THROUGH THE SNARE.
The three men began to complete their raft, working with all their
power. In a few hours the work was done, and they were ready to go
down the river at a moment’s warning. Then Ben set to work upon
another cache for his skins, which it would be impossible to take
with him. He chose a place within the cañon through which the river
ran, and here he laid the skins. His brow was sad. The old man had
been deceived in regard to a comrade, and he was grieved.
“Do not grieve for a bad man,” said the girl, observing his sadness.
“He is not worth a single pang.”
“True enough, gal. An’ yit, I thought the lad a true one. I did
indeed. But, let him go; the time will come when he’ll be sorry in
his heart fer what he’s done.”
When all was ready, they pushed the raft down to the very mouth of
the cañon and there embarked. The horses were abandoned. Ben took his
station in front of the raft. Bentley and Jan took the sides, each
armed with a long pole. Millicent crouched in the center, beside the
pile of provisions which the forethought of the trapper had induced
him to bring.
A perilous path lay before them. The stream ran dark and swift
between huge bowlders of gray rock, rearing their heads in the
air. Without the skill of Trapper Ben their lives were not worth a
moment’s purchase. At first they were in the power of the “suck,”
which drew them rapidly toward the other bank, and threatened to dash
them on the place where the other raft was beaten to pieces. But the
quick eye of Ben saw the peril and averted it. As the raft dashed
down upon the wall a skillful push of the long pole sent it whirling
down the stream, while the other men stood aghast, and Millicent also
covered her face with her hands.
When she looked up, the present peril was over and they were dashing
down the dark channel at a breakneck speed. There was a wild,
triumphant look in the eyes of the old hunter, as he guided the raft
on its course.
“Hurray, boys; now we _ar’_ goin’,” he shouted, “Don’t be skeered,
little gal. I’ll take ye safe through, or bu’st things a-trying. Durn
a Frenchman. Does he think he kin overreach me? Hey! look out fer
that rock, Bentley. That’s right. You’d make a good raftsman in time.
Look sharp, Jan. Thar’s a rock loomin’ up on your side. Give it a sly
tap. That’s it. Well done. Ef we onc’t git on the level, it will be
all right. I’ve got an idee. Stand steady, boys. The wust time is
comin’. You kain’t help me much. Bentley, go astern and when that
brown rock is just abeam of us, sock that pole ag’inst it, and push
ez hard ez you kin. Now mind you do it.”
“Ay, ay,” said Bentley, going to the stern. “Give me the word.”
They were now approaching a place where a fall in the bed of the
stream made a rapid, in which the water was churned into dazzling
foam--a terrible sight to the eyes of those not accustomed to the
terrors of the western plains. Naturally brave, Millicent could not
help a shudder as she saw the danger upon which they were rushing
headlong. But a glance at that old man standing upright in the bow of
the raft, stern and calm, grimly confident in himself, restored her
courage.
Down into that wild waste of wreathing foam rushed the raft. A rock
was on the right hand, one on the left, and she seemed rushing
directly upon destruction in front. But, all at once, the head of the
raft swung round, and showed clear water in front, perhaps ten feet
in width, into which they rushed. The spray flew high overhead and
for a moment blinded them. The next moment they passed out of their
danger, and lay rising and falling in the more tranquil water just
above another beaver-dam, in the midst of the cañon.
“Aha,” said Ben. “Hyar we be. It’ll trouble Injuns to nose us out
hyar. They’ll git round lively ef they do.”
The raft floated on, and struck against the little dam. Using his
pole, Ben pushed it along close to the edge of the dam and gained the
shore, where he helped Millicent from the raft, and secured it.
“Dat ish goot,” said Jan. “More ash petter ash goot. De ret Blackfeet
nefer finds us here. Von’t tey pe mat!” and the Dutchman laughed
loudly. “Vat you do now, Penn?”
“Do? I’m going fur help. I kin git it too. I seen Crow signs when I
were out on the prairie after you, Bentley, and I think an old friend
of mine, Falling Oak they call him, is out on the plains. Ef I kin
find him, I’ll make ye safe, ef ye dar’ to stay.”
“I am willing,” said Millicent.
“And I,” said Bentley.
“I’d rudder go mit Penn, put if he say shtay here, I does it,” cried
Jan.
“Then I say stay hyar. They may need ye. Ef the wust comes, push out
yer raft an’ make fer the plains. Ye mout git off thet way. Ef so be
I’m above ground, I won’t be two days gone. I’ve left ye meat enough
to last a week, ef ye don’t go too heavy on it. Good-by, gal. Ef I
don’t come back and ye git away, remember the old man sometimes,
won’t ye?”
Millicent threw her arms about his neck, and kissed him as she might
have kissed her father. The face of the old man worked for a moment,
and then the undaunted one was sniveling.
“Thar, git away. Ye’ve made a baby of me at last. I knew ye would.
Now let me go. Good-by, boys. Whatever happens, take keer of the
little gal. Be sure of that.”
He sprung upon the dam and crossed to the other side. They saw him
clamber up the distant side of the mountain, and turn to wave his
hand in token of farewell. Then he passed over the crest and was lost
to sight.
A strange feeling fell upon them then. A feeling of loneliness, a
sense of insecurity, and all felt how much they had learned to love
and trust Trapper Ben. Jan felt his loss most of all, and went aside,
where he cast himself down on the ground and put his arm before his
eyes.
The others did not care to stay the tide of the honest Dutchman’s
sorrow, and a half-hour passed in unbroken silence, when suddenly
Millicent cried:
“Look there, look there!”
Above them, on a ledge of rocks, stood the strange creature which
had haunted them since their entrance into the hills. Jan ran for
his roer, but Bentley seized him and would not let him fire. But, at
the sight of the gun, the monster sprung away and concealed himself
behind a rock, from which he peeped out at them, dodging back when
the gun was presented.
“Don’t you dare to fire,” said Bentley. “You do not know what danger
you may bring down upon us by the act.”
Jan yielded reluctantly, and laid aside the gun. The moment he did
so the creature, with its fierce laugh, sprung up the cliff and
disappeared.
“Thank heaven he is gone,” said Millicent. “That monster gives me
more uneasiness than the Indians and Jules Damand to boot. Something
within tells me that the villain will yet give us trouble. Oh, if he
should get me, by any means, in his power!” And she visibly shuddered.
“One of us must stand guard,” said Bentley. “We have more dangers
than this to fear.”
“So you have,” yelled a voice on the cliff above. “Beware!”
They looked up, long enough to see the malicious face of Jules
Damand looking down upon them. It was only a passing glimpse, for he
disappeared immediately.
“Just as I feared,” said Millicent with a sigh. “That villain will
not let us rest.”
“He knew that we would take to the river, and followed along the
crest until he saw us land. There goes his rifle; he is firing at
something.”
The report of the rifle was followed by the cry of the Mountain
Devil. Then they heard the sound of feet upon the ledge above, and
shortly after Jules Damand appeared upon the ridge, closely pursued
by the wild thing. The Frenchman had a knife in his hand, and as he
reached the level rock overhanging the stream, and saw that he could
run no further, he turned at bay, and was ready to fight for his
life. The Mountain Devil held in his hand the barrel of the rifle
which he had wrenched from the hand of Jules, and the stock of which
he had shattered on the rocks.
“Shall we help him, Jan?”
“Yaw,” said Jan. “Den we tie him oop.”
They began to clamber up the rocks, while Millicent stood, with bated
breath, watching the combat on the ledge. The monster was raining a
storm of blows upon the head of the Frenchman; but he had closed and
grasped it by the shaggy hair upon its breast, so that the blows were
not at the full sweep of the arm. Already the keen knife had been
plunged thrice to the hilt in the body of the monster, when it threw
down the rifle barrel, and caught Jules Damand in its long arms.
Millicent uttered a scream which rung through the hills, for she
saw that the man was doomed. The monster had got his death-wound,
but still the strength he possessed was too much for Jules Damand,
even though fighting with the energy of despair. He saw the heads of
Bentley and Jan appear above the ledge, and knew that they would be
too late, for the monster had forced him back to the extreme edge of
the chasm, two hundred feet above the torrent below.
As the feet of Bentley reached the rock he caught a glimpse of the
agonized face of Damand, whose paleness was terrible. He gasped for
breath and made one struggle. It was his last; for the next moment,
with a demoniac laugh, the huge body of the Mountain Devil shot out
into the air, bearing in its arms the form of Damand. Millicent saw
them strike the water, and ran to the spot. A crimson stain told
where they had gone down, and a white hand and arm could be seen
struggling faintly in the flood. She seized it, and with a strength
which was unnatural dragged Jules Damand out of the water. He had
only time to gasp out a prayer for forgiveness, and die.
They buried him that day under the shadow of the ledge. The body of
the Mountain Devil was also raised, and they laid it on the shore.
Then they saw that it was in the form of a man of gigantic size,
whose uncouth aspect might have been gained by companionship with
beasts. They buried him too, and waited for Ben.
He came back next day, triumphant, but would tell them nothing. “Come
along,” he said, and they followed with implicit faith up the ledge.
The day was nearly spent when they reached their old camp, but Ben
caught the horses and made his companions mount. Jules had left his
horse, which had found its way back to the camp. Bentley took it.
Ben gave up his own good beast to Millicent, and walked by its side.
They reached the mouth of the pass, and Ben called them to a halt,
and pointed out upon the prairie. There they saw the band of Whirling
Breeze encamped, apparently in the greatest security.
“Load yer weepons, boys,” said Ben. “Leave the gal hyar. I’m goin’ to
fire my rifle. When I do, watch the spur of the mountain yonder, an’
then foller me.”
They obeyed him. Ben raised his rifle and fired in the air. Obedient
to the signal, two hundred warriors, armed to the teeth, emerged
from their covert and charged the astonished Blackfeet. Ben sprung
into his saddle and rode forward to aid his friends. He came too
late. The band of Whirling Breeze was scattered, and he only escaped
by the speed of his horse. Ben arrived in time to sequestrate two
fine mustangs, and compliment the Crow chief upon the neatness and
dispatch of the action.
The party proposed to return to the forts. The chief and fifty
chosen warriors rode with them. Among the prisoners Ben found the
son of Whirling Breeze, and asked the chief for him. The request was
granted, and the young warrior was set at liberty and returned to his
friends.
“Chief,” said Ben, when he had heard the story of the death of the
Mountain Devil, “do ye know what that was?”
“Half-breed,” said the chief. “Mad. Lived in the Black Hills many
years. Glad he dead. Kill many warriors.”
“It was a madman, then,” said Bentley. “I thought so.”
A few miles from the first fort the Indians left them. They reached
the fort in safety. Here the old man and Jan bade them good-by, but
not until he had seen Bentley and Millicent married by the fort
chaplain. The parting was painful, and the young bride was deeply
affected. But it was over at last, and Millicent, hand in hand with
her husband, watched their retiring forms as they passed over the
prairie, toward the distant hills.
When Bentley Morris was older, and children were growing up about his
knees, in the strong young State of which he was a leading man, he
often told the tale of those perilous times, with Trapper Ben and Jan
Schneider, in the camp in the Black Hills.
And once a year a letter, strange in orthography and composition,
comes from the two trappers. Jan is still with Ben, and will be to
the last.
THE END.
Transcriber’s Notes
The Table of Contents at the beginning of the book was created by
the transcriber.
Minor punctuation and spelling errors have been silently corrected
and, except for those changes noted below, all misspellings in the
text, especially in dialogue, and inconsistent or archaic usage,
have been retained.
Page 9: “the Hudson Bay was at its hight” changed to “the Hudson
Bay was at its height”.
Page 43: “headed by a giant bull, whose patriarchial” changed to
“headed by a giant bull, whose patriarchal”.