DAVE FARRELL. BRUIN SCOUTING.
The young man who had entered was the _beau ideal_ of a Western scout,
and Rafe was obliged to confess that he would have made a hard customer
to meet in the midst of a border struggle. About five feet and ten
inches in hight, straight as a cedar, with curling brown hair, and eyes
of the same color, a brown but well-cut face, firm lips and white teeth;
dressed as a leader of scouts in the neat fringed hunting-shirt belted
at the waist, high horseman’s boots and sombrero; and armed with the
rifle, two first-class revolvers and a heavy knife. He carried a bundle
in one hand which he dropped to meet the extended hands of Myrtle, and
stood there with a smile upon his handsome face.
“Rafe Norris,” said Old Pegs, “this hyar chap is Dave Farrell, a real
out and outer, at present captain of a trapping brigade of the
North-west Company. Ef you meet any one thet asks you, be keerful to
tell ’em thet Old Pegs sez he’s a roarer! You kin realize money on that,
every time.”
Dave Farrell turned to acknowledge the introduction with a peculiar look
upon his face.
“It seems to me, although I may be wrong—that I have seen you before.”
“I don’t remember, Captain Farrell,” replied Rafe, coolly. “Still, I’ve
been in many places, and we might have met without recollecting it.”
“I think it was in Fort Garry, in the year ’53.”
“Scarcely; I have not been in that country for nearly four years.”
“We are all liable to mistakes,” said Dave; “but of course you have some
kind of business up this way?”
“Of course.”
“Do you object to mentioning _what_ business?”
“I am not in a position to give you any information upon the subject
just now as I do not recognize your authority. I have been chased by
Indians and escaped by means of your friend here, who has offered me a
shelter and has not insulted me by asking impertinent questions.”
“Impertinent!” said Dave, slowly, turning his eyes full upon the face of
the speaker. “I said that I would like to know your business, having
stated mine.”
“And I tell you that I am not in a condition to gratify your curiosity
in the least.”
“Let’s have no quarreling hyar, boys,” said Old Pegs. “Mr. Norris goes
away to-morrer to find his party, and thet’s the end of it. Let’s treat
him like a gentleman while he stays.”
“I have no more to say at present,” said Dave. “If I had thought my
simple question would be regarded as an insult I should not have asked
it.”
“You are excused,” said Rafe, coolly, “but I don’t allow any man to
interfere with my affairs.”
Dave said no more, but dropping upon one knee began to undo the bundle
which he had dropped, and Myrtle clapped her hands joyfully as he
displayed a number of well-selected books and literary papers. The two
were soon occupied over them to the utter exclusion of the rest, for the
efforts of Rafe Norris to take part in the business were put aside with
an ease which showed that Dave considered himself master of the
situation.
“Oh, let up, Dave,” said Old Pegs; “drop them cussid books and talk to
us. What did you hear new at the fort?”
“I heard that the Hudson Bay are going to trap on our side this year, in
spite of our men.”
“Hey! Now it looks like our boys will let ’em, don’t it?”
“They are not the kind of men easily trodden underfoot, as you know
well,” replied Dave, grimly. “I’ve fought the Hudson Bay for ten years
and I’m not going to be driven out of my way by them now.”
“I’ve heard that the Hudson Bay was very strong this year in the number
of their men,” said Rafe Norris.
“Scissors!” roared Old Pegs. “You don’t ’spose we keer fur thet, do you?
Hark; what’s thet?”
They heard a fierce growl from the bear, and then a cry of mortal agony.
The three men grasped their weapons, and darting away in the direction
of the sound, found the bear locked in a close grapple with an Indian,
while another was running rapidly across the opening.
“Spies!” cried Old Pegs, pointing after the flying man. “Stop him,
Dave!”
Dave Farrell brought his rifle to his shoulder, and fired, apparently
without aim. The flying savage paused suddenly, made a leap into the air
and fell upon his face.
“Euchered!” said Old Pegs, quietly. “I don’t want no Injins in my camp,
you bet! Let’s look arter this chap Bruin hez harnessed.”
The teeth of the bear were fastened in the shoulder of the Indian with
whom he struggled, and his claws were tearing him limb from limb. Old
Pegs caught the brute by the neck, and by the exercise of all his
muscular power, coupled with a loud command, managed to separate the
two, and the Indian, a horrible object to look at, sunk back upon the
sod, bleeding at every vein.
Old Pegs stooped to raise him, but at this moment his eyes opened and
rested upon the face of Rafe Norris, who had followed the rest. A look
of recognition passed over his face, and he seemed about to speak, when
Norris drew a pistol and shot him through the heart as coolly as if he
had been a dying brute.
“It is better to put him out of his misery,” he said, quietly; “and, as
you say, it won’t do to have spies about us.”
“That was a coward shot,” cried Dave, angrily. “How dare you kill a
wounded man before us?”
“My young friend,” replied Rafe, in his smooth tone, “don’t let us make
any mistakes or have a quarrel out here, for I am quick on the trigger
and _might_ shoot.”
“Our boys don’t scare very easy,” was the answer, “and are always ready
to take and give. If you are inclined that way, I don’t know but it is
just as well to humor you.”
“Hold on, boys,” cried Old Pegs. “I take a hand in this game, myself.
The fust man that lifts a weepen hez got ter stand a shot from me.”
“I will not be bullied by any man alive,” cried Rafe Norris. “If I shot
this savage, it was only to put him out of pain, for any man can see
that he would have been dead in five minutes.”
“Mout be you are right, Rafe,” replied Old Pegs; “but, why didn’t you
let him die the nat’ral way? It almost seemed to me thet the cuss know’d
you, and was going ter speak.”
“Pshaw; what will you suspect next, I wonder? I never saw the fellow in
my life.”
“I ain’t going to conterdict you, Rafe, acause it won’t pay, ez I hain’t
got no proof. Howsumever, thar lies the critter with a bullet in the
heart, and he’s rubbed out, easy. But, what I want ter know is this:
what is this yer _Modoc Sioux_ doing in this kentry?”
“Modoc Sioux!” cried Dave, looking more closely at the dead savage. “You
are right, old man, and it is a surprise to see a party of that tribe in
the heart of the Blackfoot country.”
Rafe Norris started; an angry look came into his face, for he thought he
saw suspicion in the eyes of the two men. That branch of the great Sioux
nation known as the Modoc Sioux were notorious for their hostility to
the whites, and their country was far away.
“Let’s look at the other chap,” said Old Pegs. “This hyar gets me, it
does; it gets me dead ter rights.”
They hurried to the side of the Indian who had been so suddenly stricken
by the fatal bullet of Dave Farrell, and turned him over. The ball had
entered the back just below the left shoulder, and passed through his
heart, so that his death was instantaneous. His face was calm and
peaceful, and both the mountainmen started as they recognized
“Half-breed Jack,” a man who was known far and wide as one of most
trusted employes of the Hudson Bay Company—a villain who was capable of
any crime.
“Now this begins to look like business,” said Dave. “Old Pegs, you and I
must talk this matter over alone.”
“Why alone, my mountain hero?” demanded Rafe, in a bantering tone. “Am I
to understand that you do not consider me a trustworthy person?”
“We never trust strangers with our business,” replied Dave. “You do not
seem in the least surprised to see Half-breed Jack lying here.”
“Half-breed Jack, eh? And who, pray, is Half-breed Jack?”
“If you don’t know now, you never will,” was the ambiguous reply. “Here,
old man, let’s you and I have a talk.”
“I see that you are disposed to set my friends against me,” said Rafe,
angrily. “Beware, young man. I am one who never forgets or forgives an
injury, and one day I may take occasion to remind you of this one.”
“All right; will you be kind enough to leave us alone now?”
Rafe stood for full two minutes looking with a dark scowl into the face
of the young captain of the “Trapping Brigade,” and then, turning on his
heel, he walked toward the cabin, his heart torn by contending passions.
Old Pegs and Dave remained over the body of the half-breed, looking very
ill at ease.
“This man is not to be trusted,” said Dave, quickly. “I can not place
him, but I am certain that I have seen him under circumstances of
peculiar significance. I can not for my life remember any thing except
the place, and that was Fort Garry.”
“He mout hev been thar jest ez you were, Dave. Beavers and bufflers! you
don’t go back on a man acause he’s bin in Fort Garry, does you?”
“I’ll wager my existence that he is a bad man,” replied Dave, hotly. “He
has a nasty drop in his eye that I don’t like, and one day you will find
that I am right. Why should the Modoc Sioux be here? Don’t you know that
no man on earth has as much influence among them as Half-breed Jack?”
“Thet don’t hurt Rafe Norris, my boy.”
“But that Indian he killed knew him, I am almost willing to swear; and,
God forgive me if I do him wrong, but I think he killed him fearing that
the Sioux might say something to betray him.”
“I had the same thort in my mind, Dave, I allow,” said Old Pegs. “Now,
what do you perpose to do?”
“I’m going to put a spy on him when he leaves this place that will trail
him through to Oregon but he’ll find out who he is.”
“Agreed, Dave; but don’t rile up at the man acause he’s taken a fancy
ter my little gal. I see whar the harniss is tight onto you, but,
buttermilk and molasses! you don’t think I’d give my gal ter sech ez
him!”
“It would have been better if you had let the Indians have their way
anyhow. You’ve broken with Whirlwind, a man who is capable of doing you
a great deal of harm, for the sake of a man you don’t know.”
“Whirlwind never see’d me at all, Dave. But, look yer; I never thort I’d
hear Dave Farrell tork in thet way abowt saving a feller white man’s
life.”
“I was wrong, and I beg your pardon,” said Dave. “Perhaps I am
unreasonably jealous, but I thought that Myrtle looked with some favor
upon him. If I thought so—”
“You’d raise Kain, wouldn’t you? Now don’t be an idjiot, Dave, acause I
kain’t stand it. Let’s plant these chunks of kussidness som’ers, and git
’em out of the way.”
It did not take long by means of a shovel which Old Pegs brought out of
the copse, to dig a shallow grave, in which they laid the two Indians,
piling a heap of stones upon the bodies to guard them from the wolves.
This done, they went back to the cabin, where they found Myrtle and Rafe
Norris seated rather close together, while he was explaining a book
which Dave had brought. If the young captain had a fault it was
jealousy, and the blood started into his face as he noted the position
of the pair. Deeply interested as she was in the explanation, in her
eager desire for knowledge, Myrtle did not look up as they came in, and
even her father looked a little vexed, for he did not like to see her
becoming interested in Rafe Norris.
“Oh, Dave!” she cried, looking up at last. “You would be interested in
the account which Mr. Norris is giving of the Aleutian Islands. He was
there on a voyage not long ago.”
“I fear Mr. Farrell does not appreciate my poor endeavors to entertain
you, Miss Myrtle,” said Rafe, who interpreted rightly the expression of
David Farrell’s face. “But, if you have no objections, we will go on.”
“I reckon we’d better postpone the study, jest now,” said Old Pegs.
“Dave hez a good ’eal to tell you about his visit to civilization,
Myrtle.”
“By no means,” replied Dave, taking up his weapons. “While Miss Myrtle
is so pleasantly engaged, I can not find it in my heart to interfere.”
With these words he hurried out of the cabin before Myrtle could stop
him, and Old Pegs started up to follow. When he reached the door, Dave
was half-way across the opening, moving on at the long, swinging pace
into which a man insensibly falls, who is used to long marches over the
prairie. The old hunter hurried after him, calling him by name.
“Let him go, the jealous boor,” said Rafe, quickly. “We can dispense
with his company easily enough.”
“Mr. Norris,” said Myrtle, flushing, “you forget yourself when you call
my friends hard names. I am very sorry for what has happened, for no one
can be better, braver or more true hearted than the man you call a
boor.”
“I beg your pardon,” said Norris in a tone of contrition. “The word
slipped out before I had time to think, for of course it would be
ungentlemanly in me to thus stigmatize a friend of yours. But, he is
something of a dog in the manger, and seems to arrogate to himself the
right to your society, to the complete exclusion of men as good as
himself. Let us go back to our book.”
“I am tired of it now,” she replied, pushing it aside. “Let me alone,
sir; how dare you touch my hand.”
“Unintentional, upon my honor, Miss Myrtle. Surely you do not propose to
follow our sulky young friend and beg him to come back?”
“I ought to do so, but I fear that I am not brave enough, sir. All that
I am, as far as education goes, he made me. He has ridden many miles
through a hostile country to bring me these books, and now I have driven
him away when night is coming on.”
“Let me replace him,” he said. “Such beauty as yours need not go
begging, and you will do well to trust me; better than you think, if you
knew all.”
She brushed by him angrily, and made for the door, but he caught her by
the wrist to detain her.
“Release me, sir!” she cried, the blood mounting into her cheek. “You
insult me.”
“I think I am going mad indeed,” he replied in a hoarse, strained voice,
dropping her hand. “I can not bear to have you leave me for his sake. I
never have yielded so completely to woman’s witchery in an hour, and I
am thus bold in speaking to you, because I may never have the
opportunity. I love you as well as if I had known you for years, and you
must listen to me.”
“You are perfectly in the right, Mr. Norris, in saying that you are mad,
for nothing else could prompt you to speak in this manner. Let me hear
no more of it—I beg.”
“I do not ask you to love me, now,” he replied earnestly. “Give me a
chance; let me show you what I will do for the woman I love; that is all
I ask.”
“I shall not notice this foolishness upon your part, by telling my
father what you have said, sir, for I would not answer for what he would
do. But, let me hear no more of it, I beg you. Hush; father is coming
back.”
He sunk back on a stool, his face absolutely ghastly with intense
passion, as the door was flung open and Old Pegs hurried in alone.
“Don’t say any thing to me, Myrtle, fur I ain’t in good humer,” he said
in an almost angry tone. “I never thought you a flirt before, but ef you
drive away Dave Farrell, you drive away the best man in the mount’ins,
that’s all I’ve got to say.”
“Has he gone?” she said anxiously.
“He’s out thar in the pass. And stranger, I warn you to keep out of his
way, because he ain’t in a heavenly temper. Hark!”
Swift steps were heard, the door was flung open, and Dave rushed into
the room, pale and nearly breathless with a long arrow sticking in his
shoulder. “Indians!” he gasped. “Get Myrtle out of the way, quick!”