THE PIKE’S TREASURE.
Having performed his work of disarming the camp, in a manner perfectly
satisfactory to himself, Simon Cool crawled back to his bed, drew on
his boots and crept under his blanket again. Scarcely was he fairly
settled when two figures arose from the ground, about two hundred yards
from the camp, where they had been lying watching all his movements,
and ran forward to the place where he had deposited the weapons. They
threw down their own rifles, quickly buckled a brace of revolvers about
their waists and took possession of the sixteen-shooters belonging to
Fred and Eugene. Their own rifles and the emigrant’s they hid away in
the willows, and then boldly approached the camp. The sound of their
footsteps aroused the horse and dogs, and these in turn aroused the
slumbering men and boys, who started up to see Zack and Silas standing
before the fire with the stolen weapons in their hands. There was not
one among them who displayed half as much terror and astonishment at
this unwelcome sight as did Simon Cool.
“Keep quiet now an’ do as you’re told, an’ thar shan’t a har of your
heads be hurted,” said Zack. “But if anybody goes to raisin’ a rumpus
he’ll allers be sorry fur it, ’cause he won’t live as long as it’d take
a hoss to jerk his tail twice.”
For a few seconds no one moved or spoke. They had all been awakened out
of a sound sleep, and it required a little time and effort for them to
gather their wits about them. The boys did not fully understand the
words that had been addressed to them, but the simple presence of the
two hunters was all that was needed to explain matters to them.
The Pike was utterly bewildered at first, but gradually he began
to comprehend the situation; and when he had fully grasped it, his
terror knew no bounds. Jumping from his blanket before either of the
hunters could prevent him, he spread out his arms before the wagon
which contained his treasure, and broke out into wild lamentations and
defiance.
“I know what you’re here for,” he cried, “but you shan’t have it. You
_can’t_ have it, for it’s robbery, and that’s something the law don’t
allow. I’ll have you both in jail if you touch it. I’ve spent years on
it and worked hard for it, and you shan’t have it. I’ll fight till I
drop; so I will!”
The old man continued in this strain to give vent to his feelings of
excitement and alarm, but the boys did not hear what else he said, for
his wife, who had been looking on from the wagon in which she and the
children slept, now joined in with her shrill voice, and a terrific
uproar arose. Threats and the sight of the cocked rifles pointed full
at their heads, at first had no effect on them. Their treasure was
uppermost in their mind, and while that was in danger, they cared not
for any peril that menaced themselves. After repeated efforts Zack
succeeded in making himself heard and understood.
“We haint agoin’ to harm none on you if we can help it,” said he; “but
if you don’t shut up, we’ll tie yer hand and foot; and if that don’t do
you no good, we’ll leave you yer to the wolves.”
This threat restored silence. The Pike’s wife drew her head back under
cover of the wagon, and the old man wrung his hands and moaned to
himself. In their heartfelt sympathy for him, the boys, for the time,
forgot that they were prisoners themselves.
“Now, if you’ve come to yer senses, we’ll be movin’,” said Zack. “You
two,” nodding to Reuben and Simon, “hitch up the oxen an’ mules, an’
you, Sile, saddle a horse for me an’ you an’ turn the rest loose!”
These orders showed that there was a journey before them, and so the
boys, at Archie’s suggestion, began making up their bundles, keeping
their eyes on Silas all the while, to see which of their horses he was
going to saddle. His first thought evidently was to take the bay; but
the horse turned his heels toward him, laid back his ears and looked so
savage, that Silas changed his mind, and making a wide circuit around
him to get at his head, he drew his knife across the lariats with
which he was confined, and set him at liberty. With a joyful neigh
the bay kicked up his heels and galloped off, the ends of the lariats
streaming in the air behind him. The boys saw it all, but did not speak
until they had made up their bundles and thrown them into one of the
wagons. Like the man who went twenty miles after a load of sand, and
when he reached home, found that his wagon was as empty as when he
started, the sand having all leaked out through the cracks, they felt
that their knowledge of the English language would not enable them to
do the subject justice, so they kept still for a while and thought
about it.
“There are five days’ work gone to the bow-wows,” sighed Archie, at
length.
“And Frank Nelson, with his black, is still ahead of the hounds,”
murmured Featherweight.
“I would be willing to remain a prisoner six months, if the bay had
only given Silas one good kick before he left,” said Eugene, savagely.
“What shall we say when we get back to the Fort—if we ever do?”
“We’ll say that we caught the horse,” said Archie, with an attempt to
appear cheerful, “but that circumstances over which we had no control
prevented us from keeping him.”
“Humph!” exclaimed Eugene. “It is just too provoking for anything.”
“But it can’t be helped,” said Fred, “and we might as well laugh as cry
over it.”
“Throw us a couple of saddles yer,” said Silas, who at this moment came
up, leading Archie’s horse and Eugene’s.
“What have you done with my nag?” asked Fred.
“Turned him loose, I reckon,” was the encouraging reply. “I turned two
loose.”
“Then I might as well put my saddle away in the bushes,” said Fred, “so
that I shall know where to find it if I ever have occasion to use it
again.”
When the preparations for their journey were all completed, Reuben and
Simon, in obedience to orders, climbed to their seats in the wagons
and drove after Zack, who rode over the prairie; the boys and the Pike
fell in behind on foot, and Silas brought up the rear, riding Archie’s
horse and carrying one of the Henry rifles across the horn of his
saddle.
“I declare this beats anything I ever heard of,” said Eugene, whose
wrath had not yet had time to cool; “six able-bodied fellows captured
and marched off by one-third of their number!”
“But it isn’t so very bad after all, when you come to think of it,”
returned Fred. “I have heard of three car-loads of passengers being
robbed by four men.”
“These hunters must have followed us all day yesterday,” continued
Eugene, “and of course they are after the Pike’s money; but I don’t
see how they could have come into our camp and taken possession of our
weapons without awakening some of us.”
“Ask them how they did it,” suggested Archie. “They know.”
Acting on the hint, Eugene turned to Silas, who was riding close
behind them, and propounded the question to him; but that worthy only
shook his head and grinned, and that was all they could get out of him.
Eugene persisted until his two companions expected to see the hunter
become angry; but he did not. He was in a very good humor, and no doubt
the prospect of soon handling a million dollars was what made him so.
The old man was depressed in the same degree that Silas was elated. The
first burst of grief being over, he had nothing to say, but his whole
frame quivered and his face was convulsed with agony.
The boys were not at all alarmed at their situation—they were only
angry and sorry; angry because the horse for which they had worked so
hard had been taken from them, and sorry for the Pike, who was about
to be deprived of his hard-earned wealth. It was true that Eugene, as
soon as his feelings of resentment had had time to wear away, began
to be somewhat anxious in regard to that which was in store for them,
but Archie quieted his fears by telling him just what was going to
happen; and everything turned out as he said it would, except in
one particular. They would be taken to some secluded place in the
mountains, he said, so that they would be out of sight of anybody that
might happen to pass on the prairie; the wagons would be robbed of
whatever articles of value they might contain, and they would then be
at liberty to resume their journey. Their arrival at the Fort would not
be delayed more than three or four days, at the very furthest.
“No plottin’ agin the Dutch thar!” exclaimed Silas, noticing that the
boys’ heads were pretty close together, and that they were talking in
low tones. “If you’ve got anything to say, speak it out, so’t we can
all hear it.”
“Well, then, I’ll ask you a question,” said Archie. “What are you going
to do with us?”
“Nothing, if you behave yourselves,” was the reply.
“Then why do you compel us to go with you so far out of our way? You’ve
got all we have that is worth stealing.”
“But you know too much. You might go back to the Fort an’ make trouble
for us,” said Silas.
“You’re right,” said Archie, in a low tone, “and we may do it yet.”
“You’ve got nobody to thank but yourselves,” continued Silas. “Why
didn’t you cl’ar out, like we told you to, an’ go about your business?
If you’d a done it you’d a saved yourselves this trouble.”
The long hours of the night dragged away wearily enough. Zack pushed
ahead at a rapid walk, and the boys being more accustomed to their
saddles than travelling on foot, soon became very tired. Dark as it
was they managed to keep their bearings, and they knew that Zack was
holding straight for the mountains. There was no halt ordered until
they reached the foot-hills, and that was just as the day began to
dawn. The wagons were driven into the willows out of sight, and the
emigrant’s wife, who had not once left her wagon, was instructed to
“crawl out and dish up some grub!” an order which she obeyed with a
very bad grace. During the meal but little was said by either captors
or prisoners, and as soon as it was over the boys took their bundles
from the wagon, spread out their blankets, and fell fast asleep almost
as soon as they touched them. When they awoke the sun was setting, the
emigrant’s wife was preparing supper, and Reuben and Simon, acting
under the directions of Silas, who kept guard over them with his rifle,
were hitching up the mules and yoking the oxen preparatory to another
start, which was made as soon as the supper was disposed of.
This night’s journey was longer and harder than the preceding one, for
it was begun at an earlier hour. The boys were not allowed to ride in
the wagons, for Silas said they were slippery fellows—he knew it by
the glint in their eyes—and he wanted them where he could watch them
all the time.
Zack held along the base of the mountains, and at daylight our heroes
found themselves travelling over ground that was familiar to them. The
gully through which they had passed a few days before, and which led
to the valley where the wild horse was captured, was close before them.
Being almost ready to drop with fatigue they protested that it was
quite impossible for them to go any farther, but Zack did not listen,
for he was not yet ready to order a halt. He followed the gully as far
as the rocks and fallen trees would allow him to go with the wagons,
then turned into another and finally into a third, which was so much
worse than any of the rest that, before they had gone a quarter of a
mile, one of the wagons, having been shaken nearly to pieces by being
hauled over boulders and logs, gave out entirely and came down with a
crash.
“Thar’, now, I reckon we’ll stop,” said Zack; and this was welcome
news to the boys, who pulled their bundles out of the wagon and
threw themselves upon them, completely tired out. But they quickly
straightened up again and began to take some interest in what was
going on, when they found that the trappers themselves did not intend
to make a camp there. The two men held a short consultation, and some
words which came to the boys’ ears told them that the object of the
undertaking was now about to be realized. The emigrant’s wealth was to
be brought to light.
“This is as good a place as any,” said Silas. “They can’t mend the
wagon an’ find their way out afore to-morrow, an’ by that time we’ll be
miles away.”
The expression on the emigrant’s face showed that he too had overheard
the words, and that he understood them, but he made no other sign. He
had scarcely spoken for the last twenty-four hours. He seemed to be
bewildered, stunned by his misfortunes. When Zack and Silas dismounted
and raised the cover of the wagon which contained his treasure, he
looked on in a stupid, benumbed sort of way, which almost led the boys
to believe that he had taken leave of his senses.
“This must be it,” said Silas, after taking a survey of the interior of
the wagon. “It’s the only thing yer that looks like a chist!”
The hunter thrust his hands into the wagon, and when he drew them out
again they were grasping the handles of a small black trunk, which,
like all the rest of the Pike’s furniture that the boys had seen,
looked as though it might have made many a journey between Missouri and
California, for it was in a very dilapidated condition. The leather was
worn off in a dozen places and the lid was loosely held on by one hinge
and a piece of rope.
“There goes the labor of a lifetime, and I am a ruined man,” sighed
the Pike, resting his elbows on his knees and gazing at the box as if
fascinated.
“They’ve got hold of it, then,” whispered Archie, who would willingly
have given everything he possessed to have been able to defend the old
man’s property. “How I wish Dick and old Bob would come in here now. It
isn’t money, though. It is too light.”
“Thousand dollar greenbacks, may be,” said Fred, in the same low
whisper.
“Or bonds, perhaps,” suggested Eugene.
The hunter’s face expressed great astonishment. He had expected to find
the trunk very heavy, but he lifted it with all ease with one hand. He
had overheard the old man’s words, however, and dashed at the box like
a hound on a fresh trail. So great was his eagerness and impatience to
see the inside of it, that his hands trembled with such violence that
he could not undo the rope. The longer he tried the more the knot was
jammed; and at last Zack, fully as impatient as his companion, whipped
out his knife, cut the rope, and with one savage kick sent the lid
flying into the air.
The old man groaned and the boys arose to their feet to obtain a view
of the contents of the box. They could see no money or packages that
might contain money or other valuables—nothing but a small brass
frame, the inside of which was filled with wheels and weights made
of the same material, the whole contrivance somewhat resembling the
works of a clock. Silas stared at it a moment and then jerked it out
of the box and threw it on the ground behind him, expecting no doubt
to find something hidden under it. But this was all. The hunter then
picked up the trunk, shook it, looked at it all over, thumped it with
his knuckles, and then to make sure that it contained no secret
compartments, dashed it in pieces on the ground and carefully examined
each separate fragment. He was astounded, and so were the boys, who
were looking on with almost breathless interest.
“Whar is it, old man?” panted Silas, scarcely able to speak, so great
was his excitement.
“Why there it is,” said the Pike, gazing ruefully at his machine, and
then at the ruins of his trunk. “There’s uncounted millions in it!”
“In that?” shouted Silas. “Whar’s the money?”
“I have no money. That is yet to be earned.”
A long silence followed this reply. The expression of rage and
disappointment on the hunters’ faces was curious to behold.