom as before.
The sentinel lay flat on his face
and peered over the prone animals toward the faint
light across the canyon, and, looking thus, he saw
the outlines of a man moving among the horses and
mule. A shadow could not have been more noiseless.
Not the faintest rustle betrayed his footsteps.
“Just what I expected,”
thought Vose; “I’ll wager Hercules against
a dozen of the best horses in Sacramento that that
shadder is one of them five Injins we seen stealin’
along the ledge this mornin’. All the same,
I can’t imagine what the mischief he is driving
at.”
The guide’s first impulse was
to bring his rifle to his shoulder and let fly.
The intruder was so near that it was impossible to
miss him, but two causes operated to prevent this
summary course: Vose wished first to learn the
business of the intruder, and there was a single possibility
in a hundred that he was neither an Indian nor an enemy.
The latter doubt could be solved by
challenging the prowler with a threat to fire, if
instant satisfaction was refused, while the firing
could be made so promptly that the stranger would have
no chance of whisking out of reach. Vose decided
to wait until he got some idea of the other’s
business.
He could still dimly discern the form,
but it was so obscure that had it not been moving
about, he would not have been able to distinguish
it or make sure it was within his field of vision.
While studying the phantom, the lower
part of the veil of moonlight on the other side of
the canyon was twitched up for a hundred feet.
Lingering thus a minute, it was twitched still higher;
then a third flirt snatched it out of the gorge.
The shifting of the moon had left the canyon shrouded
in darkness as before.
Nothing could have attested more strikingly
the marvelous stealth of the intruder than the fact
that not one of the horses was awakened by him.
The approach of the great Geronimo and several of his
Apaches was betrayed under somewhat similar circumstances
by the neighing of a horse that they awakened, apparently
when making no noise at all.
This prowler was a shadow in a world
of shadows. If Hercules detected his presence,
the man succeeded in soothing the fear of the hybrid.
“Halt or I’ll fire!”
Vose Adams’s voice was low,
but in the tomb-like stillness a thunderclap could
not have been more distinct. The hail, however,
produced no response. The angered Vose drew his
Winchester to a level, with his finger on the trigger,
but when he ran his eye along the barrel, he failed
to perceive any target. He lowered the muzzle
a few inches and peered over the top. Nothing
was discernible.
“You’re there somewhere and I’ll
find you!”
Instead of rising erect, the sentinel
advanced in a crouching posture, so that his head
was no higher than if he were on his hands and knees.
This clever strategy was thrown away.
Within five seconds, he was at the side of Hercules,
prepared and expecting to grapple with his enemy,
who, to his exasperation, continued invisible.
Vose did not require to have the matter explained
to him, for he understood it. Upon being hailed,
the intruder instead of throwing up his hands or starting
to run, had also assumed a stooping position.
It was as if he had quietly sunk below the surface
of a sea of darkness through which he was wading,
and swum with noiseless celerity to a point beyond
reach.
Vose was angered but took his defeat philosophically.
“You was too smart for me that
time; I never had it played finer on me, but I guess
it’s just as well; you’ve learned that
we’re on the lookout and you can’t sneak
into camp without some risk of having a hole
bored inter you.”
But Vose was not yet through with
his nocturnal experiences. He held his seat for
some fifteen or twenty minutes without seeing or hearing
anything to cause the slightest misgiving. The
horses still slept, and even the uneasy Hercules appeared
to have become composed and to have made up his mind
to slumber until morning.
“I don’t b’leve
there’ll be anything more to disturb me, onless
some wild animal wants his supper ”
The thought had hardly taken shape,
when a shiver of affright ran through him, though
the cause was so slight that it might have brought
a smile, being nothing more than a pebble rolling down
the ravine, up which the fugitives had passed the
day before. The stone came slowly, loosening
several similar obstructions, which joined with it,
the rustling increasing and continuing until all reached
the bottom and lay at rest a few feet from where he
sat.
Nothing could have been easier than
for this to occur in the natural course of things,
since hundreds of such instances were taking place
at every hour of the day and night, but in the tense
state of the sentinel’s nerves, he was inclined
to attribute it either to the Indian that had just
visited camp and slunk away, or to one of his comrades
trying to steal a march upon him.
“I ’spose the next thing
will be for him to climb over this boulder behind
me and drop onto my head. Howsumever, if he does,
he’ll find me awake.”
Vose sat thus, depending almost wholly
upon his sense of hearing to apprise him of the stealthy
approach of an enemy, while the long silent hours
gradually passed, without bringing additional cause
for alarm.