WILLY HORSE SHOWS THE WAY
Elfreda laid a hand on Lieutenant Wingate's arm, then stepped between
him and the deputy, who had lowered his rifle a little, hesitating, it
appeared, whether to shoot and take his chances or to adopt the safer
course. The fact that he chose the latter, and made no further effort to
intimidate them with his weapon, was significant to Miss Briggs.
"Mister Man, I am a lawyer, and I will speak with you. I believe you
just said that we are all under arrest," reminded Elfreda in an ordinary
conversational tone.
"Ye are that, unless ye settle up," blustered the fellow.
"Then, of course, you have warrants. Have you?"
"Well, well, no, I reckon I hain't. Don't need none. I'm an officer of
the law. This is my warrant," he said, tapping the rifle.
"We have similar arguments, arguments that are fully as potent," replied
Miss Briggs significantly. "We decline to recognize any authority
unless backed by proper credentials. What county are you from, may I
inquire?"
"St. Louis County," grumbled the deputy.
"And your companion--is he from the same county?"
"Yes. Come! I ain't got time for per-laverin' around. Are ye goin' to
pay up or go with us?"
"Neither! You have no warrant; you have no proof that you are officers
of the law, and you admit that you are from St. Louis County. Grace,
what county are we now in?"
"Beltrami County," replied Grace Harlowe, who had been consulting her
map.
Miss Briggs nodded.
"Out of your jurisdiction, Mister Deputy! It might be in order for me to
suggest that you remove your persons from our camp," finished Elfreda in
the same even tone with which she had carried on the conversation
throughout.
"I'll see whether ye'll go with us or not!" raged the deputy.
"Joe!" called Hippy sharply. "If these rough-necks don't go _instanter_,
trim 'em right."
"Don't set Henry on them. They might hurt him," called Grace.
"Get out!" commanded Hippy.
The three men got, but before going they warned the Overland Riders that
they would have the law on them for shooting at officers in the
discharge of their duty.
In reply, Hippy waved a hand and grinned, and the men rode away rather
more rapidly than they had come into the camp.
"Great thought of yours, J. Elfreda," complimented Lieutenant Wingate.
"Elfreda uses her head, Hippy. How much better than flying into a rage
and threatening your enemy with dire things," reminded Grace.
"You don't always do that yourself," retorted Hippy. "Thanks, Joe. Had
it not been for you we might have had a disturbance."
"Aren't we ever going to have peace?" wailed Emma. "I know I shall have
nervous prostration at this rate."
"Cheer up. Let the voice of nature soothe your troubled spirits and rise
above such common things as mere officers of the law," comforted Hippy.
"What next?"
"Suppose we break camp and move," suggested Grace.
"Yes, yes; let's do so," urged Anne.
"Do you think they will come back, darlin'?" questioned Nora anxiously.
"Not before it is time for the swallows to build their nests under the
eaves."
Joe, muttering to herself, went out to fetch in her pack mules, June and
July, preparatory to loading the equipment on them for the start. Joe
was a little rougher with the animals than usual, and their ears, tilted
back at a sharp angle, indicated their resentment, but the guide was too
angry to notice this danger signal. A sharp slap on June's thigh to make
the animal step over was followed by a lightning-like flash of two tough
little mule heels, and Joe Shafto was lifted from her feet and hurled
against July, and then July began to kick.
The Overlanders, frightened for the safety of the guide, ran to assist
her, when, out of the mix-up, leaped the forest woman, her hair tumbled
down her back, and eyes blazing through the big horn-rimmed spectacles,
she having rolled under July and out of the way with amazing agility.
"I'll larn ye, ye beasts!" she shrieked, running for her club.
June felt the sting of it, and July grunted as the club descended on the
fleshy part of her hip, at the same instant shooting both hind feet into
the air; but this time Joe was out of reach.
"Here, here!" cried Hippy, springing forward to interfere. "We don't
permit any one to beat animals in this menagerie," he chided, grabbing
the woman's club.
"Leggo!" shrieked Joe, wrenching the club from his hands. "No man ain't
goin' to tell Joe Shafto what she kin do. Git out of here!" she raged,
advancing threateningly on Hippy. "I'll paste them mules when I want to,
and--"
"That's all right, old dear," soothed Hippy, backing up laughingly, but
Joe followed him, shaking the club before his face.
"Don't ye 'old dear' me. Mules is swine, and no better'n some men, and I
give ye notice no man ain't goin' to come 'tween me and my mules. I'll
paste 'em when I like, and I'll paste 'em like they did me, the
varmints, and I won't have no animile that walks like a man interferin'
'tween me and the mules and tellin' me what ter do. Git out of here
afore I give ye a wallop on the jaw, fer I'm goin' ter finish what I
begun on June, and her name'll be December when I git through, and don't
ye fergit it." Joe grabbed the mule by an ear, gave the animal a prod
with her club, then slapped June's face.
"Consarn ye, ye pore insect that's tryin to look like a hoss, but that
ain't even got the skin of one, I reckon ye'll be good arter this," she
finished, and threw a pack over the back of the now thoroughly subdued
pack-mule. "Git started, ye folks, and don't say nothin' to me, for I'm
li'ble to git mad arter the stirrin' up them mules give me."
"_Alors!_ Let's go," suggested Elfreda after the laughter of the
Overlanders had subsided.
They were on their way a short time later, laughing as they headed for
the section on which they hoped eventually to meet Tom, and make
permanent camp. The forest woman had never been in that part of the
woods, but, knowing the general direction, thought she could hold to it
and come out somewhere near the spot they desired to reach.
That night they lay down to sleep in the open, wrapped in their
blankets. For the week following the Overland Riders camped out in the
same way, and nothing occurred to mar the life of freedom and happiness
that they were leading.
The river had been left to the right of them, for the sake of what Joe
said might be better going, and a fairly direct course was followed for
several days more. One night, however, they suddenly found themselves on
the banks of the Little Big Branch where it had taken a deep bend. Hippy
declared that it had made the bend to be near Emma and murmur sweet
nothings in her ear.
"Listen well, little one," he admonished. "Tidings from the frozen
north, as well as messages intended for our ears alone, may be borne to
us through you. It is mighty fortunate that we have you with us."
The bank of the river was their camp that night. The party slept just
under the bluff, protected by it and lulled to sleep by the gently
rippling waters of the forest stream. Early on the following morning
they were aroused by an uproar in the camp. Out of the uproar came the
shrill voice of their guide.
"Get out of here, ye lazy good-for-nothin'. Think this 'ere is a
lumberjack hotel? Sick 'im, Henry! Sick 'im!" raged Joe Shafto.
Grace, hearing the bear growl, sprang up and ran out. Her companions
were not far behind her.
Sitting crouched over the campfire, which he had built, calmly cooking
his breakfast, was the Indian, Willy Horse, wholly undisturbed by the
uproar that his presence had created.
"Call off the bear!" commanded Grace sharply. "The man is our friend."
"He's a lazy good-for-nothin' and he's stole yer breakfast," protested
the forest woman, as she headed off Henry and drove him back with sundry
prods of her foot.
"Good morning, Mr. Horse," greeted Emma.
"Mornin'," answered the Indian briefly.
Grace by this time was shaking hands with him; then the Overland girls
surrounded him and demanded to know why he had not been to see them
before.
Emma started to tell Willy what a lot of trouble they had been in when
Grace interjected a remark that caused Elfreda to wonder.
"Perhaps Willy Horse knows more about our late unpleasantnesses than you
do, Emma," said Grace.
"Hello, old man. How are you?" cried Hippy, striding forward with
outstretched hand.
"How do! You Big Friend. Me make breakfast fire here."
"Help yourself," urged the girls.
"All yours," added Hippy with a wave of the hand that encompassed the
entire camp.
"Not includin' the guide," differed Joe Shafto.
Grace told Willy to wait until their breakfast was ready and eat with
them, but the Indian shook his head and stolidly continued preparing his
own breakfast. When it was ready he ate it, then sat back and smoked his
pipe.
"See other Big Friend," he finally vouchsafed.
"Tom Gray?" questioned Grace, instantly divining who Willy meant.
The Indian nodded his head.
"Him say all right," he added after an interval of puffing. "Say him
come along bymeby. Say Willy Horse show you place to camp. Me show."
"That will be fine. Did my husband say when he expected to join us?"
asked Grace.
"Say him come along soon. You see other white men?" Willy bent a steady
look on the face of Hippy Wingate.
"I should say we have. Deputy sheriffs, game wardens and a forest
ranger."
"Yes, and we saw a fellow named Peg Tatem. We had a fight with him,"
Emma informed their visitor.
"So?"
"Yes, we did, Mr. Horse. And some one shot a hole through his wooden
leg. Who do you suppose could have done that?"
"Big Friend, huh?" he questioned, looking up at Hippy.
"Not guilty," answered Hippy with a shake of the head.
"How come?" demanded the Indian.
Emma Dean told him the story, Willy listening gravely, puffing slowly at
his pipe, eyes fixed on the campfire. He smoked on in silence for some
time after the conclusion of her narrative.
"Mebby Willy find out," he grunted.
"You suspect, don't you?" demanded Elfreda, who had been narrowly
observing the Indian.
"Make breakfast. We go soon. Willy show where make camp." With that the
Indian rose, turned his back on them and loped into the forest. They saw
no more of him for fully two hours, and were already packed up and on
their way when they saw him standing with shoulder against a great tree,
watching their approach.
"You come along. Willy show," he directed as Hippy came abreast of him.
"How long will it take to reach this camp?" asked Lieutenant Wingate.
"Long time. Next sundown."
"To-morrow's or to-day's sundown?" demanded Emma.
"To-morrow."
Willy resumed his Indian gait, shoulders leaning forward, toes pointed
inward, his center of gravity well forward, and in this position he
trotted along for hours. The party halted at noon, but Willy Horse
jogged on ahead and was soon out of sight. He rejoined them after they
had resumed their journey and did not again stop until just before dark
when he announced that they would camp where they were. The Indian then
made browse-beds in the open for the Overland girls, and again
disappeared.
"What's the matter with that pesky savage?" demanded the forest woman.
"He's wuss'n the bear."
Hippy suggested that perhaps the Indian had gone off by himself to
listen to the voices of nature.
"Perhaps he has gone away to shoot somebody's wooden leg," suggested
Emma demurely.
Elfreda nodded, and said she too was convinced that Willy Horse had
fired the shots that shattered Peg Tatem's wooden leg, and the girls
agreed with her. They never got any nearer to the truth of that
occurrence, for, when questioned later about it, Willy Horse seemed
unable to understand what they were talking about.
The Indian did not reappear until the following morning. That day he led
them a long chase and kept the Overlanders at a fast jog. How he ever
stood up under it they could not imagine, and when they stopped he was
breathing naturally, and did not appear to be in the least fatigued.
"Come camp to-night," he told them when asked how near they were to
their destination.
The woman guide had little to say, but her sour expression told the
Overlanders that she was not pleased that the Indian was leading them.
The skies clouded over late in the afternoon, and later a drizzling rain
set in, but they continued on, well protected by their waterproof coats,
the hoods of which covered their heads. Henry, however, was a
disconsolate-looking object, but Hindenburg, riding in Hippy's saddle
bag, was dry and cosy, sleeping soundly as the rain pattered on his
sleeping quarters.
Night found the party still some little distance from its destination,
and Willy Horse was appealed to for encouragement. Emma wanted to camp
where they were but the others outvoted her, so on they rode.
From then on the journey was an unpleasant one. The shins of the riders
were barked from contact with trees. Low-hanging limbs of small
second-growth trees slapped their faces and deluged the riders with
water, and altogether they were experiencing about the most unpleasant
ride that they had ever taken, except possibly that across the Great
American Desert earlier in their vacation riding.
Grace, perhaps, was the only exception, in that she found herself
enjoying the unusual experience and the excitement of it, for the
stumbles of the ponies were frequent; here and there a tree was heard to
fall crashing to earth, and, high and piercing on the soggy night air,
they occasionally heard the mournful howl of a wolf.
"There goes seven dollars and a half," Emma would wail every time a wolf
howled.
Willy Horse finally shouted and indicated by a gesture, which was
revealed to the riders in the rear by Hippy's lamp, that he was about to
change his course. The Indian turned sharply to the right, proceeded in
a direct line for half a mile, as nearly as the Riders could judge, then
threw his arm straight up into the air.
"Be we there?" yelled the forest woman.
"We be. That is, we're here, but whether here is there or somewhere
else you will have to search the Indian for the answer. I don't know,"
answered Hippy.
"Wait! Me make fire," directed Willy.
The Overlanders, having sat their saddles so long, were literally
sticking to the leather, but wrenched themselves loose, slid off and
leaned against the steaming sides of their ponies, while water from the
trees filtered over them and ran in rivulets down their coats.
The flame of a cheerful campfire showed through the mist and was greeted
with a hoarse cheer by the cold Overland Riders.
"Is this the place where we are to stay until Mr. Gray joins us?" called
Grace.
"Yes," answered the Indian.
"Land sakes! I never could have found it," exclaimed the forest woman.
"Leastwise not in the dark. Reckon I might a follered the river and got
here somehow, but not the way that pesky savage took us, and ter think I
had ter be showed by a heathen how to get here."
The fire flamed into a snapping blaze, and then to the delight of the
party, they saw near at hand a large lean-to and two smaller ones.
"Willy, did you make them for us?" wondered Anne.
"Yes. Me make 'em."
"But, they must be soaked through," protested Nora. "How shall we be
able to sleep in a lean-to on a night like this."
"No leak. Bark on roof," the Indian informed her.
"Come, girls. Let us stake down and get close to that fire. I am
shivering," urged Elfreda.
"I expect my pup is too," said Hippy. "And the bear. Oh, where is he?"
Henry had disappeared and his master was too busy to bother about him.
After building a cook fire, Willy ran out into the forest, returning
soon thereafter with several large slices of bear meat, from stores that
he had safely cached, which he proceeded to fry over the fire while Mrs.
Shafto was boiling water for tea and opening cans of beans. The girls
threw off their wet garments and sank luxuriously into the browse floor
of their lean-to.
"Oh, girls, this is worth all the discomforts we have been through,
isn't it?" cried Anne enthusiastically.
"I don't know whether it is or not," answered Emma sourly. "Any port in
a storm, you know."
Hippy came in wet and dripping after caring for the ponies, with
Hindenburg tucked safely under his coat.
"Reminds me of France," he exclaimed jovially. "Say, children, may my
Hindenburg sleep in your quarters to-night? It will be warmer and more
comfortable for him than in mine."
"No!" shouted the Overland girls.
"He may sleep in the attic," suggested Emma. "Otherwise, on the roof.
Hippy, why do you keep that animal around? What is he good for except to
eat and sleep?"
"Don't you malign my bull pup. He is a watch dog, the best ever, and--"
Hippy's remaining words were lost in the shout of laughter that
interrupted him.
"Oh, Hippy, you are a scream," exclaimed Grace. "You know very well that
the only thing Hindenburg has watched since we started, is the food, and
always he has watched for us to throw some of it to him. Yes, he is a
wonderful watch dog."
All were now crowded into the lean-to, except Willy, who, after cooking
the bear-meat, said "Bye," and went away.
Good-nights were said early that evening and all hands turned in after
Mrs. Shafto had fed what was left of the supper to Henry. The bear had
come in immediately after getting the odor of one of his relatives being
cooked over the Overland Riders' campfire.
Rain roared on the bark roofs of the lean-tos all night long, but the
girls, dry and cosy, slept the night through without once awakening,
with Henry on guard out there sitting under a tree in a disconsolate
attitude, now and then wearily licking the water from his coat.
Hindenburg, more favored, slept cuddled between Lieutenant Wingate's
feet.
The present camp, it was understood between the Overlanders and Tom
Gray, was to be a permanent camp for some time to come, and it was here
that some of the most exciting scenes of their journey through the Great
North Woods were to be witnessed by them.