HOT ON THE TRAIL
It was a happy meeting for the two chums after the exciting events that
each had experienced. But it was rather sad, all the same; for even in
their joy at finding how both had come through their trials with but
little damage, they could not but regret the tragic end to poor Red Fox.
"He was a high-tempered chap," said Arnold, when he had listened to his
friend's story. "All the same, he must have had some good in him, since
he was so completely changed at the end."
"He seemed sorry enough," Alf rejoined. "And I must say that I feel
wretchedly sorry about the whole thing. In a way it was my fault--making
the remarks that I did. It never occurred to me that he would understand
a word----"
"As apparently he did. However, it can't be helped now. No doubt he had
some evil purpose all along, or he wouldn't have come to us with that
lie about being sent by your father and mine."
"At the same time it has taught me a lesson," said Alf. "I guess I'll
keep my opinions to myself next time, when they are so uncomplimentary."
"Just as well," Bob agreed seriously. Then, turning to the dead Indian:
"We've got to lay that poor redskin to rest. I wonder how we are to
manage it!"
"We can't dig----"
"And we can't leave the body uncovered. The wolves would work mischief
in no time."
"How would it be if we were to lay him in that little hollow and cover
him with big stones?" suggested Holden. "There are plenty of boulders
about, and we could easily cover him with branches first, with stones on
the top, to keep off the animals."
"Right," Bob said; and together the lads gently raised the Indian's body
and placed it in a little flower-scented hollow that, after all, was a
fitting bed to receive the royal dead--quite as fitting as a dark pit.
Then they cast maple branches over it, and carried boulders until a
substantial mound was raised.
And when all was completed as well as they were able to do it,
instinctively both lads knelt beside the grave and prayed for a few
minutes in silence. And the birds overhead sang their hymns to unite in
the service--happy songs of gladness they sang, that seemed to convey to
the boys' hearts the grand lesson of all funeral services--that death is
not all sadness, for we know of the joy that follows.
There was nothing more to be done now but to return to camp. Mackintosh
had probably returned by this time, and he or Haggis would be able to
guide to the Dacotah village on the urgent errand. So the broncho was
caught. It had never wandered far after the recovery from its fright,
which was probably due to the sudden appearance of a wolf in the scrub;
and before long the chums were on the home trail, taking it in turn to
ride the horse.
Camp was reached about noon, and the boys were greeted at the tent by
the Scot.
"Where in the world have you two laddies been?" he immediately
questioned. "Here's Haggis and me (to say no' a word about Bannock)
returned at breakfast-time to find no' a single body at the camp. No'
that time has been wasted, for we would have rested till dinner in any
case. But it's foolish tiring yoursels like this when there's hard work
before you. Pleasure is all very well----"
"We've been on no pleasure trip," interrupted Alf, with a sad smile. "It
has been anything but pleasure to Arnold and me."
Thereupon Holden immediately launched into the story of his adventure
and his chum's--a tale that was listened to with silent surprise both by
Mackintosh and the half-breed, who had come out from the tent and stood
attentively apart.
"Well, well," the Scotsman commented at the close, "these are stirring
times for you boys. There's no' a bit o' doot aboot that." Then he added
seriously: "But I'm thinking we'll no' be able to wait here ower long.
We must set oot at once. I ken something o' this Indian legend o'
water-spirits, and I ken something o' Indian ways as well. There's evil
things that will be doing if we canna stop them."
"Did you find out anything while you were away with Haggis?" questioned
Bob.
"A bit. We found the tracks o' boots as well as moccasins, and we
followed far enough to learn that they had gone to the Dacotah village.
Then we came back to fetch you laddies. And I found four grand specimens
for my collection! Real fine they are--such as will make my brither
entomologists in Edinburgh open their eyes as big as Duddingston Loch
when they see them. But there--I must be daft to be thinkin' o' moths at
such a time. See, Haggis! Hurry on wi' the denner! We'll be striking the
camp, for we must mak' straight for Pleasant Valley wi'oot delay."
The speaker was all bustle and hurry now, and as the boys followed to
render assistance, Bob asked--
"Pleasant Valley? But did you not say that they were at the Dacotah
village?"
"Of course I did. But I said _were_, not _are_. Did you no' attend to
what your freend said--that Red Fox told him that Mighty Hand would
leave for Pleasant Valley by another sun? That's the day."
"Oh, I see. Then you mean to go there direct?"
"Exactly. I ken something o' that Pleasant Valley. There's no' a verra
pleasant look aboot it noo--a desert o' a place--all crags and sand,
wi' just a pickle o' trees. It's a branch arm o' the Athabasca, and has
been a torrent at some flood-time--the time that probably started the
legend. But there's no' been ony stream flowing there in the
recollection o' living man. But"--and the naturalist was predominant for
the instant--"there are rare kinds o' hawk moth to be found in that same
desert! You'll be seeing the value o' my phosphorus invention before
another couple of nights are out."
The boys laughed as the man's enthusiasm came suddenly uppermost, to the
exclusion of (to their minds) a subject of more vital importance.
"I do believe, Skipper, that you would sooner capture a rare beetle than
be a Napoleon!" laughed Bob, to which the naturalist replied with scorn,
as he indicated the lads to take the opposite end of the tent to roll--
"Beetle? What do you take me for--a coleopterist? Ma conscience, laddie,
these insects are no interest to me. I wouldn't touch one with a pair o'
tongs. It's moths and butterflies for Skipper Mackintosh--the dainty
fluttering things that are like bits o' sunshine and beams o' the
moonlight. Beetle? Speak not to me the name o' thae things o'
darkness!"
The tent was rolled and most of the other adjuncts to the camp were
collected and deftly stowed on the back of the pack-horse with the
neatness of expert campers. Then a hasty cold meal was taken while
Mackintosh delivered his plans.
"Now, boys, listen to me. I've got to be your captain in this journey,
for you'll admit that I know best. Well, I've prepared food enough for
three of us for two days. Each will carry his own. Then you've got a
pair o' guns and a rifle between you. That's all that you'll need. I've
got my own rifle and a revolver, in case o' accidents, though I'm hoping
there'll be no need for the like o' that. Now we'll start off at once.
There's no straight road from here for Pleasant Valley, but it's through
bog and bush where the horse canna get wi' its burden. But it'll make
four or five hours' difference to us other than by the round-about way.
So Haggis'll take the pack-horse. Ay, he'll be better o' Bannock, too.
Dogs are often useless creatures in an expedition that might mean
creeping and hiding. Bannock's no' that bad-mannered; but he loves
hunting, and a wolf might tempt him."
"How far is it to this Pleasant Valley, as it is called?" asked Holden.
"Aboot fifteen mile as we will travel, twenty at the least by the path
Haggis'll follow. Oh, ay, Haggis'll be all right. There's no fear o' him
not turning up aboot midnight. He's no' quite ceevilised yet, for he
canna mind a' the words o' 'Auld Lang Syne' and 'Rule Britannia.' But
he's ceevilised enough to be dependable. You wait at the Old Crossing
till we turn up, Haggis!"
"Right, boss," answered the half-breed, who seldom spoke more than two
words at a time if he could avoid doing so, and he immediately rose up
to make the final arrangements for his departure.
"Then there's no more to be said," the Scotsman concluded. "It's start
right away; keep a brave heart and a steady foot foremost, and we'll no'
be that far from our friends come nightfall."
Skipper Mackintosh had spoken nothing but the truth when he said that
the direct trail was not one that a laden pack-horse could travel with
ease, far less speed.
The earlier portion of the march was easy enough. But after about an
hour's walking through the bush the travellers reached a mile of
bogland, across which a path could only be found by stepping cautiously
from one grassy hummock to another. Even then the surface of the moss
shivered for yards around, and the mud between the tufts oozed, as if
its mouth were watering to swallow up the trio.
"Feel for every step before you put your weight on it!" the naturalist
instructed. He, of course, had taken the foremost position of leader.
"If you want to disappear quicker than you did in yon muskeg, Master
Bob, you can set the tip o' your big toe in yon mud, and you'll travel
as quick as electricity."
This part of the journey was certainly fatiguing, but the travellers
kept up good hearts by pleasant banter and dogged determination.
Reaching solid ground again, there was another easier spell of bush
tramping. Then the trail began the ascent of a hill--a rocky,
loose-bouldered slope that could only be traversed by a narrow path that
somewhat resembled a strip of ribbon on the side of a house.
Up they went, higher and higher each step, with the sharp slope to the
left and a sheer declivity of loose stones at the right.
Once Alf slipped, and the stone against which he tripped went leaping
down the slope without stopping, until it was lost to sight some three
hundred feet or more below.
"Which of you two laddies is the one that's danced down the hillside?"
questioned Mackintosh, without seeming to look round. His voice was
pleasant, but he had taken a quick glance backwards all the same, and
his face had paled a little. That was but his kindly way of cheering the
boys and helping them to keep their nerves in hand.
After a time the climbing ceased. It was now a level path, though it was
none the less ready to trap the unwary, as it twisted round spurs and
crossed little ravines. Then suddenly the travellers became aware of a
sound like that of a small cataract.
Mackintosh stopped, and as they listened they were able to tell that the
sound was one that proceeded from the continuous rolling of innumerable
stones that were being propelled down the hillside at no great distance.
"What on earth is it?" questioned Alf, and at the same moment the man
pointed towards a cloud of dust that had rounded a spur ahead of them--a
cloud that was advancing rapidly in their direction to the
accompaniment of loud bleating.
"A herd of mountain sheep on the stampede," was the Skipper's immediate
verdict.
"Sheep? Coming towards us?" exclaimed Bob, and as the words were spoken
there could be seen amid the dust a lot of woolly animals tearing
frantically along the narrow path, throwing the stones from beneath
their feet, while now and then one would stumble and roll down the slope
as though it had been shot from a cannon.
The noise was bewildering as it echoed among the barren hills and rocks.
"See! There's a black animal chasing them!" exclaimed Holden excitedly.
"A bear," said Mackintosh with grim calmness, as he rapidly slung his
repeating rifle into readiness, an example that the boys quickly
followed.
"What's to be done?" Bob questioned. Frankly he had not the remotest
notion how to meet such an emergency, for it was impossible to climb
upwards, as it was equally impossible to descend, while to retire along
the path would only be to postpone the threatening disaster for a few
minutes.
"Come! Follow me quickly; but be careful," Mackintosh suddenly ordered,
he himself hastening forward as the boys followed.
At this position the side of the hill bent to the left in the form of a
horseshoe, so that it was quite easy from where the three adventurers
stood to throw a stone across the intervening chasm to the path at the
other side.
Mackintosh led the way until he had reached the first spur; then he told
the boys to wait.
"Keep your hands steady and your guns ready, boys," he said. "I'm going
along a bit to shoot down the leaders, if it may be; you empty your
rifle and a round or two o' shot into yon bear. They'll all be opposite
us on the other side in a few minutes. A steady nerve will do it; so, if
ever you were cool in your born days, this is the day to be coolest."
Without waiting for further remark from either side, the man then
hastened some yards along the path and took up a position where he could
kneel and steady his gun arm on a boulder, and hardly had the several
positions been taken up when with roar and clatter and cloud the
stampede rounded the opposite hill-spur.
Crack! went the Scotsman's repeater. Crack! crack! And down tumbled
three sheep, two of which rolled over the slope, leaving one to bar the
way in the path. The others took the downward plunge. Crack! crack!
crack! The rifle spoke rapidly and surely, as each bullet found a billet
in a different animal.
The race was checked, but not yet effectually, though the Skipper had
now more time to pick off the leaders as they scrambled over their
brethren--only to fall victims to the sharp-shooter and help to build up
a barrier to impede the others.
It was now a terrible sight of animals in desperation.
There were a hundred mountain sheep at least, and they were scrambling
in a dense mass, trying vainly to advance--fighting, struggling,
tumbling down the slope in mad confusion. Now and then one would have a
momentary success and almost cross the barrier; then the deadly rifle
would again send its message--and the barrier would be raised by one
victim more.
Meantime, faithful to their charge, the boys kept their attention to the
rear of the herd, but the dust was so dense that they could barely
discern the hindmost animals.
Then Bob suddenly exclaimed--
"Look out!"
But Alf had been equally ready. A rifle and a gun darted up to each
boy's shoulder at the same instant; a simultaneous explosion came like
one from both weapons. Then followed a roar like a miniature
thunder-peal, and a brown grizzly was seen to shoot down the declivity
in pursuit of the poor sheep that he had driven to destruction in such
numbers.
"Bravo!" shouted Mackintosh, letting go his feelings in a wild whoop of
exultation. "A grand shot, lads!"
"I guess his day's work is done," returned Alf quietly, though he was
none the less delighted with his own and his chum's success.
Finding that the fierce pursuit had ceased, the few remaining sheep
turned on the retreat, since they found it impossible to advance
farther. Then the adventurers proceeded on their way, though they, in
their turn, found it impossible to pass the barrier, and some time had
to be expended in carefully tumbling the carcases down the slope. But
soon the work was successfully accomplished, and the path once more
clear to permit the three comrades to pursue their urgent course.