AN ENEMY IN CAMP.
“I heard Dick talking about Pikes the other day,” said Eugene, who had
followed Archie in order to lend his assistance in case the bay had
succeeded in freeing himself from his halter or lariat. “Did he refer
to such people as our friends here?”
“He did,” answered Archie. “As I understand it, these Pikes are one of
the results of our late war. A good many of the people in the border
states were completely broken up, their houses being burned, their
crops destroyed and their stock killed or driven off. It takes time
and patience to accumulate property by farming, and it is hard for
a man to begin over again where he began twenty or forty years ago.
There are not many who have the courage to do it. These people had
heard wonderful stories of the mines and the sudden fortunes sometimes
made there, and believing that since they had to dig in the ground for
a living, it would be easier to dig gold and silver than potatoes,
they emigrated by regiments. But where one family made a permanent
settlement in California, a dozen turned back. But still some of them
were not satisfied, and after staying a year or two in their old homes,
they would bundle up again and go back to California; and from roaming
about so much, they fell into the habit of leading a wandering, gipsy
life. They are not satisfied with a permanent settlement anywhere. How
the name they bear came to be applied to them I don’t know, unless it
was because the first of them came from Pike county, Missouri. This man
is a genuine Pike. There is no telling how many times he has wandered
back and forth over these prairies, but he hasn’t learned much during
his wanderings. I have crossed the prairie only once, and I know that
he is a hundred miles north of where he belongs.”
“Well, now, hasn’t it occurred to you—” said Eugene, looking over his
shoulder to make sure that there was no one listening; “by the way,
what do you think of them, any how?”
“I think there is one crazy man in that party, and two, and perhaps
three, villains.”
Eugene reached out his hand and gave Archie an approving slap on the
back, as if to say that he had given utterance to his own ideas on that
point.
“The old man talks sensibly enough about some things,” said he, “but
he is wild on the subject of money, and has an eye that you don’t see
belonging to a person whose head is perfectly level. Now hasn’t it
struck you——”
“That those two hunters are leading him out of his way for some purpose
of their own?” added Archie, when Eugene paused. “It has, and I believe
it.”
“But what is their object?”
“You tell. There’s nothing in those wagons worth stealing, I am sure.
Hold on; here comes one of them.”
Simon Cool was approaching. When he came up he stated his business
without ceremony.
“Look a yer, strangers,” said he, turning his head on one side and
squirting at Archie, “I want to know what brought you yer.”
“We have already told you,” answered Archie. “We expected to find some
of our friends here.”
“Wal, seem’ you didn’t find ’em, hadn’t you better toddle on?”
“I don’t know. What do you think about it?”
“I reckon as how you had. Zack and Sile don’t like the idea of your
hangin’ around. They say you’re here for no good.”
“They’re judging us by themselves; but we’ll go. We’ve no desire to
stay where we are not wanted. Let’s get our bundles, Eugene. We can
saddle our horses out here without taking them to the camp.”
“Where you going?” demanded the Pike, as the boys entered the camp, and
after giving Fred a nod which he understood, began gathering up their
property. “Going further?”
“Yes, we thought we would ride on,” replied Archie. “We can make a mile
or two before dark, and that will take us just that much nearer the
Fort.”
“I hate to have you go, ’cause we might travel in company in the
morning. If you happen around this way agin, drop in,” said the Pike,
repeating the stereotyped invitation he had often extended to his
neighbors at home.
“Thank you,” said Fred. “We are indebted to you and your good lady for
your hospitality, and hope we shall have a chance to reciprocate.”
“Which?” exclaimed the Pike.
“We thank you for the good supper you have given us,” said Archie.
“No occasion, strangers; no occasion. Call often. We always leave the
latch-string hanging out, and keep a bite for anybody that’s hungry.”
The boys bade the hospitable Pike good-by, shouldered their bundles and
saddles and left the camp. An hour afterward they were safely settled
in a camp of their own about three miles further up the stream. Of
course they had plenty to talk about during the evening, the family
they had just left and the misfortunes that would most likely befall
them, if they trusted themselves to the guidance of the two hunters,
forming the principal topics of the conversation. At eleven o’clock the
horses were brought in and tied in the edge of the willows, and Archie
and Eugene wrapped themselves in their blankets and went to sleep,
while Fred sat up to keep an eye on the bay, and see that Zack and
Silas did not steal a march on them during the night.
Morning came at length, and after the boys had drank the last of their
coffee—they had scarcely enough of the article left to make the hot
water taste like coffee—and eaten their last piece of cracker, they
made up their bundles and prepared to resume their journey. It was high
time, they told one another, that something was done in the way of
hunting. They had seen no game when they passed over the ground a few
days before, and unless some stray antelope or buffalo put itself in
their way, they would be obliged to go supperless to bed.
The bay behaved so badly on this particular morning that Archie found
it impossible to bridle him, so he made a bridle out of his lasso,
passing the bight over the horse’s head behind his ears, through his
mouth, tying it firmly under his lower jaw, and leading the ends over
his neck and around the horn of his saddle to serve as reins. Their
preparations being completed they mounted and set off at a gallop, and
the first living objects they saw when they reached the top of the
nearest swell were the emigrant and his family, who were following a
course lying at right angles with their own.
“Good-morning to you,” cried the old man, who was marching beside one
of the wagons. “Off for the Fort now?”
“Yes, sir,” replied the boys.
“Heading the wrong way, haint you?”
“No, sir; we’re heading directly toward it.”
“I say,” exclaimed the emigrant suddenly, “you’re——”
When he had said this, the two hunters and Simon began to remonstrate
with him. The boys could not catch their words, but they distinctly
heard the old man say: “Do you want me to let them youngsters go off
and lose themselves? It is my bounded duty to set ’em right.”
“I say,” shouted the old man again, “you’ll never see Bolton if you
go that way. You’re going wrong. Zack and Sile say we’ll be there
to-night?”
“Well, Zack and Sile know better than that. You are the one who is
going wrong. We know what we are talking about, when we assure you that
you are heading as straight from the Fort as you can go!”
“Whoa!” shouted the Pike, bringing both his teams to a stand still.
“This thing must be settled now. Come here, boys.”
The three friends moved toward the wagon, but Archie’s horse declining
to approach very near, pretending to be much afraid of the white canvas
covers, his rider was obliged to dismount and lead him.
“Now if the Fort is off there, as you say it is, what is the reason
that Zack and Sile are leading us the other way?” demanded the Pike.
“They have reasons of their own, with which we are not acquainted,”
answered Archie. “But they are going to lose you, and they know it.”
Silas made an angry rejoinder, and this was the beginning of the
conversation which we have already recorded. We have related all that
passed during the interview, and told how the Pike, suddenly becoming
impressed by Archie’s statements, abruptly abandoned the guides he had
so long followed, and placed himself and family under the directions of
the boys. We have also told of the astounding revelation he afterward
made in regard to the treasure which one of his vehicles contained,
the manner in which it was received by the three friends, and the
discussion on the weight of money that followed, when the old man left
them and drew back beside his wagon. We are now ready to take up our
story where we left off.
“I know now why Zack and Silas were so anxious to be rid of us,” said
Archie. “They have designs on that money, or whatever it is, and wanted
a clear field for their operations.”
“And don’t you think Simon Cool is somehow mixed up with them?” asked
Featherweight. “He seemed to be on pretty good terms with them.”
“_I_ thought so,” said Eugene; “but it seems to me that if he were in
league with them, he would have gone off with them, instead of staying
with the train.”
“Unless he can serve his purpose and theirs better by remaining,” said
Archie, significantly.
“I didn’t think of that.”
“Well, their plans, if they had any, are knocked higher than a kite,”
said Fred, “and all we have to do is to keep our eyes open. I, for
one, am glad things turned out as they have, for now we are sure of
something to eat without the trouble of hunting for it. But, fellows,
I’d like to know what’s in that wagon. Wouldn’t it be a good plan to
question the Pike, as he questioned us last night?”
During that forenoon the boys were left entirely to themselves. The
emigrant remained close beside his wagon, and once when the boys looked
at him they found that he had put on his powder-horn, and bullet-pouch,
and that he carried his long rifle on his shoulder. He kept looking
back, too, as if he feared the hunters might follow the train; but they
were not once seen during the day.
When the wagons halted at noon the Pike had but little to say to the
boys, and that little related entirely to the conversation that had
taken place that morning—the location of the Fort, the distance they
must travel before reaching it, and the probable object that Zack and
Silas had in view in trying to mislead him. He had not yet recovered
from his fright. During the halt he visited the wagon every few
minutes, pulled up the cover and looked under it to satisfy himself
that his valuables were safe; but he always took care to fasten the
cover down again, so that the boys, although they passed the wagon a
dozen times, on some pretext or other, could not obtain a glimpse of
the interior. When they stopped for the night his vigilance seemed to
increase. After supper he made the circuit of the camp several times,
with his rifle in his hand, and having satisfied himself that there
were no enemies near, he spread his blanket under the wagon and went to
sleep.
The boys brought their horses in at an early hour and also sought their
blankets. They had been almost constantly in the saddle during the last
five days, and began to feel the effects of their long journey. It
had been their custom, while they were alone on the prairie, to set a
watch every night, but now there seemed to be no need of it. The only
thing they feared was that the bay might find means to escape; but he
seemed to be pretty well contented just now, and he was as secure as
two rawhide ropes could make him. If a stranger approached the camp,
he would be the first to hear him. And then, there were the dogs! All
the emigrants seemed to put unbounded faith in them, and if the Pike
was willing to trust himself and his property to their watchfulness,
the boys thought they would run no risk in doing the same. They agreed
among themselves, however, that each one should sleep with both ears
open, and be ready to jump up the instant he heard any unusual sounds.
All the emigrants were locked in slumber long before the boys laid
down, at least they appeared to be; but there was one who was wide
awake, and waiting with a little impatience for them to stop talking
and go to sleep. It was the teamster, Simon Cool. He waited half an
hour, and then slowly and cautiously raised his head and looked about
him. He glanced sharply at each one of the prostrate forms, and quietly
threw off his blanket. Having arranged it so that a casual glance at
it would lead one to suppose that it still covered a human figure, he
pulled off his heavy boots and slipped away barefooted in the darkness.
He was gone a long time, and when he returned and entered the camp, he
did it with so much caution that no one heard him. He did not even
attract the attention of the bay. The dogs looked at him, but they had
known him so long that he had nothing to fear from them. He made his
way on his hands and knees to the place where the boys lay, side by
side, and quickly, but without the least noise, removed their rifles
and the belts containing their revolvers, which they had placed at the
head of their beds. This done, he looked toward young Reuben Holmes,
but it was only to see if he was still asleep; for Simon knew that he
had nothing about him more dangerous than a rusty pocket-knife, and
that was not worth securing. The only weapon belonging to the Holmes
family was the heavy, old-fashioned rifle which the old man had taken
to bed with him. This Simon secured as easily as he had secured the
rest, and taking them all in his arms carried them out of the camp and
laid them on the ground, placing Archie’s Maynard and a brace of the
revolvers by themselves. He had disarmed everybody in the camp in less
than two minutes’ time, and they all slept on unconscious of it.