Upon reaching the waggon it was to find Joses smiling and sniffing as he
stood on the leeward side of the fire, so as to get the full benefit of
the odour of the well-done sage grouse which looked juicy brown, and
delicious enough to tempt the most ascetic of individuals, while Maude
laughed merrily to see the eager glances Bart kept directing at the iron
rod upon which the birds had been spitted and hung before the fire.
"Don't you wish we had a nice new loaf or two, Bart?" she said, looking
very serious, and as if disappointed that this was not the case.
"Oh, don't talk about it," cried Bart.
"I won't," said Maude, trying to appear serious. "It makes you look
like a wolf, Bart."
"And that's just how I feel," he cried--"horribly like one."
Half an hour later he owned that he felt more like a reasonable being,
for not only had he had a fair portion of the delicate sage grouse, but
found to his delight that there was an ample supply of cakes freshly
made and baked in the ashes while he had been with the Doctor exploring.
Bart took one turn round their little camp before lying down to sleep,
and by the wonderfully dark, star-encrusted sky, the great flat-topped
mountain looked curiously black, and as if it leaned over towards where
they were encamped, and might at any moment topple down and crush them.
So strange was this appearance, and so thoroughly real, that it was a
long time before Bart could satisfy himself that it was only the shadow
that impressed him in so peculiar a way. Once he had been about to call
the attention of the Doctor to the fact, but fortunately, as he thought,
he refrained.
"He lay down directly," said Bart to himself as he walked on, and then
he stopped short, startled, for just before him in the solemn stillness
of the great plain, and just outside the shadow cast by the mountain, he
saw what appeared to be an enormously tall, dark figure coming towards
him in perfect silence, and seeming as if it glided over the sandy
earth.
Bart's heart seemed to stand still. His mouth felt dry. His breath
came thick and short. He could not run, for his feet appeared to be
fixed to the ground, and all he felt able to do was to wait while the
figure came nearer and nearer, through the transparent darkness, till it
was close upon him, and said in a low voice that made the youth start
from his lethargy, unchaining as it did his faculties, and giving him
the power to move:
"Hallo, Bart! I thought you were asleep."
"I thought you were, sir," said Bart.
"Well, I'm going to lie down now, my boy, but I've been walking in a
silver dream. Better get back."
He said no more, but walked straight to the little camp, while,
pondering upon the intent manner in which his guardian seemed to give
himself up to this dream of discovering silver, Bart began to make a
circuit of the camp, finding to his satisfaction that the Beaver had
posted four men as sentinels, Joses telling his young leader afterwards
when he lay down that the chief had refused to allow either of the white
men to go on duty that night.
"You think he is to be trusted, don't you, Joses?" asked Bart sleepily.
"Trusted? Oh yes, he's to be trusted, my lad. Injuns are as bad as can
be, but some of 'em's got good pyntes, and this one, though he might
have scalped the lot of us once upon a time, became our friend as soon
as the Doctor cured his arm. And it was a cure too, for now it's as
strong and well as ever. I tell you what, Master Bart."
No answer.
"I tell you what, Master Bart."
No answer.
"I say, young one, are you asleep?"
No reply.
"Well, he has dropped off sudden," growled Joses. "I suppose I must
tell him what another time."
Having made up his mind to this, the sturdy fellow gave himself a bit of
a twist in his blanket, laid his head upon his arm, and in a few seconds
was as fast asleep as Bart.
The latter slept soundly all but once in the night, when it seemed to
him that he had heard a strange, wild cry, and, starting up on his
elbow, he listened attentively for some moments, but the cry was not
repeated, and feeling that it must have been in his dreams that he had
heard the sound, he lay down again and slept till dawn, when he sprang
up, left every one asleep, and stole off, rifle in hand, to see if he
could get a shot at a deer anywhere about the mountain, and also to have
a look down into the tremendous canyon about whose depths and whose
rushing stream he seemed to have been dreaming all the night.
He recollected well enough the way they had gone on the previous
evening, and as he stepped swiftly forward, there, at the bottom of the
narrow rift between the mass of fallen rock and the mountain, was the
pale lemon-tinted horizon, with a few streaks above it flecking the
early morning sky and telling of the coming day.
"The canyon will look glorious when the sun is up," said Bart to
himself; "but I don't see any game about, and--oh!--"
_Click_--_click_--_click_--_click_ went the locks of his double rifle as
he came suddenly upon a sight which seemed to freeze his blood, forcing
him to stand still and gaze wildly upon what was before him.
Then the thought of self-preservation stepped in, and as if from the
lessons taught of the Indians, he sprang to shelter, sheltering himself
behind a block of stone, his rifle ready, and covering every spot in
turn that seemed likely to contain the cruel enemy that had done this
deed.
For there before him--but flat upon his back, his arms outstretched, his
long lance beneath him--lay one of the friendly Indians, while his
companion lay half raised upon his side, as if he had dragged himself a
short distance so as to recline with his head upon a piece of rock. His
spear was across his legs, and it was very evident that he had been like
this for some time after receiving his death wound.
For both were dead, the morning light plainly showing that in their
hideous glassy eyes, without the terrible witness of the pool of blood
that had trickled from their gaping wounds.
Bart shuddered and felt as if a hand of ice were grasping his heart.
Then a fierce feeling of rage came over him, and his eyes flashed as he
looked round for the treacherous enemies who had done this deed.
He looked in vain, and at last he stole cautiously out of his
lurking-place; then forgot his caution, and ran to where the Indians
lay, forgetting, in his eagerness to help them, the horrors of the
scene.
But he could do nothing, for as he laid his hand upon the breast of each
in turn, it was to find that their hearts had ceased to beat, and they
were already cold.
Racing back to the camp, he spread his news, and the Beaver and his
little following ran off to see for themselves the truth of his story,
after which they mounted, and started to find the trail of the
treacherous murderers of their companions, while during their absence
the Doctor examined the two slaughtered Indians, and gave it as his
opinion that they had both been treacherously stabbed from behind.
It was past mid-day before the Beaver returned to announce that there
had only been two Indians lurking about their camp.
"And did you overtake them?" said Bart.
The chief smiled in a curious, grim way, and pointed to a couple of
scalps that hung at the belts of two of his warriors.
"They were on foot. We were mounted," he said quietly. "They deserved
to die. We had not injured them, or stolen their wives or horses. They
deserved to die."
This was unanswerable, and no one spoke, the Indians going off to bury
their dead companions, which they did simply by finding a suitable
crevice in the depths of the ravine near which they had been slain,
laying them in side by side, with their medicine-bags hung from their
necks, their weapons ready to their hands, and their buffalo robes about
them, all ready for their use in the happy hunting-grounds.
This done they were covered first with bushes, and then with stones, and
the Indians returned to camp.