"A man in a bearskin coat--an Indian?"
"Oh no. Can't you see him?"
"No! Where?"
"Look yonder across that bare slope that glistens in the sun as if the
rock were granite."
"Yes, I see where you mean--a little higher up than we are."
"That's right. Now, just above it there's a patch of green running up
to the fir-trees, all low bushes sprinkled about with the rocks
between."
"Yes," said Chris, "I can see that too. Well?"
"Look, look, Chris," cried Ned; "I can see it now--there, just crossing
from one lot of bushes to another. There it goes."
"Yes, I see now. Why, you mean wool, Griggs. It's a mountain-sheep.--
No, it isn't," cried Chris excitedly; "it's a bear."
"Yes, all alive, oh! and in his skin coat."
"And quite beyond reach, unless we stalk him. I say, Griggs, how lucky!
Is that a grizzly?"
"Oh, no; they're twice as big. That's only a brown bear."
"But is he coming after our mules?"
"Not he. He's hunting for wild fruit--berries and things of that sort."
"Then it's not a dangerous one?"
"Not if you leave him alone. He'd show fight, though, I dare say, if
you went after him."
"Let's climb higher up and get above him. We can easily get a shot at
him then," said Chris.
"Do you want his skin?" said Griggs.
"No."
"Well, you wouldn't care about eating him, though bear ham isn't bad."
"Oh, we don't want to eat him," cried Ned, watching the movements of the
brute eagerly.
"You don't want his fat to make bear's grease for your hair, do you?"
"Of course not."
"Then I'd leave him alone. We've plenty of ammunition now, but we don't
want to waste any."
"But suppose he had been a grizzly?" said Chris, bringing the glass to
bear on the distant animal.
"If it had been a grizzly I should say the best thing would be to let
him alone, and the same with a cinnamon, for they're very dangerous
beasts. If either of them came smelling after the mules or ponies of
course it would be a different thing. There wouldn't be room enough for
him and us too on the same mountain side. Well! he's gone, hasn't he?"
"Yes, right up amongst the fir-trees."
"Ah, he'll be much safer there," said Griggs. "You fellows would be
tempted to have a shot at him if he came within reach. Now then, lend
me the glass."
The binocular was handed to him, and while the two lads stood watching
the woodland patch where the bear had disappeared, in expectation of its
coming into sight again, the American stood sweeping the horizon and
then bringing the glass to bear upon the wondrous view in every
direction where he could bring mountain, valley, hill, and plain into
the field of the glass.
He had turned slowly till he was gazing in the direction from which they
had come, leaving what looked like a band of deep green, to bring the
glass to bear upon the pale ash-coloured desert part, which rapidly
brightened into silvery grey, and from that became like the sea,
half-hidden by a soft haze which died away into the sky-line.
Quite ten minutes must have passed away, the boys having been too much
occupied with the bear to heed their companion, when Ned said in a
disappointed tone--
"Gone! I should have liked to shoot that bear."
"And had his skin," said Chris. "But look at Griggs," he added, in a
whisper; "he can see something.--What are you looking at?" cried the
boy, aloud.
"That patch far away over the salt plain. You can't see it with the
naked eye.--Yes: I can, but it only looks like a shadow. Here, try the
glass."
He handed the binocular to the boy, who looked but could see nothing
till his companion had given him a hint or two to follow an imaginary
line upward from one of the eminences below.
Chris caught the object sought then.
"Yes," he cried, "I see. Why, it's a herd of buffalo!"
"Try again," said Griggs.
"Yes: a herd of buffalo," said Chris, lowering his glass and trying to
fix the object with his eyes. "I can see it without the glass. Just
like a cloud-shadow in the glistening, heaving plain, and moving slowly.
I shouldn't have thought that buffalo would be seen on a dry place like
that."
"Let me look," cried Ned, and after a try or two he caught the object
visible through the glass.
"Yes, buffalo," he said, "and they're moving slowly."
"Coming this way?" said Griggs.
"I can't hold the glass steadily enough to make sure. Yes, I can see
now; they're not coming straight for here, but they seem to be sloping
across as if to get to the rich grass. That must be it, I think."
"Very likely," said Griggs quietly. "Hunting."
"Yes, hunting for grass," said Chris. "Let's have another look, Ned."
He caught the glass and took a long look at the dimly-seen distant patch
on the plain, to cry decisively without lowering the instrument--
"Yes; you're quite right, Ned. Why, they must be miles away. I should
never have seen them. What eyes you have, Griggs!"
"Been used more than yours have, lad, and that has made them a bit
keener, I suppose. Try again, and see whether you can see buffalo."
"Yes," said Chris, after a long pause, "buffalo, and they're coming what
you call it--diagonally across the country."
"That's right," said Griggs; "but they're not buffalo."
"What then? They're too big to be wolves."
"Yes," said Griggs coolly; "it's a big band of mounted Indians. Come
down, quick."
The news they had to carry was too important to admit of delay, and the
little party hurried down to camp, where fortunately as soon as the
doctor had brought the glass to bear he was able to announce that the
Indians were not visible from the sheltered nook that had been chosen on
account of the trees and rocks around.
"It's fortunate for us that they have no telescope in their
civilisation," said Bourne.
"Ah, but they have far sharper eyes than we have, sir," said Griggs.
"What do you mean to do, doctor?"
"Send you up above again with the glass while we get the animals
together ready for a start if it should prove necessary. The enemy are
miles away yet."
"Yes, sir, and it's hardly likely that they will come up here unless
they see us or hit upon our trail. What do you say to the boys taking
the glass up higher? You'll want me."
"Very well," replied the doctor. "Go up, boys, and while one keeps his
eyes upon their movements, the other can act as messenger and come and
tell us whether the situation gets better or worse."
The two lads started at once, eager to undertake the task like men, but
in five minutes they were back like boys.
"What is it?" said the doctor eagerly. "Are the Indians coming on?"
"No, father," said Chris, hesitating, for he stopped short, and Bourne
looked anxiously at his son.
"You two have not been disagreeing?" he said sharply.
"No, father, not disagreeing," said Ned, "but--"
"Come, out with it," cried the doctor sternly. "Why have you both come
back?"
"We've come back for orders, father," said Chris, with a sharp look at
Ned.
"I thought I had given you full explanation as to what I wish you to
do," said the doctor.
"Not quite, father. You left something out."
"What is it? Quick; we have no time to spare."
"You didn't say which of us was to have the glass and do the looking
out."
The doctor uttered a low angry sound which had he been a dog would have
been called a growl, before saying firmly--
"Ned is to use the glass, and you are to be messenger, for your words
and tone say plainly enough that you have been stickling for your right
to the glass, when you should at such a time of emergency have been
ready to give up for the sake of all. Off with you."
"Serve you right," said Ned, as they climbed quickly up towards the
place from whence they had first seen the Indians. "If it had been my
father's glass I'd have given up in a moment instead of laying claim to
it."
Chris was silent, and involuntarily he touched both of his cheeks, as if
to feel whether they were as hot outside as they were in.
He found them hotter, and they grew hotter still by the time they had
reached their lookout, creeping to it during the last fifty yards and
keeping behind stones and bushes and every other bit of cover in their
way. "Wo-ho!" cried Chris cheerily then, as he lay on his chest looking
down towards the salt plain, with the nettled feeling dying out fast.
"Come on; you can see capitally from here."
"Oh!" cried Ned sharply.--"Here, catch hold."
As he spoke he held out the glass.
"What's the matter?"
"Something in my right eye.--I can't see."
He was rubbing it violently, and it certainly looked red and inflamed.
"Got something in it?"
"Yes, a fly or a bit of dust, or else I've rubbed it too hard. You must
look out, and I'll take the messages."
"Father's orders were that you should use the glass and I was to take
the messages."
"Yes, I know," cried Ned irritably, "but who's to use a glass with a fly
in his eye?"
"Lie down and turn over. I'll take it out with a bit of grass," said
Chris gruffly.
"No, no, catch hold of the glass and don't waste time. I shall be able
to rub it out directly."
"Better let me wipe it out gently with the strand of grass. I shan't
hurt you."
"Yes, you will. Eye's such a tender part. I know; I'll pull the lid up
and look at the sun. Then it'll water horribly, and wash the fly away."
"No, it won't," said Chris.
"What!--How do you know?"
"Because it isn't a fly."
"What!" cried Ned, whose cheeks were scarlet, as much as could be seen
for one hand held over the closed eye.
"You heard what I said," cried Chris. "It isn't a fly."
"What is it, then?" said Ned, who kept on rubbing hard at the inflamed
part. "A bit of grit or dust?"
"No, it's a fib, and it's in both your eyes."
"What?"
"There, don't keep on whating about it. I can see it quite plainly."
"Don't talk nonsense," cried Ned hurriedly. "Can't you see how it hurts
me?"
"Yes; but you needn't have told a cram about it."
"What should I tell an untruth for?" cried Ned hotly.
"Because you wanted to cheat me into using the glass because you thought
I was hurt and disappointed."
"I tell you one of my eyes smarts horribly."
"Of course it does--stuffing your knuckles into it and rubbing like
that. There, focus the glass and look out."
"I can't see clearly with my right eye, Chris, honour bright. Catch
hold."
"If a fellow tells you a fib once, you don't believe him next time."
"What do you want me to say to make you believe me? It does hurt,
really."
"Say there was no fly in the case, to begin with."
"Will you use the glass if I do?"
"If you can make me believe that you can't see well."
"Look, then," cried Ned, and he dropped his hand, to open his right eye,
which was quite bloodshot, "Now, is it likely that I can see steadily
with that aching and watering so that I'm half blind?"
"No," said Chris quietly, and he took the glass and began to focus it on
a distant object. "Now, own up; you did rub that hard on purpose?"
Ned was silent.
"I'm going to give you the glass back," cried Chris.
"No, you're not; and you're going to have a good look out. But I say,
mind; don't let the sun shine on the glass, or the Indians may see the
flash. Pull out the sunshades."
"I have," said Chris, taking a long look out in the direction of the
enemy.
"See 'em?"
"No. All's clear there."
"Take a good long sweep round and keep watching till you find out where
the Indians are. I'm going down to the bottom of the fall to bathe my
eye. It is bad."
"Make haste, then."
"All right. Call or whistle when you see them. I shall hear you."
Chris nodded and grunted, and then went on examining every part of the
plain below, but without result, and he thought and muttered to himself
the while.
"He needn't have told a fib over it. Now, I wonder where those red
niggers are.--He might have known that I should see through him at
once.--A nigger can't be red. That's stupid.--It was rather nice of old
Ned, though. I'm afraid I shouldn't have done as much for him.--They
must have gone in amongst the grass and trees somewhere about there. I
wish I could see them. But I don't think they're after us--only
hunting."
He lay stretched out on his chest, slowly moving the glass so that he
could sweep the edge of the plain; but the time went on, and the mounted
party might, after all, have been a cloud-shadow for all the sign that
he could see, and at last he began to grow weary and think of whistling
to Ned to come up to him.
"He ought to have been back again by now."
The words had hardly been muttered before Chris started, for a hand was
laid upon his leg.
"See 'em?"
"No. I was just going to whistle. How's your eye?"
"Getting all right again now. But you ought to be able to see the
enemy. Have you looked well?"
For answer Chris began to shuffle himself back, moving on hands and toes
till he was level with Ned.
"Looked well? Of course. Here, you catch hold and have a good look
yourself.--Ah! Don't you say another word about that eye, or we shall
fall out. I know: you've bathed it well, and it's ever so much better.
Catch hold, I say."
Ned took the glass without a word and crept up to the stone which had
sheltered the observer, and there was silence for a few minutes, during
which Chris's patience became exhausted.