Kitabı oku: «Frank on the Prairie», sayfa 7
CHAPTER XII
A Night among the Wolves
IT would be impossible to describe Frank’s feelings, as he stood there, holding his panting, reeking horse, and listening to that rumbling sound, which grew fainter and fainter, as the buffaloes dashed on their way. Now that the danger of being trampled to death was passed, he did not stop to think of what was still before him. He cared not that he was forty miles from the old bear’s hole, and that, in three hours, the sun would be down, and he compelled to pass the night alone on the prairie. All thoughts of what he knew he must endure before he reached the camp were swallowed up in thankfulness that he had been able to bring himself safely out of the most dangerous position in which he had ever been placed.
In a few moments the last of the buffaloes had passed out of hearing, and Frank then turned his attention to his horse.
Pete looked very unlike the sleek, spirited animal of which he had been so proud. He was reeking with sweat, panting loudly, and was evidently very nearly exhausted. Had he been obliged to carry his rider a few miles further, Frank might have been compelled to find his way back to camp on foot. Pete was also very much in need of water; and now that the danger was over, Frank found that he, too, was very thirsty. During his excitement and alarm he had not thought of it; but now that he was able to think calmly, he decided that his first care should be to find a stream of water, where he might quench his thirst.
After reloading his rifle and revolvers, he again took Pete by the bridle and led him in the direction of the mountains, which, as near as he could judge, were twenty miles distant. Although he was most anxious to reach them before night, in hopes that he might find the trapper, (for he knew that Dick would not rest easy until he had found him,) he could not bear the thought of riding his horse while he was in such distress.
At length he reached the top of a swell, when he paused to look about him. On his right hand, about a mile distant, as he judged, he saw a long line of willows, which (so the trappers had told him) were a sure sign of water. Toward the willows, then, he directed his course, in hopes that his horse, when he had quenched his thirst and eaten a few mouthfuls of grass, would be in a condition to travel. But he soon found that it was more than a mile to the willows – it was five times that distance – and it was about an hour before sunset when Frank reached the stream, and, kneeling down on the bank, took a long, refreshing drink. Here he had a most lively battle with Pete. The horse was stubborn, and when he had determined upon a course, it required considerable persuasion to induce him to abandon it. He wanted to drink his fill of the water at once, to which Frank objected; and it was not until Pete had received several severe blows from a branch that his master cut from one of the willows, that he allowed himself to be led out of the stream. Frank then tied him to a tree, removed the saddle, and threw himself on the ground to determine upon his future movements. He was tired and hungry; he did not like the idea of camping on the prairie alone, but he could see no way to avoid it. Then he thought of the trapper, and walked out on the prairie to look for him. But Dick was nowhere to be seen. Had Frank remained where he had escaped from the buffaloes, he would then have been in the company of his friend, for the trapper was at that moment standing on the top of the very swell, where Frank had stood when he first discovered the willows. Useless sat by his side, looking up into his master’s face, and whining as if he, too, wondered what had become of the object of their search. Seeing no signs of Frank, Dick concluded that he was still among the buffaloes, so he kept on after them, now and then shaking his head and muttering – “The keerless feller. It beats all natur’ how that hoss of his’n traveled.” But Frank did not know that Dick was so near him, and, after waiting nearly an hour for him to make his appearance, he returned to the willows, and sat about making his preparations for the night. He first selected a suitable spot for a camp, and, after gathering a few dry branches and lighting a fire with a flint and steel he found in Archie’s haversack, he took his rifle and walked along the bank of the creek to find something for his supper. He generally took great pleasure in a hunt, but there was no sport in this one, for he could not help thinking of his recent adventure with the grizzly. What if he should meet one of those animals? He could not hope for assistance from the trapper. He had no one to depend upon but himself. He had always had great confidence in his skill as a marksman, but he had never wished for an opportunity to try it on a grizzly bear. If there were any of those animals among the willows, he did not encounter them, and, in fact, the woods did not appear to abound in game of any kind. The only living thing he discovered was a raccoon crossing the creek on a log just ahead of him.
Frank, knowing that he was working for his supper, made a good shot, and when he shouldered the ’coon and started for his camp, he felt relieved to know that he was not compelled to pass the night hungry. He had often heard that the flesh of the ’coon was excellent, and he found it was so; whether it was because he was hungry, or because the meat was really good, he could not decide; but at any rate, he ate nearly half the ’coon, and hung the remainder upon a limb to save it for his breakfast. Then, after gathering a supply of firewood, sufficient to last all night, he again walked out on the prairie to look for the trapper. But he was not in sight; and when it began to grow dark, Frank returned to his camp, feeling rather lonesome. After he had hobbled Pete, (which he did by tying one end of his halter around his neck, and the other to one of his fore legs,) and turned him loose to graze, he seated himself by the fire, and heartily wished it was morning.
There was nothing pleasant in the thought that he was obliged to pass the night alone. He had often camped out, but he was not accustomed to living in such a wilderness. Had Dick been with him, he would have slept as soundly as he ever did at home; but, as it was, there was no probability of his enjoying a good night’s rest. It grew dark rapidly, and the prairie, so deserted and still in the day-time, now seemed to be crowded with wolves. He had heard them every night since he had been on the plains, but he had never listened to such a chorus as saluted his ears that evening. The fact was, they had been attracted by a buffalo that lay but a short distance from Frank’s camp. It had been wounded by the hunters in the morning, and, becoming separated from the herd, had come to the creek for water, and died. Frank knew that the wolves had found something, for he could hear them growling and fighting over their meal. Suddenly they all set up a howl, and took to their heels. They did not go far, however, but appeared to be running in circles about their prey, as if they had been driven away by some larger animal. Frank was not pleased with his neighbors, and did not feel at all inclined to go to sleep. He sat before his fire, with his rifle across his knees, and his revolvers close at hand, sincerely hoping that the wolves would not approach his camp. For two hours he remained in this position, and finally, becoming more accustomed to the howls of the wolves, he leaned against a tree, and was fast losing all consciousness of what was going on around him, when he was aroused by his horse, which came snorting through the willows, and did not stop until he had placed himself close to his master for protection. This alarmed Frank, who, remembering how Pete had acted the day before, was certain that there was a grizzly bear prowling about his camp; and, fearful that his horse, if left to himself, would run away, he slipped the bridle over his head, and tied him securely to a tree. While thus engaged, he heard a slight noise in the bushes, as if some heavy animal was endeavoring to pass carefully through them. This continued for half an hour, during which the animal, whatever it was, walked entirely around his camp. This tried Frank’s nerves severely. To sit there, in those woods, and listen to some animal walking about, perhaps watching for an opportunity to spring upon him, was almost as bad as facing a grizzly. Again and again the animal made the circuit of the camp, and presently Frank saw a pair of eyes, that looked like two coals of fire, glaring at him through the darkness. Should he fire at the animal? If it was a grizzly, and the wound should not prove fatal, his life would not be worth a moment’s purchase. There might be bushes between him and the beast, that would glance the ball, or his hand might prove unsteady. It was a risk he did not like to take; but he could try the effect of fire on him. So, catching up a brand, he threw it at the eyes, which instantly disappeared.
During the livelong night did Frank sit by the fire, holding his rifle in his hands, now and then caressing his horse, which stood close beside him, trembling with fear; while, at regular intervals, he heard a rustling in the willows, which told him that his enemy was still on the watch.
But all things have an end. At length, to Frank’s immense relief, day began to dawn. As soon as he could distinctly discern the nearest objects, he again hobbled his horse, and, after turning him loose to graze, began to prepare his breakfast. After he had cooked and eaten the last vestige of the ’coon, he saddled Pete, and, turning his back upon the place where he had passed a most uncomfortable night, set out toward the mountains.
About the same hour, the trapper arose from the prairie, where he had made his camp, and where he had slept soundly, in spite of the howling of the wolves, and, mounting Sleepy Sam, began to follow up the trail of the buffaloes. Each was looking for the other, and both were traveling in exactly opposite directions.
Frank had a long ride before him, and it was monotonous and tiresome. Pete appeared to have fully recovered from the effects of his long run, for he carried his rider at a rapid pace; but, at sunset, Frank had not reached the mountains. He could not bear the thought of camping on that bare prairie, where he could have no fire, and he resolved to ride until he reached the timber at the base of the mountains, if it took him until midnight. Darkness settled down over the prairie, and, a short time afterward, he reached the woods. As he rode slowly along, in the hope of discovering some stream, on the banks of which he could camp, he saw a light shining through the trees. A second look showed him that it was a camp-fire. No doubt he would find Dick there. Without hesitating an instant, he put spurs to his horse, and rode up in full view of the fire, around which he saw four men lying on their blankets.
CHAPTER XIII
Frank’s New Acquaintances
FRANK’S sudden appearance created considerable of a commotion in the camp, for the men sprang to their feet and reached rather hurriedly for their weapons. They were evidently alarmed; and Frank was a good deal surprised thereat, for he had not dreamed that men accustomed to the dangers of the prairie – as these undoubtedly were – could be frightened at the sudden approach of a single bewildered horseman. He, however, rode straight up to the fire, where the men stood with their rifles in their hands, and exclaimed, as he dismounted from his horse:
“Good evening, gentlemen!”
His politeness did not serve to allay the fears of the men, for they regarded him sharply for a moment, and then one of them asked, in a voice that somewhat resembled the growl of an enraged bear:
“What do you want?”
“I am lost,” replied Frank. “My horse was stampeded with a herd of buffaloes, and I am now making the best of my way back to my friends.”
The man slowly surveyed him from head to foot, and then answered, in a tone of voice which showed that he did not believe Frank’s statement:
“Lost! Lost, aint ye? Wal, what in tarnation are ye lost fur? Why don’t ye go whar ye b’long?”
“That’s what I want to do!” replied Frank, who, astonished at the manner in which he was received, and fearful that he would be compelled to pass another night alone on the prairie, did not notice the sly, meaning glances which the men exchanged. “I am trying to find my friends. I left them at the ‘old bear’s hole,’ if you know where that is.”
This statement was received with something like a long breath of relief by the trappers – for such they undoubtedly were – and the spokesman continued:
“Then, ye’re sartin ye’re lost, an’ that ye aint got no friends nigher nor the ole bar’s hole? Who war ye travelin’ with? Who’s yer comp’ny?”
“Dick Lewis and old Bob Kelly,” replied Frank, mentioning the names of the guides, with the hope that some of his new acquaintances might know them; nor was the hope a vain one, for the trappers repeated the names, and again exchanged those sly glances, which Frank noticed but could not understand:
“So ole Bob is yer comp’ny,” said his questioner, at length; “an’ ye’re sartin ye left him at the ole bar’s hole! Then, ye won’t be likely to set eyes on him to-night, ’cause the bar’s hole ar’ a good fifty mile from here, an’, if ye’re actooally an’ sartinly lost, ye aint no ways likely to find it in the dark.”
The trapper was evidently forgetting his fears and recovering his good nature – if he possessed that quality – for, as he resumed his seat at the fire, he continued, in a somewhat milder tone:
“If yer hoss war stampeded, stranger, he must be powerful lively on his legs to have tuk ye so fur; but, I reckon, ye must be travelin’ a leetle out of yer latitude. It aint often that a feller meets a teetotal stranger in these parts what says he’s lost, an’ we don’t like to take in every one as comes along; but, if so be that ye are a friend of Dick an’ ole Bob, ye can hobble yer hoss an’ camp here with us. Ye can sleep by our fire to-night, an’ in the mornin’ we’ll set yer on the right track.”
Frank gladly complied with this invitation, and, after relieving his horse of the saddle, he seated himself at the fire, and began to make a close examination of his new acquaintances. They were all large, muscular men, and were dressed in complete suits of buckskin, which were very ragged and dirty. Their faces were almost covered with thick, bushy whiskers, and their hair, which, judging by its tangled appearance, had never been made acquainted with a comb, hung down to their shoulders. The man who had acted the part of spokesman, was particularly noticeable, being more ragged and dirty than his companions, and his face, which bore several ugly scars, was almost as black as a negro’s.
In short, they were a very ferocious looking set, and Frank almost wished he had remained on the prairie instead of coming to their camp. But, after all, he might be very much mistaken in his men. It was not to be expected that persons of their calling, who had no doubt lived on the prairie from boyhood, who had been exposed to all kinds of weather, and braved innumerable dangers, it could not be expected that such men should always present a neat appearance. Beneath their rough exterior there might be hidden the warmest of hearts. And as for their reception of him, they had doubtless treated him as they treated every stranger they met on the prairie – on the principle, “Believe every man an enemy, until he proves himself otherwise.”
While these thoughts were passing through Frank’s mind, the trappers had been regarding him closely and with evident curiosity.
The result of their examination appeared to be satisfactory, for the spokesman presently remarked:
“It’s plain, stranger, that yer out of yer callin’. Ye don’t b’long on the prairy. Yer from the States, we take it.”
Frank replied that he was, and then proceeded to give the trappers an account of the circumstances that had brought him to the prairie, and also told how he had made the acquaintance of Dick and old Bob; to all of which the men listened eagerly, now and then exchanging the same sly glances that Frank had before noticed. When he had finished his story, the swarthy trapper arose to his feet, and, going to a tree close by, took down a piece of buffalo meat, from which he cut several slices that he placed on the coals, remarking as he did so:
“Whenever we do meet a stranger in these parts, an’ he turns out to be the right kind of a chap, we allers treat him as handsome as we know how. We can’t offer you anything more’n a chunk of buffaler hump, but sich as we have yer welcome to.”
The offer was evidently made in all sincerity, and if Frank still entertained any fears that the men were not what they should be, he speedily dismissed them, and again blessed his lucky stars that he was not compelled to pass another night alone on the prairie.
While his supper was cooking, he was again plied with questions, the most of them relating to the movements of old Bob; and especially did the trappers seem anxious to learn where he was going, and what he intended to do when he returned from California. Frank answered these questions as well as he could, and his replies seemed to satisfy the men, one of whom finally changed the subject of the conversation, by remarking:
“I’ll allow that’s a fine shootin’ iron of your’n, stranger, but it’s a new-fangled consarn, I should say.”
Frank, it will be remembered, had Archie’s rifle, which, being a breech-loading weapon, was something the trappers had never seen before, and it required considerable explanation to enable them to understand “how the consarn worked.”
From his rifle they went to the other articles of his “kit.” The contents of his haversack were examined, the qualities of his hunting-knife and revolvers discussed, and then they turned their attention to his horse – made inquiries concerning his speed and bottom, until, weary with their questioning, they stretched themselves out by the fire and went to sleep.
After eating his supper, Frank followed their example; and, being completely exhausted, having scarcely closed his eyes during the preceding night, he slept soundly until morning.
When he awoke it was just daylight. The trappers had already arisen; the fire had been replenished, and several slices of meat were broiling on the coals.
They hardly noticed Frank; the only reply his polite greetings received, being a sort of grunt and a slight nod of the head. After washing his hands and face in the creek that ran close by – a proceeding which the trappers regarded with undisguised contempt – he seated himself at the fire with the others and began helping himself to the meat, at the same time inquiring the way to the old bear’s hole.
“That ar’ is the way, stranger,” replied the swarthy trapper, pointing in a direction exactly contrary to the one Frank had pursued the day before; “an’, as I told ye last night, it’s nigh on to fifty miles off.”
After this, they again relapsed into silence, and as soon as they had finished their breakfast, went out to catch their horses. Frank accompanied them; all his old fears that there was something wrong, revived with redoubled force, and he was anxious to leave the company of his new acquaintances as soon as possible. When he had caught and saddled Pete, he left him standing for a few moments, until he secured his rifle and haversack, and when he turned to mount, he saw one of the trappers seize the horse by the bridle and spring into the saddle. Frank gazed in surprise at these movements, but before he could speak, the swarthy trapper turned suddenly upon him, exclaiming:
“Look a here, stranger! Ye come here last night without nobody’s askin’ ye, an’ tells us some kind of a story ’bout yer bein’ lost, an’ all that. Now, mebbe yer all right, an’ mebbe ye aint. Ye may have friends no great way off, that ye kalkerlate to bring down on us; but ye can’t ketch old foxes like us in no sich trap as that ar’. We’re jest goin’ to take yer hoss to keep yer from findin’ yer friends ag’in in a hurry. Yer young fur sich bisness as this yere, an’ if ye didn’t look so mighty innercent, I’d split yer wizzen fur ye. So now be off to onct, an’ don’t never cross our trail ag’in. If ye do – ” The trapper finished the sentence by shaking his head threateningly.
Frank listened to this speech in utter bewilderment. He could scarcely believe his ears. But it was plain that the trappers were in earnest, for the one who had mounted Pete held his own horse by the bridle, in readiness to start. He fully realized his helpless situation, and it almost overpowered him. But, at length, he found courage to say:
“You are certainly mistaken. I am lost. I don’t know where to go to find my friends, and, if you take my horse from me, I may never find them again. Besides, what is your object in robbing me?”
“Wal, now, stranger,” said the trapper, dropping the butt of his rifle to the ground, and leaning upon the muzzle of the weapon, “we jest aint a goin’ to stand no foolin’. We b’lieve yer a spy, an’ ar’ goin’ to bring Bob Kelly an’ the rest of yer friends down on us. That’s jest what’s the matter. The prairy is cl’ar, thar aint no Injuns to massacree ye; ye have a good pair of legs, so trot off on ’em to onct. Ye can be glad enough that we didn’t tie ye up to a tree, an’ leave ye to the wolves. If ole Kelly could get his hands on us, we’d be used a heap wusser nor robbin’, an’ you know it well enough. An’ when ye see the ole chap, ye can tell him that the next time he wants to try to ketch Black Bill, he’ll have to get up a better trick nor this yere. Come, now, mizzle – sally out to onct – an’ don’t stop to talk, ’cause it won’t do no arthly good whatsomever. Yer hoss is gone – that’s settled – an’, if yer shootin’ iron were any ’count, we’d a tuk that too. We’ve left ye three loads, an’ that’ll kill game enough to do ye till ye find yer friends. Come, walk off – make yourself skeerce, sudden.”
There was a wicked, determined look in the trapper’s eye that told Frank that he was in earnest; and, fully convinced that it would be useless to remonstrate, and fearful that if he did not obey the order, the man would fulfill his threat of tying him to a tree, and leaving him to the mercy of the wolves, he shouldered his rifle, and, with a heavy heart, set off on his journey.
When he reached the top of a high swell, about half a mile from the camp, he looked back, and saw the trappers riding off at a rapid gallop, Pete playing and prancing with his new rider as if he was perfectly satisfied with the change. Frank watched them as long as they remained in sight, and then, throwing himself on the ground, covered his face with his hands, and gave away to the most bitter thoughts. What could have induced the trappers to act so treacherously? Did they really suspect him of being a spy, or was that merely an excuse to rob him in his defenseless situation? The whole transaction was involved in a mystery he could not fathom, nor was it at all probable that he could arrive at a solution until he should see Dick or old Bob Kelly. Would he ever see them again, was a question he dare not ask himself. The chances were certainly not in his favor, situated as he was, alone, in the midst of an unbroken wilderness, the prairie stretching away, on one hand, as far as his eye could reach, the Rocky Mountains looming up on the other. But he was not one to look altogether upon the dark side of the picture. It had a bright side as well, and he found that he had reason to congratulate himself that the outlaws – for such he now knew them to be – had let him off so easily. What if they had left him bound to a tree, as they had threatened? The chances were not one in a hundred that he would ever have been released. Although his horse had been taken from him, he had been allowed to go free, and to retain his rifle and hunting-knife. Yes, his situation might have been infinitely worse. He still had much to be grateful for, and, as long as he had life, he would cherish the hope of being able to find his way to his friends. As these thoughts passed through his mind, they brought renewed strength and determination, and, rising to his feet, he again set out at a brisk walk.
He remembered that the outlaws had told him that, in order to reach the old bear’s hole, he must travel in a direction exactly opposite to the one he was pursuing; but he had good reason to believe that they had endeavored to mislead him. When he took his involuntary ride, he was careful to remember the points of the compass, and, as Pete had carried him exactly south, of course, in order to reach his friends, he must travel north. He had no compass, but the sun was just rising, and he was able to calculate all the points from that. Having settled this to his satisfaction, he began an examination of his haversack, and found that its contents had been thoroughly overhauled – no doubt while he was asleep – and that the outlaws had left him three cartridges for his rifle, and his flint and steel. All the other articles, which consisted of several rounds of ammunition for his revolvers (which had gone off with his horse), stone arrow-heads, spear-heads, the claws of the bear that Dick had killed in the cave, and numerous other relics which Archie had collected since leaving St. Joseph, had all been abstracted.
In spite of his unpleasant situation, Frank could not repress a smile, when he thought how indignant his cousin would be, when he received an account of his losses. Having completed his examination, and placed his remaining cartridges carefully away in his pocket, he resumed his journey, and, just as he reached the top of a swell, he discovered a horseman galloping rapidly along the edge of the willows that fringed the base of the mountains. The thought that he saw something familiar, about both the horse and his rider, had scarcely passed through Frank’s mind, when he was electrified by the sight of a large brindle dog, which ran in and out of the bushes, with his nose close to the ground, now and then uttering an impatient bark, which was answered by yells of encouragement from the horseman. There was no mistaking that yell, and Frank ran down the swell, swinging his hat, and endeavoring to attract the attention of the man with a voice which, in his excitement, he could scarcely raise above a whisper. But he was discovered. Both dog and horseman turned toward him, and, a moment afterward, Frank had one arm around the neck of Useless, and his hand was inclosed in the trapper’s vice-like grasp.
