THE FLIGHT
Boyd had no mean powers as a narrator. He did not speak at first of
their own immediate search, but alluded to the great belief that gold
was scattered all through the West, although it seldom had a trace or
trail leading to it. Then he spoke of Clarke's father, and what he had
discovered, returning soon afterward to the civil war, in which he had
fallen.
The Little Giant's eyes brightened with the flame of pursuit as the
hunter talked. He who had sought gold for so many years without finding
a particle of it was seeing it now, in pockets, and in almost solid
ledges, beyond anything he had ever dreamed. But when Boyd told of the
officer's death on the battlefield he sighed deeply and his face
clouded.
"That's always the way," he said. "Jest when you've got it, it slips
through your fingers, though I will say to you, young William, that it's
not the lost gold only I'm mournin' 'bout. I'm sorry, too, for the death
of your brave father."
"But, knowing the uncertainties of war, he took thought for the future,"
said Boyd. "He drew a map showing where his great mine is, and it's now
in the possession of his son, Will, who sits before you."
The shadow left the face of the Little Giant, and his eyes glistened as
Will produced the precious map, spreading it before him. After examining
it carefully, he said:
"Ef you fight off many thousand Sioux, run through fifty or a hundred
mountain blizzards, starve a dozen times, freeze twenty times an' stick
to it three or four years you'll git that thar gold."
Then the Little Giant sighed, and his face clouded again--it had perhaps
been years since his face had clouded twice in one day.
"You fellers are in great luck. I wish you well."
"We wish ourselves well," said Boyd, watching him closely.
A sudden thought seemed to occur to the Little Giant and his face
brightened greatly.
"Do you two fellers want a hired man?" he asked.
"What kind of a hired man?" said Boyd.
"A likely feller, not very tall, but strong an' with a willin' heart,
handy with spade an' shovel, understandin' hosses an' mules, an' able to
whistle fur you gay an' lively tunes in the evenin', when you're all
tired out from the day's work in the richest mine in the world."
"No, we don't want any hired man."
"Not even the kind I'm tellin' you 'bout?"
"Not even that, nor any other."
"An' both o' you hev got your minds plum' made up 'bout it?"
"Plumb made up."
The Little Giant's face fell for the third time in one day, an absolute
record for him.
"I reckon thar ain't no more to say," he said.
Boyd was still watching him closely, but now his look was one of
sympathy.
"We don't want any hired man," he said. "We've no use for hired men, but
we do want something."
"What's that, Jim Boyd?"
"We want a partner."
"Why, each of you has got one. You hev young William and young William
hez you."
"Well, young William and me have talked about this some, not much, but
we came straight to the point. For such a big hunt as ours, through
dangers piled on dangers, we need a third man, one that's got a strong
heart and a cheerful soul, one that can shoot straighter than anybody
else in the world, one whose picture, if I could take it, would be the
exact picture of you, Tom Bent."
"But I ain't done nothin' to come in as a pardner."
"Neither did I, but Will took me in as a guide, hunter and fighting man.
Don't you understand, Giant, that to get the Clarke gold we'll have to
pay the price? We'll have to fight and fight, and we'll have to risk our
lives a thousand times apiece. Why, in a case like this, you're worth a
cool hundred thousand dollars."
"Then I come in fur a tenth--ef we git it."
"You come in for the same share as the rest, share and share alike, but
I will say this to you, Little Giant, that we expect you to do the most
tremendous fighting the world has ever seen, we expect you to wipe out
whole bands of Sioux and Blackfeet by yourself while Will and me stand
by and rest, and, after it's all over, we expect you to sit down and
whistle an hour or two, until you soothe us to sleep."
"Then, on them conditions I come in as a full pardner," said Giant Tom,
and he grinned with pleasure, the most amazing grin that Will had ever
seen. It spread slowly across his face, until the great crack seemed to
reach almost to each ear, revealing a splendid set of powerful white
teeth, without a flaw. Above the chasm two large blue eyes glistened and
glowed with delight. It was all so infectious, so contagious that both
Will and Boyd grinned in return. They were not only securing for a
perilous quest a man who was beyond compare, but they were also giving
the most exquisite mental pleasure to a likable human being.
"It shorely does look," said the Little Giant, "ez ef my luck wuz goin'
to hev a turn. At any rate, I'll be with you boys, in the best company
I've had fur years."
"You and the mules rest a day," said Boyd, "and then we'll be off. We'll
keep to the mountains for a while, and then we'll curve back to the
plains, where we'll take up the line laid down on the map, and where the
going is easier. Maybe we can dodge the Sioux."
The Little Giant made his bed under one of the trees, and he slept very
soundly that night, eating prodigiously in the morning. The three were
discussing the advisability of leaving at once or of waiting until the
dusk for departure, when Will, happening to look toward the east, saw
what he took at first to be a tiny cloud in the clear blue sky. He
carried his glasses over his shoulders, and he raised them at once. The
hunter and the Little Giant had noticed his act.
"What is it, Will?" asked Boyd anxiously.
"Smoke! A big puff of it!"
"And it came from the top of that mountain to the east of the valley."
"It rose straight and fast, as if it had been sent up by some human
agency."
"And so it was. It's a signal!"
"Indians!"
"Yes, Will."
"What does it mean?"
"It means 'Attention, watch!' They've got a code almost as complete as
that of our armies when they use the signal flags. Look at that other
crest off to the north. Maybe an answer will come from it."
"There _is_ an answer. I can see it rising now from the very place you
indicate, Jim. What does the answer signify?"
"I can see it now with the naked eye. It merely says to the first, 'I've
seen you, I'm waiting. Go ahead.' Look back to the other crest."
"Two smokes are now going up there."
"They say 'Come.' It's two bands wanting to meet. Now, the other place."
"Three smokes there."
"Three means, 'We come.'"
"Now back to the other."
"Four smokes."
"Which says in good, plain English, 'We are following the enemy.' That
settles it. They've found out, some way or other, that we're here, and
the two bands mean to meet and capture or destroy us. They never
suspected that we could read their writing against the sky. We don't
wait until tonight. We leave as soon as we can get our packs on our
horses and mules."
"I'd like to make a suggestion first," said the Little Giant with some
diffidence.
"What is it?" asked Boyd.
"Suppose we stay an' have a crack at 'em before we go, jest kinder to
temper their zeal a little. I'd like to show young William that I kin
really shoot, an' sorter live up to the braggin' you've been doin'."
"No, you ferocious little man-killer. We can't think of it. We'd have a
hundred Sioux warriors on our heels in no time. Now hustle, you two!
Pack faster than you ever packed before, and we'll start inside of two
hours. Do you see any more smokes, Will?"
"No, the sky is now without a blemish."
"Which means they've talked enough and now they're traveling straight
toward our valley. It's lucky they've got such rough country to cross
before they reach us."
Inside the two hours they were headed for the western end of the valley,
the Little Giant riding one of his mules, the other following. The
wickiup was abandoned, but they brought much of the jerked meat with
them, thinking wisely of their commissariat.
It was with genuine regret that Will looked back from his saddle upon
Clarke Valley and Boyd Lake, shimmering and beautiful now in the
opalescent sunshine. They had found peace and plenty there. It was a
good place in which to live, if wild men would let one alone, and,
loving solitude at times, he could have stayed there several weeks
longer in perfect content. He caught the last gleam of the lake as they
entered the pass. It had the deep sheen of melted silver, as the waters
moved before the slow wind, and he sighed a little when a curve of the
cliff cut it wholly from view.
"Never mind, young William," said the Little Giant, "you'll see other
lakes and other valleys as fine, an' this wouldn't look so beautiful,
after all, tomorrow, filled with ragin' Sioux huntin' our ha'r right
whar it grows, squar' on top o' our heads."
Young Clarke laughed and threw off his melancholy.
"You're right," he said briskly. "The lake wouldn't look very beautiful
if a half dozen Sioux were shooting at me. You came through this pass,
now tell us what kind of a place it is."
"We ride along by the creek, an' sometimes the ledge is jest wide enough
fur the horses an' mules. We go on that way four or five miles, provided
we don't fall down the cliff into the creek an' bust ourselves apart.
Then, ag'in, purvided we're still livin', we come out into a valley,
narrow but steep, the water rushin' down it in rapids like somethin'
mad. Then we keep on down the valley with our hosses lookin' ez ef they
wuz walkin' on their heads, an' in four or five miles more, purvided, o'
course, once more that we ain't been busted apart by falls, we come out
into some woods. These woods are cut by gulleys an' ravines an' they
have stony outcrops, but they'll look good by the side o' what you hev
passed through."
"Encouraging, Giant!" laughed Will. "But hard as all this will be for us
to pass over, it will be just as hard for the Sioux, our pursuers."
"Young William," said the Little Giant approvingly, "I like to hear you
talk that way. It shows that you hev all the makin's o' them opty-mists,
the bunch o' people to which I belong. I never heard that word till
three or four years ago, when I wuz listenin' to a preacher in a minin'
camp, an' it kinder appealed to me. So I reckoned I would try to live up
to it an' make o' myself a real opty-mist. I been workin' hard at it
ever sence, an' I think I'm qualifyin'."
"You're right at the head of the class, that's where you are, Giant,"
said Boyd heartily. "You've already earned a thousand dollars out of the
mine that we're going to find, you with your whistling and cheerfulness
bracing us up so that we're ready to meet anything."
"What's the use o' bein' an opty-mist ef you don't optymize?" asked the
Little Giant, coining a word for himself. "Now, ain't this a nice,
narrow pass? You kin see the water in the creek down thar, 'bout two
hundred feet below, a-rushin' an' a-roarin' over the stones, an' then
you look up an' see the cliff risin' five or six hundred feet over your
head, an' here you are betwixt an' between, on a shelf less'n three feet
broad, jest givin' room enough fur the horses an' mules an' ourselves,
all so trim an' cosy, everythin' fittin' close an' tight in its place."
"It's a lot too close and tight for me, Giant!" exclaimed Will. "I've a
terrible fear that I'll go tumbling off the path and into the creek two
hundred feet below."
"Oh, no, you won't, young William. The people who fall off cliffs are
mighty few compared with them that git skeered 'bout it. Ef you feel
a-tall dizzy, jest ketch holt o' the tail o' that rear mule o' mine. He
won't kick, an' he won't mind it, a-tall, a-tall. Instead o' that it'll
give him a kind o' home-like feelin', bein' ez I've hung on to his tail
myself so many times when we wuz goin' along paths not more'n three
inches wide in the mountain side. You won't bother or upset him. The
biggest cannon that wuz ever forged couldn't blast him out o' the path."
Thus encouraged, young Clarke seized the tail of the mule, which plodded
unconcernedly on, and for the rest of the distance along the dizzying
heights he felt secure. Nevertheless his relief was great when they
emerged into the rough valley of which the Little Giant had spoken, and
yet more when, still pressing on, they came to the rocky and hilly
forest. Here they were all exhausted, animals and human beings alike,
and they stopped a long time in the shade of the trees.
At that point there was no sign of the valley from which they had fled,
unless one could infer its existence from the creek that flowed by.
Looking back, Will saw nothing but a mass of forest and mountain, and
then looking back a second time he saw rings of smoke rising from points
which he knew must be in their valley. He examined and counted them
through his glasses and described them to the hunter and the Little
Giant.
"The Sioux have come down and invaded our pleasant home," said Boyd.
"There's no doubt about it, and I can make a good guess that they're mad
clean through, because they found us gone. They may be signaling now to
another band to come up, and then they'll give chase. You've got to
know, Will, that nothing will make the Sioux pursue like the prospect of
scalps, white scalps. A Sioux warrior would be perfectly willing to go
on a month's trail if he found a white scalp at the end of it."
"They'll naturally think that we'll turn off toward the south so as to
hit the plains ez soon ez we kin," said the Little Giant.
"And for that reason, you think we should turn to the north instead, and
go deeper into the mountains?" said Boyd.
"'Pears sound reasonin' to me."
"Then we'll do it."
"But we don't go fur, leastways not today. It wouldn't be more'n two or
three hours till night anyhow, an' see them clouds in thar to the south,
all thickenin' up. We're going to hev rain on the mountains, an' I think
we'd better make another wickiup, ez one o' them terrible sleets may
come on."
Boyd and Will agreed with him and a mile farther they found a place that
they considered suitable, an opening in which they would not be exposed
to any tree blown down by a blizzard, but with a heavy growth of short
pines near by, among which the horses and mules might find shelter.
Then the three worked with amazing speed, and by the time the full dark
had come the wickiup was done, the skins that they had brought with them
being stretched tightly over the poles. Then, munching their cold food,
they crawled in and coiled themselves about the walls, wrapped deep in
their blankets. Contrary to the Indian custom, they left the low door
open for air, and just when Will felt himself well disposed for the
night he heard the first patter of the sleet.
It was almost pitch dark in the wickiup, but, through the opening, he
could see the hail beating upon the earth in streams of white. The old
feeling of comfort and security in face of the wildest that the
wilderness had to offer returned to him. When they reached Clarke Valley
and built their wickiup he had one powerful friend, but now when the
Sioux were once more in pursuit, he had two. The Little Giant had made
upon him an ineffaceable impression of courage, skill and loyalty that
would stand any test.
"The hail's goin' to drive all through the night," Giant Tom called out
in the darkness.
"Right you are," said the hunter, "and the Sioux won't think of trying
that pass on such a night. They're back in the valley, in wickiups of
their own."
"Might it not stop them entirely?" asked Will.
"No, young William, it won't," said the Little Giant. "They'll come
through the pass tomorrow, knowin' thar's only one way by which we kin
go, an' then try to pick up our trail when the sleet melts. But tonight,
at least, nobody's goin' to find us."
They slept late the next morning, and when they crawled out of the
wickiup they found the sleet packed about an inch deep on the ground.
The horses and mules, protected by the pines, had not suffered much,
and, in order that their trail might be hidden by the melting sleet,
they packed and departed before breakfast, choosing a northwesterly
direction. They picked the best ground, but it was all rough.
Nevertheless the three were cheerful, and the Little Giant whistled like
a nightingale.
"Ef I remember right," he said, "we'll soon be descendin', droppin' down
fast so to speak, an' then the weather will grow a heap warmer. The
sun's out now, though, an' by noon anyway all the sleet will be gone,
which will help us a lot."
They had been walking most of the time, allowing their animals to
follow, which both horses and mules did, not only through long training
but because they had become used to the companionship of men. The three
might have abandoned them, escaping pursuit in the almost inaccessible
mazes of the mountains, but no such thought entered their minds. The
horses and mules not only carried their supplies, chief among which
being the ammunition, but also the tools with which to work the mine,
and then, in Will's mind at least, they and more of them would be needed
to bring back to civilization the tons of gold.
They were now in a fairly level, though narrow, valley, and all three of
them were riding. Once more they saw far behind them smoke signals
rising, and Boyd felt sure that the Sioux somehow had blundered upon
the trail anew. Then he and the Little Giant spoke together earnestly.
"The longest way 'roun' is sometimes the shortest way through," said
Giant Tom. "It's no plains for us, not fur many days to come. I'm
thinkin' that what we've got to do is to keep on goin' deeper an' deeper
into the mountains, an' higher an' higher, too, plum' up among them
glaciers, whar the Sioux won't keer to foller. Then, when we winter a
while thar we kin turn back toward the plains an' our search."
"Looks like good reasoning to me," said Boyd. "As I told the boy here,
once, we're richer in time than anything else. We must make for the
heights. What say you, Will?"
"I'm learning patience," replied the lad. "It's better to wait than to
spill all the beans at once. Let's head straight for the glaciers."
Will felt that there was something terrible about the Sioux pursuit. He
was beginning to realize to the full the power of Indian tenacity, and
he was anxious to shake off the warriors, no matter how high they had to
go. He knew nothing of the region about them, but he had heard that
mountains in many portions of the West rose to a height of nearly three
miles. He could well believe it, as he looked north and south to
tremendous peaks with white domes, standing like vast, silent sentinels
in the sky. They were majestic to him, but not terrifying, because they
held out the promise of safety.
"If the worst came to the worst, could we live up there on one of those
slopes, a while?" he asked.
"Do you mean by that could we find game enough?" said Boyd.
"Game and shelter both."
"We could. Like as not the mountain deer are plentiful. And there's a
kind of buffalo called the wood bison, even bigger than the regular
buffalo of the plains, not often found south of Canada, but to be met
with now and then in our country. We might run across one of them, and
he'd supply meat enough to feed an army. Besides, there are bears and
deer and smaller game. Oh, we'd make out, wouldn't we, Tom?"
"We shorely would," replied the Little Giant, "but between you an' me
an' the gate post, Jim, I think I see somethin' movin' on the slope
acrost thar to the right. Young William, take your glasses an' study
that spot whar the bushes are so thick."
"I can just barely make out the figures of men among the bushes,"
announced Will, after a good look.
"Then they're Indians," said Boyd with emphasis. "You wouldn't find
white men lurking here in the undergrowth. It's a fresh band, hunters
maybe, but dangerous just the same. We'd better push on for all we're
worth."
They urged forward the horses and mules, seeking cover in the deep
forest along the slope, but without success, as a faint yell soon told
them. At the suggestion of Boyd, they stopped and examined the ground.
The way was steadily growing steeper and more difficult, and the
warriors, who were on foot could make greater speed than the fugitives.
"Lend me your glasses a minute, young William," said the Little Giant.
But he did not turn the lenses upon the Indians. Instead, he looked
upward.
"Thar's a narrow pass not fur ahead," he said. "I think we'd better draw
into it an' make a stand. The pass is deep, an' they can't assail us on
either flank. It will have to be a straight-away attack."
"That's lucky, mighty lucky," said Boyd with heartfelt thankfulness.
"Will, you push on with the animals, and maybe if you look back you'll
see that what I told you about Giant Tom's sharpshooting is true."
Will hurried the horses and mules ahead, following a shallow dip that
was the outlet of the deep pass they were seeking. Behind them he heard
again the yells of the Indian warriors, hopeful now of an unexpected
triumph. He saw their figures emerging from cover and he judged that
they were at least twenty in number. He saw also that the Little Giant
had stopped and was looking at the pursuers with a speculative eye,
while his repeating rifle lay easily in the hollow of his arm. Then he
urged the animals on and presently he looked back a second time.
He was just in time to see the breech of the rifle leap to the Little
Giant's shoulder. "Leap" was the only word to describe it, his action
was so swift and so little time did he waste in taking aim. It all
passed in an instant, as he pulled the trigger, and the foremost Indian
far down the slope threw up his arms, falling backward without a cry. In
another instant he pulled the trigger again and another Indian fell
beside the first. The whole band stopped, uttered a tremendous cry of
rage, and then darted into the undergrowth for cover.
"Two," said Boyd. "Didn't I tell you, Will, that he was a wonder with
the rifle?"
"I had to do it. I call you both to witness that I had to do it," said
the Little Giant in a melancholy voice. "I'm a hunter o' gold an' not
properly a killer o' men, even o' savage men. An' yet I find no gold,
but I do kill. Sometimes I'm sorry that I happened to be born jest a
natcherly good shot. I reckon we'd better whoop up our speed ez much ez
we kin now, 'cause after that lesson they'll hang back a while afore
follerin'."
"That's good generalship," said Boyd.
Will was already urging forward the animals, which, frightened by the
shots, were making speed of their own accord toward the pass. The hunter
and the Little Giant followed at a more leisurely gait, with their
rifles ready to beat off pursuit. Some shots were fired from the bushes,
but they fell short, and the two laughed in disdain.
"They'll have to do a lot better than that, won't they, Giant?" said the
hunter.
"A powerful sight better, but they'll hope to slip up on us in the dark.
It hurts my feelin's to hev to shoot any more of 'em, or to shoot
anybody, but I'm afeard I'll hev to do it, Jim Boyd, afore we git
through with this here piece o' business."
"In that case, Giant, just let your feelings go and shoot your best."
Will still led on, and, though his heart beat as hard as ever, it was
more from the exertion of climbing than from apprehension. He had seen
the two wonderful shots of the Little Giant, he knew what a wonderful
marksman Boyd was also, and he felt since they were within the shelter
of the pass, their three rifles might keep off any number of Sioux.
The shallow gully up which they were travelling now narrowed rapidly,
and soon they were deep in the looming shadow of the pass, which seemed
to end blindly farther on. But for the present it was a Heaven-sent
refuge. At one point, where it widened somewhat, the horses and mules
could stand, and there was even a little grass for them. A rill of water
from the high rocks was a protection against what they had to fear most
of all, thirst, and the three human beings in turn drank freely from it,
letting the animals follow.
Boyd deftly tethered the horses and mules to bushes that grew at the
foot of the cliff in the wide space, and then he joined the other two,
who, lying almost flat, were watching at the entrance to the pass. The
rocks there also gave them fine protection, and they felt they had
reached a fort which would test all the ingenuity, patience and courage
of the Sioux.
Will drew back behind a stony upthrust, sat up and used his glasses,
searching everywhere among the rocks and bushes down the pass.
"What do you see, Young William?" asked the Little Giant.
"Nothing yet, Tom, except the bushes, the stones and the slopes of the
mountains far across the valley."
"Nor you won't see nothin' fur some time. Took to cover, they hev. An' I
don't blame 'em, either. We wouldn't be anxious ourselves to walk up
ag'inst the mouths o' rifles that don't miss, an' Indians, bein' smart
people, don't risk their lives when thar's nothin' to be gained."
"Then how are they going to get at us?"
"Not straight-away, but by means o' tricks."
"What tricks?"
"I don't know. Ef they wuz so plain ez all that they wouldn't be tricks.
We'll hev to be patient."
All three of them drew back into the mouth of the pass, where they found
abundant shelter behind the stony outcrops, while the Sioux, who lay
hidden in the undergrowth farther down the slope, would be compelled to
advance over open ground, if they made a rush. Young Clarke's confidence
grew. That wonderful sharpshooting feat of the Little Giant was still in
his mind. In such a position and with such marksmen as Boyd and Bent,
they could not be overwhelmed.
"Take them glasses o' yourn, young William," said the Little Giant, "an'
see ef you can pick out any o' the Sioux down the slope."
Will was able to trace three or four warriors lying down among the short
cedars, apparently waiting with illimitable patience for any good idea
that might suggest itself. The others, though out of sight, were
certainly near and he was wondering what plan might occur to them.
"Do you think it likely that they know the pass?" he asked Boyd.
"Hardly," replied the hunter. "They are mountain Sioux, but on the whole
they prefer the plains."
"Maybe they think then that they can wait, or at least hold us until we
are overcome by thirst!"
"No, the little stream of water breaks a way down the slope somewhere,
and when they find it they'll know that it comes from the pass. I think
they'll attack, but just how and when is more'n I can say. Now, Will,
will you go back where the animals are and cook us a good supper,
including coffee? When you're besieged it's best to keep yourself well
fed and strong. I saw plenty of dead wood there, tumbled from the cliffs
above."
Young Clarke, knowing that he was not needed now at the mouth of the
pass, was more than glad to undertake the task, since waiting was hard
work.
He found the horses and mules lying down, and they regarded him with
large, contemplative eyes as he lighted the fire and began to cook
supper. The animals were on the best of terms, constituting a happy
family, and the eyes with which they regarded Will seemed to him to be
the eyes of wisdom.
"Shall we get safely out of this?" he asked, addressing himself to the
animal circle.
Either it was fact, or his imagination was uncommonly lively, as he saw
six large heads nod slowly and with dignity, but with emphasis.
"All of us?"
The six heads again moved slowly and with dignity.
"And with you, our faithful four-footed friends, and with the packs that
are so needful to us?"
The six heads nodded a little faster, but with the same dignity. Will
was just putting the coffee on to boil when he asked the last question
and received the last answer, and he stopped for a moment to stare at
the six animals, which were still regarding him with their large,
contemplative eyes. Could he refuse to believe what he thought he saw?
If fancy were not fact it often became fact a little later. Those were
certainly honest beasts and he knew by experience that they were
truthful, too, because he had never yet caught them in a lie. Animals
did not know how to lie, wherein they were different from human beings,
and while human beings were not prophets, at least in modern times,
animals, for all he knew, might be, and he certainly intended to believe
that the six, for the present, enjoyed the prophetic afflatus.
"I accept the omens as you give them," he said aloud. "From this moment
I dismiss from my mind all doubt concerning the present affair."
Then he found himself believing his own words. The omens continued to be
favorable. The coffee boiled with uncommon readiness and the strips of
venison that he fried over the coals gave forth an aroma of unparalleled
richness. Filling two large tin cups with the brown fluid he carried
them to the watchers at the mouth of the pass, who drained them, each at
a single draught.
"Best you ever made, Will," said Boyd.
"Ez good ez anybody ever made, young William," said the Little Giant.
"Now I'll bring you strips of venison and crackers," said Will, much
pleased, "and after you've eaten them you can have another cup of coffee
apiece."
His little task, his success at it, and the praise of his comrades
cheered him wonderfully. When he had taken them the second cups of
coffee and had also served himself, he put out the coals, picked up his
rifle and rejoined the others. The first faint breath of the twilight
was appearing over the mountains. The great ridges and peaks were
growing dim and afar the wind of night was moaning.
"It'll be dark soon," said the Little Giant, "an' then we'll hev to
watch with all our eyes an' all our ears. Onless the Sioux attack under
kiver o' the night they won't attack at all."
"They'll come. Don't you worry about that, Tom," said Boyd. "The Sioux
are as brave fighters as any that tread the earth, and they want our
scalps bad, particularly yours. If I was an Indian and loved scalps as
they do, I'd never rest until I got yours. The hair is so thick and it
stands up so much, I'd give it a place of honor in my tepee, and
whenever my warrior friends came in for a sociable evening's talk I'd
tell 'em how I defeated you in battle and took your scalp, which is the
king scalp."
"It's a comply-ment you make me to call my scalp the king scalp, but no
Indian will ever take it. Do you see something stirring down thar 'mong
the little cedars? Young William, them glasses o' yourn a minute or
two."
He made a careful study with the glasses, and, when he handed them back,
he announced:
"They're movin' 'mong the cedars. I made out at least a half dozen thar.
Ez soon ez it's good an' dark they're goin' to try to creep up on us.
Well, let 'em. We kin see pretty nigh ez good in the dark ez in the
light, can't we, Jim Boyd?"
"I reckon we can see good enough, Giant, to draw a bead on anything that
comes creeping, creeping after our hair."
Again Will felt pride that he was associated with two such formidable
champions of the wild, but he did not let pride keep him from selecting
a good high stony outcrop behind which he lay with his rifle ready and
his revolver loose in his belt. Now and then, however, he held his rifle
in only one hand and used the glasses so valuable to him, and which he
was beginning to prize so highly.
Much time passed, however, and it passed slowly. Young Clarke realized
that the other name for the Sioux was patience, but it was hard on his
nerves, nevertheless. He wanted to talk, he longed to ask questions of
the two borderers, but his will kept him from doing so. He was resolved
not to appear nervous or garrulous at such a time.
The night deepened. The twilight had passed long since. Many of the
stars did not come out and heavy waves of dusk rolled up the valley. The
slopes of the opposite mountain became invisible, nor did Will see the
dwarf cedars in which his glasses told him a portion of the Sioux band
had lain hidden.
The time was so long that his muscles felt stiff and sore, and he
stretched arms and legs vigorously to restore the circulation. Moreover
the elevation was so great that it was growing quite cold in the pass,
and he became eager for the warriors to attack if they were going to
attack at all. But he remembered the saying that patience was only
another name for Sioux and steeled his heart to endure.
The three were lying close together, all behind rocky upthrusts, and
after a space that seemed a thousand years or so to Will the Little
Giant edged toward him and whispered:
"Young William, you wouldn't mind lendin' me them glasses o' yourn once
more?"
"As often as you like, Giant."
"Hand 'em over, then. Even ef it's night they've got a way o' cuttin'
through the dark, an' I feel it's 'bout time now fur the Sioux to be
comin'. They like to jump on an unsuspectin' foe 'bout midnight."
He took an unusually long look and handed the glasses back to Will. Then
he whispered to both the lad and the hunter:
"I could make 'em out snakin' theirselves up the pass nigh flat on the
rock."
"They hope to get so near in the dark that they can spring up and rush
us."
"I reckon that's jest 'bout thar game, but them glasses o' young
William's hev done give them away already. The Sioux hev fixed
everythin' mighty careful, an' jest one thing that chance hez give us,
young William's glasses, is goin' to upset 'em. Take a look, Jim."
"I can see 'em, so many dark spots moving, always moving up the pass
and making no noise at all. Now, Will, you look, and after that we'll
make ready with the rifles."
Will through the glasses saw them quite plainly now, more than a score
of dark figures, advancing slowly but quite steadily. He threw the
glasses over his shoulder and took up his rifle with both hands.
"Not yet, young William," said the Little Giant. "We don't want to waste
any bullets, and so we'll wait until Jim gives the word. Ev'ry army
needs a leader. Thar ain't but three in this army, but it hez to hev a
leader jest the same and Jim Boyd is the man."
Will waited motionless, but he could not keep his heart from beating
hard, as the Sioux, ruthless and bold, came forward silently to the
attack. He did not have the infinite wilderness experience of the older
two which had hardened them to every form of danger, and his imagination
was alive and leaping. The dusky forms which he could now faintly see
with the naked eye were increased by fancy threefold and four, and his
eager finger slipped to the trigger of his rifle. He was sure they ought
to fire now. The Sioux were certainly near enough! If they came any
closer before meeting the bullets of the defense they would have a good
chance to spring up and make a victorious rush. But the word to fire did
not come. He glanced at their leader, and Boyd was still calmly
watching.
The three lay very close together, and Will heard the hunter whisper to
the Little Giant:
"How much nearer do you think I ought to let 'em come, Tom?"
"'Bout ten feet more, I reckon, Jim. Then though it's night, thar would
be no chance fur a feller to miss, onless he shet his eyes, an' we want
all our bullets to hit. Indians, even the bravest, don't like to rush
riflemen that are ez good ez a batt'ry. Ef we strike 'em mighty hard the
first time they'll fall back on tricks an' waitin'."
"Good sound reasoning, Tom. You hear, Will. Be sure you don't miss."
"I won't," replied the lad. Nevertheless those ten minutes, every one of
them, had a way of spinning themselves out in such an extraordinary
manner that his nerves began to jump again, and it required a great
effort of the will to keep them quiet. The black shadows were
approaching. They had passed over a stretch of rough ground that he had
marked four or five minutes before, and the outlines of the figures were
growing more distinct. He chose one on the extreme right for his aim. He
could not yet see his features, of course, but he was quite certain that
they were ugly and that the man was a warrior wicked beyond belief.
Before he could fire upon anyone from ambush it was necessary for him to
believe the man at whom he aimed to be utterly depraved, and the
situation created at once such a belief in his mind.
He kept his eye steadily upon the ugly and wicked warrior, and as he
watched for his chance and awaited the word from Boyd all scruples about
firing disappeared from his mind. It was that warrior's life or his, and
the law of self-preservation controlled. Nearer and yet nearer they came
and the time had grown interminable when the hunter suddenly said in a
low voice:
"Fire!"
Young Clarke pulled the trigger with a sure aim. He saw the hideous
warrior draw himself into a bunch that sprang convulsively upward, but
which, when it fell, lay back, outspread and quiet. Then he fired at a
second figure, but he was not sure that he hit. The hunter and the
Little Giant were already sending in their third and fourth bullets,
with deadly aim, Will was sure, and the Sioux, after one mighty yell,
wrenched from them by rage, surprise and fear, were fleeing down the
pass under the fierce hail from the repeating rifles.
In a half minute all the shadows, save those outlined darkly on the
ground, were gone, and there was complete and utter silence, while the
light smoke from the rifles drifted about aimlessly, there being no
wind. The three did not speak, but slipping in fresh cartridges
continued to gaze down the pass. Then Will heard a wild, shrill scream
behind him that made him leap a foot from the ground, and that set all
his nerves trembling. The next moment he was laughing at himself. One of
the horses had neighed in terror at the firing, and there are few things
more terrifying than the terrified shriek of a horse.
"Maybe you'd better go back and see 'em, Will," said Boyd. "They may
need quieting. I've noticed that you've a gentle hand with horses, and
that they like you."
"And mules too," said the Little Giant. "Mine hev already taken a fancy
for young William. But mules are much abused critters. You treat 'em
well an' they'll treat you well, which is true of all tame animals."
Young Clarke suspected that they were sending him back to steady his own
nerves as well as those of the animals after such a fierce encounter,
but if so he was glad they had the thought. He was willing enough to go.
"Nothing will happen while you're gone," said Boyd cheerfully. "The
Sioux, of course, would try to rush us again if they knew you were away,
but they won't know it."
Will crawled until he came to a curve of the cliff that would hide him
from any hidden Indian marksman, and then he rose to his feet, glad that
he was able to stand upright. He found the horses and mules walking
about uneasily at the ends of their lariats, but a few consoling strokes
from him upon their manes quieted all of them, and, if they found
comfort in his presence, he also found comfort in theirs.
Then he kneeled and drank at the rill, as if he had been parching in a
desert for days.