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CHAPTER IV
LOST IN THE FOREST

"I must get away from them!"

This was the one thought which surged through Joe Moore's brain as he dashed from the cave in the mountain. He felt that if he was captured it would go hard with him. Did the desperadoes learn that he had overheard their conversation, they might make his very life pay the forfeit.

Forward he pitched, into the rain and the inky darkness, not knowing in what direction and just then caring but little. His one idea was to put distance between himself and his pursuers.

"Stop!" he heard the men call, and heard the clicking of a pistol hammer. Then he reached some brushwood, and, crouching low, continued to move on. No shot came, for the reason that the desperadoes could not locate him with certainty.

At length Joe reached a clump of trees. Had he not had his hands before him he might have run into them head first. He glided around them, and then continued onward, down a slope leading into a broad belt of timber. Still with his hands before him, he advanced through the undergrowth and between the stately trees for a distance of several hundred feet.

He was now exhausted with running and with fighting the entangling vines, and had to halt to catch his breath. As he came to a stop he listened attentively, to learn if the men were following, but the downpour of rain drowned out every other sound.

Soaked to the skin, hatless, and still short of breath, he went on once more, feeling that he was not yet far enough from the cave for safety. He tried to steer a course in the direction of the cave where he had left Darry and the old scout, but whether he was successful or not he could not tell.

A hundred yards further and Joe came to another slope, covered with prairie grass. Down this he rolled in the darkness, to bring up in more brush below. Then he climbed out of the hollow at the opposite side, and, reaching a large fallen tree, sat down to rest and think over his situation. The tree lay partly under one with wide-spreading branches, so the boy was somewhat sheltered from the storm.

It must be confessed that Joe's heart sank within him as he reviewed the situation. Where he was he could not tell, nor could he form any definite plan for rejoining his cousin and old Benson. More than this, he was afraid that the desperadoes might come up at any minute and pounce upon him.

But as the minutes slipped by, and he neither saw nor heard anything of those in pursuit, he grew easier. Evidently they had given up the chase.

"I hope they have," was what he thought. "I never want to get so close to them again. They are a hard crowd, if ever there was one. If I can get to the fort and tell Colonel Fairfield of what I've heard, I'll be doing a good thing."

An hour went by slowly, and then Joe looked around to find some means of making himself comfortable for the balance of the night, knowing it would be useless to pursue his course through the forest in the darkness.

"This is camping out with a vengeance!" he muttered grimly. "Darry ought to be along; I guess he'd soon get enough of it. I'll be lucky if I don't fall in with some savage animal."

The thought of wild beasts gave him another shiver, and he concluded to climb into a nearby tree, which was low-drooping and had a spot where several branches made a sort of platform. He was soon up in a comparatively dry place, and here he fell asleep, being too tired to hold his eyes open longer.

When Joe awoke the storm had cleared away and the sun was struggling through the scattering clouds. The forest still dripped with the rain, and with this dripping were mingled the songs of the birds and the hum of insects.

Stiff from the wet, he climbed slowly to the ground and looked around. On every side were the tall trees and the dense undergrowth, shutting off the distant view of everything but a towering mountain to the westward. This was the mountain he and the others had been ascending when the storm had overtaken them.

"I suppose I may as well head in that direction," he mused. "If I can strike the trail that will be something. But I'll have to keep my eyes open, or I may fall into the hands of that Gilroy gang."

He was hungry, but there were no means at hand with which to satisfy the cravings of his stomach, and so he had to move forward without eating.

Getting into the forest had been difficult, but getting out was even more of a task. The underbrush at certain points was positively impassable, and he had to make long detours, which took time and tired him greatly. At noon he was still in the forest, and the mountain seemed as far off as ever.

"I am lost, that is all there is to it!" he burst out with a groan. "I am lost, and perhaps I'll never get out!"

The sun shone down directly on his head, and even though still wet he was glad enough to seek the shelter the stately trees afforded. Here and there he saw some berries of various hues, but they were strange to him, and he did not dare touch them for fear of being poisoned.

Toward the middle of the afternoon he reached a tiny brook, flowing between the rocks, and here he again rested. He reached the conclusion that the brook came down from the mountain side and by following it up he must sooner or later run across the lost trail.

"I'll follow it, anyway," he told himself, and, hungry and footsore, set out along the water-course.

Here the walking was somewhat better, for he had no brushwood and vines to tear aside. The brook was clear, and he often saw trout and other fish darting hither and thither. This gave him an idea, and, picking some berries he had seen, he dropped them in. At once some of the fish darted forward and swallowed the berries.

"Hurrah, a good bait!" he cried, and quickly made himself a line out of threads from his clothing. To this he attached a pin bent into shape with infinite care. Then he baited with the berries, and dropped the line in over a rock near a cottonwood.

Hardly had his bait touched the water when a good-sized fish seized it, and in a twinkling he had his catch landed. His heart gave a bound, for here was the material for at least one square meal.

"I'll cook it right away," he told himself, after feeling to see if he had any matches. His hunger was beginning to make him desperate, and he did not much care even if the desperadoes did see his camp-fire.

With some trouble he got together a few sticks of wood and some moss which the sunshine had dried out, and soon he had a respectable blaze between two rocks. With his jackknife he cleaned the fish as best he could, and then broiled it on a green twig. When done the meat was slightly burnt on one side and underdone on the other, but to the half-famished lad nothing had ever tasted sweeter, and he continued to eat until the whole fish was gone.

"Now I feel like myself," he muttered, after washing down the repast with a drink from the brook. "On a pinch that meal ought to last me until to-morrow noon, and surely I ought to find my way back to the others by that time."

With renewed energy he continued his tramp along the brook, often wading in the water when the brushwood on either side was extra thick. He kept his eyes and ears on the alert, but no human being came into sight, and presently a great feeling of loneliness swept over him.

"I'm alone," he whispered to himself. "Alone! I must say I don't like it much," and he hurried on faster than ever.

The sun was shining over the distant mountain when he reached a bend in the brook and came out upon a rocky trail which crossed the water-course at a right angle. As he looked at the trail he was tempted to shout with joy.

"The place we crossed yesterday morning!" he exclaimed. "There is the very spot where we got a drink and watered the horses. Now I ought not to have such a hard time finding the cave."

He got down and examined the trail closely, hoping to discover some hoofmarks. But the heavy rain had washed everything clean. Nevertheless, he felt certain that he was right, and hurried along as fast as his tired limbs permitted.

Leaving the brook, the trail wound in and out along a series of rocks and then through some heavy brushwood and along the edge of a jagged cliff. The cliff was overgrown with heavy vines, which hung down and brushed Joe's head as he passed.

"I can't be more than three or four miles from the cave," thought the boy. "And if I hurry – "

He stopped short, and then gave a cry of terror, and with good reason. He had seen the vines ahead suddenly part, and now there came to view the shaggy head of a black bear. As soon as the beast caught sight of the boy he leaped to the trail and advanced upon him.

CHAPTER V
THE BIG BLACK BEAR

Joe had never before met a black bear in the open air, but he had seen several in menageries and studied them at a safe distance, and he realized that he was in a perilous position. The bear looked both untamed and fierce and as if nothing would suit him better than to hug the lad to death and eat him up afterward.

Joe did not stand upon the order of his going, but went instantly, running as fast as his tired limbs would permit. After him came the bear, and it was astonishing what good time the beast could make considering his size and his general appearance of clumsiness. Looking over his shoulder, the lad soon saw that the beast was slowly but surely lessening the distance between them.

"Shoo!" he yelled, and waved his arm threateningly, but the bear did not mind in the least. He trotted on until less than two rods separated boy and beast. Then Joe reached some underbrush and rocks, with a low-hanging tree in their midst, and without stopping to think twice he climbed into the tree and to one of the upper branches.

Hardly had he reached what he thought might prove a temporary place of safety when he realized his mistake. The bear came up the tree after him, – slowly, it is true; but still up, – and this caused Joe's hair to fairly stand upon end.

"I'm a gone one now!" he groaned, and then espied another tree growing not far away. A limb could just be reached, and as the bear almost gained the boy's foot Joe swung himself from the first tree into the second.

As the lad gained a safe spot on the tree limb, the bear, coming to a halt on the branch opposite, set up a growl of rage and disappointment. For a minute he surveyed the situation, then came out on the branch slowly, testing it inch by inch. As it bent down he retreated, letting out a second growl, louder than the other.

Joe was wondering if he could drop to the ground and escape in that manner, when he saw the bear descend and come quickly toward the tree he was on. He watched the beast closely, and waited until it was close to him. Then he made a leap back into the tree from which he had originally come.

Again the bear came out as far as possible on a limb, and again he let out a growl of rage and disappointment. In one way the situation was comical, and Joe might have laughed had he not felt so serious.

"We can keep this up a long time, I reckon," thought the boy. "And as long as you don't try to leap after me I'll be safe."

Finding he could not reach the boy by coming up one tree or the other, the black bear descended slowly to the ground. Then he walked around both trees several times, and at last came to a halt between the two. Here he sank down, as if to rest, but nevertheless kept one eye open and fixed upon Joe.

"He's going on guard! He means to keep me treed!" muttered the boy, and again his heart sank. He remembered a story he had once read, in which a bear had starved a man to death and eaten him afterward. Would Mr. Bruin do so in this case?

He wished he had a pistol, or a hunting-knife, or even a fair-sized stone. But he had nothing except a thin club, which he had cut for himself with his jackknife. This he kept in hand, and also kept the knife open and where he could get at it readily if needed.

Half an hour went by, – a time that to Joe seemed a whole day, – and still the black bear remained between the two trees, dozing with one eye and watching with the other.

The sight of the beast taking it so easy was maddening under the circumstances, and at last the youth cut another club and hurled it down on top of the bear. At once the beast flew up with a roar, and, standing on his hind legs, snapped his teeth at Joe. Then he flew up the tree once more, faster than ever before.

As the bear came up, Joe went higher than before, having seen another friendly limb over his head. He was sorely tempted to reach for the beast with his club, but thought best not to run too much of a risk.

As before, the youth swung to the next tree, and again the bear gave a growl and went down. Then, being near the top of the tree, the lad took a good look around.

In a moment a sight caught his eye which caused his heart to jump with delight. There on the trail were Darry and old Benson, riding along slowly.

"Hi! hi! This way!" he shouted, with all the strength of his lungs. "This way, Darry! This way, Benson!"

He saw his cousin and the guide bring their steeds to a halt and gaze around in wonder. To them the voice appeared to come out of the very air itself.

"It's Joe's voice!" exclaimed Darry. "But I must say I don't see him."

Both gazed around, and at last the scout caught sight of the boy's handkerchief fluttering among the tree branches.

"There he is!" he exclaimed. "But what's he doing up there?"

"This way!" went on Joe, and as they turned in the direction, he added, "Look out for the bear!"

"A bear!" came from Darry. "He must be treed!"

"I reckon you've struck it," muttered Benson, and hastily unslung his rifle, at which Darry did the same. "Follow me, but be on your guard," went on the old scout.

He advanced with caution, his horse lifting his ears sharply as the neighborhood of the trees was gained. Presently the animal came to a sudden halt. At the same moment Benson caught sight of the bear.

"So that's where ye are!" muttered the old scout.

The bear raised himself on his hind legs and let out a growl at the newcomers. Hardly had the sound arose upon the air when Benson's rifle cracked, and a bullet hit the beast in the breast. Down went the animal on all fours, but did not tumble further. Instead, he made a swift bound for the scout's horse.

Crack! It was now Darry's rifle that spoke up, and the bear was hit again, this time in the right front knee. He dropped, but quickly arose, shaking the wounded leg in the air and uttering a tremendous roar of pain and rage.

Neither horse would now stand still, and both danced around so lively that each rider had all he could do to keep his saddle. But even while his steed pranced in this fashion, old Benson managed to draw his pistol, and two additional shots rang out, both hitting the bear in the side. The roars of the beast were now incessant, and the horses threatened to bolt in spite of all the riders could do to stop them.

"Come!" cried the old scout, and turned from the scene. Thinking he meant to go off to reload, Darry followed. But when at a safe distance Benson sprang to the ground and tied his horse to a tree.

"I'd rather finish him afoot," explained the old hunter, and slipped another cartridge into his rifle. "You can stay here if you wish."

"Not much!" murmured Darry, and came down also. In a minute he was following the old scout. When they came up a second time they found the bear crawling around, roaring in a lower tone. Evidently he was more than half exhausted.

"Another good shot will finish him," sang out Joe, from a bottom limb of the tree. "Why don't you give it to him in the ear?"

"I will," answered the old scout, and circled around, watching his opportunity. At length it came – the rifle cracked sharply, and Bruin fell on his side, to rise no more.

"Hurrah! That's a big haul!" cried Darry, much delighted. "I was wishing we'd get a bear some time while we were out here."

"It's lucky the bear didn't get Joe," remarked Benson. "They generally come up a tree after their victim."

"I jumped from one tree to the other," answered the youth. "But I had quite an exciting time, I can assure you."

"How in the world did you get here?" questioned Darry, as Joe leaped to the ground. "Did you get through to another cave? Benson thought that might be the case."

"That was the case, Darry. And I've had a wonderful adventure, too," added Joe earnestly. Then he told his story, to which the others listened with close attention. When he came to mention Gilroy, Fetter, and Potts, old Benson uttered a low whistle.

"So that gang has turned up again, eh?" muttered the old scout. "This will be news to Colonel Fairfield. I reckon he'll be glad to be put on guard. If the quartermaster was held up it would prove a big loss."

"Is it true that Colonel Fairfield killed this Gilroy's chum?"

"Perhaps he did. The colonel was in that mix-up, and after it was over Dan Hickey was found dead in the bushes. But it was a fair fight, and the desperadoes knew what to expect when they went in for it."

"When does the quartermaster expect to come through with the money?"

"I don't know, Joe. Like as not it will be soon. And that being the case, we had better not lose time here, but get to the fort just as soon as we can," concluded the old scout.

CHAPTER VI
DARRY MAKES A DISCOVERY

As pressed as they were for time, Darry and Joe begged that the bearskin be saved, and did all they could toward helping the old scout skin the beast. With the pelt they took along about twenty pounds of the juiciest steaks.

"It's a pity to leave the rest to the wolves!" sighed Joe. "But it can't be helped. What a feast they will have!"

"I'm going to sling the beast into a tree," replied old Benson. "That may help save it until somebody else comes this way. The soldiers from the fort use the trail yonder, you know."

Soon they were on the way to where Benson and Darry had left Joe's horse. As Joe was tired from his night's adventure, his cousin and the old scout took turns in carrying him behind them. Even then his eyes would occasionally close.

"We can't make the fort to-night, that's certain," said the old scout.

"Not if we pushed on hard?" asked Darry.

"Joe can't push on as fast as that, Darry. He'll want to rest as soon as sundown comes."

"Perhaps I can get a nap at noon, while you two get dinner ready," suggested Joe. "I wonder if we'll meet those rascals anywhere on the road? I hope not, for they'd be certain to recognize me."

"We'll keep an eye open for 'em," responded Benson dryly. "And see to it that your shooting-irons are ready for use."

"Why – do you think they'd attack us?" asked Darry quickly.

"They might – if they thought we were carrying anything of value. To such desperadoes all are fish that swim near their net."

"It's a pity the government can't stamp such a gang out, Benson."

"The government has stamped out lots of 'em, lad. Why, ten years ago none of these trails was safe. Nearly every horseman and stage-coach was held up. To-day you don't hear of a hold-up once in six months."

"Is this Gilroy a very bad man?"

"He is – in a way. He's a well-educated fellow, so I've been told, and not as brutal as some. But he's committed some robberies that have no equal in the history of these parts. Once he painted himself as an Indian and went to the agency, and there collected a lot of money which was coming to the redskins, the agent taking him for Chief Snowbird of the Modocs. The trick wasn't discovered until three days later, when the real Snowbird turned up. Even then it wasn't known who did the trick."

"And how was Gilroy found out?"

"A fellow named Downes, who belonged to the gang, was captured, and he gave the secret away. But it cost Downes his life, for he got away from the soldiers, and while he was in the mountains some of his gang shot and killed him."

At this story both Joe and Darry shuddered.

"What a lawless set!" muttered Joe. "One could hardly believe it unless he saw it with his own eyes."

"In a rough country the men are bound to be more or less rough, lad. Look at California, for instance. To-day it's as quiet and orderly as Massachusetts or Illinois. But in the days of '49 it wasn't that way. Many a miner was held up for his gold dust, and many a miner's secret of a rich find was stolen from him and the miner himself murdered."

"And how long do you think it will take to make this territory perfectly safe?"

"There aint no telling about that, but probably when you are as old as I am now you'll be able to travel anywhere without fear of being stopped. The railroads are a-coming in, towns are building up, and one of these days the desperadoes and stage-coach robbers will all be a thing of the past – and a good job done."

The third horse had been found, and now Joe was riding in his own saddle. The rain of the night before had made the trail dustless, and the air was as pure and sweet as one could wish.

By noon they calculated that they had covered ten miles of the worst portion of the distance to the fort. The ride had been a strain to Joe, and when old Benson called a halt he was glad enough to slip to the ground and throw himself in the shade of a tree to rest. Darry and the old scout lit a fire, and soon had a nice steak preparing for dinner.

"He's asleep," said Darry, a little later, pointing to Joe. "Poor fellow! supposing we let him rest for a couple of hours? I haven't the heart to wake him up."

"All right," answered Benson. The pair ate their dinner without arousing Joe, and after it was over the scout sat down near at hand to smoke his stumpy brier-root pipe, filling it with cut-plug which was as black as coal, and puffing away with keen satisfaction.

Darry was more restless, and having put away the things used in preparing the meal he began an inspection of the neighborhood.

"Be careful," said old Benson, as the youth moved around. "Don't get into trouble, as Joe did."

"I'll keep my eyes open," replied Darry.

Opposite the trail was a tall spur of rocks with something of a series of natural steps leading to the top. Up these steps went the youth. Some of the climbing was difficult, but this he did not mind.

When the top was gained a magnificent panorama was spread out before him. To one side were the tall mountains, hidden in a bluish mist, to the other the vast forests and plains. Northward was the continuation of the gap they were traveling, and southward was a series of foothills, with here and there a stream or waterfall glinting brightly in the sunshine.

"How grand!" he murmured. "What a vast country this is! Thousands upon thousands of people could live here, and nobody be crowded. This would make splendid pasture for cows and sheep, and yet there isn't a single animal in sight."

Beyond the rocky spur was a similar elevation, and presently Darry crossed to this. Here there was a lone pine with several low branches, and he drew himself up and climbed to the top. He could now see much further than formerly, and his view took in a portion of the trail passed several hours before, as it wound, serpent-like, between the foothills.

"Hullo!" he cried, as he caught sight of something moving on the trail. "Three people on horseback. Can they be the desperadoes Joe met?"

He watched the riders with interest, and at last felt certain they were three men fully armed and wearing slouch hats and light-colored coats. This description tallied with that given by his cousin, and he hastened down to acquaint old Benson with the news.

"Must be the gang," said the scout. "Are they moving this way?"

"Yes."

"Then we had better move on."

Joe was awakened, and leaped to his feet, looking rather bewildered.

"I – I thought I'd take a little nap," he stammered. "I suppose I've slept a good while, haven't I?"

"About an hour and a half," answered his cousin. "Here's your dinner," and he passed it over. "We've got to move on. Those rascals are behind us."

"Behind us!"

"Don't get scared," put in old Benson. "They are a good distance back. Darry discovered 'em from yonder p'int. Eat what you want, and then it will be time enough to start."

The repast was quickly disposed of by Joe, and soon they were in the saddle once more. The long nap had refreshed the lad greatly, and he said he would now be able to ride as far as anybody.

On they went, the trail growing more difficult as the top of the mountain was gained. Here there was a stiff breeze that at times was positively cold, and both boys were glad enough to button their jackets tightly around them.

If all went well Benson calculated that they could reach Hank Leeson's place with ease before dark. This was the cabin of an old hunter and trapper who was known from one end of the Territory to the other. As mentioned at the beginning of this tale, Leeson's place was twenty miles from the fort.

"I could ride right through," said the old scout. "But you boys couldn't do it. If you tried it, you'd be so sore and stiff the next day you couldn't stand up."