the trail. He went three days and three nights before he heard a
living thing. Then the echoes of hoofbeats thudded on the trail after
him. But he turned not.
"Soon afterward, a horse galloped up beside him, and as he leaped upon
its back, it neighed. The others followed after the leader, and all
rode into camp, as the great Chief had said it would be.
"Great was the wonderment and rejoicing when Good Arrow showed his
people the marvelous steeds and told his story. The robe and spear
bore him out in his words. But Spotted Bear turned to crawl away from
the campfire. Then Good Arrow stood forth, and said in a loud voice of
judgment, 'Bring Spotted Bear here for trial.'
"The story of his cowardice and theft was then related to the tribe,
and the judgment pronounced was for the outcast to become a nameless
wanderer on the earth. Even as the Chief spoke these words of
punishment, the robe he had always bragged about, fell from his back
and turned into dust at his feet.
"Thus came the Spirit's gift of horses to mankind, and Good Arrow
became a wise Medicine Man of the Blackfeet."
Tally concluded his story, and resumed his pipe as if there had been
no prolonged lapse between his smokes.
CHAPTER THREE
JULIE'S STRANGE EXPERIENCE
"That was a splendid story, Tally," said the Captain, as Tally
concluded his legend.
"Yes, I like it better than those I have read of the First Horses in
books from the Smithsonian Institution," added Mrs. Vernon.
"Him true story! My Chief tell so," declared Tally, positively, and
not one of the scouts refuted his statement.
"Well, I don't know how you girls feel, but I will confess that I'm
ready for a nap," remarked Mr. Gilroy, trying to hide a yawn.
"No objections heard to that motion," declared Mr. Vernon.
"Not after such a day's voyage in this schooner," laughed Julie. "I'll
be fast asleep in a jiffy."
So the blankets were spread out over the floor of the wagon, and the
girls rolled themselves into them, and stretched out as planned. The
planks of the floor were awfully hard and there seemed to be ridges
just where they were not wanted. Directly under Julie's back was a
great iron bolt but she could not move far enough to either one side
or the other to avoid it. So she doubled her blanket over it, and left
her feet upon the bare wooden planks.
"I'm thankful there are no tall members in this Troop," remarked the
Captain, after they were all settled in a row. "If there were, her
feet would have to hang over the side of the wagon."
Tally and the two men spread out their rubber covers in front of the
fire, and all were soon asleep.
Julie's brag about falling fast asleep in a jiffy proved false, for
she could not rest comfortably because of the bolt. So her sleep was
troubled and she half-roused several times, although she did not fully
awaken. Then, during one of these drowsy experiences when she tried to
get on one side of the bolt, she heard a strange sound.
She sat up and looked around. It was still dark, although the first
streaks of dawn were showing in the sky. Her companions were stretched
out under their covers, and Mrs. Vernon was softly snoring. Julie
lifted a corner of the canvas curtain to ascertain what it was that
awakened her, and she saw a suspicious sight.
The guide was in the act of getting upon his feet without disturbing
the two men who slept soundly by the fireside. He waved a hand, as a
signal, towards the brush some ten feet away. And there Julie saw a
hand and arm motioning him, but no other part of its owner could be
seen.
"Well I never!" thought Julie to herself, as she watched Tally creep
away from the fire and make for the bushes.
He was soon hidden behind the foliage, and then Julie heard sounds as
of feet moving along the forest trail.
"I'm not going to let him put anything over on us, if I know it!"
thought she. And she quickly stepped over the quiet forms in the
wagon, and slid down from the back of the schooner. That night the
scouts had on moccasins, fortunately, and her feet made no sound as
she swiftly followed the Indian through the screen of leaves. Then she
saw, some dozen yards ahead of her, two forms hurrying up a steep
trail that ran through the forest. One was Tally, and his companion
was an Indian maiden.
Unseen, Julie softly followed after them, and finally they came to a
roaring mountain torrent that was bridged by a great fallen pine. On
the other side of this stream were two shining black horses, with
manes and tails so long and thick that the scout marveled. They were
caparisoned in Indian fashion with gay colors and fancy trappings.
The maiden quickly loosed the steeds and Tally sprang up into one
saddle, while the squaw got up into the other. Then they continued up
along the trail without as much as a glance behind.
Julie managed to creep over the treetrunk and gained the other side of
the torrent, then ran after them as fast as she could go. But they had
disappeared over the crest and the scout had to slow up, as her breath
came in panting gasps.
Finally she, too, reached the summit, but there was no sign of horses
or riders. A wide cleared area covered the top of the mountain, from
which a marvelous view of Denver and its environs could be had.
Distant peaks now glimmered in the rising sun, and Julie sighed in
ecstasy at such a wonderful sight.
Then she remembered what brought her there, and she ran across the
clearing to look for a trail down the other side and, perchance, a
glimpse of the Indians.
Passing a screen of thick pines, she suddenly came to an old flower
garden, and on the other side of it stood a rambling old stone castle,
similar to Glen Eyrie at Colorado Springs.
"Humph! This looks as if some one tried to imitate General Palmer's
gorgeous castle, but gave it up in despair," thought she.
Julie walked across the intervening space and reached the moss-grown
stone steps that led to a great arched doorway. She had a glance,
through wide-opened doors, of gloomy hallway and a great staircase,
then she skirted the wing of the building, and came out to a wide
terrace that ran along the entire front of the pile. The view from
this high terrace caused her to stand perfectly still and gaze in awe.
She could see for miles and miles over the entire country from the
height she stood upon. It was almost as wonderful a view as that from
Pike's Peak. Sheer down from the stone terrace dropped a precipice of
more than five thousand feet. Far down at its base she could see a
stream winding a way between dots of ranches and narrow ribbons of
roadways.
"This is the most marvelous scene yet!" murmured Julie. Then she
frowned as a thought came to her. "If Tally knew of this place,--and it
is evident that he did,--why did he not tell us of it, so that we could
climb up and see it in the morning? And why isn't this old castle on
the road-map, with a note telling tourists of the magnificent view
from this height?"
After a long time given to silent admiration of the country as seen
from the terrace, Julie turned and slowly walked up the stone steps
that led into the hall. "Wonder if the place is abandoned," thought
she, peeping inside the doorway.
As no sound or sign of life was evident, she tiptoed in and gazed
about. The tiles on the floor were of beautiful design and coloring,
and the woodwork was tinted to correspond. The walls were covered with
rare old tapestries, while here and there adown the length of the hall
stood suits of armor and mailed figures.
Bronze chandeliers hung from the high ceilings, and on each side of
the hall stood bronze _torcheres_ holding gigantic wax candles.
"Well, in all my life I never dreamed of visiting such a museum of old
relics!" sighed Julie, who dearly loved antiques.
Suddenly, as silently as everything else about the place, there
appeared a white-haired servitor in baronial uniform. He came forward
and deferentially bowed, then he spoke to Julie.
"Are you the Indian maiden the guide was to meet to-day?"
Julie was so amazed at the question that she could not reply, so she
barely nodded her head.
"Then follow me, as the master waits. The guide sits below, eating
breakfast," added the old servant.
At the mention of breakfast, Julie felt her empty stomach yearn for a
bite of it, but she silently turned and followed the major-domo, as
she knew him to be, along the hall and up the stairs. As they reached
the first landing the old man said, "The master is in his laboratory
in the tower. Breakfast will be served there."
Julie accepted this as cheerful news, so she fearlessly followed after
the guide. She had seen no tower from the outside of the rambling
building, but, she thought, there might have been one at the wing
opposite the one around which she came when she walked to the front of
the place.
Having reached the top of the stairs, Julie saw that the entire
second-floor walls were covered with ancient portraits. She would have
loved to stop and study the ancient costumes of the women, but the man
ascended the second flight of stairs, and she must follow.
They went along the hall on the third floor, and at the end the
servitor entered a small room that was heavily hung with velour
_portieres_. He pushed them aside and turned a knob that seemed to be
set in the carved panel. Instantly this panel swung open and disclosed
a narrow spiral stairway leading to an iron platform overhead.
Julie began to question the wisdom of this reckless act of hers; but
having come so far, how could she back out gracefully? Why should this
master want to breakfast with an Indian squaw--for such he was
expecting?
"This way," politely reminded the old man, and Julie had to see the
thing through to the end--whatever that might be.
At the head of these spiral stairs the man pulled on a heavy cord, and
another hidden door set in carved panelling opened. Through this they
went, and then the man said:
"Be seated, and I will call the master."
Julie gazed about her in profound curiosity. The room was an
octagon-shaped laboratory, so dark that its corners were in shadow.
The only light came from a huge glass dome ceiling. One side of the
room was taken up by a great fireplace; opposite this stood a high
cabinet filled with the vials and other equipment of a chemist. The
paneled door through which she came took up the third side, and the
five other sides were filled with tiers of shelves, where stood rows
of morocco-bound books.
Great leather chairs stood about the room, and in the center, upon a
magnificent Kirmanshaw rug, stood an onyx table with a great crystal
globe upon it. At one side, near the narrow door through which the old
servant had gone, stood a grand piano.
Julie had no time for further inspection of the room, as a unique
figure suddenly appeared in the small doorway through which the
servitor had gone. He was very tall and thin, and was clad in
wonderfully embroidered East Indian robes. A fez cap covered the bald
head on top, and a thin straggly white beard fringed the lower part of
his face. Upon his scrawny finger a strange stone glittered and
instantly attracted her gaze.
Julie wondered who this unusual person might be, but he vouchsafed no
information. In fact, he stood perfectly still as if waiting for her
to open the conversation. This proved to be the fact, for he gazed
searchingly at the girl, and then murmured, "Well?"
Julie tried to summon a smile and act nonchalant, but the entire
atmosphere of the place was too oppressive for such an air, so she
stood, changing her weight from one foot to the other. This form of
action--or to be more exact, inaction--continued for a few minutes, then
the old man gave vent to a hollow laugh. It sounded so sepulchral that
Julie shivered with apprehension.
He started to cross the room. When he came within a few feet of his
guest he said, raspingly, "Maiden, I know thee. Thou'rt a descendant
of Spotted Bear, the coward! And I--I am the young Medicine Man who won
the robe and spear, and brought the horses to earth for mankind to
use. Hast aught to say to that?"
At these words Julie was too amazed to answer. To see the hero of that
wonderful Indian legend standing before her eyes--but oh, how old he
must be, for that happened ages ago, and his yellow parchment-like
skin attested to a great age.
As she thought over these facts, she could not keep her eyes from the
old man's face, and now she actually could trace a resemblance to the
young guide, Tally. Could the latter be a descendant of this Medicine
Man's? As if the old fellow read her thoughts, he chuckled, "Aye! The
guide is one of my tribe, and thou art a member of that of the
outcast, Spotted Bear. Because I have found thee, I shall see that no
descendant of that coward's goes forth again to trouble the world."
Julie began to fear that she had been very indiscreet in coming into
this old ruin as she had done, especially as she would find it
difficult to convince this old man that she was not the Indian maiden
he thought her to be. But she paid attention to his next act, which
was to pull out a great chair and drop back in it as if too weary to
stand longer upon his spindling legs.
"Art hungry? Even my enemy must not complain of our bounty." So
saying, the old man reached forth a long thin arm and his fingers
pushed upon a button in the wall. Instantly a panel moved back and
disclosed a cellaret built into the wall. Here were delicious fruits,
cakes, and fragrant coffee.
"Help thyself. I will wait till thou art done," said he, waving his
hand at the food.
Julie was so hungry that the sight of the fruit made her desperate.
Had her future welfare depended upon it, she could not have withstood
the temptation to eat some of that fruit. She went over to take an
orange, but a horrible thrust in her back caused her to cry out and
put both hands behind her.
To her horror she found the old man had thrown some hard knob at her
and it had made such a dent in her flesh that it could be distinctly
felt at the base of her spine. The insane laughter that greeted her
wail of pain made her realize that she was in the presence of a
madman!
"Why not eat, Maiden? I will amuse myself, meantime," said the old
man, as he finished his laughter.
Julie saw him rise and hobble over to the piano, then seat himself
before the keyboard and begin to play the weirdest music she had ever
heard. But the pain in her back continued so that the thought of
breakfast vanished. All she cared for now was to get rid of that
suffering.
When she could stand the agony no longer, she gathered courage enough
to limp over to the piano and beg him to release her, as she was in
great pain.
"Aha! Didst ever think of how Spotted Bear caused the child to suffer
when it went down in the water?" asked he, suspending his hands over
the piano keys.
"But I hadn't anything to do with that! Why strike me for his crimes?"
retorted Julie, gaining courage in her pain.
The old man frowned at her fiercely, and mumbled, "Art obstinate? Then
we'll have to use other ways." He turned and pushed another button in
the wall back of the piano, and instantly the glass dome overhead
became darkened, so that Julie could not see the objects in the room
very plainly.
The host got up and started slowly for Julie. His eyes seemed afire
with a maniac's wildness, and the scout feared he was planning to
attack her. She screamed for help, and ran for the door in the
paneling through which she had entered. But the cry seemed muffled in
her throat and no audible sound came forth.
The host laughed that same horrible laugh again, and Julie tried
again, harder than ever, to shout for help. Still her vocal chords
seemed paralyzed, and no sound was heard from them.
Just as she reached the paneling, the old man must have hurled another
hard ball at her, for she felt the blow in her back and shrunk with
the pain. And as she squirmed, she distinctly felt the painful object
move from one side of her spine to the other, as if it were a button
under the skin that was movable.
But the door in the panel could not be opened, and Julie worked her
hands frantically over its surface, while the old Indian laughed and
crept closer to her. When he was near enough to reach out and take her
in his awful hands, the scout gathered all her courage and flung
herself upon him.
She fought with hands and teeth, and kicked with her feet, hoping that
his great age would render him too weak to resist her young muscular
strength. She knew she must overpower him or he would kill her,
mistaking her for the maiden descended from Spotted Bear.
She had thus far won the hand-to-hand fight, so that he was down upon
his knees and she was over him with her hands at his throat, when
suddenly he collapsed, and his eyes rolled upwards at her. In her
horror she managed to yell for help, and then she heard--
"Julie! Julie! Have mercy! Stop tearing Betty to bits!"
Through a vague distance Julie recognized the voice of Joan. Oh, if
they were only there to help! But she kept a grip on the old Chief's
neck while she waited to answer the call.
Then she heard very plainly, "For the love of Pete, Julie, wake up,
won't you!" And some one shook her madly.
Julie sat up and rubbed her eyes dazedly, while the scouts about her
laughed wildly, and Betty scolded angrily.
"Oh, Julie, what an awful nightmare you must have had," laughed Mrs.
Vernon.
"Is Tally back?" asked Julie.
"He's cooking breakfast,--smell it," said Anne, smacking her lips.
"I can smell coffee," mumbled Julie, still unconvinced that she had
been dreaming. "It smells exactly like that old man's."
"What old man?" again asked the circle about her.
"Why, Good Arrow, to be sure! He lives up on that hill--and, girls,
he's as old as Methusaleh, I'm sure!" declared Julie.
The wild laughter that greeted this serious statement of hers did more
to rouse the Leader from a cloudy state of mind than anything else,
and soon she was up and out of the wagon to look for a trail that
might run over the crest of the hill.
But there was no trail, neither was there a mountain climb such as she
remembered in her dreams. At breakfast, she told the dream, to the
intense amusement of every one, Tally included. Then the Indian guide
remarked, "No better sleep on iron bolt, nex' time!"
CHAPTER FOUR
GOING UP!
"I hope we can say good-by to the old wagon to-day," said the Captain,
after they were seated again, ready to resume the journey.
"You seem not to like our luxurious schooner?" laughed Mr. Gilroy.
"Luxurious! Had we but known what this ride would be like I venture to
say every scout would have chosen to walk from Denver," exclaimed Mrs.
Vernon.
"And here I've been condemning myself as being the only ingrate in the
party!" returned Mr. Gilroy. "I remember with what enthusiasm the
scouts hailed the suggestion of traveling _a la_ prairie schooner."
As the wagon came out from the screen of trees where they had camped
for the night, the scouts saw the vapors in the valley eddy about and
swiftly vanish in the penetrating gleams from the rising sun. Here and
there patches of vivid green lay revealed, but in another half hour
the sun would be strong enough, with the aid of a stiff breeze, to
dispel all the clinging mists of night into their native nothingness.
"Just as our earthly pains and sorrows go," remarked Mrs. Vernon.
"Yes, Verny, just like Julie's dream, eh? She woke up and could hardly
believe that she was here--safe and happy," added Joan.
The road was rough and the joggling was as bad as ever, but the scouts
were not so resigned as they had been the day before. Every little
while they asked, "_Now_ how far are we from Boulder?" for there they
would have surcease from such "durance vile" as this mode of travel
imposed upon them.
To distract their attention from physical miseries, Mr. Vernon asked a
question, knowing that Mr. Gilroy would instantly divine his intention
and follow it up.
"Gilroy, how do you explain the queer fact that the higher we go on
these grand heights, the more stunted we find the trees? One would
expect to find beautiful timber on top."
The scouts listened with interest, and Mr. Gilroy noted this and
consequently took the cue given him.
"Why, timber-line in the West, Vernon, means more than the end of the
forest growth. Most trees near the top of the peaks are stunted by the
cold, or are twisted by the gales, and become bent or crippled by the
fierce battles they have to wage against the elements. But they are
not vanquished--oh, no!
"These warriors of the forests seem to realize with a fine
intelligence how great is their task. They must protect the young that
grow on the sides further down the mountain; they must hold back the
destroying powers of the storm, that the _grand_ and _beautiful_
scions of this forest family be not injured. They have learned,
through many courageous engagements with Nature's fierce winters, that
the post appointed them in life can never offer them soft and gentle
treatment while there remains such work as theirs to do, work that
needs tried strength and brave endurance.
"I have never found a coward growing in the ranks of the
closely-linked, shoulder-to-shoulder front of trees that mark the
timber-line. Although they may not _seem_ to grow, materially, more
than from eight to twelve feet high, and though many look deformed by
the overwhelming conditions, so that they present strange shapes in
comparison with the erect tall giants down the mountainside, yet I
love to remember that in His perfect Creation, these same fighters
have won greatness and eternal beauty for their service to others.
"In most cases, you will find that the higher the altitude of the peak
and the wilder the winds, the closer grow the trees, as if to find
increase of strength in the one united front that they present to the
storms. These winter gales are so powerful that they tear at every
object offering resistance to their destructive force. Thus the limbs
growing on the outer side of the trees on timber-line are all torn
away, or twisted back upon the parent trunk.
"But there are times when even the most valiant defenders of the
forest are momentarily overpowered. There comes a blizzard; the gale
howls and shrieks as it tears back and forth for days at a stretch,
trying to force a passage through the defence line. And sometimes a
little soldier is rooted up with malignant fury, and used by the
merciless gale to batter at his companions. This generally proves
futile, however.
"It is not always in the wintertime that the most terrific blizzards
occur in the Rockies. In July, when all the country is pining for a
breeze, these peaks produce blizzards that surpass anything heard of
in winter, and these summer storms are the most destructive, as the
trees are green and full of tender tips, that are ruthlessly torn off
during the gale.
"Then, too, the summer months generally produce the awful snowslides
you hear about, that are quite common in the Rockies."
"Oh, I wish we could see one of them!" exclaimed Julie, impulsively.
"Child, you don't know what you are saying!" said Mr. Gilroy,
earnestly. "If you ever went through one, as I have, you'd never want
to experience another, I assure you."
"Oh, Gilly! Do tell us about it," cried the scouts.
And Mr. Vernon added, "Yes, Gilroy, do tell us the story."
"It was many years ago, while I was on a geological trip through the
Rockies. Tally and I were ready to start for a several days' outing on
the peaks when the man we lodged with said, 'You are going out at a
bad time. Some big slides have been reported recently.'
"I, like Julie here, said, 'I'd like the excitement of riding a
slide.'
"The rancher said I was locoed, but he went about his business after
that. So I took my snowshoes in case I met a slide and had to ride it.
"Tally and I were soon climbing the trail, and as we went higher and
higher, I felt pleasantly excited to see several small slides start
from distant peaks and ride ruthlessly over everything to gain a
resting-place.
"Then we both heard a rumble and stood looking about. We now beheld a
slide quite close at hand--on our own ridge but on the far side. It
coasted slowly at first, but gathered momentum as it went, until it
was flying downwards.
"It was about fifty feet wide and several hundred feet long, but it
cut a clean channel through the forest, carrying great trees, rocks,
and other objects on its crest. Before it had traveled five hundred
yards, it had gathered into its capacious maw tons of debris, besides
the vast blanket of snow it started out with. All this made a
resistless force that swept over other forest impedimenta, dragging
all along with its flood.