A Waif of the Mountains

“Why didn’t you awake me afore? Have you seen anything wrong?”

“I am not sure; my doubt made me hold on a little longer, but I learned nothing of account.”

“What was it anyway?”

“It is only that the animals appear to be uneasy, but it may mean nothing, or it may mean a good deal.”

“It’s more’n likely it means something. Where are they?”

“Lying down off there to the right, almost near enough to be seen.”

“They can’t be too close; wal, you can sleep and I’ll take my turn.”

Thus warned by Captain Dawson, Vose Adams assumed the duties of sentinel with his senses on the alert. He had become so accustomed to the delicate duty, when aware that the slightest slip on his part meant death, that he was better fitted for the task than any member of the party, though the experience of Ruggles and the captain in the army had given them the ability to awake at any moment fixed upon before sinking into slumber, and they were sensitive to the least disturbance while enjoying refreshing rest.

Adams believed what he had remarked more than once that the little company of mountain Indians would do their utmost to revenge themselves upon the men who had taken off their chief. He suspected that the five were prowling in the neighborhood, looking for some such opportunity, and that they would strike a blow before the rising of the morrow’s sun.

Nothing was to be hoped for in the way of a diversion, created by the intrusion of Colonel Briggs and his vagrant miners. Not that the Indians were not eager to strike at any members of the hated race, but the all-controlling motive was lacking in the case of the larger party.

Although the moon was in the sky, only a small part of its light penetrated the cañon. Peering into the darkness, Vose dimly made out the forms of the four animals, who, having ceased their cropping of the grass, had lain down for the remainder of the night. They were so near that they could not be stampeded or stolen without the effort being known to the sentinel.

It would have been the height of rashness to start a camp fire, for all the figures within its circle of illumination must have formed the best of targets for their stealthy foes. As it was, an enemy would have to steal from the gloom and approach near enough to touch them, before striking a blow or firing a shot.

Vose Adams, with his Winchester in his right hand and held close to his side, took his seat on the ground, resting his back against the nearest boulder. As a rule, a sentinel can keep awake for an extended time only by motion and exercise, such as walking to and fro, but the trained hunter often takes the risk and there is little danger of his succumbing, especially after he has just finished a nap, as was the case with the guide.

Thus seated, with the boulder rising several feet above his head, Adams’s only reliance was upon his keenness of hearing and sight.

He had not waited long when he saw proof of what the captain had told him: the animals were restless, or rather one of them was. The quadruped thus affected was Hercules, his own mule, who, although lying down, twice rose to his feet, shifted his position and lay down again. Then he sniffed as if the air contained an odor that was displeasing to him.

“I wouldn’t think much of it, if it was one of the horses,” reflected his master, “but Hercules has brains; he knows more’n all the others together, and yet it may be it ain’t that after all.”

One of the singular facts regarding cattle and other quadrupeds is that they are sometimes troubled with disquieting dreams, the same as ourselves. This trifling cause has resulted many a time in the stampeding of a drove numbering tens of thousands.

“I’ve knowed Hercules to kick and snort in his sleep, and one time he come mighty near breakin’ a leg of mine; howsumever, I don’t think that’s the trouble with him to-night. I ’spect it’s Injins this time!”

When Captain Dawson lay down to sleep and Vose Adams assumed his place as sentinel, the moon was near the zenith, but the contour of the cañon shut out its beams. While Vose was striving to pierce the gloom, over and about the four animals, he noted a flickering tremor against the vast wall which formed the other side of the cañon. A faint, fleecy veil of moonlight having been lifted over the mountain crests, was now flung downward and caught against and suspended upon the projecting rocks and crags. It was but a frosty shimmer, but the veil dangled lower and lower, pendant here and there until the fringe rested on the bottom of the gorge.

The sleeping miners and horses were wrapped in deep shadow, but the tremulous, almost invisible veil still fluttered on the further side of the cañon. By and by, the shifting moon would whisk it up again and all would be gloom as before.

The sentinel lay flat on his face and peered over the prone animals toward the faint light across the cañon, and, looking thus, he saw the outlines of a man moving among the horses and mule. A shadow could not have been more noiseless. Not the faintest rustle betrayed his footsteps.

“Just what I expected,” thought Vose; “I’ll wager Hercules against a dozen of the best horses in Sacramento that that shadder is one of them five Injins we seen stealin’ along the ledge this mornin’. All the same, I can’t imagine what the mischief he is driving at.”

The guide’s first impulse was to bring his rifle to his shoulder and let fly. The intruder was so near that it was impossible to miss him, but two causes operated to prevent this summary course: Vose wished first to learn the business of the intruder, and there was a single possibility in a hundred that he was neither an Indian nor an enemy.

The latter doubt could be solved by challenging the prowler with a threat to fire, if instant satisfaction was refused, while the firing could be made so promptly that the stranger would have no chance of whisking out of reach. Vose decided to wait until he got some idea of the other’s business.

He could still dimly discern the form, but it was so obscure that had it not been moving about, he would not have been able to distinguish it or make sure it was within his field of vision.

While studying the phantom, the lower part of the veil of moonlight on the other side of the cañon was twitched up for a hundred feet. Lingering thus a minute, it was twitched still higher; then a third flirt snatched it out of the gorge. The shifting of the moon had left the cañon shrouded in darkness as before.

Nothing could have attested more strikingly the marvelous stealth of the intruder than the fact that not one of the horses was awakened by him. The approach of the great Geronimo and several of his Apaches was betrayed under somewhat similar circumstances by the neighing of a horse that they awakened, apparently when making no noise at all.

This prowler was a shadow in a world of shadows. If Hercules detected his presence, the man succeeded in soothing the fear of the hybrid.

“Halt or I’ll fire!”

Vose Adams’s voice was low, but in the tomb-like stillness a thunderclap could not have been more distinct. The hail, however, produced no response. The angered Vose drew his Winchester to a level, with his finger on the trigger, but when he ran his eye along the barrel, he failed to perceive any target. He lowered the muzzle a few inches and peered over the top. Nothing was discernible.

“You’re there somewhere and I’ll find you!”

Instead of rising erect, the sentinel advanced in a crouching posture, so that his head was no higher than if he were on his hands and knees.

This clever strategy was thrown away. Within five seconds, he was at the side of Hercules, prepared and expecting to grapple with his enemy, who, to his exasperation, continued invisible. Vose did not require to have the matter explained to him, for he understood it. Upon being hailed, the intruder instead of throwing up his hands or starting to run, had also assumed a stooping position. It was as if he had quietly sunk below the surface of a sea of darkness through which he was wading, and swum with noiseless celerity to a point beyond reach.

Vose was angered but took his defeat philosophically.

“You was too smart for me that time; I never had it played finer on me, but I guess it’s just as well; you’ve learned that we’re on the lookout and you can’t sneak into camp without some risk of having a hole bored inter you.”

But Vose was not yet through with his nocturnal experiences. He held his seat for some fifteen or twenty minutes without seeing or hearing anything to cause the slightest misgiving. The horses still slept, and even the uneasy Hercules appeared to have become composed and to have made up his mind to slumber until morning.

“I don’t b’leve there’ll be anything more to disturb me, onless some wild animal wants his supper–”

The thought had hardly taken shape, when a shiver of affright ran through him, though the cause was so slight that it might have brought a smile, being nothing more than a pebble rolling down the ravine, up which the fugitives had passed the day before. The stone came slowly, loosening several similar obstructions, which joined with it, the rustling increasing and continuing until all reached the bottom and lay at rest a few feet from where he sat.

Nothing could have been easier than for this to occur in the natural course of things, since hundreds of such instances were taking place at every hour of the day and night, but in the tense state of the sentinel’s nerves, he was inclined to attribute it either to the Indian that had just visited camp and slunk away, or to one of his comrades trying to steal a march upon him.

“I ’spose the next thing will be for him to climb over this boulder behind me and drop onto my head. Howsumever, if he does, he’ll find me awake.”

Vose sat thus, depending almost wholly upon his sense of hearing to apprise him of the stealthy approach of an enemy, while the long silent hours gradually passed, without bringing additional cause for alarm.

CHAPTER XXV

INSTINCT OR REASON

As the night wore away without bringing any further evidence of the presence of enemies, the solicitude of Vose Adams was transferred to the two, who, hardly a mile distant, were awaiting with equal anxiety the coming of morning. They and he had agreed upon the plan to be pursued, but now, with the crisis at hand, the guide became apprehensive about the final issue.

Suppose the couple should leave their hiding place to return to the main trail before their pursuers were out of the way? Mutual discovery was certain with the dreadful catastrophe that none dreaded more than he. But it would seem that Lieutenant Russell was too cautious to run the risk of so fatal a mistake. He would reconnoitre the ground and keep out of sight until the coast was clear, but the restless Adams was astir at the first streakings of light in the cañon.

He first visited the animals. It was possible that the stealthy prowler of the night before had done them injury, but, so far as he could ascertain, nothing of the kind had occurred. Except for what he had seen and heard during the darkness, he would not have known that a visitor had been in camp.

It was not fully light when the others rose from their primitive couches. Water was at hand, and after drinking and ablution, the group sat down to their morning meal, which disposed of the last remnant furnished by Vose Adams. While they were eating, he told of the occurrences of the night and was surprised that his companions made light of them. To them it was of less importance than to him.

“So long as they do no more than prowl about the camp,” remarked Captain Dawson, “we need feel no concern.”

“It seems to me,” said Brush, “that if the fellow intended mischief, he would have done it, but he has left no traces of anything of the kind.”

“Which was because the right kind of chance didn’t show itself,” said Vose; “if we don’t have a lively fight before this bus’ness is over, I’m much mistook, but it’s time we was moving.”

The guide seemed to have forgotten his resentment of the night before and his friends were too considerate to refer to it. It took but a short time to make the animals ready, when the procession started up the gorge, Vose, as usual, leading, with the captain next, then Wade Ruggles, while the parson brought up the rear, that position naturally falling to him.

Men and beasts were refreshed by their rest and food, and it required but a brief while to reach the top of the gorge, where, as will be remembered, it terminated. It was here that Vose Adams began his fine work, and he showed no more hesitancy in drawing a “long bow,” than on the previous night, when pretending to account for his long absence.

“The trail leads to the right,” he said, with a glance at the ground, as if to refresh his memory.

His first thrill of misgiving came when he saw the parson pause and look searchingly at the ground. Had he possessed one-half the skill of Vose in trailing, he would have discovered that the guide was misleading them, but he did not have that cleverness nor did any other member of the party. The glance of the parson was perfunctory and his brief pause was to regain his breath after the short but laborious climb of the steep slope. Vose was watching him closely and quickly saw the meaning of his action, for, whatever Brush may have observed on the ground in front of him, it was not the faint impressions left on the stones by the fugitives. Neither the captain nor Ruggles so much as looked at the earth, accepting the dictum of their guide without question.

It was not deemed best to mount the animals, because of the roughness of the ground and the belief that they were close upon the parties for whom they were searching. Vose took care to turn so sharply to the right that they were speedily out of sight of the spot where he had parted from the fugitives. Everything was going promisingly when Wade Ruggles startled his companions by the exclamation:

“Helloa! there’s that dog Timon!”

A hundred yards to the left rose a pile of rocks, the highest of which reached an altitude of two hundred feet or more. Upon the crest of one of the lower rocks, which had only a slight height, the immense dog stood in plain sight. It looked as if he had started to ascend the rocks, when he discovered the party and paused to learn their business.

The picture was a striking one. The enormous size of the brute gave the impression at first that he was a wolf or some wild animal that had challenged the advance of the four men. This error would have been made had not each been so familiar with the creature. As he stood, his formidable head raised, his forequarters being slightly higher than the remainder of his body, his position was diagonal. He was surveying his acquaintances, who surveyed him in turn with equal curiosity.

Vose Adams’s heart sank. What was the meaning of this? As he viewed it, the presence of the dog could have no other significance than that the lieutenant and Nellie Dawson were close at hand. Timon was in their company and would not have strayed far, so that he had betrayed them. From some cause, which the guide could not comprehend, Lieutenant Russell had made a change of plan and placed himself almost in the path along which Vose was leading the pursuers, in the belief that the fugitives were at a safe distance.

The four men looked at the dog for several moments in silence, when the captain spoke:

“We must be very near them.”

“You’re dead right,” added Ruggles in the same undertone; “we’ve got ’em cornered sooner than we expected.”

“They can’t go far,” said the parson, “without being stopped by the rocks, when we shall have them in the nicest trap that was ever set for any game.”

The reflection of Vose Adams was of a different nature.

“If they make fools of themselves and upset all my plans, what can I do to help ’em? Why didn’t they stay where they promised to stay, and why didn’t they kill that blamed dog afore he played this trick on ’em?”

Timon stood for two or three minutes so immovable that he suggested a stone image of himself, carved out of the rock on which he was perched. Then he emitted a single husky bark and leaped lightly down from where he had been standing. It was no more than a dozen feet, and he alighted as gracefully as a panther. He trotted part way to the horsemen, who were closely watching his movements, stopped, barked again and wheeling, trotted forward over precisely the course Vose Adams was taking when checked by the appearance of the canine.

The men looked at one another in astonishment. The action of the dog was unaccountable, but Captain Dawson’s explanation sounded reasonable.

“That shows we are on the right track and he has come to guide us to where they are awaiting him.”

There could be no doubt of it. The actions of the brute said as plainly as so many words: “Come with me and I will take you straight to the people you want to see.”

Instead of following Timon at once, the party kept watch of him. He trotted a dozen steps and then paused and looked back. Observing that he was not understood, he emitted several more barks, took a couple of steps and then repeated the performance. His object was so evident that Captain Dawson said:

“That’s as plain as the nose on your face; the animal is worth a dozen guides like you, Vose.”

“Then why don’t you foller him?” sulkily asked the latter.

“That’s what we shall do; come on.”

Observing that the captain left his horse standing, the parson inquired the reason.

“They are of no use to us and will be only a bother; leave them here until we need them; I will follow the dog and you can take what order you choose, but,” he added with unmistakable earnestness, “every one of you must keep in the background till I’m through.”

Timon held his motionless position until the four men had taken several steps toward him and there could be no error as to their intention. Vose Adams observed that he was following, without a hair’s variation, the course he had in mind.

“It serves ’em right,” was his angry reflection; “when the leftenant spoke ’bout hunting up a new trail through the mountains, I oughter knowed he hain’t no sense and was sure to make a mess of things. Now’s he gone and sneaked off where these folks will stub their toes agin him; I’m ’sprised that the Queen didn’t hammer a little sense into his head.”

The guide was in a torture of apprehension. The impending outcome was likely to betray the deception he had used, but it was not for that he cared. There could be no mistaking the deadly mood of Captain Dawson and the equally intense hatred of Ruggles and Brush. A meeting with Lieutenant Russell made a frightful tragedy inevitable, and no one could be more vividly aware of the fact than the young officer himself, for Vose had impressed it upon him, but the guide in his anguish of spirit, saw no possible escape from it. He stolidly followed, striving to brace himself for what must soon come.

Meanwhile, the strange leadership continued. Timon seemed to be impatient, for occasionally he broke into a trot, abruptly pausing and looking back, as if to urge his followers to use more haste. Since they did not do so, he checked himself, when about to pass beyond sight and waited for them to draw near. He led them around boulders and masses of rocks, over ridges, down declivities, across one small stream, through a ravine and again among the precipitous piles of stone, until even the hardy men were well nigh exhausted. They had traveled fully a mile over a route that was of the most trying nature.

It was about this time that an extraordinary suspicion began forming in the mind of Vose Adams. He hardly dared give credence to it, but it took greater hold upon him with every few rods of advance. Nothing in the world would have induced him to make known his suspicion, but it continued to grow.

Suddenly Captain Dawson stopped. As he looked around his face was agitated.

“Boys,” said he, “there’s something infernally strange about this.”

Vose Adams saw that his own suspicion had entered the mind of their leader, but the countenance of the guide was as blank as that of a child.

“It’s the worst tramp I ever had,” remarked the parson, removing his hat and mopping his forehead.

“If there’s any harder work,” added Ruggles, “count me out.”

Captain Dawson looked angrily at Vose.

“Do you know the meaning of this?”

Vose shook his head and prevaricated still further by adding:

“Nor what you’re driving at either.”

“That dog has misled us; instead of conducting us to the couple he has taken us away from them.”

It was true and every one of the four knew it. The suspicion of the guide had become certainty. Was it instinct or reason that controlled the animal? Who shall draw the line in explaining many of the actions of the brute creation?

Vose Adams was silent a moment and then emitted a low whistle.

“Hang me, if I don’t b’leve you’re right, captain. I’ve been told that that dog knowed more than a good many folks and there ain’t no doubt of it now.”

The disgusted parson exclaimed:

“Why didn’t one of us think of that? The idea of all four being fooled by a dog!”

“It wouldn’t have been so bad if there had been two dogs,” said Ruggles, who saw the grim humor of the thing, “but it is tough to have our eyes shet by only one.”

It was impossible for Vose Adams wholly to restrain all evidence of his pleasure. When in the depths of despair, he was awakened to the fact that the canine had performed one of the most brilliant exploits conceivable. He could not help smiling. The captain was in an ugly mood and in a threatening voice asked:

“Did you have anything to do with this?”

“Certainly; me and Timon fixed up the thing afore he left Dead Man’s Gulch; it took us a good while; the dog didn’t think it would work, but I stuck to it and finally he promised to have a try at it; certainly we fixed it up atween us.”

The guide did a clever thing in thus turning the fantastic belief of the captain into ridicule. Had he protested, he might have added to the suspicion against himself. It was further in his favor that it was known he had never had much to do with Timon. As already related, the brute had few friends among the miners and Vose Adams never sought his acquaintance.

Nevertheless, it was impossible to brush out of sight one significant fact,–the long absence of Adams the day before. But for the last occurrence, nothing would have been thought of the former, but it was clear that Captain Dawson had begun to entertain doubts of the loyalty of his guide.

“He’ll never repeat his trick anyway,” exclaimed the officer, facing about and bringing his rifle to his shoulder. But his intention of shooting Timon was frustrated, for the brute was nowhere in sight. Unreasonable as it might sound, it looked as if he suspected how things would turn out and took the occasion to place himself beyond danger from the indignant men.

“In the army we shoot spies and traitors,” remarked the captain, so angered by his repeated disappointments that he could not govern his feelings. In giving expression to the remark, the officer made a serious mistake, which he saw the moment the words left his lips. He was suspicious of Vose Adams, but he should have concealed all evidence of it, until the proof appeared. When that took place, he would shoot the man with no more hesitation that he would have shot the dog. But he had now put Vose on his guard and the difficulty of detecting him was increased tenfold.

As if to obliterate the memory of his words, the captain said in the most matter of fact tone he could assume:

“The mistake we made has taken us from the right spot; they must have been near the rocks where Timon showed himself.”

“No doubt,” said the parson, “and were watching us.”

“The one thing to do is to retrace our steps; perhaps the two may be fools enough,” bitterly added the captain, “to wait for us, since that seems to be the only way by which we shall ever come up with them.”

A single short bark startled them. The captain wheeled like a flash with his gun at his shoulder. But Timon was too cunning to show himself. It is not improbable that he meant the expression for a note of triumph over his inimitable exploit, while such a wonderful dog was too wise to run any risk of punishment from his indignant victims.