"NOW FOR THE RANCH."
One of the singular features connected with the experience of our young
friends during the first night they spent in Wyoming was that all the
danger which threatened them came from one Indian and from one _lupus_.
After Jack Dudley had expelled the prowling buck, the intruder took good
care to remain away. Neither he nor any of his companions troubled the
campers further. The presumption, therefore, was that this solitary
specimen was a "dog Indian," or vagrant, wandering over the country on
his own account. Such fellows, as already explained, claim no kinship
with any tribe, but are, like the tramps of civilized society, agents
for themselves alone.
Had the season been winter, with the snow deep on the ground, the
trouble from the wolves would have been more serious. Those gaunt
creatures, when goaded by hunger, become exceedingly daring, and do not
hesitate to attack even armed bodies of men; but it was autumn time,
when the ravenous brutes, who seem always to be hungry, find the least
difficulty in procuring food, and they remained true to their cowardly
disposition and refrained from everything in the nature of true courage.
The curious fact, as we have remarked, was that, as in the case of the
Indian, only a single wolf intruded upon the little company. The animals
generally travel in droves, and when one is seen it is quite safe to
count upon a dozen, or a score, or even more. It is possible that the
victim of Fred Greenwood's Winchester was also a sort of tramp,
prospecting for his own benefit. It is more likely, however, that he was
what might be considered a scout or advance agent of others. His pack
was probably waiting among the foot-hills for him to return with his
report. If so, the report is now considerably overdue.
Fred was a model sentinel for the remaining hours that he continued on
duty. He continued circling about the camp-fire, silent, stealthy,
peering here and there, and listening for the first evidence of danger.
Nothing of the kind was seen or heard, and he finally came back to the
smouldering fire and looked at the face of his watch.
Could it be possible? It lacked a few minutes of three o'clock.
According to agreement, he should have called Hazletine an hour before.
"I don't suppose he will object," said Fred, aloud; "I'm sure I
shouldn't, if allowed to sleep an hour beyond my time----"
"I ain't doing any kicking, am I?"
Looking around, he saw the guide had flung aside his blanket and was
sitting erect, with a quizzical expression on his face.
"What made you fire your gun 'bout two hours ago?" he asked.
"Did you hear me?"
"How'd I know if I hadn't heard it?" was the pertinent question.
"A wolf was sneaking among the trees. I followed him out to the edge of
the timber and let him have it between the eyes."
"Did you hurt him?"
"Since he flopped over and died, I have reason to believe he _was_
hurt."
"Good! That's the style--always to shoot. Never waste your ammunition.
You didn't kill any Injins?"
"I saw none at all."
Hank looked at the unconscious figure of Jack Dudley.
"Wonder how it was with him?"
"He did not fire his gun at anything."
Fred did not wish to tell his friend about that alarming visit earlier
in the evening. That was Jack's concern.
"But he may have seed something. Howsumever, we can wait till morning.
Wal, younker, if you've no 'bjection you can lay down and snooze till
morning. I go on duty now."
There was vast comfort in this knowledge. It relieved the youth from the
last remnant of anxiety, and he lost no time in abandoning himself to
slumber. The man who was now acting as sentinel was a past master at the
art, and there need be no misgiving while he was on duty. Thus it came
about that neither Jack Dudley nor Fred Greenwood opened his eyes until
the sun was shining into the grove.
Each had had a refreshing night, but it cannot be said that their
awakening was of the most pleasant nature. The hunger that had been
twice satisfied the day before was not to be compared to that which now
got hold of them. With the insatiate craving was the knowledge that
there was not a scrap of meat, a crumb of bread nor a drop of milk in
camp.
"We can fill up on water," remarked Jack, after they had bathed faces
and hands and quaffed their fill.
"But what good will that do? We might bubble over, but we should be just
as hungry as ever."
"It seems to me that when a fellow is chock-full of anything he oughtn't
to feel much hunger."
"I've often thought that, but you can't fool nature that way."
"If it gets any worse we can shoot the ponies and devour them."
"Why both of them?"
"Because it would take a whole one to satisfy me. I don't know how _you_
feel, Jack, but if we are to have appetites like this I shall go in for
buying a drove of cattle and spending the few weeks we have in these
parts in eating."
The youths looked in each other's face and laughed. Truly they were
ahungered, but could never quite lose their waggishness.
"I wonder what's become of Hank," suddenly exclaimed Fred, looking
beside and behind them; "the fire is nearly burned out, and he is
nowhere in sight. HALLOOH!"
The hail was uttered in a loud voice, and was responded to, but from a
point a considerable distance out upon the prairie, in the direction of
the foot-hills. The open nature of the wood permitted the boys to see
quite clearly in that direction.
"Yonder he comes," said Jack.
"And, by gracious, he's carrying something on his shoulders. I wonder if
it is that Indian you chatted with last night."
"Better than that. It's _something to eat_!"
Jack Dudley was right. The guide was laden with the carcass of some
animal. Its bulk was proof that he possessed an accurate idea of the
appetite of these young gentlemen.
"How careless in him to leave us thus alone," remarked Fred, with mock
reproof.
"Do you wish he hadn't done so?"
"Don't name it!" exclaimed Fred, with a shudder; "he knew the only way
of saving our lives. It wouldn't have done for him to postpone it
another hour."
Hank Hazletine was never more welcome than when he entered the grove and
let fall from his shoulders the carcass of a half-grown calf, plump,
juicy, tender, and in the best of condition.
"I don't s'pose you care much 'bout it, but I feel like having something
worth while for breakfast," he remarked, proceeding to prepare the
coals, for he had dressed the veal before starting on his return.
"Well," said Fred, with assumed indifference, "I suspect that since you
intend to partake of food yourself, we may as well join you for the sake
of sociability."
Men like the old hunter are adepts at preparing a meal. The smouldering
fire was in good condition for broiling, and when raked apart afforded a
bed of live coals, over which generous slices were suspended on green
twigs, cut from the nearest trees. It took but a few minutes to prepare
the meat. Hank always carried with him a box of mixed pepper and salt,
whose contents were sprinkled over the toothsome food, of which the
three ate their fill.
"Are there any more of these animals left in the neighborhood?" asked
Jack, when their appetites were fully satisfied.
"S'pose you go out on the edge of the timber and larn for yourselves."
The lads followed the suggestion. Looking off in the direction of the
Wind River Mountains, it seemed to them that tens of thousands of cattle
were browsing among the foot-hills and on the grassy plain, while many
more must have been beyond sight. This was one of the choicest regions
of Wyoming, so widely celebrated for its grazing facilities.
It was an impressive sight, and the boys, each of whom was provided with
a good spy-glass, surveyed the scene for some minutes in wondering
silence. The cattle were several miles distant, and seemed to be brown,
undulating hummocks of dirt, kept in constant motion by some force
beneath. On the outer fringe they were more scattered, but were
constantly moving, as if the pasturage was so excellent that they were
continually tempted to give up that which was good for that which looked
better.
"Are they left wholly to themselves?" asked Fred, as the youths came
back to where the guide was saddling his pony.
"No. There are always two or three men looking after them. I seed Bart
Coinjock, one of our own cowboys, 'tending our animals, and he told me
to take my ch'ice from the lot. You mustn't forgit that we're purty
close to the Wind River Injin Reservation, where the Government has
several tribes under charge."
This was news to the boys. Hazletine explained that a large tract of
land to the northwest and close to the mountains had been set apart some
years before by the United States Government for exclusive occupancy by
several tribes of Indians. They owned the land, and no white man had the
right to intrude upon them.
In the Southwest, where the Apaches were placed on reservations, there
had been the most frightful trouble, for those Indians are the worst in
North America. All our readers know how many times the fierce Geronimo
and a few of his hostiles broke away from their reservation, and, riding
swiftly through Arizona and New Mexico, spread desolation, woe and death
in their path. Not until Geronimo and his worst bucks were run down in
old Mexico and transported bodily to the East was the danger to the
Southwest terminated.
Nothing of the kind has taken place in Wyoming, Montana, the Dakotas and
other reservations further east, but there is always a certain number of
malcontents on the reservations who cause trouble. They steal away
unnoticed by the authorities, and engage in thieving, and, when the
chances are favorable against detection, commit graver crimes.
"That Injin that come into the timber last night was a sort of dog Injin
that had come down from the Wind River Reservation to find out what he
could steal."
The boys looked at each other in astonishment. They had made no
reference to the visitor in the hearing of the guide, and could not
understand where he had gained his knowledge. He noticed their surprise,
and smiled.
"I seed the tracks of his pony, as well as his own. It was as plain to
me as the words of a printed book. Why didn't you shoot the chap?"
Thus appealed to, Jack told the story. Hazletine listened with an
expression of amused contempt on his bearded face.
"You'll git over that afore you've been here long. I think I know who he
was. Tell me how he looked."
Jack was able to give a good description of his visitor, and before it
was finished the guide nodded his head several times.
"It was him, Motoza, one of the worst scamps west of the Mississippi."
"What do you suppose he was after?"
"He'll steal anything he can lay his hands on. If he'd found us all
asleep he'd shot every one of us. That's the kind of a feller Motoza is.
You played it well on him, catching him as you did, but you'd played it
a hanged sight better if you'd put a bullet through him afore you asked
any questions."
"What tribe does he belong to?"
"That's a queer part of it. Gin'rally it's easy to tell from the dress,
paint and style of an Injin what his tribe or totem is, but there's
nothing of the kind 'bout Motoza to guide you. I think he's a Sioux."
"I understood those red men live further to the eastward."
"So they do; but Motoza has wandered from his people. He was under
Sitting Bull, and went with him into British America when it got too hot
on this side of the line; but Sitting Bull come back, and Motoza
follered. He tries to make b'leve he's a good Injin, and sometimes he is
for months at a time on the reservation. Then the devil gits into him,
and he's off somewhere."
While this conversation was going on the three had mounted their ponies
and were galloping northward, this time trending to the right, so as to
draw away from the mountains and follow an almost direct line to
Bowman's ranch, their destination. The animals were so fresh and
spirited that Hazletine said he was hopeful of sleeping that night in
the ranch itself, as he called the low, flat building where he and
several cowmen made their home when in that part of the country
attending to their duties.
It would take hard riding, and would lead them into the night to
accomplish the long journey, but the guide saw no reason why it should
not be done. If a storm came up--and they break with amazing suddenness
at times in that part of the world--or if any mishap befell their
ponies, a stop would have to be made for the night before reaching the
ranch.
Jack Dudley decided to ask a question that had been in his mind for some
time.
"Hank, that Indian last night was in my power, and he knew it as well as
I, but I spared his life and allowed him to ride away without a hair of
his head harmed. Now, don't you think he will feel some gratitude for
that?"
Hazletine threw back his head with uproarious laughter. He seemed to
have heard the best joke of a twelvemonth.
"What give you that idee?" he asked, when he succeeded in mastering his
exuberant mirth.
"Why, the event itself. I know that an Indian is revengeful by nature,
but I have always believed that he was capable of gratitude for
kindness."
"You've read that in story-books, but you never seed it in life. I won't
be quite as rough as that," added the guide, in the same breath; "I have
seen a redskin that didn't furgit that a man had saved him from dying or
being shot, but such redskins are as scarce as hen's teeth. The rule is
that they take all such kindnesses as signs of cowardice, and despise
the one that shows 'em. Let me tell you something that I know,"
continued Hazletine, seriously. "Three years ago, when I was down in
Arizona, Jim Huber was the owner of the ranch where I was working. He
b'leved in treating Injins kindly. I've seen him give the 'Paches water
to drink when they was thirsty, meat to eat, 'bacca to smoke, and even
powder and ball for their guns. He kept that up right along, and when he
was warned agin it, he said an Injin was human like the rest of us, and
he was willing to take his chances. The 'Paches wouldn't furgit what
he'd done fur 'em.
"Wal, they didn't. The fust thing we knowed, Geronimo and a dozen of his
devils was off their reservation and coming down through them parts like
a Kansas cyclone. It happened that me and the boys was several miles off
when we heerd the news, and knowing that Huber was alone at the ranch,
we rid like all mad fur the place. We got there too late to save him.
The ranch was on fire, and he was mangled so we hardly knowed him. But
he had died game, and killed two of the 'Paches afore he went under. The
three laid aside one another, and the two Injins was the very ones that
had set at his table, eat of his food, been given powder and ball, and
been treated like brothers."
"Are all red men as bad as that?"
"I've just said they wasn't. There's lots of 'em that would make an
ordinary white man ashamed of himself. But most of 'em are alike. What
I'm driving at is to knock out of your head any idee that this Motoza
that you let up on last night thinks any more of you for it. It's
t'other way. He despises you fur a coward, and if he ever gits the
chance he'll prove what I say is true."
This was depressing information for the youths, but they did not think
it seeming to express any doubts of the sentiments of one who was so
much better informed than they. They hoped that their own experience
would be of a different nature.
Having set out with the intention of reaching the ranch that evening,
the guide had made the necessary preparations. He rolled up enough
cooked pieces of veal to avert the need of starting another fire and
looking for more food. So it came about that when the boys began to
consult their watches and hint of it being near meal time, he drew rein
at another stream of water, where the ponies were allowed to rest and
graze while their masters refreshed themselves. The animals had been
pressed as much as was prudent; and Hazletine, looking at the sky and
their surroundings, said they were making better progress than he had
counted upon.
The weather remained all that could be desired, though he assured them
that a heavy rain-storm was impending, and would break within
twenty-four hours--an additional incentive for pushing forward.
They were hardly ever out of sight of cattle. Sometimes they were few in
numbers, and then they suggested the droves of buffaloes, which, before
the animals were extirpated, numbered hundreds of thousands. Once the
horsemen approached so close that the cattle were frightened and a
partial stampede followed. That Hazletine was among acquaintances was
proved by the hails which he received from cowmen, most of whom were so
distant that the wonder was how they recognized one another. The boys
studied them through their spy-glasses, but, of course, all were
strangers to them.
When the afternoon was about half gone they came upon a stream that
looked formidable. It was a hundred yards in width, with a roiled and
rapid current, which, so far as the eye could determine, might be a
score of feet in depth. The prospect of having to swim their ponies
across was anything but pleasant, but the boys saw that a well-marked
trail led down to the bank where they approached it, showing that it had
been crossed and recrossed many times.
"There are places in that stream, which flows into the Platte," said the
guide, "where it is a hundred feet deep. It has whirlpools and eddies
where the best swimmer couldn't save himself, and even a grizzly bear
would drown."
"I hope those places are a good way off," said Jack.
"There's one of 'em right over there to the left."
"How are we going to reach the other side?" asked Fred, in dismay.
"Foller me."
As he spoke the guide spurred his animal into the muddy water, with the
boys timidly at his heels and closely watching him.
At no time during the fording did the ponies sink above their knees. It
was a surprise and vast relief when they rode out on the other side
without having been compelled to draw up their feet during the passage.
"And yet," explained their companion, "if you'd gone three yards to the
right or left your critters would have had to swim for their lives, and
you'd have had the worst soaking you ever knowed. Now fur the ranch!"