A HURRIED FLIGHT.
ALTHOUGH George and Victor Shelton parted for the time from Deerfoot
with regret, it cannot be said that either felt any misgiving. There
could be no doubt of the Shawanoe’s ability to track them all the way to
the Pacific if necessary, for the trail would be plain except when they
took to the water, which was not likely to be for a long time to come.
Moreover, Mul-tal-la had said that little was to be feared from the
Indians of the country through which they must make their way. Had the
boys been alone danger might threaten, for most of the hunters and
trappers who penetrated those vast solitudes looked upon and treated the
red men as their enemies, and naturally were thus looked upon and
treated in their turn.
The Blackfoot and his companion met with no trouble of this nature on
their eastward journey. They were always able to make clear their
meaning by signs, and the fact that the two belonged to the same race
with the different tribes was a sufficient passport. It seemed
reasonable, therefore, to believe that the presence of Mul-tal-la gave
all the protection that could be needed.
The Blackfoot took Deerfoot’s place as leader, the brothers riding a
little to the rear, with Zigzag plodding in his usual indifferent
fashion. Just now the chief concern of the boys was as to how they were
to obtain a meal, for the thought of going to sleep without food was
intolerable.
To the left, in the direction of the foothills, they descried a
half-dozen elk browsing; but the game were as timid as antelopes,
without their fatal defect of overwhelming curiosity, and they made off
long before our friends could get within range. Several miles to the
eastward a dark undulating mass which covered hundreds of acres showed
where another vast herd of bison were moving southward. Victor was
disposed to ask Mul-tal-la to change their course so as to get a shot at
one of the animals, but his brother urged him to wait in the hope of a
better chance to bring down something edible.
An hour later this chance presented itself. Three graceful antelopes
came in sight as the horsemen rode over an elevation. They were cropping
the grass on the slope of a hill nearly a half-mile distant. George
brought his glass to his eye and saw that the alert creatures had
already caught sight of them. They were standing with heads erect and
staring at the strangers, ready to dash off like the wind on the first
demonstration or further move toward them.
“There’s our supper!” exclaimed Victor, as the three halted, for the
Blackfoot was also interested in the sight. “I know they aren’t the best
food in the world, but I’m too hungry to be particular. Mul-tal-la, how
are we to manage it?”
“I will let my brother shoot one of them,” replied the Blackfoot, who,
as you know, had caught Deerfoot’s manner of speech.
“That suits me. George, you don’t mind. It will be your turn next time.”
“I’m satisfied,” returned his brother; “but you must remember and not
let your impatience run away with you. Keep cool or we shall have to go
without supper.”
“Don’t fear for me,” remarked the ardent Victor, who slipped out of the
saddle and set off without delay; “I know what’s at stake.”
Had he gone directly toward the antelopes they would have been off on
the instant. Instead, he went back over the ridge just crossed, thus
interposing that screen between him and the animals. By following this
he could approach within a fourth of a mile of the game, and from that
moment the utmost caution and skill would be necessary. His brother and
the Blackfoot withdrew so as to occupy a position on the crest of the
elevation, where they could observe the actions of Victor from the
beginning and at the same time keep an eye upon the antelopes
themselves.
The latter fixed their attention upon the point where the horsemen had
first come into view, hesitating whether to break away in swift flight
or to wait until they could gratify their resistless curiosity. George
Shelton and Mul-tal-la had dismounted, and lying down in the grass, took
care not to show themselves, through fear of alarming the game, for, if
the antelopes should make off, slight chance of securing a meal would
remain.
Meanwhile Victor was stealing along the ridge until, as he judged, he
had reached a point nearly opposite the animals, who were a furlong
distant. Then he crept up the elevation, whose crest fortunately was
crowned with the same exuberant growth of grass that grew in the valley
beyond.
So painstaking was he that his friends lost sight of him and did not
know when he was at the crest of the elevation until the antelopes
showed by their excitement that they had detected him. They had resumed
cropping the grass, when all three abruptly raised their heads and
dashed off at the height of their astonishing speed. A moment later
Victor was seen running down the slope until a little beyond the base,
when he dropped on his face.
Immediately after, while his body was screened from sight, he raised the
ramrod of his rifle, with his cap on the upper end. The lower point was
pushed down into the earth so that unaided it supported the headgear. He
had improved on the method of the Blackfoot.
At first it looked as if this artifice had come too late, for the
antelopes continued running. When first seen they were in a valley-like
depression with a width of a third of a mile. They made a pretty picture
as they skimmed up the opposite slope with their bodies showing in
relief against the green background.
The cap, however, on top of the ramrod was so conspicuous that they were
not long in discovering it. The three stopped, turned sideways and stood
a few minutes gazing intently at the strange object. Then all three
broke into a gentle trot toward it, keeping side by side most of the
way. One of the trio had more sense or possibly more timidity than his
companions, for he abruptly stopped and refused to go any farther.
Strangely enough, the others showed no hesitation until within a hundred
yards of where the boy, stretched out in the grass, was waiting for the
moment when he could make his aim sure.
“I wonder if they ain’t twins like me and George,” was the whimsical
fancy of the lad, as he watched the similarity of action on the part of
the two antelopes. They had halted at precisely the same second, and now
moved forward again, both stepping high and advancing with a curious
hesitation which indicated the mental struggle between fear and
curiosity.
One turned to the left and ran nimbly in a circle of several rods
diameter, coming around and facing the ramrod and cap again, as if
hypnotized. At the same moment the other described a similar circle to
the right, returning like his companion, so that the two stood side by
side, with heads raised, and stepped off again, as if keeping time with
the signals of some one who had trained them to the performance.
Victor was impatient, but he had too much prudence to throw away the
opportunity that he knew would come to him in a few minutes. When both
animals were nigh enough for him to be sure of his aim he still
hesitated, with gun pointed, hammer raised and finger on the trigger. He
was wondering how much nearer they would approach. Surely, when they
caught sight of him in the grass, their curiosity would vanish, and they
would dash off in the very extremity of terror. He lay low and waited.
His plan was to hold his fire until the discovery should burst upon the
antelopes and they wheeled to flee. This turning would give him his best
chance, and he intended to shoot at the crisis of the change of
direction.
One of the creatures paused, as if he had observed something that warned
him to halt. His companion took three steps more and then halted, with
head high in air and one foot lifted and poised like a pointer dog.
It was at this juncture that Victor Shelton bore hard on the trigger,
for he dared wait no longer, though he had decided a moment before to
fire as the animals wheeled.
To his dismay the hammer of his rifle did not descend. He pressed
harder, but the iron claw which grasped the flint remained immovable.
Then the truth flashed upon him. In his excitement he had only
half-cocked his gun. There should have been three clicks when he drew
back the hammer, but there were only two. In that position it would not
obey the trigger, no matter how hard the pressure. It must be drawn to a
full cock.
Without shifting his posture, he raised his thumb from the trigger
guard, so that it passed over the hammer, and then pulled it back as far
as it would go. It was at full cock, but in reaching that point it
emitted a single click.
Faint as was the sound, it was heard by the two antelopes fully fifty
yards away, and they whirled to dash off. At the instant that their
sides were toward him, Victor discharged his gun and sent the bullet
straight and true. One antelope kept on running, his head flung back,
while he sped across the valley like a swallow on the wing. The one that
had been smitten flirted back again and then came on a full run straight
for the spot in the grass from which the fatal missile had been fired,
as if determined to slay his foe before his own strength failed him.
“Great Cæsar!” exclaimed the scared Victor; “I didn’t know an antelope
was that sort of beast. I’ve got to get out of here mighty quick!”
There was no time to reload his weapon. Never did he leap to his feet
and make off at greater speed than when he saw the antelope bearing down
upon him, and it may be added that never did he run so fast as in going
up the slope and down the other side, and then in a line for his
companions.
At such critical moments a boy does not consider his duty done unless he
does all he can in the way of yelling. The shouts that Victor Shelton
sent resounding over the surrounding country must have reached several
miles. He did not look behind him, for that would have interfered to a
fractional extent with his speed, but ran with might and main, marking
each leap by a tremendous outcry.
He expected with every breath to feel the antelope’s razor-like hoofs
carve their way downward into his shoulders. That several minutes passed
without such carving he accepted as proof that he was making as good
time as his furious pursuer. If this was gratifying it was also
surprising, for Victor had never been noted for his fleetness of foot,
and he knew something of the fleetness of the antelope. He concluded
that there was no telling what a boy of his age can accomplish in the
way of running until the actual necessity for it arises.
All this time Victor did not forget to yell. But after awhile the
expenditure of so much breath began to affect his strength. So he closed
his mouth and gave his whole attention to getting over the ground in the
best possible time.
Because of this cessation of his outcries he became aware that his
brother was also shouting. Listening carefully, Victor was finally able
to catch his words:
“What are you running for?”
“That’s a pretty question!” he reflected, “when he can see for himself
that the antelope is determined to have my life!”
It occurred to the fugitive to look around and see how far he was
leaving his fearful enemy behind. He was not in sight. He had not even
come over the ridge, but had fallen before taking more than a dozen
steps in the direction of the lad. This spurt was a blind, aimless
flight, its direction being involuntary. The antelope would not have
dared to attack the boy any more than it would have dared to assail a
grizzly bear.
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