CHAPTER XIX.

A TERRIBLE MEETING.

As he moved along, weary and worn, the memory of the horrid fight he had

seen by the camp fire, and especially the picture of those three stark,

bloody forms that lay stretched upon the earth, seemingly watching every

movement he made, followed and weighed him down like some smothering

incubus. Then he saw, more vividly than ever before, the mountainous

task ahead. With no horse, and the hundreds of miles of mountain and

prairie, with the dangers besetting him on every hand, what possible

hope had he for believing he was ever to reach his destination? The

gloom of the night, the shadow of what he had so recently witnessed, and

his own exhausted condition, no doubt had much to do with the distress;

for his prospects were certainly as good as at morning, when he was so

full of enthusiasm.

"I can't travel any further," he finally exclaimed, "and what's the use?

It won't do any good."

When he paused in his wearisome tramp, he happened to be close to a

tree, quite lofty, with numerous limbs, some of which were quite near

the ground. It struck him at once that it would be a good plan to climb

into this, and ensconce himself among the branches. At any rate, he was

certain to be out of the way of the crawling snakes, and no wild animal

could steal upon him while he was unconscious.

Without pausing more than a moment to consider, he ascended the tree,

and, a short distance from the ground secured the very position he

wanted. Here the limbs crossed and recrossed, and gnarled themselves in

such a way, that the most pleasant kind of bed imaginable was found, and

he stretched out his weary limbs upon it, thanking Heaven that had

guided him to such a favorable place.

"I hope Lone Wolf won't be able to follow me here," was the wish he

expressed, as he resigned himself to slumber.

But gentle sleep had not yet closed his eyelids when he was alarmed by

hearing something beneath him. His first supposition was that it was

Lone Wolf, for the sound resembled the stealthy tread of some person

upon the soft earth; but after listening a few minutes he became

satisfied that it was some animal instead.

"It's a wolf or panther that has scented my trail," was his conclusion,

as he leaned over and peered cautiously down among the branches.

The moon shone more brightly than upon any night since he had started,

but the shadow of the trees themselves obscured his view so much that

his vision was of little use to him. It seemed to him, however, when he

looked downward in this fashion, that once or twice he caught sight of a

shadowy creature, whisking back and forth, leaping about like a dog, and

apparently ready to make a bound upward among the branches.

But he could not make certain of what he saw, although there could be no

doubt but that he heard something, and that some kind of a dangerous

creature was close at hand.

"I guess he isn't going to hurt me," was his conclusion, after watching

and listening a half hour, and after finding a heavy drowsiness was

stealing over him. In this comfortable state of mind, he soon closed his

eyes, and relapsed into a deep, refreshing sleep, which lasted an hour

or more, when it ended in a peculiar manner. Very few boys are apt to

lie quiet in their beds, and Ned Chadmund, in turning over upon his

side, turned completely out of bed, and dropped through the branches to

the ground.

The fall was so slight that it did not hurt him, except in the

disagreeable shock that was inevitable. It flashed on him on the

instant, and, recalling those stealthy footsteps that had so frightened

him, he instantly sprang for the trunk, and began climbing with all the

haste at his command. He was almost within reach of the limbs, when he

heard a growl, and some denizen of the forest came plunging toward him.

With a thrill of terror, the lad made a tremendous effort, caught the

limb with one hand, swung his leg over and drew himself up. As he did

so, he felt distinctly the wind made by the body of the beast, as it

leaped upward, and snapped with his huge jaws at his legs, which were

withdrawn from its fangs just as they closed together. The creature,

whatever it was, made a running leap, that carried him some distance

beyond, when he struck the ground and ran a few leaps before turning

about and retracing his steps.

Without waiting to gain a more distinct view, the lad crept back to his

perch, where he tremblingly awaited the moment when it was to bound up

among the limbs and attack him. After gaining his former position, he

sat for a few minutes shivering like one with the ague, forgetting even

to think of the revolver with which to defend himself in case the brute

assaulted him. But it may have been that the dumb creature believed that

he was already frightened to death, and there was no occasion for

attempting anything further. At any rate nothing more was seen or heard

of him.

Ned had been too thoroughly shaken up to gain any more sleep. He sat

through the remaining hours of the night without closing his eyes a

moment in slumber. They were the longest and the dreariest that he ever

spent, but when the welcome light of morning came his foe had departed.

The wanderer waited a half hour or more, and carefully reconnoitered the

grounds before descending; but, assured that the coast was clear, he

came down to _terra firma_ again and took up his line of march. His fear

now was that his presence in the neighborhood might be discovered by

Lone Wolf or some of his band, and, scarcely pausing long enough to

swallow a few mouthfuls of water from a stream near at hand, he hastened

forward, with his face toward the west.

It became evident, after journeying a short distance, that he was again

following a distinctly-marked trail, one that was originally made by

animals, most probably buffaloes, in their migrations from one section

to another, and had been taken advantage of by men whose business or

inclinations called them in the same direction. Here and there he saw

marks that had been made by the hoofs of horses, and more than once he

was certain he observed the trail of moccasins. The path was more direct

and less laborious to travel, and he began to believe that, if he were

left alone, he might succeed in reaching safety at some time or other.

For some two hours he tramped along through a section that gradually

lost its mountainous character as he neared the rolling prairie beyond.

He kept continually looking back and around him, on the alert for

Indians; but not a sign was discovered, until he approached an

exceptionally rocky place, where the trail wound round the masses of

stone at such a sharp angle that the view was less than a dozen feet.

With no thought of danger, Ned walked around this corner, and on the

instant found himself face to face with a swarthy Indian warrior who

must have seen him approaching, and, dismounting from his horse, stood

back and awaited his approach. That astounded look revealed not only

this, but that the Indian was Lone Wolf.

Fate had brought the two together again, at the very time the heart of

the weary fugitive was beating high with hope. There was no chance for

retreat or hope of avoiding him. The eyes of the painted Apache glowed

with a demoniac light, and his fingers twitched as he placed his right

hand upon the buckhorn handle of a knife at his girdle.

"You run away--you see well--you lie--now I will cut out your eyes, and

you will not see to run away again!"

There was no doubt that such was the purpose of the warrior, as he

advanced upon the lad, who suddenly thrust his hand into his waistcoat

for his revolver.

It was gone!

During the night it had dropped out without being noticed, and he was

absolutely defenseless. He was breathless, paralyzed with terror.

"Yes, I will cut out your eyes, and then you will not see to run away,"

added the chief, striding toward him.

"Hold on thar, my copper-colored friend! This 'ere is a little row you

kin settle with me, instead of that boy thar. Try that knife on my eyes,

and while you're doing it, I'll try mine on yourn."

[Illustration: "THIS 'ERE IS A LITTLE ROW YOU KIN SETTLE WITH ME,

INSTEAD OF THAT BOY THAR."]

It was Tom Hardynge, the scout, who spoke thus opportunely.

Through Apache Land · 第 19 / 39 章