LOST IN THE FOREST.
"I must get away from them!"
This was the one thought which surged through Joe Moore's brain as he
dashed from the cave in the mountain. He felt that if he was captured it
would go hard with him. Did the desperadoes learn that he had overheard
their conversation, they might make his very life pay the forfeit.
Forward he pitched, into the rain and the inky darkness, not knowing in
what direction and just then caring but little. His one idea was to put
distance between himself and his pursuers.
"Stop!" he heard the men call, and heard the clicking of a pistol
hammer. Then he reached some brushwood, and, crouching low, continued to
move on. No shot came, for the reason that the desperadoes could not
locate him with certainty.
At length Joe reached a clump of trees. Had he not had his hands before
him he might have run into them head first. He glided around them, and
then continued onward, down a slope leading into a broad belt of timber.
Still with his hands before him, he advanced through the undergrowth and
between the stately trees for a distance of several hundred feet.
He was now exhausted with running and with fighting the entangling
vines, and had to halt to catch his breath. As he came to a stop he
listened attentively, to learn if the men were following, but the
downpour of rain drowned out every other sound.
Soaked to the skin, hatless, and still short of breath, he went on once
more, feeling that he was not yet far enough from the cave for safety.
He tried to steer a course in the direction of the cave where he had
left Darry and the old scout, but whether he was successful or not he
could not tell.
A hundred yards further and Joe came to another slope, covered with
prairie grass. Down this he rolled in the darkness, to bring up in more
brush below. Then he climbed out of the hollow at the opposite side,
and, reaching a large fallen tree, sat down to rest and think over his
situation. The tree lay partly under one with wide-spreading branches,
so the boy was somewhat sheltered from the storm.
It must be confessed that Joe's heart sank within him as he reviewed the
situation. Where he was he could not tell, nor could he form any
definite plan for rejoining his cousin and old Benson. More than this,
he was afraid that the desperadoes might come up at any minute and
pounce upon him.
But as the minutes slipped by, and he neither saw nor heard anything of
those in pursuit, he grew easier. Evidently they had given up the chase.
"I hope they have," was what he thought. "I never want to get so close
to them again. They are a hard crowd, if ever there was one. If I can
get to the fort and tell Colonel Fairfield of what I've heard, I'll be
doing a good thing."
An hour went by slowly, and then Joe looked around to find some means of
making himself comfortable for the balance of the night, knowing it
would be useless to pursue his course through the forest in the
darkness.
"This is camping out with a vengeance!" he muttered grimly. "Darry ought
to be along; I guess he'd soon get enough of it. I'll be lucky if I
don't fall in with some savage animal."
The thought of wild beasts gave him another shiver, and he concluded to
climb into a nearby tree, which was low-drooping and had a spot where
several branches made a sort of platform. He was soon up in a
comparatively dry place, and here he fell asleep, being too tired to
hold his eyes open longer.
When Joe awoke the storm had cleared away and the sun was struggling
through the scattering clouds. The forest still dripped with the rain,
and with this dripping were mingled the songs of the birds and the hum
of insects.
Stiff from the wet, he climbed slowly to the ground and looked around.
On every side were the tall trees and the dense undergrowth, shutting
off the distant view of everything but a towering mountain to the
westward. This was the mountain he and the others had been ascending
when the storm had overtaken them.
"I suppose I may as well head in that direction," he mused. "If I can
strike the trail that will be something. But I'll have to keep my eyes
open, or I may fall into the hands of that Gilroy gang."
He was hungry, but there were no means at hand with which to satisfy the
cravings of his stomach, and so he had to move forward without eating.
Getting into the forest had been difficult, but getting out was even
more of a task. The underbrush at certain points was positively
impassable, and he had to make long detours, which took time and tired
him greatly. At noon he was still in the forest, and the mountain
seemed as far off as ever.
"I am lost, that is all there is to it!" he burst out with a groan. "I
am lost, and perhaps I'll never get out!"
The sun shone down directly on his head, and even though still wet he
was glad enough to seek the shelter the stately trees afforded. Here and
there he saw some berries of various hues, but they were strange to him,
and he did not dare touch them for fear of being poisoned.
Toward the middle of the afternoon he reached a tiny brook, flowing
between the rocks, and here he again rested. He reached the conclusion
that the brook came down from the mountain side and by following it up
he must sooner or later run across the lost trail.
"I'll follow it, anyway," he told himself, and, hungry and footsore, set
out along the water-course.
Here the walking was somewhat better, for he had no brushwood and vines
to tear aside. The brook was clear, and he often saw trout and other
fish darting hither and thither. This gave him an idea, and, picking
some berries he had seen, he dropped them in. At once some of the fish
darted forward and swallowed the berries.
"Hurrah, a good bait!" he cried, and quickly made himself a line out of
threads from his clothing. To this he attached a pin bent into shape
with infinite care. Then he baited with the berries, and dropped the
line in over a rock near a cottonwood.
Hardly had his bait touched the water when a good-sized fish seized it,
and in a twinkling he had his catch landed. His heart gave a bound, for
here was the material for at least one square meal.
"I'll cook it right away," he told himself, after feeling to see if he
had any matches. His hunger was beginning to make him desperate, and he
did not much care even if the desperadoes did see his camp-fire.
With some trouble he got together a few sticks of wood and some moss
which the sunshine had dried out, and soon he had a respectable blaze
between two rocks. With his jackknife he cleaned the fish as best he
could, and then broiled it on a green twig. When done the meat was
slightly burnt on one side and underdone on the other, but to the
half-famished lad nothing had ever tasted sweeter, and he continued to
eat until the whole fish was gone.
"Now I feel like myself," he muttered, after washing down the repast
with a drink from the brook. "On a pinch that meal ought to last me
until to-morrow noon, and surely I ought to find my way back to the
others by that time."
With renewed energy he continued his tramp along the brook, often wading
in the water when the brushwood on either side was extra thick. He kept
his eyes and ears on the alert, but no human being came into sight, and
presently a great feeling of loneliness swept over him.
"I'm alone," he whispered to himself. "Alone! I must say I don't like it
much," and he hurried on faster than ever.
The sun was shining over the distant mountain when he reached a bend in
the brook and came out upon a rocky trail which crossed the water-course
at a right angle. As he looked at the trail he was tempted to shout with
joy.
"The place we crossed yesterday morning!" he exclaimed. "There is the
very spot where we got a drink and watered the horses. Now I ought not
to have such a hard time finding the cave."
He got down and examined the trail closely, hoping to discover some
hoofmarks. But the heavy rain had washed everything clean. Nevertheless,
he felt certain that he was right, and hurried along as fast as his
tired limbs permitted.
Leaving the brook, the trail wound in and out along a series of rocks
and then through some heavy brushwood and along the edge of a jagged
cliff. The cliff was overgrown with heavy vines, which hung down and
brushed Joe's head as he passed.
"I can't be more than three or four miles from the cave," thought the
boy. "And if I hurry----"
He stopped short, and then gave a cry of terror, and with good reason.
He had seen the vines ahead suddenly part, and now there came to view
the shaggy head of a black bear. As soon as the beast caught sight of
the boy he leaped to the trail and advanced upon him.