ATTACKED BY HOSTILE BLACKFEET
"CHEER up, Roger!" said Dick, making an effort to look as though he
himself had no fear of disaster. "I've often heard my father say it is
foolish to cross a bridge before you reach it. The first thing for us
to do is to let these poor fellows in the trap know we are here."
When there was a prospect for action Roger could rouse himself
wonderfully.
"And we must get them out of that deep hole by hook or by crook, Dick!"
he exclaimed.
The two pushed forward until they could look down toward the place
where they had discovered the forlorn figures of the prisoners.
"Hello! Hardy--Mordaunt!" called Dick, just loud enough to make his
voice carry to the men. He did not know what danger might be near, and
on this account believed it the part of wisdom to be careful.
Immediately the pair below looked up. When they discovered the boys
they manifested the greatest delight, even to shaking hands with each
other. Evidently they had been close to the point of despair.
"We're going to get you out of that hole first of all!" called Dick,
"and then you can tell us what happened."
"Where is Jasper Williams?" demanded Roger, unable to restrain his
impatience longer.
"We do not know," came the discouraging answer.
"Then he isn't down there with you?" pursued Roger.
"No. The last we saw of Jasper he was still alive, although hotly
pursued."
Naturally these last words excited Roger's curiosity more than ever.
He could easily guess that the party must have met with a stirring
adventure of some sort, and if Williams had fled it must have been
hostile Indians who pursued him. But Dick would not hear of any further
delay in starting work.
"Come, Roger, I shall need your assistance," he told the other. "Bottle
up your curiosity until we can get those poor fellows up out of the
pit. They seem to be injured more or less, for Hardy has a bandage
around his arm that looks bloody."
Roger was only too willing to render what aid he could, though the fact
struck him that they were not likely to find it plain sailing.
"If they couldn't climb up out of that hole on account of the smooth
face of the rock, how shall we go down to help them, Dick?" he demanded.
"That would be foolish," was the reply. "We must plan to draw them up
here."
"But, Dick, where is the rope to come from? We brought nothing of the
sort from the camp?"
"Then we must find a substitute. Look back at some of our experiences,
and tell me if we have not done that more than once when in the forest?"
"Why, yes, a wild grape-vine can often be made to serve the purpose of
a rope, because it is tough and long and pliable. But where can we get
such a thing now?"
"As it happens, I noticed some vines growing not far back, and I am
leading you to the place now. Look over yonder at that little swale,
where the trees grow so densely; there are vines hanging from the
branches, for I saw them swaying in the breeze."
"Yes, I do believe you are right," admitted Roger, who possessed
splendid eyesight. "I only hope we find one long enough."
"Oh! as to that," responded Dick, calmly, "we could easily splice a
pair of them. There's nearly always a way to do things if only you make
up your mind to do them."
They soon arrived at the patch of swampy ground where the undergrowth
grew so densely. It was an ideal place for wild grape-vines, and small
wonder that they grew to such a length, some twisting in spirals around
the trunks of the trees, others hanging from limbs that were fully
twenty feet overhead.
Roger gave expression to his satisfaction the minute he set eyes on
this network of vines.
"No trouble getting what we want here, I should say, Dick. Look at that
monster vine; though this one seems better fitted for our purposes,
because it is like a stout rope, if only it proves tough enough to hold
a weight."
"No trouble about that, I'm thinking," said Dick. "You could hang half
a ton on that vine and it would hold. You are a better climber than I
ever claimed to be, so get up the tree and cut it loose above."
Nothing suited Roger better than this. Laying his gun down, together
with his powder-horn, which might be in the way, he started up the tree
indicated. Arriving at the limb to which the vine they had selected
seemed to be fastened he first examined it carefully, and then with his
knife soon cut it free.
"Take care while I drop it, Dick!" he called, and shortly afterwards
descended to the ground.
The vine was quickly trimmed so as to free it from useless growth, and,
dragging it after them, the lads once more went to the brink of the pit
that had proved a trap for the members of the exploring party.
When this substitute for a rope was lowered it was found to be quite
long enough for their purpose. One of the men immediately started to
climb, and what before had seemed an insurmountable task now became
easy.
Ten minutes later both had been rescued from their predicament. They
were shivering from exposure and fright, and the first thing the boys
did was to make a small fire in a depression amidst the rocks, over
which some water was heated, and a pannikin of tea brewed.
When the men had eaten something, and washed it down with liberal
portions of the hot tea, Roger could hold back no longer. He wanted to
learn what had happened, and how they had become separated from Jasper
Williams.
The men had evidently been through a rough experience, and seemed to
have lost all inclination to proceed any further into the unknown
country of mysteries. Indeed, from certain words that they had dropped,
it was plain nothing could induce them to return. They meant to head
directly toward the camp near the Mandan village.
This being the case, Dick was anxious to learn all he could before the
separation came about, and so he did not attempt to chide Roger on
account of the other's impatience when he burst out with:
"Now please tell us what it was all about, and who pursued Jasper
Williams at the time you saw him last?"
Hardy seemed to be the best talker, for it was he who answered.
"The Indians came down on us when we were not expecting an attack,"
he explained, looking somewhat humiliated, for a frontiersman was apt
to feel a blush of shame when compelled to admit that for once his
vigilance had relaxed.
"Were you in camp at the time?" asked Roger.
"Yes, close to the river," Hardy continued. "We had been seeing some
wonderful things, and Jasper seemed to believe there were others even
more amazing beyond. Then, like a bolt out of the clear sky, they
dropped down on us. Some sprang from the bushes, while others appeared
on the river in canoes made from dugout logs."
He drew a long breath, as though the recollection of that sudden attack
would give him a bad feeling for a long time to come.
"But you must have snatched up your guns and fought them?" pursued
Roger, who could not picture Jasper Williams doing anything less, since
he had the reputation of being an unusually valiant borderman.
"That was what we did," replied Hardy. "After shooting and wounding
some of our enemies we clubbed our guns and strove to beat our way
clear of the howling pack. In some fashion Jasper became separated from
us. We managed to burst through the Indians, and fled for the thickest
of the neighboring woods. Somehow we did not seem to be pursued, and,
wondering at that, I looked over my shoulder, hearing the yells of the
savages growing fainter."
"Yes, and what did you see?" Roger demanded.
"Jasper had managed to leap into one of their canoes, and was paddling
like mad up the rough water of the Yellowstone, with the other boats in
hot pursuit. They vanished from our sight around a bend in the stream,
but for a long time we could hear the sound of distant yells when the
wind turned that way."
"You do not know certainly, then, that Jasper was captured or killed?"
Dick asked.
"We cannot say," replied Hardy. "All we thought about then was to get
away from that region, and start back to the camp. We have seen enough
of this wild country to satisfy us. By accident we managed in the
darkness of the night to fall into that hole, and we have been held
prisoners there ever since, suffering all the tortures of cold, hunger
and despair. When we heard you call out it seemed to us the finest
sound we had ever listened to."
The men had finished their meal by now, and seemed anxious to make a
start over the back trail. Dick did not attempt to influence them to
change their decision, for he knew it would be futile. As they had both
lost their powder-horns in the fight, and their long-barreled guns were
useless without ammunition, he managed to spare a small amount of the
precious stuff, enough to give them several charges apiece.
"You can shoot game, and live in that way until you reach camp," he
told them as he watched both men eagerly load their guns. "But what of
these Indians who attacked your party--they were not of the Sioux or
the Mandan tribes, I take it?"
"No--Blackfeet, and hard fighters," the man replied. "I do not believe
they would have allowed us to escape, only that they seemed most
anxious to get Jasper Williams, for all of them pursued him, some in
boats and the rest on land."
This struck Dick as peculiar. Why should Jasper Williams count any more
with the hostile Blackfeet than the other two explorers? His hair would
make a no better looking scalp than theirs!
Dick was still pondering over this as he shook the two men by the hand
and expressed the hope that they would meet with no further troubles
until they gained the camp and gave his message to Captain Lewis.
"Have you arrived at any conclusion, Hardy," he observed, "as to why
the Indians should want to capture Jasper Williams so badly that they
would neglect you two, and even let you escape?"
"We talked that over, Mordaunt and myself, while we were in the pit,"
came the answer, "and both of us decided that the men who were with the
Blackfeet must have hated our companion, and had promised a reward to
the redskins if he was captured. That only would explain the mystery,
we thought."
"Why, were there white men with the Indians?" cried Dick, beginning to
see a gleam of light. "Were they English, or frontiersmen, or French?"
"They must have been French, because we heard them calling out, and it
was in that language. They seemed wild with anger because Jasper had
not fallen into their hands. In the boats they kept shouting to the
paddlers, and urging them to greater exertion. Yes, the Frenchmen must
hate our companion, and I fear he will never live to come back to us
again."
As the two men walked away, heading toward the northeast, Dick and
Roger exchanged significant looks, for they now knew the worst.