CHAPTER VII.

THE FLIGHT.

The outlaw chief placed himself by the side of Lucille as they

started away, and she said quickly:

“There is no possible chance of my escape, so ride on ahead and I

will follow you.”

“You do not wish me by your side?”

“I do not.”

“I wish to talk to you.”

“I do not care to converse with you.”

“But I have something of importance to say.”

“I do not care to hear it.”

“But you must, and the trail admits of two riding abreast now, and

will not later on, and I will not disturb you long.”

“I have no power to enforce my wish.”

“I shall ask the sum of just thirty thousand dollars for your ransom,

and when that is paid you shall go free.”

“You will not get it.”

“Why?”

“Well, though I have property of considerable value, neither my

lawyer and guardian, nor myself, can get money on it until a certain

time, and the cash that can be got is just that which is left over

from the sum appropriated to pay certain fees, my schooling and

living.”

“And what does that amount to?”

“About eighteen thousand dollars.”

“Somehow I believe you, so I will take what I can get. Twenty

thousand, then, shall be the price, for the balance can be raised.

Doubtless your father has it, and when that is paid, you shall go

free. I shall arrange all matters so as to place no difficulties in

the way, and, meanwhile, you shall be treated with every respect, and

given what comforts I can allow you.”

There was something in the manner of the outlaw toward her that

Lucille could not understand, and that was his marked respect.

When it grew near sunset he ordered a halt, sought a secluded spot

for his captive, had her canvas shelter put up, and placed before her

a good supper, after which he left her, with the words:

“I shall halt here for four hours, and then it shall be six more in

the saddle, so get what rest you can.”

Lucille enjoyed her supper, spread her blankets, and was soon fast

asleep.

A call awakened her, and, fifteen minutes after, they were again

in the saddle, this time the chief riding ahead of her, his masked

followers coming along behind her.

“Why do they mask still? for they are all Indians, I have

discovered,” she said to the chief.

“You are not so sure of that.”

“Oh, yes, I am,” was the girl’s confident reply. “I wasn’t born in

the West, but I know an Indian when I see one.”

Another long ride through the darkness of six hours, and the chief

called a halt, two hours before dawn.

Again Lucille was placed in a secluded spot, her shelter put up and

she was made comfortable, the chief remarking:

“We will not move for five hours this time, so you will have another

rest, so make the best of it.”

Again she slept soundly, and when she awoke the sun was shining

brightly. She at once realized her position, and sighed.

But she went to a rivulet near and made her toilet, then sat down on

a rock and ate the breakfast which the chief had cooked.

He had killed a deer, and gave her a nice steak, some bacon broiled

on the coals, a crisp hoecake, and a cup of coffee in which there was

some condensed milk and sugar he had brought from Pioneer City.

She ate heartily, mounted her horse, and again took her place behind

the chief, who remarked quietly:

“As you can see through masks, Miss Fallon, I told my men to take

them off.”

“Yes, they are Indians, and a cruel-looking lot they are, though with

hearts that are not as evil as their master’s, for their training has

been to kill, torture, and rob an enemy, yours far different.”

He bit his lip, but made no reply, and again rode to the front.

After a short while he said:

“Buffalo Bill and your father are up at the fords with Lieutenant

Worth, hunting Indians, as you doubtless know. Jack Jessop got in

during the night, and doubtless sent word of the holdup of the coach

both to the fort and to Pioneer City, so that the troops, if sent at

once on the trail, have now reached Monument Hill.”

“On your trail?”

“Yes, but a long distance behind, for we are over forty miles from

the hill, and before night I shall cross the river into the Indian

country, as I know of a secret trail over the mountain range you see

ahead of us which will cut off half a day’s hard ride, and treat you

to a view of some magnificent scenery as well.”

“You are very thoughtful to treat me to grand scenery under such

circumstances.”

“Well, I wish to make your captivity as pleasant to you as possible;

but I have to ride hard, as I will only feel safe when I get you

across the river.”

“And I shall be less safe.”

“You will be all right, for I will take you up into the village of

the old chief, Iron Eyes, and there is a good cabin there which no

Indian will live in. It was built by a renegade white man who fled

with his family to the Indians and was adopted into the tribe.

The man, his wife and the children died off, and their cabin still

remains there in good condition, furnished as they left it, for they

brought all their furniture with them in their flight.”

“I shall appreciate being separated from the Indians at least.”

“Oh, yes, you will be free from them, for the tepees nearest the

cabin are not occupied, but all used to store pelts, food, and the

hundred and one things an Indian snakes in. It is, in fact, the

store village, and the nearest living tepee to you is that of the

young chief, Death Face, and you can trust him, for he is of a most

chivalrous nature.

“The other Indians will not go near you, I’ll see to that, so you

will be alone; but that will not mean that you will have a chance

to escape, as that would be impossible for a man to do, let alone a

girl.”

Lucille made no reply, and the chief did not again break the silence

until they had climbed the mountain range by a most dangerous path.

The outlaw halted as he neared the top of the range, having asked

Lucille not to look behind her until he told her to do so, as he did

not wish to spoil her view.

She wheeled her horse and glanced behind her, and an exclamation of

delight burst from her lips.

Long she gazed in perfect rapture, and forgetful of herself, as she

beheld miles of mountain, valley, and plain scenery.

“That little grove there shall be your noonday camping place,

directly upon the summit of the mountain, so that you can see in

every direction,” said the chief. “Down on the other side, a few

hundred yards, is a plateau, a valley in the mountaintop, with a

stream running through it, and there we shall go on and halt, for

there is good grass for the horses. When you get tired of the view

come to where we are, and dinner will be ready.”

Reaching the little grove of pines, Lucille again cried out in

admiration, for before her now was a still grander view.

Flowing through a vast valley, was a large river.

“Do you see yonder mountains, miles below the river?”

“Yes.”

“It is there that the Indian village is, and that will be the end of

our trail.

“Just there, where you see a bald hill by the river, is where we will

cross by a ford but very few know of, for none of my Indians know of

it, and it is one no one could find, save by accident, as I did by

seeing a herd of deer take to the water and swim across.

“Something frightened them on the other side--a pack of wolves, I

think--and they swam back again, landing at another point below. It

showed me a crossing place, and I let several of my men into the

secret and used to send couriers that way to and from my retreat to

the Indian village. As the known fords are now guarded by troops, we

will cross this way, if you are not too much alarmed.”

“And if I am you will go to the regular ford?”

“Oh, no; I am no fool, to run upon the soldiers.”

“What will you do if I have not the nerve to go across?”

“Simply go around by a ford that will give us two days’ hard travel.”

“Never mind me, then; cross by the secret ford, for I can venture it

if you can.”

The outlaw then rode on, leading her horse, the Indians having gone

to the camping place.

Lucille was alone on the mountaintop, and gazed about her in rapt

admiration.

At last she said:

“If I had my horse and a good start, I would risk finding my way back

to the Overland Trail, for I watched all along closely, and my horse

would retrace his tracks, I believe.

“But, no, I must accept the situation as it is, and take things as

they come.

“The outlaw, from what he says, seems to think the fords are guarded

by a large force, so I will not undeceive him.

“Even now my father may be within a few miles of me, and, oh! if he

only knew.”

The girl weakened for a moment, but quickly rallied from her emotions

and continued her gaze for quite a while. Then she strolled about the

mountaintop, plucked a few wild flowers clinging among the rocks, and

next started down to the camp with the remark:

“Ah! I get the odors of boiling bacon and coffee, for the wind blows

up from the camp. It makes me hungry, so I’ll go down to dinner.”

Down she went, soon to come upon the trail, and she was glad to find

dinner ready, and enjoyed it.

Mounting again, the chief said:

“We must ride hard now, for the river will have to be behind us when

the sun sets. Are you very tired, Miss Fallon?”

“Oh, no.”

So on they went at a very slow pace for several miles in going down

the mountain, and then when they struck good traveling, they pushed

rapidly on, the chief not sparing the horses now.

The sun was over an hour high when the river came into view.

A halt was made to cool the horses off a little, then, riding down a

steep ravine to the water, the chief said:

“I’ll take your bridle rein here, Miss Fallon. Permit me to fold this

rubber blanket around your feet and form, and you will not get in

the least wet. Let your horse have full rein and do not be alarmed.”

“I am not in the least alarmed,” was the reply, and she permitted the

chief to fold the rubber blanket about her in such a way that she

would not get wet when her horse was back deep in swimming.

Then the chief rode in, she followed, her horse led, and the Indians

came behind with the pack horses.

The animals began to swim almost immediately, and the brave girl

rather enjoyed the scene than dreaded it.

After a long swim a sand bar was reached, they landed in safety, and,

not to let the horses get cold, the chief pushed on for a couple of

miles and went into camp, with the remark:

“We are safe now, Miss Fallon, and you can rest through the night.”

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