A MYSTERIOUS CAMP FIRE.
For a couple of hours young Chadmund had difficulty in traveling.
Despite the fact that he was in a sort of valley, with towering peaks
and bluffs upon either hand, a great many boulders and obstructions
obtruded themselves in his path, and he did some climbing, clambering,
and jumping that would have reflected no discredit upon a mountain goat.
The forenoon was about half gone, and he was felicitating himself upon
the excellent progress he was making, when he was brought up all
standing by finding himself upon the bank of a mountain stream, which
crossed his route exactly at right angles, issuing from the mountains on
the left with a rush and roar and pouring tumultuously forward with
irresistible power and velocity.
"I can't wade that," said the lad, scratching his head in perplexity,
"and it won't do to try and swim it. If I once got in there it would be
the last of me."
There could be no doubt of that, for the stream was fully twenty feet in
width, very deep, and sped forward like the volume of a river when
suddenly compressed into a mountain canyon. It was walled in on either
side by solid rock, the surface of the water being a couple of yards
below the level where he stood.
"I wonder whether I can't go round it?" he said, after spending some
time in mental debate. "It can't run all the way through the mountain,
but must start somewhere not very far away."
This was not a very plausible theory; but as nothing was to be gained by
standing still, he started out upon his tour of exploration. Better
success followed than he expected. He had started toward the head of the
stream and had clambered along less than a hundred yards, when he
reached a place where it was so narrow that he was confident of his
ability to leap across.
"Yes, I can do that," he said, approaching close to the edge and looking
over the boiling abyss to the solid rock upon the other side. "But
suppose I should miss my footing, wouldn't I catch it!"
It was a pretty good leap, but Ned was active, strong and swift, and he
had made many a longer leap than the one before him. For a minute longer
he stood, measuring the distance with his eye. Then going backward a few
steps, he suddenly ran forward with all the speed at his command, and,
concentrating all his strength, made such a leap that he cleared the
chasm by a couple of feet.
"There!" he exclaimed, with some satisfaction, "if none of the streams
are broader than that, I'll jump them all."
Still full of hope and in the best of spirits he pressed forward until
the sun was at the meridian and the heat became so oppressive that he
concluded to rest awhile. He was in a section of country where, at
certain seasons, the heat is like that of the Desert of Sahara. There
are portions of Arizona and Lower California where the fervor of the
sun's rays at noonday smite the earth with the withering power of the
sirocco.
At times, when Ned was down in the lowest portions of the valley, the
heat was almost intolerable; and then, again, when he clambered to the
top of some elevation, and the cool breezes from the upper regions
fanned his cheeks, it was like a draught of water to the fever-parched
patient.
He had lain on the ground under the protecting shadow of a rock but a
short time when his eye rested upon something which convinced him that
he was not the only one in the valley. Looking dreamily off toward the
west, up the valley, with the mountains sloping down on the right and
left, he noticed what at first seemed a thin bluish cloud, resting
against the sky. Then he observed that its form was a little out of the
usual order, it being column-shaped, tall, and like a shaft of almost
invisible vapor, thrown against the white background beyond.
"That ain't a cloud," he suddenly exclaimed, starting to his feet and
scrutinizing it more closely. "It's the smoke from a camp fire and I've
got to go right by it."
There could be no doubt of the truth of what he said, and he became
deeply interested.
"I wonder whether they're Indians or white men? I suppose it's most
likely they are Apaches, and they may be Lone Wolf and his companions.
I've got to keep a sharp lookout and keep from running into them. If
they are white hunters, that I've heard are sometimes in these
mountains, it will be a lucky thing for me."
Somehow or other he became impressed with the idea that the camp fire
ahead of him was that of friends instead of enemies--that the assistance
which he so sorely needed was thus placed within his reach. He had
learned, long before, that one is apt to miscalculate the distance when
placed as he was; but, making allowance for all that, he was confident
that the camp fire was not more than a mile away. Yielding to a natural
curiosity to learn its meaning, he shortened the hour which he had
intended to devote to rest, and started ahead again.
Once or twice it seemed to him that he had dropped into some sort of
trail, which he was following. Here and there were traces showing that
the route had been traveled before. It seemed to be one of those natural
roads or passes which are found at intervals in all great mountain
chains, and without which, many of of them for vast distances would be
literally impassable for man or animal.
The conviction that he was not the pioneer over that section caused the
young wanderer some misgivings and suggested several discomforting
questions. If Apaches had used the trail already, might not some of them
be upon it? If some of them were coming from the opposite direction, how
was he to avoid running into their arms? These queries were not of the
most cheerful character and they served to tone down the enthusiasm
which had marked his start in the morning. They also caused him to
examine, more times than was really necessary, the revolver which had
already done him such good service, and he went through a preliminary
drill, consisting of placing it inside his waistcoat, a couple of
buttons being left carelessly unfastened; next thrusting his hand
within, in an indifferent manner, then instantly jerking out and
pointing the weapon at an imaginary foe in front of him. This maneuver
he repeated scores of times, narrowly escaping the firing of the weapon,
until he satisfied himself that he could do it to perfection.
"Now, if Lone Wolf comes at me alone, I think I can manage him. He won't
suspect that I've any weapon, and so won't be prepared for it; but I
hope he won't show himself," he added the next minute. "If there's any
way of avoiding him, I'll do it."
However, he was bent upon solving the mystery of the distant camp fire,
which he still hoped might belong to some party of white hunters, who
would take him under their protection and conduct him safely over the
wide and dangerous stretch of territory which still intervened between
him and his destination.
In spite of the careful calculation he had made, he soon learned that he
had committed an error. Although the tell-tale smoke at first seemed
scarcely a mile away, it was more than three times that distance. The
way being more obstructed by rocks and the sinuous winding of the trail,
he saw the sun sinking low in the west and found that he had still no
little traveling to do.
"It can't be that they are shifting that camp fire all the time," he
growled, as he clambered upon an elevation, and was again disappointed
to find it so far away. "Blamed if it don't look as if somebody was
playing a trick on me. I've heard of a jack-o'-lantern bobbing around in
that style, but nothing else."
He finally concluded that the laws of nature were not violated in this
case, and with renewed courage pressed ahead again. The sky was clear
and cloudless, the weather remained oppressively warm, and poor Ned was
so jaded that he felt scarcely able to drag one foot after the other,
but he was stout-hearted, and, just as the sun dipped out of sight
behind the mountains, he found himself within a hundred yards of the
mysterious camp.