Chapter 3. An Aboriginal Plot

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_ CHAPTER III. AN ABORIGINAL PLOT

The boys tried the plan of Fred Linden; he swerved slightly to the left, while Terry Clark made a sharp angle to the right. They never thought of getting beyond hearing of each other, and, but for the plentiful undergrowth they would have kept in sight. They had taken but a few steps when Fred looked around and found that he was alone. He could hear his young friend pushing his way among the trees, and once or twice he caught snatches of a tune that he was whistling--that being a favorite pastime of the lad when by himself.

"It's curious how he could make such a blunder," thought Fred, with a smile to himself; "he will go tramping around the woods only to find that he was nowhere in the neighborhood of the cow. Ah, the storm is not yet over."

He was looking to the eastward, where the sky, as he caught a glimpse of it among the treetops and branches, was as black as if overcast with one huge thunder cloud.

"It was there it raged so violently last night, and the rain is falling in torrents again. We shall find the creek a river when we go back."

The sturdy youth pressed on fully two hundred yards more, when the old suspicion came back to him. There was something wrong. When he could not explain some things he was satisfied that it was because there was an element of evil in those things--something that boded ill to both him and his friend.

"I have traveled far enough since hearing that bell to pass a long ways beyond it," he said, compressing his lips and shaking his head; "and if that was Brindle that rang it the first time, she would have done it the second time."

Twice before Fred fancied he heard something moving among the undergrowth a short distance in advance, and a little to one side. The noise was now so distinct that he could no longer deceive himself; there was some specific cause for it.

"I guess Terry has worked over this way, finding what a mistake he has made--no! by gracious! it isn't Terry!"

Fred started in alarm, confident that it was an Indian that was moving through the wood. It will be admitted that there was cause for his fear, if such should prove to be the case, for he was without any firearms with which to defend himself; but while he stood meditating whether he should turn and take to his heels, he caught enough of a glimpse of the object to make out that it was a quadruped instead of a biped.

This was a great relief, though it did not remove all fear, for he was not in form to meet any of the wild beasts that one was liable to run against at any time. The next minute, he broke into a hearty laugh, for that which he saw was the lost cow, quietly browsing on the tender herbs, as though just turned loose by her owner.

"Well, that is funny," said the youth, walking hastily toward her; "this proves that I was right. You are a pretty one, old Brindle, to lead us on such a chase!"

The cow, hearing the voice and footsteps, stopped cropping, and with her motionless jaws dripping with leaves and buds, started at Fred as if she wasn't sure of his identity. She knew enough, however, to see that he was a friend, and so resumed her feeding.

Assuring himself that she was the estray, Fred looked at her bag to see the condition of that. It was only moderately full, proving that she had been milked later even than the preceding night.

Fred Linden had approached close enough to place his hand on the handsome creature, when he noticed--what indeed he knew before--the bell was not fastened to her neck; that explained why, after hearing the sound, it was heard no more.

"The cord has broken just after the tinkle, and let the bell fall to the ground; no wonder that it was not heard again. Some one has been kind enough to give Brindle a milking."

The words were yet in the mouth of Fred when he received a shock that for a moment held him speechless; a long distance to the right he caught the sound of the cow-bell!

It was precisely the same that he and his friend had noticed, and since the bell of Brindle was gone, there could be but one meaning to the signal; it was made by some one for the purpose of drawing the boys into a trap.

Without pausing to think over the dozen questions that came with this conclusion, Fred set off at the most hurried pace possible to warn his friend of his peril.

"He has no suspicion of any thing wrong, and is sure to do the very thing that he ought not to do."

Fred Linden was right in this conclusion. It can be readily understood, why no thought of peril should enter the brain of the Irish lad, who was never so sure that he was right and Fred wrong when the two parted to take different routes in search of the cow.

"It's a bright lad--is Fred," said Terry, "but there isn't any law that I knows of by which he is to be right ivery time and Mr. Terence Clark wrong. I'm going straight for the point where the tinkle of the bell came from."

The same thought puzzled him that puzzled Fred Linden; after walking more than the whole distance that first intervened, the cow was still invisible. There was nothing in the fact that when she had strayed so far from home, she should keep on in the same direction.

"It may be that she has heard something about the Pacific Ocean, and has set out to see for herself whither the reports are correct," was the quaint thought of the Irish lad, as he pushed vigorously through the undergrowth, which was dense enough to turn him aside more than once and compel him to keep his wits about him to prevent going astray altogether.

Now and then he paused, naturally expecting (as did Fred), that he would hear more of the bell; but it is not necessary to say that, like his companion, he was disappointed. He had fixed the point whence came the noise so firmly in his mind, that he could not go wrong, though a boy of less experience in the woods would have been sure to do so.

Now, if any of you lads have ever driven cows or sheep, around whose necks bells were hung, you have noticed the natural fact that they have a sound peculiar to themselves. Referring particularly to cows, you may have observed the _jangle_, _jangle_, made by the motion of the head in cropping the grass, varied now and then by the confused jumble caused by the animal flinging her head over the back of her neck or fore part of the body to drive away the insects plaguing her. There is a certain regularity in all this which will continue for hours, and that may be said to be produced by the natural action of the animal, and which is altogether different from that made by the swaying motion of the hand.

But Terry Clark inherited a sharpness of wits from his parents, and, while pushing forward among the trees and undergrowth, it struck him that there were several curious features about the matter.

"It was a mistake, as Fred said," he thought more than once, "that we did not bring our guns with us."

Then the second sound of the cow-bell fell upon the ear of Fred Linden; Terry was within a hundred feet of the point whence it came, and he could not have heard it more distinctly had he been standing on the spot himself. The noise was so peculiar that a flood of misgiving overwhelmed him. The _tinkle_, _tinkle_, _tinkle_, was so regular that nothing was plainer than that no living quadruped could have made the sound.

"That was not the cow," whispered the startled Terry; "she has more sinse than to do any thing of the kind, as me uncle used to obsarve whin he was accused of kaapin' sober; but I'll find out by the same token what it all means."

Since he had no firearms with which to defend himself, and since he was sure he was threatened by danger, he ought to have hastened homeward; but his curiosity would not permit him to do so.

He advanced with all the caution possible, parting the obstructing bushes in front and stepping as lightly on the carpet of leaves as though he were a scout entering the camp of an enemy. He often stopped, listened and peered, not only in front and the sides, but to the rear. Whatever might take place, he did not intend to be surprised.

He had advanced a couple of rods in this manner, when a faint sound from the bell caught his ear, but was instantly suppressed, as though some one had stopped at the instant he started to sway it. Faint as was the tinkle, however, he was able to locate the precise point whence it came, and after a little hesitation he moved toward it.

All at once he caught sight of a figure in a crouching position, stepping softly among the trees and undergrowth. He stood still, and a moment later was able to distinguish the figure of an Indian warrior, bending slightly forward, advancing inch by inch and holding the cow-bell in his hand. _

Read next: Chapter 4. A Party Of The Third Part

Read previous: Chapter 2. The Tinkle Of A Bell

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