AMONG THE MOUNTAINS.
Young Chadmund heard the unmistakable warning of a rattlesnake that was
somewhere near him, and on the very point of striking. Precisely where
it was, it was impossible to determine with any certainty; but there was
no time to consider the matter. It seemed to him in that brief second he
devoted to thought that the venomous reptile lay a little to the left,
and he scrambled out of his place with all the celerity at his command.
The wonderful quickness of this usually sluggish snake, when about to
deal its deadly blow is well known, and, had the boy moved with twice
the rapidity that he did, Ned could not have escaped that lightning-like
dart of the snake, which was aimed straight at his foot, that being the
part of the body which was nearest his coil. The fangs struck the side
of his shoe, which happened to move at the very instant the blow was
made, and, piercing the leather, held the reptile fast,--"Hoist by his
own petard," as it were,--so that, when Ned scrambled out from his
shelter, he felt the horrid thing dangling at his heels.
With presence of mind hardly to be expected at such a time, he arose to
his feet, and holding the attached foot motionless, with the other he
hastily stamped all the life from the writhing rattlesnake. This done he
freed the shoe by a jerk, although it tore the fangs of the reptile from
its jaws.
"I think I'd better dust out of here," said the lad, breathlessly. "I
remember that Corporal Hugg told me that where you found one of those
things you are pretty sure of running against another close by, and I
don't care about seeing any, especially when it's so dark you can't see
at all."
He stepped carefully forth in the darkness, and, moving a few feet,
paused to listen. The rain had ceased falling entirely, and only the
faintest mutter of the distant thunder reached his ears. The darkness
was absolutely impenetrable, and the wind, as it soughed through the wet
branches, made the most dreary and dismal wailing--enough to strike
despair to the bravest heart.
The boy had listened but a moment when a slight rustling among the
leaves at his feet filled him with a sudden conviction that a second
rattlesnake was after him. He left the spot expeditiously, not halting
until he was sure that he was beyond reach of the unwelcome visitant,
which, it is well known, is not much given to pursuing its prey.
"Hang it!" he exclaimed, "there ain't much fun in this. I wish daylight
would come, so that I could see what to do."
His situation was exceedingly uncomfortable. Everything was soaked with
water, and he could not walk without shaking down the moisture from the
laden branches and undergrowth. He knew of but one place wherein he
could secure protection and that was beneath the rock where he had so
narrowly escaped the rattlesnake, but he was not very anxious to make
his way back there.
While he stood debating what to do, he noticed that the sky was rapidly
clearing, the black, tumultuous clouds rolling away from the face of the
moon, which soon shone out with all its wonted power. This was a vast
help, for, despite the dense shadows made by the heavy branches
overhead, he was able to see enough to pick his way and noticed that the
forest directly in front was quite open, indicating that he was close to
the termination. Thus encouraged, he pressed ahead and soon had the
satisfaction of finding that he was through the woods and on the border
of an open, rocky ravine, through which he could hear a stream rushing
with great violence, and which he took to be the outlet of the little
lake that had been overcharged by the recent severe storm. So far as he
could see by the moonlight, great masses of rock, boulders and broken
prairie stretched out before him, and he asked himself how he was to
make his way.
He concluded not to make the attempt just then, but, hunting out a place
among the rocks, he crawled into it, first making sure, by a careful
reconnaissance that no rattlesnakes had crept in ahead of him. He was
permitted to remain undisturbed through the night, and when he opened
his eyes the sun was shining directly in upon him. The boy then hastily
sprang up, his heart full of gratitude to God for the wondrous manner in
which his life had been preserved, and the remarkable success which had
followed his attempt at escape from the Apaches.
With the coming of the glorious sunlight, Ned naturally felt buoyant and
hopeful. He was not without considerable appetite, but he had eaten so
heartily, on the previous evening, that he felt that he could afford to
wait until night again; and he still had that impatient, almost
unreasoning desire to get forward, which made him feel like breaking
into a run, and keeping it up until he was out of breath.
But, young as was the little fellow, he was old enough to feel that the
time had come when he must use all the brains in his command. Up to that
hour, as will be understood, he had been journeying entirely at random,
his sole purpose being to get beyond reach of Lone Wolf and his band. He
had accomplished this, and a radical change of tactics must be made.
If Ned Chadmund had been a half dozen years older, he would have
recoiled at the prospect before him; but he was so young and full of
animal spirits that he did not really comprehend the difficulty and
danger. He had traveled very little more than half the distance between
Santa Fe and Fort Havens, and his purpose was to press ahead until the
latter was reached. To do this, it was necessary that he should make his
way through the mountains in which he now found himself, and then to
journey a couple of hundred miles through or over prairie, and across
streams, before he could reach the frontier post, where his father was
so anxiously awaiting his coming. The project seemed nothing short of
madness; but its justification lay in the fact that the wanderer had the
choice of attempting that or lying down and dying where he was. He could
do nothing but choose the former.
Ned climbed up to an elevated position and took an observation--his
purpose, after learning whether any present danger threatened, being to
learn the direction it was necessary to follow in order to reach Fort
Havens.
"Corporal Hugg told me that after we reached Devil's Pass, it was in a
straight line West. The trail winds in and out, as it has to do, but all
one had to do was to dig ahead, and he would be sure to come out right
in the end--that is, if the Indians and wild animals would only let him.
Well, right yonder rose the sun," he continued, very carefully
continuing his observation. "That must be the east, and all I have to do
is to keep that at my back until it gets over my head and wears round to
the front. So off we go."
There was one favorable accompaniment of this first thoughtful effort to
reach home. The valley-like depression that had caught his eye upon
rising ran precisely in the direction to be desired--due east and
west--so that he had the best facility in the world for getting through
the mountains. Still another favorable augury was that the general
direction pursued by the Apaches was the same, and the fact was, there
was very little still intervening between him and the open prairie
beyond. Should his progress remain uninterrupted through the day, by
nightfall he would be close to the prairie, which stretched away so many
miles in the direction of the frontier post.
"I don't think it's as much as two hundred miles," he said, as he
started off at a rapid walk. "I can make thirty miles a day, so that I
will be there at the end of a week, if nothing unexpected gets in the
way. Won't father be surprised when he sees me walk up, and won't I be
surprised if I manage to do it, also!"