LISH DECIDES TO MOVE.
The wolfer had brought Tom to the hills with him for a purpose. He
intended to make him do all the drudgery of the camp, and to increase
his own profits in the spring by stealing the skins the boy might find
time to capture.
But Tom was not long in discovering that his catch was not likely to be
very large. He was expected to cook all the meals and cut all the wood
for the fire.
As their larder was not very well supplied, the cooking did not amount
to much, but the chopping did.
Being more accustomed to handling a pen than he was to swinging an axe,
he made very slow progress with this part of his work, and by the time
it was done there were but a few hours of daylight left.
Still he did manage to take a few pelts, and it seemed to him that he
ought to have taken more, for some of his baits were always missing, and
on following up the trail that led from them, he not unfrequently found
the carcasses of the wolves that had eaten the baits—minus the skins.
Lish was systematically robbing him. Knowing where the boy put out his
baits, he visited them early every morning, taking as many skins as he
thought he could without exciting his companion’s suspicion, and then
going off to hunt up his own.
“He’ll never know the difference,” Lish often said to himself, “an’ I
don’t reckon it makes any odds to me if he does, fur if he opens his
yawp I’ll wear a hickory out over his back. The spelter’ll all be mine
some day, anyhow. I aint a-goin’ to show him the way to this nice wolf
ground an’ give him grub an’ pizen fur nothin’, I bet you!”
“This is some more of my honest partner’s work,” Tom would say when he
found the body of a wolf from which the skin had been removed. “It beats
the world what miserable luck I do have! I can’t make a cent, either
honestly or dishonestly. Oscar knew what he was talking about when he
said that Lish intended to rob me. Why didn’t I go up to the fort to see
him, as he wanted me to do, instead of making myself unhappy over his
good luck? If he were only here now how quickly I’d bundle up my share
of the skins and find my way to his camp!”
We have said that things always went wrong with Lish, but that is not in
strict accordance with the facts.
There was one hour in every twenty-four during which he allowed his good
nature to triumph over the tyrant in his disposition, and that always
happened at night, provided his own catch had been tolerably fair, and
he had been able to steal a few skins from Tom without being caught in
the act.
On these occasions Lish entered into friendly conversation with his
partner over his pipe, during which he never failed to make a good many
inquiries concerning Oscar and his business, and he seemed particularly
desirous of finding out just how the young taxidermist looked and acted.
This led Tom to believe that Lish was greatly interested in his brother
and his movements, and so he was; for he had not yet been able to settle
down into the belief that his plan for keeping Oscar out of the hills
would prove successful.
Through the influence of Big Thompson a compromise of some kind might be
effected between Oscar and the ranchman, or the boy might purchase the
stolen mule and wagon.
In either case he and his guide would be able to continue their journey
with but little delay, and come into the valley in spite of the wolfer’s
efforts to keep them away from it.
This was what Lish was afraid of, and it was one cause of his constant
ill-humor.
When the snow fell and blocked the gorge he would feel safe, and not
before. The wolfer knew Big Thompson, but Oscar he did not know,—he did
not have time to take a very good look at him when he met him in the
sage-brush,—and he wanted to learn all about him, so that he would be
sure to recognize him if he chanced to encounter him in the valley. He
had another idea in his head too; and what it was shall be told further
on.
The wished-for storm came at last, and Tom was disposed to grumble
sullenly when he awoke the next morning and found three inches of snow
on his blanket; but Lish was as gay as a lark, and excited the
suspicions of his companion by offering to help him prepare the
breakfast.
All the wolfer’s fears were banished now. If Big Thompson was not in the
valley already, he would not be likely to get there at all, for the gale
must have filled the gorge full of snow. But Lish wanted to satisfy
himself entirely on this point; so he left the camp as soon as he had
eaten his bacon and cracker, and, after stealing a few skins from Tom,
set out to visit the lower end of the valley.
On his way there, he struck the trail of two mule-deer, and this caused
him to postpone his reconnoissance for the present. He was getting tired
of bacon, and believing that a fresh steak for dinner would be more
palatable, he took up the trail at once, and followed it at the top of
his speed.
About two miles further on the trail left the valley and turned toward
the hills. When Lish saw this he deposited his wolf-skins in the fork of
a small tree, and having thus put himself in light running order, he
went ahead faster than ever.
By the time he had run himself almost out of breath he had the
satisfaction of discovering, by signs which an experienced hunter can
readily detect, that he was closing in upon the game.
He had already begun to look around for it, when he was startled almost
out of his moccasins by the report of a rifle, which sounded close at
hand, followed by a tremendous crashing in the bushes, as a fine doe
broke cover and dashed down a hill a short distance away.
Lish could easily have shot her, as she passed without seeing him; but
he never thought of it. His whole mind was concentrated on something
else. Who fired that gun? Being determined to find out, the wolfer ran
to the edge of the bluff and looked over.
“That thar letter that Tom writ an’ put on to Ike Barker’s door didn’t
stop ’em, arter all,” said Lish to himself, as he stretched his long
neck out to its full length, and took a good survey of the hunter below
him. “Here’s one of them pizen critters now. He’s gone an’ killed my
black-tail, an’ now he’s a-yellin’ for Big Thompson. So ye’re the chap
as wanted to have me put into the guard-house ag’in, be ye? Fur two
cents I’d——”
The wolfer finished the sentence by drawing his rifle to his shoulder,
as if he were about to shoot.
After taking a good aim at Oscar’s head he lowered the weapon and looked
nervously about him, at the same time listening for Big Thompson’s
reply. He wanted to see which way it came from, so that he could secure
his own safety by running off in another direction.
But there was no answer to Oscar’s repeated calls, and the wolfer
finally mustered up courage enough to start for camp, not forgetting to
stop on the way and take down the bundle of skins he had left in the
tree.
Hearing nothing of his dreaded enemy, his fears left him after a while,
and he was able to think the matter over and make up his mind what he
would do about it. One thing was certain—he dared not remain longer in
that valley, for there was no knowing at what moment he and Big Thompson
might run against each other in the woods. In order to avoid that it was
necessary to break camp at once and start for new hunting grounds.
“I won’t tell Tom who them fellers is,” thought the wolfer as he neared
his camp, “for if I do he’ll run off and jine ’em. Now whar is he, do ye
reckon? He’s allers off when he’s wanted to hum.”
Tom, having completed his morning’s drudgery, had gone out to visit the
baits he had scattered around the day before, and he did not come in
until it was almost dark.
Lish waited and watched for him with no little impatience, constantly
harassed by the fear that Tom would somehow discover that his brother
was in the valley, in which case he knew that he would be obliged to
pass the rest of the winter alone, doing all his own work about the
camp, and catching all his own skins. Tom was too valuable an assistant
to be given up, and the wolfer resolved to hold fast to him as long as
he could.
Tom came in at last, staggering under the weight of his day’s catch, and
was instantly put on his guard by the friendly greeting his partner
extended to him.
The wolfer’s cordiality, however, was all assumed for the occasion. If
Lish had acted out his feelings he would have abused Tom soundly for
being so long absent from camp, and, in his rage, he might have done
something even worse; but knowing that it would not be safe to say or do
too much just then, he bottled up his wrath, to be held in reserve until
some future occasion, and said cheerfully:
“Pard, ye’ve done fine; ye have so. An’ yer the green young feller that
wanted me to show ye how to pizen wolves! Ye know more about the
business now nor I do, an’ I’ve follered it a good many years. Now I
reckon ye must be a trifle tired arter packin’ all them skins so fur,
an’ if ye’ll cook the supper I’ll chop the wood.”
“What’s up, I wonder?” thought Tom, as he threw his hides down in one
corner of the lean-to. “He don’t speak that way to me unless he wants me
to do something for him. Well,” he added aloud, “where is it?”
“Whar’s what?” asked Lish.
“The deer, or whatever it was, that you shot. I heard the report of your
gun.”
“So ye did; but I didn’t get him. I missed him.”
Lish put a stop to the conversation by grabbing the axe and going at the
pile of fuel in front of the cabin as if he meant to do something; but
when he had cut a few sticks of half-decayed wood he was tired enough to
stop and rest.
“Say, pard,” he exclaimed, “I’ve been a prospectin’ to-day! The varmints
aint by no means as plenty about yere as they had ought to be, but I
know whar thar’s piles of ’em in a leetle valley ’bout ten miles deeper
into the hills. We want to go whar the wolves is, ye know; so to-morrow
mornin’ we’ll pack up bright an’ arly an’ dig out.”
“Oh, that’s what you want, is it?” thought Tom. “Well, I don’t care
where we go. I’ve got to endure your detestable company all winter, I
suppose, and I might as well be in one place as another. I shall not see
a happy day anywhere.”
“What do ye say, pard?” exclaimed Lish.
“I say all right,” was the indifferent reply.
That this was all the wolfer wanted was evident from his actions. He
threw down the axe, declaring that he was awful tired after his long
tramp, and picking out the warmest place beside the fire, he took
possession of it, leaving Tom to cook the supper and cut the wood
besides.