It required but a single glance for Frank Armond to recognize two of
the three men seated around the glowing fire in the cavern, called by
the two hunters Bear’s Cave. They were Ralph Rodman and his brother
Willis. The third person, the reader will readily guess, was Gustave
Barker.
A shout of joy escaped Frank’s lips when he saw his friend and brother
were safe.
In a moment they were grouped around the fire, greeting each other as
though they had been separated for years.
“But where is Walter?” asked Willis.
“The good Lord only knows,” responded Frank; “he became separated from
me to-day while being pursued by a band of Indians. I hope, however, he
is safe.”
“And, now, jis’ tell dis chile how ye ’scape from de robbers’ den,”
said Ebony.
“Well, we escaped to-night, by the assistance of a man disguised in a
bear’s skin, and whom the robber-captain called Black Bear,” returned
Willis; then turning to Barker, he continued: “This Mr. Barker escaped
with us. He had been a prisoner there for three years. He knew uncle
Wayland Sanford, Frank, years ago in California.”
“I am happy to meet the friend of my dear old uncle,” said Frank,
grasping the thin, cold hand of Barker, “but of course, Willis has told
you of uncle Wayland’s sudden and mysterious death.”
“Yes, my young friend, and I would have given my life to have seen your
uncle before his death,” returned Barker.
“You must have cherished a great affection for him, Mr. Barker.”
“Not only that, young man, but I hold a secret that would have
prolonged his life twenty years.”
Barker began and related the story of Wayland Sanford being convicted
of murder at Miner’s Gulch on the Yuba, through the instrumentality of
Duval Dungarvon, as the reader has already heard it from the lips of
Dungarvon himself. Then he told how he had hid bleeding and mangled
in the shaft for five days before he was taken out, more dead than
alive, to find both Sanford and Dungarvon gone. Then he told how he had
labored in the mines, accumulated a large fortune, started to his home
in the East, was robbed of his gold in the mountains, and left for dead
a second time; how he recovered and hid away in the mountains, where
for years he remained a hunter, and finally fell into the hands of his
would-be murderer, Duval Dungarvon, and that he had never heard of
Wayland Sanford until he met Willis in prison.
“Then you are acquainted with these Black Hills?” said Frank, when
Barker had finished his story.
“Yes, I knew every hill, hollow, and stream, and about two months
before my incarceration in the robbers’ den, I had met and become
acquainted with a young ranger in whom I took a deep interest, and whom
I would love to see.”
“Did you make him a present of something once?” asked Frank, as a
thought occurred to his mind.
“Yes; a trained, pet eagle. Have you met Rodger Rainbolt?”
“Yes; it was he who dealt--” began Frank, but at this juncture Flick
O’Flynn appeared from the entrance and interrupted him, saying:
“Ay, b’ys, and it’s a divil av a time we’re going to have. The red
divils have found out our hiding-sphot, and th’y’re swharming like
hornits arhound us on the outside. Musha! it’s fite ’r stharve, so
bring yer tools, b’ys, and come to the front.”
“Isn’t this cavern called Bear’s Cave?” suddenly asked Barker, as they
started to their feet in alarm.
“Indade it is,” responded O’Flynn.
“Great Heavens!” exclaimed Barker, “I had forgotten the place. Do you
know that there are _two_ entrances to it?”
“Ho’y mother, no!” responded Flick.
Footsteps sounded in the passage behind them. They glanced back. A cry
of horror escaped each lip, for with a flaming torch in one hand and a
tomahawk in the other, they beheld a score of savages, led by the young
chief Allacotah, advancing toward them.
Quick as thought Frank and Willis raised their repeating rifles and
fired. Allacotah fell dead, with a bullet through his heart. Again
and again the young men fired until every chamber of their rifles was
empty. A savage fell at every shot. The others recoiled, then when the
war-whoop of another party coming in at the entrance rolled through the
cavern, they rallied and closed in upon our friends.
The conflict was short. Our friends were all, save one, overpowered and
made prisoners. Gustave Barker, like the phantom that he seemed, had
glided from the cavern and made his escape in the woods.
And now a wail of lamentation echoed through the cavern, as the savages
gathered around the lifeless form of their young chief Allacotah.
Victory had been dearly bought by them. Besides their chief, a dozen
of the best warriors lay dead, while not one of their enemies had
fallen. Though it would have been an easy matter to have tomahawked
the captives, they dare not, for the great chief, Black Bear, had
ordered that all captives be taken and brought to the village alive and
unharmed.
Litters were constructed of blankets, and the dead and wounded placed
upon them to be taken back to the village.
The prisoners’ feet were unbound and they permitted to stand; and then
with their hands bound at their backs, they were marched out the cavern.
The first glimmer of approaching day was beginning to streak the
eastern sky.
In a few minutes the dead had been brought from the cavern, and then
the party filed away through the forest in the direction of the Indian
village.