HARD LUCK
"Talk to me about your dreamers!" muttered Jerry, shrugging his
shoulders.
"But I tell you it was so!" asserted Bluff, firing up.
"The boy is right," said Mr. Mabie, as he stepped forward and fastened
his eyes upon the ground.
Frank saw immediately what the stockman had in mind. These things
mentioned by Bluff could never have happened without leaving some
tangible traces behind. Where a big elk had been slain there must be
signs of the blood that had flowed.
"Look here, and see for yourself, Jerry." And Mr. Mabie pointed to the
ground at his feet.
"There's some marks of hoofs around, I admit, and they seem to circle
about the tree, just as Bluff says; and--yes, that's blood on the
ground, as sure as you live! I guess I'm on the wrong track. He did
have a merry circus. He did shoot an elk, but where has the blooming
thing gone?" exclaimed the scoffer.
"That's just what I'm going to find out through Reddy, here. He has some
local reputation as a tracker. Put your nose down to it, and let us know
what happened, Reddy."
In accordance with the request of the ranchman, the cowboy threw himself
upon his hands and knees.
"Indians!" he announced, before they had taken half a dozen breaths.
"What?" cried Bluff, staring hard.
"Cree Indians been here. I can see the print of their moccasins plain as
day; and here's where they dragged the elk along, heading toward the
river!"
Reddy seemed to have not the slightest trouble in reading the signs, and
yet to the boys there was not the faintest vestige of marks. Presently,
however, Frank was able to make out the print of a foot in the soil, and
he noted that the one who made it wore no heels. His footwear must be
moccasins.
"H'm!" remarked Mr. Mabie. "Just what I suspected. The thieving Crees
have robbed our young friend of his prize. Too bad! But there are more
elk around, Bluff, and I hope you'll have other chances."
"But that one chased me so hard I wanted revenge. I calculated on eating
a bit of his flank for my dinner. What's the matter with our following
up the scamps, and making them give up some of my game, anyhow?"
demanded the disappointed hunter.
"Impossible just now. The river is close by, and they undoubtedly had
boats in which they fled, carrying off your elk. By this time they've
shot the rapids, and must be miles below. Possibly we may run across the
rascals later, when we also go down the river," replied Mr. Mabie.
Reddy had gone off, his head bent low, and they understood that he was
following the trail, much as a hound would have done, with this one
difference, that whereas a dog pursues by scent alone, the cowboy had to
depend on his eyes.
"But if game is so plentiful, why should these Crees want to steal my
elk?" pursued Bluff, who could not be easily satisfied.
"That bothers me to answer. Perhaps they happened to be out of
ammunition. There are several other explanations, but in my opinion the
most probable is the natural meanness of certain dusky bucks; just as
your able tramp refuses to do a lick of work, while he'll walk twenty
miles for nothing," smiled the other.
"There comes Reddy back. Perhaps he knows more about it now," said
Frank, who was decidedly interested in the enigma.
They waited until the cowboy joined the circle about the tree.
"Boats, Reddy?" asked Mr. Mabie.
"Three. Must have carried around the falls without our knowing it. Hung
about here, waiting to steal something from our camp. Had a snare set
for jack-rabbits. Saw some torn skins in the camp," was what the cowboy
replied, in his jerky way.
"Oh! Then I guess they must have been here before we came, and all you
say makes me believe I was right. They have no arms, or else their
powder and shot have run out; and for some reason they are afraid to
meet whites. Well, the elk's gone, and we can't mend that. Let's return
to camp. You have the tail to show for your little adventure, my lad."
"Yes, sir; and the memory of it all, which will haunt me for a good long
time," said Bluff, with a shake of his head, as he contemplated the
historic tree around which he had done a little Marathon.
"But I mean to get a picture of this tree, anyhow, just to remind Bluff
how valuable a good pair of sprinting legs may be sometimes," laughed
Will.
And he did, with Bluff standing alongside; for once the official
photographer demanded a pose, he was bound to get it, or throw up his
job, for such was the law of the Rod, Gun and Camera Club.
Then they retraced their steps to the camp, Frank more than usually
thoughtful, for anything in the shape of a mystery always set him to
puzzling, and he more than once wondered whether they would ever learn
just why those Crees stole the elk Bluff had downed after so much
trouble.
"How many did there seem to be?" he asked Reddy, a little later.
"You mean of the thieving reds? I counted nine in all, four bucks, two
squaws and three pappooses," replied the other.
"But if I understand rightly, these Indians never take their families
when they go on the war-path. Is that so, Reddy?" Frank asked quickly.
"Say, get that notion out of your head right away. They ain't no Crees
lookin' for trouble these days. My idea is just this: This is a family
travelin' acrost country, for some reason or other. P'raps they got
kicked out of their pesky old village. I've knowed such things to
happen. Then they run short of meat, and didn't have guns or powder.
Under such conditions any redman would steal."
"Well, who could blame them, with women and children to feed? I guess
you hit the nail on the head that time, Reddy. Glad to think that way,
too. We can spare the elk, and it will spur Bluff on to other hunting
deeds. He's had a taste now, and the fever will work on him."
Meanwhile, Jerry had started his fishing below the cataract. There were
places just at the end of the foam-splashed outlet of the big pool where
they had seen noble trout jumping, and it was here he dropped his flies.
After trying them a short time, and ascertaining that the trout paid
little attention to the feathery lure, practical Jerry actually
descended to the plebian angleworm, though he blushed when Frank came
over to watch him.
"Got to have some for supper, you know," he remarked. "Now, if I was
only doing this thing for the sport, nothing could tempt me to use live
bait. I'm at it in the strict commercial sense this time."
"I understand; and Jerry, let me tell you, the sportsman who, when
trout-hungry, refuses to go back to first principles, and use grubs and
worms after the fish refuse the fly, is to be pitied, that's all,"
laughed Frank.
"Hey! That's a dandy, all right! See him jump, will you? Wow! He's all
of two pounds, and as strong as an ox! I hope the leader holds. It's
been frayed some by rubbing over rocks in the past. Please pick up that
landing-net and attend to the beauty, if I can coax him close enough,
Frank."
Frank landed not only that beauty, but several more, ere he wandered off
to do something else. Jerry kept on fishing until he could not get
another bite, by which time he had quite a nice string of the speckled
beauties.
"Perhaps enough for a decent meal; though if Bluff develops his usual
appetite, the rest of us would go hungry. I wonder if a fellow mightn't
have some luck up above the falls? Guess I'll make a shift to try," he
said to himself.
The last view he had of the camp showed him Reddy amusing Bluff by
making flying tosses of his rope and lassoing all sorts of objects, from
the hat on the head of the admiring witness, to something tossed up in
the air.
Jerry labored up the hillside until he finally came to where he could
look down at the water as it shot over the edge. It fell with a great
deal of noise, striking the rocks below in many places with terrific
force.
"Ugh! It would just about bang a fellow to pieces to drop over there,"
he remarked, commencing to move upstream, looking for a promising place
to begin his fishing operations.
Presently he discovered a log that jutted out over the swift current.
From this outlook he believed he could allow his bait to float down into
an eddy that looked as though it might be the home of a big hermit
trout.
Jerry tested the log as he cautiously advanced. He realized that he was
taking some chances in creeping out to its furthest end, but so far as
he could ascertain it seemed to be firm enough.
Straddling the log, he started to get his baited hook in motion. The
wriggling worms sank a little in the swirl. At first, he was unable to
just master the difficult problem of how to influence the bait to float
into the eddy. Twice he failed to accomplish this, but studying the
rushing stream a little, he fancied that by a certain throw in the start
he could gain his end.
Sure enough, it worked, and like a charm. The baited hook was drawn back
into the foam-flecked eddy, and he saw it vanish from view. Then came a
most tremendous jerk, that almost caused him to lose his balance and
the log to quiver, with sickening possibilities.
But Jerry glued his legs against the sides, just as he had been told to
do with a refractory pony, and managed to recover his balance. The trout
was a gamey one, and the swiftness of the current made the task of
securing him doubly hard.
"I'll work, all right, for everything I hook here," panted Jerry, after
ten minutes had passed, and he tossed his exhausted prize over to the
bank.
But he would not give up. Where one such fine, fat fellow held out there
was certainly a chance for more, so he continued his fishing.
Unknown to him, Will had also wandered up that steep hillside, searching
for a new view of the wonderful cataract. Pushing through the dense
thickets, he chanced to catch a glimpse of the lone fisherman.
"Now, that's what I call a picturesque sight! Look at the chap perched
out on the very end of that log, with the water rushing below like a
mill-race! Here's where I get you, my duck. Fancy to what ends a
fisherman will go in order to enjoy his favorite sport."
Will seemed to forget entirely that he was willing to undertake just as
long a pilgrimage and buck up against as difficult problems simply to
get one snapshot that appealed to his soul.
"There! He's got another fish on! My! How it pulls! I wouldn't be out on
that log, doing such a job, for anything. But I just bet Jerry is as
happy as a clam. He sets his teeth, and holds on as if he had a whale,
and perhaps it is a big un! I must get him again in that position. Why,
although he don't know it, he's just giving me the best thing of the
day!"
Will rapidly adjusted his camera, and looked down to see that he had the
proper focus before snapping the shutter. The light was good up there,
and he believed he must have the greatest success with such a picture as
that. Besides, it had the genuine article of life in it, which he always
sought in taking his views.
Then he pressed his finger, in the belief that he was about to snatch a
snapshot bound to give the four chums the keenest satisfaction in days
to come.
"Oh!"
The startled exclamation broke involuntarily from the lips of Will even
at the very second he took his picture, and he let his beloved camera
fall to the ground, at the risk of doing it some material damage.
It was not this seeming mishap that had brought the startled cry from
his lips, but the crash of sundering wood, and the sudden disappearance
of the lone fisherman below the rim of the river bank; for the log had
finally betrayed Jerry, and dropped him into that swirling, maddening
current above the high falls!