IN THE NICK OF TIME.
Leaving his mustang in charge of Fred, the Irishman turned to the right,
and followed the stream into the rocks. The course was so winding that he
speedily disappeared from sight. The boy, who was compelled to sit still
and await his return, at perhaps the most dangerous portion of the road,
felt anything but comfortable over the erratic proceeding of his friend.
But, fortunately, the latter had been gone but a short time when he
reappeared, hurrying forward as if somebody was at his heels.
"It's all right," he remarked, as he sprang into the saddle, took up the
reins, and started on. "I think the Apaches are there, though I can't be
sartin; but I found out what I wanted to l'arn."
Then he explained that he followed up the stream to the place where it
came from beneath the rocks, which formed a part of the wall of the cave,
where a curious fact attracted his attention. In its passage beneath the
stone the tunnel widened and flattened, so that, where it shot forth to
the sunlight again, its width was some twenty feet, and its depth only a
few inches. The appearance it presented was very much like that of the
gates of a mill-pond when they have been slightly raised to allow a
discharge of water beneath. Through the passage-way thus afforded no
living person could have forced his way; and, had Mickey O'Rooney
attempted it, nothing in the world could have saved him from drowning. The
Irishman himself realized it, and was thankful enough that he had
refrained from making the desperate attempt.
The two continued their sweeping gallop for several hours, during which
they did not catch a glimpse of Indians, but they were alarmed by hearing
the reports of guns at no great distance on the right. The firing was
irregular, sometimes several shots being heard together, and then they
were more of a dropping character. This showed that a fight of some kind
was going on, but as to its precise nature they could only conjecture. It
might be that a party of Comanches and Apaches, or Kiowas, or hunters were
enjoying a hot time, but the two friends were glad to get out of the
neighborhood as speedily as possible. At noon they enjoyed the
satisfaction of knowing that they had made good and substantial progress
on the way home. There was an abundance of grass and water, and when the
sun was overhead they went into camp.
"I'm as hungry as a panther that has been fasting for a month," said
Mickey, as he dismounted; "and I haven't got a mouthful of food lift.
There ain't any use of a chap starving to death to accommodate anybody
else, and I don't mane to do the same."
Fred Munson's hunger was scarcely less than his, but the boy would have
been willing to have undergone still more, rather than incur the risk that
was now inevitable. But Mickey saw nothing to be gained by such a course
and contended that they should give their attention to the wants of their
bodies, before they were weakened by fasting and fatigue.
Mickey promised not to be absent long, and then started in search of
provender. Game was abundant in that part of the world, and he was
confident that much time would not be required to bring down some
toothsome dainty.
"He has an uncomfortable way of running off and leaving a fellow alone,"
muttered Fred, as he watched the vanishing figure of his friend. "I
haven't anything but my revolver, and only two shots left in that, and it
seems to me that this is about the worst place we could stop."
The point where they camped was in the pass, which, at that point, widened
considerably. The right wall curved far inward in a semi-circular shape,
the opposite remaining the same, the gorge looking as if an immense slice
had been scooped out of its northern boundary. The rocks on every hand
ranged from a dozen to a hundred feet in height, with numerous openings,
through which a horseman could easily pick his way. The tops were covered
with vegetation, the greater portion of which was vigorous and dense.
Fred found himself standing in an immense amphitheatre, as one can imagine
how the gladiators of Rome stood in the Coliseum, when an audience of over
a hundred thousand were seated and looking down upon them. He could not
but note the helpless situation a party of men would be in if caught where
he was.
"If a company of United States Cavalry should camp here, and the Indians
opened on them from the rocks above, they would have to stand and be shot
down, one after another, or else run the gauntlet and be picked off in the
same way."
The appearance of the ground showed that the spot was a favorite
camping-site of the Indians. Fred, for a time, suspected that it was the
place where Lone Wolf and his band had spent the first night out from New
Boston; but an examination showed that it did not correspond in many
points. The remains of charred wood, of bleaching bones and ashes proved
that many a camp-fire had been kindled. And, in all probability, every one
of them had warmed the shins and toasted the food of the red cut-throats
of that section.
The two mustangs were tethered near one side of the space where there was
grass and water, and the lad set about it to select a proper place in
which to build their camp-fire. There was no trouble in determining this;
but, when he started to gather wood, he was surprised to discover that
there was much less than he supposed. The former tenants of the place had
cleared it up pretty thoroughly.
"There is plenty of wood over yonder," he said to himself, looking in the
direction taken by Mickey O'Rooney; "and where there is so much growing
there must be some upon the ground. I'll go over and gather some, and have
the fire all ready when he comes back."
It was quite a walk from where he stood to the side of the semicircular
widening of the pass, and as he went over it he was surprised to find it
greater than it appeared. When he picked his way between the rocks, and
began clambering among the trees and vegetation, he concluded that he was
fully two hundred yards from where the mustangs were grazing.
However, he did not allow himself to lose any time in speculation and
wonderment, but set to work at once to gather wood with which to kindle a
fire in readiness for the return of Mickey. There was enough around him to
afford all he needed and he was engaged in leisurely collecting an armful
when he was startled by the rattling of the leaves behind him.
The wood was dropped on the instant, and the alarmed lad wheeled about to
face his new danger. Instead of two or three Indians, as he had
anticipated, he saw an enormous grizzly bear, about a dozen feet in the
rear, coming directly toward him, with very little doubt of his purpose.
Fred had no thought of anything of this character, and for a time he was
paralyzed with terror, unable to speak or stir. These precious seconds
were improved by the huge animal, which continued lumbering heavily
forward toward the boy. Bruin had his jaws apart and his red tongue
lolling out, while a guttural grunt was occasionally heard, as if the
beast was anticipating the crunching of the tender flesh and bones of the
lad.
Before the latter was within reach, however, he had recovered his usual
activity, and, with a bound and a yell of terror, Fred started in the
direction of the clearing, where he had left the mustangs, and where he
had intended to kindle the camp-fire. But the enormous, bulky creature,
although swinging along in his awkward fashion, still made good speed, and
gained so rapidly upon the boy that he almost abandoned hope of escape.
At this critical moment Fred thought of his revolver, and he whipped it
out in a twinkling. Whirling about, he took quick aim and discharged both
barrels almost in the face of the brute. Then, flinging the pistol against
his leather nose, he turned back and continued his flight at the utmost
bent of his speed. Both bullets struck the brute and wounded him, but not
fatally, nor, indeed, enough to check his advance.
[Illustration: WHIRLING ABOUT HE TOOK QUICK AIM.]
The grizzly bear, as found in his native wilds, is killed with extreme
difficulty, and the only thing that seemed to affect the monster in the
present instance was the flash of the pistol in his eyes. He paused, and,
rearing on his hind legs, snorted, snuffed, and pawed his nose as if the
bullets were splinters which he was seeking to displace. Then, with an
angry growl, he dropped on all fours and resumed his pursuit of the author
of his confusion and hurts. The wounds incensed the brute, and he plunged
along at a faster rate than before, gaining so rapidly that there could be
no doubt as to the result.
Being without any weapon at all, there seemed but one hope for Fred, and
that was to reach his mustang in time to mount and avail himself of his
speed. For a hundred feet or so he ran down a rapid slope, between the
trees and rocks, until he reached the camping site, where he had a run of
a couple of hundred yards across a comparatively level plain to reach the
point where his animal was awaiting him.
In going down this wooded slope, the smaller size of the boy gave him
considerable advantage. Yet, so well did the grizzly succeed that he
reached the spot less than twenty feet in his rear, and, heading directly
for him, at once proceeded to decrease the distance still further. This
placed the question of escape by superior speed upon the part of the lad
as among the impossibilities, and it began to look very much as if his
race were run.
At this juncture, as if all the fates had combined against him, Fred,
while glancing backward over his shoulder, stumbled and fell. He sprang up
as hastily as possible, but the loss of ground was irreparable. As he
looked back he saw that the colossal beast was so close that it seemed
that one sweep of his paw would smite the terrified fugitive from the face
of the earth.
It was a critical moment indeed, and the crack of the rifle from the wood,
which the pursuer and pursued had just left, was not a breath of time too
soon. Aimed by one who knew the vulnerable points of such a creature, and
by someone whose skill was unsurpassed, the leaden messenger crashed its
way through bone and muscle to the seat of life. The brute, which was
ready to fall upon and devour the young fugitive, pitched heavily forward
and rolled upon the ground in the throes of death.
Fred did not realize his delivery until he had gone some distance further
and looked back and saw the black mass motionless upon the ground. After
some hesitation, he then turned and walked distrustfully back to where it
lay.
He found the beast stone-dead, a rill of blood from beneath the fore-leg
showing where some one's bullet had done the business. The lad recalled
the sound of the gun which had reached his ear.
"That was the best shot for me that Mickey ever made," he muttered,
looking around for his friend.
But he was nowhere to be seen.
"Mickey must always have his fun," added Fred after failing to detect him.
"Instead of coming out at once and letting me know how he came to do it,
he fires the lucky shot, and then waits to see how I will act. My
gracious! he is a bouncer!"
This last remark was excited by the carcass, which he kicked, and which
shook like a mountainous mass of jelly; and as he passed around it he
gained a fair idea of the immense proportions of the bear, in whose grasp
he would have been as helpless as in that of a royal Bengal tiger.
"Whew! but he came mighty close to me! When I fell down I expected to feel
his paws on me before I could get up. In a few seconds more it would have
been all up with me."
Several minutes passed, and nothing was seen of the Irishman, whereupon
the lad concluded he might as well go back and gather the wood, which
would be needed at the camp-fire.
"I wonder if there's any more of them," he muttered, as he began picking
his way among the rocks. "If there are, why Mickey must look out for me."
He found the sticks just as he had thrown them down and he proceeded to
regather them, keeping a careful watch for another dangerous visitor. All
remained quiet, however, and, making his way down the wooded slope into
the open area, he looked back and found that he was still alone. So it
continued until he returned to where the two mustangs were tethered. There
he carefully adjusted the sticks and prepared everything, after which he
began to feel some impatience at the non-appearance of his friend.
"He must see more fun in that kind of thing than I do. There's no telling
what has become of those six Apaches we left down in the cave. I feel sure
that they've got above ground again. It won't take long for them to find
their mustangs, or some other horses, and they may be a mile away, and
there may be other parties close by. Halloa!"
Fred thought that he had no matches about his person; but he was making a
sort of aimless hunt when he found a solitary lucifer at the bottom of his
pocket. This he carefully struck against the rock behind him, and in a few
minutes the camp-fire was started and burning merrily.
As he sat down to wait he looked toward the point where the Irishman had
vanished from sight. There he was, bearing on his shoulders some choice
sections of a young antelope he had shot, although Fred recalled that he
had not heard the report of his gun, except when the grizzly was shot. As
Mickey came along over the same path taken by the boy, he was forced to
make a detour around the carcass of the bear. He paused to survey it, his
whole manner betraying great astonishment, as if he had never beheld
anything of the kind. He walked around the body several times, punched it
with his foot, and finally, grasping his twenty pounds of meat in his
right hand, approached the camp-fire.
Here he at once began the preparations for broiling it. The antelope had
been of goodly size and he had cut out the most luscious portions, so as
to avoid carrying back any waste material. He had a great deal more than
both could eat, it is true, but it was a commendable custom with the
Irishman to lay in a stock against emergencies that were likely to arise.
While thus employed, it would have been impossible for Mickey to hold his
tongue.
"Begorrah, but it was queer, was the same, the way I came to cotch this
gintleman. I hunted him a little ways, when he made a big jump, and I
thought had got a long ways off, but when I came to folly him, I found he
had cornered himself among the rocks, where there was no show of getting
out, except by coming back on me. The minute I showed mesilf, he made a
rush for me arms, just as all the purty gals in Tipperary used to do when
I came along the street. An antelope can't do much, but I don't care about
their coming down on me in that style, and so I pulled up and let drive.
He was right on me when I pulled trigger, and he made one big jump that
carried him clear over my head, and landed him stone dead on the other
side."
"That was a good shot, but not as good as when you brought down the
grizzly bear at my heels."
Mickey O'Rooney was particularly busy just then with his culinary
operations, and he stared at the lad with an expression of comical
amazement that made the young fellow laugh.
"Begorrah, why don't ye talk sinse?" added Mickey, impatiently. "I've
heard Soot Simpson say that if ye only put your shot in the right spot, ye
don't want but one of 'em to trip the biggest grizzly that ever navigated.
I was going to obsarve that ye had been mighty lucky to send in your two
pistol-shots just where they settled the business, though I s'pose the
haythen was so close on ye whin ye fired that ye almost shoved the weapon
into his carcass."
"I shot him, Mickey, before I fairly started to run, but he didn't mind it
any more than if I spit in his face. It was your own shot that did the
business."
"Me own shot!" repeated Mickey, still staring with an astonished
expression. "I never fired any shot at the baste, and never saw him till a
few minutes ago, when I was coming this way."
It was Fred Munson's turn to be astonished, and he asked, in his amazed,
wondering way:
"Who, then, fired the shot that killed him? I didn't."
"I thought ye did the same, for it was not mesilf."
The lad was more puzzled than ever. He saw that Mickey was in earnest, and
was telling him the truth, and each, in fact, understood that _he_ had
been under a misapprehension as to who had slain the grizzly bear.
"The beast was right on me," continued Fred, "and I didn't think there was
any chance for me, when I heard the crack of a rifle from the bushes, and,
looking back, saw that the bear was down on the ground, making his last
kick."
Mickey let the meat scorch, while he stopped to scratch his head, as was
his custom when he was in a mental fog.
"Begorrah, but that is queer, as me mither used to obsarve when she found
she had not been desaved by belaving what we childer told her. There was
somebody who was kind enough to knock over the grizzly at the most
convanient season for ye, and then he doesn't choose to send over his card
wid his post-office address on."
"Who do you think it was, Mickey?"
"It must have been some red spalpeen that took pity on ye. Who knows but
it was Lone Wolf himself?"
Both looked about them in a scared, inquiring way, but could see nothing
of their unknown friend or enemy, as the case might be.
"I tell you, Mickey, that it makes me feel as if we ought to get out of
here."
"Ye're right, and we'll just swally some of this stuff, and then we'll
'light out."
He tossed the lad a goodly-sized piece of meat, which, if anything, was
overdone. Both ate more rapidly than was consistent with hygiene, their
eyes continually wandering over the rocks and heights around them, in
quest of their seemingly ever-present enemies, the Apaches. It required
but a few moments for them to, complete their dinner. Mickey, in
accordance with his custom, carefully folded up what was left, and, taking
a drink from the stream which ran near at hand, they sprang upon the backs
of their mustangs, and headed westward in the direction of New Boston,
provided such a settlement was still in existence by the grace of Lone
Wolf, leader of the Apaches.
"Now," said Mickey, whose spirits seemed to rise when he found himself
astride of his trusty mustang again, "if we don't have any bad luck, we
ought to be out of the mountains by dark."
"And after that?"
"Then a good long ride across the prairie, and we'll be back again wid the
folks."
"How glad I am that father isn't there, that he staid at Fort Aubray, for
when he comes along in a few weeks, he won't know anything about this
trouble till I tell him the whole story myself, and then it will be too
late for him to worry."
"Yes, I'm glad it's so, for it saams if I had a spalpeen of a son off wid
Lone Wolf, among the mountains, I'd feel as bad as if he'd gone in
swimming where the water was over his head. And then it will be so nice to
sit down and tell the ould gintleman about it, and have him lambaste ye
'cause you wasn't more respictful to Lone Wolf. All them things are
cheerful, and make the occasion very plisant. Begorrah, I should like to
know where that old redskin is, for Soot Simpson tells me that he is the
greatest redskin down in this part of the world. He's the spalpeen that
robbed a government train and made himself a big blanket out of the new
greenbaeks that he stole. Soot says that there isn't room on his
lodge-pole for half the scalps that he has taken. Bad luck to the
spalpeen, he will peel the topknot from the head of a lovely woman, or
swaat child, such as I used to be, as quick as he would from the crown of
a man of my size. He's an old riprobate, is the same, and Soot says he can
niver die resigned and at pace with all mankind till he shoots him."
"I'll be very glad to keep out of his way, if he'll keep out of mine. I
wonder why he didn't kill me when he had the chance, instead of keeping me
so long."
"I s'pose he meant to carry ye up where his little spalpeens live, and
turn ye over to them for their amusement."
"How could I amuse them?"
"There be a good many ways. They might have stuck little wooden pegs in
your hide, then set fire to 'em, and then walked ye round for fireworks;
or they might fill your ears with powder, and tech it off, and then
watched the iligant exprission of your countenance. Or they might lave set
ye to running up and down between two rows of 'em, about eight or ten
miles long, while aich stood with a big shillalah in his hand, and banged
ye over the head with it as ye passed. There be a good many ways,
according to what Soot told me, but that's enough to show ye that Lone
Wolf and his folks wouldn't have been at a loss to find delightful ways of
giving the little childher the innocent sport they must have."
"I shouldn't think they would, if that's the kind of fun they like,"
replied the horrified boy. "I've thanked the Lord hundreds of times that
He helped me get out of Lone Wolf's clutches, and my dread is that he may
catch us before we can get out of the mountain. I don't believe we could
find as good a chance as I did the other night."
"Ye're right; that thing couldn't happen ag'in. Lightning doesn't strike
twice in the same place; but we've got good horses, and if he don't pin us
up in the pass, I think our chance is as good as could be asked."
"That's what troubles me," said Fred, who was galloping at his side, and
who kept continually glancing from the tops of the rocks upon the right to
the tops upon the left. "You know there are Indians all over, and I wonder
that some of them haven't seen us already. S'pose they do, and they're
behind us, they can signal to somebody ahead, and the first thing we know,
they've got us shut in on both sides."
"That thing may happen," replied Mickey, who did not appear as
apprehensive as his young friend; "but I have the best of hope that the
same won't. I don't think Lone Wolf knows we're anywhere around here, and
before he can find out, I also hope we shall be beyond his raich."