FRANK IN SEARCH OF HIS SUPPER.
"He's out!" shouted Frank, scrambling down out of his tree.
"I thought I could manage him," said Adam. "Don't you think my plan was
the best? But I say, Frank," he added, as he joined our hero at the top
of the hill, "we must fire the rifle once, at least, for we want some
supper."
"If we could use a bow and arrow as well as the Black Fox, we would not
need the rifle. Now, one of us had better stay here, and build a fire in
the cave, and gather a supply of wood for the night, while the other
goes out and knocks over a big-horn. The mountains about here are full
of them."
"Well, seeing that you are the best shot, perhaps you had better go to
market. By the time you get back, I will have every thing ready. You
are not afraid to go?"
No, Frank was not afraid, but still he did not like the idea of
wandering off alone among those mountains. He would have felt much more
at his ease if the big-horn had already been killed, and was ready for
the spit. Besides the danger of getting lost, there were the outlaws,
who might hear the report of his rifle, and pounce down upon him before
he could secure his game and make good his retreat to the cave. He and
his companion might have gone without their suppers for that night
without serious inconvenience, but they were still eighty miles from
Fort Benton, and, while they were traveling across the prairie, they
might not find any thing to shoot, for the Indians had doubtless
frightened away all the game. If Frank succeeded in killing a big-horn,
it was their intention to cook it all, and carry with them a supply of
the meat sufficient to last them until they reached the fort.
Adam began looking about for dry wood with which to start the fire in
the cave, and Frank shouldered his rifle and started down the cliff. He
followed the same course which he, and Archie, and the trapper had
pursued on a former occasion, when they went out to hunt big-horns, and
presently found himself in the ravine in which his cousin had met with
his first adventure with a grizzly. Dick had once told him that if the
trees in that ravine could speak, they could relate many a thrilling
story about him and Bill Lawson; and Frank thought that, if they could
find tongues now, they might have something to say concerning himself
that would prove interesting.
The deer-path which Frank was following ran through the ravine for about
half a mile, and then led down the side of a precipitous cliff, and
terminated on a rocky ledge, perhaps twenty-five feet square, in the
center of which was a spring of water. When Frank reached the edge of
this cliff, he looked over it very cautiously, and was gratified to see,
about a hundred feet below him, a noble elk, with wide-spreading
antlers, drinking from the spring.
"Our supper is all right," soliloquized the young hunter, after he had
taken a good survey of the ledge, and calculated the animal's chances
for escape in case he failed to disable him at the first shot. "That
ledge juts out into a gorge which is much too wide for any deer to jump.
If he tries it, I am sure of him, for he will fall on the rocks and be
killed. He can't scale the cliff, unless he comes up the path; and, if
he tries that, I'll be here to stop him."
Frank did not usually spend as many minutes in getting ready for a shot
as he did on this particular evening. On ordinary occasions, his rifle
was at his shoulder the instant the game appeared in sight; and one
quick glance along the barrel made him sure of his aim. But this was not
an ordinary occasion. He was working for his supper now, there were
enemies all around him, and it was rapidly growing dark. He must kill
the elk at the first shot, secure a portion of it (the animal was so
large and heavy he knew he could not carry it all), and make his way
back to the Old Bear's Hole without the loss of a single minute. He
raised his rifle and took a long and deliberate aim at the buck, and
just then the animal bounded across the spring and came leisurely up
the path. For a single second his breast presented a fair mark; but
that second was long enough for Frank. The rifle cracked sharply, and
the elk, turning in his tracks, made one tremendous bound, and, leaping
clear across the ledge, disappeared among the trees which lined the
sides of the gorge. Frank's supper was not all right, after all.
"Now just look at that!" he exclaimed, in a tone of great
disappointment. "When one is in a hurry, something always happens to
trouble him. The deer is dead enough, but what good will he do me as
long as he lies at the bottom of the gully?"
As Frank said this, he jumped to his feet, and, running down the path,
looked over the ledge. The bushes were so thick that he could not see
the bottom of the gorge; but there were drops of blood on the leaves,
and Frank knew that the fall had proved fatal to the buck, even if the
shot had not. What plan could he contrive to descend into the ravine was
the question that troubled him now; and it was one that was asked and
answered almost in the same breath. He chanced to look toward the top
of the cliff, and was frightened nearly out of his senses when he
discovered two Indians advancing toward him with stealthy footsteps. He
was now in the same situation in which the elk had been but a moment
before, with this slight difference: He was conscious of the presence of
his enemies, while the first intimation of danger the buck had was,
receiving the ball in his breast. There was no place of concealment on
the ledge, and he had his choice between two courses of action: One was
to ascend the path in the face of the Indians, and the other to jump
over into the ravine. He was not long in coming to a decision. He took a
single glance at the Indians, and, seeing that one of them was in the
act of raising his gun to take aim at him, he tightened his grasp on his
rifle, which he held in his left hand, and seizing with his right the
bushes that grew on the edge of the precipice, he fearlessly threw
himself into the gorge, while the bullet that was intended for him sped
harmlessly through the empty air. The Indian was just a moment too late.
Both savages uttered loud yells of astonishment as they witnessed this
act of desperation, and, bounding swiftly down the path, they leaned
over the rocks to see what had become of the reckless young hunter. The
bushes, by the aid of which he had swung himself over the precipice,
sprang back to their place, but Frank was nowhere to be seen. The
Indians thought, no doubt, that he had paid for his temerity with his
life, and that he was lying mangled and bleeding at the bottom of the
gorge; but could they have looked under the overhanging rock on which
they were kneeling, they would have seen him standing erect and unharmed
about ten feet below them, with his rifle clubbed, ready to strike the
first of his foes who came in sight. His attempt at escape was not so
reckless as the Indians imagined it to be. While standing on the ledge,
he noticed that the branches of a tree, which grew at the bottom of the
ravine, extended almost to the top of the precipice, and he thought he
could jump into them with perfect safety. Still he hesitated to try it,
until he discovered the Indians, and then he found that he had no
alternative. To assist him in his descent, and to render the attempt
less hazardous, he made use of the bushes, which, contrary to his
calculations, swung with him far below the top of the tree, and out of
reach of it. This proved, however, to be a point in his favor; for, to
his great surprise and delight, he landed on a broad, flat rock, which
was effectually concealed from the view of the Indians by the
overhanging cliff. It seemed as if this way of escape had been prepared
expressly for him. If he had built the cliff himself he could not have
devised a better hiding-place. His enemies, even if they discovered him,
could not climb up to him from the bottom of the cliff, for it was so
steep that a mountain-goat could scarcely have found footing thereon;
and if they descended to him from above, he would shoot the first one
who came in sight.
"I am all right yet," thought the young hunter, drawing a long breath of
relief, and feeling for his powder-horn. "There is only one way in which
the Indians can get the better of me, and that is by starving me out.
Adam must go without his supper to-night, for I have business on my
hands that will----"
Frank paused in his soliloquy, and his face once more grew pale with
terror. He could find no ammunition for his rifle. When Adam removed the
powder-horn and bullet-pouch from the person of the outlaw, he had
thrown them over his own shoulders, and there they were now. Frank had
left his companion without thinking to ask for them. He was in something
of a predicament, standing, as he was, almost within reach of two
hostile Indians, and without even a charge of powder or a bullet for his
rifle. A movement at the top of the cliff drew his thoughts from himself
to his enemies. They leaned over the precipice and conversed earnestly
for a few minutes, and then one of them sprang into the air and landed
in the branches of the tree. Fortunately his back was turned toward
Frank, and this gave the latter an opportunity to conceal himself, which
he quickly did. The savage, little dreaming that the object of his
search was so near to him, descended the tree and disappeared among the
bushes which lined the sides of the gorge.
While Frank was waiting to see what the other Indian was going to do, he
was sure that he heard the sound of a desperate struggle at the bottom
of the ravine. It continued but a moment, and then all was still again.
He might have been mistaken in this, but still he was certain that
something had happened down there, and so was the Indian, who, after
waiting nearly ten minutes for the report of his companion, uttered some
words in the Indian tongue. An answer came from below, and the savage
sprang into the tree and quickly descended to the bottom of the gorge.
Frank thought he had gone down to assist in cutting up the buck; but if
that was his intention, he did not carry it out. His companion had been
tomahawked the moment he reached the foot of the tree, and a like fate
was in store for him. Two trappers, one of them in the disguise of an
Indian, were concealed among the bushes in the ravine, awaiting his
appearance. The wary savage, always on the lookout for danger,
discovered his foes, but just a moment too late. The report of a rifle
rang through the mountains, and the Indian, falling headlong to the
ground, was instantly pounced up by the trappers, and dispatched as if
he had been a rabid wolf. Frank's ears told him what had been going on,
and his heart beat high with hope. Friends were near, and he was certain
that he knew who they were. Without stopping to consider that there
might be more Indians in the vicinity, who would be attracted by the
sound of his voice, he called out: "Dick Lewis!"
There was silence for a moment, and then came the reply: "Show yourself,
you keerless feller!"
Frank, too overjoyed to speak again, was on his feet in an instant, and
preparing to descend into the ravine. There was but one way to
accomplish this, and that was to spring into the tree. It was a long
jump from where he stood, and, if he failed to catch one of the limbs,
or if it proved too weak to sustain his weight, he would fall forty or
fifty feet. But Frank did not stop to think of this. Grasping his rifle
tightly in one hand, he sprang into the air, and, by the aid of a
friendly branch, swung down to the body of the tree in safety. In a
moment more he was standing between Dick and Bob, who were wringing his
hands with an energy that brought the tears to his eyes.
But little time was wasted in explanations. Frank told the trappers that
he had left Adam at the Old Bear's Hole, and that he had come out in
search of his supper; and Dick told him that he and Bob were traveling
through the ravine, on their way to the cave, when they heard the report
of the rifle and saw the buck fall over the precipice. They also heard
the voices of the Indians on the cliff, and, supposing that they owned
the game, and that they would be likely to descend into the ravine to
secure it, they concealed themselves in the bushes to await their
appearance. The first savage who came down the tree was easily
overpowered; and when his companion called out: "Do you see any thing of
the white man?" (that was the first intimation the trappers had that
there was a white hunter about) Dick replied: "Yes; he's here, but I
can't get at him." "That brought the Injun down, you see," said the
latter, in conclusion, "an' when he come in sight, we sent him where
he'll never get a chance to attack any more peaceable tradin'-posts,
I'll bet a hoss. Fetch along the mustang, Bob, an' we'll start for the
Ole Bar's Hole."
The horse was brought up, and Frank fairly danced with delight when he
found that it was Roderick. The animal recognized his master, and
answered his caresses by rubbing his head against his shoulder. Frank
sprang upon his back, and the trappers, after they had raised the elk
from the ground and placed it before him, led the way toward the cave.
It was quite dark when they arrived within sight of it, but Dick knew in
an instant that there was something wrong; and so did Bob, who placed
his hand on his companion's shoulder and pointed toward the top of the
cliff.
"My eyes aint as good as they used to be," said he, "but if that aint an
Injun up thar, I never seed one."
"An' if that aint one of Black Bill's mates standin' at the foot of the
cliff, may I be shot!" added Dick.
"Then they've tracked us, after all the trouble we took to throw them
off our trail!" whispered Frank, in great excitement. "Who knows but
that they have captured Adam?"
"If they have, we'll soon turn him loose," replied Dick. "Now,
youngster, you stay here, an' me an' Bob will creep up an' take a look
at things. If thar aint nobody in the cave except Black Bill an' his
friends, we'll clean 'em out in a hurry. We've got a long account to
settle with one of them fellers, an' this is jest the time to do it."
The trappers stole off in the darkness, and Frank sat on his horse and
awaited the issue of events with feelings that can not be described. He
saw Dick and Bob creep noiselessly upon the outlaw who stood at the foot
of the cliff, and seize, gag, and bind him; and so silently was the
whole operation performed, in spite of the man's furious struggles, that
he did not hear even a leaf rustle. One enemy had been disposed of; but
there were still three others, besides the Indian, to be overcome.
"If I had a load for my rifle I wouldn't sit here long," said Frank, to
himself. "I know there will be a desperate fight in that cave if Black
Bill is there, and perhaps just one bullet may be needed to decide the
battle in our favor. What in the world was that?"
A thin sheet of flame, followed by a dense volume of smoke, suddenly
arose from the mouth of the upper passage-way. The moment's silence
that succeeded was broken by cries of pain and loud yells of anger, and
through the smoke, which settled like a cloud over the cliff, the Indian
appeared, running at the top of his speed, as if badly frightened at
something, and directing his course toward a thicket of bushes at the
opposite side of the ravine. The thought that it was the Black Fox had
scarcely passed through Frank's mind when he discovered that there were
two horses tied to the bushes, and that the Indian was running toward
them, evidently with the intention of mounting one of them and making
good his escape. Frank leaned forward to obtain a better view of the
animals, and, in a moment more, the elk had been pitched to the ground,
and Roderick was flying down the ravine with the speed of the wind.
"Stop, you Black Fox!" shouted Frank, swinging his rifle around his head
and giving vent to a yell that awoke the echoes far and near. "I've got
something to say about this business."
One of the horses was Pete, and the other was King James. While
Roderick had been faithfully serving the trappers--he had carried Dick
Lewis through that desperate hand-to-hand fight at the fort, and, like
him, escaped without a single injury--his swift rival had been equally
faithful to one of the outlaws. Black Bill had captured him from one of
the soldiers during the fight, and, recognizing Dick's massive form
among the struggling horsemen, he had made every exertion to come to
close quarters with him. Roderick moved so swiftly, however, that the
black could not overtake him; and perhaps that was a fortunate thing for
the outlaw, if he had only known it. While Dick was cutting his way
through the ranks of the Indians, he was keeping a bright lookout for
Black Bill, and if he could have found him, and brought him within reach
of the cavalry saber which he was wielding with such telling effect, he
would have put a sudden stop to his career of depredation. Pete had
carried Black Bill many a long mile since his master last saw him; but
now he seemed in a fair way to fall into the hands of his rightful
owner.
"Stop, I tell you!" shouted Frank, again. "You are at the end of your
rope now, my hearty."
The young Indian heard the order, but paid no attention to it. He ran
directly to the horses, and, springing upon King James's back, cut the
lasso, with which he was tied, with his knife, and went tearing down the
ravine, with Frank in hot pursuit. The time had come now to decide the
question which had been so long in dispute. This was to be a fair race,
and Frank wished his cousin had been there to witness it, for he was
sure of a victory.
A few of Roderick's long bounds carried him through the willows and out
on the prairie, where Frank discovered the Indian, almost a hundred
yards distant, lying flat along his horse's neck, one hand twisted in
his mane, and the other swinging the lasso, which he now and then
brought down on the black's side with a sounding whack. Roderick seemed
to know what was expected of him, for he increased his speed the moment
he emerged from the willows, and then the race began in earnest. The
gray gained from the start, and rapidly, too; and, before half a mile
had been accomplished, Frank was so close to the object of his pursuit
that he leaned forward to catch him by the scalp-lock.
"I guess you'll stop now, Indian!" he exclaimed. "Well, it makes no
difference to me which way you take it, on foot or on horseback, for I
can beat you."
The Indian, for once, was a little too quick for Frank. Slipping like an
eel out of his grasp, he threw himself from his horse without attempting
to check his headlong speed, and, landing safely on his feet, started
back toward the willows. Frank was on the ground almost at the same
instant; and then began another race, which, like the one that had come
off the day before at the Indian camp, was decided in favor of the
fleet-footed young hunter. The Black Fox, however, was desperate to the
last; and, after the race, a fight ensued. One quick, determined blow
with the rifle knocked the knife from the savage's hand; but that was
not the end of the matter--it was only the beginning of it. The young
warrior's strength and agility seemed to have increased wonderfully
since their last meeting, and the struggle, which continued at least ten
minutes, was decided only by Frank's superior powers of endurance. He
came off with flying colors; and when he helped his prisoner to his
feet, his arms were fastened behind his back with his own belt.