A TOUGH STORY.
Several miles distant, in the heart of a dense pine forest, was the
camp-fire of a party of Indians. Old Ruff, taking the glass, saw by its
aid the smoke making its way through the tree-tops; but he bestowed
hardly a glance upon it, for he was in search of more important parties.
Turning the instrument toward the banks of the river, it was not many
minutes before he descried two men, making their way among the rocks
and undergrowth in the direction of the point indicated as the one from
which the lads had made their exit.
The clumps of bushes, huge rocks, and here and there a few trees,
intervened so frequently, and the men were picking their way with so
much caution, that it was only now and then Old Ruff was able to get
a fair look at them; but he succeeded in discovering that both were
white men, dressed somewhat like Indians, and he was able also to keep
himself informed of the general direction taken by them. When still
several hundred yards from the river, they halted. Old Ruff could see
it was near some shrubbery, which concealed their movements and hid
them from his view.
He held the glass pointed fully ten minutes toward them, but still they
remained invisible.
“That’s the spot!” he exclaimed to himself, as he lowered the
instrument, and looked at it sharply with the unaided eye, until he
felt he had fixed it in his memory. “There’s the door to one of the
cellars where Oregon has stored something rich, and into which Old Ruff
Robsart means to take a peep one of these days.”
Nothing remained now to be done but to resume their journey toward
their own lodge, and the three descended the ridge, Old Robsart taking
the lead and the boys following silently. A half-hour later they
reached the stream, beside which Little Rifle was walking when we
introduced him to our readers in the first chapter. Here a canoe was
drawn from its concealment, and the three entered and were paddled
across by Old Ruff, who was in an especially good-natured and humorous
mood.
When they once more placed their feet upon _terra firma_, he took great
care to conceal the boat, so that it would not be likely to attract the
eye of any one unless he stumbled directly upon it.
“I used to cut my name on my boats,” he said in explanation, “so that
the varmints could know what chap they belonged to, and consequently
what trouble he’d get into if he ran away with ’em; but you see the
varmints ain’t well up in their eddycation, and I s’pose they sometimes
thought it was thar names instead of mine. Leastways they run off with
so many of ’em that it bu’sted me for a time, and arter that I’ve made
it a practice to hide ’em.”
“Hide whom?” asked Harry, with a laugh--“the canoes or the Indians?”
“Both, whenever I got the chance, but thar’s one question I could never
settle in my mind, and you seem to be rather a cute chap, mebbe you kin
settle it for me.”
“I’ll do the best I can,” replied the lad; “let me hear what it is.”
“A couple of years ago thar was a Government expedition sent out here,
and they engaged me as scout and hunter for ’em. They had a couple of
india-rubber boats with ’em, that had a powerful stretchiness in ’em.
They used to roll ’em up when they was in camp, and play football with
’em, and then stretch ’em out for tents at night. So you see they war
mighty handy any way you fixed it.”
“I’ve heard of them,” said Harry, “and I think if I had had one of them
when I went over the falls, I might have bounded out again. I’m sure
I’m bound to try it if I ever get the chance.”
“Wal, they tied ’em up one night, on the shore of a purty good-sized
stream, intending to cross over at daylight; but while all war asleep,
a Nez Perce Injin stole up and crawled into one. I s’pose he meant to
steal what he could lay his hands on, and the first thing he grabbed
was a whisky bottle. One snuff of that settled his hash, and he never
stopped guzzling till he had swallered the last drop, by which time
he was so drunk he couldn’t set up, so he tumbled over into the bottom
of the boat and went to sleep. I happened to be on the watch on the
other side the camp, and the feller that was guardin’ here didn’t hear
nothin’ of what was goin’ on.
“Something or other was the matter with the boat. I s’pose like as not
it wasn’t fastened as it orter been, fur the current worked it loose,
and about a couple of hours afore daylight it went off down-stream.
“Of course in the mornin’ we found out what had happened, and I see’d,
too, how it had come to git loose, and a couple of us started on a
hunt arter it. We found it about three miles down the river, where it
had cotched fast ag’in’ the limb of a tree, and we got in and tried to
paddle it back. The Nez Perce was still sound asleep, and we took him
along.
“But that was the greatest job I ever undertook,” added Old Ruff, with
a sigh. “At the first off I sot down in the bow, and begun to paddle. I
thought I was gittin’ along powerful well, but when I turned my head I
found the starn hadn’t budged a bit. It had jist staid whar it was when
we started, and the blamed thing was jist stretching out--stretching
out.”
“And you want me to tell why it did so?” said Harry; “the rear of the
boat must have remained fast in the limbs of the tree.”
“I knowed that as well as you do, but that ain’t the question at all.
I’ll come to that bimeby. I unfastened the cotch, and then squatted in
the starn and paddled harder than ever. I worked so hard, that I kept
the rear part goin’ faster than the forrard, so that now and then I hit
my nose ag’in the prow. That made it bulge into the qu’arest kind of
shapes, and it bounced about so much that I didn’t git along very fast.
But at last, I reached camp, whar thar was a good deal of fun when they
found we had brought the Injin back with us. Some wanted to skulp him
on the spot, but Colonel Stebbins said no. He hadn’t committed murder,
but he had been cotched at burglary, and we should try ’im on that
charge.
“So they got up what they called a court-martial, the colonel himself
acting as boss--”
“Judge Advocate, he is called,” interrupted Harry, who was becoming
quite interested in the narration.
“That’s it, and they had their lawyers, or whatever you’ve a mind to
name ’em, and the Injin was fotched up. By that time he had worked
off most of the whisky. He wasn’t sober, not by no means, but he was
just drunk enough to be independent and sassy, and he was the smartest
red-skin I ever sot eyes on. He could talk English as well as we, and
he understood what they war drivin’ at from the fust.
“When they axed him to pick out a lawyer, he shook his head, and said
he could lie as fast as any lawyer. That made ’em all laugh, and I
could see that they didn’t mean to hurt the varmint. If he’d been a
Blackfoot it would have gone hard with him, for they had bothered us a
good deal; but the Nez Perces had never troubled us afore, and they’re
a much better set of people anyway.
“I never could understand what made that red-skin so smart,” said Old
Ruff, with a wondering shake of his head, “it beat my ca’clations all
holler.”
“I don’t see any thing particularly smart in what he did,” said Harry,
“unless it may have been that he got hold of a bottle of whisky before
you did. I suppose it takes a smart man to do that.”
Old Robsart looked down upon the impudent lad, with one of his most
patronizing grins. He felt that he was a sharp one, and he liked him
all the better for it.
“It’s a pity we hadn’t _you_ there,” he said; “if we had, things would
have gone different, but nobody was around as cute as you.”
“Let us hear how the trial resulted, and I beg pardon for my ill
manners.”
“Wal, Colonel Stebbins was a big, fat, jolly chap, and he see’d the fun
ahead. So he had the red-skin fotched up afore him, and he read a paper
full of big-sounding words, that I don’t b’l’eve he understood himself;
but when he got through he told the varmint that he was accused of
running away with a boat that belonged to the United States, and he
axed him what he had got to say in his defense.
“The red-skin give a hiccup or two, and then said he didn’t run away
with the boat at all. That he got into it to take a nap, and when he
woke up, he found it had run away with him, and he thought the Great
Father of the red-men in Washington orter send him some presents for
the outrage he had suffered.
“Wal, when he said that, thar was a screech through the camp, that
almost lifted the ha’r off my head and Colonel Stebbins shook so
hard, that the top of the barrel he was sittin’ on broke through,
and droppin’ a couple of feet down into it, he got wedged so fast he
couldn’t get out. While two or three of his officers was tryin’ to pull
him and the barrel apart, the Injin gave the hoops a whack with his
tomahawk, that made the staves fly apart, and let him out ag’in.
“When things had got sobered down a little, the colonel put him on his
trial for stealing a bottle of whisky, and I’ll be shot ef he didn’t
deny it right squar’, and then ax the officer to prove it on him. Who
see’d him do it? Whar was the man? He axed him to be fotched. That was
another stunner, and all Colonel Stebbins could do, when he got over
laughin’, was to ax the red-skin, whar he got the liquor that made
him drunk, and that all could smell on him that minute. With another
hiccup, he said that wasn’t nobody’s business, and he’d see ’em all
hanged fust, and then he turned round and axed the colonel whar he got
the whisky that _he_ got drunk on.
“That turned the laugh on him, and fur fifteen minutes, the other
officers rolled over on the ground, and the colonel had to hold his
sides to keep from bu’stin’. When he got things kind of quieted down,
he told the red-skin that the charges wa’n’t sustained and he might go;
but afore he left camp, the officers gave him a half-dozen blankets, a
new rifle, ammunition, beads, trinkets till he could hardly carry ’em
all. You see he had got the best of ’em all so well, that they liked
him, and war willing to do any thing in the world for him.”
“And was that the last you heard of him?” asked Little Rifle.
“Not by a long shot; that night the confounded scamp stole into camp,
run off two of the best horses we had, and come powerful near scalping
Colonel Stebbins himself.”
“What was it that prevented?”
“The colonel wore a wig, and when the Nez Perce grabbed his hair,
you see it come off without using his knife. So he stuck a couple of
eagle-feathers in the top, and set on the head of one of the mules, and
then skedaddled. I’ve always ’spicioned that that Injin had white blood
in him.”
“His stealing the whisky bottle looks very much like it. Was _that_ the
question you wished me to settle?” asked Harry.
“No; I come near forgettin’ it. What I wanted to ask was, whether in
law that varmint run away with the boat, or whether it run away with
him. I’ve often thought of it since, but have never been able to make
out which way it would be. How do you think it would be decided down in
Fr’isco?”
Harry Northend was not a little amused at the intense seriousness
of Old Ruff, as he referred the question to him. It was not to be
supposed, however, that his head was very clear upon such knotty
points, and he frankly admitted his inability to decide.
“I’ll put the question to some of them chaps down in Fr’isco the first
time I’m there, and stop bothering my head over the blamed thing.”
“Be sure and put the question to two separate ones,” said Harry, “first
giving each ten dollars.”
“What fur?”
“Because one will decide the Indian guilty, and the other will decide
him innocent. Thus you will get satisfaction from one of them at least,
no matter how you look at it yourself. You will pay your money, and can
take your choice.”
“Here we are at home!” exclaimed Little Rifle.