HOW IT ALL ENDED.
At last the clothing of Jack Dudley was dried, and he felt thoroughly
comfortable in body. While he was employed in the pleasant task, Hank
Hazletine went away in quest of food. It took time and hard work to find
it, but his remarkable skill as a hunter enabled him to do so, and when
he returned he brought enough venison to serve for the evening and
morning meal. No professor of the culinary art could have prepared the
meat more excellently than he over the bed of live coals. The odor was
so appetizing that the youth was in misery because of his impatience,
but the guide would not let him touch a mouthful until the food was done
"to the queen's taste." Then they had their feast.
And yet the two were oppressed by thoughts of the absent one. The
attempts of his friends during the day to help or to get trace of Fred
Greenwood had been brought to naught, and it looked as if they would
have to consent to the humiliating terms of Tozer and Motoza, with
strong probability that the missing youth was never again to be seen
alive.
"I think, Hank," said Jack, when the cowman had lit his pipe, "that we
should run no more risks."
"How can we help it?"
"When you meet Tozer to-morrow morning by appointment, tell him the
price he asks will be paid, but everything must be square and above
board."
The guide looked at his companion a moment in silence. Then he said:
"If you'll turn the matter over in your mind, younker, you'll see that
this bus'ness can't be put through without giving the scamps the chance
to swindle us the worst sort of way. They won't give up the boy on our
promise to pay 'em the money and no questions asked, for they don't
b'leve we'll do it; so we've got to give 'em the money and trust to
their honor to keep their part. Trust to their _honor_," repeated Hank,
with all the scorn he could throw into voice and manner; "as if they
knowed what it means."
"I know from what you have said that Tozer and Motoza are cunning,
but----"
In order to receive all the warmth possible, Jack Dudley was sitting
within the cavern and facing outward, while his companion faced him,
with his back toward the plateau and mountains beyond. Jack suddenly
broke off his remark, for in the gloom behind the cowman he saw
something move. That something quickly took the form of a white-faced,
exhausted youth trudging painfully forward and ready to sink to the
ground with weakness.
"Heavens! can it be?" gasped Jack, half-rising to his feet and staring
across the camp-fire. The next moment, and while Hazletine was looking
in the same direction, as astounded as the youth, the elder made one
bound and was at the side of Fred Greenwood, whom he caught in his arms
as he sagged downward in a state of utter collapse.
In the course of the following hour everything was made clear. Under the
tender ministrations of Jack Dudley and Hank Hazletine the returned
wanderer recovered to a great degree his strength, and to the fullest
degree his naturally buoyant spirits. The faint odor of the broiling
meat which lingered in the air awoke his ravenous appetite, but knowing
how long he had been without food, the cowman would not permit him to
eat more than a tithe of what he craved. After a time he gave him more,
until his appetite was fairly well satisfied.
"Jack," said Fred, with something of his old waggishness, as he looked
across the fire into the face of his comrade, "let's go home."
"You forget that we have a month's vacation, and it is hardly half gone.
We can stay another week and then be sure of being back to school in
time. You lamented more than I because we could not have a longer
play-spell. Your sentiments have changed."
The younger lad pointed to his feet.
"There's the reason. If I were like you I shouldn't think of leaving
this delightful country until the last day; but I shall need all the
vacation to get on my feet again. Do you comprehend?"
"Yes; your demonstration is logical. True, you have lost your rifle and
pistol, the same as myself, but we could get others at the ranch, and no
doubt meet with plenty more enjoyable adventures, but not as you are. I
shall be very willing to start home with you to-morrow morning. What do
you think of it, Hank?"
"I'm blamed sorry this bus'ness has to wind up as it does, but there's
no help fur it, and we'll leave fur the ranch after breakfast."
"Will you keep your appointment with Tozer?"
"I've been thinking of that; yes, I'll meet him."
There was a peculiar intonation in these words that caused both boys to
look into that bearded face, but they could not be sure of his meaning.
It was Fred who spoke:
"Hank, there is one matter as to which I cannot feel certain; I want
your opinion of it."
"Wal, I'm listening."
"After Motoza forced me into the cavern at the side of the canyon he
went off and has not returned yet, unless he did so after I left. Now,
why didn't he go back?"
"Why should he go back? He felt sartin there was no way fur you to git
out, and if I'd been told that your only chance was to climb the wall
I'd 'greed with him, though you struck the spot where I done it myself."
"He must have known I hadn't a mouthful of food?"
"He couldn't help knowing it."
"The question in my mind is this: what he said to me, as well as what
you have told, proves that he understood the whole scheme of my being
ransomed. Tozer must have known where I was; he knew that to bring the
ransom business to a head would require several days, even with the use
of the telegraph; they expected me to stay in the cavern all the time.
How long would they have left me there without bringing me anything to
eat?"
"They'd never brought you anything."
"Then when the time came to surrender me to my friends I should have
been dead."
The cowman nodded his head.
"There ain't no doubt of that."
"And they couldn't have carried out their part of the agreement."
"Which the same they knowed."
"But it seems unreasonable. It would have placed both in peril, from
which I cannot see how it was possible for them to escape. If they gave
me up after receiving the money they would be safe against punishment.
Why, then, should they place themselves in such great danger when they
had nothing to gain and all to lose by doing so? That is what I can't
understand, and I am sure my brain has become clearer."
It was the same view of the question that had puzzled Jack Dudley, and
the two boys listened with interest to the explanation of the veteran.
"Tozer of himself would turn you over sound in limb and body; but, since
it was the Sioux who done all the work, as you have showed us, Bill had
to make a sort of compromise with the villain, and that compromise was
that you should be left with Motoza till the hour come fur you to be
produced. That was the price Bill had to pay Motoza fur what he done. It
wasn't Tozer, but the Sioux, that was fixing things so as to starve you
to death."
The cowman spoke with a deliberation and seriousness that left no doubt
he believed every word uttered, and the boys were convinced he was
right.
"Bill is as mean as they make 'em," added Hazletine, "but he'd rather
grab a pile of money than kill a chap he don't like. It's t'other way
with the Sioux. He likes money well 'nough, fur he knows it'll buy
firewater, but the sweetest enjoyment he can have is to revenge himself
on a person he hates, and from what I've heard he hates you as hard as
he knows how."
"There is no doubt of that," said Jack; "I shall never forget the
expression of his face when Fred made him give up my rifle."
Fred was thoughtful a moment, and then asked:
"Hank, what do you mean to do about Tozer?"
"Wal, until I larned your story I was fixed to shoot him on sight."
"But what of the agreement you would have to make before he gave me up?"
"I'd kept that the same as the other folks, but it wouldn't be long
afore I'd git a chance to pick a quarrel with him over other matters,
and then it would be him or me; and," added the cowman, with a grim
smile, "I don't think it would be me."
"Do you still hold to that resolve?"
"I can't say that I do. I don't see that Bill meant any hurt except to
make some money out of you, and he couldn't help taking chances on that.
If he could have had his way he'd turned you over to us as well as when
you left; so I think I'll wait to see what his next trick is to be afore
I draw a bead on him. I'll take another plan--I'll give him the laugh."
"Give him the laugh!" repeated the wondering Jack Dudley; "what do you
mean by that?"
"I'll meet him here to-morrer morning, and, after we've talked a while,
let him see you or know how things stand, and then I'll just laugh at
him till I drop to the ground and roll over on my back. Won't he feel
cheap?"
The conceit was so odd that both boys smiled.
"That certainly is a curious way to punish a man for doing a wrong. It
seems to me that, since he had so much to do with abducting Fred, he
ought to be arrested, tried, and punished. He should be made to suffer
for his crime."
Hank showed his hard sense by replying:
"I don't deny that, but there's no way of punishing him. He hasn't done
a thing fur which you could make the court say he's guilty. The younker
there that spent more time than he liked in the canyon has never even
seed Bill Tozer. What reason, then, has he fur saying Bill had anything
to do with the bus'ness?"
"Didn't he admit as much to you?"
"Not a word! He give himself away in his talk, but whenever he said
anything 'bout things he reminded me it was all guesswork."
"Could not Motoza be made to swear against him?"
"He might, and he might not. If he did, why, Bill would swear t'other
way, and make it look as if he was trying to play the friend for the
younker. It would be like some folks, after the thing was over,
proposing to buy Bill a gold medal fur showing himself such a good and
noble man. No; my plan is best. When I give him the laugh he'll feel
worse than if he was sent up fur ten years."
"It looks as if there is no other way of punishing him," remarked Fred;
"but the case is different with Motoza."
"Wal, _rather_!"
It would be impossible to convey a true idea of the manner of Hank
Hazletine when he uttered these words. He nodded his head, clinched his
free hand, and his eyes seemed to flash fire.
"Do you mean to kill him, Hank?"
"O, no," was the scornful response; "I'm going to take his hand and tell
him how much I love him. I'll wipe the paint off one cheek, so as to
make room fur a brotherly kiss. I'll send him to your folks, that you
may have him for a playmate. He'll be so sweet and nice among the little
younkers. _That's_ what I'll do with dear Motoza!"
It was impossible not to read the terrible purpose that lay behind all
this. The boys made no mistake. Jack Dudley shuddered, but was silent.
He knew the miscreant richly merited the threatened retribution, and yet
he wished it were not impending.
Surely, if anyone was justified in calling down vengeance upon the head
of the vagrant Sioux it was his victim--he who had felt his hatred, and
whose physical sufferings must remind him of the same for weeks to come.
But Fred Greenwood was in a gracious and forgiving mood. His heart
throbbed when he recalled what he had so recently passed through, but he
could not lose sight of the blessed fact that he _had_ passed through it
all. He was with his beloved comrade again, not much the worse for his
experience. In truth he was a little homesick, and was stirred with
sweet delight at the thought that, if all went well, he should be with
his parents within the coming week.
And yet he was oppressed by the thought that one of the results of his
short visit to Wyoming was to be the death of a human being. He was sure
he could never shake off the remembrance, and should he ever wish to
return in the future to renew his hunt under more favorable conditions,
the memory would haunt him. It mattered not that the wretch deserved to
be executed for the crime, in the commission of which he had been
interrupted before he could complete it. He was a savage, a heathen, a
barbarian, who was following the light as he understood it. Why,
therefore, should not mercy be shown to him?
There are many things which Jack Dudley and Fred Greenwood have done
during their youthful lives that are creditable to them, but there is
none which gives the two greater pleasure than the remembrance of the
moral victory gained in their argument with Hank Hazletine. Fred opened
the plea, and his comrade quickly rallied to his help. Their aim was to
convince their guide that it was wrong for him to carry out his purpose
regarding the Sioux. That the fellow should be punished was not to be
questioned, but it should be done in a legitimate way and by the
constituted authorities. Hazletine insisted that the conditions were
such that Motoza would never be thus punished, at least not to the
extent he ought to be; therefore, it was the duty of Hazletine to attend
to the matter himself.
The argument lasted for two hours. The boys were able, bright and
ingenious, but they had _truth_ on their side, and by and by the grim
cowman showed signs of weakening. What knocked the props from under him
was the fact which he was compelled to admit that the Sioux was only
following the teachings he had received from infancy; that he lacked the
light and knowledge with which Hazletine had been favored; that it was
the duty of the white people to educate, civilize and Christianize the
red men, who have been treated with cruel injustice from the very
discovery of our country.
It cannot be said that the guide yielded with good grace, but yield he
did, and the victory was secured. He pledged the boys not to offer any
harm to Motoza for his last crime, and indeed would never harm him,
unless it should become necessary in self defence.
"But I s'pose you hain't any 'bjection to my giving the laugh to Bill?"
he said, with ludicrous dismay; "there ain't nothing wrong in _that_, is
there?"
"Nothing at all," replied the pleased Fred; "we shall enjoy it as much
as you."
"Which the same being the case, it's time you went to sleep; I'll keep
watch and call you when I git ready."
Bidding their friend good-night, the boys wrapped themselves in their
blankets and speedily sank into slumber.
The kind-hearted guide did not disturb either, and when they opened
their eyes the sun was in the sky. Fred Greenwood was in a bad shape
with his swollen and lacerated feet, but his naturally rugged frame
recovered rapidly from the trying strain to which it had been subjected.
He proved that his appetite was as vigorous as ever, and was eager to
reach the ranch with the least possible delay. Hank promised him no time
should be wasted.
A lookout was kept for Bill Tozer, the boys remaining in the cavern,
where they could not be seen. There was the possibility, of course, that
the man had learned of the escape of the young prisoner, but all doubt
was removed when, at the appointed time, he appeared on the edge of the
plateau and strode confidently to the point where Hazletine, just
outside the cavern, awaited his coming.
The two shook hands and immediately got down to business. The scamp felt
that he commanded the situation and he was disposed to push matters.
"I've been thinking over what you said yesterday," remarked the guide,
"and have made up my mind that I can't do it."
"You can't, eh? It's the only thing you _can_ do; Motoza insists that
the price shall be ten thousand dollars, but I'll stick by the original
agreement and call it half that sum."
"Let me see," said the cowman, thoughtfully; "you promise to give us
back the younker safe and sound, provided his friends hand you five
thousand dollars?"
"That's it; you understand the whole business. You know, of course,
Hank, that I'm only acting as the friend----"
"Don't git over any more of that stuff, Bill. Are we to give you the
money afore you produce the younker?"
"Certainly; that's the only way to do business."
"S'pose you bring him, and then I'll ask his folks if they want to make
you a present of five thousand dollars--how'll _that_ work?"
Tozer broke into laughter.
"You ought to be ashamed to talk such nonsense. The only way by which
you can see your young friend again is to hand us the money, give a
pledge not to ask any questions or try to punish Motoza or me----"
The jaw of the man suddenly dropped and he ceased speaking, for at that
moment he saw Jack Dudley and his limping companion walk out from the
cavern and smilingly approach.
The whole truth flashed upon him. He was outwitted as he had never been
outwitted before in all his life. Without speaking a syllable, he
wheeled around and started at a rapid stride across the plateau toward
the point where he had first appeared, with feelings which it is
impossible to imagine.
And didn't Hank Hazletine "give him the laugh?" He bent over with mirth,
staggering backward until he had to place his hand against the side of
the cavern to save himself from falling. It really seemed as if his
uproarious mirth must have penetrated a mile in every direction, and it
did not cease until some minutes after the discomfited victim had
disappeared. Jack and Fred laughed, too, until their sides ached; and
who shall deny that there was not full cause for their merriment?
An hour later, the ponies, saddled and bridled, were threading their way
out of the foot-hills for the ranch, which was reached without further
incident. There the boys remained several days until Fred had recovered
to a large extent from his hurts, when they rode to the station at Fort
Steele, where they shook hands with the honest Hank Hazletine and bade
him good-by.
And thus it came about that on the first Monday in the following
November Jack Dudley and Fred Greenwood were in their respective seats
at school, as eager and ambitious to press their studies as they had
been to visit Bowman's ranch, in Southwestern Wyoming, in which ranch,
by the way, they advised Mr. Dudley to retain his half-ownership.
"It's worth all it cost you, father," said Jack, "and perhaps one of
these days you will want the V. W. W. to go out and take another look at
it."
"Perhaps," was the dubious reply of the parent.