THE LOST RIVER
WHEN several more days had passed, and the boys found that they had
again lost track of the river in seeking to save time by making a
cut-off, Roger was very much downcast.
There was some reason for this, too, since it had really been his
fault; Dick thinking it best to stick to the river, while his cousin
argued that they would gain a whole day by saving the time spent in
following the winding course of the stream.
And so they had struck out, taking more chances than were perhaps
advisable under the circumstances. And now neither could say in which
direction they must look in order to once more come upon the river.
Dick did not attempt to chide his companion. On the contrary, he even
took a part of the blame on his own shoulders, and in speaking of the
mistake, if such it should prove to be, always used the words "_our_
blunder." He knew very well that Roger was suffering enough without
having "salt rubbed into his open cuts." And the chances were, no
matter how the experiment turned out, Roger after that would be slow to
insist on having his own way.
Dick went about it in a cool, matter-of-fact way. He consulted his
crude little chart, made up pretty much at a guess, for information
had come in a dozen roundabout ways, none of which were strictly
reliable. Then he took his bearings with relation to the sun, their
previous course, and some other things that seemed to have an intimate
connection with the case.
After that he laid out a new trail, and marked it on the map,
explaining to his admiring and now repentant companion just how he
believed they must head in order to once again reach the Big Muddy.
"And I feel so sure that we will strike it by keeping on toward the
north that we must let nothing turn us from that course," he ended,
with a ring to his voice that told of determination.
"What if we run on to an Indian village, because we are now in the
country of the Shoshones, you know?" Roger remarked.
"Then we'll just wait for night," replied the other, quietly, "and pass
the wigwams by as close as we dare; for I would not want to make too
wide a circuit. And now let us make a fresh start."
This had been on the previous day to the one on which we again find the
undaunted lads pushing directly into the north, bent on finding the
river again.
Once more had the character of the country changed. The prairie had
given place to rolling land, where grew stretches of trees. In the
distance they could even see low elevations that might be called hills.
Roger had been looking eagerly toward these, and hoping that they would
re-discover the Missouri among them. Now that the river was lost it
seemed to have additional value in the eyes of the two boys; and it
was certain that they would welcome the first glimpse of its swiftly
flowing waters with delight--at least Roger felt sure he would.
The sun was getting rather low in the heavens again, and once more
they would soon have to be looking for some place to pitch their camp;
but it was not so serious a matter when surrounded by a forest, where
wood was in abundance, and numerous chances for hiding a cooking fire
abounded.
Truth to tell, both boys always felt more at home when in the woods.
They had been accustomed to seeing trees all around them; and those
apparently endless level prairies, where not a stick of timber could
be seen as far as their eyes traveled, rather appalled them, and made
them feel almost helpless. One had to grow accustomed to these vast
solitudes, and the monotony of that waving sea of grass, before he
could feel at home.
"Keep your eyes well about you as we ride on, Roger," Dick warned, not
in a way to create alarm in the mind of his companion, but as though he
wished to remind him that their policy was always to be prepared for
emergencies, and never to be caught off their guard.
"You haven't seen any sign of Indians around, I hope?" asked Roger,
suspiciously.
"No, I'm glad to say not; but then there are sometimes other dangers
lurking in a wood like this. They have panthers out here as well as we
did down near our homes. And, while such a beast may never have set
eyes on white people before, I reckon he'd jump down at us just as
quick as if we were red boys, if it so happened that he was hungry."
"Yes, the panther is a sly beast, but when pressed for a meal he will
take chances every time," returned Roger. "You remember that one we
met in the timber on a winter's day, just as the snow-storm commenced
to gather. I saw him leave the limb just in the nick of time. I think
he gave a little snarl as he sprang; and if it hadn't been for that he
might have borne me to the ground. As it was I managed to duck like
a flash, so that he leaped right over me; and before he could swing
around after recovering, your rifle had spoken, and it was all up with
Mr. Panther."
"Yes, and cases are known when men have been attacked openly on the
trail by these gray woods terrors," Dick went on, as though the subject
possessed a certain fascination for him.
"The trouble is," Roger continued, "you never know just how to take one
of them. Sometimes a panther may seem to be the biggest coward going;
and another day the same beast wouldn't hesitate at attacking three
men. Some hunters say they get crazy fits, and, when one of these comes
on, the person who runs across a panther had better look out. But if I
see a 'painter,' as old Pat O'Mara used to call them, I'm ready to give
him the compliments of my gun, and without any palaver, too."
After that they lapsed into silence, each doubtless occupied with his
thoughts. Indeed, they had much pressing on their young minds about
this time, when the fate of their mission was still in serious doubt.
If it should fail, and all their long trip have been taken for nothing,
they did not really know how they should have the courage to turn back,
and retrace all these weary hundreds of miles down the river.
And whenever Roger became silent it could be taken for granted that
he was allowing his thoughts to roam in a certain direction; in
imagination picturing the happy day when he and his cousin would reach
the home settlement, bringing with them, duly signed and witnessed, the
precious document that was to bring such happiness to their loved ones.
The horses plodded on, with Dick keeping a guiding hand on his bridle,
and occasionally glancing to the right, and to the left. Then he would
look upward, so as to get his bearings from the position of the
westering sun, which was of course on their left now, and could only be
seen now and then, when there came a rift in the timber.
They would soon be compelled to pick out a camp site, for the day had
almost reached its close. Roger was sighing because they had failed to
reach the river, as he had fondly hoped would be the case at the time
they started out that morning. And he was mentally chiding himself
for the twentieth time that day, on account of having insisted on the
experiment of saving time by taking a "cut-off." No matter what the
temptation might be, he was determined never again to try and influence
Dick when the other thought differently from him. Dick was a born
guide. He always figured things out accurately, and was seldom if ever
known to go amiss when leading the expedition out of trouble; whereas
he, Roger, was a bungler and only fit to tag behind, ready to assist.
Neither of the boys had spoken a word for nearly ten minutes. Roger was
waiting to hear his comrade say that they had better pull up, and stop
for the night. Much as he wished to halt, and prepare supper, for he
was really hungry, he would not mention the fact to Dick, being too
proud to exhibit any weakness. And the memory of how he had brought
about all this trouble hung like a heavy burden upon Roger's mind just
then.
Around them the silence of the forest was broken only by the chattering
of little ground squirrels, known to-day as chipmunks; or it might
be the scolding of the hasty tempered blue jay in the branches of a
cottonwood tree.
When, therefore, a sound of an entirely different nature struck upon
the ears of the boys, they were greatly startled. It was almost a
shriek, and both were of the impression that it was a woman's voice.
Their horses began to prance, as though the unusual noise had given
them a start, or else from some other unseen cause.
These boys of the border had always been brought up to be courteous to
the other sex. They would go far out of their way to render aid to a
woman or child in distress. And therefore, when they heard what seemed
to them to be a cry of terror, and apparently in a woman's voice, the
first thought of both was to dig their heels into the sides of their
horses, and urge the beasts forward in the direction whence the sound
seemed to come.
It struck them as strange how unwilling the animals seemed to be to
advance; and this fact caused Dick to entertain suspicions. Either
Indians were about, and the intelligent beasts knew it, or else some
sort of terrible wild animal lurked among the thickets close by, and
had been scented by the horses.
But, under the urging of their masters, even the horses had to give
way, though it was evident that they made the advance with reluctance.
And in this fashion, then, did they break through the screen of bushes,
so that they stood upon the border of what seemed a forest glade.
What they discovered there was a picture neither of the lads would ever
forget.
An old Indian squaw was brandishing a heavy billet of wood, which she
had evidently hastily snatched up. Cowering under her protecting arm
was a little girl of perhaps seven years of age--a pretty child, though
undoubtedly also an Indian.
And crouching on the limb of a nearby tree, lashing its tail to and
fro, as it worked itself up into a rage in order to launch forth upon
its intended victims, was the largest gray panther either of the boys
had ever seen.
It had come upon the squaw and her helpless charge suddenly, and, with
the craftiness of its kind, was holding back its final spring, just as
a domestic cat will allow a mouse to crawl away before pouncing on it.
At any second now the terrible beast might launch itself out, and crush
the brave old squaw under its weight.
It was impulsive Roger, always as quick as lightning to act, who was
the first to hurl himself into action.