IMPRISONED IN THE FREE TRAPPERS’ PASS.
Tom Rutter was well acquainted with every inch of the country over
which he had determined to travel. He was now striking for a spot which
he judged to be most suitable for him under the present circumstances,
and which he also, with some reason, judged to be a sure retreat,
for the time, at least. Though perhaps it would have been his best
policy to have moved on immediately to the regular hunting-grounds of
the tribe, yet, for several reasons, did he prefer to linger in this
vicinity. The detachment which had separated from him, and which was
to form a junction at the river, had not yet made its appearance, and
until it did he did not feel justified in leaving. He was not afraid
of immediate pursuit by the trappers, and would much prefer letting
some of the Blackfeet braves arrive at their village before him. Then
it would be apparent that he was a deserted rather than a deserter,
one who, encumbered as he was by a prisoner, nevertheless remained
behind till the last shot was fired. Therefore it was that he turned
the horses’ heads toward the mountains, appearing to Adele as though he
were determined to ride, at a racing speed, straight up their rugged
sides.
Gradually an opening became evident--a rough, seldom-travelled, and
almost impracticable pass--apparently extending through into the
Oregonian territory, on the other side.
Man and beast being so well acquainted with the route, the rate of
speed was scarcely diminished. On either side towered the mountain,
the almost perpendicular walls covered with draperies of green at the
top, where the moonlight fell; but lower down, dark and chill. Eyesight
could be of little avail here, without a thorough knowledge of the
place and its surroundings.
And still, as Rutter clattered on, an answering noise from behind, as
it were an echo, showed that the pursuer held his own. A dark smile
swept over the blood-smeared face of the renegade, as he listened to
the noise.
“Come on, come on, close behind. Ye come fast, but it may be a long
time afore ye take the back trail at sich a rate. Them as comes in at
Free Trappers’ Pass sometimes gits passed out. We’re safe here; but
that’s more than him behind kin say.”
In order to prevent Adele from leaping down, and endeavouring to escape
in darkness, Tom changed his position so that she could not make the
attempt at dismounting without leaping straight into his arms. There
was little necessity for this movement. Had it been light he could have
seen that no such thought entered the brain of the young captive. She
only clung tightly in her seat, and, in breathless suspense, awaited
the end.
For half-a-mile, at least, the two horses plunged on through the
dimness, and then, at a slight touch on the bridles, they turned to one
side, and began ascending an inclined plain, which led along the wall
of the pass.
“Steady, gal,” said Tom, in a coarse, thick whisper. “Be keerful how
yer move now, for two feet out of the road might break that purty neck
o’ yours. A stumble over these rocks is an ugly thing, and Tom Rutter’s
work would all go for nothin’ if you got it.”
For a second the idea of self-destruction flashed through Adele’s mind.
What so easy as to fling herself away over the rocks, and at once put
an end to her troubles, and to life itself? Friendless and alone, in
the power of an outlawed desperado, with but little hope of succour,
why should she longer live?
It was but for a second. Far behind, from the darkness, echoed the
sound of a horse’s hoof striking against a stone--she was not entirely
deserted--friends yet sought her; rescue might be near at hand. Why,
then, despond? The steeds ceased their upward motion. For the present
their journey was at an end.
Apparently proceeding from the solid rock, a stout, squat-figured man
emerged, bearing in his hand a small lantern. He glanced at the two a
moment; then, in a hard, dry voice:
“So yer comin’ back to the nest once more, Tom Rutter; and you bring a
purty bird along. Come in, and I’ll put the hosses away.”
“Shade that light, will yer, if yer don’t want a ball to come up here.
Thar’s somebody comin’ through the pass that’s lookin’ for somethin’
he’s lost, and if he catches sight o’ that glim, there may be an extra
job put out that I don’t keer about havin’ a hand in.”
“Ho, ho!” laughed the man with the lantern, as he put the slide down.
“Ho, ho! somebody looking for a lost thing in Free Trappers’ Pass!
There’s lots o’ them things goes in, but powerful few goes out. What’s
he lost, Tom? A bit calico, or a back load o’ pelts, or a money purse?
Them’s bad things to loose on the prairie or mountains, but nice to
find, most mighty nice, most--”
Here his words became indistinct, for he had entered a fissure in
the rocks; but something very like an oath emphasized the concluding
sentence. Tom Rutter and Adele followed.
The light from the lantern, which was now permitted to stream forth,
was but barely sufficient to give the captive some idea of where she
was.
The air felt damp and cave-like to her, and, looking around, Adele saw,
as, indeed, she expected to see, that the place was part of a cavern,
of how great an extent it was impossible to say. The man who was, for
the time being, porter, led the horses to one side, and then returned
to where Rutter was standing.
“Come on, Tom; we have the kennel all to ourselves to-night. All the
boys are out, an’ if Big Dick don’t come back, we’ll hev a nice evenin’
of it. Strike into the room, an’ tell us whar you come from, how you
got that bloody face, and whar you picked up that young squaw. I ain’t
seen a face for three or four days, an’ am splittin’ for somebody to
talk to.”
The renegade did not appear to be in a very loquacious humour, but
he followed the advice of the man insomuch that he “struck” into the
room, to all appearance only too glad to find that the place was not
tenanted by the usual dwellers therein.
The underground retreat was of considerable size. The room in which
they all three finally occupied was at least twenty feet square; the
one through which they had passed was much longer, while a curtain of
skins did not entirely conceal the passage to other rooms farther on.
An air of rude hospitality was visible on Tom Rutter’s face, and in his
talk and actions, as he motioned Adele to a seat.
“Take a seat, gal, an’ don’t be skeered. No one is goin’ to hurt ye,
and yer wants’ll be pervided for as long as this here hand kin hold a
rifle. It’s only a necessary o’ war that makes me do this, an’ I’ll
take care that no hurt comes to ye, though I won’t say how soon or how
long you’ll stay in the camps o’ the Blackfeet; that’s somethin’ I
ain’t got the say about.”
Adele sunk on the pile of skins pointed out by the renegade.
One thing only somewhat reassured her. Tom had treated her with more
deference than she could by any means have expected, and, somehow,
there was an air of honesty about him, when he assured her of support
and protection that was almost satisfactory to her, and which caused
the other man to open his eyes, as though astonished to see anything
like honour in a renegade, and sometime denizen of Free Trappers’ Pass.
In his rough way, Tom intimated, if she desired it, some refreshment
would be prepared; but Adele shook her head in the negative.
“I s’pose yer sleepy, then, and so just follow me, and I’ll show you
whar you may turn in.”
Mechanically the girl obeyed Rutter, and followed him through the
curtained aperture. A short, narrow passage led into another apartment,
somewhat smaller than the one they had just left. Strange it was, yet
did it seem to her that the air was too dry for an underground room,
and it was almost impossible to realize that it was not part of a
legitimate dwelling-house.
Placing the lamp--a rude dish containing bear’s oil--upon the lid of
the chest, Tom, with a few words, intended to quiet and soothe the
feelings of the unwilling guest, turned and retraced his steps, leaving
Adele alone in the guest-chamber of the outlaws’ retreat.
She did not feel at all like sleeping. Her situation was not one which
would be apt to act opiatewise on her nerves. Just as the waning light
shot up in one last expiring gleam, then disappeared, leaving her in
the dark, she heard the sound of voices coming from the front part
of the cave. Without any settled reason, she rose from her seat, and
groped her way to the entrance of her prison.
Light as the evening breeze touches the fallen leaves and moss carpets
of the forest, her feet fell upon the cold earthen floor of the
passage. A square of light marked the curtain of the ante-chamber, and
here Adele paused. The sound was no longer a hum, but every word of
the speakers was uttered with distinctness, so that the listener could
understand the conversation fully.
Evidently there was an addition to the number, for there was a voice
heard--rough, boisterous, well suited for the utterance of round,
rolling oaths. Probably, this man was “Big Dick,” spoken of by the
porter, as one who might possibly make his appearance before morning.
This man was speaking.
“He came so almighty suddent along, and made sich a cussed noise, that
I thort he war one of us, a course. To make sure, I hailed him, but
he didn’t stop, only licked up his hoss, an’ come faster than ever.
I knowed ef it war any of they boys, they wouldn’t be doin’ any sich
tricks, so I throwed my shootin’-iron up to shoulder, and let drive
whar I thort he mout be. The noise stopped most mighty suddent fur a
second, and then I heard a hoss gallop away in sich a manner, as said
he hadn’t any rider aback of him. It war a good shot to make in the
dark.”
What answer would have been given, was interrupted by the entrance of
yet another man, who immediately exclaimed:
“We’ll hev to lay low and keep dry for a few hours, my coves, for
there’s more’n fifty red-skins hoverin’ ’long that way: and they ain’t
comin’ very peaceably, either. They’re bound to blaze, from their
looks.”
“Whar yer from, Bill?” said Big Dick, “an’ whar did ye see them
red-skins? I’ve jist been a tellin’ how I wiped someone out in the
pass, here, but I didn’t see anything like Injun signs.”
“I war down South Branch, somewhat on the scout; and I see lots of
people goin’ about, all of ’em with lot of arms and nary plunder, but
those red-skins are strikin’ fur the pass, strait, an’ from the looks
of ther top-knots, I should take ’em to be Crows.”
“What the ---- are Crows Injuns doin’ up here?” queried Dick.
“On the war trail, I guess.”
“Waal, there’s no ust a pickin’ a fout with ’em, and it’s a hard matter
to meet with anybody, we don’t,--so we kin jist keep under kiver, an’
act cautious till they’re cleared out.”
Adele Robison listened for a short time longer, but finally determined
that it was best to retire.
A heavy burden rested upon her young heart. Someone had probably been
shot in the pass. That “someone” was doubtless the friend who had so
closely followed on after the flight at the crossing of the Marias
River.
Who was it?
Her heart grew faint, and her mind dared not suggest an answer. At last
sleep came to soothe her wearied brain. It was a calm and quiet sleep,
that lasted a long time. At least, so it appeared to Adele when she
awoke. In the darkness she lay and wondered where she was, how long she
must remain, how it would end.
Tom Rutter’s appearance, with refreshments, told her that without the
cave it was daylight.
He was very silent. From anything he might say, she could glean no
information as to the probable length of her stay in the cavern, and
her ultimate destination after having emerged therefrom. She would have
asked, concerning the movements of the Indians, whom she had overheard
mentioned as approaching on the previous night, but she cared not to
confess herself an eaves-dropper. Tom saved her from trouble on that
score, by saying, just as he was leaving:
“Keep yer heart up for the next few days. Thar’s a consid’rable lot
o’ Injuns about here, that I don’t keer about meetin’ jist now. Ef
we don’t do that, we’ll hev to lay down here till they clar out, and
there’s no sartainty when that’ll be.”