The Cave of Gold

by Everett McNeil

  CHAPTER XXII

  THE MYSTERY OF THE TENT

  "I reckon we otter make Humbug Canyon afore dark tew-night," Hamdeclared, as our friends, notwithstanding the break in their rest of thenight before, moved out of the little valley, where they had camped, assoon as it became light enough to see the trail the next morning.

  "Yes," assented Mr. Conroyal, "but we will have to keep going to do it.Do you suppose we fooled Ugger and his gang and threw them off our traillast night?" and he turned a little anxiously to Ham and Frank Holt, whowere walking by his side.

  "If they didn't have no one on watch, I reckon we did," answered Ham;"but it's more'n likely they're cunnin' enough tew be on th' lookout forjest such tricks an' that they know right now where we be. They know itwouldn't dew for them tew lose track of us in this here wilderness ofmountains, where 'twould be like tryin' tew find a needle in a haystacktew try tew hit our trail ag'in, once it was lost; an' so, I reckon,some on 'em has got an eye on us right now, an' that we'll have tew playa shrewder trick than that tew fool 'em. But, maybe, 'twill work allright as a sort of a blind, an' make them think that we think that wehave fooled them, an' so make 'em keerless, so that we can fool 'em th'next time. What dew you think, Steeltrap?" Ham still frequently calledFrank Holt by his old name, Steeltrap Smith, a name that had been givento him on account of his skill as a trapper, when his own name wasunknown even to himself, as the readers of this series of books willremember.

  "I think you are about right, Ham," replied Holt, "although I should notbe much surprised if we gave them the slip last night. I kept watch allthe time that we were on the move yesterday, but nary a sign of anybodyfollowing our trail could I discover. They sure must have a cunningtrailer, or else they're not depending on keeping us in sight. Perhapsthey got more about the trail from the old miner than we think they did,and are on the watch for us at some point ahead, which they know we mustpass."

  "That's a shrewd guess, Frank," declared Mr. Conroyal. "Now," and hisface brightened, "why wouldn't it be a good plan for us not to passthrough Humbug Canyon at all; but to go around it and to try to hit thetrail again on the other side? If there is any place ahead where theywould be likely to be on the watch for us, it is at Humbug Canyon,because that is the last place on the trail they could be sure ofwithout the map. The trouble will be to get around Humbug Canyon. Maybethere is no trail that we can follow but the one running through thecanyon. Anybody here know anything about the region around HumbugCanyon?" and, raising his voice, he stopped and looked inquiringlyaround.

  "Yes, a little," answered Dickson, quickly coming forward. "I spentabout two weeks last fall prospecting in the mountains around it. Whatwould you like to know?"

  "Can we go to one side of Humbug Canyon and hit the trail to the Cave ofGold again beyond?" inquired Conroyal eagerly. "If there has beenanybody stationed in Humbug Canyon to look out for us, we would like tofool them by not passing through it at all."

  "I think we might do it by working around through Owl Gulch about fivemiles to the east of Humbug Canyon," Dickson answered thoughtfully: "butit will be considerable out of our way and the trail won't be nigh asgood. I am not absolutely sure, but I think we could get through allright that way and not go nigh Humbug Canyon."

  "Shall we risk it?" and Mr. Conroyal turned to the men, all of whom hadbeen interested listeners to his query and to Dickson's answer.

  "I think the idea a good one," declared Mr. Randolph, "because, if theold miner told them that the trail to the cave passed through HumbugCanyon, they'd be sure to have someone on the watch for us there; and, Ireckon, we are good enough mountaineers to find the trail on the otherside without much trouble."

  "My sentiments tew a ha'r," agreed Ham emphatically. "Let's hit for OwlGulch. 'Twould be worth goin' a hundred miles out of th' way tew shakethem skunks."

  "All right," and Mr. Conroyal turned to Dickson. "You are the guide fromnow on, Dick, so step to the front and we will follow."

  This plan appeared to please all except Pedro, who, bending down by theside of one of the horses and pretending to tighten a rope holding thepack, scowled furiously and swore violently, under his breath, inMexican; and the scowl was still on his face, when he again straightenedup and prepared to follow along with the pack-horses.

  "What's the trouble, Pedro? Flapjacks getting busy?" and Thure turned agrinning face to the Mexican.

  "No. Pack slip and pinch finger in rope. Now all right," and the smilecame back on Pedro's face.

  But Thure noticed that the scowl returned again and again to his facethat forenoon, as he walked along by the side of the pack-horses.

  "Reckon the break in his sleep has made him cross," he thought, and gavethe matter no more attention.

  At noon, when they stopped to give horses and selves a short rest and achance to eat their dinners, Pedro slipped off behind a rock for someten minutes; and, when the journey was resumed, he lagged a littlebehind the others, pretending to be tightening one of the packs, and,once again, managed to slip, unseen, a little piece of paper under astone and leave it near the camp-fire over which Mrs. Dickson had heatedthe coffee. This little feat seemed to fully restore his good-nature;for there were no more scowls on his face that day.

  About the middle of the afternoon Dickson halted, where the stream alongwhose bank they had been walking for the last two hours forked, onebranch flowing almost directly from the north and the other coming fromthe east, with a huge triangle of mountains widening out between them.

  "Thither runs the trail to Humbug Canyon," and he pointed to thenorthern stream; "and thither runs the trail to Owl Gulch," and hisfinger turned to the eastern branch. "We are now about two hours fromHumbug Canyon and some four hours from Owl Gulch. Remember I am notabsolutely sure I can find the trail the other side of Humbug Canyon;but I think I can. Stackpole and I went by way of the canyon. Now, whichshall it be?"

  "Owl Gulch," answered Mr. Conroyal promptly. "I reckon we can find thetrail all right again--Hi, there, Pedro, what sort of a heathenish charmis that you are making?" and he turned abruptly to Pedro, who the momentthey had stopped had begun scratching curious lines with his knife onthe face of a soft rock, by the side of which they had halted.

  "Si, senor," and Pedro turned a solemn face to Mr. Conroyal, "'tis but aholy cross I am cutting to scare the devils away from following us upthat evil-smelling stream," and he pointed to the east fork of thelittle river, from which arose a faint odor.

  "Wal," grinned Ham, "I shore dew hope that you scare 'em away; for tharshore is devils a-follerin' us," and his grin broadened at sight of thestartled look that came into Pedro's face.

  "_Madre de Dios!_" and Pedro crossed himself swiftly.

  "But, even a devil must cotch a feller afore he can run his pitchforkintew him," and Ham chuckled; "an' we ain't cotched yit. As for thatthar stream," and he chuckled again, "th' devil once took a drink out ofit, an' it's smelt of his breath ever since."

  "There, that will do, Ham," laughed Mr. Conroyal. "Come on," and hestarted up the east fork of the river.

  Pedro, the snaky look in his eyes showing more plainly than ever,swiftly cut a small arrow, with its head pointing up the east fork ofthe rivulet, underneath the cross, slipped the knife back into itssheath, and followed with the pack-horses, his sallow face now allsmiles. Evidently he had explicit faith in the power of his charm tokeep the devils from following them up the evil-smelling stream.

  That night our friends camped in Owl Gulch, a steep, narrow defile,little more than a crack in the huge walls of surrounding rock; and thenext day, after much arduous and violent climbing for horses and men upthe gulch and over the low back of a mountain, they passed down into aquiet little valley, just as the sun sank behind the tops of themountains to the west.

  The moment Dickson entered the valley he uttered an exclamation ofpleasure.

  "Hurrah!" he cried. "We've hit the trail again! I am sure this is thelittle valley where Stackpole and I camped the first night out fromHumbug Canyon. There
should be a spring bubbling out of the ground atthe point of that spur of rocks where you see that little grove oftrees," and he pointed to a small grove of trees that clustered aboutthe point of a ridge of rocks that projected, like a long bony finger,from the side of the surrounding mountains down into the little valley."We made our camp in the grove. I'll know the place for sure when we getthere by a tree that Stackpole girdled," and, accompanied by Thure andBud, he started on the run for the little grove of trees now about halfa mile away.

  In a few minutes the three reached the trees. The spring was there! Byits side stood a tall sycamore tree, dead, its trunk having been girdledby an ax, as the deep scars in its bark still plainly showed.

  "There," and Dickson pointed triumphantly to the tree, "there is mywitness, the very tree that Stackpole girdled, in order that he mighthave plenty of dry wood the next time that he camped here. And see," andhe pointed excitedly to the blackened remains of a camp-fire that didnot look to be many weeks old, "there is where he camped on his way backfrom the Cave of Gold. We sure are in luck!" and he turned to shout thegood news to the others, who were now pushing their way eagerly throughthe trees.

  "Here is where we camp for the night," declared Mr. Conroyal, when theexcitement and the jubilation of the discovery that they were surely onthe right trail again had somewhat quieted down; and all at once beganjoyfully preparing the camp for the night.

  "It's queer how things dew turn out sometimes," philosophized Ham, whenall were seated around a blazing camp-fire, built from the limbs of thedead sycamore, after the supper had been eaten and all the camp dutiesattended to. "Th' miner that murdered that tree, jest so that he mighthave dry wood, was murdered himself, jest for his gold; an' here we bea-settin' around an' takin' comfort from a camp-fire built from th' deadlimbs of th' dead miner's dead tree, an' bound on a hunt for th' deadminer's gold. Wal, I shore hopes we have better luck than he did."

  "Oh, shut up, Ham!" and Rex threw a discarded flapjack at Ham's head,with such good aim that it landed squarely over his big mouth. "You areenough to give the dumps to a man with the tooth-ache."

  When the laugh that followed this admirable use of valuable ammunitionhad quieted down, Dickson turned to Mr. Conroyal.

  "I think I would like to have another look at that skin map," he said.

  "Certain, get the map, Thure," and Mr. Conroyal turned to Thure.

  Thure hesitated a moment, and then, catching sight of Mrs. Dickson'slittle tent and receiving a smiling nod from her, he quickly entered thetent, and a few minutes later came out with the skin map in his hand,and handed it to Mr. Dickson.

  Pedro, who was standing near, washing the few supper dishes in agold-pan, started a little and almost visibly pricked up his ears at thefirst mention of the skin map, and his evil eyes followed Thure into thetent, with an intensity of look that was well for him was unseen by hisemployers.

  Dickson took the map and spread it out on his knees, where the light ofthe camp-fire shone full upon it; and soon all were gathered around him,yes, all, even Pedro, who had softly left his dish washing andtip-toeing up to the heads bending absorbedly over the map, was nowstriving to secure a glimpse of the skin map directly from over the bigshoulders of Ham.

  Suddenly Ham straightened up his huge frame, with such a sudden jerk,that one of his shoulders came in so violent a contact with the point ofPedro's chin that the Mexican was lifted off his feet and thrown flat onhis back to the ground.

  "Wal, I'll be durned!" and Ham stared down in astonishment on the fallenMexican. "Thought I heer'd someone breathin' over my shoulder. Now whatmight you be dewin' down thar?" and the eyes that glared down intoPedro's face began to glow angrily.

  "I--I" stammered Pedro, as he staggered a little dizzily to his feet,both hands holding onto his head. "I but try to see what make so greatinterest to senors, when sudden up comes that great body and hit chin,like bunt of big bull, and knock head to ground. I did but follow myhead, senor."

  "Jest follered y'ur head, did you?" and Ham's anger vanished in roars oflaughter, at the words of the unfortunate Mexican and the looks on hisface, in which he was heartily joined by all the others, all except Mrs.Dickson, who inquired solicitously of Pedro if he was much hurt.

  But Pedro's curiosity for the moment was fully satisfied, and, withoutmaking any reply, except to mutter something about American bulls underhis breath, he retreated to his dish washing.

  "Sarved him right," declared Ham emphatically, as all again resumedtheir examination of the skin map.

  When the map had been sufficiently examined, Thure again retired intoMrs. Dickson's tent, where he again concealed the map in the bosom ofhis shirt; and when he came out again, apparently without the map, Pedrosmiled knowingly.

  Before going to her tent that night Mrs. Dickson sang a number of songs,and almost weirdly beautiful her voice sounded in the still night air ofthat little wilderness valley, concluding with Ham's favorite "BenBolt." Then she bade them all good-night and disappeared into her littletent.

  Mr. Dickson and Thure were to stand guard that night until the moon cameup, which would be about one o'clock in the morning. Consequently, assoon as Mrs. Dickson retired, all but these two rolled themselves up intheir blankets near the camp-fire and were soon sound asleep. Thure andDickson each picked up his rifle and took his station on opposite sidesof the camp and began his long silent vigil.

  The skies were overcast with clouds and the darkness was so dense thatthe watchers could not see six feet outside of the constantly dimmingcircle of the firelight. In a couple of hours the fire had burnt down solow, that, from where Thure stood near the horses, he could not even seethe white of Mrs. Dickson's tent, although it was not over ten yardsfrom where he stood; and he was about to step forward to replenish it,when a dark object leaped by him, so close that he could have touched itwith his outstretched rifle, and disappeared in the darkness before hecould utter a word or throw his gun to his shoulder, and the nextinstant the air was rent by a piercing shriek from Pedro, followed bythe flash and the report of his pistol and his yells of fright.

  In an instant every man in the camp was on his feet, his rifle in hishands, calling excitedly: "What is the trouble?" "What has happened?"and running to where Pedro was rolling about on the ground, calling onall the saints in the Mexican calendar to protect him, seemingly franticwith fear.

  "Stop that yellin', you Mexican coyote, an' tell us what has happened,quick," and Ham bent down and, seizing the squirming Pedro by theshoulders, jerked him to his feet and dragged him unceremoniously to thecamp-fire, which an armful of dry fuel caused to blaze up brightly.

  "_Madre de Dios!_ I know not! I know not!" cried the man, glaringwildly about him and clinging to Ham. "Unless it was the devil ofthese evil mountains. I lay sleeping, rolled up in my blanket,when,--poof!--something hit my side and something big and ugly tumbleall over me and I see something black and awful jump in the darkness andI grab my pistol I always sleep with me in blanket and shoot--bang!--andthe big black thing give one great jump and vanish, just like a blackdevil, in the darkness. _Santissima!_ I know not what he was, if he wasnot the devil! I--"

  "I saw him rush by me so close that I might have touched him with myrifle," here broke in Thure; "but, before I could speak or shoot, he haddisappeared in the darkness, and then came Pedro's shot and yells."

  "Look to the horses!" cried Mr. Conroyal. "See that everything is safe!"

  At that moment Dickson appeared in the circle of light made by thecamp-fire.

  "All the horses are safe," he said. "Nothing appears to be missing. Whatdoes all this excitement mean? I saw nothing, heard nothing, until theshooting and yelling began--" He stopped abruptly and glanced swiftlyaround. "Mollie! Where's Mollie?" and he sprang toward the tent.

  "Gosh! I plumb forgot th' Leetle Woman! She shore otter have showed upafore this," and Ham's face whitened, as his eyes followed Dickson intothe little tent.

  The fire was now burning so brightly that the tent showed plainly in itsruddy
light; and the eyes of all fixed themselves on it, a look ofdreadful apprehension on each whitening face.

  For a moment all was silent after Dickson disappeared in the tent; andthen came a yell of horror that made every man jump for the tent, justas Dickson staggered out with a squirming bundle in his arms, that hequickly laid down on the ground and began frantically untying thedeerskin thongs with which it was tightly bound.

  "Great God, if 'tain't th' Leetle Woman!" and Ham bent excitedly andwith his knife began cutting the thongs, which bound Mrs. Dickson, headand all, in her own blanket as tightly as an Egyptian mummy.

  In a moment her body was free; but, when the blanket was lifted from herface, her mouth was found to be so tightly stuffed, with a piece ofcloth torn from her own dress, that she could not utter an audiblesound. Dickson's strong fingers quickly pulled the cloth out of hermouth; and she lay, white and gasping for breath, but apparently unhurt,staring up wildly into the faces of the excited men.

  "Take her into the tent, Dick, until she recovers from her fright andrough usage," whispered Mr. Conroyal, bending close to Dickson's ear.

  Dickson quickly lifted his wife into his arms and carried her into thetent.

  "Who did it?" and Mr. Conroyal's eyes searched anxiously the angry andmystified faces of the men, the moment Mr. Dickson vanished with hisburden in the tent.

  "Th' Lord alone knows for sart'in," answered Ham. "But, I reckon, 'twasone of them durned skunks. Jest wait 'til th' Leetle Woman gits tewfeelin' like herself ag'in an' maybe she can give us some usefulinformation."

  But, in this conjecture, Ham was wrong; for, when something like half anhour later, Mrs. Dickson came out the tent, leaning on her husband's armand looking very white, but otherwise little the worse for herexperience, all the information she could give only added to themystery.

  She had been sound asleep when the attack was made. The first thing sheknew a hand held her by the throat, so tightly that she could not uttera sound; and, when she opened her mouth, gasping vainly for breath, itwas instantly stuffed full of rags, so firmly that she could not utter aloud sound. Then the hand was taken from her throat, her arms pressedclosely to her sides, and she was tightly rolled up in her own blanket,head and all, and tied the way they had found her. For some little timeafter that she heard her assailant cautiously searching the tent. Heappeared to be exceedingly anxious to find something; for every possiblehiding-place in the tent had been thoroughly searched and every packageor bundle had been opened. When the search was over, she heard theintruder creep softly out of the tent. Then had followed a few minutesof silence broken suddenly by Pedro's yells and shot. Owing to thedarkness and to the fact that her eyes had been covered as quickly aspossible, she could not give any idea of what her assailant looked like,only she did not think he was a large man.

  This was all the information that Mrs. Dicksom could give; and athorough search of the tent with a torch added nothing to it.

  Thure and Pedro were again examined; but they could give no definiteinformation. Thure had only caught a glimpse of the man, as he hadrushed by him in the darkness; and Pedro appeared to have been toonearly frightened out of his wits to have seen anything correctly, evenif it had been clear daylight, instead of the black night that it was.However both disagreed with Mrs. Dickson in one particular. Thure feltquite sure that the man who rushed by him was a large man; and Pedro waspositive that he was a giant in size. Dickson had not seen the man atall. The horses and the packs, indeed the whole camp, were thoroughlyexamined with lighted torches; but nothing was found missing, nothinghad even been disturbed outside of Mrs. Dickson's tent, and from here,so far as they could discover, not a thing had been taken.

  "It's 'bout as plain as th' nose on a man's face that he was after th'skin map," Ham commented, when all had again gathered around thecamp-fire to consider the mystery; "but, why should he look for it inth' tent? an' how did he git in thar? that's what gits me," and Hamshook his head. "Wal, thar is no use figgerin' on it any longertew-night. Let's git back intew our blankets; an' maybe we can seethings clearer in th' mornin'. It's tew tarnel dark even tew think," andHam laid down on his blanket and rolled himself up in it and refused tohave another word to say about the mystery that night.

  "Reckon Ham is right," Mr. Conroyal declared, as that worthy disappearedin his blanket. "But I sure would like to have a look at the man, whocan creep into our camp at night, right under the noses of the guards,and tie one of us up in a blanket, and search a tent, and make a cleangetaway. I sure would like to have a look at that man."

  "I'd want more than a look," and Mr. Dickson clenched both his hands."I'd just like to get hold of him for about five minutes, thescoundrel!"

  "And you are not the only one, Dick," and an angry light flashed intoMr. Conroyal's eyes. "But, what's the use! He's got away; and withoutleaving a clue, so far as I can see. Let's get into our blankets. Maybe,as Ham says, we can see clearer in the morning. Good night," and Mr.Conroyal turned to his blanket, followed by all the others, except Budand Mr. Randolph, who were to act as guards during the remainder of thenight.