MEETING OF ARCHER AND PARSONS.
We need scarcely tell the reader that the horseman at whom Dawson had
fired was none other than Waving Plume. As he recklessly urged his
horse along the rugged pass, he heard the hail of the outlaw, but
thought not of answering it. Then suddenly and furiously did his horse
turn, that before he could well understand what had happened, Archer
found himself upon the ground in the midst of his whole equipage, while
the animal was almost out of hearing.
Confusedly rubbing his head, he was about rising to his feet, when a
hand of iron rested upon his shoulder, and a low voice whispered in his
ear:
“Keep still, boy, ef yer wants ter come out o’ this place with a clean
skin. Yer in a heap o’ danger.”
There was something familiar in the tone which, with the good
sense of request, caused him to lie still, and await what this
suddenly-introduced friend would have him to do. Silence reigned in
the pass. At times he could hear the low breathing of the person by
his side; once, for a few moments, he heard the noise of footsteps, as
Big Dick sought the entrance of his retreat; but with these exceptions
all was still. Perhaps a quarter of an hour had passed ere, becoming
impatient, he whispered:
“All is now quiet, what is to be done next?”
“Right, by mighty!” responded the strange friend. “I knowed it war you,
Charley Archer--rather an awkward tumble o’ yourn, but no bones broke,
I suppose. Keep quiet a leetle bit longer, till we kin see ef them as
fired that shot is agoin’ to deny anything.”
The speaker was Jacob Parsons. So soon as Waving Plume recognized him,
he felt assured, in his own mind, of the propriety of adopting his
advice, so, without wasting a breath in asking him how under heavens
he came to be at that spot, when he had supposed him miles away, he
retained his crouching position. Of course, this could not continue for
ever, though a terrible long half-hour passed before Parsons thought it
safe to move. Then, in a whisper, he announced that it was time; and,
cautioning Waving Plume to keep close behind, he cautiously moved away,
carrying his rifle in readiness for instant use, and scarce making a
breath of noise, as he flitted ghost-like through the dusky night.
After three quarters of an hour’s fatiguing march, with a low “come
on,” the leader began the ascent of a most difficult path. Up, up they
toiled until they reached a long level ledge of rock, and here Parsons
and his companion halted. For the present their travels were at an end.
“Now,” said Archer, as he wearily threw himself at full length on the
rock. “Now, Jake, can you tell me how you here, where we are, and what
we are to do?”
“Yer askin’ a good deal at once, but, perhaps I kin. You know I’ve
scouted around this part o’ the country for quite a time, and livin’
alongside the red-skins, I got to learn their ways. Las’ night I was
nigh thirty miles away, an’ right in among ’em. Young Robison and I war
on their trail, ’cause the tarnal critters has got the Major an’ his
darter--which is a cussed sight worse; and that’s what I ought to told
you at fust.”
“Never mind that, I know that part, though you can tell me what’s
become of Hugh,” said Waving Plume.
“He’s all right--will make a bully Injun fighter, he will. They were
all round him, but we fought our way through, killed a dozen--more or
less, an’ then clared out. We had to separate, but he kin hold his own
candle, so I ain’t a bit frightened fur him. When I started in this
direction, I jist thought Tom would strike this way--”
“As so he did!” exclaimed Charley Archer, excitedly, leaping to his
feet. “It was he that I followed into the pass--he carried with him
Adele Robison.”
“Yes, yer correct, an’ you needn’t be alarmed, she ain’t fur off, an’
we stand a mighty good chance of taking her out of his fingers.”
“Tell me where she is, if you know; and how you expect to rescue her!
It will be no easy matter, though it must be done; and I seek for light
on it.”
“Easy, boy, don’t be in a splutter. There’s a cave in the rock, as I
kinder hinted, and Tom Rutter has holed thar till he seed jist what
to do. And now, while I’m thinkin’ on it--how in thunder does it come
that he breaks in alone with ther gal, an’ you come alone following him
when he had a party of thirty braves, an’ you were with half-a-dozen
free trappers? All the rest on both sides ain’t wiped out, be they? I’m
kinder curious on them points.”
Waving Plume gave a succinct account of his adventures in search of
the Major’s daughter, together with a detailed description of the
conflict at the crossing, the flight, and his lone continuance of the
pursuit--of the position of Ned Hawkins, the Major, and the rest of the
party he was profoundly ignorant, nor could he tell what had become of
the Blackfeet.
Jake heard the account in silence, reserving his criticisms until it
was ended; then he commenced:
“Waal, Tom allers war a sharp ’un to handle, and he got ahead of ’em
slightually this time. He’s a turn-coat on principle, you see, and had
been alivin’ among the Injuns ever since that time the black rascals
fotched him up a standin’. He don’t seem to be doin’ the square thing
to the Major an’ his darter, but as near as I kin come to it he’s
fooled you an’ the red-skins both, an’ slipped in here--which ar a
mighty bad place for an honest man or woman. Maybe you’ve heard tell
o’ Free Trappers’ Pass--ef you have, this here’s the place. Now, I’m
sleepy and tired, you perceive, and so will jist dry up an’ go to
sleep, fur there’s plenty o’ time to-morrow to tend to all our talkin’
and sich like.”
Used as he was to the hardships of trapper life, to Jake, there was no
need of a bed of down to bring sleep. In a few moments he was cosily
ensconced in the arms of Morpheus, and the watchful ear of Charles
Archer could hear the long-drawn breath which announced his condition.
Gradually the blackness of the surrounding night changed to a leaden
grey. Mistily thoughts swarmed through his brain. Then came a
blank--Archer, too, was asleep.
Even yet was his dream haunted by a golden-haired girl, who struggled
in the arms of a heavily-bearded refugee and countless Indians. The
fight at the crossing was to be refought, the hand-to-hand struggle
with the renegade, the sudden retreat, the dark intricacies of Free
Trappers’ Pass, and the hurtling rifle bullet--all once more appeared
ere, with the breaking morn, he arose from his hard couch on the level
rock.
With keen eye he studied the windings of the path which he had followed
to reach this resting-place; and anxiously he gazed around to make
himself acquainted with the topographical intricacies of his retreat.
As he was looking down upon the scenery below, Parsons, who had
wakened, remarked:
“It’s a queer country this, ain’t it, now?”
“Yes, Jacob, it is a queer-looking country. This is, in one sense, a
safe retreat, also. It would require a more than ordinary set of men to
dislodge us by force of arms; but I am afraid it would not take long to
starve us out--indeed, as far as I can see, that would be the only plan
that could prove successful.”
“Don’t you be too sure of that. There’s a quicker way than that, if it
ain’t a better one. This wall”--patting with his hand the rocky side of
the recess--“looks amazin’ thick an’ stout, but six or eight good men
could have her down in short order.”
Seeing the surprise of Archer, Parsons explained as follows:
“You needn’t stare so, it’s true. If you look sharp, you’ll see this
rock’s limestun--right about here you’ll find lots of it.”
Sunlight suddenly stole over the face of Waving Plume, and the joy of
his soul beamed out through his keen grey eyes.
“So near,” he exclaimed, “nothing save a few inches of rock to separate
us--she must and shall be saved! Quick, tell me your plans, that we may
at once begin the work, for delays are dangerous!”
To this rather excited speech of Archer’s, Parsons coolly responded:
“Don’t be in too great a splutter, young man. There’s things to be
thought on afore we commence to go in. We had better scout around an’
see how the country looks, an’ then lay our plans accordin’.”
Charles assenting, the two together began the descent of the path which
served as a stair-case to this high eyrie.
Preferring to leave the difficult duties of scouting to one most
thoroughly versed in its mysteries, Waving Plume sought out a
comfortable resting-place on which he might seat himself, while
Parsons disappeared in the direction of the mouth of the basin, or
_cul-de-sac_, in which they were encamped.
Time passed on. At least two hours had elapsed, and yet the trapper did
not return.
At length, tired of inactivity, and restless from a mind burdened by
so great a duty as the rescue of the fair “Mist on the Mountain,” he
debated with himself whether he should follow in the footsteps of Jake,
and seek the plain, or return to the niche wherein he had passed the
night.
Reflecting that in the one case he would be needlessly thrusting
himself into danger, and at the same time drawing no nearer to
Adele--while in the other he would be closer to the maiden, even if
there was no possible means of access to her, he chose to retrace his
step.
Out of breath, he reached the spot, and flung himself down much in
the same manner as he had done on the night before. Suddenly, behind
his head he felt a slight vibration of the rock, and could hear a
tapping sound as though someone were, with their knuckles, trying its
strength or thickness. With a bound, Waving Plume was on his feet.
Circumstanced, as he was, he could not, at once, think what course it
was best for him to pursue.
Following the bent of the first impulse which struck him, he drew from
his belt the large hunting-knife which he there carried. For a moment
he surveyed the seemingly solid wall before him, gave a glance at the
edge of his weapon, and then resolutely attacked the only known barrier
which lay between him and Adele.
As Waving Plume progressed with his labour, he began to realize how
very thin the partition actually was. At a heavy pressure of his hand
he could feel it spring inwards, and he marked well the progress that
he had made. One more vigorous application of the knife, the point sank
into the rock and disappeared. His work, for the time, was almost done.
A hole as big as the palm of his hand testified to the vigour of his
proceedings. Anxiously gazing through this, he could see the apartment
beyond. A small lamp cast an uncertain light, and almost directly
before the aperture a dim shadow loomed up. The shadow was that of a
woman.
“Adele!”
In a low, but audible whisper the word floated into the room. Bending
down her head, she replied:
“Who is it that speaks?”
“A friend--one who would rescue you--Charles Archer.”
“Thank Heaven!”
This, much more in the shape of a fervent prayer than of a reply; then,
to Waving Plume:
“If you can aid me, be quick!”
When the three had reached the valley, and were in some manner bidden
by the foliage of the trees, a momentary halt was called, and a short
consultation was held.
Environed by difficulties, with two companions depending upon his
inventive genius for escape from a most unpleasant position, no light
breaking upon the dark road which seemed to stretch out before him,
Parsons did all but despair. Think as he might, no good would come of
it, and so, after some minutes, he said:
“Well, Charley, it ain’t no use. We can’t git out.”
A groan was the only response, so he continued:
“But that ain’t no reason why we can’t stay in. They say, ‘what ain’t
hid’s best hid,’ an’ we’ll try it. There’s plenty of room to lay by
here, an’ ef we can only throw ’em off the scent a leetle, it may work.
Jist come along now.”
Diving right into the thick underbrush, Parsons led the way, until they
came to the side of the basin which they were in. Here, in a clump of
evergreens, he placed them, and then began to retrace his footsteps,
first charging them not to move until they heard from him.
As he returned to the spring, he effaced, as much as possible, the
marks of the passage of himself and friend.
Stepping lightly into the open space at the spring, he looked carefully
around. Nothing unusual met his eye, nor did any suspicious sound fall
upon his ear.
“Strange, ther’ ain’t no sound from ’em yit,” was his muttered
cogitation. “Tom Rutter must hev got most cussedly careless since he
got among the Blackfeet, or he’d hev missed the girl afore this. It
ain’t so likely neither; but there’ll be something’ up soon.”
While thinking thus, Jacob was adjusting the saddle of his steed. With
a bound he had vaulted into his seat, but scarcely had he settled
there, when, from the rocks above him, in the direction of Free
Trappers’ Cave, came a wild yell.
Drawing in a long breath, he gave vent to an answering cry, so loud and
clear, as even to astonish himself. A moment, horse and rider stood
motionless, then, with a renewed cheer, he dashed boldly and at full
speed toward the mouth of the basin and the plain.