A COUNTER-STROKE
It was all very well for Squeaky to recommend us to go to bed; we had
something else to do first, namely, to talk over the situation. The
possibility of escape was naturally the first subject to be discussed.
“I don’t see any chance of it at present,” said Percy. “But perhaps,
after we have been here a few days, if we don’t show any desire to get
away, they may become less vigilant and we may find an opportunity. If
Squeaky for any reason should go away and leave Bates in charge, that
would be our best chance. We might tackle Bates--I’m not very much
afraid of him--but I am afraid of Squeaky, most decidedly afraid.”
“So am I,” I responded. “I’m pretty certain he would kill us if he
thought proper, and though Bates might try to prevent him I’m not so
sure that he could do so. If Jack----”
“Sh!” whispered Percy, tapping me upon the knee, and pointing with his
thumb toward the doorway. There was a rustle in the grass, and the
sound of breathing close to the elk-hide. Somebody was listening.
“Jack is sure to be back in three weeks,” Percy announced in an
audible voice for the benefit of the listener. “Three weeks ought to
be ample time, and you may be sure he won’t let the grass grow under
his feet. As for ourselves, as there’s no chance that I see of getting
out of this place, the best thing we can do is to make ourselves as
comfortable as we can while we stay here.”
“You are right,” I replied. “That’s the best thing to do. Your father
and mine will certainly pay rather than have us killed, and these men
probably know that. If it should take more than three weeks to get the
money out, Jack will come and say so, and they will give him the extra
time necessary; they will hardly be such idiots as to kill us when they
might get a thousand pounds apiece by keeping us alive.”
“That’s true,” said Percy. “Well, since we are agreed to make the best
of it, let us begin at once by going to bed.”
With that we arose and proceeded to make the beds, keeping our ears
cocked meanwhile toward the door. Percy winked at me when once more we
heard the swishing among the grass which announced the retreat of the
spy.
The night passed without incident, and very early next morning Squeaky
unbuttoned the door and commanded us to come out. Both he and Bates
were still wearing their masks; whether they slept in them or not I
cannot say.
“Pardner,” said the former, as soon as we appeared, “you may as well go
and bring up my horse. Cook, start the breakfast. You other, chop some
wood.”
We set about our allotted tasks; but presently Percy, pointing to an
empty bucket, remarked:
“I haven’t any water.”
“Go and get some, then,” said Squeaky; but as Percy picked up the
bucket he added, “You other, go with him. It’s easier to keep an eye
on you while you are both together. You’ll find a place down by that
rock,” pointing to the mushroom rock, which stood about fifty or sixty
yards away.
Leaving our warder watching us, rifle in hand, we walked down to the
spot indicated. The little creek, we found, had cut for itself a groove
in the stone floor of the valley, and just below the rock was a little
waterfall about a foot high, very convenient for filling a bucket.
As Percy stooped for the purpose, he suddenly checked himself, and
exclaimed in a quick whisper:
“Tom, Tom! Look there!”
Following the direction of his gaze--for he dared not point--I saw,
just above the little cascade, a round, basin-like pot-hole in the
stone bed of the creek, and in it, lying upon a layer of very black
sand, a yellow lump resembling in size and shape a soldier’s button.
“Is Squeaky looking?” whispered Percy.
“Yes,” said I, glancing out of the corners of my eyes at our guard.
Without any further delay Percy filled the bucket and rose again, but
as he straightened up he said softly:
“It’s gold! I’m going to upset the bucket and come back. Stand between
me and Squeaky when I do so.”
“All right,” said I.
With an admirable imitation of naturalness, Percy, when we had covered
half the return distance, caught his toe against a root and fell upon
his face, sending the water all over my legs and filling my boots so
that they went _squish-squish_ when I hopped about, which I did with a
naturalness in which there was no imitation; it was perfectly genuine;
so genuine that Squeaky burst into a loud guffaw at the sight.
Percy at once arose, threw out the remnant of water, and walked
straight back to the creek, while I interposed my body between him
and Squeaky as best I could. He soon returned, and walking up to the
camp-fire without looking at me set down the bucket; but I observed
that his right coat-sleeve was soaked, and as the corner of one pocket
showed a wet stain I felt pretty sure that he had the nugget safely in
that pocket.
Anxious as we were to get together in order that we might talk over
this surprising find, we had no opportunity just then, and events
followed each other so quickly immediately afterwards that, impossible
though it may seem, we actually forgot all about the nugget until
several days later.
It will naturally be supposed that any events which could make us
forget so notable an occurrence as the discovery of gold after all our
fruitless searching must be events of some importance, and that they
were so I shall, I believe, be able soon to show.
Breakfast was no sooner over than Squeaky, turning to us, said:
“Boys, I’m going for a bit of a ride this morning up to the hog-back.
I want to see that your friend hasn’t taken a notion to follow us. My
pardner, here, will stand guard over you while I’m gone.”
Here was news! Here was the head jailer about to give us the very
opportunity we had been hoping for! I was afraid to look at my
fellow-prisoner for fear I should be unable to restrain my inclination
to wink at him. My exultation, however, was short-lived, for Squeaky
went on:
“But he’s a tender-hearted sort of chap, is my pardner, and he might
make some bones about shooting you if you tried to get away, so I’m
afraid I’ll have to tie you up for a couple of hours. You’re valuable
property, you see--and I can’t afford to lose you.”
This announcement was not so pleasant. I wondered if Squeaky could
possibly have overheard us speaking of our chances of escape if he
should leave us in charge of Bates. Probably not. It is more likely
that his natural acuteness led him to suspect that we might make the
attempt if only he himself were out of the way. This time, though, he
was not quite sharp enough. My quick-witted chum very cleverly stole a
march on him.
I was on my knees at the time, washing up; Percy was kneeling beside
me drying the things with our own private dish-rag; while Bates stood
a little distance off saddling a horse--not the same horse, I noticed,
that Squeaky had ridden the day before. Percy also noted this fact,
and, with a presence of mind I have never ceased to admire, he took
instant advantage of it. Nodding his head toward Bates he remarked in a
casual manner:
“Isn’t he saddling the wrong horse?”
The remark caused Squeaky to turn his head, and in that brief instant
Percy slipped the knife he happened to be wiping into his high boot,
snatched up another, and in a perfectly unconcerned manner went on
rubbing away with the dish-rag.
“No,” said our unsuspecting proprietor, “he’s all right. Come, hurry
up. I’ve no time to waste.”
Our task completed, Squeaky instructed Bates to cut off a length from
one of our picket-ropes, which being done he unravelled the piece, and
taking a couple of strands he tied Percy’s arms behind him just above
the elbows. Having performed the same office for me, he stood for a
while contemplating the result.
“Put your hands in front of you,” he commanded.
We obeyed, to find that our finger-tips would just meet. Squeaky shook
his head.
“Won’t do,” said he. “You might untie each other. I may as well make a
good job of it while I’m about it. It’ll be a bit uncomfortable, but it
won’t be for very long. I guess you’ll have to stand it.”
With that he took two more strands of the rope, and tied our wrists
together behind us. Once more he examined his handiwork, and this time
appeared to be satisfied.
“That’ll do,” said he. “Now get into your cabin.”
Having driven us in, like a couple of sheep, he fastened the hide over
the doorway, and left us, with the information that he would be back
in about two hours; unless, indeed, he should happen to get sight of
Jack prowling around, in which case it might take him another two hours
to stalk and shoot him. It was a horrid suggestion, expressed in his
usual matter-of-fact way, and we did not doubt he meant it. It filled
us with anxiety. We heartily wished we had never consented to Jack’s
proposition that he should try to follow our trail. Our only comfort
was in the thought that Jack was fully aware of the risk he ran, and
that he would take every precaution--for our sakes as well as his own.
Standing close to the doorway, listening intently, we heard Squeaky
giving instructions to Bates, and directly afterwards the clatter of
hoofs proclaimed that he had ridden off.
“Tom,” Percy hastily whispered, at the same time going down upon his
knees, “get up on my shoulders, quick.”
The reason for this seemingly senseless request was that, the elk-hide
being too short to cover the whole of the doorway, there was a gap of
three inches at the top through which one might look out if he could
reach high enough. Following Percy’s instructions, I bestrode his neck,
and he then rose carefully to his feet; no easy task for either of us,
considering that we were deprived of the use of our hands. For Percy
it was especially difficult, but fortunately he was very stout on his
pins, and after one or two preliminary wabbles which threatened to send
me headlong to the floor, he succeeded in standing upright.
For five minutes he thus supported me, while I watched Squeaky as he
rode across the open, entered the strip of woods, appeared again on the
other side, and vanished into the gorge, when I whispered, “All right,”
and Percy going down upon his knees again, I dismounted.
Without an instant’s pause my companion leaned back against the wall,
put up his foot, and whispered to me to pull off his boot. Backing
up to his foot I seized the boot-heel with my bound hands, and after
some ineffectual struggles Percy withdrew his foot; in doing so he
pulled out the knife also, which fell upon the floor with a clank loud
enough, as it seemed to us, to wake the echoes. We paused, breathless,
listening for Bates to make some movement, but he apparently had heard
nothing.
Percy, by lying down upon the ground, managed to get hold of the knife,
and grasping it firmly by the handle, point upward, the edge toward
himself, he rose to his feet again.
“Now, Tom,” said he, “get back to back. Pass the rope that ties your
wrists over the point of the knife and work it up and down against
the edge. I’ll hold the knife steady. Don’t cut yourself; it’s pretty
sharp.”
With some difficulty, being unable to see what I was doing, I followed
these instructions, and after about two minutes’ sawing the rope broke
with a pop and my hands were free. I took the knife from Percy, and
being able now to see my work, I soon cut his bonds; when he, in turn,
freed my elbows, and our hands once more became serviceable members.
“What’s the next move, Percy?” I asked, as I cast the remnants of rope
into the corner. “How are we to get at Bates?”
“Let us cut a hole in the hide first, so that we can see what he is
doing,” Percy replied. “Climb up on my shoulders again.”
I was soon up this time. Bates was sitting quietly on a log with his
face towards the cabin.
“Is he looking?” asked Percy.
“Yes,” said I.
“Tell me when he looks away, and I’ll cut a hole in the hide.”
Bates presently turned his head.
“Now!” said I; and Percy instantly “jabbed” the knife through the hide
and withdrew it again. He then inserted a small bit of bark into the
hole to keep it open, and as the hairy side of the hide was outward,
and the hole therefore invisible, we could keep watch on Bates’s
movements without his being aware of the fact.
“We must make him move somehow,” said Percy, after I had once more
descended to the ground. “It won’t do to try to rush him from here; he
might be surprised into shooting us, even if he didn’t intend to.”
After proposing and dismissing a variety of more or less impracticable
plans, we hit upon a device which, as it seemed to us to promise well,
we agreed to attempt.
The chimney of our cabin projected only about six inches above the
roof, and, the cabin being built upon the slope of the hill, its roof
was so much above the level of the ground at the camp-fire that anyone
standing down there could not see the chimney-top. Percy had noted the
fact that very morning, and it was upon that fact that we based the
plan for our deliverance.
While I kept watch upon Bates, Percy climbed up the inside of the
chimney, and with great care removed the stones which formed its front
wall, laying them one by one upon the roof. In ten minutes this was
accomplished, and he then came softly down again.
“Did he move?” he asked.
“No,” I replied. “He didn’t hear a sound, evidently. Did you get it all
down? Can you get out, do you think?”
“Oh, yes, I can get out. The thing now is to bring him up close. Watch,
while I stir him up.”
Percy stepped to the wall of the cabin, and taking hold of a big piece
of loose bark he ripped it off. At the sound Bates sprang to his feet,
all alert in an instant, advanced a step or two, and stopped.
“Scratch!” I whispered.
Percy scraped the piece of bark upon the floor, making a small but
distinct sound, upon hearing which Bates advanced again on the tips of
his toes. His suspicions were aroused; which was just what we wanted.
I held up my finger. Percy stopped, and so did Bates. I could see by
his expression that he was listening intently. Once more the operation
was repeated, with the same result, and Bates being now within ten feet
of the cabin, Percy handed the piece of bark to me and himself crept
into the fireplace.
I stepped to one side of the cabin, scratched a little, and hopped back
to the peep-hole, just in time to see Bates go picking his way round
the corner of the house. Immediately afterwards a handful of dirt fell
into the fireplace: a preconcerted signal to let me know that Percy was
safely up on the roof.
I then got inside the fireplace myself, that being the safest situation
in case Bates should fire through the chinks,--though we did not
believe he would do so,--and reaching as far as I could round the
corner, I began scraping the floor of the cabin near the wall with the
crackling bark, pausing every now and then to listen.
It was an anxious moment, for the success of our plan depended upon my
being able to induce Bates to come close to the wall. Percy, I knew,
was lying flat upon the roof, eagerly awaiting his opportunity; but
where was Bates? That was the important question.
Once more I began scratching on the floor, when, as if he had known of
my anxiety, and was desirous of removing it, Bates, with an assumed
gruffness of voice which nearly made me give vent to an inopportune
laugh, called out:
“Stop that! If you try to scratch out, I’ll shoot.”
I stopped for an instant, and then began again, very softly, hoping to
draw him close to the wall to listen. The ruse was most successful.
Not only did he come close, but he stooped down with his ear to one of
the chinks.
Now or never was our chance! and my watchful chum was not the one to
miss it. At the moment when Bates bent down with his head close to
the wall, Percy, leaping lightly from the roof, landed--by no means
lightly--with both knees upon the middle of our jailer’s back, sending
him to the ground with all the breath driven out of his body.
“Come on!” he shouted; and at the call I rushed at the door, burst it
bodily from its fastenings, and ran round the house, to find Bates
lying upon his face with Percy sitting upon him, holding him firmly by
both elbows.
“Get some rope!” cried Percy, the instant I appeared.
Back I ran to the camp, cut off three feet of rope, and returned to
the rear of the cabin. Within five minutes Bates was bound hand and
foot--perfectly helpless.
Leaving our prostrate enemy where he lay--after first taking away
his rifle--we hastened to the camp, whence, with our own rifles and
cartridge-belts in our hands, we set off as hard as we could run across
the valley.
Arrived at the bars, we paused for breath; and having held a brief
consultation as to whether we should go on or await Squeaky’s return
where we were, we decided finally to go on; for, though this would be
an excellent place in which to lie in wait for him, and though by going
on we might come upon him unawares and thus lose our present advantage
of taking him by surprise, we were bound to think of Jack, who, for all
we knew, might at that moment be in need of our help.
We had arrived at this conclusion, and I had put my foot upon the
lowest rail preparatory to climbing over, when we heard faintly the
sound of a horse’s hoofs clattering down the bare stone bed of the
gorge.
“This way, this way!” whispered Percy, in great excitement; and turning
about, we ran back a few steps and clambered up into the little
fortification which I have before mentioned as commanding the passage.
“We’ll let him come through the bars and set them up again,” said
Percy, speaking very quickly, “and then he won’t be able to run back.
As soon as the bars are up I’ll step out and order him to throw up his
hands. If he makes any sign of an intention to shoot, you must shoot
at him through the loophole. Will you do it?”
Percy asked this question, knowing very well by his own feelings how
reluctant I should be to shoot a man.
“Yes,” I replied, after a short hesitation, “I’ll do it. As far as I
see there’s nothing else for it. It is his life or ours; so, as it
can’t be helped, I’ll do it.”
Seeing how hard it went with me to assent to this course, Percy
magnanimously offered to change places with me, though it would have
been quite as hard for him as for me; but to this I would not agree,
and so we let the arrangement stand as it was, sincerely hoping that
Squeaky might submit without a fight. Had we had more time we might
have hit upon some other plan, but hurried as we were we had no
opportunity for a full discussion of the matter.
As it was we had hardly settled upon our course of action, when round
the corner there came, full into view, a man on foot, with a horse
walking behind him.
It was Jack!
[Illustration]