FACE TO FACE.
"Th' saints defind her!" cried Barney.
"Indians?" panted Frank. "Are you sure?"
"Wa-al, I reckon! Hyar's ther marks. See them hoof prints thar. Notice
they toe in. Thet is Injun sign."
"I--I think we had better return to the camp at once," fluttered
Professor Scotch.
"Not much!" exclaimed Frank, fiercely. "If she has fallen into the hands
of those red wretches, we must follow them and rescue her."
Old Rocks nodded.
"You talk all right, youngster; but I reckon yer sand would ooze out on
a pinch. All ther same, we must foller ther skunks."
"Go on!" came from Barney. "Begobs! we'll show yez av we've got sand!"
"But I am not feeling well," protested the professor.
"Then ye'd better go back," snarled Old Rocks. "You'll be more bother
then good, anyhow."
"I--I can't go back through the darkness. I should lose my way. You must
accompany me to the camp."
"An' waste all thet time? Wa-al, I ruther guess not! Time is too
valuable just now."
"This is a terrible scrape!" fluttered Scotch. "I expect we'll all be
killed before we get out of it!"
The guide seemed to hesitate, casting a sidelong look at the professor,
as if he longed to get rid of the man in some way, but did not know
how.
"I kin do as much erlone as I kin with ther hull o' yer," he finally
said. "I reckons ye'd best all go back."
"I guess not!" cried Frank. "I am with you through thick and thin! You
will remember that I found the child, and she called herself my fairy.
It is my duty to help rescue her."
"Wa-al, I 'lows ye'll stick ter thet," growled Old Rocks; "an' so I'll
hev ter take yer erlong."
"An' Oi'm wid him, begobs!"
But the guide would not agree to that.
"Somebody's got ter go back ter camp an' look out fer things," he said.
"I reckons you an' ther professor is ther ones."
Barney groaned.
"Profissor, can't yez go alone?" he asked. "It's nivver a chance have Oi
had ter take a hand in a bit av a ruction loately, av ye will except th'
chance Oi had th' doay."
But Professor Scotch had no fancy to return through the darkness to the
camp, and he insisted that Barney should accompany him. The Irish boy
was forced to succumb, and he parted from Frank with the utmost
reluctance and regret.
"We have fought an' bled togither," he said, "an' it's harrud to be
parruted loike this."
In a short time Barney and the professor were returning to the camp,
while, with Frank Merriwell at his heels, Old Rocks again took up the
trail.
Frank marveled at the swiftness with which Old Rocks swung over the
ground.
Through the timber they made their way, and then through a narrow
ravine, and four or five miles had been covered before the guide paused
to speak.
"They're makin' straight fer ther lake," he said. "I don't like that."
"Why not?"
"Ef ther p'izen varmints has canoes--wa-al, we won't be liable ter
foller 'em farther than ther lake."
"That is true. We will hope they have no canoes."
Onward they went once more, Old Rocks having lighted a fresh torch,
which left but one remaining.
The night was on the wane. Already the sounds of the middle night were
hushed. The owls had stopped their hooting, and now, on noiseless wing,
were making their last hunting rounds before day should come.
Afar on the side of a mountain a wolf was howling like a dog baying to
the moon. The stars which filled the sky seemed to prophesy of dawn.
Bending low, now and then swinging his torch to fan it into a stronger
flame, Old Rocks almost raced along the trail, while the boy at his
heels kept close.
They were like two tongueless hounds upon a hot scent.
And thus they came, at last, to the lake.
Not a word did Old Rocks say for several minutes, but he moved up and
down the shore, reading the "sign," while his companion waited with the
greatest anxiety.
At length, with a grated exclamation of rage and dismay, the man flung
himself on the ground.
"It's jest as I feared," he growled. "Ther onery varmints hed canoes hid
hyar, an' we kin trail 'em no farther."
"Then what can we do?" fluttered the discomfited boy.
"Northin' but wait fer daylight."
Now on the still air very faintly was heard a distant tone of music; a
sweet whistle, at first low, rising and falling, and then gradually
becoming more distinct. It came nearer and nearer till it seemed to fill
the air all about, and then, looking upward, they saw dark forms
flitting between them and the stars.
The wild ducks were flying.
The musical note passed on, receded, grew fainter and fainter, till, at
last, it died out in the distance.
From the lake came a far-off trumpet call, and then another--the mellow
note of the wild geese.
The world was awakening; the day was near.
The stars were growing paler now. In the eastern sky was a bit of gray,
which slowly broadened, pushing upward and blotting out the stars.
Where all before was dark, the morning twilight began to show the black
forms of things.
The outlines of tree trunks could be seen, and they seemed to stand like
ghosts, reaching out shadowy arms, as if feeling their way through the
dimness.
The birds which through the long night had slept in the low bushes were
beginning to chirp and flutter.
All at once, Old Rocks started and clutched Frank's arm.
"Listen!" he whispered.
The sound of footsteps told them some one was approaching.
"Back!" whispered the guide, leading the way. "We must see who ther
critter is, an' he musn't see us."
Hastily they drew into the deep shadows, holding their rifles ready for
use in case they should need them.
Nearer and nearer came the footsteps, and then the dark figure of a man
appeared, advancing through the dusky darkness.
The man was alone, and he halted on the shore of the lake, within a
short distance of the crouching man and boy. They saw him bow his head
on his breast and stand there in silence.
Several minutes passed. At last, the unknown lifted his head, stretched
out his arms, and uttered a long, mournful cry that seemed to come from
a breaking heart.
Old Rocks rose and glided swiftly and silently toward the stranger, who
did not hear him approach. The guide's hand dropped on the man's
shoulder, and he said:
"Hello, Hermit. Whatever be yer doin' hyar?"
The strange man turned, and Frank saw that it was indeed the Hermit of
the Yellowstone.
"Doing?" he said, hoarsely. "I am seeking rest--seeking rest! I'll never
find it till I rest in the grave!"
"You must hev a derned bad liver, or somethin' o' ther sort," sneered
Old Rocks. "I don't understand a critter like you none whatever."
"I do not expect you to understand me. You do not know my story. If I
were to tell you----"
"We ain't got time ter listen; but I'll tell you a leetle story. You
know ther babby-gal whut yer saw at our camp?"
The hermit bowed, and then, as if a suspicion of the truth had flashed
over him, he fiercely grasped the guide with both hands, hoarsely
demanding:
"Has anything happened to her? Tell me--tell me quick!"
With a few well-chosen words, Old Rocks told exactly what had happened.
The hermit seemed overcome with horror and dismay.
"She must be saved!"
"You're right; but how wuz we ter foller ther red varmints 'thout a
canoe. Now they hev got clean away."
"I will find her!" cried the hermit, with one hand uplifted, as if
registering a vow. "I will find her and restore her to--hold! How did
she happen to be with you?"
A further explanation was in order. Frank told how Fay had appeared in
time to save himself and Barney from being attacked by Half Hand and the
Blackfeet, what she had told them, how they had taken her to the camp,
and how Old Rocks had agreed to find her mother with the coming of
another day.
The guide and the boy believed the Hermit must be little Fay's father,
and they watched him closely as he listened. When Frank had finished,
the strange man eagerly asked:
"Her name--her full name--did you learn it?"
"No. She told us her name was Fay, and that her mother sometimes called
her Fairy Fay; but we were unable to learn her last name."
"From whut we saw in ther camp, we allowed as how it wuz likely you hed
seen ther babby afore, an' you knowed her proper name," insinuated Old
Rocks.
The Hermit did not answer the implied question.
"Come," he said, "follow me. I have a canoe."
"I s'pose we can't do any wuss," mumbled Old Rocks; "though I don't
prezactly know how we're goin' ter trail them critters through ther
warter."
The Hermit moved along at a swinging stride, and they followed him
through the morning twilight.
Less than half a mile had been covered when the man in advance suddenly
paused, uttering an exclamation of surprise.
Straight ahead, amid the trees of a little grove on the shore, they
beheld the snowy outlines of a tent.
In a little park beyond the camp could be seen the dusky outlines of
horses feeding. Close to the open flap of the tent two dogs were curled,
both sleeping soundly, so silent had been the approach of the trio.
The light in the eastern sky was getting a pink tinge, and, with each
passing moment, objects could be seen more distinctly.
A tiny column of blue smoke rose from the white ashes of the camp-fire,
telling that a brand still smoldered there.
There was a stir within the tent. There were muffled grunts, a yawn or
two, the rustle of clothing, faint sounds of footsteps, and then the
flap of the tent was flung wide open, and a man came out into the
morning air. He paused and stretched his limbs, standing so the trio
obtained a fair view of him.
With a sudden, hoarse cry, the Hermit rushed forward and confronted the
man.
"Foster Fairfax!" he shouted, with savage joy; "at last we are face to
face!"