JULIAN MAKES A DISCOVERY.
OUR HERO rode away from the cabin which had been the scene of his
recent thrilling adventure in an ecstasy of bewilderment and alarm.
He could not find a satisfactory explanation for a single one of the
strange incidents that had happened there—they were all shrouded in
a mystery which he could not penetrate. Of one thing, however, he was
certain, and that was that that gallant young fellow, whoever he was,
who had so narrowly escaped death at Smirker’s hands, should not remain
long a prisoner. He would have him out of that cabin if there was any
way by which his release could be effected, and find out what he meant
by claiming to be Julian Mortimer. Perhaps that “watchful friend,” who
had addressed that note to him and visited his room the night before
while he was asleep, could tell him what ought to be done under the
circumstances, if he could only obtain an interview with him. This he
would use his best endeavors to accomplish by returning at once to his
uncle’s rancho, and remaining awake all night. If his mysterious friend
should come into his room before morning he would be sure to see him.
Julian’s new horse was quite as swift as Snowdrop, and showed the same
willingness to go ahead. He flew down the rocky path at break-neck
speed, the bay quietly following. For two hours he continued that
mad gallop, and at the end of that time suddenly slackened his pace
to a walk. This aroused Julian, who straightened up and looked about
him, expecting to see his uncle’s rancho close before him; but not a
building of any description was in sight. His horse was toiling up a
steep mountain path, which led through a wilderness of trees and rocks
that Julian did not remember to have seen before. He knew that he had
not passed that way in the morning. He had been so completely absorbed
in his reflections that he had not thought of directing his steed, but
trusted to the animal to carry him back to his uncle’s rancho. But
now he remembered, with a thrill of terror, that he was not riding
Snowdrop, but a horse belonging to a robber—one, too, which was in the
habit of making frequent and perhaps daily journeys between certain
points. The animal seemed to know where he was going, but Julian did
not. He had not seen the valley since he left Smirker’s cabin, and that
proved that the horse, without attracting his attention, had turned
into another path, and was carrying him deeper into the mountains.
But to what place? To another robber station beyond a doubt. Julian
shuddered at the thought.
To add to his alarm, night was rapidly coming on, the sky was overcast
with clouds of inky blackness, the lightning was playing about the
mountain tops, and the hoarse mutterings of a storm could be heard
in the distance. What was to be done under such circumstances? He
could never retrace his steps and find his way back to the valley in
the dark. He knew by the experience he had already had with Snowdrop
that the animals White-horse Fred rode, having become accustomed to
a particular line of duty, objected to having their usual manner of
proceeding interrupted; and if the nag on which he was now mounted
should show the same disinclination to turn back that Snowdrop had
exhibited to leave Smirker’s cabin, what could he do? He would be
obliged to depend entirely on himself, and he would become hopelessly
bewildered before he had gone a hundred yards. To camp beside the path
and wait for daylight would be equally hazardous, for the crash of
fallen timbers in the distance told him that the swiftly approaching
storm was sweeping every movable thing before it. He must go on—he had
no alternative.
“There’s some consolation in knowing that I can’t get into a much worse
scrape than that which I have just got out of,” thought Julian. “If I
don’t succeed in passing myself off as White-horse Fred, I will reveal
myself and trust to luck. In that event the robbers will only make a
prisoner of me, for I am worth too much to them to be harmed. Smirker
said so, although I haven’t the least idea what he meant by it.”
Having settled this point, Julian put spurs to his horse, which, having
by this time gained the summit of the hill, set off at the top of his
speed. The gloom of night settled rapidly over the mountains, growing
more and more intense every instant, and finally even the nearest
objects were shut out from his view, save when the occasional flashes
of lightning burst from the thick blackness overhead. To increase his
uneasiness, he became aware that the path over which he was being
carried with all the speed his horse could command ran along the brink
of a deep precipice. Trusting entirely to the white nag, and leaving
the bay to take care of himself, Julian clung with a death-grip to the
horn of his saddle, closing his eyes when the lightning illuminated
the scene, that he might not see the dangers before him, and then
when darkness once more settled over the mountains holding his breath
in suspense, momentarily expecting to find himself whirling headlong
to destruction. But the sure-footed animal, having carried the real
White-horse Fred along that same chasm on many a night like this, was
too familiar with the way to run into any dangers.
Nearer and nearer came the storm, a roar like that of a thousand
express trains filling the canyon behind him, the lightning flashing
incessantly, the thunder booming and echoing among the cliffs like
rapid discharges of heavy artillery, the crash of falling timber
sounding louder and plainer every instant, and faster and faster flew
the white horse with his terrified rider. He sped along like a bird on
the wing, never once abating his speed even in the roughest and most
difficult places, and finally, to Julian’s immense relief, carried him
into a thickly wooded ravine, and after making several abrupt turns and
plunging through a dense thicket of bushes, came to a sudden halt. On
the instant the boy placed his hand to his mouth and gave a perfect
imitation of White-horse Fred’s whistle.
“Ay! ay!” came the response through the darkness, the voice sounding
close at hand.
“Whew!” panted Julian, drawing his handkerchief across his dripping
forehead. “Wasn’t it lucky that I had my wits about me? I heard a
window close, and a bolt rattle as it was pushed into its socket; and
that proves that some one heard my approach and was on the lookout.
If I hadn’t given the signal just as I did I might have been shot.
Wouldn’t I give something to know what I have got to go through with
now?”
Julian could not see even the faintest outline of a house before him,
but nevertheless there was one there. The sound of voices and the
tramping of heavy feet on a stone floor came faintly to his ears,
followed by the grating of bolts and locks; and presently a door swung
open close at his side—so close that if he had thrust out his hand he
could have touched it—a flood of light streamed out into the darkness,
and a man with a lantern appeared on the threshold. Julian’s horse at
once moved forward, carrying his rider into a stable similar to the one
adjoining Smirker’s cabin, and the bay followed closely at his heels.
Scarcely had they reached the shelter of the friendly roof when the
storm burst forth in all its fury.
Julian rolled off his horse rather than dismounted, and the hostler,
after closing and fastening the door, held up his lantern and peered
sharply into his face.
“Why, boy!” he exclaimed in great amazement.
“It is all up with me now,” thought Julian. “I am discovered at last.”
“Well, sir!” continued the man, after a pause. “I have seen something
to-night I never expected to see in my life—White-horse Fred
frightened.”
“I guess you would be frightened if you were in my place,” returned
Julian, greatly relieved.
“The soldiers haven’t been after you, have they?”
The boy replied in the negative.
“Oh, it’s the storm, then. It’s awful, that’s a fact. I never heard
such thunder or such a roaring of wind. You got here just in time,
didn’t you? Listen to that rain. The water in the gullies will be
breast high to a horse in five minutes. Where did this fellow come
from?” asked the hostler, leading the bay into one of the stalls.
“From Fort Stoughton. He was stolen from the major.”
“Is this all you’ve got? Haven’t you brought any dust or nuggets?”
“No. That was all Smirker had to give me.”
“The fellows up there are getting lazy. They never send anything but
horses lately. What do you know that is interesting or exciting?”
“Nothing. Smirker told me to tell you that the captain’s cub had got
back.”
“Glory!” exclaimed the man, looking over his shoulder at Julian, and
bringing his horny palms together with a noise like the report of a
pistol.
“I don’t know what he meant by it,” added Julian, hoping that the
man would finish the story Smirker had been relating to him when
White-horse Fred arrived.
“Of course you don’t, but I do; and it is the best piece of news I ever
heard.”
“Why is it?”
“That is a secret known only to a few of us whom the captain is willing
to trust. But, of course, as you are a faithful member of the band, you
will one day share in the benefits of it. I’d like to tell you, but I’m
sworn to tell nobody. Your supper is waiting.”
That was something Julian was glad to hear. Uncle Reginald had kept
him in such a state of excitement that morning that he had eaten very
little breakfast, and he was as hungry as a wolf. Fortunately there was
but one door leading out of the stable beside the one at which he had
come in, and he knew which way to go to find the living room of the
cabin.
Being satisfied now that he could pass himself off anywhere for
White-horse Fred, he boldly pushed open the door and found himself
in the presence of two rough-looking men, who were stretched out on
benches, with their saddles under their heads for pillows.
At one end of the room was a table, made of unplaned boards, upon
which was a goodly supply of corn-bread and bacon, a tin plate with a
fork beside it, and a quart cup, which a villainous-looking Mexican,
who entered from another door just as Julian came in from the stable,
was filling with very black-looking coffee. The men on the benches
greeted him with rude cordiality, the Mexican bowed to him, and Julian,
assuming an air of carelessness and indifference that he was very far
from feeling, threw his sombrero into one corner of the room and seated
himself at the table.
The nervousness and timidity he felt on first entering the room very
soon began to wear away. The men, after making some coarse jests
concerning his new clothes, entered into a lively conversation with
him, and asked a multitude of questions about persons and places which
Julian had never seen or heard of. From some remarks they let fall he
found out why they were so inquisitive. They were obliged to remain in
that cabin month in and month out, scarcely over stirring beyond the
threshold; they never saw any new faces except those of the captain and
the two agents who brought the stolen property there and took it away
again; and they knew nothing of what was going on in the outside world
except what their visitors told them. Julian gratified their curiosity
by relating a very few things that had happened that day in Smirker’s
cabin, and a good many things that had not happened. He repeated every
word that had been told him about the “captain’s cub,” in the hope
that the men would tell him the rest of the story, but in this he was
disappointed. They expressed unbounded delight at the intelligence, but
said, somewhat fiercely, that Smirker ought to have held his tongue.
But little was said after this. The men having listened to all Julian
had to tell them, rearranged their blankets and prepared to go to
sleep; and the boy, being left to himself, gave his whole attention to
the corn-bread and bacon. When he finished his supper and arose from
the table, the robbers were both snoring lustily.
“What’s the next thing on the programme, I wonder?” soliloquized
Julian, who, not knowing what else to do, walked about the room looking
at the weapons which hung upon the wall. “I am afraid to make a move
in any direction for fear I shall act so unlike White-horse Fred that
somebody will suspect me. I’ll stroll around a little and see what sort
of a place I have got into.”
The Mexican who had served up the supper came in at this moment to
clear away the dishes, and when he went out again, Julian walked to the
door through which he disappeared, and stood there looking about him,
and wondering if it would be safe to venture beyond it. It led into a
long, narrow hall, at the opposite end of which was a second door that
communicated with the kitchen. This door was open, and the sounds that
issued from the room told him that the Mexican was engaged in washing
the supper dishes.
After a moment’s pause Julian kept slowly on, intending to take a peep
into the kitchen; but when he had gone about half-way through the hall,
he saw another door at his left hand, which he had not before noticed.
It was open, and led into a room which presented a great contrast to
the one Julian had just left.
[Illustration: “HE SAT BY THE TABLE, WITH HIS HEAD RESTING UPON HIS
HAND.”]
It was nicely furnished, carpeted, provided with a comfortable bed, and
there were ornaments on the mantel over the fire-place, and pictures
hanging upon the walls. In the middle of the floor was a table with the
remains of a supper upon it, and beside it sat a tall, military-looking
gentleman dressed in a faded suit of black. He sat with his head
resting upon his hand, and his eyes fastened upon the floor; and there
was something in his face, which was turned partly toward him, that
attracted the boy’s attention and excited his sympathy at once. He knew
instinctively that the man was in trouble. A second glance showed him
that he was a prisoner—that he was in double irons.
Who was he, and what had he done to incur the displeasure of the
robbers that they should keep him so closely confined? If Julian had
been able to answer this question, and had known the full value of the
discovery he had just made, he would have been astonished and excited
beyond measure.