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Frank Merriwell's Bravery, a novel by Burt L. Standish |
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Chapter 32. Trailed Down |
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_ CHAPTER XXXII. TRAILED DOWN "Ther trail's gittin' derned hot, boy!" said Old Rocks, near sunset. "Ther p'izen varmints can't be fur ahead." They were passing through one of the wildest sections of the park. Mountains, capped with eternal snow, were on every hand. Their sides were seamed with mighty chasms and strewn with huge bowlders, many of which, it seemed, the weight of a hand would send crashing and thundering into the dark depths below. Some of the mountains bore traces of vegetation, pine and cedar showing darkly on many a jagged cliff. Some were bleak and barren, but none the less grand, impressive, and awe-inspiring. Amid these mountains were desolate canyons, which seemed to hold some dreadful secret locked fast in their silent bosoms. Since the encounter with the grizzlies Old Rocks and Frank had paused to eat a square meal of bear-steak, and it had braced them for the tramp, so they were able to cover ground swiftly without fatigue or discomfort. They had passed through a region of boiling geysers, where the water shot more than a hundred feet into the air, and came down in a rain, across which a beautiful rainbow formed, the roaring sound which accompanied this exhibition being as loud as the exhaust of a thousand locomotives. In one marshy valley they had passed pools of water, sulphur yellow, bright green, pink, crimson, and nearly all colors of the rainbow, the pools being from twenty to fifty feet apart. They had seen other things which were not given a second glance by Old Rocks, but which Frank longed to stop and examine. But it was no time for sight-seeing, as the boy well knew, and he held close to the heels of the unwearying guide. And now, near nightfall, Old Rocks declared that the trail was getting hot. "Shall we be able to overtake them before dark?" asked Frank, with the greatest anxiety. "I dunno," was the answer. "But it's derned certun thet we ain't goin' ter come fur from it." "Oh, for two hours more of daylight!" sighed the boy. "We'd run ther critters down dead sure in thet time. But I don't want yer ter git ther idee thet they're goin' ter give up ther gal 'thout a murmur." "But they will have to give her up." "Thet's whatever. All ther same, we may hev ter fight, an' ole Half Hand is a mighty bad critter ter buck agin'; you hear me shout!" "I am ready to fight, if necessary." "Ef I'd heerd yer say so this mornin', I w'u'dn't putt no dependence on it; but now I'll allow thet yer means whut yer says, an' yer've got sand ter give erway. Boy, you're a holy terror on trucks, an' you may quote me ez sayin' so." Frank did not smile. "Wait," he said. "I may not show up so well in the encounter with the Blackfeet. I was lucky in the bear fight." "Wa-al, dog my cats ef you ain't ther fust tenderfut I ever saw thet wouldn't hev bragged his head off ef he'd killed a grizzly! Why, boy, you don't seem ter know whut ye've done! You've made a record. Ary other tenderfut I ever saw'd go back East an' publish ther story in all ther papers. He'd be hailed ez a mighty chief an' a tin god on wheels." "Tenderfeet are not all braggarts, any more than Westerners are all brave men." "Thet's whatever," nodded Rocks; "but it's took me a gaul derned long time ter find it out." The sun was low behind the western mountains, and darkness was filling the great canyons. The guide swung onward at a steady pace, following the trail with the same readiness and ease that had proved a source of wonder all along to his companion. It was evident the Blackfeet had not anticipated hot pursuit, and so they had made little or no effort to hide their trail after passing across an arm of the lake. The trail grew hotter and hotter, but night came on swiftly, and Old Rocks was forced to bend low and keep his eyes on the ground. "Watch out ahead, boy," he directed. "I've got all I kin' tend ter in follerin' ther trail. Don't let us run plump onter ther varmints, fer they might take a notion ter wipe us out." So Frank followed the guide, keeping his eyes to the front, and watching for danger. Darker and darker it became. Rocks was forced to proceed more slowly, as there was danger of losing the trail entirely. Finally he found it necessary to stop now and then and examine the ground thoroughly. "We shall not overtake them before dark, shall we?" asked Frank, anxiously. "Hard tellin'. Watch out. May run onter 'em any time." When they halted again, Frank suddenly uttered a low cry of warning, caught hold of the man, and exclaimed: "Look there!" Through the darkness they saw the twinkle of a camp-fire. "Thet settles it!" breathed Old Rocks, exultantly. "The skunks are thar! We've run 'em down!" He gave no further attention to the trail, but straightway made sure that every weapon he possessed was ready for use. "Now, boy," he whispered, "keep yer nerve. Thar'll be need enough o' it afore long." "I am with you," assured Frank. "I do not think I shall lose my nerves in this case." "Wa-al, I don't," confessed the man. "I've got heaps o' conferdence in yer now. We'll creep up." Then followed something that sorely tried the patience of the boy, for Old Rocks seemed to crawl forward like a snail, taking advantage of every cover that would shield them from the sight of any one in front. The guide warned Frank to "hug ther ground," and made him creep, and skulk, and wiggle along when there seemed no need of it. In this way they slowly drew near to the fire, about which figures moved now and then. "It's ther onery Blackfeet," the guide finally announced. "We hev done a good job so fur ter-day, an' now we wants ter finish it right, you bet!" "What do you mean to do?" asked Frank. "Make a bluff," was the answer. "What kind of a bluff?" They had reached a point where they could look into the camp and see the savages feasting on some kind of game they had killed and cooked by the fire. "I'm goin' in thar an' demand ther gal," said the guide. "Won't that put us in their power?" "You won't go with me." "No?" "No. You'll keep in ther background." "What for?" "As a reserve force. You must keep yer peepers open, an' ef you see ther skunks is goin' ter do fer me, jest open up on 'em. I reckon you kin shoot some?" "Yes." "Take good keer not ter bore me." "I will." "But, ef yer start, pump ther lead ter ther critters ter beat ther Ole Nick." "I will do it." "Make sure whar ye're puttin' yer bullets, fer ye don't want ter kill ther leetle gal." "You may depend on me." "While you're slingin' lead I'll try ter git ther gal an' git erway with her." "Won't we get into trouble if I should kill one of these Indians?" "How?" "Why, the Blackfeet are peaceable, and it may create a disturbance. We may be hauled over the coals." "Haul an' be derned! Ther onery varmints hev kidnaped a white gal, an' they're poachin' on forbidden territory, besides bein' off ther reservation. Ef they try ter kill me, it will be a case o' self-defence. I'll allow as how we kin defend ourselves. You do ez I say, an we'll come out all right, dog my cats ef we don't!" "All right." "But don't shoot 'less yer hev ter, remember thet." "I will remember it." "Ef I hedn't seen ther b'ar, an' seen hwar yer putt five bullets inter him inside ther space uv a silver dollar, I might be skerry 'bout lettin' yer shoot inter thet camp while I wuz thar; but I'll admit ez how I reckon ye kin shoot." They now crept forward till they were within easy shooting distance of the camp, and then Rocks paused once more, putting his lips close to Frank's ear, and whispering: "See them rocks down thar?" The boy nodded. "Wa-al, jest you creep down behind them an' take yer position ready ter sling lead." "What are you going to do?" "Git inter ther camp. I'm goin' ter walk in from t'other side, so they'll be lookin' fer any further danger frum thet quarter. Don't git impatient, fer it'll take me some time ter git round thar. Wait easy." "I'll wait." Then the old man crept away into the darkness, and Frank began working his way down to the rocks. He finally reached the position, and there he waited, being able to look into the camp and see every figure revealed by the flaring fire. The little girl was there, exhausted by the day of hardships, sleeping soundly. One of the Indians had thrown a greasy blanket over her, so she was protected from the night air, which is always chilly in Yellowstone Park. Frank's heart throbbed with sympathy as he gazed down on her. "Poor little Fairy!" he thought. "How she did cling to me! I am ready to wade through fire and water for her. We will save her to-night if we live!" He found it difficult to restrain his impatience as the time crept slowly away and Old Rocks failed to appear. Some of the Indians rolled themselves in their blankets and prepared to sleep. Others sat and smoked in grim silence. Frank had spotted Half Hand, and he felt that it would be some satisfaction to send a bullet after the villainous half-blood. "He is at the bottom of this business," thought the boy. "He would not hesitate at murder." Nearly an hour passed after Old Rocks crept away before the guide appeared. At last, to the astonishment of Frank and the utter consternation of the Indians, the man seemed to rise up in the very midst of the camp, as if he had suddenly sprouted from the ground. _ |
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